The Lantern Affair
Three strong men with a wagon of barrels, slowly but steadily traveled the road,
Potted, grown over, in places quite muddy-
the men cursed and struggled, so great was the load.
The barrels were drawn from the castle’s deep cellars,
Full of the very best blackberry wine,
Rounding the bend, they gazed at the now
budding hills of the manicured blackberry vine.
Rarely were barrels carried so far, but tonight they’d be tapped at the Lantern Bazaar.
Villagers walked on the cobblestone roads,
Jolly and spry for their labor was done,
The shady old trees that led to the meadow,
Were blocking the rays of the afternoon sun.
Rising excitement with every step, anxious for dusk and the thrills of the night,
The Maid Catiebeth, who was stunning in yellow,
carried, like others, a small lantern light.
Around the meadow, guards were posted, Strangers watched the growing crowd,
Strangers in their capes of leather, standing tall, erect, and proud.
On the road were hooded strangers, greeting people from the town,
As Catie neared, a Stranger asked the maid to put her lantern down.
Knock..knock…a casual request,
Don’t give it any mind.
Just follow, like the others,
Comes the Hiss.
Knock…knock…Please step aside, My dear,
Until you can comply, My dear.
Please make a good decision.
Comes the Hiss.
Knock…knock…This is a minor thing!
I see that you still love the King.
Hurry, lest the fun you miss.
So says the speaker of the Hiss.
Oh, she was hungry! She’d starved in the dungeon,
She’d cried and she’d waited- The King never came.
With no one to share in her torment and sorrow,
Save for the Lady repeating her name…
Who was that woman she’d seen in the dungeon,
Cast, undeserving, into a deep well,
A foolish one stays in a bad situation,
Wasting away in a passionless cell.
Ah, she must find her own way to draw water,
Foolish girls wait for the Prince to ride in,
Start a new life for the Kingdom has fallen,
It’s better to hope in the kingdom of men.
The grass by the road was littered with lanterns, some of them, yet, held the flame of the Prince.
The Maid Catiebeth laid her lantern beside them,
Choosing the sights in the indigo tents.
Glamorous gowns of the finest of fabrics, rich silks and taffetas, buttons of gold,
At once Catiebeth felt a flush of her youth. A surge of sensation, defiant and bold.
Eyes that were painted in kohl, black as midnight,
lips painted pink for the Lantern Affair.
Lavender flowers were braided in ropes and worn like a tress in her chocolate hair.
The sun started setting, the barrels were opened,
the spirits were offered and liberally poured.
Tables were moved. In the space this provided some women stepped forward.
And they were adored.
The maids were encouraged to step to the center,
and move to the music, a feast for the eyes.
The Maid Catiebeth was invited to join them- collective approval, a joyful surprise!
Knock…knock…the dungeon is no place,
For one with such a pretty face.
I applaud the Maiden.
Came the Hiss.
Knock…Knock…I know. He never came.
I bet the King forgot your name.
I’m surprised He left you.
Came the Hiss.
Knock…knock….don’t be so insecure,
You’re beautiful and strong: mature.
Nothing bad will come of this.
So said the speaker of the Hiss.
The Maid slowly swayed to the beat of a drum,
she unlaced her ribbons and tossed her bouquet,
Enlightened by all of the freedom around her. The Patriot Maiden was quite a display.
Rebirth of beauty, a sultry seductress, ah, such independence like she’d never known,
Free to determine her future condition-
the queen of the fair took her seat on the throne.
The danger was not from the kingdom of men…
the danger, real danger emerged from within.
The darkness was coming, the twinkling
starlight alighted the sky of a deep sapphire blue,
The Maid Catiebeth, no Light and no lantern,
began to consider, “Now what shall we do?”
Darkness arrived and the torches were fired, lifted like stars, suspended in air,
A voice, soft and low, then powered by others: an anthem began at the Lantern Affair,
“I do them honor by singing their song,
Thus, it is love, and love’s never wrong.”
Drunk with the flattery and admiration,
Desiring the notice, she let her voice lift,
Euphoria came in a flash when she realized,
That every observer acknowledged her gift.
This wasn’t the song of the Covenant King,
Who could it hurt? She was gifted to sing.
Darkness was drawing, Strangers converging, lured to the clearing, singing their song,
A goblet was filled with a brown, murky liquid.
Each took a sip and then passed it along.
Near came the glass of the murky, brown liquid,
Ah, they would notice if she let it pass,
Why would she complicate this situation?
What would it hurt to just sip of the glass?
This wasn’t the cup of the Covenant King,
Enticed, Catiebeth took a sip of the thing.
Darkness was filling, in excess consumed. More primitive passions beginning to stir,
The Maid Catiebeth was aware that a Stranger had taken significant interest in her,
I have an offer of love and affection,
Someone looked back in the way I desire,
I had assumed that I’d forfeited passion,
I’m thrilled to be filled with the passionate fire.
All that was dormant, awoke with demands,
Drunk with emotion and blind to the rest,
Sobriety left me (for it got me nowhere),
Losing restraint and the will to protest.
The Maid, like a child, wasn’t hard to convince.
She lay with the Hiss who was dressed as a prince.
Lantern left outside the fair,
Maiden thought her steps were sure,
Tempter came with words of praise,
She’ll regret the forfeiture.
Waking in a trampled meadow, void of cover, bathed in dew,
Sickened by her compromise and covered in its residue.