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.”
[Illustration: _THE Minstrel and Hagen_]
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: