THE ROWAN CANTICLES - Canticle II: Canto IV - Green Eyed Girl
A Tale Told in the Ancient Manner
The Rowan Canticles is an epic poem written in doggerel tetrameter. In other words, although each line contains eight syllables and rhymes with other lines nearby, like Shakespeare, I’ve used enjambment (one line spilling over into the next) here and there, especially in dialog sections. Mostly, though, I’ve striven for iambic tetrameter, which makes for a nice rhythm. You’ll notice that couplets, quatrains and other rhyme schemes refresh with each long Canticle. The old school language of The Rowan Canticles can be dense, but hey, it’s fun and it fits the fantasy.
Each week I will post a fresh Canto here at Substack, adding to the story. You’ll find ninety-nine Cantos in all contained in the three Canticles. The work is 13,000 lines long, about the length of Homer’s The Odyssey.
I hope you enjoy it!
Odds Bodkin
Don’t forget to download the companion Glossary below for definitions of archaic words to smooth your read!
CANTO IV
GREEN EYED GIRL
If our fortunes were to us known,
And we, like playwrights, plotted chance,
Assuming then we'd not outgrown
Our zest for love, if not romance,
We'd probably have too much fun,
Too fast, too long, until we longed
For something that we had not done,
For pain, for worth, for being wronged,
For all the things that bruise our souls
As life bumps through Time's opaque doors.
No wonder, then, we're cast in roles
Where each one of the next implores
One's lines just as the story's writ.
This saves the plot, more oft than not,
Not knowing what will come of it.
For instance, take Gudrunlod's lot
As she stepped into Big Gald's place.
There stood Batty, spinster sister,
As broad of hip and plain of face
As Gald himself. He grinned, kissed her
And watched her gray eyes slowly steer
Across Gudrunlod's face and form.
"Who is this, Galdie? Why's she here?"
She asked, her features less than warm.
"Ho, Batty, sis, Gayla this be.
Me, I just met her on the street."
"That's no surprise, least not to me.
Whatever you do, be discrete
But seek no sin in my good house."
Gudrunlod stared and quickly blushed,
Touched at the button of her blouse
And almost spoke, when Gald's words rushed:
"Wait, Batty, sister, ain’t like that!
She knows Aunt Silya's name and tale!
She ain't from here." "Then where?" Bat spat
And shoved her dish into the pail.
"I simply seek her next of kin,"
Gudrunlod spoke, eyes green, mood black,
As she glared back. Gald rubbed his chin.
"I thought it best to take this tack,
Not sail a'talkin' down the street
Heeled 'gainst a whippin' gale o' fear.
No tellin' who this lass might meet.
Might not be good, oh Batty dear,
To dredge up all them ugly things,
Them rots and stinks and wizard woes.
Folks might say ‘tis bad luck we brings,
We livin' kinfolk. Aye, who knows?"
Big Batty's circling hands slowed down.
The sloshing suds around them stilled.
"I see," said she. A troubled frown
Shadowed her brows. "They's plenty killed
'Round this here port in storms and such,
But none like Silya, all know that.
A Demon killed her with its touch,
It and the Mages." Down she sat,
Wiped dry her hands and glanced at Gald.
"My brother here says this you know.
Fam'ly matters is what that’s called.
Aye, fam'ly matters , right. So go,
Lest you be fam'ly, which you ain't."
"I'm not sure that I want to be,"
Gudrunlod thought, then sans restraint,
Jibed: "Is your hospitality
Bruising to all or just to me?
For fish in air would rather stay
Than I would here. Pray, what’s the fee
In insults strangers here must pay?"
"Please, Gayla! Batty's harsh but good.
We've had a lodger for a spell . . ."
"Who never cleaned up like he should!"
"Perhaps not, but your chest did swell
When you first seen him, eh my Sis?"
Bat blushed and hurled the rag at Gald,
Who dodged it. "Close as any miss,
You poohcat grump!” She hauled
The bucket to her hip and spat:
"Take that back, Galdie, or be doused!"
"A sow enraged burns off good fat!"
He catcalled, boy-like, as she groused
In awkward shame, face struck with doubt.
"To your good sister, you're unkind,"
Gudrunlod softly spoke, "you lout.
Speak not lest you, too, be maligned.
Pray, Batty, hear me: I'll not stay,
As you, with others, burdened seem."
"Aw, Gayla, stay! We'll pile some hay
And . . ." "No, Gald, thank you. No, I deem
It wiser woods to frequent here.
Well, nice to meet you." Out she held
Her hand to Batty, green eyes clear.
"The hut where him and Silya dwelled
Is out the marshes," muttered Bat.
''No one goes there. ‘Tis evil ground,
Most think, I can guarantee that.
Fools like Galdie won't snoop around,
So you'll be safe, ‘least from the men."
Gudrunlod looked in Bat's plain face
And sensed her spinster's pain again.
"Might you, not he, show me this place?"
Bat nodded strangely, shook her hand
And grabbed a shawl from off a hook.
"Big Galdie's plans for you were grand,
Methinks," she smiled, shot him a look
And led Gudrunlod to the door.
"Just wanted to be helpful, s'all,"
He grumbled, looking at the floor.
"Even kingfishers' crests will fall
When they scoop fairies, 'stead of chubs,"
His sister chuckled. "What means that?"
He growled and backed against two tubs
Half-filled with rinse. Both had lain flat,
But now lolled thickly near their rims.
"Spill not my wash or fill the pail.
And don't get drunk, Gald. Your wit dims
While your tongue brightens with each ale.
You know this lass, who'e'er she be,
Must not the town's attention draw.
I'll take her out there secretly.
And you? Keep shut that pearly maw."
"My gratitude's a pendant plum,
Big Gald. Some day, to you 'twill fall,"
Added Gudrunlod. "Don't be glum.
I foresee friendship for us all."
Outside, she slapped a sleeping ox
And with Big Bat, whose gaze, less harsh,
Swept nervously the city blocks,
Gudrunlod rolled off to the marsh
Where Galdie, eight, had run to warn
Her parents of the mob's intent,
That broken place where she'd been born,
Which now she swore to reinvent.
Continue to Canticle II: Canto V →
Back in the Rowan Hiils, Broodie Catland has driven Devlin’s people from their lands, thanks to the help of hired Mages and their demons.
I woke up at 4 am and this was next in my 4444 emails! I love how you’ve woven in some aspects of philosophy with this piece, though I admit I’ve far to go to catch up. “ when we no longer have the need … for lovers “ and “ she went to reinvent herself “ are thoughts that I get in my own infirmity. 🙏🌹❤️