Part 5

“Ah no! it is my lord, foully slain by Günther, and Brunhild it was who urged him to the deed!”

Bending over the lifeless form, while the chamberlain lowered his torch, she gently lifted the head and laid it on her knee; and therewith, disfigured as the noble features were, she knew it for her husband.

“Woe is me!” she cried, “by no good sword stroke hath his shield been shattered. ’Twas a murderer’s hand that laid my Siegfried low!”

Thereupon she caused the Nibelungs to be awakened and a messenger despatched to Siegmund. The aged King had passed a sleepless night so fearful was he for his son; yet this terrible news he could not credit, but hastened to Kriemhild only to find her in an agony of grief, surrounded by her weeping women. When the Nibelungs came and saw the lifeless body of their King, they cried aloud in bitter wrath and woe, and drawing their swords, would have avenged his death forthwith; but Kriemhild restrained them, and there before them all she took a solemn oath never to rest till she had found the murderer and wrought vengeance upon him for the bloody deed.

Then Siegfried’s wounds were washed, his body clothed in costly garments and raised upon a bier, and thereafter borne to the cathedral amid tolling of bells and chanting of hymns, while all the people flocked to look upon the hero and join in bewailing his death. Thither too came Günther and Hagen with a great show of grief and horror, to join the mourners. But Kriemhild bade her brother cease his lamentations, since but for him her husband then had been alive.

Günther stoutly denied this, and swore that Siegfried had been slain by robbers in the forest; whereupon Kriemhild demanded that he and all his followers should singly approach the bier. Günther and his two brothers strode past it in silence; then came Hagen, and when he stood beside the corpse, lo! the wounds began to bleed afresh. Again Günther maintained that they were innocent, but Kriemhild, fixing her gaze full on Hagen, cried aloud in grief and wrath:

“Now do I know his murderer!”

A great coffin, long and wide, of silver and gold embossed with knobs of steel, was made ready and therein, wrapped in a winding sheet of richest silk, Siegfried’s body was laid. For three days and nights it rested in the minster, and Kriemhild watched beside it. She neither ate nor drank, but besought God to have pity on her and let her also die, that she might be laid with her husband in the tomb.

On the third day the funeral rites were held; and when they were ended, Kriemhild caused the coffin lid to be raised, and in an agony of grief embraced the corpse of her beloved and kissed the pale lips for the last time. Swooning she was borne away; and thereupon, amid tolling of bells and the sobs of the multitude, was the mighty hero laid to rest within the minster vault.

After some days had passed, Siegmund sought Kriemhild and said to her: “Now let us depart to our own land, my daughter; for here methinks we are but unwelcome guests.”

But thereon came Gernot and Giselher, the King’s two brothers, who were guiltless of the death of Siegfried, and with loving words besought her to abide with them.

For a time Kriemhild hesitated, but the thought of departing from the burial place of her beloved spouse cost her such pangs that at the last she yielded and promised her brothers to remain in Worms. Siegmund bade farewell to none but Kriemhild, and bowed with grief, the aged King and his faithful Nibelungs mounted their steeds and rode away from the land of the Burgundians, never to return.

_Chapter XVIII_

_The Nibelung Hoard_

In a castle hard by the minster, Kriemhild now spent her sorrowful days, mourning her lost husband and going daily to pray beside his tomb. Thus three long years went by and no word did she speak to Günther, nor did she once see Hagen in all that time.

But Hagen never ceased to urge the King to make his peace with her, for in no other way might the Nibelung hoard be brought to Worms; and at last this was brought about by the King’s two brothers. At the cost of many tears Kriemhild forgave every one save Hagen, but little for that cared the grim hero. His mind was set upon the treasure which had been Siegfried’s marriage gift to his wife. Soon Kriemhild was persuaded to send for it, whereupon Gernot and Giselher with eight thousand men were despatched to the land of the Nibelungs to claim the hoard. Had Alberich, the Dwarf-King, still possessed the magic cap, none could have forced him to give up the treasure; but Siegfried had taken it from him, and he needs must obey Kriemhild’s commands. In four days and nights, twelve wagons going to and fro had transported the great heap of gold and jewels to the ship from its resting-place within the mountain; and thus was the mighty Nibelung hoard, so famed in song and story, brought at last to Worms. There the two princes gave it into Kriemhild’s keeping; and so vast was the treasure that it filled whole vaults and towers, nor did it ever grow less however much was taken from it.

After some time had passed, Hagen said to Günther: “Of a truth, the lady Kriemhild doth dispense her riches with an open hand, and therewith bestow great charities, alike to high and low. Ere-long she will gain so many friends and followers that peril may well ensue to ourselves, wherefore, methinks, ’twere better far to keep the hoard.”

To this Günther replied that the gold was her own, to do with as she would; moreover, he had sworn to do her no more wrong. But Hagen so beset his royal master, offering himself to bear the blame, that at the last Günther yielded, and Hagen thereupon possessed himself of the keys to the treasure.

Now, at this time it chanced that the Burgundians were about to set forth on some warlike expedition, and the youthful Giselher, full of wrath at this fresh injury to his beloved sister, swore to lend her his aid as soon as ever he should return. But Hagen abode in Worms, and, fearing lest the keys should be taken from him, availed himself of the King’s absence to bury the hoard beneath the Rhine, hoping thereby to keep it for his own. But not thus had fate decreed. Being well aware that the King’s brothers would not easily forgive this bold act, he left the court for a space to wait till their wrath should have cooled.

Thus with new sorrows was Kriemhild oppressed, and still more bitter grew her wrath and hatred toward Hagen. Not content with the murder of Siegfried, he must also take from her the means of aiding the poor and suffering, and this had been the only solace of her darkened life.

_Chapter XIX_

_King Etzel Woos Kriemhild_

In those days there reigned over the Huns a mighty King who was called Etzel (Attila). His royal castle, Etzelburg (now called Ofen), was on the Danube, and his kingdom stretched far beyond the boundaries of what is now known as Hungary. Great was his fame and many were the lands over which he held sway, so that not only had the dukes and margraves as his subjects, but also kings did homage to him. His good Queen Helcha was dead, and such were the tales that reached him of the beauty and virtue of Kriemhild that he resolved to seek her hand; accordingly, Margrave Rüdiger, one of his richest and bravest knights, was sent to lay his suit before her.

When at the end of their long journey Rüdiger and his followers rode into the courtyard of the castle at Worms, none knew him. Hagen was therewith sent for, and he, having many years before lived for a space at Etzel’s court, declared the stranger knight to be Rüdiger, and counselled the King to receive him well. Thereupon the margrave was conducted to the great hall, where Günther gave him kindly welcome, seated him near his own person, and caused wine to be served him from his own flagon. After they had sat for a time Rüdiger arose and made known his errand, namely, that King Etzel desired to make Kriemhild his wife. Günther promised him an answer in three days, and therewith took counsel privately with his brothers and nearest of kin.

All were agreed that it would be well for the King’s widowed sister to wed the King of the Huns, save Hagen, who stoutly declared the betrothal should in no wise be permitted, protesting that evil would surely come of it, for Kriemhild would find means to avenge herself upon them. To this Günther replied that Etzel’s kingdom was too remote to be a danger to them, and Giselher rebuked Hagen, saying:

“Methinks my sister hath already suffered enough at thy hands. Seek not to thwart what yet perchance may bring her joy!”

Still Hagen maintained that they one day would rue it if they scorned his counsel; but none the less the princes resolved that Kriemhild should make her own choice. The Margrave Gere was sent forthwith to acquaint her with King Etzel’s desire. The sorrowing Queen at first deemed it but another plan of Hagen’s to mock her grief; but when Gere assured her that it was no jest, she replied that she had no wish to wed, but sought only to spend her days in mourning her dead lord.

The next day came Rüdiger himself to urge his master’s suit. Kriemhild greeted him kindly, but bade him tell King Etzel that none who knew her grief for Siegfried would seek to win her hand. Thereupon Rüdiger sought to tempt her with the wealth and honor that would be hers as the wife of the mighty Etzel, but all in vain; nor were the counsels of her mother and brothers of any avail to move her from her purpose. Still Rüdiger did not despair, but again making plain to her the power she would have as Queen of all the Huns, added significantly:

“Moreover, gracious lady, hadst thou e’er a wrong to be avenged, thou couldst depend on my good sword.”

At these words Kriemhild’s hatred against Hagen blazed up more fiercely than before. With flashing eyes she called on Rüdiger to pledge his word thereto; and this he did, little foreseeing in what manner he should one day be called upon to redeem it.

Thereupon Kriemhild consented to become the wife of King Etzel and, bidding farewell to all her kin, departed with Rüdiger for the land of the Huns.

_Chapter XX_

_Etzel’s Invitation to Günther_

When Etzel learned that Kriemhild was coming, he rode gallantly forth to meet his bride with a long train of knights and courtiers. Kings and dukes were there withal, and banners of many countries waved above the host. For seventeen days the wedding festivities lasted; nor had Kriemhild in all her life seen aught to equal the splendor and magnificence that now surrounded her.

Six years went by. Kriemhild had borne a son who was called Ortlieb, and she was happy at Etzel’s court; yet still was she tormented with the thought that Siegfried’s murderer yet lived. The theft of the Nibelung hoard she had indeed forgiven, but her deadly wrath at the foul treachery to her beloved husband had known no change.

“Oh, that Hagen were but here!” she often sighed as she cast about her for some means whereby this might be brought to pass; for well she knew that he would never come alone. At last she bethought her of a plan. Seeking the King one day when in a gracious mood, she said to him:

“Most generous lord! one cause of grief and shame have I, in that my kindred never visit me. Methinks it will be said that I came to thee an exile, or that my kin disown me. Wherefore I pray thee, let them be summoned hither as our guests, and thereby wilt thou greatly relieve my troubles.”

King Etzel kindly granted this request and forthwith despatched messengers to Worms to bid the Burgundian princes to the approaching festival of the Summer solstice. Before they departed, however, Kriemhild summoned them to her and charged them to see to it that all her kinsmen came, even to her uncle Hagen; and furthermore, if they should be questioned concerning her, to say that she was well and of good cheer.

Thereupon the messengers set out for Worms. Günther gave them such welcome as befitted the envoys of so powerful a ruler, and much rejoiced was he to hear of Kriemhild’s contentment, for now it seemed she had at last forgotten all the past. A council was held, and all were for accepting King Etzel’s bidding save Hagen, who grew angry when urged thereto. Casting a black look at Günther, he asked if he had forgotten how Siegfried was slain.

“’Twas by my hand he fell, in truth; but thou wast partner to the deed!”

Earnestly he strove to dissuade them from the journey, pointing out the danger of putting themselves in the power of Kriemhild, whose vengeance never slept. But the princes refused to abide by his counsel, and Giselher, who of all the brothers was best loved by Kriemhild, exclaimed:

“Thou art the guilty one, not we! An thou dost tremble for thy life, bide here; but as for us, our wish is that we ride thither without delay.”

Then Hagen urged no more, but made ready to accompany them, since shame it were for him to stay behind. Yet he warned Günther as a safeguard to take with him a thousand of the stoutest champions in the land; and this he did, leaving Hagen to choose them. And when all were fully armed and ready, they set out on their fateful journey to the land of the Huns.

_Chapter XXI_

_The Swan-Maidens_

Toward the Main they took their way, Hagen leading, for well he knew the ground. Proudly they rode, a thousand gallant knights, and behind them came full nine thousand stout retainers. On the twelfth morning they came to the Danube and found the river far and near had overflowed its banks; whereat Hagen’s brow grew dark, but Günther bade him seek some means of crossing.

“Forsooth,” said he, “I care as little as another to meet death within yon waves, for many a Hun I trust shall yet by my hand breathe his last!” Therewith he rode on before to seek a boatman. Well was he armed, with his stout shield and helm and hauberk of polished steel and his heavy two-edged sword buckled to his mail. As he drew near the stream he heard the splashing of water, and looking about saw two nymphs disporting themselves therein, their golden hair floating far behind them, while on the green bank lay their wondrous swan-garments. Hagen stooped quickly and snatched them up, whereupon Hadburg, one of the nymphs (mermaidens), called to him:

“Sir Hagen bold, so thou return Our raiment on the spot, We’ll tell thee of thy journey’s end, And what will be thy lot!”

This was much to Hagen’s mind, and he agreed thereto. Then the swan-maiden said:

“With ample safety ye may ride Into King Etzel’s land: I pledge on this my truth and troth, And therewithal my hand,

“That never noble king’s array Did win in foreign State, Such honor and such lofty fame, Believe--such is your fate.”

Overjoyed at these words, Hagen restored to the nymphs their strange garments; and no sooner had they donned them than straightway they became white swans.

Then spake the other water-nymph, This one Sieglind’s hight: “I warn thee, Hagen Tronege, Sir Adrian’s son of might,

“That to obtain the clothes, my aunt Has said what is not true: For shouldst thou journey to the Huns, That journey thou shalt rue.

“Turn back again, ye heroes, There yet is time, I ween; For ye to this high festival, Have only bidden been

“That ye should thereby perish, In royal Etzel’s land; And all who thither ride, To death extend the hand!”

Then Hagen, seized with fury, cried: “Now, by my faith, thou liest in thy speech! No cause is it for all to die that one among us hath incurred deep hate.”

Again the nymph in sorrow spoke: “Yet fate hath so declared, Of all your gallant company Shall only one be spared--

“And he, the chaplain of the King, As we full well do know, He only, home returning, to King Günther’s land shall go.”

Then would Hagen hear no more, but asked if there was no ferryman at hand. She told him the ferryman’s house was on the other bank of the Danube, and warned him to be on his guard with the man and speak him fair, or evil might come of it, for he was of wrathful temper and a stout liegeman of the prince to whom the land on that side of the river belonged.

At this Hagen looked scornfully and rode away, but again the Swan-maidens called to him, and bade him call himself Amelrich, for that name would surely bring the boatman. Therewith they arose in the air in their swan-garments and soon had vanished from sight. When Hagen spied the house across the stream he gave a mighty shout which brought the ferryman to the door. Hanging a heavy gold clasp upon the point of his sword, Hagen held it aloft so that it gleamed in the sunlight, and offered it to him, at the same time calling himself Amelrich, whereupon the doughty boatman seized the oars and rowed his boat across the river. No sooner had it touched the bank than Hagen sprang quickly into it, but the man shouted furiously:

“Now hast thou lied to me! Thou art not my brother Amelrich, so on this side mayst thou bide, forsooth!”

Hagen’s brow darkened, yet still he sought to speak him fair. “I am a stranger here,” he said, “and with me ride a thousand knights and many followers besides. We would fain go on our way, wherefore take this gold and ferry us across the stream.”

“My lord hath many enemies,” replied the ferryman, “and ill were it for me to fetch armed strangers to his lands. Nay, get thee hence, Sir Knight!”

Still Hagen would not stir; whereupon the ferryman, swinging his oar aloft, smote him so mightily that he fell upon his knee. Quickly the hero sprang to his feet, only to receive a second blow on his helm, which split the oar with a loud crash. Thereupon Hagen grew mad with rage and drawing his sword he struck off the boatman’s head. Down it fell into the river and after it he cast the body.

Meanwhile the current had caught the boat and borne it down the stream. Hagen seized the second oar and sought therewith to turn it back, but the current was strong and so powerful were his strokes that the oar broke asunder. Now was he indeed in sorry plight, but cutting a thong from his shield he quickly spliced the oar and gained once more the mastery of the craft.

Soon Günther and his followers perceived the bold mariner coming up the river and joyfully hailed him. But when he reached the bank they looked aghast at the blood in the bottom of the boat. The King cried out:

“Hagen, what hast thou done? Thou hast slain the ferryman.”

But Hagen denied it, saying: “Fast to a willow tree I found the boat, and therein was the blood, already spilled.”

Then Gernot said: “Methinks no farther are we like to fare, for of what use is the boat without a ferryman?”

Thereupon Hagen declared he would ferry them across himself. Bidding the princes enter the boat and with them as many knights as it would hold, he soon had landed them upon the farther bank; and thus going back and forth, he brought all safely over. The horses were driven into the water, and when they saw their masters on the other side and heard their voices, they gallantly swam the stream. Neighing for joy they climbed the bank, shook the water from their sides and galloped to their masters, who greeted them with kindly words. Nor were any lost, though many were carried far down the stream.

While Hagen was ferrying the men across, his eye fell upon the King’s chaplain, and bethinking him of the Swan-maiden’s word that he alone of them all was to return to Burgundy, he resolved to bring to naught this part of the prophecy at least. Seizing the priest, he dragged him to the side of the boat and, despite his cries, cast him into the rushing flood. Loudly did the knights protest against this misdeed, but none dared openly to resist the fierce champion. Soon the priest rose to the surface and clung to the side of the boat, but Hagen with the oar thrust him off, deep under the water; whereupon, not being able to swim, he gave himself up for lost. But the swift current bore him once more to land, and then, thanking God for his escape, he fled and made his way back to the Rhine.

It was plain to Hagen that all must come to pass as the Swan-maidens had foretold, and when the last man had reached the shore, he seized the heavy iron-tipped oar and smote the bow of the boat so that it broke asunder and presently sank. With wonder and dismay the knights beheld this deed of Hagen’s, and one ventured to ask him wherefore he had destroyed the boat that might have served them to cross the stream on their return. Within himself he thought, as we all are doomed to death no more need have we for boats; but to them he made answer, saying:

“Should any among us be so faint-hearted as to seek to return, he shall find no means thereto, but meet his end ignobly in the waves!”

But none was pleased with this save Volker, a stanch friend of Hagen’s. No stouter or more valiant knight was there in all the band than he, and to Hagen he clove most loyally, swearing to abide by him to the end, whatever might betide.

_Chapter XXII_

_Kriemhild’s Welcome_

After Günther and his knights had ridden on again for a space, Hagen made known to them the dark prophecy of the Swan-maidens. Quickly the news spread throughout the host, and many a heart sank, and many a cheek grew pale thereat; yet retreat was no longer possible, for the boat was gone.

Soon they came to the lands of Rüdiger, the margrave, who in former days had wooed Kriemhild for King Etzel. Right gladly were they welcomed by that brave and hospitable knight, and they spent three days at his castle in feasting and good cheer. At that time Rüdiger’s fair daughter won the heart of Giselher, and her parents willingly gave their consent to the betrothal, promising that the marriage should be celebrated on the return of the Burgundians. Alas! that never was to be.

But now no longer might they tarry, for already messengers had been sent to Etzel to warn him of their approach, and on the fourth morning they took their leave. Rüdiger bestowed rich gifts upon the princes and their kinsmen, and himself rode with them to the royal castle, Etzelburg, the shining towers whereof soon rose before them. It chanced that Dietrich, the Prince of Bern, who aforetime had slain the mighty Ecke, was then at Etzel’s court with the ancient Hildebrand; and fearing some evil to the Burgundians, they rode forth to meet them on their way. Hagen knew the two knights from afar and said to Günther:

“Yonder come Sir Dietrich and Hildebrand; let us dismount and go on foot to meet them!” Whereupon all the knights also dismounted. Dietrich and Hildebrand did the same, and the heroes exchanged friendly greetings. Then Dietrich told them of his fears, warning them that Kriemhild’s grief for Siegfried had known no change.

“’Tis of small avail to weep for Siegfried,” said Hagen, insolently, “since dead he is and dead will he remain, for all her tears.”

“Ay, that indeed!” replied Dietrich, with a stern glance at Hagen, “and pity is it, God wot, that King Siegfried lives no more. But Kriemhild’s vengeance still doth live; and thereby, much I fear me, evil is in store for you.”

Günther started; yet, seeking to allay his fears, he asked: “Are we not here by Etzel’s own request? Surely your King would not deal falsely by his guests; and Kriemhild long since made peace with us.”

But Hagen, wishing to know all the truth, urged Dietrich to speak freely. Whereupon he, taking Günther apart, told him how Kriemhild each morning bewailed the untimely death of Siegfried, with tears and prayers to God for vengeance.

Then out-spoke the bold and jovial Volker: “Now, in good sooth, my lords, we must endure those evils that we cannot cure with what grace we can. Let us not dampen our courage with fears for what the future may bring forth!” And therewith they resumed their journey.