Carlisle Ladye

(part two of eight– lyrics (c) Loreena McKinnett)

Blithely they saw the rising sun
When he shone fair on Carlisle wall;
But they were sad ere day was done,
Though Love was still the lord of all.


The sun rose the next day and Sarabrandae watched from the wall as her knight came forth to find her. He wore no shinning metal, but she could see his face was strong and free. The dirty locks of his golden hair were as metal-like as she could have ever hoped. His horse bounced and clopped below him, swaying him in the morning’s strong breeze. A broad sword was bound at his side and displayed for all the world to see.

Sara let her long hair blow freely in the wind. Not even attempting to catch its dancing locks. She wore a dress of gold and white, ready to give herself the man her father had found. The smile she had borne the day before returned to her lips. She knew her father had chosen the perfect man and she would give herself freely into his hands.

Soon, the gates swung open and Sara waited as her father and brother greeting the mounted man. When they looked up to where she stood, Sara descended the stairs. Approaching the three men, she looked to her father for direction.

“This is she, Sir Irrgan, my daught’r, Sarabrandae.” her father motioned Sara to step towards the blond knight. Before she could glimpse his face better, the knight bowed low; his short hair blocking his face.

“Sir Arren Irrgan, my lady Sarabrandae.” The R’s rolled off his tongue. He showed his face again and Sara studied it; memorizing every scar and crease. She curtsied, bowing her head and letting her hair fall yet again.

“I am at ye’r service, Sir Arren.” When she raised her head once more they were both blushing. Sara’s father coughed lightly and turned their attention.

“Shall we break o’r fast this glorious morn’?” he asked, a smile dancing in his eyes. Sara nodded and waited for Sir Arren’s reply.

“Aye, lord Mithon. My journ’y’s made my stomach cry fer a good, strong meal.”

Sara father motioned for them to follow him. They crossed the stony courtyard; Sir Arren’s horse was taken by a stable servant and lead away to its own meal. With a glance at the rising sun, Sarabrandae followed the three men through the hall’s door.


~ by R.S.Sharkey on May 5, 2011.

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