Before the hill they landed,
in sight of the leafy grove;
Wary to be, and daring,
them did it now behoove.
First they dropped their anchors,
deep the waters under;
In a lonely spot were they hidden,
where none could see, nor at their coming wonder.
Then from the ships, to rest them,
they stepped upon the beach.
Hey! what they had longed for
was now within their reach!
A stream of pure, cold water,
through the fir-trees flowing,
Ran down the wooded hillside,
upon the wave-worn knights new life bestowing.
While the weary warriors
were resting and asleep,
Irold soon had clambered,
there his watch to keep,
Into a tree high-branching.
He then began to ponder
Which way they should be taking;
and, lo! the Norman land he saw with wonder.
“Now, my youths, be merry!”
thus cried the youthful knight.
“My cares indeed are lightened,
for now I have in sight
Seven lofty palaces,
with roomy halls wide-spreading;
Before to-morrow’s midday,
the land of Normandy shall we be treading.”
Then said the wise old Wâ-te:
“Up to the sands now bear
All your shields and weapons,
whate’er in fight you wear.
Let every one be busy,
and let the youths be hastened;
At once lead out the horses;
helmets and breastplates must with straps be fastened.
“And now, if any outfits
are not good to wear,
Nor meet for you in fighting,
to that I’ll give my care.
The queen, my lady Hilda,
has sent with us already
Full five hundred breastplates;
these will we give to any who are needy.”
Quickly were the horses
forth on the sea-beach led;
And all the showy horse-cloths,
that should on them be spread,
Were by the men unfolded,
and laid on steeds in waiting,
To see which best beseemed them;
and each then took the one he deemed most fitting.
In leaping, and in galloping
up and down the shore,
They rode, and watched the horses;
many, strong before,
Now were dull and sluggish,
nor longer quick at running;
Too long had they been standing,
and Wâ-te had them killed, as not worth owning.
Fires by the men were lighted;
and good and hearty food,
The best that could be met with
so near the shore and flood,
By the tired and hungry wanderers
soon was cooked and eaten.
They had not hoped beforehand
that rest like this their toilsome life would sweeten.
Throughout the night they rested,
till dawn of the coming day.
To Ortwin Wâ-te and Fru-te
each his mind did say;
Talking aside on the seashore,
many a threat was spoken
Against their Norman foemen,
who into the Hegeling castle erst had broken.
“Men must we now be sending,”
to them young Ortwin said,
“Who shall tidings bring us,
if they be not yet dead,
About my long-lost sister
and many a homeless maiden;
For when on them I’m thinking,
my heart is heavy, oft with sorrow laden.”
Together they bethought them,
whom they hence should send,
By whom the news they wished for
might with truth be gained,
And who could tell them rightly
where to find the maiden;
By them, too, must the errand
on which they came, from foes be wisely hidden.
Then spake the youthful Ortwin,
who from Ortland came,
A faithful knight as any:
“Myself for the search I name;
The maid, Gudrun, is my sister,
child of my father and mother;
Of all, however worthy,
am I more fit to go than any other.”
Then spake the kingly Herwic:
“I too will go with thee;
To live or die I am ready,
seeking the maid to free.
To you she is a sister,
but to me for a wife they gave her;
To her am I ever faithful,
nor for a day uncared-for will I leave her.”
Then quoth Wâ-te angrily:
“ ’Tis childish thus to speak,
Brave and chosen warriors:
such risks you should not seek,
And this for truth I tell you.
Spurn you not my warning;
Should you be found by Hartmut,
you’ll on his gallows hang, your rashness mourning.”
To him King Herwic answered:
“Though good or ill betide,
Friends should aye be friendly,
standing side by side.
I and my friend, young Ortwin,
will ne’er the task give over,
Whatever shall befall us,
and search will make till we Gudrun recover.”
When now upon this errand
both were bent to go,
They sent for friends and kinsfolk,
and did their wishes show.
They bade them to be faithful,
and said the oaths then taken
Must never be forgotten,
and they who went must never be forsaken.
“Of your pledges I remind you,”
the youthful Ortwin said:
“If we, by foemen taken,
should be in bondage led,
You with gold must free us,
and so our bonds must loosen;
Lands must you sell and castles,
nor ever sorrow feel that thus you’ve chosen.
“And, warriors brave, now hearken
to what we more will say;
If foes our life begrudge us,
and us in fight shall slay,
Be not our death forgotten,
let it on them be wroken:
Your swords in Hartmut’s kingdom
must make your daring there be loudly spoken.
“This we further bid you,
my good and well-born knights:
E’en though, with toil the hardest,
every warrior fights,
Let not those homeless maidens
be by you forsaken;
Until the strife is settled,
let not their hope and trust in you be shaken.”
Their faith then freely pledging,
each gave to the king his hand;
And all the best among them
swore that home and land
They nevermore would look on,
but still afar would tarry,
Until again to their homesteads
they from the Norman land the maids should carry.
All of them were faithful,
but yet were weeping sore;
They feared the hate of Ludwig,
and ills for them in store.
That they could send no others
they were deeply mourning;
And all were sadly thinking,
“No one now can death from them be turning.”
All day they talked together;
it now was near its end:
The sun, that low was sinking,
thro’ clouds its beams did send:
Erelong it sank o’er Gulstred,
and there at last was hidden.
Ortwin and Herwic tarried,
that night to go, by the waning light forbidden.