Cader Rook

In the form of an Elizabethan Romance, popular in the middle ages. (Pron. Carder-Rook)

Part I

 

Bodril rode by Cader Rook

His harness glinting in the gorse

And every step that Stäelwind took

Brought lather to the weary horse.

 

The sun was barely up, the wind

Had quickened by the Faery Ring

While, halted at the river’s course,

In shadow, lay the kyrkogrim.

 

The lord of Cader Rook had stood

The night upon his turret tall,

Had paced impatient in his hood,

His footsteps echoed in the hall.

 

And through the hours, no children slept,

The men sat silent in the gloom,

The horses neighed, the women wept

Like convent sisters at the tomb.

 

All night his vigil Morgram kept

To wait for Bodril at the dawn,

When Bodril from his horse had leapt

To blow three blasts upon his horn.

 

And as the first blast rent the air

Lord Morgram raised his eye in hope,

But when the second followed fair

His head he shrouded with his cope.

 

And when the third rang out its tale

Lord Morgram looked to fall a-swoon,

Then loudly beat upon his mail

And staggered, weeping, to his room.

 

The men an angry mutter made

Then donned the mail, and belted sword

But touched the holy kirsten blade

And whispered vengeance to their lord.

 

The women crossed themselves for fear

Then hid their babes beneath the skirt

But tugged the harness, kissed the spear

And prayed their lady lay unhurt.

 

*          *          *

 

Last eve, before the moon was nigh

While Lady Mabb was at her play,

A shadow caught her maidens’ eye

Who cried aloud in their dismay.

 

A dog, its coat the blackest hue

Had stood upon the chamber floor,

But shadows took the hound from view

And they played gently, as before.

 

‘Twas pithy warning,’ quoth a maid

Who sat aside the revelry,

‘A grim is seen, a death is played

While you disport with minstrelsy.’

 

‘But hush, you play with fear, my child,’

The Lady Mabb, with slight dispraise

Had sought to stem, with temper mild

The creeping fear that marr’d her days.

 

For as a child, the Lady Mabb

Had fallen deep between the thorns

And they would tear, and they would stab,

Enchant her there until the morn.

 

And while she thus enchanted lay

A Faery King had kissed her feet

And said: ‘You shall return the day

When once the graveyard dog you meet!’

 

‘The kyrkogrim is black as night

With eyes like burning coals of hell,

The hound will dim your chamber light

And then will ring the steeple bell.’

 

‘For on this day, a Faery bride

You will be wed to me, I wis,

King Murfinne may be not denied

Or death will fill your palaces.’

 

‘A plague will starve you at the cup

And men will fall, to pray for death

When each is blinded at his sup

And seeks in vain to catch his breath.’

 

‘And all your maids shall wrinkled be

To dry and wither at the pap,

If you should not return to me

When once the hound has sought your lap.’

 

The Lady Mabb was sore afraid

But looked not at the eyes from hell

In hopes that fears had been mislaid,

But then she heard the steeple bell.

 

The chamber light was sudden dimm’d

A shadow crossed the chamber floor,

The maids had screamed, their eyes red-rimm’d

And blood was on the chamber door.

 

And blood was spotted all about

In streaks and pools it glistened red,

Lord Morgram in his fear cried out:

‘My Christ - but is my lady dead?’

 

Then he remembered how she’d told

Before they wed, of King Murfinne,

And he had laughed, and answered bold

That spectres worked their will in vain.

 

But now the eve had come, the grounds

Of Cader Rook were scoured by all,

And even ancient burial mounds

Were sought, to trace my lady’s fall.

 

But not a sight of her was seen

Nor any marks to tell her flight,

While dark spread o’er the sward of green

And Cader Rook sank into night.

 

 

            *          *          *

 

 

The lord had summoned Bodril then

For he had magicked in his day

And knew, ‘twas said, of faery men

Their haunts, their tricks, their wiles and way.

 

To Bodril it was charged that he

Should hunt the moon, and listen well

That by the dawn, if she were free

Then should he turn, his news to tell.

 

And if the Lady Mabb were free

And well, a single note suffice,

But if her death was his to see

Then he must blow his music twice.

 

And if the Lady Mabb should be

Sequestered in the Faery Dell,

Beyond the help of sword or fee

The horn a thrice would serve to tell.

 

And that is why a single blast

Had raised Lord Morgram's eye in hope

And when a second followed fast

His head he'd shrouded with his cope.

 

And when a third had told its tale

To chill the dying of the moon,

The lord had beat upon his mail,

And looked that he would fall a-swoon.

 

Part  II

 

The Lady Mabb had drawn a breath

When once she heard the steeple bell,

And thought to kneel, and pray for death

But stayed, enchanted by the spell.

 

Her maids, suspended in a dream

Were caught and still'd by sorcery,

For them, all time did stop and seem

A moment sped in mystery.

 

And in the court of Cader Rook

The men were stood, as still as stone

Lord Morgram stayed before his book

To leave the Lady Mabb alone.

 

Then at the gate, a trumpet blast

Announced the entry of a king,

And in there rode a noble host

From far beyond the Faery Ring.

 

The horses white, stepp’d high and proud

Arrayed in finest livery

While ladies chattered, light and loud

Their beauty fair, exceedingly.

 

Each gown was of the finest silk

And gossamer bewreath’d the hair,

While belts begemm’d, and skins of milk

Would bring a prince to wonder there.

 

The lords, with many a noble cry

Delighted in their chivalry

And pages danced, and by and by

The minstrels played their minstrelsy.

 

But at the midst this merrie throng

There rode a man of stately mien

Whose carriage was both straight and strong,

A sight no mortal man had seen.

 

The brow was broad, beyond dispute,

The lips full sensual, but grim,

The mouth was wide and dissolute

And lines of cruelty crept in

 

About the eyes, which, set apart

Were knowing in the ways of guile,

Yet not a hint would give a start

About that mouth to scarce a smile.

 

Old sin and long unchecked caprice

Had soured this king of Faery Lore

And cloying pleasures brought surfeit,

Satiety its own reward!

 

These many dances of the Faye

King Murfinne brooded on his want,

The one unsullied lady lay

Beyond his sceptred governance.

 

The River Raad, both deep and wide

Did long protect her from his spell

But on this summer, as it dried

Milady heard the steeple bell.

 

And as the bell had rung the air

The host had trooped the river bed

To claim the Lady Mabb’s despair

And summon those beyond the dead.

 

For far behind this host of hell

The walking dead had followed then,

Enslaved by magick’s deathless spell

They’d wandered from the world of men.

 

And misery was at their eye

And hopelessness in their refrain,

For ‘Give us death’ was in their cry

But every cry was utter’d vain.

 

The Faeries lived their long delight

While these, their captives, toiled instead

The women spun the thread at night

And wept, until their fingers bled.

 

And now, in thrall to Faery arts

They seized milady at the door

For magick dulled compassion’s darts

As blood bespattered walls and floor.

 

And every time their fingers wrung

At this, milady’s sore distress

The blood would weep from those who spun

To mark in red their helplessness.

 

And to milady’s bitter moan

They each returned a moan in vain,

For as the Lady Mabb was bound

So each was bound, in faery chain.

 

What wild delight the faeries showed

At Mabb’s enchantment and despair,

How laughed the lords at beauty bowed

Their chivalry unspent for her.

 

But Murfinne made no sign of joy

No smile would crease his distant cheek

She was his prize, his abject toy

And he would take e’er she would seek.

 

A loud, triumphant blast was blown

To speed these faeries, and their train

But none had heard the lady’s moan

And silence ruled in her domain.

 

The still enchantment lasted on

As Lady Mabb was taken thence

Her steed, a milk-white faery roan -

She gave one piteous backward glance

 

And all her tears caught at her eye

And all her love was in that look,

While Morgram in his spell did lie

And sadness came to Cader-Rook.

 

 

*          *          *

 

Of all the knights in Morgram’s court

The swiftest now was sent in need,

Sir Dyrbenmere left off his sport

To scour the shores of Brittany.

 

For long before King Arthur’s day

With Merlin but a ‘prentice schooled

The great magician Blaise held sway

And Breton Kings and country ruled.

 

And it was told that Blaise was still

Sequestered on that rocky shore

Though ancient now, yet through his will

He magick’d, as he'd once before.

 

And if there was a mortal man

Or mage, magician, druid, seer

That could undo a Faye enchant

This Blaise possessed the conjury.

 

For long before, the Lady Mabb

Had warned Lord Morgram of this day

How every man would meet mishap

If they should war upon the Faye.

 

Of how the cup and sup would blind

The mothers wither at the pap,

Of how the magick spell would bind them

Once the hound had sought her lap.

 

‘The only cure for sorcery

Is sorcery, to turn the spell;

Wilt sware thou use no mastery,’

She begged, so he had swared him well.

 

But this had not despaired his men

Some few had followed, hot in blood

And fallen where the river’d ran

But choked with dust, and not with mud.

 

For not a breath there could they breathe

Before they fell to grace the earth,

To leave companions more to grieve

That death fell in the midst of dearth.

 

And then no man would drain his cup

No mother feed her starveling child,

For all there was no bite nor sup

But torment when the children cried.

 

Sir Dyrbenmere took haste to speed

And sought the Bretons’ ragged coast

To call his master’s desperate need

And cry him, whom he needed most.

 

At hidden caves and rocky dens

The name of Blaise was chaunted forth

But all the silence of the fens

Would echo, was the water-course.

 

The water-course, that babbled brook

Faint rippled in some Faery speech,

It babbled, babbled: ‘Cader Rook -

Are even you beyond my reach?’

 

Sir Dyrbenmere, in bleak despair

Replied, as if, his quest in vain

Held failed to find the mage’s lair

When someone, softly, spoke his name.

 

‘Sir Dyrbenmere, you persevere

On this, your errand to these shores;

What would you speak, or seek of me,

What aid would end this quest of yours?’

 

The ancient mage, in flowing robe

Revealed himself beside a pond

His grey hair in the warm breeze flowed

And in his hand, a willow-wand.

 

‘A Faery spell has laid us low

Our brightest jewel they have took,

My people starve, or wither slow

In what is left of Cader Rook.’

 

And so he told the tale to him

And begged the mage his counter-spell:

‘They saw the dreaded Kyrkogrim,

And then was heard the steeple bell.’

 

The mage his gloom could not dispel:

‘That realm I long have held in fear,

But I recall the fond farewell

I made with Lady Guinevere.’

 

‘So for her holy memory

And for the sake of Arthur, King,

I’ll grant you generosity

And open wide the faery ring.’

 

‘But you must do as I command

Or evil shall befall us all,

And blights and plagues will strike the land

As into misery we fall.’

 

‘You shall have a single hour

In which to make your lady free,

To break King Murfinne’s awe-full power

That he and his enchanted be.’

 

‘Once the spell be set to run

It never may be stayed again,

For while the earth wheels round the sun

The seeds of this will still remain.’

 

‘I’ve known of Murfinne’s evil court

A thousand years,’ then quoth the mage:

‘His clan rank poison; long I’ve sought

To end him and his wilful rage!’

 

‘Now dawns the hour,’ the old man cried

Then seemed to shimmer by the brook,

Sir Dyrbenmere had looked aside

To find the walls of Cader Rook.

 

 

Part III

 

Beyond the Raad, beyond the fen

King Murfinne led his captive queen,

A mist dispersed the world of men

Before the Faery Ring was seen.

 

The heralds blew some magic note

The sward began to part and shift

While columns reared, as if by rote

And marble steps were seen to lift.

 

And as the troop approached, a hall

Bedrench’d with gold and amethyst

Soared vauntingly, as one and all

They drove beyond the faery mist.

 

Deep, deep into the depths they rode

By drapes of velvet, precious stones,

And deeper in the earth they trode

By cages, strewn with mortal bones.

 

Each cage was wrought in beaten gold

Each dismal charge was chain’d within,

Each attitude, grim torture told

And spiders on the bones did spin.

 

Then deeper, where the living lay

Each chained, despondent, in his cage

The still enchantment of the Faye

Could not dispel milady’s rage.

 

For here a face she’d known in youth

And there, a visage long in loss

Enchantment burst in tears of truth

While Lady Mabb enragèd was.

 

Sir Garth, his greying locks spill’d forth

To mock the prison of his age,

Had wept to see the faeries sport

With one he’d last seen as a babe.

 

This twenty years a-gone, Sir Garth

Had thought to falcon at the fen,

But left a silent hall and hearth;

He never rode to home again.

 

And here Mathonwy of the Cross,

And there young Brynn, the pretty page ,

Held gone to court sweet Meg of Ross

But caught instead a golden cage.

 

Barlek the huge, of hurling fame

Would no more bellow at the green,

The Faye had bound his mighty frame

With threads so slight they’d ne’er be seen.

 

And on the grim procession led

While Lady Mabb had raged withal:

‘My lord, know I would fain be dead

Than live as your appointed trull.’

 

At last the king his chambers made

More rich and fine than all before,

The troop dispersed then, as he bade

To leave these two alone once more.

 

‘I made a vow to make you Queen

And now that vow will honoured be,

And you will act as would beseem;

You will bequeath your all to me.’

 

‘My petty king, of carnal arts

Who taketh by his selfish will,

I may be took by greater force

But not by choice - nor never will.’

 

‘I hold you in no dread, my lord,

For death would come a blessed relief,

So come now, put me to the sword

You changeling rogue, you patient thief.’

 

‘Be still, damned wench, I'll seal your tongue,

I have my appetite to fill,

My minstrels long this day have sung

And I do mean to have my will.’

 

‘And if, perchance, you should persist

To thwart my will, my single lust,

Your Cader Rook will pay, Iwis,

And yours the guilt, for what thou dost.’

 

‘There’s not a man in Cader Rook

Would stand to see me so defamed

But what their lives would offer up

To save their lady from such shame.’

 

‘Pray, do your worst you evil troll

My lord will trip your canker’d spell,

And there will be no grief, no dole

When Morgram tolls at Murfinne’s knell.’

 

‘Desist,’ the king had screamed in rage

And threw my lady to the floor,

Before he called a trembling page

And strode in anger through the door.

 

 

*          *          *

 

The page was but a sprightly elf

And feared to see the lady’s hurt

But quiet sat, as she herself

And nothing said, his eyes avert.

 

But when my lady’s weep was wept

Her tears all run their forward course

She turned to where his pity kept

And from dismay a smile did force.

 

‘I know a Faery Knight, my queen

Whose wish be with you in this strait

And fain would help, if he’d be seen

To show you to the Faery Gate.’

 

‘But if the king should guess his wont

My lord would suffer famously,

So I must seek your covenant

To not deceive his sympathy.’

 

‘Go thank your lord, I beg his aid

And give my compact, word and deed

No kindness could be so betrayed

For I am dealt by infamy.’

 

‘And tell your lord that he may dwell

In honour’s place at Cader Rook,

When once we shatter Murfinne’s spell

And free each soul that he has took.’

 

‘Proud words, my lady, spake with grace,’

A voice replied beyond the wall,

As now appeared a noble Faye

Who strode to where they sat, withal.

 

‘My name is Sir Agaricale,

I would that you would honour me

For long I’ve sought to flee the spell

Of Murfinne’s evil artistry.’

 

‘My mother was a Faery Queen

Seduced by some mere mortal lord,

But all the half of life I’ve seen

Has been within this Faery world.’

 

‘And now I long to leave this place

Of empty pleasures and despair,

To joust the lance and tempt the mace

And courage where the mortals dare.’

 

‘For I delight in deeds of men

Of virtue, honour, chivalry,

Not buried ‘neath this stagnant fen

Nor lulled by sounds of minstrelsy.’

 

‘But speed we must, if we would win

Our freedom from the tyrant’s leash,

The preparations soon begin

To stage King Murfinne’s wedding feast.’

 

‘What would you then,’ my lady cried

‘That I should do toward this plan,

If you’d with desperation side

Then I must dare as best I can.’

 

‘I have the secret key to reach

The lock,’ he said, ‘of every cage,

For I the Faery chains must breach

While you shall venture with the page

 

Through secret doors, unto the hall

Where golden columns grace the roof,

And there must seek the guardians tall

To tempt them with this magick loaf.’

 

‘If once they taste this bitter bread

They’ll fall, bedevilled, in some trance

And when they wake, we’ll long have fled

Beyond King Murfinne’s countenance.’

 

‘I’ll venture it,’ the lady cried

Her eyes a-shine, like pools ablaze,

And so he parted from her side,

Was lost again to her fair gaze.

 

 

Part IV

 

Sir Dyrbenmere rode to the court

To find each man in disarray,

He heard of what the river taught

To gentle Apps, and old Debrai.

 

‘Each man is parched, the women weep,

The children faint for sustenance,’

Lord Morgram told him at the keep:

‘And I, of woeful countenance!’

 

Sir Dyrbenmere a chalice fine

Took from his robe and showed it there,

‘Twas wrought of silver, fit for wine

And curious runes inscribèd were.

 

He filled it from the brimming stream

And pressed it to Lord Morgram’s lip

‘The wizard Blaise saw fit to deem

That each from this should take one sip.’

 

‘For every man and every maid

And every child at Cader-Rook

One sip sees this enchantment laid

If every man will kiss the cup.’

 

Lord Morgram sipped and kissed the cup

And then his eyes, they seemed to clear:

‘By all the gods - I’ve seen enough

Let each man drink from Dyrbenmere.’

 

So every man and every maid

And every child then sought his turn

And when the spell was clearly laid

Each man, his anger set to burn.

 

‘Now listen well - the wizard Blaise

Has charged me that we pay him heed,

For he has worked enchanted ways

To set us from our present need.’

 

‘But every man must do his part

As he is told, and nothing more,

Or else be blighted at the heart

As Murfinne will be, evermore.’

 

Each man agreed, and donned the mail,

But left the sword upon the wall,

Then waited for the wind to wail

The sun to set, a star to fall.

 

‘When each of these has been fulfilled

Then may we cross the River Raad;

Then will the choking dust be stilled

For those who ride without the sword.’

 

The sun came down, the wind did wail

And Bodril saw a falling star,

And cried: ‘Tis time, it is his will,

Thus Blaise protects us from afar.’

 

With ‘Blaise’ their vaunted battle cry

They came upon the river bed,

The dust had settled, by and by,

They followed now, where Morgram led.

 

And soon the Faery mist came down

To try and tempt their steps astray

But Dyrbenmere knew well the ground

And led them safely to the Faye.

 

The moon lit well the Faery Ring

Though it lay shuttered to the sky

Till Dyrbenmere began to sing

And raised a willow-wand on high.

 

And he began a magick chaunt

In words and sounds unknown to men

Repeated there, the Faye to taunt

As lightning forked across the fen.

 

Then came a movement of the sward

As ghostly pillars crept on high,

So crossed himself, the noble lord

At this, the work of grammarye.

 

A marble staircase led within

And all was gold and glittered stones:

‘Let no man take a single gem

Lest he be cursèd as these bones.’

 

They went in silence, not a sound

Was heard as they trode ever deep,

But then, was laid about the ground

The guardians in some magick sleep.

 

Then ‘Lord’ was heard, ‘My love’ said she

The Lady Mabb was at his feet,

Lord Morgram caught his love to him

And ne’er a kiss was kissed so sweet.

 

But deep within the passage dim

Some desperate men made desperate fight

And then appeared the visage grim

Of Garth, that fearless, noble knight.

 

And followed on behind was Brynn,

Mathonwy, Barlek at the wall,

Unarmed against the Faery King

And overmastered, set to fall.

 

Each man of Morgram’s little band

Had listened well to Dyrbenmere,

And cut a slender willow-wand

To stay them from discomfit here.

 

At last they joined the fray, to spell

Each Faery with the magick wood,

At every touch, a Faery fell

Entranced, enchanted where he stood.

 

Not one was spared, they sought them out

And magick’d every man and maid

Until at last, Lord Morgram sought

The chamber where the King was laid.

 

‘Your spell may never hold,’ the King

Had shouted at the willow-wood,

‘I shall return some way, and think

Of some despair for Cader Rook!’

 

But touched, he fell entranced, and lay

Caught deep within the mage’s spell,

And none was left among the Faye

As Morgram turned to leave the hall.

 

The Lady Mabb had wept to see

One Faery who had caught the spell,

By some mistake the wand had touched

And magick’d Sir Agaricale.

 

‘Our time is short, we had one hour

To do this deed and check disgrace,

We’ve overmastered Murfinne’s power

Now let us leave this evil place.’

 

They left the Faery Kingdom then

Its deeps as silent as the tomb,

And would rejoin the world of men

But stood to watch, as in the gloom

 

The pillars seemed to crack and sway

The steps fell, hidden in the night

And all at once came on decay

To sink at length, down, out of sight.

 

And so they came to Cader Rook

Whose steeple bell began to peel,

And so ‘tis written in this book

And so ‘tis given by my seal

 

That ever on, Lord Morgram lay

Enchanted with his lady fair,

But not by workings of the Faye

But by his lady’s love and care.

 

*          *          * 

 

A year and but a day had passed

When Morgram saw the Faery ring

And what had sprouted there at last

Bethought him of the Faery King.

 

For all about the sward there grew

Tight clutches of a Faery seed

And then so surely Morgram knew

That Murfinne had returned indeed.

 

For poison may not be contained

No matter what the spell may be

And good will out, now this was plain

As side by side there, could he see

 

That mushrooms were Agaricale

Whose noble heart grew fair and sweet,

But toadstools were King Murfinne’s spell

And these no man may ever eat.

 

And so, to praise the living Lord

Whose wisdom graces every nook

I offer up my tale, and call

His blessings down on Cader Rook.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Marie]

I am glad you explained. I do indeed think of fairies as innocent, magical little creatures (and have written about one) was shocked to see how evil these fairies were. This is a wonderful story, and was nicely finished by the verse about the mushrooms.

[TL Boehm]

fairies are evil. This was a riveting tale, friend.

[EMF]

David...this is exceptional. A wonderful story, dealt with in a marvelous style. Indeed I became lost in your story telling and forgot the fact it was a poem. And as a story it was aterrific telling. A perfect tale for a Tuesday morn. Thank you

[Amila Jay]

Wow. its quite a write. some parts of this poem reminded me of the poem Lady of Shallot by Lord Alfred Tennyson. Amazing poem :))

[Emerald Seas]

Such a fascinating story! I am in awe of your skill at crafting such a tale within this form. Always admiring your work, and this devilishly crafted tale is another wonderful read.

[David Lewis Paget]

Cader Rook is an Elizabethan style tale of the land of Faery, and reflects the literary conventions of the Mediaeval Romance. This is a work of imagination for those who like to lose themselves in a more idealistic world than the one we inhabit. (As a matter of interest, to the Elizabethans Faeries were not the little creatures that lived in the flowerbed at the bottom of the garden, but full-sized people who were endowed with magical gifts, and were invariably evil).