At once old Wâ-te started, no longer would he wait

At once old Wâ-te started, no longer would he wait; A hundred knights went with him, the others lingered yet. He said he came for buying; what could the pilgrims sell him? For this men died thereafter, and, for himself, but sorry luck befell him.

On the shore he found the pilgrims,— this I know is true,— Fully thirty hundred, I ween, and better, too. To fight were they unready, and could not rouse them quickly: Nearer came King Hettel, and with him led his men, now crowding thickly.

Their goods the pilgrims guarded, yet Wâ-te sent on shore All that he had no need for, of silver and clothes a store; But the food was left on shipboard, so old Wâ-te chooses: He said he should come hereafter, and would reward them well for all their losses.

Sadly mourned the pilgrims, for sorest was their need; But for all they said old Wâ-te cared not a crust of bread: The bold, unyielding warrior, stern and never smiling, Said: “Both ships and flatboats they to leave to him must now be willing.”

Hettel recked but little if ever they sailed again Over the sea with their crosses: then he took of their men Five hundred at least, or over, the best they had among them; Of these to the Hegeling kingdom few came back, from the death that overhung them.

I know not whether Hettel atoned for his evil deed Done to these poor pilgrims, that made their hearts to bleed, And, in a far-off kingdom, rent their band, to their sorrow. I ween the God in heaven saw the wrong, and his anger showed on the morrow.

King Hettel and his followers met with a kindly breeze, And now their way were taking quickly across the seas; Seeking for their foemen, they sailed far over the water, Wherever they might find them, longing to show their wrath, and bent on slaughter.