After they long had waited,
now saw these washers lone
Two in a boat fast nearing;
others were there none.
Then said the maiden, Hildeburg,
unto Gudrun, the lady:
“These two are sailing hither;
perhaps the friends sent here are come already.”
She, full of sorrow, answered:
“Ah, woe is me, poor maid!
Although, in truth I’m happy,
I yet am also sad.
If at the seaside washing
Queen Hilda’s men shall see us,
Standing thus barefooted,
we from the shame of this can never free us.
“A poor, unhappy woman,
I know not what to do:
Hildeburg, my dearest,
your mind now let me know;
To hide me were it better,
or shall I stay to shame me
When they shall find me toiling?
Rather would I that they a drudge should name me.”
Then said the maiden Hildeburg:
“E’en how it stands you see;
A thing that is so weighty
you should not leave to me,
Whate’er you think the better,
your choice will I be sharing;
With you I’ll stay forever,
both good, and ill together with you bearing.”
Then from the water turning,
both fled away in haste;
But now the boat of the sailors
had neared the land so fast,
They saw the lovely washers,
away from the seashore hieing,
And at once bethought them
that they for shame away from the clothes were flying.
They called unto the maidens,
as they sprang upon the beach:
“Whither so fast are you fleeing,
fair washers, we beseech?
We are far-off wanderers,
as well our looks are showing;
Your linen may be stolen,
if you leave it here, and from us in haste are going.”
They kept their way still swiftly,
as if they heard it not:
But yet the boisterous shouting
had reached their ears, I wot.
The bold and knightly Herwic
too roughly bade them hear him,
For he not yet mistrusted
’twas his betrothed that now he saw so near him.
Cried Herwic, lord of Sealand:
“Maidens fair and young,
Tell us now, we pray you,
to whom these clothes belong.
We ask you in all honor,
by the faith to maidens owing,
Most fair and lovely ladies,
that back to the shore you will again be going.”
Gudrun, the maid, then answered:
“It were a shame, forsooth,
Since to the trust of woman
you give your pledge in truth,
Were I of this unworthy,
nor faith in you were showing:
To the shore we back will hasten,
although my eyes with tears are overflowing.”
They, in their smocks, came nearer;
both with the sea were wet.
Before that time, the maidens
were always clean and neat;
Now the wretched drudges
with cold and frost were quaking;
Little of late had they eaten,
and with the March-like winds were chilled and shaking.
The time had come already
for snows to melt away,
And, with each other vying,
the little birds, each day,
Again their songs would warble,
as soon as March was ended;
But in the snow, and ice-cold,
the maids were found forlorn, and unbefriended.
Stiff were their locks and frosted,
when they now drew near;
However well and carefully
they had smoothed their hair,
It now was tossed and tumbled
by the wind so wildly blowing:
Hard bestead were the maidens,
toiling there, whether it rained or was snowing.
The ice was loose and broken,
floating everywhere
Upon the sea before them.
The maids were filled with care;
Pale were now their bodies,
e’en as the snow around them,
By their scanty clothes scarce hidden.
Sad was the lot in which the knights had found them.
Then the high-born Herwic
a kind “Good-morning” bade
To the sad and homeless maidens;
of this sore need they had,
For oft their keeper, Gerlind,
had them with harshness taunted.
To hear “Good-morning,” “Good-evening,”
was now to the maids but very seldom granted.
Then said the youthful Ortwin:
“I beg you say to me
To whom belongs this clothing,
that on the sands I see?
For whom are you here washing?
You both are so comely showing,
Who can this shame have done you?
May God bring low the man such outrage doing!
“So fair are you and lovely,
you well might wear the crown;
If all that is your birthright
you now could call your own,
You would, in truth, be worthy
to be with ladies seated.
Has he for whom you are toiling
more such washers fair so foully treated?”
To him the lovely maiden
in greatest sorrow spoke:
“Many he hath beside us
who fairer still do look.
All that you list now ask us;
yet, with eye unsleeping,
One from the leads doth watch us,
who ne’er will forgive the talk with you we’re keeping.”
“Be not at this uneasy,
but deign our gold to take,
And with it these four arm-bands.
These your reward we make,
If you, most lovely ladies,
of speech will not be wary;
To you we give them gladly,
if of the truth we seek you be not chary.”
“God leave to you your arm-bands,
albeit you we thank;
Nought for hire may you give us,”
quoth the lady high in rank.
“Ask what you will, but quickly,
for we must hence be going;
If we were seen here with you,
nothing but sorrow should we then be knowing.”
“We beg you first to tell us
who this land doth own?
Whose are the castles also?
By what name is he known
Who leaves you without clothing,
low tasks upon you laying?
He may of his worth be boastful;
that he doeth well no man may now be saying.”
To him Gudrun thus answered:
“Hartmut is one of the lords
To whom these lands owe fealty.
His castles well he guards,
With Ludwig, king of the Normans,
who is Hartmut’s father:
And many knightly vassals,
to keep their lands from foes, they round them gather.”
“Gladly would we see them,”
said Ortwin, the friendly knight;
“Happy were I, fair lady,
if we could learn aright
Where, within their kingdom,
we might those kings be meeting,
We bring to them an errand;
as henchmen of a king, we bear his greeting.”
Gudrun, the high-born lady,
thus to the warrior spake:
“This very morning early,
ere yet they were awake,
I left them in their castle;
in their beds they slumbered.
I know not if thence they have ridden:
their men, I think, full forty hundred numbered.”
Again King Herwic asked her:
“To us yet further tell,
Why is it such brave princes
in fear like this should dwell,
That they so many warriors
always should be needing?
Had I that band of fighters,
to gain a kingdom I would them be leading.”
To him Gudrun thus answered:
“Of that we nothing know;
And where their lands are lying,
that neither can we show:
But from the Hegeling kingdom,
although it is not near them,
They fear that harm awaits them
from foes who soon may come, who hatred bear them.”
Trembling, cold, and shivering,
the maids before them stood;
Then the knightly Herwic
spake, in kindly mood:
“I would, most lovely ladies,
if we might be so daring,
And if no shame it gave you,
that on the shore our cloaks you would be wearing.”
Hilda’s daughter answered:
“May God your kindness bless;
We cannot take your mantles,
but we thank you none the less.
No eye shall ever see me
manly clothing wearing.”
If only the maidens knew it,
much greater ills would they yet be often bearing.
Oft the eyes of Herwic
did on the maiden rest;
To him she seemed most comely,
and her bearing was the best.
For all her heavy sorrows
sighs in his heart were wakened;
And to one erst thought of kindly,
from him long taken, he the maiden likened.
Then spake again young Ortwin,
who was of Ortland king:
“Can either of you ladies
tidings whatever bring
Of a band of homeless maidens
who to this land were carried?
Gudrun was one among them,
and gladly would we learn where she has tarried.”
To him the maiden answered:
“To me is that well known;
A maiden throng came hither
in days now long bygone:
They to this far-off kingdom
by fighters bold were taken;
And full of heavy sorrow
came these maids forlorn, of hope forsaken.
“The maid whom you are seeking
I know,” she said, “full well;
I here have seen her toiling,
this for a truth I tell.”
She was herself the maiden
who was by Hartmut stolen,
Gudrun, Queen Hilda’s daughter,
and all she told had erst herself befallen.
Then spake the knightly Herwic:
“Ortwin, list to me:
If fair Gudrun, your sister,
yet alive may be,
In any land whatever,
for us on earth still watching,
This must be that lady;
ne’er have I seen two maids so nearly matching.”
To him then said young Ortwin:
“The maid in truth is fair,
But to my long-lost sister
no likeness doth she bear.
The days are not forgotten
when we were young together;
Should I rove the whole world over,
so fair as she I ne’er could find another.”
When now Gudrun, who listened,
heard the name of the man,
That his friend did call him Ortwin,
she looked at him again:
For she indeed were happy
if she were thus befriended,
And found in him a brother,
for then her cares were o’er and her sorrows ended.
“However they may call you,
a worthy knight are you:
A man in all things like you
in days of yore I knew;
The name of Herwic bore he,
in Sealand was his dwelling.
If that brave knight were living,
to loose us from our bonds he were not failing.
“I am one of the maidens
whom Hartmut’s warriors stole,
And bore across the waters,
in thraldom sorrowful.
Gudrun you here are seeking,
but need not thus have hasted;
The queenly Hegeling maiden
at last is dead, with toil and hardship wasted.”
The eyes of Ortwin glistened,
filling fast with tears;
Nor was it without weeping
that now King Herwic hears
The tidings to them given—
that fair Gudrun, their lady,
From them by death was taken;
at this their heavy hearts to break were ready.
When both, before her weeping,
were seen by the homeless maid,
With eyes upon them fastened,
thus to them she said:
“It seems to me most likely,
by the mood that you are wearing,
That to Gudrun, the maiden,
you worthy knights are love and kinship bearing.”
To her young Herwic answered:
“Yes, for the maid, forsooth,
I shall pine till life be ended;
to me she gave her troth,
And to me, in wedlock plighted,
with faithful oaths was given:
Since then, by the craft of Ludwig,
her have I lost, by him from her birthland riven.”
Then said the sorrowing maiden:
“Your words would me mislead,
For men have often told me
that Herwic long is dead.
No bliss on earth were greater,
that God to me were granting,
Could I learn that he is living;
a friend to lead me hence were then not wanting.”
Then said the knightly Herwic:
“Upon my hand now look;
Know you this ring I am wearing?
Mine is the name you spoke;
With this were we betrothèd:
to Gudrun I am faithful ever,
And if you were my loved one,
I would lead you hence, and would forsake you never.”
Upon his hand then looking,
a ring there met her sight,
Set with a stone from Abalie,
in gold that glittered bright;
Never her eyes had rested
on one more rich or fairer.
Gudrun, the queenly maiden,
of this same ring had whilom been the wearer.
The happy maiden, smiling,
with words her bliss did show:
“Of this I once was owner,
and well the ring I know.
Look upon this I am wearing;
’twas the gift of my early lover,
While I, a gladsome maiden,
still dwelt at home, nor stepped its borders over.”
He, on her hand now gazing,
upon the ring did look;
Then unto the maiden
the knightly Herwic spoke:
“That a queenly mother bore thee,
I see by many a token;
After my heavy sorrows,
a blessed sight upon my eyes has broken.”
Then in his arms he folded
the fair and high-born maid:
For all they told each other
they were both glad and sad.
He kissed the maiden fondly,
how oft I cannot reckon;
So, too, he greeted Hildeburg,
showing his love to both the maids forsaken.
Then the youthful Ortwin
begged the maid to say
Whether to do her task-work
there was no other way
Than, standing by the seaside,
all day to wash the clothing?
At this she greatly sorrowed,
and felt for her work the deepest shame and loathing.
“Tell me now, fair sister,
where may your children be
Whom you have borne to Hartmut,
in his land across the sea,
That all alone on the seashore
to wash they thus allow you?
If here a queen they call you,
the name you bear but little good can do you.”
Shedding tears, she answered:
“How should I have a child?
No love could Hartmut kindle,
that I to him should yield;
And well do all men know it
who near him here are dwelling.
Because I would not love him
I now must toil, and woe my heart is swelling.”
Then spake the knightly Herwic:
“We now can truly say
That we good luck have met with,
on our errand far away;
And nought could have befallen
that for us were better.
It behooves us now to hasten
to free the maid from the ills that here beset her.”
Then said the knight, young Ortwin:
“That may never be.
Had I a hundred sisters,
I would sooner let them die
Than here, in another’s kingdom,
to hide a deed of plunder;
Stealing those from our foemen
whom they by stormy fight from us did sunder.”
Then spake the lord of Sealand:
“This do I greatly fear,
Should our search be known to any,
or if they find us here,
They then may take the maiden,
and her far hence may carry,
And never shall we see her:
’twere best to hide the deed, nor longer tarry.”
Him did Ortwin answer:
“How can we leave in need
Her faithful band of maidens?
So long a stay they’ve made
Here in this land of foemen
that well may they be weary:
Gudrun, my worthy sister,
should ne’er forsake her maids, in bondage dreary.”
To him then spake brave Herwic:
“Is this in truth your mind?
Ne’er shall my well-belovèd
be left by me behind;
To take the ladies with us,
e’en as we can, ’tis better.”
Him did Ortwin answer:
“Here to be hacked with the sword for me were fitter.”
Then said the downcast maiden:
“What have I done to thee,
My dearest brother Ortwin?
Never as yet in me
Was seen such ill-behavior
that I for that was chidden.
For what great sin I know not
am I, my lord, to make atonement bidden?”
“I do not thus, dear sister,
for want of love to thee;
Thereby your band of maidens
I shall the better free.
Only as fits my honor,
hence will I ever take you;
Herwic for your lover
you yet shall have, and ne’er will he forsake you.”
Gudrun was heavy-hearted
as they went on board the boat;
She said: “Woe worth my wanderings!
my sorrow endeth not.
He whom once I trusted,
must hope in him be shaken
That he will break my bondage?
My bliss is yet far off, and my faith mistaken.”
In haste the daring warriors
turned from the shore away.
Gudrun, the maid, heart-broken,
to Herwic called to stay:
“Of me you once thought highly,
but now you hold me lightly:
To whom, in my woe, do you leave me?
Bereft of kin, to whom can I trust me rightly?”
“I do not hold you lightly;
you are of maids the best.
My coming, queenly lady,
hide within your breast;
Again, ere morning lightens,
these shores will I be treading—
For this my troth I pledge you—
eighty thousand followers with me leading.”
As fast as they were able
they hastened then away;
Never friends were sundered
more sadly than that day
Were these from one another;
(the truth to you I’m telling.)
As far as their eyes could follow,
the maidens watched the boat away fast sailing.
Gudrun, the queenly maiden,
her washing now forgot;
Betwixt her bliss and sorrow,
her toil she heeded not.
The harsh and wicked Gerlind,
the idle women spying
Standing by the seashore,
in anger stormed, that her clothes unwashed were lying.
Then said the maiden Hildeburg,
from Ireland, o’er the sea:
“Why do you let the clothing
here uncared for be?
The clothes of Ludwig’s followers
still unwashed are waiting.
If this be known to Gerlind,
yet harder blows from her shall we be getting.”
Queen Hilda’s daughter answered:
“Too proud I am, I ween,
That for the wicked Gerlind
I e’er should wash again.
Henceforth a toil so lowly
in scorn shall I be holding,
For two young kings have kissed me,
they in kindness me in their arms enfolding.”
Then Hildeburg made answer:
“Scorn not that I should teach
Or that I now would show you
how best the clothes to bleach:
We must not leave them yellow,
but carefully must whiten;
Else do I greatly fear me
our backs with blows and stripes will well be beaten.”
Then said old Hagen’s grandchild:
“At last my lot is bright,
With hope and gladness beaming.
If they my back shall smite
With rods, from now till morning,
I trow it will not kill me;
But soon shall those who wronged us
know themselves the ills they chose to deal me.
“These clothes I should be washing
down to the tide I’ll bear,
And fling them into the water,”
said the maiden fair;
“Their freedom I will give them,
even as ’tis fitting
That I, a queen, should do it;
hence they may float away, no hindrance meeting.”
Whate’er was said by Hildeburg,
Gudrun the clothes then took,
That Gerlind her had given;
her task she would not brook,
But far into the billows
she threw them, strongly hurling:
I know not if ever she found them;
they soon were lost to sight, in the waters swirling.
The night was drawing nearer,
and the light began to wane;
To the castle, heavy-laden,
went Hildeburg again.
Seven robes of finest linen
she bore, with other clothing;
Gudrun, young Ortwin’s sister,
with Hildeburg went also, bearing nothing.
When they had reached the castle,
the time was very late.
Before King Ludwig’s palace,
standing at the gate,
They saw the wicked Gerlind,
watching there to meet them:
Soon as she saw the washers,
with words of bitter scorn she ’gan to greet them.
Thus she spake in anger:
“What does this gadding mean?
Stripes upon your bodies
you both have earned, I ween,
Thus upon the seashore,
in the evening light, to wander;
For me it were unseemly
into my room to take you, after loitering yonder.”
She said: “Now tell me quickly,
think you this is meet?
You spurn the greatest princes,
and show them nought but hate,
But linger yet, at nightfall,
with low-born varlets flirting.
Would you be thought of highly,
know you that this your own good name is hurting.”
The well-born maiden answered:
“Why speak of me so ill?
Never have I, poor maiden,
had the thought or will
With any man to tattle,
however dear I held him,
Unless it were a kinsman;
a talk with him I rightfully might yield him.”
“Say you I chide you wrongly?
Hush, you idle jade!
For this, to-night, I tell you,
a reckoning shall be made.
To be so bold and shameless
you then will dare no longer;
Before with you I’ve ended,
your back shall feel that I than you am stronger.”
“In that will I gainsay you,”
said then the maiden proud;
“Again with rods to beat me
you ne’er shall be allowed.
You and all your kindred
in birth are far below me;
You may yet for this be sorry,
if treatment so unseemly you shall show me.”
Then spake the wolfish Gerlind:
“Where is my clothing left,
That, folded in your apron,
you thus your hands have wrapt;
Bearing yourself so idly,
now from toil thus turning?
If I live a little longer,
another kind of work shall you be learning.”
King Hagen’s grandchild answered:
“Down by the deep sea-flood
I left your clothing lying.
It was too great a load;
I found the weight too heavy,
alone to the house to carry.
If never again you see them,
but little I care, the while with you I tarry.”
Then quoth the old she-devil:
“All this shall help you not;
Before I sleep this evening,
bitter shall be your lot!”
Then were tied, at her bidding,
rods from hedges broken;
Gerlind would not give over
the training hard ’gainst which the maid had spoken.
Then strongly to a bedstead
she bade them bind the maid,
And alone in a room to leave her,
where not a friend she had:
There should she be beaten,
till skin from bone was falling.
When this was known to her women,
they all began to weep, and loud were wailing.
Then spake Gudrun, with cunning:
“Now list to what I say:
If I with rods am beaten
thus shamefully to-day,
Should e’er an eye behold me
with kings and princes seated,
And I a crown be wearing,
to you a fit reward shall then be meted.
“Henceforth for me such teaching
’twere best you let alone;
Sooner the king I’ve slighted
shall have me for his own:
Then as queen of Normandy
here will I be dwelling;
And when I here am mighty,
what I will do may no one now be telling.”
“Be this your will,” said Gerlind,
“angry no more I’ll be:
E’en if a thousand garments
you thus had lost for me,
I would, in truth, forgive it;
well you will have thriven
If to my son, young Hartmut,
the Norman prince, your love at last be given.”
Then said the lovely maiden:
“I now would take some rest;
This care and heavy sorrow
my strength doth sorely waste.
Send for the young King Hartmut,
bid him be hither speeding,
And say, whate’er he wishes,
that I henceforth will always do his bidding.”
Those who heard them talking,
straightway to Hartmut ran,
And to the youthful warrior
told the tale again.
Some of his father’s liegemen
there with him were seated,
When word to him was given
in haste to seek Gudrun, who for him waited.
Then said the one who told him:
“Give me now my fee;
Queen Hilda’s lovely daughter
will grant her love to thee.
She bids you now to hasten
at once to her in her bower;
No longer are you hated,
for better thoughts she harbors than of yore.”
The high-born knight then answered:
“To lie you have no need.
If true indeed were your tidings,
well should you be feed;
By me would three great castles
and a hide of land be given,
With sixty golden arm-bands;
while bliss thenceforth my days should long enliven.”
Then said to him another:
“This tale, I know, is true;
The fee should I be sharing.
At court they wish for you;
Gudrun, the maid, has said it.
To love you she is ready;
And if in truth you wish it,
she in your land will be your queen and lady.”
To those who told the tidings
his thanks young Hartmut gave;
From off his seat, o’er-gladdened,
upsprang the warrior brave.
He thought that, in His kindness,
God this boon had done him,
And, with a heart now happy,
he sought the maiden’s bower who love had shown him.
In garments wet there standing,
was seen the high-born maid;
With eyes still dim with weeping,
greeting to him she said.
Forward she came to meet him;
and now so near was standing
That he, in fondness turning,
her in his arms would clasp, towards her bending.
She said: “Not so, King Hartmut,
this you may not do;
For men in truth would wonder
if they should look on you.
Nought am I but a washer;
in scorn would they be holding
You, a king so mighty,
if in your arms Gudrun you should be folding.”
“This will I, Sir Hartmut,
freely to you allow,
When, by my crown, your kinsmen
me as a queen shall know.
No longer shall I scorn you,
when I that name am bearing:
For both will this be fitting;
me in your arms to take you may then be daring.”
Then, with all good-breeding,
he farther off withdrew,
And thus Gudrun he answered:
“Maiden fair and true,
Since now you deign to love me,
richly will I reward you;
Myself and all my kinsmen,
whate’er you bid, will kindness show toward you.”
Then said to him the maiden:
“Such bliss I never knew.
If, after my weary toiling,
I aught may ask of you,
This first of all I wish for,
that I, poor wretched lady,
This night, before I slumber,
may have for me a restful bath made ready.
“And list to me yet further:
another boon I crave;
’Tis that my friendly maidens
I now with me may have.
Among Queen Gerlind’s women
you will find them, sad and weary;
But in their room no longer
those toiling ones away from me must tarry.”
“Your wish I grant you freely,”
the young King Hartmut said.
Then from the room of the women
the many maids were led;
With hair unkempt and streaming,
and scanty clothing wearing,
They to court betook them:
for them the wicked Gerlind nought was caring.
Of these came three and sixty;
on them did Hartmut look.
Then Gudrun, the high-born,
with lofty breeding spoke:
“Behold, my lord, these maidens!
Is it your worth befitting
That they are thus uncared for?”
He said: “No more shall they the like be meeting.”
Then spake the high-born lady:
“Hartmut, for love of me,
I beg that these my maidens,
whom here in shame you see,
May have a bath made ready.
Let now my word be heeded;
You ought yourself to see them
decked in the comely clothes they long have needed.”
To her then answered Hartmut,
of knights a worthy one:
“Gudrun, belovèd lady,
if clothes the maids have none
Erst by them brought hither,
when they their home were leaving,
To them yet other clothing,
the best in all the world, will I be giving.
“Gladly would I see them,
with you, more fitly clad.”
Then by those in waiting
baths were ready made.
Among the kin of Hartmut
chamberlains many were there;
To help Gudrun they hastened,
thinking that later she their hopes would further.
Gudrun and all her maidens
were by the bath made glad;
Then the best of clothing
that any ever had
To all the homeless women
alike was freely given.
The lowliest one among them
might gain the love of a king, if she had striven.
When they their bath had taken,
wine to them was brought;
In all the land of Normandy
none better need be sought;
And soon the weary maidens
the best of mead were drinking.
To Hartmut thanks were given;
to gain such praises how could he e’er be thinking!
Soon the lovely maiden
was seated in the hall.
Gerlind bade her daughter
then, with her maidens all,
To don their clothing quickly,
the finest and most fitting,
If they Queen Hilda’s daughter
wished to see, among her maidens sitting.
At once the well-born Ortrun
clothed her in her best;
To seek Gudrun then straightway
gladly did she haste.
The grandchild of wild Hagen
quickly went to meet her;
When they saw each other,
the happiness of both was never greater.
Each one kissed the other,
’neath a band of gold on her head;
The hue of both was brighter
for the golden light they shed.
Each in her way was happy;
Ortrun’s eyes were beaming,
To see the high-born washer
in finest clothes now clad, so comely seeming.
The poor Gudrun was blithesome,
as we have said before,
That soon her friendly kinsmen
she would see once more.
The maidens sat together,
with playful talk now gladdened;
Whoever looked upon them
might gain a happy heart, however saddened.
“ ’Tis well for me,” said Ortrun,
“that I have lived till now,
When as the wife of Hartmut
you here yourself will show.
To one who loves my brother
gladly will I give her
The crown of my mother, Gerlind,
that I of right should wear did I outlive her.”
“Ortrun, may God reward you,”
thus the maiden spake;
“Whatever you shall bid me,
that will I do for your sake.
You have bewept so often
the sorrows I was bearing,
From you will I ne’er be sundered,
and every day shall you my love be sharing.”
Then with maiden wiliness
spake the fair Gudrun:
“Now you ought, Sir Hartmut,
to send out runners soon,
Through all the Norman kingdom,
to give to friends your bidding,
As many as will hear it,
to come to your palace now, to see our wedding.
“When peace is in your borders,
this to you I say,
Before your host of warriors
I will wear the crown one day.
How many he has who woos me
thus shall I be knowing;
Then before your liegemen
myself and all my kin will I be showing.”
The maid in truth was crafty;
from the castle on that day
A hundred men or over
did Hartmut send away.
So, when the Hegeling fighters
should for him be seeking,
Fewer foes should meet them:
for this was Gudrun their going thence bespeaking.
Then spake the old Queen Gerlind:
“Now, fair daughter mine,
You two must leave each other;
when another morn shall shine,
Then may you be together,
with none your bliss forbidding.”
She left Gudrun, low bowing,
and begged that God would her in his ways be leading.
Then did Hartmut leave her.
All hearkened to her word;
They gave to the maiden cup-bearers,
and carvers at the board:
The high-born lady’s wishes
they bade should well be heeded;
Nor food nor drink she wanted:
busy were they to bring her all she needed.
Then spake one lovely maiden
among the Hegeling band:
“When we on this are thinking,
how from our fatherland
Our foes have brought us hither,
to live unblest forever,
We still are bowed with sorrow;
when in our homes, such woe we thought of never.”
She then began a-weeping,
where sat her lady fair.
When this was seen by others
who stood beside her there,
They felt yet greater sorrow
their heavy hearts now filling.
All then wept together;
but they saw their mistress, fair Gudrun, was smiling.
They thought that now forever
they far from home must stay:
But their lady ne’er was thinking
to bide so long away;
They would, ere four days later,
their freedom all be knowing.
The time had come already
to whisper to Gerlind that they would soon be going.
Beyond her wont a little
to laugh had the maid begun;
For fourteen years now bygone
she never bliss had known.
Of her glee the bad she-devil
quickly now was hearing;
She gave the hint to Ludwig,
for care she felt, and anger past all bearing.
She went at once to Hartmut,
and said: “Oh, son of mine,
List to the truth I tell you!
throughout this land of thine,
All within it dwelling
shall see both strife and toiling.
Why it is I know not,
the fair young queen, Gudrun, is now so smiling.
“I know not how it happened,
or how the news she heard,
But men sent out by her kinsmen
hither to come have dared.
Therefore, knightly Hartmut,
some way must you be choosing,
Lest, thro’ the friends she looks for,
your worthy name and life you may be losing.”
He said: “Be not so fearful.
I grudge it not to the maid
That she, with all her women,
should for a time be glad.
All her nearest kinsmen
far from me are dwelling;
What harm can they be doing?
I need not guard ’gainst ills they may be dealing.”
Gudrun, now over-wearied,
some of her maidens sent
To see if her bed were ready,
for she on sleep was bent;
For a night at least her sorrow
she could now be leaving.
Then went with them most kindly
King Hartmut’s chamberlain, his service giving.
Youths of the Norman palace
before her bore the light;
On her they ne’er had waited
until that very night.
Thirty beds or over
now were found made ready;
Nice were they and cleanly,
meet for Gudrun and many a well-born lady.
On them were pillows lying
from far Arabia brought,
With green, like leaves of clover,
and other hues, inwrought.
Bedspreads on them hanging
were sewed in strips most fairly;
And red as fire was shining
the gold mixed in with silken threads not sparely.
Beneath the silken bedspreads
fishes’ skins were laid,
To make them thicker and warmer.
The fair and lovely maid,
Thither come from the Hegelings,
Hartmut would be wooing,
For he as yet knew nothing
of the harm to him that her friends would soon be doing.
Then said the high-born maiden:
“To sleep you now may go,
All you that wait on Hartmut;
we, too, the same will do.
I, and my ladies with me,
one night at least will rest us;
For, since our coming hither,
freedom from hardest toil hath never blest us.”
All who there were gathered
of Hartmut’s knights and men,
The wise as well as youthful,
thence to go were seen;
They to rest then hasted,
the ladies’ bower now leaving.
Wine and mead unstinted
to the homeless maids were others freely giving.
Then said Hilda’s daughter:
“Now shut for me the door.”
They barred the ladies’ bedroom
with heavy bolts full four:
The room was shut so tightly
that what therein was doing,
However much one listened,
outside he nought could hear, nor might be knowing.
Awhile they all were seated,
merrily drinking wine;
Then said Gudrun, the queenly:
“Dearest maidens mine,
You well may now be happy,
after your heavy sorrow:
Your friends I soon will show you;
on gladsome sights your eyes shall feed to-morrow.
“Herwic, my betrothèd,
did I this morning kiss,
And Ortwin, too, my brother;
you now may think on this.
She shall soon be richer,
and care from her be taken,
Who shall well be mindful,
when night is over, me in the morn to waken.
“You well shall be rewarded.
To us glad days are nigh:
And freely will I give you
castles strong and high,
And with them many acres;
for these shall I be gaining,
If I the day shall witness
when, as a queen, I o’er my lands am reigning.”
They now lay down to slumber,
with hearts all free from care.
They knew to them were speeding
knights full brave to dare,
Who erelong would help them,
and their woes would lighten.
To see them they were hoping,
soon as to-morrow’s sun the day should brighten.