The fight recommenced in the banqueting hall, in spite of all King
Gunther’s efforts to smooth matters over, and during the struggle the
little Prince Ortlieb, the sole hope of Etzel’s house, was killed. At
length Hagen, Dankwart, and Volker, succeeded in locking and bolting
the doors of the hall.
Etzel and the queen sat full of anxious care during the _mêlée_.
Dietrich and Rüdiger, neither of whom took part in the fight, were also
grave and sad. At length the hero of Bern exclaimed:
“Listen to me, Nibelungs. Hearken to my words, ye friends of Burgundy.
Grant me a truce that I and my men and Margrave Rüdiger may go away
unharmed.”
King Gunther recognised Dietrich’s voice, and said: “If any of my
warriors has done harm to you or yours, noble hero of Bern, I shall
take your cause into my own hands.”
“No one has done me harm,” replied the warrior; “all that I request is
that you should let us go freely.”
“What is the good of so much requesting?” cried hot-headed Wolfhart;
“we have sharp keys to unlock the doors with, even if a thousand such
as these Nibelungs tried to keep them shut.”
“Hush! hush! foolish comrade,” said Dietrich; “there was but little
sense in that speech of yours.”
King Gunther then commanded his people to open the door, and much to
the wrath of the Burgundians, Dietrich passed through their ranks with
Chriemhild leaning on one arm and King Etzel on the other, and followed
by his six hundred warriors. After them came Rüdiger with four hundred
men. Giselher said to the Margrave:
“Greet your daughter from me, and say to her that I shall think of her
even in death.”
Many of the Huns tried to escape with King Etzel, but Volker cut them
down as they strove to pass the door.
No sooner were Dietrich and Rüdiger safely gone than the horrible
carnage recommenced. The Burgundian swords had no rest, until all the
Huns were lying dead or dying on the floor. After that the Nibelungs
rested awhile from their labours, but Hagen speedily called them to be
up and doing, and fling the corpses out, lest they should be in the way
in any renewed attack. He was at once obeyed. The dead and wounded Huns
were one and all flung into the court below.
Volker and Hagen now guarded the entrance, lest the enemy should
unexpectedly break in.
While Etzel wrung his hands, and moaned over the slaughter of so many
good men and true, Chriemhild offered a shield full of gold and jewels
to whoever slew her deadly foe, Hagen of Tronje. Of all who heard her,
one alone came forward and said that he would try and do her will. And
he was Count Iring of Daneland, Haward’s man.
He went forward boldly and performed prodigies of valour, but at length
was beaten back, and fell dead under Chriemhild’s window.
Haward and Irnfried of Düringen (Thuringia) determined to avenge bold
Iring, so they called out their men and went to the attack. The fight
began at the door, where Irnfried fell under the minstrel’s sword, and
immediately afterwards Haward was slain by the hero of Tronje. But
still the men of Daneland and Düringen fought on unheeding, and Hagen
exclaimed,—
“Give place. Let them go through the door, out of which they shall
never come back alive. Volker shall play them a slumber-song to which
our swords can beat the accompaniment.”
So the Nibelungs opened their ranks, and the men of Daneland and
Düringen entered the blood-stained hall. Once more the battle began.
Many a brave Burgundian fell to rise no more; but not one of their
enemies escaped alive.