It was a beautiful moonlight night when Wolfdieterich reached Garden.
He dismounted, and standing under the shadow of an olive-tree, he
looked about him. He saw two women walking on the sea-shore. One of
them was tall and stately. When she threw back her veil, he nearly
uttered a cry of astonishment, she was so like Sigeminne. Had the grave
given up its dead, or had some deceitful elf taken the beloved form to
lead him into danger?
He stood breathless to listen, and heard Queen Liebgart, for it was
she, complain to her serving-maid of the manifold sorrows and
indignities she had been forced to endure.
“The cowardly vassals!” she said. “They have courage enough to frighten
a weak woman, but no one dares to do the only thing that I desire on
earth—to avenge the death of their king on the monster that killed
him. And yet I have promised, although unwillingly, to give my hand to
the true knight and hero that will do this thing!”
“There is only one man,” said the maid, “who could do the deed, and
that is the Greek Wolfdieterich, whose fame is spread abroad in every
land.”
“The avenger is come, great queen,” said the hero, stepping out of the
shade where he had stood. “I will venture my life to conquer the
dragon.”
The two women started back in alarm.
“It is Wolfdieterich!” cried the maid. “He once saved me from a band of
robbers.”
“Thanks, noble hero,” said Liebgart, “and may Heaven protect you on
your quest! But—the monster will take your life as it did my
husband’s. Nay, go your way in peace, and leave me to my fate.”
But when the Greek showed her that his mind was firm, Liebgart gave him
a ring which the dwarf had told her would bring good luck to the
wearer, wished him all success, and then returned to Castle Garden.
Without more delay the hero turned his horse to the mountains, and made
the best of his way to the lind-worm’s hole, which at length he
reached. He peeped into the dark cavern, and saw five dragons’ heads
staring and hissing at him. These were the young “worms”—the old one
had gone out to seek for food. The hero was about to slay them there
and then, but it suddenly occurred to him that it would be better if
the old worm knew nothing of his coming, and it would be an easy task
to kill the little ones when the mother was dead. So remounting his
horse, he set out in search of the monster. As he rode on slowly, he
saw a beautiful child standing on a rock. It called to him,—
“You are come to revenge my son Ortnit; beware that you sleep not, for
if you sleep my son will remain unrevenged, and you will fall a prey to
the dragon.”
“My good friend,” laughed the hero, “you are too young to be a father.
I advise you to look out for yourself. You would be a sweeter morsel
for the monster than I!”
And setting spurs to his horse, he rode away laughing. Like Ortnit, he
came first to the high cliffs, and then to the meadow, where clover
grass and flowers grew in wonderful profusion. A linden-tree shaded
part of it from the heat of the mid-day sun. The hero was tired after
his long journey and wakeful night. He stretched himself in the shade
to rest, while his horse grazed in the meadow. Fatigue, the fresh sweet
air, and the song of the birds in the branches overhead, all combined
to make him drowsy, so he gradually fell asleep.
Perfect peace reigned in the quiet spot. It seemed as though it might
last for ever, but suddenly it was broken by a horrible hissing, a
crashing of rocks and breaking of trees. The dreadful monster, the
terror of the land, was drawing near. At the same moment Alberich
exclaimed:
“Wake, noble hero; sleep no more; the lind-worm is upon you.”
The dwarf repeated his warning several times in vain. The faithful
horse galloped up to his master, and kicked him, but he did not awake.
It was not until the dragon gave utterance to a loud and hideous roar,
that made the rocks crack and the mountains tremble, that the hero was
at last aroused from his trance. He sprang to his feet and attacked the
monster; but his weapons were all too weak for the work they had to
do—they broke like reeds on the creature’s hide, without doing it any
injury. So he flung the handle of his broken sword in the monster’s
face, and commended his soul to God, for he was defenceless. The worm
caught him up in the coils of its long tail, and at the same moment
seized the horse in its great jaws. Then it bore its victims away to
its den, and threw them down as food for its young. After which, it
went away again in search of more food. The little dragons tried to
devour Wolfdieterich, but could not, he was so well protected by his
shirt of palm-silk, so they thrust him aside unconscious, and turned
their attention to the horse, which they soon disposed of.
In the middle of the night Wolfdieterich came to himself, and began to
look about him carefully. The moonlight penetrated the cavern, and
showed him at a little distance something that shone bright red. He
moved towards it cautiously for fear of waking the dragons, and found
that the object which had attracted his eye was a huge carbuncle in a
sword-hilt. He at once knew that this must be the sword Rosen, and took
possession of it, as well as of the rest of Ortnit’s armour that he
found lying uninjured amongst other coats of mail, which however were
all more or less broken. With the armour he found a ring. This he put
upon his finger. His preparations were no sooner completed than
daybreak came, and with it the old lind-worm. He at once attacked her,
and, thanks to the magic sword, slew her and all her brood after a hard
struggle. Thoroughly exhausted, he threw himself under a tree, where he
lay panting and breathless. There Alberich found him, and revived him
with food and wine.
Before the victorious hero set out on his return to Garden, he went
back into the dragon’s den to get the heads of the monsters; but when
he had cut them off, he found that they were much too heavy to carry,
so he contented himself with taking their tongues. These he put in a
leather bag that one of Alberich’s dwarfs brought him for the purpose,
and then began his journey, which was made longer and more wearisome by
having to be done on foot. He often lost his way amongst the wild
mountains, and did not reach his destination for many days.
When he got to Garden, he found the castle full of feasting and mirth.
Wondering much, he went to a pious hermit who lived near, and asked him
the meaning of what was going on. From him he learnt that the Burgrave
Gerhart had slain the lind-worm, and was to be married to beautiful
Liebgart that very evening. Wolfdieterich then begged the holy man to
lend him priestly garments, and having received those that had formerly
belonged to brother Martin, the hermit’s predecessor, he put them on
over the armour he had found in the dragon’s cave, and repaired to the
castle.
He entered the great hall, and saw Burgrave Gerhart, nicknamed “Hawk’s
Nose,” seated next to the pale queen, who, with her maidens, filled the
glasses of the guests. Above the Burgrave’s chair were the dragons’
heads, symbols of his victory. When the queen saw the pretended hermit,
she took him a cup of wine, which he emptied at a draught, and then
gave back, after having slipped into it the ring she had given him on
the evening he started on his quest. Liebgart did not notice the ring
till she had returned to her seat by Gerhart’s side. Then she trembled
violently, but forcing down her emotion, she desired the hermit to
approach, and tell her from whom he got the ring.
“Lady, you gave it me yourself,” he said, throwing aside his disguise.
Every eye was fixed on him as he stood in the middle of the hall, clad
in Ortnit’s wondrous armour, and looking more like a god than a mortal
man. When, advancing to the queen, he laid her husband’s ring in her
hand, and told her how and where he had found it, many voices cried,
“Hail to the avenger of our king, the slayer of the dragon and its
brood! Hail to the new king of Lombardy!”
Burgrave Gerhart was not to be put aside so easily. He pointed to the
dragons’ heads as proofs of his right; but when Wolfdieterich produced
the tongues from his wallet, there was no more to be said but for
Burgrave Gerhart to beg the hero’s pardon. This he received on
condition of swearing fealty.
Wolfdieterich was now proclaimed king of Lombardy, and was told that he
was expected to marry the queen.
“My lords,” he said, “as ruler of this kingdom, I am also the servant
of my people, and am bound to labour for their welfare. But as regards
personal matters, such as the choice of a wife, I must be free, and the
queen must also be free to choose as she lists. She is yet mourning the
loss of her first husband. But if she holds me worthy to succeed him,
and thinks that my love and reverence will comfort her for his loss, I
offer her my hand for life.”
Liebgart, remembering what Ortnit had said to her, placed her hand in
the hero’s, and was married to him before long.
Wolfdieterich was no longer the impetuous boy who had left Lilienporte,
but a man who could act with wisdom, prudence and forethought. He felt
that his first duty was to restore peace and quiet to Lombardy, and
that only after that was done would he be at liberty to consult his own
wishes, and start to the assistance of his faithful servants. A year
was spent in this labour, and then he told his wife that he must go to
Lilienporte. She wept and said that she feared lest, like Ortnit, he
should never return, but in the same breath confessed that he was
right, and helped him to make ready for his journey and that of his
army, which was to number sixty thousand men.