The Master of Hounds

Deep in the village of Darkling

Where the Squires and their Ladies rule,

No-one comes out in the eventime

Unless they’re a brazen fool,

The Hunt is rallied for after dark

And they wear the hood and the cowl,

Roam far and wide through the countryside

While the ravening hounds just howl.

 

They say that they’re hunting foxes,

But I know, that just isn’t true,

That blood they seek at the end of the week,

They may be looking for you,

They take their cues from the Magistrate

Who leads the Hunt through the grounds,

His word is law, and he sets the score,

They call him the Master of Hounds.

 

Sir Roland Bear has an awful stare

As he glares at you from the bench,

The lawyers do what they’re told to do

And offer little defence,

If you poach a hare from a Squire’s land

Or take a fish from his stream,

And you see him add your name to a list,

You know it’s your final scene!

 

For once outside in the courtyard there

The peasants will stare in dread,

They cross themselves as they pass you by

For nobody speaks to the dead!

You can’t go hide in your cottage,

If it still has a window or door,

Though you’re locked right in, the hounds of sin

Will come up through a hole in your floor.

 

The light of my life, Evangeline,

Was married to Percival Shroud,

He beat her once with a riding crop

To keep her bullied and cowed,

She worked all day in the Dairy,

In a barn on Percival’s Farm,

And I said one day that he’d have to pay,

I’d not see her come to harm.

 

She stared at me with her worried eyes

And she let me believe she cared,

We’d hide together beneath the hay

At the height of our love affair,

But one day soon, her burly groom

Had seen us going to ground,

And hauled us before the Magistrate

While our legs and our hands were bound.

 

‘There isn’t a place in Darkling here

For the likes of a pair like you!’

Sir Roland Bear, his pen in the air

Considered what he would do.

‘You’ve wandered outside the marriage bounds

Brought shame on the vows you swore,

While you have sullied her decency,

And turned a wife to a w***e!’

 

He put his pen to the fabled list

And he wrote two names in there,

Then thrust us into the courtyard so

The folk could shame and stare.

They cut our bonds and we heard the hounds

As they howled and yapped for blood,

So we went trembling, hand in hand

To hide ourselves in the wood.

 

The Squires were grim and remorseless when

The Hunt pursued its fare,

Their Ladies thought it a festival

When they rubbed warm blood in their hair,

I’d said I’d not let her come to harm

But Evangeline had cried,

I broke a branch and I sharpened it

To defend my shattered pride.

 

They came at us like the hounds of hell

In their cloaks, and hoods and cowls,

Along with a pack of hunting dogs,

We could hear their approaching howls,

Evangeline was safe in a tree

While I stood guard below,

My fear was clear in my trembling hands

But I stood so it wouldn’t show.

 

A rider burst on out through the trees

And he roared, ‘Now pay for your crime!’

I waited until he rode up close

Then I thrust my stake in his eye,

He screamed just once, and fell from his horse

And his cowl, it floated wide,

I saw I’d killed the Master of Hounds

As the dogs tore at his hide.

 

The Squires looked down with little remorse

At the corpse that lay in the mud,

While the ladies leapt from their jittery mounts

To dip their hands in his blood,

We made our way unseen through the woods

Escaped from the killing grounds,

And Darkling now is free from the spell

Of the evil Master of Hounds!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

Wow! A gruesome tale to say the least but then the uplift at the end. Metaphorically, the dipping hands in blood was a reminder to me - how so many thrive on the "justice" meted out on some poor unsuspecting soul. We feed off of pain it seems in some cases. And when the truly evil fall - their minions usually scatter or just look away as they did in this piece! Well done. There is a message in this it seems - on how we treat each other.

[A Soap Mess Stories]

A nice turn of events. It sounds as if justice was served.

[Phantom Heart]

"They say that they’re hunting foxes,
But I know, that just isn’t true,
That blood they seek at the end of the week,
They may be looking for you"
Love it!

[Keith]

Another brilliant read, A dark evil tale with vivid images and salvation at the end. For me another lesson in what can be achieved with rhyme and meter. Thanks again.

[Ravyne Hawke]

Another wonderful tale.. I love it that the Magistrate got his in the end and the couple got away.. Love the idea of the women washing their hair in the blood.. how blood thirsty we become when we think we are righteous. Wonderful job.

[Lena M. P.]

A happy ending to a gruesome tale. However, washing ones hair with blood went a bit off course don't you think? Yuck!

[A.r. Bazian]

................
again... that this may cease absolutely, a thought!

[Marie]

A truely thrilling tale...justice triumphing.

[Saumya]

this is the best poem i could ever expect to read...!!!! very well done sir!!!!
hats off!!!
saumya