Chapter 1: Liber Primus

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Reads: 1791


The tragic tale of his most excellent & decorated master defender of the weak and meek Lumus Novus Lux Dominus



Dear and well-respected reader, I speak unto thee. If thou wert to be a good man or gentle lady. A curious boy or a sweet girl. A wise veteran of life. Perchance a traveler weary from a distant land. Take thine rest with me. I ask thee to let thy heavy load off your back. Come hither for I Athanasius Aegypticus welcome all. Please stay, lend me thine ears for I am to narrate, the story my author wrote for you to hear, the tale which I shall read. With your good permission I will take my lead.

Liber Primus

Muse of Knowledge, mistress of father time,
Take the words of my voice & make them Rhyme.
I prithee to tell me the tale of old,
 To sing me the song in lyre of gold.
Be my ink, guide my quill & write
The history of the most excellent knight.
His glorious & yet dishonorable life,
The way he fought against many strife.

 Loved by many kind, yet despaired by all.
His reach to greatness & his greatest fall.
The many treasures of his possession
& betrayal by his loyal obsession.
I pray unto thee immortal beauty,
Make my hand write & complete my duty.
Translate these scripts of old from rich kingdom
Emanating good & priceless wisdom.

Below a forever frozen tundra,
Covered in the thick eternal umbrae.
Bathed in the western sea salt breeze,
A Vast forest grows many kinds of trees;
Pines, Maples, Oakes & sad weeping willows
Along many other plants there grows.
By noon the colors change & the leaves turn
Ripe yellow or crimson red as if they burn.

They burn with the intensity of flames.
A single river flows & is called Thames.
But when the night is nigh, cold winds carry
Snow from the moon freezing the cold cherry.
At last when dawn arrives, the rays of warmth
Melts the ice & snow in that country up north.
Quenching the thirsty flowered bed.
The blue violet & the rose dressed of red.

This Land has but few neighbors; to the west
An island where Vikings once took their rest
& set sail to an uncharted sea.
To the East reside the people of Cree,
Dark is their complexion, tall their stature.
Striving in the grass plains for pasture.
A sweet ocean of five opening mouths
Is fed by the mountains of the cold south.

Hidden in valley bountiful by river.
The clear water shines like polished silver.
There lies a settlement of good people,
In boats they travel those crafty people.
Water quench the thirst of their crops & seed.
Which to their cattle the beaten grain feed.
By their labor that village is supplied
With fruits, honey, milk, meat & wine their high pride.

In time, the people travelled to trade
What they have grown, what they have they have made.
Many years passed & that small village grew
To become a city of rich view.
A palace of for the new Duke & Duchess was built.
Four Pillars of marble, stones of hue & gilt.

Soon it became as the Garden of Eden.
Its rich soil, the kind people & even
Natural springs that can cure any ill.
The place named New Corinth sat on a hill.
Among many nations resounded,
‘Paradise at last had been founded’
It is written of the account from where
Gold, mirth & frankincense were delivered there.

From the immense desserts of dry Libya
To the exotic lands of Namibia.
Caravans of perfumes, Jewells & spices.
Ivory & bones yield high prices.
From Hellas of Mediterranean seas.
Loads of olives, sardines, oils & sweet teas.
The old empires of the Middle East provide;
Fine tapestries wove & naturally dyed.

Florence the birth city of the Renaissance;
Paintings & sculptures of great renown sans
Comparison. From the land of the sun;
Silk, rice, fish paper & shamisen.
The mainland dynasties send artifacts
Never before seen, dancers & acrobats.
Princes of India visit leaving temples
Behind, decorated with flowered petals.

Every corner of the world pay tribute,
The isles of the sea also contribute.
Jungles of Amazonia the Alps of Incan
Nations give; Potatoes, wool, chiles, clay &
Majestic creatures & exotic beasts.
Abundance was ripe to organize feasts.
Their people eat to their content.
Many foreigners stayed to attend the great event.

Generation upon generation
Claimed the land of that nation,
Until the world was fixed upon that spot.
(Even though winters are cold & winters are hot)
Alas paradise had but a single fault.
After growing their wheat, Oats & Malt.
& Harvest was ripe, barbars attacked.
Their fields ravished, their mills ransacked.

Oh what a terrible misfortune befell
upon them! Heaven had turned into hell.
Robbed of their goods with cold winters ahead,
Many gathered to bury their dead.
To protect their meek & relieve their guilt
It was decreed to have a wall built.
Twenty-five meters high was, with fourteen
Towers of marble erected between.

To patrol the vast & untamed wild land.
Knights were summoned by the people’s high demand,
Along their pages arrived by the hundred.
Yet very few were chosen & funded.
The training was arduous & painful
But forevermore would it be gainful.
A life of immense riches and fame
Wert to be the reward alongside their dame.

A quarter of century in wars
New Corinth was engulfed yielding no scores.
On the tenth month of that year of quarrel.
A great storm shook the land & tore the Laurel.
Rain, thunder & lightning made the earth tremble,
The apocalypse did resemble.
Lo, Behold! The skies clear & the light returns.
The sun’s rays of light mighty its flames burns

“A miracle!” they exclaimed “Divine grace
Must have intervened, Gods soft embrace”
As the skies cleared, a flowered branch with
Petals of May (so it says the myth)
 Descended to the earth from high above.
Nobody could find a meaning of
The strange plant nor they knew what it meant,
Until an Astrologer learned of the event.

“Friends, Citizens & Common folk, it is
But a sign of relief, what truly is this?
A foretelling. The raven has cawed,
The storm ceased when the branch was sent from God.
So too our years of turmoil will know peace,
Our torment & agony will cease.
The third is but today at quarter
Past the third hour, both being my supporters.

I foretell the birth of a child, ordained
Into knighthood he must be trained.
When Libra aligns with Centaurus
& the constellation of small *corvus.*(Raven)
The year of the monkey shall be.
Celebrate new Corinth a time of glee
& merriment for a knight will save thee.
At last from sorrow thou shalt be free”

Twenty-five years transcurred & no boy
Was born when the constellations did employ
The birth of a hero or savior.
Five more years went by in harsh labor.
Production had to double to save enough
Grain. That year above any was tough.
Then oh then, a woman from the south brought
With her a boy & a girl she had bought.

They proceeded from a distant land
Of desserts, Oceans & snowy mountains.
An empire of pyramids & fountains.
A place that lies in the moons belly button.
Cutting wood, picking fruit or white cotton
Were their responsibilities to complete.
They worked from dawn to dusk on their feet.

In service the boy could have spent his life.
Grow old, find a girl & make her his wife.
Be a father of many children.
Labor twice his share & be injured in
The fields or turn ill & give his last breath
On his bed. The reaper would claim him death.
My dear reader we are no makers
Of our fate. I shall prove it on these papers.

One early morning of April, when the dew
Is fresh in the air to mark a new
Day. A boy lies asleep on his bed of straw.
He is awake! He will tell what he saw
In his dream it was to him but too real.
An old mystery he is to reveal.
I give my voice to this young boy
When he spoke to his madam with great joy.

“Mater*, bonus Mater, yesternight*(Mother)
I dreamt of glory & a blessed light.
May I share my dream with thee & tell me
 What its meaning could possibly be?”
She responds “Speak child, tell me more
& a meaning I will find in my store
Of divination & interpretation.
Thou hast but all my concentration.”

He springs forth wearing his sheets as a cape.
 Readying his voice he attempts to escape
The chores of the day. The child in jest
Desires to gain time & out best
The memory of a lady & play
If he could the entire day.

“In a large cathedral I stand before
A hundred people or many more.
Wearing a rob of finery
I walk to a pedestal of ivory.
In that place three warriors of legend
Greet me with reverence, as a friend
Does when encountering an old ally.
What they gave me I unto tee testify.

Thrice my age was I when he arrived.
Achilles the great legend revived!
He bid me to rise, so I abide.
His sword he unsheathes with honor & pride.
I extend my hands, he gently places it
On my palms. “Thou art worthy & fit
To wield Chiron’s ancient blade young knight.
Be loyal, be guile & walk in the light.

Achilles steps back as I with sword,
fur & crown my audience I turn. ‘Lord,
Master & exalted one!’ In a single
Voice they chant alongside the bells jingle.
Suddenly a black raven holding a palm
Reed on its beak brings back the calm.
It flies high above with a purple ribbon
Tied to his talon in the cathedral of Britain.”

Thus the boy concluded his rare dreams
Sans knowledge & still batheth in beams
Of innocence, he never thought how his
Life was to change from torment to bliss.

" Madam Latin poem of Rome, what say
Thee to my dream? Respond I do pray"
She bows her head, her gaze fixed on the floor.
Forgive me Lord for I opened the door
so abruptly I awoke thee from sleep.
This shall never repeat, my promise I keep"
She leaves the room with the boy confounded.
He naps until noon & awakes surrounded

By the Duke, Latin poem of Rome,
Knights, guards, the young princess of Canaan. Alone
No more is he in his chamber room.
Taken was he to the court palace (or so I assume)
Where a multitude kneel to his presence.
"Immersed was I in ignorance but in pleasance
I dwell to know I travelled with thee, Lord.
Excuse the dullness of my speech & brute word.

For Ignorance is far too rudimentary
For my Lords ears to hear & cherry
Color lips to pronounce in commoners
Tongue, peasants or vulgar foreigners"
Remarked the princess of Canaan, although
She was of no royalty her beauty did show.
Her spring of youth, an unblemished flower
With prickly thorns which grow larger by the hour.

"Child" Spoke the Duke, "Blessed be my kingdom &
Saved are my people. Lend me thine soft hand.
Let me kiss the sturdy weapon that is to become
the sword, snare, the flag & potent drum
Of this rich regnum of mine. I thank thee.
Thou small seed, shall grow to be a robust tree.
Henceforth our Master Knight Lucius thine magister
& instructor is, my future knight *sans inequaliter.

*(Without equal)(Unique)

Never a single second did he waste
Nor his feet would stand in travails but in haste.
The still tender youthful mind was forced to learn
Under the Latins poem's care (His spirit towards her yearn)
Substantial became his appreciation.
Then the boy's day would then begin with dictation.
From nine to ten, he transcribed the works of
Chaucer, Dante & Troye. Tales of courage & love.
Past the tenth hour to midafternoon.
His body exercised; running, climbing or swimming in a lagoon.

Wrestling, disc throwing or long jumping
Weight lifting with their echoing thumping
As he dropped them & his body resting.
Quarter past the high sun, his next subject
Were languages of past & present times. Object
Of fascination; French, Latin, Nahuatl & Greek.
Adding to his English & Spanish he dost speak.
But wait, what more could he learn or seek?

Philosophy from Socrates & Plato.
Theology responding always credo.
Mathematics, Astrology, History.
Literature, music & the mystery
Which is to understand a woman's will.
That last knowledge my mind I cannot fill.
Alas! No more of my struggles I pray,
Instead let us turn to the story I say.

Years overlapping & season upon season
Passing, he matures. Although void of reason
At the tender age of fourteen his vivacity
Is unleashed. He enrolls as page in a faculty.
He learns how to wield a sword, lance & bow.
The mace, falchion & axe. To feed the crow
The remnants of a dead man.
The castle to this day still proudly stands.

If thou wisheth to find it, walk aloof the pillars
Of iron & behold from those high mirrors.
Where the water runs that castle stands.
& from the day I write is much older than these lands.
Its amphitheater is engulfed in weeds.
Once tragic plays were the stage, now reeds
Feed on the rotting planks of wood. No more
Have they ever lived their glorious days of ore.

While trained in combat by master Lucius.
He oft' asked questions as Confucius.
Such were the matters of his spirit,
The youth answered as best of his merit.
"Whom dost thou serve excellent knight?"
"My lord" the boy replied. "The strong & mighty.
My God, my king, my Duke & thee master."
Still stayed Lucius, then he spoke; "My youth, good answer"

He taps the boys shoulder & in his ear
Whispers away. "Yet how good does it? I fear
It does not satisfy the hunger
Of my doubts. Since I was much younger
Than thine present, struck was I hesitant T
To even find a meaning & so arrogant
I became filled with confidence & skill
In a single blow a beast I could kill.

Those days of strength & youth they are gone.
Now upon thine horizon the good sun
Of life sets & a new dawn breaths new light.
Before thine eyes the road is laid good knight.
Stray not away from righteous path or despair
Thou shalt surely find." So, he spoke as in prayer.

"Master, how do I find the righteous
Path? In this world of hope I'm pious."
Asked the boy with a sincere soul & heart.
"I bid thee, follow the code, the good art.
Written by our forefathers in Brittany.
Upon stone is placed the code of chivalry.
They mark how a knight should act & avert,
Temptations & perversions thyself exert.

It is well written drink not the beer or wine.
they cloud thine senses & good thoughts, thine
Ally water is, drink it with ease.
Carnal desires thou must appease.
Chastity claim under holy band of
Matrimony, only must thou consummate thine love.
Declare devotion to thine only king
& place not the crown on any simple thing

Be obedient to your superiors
& deal with respect to those inferiors
To thee. Honor thine masters in glory.
Once gone retale their days & their story.
Protect the meek & those in need.
The naked cloth & the hungry feed.
Spare thine adversary when he is beaten.
Do this & thine compassion will be written."

If a grudge lives in thine heart, take
Thine blade & struck a thigh, it will hurt & ache
 But the pain will make thine mind forget.
Revenge is not an option to be met.
Forgive those whom hath wronged thee in the past
& once a month thou must fast.
Whom dost thou servest? In time you will know
& from within thine shell thou wilt grow."

As Aristoteles once schooled the great
Alexander, wisdom does equate
To Lucius & his *discipulus.*(Disciple)
The enlightened one forbears a *novus lux.*(New Light)
In a year worth of training & many thoughts
From Lucius marked breast with a cross.
& New Corinth’s defender of good cause.
All hail Lumus with great applause.

Liber Primus Finis




Submitted: January 06, 2018

© Copyright 2022 anonymous 1520. All rights reserved.


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