Adventure
XXXIII
How the Burgundians Fought with the Huns
Within the door an entrance
thus gallant Dankwart made;
The household folk of Etzel
to stand aside he bade.
The whole of his apparel
bespatter’d was with gore;
A mighty naked weapon
within his hand he bore.
Then loudly Dankwart shouted
before the assembled throng:
“Bestir thee, brother Hagen,
thou sittest all too long!
To thee and God in Heaven
appeal I in our need:
Yeomen and knights together
lie in the hostel dead.”
And he cried back in answer:
“And who hath done it then?”
Quoth Dankwart: “The Lord Bloedel,
together with his men.
But dearly hath he paid it,
that would I have you know.
I smote his head from off him;
mine own hand gave the blow.”
“ ’Tis but a little grievance,”
quoth Hagen of Tronjé;
“Whene’er one has occasion
of any thane to say,
That he by hands of warrior
was of his life fordone,
So much the less fair women
for him have need to moan.
“Now tell me, brother Dankwart,
why all so red ye be?
Methinks that thou art wounded
and suffer’st grievously.
If in the land he liveth
who this on thee hath done,
Except the foul fiend save him,
his life’s as good as gone.”
“You see me whole and hearty;
with blood my clothes are red,
But from the wounds of others
it thus hath happenèd;
And they have been so many
that I have slain to-day,
That verily their number
on oath I could not say.”
He answer’d: “Brother Dankwart,
see to the door do thou,
And let not of the Hunsmen
a single man come through.
I’ll reckon with these warriors,
as need we have, in faith!
Our men-at-arms are lying
in undeservèd death.”
“If chamberlain I must be,”
the gallant man replied,
“To serve such mighty rulers,
I am well satisfied.
I’ll answer for the stairway,
as honour’s dear to me.”
Unto Kriemhilda’s warriors
naught could more direful be.
“It is to me a marvel,”
Hagen thereafter spake:
“What meaneth all the fluster
these Hunnish warriors make?
They think they well could spare him,
who yonder door doth hold,
And hath these high concernments
to the Burgundians told!
“Long time about Kriemhilda
have I been wont to hear,
That she her bitter sorrow
was not content to bear.
Now drink we to her darling!
for royal wine we’ll call!
The princeling of the Hunfolk
shall be the first of all!”
Then the child Ortlieb slew he,
Hagen, that warrior good,
So that from sword-blade downward
flow’d o’er his hands the blood;
The infant’s head was sever’d
and on the queen’s lap fell.
Then rose amongst the warriors
a slaughter horrible.
With double-handed sword-stroke
he dealt a blow at large
Against the man of learning,
who had the child in charge.
His head all in a moment
before the table lay:
In good sooth for the teacher
it was but sorry pay!
He saw by Etzel’s table
a certain minstrelman,
And Hagen in his fury
to fall on him began;
His left hand on the fiddle
he lopp’d off suddenly:
“There’s somewhat thou canst carry
for news to Burgundy!”
“Woe for my hand!” cried Werbel
the minstrel: “wilt thou say
What evil I have done thee,
Lord Hagen of Tronjé?
In all good faith I journey’d
unto your master’s land;
The notes how can I finger
since I have lost my hand?”
But little heeded Hagen,
though he ne’er fiddled more.
He wreak’d within the palace
a vengeance grim and sore
Upon the knights of Etzel,
of whom a host he slew.
Death dealt he in the palace
to people not a few.
The ever-ready Volker
up from the table sprang:
And in his hand right loudly
his fiddle-bow outrang.
Right fearsome was the music
that Gunther’s minstrel play’d;
Ay! ’mid the gallant Hunsmen
what enemies he made!
Upsprang, too, from the table,
the noble rulers three:
They gladly would have stay’d it,
ere mischief worse should be.
But all their wit avail’d not
the rising storm to quell,
When Volker joining Hagen
to such wild raving fell.
When saw the Lord of Rhineland
the fight could not be stay’d,
The prince himself fought also,
and many a wide wound made
Upon his foemen’s bodies,
their shining mail-coats through.
A hand-strong hero was he:
as now all grimly knew.
The stalwart Gernot likewise
was forward in the strife;
Ay! he among the Hunsmen
took many a hero’s life,
A keen-edged weapon wielding—
by Rüdeger ’twas given.
By him were Etzel’s warriors
right grievously bedriven.
The young son of Dame Uté
into the fight now dash’d,
And gloriously his broadsword
right through the helmets crash’d—
To grief of Etzel’s warriors
of the Hungarian land.
There wrought were many marvels
by gallant Gis’lher’s hand.
Howe’er the kings and liegemen
were valiant in the fight,
Above them all right plainly
did Giselher in might
Stand forth against the foemen;
he was a hero good.
Such wounds he dealt, that many
fell weltering in their blood.
The men of Etzel also
stood stoutly to the foe.
There one might see the strangers
go hacking to and fro
With their bright glancing weapons,
all through the royal hall.
And horrid shrieks from all sides
upon the ear did fall.
They who were on the outside
would to their friends within;
But found that at the doorways
small vantage they could win.
Out from the hall right gladly
would they within it fare:
But none of them would Dankwart
let up or down the stair.
Thereby around the gateways
a mighty press arose,
And din of helmets also
beneath the broadsword blows.
And thus the gallant Dankwart
fell into sore distress:
But that his brother heeded,
as bound in faithfulness.
For thereupon to Volker
Sir Hagen cried aloud:
“Now look you yonder, comrade,
how round my brother crowd
The Hunnish warriors closely,
and blows upon him rain:
Friend, go and help my brother,
or we shall lose the thane.”
“That will I do full surely,”
answer’d the minstrelman;
And straightway through the palace
his fiddling he began.
His hand with his stout broadsword
full often music made;
To him the Rhenish warriors
unbounded thanks repaid.
And soon the gallant Volker
to Dankwart came and said:
“To-day no little trouble
hath fallen on your head.
Your brother hath enjoin’d me
to lend a helping hand:
If you’ll look to the outside,
within the door I’ll stand.”
Dankwart the ever-ready
without the gateway stood;
Well guarded he the stairway,
let any come who would.
One heard the clang of weapons
in the bold hero’s hand.
The like, within, did Volker
of the Burgundian land.
Loudly the valiant minstrel
shouted across the throng:
“The hall is closed, friend Hagen,
with bolt and barrier strong.
The door of Etzel’s chamber
is safely barr’d as well:
Two heroes’ hands that hold it
a thousand bolts excel.”
When Hagen, Lord of Tronjé,
knew that the door was fast,
His shield back on his shoulders
the goodly chieftain cast.
First fell he to avenging
the ills upon him wrought:
Of longer life his foemen
had then but little thought.
The Prince of Bern no sooner
had seen how matters went,
And how the mighty Hagen
so many helmets rent,
Than sprang the Amelung ruler
upon a bench: quoth he:
“The liquor Hagen giveth
is vile as drink can be!”
The host was full of sorrow—
good cause had he to rue:
What friends of him belovèd
before his eyes they slew!
And hardly from his foemen
unscath’d himself came he;
In grief he sat—what profit
was it a king to be?
The mighty Queen Kriemhilda
to Dietrich call’d and said;
“With all your manhood give me,
O noble knight, your aid,
By all those princes’ merits
erewhile of Amelung land:
Should Hagen once have reach’d me,
my death were close at hand.”
“And how am I to help you,”
Lord Dietrich answering said,
“Great queen, when I have reason
myself to be afraid?
These followers of Gunther
with wrath so sorely burn,
That I with no one’s safety
can now myself concern.”
“Nay, say not so, Lord Dietrich,
thou noble knight and good,
This day make plain to all men
thy kind and virtuous mood,
In that thou hence wilt help me:
or I am like to die.”
Her fears had brought Kriemhilda
to sore anxiety.
“Can I do aught to help you,
I verily will try;
Since never have I witness’d,
for many years gone by,
To such deep wrath enkindled
so many a warrior good.
Ay! through the riven helmets
I see the surging blood.”
This thane of proven valour
with power began to shout;
Like unto horn of bison
his voice rang loudly out,
Until its strength re-echoed
the wide-wall’d stronghold round.
The mightiness of Dietrich
was great beyond all bound.
When Gunther heard the clamour
proceeding from this man
Above the noise of battle,
to hearken he began.
Said he: “The voice of Dietrich
is to my hearing plain;
I trow that our retainers
some friend of his have slain.
“I see him on the table,
he beckons with his hand.
Ye friends of mine and kinsfolk
from the Burgundian land,
Cease fighting for a season,
and let one hear and see
What to the thane hath happen’d
through them who follow me.”
And when the royal Gunther
besought and gave command,
They, in the stress of battle,
halted with sword in hand.
So great the power he wielded,
not one durst strike a blow
Whilst him of Bern he challenged,
with readiness enow.
Said he: “Most noble Dietrich,
what hath to you been done
By any of my people?
I’m willing, be it known,
Amends and satisfaction
right readily to give.
Were any man to wrong you,
right deeply should I grieve.”
Then answer’d the Lord Dietrich:
“Naught hath been done to me;
But let me leave the palace
with your safe-conduct free,
And get with my retainers
from this fell strife away:
For that I’ll owe you service
assuredly for aye.”
Then unto him spake Wolfhart:
“Why ask ye grace so soon?
That door, I trow, the fiddler
hath not so closely done
But we can force it open
enough to get away.”
“Now hold thy peace,” cried Dietrich,
“the devil thou dost play.”
Then spake the royal Gunther:
“That will I let you do.
Out of this place depart ye,
many be ye or few,
But not a single foeman—
here stay they everyone.
They have anent these Hunsfolk
so basely to me done.”
When Dietrich heard that saying,
he took beneath his arm
The noble queen, sore stricken
with sorrow and alarm.
Upon his other arm he
took Etzel with him then;
There also went with Dietrich
six hundred goodly men.
Then up and spake the margrave,
the noble Rüdeger:
“If any from the palace
be yet allowed to fare,
Who still are fain to serve you,
to us let it be known:
For thus may peace enduring
betwixt good friends be sown.”
Whereto made answer Gis’lher,
of the Burgundian land:
“To you shall peace and pardon
be granted at our hand,
Since you and your retainers
were e’er of faithful heart.
You all shall, unmolested,
hence with your friends depart.”
When Rüdeger the margrave
departed from the hall,
Five hundred men went with him
or more, belike, in all,
Who came from Bechelaren,
liegemen and friends as well;
By whom unto King Gunther
great mischief soon befell.
Meanwhile a Hunnish warrior,
who saw how Etzel went
By Dietrich’s side, to profit
thereby was all intent;
But with his sword the minstrel
fetch’d at him such a slice,
That at the feet of Etzel
his head lay in a trice.
When that the country’s ruler
had got outside the place,
He stopp’d and look’d behind him
towards where Volker was:
“Woe’s me for this dread stranger;
a cruel destiny
It is that all my warriors
must dead before him lie!
“And woe upon this feasting,”
the noble sovran cried,
“For one, by name of Volker,
is fighting there inside
Like to a savage boar,
and yet a minstrel he!
I thank my Lord and Saviour
I’m from that devil free!
“Right evil sound his measures,
his strokes are bloody red;
Ay, and his tunes have smitten
full many a hero dead.
I know not what against us
this minstrel doth attest,
For never have I harbour’d
so downright ill a guest!”
They’d let from out the palace
as many as they chose;
Then from the folk within it
a fearful din arose.
The guests for what had happen’d
a dire revenge would have.
Ay! Volker the undaunted,
what helmets then he clave!
Gunther, the noble ruler,
turn’d at that noise around:
“Hear’st thou yon music, Hagen,
which Volker there doth sound
Amid the Hunfolk fiddling,
who through the door would go?
He hath a blood-red straker
upon his fiddle-bow!”
“It grieves me beyond measure,”
Hagen in answer spake,
“That I before that warrior
a seat in hall should take.
I have been his companion,
as he was likewise mine,
And we shall aye be faithful
if hence we ever win.
“Now mark, great king, how Volker
doth thee and thine uphold
Right willingly he earneth
thy silver and thy gold.
Through steel of hardest temper
his fiddle-bow will smite;
He breaks from off the helmets
their shining crests and bright.
“I never saw a fiddler
so nobly hold his own
As this same warrior Volker
throughout the day hath done.
On helmet and on buckler
his music ringeth clear:
A gallant horse deserves he
and raiment rich to wear.”
Of those of Hunnish kindred
who had been in that hall,
Not one was left within it
alive amongst them all.
Now silenced was the uproar;
for none there were to fight:
Aside was laid the weapon
of every gallant knight.