Adventure
XVI
How Siegfried Was Slain
King Gunther now and Hagen,
those knights exceeding bold,
Had treacherously plotted
a woodland hunt to hold.
With lances sharp pursuing
the boar in forest free,
The wild bull and the bear too:
what bolder sport could be?
With them rode Siegfried also,
in honourable mind.
They carried food, too, with them,
and that in divers kind.
Hard by a cool spring was he
foredoom’d to lose his life.
And this was by the counsel
of Brunhild, Gunther’s wife.
First went the bold thane thither
where he Kriemhilda found,
Already on pack-horses
his hunting-gear was bound,
And that of his companions:
to cross the Rhine they meant,
Kriemhilda ne’er before had
such reason to lament.
And then his own belovèd
he on the mouth did kiss:
“God grant that I may find thee,
my wife, safe, after this;
And that thine eyes may see me!
With good friends, till I come
Beguile the time of waiting,
I may not bide at home.”
Now thought she of the secret
she had to Hagen told:—
She did not dare to own it—
nor longer could withhold
The noble queen lamenting
that she had e’er been born!
For thus with grief unmeasured
did Siegfried’s fair wife mourn.
She spake unto the warrior:
“Ah, let your hunting be!
Last night I had an ill dream:
two wild boars I did see
That chased you o’er the moorland:
the flowers grew red as blood.
If I do weep thus sorely,
’tis that I bode no good.
“I have a sore misgiving
that there may be some plot:
Whether some grudge be owed us
for service rendered not,
Which may be bringing on us
dire hate and enmity?
Go not, dear lord, I beg thee
in truth and honesty.”
“My love, in but a few days
again I shall be here.
Nor know I of these people
one who ill-will doth bear;
To me at all times friendly
are all thy kith and kin:
Nor by these warriors elsewise
entreated have I been.”
“Nay, nay, my dear lord Siegfried,
I bode thy fate too well:
Last night my evil dreaming
told how upon thee fell
Two mountains in the valley;
I saw thee never more.
If thou wilt thus forsake me,
’twill wound me to the core.”
His wife so good and loving
he in his arms did press,
And cherish’d her fair body
with kisses numberless;
Then took his last leave of her,
and tore himself away;
Alas, no more she saw him
alive after that day!
Now rode they forth and came to
a deep and shady wood,
For sake of sport, and many
a warrior bold and good
Did follow after Gunther
and with his sportsmen roam.
But Giselher and Gernot,
they two remained at home.
And many horses, laden
with stores of bread and wine
Provided for the huntsmen,
went forward o’er the Rhine;
Both fish and flesh they carry,
and many another cate
Such as a king so wealthy
might duly have to eat.
They ordered their encampment,
these hunters proud, hard by
The greenwood’s skirts, where mostly
the quarry’s runs did lie
Which they to hunt were minded;
’twas on an eyot broad,
And thither too came Siegfried:
as straight the king had word.
The hunters then appointed
the watchers where to take
Their places at the openings.
Then he, the bold man, spake,
Siegfried the ever-stalwart,
“Who leads us through the wood,
To show us where the game is,
ye valiant thanes and good?”
“Suppose we part,” quoth Hagen,
“or ever we begin
To beat about the forest
to see what is therein.
That I and these my masters
may reason have to know
Who are the better sportsmen
that on this chase do go.
“The beaters and the hounds too,
we’ll evenly divide:
Thus each his choice may follow
where’er he please to ride.
Then he who is best sportsman
shall have our thanks therefore.”
So spake he, and the hunters
together stay’d no more.
Then said the noble Siegfried:
“The hounds I value not,
Save but a single setter,
who such a scent hath got
That he the track will follow
where’er the game hath led;
Here’s to a merry hunting!”
Kriemhilda’s husband said.
Thereon an aged huntsman
took with him a sleuth-hound,
And brought the noble hunters
to where much game they found
Without too long a-seeking.
The comrades then did hunt
Whatever broke from covert,
as sportsmen keen are wont.
Whate’er the setter mark’d him,
that slew with his own hand
Siegfried the doughty hero,
who came from Netherland.
His steed so swiftly bore him,
that naught could him outrun;
Praise above all the others
upon this chase he won.
In all he put his hand to
alert he was enow;
Of all the beasts, the first one
that he to death did do
An ox was, strong and savage,
that with his hand he fell’d;
And then he, on a sudden,
a lion grim beheld.
E’en as the hound aroused it
he with his bow let fly,
On which a sharpen’d arrow
he’d fitted hastily.
After the shot the lion
but three bounds further ran;
Whereon his hunting comrades
to thank Siegfried began.
There after he an elk slew,
and then a buffalo,
And then four sturdy bisons,
a savage stag also.
His steed so swiftly bore him
that naught could get away:
Of harts and hinds scarce any
there were he fail’d to slay.
A huge wild boar the sleuth-hound
had routed from his lair,
And when to flee he turn’d him
right in his path was there
The hero of the hunting,
all ready for the fight;
The savage brute did straightway
charge at the valiant knight.
This boar Kriemhilda’s husband
then with his broadsword slew:
The like no other huntsman
so easily could do.
And when he thus had felled him,
they put in leash the hound:
His goodly spoils were talk’d of
all Burgundy around.
Then spake to him his huntsmen:
“If ’tis for us to say,
Leave us, we pray, Lord Siegfried,
a few live beasts to slay!
To-day thou hast made empty
for us both wood and wold.”
Thereat he fell to smiling
that worthy thane and bold.
Then suddenly, on all sides,
were heard great noise and cries.
From dogs and men together
such tumult did arise
That all the woodland echoed,
and eke the mountain-side
For four-and-twenty leash-hounds
the hunters had untied.
Then many a forest creature
must unto death be done,
Since every hunter fancied
that he might be the one
To win the prize for hunting:
but no award could be
Until beside the camp-fire
stout Siegfried they did see.
The hunting, though ’twas over,
was not yet brought to end:
For some, with burdens laden,
to camp their way did wend,
Of beast fells bringing many,
and game a goodly store.
What piles of it for cooking
the king’s camp-servants bore!
Then to the high-born hunters
the king would have it known
That he to dine was ready.
Then all at once was blown
A hunting-horn, right loudly,
that all might know around
That now the noble princes
would at the camp be found.
Quoth one of Siegfried’s huntsmen:
“Sir, I have heard but now,
By sounding of a horn, that
’tis time for us to go
Back to the camp: in answer
I will my bugle wind.”
Then went the loud blasts flying
their followers to find.
Then spake the noble Siegfried:
“Now let us leave the wood!”
His hunter bore him smoothly:
and all in haste they rode.
They startled, with their clatter,
a grisly brute and grim—
A savage bear. Then, turning
to those who followed him,
The thane cried: “Now our comrades
a little fun shall share!
Loose from the leash the setter;
yonder I spy a bear;
I’ll see that he goes with us
from here unto the camp.
He never can escape us,
however fast he tramp!”
They loosed the hound, and swiftly
the bear before them hied.
Then thought Kriemhilda’s husband
close after him to ride;
But to a ground-rift came he,
whereby it could not be;
The sturdy beast made certain
’twas from the huntsmen free.
The proud knight, from his charger,
sprang down upon the sward:
And straight began to chase it;
the beast was off its guard,
And could not now outrun him:
the hero clasp’d it round,
And, in a trice, unwounded,
he held it tightly bound.
The man it was not able
to scratch or bite one jot!
He bound it to his saddle,
then promptly up he got.
Unto the camp he bore it—
a prize of hardihood;
Which all was but a pastime
to that knight bold and good.
How noble was his bearing
as into camp he rode!
His spear was very mighty,
and thereto stout and broad.
Right down unto the rowel
a handsome long-sword hung:
And a fair horn around him
of ruddy gold was slung.
Of better hunting-habit
I never have been told.
In tunic of black velvet
there was he to behold;
A riding-cap of sable,
handsome enough, he wore;
Ay, and what broider’d fillets
he on his quiver bore!
Upon it there was fitted
a cap of panther’s hide,
Because of its sweet odour.
He carried at his side
A bow, such that it needed—
to draw it to the full—
A hand-winch, when another
save he himself did pull.
And then his nether garments
of otter-skin were made.
From head to foot his raiment
with tufts was overlaid.
And, ’mid the sleek fur, many
a thread of golden twine
Of this bold champion-hunter
on either side did shine.
And Balmung bore he also—
a handsome blade and broad,
That was so sharp, moreover,
its edge was never scored
When helms by it were dinted;
and either edge was keen.
Ne’er had that noble huntsman
of gayer spirit been.
Since I have undertaken
the story to declare,
I must tell how his quiver
was fill’d with arrows rare;
The shafts of them were golden,
the points a hand-breadth wide.
Whate’er with them he piercèd,
surely and swiftly died.
So rode the noble hero
in all his hunting gear;
And Gunther’s men espied him
as he to them drew near.
They hurried out to meet him,
and led his horse along.
There lay across his saddle
the bear so huge and strong.
As soon as he alighted
he loosed the binding thong
From off its paws and muzzle;
then yelpings loud and long
Of hounds arose, so soon as
afoot the bear appear’d.
The brute would to the forest:
the folk were fairly scared.
The bear, through all the shouting,
into the kitchen ramp’d:
Hey, how the frighted scullions
from round the fire decamp’d!
The kettles toppled over,
the burning sticks were drown’d:
Hey, what a store of victuals
lay in the ashes round!
Quick from their seats upsprang they,
the masters and the men.
The bear began a-growling:
the king gave orders then
To let loose all the hound-pack,
that in their leashes lay.
Had it herewith but ended
that were a merry day!
With bows and spears provided
they stay’d no longer there,
But off the swift ones started
to follow up the bear.
Yet no one shot: so closely
the dogs were thronging round.
The shouting of the people
made hill and dale resound.
With all the pack behind him
the bear began to race,
But, save Kriemhilda’s husband,
no one could match its pace.
He quickly ran upon it,
and with a sword-stroke slew.
Then to the camp-fire, slaughter’d,
the grisly brute they drew.
And all who saw, were saying
he was a mighty man.
The hunters proud were summon’d,
and then the feast began.
Upon a fair green meadow,
a goodly crowd they sate;
Ha, ’twas a royal banquet
these haughty hunters ate!
The cupbearers still came not,
who were the wine to bring—
No heroes ever better
deserved such offering;
Had there not been in secret
such treacherous intent,
Then free had been those warriors
of all disparagement.
Then spake the noble Siegfried:
“I marvel much hereat;—
Since from the kitchen plenty
of food they send to eat,
Why come not the cupbearers
to bring us also wine?
Let them treat hunters better,
or ’tis no sport of mine!
“I have deserved that people
more care of me should take.”
The king then from the table,
in answer, falsely spake:
“However we have blunder’d
we’ll mend it by-and-by;
’Tis all the fault of Hagen,
who’d have us all go dry.”
Then Hagen spake, of Tronjé:
“My dear lord list to me,
I reckon’d that the hunting
to-day was fix’d to be
Right over in the Spessart,
so sent the wine-flasks there.
If we to-day go thirsty,
next time I’ll take more care!”
Then answer’d the lord Siegfried:
“Small thanks, methinks, are thine!
Seven sumpters’ burden should they
of mead and unmix’d wine
Have hither sent to meet us;
or were that hard to do,
They should have pitch’d our quarters
more nigh the Rhine unto.”
Then spake Hagen of Tronjé:
“Ye noble knights and bold,
I know that here hard by is
a spring of water cold—
Pray be ye not offended—
’tis thither we should go.”
To many a thane this counsel
was fraught with mickle woe.
With pangs of thirst was Siegfried
the warrior sorely smit:
The sooner then the table
he gave them word to quit;
Along the hill-side would he
unto the fountain wend.
Thus what the knights had plotted
drew on towards its end.
The game that had been slaughter’d
by Siegfried’s cunning hand,
They bade men pile on wagons,
and carry through the land.
And everyone who saw it
his praise and honour spake.
Right grievously did Hagen
his troth to Siegfried break.
Whilst to the shady lindens
they were upon their way,
Cried Hagen, lord of Tronjé:
“Oft have I heard men say
That to Kriemhilda’s husband
no one a match could be
When he would show his paces:
ay! will he let us see!”
Then spake the Netherlander
Siegfried, the valiant:
“Now is the time for trying,
if ye a wager want,
From here unto the fountain;
so soon as it be done
The onlookers shall settle
which is the foremost one.”
“Now verily we’ll try it,”
the warrior Hagen said.
Then quoth the stalwart Siegfried:
“If ye come in ahead,
Before your feet I’ll lay me
full length upon the grass.”
When Gunther heard the promise,
how glad at heart he was!
Then spake the bold thane further:
“Yet something more I’ll say,
I’ll carry all the clothing
that I have worn to-day—
My spear and eke my buckler,
and all my hunting gear.”
His sword and quiver bound he
around him then and there.
But they, the king and Hagen,
their upper clothes did doff:
In two white shirts one saw them
stand ready to be off.
As fleet as two wild panthers
they through the clover ran:
Yet at the spring bold Siegfried
came in the foremost man.
In all he put his hand to
he won the prize from all.
Straightway his sword he loosen’d
and let his quiver fall;
Against a bough of linden
he let his stout spear rest;
Close by the flowing fountain
now stood the stately guest.
And herein also Siegfried
did manifest his worth:
He laid his shield beside him
where flow’d the fountain forth,
But, greatly as he thirsted,
the hero tasted not
Before the king had drunken:
base thanks from him he got.
Cool was the spring of water,
and clean, and bright, and good;
And Gunther bent him downwards
to the refreshing flood;
As soon as he had quenchèd
his thirst, away he came;
Then ready was bold Siegfried
and would have done the same.
His courtesy and breeding,
then met with their reward:
For Hagen to the background
withdrew his bow and sword.
Then back again ran quickly
to where he found the spear,
And looked to find a token
the hero’s coat did bear.
And whilst the noble Siegfried
drank of the rippling flood
He stabb’d him through the cross-mark,
and through the wound his blood
Straight from his heart outspurted,
and Hagen’s shirt was wet;
So foul a misdeed never
befell a hero yet.
He left the lance within him
close to his heart stuck tight;
And grimly then did Hagen
betake himself to flight,
As in his life he never
from mortal man did flee.
The stalwart Siegfried, feeling
how sorely smit was he,
All madly from the fountain
in rage and anguish sprang,
Whilst from between his shoulders
a long lance-shaft did hang.
The chieftain thought to find there
his bow, or else his sword:
Then verily had Hagen
not gone without reward.
But when the knight sore-wounded
his sword had fail’d to find,
And saw that they had left him
naught save his shield behind,
He gripp’d it from the well’s side,
and after Hagen ran:
Then vainly to escape him
essay’d King Gunther’s man.
Though he to death was wounded,
so mightily smote he,
That from the hero’s buckler
there fell abundantly
The precious stones that deck’d it;
the shield itself did break;
The noble guest his vengeance
was fain enow to wreak.
Yet by his hand must Hagen
lie stretch’d upon the ground.
So hard, in sooth, his blows were,
they made the glebe resound.
Had he his sword had handy,
then Hagen had been slain.
The wound was burning sorely,
and made him writhe with pain.
His cheeks had lost their colour;
no longer stand could he,
And all his strength of body
was failing utterly;
Death’s sign upon his forehead
in pallid hue he bore:
Fair women soon were mourning
for him with weeping sore.
Then fell Kriemhilda’s husband
upon the flowery sward:
One saw from out the lance-wound,
how fast his life-blood pour’d.
Upbraiding then began he—
forced by his mortal pain—
Those who had thus betray’d him
and treacherously slain.
“Ye perjured, lying cowards,”
the dying warrior said,
“What hath avail’d my service,
since thus ye strike me dead?
To you aye was I faithful:
and thus do ye repay!
Your kith and kin shall suffer
for what ye’ve wrought this day.
“The children born unto ye
shall be, from this day forth,
For evermore accursèd,
for ye have wreak’d your wrath,
And vengeance all too sorely
upon my body done:
Now ye, with scorn and hatred,
all worthy knights shall shun.”
The knights all ran together
to where he stricken lay.
To many a man among them
it was a joyless day.
They who had aught of honour
sore lamentation made.
From all he well deserved it,
this hero undismay’d.
The king of the Burgundians
mourn’d also for his death.
Then spake the dying chieftain:
“Small need is there, in faith,
That he who work’d the evil
should grieve that it be done:
Much blame he hath deservèd:
’twere better left alone!”
Grim Hagen spake to Gunther:
“What art thou weeping for?
For done is our vexation
and all our sorrows o’er:
We shall find few henceforward
who ’gainst us dare to stand.
Glad am I that his kingship
hath perish’d by my hand!”
“ ’Tis easy now to vaunt ye,”
said Siegfried, in reply,
“If I had known beforehand
your deadly enmity,
Alone would I against ye
have well maintain’d my life:
For naught grieve I so sorely
as for Kriemhild, my wife.
“And now must God forgive me,
that I a son did get
Whom folks shall taunt in future
and let him not forget
That kin of his by some one
was murderously slain.
If that avail’d,” said Siegfried,
“right well might I complain.”
Yet once more spake the hero,
in anguish nigh to death:
“If thou, O king most noble,
art willing to hold faith
With any living being,
I fain would now consign
Unto your grace and favour,
that well-loved wife of mine.
“And let her from this profit,
that thou her brother art:
If there is faith in princes,
stand by her with true heart.
My father and my liegemen
must tarry long for me;
Ne’er worse to any woman
could loss of dear friend be.”
All round about, the flowers
were wetted with his blood,
As now with Death he struggled:
nor long the strife withstood.
Alas, the deadly weapon
too well had done its part!
Then mote he speak no further,
that warrior of bold heart.
And when the nobles saw that
the hero was quite dead,
Upon a shield they laid him,
that was of wrought gold red;
And straightway held they counsel
how they might best take heed
From all to keep it hidden
that Hagen did the deed.
Then divers of them counsell’d:
“Woe hath befallen us,
But ye must all conceal it,
and tell the story thus:
‘As Dame Kriemhilda’s husband
alone a-hunting rode,
Some vagabonds set on him
and slew him in the wood.’ ”
Then spake of Tronjé Hagen:
“Myself I’ll take him home,
It matters not to me that
the truth to her should come:
Brunhilda’s mind hath sorely
by her been harassèd,
It troubles me but little
what tears she now may shed!”