Chapter VI: Book I (4)

The king came with his warriors, and, when he saw that his dear one wept, he spake kindly, “What aileth thee, dear wife?”

She answered, “Shamed must I stand, for thy sister would part me from mine honour? I make my plaint to thee. She proclaimeth aloud that Siegfried hath had me to his leman.”

Gunther answered, “Evilly hath she done.”

“She weareth here a girdle I have long lost, and my red gold. Woe is me that ever I was born! If thou clearest me not from this shame, I will never love thee more.”

Said Gunther, “Bid him hither, that he confess whether he hath boasted of this, or no.”

They summoned Siegfried, who, when he saw their anger and knew not the cause, spake quickly, “Why weep these women? Tell me straight; and wherefore am I summoned?”

Whereto Gunther answered, “Right vexed am I. Brunhild, my wife, telleth me here that thou hast boasted thou wert her leman. Kriemhild declareth this. Hast thou done it, O knight?”

Siegfried answered, “Not I. If she hath said so, I will rest not till she repent it. I swear with a high oath, in the presence of all thy knights, that I said not this thing.”

The king of the Rhine made answer, “So be it. If thou swear the oath here, I will acquit thee of the falsehood.” Then the Burgundians stood round in a ring, and Siegfried swore it with his hand; whereupon the great king said, “Verily, I hold thee guiltless, nor lay to thy charge the word my sister imputeth to thee.”

Said Siegfried further, “If she rejoiceth to have troubled thy fair wife, I am grieved beyond measure.” The knights glanced at each other.

“Women must be taught to bridle their tongues. Forbid proud speech to thy wife: I will do the like to mine. Such bitterness and pride are a shame.”

Angry words have divided many men. Brunhild made such dole, that Gunther’s men had pity on her. And Hagen of Trony went to her and asked what ailed her, for he found her weeping. She told him the tale, and he sware straightway that Kriemhild’s husband should pay for it, or never would Hagen be glad again.

While they talked together, Ortwin and Gernot came up, and the warriors counselled Siegfried’s death. But when Giselher, Uta’s fair child, drew nigh and heard them, he spake out with true heart, “Alack, good knights, what would ye do? How hath Siegfried deserved such hate that he should lose his life? A woman is lightly angered.”

“Shall we rear bastards?” cried Hagen. “That were small honour to good knights. I will avenge on him the boast that he hath made, or I will die.”

But the king himself said, “Good, and not evil, hath he done to us. Let him live. Wherefore should I hate the knight? He hath ever been true to me.”

But Ortwin of Metz said, “His great strength shall not avail him. Allow, O Lord, that I challenge him to his death.” So, without cause, they banded against him. Yet none had urged it further, had not Hagen tempted Gunther every day, saying, that if Siegfried lived not, many kings’ lands were subject to him.

Whereat the warrior began to grieve.

Meanwhile they let the matter lie, and returned to the tourney. Ha! what stark spears they brake before Kriemhild, atween the minster and the palace; but Gunther’s men were wroth.

Then said the king, “Give over this deadly hate. For our weal and honour he was born. Thereto the man is so wonderly stark and grim, that, if he were ware of this, none durst stand against him.”

“Not so,” said Hagen. “Assure thee on that score. For I will contrive secretly that he pay for Brunhild’s weeping. Hagen is his foe evermore.”

But Gunther said, “How meanest thou?”

And Hagen answered, “On this wise. Men that none here knoweth shall ride as envoys into this land and declare war. Whereupon thou wilt say before thy guests that thou must to battle with thy liegemen. When thou hast done this, he will promise to help thee. Then he shall die, after I have learnt a certain thing from his wife.”

Evilly the king followed Hagen, and they plotted black treason against the chosen knight, without any suspecting it. So, through the quarrel of two women, died many warriors.

Fifteenth Adventure How Siegfried Was Betrayed

On the fourth morning, thirty and two men were seen riding to the court. They brought word to Gunther that war was declared against him. The women were woeful when they heard this lie.

The envoys won leave to go into the king, and they said they were Ludger’s men, that Siegfried’s hand had overcome in battle and brought captive into Gunther’s land.

The king greeted them, and bade them sit, but one of them said, “Let us stand, till that we have declared the message wherewith we are charged to thee. Know that thou hast to thy foemen many a mother’s son. Ludger and Ludgast, whom thou hast aforetime evilly entreated, ride hither to make war against thee in this land.”

The king fell in a rage, as if he had known naught thereof. Then they gave the false messengers good lodging. How could Siegfried or any other guess their treason, whereby, or all was done, they themselves perished?

The king went whispering up and down with his friends. Hagen of Trony gave him no peace. Many of the knights were fain to let it drop, but Hagen would not be turned from it.

On a day that Siegfried found them whispering, he asked them, “Wherefore are the king and his men so sorrowful? If any hath done aught to their hurt, I will stand by them to avenge it.”

Gunther answered, “I grieve not without cause. Ludgast and Ludger ride hither to war against me in my land.”

Then said the bold knight, “Siegfried’s arm will withstand them on such wise, that ye shall all come off with honour. I will do to these warriors even as I did aforetime. Waste will be their lands and their castles, or I be done. I pledge my head thereto. Thou and thy men shall tarry here at home, and I will ride forth with my knights that I have with me. I serve thee gladly, and will prove it. Doubt not that thy foemen shall suffer scathe at my hand.”

“These be good words,” answered the king, as he were truly glad, and craftily the false man bowed low.

Then said Siegfried further, “Have no fear.”

The knights of Burgundy made ready for war, they and their squires, and dissembled before Siegfried and his men. Siegfried bade them of the Netherland lose no time, and they sought out their harness.

Then spake stark Siegfried, “Tarry here at home, Siegmund, my father. If God prosper us, we shall return or long to the Rhine. Meanwhile, be thou of good cheer here by the king.”

They made as if to depart, and bound on the standard. Many of Gunther’s knights knew nothing of how the matter stood, and a mighty host gathered round Siegfried. They bound their helmets and their coats of mail on to the horses and stood ready. Then went Hagen of Trony to Kriemhild, to take his leave of her, for they would away.

“Well for me,” said Kriemhild, “that ever I won to husband a man that standeth so true by his friends, as doth Siegfried by my kinsmen. Right proud am I. Bethink thee now, Hagen, dear friend, how that in all things I am at thy service, and have ever willed thee well. Requite me through my husband, that I love, and avenge not on him what I did to Brunhild. Already it repenteth me sore. My body hath smarted for it, that ever I troubled her with my words. Siegfried, the good knight, hath seen to that.”

Whereto Hagen answered, “Ye will shortly be at one again. But Kriemhild, prithee tell me wherein I can serve thee with Siegfried, thy husband, and I will do it, for I love none better.”

“I should fear naught for his life in battle, but that he is foolhardy, and of too proud a courage. Save for that, he were safe enow.”

Then said Hagen, “Lady, if thou fearest hurt for him in battle, tell me now by what device I may hinder it, and I will guard him afoot and on horse.”

She answered, “Thou art my cousin, and I thine. To thy faith I commend my dear husband, and thou mayst watch and keep him.”

Then she told him what she had better have left unsaid.

“My husband is stark and bold. When that he slew the dragon on the mountain, he bathed him in its blood; wherefore no weapon can pierce him. Nevertheless, when he rideth in battle, and spears fly from the hands of heroes, I tremble lest I lose him. Alack! for Siegfried’s sake how oft have I been heavy of my cheer! And now, dear cousin, I will trust thee with the secret, and tell thee, that thou mayst prove thy faith, where my husband may be wounded. For that I know thee honourable, I do this. When the hot blood flowed from the wound of the dragon, and Siegfried bathed therein, there fell atween his shoulders the broad leaf of a lime tree. There one might stab him, and thence is my care and dole.”

Then answered Hagen of Trony, “Sew, with thine own hand, a small sign upon his outer garment, that I may know where to defend him when we stand in battle.”

She did it to profit the knight, and worked his doom thereby. She said, “I will sew secretly, with fine silk, a little cross upon his garment, and there, O knight, shalt thou guard to me my husband when ye ride in the thick of the strife, and he withstandeth his foemen in the fierce onset.”

“That will I do, dear lady,” answered Hagen.

Kriemhild thought to serve Siegfried; so was the hero betrayed.

Then Hagen took his leave and went forth glad; and his king bade him say what he had learned.

“If thou wouldst turn from the journey, let us go hunting instead; for I have learned the secret, and have him in my hand. Wilt thou contrive this?”

“That will I,” said the king.

And the king’s men rejoiced. Never more, I ween, will knight do so foully as did Hagen, when he brake his faith with the queen.

The next morning Siegfried, with his thousand knights, rode merrily forth; for he thought to avenge his friends. And Hagen rode nigh him, and spied at his vesture. When he saw the mark, he sent forward two of his men secretly, to ride back to them with another message: that Ludger bade tell the king his land might remain at peace.

Loth was Siegfried to turn his rein or had he done battle for his friends. Gunther’s vassals scare held him back. Then he rode to the king, that thanked him.

“Now, God reward thee, Siegfried, my kinsman, that thou didst grant my prayer so readily. Even so will I do by thee, and that justly. I hold thee trustiest of all my friends. Seeing we be quit of this war, let us ride a hunting to the Odenwald after the bear and the boar, as I have often done.”

Hagen, the false man, had counselled this.

“Let it be told to my guests straightway that I will ride early. Whoso would hunt with me, let him be ready betimes. But if any would tarry behind for pastime with the women, he shall do it, and please me thereby.”

Siegfried answered on courtly wise, “I will hunt with thee gladly, and will ride to the forest, if thou lend me a huntsman and some brachs.”

“Will one suffice?” asked Gunther. “I will lend thee four that know the forest well, and the tracks of the game, that thou come not home empty-handed.”

Then Siegfried rode to his wife.

Meanwhile Hagen had told the king how he would trap the hero. Let all men evermore avoid such foul treason. When the false man had contrived his death, they told all the others. Giselher and Gernot were not hunting with the rest. I know not for what grudge they warned him not. But they paid dear for it.

Sixteenth Adventure How Siegfried Was Slain

Gunther and Hagen, the fierce warriors, went hunting with false intent in the forest, to chase the boar, the bear, and the wild bull, with their sharp spears. What fitter sport for brave men?

Siegfried rode with them in kingly pomp. They took with them good store of meats. By a cool stream he lost his life, as Brunhild, King Gunther’s wife, had devised it.

But or he set out, and when the hunting-gear was laid ready on the sumpters that they were to take across the Rhine, he went to Kriemhild, that was right doleful of her cheer. He kissed his lady on the mouth. “God grant I may see thee safe and well again, and thou me. Bide here merry among thy kinsfolk, for I must forth.”

Then she thought on the secret she had betrayed to Hagen, but durst not tell him. The queen wept sore that ever she was born, and made measureless dole.

She said, “Go not hunting. Last night I dreamed an evil dream: how that two wild boars chased thee over the heath; and the flowers were red with blood. Have pity on my tears, for I fear some treachery. There be haply some offended, that pursue us with deadly hate. Go not, dear lord; in good faith I counsel it.”

But he answered, “Dear love, I go but for a few days. I know not any that beareth me hate. Thy kinsmen will me well, nor have I deserved otherwise at their hand.”

“Nay, Siegfried, I fear some mischance. Last night I dreamed an evil dream: how that two mountains fell on thee, and I saw thee no more. If thou goest, thou wilt grieve me bitterly.”

But he caught his dear one in his arms and kissed her close; then he took leave of her and rode off.

She never saw him alive again.

They rode thence into a deep forest to seek sport. The king had many bold knights with him, and rich meats, that they had need of for the journey. Sumpters passed laden before them over the Rhine, carrying bread and wine, and flesh and fish, and meats of all sorts, as was fitting for a rich king.

The bold huntsmen encamped before the green wood where they were to hunt, on a broad meadow. Siegfried also was there, which was told to the king. And they set a watch round the camp.

Then said stark Siegfried, “Who will into the forest and lead us to the game?”

“If we part or we begin the chase in the wood,” said Hagen, “we shall know which is the best sportsman. Let us divide the huntsmen and the hounds; then let each ride alone as him listeth, and he who hunteth the best shall be praised.” So they started without more ado.

But Siegfried said, “One hound that hath been well trained for the chase will suffice for me. There will be sport enow!”

Then an old huntsman took a limehound, and brought the company where there was game in plenty. They hunted down all the beasts they started, as good sportsmen should.

Whatsoever the limehound started, the hero of the Netherland slew with his hand. His horse ran so swift that naught escaped him; he won greater praise than any in the chase. In all things he was right manly. The first that he smote to the death was a half-bred boar. Soon after, he encountered a grim lion, that the limehound started. This he shot with his bow and a sharp arrow; the lion made only three springs or he fell. Loud was the praise of his comrades. Then he killed, one after the other, a buffalo, an elk, four stark ureoxen, and a grim shelk. His horse carried him so swiftly that nothing outran him. Deer and hind escaped him not.

The limehound tracked a wild boar next that began to flee. But Siegfried rode up and barred the path, whereat the monster ran at the knight. He slew him with his sword. Not so lightly had another done it.

They leashed their limehound then, and told the Burgundians how Siegfried had prospered. Whereupon his huntsman said, “Prithee, leave something alive; thou emptiest to us both mountain and forest.” And Siegfried laughed.

The noise of the chase was all round them; hill and wood rang with shouting and the baying of dog, for the huntsmen had loosed twenty and four hounds. Many a beast perished that day, for each thought to win the prize of the chase. But when stark Siegfried rode to the tryst-fire, they saw that could not be.

The hunt was almost over. The sportsmen brought skins and game enow with them to the camp. No lack of meat for cooking was there, I ween.

Then the king bade tell the knights that he would dine. And they blew a blast on a horn, that told the king was at the tryst-fire.

Said one of Siegfried’s huntsmen, “I heard the blast of a horn bidding us back to the camp. I will answer it.” And they kept blowing to assemble the company.

Siegfried bade quit the wood. His horse bare him smoothly, and the others pricked fast behind. The noise roused a grim bear, whereat the knight cried to them that came after him, “Now for sport! Slip the dog, for I see a bear that shall with us to the tryst-fire. He cannot escape us, if he ran ever so fast.”

They slipped the limehound; off rushed the bear. Siegfried thought to run him down, but he came to a ravine, and could not get to him; then the bear deemed him safe. But the proud knight sprang from his horse, and pursued him. The beast had no shelter. It could not escape from him, and was caught by his hand, and, or it could wound him, he had bound it, that it could neither scratch nor bite. Then he tied it to his saddle, and, when he had mounted up himself, he brought it to the tryst-fire for pastime.

How right proudly he rode to the camping ground! His boar-spear was mickle, stark and broad. His sword hung down to the spur, and his hunting-horn was of ruddy gold. Of better hunting-gear I never heard tell. His coat was black samite, and his hat was goodly sable. His quiver was richly laced, and covered with a panther’s hide for the sake of the sweet smell. He bare, also, a bow that none could draw but himself, unless with a windlass. His cloak was a lynx-skin, pied from head to foot, and embroidered over with gold on both sides. Also Balmung had he done on, whereof the edges were so sharp that it clave every helmet it touched. I ween the huntsman was merry of his cheer. Yet, to tell you the whole, I must say how his rich quiver was filled with good arrows, gilt on the shaft, and broad a hand’s breadth or more. Swift and sure was the death of him that he smote therewith.

So the knight rode proudly from the forest, and Gunther’s men saw him coming, and ran and held his horse.

When he had alighted, he loosed the band from the paws and from the mouth of the bear that he had bound to his saddle.

So soon as they saw the bear, the dogs began to bark. The animal tried to win back to the wood, and all the folk fell in great fear. Affrighted by the noise, it ran through the kitchen. Nimbly started the scullions from their place by the fire. Pots were upset and the brands strewed over all. Alack! the good meats that tumbled into the ashes!

Then up sprang the princes and their men. The bear began to growl, and the king gave order to slip the hounds that were on leash. I’faith, it had been a merry day if it had ended so.

Hastily, with their bows and spears, the warriors, swift of foot, chased the bear, but there were so many dogs that none durst shoot among them, and the forest rang with the din. Then the bear fled before the dogs, and none could keep pace with him save Kriemhild’s husband, that ran up to him and pierced him dead with his sword, and carried the carcase back with him to the fire. They that saw it said he was a mighty man.

Then they bade the sportsmen to the table, and they sat down, a goodly company enow, on a fair meadow. Ha! what dishes, meet for heroes, were set before them. But the cup-bearers were tardy, that should have brought the wine. Save for that, knights were never better served. If there had not been false-hearted men among them, they had been without reproach. The doomed man had no suspicion that might have warned him, for his own heart was pure of all deceit. Many that his death profited not at all had to pay for it bitterly.

Then said Sir Siegfried, “I marvel, since they bring us so much from the kitchen, that they bring not the wine. If good hunters be entreated so, I will hunt no more. Certes, I have deserved better at your hands.”

Whereto the king at the table answered falsely, “What lacketh to-day we will make good another time. The blame is Hagen’s, that would have us perish of thirst.”

Then said Hagen of Trony, “Dear master, Methought we were to hunt to-day at Spessart, and I sent the wine thither. For the present we must go thirsty; another time I will take better care.”

But Siegfried cried, “Small thank to him. Seven sumpters with meat and spiced wines should he have sent here at the least, or, if that might not be, we should have gone nigher to the Rhine.”

Hagen of Trony answered, “I know of a cool spring close at hand. Be not wroth with me, but take my counsel, and go thither.” The which was done, to the hurt of many warriors. Siegfried was sore athirst and bade push back the table, that he might go to the spring at the foot of the mountain. Falsely had the knights contrived it. The wild beasts that Siegfried’s hand had slain they let pile on a waggon and take home, and they that saw it praised him.

Foully did Hagen break faith with Siegfried. He said, when they were starting for the broad lime tree, “I hear from all sides that none can keep pace with Kriemhild’s husband when he runneth. Let us see now.”

Bold Siegfried of the Netherland answered, “Thou mayst easily prove it, if thou wilt run with me to the brook for a wager. The praise shall be to him that winneth there first.”

“Let us see then,” said Hagen the knight.

And stark Siegfried answered, “If I lose, I will lay me at thy feet in the grass.”

A glad man was King Gunther when he heard that!

Said Siegfried further, “Nay, I will undertake more. I will carry on me all that I wear—spear, shield, and hunting gear.” Whereupon he girded on his sword and his quiver in haste. Then the others did off their clothes, till they stood in their white shirts, and they ran through the clover like two wild panthers; but bold Siegfried was seen there the first. Before all men he won the prize in everything. He loosed his sword straightway, and laid down his quiver. His good spear he leaned against the lime tree; then the noble guest stood and waited, for his courtesy was great. He laid down his shield by the stream. Albeit he was sore athirst, he drank not till that the king had finished, who gave him evil thanks.

The stream was cool, pure, and good. Gunther bent down to the water, and rose again when he had drunk. Siegfried had gladly done the like, but he suffered for his courtesy. Hagen carried his bow and his sword out of his reach, and sprang back and gripped the spear. Then he spied for the secret mark on his vesture; and while Siegfried drank from the stream, Hagen stabbed him where the cross was, that his heart’s blood spurted out on the traitor’s clothes. Never since hath knight done so wickedly. He left the spear sticking deep in his heart, and fled in grimmer haste than ever he had done from any man on this earth afore.

When Siegfried felt the deep wound, he sprang up maddened from the water, for the long boar spear stuck out from his heart. He thought to find bow or sword; if he had, Hagen had got his due. But the sore-wounded man saw no sword, and had nothing save his shield. He picked it up from the water’s edge and ran at Hagen. King Gunther’s man could not escape him. For all that he was wounded to the death, he smote so mightily that the shield well-nigh brake, and the precious stones flew out. The noble guest had fain taken vengeance.

Hagen fell beneath his stroke. The meadow rang loud with the noise of the blow. If he had had his sword to hand, Hagen had been a dead man. But the anguish of his wound constrained him. His colour was wan; he could not stand upright; and the strength of his body failed him, for he bare death’s mark on his white cheek. Fair women enow made dole for him.

Then Kriemhild’s husband fell among the flowers. The blood flowed fast from his wound, and in his great anguish he began to upbraid them that had falsely contrived his death. “False cowards!” cried the dying knight. “What availeth all my service to you, since ye have slain me? I was true to you, and pay the price for it. Ye have done ill by your friends. Cursed by this deed are your sons yet unborn. Ye have avenged your spite on my body all too bitterly. For your crime ye shall be shunned by good knights.”

All the warriors ran where he lay stabbed. To many among them it was a woeful day. They that were true mourned for him, the which the hero had well deserved of all men.

The King of Burgundy, also, wept for his death, but the dying man said, “He needeth not to weep for the evil, by whom the evil cometh. Better had he left it undone, for mickle is his blame.”

Then said grim Hagen, “I know not what ye rue. All is ended for us—care and trouble. Few are they now that will withstand us. Glad am I that, through me, his might is fallen.”

“Lightly mayst thou boast now,” said Siegfried; “if I had known thy murderous hate, it had been an easy thing to guard my body from thee. My bitterest dole is for Kriemhild, my wife. God pity me that ever I had a son. For all men will reproach him that he hath murderers to his kinsmen. I would grieve for that, had I the time.”

He said to the king, “Never in this world was so foul a murder as thou hast done on me. In thy sore need I saved thy life and thine honour. Dear have I paid for that I did well by thee.” With a groan the wounded man said further, “Yet if thou canst show truth to any on this earth, O King, show it to my dear wife, that I commend to thee. Let it advantage her to be thy sister. By all princely honour stand by her. Long must my father and my knights wait for my coming. Never hath woman won such woe through a dear one.”

He writhed in his bitter anguish, and spake painfully, “Ye shall rue this foul deed in the days to come. Know this of a truth, that in slaying me ye have slain yourselves.”

The flowers were all wet with blood. He strove with death, but not for long, for the weapon of death cut too deep. And the bold knight and good spake no more.

When the warriors saw that the hero was dead, they laid him on a shield of ruddy gold, and took counsel how they should conceal that Hagen had done it. Many of them said, “Evil hath befallen us. Ye shall all hide it, and hold to one tale—when Kriemhild’s husband was riding alone in the forest, robbers slew him.”

But Hagen of Trony said, “I will take him back to Burgundy. If she that hath troubled Brunhild know it, I care not. It concerneth me little if she weep.”

Of that very brook where Siegfried was slain ye shall hear the truth from me. In the Odenwald is a village that hight Odenheim, and there the stream runneth still; beyond doubt it is the same.

Seventeenth Adventure How Siegfried Was Mourned and Buried

They tarried there that night, and then crossed the Rhine. Heroes never went to so woeful a hunt. For one thing that they slew, many women wept, and many a good knight’s body paid for it. Of overweening pride ye shall hear now, and grim vengeance.

Hagen bade them bear dead Siegfried of the Nibelung land before the chamber where Kriemhild was, and charged them to lay him secretly outside the door, that she might find him there when she went forth to mass or it was day, the which she was wont to do.

The minster bell was rung as the custom was. Fair Kriemhild waked her maidens, and bade them bring her a light and her vesture.

Then a chamberlain came and found Siegfried. He saw him red with blood, and his garment all wet, but he knew not yet that he was his king. He carried the light into the room in his hand, and from him Kriemhild heard evil tidings.

When she would have gone with her women to the minster, the chamberlain said, “Lady, stop! A murdered knight lieth on the threshold.”

“Woe is me!” cried Kriemhild. “What meanest thou by such news?”

Or she knew for certain that it was her husband, she began to think on Hagen’s question, how he might guard him. From that moment her dole began; for, with his death, she took leave of all joy. She sank on the floor speechless; they saw the miserable woman lying there. Kriemhild’s woe was great beyond measure, and after her swoon she cried out, that all the chamber rang.

Then said her attendants, “What if it be a stranger?”

But the blood burst from her mouth by reason of her heart’s anguish, and she said, “Nay, it is Siegfried, my dear husband. Brunhild hath counselled it, and Hagen hath done it.”

The lady bade them show her where the hero lay. She lifted his beautiful head with her white hands. Albeit he was red with blood, she knew him straightway. Pitifully the hero of the Netherland lay there.

The gentle, good queen wailed in anguish, “Woe is me for this wrong! Thy shield is unpierced by swords. Thou liest murdered. If I knew who had done this deed, I would not rest till he was dead.”

All her attendants wailed and cried with their dear mistress, for they were woe for their noble master that they had lost. Foully had Hagen avenged Brunhild’s anger.

The sorrowful one said, “Go and wake Siegfried’s men quickly; and tell Siegmund also my dole, that he may help me to mourn for brave Siegfried.”

Then a messenger ran in haste where Siegfried’s heroes of the Nibelung land lay, and took from them their joy with heavy tidings. They believed it not, till they heard the wailing.

The messenger also came quickly where the king was. Siegmund slept not. I ween his heart told him what had happened, and that he would see his dear son never more.

“Arouse thee, Sir Siegmund! Kriemhild, my lady, hath sent me. For a wrong hath been done her, that lieth heavier on her heart than any other hath done. Thou shalt help her to mourn, for it is thy sorrow also.”

Up rose Sir Siegmund then, and said, “What is fair Kriemhild’s grief, whereof thou tellest me?”

The messenger answered, weeping, “She mourneth with cause. Bold Siegfried of the Netherland is slain.”

But Siegmund said, “Jest not with these evil tidings of my son, and say to none that he is slain; for never to my life’s end could I mourn him enow.”

“If thou believest not what I tell thee, hearken thyself to Kriemhild, how she maketh dole for Siegfried’s death with all her maidens.”

Then Siegmund feared and was sore affrighted. With an hundred of his men he sprang out of his bed; they grasped their long swords and keen, with their hands, and ran sorrowfully where they heard the sound of weeping. A thousand of Siegfried’s knights came running. They thought not on their vesture till they were there, for they had lost their wits through grief. Mickle woe was buried in their hearts.

Then came Siegmund to Queen Kriemhild, and said, “Woe is me for our journey hither! Who, among such good friends, hath murderously robbed me of my child, and thee of thy husband?”

“If I knew that,” answered the noble woman, “I were ever his foe with heart and soul. Trust me, I would so contrive his hurt that all his friends, by reason of me, would yet weep for sorrow.”

Siegmund took the prince in his arms; the grief of his friends was so great that, with their loud wailing and their weeping, palace and hall and the town of Worms rang again. None could comfort Siegfried’s wife. They took the clothes off his beautiful body, and washed his wounds and laid him on a bier, and all his folk were heavy with great grief.

Then spake his knights of the Netherland, “Our hands are ready for vengeance. He that hath done it is in this house.”

Siegfried’s men armed them in haste; the valiant knights assembled to the number of eleven hundred. These had Siegmund, the mighty king, for his following; and, as his honour bade him, he had gladly avenged the death of his son. They knew not whom they should fall on, if it were not Gunther and his men, with whom Siegfried had gone hunting.

But when Kriemhild saw them armed, she was greatly grieved. For all her dole and her pain, she so feared the death of the Nibelungs at the hand of her brother’s men that she forbade their vengeance, and warned them in love, as friend doth with dear friend.

The sorrowful queen said, “My lord, Siegmund, what wouldst thou do? Surely thou knowest not how many bold knights Gunther hath. If ye come to grips with them, ye must certainly perish.”

They stood eager for strife with their shields dressed, but the queen begged and commanded them to forbear; that they would not, grieved her sore.

She said, “My lord Siegmund, let be, till more fitting season, and I will help thee to avenge my husband. Verily, I will show him that took him from me that he hath done it to his hurt. Here by the Rhine there are so many overweening men that I would have thee, for the present, forbear from battle; for thy one man they have at least the thirty. God do to them as they have done to us. Tarry here, brave knights, and mourn with me till it is day, and help me to lay my dear husband in his coffin.”

The warriors answered, “Dear lady, be it so.”

None might tell to the end the wailing that arose there from knights and women. It was so loud that they in the town heard it, and the noble burghers hasted thither, and mourned with the guests, for they were right sorrowful. They knew no fault in Siegfried for which he had lost his life, and the good burgesses’ wives wept with the women of the court.

They bade the smiths go and make a coffin of silver and of gold, mickle and stark, and brace it strongly with good steel. Right heavy of their cheer were all the folk.

The night was ended. They told them it was day, and the queen gave order to bear the dead knight, her dear husband, to the minster; and all the friends he had there followed weeping.

When they came to the minster, how many a bell rang out! On all sides they sang requiems. Thither came King Gunther with his men, and also grim Hagen, that had better stayed away.

Gunther said, “Dear sister, woe is me for this grief of thine, and that this great misadventure hath befallen us. We must ever mourn Siegfried’s death.”

“Ye do wrongly,” said the wailing queen. “If it grieved thee, it had never happed. I was clean forgotten by thee when thou didst part me from my dear husband. Would to God thou hadst done it to me instead!”

But they held to their lie, and Kriemhild went on. “Let him that is guiltless prove it. Let him go up to the bier before all the folk, and soon we shall know the truth.”

It is a great marvel, and ofttimes seen even now, how that, when the murderer standeth by the dead, the wounds bleed again. And so it fell then, and Hagen’s guilt was plain to all.

The wounds burst open and bled as they had done afore; and they that had wept already wept now much more. King Gunther said, “Hear the truth. He was slain by robbers. Hagen did it not.”

“These robbers,” she answered, “I know well. God grant that his kinsmen’s hands may avenge it. By you, Gunther and Hagen, was it done.” Siegfried’s knights had fain fallen on them, but Kriemhild said, “Help me to bear my woe.”

Gernot her brother, and Giselher the youth, both came and found Siegfried dead; they mourned for him truly, and their eyes were blind with tears. They wept for Kriemhild’s husband from their hearts.

It was time to sing mass, and men and women flocked from all quarters. Even they that missed him little mourned with the rest.

Gernot and Giselher said, “Comfort thee, sister, for the dead, for so it must needs be now. We will make it good to thee while we live.” But comfort her could none.

His coffin was ready by the middle of the day, and they lifted the dead man from the bier whereon he lay, but the queen would not let them bury him yet. All his folk must first toil sore.

They wound him in a rich cloth. Not one, I ween, was there that wept not. Uta, the noble queen and all her women wailed bitterly for Siegfried.

When the folk heard they sang the requiem, and that Siegfried was in his chest, they crowded thither, and brought offerings for his soul. Amidst of his enemies, he had good friends enow.

Then poor Kriemhild said to her chamberlain, “For my sake, stint not thy labour. For Siegfried’s soul, divide his wealth among them that were well minded to him, and are true to me.”

The smallest child, if he understood all, must go with its offering or he was buried. They sang at the least an hundred masses a day. And great was the press among Siegfried’s friends.

When they had done singing, the folk rose and departed; but Kriemhild said, “Leave me not alone to watch the valiant knight. With his body lieth all my joy. Three days and three nights will I keep him here, till that I have had my fill of my dear husband. What if God let death take me too? So the sorrow of poor Kriemhild were ended.”

The townsfolk went home; and priests, and monks, and all them that had served Siegfried, she bade tarry. Heavy were their nights and toilsome their days. Many a man neither ate nor drank, but they that desired it were bidden take their fill. Siegmund saw to that. No easy time had the Nibelungs. They say that all that could sing got no rest. What offerings were brought! The poorest was rich enow, for they that had naught were bidden bring an offering from the gold of Siegfried’s own hoard. When he lived no more, they gave many thousand marks for his soul. Kriemhild bestowed lands and revenues over all, on cloisters and holy men. Silver and clothes in plenty they gave to the poor. She showed plain the love she bare Siegfried.

On the third morning, when mass was due, the great churchyard by the minster was full of weeping countryfolk; for they served him in death as dear friends should.

They say that, in these four days, thirty thousand marks, or more, were given to the poor for his soul’s sake, when his beauty and his life were brought to nothing.

God had been served; the song was done. The folk were shaken with weeping. They bade carry him from the minster to the grave, and naught was heard but crying and mourning.

With loud wail the people followed after. None was joyful, neither woman nor man. They sang and read or they buried him. Ah, what good priests were at his funeral!

Or Siegfried’s wife came to the grave, her faithful body was wrung with such grief that they ceased not from sprinkling her with water. None could measure her sorrow.

It was a wonder that she lived. Her weeping women helped her. Then said the queen, “Ye men of Siegfried, as ye love me, do me this grace. Give me, in my sorrow, this little joy: to see his dear head once more.” She begged this so long, and with such bitter weeping, that they brake open the rich chest.

Then they bought the queen where he was. She lifted his lovely head with her white hand, and kissed him. Her bright eyes, for grief, wept blood. It was a pitiful parting.

Then they carried her thence, for she could not walk. And she lay in a swoon, as her fair body would have perished for sorrow.

When the noble knight was buried, they that were come with him from the land of the Nibelungs made measureless dole. Little joy was seen in Siegmund. For three whole days some neither ate nor drank for woe. Longer than that their bodies endured it not. And so they ate and got well of their grief, as many a one doth still.

Kriemhild lay senseless in a swoon all that day and that night, till the next morning; she knew nothing that they said. And in like case lay also King Siegmund. Scarce got the knight his wits again, for his strength was weakened by reason of his great dole. It was no wonder.

Then his men said, “Sir knight, let us home. We may not tarry longer here.”

Eighteenth Adventure How Siegmund Returned Home

Kriemhild’s father-in-law went to her and said, “Let us home to our land. I ween we are unwelcome guests by the Rhine. Kriemhild, dear lady, return to my country with me. That treason has bereft thee here of thy dear husband shall not be avenged on thee. I will stand by thee truly, for love of thy husband and his noble child. Thou shalt also have all the power that Siegfried, the valiant knight, gave thee. The land and the crown are thine, and all Siegfried’s men shall serve thee gladly.”

They told the squires they would away. There was hurrying for the horses, for life was a burden to them among their stark foemen. Women and maidens were bidden seek out their clothes.

But when King Siegmund would have set out, Kriemhild’s mother began to beg that she would remain among her kinsfolk.

The wretched queen said, “That could hardly be. How could I have ever before mine eyes him that hath brought this woe upon me, miserable woman that I am?”

Giselher the youth said, “Dear sister mine, thy duty is here by thy mother. Thou need’st no service from them that have wounded and darkened thy spirit, for thou shalt live at my sole charge.”

But she answered the knight, “It cannot be; I must die of grief but to look on Hagen.”

“Nay, I counsel thee, dear sister, to stay by thy brother Giselher; and I will make good to thee thy husband’s death.”

But the God-forsaken one answered, “Need enow hath Kriemhild of comfort.”

While the youth besought her so kindly, Uta and Gernot began to pray her, and her faithful kinsmen also, that she should tarry, for she had few kinsmen among Siegfried’s men.

“They are all strangers to thee,” said Gernot, “and however strong a friend may be, one day he must die. Consider it, dear sister, and take comfort and stay here by thy kinsfolk. It were better for thee.”

So she promised Giselher she would remain there.

The horses were led out for Siegmund’s men, for they were ready to ride back to the land of the Nibelungs; and their harness was laid on the sumpters.

Then went Siegmund to Kriemhild, and said to her, “Siegfried’s men wait by their horses. Let us away, for it irketh me here by the Burgundians.”

Kriemhild answered, “They that are faithful among my kinsfolk counsel me to abide here with them. I have no kinsmen in the Nibelung land.”

Siegmund was woeful when he heard this from Kriemhild, and he said, “Let none tell thee that. Before all my kinsmen shalt thou wear the crown, and have dominion as aforetime; no man shall avenge on thee the loss of the hero. Come with us for thy little child’s sake. Leave it not an orphan. When thy son is grown to a man he shall comfort thee; and meanwhile many a bold knight and good shall serve thee.”

But she answered, “My lord Siegmund, I cannot go. Whatso come of it, I must tarry here with my kinsfolk, who will help me to mourn.”

The warriors liked not the news, and they said with one accord, “Then might we bewail our wrong indeed, if thou shouldst abide here by our foemen. Heroes never rode to a sorrier hightide.”

“Depart without fear, and in God’s keeping. I will see that ye come well escorted to your land. I commend my dear child to your care.”

When they saw plain that she would not go, Siegmund’s men all fell to weeping. How right piteously Siegmund parted from Kriemhild! His grief was bitter, and he said, “Woe is me for this hightide! Never yet hath such evil befallen a king and his men at a feast. They shall see us no more in Burgundy.”

Siegfried’s men said openly, “Nay, we might well ride hither again if we knew who had murdered our master. Among his kinsmen they have stark foes enow.”

Siegmund kissed Kriemhild, and spake dolefully when he saw she would tarry, “We fare home joyless to our land. Now, for the first time, I know all my sorrows.”

They rode, without an escort, from Worms across the Rhine. Well might the Nibelungs fear nothing from the assault of foemen, with their own strong hand to guard them.

They took leave of none; but Gernot and Giselher went to them lovingly, for they grieved for their loss, and told them so.

Gernot said courteously, “God in Heaven knoweth that I had no blame in Siegfried’s death; neither was it told me, that any here bare him malice. With true heart I sorrow for him.”

Giselher the youth gave them good escort. He brought the king and his knights home to the Netherland without further mischance.

How it fared with them after, I cannot tell. But Kriemhild was ever heard mourning, and none comforted her save Giselher—he was true and good.

Fair Brunhild sat misproud, and recked little how Kriemhild wept. She was never kind to her again. Also to her, afterward, Kriemhild caused bitter heart’s dole.

Nineteenth Adventure How the Nibelung Hoard Came to Worms

When noble Kriemhild was widowed, Count Eckewart stayed by her in Burgundy with his men, as honour bade him, and served his mistress with goodwill till his death.

At Worms, by the minster, they gave her a room, wide and high, rich and spacious, where she sat joyless with her attendants. To church she went often and gladly. Since her dear one was buried, how seldom she failed there! She went thither sorrowfully every day, and prayed to great God for his soul. Faithfully and without stint the knight was mourned.

Uta and her women ceased not to comfort her. But her heart was wounded so deep that she could not be cheered. She sorrowed for Siegfried more than wife ever did for husband. Her great love appeared therein, and she mourned him to the end, while her life endured. Strong and true she took vengeance at the last.

So she remained (I say sooth) till the fourth year after her husband’s death, and had spoken no word to Gunther, nor once, in the whole of that time, had looked on Hagen, her foe.

Then said Hagen of Trony, “Couldst thou contrive that thy sister took thee to friend again? So would the Nibelung gold come into this land. Thou mightest win much thereof for thyself, if the queen were appeased.”

“We will try it,” answered the king. “I will send my brothers thither, that haply they may prevail upon her to do it gladly.”

But Hagen said, “I doubt that will never be.”

Gunther sent Ortwin and the Margrave Gary to the court. When that was done, they brought Gernot, and Giselher the youth. And on friendly wise they essayed it with Kriemhild.

Bold Gernot of Burgundy said, “Lady, thou mournest Siegfried’s death too long. The king will prove to thee that it was not he that slew him. Evermore thou art heard wailing bitterly.”

She said, “No one blameth the king. Hagen’s hand slew him, and from me he discovered where he should stab. How could I know he hated him? Good care had I taken then not to betray his beautiful body, and had not needed now to weep, wretched woman that I am. I will never be the friend of them that did it.”

Then began Giselher, the valiant man, to entreat her.

She said, “Ye give me no peace. I must greet him, but great is your blame therein, for without fault of mine the king hath brought on me bitter heart’s dole. With my mouth I may pardon him, but with my heart, never.”

“After this it will be better,” thought her friends. “What if he so entreat her that she grow glad again?”

“He may yet make it good to her,” said Gernot, the warrior.

And the sorrowful woman said, “See, I will do as ye desire; I will greet the king.”

When they told him that, the king went with his best friends to her. But Hagen durst not come before her. Well he knew his guilt, and that he had done her a wrong.

Since she had hid her hate to him, Gunther deemed it well to kiss her. If he had not wrought her such woe, he might have gone often and boldly into her presence.

Friends were never reconciled with so many tears, for her wrongs weighed heavy on her heart. She forgave them all, save the one man, for none but Hagen had slain him.

Soon after, they contrived that Kriemhild won the great hoard from the land of the Nibelungs, and brought it to the Rhine. It was her marriage-morning gift, and rightly hers. Giselher and Gernot went for it. Kriemhild sent eighty hundred men to fetch it from where it lay hid, and where Albric with his nearest kinsmen guarded it.

When they saw the men of the Rhine come for the treasure, bold Albric spake to his friends, “We dare not refuse her the treasure, for it is the noble queen’s wedding gift. Yet we had never parted with it, if we had not lost with Siegfried the good _Tarnkappe_. At all times it was worn by fair Kriemhild’s husband. A woeful thing hath it proved for Siegfried that he took from us the _Tarnkappe_, and won all this land to his service.”

Then the chamberlain went and got the keys. Kriemhild’s men and some of her kinsmen stood before the mountain. They carried the hoard to the sea, on to the ships, and bare it across the waves from the mountain to the Rhine.

Now hear the marvels of this treasure. Twelve wagons scarce carried it thence in four days and four nights, albeit each of them made the journey three times. It was all precious stones and gold, and had the whole world been bought therewith, there had not been one coin the less. Certes, Hagen did not covet it without cause.