The Queen of Nineteen Trebles


Speed Painting: Medieval Castle by NatMonney

The Queen of Nineteen Trebles

Over Dwyrenland held sway

And Heimlenholm and Ruddland

And many more to date

Yet, “My kingdom for a sceptre”

She oftentimes would say

And none did understand her,

So grand as she was vague.

For she had a crown of moonstones,

And the mountain leopard’s cape

And in her right hand firmly

Shone the sceptre of her state.

A suitor once ventured to ask:

“My Queen, wherefore this fancy

For that which you already hold,

And with other rods a-plenty?”

That man never appeared again

Before the Queen of Nineteen Trebles,

So the question was forgotten

While the jest kept in the annals.

There came a year of troubles,

When the nobility turned coat

Advisors naught but enemies

As ambition begot revolt.

But the Queen of Nineteen Trebles

Had long suspected such a threat –

The conspirators were slaughtered

And their forces fast beset.

Then did Her Majesty fare forth,

Intentions bent upon remedy

For the people still unsettled,

And her inner circle lacking.

Her counselors had fallen, true,

But the Queen prepared a test

She would raise to Duke or Duchess

One whose answers pleased her best.

Merchant, commoner, soldier alike,

Flocked to meet their Queen

Daring the aureate challenge

That might their fortunes glean.

Yet the Queen of Nineteen Trebles

Was as a sphinx under her crown,

Until a daughter turned to scholar

Entered, and was announced.

She bowed and gave prescriptions

In wisdom and careful knowledge

On matters farm and military

Her manner shy yet solemn.

Of a sudden, the girl faltered

So her rapt Queen commanded:

“Speak, my girl, and directly –

Ask whatsoever you are minded.”

Then the youthful scholar spoke,

In her hesitance still bravely:

“Of what are your Nineteen Trebles

My great and gracious Queen?

Some things in triplicate surely,

And yet wherein the meaning?

I have sought for years, but fruitless,

I remain a fool in waiting.”

Then the Queen of Nineteen Trebles

Arose with both hands empty.

“Now I have found my sceptre,

Though I was years in waiting.”

So the unassuming scholar

Was made Duchess in her own right,

And she gave the Queen fair counsel

‘Till the age passed into night.

~

Elizabeth Cook, 2016

Image by NatMonney at DeviantArt

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