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Campaign Journal
Dramatis Personae
Song of Riognach
Upon returning home after a long journey...
"To remember love after long sleep; to turn again to poetry after a year in the marketplace, or to youth after resignstion to drowsy and stiffening age; to remember what you thought life could hold, after telling over with muddied and calculating fingers what it has offered; this is music, made after long silence. The soul flexes its wings, and, clumsy as any fledgling, tries the air again. I felt my way, groping back through the chords, testing as a man tests in the dark ground which once he knew in daylight. Whispers, small jags of ground, bunches of notes dragged sharply. The wires thrilled, catching in the firelight, and the long running chords lapsed into the song."
There was a hunter at the moon's dark Who sought to lay a net og gold in the marshes. A net of gold, a net as heavy as gold. And the tide came in and drowned the net, held it invisible, deep, and the hunter waited, crouching by the water in the moon's dark.
They came, the birds fighting the dark, hundred on hundred, a king's army. They landed on the water, a fleet of ships, of king's ships, proud with silver, silver masted, swift ships, fierce in battle. crowding the water in the moon's dark.
The net was heavy beneath them, hidden, waiting to catch them. But he lay still, the young hunter, with idle hands
Hunter, draw in your net. Your children will eat tonight, and your wife will praise you, the cunning hunter. He drew in his net, the young hunter, drew it tight and fast. It was heavy, and he drew it to the shore, among the reeds. It was heavy as gold, but nothing was there but water. There was nothing in it but water, heavy as gold, and one grey feather, from the wing of a wild goose.
They had gone, the ships, the armies, into the moon's dark.
And the hunter's children were hungry, and his wife lamented. But he slept dreaming, holding the wild goose feather.
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