The Bard's Crusade
The kings gave a challenge most worthy, in far off Holy Land,
The quest was to crusade for glory, each knight to pledge a stand,
The call came to nobles and gentry, each squire to polish a shield,
And the minstrel bard came singing,
Laughter like bells a ringing,
The lonely bard came playing, but nary a blade to wield.
He'd a plain trav'lers hood on his shoulder, a ruddy beard at his chin,
A cloak of simple rough homespun, and breeches of brown doe-skin,
Tied at the waste with no buckle: his shoes laced up to his thigh!
For music a harp he brandished,
Lyrics from nature called,
To playing as he wandered, under the laughing sky.
His leg had a cripple lop-sided, and blind in one eye was he,
But his voice was strong and lilting, with an honest heart born free,
But gallant knight could he never be, by King Richard's own command,
But dreamed he of chivalry,
Like every stalwart boy,
So hid he amongst the wagons, praying he not be found.
The ship set an anchor at fort Acre, in the land of Palestine,
The knights were clad in chain mail, and sharp weapons they did clean,
And the bard he sang a rousing song, and they cheered his mighty voice,
He laughed and bid away their fears,
Knowing that eyes held tears,
Singing as they rode along, he mixed with all by choice.
The Arabs swept to challenge fierce battle, on plains they claimed as home,
Long years sullied the knights' young hope, while Saracens fell to doom,
Jerusalem close - yet still to far, and spirit died as well,
But the bard kept close unto the king,
His voice in battle ring,
Arrow and spear fell short of mark as he braved the infidel.
Then war did cease at the Sultan's call, white flag upon the field,
His beloved son lay near to death, to Europe's plague to yield,
So pleaded he unto England's king, for medicine and balm,
But no knight dare provide support,
No compassion in their heart,
So the bard stood up to honor, his harp upon his arm.
He did limp across the place of death, a song upon his lip,
Life saving herbs within a pouch he did bear upon his hip,
The quiet hill was strewn about with fallen, brave youth from either side,
And the Sultan there awaiting,
In fear and pain a grieving,
The minstrel met with tearful eye, his own deep fear to hide.
There sadly was no common tongue, nor custom strong to share,
But a father's love holds common bond that faith and hope doth bare,
A song cried out from the bard's own heart and carried through the night,
The gathered hoards stood silent,
And heads in prayer were bent,
The ailing son heard all these notes, and fever broke by right.
At morn came a flurry of courage, and knights came upon the plain,
But the terrible army had vanished, ne'er to fight that hill again,
And the minstrel he was full singing, and safe by courage stand,
At his feet a suit of armor,
And grand raiment even more,
There was no knight in any land so richly clad or grand.
The cuirass was made of beaten gold, with edge of silver band,
The helm was of leather and iron, set with jewels by artist's hand,
The coif was inlaid with pearls and gems; the gauntlets were the same,
They fit him like a silken glove,
Right to wear from high above,
Kings bowed to this clear evidence and honors did acclaim.
The bard came a figure of valor throughout the Promised Land,
So he bore high both shield and harp, and sang out on sea and sand,
His voice was a banner of chivalry, to lead both weak and bold,
And the minstrel bard came singing,
Ever playing - ever laughing,
The golden bard came singing, with nary a sword to hold.
When knights come together in silence, soldiers in far off lands,
And comrades have fallen in battle, and life ebbs to hopeless ends,
They claim they can hear joyous singing, 'bout glorious days of yore,
They see a gold figure shining,
Ever singing, onward calling,
A noble knight to guide them, on through the golden door.
Aldebern of Acre
Order of Saint John of Jerusalem