The Knight slouched as he pulled himself up the hill. His scabbard creating a small trench where it made contact with the ground.  Today the fighting was cold. Today the blood ran hot. He reached the top of the hill, loosened his gauntleted hand that still held tight the hilt of his sword. It fell to the ground. He dropped the standard clutched in his other hand, reached up, removed the helm which covered his face. He surveyed the blood soaked battlefield, wiped the sweat from his forehead, looked to the sky and then he began to sing: I have won today, a field. With valor and sword-point sting, I have stood beside my countrymen To fight, to save our King. For what is gained in battle Is achieved with dignity For King, for God, for country Will be free. I have drank from raging rivers, I’ve gazed upon the sea, Climbed its mighty mountains, Slept amongst the trees. I’ve tasted dirt in battle To breathe its jubilee For King, for God, for country Will be free. God look upon my brothers Who sleep with you tonight. God, please give me the strength I need To fight another fight. And when my time is over, And heaven comes for me, For King, for God, for country I will be free. The Knight reached down and picked up his sword, wiping the still-wet blood off in the grass.  Then, returning it to its scabbard, wiped the remaining sweat off his face, smearing dirt across his forehead. Retrieving the standard, and in one hard thrust burying its end deep in the ground, letting the flag with the double serpents whip in the breeze. Carrying his helm, the Knight walked down the hill. Standing straighter, he reached the bottom. Lifting himself into the saddle of his mount, the Knight turned his back on the field and spurred his horse into a gallop away from the hill…                                                                                                     Peace Abel