A long shadow
Men of the world doth promises make
And many a man of oaths have spake
Yet promise and oath be heavy weights
And sure as the dawn these things do break
This be a tale of promise to one
One man to other, father to son
Of words unsaid and of deeds undone
A grain of truth, a mere speck, a crumb
Narrator Behold the fair city of Arrowshorn, prized Gem in the crown of Galad, a kingdom like no other. Only fitting then, that the king himself resides there, seated in his throne in the seat of the world. Once he was a wise and just ruler, but as a rule power corrupts. His seat holds too much comfort and turns him complacent. Neglectful of his people, he concerns himself only with idleness and luxury.
King More wine and wenches. More beef and bacon. Only the best for a man in my station
Narrator Thus it falls upon those below him to make sure he stays atop. Dutiful son Elmin shoulders the burden. A subtle Atlas he is, carrying all worldly concerns with him always.
Scene shifts to Elmin in his study, hard at work
Elmin Grain imports from the east are drying up. Look west for new crops. Taxes in the slums are too high, while the temple district distracts the coffers with pretty words. What need have men of the cloth for exotic silks?
Narrator Day and night the son toils. His young pretty bride, recently wed, still awaits christening of marriage bed. Yet a secret Elmin does hide
Elmin Of fair maidens touch, I can abide. I seek not the company of boys, though that’s what some say. Yet neither flesh doth give me a rise. As fertile as dust I am. No fruit shall flow from these loins, no seed can be sown. Childless forever I’ll remain, though I must hide it, to hide my shame.
King bursts through, with favoured wench Mary
King What ho, my son! Still with your head buried in books, while your wife waits for it to be buried in her bosom. Folly I cry! Folly!
Elmin Father please, I have work to do.
King You speak true. A young maid to be laid and a grandchild made. That is the work that must be done. And thirsty work it is
The king drinks deep from his flagon and fondles Mary, who giggles
Elmin But the people must come first. For seven generations the proud family of Phearson have looked over the kingdom of Galad, protecting its citizens from all that besiege.
King Indeed, Indeed. And very soon you will be king. A better ruler than I, methinks. Yet the people are content with this old fool now, for they know that you will take my place. The eighth Phearson to wear the crown and sit within the Pillar of Tears. Yet the people must know that a ninth King will follow. If the line is broken then all illusion of stability is gone, for nought keeps us kings but mere tradition. So I implore you; sheave your sword in her scabbard. Be it long or short, broad or narrow. I once knew saw a man curved like a rapier.
Elmin There are better ways to measure the worth of a man than with a ruler. But what became of this rapier you describe?
King Hung for rape.
Elmin No doubt he was pressured by his father to produce a son
King And yet without a son you shall never rule. Do not think yourself smarter than I, child of paper and ink. It is with flesh and blood that we are made. We are borne into the world covered in the stuff. And with our flesh meeting a maids do we make more flesh. Know this; I have signed a degree declaring you illegitimate for the throne should wifey fail to grow into a more fitting form.
Elmin And what of stability? Of the great and noble family tree?
King I have branches of bastards to replace you. You are just one stalk from my crop. True you are smarter than most, but what use a plant that does not bloom. And what of your bride? I see in her eye a desire of the carnal. If you will not lie with her, then perhaps I might.
Elmin Father! Enough of this talk. I am a Phearson, of hardy stock. I shall take my bride soon.
King When?!
Elmin At hunters moon, so shall my arrow prick her.
King Excellent. Come Mary, to my chambers we go. An argument is good for the blood and makes it flow
King exits
Narrator And though the king now be full of glee, all Elmin knows is sorrow. For Hunters moon is all too soon, two weeks off the morrow
Elmin A plan I need. No feckless fool can rule. Twould be bad for all. I love my wife, and she loves me…perhaps. Would she take another for a night? Lie with him then lie that it was I that make her with child? Nay, if only so she might avoid scandal. Bah! To the city I flee, in search of some inspiration.
Men of the world doth promises make
And many a man of oaths have spake
Yet promise and oath be heavy weights
And sure as the dawn these things do break
This be a tale of promise to one
One man to other, father to son
Of words unsaid and of deeds undone
A grain of truth, a mere speck, a crumb
Narrator Behold the fair city of Arrowshorn, prized Gem in the crown of Galad, a kingdom like no other. Only fitting then, that the king himself resides there, seated in his throne in the seat of the world. Once he was a wise and just ruler, but as a rule power corrupts. His seat holds too much comfort and turns him complacent. Neglectful of his people, he concerns himself only with idleness and luxury.
King More wine and wenches. More beef and bacon. Only the best for a man in my station
Narrator Thus it falls upon those below him to make sure he stays atop. Dutiful son Elmin shoulders the burden. A subtle Atlas he is, carrying all worldly concerns with him always.
Scene shifts to Elmin in his study, hard at work
Elmin Grain imports from the east are drying up. Look west for new crops. Taxes in the slums are too high, while the temple district distracts the coffers with pretty words. What need have men of the cloth for exotic silks?
Narrator Day and night the son toils. His young pretty bride, recently wed, still awaits christening of marriage bed. Yet a secret Elmin does hide
Elmin Of fair maidens touch, I can abide. I seek not the company of boys, though that’s what some say. Yet neither flesh doth give me a rise. As fertile as dust I am. No fruit shall flow from these loins, no seed can be sown. Childless forever I’ll remain, though I must hide it, to hide my shame.
King bursts through, with favoured wench Mary
King What ho, my son! Still with your head buried in books, while your wife waits for it to be buried in her bosom. Folly I cry! Folly!
Elmin Father please, I have work to do.
King You speak true. A young maid to be laid and a grandchild made. That is the work that must be done. And thirsty work it is
The king drinks deep from his flagon and fondles Mary, who giggles
Elmin But the people must come first. For seven generations the proud family of Phearson have looked over the kingdom of Galad, protecting its citizens from all that besiege.
King Indeed, Indeed. And very soon you will be king. A better ruler than I, methinks. Yet the people are content with this old fool now, for they know that you will take my place. The eighth Phearson to wear the crown and sit within the Pillar of Tears. Yet the people must know that a ninth King will follow. If the line is broken then all illusion of stability is gone, for nought keeps us kings but mere tradition. So I implore you; sheave your sword in her scabbard. Be it long or short, broad or narrow. I once knew saw a man curved like a rapier.
Elmin There are better ways to measure the worth of a man than with a ruler. But what became of this rapier you describe?
King Hung for rape.
Elmin No doubt he was pressured by his father to produce a son
King And yet without a son you shall never rule. Do not think yourself smarter than I, child of paper and ink. It is with flesh and blood that we are made. We are borne into the world covered in the stuff. And with our flesh meeting a maids do we make more flesh. Know this; I have signed a degree declaring you illegitimate for the throne should wifey fail to grow into a more fitting form.
Elmin And what of stability? Of the great and noble family tree?
King I have branches of bastards to replace you. You are just one stalk from my crop. True you are smarter than most, but what use a plant that does not bloom. And what of your bride? I see in her eye a desire of the carnal. If you will not lie with her, then perhaps I might.
Elmin Father! Enough of this talk. I am a Phearson, of hardy stock. I shall take my bride soon.
King When?!
Elmin At hunters moon, so shall my arrow prick her.
King Excellent. Come Mary, to my chambers we go. An argument is good for the blood and makes it flow
King exits
Narrator And though the king now be full of glee, all Elmin knows is sorrow. For Hunters moon is all too soon, two weeks off the morrow
Elmin A plan I need. No feckless fool can rule. Twould be bad for all. I love my wife, and she loves me…perhaps. Would she take another for a night? Lie with him then lie that it was I that make her with child? Nay, if only so she might avoid scandal. Bah! To the city I flee, in search of some inspiration.
3 comments:
An exemplary work. Bit out of the blue but exemplary nonetheless.
It's rather excellent *as you already know*
This is pretty good. Poor Elmin.
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