The King sends word to the Marshal Stig
That he to the fields of war should fare;
Himself will deign at home to remain
And take the charge of his Lady fair.
In came the Marshal’s serving man,
And a kirtle of green that man he wore:
“Of our good liege the little foot-page
Is standing out the gate before.”
Up stood the young Sir Marshal Stig,
By the side of his bed his clothes put on;
And to speak the boy, the King’s envoy,
Down to the gate is the Marshal gone.
“Now hear thou, Marsk Stig Andersen,
’Tis truth and sooth what I say to thee;
Thou must away to the King’s palay,
Then mount thy horse and follow with me.
“Oh, I know nought of my Lord King’s thought
That I to thee can now declare,
Except that thou to the war must go
And there thy sovereign’s banner bear.”
Then in at the door Sir Marsk Stig trode,
And a wrathful man I trow was he:
“By the Saints I swear, my Lady dear,
Fulfill’d my dreary dream will be.
“For of late I dream’d that my noble horse
To chase the wild mare ran away;
And that must mean that I shall be slain,
And that my steed will tramp on my life-less clay.”
“Now hold thy tongue, my noble Lord,
And do not talk thus foolishly,
For Christ can protect thy life, reflect,
The blessed Christ who dwells on high.”
It was the young and bold Marsk Stig
Came riding into the Castle yard,
Abroad did stand the King of the land
So fair array’d in sable and mard.
“Now lend an ear, young Marshal Stig,
I have for thee a fair emprise,
Ride thou this year to the war, and bear
My flag amongst my enemies.”