“What vexes thee sweet maiden fair?”

Said kindly knight on flaxen mare,

“What fills thine eyes with tears of grief?

To stain thy pale cheeks there beneath?”

“Is not the sky the palest blue?

Do we not share the grandest view?

Warmed by the sun and summer breeze,

I ask fair maid, what vexes thee?”

“Oh kindly knight, what vexes I”

Fair maiden whispers in reply,

“A tale of woe, but where to start,

Gone is the one that rules my heart,

That brings the sun of which you speak,

And thus the colour to my cheeks,

Betrothed for but a month, no more,

Then called to duty and to war,

To fight for king and good St George,

He answered Richard’s rallying call,

And to the crusades rode again,

Now word hath come that he is slain,

And Lion-heart for ransom held,

What of me now kind knight, pray tell?

For with his death I am alone,

The summer breeze just chills the bone,

The view as empty as my life,

Now I can never be his wife,

And tears are all I have to shed,

For like my love, my heart is dead”,

Kindly knight dismounts his mare,

And kneels beside her as in prayer,

Takes her hand and softly speaks,

Brushing teardrops from her cheeks,

“Shed not thou tears for what thou told,

Oftimes they’re not as scenes unfold,

On battlegrounds, as well I know,

When sword meets sword and shaft leaves bow,

Amidst the turmoil of the fray,

Too easily mistakes are made,

And bad news travels like the wind,

Thus this is how these tales begin,

As for thou love, a friend of mine,

Rode at my shoulder many times,

Tis true he took an arrow point,

Where Armour plate and leather join,

Didst knock him from his steed tis so,

But in fact was just a glancing blow,

That left him stunned and lying still,

Thus fueling rumors he was killed,

Yet with the dawn his sense regained,

Fear not fair maid that he is slain”

“Oh kindly knight, how can thee tell?

Were thou beside him when he fell?

Or douth thou make the cruelest jest?

To taunt the heart inside my breast?

I taunt thee not sweet maiden fair,

Thou love is well, this much I swear,

Upon my shield and on my oath,

I owe my life to thy betroth,

T’was I he spared from being slain,

When arrows fell like falling rain,

And felt himself the arrows sting,

To guard the person of his king”,

T’was then she noticed at his breast,

And on his shield the royal crest,

“Oh kindly knight”, she cried, “thou art,

King Richard, known as Lion-heart,

Tis joyous news that thou art free,

And bring my true love home with thee,

With that King Richard bade her rise,

And dry the teardrops from her eyes,

And took her to the castle, where,

A wedding feast was well prepared,

And waiting for her was her love,

In wedding suite and velvet gloves,

With everyone they knew attending,

A woeful tale, but happy ending.

By S.E.Ralph

13-7-2004