Lancelot And Skidvar The Dane

'Twas on the morn of green Ostara's feast
That came a warrior, not amongst the least,
From Denmark, far across the silver ocean,
Now, by treachery and great commotion
Forced to flee in shame and there to strand
Upon the rocky shores of Celtic land;
For he was caught in such a dreadful gale
That all manoeuvring round the cliffs did fail
And that his drakar, bouncing on the rocks,
Was wrecked through savage winds and fatal shocks.
Of all his men who were from Denmark banished,
All but three and twenty soldiers vanished;
Yearning for Valhalla, so they fell
A prey to Njord and went to Nifflehel,
Whereas the few survivors of the band
Could find good shelter in King Arthur's land.
Through destiny or just by chance, no more,
'Twas fortunate that there they reached the shore
Where many fighters came, not far at all
From mighty Camelot or Arthur's Hall.
The Viking leader, Skidvar Skaldr named,
A skald or singer and a hero famed,
Now, guided by the guardians of the King,
On entering the Hall did start to sing.
He used to seek some truth beheld in runes
And to compose his song in fancy tunes,
Embellishing his deeds and all his glory,
Casting colours on a simple story.
Yet, his foreign tongue it must have been,
That made a fair impression on the Queen;
For when his final sounds away had died,
Her pretty lips in love-commotion sighed
And in her bosom soft and royal-hearted,
New-found rhythms soft emotions started.
She looked into the wily warlord's face,
Beheld her King, and then gave sign in grace;
So Skidvar spoke, "Good King, fair Queen, I now,
Because of tidings tragical, shall bow
For you and yours, together with my thanes.
We come from overseas and, though we're Danes,
We like to join the famous Table Round
And love to live upon thy Celtic ground.
Lost is our ship that's wrecked on cliff and rock
And so our wealth is gone with all our stock;
This was our fate, no gifts we have to bring,
Yet that is why I tried for ye to sing.
If you show mercy to my wounded men,
Full glory I shall spread beyond your ken,
For as you see, some talents I have earned
And years for these in dilligence I've learned."
But then, through sorrows sage and silver-haired,
The Celtic King all violently declared,
"Young Danish bard, how dost thou think of me,
To search my Hall, where christianity
Is higher then the King and Queen themselves,
While thou believ'st in giants, trolls, and elves!
I know those gods that rule thy pagan lands,
And curse the lores for which thy Odin stands;
Now hence! Just hie thee from this Hall,
Before the executioner I call,
Or here renounce and shun thy pagan god
To swear allegiance to the holy rod!"
The fearless warlord, by his tone surprised,
Had never thought and never had surmised
To find the King so ruthless and severe,
But now he quoth, "Ye took away my spear
When entering thy Hall, now give it back
And let me show thy tribe, how I'll attack
Each one of ye who dares me to a fight.
Beware the man who robs me of that right,
Or mocks with me, with mine, or with my gods;
I can't replace these with a bunch of rods!
And if thou, King, thyself a christian namhst,
Thou wouldst mercy show, before thou blamhst
Me and mine for fealty to our lore.
O, we are doomed, thus wrecked upon thy shore!
I thought it was a custom to receive
Full grace by winning duels, and to leave
The judgement to the mercy of thy Lord,
Well bring my spear and hand me back my sword!"
And with these words his eyes were casting lightning,
Thunder cracked his voice, and muscles tight'ning
Round his naked neck and heavy fists
Now showed the strength that held his solid wrists;
So Arthur's thanes, who'd gathered in the Hall,
Had formed about the Danes a double wall
Or sat at Cam'lot's famous Table Round
If they had noble blood or glory found.
They trembled on their knees: this foreign guest,
Outnumbered ten to one and like the rest
Of Danish swordsmen fatigued and unarmed,
Seemed now to hold their hearts through magic charmed.
Only a few were brave enough to see
The pagan prophet in the eye just three!
King Arthur, Lancelot and Gawain brave.
To all the other warlords fear now gave
A feeling cold or shiver up their spine,
Although the Table Round had named them fine:
Sad Tristram, Bedevere, Pinel, Mador,
Young Percival, Blamor, King Pellinore,
King Lot, King Anguish, Pelles, Ban,
King Royance, Lionel, Balyn, and Balan,
Gareth, Gaheris, Marholt, Agrevaine,
Patrice, Lamorak, Hector, and Yvain,
Bleoberis, Blamour, Lavaine, and Tor,
Geraint, Hontslake, Bors, and Sagremor,
False Mordred, Galahad, and tricksy Keye,...
So many kings and warriors that day,
Who, famed for courage and dexterity,
In shame there tried the stranger's looks to flee!
King Arthur, by the fighter's words enraged,
Though through the years with mickle wisdom aged,
Had first turned pale and then a sudden red
As Skidvar's final words his mouth had fled.
Yet, ere he could pronounce a single word,
The Queen's sweet voice throughout the Hall was heard,
"So boldly thou just sung and spoke, young blade,
That I'd regret it if thy songs should fade
And nevermore be harped inside this Hall;
Therefore, now fight my bravest blade of all,
To see if thy two arms are just as strong
As thou hast claimed them in thy speech and song;
And if 'tis true, when victory thus proved,
Then all thy charges be from ye removed.
Thou thus shalt earn thy fame on Arthur's seat
As leader of thy Danes; but in defeat,
You, blades, as you in Denmark keep still slaves,
Shalt live here cleaning stables with my knaves."
"Queen Guinevere", he said, "my songs will say
That thou art lovely like the birds of May,
As wise a Queen as ever lived before,
A Queen of legends equalled nevermore!"
The troubled King had murmured his consent,
But now a happy thought made him content,
"Come, fight with me, and taste some Celtic steel,
My keen Excalibur will make thee kneel!"
But then the Queen, "O, no, my King, I see
Thou yearnst to fight, but Lancelot 'tmust be,
Who strikes this skald; he is our champion great,
And thou art needed here to rule thy state;
These days the Kingdom needs thee as a King,
Some fatal wound calamity would bring!"
Thus Lancelot did rise before his Queen;
He knew that love for him it must have been,
That gave him chance more status to obtain.
Yea! through these feats he would much glory gain
To bring him closer to the royal throne,
So that he once could make the Queen his own.
Now all stood up and left the royal Hall,
While horns and trumpets shrilly blew to call
The noble lords and ladies to the field,
Where thus the two their lethal arms would wield.
King Arthur asked what weapons they would use
And Lancelot let his opponent choose,
But Skidvar there to him in answer said,
"As here I stand, unrested and unfed,
Thus shall I fight with spear and sword thy force,
And having shield and mail, I'll need no horse;
To thee I leave what weapons thou wilt pick
And take a horse if that might do the trick!"
A murmur now arose amongst the "blades",
While ladies sighed together with their maids,
But Lancelot now let the fight begin;
With equal arms he thought this feat to win.
And so they met... They circled round to gore
Or strike, like with a quarterstaff, to floor
The other with their spears; in vain they feeled,
Thus searching for a spot beside the shield;
And then fierce Lancelot his spear did trust,
Yet nicking Skidvar's shield it met with dust.
Now Skidvar, honest as us tells his name,
Could stab him, yet refused, because the shame
In such a victory had no reward.
He waited till his foe had drawn his sword,
Before he placed the spear into the hand
That held his shield, then drew his blade all grand,
And started thus on Lancelot to strike,
While often stabbing with his silver spike.
But now with double might the blades were wielded,
Blows and thrusts with every movement shielded;
Savage was their fight, and many sparks
Of shields there on the ground had left their marks,
Until at once, as Skidvar's spear was wielded,
Lancelot went down... He thus had yielded
To the Danish foe, who heaved his sword
Above his head, but then the peace restored
By throwing down his weapons to the ground.
And then again did mighty trumpets sound
To call the duel's end. Then Skidvar spoke
And with his words the voice of Silence broke,
"Here lies thy champion, beaten in fair fight,
Now yielded to my weapons and my might.
I will admit that he was strong and fast,
But still his body to the ground I cast;
Thy Lancelot, who always won before,
He now for mickle time will lance no more!"
The Queen, who in this fight had paled,
Now tried to utter words, but when that failed,
A blush appeared upon her lovely cheeks,
Alike a blooming rose that sunlight seeks.
And when these flowers on her face did fade,
At last she muttered, "Thou didst well, my blade,
To spare our Lancelot his life, for he
Is fine a man, and now he'll fight for ye.
Thou now hast earned a chair inside our Hall,
And if sometime, the urge might ye befall
To search your homeland back across the ocean,
Then my heart would weep with sad emotion,
But we'll love to bring ye oversees,
And I assure thee that my King agrees."
Indeed King Arthur now had gained control
Over the hate that once had stained his role
Of gentle King as legends now depict him;
And his Queen would every time conflict him
With the tidings of that shameful day,
If he refused her counsel to obey.
The Danes would many years in Cam'lot roam,
Until the day had come they left for home,
Where they would find the peace restored again
And Skidvar could replace his sword with pen;
There to the glory of the Queen he'd sing,
Of Celtic land, and of its famous King.

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