Part 28

Yet back unto friends and kinsmen unwounded Iring returned; And so soon as the Lady Kriemhild the wondrous tidings learned How against Hagen of Troneg her champion had borne him in fight, For this that Daughter of Princes poured forth her thanks to the knight: "Now God reward thee, Iring, thou thane renowned and bold! To mine heart hast thou brought comfort, and made me joyful-souled. Lo, I see on the battle-harness of Hagen a bloody stain!" And for joy took Kriemhild the buckler herself from the hand of the thane. "Small cause wilt thou have to thank him," cried Hagen in fierce disdain: "Let but thy valorous champion essay the deed again; If alive he win back ever, a hero indeed shall he be; And as for the wound he hath dealt me, small joy shall it be unto thee! For the little scratch I have gotten that mine harness reddeneth, It hath but enkindled my fury unto many a warrior's death: Against the liegeman of Hawart mine anger it doth but whet. Small scathe thy champion Iring hath done unto Hagen yet!"

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For a space in the breeze fresh-blowing stood Iring of Danish land: He cooled his limbs in his harness, he loosed his helmet-band. All round him the folk stood praising his might and his chivalry, And the heart of the Lord of the Marches thereat beat proud and high. Then once again spake Iring: "Good friends, I pray you go And bring new arms: I am purposed again to essay yon foe, If I haply may still the boaster, and abase the arrogant head." Sore hacked was his shield, but a better they gave him in its stead.

Soon stood the knight full-armoured in stronger warrior-gear: He grasped in his battle-fury a stubborn-shafted spear, And he set his face unto Hagen to defy him to fight once more; Then leapt to meet him the hatred of that murder-wolf of war. For Hagen the thane would wait not for the coming of Iring's feet, But hurling javelins before him he sprang his foe to meet Down all the length of the stairway: his fury was passing great. Ah, little did Iring's prowess avail in the hour of fate! As the swords hewed through the bucklers, it was as a fierce wind blew The sparks of a burning forest. Then Hawart's liegeman true Gat from the sword of Hagen a wound that bit to the brain Crashing through buckler and helmet--he was never whole again. When ware was the good knight Iring of the bite of the sword-edge keen, Higher he swung his buckler his rifted helm to screen. He weened that in that grim sword-gash he had gotten scathe enow; But Gunther's liegeman dealt him a yet more deadly blow: For Hagen caught at a javelin that lay at his feet on the ground; At the Daneland hero he hurled it, and his shieldless face it found, And lo, the quivering spear-shaft stood out from his head behind. From the hand of Hagen the mighty a grim end did he find. Back to the ranks of his people staggered the fainting Dane; But ere they could raise the helmet from the piercèd head of the thane, They must needs draw out the spear-shaft:--death's hand upon him lay, And his friends brake forth into weeping: good cause to weep had they!

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Then Kriemhild, Daughter of Princes, to the stricken man drew nigh, And she cried over Iring the stalwart an exceeding bitter cry; Over his wounds sore wept she: her heart was wrung with grief. Then spake in his kinsmen's presence that battle-fearless chief: "Forbear thy lamentation, O Lady royal-born. What now availeth thy weeping? My life from my limbs is torn: Out through the wounds I have gotten it fleeteth fast away. Death putteth an end to my service of Etzel and thee this day." Unto Dane he turned and Thuringian, and bespake that warrior-band: "The gifts that the Queen hath proffered, take heed that no man's hand Be tempted to earn that guerdon of the shining gold and red; For if ye encounter Hagen, ye shall look on the place of the dead."

Bloodless-grey was his visage: the tokens of death showed plain On the brow of the valiant Iring. Their hearts were wrung with pain For Hawart's hero-vassal, brave heart for ever stilled! Then a sudden fury of battle the Danemark warriors thrilled. On charged they, Irnfried and Hawart: they leapt to the guarded door, And a thousand heroes followed. Then roar on shattering roar Rang round in crashing echoes unearthly wild and high. What hail of massy javelins did against the Burgundians fly!

Full on the viol-minstrel did Irnfried the dauntless run, But bitter scathe his daring from the hand of Volker won; For he dealt, that noble minstrel, the landgrave such a blow That it cleft through the firm-knit helmet--in sooth was he grim enow! Wounded to death, yet Irnfried smote one mighty stroke, And the sword through the rings of the hauberk on the breast of the minstrel broke, And over his mail fell flashing the links in a fiery rain:-- But now was he sped, and the landgrave fell, by the minstrel slain.

Man against man clashed Hagen and Hawart in grapple of fight; A tale might he tell of wonders who had looked upon that sight. {P. 284} Like lashing rain fell swordstrokes from either hero's hand, Till slain was the death-doomed Hawart by him of Burgundia-land. When Danefolk and Thuringians beheld how their lords were slain, Maddened afront of the palace yet grimmer battle-strain, As they struggled with mighty hand-strokes to win that portal through, And through many a shield and helmet did the flashing steel-edge hew.

"Give back from the door," cried Volker, "and let these enter in! Ha, but the prize that they look for not a man of them all shall win! One and all shall they perish--ay, and that full soon. With death shall they earn their guerdon, Queen Kriemhild's golden boon!" Into the hall of slaughter those men high-hearted pressed, But soon did many a warrior stoop to the earth his crest. Fast, fast by the lightning sword-strokes of its warders were they slain. Well fought the dauntless Gernot, well Giselher the thane. Into the great hall thronged they, a thousand men and four; Then flashed and flickered above them the dancing glaives of war, Till at last by the grim guests slaughtered one and all they lay. Well may bards sing the wonders of Burgundia's vengeance-day!

Then suddenly died the tumult, there was silence in that hall, Save the sound of the blood-streams pouring through the channels in the wall And rushing without down the rain-shutes, the blood of knightly foes Slain by the men of Rhineland with their swords' resistless blows. Then sat them down war-weary the sons of Burgundia-land: Dropped was the massy buckler and the sword from the red right hand. Yet standing before the doorway did the valiant minstrel stay, And watched, if haply a foeman would yet draw near for the fray.

Sorely the King lamented, and the Queen, with bitter cry; Sisters and wives were wailing in bereavement's agony. Ah, death, I ween, full surely against them an oath had sworn, For many a warrior's life-thread by the guests was yet to be shorn.

XXXVI. How the Queen bade set fire to the Hall

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"Unlace ye now your helmets," spake Hagen Troneg's lord. "I and my comrade Volker will again keep watch and ward; And if yon vassals of Etzel once more the onset essay, Straightway will I warn my masters with all the speed I may." Then loosed was the band of his helmet by many a warrior good; And they sat them down on the corpses that lay there in their blood, Which had come by the hands Burgundian to their death, and cumbered the floor, The while with bitter hatred the Hunfolk scowled at the door.

Ere the evening shadows had fallen, the King by hest and prayer, With Kriemhild the Queen, had persuaded that with hope of fortune fair The Huns should essay the onset again: in huge array They stood, full twenty thousand in ordered ranks for the fray. Then a wilder battle-tempest against the King's guests swept. Dankwart, the brother of Hagen, the mighty warrior, leapt From beside his lords to the foemen to meet them afront of the hall. They deemed him verily death-doomed, yet scatheless he won through all. Long lasted that stubborn conflict till the shadows darkened down; And the guests still stood unflinching like heroes of renown Against the hosts of Etzel through that long summer day. Ha, what unnumbered heroes in death before them lay!

In the fair midsummer season was that mighty murder wrought, When Kriemhild for her heart's anguish revenge so dearly bought On her own nearest kinsfolk and on many guiltless men, By reason whereof King Etzel knew never joy again. (C) But so grim and great a murder had she purposed not at the first: Nay, in the strife's beginning one thought in her breast she nursed, {P. 286} That Hagen alone by her vengeance to a bloody end should come:-- But therein was the Foul Fiend working to fashion for all one doom.

The day was past: the heroes were now in evil strait. Weary and famished, it seemed them swift death were a better fate Than long to linger in torment of hunger and thirst and pain. Wherefore the knights high-hearted for a truce with their foes were fain. They asked that the King might meet them before the feast-hall door. Then the heroes with armour-soilure blackened, and red with gore, Strode forth of the hall, and amidst them stood the Princes three: But their haggard eyes found nowhere one glance of sympathy.

And now stand Etzel and Kriemhild that place of death before-- Theirs is the whole land, therefore waxeth their host evermore-- Then spake the King to the King's guests: "Say, what would ye of me? Haply for peace ye petition? Hardly this may be After the wrongs ye have done me, and your ruthless work of death. Ye shall not in any wise win it so long as I draw breath. My child whom ye have murdered, and all my friends laid low-- Look ye for peace and forgiveness for these? In sooth, not so!"

"Enforced," made answer Gunther, "were we by a grievous wrong. Within their lodging murdered were all mine henchman-throng, Murdered by thine own heroes!--whereby had I earned such meed? I came to thee trustful-hearted, I held thee a friend indeed!" Then spake of the Princes Burgundian the youngest, Giselher: "Ye warriors of King Etzel which be yet alive, give ear. What have ye against me, heroes? What have I done unto you, I, who to this land journeyed with loving heart and true?" "_Thy love!_" they replied: "our castles are filled by reason thereof With mourning, and all our country! We well could have spared thy love, Hadst thou never journeyed hither from Worms beyond the Rhine! The whole land lieth orphaned through thee and those brethren of thine!"

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Then in mighty indignation Gunther the hero cried: "Would ye suffer this deadly hatred even now to be laid aside In peace with the homeless warriors, for us and for you it were well. For no guilt of ours is the anger of Etzel the King so fell." The King to the guests gave answer: "Not yet made equal they are, Your sufferings and Etzel's--the bitter travail of war, The scathe and the deadly insult that ye have loaded on me-- For these no man of you living cometh forth into liberty!"

To the King made answer Gernot the stalwart and valorous: "At the least may God incline thee to do one grace unto us: Slay us indeed, the homeless; but let us forth unto you From this prison into the open: for your honour this should ye do. Whatsoever then may betide us, be it quickly over and done. Ye have hosts of men unwounded: if they dare one and all set on, They shall give to the battle-weary death and a soon-won rest. How long shall we knights linger thus grievously distressed?"

Now the warriors of King Etzel would lightly have done them the grace That the heroes forth of the feast-hall should come to the open space. But so soon as Kriemhild heard it, in anguish of wrath she cried Against it; and unto the homeless was this last boon denied. "Nay, noble knights," she pleaded, "the thing ye incline unto Ye never will grant, if ye hearken to faithful counsel and true, To let these murder-lusters set foot forth of the hall! If ye do it, many your kinsmen in the pit of death shall fall. If only three were living, my brethren, Uta's sons, And to free air of heaven came forth those mighty ones, To cool their scalding harness, ye were lost!--not lightly I warn; For verily braver heroes on earth were never born."

Spake Giselher the young Prince: "O fairest sister mine, In an evil hour did I trust thee, at whose word I passed over Rhine {P. 288} A bidden guest to thy country--nay rather to this sore strait! What have I done to the Hunfolk to earn me this evil fate? Unto thee have I kept troth ever; never I wronged thee in aught. Unto Etzel's palace riding I came with this one thought That to me thou wert loving-hearted, O sister cherished of me. Now show unto us thy mercy: ah, surely so it must be!"

"I show unto you no mercy: no mercy to me was shown! Unto me hath Hagen of Troneg foul wrong and ruthless done, And for this is there no atonement, so long as I yet have life; And for this must ye all pay forfeit!" So spake King Etzel's wife. "Yet--yet if Hagen only for hostage to me ye give, Not utterly will I deny you, I will haply let you live, Forasmuch as ye be my brethren; sons of my mother ye are: So will I commune of pardon with these my men of war."

"Now God in Heaven forbid it!" Gernot indignantly cried. "Though yet we numbered a thousand, we would all die side by side-- We who are yet thy kinsmen!--ere one man of us all Shall be rendered up for a hostage: that shame shall never befall." "So then we must needs all perish," did the young Prince Giselher say; "Yet none shall hinder our dying like knights in our war-array. If any be fain to fight us, ready here we stand. No friend I forsake, betraying the troth of my right hand!" Then spake the valiant Dankwart; in the word was his true heart shown: "Verily Hagen my brother standeth not here alone. We asked of them peace: their denial thereof shall work them woe! Yea, by my troth, to their sorrow they yet shall find it so."

Then spake that Daughter of Princes: "O heroes valiant and strong Go forward unto the stairway, and avenge us of our wrong; And to you will I aye be beholden, even as is meet and right, And the insolent outrage of Hagen will I to the full requite. {P. 289} Let none of all their warriors tarry without the door; And I will cause yon feast-hall to be fired at its corners four: So shall I have meet vengeance for all mine anguish of heart!" Swiftly the warriors of Etzel set them to play their part. Them that without were standing they drave back through the door With swords and with hail of javelins: loud rang the battle-roar. Yet in all that stress the princes and liegemen were sundered not: From loyal faith to each other never they swerved one jot.

Then the wife of Etzel commanded to set the hall aflame. Now on the heroes the torment of a fiery furnace came. The house was enwrapped in the leaping flames by a great wind blown. Never, I ween, such anguish by a leaguered host was known! Within were there voices crying: "Woe's me for this horror of pain! Better that dead we were lying in the storm of battle slain! God upon us have mercy!--how utterly are we lost! Grimly the Queen is wreaking her vengeance on all this host!" Cried a voice yet again through the hot reek: "Here must we meet our doom! Unto such a festal high-tide did the false King bid us come? Thirst in this flaming furnace so sore tormenteth me, That fainteth my life and faileth in this mine agony!"

Then shouted Hagen of Troneg: "O noble knights and good, Whoso by thirst is tormented, here let him drink of the blood. In heat thus fiercely scorching better than wine it is: In this our strait moreover may we find none better than this." Then a certain knight which heard him went unto one of the dead; He bowed him down to the death-gash, he loosed the helm from his head; He drank of the blood fresh-flowing, and deep and long he quaffed Of a cup theretofore untasted, and sweet to his lips was the draught. "God guerdon thee, Lord Hagen," the weary warrior cried, "For this good drink I have gotten, who took thy counsel for guide! Never hath cupbearer poured me more soul-refreshing wine. So long as I live am I bounden to thee for this rede of thine." {P. 290} Now when his fellows heard it, that counsel seemed them good, And behold, there was many another that likewise drank of the blood: Therefrom in the frames of the warriors was strength and life renewed; By many a wife on the morrow in the death of her lord was it rued.

From the roof great fragments flaming fell heavily all round; But their heads with the shields they warded, and dashed the brands to the ground. The rolling smoke and the scorching tormented them full sore: Never, I ween, unto heroes befell such pain before. Then again spake Hagen of Troneg: "Stand ye close to the wall: Suffer ye not the firebrands on your helmet-bands to fall, But beneath your feet do ye trample and quench in blood the flame. Unto an evil high-tide at Kriemhild's bidding we came!"

Amid such tribulation the night drew on to an end. And ever the valiant minstrel kept guard with Hagen his friend, Before the palace-portal on his shield-rim resting a hand, Aye watching against new onslaughts from the men of Etzel's land. (C) Much it advantaged the heroes that the hall was vaulted o'er: By reason thereof, in the morning there lived so many the more. Albeit on them at the windows more hotly the flame-tongues played, Unflinching did they withstand them as valour and honour bade.

Then spake the viol-minstrel: "Now go we into the hall. These Huns shall deem peradventure that their enemies one and all Be dead through the fiery torment wherewith we have been beset; But I ween there be some that in grapple of fight shall close with them yet." Then of the Princes Burgundian the youngest, Giselher, spake: "Lo now, a cold wind riseth: the day shall, I trow, soon break. May God in Heaven vouchsafe us that a happier day may dawn! To an ill high-tide by the bidding of my sister were we drawn!" Spake after a space another: "Now I discern the day. Then, seeing nought else remaineth, and for us there is but one way, E'en make you ready, my masters, as needeth to be done. At the least will we die with honour, seeing escape is none."

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Now thought, as he well might, Etzel that the guests by this were dead, Forspent with battle-travail and with flames encompassèd; Yet there six hundred warriors still dauntless stood at bay. No king on earth had ever better knights than they. Now the watchers that spied on the strangers full well by this were ware That many a guest was living, what grievous scathe soe'er And torment had been suffered by the kings and their warrior-band. They beheld in the blackened feast-hall a goodly company stand. Then one brought word unto Kriemhild that yet lived many a foe. "Nay," cried the Queen in amazement, "never can this be so-- Never, that one man living through such a fire could come! Nay, I must needs think rather that all have found one doom."

Full fain would Princes and liegemen yet have been spared to live, Had any been moved by mercy that boon at the last to give. There was none: they could find no daysman in all the Hunfolk's land: Therefore did they for their slaying avenge them with willing hand. A sudden greeting received they in the first of the morning-red, Even a furious onslaught, that the heroes were hardly bestead. With javelins flying before it rolled up that battle-flood; Yet ever the knights unquailing with ranks unbroken stood.

Now were the hosts of Etzel high-wrought and eager-souled, For they looked to win the guerdon of Kriemhild's lavished gold; And they burned to prove them loyal in fulfilling their King's command-- But for many an one doom waited, swift death was hard at hand. Of her gifts and her promises marvels now might the minstrel sing. She bade men bear upon bucklers the gold bright-glittering; And on all that desired and would take it freely did she bestow. Never was wealth so lavished to spur men against a foe.

So a mighty array of warriors all-armed to the door drew near. Then cried the viol-minstrel: "O yea, yet are we here! {P. 292} Never so gladly beheld I heroes come to the fight As these which have taken the treasure of the King to do us despite." Then many a stern voice shouted: "Ye heroes, come more nigh! Make ye an end of us quickly, seeing we needs must die! Here shall ye find none waiting save them whom death is to win!" Soon were the bucklers heavy with the spears that quivered therein.

What shall I more say?--hundreds twelve, with toil and strain Of mightiest sword-strokes battled to break through once and again; But with gaping wounds the defenders cooled their fiery mood. By none could their strife be parted: rushed in torrents the blood Out of the death-deep gashes: fast, fast men fell and died. Lamentation for dear friends perished shrieked up on every side. So fought they, till all those champions of Etzel the mighty fell, And nought was heard but the wailing of them that loved them well.

XXXVII. How the Margrave Rüdiger was slain

That morn had the homeless heroes like battling giants warred. And now came into the courtyard of the palace Gotlind's lord; And he saw what fearful havoc had been wrought unto Hun and to guest. Wept Rüdiger the true-hearted with sorrow-burdened breast. "Alas and alas," cried the hero, "that I live this day to see! And none can now put an ending to this calamity! Fain would I make reconcilement, but now no word of peace Will the King hear, seeing that ever doth the mischief done him increase." Then Rüdiger the noble sent unto Dietrich of Bern, If perchance some little relenting he might win from Etzel the stern. But the Lord of Bern sent answer: "The doom who now may stay? No man will King Etzel suffer to stand between him and the prey."

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