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Wesle's Tale

Page 3

by Alfred D. Byrd

fitting to yield to.

  Your livestock is lost, unless some other

  Can bear the battle Bearheart failed in.

  That one, I'd honor. I'd own him the winner

  Of the hand of the bride who brought me hither."

  "I'd gladly give her to so gallant a fighter.

  He'd merit her marriage," the manor-lord added,

  "But the stalwart who'll stand, my estate's defender,

  Is, woe to tell, lacking. These wasps will linger,

  Buzzing about us, till they bear our bounty

  Away in the shield-ship. Such woe is my share!"

  All stared in sorrow at the star-men who sauntered

  As bold as bears about with their plunder,

  Till, groaning, the priest said, "These grievous oppressors

  Were sent, I'm certain, to sift us like wheat

  For the great transgressions we've grieved the world with.

  With us as their prey, why else would they prosper

  And feel not the fury of fire and brimstone?"

  His words awoke in Wesle's mind

  The sleight of slyness that had slipped through his thoughts

  When he went to the stable for the warrior's steed.

  As a vision of victory, he viewed that plan now.

  "They're wasps that brimstone will break the wings of,"

  He told his companions. "They'll pay for their terror.

  Stored in the stable is a stock of weapons

  That'll hasten them hence. Now, hear what I've thought of!"

  All listened with laughter to the lad at first;

  Then the wisdom his words held won them over.

  They ran to the barn to make ready for battle.

  To retell in this tale their attack makes me tremble,

  Recalling the courage they conquered their foes with.

  What fear must have filled the face of each star-man

  As he watched them advance, wielding with vengeance

  A doleful discipline from the Day of Doom!

  The hands of the household had hastened to help

  Turn Wesle's wisdom into weapons of fire.

  Now, the flare of torches, flaming with terrible

  Pitch and brimstone, broke on the pirates.

  At the head was a hero, hapless no longer,

  Wesle the Wonder, a warrior now

  Assaulting the star-ship with the stench of sulfur.

  Hard on his heels, a heroine ran,

  Golden hair streaming as she gave out strokes.

  The others aided the onset as well,

  Not least of them Bearheart, the lover of battle.

  The star-men scattered. Our stalwarts, unscathed,

  Ran up the ramp of the reivers' vessel.

  What wonders they witnessed in that weirdling hold,

  Our tale cannot tell. Our tongue lacks the words.

  They wandered a maze of walls made of metal

  Where flightless fireflies flickered in rows,

  And where bodiless voices bellowed void words,

  Till they found their livestock. They led it forth

  And stood in triumph while the star-men trembled.

  "Their deeds deserve death. Let their dues be paid them!"

  Bearheart bellowed. Others bade likewise.

  Bright, though, rebuked them. "How brave it would be

  To hew them while helpless! Do heroes slaughter

  Their defeated foes when fighting is finished?"

  Wesle, beholding the havoc. he'd wrought,

  Scorching of sulfur on silvery skins,

  Heard her plea for their plight and plotted their freedom.

  "They've learned their lesson. What a lay of horror

  They could carry to kin in the keeps of the star-fields!

  Let's send them in sorrow to sing in their halls

  The deeds we did when we doomed their foray!

  Recalling our rage, these reavers will cower

  And fear to set forth to face us again."

  "The boy has said well," were the words of the bard.

  The priest gave the prize of praise to him also

  In a meeting of minds unmatched in years past.

  The others applauded the plan as apt,

  So they fell back a length to let their foes,

  Hanging their heads, hasten between them

  Up the ramp to their ship, which raised and shut.

  With hearts that were high, all beheld the shield-ship

  Ascend in silence and sail towards the sky.

  They watched the ship wane to a wan little star-mote;

  Then the victors' vision viewed it no more.

  Assembled in silence, they savored the feeling

  Of battles won till Bearheart spoke up.

  "A fight to be feasted! Let's fare to the wedding

  And bring the bride to this brave one, who claims her.!"

  Bright, though, abridged him. "The bride isn't yours.

  You promised all present that the prize would be his

  Who was aweless in onset. You must honor another

  As him who should have the hand of your maiden."

  All present were speechless till the priest responded.

  "The words of our daughter have dealt out wisdom.

  The vows we vow in victory's vanguard

  Must be kept when we conquer, lest we court misfortune."

  "Well reasoned, good priest! Let the promise be rendered!"

  Thus, the bard made bold to bid the bride's father,

  And the holder hastened to hold the vow valid.

  Even Bearheart grumbled agreement as bidden.

  Wesle wondered at the words he'd heard.

  The drift of these statements seemed the stuff of dreams.

  The manor-lord, mirthful, made an announcement.

  "I've long shown little of love to my nephew,

  But, with pride, I now press this prize upon him:

  Wesle and Bright, as bride and her winner,

  If it meets with their liking, may mingle their lives.

  No words came to Wesle, wounded with gladness

  And blind with the brilliance of Bright's smile of bliss.

  He merely could nod to make his "Yes!" known.

  "Fine!" said the father. "Let's fare to the feast

  And mark this wedding with mead and with song!"

  All hastened to hall and held a fine feast there

  As they made the marriage with mirth and with vows.

  The prayers of the priest and the praise of her father

  Gave Bright as bride to her breathless husband.

  Even Bearheart bore his bitterness elsewhere

  As he hoped for their health as husband and wife

  To gild the gladness of that glorious night,

  This bard, your servant, burst into song,

  Giving voice in verse to the valor of Wesle

  And the praiseworthy prize his prowess had won him.

  Let's wish them well in their wedded life!

  Long may it linger, this lay I've sung you

  To tell you a tale of terror and wonder,

  Of laurels unlooked-for and love that was gained

  On a moonlit moor on a magical night

  By the wisdom of Wesle, the wily in warfare!

  ###

  Bonus Poem

  THE GOLD'S DRAGON

  IN THE CAVE both cold and dark that it calls its home,

  A serpent, seething with flame, is set on its gold.

  It has won the wealth it guards by way of slaughter,

  Has lived for love of its gleam, its light like the sun's,

  But fears its loss through the force of a foe's assault.

  Hearing its hall's invasion, a hollow footfall,

  It sees the sign of combat, a sword's refulgence,

  And hardens its heart for strife to hold what is dear.
>
  Guarding the gold of its hoard, the god of its life,

  The worm in its lair awaits the warrior's approach.

  The rivals, ready for strife, arrive at combat;

  A fire unfolds in the cave, but fails to conquer;

  The sword now seeks its target and severs a life.

  The hero beholds the blood from a heart now pierced,

  Gathers the gold he has won, the goal of his quest,

  And heads for the home he left in hope of fame.

  Grateful, his people greet him, their gracious savior,

  And hail him, with hymns of praise, their highest ruler.

  The gold he gained through courage now gives him honor:

  He weds the woman all prize as worthy of love;

  He wields the warlord's scepter; his will is supreme.

  To hold the worth he has won, the wealth of his gold,

  Becomes the care of his heart, the killing of joy.

  Each hollow footfall heralds his hall's invasion;

  Each sword reveals to his sight the signs of combat;

  Through fear of a foe's assault, he is filled with loss.

  The wealth he has won for himself by way of slaughter

  Is now his light and his love, and limits his world.

  Guarding the gold of his hoard, the god of his life,

  The worm in his lair awaits a warrior's approach.

  ###

  About the Author

  If you liked Wesle's Tale, you can read more of my work at:

  "Christian Writings by Alfred D. Byrd,"

  https://www.geocities.com/byrdthistledown

  I’m also the author of the following books, available from all major on-line booksellers:

  Thistledown

  Through the Gate of Horn: The First Thread of the Dhitha Tapestry

  The Ghost of Pelfrey's Bend

  On the Wings of Dream: The Second Thread of the Dhitha Tapestry

  Trinity, Canon, and Constantine: Clear Light on the Early Church

  Kabbalah for Evangelical Christians

  and of the following books available from Lulu.com.

  Asenath’s Tale

  At the Brink of War: The Fourth Thread of the Dhitha Tapestry

  Between Two Fires

  A Convergence at Shiloh: An Epic of the American Civil War

  In the Fire of Dawn: The Third Thread of the Dhitha Tapestry

  The Light

  Perryville: An Epic of the American Civil War in Kentucky

  The Road to Bull Run: An Epic of the American Civil War

  A Song of the One

  The Stars Bow Down

  To Dream Atlantis

  To the Throne of God: The Fifth Thread of the Dhitha Tapestry

 


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