Portrait of the Knight of Wands

The first song about tarot in this "deck" of songs is "Fool's Complaint," and you can read more about tarot in that entry. This song is, as its title indicates, about another card the knight (equivalent to a jack in a regular playing deck) from the suit called Wands (or Batons).

Since the character is in motion, his card signifies travel and change.

In the speaker's view, the knight has just witnessed the results of a battle, and now views the "last bastions" and "ruins." His reaction is anger; he has "thunder in his face... clouds gathered in the sky." 

There is still hope in the scene, however-- not all the plants are dead. The "flowers" especially remain.

What edifice was attacked? A building or a whole fort or town? We know there is a church nearby, since we see its "belfry," which lies "silent."

The knight is silent as well, and will not relate what has happened. But it was something that was part of "the wider lens of history."

Then comes this enigmatic line: "His mission, the transmission of technology."

Well, yes, that is one interpretation of the "change" his card signifies-- new invention. But why is that his entire mission? After all, the "technology" he wields is, basically, a stick. Another suit is the Sword; isn't that a more technologically advanced bit of weaponry than a cudgel? Yet another suit is the Cup, which implies metal-working, tableware (and all its attendant culture), and even wine-making. Even the Pentacles, the only abstract sign, points toward mathematics, perhaps even astronomy, astrology and religion. The Wand, which relates to magic, is almost anti-science. 

Further, what's the point of bringing technology to a church and a ruin? Is either going to embrace it? 

In any case, he espies a "cannon" and "muttered" that it is "To keep the bishop on his place." He is unhappy about it, but it unclear that he is unhappy that the church is rebellious... or happy about that but unhappy that his power has been checked by the royals and their army, of which he may be a part. 

We now turn toward the knight's state of mind, and find it "melancholy," and "severe"; "his inner burden weighed upon him heavily." Perhaps he was supposed to deliver technology to this building but arrived too late. 

But, like the flowers before, a new sort of "bird" appears to show that life will go on. 

What was the building that is now a ruin? "All the ancient knowledge lay in pieces on the ground." Perhaps, like many abbeys, there was a library here. The book The Name of the Rose is about just such a monastery, in which the monks safeguard, read, and copy old scrolls. Only now all is lost.

It seems the knight had some connection with this place. Was the place for or against technology? Was the knowledge bad because it was ancient and therefore superstitious? Or was the knowledge ancient and therefore rudimentary but fundamental, like that of ancient Greece, upon which so much science has been built? 

Also, was the knight delivering technology to this place? Perhaps he thought if he could modernize some of their ways, he could stop the royals from seeing it as a "bastion" of "ancient," outdated practices and therefore not a threat to progress? But now he sees the library asunder and the church under the watch of the army. They went for the military option, of course.

Or was he spreading knowledge from it, out into the world? And now he returns for more, only to find that because he was gone during the battle, he is the last hope for its dissemination? Does he wish he had been there to help defend it? Is he glad that he wasn't, in that he gets to live on and carry forth its mission, a heavy burden at that? Did he ever even read any of the invaluable scrolls he delivered?

It is not possible to say. The speaker seems selfishly unmoved by any of these scenarios, however: "The cause of all his suffering was not for love of me." It seems that yes, more is on his mind than romance. (Unlike the military men in "Knight Moves" and "The Queen and the Soldier.")

Ultimately, a tarot card is only so big and can transmit only so much information. Like a scroll, or a messenger.

Next Song: Don't Uncork What You Can't Contain.

Widow's Walk

A "widow's walk" is a small walkway, really more of a platform, above the roof of many coastal homes, from New England to Italy, where they originated. The idea is that the wife of a sailor can watch the water to see if her husband is coming home... or if she has become a widow.

This song owes something to the great, ancient ballad "Sir Patrick Spens," about a ship that went down in a storm. It is safe to say, however, the main inspiration was the break-up of Vega's marriage.

The speaker begins "Consider me a widow, boys." So her husband died-- very sad. Well, no, she continues, "It's not the man, but the marriage that was drowned."

"So I walk the walk," she says, which has a double meaning. One is that she is authentic, she doesn't only "talk the talk," but fulfills it by "walking the walk." The other meaning is that she walks the "widow's walk," the structure described above.

This we know because she already mentioned "drown[ing]" but now continues that she is "wait[ing]" and is "watchful" of the "sky," while "looking for a kind of vessel." She is clearly evoking the image of a sailor's wife on a widow's walk, worried at the weather and gazing hopefully for the safe return of her husband's boat. But, she says, she has "never found" this kind of vessel.

Still, she did find some kind of vessel, because she "saw it splinter" and tear apart when it "hit the rocks." 

She has becomes somewhat obsessed about the incident. She finds that she "keep[s] returning" to "where I did see the thing go down... as if there's something at the site/ I should be learning."

She does "grieve" at the demise of the ship, even though, she says, "I knew the ship was empty by the time" it shattered on the rocks. How did she know this?

"We watch the wind and set the sail," she says, at the beginning of the voyage, "but save ourselves when all omens point to 'fail.'" When they saw the storm was surging, and knew that a crash was imminent, they abandoned ship-- as anyone would.

So she blames no one: "We could not hold on when fate became unruly." She chalks the whole disaster up to "fate."

She has four more things to say. One is to ask, "Does the weather say a better day is nearing?" She does hold out hope for the future, and has not discounted the possibility of future relationships, er, voyages.

The second is that she will "set [her] house in order now." This is a typical response to a loss. For one, it is a practical necessity. Emotionally, it helps distract us from the pain and helps us reclaim a sense of control in a chaotic situation.

The third is that she will "wait upon the Will." This could mean her husband's last will and testament, or in the case of a divorce, the judge's rulings. But the fact that it is capitalized indicates that this refers to the Divine Will. She feels she is bad at controlling her life, so she asks that God take the helm for now.

The last comment relates to that: "It's clear that I need better skill at steering." Oh, God has the wheel for now. But as soon as she regains her confidence, she will switch from "Sir Patrick Spens" to "Invictus," which ends: "I am the master of my fate/ I am the captain of my soul," and take back the helm.

She keeps returning to the site of the wreck, hoping to learn something. I think that, ultimately, she does, and the lesson is:

Ship happens.


Next song: "(I'll Never Be) Your Maggie May"