In Heremac ovr braue Sir Will
   Recalls how he alone
Escap’d the rvcks, his men all lost—
   Enslaued, or slayn, or flown.

Attend, good men, and hear my woeful tale,
How I contended with the wicked rucks
That serve Tereus, how I ventured far
Through racking storms, charged by our Bishop with
The safe deliverance of holy priests
To Lownell Manor.

With my men we won
Through frozen wilderness, fought monsters set
On laying waste to us. And yet, we made
It safe to Sir John’s gates, and lost not one
To all the snares and perils presented us.
Lownell embraced my company with feasts,
And I drank deep of the wine, songs, and jests—
Nothing so whets a hero’s appetite
As doth a quest, completed! Lownell, though,
Proposed to my men an enterprise, new :
A shield, enchanted, lost at Willoghby Copse,
And now possessed by two knaves—a pair
Of brothers, sworn to vice, who dwelt six leagues
Off, in a Tower deemed impregnable.
Not one to shirk when Dame Adventure calls,
I cried for my men to take up this quest.
Lownell provided soldiers, stores, and arms,
And sent with us his noble champion,
Sir Waleran. We so arrayed, I pledged
To find these Scarlet-Banner Knights—or die!

We made forth from Lownell, to claim the shield—
Sir Waleran and I, with all my men :
St. James, doughty Hamral and Mendelor,
Vandoren, Renton, Coric, and young Dale,
The Friar, Wyk, Valerius, and Mot.
Along with these, marched several men-at-arms
And one man more: a ruckish scout named Nod.
Onward, Nod led us, to enemy lands.

Many a long campaign hath Old Will seen,
And all those years of fighting granted me
More cunning than a Cat. I knew at once
That something was amiss, but could not voice
My worries, though, before that traitor Nod,
Into a deadly ambush brought us all.

Thus Nod did turn, and with his sword struck down
His fellow, signaling to secret rucks
The time for murther. Arrows poured from all
Around, and we were caught within the rain.
A score of men-at-arms were slain outright,
And we left ripe for plucking!

All seemed lost
But I would not to them so meekly go.
Thus I cried havoc, and unsheathed my sword.
Like to an Eagle, soaring down from high,
Unto his prey, so didst I fall on them.
The rucks in terror cried, as Justicar
Carried me through to battle. I advanced,
Their ranks before me parting as the Sea’s
Waves break upon the strand, my sword, first here
And there, like this and that I hewed, now left
Then right. The rucks fell back before the gleam
Of Welsung—By the Cup, such sport that day!

Six rucks attacked, and like the hungry Wolf,
That pounces on a startled Hind, I met
Them all. So seven rucks crossed swords with me.
Hotly I fought, turning first here, then there.
Perdie, those eight rucks quailed before my blade!
Beside me stood Sir Waleran, faced not
Perhaps with my nine rucks, but still he gave
A valiant fight. But, alas, my ten
With his half-a-dozen, were not alone!
The rucks, you see, were led by one who knew
The dark art, Grammerie, and he didst cast
Many a wicked spell. Without his craft,
In faith, I would have sent eleven rucks
To rest in the black coils of their damned sire,
The Asp. The wissard’s spells bewitched my men,
And gave them all the palsy, as if struck
By Elf-shot. Then, the Nigromauncer called
A cunning phantasy forth, that appeared
The very semblance of a knight. My friend
Sir Waleran rode out to meet this trick,
And was instead brought low by sorcery.

I cursed the Wissard, and found myself faced
With twelve foul foes. A dozen times they stabbed
Me through, my lions they hacked like firewood,
My shirt was rent to ribbons, and my pants
Were filled with more holes than a honeycomb!
And as we struggled to and fro, more rucks
Crept in, subduing my enchanted friends.
Just then, a horrid sight appeared, no doubt
A conjuration brought from Hell itself :
A monstrous thing, part dog, part goat, part fish.
This Basilisk, I tell you, was enough,
To check even my own inestimable
Valor! The thing upon me leapt, and I,
Weakened by numerous and grievous wounds,
Was then undone. I swear all this be truth.

When I awoke, the villains had me bound,
My men and Waleran were also trussed.
As for the rucks’ dread wissard—he was gone!
Spirited off, no doubt, on hell-horse borne.
Our captors led us many miles, until
We reached their secret camp, an icy cave
Carefully hidden. Day turned into night,
And after little rest, the rucks impelled
Us on. We marched, in darkness, with no words.

But then—A man of mine, that clever jack,
Coric, began to cough and moan. The rucks
In anger urged him to be still. His cries
Unstopt, the rucks called halt, to see what was
Amiss. The boy seemed sick: he shivered, shook,
And coughed up blood. Our captors, fearing pox,
Cut Coric’s binds, perhaps to leave behind
A dying man. But once his limbs were loose,
By prearranged design, my men commenced
To struggle. How St. James had freed himself,
I could not say. Yet, there he was—unbound!
I taught them well! And like a flash, still more
Were free. My men soon armed themselves and fought
With fury great. The rucks fell back before
This rapid turn. And into this melee,
A demon-bird, as black as midnight, flew,
Frightening the rucks!

Thus, my men escaped.
Our captors knew that Waleran and I
Were valued most, and they made sure that we
Could not break free. The rucks pressed on, without
My missing men. For two more nights we marched,
Reaching at last the Tower, that over flew
The Scarlet Banner! They did not regard
Our gentle birth one whit, and we were cast
Into the dungeon, like ignoble slaves,
Immured beneath the ground. We never saw
Our gaolers—May the Five curse both their necks!

And after many days of durance cruel,
Our ransom was made, and we were brought back
To Lownell. There I lingered for a while,
Hoping to see my friends again, alive
And well. Alas, no sign of them arrived.
Lord Lownell, knowing that a man of my
Great stature has many duties, approached,
Insisting I return to Heremac,
Where now I sit, alone. Alack-a-day!
I miss my friends, those stalwart lads, now lost
All lost, in distant lands so far away!