wounds. Thither both Etzel and Kriemhild went; the land was theirs and so their band waxed large. He spake to the strangers: “Pray tell me, what ye will of me? Ye ween to gain here peace, but that may hardly be. For damage as great as ye have done me, in my son and in my many kinsmen, whom ye have slain, peace and pardon shall be denied you quite; it shall not boot you aught, an’ I remain alive.”
To this King Gunther answered: “Dire need constrained us; all my men-at-arms lay dead before thy heroes in the hostel. How did I deserve such pay? I came to thee in trust, I weened thou wast my friend.”
Young Giselher of Burgundy likewise spake: “Ye men of Etzel, who still do live, what do ye blame me with? What have I done to you, for I rode in friendly wise into this land of yours.”
Quoth they: “From thy friendliness this castle is filled with grief and the land as well. We should not have taken it ill, in sooth, if thou hadst never come from Worms beyond the Rhine. Thou and thy brothers have filled this land with orphans.”
Then spake Knight Giselher in angry mood: “And ye will lay aside this bitter hate and make your peace with us stranger knights, ’twere best for either side. We have not merited at all what Etzel here doth do us.”
Then spake the host to his guests: “Unlike are my wrongs and yours. The mickle grievance from the loss and then the shame, which I have taken here, are such that none of you shall e’er go hence alive.”
At this mighty Gernot spake to the king: “May God then bid you act in merciful wise. Slay, if ye will, us homeless knights, but let us first descend to you into the open court. That will make to you for honor. Let be done quickly whatever shall hap to us. Ye have still many men unscathed, who dare well encounter us and bereave us storm-weary men of life. How long must we warriors undergo these toils?”
King Etzel’s champions had nigh granted this boon and let them leave the hall, but Kriemhild heard it and sorely it misliked her. Therefore the wanderers were speedily denied the truce. “Not so, ye Hunnish men. I counsel you in true fealty, that ye do not what ye have in mind, and let these murderers leave the hall, else must your kinsmen suffer a deadly fall. Did none of them still live, save Uta’s sons, my noble brothers, and they came forth into the breeze and cooled their armor rings, ye would all be lost. Bolder heroes were never born into the world.”
Then spake young Giselher: “Fair sister mine, full evil was my trust, when thou didst invite me from across the Rhine hither to this land, to this dire need. How have I merited death here from the Huns? I was aye true to thee; never did I do thee wrong, and in the hope that thou wast still my friend, dear sister mine, rode I hither to thy court. It cannot be but that thou grant us mercy.”
“I will not grant you mercy, merciless is my mood. Hagen of Troneg hath done me such great wrongs that it may never be amended, the while I live. Ye must all suffer for this deed,” so spake King Etzel’s wife. “And ye will give me Hagen alone as hostage, I will not deny that I will let you live, for ye be my brothers and children of one mother, and will counsel peace with these heroes that be here.”
“Now God in heaven forbid,” spake Gernot; “were there here a thousand of us, the clansmen of thy kin, we’d rather all lie dead, than give thee a single man as hostage. Never shall this be done.”
“We all must die,” spake then Giselher, “but none shall hinder that we guard us in knightly wise. We be still here, if any list to fight us; for never have I failed a friend in fealty.”
Then spake bold Dankwart (it had not beseemed him to have held his peace): “Forsooth my brother Hagen standeth not alone. It may yet rue those who here refuse the truce. I’ll tell you of a truth, we’ll make you ware of this.”
Then spake the queen: “Ye full lusty heroes, now go nigher to the stairs and avenge my wrongs. For this I will ever serve you, as I should by right. I’ll pay Hagen well for his overweening pride. Let none at all escape from the house, and I will bid the hall be set on fire at all four ends. Thus all my wrongs shall be well avenged.”
Soon were King Etzel’s champions ready still stood without into the hall with blows and shots. Mickle waxed the din, yet the lordings and their liegemen would not part. For very fealty they could not leave each other. Etzel’s queen then bade the hall be set on fire, and thus they racked the bodies of the knights with fire and flame. Fanned by the breeze, the whole house burst into flames full soon. I ween, no folk did ever gain such great distress. Enow within cried out: “Alack this plight! We would much rather die in stress of battle. It might move God to pity, how we all are lost! The queen now wreaketh monstrously on us her wrath.”
Quoth one of them within: “We must all lie dead. What avail us now the greetings which the king did send us? Thirst from this great heat giveth me such dole, that soon, I ween, my life must ebb away in anguish.”
Then spake Hagen of Troneg: “Ye noble knights and good, let him whom pangs of thirst constrain, drink here this blood. In such great heat, ’tis better still than wine. We can purvey us at this time none better.”
One of the warriors hied him then to where he found a corpse, and knelt him down beside the wound; then he unbound his helmet and began to drink the flowing blood. However little wont to such a drink, him thought it passing good: “Sir Hagen, now God requite you,” spake the weary man, “that I have drunk so well at your advice; seldom hath better wine been proffered me. And I live yet a while, I shall ever be your friend.”
When now the others heard this, it thought them good, and soon there were many more that drank the blood. From this the body of each gained much of strength; but many a stately dame paid dear for this through the loss of loving kin. Into the hall the fire fell thick and fast upon them, but with their shields they turned it from them to the ground. Both the heat and the smoke did hurt them sore; in sooth, I ween, that nevermore will such anguish hap to heroes.
Again Hagen of Troneg spake: “Stand by the sides of the hall. Let not the firebrands fall upon your helmet bands, but stamp them with your feet down deeper in the blood. Forsooth it is an evil feast which the queen doth give us here.”
In such dire woes the night did wear away at last, and still the brave minstrel and his comrade Hagen stood before the hall, a-leaning on their shields. More scathe they awaited from those of Etzel’s band. Then spake the fiddler: “Now go we into the hall. Then the Huns will ween, that we all be dead from the torture that hath been done us here. They’ll yet see us go to meet them in the strife.”
Now spake Giselher of Burgundy, the youth: “I trow the day dawneth, a cooling wind doth blow. May God in heaven let us live to see a liefer time, for my sister Kriemhild hath given us here an evil feast.”
Again one spake: “I see the day . Sith we cannot hope for better things, so arm you, heroes, think on your life. Certes, King Etzel’s wife will come to meet us soon again.”
The host weened well, that his guests were dead from their toil and the pangs of fire; but yet within the hall six hundred brave men, as good as any knight that king ever gained, were still alive. Those set to guard the strangers had well seen that the guests still lived, despite the damage and the dole that had been done both to the lordings and their men. In the hall one saw them stand full safe and sound. They then told Kriemhild that many were still alive, but the queen replied: “It could never be, that any should have lived through such stress of fire. Rather will I believe that all lie dead.”
The lordings and their men would still fain have lived, had any listed to do them mercy, but they could find none among those of the Hunnish land. So with full willing hand they avenged their dying. On this same day, towards morning, men proffered them a fierce attack as greeting, which brought the champions in stress again. Many a stout spear was hurled upon them, but the bold and lordly warriors warded them in knightly wise. High rose the mood of Etzel’s men at the thought that they should earn Queen Kriemhild’s gold. Thereto they were minded to perform whatso the King did bid them. Many of them because of this must soon needs gaze on death. Of pledges and of gifts one might tell wonders. She bade the ruddy gold be carried forth on shields and gave it to whomsoever craved it and would take it. Certes, greater wage was nevermore given against foes. To the hall a mickle force of well-armed warriors marched.
Then cried bold Folker: “We’re here again, ye see. Never saw I heroes more gladly come to fight than these that have taken the king’s gold to do us scathe.”
Then enow did call: “Nearer, heroes, nearer, that we may do betimes what we must bring to an end. Here dieth none that is not doomed to die.”
Soon their shields were seen sticking full of darts that had been thrown. What more can I say? Full twelve hundred men tried hard to match them, surging back and forth. The strangers cooled well their mood with wounds. None might part the strife, and so blood was seen to flow from mortal wounds, many of which were dealt. Each one was heard to wail for friends. All the great king’s doughty warriors died, and loving kinsmen mourned them passing sore.
ADVENTURE XXXVII
How Margrave Rudeger Was Slain.
The strangers had done full well at dawn. Meanwhile Gotelind’s husband came to court. Bitterly faithful Rudeger wept when he saw the grievous wounds on either side. “Woe is me,” quoth the champion, “that I was ever born, sith none may stay this mickle grief! However fain I would make for peace, the king will not consent, for he seeth ever more and more the sufferings of his men.”
Then the good Knight Rudeger sent to Dietrich, if perchance they might turn the fate of the high-born kings. The king of Berne sent answer: “Who might now forfend? King Etzel will let none part the strife.”
Then a Hunnish warrior, that saw Rudeger stand with weeping eyes, and many tears had he shed, spake to the queen: “Now behold how he doth stand, that hath the greatest power at Etzel’s court and whom both lands and people serve. Why have so many castles been given to Rudeger, of which he doth hold such store from the king in fief? Not one sturdy stroke hath he dealt in all this strife. Methinks, he recketh not how it fare here at court, sith he hath his will in full. Men say of him, he be bolder than any other wight. Little hath that been seen in these parlous (1) days.”
Sad in heart the faithful vassal gazed at him whom he heard thus speak. Him-thought: “Thou shalt pay for this. Thou sayest, I be a craven, and hast told thy tale too loud at court.”
His fist he clenched, then ran he at him and smote the Hunnish man so mightily that he lay dead at his feet full soon. Through this King Etzel’s woe grew greater.
“Away, thou arrant coward,” cried Rudeger, “forsooth I have enow of grief and pain, How dost thou taunt me, that I fight not here? Certes, I have good cause to hate the strangers, and would have done all in my power against them, had I not led the warriors hither. Of a truth I was their safeguard to my master’s land. Therefore the hand of me, wretched man, may not strive against them.”
Then spake Etzel, the noble king, to the margrave: “How have ye helped us, most noble Rudeger! We have so many fey (2) in the land, that we have no need of more. Full evil have ye done.”
At this the noble knight made answer: “Forsooth he grieved my mood and twitted me with the honors and the goods, such store of which I have received from thy hand. This hath cost the liar dear.”
The queen, too, was come and had seen what fortuned to the Huns through the hero’s wrath. Passing sore she bewailed it; her eyes grew moist as she spake to Rudeger: “How have we deserved that ye should increase the sorrows of the king and me? Hitherto ye have told us, that for our sake ye would risk both life and honor. I heard full many warriors accord to you the palm. Let me mind you of your fealty and that ye swore, when that ye counseled me to Etzel, good knight and true, that ye would serve me till one of us should die. Never have I, poor woman, had such great need of this.”
“There’s no denying that I swore to you, my lady, for your sake I’d risk both life and honor, but I did not swear that I would lose my soul. ‘Twas I that bade the high-born lordings to this feast.”
Quoth she: “Bethink thee, Rudeger, of thy great fealty, of thy constancy, and of thine oaths, that thou wouldst ever avenge mine injuries and all my woes.”
Said the margrave: “Seldom have I denied you aught.”
Mighty Etzel, too, began implore; upon their knees they sank before the knight. Men saw the noble margrave stand full sad. Pitifully the faithful warrior spake: “Woe is me, most wretched man, that I have lived to see this day. I must give over all my honors, my fealty, and my courtesie, that God did bid me use. Alas, great God of heaven, that death will not turn this from me! I shall act basely and full evil, whatever I do or leave undone. But if I give over both, then will all people blame me. Now may he advise me, who hath given me life.”
Still the king and the queen, too, begged unceasingly. Through this warriors must needs thereafter lose their lives at Rudeger’s hands, when the hero also died. Ye may well hear it now, that he deported him full pitifully. He wist that it would bring him scathe and monstrous woe. Gladly would he have refused the king and queen. He feared full sore that if he slew but one of the strangers, the world would bear him hate.
Then the brave man addressed him to the king: “Sir King, take back again all that I have from you, my land with its castles, let not a whit remain to me. On foot will I wander into other lands.”
At this King Etzel spake: “Who else should help me then? I’ll give thee the land and all its castles, as thine own, that thou mayst avenge me on my foes. Thou shalt be a mighty king at Etzel’s side.”
Then answered Rudeger: “How shall I do this deed? I bade them to my house and home; in friendly wise I offered them both food and drink and gave them gifts. How may I counsel their death? People will lightly ween, that I be craven. No service of mine have I refused these noble lordings and their men. Now I rue the kinship I have gained with them. I gave my daughter to Giselher, the knight; to none in all the world could she have been better given, for courtesie and honor, for fealty and wealth. Never have I seen so young a prince of such right courteous mind.”
Then Kriemhild spake again: “Most noble Rudeger, take pity on our griefs, on mine and on the king’s. Bethink thee well, that king did never gain such baneful guests.”
To the noble dame the margrave spake: “Rudeger’s life must pay to-day for whatsoever favors ye and my lord have shown me. Therefore must I die; no longer may it be deferred. I know full well, that my castles and my lands will be voided for you to-day through the hand of one of these men. To your mercy I commend my wife and children and the strangers (3) who be at Bechelaren.”
“Now God requite thee, Rudeger,” spake the king, and both he and the queen grew glad. “Thy people shall be well commended to our care. For mine own weal I trust thou too shalt go unscathed.”
Etzel’s bride began to weep. Then body and soul he staked upon the venture. He spake: “I must perform what I have vowed. Alas for my friends, whom I am loth to fight.”
Men saw him go sadly from the presence of the king. Close at hand he found his warriors standing. He spake: “Ye must arm you all, my men, for, alas, I must needs encounter the bold Burgundians.”
They bade the squires run nimbly to where lay their arms. Whether it were helm or buckler, ’twas all brought forth to them by their meiny. Later the proud strangers heard told baleful tales. Rudeger was now armed, and with him five hundred men; thereto he gained twelve champions, who would fain win renown in the stress of battle. They wist not that death drew nigh them. Then Rudeger was seen to march with helmet donned. The margrave’s men bare keen-edged swords, and their bright shields and broad upon their arms. This the fiddler saw; greatly he rued the sight. When young Giselher beheld his lady’s father walk with his helm upon his head, how might he know what he meant thereby, save that it portended good? Therefore the noble prince waxed passing merry of mood.
“Now well is me of such kinsmen,” spake Knight Giselher, “whom we have won upon this journey; from my wife we shall reap much profit here. Lief it is to me, that this betrothal hath taken place.”
“I know not whence ye take your comfort,” spake then the minstrel; “when have ye seen so many heroes walk with helmets donned and swords in hand, for the sake of peace? Rudeger doth think to win his castles and his lands in fight with us.”
Or ever the fiddler had ended his speech, men saw the noble Rudeger before the house. At his feet he placed his trusty shield, and now both service and greeting he must needs refuse his friends. Into the hall the noble margrave called: “Ye doughty Nibelungs, now guard you well on every side. Ye were to profit by me, now I shall bring you scathe. Aforetime we were friends, but of this troth I now would fain be rid.”
The hard-pressed men were startled at this tale, for none gained aught of joy, that he whom they did love would now fain fight them. From their foes they had already suffered mickle stress of war. “Now God of heaven forbid,” spake Gunther, the knight, “that ye should give over your love of us and your great fealty, on which we counted of a truth. Better things I trow of you, than that ye should ever do this deed.”
“Alas, I cannot give it over, but must fight you, for I have vowed it. Now ward you, brave heroes, and ye love your life. King Etzel’s wife would not release me from mine oath.”
“Ye declare this feud too late,” spake the highborn king. “Now may God requite you, most noble Rudeger, for all the love and fealty that ye have shown us, if ye would only act more kindly at the end. I and my kinsmen, we ought ever to serve you for the noble gifts ye gave us, when ye brought us hither faithfully to Etzel’s land. Now, noble Rudeger, think on this.”
“How gladly would I grant you,” spake Knight Rudeger, “that I might weigh out my gifts for you with full measure, as willingly as I had hoped, if I never should be blamed on that account.”
“Turn back, noble Rudeger,” spake then Gernot, “for host did never give his guests such loving cheer as ye did us. This shall profit you well, and we remain alive.”
“Would to God,” spake Rudeger, “most noble Gernot, that ye were on the Rhine and I were dead with passing honor, sith I must now encounter you! Never did friends act worse to heroes.”
“Now God requite you, Sir Rudeger,” answered Gernot, “for your passing rich gifts. Your death doth rue me, if such knightly virtues shall be lost with you. Here I bear your sword that ye gave me, good knight and true. It hath never failed me in all this need. Many a knight fell dead beneath its edges. It is bright and steady, glorious and good; nevermore, I ween, will warrior give so rich a gift. And will ye not turn back, but come to meet us, and slay aught of the friends I still have here, with your own sword will I take your life. Then will ye rue me, Rudeger, ye and your high-born wife.”
“Would to God, Sir Gernot, that this might come to pass, that all your will might here be done, and that your kinsmen escaped unscathed! Then both my daughter and my wife may trust you well, forsooth.”
Then of the Burgundians there spake fair Uta’s son: “Why do ye so, Sir Rudeger? Those that be come with us, do all like you well. Ye encounter us in evil wise; ye wish to make your fair daughter a widow far too soon. If ye and your warriors match me now with strife, how right unkindly do ye let it appear, that I trust you well above all other men and therefore won me your daughter to wife.”
“Think on your fealty, most noble and high-born king. And God let you escape,” so spake Rudeger, “let the maiden suffer not for me. For your own virtue’s sake, vouchsafe her mercy.”
“That I should do by right,” spake the youthful Giselher, “but if my noble kinsmen here within must die through you, then my steadfast friendship for you and for your daughter must be parted.”
“Now may God have mercy on us,” answered the valiant man. Then they raised their shields, as though they would hence to fight the guests in Kriemhild’s hall, but Hagen cried full loud adown the steps. “Pray tarry awhile, most noble Rudeger,” so spake Hagen; “I and my lords would fain have further parley, as doth befit our need. What can the death of us wanderers avail King Etzel? I stand here in a fearful plight; the shield that Lady Gotelind gave me to bear hath been cut to pieces by the Huns. I brought it with friendly purpose into Etzel’s land. O that God in heaven would grant, that I might bear so good a shield as that thou hast in thy hand, most noble Rudeger! Then I should no longer need a hauberk in the fray.”
“Gladly would I serve thee with my shield, durst I offer it before Kriemhild. Yet take it, Hagen, and bear it on thine arm. Ho, if thou couldst only wield it in the Burgundian land!”
When he so willingly offered to give the shield, enow of eyes grew red with scalding tears. ‘T was the last gift that ever Rudeger of Bechelaren gave to any knight. However fierce Hagen, and however stern of mood, the gift did touch him, which the good hero, so near to death, had given. Many a noble knight gan mourn with him.
“Now God in heaven requite you, most noble Rudeger. Your like will nevermore be found, who giveth homeless warriors such lordly gifts. God grant that your courtesie may ever live.” Again Hagen spake: “Woe is me of these tales, we had so many other griefs to bear. Let complaint be made to heaven, if we must fight with friends.”
Quoth the margrave: “Inly doth this grieve me.”
“Now God requite you, for the gift, most noble Rudeger. Howso these high-born warriors deport them toward you, my hand shall never touch you in the fight, and ye slew them all from the Burgundian land.”
Courteously the good Sir Rudeger bowed him low. On every side they wept, that none might soothe this pain of heart. That was a mighty grief. In Rudeger would die the father of all knightly virtues.
Then Folker, the minstrel, spake from out the hall: “Sith my comrade Hagen hath made his peace with you, ye shall have it just as steadfastly from my hand, for well ye earned it, when we came into this land. Most noble margrave, ye shall be mine envoy, too. The margravine gave me these ruddy arm rings, that I should wear them here at the feasting. These ye may yourself behold, that ye may later be my witness.”
“Now God of heaven grant,” spake Rudeger, “that the margravine may give you more! I’ll gladly tell these tales to my dear love, if I see her in health again. Of this ye shall not doubt.”
When he had vowed him this, Rudeger raised high his shield. No longer he bided, but with raging mood, like a berserker, he rushed upon the guests. Many a furious blow the noble margrave struck. The twain, Folker and Hagen, stepped further back, as they had vowed to him afore. Still he found standing by the tower such valiant men, that Rudeger began the fight with anxious doubts. With murderous intent Gunther and Gernot let him in, good heroes they! Giselher stood further back, which irked him sore, in truth. He voided Rudeger, for still he had hope of life. Then the margrave’s men rushed at their foes; in knightly wise one saw them follow their lord. In their hands they bare their keen-edged swords, the which cleft there many a helm and lordly shield. The tired warriors dealt the men of Bechelaren many a mighty blow, that cut smooth and deep through the shining mail, down to the very quick.
Rudeger’s noble fellowship was now come quite within. Into the fight Folker and Hagen sprang anon. They gave no quarter, save to one man alone. Through the hands of the twain the blood streamed down from the helmets. How grimly rang the many swords within! The shield plates sprang from their fastenings, and the precious stones, cut from the shields, fell down into the gore. So grimly they fought, that men will never do the like again. The lord of Bechelaren raged to and fro, as one who wotteth how to use great prowess in the fray. Passing like to a worshipful champion and a bold did Rudeger bear him on that day. Here stood the warriors, Gunther and Gernot, and smote many a hero dead in the fray. Giselher and Dankwart, the twain, recked so little, that they brought full many a knight to his last day of life. Full well did Rudeger make appear that he was strong enow, brave and well-armed. Ho, what knights he slew! This a Burgundian espied; perforce it angered him, and thus Sir Rudeger’s death drew near.
The stalwart Gernot accosted the hero; to the margrave he spake: “It appeareth, ye will not leave my men alive, most noble Rudeger. That irketh me beyond all measure, no longer can I bear the sight. So may your present work you harm, sith ye have taken from me such store of friends. Pray address you unto me, most noble man and brave, your gift shall be paid for as best I can.”
Or ever the margrave could reach his foe, bright armor rings must needs grow dull with blood. Then at each other sprang these honor-seeking men. Either gan guard him against mighty wounds. So sharp were their swords, that naught might avail against them. Then Rudeger, the knight, smote Gernot a buffet through his helmet, the which was as hard as flint, so that the blood gushed forth. But this the bold knight and good repaid eftsoon. High in his hand he now poised Rudeger’s gift, and though wounded unto death, he smote him a stroke through his good and trusty shield down to his helmet band. And so fair Gotelind’s husband was done to death. Certes, so rich a gift was never worse repaid. So fell alike both Gernot and Rudeger, slain in the fray, through each other’s hand.
Then first waxed Hagen wroth, when he saw the monstrous scathe. Quoth the hero of Troneg: “Evil hath it fared with us. In these two men we have taken a loss so great that neither their land nor people will e’er recover from the blow. Rudeger’s champions must answer to us homeless men.”
“Alas for my brother, who hath here been done to death. What evil tales I hear all time! Noble Rudeger, too, must ever rue me. The loss and the grievous wounds are felt on either side.”
When Lord Giselher saw his betrothed’s father dead, those within the hall were forced to suffer need. Fiercely death sought his fellowship; not one of those of Bechelaren escaped with life. Gunther and Giselher and Hagen, too, Dankwart and Folker, the right good knights, went to where they found the two men lying. Then by these heroes tears of grief were shed.
“Death doth sorely rob us,” spake Giselher, the youth. “Now give over your weeping and go we bite the breeze, that the mailed armor of us storm-weary men may cool. Certes, I ween, that God in heaven vouchsafeth us no more to live.”
This champion was seen to sit and that to lean against the wall, but all again were idle. Rudeger’s heroes lay still in death. The din had died away; the hush endured so long, it vexed King Etzel.
“Alack for such services,” spake the queen. “They be not so true, that our foes must pay with their life at Rudeger’s hands. I trow, he doth wish to lead them back to the Burgundian land. What booteth it, King Etzel, that we have given him whatso he would? The knight hath done amiss, he who should avenge us, doth make his peace.”
To this Folker, the full dapper knight, made answer: “This is not true, alas, most noble queen. Durst I give the lie to such a high-born dame, then had ye most foully lied against Rudeger. He and his champions be cozened in this peace. So eagerly he did what the king commanded, that he and all his fellowship lie here in death. Now look around you, Kriemhild, to see whom ye may now command. The good Knight Rudeger hath served you to his end. And ye will not believe the tale, we’ll let you see.”
To their great grief ’twas done; they bare the slain hero to where the king might see him. Never had there happed to Etzel’s men a grief so great. When they saw the margrave borne forth dead, no scribe might write or tell the frantic grief of men and women, which there gan show itself from dole of heart. King Etzel’s sorrow waxed so great that the mighty king did voice his woe of heart, as with a lion’s roar. Likewise did his queen. Beyond all measure they bewailed the good Knight Rudeger’s death.
ENDNOTES:
(1) “Parlous”, older English for ‘perilous’. (2) “Fey”, ‘doomed to death’, here in the sense of ‘already slain’. See Adventure V, note 2.
(3) “Strangers”, i.e., those who are sojourning there far from home.
ADVENTURE XXXVIII
How All Sir Dietrich’s Warriors Were Slain.
On every side one heard a grief so great, that the palace and the towers rang with the wailing. Then a liegeman of Dietrich heard it, too. how quickly he gan haste him with the fearful tales! To the lording he spake: “Hear, my lord, Sir Dietrich, however much I’ve lived to see till now, yet heard I never such a monstrous wail, as now hath reached mine ears. I ween, King Etzel himself hath come to grief. How else might all be so distressed? One of the twain, the king or Kriemhild, hath sorely been laid low by the brave strangers in their wrath. Full many a dapper warrior weepeth passing sore.”
Then spake the Knight of Borne: “My faithful men, now haste ye not too fast. Whatever the homeless warriors may have done, they be now in mickle need. Let it profit them, that I did offer them my peace.”
At this brave Wolfhart spake: “I will hie me hence and ask for tidings of what they have done, and will tell you then, my most dear lord, just as I find it, what the wail may be.”
Then spake Sir Dietrich: “Where one awaiteth wrath, and rude questions then are put, this doth lightly sadden the lofty mood of warriors. In truth, I will not, Wolfhart, that ye ask these questions of them.”
Then he told Helfrich (1) to hasten thither speedily, and bade him find from Etzel’s men or from the guests themselves, what there had fortuned, for men had never seen from folks so great a grief. The messenger gan ask: “What hath here been done?”
At this one among them spake: “Whatever of joy we had in the Hunnish land hath passed away. Here lieth Rudeger, slain by the Burgundians’ hands; and of those who were come with him, not one hatch ‘scaped alive.”
Sir Helfrich could never have had a greater dole. Sorely weeping, the envoy went to Dietrich. Never was he so loth to tell a tale. “What have ye found for us?” quoth Dietrich. “Why weep ye so sore, Knight Helfrich?”
Then spake the noble champion: “I have good cause for wail. The Burgundians have slain the good Sir Rudeger.”
At this the hero of Berne made answer: “Now God forbid. That were a fearful vengeance, over which the foul fiend would gloat. Wherewith hath Rudeger deserved this at their hands? I know full well, forsooth, he is the strangers’ friend.”
To this Wolfhart answered: “And have they done this deed, ’twill cost them all their lives. ‘Twould be our shame, should we let this pass, for of a truth the hand of the good knight Rudeger hath served us much and oft.”
The lord of the Amelungs bade learn it better. In bitter grief he sate him at a window and begged Hildebrand to hie him to the strangers, that he might find from them what had been done. The storm-brave warrior, Master Hildebrand, (2) bare neither shield nor weapon in his hand. In courtly wise he would hie him to the strangers; for this he was chided by his sister’s son. Grim Wolfhart spake: “And ye will go thither so bare, ye will never fare without upbraiding; ye must return with shame. But if ye go there armed, each will guard against that well.”
Then the wise man armed him, through the counsel of youth. Or ever he was ware, all Dietrich’s warriors had donned their war-weeds and held in their hands their swords. Loth it was to the hero, and he would have gladly turned their mind. He asked whither they would go.
“We will hence with you. Perchance Hagen of Troneg then will dare the less to address him to you with scorn, which full well he knoweth how to use.” When he heard this, the knight vouchsafed them for to go.
Soon brave Folker saw the champions of Berne, the liegemen of Dietrich, march along, well armed, begirt with swords, while in their hands they bare their shields. He told it to his lords from out the Burgundian land. The fiddler spake: “Yonder I see the men of Dietrich march along in right hostile wise, armed cap-a-pie. They would encounter us; I ween ’twill go full ill with us strangers.”
Meanwhile Sir Hildebrand was come. Before his feet he placed his shield, and gan ask Gunther’s men: “Alas, good heroes, what had Rudeger done you? My Lord Dietrich hath sent me hither to you to say, that if the hand of any among you hath slain the noble margrave, as we are told, we could never stand such mighty dole.”
Then spake Hagen of Troneg: “The tale is true. How gladly could I wish, that the messenger had told you false, for Rudeger’s sake, and that he still did live, for whom both man and wife may well ever weep.”
When they heard aright that he was dead, the warriors made wail for him, as their fealty bade them. Over the beards and chins of Dietrich’s champions the tears were seen to run. Great grief had happened to them.
Siegstab, (3) the Duke of Berne, then spake: “Now hath come to an end the cheer, that Rudeger did give us after our days of dole. The joy of all wayfaring folk lieth slain by you, sir knights.”
Then spake the Knight Wolfwin (4) of the Amelungs: “And I saw mine own father dead to-day, I should not make greater dole, than for his death. Alas, who shall now comfort the good margrave’s wife?”
Angry of mood Knight Wolfhart spake: “Who shall now lead the warriors to so many a fight, as the margrave so oft hath done? Alas, most noble Rudeger, that we should lose thee thus!”
Wolfbrand (5) and Helfrich and Helmnot, too, with all their men bewailed his death. For sighing Hildebrand might no longer ask a whit. He spake: “Sir knights, now do what my lord hath sent you here to do. Give us the corse of Rudeger from out the hall, in whom our joy hath turned to grief, and let us repay to him the great fealty he hath shown to us and to many another man. We, too, be exiles, just as Rudeger, the knight. Why do ye let us wait thus? Let us bear him away, that we may yet requite the knight in death. More justly had we done it, when he was still alive.”
Then spake King Gunther: “Never was there so good a service as that, which a friend doth do to a friend after his death. When any doeth that, I call it faithful friendship. Ye repay him but rightly, for much love hath he ever shown you.”
“How long shall we still beseech?” spake Knight Wolfhart. “Sith our best hope hath been laid low in death by you, and we may no longer have him with us, let us bear him hence to where the warrior may be buried.”
To this Folker made answer: “None will give him to you. Fetch ye him from the hall where the warrior lieth, fallen in the blood, with mortal wounds. ‘Twill then be a perfect service, which ye render Rudeger.”
Quoth brave Wolfhart: “God wot, sir minstrel, ye have given us great dole and should not rouse our ire. But that I durst not for fear of my lord, ye should all fare ill. We must perforce abstain, sith he forbade us strife.”
Then spake the fiddler: “He hath a deal too much fear who doth abstain from all that one forbiddeth him. That I call not a real hero’s mood.” This speech of his war comrade thought Hagen good.
“Long not for that,” answered Wolfhart, “or I’ll play such havoc with your fiddle strings, that ye’ll have cause to tell the tale, when ye ride homeward to the Rhine. I cannot brook in honor your overweening pride.”
Quoth the fiddler: “If ye put out of tune my strings, then must the gleam of your helmet grow dim from this hand of mine, however I ride to the Burgundian land.”
Then would he leap at him, but his uncle Hildebrand grasped him firmly. “I ween, thou wouldst rage in thy silly anger. Then hadst thou lost forever the favor of my lord.”
“Let go the lion, master, he is so fierce of mood,” quoth the good knight Folker. “Had he slain the whole world with his one hand, I’ll smite him, and he come within my reach, so that he may never sing the answer to my song.”
At this the men of Berne waxed passing wroth of mood. Wolfhart, a doughty knight and a good, snatched up his shield. Like a wild lion he ran to meet him, swiftly followed by all his friends. But howsoever great the strides he took towards the hall, yet did old Hildebrand overtake him at the steps. He would not let him reach the fray before him. At the hands of the homeless knights they later found the strife they sought. Master Hildebrand then sprang at Hagen. In the hands of both one heard the swords ring out. That both were angry, might be plainly seen; from the swords of the twain streamed forth a blast of fire-red sparks. Then they were parted in the stress of battle by the men of Berne, as their strength did bid them. At once Hildebrand turned him away from Hagen, but stout Wolfhart addressed him to Folker the bold. Such a blow he smote the fiddler upon his good helmet, that the sword’s edge pierced to the very helmet bands. This the bold gleeman repaid with might; he smote Wolfhart, so that the sparks flew wide. Enow of fire they struck from the armor rings, for each bare hatred to the other. Then Knight Wolfwin of Berne did part them — an’ he be not a hero, never was there one.
With willing hand Gunther, the champion, greeted the heroes of the Amelung land. Lord Giselher made many a gleaming helmet red and wot with blood. Dankwart, Hagen’s brother, a fierce man was he; whatever he had done before to Etzel’s warriors in strife was as a wind to the fury with which bold Aldrian’s son now fought. Ritschart (6) and Gerbart, Helfrich and Wichart had spared themselves full seldom in many battle storms; this they now made Gunther’s liegemen note full well. Wolfbrand, too, was seen in the strife bearing him in lordly wise. Old Hildebrand fought as though he raged. At Wolfhart’s hands many good knights, struck by the sword, must needs fall dead down into the blood. Thus the bold champions and good avenged Knight Rudeger.
Then Lord Siegstab fought as his prowess bade him. Ho, what good helmets of his foes this son of Dietrich’s sister clove in the strife! Nor might he ever do better in the fray. When sturdy Folker espied that bold Siegstab hewed a bloody stream from the hard armor rings, wroth of mood the hero grew. He sprang to meet him, and Siegstab lost his life full soon at the fiddler’s hands, for Folker gave him such a sample of his art, that he soon lay dead, slain by his sword. This old Hildebrand avenged, as his might did bid him.
“Alas for my dear lord,” spake Master Hildebrand, “who lieth here dead at Folker’s hands. Now shall the fiddler no longer live.”
How might bold Hildebrand ever be fiercer? Folker he smote, so that on all sides the clasps flew to the walls of the hall from helmet and shield of the doughty gleeman. Thus stout Folker was done to death. At this the men of Dietrich pressed forward to the strife. They smote so that the armor rings whirled far and wide, and high through the air the sword-points wore seen to fly. From the helmets they drew the warm gushing stream of blood. When Hagen of Troneg saw Folker dead, that was the greatest sorrow, that he had gained at the feasting in kinsman or in liegeman. Alas, how fiercely Hagen gan venge the knight! “Now old Hildebrand shall not profit by this deed. My helpmate lieth slain by the hero’s hand, the best war comrade that I did ever win.” Higher he raised his helmet, and ran, slashing as he went.
Stout Helfrich slew Dankwart. Loth enow it was to Gunther and Giselher, when they saw him fall in cruel need, but with his own hands he himself had well avenged his death. Meanwhile Wolfhart raged back and forth, hewing alway King Gunther’s men. For the third time he was come through the hall, and many a warrior fell, struck by his hands.
Then Lord Giselher cried out to Wolfhart: “Alas, that I have ever gained so grim a foe! Noble knight and brave, now address you unto me. I’ll help to make an end; this may be no longer.”
At this Wolfhart turned him in strife to Giselher, and each smote other many a gaping wound. He pressed so mightily toward the king, that the blood beneath his feet spurted high above his head. With grim and fearful blows the son of fair Uta then greeted the brave knight Wolfhart. However strong the warrior, he might not save his life. Never could so young a king have been more brave; Wolfhart he smote through his stout hauberk, that his blood streamed down from the wound. Unto death he wounded Dietrich’s liegeman. None save a champion had done such deed. When brave Wolfhart felt the wound, he let fall his shield and lifted higher in his hand his mighty sword (sharp enow it was); through both helmet and armor rings the hero smote Giselher. Thus each did other fiercely unto death.
Now was none left of Dietrich’s men. Old Hildebrand saw Wolfhart fall; never before his death, I ween, did such dole happen to him. The men of Gunther all lay dead, and those of Dietrich, too. Hildebrand hied him to where Wolfhart had fallen in the gore, and clasped in his arms the brave knight and good. He would fain bear him from the hall, but he was a deal too heavy, and so he must needs let him lie. Then the dying warrior looked upward from the blood in which he lay; well he saw, that his uncle would fain help him hence. Though wounded unto death, he spake: “Dear uncle mine, ye may not aid me now. ‘Tis well, methinks, that ye should guard you against Hagen. A fierce mood he beareth in his heart. And if perchance my kinsmen would mourn me after I am dead; pray tell the nearest and the best, that they weep not for me; there is no need of that. At the hands of a king I have met a glorious death and have also avenged me, so that the wives of the good knights may well bewail it. If any ask you of this, ye may boldly say, that full a hundred lie slain by my hand alone.”
Then Hagen, too, bethought him of the gleeman, whom bold Hildebrand had robbed of life. To the knight he spake: “Ye’ll requite me now my sorrows. Through your hatred ye have bereft us of many a lusty knight.”
He dealt Hildebrand such a blow, that men heard Balmung ring, the which bold Hagen had taken from Siegfried, when he slew the knight. Then the old man warded him; in sooth he was brave enow. Dietrich’s champion struck with a broad sword, that cut full sore, at the hero of Troneg, but could not wound King Gunther’s liegeman. Hagen, however, smote him through his well-wrought hauberk. When old Hildebrand felt the wound, he feared more scathe at Hagen’s hand; his shield he slung across his back and thus Sir Dietrich’s man escaped from Hagen, though sorely wounded.
Now of all the knights none was alive save the twain, Gunther and Hagen alone. Dripping with blood old Hildebrand went to where he found Dietrich, and told him the baleful tale. He saw him sitting sadly, but much more of dole the prince now gained. He spied Hildebrand in his blood-red hauberk, and asked him tidings, as his fears did prompt him.
“Now tell me, Master Hildebrand, how be ye so wot with your lifeblood? Pray who hath done you this? I ween, ye have fought with the strangers in the hall. I forbade it you so sorely, that ye should justly have avoided it.”
Then said he to his lord: “‘Twas Hagen that did it. He dealt me this wound in the hall, when I would fain have turned me from the knight. I scarce escaped the devil with my life.”
Then spake the Lord of Berne: “Rightly hath it happed you, for that ye have broken the peace, which I had sworn them, sith ye did hear me vow friendship to the knights. Were it not mine everlasting shame, ye should lose your life.”
“My Lord Dietrich, now be ye not so wroth; the damage to my friends and me is all too great. Fain would we have carried Rudeger’s corse away, but King Gunther’s liegemen would not grant it us.”
“Woe is me of these sorrows! If Rudeger then be dead, ’twill bring me greater dole, than all my woe. Noble Gotelind is the child of my father’s sister; alas for the poor orphans, that be now in Bechelaren.”
Rudeger’s death now minded him of ruth and dole. Mightily the hero gan weep; in sooth he had good cause. “Alas for this faithful comrade whom I have lost! In truth I shall ever mourn for King Etzel’s liegeman. Can ye tell me, Master Hildebrand, true tidings, who be the knight, that hath slain him there?”
Quoth he: “That stout Gernot did, with might and main, but the hero, too, fell dead at Rudeger’s hands.”
Again he spake to Hildebrand: “Pray say to my men, that they arm them quickly, for I will hie me hither, and bid them make ready my shining battle weeds. I myself will question the heroes of the Burgundian land.”
Then spake Master Hildebrand: “Who then shall join you? Whatso of living men ye have, ye see stand by you. ‘Tis I alone; the others, they be dead.”
He started at this tale; forsooth, he had good cause, for never in his life had he gained so great a grief. He spake: “And are my men all dead, then hath God forgotten me, poor Dietrich. Once I was a lordly king, mighty, high, and rich.” Again Sir Dietrich spake: “How could it hap, that all the worshipful heroes died at the hands of the battle-weary, who were themselves hard pressed? Were it not for mine ill-luck, death were still a stranger to them. Sith then mine evil fortune would have it so, pray tell me, are any of the strangers still alive?”
Then spake Master Hildebrand: “God wet, none other save only Hagen and Gunther, the high-born king.”
“Alas, dear Wolfhart, and I have lost thee too, then may it well rue me, that ever I was born. Siegstab and Wolfwin and Wolfbrand, too! Who then shall help me to the Amelung land? Bold Helfrich, hath he, too, been slain, and Gerbart and Wiehart? How shall I ever mourn for them in fitting wise? This day doth forever end my joys. Alas, that none may die for very grief!”
ENDNOTES:
(1) “Helfrich” appears also in the “Thidreksaga”, chap. 330, where we are told that he was the bravest and courtliest of all knights.
(2) “Master Hildebrand”, see Adventure XXVIII, note 1. (3) “Siegstab” is Dietrich’s nephew. He also appears in the “Thidreksaga”, but in a different role. (4) “Wolfwin” is mentioned in the “Klage”, 1541, as Dietrich’s nephew.
(5) “Wolfbrand” and “Helmnot” appear only here. (6) “Ritschart”. With the exception of Helfrich (see Above note 1), these names do not occur elsewhere, though one of the sons of Haimon was called Wichart.
ADVENTURE XXXIX
How Gunther And Hagen And Kriemhild Were Slain.
Then Sir Dietrich fetched himself his coat of mail, and Master Hildebrand helped him arm. The mighty man made wail so sore, that the whole house resounded with his voice. But then he gained again a real hero’s mood. The good knight was now armed and grim of mind; a stout shield he hung upon his arm. Thus he and Master Hildebrand went boldly hence.
Then spake Hagen of Troneg: “Yonder I see Sir Dietrich coming hither; he would fain encounter us, after the great sorrow, that hath here befallen him. To-day we shall see, to whom one must give the palm. however strong of body and grim of mood the lord of Berne thinketh him to be, right well dare I match him,” so spake Hagen, “an’ he will avenge on us that which hath been done him.”
Dietrich and Hildebrand heard this speech, for Hagen came to where he found the champion stand before the house, leaning against the wall. Dietrich set his good shield upon the ground, and spake in grievous dole: “Gunther, mighty king, why have ye so acted against me, banished man? What have I done to you? I stand alone, bereft of all my comfort. Ye thought it not enow of bitter need, when ye did kill Knight Rudeger, our friend. Now ye have robbed me of all my men. Forsooth I never had wrought you heroes sorrow such as this. Think on yourselves and on your wrongs. Doth not the death of your kinsmen and all the hardship grieve the minds of you good knights? Alas, what great dole Rudeger’s death doth give me! Never in all the world hath more of sorrow happed to any man. Ye thought but little on me and on your pain. Whatsoever joy I had, that lieth slain by you. Certes, I never can bewail my kin enow.”
“Forsooth we be not so guilty,” answered Hagen. “Your warriors came to this hall in a large band, armed with care. Methinks the tale hath not been told you rightly.”
“What else should I believe? Hildebrand told me, that when my knights from the Amelung land asked that ye should give up Rudeger’s corse from out the hall, ye did naught but mock the valiant heroes from above the steps.”
Then spake the king from the Rhine: “They said, that they would fain bear Rudeger hence, and I bade this be denied them to vex King Etzel, and not thy men, until then Wolfhart began to rail about it.”
Then the hero of Berne made answer: “Fate would have it so. Gunther, most noble king, now through thy courtesie requite me of the wrongs, that have happed to me from thee, and make such amends, brave knight, that I may give thee credit for the deed. Give thyself and thy men to me as hostages, and I will guard you, as best I may, that none here do thee aught among the Huns. Thou shalt find me naught but good and true.”
“Now God forbid,” quoth Hagen, “that two knights give themselves up to thee, that still do stand opposed to thee so doughtily and walk so unfettered before their foes.”
“Gunther and Hagen, ye should not deny me this,” spake Dietrich. “Ye have grieved my heart and mind so sore, that it were but right, and ye would requite me. I give you my hand and troth as pledge, that I will ride with you, home to your land. I’ll lead you in all honor, or else lie dead, and for your sakes I will forget my grievous wrongs.”
“Crave this no longer,” answered Hagen. “‘Twere fitting, that the tale be told of us, that two men so brave had given themselves up to you. We see none standing by you, save Hildebrand alone.”
Then up spake Master Hildebrand: “God wot, Sir Hagen, the hour will come, when ye will gladly take the peace, if so be any offer to keep it with you. Ye might well content you with the truce my lord doth offer.”
“Forsooth I’d take the truce,” quoth Hagen, “or ever I’d flee from out a hall so shamefully as ye did, Master Hildebrand. I weened, ye could stand better against a foe.”
To this Hildebrand made answer: “Why twit ye me with that? Who was it sate upon a shield hard by the Waskstone, (1) when Walter of Spain slew so many of his kin? Ye, too, have faults enow of your own to show.”
Then spake Sir Dietrich: “Ill doth it beseem heroes, that they should scold like aged beldams. I forbid you, Hildebrand, to speak aught more. Grievous wrongs constrain me, homeless warrior. Let’s hear, Knight Hagen, what ye twain did speak, ye doughty men, when ye saw me coming toward you armed? Ye said, that ye alone would fain encounter me in strife.”
“Certes, none doth deny,” Knight Hagen spake, “that I will essay it here with mighty blows, unless be, that the sword of Nibelung break in my hand. Wroth am I, that we twain have here been craved as hostages.”
When Dietrich noted Hagen’s raging mood, quickly the doughty knight and good snatched up his shield. How swiftly Hagen sprang toward him from the steps! Loudly the good sword of Nibelung rang on Dietrich’s head. Then wist Dietrich well, that the bold knight was grim of mood. The lord of Berne gan guard him against the fearful blows, for well he knew Hagen, the stately knight. Balmung he also feared, a weapon stout enow. Dietrich returned the blows at times in cunning wise, until at last he conquered Hagen in the strife. A wound he dealt him, the which was deep and long. Then Lord Dietrich thought him: “Thou art worn out with strife; little honor shall I have, and thou liest dead before me. I will try, if perchance I can force thee to be my hostage.”
This he wrought with danger. His shield he let fall, great was his strength, and clasped Hagen of Troneg in his arms. Thus the brave knight was overcome by Dietrich. Noble Gunther gan wail thereat. Dietrich now bound Hagen and led him to where he found the highborn queen; into her hand he gave the bravest warrior that ever bare a sword. Then merry enow she grew after her great dole. For very joy King Etzel’s wife bowed low before the knight. “May thy heart and body be ever blest. Thou hast well requited me of all my woes. For this will I ever serve thee, unless be, that death doth hinder me therefrom.”
Then spake Lord Dietrich: “Pray let him live, most noble queen. And if this still may be, how well will I requite you of that which he hath done you! Let him not suffer, because ye see him stand here bound.”
She bade Hagen then be led away to duress, where he lay locked in and where none did see him. Gunther, the high-born king, began to call: “Whither went the knight of Berne? He hath done me wrong.”
At this Lord Dietrich went to meet him. Gunther’s might was worthy of praise; no more he bided, but ran outside the hall, and from the clashing of the swords of the twain a mighty din arose. However much and long Lord Dietrich’s prowess had been praised, yet Gunther was so sorely angered and enraged, for because of the grievous dole, he was his deadly foe, that men still tell it as a wonder, that Sir Dietrich did not fall. Great were both their prowess and their strength. The palace and the towers resounded with the blows, when with the swords they hewed at the sturdy helmets. King Gunther was of lordly mood, but the knight of Berne overcame him, as happed to Hagen afore. The hero’s blood was seen to ooze through the armor rings, drawn forth by a keen-edged sword, the which Sir Dietrich bare. Though weary, Sir Gunther had guarded him most valiantly. The lord was now bound by Dietrich’s hands. Though kings should not endure such bonds, yet Dietrich thought, if he set free the king and his liegeman, that all they met must needs fall dead at their hands.
Dietrich of Berne now took him by the hand and led him bound to where he found Kriemhild. At sight of his sorrow much of her fear took flight. She spake: “Welcome, Gunther, from the Burgundian land.”
Quoth he: “I would bow before you, dear sister mine, if your greetings were but kinder. I know you, queen, to be so wroth of mood that ye do give me and Hagen meagre greetings.”
Up spake the knight of Berne: “Most noble queen, never were such good knights made hostages, as I have given you in them, exalted lady. For my sake, I pray you, spare these homeless men.”
She vowed she’d do it gladly. Then Sir Dietrich left the worshipful knights with weeping eyes. Later Etzel’s wife avenged her grimly; she took the life of both the chosen heroes. To make their duress worse she let them lie apart, so that neither saw the other, till she bare her brother’s head to Hagen. Kriemhild’s vengeance on both was great enow.
Then the queen went to Hagen. In what right hostile wise she spake to the knight: “If ye will give me back what ye have taken from me, then ye may still go home alive to Burgundy.”
Grim Hagen answered: “Thou dost waste thy words, most noble queen. Forsooth I have sworn an oath, that I would not show the hoard, the while and any of my lords still live; so I shall give it to none.”
“I’ll make an end of this,” quoth the high-born wife. Then she bade her brother’s life be taken. His head they struck off, and by the hair she bare it to the knight of Troneg. Loth enow it was to him. When sad of mind the warrior gazed upon his master’s head, he spake to Kriemhild: “Thou hast brought it to an end after thy will, and it hath happed, as I had thought me. The noble king of Burgundy now lieth dead, and Giselher, the youth, and Sir Gernot, too. None knoweth of the treasure now save God and me, and it shall ever be hid from thee, thou fiend.”
Quoth she: “Ye have requited me full ill, so I will keep the sword of Siegfried, the which my sweetheart bare, when last I saw him, in whom dole of heart hath happed to me through you.”
From the sheath she drew it, nor could he hinder her a whit. She planned to rob the knight of life. With her hands she raised it and struck off his head. This King Etzel saw, and sore enow it rued him. “Alack!” cried the lording, “how lieth now dead at a woman’s hands the very best of knights, that ever came to battle or bare a shield! However much I was his foe, yet it doth grieve me sorely.”
Then spake old Hildebrand: “Forsooth it shall not boot her aught, that she durst slay him. Whatso hap to me, and however much it may bring me to a dangerous pass, yet will I avenge bold Troneg’s death.”
Hildebrand sprang in wrath towards Kriemhild. For fear of him she suffered pain; but what might it avail her, that she shrieked so frightfully? He dealt the queen a grievous sword-blow, the which did cut the high-born dame in twain. Now all lay low in death whom fate had doomed. Dietrich and Etzel then began to weep; sorely they mourned both kin and liegemen. Their mickle honors lay there low in death; the courtiers all had grief and drearihead. The king’s high feast had ended now in woe, as joy doth ever end in sorrow at the last. I cannot tell you, that which happed thereafter, save that knights and ladies and noble squires were seen to weep for the death of loving kinsmen. The tale hath here an end. This is the Nibelungs’ fall. (2) (3)
ENDNOTES:
(1) “Waskstone”, see Adventure XXXV, note 2. (2) “Fall”. The word “not”, translated here “fall”, means really ‘disaster’, but as this word is not in keeping with the style, “fall” has been chosen as preferable to ‘need’, used by some translators. The MS. C has here “liet” instead of “not” of A and B.
(3) The “Nibelungenlied” is continued by the so-called “Klage”, a poem written in short rhyming couplets. As the name indicates, it describes the lamentations of the survivors over the dead. The praises of each warrior are sung and a messenger dispatched to acquaint Gorelind, Uta, and Brunhild with the sad end of their kinsmen. It closes with Dietrich’s departure from Etzel’s court and his return home. Although in one sense a continuation of our poem, the “Klage” is an independent work of no great merit, being excessively tedious with its constant repetitions. A reprint and a full account of it will be found in Piper’s edition of our poem, vol. I.