Saturday, June 25, 2016

The Herald: Parts I-IV

The Herald: Parts I-IV
This one has more of a Medieval feeling, I think, rather than classical.

I: The Herald

Archangelo embarked in a condition of control
Ordained the vain front runner on the footpath to his goal
Of sovereign authority, his order bore the name
A package to deliver and a warning to proclaim

He'd been adhering to the line amounting to his norm
When of a vital matter did a fleeing girl inform
Whose father was a locksmith and the target of a sack
That left her with an item that the King expected back

A traitor to the royal court, the Duke of Pitch had struck
To bring affairs-of-state's delay as his men ran amuck
Without the precious envelope that held the royal seal
The king could not his might invoke to make the bandit kneel

The herald was convinced by her and let himself supplant
To navigate through areas a child likely can't
Allowing her sufficient leave for family's concern
As he alone attended to the property's return

Assured by the position of the low, traversing sun
He sought the shortest path across the lands the Duke had won
The wear of cruel dictatorship was in its early stage
A shadow closing in as from the turning of a page

By evening, he found refuge in a bleak and cheerless inn
Whose keeper seemed to welcome with a condescending grin
The serpent that awaited underneath his slender bed
Had fangs that sprayed a venom strong enough to leave him dead

He managed to contain it by his blanket's timely throw
And from the exit least surveyed, succeeded, out to go
For sleeping quarters he would have to settle for a glade
And let the evening sky extend its drowse inducing shade

He drifted to oblivion, surrendering to need
And feeling only temporarily, of danger, freed
Whatever hurdles lay across his solitary flight
Would have to wait at least until the passing of the night

II: The Posse

A cast of sordid characters converged in hot pursuit
The royal stamp presented an attractive piece of loot
Three predators intent on intercepting the stray scout
Imagined what he'd look like with his hide turned inside out

They traveled through the shadows with superior finesse
Sufficiently provisioned and assured of their success
United by a common and carnivorous desire
But each too centred on the self to totally conspire

Untypical was Antipath of men who worked for Pitch
Instead of breaking out of jail, he crawled out of a ditch
He lined the road behind him with the pockmarks of his pike
As with the hunted courier, he tried to think alike

The product of invasion's most notorious affairs
He'd been discovered by the bears and raised as one of theirs
They taught him how to wrestle and to hollow out a hole
Among the civilized, he sunk to fill the lowest role

His fellow fiend, de Bauch, would from another corner stalk
The witnesses against him were too terrified to talk
His fervency for violence propelled him well along
Inspired by the kill to come, he broke into a song

Towards the lost and frightened girls, he was no longer led
In favour of a victim with a bounty on his head
To sate his mad, sadistic thirst, he'd crucify and maim
Dismissing every screaming plea with neither grief nor shame

Young Malady, their trailing mate, kept her beguiling face
Sagaciously reserved for the most advantageous place
With simpering magnificence, she rounded out the crew
From whom the wise Archangelo intensively withdrew

Fixated on their roving prize, towards his camp they went
With Antipath the first to find it, following the scent
The dawn was just upon him and the smoke still in the air
The wild paths his prey had walked would show their signs of wear

III: The Savages

A feeling of foreboding kept the messenger away
From deep uncharted regions where the savages would stay
Beyond the mounted skulls that marked the bounds of their domain
Lay knowledge that Archangelo had no wish to obtain

A sportsman, talkative and proud, from round a hill, emerged
And joined him where the currents, to the outermost, diverged
From there the two would separate, the sportsman cutting through
Ancestral grounds the more informed declined to cross into

A hail of arrows fell upon the reckless pioneer
Who'd shunned the threat his cautious friend had proven right to fear
His anguished cry went out to join the jackal's distant call
And keen was the survivor to avoid his own downfall

Behind him lumbered Antipath, with sense of smell acute
Whose mastery of the outdoors was never in dispute
Determined to collect on a superlative reward
He closed in on the runner and his vigour was restored

The foliage was flattened by his overwhelming weight
A force he would employ to overcome and dominate
The duke would make him general and put him in command
His grunt would be, among the men, the word to understand

From dark and unfamiliar wood, the danger was revealed
When suddenly was needed the protection of his shield
He stumbled backwards into an immobilizing trap
Observed by his own target from a reasonable gap

Archangelo descended from the branch where he had hid
Delighted to be fully, of the lurking menace, rid
Abandoning the stranded brute to, from a swarm, defend
He left for new surroundings on which he could more depend

Throughout a lonely hamlet, he could only find a stall
To stretch out and recover in before the night would fall
As in the grim horizon grew a dark, malignant blotch
Distinctively embodied by the person of de Bauch

IV: The Hounds

The moon provided ample means to catch the mundane track
The fugitive had taken to accommodate his back
De Bauch would wait until the light extinguished on the sill
Before advancing to the site elected for the kill

He found the sleeper on the floor and held his urge in check
Though he stood only inches from his prostrate victim's neck
With failure now impossible, he let his visions go
Inventing with his twisted mind a frenzied horror show

The prisoner was fancied as he'd be when he was thrown
Upon the rack whose stress bore down on ligament and bone
And wore the sorry look that he'd for sympathy implore
As rotaries would grind to make him suffer more and more

While starving to a skeleton, he'd have to bake the bread
To cap the tasty dishes that his torturer was fed
In time, he'd have to lie inside his captor's spiked bed frame
And scream out to the pushing down of lovers at their game

The killer watched the fabric breathe, indulging in his dream
With time to let the darkness pass to daybreak's gentle beam
At last, he yanked the weave that warmed his unsuspecting toy
Which was not, the uncovered hound, intended to annoy

The dog exposed incisors to repel the barging guest
A grown man was believable for its mouth to ingest
It poked its head out quick enough to grab de Bauch's sleeve
A tug against the flailing arm, of weapon, would relieve

De Bauch went reeling, helmet striking on the kennel bell
And landed in the bloody trough for hungry hounds to smell
Inside a fort of solid hay, Archangelo awoke
The barking now reminding him of how he'd lost his cloak

Through exit to an open field, he fled the noisy sound
As the intruder's cries for help, in canine fury, drowned
A measure of tranquility was in the coming dawn
But by the will of Malady, it would again be gone

(to be continued)
  
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© 2007, 2016. Verses by David Skerkowski. All rights reserved.

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