I
What have we come to as a nation, a people? Where are the bonds
Of kith and kin. Can we not stand like men, proud of our nation
To defend our homes, our way of life? To stand as our fathers
And forefathers have stood, resolute, proud, willing to give our lives
For the sake of our country? Remember the great battles
Of the past, remember Truwallon where we stood in a thin line
Our backs to the sea, my father's sword glinting in the sun
As he rallied the brave few and we struck and we struck
And the enemy fell around us like the leaves of autumn
Their blood drenching the sand....

 II
I worry about her. She's not been well.
When the body's sick, the mind follows suit.
I must think clearly. There must be a solution.
There always is. What are my choices?
My brothers are too far away to help me.
My guards, army, people have abandoned me.
The castle though is strong. And we have food.
We could withstand a siege for many months
And even if we died our fall would be
A symbol, a light in the darkness. The people
Would mourn our death, nurture their anger against
The conqueror, tell stories to their children
Of a King who would not, despite all odds,
Leave his post but stood his ground ...Oh that's good.
But maybe, this might not be the right time.
Perhaps a tactical retreat would be the better way.
Leave the enemy with no true sign of victory,
No corpse to gloat over, no crown to pick up
From the battlefield and then.... Yes... then to wait
Till sickness and boredom and the weather
Take their toll, while we nurture our people's venom
At the atrocities the enemy will commit
And we shall wear their patience to the bone.
Then they will sue for peace on any terms
So that they too may return to kith and kin.

 III
Then of course, I could just fall on my sword,
The heroic gesture of an abandoned king.
Yes .. A lesson to all those cowards, those traitors
Who when their country called, turned a blind eye,
Would not face the enemy... a messy business though,
Painful. But courageous. Kings must face death
As other men. Sooner or later it will come
And it matters not the coming but the way
That it is faced. After that it is a matter of history.
Let me be judged on my record. I have protected the realm.
I released wheat from the granaries in times of famine.
I built hospitals for the sick, homes for the aged
And the orphans. I flayed alive judges found
To be corrupt and made their skins into cushions
For the others as a reminder. I built dykes to drain
The land and instituted laws to protect the weak.
I have been a good king, better than my father.
I do not deserve this. What should I do?
Maybe I should not ask, what I already know.
The hardest way is the only way to go.
Fetch me my sword.