The Tale of Sir Padraic
Sir Pádraic Amadan
fallen in Fall Crown Tourney, A.S. XLII
The Tale of Sir Padraic
Through whisper green forest Padraic wends,
With Runa and birdsong at his side,
His horse steps lightly long river’s bend,
~~ The smile on his face is wide.
Towards Caid’s Crown tourney he makes his way,
Spies he a woman kneeling in mud,
Scouring armour in grisly display,
~~ The river runs red with blood.
Now glances she up from her morbid work,
As storms of fury play in her eyes…
But, Runa leans, and gives reins a jerk:
~~ “To linger here longer’s not wise.”
Padraic starts up, then follows his Lady,
Turns he back once, to look at the shore,
Nothing but sand, dappled and shady,
~~ Where Morríoghain stood before.
O, If you meet the Morríoghain,
~~ Best not to make her cross,
For they that cross the Morríoghain,
~~ Find deadly is her cost.
Still shaking fell visions out from his head,
Padraic enters the tourney field,
Randver awaits with Dragon of red,
~~ And stricken, Padraic reels.
The Knight he rises, takes sword in his hand,
Faces Don Eogan, then Andrew Baird,
Victory is his, all goes as planned,
~~ With Edward next he is paired.
Sir Edward Senestre that crafty old boar,
Faces Padraic, then brings him down!
Knight and Commander, valiant in war,
~~ Lost is his chance at the crown.
Sad Runa sets Sir Padraic adrift,
In willow and hide-skin coracle,
Honour and Valor sent as a gift,
~~ To that darksome oracle.
O, If you meet the Morríoghain,
~~ Best not to make her cross,
For they that cross the Morríoghain,
~~ Find deadly is her cost.
- ... is a 6th c. Ostrogoth in the service of Theodoric the Great (and occasionally a 15th c. Venetian Condottiere).
Copyright
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