Andreas VII

After these words a measureless host came, shameful lore-smiths
with a crowd of shield-bearers, all swollen-minded—
they swiftly bore him out and bound the hands of the holy one.
Next Andrew, the joy of noblemen, was revealed and they
could see him with their own eyes, present and triumph-eager,
there on the fruiting plain where so many craved that man,
the glory of the people. They were little aggrieved for what recompense
would come to them after. The malignant enemy ordered him
to be led across the land-shares, pulling him along from time
to time in such a way as they could find most savage.
They dragged him, daring-minded and stout-hearted,
across hill-scarps and along rocky slopes—
even as widely as where the old paths were lying,
the work of giants within their cities, streets stone-paved.
A tempest of the heathen army was reared up
throughout the city’s houses. It was no small commotion. (1219-38a)

The body of that holy man was sodden with sore wounds,
bedewed with himself, his bone-house broken.
Blood welled out in waves of hot gore*—
though he had courage unwavering within him.
That noble mind was sundered from sins even though
he was to suffer so many pains in deep wound-blows.
So he was beaten, triumph-bright, all day long until evening came.
Pain soon pervaded the warrior’s breast until the bright sun,
heaven-radiant, slid towards its setting. Then the people led their hated
adversary to prison. Regardless Andrew was dear to Christ in his mind—
the hallowed thought was light about his heart, his purpose strong. (1238b-52)

Then the holy man was beset with cunning wiles
the whole night, an earl courage-hard under the gloom-shade.
Snow bound up the earth in winter-casts. The breeze grew chilly,
hard with hail-showers, such ice and frost. White war-steppers
fastened the homeland of men, the households of the people.
The lands were frozen with cold icicles of rime.
The water’s power withered across the river-currents and ice bridged
the murky sea-road. Andrew the blithe-hearted remained bold
and trouble-fast in his consigned compulsions the winter-cold
night long, an earl un-infamous, mindful of daring.
He did not cease in his intention, trembling from this terror,
which he had earlier begun—he praised ever the Lord most glorious
and worshipped him wordfully, until the gem of glory,
heaven-bright, was unclosed. (1253-69a)

Then came a swarm of soldiers to that dark dungeon,
no small multitude passing in the noise of a slaughter-greedy host.
They ordered that the nobleman, that pledge-fast hero,
be led outside quickly into the possession of the wroth.
Then again, just as before, he was beaten with pain-blows
the length of a day. Blood welled out in waves from his liver,
throughout his bone-coffer, engulfing him in hot gore. His corse,
wearied by wounds, cared not much for their performance. (1269b-78a)

Then came a ring of cries from Andrew’s breast—a ghastly thing
fared forth, a stream welling out in a swell, and he spoke by word:
“Now see here, Lord God, my condition, good-giver of armies!
You perceive and understand the wretch-journeys of every
single man. I trust in you, my Life-Start, that you, man’s mild-hearted
savior, Almighty Eternal, will never forsake me because of your
mighty virtues, so that I, while my soul lives upon this earth,
perform so that I fail but little your loving lessons.
You are my shielder against scathing weaponry,
Eternal Origin of Blessings, for all of your creatures.
Don’t let the mankind’s bane, fault’s first-born shame
through fiend-craft nor cover in reproach those that bear your praise.” (1278b-95)

Then a loathsome spirit appeared there, an angry pledge-breaker.
That warrior preached before that war-band, a devil of hell
condemned to suffering, and said in word:
“Strike this sinful man
across the mouth, this enemy of the people!
He talks too much!” (1296-1301)

Then was the flame-point soon stirred with renewed voice.
Malice was raised up until the sun departed, gliding to its setting
under the dark earth. Night brown-black covered the steep mountains,
overshadowing them and holy Andrew was led back into his home,
bold and glory-eager in that dark hall. He had to dwell within
closed constraint the length of the night, pledge-fast, in the foul fold. (1301-10)

Then came a dire wretch, one of seven mindful of evil,
walking to the hall, an evil-lord clothed in the murk of murder,
a devil death-cruel deprived of blessings. He began then
to speak words of reproach to the sainted man.
“What were you thinking Andy, by your coming to this wrathful wold?
What is your glory? That you would be exalted in over-mind
when you humbled the idols of our gods?
Have you now assigned both land and people, all for yourself alone,
just as your teacher had? He heaved up his kingly glory,
for that was the name of Christ, across middle-earth,
while he could do so. Herod deprived him of life,
the King of Judea defeated him in combat,
bereaved him of lands and befixed him to a cross,
where he sent out his ghost upon the gallows.
So I now order my children, these powerful servants,
my disciples of war, to humiliate you.
Let the point of spears, arrows stained with venom,
dive into you, into your doomed spirit! Go forth right away,
my war-bold hardies, and vanquish his vainglory!” (1311-33)

They were cruel, rushing upon him at once with voracious
clutches. God defended him, the Steadfast Steersman, through
his strong might. Afterwards they recognized the Cross of Christ
upon Andrew’s forehead, that renowned token, and they were taken
with trembling inside—frightened, afraid and taken to flight then.
At once the elder-foe, the captive of hell, began as before to sing
a sorrow-song: “How are you become so valiant, my soldiers,
my shield-brothers, that you prospered so little?” (1334-44)

Then the wretch gave the devil answer, the first-scather, and replied
to their father: “Suddenly we are not able to inflict injury upon him,
nor death through devices. Go to him yourself! There you will
directly find battle, fearsome fighting if you dare to strive further
upon that recluse’s life. We can easily advise you better, dearest lord,
in that sword-play—before you make war and the tumult of battle boldly,
consider how you might profit in the exchange of blows.
Let us proceed at once, that we might shame him in his fast bonds,
taunt him about his wrack-journey. Have your words ready,
wholly considered, against that wretched thing!” (1345-59)

Then with a loud voice upon the mountain-road, the one afflicted
with torments spoke these words: “You, Andrew, have long
applied yourself to wretched arts! How many peoples have you
seduced and betrayed? You will assume this work for not much
longer. There are tortures ordained for you, as grim as you deserve!
Weary-hearted and abject, devoid of comforts, you must endure agony
by sore death-pains! My men are ready for war-play—they would
do anything* to take your life with their valor-deeds before too long.
Who among the kindred of men is so mighty across middle-earth
that they could release you from these bone-bonds against my will?” (1360-74)

Andrew then gave him reply: “Well, Almighty God,
Savior of Men can easily save me, who formerly fastened
you into discomfort with burning bonds! There you have been ever since,
bound up in torment, waiting in wrack, cut off from glory
after you disdained the words of the Heaven-King!
There was the start of evil—and there will be no end to your exile!
You must increase your misery for your long life.
Eternally and always, your condition will be the stronger from day to day!” (1375-85)

At that, the devil fled, who had made fierce feud against God in years past. (1386-7)