Kriemhild’s anger was as fleeting as an April cloud, which does but
threaten, and then passes away in tears and sunshine. But Brunhild’s was
like the dread winter storm that sweeps down from Niflheim, and brings
ruin and death in its wake. She felt that she had been cruelly wronged
in some way, and that her life had been wrecked, and she rested not
until she had learned the truth.
It was Hagen who at last told her the story of the cruel deceit that
had made her Gunther’s wife; and then her wrath and her shame knew no
bounds.
“Woe betide the day!” she cried,--“woe betide the day that brought me to
Rhineland, and made me the wife of a weakling and coward, and the jest
of him who might have done nobler things!”
Hagen smiled. He had long waited for this day.
“It was Siegfried, and Siegfried alone, who plotted to deceive you,”
he said. “Had it not been for him, you might still have been the happy
maiden-queen of Isenland. And now he laughs at you, and urges his queen,
Kriemhild, to scorn you as she would an underling.”
“I know it, I know it,” returned the queen in distress. “And yet how
grandly noble is the man! How he rushed through the flames to awaken me,
when no one else could save! How brave, how handsome,--and yet he has
been my bane. I can have no peace while he lives.”
Hagen smiled again, and a strange light gleamed from his dark eye. Then
he said, “Truly handsome and brave is he, but a viler traitor was never
born. He even now plots to seize this kingdom, and to add it to his
domain. Why else should he bring so great a retinue of Nibelungen
warriors to Burgundy? I will see King Gunther at once, and we will put
an end to his wicked projects.”
“Do even so, good Hagen,” said Brunhild. “Take him from my path, and
bring low the haughty pride of his wife, and I shall be content.”
“That I will do!” cried Hagen. “That I will do! Gunther is and shall be
the king without a peer; and no one shall dare dispute the worth and the
queenly beauty of his wife.”
Then the wily chief sought Gunther, and with cunning words poisoned his
weak mind. The feeble old king was easily made to believe that Siegfried
was plotting against his life, and seeking to wrest the kingdom from
him. And he forgot the many kind favors he had received at the hero’s
hand. He no longer remembered how Siegfried had slain the terror of the
Glittering Heath, and freed the Burgundians from many a fear; and how
he had routed the warlike hosts of the North-land, and made prisoners
of their kings; and how he had brought his voyage to Isenland to a happy
and successful ending. He forgot, also, that Siegfried was his sister’s
husband. He had ears and mind only for Hagen’s wily words.
“While this man lives,” said the dark-browed chief, “none of us are
safe. See how the people follow him! Hear how they shout at his coming!
They look upon him as a god, and upon Gunther as a nobody. If we are
wise, we shall rid ourselves of so dangerous a man.”
“It is but a week until he takes his leave of us, and goes back to his
own home in Nibelungen Land. Watch him carefully until that time, but do
him no harm. When he is once gone, he shall never come back again,” said
the king. But he spoke thus, not because of any kind feelings towards
Siegfried, but rather because he feared the Nibelungen hero.
“He has no thought of going at that time,” answered Hagen. “He speaks of
it, only to hide his wicked and traitorous plots. Instead of going home,
his plans will then be ready for action, and it will be too late for
us to save ourselves. Still, if you will not believe me, take your own
course. You have been warned.”
The cunning chief arose to leave the room; but Gunther, now thoroughly
frightened, stopped him.
“Hagen,” he said, “you have always been my friend, and the words which
you say are wise. Save us and our kingdom now, in whatsoever way you may
deem best. I know not what to do.”
Then the weak king and the warrior-chief talked long together in low,
hoarse whispers. And, when they parted, shame and guilt were stamped in
plain lines on Gunther’s face, from which they were nevermore erased;
and he dared not lift his gaze from the floor, fearing that his eyes
would betray him, if seen by any more pure-hearted than he. But a smile
of triumph played under the lurking gleams of Hagen’s eye; and he walked
erect and bold, as if he had done a praiseworthy deed.
That night a storm came sweeping down from the North, and the cold rain
fell in torrents; and great hailstones pattered on the roofs and towers
of the castle, and cruelly pelted the cattle in the fields, and the
birds in the friendly shelter of the trees. And old Thor fought
bravely with the Storm-giants; and all night long the rattle of his
chariot-wheels, and the heavy strokes of his dread hammer, were heard
resounding through the heavens. In his lonely chamber Hagen sat and
rubbed his hands together, and grimly smiled.
“The time so long waited for has come at last,” he said.
But the guilty king, unable to sleep, walked restlessly to and fro, and
trembled with fear at every sound of the storm-gust without.
When day dawned at last, a sad scene met the eyes of all beholders. The
earth was covered with the broken branches of leafy trees; the flowers
and shrubs were beaten pitilessly to the ground; and here and there lay
the dead bodies of little feathered songsters, who, the day before, had
made the woods glad with their music.
The sun had scarcely risen above this sorrowful scene, gilding the gray
towers and turrets and the drooping trees with the promise of
better things, than a strange confusion was noticed outside of the
castle-gates. Thirty and two horsemen wearing the livery of the
North-lands stood there, and asked to be led to the Burgundian kings.
“Who are you? and what is your errand?” asked the gate-keeper.
“We come as heralds and messengers from Leudiger and Leudigast, the
mighty kings of the North,” they answered. “But our errand we can tell
to no man save to Gunther your king, or to his brothers Gernot and
Giselher.”
Then they were led by the king’s command into the council-hall, where
sat Gunther, Gernot, and the noble Giselher; and behind them stood their
uncle and chief, brave old Hagen.
“What message bring you from our old friends Leudiger and Leudigast?”
asked Gunther of the strangers.
“Call them not your friends,” answered the chief of the company. “We
bring you this message from our liege lords, whom you may well count as
enemies. Many years ago they were sorely beaten in battle, and suffered
much hurt at your hands. And they vowed then to avenge the injury, and
to wipe out the disgrace you had caused them, just so soon as they were
strong enough to do so. Now they are ready, with fifty thousand men, to
march into your country. And they swear to lay waste your lands, and to
burn your towns and villages and all your castles, unless you at once
acknowledge yourselves their vassals, and agree to pay them tribute.
This is the kings’ message. And we were further ordered not to wait for
an answer, but to carry back to them without delay your reply, whether
you will agree to their terms or no.”
King Gunther, as was his wont, turned to Hagen for advice.
“Send for Siegfried,” whispered the chief.
It was done. And soon the hero came into the hall. His kingly grace and
warlike bearing were such that Gunther dared not raise his guilty eyes
from the ground; and Hagen’s furtive glances were, for the moment,
freighted with fear and shame. The message of the heralds was repeated
to Siegfried; and Gunther said,--
“Most noble friend, you hear what word these traitorous kings dare send
us. Now, we remember, that, long years ago, you led us against them,
and gave us a glorious victory. We remember, too, how, by your counsel,
their lives were spared, and they were sent home with costly gifts. It
is thus they repay our kindness. What answer shall we send them?”
“Say that we will fight,” answered Siegfried at once. “I will lead my
brave Nibelungens against them, and they shall learn how serious a thing
it is to break an oath, or to return treason for kindness.”
The news soon spread through all the town and through the country-side,
that Leudiger and Leudigast, with fifty thousand men, were marching into
Burgundy, and destroying every thing in their way. And great flight and
confusion prevailed. Men and women hurried hither and thither in dismay.
Soldiers busily sharpened their weapons, and burnished their armor,
ready for the fray. Little children were seen cowering at every sound,
and anxious faces were found everywhere.
When Queen Kriemhild saw the busy tumult, and heard the shouts and cries
in the street and the courtyard, and learned the cause of it all, she
was greatly troubled, and went at once to seek Siegfried. When she found
him, she drew him aside, and besought him not to take part in the war
which threatened, but to hasten with all speed back to their own loved
Nibelungen Land.
“And why would my noble queen wish me thus to play the part of a coward,
and to leave my friends when they most need my help?” asked Siegfried in
surprise.
“I would not have you play the coward,” answered Kriemhild, and hot
tears stood in her eyes. “But some unseen danger overhangs. There are
other traitors than Leudiger and Leudigast, and men to be more feared
than they. Last night I dreamed a fearful dream, and it follows me
still. I dreamed that you hunted in the forest, and that two wild boars
attacked you. The grass and the flowers were stained with your gore,
and the cruel tusks of the beasts tore you in pieces, and no one came
to your help. And I cried out in my distress, and awoke; and the
storm-clouds roared and threatened, and the hail pattered on the roof,
and the wind and rain beat against the windowpanes. Then I slept again,
and another dream, as fearful as the first, came to me. I dreamed that
you rode in the forest, and that music sprang up in your footsteps, and
all things living called you blessed, but that suddenly two mountains
rose up from the ground, and their high granite crags toppled over, and
fell upon you, and buried you from my sight forever. Then I awoke again,
and my heart has ever since been heavy with fearful forebodings. I know
that some dread evil threatens us; yet, what it is, I cannot tell. But
go not out against the North-kings. Our Nibelungen-folk wait too long
for your coming.”
Siegfried gayly laughed at his queen’s fears, and said, “The woof of
every man’s fate has been woven by the Norns, and neither he nor his
foes can change it. When his hour comes, then he must go to meet his
destiny.”
Then he led her gently back to her room in the castle, and bade her a
loving farewell, saying, “When the foes of our Burgundian hosts are put
to flight, and there is no longer need for us here, then will we hasten
back to Nibelungen Land. Have patience and hope for a few days only, and
all will yet be well. Forget your foolish dreams, and think only of my
glad return.”
It was arranged, that, in the march against the North-kings, Siegfried
with his Nibelungens should take the lead; while Hagen, with a picked
company of fighting-men, should bring up the rear. Every one was eager
to join in the undertaking; and no one, save King Gunther and his
cunning counsellor, and Ortwin and Dankwart, knew that the pretended
heralds from the North-kings were not heralds at all, but merely the
false tools of wicked Hagen. For the whole was but a well-planned plot,
as we shall see, to entrap unwary, trusting Siegfried.
Soon all things were in readiness for the march; but, as the day was now
well spent, it was agreed, that, at early dawn of the morrow, the little
army should set out. And every one went home to put his affairs in
order, and to rest for the night.
Late that evening old Hagen went to bid Siegfried’s queen good-by.
Kriemhild had tried hard to drown her gloomy fears, and to forget her
sad, foreboding dreams; but it was all in vain, for deep anxiety still
rested heavily upon her mind. Yet she welcomed her dark-browed uncle
with the kindest words.
“How glad I am,” she said, “that my husband is here to help my kinsfolk
in this their time of need! I know right well, that, with him to lead,
you shall win. But, dear uncle, remember, when you are in the battle,
that we have always loved you, and that Siegfried has done many
kindnesses to the Burgundians; and, if any danger threaten him, turn
it aside, I pray you, for Kriemhild’s sake. I know that I merit Queen
Brunhild’s anger, because of the sharp words I lately spoke to her; but
let not my husband suffer blame for that which is my fault alone.”
“Kriemhild,” answered Hagen, “no one shall suffer blame,--neither
Siegfried nor yourself. We are all forgetful, and sometimes speak hasty
words; but that which we say in angry thoughtlessness should not be
cherished up against us. There is no one who thinks more highly of
Siegfried than I, and there is nothing I would not do to serve him.”
“I should not fear for him,” said she, “if he were not so bold and
reckless. When he is in the battle, he never thinks of his own safety.
And I tremble lest at some time he may dare too much, and meet his
death. If you knew every thing, as I do, you would fear for him too.”
“What is it?” asked Hagen, trying to hide his eagerness,--“what is it
that gives you cause for fear? Tell me all about it, and then I will
know the better how to shield him from danger. I will lay down my life
for his sake.”
Then Kriemhild, trusting in her uncle’s word, and forgetful of every
caution, told him the secret of the dragon’s blood, and of Siegfried’s
strange bath, and of the mischief-working lime-leaf.
“And now,” she added, “since I know that there is one spot which a
deadly weapon might reach, I am in constant fear that the spear of
an enemy may, perchance, strike him there. Is there not some way of
shielding that spot?”
“There is,” answered Hagen. “Make some mark, or put some sign, upon his
coat, that I may know where that spot is. And, when the battle rages, I
will ride close behind him, and ward off every threatened stroke.”
And Kriemhild joyfully promised that she would at once embroider a
silken lime-leaf on the hero’s coat, just over the fatal spot. And
Hagen, well pleased, bade her farewell, and went away.
Without delay the chief sought the weak-minded Gunther, and to him he
related all that the trustful Kriemhild had told him. And, until the
midnight hour, the two plotters sat in the king’s bed-chamber, and laid
their cunning plans. Both thought it best, now they had learned the
fatal secret, to give up the sham march against the North-kings, and to
seek by other and easier means to lure Siegfried to his death.
“The chiefs will be much displeased,” said Gunther. “For all will come,
ready to march at the rising of the sun. What shall we do to please
them, and make them more ready to change their plans?”
Hagen thought a moment, and then the grim smile that was wont to break
the dark lines of his face when he was pleased spread over his features.
“We will have a grand hunt in the Odenwald to-morrow,” he hoarsely
whispered.
Adventure XIX. How They Hunted in the Odenwald.
Next morning, at earliest daybreak, while yet the stars were bright, and
the trees hung heavy with dew-drops, and the clouds were light and high,
King Siegfried stood with his warriors before the castle-gate. They
waited but for the sunrise, and a word from Gunther the king, to ride
forth over dale and woodland, and through forest and brake and field, to
meet, as they believed, the hosts of the North-land kings. And Siegfried
moved among them, calm-faced and bright as a war-god, upon the radiant
Greyfell. And men said, long years afterward, that never had the shining
hero seemed so glorious to their sight. Within the spacious courtyard a
thousand Burgundian braves stood waiting, too, for the signal, and the
king’s word of command. And at their head stood Hagen, dark as a cloud
in summer, guilefully hiding his vile plots, and giving out orders for
the marching. There, too, were honest Gernot, fearless and upright, and
Giselher, true as gold; and neither of them dreamed of evil, or of the
dark deed that day was doomed to see. Close by the gate was Ortwin,
bearing aloft the blood-red dragon-banner, which the Burgundians were
wont to carry in honor of Siegfried’s famous fight with Fafnir. And
there was Dankwart, also, ever ready to boast when no danger threatened,
and ever willing to do chief Hagen’s bidding. And next came Volker the
Fiddler good, with the famed sword Fiddle-bow by him, on which, it
is said, he could make the sweetest music while fighting his foes in
battle.
At length the sun began to peep over the eastern hills, and his beams
fell upon the castle-walls, and shot away through the trees, and over
the meadows, and made the dewdrops glisten like myriads of diamonds
among the dripping leaves and blossoms. And a glad shout went up from
the throats of the waiting heroes; for they thought that the looked-for
moment had come, and the march would soon begin. And the shout was
echoed from walls to turrets, and from turrets to trees, and from trees
to hills, and from the hills to the vaulted sky above. And nothing was
wanting now but King Gunther’s word of command.
Suddenly, far down the street, the sound of a bugle was heard, and then
of the swift clattering of horses’ hoofs coming up the hill towards the
castle.
“Who are they who come thus to join us at the last moment?” asked Hagen
of the watchman above the gate.
“They are strangers,” answered the watchman; “and they carry a
peace-flag.”
In a few moments the strange horsemen dashed up, and halted some
distance from the castle-gate, where Siegfried and his heroes stood.
“Who are you? and what is your errand?” cried Hagen, in the king’s name.
They answered that they were heralds from the North-land kings, sent
quickly to correct the message of the day before; for their liege
lords, Leudiger and Leudigast, they said, had given up warring against
Burgundy, and had gone back to their homes. And they had sent humbly to
ask the Rhineland kings to forget the rash threats which they had made,
and to allow them to swear fealty to Gunther, and henceforth to be his
humble vassals, if only they might be forgiven.
“Right cheerfully do we forgive them!” cried Gunther, not waiting to
consult with his wise men. “And our forgiveness shall be so full, that
we shall ask neither fealty nor tribute from them.”
Then he turned to Siegfried, and said, “You hear, friend Siegfried, how
this troublesome matter has been happily ended. Accept our thanks, we
pray you, for your proffered help; for, without it, it might have gone
but roughly with us in a second war with the Northland kings. But now
you are free to do what pleases you. If, as you said yesterday, you
would fain return to Nibelungen Land, you may send your warriors on the
way to-day, for they are already equipped for the journey. But abide you
with us another day, and to-morrow we will bid you God-speed, and you
may easily overtake your Nibelungen friends ere they have reached our
own boundaries.”
Siegfried was not well pleased to give up an undertaking scarce begun,
and still less could he understand why the king should be so ready to
forgive the affront which the North-land kings had offered him. And
he was not slow in reading the look of shame and guilt that lurked in
Gunther’s face, or the smile of jealous hate that Hagen could no longer
hide. Yet no word of displeasure spoke he, nor seemed he to understand
that any mischief was brewing; for he feared neither force nor guile.
So he bade his Nibelungens to begin their homeward march, saying that he
and Kriemhild, and the ladies of her train, would follow swiftly on the
morrow.
“Since it is your last day with us,” said Gunther, grown cunning through
Hagen’s teaching, “what say you, dear Siegfried, to a hunt in Odin’s
Wood?”
“Right glad will I be to join you in such sport,” answered Siegfried.
“I will change my war-coat for a hunting-suit, and be ready within an
hour.”
Then Siegfried went to his apartments, and doffed his steel-clad armor,
and searched in vain through his wardrobe for his favorite hunting-suit.
But it was nowhere to be found; and he was fain to put on the rich
embroidered coat which he sometimes wore in battle, instead of a
coat-of-mail. And he did not see the white lime-leaf that Kriemhild with
anxious care had worked in silk upon it. Then he sought the queen, and
told her of the unlooked-for change of plans, and how, on the morrow,
they would ride towards Nibelungen Land; but to-day he said he had
promised Gunther to hunt with him in the Odenwald.
But Kriemhild, to his great surprise, begged him not to leave her, even
to hunt in the Odenwald. For she had begun to fear that she had made a
great mistake in telling Hagen the story of the lime-leaf; and yet she
could not explain to Siegfried the true cause of her uneasiness.
“Oh, do not join in the hunt!” she cried. “Something tells me that
danger lurks hidden in the wood. Stay in the castle with me, and help me
put things in readiness for our journey homewards to-morrow. Last night
I had another dream. I thought that Odin’s birds, Hugin and Munin, sat
on a tree before me. And Hugin flapped his wings, and said, ‘What more
vile than a false friend? What more to be feared than a secret foe?
Harder than stone is his unfeeling heart; sharper than the adder’s
poison-fangs are his words; a snake in the grass is he!’ Then Munin
flapped his wings too, but said nothing. And I awoke, and thought at
once of the sunbright Balder, slain through Loki’s vile deceit. And, as
I thought upon his sad death, a withered leaf came fluttering through
the casement, and fell upon my couch. Sad signs and tokens are these, my
husband; and much grief, I fear, they foretell.”
But Siegfried was deaf to her words of warning, and he laughed at the
foolish dream. Then he bade her farewell till even-tide, and hastened to
join the party of huntsmen who waited for him impatiently at the gate.
When the party reached the Odenwald, they separated; each man taking his
own course, and following his own game. Siegfried, with but one trusty
huntsman and his own fleet-footed hound, sought at once the wildest and
thickest part of the wood. And great was the slaughter he made among the
fierce beasts of the forest; for nothing that was worthy of notice could
hide from his sight, or escape him. From his lair in a thorny thicket, a
huge wild boar sprang up; and with glaring red eyes, and mouth foaming,
and tusks gnashing with rage, he charged fiercely upon the hero. But,
with one skilful stroke from his great spear, Siegfried laid the beast
dead on the heather. Next he met a tawny lion, couched ready to spring
upon him; but, drawing quickly his heavy bow, he sent a quivering arrow
through the animal’s heart. Then, one after another, he slew a buffalo,
four bisons, a mighty elk with branching horns, and many deers and stags
and savage beasts.
At one time the hound drove from its hiding-place another wild boar,
much greater than the first, and far more fierce. Quickly Siegfried
dismounted from his horse, and met the grizzly creature as it rushed
with raving fury towards him. The sword of the hero cleft the beast in
twain, and its bloody parts lay lifeless on the ground. Then Siegfried’s
huntsman, in gay mood, said, “My lord, would it not be better to rest a
while! If you keep on slaughtering at this rate, there will soon be no
game left in Odenwald.”
Siegfried laughed heartily at the merry words, and at once called in
his hound, saying, “You are right! We will hunt no more until our good
friends have joined us.”
Soon afterward the call of a bugle was heard; and Gunther and Hagen and
Dankwart and Ortwin, with their huntsmen and hounds, came riding up.
“What luck have you had, my friends?” asked Siegfried.
Then Hagen told what game they had taken,--a deer, a young bear, and two
small wild boars. But, when they learned what Siegfried had done, the
old chief’s face grew dark, and he knit his eyebrows, and bit his lips
in jealous hate: for four knights, ten huntsmen, and four and twenty
hounds, had beaten every bush, and followed every trail; and yet the
Nibelungen king, with but one follower and one hound, had slain ten
times as much game as they.
While they stood talking over the successes of the day, the sound of a
horn was heard, calling the sportsmen together for the mid-day meal; and
knights and huntsmen turned their steeds, and rode slowly towards the
trysting-place. Suddenly a huge bear, roused by the noise of baying
hounds and tramping feet, crossed their pathway.
“Ah!” cried Siegfried, “there goes our friend Bruin, just in time to
give us a bit of fun, and some needed sport at dinner. He shall go with
us, and be our guest!”
With these words he loosed his hound, and dashed swiftly forwards after
the beast. Through thick underbrush and tangled briers, and over fallen
trees, the frightened creature ran, until at last it reached a steep
hillside. There, in a rocky cleft, it stood at bay, and fought fiercely
for its life. When Siegfried came up, and saw that his hound dared not
take hold of the furious beast, he sprang from his horse, and seized
the bear in his own strong arms, and bound him safely with a stout cord.
Then he fastened an end of the cord to his saddle-bows, and remounted
his steed. And thus he rode through the forest to the place where the
dinner waited, dragging the unwilling bear behind him, while the dog
bounded gayly along by his side.
No nobler sight had ever been seen in that forest than that which
Gunther’s people saw that day. The Nibelungen king was dressed as well
became so great a hero. His suit was of the speckled lynx’s hide and
rich black silk, upon which were embroidered many strange devices,
with threads of gold. (But, alas! between the shoulders was the silken
lime-leaf that Queen Kriemhild’s busy fingers had wrought.) His cap was
of the blackest fur, brought from the frozen Siberian land. Over his
shoulder was thrown his well-filled quiver, made of lion’s skin; and in
his hands he carried his bow of mulberry,--a very beam in size, and so
strong that no man save himself could bend it. A golden hunting-horn was
at his side, and his sunbright shield lay on his saddle-bow; while his
mighty sword, the fire-edged Balmung, in its sheath glittering with
gemstones, hung from his jewelled belt.
The men who stood around chief Hagen, and who saw the hero coming thus
god-like through the greenwood, admired and trembled; and Dankwart
whispered a word of caution to his dark-browed brother. But the old
chief’s face grew gloomier than before; and he scowled fiercely upon the
faint-hearted Dankwart, as he hoarsely whispered in return,--
“What though he be Odin himself, still will I dare! It is not I: it is
the Norns, who shape every man’s fate.”
When Siegfried reached the camp with his prize, the huntsmen shouted
with delight; and the hounds howled loudly, and shook their chains, and
tried hard to get at the shaggy beast. The king leaped to the ground,
and unloosed the cords which bound him; and at the same time the hounds
were unleashed, and set upon the angry, frightened creature. Hemmed in
on every side, the bear rushed blindly forwards, and leaped over the
fires, where the cooks were busy with the dinner. Pots and kettles were
knocked about in great confusion, and the scared cooks thrown sprawling
upon the ground; and many a dainty dish and savory mess was spoiled. The
bear fled fast down the forest road, followed by the baying hounds and
the fleet-footed warriors. But none dared shoot an arrow at him for fear
of killing the dogs; and it seemed as if he would surely escape, so
fast he ran away. Then Siegfried bounded forwards, swifter than a
deer, overtook the bear, and with one stroke of the sword gave him his
death-blow. And all who saw this feat of strength and quickness wondered
greatly, and felt that such a hero must indeed be without a peer.
When Gunther’s cooks had made the dinner ready, the company sat down on
the grass, and all partook of a merry meal; for the bracing air and the
morning’s sport had made sharp appetites. But, when they had eaten, they
were surprised to find that there was nothing to drink. Indeed, there
was neither wine nor water in the camp.
“How glad I am,” said Siegfried gayly, “that I am not a huntsman by
trade, if it is a huntsman’s way to go thus dry! Oh for a glass of wine,
or even a cup of cold spring-water, to quench my thirst!”
“We will make up for this oversight when we go back home,” said Gunther;
and his heart was black with falsehood. “The blame in this matter should
rest on Hagen, for it was he who was to look after the drinkables.”
“My lord,” said Hagen, “I fell into a mistake by thinking that we would
dine, not here, but at the Spessart Springs; and thither I sent the
wine.”
“And is there no water near?” asked Siegfried.
“Yes,” answered Hagen. “There is a cool, shady spring not far from
here, where the water gushes in a clear, cold stream from beneath a
linden-tree. Do but forgive me for the lack of wine, and I will lead you
to it. It is a rare spring, and the water is almost as good as wine.”
“Better than wine for me!” cried Siegfried. And he asked to be shown to
the spring at once.
Hagen arose, and pointed to a tree not far away, beneath whose spreading
branches Siegfried could see the water sparkling in the sunlight.
“Men have told me,” said the chief, “that the Nibelungen king is very
fleet of foot, and that no one has ever outstripped him in the race.
Time was, when King Gunther and myself were spoken of as very swift
runners; and, though we are now growing old, I fancy that many young men
would, even now, fail to keep pace with us. Suppose we try a race to the
spring, and see which of the three can win.”
“Agreed!” cried Siegfried. “We will run; and, if I am beaten, I will
kneel down in the grass to him who wins. I will give the odds in your
favor too; for I will carry with me my spear, and my shield, and my
helmet and sword, and all the trappings of the chase, while you may doff
from your shoulders whatever might hinder your speed.”
So Gunther and Hagen laid aside all their arms, and put off their
heavy clothing; but Siegfried took up his bow and quiver, and his heavy
shield, and his beamlike spear. Then the word was given, and all three
ran with wondrous speed. Gunther and his chief flew over the grass as
light-footed as two wild panthers: but Siegfried sped swift as an arrow
shot from the hand of a skilful bowman. He reached the spring when yet
the others were not half way to it. He laid his spear and sword, and
bow and quiver of arrows, upon the ground, and leaned his heavy shield
against the linden-tree; and then he waited courteously for King Gunther
to come up, for his knightly honor would not allow him to drink until
his host had quenched his thirst.
Gunther, when he reached the spring, stooped over, and drank heartily
of the cool, refreshing water; and, after he had risen, Siegfried knelt
upon the grass at the edge of the pool to quaff from the same gushing
fountain. Stealthily then, and with quickness, did chief Hagen hide his
huge bow and his quiver, and his good sword Balmung, and, seizing the
hero’s spear, he lifted it in air, and with too steady aim struck the
silken lime-leaf that the loving Kriemhild had embroidered. Never in all
the wide mid-world was known a deed more cowardly, never a baser act.
The hero was pierced with his own weapon by one he had deemed his
friend. His blood gushed forth in torrents, and dyed the green grass
red, and discolored the sparkling water, and even filled the face and
eyes of vile Hagen.
Yet, in the hour of death, King Siegfried showed how noble was his soul,
how great his strength of will. Up he rose from his bended knees, and
fiercely glanced around. Then, had not the evil-eyed chief, who never
before had shunned a foe, fled with fleet-footed fear, quick vengeance
would have overtaken him. In vain did the dying king look for his bow
and his trusty sword: too safely had they been hidden. Then, though
death was fast dimming his eyes, he seized his heavy shield, and sprang
after the flying Hagen. Swift as the wind he followed him, quickly he
overtook him. With his last strength he felled the vile wretch to the
ground, and beat him with the shield, until the heavy plates of brass
and steel were broken, and the jewels which adorned it were scattered
among the grass. The sound of the heavy blows was heard far through the
forest; and, had the hero’s strength held out, Hagen would have had his
reward.[EN#32] But Siegfried, weak and pale from the loss of blood, now
staggered, and fell among the trampled flowers of the wood.