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Date Posted: 21:00:05 11/18/99 Thu
Author: Belamore
Subject: Belamore - Part I

Belamore

In feed sacks sewn into a cloak
by lady fair in waiting, a gift,
she pays me two pence too
to groom her palomino
after her morning ride.

She sighs, "Ah Belomore, my friend.
my lowly stable coach tender; when I am
queen I shall sew you a cloak of silk with golden threads and mend your
broken body."

"This jest you speak could cost your head,
my lady, should Lord Justin or the queen find out."

"A jest? Nay jest, my Belomore. A wood nymph was I once; now a nimble
court nymph I have become...and as Lord almighty Justin used me to grow
closer to the queen, I have played the king into my palm, then soon to
my feather bed-"

"Hush woman, the stalls have ears. I fear thy ambition."

"Not to fear. Lord Justin and the queen's head shall line the fruit
baskets long before mine. I shall see to that...But what of you. my
friend; will you spend your money on that street wench again?"

"Yes. I shall buy a song and she shall sing it twice."

"Why not save your money and buy her for the night?"

"No. I stay in the shadows and listen to her song. I could not bear to
see disgust fill her eyes, should she see my face and broken body. It
would tremble her lovely voice, or worse, I would frighten her and she
would run in terror. This I could not--"

"Belamore, Belamore, you are more silly than the king. You were a
soldier in his service and fell in honor under lace and sword and battle
ax. There is no shame in dragging your dead leg, or horror in the scars
upon thy gentle face, the patch adds dignity to thee, and any woman
would thy one strong arm than any two weak spindling ones, I'm certain."
She kissed my patch and touched my scars and wined a wicked wink. "Do
not you wish to get lucky, my little king of fools? Or is thine right
arm not the only member thou art missing?" Another hearty wink and she
danced off to keep her rendezvous with King Morticane in the queen's
garden.

"I do not look with lust---" I called after her but she did not hear
me. Lady Dolimite toys with lions and jackals and worse with a cobra
queen, thought and finished brushing the palomino.

Mel Travers

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