YEARS passed by, and Kriemhild still mourned the loss of her noble
husband. Often and often she recalled the dream that she had had in the
days before Siegfried appeared in Worms. How truly her mother had
interpreted its meaning!
And now she had but one wish on earth, and that was to avenge his death.
She was not so beautiful as she had once been; constant tears had
washed the brightness from her eyes, and her cheeks were pale.
One day there appeared in the castle a noble-looking stranger, who asked
to speak with the queen. He was admitted to her presence, and she asked
him his name, and also to what she owed the honor of his presence at her
court.
He replied: "I am Rudiger of Bechlarn, of the court of Etzelburg. I have
come hither at the request of my master, Etzel the King of the Huns, to
ask your hand for him in marriage."
At first Kriemhild refused to listen to him. What had she to do with
love and marriage? All the love of her heart lay buried in Siegfried's
grave; all the joy of her life had vanished when he died. All that she
wished for was revenge, and after that to share her dear one's tomb.
But Rudiger would not take no for an answer. Then, when he found that
revenge was what she longed for, he saw his opportunity. He told her
that if she would but become King Etzel's wife, he, himself, would
promise to avenge her every wrong, not only those which might arise in
time to come, but even those which she had suffered in the past.
Here at last was the chance she had so patiently awaited, and she
eagerly seized it. She consented to become Etzel's bride, and Rudiger
willingly swore undying fealty to her and her cause. And so she returned
with him to Etzelburg, where the marriage was celebrated with royal
pomp and ceremony.
King Etzel loved Kriemhild dearly, and was very kind to her. She was
truly grateful to him, but she could not forget Siegfried, not even when
a dear little son came to her. The child was named Ortlieb. And so time
sped by, until the little boy's fifth birthday.
Kriemhild had now been in Etzelburg thirteen years, and in all this time
she had neither seen nor heard from her home and kindred. One day she
went to her husband, and told him that she was becoming ashamed of
being a stranger in a foreign land without any kinspeople of her own.
She said she thought it was high time that some of her family should
come to visit her, and begged him to make a feast, and invite them all
to be present.
Her slightest wish was Etzel's law, and so he willingly granted her
request. He at once dispatched a messenger with the invitation. Just
before the messenger set out, Kriemhild went to him and told him to be
sure that every one of her relatives accepted the invitation. In this
way, she hoped to get her uncle Hagen within reach, without rousing any
one's suspicions.
Now, when it had become known in Worms that Etzel had asked Kriemhild to
marry him, Hagen had been filled with alarm. He told Gunther that it
might mean great disaster for them, should Kriemhild marry Etzel, as he
was one of the most powerful kings of the time.
But now thirteen years had passed, and they had neither seen nor heard
from the Hunnish king and queen, and Gunther no longer feared trouble
from that source. Then came Kriemhild's invitation, and for seven days
it was discussed by the royal family at Worms.
Should they accept it? Gunther and his two brothers, Giselherr and
Gernot, were anxious to do so, for they thought it meant that their
sister wished to be at peace with her family. Gunther, particularly,
was eager to be friendly, as he loved Kriemhild dearly.
Hagen alone had misgivings, and well might he dread meeting her, for he
knew how sorely she had suffered at his hands. He sullenly refused to
go, until Gernot at length cried out:
"I know what ails Hagen! He is thinking of Siegfried's death, and fears
to go to Etzelburg."
Hagen did not wish to be thought afraid, so he consented to go, and they
all prepared to accompany the messenger to Etzel's court on the
following day--all except Uota, who was getting too old and feeble to
leave home.
That night Uota had a dreadful dream; she thought that all the birds lay
dead in the forests, and when she awoke, she hated to see her sons go,
for she knew that her dream meant danger to them.
However, they set out, accompanied by one thousand brave men. On their
way to Etzel's country, they came to a river that they had to cross; but
they found they could not cross it on horseback, as it was swollen too
high. So they had to wait until a boat should appear.
While they were waiting, they chanced to see two swan-maidens, who had
come to the stream to bathe; the maidens had laid aside their feathers,
and were playing about in the water like mermaids. Now Hagen knew they
possessed the gift of foretelling the future, and he laid a clever plan.
When they came out of the water, they found their clothes gone, and they
were very much troubled, for without their feather garments they could
not fly away. Then Hagen approached them, and said he would give their
feathers back if they would tell him what was to happen to the
Burgundians in Etzel's land. Then one of the maidens, who cared nothing
for him or his friends, and thought only of regaining her clothes,
without which she could never reach her home in the sky, replied:
"Everything is fair and clear for the men of Burgundy. Sail on, sail
on. You have naught to fear."
Hagen was delighted, and returned their garments with a light heart. The
maidens quickly put their feathers on, and spread their wings in flight;
but as they rose into the blue sky the second one cried to Hagen:
"Turn back, turn back; death and bloodshed await you in Etzelburg! Only
one, of all your number, will ever live to see your native land again."
Then they disappeared in the azure depths above, and Hagen was left
with a heavy heart.
At length the Burgundians secured a vessel, and embarked. They were met
on the other side of the river by Dietrich von Bern, one of the lords of
the Hunnish court, who greeted Hagen with these words of friendly
warning:
"Kriemhild still mourns for Siegfried's loss."
But poor Hagen had no way of turning back; he had to accompany the
others, whether he would or no. And sure enough, when he came into
Kriemhild's presence she drew herself up haughtily, and asked:
"And pray, who invited you here, Sir Hagen? Who bid you to this feast?"
Hagen replied that he was a retainer of Gunther's, and that wherever
Gunther went, he, too, must go; but her attitude and greeting showed him
plainly that she had not forgiven him for his treachery.
[Illustration: "AND, PRAY, WHO INVITED YOU HERE, SIR HAGEN?"]
Kriemhild greeted her brothers very cordially, and seemed rejoiced to
see them, and for a few days all went well. Then came the banquet, in
the midst of which in rushed Dankwart, Hagen's brother, with blood
flowing from a dozen wounds, and told them that the Huns had fallen upon
Gunther's men and slain them all.
And immediately everything was in the wildest confusion. Protected by
Rudiger, Kriemhild and Etzel escaped from the banquet hall. Then ensued
a fierce battle in which all of the Huns, with the exception of
Dietrich, and all the Burgundians, except Gunther and Hagen, were
slain. Finally Dietrich vanquished these two, and bound them hand and
foot. Then he sought Kriemhild, and made her give her word of honor that
he, and he alone, should be permitted to put them to death. After that
he turned the prisoners over into her keeping. She ordered them to be
confined in separate dungeons.
Then she visited Hagen and sought by every means in her power to
discover what he had done with the Rhine gold. This he refused to tell,
saying he had taken a solemn oath never to reveal its hiding-place so
long as one of his lords remained alive. Then she said that she would
spare Gunther's life if Hagen would tell her where the gold was
secreted.
But Hagen would not tell his secret, even to save the life of his liege
lord and kinsman. And so she ordered that both of them should be
beheaded, according to the custom of these olden times. And thus at
last was Siegfried's death avenged by the once gentle and beautiful
queen.
And of all the men of Burgundy who had crossed the water to attend King
Etzel's feast, but one remained to carry the sad news back to their
native land; and that was the old chaplain of Gunther's court.
Everything had come to pass just as the swan-maiden had predicted. And
back in Burgundy, Uota sorrowfully lived out her days with none in all
that broad land to brew for her lips the cup of forgetfulness, such as
she had given Siegfried. And so we must leave her alone with her sad
memories.
[Illustration]
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Transcriber's Notes:
Page 52, period added to end of chapter.