“And, Sir Niels, too long thou hast Here stood idly chattering; Either thou shalt Denmark quit, Or thou shalt on gallows swing.
“’Neath safe convoy since thou’rt come Thou shalt go withouten hurt; To thy cost else thou should’st learn What it is to anger Gert.”
“I thy princely passport hold, Whether it avail or not; If thou do me aught of harm, Infamy thy name will blot.
“Thieves mayst thou on gallows hang, To be torn by carn and crow; For thy threat from native land, Wife, and child, I will not go.
“But if me from native land And my wife and babes you chase, Thou shalt soon, for certainty, Rue thou e’er hast seen my face!”
“Ride away, Sir Ebbesen, Quickly hence thyself betake, Or I will, as well I can, On thy skull the helmet break.”
“None e’er saw me so adread But that I could tremble still, { 12} Hear, Count Gert! look to thyself, Guard thee from approaching ill.”
“Ebbesen, thou tirest me, Suffering thus thy tongue to run; Till to-morrow thou art safe, Even till the set of sun.
“This, and the next day till eve, Thou for me shalt be at rest; But no belted knight am I If I be not soon thy guest.”
Swift away rode Ebbesen, Shook his iron-gloved fist in air: “That I soon shall come again, Good Sir Count, in memory bear.”
Forward rode Niels Ebbesen, Spurred his steed till blood outflew; With his men the Count remained, No one dared the knight pursue.
Till he reached his Castellaye, Still he rode withouten rest; To his dear Dame he complained, Begged of her her counsel best.
“Here thou sitt’st, dear Housewife mine, What advice canst thou bestow? Gert will drive me from the land, Hath declared himself my foe.
“To my choice three things he put, Least of all I liked the third; I should join him, or the land Quit, or hang, such was his word.”
“Ah! what counsel can I give From my simple woman’s mind? The most desperate counsel’s best, Can we but that counsel find.
“The most desperate counsel’s best, If we can but it discover; Either slay the tyrant, or Burn the house the tyrant over.
“To the smithy lead your steeds, Let them all be shod anew; Turn ye all the heels afore, Thus your trace will cheat the view.
“Turn ye all the heels afore, Track ye thus, I ween, can no man; Never tell to mortal wight, Thou hast learnt this from a woman.”