[ WP ] `` gather around children , let me tell you a tale of the warriors son ''

An elderly man clad in a blue tunic sat down in his folding chair -- a crude little seat carved from pine wood with a floppy leather cushion ( the only possession, other than his lyre, he could call his own ). He sighed and looked up to the eager young faces awaiting his songs and stories that captivated others in Mycenae and Pylos. 
 
 He straightened himself out, coughed, and picked up his lyre, strumming the strings so delicately as though he were running his hand through a woman's hair. 
 
 `` Gather around, children of Tiryns, and let me tell you of the warrior's son, who conquered Knossos and claimed the coveted isle.'' The children, and even some of the men, were silent now; they could hear the rage and sorrow bellowing forth from his throat. He was a bard like no other, perhaps one who had seen the fall of a great kingdom. 
 
 He caressed the strings once more, tilted his head downward, and let the muse of sorrow enrapture him as he let the tale burst forth from his soul. 
 
 `` In the days when the Cretans ruled the southern sea, there was a warrior who lived in the great palace of Knossos. He was king and his wife was queen, and they lived in a realm of unimaginable riches. On his head was the tusked helmet of heroes before him, and it was that soldier's crown which saw him off when he fought his last battle. 
 
 `` But, this warrior-king's legacy did not die with him, for he had an heir to his name. His wife, the queen of his realm, bore him a vigorous son who would carry on his name. That boy's name, I shall never forget, was Kitanetos.'' 
 
 The old man paused, his being appeared to be stricken with a horror only seen on one who has come face-to-face with all of the worst he has encountered. He continued with his story, even though the terror was still visible in his expression. 
 
 `` Kitanetos, the son of this mighty warrior, inherited his father's throne when he came of age. But lo, how he loathed the gods who blessed his father! How he spat upon their altars and made the priests and priestesses weep! The crown did not deserve to be placed upon such a disgraceful head as his! 
 
 `` Children of Tiryns, know this now so that you may not worship so blindly a king who is not wise.'' The elder's voice had gone from open hatred to quiet disdain, showing his true scorn. He remained silent for what felt like an eternity as the children and some of the men listening whispered to each other in confusion and concern. 
 
 [ I'm sorry if this feels detached, but it's part of a longer work I've planned but not gotten around to writing. ]
