In that kingdom’s darkened hall we met
among fireside rituals fussed and fret;
knowing inwardly we hoped against hope,
preaching failed expectations, still we groped.
The Watchers Book lines 41-44
Translated by Christopher M. Townsend
Robert E. Howard's graveEPILOGUE
After finger sandwiches, chips and dip, several cappuccinos and rest room breaks later; it was Arlene’s final turn that finished up the group reading of the manuscript. Casey looked solemn faced with tears welling. Stewart began packing his long churchwarden pipe with fresh tobacco, and through gritted teeth told Jacob, “See, brother, I knew the wait to meet you would be worth it, better than the dreams, ’eh?”
Jacob smiled a bizarre understanding grin back at him, then glancing at Arlene’s sniffle, patted her leg softly.
Little over a year and a half later, and months of editing, Stewart and Jacob put their financial inheritance to work, finally publishing their grandfather’s book; some thirty-five years after Christopher’s death. In it, they included drawings that Allen Carter had made during their original archeological discovery, as well as photographs of the tablets, genealogies from the story, and indexes of peculiar words and meanings found within its epic tale. They both shared their dreams, the contents of the footlocker, and antidotes about each item, as well as exerts from their grandfather’s journal and private letters.
Two weeks after their book made print, Jacob drove out to the Greenleaf cemetery, in Brownwood, and parked his car beside the stone gateway. Finding his grandfather’s grave, two rows beyond Robert E. Howard’s historical marker, Jacob placed a copy of the Nephilim book and a dozen roses on the head stone. About that time another man, whom Jacob assumed was the caretaker, strolled up to him and said hello. Jacob suddenly felt all the blood in his face drain as his recognized the man from an old photograph.
Reading his expression, Dale tried to relieve Jacob’s anxiety with a smile, and put both hands in his pocket. He looked over at the book and flowers atop the headstone, and nodded, then said directly to Jacob, “By now you know the truth of what happened on the day we discovered the scrolls. By the time I realized what was happening it was too late for me to save Allen, and I’ve struggled with his death on my conscience ever since. However, I feel vindicated today, in that -- it was our duty to get the scrolls published for him, thank you for doing that for us, Jacob. I know your grandfather is very proud of you.”
Not knowing quiet what to do or say, Jacob just stood there perfectly still, nodding his head in reply. With a broad grin, the ghost of Dale Hines nodded back and turned to leave. Like the rippling effect of light being bent on a hot day, the figure evaporated and disappeared in plain sight, right in front of Jacob. It was then, for the first time in his several visits to the graveyard that Jacob even noticed the tarnished-brass head marker next to that of his grandfather’s stone. It read simply:
Allen Douglas Carter
March 1, 1902 - August 3, 1924
Artist, Explorer and dear friend
A few weeks later, Jacob decided that every year on the anniversary of Christopher’s death, they should make it a point to get together as a family. So it was, on February 4th of every year, they alternated between homes, in which to meet, and read aloud to one another their grandfather’s published work.
Seven months after, The Nephilim Age was released; Stewart and Casey became the parents of twins: a boy named, Christopher Jamison, and a girl, Miriam Savannah Townsend. Then, less than three months later, Jacob and Arlene celebrated the birth of their own first child, a son, named: Christopher Jereith Townsend.
The day after he turned six years old, Jereith woke his parents up with a nightmare about a red-haired woman -- drowning.
