Brothers In Arms

Brothers in Arms
It is a warrior society, my Brother-in-Arms
You trust no one until they bleed with you
Or prove the value of their souls by sacrifice
And as men, fight for that which is right
And protect from that which is wrong
 
Since our days of wooden swords we fought together
Braw lads in the steps of Arthur and Lancelot
Chafing until the day we were old enough
To be presented our newly forged great swords
The ancient Dal Riada torques put upon us
 
The hours of sparring, sweating, straining,
Steel on steel, I see your every move in your eyes
At the very moment you conceive the action
And you know my consistent imperfections
Pressing your advantage to keep me honed
 
I know what events will make you spiteful
I know when you let anger rule your sword
Over time I have learned how to engage you
To bleed from your heart the dangerous emotion
Leaving you spent but your conscience clean
 
Our knowledge of each has no measure
We know the whisky the other can take
At times fall together in drunken abandon
We laugh at each other’s attempts at love
And grieve with the other for the heartbreak
 
We execute together the good Chief’s will
In the dark cover of the night we steal away
For preparation of the next day’s incursion
By artful diversion drawing from each other
The near discovery of patrolling armed sentries
 
At battle’s dawning I know when you fear
A passing terror I never let you back down from
A time of whispered words of encouragement
That my self and sword will always be your safety
No matter how pitched or horrible the fight
 
As mercenaries we stride forward together
Weapons at the ready, sure in our skills
For the frenzied battle that now ensues
You the trusted presence making me braver
Than perhaps good sense would dictate
 
We can hear his voice echoing from the past. Merlin chants
And he guides us to revive the Red Dragon and his people
In our mind’s eye we see Arthur bold in battle, our inspiration
Against the White Dragon’s desolation of our home
Our proud heritage regained in every thrust and swing of our blades.
 
On the Judgment Day I hope we fall together
For if I suddenly turn and find you fallen
My chance to avenge will be my only goal
Then I will set my sword by the standing stones
With you rent from me, I will never fight again
Cynthia Philippi and Richard Brown
Story ideas and characters based on the work of Richard Brown

 
Seeking Peace

Seeking Peace (The Winds of Loch Awe)
. There he stands, willfully alone
Leaning against the Stone so tall
Head bowed in anguished commune
Drawing strength from its solid essence
His great sword quiet now
 
When just hours before, he had lain
waste the Lowland Wolf "The MacLelland"
his childhood friend and foster brother
It is after the battle, after the blood
and death that the reality of the act, realized
 
The winds hit heavy on the banks of Loch Awe
The air hangs low with the loss and the sorrow
at the base of "Cruachan", the Highland Boar
is secure among his extended kin and clan
tomorrow, MacLellands will demand retribution

In the evening’s calm light
The heiland mercenary seeks peace
Putting from his mind the scene
Of Death’s honorably given blow
That has shattered his conscience
 
Loch Awe's winds touch his knees
Racing past toward the keep
Where he played as a child
With his many extended kin
Life’s double-edged basis still hidden
 
He wishes for childhood’s simplicity
When swords were wood, death pretend
Your enemy never in question
And never your brother-in-arms
Traitorous in act to your sworn King
Cynthia Philippi and Richard Brown
Story ideas and characters based on the work of Richard Brown

 

Filan Ride

Filan's Ride
I was the lowland Wolf
Among the highland boar
The golden son of a law giver
Years ago fostered to Loch Awe
The growing power of the north
 
Through the rain and darkness
I ride for my life
Keeping to the densest forest
To foil my pursuers
My lathering horse, tiring
 
My oath to the McLelland Chief
I have killed in defense of my honor
And in consequence taken my own life
Unless I can make the borders
The secure arms of my own clan
 
All these years I served The Campbell
And fought beside my foster-brother
Taught by the same master
Paired we were unbeatable
By either Douglas or Donald
 
Occasionally I told your secrets
When you slipped away with your father's sword
Breaking it with a careless swing
How I sweat over the forge that night
But Old John never suspected the repair
 
How did we come to be
On opposing sides of The Bruce?
How can my hand, my sword
Have taken your life, your blood?
You whom I've always fought next to?
 
How I will miss your reckless presence
How I will curse fate’s sadistic humor
For handing me this turn of events
I will never again to be welcome
In my highland family's hall.
Cynthia Philippi
Story ideas and characters based on the work of Richard Brown and Mitchell MacLelland

 

The Balancing Of Honor

The Balancing of Honor
What is to be said of highland honor?
This is the story of its ironbound demands.
Of how two lives were brought together
Not by chance’s unintentional deed,
But only by fate’s sadistic humor.

His ire too easily roused by sociable jest,
Filan, foster son of The Laird,
Killed his most-loved Campbell brother.
In the highland way, he gave honorable challenge
And Diarmid fell, hurt by it’s unnecessity.

Away in Rome, not all that many years before,
Diarmid’s birth-brother fled his monastery.
Escaping hypocrisy, he preferred the feel of a sword,
And stepped into adulthood as a mercenary.
On Germany’s soil, McCullouch felt his twin’s death.

In a suicidal gesture to rebalance the scales of honor,
Filan set out for Loch Awe from the borders.
Against advice, he took a kinsman and his new love.
He sought his highland family’s hall out of spite,
Not believing they would harm one they had raised.

In the highlands, fate’s hand was at work.
On that day a ship arrived in Inverary harbor.
McCullouch stalked ashore and assessed his territory.
Everything stopped and silence fell on every person.
His sword was singing in its scabbard.

By fate’s decree they met at the same Inn
Where the horrible deed had been done.
Behind a mask McCullouch gave claim to Filan’s life,
Taking wicked glee at the mystery created.
For to Filan, Diarmid had returned from the dead.

First came his kinsman’s head, still spewing warm blood.
Time and again, McCullouch’s sword tore his flesh,
Until Filan abandoned his mangled shell, and fell before him.
Stunned, his woman valiantly sought to avenge,
And only by Campbell mercy did she see the sunrise.

What is to be said of highland honor?
Diarmid gave his life in the name of it.
Filan sacrificed himself righting it.
“An eye for an eye,” seethed McCullouch,
Murdering once again in the demand of honor.
Cynthia Philippi
Story ideas and characters based on the work of Richard Brown

 

Time's Relentless Sentence

Time's Relentless Sentence
What an unkind thing, Time.
It steals us away at its leisure
Uncaring in its relentless sentence.
Away from the sweet rain and knowing mists
That are the foundation stones of our souls.
And sweeps us along through itself
To unwelcoming scapes.

We are struck dumb by the change
Looking around at yet another new life's trappings
Knowing without being able to say why,
That we are foreign to here. Now.
That we are native to there. Then.
And we mourn the loss of our rightful home and place.

In the reality of our present life
We are desirous of time to turn back.
Back to when we were last effective on the muirs.
Successful in our challenges
Loved within our clan
One with our chief.
Supportive of our King.

We learn again from our parents and friends
Of the strength of kin
Of the bond of blood and name
And read anew, the stories of our heritage
Of the battles and the honors,
Of the Oaths and the swords,
Of the loss and the Clearances,
Time's justification to carry us away.

In it's fickle way time does turn back
If only for a mocking instant.
At times just enough things now will look like then
And suddenly heiland mercenaries march before our glad eyes.
Glorious behind the targe, claymore held high
Long hair tied behind, great kilt so handsome.
Then an incongruous event, the sound of airborne conveyance
And we are shocked back to unfulfilling now.

So we take a measure of strength from the pipes
That draught of healing that calls back,
The nearly imperceptible memories
And we experience again, the fire in the blood.
Ringing across the ages to touch our consciousness
Just enough to bring tears.

  
Cynthia Philippi
Story ideas and characters based on the work of Richard Brown