Knights of Tezoth

-- We often deem the simple foolish, and white appears to us as black? These words are dangerous in times of turmoil. They could be turned to great ill, and until I study the work thoroughly, you shall not publish it further! -- Ambrose concluded decisively, striking the floor with the butt of his spear, but a moment later softened slightly. -- Yet I wish no ruin upon you, and so that the work of printing may continue, I am prepared to offer a couple of manuscripts instead. Perhaps my biography, or sirventes full of valor, or a genre a la "fantasy in verse" might divert the minds of the capital and other lands from dark and fruitless thoughts for a time.

- I would be most grateful for any fruits of your writing, my lord. - The directress did not dwell on the fact that the work in question had been published several decades ago, and thus it was already a little late to withdraw it from circulation.

-- And if any copies remain printed that have not yet gone on sale, I must place a veto upon them. Fortunately, I wrote a work about the past recently and have it with me now, -- Ambrose, having handed the biography to the directress, settled himself with an air of ease at the nearest table. -- There is a bit here after the collection of works, and in the evening I shall send my servant to you with another creation of mine.

Spring Sirventes

***
When evil tongues insist to us
That truth in this world cannot be found,
That good is evil, and truth a mirage.
We drink but grief from fate's cups.
No wonder a coward drowns his sorrow,
A fool waves his hand, heeding his belly,
And a serf shifts his hut to the edge
But it befits the wise to cast away
All thoughts of their own futility and weakness.
Though the axe be small, it fells the mighty oak,
If diligence and fury be applied.
Life is war, inaction is suffering,
Do nothing -- and there shall be wrought upon you
Such punishments, intrigues, and villainies
That you will yearn for death with longing

Whoever hides from storms, let him be the first to perish
By the inglorious death of a coward and a fool.
But boundless shall be the happiness of the valiant
When they escape the wiles of the cunning,
The claws of betrayal that pierce the soul,
The vicious lies about the luminaries of the realm.
Remember your fathers' precepts!
The most terrible of vices is cowardice.
Betrayal is the worst of sins.

***
Worthy of praiseful words is he,
Who is ready both to strike and to fall!
Only that knight pleases me,
Who boldly on his steed
Strives to be the first to land
And to deliver many terrible blows,
And by his own fierce example
He pours the oil of blood into the forge of battle,
And a mountain of slain bodies rises,
Groaning in agony -- such is the knight's lot!
I love chaos and rivers of blood!
These are the delights of war!
My soul rejoices when
Countless shattered bones
Lie in a terrible heap of men and horses
Then a sweet feast for the eyes
At the sight of battle's sketches
When all eagerly rush into the thick of the fray
And do not stand aside like little rats.
Our first task here is to multiply our glory
And the second -- to give our lady delight.
And both of these endeavors are doomed
When we are poor in courage.

***
Many worthy maids and wives I have had occasion to see
My eye is sensitive to visible beauty
But too rarely has my mind been captivated
And my heart remained in silence

But here I see a lady close to the crown of elegance
Here all is beautiful and pleasing to the soul
Down to the mystery of crimson eyes that promise
Both ruin and delight everlasting

A stream of refined speech ready to outshine her
All other flowers of today's amusements
If only I could be so eloquent!
I would surely prove that I am right
Awarding the victory to Alcyre d'Arcrede

***
To the most worthy of women let praise
Be raised now by worthy vassals
May I be cursed if I lie
That fate has sent us no day more joyful

Years will pass, the right hand will weaken
Time will silver the hair
But remembering Deus's radiance
We shall remain forever young

Life will surely send us our killer
Unfulfilled dreams sting like a serpent
But the festivities, so dear to the heart
Were worth all the vicissitudes of existence

Let us celebrate then, and glorify fate
Let us taste the sparkling wine
It will do no harm, the soul is already drunk with rapture
From beholding Deus

***

Sir Ambrose Turbon