Then to Gudrun they offered
castles strong and lands:
Of these would she have nothing.
So, upon the sands,
She must wash their clothing,
from early morn till even.
Great ill this wrought for Ludwig,
when he with Herwic in the fight had striven.
First, Gudrun was bidden
to leave her seat, that soon
She, the high-born maiden,
should go with fair Ortrun;
They bade that she be merry,
and wine with her be drinking.
The homeless wanderer answered:
“To make me queen you never need be thinking.
“Well you wot, Lord Hartmut,
whate’er your wish may be,
Betrothed am I to another,
and am no longer free.
That I one day shall wed him
has with an oath been plighted;
Until by death he’s taken
I will not wed with any man e’er knighted.”
Then spake the lordly Hartmut:
“You only waste your breath;
By nought shall we be sundered
unless it shall be death.
In friendship with my sister
you should now be living;
Your hardships she will lighten,
and will, I know, her love to you be giving.”
Fain to think was Hartmut
that her unyielding mood
Might now by this be softened;
he hoped, whatever good
Should e’er befall his sister,
the maiden would be sharing:
Thus for both he trusted,
that a happy life erelong would them be cheering.
Gudrun soon greeted kindly
many a friend and maid.
Ortrun sat beside her;
her hue grew rosy-red
With eating and with drinking,
ere many days were ended.
Enough was always ready:
still the poor girl her mood ne’er wisely mended.
If Hartmut thought to greet her,
and spoke in friendly mood,
How little did it cheer her!
She o’er her woes did brood,
That she and all her maidens
in a far-off land were bearing.
Soon, against young Hartmut,
of harsh and angry words she was not sparing.
So long a time this lasted,
the king at length was wroth;
He said: “Gudrun, fair lady,
as good am I in birth
As is the young King Herwic,
who now you think is fitter
Than I to be your lover:
too much you jeer at me, with words most bitter.
“If you would leave your sorrow,
for both of us ’twere gain.
It wounds me out of measure
when any gives you pain,
Or seeks your heart to burden,
or in your wish to cross you:
Though now you are unfriendly,
to be my queen I yet would gladly choose you.”
Then young Hartmut left her,
and straight his men he sought.
He bade them to be watchful
of ills that threatened aught,
And well to guard his kingdom;
for he the while bethought him,
So sorely was he hated,
’twas much to fear some harm would yet be wrought him.
The cross and wicked Gerlind
for her hard tasks did set;
She on a seat but seldom
any rest did get.
Erst ’mong princes’ daughters
men were wont to greet her,
As for her was rightful;
now with the scorned and lowly they must meet her.
To her, in mood unfriendly,
the old she-wolf then spake:
“Now Queen Hilda’s daughter
I a drudge will make;
Although her evil feelings
seem so strong and steady,
We yet shall see her toiling
as ne’er before to do has she been ready.”
Then said the high-born maiden:
“To work with all my might,
With hand and heart, I’m willing;
in this, both day and night,
Will I be always busy,
and every hour be striving;
Since ill-luck begrudges
that I among my friends should now be living.”
The wicked Gerlind answered:
“Now daily to the beach
You my clothes must carry,
there on the sands to bleach.
You must for me and my maidens
be washing and be drying;
And that no one find you idle,
your work with care you ever must be plying.”
Then spake the high-born maiden:
“Wife of a mighty king,
If they will only teach me
the way to wash and wring,
And how to cleanse your clothing,
to do it I am willing.
Bliss no more I look for;
still greater woe my heart must yet be filling.
“Bid them now to teach me,
and I will gladly learn;
So high I do not hold me
that I the task should spurn.
Thus shall I be earning
the food I here am eating;
Nought I say against it.”
The poor Gudrun her lot was wisely meeting.
Then by a washerwoman
clothes to the sands were brought,
And how to wash and dry them
the maiden now was taught.
Much at first she sorrowed,
and by the work was flurried,
Yet was she spared by no one.
So was the fair Gudrun by Gerlind worried.
Before King Ludwig’s castle,
she gained a skilful hand;
For knights who there were dwelling
within the Norman land,
None could be more helpful,
their clothing better washing.
Loudly mourned her maidens
to see her toiling where the waves were dashing.
One there was among them
who was also a great king’s child;
The wailing of the others
was to hers a whisper mild.
This work so mean and lowly
went to their hearts too nearly,
As they saw the high-born lady
drudging on the shore, both late and early.
Then with love true-hearted
Hildeburg made moan:
“Well we all must rue it—
to God may this be known—
Who in this Norman kingdom
erst with Gudrun were landing;
No rest ought we to hope for
while on the sea-beach washing she is standing.”
This was heard by Gerlind,
who in anger spoke:
“If on the toils of your lady
with such ill-will you look,
The work shall you be doing,
and her place be filling.”
“That would I do right gladly,”
said Hildeburg, “if only you were willing.
“For the love of God Almighty,
Gerlind, my lady queen,
Let not this great king’s daughter
toiling alone be seen:
A crown, too, wore my father,
yet work would I be doing;
Let me with her stand washing,
whatever good or ill we may be knowing.
“It fills my heart with sorrow,
I feel her woes my own.
Once the greatest honor
to her by God was shown:
Her forefathers and kindred
were kings, and none were higher;
Though now her work is lowly,
to toil with the maiden I shall never tire.”
Then said the wicked Gerlind:
“This oft will bring you pain;
However hard the winter,
still in snow and rain
My clothes must you be washing,
altho’ cold winds are blowing;
So will you be wishing
that you the warmth of heated rooms were knowing.”
Unwillingly she waited
until the night drew near;
From this Gudrun the high-born
gained at last some cheer.
Then into her bedroom
went Hildeburg in sorrow;
There they wept together
for the work that they must do upon the morrow.
Then the Lady Hildeburg
said to her in tears:
“The woes that you are bearing
my heart with you now shares;
I begged the old she-devil
no more alone to leave you
Upon the sea-sands washing;
with you I’ll bear the burden, and my help will give you.”
The homeless maiden answered:
“May Christ your love reward,
That you with so much sorrow
of all my woes have heard.
If we may wash together,
the days will be the brighter,
And time will seem far shorter,
and on our hearts the shame will weigh the lighter.”
Soon as her wish was granted,
down to the sandy shore
The clothing then she carried,
gladness to know no more.
There must they wash in sorrow,
whatever was the weather;
Whate’er was done by others,
yet still these two must wash and toil together.
When her throng of handmaidens
had time from work to spare,
Bitter was their weeping,
to see her standing there
Upon the sea-sands washing.
Loud were their moans and many,
Nor did their sorrow lessen;
greater woe was never known by any.
Long the toiling lasted—
that is true enough;
There must they be working
full five years and a half.
Clothes for Hartmut’s followers
they must wash and whiten:
Ne’er were maidens sadder;
their toils before the castle nought could lighten.