Chapter VI: —worms and the Nibelungenlied (1)

Worms is celebrated as the locality of the Nibelungenlied and the epic of Walthar of Aquitaine. But it has other claims to fame. Before entering on the consideration of Germanys greatest epic we will recount several of the lesser legends of the locality.

The Rose Garden: A Tale of Dietrich of Bern

Dietrich of Bern is the King Arthur of German story. Like his prototype of Britain, he has become the central figure of innumerable medieval tales and epics, a model of chivalry and martial prowess, distinguished everywhere by high deeds and mighty feats of arms, and in not a few cases displacing the rightful hero of still older myths, which thus became grafted on to the Dietrich legends. Originally he was a bona-fide historical personage, Theodoric the Ostrogoth, and as such gained a widespread popularity among his people. His historical character, however, was soon lost in the maze of legendary lore which surrounded his name, and which, as time went on, ascribed to him feats ever more wildly heroic. Among the various traditions there is one relating to the Rhenish town of Worms which calls for inclusion here as much on account of its intrinsic merit as because of its undoubted popularity. The legend of the Rose Garden of Worms is a quaint and fanciful tale, and even the circumstance that it ends with the death of several good knights and true does not rob it of a certain humorous quality it possesses.

By the time Dietrich had reached the prime of his adventurous lifeso runs the storyhe had gathered a considerable company of doughty paladins at his courthe formed, in fact, a kind of Round Tableand the knights who composed it were as eager as their lord to seek fresh fields wherein to display their prowess, and were second only to him in skill and valour. Among them were numbered such illustrious warriors as Herbrand, his son Hildebrand, Eckehart, Wolfhart, and Amelung.

On one occasion, as Dietrich was seated at table with his followers, he vowed that no court in Christendom could boast of such warriors as he could muster. The assembled knights greeted the assertion with hearty acclamationsall, that is, save the old warrior Herbrand, and he was silent. Dietrich looked at him in surprise.

Hast thou nothing to say, Herbrand? he asked.

Thinkest thou to find better knights than these?indicating his followers with a wave of his hand.

Herbrand seemed somewhat reluctant to uphold his tacit objection to Dietrichs claim. Ay, he said at length, there are such warriors to be found.

And where may we seek such paragons? inquired the king, none too well pleased.

In the town of Worms, replied the old knight, there lies a wondrous rose garden, of great extent, where the queen and her ladies take their pleasure. None save these may enter its precincts unless the queen give him leave, and that the sacred boundaries may not be overstepped twelve warriors are set to guard the garth. Such is their strength and courage that none has ever succeeded in passing them, whatever his skill and renown.

But wherefore should one seek to pass the guard? asked a young knight. Is there a prize to be won, then?

Truly, sighed old Herbrand, I would not give a hair of my head for the prize. Tis but a crown of roses and a kiss from one of the queens ladies; though it is said, indeed, that they are as lovely as women may be.

Are there no fair maids in Bern? cried the warriors indignantly. Must we go to the Rhine for them?

For myself, said Dietrich, I care little for the reward; yet methinks that for the honour and glory I would een meet these doughty warriors, and peradventure overcome them. Who will follow me to Burgundy?

As with one voice his knights responded to his appeal, and he chose eight from among them to accompany him on his quest. As there were still but nine, including Dietrich himself, to meet the twelve guardians of the Rose Garden, the king decided to send for three knights who were absent from the court. At the suggestion of Hildebrand he selected Rüdiger of Bechlarn, Dietleib of Styria, and Ilsan, who was brother to Hildebrand and at that time a monk in the monastery of Munchenzell. Rüdiger was margrave to King Etzel, and had to obtain his lords permission to venture forth on the romantic undertaking; Dietleibs father strongly recommended that the quest be abandoned, though the youth himself was as eager as any to accompany Dietrich; while as for Ilsan, he found it especially difficult to obtain leave of absence, for, naturally, his abbot deemed the enterprise a strange one for a monk who had fled all earthly delights. However, all difficulties were eventually overcome, and when the party was ready for departure Rüdiger was sent on an embassy to King Gibich at Worms, to prepare him for their coming. Gibich gave his ready consent to the proposed trial of strength, whereupon the warriors set out for the Rhine to see whether they might not win a kiss and a garland from some fair lady.

An imposing array did the knights of the Rose Garden make as they awaited the approach of the strangers, but no less imposing were Dietrich and his warriors. Each chose an opponent and immediately engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand struggle, which was to end disastrously for more than one brave knight. The first to dispatch his antagonist was Wolfhart, who submitted to being crowned with a rose-wreath, but disdained to accept the rest of the reward. The monk, who was the next victor, took the roses and kissed the maiden heartily. But alas! a bristly beard covered his chin, and the maid was left ruefully rubbing her pouting lips. One by one Dietrichs knights overcame their adversaries, some of whom were slain and some wounded. Toward nightfall a truce was called, and Dietrich and his company set out to return to Bern, well satisfied with having disproved the assertion of Herbrand that there were better warriors in the world than Dietrich and his noble company.

The Devils Vineyard

There is a curious legend told to account for the excellent quality of the wine of Worms. An old nobleman who at one time lived in that neighbourhood was in the habit of drinking more of the Rhenish wine than was good for him. In every other respect he was a most worthy man, kind, generous, and pious.

His piety, in an age when such qualities were rare, roused the ire of the Devil, who determined to bring about his fall, and as the old mans love of wine was his only serious weakness, it was through this that the Fiend set himself to compass the noblemans destruction.

The Devil therefore disguised himself as a strolling musician and made the acquaintance of the old man. The latter set before him some of the wine of the country, extolling meanwhile its rare qualities. The guest seemed not at all impressed by the recital, but spoke of a wine which he had tasted in the South and which far surpassed any other vintage. The nobleman was all curiosity. The stranger talked of the wonderful wine with feigned reluctance, and at length his host promised to give him anything he should ask if only he would fetch him some of the wine. Satan promised to plant a vineyard in Worms, asking in exchange the soul of his host, to be forfeited at the end of a fixed period.

To this the old man consented, and the strolling musician planted a vineyard which sprang up as though by magic. When the first vintage was produced it was found to be delicious beyond the dreams of the old nobleman, who was indeed a connoisseur in wines. In his delight he christened the wine Liebfrauenmilch, signifying Milk of our Blessed Lady. The Devil was furious at this reference to the Holy Virgin, but he consoled himself with the thought that in due course the mans soul would be his. But the Virgin herself was pleased with the christening of the vineyard, and rather sorry for the foolish old nobleman who had bartered his soul for the Devils wine. When, therefore, the time arrived for the Evil One to claim his fee, she sent her angels to drive him away, and thus he was robbed of his prey.

The old man, having learned the danger of treating with the Devil, now built a chapel to the Virgin in his vineyard. He lived for a long time to enjoy the luscious wine, under the protection of the saints, and never again did he make a compact with Satan.

Now, if anyone requires a proof of this marvellous story, is there not the Liebfrauenmilch, most delicious of wines to convince him of its truth?

The Maidens Caprice

In the town of Worms there stands an old manor, built in the style of the Renaissance and known as the Wampolder Hof. At one time it belonged to the lord of Wampold, a wealthy noble of Mainz, who had appointed as castellan a kinsman of his, himself a nobleman, though landless and poor and no longer able to uphold his former dignities. In his youth the keeper had lived a gay and careless life, but now he was old and infirm and cared no longer for worldly vanities. His sole pride was his young daughter, a bewitching maiden who had more lovers than one could readily count, and who smiled upon them all impartially. With so many lovelorn youths at her beck and call it is hardly surprising that she should grow exacting and capricious, but this, as usually happens, only made them love her the more.

There was one among her suitors, however, for whom she cherished a real affection. Handsome, cultured, and, like herself, of noble birth, he was, notwithstanding his poverty, by far the most eligible of the youths who sought her in marriage, and the castellan readily granted his consent to their betrothal. So for a time everything seemed to indicate happiness in store for the young couple.

Yet the maiden remained as capricious as ever. On Walpurgis-night, when a party of lads and lasses were gathered in the Wampolder Hof, and tales of witches and witchcraft were being told in hushed tones, she conceived a wild scheme to test her lovers affection: she bade him go to the cross-roads at midnight, watch the procession of witches, and return to tell her what he saw. The awed company protested vigorously against the proposed test, but the girl persisted, and at last her lover, seeing that she was already piqued at his refusal, laughingly set out for the bewitched spot, convinced that no harm would befall him.

Meantime the company in the manor anxiously awaited his return. One oclock came, then twothree; still there was no sign of him. Glances of horror and pity were cast at the castellans daughter, who now wrung her hands in futile grief. At length a few braver spirits volunteered to go in search of their comrade, but no trace of him could they find. His widowed mother, of whom he had been the only son, cursed the maid who was the cause of his ghastly fate, and not long afterward the castellans daughter lost her reason and died. On Walpurgis-nights she may still be heard in Worms calling for her lost lover, whom she is destined never to find.

The fate of the youth remains uncertain. The most popular account is that he was torn limb from limb by the infuriated witches and his remains scattered to the winds. But some, less superstitious than their neighbours, declared that he had been murdered by his rivals, the disappointed suitors, and that his body had been cast into the Rhinefor not long afterward a corpse, which might have been that of the missing youth, was drawn from the river by fishermen.

The Nibelungenlied

The greatest Rhine story of all is that wondrous German Iliad, the Nibelungenlied, for it is on the banks of the Rhine in the ancient city of Worms that its action for the most part takes place. The earliest actual form of the epic is referred to the first part of the thirteenth century, but it is probable that a Latin original founded on ballads or folk-songs was in use about the middle or latter end of the tenth century. The work, despite many medieval interpolations and the manifest liberties of generations of bards and minnesingers, bears the unmistakable stamp of a great antiquity. A whole literature has grown up around this mighty epic of old Germanic life, and men of vast scholarship and literary acumen have made it a veritable battle-ground of conflicting theories, one contending for its mythical genesis, another proving to his satisfaction that it is founded upon historic fact, whilst others dispute hotly as to its Germanic or Scandinavian origin.

So numerous are the conflicting opinions concerning the origin of the Nibelungenlied that it is extremely difficult to present to the reader a reasoned examination of the whole without entering rather deeply into philological and mythical considerations of considerable complexity. We shall therefore confine ourselves to the main points of these controversies and refrain from entering upon the more puzzling bypaths which are only to be trodden by the Senior Wranglers of the study, as they have been called.

Its Original Form

In the beginning of the nineteenth century Karl Lachmann, a philologist of some repute, put forward the theory that the poem was made up of a number of distinct ballads or lays, and he eliminated from it all parts which appeared to him to be interpolations. This reduced the whole to twenty lays, which he considered the work of twenty separate minstrels; but if certain ballads relating to episodes in the Nibelungenlied once existed in Germany it is the spirit of these more than the matter which is incorporated into the great epic. In medieval times, when the Nibelungenlied story was popular, minnesingers and harpers, in an attempt to please their audiences, would cast about for fresh incidents to introduce into the story. Popular as was the tale, even a medieval audience could tire of the oft-repeated exploits of its dramatis personae, and the minstrel, dependent upon their goodwill for bed and board, would be quick to note when the tale fell flat. Accordingly he would attempt to infuse into it some new incident or series of incidents, culled from other stories more often than not self-created. Such an interpolation is probably to be noted in the presence of Dietrich of Bern, otherwise Theodoric the Ostrogoth, at the court of Etzel or Attila. To say nothing of the probability of anachronism, geographical conditions are not a little outraged in the adoption of this incident, but the question arose who was to worst the mighty Hagen, whose sombre figure dominates in its gloomy grandeur the latter part of the saga. It would not do for any Hunnish champion to vie successfully with the Burgundian hero, but it would be no disgrace for him to be beaten by Dietrich, the greatest champion of antiquity, who, in fact, is more than once dragged into the pages of romance for the purpose of administering an honourable defeat to a hitherto unconquered champion. We can thus see how novel and subsidiary passages might attach themselves to the epic.

But a day came when the minnesingers of Germany felt that it behoved them to fix once and for all time the shape of the Lay of the Nibelungs. Indeed, not one, but several poets laboured at this task. That they worked with materials immediately to their hand is seen from the circumstance that we have proof of a Low German account, and a Rhenish version which was evidently moulded into its present shape by an Austrian or Tyrolese craftsmana singer well versed in court poetry and courtly etiquette. The date when the Nibelungenlied received its latest form was probably about the end of the twelfth century, and this last version was the immediate source of our present manuscripts. The date of the earliest known manuscript of the Nibelungenlied is comparatively late. We possess in all twenty-eight more or less complete manuscripts preserved in thirty-one fragments, fifteen of which date from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.

Its Fragmentary Nature

Even a surface examination is sufficient to testify to the fragmentary nature of the Nibelungenlied. We can discern through the apparent unity of texture of the work as we now possess it the patchwork where scribe or minstrel has interpolated this incident or joined together these passages to secure the necessary unity of narrative. Moreover, in none of the several versions of the Siegfried epic do we get the whole story. One supplements another. And while we shall follow the Nibelungenlied itself as closely as possible we shall in part supplement it from other kindred sources, taking care to indicate these where we find it necessary to introduce them.

Kriemhilds Dream

In the stately town of Worms, in Burgundy, dwelt the noble and beauteous maiden Kriemhild, under the care of her mother Ute, and her brothers Gunther, Gernot, and Giselher. Great was the splendour and state which they maintained, and many and brave were the warriors who drank wine at their board. Given to martial exercises were those men of might, and day by day the courts of the palace rang to the clangor of sword-play and manly sport. The wealth of the chiefs was boundless, and no such magnificence as theirs was known in any German land, or in any land beyond the German frontiers.

But with all this stateliness and splendour Kriemhild, the beautiful, was unhappy. One night she had had an ominous dream. She dreamed that she had tamed a falcon strong and fierce, a beauteous bird of great might, but that while she gazed on it with pride and affection two great eagles swooped from the sky and tore it to pieces before her very eyes. Affected by this to an extent that seemed inexplicable, she related her dream to her mother, Ute, a dame of great wisdom, who interpreted it as foretelling for her a noble husband, whom God protect, lest thou lose him too early. Kriemhild, in dread of the omen, desired to avert it by remaining unwed, a course from which her mother attempted to dissuade her, telling her that if ever she were destined to know heartfelt joy it would be from a husbands love.

Siegfried

Siegfried, of the Netherlands, son of Siegmund and Sieglind, a warrior bold as he was young and comely, having heard of the great beauty of Kriemhild, desired to visit Worms that he might see the far-famed princess for himself. Until this time he had been wandering through the world doing great deeds: he had won the sword and treasure of the Nibelungs, had overcome their monarchs, had conquered a dwarf Alberich, gaining possession of his cloak of darkness. Hagen, a mighty Burgundian paladin (in a passage which is obviously adapted from another version for the purpose of recounting Siegfrieds previous adventures), tells how he had slain a dragon and made himself invulnerable by bathing in its blood. We must receive him graciously, and avoid making him our enemy. Siegfried sojourned at Worms for over a year, distinguishing himself in all the martial exercises of the Burgundians and rendering them splendid service in their wars against the Saxons and Danes. A year passed without his having been allowed to meet Kriemhild, who in secret cherished the utmost admiration for him. Chagrined at the treatment meted out to him, he finally made up his mind to depart. But his hosts did not desire to lose such a valuable ally, and brought about a meeting between him and the lady of his dreams. The passage describing their first sight of one another is full of the essence of romance.

We are told that Kriemhild appeared before his eyes as does the rosy flush of dawn breaking from sombre clouds. As he beheld her his heart was soothed and all his trouble vanished, for there stood she who had cost him many a love-pang, her eyes sparkling with pleasure, brighter than the rich jewels which covered her raiment, her cheeks suffused with the blushes of maidenhood. No one had, he thought, ever seen so much beauty before. As the silver moon obscures the light of the stars by its superior splendour, so did Kriemhild obscure the beauty of the ladies who surrounded her. When he beheld her each hero drew himself up more proudly than ever and appeared as if ready to do battle for such a paragon of beauty. She was preceded by chamberlains in rich attire, but no ushers might keep back the knights from sight of her, and they crowded about her to catch a glimpse of her face. Pleased and sad was Siegfried, for, thought he, How may I ever hope to win so peerless a creature? The hope is a rash one. Better were I to forget herbut then, alas, my heart would have ceased to beat, and I should be dead! Pale and red he grew. He recked not of his own great worth. For all there agreed that so handsome a warrior had never come to the Rhineland, so fair of body, so debonair was he.

The Wooing of Brunhild

Siegfried now resolved to win Kriemhild, and on Gunthers asking him to accompany him on an adventure the purpose of which is to gain the hand of Queen Brunhild of Isenstein, he accepted on condition that on their return he should be rewarded by the hand of his sister. To this Gunther gave assent, and they set out, accompanied by Hagen and his brother Dankwart. But the Nibelungenlied proper is silent regarding Siegfrieds previous relations with Brunhild. In Scandinavian versionssuch as the Volsunga Saga, where this legend, originally a German one, is preserved in its pagan formBrunhild was a Valkyr, or war-maiden of Odin, who sent her to sleep with a prick of a magic thorn and imprisoned her within a circle of flame, through which Siegfried (in this version almost certainly the god of nature, springtide, and the sun) broke, delivered the captive, and took her as his bride, soon, however, departing from her. In the Nibelungenlied this ancient myth is either presupposed or intentionally omitted as unfitting for consumption by a Christianized folk, but it is hinted that Brunhild had a previous claim upon Siegfrieds affections.

Brunhild had made it a condition that the hero whom she would wed must be able to overcome her in three trials of prowess, losing his head as a penalty of failure. Siegfried, donning the magic cloak of invisibility he had won from Alberich, king of the dwarfs, took Gunthers place and won the three trials for him, Gunther going through a pantomime of the appropriate actions while Siegfried performed the feats. The passage which tells of the encounter is curious. A great spear, heavy and keen, was brought forth for Brunhilds use. It was more a weapon for a hero of might than for a maiden, but, unwieldy as it was, she was able to brandish it as easily as if it had been a willow wand. Three and a half weights of iron went to the making of this mighty spear, which scarce three of her men could carry. Sore afraid was Gunther. Well did he wish him safe in the Burgundian land. Once back in Rhineland, thought he, and I would not stir a foots distance to win any such war-maid.

But up spake Dankwart, Hagens valiant brother: Now is the day come on which we must bid farewell to our lives. An ill journey has this been, I trow, for in this land we shall perish at the hands of women. Oh, that my brother Hagen and I had but our good swords here! Then would these carles of Brunhilds check their laughter. Without arms a man can do nothing, but had I a blade in hand even Brunhild herself should die ere harm came to our dear lord.

This speech heard the warrior-maid. Now put these heroes swords into their hands, she commanded, and accoutre them in their mail.

Right glad was Dankwart to feel iron in his hand once more and know its weight upon his limbs. Now I am ready for such play as they list, he cried. Since we have arms, our lord is not yet conquered.

Into the ring of contest mighty men bore a great stone. Twelve of them it took to carry it, so ponderous it was. Woe were they of Burgundy for their lord at sight of the same.

Brunhild advanced on Gunther, brandishing her spear. Siegfried was by his side and touched him lightly to give him confidence, but Gunther knew not it was he and marvelled, for no one saw him there.

Who hath touched me? said he.

Tis I, Siegfried, replied his friend. Be of good cheer and fear not the maiden. Give me thy shield and mark well what I say. Make thou motions as if to guard and strike, and I will do the deeds. Above all hearken to my whispered advice.

Great was Gunthers joy when he knew that Siegfried was by him. But he had not long to marvel, for Brunhild was on him, her great spear in hand, the light from its broad blade flashing in his eyes. She hurled the spear at his shield. It passed through the iron as if it had been silk and struck on the rings of Gunthers armour. Both Gunther and Siegfried staggered at the blow. But the latter, although bleeding from the mouth with the shock of the thrown weapon, seized it, reversing the point, and cast it at Brunhild with such dreadful might that when it rang on her armour she was overthrown.

Right angry was Brunhild. But she weened that the blow was Gunthers, and respected him for his strength. Her anger, however, overcame her esteem, and seizing the great stone which had been placed in the ring of combat, she cast it from her twelve fathoms. Leaping after it, she sprang farther than she had thrown it. Then went Gunther to the stone and poised it while Siegfried threw it. He cast the stone farther than Brunhild had done, and so great was his strength that he raised King Gunther from the earth and leapt with him a greater distance than Brunhild had leapt herself. Men saw Gunther throw and leap alone.

Red with anger grew Brunhild when she saw herself defeated. Loudly she addressed her men.

Ho, ye liegemen of mine, she cried, now are ye subject to Gunther the King, for, behold, he has beaten me in the sports.

The knights then acclaimed Gunther as the victor. By his own strength of arm had he won the games, said they, and he in turn greeted them lovingly. Brunhild came forward, took him by the hand, and granted to him full power throughout her dominions. They proceeded to her palace and Gunthers warriors were now regaled with better cheer than before. But Siegfried carefully concealed his magic cloak.

Coming to where Gunther and Brunhild sat, he said: My lord, why do you tarry? Why are the games of which Queen Brunhild doth speak not yet begun? I long to see how they may be played. He acted his part so well that Brunhild really believed that he was not aware the games were over and that she was the loser.

Now, Sir Siegfried, said she, how comes it that you were not present when the games, which Gunther has won, were being played?

Hagen, fearing that Siegfried might blunder in his reply, took the answer out of his mouth and said: O Queen, the good knight Siegfried was hard by the ship when Gunther won the games from you. Naught indeed knew he of them.

Siegfried now expressed great surprise that any man living had been able to master the mighty war-maid. Is it possible, he exclaimed, is it possible, O Queen, that you have been vanquished at the sports in which you excel so greatly? But I for one am glad, since now you needs must follow us home to the Rhineland.

You are speedy of speech, Sir Siegfried, replied Brunhild. But there is much to do ere yet I quit my lands. First must I inform my kindred and vassals of this thing. Messengers must be sent to many of my kinsmen ere I depart from Isenstein.

With that she bade couriers ride to all quarters, bidding her kinsmen, her friends, and her warriors come without delay to Isenstein. For several days they arrived in troops: early and late they came, singly and in companies. Then with a large escort Brunhild sailed across the sea and up the Rhine to Worms.

Siegfried and Brunhild

It now became increasingly clear that Siegfried and Brunhild had had affectionate relations in the past. [Indeed, in the Volsunga Saga, which is an early version of the Nibelungenlied, we find Grimhild, the mother of Gudrun (Kriemhild), administering to Sigurd (Siegfried) a magic potion in order that he should forget about Brunhild.] On seeing Siegfried and Kriemhild greet each other with a kiss, sadness and jealousy wrung the heart of the war-maiden, and she evinced anything but a wifely spirit toward her husband Gunther, whom, on the first night of their wedded life, she wrestled with, defeated, and bound with her girdle, afterward hanging him up by it on a peg in the wall! Next day he appealed to Siegfried for assistance, and that night the hero donned his magic cloak of invisibility, contended with Brunhild in the darkness, and overcame her, she believing him to be Gunther, who was present during the strife. But Siegfried was foolish enough to carry away her ring and girdle, for very haughtiness. These he gave to Kriemhild, and sore both of them rued it in after-time. Brunhilds strength vanished with her maidenhood and thenceforth she was as any other woman.

Siegfried and Kriemhild now departed to the capital of Santen, on the Lower Rhine, and peace prevailed for ten years, until Brunhild persuaded Gunther to invite them to a festival at Worms. She could not understand how, if Siegfried was Gunthers vassal, as Gunther had informed her, he neither paid tribute nor rendered homage. The invitation was accepted cordially enough. But Kriemhild and Brunhild quarrelled bitterly regarding a matter of precedence as to who should first enter church, and at the door of the minster of Worms there was an unseemly squabble. Then Kriemhild taunted Brunhild with the fact that Siegfried had won and deserted her, and displayed the girdle and ring as proof of what she asserted.

Siegfried, confronted with Brunhild, denied that he had ever approached her in any unseemly way, and he and Gunther attempted to make peace between their wives. But all to no avail. A deadly feud had sprung up between them, which was to end in woe for all. Hagen swore a great oath that Siegfried should pay for the insult his wife had put upon Brunhild.

The Plot against Siegfried

Now, but four days after, news came to Gunthers court that war was declared against him. But this was merely a plot to draw Siegfried from the court and compass his death. The heroes armed for war, among them Siegfried. When Hagen bade farewell to Kriemhild she recommended Siegfried to his care. Now, when Siegfried slew the dragon which guarded the treasure of the Nibelungs, he bathed in its blood and became, like Achilles, invulnerable, save at a spot where a linden leaf had fallen between his shoulders as he bathed, and so prevented contact with the potent stream. Hagen inquired of Kriemhild the whereabouts of this vulnerable spot, pretending that he would guard Siegfried against treachery in battle; and she, fully believing in his good faith, sewed a silken cross upon Siegfrieds mantle to mark the place.

On the following morning Siegfried, with a thousand knights, took horse and rode away, thinking to avenge his comrades. Hagen rode beside him and carefully scanned his vesture. He did not fail to observe the mark, and having done so, he dispatched two of his men with another message. It was to the effect that the King might know that now his land would remain at peace. This Siegfried was loath to hear, for he would have done battle for his friends, and it was with difficulty that Gunthers vassals could hold him back. Then he rode to Gunther, who thanked him warmly for having so quickly granted his prayer. Gunther assured him that if need be he would at any time come to his aid, and that he held him the most trusty of all his friends. He pretended to be so glad that the threat of war was past that he suggested that they should ride hunting to the Odenwald after the bear and the boar, as they had so often done before. This was the counsel of the false Hagen.

It was arranged that they should start early for the greenwood, and Gunther promised to lend Siegfried several dogs that knew the forest ways well. Siegfried then hurried home to his wife, and when he had departed Hagen and the King took counsel together. After they had agreed upon the manner in which they would compass the destruction of Siegfried, they communicated their plans to their comrades. Giselher and Gernot would not take part in the hunt, but nevertheless they abstained from warning Siegfried of his danger. For this, however, they paid dearly in the end.

The morning dawned bright and clear, and away the warriors cantered with a clatter of hoofs and a boasting of bugles.

Siegfrieds Farewell to Kriemhild

Before departing Siegfried had said farewell to Kriemhild, who, she knew not why, was filled with dark forebodings.

God grant I may see thee safe and well again, said Siegfried. Keep thou a merry heart among thy kin until I return.

Then Kriemhild thought on the secret she had betrayed to Hagen, but she could not tell Siegfried of it. Sorely she wept, wishing that she had never been born, and keen and deep was her grief.

Husband, she said, go not to the hunt. A baleful dream I had last night. You stood upon the heath and two wild boars approached. You fled, but they pursued you and wounded you, and the blossoms under your feet were red with blood. You behold my tears. Siegfried, I dread treachery. Wot you not of some who cherish for us a deadly hate? I counsel you, I beg you, dear lord, go not to the greenwood.

Siegfried tried to laugh her fears away, It is but for a few days that I leave thee, beloved, he said. Who can bear me hate if I cherish none against them? Thy brothers wish me well, nor have I offended them in any wise.

But Kriemhild would not be comforted. Greatly do I dread this parting, she wailed, for I dreamed another dream. You passed by two mountains, and they rocked on their bases, fell, and buried you, so that I saw you no more. Go not, for bitterly will I grieve if you depart.

But with a laugh and a kiss Siegfried was gone. Leaping on his steed, he rode off at a gallop. Nevermore was she to see him in life.

Into the gloomy forest, the abode of the bear, the wolf, and the wild boar, plunged the knights in their lust of royal sport. Brilliant, brave, and goodly of cheer was the company, and rich was their entertainment. Many pack-horses laden with meats and wines accompanied them, and the panniers on the backs of these bulged with flesh, fish, and game, fitting for the table of a great king.

On a broad meadow fringing the greenwood they camped, near to the place where they were to begin the hunt, and watchers were sent round the camp, so that no one with a message of warning on his lips might win to the ears of Siegfried.

Siegfried waxed restless, for he had come not to feast but to hunt, and he desired to be home again with Kriemhild. Ha, comrades, he cried; who will into the forest with me and rouse the game?

Then, said the crafty Hagen, let us find who is the best sportsman. Let us divide the huntsmen and the hounds so that each may ride alone where he chooses; and great praise shall be to him who hunts the best and bears off the palm.

To this Siegfried agreed, and asked only for one hound that had been well broken to the chase to accompany him.

This was granted. Then there came an old huntsman with a limehound and led the sportsmen to where there was an abundance of game. Many beasts were started and hunted to the death, as is ever the way with good huntsmen.

Nothing that the limehound started could escape Siegfried. Swift was his steed as the tempest, and whether it was bear or boar he soon came up with it and slew it. Once he encountered a stark and mighty lion. Aiming an arrow at the monster, he shot it through the heart. The forest rang with acclaim at the deed.

Then there fell by his hand a buffalo, an elk, four grim aurochs, and a bear, nor could deer or hind escape him, so swift and wight was he. Anon he brought a wild boar to bay. The grisly beast charged him, but, drawing his sword, Siegfried transfixed it with the shining blade.

I pray thee, lord, said the huntsman, leave to us something living, for in truth thy strong arm doth empty both mountain and forest.

Merrily rang the noise of the chase in the greenwood that day. The hills and the leafy aisles of the forest resounded with the shouts of the hunters and the baying of dogs. In that hunting many a beast met its death-day and great was the rivalry. But when the hunting was over and the heroes met at the tryst-fire, they saw that Siegfried had proved himself the greatest huntsmen of them all.

One by one they returned from the forest to the trysting-place, carrying with them the shaggy fell of the bear, the bristly boar-skin, and the grey pelt of the wolf. Meat abounded in that place, and the blast of a horn announced to the hungry knights that the King was about to feast. Said Siegfrieds huntsman to him: I hear the blast of a horn bidding us return to the trysting-place, and raising his bugle to his lips, he answered it.

Siegfried was about to leave the forest, ambling quietly on horseback through the green ways, when he roused a mighty bear. The limehound was slipped and the bear lumbered off, pursued by Siegfried and his men. They dashed into a ravine, and here Siegfried thought to run the beast down, but the sides were too steep and the knight could not approach it on horseback. Lightly he sprang from his steed, and the bear, seeing his approach, once more took flight. So swift, however, was Siegfrieds pursuit that ere the heavy beast could elude him he had caught it by its shaggy coat and had bound it in such a manner that it was harmless; then, tying it across his horses back, he brought it to the tryst-fire for pastime.

Proudly emerged Siegfried from the forest, and Gunthers men, seeing him coming, ran to hold his horse. When he had dismounted he dragged the bear from his horses back and set it loose. Immediately the dogs pursued it, and in its efforts to escape into the forest it dashed madly through a band of scullions who were cooking by the great fire. There was a clatter of iron pots, and burning brands were strewed about. Many goodly dishes were spoiled. The King gave order to slip the hounds that were on leash. Taking their bows and spears, the warriors set off in chase of the bearbut they feared to shoot at it through fear of wounding any among the great pack of dogs that hung upon its flanks. The one man who could keep pace with the bear was Siegfried, who, coming up with it, pierced it with his sword and laid it dead on the ground. Then, lifting the carcass on his shoulders, he carried it back to the fire, to the marvel of all present.

Then began the feasting. Rich meats were handed around, and all was festive and gay. No suspicion had Siegfried that he was doomed, for his heart was pure of all deceit. But the wine had not yet been brought from the kitchen, whereat Sir Siegfried wondered.

Addressing Gunther, he said: Why do not your men bring us wine? If this is the manner in which you treat good hunters, certes, I will hunt no more. Surely I have deserved better at your hands.

And the false Gunther answered: Blame me not, Siegfried, for the fault is Hagens. Truly he would have us perish of thirst.

Dear master, said Hagen of Trony, the fault is mineif fault it befor methought we were to hunt to-day at Spessart and thither did I send the wine. If we go thirsty to-day, credit me I will have better care another time.

But Siegfried was athirst and said: If wine lacks, then must we have water. We should have camped nearer to the Rhine.

The Slaying of Siegfried

And Hagen, perceiving his chance, replied: I know of a cool spring close at hand. If you will follow me I will lead you thither.

Sore athirst was Siegfried, and starting up from his seat, he followed Hagen. But the crafty schemer, desiring to draw him away from the company so that none else would follow them, said to him as they were setting out for the spring: Men say, Siegfried, that none can keep pace with you when you run. Let us see now.

That may easily be proved, said Siegfried. Let us run to the brook for a wager, and see who wins there first. If I lose I will lay me before you in the grass. Nay, I will more, for I will carry with me spear, shield, and hunting gear.

Then did he gird on his weapons, even to his quiver, while the others stripped, and off they set. But Siegfried easily passed them and arrived at the lime-tree where was the well. But he would not drink first for courtesy, even although he was sore athirst.

Gunther came up, bent down to the water, and drank of the pure, cool well. Siegfried then bent him to drink also. But the false Hagen, carrying his bow and sword out of reach, sprang back and gripped the heros mighty spear. Then looked he for the secret mark on his vesture that Kriemhild had worked.

As Siegfried drank from the stream Hagen poised the great spear and plunged it between the heros shoulders. Deeply did the blade pierce through the spot where lay the secret mark, so that the blood spurted out on the traitors garments. Hagen left the spear deep in Siegfrieds heart and flew in grim haste from the place.

Though wounded to the death, Siegfried rose from the stream like a maddened lion and cast about him for a weapon. But nothing came to his hand but his shield. This he picked up from the waters edge and ran at Hagen, who might not escape him, for, sore wounded as he was, so mightily did he smite that the shield well-nigh burst and the jewels which adorned it flew in flinders. The blow rang across the meadow as Hagen fell beneath the stroke.

It was Siegfrieds last blow. His countenance was already that of a dead man. He could not stand upright. Down he crashed among the flowers; fast flowed his blood; in his agony he began to upbraid those who had contrived his death.

Cowards and caitiffs, he cried, is this the price you pay me for my fealty to you? Ill have you done by your friends, for sons of yours as yet unborn will feel the weight of this deed. You have vented your spite on my body; but for this dastard crime all good knights shall shun you.

Now all surrounded him, and those that were true among them mourned for him. Gunther also wept. But the dying man, turning to him, said: Does he weep for the evil from whom the evil cometh? Better for him that it had remained undone, for mighty is his blame.

Then said false Hagen: What rue ye? Surely our care is past. Who will now withstand us? Right glad am I that Siegfried is no more.

Loud was Siegfrieds dole for Kriemhild. Never was so foul a murder done as thou hast done on me, O king, he said to Gunther. I saved thy life and honour. But if thou canst show truth to any on earth, show it to my dear wife, I beg of thee, for never had woman such woe for one she loved.

Painfully he writhed as they watched him, and as he became weaker he spake prophetically.

Greatly shall ye rue this deed in the days to come, he groaned, for know, all of ye, that in slaying me ye have slain yourselves.

Wet were the flowers with his blood. He struggled grimly with death, but too deep had been the blow, and at last he spake no more.

They laid his body on a shield of ruddy gold and took counsel with one another how they should hide that the deed had been done by Hagen.

Sure have we fallen on evil days, said many; but let us all hide this thing, and hold to one tale: that is, that as Siegfried rode alone in the forest he was slain by robbers.

But, said Hagen of Trony, I will myself bear him back to Burgundy. It is little concern of mine if Kriemhild weep.

Kriemhilds Grief

Great was the grief of Kriemhild when she learned of the murder of her husband, whose body had been placed at her very door by the remorseless Hagen. He and the rest of the Burgundians pretended that Siegfried had been slain by bandits, but on their approach the wounds of Siegfried commenced to bleed afresh in mute witness of treachery. Kriemhild secretly vowed a terrible revenge and would not quit the land where her beloved spouse was buried. For four years she spake never a word to Gunther or Hagen, but sat silent and sad in a chamber near the minster where Siegfried was buried. Gunther sent for the Nibelungen treasure for the purpose of propitiating her, but she distributed it so freely among Gunthers dependents that Hagen conceived the suspicion that her intention was to suborn them to her cause and foment rebellion within the Burgundian dominions; therefore he seized it and sank it in the Rhine, forcing Kriemhilds brethren never to divulge its whereabouts.

It is a circumstance of some importance that when this treasure enters the land of the Burgundians they take the name of Nibelungs, as Siegfried was called Lord of the Nibelungs on first possessing the hoard, and for this reason that part of the poem which commences with the Burgundian acquirement of the treasure was formerly known as the Nibelungen Not.

The confiscation of the treasure was another sharp wound to Kriemhild, who appears to have bitterly cherished every hostile act committed against her by her uncle Hagen and her brothers, and to have secretly nursed her grievances throughout the remainder of her saddened existence.

Kriemhild Marries Attila

Thirteen years after the death of Siegfried, Helche, wife of Attila, or Etzel, King of the Huns, having died, that monarch was desirous of marrying again, and dispatched his faithful councillor, Rüdiger, Margrave of Bechlarn, to the Burgundian court to ask for the hand of Kriemhild. Her brethren, only too anxious to be rid of her accusing presence, gladly consented to the match, but Hagen had forebodings that if she gained power she would wreak a dreadful vengeance on them all. But he was overruled, and Rüdiger was permitted to interview Kriemhild. At first she would not hear of the marriage, but when Rüdiger expressed his surprise at the manner in which she was treated in her own country, and hinted that if she were to wed with Etzel she would be guarded against such insulting conduct, she consented. But first she made Rüdiger swear to avenge her wrongs, and this he did lightly, thinking it merely a womans whim which would pass away after marriage. She accompanied Rüdiger to the court of Etzel, stopping at his castle of Bechlarn, where dwelt his wife Gotelind and his daughter Dietlinde. The journey to Vienna is described in detail. At length they met Etzel at Tulna with twenty-four kings and princes in his train and a mighty retinue, the greatest guest present being Dietrich of Bern, King of the Goths, who with his band of Wolfings was sojourning at the court of Etzel. The nuptials took place at Vienna amid great magnificence, but through all Kriemhild sorrowed only for Siegfried and brooded long and darkly on her schemes of vengeance.

Seven years passed, during which Kriemhild won the love of all Etzels court. She bore the King a son, Ortlieb, and gained the confidence and respect of his advisers. Another six years passed, and Kriemhild believed that the time for vengeance had now arrived. To this end she induced Etzel to invite her brethren and Hagen to his court at Vienna. At first the Burgundians liked the hospitable message well, but suspicion of it was sown in their minds by Hagen, who guessed that treachery lurked beneath its honeyed words. In the end they accepted the invitation and journeyed to the land of the Huns, a thousand and sixty knights and nine thousand soldiers. On the way they encountered many ill omens.

The Journey

Through Eastern Frankland rode Gunthers men toward the river Main, led by Hagen, for well he knew the way. All men wondered when they saw the host, for never had any seen such lordly knights or such a rich and noble retinue. Well might one see that these were princes. On the twelfth day they came to the banks of the Danube, Hagen riding in the van. He dismounted on the rivers sandy shore and tied his steed to a tree. The river was swollen with rains and no boats were in sight. Now the Nibelungs could not perceive how they were to win over the stream, for it was broad and strong.

And Hagen rebuked the King, saying: Ill be with you, lord. See ye not that the river is swollen and its flood is mighty? Many a bold knight shall we lose here to-day.

Not greatly do thy words help, Hagen, spake the King. Meeter were it for thee to search for a ford, instead of wasting thy breath.

But Hagen sneered back: I am not yet weary of life, O king, and I wish not to drown in these broad waves. Better that men should die by my sword in Etzels land. Stay thou then by the waters edge, whilst I seek a ferryman along the stream.

To and fro he sought a ferryman. Soon he heard a splash of water and hearkened. In a spring not far off some women were bathing. Hagen spied them and crept stealthily toward them. But they saw his approach and went swiftly away. Hagen, approaching, seized their clothes.

Now these women were swan-maidens, or mermaids, and one of them, Hadburg, spake to him. Sir Hagen, she said, well wot I that ye wish to find a ferry. Now give to us our garments and we will show you where one is. They breasted the waves like swans. Once more spake Hadburg: Safely will ye go to Etzels land and great honours will ye gain there; aye, greater than hero ever rode to find.

Right joyous was Hagen at this speech. Back he handed to the maidens their weeds.

Then spake another mermaid, Sieglind: Take warning from me, Hagen. Believe not the word of mine aunt, for she has sore deceived thee. Go not to Etzels land, for there you shall die. So turn again. Whoso rideth onward hath taken death by the hand.

I heed not thy words, said Hagen, for how should it be that all of us die there through the hate of anyone?

So must it be, said Sieglind, for none of you shall live, save the Kings chaplain, who alone will come again safe and sound to Gunthers land.

Ye are wise wives, laughed Hagen bitterly. Well would Gunther and his lords believe me should I tell him this rede. I pray thee, show us over the stream.

So be it, replied Sieglind; since ye will not turn you from your journey. See you yonder inn by the waters side? There is the only ferry over the river.