THE LUTE MAN

Richly arrayed in cavalcade, the king’s brigade paraded down the promenade, passing merchants, their trades displayed, and maids in braids, as children strayed ‘neath the pervading shade of a colonnade. A song of serenade marinated the air, thick as marmalade, cascading king-ward; and ricocheted into the royal ear. The king stayed his men, and bade be conveyed to the source of the Siren glissade.

Portrayed in a frayed and abraded brocade, a lute man played, and laid a ballade of crusades and invaders, of blades and foul traitors. And as he bayed his fading roulades, resounding throughout the arcade, he prayed for aid in hopes they’d get him paid.

The scene surveyed, the king, buffeted by an interest inlaid, waylaid the lute man to offer his clichéd accolades.

“Where will you play later today?” the king inquired, “For I would be dismayed if I were delayed and unable to hear you.”

“I do not know,” the jaded lute man relayed.

“Do not evade, downgrade, or dissuade me!” the king upbraided. “I wish to hear you play later today. Where will you be playing?”

Staid, the lute man said, “I do not know where I will play later today.”

The king, dismayed, felt betrayed by the charade of a charlatan, and sprayed into a tirade, demanding the lute man be degraded to the stockade until a decade had weighed upon him. Afraid, the lute man swayed as a royal aide forbade any further escapade and they made their way to the palisade.

Thus mislaid, the lute man saw neither nightshade nor shade of night for ten long years of waiting, laden with dreams of glade-wading bridesmaids, and of masquerading renegades.

Finally, the king, persuaded to remove the barricade, had the decayed lute man brought before him.

“Why would you not tell me where you would be playing later that day, so long ago?” the king, once again, inquired.

“How was I to know, that morning, that I’d be playing in your stockade by evening?” the lute man replied.

johnkluttz 07MAR2019