The Fall of Melchior

The Fall of Melchior
Peter Andes

The bard danced with dulcimer
and plucked it with his thumb.
He entranced all with his words
and struck them quickly dumb.

“Harken to this fateful tale
of an ancient kingdom old.
See their wicked avarice,
their lust for more than gold.

Of pagan idol and sacrifice
you shall hear this night,
and those wise among you
may overlook mere delight.

The despairing deeds I tell,
of fatal consequence were,
their makers now partake in Hell,
fallen under the fatal lure.

In a most distant desert land
that dim time hath deemed,
there was throned a noble man,
pure of heart he seemed.

King Melchior was known afar
for his skill in battle and war.
He was a man of word and hand,
All wicked deeds he did abhor.

His kingdom fair as utopia,
his subjects did all rejoice;
land bounteous beyond desire,
he listened to every voice.

A king most wise was he,
Melchior the great they said:
they saw not the future bane
that murdered their bliss dead.

Upon the most ancient road,
three men in habits came to call.
They were received graciously,
asked to dine in Melchior’s hall.

They proved skilled company,
astute in mind and jest.
Clever tales they did sow,
and reaped great interest.

Their crop grew fast and well,
and soon they did harvest.
Melchior heard tell of this
and his interest did manifest.

Summoned to the chambers
of the mighty, benevolent King,
the men in habits respected
his power over man and thing.

In clever guise Flattery stood
while on throan Melchior sat;
enraptured by the travelers
as the bird does to the cat.

Their crimson pronged tongues
inside their mouths did not stay.
With eloquence they snared
and slayed Melchior that day.

With verbiage idyllic in his ear
they of life after life did speak,
declaring the King’s ways wrong,
his soul powerfully meek.

The clerics told of paradise,
the life awaiting the good,
and promised he would go there
once he knew what they understood.

Of a golden city of relentless joy,
a river of renewing life,
these wonders Melchior heard,
of the Kingdom with no strife.

‘But my kingdom is magnificent,
the noble Melchior cried,
my subjects lead a good life,
who are you to chide?’

They responded with dire words,
of consequences terrible:
if he did not worship their gods,
life after would be unbearable.

They spake to him hiding grin,
the wrath of the gods is mighty;
for if ye do not pay what is due
with anger they will smite ye.

Into the depths of fire and smoke
you will surely plunge,
as eternally in the gods’ torture,
all hope they will expunge.

You will suffer beyond words,
in utter and complete despair.
Heed our message now and change,
or forever feel pain beyond compare.’

‘Then tell me wise clerics from afar
what then I should do,
to ensure the best for my kingdom,
since good fortune has brought you?’

They told him of the idols,
wood, metal, fire, and stone,
and of what he must sacrifice,
with knife of human bone.

They told of the almighty power
that would keep his soul from harm,
and the signs of his enemies:
when to fear and raise alarm.

Of the future they did tell,
dark magic and incantation.
Word by word Melchior fell,
during their long relation.

He hung on each syllable like a pig
on a teet for the very first time.
And more he desired and craved,
as the drunkard does of wine.

When he had sucked and drunk
into the final hours of the night,
the clerics realized foul success:
in their claws they had him tight.

As the king crumbles and falls,
so goes the kingdom too.
Melchior was taken,
his subjects mindless ewe.

For the clerics made themselves
lieutenants of the King.
They ordered him in all matters,
and he did their sly bidding.

In the ways of their order,
they instructed his kingdom.
The idols were constructed,
sacrifice was to come.

‘Bring forth thy babes most young,
or thy afterdeath will be undone!’
This the clerics howled as wickedly,
they plucked the tiny eyes for fun.

Wails of the mothers were heard afar,
their grief haunted all the land.
‘Nay, dare not try to halt us,
stay thy foolish angered hand!

This action of cruel appearance
is decreed by the mighty gods.
Needed are new souls for power,
this deed will improve thy babes’ odds.

Wish for them meager life now,
or for eternal bliss in paradise?
Heed the commands of the gods,
who require much sacrifice.’

So the babes were quickly slaughtered,
skin wrenched from the bone.
A stillness fell over father and mother,
no crying, no babes, all alone.

Human blood festered on gargoyle
made of wood, iron, and stone.
Small babes murdered on orders
hissed from behind the throne.

Subjects obeyed their monarch,
they remained foolishly loyal:
for they believed the clerics too,
and awarded them much toil.

Labor night and day for the afterlife
on the promise of good standing;
butchered babes with stained knife,
their souls to the gods handing.

The word of the clerics was their law,
they followed their blind king.
All lusting for a happy afterdeath,
for more than this life they did sing.

Thirst for knowledge of the unknown,
quenched by the clerics’ elixir sweet.
Deceived with sly tongue, fast made dumb
suckling lies from Evil’s rank teet.

With knowledge blinded and fettered,
Melchior’s kingdom was.
Once fair and free now sick and slaved,
as to the wolfhound rabies does.

Then came the day of revolution,
to overthrow Melchior, King.
The clerics’ devices and cunning,
employed in bloody uprising.

‘Your poor King needs you most now
to save his sad and sordid soul,
sacrifice him to save him,
for his benefit his head will roll.

Repay his kind and happy rule,
with a kind and happy afterdeath.
You owe to him this service,
of his hard life he shall be bereft.’

The clerics formed the citizens,
to storm royal hall in frenzied mass.
The king hunched on throne wept the day,
he never forsaw would come to pass.

‘How slyly they did slither and creep,
my mind they hath undone.
Like hydra they spread their vile word,
lies of power to eclipse the sun.

Fiends cloaked in trickery of evil intent!
I curse the day they came this way,
and their deeds beyond all repent:
now my life is spent, death hellbent-nay!

I shall rally in this final hour
to deliver my fallen kingdom free.
I shall not cry but fight or die
to vanquish wicked tyranny.’

Melchior up took his sword and helm
to face the clerics three.
He swore to save his realm,
his people of evil knowledge free.

‘Death, death, remove his soul for good!’
from outside came the advancing cry.
‘We shall bath in his blood,
eat his flesh and crush his eyes!

The gods demand a sacrifice,
our king deserves the best.
The more bloodshed and gore,
the more blissful his own rest!’

Melchior the doors threw open,
the king in twilight stood.
Crimson rays of a dying sun,
stabbed at his noble hood.

‘Betrayal hath not met this,
his cousin more evil than any other.
Are my subjects so maddened,
to murder their own beloved brother?

Awaken from thy crazed stupor,
that this new knowledge hath done.
Awake! Arise to pierce this darkness
as in the fresh morn rises the sun.

Throw off thy chains of foolish belief,
I, once blinded, now see the clerics’ lies.
My people, I beg of you, heed me!
See with thine own eyes!’

The teeming murderous mass
fell reticent upon his word.
Stunned they seemed to be,
paused amidst bloody dirge.

And then from behind all,
wicked tongues were heard.
The clerics three began to speak,
the macabre caw of crow bird.

‘Foolish citizens in he you trust?
‘Twas Melchior who led you astray.
In his path eternal pain awaits,
waver not! True to the gods stay!

Your King hath failed your spirits,
serving only material desire.
Look no further than Melchior
to see a diabolical liar.

Hording gold and precious stone,
in his chambers greed incarnate lies.
His time has come to pay with bone,
and to put out his evil eyes.

The gods demand a sacrifice
a soul of vice on which to feed.
Melchior wants your souls tortured,
feed to the almighty his ghastly greed.’

So the bath of blood began again,
afore evening tide all were clean.
All skin stained with sweet sangria,
in moonlight a crimson sheen.

Melchior was finitely finished,
not existing on sea or land.
His reeking entrails for carrion,
his fingers wrenched from his hand.

The clerics’ end of iniquitous labor
fast approaching, soon to be done.
Only one more step to incite unrest,
soon their prize they shall have won.

The next morn the three clerics
went to woman and man.
Telling each that the other’s soul
was wanted by the gods’ demand.

The men planned after the feast,
to carry out the task at hand.
The women served them poison,
and with large leaves fanned.

Upon the last bite and sip,
unsheathed the swords became.
The menfolk laughed maniacally,
as they cut their women in twain.

The last women fell in silence,
save for her dying scream.
As the men collapsed in agony,
life ebbing in a painful stream.

The fading light left for good,
on the second fateful day.
The crimson clerics three stood,
In laughter respect they did pay.

‘Fools too easy to trick they were,
all so gullible and meek.
Now their honest gold have we,
their souls the devil can keep.’

They gathered up all gold near,
took all jewels of Melchior’s house.
With habits heavy returned to the road,
set all to flame which none could douse.

To another noble kingdom far,
they vanished ‘round road’s bend.
To wreck wisdom on other realms,
and to hell good souls send.

Of sage and clever word beware,
be not a meek and feeble pawn.”
The bard released them from his spell,
and with swish of his habit was gone.