Meanwhile Liebgart and the old queen were very anxious. They hoped and
feared alternately. On the fourth day, as they were sitting together,
they heard something scratching at the door. Liebgart opened it, and
saw the faithful dog, her husband’s companion on his last journey.
Instead of showing his usual joy at seeing her, the dog crept slowly
in, and lay down at the old queen’s feet with a low, moaning whine.
“He is dead—murdered by the monsters,” cried the unhappy mother. These
were the last words she ever spoke, for next moment she sank back dead
in her chair.
The shrieks of the young queen brought her women into the room, and
soon the sad news was known to all. There was now no king in Lombardy,
no one to keep order in the land. The great nobles fought and
quarrelled incessantly, and the country was split into factions. At
last, tired of this state of anarchy, it was agreed by the notables in
council that the only thing that could save the kingdom was for
Liebgart to choose a husband who had sufficient wisdom and power to
make a good ruler. They went to the queen, each hoping in his secret
heart that he would be chosen by her. But on hearing what was required
of her, she answered with solemn earnestness that she would preserve
her faith to Ortnit unbroken, and that none was worthy to succeed him
unless he could slay the lind-worms and avenge his death. The nobles
looked at each other in a shamefaced manner, and hastened to leave the
royal presence; but avarice and ambition soon regained the upper hand,
and civil war seemed imminent. Liebgart, deprived of all means of
support,—for even the treasury had been despoiled by the nobles,—was
forced, in company with a few women who were faithful to her, to make
her own livelihood by spinning.
The Margrave of Tuscany was much distressed when he heard of the
straits to which the queen was reduced. He offered her an asylum in his
country; but she said that at Garden she had been happy with Ortnit,
and there she also wished to sorrow for him. Touched by her
faithfulness, the prince sent her food and wine, that she might no
longer have to work for the necessaries of life. So she lived on, the
Lombards trying to force her to seek refuge from the ills of life by a
second marriage; but in vain; she bore all the miseries of her lot with
quiet patience, for she strengthened herself with thoughts of her
husband and of the avenger for whom she hoped.
This hope, which sometimes rose like a star on the cloudy night of
sorrow in which she lived, was one day to be fulfilled, but not for a
long time.
[Illustration: HUGDIETERICH AND FAIR HILDBURG.]
_THE AMELUNGS._
I.
HUGDIETERICH AND WOLFDIETERICH.