The Battle on the Wulpensand
Ludwig and Hartmut meanwhile had reached a green and thickly wooded
island called the Wulpensand, where they decided to make a camp and rest
them from their labors for a space. Often did Gudrun gaze sadly out
across the water, the tears streaming unheeded down her cheeks.
Some days had passed thus when about noon white sails were seen upon the
far horizon. Word was brought at once to Ludwig and Hartmut, and they
hastened to the shore. Soon they distinguished crosses on the sails and
supposed them to be pilgrim ships. But after a time, Ludwig said: "Yon
ships do gleam and sparkle as they were filled with shining stars--'tis
from helm and shield and spear tip! Up, warriors! Up and arm you to
receive them!"
Instantly the camp was in confusion. All flew to arms, and soon the
shore was lined with shouting warriors eager for battle. Ludwig's banner
floated out upon the breeze, and he shouted: "Now, by my faith! Our
former work was but child's play to what now lies before us! Stand fast,
bold knights, and richly will I reward you!"
Nearer and nearer came the hostile fleet bearing Hetel and Herwig and
Siegfried with all their men, till at last the two armies were within
reach of each other's spears. Then there arose such a clashing and
splintering of javelins and arrows that the noise of the waves was
completely drowned. Hastily Hetel's men clambered into their boats and
rowed ashore. Wate sprang into the water up to his breast and made his
way to land, Hetel, Herwig, Ortwin, Frute and their brave men following;
and soon the sea far out was red with blood from innumerable wounds.
Ludwig recognized Wate and hurled his spear at the mighty champion, but
he caught it fairly on his shield and it broke, the splinters flying far
and wide. As he gained the shore, he dealt King Ludwig a blow with his
sword that sent him reeling backward; and there with King Hetel's people
won to land and the fight began in earnest.
Till nightfall the battle raged, when neither side had prevailed. Then
the weary heroes sought a few hours' repose, but at dawn the battle
trumpets once more sounded and the strife began anew. Backward and
forward rolled the tide of battle, pausing now and then, only to burst
out more fiercely than before. At last the two Kings, Hetel and Ludwig,
met. Hetel fought like a lion robbed of its young, and his sword
whistled frightfully through the air as the blows fell fast and furious
on his adversary's helm and shield. But Ludwig too was a mighty
champion, grown old in battle: at last he smote King Hetel so powerfully
that he fell dead before him. At this a wild shout went up from the
Normans, and the news soon spread to Gudrun's tent, whereupon the poor
maiden with a cry of anguish sank unconscious to the ground.
Wate fought like an infuriated wild beast, and many of the enemy fell
before his sword; but in spite of all their efforts they could gain no
real advantage, and darkness fell once more without Herwig's having
succeeded in rescuing his bride. Watch-fires were lit, and the two
armies were so close to each other that the gleam of their armor could
be plainly seen.
That evening Ludwig took counsel with Hartmut in his tent. He feared
Wate's strength and deemed it best to retire under cover of night, while
the drums and war-trumpets should sound loudly as if in joyous
anticipation of the morrow's conflict and their confidence of victory,
and thereby drown all sound of preparation. This plan was forthwith
adopted; the ships were hurriedly laden and made ready to depart, and
the fair captives led thither after having been warned as they valued
their lives to make no outcry. Ludwig's forces had become so diminished
that he was forced to leave many of his ships behind for lack of men to
man them. His stratagem was successful, however; the Normans put safely
out to sea in the darkness, and a strong breeze bore them swiftly away.
In the morning a dense mist enveloped land and sea, but Wate turned to
continue the battle and at the sound of his horn the knights sprang once
more to arms. Just then the sun broke through the clouds, and lo! the
whole country stretched bare before their bewildered gaze--the enemy had
vanished! The ground was strewn with corpses, broken weapons, and torn
banners, while near the shore some empty ships lay tossing on the waves.
At this, such a fury of rage seized Wate that few dared approach him.
Ortwin cried: "Let us pursue them with all speed!"
But Frute, who had been watching the wind, replied: "'Twere useless now,
my lord. Full thirty miles have they the start of us, nor with our
remnant of an army may we venture a pursuit."
"Then will we take vengeance on the living through the dead!" shouted
grim Irolt. "Unburied shall they lie to feed the ravens!"
But Herwig reproved him, saying: "Nay, comrade, that must never be!
Rather let us dig ample graves and bury friend and foe together."
"Dead foes no longer hatred claim;
Grudge not the dead true hero's fame!"
This was done, and after all the slain had been consigned to earth, with
heavy hearts the heroes once more embarked and set sail for home.
Soon Queen Hilda's castle rose before them from the sea, whereat groans
of anguish burst from many a mail-clad breast. Ortwin cried: "Alas! how
can I appear before my mother? Not only have we failed to deliver
Gudrun, but now my father lies beneath the stones of Wulpensand!"
Herwig too shrank from breaking the evil tidings to Queen Hilda, nor
were any of their comrades willing to undertake the task. But when they
had reached the shore Wate gruffly said: "It is useless to attempt to
conceal the truth from the Queen," and himself rode to the castle,
looking so grim and forbidding that all who beheld him shrank in terror.
But Hilda, who had seen him coming and had also marked the sadly
diminished fleet upon the strand, hastened anxiously to meet him and
asked him in trembling accents for her lord.
"I will not deceive thee, lady," said the hero, his rough features
clouded with grief; "the King is slain, and with him the greater part of
our comrades"; and therewith he told her of the battle on the island.
Quickly the news spread, and from the castle arose loud wailing and
sounds of woe, to which all the heroes added their lamentations. The
whole court was plunged into grief, and Wate alone retained his
firmness.
"Peace--peace--my friends! No plaints nor sighs will ever open the
King's grave or bring back Gudrun to us. With the handful of warriors
that are left us, we can do nothing now, 'tis true, but ere-long a
younger generation will be of age to bear arms, and then our day of
reckoning will come!"