Ecke was the eldest son of the once powerful king Mentiger by the
mermaid whom he made his queen. He loved Queen Seeburg, who lived at
Cologne in the Rhineland. Seeburg had a great desire to see King
Dietrich, and Ecke on hearing of it, promised to bring him to her, or
die in the attempt. She, on her side, said that she would be his wife
if he came home successful. He went, met Dietrich, and after showing
prodigies of valour, died at his hands, much to the sorrow of the king,
who had learnt to love him during the few hours of their acquaintance.
When Dietrich returned to Bern after slaying Ecke, Heime came out to
meet him, and was so outspoken in his joy at seeing him again, that the
king, much touched, gave him his good sword Nagelring as a sign of his
friendship. The warrior received it with delight, and kissed the trusty
blade twice or thrice, as he said:
“I will wear this sword for the glory of my king, and will never part
with it as long as I live.”
“You are unworthy of the sword,” cried Wittich, who had come up with
the other warriors: “Do you remember how you left your weapon in its
sheath when the robbers were attacking me, and that Hildebrand and
Hornboge alone helped me?”
“Your self-sufficiency had made me angry, as your spiteful tongue does
now. I will cut it out.”
Both men put their hands to their swords, but the king stepped between
them, and desired them to keep the peace in the castle. When he learnt
all that had happened, Dietrich told Heime that he might go his way,
because it was not seemly in a warrior to leave his comrade unaided in
danger. But he added, that when he had shown by brave deeds that he was
really a hero, he might return to them once more.
“Well, sire, I think I shall win myself greater wealth by Nagelring
than I lose in the castles you now take from me.”
Having thus spoken, the bold warrior sprang on his horse, and rode away
without taking leave of any one. He rode on, till he reached the Wisara
(Weser), where he drew a band of robbers around him, and wrought great
mischief. He plundered the defenceless country-people, and even bold
warriors had to pay him black mail; and thus, through highway robbery,
he became the owner of a great hoard of wealth, which he was never
tired of increasing.
Dietrich had to tell his friends of his terrible combat with the hero
Ecke, in which he had won the beautiful suit of armour he brought home
with him, and the good sword Ecke-sax. One day, when the warriors were
discussing this subject, a monk entered the hall, and remained standing
humbly near the door. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his cowl
was pulled forward so as to hide his face. The servants began to play
him tricks, until at last the monk, growing impatient, seized one of
his persecutors by the ear, and held him up shrieking in the air.
When the king asked the reason of the noise, the monk stepped forward,
and begged a morsel of bread for a half-starved penitent. Dietrich came
forward himself, and commanded food and drink to be placed before the
brother; but his astonishment was great when the monk pushed back his
cowl, and displayed well rounded cheeks that bore no trace of
starvation. He was still more surprised when he saw the quantity of
food and wine the reverend brother could dispose of.
“The holy man has the appetite of a wolf,” murmured the bystanders.
“Five long years have I done penance by prayer, fasting and
water-drinking,” he said, “and have now license from the venerable
prior to go out into the world, and lay penance on other sinners. Now,”
he continued, going on with his meal, “ye be all miserable sinners with
your continual feasting and drinking, and I call upon you to do
penance, and be converted, that your sins be blotted out.”
Then he intoned, in a loud ringing voice, “O Sanctissima.”
[Illustration: FRIAR ILSAN’S CONJURING OF WILDEBER.]
Master Hildebrand had joined the group, and now exclaimed:
“Why, it is my own dear brother, Ilsan the Monk.”
“Culpa mea,” cried the monk; “touch me not, unholy brother. Confess,
and do penance, that thou go not straight to hell like the others.”
“But,” said the master, “we are all collected here together to convert,
by kindness or force, all monsters, giants, and dwarfs; so, my reverend
brother, I now beg of you to lay aside your robes, and once more become
one of us.”
“Convert, say you? Yea, I have license to convert the heathen, and will
therefore join you in your pious work.”
With these words, the monk flung off his robes, and stood before them
dressed in full armour.
“Here,” he cried, touching his broadsword, “is my preacher’s staff, and
here,” pointing to his coat of mail, “my breviary. St. Kilian pray for
me and for all of us, Ora pro nobis.”
He sat down amongst the warriors, who had all known the stout monk
Ilsan for many years. He drank and sang, now psalms, now songs, and
told merry tales of his life in the monastery.
Evening came on apace. Candles and torches were lighted. Suddenly every
one was startled by a strange creature pattering in at the door. It was
like a bear to look upon. Its head resembled that of a boar, but its
hands and feet were of human form. The monster stood as though rooted
to the threshold, and appeared to be considering on whom first to make
its spring.
“An evil spirit,” cried Ilsan; “a soul escaped from the purgatorial
fire. I will address it. Conjuro te ...” He paused, for the monster had
turned its face to him.
“I will drag him back to his purgatory again,” cried bold Wolfhart,
springing over the table, and seizing the creature by its fur. But pull
and tug as he might, he could not move it by so much as an inch. It
quietly gave the warrior such a kick, that he fell head over heels into
the middle of the hall.
Hornboge, Wittich, and other warriors tried to push the monster out
with their united strength, but in vain.
“Give room, brave comrades,” cried the angry king. “I will see whether
the monster is proof against my sword Ecke-sax.”
“Sire,” interrupted Master Hildebrand, catching him by the arm, “look;
do you not see a golden bracelet, sparkling with precious stones, on
the creature’s wrist? It is a man—perhaps a brave warrior.”
“Well,” said the king, turning to his strange guest, “if you are indeed
a hero, doff your disguise. Join us, and be our faithful comrade.”
On hearing these words, the strange guest threw off boar’s head and
bear’s skin, and stood before the king and his followers clad in armour.
“I know you now,” said Hildebrand. “You are the brave hero Wildeber,
surnamed The Strong. And the gold bracelet is the gift of a
swan-maiden, and makes your strength double. But why did you so
disguise yourself? Every brave man is a welcome guest to our king.”
Wildeber seated himself by the master’s side, emptied a goblet of
sparkling wine, and said:
“Once, after fighting a hard fight with robbers, I lay down to sleep on
the bank of a lake. Suddenly I was awakened by a splashing in the
water. Turning my eyes in the direction of the noise, I saw a beautiful
maiden bathing. I spied her swan-garment lying on the bank, crept up to
it softly, took it, and hid it. The maiden sought it everywhere, and
when she could not find it, she began to weep aloud. I went to her, and
begged that she would follow me home and be my wife. But she wept the
more, and said that she must die if she were deprived of her bird’s
dress. I was sorry for her, and gave it back, whereupon she gave me
this bracelet, which increases my strength immensely; but she told me
that to preserve it I must wander about as a bear with a boar’s head,
until the most famous king on earth chose me to be one of his comrades.
If I did not obey her, she warned me that the virtue of the jewel would
depart, and I should soon be slain in battle. Having thus spoken, she
flew away. That is why I came to you in such disguise, brave hero,” he
continued, addressing Dietrich; “and as you have received me into the
ranks of your comrades of your own free will, I hope that the bracelet
will retain its magic power as long as I live.”
“Pax vobiscum!” stammered the monk, as he staggered away to bed. The
other warriors soon followed his example, and silence reigned in the
palace.