Mercury rises; Giles awaits the dawn.
It cannot long delay, night hurries on.
He'd hoped the fairy might by now be gone,
and that some sign would show this 'fore the morn.
But now he hears the tramp of many feet,
and little carts by donkeys drawn along.
Sir Robert's knights are shepherding the throng
and herd them round the castle where they meet.
Giles grips the stocks to stop the knocking knee,
and grimaces, as harsh Gervaise prepares
to ride inside the gate; but stops, and stares
in moon's last dying light towards the tree.
At evening stood no stump before the walls;
but now before the eye, fruit forms and falls.

Robert the sleepless, weary, leaves the keep.
Although he cannot rest, he greatly tires.
His every muscle moves as though stiff wires
his gait requires, or else he'd be a heap.
He sees Gervaise, but frames no firm commands;
his best lieutenant stares with open mouth
towards the wall that overlooks the south;
Sir Robert cannot see from where he stands.
Striding across the court, he goes to see
whatever could have given such a jolt
to knights, and made their leader seem a dolt;
there, to his great surprise, he sees the tree.
A moment he adjusts his bleary sight;
then says, "Sir Mute has taken to the night!"

Throughout the gathered crowd there goes a gasp;
those looking southward where the island lies
see flick'ring light come falling through the skies.
"What ails? Who comes?" demands Gervaise's rasp.
"'Tis Venus!" cries a crone; "a star!", the rest.
But Robert glares, and says, "Not what; which way?
From land to sky, or sky to land? 'Tis Fay!
The Sleeper on the isle, or those in quest?"
"Down, down!" they say, afraid, and Robert breathes.
He turns towards the keep. "Bring all my wise,
and yes! Bring Blaidd as well, that they advise!"
His footmen fetch the sleepers while he seethes.
There first stands Ranulet, the aging Sage,
looking more wont to dream than war to wage.

Then out they stagger, all a merry dance;
the animist and wolfman with the Greek,
star-gazer, alchemist, and then the reek
of brewing druid, exiting his trance.
"To horse!" growls Robert. "All my trusted few!
So you assist me, sorcerers, 'gainst the Fay.
Come, for we must arrive at dawn of day;
fortunate if the fairy we subdue.
Ever the powers of nature quick rebel;
should they succeed in struggling far and free,
destroying plans I'd made for thee, and thee;
What be your future then? You know me well.
Here's my black stallion - now your mounts arrive;
serve me or die! Now show me how you strive!"

The bleary bunch exchange a knowing look,
and Jalen says, "Sir Robert, if we might,
we think the steps you plan cannot be right.
Fear now the Fay; return them what you took."
"Now is the hour," said Robert, "that you learn
logic of all my long and patient reign.
For you have given me no sleep again -
now you shall jail the Fay, or else you'll burn!
Ranulet - you must stay to make your show -
let the militia guard the crowd round Giles.
My knights will drive these charlatans meanwhiles,
unto the island with them must I go.
Certainly keep some screams for my return;
I couldn't bear to only watch him burn."

Gervaise rides up beside the frightened few,
and grinning, beckons them to mount their steeds.
The fattened favoured sorcerers at needs
must ride; there's nothing else that they can do.
The knights have long resented Robert's band,
who sit in seats of comfort; they opine
about some subtle secrets whilst their wine
and meat are all the best to Robert's hand.
But Robert will not take a backward step;
he'd never stoop to live like little kings.
Rather to grand ambitions still he clings,
to rule like Croesus, or Amenhotep.
Thus did he chain an angel from the sky,
and rather than he lose her power, would die.

With aid of others, Robert's chosen few,
the sorcerous six now mount their sturdy steeds.
Their master will now judge them by their deeds;
and most would not have come here if they knew
that one day they would need to prove their worth
in battle, or in any deed of war.
Their talents, chiefly asking ever more
yet giving less and less, whilst gaining girth.
The fierce and forceful Fay they rightly fear,
and hunted looks appear on every brow;
for there is no escaping Robert now,
whose knights delight in showing them the spear.
The party rides out through the castle wall,
militiamen and crowd, all in their thrall.

Venus has risen; early hints of pink
begin to glisten o'er the Eastern seas;
Vergilius stares upon her through the trees,
as Robert's reign is brought before the brink.
As dawn approaches, hark the waking birds;
they chirp an urgent message through the trees
that sounds out far and wide along the breeze,
and seems to hint within at angry words.
The horsemen seek the river with a will,
and soon begin to overtake the cloths
that Trefor left to feed the heedless moths;
for mounting up again was past his skill.
"Forward!" Sir Robert bellowed. "To the flow;
where brave Sir Mute has gone, so must we go."

But as they rapid ride the shady lane,
and dawn's slow fingers grasp the cold terrain,
there comes the sound of swooping, flapping wings
that speaks to them of weird, unnatural things.
From raven down to tiny wren they call,
rememb'ring her who loved them, one and all.
From forest, field and fen there flew a flight
of every kind of bird by early light,
enraged by Robert, death of all they love.
Though knights may wave their shields at birds above,
their progress slows, and all the horses fear.
But even so, the isle at last draws near.

Robert gives up the keys to Jalen's hand,
whose head was clearest out of all his band.
Forming a guard about their stricken chief,
the knights assure that Robert's run is brief
from horseback down to triple-bolted gate,
wherein he enters quick. There gasping wait
the sorcerous six. "Come, guard! Attend!" shouts loud
Gervaise, who leads, perforce, the little crowd
while Robert clears the feathers from his helm,
and wonders what will happen to his realm.
The gate is closed behind the party grim,
as dawn arises round the tunnel dim.