Chapter 4:The Dancing Curse
The morning following the great feast held in honor of John’s restored health dawned bright, and all within the house awoke content, the warmth of the sun stealing gently through the windows. Emily was already about her tasks, moving briskly through her chores, whilst in the kitchen the cooks busied themselves with the preparation of breakfast. The scent of fresh bread and warm porridge filled the air, mingling with the faint perfume of flowers that Kathrine had placed upon the sill the evening prior. Kinder and Kathrine readied themselves for the day, their movements deliberate and calm, while John, seated with pen in hand, set his thoughts to paper within his journal. Yet of William there was no sign, and none could say where he had gone.
It was near unto the village square that they came upon him at last. There was William, capering in the open, his feet striking the stones with quick and restless measure. At first some laughed, thinking him yet merry from the feast, for he leapt and spun as one caught in the joy of song, though no music played. “Look you, William is still in his revels!” cried one, a merchant wiping the sweat from his brow. But ere long a murmur rose among the onlookers, for his dance did not cease, nor did he answer when called. His face was drawn, his eyes distant, yet still his body moved, tireless and unyielding, as though bound to a tune none else could hear.
The villagers began to circle around him, unsure whether to rejoice or fear, whispering to one another in low voices. “He hath had too much of the feast,” said one woman, clutching her shawl. “Methinks he needs rest,” another ventured, though even her words carried doubt. Children hid behind carts, peeking out with wide eyes, while a dog barked nervously at the strange and ceaseless motion of William’s feet.
As Emily made her way unto the market, she too beheld William in his strange merriment. Stepping nearer, she called, “Master William, pardon me, but what sport is this thou makest?” Yet he gave her no heed, nor lifted his eyes from the ground, but only stamped and whirled the faster, as though her words were but wind passing by. She took a step closer, her heart tightening, yet hesitated to reach him, for something in the vacant look of his eyes chilled her more than the morning air.
She knew at once that something was amiss, and in sudden fear she let fall her basket, the wares spilling upon the stones, clattering among the startled onlookers. Hastening back unto the house in all haste, she burst through the door, crying aloud, “Master, Master!”
Kinder, startled by her manner, turned quickly toward her. “What troubles thee, Emily?” he asked, his brow knit with both concern and confusion.
“It is Master William,” Emily gasped, scarce able to catch her breath. “Something is sorely amiss!”
At her cry, Kathrine and John hastened into the hall, drawn by the clamor, their faces full of wonder at what might cause such alarm. John’s eyes fell upon Emily, and a quiet pang of concern stirred within him. She ran so fast, so recklessly, and he feared for her safety, though he said nothing, masking his worry beneath a calm demeanor. His thoughts lingered on the possible dangers of the square, of sharp stones or careless feet, yet he remained still, letting Kinder take the lead.
Without a word, they hurried after her, following the sound of her hurried steps to the village square. There, amid the morning bustle of market folk, they beheld William as he danced still, heedless of all about him. His movements were strange and frantic now, a relentless rhythm that seemed to drive itself from some unseen source. The laughter of onlookers had faded to uneasy murmurs, and a chill ran through the crowd, though none yet knew what dread had taken hold.
Emily stood apart, clutching her skirts, her breath coming in quick gasps as she watched him whirl and stamp upon the stones. Kinder, stepping forward, knelt beside William, examining him closely. “’Tis no ailment I have ever known,” he muttered, his brow furrowed. “His pulse beats wild, yet steady; his limbs move with a force he cannot control. God grant me wisdom, for I know not what malady seizes him so.”
John’s eyes flicked toward Emily, noting her pale face and trembling hands, and a quiet pang of concern stirred within him. He said nothing, merely masking it beneath a calm expression, even as his thoughts lingered on her. Emily, in turn, caught the brief weight in his gaze, yet could not name it, turning her attention back to William as fear took hold of her heart.
The villagers had now gathered in fuller number, murmuring among themselves. Some shook their heads, laughing nervously, unable to comprehend the spectacle; others crossed themselves, murmuring prayers. The baker muttered of curses, the smith spoke of the old tales that warned of strange afflictions, and the children, frightened and fascinated, kept their distance. Even the dogs and horses seemed uneasy, restless as though sensing some unseen force.
William’s eyes, wide and vacant, met none of theirs, and his body continued its tireless motion, as though bound to a tune only he could hear. Kathrine whispered a prayer beneath her breath, crossing herself repeatedly, and Emily bit her lip, fearful yet powerless. Kinder placed a steadying hand upon William’s shoulder, murmuring softly, checking his vitals and noting the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Even he could not disguise his unease, though he clenched his jaw and spoke calmly, hiding the worry that gnawed at him.
At last, with sudden faltering, William collapsed to his knees, gasping, his arms flailing in a frantic arc. Kinder supported him with all his strength, guiding him gently as the villagers stepped back, unsure whether to assist or flee. John remained near Emily, his gaze briefly catching hers again, a silent acknowledgment of her fear, though neither spoke of it aloud. The sun shone bright above them, yet the warmth seemed hollow, shadowed by the strange and terrible sight.
And so it was that on that bright and sunny morn, beneath the warm glow of the rising sun, the first tremors of the great dancing curse were revealed. Hearts grew heavy, minds troubled, and a silent, unspoken dread took hold among all who witnessed it, for none could name the force that had seized William, nor tell whether it might strike again, and upon whom it would fall next.
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