Treasonous Intent


The Church was magnificent; it challenged one’s mind

with idols representative of merciful wrath.

It reached for the heavens like the dreams of mankind,

but shrouded them in secrecy lest they find their own path.


With a small entourage, The King had dismounted,

his character lost amidst the doubts he had founded.

And with exuberant posturing, the Bishop and Priests

came forth to greet him...yet stayed on their feet.


Detached deference was afforded the crown,

its time ticking by as New Lordship came down.

And sycophants practised in licking king’s boots

were politically entangled in upturned state roots.


‘Ah, Your Majesty,’ the Bishop brightly beamed.

‘Much time has gone by since we saw thee, it seems.

If thou hast come here to pray, let us not disturb.

We shall empty this place lest some sound doth perturb.’


The King smiled in concert, with such false levity

that the Bishop was taken aback by his stark brevity:

‘I command thee cease what thou doest, this corruption of our Lord.

For everything which thou hast done is all I have abhorred.

My son was killed so callously that revenge was all I sought,

but all revenge has given me is the horror thou hast wrought.’


The Bishop’s glances were exchanged by Priest and Lay alike,

and sharpened glares were blunted thoughts of heads upon the spike.

But the Bishop kept their secrets close and, puffed up by his breath,

he dared to say these words he spoke and risked his very death:


‘The time for kings is fading fast and thou art but a dream.

Everything that we have done has torn at Satan’s scheme.

Thy merciful ways are weak and unfit for dealing with such hate.

Unless thou stands as one with us, thou must abdicate.’


The King’s soldiers marshalled and swiftly drew their blades.

‘Thy treason shall be punished!’ one of them shouted out with rage.

But no sooner had they made their steps than rifles loud resounded,

and The King was left alone and bare and suitably dumbfounded.


Soldiers of the Church emerged from cloisters darkly shrouded,

and royal troops were dragged away to leave the Church less crowded.

‘What say thee now?’ the Bishop mocked. ‘Or art thou still committed?

It is time that thou declared thy power hence transmitted.’


But then a messenger swift came in and fell straight to the floor.

With his head at their feet, he said, ‘My Lords, such news have I in store.

Your Majesty, today it ends, the reason for your pain.

For outside, guarded and held firm...

Lord Fensham is in chains.’

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