Atop the waves two Sisters danced
and raised their fearful cry,
as six cursed maids rose from the depths
with fury in their eyes.

Around each brow spun motes of light
from souls lost to Their pow'r,
Yet challenged He the mighty horde
though other men would cower.

His war-steed reared and balked with fear
as Eastward ran the charge
of legion North and legion South,
their armor worn and marred.

South sped He along the line,
eight battlements lined with spears,
His courage, grace and fearless words
leant solace to their fear.

Yet one boy hid amongst the throng
of fourteen lancemen brave
whose pounding heart, awash with tears,
was crying to be saved.

The noble Sir then spied the lad
and raced, quick, to his side:
down marble stairs, right 'round the bend
and fifth man in the line.