Chapter IX: Book II (2)

The envoys guessed not why she could not leave Hagen of Trony at the Rhine. They knew it afterward to their cost, for, through him, many a knight was brought face to face with grim death.

Letters and greetings were given to them. They rode forth rich in goods, that they might live merrily by the way. They took leave of Etzel and his fair wife. Their bodies were adorned with goodly vesture.

Twenty-Fourth Adventure How Werbel and Schwemmel Brought the Message

When Etzel sent his fiddlers to the Rhine, the news flew from land to land. By means of swift messengers, he invited guests to his hightide. There many met their death.

The envoys rode from the country of the Huns to the Burgundians, even to the three noble kings and their men, to bid them to Etzel’s court, and hasted on the way. They came to Bechlaren, where they were well seen to, and nothing lacked to their entertainment. Rudeger and Gotelind, and the Margrave’s child also, sent their greeting by them to the Rhine. Not without gifts went Etzel’s men forth, that they might fare the better on the road. Rudeger commended him to Uta and her sons; never Margrave was so true to them as he. To Brunhild, likewise, they commended their true service and their steadfast faith and love. When the envoys had heard the message, they set out again, and the Margravine prayed God in Heaven to guard them.

Or they left Bavaria, swift Werbel sought out the bishop: what greeting he sent to his friends by the Rhine I know not. But he gave his red gold to the envoys out of love, and let them ride on. Bishop Pilgerin said, “Right gladly would I see my sister’s sons here. Seldom, alack! can I win to them at the Rhine.”

I cannot tell by what road they fared through the land; but none took from them their silver and fine clothes, for all feared the wrath of their master: the great king was mighty and of high lineage.

Within twelve days Werbel and Schwemmel reached Worms on the Rhine. And the king sand their men were told the news, that foreign envoys were come. Thereupon Gunther, the prince of the Rhine, began to question his folk, and said, “Who will tell us whence these strangers are come riding into the land?”

And none knew, till that Hagen of Trony saw the envoys, and said to Gunther, “We shall have news, I promise thee, for I have seen Etzel’s fiddlers here. Thy sister hath sent them. Let us welcome them right heartily for their master’s sake.”

They rode straight to the palace. Never goodlier show made the minstrels of a king. Gunther’s courtiers hasted to meet them, and gave them lodging, and bade see to their gear. Their travelling clothes were rich and well fashioned. With all honour they might have gone before the king therein. Yet they scorned to wear them at the court, and asked whether any desired them. There was no lack of needy folk, that took them gladly, and to these they were sent. Then the guests clad them in rich apparel, as beseemed the envoys of a king.

Etzel’s men got leave to go before Gunther. They that saw them rejoiced. Hagen sprang from his seat and ran to them, and received them lovingly, for which the youths thanked him. He asked for news of Etzel and his men, whereto the fiddlers made answer, “The land was never more prosperous, nor the people more joyful; know that of a surety.”

He led them before the king, through the hall full of folk, and the guests were well received, as envoys should ever be in foreign kings’ lands. Werbel found many a knight by Gunther.

The gracious prince greeted them, and said, “Ye are both welcome, Etzel’s minstrels, ye and your followers. Wherefore hath the mighty Etzel sent you into Burgundy?”

They bowed before him, and Werbel answered, “My dear master, and Kriemhild thy sister, commend their service to thee. With true intent they have sent us hither to you, O knights.”

Then said the noble prince, “I rejoice at the tidings. How fareth it with Etzel, and Kriemhild my sister?”

Whereto the fiddler answered, “Never was king of any land better or happier, nor his kinsmen nor vassals; know that for certain. Right glad were they when we set forth on this journey.”

“Thank him and my sister for their greeting. I rejoice that it is well with the king and his folk, for I asked, much fearing.”

The two young kings were also come in, and had heard the news for the first time. Giselher, the youth, was glad to see the envoys, for love of his sister, and said to them kindly, “Ye be heartily welcome. If ye came oftener to the Rhine, ye would find friends worth the seeing. Small ill should betide you here.”

“I trow it well,” answered Schwemmel. “Word of mine cannot tell thee how right lovingly Etzel commendeth him to thee, and eke thy sister, that is holden in high esteem. The king’s wife biddeth thee remember thy love and faith, and that thou wert ever true to her in heart and soul. And, first of all, we are sent to the king, to invite you to ride into Etzel’s land, and Sir Gernot with you. Mighty Etzel commanded me to say to you all that, even if ye desire not to see your sister, he would fain learn what wrong he hath done you, that ye are such strangers to him and his court. Had ye never known the queen, he deserveth no less of you than that ye come to see him. If ye consent to this, ye shall please him well.”

And Gunther answered, “A sennight from now I will let thee know what I and my friends have determined on. Go meanwhile to thy lodging and rest.”

But Werbel said, “Might we not, ere we seek repose, win audience of great Uta?”

Whereto the noble Giselher answered courteously, “None shall hinder you, for in this ye shall have done my mother’s will. For the sake of my sister, Queen Kriemhild, she will see you gladly. Right welcome shall ye be.”

Giselher brought them before the lady, who rejoiced to see envoys from the land of the Huns. Kindly and lovingly she greeted them, and the courtly messengers and good delivered their tidings. “My mistress commendeth to thee,” said Schwemmel, “her service and her true love. Could she but have sight of thee oftener, naught on earth were dearer to her.”

But the queen answered, “That cannot be. The noble king’s wife dwelleth, alack! too far from me. Blessed evermore be she and Etzel. Fail not to send me word of your departure, when ye are about to return home. It is long since envoys were so welcome as ye are.” And the youths promised that they would do it.

The Huns went to their lodging. Meanwhile, the great king had sent for his friends, and noble Gunther asked his men how the message pleased them. And many of them began to say that he might well ride into Etzel’s land. The best among them counselled him thereto—all save Hagen. Him it irked exceedingly. He said to the king apart, “Ye strike at your own life. Surely ye know what we have done. Evermore we stand in danger from Kriemhild. I smote her husband dead with my hand. How dare we ride into Etzel’s land?”

But the king answered, “My sister forgot her anger. With a loving kiss she forgave us for all we had done to her or she rode away. Hath she aught against any, it is against thee alone, Hagen.”

“Be not deceived,” said Hagen, “by the words of the Hunnish envoys. If thou goest to see Kriemhild, thou mayst lose thine honour and thy life. The wife of King Etzel hath a long memory.”

Then Gernot spake out before the assembly, “Because thou fearest death with reason among the Huns, it were ill done on our part to keep away from our sister.”

And Sir Giselher said to the knight, “Since thou knowest thyself guilty, friend Hagen, stay thou at home, and guard thyself well, and let them that dare, journey with us to the Huns.”

Then the knight of Trony fell into a passion. “None that ye take with you will be readier to ride to the court than I. And well I will prove it, since ye will not be turned.”

But knight Rumolt, the cook, said, “Strangers and friends ye can entertain at home, at your pleasure. For here is abundance. Hagen, I trow, hath never held you back afore. If ye will not follow him in this, be counselled by Rumolt (for your true and loving servant am I) and tarry here as I would have ye do, and leave King Etzel yonder by Kriemhild. Where in the wide world could ye be better? Here ye are safe from your enemies. Ye can adorn your bodies with goodly vesture, drink the best wine, and woo fair women. Thereto, ye are given meats, the best on earth that ever king ate. The land is prosperous. Ye may give up Etzel’s hightide with honour, and live merrily at home with your friends. Even had ye nothing else to feat on here, I could always give you your fill of one dish—cutlets fried in oil. This is Rumolt’s advice, my masters, since there is danger among the Huns. Never again, I trow, will Kriemhild be your friend, nor have you and Hagen deserved otherwise. Stay here, ye knights, else ye may rue it. Ye shall find in the end that my counsel is not bad: wherefore heed my words. Rich are your lands. Here ye can redeem your pledges better than among the Huns. Who knoweth how things stand there. Abide where ye are. That is Rumolt’s counsel.”

“We will not stay here,” said Gernot. “Since my sister and great Etzel have bidden us so lovingly, why should we refuse? He that will not with us may tarry at home.”

“By my troth,” said Rumolt, “I, for one, will never cross the Rhine for Etzel’s hightide. Why should I hazard what I have? I will live while I may.”

“I am of thy mind for that,” said knight Ortwin. “I will help thee to order things at home.”

And there were many that would not go, and said, “God guard you among the Huns.”

The king was wroth when he saw they desired to take their ease at home. “We will go none the less. The prudent are safe in the midst of danger.”

Hagen answered, “Be not wroth at my word. Whatever betide, I counsel thee in good faith to ride strongly armed to the Huns. Since thou wilt not be turned, summon the best men thou canst find, or knowest of, among thy vassals, and from among them I will choose a thousand good knights, that thou come not in scathe by Kriemhild’s anger.”

“I will do this,” said the king straightway. And he bade messengers ride abroad through the country. Three thousand or more heroes they brought back with them.

They thought not to meet so grim a doom. Merrily they rode into Gunter’s land. To all them that were to journey to the Huns horses and apparel were given. The king found many willing. Hagen of Trony bade Dankwart, his brother, lead eighty of their knights to the Rhine. They came in proud array, bringing harness and vesture with them. Bold Folker, a noble minstrel, arrived with thirty of his men for the journey. A king might well have worn their raiment. He told Gunther that these would also visit the Huns.

I will tell you who Folker was. He was a noble knight, and many good warriors in Burgundy were his vassals. He was called a minstrel because he played on the viol.

Hagen chose a thousand that he knew well, and the prowess of whose hand he had seen in grim battle, and in warlike deeds. None could deny their valour.

It irked Kriemhild’s envoys to be delayed, for they greatly feared their master, and every day they desired to be gone. But Hagen kept them for his crafty ends. He said to his lord, “We must beware of letting them go or we be ready to follow them, in a sennight. We shall be safer so, if they mean us harm. Kriemhild will not have the time to contrive our hurt. Or, if she be minded thereto, it may go ill with her, since we lead with us to the Huns so many chosen men.”

Shields and saddles and all the vesture they were to take with them, to Etzel’s land, were now ready, and Kriemhild’s envoys were bidden to Gunther’s presence. When they appeared, Gernot said, “The king will obey Etzel’s wish. We go gladly to his hightide to see our sister. She may count on us.”

Gunther asked, “Can ye tell us when the hightide falleth, or when we must set forth?”

And Schwemmel answered, “Next midsummer, without fail.”

The king gave them leave, for the first time, to visit Brunhild, but Folker, to please her, said them nay.

“Queen Brunhild is not well enow for you to see her,” said the good knight. “Wait till morning, and ye shall win audience of her.” They had fain beheld her, but could not.

Then the rich prince, that he might show favour to the envoys, bade bring thither of his own bounty gold upon broad shields. He had plenty thereof. His friends also gave them rich gifts. Giselher and Gernot, Gary and Ortwin, let it be seen that they could give freely. They offered such costly things to the envoys that these durst not take them, for fear of their master.

Then said Werbel to the king, “Keep your gifts, O king, in your own land. We may not carry them with us. My lord forbade us to take aught. Thereto, we have small need.” But the prince of the Rhine was angry because they refused so great a king’s gift. So, at the last, they were constrained to take his gold and vesture, and carry them home into Etzel’s land.

They desired to see Uta or they departed. Giselher, the youth, brought the minstrels before his mother, and the lady bade them say that she rejoiced to hear how that Kriemhild was had in worship. For the sake of Kriemhild, that she loved, and of King Etzel, the queen gave the envoys girdles and gold. Well might they receive this, for with true heart it was offered.

The envoys had now taken leave of both men and women, and rode merrily forward to Swabia. Gernot sent his warriors with them thus far, that none might do them a hurt.

When their escorts parted from them, Etzel’s might kept them safe by the way, that none robbed them of horses or vesture. Then they spurred swiftly to the land of the Huns. Them that they knew for friends, they told that the Burgundians from the Rhine would pass there shortly. They brought the tidings also to Bishop Pilgerin.

When they rode down by Bechlaren, they failed not to send word to Rudeger and Dame Gotelind, the Margrave’s wife, that was merry of her cheer because she was to see the guests so soon.

The minstrels were seen spurring through the land. They found Etzel in his town of Gran. They gave the king, that grew red for joy, the greetings that had been sent him.

When the queen heard for certain that her brothers would come, she was well content, and requited the minstrels with goodly gifts, which did her honour. She said, “Now tell me, both of you, Werbel and Schwemmel, which of my friends, of the best that we have bidden, come to the hightide. What said Hagen when he heard the news?”

“He came to the council one morning early. He had little good to say of the hightide. It was named by grim Hagen the death-ride. Thy brothers, the three kings, come in merry mood. Who further are with them I cannot say. Folker, the bold minstrel, is one.”

“I had made shift to do without Folker,” said the king’s wife. “Hagen I esteem; he is a good knight. I am right glad that we shall see him here.”

Then Kriemhild went to the king, and spake to him right sweetly, “How doth the news please thee, dearest lord? All my heart’s desire shall now be satisfied.”

“Thy will is my pleasure,” answered the king. “I were less glad had it been mine own kinsmen. Through love of thy dear brethren all my cares have vanished.”

Etzel’s officers bade fit up palace and hall everywhere with seats for the welcome guests. They took much joy from the king.

Twenty-Fifth Adventure How the Kings Journeyed to the Huns

But of their doings there we shall tell no further. High-hearted heroes never rode so proudly into any king’s land. All that they wanted they had, both of weapons and apparel. They say that the Prince of the Rhine equipped a thousand and three score of knights, and nine thousand squires for the hightide. They that tarried at home were soon to weep for them.

Whilst they carried their harness across the court at Worms, an old bishop from Spires said to fair Uta, “Our friends will ride to the hightide. God help them there.”

Then noble Uta said to her children, “Stay here, good heroes. Last night I dreamed an evil dream, that all the birds in this land were dead.”

“He that goeth by dreams,” said Hagen, “careth little for his honour. I would have my noble master take leave without delay, and ride forward merrily into Etzel’s land. There kings need heroes’ hands to serve them, and we must see Kriemhild’s hightide.”

Hagen counselled them now to the journey, but he rued it later. He had withstood them, but that Gernot had mocked him. He minded him on Siegfried, Kriemhild’s husband, and said, “It is for that, that Hagen durst not go.”

But Hagen said, “I hold not back from fear. If ye will have it so, heroes, go forward. I am ready to ride with you to Etzel’s land.” Soon many a helmet and shield were pierced by him.

The ships lay waiting for the kings and their men. They carried their vesture down to them, and were busy till eventide. Merry of cheer they quitted their homes. On the camping ground across the Rhine they pitched tents and put up booths. The king’s fair wife entreated him to stay, for much she loved him. Flutes and trumpets rang out early in the morning, and gave the signal to be gone. Many a true lover was torn from his loved one’s arms by King Etzel’s wife.

King Uta’s sons had a liegeman bold and true. When he saw they would forth, he spake to the king secretly, “Much I grieve that thou goest to this hightide.” Rumolt was his name, a chosen knight. He said, “To whom wilt thou leave thy folk and thy land? Alack! that none can turn you knights from your purpose! Kriemhild’s message never pleased me.”

“I leave my land and child in thy charge. I will have it so. Comfort them that thou seest weeping. Etzel’s wife will do us no hurt!”

The king held a council with his chief men or he started. He left not land and castles defenceless. Many a chosen knight stayed behind to guard them.

The horses stood ready for the kings and their followers. With sweet kisses parted many whose hearts still beat high. Noble women soon wept for them. Wailing was there, with tears enow. The queen bare her child in her arms to the king. “How canst thou leave us both desolate? Stay for our sake,” said the sorrowful woman.

“Weep not for me, but be of good cheer here at home. We shall return shortly, safe and sound.”

So they waited no longer, but lovingly took leave of their friends. When the bold knights were gotten to horse, many women stood sorrowing. Their hearts told them it was a long parting. None is merry of his cheer when bitter woe is at hand.

The swift Burgundians rode off, and there was hurrying in the land. On either side the mountains both men and women wept. But, for all the folk could do, they pressed forward merrily. A thousand of the Nibelung knights in habergeons went with them, that had left fair women at home, the which they never saw more. The wounds of Siegfried gaped in Kriemhild’s heart.

The Christian faith was still weak in those days. Nevertheless they had a chaplain with them to say mass. He returned alive, escaped from much peril. The rest tarried dead among the Huns. Gunther’s men shaped their course toward the Main, up through East Frankland. Hagen led them, that knew the way well. Their Marshal was Dankwart, the knight of Burgundy. As they rode from East Frankland to Schwanfeld, the princes and their kinsmen, knights of worship, were known by their stately mien.

On the twelfth morning the king reached the Danube. Hagen of Trony rode in front of the rest. He was the helper and comforter of the Nibelungs. The bold knight alighted there on the bank, and tied his horse to a tree. The river was swoln, there was no boat, and the knights were troubled how to win across. The water was too wide. Many a bold knight sprang to the ground.

“Mischief might easily befall thee here, King of Rhineland,” said Hagen; “thou canst see for thyself that the river is swoln, and the current very strong. I fear me we shall lose here to-day not a few good knights.”

“Wherefore daunt me, Hagen?” said the proud king. “Of thy charity fright us no more. Look out a ford for us, that we bring both horses and baggage safe across.”

“I am no so weary of life,” said Hagen, “that I desire to drown in these broad waves. Many a man in Etzel’s land shall first fall by my hand. That is more to my mind. Stay by the water side, ye proud knights and good, and I will seek the ferrymen by the river, that will bring us safe into Gelfrat’s land.”

Thereupon stark Hagen took his good shield. He was well armed. He bare his buckler. He laced on his shining helmet. He wore a broad weapon above his harness, that cut grimly with both its edges.

Then he sought the ferrymen up and down. He heard the splash of water and began to listen. It came from mermaidens that bathed their bodies in a clear brook to cool them.

Hagen spied them, and stole up secretly. When they were ware of him, they fled. Well pleased were they to escape him. The hero took their garments, but did them no further annoy.

Then one of the mermaids (she hight Hadburg) said, “We will tell thee, noble Hagen, if thou give us our clothes again, how ye shall all fare on this journey among the Huns.”

They swayed like birds in the water before him. He deemed them wise and worthy of belief, so that he trusted the more what they told him. They informed him concerning all that he asked them. Hadburg said, “Ye may ride safely into Etzel’s land; I pledge my faith thereon, that never yet heroes journeyed to any court to win more worship. I say sooth.”

Hagen’s heart was uplifted at her word; he gave them back their clothes and stayed no longer. When they had put on their wonderful raiment, they told him the truth about the journey.

The other mermaid, that hight Sieglind, said, “Be warned, Hagen, son of Aldrian. My aunt hath lied to thee because of her clothes. If ye go to the Huns, ye are ill-advised. Turn while there is time, for ye bold knights have been bidden that ye may die in Etzel’s land. Who rideth thither hath death at his hand.”

But Hagen said, “Your deceit is vain. How should we all tarry there, dead, through the hate of one woman?”

Then they began to foretell it plainer, and Hadburg said also, “Ye are doomed. Not one of you shall escape, save the king’s chaplain: this we know for a truth. He, only, shall return alive into Gunther’s land.”

Grimly wroth spake bold Hagen then. “It were a pleasant thing to tell my masters that we must all perish among the Huns! Show us a way across the water, thou wisest of womankind.”

She answered, “Since thou wilt not be turned from the journey, up yonder by the river standeth an inn. Within it is a boatman; there is none beside.”

He betook him thither to ask further. But the mermaidens cried after the wrothful knight, “Stay, Sir Hagen. Thou art too hasty. Hearken first concerning the way. The lord of this march hight Elsy. The name of his brother is Gelfrat, a prince in Bavaria. It might go hard with thee if thou wentest through his march. Look well to thyself, and proceed warily with the boatman. He is so grim of his mood that he will kill thee, if thou speak him not fair. If thou wouldst have him ferry thee across, give him hire. He guardeth this land, and is Gelfrat’s friend. If he come not straightway, cry across the river to him that thou art Amelrich; he was a good knight, that a feud drove from this land. The boatman will come when he heareth that name.”

Proud Hagen thanked the women for their warning and their counsel, and said no more. He went up the river’s bank, till he came to an inn that stood on the far side. He began to shout across the water, “Boatman, row me over, and I will give thee, for thy meed, an armlet of red gold. I must across.”

The boatman was so rich that he needed not to serve for hire, and seldom took reward from any. His men also were overweening, and Hagen was left standing on the bank of the river.

Thereupon he shouted so loud that all the shore rang with it. He was a stark man. “Row across for Amelrich. I am Elsy’s liegeman, that, for a feud, fled the country.” He swung the armlet aloft on his sword—it was of red gold, bright and shining—that they might ferry him over to Gelfrat’s march. At this the haughty boatman himself took the oar, for he was greedy and covetous of gain, the which bringeth oft to a bad end. He thought to win Hagen’s red gold, but won, in lieu thereof, a grim death by his sword.

He rowed over to the shore with mighty strokes. When he found not him that had been named, he fell into a fury; he saw Hagen, and spake wrothfully to the hero, “Thy name may be Amelrich, but, or I err greatly, thy face is none of his. By one father and one mother he was my brother. Since thou hast deceived me, thou canst stay where thou art.”

“Nay, for the love of God,” said Hagen. “I am a stranger knight that have the charge of other warriors. Take thy fee and row me over, for I am a friend.”

But the boatman answered, “I will not. My dear masters have foemen, wherefore I must bring no stranger across. If thou lovest thy life, step out on to the shore again.”

“Nay now,” said Hagen, “I am sore bested. Take, as a keepsake, this goodly gold, and ferry us over with our thousand horses and our many men.”

But the grim boatman answered, “Never!” He seized an oar, mickle and broad, and smote Hagen (soon he rued it), that he staggered and fell on his knees. Seldom had he of Trony encountered so grim a ferryman. Further, to anger the bold stranger, he brake a boat-pole over his head, for he was a strong man. But he did it to his own hurt.

Grimly wroth, Hagen drew a weapon from the sheath, and cut off his head, and threw it on the ground. The Burgundians were soon ware of the tidings.

In the same moment that he slew the ferryman, the boat was caught by the current, which irked him no little, for he was weary or he could bring her head round, albeit Gunther’s man rowed stoutly. With swift strokes he sought to turn it, till the oar brake in his hand. He strove to reach the knights on the strand, but had no other oar. Ha! how nimbly he bound it together with the thong of his shield, a narrow broidered band, and rowed to a wood down the river.

There he found his masters waiting on the beach. Many a valiant knight ran to meet him, and greeted him joyfully. But when they saw the boat full of blood from the grim wound he had given the ferryman, they began to question him.

When Gunther saw the hot blood heaving in the boat, he said quickly, “Tell me what thou hast done with the ferryman. I ween he hath fallen by thy strength.”

But he answered with a lie, “I found the boat by a waste meadow, and loosed it. I have seen no ferryman this day, nor hath any suffered hurt at my hand.”

Then said Sir Gernot of Burgundy, “I am heavy of my cheer because of the dear friends that must die or night, for boatmen we have none. Sorrowfully I stand, nor know how we shall win over.”

But Hagen cried, “Lay down your burdens on the grass, ye squires. I was the best boatman by the Rhine, and safe, I trow, I shall bring you into Gelfrat’s land.”

That they might cross the quicker, they drave in the horses. These swam so well that none were drowned, albeit a few, grown weary, were borne down some length by the tide. Then they carried their gold and harness on board, since they must needs make the passage. Hagen was the helmsman, and steered many a gallant knight to the unknown land. First he took over a thousand, and thereto his own band of warriors. Then followed more: nine thousand squires. The knight of Trony was not idle that day. The ship was huge, strongly built and wide enow. Five hundred of their folk and more, with their meats and weapons, it carried easily at a time. Many a good warrior that day pulled sturdily at the oar.

When he had brought them safe across the water, the bold knight and good thought on the strange prophecy of the wild mermaids. Through this the king’s chaplain came nigh to lose his life. He found the priest beside the sacred vessels, leaning with his hand upon the holy relics. This helped him not. When Hagen saw him, it went hard with the poor servant of God. He threw him out of the ship on the instant. Many cried, “Stop, Hagen, stop!” Giselher, the youth, was very wroth, but Hagen ceased not, till he had done him a hurt.

Then stark Gernot of Burgundy said, “What profiteth thee the chaplain’s death, Hagen? Had another done this, he had paid dear for it. What hast thou against the priest?”

The chaplain swam with all his might. He had gotten on board again had any helped him. But none could do it, for stark Hagen pushed him fiercely under. None approved his deed.

When the poor man saw that they would not aid him, he turned and made for the shore. He was in sore peril. But, albeit he could not swim, the hand of God upbore him, that he won safe to the dry land again. There he stood, and shook his clothes.

By this sign Hagen knew there was no escape from what the wild women of the sea had foretold. He thought, “These knights be all dead men.”

When they had unloaded the ship, and brought all across that belonged to the three kings, Hagen brake it in pieces and threw these on the water. Much the bold knights marvelled thereat.

“Wherefore dost thou so, brother?” said Dankwart. “How shall we get over when we ride home from the Huns to the Rhine?”

Hagen told him, after, that that would never be, but for the meantime he said, “I did it a-purpose. If we have any coward with us on this journey, that would forsake us in our need, he shall die a shameful death in these waves.”

They had with them one from Burgundy, a hero of great prowess, that hight Folker, and that spake with mocking words all his mind. And whatso Hagen did, this fiddler approved.

When the king’s chaplain saw the ship hewn up, he cried across the water to Hagen, “What had I done to thee, false murderer, that, without cause, thou wouldst have drowned me?”

Hagen answered, “Hold thy peace. By my troth, and in sober earnest, it irketh me that thou hast escaped.”

Said the poor priest, “I will praise God evermore. Little I fear thee now, rest assured. Fare forward to the Huns, and I will to the Rhine. God grant thou comest never back again. That is my prayer, for well-nigh hadst thou killed me.”

But King Gunther said to his chaplain, “I will more than make good to thee what Hagen hath done in his anger, if I win back alive. Have no fear. Go home, for so it needs must be now. Bear a greeting to my dear wife, and my other kinsfolk. Tell them the good tidings: that, so far, all is well.”

The horses stood ready, the sumpters were laden. As yet they had suffered no scathe by the way, save the king’s chaplain, that had to return to the Rhine afoot.

Twenty-Sixth Adventure How Dankwart Slew Gelfrat

When they were all on the shore, the king asked, “Who will show us the right way through the country, that we go not astray?”

Whereto bold Folker answered, “I will do it.”

“Stop!” said Hagen, “both knights and squires. One must follow one’s friends—that is plain to me, and right. But I have heavy news to tell you. Never again shall we see Burgundy. Two mermaids told me this morning early that we should win back to our home nevermore. Now follow my counsel. Arm ye, ye heroes, and guard your lives well. Stark foemen are at hand, wherefore ride as to battle. I hoped to prove the words of the wise mermaids false. They said that none save the chaplain would return. It was for that I had so gladly drowned him.”

The news flew from rank to rank. Many a bold knight grew pale, and fell in fear of bitter death, whereto he journeyed. Doleful were they and dreary.

They crossed the river at Moering, where Elsy’s ferryman was killed, and Hagen said further, “I have made enemies by the way, that will shortly set on us. I slew the boatman this morning; wherefore, if Gelfrat and Elsy attack us, welcome them on such wise that it shall go hard with them. They will do it without fail, for I know them for bold men. Ride softly, that none may say we fly.”

“So be it,” said young Giselher. “Who will lead us through the land?”

And they answered, “Folker, the bold minstrel; he knoweth all the hills and the paths.”

Or they had time to ask him, the brave fiddler stood before them, armed, with his helmet on. His harness was bright coloured, and he had bound a red pennon on his spear. Soon he came, with the kings, in great peril.

The news of his boatman’s death had reached Gelfrat. Stark Elsy had heard it likewise. Wroth were they both. They summoned their knights, that were soon ready. Straightway, as I will tell you, a mighty host, strongly armed, rode to them that had suffered scathe. To Gelfrat come more than seven hundred. When these set out to pursue their grim foemen, the leaders spurred hotly after the strangers, to be revenged. By the which they lost many friends.

Hagen of Trony had so ordered it (how could a hero guard his kinsmen better) that he brought up the rear with his vassals, and with Dankwart, his brother. It was wisely done.

The day was far spent; the light failed. He feared greatly for his comrades. They rode through Bavaria behind shields, and shortly after were set upon.

On both sides, and close behind, they heard the trample of hoofs, and spurred on. Then said bold Dankwart, “They will fall on us here. Ye did well to bind on your helmets.”

So they stopped, as needs was. Then they saw the glitter of shields in the dark. Hagen held his peace no longer, “Who follow us by the way?”

Gelfrat had to answer. Said the Margrave of Bavaria, “We seek our foemen and follow on their track. I know not who slew my boatman to-day. He was a valiant knight, and I grieve for his loss.”

Then said Hagen of Trony, “Was the boatman thine? He would not ferry me over. The blame is mine. I slew him. Certes, I had need. I had nigh met my death at his hand. I offered him gold and raiment, Sir Knight, as his meed for rowing us into thy land. So angry was he that he struck me with his great oar, whereat I was grim enow. Then I seized my sword, and defended me from his wrath with a grisly wound, whereby the hero perished. I will answer for it as seemeth good to thee.”

So they fell to fighting, for they were wroth. “I knew well,” said Gelfrat, “when Gunther crossed with his followers, that Hagen’s insolence would do us some hurt. Now he shall not escape us. His death shall pay for the boatman’s.” Gelfrat and Hagen couched their lances to thrust above their shields. Deadly was their hate. Elsy and Dankwart met gallantly, and proven on each other was their might. They strove grimly. How could heroes have fought better? Bold Hagen was knocked back from off his horse by a strong blow from Gelfrat’s hand. The poitral brake asunder and he fell.

From the followers also rang the clash of spears. Hagen sprang up again where he had fallen on the grass from the blow; not little was his wrath against Gelfrat. I know not who held their horses. Hagen and Gelfrat were both on the ground. They ran at each other, and their attendants helped them and fought by them. For all Hagen’s fierce onset, the noble Margrave hewed an ell’s length from his shield, that the sparks flew bright. Gunther’s man was well-nigh slain. Then he cried aloud to Dankwart, “Help! dear brother. I perish by the hand of a hero.”

Bold Dankwart answered, “I will decide between you.” The knight spurred toward them, and smote Gelfrat such a blow that he fell dead.

Elsy would have avenged him, but he and his followers were overcome. His brother was slain, and he himself wounded. Full eighty of his warriors he left there with grim death; the prince had to flee before Gunther’s men.

When the Bavarians gave way, there was heard the echo of grisly strokes. The men of Trony chased their foes, and they that stayed not to answer for it had little ease by the way.

But while they pursued them, Dankwart said, “Now turn we, and let them ride. They are wet with blood. Let us join our friends. Truly it were best.”

When they came again where the fight had been, Hagen of Trony said, “Let us see now, ye heroes, who are amissing, and whom we have lost through Gelfrat’s anger.”

They had four to mourn for, that they had lost. Well they were avenged. Against these, more than an hundred of them of Bavaria lay slain. The shields of the men of Trony were dim and wet with blood.

The bright moon shone faintly through the clouds, and Hagen said, “Let none tell my dear masters what hath befallen us. Let them be free of trouble till the morrow.”

When they that had fought came up with the rest, they found them overcome with weariness. “How long shall we ride?” asked many among them. Bold Dankwart answered, “Here is no hostel. Ye must ride till it is day.” Folker, that had the charge, bade ask the marshal, “Where shall we halt for the night, that the horses and my dear masters may rest?” But Dankwart said, “I know not. We cannot rest till the dawn. Then we shall lie down on the grass wherever we find a place.” When they heard this news they were sorry enow!

Of the red blood that reeked on them nothing was said till the sun greeted the morning on the mountains with his bright beams, and the king saw that they had fought.

The knight cried angrily, “How now, friend Hagen? Wherefore didst thou scorn my help when they were wetting thy harness with blood? Who hath done it?”

Hagen answered, “It was Elsy. He fell on us by night. Because of his ferryman, he attacked us. My brother’s hand slew Gelfrat. Elsy was forced to flee. An hundred of his men, and four of ours, lie dead, slain in battle.”

I cannot tell you where they rested. Soon all the country folk heard that noble Uta’s sons were on their way to the hightide. They were well received at Passau. Bishop Pilgerin, the king’s uncle, was well pleased that his nephews drew nigh with so many knights. He was not slow to give them welcome. Friends rode out to meet them on the way. When there was not room enough for all in Passau, they crossed the river to a field, and there the squires put up tents and rich pavilions.

They had to tarry there a whole day and a night. Well they were entreated! Then they rode into Rudeger’s country. When Rudeger heard the news, he was glad.

When the way-weary ones had rested, and drew nigher to Rudeger’s country, they found a man asleep on the marches, from whom Hagen of Trony took a stark weapon. This same good knight hight Eckewart. Right heavy was he of his cheer that he had lost his sword through the passing of the heroes. They found Rudeger’s marches ill guarded.

“Woe is me for this shame!” cried Eckewart. “Sore I rue the Burgundians’ journey. The day I lost Siegfried my joy was ended. Alack! Sir Rudeger, an ill turn I have done thee.”

Hagen overheard all the warrior’s grief, and gave him his sword again, with six red armlets. “Take them, Sir Knight, for love of me, and be my friend. Thou art a brave man to lie here all alone.”

“God quit thee for thine armlets,” answered Eckewart. “Yet still I must rue thy journey to the Huns. Thou slewest Siegfried, and art hated here. Look well to thyself; from true heart I warn thee.”

“God must guard us,” said Hagen. “No other care have these knights, the princes and their liegemen, than to find quarters, where they may tarry the night. Our horses are weary from the long way, and our provender is done. We can find none to buy. We have need of a host that, of his charity, would give us bread.”

Eckewart answered, “I will show you such an host. Better welcome to his house will none give you in any land than Rudeger, if ye will go to see him. He dwelleth fast by the road, and is the best host that ever had a house. His heart blossometh with virtues, as smiling May decketh the grass with flowers. He is ever glad to serve knights.”

Then said King Gunther, “Wilt thou be my envoy, and ask my dear friend Rudeger if he will keep us—me with my kinsmen and our men—till the day? I will requite him as best I can.”

“I will gladly be thy envoy,” answered Eckewart.

He set out with good will, and told Rudeger what he had heard. Such good news had not reached him for long. A knight was seen hasting to Bechlaren. Rudeger knew him, and said, “Here cometh Eckewart, Kriemhild’s man, down the way.” He deemed that foemen had done him a hurt. He went to the door and met the envoy, that ungirded his sword and laid it down.

Rudeger said to the knight, “What hast thou heard, that thou ridest in such hot haste? Hath any done us a mischief?”

“None hath harmed us,” said Eckewart straightway. “Three kings have sent me: Gunther of Burgundy, Giselher, and Gernot. Each of them commended his service to thee. The same doth Hagen from true heart, and also Folker. Further, I have to tell thee that Dankwart, the king’s marshal, bade me say that the good knights have need of thy roof.”

Rudeger answered with smiling face, “This is glad news, that the high kings need my service. It shall not be denied them. Right glad am I that they come to my house.”

“Dankwart, the marshal, bade me tell thee who there be of them: sixty bold warriors and a thousand good knights, with nine thousand squires.”

Rudeger rejoiced to hear it, and said, “Welcome are these guests—the high warriors that come to my castle, and that I so seldom have served heretofore. Ride out to meet them, my kinsmen and my vassals.”

Whereat knights and squires hasted to horse. All that their lord commanded they deemed right; so they served him the better.

Gotelind, that sat in her chamber, had not heard the news.

Twenty-Seventh Adventure How They Came to Bechlaren

The Margrave went to find his wife and daughter, and told them the good news that he had heard, how that their queen’s brethren were coming to the house.

“Dear love,” said Rudeger, “receive the high and noble kings well when they come here with their followers. Hagen, Gunther’s man, thou shalt also greet fair. There is one with them that hight Dankwart; another hight Folker, a man of much worship. These six thou shalt kiss—thou and my daughter. Entreat the warriors courteously.”

The women promised it, nothing loth. They took goodly apparel from their chests, wherein to meet the knights. The fair women made haste enow. Their cheeks needed little false colour. They wore fillets of bright gold on their heads, fashioned like rich wreaths, that the wind might not ruffle their beautiful hair. They were dainty and fresh.

Now leave we the women busied on this wise. There was mickle spurring across the plain among Rudeger’s friends till they found the princes. These were well received in the Margrave’s land. Rudeger cried joyfully as he went toward them, “Ye be welcome, ye knights, and all your men. Right glad am I to see you in my home.”

The warriors thanked him with true heart void of hate. He showed them plainly they were welcome. To Hagen he gave special greeting, for he knew him from aforetime. He did the same to Folker of Burgundy. He welcomed Dankwart also. Then said that knight, “If thou take us in, who will see to our followers from Worms beyond the Rhine?”

The Margrave answered, “Have no fear on that head. All that ye have with you, horses, silver and apparel, shall be so well guarded that ye shall not lose a single spur thereof. Pitch your tents in the fields, ye squires. Whatso ye lose here I will make good to you. Off with the bridles, and let the horses go loose.” Never before had host done this for them. Glad enow were the guests. When they had obeyed him, and the knights had ridden away, the squires laid them down on the grass over all, and took their ease. It was their softest rest on the whole journey.

The noble Margravine came out before the castle with her beautiful daughter. Lovely women and fair maids not a few stood beside her, adorned with bracelets and fine apparel. Precious stones sparked bright on their rich vesture. Goodly was their raiment.

The guests rode up and sprang to the ground. Ha! courteous men all were they of Burgundy! Six and thirty maidens and many women beside, fair to heart’s desire, came forth to meet them, with bold men in plenty. The noble women welcomed them sweetly. The Margravine kissed the kings all three. Her daughter did the like. Hagen stood by. Him also her father bade her kiss. She looked up at him, and he was so grim that she had gladly let it be. Yet must she do as the host bade her. Her colour came and went, white and red. She kissed Dankwart, too, and, after him, the fiddler. By reason of his body’s strength he won this greeting. Then the young Margravine took Giselher, the youth, of Burgundy by the hand. Her mother did the same to Gunther, and they went in merrily with the heroes.

The host led Gernot into a wide hall. There knights and ladies sat down, and good wine was poured out for the guests. Never were warriors better entreated.

Rudeger’s daughter was looked at with loving eyes, she was so fair; and many a good knight loved her in his heart. And well they might, for she was an high-hearted maiden. But their thoughts were vain: it could not be.

They kept spying at the women, whereof many sat round. Now the fiddler was well-minded to Rudeger.

Women and knights were parted then, as was the custom, and went into separate rooms. The table was made ready in the great hall, and willing service was done to the strangers.

To show love to the guests, the Margravine went to table with them. She left her daughter with the damsels, as was seemly, albeit it irked the guests to see her no longer.

When they had all drunk and eaten, they brought the fair ones into the hall again, and there was no lack of sweet words. Folker, a knight bold and good, spake plenty of them. This same fiddler said openly, “Great Margrave, God hath done well by thee, for He hath given thee a right beautiful wife, and happy days. Were I a king,” said the minstrel, “and wore a crown, I would choose thy sweet daughter for my queen. She would be the choice of my heart, for she is fair to look upon, and, thereto, noble and good.”

The Margrave answered, “How should a king covet my dear daughter? My wife and I are both strangers here, and have naught to give. What availeth then her beauty?”

But said Gernot, the courteous man, “Might I choose where I would, such a wife were my heart’s desire.”

Then said Hagen graciously, “It is time Giselher wedded. Of such high lineage is the noble Margravine, that we would gladly serve her, I and his men, if she wore the crown in Burgundy.”

The word pleased both Rudeger and Gotelind greatly. Their hearts were uplifted. So it was agreed among the heroes that noble Giselher should take her to wife; the which a king might well do without shame.

If a thing be right, who can withstand it? They bade the maiden before them, and they swore to give her to him, whereupon he vowed to cherish her. They gave her castles and lands for her share. The king and Gernot sware with the hand that it should be even as they had promised.

Then said the Margrave, “Since I have no castles, I can only prove me your true friend evermore. I will give my daughter as much silver and gold as an hundred sumpters may carry, that ye warriors may, with honour, be content.”

Then the twain were put in a circle, as the custom was. Many a young knight stood opposite in merry mood, and thought in his heart as young folk will. They asked the lovely maiden if she would have the hero. She was half sorry, yet her heart inclined to the goodly man. She was shamefast at the question, as many a maid hath been.

Rudeger her father counselled her to say “yes,” and to take him gladly. Giselher, the youth, was not slow to clasp her to him with his white hands. Yet how little while she had him!

Then said the Margrave, “Great and noble kings, I will give you my child to take with you, for this were fittest, when ye ride home again into your land.” And it was so agreed.

The din of tourney was bidden cease. The damsels were sent to their chambers, and the guests to sleep and to take their rest till the day. Then meats were made ready, for their host saw well to their comfort.

When they had eaten, they would have set out again for the country of the Huns, but Rudeger said, “Go not, I pray you. Tarry here yet a while, for I had never dearer guests.”

Dankwart answered, “It may not be. Where couldst thou find the meat, the bread and the wine, for so many knights?”