Archipoeta
The Kingston Cavaliers
Gather round, ye children, this eve is of all
Hallowed men
and Hallowed souls of Heaven. Before the feast of
Heaven
it is said that devils roam the world to wreck
havoc, before
the truce of God that stays even the wicked in
their lair.
Come close, for night abounds with visions that
would
make the weaker man cringe in fright. All unseen
for one
night becomes visible, as much as men can bear.
Tonight
then, I shall tell ye of the legend of the Kingston
Cavaliers.
You know this wood is known as Indian Wells, but
scarce
know why and how it got its name. Long ago the
first nations
of this land found their home here: a village and
tribe many
and peaceful, untouched by the disease of the Englishmen.
Those farmers that came into the mountains made
peace,
and were friendly to their neighbors. And this
valley,
blessed by God gave plenty to them both: prosperity
and
happiness filled the people, until the war of
independence.
Then the farmers were called to arms, and brother
against
brother set, one for Crown and other for Congress
fought,
calling the first nations to their side. The nation
of the valley
chose no side, but gave aid and comfort to the
loyal of the King.
When the regimen called Kingston Cavaliers was
coming up
to fight at Saratoga’s hills, they switched to
fight for George
of Washington, and vowed vengeance upon the allied
of the
Brits. Through the valley, friendly to the King,
they pillaged.
At last they came to the village here, known by the
English
as Indian Wells, for the river-land and hills were
filled with
wells of sweet and flowing water. Land so rich lay
here that
it swelled with fruit and gave onto the people rich
harvest.
So with lust of greed in eye, they ransacked the
village, these
men known as the Kingston Cavaliers: raping and
slaughtering,
babe from mother was pried, thrown into well and
river alike
to die with the nation: massacre done by brutal
sword and fire.
One family escaped with child just like you: last
son and last
daughter of the people of the valley. Looking at
earth and home
razed by marauders they cried: O God, these
monsters lay low,
let your justice be done, and this land curse with
rock and sceptre!
The Just Lord gave them safe conduct through the
night, to
their allies in the West, but then turned to the
Kingston Cavaliers,
sleeping sound after feast of corn, pig, goat, and
squash taken
from the ruins, lying as if mocking high heaven
with treachery.
God said: “This sentence I pronounce against the
Kingston
Cavaliers: not one of them showed mercy, not one
shall taste
My Mercy. All shall die from brother saber in their
slumber,
and roam the Earth as exiles until they burn in
eternal fire.”
Thereupon a Yankee company spotted the Kingston Cavaliers,
and taking their chance within the night, killed
each redcoat with
cut of saber to the heart. By the mourning the
massacre was
doubled, the land a hellscape, a place filled with
despair and sorrow.
The Cavaliers laid unburied, and by some divine
Punishment,
their remains turned into stone, and sunk beneath
the rich earth.
It rocky tract of land became, an unsuitable farm,
until some
American bought these hills, and pulled again from
them grain.
But all that lived here had no peace, all who farmed
saw strange
and harrowing sight as the plowed the ground:
mother with child
on her back walking listless in the night, a
mouthless cry of child,
even the spontaneous fire that brightened distant
phantom house.
Men have died of strange poison in the ancient
wells found,
blood instead of water was spurting from the
ground. And all
these horrors multiply on eve of Hallows-day, as
you roam
the roads in search of sweet treats, in festive and
merry garb.
Yea, beware! Beware the sceptres of the accursed
Kingston
Cavaliers! I dare ye step outside the threshold of
house in
the darkest hour of the night, or even be away from
bed
and ready light then: lest you hear their whisper
that heart stops.
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