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.
Raising aloft their well-poised javelins, the two champions hurled
them at each other with such mighty force and so true an aim that
both shields were pierced and the shafts snapped short, whereupon
they rushed together, their great swords clanging sharply on the iron
shields. So heavy were Sir Iring’s strokes that fire leaped out beneath
them, and the clash of arms resounded through the hall, yet of no avail
were they against Hagen’s strength and skill; whereupon, giving over
the attempt, he fell upon Günther; and then again baffled, upon Gernot.
At last, in a fury at finding himself no match for these heroes he
sprang at one of the Burgundian knights and slew him and thereafter
three others.
Now Giselher, beside himself with rage, longed for vengeance, nor did
he long in vain, for therewith Iring rushed upon him, but Giselher
smote him so powerfully that he fell senseless to the floor. All
thought him dead, yet he was but stunned with the crashing blow upon
his helm; and suddenly springing to his feet he rushed from the hall,
smiting Hagen as he reached the door, and wounding him. Furious with
rage, that hero grasped his sword in both hands and pursued Sir Iring
down the stairs, striking sparks from his upraised shield.
Kriemhild, seeing the blood on Hagen’s helm, greeted Iring joyfully;
but Hagen shouted to her to save her thanks until the knight should
have proved himself worthy of them by returning again to the combat,
warning her also that his wound was but slight and had done him little
harm as she should soon learn. Thereupon Iring caused a new shield to
be brought, and hastily donning fresh armor he rushed again to the
stairway. Like a raging lion, down sprang Hagen to meet him, striking
such fearful blows that naught could long withstand them. Soon they
shore through shield and helm and wounded Iring. Higher he raised his
shield to guard his head, when Hagen, seizing a spear that lay upon
the ground, hurled it through the shield and fatally pierced him. Back
fled Iring to his Danes and there sank dying at their feet, while they
crowded about him with cries of sorrow. Kriemhild too bent over him
weeping. He died like a hero; yet ere his eyes grew dim he spoke once
more in warning to his followers:
“Those largesses which Etzel’s Queen
Did promise you to-day
Ne’er hope to conquer or to win
While holding mortal breath;
For he who fights with Hagen bold
Is sure to meet with death!”
Maddened with grief and rage by the death of their chief, Irnfried and
Hawart rushed headlong on the Burgundians and another fierce fight
began. Soon Irnfried fell by Volker’s sword, and Hawart by Hagen’s.
Then Volker ordered that their followers who were storming at the
door be admitted to the hall, and again the din of battle rose more
frightful than before. The Burgundians fought like lions; nor, fiercely
as the Danes and Thuringians strove to avenge their lords, did one
escape the swords of Günther’s dauntless heroes.
Volker, the minstrel knight, took his place by the palace door to
watch for any new foe, but there were none who dared attack them. The
Huns lacked courage, while Dietrich of Bern, and Rüdiger, who had bold
knights at their command, not only shunned the strife but bitterly
lamented that it had ever occurred.
_Chapter XXX_
_The Night of Terror_
Not long were the Burgundians to enjoy repose, however, for fresh
bodies of Huns came pouring in from all sides, and soon Etzel and
Kriemhild had mustered another force; nor was it easy to repel them, by
reason of their great numbers.
The onslaught and defence did last
Till hindered by the night.
Those dauntless guests beyond all praise
With Etzel’s men did fight
The whole of one long Summer’s day--
So do the legends tell--
Hella! what thousands of brave men
By Burgund weapons fell.
Thus night came on, and gladly would the war-worn heroes have sought a
speedy death. Their thoughts also turned toward peace, and they made
known to the Huns that they would have speech with the King. Word was
sent to Etzel, and he forthwith appeared, with Kriemhild, before the
palace, upon the stairway of which stood the three princes in their
blood-stained armor, and behind them Hagen and Volker and Dankwart.
Then Etzel spoke: “What would ye have with me? ’Twere vain to sue for
peace, for never so long as I have breath shall it be granted to those
who so cruelly have slain my only child and many of my kin!”
Günther answered that it had been forced upon them, while Giselher,
turning to the Huns, cried out:
“What charge against me do ye bring? Did I not come hither in all peace
and friendship to your land?”
The knights replied: “Already hath such friendship cost us dear! Full
many a widowed wife and orphaned child have bitter cause to wish thou
ne’er hadst left the Rhine!”
Again Günther sought to make peace; but Etzel would hear naught
thereof. “Your griefs are not as mine,” he said, “for to my loss is
added shame; nor may it be effaced save with your blood. Wherefore, I
say, not one of you shall depart hence with his life!”
Then said the youthful Giselher:
“O beauteous sister mine,
I little treachery feared when thou
Didst bid me cross the Rhine.
“To thee I’ve ever faithful been,
Nor grief nor sorrow wrought,
Believing that thou heldst me dear,
To bring thee joy I sought.
Nor can I think thou’lt wish me ill;
Be still my sister true!
With kindly judgment look on us,
Sure less thou canst not do.”
Once more a ray of love warmed Kriemhild’s sorely wounded heart, and
she replied:
“Now if Sir Hagen you’ll agree
Into my hands to give,
Then will I not refuse to grant
That ye three all shall live;
Since ye in truth my brethren are
And from one mother spring,
Of further mercy I’ll consult
With those about the King.”
“Now, Heaven forbid!” cried Gernot. “Far rather death than such
disloyalty!”
And Giselher said: “Never yet did I break faith with comrade, nor will
I fail to-day in knightly duty.”
Thus was the last spark of affection extinguished in Kriemhild’s bosom.
She no longer felt pity even for her own kin, since they had refused
to deliver over to her the slayer of her Siegfried and her child.
Summoning the Huns, she bade them fire the palace on all sides.
Now was it in truth a night of terror for the Burgundians. Blazing
shafts flew on to the roof, and soon it was wrapped in flame. Thick
smoke and fiery vapors filled the hall, and the heroes suffered
tortures. Gladly would they have welcomed a swift death in battle. Many
called on God to pity their distress, and one knight cried out woefully
for a drop of water. Hagen shouted: “Keep to the walls, my comrades,
and raise your shields aloft!”
And still that dauntless hero, with the brave Volker, kept unceasing
watch before the door. At daybreak Volker said to Hagen: “Let us
within, and then perchance the watchful Huns will think we have
perished.”
And so in truth did Etzel and Queen Kriemhild now believe. Yet still
six hundred of them were alive. When this news was brought to Kriemhild
she caused a great store of gold to be brought and divided among the
Huns, with which to spur their valor. Thereupon a thousand of the
boldest rushed to the assault; but though many of the Burgundians too
were slain, not one of Kriemhild’s warriors came forth from that dread
hall of death to claim his gold.
_Chapter XXXI_
_The Margrave Rüdiger_
Soon thereafter came Sir Rüdiger, and when he beheld the smoking,
roofless palace, so filled with sorrow was his noble heart at all
the evil wrought and yet to come, that tears fell from his eyes and
trickled down his long gray beard. Hoping that something might yet be
done to bring about a reconciliation, he sent a message to Dietrich
of Bern, saying: “Let us go together unto the King; perchance we may
prevail upon him to forego his wrath.”
But Dietrich, who also deeply lamented what had befallen, sent back
word that it was useless, for Etzel would not hear of peace on any
terms, nor might any venture now to speak thereof to him. As Rüdiger
stood leaning on his sword, his mournful gaze fixed upon the Queen, a
Hunnish knight observed him and said scornfully to Kriemhild: “See,
yonder stands Sir Rüdiger! Etzel hath shown favor to him and richly
dowered him with lands and gold, yet hath he not struck a blow in all
this strife! Renowned is he for skill and valor. Methinks such fame
can be of little worth since we have not seen him display either here.”
Rüdiger overheard these words and was seized with a mighty wrath
thereat. Clinching his fist he smote the insolent scoffer with such
giant force that he dropped lifeless at his feet.
At that same moment Etzel appeared in the courtyard. “How now, Sir
Knight?” he cried, “that is an evil deed of thine. Are there not dead
enough, forsooth, that thou shouldst seek to add to them?”
The Queen too was about to reproach him bitterly, when suddenly she
bethought her of the vow Rüdiger made to her when he came to Worms
to urge King Etzel’s suit. “Bethink thee of thy oath, Sir Rüdiger,”
she cried, solemnly. “Didst thou not swear to serve me loyally and
faithfully to avenge all my wrongs?”
“That did I truly, most noble lady,” replied Rüdiger, “nor would I fail
to risk my life in thy cause. But ’tis my soul that I should lose were
I to be at strife with these thy guests, for ’twas as friends I brought
them hither to thy court!”
Yet still the Queen demanded vengeance on her foes, and Etzel thereto
joined his prayers, till Rüdiger in bitter anguish cried:
“Oh, woe is me, forsaken one,
That ever I was born!
Oh, woe’s the day, that I must be
Of all my honor shorn!
Of truth and gentleness of mind
Which God to me did give.
Oh, God! that I might only die!
I fain would cease to live.
“Whichever duty I avoid,
The other to fulfil,
I’m counted dastardly and base,
A worker-out of ill;
Yet leave I both of them undone,
I with the world have strife.
May He vouchsafe to counsel me,
Who first did give me life!”
He besought the King to take back all the lands and honors that he held
in fee, and let him retire with his followers to his castle, a poor
man, rather than force him to attack the friends whom he had welcomed
in all love and loyalty, who had slept beneath his roof, and to one of
whom indeed his daughter was betrothed. But he pleaded in vain, for
Kriemhild firmly held him to his word, while the King promised him
still greater riches and honor if he would rid him of his foes.
At last Rüdiger yielded. He agreed to keep his oath and give his life
in payment for the kindnesses he had received from his sovereigns; he
commended his wife and daughter to their care, then sorrowfully sought
his followers and bade them arm for battle with the Burgundians.
When Volker saw the band of knights approaching, his heart sank, but
Giselher cried joyfully: “Well for us all was it that I was betrothed
to Rüdiger’s daughter, for now our gallant friend comes to bring us
peace!”
“Nay, my lord! he who brings peace comes not in this array,” replied
Volker.
Pausing before the palace, Rüdiger placed his shield upon the ground,
but no friendly greeting did he pay the Burgundians as was his wont.
In lieu thereof he renounced his loyalty to them and challenged them
to combat. Great was their distress thus to be forced to strife with
friends after struggling against so many foes; and Günther cried: “Now
Heaven forbid, Sir Knight, that thou shouldst do our friendship such
wrong!”
“There is no help for it, alas!” replied Rüdiger, “since the Queen
demands of me fulfilment of a vow!”
Then said Gernot: “This sword was thy gift to me, most noble Rüdiger,
when thou didst welcome us beneath thy roof; never hath it failed me in
time of need, and shall I turn it now against thee, the giver, to bring
thy noble wife to widowhood?”
“Would to God that I indeed were dead!” cried Rüdiger. “If thou go safe
from hence, full well I know thou wilt bring comfort to my wife and
daughter.”
Then commending himself to God, he lifted his shield and was about
to rush into the hall, when Hagen shouted to him from the stairway:
“Behold, Sir Rüdiger, my sorry plight! This shield, which thy wife gave
me in happier hours, hath been so hacked and hewed by hostile Huns that
no longer may it serve for my defence. Had I another such as that which
thou dost bear, I would go undismayed again to battle!”
Loath as was Rüdiger to give away his own shield under the Queen’s eyes
and thereby incur her wrath, his noble heart could not withstand his
friend’s appeal, and he bestowed it on Hagen, saying: “Take it, Sir
Knight, and mayst thou bear it back to Burgundy in memory of me!”
That Rüdiger so courteously,
Did give away his shield,
Filled many an eye with gentle tears,
And to their hearts appealed.
It was his last and dearest gift;
No more could bold knight crave
In token of the courtesy
Of Rüdiger the brave.
However grim Sir Hagen was,
Or ill-disposed in mind,
The generous gift which Rüdiger
So noble and so kind,
When near his end had given him,
His stubborn heart subdued;
While many a lofty knight did sigh,
As that brave act he viewed.
Said Hagen: “May the Lord of Heaven
Sir Rüdiger protect!
When he shall die, his like on earth
We may no more expect:
For he to homeless, shieldless knight
His own defence did give;
May God vouchsafe that when no more,
His virtues still shall live!”
Then he added: “As for thyself, brave Rüdiger, though thou shouldst
slay us every one, yet never shall this sword be raised against thy
life.” And this stout Volker also swore.
Seizing his arms, Rüdiger rushed upon the Burgundians and the strife
began once more. Hagen and Volker stood aside, nor did Giselher seek to
meet his sword; but deep were the wounds it dealt, and many the knights
that fell before it. Rüdiger’s liegemen followed him, and soon the hall
was filled with the din of battle.
When Gernot saw the terrible havoc Rüdiger’s sword wrought among the
Burgundians, he shouted: “I pray thee, cease, Sir Rüdiger! Now must I
seek vengeance for my true liegemen thou hast slain and thereby turn
thy gift against thyself!”
Therewith they cut their way through the press of battle till they
stood face to face. Fast fell the strokes of sword on shield and helm,
till Rüdiger, whirling his sword aloft, smote Gernot; and as Gernot
received his death wound he grasped his sword with both hands and dealt
Rüdiger the mightiest blow that ever he had struck. Both heroes fell,
slain at the same moment by each other’s hands.
When Hagen saw this, his wrath was terrible to behold, and he swore
Rüdiger’s men should pay dearly therefor, while loud were the
lamentations of the princes for the death of their brother. Mad with
fury now, they rushed upon the foe, nor was it long ere the last man
lay dead.
Now once more there was silence, and those who were left of the
Burgundians laid aside their arms to rest them after the fierce
struggle. Meanwhile Etzel and Kriemhild waited without, expecting each
moment to see Rüdiger come forth with word that the Burgundians were
slain. But when all grew still again she began to doubt that hero, and
cried aloud that he had deceived her and made peace with her foes.
Whereat Volker shouted wrathfully: “If I dared to give the lie to lady
such as thou, O Queen, I would right willingly! So loyally hath Rüdiger
kept faith with thee that here he lieth dead with all his knights. An
thou art loath to trust my word, then may thine own eyes banish doubt.”
Therewith the body was borne out by four knights and laid upon the
stairs. When Etzel beheld this, he cried aloud with grief, while from
all the Huns arose such wails and plaints of woe that they spread far
beyond the court, and tower and hall reëchoed with the cries.
_Chapter XXXII_
_Hildebrand and Dietrich_
One of Dietrich’s knights heard the doleful sound and hastened to his
master, crying: “I pray thee, lord, give ear! Etzelburg gives forth
such cries of woe and lamentation as never yet have I heard. I fear the
Burgundians have slain the King or Kriemhild!”
The knights all sprang to their feet, with swords aloft, but Dietrich
said: “Draw not your swords, my faithful liegemen, nor judge too rashly
those of Burgundy, for I have peace with them. Stern necessity has
compelled them to do much that they have done.”
Then stepped forth Wolfhart, the boldest and fiercest of the knights.
In former days he had met Hagen in battle and sorely wounded him, and
now he sought leave to go and learn what had befallen. This would not
Dietrich grant, however, for he feared lest the fiery Wolfhart should
affront the Burgundians with too hasty words. He despatched Helferich
instead, who soon returned with the grievous news of Rüdiger’s death.
Horror-stricken, Dietrich cried: “God forbid that such report should
be true! Sir Rüdiger always held yon heroes dear in his regard, as well
I know. How then could he have earned such reward of them?”
Wolfhart shouted furiously: “Now, by my faith, an they have slain that
chief who hath done us many a service, they shall die,--aye, every man!”
Thereupon Dietrich bade the ancient Hildebrand go to the Burgundians
and learn more nearly of the matter, while overcome with grief he sat
by the window to wait his return. As Hildebrand was about to depart,
Wolfhart cried: “Nay, go not thus unarmed, good master, or perchance
yon haughty chiefs will send thee back with insult. But an they see
thou canst defend thyself, then they will spare thee such attack.”
So the old hero donned mail and helm, and taking his sword and shield,
rode forth. But the knights all followed, likewise fully armed; and
when he asked the cause thereof, they said they would not that he came
to harm. Meanwhile the Burgundians had borne the body of Rüdiger back
within the hall; and as Volker spied Hildebrand and the knights, he
warned his comrades of their approach. Whereupon Günther and Giselher
strode to the window, Hagen following.
The warriors drew rein in the courtyard, while Hildebrand lowered his
shield and asked in Dietrich’s name if it was indeed true that they
had slain Sir Rüdiger. For such foul wrong, he added, might not go
unavenged.
Hagen replied: “Heartily do I wish, Sir Hildebrand, that thou hadst
been deceived. Yet it is true, alas! Noble Rüdiger lies dead in this
hall, nor can his loss be bewailed too deeply!”
Then arose a great cry of woe from Dietrich’s band, and many a bearded
warrior’s cheeks were wet with tears.
For sobbing, noble Hildebrand
No question more could ask:
Said he: “Now, knights, perform the will
Of him who set the task!
Give us, from out the hall forthwith
Sir Rüdiger again,
Whose death is cause of so much grief
To all these warlike men.
That we repay by obsequies
His martial feats of yore
And noble friendship shown to us,
Now lost forevermore.”
And Günther consented to this; but Wolfhart, who could no longer
contain his wrath, demanded with threatening gestures how long they
were to beg and wait for what they sought. Volker replied that none
should bring it to them now; if they would have Rüdiger’s body they
must come with their swords and fetch it themselves from out the hall.
He added: “Such service, methinks, were but Sir Rüdiger’s due.”
Furious at this, Wolfhart would have rushed at Volker, but Hildebrand
withheld him by force. “Nay--curb thy headlong wrath! or thou wilt
surely bring disgrace upon us all!”
“Let loose, good master Hildebrand,
That lion of rash mood,
That he may come within my reach!”
So said the minstrel good,
“And though he may have slain a host
Of valiant knights before,
I’ll smite him such a stinging blow
That he’ll reply no more.”
These words filled Dietrich’s men with rage, while Wolfhart with a
fierce shout tore himself free and like a raging lion leapt upon his
foe, followed by all the knights. But old Hildebrand was there before
him, “for since to fighting it must come--himself would be the first.”
Straight on Hagen he rushed, and therewith arose a mighty clashing
of sword on shield, while the sparks flew in showers. Yet soon were
they parted by the tide of battle that surged about them. So terrible
was the din, it was as that of a thousand forges. Bravely did they
fight on either side, but Günther and Giselher, Hagen and his brother
Dankwart, and Volker, outdid all the rest. Now Hildebrand saw Volker
slay Sir Dietrich’s kinsman Siegestab, and thirsting for vengeance, the
old warrior sprang upon him. Not long could he withstand such furious
onslaught, and soon thereby did the brave minstrel meet his end. At the
same moment also was Dankwart slain by Helferich. When Hagen saw both
Volker and his brother dead, he swore most fearfully to avenge their
fall, and therewith he rushed into the thickest of the fray, slaying
right and left, and smiting so fiercely that all his former efforts
seemed but as play.