Knight's Fall

“Knight’s Fall”

The wide sky above swiftly darkened,

Heavy grey clouds killed the golden Sun.

Scared villagers, their fears they hearkened,

Believed their lives were soon to be done.

An evil man to them had appeared,

Dressed richly in robes of black and red.

Sinister and cruel, a man much feared,

Makes of resting souls an ill undead.

A once free people, each now his slave,

Grimly feed his bottomless hunger.

Young and old, their lives they sadly gave.

Nearly all gone, could last no longer.

When things seemed worst, appeared a savior!

Noble and pure this powerful man.

Kind, yet bold, a mighty warrior,

Astride his steed, with his sword in hand.

Hard he fought that foul, gruesome army,

With true-hearted skill, valor unmatched.

As the damned fell, laid where all could see,

The warlock soon an evil plan hatched.

"The brave knight’s good soul to be stolen!"

Was now the wrathful warlock’s command.

His spirit trapped, could he fight again?

Will a good man's bright mettle still stand?

Strange forces shot bright across the sky,

A sinister magic spell unleashed.

Gleaming silver shield blocked fell deed’s lie,

Returned it to source and the spell ceased!

Grateful, the people made the knight lord,

And under his care, all life now bloomed.

Living simple, he laid down his sword,

To charity hand turned, grace resumed.

Sunlight shone warm over sweet, green field,

Cattle and sheep grew fat in number.

The village regained wealth from the yield,

He asked nothing, but gentle slumber.

No demands made, just a place, a home,

Paths to stroll and a passing kind word.

The knight simply wished no more to roam,

No more glory road, just peace preferred.

Relentless time passed swift, as it will,

Once wounded people grew strong again.

Gentle knight aged, at home on the hill,

Past forgotten, soon the town will sin.

That bright soul, body decayed, senile,

Is now old, his resolve become weak.

Fading from his former grace and style,

The years did havoc upon him wreak.

No one there wanted to care for him,

His deeds dismissed, and long forgotten.

Raw ambition cried, “Let his lights dim!”

Knavish louts shouted, “He has no kin!”

Ungrateful their demands, “Let us rule!”

Jealous seeds planted, doom at his end.

Among the crowd, came a snarking fool,

Beneath his cold eyes, he snidely grinned.

“You deserve more! Make me your new king!”

“Choose me, I would be more than this lord!”

Where mourning bells should begin to ring,

Instead a mob looms, rabid they roared.

Then by his friends, the true knight was killed,

His once proud, bright being left to rot.

Those honorless crude souls the fool led,

Beat an old man, so proud they had fought.

Over the village, darkness resumed,

The sneering fool's sheepskin quickly shed.

Hateful he stood in his black and red,

Foolish, fearful folk shrunk back in dread.

Light struck down, unnatural forces,

Villagers in all directions fled.

Death, pain, blood filled streams run their courses,

They prayed for help, but the good knight’s dead.

Those poor and few lives left, slaves once more,

The warlock rules as their brutal king.

What was done the fates cannot ignore,

For life lost, the bells will never ring.

-- J.R.H.