A medieval tale of deceptions.

I’ll tell you a tale
Both cunning and cruel
Of three men who were
Put to the test.
Each one desperate
To find a way out,
And fate,
Ever weaving her web.

The Poet and Jester
Were called to the court,
Summoned forth
By a ruthless young king.
His royal majesty,
Being much aggrieved
Was clearly overwhelmed,
By the state
That his state was in.

He yearned for the solace
Of a story in rhyme,
The levity
Of a simpleton’s jest.
But his two performers
Did fear the summons,
Having good reason
To be vexed.

In truth, the pair
Had been lying low,
Avoiding the ill-tempered king.
Knowing the fate
Of the High Court Adviser
And the offending conversation
That sentenced their friend.

The wise man entreated
The arrogant ruler,
Spoke of unhappy peasants
And Vandal incursions.
“If you’re so afraid,”
Said the king in tirade,
“Perhaps you’ll ponder it less
In the dark of my dungeon!”

With much trepidation,
The Jester and Poet
Said nothing,
Did nothing,
To prick the royal ears.
Silence, they knew
Was better than shackles,
Best to be cautious,
Feign mild distraction,
Than endure cruel torture
For many a year.

And so, they conspired
To sound the man out,
The Poet to pun,
The Jester to muse.
And if his Highness
Were to doubt or to question,
The two would start laughing,
And change point of view.

Their master, they prayed,
Would be well diverted,
No reason at all
To take cool exception.
This, they considered,
A respectable means
Of subterfuge,
And thus,
No more than
Innocent misdirection.

Said Poet, ”Your peasants
Are braying mules.
Your enemies strut
Like roosters.”
He made hee-haw sounds
And cock-a-doodle do’s,
Then waited for the laughter.

And coming not,
The Jester stood
And cried,
“Alas, our foolish poet.
Said he, “His words
Ring true enough
Though I doubt that
He would know it.”

“The sounding of the braying ass,
You see,
Must prove joyous
To its master.
Hale, and fit,
Anxious for the task
Needing naught
But straw and water.”

“And as for any rooster,
What cock could stand,
A rival to the royal fox?”
It’s only bravado –
(Impressive to the hens)-
But no more threat
Than a garrulous craw!”

The king, perplexed,
Did scratch his head,
As the Poet looked long
To the Jester.
“I pray our play
Has pleased our lord,
For our lines were switched,”
He offered.

At this, the king
Did laugh full out,
In mirth, did fall
Upon his knees.
“My Poet and my Jester
Both,
Would plot to make
A fool of me?”

Both men grew pale
And shook their heads,
Then clasped their hands
Together.
“Forgive our vain impunity,”
The Poet said,
“We viewed our ruse
As cleaver.”

“We did not intend
To deceive the king,”
The jester went on in haste.
“We were poking fun
At our intertwined roles,
‘Twas meant to entertain,
Your Grace.”

But only louder
Laughed the king.
Startled the two
With fits and tears.
With breath to catch
He spoke again,
And bade the two
To draw the nearer.

“I like the way you think,”
He winked.
“Your act was much inspired.
You would wriggle free
With your trickery,
To this end,
You have conspired!”

And rising now,
He faced the men
Removed his royal robe,
Then crown.
“You’ve given me pause
To consider my plight
And perhaps a means
To get me out.”

“Jester, you shall, henceforth,
Bear my crest.
You shall take my place
Upon this seat.
And Poet, you shall
Attend him well,
As the new adviser
To our comic king.”

“From this day forth,
My life is yours,
And I shall become
As Poet and Fool.”
Take heed, for there are
Villains about,
I pray respect
Be given you!”

With this, he took off
Cape and crown
Commanding the Jester
To put them on,
Then cloaked in black,
Took an old brood mare,
And swiftly rode
To flee the grounds.

Within the hour,
A peasants’ revolt
Caught king and aide
Without defense.
In chains the pair
Were swiftly bound,
As the raucous rabble
Proclaimed its independence.

So too, in a fortnight,
An army appeared,
Horsemen with swords
And armor of steel.
Killed many a peasant
'Til the court was delivered.
Found king and adviser
In dungeon, concealed.

Alas, this was not
A fortuitous thing,
For the pair
could not refute
Their regal garb.
And how do I know of their
Untimely demise?
‘Twas told by a jester
With the rhymes of a bard!




Michael S. True
6-29-08 edit 7-17-13