The lovely maiden Chriemhild, who lived in the land of Burgundy, was
the daughter of King Dankrat and his wife, the Lady Ute. Her father had
long been dead; but his three sons, Gunther, Gernot, and the boy
Giselherr, nicknamed “The Child,” regarded their beautiful sister as
the costliest pearl in their crown. The royal brothers were surrounded
by brave warriors, to whom fear was unknown. First among these was grim
Hagen of Tronje, un-beautiful of face, and one-eyed, but known and
feared, both in the land of the Teuts and in that of the Latins. He
enjoyed great honour for another reason, that he was the uncle of the
kings. After him came his brother, the marshal Dankwart; Ortewin of
Metz; the Margraves Gere and Eckewart; Rumolt, the chief cook; Volker
of Alzeyen, the faithful minstrel; Sindolt, the cup-bearer; and Hunolt,
the steward. These and many other brave men, too numerous to mention,
served the kings, and guarded their interests.
Young Chriemhild lived very much alone. She loved to wander about the
garden and under the shady trees, and hated all sights and sounds of
war. Her brothers once persuaded her to go out hunting with them; but a
roe-deer fell dead at her horse’s feet, and the sight so distressed
her, that she went straight home, and could never be induced to go out
hunting again.
One day the queen entered her daughter’s room at an early hour, and
seeing her look sad and troubled, she asked what ailed her.
Chriemhild answered: “I dreamed that I had brought up a noble falcon,
and had grown very fond of it; but once, when I let it fly up among the
cliffs, two eagles attacked and killed it before my very eyes.”
“My child,” said the mother gravely, “the falcon is some noble warrior,
whom you will learn to love with all your heart; and the eagles are two
false men, who will seek to compass his death by cunning. May God give
you strength and wisdom to turn their plans to nought!”
“Mother!” said Chriemhild, “do not speak to me of men. I fear to go
amongst them. If there were no men on the earth, there would be no more
wars or bloodshed.”
“Who knows?” answered her mother, laughing. “Women often shed more
blood, and cut deeper with their tongues, than any man with his sword.
But the time will come when you will learn to love some hero, and will
become his wife and chief admirer.”
“Never,” cried the maiden in a voice of horror. “Mother, you terrify me
even more than my dream.”
Ute and Chriemhild went down to the garden. They had not been there
long when they heard the sound of horses prancing in the court, and
horns blowing. The queen went to see what was going on, and soon came
back to tell her daughter of the arrival of some strange warriors in
shining armour, and mounted on beautiful horses. She asked the girl to
come and help her to receive the guests. But Chriemhild refused to do
so, and Ute returned to the palace alone. Meanwhile Gunther and his
brothers had heard of the coming of the strangers. No one knew who they
were, so Hagen was sent for, and he at once recognised Siegfried. He
further advised his nephew to receive the hero and his men with all
honour, and to enter into friendly alliance with them.
Gunther resolved to follow Hagen’s counsel; but Siegfried said that he
had come to prove to his own satisfaction whether the Burgundian
warriors were as great in battle as he had always heard. He offered
them the Nibelung realm and treasure as the prize of victory, and said
that for his own part he was ready to defend himself against double or
threefold the number of his own party, if the kings of Burgundy would
venture their kingdom against his. Bold Ortewin and other Burgundian
heroes answered that it was not their habit to fight strange warriors
for aught else than their armour and horses. And King Gernot came
forward and said,—
“Lord Siegfried, we want neither your goods nor your blood; I rather
desire to receive you as an honoured guest, and become your friend and
ally, if you will also be ours.” So saying, he held out his hand, which
Siegfried clasped in his, as he replied:
“God be my witness that I will be your faithful friend and ally, and if
you ever come to see me, I shall greet you as honoured comrades.”
The Nibelungs then followed their hosts into the banqueting hall, where
many a toast was drunk to the success of the new alliance.
Siegfried enjoyed his stay in the land of roses and vineyards. The days
passed happily in hunting or jousting; but a great longing to see fair
Chriemhild soon took possession of him, and grew stronger every day,
for he was always hearing of her sweetness, modesty, and
gentleness—qualities that had ever pleased him best in women.
Chriemhild had also heard of him; but the only time she had ever seen
him was once when curiosity led her to peep out of a high window, when
he was jousting in the court below. He seemed to her like the white god
Balder, of whose beauty and glory her forefathers had told many a tale.
At that very moment, he looked up, and she shrank away, fearing lest he
had seen her; but he had not. Chriemhild could not understand herself.
She hoped that he would stay at Worms—she, who had never before cared
who came or went.
An embassy from Daneland and Saxonland arrived at Worms. The kings
Lüdegast and Lüdeger declared war against Burgundy, if the kings of
Burgundy did not at once pay them tribute, as in olden times.
The tribute was refused, and the Burgundian army was called out.
Siegfried and his men joined King Gunther’s forces. The armies met. The
Danes and Saxons numbered forty thousand; the Burgundian forces were
much fewer. Each side fought bravely, but Siegfried’s performances were
perhaps more wonderful than any other man’s. He took King Lüdegast
prisoner, and brought him sorely wounded into camp; handed him over to
the care of servants, and returned to the battle. The fight raged on
for hours. Grim Hagen was always in the front rank, and near him were
Volker, Sindolt, and Hunolt. Siegfried fought by their side, always
keeping the king of Saxony in sight. At length he reached Lüdeger, and
swung his sword over his head. Then the Saxon king exclaimed,—
“Ha, Siegfried of the Netherlands, the devil has given me into your
hands. I acknowledge myself your prisoner.”
The battle was at an end, and the victors, covered with glory and laden
with booty, set out on their return to the Rhine. They were received at
Worms with great joy, and Siegfried’s name was in every mouth. King
Gunther prepared a feast of victory, which was to take place some weeks
later, so that the wounded warriors might be well enough to take part
in it. Lüdeger and Lüdegast offered a large ransom for their liberty.
While the Burgundians were debating what sum it would be proper to
demand, Siegfried exclaimed:
“A king’s head is neither to be bought nor ransomed for gold, silver,
or precious stones. It can only be won in love through well-doing. Let
the imprisoned kings go free, provided they promise Burgundy their help
in war.”
When the days of feasting were over, the guests all took their leave,
and the Nibelung hero was about to do the same. But Gunther, acting on
Ortewin’s advice, begged him to tarry a little longer, for the women,
and more especially his sister, Chriemhild, wished to show him their
gratitude. The hero’s face lighted up with pleasure, while he answered
that in that case he would stay. When the king went to the women to
tell them what he wished them to do, he felt at the bottom of his heart
a little fear lest his sister should refuse; but, though she blushed,
she consented to do his will.
At the time appointed, she entered the hall at Lady Ute’s side; and as
she entered, her eyes and Siegfried’s met. She said a few words to him
with her usual gentle courtesy, and his heart beat with a feeling he
had never known before. No one in the crowd noticed the look that had
passed between them except Queen Ute, who rejoiced to see it, for she
loved them both. She contrived that the hero should sit next to her
daughter at the feast, and that he should afterwards join them in the
garden, while the other warriors sat over their wine.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]