Vargas' Lament
A Legend of Armengar
Vargas was wroth. For all that he was the mightiest warrior in Armengar, and for all that armies rose at his command, yet there was one whom he could not command. Yea, and worse, for this person had command over him which he could not break. He, Vargas, Protector of Armengar and bane of the Calebii, had been brought low by a single woman.
And so did Vargas on this day stride back and forth within his chambers, hurling curses at all the spirits who would listen for she would not listen to him. More and more he fumed, until in a rage he left his chambers and strode forth down the corridors of the citadel. Men who saw him avoided his glance and were filled with fear, for within his gaze burnt a fire and where he walked the ground trembled and groaned. Finally did Vargas reach a large oaken door and upon it did he pound with all his might, and the very air did shake with his fury. Not waiting for an answer, he cast aside the door and marched into the room beyond.
Within, his wife Alisa sat on her bed as innocent as a newly born babe, and smiled for her Lord's arrival.
"My Lord, my heart soars to see you once more - I had feared that you would not visit today"
Vargas looked upon his lady and the words froze momentarily in his throat, for she was perfection itself. Her skin was palest alabaster, as white as the driven snow and softer than the finest wool. Her lips were the red of blood freshly spilt and her hair was as black as though a thousand ravens had competed for the honour of adorning her head. Yet most captivating of all were her eyes, in which burnt a brilliant flame; a flame the likes of which had not been seen since the days of Delalaria.
A lesser man might have stood frozen in awe her beauty and stammering an apology left her in peace. But Vargas was a proud man, and in his heart at that time stirred a determination not to allow this woman to beat him. With barely a glance at her delicate hands crossed over her swollen belly, he summoned his courage and looked her straight in the eye.
"Why do you defy me woman? All the city knows that you are nine months with child, and yet you insist that you will march into battle against the Calebii. I forbid it Alisa. Though you may be the greatest of warriors, saving of course myself, I have decided that the danger is too great. You will stay here, and that is the end of it."
Now Alisa was known to be a canny woman - as skilled with her tongue and wit as she doubtless was with a blade - and she smiled now at her husbands words. She could see that his pride would not allow him to back down, for such was the foolish way of men. And yet, she was also known for her determination, and it was whispered behind Vargas' back, that one day she would become protector in his stead. For all that men may talk however, she was at that time unwilling to confront her husband, and instead resorted to guile, for she new that her husband was proud and that this pride might serve her.
"My husband" she began "you are indeed as wise as you are mighty, and I have decided that I must be guided by you in this as in all things".
Vargas was suspicious, for he had been tricked by his lady before, and each defeat lay sorely on his back as a bee sting. And yet, he did truly love to hear of his virtue.
"Truly my love? So you will accept my judgement on this?"
Alisa smiled, for she knew now that she had him ensnared.
"Of course my husband, how could I ever doubt you. After all, are you not the hero who single handedly charged an entire legion of Calebii to save our healers, despite the fact that you had lost your sword and had only a rock and a stick with which to fight"
Pride flooded through Vargas, and he straightened up to his full impressive height.
"I am indeed that man, although I must confess that one of the Calebii had a loose buckle on his sandles and so I knew I could trip him up and destroy my formation"
Admiration shone from Alisa's face as she continued
"And are you not also the man who held the gates all alone for five whole minutes, killing four of the Calebii's champions, as well as a score of lesser men?"
"True my dear, but I knew that the Calebii's formation would not be so effective in close quarters, and I positioned myself to take advantage of this"
"Truly my husband you are brilliant as well as puissant."
Vargas preened visibily.
Alisa's voice rang exultantly through the air as she moved on to her third example.
"And are you not the man who braved the battle field to rescue our Lawkeeper, despite having already taken a grevious wound which would have killed a lesser man"
"One of my finest moments, I must confess" beamed Vargas, all pretence of humility having fled.
"Well then," concluded Alisa triumphantly, "I must follow your example, for it would be selfish in the extreme of me to allow others to go to battle in my place, simply because I am with child. My husband, thank you for showing me the way!"
Now it is said that the even the greatest of generals may never defeat a woman in a war of words, and so knowing that he was defeated Vargas retreated in shame from his wife's chambers.
Not long had he walked when he came across his right hand man Dioltas. Dioltas was not known for being the mightiest of warriors, but it was said that he had a fine mind and among the men it was rumoured that he had once tricked a fox out of its tail, which he now wore around his neck.
Vargas was overjoyed to see his friend, and quickly he explained what had occurred. Yet if he hoped that Dioltas would help him change his wife's mind, he was to be sorely disappointed.
"Nay, my lord," replied Dioltas "for is it not said that only Death is brave enough to come between a man and his wife, and only he on occasion? But in this way I will advise you - inform your wife that she must protect the healers. She is a canny enough warrior to know that this is an important role, and that way should her child cause her difficulty there will be help close at hand".
Now it was like a great rock had been removed from the pit of Vargas' stomach, and he resolved to do just that.
Little is told of what happened between then and the battle, and none may know what passed between Vargas and Alisa. What is known though is that Alisa marched out that day at the head of the healers, while Vargas led his troops against the hated Calebii.
A mighty battle ensued that day, and many heroes lost their lives, never again to walk the walls of Armengar. Tomas, who was known as Damhan Alla for his amazing speed was spitted on a Calebii spear while protecting his young son. Grainne, who had once plucked the helmet from a Calebii general while he sat astride his horse, finally found a foe she could not dodge, and was run through from behind. Fionnlamh the knifeman, about who it was said that even a fly on the far side of a field was not too difficult a target, was cast from the walls as he tried to carry a fallen comrade away from the fighting.
And yet through it all stood Vargas. His laugh was as thunder and his blade as lightning as he strode through the lines of his enemies, and none were brave enough to stand in his path. Though the Calebii are a wily foe, nothing they could do would bring him low. A dozen archers unleashed their arrows at him, but he caught them all and shattered them into splinters one by one. A cavalry unit tried to run him down, but when Vargas looked in the eyes of their mounts, they feared to go near him. A score of men rushed him all at once, hoping to bear him to the ground, but Vargas leapt over them easily and slaughtered every last one of them.
Finally, bit by bit, the beleagured Armengarians turned the tide of the battle and the Calebii fled from the battle field. Vargas roared his defiance at his defeated foes, only to be interrupted by Dioltas.
"Quickly Protector," he stammered, "your wife has need of you"
Looking where his friend pointed, Vargas saw a sight which stopped his heart. Alone, surrounded by Calebii and protecting the healers, his wife fought on. Sweat drenched her brow, and her shield arm clutched her belly. Though many tried to reach her, none could for the Calebii had formed a ring of shields and pikes.
Screaming in rage and desperation, Vargas stripped a spear from a fallen Caleb and charged towards the circle. Planting the spear in the ground, he leapt high into the air and sailed over the heads of the jackals who sought to kill his wife.
And the people of Armengar were in awe, for they had thought that they had seen the glory of Vargas in battle before, but it was now apparent that what they had seen before was as the moon to the sun. For now Vargas fought not just for his city, or for himself, but for his wife and his unborn child and none could stand before him. The very stone of the walls was drenched with Caleb blood, and to this day its mark may still be found at the point we call Vargas' Lament.
And when the rage had finally gone from him, Vargas turned to look upon his wife and what he saw nearly rent his heart. Her skin, always white as the tips of a wave on a stormy day, was drawn and wet. Her beautiful lips were faded and torn and her tresses of raven black hair clung to the sides of her face. From the side of her body, a Caleb sword stuck out angrily and the blood which had once filled her lips now joined with that of the Caleb on the stones. All that remained of her former beauty was the sparks in her eyes - dim shadows of the flames that were.
The strength went from Vargas' limbs, and he fell to his knees beside his stricken love. Gently lifting the hair from her face, he felt a tear roll down his cheeks and hid his face in his hands. Alisa though took his hands in her own and drew them from his face.
"Nay my Lord, do not hide your sorrow, for the tears of a hero are a powerful thing."
Overcome by grief, Vargas allowed his anguish to flow unchecked down his face and struggled to find words which could express his love. Yet Alisa placed a finger on his lips, and bade him be silent.
"Do not speak, my husband. I know what is in your heart, and I will bring that with me to the void. But you must hold on to that love and care for our son. I name him Cuimhneacht. Remember me."
And with that the light died from her eyes, and two cries split the air - one from a grown man whose world had fallen apart, and one from a child who had just entered it.
All Works are © Original Author
(OC Author - Fergal O'Brien)