I care not what the tales will say of me.
I worry much what they will tell of you.
You were my lord’s right arm; brave, strong and true.
We dared to love, although we were not free.
What harm that caused, we did not, then, foresee:
shrinking my lord’s men to a faithful few;
allowing Mordred space and time to do
his wicked acts. All chaos came to be,
and brother fought with brother, friend with friend,
bringing despair as only such strife can…
and in this house of prayer I wait my end,
remembering our love – but what is more,
your gallant fighting on the Saxon shore.
I hope you will be seen as a good man.