Part 8
Günther answered that it had been forced upon them, while Giselher, turning to the Huns, cried out:
“What charge against me do ye bring? Did I not come hither in all peace and friendship to your land?”
The knights replied: “Already hath such friendship cost us dear! Full many a widowed wife and orphaned child have bitter cause to wish thou ne’er hadst left the Rhine!”
Again Günther sought to make peace; but Etzel would hear naught thereof. “Your griefs are not as mine,” he said, “for to my loss is added shame; nor may it be effaced save with your blood. Wherefore, I say, not one of you shall depart hence with his life!”
Then said the youthful Giselher: “O beauteous sister mine, I little treachery feared when thou Didst bid me cross the Rhine.
“To thee I’ve ever faithful been, Nor grief nor sorrow wrought, Believing that thou heldst me dear, To bring thee joy I sought. Nor can I think thou’lt wish me ill; Be still my sister true! With kindly judgment look on us, Sure less thou canst not do.”
Once more a ray of love warmed Kriemhild’s sorely wounded heart, and she replied:
“Now if Sir Hagen you’ll agree Into my hands to give, Then will I not refuse to grant That ye three all shall live; Since ye in truth my brethren are And from one mother spring, Of further mercy I’ll consult With those about the King.”
“Now, Heaven forbid!” cried Gernot. “Far rather death than such disloyalty!”
And Giselher said: “Never yet did I break faith with comrade, nor will I fail to-day in knightly duty.”
Thus was the last spark of affection extinguished in Kriemhild’s bosom. She no longer felt pity even for her own kin, since they had refused to deliver over to her the slayer of her Siegfried and her child. Summoning the Huns, she bade them fire the palace on all sides.
Now was it in truth a night of terror for the Burgundians. Blazing shafts flew on to the roof, and soon it was wrapped in flame. Thick smoke and fiery vapors filled the hall, and the heroes suffered tortures. Gladly would they have welcomed a swift death in battle. Many called on God to pity their distress, and one knight cried out woefully for a drop of water. Hagen shouted: “Keep to the walls, my comrades, and raise your shields aloft!”
And still that dauntless hero, with the brave Volker, kept unceasing watch before the door. At daybreak Volker said to Hagen: “Let us within, and then perchance the watchful Huns will think we have perished.”
And so in truth did Etzel and Queen Kriemhild now believe. Yet still six hundred of them were alive. When this news was brought to Kriemhild she caused a great store of gold to be brought and divided among the Huns, with which to spur their valor. Thereupon a thousand of the boldest rushed to the assault; but though many of the Burgundians too were slain, not one of Kriemhild’s warriors came forth from that dread hall of death to claim his gold.
_Chapter XXXI_
_The Margrave Rüdiger_
Soon thereafter came Sir Rüdiger, and when he beheld the smoking, roofless palace, so filled with sorrow was his noble heart at all the evil wrought and yet to come, that tears fell from his eyes and trickled down his long gray beard. Hoping that something might yet be done to bring about a reconciliation, he sent a message to Dietrich of Bern, saying: “Let us go together unto the King; perchance we may prevail upon him to forego his wrath.”
But Dietrich, who also deeply lamented what had befallen, sent back word that it was useless, for Etzel would not hear of peace on any terms, nor might any venture now to speak thereof to him. As Rüdiger stood leaning on his sword, his mournful gaze fixed upon the Queen, a Hunnish knight observed him and said scornfully to Kriemhild: “See, yonder stands Sir Rüdiger! Etzel hath shown favor to him and richly dowered him with lands and gold, yet hath he not struck a blow in all this strife! Renowned is he for skill and valor. Methinks such fame can be of little worth since we have not seen him display either here.”
Rüdiger overheard these words and was seized with a mighty wrath thereat. Clinching his fist he smote the insolent scoffer with such giant force that he dropped lifeless at his feet.
At that same moment Etzel appeared in the courtyard. “How now, Sir Knight?” he cried, “that is an evil deed of thine. Are there not dead enough, forsooth, that thou shouldst seek to add to them?”
The Queen too was about to reproach him bitterly, when suddenly she bethought her of the vow Rüdiger made to her when he came to Worms to urge King Etzel’s suit. “Bethink thee of thy oath, Sir Rüdiger,” she cried, solemnly. “Didst thou not swear to serve me loyally and faithfully to avenge all my wrongs?”
“That did I truly, most noble lady,” replied Rüdiger, “nor would I fail to risk my life in thy cause. But ’tis my soul that I should lose were I to be at strife with these thy guests, for ’twas as friends I brought them hither to thy court!”
Yet still the Queen demanded vengeance on her foes, and Etzel thereto joined his prayers, till Rüdiger in bitter anguish cried:
“Oh, woe is me, forsaken one, That ever I was born! Oh, woe’s the day, that I must be Of all my honor shorn! Of truth and gentleness of mind Which God to me did give. Oh, God! that I might only die! I fain would cease to live.
“Whichever duty I avoid, The other to fulfil, I’m counted dastardly and base, A worker-out of ill; Yet leave I both of them undone, I with the world have strife. May He vouchsafe to counsel me, Who first did give me life!”
He besought the King to take back all the lands and honors that he held in fee, and let him retire with his followers to his castle, a poor man, rather than force him to attack the friends whom he had welcomed in all love and loyalty, who had slept beneath his roof, and to one of whom indeed his daughter was betrothed. But he pleaded in vain, for Kriemhild firmly held him to his word, while the King promised him still greater riches and honor if he would rid him of his foes.
At last Rüdiger yielded. He agreed to keep his oath and give his life in payment for the kindnesses he had received from his sovereigns; he commended his wife and daughter to their care, then sorrowfully sought his followers and bade them arm for battle with the Burgundians.
When Volker saw the band of knights approaching, his heart sank, but Giselher cried joyfully: “Well for us all was it that I was betrothed to Rüdiger’s daughter, for now our gallant friend comes to bring us peace!”
“Nay, my lord! he who brings peace comes not in this array,” replied Volker.
Pausing before the palace, Rüdiger placed his shield upon the ground, but no friendly greeting did he pay the Burgundians as was his wont. In lieu thereof he renounced his loyalty to them and challenged them to combat. Great was their distress thus to be forced to strife with friends after struggling against so many foes; and Günther cried: “Now Heaven forbid, Sir Knight, that thou shouldst do our friendship such wrong!”
“There is no help for it, alas!” replied Rüdiger, “since the Queen demands of me fulfilment of a vow!”
Then said Gernot: “This sword was thy gift to me, most noble Rüdiger, when thou didst welcome us beneath thy roof; never hath it failed me in time of need, and shall I turn it now against thee, the giver, to bring thy noble wife to widowhood?”
“Would to God that I indeed were dead!” cried Rüdiger. “If thou go safe from hence, full well I know thou wilt bring comfort to my wife and daughter.”
Then commending himself to God, he lifted his shield and was about to rush into the hall, when Hagen shouted to him from the stairway: “Behold, Sir Rüdiger, my sorry plight! This shield, which thy wife gave me in happier hours, hath been so hacked and hewed by hostile Huns that no longer may it serve for my defence. Had I another such as that which thou dost bear, I would go undismayed again to battle!”
Loath as was Rüdiger to give away his own shield under the Queen’s eyes and thereby incur her wrath, his noble heart could not withstand his friend’s appeal, and he bestowed it on Hagen, saying: “Take it, Sir Knight, and mayst thou bear it back to Burgundy in memory of me!”
That Rüdiger so courteously, Did give away his shield, Filled many an eye with gentle tears, And to their hearts appealed. It was his last and dearest gift; No more could bold knight crave In token of the courtesy Of Rüdiger the brave.
However grim Sir Hagen was, Or ill-disposed in mind, The generous gift which Rüdiger So noble and so kind, When near his end had given him, His stubborn heart subdued; While many a lofty knight did sigh, As that brave act he viewed.
Said Hagen: “May the Lord of Heaven Sir Rüdiger protect! When he shall die, his like on earth We may no more expect: For he to homeless, shieldless knight His own defence did give; May God vouchsafe that when no more, His virtues still shall live!”
Then he added: “As for thyself, brave Rüdiger, though thou shouldst slay us every one, yet never shall this sword be raised against thy life.” And this stout Volker also swore.
Seizing his arms, Rüdiger rushed upon the Burgundians and the strife began once more. Hagen and Volker stood aside, nor did Giselher seek to meet his sword; but deep were the wounds it dealt, and many the knights that fell before it. Rüdiger’s liegemen followed him, and soon the hall was filled with the din of battle.
When Gernot saw the terrible havoc Rüdiger’s sword wrought among the Burgundians, he shouted: “I pray thee, cease, Sir Rüdiger! Now must I seek vengeance for my true liegemen thou hast slain and thereby turn thy gift against thyself!”
Therewith they cut their way through the press of battle till they stood face to face. Fast fell the strokes of sword on shield and helm, till Rüdiger, whirling his sword aloft, smote Gernot; and as Gernot received his death wound he grasped his sword with both hands and dealt Rüdiger the mightiest blow that ever he had struck. Both heroes fell, slain at the same moment by each other’s hands.
When Hagen saw this, his wrath was terrible to behold, and he swore Rüdiger’s men should pay dearly therefor, while loud were the lamentations of the princes for the death of their brother. Mad with fury now, they rushed upon the foe, nor was it long ere the last man lay dead.
Now once more there was silence, and those who were left of the Burgundians laid aside their arms to rest them after the fierce struggle. Meanwhile Etzel and Kriemhild waited without, expecting each moment to see Rüdiger come forth with word that the Burgundians were slain. But when all grew still again she began to doubt that hero, and cried aloud that he had deceived her and made peace with her foes. Whereat Volker shouted wrathfully: “If I dared to give the lie to lady such as thou, O Queen, I would right willingly! So loyally hath Rüdiger kept faith with thee that here he lieth dead with all his knights. An thou art loath to trust my word, then may thine own eyes banish doubt.”
Therewith the body was borne out by four knights and laid upon the stairs. When Etzel beheld this, he cried aloud with grief, while from all the Huns arose such wails and plaints of woe that they spread far beyond the court, and tower and hall reëchoed with the cries.
_Chapter XXXII_
_Hildebrand and Dietrich_
One of Dietrich’s knights heard the doleful sound and hastened to his master, crying: “I pray thee, lord, give ear! Etzelburg gives forth such cries of woe and lamentation as never yet have I heard. I fear the Burgundians have slain the King or Kriemhild!”
The knights all sprang to their feet, with swords aloft, but Dietrich said: “Draw not your swords, my faithful liegemen, nor judge too rashly those of Burgundy, for I have peace with them. Stern necessity has compelled them to do much that they have done.”
Then stepped forth Wolfhart, the boldest and fiercest of the knights. In former days he had met Hagen in battle and sorely wounded him, and now he sought leave to go and learn what had befallen. This would not Dietrich grant, however, for he feared lest the fiery Wolfhart should affront the Burgundians with too hasty words. He despatched Helferich instead, who soon returned with the grievous news of Rüdiger’s death. Horror-stricken, Dietrich cried: “God forbid that such report should be true! Sir Rüdiger always held yon heroes dear in his regard, as well I know. How then could he have earned such reward of them?”
Wolfhart shouted furiously: “Now, by my faith, an they have slain that chief who hath done us many a service, they shall die,--aye, every man!”
Thereupon Dietrich bade the ancient Hildebrand go to the Burgundians and learn more nearly of the matter, while overcome with grief he sat by the window to wait his return. As Hildebrand was about to depart, Wolfhart cried: “Nay, go not thus unarmed, good master, or perchance yon haughty chiefs will send thee back with insult. But an they see thou canst defend thyself, then they will spare thee such attack.”
So the old hero donned mail and helm, and taking his sword and shield, rode forth. But the knights all followed, likewise fully armed; and when he asked the cause thereof, they said they would not that he came to harm. Meanwhile the Burgundians had borne the body of Rüdiger back within the hall; and as Volker spied Hildebrand and the knights, he warned his comrades of their approach. Whereupon Günther and Giselher strode to the window, Hagen following.
The warriors drew rein in the courtyard, while Hildebrand lowered his shield and asked in Dietrich’s name if it was indeed true that they had slain Sir Rüdiger. For such foul wrong, he added, might not go unavenged.
Hagen replied: “Heartily do I wish, Sir Hildebrand, that thou hadst been deceived. Yet it is true, alas! Noble Rüdiger lies dead in this hall, nor can his loss be bewailed too deeply!”
Then arose a great cry of woe from Dietrich’s band, and many a bearded warrior’s cheeks were wet with tears.
For sobbing, noble Hildebrand No question more could ask: Said he: “Now, knights, perform the will Of him who set the task! Give us, from out the hall forthwith Sir Rüdiger again, Whose death is cause of so much grief To all these warlike men. That we repay by obsequies His martial feats of yore And noble friendship shown to us, Now lost forevermore.”
And Günther consented to this; but Wolfhart, who could no longer contain his wrath, demanded with threatening gestures how long they were to beg and wait for what they sought. Volker replied that none should bring it to them now; if they would have Rüdiger’s body they must come with their swords and fetch it themselves from out the hall. He added: “Such service, methinks, were but Sir Rüdiger’s due.”
Furious at this, Wolfhart would have rushed at Volker, but Hildebrand withheld him by force. “Nay--curb thy headlong wrath! or thou wilt surely bring disgrace upon us all!”
“Let loose, good master Hildebrand, That lion of rash mood, That he may come within my reach!” So said the minstrel good, “And though he may have slain a host Of valiant knights before, I’ll smite him such a stinging blow That he’ll reply no more.”
These words filled Dietrich’s men with rage, while Wolfhart with a fierce shout tore himself free and like a raging lion leapt upon his foe, followed by all the knights. But old Hildebrand was there before him, “for since to fighting it must come--himself would be the first.” Straight on Hagen he rushed, and therewith arose a mighty clashing of sword on shield, while the sparks flew in showers. Yet soon were they parted by the tide of battle that surged about them. So terrible was the din, it was as that of a thousand forges. Bravely did they fight on either side, but Günther and Giselher, Hagen and his brother Dankwart, and Volker, outdid all the rest. Now Hildebrand saw Volker slay Sir Dietrich’s kinsman Siegestab, and thirsting for vengeance, the old warrior sprang upon him. Not long could he withstand such furious onslaught, and soon thereby did the brave minstrel meet his end. At the same moment also was Dankwart slain by Helferich. When Hagen saw both Volker and his brother dead, he swore most fearfully to avenge their fall, and therewith he rushed into the thickest of the fray, slaying right and left, and smiting so fiercely that all his former efforts seemed but as play.
But stout heroes were not lacking among Dietrich’s warriors, and surely was there never seen so mighty and so dire a combat. Thrice had the fiery Wolfhart encircled the hall, hewing down all before him, when he encountered Giselher. Fiercely the young prince sprang at him, and so truly and so mightily he smote that his sword clove Wolfhart’s shield and hauberk. Yet summoning all his strength, the dying hero dealt Giselher too his death stroke so that he fell lifeless at his feet. When Hildebrand saw his nephew Wolfhart fatally smitten he sprang quickly to his side and sought to bear him from the hall.
Then said the wounded-unto-death: “Kind uncle, all is o’er! No help canst thou or any one Render to Wolfhart more. One parting word I leave with thee-- Beware of Hagen’s brand; He has in heart and arm a power That nothing may withstand.
“If that my friends, when I am dead, Do weep and mourn for me, Then to my best and nearest kin Say, with much clemency, That they desist from heart-lament, Nor of my fall complain, For that I found a glorious death And was by king’s hand slain.”
And therewith he died.
At last, in all the great hall there were but three heroes left alive,--Günther, Hagen, and Hildebrand.
Then Hagen smote Sir Hildebrand, For that he Volker slew; The ancient chief did ward his blows With skill and courage too.
Yet could he not prevail against the might of the Burgundian hero, but soon received a grievous wound from Balmung’s flashing blade; whereupon, using his shield for cover, he turned and fled to the courtyard without.
Now lived of all those stalwart knights No more than these bold two: Günther, the King of Burgundy, And Hagen keen and true.
Sorrowfully sat Dietrich in his chamber meanwhile, hoping for better news from Hildebrand. Little was he aware that his knights had followed the old warrior, and still less that all by the Burgundians’ swords were slain. Wherefore, when Hildebrand appeared before him, his armor stained with blood, the hero shrank aghast and sternly asked if he had been at strife with the Burgundians against his strict commands. Hildebrand replied that Hagen had wounded him, and barely had he escaped with his life from that arch-fiend.
Then said Sir Dietrich, haughtily: “Thou hast been rightly served; For thou didst know that from these guests My friendship never swerved; Also thou hast infringed the peace I proffered with my breath: Were’t not that ’twould be lasting shame, Thou shouldst atone by death.”
Then Hildebrand sought to excuse himself, saying they had but asked for the body of Rüdiger, and this the Burgundians had refused them. When Dietrich thus learned that Rüdiger indeed was dead he abandoned himself to grief, but after a space asked by whose hand he fell. Hildebrand replied that Gernot had slain him, and by his hand, in turn, had been slain. Thereupon Dietrich resolved to go himself and have speech with the Burgundians; and calling for his armor, he bade Hildebrand summon his knights forthwith.
“Alas! my lord,” cried Hildebrand, “thou seest before thee all thy warriors!” And while Dietrich gazed at him horror-stricken, he told him all that had passed.
Now was Dietrich indeed plunged in sorrow. Loudly did he lament the loss of Wolfhart and all his brave knights, and cried: “This is the last day of my joy on earth!”
_Chapter XXXIII_
_Kriemhild’s Revenge and Death_
When Dietrich of Bern had regained his wonted composure he asked how many of the Burgundians yet were left alive, and Hildebrand told him none save Günther and Hagen,--all the rest were slain. Whereupon, filled with grief and wrath, he seized his arms and went forth with Hildebrand to seek them.
Leaning against the arched doorway stood the two Burgundian heroes, their shields before them on the ground; and when they saw the knights approaching, Hagen, still undaunted, declared himself ready to do battle with Sir Dietrich; nor did he fear to meet him, mighty as he deemed himself, for then would it be proved who was the better knight.
Dietrich heard this bold speech, but vouchsafed no reply. Laying down his shield and looking sorrowfully at them, he asked: “Wherein, O knights of Burgundy, have I injured you, that you should slay the noble Rüdiger, and with him all my friends and warriors?”
“Not all the blame lies with us, Sir Knight,” said Hagen, “for to this hall thy men came in arms. Thou hast been misinformed.”
“Alas!” replied Dietrich, “I know only too well what passed; for Hildebrand but now brought me word that he desired of you the corpse of Rüdiger, and you treated his suit with scorn.”
“Now, by my faith,” cried Günther, “’twas in despite of Etzel that we refused; but forthwith Wolfhart grew insolent, and thus it came to strife.”
Then said Dietrich: “Günther of Burgundy, for the evil thou hast wrought, methinks thou owest me some amends, and thou likewise, Sir Hagen. If you will yield yourselves captives to my sword, then I will guard you from the wrathful Huns,--at peril of my life, if need be.”
“God in heaven forbid,” cried Hagen, “that two such knights should give up their trusty swords while alive and well armed withal!”
But again Dietrich urged them to accept his terms, and Hildebrand added: “God knows, Sir Hagen, there is little need for shame in such atonement. And soon, it may be, the hour will come when you would gladly obtain such peace.”
[Illustration: _DEATH OF KRIEMHILD_]
“In faith,” replied Hagen, scornfully, “I would indeed accept such terms ere I, like thee, would fly full-armed, from a single knight.” Hildebrand would have returned this taunt, but Dietrich forbade them thus to bandy words like two old market-wives, and turning to Hagen he said, sternly: “Tell me, valiant hero, did I hear aright that you wished to measure swords with me?”
Well as he knew Sir Dietrich’s giant strength, he could not gainsay this; wherefore he replied that he would willingly abide the issue of a combat with him, so his good Nibelung sword did not fail him.