he summer rose, the summer fell
With good report of Denmark's wars.
And Norway fared surpassing well
In raids upon the Celtic shores.

The winter passed, the spring arrived,
The whale-road opened once again.
With summer, Norway was deprived,
Of seven hundred fighting men.

Toward the Danish shore they rode
On water-horses' rolling strides
To sit in Haakon's fair abode
And greet him by the tableside.

As Signar rode upon the seas,
His heart rose with each passing swell.
The briskly blowing after-breeze
Ensured Norwegians would not dwell

But few days on the heaving paths
Where water horses' legs are plied.
The sea-god, Njord, was free of wrath
At those who heaved upon his tides.

But Thorvald held a sullen mood
As Denmark closed the space between.
His words were scant, his eyes wore hoods,
And Signar marked King Thorvald's mien.

"My king," the warrior asked his lord,
"What keeps you distant from your men?
The land that Norway sails toward
Holds allies and your boyhood friends."

"There's more than allies that I see,"
The king replied, "But one small thing.
I sense a time draws near to me,
That comes to commoner and king."

"I do not trace your words' true course,"
The young man said. "What is this time?
Please tell me, what can be the source
Of small things that befoul your mind?"

Then Thorvald laughed and Signar's words.
"As young as you are, still you ought
To know what I have just inferred.
Does nothing ever cloud your thoughts?

"Your prowess in the feats of arms
Belies your youthful, eighteen years.
'Tis well that nothing ever harms
The minds of men who wear no beards.

"For those, to whom youth still holds sway,
Think not upon the doleful trace
That men must follow in their day
Ere finding their eternal place.

"But when I counted 'mongst the young,
I sought the knowledge hardest won.
I wished to count myself among
Those men who know things yet to come.

"'Tis hard to hearken to the past,
The present presses urgently,
But those who pierce the murky cast
Of flowing streams of what will be

"Are hard oppressed by what's within.
I do not care to close my eyes.
I neither fail to wish I'd been
A hero that the gods had prized.

"So now, as I am in my prime,
I think as one three times my age
Upon the ever-pressing time
When life exacts its final wage.

"Do not concern yourself with this
For, Signar, muddy waters tell
So little of the deep abyss
E'en to the man who knows it well."

Though Signar felt a troubled mind
He spoke no further to his friend
About the thoughts his words entwined
Within, and what they may portend.

The fleet sailed on the southern course
And reached the shores of Haakon's land.
They rowed each mighty water-horse
Upon the welcome, Danish sand.

As Norway's men shored up their barks,
They noted that no Danes drew nigh.
"What meaning can this slight impart?"
The men asked Thorvald. He replied,

"Arm well now, men. We cannot waste
A moment thinking this is some mere prank.
Now hurry men! We must make haste
To gird ourselves and form our ranks.

"This slight bodes ill for Haakon's state,
He'd not leave guests unwelcomed so.
I hope we've not arrived too late
To help the Danes against their foes.

Their shining arms were quickly donned.
The columns formed were Norway's best.
Thus, Thorvald's war-host stood upon
The tidal verge, twelve shields abreast.

As Sol traversed the midday's height,
The men stood firm on Denmark's coast.
Then, coming into Thorvald's sight,
A single horse approached the host.

The rider was Liudegast.
No greeting party came behind.
King Thorvald read the prince's cast
As one with much upon his mind.

A lesser man might turn and flee
Norwegian men in war-array
When they were new allied, but he,
Liudegast, was undismayed.

"Liudegast," King Thorvald said,
We must not dally on your shore.
We'll take our meat and take our bread
Then join the Danes on paths to war!"