Execution

The Satrap’s frame was corpulent
(he seldom had to move)
his servants were quite diligent
maintaining every groove
they scurried all about the tent
in hopes that he’d approve
their work before he faced the crowd
to claim the head that he’d been vowed.

Assassins are a tricky sort—
a blade that’s up for hire
may kill another just for sport
if that’s their true desire
but often they’re the last resort
for cowards that aspire
to covet someone else’s lot
by plying an atrocious plot.

The gathering was set for dawn
to keep the Satrap cool
he paused to stifle one more yawn
then said “Where is the fool
that promised when his sword was drawn
my target’s blood would pool?
Such failure is a foul disgrace
and now his neck shall take her place!”

The axe man towered dark and slim
and resting on one arm
his scimitar looked deadly grim
impatient to bring harm
to anyone whose private whim
opposed his Master’s charm
the pitted blade was ample proof
that no offenders stayed aloof.

The Dark One was brought out in chains
that dragged across the ground
his passive face showed little pains
the crowd conveyed no sound
the only noises – clanging strains
that ricocheted around,
and a buzzing fly oblivious
to all of this official fuss.

“BEHOLD!” the Satrap loudly cried
from where he perched on stage
“The craven killer that denied
your Satrap’s righteous rage,
deliberately he stood and lied
about the war he’d wage
my chosen victim continues to breathe
which really makes my anger seethe!”

The silent crowd remained sedate
they’d seen this scene before
the tyrant would pontificate
and then he would implore
those listening to never hate
enough that they ignore
his needs as soon as they were voiced,
such graciousness should be rejoiced.

Meanwhile, just outside the town
some phantoms stalked a dune
Verona wore a worried frown
she knew that very soon
to save the man of dark renown
she’d challenge a platoon
her only fear? Not death, you see
but that her lover won’t go free.

Her lookouts signaled – time to ride,
the dark one bent to kneel
they thundered forth and hit full stride
while bristling with steel
the executioners eyes grew wide
he stopped his blade to wheel
and join the bloody fight
but a whizzing arrow felled his might,

acute confusion claimed the day
the shaking Satrap ran,
Verona made it through the fray
and now she had to plan
on how to snatch the keys away
from the jailer of her man
when much to her surprise she found
he stood before her, wrists unbound.


***Well this is part VII of the Desert Saga - here's a link to part VI which has links to previous chapters. Enjoy!***