On Saturday I had the pinch-me-am-I-dreaming pleasure of having lunch with historical romance author Jo Beverley.
She's none other than my favorite romance writer. I'm fan-girl when it comes to Jo Beverley.
For today's found poetry, I've taken a scene from Dark Champion, a medieval historical and the first Jo Beverley book I ever read, and turned it into a poem.
She Had to Consider
Arresting green eyes
Flicked over her
Seemed to see her soul
Not liking what they found there
Bastard FitzRoger sat on a keg
One knee raised to
Support his arm
"State your case."
Imogen's voice froze
Seneschal nervously filled gap
"We were thrown off our property, lord.
By Lord Warbrick."
Why quail because
Bastard FitzRoger proved to be
A hard man? She was looking for a champion
Not a troubadour
Imogen watched in fascination
FitzRoger turned a heavy gold ring on his hand
"The castle - how many entrances?
How is the main gate protected?
How many men garrison the place?"
Suddenly his questions, the bustle around them
Her heart gave a little leap
"You are going to attack Carrisford."
He stood smoothly and came to her
Hooked a thumb in his belt
"That is my intention, woman."
She stood as straight as she could
"I am Imogen of Carrisford."
"Come with me."
He strode toward the keep
Imogen could not force her swollen feet
To move quickly.
He turned back
Sharp displeasure on his face
Then he looked at her feet
He swung her into his arms
She gasped in surprise
"You stink," he commented
"There are also fleas," she added
He mounted the wooden steps
Looked her over with a frown
He climbed the steep stairs quickly
She was not particularly dainty
She had sought out this man
She should be pleased at his strength
It made her nervous
She had to consider
A protector's strength being used
FitzRoger carried her through the arched doorway
She doubted she could trust any man
He negotiated a narrow tower staircase
Lord FitzRoger had heard of her plight
Had already been on his way
To champion her distress
He stopped at the upper floor of the keep
Lowered her to sit
"Tomorrow we ride," he said
Brave words did not make brave hearts
Alone, she sagged to the floor
How could she be sure?
Would he turn control of the castle to her?
Would he drain the place of supplies?
The king would see to her affairs
FitzRoger high in the king's favor
She was helpless as a babe
In the keep of an ally
Imogen caught her breath
Why was she so afraid?
- Jo Beverley, 1993
Knight graphic - Crusader - artist Skyewolf
For more poetry, Ride the Poetry Train!
Stan Ski says Great way to capture the essence of the story.
Gautami Tripathy says You had me breathless reading it!
Jane Doe says I was hooked from first line to last.