Meanwhile the Norman fleet had reached its destination.
Queen Gerlind, her gentle daughter Ortrûn, their ladies, and many of
the citizens of Cassian went down to the harbour to welcome the heroes
home. After they had greeted the kings, Ortrûn hastened to sad Gudrûn’s
side, and, embracing her, told her to be of good courage. Gudrûn was
touched by the maiden’s kindness, though it could not stop her tears;
but when Queen Gerlind would have kissed her, she recoiled from her
touch, for the sharp-featured woman with the bold, glittering eyes
seemed to her a spiteful snake, ready to dart on his prey and crush it
in his coils.
“Eh, pretty puppet,” said the offended queen. “What, so shy? But you’ll
soon grow tame under my training.” She would have said more, but
Hartmut interposed, saying that Gudrûn was to be his wife when the days
of mourning for her father were over. He then offered the princess his
arm, and sorely against her will, she had to enter the palace side by
side with him. Some of the townsfolk, watching her, said, “How
beautiful she is!” to which others made answer, “But how sad!”
Days and weeks passed on. Hartmut did his best to win fair Gudrûn’s
love, but all his efforts were vain. One day he asked her why she would
not love him, and she replied that he was a great and noble warrior,
well worthy of a woman’s love, but she was betrothed to Herwig, and
would never break her troth. Queen Gerlind was not of so patient a
disposition as her son: she was determined to break Gudrûn’s proud
spirit, and force her to consent to marry Hartmut. At first she tried
soft words and flattering speeches; but finding these of no avail, she
had recourse to sterner measures, though she waited till her son had
left home on a warlike expedition. Before going he confided Gudrûn to
his mother’s care, telling her she might “try to tame the wild bird” in
any fashion she liked, that was not inconsistent with the maiden’s
royal dignity.
No sooner was Hartmut gone, than Queen Gerlind set to work. She made
Gudrûn dress like a servant, and then set her and her maidens to cook
and sweep, and do all the hardest work in the palace. Gudrûn bore her
wrongs in patient silence. Her soft hands were blistered with scrubbing
pots and pans, and doing other kitchen work, with which she was busied
from early morning till late at night. The queen would sometimes ask
her viciously if she would not rather wear the Norman crown than
continue to slave in that manner, but she answered gently that she
would keep her troth.
So she did all that was given her to do through the hot summer days,
and in the icy cold of winter, without uttering a single murmur at her
hard fate.
Year after year she lived this wretched life. At length Hartmut came
home victorious from his wars. He greeted his father, mother, and
sister with warm affection, and then looked round for Gudrûn. When he
saw her dressed in coarse clothing, and doing hard work, he was very
angry with his mother for her ill-treatment of the girl. He begged
Gudrûn to forgive what was past and gone, and grant him her love,
trying to rouse her ambition by dwelling on the wealth and greatness of
the kingdom he offered to share with her. But Gudrûn answered that a
noble-minded woman could love but once, and never again. So he left
her, but took care to protect her from Gerlind’s malice.
Gudrûn was restored to her former position, and slept that night in her
old room. Next morning, when she awoke, she found the princess Ortrûn,
whom she had not seen for a long time, bending over her. The two girls
spent the summer together, and learnt to love each other warmly. As
autumn came on, Gudrûn thought that her friend looked graver and sadder
than her wont, and asked her the reason of the change. Ortrûn then
confessed that as Gudrûn had not given way to Hartmut’s entreaties, but
remained obdurate as ever, Gerlind intended to separate her daughter
from the Hegeling princess.
While the two girls were talking, Hartmut joined them, and said:
“Lady Gudrûn, the warrior to whom you plighted your troth is not worthy
of your love, otherwise he would not have allowed so many years to pass
without coming in search of you at the head of his men. He has
forgotten you, and is most likely married to another.”
“You do not know him, noble hero,” answered Gudrûn; “death alone, which
looses all bonds, could separate us.”
“What if he has fallen in battle, or has died of some illness?” asked
the young king.
“Then he shall find me faithful when I join him where there is no more
parting,” replied the princess, with a look of courageous resolve.
So Hartmut took leave of her, and again went away to try and forget her
amid the excitement of battle.
When he was gone, Queen Gerlind once more deposed Gudrûn from her high
estate, and sent her to wash the clothes, making her work from early
morning till late at night, and threatening her with the rod if she
were lazy; but the princess worked too hard to give her an excuse for
inflicting this last indignity.
More years passed on, and at length Hartmut returned victorious as at
first. He spoke to Gudrûn, but found her faithful as ever to Herwig.
Gerlind, after this, was harder than ever to Gudrûn. The other Hegeling
maidens were given lighter tasks than she. They had to spin and card
flax and wool, while their beloved mistress had to wash the clothes all
the cold winter through, and often, on her return from the shore, she
sank into an exhausted sleep on her straw pallet, without having the
strength first to take off her wet garments. At last matters came to
such a pass that her cousin Hildburg could hold her peace no longer,
and asked the queen how she dared treat a princess with such cruelty
and disrespect. Upon which Gerlind set her to join her mistress in her
work.
This was just what Hildburg wanted. Her great desire was to be with her
mistress, to cheer and comfort her, and lighten her toil. Still Gudrûn
had often to go down to the shore alone when Hildburg was busy at the
castle. On one of these occasions she saw a swan come swimming over the
sea.
“O swan, had I thy wings, I would soar into the sky and hie me to my
home.”
While she spoke, the swan dived into the sea, and in its place up came
a mermaid:
“O heart long tried and true, thy grief shall pass away: thy lover and
thy kindred live, and lo, they hasten to thy rescue.”
So saying, the mermaid dived, and again the white swan floated on the
wave. He spread his wings and rose in the air, flew three times round
the princess, and sang:
“True love on the earth may yet be found,
True hearts that never roam;
Lo, through the breakers’ foam
’Tis thy warrior’s bark o’er the wave doth bound,
To lead his true-love home.”
[Illustration: MEETING OF OLD FRIENDS.]
It was well for Gudrûn that she had this secret hope to support her,
for Gerlind’s cruelty grew daily more intolerable. The princess and
Hildburg were forced to wash the clothes on the sea-shore, dressed in
simple linen shifts, and without shoes. When they begged for shoes, the
cold was so terrible, their taskmistress gave them insulting words, and
threatened to scourge them with thorns if their day’s work were not
finished by evening. Trembling with cold in the cutting east wind, and
their beautiful hair blowing about their faces, they worked on busily.
Suddenly they saw a boat gliding swiftly along the shore, rowed by two
warriors in full armour. The maidens, ashamed of their insufficient
clothing, would have fled, but the men called to them to stop, and tell
them what castle that was on the height above. When they added that
they would throw the linen into the sea unless they received an answer,
the girls came back, and as they did so, Gudrûn whispered:—
“See, it is Herwig. I know him well, but he—he has forgotten me.”
And in good truth the hero was unaware that his long-lost bride stood
there before him; but no sooner had she pushed her fluttering hair back
from her face, than he recognised her, hastened to her, and clasped her
in his arms. When the other warrior opened his visor, Gudrûn exclaimed,
“Ortwin!” and threw herself into her brother’s arms.
Then Ortwin turned to her companion, and said, taking her hand in his:
“It is you, Hildburg! Do not be ashamed to confess that you and I have
long loved each other, and would have been openly betrothed years ago,
had not the Normans carried you off.”
They then exchanged the kiss of betrothal.
Herwig wished to take the two girls away with them at once, but Ortwin
would not consent. He said they must come openly on the morrow for
Gudrûn and Hildburg, who should never run away secretly from their
captors.
The two girls stood on the shore watching the boat as long as it was in
sight. At length Hildburg in startled accents begged her friend to help
her to finish the washing. But Gudrûn answered proudly that the days of
her slavery were over, and, so saying, she cast one garment after
another into the sea, and watched them floating away on the waves with
a smile; while poor Hildburg tremblingly remembered that they were
still in the power of the Norman queen.
When they reached the castle, Gerlind came down to meet them, asking
why they were so early, and what they had done with the linen. Gudrûn
answered that the work was too hard for them, and that she had thrown
the clothes into the sea, where Queen Gerlind’s men might find them
yet, if she did not delay too long in sending out boats. The queen was
dumb with astonishment when she heard the gentle, patient Gudrûn speak
to her in such a manner; but soon recovering herself, she called her
bond-women to fetch thorny rods, and beat the maidens for their
insolence. The women hastened to do as they were desired; but Gudrûn
called to them to stop, telling them to touch her at their peril, for
she would be their queen on the morrow.
“And will you really marry Hartmut?” asked Gerlind joyfully. “I fear
there is some trick in this.”
“Bring the king here,” said Gudrûn; “I would speak with him.”