None might tell you all the marvel of knights and ladies, how they were
heard to wail, so that even in the town men marked the sound of weeping.
The noble burghers hasted hither. With the guests they wept, for they,
too, were sore aggrieved. None had told them of any guilt of Siegfried,
or for what cause the noble warrior lost his life. The wives of the
worthy burghers wept with the ladies of the court. Men bade smiths haste
to work a coffin of silver and of gold, mickle and strong, and make it
firm with strips of good hard steel. Sad of heart were all the folk.
The night was gone, men said the day was dawning. Then the noble lady
bade them bear Lord Siegfried, her loved husband, to the minster.
Whatever friends he had there were seen weeping as they went. Many bells
were ringing as they brought him to the church. On every side one heard
the chant of many priests. Then came King Gunther with his men and grim
Hagen also toward the sound of wail. He spake: "Alas for thy wrongs,
clear sister, that we may not be free from this great scathe. We must
ever lament for Siegfried's death."
"That ye do without cause," spake the sorrow-laden wife. "Were this loth
to you, it never would have happed. I may well aver, ye thought not on
me, when I thus was parted from my dear husband. Would to God," quoth
Kriemhild, "that it had happed to me."
Firmly they made denial. Kriemhild gan speak: "Whoso declareth him
guiltless, let him show that now. He must walk to the bier before all
the folk; thereby one may know the truth eftsoon."
This is a great marvel, which oft doth hap; whenever the blood-stained
murderer is seen to stand by the dead, the latter's wounds do bleed, (1)
as indeed happed here, whereby one saw the guilt was Hagen's. The wounds
bled sore, as they had done at first. Much greater grew the weeping of
those who wailed afore.
Then spake King Gunther: "I'd have you know that robbers slew him; Hagen
did not do the deed."
"I know these robbers well," quoth she. "Now may God yet let his friends
avenge it. Certes, Gunther and Hagen, 'twas done by you."
Siegfried's knights were now bent on strife. Then Kriemhild spake again:
"Now share with me this grief."
Gernot, her brother, and young Giselher, these twain now came to where
they found him dead. They mourned him truly with the others; Kriemhild's
men wept inly. Now should mass be sung, so on every side, men, wives,
and children did hie them to the minster. Even those who might lightly
bear his loss, wept then for Siegfried. Gernot and Giselher spake:
"Sister mine, now comfort thee after this death, as needs must be. We'll
try to make it up to thee, the while we live."
Yet none in the world might give her comfort. His coffin was ready well
towards midday. From the bier whereon he lay they raised him. The
lady would not have that he be buried, so that all the folk had mickle
trouble. In a rich cloth of silk they wound the dead. I ween, men found
none there that did not weep. Uta, the noble dame, and all her meiny
mourned bitterly the stately man. When it was noised abroad that men
sang in the minster and had encoffined him, then rose a great press of
folk. What offerings they made for his soul's sake! He had good friends
enow among these foes. Poor Kriemhild spake to her chamberlains: "Ye
must now be put to trouble for my sake, ye who wished him well and be my
friends. For Siegfried's soul shall ye deal out his gold."
No child, however small, that had its wits, but must go to service, or
ever he was buried. Better than a hundred masses were sung that day.
Great throng was there of Siegfried's friends.
When that mass was sung, the folk went hence. Then Lady Kriemhild spake:
"Pray let me not hold vigil over the chosen knight this night alone.
With him all my joys have come to fall. I will let him lie in state
three days and nights, until I sate me with my dear lord. What if God
doth bid that death should take me too. Then had ended well the grief of
me, poor Kriemhild."
The people of the town returned now to their lodgings. She begged the
priests and monks and all his retinue, that served the knight, to stay.
They spent full evil nights and toilsome days; many a man remained
without all food and drink. For those who would partake, it was made
known that men would give them to the full. This Sir Siegmund purveyed.
Then were the Nibelungs made acquaint with mickle toil. During the three
days, as we hear tell, those who knew how to sing, were made to bear a
deal of work. What offerings men brought them! Those who were very poor,
grew rich enow. Whatever of poor men there were, the which had naught,
these were bid go to mass with gold from Siegfried's treasure chamber.
Since he might not live, many thousand marks of gold were given for his
soul. She dealt out well-tilled lands, wherever cloisters and pious folk
were found. Enow of gold and silver was given to the poor. By her deeds
she showed that she did love him fondly.
Upon the third morning at time of mass, the broad churchyard by the
minster was full of weeping country folk. They served him after death,
as one should do to loving kin. In the four days, as hath been told,
full thirty thousand marks or better still were given to the poor for
his soul's sake. Yet his great beauty and his life lay low. When God
had been served and the chants were ended, much people fought 'gainst
monstrous grief. Men bade bear him from the minster to the grave. Those
were seen to weep and wail who missed him most. With loud laments the
people followed hence; none was merry, neither wife nor man. They sang
and read a service before they buried him. Ho, what good priests were
present at his burial! Ere Siegfried's wife was come to the grave, her
faithful heart was rung with grief, so that they must needs oft sprinkle
her with water from the spring. Her pain was passing great; a mickle
wonder it was that she ever lived. Many a lady helped her in her plaint.
Then spake the queen: "Ye men of Siegfried, by your loyalty must ye
prove your love to me. Let me receive this little favor after all my
woe, that I may see once more his comely head."
She begged so long, with griefs strong will, that they must needs break
open the lordly casket. Then men brought the lady to where he lay. With
her white hand she raised his fair head and kissed the noble knight and
good, thus dead. Tears of blood her bright eyes wept from grief. Then
there happed a piteous parting. Men bare her hence, she could not walk,
and soon they found the high-born lady lying senseless. Fain would the
lovely fair have died of grief.
When they had now buried the noble lord, those who were come with him
from the Nibelung land were seen to suffer from unmeasured grief. Men
found Siegmund full seldom merry then. There were those that for three
days would neither eat nor drink for passing grief. Yet might they not
so waste away their bodies, but that they recovered from their sorrows,
as still happeneth oft enow.
ENDNOTES:
(1) "Bleed". This was not only a popular superstition, but also
a legal practice in case of a murder when the criminal had
not been discovered, or if any one was suspected. The
suspected person was requested to approach the bier and
touch the body, in the belief that the blood would flow
afresh if the one touching the body were guilty. Our
passage is the first instance of its mention in German
literature. A similar one occurs in "Iwein", 1355-1364.
The usage was also known in France and England. See the
instances quoted by Jacob Grimm in his "Rechtsaltertumer",
930.
ADVENTURE XVIII. How Siegmund Journeyed Home Again.
Kriemhild's husband's father went to where he found her. Unto the queen
he spake: "We must unto our land; by the Rhine, I ween, we be unwelcome
guests. Kriemhild, dear lady, now journey with me to my lands. Albeit
treachery here in these lands hath bereft us of your noble husband, yet
should ye not requite this. I will be friendly to you for my dear son's
sake, of this shall ye have no doubt. Ye shall have, my lady, all the
power which Siegfried, the bold knight, gave you aforetime. The land and
also the crown shall be subject to you. All Siegfried's men shall serve
you gladly."
Then the squires were told that they must ride away. A mickle hurrying
for steeds was seen, for they were loth to stay with their deadly foes.
Men bade dames and maidens seek their robes. When that King Siegmund
would fain have ridden forth, Kriemhild's mother gan beg her that she
stay there with her kindred.
The royal lady answered: "That might hardly hap. How could I bear the
sight of him from whom such great wrong hath happed to me, poor wife?"
Then spake young Giselher: "Dear sister mine, by thy troth thou shouldst
stay here with thy mother. Thou dost need no service of them that have
grieved thee and saddened thy mood. Live from my goods alone."
To the warrior she spake: "Certes, it may not hap, for I should die of
dole whenever I should gaze on Hagen."
"I'll give thee rede for that, dear sister mine. Thou shalt live with
thy brother Giselher, and of a truth I'll comfort thee of thy husband's
death."