Second rate work designed to proliferate ideology and keep ya off my backs for a while.
-
The soldiers were lined up neatly on their horses. Spears hung limply at their side, leather saddles reflected dimly the slight light that wasn’t broken buy the massive trees.
“Any who would surrender, form a queue.”
None responded save for the men who marched out of their tents, leaving wife and child behind, grabbing sword, axe, spear.
“Surrender or die.”
An archer forced his way up, lighting an arrow with a torch. Lifting it and drawing his bow back.
“Surrender or burn.”
An axe shot out from the small crowd of men, thrusting itself deeply into a rider.
The arrow was released, throwing itself deep into the sky, arcing and leaving a faint trail of smoke.
A rider toppled off of his horse, the tame beast looked frightened about, as freedoms suddenly rushed it. A million liberties charged that broken stallion, the saddle was weightless, the driving rod had fallen its last, the bits could be spat.
Swords rushed across the field, spears were hurled deep into horseflesh.
Into the camp an arrow landed, swallowing a tent whole in its devouring grasp. Soon a flaming tempest had taken to every tent, dashing them across the rocks of fate, striking suddenly and leaving nothing but ash.
Horsemen pulled their steeds forward, forcing them into battle, driving their spears into the barbaric horde. The knew they were defending their motherland, they knew that no good could come from this camp, no sciences, no literature but the spoken stories, no life but the ragged children that burned so quickly.
And as the camp burned and as the barbarians were forced against iron blade of spear a solitary stallion danced and trotted into the woods.
-
Firm ropes bound Henry’s hands behind his back; the firm wooden cage encompassed him. Everything was limited, constrained, forced.
“Onny chance that ye’ll be littin me out soon?”
“The guard simply smiled, “As soon as we’re in London, soon as you’ve met yer sister. She wants te talk to ye.”
Henry mumbled as he settled back down, he was filthy, covered with the ashes of his camp, his hair was bound together by caked mud, his face was scarred far beyond what it had been when he had last seen his sister.
Things will be fixed, he promised himself. Hits sister would set matters straight and he would lead a new group back into the wilderness and back into freedom.
Even he feared that it wasn’t true, he had heard what she was calling herself now, the Great. She was showering herself with grandeur. The megalomania that had infected all of the men that had left their freedom and the wilds had not spared her. He was, for this reason, afraid.
-
He was bound more tightly still, his shirt was torn and his pants were frayed.
“Welcome to London, Henry.”
Henry frowned, “They tell me that you spent the gold you stole from my people in building up this palace, is that true?”
She smiled mischievously, “The people insisted.”
“You wouldn’t let what the people wanted stop you from doing what you wanted.”
She paused for a moment, shrugged.
“What’s become of you Elizabeth, where is my sister?”
“I have people to serve now, Henry. I haven’t tried to escape my destiny like you have.”
“Escape? I live as I was intended.”
“You were born to be wild?”
“As a true nature’s child,” he grinned. It was a poem he had composed years ago as he played rebelliously with his lyre, “I can fly this high, I never want to die.”
“You were born for more than that Henry,” she shared his smile, “We can both tell that. Rule, the crown beckons for you.”
She took the crown off of her head and offered it to him, the gold shimmered enticingly, the gems glittered almost magically.
“I can’t, Elizabeth. I never want to die, you already have. You’ve surrendered yourself entirely to the task of ruling and I wish only to be free and see others free.”
She pulled the crown back and placed it gently on her head, “There isn’t room for that anymore, there are only the conquerors and the conquered.”
“Why? Where did we go wrong that we had to fight amongst ourselves, when did greed become the highest virtue?”
She grinned sadly; gesturing out the large and ornate opening in the wall, “Ask them.”
He shook his head, “Let me be free, let me take the men who would be free and let us join the wilderness again.”
She frowned, “There isn’t room for that anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because there are the Spanish, the Aztecs, the Chinese, any of these have stolen your right to be free and solitary.”
He frowned harshly, “I can’t live the life of the city dweller or of the slave.”
She shook her head, “There are those who call for your blood, you know that Henry. Promise me that you will submit to those lives and I will spare you.”
“If not?”
She smiled, “There is a phrase that Caesar taught me… ‘Vox populi, vox deus.’”
He was familiar with the Latin tongue from his hunts in the lands they had presumptuously called their own. He grinned at her phrase.
“You have no will left, you have no morals left, have you sister? Do you know that women and children burned alive at your command? Can you not hear thei8r screams?”
She shrugged, “Civilization has its price.”
He stood, stared fiercely into her eyes, “Let it pay its own, then.”
