Chapter III: Part 3

_King Etzel Woos Kriemhild_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Chapter XX_

_Etzel’s Invitation to Günther_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Chapter XXI_

_The Swan-Maidens_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Chapter XXII_

_Kriemhild’s Welcome_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When they came to the castle, the gates were flung open and the Huns poured forth in crowds to gaze at the Burgundian heroes with all their glittering train. Many eyes sought Hagen, for well was he known in the land of the Huns as the slayer of Siegfried the mighty; and all were struck with wonder at his massive frame no less than his haughty bearing and fierce aspect. Broad were his chest and shoulders, his black hair slightly tinged with gray, while his bold gaze roved restlessly about from beneath his shaggy eyebrows.

King Etzel, with Kriemhild, stood at the window as the Burgundians on their gayly decked steeds rode into the spacious courtyard. When his eye fell upon Hagen he turned to his courtiers, demanding: “Who may yon haughty chieftain be?”

“’Tis Hagen, son to old Sir Adrian, a bold and wrathful knight, my lord,” said one.

“Ha!” cried the King, “’tis little strange I did not know him; for though he once was here at court, yet then forsooth, was he but a careless stripling.”

The stranger knights were housed within the castle as became their rank, but for the retainers lodging was prepared in other quarters far removed therefrom. This Kriemhild had planned for her own purposes. Now she went forth to welcome her kinsmen. Giselher, who was guiltless of Siegfried’s death, she kissed and embraced fondly, but none other did she greet in this fashion. When Hagen marked this, he tightened the band of his helm and cast a meaning glance at Günther. After she had greeted all, she turned to Hagen, saying:

“Welcome art thou to one who gladly sees thee here. Yet tell me, I pray thee, what hast thou brought me from the Rhine?”

“Now, by my faith,” quoth Hagen, “thou art rich in gold and power, and yet dost ask what largess I bring!”

“I desire no gifts of thee,” said Kriemhild, coldly. “I want that which is my own. Where is the treasure that thou didst withhold from me?”

“In sooth, most potent Queen,” cried Hagen, “’tis many a day since I have seen the hoard. Wouldst thou know the spot where it is hidden? Full deep beneath the broad Rhine was it sunk, and there shall it abide until the Judgment Day!”

“I knew full well thou wouldst not bring it hither,” continued Kriemhild; “and for it I will hold thee to account; as also for the murder of my noble lord!”

With a scornful look, Hagen replied: “Now by my faith, this buckler broad, and my coat of mail and two-edged sword beside, are weight enough to carry. In sooth, I nothing else have brought.”

Thereupon Kriemhild declared that no weapons might be worn within the royal hall; but if he would entrust his arms to the care of her retainers, she would see to it that they were well guarded.

“Gramercy!” cried Hagen, “it were an honor far too great--for a Queen to serve as armorer. It must not be. Thou hast my thanks, fair dame; but for my arms, methinks they best were guarded by myself.”

“Ah! now I see,” said Kriemhild, angrily, “it must be thou hast had warning to doubt my faith. Would I but knew who spake such words to thee!”

Whereupon Dietrich of Bern stepped proudly forth and said, “’Twas I, O Queen, who warned thy kin, and I do not shame to own it.”

At this Kriemhild grew red with shame and anger, and turned away without a word, but cast upon her enemy, as she went, a swift glance of deadly hatred.

_Chapter XXIII_

_The Comrades_

Hagen, seeing Volker not far away, called to him, and together they crossed the courtyard and seated themselves upon a stone bench which faced the Queen’s palace hall. Many wondering glances followed the two mighty Burgundian heroes, and soon Kriemhild from her window beheld her foe. Whereupon a passion of grief and rage seized her, and she broke into such bitter weeping that one of her knights drew near and said:

“Most gracious Queen, make known to us what wrong doth grieve thee so, for fain would we avenge it.”

“Now, on my faith, thou speakest in good time, Sir Knight; for whoso doth avenge this wrong of mine shall thereby earn my lifelong thanks, and well will I reward him.” Then pointing to Hagen, she cried: “’Tis vengeance on yon chief I seek. Most basely did he slay my lord, and for that would I have his life!”

Quickly arming themselves, sixty stout warriors declared that Hagen and Volker should die forthwith; but Kriemhild restrained them, saying: “Too few are ye to cope with yonder pair. Little ye reck of Hagen’s mighty strength, though somewhat thereof doth his look bespeak. And Volker is yet mightier.”

When the Huns heard this they hastened to summon more heroes to their aid, and Kriemhild said to them: “Bide ye here a space, my gallant friends, whilst I place the crown upon my head. I will confront my foe as Queen of Huns and tax him with his crime, that you may hear from his own lips ’twas he that did the deed.”

When Volker saw the Queen descending the broad stairs followed by a band of heavily armed knights, he said to Hagen: “Why doth the Queen approach with such a train? Methinks they come with no good intent.”

“Truly ’tis with some purpose,” replied Hagen. “Yet were there none save these in the land of the Huns to bar my way, then should I well, in truth, ride safely home again! But tell me, Volker, since we may come to blows, wilt thou faithfully abide by me, as I will pledge my loyal service unto thee?”

“By the mass, I will!” cried Volker, and therewith gave his strong right hand to Hagen. “Aye, though the King and all his host should come against us, yet would I stand beside thee, nor budge an inch as long as breath remained.”

“God prosper thee for such knightly words!” said Hagen. “Now let them come! With Volker fighting by my side, why should I fear?”

As the long train moved slowly across the courtyard, Volker said: “Were it not well to rise and greet the Queen? ’Tis but the custom of the court.”

But Hagen answered wrathfully: “Wouldst thou then that I show courtesy to one I hate? Nay, as for that, forsooth, the Huns would think ’twas fear that urged me to it. Keep thy seat, an thou dost love me, Volker.”

Hereupon Hagen, with intent to wound the Queen in cruel fashion, lifted the great sword, Balmung, which he had borne since Siegfried’s death, and laid it across his knees, where Kriemhild’s gaze must straightway fall upon it. Upon the hilt there blazed a jewel, green as grass, the sheath was crimson, and the handle all of ruddy gold.

Kriemhild stood before him; and when she saw the sword that her beloved spouse so long had borne, hot tears of anguish overflowed her eyes. Whereat a gleam of savage joy passed over Hagen’s face; but Volker drew his sword nearer to him on the bench, and both heroes sat undaunted before the Queen and all her men. Then Kriemhild demanded haughtily of Hagen how he had dared come thither, knowing what he had done, and furthermore, who had sought his presence.

Whereto Hagen replied: “None, O Queen, did summon me; yet since my master was bidden by thy lord, I also am come as a true liegeman.”

Hereupon Kriemhild taxed him openly with the foul deed he had done upon her lord; and Hagen turned upon her fiercely, crying: “What need have we to speak of that? Truly ’twas I that slew your Siegfried, nor do I fear to own it. I am here, and any one who pleaseth may seek vengeance on me!”

“Now you have heard!” cried Kriemhild to her Hunnish knights. “He hath confessed the deed that wrought me such deep woe. Deal with him as doth best befit; nor will I question aught thereof.”

But as the Huns gazed upon the two mighty champions and listened to Hagen’s fierce words, they lost heart, and none would venture to attack them. They looked at one another, and one said: “’Twere but certain death to assault these two!”

“Thou speakest truly,” added a second, “not for whole castles of ruddy gold would I encounter Hagen! As for the other--his fiery glances bent upon us are enough. I would not care to meet the greetings of his sword.”

A third said: “I know Sir Hagen of old; in two and twenty battles I have seen him fight, and many a mother’s son in warfare he hath slain. Then he was but a youth, while now he is to stalwart manhood grown, and his frame doth appear as if wrought of iron.”

“Naught for his valor would I care,” cried yet another; “did he not bear Siegfried’s sword, and where keen Balmung once doth strike, a life is ended.”

Thus argued the Huns amongst themselves, none daring to provoke the conflict; whereupon Kriemhild in bitter anger and chagrin departed, to devise some other plan, while her warriors slowly dispersed.

“Truly,” said Volker, “it is even as thou sayest, friend Hagen: the Queen thirsts for vengeance. Let us to our King, lest he should need us by his side.”

Therewith they arose and strode fearlessly through the midst of their foes to the outer courtyard, where they found the Burgundian princes with their knights about to proceed in stately procession to the palace hall to greet the King. Dietrich of Bern walked with Günther, Rüdiger with Giselher, while Hagen and Volker followed on behind; nor from this time were these two comrades ever seen apart. As they entered the hall, King Etzel rose from his golden throne and advanced to meet them with gracious words of welcome. Nor was there aught of guile or falsehood in his soul. With no thought of what was in the heart of his wife or wherefore her kinsmen had been summoned, he rejoiced to see so many noble guests and heroes of renown assembled at his court. Leading them to the festal board, he caused wine and mead to be poured for them in golden cups and right joyously they passed the hours till evening came.

_Chapter XXIV_

_The Minstrel Knight_

Low burned the tapers in the royal hall, and as the midnight hour drew nigh, anxious thoughts arose in the minds of the Burgundians. They longed for morning light to dawn. At last Günther prayed the King that they might be permitted to seek their rest; whereupon Etzel gave orders that they should be shown to their lodgings, and with hearty good-will wished them sound slumbers. As they followed the torch-bearers, the Huns came crowding about them so closely that their way was stopped, but Volker drew his sword and sprang forward, shouting: “Give place! or, by the mass, I’ll strike!” and Hagen added: “Be warned in time, ye knights of Kriemhild! If you would have aught with us, come with morning’s light and you shall find us ready!”

Thereupon the Huns fell back, and the Burgundians were shown into a wide vaulted hall where ample provisions for their comfort had been made. The beds were decked with gorgeous hangings of Arabian silk, tapestries from Arras, and coverlets of ermine and rich sable. Yet all this splendor could not avail to banish the dark forebodings that black as night had settled upon the hearts of the Burgundians. To the youthful imagination of Giselher indeed, the sumptuously decked hall seemed to bear the semblance of a tomb, and he cried aloud: “Oh, woe to this hostelry, and woe to the Burgundians, that ever they came to Kriemhild’s court!”

Whereupon a deep voice answered: “Dismiss thy fears, Lord Giselher, for I will answer for thy safe repose until the morn.”

It was Hagen who spoke, and such cheer did his words bring that all laid them down in peace forthwith to seek their much needed repose. But Volker strode to Hagen’s side, saying: “An thou so wilt, I’ll keep the watch with thee!”

“God will reward thy loyalty, my gallant friend!” replied Hagen. “I need no help forsooth, yet with thee by my side I could ask naught further. Nor shalt thou fail of thanks one day, if my life be spared.”

Then donning their heaviest armor they took their place on the stone stairway without, to guard the door. Now, Volker the bold was well skilled in the minstrel art; not only was he master of sword-play, but also of the sweet-toned viol, from which he was never parted. Fetching it now, he seated himself in the arched doorway and began to play. As the wondrous melodies floated on the air, all the joys and sorrows of their past lives seemed to fill once more the hearts of the sleeping heroes. Soft and low, like the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze, the last notes died away, and all was still.

Then Volker exchanged the viol for the shield, and the bow for the sword of battle. Motionless the two knights stood on either side of the high arched doorway, like giant figures cast in bronze. Full dark was it, for few stars crept through the cloudy veil which night had cast like a pall about the weary strangers. Not long after midnight Volker spied the gleam of armor in the distance, and looking more closely, his sharp eyes soon discovered some of Kriemhild’s knights lurking in the darkness. Kriemhild had sent them thither with orders to slay Hagen, but spare the other.

Volker pointed them out to his comrade, who whispered: “Be silent now and let them approach. Perchance they will not mark our presence here in the dark shadow. When once they are within our reach, we will smite their helms as they come up the stair, and send them back to Kriemhild in sorry plight.”

But when the Hunnish knights had advanced a few steps they perceived the two watchers in the doorway, whereupon one said: “Now must we forego our purpose. Look, yonder stands the minstrel! His burnished helm gleams with vivid light, and sparks of living flame shoot from his mail. Hagen stands beside him to guard the door. Now of a truth those knights may safely rest for aught of me!” Therewith they stole softly away. Then Volker said: “What thinkest thou, Hagen? Shall I not after them? Gladly would I play a brief tune upon them with my sword-bow!”

“An thou lov’st me, do not so!” rejoined Hagen quickly. “Wert thou sore pressed, then must I hasten to thy aid and leave the door unguarded.”

But Volker persisted: “They shall know that we have marked their base intent, and so perchance be brought to shame.” Therewith he shouted scornfully: “Wherefore so fully armed at dead of night, O Kriemhild’s knights? Is it on highway robbery you are bent?”

But the Huns made no answer; whereupon he cried again in wrath: “Fie upon you, dastard, craven crew, who sought to murder sleeping men! Lay down those swords from hands no longer fit to bear them!”

Thus once again was Kriemhild’s purpose brought to naught, and she was forced to devise other measures to gain her ends.

_Chapter XXV_

_The Burgundians go to Mass_

So the night passed, nor did the Huns again show themselves. “My armor grows chilly,” said Volker, at last, “methinks the fresh breeze betokens day is near.” And the two sentinels went within to awaken the sleepers.

Soon thereafter the beams of the rising sun shone into the hall, the bell for matins sounded, and Hagen summoned the Burgundians to go to mass. The knights were about to array themselves in festival attire, but he bade them don their armor instead, change their silk garments for hauberks, rich mantles for shields, and jewelled caps for good steel helms; for strife would surely come ere set of sun and they must be prepared.

“Now go ye to the minster church,
Your sins there to confess;
And pray to God right earnestly,
For aid in our distress.
For of a surety I do say,
Ye heroes without fear,
Unless the God above will save,
No masses more ye’ll hear.”

So it was that clad in full armor the Burgundians took their way in procession to the minster. When they were come to the churchyard, Hagen said: “Hearken to my counsel, knights and princes! We must be ever on our guard against the Huns, wherefore it were well to keep in close array. Place your shields before you, and should any chance to offer evil greeting, see that his death stroke be your thanks. If our courage fail not, our knightly honor shall yet remain unstained, though all beside be lost!” Thus man to man they stood, while Hagen and Volker advanced to the church door that they might thence keep watch of Kriemhild and her men.

Soon came Etzel in all the splendor of his royal robes, his beauteous wife Kriemhild at his side, followed by a glittering train of knights, and not a little surprised was he to behold the Burgundians armed from head to heel. Still unaware of the dark storm-clouds hourly gathering thicker and heavier above the heads of his guests, he was troubled at this sight, for it seemed that they misdoubted his good faith; wherefore, seeing Hagen, he sought to learn from him the cause thereof.

“Have any dealt you ill?” he asked; “if so, then dearly shall they rue it!”

Now was Kriemhild stricken with terror lest Hagen should betray her to the King; but far too proud was the hero to seek help from Etzel and thereby own he lacked the courage to defend himself. So he replied: “Naught has befallen us, O King. ’Tis but a custom we of Burgundy have, to go full-armed for three days during every feast.”

Nor yet did Kriemhild reveal the truth to Etzel, fearing he would forbid her vengeful purpose, and thus her mortal enemy would once more escape her. So they passed on, and behind them came Kriemhild’s knights in spreading ranks. Neither Hagen nor Volker would stir a handbreadth from the path, and thereby ensued great crowding and jostling. The Huns would fain have provoked a conflict, but they feared the King’s wrath; and presently all had passed into the church, the Burgundians following last of all.

_Chapter XXVI_

_The Feast_

At midday all were summoned to the royal feast, and the Huns likewise appeared in full armor, whereat King Etzel’s wrath arose. Whosoever deemed it fit to sit at feast in arms, him should he not gainsay, he said, but woe unto any who should hold designs against his guests! During the feast Kriemhild left the hall and summoning the prince of Bern and his lion-hearted old warrior, Hildebrand, to her, spoke with them privately. Bitterly she complained of all her wrongs and besought them to avenge her. But Hildebrand said: “No evil would I do the knights of Burgundy for all the gold that one could offer me!”

And Dietrich added: “King Günther’s kin never wronged or injured me; wherefore my dishonor were great did I now seek to stir up strife with them.”

Therewith they returned to the hall, and Kriemhild sent for Blödelin, the brother of the King, and with passionate words urged him to vengeance against the traitor who had done her such foul wrong; but as Etzel had made it plain that he held the Burgundians as his friends, Blödelin feared to incur his wrath. Thereupon Kriemhild promised him much silver and gold and likewise the hand of a fair dame, the widow of Sir Nudung, for whom he long had sighed, and when she added thereto the gift of rich lands, at last he yielded and swore to do her will in all things.

“Now, by my faith, that false Hagen shall pay for all thy wrongs!” he cried, “nor will I rest till I have brought him to thy feet!”

Joyfully Kriemhild returned to the hall and seated herself once more beside her lord. But Blödelin went forthwith to his followers and bade them arm, which they did right willingly, for secretly they hated the Burgundians. Kriemhild in her vengeful fury had bethought her of yet another plan, and this was to cause her son Ortlieb to be brought to her.

“Surely,” she thought, “will Hagen say evil words about the child to excite my wrath and thus affront my husband and his Hunnish kin, whereby strife will ensue.” Accordingly, four of Etzel’s knights were despatched to fetch the young prince thither, whereat the King was greatly pleased. Taking the boy by the hand, he said:

“My friends, behold my only son! I commend him to your affection. Should he grow to be like his kin, I shall have in him a bold and stalwart hero, worthy in truth to wear my crown and fill his high estate; for many a duke and king will one day do him homage. Take him with you, I pray, unto your court, that he may gain all knightly virtues there in return for which will I give you hearty thanks!”

Hagen replied: “If he lives to grow to man’s estate, full many an honor well may be his; but as to that, methinks I see an early death imprinted on his brow!”

At these words terror seized the Burgundians, who gladly would have had them left unsaid, but Etzel gazed before him with a troubled look, and spoke no word. Little did he surmise the frightful thought in Hagen’s mind.

_Chapter XXVII_

_Blödelin and Dankwart_

Now, the charge of the Burgundian following had been given to Dankwart, the brother of Hagen, the same who in former days had journeyed to Iceland for the wooing of Brunhild; and Blödelin’s plan was to overpower them first, and then attack the princes and their knights. Accordingly he sought that remote part of the castle wherein they had been lodged, and asked for Dankwart. He was shown into a hall where that hero with all his men was seated at the board, and from the window of which he had marked the approach of the band of armed Huns. Greeting Blödelin with fair words, he asked what brought him thither. “Nay, spare thy greetings,” said Blödelin, coldly, “I come not in peace, Sir Knight, but in good sooth to hold thee to account for thy brother Hagen’s murder of the noble Siegfried.”

“By my faith,” said Dankwart, “then would thy vengeance overtake the guiltless, since I, as it chanced, did abide at the royal court when Siegfried met his death beside the spring.”

“What thou hast done concerns me naught,” replied Blödelin, “it is enough that ’twas thy kinsman did the deed; and therefore must thou die!”

“Gramercy!” quoth Dankwart, “methinks ’twere well I had spared my words”; and springing from his seat he swung his sword aloft and at one blow swept Blödelin’s head from his shoulders, shouting: “Be this my marriage gift unto thy bride!” For he had learned from a friendly Hun of Kriemhild’s promise to Blödelin.

When the Huns saw their leader fall they burst into the hall with howls of vengeance. Dankwart shouted to his men to defend themselves to the death and therewith began a terrible conflict. Those of the Burgundians who had no swords made weapons of whatever came to hand, but the greater part were well armed, and so fiercely did they fight that soon the Huns were driven from the hall leaving more than a hundred of their dead upon the floor and in the passage. But anon came fresh bands of armed Huns, gathering from all quarters and in such numbers, that their onslaught could not long be withstood. Bravely as they fought, the Burgundians at last were all slain save Dankwart. Alone he stood and shouted: “Behold, ye Huns! of all my men I only am yet alive! If you are true knights, yield me passage to the open air, that I may once more cool my brow before I fall.” But the Huns would not give way for him; whereupon Dankwart laid about him so fiercely that soon he made his way to the door and succeeded in gaining the courtyard.

“Now would to God,” he cried, cleaving a pathway before him step by step, “some messenger were near to warn my brother Hagen of my need!”

Whereon the Huns shouted: “Thou thyself shalt be the messenger when we shall fetch thee dead into the royal hall! Then shall Etzel learn that thou hast slain his brother Blödelin and with him his liegemen!”

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

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

_Chapter XXVIII_

_The Strife in the Hall_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_Chapter XXIX_

_Iring’s Fight with Hagen_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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