Dangerous Words

by Pedro de Alcazar

"This poem is based on real events, the Poet did indeed speak the dangerous words at a tournament in Storvik in May 1999 and Baron Ivan did put a price on his head. Later, in the autumn, the poet's lady, Devora, went before Baron Ivan and the Prince Stephan, to plead for mercy.  The Poet did attend that event in some of Lady Devora's spare garments. This poem was ordered to be made by Prince Stephan, and I am proud to present it now."

            Os Verbos Perigosos

                I sing of a man and his words,
                the revenge sought upon him,
                his deeds done in facing them,
                   the deeds done for him,
                out of chivalry and true love,
               and his sorrow in having spoken.


             It was May, the time of tournaments,
           all who would be brave came to Storvik.
              Pedro, a pursuivant, came to see.
                    Green was the meadow,
               bright were the warriors' helms.
                Men performed deeds of valor,
                   all beyond my tale.


                  After spears were broken,
               after bright helms were dented,
           Corun and Brenna, kindly lord and lady,
              ordered their seats brought forth,
                    and their court begun.
             Armor was doffed, and all sat down.

               Ivan, great baron of Stierbach,
             the land of men mighty as bullocks,
             was first to come before the court.
       Hrodbeorht, Storvik's herald, called him forth:
             "See and tremble, gentles all, Ivan!
                Lord of land mighty as bulls!"

                  Then Discord herself came,
             sat on Pedro's ear, bade him shout:
               "That's the baron of Stierbach,
                     and that's no bull!
              A titter arose as the crowd heard,
             but not from Ivan, who took it ill.

               "I of Stierbach, and I no bull?!
             Will words like that go unanswered?
        I call for revenge, I call for Pedro's head!"
        Stierbach's men strode forth, fell men faring,
          but Pedro fled, as Storvik stood staring.
           Terror, not Discord, sat upon him then.

               "Ay, Deus! Whatever prompted me?
                 Such wasteful words I said!"
                   cried Pedro as he fled.
               He hid in a thicket near a well,
             near the road that led back to town.
              He stayed until the sun went down.

            Along that road came the fair Devora,
           Samson's daughter, the beauty of Israel.
          Her maid, sweet Paula, riding at her side.
         Devora lifted her head to Heaven and sighed:
              "Ay, Senhor Dio, so brave a man!"
       "Mistress mine, who among the spears is thine?"

           "Paula, none among the spears did shine.
          It is Pedro, the herald, for whom I pine.
           His clarion voice, his two bright eyes.
         He fled as the buck before the hunter, ay!"
                  Thus said the Jewess fine.
             Paula thought a moment and replied:

                "Mistress, Pedro I know well.
                  When we lived in Portugal,
                 his father's land we tilled.
        After Nuno and Isidoro, Pedro is the third.
                His father a herald him made.
              For that is indeed a noble trade."

          "Paula, water we need. If a well you see,
              fill two beakers, for thee and me."
        Their camels plodded on, Paula the well espied
             where Pedro, in his fear, did hide.
                 "Mistress, now a well I see,
              I'll fetch water for thee and me!"

               Paula, light-footed, dismouted,
                made for the well with speed.
                Saw she then a curious sight:
               Pedro in bushes, a rabbit quite!
                  "Pedro, my lord's own son!
                  You're practically white!"

            Pedro jumped, a rabbit indeed, cried:
           "Paula, farmer's daughter, friend to me!
             Paula, see me, a countryman in need!"
                Paula smiled and said: "Pedro,
               countryman means nought to me."

              "But friend indeed were you to me.
         Join our camel-drivers, go with us to town.
           By nightfall to safety you'll be bound.
           My mistress, Devora, rose of Israel she,
             is all besotted with love for thee."
         Beakers filled, Paula went to Devora's side.

              As night fell, they came to town,
                To Samson the spicer's house.
             Packages piled of paprika and pepper
                 hid Pedro-Paula was clever!
                 Paula, with softer package,
               whispered: "Pedro, Paula here!"
             "Paula, friend indeed, what cheer?"
         "Good cheer-Stierbach came not here.
                   Now my plan I'll assay.
            All will go well if you do what I say.
                As Pedro you can't stay here,
           but as my cousin, the coast will be clear."

               "Your cousin? Impossible, I say!
         I am from grandees descended, not rustics!"
             "Consider, O Pedro, whom they seek.
            A herald, a man, yet doff that tabard,
                  hide that beard, act meek.
          An ancient hero did so, in time of need."

                  "Indeed, indeed-Achilles,
              who did his death foresee at Troy,
         did hide for a while with his mother's maids
                 until Ulysses found him out,
                     brought him to Troy,
                   sent him death and glory."

                  "You'll do it?" "I will."
             Paula laughed, brought forth these:
          Veil, gown, and pantaloons, Moorish stuffs,
         said: "Be now my cousin Fatima, who is mute.
        You will walk with me to Devora, I will say:'
       Protectress of the poor, help this poor mute!'"

            Grumbling, Pedro put on those clothes,
            ill they did beseem him. Paula laughs,
       leads him through a maze, scented with perfumes,
             until they arrive at Devora's rooms.
            Paula turns, looks at Pedro once more:
          "Say nothing as I speak, or all is lost!"

                Paula turned, opened the door.
            There sat Devora, the rose of Israel,
                working at thread and needle.
              "Paula, what is this?", she said.
               Paula, overwraught, distressed,
                      sighed and begged:

             "Sweet mistress, my cousin, Fatima,
              a mute, stands outside, destitute.
               She is humble, quiet, helpful."
            Devora, mindful of ancient laws, said:
       "Say no more, dear Paula. Charity is a virtue.
              Bring her in, and let me see her."

                 Paula turns, brings him in,
                Devora smiles, looks him over,
               "Look me in the eye.", said she.
            He blinks, looks up, and all is lost.
                     His heart flew out,
                 and to her heart is tossed.

                 "Ay, Deus, my heart is hers,
                I'll serve her well indeed.",
             says Pedro in the depths of his soul.
             Devora, likewise smitten full, asks:
                 "Will you serve me, Fatima?
             Pedro nods, and the deal is sealed.

              Time passed, and Pedro, as Fatima,
               dwelt in safety and in service.
               Silence suited his spirit well.
                Heart devoted in silent love,
                      he gifts her gave,
                   as if from Heaven above.

                  An example will tell all:
              Once, when Devora wished to spin,
            She calls for her spindle, but, alack!
                It was broken, some time back.
             She Paula calls: "Paula, come here.
            Buy a spindle, with this silver dear."

                   Paula takes the silver,
                  then headed for the door.
              Pedro signed for her to draw near,
             espied none other about, then said:
               "Paula, take my silver instead,
              buy a spindle, and see me first."

                She goes out, finds a spindle,
               returns to Pedro, who bids her:
            "Tell Devora that you saw her herald,
        and he gave you the spindle, keep her silver."
              He took the spindle up with care,
               wrapped it in a ribbon of paper.

                  Paula smiled, danced away,
             tripped happily into Devora's room.
           "I saw once more your herald, sad Pedro,
               he bought for you your spindle!"
           "O Paula, how is he, who lives in fear?"
             "He sent for you this message here."

         Devora unwrapped the thread, trembling read,
     "You have here the thread to my heart, Devora dear."
        "Ay, Senhor Dio! Pedro sends his heart to me!"
                    Weeps, swoons, falls.
       Pedro, as Fatima, rushes in, to bathe her brows,
            to rouse her, to hold her in his arms.

         Devora, awakens, supported by servant loyal
        beyond loyal, sighs, "Bless you, Fatima dear."
          Pedro, beyond bliss, lets her stand alone.
         "By his torments, far from hearth and home,
       my heart has been pained more than can be borne.
       I must rescue him, unite his heart with my own."

               Devora waned from love and care.
             Samson, mighty merchant, did beware.
        Doctors and rabbis he called, sages from afar,
              Not one could discern her malady,
            but Nostasia, her other chambermaid,
                routed the learned assemblage:

       "Old men, your hearts's fires have all gone out!
          The girl's in love, that's what's about!"
         Samson, perturbed: "Who has my rose's heart?
            "Master, it is Pedro, from Portugal."
                 "What matter of man is he?"
            "Ask Paula, Lusitanian, too, is she."

              Samson gathered from sweet Paula,
               of the Alcazars and their fame,
                how Vidas, first of the name,
                displayed his valor in melee,
                his reward, lands near Porto,
                his heirs, each one grandees.

             Pedro she detailed, youngest of all,
             who once lived in ways most courtly,
               now lived in fear most terribly.
              "An unfortunate youth," quoth she,
              Whose words do pain him greatly."
            Samson pulled his beard thoughtfully.

            "Yet anger is by soft words blighted,
               and with gifts is wrath quieted.
           Daughter, contact your Pedro, tell him:
         'If you apologize, gifts will Samson make.'
            I will give red heifers, slim and fair
             to the baron of the bulls so tall."

                     Devora wept for joy,
                  kissed her adoring father.
             He and the elders left the chamber,
              so that only the maids were there.
                "Paula, you alone can see him.
             Go to the forum daily and tell him."

               Paula and Pedro spoke in secret,
            decided that a week's delay would fit.
                  So, after a week sped by,
                Paula from the forum did fly.
          "O Mistress! I saw your beloved this day.
        He to start, to kiss your hands, did me pray."

               Devora wept to say, "What more?"
               "That at Stierbach will he be."
                  Devora to her father flew,
            and she and Paula told what they knew.
            "Stierbach is so far away," quoth he,
           "Accompanied by my friends you will be."

               "Which friends, O father dear?"
              "By Herveus, of Ormonde's fields,
               Pedro's fellow Iberian, Jaelle,
               who from Armida's towers hails,
             and Blaise, the rider of Cormeilles.
               Courteous one and all are they."

               "A lady must needs travel well,
           so Fatima, Nostasia, and Paula go also."
             Samson agreed, for he loved her too.
               As the dawn over Storvik spread,
            so did seven riders to Stierbach fare.
              Pedro, despite disguise, was pale.

           Thought he: "Ay Deus! To Stierbach go I!
             Clad as I am, I might as well die!"
              At Stierbach, land of the mighty,
        the seven did themselves an embassage declare.
          A sharp-eyed courtier led them into court,
         to Stierbach's baron and Atlantia's prince.

             Thought Pedro: "The prince as well!
               Now I hear my own death-knell!"
                  Devora, called into court,
                   motioned to her retinue.
                 She wept, she tore her veil,
          all manner of grieving beyond my telling.

          Dutifully, they followed, loudly wailing,
         Pedro especially, his doom to him appearing.
       Baron and prince saw the maiden, grew disturbed.
     "Who," growled Ivan, "dares this maiden to perturb!"
      Devora spoke: "O baron, you are the one you seek!
          Because my beloved Pedro must here sneak!"

       Asked Stephan: "Who is this man? What his deed?
           To anger Ivan one must be fell indeed!"
              Ivan, Stierbach's lord, glowered,
              then he spoke, voice not lowered:
            "His words were what put him in peril,
            if he is here, he'll be there still."

                   Devora was struck dumb,
                 as with grief she was numb.
              All their efforts seemed overcome.
               Then Herveus spoke just in time:
              "But words may by words be erased,
            and fair gifts foul wrath be effaced."

                Words and tears hit Ivan sore,
               Ivan raised his voice once more:
                "What gifts did Pedro bring?"
              Blaise forth the cattle did bring.
            "In Pedro's name, these heifers here,
               so he could live without fear."

            "For Stierbach, gifts of worth indeed!
             Heifers be better than any steed!",
          cried Ivan, "Now bring the rascal forth!"
        Asked Jaelle, "He's safe for now, of course?"
            "By my hand he is!", the prince swore,
           "He who strikes him now will pay sore!"

                 Ivan nodded, to give assent,
           and his sharp-eyed courtier forth went.
             Searching here, and searching there,
                Boroghul searched everywhere.
                Until Pedro's face he espied,
            beneath a silken veil did Pedro hide.

            His hand did grab, his hand did grasp,
              Pedro from Fatima's veil at last!
          "Pedro! Your time has come!", he laughed.
     "Pedro-Fatima? Fatima-Pedro?", Devora faintly asked.
        "I confess, I beg for mercy!", Pedro cringed.
                By guardsmen was Pedro ringed.

               Courtiers one and all did laugh,
               their reaction rocked the hall!
               Pedro, brought before the court,
           bowed low, fearing his head would fall.
              "Great baron, I here make apology,
                do now what you will with me."

               "The gifts, and Devora's tears,
            softened my heart, cease your fears.",
                 the baron declared. "But I,"
          quoth the prince, "will not let this lie.
                  To show your deep remorse,
        I a geas put upon you, to guide your course."

            "A geas, dread lord?", Pedro quavered.
          "Not one impossible," the prince declared,
                "but one of verse and judging:
          The first a poem praising and apologizing,
         of love and apology. The second, to umpire,
           a contest of puns-dangerous words dire!"

                 So it was, that fateful day,
             and now I, Pedro, this poem display.

Last modified November 30, 2002. Content suggestions to Lord Olivier de Bayonne