The 2012 Collected Works of Robert W Cely

By Robert Cely

Enter the imaginative world of Robert W Cely in this 2012 anthology of short stories. Constantly updated throughout the year with new additions, there is always something to hold the reader's interest.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bard and Book
• Release date: Jan 6, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465785886

Book preview

The 2012 Collected Works of Robert W. Cely

By Robert W. Cely

Smashwords Edition

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Read more from Robert W. Cely at www.bardandbook.com

Website: www.bardandbook.com

Copyright Robert Cely 2012. All Rights Reserved

Published by Bard and Book Publishing.

Cover by Julius Broqueza.

Table of Contents

How Bard and Book Publishing's Collected Works Anthologies Work:

Tale of the Twelve Part I- Sir Boromir’s Tale

Sir Boromir's Tale

Tale of the Twelve Part II - Sir Ronceval's Tale

Regan’s Story

Roland’s Story

Richard’s Story

The Lonely Levite

How Goatherd Became a Title of Honor Among the People of Rudon

Searching for the Edge of the World, Poetry Part I

1The Watcher

I Heard the Devil Laugh Tonight

Carmina

What Happened to this Beauty

A Day at the Office

Litany 1

Men of Ash and Dust

Spirit of the Age

The Godless One

Dorian Had a Dream

Searching for a King

Riders of the Dawn

How Bard and Book Publishing's Collected Works Anthologies Work:

Bard and Book Publishing offers authors' short stories for free to reader-subscribers. Each time an author releases a new completed work, this anthology is updated to reflect the new content. Content can include short stories, poems, plays, or full length novels. To obtain an updated edition, you merely need to go back to the original Smashword's page, and provided you have already purchased the work, Smashwords will allow you to re-download the new version. This applies even if you have 'purchased' the book via coupons issued only to Bard and Book reader-subscribers. For more information visit: http://www.bardandbook.com.

Tale of the Twelve Part I- Sir Boromir’s Tale

There was once a good king who ruled over a vast and mighty kingdom. Though his reign was just, there was one province that was always quarrelsome and rebellious. Rebellion would breed robbery, and robbery, brigandage. Chaos would erupt across this unlucky place. Barbarians from strange lands flooded over the borders and burned the poor farmer's fields. Bandits looted towns and laid siege to castles. Dark and fierce creatures crept out of the forest to prey on the sons of man. Sorcerers and witches, bred of foul magic and dark deeds rose up to terrorize the land. In all the happy kingdom this one province bred despair.

The king would send a champion to this place, and order would be restored for a while. Then the people would fall to their grumbling again and good government dissolved into bitter anarchy. The champion would be killed or chased away. When the people grew tired of war and death, the king would send another champion, only to see him chased off or killed like the others. Soon it became too much for any one champion to control and the land was left to fester in lawlessness.

Now this king had a son, a noble and virtuous prince, who asked that he might go and subdue the troublesome land. The king saw this plan to be good and sent his son to rout all evil from that province.

The prince first built his castle, and from there rode out, high and low, far and wide, through forest and desert and swamp, up mountains and through caves, to search out the bravest, most virtuous knights he could find. When he found them, he summoned them to his castle, and there they gathered for a feast.

One by one they entered the grand hall, greeted by their prince with a kiss. There was Sir Justin, Son of Thunder, a dark and brooding knight, named so not only for the dark clouds on his face, but also for the speed and power with which he struck his enemies down. Sir Rodrig the pure, never wavering from temptation or swerving from virtue. Sir Borimir of the Furrows, a kind and gentle knight who never passed over the cause of the needy. There was Sir Edward the Lion, brave and ferocious in battle. Sir Galen the Great, excelling in all the virtues of chivalry. Sir Androlocus the Slayer, deadly and bold. Sir Simeon the Rock, never relenting, never retreating, brave unto the very end. Sir Timaeus the Wise, giving sound council and wisdom. Sir Gregory the Just, a warrior for the oppressed and downtrodden. Sir Timothy the Bold, courageous in the face of any and all danger. Sir Ranceval the Wild, a knight of unmatched ferocity. And finally, Sir Justus the Shrewd, a master of planning and strategy, one who always knows the high ground.

All these knights, the bravest of the realm, gathered at the Prince's castle as he had commanded. They were treated to a feast in the hall, given a full share of all they desired. When the feast was done the Prince rose and addressed the knights like this:

"My dear knights, chosen friends, I send you out into a troubled and perilous land. Remember, you ride out in my name, and I have been sent by the will of the King. So when you act, you do so on the King's behalf.

"You will be beset with all sorts of danger and evil. All around you will be enemies. When you sleep they will come after you, when you rise they will lurk in the shadows of dawn. When you ride out they will follow your every step. But do not be afraid, for you fight in the name of the King, and for all that is good and right. Your courage will not fail you, even in the dark of night, even though they imprison you and cast you into chains, even though they seek your very life.

"There will be those who welcome you, who love you. They will open the gates of their cities to you and the doors of their houses. They will feed you and shelter you from the storm that rages near and afar. It is for them that you fight, for they are the true subjects of the King.

"I give each of you a medallion, my very own sign, so that all will know that you come in my name. Here, I give you armor and arms: a shield, a breastplate, a helmet, two swords. One you shall bear openly, the other you shall hide. Let none but your squire know you have it. I give you a stallion and a full purse. You must find your own squires. Choose a man of virtue and courage.

"For one year you will ride. Search out evil and destroy it. Combat injustice and wickedness. Be true to your Lord and the vow of chivalry you made when you took up the way of the warrior. Be kind, gentle, unwavering and courageous. Be chaste this next year, commit yourself only to the cause I have given you.

"Subdue the land in my name. If ever you are in trouble, call out to the spirit of chivalry and courage and you will find relief. Return here in one year's time, and we will gather around this table and recount our deeds to one another, good or ill, fair or foul, we will hold nothing back.

Go now, in the name of the King! I send you out as conquerors. You are my sword and my judgement!

With their Prince's blessing the knights rode out from the castle, each in a different direction. For one year they traveled the land, in search of adventure, to combat evil, to take up the cause of the lowly and oppressed, and to spread the glory of the King and his prince all over the vast province.

One year later the knights rode back to the castle. Their armor was dented and beaten, swords bitten from use. They were saddle-sore and weary, bearing scars of many battles. They rode in atop lean and tired horses, though faithfully carried by the noble animals. Each knight returned with a squire who trotted beside his new master.

As the tired knights seated themselves at the Prince's banquet, greeted by their sovereign with a kiss, they noticed two of their number were missing. Two empty chairs stood where Sir Galen and Sir Ronceval were meant to be seated. Behind Sir Ronceval's chair stood a squire who waited in obedient silence.

Where is your knight? the Prince asked. Where is our beloved Sir Ronceval?

My knight has fallen, Lord, the young man said as he wept. He bid me with his last breath to carry his story here so that his deeds might be recounted as his Prince commanded.

You were right to do so, said the Prince. Take your seat with the other knights, for you will speak in Ronceval's place.

Now, my loyal knights, the prince addressed his men. We will rest and feast for twelve days, and after each night's meal, we will hear the story of one of the knights. All that might have befallen him, all his deeds, fair or foul, for he will hold nothing back, all will be heard in this sacred assembly. We can only hope that Sir Galen returns to tell us his tale. This squire will speak for Sir Ronceval.

All the knights agreed that this was good and they fell to their feasting. When the meal was done the Prince rose again.

Who will begin our tale of the twelve knights? he asked. Who will be the first to tell us of his deeds?

Boromir of the Furrows rose up from his chair.

I will begin if it is my lord's pleasure, he said. For my tale is also a confession. Ever since I have rode in here my heart has longed to release the guilt I have carried with me concerning the shameful things I have done.

You may go first, said the Prince. And may you find peace in the telling.

Boromir bowed to the Prince and began his tale.

Sir Boromir's Tale

I rode out into the blustery north, into the wild lands that surround us. Misery and warfare were everywhere around me. The poor and the hungry were numberless. I quickly ran out of gold, so great the needy and so often they held out their trembling hands for alms.

Not long into my travels, as I rode through a forest, I heard the sounds of loud lament echoing through the wood. Following the mournful noise I came upon a small cabin that was smouldering from a recent fire. The blackened timbers still smoked, the wood crackled with the dying heat. So thoroughly had it burned, all remained was a skeleton of a support that could offer neither shelter nor protection.

An old woman knelt outside the cabin with a corpse in her arms, freshly killed by sword cuts across his throat. She wailed in terrible agony as she rocked back and forth, hugging the dead body. Two children, a boy and a girl, huddle in the shadows of the gutted cabin, dirty and afraid.

Old woman, what evil has befallen you? I asked as I rode up to that unhappy house.

It is no use coming here! the old woman screamed. There is nothing for you to take! Leave us! Leave us!

I am not a brigand, I protested. See, I am a knight of his majesty, the king. I am here to do justice.

Oh, we have great need of justice, the old woman moaned. "This man here is my son, a poor woodcutter killed last night by roving bandits. They took everything we had and burned this house. These are his children behind me. Two years ago, their mother disappeared from these woods, and now they are left orphans. Only an old woman remains to take care of them who is long past the age to work. Oh, we will die here, brave knight. Remember us, for you shall be the last to