Monday, 9 November 2015

A rabbit.

And so another event grows ever closer, Golden Flight in Southron Gaard. I hope the changes to my Kit work well (this will be their first test before Canterbury faire) I look forward in great anticipation to who our new baron/baroness/s will be and their coming plans for Southron Gaard.

I leave you with this poem,

And now Count Roland in anguish and in pain,
With all his strength sounds the great horn again.
Bright drops of blood aye springing from his mouth,
Veins in his forehead are cracking with the strain.
That mighty voice cries out a second time;
Charlemagne hears it, high on the mountain pass,
Duke Naimon listens, and so do all the Franks.
Then says the king, "That is Count Roland's horn!
He'd never sounded it, except for an attack."
Ganelon says, "What battle can there be?
You have grown old, your hair is streaked with white;
The words you speak could well befit a child.
You ought to know how great is Roland's pride--
The wonder is God suffers it so long.
He captured Noples, and not by your command,
And then flushed out the Saracens inside;
He fought them all, Roland, your loyal man,
And then took water and washed the field of blood,
Hoping that you would not detect the fight.
Just for a rabbit he'll blow his horn all day!
Now he is playing some game to please his peers.
Who in the world would dare make war on him!
Ride on, I tell you! What are we waiting for?
We've far to go to see our lands once more."

- an excerpt from a French epic, chanson de geste

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