No matter how hard he tries, this nasty little guy keeps trying to stab or stone someone.I guess he just had a hard life lurking behind ancient ruins feeding on flesh and bones I guess ... Red Caps are hard to tame although this apparently little man named Maurice seems to be a bit nicer than some of his other "nice" ones. comrades I met earlier in my travels.
Anyway yesterday afternoon after a "quiet and relaxed", after tea he told me a little more about his sad story ... with these creatures you never know as they tend to be a bit of a liar. Maurice Sangpatte used to be a very handsome French lad, a full-blown rascal and playboy in the early 1800s, he used to flirt excessively with high-born ladies, and he got into trouble because of that. Bets and loans that he could not pay and "some" newborns that he did not want to recognize were some of the issues that made him enlist in Napoleon's army before they marched into the fields of Spain; Not having a family and an extensive curriculum of more than enough murky affairs opened the doors for him immediately under the command of General Sebastiani, who marched with 26,000 infantry, 4,000 horsemen, and 40 guns toward the Toledan plains.
Maurice never took war too seriously (or anything in his life), instead he only thought about skirts and lips, money and beer and it never crossed his mind that showing up drunk in battle would turn into a problem as such, until he died; And he did it twice, let's say ...
It is a pity that a stray bullet pierced his beating heart when he fled far away leaving his wounded companions behind; He fell like lead and dust and blood filled his mouth, his cold fingers spread wide and spread out over the mud, and a leather bag ... 33 pieces of dirty silver stolen from the pocket of his "best" friend in the regiment while who in his agony shouted aloud "s'il te plaît!" Do not leave me behind. And there was Maurice, never too enthusiastic, never too kind in his empty existence, lying in the rain, sleeping in the black mud. His dead body, his soul already condemned.
Today he hides and lurks, his petty laugh is heard on the blackest nights, hungry for revenge, looking for fun ... there are no more ladies, no more drinks, no more money, no more bets; Only blood, hot blood that he seeks avidly, red blood to stain his twisted cap; There he awaits, lurking, sheltered in the ancient stones and hidden under the cloak of the blackest night.