THE ROWAN CANTICLES - Canticle III - Canto VI - Seditionists in Love
A Tale Told in the Ancient Manner
The Rowan Canticles is an epic rhyme about the length of Homer’s The Odyssey. I’ve used character voices and music to bring it to life. The old school language can be dense, but I hope it’s fun. It fits the nature of the fantasy.
You’ll find ninety plus Cantos in all, thirty or so contained in each of the three long Canticles.
If you are just discovering this work, it’s much more enjoyable if you start at the beginning.
https://oddsbodkin.substack.com/p/the-rowan-canticles
Happy listening and reading!
— Odds Bodkin
Don’t forget to download the companion Glossary below for definitions of archaic words to smooth your read!
CANTO VI
SEDITIONISTS IN LOVE
“Love’s urge, like blinders on a horse,
Assures we hasten down the course
To mating’s blissful finish line.
And despite life’s dull distractions
––Often swarming in the actions
Of prudes who boo from the sideline––
It’s best to woo without remorse,
And follow instincts, be they coarse
Or fine, it doesn’t matter much.
What matters is to know love’s joy
And mess around in life a while
Before to pasture we are sent,
Our skin sagged loose, our backbones bent.”
So mused Goodpelf, with a faint smile.
Not since he’d been a little boy
Had he felt so alive. Her touch,
Her kiss, just holding hands, inspired
In him all kinds of happiness
And lofty moods. It was so clear:
Love was a private atmosphere,
A womb-soft, liquid cloud, no tear
Might fall from, no. He’d kiss her ear,
Tenderly fondle at her dress,
And hope more hugs she yet desired
Again. Oh, joy. And oh, the food!
He’d never eaten quite so well
In all his days. The canapes!
The selps! The bomfrets peeled and steamed
In fish sauce. Yes! At times, he dreamed
That his old life, his rascal days,
Were back, and he, caught in the hell
Of life without a woman––sued
And chased out of some hayseed town––
Had lost his Batty, whom he loved.
Then he’d awake and see her there,
Waiting and chaste, outside his room
With breakfast. Soon, their cheeks abloom
With constant blushing, they’d compare
Their nights’ sleep, Goodpelf’s things all shoved
Into Gald’s quarters. Tumble-down
The dwelling was, but he cared not.
For all his comfort, though, he wished
Big Gald had been set free by now.
Alas, though months had passed, the Dwarf
Refused. And gloom had crept the wharf
As well. Empty crates filled each scow
As hungry men sailed forth and fished
For days for catches so hard-got
That weariness made hunger’s bite
Seem all the deeper. “Well, at least
They don’t blame us,” Batty observed,
“Like times before.” “The Dwarf’s gone mad,
I think,” Goodpelf said, “if you add
Things up. Look how the weather’s served
Up lately. First, the wind blows east,
Then north, then south, then west, despite
Our best entreaties.” “You’ve been good
To all of us,” his Bat replied,
“Just going in there with requests.”
“The Mage has found out who you are,
Thanks to Grodoo. He’s never far,
The little bastard. He protests
That you and I have now denied
Him his employment. Oh, I should,
I know, do something. But, at least
No one’s come for you, which implies
You’re safe, I think.” “Of course, I am,”
Bat said, “until those two show up
And cause him trouble.” From her cup
She sipped her tea, then licked some jam
From off her spoon. “And for your tries
At getting my Galdie released
I owe you kisses,” added she,
Pecking him lightly on the cheek.
“The fishmen listen to you now,”
She went on, speaking quietly
Next to his ear. “They wait to see
What you’ll do next. They want a row,
I think. They’re mad. It’s how you speak.
They listen to you. Secretly,
They’d love to burn the Temple down
And run the Mages out of town.”
“Wouldn’t we all.” “But they’re afraid
Of life without them, too, I think.”
She angled past him to the sink
And washed her spoon. A cavalcade
Of what-if’s merged into a frown
Of thoughtfulness on Goodpelf’s crown.
Amid his shuffling, jostling horde
Of thoughts, the tent-poles of a plan
Rose up, a plan that would return
Possessions of a better ilk
Than all the gold and shoes and silk
He’d ever swiped. Yes, he would learn
To live life like an honest man,
A cleaned-up conscience his reward.
“Methinks I’ll drink with a few swains
Tonight, and feel them out a bit,”
Goodpelf spoke low, pulse quickening.
Thus, he and Bat sat in their home,
Heretics in their catacomb,
The plot around them thickening,
Not knowing how, in this gambit,
Soon blood would fall like heavy rains.
Next Week: Canto VII
WARNING: IN THIS CANTO THERE IS A BEAUTIFUL BUT QUITE EXPLICIT LOVEMAKING SCENE. IF YOU WOULD PREFER TO SKIP THIS CANTO, PLEASE DO.
Now powerful tandem Mages, Gudrunlod and Devlin make cosmic love in celestial foam. For all their happiness, though, they are still filled with vengeance. She against the Mages, and he against Broodie Catland. Traveling the dells with Skar, they approach the midden where Devlin hid his stolen gold.
