Part 7

But Dankwart scorned their threats. “By the mass, I’ll bear the news myself while yet I live!” he cried; “I’ll stain many a Hunnish helm with gore!” So furiously did he spring upon his foes that they fell back before him and no longer dared meet him at sword’s length, but hurled their javelins at him from afar. His shield was soon so thickly pierced with spears that he could not bear the weight thereof, and so cast it off. Then they ventured again to approach; but he smote so fiercely and truly that none who came against him returned. Ever nearer and nearer he made his way to the royal hall. At last, weary and breathless, the hero reached the palace. The terrified servants let fall the cups and dishes that they bore, and would have hastened to the hall to tell the tale. But Dankwart cried: “Stay, varlets! your task is but to carry wine and food unto the feast! I will bear the news unto the King!” Some among them sought to bar his passage, but again his good sword marked a path. Springing up the stairs, of a sudden the hero appeared in the doorway of the vast hall where the Burgundians ate at table with the Huns.

Just at this moment it was that Hagen said the young prince bore the marks of an early death.

_Chapter XXVIII_

_The Strife in the Hall_

Loud rang bold Dankwart’s lusty tones Throughout the lofty hall: “My brother Hagen sits too long In peace and ease withal! To thee and to our God above, I tell my tale of pain: My knights and all our followers Have been at quarters slain!”

With one accord the knights sprang to their feet, their swords flashing aloft, and Hagen cried fiercely: “By Heaven! who hath done this slaughter?”

“Sir Blödelin and his men,” answered Dankwart; “yet dearly hath he paid therefor; with mine own hand I slew him.”

“It was more honor than he merited, thus to meet his death by a hero’s hand.”

Now was Hagen’s resolution taken, and he shouted: “Do thou, Dankwart, guard the door, nor suffer any Hun to leave the hall, while I hold a reckoning with these.”

Then springing to Kriemhild’s side, he cried: “Now let us drink to Siegfried’s repose! For that, we need the King’s own wine!” Therewith he struck off the head of the little prince. Then lifting Balmung with both hands, he slew the attendant of the prince, and a third stroke severed the right hand of the minstrel Werbel, who had borne King Etzel’s message to the Burgundians. Volker sprang to his side, and there began among the Hunnish knights “a slaughter grim and great.”

King Günther and his brothers sought at first to check the strife, but all in vain. Then they too were seized with the fury of battle, and soon all the Burgundians had joined the fray.

Meanwhile the Huns had drawn their swords and were bravely striving to defend themselves. Everywhere through the hall rose the clash of arms, and hoarse battle-cries reëchoed from the roof. From without more Huns hurled themselves against the door, eager to aid their comrades within; and Dankwart, hard pressed, was fain to cry to Hagen for aid. Whereupon that hero shouted in a voice of thunder: “Friend Volker, haste thee to my brother’s side, or we surely must lose a mighty champion!”

Gladly sprang Volker to the door; and now so fiercely did they ply their blades that no man lived to pass within or out.

Joyous above the battle din The minstrel’s shout rang clear; “The hall is now well closed, forsooth, Good comrades, be of cheer! King Etzel’s door is faster made By Burgund heroes twain Than if a thousand bolts were shot To make all entry vain!”

Whereat Hagen flung his shield upon his back, and again grasping Balmung with both hands, laid about him more furiously than before. Fear came upon Kriemhild, for she saw that the Burgundians were stronger than the Huns; and turning in terror to Dietrich of Bern, who stood near, she besought him to aid her to escape.

“But how may that be done, O Queen,” replied he. “So mad with fury are these heroes that even I must fight for my life.”

But Kriemhild pressed him so sorely in her fear that at length Dietrich promised he would seek to save her; and leaping upon a table, he gave a mighty shout. Clearly above the clash of arms it sounded like the blast of a battle horn. It caught King Günther’s ear, and knowing it for Dietrich’s voice, he commanded the strife to cease till he should learn the will of the hero, who made signal with his hand that he would speak. For a space there was silence while Günther asked whether Dietrich or any of his knights had suffered ill.

“Loath were I, noble knight, that such should chance,” said he, “for surely no cause for strife lies ’twixt us two.”

Dietrich replied that no evil had befallen them; he did but seek permission to withdraw with all his men. This Günther gladly granted, whereupon Dietrich, taking the Queen on one arm and King Etzel on the other, retired from the hall, followed by his knights; but no Huns were permitted to depart with them. Then Rüdiger, who had welcomed the Burgundians so hospitably on their way thither, also sprang upon the table and asked if no others might pass out. And Giselher, who was betrothed to Rüdiger’s daughter, cried:

“Naught is there but peace between us, gallant Rüdiger, for thou hast ever kept true faith with us and never sought to do us harm.”

So Rüdiger with his followers also departed from the hall in peace. A Hunnish knight had sought to slip out unseen behind the King, but Volker swiftly smote him dead upon the spot. When King Etzel was once more without he stood and cried aloud in grief:

“Now woe unto this peaceful feast! And woe unto this day! For there within is one doth rage Like wild boar brought to bay. This devil fierce is Volker hight A minstrel knight is he. Thanks be to God that by his grace I now in safety be! His fearful melodies ring out O’er all the din and strife; His viol bow is crimson red; Full many a hero’s life Doth answer to its mighty tones. Howe’er his wrath began, Sure ne’er had I so dread a guest As this same minstrelman.”

And now fiercer and fiercer raged the strife. The Burgundians showed no mercy. When the last Hun was dead, the victors laid down their arms and sat them down to draw breath, while Hagen and Volker with drawn swords kept guard before the door.

_Chapter XXIX_

_Iring’s Fight with Hagen_

Presently Giselher spoke: “Not yet, methinks, dear comrades, are our labors ended, and many hours of warfare lie before us ere we shall be overcome. But these dead Huns greatly encumber us, wherefore let us cast them out!” Hagen smiled grimly when he heard the young prince’s words, for they pleased him well.

Thereupon they seized the dead warriors and flung them out. Etzel came to gaze upon the dead, and Hagen, seeing him, cried out: “It were well, methinks, O King of Huns, an thou didst wield the sword and cheer thy people on, for they lack somewhat of heart! Behold the work the blade of our ruler hath wrought on helm and shield!”

At these words Etzel’s brow grew red with wrath and shame, and he called for his arms; but Kriemhild cried: “Nay, venture not thy life, dear lord! Thy single arm were of small avail against yon heroes. Rather heap thy shield with ruddy gold as a prize to those Huns who will maintain the strife.” But Etzel was no craven knight, and would have gone to do battle with Hagen had not his lords withheld him by force.

Then Hagen taunted the Queen with scornful words till her wrath against him rose hotter and fiercer than before, and she cried to the Huns: “On him who slayeth yon knight I will bestow the King’s shield piled up with gold, and many a castle and fruitful field besides.”

But none stirred; whereupon Volker mocked them, saying ’twere shame in them to eat the King’s bread, since none had courage to do his will, nor could such dastards hope to gain their lord’s esteem, but must hold themselves disgraced as knights forsworn. The bravest of the Huns felt bitter shame within them at the truth of Volker’s words, and were roused to fresh fury; yet none dared lead the attack. But there chanced to be a strange knight at the court,--the Margrave Iring of Denmark,--and he now stepped forth, saying: “I ever have been bent on glorious deeds, nor will I fail now to strive for such. Wherefore, Sir Hagen, arm thyself to meet me.”

Hagen sought to dissuade him from his purpose, but Iring replied:

“I have encountered great odds heretofore, and will not fail to meet them now”; and therewith he donned his armor. Then Irnfried of Thuringia, a valiant youth, and stout Hawart of Denmark, made ready to aid him with their followers.

When Volker saw the band of armed men advancing with the three knights at their head, he said: “Now, of a truth, friend Hagen, doth not a falsehood ill become a gallant knight? I thought yon boastful Iring would have dared a single combat with thee, and now behold, how well supported he comes!”

But Iring, hearing this, replied, ’twas not his wont to stain his knightly honor thus, and what he vowed he would now fulfil. Whereupon his men stood still and reluctantly allowed him to advance alone to meet his foe.

Raising aloft their well-poised javelins, the two champions hurled them at each other with such mighty force and so true an aim that both shields were pierced and the shafts snapped short, whereupon they rushed together, their great swords clanging sharply on the iron shields. So heavy were Sir Iring’s strokes that fire leaped out beneath them, and the clash of arms resounded through the hall, yet of no avail were they against Hagen’s strength and skill; whereupon, giving over the attempt, he fell upon Günther; and then again baffled, upon Gernot. At last, in a fury at finding himself no match for these heroes he sprang at one of the Burgundian knights and slew him and thereafter three others.

Now Giselher, beside himself with rage, longed for vengeance, nor did he long in vain, for therewith Iring rushed upon him, but Giselher smote him so powerfully that he fell senseless to the floor. All thought him dead, yet he was but stunned with the crashing blow upon his helm; and suddenly springing to his feet he rushed from the hall, smiting Hagen as he reached the door, and wounding him. Furious with rage, that hero grasped his sword in both hands and pursued Sir Iring down the stairs, striking sparks from his upraised shield.

Kriemhild, seeing the blood on Hagen’s helm, greeted Iring joyfully; but Hagen shouted to her to save her thanks until the knight should have proved himself worthy of them by returning again to the combat, warning her also that his wound was but slight and had done him little harm as she should soon learn. Thereupon Iring caused a new shield to be brought, and hastily donning fresh armor he rushed again to the stairway. Like a raging lion, down sprang Hagen to meet him, striking such fearful blows that naught could long withstand them. Soon they shore through shield and helm and wounded Iring. Higher he raised his shield to guard his head, when Hagen, seizing a spear that lay upon the ground, hurled it through the shield and fatally pierced him. Back fled Iring to his Danes and there sank dying at their feet, while they crowded about him with cries of sorrow. Kriemhild too bent over him weeping. He died like a hero; yet ere his eyes grew dim he spoke once more in warning to his followers:

“Those largesses which Etzel’s Queen Did promise you to-day Ne’er hope to conquer or to win While holding mortal breath; For he who fights with Hagen bold Is sure to meet with death!”

Maddened with grief and rage by the death of their chief, Irnfried and Hawart rushed headlong on the Burgundians and another fierce fight began. Soon Irnfried fell by Volker’s sword, and Hawart by Hagen’s. Then Volker ordered that their followers who were storming at the door be admitted to the hall, and again the din of battle rose more frightful than before. The Burgundians fought like lions; nor, fiercely as the Danes and Thuringians strove to avenge their lords, did one escape the swords of Günther’s dauntless heroes.

Volker, the minstrel knight, took his place by the palace door to watch for any new foe, but there were none who dared attack them. The Huns lacked courage, while Dietrich of Bern, and Rüdiger, who had bold knights at their command, not only shunned the strife but bitterly lamented that it had ever occurred.

_Chapter XXX_

_The Night of Terror_

Not long were the Burgundians to enjoy repose, however, for fresh bodies of Huns came pouring in from all sides, and soon Etzel and Kriemhild had mustered another force; nor was it easy to repel them, by reason of their great numbers.

The onslaught and defence did last Till hindered by the night. Those dauntless guests beyond all praise With Etzel’s men did fight The whole of one long Summer’s day-- So do the legends tell-- Hella! what thousands of brave men By Burgund weapons fell.

Thus night came on, and gladly would the war-worn heroes have sought a speedy death. Their thoughts also turned toward peace, and they made known to the Huns that they would have speech with the King. Word was sent to Etzel, and he forthwith appeared, with Kriemhild, before the palace, upon the stairway of which stood the three princes in their blood-stained armor, and behind them Hagen and Volker and Dankwart.

Then Etzel spoke: “What would ye have with me? ’Twere vain to sue for peace, for never so long as I have breath shall it be granted to those who so cruelly have slain my only child and many of my kin!”

Günther answered that it had been forced upon them, while Giselher, turning to the Huns, cried out:

“What charge against me do ye bring? Did I not come hither in all peace and friendship to your land?”

The knights replied: “Already hath such friendship cost us dear! Full many a widowed wife and orphaned child have bitter cause to wish thou ne’er hadst left the Rhine!”

Again Günther sought to make peace; but Etzel would hear naught thereof. “Your griefs are not as mine,” he said, “for to my loss is added shame; nor may it be effaced save with your blood. Wherefore, I say, not one of you shall depart hence with his life!”

Then said the youthful Giselher: “O beauteous sister mine, I little treachery feared when thou Didst bid me cross the Rhine.

“To thee I’ve ever faithful been, Nor grief nor sorrow wrought, Believing that thou heldst me dear, To bring thee joy I sought. Nor can I think thou’lt wish me ill; Be still my sister true! With kindly judgment look on us, Sure less thou canst not do.”

Once more a ray of love warmed Kriemhild’s sorely wounded heart, and she replied:

“Now if Sir Hagen you’ll agree Into my hands to give, Then will I not refuse to grant That ye three all shall live; Since ye in truth my brethren are And from one mother spring, Of further mercy I’ll consult With those about the King.”

“Now, Heaven forbid!” cried Gernot. “Far rather death than such disloyalty!”

And Giselher said: “Never yet did I break faith with comrade, nor will I fail to-day in knightly duty.”

Thus was the last spark of affection extinguished in Kriemhild’s bosom. She no longer felt pity even for her own kin, since they had refused to deliver over to her the slayer of her Siegfried and her child. Summoning the Huns, she bade them fire the palace on all sides.

Now was it in truth a night of terror for the Burgundians. Blazing shafts flew on to the roof, and soon it was wrapped in flame. Thick smoke and fiery vapors filled the hall, and the heroes suffered tortures. Gladly would they have welcomed a swift death in battle. Many called on God to pity their distress, and one knight cried out woefully for a drop of water. Hagen shouted: “Keep to the walls, my comrades, and raise your shields aloft!”

And still that dauntless hero, with the brave Volker, kept unceasing watch before the door. At daybreak Volker said to Hagen: “Let us within, and then perchance the watchful Huns will think we have perished.”

And so in truth did Etzel and Queen Kriemhild now believe. Yet still six hundred of them were alive. When this news was brought to Kriemhild she caused a great store of gold to be brought and divided among the Huns, with which to spur their valor. Thereupon a thousand of the boldest rushed to the assault; but though many of the Burgundians too were slain, not one of Kriemhild’s warriors came forth from that dread hall of death to claim his gold.

_Chapter XXXI_

_The Margrave Rüdiger_

Soon thereafter came Sir Rüdiger, and when he beheld the smoking, roofless palace, so filled with sorrow was his noble heart at all the evil wrought and yet to come, that tears fell from his eyes and trickled down his long gray beard. Hoping that something might yet be done to bring about a reconciliation, he sent a message to Dietrich of Bern, saying: “Let us go together unto the King; perchance we may prevail upon him to forego his wrath.”

But Dietrich, who also deeply lamented what had befallen, sent back word that it was useless, for Etzel would not hear of peace on any terms, nor might any venture now to speak thereof to him. As Rüdiger stood leaning on his sword, his mournful gaze fixed upon the Queen, a Hunnish knight observed him and said scornfully to Kriemhild: “See, yonder stands Sir Rüdiger! Etzel hath shown favor to him and richly dowered him with lands and gold, yet hath he not struck a blow in all this strife! Renowned is he for skill and valor. Methinks such fame can be of little worth since we have not seen him display either here.”

Rüdiger overheard these words and was seized with a mighty wrath thereat. Clinching his fist he smote the insolent scoffer with such giant force that he dropped lifeless at his feet.

At that same moment Etzel appeared in the courtyard. “How now, Sir Knight?” he cried, “that is an evil deed of thine. Are there not dead enough, forsooth, that thou shouldst seek to add to them?”

The Queen too was about to reproach him bitterly, when suddenly she bethought her of the vow Rüdiger made to her when he came to Worms to urge King Etzel’s suit. “Bethink thee of thy oath, Sir Rüdiger,” she cried, solemnly. “Didst thou not swear to serve me loyally and faithfully to avenge all my wrongs?”

“That did I truly, most noble lady,” replied Rüdiger, “nor would I fail to risk my life in thy cause. But ’tis my soul that I should lose were I to be at strife with these thy guests, for ’twas as friends I brought them hither to thy court!”

Yet still the Queen demanded vengeance on her foes, and Etzel thereto joined his prayers, till Rüdiger in bitter anguish cried:

“Oh, woe is me, forsaken one, That ever I was born! Oh, woe’s the day, that I must be Of all my honor shorn! Of truth and gentleness of mind Which God to me did give. Oh, God! that I might only die! I fain would cease to live.

“Whichever duty I avoid, The other to fulfil, I’m counted dastardly and base, A worker-out of ill; Yet leave I both of them undone, I with the world have strife. May He vouchsafe to counsel me, Who first did give me life!”

He besought the King to take back all the lands and honors that he held in fee, and let him retire with his followers to his castle, a poor man, rather than force him to attack the friends whom he had welcomed in all love and loyalty, who had slept beneath his roof, and to one of whom indeed his daughter was betrothed. But he pleaded in vain, for Kriemhild firmly held him to his word, while the King promised him still greater riches and honor if he would rid him of his foes.

At last Rüdiger yielded. He agreed to keep his oath and give his life in payment for the kindnesses he had received from his sovereigns; he commended his wife and daughter to their care, then sorrowfully sought his followers and bade them arm for battle with the Burgundians.

When Volker saw the band of knights approaching, his heart sank, but Giselher cried joyfully: “Well for us all was it that I was betrothed to Rüdiger’s daughter, for now our gallant friend comes to bring us peace!”

“Nay, my lord! he who brings peace comes not in this array,” replied Volker.

Pausing before the palace, Rüdiger placed his shield upon the ground, but no friendly greeting did he pay the Burgundians as was his wont. In lieu thereof he renounced his loyalty to them and challenged them to combat. Great was their distress thus to be forced to strife with friends after struggling against so many foes; and Günther cried: “Now Heaven forbid, Sir Knight, that thou shouldst do our friendship such wrong!”

“There is no help for it, alas!” replied Rüdiger, “since the Queen demands of me fulfilment of a vow!”

Then said Gernot: “This sword was thy gift to me, most noble Rüdiger, when thou didst welcome us beneath thy roof; never hath it failed me in time of need, and shall I turn it now against thee, the giver, to bring thy noble wife to widowhood?”

“Would to God that I indeed were dead!” cried Rüdiger. “If thou go safe from hence, full well I know thou wilt bring comfort to my wife and daughter.”

Then commending himself to God, he lifted his shield and was about to rush into the hall, when Hagen shouted to him from the stairway: “Behold, Sir Rüdiger, my sorry plight! This shield, which thy wife gave me in happier hours, hath been so hacked and hewed by hostile Huns that no longer may it serve for my defence. Had I another such as that which thou dost bear, I would go undismayed again to battle!”

Loath as was Rüdiger to give away his own shield under the Queen’s eyes and thereby incur her wrath, his noble heart could not withstand his friend’s appeal, and he bestowed it on Hagen, saying: “Take it, Sir Knight, and mayst thou bear it back to Burgundy in memory of me!”

That Rüdiger so courteously, Did give away his shield, Filled many an eye with gentle tears, And to their hearts appealed. It was his last and dearest gift; No more could bold knight crave In token of the courtesy Of Rüdiger the brave.

However grim Sir Hagen was, Or ill-disposed in mind, The generous gift which Rüdiger So noble and so kind, When near his end had given him, His stubborn heart subdued; While many a lofty knight did sigh, As that brave act he viewed.

Said Hagen: “May the Lord of Heaven Sir Rüdiger protect! When he shall die, his like on earth We may no more expect: For he to homeless, shieldless knight His own defence did give; May God vouchsafe that when no more, His virtues still shall live!”

Then he added: “As for thyself, brave Rüdiger, though thou shouldst slay us every one, yet never shall this sword be raised against thy life.” And this stout Volker also swore.

Seizing his arms, Rüdiger rushed upon the Burgundians and the strife began once more. Hagen and Volker stood aside, nor did Giselher seek to meet his sword; but deep were the wounds it dealt, and many the knights that fell before it. Rüdiger’s liegemen followed him, and soon the hall was filled with the din of battle.

When Gernot saw the terrible havoc Rüdiger’s sword wrought among the Burgundians, he shouted: “I pray thee, cease, Sir Rüdiger! Now must I seek vengeance for my true liegemen thou hast slain and thereby turn thy gift against thyself!”

Therewith they cut their way through the press of battle till they stood face to face. Fast fell the strokes of sword on shield and helm, till Rüdiger, whirling his sword aloft, smote Gernot; and as Gernot received his death wound he grasped his sword with both hands and dealt Rüdiger the mightiest blow that ever he had struck. Both heroes fell, slain at the same moment by each other’s hands.