The kinsmen of King Hettel
upon the sands had left
Many in death’s fast keeping;
never knights bereft
Their homeward way had taken,
hearts so sorry bringing.
Thereafter lovely women
for this, with weeping eyes, their hands were wringing.
Ortwin, the knight of Ortland,
who to the fight had come,
After such shame and losses,
back to fair Hilda’s home
Feared to bring these tidings,
his mother dear to sadden.
She there was waiting daily,
hoping her men would bring Gudrun the maiden.
Wâ-te, fearing sorely,
rode to Hilda’s land;
The others dared not tell her
of the loss on the Wulpensand.
Ill in the storm of fighting,
his strength her men had warded;
Not lightly her forgiveness
he hoped to gain, who thus her lord had guarded.
When the word was spoken
that Wâ-te near had come,
At once were men faint-hearted.
Erewhiles when he came home,
Back from the war-field riding,
it was with war-horns braying.
This he did at all times;
but now they all were still, and nought were saying.
“Woe’s me!” said Lady Hilda,
“what sorrows must we fear?
The men of the aged Wâ-te
shattered shields now bear;
Slowly step the horses,
with armor heavy-loaded.
Some evil has befallen.
Oh! say what harm to the king is now forboded?”
When thus the queen had spoken,
but little time had passed
Ere to the aged Wâ-te
crowds came up in haste,
Who of friends and kinsfolk
tidings now were seeking.
Soon a tale he told them
with which the hearts of all were well-nigh breaking.
Thus spake the Sturmisch Wâ-te:
“Your loss I may not hide,
Nor falsehood will I tell you;
all in the fight have died.”
The young and old together
at this with fear were stricken.
Ne’er was a throng more wretched;
no other woes could one to theirs e’er liken.
“Alas! my bitter sorrow!”
said King Hettel’s wife.
“From me my lord is sundered,
who there laid down his life,
The great and mighty Hettel!
My pride, how is it fallen!
Lost are child and husband!
Gudrun I ne’er shall see, from me forever stolen.”
Then both knights and maidens
with sharpest woe were torn;
Their sorrow knew no healing.
Loudly the queen forlorn
Was heard, throughout the palace,
for her husband mourning.
“Ah, wretched me,” cried Hilda,
“that now to Hartmut’s side the luck is turning!”
Then spake the brave old Wâ-te:
“My lady, end your moan:
Home are they coming never,
but when to men are grown
The youths within our kingdom,
sad days will have an ending;
To Ludwig and to Hartmut
the like we’ll do, our wrath upon them spending.”
Then quoth the weeping lady:
“Alas, that I must live!
Whatever I am owning
I would most gladly give
Could e’er my wrongs be righted.
If but this were granted,
That I, poor God-forsaken,
might see Gudrun again, naught else were wanted.”
Old Wâ-te spake to Hilda:
“Lady, weep no more.
’Tis best that we be sending,
before twelve days are o’er,
To gather all your warriors,
who will help you gladly
To plan a raid on the foeman;
so with the Norman will it yet go badly.”
He said: “My Lady Hilda,
list to what befell:
Erewhile I took from pilgrims
nine ships, and then set sail:
These should again be given
to those we ill have treated;
That when new strifes we’re waging,
a better luck to us may then be meted.”
The weeping Hilda answered:
“ ’Tis best that this be done;
Ever is it fitting
that men for misdeeds atone.
To steal the goods of pilgrims
is a sin not lightly shriven:
For every mark we’ve taken,
to them three marks of silver shall be given.”
The ships were brought to the pilgrims,
as the queen did say;
Not one there was among them,
when they sailed away,
Who left a curse behind him.
For wrongs they found a healing;
And for Hilda, Hagen’s daughter,
they harbored, when they left, no bitter feeling.
Upon the morrow early,
thither to come was seen
Herwic, the lord of Sealand;
soon he found the queen
Weeping for her husband,
who in death was lying.
She gave the knight a welcome,
with hands she ever wrung, and deeply sighing.
Seeing the lady weeping,
then, too, to weep began
The young and lordly Herwic;
soon spake that well-born man:
“Their lives not all have given,
who help to you are owing,
And who would gladly grant it;
though many by their death their love were showing.
“My arm shall never falter,
nor heart from care be free,
Till Hartmut feels my anger,
who stole the maid from me,
And dared from home to tear her,
death to many dealing:
Soon will I ride to his borders;
then will I seize and hold his lands and dwelling.”
His men, though filled with sorrow,
rode towards the town,
Flocking to Matelan castle.
The queen her hope made known
That, whatsoe’er might happen,
their fealty would not weaken;
And, though the worst befell them,
that she by them would never be forsaken.
To her the men from Friesland
and those from Sturmland went,
And from the Danish kingdom
were warriors likewise sent;
The knights of Morunc also,
from the land of Waleis riding,
Thither came with the Hegelings,
to where the fair Queen Hilda was abiding.
Forthwith there came from Ortland,
Ortwin, Hilda’s son;
Then mourned they, as was fitting,
his father dead and gone.
Soon were all the warriors
aside with their ladies speaking,
And talking of the inroad
the fighters strong one day would thence be making.
Then said the aged Wâ-te:
“This can never be
Till those who now are children
fully-grown we see,
And worthy to be swordsmen.
Then, their fathers mourning,
And of their kinsmen mindful,
gladly will they with us to war be turning.”
Queen Hilda then made answer:
“To wait for this were long;
Meanwhile Gudrun, my daughter,
held by foemen strong,
Must in a far-off kingdom
be kept in bondage bitter;
And I, poor queen and mother,
shall know no bliss, and my heart will ne’er grow lighter.”
Then said the Danish Fru-te:
“The maid we cannot free
Until once more your kingdom
shall full of warriors be.
Then, for the struggle ready,
we hence shall ride, unfearing;
And so upon our foemen
shall work the greatest ill with blows unsparing.”
To this Queen Hilda answered:
“That day may God soon give;
But I, unhappy woman,
a weary life must live.
Whoe’er of me is mindful,
and of Gudrun, poor maiden,
Him will I trust most fully,
knowing his heart for us with care is laden.”
They now their leave were taking;
to them the lady spake:
“May he be blest and happy
who thought for me shall take.
’Tis right that you, brave warriors,
to fight for me are ready;
Meanwhile for the coming inroad
do all you can, and therein be you speedy.”
Wisely then spake Wâ-te,
the warrior old and good:
“Lady, we should be felling
trees in the western wood.
Since we to fight have chosen,
our hopes upon it staking,
The men of every princedom
should forty well-built ships for us be making.”
“I too will bid,” quoth Hilda,
“that near the deep sea-flood
Twenty ships be builded,
strong, and firm, and good;
And have them fully ready
—my hest shall well be heeded—
To bear my friends and kindred
to where they for the fight will soon be needed.”
Siegfried, lord of Moorland,
while their leave they took,
With kind and seemly bearing,
thus to the women spoke:
“You have to tell me only
when our time to wait is ending;
To sail shall I be ready,
nor need you then for me be further sending.”
Then to the sorrowing women,
before they spread the sail,
The friendly guests, now leaving,
bade a kind farewell.
The hearts of knights and maidens
deep in woe were sinking;
Yet warlike deeds they plotted
of which their Norman foes were never thinking.
When they at length had ridden
back again to their land,
Sadly they mourned their losses:
then to the Wulpensand,
For the sake of the dead, did Hilda
bid that food be taken
To the priests for them there praying.
The queen was wise, the dead were not forsaken.
There she bade to be builded
a minster fair and wide;
A house for the sick, and a cloister
built they at its side,
Near where the slain were buried.
In many a land one heareth
Its name, and of those there fallen:
‘The church of Wulpensand’ is the name it beareth.