Chapter 4

Twentieth Adventure How King Etzel Sent to Burgundy for Kriemhild

It was in the days when Queen Helca died, and King Etzel wooed other women, that his friends commended to him a proud widow in the land of Burgundy, that hight Queen Kriemhild.

Seeing fair Helca was dead, they said, “If thou wouldst win a noble wife, the highest and the best that ever a king won, take this woman. Stark Siegfried was her husband.”

The great king answered, “How could that be, since I am a heathen, and have not received baptism? The woman is a Christian—she will not consent. It were a wonder, truly, if it came to pass.”

But the good knights said, “What if she do it gladly, for thy high name’s sake, and thy great possessions? One can ask her at the least; she were a fitting and comely mate for thee.”

Then the noble king answered, “Which among ye knoweth the folk by the Rhine, and their land?”

Said good Rudeger of Bechlaren, “From a child I have known the high and noble kings, Gunther and Gernot, good knights both. The third hight Giselher; each of these doeth whatso goeth best with honour and virtue. The like did their fathers.”

But Etzel said, “Friend, tell me now, is she meet to wear the crown in my land? If her body be so fair as they say, my best friends shall never rue it.”

“She resembleth great Helca, my mistress, for beauty. No king’s wife in the world could be fairer. Whom she taketh to friend may well be comforted!”

He said, “Then woo her, Rudeger, in my name and for my sake. And come I ever to wed Kriemhild, I will reward thee as I best can. Thereto, thou wilt have done my will faithfully. From my store I will bid them give thee what thou requirest of horses and apparel, that thou and thy fellows may live merrily. They shall give thee therefrom without stint for thine embassy.”

Rudeger, the rich Margrave, answered, “I were much to blame if I took from thy store. I will gladly ride, an envoy to the Rhine, at mine own cost, and with what I have received from thy hand.”

Then the rich king said, “When thinkest thou to set out for the fair one? God guard thine honour by the way, and also my wife, if kind fortune help us to her favour.”

Said Rudeger, “Or we quit this land, we must let fashion weapons and apparel, that we may win worship when we come before the princes. I will lead to the Rhine five hundred valiant men, that when they see me and mine at Burgundy, they may say that never king sent so many men so far as thou hast sent to us, to the Rhine. And know, great king, if thou art set on this, that she belonged to Siegfried, a right goodly man, the son of Siegmund. Thou hast seen him here. Soothly, much worship might be said of him.”

King Etzel answered, “If she was that knight’s wife, the noble prince was of so high renown, that I may not scorn his queen. By reason of her great beauty she pleaseth me well.”

Then the Margrave said, “I promise thee that we will ride hence in four and twenty days. I will send word to Gotelind, my dear wife, that I, myself, go as envoy to Kriemhild.” So Rudeger sent messengers to Bechlaren to his wife, the high-born Margravine, and told her that he would go wooing for the king.

The Margravine still thought lovingly on good Helca, and when she heard the message, she was one part sorry, and began to weep, lest she might not win such a mistress as afore. When she thought on Helca she was heavy of her cheer.

Rudeger rode out of Hungary in seven days, whereat King Etzel rejoiced. They made ready his equipment at the town of Vienna, and he delayed his journey no longer.

Gotelind awaited him at Bechlaren, and the young Margravine, Rudeger’s daughter, saw her father and his men gladly. They got a fair greeting from beautiful women.

Or noble Rudeger rode to Bechlaren from the town of Vienna, the clothes, whereof there were enow, came on the sumpters. So strong they rode, that little was stolen from them by the way.

When they were come into the town of Bechlaren, the host bade lodge his comrades, and give them good quarters. Wealthy Gotelind rejoiced to see her husband, the like did also his dear daughter, the young Margravine, that was as merry as could be at his coming. Right gladly she saw the heroes from Hungary. The noble maiden said, with laughing mouth, “Ye be very welcome, my father and his men.”

And the good knights were not slow to thank her.

Well Gotelind knew the mind of Rudeger. When she lay by him at night, she asked him sweetly whither the king of the Huns had sent him.

He answered, “I will tell thee gladly, my wife Gotelind. I go to woo a wife for my master, now that fair Helca is dead. I go to Kriemhild, on the Rhine, that shall become a great queen here among the Huns.”

“God grant it fall so, for much good have we heard of her. Haply she will make up to us for our mistress of aforetime. We might well rejoice to have her wear the crown here.”

Said the Margrave, “To them that ride with me to the Rhine, thou shalt give graciously of thy goods, dear wife. When heroes go richly attired, they be of high courage.”

She answered, “There is none, if he will take it, but shall have what suiteth him well, or thou and thy men depart.”

And the Margrave said, “Thou wilt please me well thereby.”

Ha! what rich stuffs they took from their chambers! They hasted and provided the noble warriors with vesture enow from neck to spur. What pleased him the beast, Rudeger chose for himself.

On the seventh morning the host rode from Bechlaren with his knights. They took a goodly store of weapons and raiment through Bavaria, and were seldom fallen upon by robbers on the way.

Within twelve days they came to the Rhine. The news was not slow to spread. They told the king and his men that stranger guests had arrived. Then the king began to ask that, if any knew them, he might declare it. They perceived that their sumpters were heavy laden, and saw that they were rich; and they gave them lodging in the wide city straightway.

When the stranger were arrived, the folk spied at them curiously. They wondered whence they had journeyed to the Rhine.

The king asked Hagen who the knights were, and the hero of Trony answered, “I have not seen them aright. When we meet them, I will tell thee whence they have ridden into this land. They be strangers indeed if I know them not straightway.”

The guests had been to their lodging. The envoy and his train were richly arrayed. Their clothes were good, and cunningly fashioned; and they rode to the court.

Then said bold Hagen, “So far as I know, for it is long since I saw the knights, they ride like the men of Rudeger, a bold warrior from the land of the Huns.”

“How could I believe,” said the king, “that he of Bechlaren should come into this land?” King Gunther had scarcely made an end of speaking, when bold Hagen saw the good Rudeger.

He and all his friends ran to him. Five hundred knights sprang from their horses. The Huns were well received; never were envoys so richly clad.

Then cried Hagen of Trony, “Welcome, in God’s name, is this knight, the prince of Bechlaren, and all his men.” Worshipful greeting got the Huns. The nearest of kin to the king pressed forward, and Ortwin of Metz said to Rudeger, “We have not, for long, seen guests so gladly. I speak the truth.”

They thanked the heroes for their welcome. Then they went with the warriors into the hall, where they found the king amidst of many bold men.

Gunther rose from his seat out of courtesy. On what friendly wise he went toward the envoys! He and Gernot hasted to meet the guests and his men, as beseemed them, and Gunther took Rudeger by the hand. He led him to the highseat where he sat himself, and bade his men set before the strangers goodly meats, and the best wine that was to be found in all the land round about the Rhine; the which was done gladly.

Giselher and Gary, Dankwart and Folker, came in, for they had heard of the worthy guests. They rejoiced to see them, and welcomed, in the presence of the king, the noble knights and good.

Then said Hagen of Trony to his master, “Thy knights are greatly beholden for what the Margrave hath done for our sake. The husband of fair Gotelind should be well requited.”

King Gunther said, “I pray thee tell me, for I would know, how it standeth with Etzel and Helca in the land of the Huns.”

The Margrave answered, “I will tell thee gladly.”

Then he rose from his seat with all his men, and said to the king, “Give me leave to deliver the message that King Etzel hath sent me with, here to Burgundy.”

Gunther answered, “I will hear the message wherewith thou art charged, without taking counsel with my friends. Speak it before me and my men, for with all honour shall thy suit be heard.”

Then said the faithful envoy, “My great lord commendeth his true service to thee at the Rhine, and to all the friends thou hast. This he doth with true heart. The noble king biddeth thee mourn for his loss. His people are joyless, for my mistress, great Helca, my lord’s wife, is dead; whereby many high-born maidens, children of great princes, that she hath reared, are orphaned. By reason thereof the land is full of sorrow, for these, alack! have none now to care for them. The king also ceaseth not to make dole.”

“Now God requite him,” said Gunther, “that he commendeth his service so fair to me and to my men. I have hearkened gladly to his greeting. My kinsmen and my liegemen will repay him.”

Then said Gernot of Burgundy, “The world may well rue beautiful Helca’s death, for the sake of her many virtues.”

Hagen and many another knight said the same.

But Rudeger, the noble envoy, went on: “If thou allow it, O king, I will tell thee further what my dear master hath charged me with. Dolefully hath he lived since Helca’s death. And it hath been told him that Kriemhild is without a husband, for that Siegfried is dead. If that be so, and thou grant it, she shall wear the crown before Etzel’s knights. This hath my lord bidden me say.”

Then the great king spake courteously, “If she be willing, she followeth my desire therein. In three days I will let thee know. If she say not nay to Etzel, wherefore should I?”

Meanwhile they gave the guests good lodging. On such wise were the entreated that Rudeger was fain to confess he had friends among Gunther’s men. Hagen served him gladly, the which Rudeger had done to Hagen aforetime.

So Rudeger tarried there till the third day. The king did prudently, and called a counsel, to ask his friends whether it seemed good to them that Kriemhild should take King Etzel to husband.

And they all counselled it save Hagen, that said to Gunther, the bold knight, “If thou be wise, thou wilt see to it that she do it not, even if she desire it.”

“Why should I hinder it?” said Gunther. “If any good fall to the queen, I may well grant it. She is my sister. If it be to her honour, we ourselves should seek the alliance.”

But Hagen answered, “Say not so. Didst thou know Etzel as I do, thou wouldst see that thou, first of all, must suffer if she wedded him as thou counsellest.”

“How so?” answered Gunther. “Were she his wife, I need not come so nigh him that I must feel his hate.”

But Hagen said, “I will never approve it.”

They summoned Gernot and Giselher, and asked whether it seemed good to them that Kriemhild should take the great king. And none save Hagen was against it.

Then said Giselher, the knight of Burgundy, “Do fairly by her for once, friend Hagen. Make good to her the hurt thou hast done her. Let her prosper without grudging it. Thou hast caused her much sorrow, and well might she hate thee. Never was woman bereft by any man of more joy.”

“Trow me, I know that well. And were she to take Etzel, and to live long enow, she would do us all the hurt she could. She will have many valiant men to serve her.”

But bold Gernot answered Hagen, “Belike we shall never come into Etzel’s land till they be both dead. Let us do truly by her, and it will be to our honour.”

Said Hagen, “None need tell me that. If Kriemhild wear Helca’s crown, she will do us all the hurt she can. Let the thing alone; it were better for you knights.”

Then Giselher, fair Uta’s son, spake angrily, “We will not all do basely. If aught good befall her, we shall be glad. For all thou canst say, Hagen, I will serve her truly.”

When Hagen heard that, he was wroth. Gernot and Giselher, the proud knights and good, and Gunther, the great king, agreed in the end, that they would allow it gladly, if Kriemhild were so minded.

Then Prince Gary said, “I will tell the lady, that she may incline her heart to King Etzel, for many a knight is his vassal. He may make good to her the wrong she hath suffered.”

The good knight went to Kriemhild. She welcomed him kindly, and he said without ado, “Greet me gladly, and give me the envoy’s meed, for good fortune parteth thee from all thy dole. One of the best men that ever ruled a king’s land with honour, or wore a crown, hath sent hither to sue for thy love. Noble knights are come wooing for him; thy brother bade tell thee this.”

But the sorrowful one said, “God forbid that thou and all my friends should mock my misery. What could I be to a man that hath known the heart’s love of a good wife?”

She would none of it. But Gernot, her brother, and Giselher the youth, came to her, and lovingly they bade her be comforted, for, if she took the king, it were truly to her profit.

But none could prevail on the lady to wed with any man. Then the knights prayed her, saying, “Receive the envoys, at the least, if thou wilt not yield.”

“That I will do,” said the queen; “I am fain to see Rudeger, by reason of his many virtues. Were it not he, but another envoy, I had remained a stranger to him.” She said, “Send him hither to my chamber to-morrow early, and I will tell him my mind on this matter.”

Then her bitter weeping began afresh.

Rudeger desired nothing better than to see the queen. He knew himself so skilful in speech that, could it be at all, he must prevail with her.

Early the next morning when they were singing the mass, the noble envoys came. The press was great, and the valiant men that were bound for the court with Rudeger were richly arrayed.

Poor Kriemhild, the sad-hearted one, waited for Rudeger, the noble envoy. He found her in the clothes that she wore every day, albeit her attendants were in rich raiment enow. She went to the door to meet him, and received Etzel’s man kindly. With twelve knights only he came before her. They were well entreated, for never were better envoys. They bade the warrior and his men sit down. The two Margraves, Eckewart and Gary stood before her, but all were sad of their countenance by reason of the sorrowful queen; many fair women sat round her, and Kriemhild did nothing but weep; that her robe on the bosom was wet with hot tears.

The Margrave saw this, and rose from his seat and spake courteously, “Most noble king’s daughter, grant to me and my friends that are with me, to stand before thee and tell thee the message we bring hither.”

“Thou hast permission,” said the queen; “say what thou wilt, and I will hear it gladly, for thou art a good envoy.”

The others perceived her unwilling mind, but Prince Rudeger of Bechlaren said, “Etzel, a great king, commendeth his true love to thee, here in this land. He hath sent many good knights to sue for thy love. Love without sorrow he offereth thee, and the like firm affection that he showed erstwhile to Queen Helca, that lay upon his heart. Thou shalt wear the crown, even as my mistress did aforetime.”

Then said the queen, “Margrave Rudeger, none that knew my bitter woe would counsel me to wed another man, for I lost one of the best that ever woman had.”

“What comforteth more in grief,” said the bold man, “than true love? He that chooseth to his heart’s desire findeth that naught healeth sorrow like love. If thou consent to wed my noble master, twelve royal crowns shall be thine; thereto, my lord will give thee thirty princes’ lands that his strong hand hath overcome. And thou shalt be mistress of many worshipful men, that were subject to my lady Helca, and of many beautiful maidens, the kin of kings, that she ruled over. My master bade me say that, if thou wilt wear the crown with him, he will give thee all the high power that Helca had. Mightily shalt thou wield it over Etzel’s men.”

But the queen answered, “How could I incline my heart again to be a hero’s wife? Death hath wrought me such woe through one, that I must stand joyless till my life’s end.”

The Huns answered, “Great queen, thy life by Etzel will be so glad that thou wilt know nothing save delight, if thou consent. For the king hath many a peerless knight. Helca’s maidens, and thine together, shall be thy attendants, by reason whereof many warriors shall rejoice. Be counselled, O queen, for thy good.”

She said courteously, “Let the matter stand till to-morrow morning. Come to me then; and I will answer you concerning your business.” To the which the bold knights agreed.

When they were all gone to their lodging, the lady sent for Giselher and her mother. To both she said that weeping beseemed her better than aught else.

But her brother Giselher said, “Sister, something telleth me, and I trow it, that King Etzel will end all thy dole. It seemeth good to me that thou take him to husband, whatso any other may counsel. He may give thee again all that thou hast lost. From the Rhone to the Rhine, from the Elbe to the sea, no king is so mighty as he is. Thou mayest well rejoice that he chooseth thee for his queen.”

She answered, “Dear brother, wherefore counsel me thus? Mourning and weeping suit me better. How could I appear before the knights at court? Had my body ever beauty, it hath lost it.”

Then said queen Uta to her dear daughter, “Dear child, do what thy brother saith. Be counselled by thy friends, and good will betide thee. Too long have I seen thee mourning bitterly.”

Then she asked mighty God to guide her. Albeit she might have gold and silver and apparel to give, as aforetime, when her husband lived, never again could she have the happy hours.

She thought to herself, “Shall I give myself to a heathen? I am a Christian woman. I should be shamed before the world. Though he gave me the riches of the whole earth, it could never be.”

At that point she left it; and all night long, till the day, the woman lay on her bed full of thoughts. Her bright eyes were never dry till she went to mass in the morning.

The kings also came at the hour of mass, and took their sister by the hand. They counselled her to wed the king of the Huns. But the lady was no merrier of her cheer.

Then they bade Etzel’s men come before her, that were fain to be gone with her answer, whether it was a “yea” or a “nay.” So Rudeger came to the court. His comrades urged him to learn the princes’ mind without delay. This seemed good to them all, for it was a far way back to their land.

They brought Rudeger to Kriemhild. And the knight asked the queen gently to let him hear the message she sent to Etzel. He won nothing from her but denial, for never could she love another man.

Then said the Margrave, “That were ill done. Wherefore ruin so fair a body? Still mayest thou with honour become a good man’s wife.” Yet all their entreaty availed not, till that Rudeger said secretly to the queen that he would make good to her any hurt that might befall her. At that, her grief abated somewhat.

He said to the queen, “Weep no more. If thou hadst none among the Huns save me, my faithful kinsmen, and my men, sore must he pay for it that did thee wrong.”

Much milder was the lady’s mood, and she said, “Swear me an oath that, should any do aught against me, thou wilt be the first to avenge it.”

The Margrave answered, “I will swear it.”

So Rudeger swore with all his men always to serve her truly, and to deny her nothing in Etzel’s land that her honour called for, and he confirmed it with his hand.

Then thought the faithful woman, “Since I, a forlorn woman, can win so many friends, I will let the folk say what they please. Haply I may yet avenge my dear husband’s death. Etzel hath so many knights that, were they mine to command, I could do what I would. Thereto, he is so wealthy that I shall have wherewith to bestow gifts. Cruel Hagen hath taken my treasure from me.”

She said to Rudeger, “Had I not heard he was a heathen, I would go gladly at his bidding, and take him to husband.”

The Margrave answered, “Say no more of that, Lady. He is not quite a heathen, be assured, for my dear master hath been christened; albeit he hath turned again. Haply he will think better of it shouldst thou wed him. He hath so many Christian knights that no ill could betide thee. And thou mightst easily win back the good prince, heart and soul, to God.”

Her brothers said, “Promise it, sister, and give over grieving.”

They begged it so long that at the last the sorrowful woman promised, before the warriors, to become Etzel’s wife.

She said, “Poor queen that I am, I will follow you! I will go to the Huns, if I find friends to lead me thither.” Fair Kriemhild gave her hand on it before the knights.

Then said the Margrave, “Thou hast two knights for thy liegemen, and I have more. Thou canst fare across the Rhine with honour. I will not leave thee longer here among the Burgundians. I have five hundred men and also my kinsmen. These shall serve thee here, and at home likewise, and do thy bidding. I will do it also, and will never shame me when thou mindest me on my word. Bid them fetch thee forth thy horse-gear, for thou wilt never rue Rudeger’s counsel, and tell it to the maidens that thou takest with thee. Many a chosen knight will meet us on the road.”

They had still the trappings that they rode with in Siegfried’s time, so that she could take many maidens with her in fitting pomp when she departed. Ha! what goodly saddles they brought out for the fair women! All the rich clothes they had ever worn were made ready for the journey, for they had heard much of the king. They opened the chests that had stood shut, and busied them for five days and a half, and took from the presses the store of things that lay therein. Kriemhild unlocked her chambers, that she might make Rudeger’s men rich. She had still some gold from the Nibelung hoard, that she purposed to divide with her hand among the Huns. An hundred mules scarce carried it.

Hagen heard the news, and said, “Since Kriemhild will never forgive me, Siegfried’s gold shall stay here. Wherefore should I let my foemen get so much wealth. Well I know what Kriemhild will do with this treasure. If she took it hence, she would divide it, certes, to my hurt. Tell her that Hagen will keep it.”

When she heard this, her anger was grim. They told it to the three kings, that would gladly have put it right; when they could not, noble Rudeger said joyfully, “Great Queen, why weep for thy gold? King Etzel’s love is not small. When his eyes behold thee, he will give thee more than thou canst ever spend. Take my word for it, lady.”

But the queen said, “Most noble Rudeger, never had a king’s daughter more wealth than Hagen hath taken from me.”

Then came her brother Gernot to her chamber, and, with his kingly might, stuck a key into the door, that they got Kriemhild’s gold out—thirty marks or more. He bade the guests take it, the which pleased Gunther.

But Gotelind’s husband of Bechlaren said, “Had my mistress all that was ever brought from the Nibelung land, neither mine nor the queen’s hand would touch it. Bid them keep it, for I will none of it. I brought with me so much from my home that we can lightly dispense with it, and yet live merrily by the way.”

But her maidens had filled twelve chests of the best gold that could be; they took that with them, and many women’s trinkets for the journey. But even in this thing she feared grim Hagen’s might. She had still a thousand gold marks for masses, and this she gave for the soul for her dear husband; the which Rudeger thought well done.

Then said the weeping queen, “Where are now the friends that will leave their home for my sake? Let them ride with me into the land of the Huns, and take of my treasure to buy them horses and apparel.”

The Margrave Gary spake at once, “From the day I was first given to thee for thine attendant, I have served thee faithfully,” said the knight, “and will do the same to my life’s end. I will take with me also five hundred men; these, with true heart, I make over to thee. Only death shall part us.” Kriemhild thanked the knight for his word and for his good offer.

Then they brought round the horses, for they were ready to start. There was bitter weeping of friends. Great Uta and many a fair maiden showed their grief for the loss of Kriemhild.

She took with her an hundred high-born maidens, arrayed as beseemed them. The tears ran down from bright eyes. But at Etzel’s court they had joyful days again.

Then Giselher and Gernot came with their followers, as courtesy bade them, and escorted their dear sister. A thousand valiant men they took with them. Brave Gary came, and Ortwin. Rumolt the cook had also to go. They prepared night-quarters for the women on the way. Folker was the marshal, and saw to their lodging.

After the kisses there was loud weeping, or they came from the castle to the plain. Many rode and followed on foot unbidden, but Gunther went only a little way from the town.

Or they left the Rhine, they had sent forward swift messengers to the land of the Huns, that told the king how Rudeger had won the noble queen for his wife.

The envoys sped fast; needs must they haste, for honour’s sake and the guerdon of good news. When they and their horses got home, King Etzel had never heard such welcome tidings. The king bade give the envoys so much for their message that they could live merrily ever after, till their death. For love had chased away the king’s trouble and his dole.

Twenty-First Adventure How Kriemhild Journeyed to the Huns

Let the envoys ride, and list rather while we tell you how the queen journeyed through the land, and where Giselher and Gernot parted from her. They had served her well as honour bade them. They rode as far as the Danube at Bergen; then they took their leave, that they might return to the Rhine. Among friends so good, this could not be done without weeping.

Bold Giselher said to his sister, “If thou hast need of me at any time, sister, or standest in any peril, let me know it, and I will ride to thy succour into Etzel’s land.”

She kissed all her kinsmen on the mouth, and on friendly wise the bold Burgundians took leave of Rudeger’s men. With the queen went many fair maidens, an hundred and four, richly clad in gay and costly stuffs; and they that followed Kriemhild bare broad shields enow. Then Folker, the goodly knight, turned back also.

When they were come over the Danube into Bavaria, the news was noised abroad that unknown guests were advancing. Where a cloister still standeth, and the Inn floweth into the Danube, a bishop dwelled in the town of Passau. The houses were emptied of the folk, and also the prince’s palace, and they hasted to meet the strangers in Bavaria, where Bishop Pilgerin found fair Kriemhild.

The knights of the country were not sorry when they saw so many beautiful maidens following her, and they wooed the heroes’ daughters with their eyes. Good lodging was given to the strangers, and they rested at Pledelingen. The folk rode from all quarters toward them, and they got freely all they needed. Both there and elsewhere they took it, nor lost honour thereby.

The bishop rode with his niece to Passau. When the burghers of the town got word that Kriemhild, the child of their prince’s sister, came thither, she was received with great worship by the merchants.

The bishop thought she would tarry there, but Eckewart said, “It cannot be, for we must down into Rudeger’s land. Many knights await us that know of our coming.”

Fair Gotelind also had heard the news. She and her high-born child made them ready in haste, for Rudeger had bidden her cheer the queen by riding to meet her with all his men, as far as the Enns. This was no sooner done than the roads were thronged with folk riding and running afoot to meet the guests.

The queen was now come to Efferding. There many a Bavarian robber had gladly plundered them on the road, as their custom is, and had easily done them a hurt. But noble Rudeger had guarded against this; he had with him a thousand knights or more. Rudeger’s wife, Gotelind, too, was come thither, and with her many bold warriors. When they had crossed the Traun at Enns, they found booths and tents pitched for them on the plain where they were to sleep. Rudeger took all the charges on himself.

Gotelind set out from her quarters, and many horses with jingling bridles took the road. It was a fair welcome, and done for Rudeger’s sake. The knights, from both sides, pricked gallantly to the greeting, and showed their horsemanship in the presence of the maidens, that saw it gladly enow. When Rudeger’s men rode up to the strangers, many a splinter flew into the air from the hands of the heroes, that tilted on knightly wise. They rode to win praise from the women. When the tourney was ended, the men greeted each other, and fair Gotelind was led to Kriemhild. There was little rest for any skilled to wait upon women.

The Margrave rode to meet his wife, that was not sorry to see him come back safe from the Rhine. In her joy she forgot her long dole. When she had welcomed him, he bade her alight on the grass with her attendants. The knights hasted to serve them.

When Kriemhild saw the Margravine standing with her train, she went no further, but stayed her horse and bade them lift her quickly from the saddle. The bishop led his sister’s child, he and Eckewart, to Gotelind, and all that stood in the way fell back. Then the stranger kissed the Margravine on the mouth, and Rudeger’s wife said sweetly, “Well for me, dear lady, that I have seen with mine eyes thy fair body here in this land! Naught so welcome hath, for long, befallen me.” “God reward thee, noble Gotelind,” answered Kriemhild. “If I be spared alive to live with Botlung’s child, it may indeed be well for thee that thou hast seen me.” Neither of them knew that which was to be.

The maidens, attended by the knights, advanced and greeted each other courteously; then they sat down on the clover, and many that had been strangers became acquainted. They bade pour out wine for the women; and, seeing it was already noon, they rested there no longer, but rode till they came to broad pavilions, where they were well served. They stayed there the night through, till the early morning.

The folk of Bechlaren had not failed to make them ready for the many worshipful guests, and Rudeger had so ordered it that these wanted for little. The windows in the walls were thrown wide, the Castle of Bechlaren stood open, and the welcome guests rode in. The noble host bade provide good lodging for them all. Rudeger’s daughter advanced with her attendants and received the queen right sweetly, and her mother, the Margravine, was there also. Many a maiden was lovingly greeted. They took hands and went together into a wide and goodly hall, below which flowed the Danube. There they sat merrily, and the breeze blew upon them.

What they did further, I cannot say. Kriemhild’s knights were heard mourning that they must away so soon; it irked them sore. Ha! what good warriors rode with them from Bechlaren.

Rudeger did them right loving service. They queen gave Gotelind’s daughter twelve red armlets, and, thereto, goodly raiment of the best that she had brought with her into Etzel’s land. Albeit she was bereft of the Nibelung gold, she won to her all that saw her with the small store that remained to her. Goodly were the gifts she bestowed on the followers of the host. In return, the lady Gotelind did the guests from the Rhine such honour that it had been hard to find any among them without jewels or rich apparel from her hand.

When they had eaten, and it was time to be gone, the hostess commended her true service to Etzel’s wife, who, from her side, embraced the fair Margravine lovingly. And the maiden said to the queen, “Well I know, if it seem good to thee, that my father would gladly send me into the land of the Huns to be with thee.” Kriemhild found her true indeed!

The horses stood ready before Bechlaren; the noble queen had taken leave of Rudeger’s wife and daughter, and, with many a sweet farewell, the maidens parted; seldom did they meet again.

The folk of Medilick brought out in their hands rich golden vessels, and offered them, full of wine, to the guests on the road, and bade them welcome. The host of the place hight Astolt, that showed them the way into Austria, by Mautern down below on the Danube; and here, again, the great queen was paid much worship.

At that point the bishop parted lovingly from his niece, after that he had prayed earnestly that she might prosper, and win herself honour even as Helca had done. Ha! what fame was hers after, among the Huns!

So the strangers fared on to the Traisem, diligently waited on by Rudeger’s men, till that the Huns were seen riding across the land. Mickle worship was done there to the queen.

Fast by the Traisem the King of the Huns had a goodly castle and a famous, called Traisenmauer. There Helca had dwelled and ruled more mildly than any hath done since, save Kriemhild, who likewise gave freely of her goods. Well might she live happily after her mourning, and win praise from Etzel’s men, the which the heroes soon gave her to the full.

So famed was Etzel’s rule that the boldest knights ever heard of among Christians or heathens drew ceaselessly to his court; and all these were come with him. One saw there what one never sees now—Christian and heathen together. Howso divers their beliefs were, the king gave with such free hand that all had plenty.

Twenty-Second Adventure How She Was Received Among the Huns

She tarried at Traisenmauer till the fourth day, during which time the dust on the road was never still, but rose like flame from all sides. And King Etzel’s men rode thither through Austria.

When it was told to the king how proudly Kriemhild advanced through the land, his old sorrow vanished clean from his mind, and he set out to meet the fair one. In front of him on the way rode many a bold knight—a vast host of Christians and heathens of many divers tongues. When they spied the queen, they came on in stately array. Russians and Greeks were there. Polacks and Wallachians spurred along, deftly managing their good horses, displaying themselves each according to the custom of his own land. From Kiow came many a knight. Savage Petschenegers were there also, that shot with their bows at the birds that flew by, and drew their arrow-heads strongly to the utmost stretch of the bow.

In Austria, by the Danube, is a town that hight Tulna. There Kriemhild learned many a strange custom that she had not seen afore, and was welcomed by not a few that, after, suffered dole through her.

The men of King Etzel’s household rode before him, merry and rich-attired, fair accoutred and courtly: full four and twenty princes, great and noble. To behold their queen was all they sought. Duke Ramung of Wallachia spurred up to her with seven hundred men. They sped like birds on the wing. Then came Prince Gibek with a gallant host. Hornbog, the swift, pricked forward from the king’s side to his mistress with echoing shouts, after the fashion of his country. Etzel’s kinsmen, likewise, spurred hotly toward her. Next came bold Hawart of Denmark, and swift Iring, free from guile; and Irnfried of Thuringia, a brave man. These, with the twelve hundred men that made up their host, received Kriemhild with all worship. Then came Sir Blœdel, King Etzel’s brother, from the land of the Huns; with great pomp, he drew nigh to the queen. The next was King Etzel, with Sir Dietrich and all his knights, among the which were many good warriors faithful and true; whereat the heart of Queen Kriemhild was uplifted.

Then Sir Rudeger said to the queen, “Lady, the king would welcome thee here. Kiss them that I bid thee kiss. It is not meet that all Etzel’s men be greeted on like manner.”

So they lifted the queen down from her palfrey. Etzel, the great monarch, tarried no longer, but sprang from his horse with many a bold knight, and hasted joyfully toward Kriemhild. Two mighty princes, they tell us, walked by the queen and carried her train when King Etzel went toward her, and she received him sweetly with kisses. She pushed back her head-band, and her bright skin shone from out the gold, till many a man vowed that queen Helca could not have been fairer. Blœdel, the king’s brother, stood close at hand, whom Rudeger, the wealthy Margrave, bade her kiss; also King Gibek, and Dietrich likewise. Twelve knights were kissed by her, and many others were kindly greeted.

All the time that Etzel stood by Kriemhild, the youths did as the custom is still. Christian knights and heathen jousted, each after his own fashion. Dietrich’s men, as beseemed good warriors, hurled the whizzing shafts high above the shields, with undaunted hand. Bucklers enow were pierced before the German guests. Mickle din was there of splintered lances. All the knights of the land were gathered together, and the king’s guests also, among the which were many noble men. Then the great king went with the queen into a stately pavilion. The field round about was full of tents, that they might rest after their labour. Thither the heroes led the beautiful maidens after the queen, who sat down therein on a rich couch. The Margrave had so ordered it, that they found it all goodly and fair. High beat the heart of Etzel.

What they said to each other I know not. Kriemhild’s white hand lay in the king’s. They sat lovingly together, but Rudeger allowed not the king to caress his bride in secret.

They bade stay the tourney. The din of the fray ended with honour, and Etzel’s men went to their tents, where they had spacious lodging. That evening, and through the night, they rested in comfort, till the morning light began to shine. Then they got to horse again. Ha! what sports they drave for the glory of the king! Etzel exhorted his Huns to do as honour bade.

Then they rode from Tulna to the town of Vienna. There they found many women featly adorned, that received Etzel’s wife with much worship. All that they needed was there in plenty, and the heroes rejoiced against the festival. Lodging was given them, and the king’s hightide began merrily. There was not room for all in the town, and Rudeger bade them that were not guests take up their quarters in the country round about. All this time, I trow, the king was not far from Kriemhild. Sir Dietrich, and many another knight beside, slacked not in their endeavour to cheer the hearts of the strangers. Rudeger and his friends had good pastime.

The festival fell on a Whitsuntide, when King Etzel wedded Kriemhild in the town of Vienna. She had not, certes, had so many men to serve her in her first husband’s time. With her gifts she made herself known to many that had never seen her afore, among the which were some that said to the guests, “We deemed that Kriemhild possessed naught. Yet here she doeth wonders with her wealth.”

The hightide lasted seventeen days. Of no king, I ween, is it told, that he held a longer marriage feast; at the least we wot of none. All the guests wore new apparel. At home, in the Netherland, Kriemhild had never sat before so many knights; yea, I trow, that albeit Siegfried had great possessions, he had never at command so many noble warriors as stood before Etzel. Nor had any king ever given at his own wedding such store of rich mantles, long and wide, nor such goodly vesture, whereof he had enow and to spare. For Kriemhild’s sake he did it all.

Friends and strangers were of one mind. They grudged not their dearest possession. Whatso any asked for was readily given, till that many a knight, through his charity, was left bare and without clothes.

When the queen thought how once she had sat by the Rhine with her noble husband, her eyes grew wet. But she hid it, that none knew. Great honour was now hers after her mickle dole.

Howso freely the others gave, it was but a wind compared with Dietrich. What Botlung’s son had given him was no wall spent. The open hand of Rudeger also did great wonders. Prince Blœdel, too, of Hungary, bade empty many a travelling chest, and scatter freely both silver and gold. Right merrily lived the warriors of the king. Werbel and Schwemmel, the court minstrels, won, each, at the hightide, when Kriemhild wore the crown beside Etzel, a thousand marks or more.

On the eighteenth morning they rode away from Vienna. Many a shield was pierced in knightly encounter by the spears which the heroes bare in their hands. So Etzel returned to the land of the Huns rejoicing. They stayed the night at ancient Haimburg. None could number the host, nor tell how many strong they rode through the land. Ha! what beautiful women they found waiting them in their home! At Misenburg, the wealthy city, they went aboard ships. The water was covered with horses and men, as if the dry land had begun to float. There the way-weary women had ease and comfort. The good ships were lashed together, that wave and water might not hurt them, and fair awnings were stretched above, as they had been still on the plain.

When word thereof came to Etzel’s castle, both women and men rejoiced. Etzel’s household, that Helca had aforetime ruled, passed many a happy day with Kriemhild. Noble maidens stood waiting, that since Helca’s death had suffered heart’s dole. Kriemhild found there seven kings’ daughters that were for an adornment to Etzel’s whole land. The charge of the damsels was with Herrat, Helca’s sister’s daughter, famed for virtue, and the betrothed of Dietrich, a noble king’s child, the daughter of Nentwine; the which afterward had much worship. Glad of her cheer was she at the coming of the guests, and many a goodly thing was made ready. What tongue might tell how merrily King Etzel dwelled there? Never under any queen fared the Huns better.

When the king rode up with his wife from the strand, Kriemhild was told the name of them that led forward the maidens, that she might greet them the more fitly. Ha! how mightily she ruled in Helca’s stead! She had true servants in plenty. The queen gave gold and vesture, silver and precious stones. All that she had brought with her from over the Rhine to the Huns, she divided among them. All the king’s kinsmen and liegemen vowed their service to her, and were subject to her, so that Helca herself had never ruled so mightily as Kriemhild, that they had all to serve till her death.

So famous was the court and the country, that each found there, at all times, the pastime he desired; so kind was the king and so good the queen.

Twenty-Third Adventure How Kriemhild Thought of Revenging Her Wrong

So, in high honour (I say sooth), they dwelled together till the seventh year. Meanwhile Kriemhild had borne a son. Nothing could have rejoiced Etzel more. She set her heart on it that he should receive Christian baptism. He was named Ortlieb, and glad was all Etzel’s land.

For many a day Kriemhild ruled virtuously, even as Helca aforetime. Herrat, the foreign maiden, that still mourned bitterly for Helca in secret, taught her the customs of the country. Strangers and friends alike praised her, and owned that never queen had ruled a king’s land better or more mildly. For this she was famed among the Huns till the thirteenth year.

When now she saw that none withstood her (the which a king’s knights will sometimes do to their prince’s wife), and that twelve kings stood ever before her, she thought on the grievous wrongs that had befallen her in her home. She remembered also the honour that was hers among the Nibelungs, and that Hagen’s hand had robbed her of by Siegfried’s death, and she pondered how she might work him woe.

“It were easily done, could I but bring him hither.” She dreamed that she walked hand in hand with Giselher her brother, and oft, in sweet sleep, she kissed him. Evil came of it after.

It was the wicked Devil, I ween, that counselled Kriemhild to part from Gunther in friendship, and to be reconciled to him with a kiss in the land of Burgundy. She began to wet her vesture anew with hot tears. Late and early it lay on her heart, how that, through no fault of hers, she had been forced to wed a heathen. Hagen and Gunther had done this wrong to her.

Never a day passed but she longed to be revenged. She thought, “Now I am so rich and powerful that I could do mine enemies a mischief. Were it Hagen of Trony, I were nothing loth. My heart still yearneth for my beloved. Could I but win to them that worked me woe, well would the death of my dear one be avenged. It is hard to wait,” said the sorrowful woman.

All her knights, the king’s men, loved her, as was meet. Her chamberlain was Eckewart, that thereby won many friends. None durst withstand Kriemhild’s will.

Every day she thought to herself, “I will ask the king.” She deemed that, of his goodness, he would send for her friends and bring them into the land of the Huns. None guessed her evil intent.

One night, when she lay by the king, and he held her in his arms, as was his wont, for she was to him as his life, the royal woman thought on her foes, and said to him, “My dearest lord, I would fain beg a boon of thee. I would have thee show, if I have deserved it at thy hand, that my kinsmen have found favour in thy sight.”

The great king answered with true heart, “That will I readily prove to thee. All that profiteth and doth honour to the knights rejoiceth me, for through no woman’s love have I won better friends.”

Then said the queen, “Thou knowest well that I have noble kinsmen. It irketh me that they visit me so seldom. The folk here deem me kinless.”

Whereto King Etzel answered, “My dearest wife, if it be not too far, I will invite across the Rhine whomsoever thou wouldst gladly see, and bid them hither to my land.”

The woman was well content when she discovered his mind on the matter, and said, “If thou wouldst truly please me, my lord, thou wilt dispatch envoys to Worms beyond the Rhine. I will inform my friends of my desire by these; so, many good knights will come hither into our land.”

He answered, “Thy wish shall be obeyed. Thy kinsmen, noble Uta’s sons, will not be so welcome to thee as to me. It irketh me sore that they have been strangers so long. If it seem good to thee, dearest wife, I will send my minstrels as envoys to thy friends in Burgundy.”

He bade summon the good fiddlers straightway, that hasted to where he sat by the queen, and he told them both to go as envoys to Burgundy. He let fashion rich clothes for them; for four and twenty knights they made apparel, and the king gave them the message wherewith they were to invite Gunther and his men. And Kriemhild began to speak to them in secret.

Then said the great king, “I will tell ye what ye shall do. I send to my friends love and every good wish, and pray them to ride hither to my land. I know few other guests so dear. And if Kriemhild’s kinsmen be minded to do my will, bid them fail not to come, for love of me, to my hightide, for my heart yearneth toward the brethren of my wife.”

Whereto Schwemmel, the proud minstrel, answered, “When shall thy hightide fall, that we may tell thy friends yonder?”

King Etzel said, “Next midsummer.”

“Thy command shall be obeyed,” answered Werbel.

The queen bade summon the envoys secretly to her chamber, and spake with them. Little good came thereof. She said to the two envoys, “Ye shall deserve great reward if ye do my bidding well, and deliver the message wherewith I charge you, at home, in my land. I will make you rich in goods, and give you sumptuous apparel. See that ye say not to any of my friends at Worms, by the Rhine, that ye have ever seen me sad of my cheer, and commend my service to the heroes bold and good. Beg them to grant the king’s prayer and end all my sorrow. The Huns deem me without kin. Were I a knight, I would go to them myself. Say to Gernot, my noble brother, that none is better minded to him in the world than I. Bid him bring here our best friends, that we win honour. And tell Giselher to remember that never, through his fault, did ill betide me; for which reason mine eyes are fain to behold him. Evermore I would serve him. Tell my mother, also, what worship is mine. And if Hagen of Trony tarry behind, who shall lead them through the land? From a child up he hath known the roads hither to the Huns.”

The envoys guessed not why she could not leave Hagen of Trony at the Rhine. They knew it afterward to their cost, for, through him, many a knight was brought face to face with grim death.

Letters and greetings were given to them. They rode forth rich in goods, that they might live merrily by the way. They took leave of Etzel and his fair wife. Their bodies were adorned with goodly vesture.

Twenty-Fourth Adventure How Werbel and Schwemmel Brought the Message

When Etzel sent his fiddlers to the Rhine, the news flew from land to land. By means of swift messengers, he invited guests to his hightide. There many met their death.

The envoys rode from the country of the Huns to the Burgundians, even to the three noble kings and their men, to bid them to Etzel’s court, and hasted on the way. They came to Bechlaren, where they were well seen to, and nothing lacked to their entertainment. Rudeger and Gotelind, and the Margrave’s child also, sent their greeting by them to the Rhine. Not without gifts went Etzel’s men forth, that they might fare the better on the road. Rudeger commended him to Uta and her sons; never Margrave was so true to them as he. To Brunhild, likewise, they commended their true service and their steadfast faith and love. When the envoys had heard the message, they set out again, and the Margravine prayed God in Heaven to guard them.

Or they left Bavaria, swift Werbel sought out the bishop: what greeting he sent to his friends by the Rhine I know not. But he gave his red gold to the envoys out of love, and let them ride on. Bishop Pilgerin said, “Right gladly would I see my sister’s sons here. Seldom, alack! can I win to them at the Rhine.”

I cannot tell by what road they fared through the land; but none took from them their silver and fine clothes, for all feared the wrath of their master: the great king was mighty and of high lineage.

Within twelve days Werbel and Schwemmel reached Worms on the Rhine. And the king sand their men were told the news, that foreign envoys were come. Thereupon Gunther, the prince of the Rhine, began to question his folk, and said, “Who will tell us whence these strangers are come riding into the land?”

And none knew, till that Hagen of Trony saw the envoys, and said to Gunther, “We shall have news, I promise thee, for I have seen Etzel’s fiddlers here. Thy sister hath sent them. Let us welcome them right heartily for their master’s sake.”

They rode straight to the palace. Never goodlier show made the minstrels of a king. Gunther’s courtiers hasted to meet them, and gave them lodging, and bade see to their gear. Their travelling clothes were rich and well fashioned. With all honour they might have gone before the king therein. Yet they scorned to wear them at the court, and asked whether any desired them. There was no lack of needy folk, that took them gladly, and to these they were sent. Then the guests clad them in rich apparel, as beseemed the envoys of a king.

Etzel’s men got leave to go before Gunther. They that saw them rejoiced. Hagen sprang from his seat and ran to them, and received them lovingly, for which the youths thanked him. He asked for news of Etzel and his men, whereto the fiddlers made answer, “The land was never more prosperous, nor the people more joyful; know that of a surety.”

He led them before the king, through the hall full of folk, and the guests were well received, as envoys should ever be in foreign kings’ lands. Werbel found many a knight by Gunther.

The gracious prince greeted them, and said, “Ye are both welcome, Etzel’s minstrels, ye and your followers. Wherefore hath the mighty Etzel sent you into Burgundy?”

They bowed before him, and Werbel answered, “My dear master, and Kriemhild thy sister, commend their service to thee. With true intent they have sent us hither to you, O knights.”

Then said the noble prince, “I rejoice at the tidings. How fareth it with Etzel, and Kriemhild my sister?”

Whereto the fiddler answered, “Never was king of any land better or happier, nor his kinsmen nor vassals; know that for certain. Right glad were they when we set forth on this journey.”

“Thank him and my sister for their greeting. I rejoice that it is well with the king and his folk, for I asked, much fearing.”

The two young kings were also come in, and had heard the news for the first time. Giselher, the youth, was glad to see the envoys, for love of his sister, and said to them kindly, “Ye be heartily welcome. If ye came oftener to the Rhine, ye would find friends worth the seeing. Small ill should betide you here.”

“I trow it well,” answered Schwemmel. “Word of mine cannot tell thee how right lovingly Etzel commendeth him to thee, and eke thy sister, that is holden in high esteem. The king’s wife biddeth thee remember thy love and faith, and that thou wert ever true to her in heart and soul. And, first of all, we are sent to the king, to invite you to ride into Etzel’s land, and Sir Gernot with you. Mighty Etzel commanded me to say to you all that, even if ye desire not to see your sister, he would fain learn what wrong he hath done you, that ye are such strangers to him and his court. Had ye never known the queen, he deserveth no less of you than that ye come to see him. If ye consent to this, ye shall please him well.”

And Gunther answered, “A sennight from now I will let thee know what I and my friends have determined on. Go meanwhile to thy lodging and rest.”

But Werbel said, “Might we not, ere we seek repose, win audience of great Uta?”

Whereto the noble Giselher answered courteously, “None shall hinder you, for in this ye shall have done my mother’s will. For the sake of my sister, Queen Kriemhild, she will see you gladly. Right welcome shall ye be.”

Giselher brought them before the lady, who rejoiced to see envoys from the land of the Huns. Kindly and lovingly she greeted them, and the courtly messengers and good delivered their tidings. “My mistress commendeth to thee,” said Schwemmel, “her service and her true love. Could she but have sight of thee oftener, naught on earth were dearer to her.”

But the queen answered, “That cannot be. The noble king’s wife dwelleth, alack! too far from me. Blessed evermore be she and Etzel. Fail not to send me word of your departure, when ye are about to return home. It is long since envoys were so welcome as ye are.” And the youths promised that they would do it.

The Huns went to their lodging. Meanwhile, the great king had sent for his friends, and noble Gunther asked his men how the message pleased them. And many of them began to say that he might well ride into Etzel’s land. The best among them counselled him thereto—all save Hagen. Him it irked exceedingly. He said to the king apart, “Ye strike at your own life. Surely ye know what we have done. Evermore we stand in danger from Kriemhild. I smote her husband dead with my hand. How dare we ride into Etzel’s land?”

But the king answered, “My sister forgot her anger. With a loving kiss she forgave us for all we had done to her or she rode away. Hath she aught against any, it is against thee alone, Hagen.”

“Be not deceived,” said Hagen, “by the words of the Hunnish envoys. If thou goest to see Kriemhild, thou mayst lose thine honour and thy life. The wife of King Etzel hath a long memory.”

Then Gernot spake out before the assembly, “Because thou fearest death with reason among the Huns, it were ill done on our part to keep away from our sister.”

And Sir Giselher said to the knight, “Since thou knowest thyself guilty, friend Hagen, stay thou at home, and guard thyself well, and let them that dare, journey with us to the Huns.”

Then the knight of Trony fell into a passion. “None that ye take with you will be readier to ride to the court than I. And well I will prove it, since ye will not be turned.”

But knight Rumolt, the cook, said, “Strangers and friends ye can entertain at home, at your pleasure. For here is abundance. Hagen, I trow, hath never held you back afore. If ye will not follow him in this, be counselled by Rumolt (for your true and loving servant am I) and tarry here as I would have ye do, and leave King Etzel yonder by Kriemhild. Where in the wide world could ye be better? Here ye are safe from your enemies. Ye can adorn your bodies with goodly vesture, drink the best wine, and woo fair women. Thereto, ye are given meats, the best on earth that ever king ate. The land is prosperous. Ye may give up Etzel’s hightide with honour, and live merrily at home with your friends. Even had ye nothing else to feat on here, I could always give you your fill of one dish—cutlets fried in oil. This is Rumolt’s advice, my masters, since there is danger among the Huns. Never again, I trow, will Kriemhild be your friend, nor have you and Hagen deserved otherwise. Stay here, ye knights, else ye may rue it. Ye shall find in the end that my counsel is not bad: wherefore heed my words. Rich are your lands. Here ye can redeem your pledges better than among the Huns. Who knoweth how things stand there. Abide where ye are. That is Rumolt’s counsel.”

“We will not stay here,” said Gernot. “Since my sister and great Etzel have bidden us so lovingly, why should we refuse? He that will not with us may tarry at home.”

“By my troth,” said Rumolt, “I, for one, will never cross the Rhine for Etzel’s hightide. Why should I hazard what I have? I will live while I may.”

“I am of thy mind for that,” said knight Ortwin. “I will help thee to order things at home.”

And there were many that would not go, and said, “God guard you among the Huns.”

The king was wroth when he saw they desired to take their ease at home. “We will go none the less. The prudent are safe in the midst of danger.”

Hagen answered, “Be not wroth at my word. Whatever betide, I counsel thee in good faith to ride strongly armed to the Huns. Since thou wilt not be turned, summon the best men thou canst find, or knowest of, among thy vassals, and from among them I will choose a thousand good knights, that thou come not in scathe by Kriemhild’s anger.”

“I will do this,” said the king straightway. And he bade messengers ride abroad through the country. Three thousand or more heroes they brought back with them.

They thought not to meet so grim a doom. Merrily they rode into Gunter’s land. To all them that were to journey to the Huns horses and apparel were given. The king found many willing. Hagen of Trony bade Dankwart, his brother, lead eighty of their knights to the Rhine. They came in proud array, bringing harness and vesture with them. Bold Folker, a noble minstrel, arrived with thirty of his men for the journey. A king might well have worn their raiment. He told Gunther that these would also visit the Huns.

I will tell you who Folker was. He was a noble knight, and many good warriors in Burgundy were his vassals. He was called a minstrel because he played on the viol.

Hagen chose a thousand that he knew well, and the prowess of whose hand he had seen in grim battle, and in warlike deeds. None could deny their valour.

It irked Kriemhild’s envoys to be delayed, for they greatly feared their master, and every day they desired to be gone. But Hagen kept them for his crafty ends. He said to his lord, “We must beware of letting them go or we be ready to follow them, in a sennight. We shall be safer so, if they mean us harm. Kriemhild will not have the time to contrive our hurt. Or, if she be minded thereto, it may go ill with her, since we lead with us to the Huns so many chosen men.”

Shields and saddles and all the vesture they were to take with them, to Etzel’s land, were now ready, and Kriemhild’s envoys were bidden to Gunther’s presence. When they appeared, Gernot said, “The king will obey Etzel’s wish. We go gladly to his hightide to see our sister. She may count on us.”

Gunther asked, “Can ye tell us when the hightide falleth, or when we must set forth?”

And Schwemmel answered, “Next midsummer, without fail.”

The king gave them leave, for the first time, to visit Brunhild, but Folker, to please her, said them nay.

“Queen Brunhild is not well enow for you to see her,” said the good knight. “Wait till morning, and ye shall win audience of her.” They had fain beheld her, but could not.

Then the rich prince, that he might show favour to the envoys, bade bring thither of his own bounty gold upon broad shields. He had plenty thereof. His friends also gave them rich gifts. Giselher and Gernot, Gary and Ortwin, let it be seen that they could give freely. They offered such costly things to the envoys that these durst not take them, for fear of their master.

Then said Werbel to the king, “Keep your gifts, O king, in your own land. We may not carry them with us. My lord forbade us to take aught. Thereto, we have small need.” But the prince of the Rhine was angry because they refused so great a king’s gift. So, at the last, they were constrained to take his gold and vesture, and carry them home into Etzel’s land.

They desired to see Uta or they departed. Giselher, the youth, brought the minstrels before his mother, and the lady bade them say that she rejoiced to hear how that Kriemhild was had in worship. For the sake of Kriemhild, that she loved, and of King Etzel, the queen gave the envoys girdles and gold. Well might they receive this, for with true heart it was offered.

The envoys had now taken leave of both men and women, and rode merrily forward to Swabia. Gernot sent his warriors with them thus far, that none might do them a hurt.

When their escorts parted from them, Etzel’s might kept them safe by the way, that none robbed them of horses or vesture. Then they spurred swiftly to the land of the Huns. Them that they knew for friends, they told that the Burgundians from the Rhine would pass there shortly. They brought the tidings also to Bishop Pilgerin.

When they rode down by Bechlaren, they failed not to send word to Rudeger and Dame Gotelind, the Margrave’s wife, that was merry of her cheer because she was to see the guests so soon.

The minstrels were seen spurring through the land. They found Etzel in his town of Gran. They gave the king, that grew red for joy, the greetings that had been sent him.

When the queen heard for certain that her brothers would come, she was well content, and requited the minstrels with goodly gifts, which did her honour. She said, “Now tell me, both of you, Werbel and Schwemmel, which of my friends, of the best that we have bidden, come to the hightide. What said Hagen when he heard the news?”

“He came to the council one morning early. He had little good to say of the hightide. It was named by grim Hagen the death-ride. Thy brothers, the three kings, come in merry mood. Who further are with them I cannot say. Folker, the bold minstrel, is one.”

“I had made shift to do without Folker,” said the king’s wife. “Hagen I esteem; he is a good knight. I am right glad that we shall see him here.”

Then Kriemhild went to the king, and spake to him right sweetly, “How doth the news please thee, dearest lord? All my heart’s desire shall now be satisfied.”

“Thy will is my pleasure,” answered the king. “I were less glad had it been mine own kinsmen. Through love of thy dear brethren all my cares have vanished.”

Etzel’s officers bade fit up palace and hall everywhere with seats for the welcome guests. They took much joy from the king.

Twenty-Fifth Adventure How the Kings Journeyed to the Huns

But of their doings there we shall tell no further. High-hearted heroes never rode so proudly into any king’s land. All that they wanted they had, both of weapons and apparel. They say that the Prince of the Rhine equipped a thousand and three score of knights, and nine thousand squires for the hightide. They that tarried at home were soon to weep for them.

Whilst they carried their harness across the court at Worms, an old bishop from Spires said to fair Uta, “Our friends will ride to the hightide. God help them there.”

Then noble Uta said to her children, “Stay here, good heroes. Last night I dreamed an evil dream, that all the birds in this land were dead.”

“He that goeth by dreams,” said Hagen, “careth little for his honour. I would have my noble master take leave without delay, and ride forward merrily into Etzel’s land. There kings need heroes’ hands to serve them, and we must see Kriemhild’s hightide.”

Hagen counselled them now to the journey, but he rued it later. He had withstood them, but that Gernot had mocked him. He minded him on Siegfried, Kriemhild’s husband, and said, “It is for that, that Hagen durst not go.”

But Hagen said, “I hold not back from fear. If ye will have it so, heroes, go forward. I am ready to ride with you to Etzel’s land.” Soon many a helmet and shield were pierced by him.

The ships lay waiting for the kings and their men. They carried their vesture down to them, and were busy till eventide. Merry of cheer they quitted their homes. On the camping ground across the Rhine they pitched tents and put up booths. The king’s fair wife entreated him to stay, for much she loved him. Flutes and trumpets rang out early in the morning, and gave the signal to be gone. Many a true lover was torn from his loved one’s arms by King Etzel’s wife.

King Uta’s sons had a liegeman bold and true. When he saw they would forth, he spake to the king secretly, “Much I grieve that thou goest to this hightide.” Rumolt was his name, a chosen knight. He said, “To whom wilt thou leave thy folk and thy land? Alack! that none can turn you knights from your purpose! Kriemhild’s message never pleased me.”

“I leave my land and child in thy charge. I will have it so. Comfort them that thou seest weeping. Etzel’s wife will do us no hurt!”

The king held a council with his chief men or he started. He left not land and castles defenceless. Many a chosen knight stayed behind to guard them.

The horses stood ready for the kings and their followers. With sweet kisses parted many whose hearts still beat high. Noble women soon wept for them. Wailing was there, with tears enow. The queen bare her child in her arms to the king. “How canst thou leave us both desolate? Stay for our sake,” said the sorrowful woman.

“Weep not for me, but be of good cheer here at home. We shall return shortly, safe and sound.”

So they waited no longer, but lovingly took leave of their friends. When the bold knights were gotten to horse, many women stood sorrowing. Their hearts told them it was a long parting. None is merry of his cheer when bitter woe is at hand.

The swift Burgundians rode off, and there was hurrying in the land. On either side the mountains both men and women wept. But, for all the folk could do, they pressed forward merrily. A thousand of the Nibelung knights in habergeons went with them, that had left fair women at home, the which they never saw more. The wounds of Siegfried gaped in Kriemhild’s heart.

The Christian faith was still weak in those days. Nevertheless they had a chaplain with them to say mass. He returned alive, escaped from much peril. The rest tarried dead among the Huns. Gunther’s men shaped their course toward the Main, up through East Frankland. Hagen led them, that knew the way well. Their Marshal was Dankwart, the knight of Burgundy. As they rode from East Frankland to Schwanfeld, the princes and their kinsmen, knights of worship, were known by their stately mien.

On the twelfth morning the king reached the Danube. Hagen of Trony rode in front of the rest. He was the helper and comforter of the Nibelungs. The bold knight alighted there on the bank, and tied his horse to a tree. The river was swoln, there was no boat, and the knights were troubled how to win across. The water was too wide. Many a bold knight sprang to the ground.

“Mischief might easily befall thee here, King of Rhineland,” said Hagen; “thou canst see for thyself that the river is swoln, and the current very strong. I fear me we shall lose here to-day not a few good knights.”

“Wherefore daunt me, Hagen?” said the proud king. “Of thy charity fright us no more. Look out a ford for us, that we bring both horses and baggage safe across.”

“I am no so weary of life,” said Hagen, “that I desire to drown in these broad waves. Many a man in Etzel’s land shall first fall by my hand. That is more to my mind. Stay by the water side, ye proud knights and good, and I will seek the ferrymen by the river, that will bring us safe into Gelfrat’s land.”

Thereupon stark Hagen took his good shield. He was well armed. He bare his buckler. He laced on his shining helmet. He wore a broad weapon above his harness, that cut grimly with both its edges.

Then he sought the ferrymen up and down. He heard the splash of water and began to listen. It came from mermaidens that bathed their bodies in a clear brook to cool them.

Hagen spied them, and stole up secretly. When they were ware of him, they fled. Well pleased were they to escape him. The hero took their garments, but did them no further annoy.

Then one of the mermaids (she hight Hadburg) said, “We will tell thee, noble Hagen, if thou give us our clothes again, how ye shall all fare on this journey among the Huns.”

They swayed like birds in the water before him. He deemed them wise and worthy of belief, so that he trusted the more what they told him. They informed him concerning all that he asked them. Hadburg said, “Ye may ride safely into Etzel’s land; I pledge my faith thereon, that never yet heroes journeyed to any court to win more worship. I say sooth.”

Hagen’s heart was uplifted at her word; he gave them back their clothes and stayed no longer. When they had put on their wonderful raiment, they told him the truth about the journey.

The other mermaid, that hight Sieglind, said, “Be warned, Hagen, son of Aldrian. My aunt hath lied to thee because of her clothes. If ye go to the Huns, ye are ill-advised. Turn while there is time, for ye bold knights have been bidden that ye may die in Etzel’s land. Who rideth thither hath death at his hand.”

But Hagen said, “Your deceit is vain. How should we all tarry there, dead, through the hate of one woman?”

Then they began to foretell it plainer, and Hadburg said also, “Ye are doomed. Not one of you shall escape, save the king’s chaplain: this we know for a truth. He, only, shall return alive into Gunther’s land.”

Grimly wroth spake bold Hagen then. “It were a pleasant thing to tell my masters that we must all perish among the Huns! Show us a way across the water, thou wisest of womankind.”

She answered, “Since thou wilt not be turned from the journey, up yonder by the river standeth an inn. Within it is a boatman; there is none beside.”

He betook him thither to ask further. But the mermaidens cried after the wrothful knight, “Stay, Sir Hagen. Thou art too hasty. Hearken first concerning the way. The lord of this march hight Elsy. The name of his brother is Gelfrat, a prince in Bavaria. It might go hard with thee if thou wentest through his march. Look well to thyself, and proceed warily with the boatman. He is so grim of his mood that he will kill thee, if thou speak him not fair. If thou wouldst have him ferry thee across, give him hire. He guardeth this land, and is Gelfrat’s friend. If he come not straightway, cry across the river to him that thou art Amelrich; he was a good knight, that a feud drove from this land. The boatman will come when he heareth that name.”

Proud Hagen thanked the women for their warning and their counsel, and said no more. He went up the river’s bank, till he came to an inn that stood on the far side. He began to shout across the water, “Boatman, row me over, and I will give thee, for thy meed, an armlet of red gold. I must across.”

The boatman was so rich that he needed not to serve for hire, and seldom took reward from any. His men also were overweening, and Hagen was left standing on the bank of the river.

Thereupon he shouted so loud that all the shore rang with it. He was a stark man. “Row across for Amelrich. I am Elsy’s liegeman, that, for a feud, fled the country.” He swung the armlet aloft on his sword—it was of red gold, bright and shining—that they might ferry him over to Gelfrat’s march. At this the haughty boatman himself took the oar, for he was greedy and covetous of gain, the which bringeth oft to a bad end. He thought to win Hagen’s red gold, but won, in lieu thereof, a grim death by his sword.

He rowed over to the shore with mighty strokes. When he found not him that had been named, he fell into a fury; he saw Hagen, and spake wrothfully to the hero, “Thy name may be Amelrich, but, or I err greatly, thy face is none of his. By one father and one mother he was my brother. Since thou hast deceived me, thou canst stay where thou art.”

“Nay, for the love of God,” said Hagen. “I am a stranger knight that have the charge of other warriors. Take thy fee and row me over, for I am a friend.”

But the boatman answered, “I will not. My dear masters have foemen, wherefore I must bring no stranger across. If thou lovest thy life, step out on to the shore again.”

“Nay now,” said Hagen, “I am sore bested. Take, as a keepsake, this goodly gold, and ferry us over with our thousand horses and our many men.”

But the grim boatman answered, “Never!” He seized an oar, mickle and broad, and smote Hagen (soon he rued it), that he staggered and fell on his knees. Seldom had he of Trony encountered so grim a ferryman. Further, to anger the bold stranger, he brake a boat-pole over his head, for he was a strong man. But he did it to his own hurt.

Grimly wroth, Hagen drew a weapon from the sheath, and cut off his head, and threw it on the ground. The Burgundians were soon ware of the tidings.

In the same moment that he slew the ferryman, the boat was caught by the current, which irked him no little, for he was weary or he could bring her head round, albeit Gunther’s man rowed stoutly. With swift strokes he sought to turn it, till the oar brake in his hand. He strove to reach the knights on the strand, but had no other oar. Ha! how nimbly he bound it together with the thong of his shield, a narrow broidered band, and rowed to a wood down the river.

There he found his masters waiting on the beach. Many a valiant knight ran to meet him, and greeted him joyfully. But when they saw the boat full of blood from the grim wound he had given the ferryman, they began to question him.

When Gunther saw the hot blood heaving in the boat, he said quickly, “Tell me what thou hast done with the ferryman. I ween he hath fallen by thy strength.”

But he answered with a lie, “I found the boat by a waste meadow, and loosed it. I have seen no ferryman this day, nor hath any suffered hurt at my hand.”

Then said Sir Gernot of Burgundy, “I am heavy of my cheer because of the dear friends that must die or night, for boatmen we have none. Sorrowfully I stand, nor know how we shall win over.”

But Hagen cried, “Lay down your burdens on the grass, ye squires. I was the best boatman by the Rhine, and safe, I trow, I shall bring you into Gelfrat’s land.”

That they might cross the quicker, they drave in the horses. These swam so well that none were drowned, albeit a few, grown weary, were borne down some length by the tide. Then they carried their gold and harness on board, since they must needs make the passage. Hagen was the helmsman, and steered many a gallant knight to the unknown land. First he took over a thousand, and thereto his own band of warriors. Then followed more: nine thousand squires. The knight of Trony was not idle that day. The ship was huge, strongly built and wide enow. Five hundred of their folk and more, with their meats and weapons, it carried easily at a time. Many a good warrior that day pulled sturdily at the oar.

When he had brought them safe across the water, the bold knight and good thought on the strange prophecy of the wild mermaids. Through this the king’s chaplain came nigh to lose his life. He found the priest beside the sacred vessels, leaning with his hand upon the holy relics. This helped him not. When Hagen saw him, it went hard with the poor servant of God. He threw him out of the ship on the instant. Many cried, “Stop, Hagen, stop!” Giselher, the youth, was very wroth, but Hagen ceased not, till he had done him a hurt.

Then stark Gernot of Burgundy said, “What profiteth thee the chaplain’s death, Hagen? Had another done this, he had paid dear for it. What hast thou against the priest?”

The chaplain swam with all his might. He had gotten on board again had any helped him. But none could do it, for stark Hagen pushed him fiercely under. None approved his deed.

When the poor man saw that they would not aid him, he turned and made for the shore. He was in sore peril. But, albeit he could not swim, the hand of God upbore him, that he won safe to the dry land again. There he stood, and shook his clothes.

By this sign Hagen knew there was no escape from what the wild women of the sea had foretold. He thought, “These knights be all dead men.”

When they had unloaded the ship, and brought all across that belonged to the three kings, Hagen brake it in pieces and threw these on the water. Much the bold knights marvelled thereat.

“Wherefore dost thou so, brother?” said Dankwart. “How shall we get over when we ride home from the Huns to the Rhine?”

Hagen told him, after, that that would never be, but for the meantime he said, “I did it a-purpose. If we have any coward with us on this journey, that would forsake us in our need, he shall die a shameful death in these waves.”

They had with them one from Burgundy, a hero of great prowess, that hight Folker, and that spake with mocking words all his mind. And whatso Hagen did, this fiddler approved.

When the king’s chaplain saw the ship hewn up, he cried across the water to Hagen, “What had I done to thee, false murderer, that, without cause, thou wouldst have drowned me?”

Hagen answered, “Hold thy peace. By my troth, and in sober earnest, it irketh me that thou hast escaped.”

Said the poor priest, “I will praise God evermore. Little I fear thee now, rest assured. Fare forward to the Huns, and I will to the Rhine. God grant thou comest never back again. That is my prayer, for well-nigh hadst thou killed me.”

But King Gunther said to his chaplain, “I will more than make good to thee what Hagen hath done in his anger, if I win back alive. Have no fear. Go home, for so it needs must be now. Bear a greeting to my dear wife, and my other kinsfolk. Tell them the good tidings: that, so far, all is well.”

The horses stood ready, the sumpters were laden. As yet they had suffered no scathe by the way, save the king’s chaplain, that had to return to the Rhine afoot.

Twenty-Sixth Adventure How Dankwart Slew Gelfrat

When they were all on the shore, the king asked, “Who will show us the right way through the country, that we go not astray?”

Whereto bold Folker answered, “I will do it.”

“Stop!” said Hagen, “both knights and squires. One must follow one’s friends—that is plain to me, and right. But I have heavy news to tell you. Never again shall we see Burgundy. Two mermaids told me this morning early that we should win back to our home nevermore. Now follow my counsel. Arm ye, ye heroes, and guard your lives well. Stark foemen are at hand, wherefore ride as to battle. I hoped to prove the words of the wise mermaids false. They said that none save the chaplain would return. It was for that I had so gladly drowned him.”

The news flew from rank to rank. Many a bold knight grew pale, and fell in fear of bitter death, whereto he journeyed. Doleful were they and dreary.

They crossed the river at Moering, where Elsy’s ferryman was killed, and Hagen said further, “I have made enemies by the way, that will shortly set on us. I slew the boatman this morning; wherefore, if Gelfrat and Elsy attack us, welcome them on such wise that it shall go hard with them. They will do it without fail, for I know them for bold men. Ride softly, that none may say we fly.”

“So be it,” said young Giselher. “Who will lead us through the land?”

And they answered, “Folker, the bold minstrel; he knoweth all the hills and the paths.”

Or they had time to ask him, the brave fiddler stood before them, armed, with his helmet on. His harness was bright coloured, and he had bound a red pennon on his spear. Soon he came, with the kings, in great peril.

The news of his boatman’s death had reached Gelfrat. Stark Elsy had heard it likewise. Wroth were they both. They summoned their knights, that were soon ready. Straightway, as I will tell you, a mighty host, strongly armed, rode to them that had suffered scathe. To Gelfrat come more than seven hundred. When these set out to pursue their grim foemen, the leaders spurred hotly after the strangers, to be revenged. By the which they lost many friends.

Hagen of Trony had so ordered it (how could a hero guard his kinsmen better) that he brought up the rear with his vassals, and with Dankwart, his brother. It was wisely done.

The day was far spent; the light failed. He feared greatly for his comrades. They rode through Bavaria behind shields, and shortly after were set upon.

On both sides, and close behind, they heard the trample of hoofs, and spurred on. Then said bold Dankwart, “They will fall on us here. Ye did well to bind on your helmets.”

So they stopped, as needs was. Then they saw the glitter of shields in the dark. Hagen held his peace no longer, “Who follow us by the way?”

Gelfrat had to answer. Said the Margrave of Bavaria, “We seek our foemen and follow on their track. I know not who slew my boatman to-day. He was a valiant knight, and I grieve for his loss.”

Then said Hagen of Trony, “Was the boatman thine? He would not ferry me over. The blame is mine. I slew him. Certes, I had need. I had nigh met my death at his hand. I offered him gold and raiment, Sir Knight, as his meed for rowing us into thy land. So angry was he that he struck me with his great oar, whereat I was grim enow. Then I seized my sword, and defended me from his wrath with a grisly wound, whereby the hero perished. I will answer for it as seemeth good to thee.”

So they fell to fighting, for they were wroth. “I knew well,” said Gelfrat, “when Gunther crossed with his followers, that Hagen’s insolence would do us some hurt. Now he shall not escape us. His death shall pay for the boatman’s.” Gelfrat and Hagen couched their lances to thrust above their shields. Deadly was their hate. Elsy and Dankwart met gallantly, and proven on each other was their might. They strove grimly. How could heroes have fought better? Bold Hagen was knocked back from off his horse by a strong blow from Gelfrat’s hand. The poitral brake asunder and he fell.

From the followers also rang the clash of spears. Hagen sprang up again where he had fallen on the grass from the blow; not little was his wrath against Gelfrat. I know not who held their horses. Hagen and Gelfrat were both on the ground. They ran at each other, and their attendants helped them and fought by them. For all Hagen’s fierce onset, the noble Margrave hewed an ell’s length from his shield, that the sparks flew bright. Gunther’s man was well-nigh slain. Then he cried aloud to Dankwart, “Help! dear brother. I perish by the hand of a hero.”

Bold Dankwart answered, “I will decide between you.” The knight spurred toward them, and smote Gelfrat such a blow that he fell dead.

Elsy would have avenged him, but he and his followers were overcome. His brother was slain, and he himself wounded. Full eighty of his warriors he left there with grim death; the prince had to flee before Gunther’s men.

When the Bavarians gave way, there was heard the echo of grisly strokes. The men of Trony chased their foes, and they that stayed not to answer for it had little ease by the way.

But while they pursued them, Dankwart said, “Now turn we, and let them ride. They are wet with blood. Let us join our friends. Truly it were best.”

When they came again where the fight had been, Hagen of Trony said, “Let us see now, ye heroes, who are amissing, and whom we have lost through Gelfrat’s anger.”

They had four to mourn for, that they had lost. Well they were avenged. Against these, more than an hundred of them of Bavaria lay slain. The shields of the men of Trony were dim and wet with blood.

The bright moon shone faintly through the clouds, and Hagen said, “Let none tell my dear masters what hath befallen us. Let them be free of trouble till the morrow.”

When they that had fought came up with the rest, they found them overcome with weariness. “How long shall we ride?” asked many among them. Bold Dankwart answered, “Here is no hostel. Ye must ride till it is day.” Folker, that had the charge, bade ask the marshal, “Where shall we halt for the night, that the horses and my dear masters may rest?” But Dankwart said, “I know not. We cannot rest till the dawn. Then we shall lie down on the grass wherever we find a place.” When they heard this news they were sorry enow!

Of the red blood that reeked on them nothing was said till the sun greeted the morning on the mountains with his bright beams, and the king saw that they had fought.

The knight cried angrily, “How now, friend Hagen? Wherefore didst thou scorn my help when they were wetting thy harness with blood? Who hath done it?”

Hagen answered, “It was Elsy. He fell on us by night. Because of his ferryman, he attacked us. My brother’s hand slew Gelfrat. Elsy was forced to flee. An hundred of his men, and four of ours, lie dead, slain in battle.”

I cannot tell you where they rested. Soon all the country folk heard that noble Uta’s sons were on their way to the hightide. They were well received at Passau. Bishop Pilgerin, the king’s uncle, was well pleased that his nephews drew nigh with so many knights. He was not slow to give them welcome. Friends rode out to meet them on the way. When there was not room enough for all in Passau, they crossed the river to a field, and there the squires put up tents and rich pavilions.

They had to tarry there a whole day and a night. Well they were entreated! Then they rode into Rudeger’s country. When Rudeger heard the news, he was glad.

When the way-weary ones had rested, and drew nigher to Rudeger’s country, they found a man asleep on the marches, from whom Hagen of Trony took a stark weapon. This same good knight hight Eckewart. Right heavy was he of his cheer that he had lost his sword through the passing of the heroes. They found Rudeger’s marches ill guarded.

“Woe is me for this shame!” cried Eckewart. “Sore I rue the Burgundians’ journey. The day I lost Siegfried my joy was ended. Alack! Sir Rudeger, an ill turn I have done thee.”

Hagen overheard all the warrior’s grief, and gave him his sword again, with six red armlets. “Take them, Sir Knight, for love of me, and be my friend. Thou art a brave man to lie here all alone.”

“God quit thee for thine armlets,” answered Eckewart. “Yet still I must rue thy journey to the Huns. Thou slewest Siegfried, and art hated here. Look well to thyself; from true heart I warn thee.”

“God must guard us,” said Hagen. “No other care have these knights, the princes and their liegemen, than to find quarters, where they may tarry the night. Our horses are weary from the long way, and our provender is done. We can find none to buy. We have need of a host that, of his charity, would give us bread.”

Eckewart answered, “I will show you such an host. Better welcome to his house will none give you in any land than Rudeger, if ye will go to see him. He dwelleth fast by the road, and is the best host that ever had a house. His heart blossometh with virtues, as smiling May decketh the grass with flowers. He is ever glad to serve knights.”

Then said King Gunther, “Wilt thou be my envoy, and ask my dear friend Rudeger if he will keep us—me with my kinsmen and our men—till the day? I will requite him as best I can.”

“I will gladly be thy envoy,” answered Eckewart.

He set out with good will, and told Rudeger what he had heard. Such good news had not reached him for long. A knight was seen hasting to Bechlaren. Rudeger knew him, and said, “Here cometh Eckewart, Kriemhild’s man, down the way.” He deemed that foemen had done him a hurt. He went to the door and met the envoy, that ungirded his sword and laid it down.

Rudeger said to the knight, “What hast thou heard, that thou ridest in such hot haste? Hath any done us a mischief?”

“None hath harmed us,” said Eckewart straightway. “Three kings have sent me: Gunther of Burgundy, Giselher, and Gernot. Each of them commended his service to thee. The same doth Hagen from true heart, and also Folker. Further, I have to tell thee that Dankwart, the king’s marshal, bade me say that the good knights have need of thy roof.”

Rudeger answered with smiling face, “This is glad news, that the high kings need my service. It shall not be denied them. Right glad am I that they come to my house.”

“Dankwart, the marshal, bade me tell thee who there be of them: sixty bold warriors and a thousand good knights, with nine thousand squires.”

Rudeger rejoiced to hear it, and said, “Welcome are these guests—the high warriors that come to my castle, and that I so seldom have served heretofore. Ride out to meet them, my kinsmen and my vassals.”

Whereat knights and squires hasted to horse. All that their lord commanded they deemed right; so they served him the better.

Gotelind, that sat in her chamber, had not heard the news.

Twenty-Seventh Adventure How They Came to Bechlaren

The Margrave went to find his wife and daughter, and told them the good news that he had heard, how that their queen’s brethren were coming to the house.

“Dear love,” said Rudeger, “receive the high and noble kings well when they come here with their followers. Hagen, Gunther’s man, thou shalt also greet fair. There is one with them that hight Dankwart; another hight Folker, a man of much worship. These six thou shalt kiss—thou and my daughter. Entreat the warriors courteously.”

The women promised it, nothing loth. They took goodly apparel from their chests, wherein to meet the knights. The fair women made haste enow. Their cheeks needed little false colour. They wore fillets of bright gold on their heads, fashioned like rich wreaths, that the wind might not ruffle their beautiful hair. They were dainty and fresh.

Now leave we the women busied on this wise. There was mickle spurring across the plain among Rudeger’s friends till they found the princes. These were well received in the Margrave’s land. Rudeger cried joyfully as he went toward them, “Ye be welcome, ye knights, and all your men. Right glad am I to see you in my home.”

The warriors thanked him with true heart void of hate. He showed them plainly they were welcome. To Hagen he gave special greeting, for he knew him from aforetime. He did the same to Folker of Burgundy. He welcomed Dankwart also. Then said that knight, “If thou take us in, who will see to our followers from Worms beyond the Rhine?”

The Margrave answered, “Have no fear on that head. All that ye have with you, horses, silver and apparel, shall be so well guarded that ye shall not lose a single spur thereof. Pitch your tents in the fields, ye squires. Whatso ye lose here I will make good to you. Off with the bridles, and let the horses go loose.” Never before had host done this for them. Glad enow were the guests. When they had obeyed him, and the knights had ridden away, the squires laid them down on the grass over all, and took their ease. It was their softest rest on the whole journey.

The noble Margravine came out before the castle with her beautiful daughter. Lovely women and fair maids not a few stood beside her, adorned with bracelets and fine apparel. Precious stones sparked bright on their rich vesture. Goodly was their raiment.

The guests rode up and sprang to the ground. Ha! courteous men all were they of Burgundy! Six and thirty maidens and many women beside, fair to heart’s desire, came forth to meet them, with bold men in plenty. The noble women welcomed them sweetly. The Margravine kissed the kings all three. Her daughter did the like. Hagen stood by. Him also her father bade her kiss. She looked up at him, and he was so grim that she had gladly let it be. Yet must she do as the host bade her. Her colour came and went, white and red. She kissed Dankwart, too, and, after him, the fiddler. By reason of his body’s strength he won this greeting. Then the young Margravine took Giselher, the youth, of Burgundy by the hand. Her mother did the same to Gunther, and they went in merrily with the heroes.

The host led Gernot into a wide hall. There knights and ladies sat down, and good wine was poured out for the guests. Never were warriors better entreated.

Rudeger’s daughter was looked at with loving eyes, she was so fair; and many a good knight loved her in his heart. And well they might, for she was an high-hearted maiden. But their thoughts were vain: it could not be.

They kept spying at the women, whereof many sat round. Now the fiddler was well-minded to Rudeger.

Women and knights were parted then, as was the custom, and went into separate rooms. The table was made ready in the great hall, and willing service was done to the strangers.

To show love to the guests, the Margravine went to table with them. She left her daughter with the damsels, as was seemly, albeit it irked the guests to see her no longer.

When they had all drunk and eaten, they brought the fair ones into the hall again, and there was no lack of sweet words. Folker, a knight bold and good, spake plenty of them. This same fiddler said openly, “Great Margrave, God hath done well by thee, for He hath given thee a right beautiful wife, and happy days. Were I a king,” said the minstrel, “and wore a crown, I would choose thy sweet daughter for my queen. She would be the choice of my heart, for she is fair to look upon, and, thereto, noble and good.”

The Margrave answered, “How should a king covet my dear daughter? My wife and I are both strangers here, and have naught to give. What availeth then her beauty?”

But said Gernot, the courteous man, “Might I choose where I would, such a wife were my heart’s desire.”

Then said Hagen graciously, “It is time Giselher wedded. Of such high lineage is the noble Margravine, that we would gladly serve her, I and his men, if she wore the crown in Burgundy.”

The word pleased both Rudeger and Gotelind greatly. Their hearts were uplifted. So it was agreed among the heroes that noble Giselher should take her to wife; the which a king might well do without shame.

If a thing be right, who can withstand it? They bade the maiden before them, and they swore to give her to him, whereupon he vowed to cherish her. They gave her castles and lands for her share. The king and Gernot sware with the hand that it should be even as they had promised.

Then said the Margrave, “Since I have no castles, I can only prove me your true friend evermore. I will give my daughter as much silver and gold as an hundred sumpters may carry, that ye warriors may, with honour, be content.”

Then the twain were put in a circle, as the custom was. Many a young knight stood opposite in merry mood, and thought in his heart as young folk will. They asked the lovely maiden if she would have the hero. She was half sorry, yet her heart inclined to the goodly man. She was shamefast at the question, as many a maid hath been.

Rudeger her father counselled her to say “yes,” and to take him gladly. Giselher, the youth, was not slow to clasp her to him with his white hands. Yet how little while she had him!

Then said the Margrave, “Great and noble kings, I will give you my child to take with you, for this were fittest, when ye ride home again into your land.” And it was so agreed.

The din of tourney was bidden cease. The damsels were sent to their chambers, and the guests to sleep and to take their rest till the day. Then meats were made ready, for their host saw well to their comfort.

When they had eaten, they would have set out again for the country of the Huns, but Rudeger said, “Go not, I pray you. Tarry here yet a while, for I had never dearer guests.”

Dankwart answered, “It may not be. Where couldst thou find the meat, the bread and the wine, for so many knights?”

But when the host heard him, he said, “Speak not of that. Deny me not, my dear lords. I can give you, and all them that are with you, meat for fourteen days. Little hath King Etzel ever taken of my substance.”

Albeit they made excuse, they had to tarry till the fourth morning. He gave both horses and apparel so freely, that the fame of it spread abroad.

But longer than this it could not last, for they must needs forth. Rudeger was not sparing of his goods. If any craved for aught, none denied him. Each got his desire.

The attendants brought the saddled horses to the door. There many stranger knights joined them, shield in hand, to ride with them to Etzel’s court. To each of the noble guests Rudeger offered a gift, or he left the hall. He had wherewithal to live in honour and give freely. Upon Giselher he had bestowed his fair daughter. He gave to Gernot a goodly weapon enow, that he wielded well afterward in strife. The Margrave’s wife grudged him not the gift, yet Rudeger, or long, was slain thereby.

To Gunther, the valiant knight, he gave a coat of mail, that did the rich king honour, albeit he seldom took gifts. He bowed before Rudeger and thanked him.

Gotelind offered Hagen a fair gift, as was fitting, since the king had taken one, that he might not fare to the hightide without a keepsake from her, but he refused.

“Naught that I ever saw would I so fain bear away with me as yonder shield on the wall. I would gladly carry it into Etzel’s land.”

When the Margravine heard Hagen’s word, it minded her on her sorrow, and she fell to weeping. She thought sadly on the death of Nudung, that Wittich had slain; and her heart was heavy.

She said to the knight, “I will give thee the shield. Would to God he yet lived that once bore it! He died in battle. I must ever weep when I think on him, for my woman’s heart is sore.”

The noble Margravine rose from her seat, and took down the shield with her white hands and carried it to Hagen, that used it as a hero should. A covering of bright stuff lay over its device. The light never shone on better shield. It was so rich with precious stones, that had any wanted to buy it, it had cost him at the least a thousand marks.

The knight bade his attendants bear it away. Then came his brother Dankwart, to whom the Margrave’s daughter gave richly broidered apparel, that afterward he wore merrily among the Huns.

None had touched any of these things but for love of the host that offered them so kindly. Yet, or long, they bare him such hate that they slew him.

Bold Folker then stepped forth with knightly bearing and stood before Gotelind with his viol. He played a sweet tune and sang her his song. Then he took his leave and left Bechlaren. But first the Margravine bade them bring a drawer near. Of loving gifts now hear the tale. She took therefrom twelve armlets, and drew them over his hand, saying, “These shalt thou take with thee and wear for my sake at Etzel’s court. When thou comest again, I will hear how thou hast served me at the hightide.” Well he did her behest.

The host said to the guests, “That ye may journey the safer, I will myself escort you, and see that none fall on you by the way.” And forthwith they loaded his sumpter. He stood ready for the road with five hundred men, mounted and equipped. These he led merrily to the hightide. Not one of them came back alive to Bechlaren.

He took leave with sweet kisses. The same did Giselher, as love bade him. They took the fair women in their arms. Or long, many a damsel wept for them.

The windows were flung wide over all, for the host and his men were gotten to horse. Their hearts, I ween, foreboded their bitter woe, and many a wife and many a maiden wept sore. They sorrowed for many a dear friend that was never seen more at Bechlaren. Yet merrily they rode down the valley by the Danube into the land of the Huns.

Then said noble Rudeger to the Burgundians, “We must delay no longer to send news of our advance. Nothing could rejoice King Etzel more.”

The swift envoys pressed down through Austria, and soon the folk knew, far and near, that the heroes were on their way from Worms beyond the Rhine. It was welcome news to the king’s vassals. The envoys spurred forward with the tidings that the Nibelungs were come to the Huns.

“Receive them well, Kriemhild, my wife. Thy brethren are come to show thee great honour.”

Kriemhild stood at a window and looked out as a friend might for friends. Many drew thither from her father’s land. The king was joyful when he heard the news.

“Glad am I,” said Kriemhild, “my kinsmen come with many new shields and shining bucklers. I will ever be his friend that taketh my gold and remembereth my wrong.”

She thought in her heart, “Now for the reckoning! If I can contrive it, it will go hard at this hightide with him that killed all my happiness. Fain would I work his doom. I care not what may come of it: my vengeance shall fall on the hateful body of him that stole my joy from me. He shall pay dear for my sorrow.”

Twenty-Eighth Adventure How Kriemhild Received Hagen

When the Burgundians came into the land, old Hildebrand of Bern heard thereof, and told his master, that was grieved at the news. He bade him give hearty welcome to the valiant knights.

Bold Wolfhart called for the horses, and many stark warriors rode with Dietrich to greet them on the plain, where they had pitched their goodly tents.

When Hagen of Trony saw them from afar, he spake courteously to his masters, “Arise, ye doughty heroes, and go to meet them that come to welcome you. A company of warriors that I know well draw hither—the heroes of the Amelung land. They are men of high courage. Scorn not their service.”

Then, as was seemly, Dietrich, with many knights and squires, sprang to the ground. They hasted to the guests, and welcomed the heroes of Burgundy lovingly.

When Dietrich saw them, he was both glad and sorry; he knew what was toward, and grieved that they were come. He deemed that Rudeger was privy to it, and had told them. “Ye be welcome, Gunther and Giselher, Gernot and Hagen; Folker, likewise, and Dankwart the swift. Know ye not that Kriemhild still mourneth bitterly for the hero of the Nibelungs?”

“She will weep awhile,” answered Hagen. “This many a year he lieth slain. She did well to comfort her with the king of the Huns. Siegfried will not come again. He is long buried.”

“Enough of Siegfried’s wounds. While Kriemhild, my mistress, liveth, mischief may well betide. Wherefore, hope of the Nibelungs, beware!” So spake Dietrich of Bern.

“Wherefore should I beware?” said the king. “Etzel sent us envoys (what more could I ask?) bidding us hither to this land. My sister Kriemhild, also, sent us many greetings.”

But Hagen said, “Bid Sir Dietrich and his good knights tell us further of this matter, that they may show us the mind of Kriemhild.”

Then the three kings went apart: Gunther and Gernot and Dietrich.

“Now tell us, noble knight of Bern, what thou knowest of the queen’s mind.”

The prince of Bern answered, “What can I tell you, save that every morning I have heard Etzel’s wife weeping and wailing in bitter woe to the great God of Heaven, because of stark Siegfried’s death?”

Said bold Folker, the fiddler, “There is no help for it. Let us ride to the court and see what befalleth us among the Huns.”

The bold Burgundians rode to the court right proudly, after the custom of their land. Many bold Huns marvelled much what manner of man Hagen of Trony might be. The folk knew well, from hearsay, that he had slain Siegfried of the Netherland, the starkest of all knights, Kriemhild’s husband. Wherefore many questions were asked concerning him. The hero was of great stature; that is certain. His shoulders were broad, his hair was grisled; his legs were long, and terrible was his face. He walked with a proud gait.

Then lodging was made ready for the Burgundians. Gunther’s attendants lay separate from the others. The queen, that greatly hated Gunther, had so ordered it. By this device his yeomen were slain soon after.

Dankwart, Hagen’s brother, was marshal. The king commended his men earnestly to his care, that he might give them meat and drink enow, the which the bold knight did faithfully and with good will.

Kriemhild went forth with her attendants and welcomed the Nibelungs with false heart. She kissed Giselher and took him by the hand. When Hagen of Trony saw that, he bound his helmet on tighter.

“After such greeting,” he said, “good knights may well take thought. The kings and their men are not all alike welcome. No good cometh of our journey to this hightide.”

She answered, “Let him that is glad to see thee welcome thee. I will not greet thee as a friend. What bringest thou for me from Worms, beyond the Rhine, that thou shouldst be so greatly welcome?”

“This is news,” said Hagen, “that knights should bring thee gifts. Had I thought of it, I had easily brought thee something. I am rich enow.”

“Tell me what thou hast done with the Nibelung hoard. That, at the least, was mine own. Ye should have brought it with you into Etzel’s land.”

“By my troth, lady, I have not touched the Nibelung hoard this many a year. My masters bade me sink it in the Rhine. There it must bide till the day of doom.”

Then said the queen, “I thought so. Little hast thou brought thereof, albeit it was mine own, and held by me aforetime. Many a sad day I have lived for lack of it and its lord.”

“I bring thee the Devil!” cried Hagen. “My shield and my harness were enow to carry, and my bright helmet, and the sword in my hand. I have brought thee naught further.”

“I speak not of my treasure, because I desire the gold. I have so much to give that I need not thy offerings. A murder and a double theft—it is these that I, unhappiest of women, would have thee make good to me.”

Then said the queen to all the knights, “None shall bear weapons in this hall. Deliver them to me, ye knights, that they be taken in charge.”

“Not so, by my troth,” said Hagen; “I crave not the honour, great daughter of kings, to have thee bear my shield and other weapons to safe keeping. Thou art a queen here. My father taught me to guard them myself.”

“Woe is me!” cried Kriemhild. “Why will not Hagen and my brother give up their shields? They are warned. If I knew him that did it, he should die.”

Sir Dietrich answered wrathfully then, “I am he that warned the noble kings, and bold Hagen, the man of Burgundy. Do thy worst, thou devil’s wife, I care not!”

Kriemhild was greatly ashamed, for she stood in bitter fear of Dietrich. She went from him without a word, but with swift and wrathful glances at her foes.

Then two knights clasped hands—the one was Dietrich, the other Hagen. Dietrich, the valiant warrior, said courteously, “I grieve to see thee here, since the queen hath spoken thus.”

Hagen of Trony answered, “It will all come right.”

So the bold men spake together, and King Etzel saw them, and asked, “I would know who yonder knight is that Dietrich welcometh so lovingly. He beareth him proudly. Howso is his father hight, he is, certes, a goodly warrior.”

One of Kriemhild’s men answered the king, “He was born at Trony. The name of his father was Aldrian. Albeit now he goeth gently, he is a grim man. I will prove to thee yet that I lie not.”

“How shall I find him so grim?” He knew nothing, as yet, of all that the queen contrived against her kinsmen: by reason whereof not one of them escaped alive from the Huns.

“I know Hagen well. He was my vassal. Praise and mickle honour he won here by me. I made him a knight, and gave him my gold. For that he proved him faithful, I was ever kind to him. Wherefore I may well know all about him. I brought two noble children captive to this land—him and Walter of Spain. Here they grew to manhood. Hagen I sent home again. Walter fled with Hildegund.”

So he mused on the good old days, and what had happed long ago, for he had seen Hagen, that did him stark service in his youth. Yet now that he was old, he lost by him many a dear friend.

Twenty-Ninth Adventure How Hagen and Folker Sat Before Kriemhild’s Hall

The two valiant knights, Hagen of Trony and Sir Dietrich, parted, and Gunther’s man looked back for a comrade that he soon espied. He saw Folker, the cunning fiddler, by Giselher, and bade him come with him, for well he knew his grim mood. He was in all things a warrior bold and good.

The knights still stood in the court. These two alone were seen crossing the yard to a large hall at a distance. They feared no man. They sat down before the house, on a bench opposite Kriemhild’s chamber. Their goodly apparel shone bright on their bodies. Not a few of them that looked were fain to know them. The Huns gaped at the proud heroes as they had been wild beasts, and Etzel’s wife saw them through a window, and was troubled anew. She thought on her old wrong, and began to weep. Etzel’s men marvelled much what had grieved her so sore. She said, “Good knights, it is Hagen that hath done it.”

Then said they to the queen, “How came it to pass? A moment ago we saw thee of good cheer. There is no man so bold, had he done thee a hurt, and thou badest us avenge thee, but he should answer for it with his life.”

“Him that avenged my wrong I would thank evermore. All that he asked I would give him. I fall at your feet; only avenge me on Hagen, that he lose his life.”

Thereupon sixty bold men armed them swiftly, and would have gone out with one accord to slay Hagen, the bold knight, and the fiddler, for Kriemhild’s sake.

But when the queen saw so small a number, she spake wrothfully to the heroes, “Think not to withstand Hagen with so few. Stark and bold as is Hagen of Trony, much starker is he that sitteth by him, Folker the fiddler by name, a wicked man. Ye shall not so lightly overcome them.”

When they heard her word, four hundred knights more did on their armour, for the queen was eager to do her enemies a hurt. Soon they came in sore straits. When she saw them well armed, she said to them, “Stand still a while and wait. I will go out to my foes with my crown on. Hearken while I upbraid Hagen of Trony, Gunther’s man, with what he hath done to me. I know him for too proud a knight to deny it. After that, I care not what befalleth him.”

Then the fiddler, a bold minstrel, saw the queen coming down the stair from the house, and said to his comrade, “Now see, friend Hagen, how she that hath falsely bidden us to this land, cometh toward us. Never have I beheld, with a king’s wife, so many men, sword in hand, as for strife. Knowest thou, friend Hagen, that they hate thee? I counsel thee to look to thy life and thine honour. Certes, it were well. Methinketh they be wrothful of their mood. Many among them have shoulders broad enow. Who would save his life had best do it betimes. I ween they wear harness below their silk, whereof I hear none declare the meaning.”

But Hagen, the bold man, answered angrily, “Well, I know that it is against me they carry their bright weapons in their hands. But, for all that, I will yet ride back to Burgundy. Now say, friend Folker, wilt thou stand by me, if Kriemhild’s men fall on me? Tell me, as thou lovest me. To thy service thou wouldst bind me evermore.”

“I will help thee truly,” answered the minstrel; “if I saw the king coming with all his warriors, I would not, while I lived, stir a foot from thy side through fear.”

“God in Heaven quit thee, noble Folker! If they fight with me, what need I more. Since thou wilt help me, as I have heard thee promise, these knights had best walk warily.”

“Now rise we from our seat, and let her pass,” said the minstrel. “She is a queen. Do her this honour; she is a high-born lady. Therein we honour ourselves.”

“Nay, as thou lovest me!” Hagen said. “These knights might deem I did it through fear, and thought to fly. I will not rise from my seat for any of them. It beseemeth us better to sit still. Shall I show honour to her that hateth me? That I will never do, so long as I be a living man. Certes, I care little if King Etzel’s wife misliketh me.”

Hagen, the overweening man, laid a bright weapon across his knee, from the hilt whereof shone a flaming jasper, greener than grass. Well Kriemhild knew that it was Siegfried’s.

When she saw the sword, her heart was heavy. The hilt was of gold, the scabbard of red broidered silk. It minded her on her woe, and she began to weep. Bold Hagen, I ween, had done it apurpose.

Brave Folker drew closer to him on the bench a stark fiddle-bow, mickle and long, made like a sword, sharp and broad. There sat the good knights unafraid. They deemed them too high to rise from their seat through fear of any.

Then the noble queen advanced to them and gave them angry greeting. She said, “Now tell me, Sir Hagen, who sent for thee, that thou hast dared to ride into this land? Wert thou in thy senses, thou hadst not done it.”

“None sent for me,” answered Hagen. “Three knights that I call master, were bidden hither. I am their liegeman, and never yet tarried behind when they rode to a hightide.”

She said, “Now tell me further. Wherefore didst thou that which hath earned thee my hate? Thou slewest Siegfried, my dear husband, that I cannot mourn enow to my life’s end.”

He answered, “Enough! What thou hast said sufficeth. It was I, Hagen, that slew Siegfried, the hero. He paid dear for the evil words that Kriemhild spake to fair Brunhild. I deny not, mighty queen, that I am guilty, and the cause of all the mischief. Avenge it who will, man or woman. I will not lie; I have wrought thee much woe.”

She said, “Ye hear him, knights! He denieth not the wrong he hath done me. I care not how he suffer for it, ye men of Etzel.”

The proud warriors glanced at each other. Had there been fighting, the two comrades had come off with honour, as oft aforetime in strife. What the Huns had undertaken they durst not perform, through fear. Then said one among them, “Why look ye at me? My word was vain; I will lose my life for the gifts of no woman. King Etzel’s wife, methinketh, would undo us.”

Another said, “I am of thy mind. I would not challenge this fiddler for towers full of red gold, for much I mislike his fierce glances. This Hagen, too, I knew in his youth, and need not to be told concerning him. In two-and-twenty battles I have seen him. He hath given many a woman heart’s dole. He and the knight of Spain rode on many a foray, and here, by Etzel, won many victories to the honour of the king. Wherefore none may deny him praise. In those days the knight was a child, and they that now are grey were youths. Now he is grown to a grim man. Thereto, he weareth Balmung, which he won evilly.”

So they agreed that none should fight, whereat the queen grieved bitterly. The knights turned away, for they feared death from the fiddler, and were dismayed. How oft will cowards fall back when friend standeth true by friend! And he that bethinketh him betimes is delivered from many a snare.

Then said bold Folker, “Now have we seen and heard that foemen are around us. Haste we to the court, to the kings, that none dare fall upon them.”

“I will follow,” said Hagen.

They went where they found the knights still waiting in the courtyard; and bold Folker began to say to his masters with a loud voice, “How long will ye stand here to be jostled? Go in and hear from the king how he is minded toward you.”

The knights bold and good went in pairs. The prince of Bern took great Gunther of Burgundy by the hand. Irnfried took brave Gernot, and Giselher went in with his father-in-law. Howso the others walked, Folker and Hagen parted nevermore, save once in battle, till their death; the which gave many a noble woman cause to weep. With the kings came their followers, a thousand bold men, and, thereto, sixty warriors, brought by Hagen from his land. Hawart and Iring, two chosen knights, went after the kings, hand in hand. Dankwart and Wolfhart, a true-hearted man, bare them courteously toward them that were present.

When the prince of Rhineland came into the palace, Etzel waited no longer, but sprang up from his seat when he saw them. Never was fairer greeting between kings. “Ye be welcome, Sir Gunther and Sir Gernot, and Giselher your brother. With true heart I sent my service to you at Worms. Your knights, too, are welcome, each one. Glad are my wife and I to greet bold Folker, and also Hagen, in this land. Many a message she sent you to the Rhine.”

Then said Hagen of Trony, “I heard them all. Had I not ridden hither for my masters’ sake, I had come to do thee honour.” Thereupon the host took his dear guests by the hand, and led them to the high seat where he himself sat. And they hasted and poured out mead, morat, and wine, for the guests, in great golden goblets, and bade the strangers heartily welcome.

Then said King Etzel, “I tell you truly that nothing in this world had pleased me better than to see you knights here. It will ease the queen of mickle heart’s dole. I marvelled oft what I had done, that, among the many guests I won to my court, ye never came to my land. Glad am I to see you now.”

Whereto Rudeger, the high-hearted knight, answered, “Thou rejoicest with cause, for my mistress’s kinsmen are men of proven worth, and they bring many valiant knights with them.”

It was on a midsummer eve that they came to Etzel’s court, and seldom hath been heard such high greeting as he gave to the heroes. Then he went merrily to table with them, and no host ever entreated guests better. Meat and drink they had in plenty. All that they desired stood ready for them, for many marvels had been told of them.

The rich king had built a great castle at much cost and trouble—palaces, and towers, and chambers without number, in a big fortress, and thereto a goodly hall. He had ordered it to be built long and high and wide, by reason of the many knights that flocked to his court without cease. Twelve great kings were his liegemen, and many warriors of much worship he had always by him, more than any king I ever heard of. He lived merrily with kinsmen and vassals round him, with the joyful tumult of good knights on every side. By reason whereof his heart was uplifted.

Thirtieth Adventure How Hagen and Folker Kept Watch

The day was now ended and the night drew nigh. The way-weary warriors were fain to rest, and lie down on their beds, but knew not how to compass it. Hagen asked, and brought them word.

Gunther said to the host, “God have thee in His keeping. Give us leave to go and sleep. If thou desire it, we will come again early in the morning.” Then Etzel parted merrily from his guests.

From all sides the folk pressed in on the strangers. Bold Folker said to the Huns, “How dare ye get before our feet? If ye void not the way, it will be the worse for you. I will give some of you a blow with this fiddle that may cause your friends to weep. Fall back from us warriors. Certes, ye had better. Ye be knights in name and naught else.”

While the fiddler spake thus wrothfully, bold Hagen looked over his shoulder and said, “The minstrel giveth you good counsel. Get to your lodging, ye men of Kriemhild. This is no time for your malice. If ye would start a quarrel, come to us to-morrow early, and let us way-weary warriors lie this night in peace. I ween ye will find none readier than we are.”

They led the guests to a spacious hall, where they found beds, big and costly, standing ready. Gladly had the queen worked their doom. Coverlets of bright stuffs from Arras were there, and testers of silk of Araby, the goodliest that could be, broidered and shining with gold. The bed-clothes were of ermine and black sable, for them to rest under, the night through, till the day. In such state never king lay before with his men.

“Woe is me for our lodging!” said Giselher the youth, “and for my friends that came hither with us. My sister sent us fair words, but I fear we must all soon lie dead through her.”

“Grieve not,” said Hagen the knight. “I will myself keep watch, and will guard thee well, I trow, till the day. Fear naught till then. After that, each shall look to himself.”

They bowed to him and thanked him. They went to their beds, and, or long, the valiant men were lying soft. Then bold Hagen began to arm him.

Folker the fiddler said, “If thou scorn not my help, Hagen, I would keep watch with thee till the morning.”

The hero thanked Folker, “God in Heaven quit you, dear Folker. In all my troubles and my straits I desire thee only and no other. I will do as much for thee, if death hinder it not.”

They both did on their shining harness. Each took his shield in his hand, and went out before the door to keep watch over the strangers. They did it faithfully.

Brave Folker leaned his good shield against the wall, and went back and took his fiddle, and did fair and seemly service to his friends. He sat down under the lintel upon the stone. There never was a bolder minstrel. When the sweet tones sounded from his strings, the proud homeless ones all thanked him. He struck so loud that the house echoed. Great were his skill and strength both. Then he played sweeter and softer, till he had lulled many a careworn man to sleep. When Folker found they were all asleep, he took his shield in his hand again, and went out and stood before the door, to guard his friends from Kriemhild’s men.

About the middle of the night, or sooner, bold Folker saw a helmet in the distance, shining in the dark. Kriemhild’s vassals were fain to do them a hurt. Or she sent them forth, she said, “For God’s sake, if ye win at them, slay none save the one man, false Hagen; let the others live.”

Then spake the fiddler, “Friend Hagen, we must bear this matter through together. I see armed folk before the house. I ween they come against us.”

“Hold thy peace,” answered Hagen. “Let them come nigher. Or they are ware of us, there will be helmets cloven by the swords in our two hands. They shall be sent back to Kriemhild in sorry plight.”

One of the Hunnish knights saw that the door was guarded, and said hastily, “We cannot carry this thing through. I see the fiddler standing guard. He hath on his head a shining helmet, bright and goodly, with no dint therein, and stark thereto. The rings of his harness glow like fire. Hagen standeth by him. The strangers are well watched.”

They turned without more ado. When Folker saw this, he spake angrily to his comrade, “Let me go out to these knights. I would ask Kriemhild’s men a question.”

“Nay, as thou lovest me,” said Hagen. “If thou wentest to them, thou wouldst fall in such strait by their swords that I must help thee, though all my kinsmen perished thereby. If both the twain of us fell to fighting, two or three of them might easily spring into the house, and do such hurt to the sleepers as we could never mourn enow.”

But Folker said, “Let us tell them that we have seen them, that they deny not their treachery.” Then Folker called out to them, “Why go ye there armed, valiant knights? Is it murder ye are after, ye men of Kriemhild? Take me and my comrade to help you.”

None answered him. Right wroth was he.

“Shame on you, cowards! Would ye have slain us sleeping? Seldom afore hath so foul a deed been done on good knights.”

The queen was heavy of her cheer when they told her that her messengers had failed. She began to contrive it otherwise, for grim was her mood, and by reason thereof many a good knight and bold soon perished.

Thirty-First Adventure How the Burgundians Went to Church

“My harness is grown so cold,” said Folker, “that I ween the night is far spent. I feel, by the air, that it will soon be day.”

Then they waked the knights that still slept.

The bright morning shone in on the warriors in the hall, and Hagen began to ask them if they would go to the minster to hear mass. The bells were ringing according to Christian custom.

The folk sang out of tune: it was not mickle wonder, when Christian and heathen sang together. Gunther’s men were minded to go to church, and rose from their beds. They did on their fine apparel—never knights brought goodlier weed into any king’s land. But Hagen was wroth, and said, “Ye did better to wear other raiment. Ye know how it standeth with us here. Instead of roses, bear weapons in your hands, and instead of jewelled caps, bright helmets. Of wicked Kriemhild’s mood we are well aware. I tell you there will be fighting this day. For your silken tunics wear your hauberks, and good broad shields for rich mantels, that, if any fall on you, ye may be ready. My masters dear, my kinsmen, and my men, go to the church and bewail your sorrow and your need before great God, for know, of a surety, that death draweth nigh. Forget not wherein ye have sinned, and stand humbly before your Maker. Be warned, most noble knights. If God in Heaven help you not, ye will hear mass no more.”

So the kings and their men went to the minster. Hagen bade them pause in the churchyard, that they might not be parted. He said, “None knoweth yet what the Huns may attempt on us. Lay your shields at your feet, my friends, and if any give you hostile greeting, answer him with deep wounds and deadly. That is Hagen’s counsel, that ye may be found ready, as beseemeth you.”

Folker and Hagen went and stood before the great minster. They did this, that the queen might be forced to push past them. Right grim was their mood.

Then came the king and his beautiful wife. Her body was adorned with rich apparel, and the knights in her train were featly clad. The dust rose high before the queen’s attendants.

When the rich king saw the princes and their followers armed, he said hastily, “Why go my friends armed? By my troth it would grieve me if any had done aught to them. I will make it good to them on any wise they ask it. Hath any troubled their hearts, he shall feel my displeasure. Whatso they demand of me I will do.”

Hagen answered, “None hath wrought us annoy. It is the custom of my masters to go armed at all hightides for full three days. If any did us a mischief, Etzel should hear thereof.”

Right well Kriemhild heard Hagen’s words. She looked at him from under her eyelids with bitter hate. Yet she told not the custom of her land, albeit she knew it well from aforetime. Howso grim and deadly the queen’s anger was, none had told Etzel how it stood, else he had hindered what afterward befell. They scorned, through pride, to tell their wrong.

The queen advanced with a great crowd of folk, but the twain moved not two hands’ breadth, whereat the Huns were wroth, for they had to press past the heroes. This pleased not Etzel’s chamberlains, and they had gladly quarrelled with them, had they dared before the king. There was much jostling, and nothing more.

When the mass was over, many a Hun sprang to horse. With Kriemhild were also many beautiful maidens. Kriemhild sat by Etzel at a window with her women, to see the bold warriors ride, the which the king loved to do. Ha! many a stranger knight spurred below in the court!

The marshal brought out the horses. Bold Dankwart had gathered together his master’s followers from Burgundy. Well-saddled horses were led up for the Nibelungs. When the kings and their men were mounted, Folker counselled them to joust after the fashion of their country. Full knightly they rode in the tourney. The counsel was welcome to all, and a mighty din and clang of arms soon arose in the great tilt-yard, while Etzel and Kriemhild looked on.

Sixty of Dietrich’s knights spurred forward to meet the strangers. They were eager for the onset, had Dietrich allowed it, for goodly men were his. But it irked him when he heard thereof, and forbade them to cross lances with Gunther’s warriors. He feared it might go hard with his knights.

When the knights of Bern were gone out of the yard, five hundred of Rudeger’s men of Bechlaren rode up before the castle, with their shields. The Margrave had been better pleased if they had stayed away. He pressed through the crowd, and said to them that they themselves knew how that Gunther’s men were wroth, and that he would have them quit the tourney.

When these also had gone back, they say that the knights of Thüringen and a thousand bold Danes rode in. Then the splinters flew from the lances. Irnfried and Hawart rode into the tourney. The Rhinelanders met them proudly. They encountered the men of Thüringen in many a joust; pierced was many a shield.

Sir Blœdel came on with three thousand. Etzel and Kriemhild saw plainly all that passed below. The queen rejoiced, by reason of the hate she bare the Burgundians. She thought in her heart,—what happed or long—“If they wounded any, the sport might turn to a battle. I would fain be revenged on my foes; certes, it would not grieve me.”

Schrutan and Gibek came next, and Ramung and Hornbog, after the manner of the Huns. They all bare them boldly before the Burgundians. High over the king’s palace flew the splinters. Yet all they did was but empty sound. Gunther’s men made the house and the castle ring with the clash of shields. They won great honour. So keen was their pastime that the foot-cloths ran with the sweat of the horses, as they rode proudly against the Huns.

Then said stout Folker the fiddler, “These knights dare not confront us, I ween. I have heard that they hate us. They could not have a fitter time to prove it.”

“Lead the horses to their stalls,” said the king. “Toward evening ye may ride again, if there be time for it. Haply the queen may then give the prize to the Burgundians.”

At that moment a knight rode into the lists, prouder than any other Hun. Belike he had a dear one at the window. He was rich apparelled like a bride.

Folker said, “I cannot help it. Yonder woman’s darling must have a stroke. None shall hinder me. Let him look to his life. I care not how wroth Etzel’s wife may be.”

“Nay now, for my sake,” said the king. “The folk will blame us if we begin the fray. Let the Huns be the first. It were better so.”

Still Etzel sat by the queen.

“I will join thee in the tourney,” cried Hagen. “It were well that these women and these knights saw how we can ride. They give Gunther’s men scant praise.”

Bold Folker spurred back into the lists. Thereby many a woman won heart’s dole. He stabbed the proud Hun through the body with his spear. Many a maid and many a wife was yet to weep for it. Hagen and his sixty knights followed hard on the fiddler. Etzel and Kriemhild saw it all plain.

The three kings left not the doughty minstrel alone among his foemen. A thousand knights rode to the rescue. They were haughty and overweening, and did as they would.

When the proud Hun was slain, the sound of weeping and wailing rose from his kinsmen. All asked, “Who hath done it?” and got answer, “It was Folker, the bold fiddler.”

The friends of the Hunnish Margrave called straightway for their swords and their shields, that they might kill Folker. The host hasted from the window. There was a mighty uproar among the Huns. The kings and their followers alighted before the hall, and beat back their horses.

Then came Etzel and began to part the fray. He seized a sharp sword out of the hand of one of the Hun’s kinsmen that stood nigh, and thrust them all back. He was greatly wroth, “Ye would have me fail in honour toward these knights! If ye had slain this minstrel, I tell you I would have hanged you all. I marked him well when he slew the Hun, and saw that it was not with intent, but that his horse stumbled. Let my guests leave the tilt-yard in peace.”

He gave them escort, himself, and their horses were led to the stalls, for many varlets stood ready to serve them.

The host went with his guests into the palace, and bade the anger cease. They set the table, and brought water. The knights of the Rhine had stark foemen enow. Though it irked Etzel, many armed knights pressed in after the kings, when they went to table, by reason of their hate. They waited a chance to avenge their kinsman.

“Ye be too unmannerly,” said the host, “to sit down armed to eat. Whoso among you toucheth my guests shall pay for it with his head. I have spoken, O Huns.”

It was long or the knights were all seated. Bitter was Kriemhild’s wrath. She said, “Prince of Bern, I seek thy counsel and thy kind help in my sore need.”

But Hildebrand, the good knight, answered, “Who slayeth the Nibelungs shall do it without me; I care not what price thou offerest. None shall essay it but he shall rue it, for never yet have these doughty knights been vanquished.”

“I ask the death of none save Hagen, that hath wronged me. He slew Siegfried, my dear husband. He that chose him from among the others for vengeance should have my gold without stint. I were inly grieved did any suffer save Hagen.”

But Hildebrand answered, “How could one slay him alone? Thou canst see for thyself, that, if he be set upon, they will all to battle, and poor and rich alike must perish.”

Said Dietrich also, courteously, “Great queen, say no more. Thy kinsmen have done naught to me that I should defy them to the death. It is little to thine honour that thou wouldst compass the doom of thy kinsmen. They came hither under safe conduct, and not by the hand of Dietrich shall Siegfried be avenged.”

When she found no treachery in the knight of Bern, she tempted Blœdel with the promise of a goodly estate that had been Nudung’s. Dankwart slew him after, that he clean forgot the gift.

She said, “Help me, Sir Blœdel. In this house are the foes that slew Siegfried, my dear husband. If any avenge me, I will ever serve him.”

Blœdel, that sat by her, answered, “I dare not show thy kinsmen such hate, so long as my brother showeth them favour. The king would not forgive me if I defied them.”

“Nay now, Sir Blœdel, I will stand by thee, and give thee silver and gold for meed, and, thereto, a beautiful woman, the widow of Nudung, that thou mayest have her to thy dear one. I will give the all, land and castles, and thou shalt live joyfully with her on the march that was Nudung’s. In good sooth I will do what I promise.”

When Blœdel heard the fee, and because the woman pleased him for her fairness, he resolved to win her by battle. So came he to lose his life.

He said to the queen, “Go back into the hall. Or any is ware thereof, I will raise a great tumult. Hagen shall pay for what he hath done. I will bring thee King Gunther’s man bound.”

“Now arm ye, my men,” cried Blœdel, “and let us fall on the foemen in their lodging. King Etzel’s wife giveth me no peace, and at her bidding we must risk our lives.”

When the queen had left Blœdel to begin the strife, she went in to table with King Etzel and his men. She had woven an evil snare against the guests.

I will tell you how they went into the hall. Crowned kings went before her; many high princes and knights of worship attended the queen. Etzel assigned to all the guests their places, the highest and the best in the hall. Christians and heathens had their different meats, whereof they ate to the full; for so the wise king ordered it. The yeomen feasted in their own quarters, where sewers served them, that had been charged with the care of their food. But revel and merriment were soon turned to weeping.

Kriemhild’s old wrong lay buried in her heart, and when the strife could not be kindled otherwise, she bade them bring Etzel’s son to table. Did ever any woman so fearful a thing for vengeance?

Four of Etzel’s men went straightway and brought in Ortlieb, the young king, to the princes’ table, where Hagen also sat. Through his murderous hate the child perished.

When Etzel saw his son, he spake kindly to his wife’s brethren, “See now, my friends, that is my only son, and your sister’s child. Some day he will serve you well. If he take after his kin, he will be a valiant man, rich and right noble, stark and comely. If I live, I will give him the lordship of twelve countries. Fair service ye may yet have from young Ortlieb’s hand. Wherefore I pray ye, my dear friends, that, when ye ride back to the Rhine, ye take with you your sister’s son, and do well by the child. Rear him in honour till he be a man, and when he is full grown, if any harry your land, he will help you to avenge it.” Kriemhild, the wife of Etzel, heard all that the king said.

Hagen answered, “If he grow to be a man, he may well help these knights. But he hath a weakly look. Methinketh I shall seldom go to Ortlieb’s court.”

The king eyed Hagen sternly, for his word irked him. Albeit he answered not again, he was troubled, and heavy of his cheer. Hagen was no friend to merriment.

The king and his liegemen misliked sore what Hagen had said of the child, and were wroth that they must bear it. They knew not yet what the warrior was to do after. Not a few that heard it, and that bare him hate, had gladly fallen upon him: the king also, had not honour forbidden him. Ill had Hagen sped. Yet soon he did worse: he slew his child before his eyes.

Thirty-Second Adventure How Blœdel Fought With Dankwart in the Hall

Blœdel’s knights all stood ready. With a thousand hauberks they went where Dankwart sat at table with the yeomen. Grim was soon the hate between the heroes.

When Sir Blœdel strode up to the table, Dankwart the marshal greeted him fair. “Welcome to this house, Sir Blœdel. What news dost thou bring?”

“Greet me not,” said Blœdel. “My coming meaneth thy death, because of Hagen, thy brother, that slew Siegfried. Thou and many another knight shall pay for it.”

“Nay now, Sir Blœdel,” said Dankwart. “So might we well rue this hightide. I was a little child when Siegfried lost his life. I know not what King Etzel’s wife hath against me.”

“I can tell thee nothing, save that thy kinsmen, Gunther and Hagen, did it. Now stand on your defence, ye homeless ones. Ye must die, for your lives are forfeit to Kriemhild.”

“Dost thou persist?” said Dankwart. “Then it irketh me that I asked it. I had better have spared my words.”

The good knight and bold sprang up from the table, and drew a sharp weapon that was mickle and long, and smote Blœdel a swift blow therewith, that his head, in its helmet, fell at their feet.

“That be thy wedding-gift to Nudung’s bride, that thou thoughtest to win!” he cried. “Let them mate her to-morrow with another man; if he ask the dowry, he can have the like.” A faithful Hun had told him that morning, secretly, that the queen plotted their doom.

When Blœdel’s men saw their master lying slain, they endured it no longer, but fell with drawn swords in grim wrath on the youths. Many rued it later.

Loud cried Dankwart to the squires and the yeomen, “Ye see that we are undone. Fight for your lives, ye homeless ones, that ye may lie dead without shame.”

They that had not swords seized the benches, and caught up the stools from the floor. The squires of Burgundy were not slow to answer them. With these they dinted many a helmet.

The homeless youths made grim defence. They drave the armed men from the house. Yet five hundred and more lay therein dead. They were red and wet with blood.

This heave news reached Etzel’s knights. Grim was their grief that Blœdel and his men were slain by the brother of Hagen, and the squires. Or Etzel knew anything of the matter, two thousand Huns or more did on their armour and hasted thither, for so it must needs be, and left not one alive. These false knights brought a mighty host before the house. The strangers defended them well; but what availed their prowess? They had all to die. Or long the fray waxed grimmer yet.

Now shall ye list to marvels and wondrous deeds. Nine thousand squires lay dead, and twelve of Dankwart’s men. He stood alone among his foes. The noise was hushed, the din had ceased. Dankwart looked over his shoulder and cried, “Woe is me for the friends I have lost! Among my foemen I stand alone.”

Swords enow fell upon his body. Many a hero’s wife was yet to weep for it. He raised his buckler, and lowered the thong, and wetted many a hauberk with blood.

“Woe is me for this wrong!” cried Aldrian’s child. “Stand back, ye knights of Hungary, and let me to the air, that it cool a battle-weary man.” Then he began, in their despite, to hew his way to the door.

When he sprang from the house, how many a sword rang on his helmet! They that had not seen the wonders of his hand fell upon him there.

“Would to God,” said Dankwart, “I had a messenger to tell my brother Hagen in what peril I stand! He would help me hence, or die by me.”

But the Hunnish knights answered, “Thou, thyself, shalt be the messenger, when we carry thee in dead to thy brother. So shall Gunther’s man first hear of his loss. To Etzel thou hast done grievous hurt.”

He said, “Keep your threats, and stand back, or I will wet the harness of some of you. I will bear the news myself to the court, and bewail my great wrong to my masters.”

He did Etzel’s men such scathe, that they durst not draw against him. Then they shot so many darts into his shield that he must drop it for heaviness.

They thought to vanquish him without his shield. Ha! what deep wounds he made in their helmets! Many a bold man staggered before him. Great honour and praise were Dankwart’s. From both sides they sprang at him. I ween they were too hasty. He fought his way through his foemen like a wild boar in the forest through the hounds—bolder he could not have been. His path was ever wet anew with hot blood. When did single knight withstand foemen better? Proudly Hagen’s brother went to court.

The sewers and the cup-bearers heard the clash of swords. Many dropped the drink and the meats they carried. On the stairs he found stark enemies enow.

“How now, ye sewers?” cried the weary knight; “see to the guests, and bear in the good meats to your lords, and let me take my message to my masters.”

They that had the hardihood, and sprang down on him from the stairs, he smote so fiercely with his sword that they fell back for fear. With his strength he had done right wonderly.

Thirty-Third Adventure How Dankwart Brought the News to His Masters

Then bold Dankwart strode in through the door, and bade Etzel’s followers void the way; all his harness was covered with blood. It was at the time they were carrying Ortlieb to and fro from table to table among the princes, and through the terrible news the child perished.

Dankwart cried aloud to one of the knights, “Thou sittest here too long, brother Hagen. To thee, and God in Heaven, I bewail our wrong. Knights and squires lie dead in our hall.”

Hagen called back to him, “Who hath done it?”

“Sir Blœdel and his men. He paid for it bitterly, I can tell thee. I smote off his head with my hands.”

“He hath paid too little,” said Hagen, “since it can be said of him that he hath died by the hand of a hero. His womenfolk have the less cause to weep. Now tell me, dear brother; wherefore art thou so red? I ween thy wounds are deep. If he be anywhere near that hath done it, and the Devil help him not, he is a dead man.”

“Unwounded I stand. My harness is wet with the blood of other men, whereof I have to-day slain so many, that I cannot swear to the number.”

Hagen said, “Brother Dankwart, keep the door, and let not a single Hun out; I will speak with the knights as our wrong constraineth me. Guiltless, our followers lie dead.”

“To such great kings will I gladly be chamberlain,” said the bold man; “I will guard the stairs faithfully.”

Kriemhild’s men were sore dismayed.

“I marvel much,” said Hagen, “what the Hunnish knights whisper in each other’s ears. I ween they could well spare him that standeth at the door, and hath brought this court news to the Burgundians. I have long heard Kriemhild say that she could not bear her heart’s dole. Now drink we to Love, and taste the king’s wine. The young prince of the Huns shall be the first.”

With that, Hagen slew the child Ortlieb, that the blood gushed down on his hand from his sword, and the head flew up into the queen’s lap. Then a slaughter grim and great arose among the knights. He slew the child’s guardian with a sword stroke from both his hands, that the head fell down before the table. It was sorry pay he gave the tutor. He saw a minstrel sitting at Etzel’s table, and sprang at him in wrath, and lopped off his right hand on his viol: “Take that for the message thou broughtest to the Burgundians.”

“Woe is me for my hand!” cried Werbel. “Sir Hagen of Trony, what have I done to thee? I rode with true heart to thy master’s land. How shall I make my music now?”

Little recked Hagen if he never fiddled more. He quenched on Etzel’s knights, in the house there, his grim lust for blood, and smote to death not a few.

Swift Folker sprang from the table; his fiddle-bow rang loud. Harsh were the tunes of Gunther’s minstrel. Ha! many a foe he made among the Huns!

The three kings, too, rose hastily. They would have parted them or more harm was done. But they could not, for Folker and Hagen were beside themselves with rage.

When the King of Rhineland could not stint the strife, he, also, smote many a deep wound through the shining harness of his foemen. Well he showed his hardihood.

Then stark Gernot came into the battle, and slew many Huns with the sharp sword that Rudeger had given him. He brought many of Etzel’s knights to their graves therewith.

Uta’s youngest son sprang into the fray, and pierced the helmets of Etzel’s knights valiantly with his weapon. Bold Giselher’s hand did wonderly.

But howso valiant all the others were, the kings and their men, Folker stood up bolder than any against the foes; he was a hero; he wounded many, that they fell down in their blood.

Etzel’s liegemen warded them well, but the guests hewed their way with their bright swords up and down the hall. From all sides came the sound of wailing. They that were without would gladly have won in to their friends, but could not; and they that were within would have won out, but Dankwart let none of them up the stair or down. Then a great crowd gathered before the door, and the swords clanged loud upon the helmets, so that Dankwart came in much scathe. Hagen feared for him, as was meet, and he cried aloud to Folker, “Comrade, seest thou my brother beset by the stark blows of the Huns? Save him, friend, or we lose the warrior.”

“That will I, without fail,” said the minstrel; and he began to fiddle his way through the hall; it was a hard sword that rang in his hand. Great thank he won from the knights of the Rhine.

He said to Dankwart, “Thou hast toiled hard to-day. Thy brother bade me come to thy help. Do thou go without, and I will stand within.”

Dankwart went outside the door and guarded the stair. Loud din made the weapons of the heroes. Inside, Folker the Burgundian did the like. The bold fiddler cried above the crowd, “The house is well warded, friend Hagen; Etzel’s door is barred by the hands of two knights that have made it fast with a thousand bolts.”

When Hagen saw the door secured, the famous knight and good threw back his shield, and began to avenge the death of his friends in earnest. Many a valiant knight suffered for his wrath.

When the Prince of Bern saw the wonders that Hagen wrought, and the helmets that he brake, he sprang on to a bench, and cried, “Hagen poureth out the bitterest wine of all.”

The host and his wife fell in great fear. Many a dear friend was slain before their eyes. Etzel himself scarce escaped from his foemen. He sat there affrighted. What did it profit him that he was a king?

Proud Kriemhild cried to Dietrich, “Help me, noble knight, by the princely charity of an Amelung king, to come hence alive. If Hagen reach me, death standeth by my side.”

“How can I help thee, noble queen? I cannot help myself. Gunther’s men are so grimly wroth that I can win grace for none.”

“Nay now, good Sir Dietrich, show thy mercy, and help me hence or I die. Save me and the king from this great peril.”

“I will try. Albeit, for long, I have not seen good knights in such a fury. The blood gusheth from the helmets at their sword-strokes.”

The chosen knight shouted with a loud voice that rang out like the blast of a buffalo horn, so that all the castle echoed with its strength, for stark and of mickle might was Dietrich.

King Gunther heard his cry above the din of strife, and hearkened. He said, “The voice of Dietrich hath reached me. I ween our knights have slain some of his men. I see him on the table, beckoning with his hand. Friends and kinsmen of Burgundy, hold, that we may learn what we have done to Dietrich’s hurt.”

When King Gunther had begged and prayed them, they lowered their swords. Thereby Gunther showed his might, that they smote no blow. Then he asked the Prince of Bern what he wanted. He said, “Most noble Dietrich, what hurt have my friends done thee? I will make it good. Sore grieved were I, had any done thee scathe.”

But Sir Dietrich answered, “Naught hath been done against me. With thy safe-conduct let me quit this hall, and the bitter strife, with my men. For this I will ever serve thee.”

“Why ask this grace?” said Wolfhart. “The fiddler hath not barred the door so fast that we cannot set it wide, and go forth.”

“Hold thy peace,” cried Dietrich. “Thou hast played the Devil.”

Then Gunther answered, “I give thee leave. Lead forth few or many, so they be not my foemen. These shall tarry within, for great wrong have I suffered from the Huns.”

When the knight of Bern heard that, he put one arm round the queen, for she was greatly affrighted, and with the other he led out Etzel. Six hundred good knights followed Dietrich.

Then said noble Rudeger, the Margrave, “If any more of them that love and would serve thee may win from this hall, let us hear it; that peace may endure, as is seemly, betwixt faithful friends.”

Straightway Giselher answered his father-in-law. “Peace and love be betwixt us. Thou and thy liegemen have been ever true to us, wherefore depart with thy friends, fearing nothing.”

When Sir Rudeger left the hall, five hundred or more went out with him. The Burgundian knights did honourably therein, but King Gunther suffered scathe for it after.

One of the Huns would have saved himself when he saw King Etzel go out with Dietrich, but the fiddler smote him such a blow that his head fell down at Etzel’s feet.

When the king of the land was gone out from the house, he turned and looked at Folker. “Woe is me for such guests! It is a hard and bitter thing that all my knights fall dead before them! Alack! this hightide!” wailed the great king. “There is one within that hight Folker. He is liker a wild boar than a fiddler. I thank Heaven that I escaped the devil. His tunes are harsh; his bow is red. His notes smite many a hero dead. I know not what this minstrel hath against us. Never was guest so unwelcome.”

The knight of Bern, and Sir Rudeger, went each to his lodging. They desired not to meddle with the strife, and they bade their men avoid the fray.

Had the guests known what hurt the twain would do them after, they had not won so lightly from the hall, but had gotten a stroke from the bold ones in passing.

All that they would let go were gone. Then arose a mighty din. The guests avenged them bitterly. Ha! many a helmet did Folker break!

King Gunther turned his ear to the noise. “Dost thou hear the tunes, Hagen, that Folker playeth yonder on the Huns, when any would win through the door? The hue of his bow is red.”

“It repenteth me sore,” spake Hagen, “to be parted from the knight. I was his comrade, and he mine. If we win home again, we shall ever be true friends. See now, great king, how he serveth thee. He earneth thy silver and thy gold. His fiddle-bow cleaveth the hard steel, and scattereth on the ground the bright jewels on the helmets. Never have I seen a minstrel make such stand. His measures ring through helmet and shield. Good horse shall he ride, and wear costly apparel.”

Of the Huns that had been in the hall, not one was left alive. The tumult fell, for there was none to fight, and the bold warriors laid down their swords.

Thirty-Fourth Adventure How They Threw Down the Dead

The knights sat down through weariness. Folker and Hagen went out before the hall. There the overweening men leaned on their shields and spake together.

Then said Giselher of Burgundy, “Rest not yet, dear friends. Ye must carry the dead out of the house. We shall be set upon again; trow my word. These cannot lie longer among our feet. Or the Huns overcome us, we will hew many wounds; to the which I am nothing loth.”

“Well for me that I have such a lord,” answered Hagen. “This counsel suiteth well such a knight as our young master hath approved him this day. Ye Burgundians have cause to rejoice.”

They did as he commanded, and bare the seven thousand dead bodies to the door, and threw them out. They fell down at the foot of the stair. Then arose a great wail from their kinsmen. Some of them were so little wounded that, with softer nursing, they had come to. Now, from the fall, these died also. Their friends wept and made bitter dole.

Then said bold Folker the fiddler, “Now I perceive they spake the truth that told me the Huns were cowards. They weep like women, when they might tend these wounded bodies.”

A Margrave that was there deemed he meant this truly. He saw one of his kinsmen lying in his blood, and put his arms round him to bear him away. Him the minstrel shot dead.

When the others saw this, they fled, and began to curse Folker. With that, he lifted a sharp spear and hard from the ground, that a Hun had shot at him, and hurled it strongly across the courtyard, over the heads of the folk. Etzel’s men took their stand further off, for they all feared his might.

Then came Etzel with his men before the hall. Folker and Hagen began to speak out their mind to the King of the Huns. They suffered for it or all was done.

“It is well for a people when its kings fight in the forefront of the strife as doeth each of my masters. They hew the helmets, and the blood spurteth out.”

Etzel was brave, and he grasped his shield. “Have a care,” cried Kriemhild, “and offer thy knights gold heaped upon the shield. If Hagen reach thee, thou hast death at thy hand.”

But the king was so bold he would not stop; the which is rare enow among great princes to-day. They had to pull him back by his shield-thong; whereat grim Hagen began to mock anew. “Siegfried’s darling and Etzel’s are near of kin. Siegfried had Kriemhild to wife or ever she saw thee. Coward king, thou, of all men, shouldst bear me no grudge.”

When Kriemhild heard him, she was bitterly wroth that he durst mock her before Etzel’s warriors, and she strove to work them woe. She said, “To him that will slay Hagen of Trony and bring me his head, I will fill Etzel’s shield with red gold. Thereto, he shall have, for his meed, goodly castles and land.”

“I know not why ye hang back,” said the minstrel. “I never yet saw heroes stand dismayed that had the offer of such pay. Etzel hath small cause to love you. I see many cowards standing here that eat the king’s bread, and fail him now in his sore need, and yet call themselves bold knights. Shame upon them!”

Great Etzel was grieved enow. He wept sore for his dead men and kinsmen. Valiant warriors of many lands stood round him, and bewailed his great loss with him.

Then bold Folker mocked them again. “I see many high-born knights weeping here, that help their king little in his need. Long have they eaten his bread with shame.”

The best among them thought, “He sayeth sooth.”

But none mourned so inly as Iring, the hero of Denmark; the which was proven or long by his deeds.

Thirty-Fifth Adventure How Iring Was Slain

Then cried Iring, the Margrave of Denmark, “I have long followed honour, and done not amiss in battle. Bring me my harness, and I will go up against Hagen.”

“Thou hadst better not,” answered Hagen, “or thy kinsmen will have more to weep for. Though ye sprang up two or three together, ye would fall down the stair the worse for it.”

“I care not,” said Iring. “I have oft tried as hard a thing. With my single sword I would defy thee, if thou hadst done twice as much in the strife.”

Sir Iring armed him straightway. Irnfried of Thuringia, likewise, a bold youth, and Hawart the stark, with a thousand men that were fain to stand by Iring.

When the fiddler saw so great an armed host with him, wearing bright helmets on their heads, he was wroth. “Behold how Iring cometh hither, that vowed to encounter thee alone. It beseemeth not a knight to lie. I blame him much. A thousand armed knights or more come with him.”

“Call me no liar,” said Hawart’s liegeman. “I will gladly abide by my word, nor fail therein through fear. How grim soever Hagen may be, I will meet him alone.”

Iring fell at the feet of his kinsmen and vassals, that they might let him defy the knight in single combat. They were loth, for they knew proud Hagen of Burgundy well. But he prayed them so long that they consented. When his followers saw that he wooed honour, they let him go. Then began a deadly strife betwixt them.

Iring of Denmark, the chosen knight, raised his spear; then he covered his body with his shield, and sprang at Hagen. The heroes made a loud din. They hurled their spears so mightily from their hands, that they pierced through the strong bucklers to the bright harness, and the shafts flew high in the air. Then the grimly bold men grasped their swords.

Hagen was strong beyond measure, yet Iring smote him, that all the house rang. Palace and tower echoed their blows. But neither had the advantage.

Iring left Hagen unwounded, and sprang at the fiddler. He thought to vanquish him by his mighty blows. But the gleeman stood well on his guard, and smote his foeman, that the steel plate of his buckler flew off. He was a terrible man.

Then Iring ran at Gunther, the King of Burgundy.

Fell enow were the twain. But though each smote fiercely at the other, they drew no blood. Their good harness shielded them.

He left Gunther, and ran at Gernot, and began to strike sparks from his mailcoat, but King Gernot of Burgundy well-nigh slew him. Then he sprang from the princes, for he was right nimble, and soon had slain four Burgundians from Worms beyond the Rhine. Giselher was greatly wroth thereat. “Now by God, Sir Iring,” he cried, “thou shalt pay for them that lie dead!” and he fell on him. He smote the Dane, that began to stagger, and dropped down among the blood, so that all deemed the doughty warrior would never strike another blow. Yet Iring lay unwounded withal before Giselher. From the noise of his helmet and the clang of the sword his wits left him, and he lay in a swoon. That had Giselher done with his strong arm.

When the noise of the blow had cleared from his brain, he thought, “I live still, and am unwounded. Now I know the strength of Giselher.” He heard his foemen on both sides. Had they been ware how it stood with him, worse had befallen him. He heard Giselher also, and he pondered by what device he might escape them. He sprang up furiously from among the blood. Well his swiftness served him. He fled from the house, past Hagen, and gave him a stout stroke as he ran.

“Ha!” thought Hagen, “Thou shalt die for this. The Devil help thee, or thou art a dead man.” But Iring wounded Hagen through the helmet. He did it with Vasky, a goodly weapon.

When Hagen felt the wound, he swung his sword fiercely, that Hawart’s man must needs fly. Hagen followed him down the stair. But Iring held his shield above his head. Had the stair been thrice as long, Hagen had not left him time for a single thrust. Ha! what red sparks flew from his helmet! Yet, safe withal, Iring reached his friends.

When Kriemhild heard what he had done to Hagen of Trony in the strife, she thanked him. “God quit thee, Iring, thou hero undismayed! thou hast comforted me, heart and soul, for I see Hagen’s harness red with blood.” The glad queen took the shield from his hand herself.

“Stint thy thanks,” said Hagen. “There is scant cause for them. If he tried it again, he were in sooth a bold man. The wound I got from him will serve thee little. The blood thou seest on my harness but urgeth me to slay the more. Only now, for the first time, I am wroth indeed. Sir Iring hath done me little hurt.”

Iring of Denmark stood against the wind, and cooled him in his harness, with his helmet unlaced; and all the folk praised his hardihood, that the Margrave’s heart was uplifted. He said, “Friends, arm me anew. I will essay it again. Haply I may vanquish this overweening man.” His shield was hewn in pieces; they brought him a better straight.

The warrior was soon armed, and stronger than afore. Wrothfully he seized a stark spear, wherewith he defied Hagen yet again. He had won more profit and honour had he let it be.

Hagen waited not for his coming. Hurling darts, and with drawn sword, he sprang down the stairs in a fury. Iring’s strength availed him little. They smote at each other’s shields, that glowed with a fire-red wind. Through his helmet and his buckler, Hawart’s man was wounded to the death by Hagen’s sword. He was never whole again.

When Sir Iring felt the wound, he raised his shield higher to guard his head, for he perceived that he was sore hurt. But Gunther’s man did worse to him yet. He found a spear lying at his feet, and hurled it at Iring, the knight of Denmark, that it stuck out on the other side of his head. The overweening knight made a grim end of his foeman.

Iring fell back among his friends. Or they did off his helmet, they drew the spear out. Then death stood at hand. Loud mourned his friends; their sorrow was bitter.

The queen came, and began to weep for stark Iring. She wept for his wounds, and was right doleful. But the undismayed hero spake before his kinsmen, “Weep not, noble lady. What avail thy tears? I must die from these wounds that I have gotten. Death will not leave me longer to thee and Etzel.”

Then he said to them of Thuringia and Denmark, “See that none of you take the gifts of the queen—her bright gold so red. If ye fight with Hagen ye must die.”

His cheek was pale; he bare death’s mark. They grieved enow; for Hawart’s man would nevermore be whole. Then they of Denmark must needs to the fray.

Irnfried and Hawart sprang forward with a thousand knights. The din was loud over all. Ha! what sharp spears were hurled at the Burgundians! Bold Irnfried ran at the gleeman, and came in scathe by his hand. The fiddler smote the Landgrave through his strong helmet, for he was grim enow. Then Irnfried gave Folker a blow, that the links of his hauberk brake asunder, and his harness grew red like fire. Yet, for all, the Landgrave fell dead before the fiddler.

Hawart and Hagen closed in strife. Had any seen it, they had beheld wonders. They smote mightily with their swords. Hawart died by the knight of Burgundy.

When the Thuringians and Danes saw their masters slain, they rushed yet fiercer against the house, and grisly was the strife or they won to the door. Many a helmet and buckler were hewn in pieces.

“Give way,” cried Folker, “and let them in. They shall not have their will, but, in lieu thereof, shall perish. They will earn the queen’s gift with their death.”

The proud warriors thronged into the hall, but many an one bowed his head, slain by swift blows. Well fought bold Gernot; the like did Giselher.

A thousand and four came in. Keen and bright flashed the swords; but all the knights died. Great wonders might be told of the Burgundians.

When the tumult fell, there was silence. Over all, the blood of the dead men trickled through the crannies into the gutters below. They of the Rhine had done this by their prowess.

Then the Burgundians sat and rested, and laid down their weapons and their shields. The bold gleeman went out before the house, and waited, lest any more should come to fight.

The king and his wife wailed loud. Maids and wives beat their breasts. I ween that Death had sworn an oath against them, for many a knight was yet to die by the hands of the strangers.

Thirty-Sixth Adventure How the Queen Bad Them Burn Down the Hall

“Now do off your helmets,” said Hagen the knight. “I and my comrade will keep watch. And if Etzel’s men try it again, I will warn my masters straightway.”

Then many a good warrior unlaced his helmet. They sat down on the bodies that had fallen in the blood by their hands. With bitter hate the guests were spied at by the Huns.

Before nightfall the king and queen had prevailed on the men of Hungary to dare the combat anew. Twenty thousand or more stood before them ready for battle. These hasted to fall on the strangers.

Dankwart, Hagen’s brother, sprang from his masters to the foemen at the door. They thought he was slain, but he came forth alive.

The strife endured till the night. The guests, as beseemed good warriors, had defended them against Etzel’s men all through the long summer day. Ha! what doughty heroes lay dead before them. It was on a midsummer that the great slaughter fell, when Kriemhild avenged her heart’s dole on her nearest kinsmen, and on many another man, and all King Etzel’s joy was ended. Yet she purposed not at the first to bring it to such a bloody encounter, but only to kill Hagen; but the Devil contrived it so, that they must all perish.

The day was done; they were in sore straits. They deemed a quick death had been better than long anguish. The proud knights would fain have had a truce. They asked that the king might be brought to them.

The heroes, red with blood, and blackened with the soil of their harness, stepped out of the hall with the three kings. They knew not whom to bewail their bitter woe to.

Both Etzel and Kriemhild came. The land all round was theirs, and many had joined their host. Etzel said to the guests, “What would ye with me? Haply ye seek for peace. That can hardly be, after such wrong as ye have done me and mine. Ye shall pay for it while I have life. Because of my child that ye slew, and my many men, nor peace nor truce shall ye have.”

Gunther answered, “A great wrong constrained us thereto. All my followers perished in their lodging by the hands of thy knights. What had I done to deserve that? I came to see thee in good faith, for I deemed thou wert my friend.”

Then said Giselher, the youth, of Burgundy, “Ye knights of King Etzel that yet live, what have ye against me? How had I wronged you?—I that rode hither with loving heart?”

They answered, “Thy love hath filled all the castles of this country with mourning. We had gladly been spared thy journey from Worms beyond the Rhine. Thou hast orphaned the land—thou and thy brothers.”

Then cried Gunther in wrath, “If ye would lay from you this stark hate against us homeless ones, it were well for both sides, for we are guiltless before Etzel.”

But the host answered the guests, “My scathe is greater than thine; because of the mickle toil of the strife, and its shame, not one of you shall come forth alive.”

Then said stark Gernot to the king, “Herein, at the least, incline thy heart to do mercifully with us. Stand back from the house, that we win out to you. We know that our life is forfeit; let what must come, come quickly. Thou hast many knights unwounded; let them fall on us, and give us battle-weary ones rest. How long wouldst thou have us strive?”

King Etzel’s knights would have let them forth, but when Kriemhild heard it, she was wroth, and even this boon was denied to the strangers.

“Nay now, ye Huns, I entreat you, in good faith, that ye let not these lusters after blood come out from the hall, lest thy kinsmen all perish miserably. If none of them were left alive save Uta’s children, my noble brothers, and won they to the air to cool their harness, ye were lost. Bolder knights were never born into the world.”

Then said young Giselher, “Fairest sister mine, right evil I deem it that thou badest me across the Rhine to this bitter woe. How have I deserved death from the Huns? I was ever true to thee, nor did thee any hurt. I rode hither, dearest sister, for that I trusted to thy love. Needs must thou show mercy.”

“I will show no mercy, for I got none. Bitter wrong did Hagen of Trony to me in my home yonder, and here he hath slain my child. They that came with him must pay for it. Yet, if ye will deliver Hagen captive, I will grant your prayer, and let you live; for ye are my brothers, and the children of one mother. I will prevail upon my knights here to grant a truce.”

“God in Heaven forbid!” cried Gernot. “Though we were a thousand, liefer would we all die by thy kinsmen, than give one single man for our ransom. That we will never do.”

“We must perish then,” said Giselher; “but we will fall as good knights. We are still here; would any fight with us? I will never do falsely by my friend.”

Cried bold Dankwart too (he had done ill to hold his peace), “My brother Hagen standeth not alone. They that have denied us quarter may rue it yet. By my troth, ye will find it to your cost.”

Then said the queen, “Ye heroes undismayed, go forward to the steps and avenge our wrong. I will thank you forever, and with cause. I will requite Hagen’s insolence to the full. Let not one of them forth at any point, and I will let kindle the hall at its four sides. So will my heart’s dole be avenged.”

Etzel’s knights were not loth. With darts and with blows they drave back into the house them that stood without. Loud was the din; but the princes and their men were not parted, nor failed they in faith to one another.

Etzel’s wife bade the hall be kindled, and they tormented the bodies of the heroes with fire. The wind blew, and the house was soon all aflame. Folk never suffered worse, I ween. There were many that cried, “Woe is me for this pain! Liefer had we died in battle. God pity us, for we are all lost. The queen taketh bitter vengeance.”

One among them wailed, “We perish by the smoke and the fire. Grim is our torment. The stark heat maketh me so athirst, that I die.”

Said Hagen of Trony, “Ye noble knights and good, let any that are athirst drink the blood. In this heat it is better than wine, and there is naught sweeter here.”

Then went one where he found a dead body. He knelt by the wounds, and did off his helmet, and began to drink the streaming blood. Albeit he was little used thereto, he deemed it right good. “God quit thee, Sir Hagen!” said the weary man, “I have learned a good drink. Never did I taste better wine. If I live, I will thank thee.”

When the others heard his praise, many more of them drank the blood, and their bodies were strengthened, for the which many a noble woman paid through her dear ones.

The fire-flakes fell down on them in the hall, but they warded them off with their shields. Both the smoke and the fire tormented them. Never before suffered heroes such sore pain.

Then said Hagen of Trony, “Stand fast by the wall. Let not the brands fall on your helmets. Trample them with your feet deeper in the blood. A woeful hightide is the queen’s.”

The night ended at last. The bold gleeman, and Hagen, his comrade, stood before the house and leaned upon their shields. They waited for further hurt from Etzel’s knights. It advantaged the strangers much that the roof was vaulted. By reason thereof more were left alive. Albeit they at the windows suffered scathe, they bared them valiantly, as their bold hearts bade them.

Then said the fiddler, “Go we now into the hall, that the Huns deem we be all dead from this torment, albeit some among them shall yet feel our might.”

Giselher, the youth, of Burgundy, said, “It is daybreak, I ween. A cool wind bloweth. God grant we may see happier days. My sister Kriemhild hath bidden us to a doleful hightide.”

One of them spake, “I see the dawn. Since we can do no better, arm you, ye knights, for battle, that, come we never hence, we may die with honour.”

Etzel deemed the guests were all dead of their travail and the stress of the fire. But six hundred bold men yet lived. Never king had better knights. They that kept ward over the strangers had seen that some were left, albeit the princes and their men had suffered loss and dole. They saw many that walked up and down in the house.

They told Kriemhild that many were left alive, but the queen answered, “It cannot be. None could live in that fire. I trow they all lie dead.”

The kings and their men had still gladly asked for mercy, had there been any to show it. But there was none in the whole country of the Huns. Wherefore they avenged their death with willing hand.

They were greeted early in the morning with a fierce onslaught, and came in great scathe. Stark spears were hurled at them. Well the knights within stood on their defence.

Etzel’s men were the bolder, that they might win Kriemhild’s fee. Thereto, they obeyed the king gladly; but soon they looked on death.

One might tell marvels of her gifts and promises. She bade them bear forth red gold upon shields, and gave thereof to all that desired it, or would take it. So great treasure was never given against foemen.

The host of warriors came armed to the hall. The fiddler said, “We are here. I never was gladder to see any knights than those that have taken the king’s gold to our hurt.”

Not a few of them cried out, “Come nigher, ye heroes! Do your worst, and make an end quickly, for here are none but must die.”

Soon their bucklers were filled full of darts. What shall I say more? Twelve hundred warriors strove once and again to win entrance. The guests cooled their hardihood with wounds. None could part the strife. The blood flowed from death-deep wounds. Many were slain. Each bewailed some friend. All Etzel’s worthy knights perished. Their kinsmen sorrowed bitterly.

Thirty-Seventh Adventure How Rudeger Was Slain

The strangers did valiantly that morning. Gotelind’s husband came into the courtyard and saw the heavy loss on both sides, whereat the true man wept inly.

“Woe is me,” said the knight, “that ever I was born, since none can stop this strife! Fain would I have them at one again, but the king holdeth back, for he seeth always more done to his hurt.”

Good Rudeger sent to Dietrich, that they might seek to move the great king. But the knight of Bern sent back answer, “Who can hinder it? King Etzel letteth none intercede.”

A knight of the Huns, that had oft seen Rudeger standing with wet eyes, said to the queen, “Look how he standeth yonder, that Etzel hath raised above all others, and that hath land and folk at his service. Why hath Rudeger so many castles from the king? He hath struck no blow in this battle. I ween he careth little for our scathe, so long as he hath enow for himself. They say he is bolder than any other. Ill hath he shown it in our need.”

The faithful man, when he heard that word, looked angrily at the knight. He thought, “Thou shalt pay for this. Thou callest me a coward. Thou hast told thy tale too loud at court.”

He clenched his fist, and ran at him, and smote the Hun so fiercely that he fell down at his feet, dead. Whereat Etzel’s grief waxed anew.

“Away with thee, false babbler!” cried Rudeger. “I had trouble and sorrow enow. What was it to thee that I fought not? Good cause have I also to hate the strangers, and had done what I could against them, but that I brought them hither. I was their escort into my master’s land, and may not lift my wretched hand against them.”

Then said Etzel, the great king, to the Margrave, “How hast thou helped us, most noble Rudeger? We had dead men enow in the land, and needed no more. Evilly hast thou done.”

But the knight answered, “He angered me, and twitted me with the honour and the wealth thou hast bestowed on me so plenteously. It hath cost the liar dear.”

Then came the queen, that had seen the Hun perish by Rudeger’s wrath. She mourned for him with wet eyes, and said to Rudeger, “What have we ever done to thee that thou shouldst add to our sorrow? Thou hast oft times promised, noble Rudeger, that thou wouldst risk, for our sake, both honour and life, and I have heard many warriors praise thee for thy valour. Hast thou forgotten the oath thou swearest to me with thy hand, good knight, when thou didst woo me for King Etzel—how that thou wouldst serve me till my life’s end, or till thine? Never was my need greater than now.”

“It is true, noble lady. I promised to risk for thee honour and life, but I sware not to lose my soul. I brought the princes to this hightide.”

She said, “Remember, Rudeger, thy faith, and thine oath to avenge all my hurt and my woe.”

The Margrave answered, “I have never said thee nay.”

Etzel began to entreat likewise. They fell at his feet. Sore troubled was the good Margrave. Full of grief, he cried, “Woe is me that ever I saw this hour, for God hath forsaken me. All my duty to Heaven, mine honour, my good faith, my knightliness, I must forego. God above have pity, and let me die! Whether I do this thing, or do it not, I sin. And if I take the part of neither, all the world will blame me. Let Him that made me guide me.”

Still the king and his wife implored him. Whence it fell that many valiant warriors lost their lives at his hand, and the hero himself was slain. Hear ye now the tale of his sorrow. Well he knew he could win naught but teen and scathe. Fain had he denied the prayer of the king and queen. He feared, if he slew but one man, that the world would loathe him evermore.

Then the bold man said to the king, “Take back what thou hast given me—castles and land. Leave me nothing at all. I will go forth afoot into exile. I will take my wife and my daughter by the hand, and I will quit thy country empty, rather than I will die dishonoured. I took thy red gold to my hurt.”

King Etzel answered, “Who will help me then? Land and folk I gave to thee, Rudeger, that thou mightest avenge me on my foes. Thou shalt rule with Etzel as a great king.”

But Rudeger said, “How can I do it? I bade them to my house and home; I set meat and drink before them, and gave them my gifts. Shall I also smite them dead? The folk may deem me a coward. But I have always served them well. Should I fight with them now, it were ill done. Deep must I rue past friendship. I gave my daughter to Giselher. None better in this world had she found, of so great lineage and honour, and faith, and wealth. Never saw I young king so virtuous.”

But Kriemhild answered, “Most noble Rudeger, take pity on us both. Bethink thee that never host had guests like these.”

Then said the Margrave, “What thou and my master have given me I must pay for, this day, with my life. I shall die, and that quickly. Well I know that, or nightfall, my lands and castles will return to your keeping. To your grace I commend my wife and my child, and the homeless ones that are at Bechlaren.”

“God reward thee, Rudeger,” cried the king. He and the queen were both glad. “Thy folk shall be well seen to; but thou thyself, I trow, will come off scatheless.”

So he put his soul and body on the hazard. Etzel’s wife began to weep. He said, “I must keep my vow to thee. Woe is me for my friends, that I must fall upon in mine own despite!”

They saw him turn heavily from the king. To his knights that stood close by, he said, “Arm ye, my men all. For I must fight the Burgundians, to my sorrow.”

The heroes called for their harness, and the attendants brought helm and buckler. Soon the proud strangers heard the sad news.

Rudeger stood armed with five hundred men, and twelve knights that went with him, to win worship in the fray. They knew not that death was so near.

Rudeger went forth with his helmet on; his men carried sharp swords, and, thereto, broad shields and bright. The fiddler saw this, and was dismayed. But when Giselher beheld his father-in-law with his helmet on, he weened that he meant them well. The noble king was right glad. “Well for me that I have such friends,” cried Giselher, “as these we won by the way! For my wife’s sake he will save us. By my faith, I am glad to be wed.”

“Thy trust is vain,” said the fiddler. “When ever did ye see so many knights come in peace, with helmets laced on, and with swords? Rudeger cometh to serve for his castles and his lands.”

Or the fiddler had made an end of speaking, Rudeger, the noble man, stood before the house. He laid his good shield before his feet. He must needs deny greeting to his friends.

Then the Margrave shouted into the hall, “Stand on your defence, ye bold Nibelungs. I would have helped you, but must slay you. Once we were friends, but I cannot keep my faith.”

The sore-tired men were dismayed at this word. Their comfort was gone, for he that they loved was come against them. From their foemen they had suffered enow.

“God in Heaven forbid,” said Gunther the knight, “that thou shouldst be false to the friendship and the faith wherein we trusted. It cannot be.”

“I cannot help it,” said Rudeger. “I must fight with you, for I have vowed it. As ye love your lives, bold warriors, ward you well. King Etzel’s wife will have it so.”

“Thou turnest too late,” said the king. “God reward thee, noble Rudeger, for the truth and the love thou hast shown us, if it endure but to the end. We shall ever thank and serve thee for the rich gifts thou gavest to me and my kinsmen, when thou broughtest us with true heart into Etzel’s land: so thou let us live. Think well thereon, noble Rudeger.”

“Gladly would I grant it,” said the knight. “Might I but give thee freely, as I would, with none to chide me!”

“Give that no thought,” said Gernot. “Never host entreated guests so kindly as thou us; the which will advantage thee if we live.”

“Would to God, noble Gernot,” cried Rudeger, “that ye were at the Rhine, and I dead with honour, since I must fight with you! Never strangers were worse entreated by friends.”

“God reward thee, Sir Rudeger,” answered Gernot, “for thy rich gifts. I should rue thy death, for in thee a virtuous man would fall. Behold, good knight, the sword thou gavest, in my hand. It hath never failed me in my need. Its edge hath killed many a warrior. It is finely tempered and stark, and thereto bright and good. So goodly a gift, I ween, never knight will give more. If thou forbear not, but fall upon us, and slay any of my kinsmen here, thou shalt perish by thine own sword! Much I pity thee and thy wife.”

“Would to God, Sir Gernot, thou hadst thy will, and thy friends were out of peril! To thee I would entrust wife and daughter.”

Then said the youngest of fair Uta’s sons, “How canst thou do this thing, Sir Rudeger? All that came hither with me are thy friends. A vile deed is this. Thou makest thy daughter too soon a widow. If thou and thy knights defy us, ill am I apayed, that I trusted thee before all other men, when I won thy daughter for my wife.”

“Forget not thy troth, noble king, if God send thee hence,” answered Rudeger. “Let not the maiden suffer for my sin. By thine own princely virtue, withdraw not thy favour from her.”

“Fain would I promise it,” said Giselher the youth. “Yet if my high-born kinsmen perish here by thy hand, my love for thee and thy daughter must perish also.”

“Then God have mercy!” cried the brave man; whereat he lifted his shield, and would have fallen upon the guests in Kriemhild’s hall.

But Hagen called out to him from the stairhead, “Tarry awhile, noble Rudeger. Let me and my masters speak with thee yet awhile in our need. What shall it profit Etzel if we knights die in a strange land? I am in evil case,” said Hagen. “The shield that Gotelind gave me to carry, the Huns have hewn from my hand. In good faith I bore it hither. Would to God I had such a shield as thou hast, noble Rudeger! A better I would not ask for in the battle.”

“I would gladly give thee my shield, durst I offer it before Kriemhild. Yet take it, Hagen, and wear it. Ha! mightest thou but win with it to Burgundy!”

When they saw him give the shield so readily, there were eyes enow red with hot tears. It was the last gift that Rudeger of Bechlaren ever gave.

Albeit Hagen was grim and stern, he was melted by the gift that the good knight, so nigh to his end, had given him. And many a warrior mourned with him.

“Now God reward thee, noble Rudeger; there will never be thy like again for giving freely to homeless knights. May the fame of thy charity live for ever. Sad news hast thou brought me. We had trouble enow. God pity us if we must fight with friends.”

The Margrave answered, “Thou grievest not more than I.”

“I will requite thee for thy gift, brave Rudeger. Whatever betide thee from these knights, my hand will not touch thee—not if thou slewest every man of Burgundy.”

Rudeger bowed, and thanked him. All the folk wept. Sore pity it was that none could stay the strife. The father of all virtue lay dead in Rudeger.

Then Folker the fiddler went to the door and said, “Since my comrade Hagen hath sworn peace, thou shalt have it also from my hand. Well didst thou earn it when we came first into this country. Noble Margrave, be my envoy. The Margravine gave me these red bracelets to wear at the hightide. See them now, and bear witness that I did it.”

“Would to God that the Margravine might give thee more! Doubt not but I shall tell my dear one, if I ever see her alive.”

When he had promised that, Rudeger lifted up his shield; he waxed fierce, and tarried no longer. Like a knight he fell upon the guests. Many a swift blow he smote. Folker and Hagen stood back, for they had vowed it. But so many bold men stood by the door that Rudeger came in great scathe.

Athirst for blood, Gunther and Gernot let him pass in. Certes, they were heroes. Giselher drew back sorrowing. He hoped to live yet awhile; wherefore he avoided Rudeger in the strife.

Then the Margrave’s men ran at their foemen, and followed their master like good knights. They carried sharp weapons, wherewith they clove many a helmet and buckler. The weary ones answered the men of Bechlaren with swift blows that pierced deep and straight through their harness to their life’s blood. They did wonderly in the battle.

All the warriors were now in the hall. Folker and Hagen fell on them, for they had sworn to spare none save the one man. Their hands struck blood from the helmets. Right grim was the clash of swords! Many a shield-plate sprang in sunder, and the precious stones were scattered among the blood. So fiercely none will fight again. The prince of Bechlaren hewed a path right and left, as one acquainted with battle. Well did Rudeger approve him that day a bold and blameless knight. Gunther and Gernot smote many heroes dead. Giselher and Dankwart laid about them, fearing naught, and sent many a man to his doom.

Rudeger approved him stark enow, bold and well armed. Ha! many a knight he slew! One of the Burgundians saw this, and was wroth; whereat Rudeger’s death drew nigh.

Gernot cried out to the Margrave, “Noble Rudeger; thou leavest none of my men alive. It irketh me sore; I will bear it no longer. I will turn thy gift against thee, for thou hast taken many friends from me. Come hither, thou bold man. What thou gavest me I will earn to the uttermost.”

Or the Margrave had fought his way to him, bright bucklers grew dim with blood. Then, greedy of fame, the men ran at each other, and began to ward off the deadly wounds. But their swords were so sharp that nothing could withstand them. Rudeger the knight smote Gernot through his flint-hard helmet, that the blood brake out. Soon the good warrior was avenged. He swung Rudeger’s gift on high, and, albeit he was wounded to the death, he smote him through his good shield and his helmet, that Gotelind’s husband died. So rich a gift was never worse requited. So they fell in the strife—Gernot and Rudeger—slain by each other’s hand.

Thereat Hagen waxed grimmer than afore. The hero of Trony said, “Great woe is ours. None can ever make good to their folk and their land the loss of these two knights. Rudeger’s men shall pay for it.” They gave no quarter. Many were struck down unwounded that had come to, but that they were drowned in the blood.

“Woe is me for my brother, fallen dead! Each hour bringeth fresh dole. For my father-in-law, Rudeger, I grieve also. Twofold is my loss and my sorrow.”

When Giselher saw his brother slain, they that were in the hall suffered for it. Death lagged not behind. Of the men of Bechlaren there was left not a living soul.

Gunther and Giselher, and eke Hagen, Dankwart and Folker, the good knights, went where the two warriors lay, and there the heroes wept piteously.

“Death hath despoiled us sore,” said Giselher the youth. “Stop your weeping, and go out to the air, that we strife-weary ones may cool our harness. God will not let us live longer, I ween.”

They that were without saw them sitting, or leaning and taking their rest. Rudeger’s men were all slain; the din was hushed. The silence endured so long that Etzel was angered, and the king’s wife cried, “Woe is me for this treason. They speak too long. The bodies of our foemen are left unscathed by Rudeger’s hand. He plotteth to guide them back to Burgundy. What doth it profit us, King Etzel, that we have shared all our wealth with him? The knight hath done falsely. He that should have avenged us cometh to terms with them.”

But Folker, the valiant warrior, answered her, “Alack! it is not so, noble queen. If I might give the lie to one so high-born as thou art, thou hast foully slandered Rudeger. Sorry terms have he and his knights made with us. With such good will he did the king’s bidding, that he and his men all lie dead. Look round thee for another, Kriemhild, to obey thee. Rudeger served thee till his death. If thou doubtest, thou mayest see for thyself.”

To her grief they did it. They brought the mangled hero where Etzel saw him. Never were Etzel’s knights so doleful. When the dead Margrave was held up before them, none could write or tell all the bitter wailing whereby women and men alike uttered their heart’s dole. Etzel’s woe was so great that the sound of his lamentation was as a lion’s roar. Loud wept his wife. They mourned good Rudeger bitterly.

Thirty-Eighth Adventure How Dietrich’s Knights Were All Slain

So loud they wept on all sides, that palace and towers echoed with the sound. One of Dietrich’s men of Bern heard it, and hasted with the news.

He said to the prince, “Hearken, Sir Dietrich. Never in my life heard I such wail as this. Methinketh the king himself hath joined the hightide. How else should all the folk make such dole. Either the king or Kriemhild—one of them at the least—have the guests killed through hate. The valiant warriors weep bitterly.”

The prince of Bern answered, “Judge not so hastily, my good men. What the stranger knights have done, sore peril hath constrained them to. Let it boot them now that I sware peace to them.”

But bold Wolfhart said, “I will go and ask what they have done, and will tell thee, dear master, when I know the truth.”

Sir Dietrich answered, “When a knight is wroth, if one question him roughly, his anger is soon kindled. I would not have thee meddle therein, Wolfhart.”

He bade Helfrich haste thither, and find out from Etzel’s men, or from the guests, what had happed, for he had never heard folk wail so loud.

The messenger asked, “What aileth you all?”

One among them answered, “Joy is fled from the land of the Huns. Rudeger lieth slain by the men of Burgundy. Of them that entered in with him, not one is left alive.”

Helfrich was sore grieved. He had never told so sad a tale, and went back weeping.

“What news?” cried Dietrich. “Why weepest thou so bitterly, Sir Helfrich?”

The knight answered, “I may well mourn. The Burgundians have slain Rudeger.”

But the prince of Bern said, “God forbid! That were stark vengeance and devil’s sport. What had Rudeger done to deserve it? Well I know he was their friend.”

Wolfhart answered, “If they have done this, their life shall pay for it. It were shameful to endure it. For oft hath Rudeger’s hand served us.”

The prince of Amelung bade them inquire further. He sat down at a window sore troubled, and bade Hildebrand go to the guests, and ask them what had happened.

Master Hildebrand, bold in strife, took with him neither shield nor sword, and would have gone to them on peaceful wise. But his sister’s child chid him. Grim Wolfhart cried, “Why goest thou naked? If they revile thee, thou wilt have the worst of the quarrel, and return shamed. If thou goest armed, none will withstand thee.”

The old man armed him as the youth had counselled. Or he had ended, all Dietrich’s knights stood in their harness, sword in hand. It irked the warrior, and he had gladly turned them from their purpose. He asked their intent.

“We would follow thee,” they answered. “What if Hagen of Trony, as his wont is, mock thee?” Whereupon Hildebrand consented.

When bold Folker saw the knights of Bern, Dietrich’s men, girt with swords, and coming armed, with shields in their hands, he told his masters of Burgundy. He said, “Dietrich’s men draw nigh like foemen, armed, and in helmets. They come to defy us. I ween it will go hard with us forlorn ones.”

Hildebrand came up while he spake. He laid his shield at his feet, and said to Gunther’s men, “Alack! ye good knights! What have ye done to Rudeger? Dietrich, my master, sent me hither to ask if any here slew the good Margrave, as they tell us. We could ill endure such loss.”

Hagen of Trony answered, “The news is true. Glad were I had the messenger lied to thee, for Rudeger’s sake, and that he lived still. Both men and women must evermore bewail him.”

When they heard he was dead in sooth, all the warriors wept, as was meet. Down beard and chin ran the tears of Dietrich’s men. Right heavy were they and doleful.

A duke of Bern that hight Siegstab, cried, “Now is ended all the loving kindness wherewith Rudeger cheered our sad days. Ye have slain, in Rudeger, the friend of all homeless knights.”

Sir Wolfwine of Amelung said, “I had not grieved more this day to see my father dead. Woe is me! Who will comfort the good Margravine?”

Sir Wolfhart cried angrily, “Who will lead the warriors forth to battle now, as Rudeger so oft hath done. Woe is me for brave Rudeger! We have lost him!”

Wolfbrand and Helfrich and eke Helmnot wept for his death with all their friends. Hildebrand could ask no more for grief. He said, “Grant now, ye warriors, that for which my master sent me. Give us dead Rudeger from out the hall, with whom all our joy hath perished, and let us requite him for all the kindness he hath shown to us and many another. Like him we are homeless. Why tarry ye? Let us bear him hence, and serve him dead, as we had gladly served him living.”

Then said King Gunther, “No service is better than that of friends to a dead friend. I approve the true heart of him that doeth it. Ye have cause to praise him. He hath shown you much love.”

“How long shall we entreat?” cried Wolfhart. “Sith ye have slain our joy, and we can have him no more, let us bear him hence to bury him.”

But Folker answered, “Ye shall get him from none here. Come and take him out of the house, where he lieth with his death-wounds in the blood. So shall ye serve Rudeger truly.”

Cried bold Wolfhart, “God knoweth, sir fiddler, thou dost wrong to provoke us further; thou hast done us hurt enow. If I dared before my master, it would go hard with thee. We may not fight; he hath forbidden it.”

The fiddler said, “He that avoideth all that is forbidden is over fearful. He hath not the right hero’s heart.”

Hagen approved the word of his comrade. But Wolfhart cried, “Give over mocking, or I will put thy fiddle-strings out of tune, that thou mayest have somewhat to tell, if ever thou ridest again to Burgundy. I can no longer, with honour, endure thine insolence.”

The fiddler answered, “If thou spoilest my strings, my hand will dim thy helmet afore I ride back to Burgundy.”

Wolfhart would have run at him, but his uncle, Hildebrand, held him fast and would not let him. “Thou art mad in thy foolish wrath. We should come in disgrace forever with my master.”

“Let loose the lion that is so grim, sir knight. But if he fall into my hand,” said Folker, “I will slay him, though he had laid the whole world dead. There will be an end of his hot answers.”

Wolfhart fell in a fury thereat. He lifted his shield and sprang at him like a wild lion. His friends followed after. But, quick though he was, old Hildebrand came before any to the stair-way, that he might not be second in the fight. They found plenty to meet them among the strangers.

Hagen leapt upon Master Hildebrand. The weapons rang loud in their hands, for it was well seen they were wroth. A fire-red wind blew from their swords. But they were parted in the fray by the knights of Bern, that pressed in amain. So Master Hildebrand turned away from Hagen.

Stark Wolfhart ran at Folker. He smote the fiddler on his helmet, that the sword’s edge cut into the beaver. The bold fiddler struck him such a blow that the sparks flew from his harness. Deadly was their hate. Then Sir Wolfwine parted them. If he was not a hero, there never was one. Gunther, the noble king, met the famed Amelung knights with ready hand. Sir Giselher made many a polished helmet red and wet with blood. Dankwart, Hagen’s brother, was a grim man. All that he ha done afore to Etzel’s warriors was but a wind to what he did now; fell and furious was Aldrian’s child. Ritschart and Gerbart, Helfrich and Wichart, had never spared themselves in battle, the which they let Gunther’s men see. Wolfbrand was undaunted in the strife. Old Hildebrand fought as he were mad. Many a good knight fell dead in the blood before the sword of Wolfhart. Rudeger was well avenged. Sir Siegstab did right valiantly. Ha! how many hard helmets Dietrich’s sister’s son brake to his foemen. Bolder in battle he could not have been.

When stark Folker saw that Siegstab struck blood from the hauberks, he was wroth, and leapt upon him and slew him. Such proof of his skill gave the fiddler that Siegstab died.

Hildebrand avenged him as beseemed his might. “Woe is me for my dear lord, that lieth slain by Folker’s hand! Bitterly shall the fiddler pay for it.” Certes, Hildebrand was grim enow. He smote Folker, that the gleeman’s shield and helmet flew in splinters across the hall. That was an end of stark Folker.

Then Dietrich’s men rushed in from all sides. They smote till the links of their foemen’s mail whistled asunder, and their broken sword-points flew on high. They struck hot-flowing streams from the helmets.

When Hagen of Trony saw Folker dead, he grieved more bitterly than he had done yet, all the hightide, for kinsman or vassal. Alack! how grimly he began to avenge him!

“Old Hildebrand shall not go scatheless, for his hand hath slain my friend, the best comrade I ever had.”

He raised his shield, and hewed his way right and left.

Helfrich slew stark Dankwart. Doleful enow were Gunther and Giselher when they saw him fall in his bitter pains. Yet he had well avenged his death with his own hand.

Albeit many mighty princes of many lands were gathered there against the little band, their prowess had brought them forth alive, had not the Christian folk turned foemen.

Meantime, Wolfhart went to and fro, and hewed down Gunther’s men. He cut his way round the hall thrice. Many a knight fell before him.

Then cried stark Giselher to Wolfhart, “Woe is me, that I have so grim a foe! Come hither, bold warrior, and I will make an end of this. Longer it shall not endure.”

Wolfhart turned to Giselher in the strife. They gave one another wide wounds. So fiercely Wolfhart sprang at him that the blood under his feet spurted over his head.

Fair Uta’s child welcomed Wolfhart, the bold knight, with swift blows. Albeit the warrior was mighty, he perished. Never king so young was so valiant. He smote Wolfhart through his goodly harness, that blood flowed down from the gash: he wounded Dietrich’s man to the death. None save a hero had done it.

When Wolfhart felt the sword-cut, he threw away his shield, and lifted a mighty and sharp weapon, wherewith, through helmet and harness, he slew Giselher. They gave each other a grim death, for Dietrich’s man fell likewise.

Old Hildebrand grieved sore when he saw Wolfhart fall. All Gunther’s men and Dietrich’s were dead, and he went where Wolfhart lay in the blood, and put his arm round him to bear him away out of the house. But he was too heavy, so he must needs let him lie. Then the deadly wounded man looked up from among the blood, and saw that his uncle would have helped him, and he said, “Dearest uncle, no help availeth me. Thou didest better to beware of Hagen, for grim and fell is his heart. And if my kinsmen, my nearest and my best, mourn for me hereafter, say that they weep without cause, for that I died gloriously by the hand of a king. In the fight I have so well avenged me that many a warrior’s wife shall wail. If any question thee, tell him straight that, with my single hand, I slew an hundred.”

Then Hagen thought on the fiddler that old Hildebrand had slain, and he said to the knight, “Thou shalt pay for my teen. Thou hast robbed us of many a good warrior.” He smote Hildebrand, that Balmung, the sword he had taken from Siegfried when he slew him, rang loud. But the old man stood boldly on his defence. He brought his sharp-edged sword down on Hagen, but could not wound him. Then Hagen pierced him through his good harness.

When Master Hildebrand felt the wound, he feared more scathe from Hagen, so he threw his shield over his back and fled.

Now, of all the knights, none were left alive save two, Gunther and Hagen.

Old Hildebrand, covered with blood, ran with the news to Dietrich, that he saw sitting sadly where he had left him. Soon the prince had more cause for woe. When he saw Hildebrand in his bloody harness, he asked fearfully for his tale. “Now tell me, Master Hildebrand, why thou art so wet with thy life’s blood? Who did it? I ween thou hast fought with the guests in the hall, albeit I so sternly forbade it. Thou hadst better have forborne.”

Hildebrand answered his master, “Hagen did it. He gave me this wound in the hall when I turned to flee from him. I scarce escaped the devil with my life.”

Said the prince of Bern, “Thou art rightly served. Thou heardest me vow friendship to the knights, and thou hast broken the peace I gave them. Were it not that I shame me to slay thee, thy life were forfeit.”

“Be not so wroth, my lord Dietrich. Enough woe hath befallen me and mine. We would have borne away Rudeger’s body, but Gunther’s men denied it.”

“Woe is me for this wrong! Is Rudeger then dead? That is the bitterest of my dole. Noble Gotelind is my cousin’s child. Alack! The poor orphans of Bechlaren!” With ruth and sorrow he wept for Rudeger. “Woe is me for the true comrade I have lost. I must mourn Etzel’s liegeman forever. Canst thou tell me, Master Hildebrand, who slew him?”

Hildebrand answered, “It was stark Gernot, but the hero fell by Rudeger’s hand.”

Said Dietrich, “Bid my men arm them, for I will thither straightway. Send me my shining harness. I, myself, will question the knights of Burgundy.”

But Master Hildebrand answered, “Who is there to call? Thy sole living liegeman standeth here. I am the only one. The rest are dead.”

Dietrich trembled at the news, and was passing doleful, for never in this world had he known such woe. He cried, “Are all my men slain? then God hath forgotten poor Dietrich! I was a great king, rich and proud. Yet how could they all die, these valiant heroes, by foemen so battle-weary and sore beset? Death had spared them, but that I am doomed to sorrow. Since this hard fate is needs mine, tell me if any of the guests be left alive.”

Hildebrand answered, “None save Hagen, and Gunther, the king. God knoweth I say sooth.”

“Woe is me, dear Wolfhart, if I have lost thee! It were better I had never been born. Siegstab and Wolfwine and Wolfbrand: who is there then left to help me in the land of the Amelungs? Is bold Gelfrich slain also? And Gerbart and Wichart? When shall I have done weeping? This day hath ended all my joy. Alack! that none may die of grief!”

Thirty-Ninth Adventure How Gunther, Hagen, and Kriemhild Were Slain

Thereupon Sir Dietrich went and got his harness himself. Old Hildebrand helped to arm him. The strong man wept so loud that the house rang with his voice. But soon he was of stout heart again, as beseemed a hero. He did on his armour in wrath. He took a fine-tempered shield in his hand, and they hasted to the place—he and Master Hildebrand.

Then said Hagen of Trony, “I see Sir Dietrich yonder. He cometh to avenge his great loss. This day will show which of us twain is the better man. Howso stark of body and grim Sir Dietrich may deem him, I doubt not but I shall stand against him, if he seek vengeance.” So spake Hagen.

Dietrich, that was with Hildebrand, heard him. He came where both the knights stood outside the house, leaning against the wall. Good Dietrich laid down his shield, and, moved with deep woe, he said, “Why hast thou so entreated a homeless knight? What had I done to thee? Thou hast ended all my joy. Thou deemedst it too little to have slain Rudeger to our scathe; now thou hast robbed me of all my men. I had never done the like to you, O knights. Think on yourselves and your loss—the death of your friends, and your travail. By reason thereof are ye not heavy of your cheer? Alack! how bitter to me is Rudeger’s death! There was never such woe in this world. Ye have done evilly by me and by yourselves. All the joy I had ye have slain. How shall I ever mourn enough for all my kinsmen?”

“We are not alone to blame,” answered Hagen. “Your knights came hither armed and ready, with a great host. Methinketh the tale hath not been told thee aright.”

“What shall I believe then? Hildebrand said that when my knights of Amelung begged you to give them Rudeger’s body, ye answered mockingly, as they stood below.”

Then said the prince of the Rhineland. “They told me they were come to bear Rudeger hence. I denied them, not to anger thy men, but to grieve Etzel withal. Whereat Wolfhart flew in a passion.”

Said the prince of Bern, “There is nothing for it. Of thy knightliness, atone to me for the wrong thou hast done me, and I will avenge it no further. Yield thee captive, thee and thy man, and I will defend thee to the uttermost against the wrath of the Huns. Thou wilt find me faithful and true.”

“God in Heaven forbid,” cried Hagen, “that two knights, armed as we are for battle, should yield them to thee! I would hold it a great shame, and ill done.”

“Deny me not,” said Dietrich. “Ye have made me heavy-hearted enow, O Gunther and Hagen; and it is no more than just, that ye make it good. I swear to you, and give you my hand thereon, that I will ride back with you to your own country. I will bring you safely thither, or die with you, and forget my great wrong for your sakes.”

“Ask us no more,” said Hagen. “It were a shameful tale to tell of us, that two such bold men yielded them captive. I see none save Hildebrand by thy side.”

Hildebrand answered, “Ye would do well to take my master’s terms; the hour will come, or long, when ye would gladly take them, but may not have them.”

“Certes, I had liefer do it,” said Hagen, “than flee mine adversary like a coward, as thou didst, Master Hildebrand. By my troth, I deemed thou hadst withstood a foeman better.”

Cried Hildebrand, “Thou needest not to twit me. Who was it that, by the wask-stone, sat upon his shield when Walter of Spain slew so many of his kinsmen? Thou, thyself, art not void of blame.”

Said Sir Dietrich then, “It beseemeth not warriors to fight with words like old women. I forbid thee, Master Hildebrand, to say more. Homeless knight that I am, I have grief enow. Tell me now, Sir Hagen, what ye good knights said when ye saw me coming armed. Was it not that thou alone wouldst defy me?”

“Thou hast guessed rightly,” answered Hagen. “I am ready to prove it with swift blows, if my Nibelung sword break not. I am wroth that ye would have had us yield us captive.”

When Dietrich heard grim Hagen’s mind, he caught up his shield, and sprang up the steps. The Nibelung sword rang loud on his mail. Sir Dietrich knew well that the bold man was fierce. The prince of Bern warded off the strokes. He needed not to learn that Hagen was a valiant knight. Thereto, he feared stark Balmung. But ever and anon he struck out warily, till he had overcome Hagen in the strife. He gave him a wound that was deep and wide. Then thought Sir Dietrich, “Thy long travail hath made thee weak. I had little honour in thy death. Liefer will I take thee captive.” Not lightly did he prevail. He threw down his shield. He was stark and bold, and he caught Hagen of Trony in his arms. So the valiant man was vanquished. King Gunther grieved sore.

Dietrich bound Hagen, and led him to the queen, and delivered into her hand the boldest knight that ever bare a sword. After her bitter dole, she was glad enow. She bowed before the knight for joy. “Blest be thou in soul and body. Thou hast made good to me all my woe. I will thank thee till my dying day.”

Then said Dietrich, “Let him live, noble queen. His service may yet atone to thee for what he hath done to thy hurt. Take not vengeance on him for that he is bound.”

She bade them lead Hagen to a dungeon. There he lay locked up, and none saw him.

Then King Gunther called aloud, “Where is the hero of Bern? He hath done me a grievous wrong.”

Sir Dietrich went to meet him. Gunther was a man of might. He tarried not, but ran toward him from the hall. Loud was the din of their swords.

Howso famed Dietrich was from aforetime, Gunther was so wroth and so fell, and so bitterly his foeman, by reason of the wrong he had endured, that it was a marvel Sir Dietrich came off alive. They were stark and mighty men both. Palace and towers echoed with their blows, as their swift swords hewed their good helmets. A high-hearted king was Gunther.

But the knight of Bern overcame him, as he had done Hagen. His blood gushed from his harness by reason of the good sword that Dietrich carried. Yet Gunther had defended him well, for all he was so weary.

The knight was bound by Dietrich’s hand, albeit a king should never wear such bonds. Dietrich deemed, if he left Gunther and his man free, they would kill all they met.

He took him by the hand, and let him before Kriemhild. Her sorrow was lighter when she saw him. She said, “Thou art welcome, King Gunther.”

He answered, “I would thank thee, dear sister, if thy greeting were in love. But I know thy fierce mind, and that thou mockest me and Hagen.”

Then said the prince of Bern, “Most high queen, there were never nobler captives than these I have delivered here into thy hands. Let the homeless knights live for my sake.”

She promised him she would do it gladly, and good Dietrich went forth weeping. Yet soon Etzel’s wife took grim vengeance, by reason whereof both the valiant men perished. She kept them in dungeons, apart, that neither saw the other again till she bore her brother’s head to Hagen. Certes, Kriemhild’s vengeance was bitter.

The queen went to Hagen, and spake angrily to the knight. “Give me back what thou hast taken from me, and ye may both win back alive to Burgundy.”

But grim Hagen answered, “Thy words are wasted, noble queen. I have sworn to show the hoard to none. While one of my masters liveth, none other shall have it.”

“I will end the matter,” said the queen. Then she bade them slay her brother, and they smote off his head. She carried it by the hair to the knight of Trony. He was grieved enow.

When the sorrowful man saw his master’s head, he cried to Kriemhild, “Thou hast wrought all thy will. It hath fallen out as I deemed it must. The noble King of Burgundy is dead, and Giselher the youth, and eke Gernot. None knoweth of the treasure now save God and me. Thou shalt never see it, devil that thou art.”

She said, “I come off ill in the reckoning. I will keep Siegfried’s sword at the least. My true love wore it when I saw him last. My bitterest heart’s dole was for him.”

She drew it from the sheath. He could not hinder it. She purposed to slay the knight. She lifted it high with both hands, and smote off his head.

King Etzel saw it, and sorrowed. “Alack!” cried the king, “The best warrior that ever rode to battle, or bore a shield, hath fallen by the hand of a woman! Albeit I was his foeman, I must grieve.”

Then said Master Hildebrand, “His death shall not profit her. I care not what come of it. Though I came in scathe by him myself, I will avenge the death of the bold knight of Trony.”

Hildebrand sprang fiercely at Kriemhild, and slew her with his sword. She suffered sore by his anger. Her loud cry helped her not.

Dead bodies lay stretched all over. The queen was hewn in pieces. Etzel and Dietrich began to weep. They wailed piteously for kinsmen and vassals. Mickle valour lay there slain. The folk were doleful and dreary.

The end of the king’s hightide was woe, even as, at the last, all joy turneth to sorrow.

I know not what fell after. Christian and heathen, wife, man, and maid, were seen weeping and mourning for their friends.

I WILL TELL YOU NO MORE. LET THE DEAD LIE. HOWEVER IT FARED AFTER WITH THE HUNS, MY TALE IS ENDED. THIS IS THE FALL OF THE NIBELUNGS.