Laird Colyne Stewart, March AS 37 (2003)
From forests black he came,
Tall strider with a gnarled staff,
Road-taken tokens glittering.
Eyes gentle but arms foe-rending.
At his side a life-scythe glinting.
As Woden looked when young
So does Wulfgang look now.
The path before him split—
The way of the warrior he trod.
In vulpine-borrowed helm he learned his art;
He let more blood than any barber.
His skill and passion plain to all,
Until a king saw the foes before him flee.
Wulfgang, proud, first took a test
‘gainst fellow German, lance-kennecht,
And Wulfgang walked from the field
An oath-swearing servant of the king.
When duty to his monarch passed
A count and knight he followed,
Fed the ravens red life-wine,
Showing mercy when foe’s honour shone.
The count now calls Wulfgang Wodanson,
A length of cow-hide in his hands,
To gird about his waist.
Wulfgang of the thundering fist,
Wulfgang of the flower,
Now a squire to a knight,
None more worthy,
None more proud.
Wulfgang walks a new road now,
Towards a rising sun.