The armies clashed on the plain north of Ghastly Wood, the great dark forest that covered most of Northern Retslu. A thousand pike men and two hundred knights under the leadership of King Dunking charged up the slight rise toward the massed archers of King Brog of Neerg. Leading the left flank was Count Poperazi, a fierce man with black curly hair and an unruly beard. He was a ferocious fighter and a clever knight with ambitions to expand his holdings beyond its present four square leagues. Hence, he had volunteered, and with him his villeins and his kinsmen to fight for King Dunking and thereby win his favor.

All around Poperazi, men fell from the rain of arrows. He kicked his black stallion into a full gallop until he was among the enemy. He loped off heads right and left with his immense broadsword and trampled archers under the hooves of his great charger. Whipping his steed into a frenzy of speed, he swept past foot soldiers towards the green pennant--emblazoned with the serpent--to intercept King Brog and his royal guard. Since Borg kept his best knights near at all times, Poperazi expected to end up a martyr rather than a hero. But Poperazi was no coward. His own kin considered him foolhardy. Once committed to combat, he battled with the insane bloodlust of a berserker.

To Poperazi's dismay, Brog's court sorcerer, the dreaded Mordalf, was by the king's side. Mordalf turned to the Retsluean knight bearing down on the king's position and raised his arms to cast a spell. He was too late. The Count's attack was so swift and ferocious that before Mordalf could speak one word of sorcery, Poperazi lopped off his head. King Brog quickly kicked his steed into action, fleeing in the direction of the border. The knights that guarded his person followed. This led to a general rout. The Neerg army fled after their king with panicked speed.

Poperazi continued his wild chase until he realized the enemy army was in full retreat. He reined up his snorting, panting steed.

"There, there, boy." He patted the horse's neck to sooth it. "The battle's over."

He laughed as he watched the Neerg army--which rumor had branded invincible--flee in all directions.

King Dunking rode up and patted him on the back. "Good work, Cousin. You're a great hero, killing the dreaded Mordalf. I venture that no other knight would have the sheer gall to attempt such a feat."

"Thank you, Your Highness." Nonetheless, Poperazi was not pleased with what sounded like a backhanded compliment. If he were king, he would not treat a knight who had single-handedly defeated an entire army in such a manner. He was about to offer a rude comment when he noticed something lying on the ground. "Your Highness, may I keep that as a souvenir of battle?"

"Keep what, Count?"

"Mordalf's head."

"If that is your pleasure." He gave Poperazi a strange look, as though wondering why anyone would want such a grizzly thing.

Poperazi surprised even himself. His first thought was that he deserved something for the action he had taken for the king, but there was more to it than that. Some force worked on his mind. A great desire to have that head had overwhelmed him, a desire so deep that he could not possibly leave the awful thing where it lay.

Poperazi dismounted, picked up the head, tossed it into the air and caught it. Afterwards he tied it by its hair to his saddle and rode away from Dunking alone. Anxious to return home to celebrate with his beautiful young wife, Lady Mabeline, he took a shortcut through Ghastly Wood. His knights and villeins returned by a different route, because of superstitious nonsense that ghosts, vampires and other supernatural beings haunted the forest. These tales drove off all but the most courageous.

When darkness fell in the already gloomy forest, Poperazi lit a lantern, which produced a small circle of light. Darkness, thick and tangible, surrounded him. He and his steed knew the path well and moved steadily along. After some time, he heard whispering. At first, he dismissed it as an animal or bird cry in the otherwise silent woods, but the whispers grew louder. He recognized words. Someone repeated his name over and over.

"Who goes there?" he shouted. "Who calls me?"

Poperazi halted his steed and swung the lantern in a circle, but saw no one. Shrugging, he continued.

They say these woods are haunted. Perhaps it is a spirit that hails me. I will pay it no mind.

"It's me, Mordalf."

Poperazi heard the voice distinctly, nearby. It startled him. "Mordalf?"

He lowered the lantern near the head. To his amazement and horror, Mordalf's open eyes stared at him. The head's lips parted.

"Yes, it's me speaking. I'm a great sorcerer. Did you think a small thing like separating my head from my body would actually kill me?" The grizzly thing let out an evil laugh, the most awful sound Poperazi had ever heard.

Poperazi was stunned and in a quandary. Should he smash the horror? Keep it, although it was not dead? Bury it? Throw it away? What?

"I know what you're thinking. Do not act hastily. We can help each other."

"How? In your condition, what could you possibly do for me?"

"For one thing I can tell you of future events, Baron Poperazi."

Poperazi laughed. "Tell my future. You do not even know my rank. I am a mere Count."

"And I say to you, by this time tomorrow, you shall be a Baron. But that's only the beginning. I know you to be an ambitious man. You could use my sorcery to further your aims. I could teach you to do magic."

Poperazi rubbed his chin. "And what payment would you demand to perform such a service?"

"Simple. In my present circumstances, I'm a man without hands to grasp with, without feet to travel. I'm helpless. I need you to be my hands and feet."

"To do what? Feed you? Wait on you night and day?"

"Nay. Without a body, I require no sustenance, neither food nor water. My needs are few. Simply keep me safe from harm. Take me with you on your travels. Have your servants amuse me on occasion and read to me."

"I'll have to think it over. After all, you were my enemy earlier today."

"And now I'm your prisoner, your slave really. I'm absolutely helpless. I can do nothing to harm you."

"We'll see." Poperazi urged his steed forward, anxious to learn the truth of Mordalf's prophesy. On this event hinged whether or not he would accept the sorcerer's proposal.

When Poperazi entered his castle grounds, he kept to the shadows. He did not want anyone to know about Mordalf's head just yet. In fact, he had become ashamed that he had taken it. After stabling his steed, he went to the falconer's barn, removed an extra cage, placed the head inside it and covered it with a cloth. With the cage in hand, he entered the castle, went directly to his suite, and placed the awful thing on a chest of drawers. Behind him, Lady Mabe stretched and said, "Poppy, is that you?"

"Yes dear, I've returned. The battle went all our way. We soundly defeated old King Brog."

"How wonderful. I was so worried. People have told me that in battle you have no thought for your own life. Shall I have a servant bring wine to celebrate?"

"Nay. It's near dawn. I would not disturb their slumber." Poperazi gazed longingly at her great beauty as she lit a lamp by her bed. "I have another idea of how we might celebrate King Dunking's victory." He removed his garments.

Lady Mabe giggled and shook her finger at him playfully. "Oh, you naughty boy."

As they made love, Poperazi had the chilling feeling that Mordalf's sunken evil eyes watched them, although the cloth that covered the cage was thick and not at all transparent.

The sun was high in the sky when a servant rapped at Poperazi's door. He rubbed his eyes and stretched.

"What is it?" he asked, grumpily.

The servant entered and bowed. "Sorry to disturb your slumber, Your Excellency, but a messenger from King Dunking has arrived. He says that it is of great importance."

"Have him wait in the foyer. I'll be down shortly."

After the servant departed, Poperazi arose, rinsed his face from the washbowl and dressed leisurely. By that time, Lady Mabe had also awakened. Poperazi kissed her. "A messenger from the king awaits with news. I'll only be a moment."

She smiled at him. "I'll be waiting with baited breath, my darling." Her gaze fell upon the covered cage. "What's that?"

Poperazi coughed nervously. "Nothing darling, simply a souvenir of the battle."

"But what is it? It cannot be a sword or any sort of weapon; its case is the wrong size. It looks like a bird cage. Is it a bird? May I see it?"

"No! I'll show it to you later. Don't touch it, or even go near it, until I return." He kissed her again and left the room before she could ask any more questions.

The messenger was flirting with a maid when Poperazi strode down the stone steps from the upper rooms. Upon spotting Poperazi, he scooted her away, bowed and handed the Count a scroll. "Shall I wait for a reply, Your Excellency?"

"Nay. Leave. If further communication is required, I'll send one of my own men."

The messenger saluted and departed.

Poperazi broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. It read: "Greetings Cousin, I was much impressed by your valor in today's battle. It was your courage that turned the tide in our favor. Hence, I am awarding you Retslu's highest honor, the Purple Double-Cross, which I shall present to you next week, Thorsday, if you would do me the honor of being present at court. In addition, I have decided to raise your rank to Baron and award you eight hectares of land adjoining your current holdings. Humbly Yours, His Majesty, King Dunking."

"So, Mordalf's prophesy came true," he muttered. "I wonder what else that head can do for me."

Meanwhile, Lady Mabe's curiosity had bested her. She walked all around the cage wondering what could be within. Poperazi had said it was not a bird, although the cage was definitely a birdcage. Perhaps it's an animal, she thought. But it seemed unlikely that he would retrieve an animal from a battlefield. "It could be a helmet," she mumbled. "But why put it in a cage?"

Finally she could stand it no longer. She simply had to see it, despite her husband's order. She picked up a corner of the cloth and peeked. She dropped it immediately and almost swooned. "What could he be thinking bringing such a horrible thing into our home? And placing it here in our bedroom!"

As she backed away from the awful thing, a muffled voice said, "Please remove the cloth."

She brought her hand up to her mouth. The voice had come from the cage. Her first impulse was to run from the room, but the voice pleaded, "Please, I've been in the dark a long time. Take the cloth off the cage." It sounded so pathetic that her heart went out to it. She cautiously approached the cage, snatched off the cloth and leaped away.

Mordalf's eyes blinked a few times. "Thank you, Madam, I am in your debt. I was becoming bored. But, I'm being rude. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mordalf formerly King Brog's court sorcerer. Since your husband separated my head from my body, I'm his prisoner."

Lady Mabe gasped, her eyes going wide. "What? What are you talking about? How can you speak?"

"I'm a sorcerer with powers over life and death. In the battle yesterday, your husband gravely wounded me, but since I am immortal, not mortally. In my present state, I'm dependent upon him."

"But why--why did he bring you here."

"So that I might prophesy and teach him sorcery. I can make him king."

"King? How? He is not a direct descendent of Dunking. Besides, Dunking is young and will likely live many years longer than my Poppy." Nonetheless, Mabe wondered if such a thing was possible. She was pregnant and hadn't told Poperazi yet. It would be a wonderful thing to found a dynasty.

"Allow me, Baroness Mabeline, to speak of you and your husband's future. Dunking shall perish before the moon goes through its next cycle. In the king's will, your esteemed husband shall be named heir. He will reign until Ghastly Wood marches upon Castle Klinton."

At that moment, Poperazi entered the room. Mabe pointed to the head. "That awful thing just made the most amazing prophesy. Now take it and bury it."

"Wait, dear Mabe. Look at this. Dunking has made me a Baron and doubled my holdings. Mordalf's head prophesied this boon." He showed his wife the scroll and told her about the battle, his taking of the head and what it had told him. She rested her head against his chest and related what Mordalf had told her concerning their future and the fact that she was pregnant.

"I shall be king then. And father a dynasty."

Mordalf's head grinned wickedly and stared at the happy couple with demonic eyes. He did not speak of what else lay in store for them.

The following Midweek, Poperazi and Mabe, with an entourage of servants, guards, and luggage, journeyed to King's Town.

At first Poperazi wanted to leave Mordalf's head at home, but the sorcerer said, "I can be of use to you at court. Once you're named heir apparent, many will accuse you of being a usurper, placing you in mortal danger. You'll need my necromancy to protect you." Poperazi had his servants place the covered cage in a wagon with his personal luggage.

Great pomp and festivities, including a grand ball, greeted Poperazi and Mabe to Castle Klinton. The following day, King Dunking held court where he formally bestowed the Purple Double-Cross on Poperazi, officially made him a Baron and deeded over the lands that he had promised. There was another celebration, and the couple were invited to stay as long as they wished.

The following day Dunking sent for Poperazi. When the Baron entered the king's study, Dunking was reading a great tome, licking his thumb each time he turned a page. He looked up and said, "Have a seat, Cousin. We have important matters to discuss."

Poperazi bowed, took the indicated chair, and said, "Thank you, Your Majesty, for all the kindness you have shown me. I'm grateful."

Dunking waved a hand of dismissal. "No gratitude is necessary. You deserved everything you received, and more. That's why I summoned you. Of all my relatives, you're the most intelligent, brave and confident, all virtues needed in a ruler. Hence, with your permission, I wish to make you my heir apparent."

"I am greatly honored, Sire, but what of your son, Blinken."

"Alas, Blinken is a hothead and a fool. He would not make a good king. It's my duty to Retslu to ensure that the next monarch be competent."

"It's all academic anyway, Your Majesty. You're ten years younger than I and in good health. There's no reason you should not outlive me."

Dunking winked. "I certainly hope so."

At that time, Lady Mabe prepared for the evening's ball in their suite. As she sat at her dressing table, powdering her bosom and arranging her hair into various styles before her mirror, a whisper came from the cage which sat on the sill so that Mordalf could view the activities in the courtyard. "Baroness, I have something to tell you."

Although it horrified her to look at the wretched thing, she turned and gazed into its evil eyes. That was a mistake, for she could not turn away and came under Mordalf's power. In a trance she asked, "What do you want?"

"In order for my prophecy that the Baron become king come true, certain things must be accomplished. You must have a servant go into Ghastly Wood and harvest a certain plant which I'll describe to you. Also, something that is needed is in the knapsack that I'd carried into battle. My steed is yet wandering around the battlefield. Have someone find it and bring the knapsack here."

"As you wish."

She covered the head and ordered servants to obtain the items that Mordalf requested. Subsequently, she forgot that the head had spoken to her.

The servant carried the plants into Mabe and Poperazi's suite that afternoon. The newly anointed Baron asked Mabe about them. She replied, "I don't recollect why had the maid pick them, but they are pretty. I'll dry and press them for decorations."

When her husband left to go hunting with King Dunking, Mabe had a sudden urge to remove the cloth from Mordalf's cage. Again, the sorcerer stared at her with demonic eyes. He said, "I will now tell you what to do with the plants."

Mabe followed his directions exactly, picking off the leaves and grinding them fine. She mixed them with wine and other common ingredients. The potion steamed and boiled for a while and finally settled into a clear paste. About that time, the servant arrived with the knapsack from Mordalf's steed. She removed a small book from it and applied the paste to the corners of each page. When she finished this tedious task, she placed the book in a box, which she wrapped with brightly-colored paper and tied it with a ribbon.

That evening, Poperazi and Mabe were invited to dine with the king. Afterwards, the two couples, King Dunking and Queen Beth, and Baron Poperazi and Baroness Mabeline, retired to a sitting room to chat. While the servants served cordials and coffee, Mabe presented a gift to the monarch. "This is a little memento for all your kindness to us since we've been your guests, Your Majesty."

As Dunking unwrapped his present, Mabe stared demurely at her hands. To her dismay, she discovered a red spot that resembled fresh blood on her palm. She snatched her handkerchief from her cleavage and wiped at it. Her hanky turned red, but the stain on her palm remained. Horrorstricken, she stuffed the cloth back between her breasts and clasped her hands together to hide them from sight.

By the time Mabe glanced up, Dunking had opened the box and was examining the book. "'The Sayings of the Nowhere Philosophers.' How marvelous. I've always wanted this book. I can't wait to delve into it. Thank you, Baron and Baroness. It's a marvelous gift."

They chatted a while longer. At one point, Poperazi whispered to Mabe, "You're quiet tonight."

"I have a bit of a headache. Could we excuse ourselves?"

When they returned to their apartment, Mabe went to the washbasin and tried to wash out the stains on her palms. "Out, out, damn spot," she cried, but the redness remained.

"What's the matter, My Dear?"

Mabe turned with a guilt-ridden expression. "Nothing Poppy." Then she burst into tears. When Poperazi put his arms around her to comfort her, she whispered in his ear. "Very soon, you'll be crowned king."

"What are you talking about, Mabe?"

Little by little, she told him how the head had given her directions on how to poison the book. When she finished, Poperazi cried, "I knew that sorcerer's head was an evil thing. I must warn His Majesty."

Mabe wouldn't let him leave. "If you tell Dunking what I did, he'll charge me with treason and attempted regicide. Is that what you want? Besides, you still wish to become the king, Poppy, don't you?"

"But Dunking was my friend. He was always good to me--to us."

"Do you want your son to inherit the Kingdom of Retslu or have a mother who was decapitated?"

Poperazi held his wife tightly. "I love you, Mabe. I want our child to be a prince. Dunking must die."

The next morning a servant bearing the news that Dunking had died of a mysterious ailment while reading in his study awoke them. Poperazi wept in genuine sorrow and remorse. He went to Mordalf's head, meaning to destroy it, but was caught by its demon eyes.

"Do not blame me," the sorcerer said. "You know that Dunking's death was what you wished all along. That's why you kept me and why you didn't warn him about the book. Don't blame Baroness Mabeline either. She simply carried out what you desired in your heart."

Poperazi cursed Mordalf, but did nothing.

The funeral was held with all the pomp and spectacle befitting a monarch. Poperazi and Mabe wept longer and harder than any other at court. When the Baron eulogized his cousin and former king, he spoke of his goodness and leadership. There were great dark rings under his eyes, not from weeping, but from lack of sleep. Not only did his conscience keep him awake, but Mabe had begun to act irrational, continually scrubbing her hands and muttering about blood on them. She always wore gloves.

Days after the funeral, Chief Magister Charles called the relatives and other interested parties together for the reading of the will. When everyone was seated in the Round Office of the castle, Charles removed a scroll from his safe and solemnly read many "therein's" and "therefore's" and "parties of" in a pompous, boring style. There was much language about deeding property and treasure to each relative, friend and faithful servant.

Finally, Prince Blinken, who had restlessly paced in the back of the room, cried, "Get on with it, Man. Who has he named his heir apparent? Who shall rule this land?"

"Ahem. I was coming to that part. Ah . . . 'To ensure that our fair Kingdom of Retslu is ruled justly, competently and courageously, I hereby name as my heir, Baron Poperazi of Yelruh.'"

Blinken stormed to the front of the room and drew his short sword. "What! That's impossible. I'm his son. Let me see that." He ripped the will from Charles's hand, read the offending paragraph and threw it to the floor. "This must not be." He glared at Poperazi. "And who shall rule in case something dread should happen to this varlet." He pointed the sword at him.

Charles picked up the will and said, "You're named as heir should Baron Poperazi be unable to mount the throne for any reason."

Blinken squinted his eyes. "Be warned, Poperazi, you usurper. I don't know by what means you talked my father into this, but you'd better watch your back." He stomped from room. Soon hoof beats echoed from the courtyard. Witnesses said that the youth rode north into the wilderness.

The crowning was held with the usual pomp and ceremony. Poperazi seemed haggard and wan as he solemnly bowed his head to receive the crown. People whispered about his illness and the new queen's strange behavior.

On a new moon night several weeks later, a shadow crept into Castle Klinton through the servant's entrance and up a secret staircase to the royal bedroom. Silent as a whisper, the shadow drew a dagger, went to the royal bed and stabbed the lump under the blankets several times. Blinken lit a lamp and cursed. He had killed only the queen. Poperazi was not there.

"Where is he?" Blinken cried.

A harsh voice from the direction of the dresser said, "He's gone on his nightly walk along the ramparts. He has not slept since he and the queen murdered your father, Prince Blinken."

Blinken stared in the direction of the speaker. Two evil eyes reflected the light of his lamp. "Who are you?"

"I am the sorcerer, Mordalf. If you take me with you, I'll help you regain your rightful place."

Blinken brought the lamp to the dresser. He recognized the head as Mordalf's. "So you're not actually dead as Poperazi claimed."

"No, but in my present condition, I'm helpless. Nonetheless, I can do what I claimed, help you gain the throne. Take me with you to Neerg, and I'll explain on the way."

"To Neerg? What makes you think that I'd go there? King Brog is an enemy."

"King Brog is a reasonable man. If you return me, his sorcerer, to him and promise to give him the disputed lands along the border, I can assure you that he'll aid you against the usurper."

"I see what you're getting at, but can Brog's army stand up against our army led by Poperazi. The Baron is an excellent warrior and strategist; I'll give him that. He practically defeated the Neerglanders single-handed in our last battle with them."

"That was mostly luck. Nonetheless, I have a plan that shall surely defeat him."

Blinken heard footsteps in the hallway. He quickly snatched up the cage with Mordalf's head, crawled out of the window onto a ledge, gained access to a parapet and leaped to the castle's outer wall, outside of which his steed awaited.

Sullenly, King Poperazi entered his bedroom and plodded over to his bed. Although he was sure that he would be unable to sleep, he slid under the covers and placed an arm around Queen Mabeline. She felt as cold as ice and a sticky liquid covered her.

"Mabe?" He whispered her name. "Are you all right?" No reply came. He rested his ear on her breast and heard no sound. He shook her. "Mabe!!" It was like shaking a marionette. Quickly, he rose and lit the lamp. He screamed and screamed, not stopping even after the servants and the guards arrived. "Beauty is dead. Someone has murdered love."

Poperazi was inconsolable. He sat all day in his room weeping and refused to speak. News reached him that rumors blamed Prince Blinken for the murder.

"The prince has had his revenge. May he be forever cursed."

Weeks later as he gazed sadly out of his window, he was greeted by a strange sight. The great Ghastly Forest was nearer than he remembered. It seemed to move closer as he watched. He recalled Mordalf's prophesy.

"So this is how it ends." He climbed to the highest tower and leaped off.

Meanwhile the woods encroached upon Castle Klinton. Suddenly, the trees turned into armed men, a mixture of Retsluean soldiers loyal to Prince Blinken and a portion of King Borg's forces. They took Poperazi's knights by surprise and killed or captured before they could form a defending force.

Once the castle was secured, Prince Blinken asked the head of Mordalf how he had transformed their army into moving trees.

"Elementary sorcery, my dear Prince," he said. "Now return me to King Brog so that I can be reunited with my body."

Blinken laughed. "My father always thought me a fool. But I am not so much a fool as to allow a powerful sorcerer to be given to a king who has his eyes upon our fair land." He covered the cage with a cloth and called in a naval captain. "Take this a hundred leagues out to sea and throw it overboard."

It is said, however, that Mordalf escaped this fate. News never reached King Blinken of the sorcerer's destiny, and none ever heard of the ship that carried it again.