The king answered his guest, “Thou hast done well to remind me. I go

not back from the oath of my hand. What I can do therein I will do.”

They bade Kriemhild to the court before the king. She went up the hall

with her maidens, but Giselher sprang down the stair and cried, “Send

back these maidens. My sister goeth alone to the king.”

They brought Kriemhild before Gunther, where he stood amidst of knights

from many lands. And they bade her stand in the middle of the hall.

Brunhild, by this time, was come to the table, and knew naught of what

was toward. Then said Dankrat’s son to his kinsmen, “Help me now, that

my sister take Siegfried to her husband.”

And they answered with one accord, “That may she do with honour.”

Gunther said, “Dearest sister, I prithee of thy goodness, loose me from

mine oath. I promised thee to a knight; and truly thou wilt do my will,

if thou take him to husband.”

The maiden answered, “Dear brother mine, thou needest not to entreat.

Command and I will obey. Him that thou givest me to husband I will

gladly wed.”

Siegfried grew red for love and joy, and vowed his service to

Kriemhild. And they bade them stand together in a circle, and asked her

if she would take the knight.

On maidenly wise she was shamefast at the first, yet so great was

Siegfried’s good fortune and his grace, that she refused not his hand;

and the king of the Netherland, from his side also, plighted his troth

to Kriemhild.

When their word was given, Siegfried took his queen in his arms

straightway, and kissed her before the warriors.

The circle brake up when this was ended, and Siegfried took the seat of

honour with Kriemhild. The vassals served before them, and his Nibelung

knights stood nigh.

The king and Brunhild were seated, and Brunhild saw Kriemhild sitting

by Siegfried, the which irked her sore; she fell to weeping, and the

hot tears ran down her bright cheeks.

Whereupon the host said, “What aileth thee, sweet Lady, that the light

of thine eyes is dim? Rejoice shouldst thou rather, for my land and

rich castles and true liegemen are all subject to thee.”

“I have cause to weep,” said the maiden. “I grieve from my heart for

thy sister, that she sitteth there by thy vassal. I must ever weep to

see her so shamed.”

But King Gunther answered, “I prithee, silence! Another time I will

tell thee why I gave my sister to Siegfried. May she live happily with

the knight.”

But she said, “I must grieve for her beauty and her birth. If I knew

whither I might flee, I would not suffer thee by me, till that thou

hadst told me how Siegfried hath gotten Kriemhild.”

Gunther answered them, “Hearken, and I will tell thee. Know that he

hath lands and castles even as I, and is a rich king; wherefore I give

him my beautiful sister gladly to wife.” Yet, for all the king could

say to her, she was downcast.

The knights rose from the table, and the tourney waxed so fierce that

the castle rang with the noise. But the king wearied amidst of his

guests. He thought, “It were softer alone with my wife.” And his heart

dwelled on the mickle joy her love must bring him, and he looked at her

sweetly.

Then they stopped the tourney, that the king might retire with his

wife.

At the foot of the stair that led forth from the hall, Kriemhild and

Brunhild came face to face. They were not foes yet. Their attendants

followed them, and longer they tarried not. The chamberlains brought

candles, and the knights of the two kings parted in two companies, and

many followed Siegfried.

Then came the heroes where they were to lie, and each thought to win

his wife’s favour, whereat their hearts melted.

With Siegfried all went well. He caressed the maiden lovingly, and she

was as his life. He had not given her alone for a thousand other women.

Of them I will tell no further. Hear now how it fared with Gunther.

Better had been his case with any but Brunhild.

The folk had departed, dames and knights. The door was made fast. He

thought to win her love, but it was long yet or she became his wife. He

lay down in a white garment and thought, “Now have I my heart’s

desire.” The king’s hand hid the light. He went to Brunhild and

embraced her with his arm. He was greatly glad. He would have caressed

her sweetly if she had let him. But she was so wroth that he was

dismayed. He thought to find joy, but found deep hate.

She said, “Noble knight, let me alone, for it shall not be as thou

desirest. Mark well I have naught to do with thee, till that thou has

answered me concerning Kriemhild.”

Then Gunther began to be angry with her, and fought with her, and tore

her raiment. And the royal maiden seized a girdle, a strong embroidered

silk cord that she wore round her waist, and did hurt enow to the

knight. She bound his hands and his feet, and carried him to a nail,

and hung him on the wall. She forbade him to touch her because he

disturbed her sleep. He almost perished from her strength.

Then he that should have been master began to pray, “Now loose my

bands, most noble queen. I promise never to touch thee, or even to come

nigh thee.”

She asked not how he fared while she lay soft. There must he hang the

long night through till the day, when the bright morning shone through

the window. If he had ever had strength, he had little in his body now.

“Tell me, Sir Gunther,” said the beautiful maiden, “doth it not irk

thee that thy chamberlains find thee bound by the hand of a woman.”

The noble knight answered, “It were the worse for thee. Also little

were my honour therein. Of thy charity allow me to lie down. Seeing

thou hatest my love, I will no so much as touch thy garment with my

hand.”

Then she loosed his bands, and let him go, and he laid him down, but so

far from her that he ruffled not her beautiful gown. Even that she had

gladly forgone.

Thereupon their attendants came and brought them new apparel, as much

as they could wear, that had been made ready against the wedding morn.

But, amidst of them that rejoiced, the king was heavy of his cheer

beneath his crown that day.

According to the good custom of the land, Gunther and Brunhild tarried

not longer, but went to the minster to hear mass. Thither also went

Siegfried, and there was great press of people.

Crowns and robes were ready for them there; and after they had taken

their vows, they stood up, all four, proudly beneath their crowns.

Youths, to the number of six hundred or more, were dubbed knights (I

say sooth) in honour of the king. And great joy was in Burgundy, and

much splintering of lances by sworded knights.

The beautiful maidens sat at the windows, and underneath them was the

flashing of many shields. But the king stood apart from his men, and

went about sadly.

He and Siegfried were unlike of their moods. The hero guessed what

ailed him, and went to him and asked him, “Tell me how it hath fared

with thee.”

Then said the host to his guest, “Shame and hurt have I suffered from

my wife in my house. When I would have caressed her, she bound me

tight, and took me to a nail, and hung me up on the wall. There I

dangled in fear the night through till the day, or she loosed me. How

soft she lay there! I tell thee this in secret.”

And stark Siegfried said, “I grieve for thee. I will tell thee a remedy

if thou keep it from her. I will so contrive it that this night she

will defy thee no longer.” The word was welcome to Gunther after his

pain.

“Now see my hands, how they are swollen. She overmastered me, as I had

been a child, that the blood spurted all over me from my nails. I

thought not to come off with my life.”

Said Siegfried, “It will yet be well. Unequal was our fortune last

night. Thy sister Kriemhild is dearer to me than mine own body. This

day must Brunhild be thy wife. I will come to-night to thy room

secretly in my _Tarnkappe_, that none may guess the trick. Send the

chamberlains to their beds. I will put out the lights in the hands of

the pages, and by this sign thou shalt know that I am nigh. I will win

thy wife for thee or perish.”

“If only thou winnest her not for thyself. She is my dear wife.

Otherwise I rejoice. Do to her what thou wilt. If thou tookest her

life, I would bear it. She is a terrible woman.”

“I vow to thee on mine honour that I will have naught to do with her.

Thy dear sister is more to me than any I have ever seen.” And Gunther

believed Siegfried’s word.

Meanwhile the guests rode at the tourney with fortune good and bad,

but, when it was time for the women to go to the hall, they stopped the

tilting and the din, and the chamberlains bade the folk void the way.

And now the courtyard was empty of horses and men. A bishop led each

queen before the kings to table, and many proud knights followed them

to their seats. The king sat beside his wife in good hope, for he

minded Siegfried’s promise. The one day seemed to him as thirty, for he

thought only on Brunhild.

Scarce could he wait till they rose from the table.

Fair Kriemhild and also Brunhild were led to their chambers. Ha! what

bold knights went before the queens!

Joyful and without hate Siegfried the knight sat sweetly beside his

beautiful wife. With her white hand she caressed his, till, she knew

not how, he vanished from before her eyes. When she played with him and

saw him no longer, she said to her maidens, “I marvel much where the

king is gone. Who took his hands out of mine?” And so the matter

dropped.

He had gone where he found the chamberlains with the lights, which he

began to put out. By this sign Gunther perceived that it was Siegfried.

He knew well what he wanted, and he sent away the women and maidens.

When that was done, the king himself locked the door, and shot two

strong bolts before it. He hid the light quickly behind the bed

curtain, and the struggle that had to come began between stark

Siegfried and the beautiful maiden. King Gunther was both glad and

sorry.

Siegfried lay down by the queen, but she said, “Stop, Gunther, lest

thou suffer as afore. Thou mayest again receive a hurt at my hand.”

Siegfried concealed his voice and spake not. Gunther heard well all

that passed, albeit he saw nothing. There was little ease for the

twain. Siegfried feigned that he was Gunther, and put his arm round the

valiant maiden. She threw him on to a bench, that his head rang loud

against a foot-stool.

The bold man sprang up undaunted, but evil befell him. Such defence

from a woman I ween the world will never see more. Because he would not

let her be, Brunhild rose up.

“It is unseemly of thee,” said the brave maiden. “Thou wilt tear my

beautiful gown. Thou art churlish and must suffer for it. Thou shalt

see!”

She caught the good knight in her arms, and would have bound him as she

had done to the king, that she might have peace. Grimly she avenged her

torn raiment.

What availed him then his strength and his prowess? She proved to him

the mastery of her body, and carried him by force, since there was no

other way, and squeezed him hard against a press that stood by the bed.

“Alack!” thought the knight, “if I lose my life by the hand of a woman,

all wives evermore will make light of their husbands, that, without

this, would not dare.”

The king heard it well. He feared for the man. Then Siegfried was

ashamed and waxed furious. He grappled fiercely with her, and, in

terror of his life, strove to overcome Brunhild. When she squeezed him

down, he got up again in spite of her, by dint of his anger and his

mickle strength. He came in great scathe. In the chamber there was

smiting with many blows. King Gunther, likewise, stood in peril. He

danced to and fro quickly before them. So mightily they strove, it was

a wonder they came off with their lives. The trouble of the king was

twofold, yet most he feared Siegfried’s death. For she had almost

killed the knight. Had he dared, he had gone to his help.

The strife endured long atwixt them. Then Siegfried got hold of

Brunhild. Albeit she fought valiantly, her defence was grown weak. It

seemed long to the king, that stood there, till Siegfried had won. She

squeezed his hands till, by her strength, the blood spurted out from

his nails. Then he brake the strong will that she had shown at the

first. The king heard it all, but he spake no word. Siegfried pressed

her down till she cried aloud, for his might hurt her greatly. She

clutched at her side, where she found her girdle, and sought to tie his

hands. But he gripped her till the joints of her body cracked. So the

strife was ended.

She said, “Noble king, let me live. I will make good to thee what I

have done, and strive no more; truly I have found thee to be my

master.”

Siegfried rose up then and left her, as though he would throw off his

clothes. He drew from her hand a gold ring, without that she was ware

of it. He took her girdle also, a good silken band. I know not if he

did it from pride. He gave them to his wife, and suffered for it after.

The king and the fair maiden were left together, and, for that she was

grown weak, she hid her anger, for it availed her nothing. So they

abode there till the bright day.

Meanwhile Siegfried went back to his sweet love, that received him

kindly. He turned the questions aside that she asked him, and hid from

her for long what he had brought with him, till at the last, when they

were gotten home to the Netherland, he gave her the jewel; the which

brought him and many knights to their graves.

Much merrier was Gunther of his cheer the next morning than afore.

Throughout his lands many a noble knight rejoiced, and the guests that

he had bidden to the hightide were well feasted and served.

The hightide lasted fourteen days, during the which time the din of the

sports, and of the pastimes they practised, ceased not. Mickle was the

cost to the king. The king’s kinsmen gave, in his honour, to the

stranger knights, as their lord willed it, apparel, and ruddy gold and

horses, and thereto silver enow; and they that received the gifts took

their leave well content. Also Siegfried of the Netherland and his

thousand knights gave all that they had brought with them—goodly horses

with saddles. Certes, they lived right royally. Nevertheless, or they

had made an end of giving, they deemed it long; for they were weary for

their home. Never were guests better entreated. So ended the hightide,

and the warriors went their ways.

Eleventh Adventure

How Siegfried Brought his Wife Home

When the guests were all gone, the son of Siegmund spake to his

friends, “We will also go forth to our land.” And his wife was glad

when she heard the news.

She said to her husband, “When shall we start? Yet be not in too great

haste. My brothers shall first divide the land with me.” But the word

irked Siegfried.

The princes went to him and said, all the three, “Sir Siegfried, we be

thy true servants till death. Know this of a surety.” And he thanked

the knights that they spake him so fair.

“We would also divide with thee,” said Giselher the youth, “land and

castles, and the rich kingdom that we rule. A full share thereof shalt

thou receive with Kriemhild.”

But the son of Siegmund made answer, when he had heard their honourable

intent. “Blest be your heritage to you evermore, and also the people

thereof. The share you would give to my dear wife she may well forego,

for when she will wear the crown, she will be, if she live long enough,

the richest woman on earth. Command me in aught else, and I will obey.”

But Kriemhild said, “Though thou scorn my land, not so lightly shalt

thou treat Burgundian warriors. These any king might be proud to take

with him, and them, at the least, shall my brothers’ hand share with

me.”

Gunther answered, “Take whom thou wilt. Thou wilt find many ready to

ride with thee. Of three thousand knights, choose thou one thousand for

thy following.”

Then Kriemhild sent for Hagen of Trony and for Ortwin, and asked them

if they and their kinsmen would ride with her. But Hagen fell in a fury

and cried, “To no man in this world shall Gunther give us. Others can

ride with thee. Thou knowest the men of Trony and their way. By the

king at the court will we bide, to serve him and follow him as

heretofore.”

So she let the matter rest, and made ready for the journey; for her

followers she won two and thirty maidens and five hundred men, among

the which was Eckewart the Margrave. And they took their leave, as was

meet: knights and squires, damsels and dames. They parted thence with

kisses, and set out from Gunther’s land joyfully.

Her kinsmen brought her far on her way, and had night quarters put up

where they desired them, in the king’s land. And they despatched envoys

to King Siegmund, to tell him and Queen Sieglind how that their son

drew nigh with fair Kriemhild, Queen Uta’s child, from Worms on the

Rhine.

They could not have brought them better news.

Siegmund said, “Praised be God that I have lived to see the day when

Kriemhild shall wear the crown here. My heritage is increased in worth,

and Siegfried himself shall be king.”

Queen Sieglind gave the envoys, for fee, red velvet and heavy silver

and gold, for she was glad at the news.

Her women began to adorn them in haste, and when Sieglind knew who came

with Siegfried, she let seats be builded, where he might be crowned in

presence of his kinsmen.

King Siegmund’s knights rode out to meet them. Never heroes were better

welcomed, I trow, than these, into Siegmund’s land. Sieglind rode

forth, herself, to greet fair Kriemhild, with beautiful women and bold

knights, a day’s journey or they spied the guests. And strangers and

friends were pressed alike for room, till that they came to a great

castle that hight Xanten, where Siegfried and his wife were crowned

afterward.

Siegmund and Sieglind kissed Kriemhild, and Siegfried also, many times

with smiling mouth for their sorrow was ended; and Kriemhild’s

attendants got a gracious welcome.

They brought the guests into Siegmund’s palace, and lifted the fair

damsels from the horses. There were knights enow eager to serve them.

Howso rich had been the hightide by the Rhine, here the knights

received costlier apparel than ever before in their lives. Many marvels

might be told of their splendour. So they sat in honour and had plenty.

The courtiers wore robes of red gold embroidered with precious stones

and silk, that Sieglind, the noble queen, gave them.

Then Siegmund spake in presence of his kinsmen, “Be it known to you all

that Siegfried shall henceforth wear my crown.” They of the Netherland

heard the news gladly. So he made over to Siegfried his crown and his

rule and his land, that he became lord and king. And to him that he

acquitted, and to him that he condemned, it was done according to his

judgment. The husband of Kriemhild was a man greatly feared.

Thus, in high honour (and this is sooth that I say) he lived and

reigned, a crowned king, till the tenth year, when a son was born,

whereby the king’s liegemen saw their desire accomplished. They hasted

and christened him, and called him Gunther, after his uncle; that was

no shame, for, took he after his kinsmen, he must grow to be a bold

man. They reared him well, as was meet.

And in these days Sieglind died, and many wept because death had taken

her. Then Uta’s child held supreme rule, as befitted so rich a queen.

Now at the same time, they tell us, in Gunther’s land of Burgundy, the

beautiful Brunhild had borne a son, that, for love of the hero, they

named Siegfried. With all care they trained him. Gunther let him be

reared by his liegemen at the court in all virtues that might serve him

if he grew to be a man. Soon, alack, by an evil fate, he was to lose

all his kin!

The fame of Siegfried’s court ceased not to be noised abroad, and with

what worship his knights abode there; great was the fame also of

Gunther’s chosen warriors in Burgundy.

The Nibelungs held their land in fee from Siegfried, and none of his

kinsmen were so rich as he. For he was overlord to the knights of

Shilbung, and owned the treasure of the two brothers. Wherefore his

heart was the more uplifted.

The biggest hoard that ever hero won was his; that he had got by means

of his strong hand before a mountain, and for the which he smote many

heroes to death.

He had honour to the full; yet, if he had possessed nothing at all,

none that saw him had denied him to be the prowest champion that ever

rode a horse. With good cause the folk feared him.

Twelfth Adventure

How Gunther Invited Siegfried to the Hightide

Now there passed not a day but Gunther’s wife thought, “Surely

Kriemhild beareth her too proudly. Siegfried, her husband, is our

vassal. Little service hath he done for his land.”

She pondered it secretly in her heart; for it irked her that they were

strangers, and she had fain known wherefore Siegfried’s country yielded

no tribute. She prayed the king that she might behold Kriemhild again,

and told him her secret thought. But her word pleased him not. “How

could we bid them hither?” said the great king. “It cannot be. They

dwell too far off. I durst not do it.”

But Brunhild answered proudly, “However mighty a king’s vassal may be,

he must do what his lord commandeth.”

But Gunther laughed, for he took it not as homage when he saw

Siegfried.

She said further, “Dear lord, for my love, help me thereto, that

Siegfried and thy sister visit us, and that we see them here. Truly

nothing could rejoice me more. Thy sister’s courtesy, her gentle

breeding—with what delight my heart dwelleth thereon, and how we sat

together the day I became thy wife! That she chose Siegfried to her

husband did her honour.”

She begged the king for it so long that he said, “Certes! no guests

would I gladlier welcome, and willingly I grant it thee. I will bid

them hither by my envoys.”

The queen answered then, “Send not thither without my knowledge, and

inform me, without fail, when my dear friends shall come. And tell me,

also, whom thou wilt charge with the embassy.”

“That will I,” said the king. “I will despatch thirty of my knights.”

He bade them to his presence, and sent greeting by them to Siegfried’s

country. Brunhild clad them in rich apparel, and the king spake, “Ye

knights shall keep back naught wherewith I charge you, but shall say to

stark Siegfried, and to my sister, that no man in this world is better

minded to them than I be. Bid them both hither to the Rhine. If they

come, I and my wife will cease not to be beholden to them. Or midsummer

is here, he and his knights will find among us many to do them worship.

Greet King Siegmund also from me, and say that I and my friends are his

true servants; and entreat my sister that, without fail, she ride

hither to her friends. No hightide were fitter for her.”

Brunhild and Uta, and their women, commended them to the fair women and

the bold men at Siegfried’s court.

So the envoys made haste to do the king’s bidding. They stood ready for

the road; horses and harness were there, and they took their leave.

They pushed forward with the escort the king gave them. Inside of

twelve days they reached the land and the castle of the Nibelungs, and

found Siegfried on the march of Norway. Horses and men were weary with

the long road.

They brought word to both Siegfried and Kriemhild that knights were

come, clad after the manner of the Burgundians.

And Kriemhild sprang from the couch where she lay resting, and bade a

maiden run to the window, who saw Gary standing in the courtyard, and

his knights that were sent with him. They brought welcome news to her

anxious heart.

She cried to the king, “Seest thou, standing there in the courtyard,

them that be come with stark Gary, that my brother Gunther hath sent

down the Rhine?”

And Siegfried answered, “They are welcome.”

All the folk ran when they saw the envoys and greeted them with kind

words. Siegfried was right glad at their coming. Lodging was given to

them, and their horses were seen to, whereupon they went straightway

where Siegfried sat by Kriemhild. Both were joyful to behold them. The

king and his wife rose quickly to receive Gary and Gunther’s knights of

Burgundy. And they bade Gary sit down.

“Nay, let us way-weary guests stand while we tell thee Gunther’s

message. After, we will sit. Gunther and Brunhild, with whom it is

well, and Queen Uta, your mother, and Giselher, the youth, and eke

Gernot, and your nearest kinsmen, send greeting from Burgundy.”

“Now God reward them,” said Siegfried; “I hold them for good and true,

as a man should trust his friends. The like doth their sister. Say on,

whether they be of good cheer. Hath any done my wife’s brethren a hurt

since we parted? Tell me, for I will stand by them till their foemen

rue my help.”

Margrave Gary, the good knight, answered, “It is well with them, and

they are of good cheer. They bid thee to a hightide, and were right

glad if thou camest. They bid my Lady also. So soon as the winter shall

be ended, before midsummer, they would see you.”

But Siegfried said, “That can hardly be.”

Whereupon Gary the Burgundian answered, “Your mother Uta, Gernot, and

Giselher, pray that ye deny them not. Every day I hear them lament that

ye dwell so far. Brunhild my mistress, and her maidens, rejoice in the

hope to see you.”

The message seemed good to Kriemhild. Gary was her kinsman; and the

king bade him sit, and tarried not longer to let pour the wine for the

guests.

Thither came Siegmund also, when he saw the messengers, and he spake to

them on friendly wise. “Ye be welcome, ye knights, Gunther’s men; since

Siegfried won Kriemhild to wife, ye should have been seen here oftener,

if you would have proved your love.”

They answered that, if he willed it, they would come gladly, for that

joy had taken from them their mickle weariness.

Then they bade the envoys sit, and set meats before them, whereof

Siegfried gave order they should have enough. Nine days they were kept

at the court, till at last they murmured, saying that if they tarried

longer, they durst not return again to their land.

Meanwhile Siegfried had let summon his friends. He asked them their

mind about his journey. “Gunther my brother-in-law, and his kinsmen,

have bidden me to a hightide at the Rhine, and Kriemhild also, that she

ride with me. And I were fain to go if his country lay not so far off.

Now counsel me, dear friends, for the best. Had I to harry thirty lands

for their sake, my hand were at their service.”

His knights made answer, “If thou wouldst ride to this hightide, we

counsel thee on this wise: take with thee a thousand knights to the

Rhine, that thou mayest have honour among the Burgundians.”

Then said King Siegmund of the Netherland, “Wherefore has thou not told

me thou wouldest to the hightide? If thou hast naught against it, I

will ride with thee, and will take an hundred knights with me to add to

thy train.”

“Wilt thou do so, dear father mine?” said bold Siegfried. “Right

welcome art thou. Inside of twelve days we will forth.”

To them that desired it horses and apparel were given.

Since the king was minded to make the journey, he sent away the swift

envoys, and charged them with a message to his wife’s brethren at the

Rhine, that he would come right gladly to their hightide.

Siegfried and Kriemhild (so runneth the tale) gave so much to the

envoys that their horses scarce sufficed to carry it, for Siegfried was

a rich king. So, well content, they drave their sumpters before them.

Then Siegfried and Siegmund equipped their folk, and Eckewart, the

Margrave, bade bring forth the best women’s vesture that was in

Siegfried’s whole land. They made ready saddles and shields, and to the

knights and the gentlewomen that were to ride with them, they gave

freely, that they lacked naught. Siegfried led many valiant knights to

his kinsmen.

The envoys hasted on their way, and when bold Gary was come into

Burgundy, they greeted him fair. The riders sprang from their horses

before Gunther’s hall. And young and old, as their wont is, pressed

round them and asked for news. But the good knight answered, “Ye shall

have it when I have told it to the king.” And he passed on with his

comrades to Gunther.

The king sprang from his seat for joy, and Brunhild thanked them that

they were so soon back again. To the envoys spake Gunther then, “How

fareth it with Siegfried, that hath ever done well by me?”

And Gary answered, “He and thy sister waxed red for joy. Kinder

greeting sent man never to his friends than Siegfried and his father

Siegmund send to thee.”

Then said the queen to the Margrave, “Tell me, I prithee; cometh

Kriemhild with them? And hath her body lost nothing of its fairness?”

Whereto Gary answered, “They will both come, and, with them, many

knights.”

Then Uta bade the envoys to her presence, and showed by her questions

what most she desired to know—how it fared with Kriemhild. He told her

how he had found her, and that she would come thither shortly.

They declared also the envoy’s fee that Siegfried had given them: the

apparel and the gold. All the knights of the three kings saw it, and

praised Siegfried.

“It is easy for him to give,” quoth Hagen. “He could not spend it if he

lived for ever, for the hoard of the Nibelungs is in his hand. Would it

came our way!”

All the court, both knights and ladies, were glad at their coming. The

servants of the three kings were not idle, and started to raise the

high-seats. Hunolt and Sindolt had work enow, for they were the sewer

and the butler, and they arranged the chairs; to Ortwin, for that he

helped them, Gunther gave thanks. As for Rumult, the chief cook, I ween

he knew how to order his underlings. Ha! what meats they made ready

against the feast, in their huge cauldrons and pots and pans.

The women too busied them, and saw to their robes, whereon they

embroidered gold and bright shining stones, that, when they wore them,

they might be well esteemed.

Thirteenth Adventure

How They Rode to the Hightide

Leave we all this work now, to tell how Kriemhild and her maidens

journeyed from the Nibelung land to the Rhine.

Never sumpters bare such rich apparel. They sent many travelling chests

on before them, and Siegfried and the queen rode with their friends and

dreamed on joy—that was to end in deep sorrow. As needs was, they left

their son at home. Also for him was the journey woeful: his father and

his mother he saw nevermore. Siegmund, the king, rode with them, that

had, certes, not been there, had he known what was to betide them.

Never sorrow was worse than his for dear ones.

They sent forward messengers betimes, and a proud host of Uta’s kin,

and Gunther’s knights, came forth to meet them. Gunther busied him to

show his guests worship. He went to Brunhild and said, “How did

Kriemhild welcome thee when thou camest first to this land? I would

have thee welcome her even so.”

She answered, “I will do it gladly, for I have cause to love her.”

The king spake further, “They come to-morrow early. If thou wilt

receive them, lose no time, lest they surprise us here in the castle,

for never have I welcomed dearer guests.”

So she gave orders to her women to seek out goodly robes, the best that

they had, and to wear them; the which, I trow, they did gladly.

Gunther’s men also hasted to meet them; all that he had he led forth;

and the queen rode in royal state. Mickle joy was at that greeting.

With high honour they welcomed them, yea, with even more, the folk

said, than Kriemhild had showed Brunhild aforetime; and the hearts of

them that saw it were uplifted. Then Siegfried came up with his men,

and the heroes coursed to and fro on the plain, that none had ease for

the dust and the press.

When the king saw Siegfried and Siegmund, on what loving wise he spake!

“Ye are welcome to me and to all my men. Right joyful have ye made us

by this journey.”

“Now God reward thee,” answered Siegmund, the worshipful man. “Since my

son Siegfried won thee to his kinsman, my desire hath ever been to

behold thee.”

Whereupon Gunther said, “That it hath come to pass doth rejoice me.”

Siegfried was received with the honour that was his due; and none

wished him ill. From Gernot and Giselher, also, dear guests had never

better welcome.

Then the two queens drew nigh to each other.

The saddles were emptied, and the women alighted on the grass with the

help of the heroes, that were not slow, I trow, with their service!

The queens met, and the knights rejoiced at so fair a greeting, and

ceased not to wait upon the fair women. Hero now to hero held out the

hand of welcome; the women courtseyed and kissed, and Gunther’s and

Siegfried’s men looked on well content.

They tarried not longer, but rode to the town, where the host bade it

be shown plain that the guests were welcome to Burgundy. There, too,

there was tilting before the maidens. Hagen of Trony and Ortwin

approved them mighty, for none durst gainsay their command; and they

showed the dear guests much honour.

The clash of shields, and the din of piercing and smiting, rose before

the castle gate. Long time stood the host there with his guest or they

were all gone in, for in pastime the hours flew by. Then they rode

merrily to the great reception hall. Gorgeous footcloths, rich and

cunningly fashioned, hung down from the saddles of the beautiful women.

Gunther’s serving-men hasted forward, and led them to their chambers.

All this time Brunhild kept not her eyes from Kriemhild, that was,

certes, fair enow, and of brighter hue than the gold she wore.

Over all the town of Worms was heard the mirth of the company. King

Gunther bade Dankwart, his marshal, see to them well, who gave them

goodly quarters. Without and within they feasted; never were strangers

fairer entreated; all that they desired stood ready for them, for so

rich was the king, that to none was aught denied. They were served well

and without hate.

Then the king went to table with his guests. Siegfried they let sit

where he had sat aforetime, and many a proud warrior strode after him

to the feast. Twelve hundred knights were in the circle at the table;

whereat Brunhild thought, “Never afore was vassal so rich.”

Nevertheless she was well minded to him, nor contrived aught to his

hurt.

Many a rich cloak was wetted where the king sat that night, with the

wine that the butlers ceased not to pour; for they toiled sore to serve

all.

As hath still been the custom at hightides, the women and the damsels

were led to their beds betimes; and to each guest, from whencesoever he

came, the host gave honour and gifts enow.

When the night was ended, and the morning shone, precious stones

sparkled on the rich apparel that the hands of the women drew forth

from the travelling chests. Many a rich robe was sought out.

Or it was well day, knights and squires gathered before the hall, and

the din of tourney arose again before the early mass that they sang for

the king. Gunther thanked the young heroes. Then the trumpets were

blown lustily, and the noise of drums and flutes were so loud that

Worms, the wide town, rang therewith.

Everywhere the bold heroes sprang to horse, and tourney was held in the

land. Many young hearts were there that beat high, and, under their

shields, many a doughty knight. In the windows sat stately dames and

beautiful maidens, featly adorned, and gazed down at the joisting of

the warriors, till that the king himself began to tilt with his

kinsmen. So they passed the time, nor thought it long.

Then the bells rang from the dome, whereat they led up the horses, and

the women rode forth, with many stark knights following the queens.

They alighted before the minster, on the grass. Still was Brunhild well

minded to her guests, and, with their crowns on, they went into the

great church. But soon jealousy made an end of their love.

When the mass was sung they rode home in state, and went merrily to

table. Nor was there an end of joy at the hightide till the eleventh

day.

Then the queen thought, “I can hide it no longer. I must contrive by

some means that Kriemhild tell me why her husband, that is our vassal,

hath so long paid us no tribute. I cannot loose this riddle.”

So she waited for the hour when the Devil tempted her, and she turned

the joy of the hightide to dole. For it pressed on her heart, and must

needs come to light. By reason thereof many lands were filled with

mourning.

Fourteenth Adventure

How the Queens Quarrelled

One day, before vespers, there arose in the court of the castle a

mighty din of knights that tilted for pastime, and the folk ran to see

them.

The queens sat together there, thinking each on a doughty warrior. Then

said fair Kriemhild, “I have a husband of such might that all these

lands might well be his.”

But Brunhild answered, “How so? If there lived none other save thou and

he, our kingdom might haply be his, but while Gunther is alive it could

never be.”

But Kriemhild said, “See him there. How he surpasseth the other

knights, as the bright moon the stars! My heart is uplifted with

cause.”

Whereupon Brunhild answered, “Howso valiant thy husband, comely and

fair, thy brother Gunther excelleth him, for know that he is the first

among kings.”

But Kriemhild said, “My praise was not idle; for worshipful is my

husband in many things. Trow it, Brunhild. He is, at the least, thy

husband’s equal.”

“Mistake me not in thine anger, Kriemhild. Neither is my word idle; for

they both said, when I saw them first, and the king vanquished me in

the sports, and on knightly wise won my love, that Siegfried was his

man. Wherefore I hold him for a vassal, since I heard him say it.”

Then Kriemhild cried, “Evil were my lot if that were true. How had my

brothers given me to a vassal to wife? Prithee, of thy courtesy, cease

from such discourse.”

“That will I not,” answered Brunhild. “Thereby should I lose many

knights that, with him, owe us homage.”

Whereat fair Kriemhild waxed very wroth. “Lose them thou must, for any

service he will do thee. He is nobler even than Gunther, my noble

brother. Wherefore, spare me thy foolish words. I wonder, since he is

thy vassal, and thou art so much mightier than we, that for so long

time he hath failed to pay tribute. Of a truth thine arrogancy irketh

me.”

“Thou vauntest thyself too high,” cried the queen; “I would see now

whether thy body be holden in like honour with mine.”

Both the women were angry.

Kriemhild answered, “That shalt thou see straightway. Since thou hast

called Siegfried thy vassal, the knights of both kings shall see this

day whether I dare enter the minster before thee, the queen. For I

would have thee know that I am noble and free, and that my husband is

of more worship than thine. Nor will I be chidden by thee. To-day thou

shalt see thy vassals go at court before the Burgundian knights, and me

more honoured than any queen that ever wore a crown.”

Fierce was the wrath of the women.

“If thou art no vassal,” said Brunhild, “thou and thy women shall walk

separate from my train when we go to the minster.”

And Kriemhild answered, “Be it so.”

“Now adorn ye, my maidens,” said Siegfried’s wife, “that I be not

shamed. If ye have rich apparel, show it this day. She shall take back

what her mouth hath spoken.”

She needed not to bid twice; they sought out their richest vesture, and

dames and damsels were soon arrayed.

Then the wife of the royal host went forth with her attendants. Fair to

heart’s desire were clad Kriemhild and the forty and three maidens that

she had brought with her to the Rhine. Bright shone the stuffs, woven

in Araby, whereof their robes were fashioned. And they came to the

minster, where Siegfried’s knights waited for them.

The folk marvelled much to see the queens apart, and going not together

as afore. Many a warrior was to rue it.

Gunther’s wife stood before the minster, and the knights dallied in

converse with the women, till that Kriemhild came up with her meiny.

All that noble maidens had ever worn was but as a wind to what these

had on. So rich was Kriemhild that thirty king’s wives together had not

been as gorgeous as she was. None could deny, though they had wished

it, that the apparel Kriemhild’s maidens wore that day was the richest

they had ever seen. Kriemhild did this on purpose to anger Brunhild.

So they met before the minster. And Brunhild, with deadly spite, cried

out to Kriemhild to stand still. “Before the queen shall no vassal go.”

Out then spake Kriemhild, for she was wroth. “Better hadst thou held

thy peace. Thou hast shamed thine own body. How should the leman of a

vassal become a king’s wife?”

“Whom namest thou leman?” cried the queen.

“Even thee,” answered Kriemhild. “For it was Siegfried my husband, and

not my brother, that won thee first. Where were thy senses? It was

surely ill done to favor a vassal so. Reproaches from thee are much

amiss.”

“Verily,” cried Brunhild, “Gunther shall hear of it.”

“What is that to me? Thine arrogancy hath deceived thee. Thou hast

called me thy vassal. Know now of a truth it hath irked me, and I am

thine enemy evermore.”

Then Brunhild began to weep, and Kriemhild tarried not longer, but went

with her attendants into the minster before the king’s wife. There was

deadly hate, and bright eyes grew wet and dim.

Whether they prayed or sang, the service seemed too long to Brunhild,

for her heart and her mind were troubled, the which many a bold and

good man paid for afterward.

Brunhild stopped before the minster with her women, for she thought,

“Kriemhild, the foul-mouthed woman, shall tell me further whereof she

so loud accuseth me. If he hath boasted of this thing, he shall answer

for it with his life.”

Then Kriemhild with her knights came forth, and Brunhild began, “Stop!

thou hast called me a wanton and shalt prove it, for know that thy

words irk me sore.”

Said Kriemhild, “Let me pass. With this gold that I have on my hand I

can prove it. Siegfried brought it when he came from thee.”

It was a heavy day for Brunhild. She said, “That gold so precious was

stolen from me, and hath been hidden these many years. Now I know who

hath taken it.” Both the women were furious.

“I am no thief,” cried Kriemhild. “Hadst thou prized thine honour thou

hadst held thy peace, for, with this girdle round my waist, I can prove

my word, and that Siegfried was verily thy leman.” She wore a girdle of

silk of Nineveh, goodly enow, and worked with precious stones.

When Brunhild saw it she started to weep. And soon Gunther knew it, and

all his men, for the queen cried, “Bring hither the King of Rhineland;

I would tell him how his sister hath mocked me, and sayeth openly that

I be Siegfried’s leman.”

The king came with his warriors, and, when he saw that his dear one

wept, he spake kindly, “What aileth thee, dear wife?”

She answered, “Shamed must I stand, for thy sister would part me from

mine honour? I make my plaint to thee. She proclaimeth aloud that

Siegfried hath had me to his leman.”

Gunther answered, “Evilly hath she done.”

“She weareth here a girdle I have long lost, and my red gold. Woe is me

that ever I was born! If thou clearest me not from this shame, I will

never love thee more.”

Said Gunther, “Bid him hither, that he confess whether he hath boasted

of this, or no.”

They summoned Siegfried, who, when he saw their anger and knew not the

cause, spake quickly, “Why weep these women? Tell me straight; and

wherefore am I summoned?”

Whereto Gunther answered, “Right vexed am I. Brunhild, my wife, telleth

me here that thou hast boasted thou wert her leman. Kriemhild declareth

this. Hast thou done it, O knight?”

Siegfried answered, “Not I. If she hath said so, I will rest not till

she repent it. I swear with a high oath, in the presence of all thy

knights, that I said not this thing.”

The king of the Rhine made answer, “So be it. If thou swear the oath

here, I will acquit thee of the falsehood.” Then the Burgundians stood

round in a ring, and Siegfried swore it with his hand; whereupon the

great king said, “Verily, I hold thee guiltless, nor lay to thy charge

the word my sister imputeth to thee.”

Said Siegfried further, “If she rejoiceth to have troubled thy fair

wife, I am grieved beyond measure.” The knights glanced at each other.

“Women must be taught to bridle their tongues. Forbid proud speech to

thy wife: I will do the like to mine. Such bitterness and pride are a

shame.”

Angry words have divided many men. Brunhild made such dole, that

Gunther’s men had pity on her. And Hagen of Trony went to her and asked

what ailed her, for he found her weeping. She told him the tale, and he

sware straightway that Kriemhild’s husband should pay for it, or never

would Hagen be glad again.

While they talked together, Ortwin and Gernot came up, and the warriors

counselled Siegfried’s death. But when Giselher, Uta’s fair child, drew

nigh and heard them, he spake out with true heart, “Alack, good

knights, what would ye do? How hath Siegfried deserved such hate that

he should lose his life? A woman is lightly angered.”

“Shall we rear bastards?” cried Hagen. “That were small honour to good

knights. I will avenge on him the boast that he hath made, or I will

die.”

But the king himself said, “Good, and not evil, hath he done to us. Let

him live. Wherefore should I hate the knight? He hath ever been true to

me.”

But Ortwin of Metz said, “His great strength shall not avail him.

Allow, O Lord, that I challenge him to his death.” So, without cause,

they banded against him. Yet none had urged it further, had not Hagen

tempted Gunther every day, saying, that if Siegfried lived not, many

kings’ lands were subject to him.

Whereat the warrior began to grieve.

Meanwhile they let the matter lie, and returned to the tourney. Ha!

what stark spears they brake before Kriemhild, atween the minster and

the palace; but Gunther’s men were wroth.

Then said the king, “Give over this deadly hate. For our weal and

honour he was born. Thereto the man is so wonderly stark and grim,

that, if he were ware of this, none durst stand against him.”

“Not so,” said Hagen. “Assure thee on that score. For I will contrive

secretly that he pay for Brunhild’s weeping. Hagen is his foe

evermore.”

But Gunther said, “How meanest thou?”

And Hagen answered, “On this wise. Men that none here knoweth shall

ride as envoys into this land and declare war. Whereupon thou wilt say

before thy guests that thou must to battle with thy liegemen. When thou

hast done this, he will promise to help thee. Then he shall die, after

I have learnt a certain thing from his wife.”

Evilly the king followed Hagen, and they plotted black treason against

the chosen knight, without any suspecting it. So, through the quarrel

of two women, died many warriors.

Fifteenth Adventure

How Siegfried Was Betrayed

On the fourth morning, thirty and two men were seen riding to the

court. They brought word to Gunther that war was declared against him.

The women were woeful when they heard this lie.

The envoys won leave to go into the king, and they said they were

Ludger’s men, that Siegfried’s hand had overcome in battle and brought

captive into Gunther’s land.

The king greeted them, and bade them sit, but one of them said, “Let us

stand, till that we have declared the message wherewith we are charged

to thee. Know that thou hast to thy foemen many a mother’s son. Ludger

and Ludgast, whom thou hast aforetime evilly entreated, ride hither to

make war against thee in this land.”

The king fell in a rage, as if he had known naught thereof. Then they

gave the false messengers good lodging. How could Siegfried or any

other guess their treason, whereby, or all was done, they themselves

perished?

The king went whispering up and down with his friends. Hagen of Trony

gave him no peace. Many of the knights were fain to let it drop, but

Hagen would not be turned from it.

On a day that Siegfried found them whispering, he asked them,

“Wherefore are the king and his men so sorrowful? If any hath done

aught to their hurt, I will stand by them to avenge it.”

Gunther answered, “I grieve not without cause. Ludgast and Ludger ride

hither to war against me in my land.”

Then said the bold knight, “Siegfried’s arm will withstand them on such

wise, that ye shall all come off with honour. I will do to these

warriors even as I did aforetime. Waste will be their lands and their

castles, or I be done. I pledge my head thereto. Thou and thy men shall

tarry here at home, and I will ride forth with my knights that I have

with me. I serve thee gladly, and will prove it. Doubt not that thy

foemen shall suffer scathe at my hand.”

“These be good words,” answered the king, as he were truly glad, and

craftily the false man bowed low.

Then said Siegfried further, “Have no fear.”

The knights of Burgundy made ready for war, they and their squires, and

dissembled before Siegfried and his men. Siegfried bade them of the

Netherland lose no time, and they sought out their harness.

Then spake stark Siegfried, “Tarry here at home, Siegmund, my father.

If God prosper us, we shall return or long to the Rhine. Meanwhile, be

thou of good cheer here by the king.”

They made as if to depart, and bound on the standard. Many of Gunther’s

knights knew nothing of how the matter stood, and a mighty host

gathered round Siegfried. They bound their helmets and their coats of

mail on to the horses and stood ready. Then went Hagen of Trony to

Kriemhild, to take his leave of her, for they would away.

“Well for me,” said Kriemhild, “that ever I won to husband a man that

standeth so true by his friends, as doth Siegfried by my kinsmen. Right

proud am I. Bethink thee now, Hagen, dear friend, how that in all

things I am at thy service, and have ever willed thee well. Requite me

through my husband, that I love, and avenge not on him what I did to

Brunhild. Already it repenteth me sore. My body hath smarted for it,

that ever I troubled her with my words. Siegfried, the good knight,

hath seen to that.”

Whereto Hagen answered, “Ye will shortly be at one again. But

Kriemhild, prithee tell me wherein I can serve thee with Siegfried, thy

husband, and I will do it, for I love none better.”

“I should fear naught for his life in battle, but that he is foolhardy,

and of too proud a courage. Save for that, he were safe enow.”

Then said Hagen, “Lady, if thou fearest hurt for him in battle, tell me

now by what device I may hinder it, and I will guard him afoot and on

horse.”

She answered, “Thou art my cousin, and I thine. To thy faith I commend

my dear husband, and thou mayst watch and keep him.”

Then she told him what she had better have left unsaid.

“My husband is stark and bold. When that he slew the dragon on the

mountain, he bathed him in its blood; wherefore no weapon can pierce

him. Nevertheless, when he rideth in battle, and spears fly from the

hands of heroes, I tremble lest I lose him. Alack! for Siegfried’s sake

how oft have I been heavy of my cheer! And now, dear cousin, I will

trust thee with the secret, and tell thee, that thou mayst prove thy

faith, where my husband may be wounded. For that I know thee

honourable, I do this. When the hot blood flowed from the wound of the

dragon, and Siegfried bathed therein, there fell atween his shoulders

the broad leaf of a lime tree. There one might stab him, and thence is

my care and dole.”

Then answered Hagen of Trony, “Sew, with thine own hand, a small sign

upon his outer garment, that I may know where to defend him when we

stand in battle.”

She did it to profit the knight, and worked his doom thereby. She said,

“I will sew secretly, with fine silk, a little cross upon his garment,

and there, O knight, shalt thou guard to me my husband when ye ride in

the thick of the strife, and he withstandeth his foemen in the fierce

onset.”

“That will I do, dear lady,” answered Hagen.

Kriemhild thought to serve Siegfried; so was the hero betrayed.

Then Hagen took his leave and went forth glad; and his king bade him

say what he had learned.

“If thou wouldst turn from the journey, let us go hunting instead; for

I have learned the secret, and have him in my hand. Wilt thou contrive

this?”

“That will I,” said the king.

And the king’s men rejoiced. Never more, I ween, will knight do so

foully as did Hagen, when he brake his faith with the queen.

The next morning Siegfried, with his thousand knights, rode merrily

forth; for he thought to avenge his friends. And Hagen rode nigh him,

and spied at his vesture. When he saw the mark, he sent forward two of

his men secretly, to ride back to them with another message: that

Ludger bade tell the king his land might remain at peace.

Loth was Siegfried to turn his rein or had he done battle for his

friends. Gunther’s vassals scare held him back. Then he rode to the

king, that thanked him.

“Now, God reward thee, Siegfried, my kinsman, that thou didst grant my

prayer so readily. Even so will I do by thee, and that justly. I hold

thee trustiest of all my friends. Seeing we be quit of this war, let us

ride a hunting to the Odenwald after the bear and the boar, as I have

often done.”

Hagen, the false man, had counselled this.

“Let it be told to my guests straightway that I will ride early. Whoso

would hunt with me, let him be ready betimes. But if any would tarry

behind for pastime with the women, he shall do it, and please me

thereby.”

Siegfried answered on courtly wise, “I will hunt with thee gladly, and

will ride to the forest, if thou lend me a huntsman and some brachs.”

“Will one suffice?” asked Gunther. “I will lend thee four that know the

forest well, and the tracks of the game, that thou come not home

empty-handed.”

Then Siegfried rode to his wife.

Meanwhile Hagen had told the king how he would trap the hero. Let all

men evermore avoid such foul treason. When the false man had contrived

his death, they told all the others. Giselher and Gernot were not

hunting with the rest. I know not for what grudge they warned him not.

But they paid dear for it.

Sixteenth Adventure

How Siegfried Was Slain

Gunther and Hagen, the fierce warriors, went hunting with false intent

in the forest, to chase the boar, the bear, and the wild bull, with

their sharp spears. What fitter sport for brave men?

Siegfried rode with them in kingly pomp. They took with them good store

of meats. By a cool stream he lost his life, as Brunhild, King

Gunther’s wife, had devised it.

But or he set out, and when the hunting-gear was laid ready on the

sumpters that they were to take across the Rhine, he went to Kriemhild,

that was right doleful of her cheer. He kissed his lady on the mouth.

“God grant I may see thee safe and well again, and thou me. Bide here

merry among thy kinsfolk, for I must forth.”

Then she thought on the secret she had betrayed to Hagen, but durst not

tell him. The queen wept sore that ever she was born, and made

measureless dole.

She said, “Go not hunting. Last night I dreamed an evil dream: how that

two wild boars chased thee over the heath; and the flowers were red

with blood. Have pity on my tears, for I fear some treachery. There be

haply some offended, that pursue us with deadly hate. Go not, dear

lord; in good faith I counsel it.”

But he answered, “Dear love, I go but for a few days. I know not any

that beareth me hate. Thy kinsmen will me well, nor have I deserved

otherwise at their hand.”

“Nay, Siegfried, I fear some mischance. Last night I dreamed an evil

dream: how that two mountains fell on thee, and I saw thee no more. If

thou goest, thou wilt grieve me bitterly.”

But he caught his dear one in his arms and kissed her close; then he

took leave of her and rode off.

She never saw him alive again.

They rode thence into a deep forest to seek sport. The king had many

bold knights with him, and rich meats, that they had need of for the

journey. Sumpters passed laden before them over the Rhine, carrying

bread and wine, and flesh and fish, and meats of all sorts, as was

fitting for a rich king.

The bold huntsmen encamped before the green wood where they were to

hunt, on a broad meadow. Siegfried also was there, which was told to

the king. And they set a watch round the camp.

Then said stark Siegfried, “Who will into the forest and lead us to the

game?”

“If we part or we begin the chase in the wood,” said Hagen, “we shall

know which is the best sportsman. Let us divide the huntsmen and the

hounds; then let each ride alone as him listeth, and he who hunteth the

best shall be praised.” So they started without more ado.

But Siegfried said, “One hound that hath been well trained for the

chase will suffice for me. There will be sport enow!”

Then an old huntsman took a limehound, and brought the company where

there was game in plenty. They hunted down all the beasts they started,

as good sportsmen should.

Whatsoever the limehound started, the hero of the Netherland slew with

his hand. His horse ran so swift that naught escaped him; he won

greater praise than any in the chase. In all things he was right manly.

The first that he smote to the death was a half-bred boar. Soon after,

he encountered a grim lion, that the limehound started. This he shot

with his bow and a sharp arrow; the lion made only three springs or he

fell. Loud was the praise of his comrades. Then he killed, one after

the other, a buffalo, an elk, four stark ureoxen, and a grim shelk. His

horse carried him so swiftly that nothing outran him. Deer and hind

escaped him not.

The limehound tracked a wild boar next that began to flee. But

Siegfried rode up and barred the path, whereat the monster ran at the

knight. He slew him with his sword. Not so lightly had another done it.

They leashed their limehound then, and told the Burgundians how

Siegfried had prospered. Whereupon his huntsman said, “Prithee, leave

something alive; thou emptiest to us both mountain and forest.” And

Siegfried laughed.

The noise of the chase was all round them; hill and wood rang with

shouting and the baying of dog, for the huntsmen had loosed twenty and

four hounds. Many a beast perished that day, for each thought to win

the prize of the chase. But when stark Siegfried rode to the

tryst-fire, they saw that could not be.

The hunt was almost over. The sportsmen brought skins and game enow

with them to the camp. No lack of meat for cooking was there, I ween.

Then the king bade tell the knights that he would dine. And they blew a

blast on a horn, that told the king was at the tryst-fire.

Said one of Siegfried’s huntsmen, “I heard the blast of a horn bidding

us back to the camp. I will answer it.” And they kept blowing to

assemble the company.

Siegfried bade quit the wood. His horse bare him smoothly, and the

others pricked fast behind. The noise roused a grim bear, whereat the

knight cried to them that came after him, “Now for sport! Slip the dog,

for I see a bear that shall with us to the tryst-fire. He cannot escape

us, if he ran ever so fast.”

They slipped the limehound; off rushed the bear. Siegfried thought to

run him down, but he came to a ravine, and could not get to him; then

the bear deemed him safe. But the proud knight sprang from his horse,

and pursued him. The beast had no shelter. It could not escape from

him, and was caught by his hand, and, or it could wound him, he had

bound it, that it could neither scratch nor bite. Then he tied it to

his saddle, and, when he had mounted up himself, he brought it to the

tryst-fire for pastime.

How right proudly he rode to the camping ground! His boar-spear was

mickle, stark and broad. His sword hung down to the spur, and his

hunting-horn was of ruddy gold. Of better hunting-gear I never heard

tell. His coat was black samite, and his hat was goodly sable. His

quiver was richly laced, and covered with a panther’s hide for the sake

of the sweet smell. He bare, also, a bow that none could draw but

himself, unless with a windlass. His cloak was a lynx-skin, pied from

head to foot, and embroidered over with gold on both sides. Also

Balmung had he done on, whereof the edges were so sharp that it clave

every helmet it touched. I ween the huntsman was merry of his cheer.

Yet, to tell you the whole, I must say how his rich quiver was filled

with good arrows, gilt on the shaft, and broad a hand’s breadth or

more. Swift and sure was the death of him that he smote therewith.

So the knight rode proudly from the forest, and Gunther’s men saw him

coming, and ran and held his horse.

When he had alighted, he loosed the band from the paws and from the

mouth of the bear that he had bound to his saddle.

So soon as they saw the bear, the dogs began to bark. The animal tried

to win back to the wood, and all the folk fell in great fear.

Affrighted by the noise, it ran through the kitchen. Nimbly started the

scullions from their place by the fire. Pots were upset and the brands

strewed over all. Alack! the good meats that tumbled into the ashes!

Then up sprang the princes and their men. The bear began to growl, and

the king gave order to slip the hounds that were on leash. I’faith, it

had been a merry day if it had ended so.

Hastily, with their bows and spears, the warriors, swift of foot,

chased the bear, but there were so many dogs that none durst shoot

among them, and the forest rang with the din. Then the bear fled before

the dogs, and none could keep pace with him save Kriemhild’s husband,

that ran up to him and pierced him dead with his sword, and carried the

carcase back with him to the fire. They that saw it said he was a

mighty man.

Then they bade the sportsmen to the table, and they sat down, a goodly

company enow, on a fair meadow. Ha! what dishes, meet for heroes, were

set before them. But the cup-bearers were tardy, that should have

brought the wine. Save for that, knights were never better served. If

there had not been false-hearted men among them, they had been without

reproach. The doomed man had no suspicion that might have warned him,

for his own heart was pure of all deceit. Many that his death profited

not at all had to pay for it bitterly.

Then said Sir Siegfried, “I marvel, since they bring us so much from

the kitchen, that they bring not the wine. If good hunters be entreated

so, I will hunt no more. Certes, I have deserved better at your hands.”

Whereto the king at the table answered falsely, “What lacketh to-day we

will make good another time. The blame is Hagen’s, that would have us

perish of thirst.”

Then said Hagen of Trony, “Dear master, Methought we were to hunt

to-day at Spessart, and I sent the wine thither. For the present we

must go thirsty; another time I will take better care.”

But Siegfried cried, “Small thank to him. Seven sumpters with meat and

spiced wines should he have sent here at the least, or, if that might

not be, we should have gone nigher to the Rhine.”

Hagen of Trony answered, “I know of a cool spring close at hand. Be not

wroth with me, but take my counsel, and go thither.” The which was

done, to the hurt of many warriors. Siegfried was sore athirst and bade

push back the table, that he might go to the spring at the foot of the

mountain. Falsely had the knights contrived it. The wild beasts that

Siegfried’s hand had slain they let pile on a waggon and take home, and

they that saw it praised him.

Foully did Hagen break faith with Siegfried. He said, when they were

starting for the broad lime tree, “I hear from all sides that none can

keep pace with Kriemhild’s husband when he runneth. Let us see now.”

Bold Siegfried of the Netherland answered, “Thou mayst easily prove it,

if thou wilt run with me to the brook for a wager. The praise shall be

to him that winneth there first.”

“Let us see then,” said Hagen the knight.

And stark Siegfried answered, “If I lose, I will lay me at thy feet in

the grass.”

A glad man was King Gunther when he heard that!

Said Siegfried further, “Nay, I will undertake more. I will carry on me

all that I wear—spear, shield, and hunting gear.” Whereupon he girded

on his sword and his quiver in haste. Then the others did off their

clothes, till they stood in their white shirts, and they ran through

the clover like two wild panthers; but bold Siegfried was seen there

the first. Before all men he won the prize in everything. He loosed his

sword straightway, and laid down his quiver. His good spear he leaned

against the lime tree; then the noble guest stood and waited, for his

courtesy was great. He laid down his shield by the stream. Albeit he

was sore athirst, he drank not till that the king had finished, who

gave him evil thanks.

The stream was cool, pure, and good. Gunther bent down to the water,

and rose again when he had drunk. Siegfried had gladly done the like,

but he suffered for his courtesy. Hagen carried his bow and his sword

out of his reach, and sprang back and gripped the spear. Then he spied

for the secret mark on his vesture; and while Siegfried drank from the

stream, Hagen stabbed him where the cross was, that his heart’s blood

spurted out on the traitor’s clothes. Never since hath knight done so

wickedly. He left the spear sticking deep in his heart, and fled in

grimmer haste than ever he had done from any man on this earth afore.

When Siegfried felt the deep wound, he sprang up maddened from the

water, for the long boar spear stuck out from his heart. He thought to

find bow or sword; if he had, Hagen had got his due. But the

sore-wounded man saw no sword, and had nothing save his shield. He

picked it up from the water’s edge and ran at Hagen. King Gunther’s man

could not escape him. For all that he was wounded to the death, he

smote so mightily that the shield well-nigh brake, and the precious

stones flew out. The noble guest had fain taken vengeance.

Hagen fell beneath his stroke. The meadow rang loud with the noise of

the blow. If he had had his sword to hand, Hagen had been a dead man.

But the anguish of his wound constrained him. His colour was wan; he

could not stand upright; and the strength of his body failed him, for

he bare death’s mark on his white cheek. Fair women enow made dole for

him.

Then Kriemhild’s husband fell among the flowers. The blood flowed fast

from his wound, and in his great anguish he began to upbraid them that

had falsely contrived his death. “False cowards!” cried the dying

knight. “What availeth all my service to you, since ye have slain me? I

was true to you, and pay the price for it. Ye have done ill by your

friends. Cursed by this deed are your sons yet unborn. Ye have avenged

your spite on my body all too bitterly. For your crime ye shall be

shunned by good knights.”

All the warriors ran where he lay stabbed. To many among them it was a

woeful day. They that were true mourned for him, the which the hero had

well deserved of all men.

The King of Burgundy, also, wept for his death, but the dying man said,

“He needeth not to weep for the evil, by whom the evil cometh. Better

had he left it undone, for mickle is his blame.”

Then said grim Hagen, “I know not what ye rue. All is ended for us—care

and trouble. Few are they now that will withstand us. Glad am I that,

through me, his might is fallen.”

“Lightly mayst thou boast now,” said Siegfried; “if I had known thy

murderous hate, it had been an easy thing to guard my body from thee.

My bitterest dole is for Kriemhild, my wife. God pity me that ever I

had a son. For all men will reproach him that he hath murderers to his

kinsmen. I would grieve for that, had I the time.”

He said to the king, “Never in this world was so foul a murder as thou

hast done on me. In thy sore need I saved thy life and thine honour.

Dear have I paid for that I did well by thee.” With a groan the wounded

man said further, “Yet if thou canst show truth to any on this earth, O

King, show it to my dear wife, that I commend to thee. Let it advantage

her to be thy sister. By all princely honour stand by her. Long must my

father and my knights wait for my coming. Never hath woman won such woe

through a dear one.”

He writhed in his bitter anguish, and spake painfully, “Ye shall rue

this foul deed in the days to come. Know this of a truth, that in

slaying me ye have slain yourselves.”

The flowers were all wet with blood. He strove with death, but not for

long, for the weapon of death cut too deep. And the bold knight and

good spake no more.

When the warriors saw that the hero was dead, they laid him on a shield

of ruddy gold, and took counsel how they should conceal that Hagen had

done it. Many of them said, “Evil hath befallen us. Ye shall all hide

it, and hold to one tale—when Kriemhild’s husband was riding alone in

the forest, robbers slew him.”

But Hagen of Trony said, “I will take him back to Burgundy. If she that

hath troubled Brunhild know it, I care not. It concerneth me little if

she weep.”

Of that very brook where Siegfried was slain ye shall hear the truth

from me. In the Odenwald is a village that hight Odenheim, and there

the stream runneth still; beyond doubt it is the same.

Seventeenth Adventure

How Siegfried Was Mourned and Buried

They tarried there that night, and then crossed the Rhine. Heroes never

went to so woeful a hunt. For one thing that they slew, many women

wept, and many a good knight’s body paid for it. Of overweening pride

ye shall hear now, and grim vengeance.

Hagen bade them bear dead Siegfried of the Nibelung land before the

chamber where Kriemhild was, and charged them to lay him secretly

outside the door, that she might find him there when she went forth to

mass or it was day, the which she was wont to do.

The minster bell was rung as the custom was. Fair Kriemhild waked her

maidens, and bade them bring her a light and her vesture.

Then a chamberlain came and found Siegfried. He saw him red with blood,

and his garment all wet, but he knew not yet that he was his king. He

carried the light into the room in his hand, and from him Kriemhild

heard evil tidings.

When she would have gone with her women to the minster, the chamberlain

said, “Lady, stop! A murdered knight lieth on the threshold.”

“Woe is me!” cried Kriemhild. “What meanest thou by such news?”

Or she knew for certain that it was her husband, she began to think on

Hagen’s question, how he might guard him. From that moment her dole

began; for, with his death, she took leave of all joy. She sank on the

floor speechless; they saw the miserable woman lying there. Kriemhild’s

woe was great beyond measure, and after her swoon she cried out, that

all the chamber rang.

Then said her attendants, “What if it be a stranger?”

But the blood burst from her mouth by reason of her heart’s anguish,

and she said, “Nay, it is Siegfried, my dear husband. Brunhild hath

counselled it, and Hagen hath done it.”

The lady bade them show her where the hero lay. She lifted his

beautiful head with her white hands. Albeit he was red with blood, she

knew him straightway. Pitifully the hero of the Netherland lay there.

The gentle, good queen wailed in anguish, “Woe is me for this wrong!

Thy shield is unpierced by swords. Thou liest murdered. If I knew who

had done this deed, I would not rest till he was dead.”

All her attendants wailed and cried with their dear mistress, for they

were woe for their noble master that they had lost. Foully had Hagen

avenged Brunhild’s anger.

The sorrowful one said, “Go and wake Siegfried’s men quickly; and tell

Siegmund also my dole, that he may help me to mourn for brave

Siegfried.”

Then a messenger ran in haste where Siegfried’s heroes of the Nibelung

land lay, and took from them their joy with heavy tidings. They

believed it not, till they heard the wailing.

The messenger also came quickly where the king was. Siegmund slept not.

I ween his heart told him what had happened, and that he would see his

dear son never more.

“Arouse thee, Sir Siegmund! Kriemhild, my lady, hath sent me. For a

wrong hath been done her, that lieth heavier on her heart than any

other hath done. Thou shalt help her to mourn, for it is thy sorrow

also.”

Up rose Sir Siegmund then, and said, “What is fair Kriemhild’s grief,

whereof thou tellest me?”

The messenger answered, weeping, “She mourneth with cause. Bold

Siegfried of the Netherland is slain.”

But Siegmund said, “Jest not with these evil tidings of my son, and say

to none that he is slain; for never to my life’s end could I mourn him

enow.”

“If thou believest not what I tell thee, hearken thyself to Kriemhild,

how she maketh dole for Siegfried’s death with all her maidens.”

Then Siegmund feared and was sore affrighted. With an hundred of his

men he sprang out of his bed; they grasped their long swords and keen,

with their hands, and ran sorrowfully where they heard the sound of

weeping. A thousand of Siegfried’s knights came running. They thought

not on their vesture till they were there, for they had lost their wits

through grief. Mickle woe was buried in their hearts.

Then came Siegmund to Queen Kriemhild, and said, “Woe is me for our

journey hither! Who, among such good friends, hath murderously robbed

me of my child, and thee of thy husband?”

“If I knew that,” answered the noble woman, “I were ever his foe with

heart and soul. Trust me, I would so contrive his hurt that all his

friends, by reason of me, would yet weep for sorrow.”

Siegmund took the prince in his arms; the grief of his friends was so

great that, with their loud wailing and their weeping, palace and hall

and the town of Worms rang again. None could comfort Siegfried’s wife.

They took the clothes off his beautiful body, and washed his wounds and

laid him on a bier, and all his folk were heavy with great grief.

Then spake his knights of the Netherland, “Our hands are ready for

vengeance. He that hath done it is in this house.”

Siegfried’s men armed them in haste; the valiant knights assembled to

the number of eleven hundred. These had Siegmund, the mighty king, for

his following; and, as his honour bade him, he had gladly avenged the

death of his son. They knew not whom they should fall on, if it were

not Gunther and his men, with whom Siegfried had gone hunting.

But when Kriemhild saw them armed, she was greatly grieved. For all her

dole and her pain, she so feared the death of the Nibelungs at the hand

of her brother’s men that she forbade their vengeance, and warned them

in love, as friend doth with dear friend.

The sorrowful queen said, “My lord, Siegmund, what wouldst thou do?

Surely thou knowest not how many bold knights Gunther hath. If ye come

to grips with them, ye must certainly perish.”

They stood eager for strife with their shields dressed, but the queen

begged and commanded them to forbear; that they would not, grieved her

sore.

She said, “My lord Siegmund, let be, till more fitting season, and I

will help thee to avenge my husband. Verily, I will show him that took

him from me that he hath done it to his hurt. Here by the Rhine there

are so many overweening men that I would have thee, for the present,

forbear from battle; for thy one man they have at least the thirty. God

do to them as they have done to us. Tarry here, brave knights, and

mourn with me till it is day, and help me to lay my dear husband in his

coffin.”

The warriors answered, “Dear lady, be it so.”

None might tell to the end the wailing that arose there from knights

and women. It was so loud that they in the town heard it, and the noble

burghers hasted thither, and mourned with the guests, for they were

right sorrowful. They knew no fault in Siegfried for which he had lost

his life, and the good burgesses’ wives wept with the women of the

court.

They bade the smiths go and make a coffin of silver and of gold, mickle

and stark, and brace it strongly with good steel. Right heavy of their

cheer were all the folk.

The night was ended. They told them it was day, and the queen gave

order to bear the dead knight, her dear husband, to the minster; and

all the friends he had there followed weeping.

When they came to the minster, how many a bell rang out! On all sides

they sang requiems. Thither came King Gunther with his men, and also

grim Hagen, that had better stayed away.

Gunther said, “Dear sister, woe is me for this grief of thine, and that

this great misadventure hath befallen us. We must ever mourn

Siegfried’s death.”

“Ye do wrongly,” said the wailing queen. “If it grieved thee, it had

never happed. I was clean forgotten by thee when thou didst part me

from my dear husband. Would to God thou hadst done it to me instead!”

But they held to their lie, and Kriemhild went on. “Let him that is

guiltless prove it. Let him go up to the bier before all the folk, and

soon we shall know the truth.”

It is a great marvel, and ofttimes seen even now, how that, when the

murderer standeth by the dead, the wounds bleed again. And so it fell

then, and Hagen’s guilt was plain to all.

The wounds burst open and bled as they had done afore; and they that

had wept already wept now much more. King Gunther said, “Hear the

truth. He was slain by robbers. Hagen did it not.”

“These robbers,” she answered, “I know well. God grant that his

kinsmen’s hands may avenge it. By you, Gunther and Hagen, was it done.”

Siegfried’s knights had fain fallen on them, but Kriemhild said, “Help

me to bear my woe.”

Gernot her brother, and Giselher the youth, both came and found

Siegfried dead; they mourned for him truly, and their eyes were blind

with tears. They wept for Kriemhild’s husband from their hearts.

It was time to sing mass, and men and women flocked from all quarters.

Even they that missed him little mourned with the rest.

Gernot and Giselher said, “Comfort thee, sister, for the dead, for so

it must needs be now. We will make it good to thee while we live.” But

comfort her could none.

His coffin was ready by the middle of the day, and they lifted the dead

man from the bier whereon he lay, but the queen would not let them bury

him yet. All his folk must first toil sore.

They wound him in a rich cloth. Not one, I ween, was there that wept

not. Uta, the noble queen and all her women wailed bitterly for

Siegfried.

When the folk heard they sang the requiem, and that Siegfried was in

his chest, they crowded thither, and brought offerings for his soul.

Amidst of his enemies, he had good friends enow.

Then poor Kriemhild said to her chamberlain, “For my sake, stint not

thy labour. For Siegfried’s soul, divide his wealth among them that

were well minded to him, and are true to me.”

The smallest child, if he understood all, must go with its offering or

he was buried. They sang at the least an hundred masses a day. And

great was the press among Siegfried’s friends.

When they had done singing, the folk rose and departed; but Kriemhild

said, “Leave me not alone to watch the valiant knight. With his body

lieth all my joy. Three days and three nights will I keep him here,

till that I have had my fill of my dear husband. What if God let death

take me too? So the sorrow of poor Kriemhild were ended.”

The townsfolk went home; and priests, and monks, and all them that had

served Siegfried, she bade tarry. Heavy were their nights and toilsome

their days. Many a man neither ate nor drank, but they that desired it

were bidden take their fill. Siegmund saw to that. No easy time had the

Nibelungs. They say that all that could sing got no rest. What

offerings were brought! The poorest was rich enow, for they that had

naught were bidden bring an offering from the gold of Siegfried’s own

hoard. When he lived no more, they gave many thousand marks for his

soul. Kriemhild bestowed lands and revenues over all, on cloisters and

holy men. Silver and clothes in plenty they gave to the poor. She

showed plain the love she bare Siegfried.

On the third morning, when mass was due, the great churchyard by the

minster was full of weeping countryfolk; for they served him in death

as dear friends should.

They say that, in these four days, thirty thousand marks, or more, were

given to the poor for his soul’s sake, when his beauty and his life

were brought to nothing.

God had been served; the song was done. The folk were shaken with

weeping. They bade carry him from the minster to the grave, and naught

was heard but crying and mourning.

With loud wail the people followed after. None was joyful, neither

woman nor man. They sang and read or they buried him. Ah, what good

priests were at his funeral!

Or Siegfried’s wife came to the grave, her faithful body was wrung with

such grief that they ceased not from sprinkling her with water. None

could measure her sorrow.

It was a wonder that she lived. Her weeping women helped her. Then said

the queen, “Ye men of Siegfried, as ye love me, do me this grace. Give

me, in my sorrow, this little joy: to see his dear head once more.” She

begged this so long, and with such bitter weeping, that they brake open

the rich chest.

Then they bought the queen where he was. She lifted his lovely head

with her white hand, and kissed him. Her bright eyes, for grief, wept

blood. It was a pitiful parting.

Then they carried her thence, for she could not walk. And she lay in a

swoon, as her fair body would have perished for sorrow.

When the noble knight was buried, they that were come with him from the

land of the Nibelungs made measureless dole. Little joy was seen in

Siegmund. For three whole days some neither ate nor drank for woe.

Longer than that their bodies endured it not. And so they ate and got

well of their grief, as many a one doth still.

Kriemhild lay senseless in a swoon all that day and that night, till

the next morning; she knew nothing that they said. And in like case lay

also King Siegmund. Scarce got the knight his wits again, for his

strength was weakened by reason of his great dole. It was no wonder.

Then his men said, “Sir knight, let us home. We may not tarry longer

here.”

Eighteenth Adventure

How Siegmund Returned Home

Kriemhild’s father-in-law went to her and said, “Let us home to our

land. I ween we are unwelcome guests by the Rhine. Kriemhild, dear

lady, return to my country with me. That treason has bereft thee here

of thy dear husband shall not be avenged on thee. I will stand by thee

truly, for love of thy husband and his noble child. Thou shalt also

have all the power that Siegfried, the valiant knight, gave thee. The

land and the crown are thine, and all Siegfried’s men shall serve thee

gladly.”

They told the squires they would away. There was hurrying for the

horses, for life was a burden to them among their stark foemen. Women

and maidens were bidden seek out their clothes.

But when King Siegmund would have set out, Kriemhild’s mother began to

beg that she would remain among her kinsfolk.

The wretched queen said, “That could hardly be. How could I have ever

before mine eyes him that hath brought this woe upon me, miserable

woman that I am?”

Giselher the youth said, “Dear sister mine, thy duty is here by thy

mother. Thou need’st no service from them that have wounded and

darkened thy spirit, for thou shalt live at my sole charge.”

But she answered the knight, “It cannot be; I must die of grief but to

look on Hagen.”

“Nay, I counsel thee, dear sister, to stay by thy brother Giselher; and

I will make good to thee thy husband’s death.”

But the God-forsaken one answered, “Need enow hath Kriemhild of

comfort.”

While the youth besought her so kindly, Uta and Gernot began to pray

her, and her faithful kinsmen also, that she should tarry, for she had

few kinsmen among Siegfried’s men.

“They are all strangers to thee,” said Gernot, “and however strong a

friend may be, one day he must die. Consider it, dear sister, and take

comfort and stay here by thy kinsfolk. It were better for thee.”

So she promised Giselher she would remain there.

The horses were led out for Siegmund’s men, for they were ready to ride

back to the land of the Nibelungs; and their harness was laid on the

sumpters.

Then went Siegmund to Kriemhild, and said to her, “Siegfried’s men wait

by their horses. Let us away, for it irketh me here by the

Burgundians.”

Kriemhild answered, “They that are faithful among my kinsfolk counsel

me to abide here with them. I have no kinsmen in the Nibelung land.”

Siegmund was woeful when he heard this from Kriemhild, and he said,

“Let none tell thee that. Before all my kinsmen shalt thou wear the

crown, and have dominion as aforetime; no man shall avenge on thee the

loss of the hero. Come with us for thy little child’s sake. Leave it

not an orphan. When thy son is grown to a man he shall comfort thee;

and meanwhile many a bold knight and good shall serve thee.”

But she answered, “My lord Siegmund, I cannot go. Whatso come of it, I

must tarry here with my kinsfolk, who will help me to mourn.”

The warriors liked not the news, and they said with one accord, “Then

might we bewail our wrong indeed, if thou shouldst abide here by our

foemen. Heroes never rode to a sorrier hightide.”

“Depart without fear, and in God’s keeping. I will see that ye come

well escorted to your land. I commend my dear child to your care.”

When they saw plain that she would not go, Siegmund’s men all fell to

weeping. How right piteously Siegmund parted from Kriemhild! His grief

was bitter, and he said, “Woe is me for this hightide! Never yet hath

such evil befallen a king and his men at a feast. They shall see us no

more in Burgundy.”

Siegfried’s men said openly, “Nay, we might well ride hither again if

we knew who had murdered our master. Among his kinsmen they have stark

foes enow.”

Siegmund kissed Kriemhild, and spake dolefully when he saw she would

tarry, “We fare home joyless to our land. Now, for the first time, I

know all my sorrows.”

They rode, without an escort, from Worms across the Rhine. Well might

the Nibelungs fear nothing from the assault of foemen, with their own

strong hand to guard them.

They took leave of none; but Gernot and Giselher went to them lovingly,

for they grieved for their loss, and told them so.

Gernot said courteously, “God in Heaven knoweth that I had no blame in

Siegfried’s death; neither was it told me, that any here bare him

malice. With true heart I sorrow for him.”

Giselher the youth gave them good escort. He brought the king and his

knights home to the Netherland without further mischance.

How it fared with them after, I cannot tell. But Kriemhild was ever

heard mourning, and none comforted her save Giselher—he was true and

good.

Fair Brunhild sat misproud, and recked little how Kriemhild wept. She

was never kind to her again. Also to her, afterward, Kriemhild caused

bitter heart’s dole.

Nineteenth Adventure

How the Nibelung Hoard Came to Worms

When noble Kriemhild was widowed, Count Eckewart stayed by her in

Burgundy with his men, as honour bade him, and served his mistress with

goodwill till his death.

At Worms, by the minster, they gave her a room, wide and high, rich and

spacious, where she sat joyless with her attendants. To church she went

often and gladly. Since her dear one was buried, how seldom she failed

there! She went thither sorrowfully every day, and prayed to great God

for his soul. Faithfully and without stint the knight was mourned.

Uta and her women ceased not to comfort her. But her heart was wounded

so deep that she could not be cheered. She sorrowed for Siegfried more

than wife ever did for husband. Her great love appeared therein, and

she mourned him to the end, while her life endured. Strong and true she

took vengeance at the last.

So she remained (I say sooth) till the fourth year after her husband’s

death, and had spoken no word to Gunther, nor once, in the whole of

that time, had looked on Hagen, her foe.

Then said Hagen of Trony, “Couldst thou contrive that thy sister took

thee to friend again? So would the Nibelung gold come into this land.

Thou mightest win much thereof for thyself, if the queen were

appeased.”

“We will try it,” answered the king. “I will send my brothers thither,

that haply they may prevail upon her to do it gladly.”

But Hagen said, “I doubt that will never be.”

Gunther sent Ortwin and the Margrave Gary to the court. When that was

done, they brought Gernot, and Giselher the youth. And on friendly wise

they essayed it with Kriemhild.

Bold Gernot of Burgundy said, “Lady, thou mournest Siegfried’s death

too long. The king will prove to thee that it was not he that slew him.

Evermore thou art heard wailing bitterly.”

She said, “No one blameth the king. Hagen’s hand slew him, and from me

he discovered where he should stab. How could I know he hated him? Good

care had I taken then not to betray his beautiful body, and had not

needed now to weep, wretched woman that I am. I will never be the

friend of them that did it.”

Then began Giselher, the valiant man, to entreat her.

She said, “Ye give me no peace. I must greet him, but great is your

blame therein, for without fault of mine the king hath brought on me

bitter heart’s dole. With my mouth I may pardon him, but with my heart,

never.”

“After this it will be better,” thought her friends. “What if he so

entreat her that she grow glad again?”

“He may yet make it good to her,” said Gernot, the warrior.

And the sorrowful woman said, “See, I will do as ye desire; I will

greet the king.”

When they told him that, the king went with his best friends to her.

But Hagen durst not come before her. Well he knew his guilt, and that

he had done her a wrong.

Since she had hid her hate to him, Gunther deemed it well to kiss her.

If he had not wrought her such woe, he might have gone often and boldly

into her presence.

Friends were never reconciled with so many tears, for her wrongs

weighed heavy on her heart. She forgave them all, save the one man, for

none but Hagen had slain him.

Soon after, they contrived that Kriemhild won the great hoard from the

land of the Nibelungs, and brought it to the Rhine. It was her

marriage-morning gift, and rightly hers. Giselher and Gernot went for

it. Kriemhild sent eighty hundred men to fetch it from where it lay

hid, and where Albric with his nearest kinsmen guarded it.

When they saw the men of the Rhine come for the treasure, bold Albric

spake to his friends, “We dare not refuse her the treasure, for it is

the noble queen’s wedding gift. Yet we had never parted with it, if we

had not lost with Siegfried the good _Tarnkappe_. At all times it was

worn by fair Kriemhild’s husband. A woeful thing hath it proved for

Siegfried that he took from us the _Tarnkappe_, and won all this land

to his service.”

Then the chamberlain went and got the keys. Kriemhild’s men and some of

her kinsmen stood before the mountain. They carried the hoard to the

sea, on to the ships, and bare it across the waves from the mountain to

the Rhine.

Now hear the marvels of this treasure. Twelve wagons scarce carried it

thence in four days and four nights, albeit each of them made the

journey three times. It was all precious stones and gold, and had the

whole world been bought therewith, there had not been one coin the

less. Certes, Hagen did not covet it without cause.

The wishing-rod lay among it, the which, if any discovered it, made him

master over every man in all the world.

Many of Albric’s kinsmen went with Gernot. When Gernot and Giselher the

youth got possession of the hoard, there came into their power lands,

and castles, also, and many a good warrior, that served them through

fear of their might.

When the hoard came into Gunther’s land, and the queen got it in her

keeping, chambers and towers were filled full therewith. One never

heard tell of so marvelous a treasure. But if it had been a thousand

times more, but to have Siegfried alive again, Kriemhild had gladly

stood bare by his side. Never had hero truer wife.

Now that she had the hoard, it brought into the land many stranger

knights; for the lady’s hand gave more freely than any had ever seen.

She was kind and good; that must one say of her.

To poor and rich she began to give, till Hagen said that if she lived

but a while longer, she would win so many knights to her service that

it must go hard with the others.

But King Gunther said, “It is her own. It concerneth me not how she

useth it. Scarcely did I win her pardon. And now I ask not how she

divideth her jewels and her red gold.”

But Hagen said to the king, “A wise man would leave such a treasure to

no woman. By reason of her largess, a day will come that the bold

Burgundians may rue.”

Then King Gunther said, “I sware an oath to her that I would do her no

more hurt, nor will I do it. She is my sister.”

But Hagen said, “Let me be the guilty one.”

And so they brake their oath and took from the widow her rich hoard.

Hagen got hold of all the keys.

Gernot was wroth when he heard thereof, and Giselher said, “Hagen hath

greatly wronged Kriemhild. I should have withstood him. Were he not my

kinsman, he should answer for it with his life.”

Then Siegfried’s wife began to weep anew.

And Gernot said, “Sooner than be troubled with this gold, let us sink

it in the Rhine. Then it were no man’s.”

She went wailing to Giselher, and said, “Dear brother, forsake me not,

but be my kind and good steward.”

He answered her, “I will, when we win home again. For the present we

ride on a journey.”

The king and his kinsmen left the land. He took the best he had with

him. Only Hagen tarried behind through the hate he bare Kriemhild, and

that he might work her ill.

Or the great king came back, Hagen had seized all the treasure and sunk

it in the Rhine at Lochheim. He thought to profit thereby, but did not.

Or Hagen hid the treasure, they had sworn a mighty oath that it should

remain a secret so long as they lived. Neither could they take it

themselves nor give it to another.

The princes returned, and with them many knights. Thereupon Kriemhild,

with her women and her maidens, began to bewail her wrong bitterly. She

was right woeful. And the knights made as to slay Hagen, and said with

one accord, “He hath done evilly.” So he fled from before their anger

till they took him in favour again. They let him live, but Kriemhild

hated him with deadly hate.

Her heart was heavy with new grief for her husband’s murder, and that

they had stolen her treasure, and till her last day she ceased not to

wail.

After Siegfried’s death (I say sooth) she mourned till the thirteenth

year, nor could she forget the hero. She was ever true to him, and for

this folk have praised her.

Uta founded a rich abbey with her wealth after Dankrat’s death, and

endowed it with great revenue, the which it draweth still. It is the

Abbey of Lorsch, renowned to this day. Kriemhild also gave no little

part thereto, for Siegfried’s soul, and for the souls of all the dead.

She gave gold and precious stones with willing hand. Seldom have we

known a truer wife.

After that Kriemhild forgave Gunther, and yet, through his fault, lost

her great treasure, her heart’s dole was a thousand times worse than

afore, and she was fain to be gone. A rich palace was built for Uta

fast by the cloister of Lorsch. She left her children and went thither,

and there she lieth still, buried in her coffin.

Then said the queen, “Dearest daughter mine, since thou canst not tarry

here, dwell with me in my house at Lorsch, and cease from weeping.”

But Kriemhild answered, “To whom then should I leave my husband?”

“Leave him here,” said Uta.

“God in Heaven forbid!” said the good wife. “That could I never do,

dearest mother; he must go with me.”

The sorrowful one had his body taken up, and his noble bones were

buried again at Lorsch beside the minster with great honour; and there

the bold hero lieth in a long coffin.

But when Kriemhild would have journeyed thither with her mother, the

which she was fain to do, she was forced to tarry, by reason of news

that came from far beyond the Rhine.