~ by Elijah David
Spy two lads a-hawking past the pond;
Even now there’s a strange respect
For this foster-brother – a love beyond
The call of duty – no need for microscope to detect
It. The ward has no man’s expectations.
He’ll be dumb and squirely, most like.
But Kay, no Archimedes, sees more direct
And knows one day Arthur’s fate will strike.
Thus, Kay’s hopes reverse his worlds:
To serve this brother he loves and teases
When crown and sword are his. He whirls
His fate and prayers like a sling and eases
His father’s worry by training and taking Art
To squire, all the while knowing their roles
One day will reverse. Jealousy – that old horse-cart –
He knows not, unless it is of Merlin – tent pole
Of their youth – for the time he spends alone
With Arthur. Time stolen from Kay.
He spends hours drilling through his skull-bone
The facts and rites of his estate – mowing hay,
Keeping stock, stewarding wood and field.
His mind, so trained, will serve him well
As seneschal. But not, despite Ector’s zeal,
As esquire. Once too many did Kay’s helm ring, bell-
Like for him to take knighthood for any reason
But Arthur’s behest.