The Lay of War
Well set, the man,
Strong in heart,
He comes to battle,
Sure in victory.
Many the traps,
His foe sets:
Without wisdom,
The jarl is lost.
A man must need,
Shield companions,
Loyal in the hall,
Loyal in line.
Check well the hearts,
Of companions,
Often life,
Depends on loyalty.
The timid man,
Who will not speak,
Will not fight well,
In the press.
The clever man,
Picks his friends,
From the bold,
Free with speech.
The modest man,
Who speaks well,
Wins hearts,
And wins battles.
The clever man,
Picks as shieldman,
The warrior stood,
Quiet as mountains.
The jarl should see,
His line well set,
His warriors,
Happy in heart.
At the vital time,
With his hearth,
He strides ahead;
Victory is won.
The spoils are taken,
To the banner;
Each man seeks,
Honourable payment.
The wise jarl,
Gives all as gifts;
The giftless will give,
But token honesty.
On the march,
Men are lazy,
The heat lulls,
Men’s thoughts of ambush.
Send out scouts,
Encourage with words;
The jarl will see,
The trap approaching.
Snakes can hide,
In the words of men,
Blackening hearts,
In quiet corners.
Each man has Loki,
Seeking an outlet,
Good comrades,
Never relent.
The man whose head,
Is turned by words,
Will listen hard,
To cries of fear.
Thinking only,
Of fast escape,
He runs at the moment,
When victory can be won.
Set the banner,
In the eyes of all;
Men take courage,
From the raven.
The enemy, wounded,
Can still sting:
Call the warriors,
Into order.
Set the banner,
Where all will know,
The wise jarl,
Seeks food for carrion.
The enemy shattered,
Can still sting:
Go on together,
To finish the beast.
The hearth were happy,
Collecting gold,
Forged weapons,
Silver armrings.
The lame wolf,
Pounced again,
The hearth dispersed,
Felt the jaws clamp.
The jarl sees,
Shadows of foes,
Lingering behind trees,
Seeking revenge.
Send the line forward,
Leave the spoils,
Gold is as good,
Gathered at sunset.
Men seek fame,
In the mead hall,
Distribute words,
Of praise with the plunder.
Men seek fame,
Let them prattle,
The wise jarl knows,
There is yet more work.
Men seek fame,
Honour the skald,
Dissention spreads,
Amongst the ignored.
Men seek fame,
Sing their worth,
Without good men,
The jarl is alone.
The better weapon,
Is good sense,
Harder than steel,
Sense bends the will.
Eyes fly faster,
Than fletched arrows,
The victory seen,
Is the victory won.
The better weapon,
Is good sense,
Swords will not,
Feed an army.
Do best,
The simple things,
The hearth will then,
Fight with resolve.
I saw a man,
Eager for war,
He charged like a bear,
And was lost to men.
The jarl must know,
That men will die,
Follow them well,
Others will triumph.
Not all revel,
In battle carrion,
Stomachs turn,
At the stench of blood.
The fearful have uses,
Away from war play,
Use them well,
Victory comes closer.
Winter brings,
Drunken feasts,
Boasts of glory,
Yet to come.
But the wise jarl,
Sees to his men;
Men may still,
Repair their weapons.
Winter brings,
Ale illness,
Warriors cry,
Who never flinch in war.
The wise jarl,
Sees to his hearth;
Shields can be,
Fixed in the evening.
I saw a man,
Happy and laughing,
His eyes became distant,
His laughter died.
The jarl could see,
A woman’s work:
Give him the girl,
Or a seat by the fire.
The hearth rode out,
Shining in byrnies,
Cloaks of rich colours,
Silvered helmets.
Well drawn up,
Hard handed men,
Handled weapons,
With deadly glee.
The clash resounded,
The snake of battle,
Promised victory,
Then stole the day.
The jarl was wise,
Fought like a lion,
But covered in gore,
He was unlucky.
Ormstunga