Sitting at last on the parapet

Two exhausted Knights

Quietly

Not seeing the blood and offal

Crusted upon each Royal tunic

Swords and axes chipped and dull

Cast down in disarray

“It’s over” they whisper just to themselves

 

But the bell begins to toll

Passwords urgently shouted,

The Call made, the Echo forgotten

The people are screaming while the slaves rebel

Refusing their labors

 

Those two, 
Battered Knights rise to the call

Not for glory or fame but innate chivalry

They rise together

And quickly move

To rejoin the battle