Master Hildebrand held watch. Not contented with keeping a distant
look-out on the enemy’s movements, he went to see with his own eyes
what was passing within their lines. A thick mist covered the earth,
and hid every object from view. Suddenly the old master and his
companion, Eckehart, heard the tramp of a horse. They drew their
swords, and waited. At the same moment the moon broke through the mist,
and they recognised by its light Rinold of Milan, who, although one of
Ermenrich’s men, was at the same time a friend of theirs. They greeted
each other heartily, and Rinold said that if he might advise Dietrich,
he would counsel him to return to the land of the Huns, where he had
made himself a home; for the emperor was too powerful to be overthrown.
After taking leave of their friend, Hildebrand looked about carefully,
and discovered a path leading through a wood by which he could outflank
the imperial forces unperceived. On his return to the camp, he arranged
with Dietrich that he should take three divisions by this path, and
fall upon the enemy at daybreak. Meantime, the king was to be ready to
attack in front, the moment he heard Hildebrand’s horn sound to the
rear of the enemy.
No sooner had the sun risen than the battle began. Great deeds of
valour were done on either side. It were an endless task to tell of
each hero’s achievements. Among those who fell were the two young sons
of Etzel, who showed themselves worthy of their name.
During the course of that day, Dietrich and Wittich met at last, and it
was in this wise. Twilight was drawing on apace, when Wittich, led by
his evil star, or by his companion, Rinold of Milan, went back to visit
the outpost. Dietrich saw them go, and, remounting, galloped across the
valley towards the height, and the other two turned to meet him. When
Wittich saw the king riding towards him, his face distorted by the
angry spirit that possessed him, and his breath issuing from his mouth
like flames of fire, a terror he had never known before overmastered
him. He turned his horse and fled, followed by Rinold.
“Halt, cowards, halt!” cried the king. “Two against one! surely ye are
strong enough?”
“Halt, comrade!” said Rinold, “I cannot bear the shame of this.”
Wittich turned; but no sooner did he see the terrible face and flaming
breath of his old leader, than he fled once more, leaving Rinold alone
to bear the brunt of the attack.
“Stop, traitor,” shouted Dietrich. “You have the sword Mimung in your
hand, with which you once conquered me at Bern, and do you now fear to
stand?”
But Wittich, by encouraging words, and a free use of the spur, urged
his noble steed to a yet swifter pace. The king did the same, and
Falcon was even fleeter than Wittich’s gallant charger. The surf might
now be heard beating on the sea-shore. The fugitive warrior reached the
strand. He could fly no farther. And behold, at the same moment, two
white arms and a woman’s head rose out of the waves.
“Wachilde—ancestress—save me—hide me from that spirit of hell,” he
cried, and took the terrible leap.
And Wachilde received him in her arms, and bore him to her crystal hall
at the bottom of the sea. Dietrich did not hesitate to follow. The
waters swept over him and his horse, but Falcon rose again and swam
through the roaring surf to the shore. The king looked all about, but
Wittich had vanished. He could see nothing but the foaming waves. Sadly
the king returned to the camp, having found neither the vengeance nor
the death he had sought.
The Huns declared that they would return home as soon as they had
buried their princes with fitting honour. Dietrich heard their
determination unmoved. He was thinking of those who had fallen. Master
Hildebrand, on the other hand, did what he could to induce them to
follow up the victory that they had gained the previous day; but it was
labour lost. They had had enough of fighting at the battle of Ravenna.
Broken-hearted, Dietrich returned to King Etzel, by whom he was
received with the greatest kindness, in spite of all that had come and
gone. He sank into a state of sorrowful brooding and melancholy, until
at length Herrat, his faithful wife, came to him, and spoke words of
comfort and encouragement. And he roused from his dull woe, and started
again for fair Lombardy, accompanied by the Queen.
[Illustration]