The Dance of Death
“I could hear the clicking of their bones as they gradually drew closer, a circle tightening like the noose about a felon’s neck. The sweat was pouring from my body and I could barely breathe. I gasped for air, great rasping sounds forcing themselves from my chest and throat. One of the skeletons reached out a hand and took me by the shoulder.
‘Wake up, Roger!’ Eloise’s voice, full of alarm, sounded in my ear as she shook me violently. ‘What is it? Are you ill?’ I struggled to sit up, shivering suddenly as the chill of the bedchamber – the fire had long ago dwindled away to ashes – stroked my clammy skin. ‘No, no!’ I assured her. ‘Just riding the night mare, that’s all. Thank you for rousing me. I’m well enough.’ ‘Praise heaven for that,’ she said, snuggling down under the bedclothes again. ‘You had me worried for a moment. Mind you,’ she added, ‘I’m not surprised you’re having bad dreams. I’ve had a few myself. What do we do tomorrow? Or today as I suppose it is by now.
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