The Red Knight

Go for a ride with The Red Knight, if you dare. 1600 lines, and not for children.

Part I

At Carleon, some ancient King

Once vowed a tourney, dawn to dusk

And drew three hundred noble knights

From either side the river Usk.

Three hundred noble knights, and they

With each his company did ride,

A thousand laughing damosels

To preen and ween them in their pride.   

    

And wooing lovers sought the stage

With noble Earls and jewelled Kings

To see such sport at Carleon

While May burst rosebuds, in the wings.

Then was it like dead Arthur’s court

Before Sir Mordred’s treason fell,

When Launcelot du Lake despaired

At Guinevere’s sad burial.

Before the Lady of the Lake

Caught fast the Caliburn, and shook

It times by three at Bedivere

Or they poor mortal Arthur took.

But this was long before, and now

These knights would worship to their name,

Would laugh and sport in goodly cheer

Before dark shadows spoiled their game.

Each shattered lance at every side

And many a shield would ring to steel,

Many a helm would dint and burst

To leave the hapless knight to reel.

Until, when revelry had caught

Each valiant heart within its spell

A figure rode toward the joust

From old St. Crispin’s wishing-well.

A mighty knight, full armed and gore

For on his lance there glistered blood

That hushed each maiden as she saw

While shadows deepened at the wood.

This knight was grim, and clad in red

From shield and gauntlet, through to helm

His horse wept blood at every pore

Like none had seen, or thought to tell.

And red his sword, and red his eye

Seen dimly ‘twixt the grille, its slit

And red the harness that did lie 

As if he’d bled on all of it.

And red, blood red, the paytrels ran

And red the hooves that tore the turf,

And red the spurs, the girth, the bit

And every garment he was girt.

A murmur took this merry throng

That death had ridden to their midst,

Yet who would joust with death too long

Before red death would what he wished?

And who would speak were stricken dumb

In horror at this dreadful scene,

The stranger turned full helm to them

As damosels did swoon and scream.

‘Is this some jest,’ at last cried out

King Palomir, who found his tongue:

‘What would you with us, knight,’ he quoth,

‘What dread has bled you so undone?’

‘What evil rune has turned you thus,

A thing of dread to godly men,

Are you some spectre, misbegot

By demons who did conjure them?’

The knight of blood did clash his shield

And then did speak to prove his will,

His voice was as the rasp of blood

That bubbled redly at the grille.

‘My lords, I seek ten knights to joust

If there be them that bruise them would,

Or is your courage all display

That fears to joust this knight of blood.’

 

‘Is there a knight or ten among

So many who would do or dare,

Or are three hundred hearts so faint

That I must search me elsomwhere?’

King Palomir sank back at this

And long surveyed his gallantry

When shame at tardiness took heart

To call them, which would counted be.

Sir Evelake, the first to call

Most worshipful of any knight,

The same that tooken Morden Hall

And fifty men, one ‘chanted night.

The same that sought the holy cloth

That wrapp’d sweet Jesu’s body round

And then was found in some strange light

Bereft of reason, on the ground.

And who was healed of this malaise

By some young passing maiden’s spell

Who nursed him back to light and life

To turn again, his tale to tell.

And then Sir Borolak sang out

The message of his dread intent:

‘I will unseat this bloodied knight

And see him more than penitent.’

And to this end he swore him well

For none had ever seen him fall

In any joust among the blood

That any knight could e’er recall.

And was he not, this Borolak

The slayer of the Griffin beast

That all Carlisle had fled, when once

On human flesh it thought to feast?

And had he not despised the spell

Of distant Castle Perilous,

And freed milady Isobel

To burn the lord de Malorus?

A third then called to heed the knight

And at the name, each lady sighed,

Sir Galbriance, that noble lord

Could take his choose of any bride.

This Galbriance was whispered well

For gallantry to any dame

And many a damosel had burned

In fever at his whispered name.

And was he not of Tristram’s blood

And steeped within his history,

That loved Isolde whene’er she would

And knew her every mystery?

For this Sir Galbriance was loved

And for each deed of arms he knew,

For he had fought for many a maid

That to his arms for love had flew.

A fourth, Sir Orgulous then spake

To add voice to the discontent:

‘This stranger’s blood shall fall anew

When I fordo his argument.’ 

‘For soon shall I beskift his head

And stint those arms that wield the blade,

‘I’ll hew him ‘til each piece lies dead,

‘Or he will further fright a maid.”

And well he spoke, this Orgulous

Whose visage was well-feared by all,

Who slew the boar Gargantuous

That tore his face ‘or it would fall.

That tore and maimed his face so well

That he would hide from every sight

And wear the helm from that to this

That none might see, and take afright.

That none might see, though each heard tell

Was noseless, and a running wound,

For one poor maid once came on him

Unhelmed, and there for fright had swooned.

And so Sir Orgulous had sworn

That never would his face be seen,

The helm remained firm fixed while he

Sought beasts, and coward knights, unclean.

Then in his shame a rage had burned

That slew each monster fearfully,

While he was cheered, and wished most well

By whomsoever freed would be.

But I digress, for now the fifth

Had spoke his will to overcome,

Sir Primedan de Vale would be

No slight discharge for any man.

For had he not been lost ‘or this

In Forest Gruel, by Hideous,

And made to joust the ten legg’d beast

That breathed its fire insidious?

And had he not cut short the reign

Of Castle Cruel, in Cardigan,

Then hewed the two heads of the knight

‘Or first light of the morning come?

Sir Primedan de Vale was known

Across the land for slaying three,

The brother beasts of sin that drank

The blood of every lechery.

The beasts that every maidenhead

Did breach, of every passing maid

To shame their blighted mother’s blood

Who once had with a brother laid.

Now sixth of all the names were called

And this, Sir Constant, of Despair

Who once had loved his heart’s delight

Within his castle, Joyous Care.

But rode one day a miscreant

Who would this lady steal away,

And sought the aid of grammarye

That he might will her love to stray.

For he did set a potion made

Of hemlock, and some other herb

To conjure her a living death

That she might then be dis-interred.

And on the day, milady paled

And sank so fast, ‘twas hideous

While death appeared in what she drank,

Sir Constant’s cries were piteous.

But so convinced were they that she

Lay dead, that nothing would prevail,

They laid her in a vault without

This Joyous Care, and made them wail.

And while they thus did make a wail

The miscreant did breach the vault

To steal the lady clean away

That none might ever find him fault. 

And when the maiden found herself

To wake beside this miscreant,

She vowed her shame would not prevail

Though she was lost of innocence.

So took she then a narrow blade

To open every pore that bled,

In vain the miscreant did plead,

The lady soon lay pale and dead.

But when this thing was heard about

Sir Constant slew this patient thief,

Did hang him from the castle gate

And then withdrew him, with his grief.

And nevermore was loud delight

To issue from the Joyous Care,

Sir Constant walked abroad at night

And called his castle now - ‘Despair’.

And thus: ‘Sir Constant, of Despair’

The village folk would call him then,

And he would roam the woods at night

To challenge aught of mortal men.

For seven years his grief did bind

Him constant to his lady fair,

And he became more feared of men

When moon and mist rode in the air.

But to the seventh of the ten

We pass, for now the shadow’s height

Is chill, and every lord would seem

To shiver at this bloodied knight.

For still he sits and glisters blood

And sooth, it issues from his gules

To drip and drizzle where is stood

The demon horse the Red Knight rules.

But seventh is Sir Mar Dubay

A knight from some far foreign part,

That long has left his king, to stray

Where deeds and daring take his heart.

Where nothing of his life is known

From far beyond the distant shore,

Though won he worship with Welsh knights

When he did sport them, once before.

But only this, that he was said

To be in search for one he knew

Who once had saved for him his head

When dared he more than might would do.

And so the eighth, brave Sir Patrelle

Though not so young as once he might

Still scorned to flee from any fray

But matched his arms with any knight.

For this, the same Patrelle had fought

In all the wars that swept the land

Once Arthur’s knights did fade and fail

When death took all that noble band.

When villainy and lust prevailed

And not a maid was safe at bed,

His youth was spent enforcing law

When hewed he many a roguish head.

And to the ninth, Sir Tirralane

Whose gorge was made to rise at this:

‘I will unseat this bloodied shame,’

He swore, and would have done, iwis.

For he had seen a sight before

When pestilence had ravaged wide,

His own sweet mother bled like this

For seven days before she died.

And both his brothers stricken were

That bled from every weeping pore,

And then his father fled, to spare

His youngest son the bloodied sore. 

 

And so his all was lost when he

Could bare remember what they were

But now the blood of sorcery

Recalled the pain that left him there.

And now the tenth sang out his name

To claim his place against the foe,

For would bold Sir Perimavance

Seek leave to lay the stranger low.

For oft anon had he been told

By gypsies, wandered on the fen

That by the knight that scarlet bled

Would he be led to some foul den

Wherein great marvels would he see

That might not ‘or be seen to hap

And learn him of the ways of men -

Perimavance then girt his lap.

And each did mount a sturdy steed

And lance him for the deadly fray:

‘No quarter give, nor ask of me

For death is but an hour away.’

‘Prepare to die, you noble knights,’

The stranger rasped, vermillion,

Then turned his demon horse to ride

Beside the grand pavilion.

A moment did they hesitate:

‘Does he defy us all, or one?’

Sir Evelake spoke haut in pride:

‘It is not worshipful that ten

Should hew a single mounted knight,

For that we would be recreant;

If we must die, then each must ride

Alone against his countenance.’

Sir Evelake then tightened girth

And wheeled his horse, to their dismay,

The knight of blood then couched his lance

And both, they thundered to the fray.

They each did lance them at the shield

And Evelake’s did shatter then,

The Red Knight split both shield and mail

To wound full sore this knight of ten;

This first of ten that lay ableed

And stood him not upon the day,

The stranger gave no further glance

But wheel’d his horse, and turned away.

‘By Jesu's name,’ swore Borolak

Who burned to see Sir Evelake,

‘I’ll kill this fiend before such death

Shall wheel me mournful to the wake.’

So dressed him to the thunder charge

And brought his lance in, under low

But at the touch it splintered once

And Borolak hit hard below.

But yet he gained his feet, and drew

His burnished sword, that he might hack

The knight of blood from out his seat,

But sorcery then drove him back.

For then the stranger drew his blade

And slashed him at the other’s helm;

The helm did split, and was dismayed

With Borolak soon over-whelm’d.

Then followed Galbriance, without

A word to cheer him on his way,

But he was served as Borolak

And lost his head upon that day.

For once he tumbled at the tilt

He scrambled late to draw his edge,

And one sweep of the burnished sword

Did part his neck beyond the hedge. 

And as his head in helm did roll

Each maiden loosed a piteous cry,

The king had turned a waxen grey

As tears flew freely at his eye.

‘The flower of my poor, gallant knights

Will soon be lost beyond this day,

No mortal man may stand such fight,’

Cried Palomir, in his dismay.

‘No mortal man is this that slays

Our noble blood with such despite,

The Royal line is laid to waste...’

But Orgulous was set to fight.

No fear could chill Sir Orgulous

For he was like the mighty boar

That he had slain, Gargantuous,

And that he’d not been frighted for.

So to the tilt he drove in rage

And hurt the bloodied knight full well,

He drove his lance in at the cage

And splinters filled the stranger’s helm.

And now the stranger roared with pain

And bellowed that he could not see

But though he tore at strap and helm,

From helm his head would not be free.

Enraged, he struck him blindly out

His sword he hewed at empty air

While Orgulous crouched low, and leapt

To strike the stranger, would he where.

But though the sword of Orgulous

Sliced through the corselet of mail,

He watched the blade, incredulous

As out he drew it; cleft and hale

And drew once more the blade from him

Who redly sat to slice the air,

Not one blood drop had marked the blade

Though blood flowed almost everywhere.

Again, anon, he sliced this knight

And plunged the blade fair to the hilt,

But not a stain would mark the sword

And light flashed from the silver gilt.

‘Is there no substance to this fiend?’

Sir Orgulous cried out, anon,

And gave his place away to him

That wondered where each strike was from.

And so he slashed the burnished sword

Hard down upon the other’s helm

To cleave the knight from skull to teeth;

Thus Orgulous was overcome.

‘Enough, enough,’ then cried the king:

‘I will no more that thee would slay,’

But Primedan de Vale had leapt

To steer his charger to the fray.

And as the Red Knight wheel’d about

Not knowing where the danger come,

Sir Primedan caught with his lance

The fiend that naught would see undone.

The lance but shattered at his breast

And slivers filled the clashing air,

And one did pierce the good knight’s chest

That he might never breathe no more.

For as the blood gushed from his side

An awful moan was made without

As Primedan de Vale fell short

His spur caught fast, and dragged about.

And dragged his cor’se abroad, to speed

Along the grey pavilion,

As still the stranger pranced about

And rasped his pure vermillion. 

‘Faint hearts,’ he bubbled at the grille,

‘Where lie the craven other five,

Ten knights were promised at the joust

Now five are dead, and five alive.’

‘If one is worthy not of me

Send two, and I will them despatch,

I wish to fight, not toy with fools;

Send two to make a fairer match.’

At this, Sir Constant, and Dubay

Spurred hard and lanced him either side,

But then the lance had not been made

To halt the Red Knight in his ride.

For both did shatter, as before

And to their swords each knight did cling

To hack and hew from side to side

What thought them hacked not anything.

For though the blood was round about

Each sword remained as it was clean,

And not a stroke could taunt this knight

Though bared him to the bone, I ween

Dubay would hack, and Constant delve

To find some weakness that he might,

But only Orgulous had found

The only lack was in his sight.

And as they hewed and hacked at him

The knight gave out a mighty roar:

‘The midges nip when comes the night,

But once a slap - the midge no more.’

He bellowed, then raised high his sword

To buffet Constant at the helm,

‘Til blood gushed at his nose and mouth

Though still he’d not be overwhelm'd.

While Mar Dubay thrust at his side

And ran the Red Knight through and through

When down the sword came from on high

And cleft his shoulder blades in two.

And so he fell, the noble knight

While Constant hacked, his ears a-ring

'Til he was cleft across the throat

When blood gushed over everything.

So on the field of gore they lay

While only three were left to chance,

The brave Patrelle, Sir Tirralane

And finally, Perimavance.

‘What would we do, we three,’ they cried

To each the other, in advance:

‘I’ll take the left,’ cried Sir Patrelle

‘And I the right, Perimavance,’

Qoth Tirralane, who checked his steed

To wait the other’s quick reply,

Perimavance thought of him quick:

‘You bide, and I will take the eye.’

‘The eye that burns as red as sin

Behind the visor and the grille,

Sir Orgulous did blind him once,

Well I shall blind him with this steel.’

‘Nis not no other weakness he

That I have seen, so let begin,

Patrelle assault him on the left

While Tirralane the right must win;

And I will take him at the face,’

Then so determined, made their way,

Each galloped hard, and lanced to kill

The spectre death that barred the way.

First lance to shatter was Patrelle

Then Tirralane's did break in two

While from behind, Perimavance

Did miss the visor, to his rue 

And saw his lance dashed to the earth

Before each drew his blade of steel,

The Red Knight roared his battle roar

And clashed each knight 'til they did reel.

Did reel and slash and drive at him

But he no hurt could feel him sore,

Sir Tirralane caught at the helm

A mighty buffet, fought no more.

Then brave Patrelle drove at him hard

With blow on blow to hold him still

All while Perimavance did seek

Some way to pierce that evil grille.

Long time did either hack and hew

And brave Patrelle was hurt full sore:

‘Strike now, Perimavance, God sue

I fear I may not hold him more.’

Then as Patrelle did falter once

The knight of blood did swing on high

And down the blade came on the helm

To see Patrelle gush blood, and die.

But as he fell, this noble knight

And as the fiend recover would

From such a blow as he had swung

Perimavance did catch his eye;

Did catch his eye and thrust the blade

Full tilt and through the visor grille,

The point did pierce the stranger's eye

And at his brain did ravel still.

But with one last, despairing swing

The stranger caught Perimavance

And sliced in to the heart of him

That he would never more to chance.

The ten lay dead, and now the knight

Of blood did drop his dreadful sword,

The blade still at his visor grille

And as he reeled, he spake this word:

‘Maradelaine!’ The single word

That echoed to oblivion,

And as he uttered, thus he died

And fell by the pavilion.

And as he fell, all hushed were they

With even nature still’d at this,

'Til storm-clouds filled the open sky

And sudden winds did howl, iwis.

For in a moment, dark the sky

And strong the storm that leashed on them,

The lightning flashed at every eye

And thunder frit the least of them.

While hither-thither ran each maid

A-scream to seek oblivion

While rain did fall and winds did rage

To tear at the pavilion.

And objects flew from here to there

That none might seek to stand in it,

The horses fled, and others bled

And prayed to put an end to it.

‘Til like a mighty swirl, the wind

Turned men and maids about one heap

And swirled about the gallant band

While rain bedrenched, and dark did keep.

Until above the howl was heard

That single word: ‘Maradelaine,’

When all was still’d, and through the chill

The sun came out to shine again.

Then as they picked them to their feet

To look about them, every one

They stood amazed to see the change

The storm had wrought, and brought undone. 

For there stood Sir Perimavance

As hale as ever had he stood,

And there Sir Orgulous was found

With not a wound to draw his blood.

And there Patrelle, and there Dubay

And there Sir Primedan de Vale,

Each stood adaze and felt his way

As dreamers in some faerie tale.

And maidens cried and laughed aloud

For joy to see Sir Galbriance,

No worse for having lost his head

Nor even deep in penitence.

And so they marvelled, all the throng

To see no harm had come of it,

Until they looked about, and long

To seek the bloodied cause of it.

Then where the long pavilion

Had stood before the storm dismayed

They saw the gentlest of knights

In gleaming armour, there was laid.

And as he stirred they gathered them

About, and thought to minister,

But saw the shield that he displayed;

A wyvern, quartered, sinister.

But nor no blood was found on him

Or on his horse that patient stood,

He fast awoke, forsook his helm

And gazed back at the darkened wood.

‘What means this, knight, what painful tale

Have you to tell this company,

Can you be he that taught despair

To we, with bloodied sorcery?’

‘Are you he of the bloodied shield,

The Red Knight that did challenge us;

Did you bring every knight to yield

And come to over-master us?’

At this he turned a questing eye

On Palomir, who questioned him,

And all could see, the eye was white

No sight could he have had of him.

The other, normal in its hue

Could see as well as any man,

But when remarked, the question drew

An answer from Sir Primedan.

‘I also have one eye to see

And one as blind as any bat!’

The crowd turned then, and looked his way

To let the truth be wondered at.

For every knight among the ten

That fought and fell along that day

Had one blind eye to ponder on

And one as well as well it may.

‘Methinks we'll hear the stranger’s tale

But later now, for comes the dusk,

Let all who will ride on our way

To Castle Radd, by river Usk.

So at this word, the sober throng

Took mount, and some did wend away,

And some did follow Palomir,

And some did ride, and some did stay.

King Palomir and company

Did ride to Radd by river Usk,

And 'twas a sober throng to see

That wend its way through field at dusk.

'Til finally, at Castle Radd

They rode the drawbridge from the night

While pages saw the tapers lit

And patient sat was every knight. 

 

  

 Part II

     

‘If you would hear my story, we

Must spend each knight a pretty hour,

For long the tale that cleaves to me

And dark the way, and tall the tower.

And deep the sorcery entwined

To bind me in its awful spell,

And long the shame that I must speak

To free from me the blood of hell.

A knight, I, from a noble line

Of Cornish Kings, Sir Dennister,

Though fate inspired these arms of mine,

A wyvern, quartered, sinister.

‘And sinister was how my life

Began, in some conspiracy,

My dame begat me while her man

Was off with deeds of chivalry.’

And all her maids conspired with her

To hide the deed that did her shame

That I was not brought forth before

The time that I might bear his name.

But this was hid, and thus I grew

Unmindful of my rightful sire,

I knew him as some distant lord,

Each lip was sealed, on pain of fire.

Each lip was sealed, and thus I grew

'Til time that I a knight was made,

Of all this history I knew

No thing, nor nothing of a maid.

But pure in innocence I lay

Each eve, believing life to be

Some joy that waited, day on day

For each, in new discovery.

And all and every trouble fled

From that young knight, Sir Dennister,

Though I would lie awake, in sight

Of wyvern, quartered, sinister.

But as I roamed the country fair

I found the castle of my lord,

I saw his blacken’d battle-tower

And touched the handle of my sword.

For burnished at the handle’s edge

The very scene I sought to seek

Was wrought in art, the lip, the ledge,

The blacken’d tower of Castle Bleak.

But nothing stirred as I beheld

The tower that I had sought afar,

And not a sound then could I speak

Within its shadow’s evil star.

Full often would I ride to seek

The meaning of that battle-tower

To draw the sword, inspect the hilt

And wonder at it, from afar.

The sword had been my mother’s gift

The day that I a knight was made;

She wept a tear, she bit the lip

And then the sword upon me laid

With just a whisper that I caught

As if she thought herself aloud:

‘Beware the blacken’d battle-tower

And she who spins the crimson shroud.’ 

  

And this was all, she never spoke

Again on this, but shortly died

And I was left the burnished hilt

To ponder at the countryside.

Within the Castle Bleak did stay

The Lord Provane, and in his house

The legend of his lady lay

That dame of old, the one Morgause.

The same Morgause that once did spill

Her charms at every Cornish knight,

The Faye had taught her every spell

‘Or she took old King Bragwen’s sight;

Then fled the land, a seven year

She wandered with her sorcery

To dwell where desolation ruled,

Surrounded in her mystery.

But Lord Provane, to scorn the King

Did fetch her with an hundred knights

To wive and child him at the tower

Of Castle Bleak, for some despite;

Then guard her, that she never might

Be taken by the savage king

But live alone within the tower

While he rode hunting, every spring.

And when I was a child, she bore

A daughter to the Lord Provane,

That none had seen, ‘til once I caught

A glimpse of her - Maradelaine.

A glimpse of her within the tower

A head of gold that gleamed and shone,

An eye that pierced my heart with pain

Of love, that sought where love had gone.

For I sat breathless in the rain,

To seek a further glimpse of this,

A vision, ‘prisoned in my brain

The hair, the eye, the hand, the lips.

The hair, the eye enchanted me

I rode as in some troubled dream,

The Castle Bleak would draw me back

Again, again, or it would seem.

‘Til once, again, I sat to wait

The vision at her window ledge

When rode a figure from the gate

And called to me by stream and sedge:

‘Go back, be warned; she’s not for you

The maid must never leave this place!’

The Lord Provane then turned away

Dull anger burning at his face.

And I would sadly turn and ride

To nurse my hurt away in dreams

But caught then at the window ledge

Some slight, odd fluttering, it seems.

And so I looked again, and she

Defiant to her father’s care

Blew one long kiss that would me win

If she had been but standing there.

She waved but once, and left the ledge

And I rode gladly through the day

And swore the maid would soon be wed

If I could free her, where she lay.

At Christmas-tide, as always, when

The snow lay thick, as is its wont

The Lord Provane did take his knights

To sport and joy them at the hunt.

And they did seek the running deer

To make the festive table glad,

And they did seek the mountain boar

To drive with hounds, ‘til it grew mad. 

And so they rode, and I did seek

My chance to breach the Castle Bleak,

No knight remained, but still the art

Of Morgause made her daughter meek.

I rode thus to the battle-tower

To beat three times upon that gate

When Morgause called from in her bower:

‘Come you in love - or come in hate?’

‘I come in love to claim the hand

Of your sweet maid, Maradelaine,’

I called - ‘So open up your gate

And save this knight from love’s sweet pain.’

‘You have no claim on her,’ she cried,

‘She has no due to owe to you,

I've marked her for another’s bride,

A marriage she would want to do.’

My heart sank as I beat the door

And clashed my shield in great a din:

‘I shall not leave your battle-tower

‘Til you repent, and let me in.’

At this the gate full slowly swung

And in that courtyard I did ride,

The Dame Morgause in anger stood

As I looked, keen to sight my bride.

‘What coward knight will wait ‘til all

The men have left to join the hunt,

Would you two hapless women take,

What glory would you seek, or want?’

At this my shame came down on me

A wretched knight, faint heart for love,

Each word she spake did scorn for me

To shame me, and my Lord above.

False knight I was, dishonoured then

I knew she spoke what truth there was

So on my knee I begged her grace,

Forgiveness from the dame Morgause.

She heard me out, but said no word

So then I turned in shame to leave,

My love had turned my sight and mind,

Now I could only live to grieve.

But as I turned, the dame did smile:

‘Ah well - in youth the head is hot

And you are but a boy indeed,

Methinks that you should grieve you not.’

‘As you would leave, I bid you stay,

‘Tis lonely in the castle light,

The men are merry, why not we

You may amuse, this lonely night.’

And so I stayed, and left my horse

And ventured to the chamber door,

Where sat the vision I had seen

And loved and grieved of, evermore.

Her beauty had a flawless touch

Her hair more shine than any gold,

She did not greet me overmuch -

‘Twould not become her to be bold.

The dame Morgause then spoke once more:

‘My daughter has few words to say,

Shut up in this grim battle-tower

She grows in silence every day.’

‘She pines for love, for she has heard

Each knight boast in the hall below,

Their conquests echo in the tower

And bring her cheeks to blush, and glow.’

‘So I betrothed her to a knight

The flower of all our gallantry

Who she will wed at Hallowmass

Within the year, so swore to me.’ 

  

‘And what of you, what brought you here

To we, to gaze from yonder peak,

What took you from your daily quest

To ponder us at Castle Bleak?’

‘What standard do you serve, young sir,

Your arms I know not from before... ‘

‘I am Sir Dennister,’ I spake,

‘The son of Caradan de Vore.’

At this the dame Morgause did start

And clutch her breast, as if in fright;

She slowly sat, took hard her breath

Her breasts did heave, her eyes were white.

Maradelaine took fright at this

And rushed to tend her mother’s side

But every question that she’d put

Morgause would see them all denied.

‘If I had known that you were he

That battered on the tower gate,

I would have bid you flee again

‘Or it would ever be too late.’

‘Some things are set, and this be one

No spell might set this fate aside,

For this was told to me the night

Provane did take me for his bride.’

‘But this is not for you, my dear,’

She told the pale Maradelaine,

Please leave us now, I’ve much to tell

That, did you hear, might cause you pain.’

The maid arose then, dutiful

And questioned not her mother’s words,

She left the chamber silently

To mount the tower’s dim-lit stairs.

And when she’d gone, Morgause did look

Me bitterly and long, before

She made to tell what Sir Provane

Had told her at their chamber door.

‘Before my lord was set on me

In youth he sought to have his way,

And fell in love with some grand dame,

The wife of one, to his dismay.’

‘This still did not deter milord,

Her husband hunted near and far

And often was this dame bereft

And left to wander, would she where.’

‘But little care this husband had

For women, or their company,

He much preferred the hounds, the hedge

The laughter and the gallantry.’

‘So she would stray while he would hunt

But only with propriety,

Her maids went Maying in the woods

While she mixed her society.’

‘Until she met with Sir Provane

Who made no secret of his court

And they exchanged those kisses sweet

By which most ladies may be bought.’

‘In short, one day she lay with him

Within this very tower’s space,

And they did make some merry sport

‘Til she, with child, did leave this place.’

‘Did leave and sware to come no more

Lest her undoing be of it,

My lord did grieve but short, before

He took me in the place of it.’

‘But now the subject of the tale,

And this will see the end of it;

The dame was Ellinor de Vore

Why do you pale to know of it?’

‘Your mother was that same de Vore

Your father was my own Provane,

Sir Caradan de Vore did stir

But quite a different type of game.’ 

     

 I sank at this, first to my knee

And shook as one with bitter ague

Then fell, insensible at this

But moaned and wept as there I laid.

Three hours I lay, as in some fit

Three hours where nothing I recall

To wake within a wondrous bed

Of gold and satins overall.

And at my side, Maradelaine

Who sat and watched me, tenderly,

‘What did I in my fever speak...?’

I questioned her most endlessly.

For it had then been clear to me

And this that put me in such swoon,

Maradelaine my sister was -

I dared not breathe it in that room.

With love I was so overcome

That madness caught me at the brain,

I would defy all heaven’s law

To spell me from the grief, the pain.

This madness told that she was mine

This winsome maid who sat by me -

Perhaps the tale was but a plan

That we might split asunder be.

Yes - that it was, my head did reel

And I would then believe of it

Or any tale that I could tell

To put the lie to all of it.

The dame Morgause did plan it all

To keep her daughter’s love from me

I would defy them, one and all

Defy the mother’s sorcery.

Defy the father in his den,

Declare my name be known to him

And watch his visage closely then, 

And so divine the truth in him.

I lay so troubled with each doubt

That fever took me as I lay,

Maradelaine gave me to drink

A potion for my heart’s dismay.

Then ointment sweet she smoothed on me

At forehead first, then at the throat

And presently I slept awhile

To dream strange dreams of some dark moat.

Of some dark moat and blackened tower

That man might keep all evil in

While I was chained in some deep bower

And fed with every mortal sin.

And every sin that I did then 

The tower a shade of darkness grew

‘Til it was black, as black as pitch 

And still I sinned, and sinned anew.

When light came dimly by a maid

Whose chaste desire had not been won

But now, my thirst for sin was such

I nothing good would leave undone.

And so I tried my sin once more

That this dim light might fail for her

When in one instant she became

A raging beast, as black as tar.

Then I perceived that she, the beast

Had cozened me with many a wile

And I sought prayer to set me free,

Release me from this woman’s guile.

So I awoke, the fever quenched

With dawn just tilting at the day

Then lay awhile, my courage spent

To let my dream drift on its way.

I lay alone some time before

I heard the movement at the latch

Then saw my maid to smile at me -

Her beauty made my throat to catch. 

   

Her beauty bloomed with every glance

And now she flushed to look on me,

The flush of love is not some chance -

‘Dame Nature put that blush on thee...’

I said, now bolder for my rest,

And she did flush the more for it

And laughed aloud, right merrily

That I’d divined the cause of it.

‘How long have I been sleeping thus,’ 

I asked the maid, when she was still: 

‘A full ten days have we despaired

That you would ever wake - until

Some magick kiss was laid on you

Just as that magick faerie tale -

But now no kiss I’ll spare of you,’

She said, and coyly loosed her veil.

‘The knights return tomorrow eve

So we have little time to spell,

My mother sleeps ‘til noon, so we

May sport and play as you would tell.’

And saying thus, she leapt abed 

To play and laugh most sportingly; 

‘Is this that quiet maid I met?’ 

I spoke to her thus tauntingly.

‘What would your will with such a maid 

Who offers all that you would seek, 

Will you be gentle, prithee knight, 

Will you cavort in Castle Bleak?’

‘And would you take this maidenhead 

That never has been known by men, 

And will your soft caress be fierce 

When once your love has long been spent?’

‘What say you knight, in love or lust 

Do you discharge your love for me, 

If all my flesh should turn to dust 

What then would your love want of me?’

And so she teased and taunted on

While I took pleasure at her breast,

And every kiss she gave to me

Was sweeter than the robin’s crest.

Was sweeter far than any wine 

Or any sip of any sup,

And when her body clung to mine 

We drank to dregs the loving cup.

Until, in passion, I cried out 

When pleasure turned sweet-bitter pain:

‘My love, my love, my one delight, 

As Jesus loves...’  I spake his name.

At this the bed swept in the air

And turned twice over, upside down,

The sheets of gold were turned to black

As she and I fell to the ground.

When as I lay, still in her arms

She screamed, and I did plague her house, 

For I lay at the naked breast

Of sorcery - the dame Morgause.

‘For sin, for sin,’ I cried me then, 

‘For sin you have destroyed me now, 

I gave my love the same black fiend 

I dreamt me of, not long ago.’

A sword hung silent in the air

The blade above, the hilt below,

A dark, blaspheming crucifix

To mock the Lord where demons go.

This sword I plucked, and turned about 

To call a prayer upon its cross,

The bed fell to the chamber floor,

The dame fled screaming, at her loss.

And I, with vengeance burning me

Did think to put her to the sword,

I searched each chamber as I went

But found no sign, nor any word. 

Nor any sound that they might be

Sequestered in the Castle Bleak,

I ran from room to stair, and then

Saw something glimmer, and did speak:

‘Come out, you of the devil’s art 

Your sorcery has gone amiss,

No more you’ll take your daughter’s form, 

No more your evil carapace.’

‘I mean to put an end to you,

Your magick will out-magick’d be,

This blade is tempered for your heart,

This edge will end your sorcery.’

And so I leapt in at the room 

A form did cower by the bed, 

‘Wilt take you now,’ I raged full sore 

And seized Maradelaine, in stead.

Her fright was such she looked at me

Full mute, and pale as any sheet,

My rage would not be overcome

At this, that demon’s last conceit.

‘I’ll not be cozened, nor deceived

Again by you, my pretty witch

There is no substance to your charm,

Your soul is black as any pitch.’

And so I raised the sword on high

As she, in terror, gave her wail -’

At this the Red Knight wiped a tear

And broke in grief to tell his tale.

And he did weep before those knights 

As any child did ever weep,

And long it was before he caught

His tale, without his voice did break.

‘I swung the sword a wicked sweep

And cleft that maiden at the neck,

Her head hung from the golden hair

I’d grasped, then held in bitter reck.

And blood did spurt and stain the floor

To rain down in some oubliette,

And blood, red blood did stain the door

The chair, the bed, the coverlet.

And all her gore did weep on me

For I did wait her change of shape,

I thought to see the dame Morgause

Lie dead beneath her bloodied cape.

But still the shape remained, and I

In deathly fear then cast about,

Could this be she I'd cleft to death -

Sweet Jesus, save me from this truth!

Then as this knowledge fell on me

That love lay slain by lover's wrath

Some madness seized my sanity

And I did seek to plight my troth.

And I did roll within her blood

To thrash and wail in my despair

But clasped her, that my lips would meet 

The bloodied face, the bloodied hair.

And kissed her in my throes of grief

As I did rail and rant me there,

The life I'd held to be most sweet

Was nevermore to greet me there.

Then as I sat to wail and keen 

A deathly torpor came to me, 

I stroked the head as in a dream 

Then felt this mantle cover me.

A mantle, red as any blood

That brought my mother’s words aloud:

‘Beware the blackened battle tower

And she who spins the crimson shroud!’

For as it touched my shoulders, I

Did cease to move, or make a sound,

But sat most dull and staringly

Toward the door, and at the ground. 

And shortly I perceived that she

Stood silently within the house,

An evil dread swept over me -

The shadow of the dame Morgause.

She said no word, but took the sword

And lifted it on high to swing,

Her sorcery secured me fast,

I could not move, nor anything.

I could not then defend me well

But waited for the mortal blow,

I had no wish to live, so I

To Jesus did commend my soul.

And as my sweet lord’s name did sound

The merest whisper at my breath,

The sword flew from the lady’s hand

Nor would return to do me death.

But ‘bedded in the solid stone

That she could never draw it forth,

She turned and ranted at the ground

& cursed & screamed, nor stopped for breath.

Then turned and vent her bitter spite

At me, that could not answer make,

She cursed and damned me with each word

And sobbed, ‘til heart was fit to break.

‘My daughter, who was pure in heart

By fickle knight has now been slain,

You rightly wear your mother’s curse

Now you have took Maradelaine!’

‘The curse I laid upon her womb

When she did bear my lord a son,

That all her labours waste too soon

To leave her lord a barren line.’

‘I swore her son would soon be led

To bleed at this, the blacken’d tower

And spent my time in weaving this,

The crimson mantle of my power.’

‘For seven years and seven moons

I spun until my fingers bled

To make the shroud to spell you in,

I made its seams of gypsy red.’

‘So not a seam may now be seen 

And it has settled fair on thee, 

And you must do what would beseem 

To bring Maradelaine to me.’

‘For as each deed that has been done 

Was done within my one enchant, 

You may redeem, by further deeds 

My perfect child, if you repent.’

‘But while you wear the crimson shroud 

No man may know what name you are, 

Your arms shall be as red as blood 

And men shall fear you from afar.’

‘For every thing shall glisten red, 

The blood of my Maradelaine, 

And no respite shall you enjoy 

Until you seek to come again.’

‘For you must venture forth at this 

A bloodied knight, in search of him 

Who’d be your match in bloodied fight

Without you put an end to him.’

‘But you shall have a special power 

That mortal men may never win, 

A single weakness will be yours; 

The eye that loved Maradelaine.’

‘The eye that thinks that it can see 

What is, when it may be deceived 

As I did prove - no thing appears 

To mortals that may be believed.’ 

‘Yet of your fault, and of your faith 

You may defeat this sorcery 

If you be steadfast to your cause, 

Repair this mother’s misery.’

‘And I will sware upon her head

If you should leave her as before, 

That I will spurn my sorcery 

And live in penance, evermore.’

‘And so, good knights, I left that place

To wander at the countryside,

Each knight I challenged by the way

Did fall before that woman’s pride.

‘Til I despaired of meeting one

That measured where my weakness lay,

And so I rode, and weary fought

For full a year, and then a day.

Until it came your gallant knights

Did gather for the tourney joust,

And I did challenge ten to pay

My penance for the dame Morgause.’

He stopped at this, and dropped his head:

‘So now you know my very shame,

Not all the penance of my life

Could bring fresh honour to my name.

I’ve cost each knight that fought this day

The precious gift of half his sight,

I crave forgiveness for this sin

But pray I might but set it right.

For dame Morgause did sware that all

Was done within the one enchant,

So this as well may be undone

If we return - she may recant.

She swore she’d spurn her sorcery,

Would live in penance, evermore,

We have one hope, to take the chance

And win or lose as it might fall.’

As he did cease his tale to tell

He sank, exhausted, in the dusk

A deathly silence filled that hall

In Castle Radd, by river Usk.

The tapers lent an eery glow

That flickered gently at the night

‘Til it would seem that sorcery

Leapt darting at that feeble light.

And of that silent company

There were but ten that sat apart,

Each put one finger to his eye

As if his blindness he would chart.

As if by touch, each could dispel

The sorcery that took his sight

But touch could not, nor would avail

Each looked at each, the eye was white.

‘It would beseem that we must win 

Our sight again, and with you dare, 

The sorcery Morgause did spin 

Has bound us to your own despair,’

Sir Evelake did say at last,

And each one nodded in assent:

‘We must make all our cause with you 

That Morgause may be penitent.’

‘Pray, let me speak,’ quoth Orgulous, 

‘I would that I would speak my mind, 

‘Tis not for love I join this quest,

‘Tis merely that I see half-blind.’

‘I have no love for bloodied knights

That sin, as this Sir Dennister, 

His tale has made this clear, his deeds 

Do match his wyvern sinister.’ 

 

‘It would beseem his own desire

For one that was denied to him

Hath brought this curse upon his head,

I do not list to comfort him.’

‘I shall essay me with the best

To seek redemption for my sight,

But I would not be thought to bear

Goodwill to this most churlish knight.’

‘Nor I,’ then spake Sir Galbriance, 

‘Though I shall chance with all of you, 

I care not for his bloodless bride 

Though I shall dare as dare would do.’

‘Now I would add my word to this 

That if the maid,’ spake Borolak, 

‘Had been to me a daughter dear

Then I would also, nothing lack �"

But do as this Morgause had done

And more beside, in verity,

No sorcery would be too black

Did I preserve her chastity.’

At this a voice rang out from one

That put to silence their dispute:

‘Would each one judge from where he sit,

Is each man guiltless in his suit?’

‘Has none that felt the pangs of love

Done some misdeed he would repair,

Is each man faultless in his need?’

Thus spake Sir Constant, of Despair.

‘When love flits fairly at the eye 

Then reason flies, and may be lost, 

Not one may have the right to deem 

Another’s love ill-starred, or crossed.’

‘I would that we would thank this knight

For he has bared his shame to us,

And thank the lord this very life.

That we have had returned to us!

Thus were they stilled, and penitent

But made such plan as all did speak,

By undern would they them prepare

And essay forth to Castle Bleak. 

  

Part III

Eleven knights did clatter forth

Upon the bridge at Carleon,

Eleven shields, eleven swords

Eleven who did ride as one.

And through the countryside they made

A thunder of their armoury,

The maids were charmed, the churls dismayed

To see them in their pageantry.

They rode until the very dusk

Then sought them shelter of some church,

But dawn did see them riding well

To seek the tower of their search.

Three weary days they thus did ride

Three weary nights they sought to sleep,

They scanned the country at each rise

For Tower Black, or Castle Keep.

‘Til they did think this battle tower

Had surely sunk within the fen

When at the last, some long-late hour

The path was barred by two old men.

‘Good sirs and gallant knights,’ one spake

In greeting as they slowed apace:

‘What would you in these barren lands,

Go back, good sirs, return in grace!’

‘There is no thing ahead for you

If you should so pursue this path,

These waste lands promise nothing less

Than plague, disease, grim war and death!’

‘Go back, good sirs, while there is time,

This land’s undone by sorcery

No knight that rides for past a year

Has been but lost in mystery.’

‘We do not fear your barren lands,’

Sir Borolak then would he speak,

‘We ride to spill the sorcery

Of Dame Morgause at Castle Bleak!’

‘Stand you aside, or be undone

We have no mind to work your will.’

At this both men did give one caw

And in full sight did turn most ill.

For they did shrivel as they stood

And turn grim black with feathered wing

To fly, two ravens at the wood

As each knight sat him wondering.

‘Tis some enchant of Dame Morgause

To warn unwanted guests from her,

But we must ride to breach the tower

That we might see an end of her.’

They rode toward a pretty wood

But as they entered, could they see

The land was like a pestilence

With nature shaped in misery.

Each trunk was twisted, as in pain

Each bough was wracked, as in despair,

No leaf hid ought that they could see

For nothing green did grow in there.

And as they rode, from every tree

There hung a shape beyond all care,

This fruit was like no fruit could be;

Both men and maids were hanging there.

‘Twas like some bitter wood of death

For nothing lived nor breathed in it,

And silence laboured at the breath

For not no sound was made in it.

There, horses sped on silent hooves

Their armour ceased to clash with shield,

No sound would issue from their lips �" 

They rode ‘til all their senses reeled.

For every tree did hang its corpse

To stare them as they cantered by,

With gaping sockets, where some bird

Had neatly plucked each staring eye.

And as they rode, they came to where

Had once been some sweet bubbled spring

That now lay rank with poisoned weed

To promise death to anything.

And round about the deer did lie

In death, decaying by its stream,

No creature lived, no bird did fly

What thirst did quench, in death was seen.

They rode clear at the wood, its edge

And sound came back upon the air

When they did shout, and laugh and sing

To hear their voices ring out there.

But there a shape did bar the way

A knight as evil in his look

As any caitiff rogue unclean,

And they their merriment forsook.

‘Go back, I am Sir Dance of Death,’

He spoke, within his visor grille:

‘That wood is mine, while you have breath

Go back, and you may dance me still.’

‘My guests did dance all with the tree

To cheer my vigil, without sound,

So lightly stepped each maid that she

Did set no foot upon the ground.’

‘Base murderer,’ swore Orgulous

And couched his lance to bear him down,

The evil knight came in a rush,

Sir Orgulous did hit the ground.

Before the evil knight could turn

Perimavance was on him then,

While Dennister and Galbriance

Did slash and hack at arm and helm.

‘This is no time for gallantry,’

Sir Mar Dubay did call �" ‘Alack!

We must outnumber sorcery

As we have found,’ quoth Borolak.

So they did slash them, one and all

At this grim knight who called him death,

Did slash and cut without respite

‘Til Evelake did cleave his breath.

‘Til helm did roll upon the dirt

And he lay lifeless, by his lance:

‘Sir Dance of Death may dance no more,’

Then quoth the good Sir Galbriance.

But when each knight did set him down

To look this cor’se more closely at,

No blood was seen upon the ground

No hand was in the grey gauntlet.

No head was found within the helm

And of the cor’se was none of it;

The armour lay, an empty shell,

Each wondered at the cause of it.

‘So thus lies death, defeated,’ quoth

Patrelle, who cast the helm about,

‘Or death with death was cheated �" sooth,

We’ll meet again when time is out.’

They burst the armour, every piece

That it not harbour death again,

And rode another mile, at least

In quest of poor Maradelaine.

‘Til at the crest of such a hill

That took the very breath away

They saw a tower, black and bleak

To chill the shadows of the day.

A tower, black and battle-scarred

That seemed the very devil’s den

On some long god-forsaken plain

That Cain may once have hidden in.

A while they sat, and said no word

When Evelake unhelmed his face

To whisper this, and nothing more:

‘God in his mercy, lend us grace.’

Eleven knights then quoth a prayer

And made them ready for the fray,

They thundered down the barren hill

To meet what meet they would that day.

And as they neared the Castle Bleak

The gate did open slow, alack,

And out did ride a host of knights

With helm and shield and armour black.

And they did form a line across 

To bar the way before the gate:

‘Is one there called Sir Dennister, 

I fear that you have come too late.’

It was Provane that called him thus

Who raised his visor at his whim,

His face was gaunt and caught in pain,

His eyes were dark, his lips were grim.

‘You had one year and but a day

To journey to the Castle Bleak,

That day would still have caught the spell

But you have took a further week.’

‘And now the dame Morgause decrees

That if my daughter now would live

Then you must die; so girt your lap,

I’ll stay no longer with my grief.’

He snapped his visor down, and couched 

His lance, to drive at Dennister

Who spurred his horse and joined with him 

Before the knights so sinister.

Each clashed the shield and turned about

To drive once more across the plain,

Each lance did shatter at the shield

And splinters flew, to fall like rain.

The swords were drawn, and they did clash 

With mighty buffets at the helm:

‘I have no suit with you, old man, 

I care for your Maradelaine,’

Sir Dennister did shout at him,

But then Provane replied a blow,

And thus the two would hack and swing

And seek to lay the other low.

The swords did clash, the shields did bend 

But none could stop them, either one, 

At last did Dennister cry out: 

‘My lord, but would you slay your son?’

‘My dame was Ellinor de Vore....’

At this Provane did think he lied 

‘My son?’ he whispered at the grille, 

Then dropped his shield down at his side.

‘My son?’ he whispered, and was still 

But Dennister did see his chance,

He cleft Provane clean at the throat 

And called to Sir Perimavance:

‘Thus die all tyrants, such was he

That put my mother’s house to shame,

I have avenged her memory

And now, for my Maradelaine.’

The knights in black had sat in line

While ever these two did fight anon,

But now their lord lay still and dead

They stayed, as if to watch the son.

And one on one a flame did burst

From out the helm of every knight,

And fire consumed them as they sat,

And smoke did dim the fading light.

‘Til not a one was left to bar

The way before the Castle Bleak,

Sir Dennister rode at the gate

His dead Maradelaine to seek.

While in the yard, the ten did wait

Each sick to see what he had done,

The father set his arms aside

To lie, thus murdered, by his son.

‘I have no heart for this, I ween,

We should have cleft this knight to death

Not come to this enchanted scene -

One eye will do, while I have breath,’

Quoth Mar Dubay to Borolak,

And thus they muttered, in dismay,

While Dennister did seek the room

Wherein his martyred lady lay.

He scaled the staircase in a bound

And then did rush from room to room,

‘Til finally the chamber found

Where still she lay, within the gloom

As he had left a year before,

No thing was changed, her bloodied head

Lay staring at him, by the door

From where it lay upon the bed.

Then in the corner moved a shade

And he did pause to stare at this,

The dame Morgause did wait him there

And then did whisper, and did hiss:

‘Pick up the head and place it at

The neck, then hold her at the throat

And speak aloud these words I say:

Rabar rabar demèd tarote.’

He spake no word, but gently raised

The head, and looked him down on it,

Then turned the corpse upon its back

That he might see the more of it.

Then slowly did he place the head

To hold her gently, by the throat

Then spake the words Morgause had said:

‘Rabar Rabar demèd tarote.’

A moaning came within the tower

Like some ill-wind before the storm

That soon became a rabid scream

As violent tremors shook the form.

And then the blood that scattered lay

Flew streaming at her, by the throat

As it had fled, so it returned,

And she did cough, and she did choke.

And from the stone, the ‘bedded sword

Flew in the air and passed between

The head and neck as it had done

That deadly time before, I ween.

And he did catch, Sir Dennister

That sword on high above his head

Before it flew from out his grasp

And through the window, as it fled.

And stood he there so still to see

Maradelaine rise from the floor,

Then thrown so fiercely at the bed

Alive and lovely, as before.

While in the court, the knights had stood 

To listen at this sorcery,

The horses skittered at the howl 

That made to them some mystery.

But then Sir Galbriance did shout

‘My sight, I ween, I have it back!’

‘And I,’ quoth Sir Perimavance,

‘And I, and I,’ quoth Borolak.

‘Let’s get we hence, the deed is done 

We have no need to linger here, 

He has the maid, and we our sight,’

Then quoth Sir Constant, of Despair.

‘If we should stay he would be slain 

By one of us,’ Patrelle did sue; 

‘Far better that we leave to him 

What fate the lord may bring him to.’

And so they spurred them from the gate

And made them for the barren hill

To leave the blackened battle-tower

To him who wooed his wicked will.

And all the while, this Dennister

Had stood enraptured at the sight

Of his belov’d Maradelaine

Who lay her, smiling to invite

His love again, but dame Morgause

Did laugh a wicked laugh at him:

‘You think that now your heart may claim

The love of my Maradelaine.’

‘Some fools are born, and some are made, 

What fool are you I venture not,

I told you of the eye deceived

But you, like others, soon forgot.’

‘And now you’ve slain your only sire,

Have filled your cup of mortal sin,

And all for some insane desire

That hell would never venture in.’

‘For all your courage at the joust,

For all you would endure for this,

For all the pain when love was lost

You deem that you have come to bliss.’

‘Now look at what your love has won 

Look last at this Maradelaine, you’ve 

Journeyed hard, you’ve journeyed long

Now look what you did ride to claim?’

At this, the girl upon the bed

Did smile an evil smile at him

With such a look that he did feel

The heart drop in the heart of him.

For she began to twist and move

And shake her head within that house, 

‘Til on the bed, all evil lay

The image of the dame Morgause.

While in the corner, where she’d stood

He turned to look but once again,

And laughing by the window wood

The beautiful Maradelaine.

‘And which is witch you say,’ she laughed,

The mother taught the daughter well,

When I was cleft, the daughter sought

To bring me back with such a spell

I’d spun for her a many time,

We conjured many a noble knight,

You saw them fade before the gate

When every helm did burst alight.

And thus with you, no mortal man 

Is proof against this sorcery, 

But you did choose to come to us 

To join us in our mystery.’

And as she spoke, the noble knights 

Had gained the hill beyond the plain, 

Then paused to take a backward glance 

Before they left it, in the rain.

For drops began to fall about,

The first in all its history

As nature stirred and sprang to life 

To clothe it in its greenery.

And as they watched, the blacken’d tower

Did groan its timbers, and did creak

And then the walls began to crack,

The battle-tower of Castle Bleak.

And then the walls began to sink

Within the surface of the plain

When as it sank beneath their sight

They heard the cry �" ‘Maradelaine!’

And it did sound so very bleak

That they did shiver, where they were;

‘The Lord has brought his judgement down,’

Then quoth Sir Constant, of Despair.

So they did turn them, at the sound 

To ride into the very dusk,

They sought the warmth of Castle Radd 

At Carleon, by river Usk.

And swore they never would return

But thanked the lord for all their sight,

And thus rejoicing, told the tale

On many a frosty winter's night.

And Castle Bleak no longer stands

Upon that barren, evil plain,

A forest hides the barren sands

And birds do sing, and lovers twain

Do wander, loving, at the dusk

Not knowing that, beneath their feet

There lies a blackened battle-tower

That once was known as Castle Bleak.

Where in a chamber of that tower

There stands a sad and maddened knight

That calls him but a single name

That once did set his soul alight.

For often will she beckon him

To lie with her within that house,

But changes, as an evil dream

And does become the dame Morgause.

So we may leave him to his fate

This knight that was Sir Dennister,

Who bore such arms that suit him might

A wyvern, quartered, sinister.

And pray us of the lord above

That now forever, might we be

Sequestered in his heavenly love

'Til life gives up its mystery.

HONI   SOIT   QUI   MAL   PENCE

David Lewis Paget

11 June-11 July 1982

Reviews

[Tony Jordan]

Brilliant. Beyond anything I've read on WC to be quite honest.

Not just an epic tale David but told epically - a true tour de force - a magnum opus perhaps?

Love the language you used here - all adds to the authentic flavour and sets the scene verily (see what I did there mate...lol?)
I would have oloved to have read this at school as part of the cirriculum - I think it would rival 'Charge of the Light Brigade' for it's action and imagery.

I'm sure you breathed a great sigh when you were finished and smiled a big smile from ear to ear - I can just see that. Excellent!!

I'll certainly return to this one many times DLP.
Thank you for sharing this.

[Coyote Poetry]

Amazing epic tale my friend. Was a pleasure to read your work. Thank you David for sharing the outstanding tale.
Coyote

[SM Davis]

Absolutely EPIC! Honte à elle qui ne le pense pas!