Shhhhhh!
Can you hear them?
They keep saying they're cold.
Is it the shock of my sudden death?
Have we perhaps succumbed to some mysterious malady?
Or is it... well... something else?
I am - or maybe I should say I was - George Gordon the 5th Earl of Huntly.
To say I'm a man with influence is an understatement.
Just ask that wastrel Darnley, the late husband
of Mary Queen of Scots or his late faither Regent Lennox.
A nod from me and my associates and you can be...
disposed of.
Do these sins weigh on my conscience?
Do my deeds tie my restless soul to this place?
Hah! That's what some would like you to think.
Me, I'm not so sure.
Why does it feel so cold?
I know what it is to be cold.
I'm the one as cold as the grave.
One minute alive and kicking,
the next minute...
Collapsed!
The lads carried me to the castle and my chamber.
I could see the horror written on their faces
as I vomited black blood over myself and the sheets.
My death was not how I had pictured it would be.
And now I watch them all.
It's Saturday and the men gather in the lower chamber,
thinking about their own mortality.
One of them collapses to the floor.
There is a fire burning,
so why does it feel cold?
Now it's Tuesday and two more are afflicted.
John has taken a turn and a servant is passed out in the gallery.
Both men are revived quickly.
John says there's evil afoot.
Why are they all so cold?
The surgeon has arrived from Aberdeen.
We'll not look while he preserves my mortal remains.
Once he has completed his grim task,
my corpse is removed to the castle's chapel
where I will lie until my burial.
They lock and secure my private room.
So imagine everyone's horror
when they hear something stirring in the locked room.
They stare at each other with wide, fearful eyes.
Do their ears deceive them?
The room is locked.
The room is empty.
The light is fading fast on this October evening,
but my brother Patrick screws up his courage to investigate.
He bids John to unlock the door to my chamber.
They step into the room.
Terrified the pair dash out of my chamber
seeking the safety of their companions in the great hall.
They gabble their story to the gathered company,
who shrink back in fear.
The cowards!
The evening wears on.
The light is gone.
The room seems still.
They take courage from that.
They light candles and ever so cautiously make their way back to my room.
Look at them all creeping through the castle.
They arrive at the door
All is peaceful within.
Can it be that there is nothing here?
Or... have I... risen again?