Fortune's Embrace
Midsommar at the Long Barrow
![](https://res.cloudinary.com/jerrick/image/upload/d_642250b563292b35f27461a7.png,f_jpg,fl_progressive,q_auto,w_1024/6676554ef3ed60001dd9f1bc.jpg)
"Mark you," sayeth he, "At Ayelsford's bloody battle,
Flesh and bone feathered cruelly with arrows sharp,
My voice cried out loudly to long absent Fortune,
This bleeding body an offering for a godly boon."
...
The olde man, eyes white, frost heavy upon his brow
capered before them as he laughed and mocked,
Grinning at their angry words and bearded frowns,
Their long-pointed fingers barring from their towne.
...
"Two grinning Saxon's saw death in these eyes," he taunted,
"Misfortune for them, they saw mine not their own
As I leaned upon my halberd bright. Do not doubt the might
Of these sinews, good fellows, as testifies their bones."
...
"But when I spied brave Fortuna running my way,
I cried out his name as he leaped into the fray
Cutting down many a foe barring our way, Saxon
Arrows flying thickly and yet missing him everyone."
...
"'Fortuna!' I cried loudly to rally those who had fled
Fortunes shifting as our warriors returned stoutly to the field
Fortuna's tongueless bray rising above the howling mass,
Wept we for joy as our blades drove them thru the pass."
...
But those dour men remembered not brave deeds of olde,
The Saxon shadow long a curse upon fair Briton,
Staring haughtily at his blind gaze and withered flanks
They scoffed, "Go a beggin' at other towns, olde one."
...
Some called for the priest to drive the prancing pagan away,
But as his cowled figure approached a spark of memory lit
A forgotten stronghold in his ancient, righteous heart,
"Do I know thee olde friend," cried he with tender care.
...
The two friends clasped one another and wept
The priest calling for meat and mead while gazing
Piteously at his friend's deep and blinded eyes.
"Rest and take thy fill, my good and lordly king."
...
The frowns upon the city's guards deepened
As they whispered darkly, "Who might he be?"
But good King Vortimer they did not acknowledge,
He who slew the Saxon tyrant Horsa at Ayelsford.
...
"Remember thee Fortuna?" cried the good olde king,
Mead dripping merrily from his hoary beard.
"I remember him well," the olde priest answered,
His eyes misting at the memory of such a one.
...
"He mutely begged of me as a boy," said the priest,
"His tongue cut most cruelly from his wee mouth.
I tried to instruct him to read and write Holy Writ,
But too simple, he, to learn the Roman script."
...
"Aye," said the old king, "I too, tried to teach,
But the poor, dumb childe could not learn
To parry, block nor stab, only swinging wildly,
A danger to brother warrior and foe alike."
...
"But his heart was stout and true, a better friend
None ever dare ask." "Tis true," answered the priest,
"He was goodly and honest a soul as any in God's
Starry host. I often remember him at my praying."
...
"God's good fortune graced him not, and yet
Fortune carried him like an eagle astride the wind."
"Aye, the king answered softly, "Many died at Aylesford,
But Fortuna alone of all my host remained uncut.”
...
"And after?" the priest asked with wrinkled brow.
"Aye... and After," the old king echoed sadly.
"Mortally wounded I was. They carried me atop a bier
To my long and kingly barrow before Midsommar's mourn."
...
"As they lay me in that dark place, the dawning pierced
The hammerstone and flooded my tomb with light,
Fortuna embracing me where I lie, his tears like goodly
Prayers, Sulis, Goddess of Healing, did vouchsafe."
...
"And after?" asked again the priest, the king sighing.
"Anon, anon, he joined the field and whet his Blade
With Saxon blood, and anon he departed after. With him
Fled Briton's fortunes to distant unsullied lands."
...
And weeping, good King Vortimer finally took his leave;
And passing through gates no longer barred
He leaned upon my arm as he tottered through our towne
To return to his barrow and his final midsommar's mourn.
About the Creator
John Cox
Family man, grandfather, retired soldier and story teller with an edge.
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Comments (16)
Excellent words
John, this is incredible! You know I love the "Old" feel, and you brought it to life, beautifully
This is amazingly written! Congrats!
👍✨💕- sometimes there's just no words
I'm so glad I was forced to read Beowulf in high school. What an achievement, here! Better than smiting Grendel. I agree with Gabriel. Other-worldly, historically, tragically, heroically, and preternaturally.
It is a poignant and evocative tribute to the legendary past.....I liked it.
Absolutely incredible work; if I was told this had been written by a great poet in ancient Britain, I'd believe it in an instant. Thanks so much for sharing, John!! :)
Beautiful and masterful! Agree with Rachel, too!
I cannot fathom how this came to you. A ballad? An historical story written so all may remember. An entire tale told in such a magical way that leaves my imagination reeling in wonder. John, this has such a magical rythym.
I love olde worldy historical things, so this was right up my alley 😁
Amazing!! Rachel said it perfectly so I won’t compete with her spot on comment! But this was character driven excellence with a timeless flow
I'm not very well versed with the English you used here and I'm so sorry for my ignorance 😅 But despite that, I was still able to understand how sad this was when I read between the lines. Such deep emotions. I loved this so much!
Oh this was dark and brooding. Loved it. Never heard of Vortimer it has to be said. And will be back to read this again later too. You have a wonderful way of words and this had a lovely, if menacing or sad flow to it all.
And so the fortunes of old kings are written. I liked the tone of this, John. It had that timeless bard feel, of storytellers citing tales from history around the fireside with that touch of the unknown and otherworldliness which would have dominated the lives of the early British kings and subjects. We have lost that a little with science although, in some ways, I find, it deepens my wonder about the world we live in and how it's composed. But I think the not knowing, whilst it breeds uncertainty and wariness, is where the magic lies. You've captured that sense of something other here.
What a haunting ending. You made a very thin veil between the mortal and the supernatural in this.
Love this, keep up the good work.