Thirty-Eighth Adventure — How Dietrich’s Knights Were All Slain
So loud they wept on all sides, that palace and towers echoed with the sound. One of Dietrich’s men of Bern heard it, and hasted with the news.
He said to the prince, “Hearken, Sir Dietrich. Never in my life heard I such wail as this. Methinketh the king himself hath joined the hightide. How else should all the folk make such dole. Either the king or Kriemhild—one of them at the least—have the guests killed through hate. The valiant warriors weep bitterly.”
The prince of Bern answered, “Judge not so hastily, my good men. What the stranger knights have done, sore peril hath constrained them to. Let it boot them now that I sware peace to them.”
But bold Wolfhart said, “I will go and ask what they have done, and will tell thee, dear master, when I know the truth.”
Sir Dietrich answered, “When a knight is wroth, if one question him roughly, his anger is soon kindled. I would not have thee meddle therein, Wolfhart.”
He bade Helfrich haste thither, and find out from Etzel’s men, or from the guests, what had happed, for he had never heard folk wail so loud.
The messenger asked, “What aileth you all?”
One among them answered, “Joy is fled from the land of the Huns. Rudeger lieth slain by the men of Burgundy. Of them that entered in with him, not one is left alive.”
Helfrich was sore grieved. He had never told so sad a tale, and went back weeping.
“What news?” cried Dietrich. “Why weepest thou so bitterly, Sir Helfrich?”
The knight answered, “I may well mourn. The Burgundians have slain Rudeger.”
But the prince of Bern said, “God forbid! That were stark vengeance and devil’s sport. What had Rudeger done to deserve it? Well I know he was their friend.”
Wolfhart answered, “If they have done this, their life shall pay for it. It were shameful to endure it. For oft hath Rudeger’s hand served us.”
The prince of Amelung bade them inquire further. He sat down at a window sore troubled, and bade Hildebrand go to the guests, and ask them what had happened.
Master Hildebrand, bold in strife, took with him neither shield nor sword, and would have gone to them on peaceful wise. But his sister’s child chid him. Grim Wolfhart cried, “Why goest thou naked? If they revile thee, thou wilt have the worst of the quarrel, and return shamed. If thou goest armed, none will withstand thee.”
The old man armed him as the youth had counselled. Or he had ended, all Dietrich’s knights stood in their harness, sword in hand. It irked the warrior, and he had gladly turned them from their purpose. He asked their intent.
“We would follow thee,” they answered. “What if Hagen of Trony, as his wont is, mock thee?” Whereupon Hildebrand consented.
When bold Folker saw the knights of Bern, Dietrich’s men, girt with swords, and coming armed, with shields in their hands, he told his masters of Burgundy. He said, “Dietrich’s men draw nigh like foemen, armed, and in helmets. They come to defy us. I ween it will go hard with us forlorn ones.”
Hildebrand came up while he spake. He laid his shield at his feet, and said to Gunther’s men, “Alack! ye good knights! What have ye done to Rudeger? Dietrich, my master, sent me hither to ask if any here slew the good Margrave, as they tell us. We could ill endure such loss.”
Hagen of Trony answered, “The news is true. Glad were I had the messenger lied to thee, for Rudeger’s sake, and that he lived still. Both men and women must evermore bewail him.”
When they heard he was dead in sooth, all the warriors wept, as was meet. Down beard and chin ran the tears of Dietrich’s men. Right heavy were they and doleful.
A duke of Bern that hight Siegstab, cried, “Now is ended all the loving kindness wherewith Rudeger cheered our sad days. Ye have slain, in Rudeger, the friend of all homeless knights.”
Sir Wolfwine of Amelung said, “I had not grieved more this day to see my father dead. Woe is me! Who will comfort the good Margravine?”
Sir Wolfhart cried angrily, “Who will lead the warriors forth to battle now, as Rudeger so oft hath done. Woe is me for brave Rudeger! We have lost him!”
Wolfbrand and Helfrich and eke Helmnot wept for his death with all their friends. Hildebrand could ask no more for grief. He said, “Grant now, ye warriors, that for which my master sent me. Give us dead Rudeger from out the hall, with whom all our joy hath perished, and let us requite him for all the kindness he hath shown to us and many another. Like him we are homeless. Why tarry ye? Let us bear him hence, and serve him dead, as we had gladly served him living.”
Then said King Gunther, “No service is better than that of friends to a dead friend. I approve the true heart of him that doeth it. Ye have cause to praise him. He hath shown you much love.”
“How long shall we entreat?” cried Wolfhart. “Sith ye have slain our joy, and we can have him no more, let us bear him hence to bury him.”
But Folker answered, “Ye shall get him from none here. Come and take him out of the house, where he lieth with his death-wounds in the blood. So shall ye serve Rudeger truly.”
Cried bold Wolfhart, “God knoweth, sir fiddler, thou dost wrong to provoke us further; thou hast done us hurt enow. If I dared before my master, it would go hard with thee. We may not fight; he hath forbidden it.”
The fiddler said, “He that avoideth all that is forbidden is over fearful. He hath not the right hero’s heart.”
Hagen approved the word of his comrade. But Wolfhart cried, “Give over mocking, or I will put thy fiddle-strings out of tune, that thou mayest have somewhat to tell, if ever thou ridest again to Burgundy. I can no longer, with honour, endure thine insolence.”
The fiddler answered, “If thou spoilest my strings, my hand will dim thy helmet afore I ride back to Burgundy.”
Wolfhart would have run at him, but his uncle, Hildebrand, held him fast and would not let him. “Thou art mad in thy foolish wrath. We should come in disgrace forever with my master.”
“Let loose the lion that is so grim, sir knight. But if he fall into my hand,” said Folker, “I will slay him, though he had laid the whole world dead. There will be an end of his hot answers.”
Wolfhart fell in a fury thereat. He lifted his shield and sprang at him like a wild lion. His friends followed after. But, quick though he was, old Hildebrand came before any to the stair-way, that he might not be second in the fight. They found plenty to meet them among the strangers.
Hagen leapt upon Master Hildebrand. The weapons rang loud in their hands, for it was well seen they were wroth. A fire-red wind blew from their swords. But they were parted in the fray by the knights of Bern, that pressed in amain. So Master Hildebrand turned away from Hagen.
Stark Wolfhart ran at Folker. He smote the fiddler on his helmet, that the sword’s edge cut into the beaver. The bold fiddler struck him such a blow that the sparks flew from his harness. Deadly was their hate. Then Sir Wolfwine parted them. If he was not a hero, there never was one. Gunther, the noble king, met the famed Amelung knights with ready hand. Sir Giselher made many a polished helmet red and wet with blood. Dankwart, Hagen’s brother, was a grim man. All that he ha done afore to Etzel’s warriors was but a wind to what he did now; fell and furious was Aldrian’s child. Ritschart and Gerbart, Helfrich and Wichart, had never spared themselves in battle, the which they let Gunther’s men see. Wolfbrand was undaunted in the strife. Old Hildebrand fought as he were mad. Many a good knight fell dead in the blood before the sword of Wolfhart. Rudeger was well avenged. Sir Siegstab did right valiantly. Ha! how many hard helmets Dietrich’s sister’s son brake to his foemen. Bolder in battle he could not have been.
When stark Folker saw that Siegstab struck blood from the hauberks, he was wroth, and leapt upon him and slew him. Such proof of his skill gave the fiddler that Siegstab died.
Hildebrand avenged him as beseemed his might. “Woe is me for my dear lord, that lieth slain by Folker’s hand! Bitterly shall the fiddler pay for it.” Certes, Hildebrand was grim enow. He smote Folker, that the gleeman’s shield and helmet flew in splinters across the hall. That was an end of stark Folker.
Then Dietrich’s men rushed in from all sides. They smote till the links of their foemen’s mail whistled asunder, and their broken sword-points flew on high. They struck hot-flowing streams from the helmets.
When Hagen of Trony saw Folker dead, he grieved more bitterly than he had done yet, all the hightide, for kinsman or vassal. Alack! how grimly he began to avenge him!
“Old Hildebrand shall not go scatheless, for his hand hath slain my friend, the best comrade I ever had.”
He raised his shield, and hewed his way right and left.
Helfrich slew stark Dankwart. Doleful enow were Gunther and Giselher when they saw him fall in his bitter pains. Yet he had well avenged his death with his own hand.
Albeit many mighty princes of many lands were gathered there against the little band, their prowess had brought them forth alive, had not the Christian folk turned foemen.
Meantime, Wolfhart went to and fro, and hewed down Gunther’s men. He cut his way round the hall thrice. Many a knight fell before him.
Then cried stark Giselher to Wolfhart, “Woe is me, that I have so grim a foe! Come hither, bold warrior, and I will make an end of this. Longer it shall not endure.”
Wolfhart turned to Giselher in the strife. They gave one another wide wounds. So fiercely Wolfhart sprang at him that the blood under his feet spurted over his head.
Fair Uta’s child welcomed Wolfhart, the bold knight, with swift blows. Albeit the warrior was mighty, he perished. Never king so young was so valiant. He smote Wolfhart through his goodly harness, that blood flowed down from the gash: he wounded Dietrich’s man to the death. None save a hero had done it.
When Wolfhart felt the sword-cut, he threw away his shield, and lifted a mighty and sharp weapon, wherewith, through helmet and harness, he slew Giselher. They gave each other a grim death, for Dietrich’s man fell likewise.
Old Hildebrand grieved sore when he saw Wolfhart fall. All Gunther’s men and Dietrich’s were dead, and he went where Wolfhart lay in the blood, and put his arm round him to bear him away out of the house. But he was too heavy, so he must needs let him lie. Then the deadly wounded man looked up from among the blood, and saw that his uncle would have helped him, and he said, “Dearest uncle, no help availeth me. Thou didest better to beware of Hagen, for grim and fell is his heart. And if my kinsmen, my nearest and my best, mourn for me hereafter, say that they weep without cause, for that I died gloriously by the hand of a king. In the fight I have so well avenged me that many a warrior’s wife shall wail. If any question thee, tell him straight that, with my single hand, I slew an hundred.”
Then Hagen thought on the fiddler that old Hildebrand had slain, and he said to the knight, “Thou shalt pay for my teen. Thou hast robbed us of many a good warrior.” He smote Hildebrand, that Balmung, the sword he had taken from Siegfried when he slew him, rang loud. But the old man stood boldly on his defence. He brought his sharp-edged sword down on Hagen, but could not wound him. Then Hagen pierced him through his good harness.
When Master Hildebrand felt the wound, he feared more scathe from Hagen, so he threw his shield over his back and fled.
Now, of all the knights, none were left alive save two, Gunther and Hagen.
Old Hildebrand, covered with blood, ran with the news to Dietrich, that he saw sitting sadly where he had left him. Soon the prince had more cause for woe. When he saw Hildebrand in his bloody harness, he asked fearfully for his tale. “Now tell me, Master Hildebrand, why thou art so wet with thy life’s blood? Who did it? I ween thou hast fought with the guests in the hall, albeit I so sternly forbade it. Thou hadst better have forborne.”
Hildebrand answered his master, “Hagen did it. He gave me this wound in the hall when I turned to flee from him. I scarce escaped the devil with my life.”
Said the prince of Bern, “Thou art rightly served. Thou heardest me vow friendship to the knights, and thou hast broken the peace I gave them. Were it not that I shame me to slay thee, thy life were forfeit.”
“Be not so wroth, my lord Dietrich. Enough woe hath befallen me and mine. We would have borne away Rudeger’s body, but Gunther’s men denied it.”
“Woe is me for this wrong! Is Rudeger then dead? That is the bitterest of my dole. Noble Gotelind is my cousin’s child. Alack! The poor orphans of Bechlaren!” With ruth and sorrow he wept for Rudeger. “Woe is me for the true comrade I have lost. I must mourn Etzel’s liegeman forever. Canst thou tell me, Master Hildebrand, who slew him?”
Hildebrand answered, “It was stark Gernot, but the hero fell by Rudeger’s hand.”
Said Dietrich, “Bid my men arm them, for I will thither straightway. Send me my shining harness. I, myself, will question the knights of Burgundy.”
But Master Hildebrand answered, “Who is there to call? Thy sole living liegeman standeth here. I am the only one. The rest are dead.”
Dietrich trembled at the news, and was passing doleful, for never in this world had he known such woe. He cried, “Are all my men slain? then God hath forgotten poor Dietrich! I was a great king, rich and proud. Yet how could they all die, these valiant heroes, by foemen so battle-weary and sore beset? Death had spared them, but that I am doomed to sorrow. Since this hard fate is needs mine, tell me if any of the guests be left alive.”
Hildebrand answered, “None save Hagen, and Gunther, the king. God knoweth I say sooth.”
“Woe is me, dear Wolfhart, if I have lost thee! It were better I had never been born. Siegstab and Wolfwine and Wolfbrand: who is there then left to help me in the land of the Amelungs? Is bold Gelfrich slain also? And Gerbart and Wichart? When shall I have done weeping? This day hath ended all my joy. Alack! that none may die of grief!”