Medieval Prose by sirpeterjames.com
Along the trail of wilderness wandered I ,my heart did cry, who am, I who am I?
Yet no reply, no reply came to my reporte. Yet did the wind call in its flight yonder.
Is this the voice I seek, the voice of my thoughtse? Nay, surely not; the wind is but a knave seeking willful sporte.
My quest continueth, will I forever wonder who am I, who am I? Or will it be soon that I shall discover, what no other hath been able to tell to me, in answer to my plight?
Who are you, that would mention perchance from whence I cometh even before the womb of my mother, who so long awhile tooke leave the bounds of this earth’s domain, departing me in the loneliness of sorrow and pain?
The path is long, the hills are many and nere a soul did I meet, along the waye.
Answer my cry, dost ye not hear my plea? Who am I, who am I? Shall more of my lifetime bade me farewell, afore you answer my distress and leave me free to flye, as once I did?
She was a maiden faire who in my despair, did declare her love for me. Oh, joy of joys my heart rose to the moon and stars above. My delight being such, as in the night, sleep leaveth me.
I sought to dream of this maid, for greate were her beautye, but dreams denieth her to me and once againe, I was alone. Day would come and I would seek the maid shorn of me by my dreams.
We laye alongside the stream in the foreste, where I spoke many a tale of the ventures I had made. She declared a wonderment for my words and the tales which they tolde.
I begged her hand in marriage. “Oh, Sir,” she cried. “Thou art strong and bold, surely, a knight thou art. A knight upon a journie to the Holy Lande, there to slay the Dragons of the Sands. “Yea” I was too keene to replye, “If my ladye would utter such wordse, then surely they are so.”
“My Lord” she replied, “As you have requested my hand, to my father we shall go, for this is righte accordinge to traditions. “ Fear gripped my heart, but too soon I reasoned; shall a knight who is upon his journie to the Holy Lande, feare?”
“My Ladye, I shall venture to meet with thy father” “Then Sir, thither we shall go, and thy wilt aske my hand. I taketh my Ladye by her hande and to the large castle we journied.
My ladye’s father was a fearsome fellow, his eyes searing as the fire of the Dragon’s nostrile. “State your business lad”. He did declare in fearful voice. “Sire, I seek your daughter’s hande in marriage.” “Wot! Who art thou?” His Daughter was wont to wail, “Father, before thee is a Knight on journie to the Holy Lande, there wilt he slay Dragons of the sands”. “This is no knight; he is but a mere knave,” he roareth in rage. Begone with you vellein.” Whereupon he taketh my collar in hand and cast me forth from his castle.
No longer shall I be, a knight on journie to slay the Dragons of the Sands. Who am I, who am I, which hath been caste out even as a dog into the night? Then wind did whisper, “Ye are a man of the way and in the way, ye shall wander, Yet, that which ye seek, ye shall find, peace will know your soul and ye shall no longer wander.” The moon and stars gazed upon me and giveth their assent. They saith, “Go lad, seek that which has been set before ye, since the foundation of the earthe.” Seek it with all thy strengthe”. Then shall ye find, hime whom ye seek.
Surely, my cry hath been heard; I cry no more……
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