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Writer's pictureDarkling Thrushes

The Will of the King

Four men in chainmail, arrived on horseback,

Quickly dismounted, in the sunlit grass.

Out in a field the farmers looked-up from toil,

Shielded their eyes from the blaze of the sun.

Soon the ditch was full of farmers’ bodies:

There was no fight, and the king’s men knew,

That afternoon, exactly what to do,

A strong-box, hidden underneath a bed,

Was emptied and the men loaded pouches,

With handfuls of copper pieces, laughing.

A mouthful of corn never stopped orders

From being given, the men took their places,

Of hiding. When an hour had passed, the door,

Opened suddenly upon a figure,

Clothed in the raiment of the teachers.

‘Where the hell is everybody?’ a young,

Woman asked, and met silence and furtive

Movement from the shadows of the kitchen.

As she turned, a blanket was thrown-up,

And it covered all her head and arms, so

That the guards could move-in and take her down.

Muffled screams disturbed the horses outside.

There was a fair share of laughter within,

For in broad daylight the King’s will was done.


__________

Copyright 2023 Jeffrey Merk

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