There's a part of the old catacombs beneath the castle that's been left exposed to the public, a little slice of history according to the pamphlets and a glimpse into hell according to the tour guides when they're a drink or three in and more open about the nature of their work.
The tours only started as a way to keep a steady stream of fresh eyes on the exposed tombs in cased anything tried to get too close to the bars. Then came the "tradition" of throwing pennies in and aiming for the stairwell at the far end of the viewable area "for luck" and totally not to frighten away anything that might have been lingering just out of sight.
Occasionally a visitor would claim they saw the shadows move or heard the sound of scurrying footsteps echoing down the steps but these were put down to dodgy lighting and mice rather than the bundles of limbs-and-too-many-teeth that actually lived down there and would rather like to be up where the people are instead for totally no reason at all.
When one did get out, back in the early days just after the last private owner knocked down the wall that revealed the catacombs, the first thing it did was sit in the sunlight and bare every tooth on its glistening, twitching little body in what they could only hope was a smile.
Just when they thought it might be peaceful it lept into the air and came back down with the bloodied remains of a swan. For ten agonisingly long minutes it just played with and tormented the dying bird while everyone else kept their distance.
It darted off before anybody could catch it and return it or kill it but ever since that day all of the others have wanted their turn in the sun. They used to attack each other for a chance to even touch the metal bars but now they just skulk on the stairs and wait for our backs to be turned for just the right amount of time.
None of us want to be the next swan.
The tours only started as a way to keep a steady stream of fresh eyes on the exposed tombs in cased anything tried to get too close to the bars. Then came the "tradition" of throwing pennies in and aiming for the stairwell at the far end of the viewable area "for luck" and totally not to frighten away anything that might have been lingering just out of sight.
Occasionally a visitor would claim they saw the shadows move or heard the sound of scurrying footsteps echoing down the steps but these were put down to dodgy lighting and mice rather than the bundles of limbs-and-too-many-teeth that actually lived down there and would rather like to be up where the people are instead for totally no reason at all.
When one did get out, back in the early days just after the last private owner knocked down the wall that revealed the catacombs, the first thing it did was sit in the sunlight and bare every tooth on its glistening, twitching little body in what they could only hope was a smile.
Just when they thought it might be peaceful it lept into the air and came back down with the bloodied remains of a swan. For ten agonisingly long minutes it just played with and tormented the dying bird while everyone else kept their distance.
It darted off before anybody could catch it and return it or kill it but ever since that day all of the others have wanted their turn in the sun. They used to attack each other for a chance to even touch the metal bars but now they just skulk on the stairs and wait for our backs to be turned for just the right amount of time.
None of us want to be the next swan.
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