She’s the pride of any man’s ambition
and her quiet dignity commands all.
Look at her there with the captives;
How they admire her, and my men too.
She casts a spell on everyone,
so why should my heart be any different?
My situation’s impossible, no worse,
for her woes have some justification,
and my father and I are some to blame,
not that our actions need apology.
War’s chaos and while I know its fury,
my sword’s not tarnished by any shame.
I feel no guilt for what I did in battle,
or for any of my conduct afterwards.
On the contrary, faced with hard choice,
I chose good.
It was my duty to obey that infamous order
and dishonorable that I didn’t.
Instead I resorted to intrigue,
the lowest form of guile
To deceive my comrades
and cheat them of retribution.