The Spouse this morning leaves her room t'explore
th'headquarters of their benefactor's crew,
but coming to a corner straight away
along the corridor of flick'ring lights
she stops, for she can overhear some talk
just out of line of sight with whisper'd hush,
which prompts her—with suspicions having grown
through yesterday and leading up to this—
to wait around the corner, straining ears
to hopefully decipher sisters' words: 10
"The plan's in motion," Author here relays.
(though as of present point she isn't yet
assigned as Scholar of the Prophet's tale).
"Our enemies have burn'd beneath the night
except Aristocrat who'll be the first
to join our ranks, thus offering his share
of power over populace in town,
as well as profit, which need not be said.
The foolish Pilgrim whom our Owner used
is also captur'd by the city guard 20
to burn upon a pyre, which at noon,
in give or take an hour from this time,
the peasants will prepare with righteous glee
to tie the man upon when comes the eve
in th'open square beside the dungeon down
within the slums for poor to come and watch,
and once his life is forfeit, also will
the nature of our Owner's ploy be lost,
securing Owner's hold without a fight
whilst city dwellers looking for a hand 30
to guide them through th'uncertain times they face—
or think they do when looking at the crime
last night she orchestrated to commence—
will turn to her without a second thought
and gladly stay oppress'd to think they're safe."
The Spouse's stomach drops at hearing this;
a trick was play'd and now her hero's life's
endanger'd by the fearful folk in town
upholding what they think is justice true
but's actu'lly a ribbon o'er their eyes. 40
The second sister starts to speak, and Spouse
begins to listen once again to them,
whilst noticing how similar her voice
doth seem to sound to Owner's, much alike:
"Nay, almost doth the information die
upon the pyre with the Pilgrim fool;
t'elaborate upon correction I've
provided I'll remind ye of the lass
he travell'd with on entering our base.
The Spouse is still a looser end than she 50
would like to leave untended, so I've been
commanded t'enter into th'room she stays
within to tie the final knot in this."
Her hands are shaking; slowly doth she back
away and slip into the room whilst they
still speak in muted tones of secrecy,
but also, for some reason, seem to sound
as apathetic, like there is no joy
in winning power at the cost our two
are being made to pay to further them. 60
She casts this thought aside for those that press
like fact that she's in danger imminent;
she goes to drawer beside the pillow she
did sleep upon the night before and draws—
by hilt emboss'd with tarnish'd crescent moon—
her hero's knife from it, which she did ask
to take from th'woman ask'd to see dispos'd
the garments Pilgrim shed when he prepar'd
to enter into th'water yesterday;
and with the blade securely in the waist 70
of th'undergarments worn beneath her dress,
she sneaks into the corridor and strains
to hear if still the pair are shooting breath,
and with a hurried pace at hearing them
now wrapping up their conversation's arc,
she tiptoes down the hall and out of sight—
around the corner—of her bedroom door
where now she implements a common gait—
though faster than what's usual—to look
not like she's sneaking to the passersby 80
who aren't, apparently, inform'd that she's
to be destroy'd as part of Owner's plan;
and so she slips into the entry hall
and asks the guard to open doors for her,
to which he acquiesces with a bow
farewelling with a friendly countenance.
But not before she's halfway to the gate
there comes a cry from him for her return:
"O Miss, I've been inform'd that you're to stay
until your friend returns, for there hath been 90
a grave mistake our Owner's taking care
of. Please I ask you stay indoors until
I'm given more intelligence on this."
The Spouse now bursts into a frantic sprint,
and only quickens when the guard exclaims
and armour clatters as he gives pursuit.
She swings the gate aside and rushes down
the winding path that separates the base
from th'rest of th'upper city's palaces;
behind she hears the armour'd guard request 100
the aid of city guards to apprehend
the Spouse, whom now he claims a fugitive
who help'd the arsonist they caught last night,
thus adding to the clatter and the shouts
behind the Spouse whose lungs begin to ache.
Descending down the slope into the pass
she presses forward to the crowded streets
which bustle with activity and stands
beneath a grand arcade of vaulted stone
for her to hide among within the throng; 110
she gently pushes through and ducks her head
attempting not to draw attention t'ward
th'escape she's almost made away from them
whilst now they draw their swords to split the crowd
apart in order that they'll navigate
more easily and spot her in the front
of one of these two sides they rend from it
because the middle theoretic'lly
creates the rows in front, and they do guess
correctly that the centre's where she hopes 120
to stay to most effectively obscure
her whereabouts from them; but seeing this
the Spouse—ahead of their progressing split—
now slithers through the crowd and out the side
into an alleyway where she resumes
a slower jog, conserving stamina
until she comes t'arrive within the slums,
where she can catch her breath and plot a scheme.
She takes the winding streets until she finds
the dungeon that the sisters mention'd in 130
their conversation, but the door is block'd
by guards; and after she surveys the scene
she draws the most effective path toward
the square they spoke about before she seeks
an armourer, and with the last of coin
contain'd within her purse—and haggling charm—
she purchases a crossbow with four bolts
and straps it to her back ere visiting
the stable wherein th'horse and mule are held,
withdrawing both and leading them toward 140
the path she mark'd between the square and jail,
where on a fence's corner she can tie
the beasts so they will cover her from sight
of guards who'll lead our Pilgrim to the square ,
behind their bodies whilst her legs as well
will hide behind the fence. And here she waits
for hours 'til vermilion coats the Sky
above the roofs, and she can hear the crowd
that's gather'd round the pyre that was built
by volunteers at noon, awaiting show 150
to entertain and punish all at once.
It's at this time a clatter echoes from
around the corner and she readies up,
preparing bolt and drawing back the string
and aiming under th'horse which first they'll pass;
the escort rounds the corner and betwixt
the halberds that they hold, protagonist
is chain'd from neck to wrists to ankles, bound
in collar, manacles and shackles tight.
The Spouse adjusts her sight to look across 160
the length of bolt and places finger on
the trigger, shaking with anxiety.
Her eyes begin to well and blur her sight
whilst lump is forming hard inside her throat
and teeth are clatt'ring twixt her parted lips
with cold and clammy sweat to slick her palms.
Her breath's uneven, coming in with gasps
and leaving her with quiet little sobs.
The guards are past the first of defilades,
so Spouse now turns to aim below the mule, 170
but though her mind is racing desp'rately
and knows this is her opportunity,
she drops the bow into her lap and cries
at how pathetic this attempt hath been
and watches through the haze that's in her eyes
as Pilgrim's brought to square to burn to death. 176