“It is a long, long journey from this land to Burgundy, and many dangers
beset the road; and my own people would sadly miss me while away, and I
know not what mishaps might befall.”
Then Gere spoke of the queen-mother Ute, now grown old and feeble,
who wished once more, ere death called her hence, to see her daughter
Kriemhild. And he told how all the people, both high and low, yearned
for another sight of the radiant hero who in former days had blessed
their land with his presence and his noble deeds. And his persuasive
words had much weight with Siegfried, who said at length,--
“Tarry a few days yet for my answer. I will talk with my friends and the
Nibelungen earls; and what they think best, that will I do.”
For nine days, then, waited Gere at Siegfried’s hall; but still the king
put off his answer.
“Wait until to-morrow,” he said each day, for his heart whispered dim
forebodings.
At length, as midsummer was fast drawing near, the impatient captain
could stay no longer; and he bade his followers make ready to go back
forthwith to Burgundy. When the queen saw that they were ready to
take their leave, and that Gere could wait no longer upon the king’s
pleasure, she urged her husband to say to Gunther that they would come
to his harvest festival. And the lords and noble earl-folk added their
persuasions to hers.
“Send word back to the Burgundian king,” said they, “that you will go,
as he desires. We will see to it that no harm comes to your kingdom
while you are away.”
So Siegfried called Gere and his comrades into the ball, and loaded them
with costly gifts such as they had never before seen, and bade them say
to their master that he gladly accepted the kind invitation he had sent,
and that, ere the harvest high-tide began, he and Kriemhild would be
with him in Burgundy.
And the messengers went back with all speed, and told what wondrous
things they had seen in Nibelungen Land, and in what great splendor
Siegfried lived. And, when they showed the rare presents which had been
given them, all joined in praising the goodness and greatness of the
hero-king. But old chief Hagen frowned darkly as he said,--
“It is little wonder that he can do such things, for the Shining Hoard
of Andvari is his. If we had such a treasure, we, too, might live in
more than kingly grandeur.”
Early in the month of roses, Siegfried and his peerless queen, with a
retinue of more than a thousand warriors and many fair ladies, started
on their long and toilsome journey to the South-land. And the folk who
went with them to the city gates bade them mane tearful farewells, and
returned to their homes, feeling that the sunshine had gone forever from
the Nibelungen Land. But the sky was blue and cloudless, and the breezes
warm and mild, and glad was the song of the reapers as adown the seaward
highway the kingly company rode. Two days they rode through Mist Land,
to the shore of the peaceful sea. Ten days they sailed on the waters.
And the winds were soft and gentle; and the waves slept in the sunlight,
or merrily danced in their wake. But each day, far behind them, there
followed a storm-cloud, dark as night, and the pleasant shores of Mist
Land were hidden forever behind it. Five days they rode through the
Lowlands, and glad were the Lowland folk with sight of their hero-king.
Two days through the silent greenwood, and one o’er the barren moor, and
three amid vineyards and fields, and between orchards fruitful and fair,
they rode. And on the four and twentieth day they came in sight of the
quiet town, and the tall gray towers, where dwelt the Burgundian kings.
And a great company on horseback, with flashing shields and fine-wrought
garments and nodding plumes, came out to meet them. It was King Gernot
and a thousand of the best men and fairest women in Burgundy; and they
welcomed Siegfried and Kriemhild and their Nibelungen-folk to the fair
land of the Rhine. And then they turned, and rode back with them to the
castle. And, as the company passed through the pleasant streets of the
town, the people stood by the wayside, anxious to catch sight of the
radiant Siegfried on his sunbright steed, and of the peerless Kriemhild,
riding on a palfrey by his side. And young girls strewed roses in their
pathway, and hung garlands upon their horses; and every one shouted,
“Hail to the conquering hero! Hail to the matchless queen!”
When they reached the castle, King Gunther and Giselher met them, and
ushered them into the old familiar halls, where a right hearty welcome
greeted them from all the kingly household. And none seemed more glad
in this happy hour than Brunhild the warrior-queen, now more gloriously
beautiful than even in the days of yore.
When the harvest-moon began to shine full and bright, lighting up the
whole world from evening till morn with its soft radiance, the gay
festival so long looked forward to began. And care and anxiety, and the
fatigues of the long journey, were forgotten amid the endless round of
pleasure which for twelve days enlivened the whole of Burgundy. And the
chiefest honors were everywhere paid to Siegfried the hero-king, and to
Kriemhild the peerless queen of beauty.
Then Queen Brunhild called to mind, how, on a time, it had been told
her in Isenland that Siegfried was but the liegeman and vassal of King
Gunther; and she wondered why such honor should be paid to an underling,
and why the king himself should treat him with so much respect. And as
she thought of this, and of the high praises with which every one spoke
of Kriemhild, her mind became filled with jealous broodings. And soon
her bitter jealousy was turned to deadly hate; for she remembered then,
how, in the days long past, a noble youth, more beautiful and more
glorious than the world would ever see again, had awakened her from the
deep sleep that Odin’s thorn had given; and she remembered how Gunther
had won her by deeds of strength and skill which he never afterwards
could even imitate; and she thought how grand indeed was Kriemhild’s
husband compared with her own weak and wavering and commonplace lord.
And her soul was filled with sorrow and bitterness and deepest misery,
when, putting these thoughts together, she believed that she had in some
way been duped and cheated into becoming Gunther’s wife.
When at last the gay feast was ended, and most of the guests had gone
to their homes, she sought her husband, and thus broached the matter to
him.
“Often have I asked you,” said she, “why your sister Kriemhild was given
in marriage to a vassal, and as often have you put me off with vague
excuses. Often, too, have I wondered why your vassal, Siegfried, has
never paid you tribute for the lands which he holds from you, and why he
has never come to render you homage. Now he is here in your castle; but
he sets himself up, not as your vassal, but as your peer. I pray you,
tell me what such strange things mean. Was an underling and a vassal
ever known before to put himself upon a level with his liege lord?”
Gunther was greatly troubled, and he knew not what to say; for he feared
to tell the queen how they had deceived her when he had won the games at
Isenstein, and how the truth had ever since been kept hidden from her.
“Ask me not to explain this matter further than I have already done,”
he answered. “It is enough that Siegfried is the greatest of all my
vassals, and that his lands are broader even than my own. He has helped
me out of many straits, and has added much to the greatness and strength
of my kingdom: for this reason he has never been asked to pay us
tribute, and for this reason we grant him highest honors.”
But this answer failed to satisfy the queen.
“Is it not the first duty of a vassal,” she asked, “to help his liege
lord in every undertaking? If so, Siegfried has but done his duty, and
you owe him nothing. But you have not told me all. You have deceived me,
and you would fain deceive me again. You have a secret, and I will find
it out.”
The king made no answer, but walked silently and thoughtfully away.
It happened one evening, not long thereafter, that the two queens sat
together at an upper window, and looked down upon a company of men in
the courtyard below. Among them were the noblest earl-folk of Burgundy,
and Gunther the king, and Siegfried. But Siegfried towered above all the
rest; and he moved like a god among men.
“See my noble Siegfried!” cried Kriemhild in her pride. “How grandly he
stands there! What a type of manly beauty and strength! No one cares to
look at other men when he is near.”
“He maybe handsome,” answered Brunhild sadly; “and, for aught I know, he
may be noble. But what is all that by the side of kingly power? Were he
but the peer of your brother Gunther, then you might well boast.”
“He is the peer of Gunther,” returned Kriemhild. “And not only his peer,
but more; for he stands as high above him in kingly power and worth as
in bodily stature.”
“How can that be?” asked Brunhild, growing angry. “For, when Gunther so
gallantly won me at Isenstein, he told me that Siegfried was his vassal;
and often since that time I have heard the same. And even your husband
told me that Gunther was his liege lord.”
Queen Kriemhild laughed at these words, and answered, “I tell you again
that Siegfried is a king far nobler and richer and higher than any other
king on earth. Think you that my brothers would have given me to a mere
vassal to be his wife?”
Then Brunhild, full of wrath, replied, “Your husband is Gunther’s vassal
and my own, and he shall do homage to us as the humblest and meanest of
our underlings. He shall not go from this place until he has paid all
the tribute that has so long been due from him. Then we shall see who is
the vassal, and who is the lord.”
“Nay,” answered Kriemhild. “It shall not be. No tribute was ever due;
and, if homage is to be paid, it is rather Gunther who must pay it.”
“It shall be settled once for all!” cried Brunhild, now boiling over
with rage. “I will know the truth. If Siegfried is not our vassal, then
I have been duped; and I will have revenge.”
“It is well,” was the mild answer. “Let it be settled, once for all;
and then, mayhap, we shall know who it was who really won the games at
Isenstein, and you for Gunther’s wife.”