A Knight's Offering
PART I
The lone knight rode upon his horse heading towards the town
A stiff wind cut into his face while rain was streaming down
It soaked his hair as he sat there teeth clenched and bone core cold
On his way to kill a man; A pagan, he was told
It wouldn't be the first one and it wouldn't be his last
The battle scars could prove that earned in wars where faith held fast
Where men were sworn in duty by an oath to live or die
To serve the God Immanuel while holding banners high
And the only single function was to honor and obey
Where word was bond and kinship strong unlike it is today
The Truth was all that mattered, there was little coin to gain
The kings had drained the coffers and the land was run by Danes
But resolute he stayed his course and spurred the stallion on
Repeating to himself again, 'Be swift and then be gone'
PART II
The enemy was in a home he'd raided day before
He'd chopped the heads off all the boys; The mother named Lenore
Their father had not been there; He was plowing in the field
And told his wife that afterwards he'd miss the evening meal
For he was due in Herefordshire to pay the church a tax
And luckily as fate would have been spared that steely sax
And for this very reason all the gore had been for naught
'Cause the husband had the only thing the pagan might have sought
And little did the pagan know they'd had a teenage girl
Who out in back had carried hay to wrap it up in furls
And when she heard her mother scream she peeked in through the thatch
And what she saw caused her much grief while making her to wretch
She ran into the woodlot with her eyes tear stained and blurred
Knowing it was up to her that someone would get word
One half mile to the marketplace to anyone who'd listen
Where monks had been a-bartering red wine for venison
The teenage girl was on her knees by Prior Geoffrey
Who told the Lector Godwin who then Father Donnelly
A man who'd done a favor for the squire of the knight
Who then asked him to ask the knight if he would come and fight
PART III
And next day the sun had risen like the day it had before
And all the blood had nearly dried upon the earthen floor
But the pagan never noticed as he kicked an arm away
He just spat a mouthful of disgust 'cause he had overstayed
The only thing that he had found was over the hearth fire
A pot of boiling vegetables mixed in with meager fryer
No ale, nor mead, or even milk to quench his angry thirst
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poem by Sara Fielder
Added by Poetry Lover
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