Herald

The words I used "Herald of the Dawn"
that Heather siezed upon
are not new to me in concept,
nor to Sakin'el.

I wrote this in 2002, before moving to Knoxville, TN
from Sacramento, CA. It is of a different type of haven
than this Abby -- but there are similaritities.
I once had this memorized to give at Bardic events,
but it was considered "too spiritual."


The Gauntlet

His form was bent and crippled, with a face that torture told;
but his Falchion sword had a Toledo edge, with buckler shield to hold.

The massive hall seemed hewn from the cliff, stone by massive block.
It stood alone at the crossroads of life,
calling to those knights of suffer and strife,
a safe haven for all, weak and the strong.
Such was the fortress named Ravennoch.

The vaulting arch was carved with deep care, in language four by four.
"Enter here only knights, weapons by the door."
He entered there and cast upon the floor
a mailed gauntlet that called to shame
the ancient sad boast that castle forswore.

The liveried guard was giant of form, with spike hauberk set to bar,
But he tumbled to sprawl upon the cold floor, with crash that carried far.

The gathered knights rose with a mighty shout, grasping for missing blade.
"By what right do you defile this pledge,"
cried a Templar priest of historic age?
They surged forth to be sure challenged
by flashing dance the spinning sword made.

"I was here when these golden stones were set, before your father's birth."
'Hearken unto me with weapons at rest,'
were the words we carved above the crest.
With passage of years your presence defiles
this most hallowed home upon the earth."

They slowly drew back in confused awe, shaken to their very core,
for the knight prancing there was of legend,
stories told by fire when the day did end.
No one knew his true name or favor claim,
but by bronzed rondels on chest he wore.

"I'm passing by from distant land, that of shallow youth's fame,
On to the place where 'was' and 'what will be', are found to be the same."

"I am the squire of the morning mist, herald of each birthing day.
I am the champion of daily hour's command,
from chivalry's call for strong helping hand.
Hearken to me poor excuse for a man
Who huddles here 'neith that craven display.

Only once in this life will your heart be touched, gleaming honor brought to bear,
when a maiden's silk scarf burns in your hand,
launched on brave quest set by fire's brand.
Only once in a knight's life will heaven call.
Yet you stand without blade, holding only fear.

Forbearance, not carved demand, that excludes the spirit bold,
and imprisons the will with devil chain,
can surely replace surrender's pain.
Stand up one and all and reclaim your pride
and quick remove those words the arch does hold."

He stood there firm in warrior pride, driven by right's own claim,
while those haunting words of yesteryear's call, erased the chiseled shame.

"Yes, I am on the path to most certain death, n'er to pass this way again.
I am the monk seeking peace in Mother Earth
where setting red sun will measure my worth.
But do not fear for God's claim on my soul,
for each day grants new life devoid of pain.

I will bring in the day to squire your birth, gentle gird your loins in mail,
And cap your brow with helm of pure delight,
and grant curved shield of Aegis' might.
Claim your sword my friend and never cry yield
for I will be watching, will never fail.

Where what 'was' joins 'what will be', there is proud eternal braid
that in our evening's death there will cycle new life, to conquer unafraid."

"Hearken unto to me with weapons at rest."

papa faucon