My Lady Jane

In the time of knights and chivalry

In the Castle of Grim Intent,

There lived the Baron de Romilly

That the King or the Devil had sent,

His knights were the scourge of the countryside

For they only dealt in pain,

Taxing the helpless peasantry

In the name of Lady Jane.

 

But Lady Jane was a prisoner

In a dungeon, deep and dark,

Gone were the days she’d ridden to hounds

In the castle’s spacious park,

The Baron had taken the castle,

On a dark and moonless night,

He held a warrant from England’s King

But that didn’t make it right.

 

He’d slain Milady’s pikemen,

Who had been the drawbridge guard,

Thrown their bodies into the moat

Left others, dead in the yard,

While Lady Jane on the battlements

Said, ‘What brings the Baron here?

Your evil knights are the country’s blight

So I would that you’d disappear!’

 

The Baron laughed in his ugly way

But his face was grim and sour,

He seized her, said he would make her pay

Then thrust her into the tower,

‘You’ll pay for this, I’m of noble blood,’

She had screamed, and cursed his name,

But he dragged her down to the dungeon,

And he tethered her there in chain.

 

His knights had raged through the countryside

Put yeomen and serfs in thrall,

They ran a sword through the village priest

And the Squire in the Manor Hall,

The countryside was awash with blood

As the Baron’s rule held sway,

While Lady Jane had muttered in pain

‘He will live to rue this day!’

 

She’d retained a wandering minstrel,

Who had played to pay her court,

And he was spared by the Baron’s men

For the music that they sought,

But one night after a revelry

When the knights lay drunk on the floor,

He slipped away down an old stairway

With the keys to the dungeon’s door.

 

He heard a weeping, as if in pain

And wandered along to check,

And found the prison of Lady Jane,

Released the chain from her neck,

They crept on out to the castle yard

And mounted two horses there,

Then galloped out through the drawbridge, leaving

The gaping guards to stare.

 

She roused the surrounding country,

‘You have everything now to gain,

Pick up your scythes, and your swords and knives

And we’ll show the Baron pain!’

They marched as a farmers army,

With bitterness at its core,

And slew the guards at the castle gate

And the knights that lay on the floor.

 

The Baron was dragged to the battlements

Where they’d fixed a sturdy rope.

He begged for Milady’s indulgence,

But she gave him little hope,

‘You’re going to meet your maker,

For you’ve played the Devil’s pawn,’

Then launched him into eternity

To the cries of the peasants scorn.

 

His corpse hung ‘til it rotted away

While Milady held a feast,

In thanks to the local peasantry

That he’d cared about the least,

While her minstrel wooed with a tuneful song

Though his eyes cried out in pain,

From the dreadful love that he’d held so long

For his mistress, Lady Jane.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Marie]

I know there was a Lady Jane, but I believe she was one of King Henry's unfortunate wives. She owed the minstrel a great deal, but I doubt she was ever able to repay him. The last lines are very sad.

Unthinkable as it is, I believe you made a mistake in the 4th line of stanza three.

[Valentine]

A very interesting write. It seemed based on fact but with your brilliant writing skills it could be mixed ideas from many years of your history reading. Just keep them coming. I enjoy each one. Kathie

[MomzillaNC]

This is probably the best tale yet! It reads like a short historical epic. Is this founded in fact?