The Minstrel's Song

By Mike Partington

An exciting music-themed adventure which is predominantly set in a magical world where a very different science governs the lands. It surrounds two individuals, Richard and Candice, as they seek to rid these said lands of an evil undertone but in quite an unconventional manner. There are not only gods and dragons, as one might expect, but also compelling characters, subplots and unique environments. Music is the heartbeat and lifeblood of this enchanting world where many mystical quests lie in wait. In addition to the rhyming nature of this novel, incorporated within the content are real-life music song titles and intriguing word association anagrams to add a quirky twist. Prepare to be whisked away through time and space to a place where endless possibilities exist. Will goodness overcome evil and with what consequence? Only musical artistic brilliance can save the day, but will this alone be enough? Strap yourself in and enjoy the journey.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781528970914

Mike Partington

Mike enjoys writing poetry and short novels as well as being involved in the music industry, working with one artist in particular now, but having previously done so with several, including one connected to an iconic, legendary band. He spends most of his time in Liverpool which is of course a music hotbed being the home of ‘The Beatles’ among many other famous bands/artists, although he resides on the Wirral. He is also a fan of Tranmere Rovers Football Club, American football, playing chess and walking among nature.

Book preview

About the Author

Mike enjoys writing poetry and short novels as well as being involved in the music industry, working with one artist in particular now, but having previously done so with several, including one connected to an iconic, legendary band. He spends most of his time in Liverpool which is of course a music hotbed being the home of ‘The Beatles’ among many other famous bands/artists, although he resides on the Wirral. He is also a fan of Tranmere Rovers Football Club, American football, playing chess and walking among nature.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my family and dear friend, Hellena.

Copyright Information ©

Mike Partington 2022

The right of Mike Partington to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528941877 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528970914 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Chapter 1

Olde Mill Inn

Our laws of physics are a mathematical equation

Bombs are built for war, mass destruction and invasion

Just a simple set of numbers and symbols in a row

Yet they form a sequenced code that leads to death, despair and woe

Superficial knowledge only purchased by a fool

Who has far more riches than sense but can govern and rule

Imagine another world from a different time

Where the unique science of their age was music, verse and rhyme

To portray emotions of their soul and talents each possessed

They wrote their finest music through which wisdom was expressed

Their laws of physics relied upon musical notation

Songs were scored by the extremely skilled in this vocation

A magical wisdom that could not be sold or bought

Natural abilities which had never been learnt or taught

Imprinted within the spirits and souls of the wise

Peacefully ruling over their lands, waters and skies

This precious, intangible force was unable to lead

To any malice and envy, corruption or greed

Upon each generation these powers were dependent

Until the next custodian, each ancestor’s descendant

An inherited wisdom of just these chosen few

With each passing age their great powers continuously grew

These musicians were mostly idolised, worshipped and revered

Yet among a jealous minority were hated and feared

This can be explained by each composer’s wondrous art

The food of every soul and love in our heart

That cannot be seen although it is so very real

And only touches the inner emotions we feel

A magic of sorts, it can therefore be said

Influencing the mind and thoughts inside our head

Such wisdom and strength of soul some desperately crave

An elusive obsession from the cradle to the grave

Legends told of magic concealed within the gleam

Of starlight in the heavens and its radiating beam

Penetrating great distances at the speed of light

Racing through both time and space yet remaining so bright

Across the endless universe an ever-twinkling glow

We can bear witness to these stars that burnt out years ago

Ancient suns from far off galaxies now long since gone

Their existence has passed although we know they once shone

As we can still observe today when darkened skies are clear

Against the black canvas of night these glinting jewels appear

Millions shine down upon us from varying heights

It is one of Mother Nature’s spectacular sights

Like viewing historical relics from a bygone age

Or reading a book backwards starting with the final page

We cannot journey along these time paths or those between

Through which the light emitted from a star must once have been

On its voyage to our planet and beyond to more

Holding the key that unlocks all secrets of the time door

Surrounding time manipulation thus meaning space travel

Great minds appreciate that if these mysteries unravel

A tapestry woven from creation to present day

Utilising the fabric of time would show a way

To harness and overwhelm their own primitive resources

By unleashing time portals to protect them from dark forces.

Midnight, Christmas Eve in just a recent time

Around the streets of London, Big Ben began to chime

The chilling winter air sprinkled snowflakes on the ground

A fine layer started to form without a single sound

This gentle fall grew thicker as it swirled in the night sky

Before a blizzard then ensued and snowdrifts piled high

Creating a white blanket upon the empty street

Untouched by human hand or a single pair of feet

From a veil to a curtain, a curtain to a wall

The blizzard turned to snowstorm, London’s heaviest snowfall

One lantern shone so brightly in the raging storm

This soft light so inviting, welcoming and warm

It glowed just like a beacon above the Olde Mill Inn

Enticing weary travellers of every kith and kin

Inside there was much merriment where the beer would flow

With cosy talk and laughter, also respite from the snow

A figure stood upon the stage with guitar in his hand

The drummer and bass player were in his backing band

They tuned up for a moment, then they began to play

Enthusiastic onlookers danced the night away

Clapping to the rhythms of guitar, drums and bass

The clientele then cheered as the band picked up the pace

This guitarist wooed the crowd with finger-picking flair

He wore a thin moustache and long, black, curly hair

His lips were pursed so tightly, narrow piercing blue eyes

Concentrated intently as the tempo started to rise

Adorned only in black from his head down to his feet

He dropped into the rhythm whilst his boot tapped the beat

The music flowed continuously, like the wine and beer

But once the encore finished all knew the end drew near

These revellers started to drift towards the exit door

As the band packed up their instruments despite the cries for More!

Everyone donned their coats and scarves to face the winter’s night

They began to shake and shiver when the wind started to bite

The bartender then paid the band and thanked them for their show

Both the drummer and bass player departed into the snow

Their guitarist was the last to leave, as he lifted his case

He saw to his surprise the barman’s bewildered red face

Richard, he said to the musician, "I want you to see

A painting hanging on the wall, come now, follow me."

So Richard followed through the snug, passed tables, stools and chairs

Around the narrow bar and up a flight of stairs

These furnishings were sparse within the Olde Mill Inn

The painted walls stood bare and each carpet had worn thin

At the top, the inn’s bartender entered through a door

It was a room that Richard had never seen before

Within this private lounge was the painting on the wall

Of a young, fair maiden standing by a waterfall

The middle-aged bartender then stroked his thinning hair

And said to Richard quietly, "This secret I must share

That waterfall runs deep and sometimes it runs dry

But when it starts to swell, this maiden then begins to cry

Her tears fall as crystal and when the sun’s rays strike

A kaleidoscope of colours shines almost rainbow-like

These tiny crystal droplets illuminate the room

Then they form a poem, telling of her doom."

The innkeeper arrived and shook Richard by the hand

He was a loyal fan of Richard’s songs and band

A rotund, little, jolly chap, round-faced with beaming grin

Who had worked as chef for many years before he bought the inn

"You always find on Christmas Eve and also Christmas Day

All of our rooms remain vacant as no one books to stay

It’s the quiet season until entering New Year

Although the bar gets busy with lots of festive cheer

Only in the Bible have I ever known

An inn that’s full at Yuletide, I tend to be alone

My barman, Mr Peagram, seemed to know you would arrive

He says when I depart, this painting comes alive

You’re welcome to a room, please follow me this way

Here, take this key and I shall see you Christmas Day."

Thus it was agreed that Richard stayed the night

To bear witness to this magic in the morning light

He managed to sleep soundly and dawn had long since broken

It was close to the hour of ten when he was awoken

By a knock upon the door, which took him from his dream

So vivid, yet surreal, with the same recurring theme

He was dreaming of the maiden, walking with her hand in hand

For many tens of miles, through a distant land

Along the way they joked and talked

They sang and played whilst they walked

Mr Peagram’s voice brought him from his sleep

"Breakfast’s served downstairs before you see the maiden weep

Merry Christmas Richard, the sun’s starting to break through

Morning mists are clearing, the skies are turning blue."

Richard washed and dressed then looked out onto the street

The snow had thinned considerably in the rain and sleet

Whilst the gritted road was silent and the only clues

That anyone had ventured out were footprints from their shoes

Richard opened a window and breathed in the crisp air

He felt a breeze upon his cheeks and ruffling his hair

Then he headed for the parlour, where to his great surprise

There was a table laden with bread, broth and meat pies

Upon a second table that was set for three

Were eggs, cheese, fish and fruit with steaming mugs of tea

A third and final table contained a silver tray

With jugs of milk and coffee to complete this vast array

The innkeeper then entered with turkey, beef and lamb

Butter, scones and crackers, sugar, cream and jam

Mr Peagram soon arrived and they exchanged seasonal wishes

Before turning their attention to these sumptuous dishes

They each ate heartily, consuming this fine fare

Then Mr Peagram whispered, as he fixed his stare

"That time’s arrived now for you to answer the maiden’s call

The sun will be shining brightly upon the waterfall."

Richard took the key and then he ascended the stairs

Hoping his dreams of last night would not become nightmares

Unlocking the door carefully, he slowly peeped inside

But as far as he could tell the maiden had not cried

He approached the painting to observe the maiden’s pale face

And felt as though he knew her from another time and place

The picture looked so old, housed inside its wooden frame

Entitled only ‘Self-Portrait’ although there was no name

Richard sat down in a chair, whilst the clock ticked on

But the painting just remained the same until Big Ben struck one

Mr Peagram brought refreshments from the downstairs bar

Two tankards filled with ale and Richard’s old guitar

I thought since you were waiting you could play for a short while.

Richard took the battered case with an appreciative smile

He played renaissance melodies from centuries ago

And as he struck the chords the painting was aglow

At this moment the tears of the fair maiden’s woe

Trickled down her cheek and then began to flow

Solar beams now radiated prisms of pure light

Diffracted by the maiden’s tears, dazzlingly bright

This chain reaction created a multicoloured spectrum

As Richard struck the guitar strings with fingers, thumb and plectrum

Mr Peagram wiped away the cold sweat from his furrowed brow

He looked at Richard keenly, "It’s happening right now

You’ll see the special reason why I asked you to be here

She believes that you’re the one to conquer her worst fear."

Words then materialised, "Read the writing on the wall

Please hear my desperate plea, save me from Minstrel Hall

A minstrel is my only hope, a single mere mortal

They will know of whom I speak, their quest begins in this time portal."

These words projected upon the wall began to fade from sight

But the room was then enveloped in a blinding shaft of light

And the torrential waterfall now became so deep

That from the painting’s picture frame water began to seep

Beginning with a steady drip, it increased more and more

Until the water overflowed, cascading to the floor

The crescendo of colour quickly started to fade

As the powerful sunrays fell into clouded shade

I’ve seen these words before Richard, Mr Peagram said

"Although the water’s never risen above the riverbed

There’s no doubt in my mind now that this message is for you

But do you have the courage? Richard replied, Yes, I do!"

So the river’s current pulled him towards the picture frame

He began to comprehend his life would never be the same

Richard remained calm although he still had no idea

Where his final destination lay, he felt no ounce of fear

Afflicting him throughout the journey, just then he could hear

Rhyming words whispered with such clarity in his ear

Sleep then overcame him as the poem gave a taste

Of the arduous task awaiting and challenge that he faced.

A strand of golden hair was caught up in the wind

Imprisoned behind bars, although she had never once sinned

Angelic facial features, wide emerald green eyes

Enough to captivate, entrance and hypnotise

Her long, thick, flowing mane of graceful, silken hair

Was ruffled by the breeze, this maiden, oh so fair

Had smooth, unblemished skin, velvet textured yet so pale

She looked just like a princess from a fairy tale

With ruby red lips trembling, so saddened by her plight

Revealing snow-white teeth like pearls that glinted in the daylight

Her hand then wiped away a tear from her dainty nose

Terrorised by fear, this was not the life she chose

A magical waterfall always gradually swelled

Within a distant place, where her family and friends dwelled

She loved all nature’s beauty and whilst walking alone

Was taken by the Dark Lands to this world of stone

Who could be her saviour as she wept through night and day?

Staring out from the barred window, all hope seemed so far away

Facing the threat of evil, ancient prophecy had told

Once in a million years, there would be one so bold

A legend who was prepared to face