The 99 Poem Challenge
Fox-Trot-9

99. Epic — The Flying Dutchman
Canto 2 — Family Ties

The rage of grief has passed into the depths
Of silent resignation, yet his loss
Still conjures up the winds of sorrow in
My heaving breast, for still I mourn his passing
Into the sleep of death as twilight mourns
The passing of the day. For silence reigns
Where once was hope and cheer and endless mirth,
Now sunk in doom as day has sunk towards
The growing hours of evening. All the while,
The servants of the house have taken leave                         (10)
To go about their business. Here I sup
In silence at the table, barely eating
A thing upon my plate, now merely picking
At it instead. What appetite I had
Is gone, replaced with wishful thoughts, regrets
Of what if this and what if this or that,
A vicious cycle, futile to the end.

"Miranda, please," my father said to me,
And looking up I saw his worried face
Lined with the wrinkles time engraved, the years                         (20)
Now showing full and clear, "I know how this
Must feel for you, and sure as I know God
You've every right to feel the way you do,
But pray, let not the ghost of your remorse
Consume you in the fires of needless wrack.
The world may seem foreboding when you're lost
Amidst the storm, but know that you are not
Alone in your endeavor to forget."

"Forget!" said I. "Oh, how can you assign
So harsh a task? How could I think of that                         (30)
When all me burns to see his face once more?
I'd sooner faint into my death for him!"

"Miranda, please, for God's sake, no more talk
Of such extremes!" he cried; indeed, it seemed
He could not take much more of my frustrations
Over the course of such as solemn dinner,
And so I stayed my tongue as best I could.
"I know, by God," he said, "you mourn him as
A lover, feel the wrack against your bones
Down to the marrow. God, console your heart,                         (40)
And I do mean those words unto the last
Syllable of recorded time; but pray,
Let not your grief entomb yourself in tears,
Nor let it drown your hopes in endless thoughts
That never come to pass. Believe me, dear,
If by my mortal self I found a way
To free him from the bonds that hold him there
In death, if I could bargain with the Devil
Himself by selling out my soul, I'd do
It in an instant, God or Hell be damned!                         (50)
I'd do it all for you, Miranda, die
A happy man with wretched souls in Hell."

Those words, implored in earnest, touched the well
Within my heart and made a tear to fall
Across my cheek: "Dear Father, please, you need
Not say such words; I have a woman's heart
And woman's mind, and lack your fortitude.
I wish I were much stronger than I am."

At this, he said, "In strength of body, no.
But you are strong, much stronger than you claim                         (60)
Yourself to be; you have the blood of Louis
The Forth, the Duke of Old Bavaria
(And King of Roman Germany, and King
Of Italy, and Count of Palatine
Of the Rihne, Holy Roman Emperor,
And Count of Holland, Hainaut, Zeeland, Friesland), *
Inside your veins as it resides in mine.
It matters not that fortitude of limbs
Should constitute your strength, if strength of spirit
Is lacking in your soul. Remember that                         (70)
When all your hopes lay shattered at you feet,
You are descended from a lineage
Of strength that once had rule o'er all the land."

"But that was long ago, when kings were kings
And men were better men; but this is now,"
I said, despondent o'er my fate. "No longer
Does the supreme resplendence of the past
Hold water to the sorrows of my plight."

"Hold water! Pray, you claim not from those lips,"
He said in agitation, "that the line                         (80)
Your ancestors had shed their blood to found
Is but the shadow of our former glory!
Ah! do you mean to say," and here he pointed
Out those respected portraits on the wall,
Whose names I knew by heart but knew not how
Or why these titled nobles link to me,
"Mean nothing to you then? That you ally
Yourself amongst the wretchéd of this world?" 

"More wretchéd now," I said, "as one who fell
From grace and fortune with the savage hand                         (90)
Of fate when my dear Vander Fokke got lost
Upon the sea, a-drifting God knows where,
Perchance already sunk into the depths!
I'd rather be a pauper with my feet
On filthy the ground than fall from such a height.
Alas, I know not e'en how far I've fallen
Since you have never told me how I am
Related to those nobles with their pictures
Upon that wall! How can I draw my strength
(As you proclaim I must) upon foundations                         (100)
That you have kept invisible to me?
Am I unworthy of that lineage?"

Here he sat quiet as a mouse and sighed
An awful sigh, then said with eyes cast down
In marked humility, "It's not your fault
That I have barred you from the knowledge of
Your origins, or never told you why
Your mother had abandoned you within
My care, or anything that makes you think
You are the cause of my apparent failings.                         (110)
Nothing about you has befallen this
Mansion; it is with me who bears the marks
Confining you from your true place among
Your kindred folk who share in all the counties."

"What do you mean," I said, my breath abated,
"That you should take the blame in place of me?
What have you done t' incur my mother's hate
To leave you with the blame imposed upon you?"

"You're old enough to know the truth," he said.
"The House of Wittelsbach was founded by **                         (120)
Otto the First, the Count of Scheyern; but, ***
Some say, he died while on a pilgrimage
To Old Jerusalem when many inroads
Of bandit men attacked his caravan
During the day's before the First Crusade. ****
From then on forward did the house grow mighty
After partaking in the valiant struggle
With the God-fearing Templar Knights and King *****
Richard the Lionheart, the King of England. ******
The house, through war and truce and peace, had swelled                    (130)
Its ranks with counts and dukes and kings and even
An emperor," he said, while pointing out
Each portraiture, "accruing all the wealth
Of empire and disseminating it
O'er all of his descendants, even mine.
Indeed, those were the days of glory when
Kings were great kings and held in high esteem,
When virtue, fame and honor were attained
In battle proud, rewarded with like praise.
But then the house had changed its hand                         (140)
Of fate, for in the months before my father's *******
Untimely death, while helping th' Huguenots ********
Against their Catholic enemies, he met
My mother, Ursula, and fell in love
With her, begetting me outside of wedlock.
Yes, yes, believe with all your reason, though
Your ears may not believe the sounds I make;
I am a bastard son of Wittelsbach,
The legacy of my poor father's judgement!
Through me, my father marched into his death
Upon the soil of Burgundy in vain
Attempt to free his lover's home, while I                         (150)
Was but a burden to my widowed mother
When she received the rumors of my father's
Crime; ah, his sins have followed me e'er since!
Through me, the fame and fortune of our name,
The House of Wittelsbach, has suffered scandal
That still erodes its great foundations with
My father's actions, foolish as they were;
Through me, the product of that scandalous
Affair, you share the taint that bars you from
The many fruits of majesty and fame!"                         (160)

How could I not suppress the shock that stole
Across the stomach of my nerves? But at
That very moment when the storms of doubt
Had ceased, I saw my father in a different
Light: past those hard indignant looks o'er dinner,
Now that the truth was out, he seemed so frail
And vulnerable with eyes of deep remorse
Begging forgiveness from an only child.

Right then, I had forgotten all about
My dear belovéd Vander Fokke, while tears                         (170)
Streamed down my face: "Oh Father, I'm so sorry!"

"Oh no, dear child," he said, and wiped away
My tears, "that burden which I carry shall
Never be placed upon your shoulders; such
A weight is meant for me and me alone
To keep. But you, oh, you have better hopes
Than I t' escape the shackles of so foul
A destiny, for you are free to be
Or not to be, to change your stars, your fate!
There is a reason why I kept you from                         (180)
Their sphere, not only to protect yourself
From my disgraceful station, but to keep
Those deadly passions that have plagued the House
Of Wittelsbach away from you; for time
And time again, its vast connections with
Their allies makes more enemies than friends.
That's why I never wanted you to marry
Into another dynasty, engaging
Your hand to Phillip Vander Fokke above
The prospects of these more connected and                         (190)
Corrupted men. Miranda, look at me."

And up I looked and knew my father's words
Were true; I said, "If you would rather have
Me then forget my family for their deeds—"

"Ah, don't misread my good intentions, child,"
He said, "for you must not lose sight of where
You come from, lest you run the risk of falling
Into the hands of baser men, these men
Of standing, wealth, prestige and fame who are
In the end only mortal men of fate.                         (200)
Miranda, hear me now: I want you to
Retain the ancient strength of your forefathers
Without the poison of their lust for power
Controlling you. Defy that fate, my dear;
Let not those fickle forces that control
The fate of kings control the path you take.
Be strong, Miranda, and not just for me
But for yourself, for that is where strength lies;
Don't ever let another tell you different;
Believe that strength as I believe in you."                         (210) 

Those were the wisest words my father ever
Said to me. Time had passed, and we had finished
Dinner that night; I looked upon the portraits
Along the wall inside the dining hall,
Their ancient moldy faces looking back
With all the pomp and circumstance of death.
"Where is my mother's portrait?" I now said,
Espying not a trace of her in sight.
"You told me once her name, but nothing more
Than that. I know not even what she looks like."                         (220)

And there he stood awhile in silence; then
He beckoned me to follow him and led
Me to his study filled with piles of books
Beside a writing desk, and said, "Your mother's
Name is Sophia nee d'Orleans, the daughter
Of th' duke of Longueville, Léonor d'Orleans, *********
And Marie d'Bourbon, nee D'Estouteville; **********
She was incredibly determined for
Her sex, eclipsing all the rest in strength
Of highest character. Above all else                         (230)
She would have held the greatest kings in awe;
She had magnanimity of merit and
The will of kings, the gentle heart of Agnes
Of Prague, and all the beauties under heaven. ***********
She was, God-willing still remains to be,
The only other light besides yourself
To light the dusty shadows of my soul
In my decrepit state of infamy!"
And when he looked at me, he opened
A panel hidden overhead, took out                         (240)
A little portrait, looked at it and said,
"You have your mother's raven eyes, her cheeks
And lips, except your nose and hair and forehead,
Those of which you inherited from me."

And then he handed it to me, and I
Beheld the visage of her face, so much of me
Envisaged in the features of her image.
My breath had slipped away; and all at once
The floodgates of my heart poured forth in rapids
Of such a bitter ache, my eyes welled up                         (250)
In tears, cascading down in rivulets
Of deep regret, and all in me that still
Upheld what fortitude I had began
To crumble like a tower in an earthquake;
Such was the quaking of my heart upon
My mother's face that I could hardly speak
A word. But when I had regained myself,
My only words were: "Wherefore did she leave?
What hate possessed her to abandon me?"

"It's not her hate," my father said, "that drove                         (260)
Her from this place. Your mother's love was strong
For you and me, no matter what foul rumors
She may have heard about me; when I told
The truth of about my bastard state, she loved
Me still and never questioned me about it.
It was Sophia's stringent brothers who
Recalled her back towards her native soil
After her brother found out who I was;
Henri the First d'Orleans, the duke of Longueville,
Her eldest brother, disallowed our union                         (270)
And was so horrified to find that you
Were born that he had threatened war against
Myself and all the house Wittelsbach
Should I retain her. When I asked my uncle,
The former duke of Old Bavaria, ************
He warned me to give her up if I were not
To sour relations with a valued ally;
But I refused and almost caused a war
Had not your mother volunteered to go
Away; my God, it was the hardest thing                         (280)
For me to see her go! My family, angered
That I defied them, took away a third
Of all my land and then demoted me
To viscount, just an underling of spite! *************
I was humiliated, broken-hearted,
And on receiving word upon her death
Of fever, I was livid to th' extreme!
By God, I then forswore my own allegiance
And cut off all relations and imposing
Upon myself no correspondence with                         (290)
My so-called brothers. Now you know why I
Disbarred you from their foul corruption; now
You know the inner demons of my past.
And still I stand by my own words: retain
The better qualities of fortune and
Eschew its vices; never let the world
Of these corrupted coalitions make
You compromise the sovereignty God gave you;
While they are ruled by fate, you rule your own."

And then he looked at me, awaiting my                         (300)
Response; I handed back my mother's portrait
And said, "How can I rule my fate when Fate
Has rule o'er me? The actions I can make
For love's lost cause is but the action of
A flower 'gainst the howling of the wind."

He sighed and said, "Just give it time, Miranda;
The pain of loss is fresh and raw, has yet
To cool its embers. In the end, time heals
All wounds, both big and small and deep and shallow."

"Then tell me," I inquired, "if time has healed                         (310)
The sutures of your heart. Or has it left
Scars that will never heal through passing years?"

But at my question, he turned down his head
And never answered, merely placing his
Hand on my shoulder, leaving me in thought.
And here I stayed for quite some time into
The growing gloom; and in the sanctuary
Of all my thoughts, I thought of all the things
I said to Vander Fokke before that curséd 
Voyage into the vast unknown; I thought                         (320)
Of what I might have said had I the foresight
To warn him of catastrophe; I thought
Of what I might have done, or should have done;
I thought and thought and thought until all hope
And love and fame and fortune sank towards
The depths of ugly nothingness and night.

 (To be continued...)

A/N: I bet your eyes are REALLY bulging out of their sockets right now. This canto turned out to be much longer than I thought it would be. And it provides some much needed background information to offset the in medias rex beginning of the first canto. And I also delayed the invocation to the beginning of the next canto, because this one turned out so long. This beats the the length of my first epic attempt by about a hundred-twenty lines. It's almost as long as my ballad. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it. ( ^_^ )

* Louis IV, the Bavarian = (n.) (1282-1347) A German ruler who held many titles in his lifetime including Louis IV the Bavarian, the Duke of Old Bavaria, King of Germany (King of the Romans), King of Italy, Count of Palatine of the Rihne, Holy Roman Emperor, and Count of Holland, Count of Hainaut, Count of Zeeland, and Count of Friesland up to his death in 1347.
** House of Wittelsbach = (n.) (1044-Present) An illustrious royal German dynasty of counts, dukes, kings and even two Holy Roman Emperors.
*** Otto I, Count of Scheyern = (n.) (1044-1072) A count who founded the Wittelsbach Dynasty in 1144.
**** First Crusade = (n) (1096-1099) A military expedition by Roman Catholic Europe to regain the Holy Lands after the Muslim conquest of the Levant (632-661), resulting in the recapture of Jerusalem in 1099.
***** Knights Templar = (n.) (1119-1312) A famous Christian military order in allegiance with the Pope.
****** Richard I of England = (n.) (1157-1199) An English ruler who participated in the Third Crusade, famed for his military leadership.
******* Wolfgang, Count Palatine of Zweibrücken = (n.) (1526-1569) A count who fought and died while invading Burgundy in 1569, during the French Wars of Religion (1562-1598).
******** Huguenots = (n.) Members of the Protestant Reformed Church of France.
********* Léonor d'Orleans, duc de Longueville = (n.) (1540-1573) A duke of Longueville, who was governor of Picardy and Normandy and a military leader of the French Wars of Religion (1562-1598).
********** Marie de Bourbon, Duchess of Estouteville = (n.) (1539-1601) The wife of Léonor d'Orleans.
*********** Saint Agnes of Bohemia, or Agnes of Prague = (n.) (1211-1282) A medieval Bohemian princess who opted for a life of charity and piety over a life of luxury and comfort.
************ William V, Duke of Bavaria = (n.) (1548-1626) A duke of Bavaria from 1579 to 1597.
************* Viscount = (n.) A rank of peerage above a baron and below a count. 

Meter: Iambic pentameter
Rhyme: Blank verse