The curtained room was dark, so ever dim,
That d’Arcy found it difficult to see,
But short there came a lowly, moaning groan,
Suggesting someone with debility.
Adapted eyes allowed the Surgeon-Knight,
To peer and look about the darkened room,
When suddenly his searching gaze fell on
A portly shape, emerging from the gloom.
He quickly hastened to his patient’s side,
And feared he’d have to diagnose the worst,
But found, instead, to his dismayed surprise,
That he was impolitely roundly cursed.
Peene never sought to cause offense or pain,
Intentions pure, but all seemed quite in vain.
At once, Sir d’Arcy's gaze did swiftly find,
This ageless man, a Wizard of old lore,
Great Prospero, whose fame was unconfined,
With magic arts known wide from Shore to Shore.
His recognition swift, like lightning's flash,
Sir d’Arcy saw a visage from the past,
For Prospero, with wisdom's steady clash,
Endured the centuries with knowledge vast.
The wizard's presence filled the air around,
A mystic aura, captivating all,
Enchanted whispers, with melodious sound,
To which the very Earth was all enthral.
For d’Arcy this encounter was profound,
A tale to cherish for the days unbound.
The Beast lay on his back, in monstrous guise,
His brutal countenance in slumber deep,
A form so hideous, his two buckeyes,
Closed shrunken in his pallid face of sleep.
His sleeping visage, wrought with strength untamed,
In dreams, a terror that none dared behold,
For even in this state, his power remained,
A presence feared, his evil to unfold.
The sheer ferocity that dwelled within,
A force so dark, it chilled the bravest soul,
No mercy would be shown, no kindness given,
Thus ruled he with his cruelties untold.
A Beast so grim, asleep but never mild,
A sight that truly shocked, yet still beguiled.
Yet as his leaving from this mortal World,
Did hasten onwards with a fixed intent,
The foaming seas came on a barrier,
A steady shoreline giving sanctuary,
Upon whose saving sands the waves were held,
Atop the peak of one such mighty wave,
The limpid form of drowning d’Arcy Peene,
Was hurled against this final obstacle,
To lie unconscious on the homing beach,
As deep receding seas withdrew their curse,
To seek another victim of the storm.
Upon the sand, his frozen body lay,
Unmoving in the coldness of the night,
And not another single human soul
Did join him in that desolated place.
Upon a ledge the awesome monster lay,
As though asleep against the noonday sun,
Yet at the camel’s bridled neighing plea,
The Serpent of the Sphinx did fast awake,
To view with evil eye its next repast.
Before the quaking d’Arcy could dismount,
The Beast had slithered off its sandstone shelf,
And with an almost silent hissing sound,
Did fast approach the camel and its mount,
To bear its fangs, with all their poisoned wrath,
As from its mucoid tongue a slurried slime,
Did fill the air, odoriferous with reek.
The servants disappeared within the dunes,
As from pavilioned splendour came a sight,
An apparition so incredible,
That Peene was scarcely able to take breath,
As down the bank, to join him in the foam,
The Vestal Virgins in their awesomeness,
Displayed a magnanimity of grace,
That reached beyond the limit of belief.
The King complete was at his tethers end,
So weakened he no longer could protest,
And thus allowed du Peene to ply his trade,
Though promising a timely instant death,
If his condition turned from worse to worst.
Though quaking at the prospect of demise,
Sir d’Arcy moved towards the Regal bed,
And straightway looking at the spinal curve,
Confirmed his diagnostic postulate,
As viewed a scoliosis of the bones,
An aetiology that gave no doubt.
With vizors closed and lances poised with aim,
As yet again the Marshal’s sharp command,
Rang out above the Crowd’s hushed babbled tones,
The two began their charge with equal verve,
To meet upon each other’s destiny.
They came together with an awesome clash,
The mogul’s spear sharp piercing d’Arcy’s shield,
Yet by good fortune and just providence,
Was barely parried by Peene’s steel breastplate.
But as the Mogul swiftly passed him by,
Sir d’Arcy struck Akbar a massive blow,
To leave the Arab stunned upon the ground,
Whereon the Surgeon Knight leapt from his horse,
And ran to aid his prostrate challenger.
As d’Arcy helped the Mogul to his feet,
Due to his act of kindly courtesy,
He won respect and general approbate,
And as Adil recovered from his shock,
The Surgeon Knight was hailed victorious.
Alighting from the barge, upon the isle,
Peene climbed up to a base of widened steps,
As upwards rose his gaze towards the peak,
Where on the summit of the marbled stairs,
Stood waiting with her open arms of hail,
A creature of such beauteous magnitude,
That d’Arcy’s breath was instantly suppressed.
Uncertainly he climbed each eager step,
To reach the zenith of his goal’s desire,
To stand before in wonder and in awe,
The tantric priestess of that temple’s fame,
A celebrant of such attractiveness,
That fathomed in his furthest vivid dreams,
The Surgeon-Knight was left in disbelief.
Yet all the while the Surgeon maintained calm,
As steadily, defending to the last,
He waited for an opportunity.
For it became increasing evident,
That though the Abyssinian was strong,
He was becoming shattered by his rage,
That verged upon a violent, maddened state,
Such that he blindly rushed towards his foe,
Haphazard in his frenzied attitude.
Sir d’Arcy warded off this final stroke,
And with his shield delivered such a blow,
That Sidi’s helmet was deft struck apart,
And cleft the Abyssinian’s skull beneath,
To leave him stunned upon the bloody sand.