One day when the king was playing with little Ortlieb, and speaking to
his mother, he said how much he wished that the child should one day be
a hero like Siegfried. She nearly shrieked when she heard the name, but
forcing herself to be quiet, begged her husband to invite her brothers
and their friends to come on a visit to the land of the Huns. It was
the first request that she had ever made, and so King Etzel was
overjoyed to hear it. He despatched the minstrels Swemmeling and
Wörbeling, with four and twenty noble warriors, to invite the
Burgundian kings to the Midsummer festival. And Chriemhild sent a
special message to her mother, begging her to come too. In spite of
Hagen’s remonstrances, the three kings accepted Etzel’s invitation.
Hagen prepared for the journey as though they were setting out on a
campaign, and not to a feast. The Lady Ute would have liked to go, but
her age and infirmities hindered her taking so long a journey. Brunhild
also remained at home, for she had no desire to see her enemy’s good
fortune; besides, she had long given up caring for festivals; she only
cared to spend her time near Siegfried’s grave-mound.
“The Nibelungs are going to visit the Huns,” said the common people, as
they watched King Etzel’s visitors crossing the Rhine; for, ever since
the treasure had come into the country, the kings and their followers
had been called Nibelungs, after the unknown land.
The travellers rode for twelve days through the Black Forest and many
waste places, till they reached the Danube. At the borders of Bavaria
neither inn nor ferryman was to be found. While the rest made
preparations to encamp for the night, Hagen went deeper into the
inhospitable land, and came to a spring that ran into a small lake.
There he saw some women bathing in the clear water, and at once knew
that they were swan-maidens. Seeing him, they swam away, but he got
possession of their feather garments, which obliged them to speak to
him.
“Give us back our garments,” said one of them, “and I will tell you of
the future.”
He promised to do as she desired, if she would tell him how their
journey should end. She then prophesied pleasant things to him, and the
hero gave back all the swan-garments. No sooner had he done this, than
another of the maidens informed him that her sister had spoken words of
guile, for that, far from the happy ending she had foretold, the
priests alone of all that numerous company should ever see the Rhine
again; as for the warriors, they should all die by the sword, if they
did not at once return home. Hagen answered that he was ready to defend
himself and his kings, and then asked how to cross the river. The
swan-maidens directed him where he should find a ferryman, and then
flew away.
Hagen followed the advice given him, and brought his company down to
the ferry. The boatman turned out to be an old enemy, so after a
hand-to-hand encounter, he was slain, and Hagen took his place. When
they were halfway across the river, Hagen flung the priest, who
accompanied them, overboard, that at least one portion of the
swan-maiden’s prophecy might come to nought. But he had miscalculated
in this instance; the priest’s floating garments upheld him on the
turbulent waters, and the current drove him back to the shore.
“The holy man has the devil’s own luck,” said the grim warrior. “I care
not, however. What must be, will be, as the Norns used to say.”
The travellers pursued their journey rather more rapidly than before.
At length, after meeting with several adventures, they arrived at
Margrave Rüdiger’s castle, where they met with a hearty reception from
their old friend and his wife. During their visit to Bechelaren,
Giselher fell in love with fair Dietelinde, the only daughter of the
house, and wooed her through his brother. So, according to old custom,
the youth and the maiden were called to appear before the whole company
in the great hall of the castle, and say whether they were willing to
be man and wife. Giselher did not hesitate for a moment. His “yes” was
loud and clear. But fair Dietelinde blushed, and looked down, and her
whispered “yes” was only obtained in response to a second demand. Then
Giselher clasped her in his arms, and gave her the kiss of betrothal.
The bond was therefore sealed for life.
The Burgundians, or Nibelungs as they were generally called, remained
at Bechelaren for many days, and when they went away, their host
pressed all manner of costly gifts upon them. Hagen refused to receive
anything in the way of ornament, and only begged for a strong shield
that hung on the wall amongst other pieces of armour.
“It is Nudung’s shield, and he, our only son, was slain by faithless
Wittich,” said the Margravine; “take it, noble hero, and may it guard
you well.”
The travellers continued their journey, and arrived at the land of the
Huns, on the borders of which they were met by Dietrich and many other
warriors. Accompanied by these, and by Rüdiger they at length arrived
at Etzelburg. The queen came down to meet them in the castle court. She
greeted the kings, and kissed young Giselher, but scarcely seemed to
see the warriors who accompanied them. Hagen was angry, and said,—
“When one comes as an invited guest, one is accustomed to hear one’s
host at least say ‘Welcome.’ This praiseworthy custom does not seem to
obtain in the land of the Huns.”
“Lord Hagen of Tronje,” said Chriemhild, “have you done anything to
gain such greeting? Have you, perchance, brought me some of the stolen
Nibelung treasure?”
“It lies deep sunk in the Rhine,” replied the warrior, “and there it
will remain till the end of time. But had I known that you desired a
gift, I am rich enough to have brought you one.”
“I can do without it,” said the queen, “I too am rich; I only thought
you might perhaps have desired to restore to me my own again.”
“I find my shield, helmet, sharp sword, and coat of mail a heavy enough
weight to carry,” replied the hero, “but I promise to try and bring you
the devil. _He_ has much rich treasure.”
“I do not need your gifts,” cried the queen, “nor do I desire them. You
have served me ill enough in time past with your murderous and thievish
hand. I have not yet requited you for what you have already done for
me.”
She turned away in anger, and calling her men-at-arms around her,
promised to reward whoever avenged Siegfried’s death.
The queen then asked her brothers to divest themselves of their armour,
as it was not customary to appear in the panoply of war before King
Etzel. Hagen at once advised them not to do so, warning them of the
consequences in plain terms.
Chriemhild exclaimed, that she would give much to know whose advice he
was following in this matter; then the Amelung hero came forward, and
boldly avowed that it was he who had given this counsel, for he knew
well the devilish plots that were being contrived in the palace. The
queen only answered him with an angry look, and at once retired to her
apartments.
While the kings talked together in the friendliest fashion, the Hunnish
warriors looked askance at the Burgundians. Hagen, desirous of showing
that he felt no fear, asked one of his comrades to go with him to the
inner court to await the coming of the queen. His familiar friend,
Volker the minstrel, declared himself ready. They seated themselves on
a bench near the queen’s hall. As they sat there—Hagen with his good
sword Balmung laid across his knees—Chriemhild came down the steps,
and asked him why he had hated her so, and why he had slain the noble
Siegfried.
“Well,” he said, “I never denied that I did it. The queen of Burgundy
was insulted for his sake, and the royal house dishonoured. The shame
had to be washed out with blood, and as the hero was too strong to
attack in the open field, he had to be slain by cunning. Any one may
blame me, any one may strive to avenge the deed, I am not afraid. I
have no cap of darkness, and am easily to be found.”
Then Chriemhild turned to her serving-men, and desired them to slay the
slanderer of their queen, and the treacherous murderer of Siegfried.
But the two brave men were so terrible to look upon, that none of the
Huns dared touch them, although the queen offered them much gold. They
then went their way, and the queen returned to her apartments, blushing
with shame.
A message now came from King Etzel begging the Burgundians to visit him
in his palace. They accepted the invitation, and he greeted them like
old friends. After having welcomed the heroes, he said that he should
very much like to know who the two warriors were that looked so brave,
and stood so close together.
“They are Volker the minstrel, and my uncle Hagen of Tronje,” replied
King Gunther.
“What, Hagen!” cried Etzel. “So we have met again at last, old friend,
and I can tell you to your face that you have not belied the promise of
your youth. But you are much changed in your looks from what you were
in the old days when I was proud of your brave deeds in my service, and
set you free, to return to Burgundy. You have lost an eye since then,
your hair is mixed with grey, and your face has grown so rugged that
you might alarm the boldest warrior when you swing your broadsword.”
“Who can tell,” replied the hero, “how soon I may have to do it again?”
“Never in the land of the Huns,” answered the king; “you, like all
Burgundians, are a favoured guest.”
The evening passed quietly, and it was nearly midnight before the
Burgundians were led to the great hall, where couches were spread for
them with down cushions covered with gold embroidery. They agreed with
Hagen that it would be well to keep watch during the night for fear of
surprise, and that each man should place his weapons where he could get
them at a moment’s notice.
Hagen and Volker kept guard. They had been seated for some time in
silence, when all at once the minstrel saw helmets and shields glancing
in the starlight. He pointed them out to his companion, who knew that
they were the queen’s men, and needed no telling to inform him on what
errand they were come. The minstrel wanted to spring out upon them, but
Hagen prevented him, because some of the enemy might then have slipped
into the hall, and perhaps murdered their sleeping friends. So peace
was preserved for the time; and at dawn, the Burgundians marched to the
sanctuary to keep the solemn Midsummer festival. King Etzel appeared
with his train, and asked, in astonishment, why they wore their armour.
But they answered that such was their custom, not thinking it well to
tell him what had happened during the night.
After the service was over, a great repast was served, which was in
turn succeeded by games, dances, music, and other entertainments. In
all feats of arms and trials of skill in the lists, the Nibelungs
showed themselves better men than the Huns. At length the games
appeared to be over, and the warriors desired to rest after their
exertions. As they were leaving the scene of contest, a prince of the
Huns presented himself in shining armour, and offered to try his skill
against the strangers, who, he alleged, had hitherto only measured
their strength with the common people, and not with the princes. Bold
Volker caught his spear more firmly in his hand, and turned to accept
the challenge. His thrust was so shrewd that he wounded the Hun
severely, and a cry of “Murder, down with the murderer!” arose on every
side. A free fight would have begun in another minute, had not King
Etzel thrown himself between the belligerents, and threatened death to
any of his people who hurt one of his guests. Peace was then outwardly
restored; but the sullen glances each side cast on the other, showed
the angry turmoil in every heart.
That evening, Etzel sent for his little son into the hall, that he
might present him to his guests. The warriors all admired the handsome,
frank-mannered child, and told the father that they did so; but Hagen
said he did not think the boy would live to grow up, he looked so
delicate.
This speech of Hagen’s increased the bad feeling of the Huns towards
the Burgundians tenfold; but no one betrayed his thoughts. A little
later, a great noise was heard in the court without—shouts, the clang
of armour, howls and cries.