Time of Old

A sound is heard, a sound so clear
Of clanking armor and screams of fear

To one so young, it's hard to see
To what a battle means to a girl of three

Her Father a King, her Brother a Squire
What lies beyond these walls, the smoke, the fire

Her Uncle a Knight, her Mother the Queen
Only the Lord knows what her young eyes have seen

Swords and shields, Helms and bows
What they all fought about, perhaps none will know

Horns cry out as banners fly
No young man thinks he rides off to die

Works of magic, good and bad
Cries out at night of sorcery gone mad

Many will mourne of battles lost
The families, the villages and the saddened costs

Her Brother now King, her Mother still Queen
No one know what this child of six has seen