The day continues, Sky so crowded up
with greys that hide the sun behind their clouds
that ev'ry shadow cast across the light
erects our Pilgrim's hairs upon his neck
before he turns to see no one is there.
When most the tents are set except their own
our Pilgrim now suggests toward the Spouse:
"Perhaps thou wouldst prefer to sleep within
the walls of town tonight? As well, we could
try tracking down a sailor who could take 10
us past the sea to lands of farther North."
She hesitates to answer, but concludes
our Pilgrim is the only person she
can place at least an ounce of trust within,
for even though he hathn't answer'd yet
the question whether wishing leave or stay
with her, she knows at least he will not harm
her in her sleep as once it seem'd he might,
whilst she is not so certain anymore
performers can be held to standard same. 20
And so she nods her head, so whispering:
"We'll go discuss arrangements, but I'll have
ye know that should the animals return
and Tamer's capture come about whilst we're
in town, I'll still not want to leave this crew."
Our Pilgrim sneers, but nods acknowledgement,
and so they journey to the city by
the winding road that's carried them so far
and ask the city watch where may they find
a tavern where a sailor'd find a drink, 30
to which the guards on duty look them up
and down with stifled laughs before they give
directions to a tavern by the docks
where many sailors go when resting up
between their journeys over Middle Sea.
They thank the men—though neither are impress'd
by th'rudeness here display'd—and carry on
through more a rustic town than th'one before,
yet only slightly smaller than the one
that granted entrance to the mountain range, 40
which by and large was biggest of the South
they saw before they cross'd the Spine and found
these coastal cities, prosperous and grand.
As well, this city smells of better scents
than th'one of excrement before the Spine,
if only slightly, for it smells of fish
at least for better reasons, they assume.
And with this scent, our Pilgrim's once again
reminded of a past he hop'd forgot,
but soon he quells the thought, for he cannot, 50
he knows, converse with Spouse about what plagues
his mind and threatens to inflict its pain
upon his heart again with sorrow's grip.
The two arrive upon the docks and find
the tavern t'which the guards directed them;
they enter to a clamorous display
of gruffer men who're singing, swinging mugs
of beer from side to side and chugging deep
and wrestling arms and shouting raucously:
"When I was but a lad I met a lass 60
excoriated me for bein' crass
and who, I did retort, had too much sass,
to which she call'd me naught-producin' bum!
But passin' time's like washin' hands in gloves;
it makes no sense! And so we fell in love
and married on the Sea, blue skies above
to great vexation of her da and mum.
And now that she'd been made into me bride
she let me thrust me sabre twixt her thighs
and O, I tell ye, brings a man to life 70
with passion of a thousand coming suns!
But seven months were past ere babe was born,
which didn't match when in her cove I'd moor'd,
alertin' me I'd married to an whore
whose babe look'd like the neighbour'd had his fun!
So now I sit in taverns and I jibe
with other men who come to sit inside
with stories much the same whilst we imbibe
and laugh about our lives to kegs of rum!"
Upon conclusion of this tune profane 80
a fellow notices their entry to
th'establishment, approaching straight away
and shaking hands and burping as he sways
to say: "The two of ye don't look to be
from round these parts, or else ye'd likely stay
away from this establishment, as its
a place for sailors rather than yer lot,
but should ye think to stay and have a drink
ye'll find we're not so bad as ye may think."
Our Pilgrim huffs to clear his nostrils of 90
the stench erupting from the sailor's mouth
before he says, replying to the man:
"We thank the invitation to your bar
and no, in fact we're foreigners from lands
of deserts to the south, but no mistake
hath brought us here, for enter'd with intent
did we to find a sailor who would wish
to strike a bargain, letting both of us
aboard his ship when next he crosses sea."
To this the sailor nods his head and says: 100
"I have a ship the two of ye could board,
which launches in a month if ye can wait;
the price as well, I'll set at lower for
two kindly folk as ye. Eight hundred gold."
The blood now drains from Pilgrim's face toward
his stomach, and the Spouse is better none.
Upon this utterance a laugh erupts,
for at a table near the place they stand,
are sev'ral sailors list'ning in on this,
which now our Pilgrim thinks a travesty 110
of bus'ness and of generosity.
Our duo leaves—again their pride is hurt.
They try more taverns as the day proceeds,
but nowhere doth a deal come their way,
so now as night approaches do they walk,
returning to the gate where guards asleep
do snore; and here the two decide to spend
the night within the ditch beside the road
t'avoid returning to the carnival
where danger lies in wait for both of them, 120
and also to avoid the cost of inns,
for now they know their coin hath little worth.
It's as the night is passing by that our
Pariah, from this ditch, doth hear the sounds
of muttering and scuffing and of huffs
and puffs for breath. He lifts and peeks his head
out from this bed and finds a figure stands
upon the road and blows into a tube
in hand. Pariah climbs toward the road
and faces down the Tamer, now who notes 130
that he is not alone beneath the moon.
The Tamer coughs away his drawn-in breath
and says with tone that's friendly overly:
"My friend, what's brought ye here this finest night
instead of in your tent where you should be?"
Pariah scoffs at this fake amity.
"I'd ask the same of ye. You've ruin'd my
one opportunity to keep my word
to ev'ry entity I am oblig'd
by ruining th'rapport I built with those 140
who also do perform within our shows,
unless they somehow—with the Master's help—
decide you truly are the menace here,
and that the Spouse and I can keep our place
among the carnival, as I intend
to bring your beaten body to our boss
to make that judgment call against your will."
He cracks his knuckles, stepping forward here.
The Tamer takes a step away and lifts
his palms. "But wait! Thou don't yet know why I 150
am here, which seems a question on thy mind."
"And neither do I care to hear your breath
unless its heaving from collapsing lungs."
"The whistle, don't thou see?" He holds it up.
"I'm blowing into this to bring the beasts
I earlier releas'd returning here,
for once I bring these missing animals
in tow so nicely at my beck and call,
the Master's sure t'employ me in thy stead,
and then my life can once again resume 160
whilst thou as well, can travel on thy way,
though seemingly without thy lovely Spouse
who seems to like the circus and may stay
to play a part within this act of mine;
and likely more behind the curtain drawn."
"I'll not be part of anything thou run."
The Spouse's voice doth cause Pariah start
as she emerges out from in the ditch.
She brushes dust off from her dress and pulls
more tight her cord in hair, continuing: 170
"Disgusting imp, destroying what we held
for but a week. Thou couldst have learn'd a part
t'incorporate thyself again in th'act.
Instead thou hast decided trickery
so foul and stupid I cannot believe
at all thou carry passion for this life
thou hope to tear away from us at th'risk
of losing it for thee and th'other folk
with whom thou hast perform'd so many years."
The Tamer balls his fists and grinds his teeth 180
at th'woman cursing him for what he knows
is true within th'recesses of his heart.
"I'll not be made a fool by foreigners
so brown of skin they look to roll about
the dirt upon the morn on waking up,
or rather sleep in it the night before,
as looks to be the truth for both of ye.
You'll see proficiency that I possess
in taming any animal I meet,
including Master, once my plan hath work'd. 190
And listen, for I think my fruit hath grown;
cannot you hear the faint approaching storm
that marks success of mine and failure yours?"
Pariah strains his ears as thunder rolls
across the hills and rumbling in the ground
and growing louder by the seconds pass'd.
They turn to south and on th'horizon find
a storm of dust approaching fast the gate
along the road and o'er th'adjacent hills
with roars and squawks and screeches bellowing 200
from hundred animals approaching fast.
The Tamer runs along the road and blows
his silent whistle more and more with th'words:
"I told thee, yea I did, the power held
within mine hand once th'whistle had been carv'd,
and now you see exactly what I claim'd
is coming true, for I have tam'd the whole
menagerie by blowing out this tune."
Continuing to run he nears the pack
of feral beasts and stops to blow again 210
his hand held out to signal them to stop.
But still the animals approach the town,
and frantic'lly he blows again, again
with cries of "Stop," that drown within the noise
and arms that rise to guard himself as he's
devoured by the lions, trampled too
by th'elephants and pluck'd apart to bone
by vultures once the beasts have had their fill.
The animals continue on their charge,
and now Pariah and the Spouse are all 220
that stand betwixt the city—out of reach
for them to hide within or warn before—
and th'animals who cover such a span
as makes impossible manoeuvring round
the mass t'avoid a trampling just the same.
The Spouse's eyes are wide; she clutches him
to stand, for knees are shaking under her.
"My man, you have to stop the coming herd
however seems you manag'd tame them ere,
or else our journey ends upon the road 230
and many others also in the town
who don't possess the knowledge of these beasts
and how they hunt to properly escape
or fight them off without a heavy loss."
Pariah hears her words and though it hurts
to hear the distance twixt them, rolls his sleeve
up to his elbow ere he raises palm
above his head and chants to end the charge;
but likely th'animals cannot yet see
him standing here, and so they carry on 240
approaching closer, closer over th'hills
and down the winding road to beat of heart
now pounding in his chest anxiety
and rushing noise to holler in his ears
and breath that catches in his closing throat
and hairs that stand erect upon his flesh
and paralyzing surges up his spine;
for if this power granted him by blood
and herb should falter here, it marks the end.
And how would Luna judge this tragic fate? 250
They're drawing ever closer their stampede.
And what would Spouse believe about his love?
He closes eye; the volume rises still.
And what would Progeny have thought of him—
a father who could not in time of need
protect his fam'ly from a danger's strike;
a failure more than any else he was?
The mounting desperation in his chest
comes to a head as with a blinding flash
the night is lit for but a moment's time 260
as though the moon is close enough to reach
and slide upon her face one's fingertips
as though to scoop her silver ether's glow,
and when the flash subsides and eyes adjust
again to Luna's distant light above,
Pariah watches as the animals—
now halted only sev'ral yards away—
go up in smould'ring ashes, drifting off
on zephyrs blowing through the rolling hills.
Pariah drops upon his knees at this 270
display occurring by his very hand;
this final squander'd chance for both his vows
to come together copacetic'lly.
These beasts whose innocence he understood,
whose amorality was not a sin;
they drift away on specks of stolen life
as flesh and organs, bones and souls and hearts
disintegrate before his mourning gaze. 278