Kleos said, “You would have
me know my place and I
would have you know your’s.
Sheath your blade and compete
with me without your gift.
You need not guess to know
its nature, it gives unfair advantage.”
I did as Pride bade and placed
the sword in its tower
and buckled it to my hip.
The blade’s nature was sharp
in my mind, I needed it not
to understand its purpose.
“Very well Kleos,” I said,
“I have done as you asked.
Let us play our game so
I may recline by my beloved.”
Kleos laughed, “O son of
Pelasgus, you cannot tarry
here – look, already the
window is closing on
your fate.” His chin twitched
to the cut square, now smaller
than before. It was then I caught
from the corner of my eye
Fear, he was hiding behind
Ignorance who foolishly I
thought lost to the surging reef.
“There is time enough to
prove if Beauty’s vision saw
true or if you are just
another brick in her tower.”
He then produced two
Quills – his from the tail of a
Peacock, it’s eye of wisdom
full and wide, mine from a
stone dove, grey and unremarking.
With deft strokes only Pride
can accomplish, Kleos scribed letters
fine on the smooth marble wall:
“What is the nature of Beauty?”
Poised with my Quill I recalled
the orange light I saw high
in Beauty’s tower while I
shivered on the sand.
I wrote:
“That which pleases upon being seen.”
My letters were his equal.
And in the task of writing I felt
a sensation strangely familiar
between the blades of my back,
back from my long ago –
yet I had not time to attend as
Kleos nodded and wrote again:
“What science does Beauty favor and why?”
and his script was better than my last.
Long did I study the night sky
from the deck of my ship
so I wrote:
“Beauty is astronomy. Both rely on observation.”
My hand was fine and steady
my script better still. It was then
it came to me, that sensation
so familiar as if I were a
child cutting teeth
something between my shoulders,
yearning to break free.
The window was closing rapidly.
I placed it firmly behind
and said: “Ask your last question Pride.”
Kleos bowed and wrote:
“What is the secret of the tower
and the drowsy sword?”
Fear climbed on both my legs with
Ignorance on his back – the window was
growing dangerously small. As Fear
marched upwards towards my heart
A cold certainty stole over me
that in failure I become
pinioned by the perverse enslavement
of a sickened appetite
entombed in Beauty’s tower forever.
“And you were so close.” Kleos gloated,
as he approached within arm’s length.
I studied Kleos’ question written
on the marble wall and
I saw the answer writ
before my eyes… the clue
the drowsy sword – but I held
my Quill and spoke: “A tower
is an oubliette standing on its
mouth – alike both forward and back
in the manner of the mirror.
Both are the destination of things
placed to be forgotten.”
Upon my answer two wings burst
from between my aching back
and Kleos kicked me with
a terrible force fully upon
my chest. I flew backwards
from the tower, as much
sideways as outwards in
a flurry of feathers,
fear, and ignorance.
He yelled as I tumbled
like a marble from a thumb:
“Well done Peratae! Chase after
Truth and Goodness and you will
find Beauty hurrying to catch up!”
And I saw the eye of wisdom
on his Quill wink at me as
the stones closed over the grin
on Kleos’ beaming face.
