The Varangian

It seems that Scandinavians heading south to Greece and Turkey is not new
I dreamt that I was a Viking body guard in the Byzantine court in 1031 AD
wearing a looted golden torc, my long red hair in dread locks with
frightening tattoos upon my arms and neck and carrying a battle
axe I waited outside the Emperor’s door letting no one through
unchallenged for which I was highly treasured and paid as
were my predecessors and decedents for generations
but it seems Alexius IV was done in my his own men
in the employ of Alexius V, what goes round comes
around again and some things never change
like the way that people invariably behave
given the chance, Lord Acton had it right
about power corrupting and absolute
power corrupting absolutely, it’s their
job to be corrupt and mine to guard
these clowns but like all good
soldiers know the rules may
change in heat
of battle
I long
to be
back
in the
saddle
and free
to roam about
the fjords, it’s a long long
way from home here in the sublime port
where siblings and their queen mothers feud over
the succession to the throne, I long to see the Northern
Lights again and go on raiding parties in the winter months
on my dragon headed boat…ah life was so much simpler then
and the Anglo Saxon ladies sought out our company as we had
more wealth and fur and jewels than their boys who made an honest
living, now I awake in dawn before the sun to head for Walter Mitty’s office
once again for a million years and one forever and a day as boredom takes its
toll and counts its coo and you will never know what dreams I’ve had with you

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