’Neath the tramp of the feet of the vassals of the Queen the dust rose high.
When the great King beheld them all mail-clad as for fight,
Those princes and their liegemen, he cried unto them forthright:
“What meaneth this?—behold I my friends in battle-gear?
By my troth, it should vex me sorely if any harmed them here!
All wrong, whatsoever atonement they asked, would I requite.
If to their heart and their spirit any have done despite,
I will show unto them and to all men what indignation have I.
What redress they demand soever, nothing do I deny.”
To the King made answer Hagen: “None doeth despite unto us.