My mother thinketh wrongly that we the war forget, and time are wasting.”
[1098]
He set his hawk a-flying, and thence at once he rode.
Very soon thereafter darkened was his mood;
For when the men he greeted, and they their tale were telling,
He learned that the queen, his mother, ever in tears her loss was aye bewailing.
[1099]
She to the youthful warrior sent her greeting kind:
In her wretched lot, she asked him what might be his mind;
And asked how many followers he could to the war be leading;