Part I
The Paladin returned one morning to a piece of dreadful news.
It was the kind of tidings that kept him from the pews.
For though a knight and champion, he was first a man of prayer;
but what he learned that morning almost caused his heart despair.
He did not go to the chapel, but straight to the King he went;
to learn from him the truth about the message he’d been sent.
“Alas, it’s true, what you heard.” said the King to the worthy knight.
“Put on your armor and get your sword, and be ready for a fight!”
“The Princess has been abducted by a knight with a magic sword.
He calls himself the Dark Knight, and she went of her own accord.
It was a subtle abduction, for she was lured like a child.
Beset with charms and magic, she was utterly beguiled.”
“He came to our court days ago while you were on your journey.
He said he came to participate in our annual knights tourney.
We welcomed him as fellow knight and invited him to stay.
We thought we’d found one just like us on that fateful day.”
“Tall and strong with armor that gleamed brightly like the sun;
A sword and lance of craftsmanship that was unequaled by anyone.
A harp he played to entertain, and his music was so soothing.
His speech was clever, his stories rich, and his wit was so amusing.”
“The Princess seemed so taken by the power of his song.
He played for her at dinner time and the next day all day long.
She sat and listened, mesmerized by the sweetness of each note.
He did not seem to mind at all the way she seemed to dote.”
“We were all so taken in by his power and magic charm.
Spellbound by his words and song, we did not see the harm.
The Princess suffered the worst of it and was utterly transfixed.
For in his music and sweet notes dark spells were evilly mixed.”
“We realized this when the music stopped and we came out of a trance.
But it was too late to stop the spell; for we had missed our chance.
He’d enchanted us all night long, deluding our perception.
Only a few with the purest hearts could see through his deception.”
“They said they watched his armor change from bright silver to sable.
But even though they saw this clearly to act they were not able.
His spell had left them motionless in body, but not in mind.
They gazed on sad and helplessly, as they witnessed his dark design.”
“They watched him draw a great black sword that flamed with unholy fire;
Reflecting the darkness in his soul and his foul desire.
He held his hand out to the Princess and commanded her to come.
She glided to him willingly and in silence as if now dumb.”
“The witnesses of purest heart who could see right through his guile;
Were horrified when she went to him with a twisted smile.
He led her to the courtyard and they mounted his dark steed.
He tilted his head, laughed mockingly, relishing his deed.”
“Now you my son,” said the King, “who loves the Princess so.”
You are clearly the chosen one and to her you now must go.
For you alone are capable, of fighting what’s unholy.
Of being able to resist evil and all that is so lowly.”
“For I know it’s you she loves, despite his wicked spell.
Guard your heart and hold this thought that I know you know so well.
A painful path lies ahead and you must face it through your love.
Strength you have but more strength you’ll need that will come from above.”
“A Paladin I may be, but this almost breaks my spirit!
When I heard she left willingly I did not want to hear it.
But now I will summon my holy mount and swear that you can trust us.
To pursue this Dark Knight with not revenge but to only deal out justice.”
“That is wise,” said the King, “To not succumb to the passion.
Of seeking vengeance or retribution in any type of fashion.
For your advantage and your power comes from your life of virtue.
If to this you have fealty to, he will not be able to hurt you.”
He drew his sword, raised it high, and swore to honor this quest
That he would succeed or die in the attempt at the King’s behest.
He went to the chapel and knelt down and prayed before the alter.
Asked for guidance and for strength and the ability not to falter.
He left the chapel, went outside, and summoned his white steed.
For this was a gift to Paladin knights whenever they were in need.
At his will his horse appeared in a blinding white flash.
Such is the power of a Paladin and he rode off in a dash.
Part II
His steed was sleek and powerful, and rode like it was racing.
Effortless and full of vigor, for long he kept that pacing.
All throughout the kingdom, summer was in full display,
Except the path the Dark Knight took that left a trail of decay.
He followed this trail for many days seeking to overtake.
All through the nights he galloped hard until the day would break.
Suddenly the landscape changed and he knew it was wizardry.
The land before him and all around was choked with misery.
He was now in his evil realm where dark power was reflected,
In this broken and wintery land the evil had infected.
A reflection of the Dark Knight’s soul was in this deadened land.
The Paladin became more resolved to free it from his hand.
He quickened his pace even though a sudden wind blew cold.
He came over a final hill and beheld the dark stronghold.
A black castle with four turrets and a wall and iron gate.
His heart burned with a sudden flame and his zeal would not abate.
He charged down the craggy hill like a vision of white fire.
The thought of his Princess trapped within raising his righteous ire.
As he got close arrows came but none could pierce his mail.
It was blessed and resisted their darts that flew in a great hail.
He came to the gate and raised his fist calling upon his power.
He uprooted the gate easily and it made the sentries cower.
“Away from me or you I’ll slay!” he cried out to the guards.
They fled before his unblazoned wrath their courage now in shards.
He rode on to the castle door and none of the guards contested.
They knew they were no match for him and would certainly be bested.
He blew his horn, a single note, and its power struck the door.
It came unhinged and blew backwards, shattering on the floor.
He drew his sword and rode inside and many fled before his face.
Some of stouter hearts engaged and wielded sword and mace.
He dismounted and faced them all with his sword and shield.
He warned them they were no match for him and told them all to yield.
“To slay thee I wish not to do so lay down your arms!” he cried.
If they had heeded his words these men would not all have died.
Instead they charged with weapon and shield and a battle call.
A flurry of thrusts and skillful strokes left them dead in the cold hall.
No wounds did the Paladin suffer, nor even his armor a single dent.
Rescuing the Princess from this place is where his will was bent.
His heart grew hot within his chest as he thought of her held captive.
But he knew that he must master himself and not be overreactive.
He saw ascending stairs of stone leading to the next level.
He was about to charge up them hard but then he saw the devil.
The Dark Knight appeared on these stairs face twisted in expression.
Ugly and contorted and eyes glaring with aggression.
“Where’s the Princess?” the Paladin cried advancing on the stair.
The Dark Knight grinned and drew his sword and told him to beware.
“I know who you are, Sir Pelendur, for you are famed throughout the land.
I drew you here on purpose, white knight, to kill you by my hand.”
“Geront Mons is my name and it should mean something to you.
For I am the man who slew your Bishop, on the alter I ran him through.”
The Paladin recalled this evil deed of utter blasphemy.
It took place nigh a year ago before morning Liturgy.
The King and knights gathered for worship on an Autumn morning.
But upon entering the holy Church their day turned to dark mourning.
The Bishop dead, King and knights, confronting this reality.
Grievous was this unholy deed, unspeakable tragedy.
“My purpose is to rid your land of all that is holy and right
The Bishop first and next I’ll slay the greatest holy Knight.
I lured you here through your Princess dear and surely you will deem.
In my castle, the heart of my realm, my power waxes supreme.”
Said Geront Mons to Sir Pelendur in manner most blasphemous.
Of all evil knights alive, he was the most infamous.
“You are a snake, a lowly worm,” said Sir Pelendur
“The time for talk is over now and your speech I will not endure.”
They both sprang forward aggressively and white clashed with black.
The ringing of their swords clanged loud from their brutal attack.
For the longest time they fought and neither man would yield.
Armor riven from their magic swords and dents in their great shields.
Then at last Sir Pelendur struck the Dark Knight’s sable helm.
The Dark Knight fell backwards nard, for the moment overwhelmed
Dropping his black sword in great pain, his vision suddenly blurred.
Desperately he clenched his fist, and uttered a conjuring word.
The Princess was suddenly in their midst due to the dark spell.
Expressionless with a vacant stare and her appearance was not well.
Her body was wounded everywhere, spanning from head to toe.
She glanced at both men, repeatedly confused to whom to go.
The Paladin cried out in pain, feeling a deep horror.
He raised his hand to pray a prayer so that he could restore her.
The Dark Knight then grabbed his sword for he had now recovered.
And sought to strike a blow of his own before he was discovered.
He aimed a thrust at the Paladin who seemed now to be distracted.
But the Paladin was all too aware and easily reacted.
They resumed their battle viciously, each with renewed fury.
But only one could win the day and walk away with glory.
What happened next was for a long time a great source of confusion.
But it wasn’t discovered until far from now due to a great delusion.
Geront Mons lay dead on the ground, the white sword through his breast.
Sir Pelendur too was wounded through and felt pain below his chest.
The Dark Knight’s sword was in his hand and no blood was on his blade.
Yet the Paladin was bleeding as if a wound it had made.
The Princess came out of her trance and ran to her Paladin.
Slowly he reached up to her and gently grasped her chin.
He prayed a prayer of healing and watched her many wounds heal.
But he could not do the same for himself despite his holy appeal.
Indeed this was a painful wound he knew not how he’d received.
A deep rent near his great rib cage and he was sorely grieved.
He did his best to staunch the wound and summoned his holy mount.
Together they both rode home and gave a full account,
Of the events in the castle and the Dark Knight’s demise;
But no matter what he did to his side no cure could he devise.
Part III
Great was the King’s celebration when both of them returned.
The Princess whole, the Dark Knight slain, but the King became concerned.
Dampening to the spirit of joy was what the Paladin revealed.
A fell wound in his side that simply could not be healed.
Other knights, prayers and healers could not make the wound close.
Every prayer and medicine they tried the wound would just oppose.
The head healer told the King they are very sorely in need.
To heal Sir Pelendur quickly so he will no longer continue to bleed.
The King gave his other knights an important and urgent mission.
To search all lands far and wide for the finest healer and physician.
During the time of this great quest and wound that was so sinister.
Pelendur would find a little relief only when she came to minister.
Each day the Princess would come and sit, and talk and sing in verse.
Her singing lifted him in spirit, but in body he grew worse.
The healers did the best they could and said they’d continue to try;
But told the King without a miracle that the Paladin was going to die.
The knights returned one by one with many foreign doctors.
Many different cures they tried under the watch of proctors.
But no matter what they did, all of it was to no avail.
The different medicines and the cures, all of them would fail.
The last knight to return from the quest had journeyed to the east.
With him came not a doctor, but an old and wizened Priest.
He claimed to be a healer with a healing ministry.
He said it was a gift of grace and of divinity.
The King grew hopeful at his words but the Priest offered a caution.
He said he’s performed miracles but it does not happen often.
“O king, the power is not mine for it is heaven sent.
But let us go know to your knight,” and he prayed as he went.
The Priest was led to the Paladin who lay upon his bed.
The Princess was in the room and gently stroking his head.
She looked up when the Priest came in and in her eyes were tears.
She said that she was broken-hearted and filled with tremendous fear.
She stood up to leave and said, “I will give you privacy.”
The Priest insisted that she stay and then spoke forcefully.
“I perceive that if he is healed you will be instrumental.
The fact that he responds only to you is not coincidental”
He then looked at Sir Pelendur and took the knight’s fevered hand.
“My son, you are the saintliest knight in the entire land.”
Said the Priest to the Paladin and then offered these strange words.
“I perceive your wound is not what it seems; to my thought this just occurred.”
“In truth you speak,” said the Knight. “For I will tell you this strange fact.
The evil weapon of the Dark Knight was thoroughly intact.
The sword that did this to me, upon it there was no stain.
It was clean and without my blood, though unholy and profane.”
Sir Pelendur then recounted the tale in all of its entirety.
And while he spoke the Princess seemed to have anxiety.
“Don’t worry my Princess dear,” said the Priest and listened with great intent.
The Priest paid attention to every word; all his thought bent.
When Sir Pelendur at last was done, the Priest closed both his eyes.
For a while he kept them shut but then opened and decried.
“I perceive that you will live tonight so I will go now, think and pray.
Something is very troubling to me but for now I will not say.”
He left at once and the Paladin said, “This Priest is very special.”
The Princess looked unconvinced, and in her thought she clearly wrestled,
She said, “There’s something about this Priest that I find very disturbing.”
Sir Pelendur then quickly replied, “I find nothing in him perturbing.”
“Rest now my Lord for in the morning I shall be sure to return.”
The Princess said to the Paladin and for that only did he yearn.
She then left for to her private room, deep within the keep.
He said a prayer and then drifted off, into a fevered sleep.
Meanwhile the Priest was deep in prayer in his humble quarters.
For faithful each and every day he was to his holy orders.
A knock on the door distracted him from his nightly prayer.
He opened but to his surprise, no one was standing there.
Then suddenly he sensed a presence and ducked just in time.
To avoid the swing of a blade that sought to commit this crime.
Before him stood one with a sword and long black hood and cloak.
Waving the blade wildly and getting ready for another stroke.
The Priest rose up tall and strong, and uttered a holy word.
The attacker shrieked and dropped the sword due to what he’d heard.
He turned and ran before the Priest who exuded a holy virtue.
Screaming in a hateful voice, “There will be a time when I can hurt you.”
The Priest stood silent and very still but filled with revelation.
Of the Paladin’s unhealing wound he now knew the causation.
No time to lose he left his chamber and returned to the Paladin.
Not surprised at all was he to find the Princess back therein.
“I am glad you are present too on this revealing night.
For the time has come for this mystery to be brought into the light.”
Tears welled up in the Princess’s eyes and a whimper escaped her lips.
The Paladin reached up and took her hand, and held it with a firm grip.
“Through prayer and much petition, the truth has been revealed.
Only the Princess’s strength of will has kept it long concealed.
I will now open your eyes and lift this unholy restriction,”
Said the Priest in a voice that rang strong with great conviction.
He made a sign of the cross and a prayer he began to intone.
The Princess pulled her hand away and suddenly started to groan.
She spasmed and the look on her face contortedly was changed.
Her eyes grew wide, her mouth grew taught, and she looked as if deranged.
Sir Pelendur’s fevered mind became suddenly filled with vision.
He now saw clearly from the heart and with great precision.
The battle scene came back to him, free from all illusion.
His mind now completely free from the enemy’s delusion.
In his mind’s eye he saw the truth of what had really transpired.
Right before the Dark Knight’s life in body had expired.
The enemy had cast a spell of powerful dark magic.
Riddled with hate and malice and its purpose was so tragic.
He knew he was about to be slain by the Paladin’s blade.
Through his heart was coming a thrust that he could not evade.
Quickly he cast a spell that caused deep forgetfulness.
While at the same time his dark soul entered into the Princess.
The Paladin drove home his blade and stood there in a swoon.
He did not see or recall that it was the Princess who caused his wound.
Body dead, soul alive, the Dark Knight used a cursed knife.
By the possessed Princess’s hand he sought the Paladin’s life.
His plan had been all along to make her slay her Knight.
For Sir Pelendur to die grievously with this as his last sight.
The cursed knife concealed expertly beneath her flowing gown.
He had planned to use her when he had the Paladin down.
But Sir Pelendur was a great warrior and he proved too strong.
Geront Mons’s plan was ruined and went so horribly wrong.
Even the stroke intended for the Paladin’s great heart,
Went astray due to her love, and fell short of the mark.
Though possessed she fought within and gained a measure of control.
Despite the Dark Knight’s devilry, she did possess her soul.
The evil blade pierced the Paladin’s ribs and then fell to the ground.
It vanished in a black vapor and did so without a sound.
The Priest stopped praying, the vision ceased, the Paladin horrified.
His beautiful Princess in torment, her soul in deep divide.
“You see my son, she’s possessed but her love has kept him at bay.”
Said the Priest but then he saw but she was no longer that way.
“I’ll kill you old man,” said the Princess in a voice that was not her own.
Geront Mons had emerged, his control of her had grown.
“For longs months I have fought within to complete her possession.
Her sickening love for the Knight overcome now by my aggression!”
Said Geront Mons from her mouth, his voice now plain to hear.
But neither the Priest nor the Paladin shrunk back with any fear.
“You have no place within her Dark Knight, her love will still yet win.”
Said the Priest in a calm voice confronting his evil sin.
“You fool, she’s mine and forever will be, this battle you two have lost.
You took my body and I took hers, for she now pays the cost.
Of what you did to me Paladin, the price of your decision.”
Geront Mons spewed from her lips this dark unholy derision
The Paladin rose from his bed and reached for his holy sword.
Weakened and with a bloodied hand he lifted it off the floor.
Turning the point to himself he spoke and offered the hilt.
“Take this my love and do you what you must and do not feel any guilt.”
“I offer myself to you freely as a healing sacrifice.
For this offer made in love will free you from his device.
I will not see you as a pawn in our holy and unholy war.
I will die and you will live and be as you were before.”
“No my son that is not the way, there will be no death here,”
Said the Priest and came forward to the Princess he was near.
“You have been afflicted my dear, but it is not your fault.
For you have been the victim of this enemy’s evil assault.”
“Despite the damage done to you that goes to levels deep.
You soul and will are your own forever yours to keep.
You simply have to make a choice for Pelendur or Geront Mons.
To choose to love and sacrifice or choose to be a pawn.”
“Only you can heal this man for his wound was of your making.
It reflects your soul torn in two, that’s why his heart is breaking.
No other person could wound him so but she who has his affection.
The cursed blade only by your hand could cause his deep infection.”
A sudden cry escaped her lips both wicked and riddled with grief.
The choice to make was hers alone, neither man could offer relief.
The seductive charm that once guiled her so, now spoke right to her soul.
As did the love of the Paladin that longed to make her whole.
For while she stood motionless, deep was the battle internal.
In silence both men looked on for time, the moment seemed eternal.
Tears ran down the Paladin’s face watching her in torment.
His strength at last had run out and he fell and lay there dormant.
Geront Mons raged within as the Princess gently knelt.
And touched the bleeding gaping wound just above the Paladin’s belt.
Immediately it closed up and he rose free from all harms.
And took the shaking princess gently into his strong arms.
The Dark Knight shrieked in agony as he came out of her.
A sulfur smell filled the room but was swallowed by holy myrrh.
Dissipated and gone for good, the Dark Knight ceased to be.
His essence now forever doomed to a black eternity.
The Princess and the Paladin were now at last both healed.
Their wounds forever a part of them but blessed and now sealed.
The celebration by the King was joyous from his throne.
A banquet was held, the feast of feasts, beneath the sun that shone.
Healers they now both became with the righteous Priest.
Wherever they went all were healed, people, land, and beast.
For the rest of their days evermore, they were always sought after.
Until it was their appointed time to go to the blessed hereafter.
Hand in hand they died far from now on a starry winter’s night.
Buried together in a single grave, a shrine still marks the sight.
Travelers come to this day, seeking restoration.
From these three saints now in heaven, in eternal celebration.