c. 1200 2026
This is an AI modernization of The Nibelungenlied into contemporary English. The original is available from Bibliotheca Augustana (Bartsch's text of manuscript B). Also available as an epub.
The Nibelungenlied, the Song of the Nibelungs, was written down around 1200 by a poet whose name nobody recorded, perhaps at the court of the Bishop of Passau on the Danube. It tells a story German-speaking singers had been reciting for centuries, and its oldest layer is history. In 436 the Burgundian kingdom on the Rhine around Worms was destroyed by Hun soldiers fighting for Rome, and its king Gundahar was killed. Attila the Hun died in 453 on the night of his wedding to a Germanic bride. Theoderic the Great, king of the Ostrogoths, ruled Italy from Ravenna and Verona until 526. In the poem they appear as Gunther, as Etzel, and as Dietrich of Bern, which is Verona, all alive at the same time and bound into one tragedy.
The poem has two halves. In the first, Siegfried of Xanten, a prince who has killed a dragon and bathed in its blood, comes to Worms to win Kriemhild, the sister of King Gunther. He helps Gunther win Brunhild, the warrior-queen of Isenland, by a deception, and years later the deception comes out in a quarrel between the two queens. Gunther's vassal Hagen of Tronje kills Siegfried. In the second half, Kriemhild marries Etzel, King of the Huns, and thirteen years later invites her brothers to his court.
It is a poem of 2,379 four-line stanzas, divided into thirty-nine episodes the poet called aventiuren, which this edition calls chapters. Its first readers were knights and court ladies, and much of it is ceremony: who greets whom first, who rides beside whom, what each guest is given. These scenes matter. Honor, loyalty and insult are measured in them, and every great killing in the poem begins with a slight at a feast. The poet also tells you, again and again, how things will end. This is not carelessness. Knowing that they are all riding to their deaths is how the story works.
The poem was forgotten for centuries until a manuscript was found in an Austrian castle in 1755, and in the nineteenth century it was claimed as Germany's national epic. The Nazis used it heavily; in 1943 Göring compared the army trapped at Stalingrad to the Burgundians in Etzel's burning hall. Wagner's Ring cycle is a different version of the same legend, built mostly from Norse sources.
This edition retells every stanza in modern English prose, translated from the Middle High German text of the manuscript known as B, with Daniel B. Shumway's 1909 prose translation consulted for sense only. The names are the poem's own: Etzel, not Attila, and Isenland, not Iceland.
Part One: Siegfried
Part Two: Kriemhild's Revenge
The old stories tell us many wonders: of heroes worthy of praise, of great hardship, of joy and feasting, of weeping and lament; and now you can hear wonders told of bold warriors' battles.
In Burgundy there grew up a girl of such noble birth that in all the lands there was none more beautiful. Her name was Kriemhild, and she grew into a lovely woman, and for her sake many fighting men would lose their lives.
She was made to be loved: bold warriors longed for her, and no one ever wished her ill. Her beauty was beyond all measure, and the young lady's graces would have been an ornament to any woman.
Three kings had her in their keeping, noble and powerful: Gunther and Gernot, two warriors of great renown, and young Giselher, a chosen fighter. The lady was their sister, and the princes had her in their care. These lords were open-handed, high-born, and bold beyond all measure in their strength, the pick of all warriors. Their land was called Burgundy. Later they did great wonders in Etzel's land.
They lived in their power at Worms on the Rhine, and the proud knights of their lands served them in honor until their final day. In the end they died wretchedly, through the hatred of two noble women.
Their mother was a mighty queen, the lady Ute. Their father was Dankrat, who left them his lands when his life was over, a man of great courage, who had won high honor in his own youth too. These three kings, as I have said, were of great courage, and the best warriors anyone has ever heard of were their vassals: strong, very bold, and fearless in the hardest fighting. There was Hagen of Tronje, and his brother Dankwart the swift; Ortwin of Metz; the two margraves Gere and Eckewart; and Volker of Alzey, a man of courage through and through. There was Rumold, master of the kitchen, a fine warrior; and Sindold and Hunold, who with him had charge of the court and its honors, the three kings' men. And they had many another warrior whose name I cannot give you. Dankwart was marshal; his nephew Ortwin of Metz was the king's steward; Sindold, a chosen warrior, was cupbearer, and Hunold was chamberlain. They knew how to keep up the honor of a great house. As for the strength of that court, the reach of its power, its high dignity and the knightly life these lords led with joy all their days: truly, no one could ever tell you the end of it.
In the midst of all this splendor Kriemhild had a dream. She dreamed she was raising a falcon, strong and beautiful and wild, and that two eagles tore it to pieces before her eyes. Nothing in this world could have grieved her more. She told the dream to her mother Ute, and Ute could explain it to the good girl no better than this: "The falcon you are raising is a noble man. Unless God protects him, you will lose him soon."
"Why are you talking to me about a man, dearest mother? I mean to live without any warrior's love. I want to stay as beautiful as I am until the day I die, and never have a man's love bring me sorrow."
"Don't swear it off so hard," her mother answered. "If you are ever to be happy with your whole heart in this world, it will be through a man's love. You will be a beautiful woman, if God sends you a truly good knight."
"Let it be, my lady," she said. "It has been proved in so many women how love is repaid with sorrow in the end. I will keep clear of them both, and then nothing can ever go wrong for me."
So Kriemhild shut her heart entirely against love. The good girl lived many a happy day after that without knowing anyone she wanted to love. Later, in all honor, she became the wife of a very bold warrior. He was the very falcon she had seen in her dream and her mother had explained to her. How terribly she would avenge him on her own nearest kin, who killed him in the end! For the death of that one man, many a mother's son would die.
In the Netherlands, meanwhile, there grew up the son of a most noble king. His father was Siegmund, his mother Sieglinde, and their home was a mighty castle, famous far and wide, far down the lower Rhine: it was called Xanten. The boy was named Siegfried, a quick and good fighter. His courage drove him to try his strength against many kingdoms, and his strength carried him into many lands. Ah, what quick fighters he would meet in Burgundy later on!
In his prime, in the days of his youth, there were wonders to tell of Siegfried: how honor grew on him, and how handsome he was. Later the loveliest women would lose their hearts to him. He was raised with all the care he deserved, and the virtues he took on came from his own nature. In time his father's lands would shine for it, because in everything he did he showed himself so truly a lord.
He was grown enough now to ride to court. People liked to look at him, many a lady and many a girl, and they hoped his heart would bring him there again and again. Plenty of them were fond of him, and the young lord was well aware of it. The boy was very seldom allowed to ride out without a guard. Siegmund and Sieglinde had him dressed in fine clothes, and men of experience who knew what honor was had charge of him too. So he was well on his way to winning both people and land.
He was strong enough now to carry weapons well, and whatever that called for, he had plenty of. With good sense he began to court beautiful women, and they loved bold Siegfried, honorably and well. Then his father Siegmund let his vassals know that he meant to hold a festival with his dear kinsmen. The news was carried into other kings' lands, and to strangers and to his own people alike he gave horses and good clothes. Wherever a boy was found whose birth and family entitled him to be a knight, he was invited to the land for the festival; these noble youths would take the sword alongside the young king's son.
There were wonders to tell of that festival. Siegmund and Sieglinde knew how to win great honor with their wealth, and their hands dealt out plenty of it; and so many a worthy man was seen riding into their land. Four hundred young men were to put on knightly clothes together with Siegfried, and many a beautiful girl was kept busy with the sewing, because they were all fond of him. The ladies set many a precious stone in the gold that they would work with braid onto the clothes of those proud young warriors. It had to be done. The host had seats set out for a great many bold men, for the midsummer when his son Siegfried would be given the name of knight.
Then many a rich squire and many a noble knight went to the cathedral. The older men were right to serve the young ones, as had been done for them in their day. There were pastimes, and the hope of great joy ahead. A Mass was sung in God's honor, and then a great crush rose among the crowd as the young men were made knights in the knightly way, with honors so great that the like of them may never be seen again. They ran to where many a saddled horse stood waiting. In Siegmund's courtyard the buhurt, the mock battle on horseback, grew so fierce that the palace and the hall rang with it; the high-spirited warriors made a tremendous din. From the seasoned men and the green ones alike came clash after clash, and the crack of breaking shafts rang up to the sky. Splinters flew out in front of the palace from many a warrior's hand: they went at it with a will. At last the host asked them to stop, and the horses were led away. Many a stout shield-boss lay broken there, and many precious stones had fallen on the grass from the bright shield-mounts, knocked loose in the clash.
Then the host's guests went where they were told to sit. Fine food in plenty took away their weariness, and the very best wine, which was carried to them in great quantities. Strangers and the king's own people alike were shown every honor. However much sport they had all day long, many of the traveling entertainers gave up any thought of rest: they performed for the gifts, which were rich there, and all of Siegmund's land was covered in praise for it. The lord had young Siegfried granted land and castles, as he himself had once been given them, and Siegfried's hand gave freely to the companions who had taken the sword with him. The guests were glad they had made the journey to that land.
The festival lasted until the seventh day. Mighty Sieglinde followed the old custom, and for love of her son gave out red gold; she knew how to earn her son the people's affection. Hardly a poor entertainer could be found there. Horses and clothes flew from their hands as if they had not one more day to live. I do not think any household ever showed such generosity. The festival ended with honor and praise. Later, the great lords were heard to say that they wanted the young man for their ruler, but Lord Siegfried, that handsome man, wanted nothing of the kind. As long as Siegmund and Sieglinde both lived, their beloved child would wear no crown. And yet he meant to be master over every act of violence that was feared in those lands, that bold and daring warrior.
Heartache rarely troubled the young lord. But he heard people telling of a girl in Burgundy, beautiful beyond anything you could wish for, and from her he would later gain great joy, and great hardship too.
Her extraordinary beauty was known far and wide, and her high spirit along with it, and so many a hero came to hear of the young lady that it drew guests in crowds to Gunther's land. But however many were seen courting her love, Kriemhild never once admitted to herself that she wanted any of them for her own. The man she would one day belong to was still a stranger to her.
Then Sieglinde's son set his heart on high love. Beside him, every other suitor's wooing was so much wind: he was the man who could earn a beautiful woman's love. And later noble Kriemhild did become bold Siegfried's wife.
Since he wanted to set his hopes on a lasting love, his kinsmen and many of his vassals advised him to court someone who was his equal. Then bold Siegfried said: "Then I will take Kriemhild, the beautiful young lady of Burgundy, for her beauty beyond all measure. I know this much: no emperor was ever so mighty that, if he wanted a wife, this royal princess would not be a fitting match for him."
The same news reached Siegmund. His people talked of it, and that was how he learned what his son intended, and it grieved him deeply that the boy meant to court that glorious girl. Sieglinde, the noble king's wife, heard it too, and she was badly frightened for her child's life, because she knew Gunther and his men well. People began to press the warrior hard to give the venture up.
Then bold Siegfried said: "Dearest father, I would rather go without the love of noble women for the rest of my life than court anywhere except where my heart has fixed its great love. Whatever anyone says, there is no arguing me out of it."
"If you will not turn back," said the king, "then truly I am glad of your resolve, and I will help you carry it through as well as I possibly can. But King Gunther has many arrogant men about him. If there were no one but Hagen, that warrior alone knows how to carry his arrogance so high that I badly fear it will bring us sorrow if we go courting that glorious girl."
"How can that hurt us?" Siegfried said. "Whatever I cannot get from them by friendly asking, my own hand can win by courage. I am confident I can wrest from them both their people and their land."
Prince Siegmund said: "I do not like this talk. If word of it were carried to the Rhine, you could never ride into that land at all. I have known Gunther and Gernot a long time. No one can win the girl by force," King Siegmund went on. "I know that for certain. But if you want to ride into that land with warriors, then whatever friends we have will be summoned at once."
"That is not what I have in mind," Siegfried answered, "that warriors should follow me to the Rhine as if on campaign. It would grieve me to force that lovely girl's hand that way. My hand alone can win her. I will go into Gunther's land as one of twelve, and you will help me with that, Father Siegmund." Then his warriors were given clothes of gray fur and fur of many colors.
Now his mother Sieglinde heard the news too, and she began to grieve for her dear child, for she was afraid of losing him to Gunther's men. The noble queen wept and wept. Lord Siegfried went to find her and spoke to his mother gently: "Lady, you must not weep on my account. Truly, I will be safe from every fighting man alive. Help me get ready for the journey to Burgundy, so that I and my warriors have clothes that proud heroes can wear with honor. For that I will be grateful to you, truly and with all my loyalty."
"Since you will not turn back," said Lady Sieglinde, "then I will help you on your journey, my only child, with the finest clothes a knight ever wore, for you and your companions. You will take plenty of them with you."
Young Siegfried bowed to the queen. He said: "I want no one on the journey but twelve warriors, and clothes should be made ready for them. I am eager to see how things stand with Kriemhild."
So beautiful women sat sewing night and day, and hardly one of them took any rest until Siegfried's clothes were finished. He would not hear of giving up his journey. His father had his knightly gear adorned, so that he could ride out of Siegmund's land in style. Their bright coats of mail were made ready too, and their strong helmets, and their shields, handsome and broad. Now the day of their journey to Burgundy drew near, and women and men alike began to worry whether they would ever come home again. The heroes had their weapons and clothes loaded on the pack-horses. Their horses were handsome, their harness red gold. If any men ever lived in higher spirits than Siegfried and his companions, they had no call to. Then he asked leave to ride to Burgundy, and the king and his wife granted it with heavy hearts. He comforted them both lovingly. "You must not weep on my account," he said. "Never be afraid for my life."
The warriors were downcast, and many a girl wept. I think their hearts told them the plain truth: that so many of their kinsmen would lie dead because of this. They had good reason to lament; truly, the grief was already upon them.
On the seventh morning the bold riders came onto the river sand at Worms. All their gear was of red gold, their harness finely made, and the horses of bold Siegfried's men moved at an easy pace. Their shields were new, bright and broad, and their helmets were splendid, as bold Siegfried rode to court in Gunther's land. No one had ever seen heroes so magnificently dressed. The points of their swords hung down to their spurs. These chosen knights carried sharp javelins, and Siegfried's was a full two hand-spans broad, with edges that cut horribly. They held gold-colored reins in their hands, and the breast-straps of their horses were silk. So they came into the land, and everywhere the people began to stare at them, and many of Gunther's men ran out to meet them.
High-spirited warriors, knights and squires, went up to the lords, as was only right, received the guests into their masters' land, and took the horses and the shields from their hands. They wanted to lead the horses away to rest. But bold Siegfried spoke up quickly: "Leave the horses standing, mine and my men's. We mean to be gone from here soon; I fully intend it. Whoever knows, let him not keep it from me: where can I find the king, mighty Gunther of Burgundy? Someone tell me." One of them, who knew well, answered: "If you want to find the lord, that is easily done. I saw him just now in that wide hall over there, among his heroes. Go in, and you will find many a splendid man with him."
By now the king had been told that fine knights had arrived, wearing white coats of mail and magnificent clothes, and that no one in Burgundy knew who they were. The king wondered where these splendid warriors could have come from, in their shining clothes, with such good shields, new and broad; and it annoyed Gunther that no one could tell him. Ortwin of Metz answered the king, and he had every right to, being both powerful and bold: "Since we do not know them, you should send for my uncle Hagen and let him look at them. He knows the kingdoms and the foreign lands too. If he knows who these lords are, he will tell us." The king sent for him and his men, and Hagen was seen striding to court with his warriors in lordly style.
Hagen asked what the king wanted of him. "There are warriors in my house whom no one here knows. If you have ever seen them, Hagen, tell me the plain truth."
"I will," said Hagen. He went to a window and let his eyes travel over the guests. He liked their bearing and their gear, but they were strangers to him in Burgundy. He said that wherever these warriors had come from to the Rhine, they might be princes themselves, or princes' envoys: their horses were handsome and their clothes very fine, and wherever they came from, they were men of high spirit.
"I will say this," Hagen went on. "Though I have never set eyes on Siegfried, I am ready to believe, whatever the truth of it, that he is the warrior striding there so grandly. He brings fresh news to this land. This hero's hand killed the bold Nibelungs, Schilbung and Nibelung, the sons of a mighty king, and since then he has done great wonders with his huge strength.
"Once, when the hero was riding alone, with no help at all, he came to a mountain, so I have been told, and found there, beside Nibelung's treasure, a great many bold men. They were strangers to him until he came to know them there. The whole of Nibelung's treasure had been carried out of a hollow mountain, and now hear a wonder: the Nibelung men wanted to divide it up. Siegfried the warrior saw this and it amazed him. He came so close that he could see the heroes and they could see him, and one of them said: 'Here comes strong Siegfried, the hero from the Netherlands.' Strange things he found among the Nibelungs. Schilbung and Nibelung welcomed the warrior, and with one voice the noble young princes asked the handsome man to divide the treasure for them. They begged him so eagerly that the lord agreed.
"He saw so many precious stones, as we hear tell, that a hundred wagons could not have carried them, and still more red gold from the Nibelung land, and bold Siegfried's hand was to divide it all. As his reward they gave him Nibelung's sword. But they were badly served by the service the good hero Siegfried was to do them: he could not bring it to an end, and they grew angry. Among their followers they had twelve bold men who were mighty giants. What good did it do them? Siegfried's hand killed them in his rage, and he subdued seven hundred warriors of the Nibelung land with the good sword called Balmung. Out of sheer terror of that sword and the bold man who held it, many a young warrior made the land and its castles subject to him. And the two mighty kings, he killed them both. Then Alberich put him in great danger: the dwarf meant to avenge his lords on the spot, until he found out what Siegfried's strength was. The mighty dwarf could not stand against him. Like wild lions they ran at the mountain, and there Siegfried took from Alberich the cloak of invisibility. Then Siegfried, that terrible man, was master of the treasure. All who had dared to fight lay dead. He had the treasure hauled and carried straight back to the place the Nibelung men had taken it from, and strong Alberich was made its keeper. He had to swear oaths to serve Siegfried as his servant, and he was ready for every kind of task."
So said Hagen of Tronje. "That is what he has done. No warrior ever had such strength. And I know one thing more about him for certain: this hero's hand killed a dragon. He bathed in its blood, and his skin turned to horn, so that no weapon can cut him, as has been proved many times over. We should receive this lord all the better for it, so that we do not earn the young warrior's hatred. He is so bold that we had better have him as a friend; he has done so many wonders by his strength."
The mighty king said: "You may well be right. See how boldly he stands there, ready for a fight, that bold man, he and his warriors. Let us go down and meet him."
"You can do that with honor," Hagen said. "He is of noble blood, a mighty king's son. From the way he carries himself, Christ knows, I would say it is no small matter that has brought him riding here."
The king of the land said: "Then let him be welcome. He is noble and bold, as I have heard, and he shall have the benefit of it in Burgundy." Then Lord Gunther went to where Siegfried stood. The host and his warriors received the guest so well that nothing was lacking in their courtesy, and the handsome man bowed to them, because they had greeted him so graciously.
"I am curious about one thing," the king said at once. "Where have you come from into this land, noble Siegfried, and what are you looking for at Worms on the Rhine?" The guest answered the king: "I will not hide it from you. I was told in my father's land that here with you were the boldest warriors any king ever had; I have heard it many times, and I wanted to know it for certain. That is why I have come. And I hear you yourself credited with bravery: that no king was ever seen bolder. People say so all through these lands, and I will not turn back until I know the truth of it. I too am a warrior, and I am to wear a crown. I mean to make them say of me that I hold my people and my land by right, and my honor and my head are the pledge. Now, if you are as bold as I have been told, then I do not care whether it pleases anyone or not: I will take from you by force whatever you have. Your lands and your castles shall be subject to me."
The king was amazed, and his men with him, at what they were hearing: that this man meant to take their lands from them. His warriors heard it, and anger rose in them. "How have I deserved this," said Gunther the warrior, "that what my father held so long with honor we should lose to the strength of any man? That would be a poor showing of our own knighthood."
"I will not give it up," the bold man answered. "Unless your land can keep its peace by your own courage, I will rule all of it; and if you win mine by your strength, then my inheritance shall be subject to you. Your inheritance and mine shall be staked alike, and whichever of us beats the other, all of it shall serve him, the people and the lands."
Hagen spoke against it at once, and so did Gernot. "We have no wish," said Gernot, "to conquer any land, and no wish for any man to lie dead at a hero's hands for it. We have rich lands that serve us by right, and no one has a better claim to them than we do."
His kinsmen stood there grim-faced, and among them was Ortwin of Metz. "This talk of peace sits badly with me," he said. "Strong Siegfried has challenged you without any cause. If you and your brothers had no defense at all, and if he had brought a whole king's army with him, I would still trust myself to fight so hard that this bold man would have every reason to drop his arrogance."
That made the hero from the Netherlands furious. "Your hand will not presume against me," he said. "I am a mighty king; you are a king's vassal. Twelve of your kind could never stand against me in a fight."
Then Ortwin of Metz shouted loudly for swords; he was every inch Hagen of Tronje's sister's son. That Hagen had kept silent so long troubled the king. Then Gernot stepped between them, that bold and cheerful knight. He said to Ortwin: "Put your anger away. Lord Siegfried has done us nothing we cannot still settle with good manners. That is my advice: let us keep him as a friend. It does us more credit."
Strong Hagen said: "It may well grieve us, and all your warriors, that he ever rode to the Rhine looking for a fight. He should have left it alone. My lords would never have done such a wrong to him."
Siegfried, that powerful man, answered: "If what I have said offends you, Sir Hagen, then I will let you see that these hands of mine mean to hold great power here in Burgundy."
"I will prevent that single-handed," said Gernot, and he forbade all his warriors to say a word in arrogance that might lead to grief. And Siegfried, too, thought of the glorious girl. "How would it suit us to fight you?" Gernot went on. "However many heroes lay dead for it, we would have little honor from it and you little profit." Siegfried, King Siegmund's son, answered him: "Then why are Hagen and Ortwin waiting? Why do they not rush to fight, with all the kinsmen they have here in Burgundy?" But they had to hold their tongues; that was Gernot's counsel.
"You are welcome among us," said Ute's son, "with the companions who have come with you. We will gladly serve you, I and my kinsmen." Then Gunther's wine was poured for the guests. The lord of the land said: "Everything we have, if you will accept it honorably, is at your disposal, and we will share it with you, our lives and our goods." At that Lord Siegfried's mood softened a little.
All their gear was taken and kept for them, and the best lodgings to be found were sought out; Siegfried's squires were made comfortable. From then on the guest was a welcome sight in Burgundy. For many days after that he was shown great honor, a thousand times more than I can tell you. His courage had earned it, believe me. Hardly anyone who saw him bore him any ill will.
The kings and their men kept themselves busy with sports, and whatever they took up, he was always the best at it. No one could keep up with him, so great was his strength, whether they were throwing the stone or hurling the javelin. And whenever the gallant knights, as courtesy demanded, passed the time in the company of the ladies, the hero from the Netherlands was always a welcome sight there, for he had set his mind on high love. Whatever was begun, he was ready for it. But in his heart he carried one lovely girl, and she carried him in hers, the lady he had still never seen, who in private often spoke of him with great fondness.
Whenever the young men, knights and squires, played their games in the courtyard, Kriemhild the noble princess very often watched them from her window. In those days she needed no other pastime. Had he known that she whom he carried in his heart was watching him, he would have had pastime enough for the rest of his life. And had his eyes seen her, I know it for certain: nothing in this world could ever have made him happier. Whenever he stood among the heroes in the courtyard, as people still do to pass the time, Sieglinde's son stood there so winningly that many a lady loved him for it with all her heart. And many a time he thought: "How is it ever going to happen that I see with my own eyes the noble girl I love with all my heart, and have loved for so long? She is still a stranger to me, and it leaves me standing here in sorrow."
Whenever the mighty kings rode out across their lands, the warriors all had to ride with them, and so Siegfried had to go too. The lady was sorry for that; and he, for love of her, often suffered great hardship. So he lived with the lords, it is the plain truth, a full year in Gunther's land, and in all that time he never once saw the lovely girl from whom so much joy would come to him later, and so much sorrow too.
Now strange news came to Gunther's land, carried by messengers sent from far away by warriors no one there knew, men who hated them. When the Burgundians heard the message, truly, it grieved them. I will name those warriors for you. One was Liudeger of Saxony, a mighty and proud prince, and the other was Liudegast, the king of Denmark, and for their campaign they had gathered many a splendid foreign fighter.
So their messengers had come into Gunther's land, sent there by his enemies. People asked the strangers what news they brought, and they were told to go quickly to court and stand before the king. He greeted them courteously. "Welcome," he said. "Who sent you here I have not yet heard. You should let us hear it," said the good king. But they were badly afraid of Gunther's grim temper.
"If you will permit us, King, to tell you the news we bring, we will not hold it back. We name to you the lords who sent us here: Liudegast and Liudeger. They mean to come looking for you in this land. You have earned their anger. Indeed, we heard it plainly that both lords bear you great hatred. They mean to march on Worms on the Rhine, and many warriors are helping them; you may take my word for that. Within twelve weeks the campaign must begin. If you have any good friends who will help you defend your castles and your land, show it quickly, for many a helmet and shield-rim will be hacked to pieces here by their hands. Or if you would rather negotiate with them, send word to them, and then the many companies of your strong enemies will not ride so close to you, bringing you heartfelt sorrow, the kind that costs many good and gallant knights their lives."
"Now wait a while," said the good king, "until I have thought it over better; then I will let you know my mind. If I have any loyal men, I ought not to keep this from them. Such hard news I must lay before my friends."
Mighty Gunther was grieved enough. He carried the message secretly in his heart. He had Hagen fetched, and others of his men, and he sent in great haste to bring Gernot to court as well. Then came the best men to be found there, and he said: "They mean to come looking for us here in our own land with strong armies. Take it to heart." Gernot, a bold and gallant knight, answered him:
"We will ward that off with swords," said Gernot. "Only those whose time has come will die there; let them lie dead. I cannot forget my honor over this. Our enemies shall be welcome here."
Then Hagen of Tronje said: "That does not seem good to me. Liudegast and Liudeger are arrogant men, and we cannot call up our forces in so few days." Then the bold warrior added: "Why don't you tell Siegfried?"
The messengers were given lodging in the town. However hostile they were, mighty Gunther ordered them well looked after, and that was well done, until he found out from his friends who would stand by him. In his worry the king was still deeply troubled. A gallant knight saw him brooding, a man who could not know what had happened to him, and he asked King Gunther to tell him what the matter was.
"It amazes me," said Siegfried, "how completely you have changed the cheerful ways you have long kept with us." Gunther, that handsome warrior, answered him: "I cannot tell everyone the trouble I must carry secretly in my heart. A man should lament his heart's distress only to steadfast friends." Siegfried's color went pale, then red. He said to the king: "I have never refused you anything. I will help you turn aside every sorrow you have. If you are looking for friends, I will be one of them, and I trust I can see it through with honor to the end of my days."
"God reward you, Lord Siegfried. I like what you say. And even if your courage never comes to my aid, I am glad to hear that you are so devoted to me, and if I live any time at all, you will be well repaid for it. I will let you hear why I stand here so sad. From my enemies' messengers I have learned that they mean to come looking for me here with armies. No warriors ever did that to us in these lands before."
"Make light of it," said Siegfried, "and calm your mind. Do what I ask you: let me win you honor and advantage, and ask your warriors to come to your aid as well. Even if your strong enemies could call on thirty thousand warriors to help them, I would take them on if I had no more than a thousand. Leave that to me." Then King Gunther said: "For that I will serve you as long as I live."
"Then have a thousand of your men brought to me, since I have none of my own here except twelve warriors, and I will defend your land. Siegfried's hand will serve you loyally forever. Hagen shall help us in this, and Ortwin too, Dankwart and Sindold, your dear warriors. And Volker, that bold man, shall ride with us and carry the banner; there is no one I would rather give it to. And let the messengers ride home to their lords' land. Let them know that they will be seeing us soon, so that our castles can be left in peace." Then the king sent for his kinsmen and his vassals.
Liudeger's messengers came to court, and they were very glad to be going home. Gunther the good king offered them rich gifts and gave them safe-conduct, and their spirits rose at that. "Now tell my strong enemies," said Gunther, "that they may as well stay home with their campaign. But if they want to come looking for me here in my lands, then unless my friends fail me, they will learn what hardship is." Rich gifts were brought out for the messengers; Gunther had more than enough to give, and Liudeger's men did not dare refuse them. When they took their leave, they went away in high spirits.
When the messengers reached Denmark and King Liudegast heard how they had come away from the Rhine, as it was told to him, their bold defiance truly grieved him. They said the Burgundians had a great many brave men, and that they had seen among them a warrior called Siegfried, a hero from the Netherlands. Liudegast was sorry when he understood that news properly. When the Danes heard this they hurried all the more to gather their friends, until Lord Liudegast had twenty thousand of his brave warriors for the campaign. King Liudeger of Saxony sent out his summons too, until between them they had forty thousand men and more, with whom they meant to ride into Burgundy.
Meanwhile, back at home, King Gunther had gathered his kinsmen, his brothers' vassals, and Hagen's warriors as well, the men they meant to lead to war. The heroes had need of them. Later, warriors would have to meet their deaths for it.
They threw themselves into getting ready, since they wanted to be gone. Volker the bold was to carry the banner as they rode out from Worms across the Rhine, and Hagen of Tronje was to command the troop. Sindold rode with them, and Hunold, men who knew well how to earn Gunther's gold, and Dankwart, Hagen's brother, and Ortwin too, men who could serve with honor on the campaign.
"Sir King, stay here at home," said Siegfried, "since your warriors are willing to follow me. Stay with the ladies and keep your spirits high. I trust I can guard your honor and your goods both. As for the men who wanted to come looking for you at Worms on the Rhine, I will see to it that they wish they had stayed home. We will ride so deep into their land that their arrogance turns to worry."
From the Rhine they rode through Hesse with their heroes toward Saxony, where the fighting would later be. With plunder and burning they laid the land waste, and both princes learned of it, to their grief. When they came to the border, the squires moved on ahead, and Siegfried the strong began asking: "Who is to guard the camp for us here?" Truly, no ride ever did the Saxons more harm. They said: "Let bold Dankwart guard the young ones on the road; he is a swift warrior. That way we will lose fewer to Liudeger's men. Let him and Ortwin have the rearguard."
"Then I will ride out myself," said Siegfried the warrior, "and keep the watch against the enemy until I find out exactly where their warriors are." Fair Sieglinde's son was quickly armed. When he set out he left the troops in the charge of Hagen and of bold Gernot, and then he rode alone into the land of the Saxons. Many a helmet-strap he cut through that day.
He saw the great army that lay camped on the plain, far more than the force he had with him: a good forty thousand, or more. Siegfried, in high spirits, looked on it gladly. Now a warrior on the other side had also gone up on watch against the enemy, fully armed. Lord Siegfried saw him, and the bold man saw Siegfried, and each began to watch the other with hatred. I will tell you who it was that kept the watch: a bright shield of gold lay before his hand. It was King Liudegast, guarding his own troops. The noble stranger came galloping at him splendidly.
Now Lord Liudegast too had marked him out as an enemy. They both drove the spurs into their horses' flanks and lowered their spears against the shields with all their strength, and the mighty king was suddenly in great trouble. After the thrust, the horses carried the two royal princes past each other as if a wind had blown them. With their bridles they wheeled round, like true knights, and the two grim men tried it with swords. Lord Siegfried struck so hard that the whole field rang. Out of the helmet flew fire-red sparks, as from great torches, struck by the hero's hand. Each had found his match in the other. Lord Liudegast struck many a grim blow too, and each man's full strength landed on the shields. Thirty of his men were standing watch nearby, but before they could reach him, Siegfried had won the victory with three deep wounds he dealt the king through his bright coat of mail, good as it was. The sword's edges brought blood out of the wounds, and King Liudegast was left in a sorry state.
He begged for his life and offered Siegfried his lands, and told him his name was Liudegast. Then his warriors came up; they had seen plainly what had happened between the two of them on the watch. Siegfried wanted to lead him away, but thirty of Liudegast's men attacked him. The hero's hand defended his royal hostage with huge blows, and after that the handsome warrior did worse harm still. Fighting for his life, he killed all thirty of them. One he left alive, and that man rode off fast and carried the news of what had happened here; the truth of it could be read on his reddened helmet. The Danes were bitterly grieved when they were told their lord was taken. It was told to his brother, and he began to rage with uncontrollable anger, for a wrong had been done him.
Liudegast the warrior was led away by Siegfried's might to Gunther's men, and Siegfried handed him over to Hagen. When they were told it was the king himself, their grief was not overwhelming. The Burgundians were ordered to tie on their banners. "Up!" said Siegfried. "More will be done here before the day is over, if I keep my life. Many a lovely woman in Saxony will grieve for it. Heroes from the Rhine, listen to me: I can lead you straight to Liudeger's army. There you will see helmets hewn by good heroes' hands. Before we turn for home, they will know what sorrow is."
Gernot and his men ran for their horses. The strong minstrel, Lord Volker, snatched up the banner and rode at the head of the troop, and the whole company was splendidly ready for battle. Still, they had no more than a thousand men, and the twelve warriors besides. The dust rose from the roads as they rode across the land, and many a splendid shield could be seen shining among them.
The Saxons had come too, with their companies and with well-sharpened swords, as I have since heard. Those swords cut hard in the heroes' hands, for they meant to defend their castles and their land against the strangers. The lords' commander led the troops forward. Siegfried had come up too, with the men he had brought with him from the Netherlands. In the storm of that day's fighting many a hand turned bloody. Sindold and Hunold and Gernot killed many a hero in the fight before the enemy learned how bold they really were. Many a noble woman would weep for it later.
Volker and Hagen and Ortwin dimmed the shine of many a helmet with flowing blood, storm-bold men that they were, and Dankwart did great wonders. The Danes gave a good account of themselves; the crash of shields rang out from the charges and from the sharp swords that were swung there in such numbers, and the battle-hardened Saxons did damage enough. But when the Burgundians pressed into the fight, they hacked open many a wide wound, and the blood could be seen running down over the saddles. That is how those bold, good knights went after honor.
The sharp weapons were heard ringing loud in the heroes' hands as the men from the Netherlands pressed after their lord into the thick of the enemy ranks. They came in bravely alongside Siegfried. Not one of the men from the Rhine could be seen following him. You could see the bloody stream running out through the bright helmets, drawn by Siegfried's hand, until he found Liudeger in front of his comrades. Three times now he had cut his way clean through the army and back. Now Hagen had come up, and he helped Siegfried do all that his heart desired in that battle. Many a good knight had to die before them that day.
When strong Liudeger found Siegfried, and saw how high he carried good Balmung in his hand and how many he was killing with it, the lord grew angry and grim enough. Then there was a great surge and a great clanging of swords as their men pressed in against each other, and the two warriors tested themselves all the harder. The ranks began to give way, and bitter hatred rose there. The ruler of the Saxons had already been told that his brother was captured, and it grieved him hard. He knew well enough that Sieglinde's son had done it; people were blaming Gernot, but he learned the truth of it later.
Liudeger's blows were so strong that Siegfried's horse staggered under the saddle. When the horse recovered itself, bold Siegfried took on a terrible manner in that fight. Hagen helped him well, and Gernot, Dankwart and Volker, and many lay dead because of it. Sindold and Hunold and Ortwin the warrior knew how to cut many a man down to his death in that battle. The noble princes stayed side by side in the storm of it. Many a spear was seen flying over the helmets and through the bright shields, thrown by heroes' hands, and many a splendid shield was seen stained the color of blood. In that hard fight many a man got down from his horse. Siegfried the bold and Liudeger ran at each other on foot; shafts were seen flying, and many a sharp spear. Then the shield-fittings flew off under Siegfried's hand. The hero from the Netherlands meant to win the victory over the bold Saxons, of whom so many wonders were seen that day. Oh, how many bright mail-rings bold Dankwart broke!
Then Lord Liudeger made out a crown painted on the shield in Siegfried's hand. He knew well now that this was the mighty man, and the hero began shouting to his friends: "Give up the fight, all my men! I have seen Siegmund's son here. I know him: it is strong Siegfried. The evil devil has sent him here to the Saxons."
He had the banners lowered in the middle of the fighting. He asked for peace, and later it was granted him, but he had to go to Gunther's land as a hostage. Bold Siegfried's hand had forced that on him. By common agreement they broke off the fight. They laid down out of their hands all the battered helmets and broad shields that could be found, and every one of them bore the color of blood, from the Burgundians' hands. They took captive whoever they chose, since they had the power to. Gernot and Hagen, those bold warriors, had the wounded laid on biers, and they led five hundred fighting men away captive to the Rhine.
The beaten warriors rode home to Denmark. Nor had the Saxons fought so well that anyone would give them praise, and that grieved those heroes. And the dead were sorely mourned by their friends. The Burgundians had the weapons loaded onto pack-horses again for the Rhine. Siegfried the warrior had fought splendidly with his heroes; he had done well, and every one of Gunther's men had to admit it.
Lord Gernot sent messengers to Worms. He let his kinsmen at home know how he and his men had fared, and that these brave warriors had won great honor. The pages ran, and the story spread. Those who had been grieving before now rejoiced for joy at the good news that had come to them, and the noble ladies were heard asking question after question about how the mighty king's men had fared. One of the messengers was told to go to Kriemhild. That was done very secretly, for she did not dare do it openly, since among those men was her own dear beloved.
When she saw the messenger coming to her chamber, beautiful Kriemhild spoke to him kindly: "Now tell me good news, and I will give you my gold. If you tell it without lying, I will always be your friend. How did my brother Gernot come out of the fighting, and the rest of my kinsmen? Are many of our men dead? And who did best there? You must tell me." The messenger answered at once: "We had no cowards anywhere. In earnest fighting no one rode so well, most noble princess, since I must tell it to you, as the noble guest from the Netherlands. Bold Siegfried's hand worked great wonders there.
"Whatever all the warriors did in the fight, Dankwart and Hagen and the rest of the king's men, however they fought for honor, it is so much wind beside Siegfried alone, King Siegmund's son. They cut down many a hero in the storm of battle, but no one could ever tell you the wonders Siegfried worked whenever he rode into the fight. Through their kinsmen he brought the women terrible grief. Many a woman's beloved had to stay behind there. His blows were heard landing so loud on the helmets that they brought the blood streaming from the wounds. In every virtue he is a bold and good knight.
"Whatever Ortwin of Metz did there, whoever he could reach with his sword was left wounded, or more often dead. But it was your brother who did the very greatest harm that could ever be done in battle. One must tell the truth about those chosen men: the proud Burgundians have carried themselves so well that they can keep their honor clear of every shame. Many a saddle was seen emptied by their hands, and the field rang loud with their bright swords. The warriors from the Rhine rode so hard that their enemies would have done better to avoid them.
"The bold men of Tronje did great harm too, when the armies met with their full strength. Bold Hagen's hand left many a man dead; there would be plenty to tell of it here in Burgundy. Sindold and Hunold, Gernot's men, and bold Rumold have done so much that Liudeger may regret forever that he ever declared war on your kinsmen at the Rhine. But the very finest fighting that was done anywhere there, first or last, that anyone saw, Siegfried's hand did gladly. He is bringing noble hostages into Gunther's land. That handsome man overpowered them by his courage, and King Liudegast must bear the loss of it, and so must his brother, Liudeger of Saxony. Now hear my news, noble princess: Siegfried's hand has captured them both. Never have so many hostages been brought into this land as are now coming to the Rhine through his doing. No news could ever be dearer to you. They are bringing five hundred or more of the unhurt, and of the mortally wounded, my lady, you should know, some eighty red biers into our land, most of them hacked down by strong Siegfried's hand. The men who in their arrogance sent their defiance to the Rhine must now be Gunther's prisoners, and they are being brought into this land with rejoicing."
Her bright color bloomed when she heard that news properly. Her lovely face turned rose-red, now that the handsome warrior, young Siegfried, had come out of that great peril in joy. She rejoiced for her kinsmen too, and rightly so. Then the lovely girl said: "You have told me well. For it you shall have rich clothes as your reward, and ten marks of gold, which I will have brought to you." That is why men are so glad to carry such news to rich ladies.
He was given his reward, the gold and the clothes. Then many a beautiful girl went to the windows and watched the roads, and there they saw them riding, many high-spirited men, into Burgundy. The unhurt came, and the wounded came too, and they could hear the greetings of their friends without any shame. The host rode out joyfully to meet his guests; his great sorrow had ended in joy. He received his own men well, and the strangers just the same, for nothing else would have been fitting for a mighty king than to thank those who had come back to him kindly, because they had won the victory with honor in the storm of battle.
Gunther asked for news of his kinsmen, who had been killed on the campaign. He had lost no one but sixty men, and they had to be mourned, as heroes always are. The unhurt brought many a hacked shield and many a battered helmet into Gunther's land. The troops dismounted in front of the king's hall, and a joyful clamor of welcome was heard. Then the warriors were given lodging in the town. The king asked that his guests be well looked after; he had the wounded tended and made comfortable. His goodness showed itself plainly in how he treated his enemies.
He said to Liudegast: "Now you are welcome here. I have suffered great damage through your fault; that will be repaid me now, if I have any luck. God reward my friends; they have given me joy."
"You may well thank them," said Liudeger. "No king ever won such noble hostages before. For fair treatment we will give great wealth, so that you deal mercifully with your enemies."
"I will let you both go free," said Gunther, "on condition that my enemies stay here with me. For that I want sureties, that they will not leave my lands without my leave." Liudeger gave his hand on it.
They were taken to rest and made comfortable. The wounded were bedded down kindly, and the unhurt were served mead and good wine, and the household could not have been merrier. Their hacked shields were carried off for safekeeping. Of bloody saddles there were plenty, and these were ordered hidden away so that the women would not weep. Many a good knight came home worn out from the war. The king looked after his guests wonderfully well; the land was full of strangers and of his own people. He asked that the badly wounded be cared for kindly. As for the enemies' arrogance, it had been laid very low. Those who knew the healing arts were offered rich pay, silver unweighed and bright gold besides, to heal the heroes after the ordeal of the battle, and on top of that the king offered his guests great gifts.
Those who had a mind to go home were asked to stay longer, as one does with friends. Then the king took counsel on how he should reward his men, for they had done his will with great honor. Lord Gernot said: "Let them ride home. But let them know that in six weeks they are to come back for a festival. By then many a man who now lies badly wounded will be healed."
Siegfried of the Netherlands asked for leave too, but when King Gunther learned what he wanted, he begged him lovingly to stay a while longer. If it had not been for the king's beautiful sister, Siegfried would never have agreed. Besides, Siegfried was too rich to take any pay, though he had well deserved it. The king was fond of him, and so were the king's kinsmen; they had seen what his strength had done in that battle. For the sake of the beautiful girl, he thought he would stay, in case he might get to see her. Later that happened: he came to know the girl just as he had wished, and later he rode home glad to Siegmund's land.
The host had knightly sports held at all hours, and many a young warrior joined in gladly. Meanwhile he had seats built on the river sand outside Worms for the guests who were to come to Burgundy. Right at the time when they were due to arrive, beautiful Kriemhild heard the news that the king meant to hold a festival for the sake of his dear friends. Then the beautiful women set to work in earnest on the dresses and headbands they were to wear. Ute, the great queen, heard the news of the proud warriors who were coming, and many rich gowns were taken out of the chests. For love of her children she had clothes made ready, and with them many a lady and many a girl were adorned, and many young warriors of Burgundy as well. And for many of the strangers, too, she had splendid garments made.
Every day now you could see them riding to the Rhine, the men who wanted to be at the festival. Many of those who came into the land for the king's sake were given horses and splendid clothes. Seats were made ready for them all, for the highest and the best, as we are told: thirty-two princes at that festival. And the beautiful women dressed for it as if in a contest with one another.
Young Giselher was kept very busy. He and Gernot, and both their companies of men, received the guests, strangers and old acquaintances alike, with great kindness, and truly they greeted the warriors as honor required. The visitors brought a great many gold-red saddles into the land, and fine shields and splendid clothes, to the festival on the Rhine. Many a wounded man was seen in good spirits afterwards. Even the men lying in their beds in the pain of their wounds had to forget how hard death was. People stopped mourning for the sick and injured and rejoiced instead at the news of the festival days coming, and at how well they would live at the feast. All the people who could be found there had joy beyond measure and more delight than they could hold, and great rejoicing rose over the whole of Gunther's land.
On a Whitsun morning, a great many bold men were seen going out in glorious clothes, five thousand of them or more, to the festival, and on every side the entertainments began, each outdoing the next. The host had his wits about him. He knew very well how deeply the hero from the Netherlands loved his sister, the girl everyone called more beautiful than any maiden alive, though Siegfried had never seen her.
Then the warrior Ortwin said to the king: "If you want to be at this festival with full honor, then you should let people see the lovely girls who live here in Burgundy in such great honor. What is a man's delight, what gladdens his heart, if not beautiful girls and splendid women? Let your sister go out before your guests." That advice was given to the joy of many a hero.
"I will gladly do that," said the king, and everyone who learned of it was very glad. He sent word to Lady Ute and her lovely daughter that they should come to court with their maidens. Then good clothes were fetched out of the chests, all the noble garments they could find folded away there, and bracelets and braided trimmings, of which they had plenty, and many a lovely girl dressed herself with care. Many a young warrior that day set his heart on being a fine sight for the ladies, and would not have traded the chance for a mighty king's land. They were eager to look at the women they had never seen before.
Then the mighty king ordered a good hundred of his men, his kinsmen and hers, to go with his sister and attend her; they carried swords in their hands. That was the court household of Burgundy. Ute, that great lady, was seen coming with her. She had chosen beautiful women for her company, a hundred or more, in rich clothes, and behind her daughter came many a lovely girl. They were seen coming all together out of the women's chambers, and then there was a great crush of heroes shoving forward, every one of them hoping, if it could possibly be done, to catch a happy sight of the noble girl.
Now the lovely one came out, like the red of dawn breaking from dark clouds. And the man who had carried her in his heart for so long was free of many a sorrow in that moment: he saw the lovely girl standing there before him in all her glory. Precious stones shone all over her dress, and her rose-red color glowed. Whatever anyone might have wished for, no one could say he had ever seen anything more beautiful in this world. As the bright moon stands before the stars, when its light falls so clear from the clouds, so she stood now before many a fine lady, and the spirits of the handsome heroes rose high at the sight.
The richly dressed chamberlains walked ahead of her, but the high-spirited warriors would not stop pressing forward to wherever they could see the lovely girl. And Lord Siegfried felt both joy and sorrow. He thought to himself: "How could it ever happen that I should love you? That is a fool's dream. But if I must stay a stranger to you, I would sooner be dead." Those thoughts turned him pale and red by turns. Siegmund's son stood there so graceful, it was as if a master artist had drawn him on parchment; people said that no hero so handsome had ever been seen. The ladies' escort ordered everyone to make way on all sides, and many a warrior did so. Those proud hearts gladdened many a man, and many a splendid woman was seen there in perfect courtesy.
Then Lord Gernot of Burgundy spoke: "Gunther, dear brother, the man who offered you his service so kindly — you should do the same for him, here before all these warriors. I will never be ashamed of that advice. Have Siegfried come to my sister, so that the girl may greet him. We will always profit by it. She who has never greeted a warrior shall greet this one, and that way we win that fine warrior for ourselves."
So the host's kinsmen went to where the hero was. They said to the warrior from the Netherlands: "The king has given you leave to go to court. His sister is to greet you. This is done to honor you." The lord was glad of it in his heart, and he carried joy there with no sorrow in it, that he was going to see fair Ute's child. With lovely grace she greeted Siegfried then.
When she saw that high-spirited man standing in front of her, his color flared. The beautiful girl said: "Welcome, Lord Siegfried, noble and good knight." And at her greeting his spirits rose high. He bowed to her with care, and she took him by the hand. How lovingly he walked at the lady's side! They looked at each other with tender glances, the lord and the lady, very secretly. Whether a white hand was pressed there in affection, out of heartfelt love, I cannot tell you. But I cannot believe it was left undone. She had quickly let him know that she wished him well. In the summertime, and in the days of May, he would never again carry in his heart so much high joy as he won there, when the woman he wanted for his love walked at his hand.
Many a warrior thought: "If only that had happened to me, to walk beside her the way I see him do, or to lie beside her — I would not object to that!" No warrior ever earned a princess so well. The guests, whatever kings' lands they had come from, had eyes for only those two. She was permitted to kiss the handsome man, and nothing so sweet had ever happened to him in all the world.
The king of Denmark said at once: "Because of this high greeting, many a man lies wounded by Siegfried's hand, and I feel that keenly myself. God never let him come into my kingdom again."
Then on every side they called for people to make way for fair Kriemhild, and many a bold warrior was seen walking with her in courtly order to church. There the handsome man was parted from her. She went into the cathedral with many women following her. The princess was so beautifully adorned that many a high hope was lost there; she had been made to be a feast for many a warrior's eyes. Siegfried could hardly wait for the singing of the Mass to end. He could thank his good fortune forever that the girl he carried in his heart was so well disposed toward him. And he loved the beautiful girl, as he had every reason to.
When she came out of the cathedral, the bold warrior was asked to go to her again, as he had done before. Now for the first time the lovely girl began to thank him for having fought so gloriously before so many heroes. "God reward you, Lord Siegfried," said the beautiful girl, "for earning the warriors' devotion with such true loyalty, as I hear them all say." Then he began to look lovingly at Lady Kriemhild.
"I will serve them always," said the warrior, "and I will never lay my head to rest until I have done their will, as long as I live. And all of it, my lady Kriemhild, is done to win your favor."
For twelve days, every one of them, the praiseworthy girl was seen at the warrior's side whenever she had to go to court before her kinsmen. That service was done for the warrior out of great affection. Every day there was joy and delight and a great noise in front of Gunther's hall, outside it and inside too, from many a bold man. Ortwin and Hagen performed great wonders. Whatever anyone wanted to play, those gallant heroes were ready for it, in full measure, and so the guests came to know the warriors well, and the whole of Gunther's land was adorned by it. Even the men who had lain wounded were seen coming out; they wanted their share of the sport with the household, fencing with shields and throwing javelin after javelin. Plenty of men helped them; there were great numbers of them.
For the whole festival the host had them cared for with the best of food. He had made up his mind to avoid every kind of disgrace that ever befell a king, and he was seen going among his guests in a friendly way. He said: "Good warriors, before you ride away, take my gifts. That is my intention; I will always be grateful if you do. Do not scorn what I have. I want to share it with you, and I do so gladly."
The men of Denmark answered at once: "Before we ride home to our own land, we want a lasting peace. We warriors need it. We have many a dear kinsman lying dead at your warriors' hands." Liudegast was healed of his wounds, and the lord of the Saxons had recovered after the battle, though they were leaving some of their dead in the land. Then King Gunther went to find Siegfried.
He said to the warrior: "Advise me what to do. Our enemies want to ride out early tomorrow, and they are asking me and my men for a lasting peace. Now advise me, warrior Siegfried, what you think is the right thing. I will tell you what the lords are offering: as much gold as five hundred horses could carry, and they would give it gladly if I let them go free."
Strong Siegfried said: "That would be badly done. You should let them ride away free, on the condition that those noble warriors never again come riding into your land as enemies. Have both lords give you their hands on it, here, as surety."
"I will follow that advice." With that they parted. His enemies were told that no one wanted the gold they had offered. At home their dear kinsmen were longing for the battle-weary men. Many shields heaped with treasure were carried in, and Gunther shared it out unweighed among his friends, five hundred marks apiece and for some a good deal more. Bold Gernot had advised him to do that. Then they all took their leave, since they wanted to go. The guests were seen going before Kriemhild and before Lady Ute, the queen, where she sat. Never were warriors sent on their way more handsomely.
The lodgings stood empty when they had ridden off. But the king stayed on at home in lordly style, with his kinsmen and many a noble man, and every day they were seen going to Lady Kriemhild. Now Siegfried, that good hero, wanted to take his leave too; he had no hope of winning what his heart was set on. The king heard that he meant to go, and young Giselher talked him out of the journey completely.
"Where would you ride to now, noble Siegfried? Stay with the warriors, do as I ask you, stay with King Gunther and his men. There are many beautiful women here, and we will gladly let you see them."
Strong Siegfried said: "Leave the horses standing. I meant to ride away, but I give it up. Take the shields back too. Truly, I wanted to go home to my own land, but Lord Giselher has turned me from it with great loyalty."
So the bold man stayed, for the love of his friends, and there was nowhere in all the lands he could have been so content; and the reason was that now he saw fair Kriemhild every day. For her boundless beauty the lord stayed on. They passed the time with many pastimes, except that her love tormented him and often gave him great distress. And for that love, later, the bold man lay pitifully dead.
Fresh news came up the Rhine. People said that over there lived many a beautiful girl, and good King Gunther thought he would win one of them for himself, and the idea sent the warrior's spirits soaring.
There was a queen who lived across the sea, and no one knew of her equal anywhere. She was beautiful beyond measure and her strength was enormous. For her love she threw the javelin against swift warriors; she hurled the stone a great distance and then leaped far after it. Any man who wanted her love had to win three games against that highborn lady, every one of them without fail, and if he lost at even one, his head was forfeit. The young lady had done this many, many times. A handsome knight by the Rhine heard of it, and he set his mind on that beautiful woman, and because of that, heroes would later lose their lives.
The lord of the Rhine said: "I will go down to the sea, to Brunhild, whatever comes of it for me. For her love I will stake my life, and I will lose it unless she becomes my wife."
"I advise against it," said Siegfried. "The queen keeps such terrible customs that any man who courts her love pays a high price for it. You would truly do well to give up the journey."
"Then here is my advice," said Hagen. "Ask Siegfried to carry the heavy load with you. That is my counsel now, since he knows so well how things stand with Brunhild."
The king said: "Will you help me, noble Siegfried, to win that lovely woman? Do what I ask of you, and if she becomes my beloved wife, I will stake my honor and my life for your sake."
Siegfried, Siegmund's son, answered: "Give me your sister, beautiful Kriemhild, that noble princess, and I will do it. I want no other reward for my pains."
"I pledge it, Siegfried, in your hand," said Gunther. "If beautiful Brunhild comes here into this land, I will give you my sister for your wife, and you can live happily with that beauty for the rest of your days."
So the noble warriors swore oaths on it. And from that their hardships grew far greater before they brought the lady to the Rhine; because of it, those bold men later found themselves in deep trouble.
Siegfried had to take the cloak away with him, the one the bold hero had won, at great risk, from a dwarf named Alberich. The bold and mighty warriors made ready for the journey. Whenever strong Siegfried wore that cloak of invisibility he had strength enough: the strength of a full twelve men on top of his own. With great cunning he won that splendid woman. The magic cloak was made in such a way that anyone inside it could do whatever he liked, and still no one could see him. That is how he won Brunhild, and sorrow came to him for it.
"Now tell me, Siegfried, before my journey begins: if we are to arrive at the sea with honor, should we take warriors into Brunhild's land? Thirty thousand fighting men could be summoned quickly enough."
"However many men we took," Siegfried answered, "the queen keeps such terrible customs that every one of them would die of her arrogance. I will show you a better way, bold and worthy warrior. We will go down the Rhine like knights traveling on their own, and I will name you the men it must be: just four warriors, we will go to the sea, and that is how we will win the lady, whatever happens to us afterward. I am one of the four; you must be the second; let Hagen be the third, and we may well come through alive; and the fourth Dankwart, that very bold man. A thousand others would never dare to stand against us in a fight."
"I would like to know one thing," the king said, "before we leave here, and I would be very glad of it: what clothes should we wear in front of Brunhild, what would suit us there? You must tell Gunther that."
"The very best clothing anyone ever found is worn at all times in Brunhild's land. So we must wear rich clothes before the lady, or we will be shamed when people hear the story told."
The good warrior said: "Then I will go myself to my dear mother and see if I can persuade her to have her beautiful maids help make us clothes we can wear with honor before that glorious girl."
Hagen of Tronje said, in his lordly way: "Why would you ask your mother for a service like that? Let your sister hear what you have in mind. Her help will serve you well on this journey to a foreign court."
So he sent word to his sister that he wished to see her, and the warrior Siegfried too. Before they came, the beauty had dressed herself to perfection. The coming of those bold men gave her no grief at all. Her household too was dressed as befitted it. The two princes came, and when she heard it she rose from her seat and went with perfect courtesy to receive the noble guest and her brother.
"My brother is welcome, and his companion with him. I would like to know," the girl said, "what you lords want, since you come to court. Let me hear how things stand with you noble warriors."
King Gunther said: "My lady, I will tell you. Along with our high spirits we have great cares to carry. We mean to ride courting, far into foreign lands, and for the journey we ought to have fine clothes."
"Now sit down, dear brother," said the king's daughter, "and let me hear exactly who these ladies are that you want to woo in other kings' lands." The lady took both those chosen men by the hand and went with them to where she had been sitting before, on rich cushions, I know it well, worked with fine figures raised in gold. There the men could pass the time pleasantly among the ladies. Friendly glances and kindly looks: a great many of those passed between the two of them. He carried her in his heart; she was as dear to him as his own life. Later beautiful Kriemhild became strong Siegfried's wife.
The mighty king said: "My dearest sister, without your help it cannot be done. We want to go adventuring in Brunhild's land, and there we will need splendid clothes to wear in front of the ladies."
The young lady said: "My dear brother, whatever help of mine can be of any use, I will show you that I am ready to give it. If anyone else refused you, that would grieve Kriemhild. Noble knight, you should not ask me anxiously; you should command me, like a lord. Whatever you want of me, I am ready, and I will do it gladly," said the lovely girl.
"We want to wear good clothes, dear sister, and your noble hand must help to make them. Let your maidens see it through so that it fits us properly, for nothing will talk us out of the journey."
The young lady said: "Now listen to what I say. I have silk of my own; now arrange to have gems brought to us on shields, and we will work the clothes." Gunther and Siegfried were ready to do that.
"Who are the companions," the princess said, "who are to be dressed to go to that court with you?" He said: "I make one of four. Two of my men, Dankwart and Hagen, go to court with me. And mark carefully what I tell you, my lady: each of us four is to wear, over four days, three changes of clothes apiece, and clothes so good that we leave Brunhild's land without shame."
The lords took proper leave and departed. Then Kriemhild the princess called thirty of her young ladies out of her chambers, maidens with great skill at that kind of work. Arabian silk as white as snow, and fine silk from Zazamanc as green as clover: into these they set the gems, and that made good clothes. Kriemhild, that glorious girl, cut them out herself. Well-made linings of the skins of strange fish, a rare sight for strangers' eyes, as many as could be got hold of, they covered over with silk, as the clothes were to be worn. Now hear great wonders told of that shining clothing. From the land of Morocco, and from Libya too, the very best silks that any king's house ever owned: they had plenty of those, and Kriemhild made it plain how fond she was of the two men. Since the heroes had set their hearts on so grand a journey, ermine furs seemed nothing special to them; over the fur lay silk as black as coal, the kind that would still look fine on swift heroes at a feast today. Out of Arabian gold shone many a gem. The ladies' labor was no small thing: within seven weeks they had the clothes ready. And by then the good warriors' weapons were ready too.
When they were all prepared, a strong little ship had been carefully built for them on the Rhine, to carry them all the way down to the sea. The noble young ladies ached from their work. The warriors were told that the fine clothes they were to take with them were now ready; just as they had wished, it was done. And now they would not stay by the Rhine a moment longer.
A messenger was sent to the companions, asking if they would like to look over their new clothes, in case anything was too short or too long for the heroes. Everything fit exactly, and they thanked the ladies for it. Everyone who came to look had to admit they had never seen anything better in all the world. So the men could wear them proudly at that court; no one could tell of finer clothes on a warrior. Great thanks were given, and not sparingly. Then the gallant heroes asked leave to go, and the lords did it with knightly courtesy. And bright eyes grew dim and wet with weeping.
She said: "Dear brother, you could still stay here and court other ladies, where your life would not hang on the outcome; I would call that well done. You could find a woman just as highborn closer to home."
I think their hearts told them what would come of it. They all wept alike, no matter what anyone said. The gold on their breasts grew dull with the tears that poured so thickly down from their eyes.
She said: "Lord Siegfried, let my dear brother be entrusted to you, on your loyalty and your good faith, so that nothing harms him in Brunhild's land." The bold man promised it into Lady Kriemhild's hand.
The mighty warrior said: "As long as my life lasts, my lady, you may be free of every worry. I will bring him safely back to you here on the Rhine; know that for certain." The beautiful girl bowed to him.
Their gold-colored shields were carried down to the sand for them, and all their gear was brought to them. Their horses were led up; they were ready to ride away. And the beautiful women wept and wept. The lovely girls stood at the windows. A strong wind stirred the ship and its sail. The proud companions took their places on the Rhine, and King Gunther said: "Now who is to be master of the ship?"
"I will," said Siegfried. "I can steer you well on the water from here, good heroes, believe me; the right waterways are well known to me." So they set out in high spirits from the Burgundians' land.
Siegfried quickly took up a pole, and the powerful man pushed them off from the bank. Bold Gunther took an oar himself, and so the swift, praiseworthy knights put out from the shore. They carried rich food with them and very good wine, the best to be found anywhere along the Rhine. Their horses stood comfortably; they were well looked after. The ship ran very smoothly; very little went wrong for them. Their strong sail-ropes were drawn taut, and with a good wind they sailed twenty of the old long miles before night fell, down toward the sea. Their hard labor would later bring those high-spirited men pain.
On the twelfth morning, as we hear tell, the winds had carried them far away, to Isenstein in Brunhild's land. Not one of them knew it except Siegfried. When King Gunther saw so many castles and the wide marches too, how quickly he spoke up: "Tell me, friend Siegfried, do you know whose castles these are, and whose this splendid land is?"
Siegfried answered: "I know it well. It is Brunhild's land and Brunhild's people, and the fortress of Isenstein, as you heard me say. There you may still see many a beautiful woman today. And I will give you heroes some advice: be of one mind and tell the same story; I think that is best. For when we go before Brunhild today, we will have to stand before the queen with great care. When we see that lovely woman among her household, you famous heroes must tell one tale and one only: that Gunther is my lord and I am his vassal. Then everything he hopes for will come to pass."
They were ready to promise whatever he asked of them; not one of them let arrogance stop him. They agreed to everything he wanted, and it served them well when King Gunther saw beautiful Brunhild.
"And I am not doing this so much out of love for you as for your sister, that beautiful girl. She is as dear to me as my soul and my own life. I will gladly earn it, that she becomes my wife."
By now their ship had come so close to the castle that the king could see many beautiful girls standing high up at the windows. It annoyed Gunther that he did not know who any of them were. He asked his companion Siegfried: "Do you know anything about these girls looking down at us on the water? Whoever their lord may be, they carry themselves very proudly."
Lord Siegfried said: "Now look quietly over the young ladies and tell me which one you would take, if you had the choosing of it."
"I will," said Gunther, a bold and daring knight. "I see one of them standing in that window over there, in a dress white as snow. She is so beautiful that my eyes would choose her for her loveliness alone. If I had the power, she would have to be my wife."
"Your eyes have chosen well for you. That is noble Brunhild, the beautiful girl your heart has been straining after, and your mind and your spirit with it." Everything about her looked good to Gunther.
Then the queen ordered her fine ladies away from the windows. They were not to stand there for strangers to stare at, and they obeyed. What the women did next has since been told to us as well. They dressed up for the strangers, as pretty women have always done, and then came back to the narrow windows where they could see the heroes. It was done for the sake of looking.
There were only four of them who had come to the land. Through the windows the fine ladies saw bold Siegfried lead a horse out onto the sand, and King Gunther felt himself honored by it. Siegfried held that handsome horse by the bridle, a good and beautiful animal, very big and very strong, until King Gunther was sitting in the saddle. That is how Siegfried served him, and later Gunther forgot it completely.
Then Siegfried led his own horse off the ship as well. He had very seldom done such a service before, standing at any hero's stirrup; and the fine, noble ladies saw it all through the windows. The two handsome heroes were a perfect match: their horses and their clothes were snow-white and exactly alike, and their fine shields shone in the splendid men's hands. Their saddles were set with jewels and their breast-straps were narrow. They rode in lordly style up to Brunhild's hall, with bells of bright red gold hanging from the straps. So they came into the land, as their courage demanded, with newly sharpened spears and well-made swords that hung down to these fine men's spurs; the bold warriors' swords were sharp and broad. And Brunhild, that splendid girl, saw all of it.
Dankwart and Hagen came with them. We hear it told how those warriors wore costly clothes of raven black, and their shields were handsome, big, good and broad. The jewels they wore were seen to be from the land of India, and glittered gloriously on their clothes. They left their little ship by the water with no one to guard it, and so the bold, good heroes rode up to the castle. Inside it they saw eighty-six towers, three wide palaces, and one well-built hall of fine marble, green as grass; and there Brunhild herself was, with her household.
The castle was unlocked and the gates stood wide open. Brunhild's men ran out to meet them and welcomed the guests into their lady's land, and gave orders for their horses to be stabled and their shields taken from their hands. Then a chamberlain said: "You must give us your swords, and your bright coats of mail as well."
"That you will not get," said Hagen of Tronje. "We mean to carry them ourselves."
Then Siegfried began to tell him how things really stood. "The custom in this castle, I will tell you, is that no guest may carry weapons here. Let them take them away; that is the right thing to do." Hagen, Gunther's man, went along with it very unwillingly. The guests were given wine to drink and made comfortable, and many quick warriors in princely clothes were seen walking about the court on every side. And the bold strangers were stared at, a great deal.
Now Lady Brunhild was told the news that unknown warriors had come sailing in on the water, in magnificent clothes, and the good and beautiful girl began to ask about them. "Let me hear," said the queen, "who these unknown warriors standing so grandly in my castle may be, and for whose love these heroes have traveled here."
One of her household said: "My lady, I can say that I have never seen any one of them before, but one standing among them looks like Siegfried. You should welcome him well; that is my loyal advice. The second of the companions is so impressive that he would easily be a mighty king over wide princely lands, if he had the power and could hold them. He stands among the others in a truly lordly way. The third of the companions is grim, and yet handsome too, great queen. From the fierce looks he keeps giving, I think his mind runs to anger. The youngest of them is so fine; I see that rich warrior standing there with a maiden's modesty, so well-mannered and so winning. And yet we would all have cause to fear if anyone here did him any harm. However gently he keeps his manners, and however handsome he is, he could make many a fine woman weep if he once got angry. He is built for it: in every quality he is a bold and daring warrior."
Then the queen said: "Now bring me my clothes. And if strong Siegfried has come into this land for the sake of my love, it will cost him his life. I am not so afraid of him that I would become his wife."
Beautiful Brunhild was soon well dressed. A great many lovely girls went out with her, a good hundred or more, all finely adorned; the fine women wanted to see the guests. And with them went warriors from Isenland, Brunhild's men, carrying swords in their hands, five hundred or more; the guests did not like that at all. The bold and gallant heroes rose from their seats.
When the queen saw Siegfried, now you may gladly hear what the girl said. "Welcome, Siegfried, here in this land. What does your journey mean? I would like to know."
"You do me very great grace, my Lady Brunhild, generous prince's daughter, in greeting me first, ahead of this noble warrior standing here in front of me. He is my lord. That honor I would rather do without. He was born on the Rhine; what more need I tell you? It is for your love that we have traveled here. He means to woo you, whatever comes of it for him. Think it over now, while there is time: my lord will not let you off. His name is Gunther and he is a great king. If he won your love, he would ask for nothing more. Yes, it was that handsome warrior who ordered me to come here. If I could have refused him, I would gladly have stayed away."
She said: "If he is your lord and you are his vassal, then let him dare to try the games I set him. If he comes out the master, I will be his wife; and if I win, it will cost every one of you his life."
Then Hagen of Tronje said: "My lady, let us see these mighty games of yours. Before Gunther, my lord, had to yield to you, it would have to go very hard indeed. He is quite confident he can win a girl as beautiful as you."
"He must throw the stone and jump after it, and throw the javelin against me. Do not be in too much of a hurry. You may well lose your honor here, and your lives as well. Think it over very carefully," said the lovely woman.
Bold Siegfried went over to the king and told him to say everything that was on his mind to the queen; he need have no fear of her. "I will protect you from her with my arts."
Then King Gunther said: "Great queen, set whatever tasks you command, and even if there were more of them, I would face them all for the sake of your beauty. I will lose my head unless you become my wife."
When the queen heard that, she asked for the games to be hurried on, as was only proper. She had good fighting gear brought for herself: a coat of mail of red gold and a good shield. The girl put on a silk surcoat that no weapon had ever cut through in any fight, of fine silk from Libya, beautifully made, with bright embroidered borders shining on it.
All this while the warriors were being jeered at and threatened. Dankwart and Hagen were in no cheerful mood; they were worried about how the king would come out of it. They thought: "This trip is not going to do us warriors any good."
Meanwhile Siegfried, that fine man, had gone back to the ship before anyone noticed, where he found the cloak of invisibility lying where he had hidden it. He slipped into it quickly, and then no one could see him. He hurried back and found a great crowd of warriors where the queen was setting out her lofty games. He went in among them unseen, by the cloak's arts, so that not one of all those present saw him.
The ring had been marked out where the games were to take place, in front of many bold warriors who were to watch them. More than seven hundred of them were seen carrying weapons, and whoever won the game, they were to say so.
Brunhild had come. They found her armed as if she meant to fight for a whole kingdom. Over the silk she wore many bars of gold, and her lovely coloring shone out gloriously beneath. Then her household came, carrying a shield of pure red gold with bands of hard steel, very big and broad, which the lovely girl meant to fight behind. The lady's shield-strap was a noble band with stones on it green as grass, of many kinds, that flashed against the gold. The man that lady gave her heart to would have to be very bold. The shield the girl was to carry was a good three spans thick under the boss, so we are told, and rich enough in steel and gold that her chamberlain and three others could hardly carry it.
When strong Hagen saw that shield brought in, the hero of Tronje spoke in a grim temper: "What now, King Gunther? How we are going to lose our lives! The one you want to love is the devil's wife."
Hear more about her clothes, for she had plenty of them. She wore a surcoat of silk from Azagouc, noble and costly, and against its color many a splendid stone shone on the queen. Then they brought the lady a javelin, very heavy and big, sharp, strong and monstrous, huge and broad, the one she always threw, and its edges cut most horribly. Hear wonders told of that javelin's weight: a good three and a half measures of iron had gone into the forging of it, and three of Brunhild's men could barely carry it. Noble Gunther began to be badly afraid.
He thought to himself: "What is this? How could the devil out of hell survive her? If I were back in Burgundy with my life, she could stay free of my love for a long, long time."
Then Hagen's brother, bold Dankwart, said: "I am sorry from the bottom of my heart that we ever came to this court. We have always been called warriors; how we are going to lose our lives, if women are to get the better of us in this land! It galls me badly that I ever came into this country. If my brother Hagen had his weapon in his hand, and I had mine, then all Brunhild's men might walk a little more softly with their arrogance. You can be sure of that; they would take good care. And even if I had sworn a thousand oaths to keep the peace, before I watched my dear lord die, that beautiful girl would have to lose her life."
"We could leave this land uncaptured," said his brother Hagen, "if we had the armor we need in this extremity, and our good swords too. Then the strong lady's arrogance would be nicely tamed."
The noble girl heard very well what the warrior said. With a smile on her lips she looked back over her shoulder. "Since he thinks himself so bold, bring them their armor and put their sharp weapons into the warriors' hands."
When they had their swords again, as the girl ordered, bold Dankwart went red with joy. "Now let them play whatever they like," said the quick man. "Gunther cannot be beaten, now that we have our weapons."
Brunhild's strength was shown on a grand scale. A heavy stone was carried to her in the ring, huge and monstrous, very big and round; twelve bold, quick heroes could barely carry it. She always threw that after she had thrown the javelin. The Burgundians' fears grew very great. "God help us," said Hagen, "what has the king got himself for a sweetheart? She ought to be the foul devil's bride in hell!"
She rolled the sleeves back on her white arms. She took up the shield on her arm and raised the javelin high, and so the fight began. Gunther and Siegfried feared Brunhild's hatred, and if Siegfried had not come to help him, she would have had the king's life. He went up to him unseen and touched his hand, and Gunther, very alarmed, felt his arts at work. "What touched me?" thought the bold man. He looked all round and found no one standing there. Then Siegfried said: "It is I, Siegfried, your dear friend. You need have no fear at all of the queen. Give me the shield from your hand and let me carry it, and mark carefully what you hear me say. You make the motions; I will do the work." When Gunther knew who it was, it was a joy to him. "Now keep my arts hidden; you must never tell anyone. That way the queen will win very little glory from you, whatever she has in mind. Look how carelessly the lady stands there in front of you."
Then the splendid girl threw with all her strength, at a shield new, big and broad, that Sieglinde's son carried on his arm. The fire sprang from the steel as if the wind were blowing it. The edge of that mighty javelin broke clean through the shield, so that you could see flame leap out of the rings of the mail. The two strong men both staggered under the throw, and but for the cloak of invisibility they would have lain there dead. Blood burst from bold Siegfried's mouth. But he sprang back fast, and the good hero took hold of the javelin she had driven through his shield, and strong Siegfried's hand sent it back at her. He thought: "I will not pierce that beautiful girl." So he turned the javelin's edge behind his back and threw it butt-end first against her armor, so hard from his powerful hand that it rang out loud. The fire flew from her mail-rings as if the wind were driving it. Siegmund's son had thrown with real force: with all her strength she could not keep her feet against that throw. Truly, King Gunther could never have done it.
Beautiful Brunhild was on her feet again fast. "Gunther, noble knight, my thanks for that throw!" She thought he had done it with his own strength. A far stronger man had crept up on her. Then she went quickly, in a furious temper, and the noble, good girl lifted the stone high, swung it with great force far from her hand, and sprang after her throw, and all her armor rang. The stone had landed a full twelve fathoms away, and with her leap the beautiful girl outdid the throw. Then Lord Siegfried went to where the stone lay. Gunther heaved at it, and it was the hero who threw it. Siegfried was bold, very strong and very tall. He threw the stone further and jumped further too, and by his fine arts he had strength enough to carry King Gunther with him in the jump.
The jump was over, the stone was lying there, and nobody could be seen but Gunther the warrior. Beautiful Brunhild went red with anger. Siegfried had put King Gunther's death a long way off. When she saw him standing safe and sound at the edge of the ring, she spoke to her household, rather too loudly: "Come here, quickly, all my kinsmen and my vassals. You are all to be King Gunther's subjects now."
Then the bold men laid their weapons down and bowed at the feet of mighty Gunther of Burgundy, many a bold man of them. They thought he had won the games with his own strength. He greeted them lovingly; truly, he was rich in every grace. Then the admirable girl took him by the hand and granted him power over everything there, and Hagen, that bold and daring warrior, rejoiced at it.
She asked the noble knight to go with her into the wide great hall, and so it was done. Then the warriors were served better than before. Dankwart and Hagen had to let that be, with no ill will. Quick Siegfried was wise enough. He went and put his cloak of invisibility away, and came back to where many ladies were sitting, and said to the king, very cleverly: "What are you waiting for, my lord? Why do you not begin the games the queen is setting you so many of? Let us see at once what they are like." The cunning man acted as if he knew nothing about it.
Then the queen said: "How does this come about, Lord Siegfried, that you have not seen the games that Gunther's hand has won here?" Hagen of Burgundy answered her. He said: "You had put us in low spirits, my lady. Siegfried, that good hero, was down by the ship when the lord of the Rhine won the games from you. That is why he knows nothing about it," said Gunther's man.
"Good news for me," said Siegfried the warrior, "that your pride has been laid so low here, and that a man lives who can be your master. Now, noble maiden, you must follow us home to the Rhine."
The beautiful woman said: "That cannot be. My kinsmen and my vassals must hear of it first. I cannot leave my land so lightly as that; my best friends must be sent for first."
Then she had messengers ride out in all directions. She summoned her friends, her kinsmen and her vassals, and asked them to come to Isenstein without delay, and ordered that all of them be given rich and splendid clothes. Daily, late and early, they came riding in troops to Brunhild's castle. "Oh, no," said Hagen. "What have we done? We have waited here for beautiful Brunhild's men to our own great harm. If they come into this land now in strength, we do not know what the queen intends. What if she is so angry that we are lost? Then that noble girl was born to be the ruin of us."
Strong Siegfried said: "I will take care of that. What you are worried about, I will not let happen. I will bring you help here into this land, chosen warriors you have never yet known. Do not ask after me; I am going away. Meanwhile may God keep your honor safe. I will be back soon, and I will bring a thousand men, the very best warriors I have ever known."
"Only do not be too long," said the king. "We have good reason to be glad of your help."
"I will be back in a very few days," he said. "Tell Brunhild that you sent me."
Then Siegfried went out through the gate and down to the sand, wrapped in his cloak of invisibility, and there he found a small boat. Siegmund's son stepped into it in secret and drove it away from shore as fast as if the wind were blowing it. No one could see the boatman. The little boat flew along, driven by Siegfried's strength, which was very great. People thought some uncommonly strong wind was pushing it. No: it was Siegfried driving it, the son of beautiful Sieglinde.
In the space of a day and one night, by his tremendous strength, he came to a land more than a hundred days' journey away. Its people were called the Nibelungs, and there he kept the great treasure. The hero sailed alone to a broad island, and the handsome knight quickly tied up the boat. Then he walked up to a mountain with a castle standing on it and asked for lodging, as travelers worn out from the road do.
He came to the gate and found it locked against him. Truly, these people guarded their honor, as people still do. The stranger began to pound on the door, which was well guarded, and inside he found a huge brute of a man keeping watch over the castle, with his weapons lying beside him at all hours. "Who is that," he said, "hammering so hard on the gate?" Lord Siegfried, standing outside, disguised his voice. "I am a warrior," he said. "Now unlock the gate, or before the day is out I will have made some of you angry out here, some man who would rather lie soft and take his ease." What Lord Siegfried said made the gatekeeper furious.
By now the bold giant had put on his armor and set his helmet on his head. The powerful man snatched up his shield, swung the gate open, and ran at Siegfried with savage fury. How dare he wake so many bold men! Swift blows came from the giant's hand. The noble guest began to defend himself, and then the gatekeeper burst the clasps of Siegfried's shield apart with an iron bar. The hero was in real danger now, and Siegfried began to be somewhat afraid of dying, the gatekeeper struck with such strength. For that, his master Siegfried thought well of him afterward.
They fought so hard that the whole castle rang with it, and the din was heard in Nibelung's hall. He overpowered the gatekeeper and then bound him, and the news of it spread through all the Nibelung land. Far through the mountain Alberich heard the fierce fighting: a wild dwarf, and a very bold one. He armed himself at once and ran to where he found the noble guest tying up the giant. Alberich was fierce and more than strong enough. He wore a helmet and mail on his body and carried a heavy whip of gold in his hand, and he ran at full speed to where Siegfried stood. Seven heavy knobs hung from the front of the whip, and with them he beat the shield on the bold man's arm so cruelly that much of it was smashed to pieces. The handsome guest began to fear for his life.
He flung the shattered shield from his arm and thrust his sword, a long one, back into its sheath. He had no wish to strike his own chamberlain dead; he held himself back, as his good breeding required. He rushed at Alberich with his strong hands, seized the old gray-bearded man by the beard, and hauled on it so roughly that Alberich screamed out loud. The young hero's handling hurt him badly.
The bold dwarf cried out loud: "Let me live! If I could be any warrior's bondsman but one — I have sworn him oaths that I am his subject — I would serve you till I died." That was a cunning man talking. He bound Alberich as he had bound the giant before, and Siegfried's strength hurt him badly. The dwarf asked: "What is your name?"
"My name is Siegfried," he said. "I thought you knew me well."
"How glad I am to hear it!" said Alberich the dwarf. "Now I have seen for myself, from your fighting, that you have every right to be lord of this land. I will do whatever you command, if you let me live."
Then Lord Siegfried said: "Go quickly and bring me the best warriors we have, a thousand Nibelungs, so that they can see me here." Why he wanted that, no one ever heard him say. He untied the giant and Alberich, and Alberich ran straight to where the warriors lay. Anxiously he woke the Nibelung men. "Up, heroes!" he said. "You are to go to Siegfried."
They sprang from their beds, all of them ready and willing. A thousand quick knights dressed themselves well and went to where they found Siegfried standing, and there was a handsome greeting, part of it in deeds. Many candles were lit, and they poured him spiced wine. He thanked them all for coming so fast. "You are to cross the water with me," he said, and he found the bold and good heroes very willing.
A good three thousand warriors had come at once, and from them the best thousand were chosen. Their helmets were brought to them, and the rest of their gear, because he meant to take them into Brunhild's land. "Good knights," he said, "I will tell you this: you must wear very rich clothes at court there, because many lovely women will be looking at us. So dress yourselves in fine attire."
Early one morning they set out. What swift companions Siegfried had won! They took good horses and splendid clothing with them, and so they came in knightly style into Brunhild's land.
The lovely girls were standing on the battlements. "Does anyone know," the queen said, "who those are that I see sailing so far out on the sea? They carry rich sails, whiter than snow." The king of the Rhine said: "They are my men. I left them behind near here on the journey; I sent for them, and now they have come, my lady." Everyone looked hard at the magnificent strangers.
Then they saw Siegfried standing at the prow of one of the ships in splendid clothes, and many other men. "Sir King," the queen said, "you must tell me: am I to receive these guests, or am I to withhold my greeting?" He said: "You should go out to meet them in front of the great hall, so that they understand we are glad to see them." The queen did as the king advised her, and by her greeting she set Siegfried apart from the others.
Lodgings were found for the guests, and their gear was taken into safekeeping. So many visitors had now come into the land that they crowded each other everywhere in their companies. Now the bold Burgundians wanted to go home to their own country.
The queen said: "I would be grateful to anyone who knew how to share out my silver and gold, of which I have so much, among the king's guests and mine." Dankwart, King Giselher's vassal, answered her: "Most noble queen, let me keep the keys. I trust myself to share it out," said the bold warrior, "and whatever disgrace I earn for it, let it be mine alone." That he was open-handed, the warrior made very plain.
Once Hagen's brother had taken charge of the keys, the hero's hand gave out gift after rich gift. Whoever asked for a mark was given so much that all the poor could live in comfort. He gave by the hundred pounds without counting, and plenty of men who had never worn such splendid clothes in their lives walked in front of the hall in rich dress. The queen heard of it, and truly, it grieved her.
The noble lady said: "Sir King, I could do without your chamberlain's plan to leave me nothing of my own wardrobe. He is squandering my gold. If anyone would put a stop to it, I would be grateful to him forever. He gives such rich gifts that the warrior must think I have sent for my own death. I mean to go on using it for a good while yet, and I trust myself to spend what my father left me. No queen ever had such a generous chamberlain."
Then Hagen of Tronje said: "My lady, let me tell you: the king of the Rhine has so much gold and so many clothes to give away that we have no need to carry off any of Brunhild's wardrobe." "No," said the queen, "for my sake, let me fill twenty traveling chests with gold and silk, so that my own hand has something to give when we come across to Gunther's land."
The chests were loaded with precious stones, and her own chamberlains had to stand by while it was done; she would not trust Gunther's man with it. Gunther and Hagen began to laugh at that.
The queen said: "To whom shall I leave my lands? Your hand and mine must first appoint someone." The noble king said: "Call forward whoever you think fit for it, and we will leave him here as ruler." The lady saw one of her highest kinsmen standing near her; it was her mother's brother. She said to him: "Now let my castles and my lands be in your keeping, until King Gunther's hand rules here."
Then she chose two thousand men from her household to travel with her to Burgundy, along with those thousand warriors from the Nibelung land. They made ready for the journey, and you could see them riding down onto the sand. She took eighty-six women with her and a hundred maidens as well, all of them very beautiful. They delayed no longer; they were eager to be off. Oh, how the people they left at home began to weep!
With courtly grace she left her own land. She kissed her close kinsmen, those she found around her, and after a proper leave-taking they came to the sea. To her father's land the lady never came again. On the voyage all sorts of games were heard, and they had plenty of amusement, for a true sea wind came to help them on their journey. So they sailed away from the land in great high spirits.
But she would not let her lord make love to her on the voyage. That pleasure was saved until they were home, in the castle at Worms, at the wedding feast, where in time she and her heroes arrived in great joy.
When they had been on the water a full nine days, Hagen of Tronje spoke up: "Now listen to what I say. We are slow with our news for Worms on the Rhine. Your messengers should be in Burgundy by now."
King Gunther said: "You are right. And no one would be so well suited to that errand as you, my friend Hagen. Ride to my country. No one can tell them about our journey home to court better than you."
Hagen answered: "I am no good as a messenger. Let me look after the baggage and stay on the river. I will stay with the ladies and guard their clothes until we bring them into the land of Burgundy. Ask Siegfried to carry the message. He has the strength and the courage to do it well. And if he refuses you the journey, then you must ask him courteously, as a friend, for your sister's sake."
Gunther sent for the warrior, and he came as soon as he was found. The king said: "Since we are drawing near my own lands, I ought to send messengers to my dear sister and my mother, to say that we are coming to the Rhine. That is what I ask of you, Siegfried. Do what I want in this, and I will be in your debt forever," said the good warrior. But bold Siegfried refused him, until Gunther began to plead with him in earnest.
"You must ride," he said, "for my sake and for the sake of Kriemhild, that beautiful girl, so that the glorious princess, like me, will owe you something for it." When Siegfried heard that, the warrior was very ready to go.
"Then tell me whatever you want sent. None of it will go unspoken. I will gladly carry it for the sake of that beautiful girl. Why should I refuse anything to the one I hold in my heart? Whatever you command, consider it done."
"Then tell my mother, Queen Ute, that we are in high spirits on this voyage. Let my brothers know how we have fared. You must let our kinsmen hear this news as well. And keep nothing from my beautiful sister: tell the girl that Brunhild and I send her our service, and tell the household too, and all my men. How well I have finished the thing my heart was always set on! And tell Ortwin, my dear nephew, to have seats built at Worms on the Rhine, and let the rest of my kinsmen know that I mean to hold a great wedding feast with Brunhild. And tell my sister this: once she has heard that I have come home to the country with my guests, she is to take great pains to welcome my dear bride. For that I will be in Kriemhild's service forever."
Lord Siegfried quickly took his leave of Lady Brunhild, as was proper, and of all her household, and rode to the Rhine. There could not have been a better messenger in all the world. He rode to Worms with twenty-four warriors. He came without the king, and when word of that got out, the whole household was in distress; they feared their lord had been left dead over there.
The riders dismounted in high spirits. Young Giselher, the good king, came quickly to meet them, and his brother Gernot with him, and how fast Giselher spoke when he saw that King Gunther was not at Siegfried's side! "Welcome, Siegfried. You must tell me where you have left my brother the king. I think Brunhild's strength has taken him from us, and then her high love has brought us a terrible loss."
"Set that fear aside, for yourself and for his kinsmen. My dear comrade sends you his service. I left him safe and well. He sent me ahead to be his messenger, with news for your country. However you arrange it, see to it quickly that I may see the queen and your sister. I have to tell them the message Gunther and Brunhild have sent. Both of them are doing very well."
Then young Giselher said: "You must go to them, for you have brought my sister great joy. She is sick with worry about my brother. The girl will be glad to see you — I will vouch for that."
Lord Siegfried said: "Whatever I can do to serve her, I will do willingly and loyally. Now who will tell the ladies that I want to go to them?" And handsome Giselher became the messenger for that.
Swift Giselher went to his mother and his sister, and found them together, and said: "Siegfried, the hero from the Netherlands, has come to us. My brother Gunther has sent him here to the Rhine. He brings us news of how things stand with the king. You should give him leave to come to court. He will tell you the true story straight from Isenland." Up to then the noble ladies had known nothing but worry.
They sprang up for their clothes and dressed, and then they asked Siegfried to come to them at court. He did so gladly, because he was glad to see them. Noble Kriemhild spoke to him kindly: "Welcome, Lord Siegfried, knight worthy of all praise. Where is my brother Gunther, the noble, mighty king? I think we have lost him to Brunhild's strength. Oh, poor girl that I am, that I was ever born into this world!"
The bold knight said: "Now give me my messenger's reward, you beautiful ladies, for you are weeping for nothing. I left him safe and well; I promise you that. The two of them have sent me to you both with this news. He and his bride send you their loving service, with a kinsman's affection, noble princess. Now stop your weeping. They will be here soon." She had not heard news so welcome in a long time.
With her snow-white hem she wiped the tears from her lovely eyes, and she began to thank the messenger for the news he had brought her. All her great sadness and her weeping were gone. She asked the messenger to sit, and he was very ready to. Then the lovely girl said: "It would not trouble me at all to give you my gold as a messenger's fee. But you are too rich for that. Instead I will be your friend forever."
"If I alone owned thirty kingdoms," he said, "I would still gladly take a gift from your hand."
"Then it shall be done," said the gracious princess, and she sent her chamberlain to fetch the messenger's reward. Twenty-four bracelets set with fine stones: that was what she gave him for his fee. And such was the hero's spirit that he would not keep them. He gave them away at once to her closest attendants, the women he found in her chambers.
Her mother offered him her service with great kindness. "I have a message to give you," said the bold man, "about what Gunther asks of you when he comes to the Rhine. If you do it, my lady, he will be grateful to you forever. I heard him ask that you receive his noble guests well, and that you grant him this: that you ride out to meet him on the riverbank in front of Worms. The king reminds you of this in all true loyalty."
The lovely girl said: "I am very ready to do it. Whatever I can do to serve him I will not refuse. It shall be done with a kinsman's loyalty." And her color deepened with the joy she felt. No prince's messenger was ever received better. If she had dared to kiss him, the lady would have done it. How lovingly he parted from the women!
Then the Burgundians did as Siegfried advised. Sindold and Hunold and Rumold the warrior had to work hard, setting up the seats on the riverbank outside Worms, and the king's stewards were found hard at work too. Ortwin and Gere would not be left out: they sent to summon their kinsmen from every direction and told them about the wedding feast that was to be held, and the beautiful girls dressed themselves up for it. The great hall and its walls, all of Gunther's palace, were decorated for the guests, and the king's hall was richly fitted out for the many strangers. So this magnificent feast began with great joy.
Then along every road in the land rode the kinsmen of the three kings, who had been sent for to wait on the travelers who were on their way home. Many a rich garment was taken out of the chests. Then came the news that Brunhild's people had been seen riding in, and there was great commotion from the crush of people in the Burgundian land. Oh, what bold warriors were to be found there on both sides!
Beautiful Kriemhild said: "My girls, those of you who want to be with me for the welcome, pick out the very best clothes from the chests, so that the guests will praise us and honor us."
Then the warriors came too, and had the splendid saddles carried out, all of red gold, on which the ladies would ride to the Rhine at Worms. There could be no better riding gear anywhere. Oh, how the bright gold shone on the black horses! Many a precious stone gleamed at them from the bridles. The golden mounting-stools were set on bright silk and brought to the ladies, and they were in a happy mood. In the courtyard the ladies' horses stood ready for the noble young women, as I have told you. You could see the horses wearing narrow breast-straps of the best silk anyone could tell you of.
Eighty-six ladies were seen coming out, wearing the headdresses of married women. They came to Kriemhild, those beautiful women, in their bright dresses, and many a lovely girl came as well, all dressed up, fifty-four of them from the land of Burgundy, and they were the highest-born to be found anywhere. You could see them walking with their fair hair under bright ribbons. What the king had asked for was done with care.
They wore rich silks, the best to be found, and so many fine garments in front of the foreign warriors that their great beauty was shown exactly as it deserved. Anyone who could feel ill will toward any of them would have to be a poor sort of man. There were many clothes of sable and ermine to be seen, and many an arm and hand was finely adorned with bracelets over the silk sleeves they were to wear. No one could tell you about all this finery to the end. Many a hand swung a finely worked belt, rich and long, over a bright gown, over fine skirts of Arabian silk. The noble young women were in very high spirits. Many a beautiful girl had a brooch sewn at her breast with loving care. Any girl whose bright complexion did not shine against her clothes had reason to be sorry for it. No king's family today has so beautiful a household.
When the lovely women had put on the clothes they were to wear, the men who were to escort them arrived at once: a great force of proud warriors, and with their shields they carried many an ashen spear.
On the far side of the Rhine, the king and his guests could be seen riding down to the shore in company after company, and many a girl was led to meet them by the bridle, for everyone who was to receive them stood ready. When the people from Isenland and Siegfried's Nibelung men came across in the ships, they hurried to land, and their hands were anything but idle, there where the king's kinsmen were found waiting on the other bank.
Now hear this too, of Queen Ute, the mighty lady: how she brought her girls down from the castle and rode out with them herself. Many a knight and many a girl made new acquaintances that day. Duke Gere led Kriemhild's horse by the bridle, but only as far as the castle gate; from there bold Siegfried had to serve her the rest of the way. She was a beautiful girl, and the young lady repaid him for it richly later on. Bold Ortwin rode beside Lady Ute, and knight and girl rode along together, two by two. At such a grand reception, we can safely say, so many ladies had never before been seen together.
Many a splendid buhurt was ridden by praiseworthy heroes on the way down to the ships before Kriemhild the beautiful; it would not have done to leave that out. And there many a lovely lady was lifted down from her horse. The king had come across now, and many a worthy guest with him. Ah, what stout lance-shafts splintered before the ladies' eyes! You could hear shield crash against shield as they charged, and ah, how loudly the costly shield-bosses rang in the press!
The lovely women stood at the landing as Gunther and his guests came down from the ships, and he led Brunhild by the hand himself. Bright jewels and bright clothes shone against each other. Lady Kriemhild went forward with perfect courtesy to receive Lady Brunhild and her household. White hands were seen pushing back the garlands from their brows as the two of them kissed; that was done out of courtesy. Then the princess Kriemhild said, well-bred as she was: "You are welcome in these lands, to me and to my mother and to all the loyal kinsmen we have." Bows were made all round. The ladies embraced each other again and again. No one ever heard of so loving a welcome as the two ladies, Lady Ute and her daughter, gave the bride; they kissed her sweet mouth over and over.
When all Brunhild's women had come up onto the sand, many a lovely woman was taken warmly by the hand by handsome warriors, and the beautiful girls were seen standing before Lady Brunhild. It was a long while before all the greeting was done, and truly, many a rose-red mouth was kissed. The two noble princesses still stood side by side, and that was a sight many a fine warrior was glad to see. Those who had heard it claimed before that nothing so beautiful as these two ladies had ever been seen now looked with their own eyes, and had to admit it was no lie. Nor could anyone find a trace of artifice on either of them. Those who knew how to judge women and lovely looks praised Gunther's wife for her beauty; but the wise ones, who had looked more carefully, said that Kriemhild must be ranked above Lady Brunhild.
Girls and women now went to meet one another, and many a beautiful figure was seen there in full array. Silken tents and many a rich pavilion stood all about; the whole field before Worms was full of them. There was crowding and pushing around the king's kinsmen. Then Brunhild and Kriemhild were asked to go, and all the ladies with them, to where there was shade, and the warriors of Burgundy escorted them there.
By now the guests had all got onto their horses, and many a splendid joust was ridden, lance through shield. The field began to throw up dust as if the whole land had burst into flame, and there heroes made their names. Many a girl watched what the warriors were doing. It seems to me that Lord Siegfried and his men rode many a charge back and forth before the tents; he led a thousand handsome Nibelungs. Then Hagen of Tronje came, as the host had told him to, and the hero broke up the buhurt gently, so that the beautiful girls would not be left covered in dust; and the guests obeyed him with good grace.
Then Lord Gernot said: "Let the horses stand until it starts to cool. Then we will set about serving the beautiful women before the great hall, and when the king wants to ride, see that you are all ready."
When the buhurt had died away over the whole field, the knights went to the ladies under the many pavilions to pass the time, with high hopes of joy, and there they whiled away the hours until they were ready to ride on. Toward evening, as the sun went down and it began to grow cool, they delayed no longer: many a man and woman set off for the castle, and many a beautiful lady was caressed with the eyes. Plenty of clothes were ridden to tatters by good heroes, by those high-spirited men, after the custom of the land, until the king dismounted in front of the great hall. Then the ladies were helped down, as high-hearted heroes do. Now the two mighty queens parted. Lady Ute and her daughter went with their household into a very spacious room, and on every side you could hear the great din of rejoicing.
The seats were made ready, for the king wanted to go to table with his guests. Beside him stood beautiful Brunhild, and she wore a crown in the king's land: truly she was powerful enough for that. Many a fine seat and good table was set with food, so we are told, with everything they could need and hardly anything lacking, and many a lordly guest was seen beside the king. The host's chamberlains carried the water around in basins of red gold. If anyone ever told you that men were served better at any prince's feast, there would be little point in it; I would not believe it.
Before the lord of the Rhine took the water to wash his hands, Lord Siegfried did what was his right: he reminded him, on his loyalty, of what he had promised him before he ever saw Brunhild at home in Isenland. He said: "You must remember what your hand swore to me: that when Lady Brunhild came to this land, you would give me your sister. What has become of those oaths? I went through great hardship on your voyage."
The king said to his guest: "You are right to remind me. My hand shall not be forsworn, truly. I will arrange it as best I possibly can." Then Kriemhild was sent for, to come to court before the king. She came with her beautiful girls to the front of the hall, and young Giselher sprang down the stairs. "Now tell these girls to turn back. No one but my sister alone is to go before the king."
So Kriemhild was brought to where the king was. Noble knights from many princes' lands stood in the wide hall, and they were told to stand still. By now Lady Brunhild had walked as far as the table. Then King Gunther said: "Sister, dear heart, by your own goodness, release me from my oath. I swore you to a warrior, and if he becomes your husband, you will have done my will most loyally."
The noble girl said: "Dearest brother, you need not plead with me. Truly, I will always be as you wish; whatever you command me, that shall be done. I will gladly promise myself to the man you give me, my lord, for a husband."
Siegfried's color rose at that loving glance, and the warrior offered Lady Kriemhild his service. They were told to step together into a ring, and she was asked whether she would take this handsome man. In girlish modesty she was shy about it, a little; but such was Siegfried's luck, and his happiness, that she had no wish to refuse him there and then, and the noble king of the Netherlands promised to take her for his wife. When he had pledged himself to her and the girl to him, Siegfried's arms were quick to give the lovely child a tender embrace, and then beautiful Kriemhild was kissed before the heroes.
When that had happened the company divided, and Siegfried was seen sitting with Kriemhild on the bench across from the king, with many a man to serve him, and the Nibelungs were seen going over to Siegfried's side. The king had taken his seat with Brunhild the bride when she saw Kriemhild sitting beside Siegfried, and nothing had ever grieved her so much. She began to weep, and hot tears ran down her bright cheeks.
The lord of the land said: "My dearest lady, why do you let the light of those bright eyes grow dim? You have every reason to be happy: my land and my castles are yours, and many a handsome man."
"I have good reason to weep," said the beautiful girl. "My heart aches for your sister. I see her sitting there beside your bondsman, and I will weep forever if she is to be ruined like that."
King Gunther said: "You would do well to say nothing now. I will tell you the whole story another time, why I gave my sister to Siegfried. Truly, she can live happily with that warrior all her life."
She said: "I will always grieve for her beauty and her breeding. If I knew where to go, I would gladly run away, and I will never lie close by your side until you tell me why Kriemhild is Siegfried's wife."
The noble king said: "Then I will tell you. He has castles, just as I do, and wide lands. Be sure of this: he is a mighty king. That is why I gave him the beautiful, praiseworthy girl to love." But whatever the king told her, she stayed downcast.
Now many a good knight hurried from the tables to the horses, and their buhurt grew so hard that the whole castle rang with it. But the host was heartily tired of his guests. He thought he would lie more softly beside the beautiful lady. He had not given up the hope in his heart that much joy was to come to him through her, and he began to look at Lady Brunhild lovingly. The guests were asked to leave off their knightly games, for the king wanted to go to bed with his wife. At the stairs of the hall Kriemhild and Brunhild met; there was no hatred between the two of them yet. Then their households came, wasting no time, and their noble chamberlains brought them lights. The warriors, the two kings' men, parted into two companies, and many a fighter was seen going off with Siegfried.
The two lords came to where they were to lie, and each of them thought of conquering his lovely lady with love. That put them both in a gentle mood. Siegfried's pleasure that night was very great indeed. When Lord Siegfried lay beside Kriemhild and caressed the young lady so tenderly with his noble love, she became as dear to him as his own life; he would not have taken a thousand other women in exchange for her alone. I will tell you no more of how he loved his lady. Hear instead how Gunther lay beside Lady Brunhild. That handsome warrior had often lain more comfortably beside other women.
The people had withdrawn, the ladies and the men, and the chamber was quickly shut. He thought he was about to caress her lovely body; but truly, it was a long way off yet before she became his wife. She went to the bed in a shift of white linen, and the noble knight thought: "Now I have here everything I ever wanted in all my days." Her beauty had every right to please him. The noble king's hand hid the lights away, and then the bold warrior went to where the lady lay. He lay down close to her, and his joy was great as the hero wrapped his arms around the lovely woman. He could have begun many a loving caress, if the noble lady had let him. But she grew so angry that it troubled him: he had expected a lover and found an enemy's hatred instead.
She said: "Noble knight, you will let it be. What you are hoping for cannot happen. I mean to stay a virgin — you had better understand that — until I have found out the truth." Then Gunther turned on her in anger. He wrestled for her love and tore her clothes, and the lordly girl reached for a belt, a strong woven band she wore around her waist, and with it she did the king harm enough. She tied his feet and his hands together, carried him to a nail, and hung him on the wall. Since he had disturbed her sleep, she denied him her love. Truly, her strength very nearly cost him his life.
Then the one who had thought himself the master began to beg. "Untie my bonds, most noble queen. I will never try to overpower you again, beautiful lady, and I shall hardly ever lie so close to you again."
She did not care how he felt, for she lay very comfortably. He had to hang there all night long until the day, until the bright morning shone through the windows. If he had ever had any strength, there was little of it left in him now.
"Now tell me, Lord Gunther," said the beautiful girl, "would it trouble you at all if your chamberlains found you tied up by a woman's hand?"
The noble knight said: "That would turn out badly for you, and I would have little honor from it either," said the quick-witted man. "By your own goodness, let me come to you now. Since my love is so hateful to you, I will never lay a finger on your clothes."
Then she untied him quickly and let him up. He went back to the bed, to the lady, and lay down so far away that after that he hardly ever touched her fine shift; and she wanted no more of it either.
Then their household came in and brought them new clothes, and plenty of them were ready for the morning. However cheerful everyone else was, the lord of the land was sad enough, even though he wore a crown that day. Following the custom they kept, and that was right to keep, Gunther and Brunhild delayed no longer but went to the cathedral, where Mass was sung. Lord Siegfried came there too, and a great crowd pressed in. Everything they needed stood ready for them, as suited their royal honor, their crowns and their robes. Then they were consecrated, and when that was done all four of them were seen standing joyfully under their crowns.
Many young men took the sword there, six hundred or more, in honor of the kings, I want you to know that. Great rejoicing rose in the land of Burgundy, and you could hear the shafts ringing in the hands of the new-made knights. The beautiful girls sat at the windows and watched many a bright shield flashing before them. But the king had drawn apart from his men; whatever anyone else was doing, the king was seen walking about in sorrow.
His mood and Siegfried's were not alike, and the noble knight had a good idea what was wrong with him. He went to the king and asked: "How did you get on last night? You must tell me."
The host said to his guest: "I have won myself shame and harm. I have brought the very devil home into my house. When I thought I was going to love her, she tied me up tight, carried me to a nail, and hung me high on the wall. There I hung in misery all night until day, before she untied me. And how comfortably she lay there! I complain of this to you as a friend, trusting in your good will."
Strong Siegfried said: "Truly, I am sorry to hear it. I will prove that to you, if you will let me without resenting it: I will see to it that tonight she lies so close beside you that she never keeps her love from you again." After all his hardship Gunther liked that talk well. Lord Siegfried said: "You can take heart. I think we fared very differently last night. Your sister Kriemhild is dearer to me than my life. Lady Brunhild must become your wife tonight.
"I will come to your chamber tonight," he said, "so secretly, in my cloak of invisibility, that no one will see through my trick. Send the chamberlains out to their quarters, and I will put out the lights in the pages' hands; by that you will know I am inside, and that I am glad to serve you. Then I will tame your wife for you, so that you can love her tonight, or I will lose my life doing it."
"So long as you do not make love to my dear lady yourself," the king said, "I am content. Otherwise do whatever you like with her, even if you took her life. I could put up with that; she is a terrible woman."
"I swear it on my loyalty," said Siegfried, "that I will not make love to her. Your beautiful sister is dearer to me than any woman I ever saw." And King Gunther fully believed what Siegfried said.
The pastimes had brought both joy and distress. Now all the buhurts and the uproar were called off, because the ladies were to go up to the hall, and the chamberlains told the people to clear the way. The courtyard was emptied of horses and people. A bishop led each of the ladies as they went to table before the kings, and many a handsome man followed them to the seats. The king sat there in good cheer and high hopes; he was thinking of what Siegfried had promised him. That one day seemed to him as long as thirty, for all his thoughts were fixed on his lady's love. He could hardly wait for the tables to be cleared. Then beautiful Brunhild was allowed to go to her rest, and Lady Kriemhild too, each to her own chamber. Ah, what quick warriors were seen going before the queens!
Lord Siegfried sat most lovingly beside his wife, in joy and without a care. She was stroking his hands with her white hand when he vanished before her eyes; she could not tell when. When she was playing with him like that and suddenly could not see him any more, the queen said to his household: "I wonder very much where the king has gone. Who has taken his hands out of mine?"
She let the matter drop. He had gone to where he found the chamberlains standing with the lights, and he began to put them out in the pages' hands; and by that Gunther knew it was Siegfried. He knew well what he wanted, and he told the girls and the ladies to leave. When that was done the mighty king himself barred the door and quickly shot two strong bolts across it. He hid the lights quickly under the bedclothes. Then a game began that there was no way around, between strong Siegfried and the beautiful girl, and to King Gunther it was joy and sorrow both.
Siegfried lay down close to the young lady. She said: "Now stop that, Gunther, if I mean anything to you, or you will suffer the same hardship as before." Later the lady made bold Siegfried pay for that.
He kept his voice hidden and said nothing at all. Gunther could hear well enough, though he could not see them, that nothing intimate was happening between those two; they had very little comfort on that bed. Siegfried behaved as if he were Gunther the mighty king and took the praiseworthy girl in his arms. She threw him out of the bed onto a bench nearby, so that his head cracked loudly against a stool. The bold man sprang up again with all his strength. He meant to do better this time; but when he set about forcing her, it went hard with him. I think no woman will ever again put up such a defense.
When he would not give up, the girl sprang up. "You are not to tear my white shift. You are a rough brute, and you will be sorry for it; I will see to that," said the handsome girl. She locked her arms around the splendid warrior and meant to tie him up as she had the king, so that she could have her peace in the bed. The lady took a hard revenge for the tearing of her clothes. What good were his great strength and his great power now? She showed the warrior what mastery her body had: she carried him by main force — there was no helping it — and jammed him hard between the wall and a chest.
"Oh no," the warrior thought. "If I lose my life now at a girl's hands, then every wife from this day on will be free to hold her head high against her husband, who would never have dared it otherwise."
The king heard it all, and feared for the man. Siegfried was furious, and shame came over him. With tremendous strength he set himself against her, and now, in desperation, he tried it again with Lady Brunhild. It seemed a long time to the king before he subdued her. She crushed his hands until the blood spurted out from under the nails, so great was her strength, and the hero did not like that. But in the end he forced the lordly girl to give up the unruly will she had asserted before. The king heard all of it, though he said nothing. Siegfried pressed her down onto the bed so that she screamed out loud; his strength hurt her terribly. She reached for her side, where she found the belt, and would have tied him with it, but his hand stopped her so hard that her limbs cracked, and her whole body with them. That decided the fight; and so she became Gunther's wife.
She said: "Noble king, let me live. Whatever I have done to you will be made good. I will never again resist your noble love. I have found out well enough that you know how to be a woman's master."
Siegfried stood back and left the girl lying there, as if he meant to take off all his clothes. He drew a golden ring from her hand, and the noble queen never noticed. He took her belt as well, a good strong band. I do not know whether he did that out of pride. He gave the two of them to his wife; later it cost him dearly. Then Gunther and the beautiful girl lay down together. He loved her as was his right, and she had to give up her anger and her shame. From his embrace she grew a little pale; and ah, how that great strength of hers drained away with her love! Now she was no stronger than any other woman. He caressed her lovely body tenderly, and if she had tried her strength again, what good would it have done her? Gunther had done all that to her with his love. How lovingly she lay beside him then, in tender affection, until the bright day.
Lord Siegfried, meanwhile, had gone out again, to where a lovely woman gave him a warm welcome. He headed off the question she had meant to ask, and for a long time he kept from her what he had brought, until she went crowned in his own land. But whatever he owed to give her, how little of it he ever withheld!
In the morning the host was in far better spirits than he had been the day before, and that made for good cheer all over his land, among many a noble man he had invited to his house; they were served to their hearts' content. The wedding feast lasted until the fourteenth day, and in all that time the noise of every kind of joy that anyone could devise never stopped, and the king's expense was reckoned very high. The noble host's kinsmen, as the king ordered, gave in his honor clothes and red gold, horses and silver too, to many a man from foreign lands; and those who asked for gifts went away happy. Lord Siegfried of the Netherlands and his thousand men gave away every garment they had brought to the Rhine, and the horses and saddles too; they knew how to live like lords. Before all the rich gifts had been handed out, those who wanted to go home thought it was taking too long. Never were guests better looked after. So the wedding feast ended, as Gunther the warrior wished.
When the guests had all ridden away, Siegmund's son said to his household: "We should get ready too, and go home to my lands." His wife was glad when she understood that he meant it. She said to her husband: "When are we to leave? I would rather not rush off in such a hurry. First my brothers must divide the lands with me." Siegfried did not like it when he heard that from Kriemhild.
The princes came to him, and all three of them said: "Know this, Lord Siegfried: our loyal service is yours, ready at your call until the day we die." He bowed to the warriors when it was offered so kindly. "We will share with you as well," said young Giselher, "the lands and castles that belong to us, and whatever part of the wide kingdom is subject to us. You and Kriemhild shall have a good share of it."
When Siegmund's son heard and saw what the lords intended, he said to the princes: "God grant that your inheritance brings you blessing forever, and the people in it too. My dear wife can easily do without the share you wanted to give her. Where she is going to wear a crown, if I live to see it, she will be richer than anyone alive. Whatever else you command, I am at your service."
Then Lady Kriemhild said: "You may do without the inheritance, but with the Burgundian warriors it is not settled so easily. A king would gladly lead men like these to his land. Truly, my dear brothers' hands must share them with me."
Lord Gernot said: "Then take whoever you want. You will find plenty here who would gladly ride with you. Of our three thousand warriors we give you a thousand men to be your own household." Kriemhild sent for Hagen of Tronje and for Ortwin, to ask whether they and their kinsmen would be hers. At that Hagen flew into a rage. He said: "Gunther cannot give us away to anyone on earth. Let the rest of your household follow you. You know the custom of the men of Tronje well enough: we must stay here at court with the kings. We will go on serving the lords we have followed until now."
They let the matter drop and got ready to leave. Lady Kriemhild took a noble retinue for herself: thirty-two maidens and five hundred men. Count Eckewart went with Siegfried. They all took their leave, knights and squires, maidens and ladies, as was only right. They parted with kisses, and left King Gunther's land in high spirits. Their kinsmen escorted them a long way on the road, and all through the kings' land, wherever they chose to stop, lodging was ordered for them for the night.
Then messengers were sent racing ahead to Siegmund, so that he and Sieglinde should know that his son was coming, and with him Ute's child, beautiful Kriemhild, from Worms across the Rhine. No news could have pleased them more. "How lucky I am," said Siegmund, "to have lived to see beautiful Kriemhild walk crowned here. All my inheritance is the richer for it. My son, noble Siegfried, shall be king here himself."
Then noble Sieglinde gave out red samite in plenty, and silver, and heavy gold: that was the messengers' reward. She rejoiced at the news, and her household dressed with care, as was fitting for them. They were told who was coming into the land with him, and at once seats were ordered to be set up where he would walk crowned before his kinsmen. Then King Siegmund's men rode out to meet him.
If anyone was ever better received than those famous heroes in Siegmund's land, I do not know of it. Beautiful Sieglinde rode out to meet Kriemhild with many lovely ladies, and handsome knights followed her, a full day's journey, before the guests came into sight. The people of the country and the strangers both had a hard, uncomfortable road until they reached a broad castle called Xanten, where the two of them would later wear the crown.
With laughing faces Sieglinde and Siegmund kissed Kriemhild again and again for love, and Siegfried too; their sorrow was lifted from them. All their company was warmly welcomed. The guests were brought before Siegmund's hall, and the beautiful young ladies were lifted down from their palfreys. There were men by the hundred, and they set about serving the lovely ladies with a will.
However great their wedding feast on the Rhine was known to have been, here the heroes were given far better clothes than they had ever worn in all their days. Great wonders could be told of their wealth. When they sat there in their high honor with everything they could want, what gold-colored gowns their retinue wore, with pearls and precious stones worked into them! So carefully did Sieglinde, the noble queen, look after them.
Then Lord Siegmund said before his kinsmen: "I make it known to all of Siegfried's family: he shall wear my crown before these warriors." The people of the Netherlands were glad to hear it. He handed over to him his courts of justice, his crown, and his land, and from then on Siegfried was master of them all. Whenever he sat in judgment and had to give a ruling, it was carried out in such a way that men went in great fear of beautiful Kriemhild's husband.
In this high honor he lived, it is the plain truth, and ruled under the crown until the tenth year, when his beautiful wife bore a son. That was just what the king's kinsmen had wished for. They hurried to have him baptized and gave him a name: Gunther, after his uncle, and he had no need to be ashamed of that. If he took after his kinsmen, things would go well for him. They raised him with care, and with good reason.
In those same days Lady Sieglinde died. Then the noble daughter of Ute held all the power, as was right for so great a lady over the lands. Many people grieved that death had taken Sieglinde from them.
Now on the Rhine as well, so we hear tell, beautiful Brunhild had borne mighty Gunther a son, in Burgundy. For the hero's sake they named him Siegfried. How carefully they had him watched over! Noble Gunther gave him tutors who knew how to raise him into a fine man. Oh, how much misfortune later robbed him of his kinsmen!
Stories were told all the time of how gloriously the handsome warriors lived in Siegmund's land, and Gunther lived the same way with his distinguished kinsmen. The Nibelung land served Siegfried here, and Nibelung's warriors, and the wealth of both; none of his kinsmen was ever richer than he. The bold man held his head all the higher for it. The greatest treasure a hero ever won, apart from those who had held it before him, the bold man now had: he had won it with his own hand before a mountain, and for its sake he had struck many a fine knight dead. He had honor to his heart's content, and even if he had not, anyone would still have to admit that the noble warrior was one of the best men who ever sat a horse. Men feared his strength, and they were right to.
Now Gunther's wife was thinking, all the time: "How grandly Lady Kriemhild carries herself! And yet her husband Siegfried is our bondsman, and for a long while now he has done us very little service." She carried this in her heart and kept it well hidden. That they stayed such strangers to her, that so little service ever came to her from Siegfried's land, grieved her deeply, and she would have given a great deal to know the reason.
So she tried the king, to see whether it might be arranged for her to see Kriemhild again. She said in private what she had in mind, and the lord did not think much of the idea. "How could we bring them here to this land?" said the mighty king. "It would be impossible. They live too far from us, and I would not dare to ask it of them." Lady Brunhild answered him with a cunning turn: "However high and mighty a king's vassal may be, whatever his lord commands him, he still must not leave it undone." Gunther smiled when she said that. However often he saw Siegfried, he never counted it as a vassal's service.
"Dearest lord," she said, "for my sake, help me bring Siegfried and your sister to this land, so that we can see them here. Truly, nothing could ever make me happier. Your sister's good breeding and her gracious spirit: whenever I think of them, how it warms me, how we sat together when I first became your wife. She may love bold Siegfried with honor."
She begged him so long that at last the king said: "I tell you, there are no guests I would be gladder to see. You need not press me hard. I will send my messengers for the two of them, so that they come to us on the Rhine."
Then the queen said: "Then you must tell me when you mean to send for them, and in how many days our dear kinsmen are to come into the land. And the men you mean to send, let me know who they are."
"I will," said the prince. "I will let thirty of my men ride there." He had them come before him, and by them he sent his message to Siegfried's land. To their delight, Brunhild gave them very splendid clothes.
Then King Gunther said: "You warriors shall say from me, and hold back nothing that I send, to strong Siegfried and to my sister, that no one in the world could be fonder of them than I am. And ask them both to come to us on the Rhine; for that, I and my lady will be forever at their service. Before this midsummer he and his men shall see many here who wish him great honor. To King Siegmund tell my service, that I and my people will always be his friends. And tell my sister, too, that she must not fail to ride to her kinsmen. Never did a festival suit her better."
Brunhild and Ute and every lady to be found at court all sent their service to Siegfried's land, to the lovely women there and to many a bold man. With the counsel of the king's kinsmen the messengers set out. They traveled fitted out for the road; their horses and their clothing had all been brought to them, and then they left the land. They were eager to reach the place they were going, and the king had the messengers carefully guarded with an escort. In three weeks they came riding into the land, to Nibelung's castle in the border country of Norway, where they had been sent, and there they found the warriors. The messengers' horses were very weary from the long roads.
Siegfried and Kriemhild were both told that knights had arrived wearing clothes of the kind that was the fashion in Burgundy. She sprang from a couch where she lay resting and asked a maid to go to a window. The girl saw bold Gere standing in the courtyard, him and the companions who had been sent there with him. Against her heartache at being so far from home, what joyful news she found!
She said to the king: "Now look, there they stand, the men walking in the courtyard with strong Gere, the ones my brother Gunther has sent us down the Rhine." Then strong Siegfried said: "They shall be welcome to us."
The whole household ran to wherever the messengers could be seen, and each of them in turn spoke to the envoys very kindly, as well as he knew how. Lord Siegmund was very glad of their coming. Then Gere and his men were given lodgings, and the horses were ordered looked after. The messengers went to where Lord Siegfried sat beside Kriemhild; they had been given leave to come to court, so that is what they did. The host and his wife stood up at once. Gere of Burgundy was warmly received, with his companions, Gunther's men, and mighty Gere was asked to go and sit down.
"Allow us our message before we go and sit. Let us travel-weary guests stand for now. We are to tell you news of what Gunther and Brunhild have sent you; their affairs stand very high. And also what Lady Ute, your mother, sends. Young Giselher and Lord Gernot too and your best kinsmen have sent us here. They send you their service from Gunther's land."
"Now God reward them," said Siegfried. "I trust them fully, for loyalty and good will, as one should trust kinsmen; and so does their sister. You must tell us more: are our dear kinsmen at home in good spirits? Since we parted from them, has anyone done anything to my wife's kinsmen? You must let me know. I will always help them bear it in loyalty, until their enemies have reason to curse my service."
Then Margrave Gere, a very good warrior, said: "They are in every virtue so high of heart. They invite you to the Rhine for a festival. They would be very glad to see you, you may be sure of that. And they ask my lady to come there with you, once the winter has come to an end. Before this midsummer, they would like to see you." Then strong Siegfried said: "That could hardly happen."
Then Gere of Burgundy spoke again: "Your mother Ute, Gernot and Giselher have urged you: you must not refuse them. That you live so far from them, I hear lamented every day. Brunhild my lady and all her maidens rejoice at the news, and if it could be that they saw you again, it would lift their hearts high." That news sounded good to beautiful Kriemhild.
Gere was her kinsman. The host told him to sit, and he ordered drink poured for the guests; there was no more delay about that. Now Siegmund too had come to where he saw the messengers, and the lord spoke to the Burgundians in a friendly way: "Welcome, you warriors, you men of Gunther. Since my son Siegfried took Kriemhild as his wife, you ought to be seen more often here in this land, if you would show us any kinship."
They said they would gladly come whenever he wished. Their great weariness was lifted from them with good cheer. The messengers were asked to sit, food was brought to them, and Siegfried had his guests given plenty of it. They had to stay there a full nine days, and in the end the swift knights complained that they could not ride home to their own land. Meanwhile King Siegfried had sent for his kinsmen.
He asked them what they advised: should they go to the Rhine? "My kinsman Gunther has sent for me, he and his kinsmen, for a festival. I would gladly go to him, except that his land lies too far away. And they ask Kriemhild to travel with me. Now advise me, dear kinsmen: how am I to get there? If I had to go to war for them through thirty lands, Siegfried's hand would gladly serve them."
Then his warriors said: "If you have a mind to make the journey to the festival, we will advise you what to do. You should ride to the Rhine with a thousand warriors; then you can stand with honor there among the Burgundians."
Then Lord Siegmund of the Netherlands said: "If you want to go to the festival, why do you not tell me so? If you do not scorn it, I will ride there with you, and I will bring a hundred warriors to make your company larger."
"If you will ride with us, dearest father," said bold Siegfried, "I shall be very glad of it. Within twelve days I will leave my lands." All who asked for them were given horses and clothes. Since the noble king had a mind for the journey, the good swift messengers were told to ride home again. To his wife's kinsmen on the Rhine he sent word that he would gladly be at their festival.
Siegfried and Kriemhild, as we hear it told, gave the messengers so much that their horses could not carry it home. He was a rich man. Their strong pack-horses were driven off in good cheer. Siegfried and Siegmund clothed their people, and Count Eckewart at once ordered ladies' clothes sought out, the best to be found, or that could be bought anywhere in all Siegfried's land. The saddles and the shields began to be made ready. The knights and ladies who were to go with them were given whatever they wanted, so that they lacked nothing. And so he brought his kinsmen many a magnificent guest.
The messengers hurried home along the roads. Then Gere the warrior came to Burgundy and was warmly received. They got down from their warhorses and their mounts in front of Giselher's hall. Young and old came, as people do, asking for news. The good knight said: "When I tell it to the king, you will hear it then and there." And he went with his companions to where he found Gunther.
For sheer joy the king sprang up from his seat, and beautiful Brunhild thanked them for coming back so quickly. Gunther said to the messenger: "How is Siegfried, who has given me so much good?"
Bold Gere said: "He turned red with joy, he and your sister. No man ever sent his kinsmen such loyal greetings as Lord Siegfried and his father have sent you."
Then the noble king's wife said to the margrave: "Now tell me, is Kriemhild coming to us? Has that beautiful woman kept any of the good manners she used to show so well?"
"She is coming to you, be sure of it," said Gere the warrior.
Ute quickly asked the messengers to come before her, and anyone could tell from her questions how glad she was to hear it: was Kriemhild still well? He told her how he had found her, and that she would be coming very soon. Nor were the gifts kept hidden at court, the gold and the clothes Lord Siegfried had given them. These were brought out for the men of the three kings to see, and he was thanked for his great generosity.
"He can easily afford to give," said Hagen then. "He could not squander it if he lived forever. The Nibelung treasure is locked in his hand. Ah, if only it ever came into the land of the Burgundians!"
The whole household rejoiced that the guests were coming. Early and late the men of the three kings were hard at work, and many seats were set up for the company. Bold Hunold and Sindold the warrior had plenty to do; all that while they had to serve as stewards and cupbearers and set up many a bench. Lord Ortwin helped them with it, and Gunther thanked them for it. Rumold the master of the kitchen, how well he ruled his underlings in the days that followed! Broad kettles, pots and pans by the dozen; what a lot of them were found there! And they made the food ready for the people who were coming into the land.
Let us leave all their bustle now and tell how Lady Kriemhild and her maidens traveled from the Nibelung land toward the Rhine. Never did horses carry so much rich clothing. A great many traveling chests were loaded onto the wagons. Then Siegfried the warrior rode off with his kinsmen, and the queen with him, toward the place where they hoped for joy. Later it turned to great sorrow for them all.
They left Siegfried's little boy, Kriemhild's son, at home. It had to be so. Great grief would come to him from their journey to court: the child never saw his father or his mother again. Lord Siegmund rode away with them too. Had he known for certain how the festival would turn out, he would never have seen any of it. No worse grief could ever have come to him through the people he loved.
Messengers were sent ahead to carry the news. Then many of Ute's kinsmen and Gunther's vassals rode out to meet them in a splendid company, and the host began to busy himself greatly for his guests. He went to Brunhild where he found her sitting. "How did my sister receive you when you came into my land? You must receive Siegfried's wife just the same way."
"I will do that gladly, and with good reason," she said. "I am fond of her."
Then the mighty king said: "They arrive early tomorrow morning. If you mean to receive them, set to work quickly, so that we are not left waiting for them here in the castle. In all my life, guests so dear to me have never come."
At once she told her maids and her ladies to look out good clothes, the best to be found, for her household to wear in front of the guests. They did it gladly, I can easily tell you that. Gunther's vassals hurried to serve them too, and the host gathered all his warriors around him. Then the queen rode out in great state, and the dear guests were given a mighty welcome.
With what joy they received those guests! It seemed to them that Lady Kriemhild had never received Lady Brunhild in Burgundy half so well. Those who had never seen her before found their spirits lifted by the sight. Now Siegfried had arrived too, with his vassals. The heroes were seen wheeling back and forth across the whole field in huge companies; no one could escape the crush and the dust.
When the ruler of the land saw Siegfried and Siegmund, how warmly he spoke to them! "Be heartily welcome to me and to all my kinsmen. We shall be in high spirits because of this journey of yours to our court."
"God reward you," said Siegmund, that honor-seeking man. "Ever since my son Siegfried won you as a kinsman, my heart has told me that I ought to come and see you."
King Gunther said: "It is a joy to me that you did."
Siegfried was received, as was only right, with the greatest honor; no one there bore him any ill will. Giselher and Gernot helped in this with great courtesy. I believe guests were never offered such kindness before.
Now the two kings' wives drew near each other. Many a saddle was emptied as beautiful women were lifted down onto the grass by heroes' hands; those who liked to serve the ladies had plenty to do. The lovely women went up to each other, and many a knight rejoiced that the two of them greeted each other so beautifully. Warriors in crowds were seen standing beside their young ladies. The splendid company took one another by the hand. There was a great deal of courteous bowing, and loving kisses from beautiful women: a happy sight for Gunther's and Siegfried's men.
They waited no longer but rode into the town. The host asked that his guests be shown clearly how glad everyone in Burgundy was to see them, and many a splendid jousting charge was run before the young ladies. Hagen of Tronje and Ortwin made it very clear that they were in command there: whatever they ordered, no one dared leave undone, and the dear guests were given great service by both of them. At the castle gate you could hear shields ringing from thrusts and blows; the host and his guests held back out there a long time before they went in. Truly, the hours went by for them in great sport.
Then they rode before the great hall with the ladies. Many a fine silk cloth, good and well cut, was seen hanging over the beautiful women's saddles on every side. Then Gunther's men came up, and the guests were told to be led quickly to their lodgings. Now and then Brunhild was seen glancing at Lady Kriemhild, who was beautiful enough: her color shone gloriously against the gold.
All through the town of Worms the household could be heard shouting. Gunther told Dankwart, his marshal, to take charge of them, and he began to lodge the company very comfortably. They were fed outside and inside; truly, foreign guests were never better cared for. Whatever they wanted was ready for them: the king was so rich that no one was refused anything. They were served in friendship and without a trace of ill will. Then the host sat down at table with his guests. Siegfried was asked to sit where he had sat before, and many a handsome man went with him to his seat. A good twelve hundred warriors sat at table in his circle. Brunhild the queen thought that no bondsman could be richer than this. Yet she was still so well disposed to him that she gladly let him live.
One evening, as the king sat at table, many rich clothes were soaked with wine where the cupbearers had to walk between the tables; full service was given with great care. As has long been the custom at festivals, the ladies and the young girls were given fine lodgings. Wherever they had come from, the host wished them well, and all of them were given plenty, with kindness and honor.
When the night ended and the day appeared, many a precious stone set in good clothing flashed out of the traveling chests as the ladies' hands touched them, and many a splendid garment was picked out. Before it was fully light, many knights and squires came out before the hall, and the noise rose again, before the early Mass that was sung for the king. The young heroes rode so well that the king thanked them for it. Many a trumpet blared with tremendous force, and from the drums and flutes the noise grew so great that the whole wide town of Worms rang with it. The high-spirited heroes were on horseback everywhere.
Then a very high game began in that land, with many a good warrior; you could see plenty of them there, their young hearts full of high spirits, and many a fine good knight under his shield. In the windows sat the glorious ladies and many beautiful girls, all richly adorned; they watched the sport of many a bold man. The host himself began to ride with his kinsmen.
So they passed the time, and it did not seem long. Then the ringing of many bells was heard from the cathedral. The horses came, and the ladies rode off, and many a bold man followed the noble queens. They dismounted onto the grass in front of the cathedral. Brunhild was still well disposed to her guests. They went into the wide cathedral wearing their crowns. Later that affection was broken, and great hatred brought it about.
When they had heard Mass, they rode back again with many honors, and afterward they were seen going happily to table. Their joy never flagged at that festival until the eleventh day.
One day, before vespers, a great commotion broke out in the courtyard, where many warriors were riding at knightly games to pass the time, and crowds of women and men ran out to watch. The two mighty queens were sitting together, and their thoughts were on two warriors who were well worth praising. Then beautiful Kriemhild said: "I have a husband who ought by rights to hold all these kingdoms in his hands."
Lady Brunhild said: "How could that be? If no one were alive but him and you, then the kingdoms might well be subject to him. But as long as Gunther lives, it can never happen."
Kriemhild answered: "Just look at him standing there. Look how royally he walks ahead of the warriors, like the bright moon in front of the stars. I have every reason to be glad."
Lady Brunhild said: "However handsome your husband is, however noble and however fine, you must still put Gunther ahead of him, the warrior, your noble brother. Know this for certain: he must rank above all kings."
Then Lady Kriemhild said: "My husband is so worthy that I have not praised him without cause. His honor is great in a great many things. Believe me, Brunhild, he is easily Gunther's equal."
"You must not take it badly of me, Kriemhild, for I have not said this without cause. I heard them both declare it, when I first saw them, when the king got the better of me and won my love in such knightly fashion: there Siegfried himself said that he was the king's vassal. And so I have counted him my bondsman ever since I heard him say it."
Beautiful Kriemhild said: "Then I would have been badly served. How could my noble brothers have arranged things so that I should be a bondsman's wife? So I ask you, Brunhild, as a friend: for my sake, be kind and let this talk drop."
"I cannot let it drop," said the king's wife. "Why should I give up so many knights who, along with that warrior, owe us their service?"
Beautiful Kriemhild grew very angry. "You will have to give him up, and any idea that he will ever do you a day's service. He is worthier than my brother Gunther, noble man that he is. You must spare me any more of what I have just heard from you. And it always surprises me, since he is your bondsman and you have such power over the two of us, that he has been allowed to leave his tribute unpaid for so long. By rights I should be spared your arrogance."
"You set yourself too high," said the king's wife. "Now I will gladly see whether people hold you in as much honor as they hold me."
The two ladies were both in a fury. Lady Kriemhild said: "Then this is what must happen. Since you have declared my husband your bondsman, the men of both kings shall see today whether I dare walk into the cathedral ahead of the king's wife. You will see today that I am noble and freeborn, and that my husband is worthier than yours. I will not be insulted with that. And you shall see tonight how your bondswoman walks to court ahead of the warriors of Burgundy. I mean to be held worthier myself than anyone ever knew a queen to be who ever wore a crown." So a great deal of hatred rose up between the two ladies.
Then Brunhild said: "If you will not be a bondswoman, then you and your ladies must keep apart from my household when we go to the cathedral." And Kriemhild answered: "Truly, that will be done."
"Dress yourselves, my maids," said Siegfried's wife. "I must come out of this without shame. Let it be seen whether you have rich clothes. Brunhild may yet be glad to take back what she has said." They did not need much urging; they went looking for rich clothes, and many a lady and maiden was handsomely turned out. Then the noble king's wife went out with her household, and beautiful Kriemhild's women were handsomely turned out too. She had brought forty-three maidens with her to the Rhine, and they wore bright silks woven in Arabia. So the lovely maidens came to the cathedral, and all Siegfried's men were waiting for them in front of the house.
The people wondered what had happened, that the queens were seen so separated, no longer walking together as they used to. Later many a warrior suffered bitterly for it. Here, in front of the cathedral, stood Gunther's wife, and many a knight was passing the time pleasantly with the lovely ladies he was watching. Then Lady Kriemhild came with a large and splendid company. Whatever clothes the children of noble knights had ever worn, beside her household they were so much wind. She was so rich in goods that the wives of thirty kings together could not have produced what Kriemhild did. Wish as you might, you could not say that such rich clothes had ever been seen before as her lovely maidens wore at that hour. Kriemhild would have let it be, except to hurt Brunhild.
They met in front of the wide cathedral. And the mistress of the house, out of sheer hatred, told Kriemhild rudely to stand still: "A bondswoman shall never walk in ahead of a king's wife."
Beautiful Kriemhild answered, and her heart was full of anger: "You should have kept your mouth shut; that would have been better for you. You have shamed your own lovely body yourself. How could a vassal's concubine ever become a king's wife?"
"Whom are you calling a concubine here?" said the king's wife.
"I am calling you one," Kriemhild said. "It was Siegfried, my dear husband, who was the first to have your lovely body. It was not my brother who took your virginity. Where were your wits? It was a wicked trick. Why did you let him love you, if he is your bondsman? I hear you complaining," said Kriemhild, "without any cause at all."
"Truly," said Brunhild, "I will tell Gunther this."
"What is that to me? Your arrogance has betrayed you. With your own words you have claimed me for your service. Know this, on my true loyalty: it will grieve me as long as I live, and I will never again be a loyal friend to your secrets."
Brunhild wept. Kriemhild waited no longer: she walked into the cathedral with her household ahead of the king's wife. That was the start of a great hatred, and bright eyes were dimmed and wet because of it.
However much was sung and done there in God's service, the time seemed far too long to Brunhild, for her body and her spirit were heavy. Many a bold, good hero would pay for that later. Brunhild went out with her ladies and stood in front of the cathedral. She thought: "Kriemhild must tell me more about what that sharp-tongued woman is accusing me of so loudly. If he has boasted of it, it will cost Siegfried his life."
Now noble Kriemhild came out with many a bold man, and Lady Brunhild said: "Stand still a moment. You said I was a concubine; you must let me see your proof. Your words have hurt me, I want you to know that."
Lady Kriemhild said: "You had better let me pass. I prove it with the gold I wear on my hand: my lover brought it to me when he first lay with me." Brunhild never lived through a worse day. She said: "This fine gold was stolen from me, and it has been wickedly hidden from me a very long time. I will get to the bottom of who took it from me." Both the ladies were now in a great passion.
Kriemhild said again: "I will not be made out a thief. You should have thought of that, if your honor was dear to you. I prove with the belt I wear here around my waist that I am not lying: truly, my Siegfried was your man." The belt she wore was silk from Nineveh, set with precious stones, and truly it was fine enough. When Lady Brunhild saw it, she began to weep. Now Gunther and all the men of Burgundy would have to hear of this.
The queen said: "Send here for the prince of the Rhine. I want him to hear how his sister has shamed me. She says openly here that I am Siegfried's woman."
The king came with his warriors, and he saw his dear wife weeping. How gently he spoke: "Tell me, dear lady, who has done anything to you?" She said to the king: "I stand here in misery. Your sister would gladly strip me of all my honor. I make my complaint to you: she says her husband Siegfried has had me as his concubine."
King Gunther said: "Then she has done wrong."
"She is wearing my belt here, which I lost, and my red gold. I bitterly regret that I was ever born unless you clear me, King, of this great shame. If you do, I will serve you for it forever."
King Gunther said: "He shall come forward. If he has boasted of it, he must let us hear it, or else he must deny it, the hero from the Netherlands." And Kriemhild's beloved was sent for at once.
When Lord Siegfried saw the two distressed women, he had no idea of the story, and how quickly he spoke: "Why are these ladies weeping? I would like to know that, and what reason the king has for sending for me."
King Gunther said: "It grieves me badly. My lady Brunhild has told me a story here: that you boasted you were the first to have her lovely body. Your wife Kriemhild says so."
Strong Siegfried said: "If she has said that, she will be sorry for it before I am done. And I will clear myself before all your men with solemn oaths that I never said it."
The king of the Rhine said: "Then let it be seen. The oath you offer, let it be sworn here and now, and I will hold you clear of every false charge." The proud Burgundians were told to stand in a ring. Bold Siegfried held out his hand for the oath. Then the mighty king said: "Your great innocence is so well known to me that I release you. What my sister accuses you of, you never did."
Siegfried said: "If my wife gets any good out of having made Brunhild unhappy, then truly I am sorry for it beyond all measure." And the good, handsome knights looked at one another.
"Women should be brought up," said Siegfried the warrior, "to leave idle talk alone. Forbid it to your wife, and I will do the same to mine. Truly, I am ashamed of her gross bad manners."
Many fair women were parted by those words. And Brunhild grieved so bitterly that it moved Gunther's men to pity. Then Hagen of Tronje came to his lady. He found her weeping and asked what was wrong. She told him the story, and on the spot he promised her that Kriemhild's husband would pay for it, or he himself would never be happy again.
Ortwin and Gernot joined the talk, as the heroes were planning Siegfried's death. Giselher came too, noble Ute's son, and when he heard what they were saying, he spoke like a loyal man: "You good warriors, why are you doing this? Siegfried never earned such hatred that he should lose his life for it. Truly, women get angry over very little."
"Are we to raise cuckolds?" Hagen said. "Good warriors like us would have little honor from that. Because he has boasted of my dear lady, I will die for it myself unless it costs him his life."
Then the king himself said: "He has done us nothing but good and brought us nothing but honor. Let him live. What would it gain me to turn against the warrior now? He was always loyal to us, and he was loyal gladly."
Ortwin of Metz, the warrior, said: "His great strength will not help him. If my lord allows it, I will do him harm." So the heroes had declared themselves his enemies without any cause. No one took it further, except that Hagen kept telling Gunther, every chance he got, that if Siegfried were no longer alive, a great many kings' lands would be subject to him. The hero began to brood on it.
They let it rest. The games went on, and oh, what stout shafts were splintered in front of the cathedral, before Siegfried's wife, all the way to the hall! But all Gunther's men were in a black mood. The king said: "Let this murderous anger go. He was born to be our good fortune and our honor. Besides, the man is so wonderfully bold and so terribly strong that if he ever found out, no one would dare face him."
"No," said Hagen. "You can keep quiet about it. I trust myself to arrange it so secretly that he will be sorry for Brunhild's tears. Truly, Hagen is his enemy from this day on."
King Gunther said: "How can that be done?" And Hagen answered: "I will tell you. We have messengers ride into this land to us, men no one here knows, and declare war on us openly. Then you announce in front of the guests that you and your men are going to war. Once that is done, he will promise to serve you in it, and that is how he will lose his life: I will get the secret out of the bold warrior's wife."
The king followed Hagen, his vassal, and it was a bad thing he did. The chosen knights began to plot a great treachery before anyone could find it out. Because two women quarreled, many a hero lost his life.
On the fourth morning thirty-two men were seen riding to court, and mighty Gunther was told that war had been declared on him. Out of that lie grew the greatest sorrow Lady Kriemhild ever knew. The men were given leave to come before the king, and they claimed to be Liudeger's men, the king whom Siegfried's hand had beaten before and brought as a hostage into Gunther's land. The king greeted the messengers and told them to sit down. One of them spoke up: "My lord, let us stand until we have delivered the message we were sent to bring you. Believe me, you have many a mother's son for an enemy. Liudegast and Liudeger, whom you once hurt so badly, declare war on you. They mean to ride into this land with an army." The king began to rage when he heard the news.
The false messengers were sent off to their lodgings. How could Lord Siegfried have guarded himself, he or anyone else, against what they were plotting? In the end that plot brought great sorrow on the plotters themselves. The king went about whispering with his kinsmen, and Hagen of Tronje never let him rest. Plenty of the king's men would still have put a stop to it, but Hagen would not be turned from his plan for a single day.
One day Siegfried found them whispering, and the hero from the Netherlands began to ask: "Why are the king and his men going about so sadly? If anyone has done him any wrong, I will always help him avenge it."
Lord Gunther said: "I have good reason to be sad. Liudegast and Liudeger have declared war on me. They mean to ride openly into my land."
"Then Siegfried's hand will stop that," said the bold warrior, "eagerly, and in a way that does full justice to your honor. I will deal with those warriors as I dealt with them before: I will lay their castles and their lands in ruins before I turn back, and my head is your pledge of it. You and your warriors are to stay at home, and let me ride against them with the men I have. I will let you see how gladly I serve you. Believe me, your enemies are going to suffer at my hands."
"How glad I am to hear it," said the king, as if he were honestly delighted at the help; and the treacherous man bowed low to him, with falseness in his heart. Lord Siegfried said: "You need not worry at all."
So they prepared the campaign with the squires, all of it staged for Siegfried and his men to see. He had his men from the Netherlands get ready too, and Siegfried's warriors looked out their fighting gear. Then strong Siegfried said: "My father Siegmund, you are to stay here. If God gives us luck, we will be back on the Rhine in a short while. You are to stay here with the king and enjoy yourself."
They fastened on their banners as if they meant to march, and plenty of Gunther's men there had no idea what it was really about. A great company could be seen gathered around Siegfried. They tied their helmets and their coats of mail onto the horses, and many a strong knight made ready to leave the land. Then Hagen of Tronje went to find Kriemhild and asked her leave to go, since they were about to leave the country.
"How glad I am," said Kriemhild, "that I ever won a husband who dares to stand up so well for my dear kinsmen, as my lord Siegfried is doing for my family. That puts me in high spirits," said the queen. "Dear friend Hagen, remember this: that I serve you gladly and never once bore you any hatred. Let my dear husband have the benefit of that. He must not pay for it if I did anything to Brunhild. I have been sorry for it since," said the noble lady. "And he has beaten me black and blue for it, because I ever said the things that troubled her heart. That bold and good hero has avenged it thoroughly."
He said: "You and she will be reconciled soon enough, in a few days' time. Kriemhild, my dear lady, tell me how I can serve you in the matter of Siegfried, your husband. I will gladly do it, my lady, for there is no one I would rather do it for."
"I would be free of all worry," said the noble lady, "that anyone might take his life in battle, if only he would not follow his own arrogance. Then that bold and good warrior would be safe."
"My lady," Hagen said, "if you have any fear that he can be wounded, you must let me know what kind of cunning I need to prevent it. I will always ride and walk at his side to guard him."
She said: "You are my kinsman, and I am yours. I entrust my dear love to your loyalty, so that you will guard my beloved husband well." And she told him things that had better been left unsaid.
She said: "My husband is bold, and strong enough too. When he killed the dragon at the mountain, the gallant warrior bathed in its blood, and since then no weapon has ever cut him in battle. And yet I am afraid whenever he stands in the fighting and so many spears fly from heroes' hands, afraid that I will lose my dear husband there. Oh, the worry I so often suffer over Siegfried! I am telling you this, dearest friend, trusting in your good faith, so that you will keep your loyalty to me: I am going to let you hear where my dear husband can be cut down. I do it in trust. When the hot blood flowed from the dragon's wounds and the bold good knight bathed in it, a broad linden leaf fell between his shoulder blades. There he can be wounded, and that is why I worry so much."
Hagen of Tronje said: "Sew a small mark on his clothing, so I know by it where I must guard him when we stand in battle." She thought she was saving the hero's life; it was done to bring about his death. She said: "With fine silk I will sew a secret cross on his clothing. There, hero, your hand must guard my husband when it comes to the thick of it, when he stands in the fighting before his enemies."
"I will do that, my dear lady," said Hagen. And the lady thought it would be to his good, but with that Kriemhild's husband was betrayed. Hagen took his leave, and went away cheerfully.
The king's whole household was in good spirits. I do not believe any warrior will ever again commit such a monstrous betrayal as Hagen did then, when Queen Kriemhild put her trust in his loyalty.
The next morning Lord Siegfried rode out cheerfully with a thousand of his men. He thought he was going to avenge the wrong done to his kinsmen. Hagen rode so close beside him that he could study his clothes. As soon as he had seen the mark, he secretly sent off two of his men, who brought back a different message: that Gunther's land was to remain at peace, and that Liudeger had sent them to the king. How unwillingly Siegfried turned back now, before he had avenged any of his kinsmen's wrong! Gunther's men could hardly turn him round. Then he rode to the king, and his host began to thank him.
"God reward you for your good will, friend Siegfried, for doing so willingly what I ask of you. I will always serve you for it, as I rightly should. I trust you more than any of my kinsmen. Now that we are rid of this campaign, I mean to ride out hunting bear and boar in the Vosges forest, as I have done so often." That was Hagen's counsel, that treacherous man. "Tell all my guests that we ride out early tomorrow. Those who want to hunt with me should get ready; and those who would rather stay here and pass the time with the ladies will please me just as well."
Lord Siegfried said, in his lordly way: "Whenever you ride out hunting, I will gladly come along. You must lend me a tracker and a few hounds, and I will ride into the forest."
"Will you take only one?" the king answered at once. "If you like, I will lend you four who know the woods well, and the trails the game follows, so that they will not let you lose your way back to camp."
Then the gallant warrior rode off to his wife, and in no time Hagen had told the king: "We shall have that excellent warrior yet." No man should ever practice treachery like that.
Gunther and Hagen, those bold warriors, treacherously proclaimed a hunt in the forest. With their sharp spears they meant to hunt boars and bears and bison. What could be braver? Siegfried rode with them in lordly style, and food of every kind was carried along. At a clear spring he would later lose his life, and it was Brunhild, King Gunther's wife, who had counseled it.
The bold warrior went to find Kriemhild. His fine hunting clothes and his companions' were already loaded on the pack-horses; they were going to cross the Rhine. Kriemhild could never have been sadder. He kissed his beloved on the mouth. "God grant that I see you again in health, lady, and that your eyes see me. Pass the time with your kinsmen who love you; I cannot stay at home."
Then she thought of what she had told Hagen—she dared not say a word of it—and the noble queen began to lament that she had ever been born. Lord Siegfried's wife wept without measure. She said to the warrior: "Let your hunting be. Last night I dreamed that two wild boars chased you across the heath, and the flowers turned red. I have good reason to weep like this, believe me. I am terribly afraid of some plot, that we may have wronged someone who could turn hatred against us. Stay here, dear lord. I advise it in true loyalty."
"My beloved," he said, "I will be back in a few days. I know of no one here who bears me any hatred. All your kinsmen are my friends alike, and I have deserved nothing else from the warriors here."
"No, Lord Siegfried, truly I fear your fall. Last night I had a terrible dream: two mountains fell down on top of you, and I never saw you again. If you leave me, it hurts me to the heart."
He took the good woman in his arms and caressed her lovely body with tender kisses, and in a little while he took his leave and went. Sadly, she never saw him in health again.
Then they rode away into a deep forest for the sport of it. Many a bold knight followed Gunther and his men, but Gernot and Giselher had stayed at home. Many loaded horses had crossed the Rhine ahead of them, carrying for the hunting party bread and wine, meat and fish, and plenty of other provisions, such as a king so rich has every right to have. The proud, bold hunters had camp made at the edge of the green forest, where the game would break cover, on a wide stretch of flat land by the river where they meant to hunt. Siegfried had arrived there too, and the king was told of it.
The hunting party now manned the watch-posts on every side. Then the bold man, Siegfried the strong, said: "Who is going to guide us into the forest after the game, you bold and daring heroes?"
"Shall we split up," said Hagen, "before we begin the hunt? That way my lords and I can tell who the best hunters on this forest trip are. We will divide the men and the hounds between us, and then let each man go wherever he likes. Whoever hunts best shall have our thanks." After that the hunters did not stay together long.
Lord Siegfried said: "I have no need of hounds, except for one tracker so well trained that it can follow an animal's trail through the pines. We will find game enough," said Kriemhild's husband.
Then an old huntsman took a good tracking hound, and in a short while he had brought the lord to where they found animals in plenty. Whatever rose from its lair the companions hunted down, as good hunters still do. Whatever the hound started, bold Siegfried, the hero from the Netherlands, killed with his own hand. His horse ran so fast that nothing got away from him, and he won the praise of them all at the hunt.
He was more than capable in everything. The first animal he killed with his hand was a strong young boar, and soon after that he found a monstrous lion. When the hound started it, he shot it with his bow; he had fitted a strong arrow to the string, and after the shot the lion ran only three bounds. His hunting companions thanked Siegfried. After that he quickly killed a bison and an elk, four strong aurochs and a savage schelch, a beast of the old forests. His horse carried him so fast that nothing escaped him; hart or hind could hardly get away from him.
The tracking hound found a great boar. When it tried to run, the master of that hunt was there at once and stood in its path. The boar charged the hero in a rage, and Kriemhild's husband killed it with his sword. Another hunter would not have managed that so easily. When he had felled it, they leashed the tracking hound, and the Burgundians soon knew all about his rich hunting.
Then his hunters said: "If it can be done without offense, Lord Siegfried, leave a few of the animals alive for us. You are emptying the mountain and the forest for us today." At that the bold, daring warrior began to smile.
Now on every side they heard clamor and din. The noise of men and hounds was so great that the mountain and the pine woods echoed it back. The hunters had loosed twenty-four packs, and many an animal had to lose its life. Each of them thought he would be given the prize of the hunt, but that could not happen, once strong Siegfried was seen standing by the fire. The hunt was over, and yet not entirely. Those who were going to the fire brought with them hides of many animals and game in plenty. What a load of it the king's household carried to the kitchen!
Then the king had word sent to the chosen hunters that he wanted to eat. A horn was blown once, very loud, and by that they knew the noble prince was to be found at the camp. One of Siegfried's huntsmen said: "My lord, I hear from a horn's blast that we are to come to the camp now. I will answer it." And with much blowing of horns the companions were called in.
Lord Siegfried said: "Now let us leave the pine woods too." His horse carried him at an easy pace, and they hurried along with him. With their noise they started a fearsome animal: it was a wild bear. The warrior said over his shoulder: "I am going to give us companions some good entertainment. Let the hound loose; I see a bear. It is coming with us to the camp. Unless it runs very fast, it will never get away."
The hound was loosed and the bear bounded off. Kriemhild's husband wanted to ride it down, but it got into a thicket where that could not be done, and the strong animal thought itself safe from the hunter. Then the proud, good knight sprang from his horse and ran after it on foot. The animal was off its guard; it could not escape him, and he caught it at once. Without giving it a single wound the hero quickly bound it, so that it could neither scratch nor bite anyone. He tied it to his saddle and the swift man mounted. In his high spirits the warrior, bold and good, brought it to the fire as a bit of fun.
How splendidly he rode to the camp! His spear was huge, strong and broad. A handsome sword hung down to his spurs, and the lord carried a beautiful horn of red gold. I never heard tell of better hunting clothes. He was seen wearing a coat of black silk and a hat of sable, rich enough, and what costly bands he had on his quiver! A panther's skin was drawn over it, for the sweet smell. He also carried a bow that anyone else who meant to draw it would have had to draw with a winch; he did it himself. His whole outfit was of otter skin from head to foot, and scattered over the bright fur were strips of gold, shining on both sides of the bold master of the hunt. He carried Balmung, a fine broad weapon, so sharp that it never failed wherever it was struck on helmets; its edges were good. The splendid hunter was in high spirits. Since I am to tell you the whole story: his noble quiver was full of good arrows with golden sockets, their blades a good hand's breadth across. Whatever he cut with those had to die very soon.
So the noble knight rode off in his hunter's gear. Gunther's men saw him coming; they ran to meet him and took his horse, and there beside the saddle he led a big, strong bear. When he had dismounted he loosed the bonds from its feet and its muzzle. At once the whole pack set up a howl, every hound that saw the bear. The animal wanted to get to the forest, and the people were in trouble. Frightened by the noise, the bear blundered into the kitchen. How many kitchen boys it scattered from the fire! Many a kettle was knocked over and many a burning brand scattered, and what good food was found lying in the ashes!
The lords and their men sprang up from their seats. The bear grew angry, and the king ordered the whole pack loosed from the leashes where it lay. If it had all ended well, they would have had a merry day. With bows and spears, and no more delay, the quick men ran after the bear. There were so many hounds about it that no one could shoot, and the whole mountain rang with the people's shouting. The bear began to run from the hounds, and no one could keep up with it except Kriemhild's husband. He ran it down with his sword and struck it dead, and then the bear was carried back to the fire. Those who saw it said he was a powerful man.
The proud hunting party was called to the tables, and a good many of them sat down on a beautiful meadow. What rich food was carried to those noble hunters! But the cupbearers who should have brought the wine were slow in coming. Otherwise heroes could never have been better served. If there had not been such false hearts among them, the warriors would have been safe from every disgrace.
Lord Siegfried said: "It amazes me, when they send us so much from the kitchen, that the cupbearers do not bring us the wine. If hunters are not looked after better than this, I will not be a hunting companion. I have earned better treatment than this."
The king spoke from his table, falsely: "We will gladly make good whatever is lacking. It is Hagen's fault; he wants to let us die of thirst."
Hagen of Tronje said: "My dear lord, I thought today's hunt was to be in the Spessart forest, and I sent the wine there. If we go thirsty today, I will take good care it never happens again."
Lord Siegfried said: "Bad luck to you for it. Seven pack-loads of mead and clear wine should have been brought here for me, and if that could not be done, we should have been seated nearer the Rhine."
Hagen of Tronje said: "You noble, bold knights, I know a cold spring near here. Do not be angry; let us go there." That advice would bring many a warrior great sorrow. Thirst was tormenting Siegfried the warrior, and he ordered the table cleared away all the sooner; he wanted to go past the hills to the spring. The advice had been given by the warriors with evil in it. The animals Siegfried's hand had killed were ordered loaded on wagons and sent home, and everyone who saw them gave him great honor. Hagen broke his loyalty to Siegfried, and broke it badly.
When they were about to set off for the broad linden tree, Hagen of Tronje said: "I have often been told that no one can keep up with Kriemhild's husband when he wants to run. If only he would show us!"
Bold Siegfried of the Netherlands said: "You can easily test that, if you will race me to the spring. When it is done, the prize goes to whoever is seen to win."
"Then let us try it," said Hagen the warrior.
Swift Siegfried said: "Then I will lie down in the grass at your feet." When Gunther heard that, how glad it made him! The bold warrior went on: "I will tell you more. I will carry all my gear with me, my spear and my shield and all my hunting clothes." He quickly strapped on his quiver and his sword.
Then the other two pulled their clothes off, and the two of them were seen standing in their white shirts. Like two wild panthers they ran through the clover, but it was bold Siegfried who was seen at the spring first. He carried off the prize in everything, ahead of many a man. He quickly unbuckled his sword and laid the quiver aside, and he leaned his strong spear against a branch of the linden. The splendid guest stood beside the running spring. Siegfried's courtesy was very great. He laid his shield down where the water flowed, and however badly he thirsted, the hero did not drink until the king had drunk. He got poor thanks for it.
The spring was cool, clear and good. Gunther bent down to the water, and when he had drunk he straightened up again. Bold Siegfried would gladly have done the same, and now he paid for his good manners. Hagen carried his bow and his sword away out of his reach, then sprang back to where he had left the spear, and looked for the mark on the bold man's clothing. As Lord Siegfried bent over the spring and drank, Hagen shot him through the cross, so that the blood from his heart spurted out of the wound and splashed hard on Hagen's clothes. No hero will ever commit so great a crime again. He left the spear sticking in him near the heart. Never in the world did Hagen run so desperately from any man as he fled then.
When Lord Siegfried felt the great wound, the lord sprang up from the spring in a fury, with a long spear-shaft standing out from his heart. The prince thought to find his bow or his sword, and if he had, Hagen would have been paid what his service deserved. When the sorely wounded man found no sword, he had nothing left but the rim of his shield. He snatched it up from the spring and ran at Hagen, and King Gunther's man could not get away from him. Wounded to death as he was, he struck so powerfully that a shower of precious stones flew from the shield and the shield itself burst to pieces. The splendid guest would gladly have had his revenge. Hagen was knocked to the ground by his hand, and the flat by the river rang loudly with the force of the blow. If he had had the sword in his hand, it would have been Hagen's death, so terribly did the wounded man rage. He had good reason to.
His color had drained away; he could not stand. All the strength of his body was leaving him, for he carried death's mark in his pale face. Later many beautiful women wept for him. Then Kriemhild's husband fell among the flowers. The blood was seen running hard from his wound. In his great extremity he began to curse those who had plotted the treacherous death against him.
The mortally wounded man said: "You wretched cowards. What good are my services, now that you have killed me? I was always loyal to you, and this is what it has cost me. You have done a wicked thing to your own kinsmen. Everyone born of your blood from this day on is disgraced by it. You have avenged your anger far too hard on my body. In shame you shall be set apart from all good warriors."
The knights all ran to where he lay slain. For many of them it was a joyless day, and those who had any loyalty in them mourned him. The bold and gallant knight had well deserved it. The king of Burgundy lamented his death. The dying man said: "There is no need for the man who did the harm to weep over it. He earns great blame for it. It would have been better left undone."
Grim Hagen said: "I do not know what he is lamenting. All our fear and all our sorrow are over now. We will find very few who dare to stand against us. Good for me, that I have put an end to his rule."
"You may easily boast," said Siegfried. "If I had recognized your murderous nature, I would have kept my life safe from you. Nothing grieves me so much as Lady Kriemhild, my wife. Now God have mercy that I ever had a son, who will be reproached in time to come because his own kinsmen murdered a man. If I could," said Siegfried, "I would have every right to lament that."
Then the mortally wounded man said pitifully: "Noble king, if you ever mean to keep loyalty to anyone in this world, let my dear beloved be commended to your grace. Let it count for her that she is your sister. By the virtue of all princes, stand by her loyally. My father and my men will have a long wait for me. Never was a woman so wronged in a beloved husband."
The flowers all around were wet with blood. Then he struggled with death, but not for long, for death's weapon always cuts too deep. Then the bold and gallant warrior could speak no more.
When the lords saw that the hero was dead, they laid him on a shield of red gold and took counsel how to arrange it so that no one would know Hagen had done it. Many of them said: "This is an evil thing that has happened to us. You must all hide it and all tell the same story: that Kriemhild's husband rode out hunting alone, and robbers killed him as he went through the pine woods."
Hagen of Tronje said: "I will bring him home myself. I do not care in the least if she finds out, the woman who has so troubled Brunhild's heart. It matters very little to me how much she weeps."
They waited for nightfall and then crossed the Rhine. No heroes ever hunted worse. The one beast they killed was wept for by noble girls, and truly, many good fighting men would pay for it later. Now you can hear about great arrogance and terrible revenge. Hagen had Siegfried of the Nibelung land carried, dead as he was, to the door of the chamber where Kriemhild lodged. He had him laid there secretly, against the door, so that she would find him when she went out to matins before daybreak—the early service that Lady Kriemhild hardly ever slept through.
The bells rang from the cathedral as they always did. Lady Kriemhild the beautiful woke her many maids and asked for a light to be brought, and her clothes. Then a chamberlain came along and found Siegfried. He saw him red with blood, his clothes soaked through. That this was his lord he had no idea. He carried the light on into the chamber, and that was how Lady Kriemhild learned the terrible news. As she was about to set out with her ladies for the cathedral, the chamberlain said: "Stop where you are. A knight is lying outside this room, struck dead." At that Kriemhild began to wail beyond all measure.
Before she had even made sure that it was her husband, she began to think of Hagen's question—how he could protect him. Then her sorrow truly began. With his death she gave up every joy she had. She sank to the floor without a word, and there the beautiful woman lay, all her happiness gone. Kriemhild's anguish grew past measuring. When she came out of her faint, she screamed until the whole chamber rang with it.
Her household said: "What if it is some stranger?" The blood burst from her mouth, from the pain in her heart, and she said: "It is Siegfried, my own dear husband. Brunhild planned this, and Hagen did it."
The lady had herself led to where the hero lay. She lifted his handsome head with her white hand, and red with blood as it was, she knew him at once. There lay the hero of the Nibelung land, a piteous sight. Then the gracious lady cried out in her grief: "Oh, my sorrow! Your shield is not hacked by any sword. You lie here murdered. If I knew who did this, I would plot his death for the rest of my life."
All her household wailed and cried out with their dear lady, for they were sick at heart for the noble lord they had lost. Hagen had avenged Brunhild's anger, and avenged it hard.
Then the grieving woman said: "Chamberlain, go now, and quickly wake Siegfried's men. And tell Siegmund of my anguish, and ask whether he will help me mourn bold Siegfried."
A messenger ran fast to where Siegfried's heroes from the Nibelung land lay sleeping, and with his terrible news he took their joy away. They would not believe it until they heard the weeping. The messenger soon came to where the king lay too. Lord Siegmund was not asleep; I think his heart had told him what had happened to him. He would never see his dear son alive again.
"Wake up, Lord Siegmund. My lady Kriemhild sent me for you. A wrong has been done to her that cuts her to the heart more than any sorrow before, and you must help her mourn it, for it touches you deeply too."
Siegmund sat up. He said: "What is this sorrow of beautiful Kriemhild's that you are telling me about?"
The messenger said, weeping: "I cannot keep it from you. Bold Siegfried of the Netherlands has been killed."
Lord Siegmund said: "Stop this joking, for my sake, and stop telling anyone such evil news, that he has been killed. I could never finish mourning him as long as I lived."
"If you will not believe what you hear me say, then you can go and hear for yourself how Kriemhild and all her household are mourning Siegfried's death." Then Siegmund was badly frightened, and truly he had reason.
He and a hundred of his men sprang from their beds and snatched up their long sharp weapons, and they ran toward the wailing, sick with grief. Then came a thousand warriors, bold Siegfried's men. When they heard the women lamenting so pitifully, some of them remembered they ought to be wearing clothes. Truly, their grief had robbed them of their wits. A great heaviness had buried itself in their hearts.
Then bold Siegmund came to where Kriemhild was. He said: "Alas for the journey to this land! Who has robbed me of my child, and you of your husband, so murderously, here among such good friends?"
"Oh, if I knew him," said the noble woman, "neither my heart nor my body would ever wish him well again. I would plan such harm for him that his kinsmen would be weeping because of me."
Lord Siegmund wrapped his arms around the prince. Then the anguish of his kinsmen grew so great that the palace and the hall, and the whole town of Worms, rang with their crying and weeping. No one could comfort Siegfried's wife. They stripped the clothes from his handsome body, washed his wounds, and laid him on the bier. His people ached with the greatness of their grief.
Then his warriors from the Nibelung land said: "Our hands will avenge him, and gladly. The man who did this is here in this castle." And all Siegfried's men rushed for their weapons. The chosen fighters came with their shields, eleven hundred warriors; Lord Siegmund had that many in his company. He wanted to avenge his son's death, and truly he had reason. They did not know whom they should fight, unless it was Gunther and his men, with whom Lord Siegfried had ridden to the hunt.
Kriemhild saw them armed, and it grieved her terribly. However great her anguish and however deep her distress, she was so afraid the Nibelungs would die at the hands of her brothers' men that she stopped it. She warned them kindly, as loving kinsmen warn their kin. The grief-stricken woman said: "My lord Siegmund, what are you starting? You do not understand how things stand here. Truly, King Gunther has so many bold men that you will all be lost if you take those warriors on."
With their shields raised they were eager to fight. The noble queen begged and commanded the brave warriors to leave it alone, and when they would not give it up, truly it grieved her. She said: "Lord Siegmund, you must let it rest until a better time comes. Then I will avenge my husband with you, always. Once I have proof of who took him from me, I will make him pay. There are too many arrogant men here on the Rhine, so I will not advise you to fight. They have a good thirty men for every one of yours. Now may God give them what they have earned from us. Stay here and bear my sorrow with me, and when day begins to break, you brave heroes, help me lay my dear husband in his coffin." The fighters said: "That shall be done."
No one could tell you the whole wonder of it, how knights and ladies were heard lamenting, until the wailing was noticed in the town itself. The noble townspeople came hurrying. They mourned with the guests, for it grieved them deeply that no one had told them of any guilt of Siegfried's, any reason why the noble warrior should have lost his life. The wives of the good townsmen wept with the ladies of the court. Smiths were ordered to hurry and make a coffin of silver and gold, big and strong, and to band it tight with good steel. Every heart was heavy.
The night was gone; they said day was dawning. Then the noble lady had Lord Siegfried, her dear husband, carried to the cathedral. Whatever friends he had there were seen weeping as they went. When they brought him into the cathedral, many bells rang, and on every side you could hear the chanting of many priests. Then King Gunther came with his men, and grim Hagen too, toward the sound of wailing.
He said: "Dearest sister, alas for your sorrow, and that we cannot be spared this great loss. We will mourn Siegfried's death forever."
"You do that without cause," said the grieving woman. "If it grieved you, it would never have happened. You forgot me, I can say that now, when I was parted from my dear husband. Would to God," said Kriemhild, "that it had been done to me instead."
They denied it firmly. Then Kriemhild said: "Whoever claims he is innocent, let him prove it. He must walk up to the bier in front of everyone. That way the truth will be known quickly enough."
It is a great wonder, and it still happens often today: whenever a murderer, stained with the killing, is seen beside the dead man, the wounds begin to bleed. And that is what happened here, and so the guilt was seen to be Hagen's. The wounds flowed freely, as they had before, and those who had been weeping already now wept far more.
Then King Gunther said: "I want you to know that robbers killed him. Hagen did not do it."
"I know those robbers well," she said. "Now may God let his kinsmen's hands avenge it. Gunther and Hagen, you did this." Siegfried's fighters were ready to go to war. Then Kriemhild said once more: "Bear this distress with me."
Now these two came to where they found him dead: Gernot, her brother, and young Giselher. They mourned him loyally, along with the others, and wept from their hearts for Kriemhild's husband. Mass was to be sung, and so from every side men, women, and children went to the cathedral. Even those who could easily have spared him wept for Siegfried then.
Gernot and Giselher said: "Sister, comfort yourself after this death, since it must be so. As long as we live we will try to make it up to you." But no one in the world could give her any comfort.
His coffin was ready around midday. They lifted him from the bier where he lay, but still the lady would not let him be buried, and that cost everyone a great deal of trouble. They wrapped the dead man in rich silk, and I think there was no one there who did not weep. Ute, that noble woman, and all her household mourned his handsome body with all their hearts. When word went around that there was singing in the cathedral and that he had been laid in his coffin, a great crowd gathered. What offerings they brought for his soul! He had good friends enough, even among his enemies.
Poor Kriemhild said to the chamberlains: "Those of you who wished him well and are loyal to me must take some trouble for my sake. For Siegfried's soul, share out his gold." No child was so small, if it had any sense at all, that it did not go up to make an offering before he was buried. More than a hundred masses were sung that day, and there was a great crush of Siegfried's friends.
When the singing was over, the people went away. Then Lady Kriemhild said: "Do not let me keep watch over this chosen warrior alone tonight. All my joy lies in his body. I will let him lie three days and three nights, until I have had my fill of looking at my dear husband. And what if God wills that death should take me too? Then poor Kriemhild's misery would be well ended."
The people of the town went back to their lodgings. She asked the priests and the monks to stay, and all his household who had served the hero. They had hard nights and weary days. Many a man went without food or drink, and those who wanted some were told that they would be given plenty; Lord Siegmund saw to that. Those were hard days for the Nibelungs.
For those three days, as we have heard, the men who could sing had to bear a great deal of labor. And what offerings people brought them! Those who had been very poor became rich enough. Whatever poor people were found who had nothing to give were sent to the offering with gold from Siegfried's own treasury. Since he could not live, many thousand marks were given for his soul. They gave away lands with their rents across the whole country, wherever cloisters and good people were found, and gave the poor silver and clothing in plenty. By what she did she showed plainly how much she loved him.
On the third morning, at the hour of Mass, the wide churchyard beside the cathedral was full of country people weeping. They served him after his death as one should serve beloved kin. In those four days, so it has been said, thirty thousand marks or even more were given to the poor for his soul. His great beauty and his life lay low.
When God had been served and the singing was finished, a great many people struggled with overwhelming grief. He was carried out of the cathedral to the grave, and those who could hardly bear to lose him were seen weeping and lamenting. The people went with him, crying out loud; no one was glad there, neither woman nor man. Before they buried him they sang and read the service. Oh, what good priests were at his burial!
Before Siegfried's wife had even reached the grave, her loyal heart wrestled so hard with its anguish that again and again they had to douse her with water from the well. Her misery was beyond all measure. It was a great wonder that she survived it at all. Many a lady helped her lament. Then the queen said: "You men of Siegfried, by your loyalty, show me this one mercy. After all my sorrow let me have this small joy, that I may see his handsome head once more." She begged so long, with the strength of her anguish, that they had to break open the splendid coffin.
They brought the lady to where he lay. She lifted his handsome head with her white hand and kissed the good and noble knight, dead as he was. Her bright eyes wept blood for grief. It was a parting of terrible anguish. They carried her away from there, for she could not walk, and then they found the glorious woman lying senseless. Her lovely body might have died of grief.
When the noble lord had been buried at last, all those who had come with him from the Nibelung land were seen to suffer grief beyond measure, and Siegmund was very seldom seen glad. There were some among them who for three days neither ate nor drank for the greatness of their sorrow. But they could not let their bodies waste away entirely. They recovered from their grief, as plenty of people still do.
Kriemhild's father-in-law went to find her. He said to the queen: "We must go home to our own land. I think we are unwelcome guests here on the Rhine. Kriemhild, dear lady, come with me now to my lands. Treachery has robbed us of your noble husband here in this country, but you shall not pay for that. For my son's sake I will stand by you; have no doubt of it. You shall have, my lady, all the power that bold Siegfried gave you before. The land and the crown too shall be yours to command, and all Siegfried's men will serve you gladly."
Then the squires were told that they were to ride, and there was a great rush for the horses; they hated being among their strong enemies. The ladies and the girls were told to pack their clothes.
When King Siegmund was ready to ride, Kriemhild's kinsmen began begging her to stay there with her mother. The lady said: "My lord, that could never be. How could I ever look at the man who has brought such grief on me, poor woman that I am?"
Then young Giselher said: "My dear sister, for your loyalty's sake you should stay here with your mother. The people who have hurt you and darkened your spirit, you need nothing from them. Live on my goods alone."
She said to the warrior: "No, it cannot be. I would die of grief every time I had to look at Hagen."
"I will see to that, my dear sister. You shall live with your brother Giselher, and truly I will make up to you for your husband's death." Then the grief-stricken woman said: "Kriemhild has need of that."
Since young Giselher offered it so kindly, Ute and Gernot and her loyal kinsmen began to plead with her too. They begged her to stay, for she had few relatives among Siegfried's men. "They are all strangers to you," said Gernot. "No man alive is so strong that he will not lie dead one day. Think of that, dear sister, and comfort your heart. Stay with your family; truly, it will be good for you."
She promised Giselher that she would stay. The horses had been led out for Siegmund's men, since they meant to ride to the Nibelung land, and all the warriors' gear was loaded on the pack-horses. Then Lord Siegmund went and stood beside Kriemhild. He said to the lady: "Siegfried's men are waiting by the horses. Now we must ride, for I have no wish to stay among the Burgundians."
Lady Kriemhild said: "My kinsmen advise me, all the loyal ones I have, that I should stay here with them. I have no family in the Nibelung land." It grieved Siegmund deeply when he found out what Kriemhild had decided.
King Siegmund said: "Let no one tell you that. Before all my kinsmen you shall wear the crown with all the power you had before. You shall not suffer for it that we have lost the hero. And come back with us for your little child's sake; my lady, you must not leave him an orphan. When your son is grown, he will comfort your heart. Until then many a bold and good hero shall serve you."
She said: "Lord Siegmund, no, I cannot ride. Whatever becomes of me, I must stay here with my kinsmen, who help me mourn." That answer did not please the good warriors at all. They all said the same thing: "Then we may well say that only now has real sorrow come to us. If you stay here among our enemies, no heroes ever rode home from a court more sorrowfully."
Kriemhild answered: "You shall ride without fear, in God's keeping. You will be given a good escort; I will have you guarded well all the way to Siegmund's land. And my dear little child I commend to your care, you warriors."
When they understood that she would not come, all Siegmund's men wept together. How bitterly Siegmund parted from Lady Kriemhild! Now he knew what misery was. "Curse this festival!" said the noble king. "Never again will a king and his kinsmen suffer, for the sake of a pastime, what has happened to us here. We shall never be seen among the Burgundians again."
Then Siegmund's men said openly: "There may yet be a journey back to this land, once we find out for certain who killed our lord. They have enemies enough among his kinsmen, and strong ones."
He kissed Kriemhild. How sorrowfully he spoke, when he saw for certain that she would stay: "Now let us ride home to our land, with no joy in us. Only now do I know all my sorrows."
They rode from Worms down to the Rhine without an escort. They could be very sure that if anyone attacked them with hostile intent, the bold Nibelungs would know how to defend themselves. They asked no one's leave to go. But then Gernot and Giselher were seen coming to Siegmund in friendship; his loss grieved them, and the bold, spirited heroes made sure he knew it. Prince Gernot said courteously: "God in heaven knows well that I bear no guilt for Siegfried's death, and I never heard it said who his enemy was here. I have good reason to mourn him."
Then young Giselher gave them a good escort. He brought the king and his warriors, full of sorrow, out of the land and home to the Netherlands. How few of their kinsmen were found in good spirits there!
How they fared after that, I cannot tell you. At Worms, Kriemhild could be heard lamenting at every hour, and no one comforted her heart or her spirit except Giselher; he was loyal and good. Beautiful Brunhild sat in her arrogance. However much Kriemhild wept, it meant nothing to her, and she was never again ready to show her any good faith. Later Lady Kriemhild caused her the bitterest sorrow of heart in return.
When noble Kriemhild was left a widow like this, Count Eckewart stayed on in the land with his men and served her every day; and often he helped his lady mourn his lord. At Worms, beside the cathedral, they built a house for her, wide and very large, rich and grand, and there she lived from then on with her household, without joy. She loved to go to church, and she went faithfully. To the place where her beloved lay buried she went all the time, with a heavy heart; how seldom she missed a day. She asked the good God to care for his soul, and she wept for the warrior many times over, with great loyalty.
Ute and her household comforted her at every hour, but her heart was so terribly wounded that nothing could help her, whatever comfort they offered. She had the greatest longing for her dear husband that any woman ever had for the man she loved; you could see her great goodness in it. She mourned until her end, as long as she lived. Later, bold Siegfried's wife took her revenge, and took it with courage.
So she sat with her grief after her husband's death, it is all true, for a good three and a half years, and in all that time she never spoke a word to Gunther and never once set eyes on her enemy Hagen.
Then the hero of Tronje said: "If you could manage to make a friend of your sister again, then the Nibelung gold would come to these lands. You could win a great deal of it, if the queen were well-disposed toward us."
"Let us try it," said Gunther. "My brothers are with her. We will ask them to bring it about that she is our friend, if we can win her over to the point that she is glad to see it."
"I do not believe," said Hagen, "that it will ever happen."
Then he had Ortwin go to court, and the margrave Gere too. When that was done, they brought Gernot as well, and young Giselher. Then they tried it with Lady Kriemhild in a friendly way. Bold Gernot of Burgundy said: "Lady, you have mourned Siegfried's death too long. The king will give you proof that he did not kill him. People hear you lamenting so terribly, all the time."
She said: "No one accuses him of it. Hagen's hand struck him down, at the place where he could be wounded. When he found that out from me, how could I have believed that he hated him? I would have taken good care," said the queen, "never to betray his life. Then I could stop my weeping now, poor woman that I am. I will never be a friend to the ones who did it." Then Giselher, that very handsome man, began to plead with her.
"I will greet the king." When she had granted him that, Gunther was seen standing before her with his closest kinsmen. But Hagen did not dare come into her presence; he knew his guilt well enough. He had done her wrong. Since she was willing to give up her hatred of Gunther, and he was to kiss her, it would have suited him far better if the wrong had never been done to her on his advice; then he could have gone to Kriemhild with nothing on his conscience. Never was peace made among kinsmen with so many tears. Her loss still hurt her. She forgave them all, except the one man: no one would ever have killed Siegfried if Hagen had not done it.
Not long after that they arranged for Lady Kriemhild to have the great treasure brought from the Nibelung land to the Rhine. It was her morning gift, the gift a husband gives his bride the morning after the wedding, and it was hers by right. Giselher and Gernot went to fetch it. Kriemhild ordered eight thousand men to bring it from where it lay hidden, where the warrior Alberich guarded it with his closest kinsmen.
When they saw the men from the Rhine coming for the treasure, bold Alberich said to his kinsmen: "We dare not keep back any of the treasure from her, since the noble queen claims it as her morning gift. And yet it would never happen at all," said Alberich, "if we had not lost, along with Siegfried, the good cloak of invisibility — and lost it so badly. Fair Kriemhild's beloved wore it all the time. Now it has turned out badly for Siegfried, worse luck, that the hero took that cloak from us and that all this land had to serve him." Then the keeper went to where the keys were kept.
Kriemhild's men stood before the mountain, and some of her kinsmen with them. They had the treasure carried down to the sea and into the ships, and it was carried on the waves upriver to the Rhine. Now you can hear wonders told of that treasure. As much as twelve wagons could carry at the most, they hauled it away from the mountain in four days and nights, and each wagon had to make three trips a day. It was nothing but gems and gold, and if the wages of the whole world had been paid out of it, it would not have been a single mark the poorer. Truly, Hagen had not wanted it for nothing. The best of it all lay buried in it: a little rod of gold, and whoever learned its secret could be master over every single man in all the world. Many of Alberich's kinsmen came away with Gernot.
When they had stored the treasure in Gunther's land and the queen first took charge of it, chambers and towers were filled with it. No one ever heard such wonders told of wealth. And had there been a thousand times as much, if only Lord Siegfried were alive and well, Kriemhild would gladly have stood beside him with empty hands. No hero ever won a more loyal wife.
Now that she had the treasure, she brought many warriors no one knew into the land. Yes, the lady's hand gave so freely that such generosity was never seen again. She practiced many good virtues; people granted the queen that. She began to give now to the poor and the rich alike, so freely that Hagen said if she lived much longer she would win so many men into her service that it would end in sorrow for them.
Then King Gunther said: "Her life and her goods are her own. How am I to stop whatever she does with them? I had a hard enough time winning her goodwill back. Let us not care where she shares out her silver and her gold."
Hagen said to the king: "A sensible man would not leave any of that treasure to any woman. With her gifts she will bring on the day that the bold Burgundians may bitterly regret."
King Gunther said: "I swore her an oath that I would never do her any wrong again, and I will keep it from now on. She is my sister."
Then Hagen said: "Let me be the guilty one."
Some of their oaths were not kept. They took the mighty treasure from the widow, and Hagen got hold of all the keys. That made her brother Gernot angry when he learned the truth of it. Lord Giselher said: "Hagen has done my sister a great wrong. I ought to put a stop to it. If he were not my kinsman, it would cost him his life." Siegfried's wife wept all over again.
Lord Gernot said: "Before this gold troubles us forever, we should have the whole of it sunk in the Rhine; then it would belong to no one." Very pitifully she went and stood before her brother Giselher. "Dear brother," she said, "you must think of me. You must be my guardian, for my life and my goods both." He said to the lady: "It shall be done when we come back again. We are planning to ride."
The king and his kinsmen then left the land, the very best men among them that could be found anywhere — all but Hagen alone. He stayed behind out of the hatred he bore Kriemhild, and he stayed behind on purpose. Before the mighty king came home again, Hagen had taken the whole treasure. He poured it all into the Rhine at Loche. He thought he would make use of it himself; that was never to be. The princes came back, and many men with them. Kriemhild began to lament her great loss, with her maidens and her ladies; it grieved them bitterly. Giselher would gladly have stood by her with all his loyalty. They all said together: "He has done wrong." Hagen kept out of the princes' anger until he had won back their favor, and they let him live. But Kriemhild could never have been more his enemy than she was now.
Before Hagen of Tronje hid the treasure like this, they had bound themselves with oaths so strong that it should stay hidden as long as any one of them was alive. Afterwards they could not give it to themselves or to anyone else. Her heart was weighed down with fresh sorrow, for her husband's death and because they had taken her wealth from her so completely, and her lament never stopped as long as she lived, down to her last day. After Siegfried's death, it is the plain truth, she lived in great pain for thirteen years, and she could not forget the warrior's death. She was loyal to him; most people grant her that.
It was in the days after Lady Helche died, when King Etzel was looking for another wife, that his kinsmen urged him toward a proud widow in the land of Burgundy. Her name was Lady Kriemhild. Now that beautiful Helche was gone, they said: "If you ever want to win a noble wife, the highest and the best a king ever had, then take this same lady. Strong Siegfried was her husband."
The mighty king said: "How could that ever happen? I am a pagan, and I have never been baptized, and the lady is a Christian. She would never consent. It would take a miracle for it ever to come about."
But the quick-witted men said: "What if she does it anyway, for the sake of your great name and your great wealth? It is worth putting the question to so noble a woman. You could love her beautiful self very gladly."
The noble king asked: "Which of you knows the people and the land by the Rhine?" Then good Rüdiger of Pöchlarn spoke up: "I have known those noble kings since I was a child: Gunther and Gernot, fine and noble knights, and the third is called Giselher. Each of them does everything that honor and good breeding can ask of a man, and their forefathers always did the same."
Etzel said again: "Friend, you must tell me whether she is worthy to wear a crown in my land. And if she is as beautiful as I have been told, my closest kinsmen will never have cause to regret it."
"In beauty she is the equal of my own dear lady, mighty Helche. Truly, there could be no king's wife in all this world more beautiful. The man she chooses as her husband can take real comfort in it."
The king said: "Then go and win her, Rüdiger, as you love me. And if I ever lie beside Kriemhild, I will reward you for it as well as I know how, for you will have done my will to the very fullest. From my own treasury I will have you given horses and clothes and everything you want, so that you and your companions can live in good cheer. I will have plenty of it made ready for your embassy."
To that Rüdiger, the mighty margrave — the lord who guarded Etzel's western border — answered: "To ask for your goods would do me no credit. I will gladly be your messenger to the Rhine at my own expense, with what I already have from your hand."
The mighty king said: "Now, when will you set out after the lovely woman? May God keep you on the journey in all honor, and my lady too. And may good luck help me, so that she looks kindly on us."
Rüdiger said: "Before we leave this land, we must first make ready weapons and clothing, so that we can stand before princes with honor. I will take five hundred fine men to the Rhine, so that wherever they see me and mine in Burgundy, every one of them will say of you that no king ever sent so many men so far in such fine style as you have sent to the Rhine. And, mighty king, if you will not give it up on this account: she was bound in noble love to Siegfried, Siegmund's son. You have seen him here yourself. In all truth, one had to grant him real honor."
The noble king said: "If she was that warrior's wife, then the noble prince was precious enough that I should not disdain the queen. Her great beauty pleases me well."
The margrave said: "Then I will tell you this: we set out from here in twenty-four days. I will send word to Gotelind, my dear wife, that I myself mean to be the messenger to Kriemhild."
Rüdiger sent his message to Pöchlarn, and the margrave's wife grew both sad and proud. He told her that he was to win a wife for the king, and she thought lovingly of beautiful Helche. When the margravine heard the message, part of her grieved, and weeping became her, as she wondered whether she would ever have a lady like the one before. Whenever she thought of Helche, it pained her to the heart.
Rüdiger rode out of Hungary seven days later. King Etzel was glad and in high spirits at that. There in the city of Vienna they made their clothes ready for him; then he could put off his journey no longer. At Pöchlarn Gotelind was waiting for him, and the young margravine, Rüdiger's daughter, was glad to see her father and his men. Beautiful girls were waiting for them with love. Before noble Rüdiger rode to Pöchlarn out of the city of Vienna, all their clothes had been loaded in full on the pack-horses. They traveled so well guarded that hardly anything was taken from them.
When they came into the town of Pöchlarn, the host very kindly had his traveling companions lodged and made them comfortable, and mighty Gotelind was very glad to see the host come home. So was his dear daughter, the young margravine; nothing could have pleased her more than his coming. And how glad she was to see the heroes from the land of the Huns! With a laughing heart the noble young lady said: "A great welcome to you, my father and his men." Then many a good knight gave the young margravine warm and careful thanks. Gotelind knew Lord Rüdiger's mind very well.
That night, as she lay close beside Rüdiger, how kindly the margravine asked him where the king of the Huns had sent him. He said: "My lady Gotelind, I will gladly tell you. I am to win another wife for my lord, now that beautiful Helche is dead. I am going to ride to the Rhine for Kriemhild. She is to be a mighty queen here among the Huns."
"God grant it," said Gotelind, "and may it come about, since we hear people speak of so much honor in her. Perhaps she can take our lady's place for us in our old age. We would gladly let her wear the crown among the Huns."
The margrave said: "My dearest, to the men who are to ride with me from here to the Rhine you must offer your goods with a loving hand. When heroes travel richly equipped, they are in high spirits."
She said: "There is not one of them who will gladly take from me whom I will not give whatever suits him, before you and your men leave this place." The margrave said: "That is a kindness to me."
Ah, what rich samite was carried out of her chambers! The noble warriors were given a generous share of it, and clothed in it with care from the neck to the spurs. Rüdiger had picked out the men who pleased him for this.
On the seventh morning the host rode out of Pöchlarn with his warriors. They took weapons and clothes in plenty through the land of Bavaria, and on the road they were seldom set upon by robbers. Within twelve days they reached the Rhine. There the news could not be kept hidden. The king and his men were told that foreign guests had come, and the host began to ask whether anyone knew them; if so, he should say. People saw their pack-horses carrying such heavy loads that it was plain they were very rich. Lodgings were found for them at once in the wide city.
When the strangers had settled in, the same lords were closely watched. People wondered where these warriors could have ridden to the Rhine from. The host sent for Hagen, in case he might know them.
The hero of Tronje said: "I have not seen them. But once we have a look at them, I can tell you for certain where they have ridden from into this land. They must be very foreign indeed if I do not know them soon."
The guests had now been given lodgings. The envoy had come in very rich clothes, and so had his companions in arms, and they rode to court wearing fine garments, cut with great skill. Quick Hagen said: "As far as I can judge — for I have not seen the lord for a long time — they ride exactly as if it were Rüdiger from the land of the Huns, that bold and noble warrior."
"How am I to believe," said the king at once, "that the lord of Pöchlarn has come into this land?" As King Gunther finished speaking, bold Hagen caught sight of good Rüdiger. He and his kinsmen all ran out, and five hundred knights were seen getting down from their horses. The men from the land of the Huns were well received; no messengers ever wore such splendid clothes.
Hagen of Tronje called out in a loud voice: "Now welcome, in God's name, to these warriors, the lord of Pöchlarn and all his men!" The quick Huns were received with full honor. The king's closest kinsmen went to where they stood, and Ortwin of Metz said to Rüdiger: "In all our days we have never seen guests here so gladly. I say that in all truth."
The warriors thanked them all around for their greeting. With their followers they went into the hall, where they found the king among many splendid men. The lord rose from his seat; that was done out of great courtesy. How courteously he went to meet the envoys! Gunther and Giselher received the guest and his men with great warmth, as was only proper. He took good Rüdiger by the hand and led him to the seat where he himself sat. The guests were served drink, and gladly: the very best mead, and the finest wine to be found anywhere in the land along the Rhine. Giselher and Gere had both come in, and Dankwart and Volker had heard about the guests too. They were in good spirits, and they greeted the fine, noble knights in the king's presence.
Hagen of Tronje said to his lord: "These warriors ought to repay forever what the margrave once did for our sake. Beautiful Gotelind's husband deserves a reward for it."
King Gunther said: "I cannot hold back the question. You must tell me how they both are, Etzel and Helche in the land of the Huns." The margrave said: "I will gladly tell you." He rose from his seat with all his men and said to the king: "If it may be so, and you give me leave, prince, then I will hold nothing back. I will gladly tell you the news I bring."
The king said: "Whatever news has been sent to us through you, I give you leave to tell it without taking counsel with my kinsmen. Let me and my men hear it, for I begrudge you no honor you may win here."
The worthy envoy said: "My great lord sends to you on the Rhine his loyal service, and to all the kinsmen you may have. This embassy is made in great loyalty. The noble king asks you to share his sorrow. His people are without joy. My lady is dead: mighty Helche, my lord's wife. By her death many a young lady has been orphaned, daughters of noble princes whom she had raised. The land is in a pitiful state because of it. There is no one now, alas, to care for them faithfully, and so I think the king's grief will be slow to settle."
"God reward him," said Gunther, "for sending his service so willingly to me and to my kinsmen. I have gladly heard his greeting here, and both my kinsmen and my men will gladly repay it."
Gernot, the warrior of Burgundy, said: "The world will always mourn beautiful Helche's death, for the many virtues she knew how to practice." Hagen agreed with what he said, and so did many another warrior.
Then Rüdiger, the noble, lordly envoy, spoke again: "Since you give me leave, king, I shall tell you more of what my dear lord has sent to say to you, for since Helche died his life has gone very hard. My lord has been told that Kriemhild is without a husband, that Lord Siegfried is dead. If that is how things stand, and if you will allow it, she is to wear a crown before Etzel's warriors. That is what my lord told me to say."
The mighty king said, and his manner was very courtly: "She shall hear my wish, if she is willing. I will let you know her answer within three days. Why should I refuse Etzel before I have learned her mind?"
Meanwhile the guests were made comfortable, and they were served so well that Rüdiger admitted he had friends among Gunther's men. Hagen served him gladly; Rüdiger had once done the same for him.
So Gunther let the matter rest until the third day. Then the king sent for counsel — he acted very wisely — to see whether his kinsmen thought it a good thing that Kriemhild should take King Etzel as her husband. All of them advised it together, all but Hagen. He said to Gunther the warrior: "If you have any sense, you will take good care that you never do it, even if she were willing to go along with you."
"Why," said Gunther, "should I not go along with it? Whatever happiness comes to the queen, I ought to be glad to grant her; she is my sister. We ought to be arranging it ourselves, if it can bring her honor."
Hagen said: "Drop this talk. If you knew Etzel as I know him, and if she is to love him, as I hear you say, then you will have reason to worry for the first time, and with good cause."
"Why?" said Gunther. "I will take very good care never to come so near him that I have to suffer any hatred from him, even if she were his wife." But Hagen said: "I will never advise it."
They sent for Gernot and for Giselher, to see whether the two lords thought it a good thing that Kriemhild should love the mighty, noble king. Hagen still argued against it, and no one else.
Giselher of Burgundy, the warrior, said: "Friend Hagen, you can still show some loyalty. Make up to her the wrongs you have done her. Whatever good comes to her, you ought to leave it unopposed. Truly, you have done my sister so many wrongs," bold Giselher went on, "that she would have every reason to be angry with you. No man ever robbed a woman of more joy."
Hagen answered: "I will tell you plainly what I know for certain: if she takes Etzel, and lives to see the day, she will still do us great harm, however she manages it. Truly, many a fine man will be in her service."
Bold Gernot answered Hagen: "It can stay that way until they are both dead — that we never ride into Etzel's land. Let us be loyal to her; that serves our honor."
Hagen said again: "No one can tell me otherwise. If noble Kriemhild is to wear Helche's crown, she will do us great harm yet, however she brings it about. You should let it be; that suits you warriors far better."
Giselher, beautiful Ute's son, said angrily: "We need not all act like traitors. Whatever honor comes to her, we ought to be glad of it. Whatever you say, Hagen, I will serve her, out of my loyalty."
When Hagen heard that, it put him in a dark mood. Gernot and Giselher, the proud, good knights, and mighty Gunther decided in the end that if Kriemhild consented, they would let it happen without any ill will.
Prince Gere said: "I will tell the lady that she should look kindly on King Etzel. So many warriors are his subjects and stand in great fear of him. He can well make up to her whatever wrong has been done her."
The quick warrior went to where he found Kriemhild. She received him kindly, and how quickly he spoke: "You may well greet me gladly and give me the messenger's reward. Good luck is about to part you from all your troubles, and very soon. For the sake of your love, lady, one of the very best men who ever won a king's land with full honor, or who ever ought to wear a crown, has sent here to us. Noble knights have come wooing; your brother told me to tell you so."
The grief-stricken woman said: "God forbid that you and all my kinsmen should mock a poor wretch like me. What could I be to any man who had ever known heartfelt love from a good wife?"
She argued hard against it. But then her brother Gernot came, and young Giselher, and they lovingly begged her to comfort her heart: if she took the king, it would truly be good for her. But no one could bring the woman round to loving any man at all. Then the warriors begged her: "If you do nothing else, at least let it be seen that you are willing to receive the envoy."
"That one thing I will not refuse," said the noble woman. "I would gladly see Rüdiger, for his many virtues. If it were not he who had been sent here, whoever else the envoy was, he would never have met me at all. Tomorrow," she said, "tell him to come here to my chamber. I will let him hear my wishes in full; I will tell him myself." And her great lamenting broke out all over again.
Noble Rüdiger wanted nothing more than to see the high-born queen. He knew himself to be so persuasive that, if it could ever be done at all, she would have to let the warrior talk her round.
Early the next morning, when Mass had been sung, the noble envoys came. There was a great crowd of those who wanted to go to court with Rüdiger, and many a splendid man was seen in full dress. High-born Kriemhild, very heavy at heart, waited for Rüdiger, the good and noble envoy. He found her in the clothes she wore every day, while her household around her wore rich clothes in plenty. She went to the door to meet him and received the noble man very kindly. He came in to her as one of twelve. He was shown great respect; no higher envoys had ever come to her.
The lord and his men were asked to sit. The two margraves, Eckewart and Gere, fine and noble warriors, were seen standing before her. Out of regard for the lady of the house, they saw no one there in good spirits. They saw many beautiful women seated before her, but Kriemhild herself knew nothing but grief. The dress over her breast was wet with hot tears, and the noble margrave saw it on Kriemhild plainly.
The lordly envoy said: "Most noble king's daughter, will you allow me and the companions who came here with me to stand before you and tell you the news we have ridden here to bring?"
"You have my leave," said the queen. "Whatever you wish to say, I am of a mind to hear it gladly. You are a good envoy." But the others could hear her unwilling heart plainly enough.
Lord Rüdiger of Pöchlarn said: "Etzel, a noble king, has sent you, lady, great love in all loyalty, here into this land. He has sent many good warriors here to woo for your love. He offers you with all his heart love without sorrow, and he is ready to give you the same lasting friendship he once gave Lady Helche, who lay close to his heart. Truly, since he lost her virtues he has had many a joyless day."
The queen said: "Margrave Rüdiger, if there were anyone who knew my bitter pain, he would not ask me to love any man. Truly, I lost one of the best husbands a woman ever had."
"What can make up for grief," said the very bold man, "but loving companionship? Whoever can bring that about, and then chooses the one who is rightly suited to him — nothing does so much good against heartfelt sorrow. And if you are willing to love my noble lord, you shall hold power over twelve mighty crowns. On top of that my lord will give you the lands of a full thirty princes, every one of which his brave hand has conquered. You shall also be lady over many worthy men who were subjects of my lady Helche, and over many ladies of high princely blood who were under her rule," said the bold, brave warrior. "And besides, my lord says to tell you that if you consent to wear the crown beside the king, he will give you the very highest power Helche ever held. You shall hold it with full authority over Etzel's men."
The queen said: "How could I ever again want to be a hero's wife? Death has done me such bitter wrong through one man that I must live without joy to the end of my days."
The Huns said: "Mighty queen, your life with Etzel will be so glorious that it will delight you forever, if it comes to pass, for the mighty king has many a splendid warrior. If Helche's young ladies and your maidens were to be one household together, warriors would take heart at the sight of them. Let yourself be persuaded, lady; it will truly be good for you."
She said, with all her courtesy: "Let the matter rest now until early tomorrow, when you are to come here again. Then I will give you my answer to what you have in mind." The bold, good warriors had to accept that.
When they had all gone back to their lodgings, the noble lady sent for Giselher and for her mother as well. She told them both that weeping was what became her, and nothing else.
Her brother Giselher said: "Sister, I have been told, and I am ready to believe it, that King Etzel would wipe away all your sorrows, if you take him as your husband. Whatever anyone else advises, I think it well done. He can well make up your loss to you," Giselher went on. "From the Rhône to the Rhine, from the Elbe down to the sea, there is no king so powerful. You may rejoice right away, if he makes you his wife."
She said: "My dearest brother, why do you advise me this? Mourning and weeping would always suit me better. How could I go to court before warriors? If I was ever beautiful, that is gone from me now."
Lady Ute said to her dear daughter: "Whatever your brothers advise, dear child, do it. Follow your kinsmen and good things may come to you. I have watched you in great grief for far too long."
Then Kriemhild prayed to God many times to grant her the means to have gold, silver and clothes to give, as she had once at her husband's side, when he was still alive and well. But she never again lived through so happy an hour.
She thought to herself: "If I give myself to a pagan — and I am a Christian woman — I will carry shame in the world forever. If he gave me every kingdom there is, I could never do it." And there she let it rest. All night until daybreak the lady lay in her bed deep in thought, and her bright eyes never dried, until in the morning she went to matins again.
Just at the hour of Mass the kings came, and again they took their sister in hand. Truly, they urged her to love the king of the land of the Huns, and not one of them found the lady anything but sad.
Then they sent for Etzel's men, who by now would gladly have taken their leave and gone, won or lost, however it turned out. Rüdiger came to court, and the heroes agreed among themselves that they should learn the noble prince's true mind, and learn it soon; that seemed the best course to all of them, for the road home to their own land was long. Rüdiger was brought to where he found Kriemhild.
The warrior began to beg the noble queen, very lovingly, to let him hear what message she wished to send to Etzel's land. I think he found nothing in her but refusal: she would never love any man again. The margrave said: "That would be a wrong. Why would you let such beauty waste away? You can still, with honor, become a good man's wife."
All their begging did no good, until Rüdiger spoke to the noble queen in private: he would make good to her whatever had ever happened to her. At that her great misery began, a little, to ease.
He said to the queen: "Let your weeping be. If you had no one among the Huns but me alone, and my loyal kinsmen, and my men, anyone who had ever done you any wrong would pay dearly for it."
That lightened the lady's heart a good deal. She said: "Then swear me an oath that whatever anyone does to me, you will be the first to right my wrongs." The margrave said: "Lady, I am ready to do that." Rüdiger swore to her then, with all his men, to serve her always in loyalty, and that the noble warriors from Etzel's land would never refuse her anything that could bring her honor. Rüdiger's hand gave her that pledge.
Then the loyal woman thought: "Now that I have won so many friends, I will let people say whatever they like about me, a woman full of grief. What if my dear husband's death might still be avenged?"
She thought: "Since Etzel has so many warriors, if I command them, I can do whatever I want. And he is so rich, too, that I will have something to give. Hateful Hagen has stripped me of everything I had."
She said to Rüdiger: "If I had heard that he was not a pagan, I would gladly go wherever he wished, and take him as my husband." The margrave said: "Let that thought go, lady. He has so many warriors of the Christian faith that you will never be unhappy at the king's side. And what if you managed to bring him to be baptized? For that alone you might gladly become King Etzel's wife."
Her brothers said again: "Now promise it, sister. You must let your unhappiness go." They begged her for so long that at last, sad as she was, she promised before the heroes that she would be Etzel's wife. She said: "I will do as you say — poor queen that I am — and go to the Huns as soon as it can be managed, once I have the kinsmen who will take me to his land." And beautiful Kriemhild gave her hand on it before the heroes.
The margrave said: "If you have two men, I have more than that. It will be done well: we will bring you across the Rhine with full honor. You are not to stay here in Burgundy any longer, lady. I have five hundred men, and my kinsmen besides. They shall serve you here, and at home too, lady, whatever you command, and I will do the same myself; whenever you remind me of this promise, I will never be ashamed of it. Now have your riding gear made ready — Rüdiger's advice will never bring you sorrow — and tell the maidens you mean to take with you. Truly, many a chosen hero will come to meet us on the road."
She still had the harness they had ridden with before, in Siegfried's time, so that she could take many a maiden along with honor whenever she wanted to leave. Ah, what good saddles they found for the beautiful women! If they had ever worn rich clothes before, many more were made ready now for their journey, for they had been told so much about the king. They unlocked the chests that had stood well locked until then. For a full four and a half days they were hard at work, bringing out of the presses all that lay inside. Then Kriemhild began to open up her whole treasury: she wanted to make all of Rüdiger's men rich.
She still had gold from the Nibelung land, and she meant to share it out among the Huns with her own hand — so much that a hundred horses could not have carried it all. Hagen heard the news of what Kriemhild was doing. He said: "Since Kriemhild will never be my friend, Siegfried's gold must stay here too. Why should I leave my enemies such great wealth? I know very well what Kriemhild would do with this treasure. If she took it away from here, I am convinced it would be handed out to buy hatred against me. Besides, they have no horses that could carry it. Hagen means to keep it; tell Kriemhild that."
When she heard this news, it was a bitter wrong to her. All three kings were told of it too, and they would gladly have changed it, but when that did not happen, noble Rüdiger spoke very cheerfully: "Mighty queen, why do you grieve over the gold? King Etzel loves you so much that once his eyes have seen you, he will give you more than you could ever spend. That I will swear to you, lady."
The queen said: "Most noble Rüdiger, no king's daughter ever had greater wealth than what Hagen has stripped from me." Then her brother Gernot went to her chamber. With the king's authority he thrust the key into the door, and Kriemhild's gold was handed out: thirty thousand marks' worth, or more. He told the guests to take it, and Gunther was glad of that.
Gotelind's husband, the lord of Pöchlarn, said: "If my lady Kriemhild had all of it, every bit that was ever carried out of the Nibelung land, little of it would ever touch my hand or the queen's. Have them keep it, for I want none of it. Truly, I brought so much of my own from home that we will do very well on the road, and our provision for the journey is in splendid order."
Before this, in all that time, her maidens had filled twelve chests with the very best gold to be found anywhere. That they took with them, and many of the women's ornaments that they were to have on the journey. The power of grim Hagen seemed to her too great. She still had a thousand marks of her gold for offerings, and she gave it out for the soul of her dear husband. Rüdiger thought that done in great loyalty.
The grieving lady said: "Where are my friends, those who are willing to go into exile for my sake? Those who will ride with me into the land of the Huns, let them take my treasure and buy horses and clothes."
Margrave Eckewart said to the queen: "From the first day I became one of your household I have served you loyally," said the warrior, "and I will go on doing the same for you to the end of my days. I will take five hundred of my own men with me too, and give them to your service in true loyalty. Nothing will ever part us, unless death does it." Kriemhild bowed to him for those words; truly, she had need of them.
Then the horses were led out, for they wanted to set off. There was great weeping among her kinsmen. Mighty Ute and many a beautiful girl showed how much Lady Kriemhild's going grieved them. She took a hundred high-born maidens with her, dressed as well as suited them. The tears fell from their bright eyes. But later they also lived to see much joy with Etzel.
Then Lord Giselher came, and Gernot too, with their followers, as their good breeding demanded. They wanted to escort their dear sister on her way, and they brought a full thousand fine warriors of their own. Quick Gere came, and Ortwin, and Rumold, master of the kitchen, had to be there too. They arranged night quarters all the way to the Danube. Gunther himself rode no farther than a little way out of the city.
Before they left the Rhine they had sent their messengers ahead, riding fast, into the land of the Huns, to tell the king that Rüdiger had won the noble, high-born queen to be his wife.
Let the messengers ride. Now we will tell you how the queen traveled through the lands, and where Giselher and Gernot parted from her. They had served her as their loyalty required. They rode with her as far as Pföring on the Danube, and there they began to ask the queen's leave, for they meant to ride back to the Rhine. Good kinsmen could not part like that without tears.
Swift Giselher said to his sister: "Whenever you have need of me, my lady, if anything troubles you, send me word, and I will ride into Etzel's land to serve you."
She kissed those who were her kinsmen on the mouth. Then you could see the margrave's men, Rüdiger's men, taking a loving leave of them. The queen had many lovely girls with her, a hundred and four of them, wearing costly dresses of rich patterned silk, and many broad shields were carried close beside the ladies on the road. Then many a splendid warrior turned back from her and rode home.
They moved on quickly, down through Bavaria. Then the news was told that a great many unknown strangers had hurried on ahead, to the place where a monastery still stands today, where the Inn flows into the Danube. In the city of Passau there lived a bishop. The lodgings emptied, and the prince's court as well, as everyone hurried up into Bavaria to meet them, to the place where Bishop Pilgrim found beautiful Kriemhild. The warriors of that country were not at all sorry to see so many lovely girls riding in her train; their eyes courted the daughters of the noble knights. Afterwards good lodgings were given to the guests.
The bishop rode to Passau with his niece. When the townspeople were told that Kriemhild was coming, their prince's sister's child, the merchants gave her a fine welcome. The bishop had hoped they would stay, but Lord Eckewart said: "That cannot be. We must travel on down into Rüdiger's land. Many warriors are waiting for us there, for they all know very well that we are coming."
Beautiful Gotelind knew the news by now. She made herself ready with great care, and her noble daughter too. Rüdiger had sent her word that he thought it right for her to comfort the queen's spirits by riding out to meet her with his men, up to the Enns. When that word was given, the roads were busy on every side: people set out to meet the guests on horseback and on foot. By now the queen had come to Eferding. There were plenty of men in Bavaria who, as was their habit, might have robbed travelers on the road, and they could easily have done the guests harm. The noble margrave had seen to it that this did not happen: he led a thousand knights and more. Gotelind, Rüdiger's wife, had come as well, and with her came many a noble warrior in splendid style.
When they had crossed the Traun, onto the field by the Enns, they saw huts and tents set up, where the guests were to spend the night. Rüdiger paid for all of it. Beautiful Gotelind left her lodgings behind her and went along the roads, and many a fine palfrey went with her, its bridle jingling. The welcome was a fine one, and it pleased Rüdiger greatly. The warriors who came along the roads from both sides rode so that you had to praise them, and there were many of them. They practiced their knightly games, which many a girl watched, and the knights' service did not displease the queen either. When Rüdiger's men reached the guests, you could see splinters of lances flying up into the air from the warriors' hands, as knights do, and they rode before the ladies as if a prize hung on it.
Then they let that be, and many men greeted one another very warmly. Then they escorted beautiful Gotelind to where she could see Kriemhild. The men who knew how to serve ladies had little rest. The lord of Pöchlarn rode to his wife. The noble margravine was not sorry that he had come home from the Rhine safe and sound; a good part of her worry gave way to great joy. When she had welcomed him, he told her to dismount on the grass with all the ladies who were with her. Many a noble man was kept busy then, serving the ladies with the greatest care.
Then Lady Kriemhild saw the margravine standing there with her household. She would let her horse go no nearer, but pulled the palfrey up by the bridle and asked to be lifted down from the saddle at once. You could see the bishop leading his sister's child, he and Eckewart together, to Gotelind. Everyone drew back at once. Then the exiled queen kissed Gotelind on the mouth. Rüdiger's wife spoke with great tenderness: "How happy I am, dear lady, that I have seen your lovely self in these lands with my own eyes. Nothing dearer could have happened to me in all this time."
"God reward you, noble Gotelind," said Kriemhild. "If I keep my health, and Botelung's son keeps his, it may yet bring you joy that you have seen me." Neither of them knew what was bound to happen later.
Many girls went up to one another with perfect manners, and the warriors were eager to serve them. After the greetings they sat down on the clover, and they made many acquaintances that had been strangers to them before. The ladies were served wine; it was already midday. The noble company did not linger there any longer but rode on to where they found the many broad tents, and there plenty of service waited for the noble guests.
That night they rested until early morning, and the people of Pöchlarn made ready to lodge so many foreign guests. Rüdiger had arranged it so well that they lacked for very little. The windows in the walls stood open; the castle at Pöchlarn was thrown wide. In rode the guests, a welcome sight, and the noble host had good comfort prepared for them. Rüdiger's daughter went with her household to greet the queen with great affection, and her mother the margrave's wife was there too. Many a young lady was greeted with love. They took one another by the hand and went into a wide hall, very finely built, with the Danube flowing beneath it. They sat facing the breeze and passed the time very happily.
What more they did there I cannot tell you. But Kriemhild's warriors were heard complaining that the journey was going so slowly, for it grieved them. And what good warriors rode with her from Pöchlarn! Rüdiger offered them loving service, and the queen gave Gotelind's daughter twelve red arm-rings, and clothes as good as any she had brought into this land. The Nibelung gold had been taken from her, but even with the little she still had, she won the heart of everyone who saw her. The host's household received great gifts. In return Lady Gotelind showed the guests from the Rhine such honor, and so kindly, that very few of the strangers could be found who were not wearing her jewels or her splendid clothes.
When they had eaten and were ready to leave, the lady of the house offered Etzel's wife her loyal service, and the young lady, her daughter, was hugged and kissed a great deal. The girl said to the queen: "Whenever you think it right, I know my dear father will gladly send me to you in the land of the Huns." Kriemhild saw very well how loyal the girl was to her.
The horses were saddled and brought before Pöchlarn, and the noble queen took her leave of Rüdiger's wife and his daughter. Many a lovely girl parted from them with a greeting too. They very seldom saw one another after those days. From Melk people came out carrying in their hands many rich golden cups filled with wine, to welcome the guests on the road. A lord lived there named Astolt, and he showed them the road into Austria, down the Danube toward Mautern. There the queen was served very well later on.
The bishop parted lovingly from his niece. How earnestly he urged her to conduct herself well, and to win honor for herself as Helche had done! And what great honor she won later among the Huns! They brought the guests on to the Traisen, and Rüdiger's men cared for them attentively until the Huns came riding across the country. Then great honor was shown to the queen. Near the Traisen the king of the Huns had a mighty castle, famous far and wide, called Traismauer. Lady Helche had lived there before, and had shown such great goodness that it will surely never happen again, unless it is through Kriemhild, who also knew how to give. After all her sorrow she could well enjoy the joy of it: that Etzel's men honored her too, and in time she won that honor in full measure among the heroes.
Etzel's power was so widely known that at all times you could find at his court the boldest warriors ever heard of, among Christians and among pagans alike, and they had all come there with him. At all times there were both at his court, which will surely never be seen again: Christian ways and also the pagan faith. Whatever kind of life each man led, the king's generosity saw to it that they were all given enough.
She stayed at Traismauer until the fourth day. All that while the dust on the road never settled; it rose on every side as if the land were burning, as King Etzel's men came riding through Austria. By now the king too had been told exactly how splendidly Kriemhild was coming through the lands, and at the thought of it his sorrows melted out of his mind. The king hurried to where he would find the beautiful woman.
On the roads ahead of Etzel rode many bold warriors of many tongues, Christians and pagans, troop after wide troop, and when they found the lady they came up to her in splendor. Many a man rode there from Russia and from Greece. Poles and Wallachians were seen going at speed on their fine horses, riding hard, and whatever the customs of their lands, they left very little of them out. From the land of Kiev rode many a warrior, and the wild Pechenegs, who were busy shooting with their bows at the birds that flew overhead; they drew their arrows back hard, right to the bow's edge.
By the Danube, in the Austrian land, lies a town called Tulln. There she came to know many a foreign custom she had never seen before. Many who received her there would later come to grief through her.
In front of King Etzel rode a retinue, glad and very rich, courtly and merry: a good twenty-four princes, noble and lordly. They wanted nothing more than to see their lady. Duke Ramung from Wallachia came galloping up before her with seven hundred men; they were seen moving like birds in flight. Then came Prince Gibeche with splendid troops. Hornboge the swift, with a full thousand men, turned away from the king and toward his lady. There was loud shouting, after the custom of that land, and the kinsmen of the Huns rode wildly there too.
Then came bold Hawart of Denmark and swift Iring, a man with no treachery in him, and Irnfried of Thuringia, a handsome man. They received Kriemhild in a way that did her honor, with twelve hundred men they led in their troop. Then came Lord Blödel, Etzel's brother from the land of the Huns, with three thousand; in great splendor he came to where he found the queen. Then came King Etzel, and Lord Dietrich too with all his companions. There was many a noble knight there, worthy and good, and all of it lifted Lady Kriemhild's spirits high.
Then Lord Rüdiger said to the queen: "My lady, here I will receive the noble king. Whomever I tell you to kiss, you must kiss. Truly, you cannot greet all of Etzel's men alike."
Then they lifted the noble queen down from her palfrey. Mighty Etzel waited no longer; he got down from his horse with many a bold man, and he was seen going joyfully toward Kriemhild. Two mighty princes, as we are told, walked beside the lady and carried her train as King Etzel came up to meet her, and she received the noble prince graciously with a kiss. She pushed back her headdress, and her lovely color shone out of the gold. Many a man there said that Lady Helche could not have been more beautiful. Close by stood the king's brother Blödel. Rüdiger, the mighty margrave, told her to kiss him, and King Gibeche too; Dietrich stood there as well. Etzel's wife kissed twelve of the warriors, and many another knight she received with a greeting.
All the while Etzel stood beside Kriemhild, the young men did what people still do today: many a splendid charge with lances was ridden there, by Christian heroes and by pagans too, each after their own custom. How truly knightly it was, the way Dietrich's men sent their lance-shafts flying in splinters high over the shields from good knights' hands! The German guests pierced many a shield's rim. A great din of breaking shafts was heard. By now all the warriors of the land had come, and the king's guests too, many a noble man. Then the mighty king went off with Lady Kriemhild.
They saw a magnificent tent standing near them, and all around it the field was filled with pavilions where they were to rest after their hardships. Many a beautiful girl was led by the heroes to her place under it, where they sat with the queen on richly cushioned seats. The margrave had arranged it so well that everyone found it very fine, and Kriemhild's seat gladdened Etzel's heart. What Etzel said then, I cannot tell you. Her white hand lay in his right hand, and they sat together lovingly, for Rüdiger the warrior would not let the king be alone with Kriemhild in private.
Then the buhurt was called off everywhere, and the great noise ended with honor. Etzel's men went to the pavilions, and lodgings were given them far and wide on every side. The day was now at its end. They took their ease until the bright morning was seen shining again, and then many a man had come to the horses. Oh, what entertainments were begun in the king's honor! The king asked the Huns to arrange everything with due honor. Then they rode from Tulln to the city of Vienna, where they found many a lady adorned, and they received King Etzel's wife with every honor. Everything they needed was prepared for them in great abundance. Many a glad hero rejoiced at the celebration; they began to find lodgings, and the king's wedding feast began joyfully.
They could not all be lodged in the city, so Rüdiger asked those who were not guests to take lodgings out in the country. I think that at every hour you could find at Kriemhild's side Lord Dietrich and many another warrior. They had given up rest and taken on labor to keep the guests in good spirits, and Lord Rüdiger and his friends had fine entertainment. The wedding fell on a Whitsunday, when King Etzel lay beside Kriemhild in the city of Vienna. I think she had never, with her first husband, gained so many men for her service. With gifts she made herself known to men who had never seen her before, and many among them said to the guests: "We thought Lady Kriemhild had no wealth at all; now she has done wonders here with her gifts."
The wedding feast lasted seventeen days. I think no one tells of any king whose wedding was greater; if there was one, it has been kept from us. Everyone who was there wore brand-new clothes. In the Netherlands, I think, she had never before sat among so many warriors; and I believe this too: however rich in wealth Siegfried was, he never gained so many noble warriors as she saw standing before Etzel. Nor did anyone ever give at his own wedding so many rich mantles, long and wide, or such good clothes, of which there was plenty to be had, as they all gave now for Kriemhild's sake. Her kinsmen and the guests too were of one mind: they would spare no kind of goods. Whatever anyone asked of them they gave at once, so that many warriors stood there stripped of their clothes out of sheer generosity.
She thought of how she had sat by the Rhine beside her noble husband, and her eyes grew wet; she hid it hard, so that no one could see. After so much sorrow, so much honor had come to her.
Whatever anyone else did in generosity was nothing but wind beside Dietrich: whatever Etzel, Botelung's son, had given him was now spent away entirely. The hand of generous Rüdiger worked great wonders there too. Prince Blödel from Hungary had many traveling chests emptied of their silver and gold, and all of it was given away. The king's heroes were seen living in high delight. Werbel and Swemmel, the king's minstrels, each of them won at the wedding, I think, a good thousand marks or better still, where beautiful Kriemhild sat crowned beside Etzel.
On the eighteenth morning they rode out of Vienna. Many shields were cut to pieces in knightly sport by the spears the warriors carried in their hands. So King Etzel came all the way into the land of the Huns. At old Hainburg they stayed the night. No one could tell the number of the people, or with what strength they rode across the land. Oh, what beautiful women they found in his homeland! At mighty Wieselburg they went aboard ships. The water was covered with horses and men as if it were solid ground, wherever you saw it flowing. The travel-weary ladies had rest and comfort. Many a good ship was lashed together, so that neither the waves nor the current could harm them, and over them many a good tent was spread, as if they still had both land and field beneath them.
Then the news came from there to Etzel's castle, and inside it women and men rejoiced. Etzel's household, which the lady Helche had looked after before, lived many a happy day afterward with Kriemhild. Many a noble girl stood waiting there who had suffered great grief from Helche's death. Kriemhild still found seven kings' daughters there, and all Etzel's land was adorned by them. The young lady Herrat still looked after the household — Helche's sister's daughter, full of virtues, Dietrich's betrothed, the child of a noble king, Nentwin's daughter; much honor came to her later. Her heart rejoiced at the coming of the guests, and great wealth had been made ready for it too. Who could tell you how the king held court afterward? Never did people live better among the Huns with any queen.
When the king rode up from the shore with his wife, each lady was named to noble Kriemhild, and she greeted them all the better for it. Oh, how mightily she sat later in Helche's place! Much loyal service was shown to her. Then the queen dealt out gold and clothing, silver and jewels; whatever she had brought with her over the Rhine to the Huns had to be given away entirely. All the king's kinsmen and all his vassals later became subject to her service, so that Lady Helche had never held such power as the woman they now served — and would serve until Kriemhild's death.
The court and the land stood in such honor that at all times one found there whatever amusement each heart desired, through the king's love and the goodness of the queen.
They lived together in great honor, it is the plain truth, until the seventh year. In that time the queen gave birth to a son, and nothing could have made King Etzel happier. She would not rest until she had brought it about that Etzel's child was baptized according to Christian rite. He was named Ortlieb, and there was great rejoicing over all of Etzel's lands.
Whatever good qualities Lady Helche had possessed, Lady Kriemhild now worked hard for many a day to match them. Herrat, the exiled maiden, taught her the customs of the court; in secret, Herrat still grieved deeply for Helche. Strangers and household alike knew Kriemhild well. They said that no lady had ever ruled a king's land better or more generously, and they held that to be the truth. She carried that praise among the Huns until the thirteenth year.
By now she had learned that no one ever crossed her, as a king's warriors still do for a prince's wife, and that at every hour she saw twelve kings standing before her. And she thought of the many wrongs that had been done her at home. She thought too of the many honors in the Nibelung land that had once been hers to command, and that Hagen's hand had stripped from her entirely with Siegfried's death, and whether that could ever still be made to cost him sorrow at her hands. "It would, if I could only bring him into this land." She dreamed that her brother Giselher walked often hand in hand with her, and that they kissed each other again and again in gentle sleep. Later they both came to know hardship.
I believe it was the evil devil himself who counseled Kriemhild to break the friendship she had made with Giselher, the brother she had kissed in Burgundy as a sign of peace. Then her dress began to be stained once more with hot tears. It lay on her heart early and late: how, through no fault of her own, she had been brought to the point of having to love a pagan man. Hagen and Gunther had forced that misery on her.
She rarely let that wish go from her heart. She thought: "I am so powerful, and I have such great wealth, that I can still do my enemies a wrong. For Hagen of Tronje I would be ready and willing. My heart aches so often for my loyal kin. If I could be near the ones who did me wrong, then my husband's death would be well avenged. I can hardly wait for it," said Etzel's wife.
All the king's men, Kriemhild's warriors, held her dear, and that was only right. Eckewart had charge of her treasury, and it won him friends. No one could stand in the way of what Kriemhild wanted. All the time she was thinking: "I will ask the king." She would ask him, in the kindest way, to let her kinsmen be brought into the land of the Huns. No one detected the evil purpose in the queen.
One night, as she lay beside the king and he held her in his arms, as he always did when he caressed the noble lady — she was as dear to him as his own life — that glorious woman thought of her enemies. She said to the king: "My dearest lord, I would like to ask you something, if it may be done with your good will: that you let me see whether I have earned it, and whether you are truly fond of my kinsmen."
The mighty king answered, and his heart was loyal: "I will make that plain to you. Whatever good fortune comes to those warriors, in their lives or their goods, I must take joy in it, for a woman's love never brought me better kin."
The queen said: "You have been told, I am sure, that I have very high-born kinsmen. That is why it grieves me so that they so seldom care to see me here. I hear the people call me nothing but an exile."
King Etzel said: "My dearest lady, if it did not seem too far to them, I would invite across the Rhine whoever you would like to see here in my lands." The lady rejoiced when she learned his will.
She said: "If you will keep faith with me, my lord, then send messengers to Worms across the Rhine. I will let my kinsmen know what I have in mind, and then many a good and noble knight will come here to our land."
He said: "Whenever you command it, let it be done. You could not be gladder to see your kinsmen than I would be to see noble Ute's children. It troubles me deeply that they have been strangers to us so long. If it pleases you, my dearest lady, I will gladly send my fiddlers to Burgundy for your kinsmen." He had the good fiddlers sent for at once.
They hurried to where the king sat beside the queen. He told the two of them that they were to be his messengers to Burgundy, and he had splendid clothes made ready for them. Clothing was prepared for twenty-four warriors, and the king gave them their message too: how they were to invite Gunther and his men. Lady Kriemhild would speak with them separately.
The mighty king said: "I will tell you what to do. I send my kinsmen my love and every good wish, and ask that they be so kind as to ride here into my land. I have known very few guests I would be so glad of. And if Kriemhild's kinsmen wish to do anything at all for my sake, let them not fail to come to my festival this summer, for so much of my joy depends on my wife's kinsmen."
Then Swemmel, the proud fiddler, asked: "When is your festival to be held in these lands, so that we can tell your kinsmen over there?"
King Etzel said: "At next midsummer."
"We will do whatever you command," said Werbel. The queen asked that the messengers be brought to her chamber in secret, and there she spoke with them. Many a warrior later saw little joy from it.
She said to the two messengers: "Now earn yourselves great wealth, by doing what I want faithfully and well, and by saying what I send home to our land. I will make you rich, and I will give you splendid clothes. And whichever of my kinsmen you may see at Worms on the Rhine, you must never tell them that you ever saw me troubled in spirit. And carry my service to those bold and good heroes.
"Ask them to do what Rüdiger asked of them, and so set me free from all my distress. The Huns think I have no kinsmen at all. If I were a knight, I would go to them myself now and then. And tell Gernot too, my noble brother, that no one in the world could be fonder of him than I am. Ask him to bring our best kinsmen with him into this land, so that it brings us honor. And tell Giselher to remember well that I never suffered any wrong through any fault of his. My eyes would be so glad to see him here. I would love to have him here, for his great loyalty.
"Tell my mother too of the honor I enjoy. And if Hagen of Tronje means to stay behind over there, who is to guide them through the lands? He has known the roads here to the Huns since he was a child."
The messengers had no idea why they were being told not to let Hagen of Tronje stay behind on the Rhine. Later it brought them sorrow. Along with him, many a warrior was marked for a grim death. Letters and messages were now given to them. They set off rich in goods, and they could live in style. Etzel gave them leave to go, and so did his beautiful wife, and they were handsomely dressed in fine clothes.
When Etzel sent his envoys to the Rhine, the news flew from land to land. By messengers riding hard he asked, and commanded too, that people come to his festival. Many a man found his death there.
The envoys rode out of the land of the Huns toward Burgundy. They had been sent for three noble kings and for their men, who were to come to Etzel; and so they made haste.
They came riding to Pöchlarn, where people were glad to serve them; nothing was left undone. Rüdiger and Gotelind sent their service with them to the Rhine, and so did the dear child the two of them shared. Nor did they let the envoys leave without gifts, so that Etzel's men would travel the better for it. To Ute and her children Rüdiger sent word that there was no margrave anywhere who wished them better than he did. To Brunhild too they sent their service and good wishes, unfailing loyalty and a willing heart. When the envoys had heard these messages and were ready to ride, the margravine asked God in heaven to keep them safe.
Before the envoys had come all the way through Bavaria, quick Werbel sought out the good bishop. What word he sent to his kinsmen on the Rhine I do not know; only that he gave the envoys his red gold as a token of friendship, and let them ride on. Then Bishop Pilgrim said: "If I could see them here, my sister's sons, it would do my heart good, for I can very seldom get to them on the Rhine."
Which roads they took through the lands to the Rhine I cannot tell you. No one robbed them of their silver or their clothes: people feared their master's anger. Truly, that noble, high-born king was a powerful man.
Within twelve days Werbel and Swemmel came to the Rhine, to Worms and its country. The news was told to the kings and their men that strange messengers had arrived, and Gunther began asking about them. The lord of the Rhine said: "Who can tell us where these strangers riding into our land have come from?" No one knew, until Hagen of Tronje saw them. Then he said to Gunther: "There is fresh news for us, I promise you that. I have just seen Etzel's fiddlers here. Your sister has sent them to the Rhine, and for their master's sake we must make them very welcome."
They were already riding up in front of the great hall. No prince's minstrels ever traveled in finer style. The king's household received them at once; they were given good lodgings and their baggage was taken into keeping. Their traveling clothes were rich and so well made that they could have gone before the king in them with honor. But they did not want to wear them any longer at court, and the envoys asked whether anyone there might care to have them. Sure enough, people were found who were glad to take the clothes, and the clothes were sent to them. Then the guests put on far better garments, the kind it is fitting for a king's envoys to wear in state.
Then, with leave, Etzel's men went to where the king was sitting, and people were glad to see it. Hagen sprang up courteously to meet the envoys and greeted them warmly, and the squires thanked him for it. Wanting to hear what news they brought, he began asking how Etzel was faring, and his men. The fiddler said: "The land never stood better, nor the people so happy. You may be sure of that."
They went in to the host. The great hall was full. There the guests were received as is right and proper when such friendly greetings are sent into another king's land. Werbel found a great many warriors there at Gunther's side. The king greeted them courteously: "Welcome, both of you, you fiddlers of the Huns, and your companions with you. Has mighty Etzel sent you here to the land of the Burgundians?"
They bowed to the king. Then Werbel said: "My dear lord sends you his devoted service into this land, and so does Kriemhild, your sister. They have sent us to you warriors in good faith."
The mighty king said: "I am glad of this news. How is Etzel? And Kriemhild, my sister, in the land of the Huns?"
The fiddler said: "I will tell you the news. No people ever fared better than the two of them are faring now, you may be sure of that, and all their household with them, their kinsmen and their men. They were delighted with our journey when we left them."
The king said: "My thanks for his service, which he has sent me, and for my sister's, since it stands as you say, that the king and his men live in happiness. For I asked the news with a worried heart."
The two young kings had now arrived too; they had only just heard the news. For love of his sister, young Giselher was glad to see the envoys, and he spoke to them warmly: "Envoys, you would be very welcome to us if you cared to ride to the Rhine more often. You would find friends here you would be glad to see. Very little harm would come to you in this land."
"We trust you to do us every honor," said Swemmel. "I could not make you understand, with all the wit I have, how lovingly Etzel sends his greetings, and your noble sister too, whose affairs stand in high honor. The king's wife reminds you of your love and your loyalty, and that your heart and your whole self were always devoted to her. But first and foremost we are sent to the king, to ask you to be so good as to ride into Etzel's land. Mighty Etzel ordered us most strictly to beg this of you, and he sends this message to you all: if you will not let your sister see you, then he would at least like to know what he has done to you, that you stay so distant from him and his lands. Even if the queen had never been known to you, he would still like to earn the favor of your coming to see him. If that should happen, it would make him very glad."
King Gunther said: "In seven days' time I will tell you what I have decided with my kinsmen. Meanwhile, go to your lodgings and take a good rest."
Werbel spoke again: "Might it be possible for us to see my lady first, the mighty Ute, before we settle in to rest?" Noble Giselher answered very courteously: "No one shall stop you. If you want to go to her, you will be doing exactly what my mother wishes. She will be glad to see you, for the sake of my sister Lady Kriemhild. You will be welcome to her."
Giselher brought them to where he found the lady. She was pleased to see the envoys from the land of the Huns, and in her kindness she greeted them warmly. Then the good and courtly envoys told her their news. "My lady sends you her service and her loyalty, truly," said Swemmel. "If it could be that she saw you often, believe me, there would be nothing in the world that could make her happier."
The queen said: "That cannot be. However much I would like to see my dear daughter often, the noble king's wife lives too far from me, to my sorrow. May she and Etzel be blessed forever. Let me know, before you leave here, when you want to go back. I have not been so glad to see messengers in a long time as I am to see you." The squires promised her that they would.
The men from the land of the Huns rode to their lodgings. Meanwhile the mighty king had sent for his kinsmen. Noble Gunther asked his men how they liked the proposal, and many began to say that he could well ride to Etzel's land. The best men he had there advised him so — all but Hagen alone, and he was grimly against it. He said to the king in private: "You are declaring war on yourself. You know very well what we have done. We will always have reason to fear Kriemhild, for I killed her husband with my own hand. How could we dare ride into Etzel's land?"
The mighty king said: "My sister gave up her anger. She kissed us lovingly and forgave us for everything we ever did to her, before she rode away from here — unless, Hagen, the quarrel is with you alone."
"Whatever the envoys from the Huns tell you, do not let them fool you," said Hagen. "If you want to see Kriemhild, you could well lose your honor there, and your lives too. King Etzel's wife has a very long memory for a wrong."
Then Prince Gernot said to the council: "Just because you have good reason to fear death in the Hunnish kingdoms, should we give up seeing our sister on that account? That would be very wrong of us."
Prince Giselher said to the warrior: "Since you know you are guilty, friend Hagen, you should stay here and look after yourself, and let those who dare come with us to my sister."
At that the warrior of Tronje grew angry. "I do not want you taking anyone on this road who would dare to ride to that court more boldly than I. Since you will not give it up, I will show you that plainly enough."
Then Rumold the warrior, the master of the kitchen, spoke: "You could have strangers and friends looked after here just as you please, for you have plenty of everything. As far as I know, you are not Hagen's hostage yet. If you will not take Hagen's advice, then take Rumold's, for I am your loyal and devoted servant: stay here, for my sake, and leave King Etzel over there with Kriemhild.
"How could you ever be more comfortable anywhere in the world? Here you are perfectly safe from your enemies. Dress yourselves in fine clothes, drink the best wine, and make love to lovely women. And besides, you are served the finest food any king in the world ever had. And even if that were not so, you ought to stay for your beautiful wife's sake, before you go risking your life like a child. So I advise you to stay. Your lands are rich; a man can redeem his pledges better here at home than over there among the Huns, where who knows how things stand. Stay at home, my lords. That is Rumold's advice."
"We will not stay," said Gernot, "since my sister and mighty Etzel have invited us so lovingly. Why should we refuse? Anyone who does not want to go can stay at home."
Hagen answered: "Do not take my words amiss, whatever comes of it. I advise you on my loyalty: if you want to stay alive, ride to the Huns well armed. Since you will not give it up, send for your men, the best you can find or can get anywhere, and from among them all I will choose a thousand good knights. Then Kriemhild's malice can do you no harm."
"I will gladly follow that," the king said at once, and he sent messengers riding far and wide through his lands. They brought in three thousand heroes or more. Those men never dreamed they were riding to earn such terrible sorrow.
They rode cheerfully into Gunther's land. Everyone who was to ride out of Burgundy was given horses and clothes, and the king won the goodwill of a great many men. Then Hagen of Tronje had his brother Dankwart bring eighty of their own warriors to the Rhine. They came like knights; those quick men brought armor and clothing with them into Gunther's land. Then bold Volker came, a noble minstrel, with thirty of his men for the journey to court. They wore clothes a king could have worn. He sent word to Gunther that he meant to go to the Huns.
I will tell you who this Volker was. He was a noble lord, and many good warriors in Burgundy were his vassals. Because he could play the fiddle, he was called the minstrel. Hagen chose a thousand men he knew well. He had seen for himself what their hands had done in hard fighting, and everything else they had ever done. No one could say anything of them but that they were brave.
Kriemhild's envoys were growing very weary of the delay, for they were in great fear of their master. Every day they asked for leave to go, and Hagen would not grant it. That was done on purpose. He said to his lord: "We must take care not to let them ride away until we ourselves are ready to set out for Etzel's land seven days after them. If anyone means us harm, we will know it that much sooner. And then Lady Kriemhild will have no time to arrange for anyone to harm us on her advice. But if that is her plan, it may turn out badly for her, for we are taking so many chosen men with us from here."
Shields and saddles and all the clothes they wanted to take into Etzel's land were now fully ready for many a bold man. Then Kriemhild's envoys were told to come before Gunther. When the envoys came in, Gernot said: "The king will do as Etzel has asked us. We will gladly come to his festival and see our sister. You need have no doubt of that."
King Gunther said: "Can you tell us when the festival is to be, and on what days we should arrive?"
Swemmel said: "At next midsummer, that is the truth."
The king gave them leave — something that had not happened before now — to go before Lady Brunhild with his blessing, if they wanted to see her. Volker stepped in to prevent it, and that was done out of kindness to her. "My lady Brunhild is not in such good spirits just now that you could see her," the good knight said. "Wait until tomorrow, and then they will let you see her." But when they thought they would see her, it could not be managed.
Then the mighty prince, who was fond of the envoys, had his gold carried out on the broad shields, out of his own generosity; he had plenty of it. His kinsmen gave them rich gifts as well. Giselher and Gernot, Gere and Ortwin showed plainly that they too were open-handed. They offered the envoys gifts so rich that, for fear of their master, they did not dare accept them.
Then the envoy Werbel said to the king: "Sir King, let your gifts stay here in your own land. We cannot carry them away. My lord forbade us to accept any gifts at all; and besides, we have very little need of them."
The lord of the Rhine was much put out that they wanted to refuse the goods of so mighty a king. In the end they had to accept his gold and his clothes, and they took them home to Etzel's land.
They wanted to see Ute before they left, so quick Giselher brought the minstrels before his mother Ute. The lady sent this message: whatever honors her daughter enjoyed, that was a joy to her. Then the queen had her embroidered braid and her gold given to these same minstrels for Kriemhild's sake, because she loved her, and for King Etzel's. They could gladly accept it: it was given in loyalty.
Now the envoys had taken their leave of the women and the men there, and they rode away happily into Swabia. Gernot had his heroes escort them that far, so that no one would do them harm. When the men who were charged with their care had parted from them, Etzel's power kept the peace for them on every road. No one took horse or clothing from them, and they hurried on at full speed into Etzel's land.
Wherever they knew of any kinsmen of the king, they let them know that the Burgundians would very shortly be coming from the Rhine into the land of the Huns. Bishop Pilgrim was told the news too. As they rode down the road past Pöchlarn, the news was told to Rüdiger — that was not left undone — and to Gotelind, the margrave's wife. That she was going to see them made her very happy.
The minstrels were seen hurrying on with their news. They found Etzel in the city of Esztergom. They told the king of greeting after greeting that had been sent to him, and he flushed red with joy. When the queen learned for certain that her brothers were coming into the land, she was glad at heart. She rewarded the minstrels with very great gifts; that was done for her honor.
She said: "Now tell me, both of you, Werbel and Swemmel, which of my kinsmen mean to be at the festival — the best of those we invited here into this land? And tell me, what did Hagen say when he heard the news?"
He said: "He came to the council early one morning, and he had little good to say about it. When the others agreed to the journey here to the land of the Huns, to grim Hagen it was the same as a sentence of death. Your brothers are coming, all three kings, in high spirits. Who else is coming with them I cannot tell you for certain. Volker, the bold minstrel, promised to ride with them."
"I could easily do without ever seeing Volker," said the king's wife. "But I am fond of Hagen. He is a very fine hero. That we are going to see him here lifts my heart."
Then the queen went to where she saw the king. How lovingly Kriemhild spoke to him! "How do you like this news, my dear lord? What my heart has always desired is going to come about now."
"Your wish is my joy," the king said. "I was never so glad to see my own kinsmen coming into my land as I am for your family's sake. Now that they are coming, my worries are gone."
The king's officers had the great hall and the hall of state everywhere fitted out with seats for the dear guests who were on their way to them. Later those guests would bring the king much bitter weeping.
Now let us leave the story of how they lived at Etzel's court. Warriors in such high spirits never rode so splendidly into any king's land: they had everything they wanted, both weapons and clothes. The lord of the Rhine fitted out his men — a thousand and sixty knights, as I have heard, and nine thousand squires — for the festival. Those they left at home would weep for it later.
The gear was being carried across the courtyard at Worms when an old bishop from Speyer said to beautiful Ute: "Our friends mean to ride to the festival. May God keep their honor safe there."
Then noble Ute said to her sons: "You should stay here, good heroes. Last night I dreamed of a terrible danger: every bird in this land lay dead."
"Whoever goes by dreams," said Hagen, "does not know what the right thing to say is when his honor is fully at stake. I want my lord to go to court and take his leave. We should be glad to ride to Etzel's land. A good hero's hand can serve kings well there, where we shall see Kriemhild's festival." So Hagen advised the journey; but later he regretted it.
He would have advised against it, if Gernot had not thrown such rough words at him. Gernot reminded him of Siegfried, Lady Kriemhild's husband, and said: "That is why Hagen wants to stay out of the great journey to court."
Hagen of Tronje answered: "I do nothing out of fear. Whenever you give the order, heroes, set to work. Truly, I will gladly ride with you to Etzel's land." Later many a helmet and shield-rim was hewn apart by his hand.
The boats were ready and many men were there. Whatever clothes they had were carried on board. They were busy until evening, and then they left home in the best of spirits. Tents and pavilions were pitched on the grass on the far side of the Rhine. When that was done, the king asked his beautiful wife to stay with him a little longer, and that night she still lay in the arms of her handsome husband. Trumpets and flutes sounded early in the morning, the signal to ride, and they got themselves ready. Whoever held a lover in his arms held her close. Later King Etzel's wife parted many of them in sorrow.
Beautiful Ute's sons had a vassal who was bold and loyal. When they were about to leave, he told the king privately what was on his mind. "I have to grieve," he said, "that you are making this journey to court." His name was Rumold, and he was a hero with his hands. He said: "Who will you leave your people and your lands to? What a shame no one can turn you warriors from your purpose! That news from Kriemhild never seemed good to me."
"The land is in your care, and my little child. Serve the ladies well; that is my wish. If you see anyone weeping, comfort them. Truly, King Etzel's wife will never do us any harm."
The horses stood ready for the kings and their men. Many a man who lived there in high spirits parted with loving kisses. Later many a lovely woman would have to weep for it.
When the swift warriors were seen going to their horses, many ladies could be seen standing there sorrowfully. Their hearts told them that this long parting meant great harm to come; that never sits easily on anyone's heart.
The swift Burgundians set out. There was a great stir in the land; on both sides of the mountains, women and men wept. But whatever their people did behind them, they rode away cheerfully. The Nibelung warriors rode with them, a thousand coats of mail strong; they had left many beautiful women at home whom they never saw again. Siegfried's wounds still pained Kriemhild.
Gunther's men set their course toward the Main, up through eastern Franconia. Hagen led them that way, for he knew the road well. Their marshal was Dankwart, the hero from the land of Burgundy. As they rode from eastern Franconia toward Schwanfeld, you could tell the princes and their kinsmen, those praiseworthy heroes, by their lordly bearing. On the twelfth morning the king came to the Danube.
Hagen of Tronje rode in front of everyone; he was a steadying comfort to the Burgundians — the Nibelungs, as they were called now. The bold warrior got down on the sandy bank and quickly tied his horse to a tree. The river was in flood, the boats hidden away. It was a great worry to the Nibelungs how they would get across; the current was far too wide. Many a fine knight dismounted.
"Harm may well come to you here, lord of the Rhine," said Hagen. "Now you can see for yourself: the river is in flood and its current is very strong. Truly, I think we are going to lose many a good hero here today."
"Why blame me, Hagen?" said the noble king. "For your own honor's sake, discourage us no more. Find us the ford across to the far bank, so that we can get both horses and gear away from here."
"I am not so tired of my life," said Hagen, "that I want to drown in these wide waters. Before that, many a man in Etzel's lands shall die by my hands; I have every intention of it. Stay by the water, you proud good knights. I will look for the ferrymen myself along the river, the ones who will bring us over into Gelfrat's land." Then strong Hagen took up his good shield.
He was very well armed. He carried the shield off with him, his helmet laced on, bright enough; and over his coat of mail he wore a sword so broad that it cut terribly on both edges. He searched up and down for the ferrymen. Then he heard water splashing and began to listen: in a beautiful spring, wise women were cooling themselves and bathing. Hagen noticed them and crept up quietly. When they realized it, they fled in a hurry, and they were very proud of having got away from him. The hero took their clothes, and did them no other harm.
Then one of the mermaids — her name was Hadeburg — said: "Noble knight Hagen, we will tell you here, if you give us our clothes back, bold warrior, how this journey to the Huns' court will go for you."
They floated in front of him on the water like birds, and so their wits seemed to him strong and good. Whatever they wanted to tell him, he believed it all the more. And what he asked them, they told him very clearly. She said: "You may ride to Etzel's land in safety. I pledge my loyalty on it, here and now, that heroes never rode into any kingdom to greater honor than you will. Believe that, truly."
Hagen's heart was glad at those words. He gave them their clothes and waited no longer. But when they had put on their strange garments, they told him the truth about the journey to Etzel's land. The other mermaid — her name was Sieglinde — said: "I want to warn you, Hagen, son of Aldrian. For the sake of the clothes, my aunt has lied to you. If you go to the Huns, you are badly deceived. You should turn back; there is still time for that. For you bold heroes have been invited so that you may die in Etzel's land. Whoever rides there has taken death by the hand."
Hagen said: "You are lying for no reason. How could it come about that we should all stay there dead, because of anyone's hatred?" They began to tell him the story more plainly.
One of them went on: "It must be so: not one of you can survive there, except the king's chaplain. We know this for certain. He will come home safe and sound to Gunther's land."
Bold Hagen said in a grim mood: "That would be a hard thing to tell my lords, that we should all lose our lives among the Huns. Now show us the way over the water, you wisest of all women."
She said: "Since you will not give up the journey: up there by the water stands an inn, and inside is a ferryman, and nowhere else." He asked no more about what he wanted to know.
But one of them called after the troubled warrior: "Wait, Lord Hagen, you are in far too much of a hurry. Hear the rest, how you can get across to the far bank. The lord of this border country is called Else. His brother is the warrior Gelfrat, a lord in Bavaria. It will go hard with you if you mean to pass through his territory; guard yourselves well, and deal very carefully with the ferryman. He is so fierce that he will not let you live unless you keep your wits about you with the hero. If you want him to ferry you over, pay him his fee. He guards this land and is loyal to Gelfrat. And if he does not come in good time, shout across the water and say your name is Amelrich. He was a good hero who left this land because of a feud. The ferryman will come to you when he hears that name."
Arrogant Hagen bowed to the women. He said nothing more, only kept his silence. Then he went along the water, upstream over the sand, until he found an inn on the far bank. He began to shout loudly across the river: "Now come and fetch me, ferryman," said the good warrior, "and I will give you an arm-ring of red gold for your trouble. I truly need this crossing, you should know."
The ferryman was so rich that it did not suit him to serve anyone, and so he very seldom took pay from any man; and his servants were very proud too. Hagen stood there all the while alone on his side of the river. Then he shouted with such force that the whole river rang with it, for the hero's strength was huge: "Now fetch me: I am Amelrich, Else's man, who fled this land because of a bitter feud."
High up on his sword he held out an arm-ring to him, bright and beautiful, of red gold, to be ferried over into Gelfrat's land. The arrogant ferryman took the oar in his own hand. This same ferryman had married only recently. Greed for great wealth comes to a very bad end: he wanted to earn Hagen's red gold, and so he died a grim death by the sword at the warrior's hands.
The ferryman rowed hard across to the bank. When he did not find the man he had heard calling, he grew angry in earnest, and when he saw Hagen he spoke to the warrior in a fury. "You may well be called Amelrich, but you are nothing like the man I expected to find here. He was my brother by father and mother. Now that you have tricked me, you can stay on this side."
"No, by almighty God," said Hagen. "I am a warrior from far away, with warriors in my care. Take my fee today as a friend and ferry me over. I am truly well disposed toward you."
The ferryman answered: "That cannot be. My dear lords have enemies, and that is why I ferry no stranger into this land. If you value your life, step out onto the sand this minute."
"Do not refuse me," said Hagen, "for my heart is heavy. Take this good gold from me as a token of friendship and ferry us over: a thousand horses, and as many men." The grim ferryman said: "That will never be done."
He raised a strong oar, big and broad, and struck Hagen — Hagen was not pleased by that — so that he stumbled to his knees in the boat. So fierce a ferryman had never come the way of the man of Tronje. Then he wanted to anger the arrogant stranger even more. He struck him with a pole so that it broke clean apart over Hagen's head — Hagen was a strong man — and from that Else's ferryman came to great harm. In a grim mood Hagen reached at once for his scabbard, where he found a sword. He struck off the ferryman's head and flung it into the river. The news soon reached the proud Burgundians.
At the very moment he killed the boatman, the boat drifted downstream, which troubled him enough. He began to tire before he could right it again; King Gunther's man pulled with all his strength. With very swift strokes the stranger turned it, until the strong oar snapped in his hand. He wanted to get to the warriors out on a stretch of bank, and there was no other oar. Hey, how quickly he bound it up with a shield-strap, a narrow band! He steered downstream toward a wood, and there he found his lord standing on the bank. Many a handsome man came down to meet him.
The swift good knights received him with a warm greeting. Then they saw blood steaming in the boat from the deep wound he had dealt the ferryman, and the warriors asked Hagen plenty of questions. When King Gunther saw the hot blood sloshing in the boat, how quickly he spoke: "Why do you not tell me, Hagen, where the ferryman has gone? I suspect your great strength has cost him his life."
Hagen answered with a lie: "I found the boat by a wild willow and loosed it with my own hand. I have seen no ferryman here today, and no one has come to any harm here through my fault."
Lord Gernot of Burgundy said: "Today I must fear for the lives of dear kinsmen. Since we have no boatmen ready, how are we to get across? I stand here grieving over that."
Hagen called out loudly: "Lay the gear down on the grass, squires. I remember that I was once the very best ferryman to be found on the Rhine. I am confident I can bring you across into Gelfrat's land."
So that they would cross the river sooner, they drove the horses in, and the swimming went well, for the strong current took not one of them; some drifted a long way downstream as they tired. Then they carried their gold and their clothes to the boat, since there was no way around the crossing. Hagen was the master there, and he ferried many a mighty warrior over onto the sand of the unknown land. First he brought across a full thousand splendid knights, then his own warriors; and there were still more. Nine thousand squires he ferried over to that shore. The hand of the man of Tronje was anything but idle that day.
When he had brought them all safely over the river, the swift good warrior remembered the strange news the wild mermaids had told him before. Because of it the king's chaplain nearly lost his life.
He found the priest beside the chapel baggage, leaning with his hand on the relics. That did him no good at all once Hagen saw him; God's poor priest had to suffer for it. He flung him out of the boat, in a great hurry about it. Plenty of them cried: "Grab him, sir, grab him!" Young Giselher grew angry, but Hagen would not let any of them stop him.
Lord Gernot of Burgundy said: "What good does the chaplain's death do you, Hagen? If anyone else did this, you would take it badly. What has the priest done to you that you have turned on him?"
The priest swam hard; he wanted to survive, if only someone would help him. But that could not be, for strong Hagen was in a rage and pushed him under, which no one thought well of. When the poor priest saw no help coming, he turned back the other way; he had a hard time of it. He could not swim, but God's hand helped him, so that he came safe and sound back onto the bank he had left. There the poor priest stood and shook out his robe. By that, Hagen saw plainly there was no way around what the wild mermaids had told him. He thought: these warriors must lose their lives.
When they had unloaded the boat and carried everything off it that the three kings' men had brought aboard, Hagen smashed it to pieces and threw it into the river. The bold good warriors wondered greatly at that.
"Why are you doing that, brother?" said Dankwart. "How are we going to get across when we ride back from the Huns, home to the Rhine?" Later Hagen told him that could never be. The hero of Tronje said: "I do it on this chance: if we have any coward on this journey who wants to run away from us out of cowardly fear, he will still have to die a shameful death in this water."
They had with them one man from the land of Burgundy, a hero with his hands, whose name was Volker. He spoke his whole mind with great wit. Whatever Hagen did, it seemed good to the fiddler. Their horses were ready, the pack-horses well loaded. On the journey so far they had taken no harm that troubled them — except the king's chaplain, who had to walk back to the Rhine on his own feet.
When they had all come up onto the sand, the king began to ask: "Who will show us the right roads through this land, so that we do not ride astray?" Strong Volker said: "I will see to that alone."
"Now hold still, all of you," said Hagen, "knights and squires. One should listen to one's friends; truly, that seems right to me. I have grim news to tell you: we shall never come back to the land of Burgundy. Two mermaids told me so early this morning, that we shall not come home again. Now I will advise you what to do: arm yourselves, heroes, and guard yourselves well. We have strong enemies here, so let us ride ready for war. I thought I would catch those wild mermaids in a lie. They swore that not one of us would get home to our land alive, except the chaplain. That is why I wanted so badly to drown him today."
The news flew from company to company, and swift heroes went pale with grief as they began to fear a hard death on this journey to court. Truly, they had good reason. They had crossed at Möringen, where Else's ferryman had lost his life, and now Hagen spoke again: "Since I have earned myself enemies on the road, we shall certainly be attacked. I killed that ferryman early this morning, and they know the story well by now. So set to work, heroes: if Gelfrat and Else fall on our company here today, let it end badly for them. I know them for such bold men that they will not leave it undone. Let the horses go at an easier pace, so that no one thinks we are running away along the road."
"I will follow that advice," said the warrior Giselher. "But who is to guide the company across the land?" They answered: "Let Volker do it. The bold minstrel knows every path and road here." Before the wish was fully spoken, you could see the swift fiddler standing there armed. He laced on his helmet; his battle gear was of a splendid color, and to his spear-shaft he tied a pennon, and it was red. Later he came with the kings into terrible peril.
By now sure word of the ferryman's death had reached Gelfrat, and the very strong Else had heard it too. Both of them grieved for it. They sent for their heroes, who were quickly ready. In a very short time — I will let you hear it — men were seen riding toward them who had done great damage in hard wars, a huge force: seven hundred or more came to Gelfrat. As they set off after their fierce enemies, they waited for their lords, who were somewhat too eager; they wanted to take out their anger on the bold strangers. Because of that, more of the lords' kinsmen were lost later.
Hagen of Tronje had arranged things well — how could any hero have guarded his kinsmen better? He took the rear guard with his own men and his brother Dankwart. That was very wisely done. The daylight had run out on them; they had none left. He feared harm and sorrow for his friends. They rode under their shields through the Bavarian land, and a short while later the heroes were attacked.
On both sides of the road, and hard behind them, they heard hooves clattering; the men coming were in too much of a hurry. Bold Dankwart said: "They mean to attack us here. Now lace on your helmets; I think that would be wise." They halted on their way, as they had to. In the dark they saw the gleam of bright shields. Hagen would keep silent no longer: "Who is hunting us on the road?" And Gelfrat had to answer him.
The margrave of Bavaria said: "We are looking for our enemies, and we have ridden hard after them. I do not know who killed my ferryman today. He was a hero with his hands, and I grieve for him badly."
Hagen of Tronje said: "So the ferryman was yours? He would not ferry us over. The fault is mine: I killed the warrior, and truly, I had no choice. I very nearly got my death from his hands. I offered him gold and clothing as his fee, hero, to carry us over into your land. That made him so angry that he struck me with a heavy pole, and I was grim enough about it. Then I got to my sword and fought off his anger with a deep wound. That is how the hero died. I will make amends for it to you, however seems good to you." But it came to a fight; they were hard-set men.
"I knew very well," said Gelfrat, "when Gunther rode through here with his company, that Hagen of Tronje would do us harm. Now he shall not live. The hero must be the pledge here for the ferryman's death."
Gelfrat and Hagen leaned their spears over their shields for the thrust; each of them wanted at the other. Else and Dankwart rode splendidly; they tested who the other was, and there was fierce fighting. How could heroes ever have tested each other better? A mighty joust from Gelfrat's hand sent bold Hagen over the back of his horse. His breast-strap broke, and he learned what fighting was. The crash of shafts rang out from their companies. Then Hagen, who had gone down from the thrust onto the grass, got up again. I think he was in no gentle mood toward Gelfrat.
Who held their horses for them I do not know. Hagen and Gelfrat had both come down onto the sand, and they ran at each other; their companions helped them, and fighting broke out all around. But however fiercely Hagen sprang at Gelfrat, the noble margrave struck such a great piece off his shield that fire flew from it. Gunther's bold vassal very nearly died of it. He began to call to Dankwart: "Help me, dear brother! A hero with his hands has set on me, and he will not let me live." Bold Dankwart said: "I will be the one to settle this."
The hero sprang closer and struck Gelfrat a blow with a sharp weapon, and from it he fell dead. Else wanted badly to avenge the man then, but he and his company left the field with heavy losses. His brother had been killed, and he himself was wounded; a good eighty of his warriors stayed there on the spot in grim death. The lord had to turn and flee from Gunther's men.
As the men of Bavaria gave way and fled, you could hear the terrible blows ringing out behind them. The men of Tronje chased their enemies; those who had never thought they would pay for anything were all in a great hurry now. Still in the pursuit, the warrior Dankwart said: "We should turn back on this road at once and let them ride; they are wet with blood. Let us hurry back to our friends. I advise that in earnest."
When they came back to where the damage had been done, Hagen of Tronje said: "Heroes, you must see what we are missing here, and whom we have lost in this fight through Gelfrat's anger." They had lost four men, and they had to mourn them. But those four were well paid for: against them a hundred of the Bavarians or more lay dead. The shields of the men of Tronje were dull with it and wet with blood.
The bright moon broke partly through the clouds. Hagen spoke again: "No one is to tell my dear lords what we have done here. Let them stay free of worry until morning."
When the men who had been fighting back there caught up with the rest, the whole company was suffering badly from weariness. "How much longer must we ride?" many a man asked. Bold Dankwart said: "We can have no lodging tonight. You must all ride on until it is day." Swift Volker, who had charge of the company, had the marshal asked: "Where are we to spend the night, so that our horses can rest, and my dear lords too?"
Bold Dankwart said: "I cannot tell you that. We cannot rest until it begins to get light. Wherever we find a place then, we will lie down on the grass." When they heard that news, some of them took it hard.
No one gave them away, red with hot blood as they were, until the sun sent its bright shining out over the hills to the morning and the king saw that they had been fighting. The hero said angrily: "What is this, friend Hagen? I think you did not care to have me with you when your mail-rings got wet with blood like this. Who did it?"
He said: "Else did it. He attacked us in the night; we were set upon because of his ferryman. Then my brother Dankwart's hand struck Gelfrat down. Else got away from us after that, and he had good reason to. A hundred of theirs and four of ours were left dead in the fight."
I cannot tell you where they lay down to rest. Afterward all the people of the countryside learned that noble Ute's sons were riding to court. Later they were well received at Passau. The noble kings' uncle, Bishop Pilgrim, was very glad when his nephews came into his land with so many warriors. That he wished them well they learned very soon. Friends welcomed them along the roads, but at Passau there was no way to house them all. They had to cross the river to where they found open ground, and there huts and tents were pitched.
They had to stay there a whole day, and the full night as well, and how well they were looked after! After that they had to ride into Rüdiger's land, and the news of it reached him very soon.
When the road-weary men had taken their rest and were drawing nearer to that land, they found a man asleep on the border, and Hagen of Tronje took a strong weapon from him. The good strong knight's name was Eckewart. He was heavy-hearted about it, that he had lost his weapon through the heroes' coming. They had found Rüdiger's border badly guarded.
"Oh, the shame of this," said Eckewart. "Truly, I grieve bitterly for this journey of the Burgundians. Since I lost Siegfried, my joy has been gone. Oh, Lord Rüdiger, how badly I have served you."
Hagen heard the noble warrior's distress plainly. He gave him back his weapon, and six red-gold arm-rings besides. "Take these, hero, as a token that you are my friend. You are a bold warrior, however alone you lie out here on the border."
"God reward you for your rings," said Eckewart. "But still I grieve bitterly for your journey to the Huns. You killed Siegfried, and you are hated here. Guard yourselves well; I advise you that in all loyalty."
"Now may God protect us," said Hagen. "These warriors, the kings and their men too, have no other worry now than lodging: where in this land we are to find a night's shelter tonight. Our horses are worn out on the hard roads," said the warrior Hagen, "and our food has run out. We find nothing for sale anywhere. We need a host who, out of his own goodness, would give us his bread tonight."
Eckewart answered: "I will show you a host so good that you have seldom been lodged as well in any land as you may be here, if you swift warriors are willing to go and see Rüdiger. He lives right by the road, and he is the best host who ever kept a house. His heart brings forth good things the way sweet May brings the grass its flowers. Whenever he can serve heroes, he is glad at heart."
King Gunther said: "Will you be my messenger, and ask whether my dear friend Rüdiger will take us in for my sake, my kinsmen and our men? I will repay that with my service forever, as well as I ever can."
"I will gladly be your messenger," said Eckewart. With a very good will he set out on the road and told Rüdiger what he had heard. In many a year no news had come to him that pleased him so much.
At Pöchlarn a warrior was seen riding hard. Rüdiger himself recognized him and said: "There comes Eckewart hurrying along the road, one of Kriemhild's men." He thought enemies had done him some harm. He went out in front of the gate, where he found the messenger. Eckewart unbuckled his sword and laid it from his hand. The news he brought was not kept back; it was quickly told to the host and his kinsmen.
He said to the margrave: "Gunther, lord of the land of Burgundy, has sent me to you, and his brother Giselher, and Gernot too. Each of those warriors sends you his service here. Hagen and Volker send the same, loyally and eagerly. And I will tell you more: the king's marshal sends you word by me that the good squires are badly in need of your lodging."
Rüdiger answered with a laugh: "What good news this is for me, that the noble kings are willing to accept my service! It will not be refused them. If they come to my house, I am glad and happy."
"Dankwart the marshal asked me to let you know whom you would have to house along with them: sixty swift warriors, a thousand good knights, and nine thousand squires." At that Rüdiger was glad at heart.
"How lucky I am in these guests," said Rüdiger, "that these warriors are coming to my house, when I have had so little chance to serve them. Now ride out to meet them, kinsmen and vassals alike."
Knights and squires hurried to their horses; whatever their lord commanded seemed right to all of them, and they set about his service all the faster. And still Lady Gotelind knew nothing of it, sitting in her chamber.
Then the margrave went to find the ladies, his wife and his daughter, and told them at once the very welcome news he had heard: their lady's brothers were coming to their house. "My dearest wife," said Rüdiger, "you must give the noble kings a very warm welcome when they come to court here with their retinue. And you must greet Hagen, Gunther's vassal, handsomely too. With them comes a man named Dankwart, and another named Volker, a man of fine manners. You and my daughter are to kiss these six, and treat the warriors with courtesy and kindness."
The ladies promised, and they were ready to do it. They searched the chests for the splendid clothes they would wear to go out and meet the warriors. There was a great deal of effort made by beautiful women that day. You would have found very little false color on their cheeks. On their heads they wore bright bands of gold, rich circlets, so that the wind would not tangle their beautiful hair; that is true, on my honor.
Let us leave the ladies to their busy work. There was a great hurrying across the fields by Rüdiger's kinsmen to where the princes were, and the princes were well received into the margrave's land. When the margrave saw them coming toward him, swift Rüdiger said joyfully: "Welcome, my lords, and your men too, here in my land. I am very glad to see you." The warriors bowed to him in loyalty, without a trace of ill will. He showed them plainly that he wished them well. He greeted Hagen specially, for he had known him before, and he did the same for Volker from the land of Burgundy. He welcomed Dankwart too. The bold warrior said: "Since you are taking us in, who is going to look after the retinue we have brought with us?"
The margrave said: "You shall have a good night, and so shall your whole retinue. Whatever you have brought with you into this land, horses and clothing, I will set such a guard on it that nothing is lost that could do you harm, not so much as a single spur. Pitch the tents on the field, squires. Whatever you lose here, I will make it good. Take off the bridles and let the horses run." No host had ever done that for them before.
The guests were glad of it. When all that was arranged, the lords rode on, and the squires lay down everywhere on the grass and took their ease. I think they never fared so comfortably on this whole journey.
The noble margravine had come out in front of the castle with her very beautiful daughter. Beside her stood the lovely ladies and many a beautiful girl, wearing many arm-rings and splendid clothes. The precious stones shone far out of their rich garments; they were beautiful women. Then the guests came and dismounted at once. Hey, what fine courtesy was found in those Burgundians! Thirty-six girls and many other women, their bodies made as anyone could wish, went to meet them with many a bold man. There was a beautiful greeting given by noble ladies.
The young margravine kissed all three kings, and so did her mother. Hagen was standing right there. Her father told her to kiss him; she looked at him, and he seemed so fearsome that she would gladly have left it undone. But she had to do what the host commanded. Her color came and went, pale and red. She kissed Dankwart too, and then the minstrel; that greeting was given him for his courage. The young margravine took Giselher, the warrior from the land of Burgundy, by the hand, and her mother did the same with Gunther, the bold man. They went in with the heroes in high spirits. The host walked beside Gernot into a wide hall, and knights and ladies sat down there. Good wine was quickly ordered poured for the guests. Truly, heroes could never have been better treated.
Rüdiger's daughter was looked at with loving eyes, she was so lovely. Truly, many a good knight loved her in his thoughts, and she deserved it, for she was high-spirited. They thought whatever they liked, but nothing could come of it. Back and forth went many a look at the girls and the ladies, and there were plenty of them sitting there. The noble fiddler felt kindly toward the host.
Then, as the custom was, they parted; knights and ladies went their separate ways. Tables were set up in the wide hall, and from then on the foreign guests were splendidly served. For the guests' sake the noble margravine came to table, but her daughter she left with the girls, where it was proper for her to sit. The guests could not see her, and truly that irked them.
When they had all drunk and eaten, the beautiful ladies were brought back into the hall, and no playful talk was left unsaid. Volker, a bold and cheerful warrior, spoke a great deal of it. The noble minstrel said out loud: "Mighty margrave, God has dealt very graciously with you: he has given you a wife so truly beautiful, and a delightful life along with her. If I were a prince," said the minstrel, "and was to wear a crown, I would want your beautiful daughter for my wife; that is what my heart wishes. She is lovely to look at, and noble and good besides."
The margrave said: "How could that ever be, that a king would want my dear daughter? My wife and I are exiles here. What good is great beauty to the girl?"
Gernot, the well-bred man, answered: "If I could have a wife after my own heart, I would always be glad of such a woman." And Hagen answered very kindly: "Now my lord Giselher really must take a wife. The margravine's family is so high that I and all his men would gladly serve her if she were to wear the crown in Burgundy."
That speech seemed very good to Rüdiger, and to Gotelind too; truly their hearts rejoiced. Then the heroes brought it about that noble Giselher took her as his wife, as well befitted a king. What is meant to happen, who can stand in its way? They asked the young lady to come to court. They swore to give him the delightful woman, and he in turn promised to love the lovely girl. Castles and land were assigned to the young lady; the noble king's hand swore oaths on it, and Lord Gernot's too, that it would be done.
The margrave said: "Since I have no castles, I will always be loyally devoted to you. With my daughter I give silver and gold, as much as a hundred pack-horses can carry at the most, so that the hero's kinsmen may be pleased with it, as honor requires."
Then, as the custom was, they had the two of them stand inside a ring. Many a young man stood facing them in a cheerful mood, thinking in his mind what the young still like to think. When they began to ask the lovely girl whether she would have the warrior, it was partly painful to her, and yet she meant to take the handsome man. The question embarrassed her, as it has embarrassed many a girl. Her father Rüdiger advised her to say yes and to take him gladly. In a moment noble Giselher was there and put his white arms around her, though in the end she had little joy of him.
The margrave said: "You noble and mighty kings, when you ride back home to Burgundy, as is the custom, I will give you my child so you can take her with you." They promised that. Whatever merriment there was, they had to let it go. The young lady was sent to her chamber and the guests to sleep and rest until day. Then food was prepared; the host looked after them kindly.
When they had eaten, they wanted to ride on toward the land of the Huns. "I will put a stop to that," said the noble host. "You must stay here, for I have seldom had such dear guests." Dankwart answered: "That cannot be. Where would you find the food, the bread and the wine, that you would need for so many warriors for another night?" When the host heard that, he said: "Stop that talk. My dear lords, do not refuse me. Truly, I can feed you for fourteen days, with your whole retinue that has come here with you. King Etzel has taken very little from me yet."
However hard they resisted, they had to stay until the fourth morning. In that time the host's generosity did such things that word of it traveled far: he gave his guests both horses and clothes. It could go on no longer; they had to leave. Bold Rüdiger could hold back very little, so generous was he: whatever anyone wanted to take, he refused to no one, and it pleased them all. Their noble retinue brought the many saddled horses out in front of the gate, and the foreign warriors came out to them with their shields in their hands, for they meant to ride into Etzel's land.
The host had offered his gifts to everyone before the noble guests came out in front of the hall. He knew how to live generously and with great honor. His beautiful daughter he had given to Giselher. Then he gave Gunther, that praiseworthy hero who seldom accepted any gift, a coat of armor, and the noble mighty prince wore it well, with honor. Gunther bowed over noble Rüdiger's hand. Then he gave Gernot a fine sword, which Gernot later carried splendidly in battle. The margrave's wife did not begrudge him the gift at all; and in the end good Rüdiger lost his life by it. Gotelind offered Hagen her loving gift, as was only proper for her: since the king had accepted one, Hagen too should not go from her to the festival without a present from her. Yet he declined it afterwards. "Of everything I have ever seen," said Hagen, "I would want nothing more to carry away from here than that shield there on the wall. I would gladly take that into Etzel's land."
When the margravine heard Hagen's words, it reminded her of her grief, and weeping became her. She thought with great pain of Nudung's death; Witege had killed him, and it had left her in deep sorrow. She said to the warrior: "I will give you the shield. I wish to God in heaven that the man who once carried it in his hand were still alive! He lay dead in battle. I must weep for him forever; that is the distress of a poor woman like me."
The noble margravine rose from her seat. With her white hands she took hold of the shield; the lady carried it to Hagen, and he took it in his hand. The gift was bestowed on the warrior with honor. A cover of bright silk lay over its colors. Daylight never shone on a better shield, set with precious stones; if anyone had wanted to buy it at its cost, it was well worth a thousand marks. Hagen had the shield carried away ahead of him. Then Dankwart came to court, and the margrave's child gave him rich clothes, which he later wore among the Huns in great splendor.
All of the gifts they accepted would never have come into any of their hands except out of love for the host, who offered them so handsomely. Later they became such enemies to him that they had to strike him dead.
Swift Volker went courteously with his fiddle to stand before Gotelind. He played sweet tunes and sang her his songs. With that he took his leave as he parted from Pöchlarn. The margravine had a chest brought to her; now you may hear of friendly gifts. From it she took twelve arm-rings and slid them onto his hand. "You are to take these away from here into Etzel's land, and wear them at court for my sake, so that when you come back I can be told how you served me there at the festival." What the lady asked of him, he carried out well in the end.
The host said to his guests: "You will travel all the more easily, for I will guide you myself and have you well guarded, so that no one can harm you on the road." Then his pack-horses were loaded without delay. The host was well equipped, with five hundred men, with horses and with clothes; he took them with him to the festival in great splendor. Not one of them ever came back to Pöchlarn alive.
The host parted from his home with loving kisses, and so did Giselher, as his good breeding told him to. They held beautiful women in their arms. Later many a young lady had to weep for that. Then the windows were thrown open everywhere; the host and his men were about to go to their horses. I think their hearts told them of the crushing sorrow to come, for many a lady wept there, and many a lovely girl. Plenty of them ached for their dear kinsmen, whom they never saw again at Pöchlarn. Yet the men rode off cheerfully down over the sand, downriver along the Danube and into the land of the Huns.
Then noble Rüdiger, the cheerful knight, said to the Burgundians: "The news that we are coming to the Huns must not be kept back. King Etzel has never heard anything that pleased him more." The messenger rode fast down through Austria, and people everywhere were told that the heroes were coming from Worms across the Rhine. Nothing could have pleased the king's household more. The messengers hurried on ahead with the news that the Nibelungs were in the land of the Huns. "You must welcome them well, Kriemhild, my lady. Your dear brothers are coming to you in great honor."
Lady Kriemhild stood at a window, watching for her kinsmen as friends still watch for friends. She saw many a man from her homeland. The king heard the news too, and began to laugh for joy. "Oh, how happy I am!" said Kriemhild. "Here my kinsmen bring many a new shield and white coats of mail. Whoever wants gold, let him remember my wrongs, and I will always be his friend."
When the Burgundians came into Etzel's land, old Hildebrand of Bern, the Italian city we call Verona, heard of it. He told his lord, and it grieved Dietrich deeply; he asked Hildebrand to give the bold, high-spirited knights a good welcome. Swift Wolfhart had the horses brought, and many a strong warrior rode out with Dietrich to greet them on the field, where the guests had pitched many a splendid tent.
When Hagen of Tronje saw them riding toward him from far off, he said courteously to his lords: "Now, swift warriors, you should get up from your seats and go to meet these men who want to welcome you. A company is coming this way that I know well. They are swift warriors from the land of the Amelungs, and the lord of Bern leads them; they are proud men. Do not scorn whatever service they offer you."
Then many a knight and squire got down from his horse beside Dietrich, as was only right. They went over to the guests, to where the heroes were, and greeted the men from the land of Burgundy warmly.
When Lord Dietrich saw them coming toward him, he spoke to Ute's sons, and now you may like to hear what the warrior said. Their journey grieved him; he thought Rüdiger knew about the danger and had told them. "Welcome, my lords Gunther and Giselher, Gernot and Hagen, and Lord Volker too, and Dankwart the swift. Do you not know this? Kriemhild still weeps bitterly for the hero of the Nibelung land."
"She can weep a long time," said Hagen. "He has lain dead for many a year now. She should love the king of the Huns instead. Siegfried is not coming back; he was buried long ago."
"Let us leave Siegfried's wounds alone for now. As long as Lady Kriemhild is alive, harm may still be done." So spoke Dietrich, the lord of Bern. "You are the Nibelungs' mainstay; guard yourself against it."
"How am I supposed to guard myself?" said the noble king. "Etzel sent us messengers — what more should I ask? — to say we should ride here to him in this land. And my sister Kriemhild has sent us many messages too."
"I can give you good advice," said Hagen. "Ask Lord Dietrich and his good heroes to tell you the news in full, so that they let you know what Lady Kriemhild has in mind."
Then the three mighty kings went aside to talk: Gunther and Gernot, and Lord Dietrich too. "Now tell us, noble good knight of Bern, what you know of the queen's state of mind."
The lord of Bern said: "What more can I tell you? Every morning I hear Etzel's wife weeping and lamenting, in pitiful grief, to the mighty God of heaven over strong Siegfried's death."
"What we have heard cannot be changed now," said the bold man, Volker the fiddler. "We must ride to court and let it be seen what may happen to us swift warriors there among the Huns."
The bold Burgundians rode on to court. They came in splendor, after the custom of their land, and many a bold man among the Huns wondered about Hagen of Tronje, what he might look like. It was enough that the story was told — that he had killed Siegfried of the Netherlands, the strongest of all warriors, Kriemhild's husband — and so there was a great deal of asking about Hagen at court. The hero was well built, that is the plain truth: broad in the chest, his hair streaked with gray, his legs long, his gaze terrible; and he walked like a lord.
Then the Burgundian men were shown to their lodgings, and Gunther's household was quartered apart from them. The queen, who bore him so much hatred, had advised this; and that is why the squires were later killed in their lodgings.
Dankwart, Hagen's brother, was the marshal. The king earnestly put his household in his charge, to look after them well and give them plenty. The hero of Burgundy wished them all well.
Beautiful Kriemhild went with her attendants to where she received the Nibelungs with a false heart. She kissed Giselher and took him by the hand. Hagen of Tronje saw it, and he laced his helmet tighter.
"After a greeting like that," said Hagen, "swift warriors may well think again. Kings and their men are greeted differently here. We have not made a good journey to this festival."
She said: "Be welcome to anyone who is glad to see you. I do not greet you out of any friendship I feel for you myself. Tell me what you bring me from Worms across the Rhine, that you should be so very welcome to me."
"If I had known," said Hagen, "that warriors were supposed to bring you gifts — I am rich enough — I would have thought ahead and brought you my gift here to this land."
"Now you shall tell me more. The Nibelung treasure: what have you done with it? It was mine, as everyone knows. You should have brought it to me here in Etzel's land."
"Truly, my Lady Kriemhild, it is many a day since I had the keeping of the Nibelung treasure. My lords had it sunk in the Rhine, and there it must truly stay until the Last Day."
The queen said: "I thought as much. You have brought me very little of it here into this land, though it was my own and I once had it in my keeping. That gives me many a sad day, all my life."
"The devil is what I bring you," said Hagen. "I have enough to carry with my shield and my coat of mail; my helmet is so bright, and the sword in my hand — that I will not bring you."
Then the queen said to all the warriors: "No one may carry weapons into the hall. You heroes, hand them over to me; I will have them kept safe."
"Truly," said Hagen, "that will never be done. I do not want the honor, generous lady, of having you carry my shield and my other weapons to the lodgings. You are a queen. My father never taught me that; I will be my own chamberlain."
"Oh, what grief is mine," said Lady Kriemhild. "Why will my brother and Hagen not let their shields be kept? They have been warned. If I knew who did it, he would have to die."
Prince Dietrich answered her angrily: "It is I who warned the noble mighty kings and bold Hagen, the Burgundians' man. Go on, she-devil — you shall not make me pay for it."
Etzel's wife was deeply ashamed at that; she bitterly feared Dietrich. She went away from him quickly without a word, only casting fierce looks at her enemies.
Then two warriors took each other by the hand: one was Lord Dietrich, the other Hagen. The high-spirited warrior said courteously: "Your coming to the Huns truly grieves me, because of what the queen has said." Hagen of Tronje said: "It will all come right." So the two bold men talked together, and King Etzel began to ask about it.
"I would like to know," said the mighty king, "who that warrior is whom Lord Dietrich is welcoming so warmly over there. He carries himself proudly. Whoever his father may be, he could well be a good hero."
One of Kriemhild's men answered the king: "He was born at Tronje; his father's name was Aldrian. However cheerful he may act here, he is a grim man. I will let you see that I have told no lie."
"How am I to tell that he is so grim?" asked the king. At that time the king did not yet know the many evil tricks that the queen later played on her kinsmen, so that she let not one of them leave the Huns alive.
"I knew Aldrian well," Etzel went on. "He was my vassal. He won praise and great honor here with me. I made him a knight and gave him my gold. Loyal Helche was fond of him with all her heart. And that is how I know for certain who they are. Two handsome boys became my hostages, he and Walther of Spain. They grew to manhood here. Hagen I sent home again; Walther escaped with Hildegund."
He was thinking of old stories from long ago. He had clearly recognized his friend from Tronje, the man who had done him great service in his youth. Later, in Etzel's old age, Hagen killed many of his dear friends.
Then the two praiseworthy warriors, Hagen of Tronje and Lord Dietrich, went their separate ways. Gunther's vassal looked over his shoulder for a comrade-in-arms, and he found one quickly enough. He saw Volker, the skilled fiddler, standing beside Giselher, and asked him to come along, for he knew the fiddler's grim temper well. In every way Volker was a bold and good knight.
They left the lords still standing in the courtyard. Only those two were seen walking off, far across the courtyard, toward a wide palace. Those chosen warriors feared no one's hatred. They sat down on a bench in front of the building, facing a hall that belonged to Kriemhild, and their splendid clothes shone on their bodies. Plenty of the people there would gladly have known who they were. The Huns gaped at the two proud heroes as if they were wild animals. Etzel's wife saw them too, through a window, and beautiful Kriemhild was troubled all over again. It reminded her of her sorrow, and she began to weep. Etzel's men wondered greatly what had darkened her mood so suddenly. She said: "Hagen did that, you bold and good heroes."
They said to the lady: "How did that happen? Only a moment ago we saw you glad. No one has ever been so bold that he could do this to you and keep his life, if you tell us to avenge it."
"I would serve forever whoever avenged my wrongs. Whatever he asked for, I would be ready to give it. I throw myself at your feet," said the king's wife. "Avenge me on Hagen, so that he loses his life."
Then sixty bold men armed themselves at once. For Kriemhild's sake they meant to go over and kill Hagen, that very bold man, and the fiddler as well; it was all planned out. But when the queen saw how small her band was, she said to the heroes in a grim mood: "Give up what you have in mind. With so few, you can never take on Hagen. However strong and bold Hagen of Tronje may be, the man sitting beside him, Volker the fiddler, is far stronger still. He is a dangerous man. Truly, you should not take these heroes on so lightly."
When they heard that, more of them armed themselves — four hundred swift warriors. The noble queen was set on doing them harm. Later that brought great trouble on many warriors. When she saw her men well armed, the queen said to the swift warriors: "Now wait a while; you must stand quite still. I will go to my enemies wearing my crown, and hear me charge Hagen of Tronje, Gunther's vassal, with what he has done to me. I know he is so arrogant that he will not deny a word of it. And I do not care what happens to him for it."
Then the fiddler, that bold minstrel, saw the noble queen coming down a flight of steps from a building. When bold Volker saw that, he said to his comrade-in-arms: "Now look, friend Hagen, there she comes, the woman who invited us into this land without a trace of loyalty. I never saw so many men with swords in their hands walking so ready for a fight beside any king's wife. Do you know, friend Hagen, whether she hates you? If she does, I advise you to guard your life and your honor all the more carefully. Truly, that seems wise to me. As far as I can tell, they are in an angry mood, and some of them are so broad in the chest that anyone who wants to protect himself had better do it in good time. I think they are wearing bright coats of mail underneath. Who they mean it for, I cannot tell you."
Then bold Hagen said angrily: "I know very well that all this is aimed at me, that they carry those bright weapons in their hands. For all they could do, I could still ride home to the land of Burgundy. Now tell me, friend Volker, will you stand by me if Kriemhild's men want to fight me? Let me hear it, as you love me. I will stand by you forever in loyal service."
"I will help you, you may be sure," said the minstrel. "If I saw the king himself coming at us with all his warriors, as long as I live I would not yield one foot from your side out of fear."
"May God in heaven reward you, noble Volker. If they fight me, what more do I need? Since you will help me, as I have just heard, let these warriors come on, fully armed."
"Now let us rise from our seats," said the minstrel. "She is a queen; let her pass by, and show her honor. She is a noble woman, and it will do each of us honor too."
"No — for my sake, no," said Hagen. "These warriors would think I did it out of fear if I went away from here. I will never rise from this seat for any one of them. Truly, it suits us both better to leave it alone. Why should I honor someone who hates me? I will never do that as long as I live. And I do not care how much King Etzel's wife hates me."
Arrogant Hagen laid a gleaming sword across his knees. In its pommel shone a bright jasper, greener than grass. Kriemhild knew it well: it was Siegfried's. When she recognized the sword, grief overcame her. Its hilt was gold and its scabbard bound with a red braid. It reminded her of her sorrow, and she began to weep. I think bold Hagen had done it for exactly that reason.
Swift Volker drew a strong fiddle bow closer to him on the bench, huge and long, very like a sword, sharp and broad. And there the two proud warriors sat without fear. The two bold men thought so much of themselves that they would not rise from their seat for fear of anyone. So the noble queen walked right up to their feet, and gave them a hostile greeting.
She said: "Tell me, Hagen, who sent for you, that you dared to ride here into this land when you know very well what you have done to me? If you had any sense, you would rightly have stayed away."
"No one sent for me," said Hagen. "Three warriors were invited into this land. They are called my lords, and I am their vassal. I have seldom stayed behind when they rode to any court."
She said: "Now tell me more. Why did you do what earned you my hatred? You killed Siegfried, my dear husband. I will have cause enough to weep for that until the day I die."
He said: "What more is there to say? Enough has been said. Yes, I am Hagen, who killed Siegfried, that hero with his hands. How dearly he paid for it that beautiful Kriemhild insulted Lady Brunhild. There is no denying it, mighty queen. All the guilt for that ruinous harm is mine. Let whoever wants to avenge it, woman or man. I would be lying if I said anything else: I have done you great wrong."
She said: "Now listen, warriors, how he denies not one of my wrongs. Whatever happens to him for it, men of Etzel, I do not care." The arrogant warriors looked at one another. If anyone had started the fight there, it would have ended with the honor going to those two comrades, for they had proved themselves in battle many times. What the Huns had boasted they would do, they had to leave undone, out of fear.
One of the warriors said: "Why are you looking at me? What I promised before, I take back. I will not lose my life for anyone's reward. King Etzel's wife is trying to lead us to ruin."
Another beside him said: "I feel the same. If someone gave me towers of good red gold, I would not take on this fiddler, not after the fierce looks I have seen in his eyes. And I have known Hagen since his young days; no one needs to tell me much about that warrior. I have seen him in twenty-two battles, where many a woman came to heartbreak. He and the man from Spain dealt many a thrust when they fought all those battles here with Etzel, for the king's honor. That happened often, and so Hagen rightly deserves honor. In those days the warrior was still a boy in years. How gray they are now, the ones who were young then! Now he has come to his full wits, and he is a grim man. And he carries Balmung, which he won by evil means."
So the matter was settled: no one fought. That grieved the queen to the heart. The heroes turned away; truly, they feared death at the fiddler's hands, and they had good reason to.
Then the fiddler said: "We have seen plainly that we shall find enemies here, as we heard said before. Let us go to court, to the kings; then no one will dare attack our lords. How often a man leaves a thing undone out of fear — when friend stands by friend as a friend should, and he has the good sense not to do it. Many a man's harm is well warded off by good sense."
"Now I will follow you," said Hagen. They went to where they found the splendid warriors standing in the courtyard, surrounded by a great crowd of welcomers. Bold Volker began to speak loudly to his lords: "How long are you going to stand here and let yourselves be jostled? You should go to court and hear from the king what mood he is in." Then the bold and good heroes were seen pairing off.
The prince of Bern took mighty Gunther of Burgundy by the hand. Irnfried took bold Gernot, and Rüdiger was seen walking to court with Giselher. But however anyone else paired off and went to court, Volker and Hagen never parted, except in one battle, at the hour of their death. Later noble women had to weep bitterly for that.
With the kings a thousand bold men of their noble household were seen going to court, and sixty warriors besides who had come with them; bold Hagen had brought those from his own land. Hawart and Iring, two chosen men, were seen walking in company beside the kings. Dankwart and Wolfhart, a splendid warrior, were seen showing their good breeding before all the others.
When the lord of the Rhine entered the great hall, mighty Etzel waited no longer. He sprang from his seat when he saw him coming. No king ever gave so fine a greeting. "Welcome, Lord Gunther, and Lord Gernot too, and your brother Giselher. I sent you my service, loyally and eagerly, to Worms across the Rhine, and all your household shall be welcome to me. Now be very welcome, you two warriors, Volker the bold and Hagen too, to me and to my lady here in this land. She sent you many a messenger to the Rhine."
Hagen of Tronje said: "I have heard a great deal about that. If I had not come to the Huns for my lords' sake, I would have ridden into this land in your honor." Then the noble host took his dear guests by the hand and led them to the seat where he himself sat. Drink was poured for the guests, and poured generously, in wide golden bowls: mead, wine, and morat, the mulberry drink. And the strangers so far from home were bidden a hearty welcome.
King Etzel said: "I will tell you this: nothing in the whole world could please me more than that you heroes have come to me. It has taken a great sorrow off the queen. I wonder what I ever did to you — I have won so many noble guests — that you never cared to come into my lands. Now that I have seen you, it is turned to joy for me."
Rüdiger, a knight of high spirit, answered: "You may well be glad to see them. Their loyalty is good; my lady's kinsmen know how to keep it well. They bring many a handsome warrior to your house."
The lords had come to mighty Etzel's court on midsummer's eve. Seldom has anyone heard of so high a greeting as the one he gave the heroes. Now it was time to eat, and the host went with them to the table. A host never sat more handsomely among his guests. They were given food and drink in plenty. Whatever they wanted was ready for them, for great wonders had been told about those heroes.
The day was over now and night was coming on. The travel-weary warriors had one worry on their minds: when they could rest and go to their beds. Hagen raised the matter, and they were soon given their answer.
Gunther said to the host: "God keep you well. We want to go to sleep now; please give us your leave. Whenever you command it, we will come back early tomorrow." Etzel parted from his guests in the best of spirits.
Everywhere you looked, the guests were being jostled. Bold Volker said to the Huns: "How dare you get under these warriors' feet? If you do not stop, you will get hurt. I will give one of you such a heavy stroke of my fiddle bow that if he has a loyal friend anywhere, that friend will have cause to weep for it. Why not get out of our way, warriors? That seems the wise thing to me. You are all called warriors, but you are not all of the same mettle."
When the fiddler spoke so angrily, bold Hagen looked back over his shoulder. "The bold minstrel is giving you good advice," he said. "Go to your lodgings, you heroes of Kriemhild. What you have in mind, I do not think any of you will do. If you want to start something, come to us early tomorrow, and tonight let us strangers have our rest. I do not think heroes ever went about things with intentions like yours."
Then the guests were brought into a wide hall. They found it made ready for the warriors from end to end with rich beds, long and broad. Lady Kriemhild was plotting the very worst of harm against them. You could see many a finely worked quilt from Arras there, of bright silk, and many a bedspread of Arabian silk, the best there could be, with borders on them that shone splendidly. Many coverlets of ermine and of black sable could be seen, and under them the men were to take their rest that night until the bright day came. No king with his household ever lay down so splendidly.
"Alas for this night's lodging," said young Giselher, "and alas for my kinsmen who have come here with us. However kindly my sister has received us, I am afraid that through her we shall all lie dead."
"Put your worries aside now," said Hagen the warrior. "I will keep the shield-watch myself tonight. I am confident I can guard us well until day comes. Have no fear on that score; after that, let whoever can save himself."
They all bowed to him and thanked him for it. Then they went to their beds, and it was not long before the handsome men had lain down. Bold Hagen, the hero, began to arm himself.
Then Volker the fiddler, the warrior, said: "If it is not beneath you, Hagen, I would like to keep the shield-watch with you tonight, until early morning." The hero thanked Volker warmly. "God in heaven reward you, dear Volker. In all my troubles I would want no one but you alone, wherever I was in peril. I will repay you well for it, unless death prevents me."
Then the two of them put on their bright armor. Each took his shield in his hand, and they went out of the house and stood before the door. There they kept watch over the guests; that was done out of loyalty. Swift Volker laid his good shield down against the wall of the hall. Then he went back inside and fetched his fiddle, and served his friends as well suited the hero. He sat down on the stone step in the doorway of the house. A bolder fiddler there never was. When the music of his strings rang out so sweetly, the proud warriors, so far from home, thanked Volker for it.
His strings rang until the whole house echoed with them; his strength and his skill were both great. Then he played sweeter and sweeter, and lulled many an anxious man to sleep in his bed. When they had fallen asleep and he could see it, the warrior took up his shield again in his hand, went back to the room and stood in front of the door, and guarded the men far from home against Kriemhild's men.
Toward the middle of the night — I do not know, it may have been earlier — bold Volker saw a helmet gleam far off in the dark. Kriemhild's men would gladly have done the guests harm. The fiddler said: "Hagen, my friend, this is a worry we should carry together. I see armed men standing near the house, and if I am not mistaken, I think they mean to attack us."
"Then keep quiet," said Hagen, "and let them come closer to us before they notice us. Then helmets will be knocked askew by the swords in our two hands, and they will be sent back to Kriemhild in a sorry state."
One of the Huns' warriors saw very quickly that the door was guarded. How fast he spoke then: "What we had in mind cannot be done. I see the fiddler standing on the shield-watch. He wears a gleaming helmet on his head, bright and hard, strong and whole, and the rings of his mail shine like fire. Hagen is standing beside him. The guests are well guarded."
They turned back at once. When Volker saw it, he spoke angrily to his companion: "Now let me go out to those warriors in front of the house. I want to ask Lady Kriemhild's men a question or two."
"No, for my sake," said Hagen. "If you leave the house, those swift warriors will very likely bring you into such peril with their swords that I would have to help you, even if it meant the death of all my kinsmen. And once the two of us were caught up in the fight, two or four of them would run into the house in no time and do such harm to the sleeping warriors that we could never grieve for it enough."
Volker answered: "Then at least let us make sure they know I have seen them, so that Kriemhild's men cannot deny they would gladly have done a treacherous thing." And at once Volker called out to them: "Why are you walking about in armor like that, you swift warriors? Are you riding out to rob somebody, you men of Kriemhild? Then you should take me and my comrade along to help."
No one answered him. He was furious. "Shame on you, you miserable cowards!" said the good hero. "Did you mean to murder us in our sleep? That has very seldom been done to heroes as good as these."
The queen was told exactly how her messengers had come back with nothing done. She had good reason to be sorry, and she arranged it another way, for her mood was grim. Because of that, bold good heroes would die in the end.
"My coat of mail is growing cold," said Volker. "I think the night is almost over. I can feel it in the air: it will soon be day." Then they woke the many men who still lay sleeping.
The bright morning shone into the hall on the guests. Hagen went about waking the knights, asking whether they wanted to go to the cathedral for Mass. The bells were already ringing, in the Christian way. Christians and pagans sang differently there, and that showed clearly enough: they were not of one mind. Gunther's men wanted to go to church, and they had all risen from their beds together.
The warriors laced themselves into such fine clothes that no heroes ever brought better ones into any king's land. That troubled Hagen. He said: "Heroes, you ought to be wearing other clothes here. You know the news well enough by now. Instead of roses, carry weapons in your hands; instead of jeweled garlands, your bright good helmets, since we know only too well what wicked Kriemhild has in mind. We will have to fight today, I tell you. Instead of silk shirts, wear your coats of mail; instead of rich cloaks, your good broad shields, so that if anyone turns on you in anger, you are fully armed.
"My dear lords, and my kinsmen and vassals, go to church of your own free will, and lay your worry and your peril before almighty God; and know for certain that death is drawing near us. Do not forget whatever you have done, either, and stand before God with all your heart. I warn you of this, noble warriors: unless God in heaven wills otherwise, you will never hear Mass again."
So the princes and their men went to the cathedral. In the holy churchyard bold Hagen made them halt, so that they would not get separated. He said: "No one knows yet what will happen to us at the hands of the Huns. Set your shields down in front of your feet, my friends, and if anyone offers you a cold greeting, pay him back with deep and deadly wounds. That is Hagen's advice: that you are found standing as your honor demands."
Volker and Hagen, the two of them, went and stood in front of the wide cathedral door. They did it so that the king's wife would have to push past them; truly, she was in a grim mood. Then the lord of the land came, and his beautiful wife with him, her body decked in rich clothes, and many swift warriors could be seen walking with her. You could see the dust rising high from Kriemhild's company.
When the mighty king saw the kings and their followers armed like that, how quickly he spoke: "Why do I see my friends going about in helmets? On my loyalty, it grieves me if anyone has done them any harm. I will gladly make it good, however they think best. If anyone has weighed down their hearts or their spirits, I will show them plainly that it grieves me very much. Whatever they ask of me, I am ready to do it all."
Hagen answered: "No one has done us any harm. It is my lords' custom to go armed at every festival for three full days. If anyone did anything to us here, we would tell Etzel."
Kriemhild heard very well what Hagen said. How full of hate was the look she gave him from under her brows! But she would not reveal the custom of her own land, though she had known it long enough in Burgundy. However grim and strong her hatred of them, if anyone had told Etzel the truth of the matter, he would surely have prevented what happened there later. Out of their great arrogance, not one of them told him.
A great crowd went past with the queen, but those two would not step aside for them by so much as two hands' breadth. That annoyed the Huns: they had to shove their way past the proud heroes. Etzel's chamberlains did not like it at all. They would have liked to pick a quarrel with the warriors, but they did not dare in front of the noble king. So there was a great deal of shoving, and nothing more.
When they had served God and were ready to leave, many a Hun hurried to his horse. Many beautiful girls stood beside Kriemhild, and a good seven thousand warriors rode with the queen. Kriemhild sat down at the windows with her ladies, beside mighty Etzel; he was glad of that. They wanted to watch the proud heroes ride. Hey, what a crowd of foreign warriors rode in the courtyard before them!
The marshal had come too, with the squires: bold Dankwart had brought his lord's household with him from the land of Burgundy. The horses were found well saddled for the bold Nibelungs. When the kings and their men had reached their horses, strong Volker advised them to ride a buhurt after the custom of their own land. Later the heroes rode it magnificently. They did not mind at all what the hero had advised. The buhurt and the noise of it both grew loud; many a man came out into the wide courtyard, and Etzel and Kriemhild watched it themselves.
Six hundred of Dietrich's warriors rode into the buhurt to face the guests. They wanted some sport with the Burgundians, and if he had allowed it they would gladly have had it. Hey, what good warriors came riding after them! But Lord Dietrich was told of it, and he forbade them the game with Gunther's men. He was afraid for his men, and he had good reason to be.
When the men of Bern had ridden off, Rüdiger's men came from Pöchlarn, five hundred of them under their shields, riding in front of the hall. The margrave would have been glad if they had let it be. He rode to them wisely through the throng and told his warriors to be aware that Gunther's men were in a dangerous temper; if they left the buhurt alone, he would take it kindly.
When those proud heroes had parted from them, the men of Thuringia came, as we have been told, and the men of Denmark, a good thousand bold men. You could see the splinters of broken lances flying from the thrusts. Irnfried and Hawart rode into the buhurt. The men from the Rhine were waiting for them proudly, and they offered the Thuringians many a joust. Many a lordly shield-rim was pierced through by their thrusts.
Then Lord Blödel came with three thousand. Etzel and Kriemhild watched him closely, for the knightly sport was taking place right in front of them both. The queen watched it gladly, hoping for harm to the Burgundians. Schrutan and Gibeche, Ramung and Hornboge rode into the buhurt in the Hunnish style. They held their ground against the heroes from the land of Burgundy, and the lance-shafts whirled high over the wall of the king's hall.
Whatever anyone did there, it was nothing but noise. You could hear the great hall and the palace ringing loudly with the shields Gunther's men struck. His household won praise there with great honor. Their sport was so hard and so long that the white sweat ran out from under the trappings of the good horses the heroes rode. They tried their luck against the Huns in a very high-handed way.
Then the bold warrior Volker the minstrel said: "I do not think these warriors dare to stand against us. I have always heard it said that they hate us; truly, it could never come about better for them than now. Have the horses led to our lodgings," Volker went on, "and let us ride again toward evening, when the time comes. Perhaps the queen will give the prize to the Burgundians."
Then they saw a knight riding up so showily that none of all the Huns could match him. He surely must have had a sweetheart at the time; he was dressed as finely as a noble knight's bride. Volker said again: "How could I let that pass? That ladies' darling is going to get a knock. No one can stop it: it will cost him his life. I do not care if King Etzel's wife is angry about it."
"No, for my sake," the king said at once. "People will blame us if we attack them. Let the Huns begin it; that will suit us far better." King Etzel was still sitting beside the queen.
"I will add to the buhurt," said Hagen. "Let the ladies and the warriors see how we can ride; that is a good thing to do. They will give no prize to King Gunther's men anyway."
Swift Volker rode back into the buhurt. Later that brought many a woman great grief: he drove his spear through the rich Hun's body. Both maid and wife were seen weeping over it later. Hagen and his men, sixty of his warriors, came riding hard after the fiddler, to where the game was being played. Etzel and Kriemhild saw it quite plainly. The three kings would not leave their minstrel unguarded among the enemy. A thousand heroes rode there with great force; they did what they wanted, in their high-handed way.
When the rich Hun was struck dead, you could hear his kinsmen shouting and lamenting. The whole household cried out, "Who did this?" and the answer came: "The fiddler did it, Volker, the bold minstrel." The margrave's kinsmen from the land of the Huns called at once for swords and shields; they wanted to strike Volker dead. The host came hurrying down from a window as fast as he could.
An uproar rose from the people on every side. The kings and their followers dismounted in front of the hall, and the Burgundians pushed their horses to the rear. Then King Etzel came, and the lord set about parting them. He wrenched a strong weapon out of the hand of one of the Hun's kinsmen whom he found near him, and drove them all back, for he was very angry. "How I would have wasted all my service on these heroes if you killed this minstrel here beside me," said King Etzel. "That would be a crime. I saw very well how he rode when he ran the Hun through: it happened by a stumble, through no fault of his. You must leave my guests in peace." So he became their escort. The horses were led away to the lodgings; they had many squires there, ready and eager for every kind of service.
The host went into the great hall with his friends, and he let no more anger break out there. Then the tables were set and water was brought for them. The men from the Rhine had plenty of strong enemies in that room.
It was a long while before the lords sat down. Kriemhild's worry was pressing her too hard. She said: "Prince of Bern, I come to you for advice, for help and favor. My affairs stand in a fearful state."
Hildebrand, that praiseworthy warrior, answered her: "Whoever strikes at the Nibelungs does it without me, whatever treasure he is offered for it. He may come to regret it: those swift proud knights are still unbeaten."
Then Lord Dietrich said, with his courteous manners: "Let that request be, mighty queen. Your kinsmen have done me no such wrong that I should want to fight those bold warriors. The request does you little honor, noble prince's wife, that you plot against your own kinsmen's lives. They came into this land trusting in good faith. Siegfried will not be avenged by Dietrich's hand."
When she found no treachery in the man of Bern, she quickly promised into Blödel's hand a rich march that Nudung had once held. Later Dankwart killed him, so that he quite forgot the gift. She said: "You must help me, Lord Blödel. My enemies are in this house, the men who killed Siegfried, my dear husband. Whoever helps me avenge that, I will be in his debt forever."
Blödel answered her: "Lady, you should know that I dare not advise any hatred against them, for fear of Etzel. He is very glad to see your kinsmen here. If I did them any harm, the king would never forgive me."
"Not so, Lord Blödel; I will always be your friend. I will give you silver and gold as your reward, and a beautiful girl, Nudung's bride, so that you can take your pleasure in that lovely body of hers. The land and the castles, I will give you all of it, so that you can live in joy forever, noble knight, if you win the march where Nudung sat. Whatever I promise you today, I will keep in loyalty."
When Lord Blödel heard the reward, and that the lady would suit him well for her beauty, he thought to serve the lovely woman by fighting. For that the warrior had to lose his life. He said to the queen: "Go back into the hall. Before anyone notices, I will raise an uproar. Hagen shall pay for what he did to you; I will hand King Gunther's man over to you bound."
"Now arm yourselves," said Blödel, "all my men. We are going to the enemy in their lodgings. Etzel's wife will not let me out of this, and so we heroes must all put our lives at stake."
When the queen had left Blödel set on fighting, she went to the table with King Etzel and his men. She had laid savage plans against the guests.
Since the fight could be started in no other way — Kriemhild's old grief lay buried in her heart — she had Etzel's son carried to the table. How could a woman ever do anything more terrible for revenge? Etzel's men went at once and carried Ortlieb, the young king, to the princes' table, where Hagen was sitting too. Because of that the child had to die, through Hagen's murderous hatred.
When the mighty king saw his son, he spoke kindly to his wife's kinsmen: "Now look, my friends: this is my only son, and your sister's too. That may be a good thing for all of you. If he takes after his family, he will grow into a bold man, rich and very noble, strong and handsome. If I live a while yet, I will give him twelve lands; then noble Ortlieb's hand may serve you well. So I ask you gladly, my dear friends: when you ride home to your lands on the Rhine, take your sister's son with you, and treat the child with great kindness, and bring him up in honor until he becomes a man. If anyone in your lands has done you any wrong, he will help you avenge it, once he is grown." Kriemhild, King Etzel's wife, heard those words too.
"These warriors might well put their trust in him," said Hagen, "if he grew to be a man. But the young king looks so marked for death that you will seldom see me going to court to wait on Ortlieb."
The king looked at Hagen; the words grieved him. Though the noble prince said nothing about it, it troubled his heart and weighed on his spirit. Hagen was in no mood for amusement. It pained all the princes, and the king with them, that Hagen had spoken that way about his child. That they had to put up with it sat badly with them. They did not yet know what would happen to them later through that warrior.
Blödel's warriors were all ready. A thousand coats of mail strong, they made their way to where Dankwart sat at table with the squires. There the deadliest hatred of all broke out between heroes. When Lord Blödel walked up to the tables, Dankwart the marshal greeted him with every courtesy: "Welcome to this house, my lord Blödel. Truly, your coming surprises me. What is this about?"
"You need not greet me," said Blödel, "for my coming here means your end. Because of your brother Hagen, who killed Siegfried, you will pay for it here among the Huns, and plenty of other warriors with you."
"No, Lord Blödel," said Dankwart. "If that is so, we may soon regret this journey to court. I was a small child when Siegfried lost his life. I do not know what King Etzel's wife holds against me."
"I have nothing more to tell you about it. Your kinsmen Gunther and Hagen did the deed. Now defend yourselves, you men far from home; you cannot survive. Your lives are the forfeit Kriemhild demands."
"Since you will not turn back," said Dankwart, "I am sorry I pleaded with you. I should have saved my breath." The swift, bold warrior sprang up from the table and drew a sharp weapon, big and long. He struck Blödel a swift sword-stroke, and in a moment Blödel's head lay at his feet. "Let that be your morning gift," said Dankwart the warrior, "for Nudung's bride, the one you wanted to take in love. Tomorrow they can marry her to some other man, and if he wants the bride-price, he will get the same." A very loyal Hun had told him what great wrongs the queen was plotting against them.
When Blödel's men saw their lord lying dead, they would not stand for it from the guests any longer. With raised swords they rushed at the young men in a grim fury. Many of them came to regret it later.
Dankwart shouted to the whole company: "You can see, noble squires, how this is going to go. Now defend yourselves, you men far from home! Truly, we have no choice, however kindly noble Kriemhild invited us here."
Those who had no swords reached down in front of the benches and lifted many a long footstool by its legs. The Burgundian squires were not going to put up with it, and with the heavy stools they beat many a dent through a helmet. How fiercely those young strangers defended themselves! At last they drove the armed men out of the house, but five hundred of them or more stayed behind inside, dead. The company was red and wet with blood.
The grim news was carried to Etzel's warriors. It was bitter grief to them that Blödel and his men had been killed, and that Hagen's brother and the squires had done it. Before the queen even heard of it, the Huns in their hatred armed two thousand men or more. They went for the squires — there was no stopping it now — and left not one of that company alive.
The treacherous Huns brought a great army up before the house. The squires, far from home, stood their ground well; but what good was their quick courage? They had to lie dead. And within a short while after that, a terrible calamity began. Here you can hear wonders told of a monstrous thing: nine thousand squires lay dead, and with them twelve knights, Dankwart's own men. He was seen standing all alone among the enemy.
The uproar had died down, the din had gone quiet, when Dankwart the warrior looked back over his shoulder. "Alas for the friends I have lost," he said. "Now, to my grief, I must stand alone among my enemies."
The swords fell thick and fast on his one body; later many a hero's wife would weep for it. He raised his shield higher and lowered the strap, and he made many a mail-ring run wet with blood. "Oh, the sorrow of it," said Aldrian's son. "Now give way, you Hunnish warriors. Let me out into the wind, so the air can cool a man worn out with fighting." And then they saw the warrior walk out, every inch a lord.
As the battle-weary man sprang out of the house, how many fresh swords rang on his helmet! Those who had not seen what wonders his hand could do came rushing at the man from Burgundy. "I wish to God," said Dankwart, "that I had a messenger who could let my brother Hagen know that I am standing in such peril in front of these warriors. He would get me out of here, or lie dead beside me."
The Hunnish warriors said: "You will have to be the messenger yourself, when we carry you dead to your brother. Then Gunther's vassal will know grief for the first time. You have done King Etzel great harm here."
"Stop your threatening," he said, "and stand farther back. I will make the mail wet on a few more of you yet. I will carry the news to court myself, and I will tell my lords my great trouble."
He made himself so feared among Etzel's men that they dared not face him with swords. Instead they shot so many spears into his shield that for sheer weight he had to let it fall from his hand. Now that he carried no shield, they thought they would overpower him. Hey, what deep wounds he struck through their helmets! Many a bold man had to stagger before him, and strong Dankwart won great praise for it.
They sprang at him from both sides, and truly, every one of them came into that fight too soon. He went before his enemies like a wild boar heading for the woods in front of the hounds. How could a man be braver? His path was wet all over again with hot blood. No single warrior could ever have fought better against his enemies than he did. And so they saw Hagen's brother walk to court like a lord.
The stewards and cupbearers heard the clang of swords. Many of them flung down the drink from their hands, and the dishes they were carrying to court. In front of the stairs he met plenty of strong enemies. "What is this, you stewards?" said the weary warrior. "You should be looking after the guests, and carrying good food to the lords, and letting me tell my lords the news as it really is."
Whoever was brave enough to spring at him on the stairs, he dealt some of them such a grim sword-swing that out of fear they had to back up higher. His great courage had worked great wonders that day.
When bold Dankwart came in through the door, he told Etzel's household to step back out of his way. All his clothing was running with blood, and he carried a mighty weapon bare in his hand. Dankwart shouted to the warrior: "You have been sitting here far too long, brother Hagen. To you and to God in heaven I cry out our distress: the knights and the squires lie dead in their lodgings."
Hagen called back to him: "Who did this?"
"Lord Blödel did it, he and his men. And he has paid dearly for it, I can tell you that: with my own hands I struck his head off."
"That is small harm," said Hagen, "when the story told of a warrior is that he lost his life at a warrior's hands. Lovely women will have all the less cause to mourn him. Now tell me, brother Dankwart, why are you so red? I think your wounds are giving you great trouble. If the man who did this to you is anywhere in this land, it will cost him his life, unless the foul devil saves him."
"You see me unhurt. My clothes are wet with blood, but it is other men's wounds that did that — I have killed so many of them today that if I had to swear to the number, I could never tell it."
"Brother Dankwart," he said, "then guard the door for us, and do not let a single Hun out through it. I want to speak with these warriors, since our need forces us to. Our household lies dead in front of them, and they never deserved it."
"If I am to be the chamberlain," said the bold man, "I know how to serve such mighty kings. I will keep the stairs as my honor requires." Nothing could have been less welcome to Kriemhild's warriors.
"I wonder very much," Hagen went on, "what the Hun warriors in here are whispering about. I think they would gladly do without the man standing at that door — the one who has just brought the Burgundians the news from court. For a long time now I have heard it said of Kriemhild that she would not let her heartbreak go unavenged. Let us drink to the dead, and pay for the king's wine! The young lord of the Huns shall be the first."
Then Hagen, that good hero, struck the child Ortlieb, so that the blood ran down the sword to his hand and the head sprang into the queen's lap. At that a murderous slaughter broke out among the warriors, grim and great. Next, with both hands, he dealt the tutor who had charge of the child a swift blow, so that his head quickly lay on the floor in front of the table. It was a wretched reward he paid the tutor. He saw a minstrel sitting at Etzel's table. Hagen in his rage went straight for him and struck off his right hand on the fiddle. "Take that as your message to the land of the Burgundians."
"Oh, my hand!" said Werbel the minstrel. "Sir Hagen of Tronje, what did I ever do to you? I came in good faith to your lords' land. How am I to play the tunes now that I have lost my hand?"
Hagen cared little whether he ever fiddled again. Then he dealt out murderous wounds in that hall to Etzel's warriors, and killed a great many of them; he brought people enough in that house to their deaths. Volker the swift sprang up from the table; his fiddle bow rang out loud in his hand. Gunther's minstrel played roughly. Ha, what enemies he made himself among the bold Huns!
The three noble kings sprang up from the tables too. They would gladly have stopped the fight before more harm was done, but with all their wits they could not prevent it, once Volker and Hagen had begun to rage so terribly. When the lord of the Rhine saw that the fight could not be parted, the prince himself cut many a wide wound through his enemies' bright mail rings. He was a hero with his hands, and he made that very plain. Strong Gernot came into the fight as well, and truly he struck many a Hun hero dead with a sharp sword that Rüdiger had given him. He did Etzel's warriors terrible harm. Lady Ute's young son sprang into the fight; his weapon rang splendidly through the helmets of Etzel's warriors from the land of the Huns. Bold Giselher's hand did great wonders there. Brave as they all were, the kings and all their men, still it was Giselher you saw standing in front of them all against the enemy. He was a good hero: with the wounds he gave, he made many a man fall down in the blood.
Etzel's men defended themselves hard too. But you could see the guests go hewing their way with their bright swords through the king's hall, and on every side you could hear the great clash of weapons. Those outside wanted to be in there with their kinsmen, and at the tower doorway they got very little for their trouble; those inside would gladly have been out of the hall, but Dankwart let none of them up the stairs or down them. So a mighty press grew up in front of the tower, and a great ringing of helmets under the swords. Bold Dankwart came into great peril from it, and his brother worried for him, as his loyalty required.
Hagen called loudly to Volker: "Do you see my brother standing over there, comrade, in front of the Hun warriors under heavy blows? Friend, save my brother for me, before we lose the warrior."
"I will, for certain," said the minstrel, and he went fiddling his way through the great hall, a hard sword ringing often in his hand. The warriors from the Rhine thanked him warmly. Bold Volker said to Dankwart: "You have had a very hard time of it today. Your brother asked me to come to your help. If you will hold the outside, I will stand inside."
Dankwart the swift stood outside the door and defended the stairs against anyone who came up them; you could hear the weapons ring in the heroes' hands. Inside, Volker of the land of Burgundy did the same. The bold fiddler shouted over the crowd: "The hall is well locked, friend Hagen. Truly, Etzel's door is barred by two heroes' hands as well as a thousand bolts could bar it."
When Hagen of Tronje saw the door so well guarded, the famous good hero slung his shield onto his back. Only now did he begin to avenge what had been done to him. His enemies had no hope of any kind of coming out alive.
When the lord of Bern saw clearly that strong Hagen was breaking so many helmets, the king of the Amelungs sprang up on a bench and said: "Hagen is pouring the very worst drink of all here."
The host was in great fear, as he had good reason to be, with so many dear friends being snatched from him before his eyes; he himself barely got away from his enemies alive. He sat there in dread. What good did it do him that he was king?
Mighty Kriemhild cried out to Dietrich: "Help me, noble knight, help me get out of here alive, by the virtue of all the princes of the Amelung land! If Hagen reaches me, I am as good as dead."
"How am I to help you, noble queen?" said Lord Dietrich. "Now I am afraid for myself. Gunther's men are so bitterly enraged that at this moment I cannot protect anyone."
"No, no, Lord Dietrich, noble good knight! Show your knightly spirit today and help me out of here, or I shall be left here dead." Kriemhild's fear was driving her very hard.
"I will try, and see if I can help you. For in many a year I have never seen so many good knights so bitterly enraged." Truly, he saw the blood spring from the swords through the helmets.
The chosen warrior began to shout with all his strength, so that his voice rang out like a bison's horn and the castle far and wide resounded with the force of it. Dietrich's strength was beyond all measure.
Gunther heard the man shouting in the hard fighting, and he began to listen. He said: "Dietrich's voice has reached my ears. I think our warriors have taken someone from him here. I see him up on the table; he is waving with his hand. You friends and kinsmen from the land of Burgundy, hold off from the fighting! Let us hear and see what my men have done to the warrior."
When King Gunther asked it and commanded it, they held their swords back in the heat of the fight. That was power indeed, that no one struck a blow there. Then he asked the man from Bern for his news quickly enough. He said: "Most noble Dietrich, what has been done to you here by my kinsmen? I am willing to make amends to you, and I am ready for peace. Whatever anyone may have done to you, it would grieve me to the heart."
Then Lord Dietrich said: "Nothing has been done to me. Let me go out of this house under your safe conduct, away from this hard fight, with my household. I will serve you forever for it, I promise you."
"Why are you running away so soon?" said Wolfhart. "Truly, the fiddler has not barred the door so tight that we cannot open it wide enough to get out through it."
"Hold your tongue," said Lord Dietrich. "You have done the devil's own work."
Then King Gunther said: "I will allow it. Lead out of this house whoever you like, few or many — all but my enemies. They must stay here. They have done me such bitter wrong here among the Huns."
When Dietrich heard that, he put his arm around the noble queen, whose fear was great. With his other arm he led Etzel out with him, and six hundred fine men went out with Dietrich too.
Then the margrave, noble Rüdiger, said: "If any more of those who would gladly serve you are to come out of this house, let us hear it. Then a lasting peace will stand between good friends, as it should."
Giselher of the land of Burgundy answered him: "Peace and friendship you shall have from us, since you are steadfast in your loyalty, you and your men. You may go out of here with your kinsmen without any fear."
When Lord Rüdiger left the hall, five hundred men or more followed him out, kinsmen and vassals of the lord of Pöchlarn. Later Rüdiger suffered great harm from the king.
Then a Hun warrior saw Etzel walking close beside Dietrich, and wanted to join them. The fiddler gave him such a blow that his head soon lay at Etzel's feet.
When the lord of the land had come out of the house, he turned around and looked at Volker. "Oh, these guests of mine! This is a grim calamity, that all my warriors are to die before them. Oh, this festival!" the noble king said. "There is one fighting in there called Volker — he fights like a wild boar, and he is a minstrel. I thank my luck that I escaped that devil. His tunes sound ugly, and his bow-strokes are red. Truly, his music strikes many a hero dead. I do not know what this minstrel has against us, but I never had a guest I liked so little."
They had let out of the hall the ones they wanted to let out. Then a tremendous din rose inside. The guests took hard revenge for what had been done to them before. Bold Volker — ha, what helmets he broke!
Noble King Gunther turned toward the noise. "Do you hear the tunes, Hagen, that Volker is fiddling over there with the Huns, whoever comes to the tower door? It is a red rosin he has on his fiddle bow."
"I regret beyond all measure," said Hagen, "that I ever took a seat in the hall above that warrior. I was his comrade and he was mine, and if we ever get home again, we shall still be comrades, in all loyalty. Now look, noble king: Volker is devoted to you. He earns your silver and your gold with a will. His fiddle bow cuts through the hard steel; he breaks the bright, shining ornaments off the helmets. I never saw a fiddler stand so splendidly as the warrior Volker has stood today. His tunes ring through helmet and shield-rim. Truly, he deserves to ride good horses and wear splendid clothes."
Of all the Huns' kinsmen who had been in the hall, not one inside it was left alive now. So the din died away, since no one was fighting with them anymore, and the bold, high-hearted warriors laid their swords down out of their hands.
Worn out, the lords sat down. Volker and Hagen went out in front of the hall and the two proud men leaned on their shields, and there was a good deal of sharp talk between them.
Then Giselher of Burgundy, the warrior, said: "Dear friends, you cannot rest yet. You must carry the dead out of the hall. We are going to be attacked again, I tell you truly. They must not lie here under our feet any longer. Before the Huns overwhelm us by storm, we will hew some wounds yet, and that will do me good. I have my mind firmly set on it," said Giselher.
"Lucky me, to have such a lord," said Hagen. "The advice my young lord has given us today would suit no one but a warrior. Every one of you Burgundians can be glad of it."
They followed his advice and carried seven thousand dead to the door and threw them out. They fell to the ground in front of the hall stairs, and a great cry of grief went up from their kinsmen. Some of them were so lightly wounded that, handled more gently, they would have recovered; the high fall left them dead. Their friends grieved for that, and truly they had cause.
Then Volker the fiddler, a gallant hero, said: "Now I see for myself the truth of what I was told. The Huns are cowards; they wail like women. They would do better to look after the badly wounded."
A margrave thought he meant that kindly. He saw one of his kinsmen lying in the blood, wrapped his arms around him and started to carry him away. The bold minstrel shot him dead over the body. When the others saw that, they turned and ran, and all of them cursed that same minstrel. He snatched up a javelin, very sharp and hard, that a Hun had thrown up at him, and hurled it with all his strength out across the courtyard, far over the heads of Etzel's men. That sent them looking for a place to stand farther from the hall. Everywhere, people feared his great strength.
Many thousands of men were standing in front of the hall. Now Volker and Hagen began to tell King Etzel everything that was on their minds; the bold good heroes came to grief for it later.
"It would suit the leaders of this people very well," said Hagen, "to fight in the front rank, the way every one of my lords here does. They hew through the helmets, and the blood runs after their swords."
Etzel was so bold that he grabbed his shield. "Go carefully now," said Lady Kriemhild, "and offer the warriors gold over your shield-rim instead. If Hagen gets to you over there, you have death in your hand." The king was so brave that he would not turn back — a rare thing nowadays from so mighty a prince. They had to drag him back by his shield-strap. And grim Hagen began to taunt him again.
"That was a distant kinship," said Hagen the warrior, "that Etzel and Siegfried shared. He loved Kriemhild before she ever laid eyes on you. Wretched king, why are you plotting against me?"
The noble king's wife heard what he said, and it tormented Kriemhild that he dared insult her like that in front of Etzel's men. So she began plotting against the guests once more. She said: "Whoever kills Hagen of Tronje for me and brings me his head, I will fill Etzel's shield with red gold for him, and give him fine castles and lands besides as his reward."
"Now I know what they are waiting for," said the minstrel. "I never saw heroes stand there like such cowards, with pay that high on offer. Truly, Etzel should never be kind to them again. The men who eat the prince's bread so shamefully and now fail him in his greatest need — I see plenty of them standing here like cowards, and they still want to be counted as brave. Shame on them forever."
Then Margrave Iring of Denmark called out: "I have set my whole life on honor for a long time now, and in the storm of battle I have done as well as the best. Now bring me my weapons. Truly, I mean to take on Hagen."
"I would advise against that," said Hagen. "Better tell the Huns' warriors to stand further back. If two or three of you jump into the hall, I will send them back down the stairs in a very sorry state."
"That will not make me give it up," said Iring. "I have tried things just as dangerous before. Truly, I will take you on with my sword, you alone. What good is all the bragging you have done with words?"
Then the warrior Iring was quickly armed, and Irnfried of Thuringia, a bold young man, and the very strong Hawart, with a good thousand men. Whatever Iring set out to do, they all meant to stand by him in it. The fiddler saw a very large company coming up in arms with Iring, with many a good helmet laced on their heads, and bold Volker grew more than a little angry at that.
"Do you see Iring walking over there, friend Hagen, the one who vowed to take you on alone with his sword? How does lying suit a hero? I call it a disgrace. A good thousand warriors or more are coming with him, armed."
"Do not call me a liar," said Hawart's vassal. "I will gladly do what I have vowed, and I will not back out of it from any fear. However terrible Hagen may be, I will take him on alone."
Iring went down on his knees to his kinsmen and his men, asking the warriors to let him fight alone. They did it unwillingly, for they knew arrogant Hagen of the Burgundian land only too well. But he begged them so long that in the end it happened: when his household saw what he wanted, and that he was striving for honor, they let him go. And then those two fought a grim fight.
Iring of Denmark carried his spear high and covered himself with his shield, that splendid, noble warrior, and ran up at Hagen in front of the hall, and a great roar went up from the warriors. They hurled their spears with all the strength of their arms, through the strong shields and onto the bright armor beneath, so that the shafts went spinning high in the air; and then the two grim, bold men reached for their swords. Bold Hagen's courage was very great; but Iring struck at him so hard that the whole building rang, and hall and towers echoed with their blows. Still, the warrior could not get what he wanted.
Iring left Hagen standing there unwounded and rushed at the fiddler instead. He thought he could beat him down with his hard blows, but the warrior Volker knew well how to defend himself. Then the fiddler struck a blow that sent the clasps of Iring's shield flying over its rim, and Iring let him be — he was a dangerous man — and ran at Gunther of Burgundy. Each of them was strong enough for a fight, but whatever blows Gunther and Iring gave each other, they drew no flowing blood from any wound. Their armor prevented that; it was strong and good.
He left Gunther and ran at Gernot, and began hewing fire out of the rings of his mail; and strong Gernot of Burgundy came very near to striking bold Iring dead. But Iring sprang away from the prince — he was quick enough — and in a flash the hero killed four Burgundians, men of the noble household of Worms on the Rhine. Giselher had never been angrier in his life.
"God knows, Lord Iring," said young Giselher, "you shall pay me for the men who have just fallen dead in front of you." Then he ran at him and struck the Dane so that he could not move from the spot. He went down into the blood in front of Giselher's hands, and they all believed the good hero would never strike another blow in battle. But Iring lay there in front of Giselher without a wound. From the crash of the sword and the ringing of his helmet, his senses had gone so weak that the bold warrior no longer knew he was alive. Strong Giselher's strength had done that to him.
When the ringing he had taken from that great blow began to clear from his head, he thought: "I am still alive, and not wounded anywhere. Now for the first time I know what Giselher's courage is." He heard his enemies standing on both sides of him; if they had known the truth, more would have been done to him. He could hear Giselher close by him too, and he thought about how he could get away from his enemies. How wildly he sprang up out of the blood! He had his quickness to thank for it. He ran out of the house to where he found Hagen again, and struck him grim blows with his strong arm.
Hagen thought: "You are going to die. Unless the foul devil protects you, you cannot come out of this alive." But Iring wounded Hagen through the hood of his helmet; the hero did that with Waske, a sword that good. When Lord Hagen felt the wound, the sword began to swing terribly in his hand, and Hawart's vassal had to give way before him, down the stairs, with Hagen coming after him. Bold Iring swung his shield over his head, and had that staircase been three staircases long, Hagen would not have let him land a single blow the whole way. Hey, what red sparks flew above his head!
Iring got back to his own men in one piece, and Kriemhild soon heard the whole story of what he had done to Hagen of Tronje in the fight. The queen began to thank him warmly for it. "God reward you, Iring, you famous good hero. You have put heart and courage back into me. Now I see Hagen's clothes red with blood." And out of sheer joy Kriemhild took the shield from his hand herself.
"Go easy with your thanks to him," said Hagen. "If he wanted to try it again, that would be worthy of a warrior; and if he came away from it alive, then he would be a bold man. The wound I took from him does you little good. Seeing the rings of my mail red from my wound has only roused me to the deaths of many men. Now for the first time I am angry, like a man who knows no fear. The warrior Iring has done me very little harm so far."
Iring of Denmark stood in the wind, cooling himself in his mail, and unlaced his helmet. Everyone there said his courage was good, and the margrave's spirits rose high at that. Then Iring spoke again: "My friends, be sure of this: arm me again quickly. I mean to try harder, and see whether I can still beat that arrogant man." His shield was hacked to pieces, and he got a better one.
The warrior was very soon armed again, and better than before. In his hatred he took a very strong spear, meaning to take on Hagen with it once more, over there; and the murderous, grim man waited for him like an enemy. The warrior Hagen could not bear to wait for him. He ran to meet him, throwing and striking, right to the foot of the stairs; his rage was great. Iring's strength did him very little good then. They struck through each other's shields until it began to blaze in fire-red gusts, and Hawart's vassal was gravely wounded by Hagen's sword, through shield and through mail. He never recovered from it.
When the warrior Iring felt the wound, he pulled his shield up higher over his helmet straps. He thought the harm he had taken there was the full measure of it; but King Gunther's vassal did him worse afterward. Hagen found a spear lying at his feet. He hurled it at Iring, the hero of Denmark, so that the shaft stood out of his head. The warrior Hagen had brought him to a grim end.
Iring had to fall back to the men of Denmark. Before they had even unlaced the warrior's helmet, they broke the spear out of his head, and death was already drawing near him. His kinsmen wept at that; they had reason enough. Then the queen came and bent over him. She began to lament strong Iring and wept over his wounds; she grieved for him bitterly. And in front of his kinsmen the bold, brave warrior said:
"Let the lamenting be, noble lady. What good is your weeping? Truly, I must lose my life from the wounds I have taken. Death will not let me serve you and Etzel any longer." To the men of Thuringia and the men of Denmark he said: "None of you must take the queen's gift, her bright red gold, in return for this. If you take on Hagen, you will have to look death in the face."
His color had drained away; bold Iring bore the mark of death, and it was grief enough to them. Hawart's vassal could not live, and then the men of Denmark had to go to battle. Irnfried and Hawart sprang toward the hall with a good thousand heroes. A huge, raging din was heard on every side, powerful and loud. Hey, what sharp spears were hurled at the Burgundians!
Bold Irnfried ran at the minstrel, and got great harm at his hands: the noble fiddler struck the landgrave through his strong helmet — truly, he was grim enough. Then Lord Irnfried struck the bold minstrel so hard that the clasps of his mail burst and his coat of mail was showered with fire-red sparks. All the same, the landgrave fell dead at the fiddler's hands.
Hawart and Hagen had come together. Anyone watching would have seen wonders: the swords fell thick and fast in the heroes' hands. Hawart had to die at the hands of the man from the Burgundian land. When the Danes and the Thuringians saw their lords dead, a terrible struggle rose in front of the hall before they won the door with brave hands; many a helmet and shield-rim was hacked apart in that fight.
"Give way," said Volker, "and let them come in. What they have in mind will never be finished otherwise. They will have to die in here in a very short time; with their deaths they will earn what the queen is giving them."
When the arrogant men came into the hall, many a head was bowed so low that its owner had to die from the Burgundians' swift blows. Bold Gernot fought well, and so did the warrior Giselher. A thousand and four came into the house, and many a swift sword-stroke was seen flashing; in the end the warriors were all slain inside. Great wonders could be told of the Burgundians.
After that a silence fell, as the noise died away. The blood of the dead men ran out everywhere through the openings and down to the gutter-stones. The men from the Rhine had done that with their great courage. Then the men of Burgundy sat down to rest again. They laid their weapons and their shields out of their hands. But the bold minstrel still stood in front of the tower, watching in case anyone else wanted to come at them in battle.
The king grieved bitterly, and so did his wife; the girls and the ladies tormented themselves with grief. I think Death itself had sworn an oath against them: many more of the warriors were still to be lost there at the guests' hands.
"Now unlace your helmets," said Hagen the warrior. "My comrade and I will keep watch over you, and if Etzel's men want to try us again, I will warn my lords the moment I can."
Then many a good knight bared his head. They sat down on the wounded, who had fallen into the blood in front of them, killed by their own hands. The noble guests were watched with evil eyes. Before evening came, the king and the queen too saw to it that the Hunnish warriors made a better try of it. A good twenty thousand of them could be seen standing before the guests; they had to go into the fight. At once a hard storm broke against the guests. Dankwart, Hagen's brother, that very swift man, sprang from his lords' side to meet the enemy outside the door. Everyone thought he was dead, but he came back through unharmed. The hard fight lasted until night put an end to it. The guests defended themselves against Etzel's men the whole summer-long day, as good heroes should. Oh, how many bold warriors lay dead before them! It was at midsummer that this great murder happened, when Lady Kriemhild avenged her heart's grief on her closest kinsmen and on many another man; and King Etzel never knew joy again because of it.
The day had run out on them, and they were in fear and peril. They thought a quick death would be better for them than to be tormented a long time with monstrous suffering. So those proud, fine knights asked for a truce. They asked that the king be brought to them. Out of the hall stepped the heroes, the color of blood and the color of their armor, the three noble kings. They did not know who to complain to about their very great hurt. Etzel and Kriemhild both came there. The land was theirs, so their numbers kept growing. Etzel said to the guests: "Now tell me, what do you want of me? You think you can win a truce here; that would be hard to do, after harm as great as you have done me. You shall get nothing by it, as long as I have my life. My child, whom you killed, and so many of my kinsmen — for that, truce and reconciliation shall be flatly denied you."
Gunther answered: "Great need forced us to it. All my household lay dead in the lodgings before your heroes. How had I deserved that? I came to you in good faith; I thought you were my friend."
Then young Giselher of Burgundy said: "You heroes of Etzel's who are still alive here — what do you blame me for, warriors? What have I done to you? I rode into this land as a friend."
They said: "Your friendliness has filled this whole castle with misery, and the land with it. Truly, we would have been glad if you had never come from Worms across the Rhine. You and your brothers have left this land full of orphans."
Then Gunther the warrior said angrily: "If you would set this bitter hatred aside and make peace with us warriors who are so far from home, that would be good for both sides. We have done nothing to deserve what Etzel is doing to us."
Then the host said to his guests: "My grief and yours are not alike at all. The great hardship, the loss and the shame on top of it, that I have taken here — for that, not one of you shall ever leave here alive."
Then strong Gernot said to the king: "Then may God command you to act with honor. Kill us, who are far from home; but let us first come down to you into the open. That would do you honor. Whatever is going to happen to us, let it happen quickly. You have so many men still unhurt, who dare to take us on; they will not let us battle-weary men live. How long must we warriors go on in this hardship?"
Etzel's warriors had almost agreed to it; they were going to let them come out of the hall. Kriemhild heard that, and it was deeply hateful to her. So the men far from home were refused their truce too soon.
"No, no, you Hunnish warriors! What you have in mind — I advise you in true loyalty, do not do it. Do not let those murderers out of the hall, or your kinsmen will suffer a deadly fall. If none of them were left alive but Ute's sons, my noble brothers, and they got out into the breeze and cooled their mail rings, you would all be lost. Bolder warriors were never born into the world."
Then young Giselher said: "My beautiful sister, my trust was badly repaid when you invited me from across the Rhine here to this land, into this great peril. How have I earned death here from the Huns? I was always loyal to you; I never did you any wrong. I rode here to this land on one hope: that you still loved me, my dear sister. Think of us with mercy; there is nothing else to be done now."
"I cannot show you mercy. I have none. Hagen of Tronje has done me such great wrong that it can never be made right as long as I live. You must all pay for it," said King Etzel's wife. "If you will give me Hagen alone as a hostage, I will not refuse to let you live, for you are my brothers and children of one mother. Then I will speak of peace with these heroes who are here."
"God in heaven forbid," said Gernot. "If there were a thousand of us, we would all lie dead, we of your own blood, before we gave you a single man as hostage. It will never be done."
"We have to die in any case," said Giselher. "No one is going to part us from a knight's defense. Whoever wants to fight us — well, we are still here. For I never failed a friend of mine in loyalty."
Then bold Dankwart spoke; it would not have suited him to keep quiet. "Truly, my brother Hagen does not stand alone. Those who refuse us the truce here may yet be sorry for it. I will make you well aware of that, I tell you truly."
Then the queen said: "You fine heroes, now go closer to the stairs and avenge my wrongs. I will always repay you for it, as by right I should. I will pay Hagen back for his arrogance. Do not let a single one of them out of the house." She ordered the hall to be set on fire at all four ends. "Then all my wrongs will be well avenged." Etzel's warriors were quickly ready.
Those of the guests who still stood close by outside were driven into the hall with blows and missiles; the noise of it was very great. But the princes and their men would not be parted; for their loyalty they could not leave one another. Then King Etzel's wife had the hall set alight, and the warriors' bodies were tortured there with fire. A wind caught the house and very soon the whole of it was burning. I do not think any people ever knew greater fear.
Many inside cried out: "Oh, this misery! We would far rather have died in the fighting. God could have pity on it, how we are all lost! Now the queen is wreaking her anger on us without measure."
One of them inside said: "We are going to lie dead here. What good to us now is the greeting the king sent us? The thirst from this terrible heat hurts me so badly that I think my life will soon end in this misery."
Then Hagen of Tronje said: "You noble good knights, whoever is tormented by thirst, let him drink the blood here. In heat like this it is better than wine. There is nothing better to be had just now."
Then one of the warriors went to where he found a dead man. He knelt down by the wound, unlaced his helmet, and began to drink the flowing blood. Unused to it as he was, it seemed very good to him.
"God reward you, Sir Hagen," said the weary man, "that I have drunk so well at your advice. I have seldom been served better wine. If I live any while longer, I will always be your friend."
When the others heard that it had seemed good to him, there were many more of them who drank the blood too. Some of them got great strength from it. Later many a lovely woman paid for that in dear kinsmen.
The fire kept falling on them in the hall, and they turned it aside with their shields and down to the floor. The smoke and the heat both hurt them badly. I do not think such misery will ever come to heroes again.
Then Hagen of Tronje said: "Stand close to the walls of the hall. Do not let the burning brands fall on your helmet straps; tread them down into the blood with your feet. It is an evil festival the queen is giving us."
In such suffering the night at last wore away. Still the bold fiddler stood outside the house, and Hagen his comrade with him, leaning on the rims of their shields. They expected more harm from the men of Etzel's land.
Then the fiddler said: "Now let us go into the hall. Then the Huns will think we are all dead of the torment that has been done to us. They will yet see a good few of us warriors standing against them in the fight."
Then young Giselher of Burgundy said: "I think it is going to be day; a cooler wind is rising. Now may God in heaven let us live to see a happier time. My sister Kriemhild has given us a wretched festival."
Then another said: "I can make out the day. Since nothing can be better for us now, arm yourselves, heroes, and think of your lives. Truly, King Etzel's wife will be at us again soon."
The host fully expected that the guests were dead from their hardship and the terror of the fire. But six hundred bold men were still alive in there, and no king ever had better warriors. Those set to guard the men far from home had seen clearly that the guests still lived, however much harm and grief had been done to the lords and their men. They could be seen standing in the hall, still sound and well. Kriemhild was told that a great many of them had survived. The queen said: "That can never be, that any of them should have lived through the terror of that fire. I would sooner believe they all lie dead."
The princes and their men would still gladly have lived, if anyone had been willing to show them mercy. But they could find none among the men of the Huns' land. So they avenged their own dying with very ready hands.
That day, toward morning, they were offered a greeting of hard battle, and it brought heroes into peril. Many a hard spear was flung at them, and the bold, proud warriors defended themselves like knights. Etzel's household were in high spirits over it: they meant to earn Kriemhild's gold, and to carry out, besides, what the king commanded. Many of them would soon have to look death in the face for it. Of the promises and the gifts there are wonders to tell. She had the red gold carried in on shields, and she gave it to anyone who cared for it and would take it. Truly, greater pay was never offered against enemies. A great force of warriors went armed toward the hall.
Then bold Volker said: "Well, we are still here. I never saw heroes come more gladly to a fight than these who have taken the king's gold to do us harm."
Then plenty of them called out: "Closer, heroes, closer! Let us earn what we are to earn, and do it in good time. No one stays here except the man who has to die anyway." Soon their shields could be seen stuck full of thrown spears.
What more can I say? A good twelve hundred men tried them hard, surging back and forth. The guests cooled their fury well with wounds. No one could part the fight, and the blood could be seen flowing. Many a man there was struck with a deadly deep wound. Each man could be heard grieving bitterly for his friends. All the great king's brave warriors died, and their loving kinsmen had terrible sorrow for them.
The strangers had done well toward morning. Gotelind's husband came to court, and when he saw the grievous losses on both sides, good Rüdiger wept from his heart. "How wretched I am," said the warrior, "that I was ever born, since no one can stop this great misery. However much I want to make peace, the king will not do it, for he sees the sufferings of his people growing greater and greater."
Good Rüdiger sent to Dietrich to ask whether they could still turn the fate of the noble kings. The lord of Bern sent back his answer: "Who could stop it? King Etzel will let no one part the fighting."
A Hun warrior saw Rüdiger standing there with weeping eyes — he had shed many tears — and said to the queen: "Now look how he stands there, the man who holds the greatest power here at Etzel's side, the man whom people and lands all serve. How is it that so many castles have been turned over to Rüdiger, when he holds so many of them from the king? In all this fighting he has not struck one praiseworthy blow. It seems to me he does not care how things go here, since he has all he wants. People say he is braver than anyone could be. That has shown itself badly in this trouble."
In sorrow the loyal man looked at the one he heard say this. He thought: "You will pay for that. You say I am a coward; you have told your tale too loudly at court." He clenched his fist and ran at him and struck the Hun so hard that he lay dead at his feet in an instant. And so King Etzel's distress was greater again.
"Away with you, you notorious coward," said Rüdiger. "I have grief and pain enough already. Why do you reproach me for not fighting here? Truly I have good cause to hate the guests, and I would have done everything I could against them — except that I am the one who brought these warriors here. I was their escort into my lord's land, and so this wretched hand of mine shall not fight them."
Then King Etzel said to the margrave: "A fine help you have been to us, noble Rüdiger! We have so many doomed men in this land already that we had no need of more. You have done very wrong."
The noble knight answered: "He insulted me, and threw in my face the honor and the goods I have taken in such plenty from your hands. That turned out a little unlucky for the liar."
Then the queen came; she too had seen what the hero's anger had done to the Hun. She lamented it beyond measure, and her eyes grew wet. She said to Rüdiger: "How have we deserved this, that you add to the sorrows of the king and me? Until now, noble Rüdiger, you have always told us you would risk your honor and your life for us. I have heard many warriors give you the highest praise. I remind you of the favor you promised me, and of what you swore to me, chosen knight, when you counseled me to take Etzel: that you would serve me until one of us died. Never has a poor woman been in such need of it as I am now."
The margrave answered: "There is no denying it. I swore to you, noble lady, that I would risk my honor and my life for your sake. That I would lose my soul, I never swore. It was I who invited the highborn princes to this feast."
She said: "Remember, Rüdiger, your great loyalty, your constancy and your oaths: that you would always be the first to right my wrongs, and avenge every grief of mine." The margrave said: "I have seldom refused you anything."
Mighty Etzel began to plead as well, and the two of them fell at the warrior's feet. The noble margrave stood there in anguish, and the loyal warrior spoke in the bitterest misery: "Oh, God help me, wretched man that I am, that I ever lived to see this! I must give up all my honor, and the loyalty and the good breeding that God commanded of me. Oh, God in heaven, that death does not come and turn this from me! Whichever I leave undone and whichever I take up, I shall have acted badly and wickedly; and if I leave them both, the whole world will curse me. May he who gave me life show me what to do."
The king and his wife kept begging him, hard. Because of it, warriors would soon lose their lives at Rüdiger's hands, and there the hero died himself. You will hear now how wretchedly he went about it. He knew he would win nothing but harm and monstrous grief. He would gladly have refused the king, and the queen too; he feared bitterly that if he killed a single one of them, the whole world would hate him.
Then the brave man said to the king: "Sir King, take back everything I hold from you — the land and the castles. Let none of it remain to me. I will go on foot into exile."
King Etzel said: "Who would help me then? The land and the people — I give it all to you outright, so that you avenge me on my enemies, Rüdiger. You shall be a mighty king beside Etzel."
Rüdiger answered: "How can I set about it? I invited them home to my own house; I offered them food and drink as a friend, and I gave them my gifts. How can I plot their deaths? People may easily think I am a coward. I have never refused the noble princes and their men any service of mine; and now the friendship I made with them grieves me. I gave my daughter to the warrior Giselher. She could not have been better bestowed in all this world — for breeding and for honor, for loyalty and for wealth. I never saw so young a king so nobly minded."
Kriemhild said again: "Most noble Rüdiger, take pity on the suffering of us both, mine and the king's. Think well on this: no host ever had such deadly guests."
The margrave answered the noble woman: "Today Rüdiger's life must pay for whatever kindness you and my lord have ever shown me. For that I must die; it can be put off no longer. I know well that this very day my castles and my lands will fall back to you by the hand of one of those men. I commend my wife and my children to your mercy, and the strangers too, the exiles who are at Pöchlarn."
"Now God reward you, Rüdiger," said the king, and he and the queen were both glad. "Your people shall be well cared for by us. And I trust my own good fortune that you yourself will come through alive."
So he laid soul and body in the balance. Etzel's wife began to weep. He said: "I must keep my word to you as I promised. Alas for my friends, whom I attack so unwillingly!"
He was seen going from the king in deep sorrow. He found his warriors standing close by, and said: "Arm yourselves, all my men. To my grief, I must fight the bold Burgundians."
They had the squires run at once to where their weapons were kept; helmet or shield-rim, the household brought it all out to them. Soon the proud exiles heard sorrowful news. Rüdiger was armed now, with five hundred men, and besides them he won twelve warriors to his help, who wanted to earn fame in the peril of battle. They did not know that death was so close to them.
Then Rüdiger was seen going under his helmet. Rüdiger's men carried sharp swords, and in front of them their bright broad shields. The fiddler saw it, and it grieved him deeply.
Young Giselher saw his father-in-law coming with his helmet laced on. How could he understand what he meant by it, except that he meant all good? The noble king's heart was glad. "What friends we have won on this journey," said the warrior Giselher. "My wife's family will do us a great deal of good here. On my loyalty, I am glad the match was ever made."
"I do not know where you find your comfort," said the minstrel. "When did you ever see so many heroes come for the sake of peace with their helmets laced on and swords in their hands? Rüdiger means to earn his castles and his lands at our expense."
Before the fiddler had finished speaking, noble Rüdiger was seen in front of the hall. He set his good shield down in front of his feet; now he had to refuse his friends both service and greeting. The noble margrave called into the hall: "Bold Nibelungs, now defend yourselves on every side. You should have profited by me; now you pay for me. Once we were friends. I want to be free of that loyalty."
The hard-pressed men were dismayed at this news; none of them found any joy in it that the man they loved now meant to fight them. They had already endured great hardship from their enemies. "God in heaven forbid," said the warrior Gunther, "that you should turn from your kindness to us, and from the great loyalty that we truly counted on. I trust you will never do it."
"I cannot leave it undone," said the brave man. "I must fight you, for I have given my word. Now defend yourselves, bold heroes, as you love your lives. King Etzel's wife would not release me."
"You turn against us too late," said the noble king. "May God reward you, noble Rüdiger, for the loyalty and the love you have shown us — if only you would act with kindness to the end. We should always be in your debt, I and my kinsmen, for what you gave us, if you let us live: the splendid gifts you brought us here, in loyalty, into Etzel's land. Think of that, noble Rüdiger."
"How gladly I would grant you," said the warrior Rüdiger, "that I might give you my gifts in full measure, as freely as I once hoped to — if only I would never be blamed for it."
"Turn back, noble Rüdiger," said Gernot. "No host ever treated his guests as lovingly as you treated us. You will profit from it well, if we stay alive."
"Would to God, most noble Gernot," said Rüdiger, "that you were on the Rhine and I were dead with some honor, since I must fight you. No friends ever did worse by heroes."
"God reward you, Lord Rüdiger," Gernot answered, "for your rich gifts. Your death grieves me, if such goodness as yours is to perish. Here I carry your weapon, the one you gave me, good hero. It has never failed me in all this peril; under its edges lies many a knight dead. It is bright and true, splendid and good. I believe no warrior will ever give so rich a gift again. And if you will not turn back, if you mean to come at us, and you kill any of the friends I still have in here, then with your own sword I will take your life. Then I will be sorry for you, Rüdiger, and for your splendid wife."
"Would to God, Lord Gernot, that it could happen: that your whole will were done here, and your friends came out of it alive! Then both my daughter and my wife could trust you well."
Then young Giselher, beautiful Ute's son, spoke for Burgundy: "Why do you do this, Lord Rüdiger? Those who came with me all wish you well. You are setting about this badly; you want to make your beautiful daughter a widow too soon. When you and your warriors attack me in battle, how unfriendly you make it look — I who trust you above all other men, and that is why I took your daughter for my wife."
"Remember your loyalty, most noble king, and if God lets you leave this place," said Rüdiger, "do not let the young lady pay for me. For your own goodness' sake, be gracious to her."
"That I would do, and rightly," said young Giselher. "But if my high kinsmen who are still in here are to die at your hands, then my steadfast friendship for you, and for your daughter too, must be at an end."
"Now may God have mercy on us," said the brave man. Then they raised their shields, as if to go and fight the guests in Kriemhild's hall. But Hagen called down loudly from the top of the stairs: "Wait a while, most noble Rüdiger," said Hagen. "I and my lords want to say more, as our extremity forces us to. What good can the death of us exiles do Etzel? I stand in great trouble," Hagen went on. "The shield Lady Gotelind gave me to carry has been hacked to pieces in my hand by the Huns. I brought it in friendship into Etzel's land. If only God in heaven would grant that I might still carry a shield as good as the one in your hand, most noble Rüdiger! Then I would need no coat of mail in the fighting."
"Gladly would I serve you with my shield, if I dared offer it to you in front of Kriemhild. But take it, Hagen, and carry it on your arm. Ah, if only you could carry it home to the land of Burgundy!"
When he offered to give the shield so willingly, many eyes grew red with hot tears. It was the last gift that Rüdiger of Pöchlarn ever gave to any warrior. However grim Hagen was, and however hard his temper, the gift the good hero had made so near his last hour moved him. Many a noble knight began to grieve with him.
"God in heaven reward you, most noble Rüdiger. There will never be another like you, to give exiled warriors such splendid gifts. God grant that your goodness lives forever." "Alas for this news," said Hagen again. "We had so many other burdens to carry; must we fight with friends too? God be told of it." The margrave said: "It grieves me from my heart."
"God reward you for the gift, most noble Rüdiger. Whatever these proud warriors do toward you, my hand shall never touch you in this battle, even if you kill every one of them from the land of Burgundy."
Good Rüdiger bowed to him courteously. They wept on every side, that no one could part this heartbreak; it was a great misery. In Rüdiger the father of many virtues was about to die.
Then Volker the minstrel spoke from the hall: "Since my comrade Hagen has made peace with you, you shall have it just as steadfastly from my hand. You earned it well when we came into this land. Noble margrave, you shall be my messenger. The margravine gave me these red arm-rings, to wear here at the feast. See them for yourself, so that you can be my witness to it."
"Would to God in heaven," said Rüdiger, "that the margravine could give you more! I will gladly tell my dear love the news, if I see her alive again. Of that you may have no doubt."
When he had promised him that, Rüdiger raised his shield. His heart raged; he waited no longer. He ran at the guests like a true warrior, and the mighty margrave struck many a swift blow. The two of them, Volker and Hagen, stepped higher up the stairs, for the bold warriors had promised him that. But he still found men bold enough standing by the tower, so that Rüdiger began the fight with heavy care.
Bent on deadly revenge, Gunther and Gernot let him in; they had heroes' hearts. Giselher stood back higher up, and truly it grieved him. He still hoped to live, and so he kept clear of Rüdiger.
The margrave's men sprang at their enemies; they were seen following their lord like true warriors. They carried their cutting swords in their hands, and many helmets and many a splendid shield-rim broke under them. The weary men struck the men of Pöchlarn many a hard blow that cut clean and deep through the bright mail rings, right down to the life. They did splendid work in that storm of battle.
The noble company had now come all the way in. Volker and Hagen sprang into it at once; they gave quarter to no one but the one man. Blood ran down out of the helmets from the hands of both of them. How grimly the swords rang in there! The shield-plates burst from their fastenings under the blows, and the jewels hewn from the shields fell into the blood. They fought so grimly that no one will ever do the like again.
The lord of Pöchlarn went back and forth, as a man does who knows how to work with courage in battle. That day Rüdiger showed himself every inch a warrior, bold and worthy of praise. Here stood the warriors Gunther and Gernot; they struck many a hero dead in the fight. Giselher and Dankwart, the two of them, made light of it; they sent many a man to his last day.
Rüdiger showed well that he was strong enough, bold and well armed. Hey, what heroes he killed! A Burgundian saw it, and anger drove him; and from that, noble Rüdiger's death began to draw near.
Strong Gernot called out to the hero. He said to the margrave: "You will not leave me any of my men alive, most noble Rüdiger. That grieves me beyond measure; I can watch it no longer. Now your gift may well do you harm, since you have taken so many of my friends from me. Turn this way, noble, brave man: your gift shall be paid for as best I can."
Before the margrave could reach him, bright mail rings had to lose their color. Then the two men, hungry for honor, sprang at each other, and each began to guard himself against deep wounds. Their swords were so sharp that nothing could stand against them. Then the warrior Rüdiger struck Gernot through his flint-hard helmet, so that the blood flowed down. The bold good knight soon paid him back. He swung Rüdiger's gift high in his hand, and wounded to death as he was, he struck him one blow through his good shield, down to the helmet strap. From that, beautiful Gotelind's husband had to die.
Truly, so rich a gift was never worse repaid. They fell, both killed, Gernot and Rüdiger, alike in the fight, each by the other's hand. Only now did Hagen grow angry, when he saw the great loss.
The hero of Tronje said: "This has gone badly for us. In these two men we have suffered a loss so great that their people and their lands will never get over it. Rüdiger's heroes are forfeit to us exiles. Alas for my brother, who has been killed here! What grievous news comes to me all the time! And noble Rüdiger too I must mourn forever. The loss and the grievous wounds are on both sides."
When Lord Giselher saw his father-in-law dead, those still inside had to suffer for it. Death went hunting hard through Rüdiger's company; not one of the men of Pöchlarn was left alive.
Then Gunther and Giselher, and Hagen too, Dankwart and Volker, the good warriors, went to where they found the two men lying, and there the heroes wept in grief. "Death is robbing us cruelly," said young Giselher. "Now stop your weeping and let us go out to the air, so that the wind cools the mail on us battle-weary men. Truly, I think God in heaven does not grant us much longer to live."
Here one warrior sat and there another leaned, many of them; they were idle again, for Rüdiger's heroes lay dead. The din had died away. The silence lasted so long that it troubled Etzel.
"Alas for such service," said the king's wife. "It is not loyal enough to make our enemies pay with their lives at Rüdiger's hand. He means to bring them back to the land of Burgundy. What use is it, King Etzel, that we shared with him whatever he wanted? The hero has done wrong. The man who should avenge us is making peace." Volker, the fine warrior, answered her:
"The truth is not so, alas, most noble queen. If I dared to call so noble a lady a liar, I would say you have lied like a devil against Rüdiger. He and his warriors are quite cheated of any peace. He did what the king commanded so completely that he and his household lie dead here. Now look around you, Kriemhild, for someone else to command. The hero Rüdiger has served you to the end. If you will not believe it, we will let you see." To her heart's grief it was done: they carried the hewn hero to where the king could see him. Nothing so sorrowful had ever happened to Etzel's warriors.
When they saw the margrave carried in dead, no scribe could write or tell of the frenzied grief of women and men that began to show itself there, from the sorrow of their hearts. Etzel's grief grew so great that the mighty king's voice rang out like a lion's roar in heartbroken lament; and so did his wife's. Beyond all measure, they mourned good Rüdiger.
On every side you could hear grief so great that the hall and the towers rang with the wailing. One of Dietrich's men from Bern heard it too, and how fast he hurried off with this heavy news! He said to his prince: "Listen, my lord Dietrich. In all my life until now I have never heard a lament so impossible to bear as the one I have just heard. I think King Etzel himself has come to harm. How else could they all be in such distress? One of the two, the king or Kriemhild, lies dead, struck down by the bold strangers out of hatred. Many a fine warrior is weeping beyond all measure."
The hero of Bern said: "My dear men, do not be in too great a hurry. Whatever the warriors far from home have done here, they are in great danger now; let them have the benefit of the peace I offered them."
Bold Wolfhart said: "I will go over there and ask what they have done, and then I will tell you, my dear lord, just as I find it out, what this lament may be about."
Lord Dietrich said: "Where men expect anger, and rude questions are put to them on top of it, that can easily spoil good warriors' high spirits. No, Wolfhart, I do not want you to be the one who questions them."
He asked Helfrich to go over quickly and told him to find out, from Etzel's men or from the guests themselves, what had happened there; for no one had ever seen such grief among people. The messenger asked: "What has been done here?" One of them answered: "Whatever joy we had in the land of the Huns is utterly gone. Here lies Rüdiger, killed by Burgundian hands, and of those who came in with him not one has survived."
Helfrich could never have been sorrier. Never had he carried news so unwillingly; the messenger went back to Dietrich weeping bitterly. "What have you found out for us?" Dietrich said. "Why are you weeping so hard, warrior Helfrich?" The noble warrior said: "I have good reason to grieve. The Burgundians have killed good Rüdiger."
The hero of Bern said: "God forbid! That would be a terrible revenge, and the devil's own mockery. What has Rüdiger ever done to deserve that from them? I know very well that he is a friend to the strangers."
Wolfhart answered: "If they have done it, it must cost them all their lives. If we let it pass, we would be disgraced; good Rüdiger's hand has served us many a time."
The lord of the Amelungs ordered the matter looked into more carefully. In bitter grief he sat down in a window, and he asked Hildebrand to go to the guests and find out from them what had been done there. Master Hildebrand, that warrior bold in any storm of battle, carried neither shield nor weapon in his hand: he meant to go to the guests in the courteous way. For that his sister's son rebuked him. Grim Wolfhart said: "If you go over there unarmed, you will never get away without abuse; you will have to come back in disgrace. But if you go armed, every one of them will think twice about that."
So the wise man armed himself on the young man's advice. Before he knew it, all of Dietrich's warriors had put on their armor and stood with swords in their hands. The hero was sorry to see it; he would gladly have turned them back. He asked them where they meant to go. "We are coming with you. Then perhaps Hagen of Tronje will think twice before speaking to you with scorn, which he knows so well how to do." When he heard that, the warrior let them come.
Bold Volker saw the warriors of Bern, Dietrich's men, coming well armed, swords belted on and shields in their hands. He told his lords from the land of Burgundy. The fiddler said: "I see Dietrich's men coming over there in a very hostile way, armed and helmeted. They mean to attack us. I think it is going to go badly for us strangers."
At the same moment Hildebrand arrived. He set the rim of his shield down in front of his feet and asked Gunther's men: "Alas, you good heroes, what had Rüdiger done to you? My lord Dietrich has sent me here to you: if the hand of any of you has killed the noble margrave, as we have been told, we could never get over so great a sorrow."
Hagen of Tronje said: "The news is no lie. I would gladly wish for your sake that the messenger had deceived you, for love of Rüdiger, and that he were still alive, a man whom men and women alike may weep for forever."
When they heard for certain that he was dead, the warriors mourned him, as their loyalty required of them. You could see the tears running down over the beards and chins of Dietrich's warriors. Great sorrow had been done to them.
Sigestab, the duke of Bern, said: "Now there is an end to the comfort Rüdiger gave us after our days of sorrow. The joy of a whole people far from home lies killed in Rüdiger."
Wolfwin, the warrior of the Amelungs, said: "If I saw my own father dead today, I could not be sorrier than I am for his life. Alas, who will comfort the noble margrave's wife now?"
The warrior Wolfhart said in an angry mood: "Who will lead the warriors now on so many a campaign, as the margrave so often did? Alas, noble Rüdiger, that we have lost you like this!"
Wolfbrand and Helfrich and Helmnot too, with all their kinsmen, mourned his death. Hildebrand could ask no more for sighing. He said: "Now, warriors, do what my lord has sent us here for. Give us Rüdiger's dead body out of the hall, the man in whom all our joy lies fallen in grief, and let us repay him for the great loyalty he always showed to us and to many another man. We are exiles too, as the warrior Rüdiger was. Why do you keep us waiting? Let us carry him away, so that we can still repay him after his death. We ought by rights to have done it while he was alive."
King Gunther said: "No service was ever as good as the one a friend does for a friend after his death. I call that steadfast loyalty, in whoever can do it. You are right to repay him; he has shown you much love."
"How long are we to go on begging?" said the warrior Wolfhart. "Since our best comfort lies dead by your hands, and we sadly can never have him again, let us carry him out of here so that we can bury the warrior."
Volker answered: "No one is going to give him to you. Take him from the house where the warrior lies fallen in the blood with his deep wounds. Then it will be a full service that you do for Rüdiger."
Bold Wolfhart said: "God knows, sir minstrel, you had better not provoke us; you have done us wrong enough. If I dared, in front of my lord, you would be in trouble. We have to let it be, because he has forbidden us to fight here."
The fiddler said: "A man has far too much fear if he gives up everything he is forbidden. I cannot call that a true hero's spirit." Hagen thought his comrade's words were well said.
"Do not let that trouble you," said Wolfhart. "I will put your strings so badly out of tune that you will have something to tell about it when you ride home to the Rhine. I cannot put up with your arrogance and keep my honor."
The fiddler said: "If you throw my strings off their good tune, the shine of your helmet will have to go very dull at my hand, however I ride home to the land of Burgundy."
Then he wanted to spring at him, but his uncle Hildebrand would not let him; he gripped him hard. "I think you would go mad with your foolish temper. You would have lost my lord's favor forever."
"Let the lion go, master; he is in such a fierce mood," said Volker the good warrior. "If he comes within reach of my hands, even if he had killed the whole world with his own hand, I will strike him so that he never tells the story afterward."
At that the men of Bern grew very angry. Wolfhart, a swift good warrior, snatched up his shield and ran at him in front of the others like a wild lion, and his friends came hard after him. But however great the strides he took toward the wall of the hall, old Hildebrand caught him before the steps; he did not want him to get into the fight ahead of himself. They found what they were looking for among the strangers soon enough.
Master Hildebrand sprang at Hagen. You could hear the swords ring in both their hands. They were in a fury; that was plain to see afterward, for a fire-red wind came off the two men's swords. They were parted in the press of the battle by the men of Bern, as their strength demanded. At once Hildebrand turned away from Hagen, and strong Wolfhart ran at bold Volker. He struck the fiddler on his good helmet so that the sword's edge bit through to the clasps. The bold minstrel repaid that with courage: he struck Wolfhart so that the sparks flew off him. They hewed plenty of fire from each other's mail, for each of them hated the other. Then Wolfwin, the warrior of Bern, parted them — if he were not a hero, he could never have done it.
Gunther the warrior received the famous heroes from the land of the Amelungs with a very willing hand. Lord Giselher made many a shining helmet red and wet with blood. Dankwart, Hagen's brother, was a grim man. Whatever he had done before to Etzel's warriors in battle was nothing but wind: now bold Aldrian's son fought in a rage. Ritschart and Gerbart, Helfrich and Wichart had very seldom spared themselves in many a battle, and they made Gunther's men well aware of it. Wolfbrand could be seen going splendidly through the fight. Old Hildebrand fought as if he were mad. Many good warriors had to fall dead into the blood at Wolfhart's hand, cut down by swords. So the bold good warriors avenged Rüdiger.
Lord Sigestab fought as his courage told him to. Hey, what good helmets of his enemies Dietrich's sister's son split in that fight! He could never have done better in battle. When strong Volker saw bold Sigestab hewing a stream of blood from the hard mail-rings, the hero grew angry. He sprang to meet him, and there Sigestab very quickly lost his life at the fiddler's hands: Volker gave him such a share of his art that he had to lie dead by his sword. Old Hildebrand avenged that, as his courage demanded.
"Alas for my dear lord," said Master Hildebrand, "who lies dead here at Volker's hand. Now the fiddler shall live no longer." How could bold Hildebrand ever have been fiercer? He struck Volker so that the helmet-clasps flew on every side to the walls of the hall, off the bold minstrel's helmet and shield. That was how strong Volker met his end.
Then Dietrich's men pressed into the fight. They struck so that mail-rings flew far away and you could see sword-points fly high through the air, and they drew a hot stream of blood out of the helmets. Hagen of Tronje saw Volker dead. That was the greatest sorrow he had suffered at this whole festival, in kinsman or in vassal. Alas, how fiercely Hagen began to avenge the hero! "Old Hildebrand shall not profit by this. My help lies killed by the hero's hand, the best comrade I ever won." He raised his shield higher and went off hewing.
Bold Helfrich killed Dankwart. Gunther and Giselher were sorry enough when they saw him fall in that great extremity; but he had well avenged his own death with his hands. Meanwhile Wolfhart went back and forth, hewing all the while at Gunther's men. He had come through the hall for the third time, and many a warrior fell at his hands.
Lord Giselher called out to Wolfhart: "Alas, that I ever won so grim an enemy! Noble bold knight, now turn and face me. I will help to end this; it cannot go on any longer."
Wolfhart turned to Giselher in the fight, and each struck the other many a wide wound. He drove at the king with such force that the blood under his feet sprayed up over his head. With swift grim blows beautiful Ute's son received bold Wolfhart. However strong the warrior was, he could not survive: no king so young could ever have been bolder. He struck Wolfhart through his good coat of mail so that the blood ran down from the wound; he wounded Dietrich's man to the death. Truly, no one but a hero could have done it.
When bold Wolfhart felt the wound, he let his shield fall and lifted a strong weapon higher in his hand — it was strong enough — and the hero struck Giselher through helmet and mail-rings. They had each dealt the other a grim death. Now not one of Dietrich's men was left alive. Old Hildebrand saw Wolfhart fall; I think nothing so painful had ever happened to him in his life.
Now Gunther's men were all dead, and Dietrich's too. Hildebrand had gone to where Wolfhart had fallen down into the blood, and he took the bold good warrior in his arms. He wanted to carry him out of the house, but he was a little too heavy, and he had to let him lie. Then the stricken man looked up out of the blood. He saw very well that his uncle would gladly have helped him away.
The mortally wounded man said: "My dear uncle, you cannot be of any use to me now. Guard yourself against Hagen; that seems good advice to me. He carries a grim spirit in his heart. And if my kinsmen want to mourn me after my death, tell the nearest and the best of them from me not to weep for me; there is no need for that. I lie here gloriously dead at a king's hands. And I have paid for my life in here so dearly that the wives of good knights may well weep for it. If anyone asks you about it, you can say straight out: a good hundred lie killed by my hand alone."
Then Hagen too remembered the minstrel, whose life bold Hildebrand had taken. He said to the warrior: "You will pay for my sorrows. You have robbed us here of many a fine warrior." He struck at Hildebrand so that you could plainly hear Balmung ring — the sword bold Hagen had taken from Siegfried when he killed the hero. The old man defended himself; truly, he was bold enough. Dietrich's warrior swung a broad weapon, one that cut terribly, at the hero of Tronje, but he could not wound Gunther's man. Then Hagen struck him through his well-made coat of mail. When old Hildebrand felt the wound, he feared more harm from Hagen's hand. Dietrich's man threw his shield over his back, and with his deep wound the hero escaped from Hagen.
Now none of all those warriors was alive except the two alone, Gunther and Hagen. Old Hildebrand went streaming with blood to where he found Dietrich, and brought him the painful news. He saw the man sitting there in sorrow; and now the prince gained far more sorrow still. He saw Hildebrand in his red coat of mail, and he asked for the news, as his fear drove him to.
"Now tell me, Master Hildebrand, how do you come to be so wet with lifeblood? Who did that to you? I think you have been fighting with the guests in the hall. I forbade you so strictly; you should rightly have kept away from it."
He told his lord: "Hagen did it. He gave me this wound in the hall as I was trying to turn away from the warrior. I barely escaped from the devil with my life."
The lord of Bern said: "It serves you right. You heard me promise those warriors friendship, and you broke the peace I had given them. If it were not an everlasting shame to me, you would lose your life for it."
"Do not be so angry, my lord Dietrich. The harm to me and my kinsmen is far too great already. We wanted to carry Rüdiger away, and King Gunther's men would not allow it."
"Oh, what grief is mine! Is Rüdiger really dead? That is a sorrow to me beyond all my other distress. Noble Gotelind is my aunt's child. Alas for the poor orphans there at Pöchlarn!" His death reminded him of loyalty and sorrow, and he began to weep hard; the hero had cause to. "Alas for the loyal hero I have lost! Truly I shall never get over the loss of King Etzel's vassal. Can you tell me the truth, Master Hildebrand: who was the warrior who killed him?" He said: "Strong Gernot did it, with all his might. And the hero fell dead at Rüdiger's hands too."
He said to Hildebrand: "Now tell my men to arm themselves quickly, because I mean to go over there, and have my bright battle gear brought to me. I will question the heroes from the land of Burgundy myself."
Master Hildebrand said: "Who is going to go with you? All the living men you have, you see standing here beside you. That is I, alone. The others are dead." Dietrich was shaken by the news, and well he might be, for he had never known such sorrow in all the world. He said: "If all my men are dead, then God has forgotten me, poor Dietrich. I was a mighty king, powerful and rich.
"How could it come about," Lord Dietrich said, "that they are all dead, those praiseworthy heroes, at the hands of men worn out by battle, who were themselves in such peril? If it were not for my ill luck, death would still be a stranger to them. Since my misfortune would not let it be otherwise, tell me: is any of the guests still alive?" Master Hildebrand said: "God knows, no one but Hagen alone, and Gunther the noble king."
"Alas, dear Wolfhart, if I have lost you, I may well be sorry I was ever born. Sigestab and Wolfwin and Wolfbrand too! Who will help me now to the land of the Amelungs? Helfrich the bold — is he killed too, and Gerbart and Wichart? How could I ever mourn them enough? This is the last day of my joys. Alas, that no one can die of grief!"
Then Lord Dietrich fetched his own armor, and Master Hildebrand helped him put it on. The powerful man lamented so loudly that the whole house rang with the force of his voice. Then he recovered a true hero's spirit. The good hero was armed now, in grim earnest; he took a strong shield in his hand, and he and Master Hildebrand went quickly from there.
Hagen of Tronje said: "I see Lord Dietrich coming this way. He means to fight us, after the great sorrow that has befallen him here. Today we shall find out who deserves to be called the best. However strong of body Lord Dietrich of Bern thinks himself, and however terrible, if he means to take revenge on us for what has been done to him" — so Hagen said — "I am quite ready to stand against him."
Dietrich and Hildebrand heard this. He came to where he found the two warriors standing outside the house, leaning against the hall, and Dietrich set his good shield down on the ground. In grief and sorrow he said: "Why have you done this, Gunther, mighty king, to me, an exile? What had I done to you? Of all my comfort I am left here alone. It did not seem enough to you, in that great extremity, when you killed the hero Rüdiger; now you have robbed me of every one of my men. Truly, I never did you heroes such a wrong. Think of yourselves and of your own grief, the death of your kinsmen and all the hardship — does it not weigh on the hearts of you good warriors at all? Oh, how heavily Rüdiger's death falls on me! Nothing so painful ever happened to any man in this world. You gave little thought to my suffering or to your own. Whatever kinsmen I had, you have killed them. Truly, I can never mourn my kinsmen enough."
"We are not as guilty as that," said Hagen. "Your warriors came to this house fully armed, in a great company. I think the story has not been told to you correctly."
"What else am I to believe? Hildebrand told me that when my warriors from the Amelung land asked you to give Rüdiger out of the hall, you offered the bold heroes nothing but mockery from up there on the stairs."
The king of the Rhine said: "They said they wanted to carry Rüdiger away. I ordered that refused — to spite Etzel, not your men — until Wolfhart began to hurl insults about it."
The hero of Bern said: "Then it had to be so. Gunther, noble king, by your good breeding, make up to me for the wrongs you have done me, and make such amends, bold knight, that I can give you credit for it. Give yourself up to me as a hostage, you and your man, and I will protect you as best I can, so that no one here among the Huns does you any harm. You will find nothing in me but loyalty and good faith."
"God in heaven forbid," said Hagen, "that two warriors should surrender to you who still stand armed and ready to fight you, and still walk so freely in front of their enemies."
"You should not refuse it," Dietrich said. "Gunther and Hagen, you have both so burdened my heart and my spirit that it would be only right for you to make it up to me. I give you my loyalty, and my hand on it: I will ride home with you to your own land. I will lead you there with honor, or lie dead myself, and for your sakes I will forget my own great suffering."
"Ask it no more," said Hagen. "It would not be a good story to tell of us, that two such bold men surrendered to you. And now there is no one to be seen beside you but Hildebrand alone."
Master Hildebrand said: "God knows, Sir Hagen, the hour is coming when you might be glad to take peace from a man who offers to keep it with you. You could well let my lord's terms content you."
"Yes, I would take the terms," said Hagen, "before I would run so shamefully out of a hall, Master Hildebrand, as you did here. I thought you could stand up to enemies better than that."
Hildebrand answered: "Why throw that at me? Who was it sat on his shield in front of the Waskenstein, in the Vosges, while Walther of Spain killed so many of his kinsmen? You have plenty to show on your own account."
Lord Dietrich said: "It does not suit heroes to bicker like old women. I forbid you, Hildebrand, to say another word. I am an exile, and great sorrows press on me. Let me hear, warrior Hagen," said Dietrich, "what you two swift fighters were saying when you saw me coming toward you armed. You said that you alone would stand against me in a fight."
"No one will deny you that," said Hagen the warrior. "I am willing to try it here with hard blows, unless Nibelung's sword breaks in my hand. It makes me angry that we two have been asked for as hostages."
When Dietrich heard Hagen's grim mood, the swift good warrior quickly snatched up his shield. How fast Hagen sprang at him from the stairs! Nibelung's good sword rang out loudly on Dietrich. Then Lord Dietrich knew well that the bold man was in a grim mood; the lord of Bern began to guard himself against the fearful blows. He knew Hagen well, that splendid warrior, and he feared Balmung too, a weapon strong enough. From time to time Dietrich struck back with cunning, until at last he overcame Hagen in the fight. He gave him a wound that was deep and long.
Then Lord Dietrich thought: "You are worn out by your ordeal. I would have little honor if you lay dead before me. I will try instead whether I can force you to be my hostage." That was done at his peril. He let his shield fall — his strength was great — and locked Hagen of Tronje in his arms. So the bold man was overpowered by him. Noble Gunther began to grieve at that.
Dietrich bound Hagen and led him to where he found the noble queen, and gave into her hand the boldest warrior who ever carried a sword. After her great sorrow she was glad enough. Etzel's wife bowed to the warrior for joy. "May your heart and body be forever blessed. You have made up to me for all my distress. I will serve you for it always, unless death prevents me."
Lord Dietrich said: "You must let him live, noble queen; and it may yet come about that he makes up to you for what he has done to you. He must not suffer for it that you see him standing here bound."
Then she had Hagen taken to a prison where he lay locked up and no one saw him. Gunther, the noble king, began to shout: "Where has the hero of Bern gone? He has done me wrong."
Lord Dietrich went out to meet him. Gunther's courage was worthy of praise: he waited no longer but ran out in front of the hall, and a tremendous clash rose from the swords of the two of them. However long Lord Dietrich had been praised, Gunther was so angry and so wild — after his great sorrow he was his deadly enemy — that it is still told as a wonder that Lord Dietrich came out of it alive. Both their courage and their strength were great. The great hall and the towers rang with the blows as they hewed with their swords at the good helmets. King Gunther had a lordly spirit. But the man of Bern overcame him, as had happened to Hagen before. The hero's blood could be seen flowing through the rings of his mail, from a sharp sword that Dietrich carried. Lord Gunther, for all his weariness, had defended himself with honor.
The lord was bound by Dietrich's hand, though kings should never suffer such bonds. Dietrich thought that if he let the king and his man go free, everyone they met would have to die at their hands. Dietrich of Bern took him by the hand and led him bound to where he found Kriemhild. With his suffering, much of her sorrow was over. She said: "Welcome, Gunther from the land of Burgundy."
He said: "I would bow to you, my dear sister, if your greeting could be kinder. I know you, queen, to be so angry in your heart that you give me and Hagen a very poor welcome."
The hero of Bern said: "Most noble king's wife, never were such good knights given as hostages as I have given you here, high lady. Now, for my sake, treat the exiles well." She said she would do so gladly. Then Lord Dietrich went away from the praiseworthy heroes with tears in his eyes. Later Etzel's wife took grim revenge: she took the lives of both those chosen warriors.
To make their captivity worse she kept them apart, so that neither saw the other again until she carried her brother's head to Hagen. Kriemhild's revenge was enough on both of them.
The queen went to where she saw Hagen. How full of hatred she was when she spoke to the hero: "If you will give me back what you have taken from me, you may still go home alive to the Burgundians."
Grim Hagen said: "You are wasting your words, most noble queen. I have sworn that I will never show the treasure as long as any of my lords is alive; so I will give it to no one."
"Then I will bring it to an end," said the noble woman. She ordered her brother's life taken. They struck off his head, and she carried it by the hair before the hero of Tronje. It was grief enough to him.
When the unhappy man saw his lord's head, the warrior said to Kriemhild: "You have brought it to an end exactly as you wanted, and it has turned out just as I thought it would. Now the noble king of Burgundy is dead, and young Giselher, and Lord Gernot too. No one knows where the treasure is now but God and me — and from you, she-devil, it will stay hidden forever."
She said: "Then you have paid me badly. So I will keep Siegfried's sword at least. My dear love carried it when I last saw him — the man whose loss broke my heart, and the fault was yours."
She drew it from the scabbard; he could not stop her. She meant to take the warrior's life. She lifted it with her hands and struck off his head. King Etzel saw it, and it was grief enough to him.
"Alas!" said the prince. "Now the very best warrior who ever went into battle or carried a shield lies dead at a woman's hands. However much I was his enemy, it grieves me deeply."
Old Hildebrand said: "She shall gain nothing by daring to kill him. Whatever comes to me of it — and though he himself brought me into deadly peril — still I will avenge the bold man of Tronje's death."
Hildebrand sprang at Kriemhild in a rage. He struck the queen a heavy swing of his sword. Her fear of Hildebrand gave her pain; what could it help her that she screamed so terribly? Now all those who were doomed lay dead there. The noble woman was hewn to pieces. Dietrich and Etzel began to weep; they mourned from the heart, both kinsmen and vassals.
Great honor lay there dead. All the people had grief and distress. The king's festival had ended in sorrow, as joy always turns to sorrow in the end. I cannot tell you what happened there after that, except that knights and ladies could be seen weeping, and the noble squires too, for the deaths of their dear kinsmen. Here the story ends: this is the fall of the Nibelungs.