Our story begins with a fearsome battle between the medieval abbot-exorcist, St Dunstan and the Demon Great Marquis, Forneus.

St. Dunstan’s old age didn’t leave him as strong as when he was still a young cleric, but by Christ’s name was he a crafty old man. A goldsmith by profession, he was working on a church bell when the dapper demon, Forneus, came up in a flash of smoke and greeted the old priest, who was still in his mass robe.

“Pardon my intrusion, but it pains me not to greet such holiness…” Forneus said as he laid down his top hat and bowed down behind the monk.

“And it pains me to be in the same room as your sulfuric stench!” St. Dunstan quipped as he continued on with his work.

“Temper, temper…” Forneus said as he waved his crooked finger. “You know very well who I am!” he threatened.

“Temper, temper indeed…” St. Dunstan said as he lunged towards the demon and pinned his nose with his red, hot tongs. He held on, in an attempt to rip off the demon’s shnoz. To no avail, he locked the tongs together and let go.

“I say!” Forneus seethed in a nasally accent. “Get these off me!” he demanded as he sat down on the floor, wailing.

“Most certainly, that is…” St. Dunstan said as if trying to make a deal. “If you show me the extent of your power…” he said.

The demon looked at him and chuckle. He got off and wiped the soot off his two coats as he shuffled towards him in a confident manner.

“I can show you…” he said as his fangs grew wider. “True power…” he growled as he motions his hands around the old man, ready to devour him.

In response, Dunstan unsheathed a dagger disguised as a crucifix from under his long sleeve. Upon seeing this, Forneus backed off and chuckled once again, believing he has the upper ground thus feeding his confidence even more.

“What’s your request old man?” he questioned. “Money, a bigger monastery, political power…” Forneus offered.

“None of that temptation…” Dunstan said with a straight face. He went around and got a black leather knapsack from under his bed. He made sure to cover the handle with his hand.

“Here’s your challenge, fiend…” Dunstan said as he opens the knapsack. “Climb into this knapsack here and I shall remove those tongs.” He said.

“Remove these tongs first…” he suggested.

“And how do you assure me that upon removal you do not evade our deal?” Dunstan reasoned as he raised his whitened eyebrow in suspicion.

“Deal? No deal has been struck yet! You know the currency that gets us demons to barter…” Forneus said, hinting that Dunstan barters his own soul.

Upon seeing through his intention of dishonesty, Dunstan was outraged. He let it not seep out of him, for the demon might capitalize on his rage. Rather, he breathes calmly and plans his next act. He re-sheaths his dagger and purses his lips as he goes toe to toe with a powerful demon

The tongs were still firmly attached to the demon’s nose, so in a quick motion, he grabs hold of the tongs. With the demon flailing and cursing, Dunstan forces him into the knapsack. He even goes as far as forcing him in with his foot and pulling the bag over his head until he metamorphosed into a black sludge that finally crawled into the bag like a sickly dog retreating to its alley.

“That will be enough of that!’ he exclaims as he seals the knapsack shut and reveals the metal rosary tied to the handle.

“You cheat!’ Forneus cursed from within. “I shall kill you!” he threatened. “I shall kill you!”

“Hrmph!” Dunstan shrugged. “Boasts of controlling legions of demons… but barks like a chained dog when his only shackles are a bunch of string-bound beads…how pathetic!” Dunstan quipped as he went back to his bell.