Boom:
You saw how the waves trumpeted the coming ship. You knew T had come with the goods for R. You also knew R would let D know about y before the joust begins tomorrow.
You begin to count the sand on the seashore, traipsing through the hours it takes you to number the amount D needs.
After disembarking, you go with T and R to D’s home for dinner. Sobremesa. The vintage air cuts the conversations you have to the bone. The lingua franca of delayed anticipation brews the pressure of preparation. A copy of Le Jouvencel obstructs the wine. A good night sleep is necessary for tomorrow.
Echo:
A
decided to speak up at the meeting tomorrow. She had noticed the political reverie of B and C’s game. For months, she had practiced her moves privately.
Yesterday, as the sunlight streaked in through the closed curtain, illuminating an obtuse glint in B’s eye, she could smell smoke. As he announced the operations of the game, she saw the embers of his wishes. She knew B created the game to depose her from a position she was overqualified for. The spectators clapped and B pumped his y in the air.
Overwhelmed and furious, she gave C the documents she asked for, knowing C would tell B about the errors in the spellings and punctuations she was too exhausted to care to correct. The meeting lulled. T took notes. She glanced at C’s smile. C waved and asked her to come get coffee. A knew C was eager to ensure B would win the game.
D was silent.
Tomorrow came. At the tournament, the clouds hovered behind the stables. The banquet was still kissed by the dew. The sound of the clapping and clashing and crying and cheering and chewing and chirping and charges boomed for miles.
A gathered the lists of materials for her joust. She had her shield polished twice. Lance in hand, she bade her horse a magnificent y. She gathered her courage and waited for B to get on his horse. His feet slipped before he could climb. C flinched. Finally seated, he dusted the debris off his armour, adjusted his saddle and readied his eyes on his hands.
Go! A launched into a fiery gallop, armour shining in the noonday sun. Cheers and jeers from the onlookers turn C’s neck in haste to B’s eager strides. Clash. C winces in horror as A’s lance detonates, blasting B’s shield. Shrapnel is scattered on the ground along with a chanfron.
B is motionless.
B eventually stands, and picks up the only salvageable piece of his shield and concedes.
A
roars.
Re-echo:
The castle has flags that often refuse to wave
The horsemen shake the fabric to the crowd’s cheer
I watch it billow with the bellows of winners dismounting
What a sport!
I remind myself why
I unsigned the document of my nonchalance
I recall why
I won’t be confined to humourless harried hours, furloughed to a harridan’s snare
I recollect the details of my why
All the acoustics D relayed at dawn
The pitch of the frequency of the tone of vocal triumph
The queen’s crown is the prize for this victory
the knights present me with chivalrous options. but
B and C weren’t good choices.
So here I am with the mane tag “A” on my armour
Holding my lance, ordering my thoughts
Ready to
“Go!”
Reverberate:
Scenes from Abanony Castle. A has triumphed in the first jousting tournament. B is limping to his tent.
B: Excuse me
S: Sorry
B: Out of my way!
Another S: Pardon me.
B: Where’s C?
Another other S: Out looking for any salvageable piece of armour
Silence descends on B as he finds himself in his tent clutching his wailing limbs. A tent pole wavers and D steadies it with his foot.
B peeps through the curtain watching the musicians play and the queen placing her crown on A. An artist is painting a portrait of A.
B: This fall tastes worse than gall
D: Here’s some gauze for your foot and some water to quench your thirst
B: Take my helmet and shield away.
D: Your shield?
B: Yes take it away
D: I see no shield
B: This is what she left of it. Take it away
D: Of course.
B: Where’s C?
D: I think you should sit. Here, have some -y
B: Out!!
D leaves. The tent wobbles again. Another S peers into the tent and scampers. S and Another other S arrive. B shoots a hardened glance at their direction. They scurry away.
B: Where’s C?!
Vibrate:
“No. You don’t understand. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. There was no equation we examined where B did not win. B practiced everyday. B knew A’s weakness and I taught him all the ways to exploit it.
You only saw the 28 second jousting victory, not the gruelling work that we we we put in.
Imagine this: You create a well detailed plan and execute it to perfection. You scheme for months, gathering details that have details. You call other people with other projects and convince them to give it up for your cause for a handsome payment. You polish the lance and hide a dagger in its mouth. You bribe the palace guards with L’s gold. Your spies have their hands in all the pies. You buy a lie and sell it to the queen’s secretary. You set traps in the boardroom. You send a bug on errand. You wear an armour on another armour bolted to your horse’s saddle. You arm yourself with secrets and file reports to the King. You meet archers on outskirts of town to fortify secondary and tertiary plans. Even D was amazed at the depths of the intrigues.
and yet!
Oh dear, B is calling me.”
