Tales From Camelot

Time beyond time
Brings a tale of fate,
Of passion and love,
Of torture and hate.
Way back in days of old,
Tales are told
Of kings and queens
With crowns of silver and gold,
And the most famous of all,
King Arthur and his lady fair,
Were told of often in story and song.
Guenevere had golden hair,
And skin so pale
It reflected the lovely face of Lady Luna
When the nights grew long
And the silver of the moon
Shone upon the sleeping Camelot.
Arthur himself had a figure Greek,
And many a noblewoman
Strove for just a tiny peek
At the man who was said
To look like a god.
These two ruled Camelot,
And it was a beautiful land of mountain and sod.

Also in Camelot
Were knights so brave
They would cross the widest seas
Or brave the deepest cave
If 'twas the right thing to do.
They occupied a table round,
And kept King Arthur's head from the clouds
And feet on the ground.

Now, stories were writ
Of a forbidden romance between
Arthur's most beloved knight
And Guenevere, his fair unfaithful queen.
Lady queen fell into the eyes
Of Lancelot the brave,
And found it as impossible to climb out
As to return from the grave.
So Arthur arranged
For a joust to occur,
A joust; a good fight
For naught but the heart so pure
Of Guenevere the glorious.
King Arthur won,
As surely you know,
And Lancelot's life was done
As he lay in the arms of his queen.
She wept silent tears,
But cried no cries
To reach Arthur's ears
As his favorite,
His prize,
Died for the right
To stare into the queen's eyes
And feel her touch
Chill him to the bone.

Soon after this joust,
Guenevere's only child was born.
Merlin the magician
Blessed the tiny child
With the beauty of her mother
And a temperament mild,
And he named her Eleanor.
As the babe grew,
Merlin's blessing came to be.
Ev'ry knight and peasant knew
Of the young girl's beauty.
Arthur, fearing for her innocence,
Erected a tower quite high,
And it caused even the bravest knight to grow tense.
Upon completion of the pillar,
The girl's sixteenth year,
Merlin prophesied this:
Eleanor's mother Guenevere
Would not see the girl again,
For when the girl was rescued from tower high
The kingdom would mourn,
For their beloved queen would surely die.

Many a year passed,
And Eleanor's tears watered the ground
As she dreamed of the day
When horses hooves would pound
And a brave knight
Or handsome prince from a far-off land
Would rescue her
And earn her pale hand.
Her mother grew old,
And her father, too,
But still they ruled
Without a clue
That the end of their reign was near.
On the eve of Eleanor's thirtieth year,
She sat in the tower and plaited her hair
When a sound from below reached her ear.
A handsome lad,
Clad all in black,
Was scaling the stone wall
With just a rope and a sword on his back.
He reached the top,
And fell before his bride,
And Eleanor was filled from head to toe
With joy and pride.
Together they climbed down,
And they were married that night.

Guenevere died, as the magician said,
Died in her sleep without a fight,
And, mourning his dreadful loss,
Arthur abandoned his throne
And Camelot's gilded crown
Eleanor called her own.
Then she, too, bore a daughter,
A lovely maid
Who was by the magician
With the name Adelaide.
She was luckier by far, though,
Than her mother Guenevere,
For a son she bore, too,
A prince quite dear,
Named by Merlin
Michael the Bold.
Merlin loved the prince as his own son,
And promised the queen he would not grow cold.

Eleanor wrote and begged
Her father to come.
She attempted to bribe,
Even sending him a large sum.
She prayed he would come and behold
His own flesh and blood,
Play the great role
Of grandfather beloved.
He refused for some time
To leave his country home
And return to court,
Where he'd never be alone.
But, after fifteen long years
Of sorrow and tears,
He came out of hiding
One last time before retiring to his bier.
He traveled alone
With no guard and no sword,
Just a rough woolen cloak
And his kingly words
To keep him safe
From robbers on the way.
The journey was long -
It took many a day -
And as he neared the castle
He stopped to gaze
Upon a maiden fair,
Pacing about in a worried craze.
"My Lord, I am lost,"
She cried out to him,
"I fell in the river;
I could not swim,
And it's carried me too far."
Her voice fell soft
Upon his ear,
As the song of a bird aloft,
And the fire he'd not felt
For many a year
Rekindled him,
And his mind ceased to be clear.
He grabbed the girl
As if he were a young man
And turned away from castle and court,
Suddenly intent upon gaining her hand.
Back to his home
He rode without strife.
Never had he
Felt he had such life
As he did,
Holding her there,
Feeling her breath
And fondling her hair.
He took her
And swiftly laid her in his bed
And made love to her
As though they were wed.
"My beauty, my love,
Tell me your name,
That you may be mine
And I might make right my claim."
She replied,
Lips trembling with fright,
"I am Princess Adelaide,
And you cannot make this right.
My mother is queen of Camelot,
And she will have your head,
Quarter you,
Or perhaps burn you instead."
Then Arthur fell to the ground,
And horror struck his heart
As he realized
Whom he'd just torn apart.
His own grandchild,
The kingdom's heir,
Lay before him,
Her body bare.
He tore his robes,
For he knew what he'd done,
And knew for sure
He'd be quartered or hung
In the square
By his own child,
As, because of his greed,
Adelaide was defiled.
He cried out to God
And begged forgiveness,
But there was no reply,
And he knew he'd not get out of his mess.
He glanced 'round the room,
Avoiding her gaze,
And his eyes fell upon faithful Excalibur,
The sword from his kingly days.
His eyes widened in a wild craze,
And he took his sword from the wall,
Plunged it into his chest,
And to the floor he fell.
Adelaide jumped up with a shriek
And ran from the house with only a sheet
To cover her pale skin
As she ran in her bare feet,
Far away from the place.
'Though her mother worried and feared,
Adelaide would not tell
What caused her flow of tears,
A flow that would not cease.
She did not speak a word,
But rocked and hummed
Like a sweet songbird.
Michael her brother
Loved her dearly,
And longed to avenge her
And bring back her virginity,
But there was nothing to be done.
In nine months time,
She bore a child
And was whisked away that none would know her "crime."
She and the babe
Lived far-off in the north,
And time passed
'Til even she did not remember her worth.
And she spoke not a word
But to call the child to her side,
For the babe was the only soul
Poor Adelaide could abide.

When the child was four,
Adelaide was shocked to hear
From beyond the mountains to the east,
Scottish pipes falling upon her ear.
The tune she knew well,
'Twas the one she sang all day,
And both mother and child waited,
Anxious to see who came their way.

'Twas a Scottish lad
With hair of gold
And beard of red,
Who couldn't have been more than twenty years old.
Adelaide fell to her knees
Before the shocked man
And begged him,
Using only her hands,
To stay for a time.
He was hesitant,
But she persuaded him,
And to the tiny hut they went.
As she prepared bread and ale
For a measly little meal,
He told his tale,
And swore each part was real.
"I am Alistair,
Prince of Scots,
But I've no cause for throne
Or crown, 'though 'tis my lot.
I've run from life,
And am much happier here,
Playing and singing
For God and nature to hear.
I've run from court intrigue,
From prophecies and dreams,
From a place where greed is all that matters,
Or so it seems.
I've also escaped my fate,
For I was promised as a babe
I would wed by twenty,
And in a fortnight is that day."
As he spoke these words,
Adelaide caught his gaze,
And a blush crept into her cheeks,
And she giggled as she'd not done in many days.
Her tongue was loosed,
And she smiled a brilliant smile
As she told her sad tale to him.
It took quite awhile,
And when it was done,
The prince swallowed his pride
And promised to care for her
Until the day he died.
Her sorrow gone,
Adelaide immediately said yes,
Then explained to tiny Arielle
That Alistair would soon be more than a guest.
Then, too, she wrote to the court
And her brother, now king,
Of the miracle of true love,
And how 'twas a wondrous thing.
He begged her to be married at court,
And the couple agreed,
Knowing together they could face all,
The envy, fear, and greed
That was present in Camelot.
They were wed,
And were happier by far
Than any king or queen then dead.

For true love
Can save a life,
Bridge all caverns,
And bear all strife.
It spans he gaps,
Heals the heart,
And creates a bond
That nothing can tear apart.
History doesn't matter,
Only the promises made
To be faithful always
And not be led astray.
Only love and faith
Can make life worth living,
Can make each woman a queen,
Each man a king.

Love is a treasure,
A beautiful thing to behold,
As shows in this tale
Of kings of old.
It is God's blessed gift
To those who stay true,
Faithful to each other,
And to heaven, too.
I pray I can be
As Adelaide became,
Strong, happy, and brave,
Not lost and lame
As those with no love.
God's strength will make it well,
And love will prevail
Past all that seems like hell.
Past all that is gone,
All pain that will be,
True love will last
For all eternity.