days, mourning her lost husband and going daily to pray beside his
tomb. Thus three long years went by and no word did she speak to
Günther, nor did she once see Hagen in all that time.
But Hagen never ceased to urge the King to make his peace with her, for
in no other way might the Nibelung hoard be brought to Worms; and at
last this was brought about by the King’s two brothers. At the cost of
many tears Kriemhild forgave every one save Hagen, but little for that
cared the grim hero. His mind was set upon the treasure which had been
Siegfried’s marriage gift to his wife. Soon Kriemhild was persuaded
to send for it, whereupon Gernot and Giselher with eight thousand men
were despatched to the land of the Nibelungs to claim the hoard. Had
Alberich, the Dwarf-King, still possessed the magic cap, none could
have forced him to give up the treasure; but Siegfried had taken it
from him, and he needs must obey Kriemhild’s commands. In four days
and nights, twelve wagons going to and fro had transported the great
heap of gold and jewels to the ship from its resting-place within the
mountain; and thus was the mighty Nibelung hoard, so famed in song and
story, brought at last to Worms. There the two princes gave it into
Kriemhild’s keeping; and so vast was the treasure that it filled whole
vaults and towers, nor did it ever grow less however much was taken
from it.
After some time had passed, Hagen said to Günther: “Of a truth,
the lady Kriemhild doth dispense her riches with an open hand, and
therewith bestow great charities, alike to high and low. Ere-long she
will gain so many friends and followers that peril may well ensue to
ourselves, wherefore, methinks, ’twere better far to keep the hoard.”
To this Günther replied that the gold was her own, to do with as she
would; moreover, he had sworn to do her no more wrong. But Hagen so
beset his royal master, offering himself to bear the blame, that at the
last Günther yielded, and Hagen thereupon possessed himself of the keys
to the treasure.
Now, at this time it chanced that the Burgundians were about to set
forth on some warlike expedition, and the youthful Giselher, full of
wrath at this fresh injury to his beloved sister, swore to lend her
his aid as soon as ever he should return. But Hagen abode in Worms,
and, fearing lest the keys should be taken from him, availed himself of
the King’s absence to bury the hoard beneath the Rhine, hoping thereby
to keep it for his own. But not thus had fate decreed. Being well aware
that the King’s brothers would not easily forgive this bold act, he
left the court for a space to wait till their wrath should have cooled.
Thus with new sorrows was Kriemhild oppressed, and still more bitter
grew her wrath and hatred toward Hagen. Not content with the murder of
Siegfried, he must also take from her the means of aiding the poor and
suffering, and this had been the only solace of her darkened life.
_Chapter XIX_
_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.”