For King, For God, For Country


After finishing scene 3 I knew I would have to give this it’s own page…After all I knew I would be coming back…lol


Scene 1:


The Knight slouched as he pulled himself up the hill. His scabbard created a small trench where it made contact with the ground.  Today the fighting was cold. Today the blood ran hot.

He reached the top of the hill, loosened his gauntleted hand that still held tight the hilt of his sword. Letting it fall to the ground. He dropped the standard clutched in his other hand, reached up, removed the helm which covered his face.

He surveyed the blood soaked battlefield, wiped the sweat from his forehead looked to the sky and then he began to sing:

I have won today, a field.
With valor and sword-point sting,
I have stood beside my countrymen
To fight, to save our King.
For what is gained in battle
Is achieved with dignity
For King, for God, for country
Will be free.

I have drank from raging rivers,
I’ve gazed upon the sea,
Climbed its mighty mountains,
Slept amongst the trees.
I’ve tasted dirt in battle
To breathe its jubilee
For King, for God, for country
Will be free.

God look upon my brothers
Who sleep with you tonight.
God, please give me the strength I need
To fight another fight.
And when my time is over,
And heaven comes for me,
For King, for God, for country
I will be free.

The Knight reached down and picked up his sword, wiping the still-wet blood off in the grass.  Then, returning it to its scabbard, wiped the remaining sweat off his face, smearing dirt across his forehead. Retrieving the standard, and in one hard thrust burying its end deep in the ground, letting the flag with the double serpents whip in the breeze.
Carrying his helm, the Knight walked down the hill. Standing straighter, he reached the bottom. Lifting himself into the saddle of his mount, the Knight turned his back on the field and spurred his horse into a gallop away from the hill…

Scene 2:


The knight walked toward the tavern and already he could hear the shouts from inside.

He knew his horse would be safe with the Smithy. He knew the man. It wasn’t his first time through this town. Besides, a few extra coppers in the old Smith’s purse would help. He thought about the friends he left on the hill, the ones who wouldn’t be here tonight. How many were left? He couldn’t remember. It seemed like the Old Code Knights were fading and being replaced by younger ones who were only in it for the money and fame. He knew, as long as the King was still alive, it wouldn’t get too bad. But things seemed to be slipping away.

The tavern was full of young Knights, drinking and throwing their weight around,
showing so much disrespect to the same people they were sworn to protect.

One, in particular, was a young barmaid. They were tossing her around like a grain sack and badgering her to sing for them.

The old Knight rose to his feet walked over toward the group. As he approached, he found himself suddenly surrounded by 5 young Knights. Putting his hand on the hilt of his sword, the Knight turned to face his adversaries. One of the young Knights pulled his own sword and said to the man, “You’re outnumbered tonight, old man. So, unless you prefer death to life, I would mind your own.” The old Knight shook his head as he spoke, “You shame King, God, and country and need to learn some manners.”

Just then, the barmaid broke free and ran to the old Knight. “Please sir, I wish no bloodshed tonight. There was enough shed in the field this day. I will sing for these rogues.”

The barmaid lifted her head and sang:

Down by the river’s waters
Under the shady tree
Maidens talk of fighting
Pray their men to victory

The muddy banks below them
The rainy sky above
With Knights upon their horses
Take with them a countries love

They fight for God and country
They fight for Arthur, King
So gallant and so noble
The bards and jesters sing

I say to you ’tis noble
I say to you ’tis right
For the Knights that fight with Arthur
Fight with gallant codes of might

After the song, the old Knight left the tavern. As he was walking down the muddy street, he heard footsteps from behind. When he turned to face whatever was behind him, he saw the barmaid running toward him. “I just wanted to thank you, sir. I’ve heard the stories of the old Knights and their Code. Perhaps the young men tonight were just weary from the battle today. Thank you again, sir Knight and long live the King.”

The old Knight didn’t say anything, he just turned and continued towards the stable thinking to himself:

I hope, for England’s sake, she’s right. I hope Arthur survives. But it’s never been, that easy.

Scene 3:


When cold from the outside lays siege to the fire on the inside.

The king watched the fire dance across the cold stone walls. Knowing that tonight’s battle was a loosing one, knowing tonight that the fire on the inside couldn’t hope to win against the cold wet chill on the outside.

The stone was old; years of rain and wind had seeped through the thick walls
making them cold to the touch, almost wet. “If stone could talk” he thought “then maybe it could tell me how I can win this fight”.

Arthur looked down the table. There would be no fighting tonight. The Saxons would need to regroup.
They were all here, his most trusted. All but one, his oldest and dearest friend, off running a kings errand, as much to keep him away from the main lines then to
garner any secrets that might be out there. He thought about all the men who died, all the men who would die, any one of them free to do as they would, being neither bound by king, nor God. But this was their country and they fought for the freedoms that any man should have.

The king thought about a rhyme that he had heard many times by his father. He looked down at his cup, closing out the brevity around him, trying to remember something he heard as a child.

How free is the laughter
How free is the man
When the forces of nature
Holds us in her hand
I do what I do
Like my fathers before
The blood of my country
To this I am swore

To this I am swore
To this I am swore
The blood of my kinsman
To this I am swore

Arthur lifted his cup, as he picked it off the table he noticed a ring where the cup had set.
As he looked down both sides of the table he noticed the same mark. The same mark no matter the man, no matter cup or chalice. An idea came to him, a circle everything equal no man holds an upper hand. You may follow your king, but you fight for your kinsman and in your country you are free.

Arthur rose, everyone quieted and looked up at their king.

“Could someone send me a wood smith” asked Arthur


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s