Twa Corbies
Bran hated having to go out into the field beside the woods all by himself. But since his father died, the tall, skinny youth was the man in the family and had to take over most of his fathers duties, had to care for Mother, the three little ones and auld Granny. In a fit of anger, he kicked at a lump of dried mud, but all it did was crumble, which only heightened his bad mood. He was only twelve, for heavens sake, how could he take care of a family? He wasn’t even sure if he could take care of himself yet…
As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t'other say,
'Where sall we gang and dine to-day?'
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t'other say,
'Where sall we gang and dine to-day?'
A ruckus to the side drew his attention. On the sad remains of an old, dead apple tree sat two big, black birds. Corbies, Crows. They cawed as if having a conversation. Bran stopped, feeling a strange kinship. After all, his own name meant “Raven” in the gaelic. With a gasp, he realized they were talking to each other…
They were hungry and looking for a meal…. One knew where to find it.
'In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.
Bran could not remember ever having seen a wall of turf, where the knight was supposed to be. He wanted to go and see if he could find out who the knight was, but it might be farther than he could go. Besides, he had chores to do and Mother would be madder than a stirred-up swarm of bees if he went off and forgetting again.
There was more to the story than just a corpse and a full belly for carrion-eaters….
'His hound is to the hunting gane,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's ta'en another mate,
So we may mak our dinner sweet.
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's ta'en another mate,
So we may mak our dinner sweet.
Anthony had decided to go hunting alone today. To be constantly surrounded by people, some days he could not take it. Uncle Calum’s constant reminders of what was expected of him, his mother’s nagging for a grandchild, his wife’s demands for more attention or costly trinkets or both...
He was old enough to wear a knights spurs and title, to carry the responsibility for them all and yet everyone treated him no better than a wee boy hanging on to his mothers apron strings. With a sigh, he stopped his horse, pulled the bonnet off the haws head and threw the bird in the air. He told Elaine he would be hunting and did not want to look a daftie coming home empty-handed…
Turning, he whistled the three dogs sniffing around the underbrush. Might as well look for that boar some of the peasants complained about ruining their crops. Would that not be a prize for their supper… When the dogs caught the scent of the beast, found it’s spoor, the young knight sent them off after their prey. He himself made his horse go down a path that was easier to follow.
He never knew where the men had come from, what they wanted and he most likely would never find out...
A small band of men attacked him, with swords drawn. Anthony fought hard, fear making it hard to grip the sword handle, because he was trembling so. Sweat ran down his brow and stung his eyes. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the fight. His arm got heavy and trembled more than ever with fear and exhaustion. Several small wounds stung and burned, soaking the light tunic with blood…
who wore armor when going hunting? Anthony did not but wished he was…
thrust, parry, deflect...
Another hit with the blade of the fiercest attacker made the steel vibrate so hard, he nearly lost his sword.
A bolt from a crossbow made its way from one of the men across the short distance to the young knight, slamming into his side, cutting the fight and Sir Anthony’s life short…
Elaine smiled, when she received the message delivered by a little, dirty messenger boy that must have run all the way. Then she picked up the satchel containing the last of her possessions she wanted to take and made her way downstairs and out the back door, where she knew a cart loaded with her dearest things waited along with her horse. And the very handsome and very, very rich Sir Randolph…
Bran made a face as the crows divided the poor sod up among themselves….. What a world. Being higher born did not save one from having to die and get eaten by worms and scavengers.
'Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pike out his bonny blue een;
Wi ae lock o his gowden hair
We'll, theek our nest when it grows bare.
And I'll pike out his bonny blue een;
Wi ae lock o his gowden hair
We'll, theek our nest when it grows bare.
Beginning his work, Bran wondered if anyone missed the knight.
'Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken where he is gane;
Oer his white banes, when they we bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair.'
But nane sall ken where he is gane;
Oer his white banes, when they we bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair.'
