The King-Slaying in Finderup

So many dwell in Denmark
Would all be masters there!
They’ve ridden up to Ribe
And close disguise they wear.
—And therefore the land lies in peril.

They’ve clothed them in a close disguise
As friars of orders grey,
And up the land they’ve ridden
Their leal lord to betray.

They watched him in, they watched him out,
They watched thro’ time and tide,
They watched him till the woful hour
He should to Finderup ride.

They rode into the goodman’s garth,
And shining spears they bore;
Was never a man might know them
For the monkish cowls they wore.

Oh, they rode in where the wax-light stood
A-burning in the bower;
They led him out, the youthful King,
And that was an evil hour.

“Harken, Ranild Jonson,
Wilt thou defend my life,
Half my kingdom I’ll give thee,
And my sister to thy wife!”

It was Ranild Jonson
That hewed at beam and board;
Good sooth, most like a traitor
Did he defend his lord!

Oh, they’ve struck in at the shoulder,
And out at the heart they smite:
“There shall be woe in all Denmark
For the deed we ha’ done this night!”

It was the little foot-page
That mote not bear the sight;
The saddle he took from the good grey steed
And set it upon the white.

The saddle he took from the good grey steed
And set it upon the white,
And he has ridden to Skanderborg
Before the fall of night.

The Queen sits on the tower so tall,
And looks forth far and wide:
“Yonder I see a little foot-page,
And swiftly doth he ride.

“All on his master’s steed he rides,
And woe is me for fear!
Now watch, Almighty God in heaven,
Over my lord so dear!”

“Now GOD have mercy on his soul!
For slain our lord doth lie;
The King lies killed in Finderup,
And the land is in jeopardy!

“Now watch ye well your castle,
Now watch ye well your realm,
Now watch ye well your own young son
Shall stand at Denmark’s helm!”

“So long as thou and I shall live,
Though ill thy tidings be,
Fire and food in the royal court
This shalt thou have in fee!”
—And therefore the land lies in peril.