The Scribe in the Wings

A golden throne in great hall stands

Before a throng of nobles grand;

Upon it rests the King, with crown

Fair gleaming on his royal brow.

As tribute nations bring before,

And matters of the law and lore,

One’s eye may catch, hid in the wings,

A humble lad with pen and ink.

His records tell of conquest great,

Of prior kings who met their fate

Beneath the sword of sovereign dread,

‘Ere crown adorned his noble head.

And writes this scribe of justice done

In matters grave beneath the sun,

And mercy shown to innocence;

Aye, fair has this King’s rule thus been.

Yet how, without the young lad’s pen,

Would those to come remember when

This noble ruler walked the land, 

And peace upon it brought again?