Cry of the Banshee Page #2

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No.

No.

Come back with us, my Lady.

Oh, it's only a hound.

Death.

Will visit our house.

Ah, winter's coming in.

And the wolves are

coming with it.

No.

Come on, let's go back.

No. No.

Harry!

Sister, dear.

It's as though we're

all seeds of evil.

Thank you Roderick.

Another of your sons?

No, no, he's my stud groom.

He seems to have a calming

effect on the Ladyship,

and so I have allowed

her to keep him.

She found him,

wandering in the woods

one time many years ago.

When he was a little boy.

Get off the streets!

The mad dog's coming!

Clear the streets, you

hear me? Clear 'em!

Go home.

Go home child.

Don't move.

Sir, sir! Stay back!

It's the mad dog!

UP there!

Stand still!

Don't move, child!

Stay back.

Wait, you have no weapon.

Now, now.

Stay, stay. There there,

good boy, good boy.

Stay. Stay, stay.

Stay.

It's all right, he's

gone. He's gone.

Thank ye sir, for

saving the girl.

You saved her life, sir.

Does that give you

power over animals?

Why, no.

I've had it since

I can remember.

It must be centuries old.

What does this lettering mean?

I don't know.

But surely your parents,

well they must've tied it there.

Well, I have no parents.

Thank ye for saving

us from the dog, sir.

The only power I recognize is

that of our Lord,

Mistress Maureen.

So that dog

couldn't be bewitched.

It couldn't be

fulfilling this curse.

Only children, or

the simplest villager,

could possibly think so.

I hear it didn't look so

heathen once Roderick tamed it.

It slunk away with its

tail between its legs.

But about Roderick.

Where does he get his

power over animals?

It strikes you strange?

Strikes me fortunate for that

little girl and the witch.

That medallion he wears.

If you're curious, you'd

best ask him yourself.

I did. He doesn't know

where it comes from.

Or what it means.

Or so he claims.

You think him a liar?

You suspect him of witchcraft.

Our Roderick is no more

a sorcerer than I am.

We're all safe with him,

and care nothing of who he

is or where he comes from.

I understand.

Do you?

Then you best treat

it as you would

the most sacred confession.

He threw her

down upon the bank

And used her as he would.

The maiden cried.

"Alas," she sighed,

"I've lost my maidenhead."

And she struggled

slowly to her feet.

And cursed him for his life.

Then from his belt

upon the ground,

She drew the huntsman's knife.

Sing and blow away

the morning dew.

The dew and the dew.

Blow away the morning dew.

How sweet the winds do blow.

"Oh, you have ruined

my life," she cried,

"And now it's time you paid."

Then up against

his manhood's flower

She thrust the sharpened blade.

The huntsman cried

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