Sven and Ivaar sat together at the stern of Svens longship, and discussed their findings to date.
The map, recently gained was strange indeed, in two parts, made of metal and engraved, each formed half a ring, which would fit within the other, A thing of two parts indeed and each different from the other.
It would need further study.
Turning to the scrolls they reread the words, translated from the Latin
by a team of priests, of The Dean 501.11
To any who seek to seize the Whorled Cup and raise it high in triumph ,
I proffer only words of Warning;
Tho ,the minstrells may sing, the Skalds retell, the common people chant,
of your success; There is but passing glory. There is no Saga here.
Seven rounds must be entered in and seven rounds be gained,
before that final conflict when all is left to chance.
Along your path to Wem Burgh Lee lie trials and tribulations,
To test the strongest men.
For no one man can win the prize and no one man can hold it
for more than four short years.
You must gather close around you, from all around the realm,
a team of......................
And pit them gainst the others, from all around the Globe.
From all four corners will they come, they and their supporters,
To seize that piece of glory upon the fields of battle,
Where the gods decide.
Upon those fields of verdant green, there still lie many perils.
Beware the posts and beams that bar and block your blows,
the lines you must not cross,
The banners at the corners that mark forbidden paths.
Of accident and injury you to, must be aware,
for even Odins magic sponge cannot return the dead to life.
Beware,beware, beware again, The pictures of the Gods,
Those cards of Red and Yellow from the book of FA.
Beware again, A priestly man, dressed all in black,
Tho` poor in sight and slight of build, he holds a certain power,
to deny, penalise and banish to obscurity all who break his rules,
Before the final whistle of that final match, every nerve and sinew
will be tested to the utmost lengths.
Then and only then, unless the Gods decide
to extend the hours into Extra time.
Will the cup be truly yours, to have your name inscribed.
As one who for a short while was known both far and wide.
Upon your own head be it,
for only you decide,
to hunt for passing glory.
There is no Saga here.
Plenty for Sven and Ivaar to muse on over their next cask of aleReplyDelete
Very nicely written but very forebodingReplyDelete