Dream Poem (free verse - club challenge)

I am counselor to lesser royalty;
my background is mysterious to them,
they do not know I am their ancestor reborn
nor shall I ever tell them.

The rights of passage for the eldest son:
Ceremony of the Missing Sword;
it has been hidden for decades since
the sitting Duke had received it in his youth.

While the family holds court,
the Steward searches the castle
only to report the sword remains hidden;
Duke and Duchess feign concern
and send their Champion for the search.

He returns with the sword
but does not reveal it, pretending failure.
The Duchess sends the Steward
and the Knight to search again;
there is great joy on the Steward's face
as he brings the sword back to the Duke.

"It is found!"

The Duchess smiles demurely,
the game is well played,
Champion and Steward step back.
I am beckoned forward
to instruct the young prince.

As I take the sword from my liege
it tremors in my hands;
an ancient nick causes me to realize:
this is the Sword that Took my Life.

Thoughts return to that day,
storming the corrupt ancient capital,
defeating the High King's champion,
holding the High King himself at sword point.

Not for myself did I accomplish these deeds
but for another, had I known, unworthy!
He took the throne with the High King
standing in chains before him.
"Execute him," he ordered!

Aghast, I refused.
Ordered again, I threw down my sword,
"Do not tarnish this victory
with needless bloodletting, my Lord.
"Do not undertake the task
of undoing his wickedness
by your own wickedness at the start!"

In fury did my new King reach down
and pick up my sword.
I placed myself before the vanquished victim
in protest for this unfolding sin.
One angry thrust killed us both,
through my heart and into his
as he cowered behind me.

All these thoughts and lamentations
flashed before me in an instant;
I turned attention to the present.
The youth before me
gazed upon this magnificent sword.

"Do not seek to wield this weapon my child,"
(for in truth he is my descendant)
"until you have learned in grace and deed
when to refuse its use."

As the custom went, I retold
that final stand of his ancestor:
the horror, the waste, and the aftermath.
How the new King,
realizing what he had done,
threw himself on the floor,
into the pool of my own blood,
pledged solemn repentance.

How he bestowed upon my young heir
a dukedom of the largest castle after his own
and made him Marshal of the realm.
If my tale seemed more vivid and real
than ever it were possible, they had no conceit
that I told it from memory, and not by rote.