Jus Primae Noctis

(In medieval times, the right of the

Lord of the Manor to spend the first night

with a peasant's bride).

 

John and Jayne at the altar stood,

To put up their wedding banns,

In the Church at Haversham, Holy Cross

On Sir Robert de Courcy's lands,

When a clatter of hooves on the cobblestones

Brought dread to the open door,

As the Lord of the Manor came striding in

And planted his feet on the floor.

 

He looked at the two with a great disdain,

His hand on his scabbard sword,

His knights stood silent across the nave,

Not one would utter a word.

His voice rang out in that hallowed place

As Jayne cowered down, distress'd,

'I come to claim the Lord's First Right

By the power jus primae noctis.'

 

He strolled so arrogant down the aisle,

Of the Hereford Village Kirk,

Then drew his sword with a wicked smile,

With the tip of it, lifted her skirt,

'Her legs are fine, I can tell you that,'

He said to John with a sneer,

But John had averted his eyes to the floor

As his eyes were beginning to tear.

 

De Courcy turned, and he walked away

Up the aisle to the Norman doors,

Then turned at last with a final command

That would end their short discourse,

'You'll place yourself at my mercy, then,

And leave your husband denied,

You'll make your way to the castle gate

On the night that the knot is tied!'

 

John had cursed as they rode away,

The priest was more reserved,

'You should think it an honour, young man,' he said,

That your bride will be well served.

With luck, you may get a blue-blood son,

And honours will come his way,

Sir Robert has twenty or more in the town

That are blessed in the usual way.'

 

Jayne knew, of course, it would come to this,

She had seen with her sister Jone,

Carried away to the castle gate,

And weep all the way back home.

She'd watched her belly grow big with child

While her man had cursed and sworn,

'Til the day she lay on a bale of hay

As the child arrived, still-born.

 

Meanwhile, in Bristol, came a ship

That had sailed from Gascony,

Dropping a sickening sailor there

With its wines and its armoury,

The sailor staggered up streets outside,

And fell in the tavern door,

Infected all that were drinking there,

As the pestilence came ashore.

 

It spread at the rate of a raging fire

That nothing could halt or douse,

The abscesses in the armpits made

Their way from house to house,

The plague ran on through the countryside

And arrived at Haversham,

On the day of the wedding of John and Jayne

Though they didn't know it then.

 

There was just one victim on that day,

A woman who stayed at home,

She watched as her flesh grew puffy, as

The boils grew down below,

She sent a note to her sister, said

'I'll not be there at the feast,

But I have a gift I'll give to you,

It's the least I can do... the least!'

 

That evening, out by the castle gate

A woman was led inside,

De Courcy sat in the dark, and watched

As she knelt by the Lord's bedside,

She knelt in shadows, and then she wept

And he watched as she disrobed,

Then stood quite naked beside his bed

For the lord to touch and probe.

 

He pulled her onto the bed and grasped her

Close to his body there,

And then she laughed, it was not the laugh

Of a bride caught in despair,

The moon shone bright through the chamber then

And he shrank from the woman's moan,

She was covered in blood and pustules, said:

'Not Jayne - but her sister Jone!'

 

He screamed for his knights, who pulled her off,

Then spilt her blood on the floor,

Cut off her head, then shrank in dread

At the sight of her festering sores,

The plague ran right through the castle then,

Spared not one knight or horse,

While John and Jayne in the forest lay

'Til the plague had run its course.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Valentine]

David, a pretty sneaky ending Mate!!!! I love the way you write..it enthralls me until the ending as I do not know if you will come up with something logical or something witty, or in this case..the sister of the bride..A well written and very interesting tale my friend,,Merry Christmas to you and Lyn..Do not eat too much..love Kathie

[Merlot]

Well Sir Robert certainly got his just desserts and a bit more than he bargained for. Hope John and Jayne lived happily ever after.

[Lena M. P.]

I love how you blend history with folk lore. I hope the priest also got his in the end too. Privilege indeed! Well penned.

[Mark]

If there is a recurring theme within your work, it is that the devil always gets his due! I had seen Sean Connery's movie, "First Knight", so was acquainted with the practice, but you add new levels of color, personalizing the practice, and show it in all it's self-indulgent splendour...Pretty much the by-word of middle-ages royalty, I think: "self-indulgent". Very nicely done, my friend, and the ending was quite fitting...

[Holly]

I loved it, I think your writing is improving as well.

[Ferg]

i love it!! sorry, but that Lord got his due that day! excellent writing once again!

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

You never disappoint with your enrapturing narrative poems. You capture the reader from beginning to end, with tales that ring of historic truth, with a tantalizing twist at the end that is unexpected but wonderfully fulfilling.

Linda Marie