Would you hear the ballad, 

would you believe the words said?

The deeds of King Harald Hrósa,

The last long-toothed wolf of the North,

and the tales told of him long ago.

The dance resounded in the hall,

When great feasting was made in Holvika,

on the highest point of summer, 

All around, the subjects of Harald came

to the great king's court for the festivities.

dancing and merriment were made in the long hall of Holvika, 

Afkel, the fool of the court,

was known for his playful demeanor and witty jests,

but his words hid secret meanings few understood,

Harald proud ruler was no exception to Afkel's keen lessons.

Dancing resounded in the hall, 

dancing in a ring before the throne

at its center, there danced Afkel the Fool,

his belled shoes ringing and laughter brought from them.

Yet as Afkel no longer danced

and he came forth to the throne of King Harald

wishing to speak to him words of visions he had seen,

with a hush, Harald beckoned the dancing to cease,

to hear the words of Afkel the fool.

"O noble Harald King,

a tale have I for thee, a tale of fate and future

if thee will but listen to an old fool's prattle."

King Harald, ever eager for entertainment,

did lean forward to hear what the jester had to say.

all stood still and idle, for they too wished to hear

the prattle of an old fool, wise and humorous.

"Across the seas, your name shines bright,

A king's glory, a warrior's might.

But heed the whispers, the shadows' call,

In wheat fields, a test awaits your fall."

The courtiers chuckled, taking Afkel's words as mere jests,

yet King Harald sensed a deeper meaning behind them.

His brow furrowed as he asked,

"What test awaits me in the wheat fields, Afkel?"

The jester's eyes met Harald's, and for a moment,

a somber look crossed his face before he returned to his playful demeanor.

"Ah, my lord, the wheat fields hold many secrets.

It is a place where the harvest of deeds is reaped,

and choices made bear heavy consequences."

Harald's curiosity was piqued, and he pressed further.

"Speak plainly, Afkel. Speak of this test in the wheat fields?"

But the jester only grinned enigmatically.

"Ah, my lord, the future is but a tapestry

with threads of plain and hidden mystery.

Embrace the wisdom of the jester,

and the secrets of destiny shall unfold before ye."

Yet this answer brought anger to King Harald,

he wished to know more, to understand the words of the fool,

he wished for knowledge and for the lesson being taught to him,

given freely from one he saw as his lesser, to him his greater.

"Enough of your games you fool,

before my throne thee have come,

a glimpse of something you have seen.

You will tell me now! I say enough of your games, fool!"

King Harald said sternly,

"Tell me what you meant by your prophecy.

What awaits me in the wheat fields? What trials am I to face?"

the fool Afkel's gaze met King Harald's with his keen eyes,

for a moment, it seemed as if he would reveal the truth.

But then a subtle sadness washed over his face, his head shook.

"I cannot reveal the future to you, my lord,"

Afkel said in a servile tongue.

"For it has not yet come to pass.

The high fields hold secrets that only time will unveil.

What I can offer you is this:

wisdom lies not only in knowing what lies ahead

but also in how one sees that which is behind."

King Harald's frustration grew,

he slammed down his fists.

"Enough with your riddles! I demand clarity,

not more enigmatic words of my fool!"

And so the merriment came suddenly down

The courtiers gasped in surprise,

for they knew that Afkel was no simple fool

but often spoke in veiled truths. 

many came to worry for the future of the king,

And so King Harald threw out the fool,

from the hall of Holvika he went, destitute as he was

he came to become a hermit in the high mountains in the north,

yet his presence remained there at the court of Harald King,

and he stewed over his words, worsening his mood further.

In the winter of 437,

as the cold winds swept across the land,

King Harald summoned a great council.

The men of the hall, the Jarls, and the Hersir warriors of the King

did all sail on to Holvika's long hall

to hear the words of their king and lord.

Prowling stern, the white sea, from faraway Hvítrjördland

good Henig Jarl, son of Elferic, from the western land did come.

With him, he brought many gifts and splendid things

strong timber to give, sapped amber, and other things.

For his land was harsh and all knew this,

but filled with riches and spoils.

As he came, the old sea quaked, 

for Henig was a strong warrior of great fame and lineage

his blood ran hot, to the days of Hrista the war maiden.

in stride did he make his way to King Harald's hall

dumping before the king the goods of his land

and making pledges before the blood ring of King Harald. 

Next came Adelstein Viggissen, arriving on his longship

laden with arms and armor, adorned in gold and hard steel.

Adelstein came before the king and dropped low,

he offered then a great prize a dragon's tooth,

gathered from a hoard in the lands of the Prus.

King Harald bid him good tidings and welcomed him.

Next came Gedarik, Hindsola's Jarl and son of Gisulf

bearing down with good heading, he came to the King's hall

his dragon ship bounced up with the waves and crashed down hard

the Stormrider she was called, a majestic water steed if any could be owned

by the mud men of Hindsola's crab shores. 

Dark tidings brought forth Althrik Jarl's great ship

the greatest of the longships of the Jarls of the land

she was the Silent Serpent, and she wriggled and ebbed on the sea

like a monstrous sea beast she rode the waves hard and fast

like a great earthen wrym, she spread her sails and flew

Aboard her, Althrik Jarl did come, atop her dragon head he sat

dark was his hair and dark was his mind, 

for many knew the tales of his plunders in the eastern river lands

for he ran villages down, gathered their loot, and sold them into thralldom

His greed was known, as was his ambition for he alone was boldest among them.

Next came the old Einar Jarl, lord of the Northmarch

he was of the blood of a son of Hunaz the first father,

of the blood of Sigar, whom we call Tree-Feller.

Yet Einar Jarl was dispossessed of his northernmost land,

he came south and into the service of King Harald's father Eystein

and served him well for many years.

All grew to respect the wise man,

for in his younger days he was once a man of the Wolf

hungry for blood and prowling for war.

Old age had tempered his wrath and he came to be wise and respected

his words were cautious but many knew they were often true.

When he arrived in the hall of King Harald,

he was no more than seventy years old

and he would live only a few more.

Last of the great Jarls came King Harald's most beloved,

his cousin and brother in arms, noblest and most brave

Hemming Jarl, son of Sigurd the World Sailor, 

brother of King Harald's brother Eystein

boldest and bravest was he, whom we call the famed

for glory and blood would be his, though doom would befall him

high was his banner in the dusk of the setting sun

he waved the red raven banner, the banner of his father,

he carried it with him proud and his gaze was always high.

Hemming Jarl's ship was splendid, gilded, and large

she rode proud as he was, with a hull of bark from the white world

she did not bob up and down but rode the waves true.

As his ship came ashore, he disembarked with his crimson cloak

his splendid arms and armor were left aboard his dragon ship

and he made his way to the hall of his kinsman slow and with great ease.

Hemming Jarl's late arrival to the council angered some

but none dared question the Jarl, nor the King on this matter.

King Harald stood at the head of the hall,

his gaze high, looming and his eyes gleaming before his gathered guests.

The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows on his stern face

and he addressed the assembly of his lords and men.

"My lords, kinsmen, and trusted advisors," he began,

his strong voice resounded through the hall.

"I have called you to discuss a matter of great importance.

As you know, splendid have been my dreams of late

of green and gold, of new lands beyond the sea,

a great voyage to the lands of the South."

Many murmurs and whispers spread throughout the room,

many exchanged curious glances.

the gleaming of riches and splendorous glories danced in the mind,

of both great rewards and considerable risks.

"Our fathers once sailed across the sea to forge our kingdom here," Harald continued,

his gaze long and sweeping, went across the faces of those assembled.

"Now, it is our time to carve a new green land for ourselves.

The Salic lands beckon us with untold riches and weak rulers,

the land there is ripe and plentiful if we but take it."

The king paused and his words brought those to ponder them.

"But I shall not lead you blindly into dark waters.

I seek your minds, your wisdom, and your counsel.

Together, only together, shall we forge a new kingdom,

one that will stand strong against all our foes

and bring glory and prosperity to our people."

Some of the council members nodded in agreement,

others seemed hesitant.

The weight of the decision hung heavy in the air,

the room fell silent as King Harald awaited their response.

First to rise was Althrik Jarl who arose with speed,

Althrik stood and addressed the Thing,

"Ambition in your heart burns brightly,

my lands, oh kinsman, stand ready to follow you to Hilda's dance.

any foe we meet shall face our blades,

and crumble beneath our might."

Many knew Althrik held the king's ear,

for he was the King's kinsman by marriage.

Many of the younger Jarls and Hersir warriors nodded in agreement,

inspired by Althrik's words as he spoke so confidently.

They saw the opportunity for adventure, riches, and fame that lay ahead.

Amidst the sea of supportive faces,

Einar Jarl, old and grey-haired, remained seated,

his expression grim and he spoke to his own for a moment.

When Athrik Jarl had finished speaking,

Einar rose aching and slow,

"My King, I have served under your kinsmen's banner for many years,

I have seen the strength of our kingdom and the bravery of our people.

But the path ahead may not be one we can bear."

Elder Einar Jarl paused, his words hanging in the air.

"Adventure in new lands is a perilous endeavor,

it requires more than just the ambition of eager men."

Jarl Einar glanced sharply where Althrik sat and he continued

"Our minds must rest on the challenge that awaits us,

the unfamiliar terrain, and the foes who will oppose us."

Jarl Einar's words brought many to a hush.

The younger warriors listened intently,

realizing the wisdom in the old Jarl's cautionary words.

"Our kingdom is strong, stronger than all

and we have flourished well within our own borders,"

and so Einar Jarl lowered himself, his words filled the air for moments.

Yet so, Althrik Jarl rose again swiftly, 

not swayed by the caution of the old Jarl's words.

"Einar Jarl speaks of caution and fear.

challenge forges the best of men,

our iron is tempered by the crucible of mighty deeds,

shall we remain here, content and fat by his words,

or shall we make our names echo through the ages?"

So then did Hemming Jarl arise from his seat,

drawing the attention of the entire council.

Though young in age, his reputation was very well known.

"My king, I stand with Althrik Jarl in his words of this bold venture,"

Hemming proclaimed, his voice strong and his words unwavering.

"The spirit of adventure burns within our veins,

He cast a fierce gaze around the room,

meeting the eyes of each council member.

"We have been forged in the fires of countless battles,

our hearts know no fear and shall never deny a challenge.

Hemming turned to face Jarl Einar, his gaze unwavering.

"Einar Jarl's wisdom is great,

but our forefathers did not build this mighty kingdom

cowering within its borders like timid dogs.

To shy away from such danger is to insult the old fathers,

we will conquer the Southlands, or die,

by the spear or on it, by blood and iron!"

Hemming's vigor and powerful words resonated with the young Hersirs present.

As he paused, they arose, brandishing their blades

and chanting aloud in support of him.

Jarl Einar watched Hemming's speech with concern in his eyes,

seeing the powerful sway the young warrior held over the gathered.

Suddenly, a burst came from the great door

announcing the arrival of the far-off host of the Halsats

their lord Gundwin came forth, arriving in splendor. 

Horns blared and applause rang out,

the Southerners had arrived and their pledges were made.

Gundwin, the Halsat lord of the Meridona,

rose before the council with an air of authority

fierce determination in his eyes.

His deep voice carried on and made his experience known,

he spoke in support of King Harald's plan of invasion.

"Brothers of the North, esteemed Jarls, and noble King,"

Gundwin began, his voice sounding loud through the hall.

"I stand here today to offer my unwavering support to this grand endeavor.

We have known the toil of battle, the taste of victory,

never has bitter defeat been tasted.

Our paths have crossed in times of strife,

we have witnessed the valor of each other's warriors."

"Brothers of the North! Hear me now,

for the time of glory and conquest is upon us!"

Gundwin declared, his voice resonating with unbridled fervor.

"The Salic lands beckon us, ripe for the taking.

I have seen their lands, they cower and clamor like sheep.

The high ones themselves have chosen us,

the noble bloodhounds of the North,

for this moment, for this great venture!"

He paced before the council, his words ringing like battle cries,

"No longer shall we stand idly, content with our victories here!

My own lands were won by the sword, my kinsman wrestled them

from hands who did not deserve the riches it gave them.

The world trembles under our might, they whisper of our strength.

It is time for the valor of the North to spill forth, to glory and fame!"

With each word, Gundwin's voice grew stronger,

"Let our swords sing in the heat of battle!

Let our banners fly high, our enemies need cower

for the wrath of the Northmen comes for them!

Gundwin's eyes blazed with a fervent zeal,

"My lands and my oaths stand with you, Harald King,

we will follow you into the very heart of battle!

We shall spill the blood of our foes and claim their riches for ourselves!"

Then did he raised his sword high,

gleaming with the promise of glory,

"To victory! To conquest! Let the world know the might of the Northmen!

Onward, my brothers! Onward to the lands of the Salians!"

As the chanting subsided, the hall fell into a charged silence.

The Thing had spoken, and the die was cast.

This Great Northern Army, led by King Harald,

would venture forth to the lands of the Salians,

driven by the fiery passions of its warriors, to conquer or die.

With banners unfurled and swords at the ready,

they would face the unknown with unyielding courage,

urged on by the deeds of their forefathers and the promise of glory.

With the backing of the Thing he had called,

King Harald Hrósa unfurled the raven banner of war

and all the Northmen gathered around it.

As the storm from the North descended south,

the Salic rulers marched off to meet. 

There they went, as drum beat bid them south, 

For fifty-five days all of Salia met at Drestadt.

Bright flames lit the sky, marks of the Northern advance, 

Death followed the lords there, to meet in Drestadt's dark streets.

the rising dark forces of the land, 

which the vigor and spread of the Northmen bore, 

passed over the city like a cloud of misery. 

The horn blew and the drum sounded, 

as all of Salia made itself known in Drestadt. 

There they were, a dozen lords of a dozen nations, 

their banners fluttered with the breeze, 

their pride blanketed the anxieties faced by all. 

danger and distress linked them now together.

they who had shed each other's blood for many years, 

they whose swords dripped with the blood of brothers, 

whose hands were gifted with rings from sisters, 

all gathered there and argued often

for they did not wish to unite under any terms. 

At once then, their noble king called a rite

calling every brave man among them, 

and every valiant knight.

His voice rang out along the long hall,

"Who will follow where I go?"

Those valorous knights did bend their knees, 

making vows of faith and loyalty.

The Earl of Tesar then gave his word, 

"For this fair land, I will give my sword

for I do say it is not a price too steep, 

to sow death upon these invaders!"

at once cheers went up, as Earl Loren sat down, 

then King Friðrík rose with a hush.

"The enemy banner flutters on unchallenged,

we shall not do nothing, so I bid command be mine,

for I am unmatched in victories, before you all I say this. 

Our armies will meet them in the north and victory will be ours! 

For I am Friðrík, King of the Salians, God grants me absolute power!

I am King of the mighty land, I rule through God and he grants me victory!"

Then with triumph, they acclaimed him, shouting aloud with their blades drawn, 

they beat their fists into the tables before them

King Friðrík stirred in them a war lust and they heard the horn of war,

rallied and united, at once, they rode out of the Southlands

donned in mighty steeds and armor.

King Friðrík at a distance trailed by his faithful warriors, 

All of Salia now passed by canyons, rocks, and boulders.

As they marched, the Salic peasant gleamed with pride, 

emerging from beneath rocks and on the trails of the land, 

they saw their great army march north to make battle there. 

Many shouts were heard, 

"Forward against the enemy!

Kill the Northman! this is your mother's prayer,

Kill the Northman! this is the cry of our Salic earth where he dares to tread.

Death to the Northern invader!"

And so Great Salia marched with her sons, 

all saw the army kicking dust that blotted the sky, 

all saw the army advance north to meet their invading foe. 

they sang songs of victory but as they marched

an army from Heskia rode out to meet the Northern invader, 

thus was the first battle fought. 

The sea winds wail, now the clashing blades have come

the shores now red-painted and full of grime.

Earl Karstein, lord of Morial, rushed then to relieve it.

He rode so stout and bold to the fray

The rising shield of his homeland.

Proud King Harald, the North's hard ruler commanded,

charge forth with sword in hand,

reap death on those before you.

Let vengeance be your song,

let steel guide the Northman's fury. 

Yet so, Earl Karstein's iron defense held,

a wall of shields there withstood them. 

steel will defended Rauðaborg now.

Arrow's flight, shields dance with sword's embrace,

the valor of warriors ready to prove their mettle. 

King Harald, swaying with pride, strides forth,

gleaming in speckled gold arms and armor

he fights through the ranks, leading his men.

Axes whirl, spears are shaken, and banners rise,

As Northmen advance and cut down those before them. 

Sea winds roar far off, as blades clash and ring,

Crimson shores pour forth the warriors of Hunaz's race.

Earl Karstein, vigorous and defiant will not yield,

yet so the battle is slipping from him as he

throws himself at the pride of the North unafraid. 

Karstein's men charged now the Northern lines

Their steeds shone out like a faraway lighthouse

Their charge sounded then like thunder's roll.

Knights arrayed, banners high, armor gleams,

Their deeds bring them eternal honor.

Valor burned in their eyes,

and their swords were waved high and proud.

A cresting wave of gallant might

came like a hurled boulder there they went,

charging the boar's head of the Northmen's line.

Harald Grensk, his axe bright with fire,

Led the defense there among his warriors.

there at his side, he fought and threw back the charge

The blades of the Heskians bounced off northern shields.

Hemming Jarl's blade danced in the air,

his foes fell fast beneath his glare.

His heart aflame, he throws himself at the enemy

They fall beneath him, bowing low forever.

The proud Earl falls, thrown from his third horse and into the mud

he fights on for a time, but arrows and blades leave their mark,

his valor is bad tasting, his deeds will not win the day. 

King Harald comes before him as he kneels, 

"Amidst bright yellow fields shall your bane come, 

you defeat me today but victory will elude you."

With a swing of his sword, King Harald slays the earl, 

their leader felled, the Heskians depart in loose order.

Their comrades left upon the field for crows and foxes,

who pick apart their arms, tear at their armor,

and many prizes are taken from them. 

They who remain march south

to meet King Friðrík who commands a great host. 

All feel alive now, after the first fray

As earth comes up and all see this green land of the South,

Given to them by their might, their steel, and glory.

By blow and blade, they have claimed this place.

Such a rich and noble land now given to them,

The sons of the North now spread like locusts,

Plundering and looting as they go, wealth comes to them.

Yet a terror marches North to meet them,

Friðrík King comes and he will not spare them.

They who plundered his lands and reaped so.

For he was king, king of this great land and lord of its people

With one voice they acclaimed him king of the land

and now he rode hard and swiftly to defend it.

To the castle of Kargau he went and dispersed a garrison of warriors,

The way forward was clear now of all,

and so, the Salians advanced further and further.

See how powerful the Salians are,

When they squabble so little and join hands.

Fighting for their land and marching for their god.

How their drums beat, how their trumpets rang,

On the road to Rauðaborg they marched.

Dirt kicked up and reached the heavens above,

Quaking and shaking upon the upheaval of earth.

While the black Salians did rise from the south,

The Northmen did nothing but watch as their number came,

Thrusting spears at babes in the cradle, burning stocks and houses.

How was this the best of Hunaz’s house, of the ilk of great Haakon King?

None thought to contest the march coming to them,

All prayed for battle to come soon for the waiting was long.

When the din of battle finally dimmed,

A forlorn peace came over the land.

King Harald made camp atop a small hill called the Noremark.

There his great herd of men and animals rested themselves,

There the army looked on from the heights of the hill.

While others were away making merriment,

Playing with the prizes of their great victory,

Harald Grensk sat beside the fire, his weapon sharp,

He made no sound, as the clanking and clamoring King Harald arrived.

“Hail Grensk, do you find gold or solace in the fire before you?”

King Harald’s jest was made clear, and a snicker came from Grensk,

At once, the King sat beside the Hersir, with a horn of ale.

“Aye sire, 'tis best to rest with a clear mind before battle.”

Hearing the reply from Grensk to his liege, King Harald responded.

“So then, has this respite prepared you for the battle come morn?”

Grensk did not answer, he sat still then, gazing into the fire before them.

“I cannot reckon one can be truly ready for battle,

For battle is not natural to a man before he sees it come before him.”

King Harald scoffed at this,

“Battle is the great test of men,

how can one who has heard its din so many times disrespect it so?”

At this, Grensk replied to the King,

“It is because I have heard its din that I see it as I do.”

At this, King Harald rose up quickly and said to his Hersir,

“Does the fray not bare the soul, does it not test a man’s mettle.

His very essence tested, is it not where he discovers who he is?”

Grensk then spoke to his king, these final words.

“My king, I fear you may be correct,

but I fear who a man becomes once he knows what he is,

When bloodlust consumes, I fear one controlled by it is no longer a man.”

At this, King Harald and Harald Grensk left on another’s company,

Each returned to what they had done before,

But each pondered long and hard over the words of the other,

For there was wisdom in the words of both.

Just as Harald Grensk told the King,

Battle would come the next morning.

The army of the Salians now had come,

As they had liberated each town taken by the Northmen,

And in accordance with this,

King Harald marched out from the town of Rauðaborg

With all the host of his warriors, there to meet the Salic king Friðrík.

Each host marched, giving chase where they believed the other to be,

Hours after the Northmen had breakfasted,

they saw the far-off glint of the Salic helms marching in rows.

King Harald had ordered the trumpets to sound the order to gather and march.

He divided his army and placed his commanders at their heads.

The morning weather was splendid, with the warm sun overhead,

Many of the soldiers carried their armor over their backs,

only their helms sat atop their heads.

There they went with their shields, spears, and girt with swords.

Many of their number had bows and arrows,

Many among them marched carefree and unafraid.

Yet as they approached,

they saw the glint of the Salian’s arms and armor,

They could see the cloud of dirt.

raised by the hooves of the Salic horses,

They could see the gleam of their stout shields.

and their shimmering white mail coats.

King Harald halted the army,

He summoned his commanders to him,

Before him were Hemming, Athrik, Henig, Adelstein, Gedarik, and Gundwin.

In meeting with his commanders, King Harald drew lines of battle.

He grouped his men together into a great herd,

He bid Hemming Hóarr to form a thin line before them,

The wings then were ordered to be a few paces behind the center,

And before all, King Harald sent out the vanguard under Sigi Warwolf.

Friðrík King arrayed similarly, yet he held many more archers than the Northmen.

Along with him was a great array of the Southern cavalry,

strong warriors clad in thick armor and with lances of steel

their helms were plummed and ornate

and before all, they rode proudly among the ranks.

Time gave uneasiness to the soldiers,

The Salic king had come to them upon that field,

There at this part of his land.

Now standing proud and stout,

Ready for the battle to come,

The Northmen stood ready to meet victory or death.

As the morning mist left the land, they spied each other clearly,

So did King Harald command his Hirdsmen forward to take the wheatfield,

So go forth, Sigi Warwolf, with a hundred men clamoring in armor,

To the field of wheat, awaiting the charge of the Salic men.

And long did they stand there, facing the enemy unbending.

Arrows fell from above, like fruit from shaken tree,

High was the shield raised, they their bite seeped through,

Crimson blood tainted wheat, and thus they were overcome.

Vaka Járn! Vaka Járn! The iron Northmen awaken,

Donned in mail and helm, they strode forth prideful and valiant

King Harald, before his shield wall, hewed at men before him.

His steel blade tore and bit at all before him,

Loud was the roar of battle and wide was its call.

Set sword against the enemy, set lance against shield, axe upon helm!

Shame on the fleeing man, shame on him not roused by battle.

Proud King Harald rendered men low, dead knelt before him.

Ask well the South man if he doubts the battle-fury of the Northmen!

Vaka Járn! Vaka Járn! Shed the blood of the Salic man and drink it well!

It is said that King Harald Eysteinssen composed this stanza,

"We never kneel in war

before the rage of battle,

we meet fury and steel,

behind strength and honor.

By my honorable blood,

I carry my head high into battle,

to spy arrow fire and sword coming down,

but also to see well the sun on my skin."

As the roar of battle rose, so too did it fall away quickly and a parlay came,

King Harald rode to the field to meet with the men of King Friðrík.

One of the riders of the Salic king did speak at once,

“Is the King of the North here? Is Harald Eysteinssen here in the army?”

King Harald stepped forth, “Can those slain by my blade deny I was here?”

Then, another rider said, “King Friðrík sends a greeting to thee,

and applauds thee for a battle well fought.

My king is prepared to offer the good King all he has gained,

If he ceases war at once and returns hostages of my liege’s cities.”

King Harald replied, “This is an offer he should have given me sooner,

When victory was so far where it is now so near.

If this offer were made sooner, many a man who is now dead would still breathe,

And your king’s lands would be in a much better state.

What are you prepared to offer me, more than what you have previously?”

At once, the riders of King Friðrík became disgusted,

They did not speak for moments

and conversed quietly among their own before they spoke.

“King Friðrík will offer no more to you,

no more than seven feet of good Salic ground,

or as much can fit a man of your size.”

At these words, King Harald sent the riders away,

telling them to prepare once more for battle.

Then Lord Gundwin did speak “Those men came so close to our lines,

They should not have been allowed to return; their words were foul.”

King Harald replied to his companion, “Tis not good to kill a man before meeting him,

I would rather have it that they were my murderers than I theirs.”

At this, King Harald’s retinue returned to the army,

and fighting once again commenced.

Then did the full force of the Northmen go,

Forward into battle against blue blades.

Helms glittered in the hot sun,

Before a storm of weapons

Those before it crouched behind shields.

All saw now, swords sought out

To shatter the skulls of doomed warriors.

King Harald fought now, sword gripped with two hands

The dance rumbled on and many fell in the fury of battle.

The Salian cavalry did charge on

and the Northmen met it without flinching.

Yet the Salians shot arrows behind them as they fled,

And the army grew frustrated as King Harald rallied a charge.

The valor of the Northmen was laid forth

Iola’s king never wavered in the melee,

The North’s warriors watched on,

as blood dripped from the King’s sword,

and on he went, cutting down his enemies.

Yet as they went, the Salic horses circled around them,

The Southerners rode them down from all sides,

Showering them with spears and arrows.

The banner of the burning sun came before them,

The golden flame of the Salics, their king held it aloft.

With sword raised, the Salians rode forth.

the ironhearted Salic king hewed and hacked at the lanes of the Northmen.

Arrow fell and men died, sword swung and men died, spears pierced the side.

From the long lance of King Friðrík, fire sprang out, searing hot,

Burning away the ranks of the Northmen.

Slaughter rang out along the wheat field, the Salics felled a great number.

Their blades dripped with blood, their eyes mad and crazed.

They overcame the army, ran through the ranks, and scattered the proud.

Heja, Heja, Heja laughed the Salic riders

Their steeds sounded like thunder in the mountains,

Their greeting was steel and death.

King Harald fought on, but was slashed across the face,

In humiliation and duress, King Harald fled away.

Before the arms of the Salians he fled, by direction of his Hird, cowards.

Yet so many remained, pitted to die so far from home.

Under the warm sun, arrows fell like rain, to the chest of Athrikr Jarl dead.

T’was the bane of Northmen, for many fell by their bite.

Yet clutching the handle of the sword, Hemming Jarl refused to die,

“King Harald has deserted us, we are all imperiled!”

It was an evil moment, for the North’s king ran far

Gold-inlaid weapons brought death to so many northern sons.

All of the King’s best warriors,

Preferred to die then and there rather than flee.

To die by the bite of a blade is the pleasure of the Northman,

To share the fate of the fallen, rather than beg for mercy.

Gladly still did the North’s sons battle,

The dance turned to madness,

and the Northmen’s line came to form a ring.

At its center was Hemming Hóarr, commanding his men.

Yet King Friðrík’s sturdy warriors,

lay them under their hard blades

the grey carrion birds above,

feasted well on Northern flesh.

The golden-helmed Salics were singing,

Upon mounted horses, they leaped with joy

at the spoils of the Northmen’s fallen army.

The sound of their riding boots could be heard miles away.

Through twelve miles of forest, they rode quickly,

to throw away the garrison of the Northmen at Rauðaborg.

Far off, King Harald cried and screamed but he fled.

On the road to the ships, he found a cart driver wearing a heavy coat.

As the king had become cold from lost blood,

He said,

“Would you sell me your coat, good man?”

Yet the driver said

 “not to you, I can tell from your speech

you are a Northman and one who came through here.”

The king said,

“If I were a Northman, what would you do?”

The cart driver said,

“If you were a man from the North,

I would try to kill you, yet I have no weapon on me.”

“Then since you cannot kill me, why should I not see if I can kill you?”

At once, King Harald raised himself up, slew the man and took his coat.

While others slept quietly,

A rider went on and rode a bit further.

When the bells of the city were heard

He cried out in a panic,

For he thought himself caught.

Riding faster and faster, till he came upon sand,

He watched on as the ships of the north slinked away,

One last time, they sounded a horn and disappeared.

Friðrík himself crossed over the lines,

Reddening his blade in Northman blood.

Yet noble Hemming Hóarr took a while to be slain,

A braver northern lord than Hemming Jarl

may never be seen again on this earth.

As Hemming was slashed, in the throat by blades.

He clutched hard the handle of his sword.

Yet by his example, it is proven,

that a brave heart is half a victory

Arrow to the eye, Hemming Jarl did die.

Far off, far away, perched atop his godly throne

Ranir the lord of all did cry out and speak

“Bring him here, the North’s noblest son.”

So then did he send his messengers to rush to the field,

Spiriting away brave Hemming to the long hall.

Fresh from the battlefield came in,

Dripping blood, the Northmen’s champion.

Great Ranir spoke then,

“I reckon, ‘tis harsh, and bodes further ill

To take my son from the field today,

Snatched from victory thusly!”

But Great Ranir consoled brave Hemming,

“Worry less, see the joy my fair hall brings,

To you, my bravest and my boldest son!”

And the attending Hermund, servant of his lord

did say to the lost Hemming,

“Eight fathers here welcome thee to the long hall,

Welcoming thee to Ranirsalla’s cheer,

To drain the cup and fight repeat.”

Quoth the stout Hemming,

“Tis good I shall find my gear here,

My sword, my helm, my mail coat, and my ax and spear

Still at hand they are, for we must remain true to our good friends.”

For the gods shone down pride at their entrance, 

for they were deemed worthy, they who had come before,

for all would have a place at the side of the gods,

who had the glory and honor of they,

victory for the brave and honored name,

and fame to pass their long death sleep.

They had come from their lands afar, to a field to die.

the long dunes of the Dread Queen's hall would not see them,

the fingers of the Southland could not clasp them forever,

do not ask me where they dwell, for many are there still

their swords blunted, their shields splintered, their armor rusted. 

Ask the Southland what happened to them, for it alone knows

they came down with cheers and acclaim, now the gulls and crows cry. 

They passed through roaring falls, and passed over dens and fields,

they shall never walk again, for they are long away. 

Lo' there brother, brave brother take your place,

eternally high, drinking fame and glory's fill, 

here we remain, the brave still alive,

we will see you soon, take our place at your side,

where the brave shall live forever on.

The eagle now lay dead, dead, rotten, and forgotten

Carrion for the raven and crow upon battle’s field.

The pride of the Iron North laid low, humbled forever,

The grip of power faded, turned to the heat of the land away,

Atop the steeds and deeds of the Salic chosen,

Not the iron and spit of the Northmen.

Never again did iron and steel win such glory as long ago.

Gold and silver sprung forth, shadowing steel and strength,

Long and hard was the fall of the North, her wolves to dogs

Abandoning the deeds of their forefathers, the frost dogs slinked away.

Yet there they were, resting eternally still,

Upon that wheat field, they do so say

remember us, their bodies uncovered and unmoving.

Remember us, for now, we cannot, for we are bloodied and dead.

Now here do we lie on soiled dirt, so far from home.

No mound graces our bodies, no stones raised, no peace in enemy land.

Yet laughing did we die, famed deed done, glory and death.

Warriors take their far ride to paradise, blade in hand and honor written.

To the long halls of our father do we go, unashamed.

Should any soul come across that hallowed place,

Upon the wind and the rock, all our voices shall whisper but this,

Here did we stand, sons of the North, unafraid of death,

Go tell our countrymen, here we rest now, by our law do we lie.

Yet all would not be well, for King Harald as he returned home,

News did reach those behind, of the disaster far south.

And as Harald had left his cousin there in his city,

Many raised the boy up and announced him king.

And as King Harald departed from his ship,

The warrior king of Holvik’s hall

so close to the lands of his forefathers and their tombs,

Stubbornly defended his birthright,

From the clawing hands of those who wished to seize it from him.

Yet Harald had few battles in him before departing,

And even fewer upon returning.

The men around young Knut did raise the rest of the men

Those who did not go with the army to the south.

And King Harald had few men of his own,

Fewer still worth their weight in a fight.

King Harald sailed his way to the Bay of Onsund,

To the cape did chase Knut’s fleet,

Their gold-beaked warships plowed the waves.

Ploughing deep in the furrows,

To the ocean to the west of the town of Hillend

The sea-sprayed dogs quivered in sight of Knut’s fleet.

Yet oath-keeping Knut did not wish his cousin’s end

But King Harald wished doom on his betrayers.

Sea spikes along the coast,

The warships carved their way across the waves.

Sailing on to this royal meeting,

Sweyn, son of Thenn, Jarl of Lodland

Sailed on to combat the host of the King,

With a host of his proud warriors in tow.

Swift and North, they sailed,

Gales lashing at their bark hulls.

Tears in the ocean masked nothing of the sad affair.

Jarl Sweyn’s warriors rose to fight,

Atop planks and ships, they found the king’s dragon boats.

Yet even as the Lodlanders came to them,

Many of Jarl Sweyn's men were cut down

For King Harald was furious over their betrayal

And wished to see them at the bottom of the sea.

As blood seeped into the sea,

A spear was thrown through the man carrying the royal banner,

The king raised a war cry and rushed to raise his standard

and was spotted by those ships rows over.

Bowstrings touched the tail of arrows,

The Lodlanders spied a chance to slay the king.

No poet can with correct justice,

describe the royal betrayal of Jarl Sweyn.

Thus, by words now can he be punished,

though he sits now in the pits with the damned

this is not enough, for in life he was not given his due.

Flames and blood announced the commencement,

of Knut Olafssen's crowning in Holvik

His cousin’s body flung into the sea,

Harald the Proud fell with his ship

To the bottom of the sea, he went.

Vile men flaunt the crimson blood on their palms

A shield from blame and from reprisal

But all could still see doom awaited Harald

The day he fled the Salic field.

With greedy mouths and fingers, they did so rend,

The right crown from King Harald.

With frenzied hands, they stained the honor

Of fair Holvik and of just Knut,

Who wished his kinsman off to a fair afterlife.

The warrior king Harald,

Won many victories for his nation

Yet died alone aboard his ship,

Because he fled the field of Wiezenfach.

Now I do so fear, that our iron blood died with him then

For as fish and crab ate his body,

So too did wolves and foxes rip apart our lands.