The Lay of Campaign
The days lengthen,
Warriors gather,
The jarl has sent,
The call to action.
All must ensure,
Their farms are cared for,
Men will not see,
Their steads until autumn.
Each must carry,
Flint and steel,
Oiled clothing,
Spare boots.
Many the man,
Lost to the line,
Cold is a worse foe,
Than mail clad huscarls.
A warm cloak,
Might save life,
A clean shirt,
Can make men proud.
Great hardships,
Can be endured,
With the aid,
Of small comforts.
The jarl must see,
To the needs of many,
Often they think,
Nothing wise.
Trusted men,
Must make the camp,
See to sentries,
And firewood.
The jarl must see,
To the needs of many,
Who think of nothing,
Beyond their next meal.
Food is a weapon,
When denied,
Without strength,
The hearth cannot fight.
The silent forest,
Stagnant water,
Long grass,
In a riverside meadow.
Trust not these things,
For in them hide,
Destruction,
For the healthy army.
The fool rushes,
To set up his tent,
He doesn’t discover,
The way of the wind.
Smoke and rain,
Drench his tent,
In the morning,
He hasn’t slept.
On campaign,
Men forget,
Think nothing of sleeping,
Wearing their boots.
The jarl must see,
This is not so,
A man with sick feet,
Cannot fight.
Do not sneer,
And remove women,
They cause fights,
But make men happy.
Who will keep,
Fires burning,
When the army,
Is out raiding?
In the camp,
Men must drink,
To forget the hardships,
Of campaign.
Too much drink,
Addles the wit,
In the morning,
Wise men are fools.
In the camp,
Men must drink,
Laughter rings,
Through the tents.
In the morning,
Men are slow,
Sober men,
Should guard the camp.
Once I saw,
A sleeping camp,
The war leader,
Blew the horn.
Charging we stuck,
Spears in sentries,
Our foes were killed,
We took the booty.
Night falls,
The enemy know,
Twinkling fires,
Show the campsite.
The wise jarl,
Leaves fires burning,
Moves the camp,
In the dead of night.
March in the morning,
Before the sun,
Cripples the strength,
With oppressive heat,
A camp made,
When darkness falls,
Is a camp made,
For the enemy’s pleasure.
March in the morning,
Before the hard heat,
Make the camp,
Early not late.
Men will find,
Dry firewood,
Draw their water,
Husband their strength.
Fight in the morning;
After good sleep,
Men will be eager,
With full stomachs.
Fight in the evening,
When outnumbered,
Darkness will cover,
Flight from the foe.
Attack at dawn,
If the foe is unwary,
He will be dead,
Before he’s awake.
Attack at dawn,
The enemy will be,
Caught without food,
For the length of the day.
The jarl must see,
Calm maintained,
In camp rumours,
Spread like disease.
The man who panics,
When he tells what he’s seen,
Spreads disorder,
The army suffers.
The jarl must see,
Calm maintained,
In camp rumours,
Are devoured like food.
Men respect,
And feel assured,
When the jarl,
Spreads serenity.
Men tire,
Of each other,
Firm friends,
Soon will fight.
The jarl must find,
Entertainment,
Diverted men,
Forget dissention.
Loyal men,
Maintain humour,
A good word,
Raises spirits.
Loyal men,
Must tell the jarl,
If the army,
Is sickening.
The wise jarl knows,
A little booty,
Keeps the army,
Hungry for more.
Sated men,
Will not seek,
The next reward,
To line their purse.
Shattered foes,
Boasting hearth men,
Young men sick,
With ale illness,
Soaking feet,
Badly cooked food,
All are found,
On campaign
Many times,
I have travelled,
I’ve sat around,
Many fires.
Sickness is,
Ever present,
Hardest is to keep,
The army fighting fit.
Ormstunga