Folklore & Fantasy

Poem 944 – The Lovers Meet (expanded) (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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Now one year on it’s time to turn
To Flanders for his wife,
Who he’d left there with his nephews,
Siward the Red and White, these two
The noblest of his men both true
In caring for her life.

Oh what a joyful reunion!
Two lovers at last combined!
Their separation was so hard,
By circumstances kept apart,
But now true love’s restored at last,
Their lives as one aligned.

United in each others arms,
Eyes locked together fast,
Two lives entwined like ivy vines,
They celebrate, two glasses of wine,
A couplet, lines that are perfectly rhymed,
Two hands so tightly clasped.

And here they would have happily stayed
But alas it wasn’t to be,
Outside these walls the world span on,
And trouble brewed that impinged upon,
Their peace and joy so freshly won,
That longed to blossom free.

Expanding and placing in context the reunion of Hereward and Turfrida in yesterday’s poem.
(17.07.36)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Will O on Unsplash

Poem 941 – Hereward Brings Turfrieda Home (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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So now renowned in far Flanders
Across the Narrow Seas, 1
He took Turfrieda in his embrace,
With arms now proven in strength and grace,
Declaring ‘No more should we be displaced,
Let’s live as family!’

We’ve been apart for far too long,
Let’s leave and forge a home,
Back in the Fens, my Father’s land,
Let’s up at once and go!

And so he gathered up his men
With Siwards Red and White,
The chaplain Hugo Britannious,
With prayer and sword a genius,
His brother too, one Withardus,
A knight of valour and might.

And so they sailed across the Seas,
Past France, back home again,
Where Old Man Heron patient stood,
And pike and perch swam in the brook,
And eels swam past the willow wood,
Back to his Mother Fen.

After sharing a few verses with my father yesterday, I’m feeling inspired to press on with this ballad, and determined to intertwine the tale of Hereward with the character of our shared fenland home.
(14.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Image public domain

  1. The Anglo Saxon Name for the English Channel ↩︎

Poem 939 – Appeasing Mother Fen (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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Old Mother Fen this is your tale
And so we greet you first,
We toss a sword into the wet,
Acknowledging your primal threat,
A humble token of respect
With which to slake your thirst.

Our sword is new and freshly forged
And never drawn in anger,
It’s made for you at great expense,
A blade that’s offered like incense,
To calm your hunger, make you content,
Receive us in your land.

And now our duty is performed
Our narrative can start,
With introductions of our cast,
A look back to a violent past,
To welcome Hereward at last,
To the tale of which he’s part.

Thinking about the setting off this ballad, I found myself remembering Flag Fen in Peterborough and the sword found there which formed some sort of offering. That significantly predates our tale, but it somehow felt appropriate to appropriate it for the start of my ballad, a memory echoed in Arthurian Legend now applied to Hereward, another resistance fighter.
(12.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Maria Miguel Cardeiro on Unsplash

Poem 938 – The Passage

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Our kayak slides along the dark, still water.
Here no ripples form, all sound is dampened.
Distant lungs breathe in, the weighty air
constricts and reaching trees bow down in greeting.

We whisper, fearing to disturb this timeless
passage; what lies within its pulsing vein?
I sense some sentience observing me
within, some foreign mind forming judgements.

We’re steered forwards, towards the distant light,
invited by its possibility,
all the time suppressing the nagging doubt
that something is amiss. We close our eyes.

Within the ocean deep, they say, there lurk
treacherous creatures that lure their prey with bio-
luminescence. Attracted by unnatural
suns their victims swim into their mouths.

Inspired by a photo and discussion shared in an online forum I’m part of. Photo taken kayaking in Northern Winsconsin.
(11.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo Kris Smith / WickedDarkPhotography

Poem 934 – Grace Overcomes (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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They set upon him fearlessly
Encircling our man,
With hungry blades and thirsting eyes,
They inwards stepped with violent cries,
And sought with force to take their prize,
With murder as their plan.

They did not care for chivalry,
Nor how he stood alone,
They only cared for their success,
With hatred rising in their chests,
And boiling blood, feelings intense,
And anger in their bones.

They went to take him where he stood,
To cleave him heart from soul,
But just as all was surely lost,
A number of them turned because,
Their conscience made them count the cost,
Of killing one so bold.

They faced their brothers of the sword
And ordered them away,
‘It is an act of cowardice,
To kill a man this way!’

Some ran at once their faces grim,
Whilst others did delay,
Until a comrade of the Wake
Did through their circle urgent break,
To leave them standing jaws agape,
As he spirited him away.

And so, escaped with heart and soul,
His saviours Hereward praised,
Both he who on his horse broke through,
And those who turned, the chivalrous few,
Who bought him time, despite the seven he slew,
To fight another day.

This bright report soon quickly spread
Across both camps with speed,
The honour of his tale’s account,
The generosity his foes espoused,
Compassion showed from grace’s fount,
To the man they once all feared.

And with same speed his fame soon spread,
And peace broke out with joy,
And gifts were poured on our great lord,
The best of gifts they could afford,
Sourced here at home and far abroad,
By former foes now joined.

I left Hereward in a precarious position a few days ago, a classic cliffhanger. Does he escape? And how?
(07.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Mikhail Mamaev on Unsplash

Poem 929 – Return to Flanders (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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Now one year on it’s time to turn
To Flanders for his wife,
Who he’d left there with his nephews,
Siward the Red and White, these two
The noblest of his men both true
In caring for her life.

Returned but for a fortnight long,
When Baldwin the fine Knight,
Came calling for his help and arms,
Against the Viscount Pynkenni’s advance,
To stop his men from causing harm,
‘Will you take on the fight?’

‘Of course I will!’ he fast announced,
‘With Siwards Red and White,
The three of us would be so proud,
To ride with you tonight!’

Hereward keeps his promise to go back for his wife within the year.
(01.07.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 928 – The Club Convenes in Person

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Slowly we converge. Alert, we trace
each stranger’s face to ascertain their nature.
Do those features belong to one of us?
We hesitate, it’s better to be cautious
than run unnecessary risk. Be careful.
Watch and wait. Let someone else move first.
A stranger looks your way. Eyes briefly meet
then break away. An accidental action,
or look of recognition? Turn back and see.
They’re looking too, it’s time to make your move.

The first in person meeting for The Pendragon Club, an online community gathered around the imaginary worlds created by Julian Simpson. And what a brilliant evening it was!
(30.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 927 – Knighted (The Ballad of the Wake cont.)

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Not unmindful of these fears our
Hereward amassed his men,
The biggest and the bold he called,
Some forty nine he sent abroad,
All dressed in armour fresh procured,
The bravest from the Fens.

Upon the Feast of Peter and Paul
He went to the Abbot of Burgh, (Peterborough)
A man called Brant of noble birth,
Requesting that around his girth,
He’d hang a belt and sword in mirth,
To make of him a Sir.

And in an act of further fury
He called upon his fighters,
To be likewise made knights like this,
Proclaimed as such by a solemn kiss ,
That English ways not French persist,
As by the clergy they’re knighted.

Back to the Ballad today and Hereward preparing for the King William’s revenge in response to his own (see Poem 920).
(29.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Jonathan Kemper on Unsplash