Trial of the Lilithite - 3 (Pt. 1)

All ships stopped there, and formed a square

Around their ranting priest,

Leant on their decks, they craned their necks;

On murder they would feast.

They held her down, her ankles bound,

While Tucker's face was stern.

"A cross we'll make -- a wooden stake

Upon which she shall burn."

My mouth agape, hair on my nape

as firm and course as wire,

I stared in shock, clutched Tucker's frock

And pleaded, "End this, Sire!"

"Master Ben, my closest friend,

Thy faith must be restored --

By God's hand, we'll not touch land

With the devil's quim aboard." 

The hungry crowd grew fierce and loud,
Demanding blood be shed;
As Tucker's call held them in thrall,

I merely hung my head.

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.