“The chances, fairest queen, have all been weighed, and nothing can
change our mind. Make your own terms, arrange every thing as pleases
you best. We accept your challenge, and ask to make a trial of our
strength.”
The warrior-maiden, without more words, bade her servants help her to
make ready at once for the contest. She donned a rich war-coat, brought
long ago from the far-off Lybian shores,--an armor which, it was said,
no sword could dint, and upon which the heaviest stroke of spear fell
harmless. Her hemlet was edged with golden lace, and sparkled all over
with rich gem-stones. Her lance, of wondrous length, a heavy weight for
three stout men, was brought. Her shield was as broad and as bright as
the sun, and three spans thick with steel and gold.
While the princess was thus arming herself, the heroes looked on with
amazement and fear. But Siegfried, unnoticed, hastened quietly out of
the hall, and through the open castle-gate, and sped like the wind to
the seashore and to their little ship. There he arrayed himself in the
Tarnkappe, and then, silent and unseen, he ran back to his friends in
the great hall.
“Be of good cheer,” he whispered in the ears of the trembling Gunther.
But the king could not see who it was that spoke to him, so well was
the hero hidden in the cloak of darkness. Yet he knew that it must be
Siegfried and he felt greatly encouraged.
Hagen’s frowning face grew darker, and the uneasy glances which shot
from beneath his shaggy eyebrows were not those of fear, but of anger
and deep anxiety. Dankwart gave up all as lost, and loudly bewailed
their folly.
“Must we, unarmed, stand still and see our liege lord slain for a
woman’s whim?” he cried. “Had we only our good swords, we might defy
this maiden-queen and all her Isenland.”
Brunhild overheard his words. Scornfully she called to her servants,
“Bring to these boasters their armor, and let them have their keen-edged
swords. Brunhild has no fear of such men, whether they be armed or
unarmed.”
When Hagen and Dankwart felt their limbs again enclosed in steel, and
when they held their trusty swords in hand, their uneasiness vanished,
and hope returned.
In the castle-yard a space was cleared, and Brunhild’s five hundred
warriors stood around as umpires. The unseen Siegfried kept close by
Gunther’s side.
“Fear not,” he said. “Do my bidding, and you are safe. Let me take your
shield. When the time comes, make you the movements, and trust me to do
the work.”
Then Brunhild threw her spear at Gunther’s shield. The mighty weapon
sped through the air with the swiftness of lightning; and, when it
struck the shield, both Gunther and the unseen Siegfried fell to the
ground, borne down by its weight and the force with which it was thrown.
Blood gushed from the nostrils of both; and sad would have been their
fate if the friendly Tarnkappe had not hidden Siegfried from sight, and
given him the strength of twelve giants. Quickly they rose. And Gunther
seemed to pick up the heavy shaft, but it was really Siegfried who
raised it from the ground. For one moment he poised the great beam in
the air, and then, turning the blunt end foremost, he sent it flying
back more swiftly than it had come. It struck the huge shield which
Brunhild held before her, with a sound that echoed to the farthest
cliffs of Isenland. The warrior-maiden was dashed to the earth; but,
rising at once, she cried,--
“That was a noble blow, Sir Gunther. I confess myself fairly outdone.
But there are two chances yet, and you will do well if you equal me in
those. We will now try hurling the stone, and jumping.”
Twelve men came forward, carrying a huge rough stone in weight a ton or
more. And Brunhild raised this mass of rock in her white arms, and held
it high above her head; then she swung it backwards once, and threw it a
dozen fathoms across the castle-yard. Scarcely had it reached the ground
when the mighty maiden leaped after, and landed just beside it. And the
thousand lookers-on shouted in admiration. But old Hagen bit his unshorn
lip, and cursed the day that had brought them to Isenland.
Gunther and the unseen Siegfried, not at all disheartened, picked up the
heavy stone, which was half buried in the ground, and, lifting it with
seeming ease, threw it swiftly forward. Not twelve, but twenty, fathoms
it flew; and Siegfried, snatching up Gunther in his arms, leaped after,
and landed close to the castle-wall. And Brunhild believed that Gunther
alone had done these great feats through his own strength and skill;
and she at once acknowledged herself beaten in the games, and bade her
vassals do homage to Gunther as their rightful liege lord.
Alas that the noblest of men-folk should gave stooped to such deed of
base deception! The punishment, although long delayed, came surely at
last; for not even the highest are exempt from obedience to Heaven’s
behests and the laws of right.
When the contest was ended, the unseen Siegfried ran quickly back to the
little ship, and hastily doffed the magic Tarnkappe. Then, in his own
form, he returned to the castle, and leisurely entered the castle-yard.
When he met his pleased comrades and the vanquished maiden-queen, he
asked in careless tones when the games would begin. All who heard his
question laughed; and Brunhild said,--
“Surely, Sir Siegfried, the old sleep-thorn of Isenstein must have
caught you, and held you in your ship. The games are over, and Gunther,
your liege lord, is the winner.”
At this news Siegfried seemed much delighted, as indeed he was. And all
went together to the great banquet-hall, where a rich feast was served
to our heroes and to the worthy earl-folk and warriors of Isenland.
Adventure XV. In Nibelungen Land Again.
When the folk of Isenland learned that their queen had been outwitted
and won by a strange chief from a far-off and unknown land, great was
their sorrow and dismay; for they loved the fair maiden-queen, and they
feared to exchange her mild reign for that of an untried foreigner. Nor
was the queen herself at all pleased with the issue of the late contest.
She felt no wish to leave her loved people, and her pleasant home, and
the fair island which was her kingdom, to take up her abode in a strange
land, as the queen of one for whom she could feel no respect. And every
one wondered how it was that a man like Gunther, so commonplace, and so
feeble in his every look and act, could have done such deeds, and won
the wary warrior-maiden.
“If it had only been Siegfried!” whispered the maidens among themselves.
“If it had only been Siegfried!” murmured the knights and the
fighting-men.
“If it had only been Siegfried!” thought the queen, away down in the
most secret corner of her heart. And she shut herself up in her room,
and gave wild vent to her feelings of grief and disappointment.
Then heralds mounted the swiftest horses, and hurried to every village
and farm, and to every high-towered castle, in the land. And they
carried word to all of Brunhild’s kinsmen and liegemen, bidding them to
come without delay to Isenstein. And every man arose as with one accord,
and hastened to obey the call of their queen. And the whole land was
filled with the notes of busy preparation for war. And day by day to the
castle the warriors came and went, and the sound of echoing horse-hoofs,
and the rattling of ready swords, and the ringing of the war-shields,
were heard on every hand.
“What means this treason?” cried Gunther in dismay. “The coy
warrior-maiden would fain break her plighted word; and we, here in our
weakness, shall perish from her wrath.”
And even old Hagen, who had never felt a fear when meeting a host in
open battle, was troubled at the thought of the mischief which was
brewing.
“‘Tis true, too true,” he said, and the dark frown deepened on his face,
“that we have done a foolish thing. For we four men have come to this
cheerless land upon a hopeless errand; and, if we await the gathering of
the storm, our ruin will be wrought.” And he grasped his sword-hilt with
such force, that his knuckles grew white as he paced fiercely up and
down the hall.
Dankwart, too, bewailed the fate that had driven them into this net,
from which he saw no way of escape. And both the warriors besought King
Gunther to take ship at once, and to sail for Rhineland before it was
too late. But Siegfried said,--
“What account will you give to the folk at home, if you thus go back
beaten, outwitted, and ashamed? Brave warriors, indeed! we should be
called. Wait a few days, and trust all to me. When Brunhild’s warriors
shall be outnumbered by our own, she will no longer hesitate, and our
return to Rhineland shall be a triumphant one; for we shall carry the
glorious warrior-queen home with us.”
“Yes,” answered Hagen, mocking, “we will wait until her warriors are
outnumbered by our own. But how long shall that be? Will the lightning
carry the word to Burgundy? and will the storm-clouds bring our brave
men from across the sea? Had you allowed King Gunther’s plans to be
followed, they would have been here with us now, and we might have
quelled this treason at the first.”
And Dankwart said, “By this time the fields of the South-land are green
with young corn, and the meadows are full of sweet-smelling flowers, and
the summer comes on apace. Why should we stay longer in this chilly and
fog-ridden land, waiting upon the whims of a fickle maiden,--as fickle
as the winds themselves? Better face the smiles and the jeers of the
folk at home than suffer shameful shipwreck in this cold Isenland.”
But Siegfried would not be moved by the weak and wavering words of his
once valiant comrades.
“Trust me,” he said, “and all will yet be well. Wait here but a few days
longer in quietness, while I go aboard ship, and fare away. Within three
days I will bring to Isenstein a host of warriors such as you have never
seen. And then the fickle fancies of Brunhild will flee, and she will no
longer refuse to sail with us to the now sunny South-land.”
Hagen frowned still more deeply; and as he strode away he muttered,
“He only wants to betray us, and leave us to die in this trap which he
himself has doubtless set for us.”
But Gunther anxiously grasped the hand of Siegfried, and said, “Go! I
trust you, and believe in you. But be sure not to linger, for no one
knows what a day may bring forth in this uncertain and variable clime.”
Without saying a word in reply, Siegfried turned, and hastened down to
the shore. Without any loss of time he unmoored the little ship, and
stepped aboard. Then he donned his Tarnkappe, spread the sails, and
seized the helm; and the vessel, like a bird with woven wings,
sped swiftly out of the bay, and Isenstein, with its wide halls
and glass-green towers, was soon lost to the sight of the invisible
helmsman. For four and twenty hours did Siegfried guide the flying
vessel as it leaped from wave to wave, and sent the white foam dashing
to left and right like flakes of snow. And late on the morrow he came to
a rock-bound coast, where steep cliffs and white mountain-peaks rose up,
as it were, straight out of the blue sea. Having found a safe and
narrow inlet, he moored his little bark; and, keeping the Tarnkappe well
wrapped around him, he stepped ashore. Briskly he walked along the rough
shore, and through a dark mountain-pass, until he came to a place well
known to him,--a place where, years before, he had seen a cavern’s
yawning mouth, and a great heap of shining treasures, and two princes
dying of hunger. But now, upon the selfsame spot there stood a frowning
fortress, dark and gloomy and strong, which Siegfried himself had built
in after-years; and the iron gates were barred and bolted fast, and no
living being was anywhere to be seen.
Loud and long did Siegfried, wrapped in his cloak of darkness, knock and
call outside. At last a grim old giant, who sat within, and kept watch
and ward of the gate, cried out,--
“Who knocks there?”