My forefathers have written this book in succession. I will do this, the more because there exists no longer in my state any citadel on which events are inscribed as used to be the case. My name is Konerêd (Koenraad). My father's name was Frethorik, my mother's name was Wiljow. After my father's death I was chosen as his successor. When I was fifty years old I was chosen for chief Grevetman. My father has written how the Lindaoorden and Lindgaarden were destroyed. Lindahem is still lost, the Lindaoorden partially, and the north Lindgaarden are still concealed by the salt sea. The foaming sea washes the ramparts of the castle. As my father has mentioned, the people, being deprived of their harbour, went away and built houses inside the ramparts of the citadel; therefore that bastion is called Lindwerd. The sea-people say Linwerd, but that is nonsense. In my youth there was a portion of land lying outside the rampart all mud and marsh; but Frya's people were neither tired nor exhausted when they had a good object in view. By digging ditches, and making dams of the earth that came out of the ditches, we recovered a good space of land outside the rampart, which had the form of a hoof three poles eastward, three southwards, and three westwards. At present we are engaged in ramming piles into the ground to make a harbour to protect our rampart. When the work is finished we shall attract mariners. In my youth it looked very queer, but now there stands a row of houses.
Leaks and deficiencies produced by poverty have been remedied by industry. From this men may learn that Wr-alda, our universal father, protects all his creatures, if they preserve their courage and help each other.