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Henry Kempe was neither ordinary or extraordinary. He found himself stuck in a limbo, in a no man’s land in between the two.
Tall, gangly, and with feet big enough to be confused for flippers, Henry muddled through his childhood and teenage years with virtually no friends and little interaction from the rest of his family.
Being the fourth child of twelve, by the time Henry started feeling the depths of despair at his unknown place in the world, his mother was already pregnant with child number twelve and too busy running around after his younger siblings to worry for her eldest boy spending all his time in quiet solace.
When Henry finally hit thirteen, he found himself working in the stables at the court of King John. Whilst the work made sure he paid his way in life, the people he had to work with were not too compassionate where it concerned the weedy, under-muscled teenager.
By the age of eighteen, Henry towered above most in height, but his lack of stature made him as intimidating as a sunflower. As a result, he often found himself ridiculed and the target for any ill feeling to be taken out on.
Growing into his early adult years in such an oppressive atmosphere, constantly overshadowed by his fellow workers, it didn’t take much for Henry to soon find himself festering in deeply hidden emotions of anger and hatred.
He longed for something to happen so people would respect him and treat him with the dignity they treated each other with, regardless of social status. But currently, Henry happened to be nothing more than a lowly peasant punchbag who hauled manure from the King’s stables.
One June morning, Henry undertook an emergency market run for the cook. As he meandered through the cobbled streets heading for the fishmonger, he noticed a young girl following him.
Before he reached Mr Fish, a small hand curled around his forearm and dragged him into a small alley in between a pub and a stew-house.
“I can make all your dreams come true,” the girl said.
Henry looked down at the small female, barely reaching his shoulder in height. Wearing a black riding cape, her clothing and body were hidden from him.
What he could see of her were emerald green eyes full of conviction and strawberry blonde hair tumbling around her heart-shaped face in loose curls. Freckles dotted across her nose and cheeks and her pink lips all but hypnotised him as she spoke.
With the two of them pressed body to body in the tight gap between the brickwork, to any passers-by it simply looked like a dirty peasant being given his jollies for the day by one of the ladies from the stew-house.
Intrigue spurred Henry on with the conversation, although doubts raced through his mind at it being some sort of joke set up by his fellow workers.
“How so?” he asked, studying the girl’s smooth, porcelain skin.
“I can make you a hero. Make them all respect you like you deserve.” She paused and licked her lips. “I’ve been watching you, Henry, and I don’t like the way they treat you. You’re worth so much more.”
Truly captivated by this delicate female, Henry became lost to her—already sold on whatever idea she had in mind.
“I’m no ordinary girl, Henry. Name your greatest desire and it’s yours.”
“For what price? I have no money. If you’d been watching me, you’d know that.”
“I do know that,” she replied. “I have no price except you, dear Henry.”
Henry frowned, confused. Was she propositioning him? “Me?”
“I am of the same age as you and without a husband. My mother berates me constantly, telling me I am fat and ugly, that no man will ever want me as his bride. She says I am already spoiling my fertile years by not being with child already. I see an opportunity here, Henry, a business transaction that can benefit both you and me.”
He thought on her words for a moment, fighting with himself over her sincerity. “If you’ve been watching me like you say, why now?”
She smiled such a sweet smile, bees from a thousand miles would have mistaken her for nectar. “Because tonight is the summer solstice, Henry, and that means my powers are at their greatest.”
“You’re a witch.”
She nodded, her eyes gleaming with joy. “A very powerful one,” she whispered. “My name is Lenore. What do you think, Henry? Can we improve our lives together?”
He wanted to step back, to take a moment to think on this bizarre turn of events, but the small space they were cramped in prevented him from moving anywhere but sideways, back out into the bustling street.
“Where shall I meet you?”
Lenore shook her head and giggled. “I will find you.”
Left with only a quick peck on his cheek, Henry was soon alone again and wondering if he’d just imagined the strange turn of events. By the time he collected the goods from Mr Fish and returned to the castle, the cook was squawking for her food and smacked Henry around the ears for taking so long.
Trudging back into the stables with ringing ears and a headache, Henry made his mind up there and then that he was going to get the respect he deserved, no matter the cost.
***
IT WAS LATE THAT NIGHT as Henry walked to his small cot bed; his only reprieve from the cruel world he lived in.
Sat high up in the barn, nestled in the hayloft, he shared his space with field mice, a nest of sparrows, and the odd rat. He climbed the ladder to his bed, and when he saw Lenore’s pretty face staring back at him from his bed, very nearly tumbled backwards off the ladder.
“Hello, Henry,” she said, patting the bed next to her. “Are you ready for this?”
“What are we doing?” he whispered, checking over his shoulder that the only ears now alert were that of the rodents scurrying across the floor.
“I am going to give you a gift, Henry. First, myself, and then what you have always desired.”
Henry swallowed the small dry lump lodged in his throat. “What do you mean when you say ‘myself’?”
Lenore shrugged off the long white riding cape she wore. The hood tumbled back from her head, the weight of it pulling the fabric from her shoulders. When it hit the bed, Lenore sat naked in front of Henry, her cheeks flushed pink and her curvy body ready for a man.
“When the moon is at its highest, a wolf will break into the stables and savage the horses. Except this is no normal wolf, Henry. This wolf turned from a human. Only a man can kill it. To be a man, Henry, you must have...” she opened her legs to him “...been with a woman.”
Completely dumbstruck, Henry could do little else but follow her lead as she guided him in the essence of being a man. True to her word, after Henry had mated with her, an awful commotion started in the stables opposite the barn.
“Take its head, Henry,” Lenore whispered. “It’s the only way to kill it. Take my cape. My scent will distract it for a few seconds.”
Henry raced outside in his undergarments and Lenore’s white cape. He grabbed a pitchfork on his way into the stables and startled at the size of the beast feasting on one of the King’s horses.
Almost twice the size of the young thoroughbred it was feeding upon, the creature was a formidable sight. Shaggy black fur covered its entire body and its limbs were taut with defined muscles.
Upon sensing the scent of a female, it lifted its head from its meal and turned to face Henry. It closed its sickly yellow eyes and lifted its ugly, elongated snout into the air, twitching its nose back and forth as it figured out the mix of scents.
Remembering Lenore’s words, Henry launched himself at the huge monster, aiming his pitchfork for its neck.
The beast opened its eyes, but it was too late. The tapered points of the pitchfork had already pierced its neck, spraying Henry in its blood.
The creature sprang into action, fighting for its life as Henry held onto the pitchfork. The aggressive movements as Henry dangled off the handle only resulted in a sawing motion, further driving the cold metal into its neck.
When the beast swung around in an effort to fling Henry from the end of the pitchfork handle, it misjudged the width in the stables and caught the handle in the railings covering the windows.
With its weight and momentum, the creature stood no chance as the pitchfork was forced through its neck tissue, almost beheading it in one sweep.
With warm, sticky blood spurting from its neck like a fountain, Henry saw his opportunity to end it.
Using the handle for leverage, he placed his feet against the wall behind him and kicked himself towards the beast’s unsightly head. His bare feet connected with its snout, ripping more tissue open on its neck.
As he connected his fourth kick, the King’s men and the rest of the stable workers were awake and piling in through the door.
The beast’s head rolled from its bloody shoulders, coming to rest at the feet of none other than the Master of the Horse, and the Constable.
Henry stood, labouring for breath, covered in congealing blood in front of an audience who had bullied and victimised him for over five years.
The blank looks on their poker faces revealed nothing of surprise or horror for they were all too dumbfounded to react.
When the body of the beast started withering into that of a human, and the head also started to shrink into the facial features of a man, the onlookers erupted into cheers of ecstasy.
Grabbing Henry, they all but swept him off his feet as they marched him into the castle to be presented before the King and his court officials.
After hearing of the ghastly attack that had taken place in his stables, the King immediately granted Henry his freedom and blessed him with the duty of ridding the land of such wicked creatures.
“For every head you bring back, I shall pay you eight pounds.”
An audible gasp sounded throughout the great hall.
“But...your Majesty, that is eight times what I earn now.”
“I am aware of that,” the King said, ushering Henry away with his hands. “I can’t imagine there’s too many of these things roaming my lands.”
Henry bowed, a lightbulb immediately going off in his head as to what Lenore’s next move may be.
Giving King John his utmost thanks, he collected the horse and the swords he’d been gifted as a thank you, and rode out into the night, his pockets heavy with money and his heart full of hope.