View source for Two Love Notes from Queen Clytemnestra to Maros, Captain of the Guard

[[Category:Bardic Merit Awards]][[Category:2007 Bardics]]
By: Lormick
Posted on: January 29, 2007


In recent months I have returned to my homeland of Erymanthus, reforging old
connections, and making new ones. Though my heart draws me to the bountiful
woodlands, I have of late begun to frequent the city of Arcadia as well. While
there I have tried to offer my services to the good people of that city, and
particularly the royal family.

One task which has been set out for me time and time again -- and over which, I
must admit, I have felt some slight misgivings -- is acting as the Queen's
courier, a servant to the whims of her Royal Majesty Clytemnestra. Her
clandestine affair with the Captain of the Royal Guard is the worst-kept secret
in all of Arcadia.

For many months I held my curiosity in check, keeping the perfumed notes sealed
and delivering them in good faith to the Captain. Recently, however, I let
temptation overwhelm me. I present here, then, two of these notes -- a glimpse
into the creative mind of the good Queen. It is well known that her son, Prince
Dardaenus, is a skilled musician, but until I read these notes I did not realize
the Queen herself was an aspiring artist.

This is the first of the notes, given to me by the Queen when she seemed
consumed by a passionate spirit.

<nowiki>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</nowiki>


<nowiki>============
Sonnet XVIII
============</nowiki>


My dear, whose chiseled features make me weak<br>
And o'er-run good judgment I have still--<br>
Whose dimples flash and like an arrow, seek<br>
My heart to pierce with love that knows no fill.<br>

Thy silver wings invade my dreams in sleep,<br>
Their mem'ry drawing me toward new-found bliss:<br>
As tender, strong, you pull me in so deep,<br>
And as we dance on clouds, you take your kiss.<br>

O husband! Fool! Who'd rather books than flesh,<br>
I'll sate my thirst at younger springs than he;<br>
O Maros! Sweet! With tenderness still fresh,<br>
With joy I'll spread my bounty out for thee.<br>

Meet me, my love, at lady moon's first shine,<br>
At primrose dell be thou my joy, I thine.<br>

<nowiki>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</nowiki>

One month later the Queen's amorous spirit seemed to have cooled somewhat, and
the note I was given was in a rather more terse form, almost utilitarian in
nature.

<nowiki>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</nowiki>

your lips like saffron<br>
make the senses come alive<br>
as spring fills the air<br>

<nowiki>*</nowiki>

a harp sings the wind<br>
my bed sings of loneliness<br>
the tears are for love<br>

<nowiki>*</nowiki>

i dream of onyx<br>
birds tear at the children's flesh<br>
where is our captain?<br>

<nowiki>*</nowiki>

twice widowed the queen<br>
once to books, once to battle<br>
a heart left for dead.<br>


<nowiki>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</nowiki>


What her further missives may have been, I cannot say. I have spent a great
deal of time with King Iasius since I delivered my last letter, and I have
forged a comfortable sort of friendship with him -- although I fear senility
may be at long last taking its hold. I can no more help cuckold my dear friend
than I could deliver the dagger that would pierce his breast; and though he
feigned disinterest when I told him of the affair, I could see it eating at his
heart.

Let the Queen do what she must -- I am in no position to judge her, with the
mantle of a ruler thrust upon her at too tender an age, and her bed left to
cool by a man who would rather be scholar than husband. Yes, let her do what
she must, and I shall do what I must. She shall need a new delivery boy, and
they, not I, can share her latest love notes.