Once upon a time, on a night very much like this, a group of travellers sat around a camp fire, and, as the embers burned low, and they began to grow sleepy, the talk turned to tales of the strange and supernatural.  Each settled back to listen to one old man’s story.  He stoked the dying fire and, as the glowing ashes flew into the night air, he began to speak –

‘Many years ago, a weary group of travellers and their guide sat around their camp fire on a dark and stormy night.    A night very much like tonight.  Since they were strangers in this land, they asked their guide to tell them a story.  The guide sat back and looked into their eager faces and sighed.  Leaning forward to stoke the fire, and, as the glowing ashes flew into the night air, the guide began to speak –

“There was, a long time ago, a great house on a hill.  Now, in that house lived a powerful Lord and his wife, known throughout the land as a cruel and evil man.  Every year he held a great banquet which all the Lords and Ladies would attend.  Many wondrous and marvellous dishes were served to the guests, each one piled high with slabs of meat and vegetables, covered with the most beautiful sauces and gravies, each course more sumptuous and more impressive than the last.  And when the guests had eaten their fill, the servants removed the still-laden plates and threw the remains to the dogs, for these were the Lord’s instructions, even though there were people starving in his lands.  And then the tables were removed and a music stand was erected, on which would play the musicians of the banquet.  The Lords and Ladies would dance through the night, until the sun came up and they all retired to bed, while the servants cleared away and prepared more food for they guests when they awoke.

Many people in the land complained that the Lord should give more food to them, but each year the banquets grew more and more lavish and extravagant, and the Lord’s dogs grew fat on the leavings.

Now, one year, a year where there was a terrible pestilence throughout the land, and many people died of illness and starvation, the Lord announced that the banquet would still go ahead and he demanded that his people pay more taxes in order that this be a truly memorable and lavish feast.  The people of his lands sunk ever lower in their despair until one old woman, who some called a witch, stood up to the Lord and cursed him and his guests for their wickedness.  He laughed at her and, while still laughing, set his great dogs upon her.  As she died, there was a strange smile around her lips and an eerie glow about her eyes and no one heard her final words.

On the night of the banquet there was a terrible storm, not unlike tonight, but the guests were warm and safe inside the Lord’s great castle house as they started dancing and to sing.  In the sky, great black clouds drew over the stars and the winds blew mightily, driving the rain hard against the windows of the dancing hall.  The fires inside the hall burned brightly and the guests, dressed in their finest clothing and powdered wigs, danced with each other while they laughed and drank.  

At midnight a heavy black cloud passed over the face of the moon, plunging the land into darkness and, at the same time, a great peal of thunder split the sky and a bright flash of lightning arced over the house.  

And, at the exact moment, all of the guests, and the Lord, and his wife, dropped dead, falling to the floor where they stood.

And as the large cloud, slowly rolled on, and the light of the moon fell once again on the house a strange and curious thing happened.

A ghostly image of each of the dead guests rose from their bodies and, from somewhere, a quiet and sad hornpipe began to play.  And the ghosts started to dance slowly to the music, still smiling and laughing as they danced.  And the ghost of the Lord and his wife were also dancing.  All of them dancing, dancing for ever more.  For ever more.”

The guide leaned forward again as he finished his story and looked at the faces of the travellers.  They were all listening to his story, gripped by the strange tale, and he continued speaking –

“It is said that they dance still and that poor, unwary folk have sometimes seen their ghastly dance of death.  But it is not said by the people who have seen it for themselves.  And why?  Because they are all dead.  For you see, if you are visited by the ghostly dancers on a dark and stormy night, on a night like tonight, it is said you will not live to see the sunrise.”

As the guide finished telling the tale, each of the travellers swore they could hear something.  And they all heard the same thing.  A slow, sad, lonely hornpipe playing in the distance.  And they all saw the same thing too.  For there, shining through the rain and the wind swept trees, was a strange, ghostly glow with many figures moving about – dancing, in fact.  Dancing through all eternity, doomed and trapped to forever appear to weary travellers and those unlucky enough to be caught in a storm.

And the travellers were never heard from or seen ever again.’

The old man, who had begun the story, leaned back and looked at the group sitting around the fire.  One of them asked him a question and he answered –

‘I know about the story, because I was there – I was the guide on that dark and stormy night.  I was there!  And, now, the Lord and his guests are coming to claim me.’

And it was as he spoke those words that a great peal of thunder crashed and the storm grew worse and, as they all ran to get under cover, they heard the dreaded ghostly music and they saw the figures dancing in the gloom.

On a night like tonight.