Part 26

So the knights at the prayer of Gunther, at the warrior king's behest, Let sink their swords, and the fury of fight for a space had rest. By that sudden peace did Gunther his power unto all men show: Then straightway he asked of Dietrich wherefore he cried to him so. He said: "O noble Dietrich, now who hath lifted a hand Of any my friends against thee? Willing and ready I stand To make unto thee atonement, and thy claim to satisfy. If any had done thee a mischief, grieved to the heart were I." Made answer the noble Dietrich: "No wrong hath been wrought unto me. But let me in peace and safety forth of the hall go free, And take with me all my people out of the bitter strife; So will I to thee of a surety be beholden all my life." "Wherefore so soon," cried Wolfhart, "a grace of him dost implore? Yon viol-minstrel hath barred not, I wot, so fast the door, But that wide ourselves can set it, till we all therethrough have won." "Thou, hold thy peace!" said Dietrich, "no smallest deed hast thou done."

Spake unto him King Gunther: "This I accord unto you. Lead all forth of the palace, many be they or few, So they be not my foemen: of these forth goeth none, For of these foul wrong hath been done me here in the land of the Hun." When Dietrich the noble heard it, around the high-born Queen Cast he an arm of protection--her fear was deadly-keen!-- {P. 273} And forth of the hall King Etzel he drew with the other hand; And after Dietrich followed six hundred knights of his band.

Then unto Gunther the Margrave, the noble Rüdiger, cried: "If thou meanest that forth of the palace any shall win beside Of such as be fain to serve thee, of this thing do me to wit; So shall our bond of friendship and peace be abidingly knit." Then to his fair bride's father Giselher straightway spake: "Let peace and love between us be a bond that none shall break. The troth-plight of friendship ever do thou and thine maintain. Go fearless forth of the palace, thou and thy vassal-train." When Rüdiger, Lord of the Marches, passed free through the guarded door, There went with him five hundred--yea, peradventure more-- Friends of the Lord of Bechlaren and his trusty vassal-throng: But of that fair faith unto Gunther great scathe befell ere long.

Now it happed that a knight of the Hunfolk beheld King Etzel go Safe under Dietrich's shielding, and would fain 'scape even so; But with a stroke so deadly the viol-minstrel swept The head from the skulker's shoulders, that to Etzel's feet it leapt. So when the Lord of Hunland came forth from the battle-wrack, He turned him about, and at Volker he looked in amazement back-- "Woe's me for the guests I have harboured! O day of sorrow and bane Wherein beneath their prowess all these my knights fall slain! Woe's me for my festal high-tide!" that king of nations said: "Within there fighteth a warrior, Volker, a name of dread. Like some wild boar he rageth--and a minstrel him they name! Thank Heaven that safe from the talons of this foul fiend I came! Doom rings and sings in his measures, red are the strokes of his bow; In his notes I hear the death-knell of many a knight laid low. What hath the viol-minstrel against us know I not. Never by guest such sorrow upon mine house was brought!"

{P. 274}

(C) Straight to their harbourage went they, those noble warriors twain, Rüdiger, Lord of the Marches, and Dietrich, Bern's great thane. Themselves were steadfast-minded aloof from the quarrel to stay, And they straitly commanded their vassals to have nought to do with the fray. (C) Yet had those guests had foreknowledge of the mischief hard by the door, To be wrought by those two heroes, which for them fate had in store, Verily not so lightly had they won that hall-way through Ere those grim portal-keepers with the sword had smitten them too.

All whom they would had they suffered by this to pass from within; Then again brake forth in the feast-hall a yet more fearful din. Grimly the guests avenged them for the broken troth and the wrong. Ha, how were the helmets cloven by the arm of Volker the strong! To the clash of that deadly music King Gunther turned him about-- "Hearst thou the tunes, O Hagen, that Volker beateth out On the heads of the Huns, whosoever essay the door that he keeps? Red are the strings of the viol whereover his swift bow leaps!" "Sore is mine heart above measure for this thing," Hagen replied, "That in this hall-feast I am sundered afar from the good thane's side Ever was I his comrade, and he true comrade to me. We will dwell, if we win home ever, in love and loyalty. Behold, Lord King, is Volker to thee not faithful-souled? Nobly he earneth guerdon of thy silver and thy gold! His viol-bow goeth cleaving the adamant steel in twain, And the gemmed helm-crests are shattered and scattered in flashing rain. Never beheld I minstrel stand such a lord of the fray As Volker the thane hath proved him on this his glory-day. Hark, how through helm and shield-plate his measures clash and gride! He shall yet wear kingly raiment, and goodly steeds bestride."

So fought they on, till of Hunfolk that in that hall had been Through all its mist of slaughter no living man was seen. There was none to fight, and the uproar was hushed, the tumult died. From their hands the aweless heroes laid now their swords aside.

XXXIV. How they cast forth the Dead

{P. 275}

Then sat them down the warriors to rest them toil-forspent. But forth of the feast-hall doorway Volker and Hagen went; And leaning upon their bucklers, as in scorn of foes without, Spake they together, casting at the Hunfolk gibe and flout. Then cried the Prince Burgundian, Giselher the thane: "We may not, O friends belovèd, resting longer remain. We must needs first hale the corpses forth of the palace-hall; For our foes, I say of a surety, again upon us will fall. Nowise it befitteth that longer clogging our feet they lie. Ere the foe in the storm of battle from us wrest victory, Deep wounds will we hew full many, and sweet is the thought unto me; Yea, my heart is set on the war-feast," said Giselher, "steadfastly." "Glad am I that such a war-lord I have!" cried Hagen the grim. "This counsel well beseemeth no meaner knight than him, But such an one as the young Prince hath proved him to-day in your sight: And for this, O thanes Burgundian, blithe be your hearts and light!"

Then did they after his counsel, and out through the door they drew Seven thousand slain men's corpses, and forth of the palace threw. Afront of the steps they hurled them adown to the court below. Then wailed from the friends of the slaughtered lamentation and mourning and woe. There was many a man among them whose hurts were not so sore, But that soon, had he gentle tendance, he were whole again as before, Who yet found death all swiftly, hurled from that cruel height. Loudly their kin lamented who saw that pitiful sight.

Then shouted the viol-minstrel, the champion dauntless-souled: "Now well do I see how truly the tale unto me was told {P. 276} That this is a land of cravens: like women they wail, these Huns, They who should now be tending the battle-stricken ones!" Then it seemed to a lord of the marches that he spake not in scoffing mood; And that same lord had a kinsman there fallen in his blood; And he thought from the carnage to bear him, and his arms around him he threw; But the minstrel with a javelin hurled at him, and slew. Then back from the stairway fled they who in hope had been drawing near, Cursing the viol-minstrel in the impotent fury of fear. Then caught up Volker a javelin, stubborn-shafted and keen: Shot by one of the Hunfolk against himself had it been. Across the court he sped it, putting his might to the cast, That it flew o'er their heads fierce-singing; and Etzel's men were aghast, As he warned them to safer standing, from the hall-door far away. At his matchless might all people were thrilled with sore dismay.

Before that hall with Etzel in thousands the Hunfolk stood. And now did Volker and Hagen in scornful-reckless mood Set them to gall the Hun-king, and with bitter taunts to defy. Ere long grim retribution on the heroes came thereby. "It were well," cried Hagen, "to hearten the folk in the evil day, That the lords of the land should battle in the forefront of the fray, Even as this day battle those true men, even my lords: They hew the helmets asunder, blood flieth to meet their swords."

No battle-blencher was Etzel: he grasped in wrath and pride His shield--"Risk not at their bidding thine own life!" Kriemhild cried. "Nay, offer thy shield gold-brimming for a champion of thy war-band. If thou close with yonder Hagen, death standeth at thy right hand." Yet the King was a knight so fearless that he would not refrain from the strife-- Sooth, now such mighty princes more dearly tender their life!-- Their lord from the fray by his shield-band his servants needs must hale. Then with grim laughter Hagen again at the King 'gan rail: {P. 277} "Good sooth, 'tis a far-away kinship," he cried with bitter jeer, "That hath drawn this Etzel and Siegfried each unto other so near! He wantoned with yonder Kriemhild or ever she looked on thee! What ho, King Etzel the craven, what grudge hast thou against me?"

In the ears of the great Queen tingled the scoffer's every word: Black grew the heart of Kriemhild at the thought that his taunt was heard Of all those vassals of Etzel, when he dared to make her a jest; And she set her once more to enkindle her champions against that guest. She cried: "Whosoever will smite me yon Hagen of Troneg dead, And bring for a trophy hither and cast at my feet his head, For him the shield of Etzel will I fill with gold to the brim, Yea also, castles for guerdon and land will I give unto him." "I wot not why these falter," the viol-minstrel said. "Never have I seen heroes stand so sorely adread, When offered in all men's hearing is all that wealth of gold. Of a truth, never more will Etzel unto these be gracious-souled. These things of shame and scorning, on the bread of the King they feed, And behold, they now forsake him in the stress of his sorest need! Of such I behold full many: utterly cowed are they-- And they name them heroes!--branded are they with contempt for aye!"

(C) The heart of Etzel the mighty was shaken with grief and groan: For his kin and his perished liegemen did he make bitter moan. From many a land around him stood knights on every side, And wept with the King for the sorrow of that heavy festal tide. (C) Once more the aweless Volker set him to gibe and jeer: "Warriors I see full many with false tears weeping here; But little do they for the helping of their king in his evil case. They eat the bread of their master to their shame and confusion of face!" (C) And their best in their hearts acknowledged, "That Volker saith is truth." And of all that throng was no man more stung with shame and ruth Than Iring, Lord of the Marches, a knight from the land of the Dane; And in sooth in no long season he proved it in battle-strain.

XXXV. How Iring fought and died

{P. 278}

Then shouted the Margrave Iring, the lord of the Danefolk's land: "Ever on quest of honour have I set mine heart and hand, And have done my best endeavour where surges of fight tossed high. Bring me mine harness! My prowess against yon Hagen I try." "Thou shalt do it to thy destruction!" did Hagen scornfully say. "Thou shouldst better bid these Hunfolk to shrink yet farther away. Though twain, yea, three of you rushing essay to win this hall, Back grievously hurt will I send them; adown this stair shall they fall." "Not for thy threats I refrain me!" cried Iring with shining eyes. "Full oft ere this have I ventured on as perilous emprise. Alone will I withstand thee, and not with words, but the sword. What care I for all thy vaunting, O thou tongue-valiant lord?"

Then with speed was the good thane Iring sheathed in knightly mail And Irnfried of Thuringia, a heart unused to quail, And Hawart the strong, with a thousand warriors in battle-array, Stood eager to go where Iring the hero led the way. Then looked the viol-minstrel, and beheld that huge war-band That would press on after Iring, armed all with shield and brand, And upon their heads had they settled and laced the helmets bright. Then was the valiant Volker exceeding wroth at the sight. "Seest thou, friend Hagen," he shouted, "how Iring cometh on, He that but now made proffer to meet thee in battle alone? Is it seemly that heroes be liars? contempt upon such I pour. Lo, armed at his side come onward a thousand knights or more!"

"Liar me thou no liars!" Hawart's liegeman replied. "Unto you did I give a promise, and by that will I abide. {P. 279} My word shall not be broken for any craven fear! Be Hagen never so grimly, alone will I meet him here." Thereat did Iring bow him at his friends' and liegemen's feet: "Suffer ye me unholpen," he said, "yon knight to meet." Right sorely loth they consented, for known to them well was the might Of Hagen the Burgundian, the overweening knight. So long did he entreat them that at last they needs must yield. When his friends and his faithful vassals beheld him steadfast-willed, And marked how he thirsted for honour, at the last they let him go. Then did begin a grapple most grim 'twixt foe and foe.

Iring the knight of Daneland a casting-spear upswung; For a fence of his breast the hero his shield before him flung: Swift to the meeting with Hagen to the door of the hall he sprang; Then burst forth 'twixt those champions a mighty battle-clang. The hands of the twain, ere they grappled, sped the javelins' flight: They pierced through the strong-knit bucklers, they rang on the hauberks bright, That high above their helmets the splintered spear-staves flew; And swiftly the two grim warriors their swords from the scabbards drew. Measureless might had Hagen the dauntless above all men; Yet starkly did Iring smite him, that the castle rang again: Through the halls and the towers of the palace did their blows' wild echoes thrill. Yet the Dane with his uttermost striving might compass not his will.

So Iring turned him from Hagen, who was woundless yet of his blows, And now with the viol-minstrel in conflict did he close. He weened, as he hailed grim sword-strokes, he should smite his foeman down; But of fence exceeding cunning was that champion of renown. So starkly smote the minstrel, that the studs were whirled through the air By Volker's strong hand stricken from the shield that Iring bare. So he left him standing unwounded, for a terrible foe was he: Then turned he, and leapt upon Gunther, the Lord of Burgundy. So champion clashed with champion, giants in battle-might, Gunther and Iring, and starkly each the other they smite; {P. 280} Yet neither could redden the armour of other with gushing blood, For the strong-knit links of the harness the edge of the steel withstood.

From Gunther he swiftly hath turned him, and now upon Gernot he springs; He smiteth his mail, and he heweth flashes of flame from the rings. But Gernot the lord Burgundian with such stark fury fought, That to death's sheer brink his prowess the valiant Iring brought. But he sprang from the Prince--as a panther's swift was the leap of the thane-- And four good knights Burgundian with four great strokes hath he slain; In the noble host of the vassals from Worms over Rhine they came. Never ere then so hotly did the wrath of Giselher flame. "By the living God, Sir Iring," the young prince Giselher cried, "Unto me shalt thou make atonement for these that here have died Even now by thy battle-brand stricken!" He leapt upon his foe, And he lashed with a stroke so mighty that the Dane reeled back from the blow: As hurled from the hands of the smiter, backward he fell in blood, That it seemed unto all beholders that the warrior stalwart and good Should never strike in battle another stroke of brand: Yet Iring the while unwounded lay of Giselher's hand. In sooth, so rang his helmet, so clashed the sword on his head, That stunned he lay, and his senses awhile were utterly fled; And indeed for a space he knew not whether he yet lived on. Even this unto him had the prowess of valiant Giselher done.

When he came to himself, and out of the darkness his soul awoke From the swoon wherein it had sunken at the falling of that great stroke, Then thought he: "Behold, I am living! Moreover, wound have I none. Now know I Giselher's prowess, the might of the valiant one!" Around him the feet of the foemen he heard, as they moved to and fro. Had they known that he lived, right swiftly had they ended him, I trow! The voice of Giselher heard he withal as he stood hard by; And he pondered how from the foemen that ringed him round he should fly.

{P. 281}

From the blood like a very madman upsprang to his feet the knight-- Well might he thank his fleetness for speeding thence his flight! As out through the door he darted, lo, there did Hagen stand, And the Dane hailed blows upon him with swift and sudden hand. Then Hagen thought: "Thou art surely now in the clutches of death! Except the Foul Fiend help thee, thou drawest thy latest breath!" Yet indeed had he wounded Hagen with a stroke through his helm that clave: That deed had he done with Waske, a mighty battle-glaive. When Hagen the grim-hearted of the wound so dealt was ware, In his grip with tenfold fury his war-glaive hissed through the air In such wise that Hawart's liegeman must needs give back from his face, And Hagen, as down the stairway he fled, still held him in chase. Over his head his buckler he swung up, Iring the strong, To screen him: yet had the stairway been even thrice so long, No time had Hagen left him to strike one stroke of sword. Ha, how the red sparks streaming from his ringing helmet poured!

Yet back unto friends and kinsmen unwounded Iring returned; And so soon as the Lady Kriemhild the wondrous tidings learned How against Hagen of Troneg her champion had borne him in fight, For this that Daughter of Princes poured forth her thanks to the knight: "Now God reward thee, Iring, thou thane renowned and bold! To mine heart hast thou brought comfort, and made me joyful-souled. Lo, I see on the battle-harness of Hagen a bloody stain!" And for joy took Kriemhild the buckler herself from the hand of the thane. "Small cause wilt thou have to thank him," cried Hagen in fierce disdain: "Let but thy valorous champion essay the deed again; If alive he win back ever, a hero indeed shall he be; And as for the wound he hath dealt me, small joy shall it be unto thee! For the little scratch I have gotten that mine harness reddeneth, It hath but enkindled my fury unto many a warrior's death: Against the liegeman of Hawart mine anger it doth but whet. Small scathe thy champion Iring hath done unto Hagen yet!"

{P. 282}

For a space in the breeze fresh-blowing stood Iring of Danish land: He cooled his limbs in his harness, he loosed his helmet-band. All round him the folk stood praising his might and his chivalry, And the heart of the Lord of the Marches thereat beat proud and high. Then once again spake Iring: "Good friends, I pray you go And bring new arms: I am purposed again to essay yon foe, If I haply may still the boaster, and abase the arrogant head." Sore hacked was his shield, but a better they gave him in its stead.

Soon stood the knight full-armoured in stronger warrior-gear: He grasped in his battle-fury a stubborn-shafted spear, And he set his face unto Hagen to defy him to fight once more; Then leapt to meet him the hatred of that murder-wolf of war. For Hagen the thane would wait not for the coming of Iring's feet, But hurling javelins before him he sprang his foe to meet Down all the length of the stairway: his fury was passing great. Ah, little did Iring's prowess avail in the hour of fate! As the swords hewed through the bucklers, it was as a fierce wind blew The sparks of a burning forest. Then Hawart's liegeman true Gat from the sword of Hagen a wound that bit to the brain Crashing through buckler and helmet--he was never whole again. When ware was the good knight Iring of the bite of the sword-edge keen, Higher he swung his buckler his rifted helm to screen. He weened that in that grim sword-gash he had gotten scathe enow; But Gunther's liegeman dealt him a yet more deadly blow: For Hagen caught at a javelin that lay at his feet on the ground; At the Daneland hero he hurled it, and his shieldless face it found, And lo, the quivering spear-shaft stood out from his head behind. From the hand of Hagen the mighty a grim end did he find. Back to the ranks of his people staggered the fainting Dane; But ere they could raise the helmet from the piercèd head of the thane, They must needs draw out the spear-shaft:--death's hand upon him lay, And his friends brake forth into weeping: good cause to weep had they!

{P. 283}

Then Kriemhild, Daughter of Princes, to the stricken man drew nigh, And she cried over Iring the stalwart an exceeding bitter cry; Over his wounds sore wept she: her heart was wrung with grief. Then spake in his kinsmen's presence that battle-fearless chief: "Forbear thy lamentation, O Lady royal-born. What now availeth thy weeping? My life from my limbs is torn: Out through the wounds I have gotten it fleeteth fast away. Death putteth an end to my service of Etzel and thee this day." Unto Dane he turned and Thuringian, and bespake that warrior-band: "The gifts that the Queen hath proffered, take heed that no man's hand Be tempted to earn that guerdon of the shining gold and red; For if ye encounter Hagen, ye shall look on the place of the dead."

Bloodless-grey was his visage: the tokens of death showed plain On the brow of the valiant Iring. Their hearts were wrung with pain For Hawart's hero-vassal, brave heart for ever stilled! Then a sudden fury of battle the Danemark warriors thrilled. On charged they, Irnfried and Hawart: they leapt to the guarded door, And a thousand heroes followed. Then roar on shattering roar Rang round in crashing echoes unearthly wild and high. What hail of massy javelins did against the Burgundians fly!

Full on the viol-minstrel did Irnfried the dauntless run, But bitter scathe his daring from the hand of Volker won; For he dealt, that noble minstrel, the landgrave such a blow That it cleft through the firm-knit helmet--in sooth was he grim enow! Wounded to death, yet Irnfried smote one mighty stroke, And the sword through the rings of the hauberk on the breast of the minstrel broke, And over his mail fell flashing the links in a fiery rain:-- But now was he sped, and the landgrave fell, by the minstrel slain.

Man against man clashed Hagen and Hawart in grapple of fight; A tale might he tell of wonders who had looked upon that sight. {P. 284} Like lashing rain fell swordstrokes from either hero's hand, Till slain was the death-doomed Hawart by him of Burgundia-land. When Danefolk and Thuringians beheld how their lords were slain, Maddened afront of the palace yet grimmer battle-strain, As they struggled with mighty hand-strokes to win that portal through, And through many a shield and helmet did the flashing steel-edge hew.