In fury Hereward summoned his maid,
‘Let’s visit these foul folk!’
And took his breastplate and his helm
And trusty sword, that was sharpened well
And hid them under a blackened veil
Beneath her flowing cloak.
Approaching under the cover of night
They came upon the gates
And there they found a head impaled,
A head he sadly knew too well,
It was his brother brutally nailed,
A boast about his fate.
With sorrow he sighed and brought it down,
In quiet solemnity,
And kissed it in his loving care,
With tears he combed his tangled hair,
And lifted him to the Lord in prayer,
And cursed this devilry.
Hereward decides to visit those who killed his brother.
(18.06.26)
Ode for the Day 