The Castle

There is a castle on the hill,

A king sat there in days of old.

His knights were brave, his ladies fair,

The pinnacle of brave and bold


Minstrels there were, and jesters sharp.

Ministers with wisdom deep.

Priests and monks in cloistered nooks,

All knowledge gathered in his keep


There was a knight, a lady fair,

A false man and a desperate fight,

A riven kingdom, empty hope,

A funeral pyre and fading light,


The story’s old and patched with songs

On threads that wore out long ago

Who knows the truth of treasure there

Before the final overthrow


Young lads go there to try their hand

Digging the vaults and dusty hall

The tombs are empty, nothing’s there

A bird’s nest in a broken wall.


Some nights, when Venus sails the sky

And Mars is courting near the moon

They say that ghostly dancers whirl

To echoes of an ancient tune


Splendour and crowns have tumbled down

The painted walls have faded pale

And while we bustle round our lives

Dust slowly settles on the tale. 

As I’m gearing up for the release of King’s Silver, I’m revisiting my previous dips into medieval fantasy. I wrote this a long while ago, but I thought it would be fun to share it again. It’s one of the favourite poems I’ve written.

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