Part 1:
“Now with dragon and princess and friendly rogue guard,
I stood thick in the midst of a thorny canard,
The king’s forces around us kept uneasy stance,
With sword and stiff axe, plus truncheon and lance.
If harm toward the princess was even perceived,
Of our heads without notice we’d soon be relieved,
As if I knew not of the trouble unbound,
The king felt a need to more richly expound.
‘I rule with a conscience, I rule with full reason,
But a king is no king if he curries such treason,
And treason is the least of the wounds we must cauter,
You involve mine own family – you involve mine dear daughter!
Have you gone mad? Has your soul fully rotted?
Destroying mine family, is that what you’ve plotted?
Shame on you knight,’ he scowled most profusely,
But his scowls and his tone did not rightly amuse me.
‘You suggest,’ I replied, ‘I affirm evil acts?
I’m nothing like you, even I have more tact,
The girl ran to us, perhaps fleeing your stewardship,
As if you smell rank, like a bovine manure slip.’
‘You dare,’ he did holler, his face fully furious,
‘Mock freely at me, as if you’re impervious?
Let me warn you, dear fool, I’m well-versed at hatred,
I’ve learned as if taught by a strict school matron.
You shall rue all these words that you now speak so firm,
I’ll grind you to dust, ’neath mine heelpiece you’ll squirm,
With hammer I’ll shatter your elbows and knees!
Put hive on your head till your ears throb with bees!’
I stood thick in the midst of a thorny canard,
The king’s forces around us kept uneasy stance,
With sword and stiff axe, plus truncheon and lance.
If harm toward the princess was even perceived,
Of our heads without notice we’d soon be relieved,
As if I knew not of the trouble unbound,
The king felt a need to more richly expound.
‘I rule with a conscience, I rule with full reason,
But a king is no king if he curries such treason,
And treason is the least of the wounds we must cauter,
You involve mine own family – you involve mine dear daughter!
Have you gone mad? Has your soul fully rotted?
Destroying mine family, is that what you’ve plotted?
Shame on you knight,’ he scowled most profusely,
But his scowls and his tone did not rightly amuse me.
‘You suggest,’ I replied, ‘I affirm evil acts?
I’m nothing like you, even I have more tact,
The girl ran to us, perhaps fleeing your stewardship,
As if you smell rank, like a bovine manure slip.’
‘You dare,’ he did holler, his face fully furious,
‘Mock freely at me, as if you’re impervious?
Let me warn you, dear fool, I’m well-versed at hatred,
I’ve learned as if taught by a strict school matron.
You shall rue all these words that you now speak so firm,
I’ll grind you to dust, ’neath mine heelpiece you’ll squirm,
With hammer I’ll shatter your elbows and knees!
Put hive on your head till your ears throb with bees!’
He went on quite gruff, with more slights hurled for me,
But I could die only once, so spare the hyperbole,
Instead I looked out at the Garden Botanical,
The flora within now seemed more understandable.
Ammerilyns and bromclaws and xanderleaf flowers,
Tulip pears sporting new buds by the hours,
Cattamens in rows, not yet to fruition,
Once blossomed, lace leaves would drape each edition.
Summer cacti, all bulbous, but pleasing no less,
With red and blue flowers abloom on their crest,
And tall ivy strands climbing high in loose vines,
Over seedlings in small pots becoming nut pines.
It occurred to me there, hectored by the king’s moanings,
Not once in life’s days had I found time to grow things.
Adventure and battle and endless resentment,
Never seeking a life of design or contentment.
These green things they thrived, much attuned to the sun,
And with harvest came joy, the season then done,
Yet mine soul stood restless, with each call to fate,
Thus a garden, perhaps, I should best cultivate.
But I could die only once, so spare the hyperbole,
Instead I looked out at the Garden Botanical,
The flora within now seemed more understandable.
Ammerilyns and bromclaws and xanderleaf flowers,
Tulip pears sporting new buds by the hours,
Cattamens in rows, not yet to fruition,
Once blossomed, lace leaves would drape each edition.
Summer cacti, all bulbous, but pleasing no less,
With red and blue flowers abloom on their crest,
And tall ivy strands climbing high in loose vines,
Over seedlings in small pots becoming nut pines.
It occurred to me there, hectored by the king’s moanings,
Not once in life’s days had I found time to grow things.
Adventure and battle and endless resentment,
Never seeking a life of design or contentment.
These green things they thrived, much attuned to the sun,
And with harvest came joy, the season then done,
Yet mine soul stood restless, with each call to fate,
Thus a garden, perhaps, I should best cultivate.
Maybe that’s what one thinks as he stands forth to die,
The paths he’s not chosen, his wonderings why,
No matter, I’d followed the course of mine choosing,
Even though it seemed likely to end now in losing.
At last the king’s diatribe finally did quit,
Though his eyes were still wild, as if having a fit,
The princess, seeing him wrapped in such bother,
Called, ‘Stop this, oh where is mine sweet gentle father?’
‘Where is he? He’s trying to offer protection,
To a wayward young girl run amok with affection,
Affection for dragons, and for scenes most ungainly,
Sarabella, I love you, but your stance here does pain me.
For I know what it means to lose an embrace,
And then yearn for the sight of that innocent face,
I’ll not have it again, till the end I shall swear it,’
And his eyes, turning moist, seemed to give his words merit.
She said, ‘Father, don't worry, I shan’t disappear,
I am not Gregor, is that what you fear?’
The king grimaced and winced, as if looking quite sick,
‘Your brother we do not discuss so in public!’
‘My brother by half,’ Sarabella did squeak,
‘Is still brother, of course, thus of him I may speak,
Lost and missing for years, I’ve not met him rightly,
Taken while young, by a wife to you flighty.’
The crowds they did gasp, the hush became palpable,
To speak of his son? And she who was culpable?
His first wife, Melanda, blamed fully for treason,
Her name hence not spoken in many a season.
The paths he’s not chosen, his wonderings why,
No matter, I’d followed the course of mine choosing,
Even though it seemed likely to end now in losing.
At last the king’s diatribe finally did quit,
Though his eyes were still wild, as if having a fit,
The princess, seeing him wrapped in such bother,
Called, ‘Stop this, oh where is mine sweet gentle father?’
‘Where is he? He’s trying to offer protection,
To a wayward young girl run amok with affection,
Affection for dragons, and for scenes most ungainly,
Sarabella, I love you, but your stance here does pain me.
For I know what it means to lose an embrace,
And then yearn for the sight of that innocent face,
I’ll not have it again, till the end I shall swear it,’
And his eyes, turning moist, seemed to give his words merit.
She said, ‘Father, don't worry, I shan’t disappear,
I am not Gregor, is that what you fear?’
The king grimaced and winced, as if looking quite sick,
‘Your brother we do not discuss so in public!’
‘My brother by half,’ Sarabella did squeak,
‘Is still brother, of course, thus of him I may speak,
Lost and missing for years, I’ve not met him rightly,
Taken while young, by a wife to you flighty.’
The crowds they did gasp, the hush became palpable,
To speak of his son? And she who was culpable?
His first wife, Melanda, blamed fully for treason,
Her name hence not spoken in many a season.
Rodrick sighed fully, then forced up a grin,
Though a good while longer till he spoke once again,
‘Oh daughter, my sweet, the truths you don’t know,
But you’re a smart lass, so these facts I'll disclose.
I've a network of couriers, agents and spies,
And they’ve located dear Gregor, in a hamlet called Vyze,
It is far to the east, in a port by the sea,
Remote and detached, yet now known to me.
My first wife, I curse her, a lying false harpy,
She should suffer bad fate, or be shackled most darkly,
But I shall do naught, it would not be becoming,
Harming her helps not achieve his homecoming.’
‘Gregor’s been found? Our hearts are a-light,
But why hesitate, why wait to unite?
Summon him here, end the sad separation,
And a party we’ll have, begin glad preparation!’
Yet Sarabella’s demeanor was not so contagious,
The king seemed unmoved, his joy not outrageous,
‘Complex is our standing, and before we proceed,
Elements of strategy I feel we do need.
For he’s surely heard lies, and delusions most ghastly,
His heart likely loaded with poison aimed at me,
To stomp this deceit, I’ll need something quite prized,
An item unique he must see with his eyes.’
‘It’s an egg,’ I did say, catching on to the pattern,
‘An egg is your item – you’re mad as a hatter!'
His rank plan unearthed, my hope became daunted,
I saw slim chance for peace with a soul this much haunted.
Though a good while longer till he spoke once again,
‘Oh daughter, my sweet, the truths you don’t know,
But you’re a smart lass, so these facts I'll disclose.
I've a network of couriers, agents and spies,
And they’ve located dear Gregor, in a hamlet called Vyze,
It is far to the east, in a port by the sea,
Remote and detached, yet now known to me.
My first wife, I curse her, a lying false harpy,
She should suffer bad fate, or be shackled most darkly,
But I shall do naught, it would not be becoming,
Harming her helps not achieve his homecoming.’
‘Gregor’s been found? Our hearts are a-light,
But why hesitate, why wait to unite?
Summon him here, end the sad separation,
And a party we’ll have, begin glad preparation!’
Yet Sarabella’s demeanor was not so contagious,
The king seemed unmoved, his joy not outrageous,
‘Complex is our standing, and before we proceed,
Elements of strategy I feel we do need.
For he’s surely heard lies, and delusions most ghastly,
His heart likely loaded with poison aimed at me,
To stomp this deceit, I’ll need something quite prized,
An item unique he must see with his eyes.’
‘It’s an egg,’ I did say, catching on to the pattern,
‘An egg is your item – you’re mad as a hatter!'
His rank plan unearthed, my hope became daunted,
I saw slim chance for peace with a soul this much haunted.