Grodsgenhaigen
I’ll tell a tale of the ancient days
When men were bold and truth was praised.
There lived a man named Grodsgenhaigen
Son of bold Glenrik and when
He earned himself a warriors name
His master called him then a thane.
For years peace ruled the fertile land
And he learned to love his good homeland.
Also he loved a woman fair
With a kindly heart and fiery hair,
But when the Dane’s came on a raid
They stole away Silva, his maid.
And before he could find her again
The evil men then left the land
And peace returned many days
And a good king revived the ancient ways.
He was a king named Annovick who lived in halls of gold.
Twas by his hand that came to pass those glorious days of old
But the Danes came through and by the sword they conquered wide and far;
Then said Annovick, “let us prepare all of the land for war.”
The trumpet’s sound with drums did rise and all the heroes came
To see what good king Annovick in his wisdom ordained.
Came Hywdsfel that marksman great and Hrothelson the thane,
And many more besides who were worthy of such great fame.
Then all went to the golden hall and sat with courage bleak
To hear what words of honor mighty Annovick would speak.
“Sweyn the Dane has come,” said Annovick, “our pains will not abate.”
“Then I’ll hunt Sweyn down and take his head,” quoth Grodsgenhaigen the great.
Now Grodsgenhaigen was a man of humble birth and means
Who’d lived life as a warrior of the title he had gleaned.
Twas arrogance for him to claim Sweyn’s life-blood as his own,
Yet soon to his side came Hywdsfel and mighty Hrothelson.
Soon many most strong warriors were held at his good command,
All ready to hold the battle-line and die at Danish hands.
Fifty-strong they numbered as a mighty force of thanes,
And blessed by Annovick they went to stop the raids of Sweyn.
Thus Grodsgenhaigen’s merry band began their noble quest
To find the Danes and bring their leader’s valor to the test.
Meanwhile Sweyn pillaged on leaving death all in his wake;
His hundred men were burdened the spoils they could take.
For many moons they tracked their foe across the open plain.
Their path was marked by heaps of corpses left by vicious Sweyn.
On Hallow’s eve the Danes dug in and built a well-armed camp.
Twas Hywdsfel’s grey eyes that caught the glittering of their lamps.
And Grodsgenhaigen hoped these were the men he’d fought before,
And who’d stolen his girl and coated all of the good lands with gore.
He meant that he might then recapture his Silva, the fair,
And ready he made clean through the Danish war-coats then to tear.
So Grodsgenhaigen bade his men to hem in all the Danes,
And doing so they loosed barbed shafts and chanted their leader’s name
But the Danes held fast and built a wall of shields and bristling swords;
The Saxons drew a battle line of noble warrior lords.
The Saxon line began to charge, the war-horns did resound,
But the Dane’s staved off this great attack and proudly held their ground.
The sword-strokes fell and shields were split, the battle-thunder rolled,
And such a fight was fought that day as has never before been told.
Then Grodsgenhaigen fought his way through sixteen Danish men
To where Sweyn hid behind the shields of his own kith and kin.
And Sweyn leapt forth with sword unsheathed and murder in his eyes
And Grodsgenhaigen whirled his ax like lightning from the skies.
Meanwhile Hywdsfel felled many Danes with his fierce-flighted barbs,
And Hrothelson killed many more with ax-blows ever hard.
More blows were struck that day than had been struck in many years;
The fray was fierce when Grodsgenhaigen dueled with Sweyn the feared.
Then Grodsgenhaigen raised his axe and smote Sweyn on the head,
And Sweyn fell down and all could see that he was surely dead.
When the Danes saw this they turned their backs and fled from the field
For before the wrath of Grodsgenhaigen even they did yield.
And thus the land was rid of all the plunderings of Sweyn,
No more was blameless blood poured out by heartless warrior Danes.
They won that day such treasures of richness still yet untold,
So rich were they their peasants went to live in halls of gold.
-Then unto Annovick they went to claim their fame in slaying Danes
The king himself was full obliged to honor their great names.
Wealth came then to their green lands,
And Annovick with his own hands
Built a mighty fort in mountains great
Lest other cruel men invade.
For many years peace ruled the land and halls were built and feasts were had
Till Annovick in his old age fell sick and soon was dead.
So Grodsgenhaigen took the throne
And ruled the kingdom as his own.
And Hrothelson and Hywdsfel
Then guarded the green lands well.
Each took a squire and trained him well till many warriors they could fell
A sharp-eyed man of name Gladwein was taken by Hywdsfel.
This man could split a swinging rope
And with his arrows he could hope
To outdo Hywdsfel in skill
As his arrows rushed in for the kill.
And Hrothelson took young Hansvaal, and trained him in the golden hall
To wield a glittering blade so all, by his skill were enthralled.
For fifteen years a peace was had
For which all honest men were glad
Till Harbaren the son of Sweyn
Came for vengeance plain.
Thus came a horde ten-thousand strong with armor thick and war-swords long
To rid the earth of Saxon men; the golden days were gone.
Danish rage was unleashed then
From rocky crags to fertile glens.
Death marched upon the golden hall.
And loomed above them all
So Grodsgenhaigen raised a band of some hundred score of strongest men
And fielded them against the horde of savage Harbaren.
They marched to a field named Candelton
Which the Danes had placed their banner on.
The lines clashed hard and blood was shed
On piles of courageous dead.
Soon all the Saxon men did rout from slaughter-fields at Candelton
And took their courage and cast it out, preferring to still live on.
Scarce twelve score of men the Danes did lose
In pouring Saxon blood profuse
So Harbaren kept marching on
Till peace in the green lands was gone.
The peasants fled then one and all to seek peace in the golden hall
Where Grodsgenhaigen was forced to watch his fair green kingdom’s fall.
When it was plain no good could come
He roused his men and they soon were gone
To seek refuge behind such walls
As surely could never fall.
So in the citadel of Annovick they hid from oncoming hell
And all the peasants fled then to the mountains guarded well.
But Grodsgenhaigen stayed behind
With warriors of the boldest kind.
And they prepared to make stand
And fight to the very last man.
Hywdsfel and Hrothelson, with Hansvaal and the great Gladwein
Were all the soldiers on the wall as Danish forces came.
The horde of Harbaren came then
With steely helms strapped o’er their chins
And drew their ranks prepared to charge
The walls that still loomed large.
Grodsgenhaigen addressed his men and bade them have no fear of death,
“My friends,” he said, “these are the last of all our righteous breaths.
I bid you now to hold this wall
And fight until death grips us all.
We need not win but only last
Till our folk from this realm have passed.”
The Saxons slung then arrows down and punched through many Danish crowns
As toward their keep the horde pressed on, and Danes were all around.
A ramp was raised with a human wave
And Danes marched on up to the blood they craved.
So the Saxon five made fast their blades
And gave fight to the fearsome Danes.
For days they fought, and peace they sought to no avail through unleashed hell
No ramp would stay upon their wall for they kept their keep quite well.
And at long last the Dane’s lost heart
And many felt defeat’s grim smart.
So desertion plagued the Danish horde
A hurt to Harbaren their lord.
So Harbaren that man so cruel then gathered up war’s fearsome tools
And standing below the high Saxon walls he begged them for a duel.
Then Grodsgenhaigen took up arms
And answered to this grim alarum.
He draped himself in glittering mail
And prepared to meet a sword-stroke hail.
The two then met on open field with such arms as were fit to wield
Encircled by their honest thanes they set up their new killing field.
Each took up ax and heart hard
As his own life he meant to guard.
With teeth clamped tight they set to fight
And send their foes to flight.
Each force then took a solemn vow to accept their own defeat
If in this match of arms their native champion was beat.
These two grave foes then said farewells and at the blasting of a horn
They dove to the fight with footsteps light each meaning their foe’s flesh torn.
Now as they battled onward one thing neither warrior knew
Was that Silva’s hand would play a part in this last battle too,
For as a slave to the house Sweyn she’d tended Harbaren’s arms,
And on the hip she’d left a spot of hauberk free to harm.
Harbaren then swung his axe with skull-crushing force
And Grodsgenhaigen stopped his blow along its coming course
And with his fist he made a dent on Harbaren’s foolish face.
He struck so well his fist fell like a war-blow from a mace.
The son of Sweyn then staggered back, teeth showering from his jaw
And hurled a rock at Grodsgenhaigen as jagged as a claw.
It struck him hard upon the chest and cut through his mail shirt,
But his ribs kept out this wicked stone and thus they proved their worth.
The two returned to axes then, their wounds were granting strength,
And they battled on all through the day until at longest length
Grodsgenhaigen’s ax struck home on Harbaren’s mailed hip
And through the weakened armor’s leg made one last final clip.
Those Dane’s still there to watch the fight then called the battle lost
And lamented at the foolishness of their harsh war’s great cost.
They vied for peace and then received a treaty kind and good
And went back to the lands of their ancestorhood.
And since there was no leader left to rule above the Danes
Their kingdom went to Grodsgenhaigen, who ruled o’er them in name.
His kingdom then held all of the north, and peace made a forward lurch.
His mind then turned to Silva and returned to his search.
For months he sailed the open seas in search of his lost love
Till he found her again by such fortune as bless the heaven’s above.
And then with vows said they lived their days in power and in peace
Till at great length they came to the end of their good life’s long lease.
