“I ween they are not pilgrims, in truth, my father dear;
More like it is that Wâ-te and all his men draw near.
He from Sturmland cometh, the lord of Ortland bringing;
The men I see are like them, as I know from the flag that they to the breeze are flinging.
[1368]
“I see a brown silk pennon, that comes from Karadé;
Before that flag is lowered, many will rue the day.
On it a head is blazoned,— as red as gold it glitters:
Guests so bold and warlike we well can spare; their sight the day embitters.
[1369]