~ by Elijah David

Spy two lads a-hawking past the pond;

Even now there’s a strange respect

For this foster-brother – a love beyond

The call of duty – no need for microscope to detect

It. The ward has no man’s expectations.

He’ll be dumb and squirely, most like.

But Kay, no Archimedes, sees more direct

And knows one day Arthur’s fate will strike.

Thus, Kay’s hopes reverse his worlds:

To serve this brother he loves and teases

When crown and sword are his. He whirls

His fate and prayers like a sling and eases

His father’s worry by training and taking Art

To squire, all the while knowing their roles

One day will reverse. Jealousy – that old horse-cart –

He knows not, unless it is of Merlin – tent pole

Of their youth – for the time he spends alone

With Arthur. Time stolen from Kay.

He spends hours drilling through his skull-bone

The facts and rites of his estate – mowing hay,

Keeping stock, stewarding wood and field.

His mind, so trained, will serve him well

As seneschal. But not, despite Ector’s zeal,

As esquire. Once too many did Kay’s helm ring, bell-

Like for him to take knighthood for any reason

But Arthur’s behest.