There was once an emperor of Rome (Romaburg) called Dietwart. His name
was known far and wide for his great deeds. At last, wishing to marry,
he sent an embassy to King Ladmer of Westenmer to ask for the hand of
his daughter. Ladmer professed himself highly honoured that so great an
emperor should wish to be allied with his house, and begged that
Dietwart would come to Westenmer and see the princess; that done, the
two young people might make up their minds whether they were suited to
each other. Dietwart consented, and after a stormy passage arrived at
his destination, accompanied by a hundred of his bravest warriors.
Ladmer received his guest with all courtesy, and told him how glad he
would be to have him for a son-in-law, but that the choice of a husband
lay with the princess herself, for he would never constrain his
daughter to marry against her will.
At the feast given in his honour, Dietwart dressed himself like his
men; but the princess, whose duty it was to offer wine to her father’s
guests, soon saw which was which, and filled his goblet first. That
evening her father asked her what she thought of the stranger, and she
replied,—
“He seems to be a great prince, but I do not know his ways; and until I
know that they are pleasant in my eyes, I will not marry him, as I
might be very unhappy far away from all I love, in a foreign land.”
Her father kissed her, and told her she must do as she pleased, but in
his heart of hearts he hoped she would say “yes.”
A great hunt was arranged for the following day, the object of which
was the destruction of a number of stags, for they had grown so
numerous that they had done a great deal of mischief in the
neighbourhood.
Now it happened that Princess Minnie was a mighty huntress, so she
begged her father to let her join him on that day also, for she loved
the sport, and, as he knew, her arrow could reach its goal as surely as
that of any man. Dietwart did not much relish seeing her so employed.
He thought it was not maidenly, and confided to his friends that he
would rather seek a wife among the daughters of the great princes at
home, than wed such a hoyden as the Lady Minnie. But however that might
be, it was his duty, and theirs, as men, to see that the giddy girl got
into no danger through her foolhardiness.
As they were going down a narrow glen, Minnie wounded a splendid stag,
and the dogs set out in pursuit; while the princess, drawing another
arrow from her quiver, hastened after them. Suddenly the dogs set up a
simultaneous howl, and rushed out of the thicket. The ladies of the
court shrieked aloud. “The worm,” they cried, “the lind-worm! Come
back, Lady Minnie, come back!” and at the same moment, turning quickly,
they fled across the valley, and took refuge on the top of a
neighbouring hill.
A frightful hissing, cracking and trampling was heard, and the dragon
crept out of the thicket, its jaws wide open, ready to seize its prey.
It was a sight to make the bravest man tremble. Princess Minnie shot
three arrows, one after the other, straight at the monster; but they
glanced harmless off its horny scales. She turned to fly, but her foot
caught in a branch, and she fell to the ground. She seemed lost, for
the dragon was making ready to spring upon her. Dietwart and his men
were close at hand. The latter threw themselves on the worm; while the
former took his stand before the girl to defend her. It was a horrible
sight.
Lances, swords, arrows were no defence. They could not pierce the
monster’s scales, and one brave man after another was caught in its
claws, or was torn by its terrible teeth, which in shape resembled the
anchors of a ship. Dietwart rushed to the assistance of his friends. He
struck at the lind-worm’s neck with his lance, but the point slipped
from the scales, and the dragon tore his breast with its claws. It
opened its great jaws as wide as it could, to seize and devour him; but
the hero thrust the shaft of his spear into its gigantic mouth, and
worked it round and round with such force that the point came out at
the other side. A stream of poison, and flames of fire issued from the
creature’s nostrils, and the hero fell fainting to the ground, the
dying monster on the top of him.
Dietwart was roused from his insensibility by feeling himself violently
shaken. When he opened his eyes, he saw the princess struggling to free
him from the dragon’s body. Some woodmen came up and helped her. When
at last he rose to his feet, he was so weak that he could not stand;
and the men made a litter of wattled boughs, on which they carried him
to the palace. The wound on his chest was carefully bound up, and no
one thought much of it, because the flesh alone had been torn; but it
festered badly, and the edges turned black, as though they had been
burnt. The doctors declared that some of the dragon’s poisonous breath
had touched it, and they feared for the hero’s life. The king, the
court, nay the whole country, mourned for the man who had rid them of
the monster.
One morning, as Dietwart lay sunk in a feverish doze after the intense
pain of the night, he felt a hand busied about his wound. Strange to
say, the hand felt both softer and gentler than that of the doctor. He
opened his eyes, and recognised the princess. He watched her carefully
remove the bandages, and drop some liquid from a bottle into his
burning wound. The pain at once left him. He would have thanked her,
but she signed to him to be silent. After she had replaced the
bandages, and motioned to the nurses to be still, she went away as
gently as she had come. The wounded man felt as free from pain as if an
angel had brought him some of the water of life. He fell into a quiet
slumber. At night the pain returned, but the next morning Minnie came
back, and poured balm into his wound. On the third morning she came
again. He felt so much stronger, that he could not refrain from seizing
her hand and pressing it to his lips. She withdrew it gently, and went
away signing to him once more to hold his peace.
The doctor rejoiced at the rapid recovery of his patient. When told
what had happened, he said that the royal maid had received the
miraculous balm from her mother on her death-bed, and that she was
forbidden to use it except in cases of great necessity, and for those
she loved.
“For those she loved?” repeated the hero; and he felt strangely happy.
When he was well again, he one day met her alone in the garden, and
told her of his love. They talked together for a long time; and when
good King Ladmer heard of their engagement, he gave them his blessing.
The marriage feast was soon afterwards held, and there, in the middle
of the table, as one of its greatest ornaments, was one of the dragon’s
teeth set in silver—a nice little tooth it was, weighing at least half
a hundred weight.
The husband and wife set out for Rome. The winds and waves favoured
them, and they soon reached Dietwart’s native land. The legend informs
us that they lived very happily together for four hundred years, and
had forty-four children, of whom one son, Sigeher, alone survived them.
But it does not tell us whether the Lady Minnie took kindly to her
household duties, or always remained fonder of field sports than of
needlework.
_DIETRICH OF BERN._