The Pact

No moon shone bright
As a nameless knight,
His hood pulled over his face,
With an unsteady sway
He made his way
To a dark and mystic place,
Where he sought within
Some smoke-filled den
For he knew there a stranger lurks
To welcome him there
With an eye most rare,
And evil and knowing smirks.

“Come in, Your Grace,
To my humble place.
Yes I know you despite your cloak.
Don’t think to hide,
For my eye sees wide
Through mist and steam and smoke.
Some weeks have gone by
Since you came on the sly
To beg me, a favor do.
Now once more you are here,
And you reek with fear.
Now what can I do for you?”


The hooded duke,
With a haggard look,
Leaned wearily on his cane,
Said, “To save my shire
From a fate most dire,
Again you must make it rain.
For from the north
Owl’s Nest comes forth
To harry our small domain.
And if we should lose
Our women might choose
Lords who don’t get around with a cane.”

With an oily smile,
And a laugh most vile,
The stranger’s voice said with a roll.
“The price is the same
As the last time you came.
The cost is a piece of your soul.”
So the duke stripped his pants
And his tunic to dance,
To prance and to gambol about.
And he said to himself,
Though embarrassed to death,
“It’s worth it to keep Owl’s Nest out!”