…”Sir Grimsley finds himself separated from the rest in the eerie mists. He cannot account for how he lost his way and there is no one to answer his call. The stout knight is a company man, proud to wear the signet of Rheged on his ring and feels uneasy away from the regiment. His hair is a long mane of tight brown curls and his handsome face is normally full of charm and good humor, but now he is out of sorts. As he trudges through the wandering wood, he hears the frantic cries of a damsel in need echoing in the murky haze. Suddenly she appears before him in a ghostly white-pleated chiffon gown, which flaunts her sumptuous figure, diffused through the sheerness of it, and with her arms outreached, the floating folds and creases fan out like the feathery wings of a great white egret gliding towards him. She is a rare splendor with wild-eyed desperation.
“I beseech thee, fair knight…” her hair is abound in a beautiful mess, she looks distraught and disheveled in her plight. The diaphanous fabric clings to her damp skin from the dripping fog and is pulled askew off her bare shoulder. A trickle of blood stains the corner of her trembling mouth. “Help me… there is a cruel knight nigh upon us… I have escaped his pursuit only but for a moment!”
Grimsley is enthralled by her loveliness and impassioned by her rueful plea, he is in the prime of his youth and his courage runs hot.
“Upon my honor, I will defend thee from this miscreant…”
“Nay my lord! I must implore… for my life, taketh me hence, far away and swift as thy horse can flee… He is powerful, with a dark soul, full of malice and practiced in evil customs… I beg of you, please save me!”
He lifts her up into the saddle and heeds the adamant warning, albeit he would boldly challenge this foe in an affray with sword and shield. Her welfare is paramount – such men will always be ill-fated in turn – for now, he must obey his oath of chivalry and bring her to safety. They charge blindly down the obscured trail, she is aghast with fright, her nails digging into his ribs with terror. Full speed and free they fled, never looking back.
“Aye… aye… aye…” she weeps and wails in breathless relief as she bounces up and down behind him to the galloping strides of the snorting destrier. Her bare feet dangle without stirrups to the rhythm of the racing hooves below, her inner thighs squish hard and repeatedly against the pounding leather. “O my champion! … Ooh… mercy me… faster! … O how blessed thou art… aye! … Aye!!”
Louder she cries, gasping as she pulls firmly on his hair, reining his head backward, then drives her fangs voraciously into his neck. His blood spurts warm and thick through her craving lips, groaning deep as she tightens her rigid hold with insurmountable strength. The horse’s pace winds down to a halt as Grimsley’s unforeseen fight is over. Caught in her alluring snare, he falls asunder to the ground, pallid and slain. With a smoldering laugh, the immortal Ailleann rides off into the mists”.