They fetched the fierce pretender
A captive to King Thorald's hall,
And king and all his courtier train
Were merrymaking at his fall.
"How now, ye spurred Red Rider!
Where now thine iron-pointed pen,
That wrote such royal promises
To tempt my swords and serving men!
"Write now thy name, Red Rider,
Upon the face of this fair wall,
That these my guests may drink thy health,
Whene'er they gather in my hall."
Then straightway to the dais
The knight approached with kingly stride,
And from its scabbard snatched the blade
That sparkled by King Thorald's side.
None stirred; death-still the chamber;
Till leapt a shriek from every part,
As to the hilt the stranger thrust
The dagger, nigh his own hot heart.
And smearing then his finger
From off the dripping, gory thing,
He scrawled across the marble wall
These words of scarlet: "Eckhart, King."
'T was written, and close wrapping
His soldier's cloak about his face,
He tottered to his brother's throne,--
Then fell--and fear fell on the place.
And prone were all the people,
While shrill the queen and jester cried;--
For claimant-king, king-claimant, both,
That fatal festal night had died.
