SIGEMINNE.

The siege had already lasted three years, and yet there was no hope of

an end. The food had grown scanty; and if the enemy chose to make

famine their ally, the castle must finally capitulate. The duke vainly

sought for some plan of deliverance. One day Wolfdieterich came to him,

and said that he intended to slip out of the fortress by night, make

his way through the enemy’s camp, and go to Lombardy, there to ask the

help of Ortnit, the powerful emperor of the West. The old man did his

best to dissuade the lad, reminding him that their provisions would

last yet a year, and that the enemy, already weakened by sickness,

might raise the siege before long. The young hero was not to be held

back: at midnight he took leave of his foster-father and his other

faithful friends.

“May God protect you, my dear lord,” said Berchtung, clasping him in

his arms. “You will have to cross the deserts of Roumelia, which are

uninhabited, save by wild beasts and evil spirits. There you will find

Rauch-Else, who lies in wait for young warriors. Beware of her, for she

is a witch, cunning in enchantments. If you are fortunate enough to

reach the emperor Ortnit, do not forget your trusty henchmen, me and my

ten remaining sons.”

So they parted. They arranged that the besieged should make a sally

through the principal gate of the fortress, to draw off the enemy’s

attention to that quarter, while Wolfdieterich got away by a postern

door at the back. He was nearly out of the enemy’s camp when he was

recognised. Immediately mounting his horse, he drew his sword and cut

his way through their midst, and once in the dark forest beyond, he was

safe from pursuit. All night long Wolfdieterich rode through the wood.

He heard the were-wolves howling in the distance, but none came near to

seek his life. As morning broke, he found himself by the side of a

broad moorland lake. All sorts of strange creatures rose out of it, and

sought to bar the road. Two of them he killed, but he let the others

escape. He wandered three days in the wilderness, finding nothing for

his horse or himself to eat. He shared the bread he had in his wallet

with his steed. It was but a little at best; and the faithful creature

was at last too exhausted to carry him farther, so he dismounted and

led it by the bridle.

On the fourth evening, fatigue overpowered him so much that he was

forced to rest. He lighted a fire with the brushwood scattered about.

The warmth did him good, for a cold mist hung over the face of the

earth. He and his horse quenched their thirst at a neighbouring rill,

after which he lay down, and making a pillow of his saddle, thought

over his sad fate. Sleep was beginning to steal upon his senses, when

he was suddenly roused by a noise in the dry grass. Something black,

and horrible to look upon, crept nearer and nearer. It raised itself in

the air; its height was appalling. It spoke to him, not with a human

voice; the sound was more like the growling of an angry bear.

“How dare you rest here!” said the monster. “I am Rauch-Else (rough

Alice), and this ground belongs to me; besides which, I have another

and a wider realm. Get up, and go at once, or I will throw you into the

quaking bog.”

Wolfdieterich would willingly have obeyed, but he was too tired. He

could not move. He therefore begged the bear-like queen to give him

something to eat, telling her that his cruel brothers had deprived him

of his inheritance, and that he was now starving in the desert.

“So you are Wolfdieterich,” growled the bear-woman. “Well, Fate has

marked you out to be my husband, so you may count upon my aid.”

Upon which she gave him a juicy root, and scarcely had he eaten one

mouthful when his courage returned, and his strength seemed tenfold

what it had ever been before. It even came into his mind that he could

conquer the Greek forces single-handed, and set his eleven faithful

servants free. In obedience to Rauch-Else’s command, he gave the rest

of the root to his horse, which first smelt it carefully, and then ate

eagerly. No sooner had it done so, than it began to paw the ground, and

neighed with eagerness to resume its journey.

“Speak, will you be my true love?” asked the bear-woman, coming up to

the youth, and preparing to clutch him to her heart with her terrible

claws.

“Keep back,” he cried, drawing his sword. “Demon that you are, seek a

husband in hell, where alone you will find a helpmeet worthy of you.”

“Have I not fed and succoured you?” asked Rauch-Else; “was that done

like a demon? I have long waited for you to come and free me from an

evil spell. Love me, and save me.”

It seemed to the warrior as if her voice had all at once grown soft and

human in its tones.

“Yes, yes,” he said, “if only you were not so rough and hairy.”

He had hardly spoken, when the black fleece slowly slipped to her feet,

and a beautiful woman stood before him, her brow encircled by a diadem,

and her green silken garment confined at the waist by a jewelled belt.

Her voice was sweet and thrilling as she repeated her former words.

“Speak, young hero, will you love me?”

His only answer was to clasp her in his arms and kiss her.

“You must know,” she said, “that although Rauch-Else was my name here

in the wilderness, I am really Sigeminne, queen of Old-Troja. Your

‘yes’ has set me free from the spell of the enchanter, so we can now

set out for my country, of which you shall be king.”

Full of joy and thankfulness, they started on their way, followed by

Wolfdieterich’s horse. At last they heard the sound of waves breaking

upon the shore, to which they soon afterwards descended. There they

found a curious vessel awaiting them. The prow was formed of a fish’s

head, large and pointed. At the helm stood a merman, whose outstretched

arm was the handle by which the rudder, or fish’s tail, was worked.

Instead of sails, the vessel was rigged out with griffins’ wings, the

advantage of which was, that they enabled it to go against both wind

and tide, when such a course was thought desirable. The merman was so

marvellously fashioned out of cedar-wood from Mount Lebanon, that it

could steer wherever the travellers wished without their help. There

were other wonders on board the ship, such as a cap of darkness, a ring

with a stone ensuring victory to the wearer, a shirt of palm-silk, and

many other things. The shirt seemed as though it would only fit a

little child; but when Sigeminne put it on her lover, it grew bigger

and bigger, until it fitted him exactly.

“Take great care of it,” she said, “and wear it whenever you are in any

danger, for it will protect you alike from steel and stone, from fire

and dragon’s tooth.”

Wafted by the griffins’ wings, the vessel clove the western sea, swift

as the wind, and soon brought the travellers to Old-Troja. There the

people received their beloved queen with shouts of joy, and cheered

loud and long when she introduced the stately warrior Wolfdieterich as

her future husband. The marriage was solemnized with great festivities,

and a life of joy began for the new king. By the side of his fair wife

he forgot all his misfortunes and sorrows, and, alas! even the Eleven

Friends he had left in peril of their lives. Now and then, when he was

alone, the memory of all that had come and gone would cross his mind

like something he had dreamt, and then he would reproach himself with

neglecting his duty; but Sigeminne had only to take his hand, and he

once more forgot that honour and duty alike bade him be up and doing.

Once when he, his wife, and the whole court were out hunting, a

wondrous stag with golden horns broke out of a neighbouring thicket. He

did not seem to be afraid, but, after looking at the hunters, turned

back to the wood.

“Up, good folk,” cried Sigeminne. “Whoever kills that stag, and brings

me the golden antlers, shall stand high in my favour, and receive a

ring from my own hand.”

A number of huntsmen started in pursuit, first among them

Wolfdieterich. The stag led him by many devious paths, only to

disappear at last. Wolfdieterich returned to the tents much

disappointed. When he got there, he found all in confusion; for that

terrible magician, Giant Drusian, followed by many armed dwarfs, had

fallen on the camp during the absence of the king and his warriors, and

had carried off the queen. No one knew where he had taken her to.

Wolfdieterich was now as much alone in the world, and as wretched, as

he had been that terrible day in the desert. One thought filled his

mind—the thought of Sigeminne. He would seek her through the world;

and if he could not find her, he would die!

He exchanged his royal robes for a pilgrim’s dress, and hid his sword

in a hollow staff, which served to support him on his journey. Thus

accoutred, he wandered through many lands, asking everywhere for the

castle of Giant Drusian. At length he learnt from a tiny dwarf, that

the man he sought lived in the lofty mountains far over the sea, and

that many dwarfs owned him for their lord. He set out again, and

journeyed on and on, till at length the castle came in sight. He sat

down to rest by a spring, and gazed longingly at the place where, as he

believed and hoped, he should find his wife. His fatigue was so great

that he fell asleep, dreamt of her, and was happy in his dreams.

All at once he was wakened by a rough voice, and a blow on the ribs.

“What, ho! pilgrim,” said the voice. “Have you snored long enough? Come

home with me, and have some food. My wife wants to look at you.”

Wolfdieterich sprang to his feet, and followed the giant who had

wakened him so roughly, and who now strode before him to the castle. He

knew that he had reached the end of his pilgrimage, and entered the

wide hall with thanksgiving and joy.

There sat Sigeminne, her eyes red with weeping; and as she looked at

him, he saw that she knew who he was. He pulled himself together with a

violent effort not to betray his identity.

“There, wife,” growled Drusian, “there’s the priest you wanted to see,

that he might speak to you about his religion. What a mite he is, to be

sure, and as dumb as a lizard into the bargain! There, bag-of-bones,”

he added, turning to the pilgrim, “sit down by the fire, and see if

some of our good food will not warm your thin blood.”

The pilgrim did as he was desired, for, anxious and excited as he felt,

he was starving. Dwarfs brought in food and drink, and he ate till his

hunger was satisfied. The giant questioned him up and down, and

received short answers, some of them, it must be confessed, far enough

from the truth!

As twilight deepened, Drusian seized the lady by the hand, and pulled

her from her seat, saying, “There, you see the son of the alraun, who

freed you from the bearskin, he will not succeed in freeing you from me

a second time. He fears a broken skull too much. The term you asked for

is over now, so come with me.”

He would have dragged Sigeminne from the room, but the pilgrim had

already thrown aside his disguise, and drawn his sword from the hollow

staff.

“Back, monster,” he shouted, “that is my wife.” With these words he

sprang upon the giant. The suddenness of the attack made the latter

jump back, exclaiming, “Why, alraun, are _you_ Wolfdieterich? If that

is the case, we must have everything fair and in order. You must arm

and fight with me—if you are brave enough, that is to say. Sigeminne

shall be the wife of the conqueror.”

[Illustration: WOLFDIETERICH FIGHTS WITH DRUSIAN FOR HIS WIFE.]

The hero consented to fight the duel, and the dwarfs brought him three

suits of armour to choose from. One was of gold, the second of silver,

and the third of iron, very heavy, but old and rusty. He chose the

last, but kept his own sword. Drusian also put on his coat of mail, and

caught up his battle-axe.

After some time, Wolfdieterich’s shield was broken by a violent blow

from his opponent’s axe. The hero seemed lost; but avoiding the next

blow, and grasping his sword with both hands, he struck so hard a

stroke that the sharp blade cut deep down through neck and shoulder.

Scarcely had the monster fallen, when the dwarfs swarmed round the

victor with their small daggers and spears to avenge their master. The

fine needle-points pierced the rings of his armour, but the palm-silk

shirt protected the solitary warrior from every wound. At last he

forced them back, and husband and wife were able to clasp each other’s

hands, and to assure one another of a love that would last till death.

“Let us away from this cursed house,” cried the hero; “who can tell but

the dwarfish rabble are spinning new toils for us.”

They hastened out into the deserted court, and then sought a stable, in

which they found two saddled horses. These they mounted, and rode away.

After a long and tiring journey, they reached Old-Troja, where the

return of the queen and her brave husband was greeted with joy.

Sigeminne ruled her people with a gentle hand, but justly and firmly;

no wonder, then, that they loved her. After her return, she was even

sweeter and more thoughtful for others than she had ever been before;

but she was pale and thin, and what was worse, grew paler and thinner

day by day. One evening, when she and her husband were sitting alone

together, she raised her sweet face to his and said, “When I am gone,

you must go back to your own country and people, for then you will be

looked upon as a stranger and usurper here, and the land might be

wasted by civil war.”

The thought of her death cut him to the heart, but he strove to look

cheerful for fear of distressing his wife. He redoubled his anxious

care of her, but all in vain: her doom was sealed. He had been strong

enough to conquer the giant and save his wife, but he was powerless to

save her now. She died in his arms, and he laid her in her early grave.