How Hartmut sued for Gudrun

Life Stories for Young People

GUDRUN

Translated from the German of
Ferdinand Schmidt

BY
GEORGE P. UPTON
Translator of “Memories,” etc.

WITH THREE ILLUSTRATIONS

CHICAGO
A. C. McCLURG & CO.
1906

Copyright
A. C. McClurg & Co.
1906
Published September 22, 1906

THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.

Translator’s Preface

The charming story of “Gudrun” is a romance of the old heroic period, written by some unknown poet of Austria or Bavaria in the thirteenth century. Next to the “Nibelungen Lied,” it is the most important of the German epic poems. Indeed some of the personæ in “Gudrun” are found in the “Lied,” though varying in personal characteristics, probably because they were taken from different legends. The scenes of “Gudrun” are principally laid along the shores of the North Sea and in Normandy. The men and women in this poem resemble generally those in the “Lied.” The same elemental passions are depicted. The men are brave, vigorous heroes, rejoicing in battle and feats of prowess; the women are beautiful, constant, and courageous. There are many fine delineations of character in the original, as well as vigorous sketches of northern scenery. The figure of Gudrun stands out in bold relief among the maidens. There are few more beautiful characters, indeed, in the poems of the old heroic period, and it adds to the charm of the epic that she does not suffer the tragic fate of Kriemhild in the “Nibelungen Lied,” but that her constancy and devotion are rewarded by her ultimate reunion with her knightly lover, King Herwig. There are many serious passages, but from the very first there is the conviction that Gudrun and Herwig, in spite of all the dangers and vicissitudes through which they pass, will in the end be reunited. And so it happens. Gudrun’s name is always spoken by her people with reverence. “Her courage and constancy were extolled by them, and in after days her fame was as radiant as the stars in the heavens.”

G. P. U.

Chicago, July 1, 1906.

Contents

I. [The Maiden and the Princely Suitor] 11 II. [The Contest] 17 III. [Siegfried’s Revenge] 23 IV. [Hartmut Captures Gudrun] 26 V. [The Evil Tidings] 30 VI. [The Battle on the Wulpensand] 34 VII. [Gudrun’s Danger] 40 VIII. [The Reception] 43 IX. [Gudrun’s Test] 46 X. [Ortrun] 51 XI. [Gudrun’s Trials] 54 XII. [On the Wulpensand] 57 XIII. [The Tale of Hagen and the Griffin] 62 XIV. [The Welcome Message] 78 XV. [The Two Knights] 83 XVI. [Danger and Stratagem] 93 XVII. [The Morning] 102 XVIII. [Hartmut Fights with Ortwin and Horant] 110 XIX. [Ludwig Fights with Herwig] 114 XX. [Hartmut Fights with Wate] 117 XXI. [Gudrun and Ortrun] 120 XXII. [Retribution] 123 XXIII. [The Home Coming] 129

Illustrations

[How Hartmut Sued for Gudrun]Frontispiece [Gudrun on the Strand]78 [Gudrun’s Deliverance]126

Gudrun

Chapter I
The Maiden and the Princely Suitor

There once lived in Denmark a mighty King named Hetel, whose fame spread far and wide. His wife Hilda bore him two children, a son and a daughter called Ortwin and Gudrun, who were endowed with such surpassing strength and beauty that as they grew to manhood and womanhood the whole country rang with their praises. Ortwin’s master-in-arms was Count Wate, a hero who loved the strife and tumult of battle better than making merry with fair dames, and from him the young prince acquired skill in all knightly exercises. Gudrun grew up so tall and strong that she too could have wielded a sword with credit had such feats been seemly for a maiden, and when the brother and sister stood side by side, all who beheld them declared no sculptor could have wrought anything half so beautiful.

Princes came from far and near to seek Gudrun in marriage, but her haughty father, King Hetel, sent them all away, some departing in sorrow, others with bitterness and anger in their hearts. Among those attracted by the fame of Gudrun’s beauty was Siegfried, King of Moreland, to whom seven princes did homage as their lord. With a splendid retinue he appeared at Hetel’s court to sue for the hand of the maiden, only to share the fate of all her other suitors. Filled with rage and chagrin he took his departure, vowing never to rest till he had wrought vengeance on the proud monarch.

In Normandy at this time there lived a prince named Hartmut who no sooner heard of Gudrun than he too was seized with the desire to make her his wife. His mother, Queen Gerlinda, gladly assented to his wishes, for she was an overbearing and ambitious woman and longed to see her son distinguished above all the other princely wooers. But his father, King Ludwig, said to him:

“How do we know if this Gudrun be as fair as report paints her? Yet were she the very flower of maidenhood, it would profit thee little, for bethink thee how far our realm doth lie from Denmark! Never would her parents permit their only daughter to go so far from them.”

Hartmut was not to be moved from his purpose by these remonstrances, however, and Gerlinda said: “Let messengers be despatched thither, and I will bestow gold upon them, besides costly apparel.”

But Ludwig, foreboding evil, continued; “King Hetel and his wife Hilda are well known to me. Haughty and overbearing are they both and ’tis like their daughter will prove the same.”

“Be that as it may,” replied Hartmut, “I cannot live if Gudrun be not mine. In truth if I may not win her in peaceful fashion then will I go with an army and wrest her from them by force of arms!”

Gerlinda too urged and entreated the King, till at last he yielded and consented to Hartmut’s making the attempt. “As to an army,” he said, “there is yet time enough for that: let us first see what may be peacefully accomplished.”

Accordingly Hartmut chose sixty knights from the noblest houses in the land, to lay his suit before King Hetel; they set out forthwith, attired in rich garments, their spotless armor shining in the sun, while twelve superb sumpter horses followed, led by retainers and laden with gold and silver. Full a hundred days passed before they reached the borders of Hetel’s kingdom, where they found a warlike people, most of them going about in helm and mail. They asked where the King was to be found and were shown the way to the royal castle, Hegelingen. As they rode up to it the people came flocking about them full of eager curiosity to gaze at the splendid strangers, while the King ordered sumptuous lodgings to be prepared for them.

On the twelfth day they were summoned before Hetel who, seated on a shining throne and surrounded by his vassals, received them graciously and asked their errand. One of the knights stepped forward and delivered to him the letter containing King Ludwig’s suit for his son Hartmut; but scarcely had he learned its contents when his brow darkened and he cried angrily:

“Now, by my faith! doth Ludwig dare to dishonor my crown with such proposals? Let him seek a Queen for his son where’er it pleaseth him, but approach not my throne with his presumptuous desires!”

At these words there was a stir among the Norman knights, and their swords seemed to rattle in their sheaths; but they restrained themselves, and one ventured to reply: “Hartmut is well worthy to be thy son-in-law, O King! for truly there is no braver knight alive!”

Thereupon Queen Hilda, who sat beside the King, lifted her head haughtily and said: “Knowst thou not that thy prince was liegeman to my father, King Hagen, whose fame hath surely reached thine ears? And shall the son of my father’s vassal lead our child homeward as his bride?”

Therewith the knights were dismissed, and the next morning they left the court. Full of hope and impatience Hartmut looked forward to their return, but their appearance, when at last they rode into the courtyard, boded him little good. Reluctantly they made known the answer of Hetel and Hilda to his suit; whereat Ludwig foamed with rage, and Gerlinda burst into a storm of angry tears, but Hartmut asked one of the knights whether the maiden was really so beautiful as it was said.

“In truth, my lord,” he replied, “so fair is she that he who once beholds her must ever bear her image in his heart.”

“Now may God chastise King Hetel for the affront he hath dealt to me and to my house! But for the maiden, she shall yet be mine, I swear!”

These words gladdened Gerlinda’s heart. “Ha!” she cried, trembling with passion, “may I but live to behold her here!”

Chapter II
The Contest

Zealand, the neighboring country to Denmark, was ruled by a young prince named Herwig, who also came to woo the fair Gudrun, but Hetel rejected him as haughtily as he had rejected all the rest. Nevertheless Herwig tarried for some months at the court, where, from time to time, he might behold the maiden; but although he often renewed his suit, the King’s answer was ever the same.

One day a prince arrived at the royal castle followed by a glittering train. He would not give his name, and as he advanced no suit, Hetel received him kindly and prepared a feast in his honor. So it came to pass that he soon found an opportunity of seeing Gudrun, and contrived to make known to her that he was Hartmut, and had come to Denmark for her sake alone. The maiden pitied the gallant young hero, whose appearance pleased her well, though she had no wish to wed him, and she besought him to depart at once, for, should Hetel discover who he was, he would surely slay him. Sorrowfully Hartmut left the court. Yet he did not abandon his purpose, but bent all his energies toward raising an army to revenge himself upon King Hetel.

Herwig was rejoiced when the splendid stranger went upon his way, for he had feared in him a successful rival. Again he would have renewed his own suit; but the King sternly forbade him ever again to speak of it, whereupon he resolved to invade the land with an armed force to prove to the haughty monarch that he too was a mighty prince. Accordingly, on a dark night not long thereafter when all within the castle of Hegelingen lay wrapped in deepest slumber, Herwig landed with a band of stout warriors, and at daybreak the warder on the tower discovered the enemy close beneath the walls.

“‘To arms!’ he thundered from the tower;

The trump the silence broke,

And strident blast of larum horns

The startled sleepers woke.

With flying hair the women all

To one another clung;

Or flocking to the windows, there

Their hands in terror wrung;

While calm in danger, knight and man

To steed and armor sprung.”

When Hetel saw by the device on the banners that it was Herwig who led the foe, he was secretly pleased that the hero should thus seek to win the maid by force of arms. This was after his own heart, and Herwig could not have hit upon a better plan to obtain his favor. With his wife and Gudrun he stood at a window and watched the gallant struggle that was in progress before the castle, expecting to see his knights soon scatter the followers of this fiery wooer; but great was his consternation when he beheld Herwig gaining step by step. Wherever the rejected suitor’s plume waved, wherever his flashing sword circled, there was the fray hottest, and many of Hetel’s stoutest warriors fell before him. Splendid was Herwig to look upon in battle: the helms of all who approached him were lit with fiery sparks, while their armor was speedily adorned with crimson bands. Even Gudrun gazed on him with admiring eyes, terrible as the sight of the battle was to her.

“Now,” thought Hetel, “is Herwig worthy of my sword”; and donning his armor, down he strode, only to find his men being irresistibly forced back within the castle. Already the clash of arms reëchoed from the vaulted ceiling, armor crashed against armor in the onset. Valiantly King Hetel dashed among his knights, but all his efforts were powerless to check their retreat. At last the two princes came face to face, the gray-haired hero of a hundred battles and the young warrior bent on winning equal fame. Blows that would have slain many a stout champion fell thick and fast on helm and shield, yet undismayed and unconquered fast they stood, while sparks shot forth in fiery showers, and links of mail fell tinkling to the stone floor. At last Hetel stepped back a pace and said breathlessly: “He who does not wish me for a friend surely is no good friend,” and therewith rushed once more upon the young hero; and fiercer than ever raged the combat.

Terror-stricken, Gudrun watched them until at last she could bear it no longer. Seizing a shield she hastened down and threw herself between the two knights, whereat Herwig lowered his sword and gazed joyously at the stately maiden.

“Peace, peace! my father, in God’s name!” she implored. “Let the struggle wait until I have asked Herwig where his dearest friend may be.”

“Oh, thou knowest well,” cried Herwig. “But I will give no peace till thou dost grant me leave to speak with thee within the castle. No evil have I in my heart, for unarmed will I enter.”

Accordingly at Gudrun’s desire, the heroes laid aside their arms and entered the castle together in peace. Then Herwig approached Gudrun once more to plead his suit, and Gudrun answered: “What maid could scorn so valiant a hero? Truly, most noble Herwig, there is no damsel living who could hold thee more dear than I, and if my parents do consent, then will I gladly evermore with thee abide.”

Then Herwig besought the King and Queen for the hand of Gudrun and they, turning to their daughter, asked whether this betrothal would be pleasing to her. She replied that she would choose Herwig for her husband before all other men. So Hetel, whose heart had been quite won by the valor of the noble young hero, led Gudrun to him and joined their hands together. Then all the great lords and vassals were summoned to the hall, and in their presence the King once more asked Gudrun if she would have Herwig for her husband.

“Never could I wish for nobler lord,” she answered. So they were betrothed, and a great feast was held to celebrate the joyful event.

When the festivities were over, Herwig wished to take Gudrun home with him as his bride; but Queen Hilda besought him to wait till the following springtime, since her daughter was still so young. In the meantime she would teach her much that it befitted a future queen to know and she would also have time to prepare a rich store of marriage gifts. Herwig agreed to this though with great reluctance; soon thereafter, bidding a sorrowful farewell to his betrothed, he returned to his own land, little suspecting what dire results were to follow the postponement of the nuptials.

Chapter III
Siegfried’s Revenge

The news that Herwig had won the heart and hand of the beautiful Gudrun soon spread to Moreland and filled King Siegfried, still smarting from his own scornful rejection, with deadly hatred against the fortunate suitor.

“Now will I kindle for thee, Sir Herwig,” he shouted, “a wedding torch that shall light thy whole land!”

Forthwith he had twenty ships made ready and filled with chosen knights. Toward the end of May they reached the coast of Zealand, and then began such a burning and slaying as never had been known before. Herwig at once rode forth to meet his fierce enemy, and a long and desperate battle followed. Red was the soil with the blood of the slain and bravely did Herwig and his warriors fight, but at last they were forced to yield to superior numbers and take refuge in a castle near by, where they were safe for a time from the enemy. Siegfried laid siege to it; but one of Herwig’s knights succeeded in stealing through the enemy’s camp by night and, hastening to Hegelingen, told King Hetel of the ravages Siegfried had committed in Zealand and of Herwig’s dangerous situation. When Gudrun heard these evil tidings she besought her father to hasten to the aid of her betrothed.

“That will I gladly do, my daughter,” cried the King, “Herwig shall see ’twas not in vain I swore faith with him, and straightway shall all our friends be summoned hither.”

Messengers were sent out in haste bidding his vassals join him prepared for war without delay; and soon a host of gallant knights assembled with their followers all eager for battle. First came old Wate, that dauntless champion who never yet had known fear and of whose prowess great tales were told. Then followed Morung, Irolt, Horand, and the aged Frute. Had these heroes been in the royal castle when Herwig sought to storm it, there might well have been a different ending to the fight! The King’s son Ortwin also donned his armor and begged permission to accompany the expedition. He longed to prove his valor for the first time and aid in avenging his sister’s wrong.

Hetel at once took ship with all his forces and soon reached Zealand. When Siegfried heard of their coming he set forth to meet them; then there followed a fierce conflict wherein many a good helm and shield were shattered, but neither side could claim a victory. With morning light the struggle was renewed, but again the evening of the bloody day brought no decisive result. So it went on for twelve long days, but when on the thirteenth morning Siegfried surveyed his dwindling forces, he knew he might no longer venture to wage open warfare; he retired with the remnant of his army to a strong castle which was entirely surrounded by water. Here at first he thought himself quite safe from Hetel’s swords and spears, but when he found the enemy closely besieging his retreat he heartily wished himself back in his own land. After sending messengers to Hegelingen to relieve the suspense of the Queen and Gudrun, Hetel swore a solemn oath never to stir from that spot till Siegfried should surrender,—a rash vow, that brought much sorrow to him, as we shall see.

Chapter IV
Hartmut Captures Gudrun

King Ludwig had many spies in Zealand and word of Hetel’s vow was soon brought to him. He asked if the castle held by Siegfried was a strong one, and learning that it could well sustain a year’s siege, he hastened joyfully to his wife and Hartmut, saying: “At last the hour of our revenge is nigh!”

Then he told them how Hetel with all his bravest knights had gone to Zealand to aid Herwig, leaving his own land but poorly guarded. Gerlinda was overjoyed when she found the King was bent upon avenging the affront that had been offered her, and brought gold from her own store to aid in arming the knights. Hartmut too was rejoiced, and set about placing himself and his followers in readiness with a will—though with him it was not so much a question of revenge as of winning the maiden he so dearly loved. At last all was ready, and Ludwig’s army embarked and put out to sea.

After a voyage of many days, the eager warriors one morning spied the gleaming turrets of Matalan, the castle occupied by Queen Hilda and her daughter, and landing under cover of a wood succeeded in approaching close to the walls without being seen by the warders. Ludwig wished to begin the assault at once, but Hartmut persuaded him to wait until he had made one more attempt to win Gudrun by peaceful means. For this purpose he despatched two wealthy Counts with a message to her, but when she learned their errand, she replied:

“Say to your master I am betrothed to King Herwig and never will I break faith with him!”

The Counts warned her that Hartmut’s love was so great he was ready to carry her away by force if she would not consent to go with him of her own will; whereat Gudrun’s knights laughed scornfully, so sure were they of the strength of the castle and their own good swords, and little suspecting that an army was concealed in the wood. The messengers were dismissed and costly garments offered them, with wine in gold and silver drinking-horns, but they haughtily refused the gifts.

“Ha!” cried the Danes angrily, “if ye do scorn King Hetel’s wine, then shall blood be poured for you, forsooth!”

The Counts rode back to Hartmut and told him what had passed.

“Alas!” he cried, “that such words have been spoken! No longer is there left me any choice.”

The battle standards were unfurled and Hartmut advanced upon the castle with his fellows. Queen Hilda was overjoyed when she first beheld him, for she thought some good fortune had brought King Hetel back. Soon, however, the device upon the banners showed her it was Hartmut who approached, and she ordered the gates of the castle to be made fast. Her knights, thirsting for battle, rushed forth; but scarcely had they met the foe when Ludwig issued from the forest with a second force, and dashing among the unlucky Danes, mowed them down, as corn falls before the reapers. The two soon forced the castle gates and planted their victorious banners on the battlements of Matalan. Hartmut found Gudrun in the great hall, her cheeks pale with terror.

“Thou didst scorn me once,” he said to her, love and anger struggling within him, “and for that should I scorn to make captive any here, but rather let all be slain!”

Gudrun turned away weeping and cried, “Alas! my father, couldst thou but know what hath befallen thy poor child!”

Terrible ravages were committed in the castle by Ludwig’s followers, which Hartmut was powerless to prevent, though he would not suffer it to be burned. Gudrun, with thirty of her women, was taken captive to the ships; and after pillaging and laying waste the country for three days, the Normans again embarked laden with spoils; the anchors were raised, and on the fourth morning the fleet set sail for home.

Chapter V
The Evil Tidings

King Hetel, who had been joined by Herwig and his warriors, still besieged the castle within whose walls Siegfried defied all their assaults. One day messengers from home arrived, and when Hetel saw them coming he hastened joyfully to meet them, crying, “Tell me quickly, good sirs, how fares it with my wife and my dear daughter Gudrun?”

The messengers’ glances fell as one of them said sorrowfully: “Great is the evil that hath befallen, my lord! Burned are thy cities, and thy castles ruined. Full a thousand brave knights have fallen fighting for thy house. Thy treasures hath the enemy despoiled, and thy daughter Gudrun is taken captive!”

At these words the King laid hold of him fiercely, saying: “Thou speakest in frenzy, man! Who could have done this? Speak, speak, I say!”

“’Twas Ludwig of Normandy and his son Hartmut, my lord,” replied the messenger, “who suddenly appeared before Matalan with a mighty army.”

Then the King cried aloud and tore his long gray beard in anguish. Quickly the news spread through the camp, and the heroes Herwig and Wate, Irolt, Frute, and Horand, hastened to his side. In bitter grief he cried:

“To you, faithful comrades, I pour out my woe!

On my house hath dire evil been wrought by the foe:

Alas! but ill-guarded we left our own shore,

Its gallant defenders shall guard it no more.

My castles are ruined, my country laid waste,

My liegemen lie slaughtered, my daughter disgraced;

In bondage, alas! must that noble maid sigh

Whom I to the Norman as bride did deny!”

Tears streamed down Herwig’s cheeks when he heard these dreadful tidings, and all were moved by the grief of the father and lover of Gudrun. Count Wate alone remained calm.

“Take heart, my lords,” he said, “for the day shall yet come when our sorrow will be turned to joy again. Cease these laments, I pray, lest Siegfried hear the sound thereof and take delight in your affliction.”

Hetel strove to regain his composure and asked mournfully what was to be done. Wate replied: “Now must we press Siegfried so closely on all sides that he will gladly seize an offer of alliance with us. This done, we shall have his aid and be free to pursue the base marauders!”

This counsel cheered all the knights, and the next morning they began such a furious assault on the castle as Siegfried never yet had been forced to endure. After many knights on both sides had fallen, Irolt shouted up to the walls: “If thou wouldst have peace with us then ask it of King Hetel, else shall no man of you go back alive to his own land!”

Siegfried answered: “I may not in honor sue for peace to any man. And thinkest thou to conquer us? ’Tis but more heroes sent to death on either side.”

Then Frute raised his voice and said: “Swear thou wilt ever abide by us with loyal service, and thou mayst go hence in peace.” And Siegfried, together with all his knights, raised their hands and swore it.

Then the gates of the castle were thrown open, Siegfried and Hetel clasped hands, and the rest of the heroes did the same; so all were friends who but a short time before had been fighting to the death. Hetel now opened his heart to Siegfried and told him of the calamity that had befallen them. And Siegfried said to Herwig:

“Even as I have hated thee, that thou didst win the love of Gudrun, whom I too would fain have wed, so now will I loyally aid thee to win her back from Hartmut. Had ye not burned my ships, then might we have pursued the Norman thieves without delay.”

“There is a band of pilgrims near the shore,” said Wate, “with ten large ships and many smaller vessels. These they must lend us, whether they will or no!”

This plan was hailed with joy. Taking with him an hundred knights, Wate forthwith brought the ships to land, while the pilgrims, whose treasures were safely stored on shore, were pacified with promises of a speedy return. The next morning Hetel, with all his companions and followers, embarked, and a favoring wind soon bore them out to sea.

Chapter VI
The Battle on the Wulpensand

Ludwig and Hartmut meanwhile had reached a green and thickly wooded island called the Wulpensand, where they decided to make a camp and rest them from their labors for a space. Often did Gudrun gaze sadly out across the water, the tears streaming unheeded down her cheeks.

Some days had passed thus when about noon white sails were seen upon the far horizon. Word was brought at once to Ludwig and Hartmut, and they hastened to the shore. Soon they distinguished crosses on the sails and supposed them to be pilgrim ships. But after a time, Ludwig said: “Yon ships do gleam and sparkle as they were filled with shining stars—’tis from helm and shield and spear tip! Up, warriors! Up and arm you to receive them!”

Instantly the camp was in confusion. All flew to arms, and soon the shore was lined with shouting warriors eager for battle. Ludwig’s banner floated out upon the breeze, and he shouted: “Now, by my faith! Our former work was but child’s play to what now lies before us! Stand fast, bold knights, and richly will I reward you!”

Nearer and nearer came the hostile fleet bearing Hetel and Herwig and Siegfried with all their men, till at last the two armies were within reach of each other’s spears. Then there arose such a clashing and splintering of javelins and arrows that the noise of the waves was completely drowned. Hastily Hetel’s men clambered into their boats and rowed ashore. Wate sprang into the water up to his breast and made his way to land, Hetel, Herwig, Ortwin, Frute and their brave men following; and soon the sea far out was red with blood from innumerable wounds. Ludwig recognized Wate and hurled his spear at the mighty champion, but he caught it fairly on his shield and it broke, the splinters flying far and wide. As he gained the shore, he dealt King Ludwig a blow with his sword that sent him reeling backward; and there with King Hetel’s people won to land and the fight began in earnest.

Till nightfall the battle raged, when neither side had prevailed. Then the weary heroes sought a few hours’ repose, but at dawn the battle trumpets once more sounded and the strife began anew. Backward and forward rolled the tide of battle, pausing now and then, only to burst out more fiercely than before. At last the two Kings, Hetel and Ludwig, met. Hetel fought like a lion robbed of its young, and his sword whistled frightfully through the air as the blows fell fast and furious on his adversary’s helm and shield. But Ludwig too was a mighty champion, grown old in battle: at last he smote King Hetel so powerfully that he fell dead before him. At this a wild shout went up from the Normans, and the news soon spread to Gudrun’s tent, whereupon the poor maiden with a cry of anguish sank unconscious to the ground.

Wate fought like an infuriated wild beast, and many of the enemy fell before his sword; but in spite of all their efforts they could gain no real advantage, and darkness fell once more without Herwig’s having succeeded in rescuing his bride. Watch-fires were lit, and the two armies were so close to each other that the gleam of their armor could be plainly seen.

That evening Ludwig took counsel with Hartmut in his tent. He feared Wate’s strength and deemed it best to retire under cover of night, while the drums and war-trumpets should sound loudly as if in joyous anticipation of the morrow’s conflict and their confidence of victory, and thereby drown all sound of preparation. This plan was forthwith adopted; the ships were hurriedly laden and made ready to depart, and the fair captives led thither after having been warned as they valued their lives to make no outcry. Ludwig’s forces had become so diminished that he was forced to leave many of his ships behind for lack of men to man them. His stratagem was successful, however; the Normans put safely out to sea in the darkness, and a strong breeze bore them swiftly away.

In the morning a dense mist enveloped land and sea, but Wate turned to continue the battle and at the sound of his horn the knights sprang once more to arms. Just then the sun broke through the clouds, and lo! the whole country stretched bare before their bewildered gaze—the enemy had vanished! The ground was strewn with corpses, broken weapons, and torn banners, while near the shore some empty ships lay tossing on the waves. At this, such a fury of rage seized Wate that few dared approach him. Ortwin cried: “Let us pursue them with all speed!”

But Frute, who had been watching the wind, replied: “’Twere useless now, my lord. Full thirty miles have they the start of us, nor with our remnant of an army may we venture a pursuit.”

“Then will we take vengeance on the living through the dead!” shouted grim Irolt. “Unburied shall they lie to feed the ravens!”

But Herwig reproved him, saying: “Nay, comrade, that must never be! Rather let us dig ample graves and bury friend and foe together.”

“Dead foes no longer hatred claim;

Grudge not the dead true hero’s fame!”

This was done, and after all the slain had been consigned to earth, with heavy hearts the heroes once more embarked and set sail for home.

Soon Queen Hilda’s castle rose before them from the sea, whereat groans of anguish burst from many a mail-clad breast. Ortwin cried: “Alas! how can I appear before my mother? Not only have we failed to deliver Gudrun, but now my father lies beneath the stones of Wulpensand!”

Herwig too shrank from breaking the evil tidings to Queen Hilda, nor were any of their comrades willing to undertake the task. But when they had reached the shore Wate gruffly said: “It is useless to attempt to conceal the truth from the Queen,” and himself rode to the castle, looking so grim and forbidding that all who beheld him shrank in terror. But Hilda, who had seen him coming and had also marked the sadly diminished fleet upon the strand, hastened anxiously to meet him and asked him in trembling accents for her lord.

“I will not deceive thee, lady,” said the hero, his rough features clouded with grief; “the King is slain, and with him the greater part of our comrades”; and therewith he told her of the battle on the island.

Quickly the news spread, and from the castle arose loud wailing and sounds of woe, to which all the heroes added their lamentations. The whole court was plunged into grief, and Wate alone retained his firmness.

“Peace—peace—my friends! No plaints nor sighs will ever open the King’s grave or bring back Gudrun to us. With the handful of warriors that are left us, we can do nothing now, ’tis true, but ere-long a younger generation will be of age to bear arms, and then our day of reckoning will come!”

Chapter VII
Gudrun’s Danger

As Ludwig’s fleet drew near the coast of Normandy the gleaming turrets of his royal castle shone out across the green water; far into the distance stretched fruitful fields and wooded heights, bathed in bright sunlight. Then the King led his captive to the ship’s deck, her trembling companions following, and said kindly to her, “Maiden, behold the land of which thou art one day to be Queen!”

Hartmut fixed his ardent gaze upon the fair prisoner, hoping she would at last look with favor on him, but Gudrun answered firmly:

“Rather would I choose death than wed with Hartmut! ’Twas he who brought all this sorrow upon me through his invasion of our kingdom, and but for him my noble father who now on yonder island sleeps in his grave, had been yet alive.”

This enraged the King; but controlling himself, he told her she must reconcile herself to what had happened, since it could not now be altered, and she must choose between royal honors and a shameful captivity.

Undauntedly the maiden replied: “I have sworn faith with Herwig, and death alone shall free me from my troth.”

Scarcely had she uttered the words when the fierce Norman King seized her by the hair and flung her into the sea. Hartmut sprang forward to save his beloved, but in vain. For a moment her fair hair floated on the water, then he plunged after her and both disappeared below the surface. Anxiously those on the ship gazed downward, fearing that the King’s son, too, would find a watery grave. Soon he rose again, however, supporting the maiden on his strong arm; and the ship’s folk, who had already sprung into a boat, drew both to safety.

Hartmut gave Gudrun into the hands of her women, ordering them to take her below and provide her with dry garments without delay. Then confronting his father with glowing cheeks, he demanded sternly:

“Wherefore wouldst thou have drowned her who is more dear to me than life itself? By my faith, had another dared what thou hast done, I would have paid him with my sword.”

Angrily the King answered:

“Boy, speak not thus to me! I am grown old in honors, and honor will I have from thee till I am dead. Therefore warn Gudrun that she heed her words in future when she hath speech with me!”

Chapter VIII
The Reception

Soon the fleet reached the shore, and Hartmut sent messengers to his mother to bid her prepare to receive Gudrun as became her rank. Gerlinda was overjoyed when she learned that the daughter of that haughty monarch who had once offered her such an affront was with the Normans on the ships, and ordered the costliest apparel to be made ready, though rather, it must be said, to display her own riches than to fulfil the wishes of her son.

Now Hartmut had a sister named Ortrun, who rejoiced in the thought that Gudrun would be a beloved sister to her, and joyfully assisted in all the preparations for the festivities. Three days were thus occupied, and on the fourth morning a splendid procession wended its way down from the royal castle to the shore. Gerlinda and Ortrun came first, mounted on white palfreys and arrayed in magnificent robes of silk interwoven with gold, while behind them rode a glittering train of knights, all sumptuously attired.

Joyous strains of music penetrated to the ships, but they fell on Gudrun’s ear like the harsh cry of the screech-owl. Soon she with her maidens was conducted to the land.

The broken-hearted royal maid

With tottering steps was seen—

Shrinking from Hartmut’s proffered aid—

Approach the haughty Queen.

Ortrun, impatient, longed to make

Her loving welcome known,

For to her seemed this stranger maid

Like sister all her own.

But as she joyously draws nigh,

With sinking heart she sees

In Gudrun’s eyes the bitter tears—

Then all her rapture flees.

They closely clasp each other’s hand—

A kiss—and then they part:

No words they speak, but in their eyes

Each reads the other’s heart.

Then Queen Gerlinda turned to her

With falsely flattering look

And would have sought a greeting kiss—

This Gudrun would not brook.

“Approach me not!” she proudly said,

“Thou cause of all my woe!

For me to suffer thy embrace

Were worse than crime, I trow!”

Gerlinda seemed not to hear these words, but her heart swelled within her with rage. Tents were now pitched on the green sunny meadow, and Hartmut spared no pains to please and cheer Gudrun with music and tilting, but her tears flowed unceasingly, nor could all his efforts avail to comfort her. She sat with her head on Ortrun’s shoulder, and Ortrun wept with her.

Moved by her sorrow, Hartmut put an end to the games and gave the signal for departure. At the castle Gudrun found sumptuous apartments prepared for her and her maidens, but she felt as if she were entering a tomb; in truth, it would have been a welcome thought to her could she have felt that never again should she awake.

Chapter IX
Gudrun’s Test

Many months passed during which Hartmut omitted no proof of devotion to his fair captive, but never did the King’s daughter cease to think of him whose ring of gold she wore upon her finger.

One day Gerlinda said to Gudrun in the presence of her son: “When wilt thou relent, perverse one? Delay no longer, but give thy hand to Hartmut, for, of a truth, he is the peer of any king alive!”

For answer Gudrun turned toward her and asked: “Wouldst thou, Lady Gerlinda, take for thy husband one who had caused the death of so many of thine own people?”

Gerlinda, knowing how her son’s heart was set on Gudrun, replied: “Nay, dwell not on what is past, thou foolish maid! Wed him who loves thee well, and gladly will I yield to thee my crown.”

Gudrun’s eyes filled with tears and her cheeks grew red, as she answered:

“Can there be love where treacherous deeds

Of bloody crimes have sown the seeds?

The bitter tears mine eyes so drown,

They dim the glitter of a crown.

For freedom thirsts my soul for aye,

Of freedom dream I night and day:

Naught but a captive I’ll remain,

Nor wed him whom my sire hath slain!”

She left the hall weeping.

Hartmut sprang up angrily, saying: “Enough of this! Since she ever doth scorn me, I will no longer show her favor!”

This filled Gerlinda with secret joy, for now at least she thought the haughty princess would be in her power, and following Hartmut she said to him: “My son, ’tis beyond thy skill to deal with Gudrun. So stubborn a child can be brought to better ways only by those of more experience. Leave her to me and thou shalt soon find her pride humbled.”

“Heaven grant it!” cried Hartmut. “Easily might I force her to be mine, yet my heart rebels against such harshness.”

“Trust me,—all shall be as thou dost wish,” replied Gerlinda, eagerly.

“Fail not to deal with her as becomes her rank,” he continued, “and forget not that the poor maid hath had much cause for grief!”

The next morning Hartmut took leave of his parents and left the court, but ere he departed he sought his mother once more and charged her to treat Gudrun kindly. Then he rode forth with his followers to drown remembrance of his love and sorrow in the dangers of battle, bearing with him the hope that Gudrun’s heart would turn to him at last. Had he but known the evil thoughts in Gerlinda’s mind, he would never have departed. Scarcely was he out of sight, however, when the Queen gave full vent to her malice. Seeking Gudrun, she said to her: “Since thou dost scorn the love and favor of a King, forsooth, thou shalt do menial service and taste beggar’s fare!”

“Alas!” replied Gudrun, “I am at thy mercy and must bear whate’er thou dost inflict on me. But know this, Queen! that naught shall avail to shake my loyalty.”

“Then,” continued Gerlinda, “shall thy maidens also serve as drudges for the sake of thy loyalty: heat the ovens, carry wood, and sweep up dust and litter. Oh, I will soon bend thy stubborn pride, I promise thee!”

Gudrun was greatly distressed that her maidens, who were all of noble birth, should be made to suffer for her sake, but she was powerless to prevent it.

What the Queen had threatened soon came to pass. Gudrun was separated from her companions and forced to perform the lowest tasks, but when Gerlinda one day asked her mockingly how her life at the court now pleased her, she replied simply: “The good God who gave me constancy, granted me also the strength to bear the undeserved trouble it hath brought upon me.”

Thus three years went by, and Hartmut returned at last from his wanderings, rich in fame and honors. Full of hope, he rode joyfully into the castle; but what was his horror to behold the high-born princess in the garb of a menial!

“Alas! my mother, what hast thou done?” he cried, and giving his hand to Gudrun, he said sorrowfully: “Believe me, most noble maiden, ’tis through no fault of mine that this shame hath befallen thee! Yet wilt thou but look upon my suit with favor, then all thy sorrow shall be turned to joy.”

But Gudrun answered: “Already have I made it plain to thee that my heart is his to whom my vows are plighted. Go! leave me to the misery thine honor should have spared me!”

Then Hartmut reminded her of his rescue of her from the water at peril of his life, as proof of his devotion. “And wilt thou leave such love still unrewarded?” he asked.

“Was it not thou,” replied Gudrun, “that tore me from my home and all I loved? Didst thou not slay my father? And yet for all these wrongs thou dost expect my thanks?”

“Have it as thou wilt, then!” he cried angrily, “and abide in thy misery! ’Twas no act of mine that brought it upon thee, yet it well-nigh seems thou dost deserve thy shame!”

But it was not long till his love for Gudrun again awoke, and he determined to make one more effort to win her heart.

Chapter X
Ortrun

Hartmut now went to his sister and said: “I pray thee, comfort Gudrun and be a sister to her, so many bitter griefs hath she been forced to bear. Seek, too, to turn her heart toward me by kindness. Canst thou but do this, my sister, then will I owe thee thanks so long as I do live!”

Ortrun wept for joy at these words, and embracing her brother fondly, replied: “Happy indeed shall I be once more to see thy love. Our mother forbade me to approach her, and great grief was this to me.”

Then said Hartmut: “Henceforth thou shalt share all thy joys with her, dear Ortrun. Perchance if we make her happy here with us her heart may yet be mine.”

Joyfully Ortrun hastened to Gudrun and besought her love and friendship, telling her the good news that hereafter by Hartmut’s desire they were to share the same chamber; and the two royal maidens acknowledged they had missed and longed for one another.

Happier days dawned for Gudrun. She spent all her time with Ortrun, whose only thought was to cheer her sorrowful companion. When Gudrun talked of her home and people, she listened with loving interest or shared her tears. She would gladly have welcomed the Danish princess as her sister-in-law and lost no opportunity to speak good of Hartmut, whom she dearly loved. But as time went on, she saw more and more clearly that her friend’s constancy was unalterable; and it troubled her greatly, for she foresaw more evil days for Gudrun. So the Winter passed, and the Summer, and another Winter drew nigh.

Then Gerlinda persuaded her son to ask Gudrun for the last time to share his throne. So he went to her and besought her once more to be his Queen. Again she refused; whereat Hartmut asked her if he was not as worthy of her love as Herwig, but she only said: “Herwig hath my promise, and I will not break it.”

Hartmut assured her that Herwig must have already broken faith with her, since for all these years he had allowed his sword to rust in its sheath and had made no effort to rescue her.

“In truth I know not why this should be,” she answered; “yet even if he hath forgotten me, still will I be true to him till death.”

So Hartmut went back to Gerlinda and said: “Naught will alter the maiden’s resolution. I can do no more; wherefore take her and deal with her as thou wilt.”

Then he warned his knights to be on their guard. “For if the friends and kindred of Gudrun be as steadfast as she hath proved herself,” he said, “it yet may chance an army shall invade our land.”

Chapter XI
Gudrun’s Trials

From that day fresh hardships fell to the lot of the King’s daughter; yet when the enraged Queen ordered her to return once more to her drudgery, saying it was only pride that caused her to refuse Hartmut’s hand, Gudrun answered quietly: “God knows my heart, and if it be His will that I should suffer thus, it is not for me to rebel, but to do all thou dost require of me, so that it touch not the faith I have sworn with Herwig!”

To this the Queen replied: “Then shall it be thy daily task to wash garments, and take heed that thou art not found idle a single hour from early morn till nightfall!”

And this the maiden was forced to do, though she knew nothing of such work; nor did Gerlinda fail to greet her with taunts and jeers whenever she saw her. But Hartmut went about silently, with never a friendly word to any man, for his heart was sore within him.

So diligently did Gudrun apply herself to her task, however, that soon it would have been hard to find a more skilful washerwoman than the high-born maiden, but her companions’ hearts were well-nigh broken when they saw the heavy labor their beloved mistress was compelled to perform. One of them, indeed, named Heregart, proved disloyal to her and wedded a Norman duke, the King’s cup-bearer, whereby she found favor at court, and all went well with her, but the rest of the damsels, like Gudrun, remained true to their own land and to one another through all their trials and sufferings. One of them, the Princess Hildburg, was so grieved at Gudrun’s hard lot, and wept and lamented so bitterly over it, that Gerlinda at last observed it and maliciously said to her: “Since thou takest Gudrun’s fate so much to heart, go thou and take her place when she is weary.”

“Gladly would I bear all her burdens, if such might be!” replied Hildburg. “In God’s name, madame, put not the maiden to such shame! Remember that her father wore a crown. Yet I, who am also a prince’s child, would rejoice if I might only share her lot.”

“Now, by my faith, that shalt thou surely do, in payment for thy bold words, thou malapert!” cried Gerlinda, furiously. “Through the snow shalt thou go with Gudrun daily to the shore, and I will see to it thou hast work enough to weary thee, I warrant!”

Gerlinda little knew that instead of inflicting a heavy punishment upon the loyal maiden, she had made her happier than she had been for many a day. Scarcely could she wait for evening to come, and when at last she spied Gudrun wearily returning from her day’s labor, she ran to meet her and they wept in one another’s arms. Then Hildburg said, “I have persuaded that monster to let me go with thee to the shore and share thy toil.”

“May God reward thy loyalty, dear Hildburg!” cried Gudrun, embracing her once more, “if I but have thee to talk with while I am at my work, the hours will seem short indeed!”

So the next morning, and thereafter, they went together with their baskets to the shore, and though the work was hard and painful, their love for each other sustained them and enabled them to endure their sufferings patiently.

Chapter XII
On the Wulpensand

All this time Gudrun’s mother, Queen Hilda, as well as her lover, brother, and all her friends, supposed that Hartmut had forced her to become his wife; but none the less were they firmly resolved to avenge the outrage and bring her home again. With this in view the Queen had seven large strong vessels built, and two and twenty smaller ships; a vast store of armor and weapons was also made ready, and at last one day she summoned old Irolt to the castle and told him it was her wish to erect a cloister on the Wulpensand in honor of her dead husband, and after this was done, her loyal subjects should undertake the voyage to Normandy.

“The day of retribution is in truth at hand, O Queen!” replied Irolt, “for a brave and stalwart generation hath grown to manhood; methinks ’twere well to summon forthwith thy friends from far and near.”

The Queen was rejoiced and hastened to send messengers first of all to Herwig of Zealand, who welcomed them gladly, for he surmised their errand.

“Most noble Herwig,” said they, “the time has come to avenge Queen Hilda’s wrong, and in this she counts upon thy aid.”

“Nor have I forgotten Gudrun, who was pledged to me in solemn troth and whom Hartmut, in defiance of all right and custom hath held captive all these years. Say to thy Queen I will join her speedily with my knights, and that never yet was war so welcome to my heart.”

Then the messengers bore the news to the Queen’s other friends and allies, to Horant, Morung, Frute, and Wate, and all promised to be ready. When Hilda heard this she sent for her son Ortwin, who long had yearned for this day to come. He was in the forest hawking when the messengers arrived, and rode eagerly to meet them. They soon made known to him what had passed, whereupon he snatched the hood from the falcon’s head and let it go free, for now, thought he, “’tis a question of that higher game, for which I have longed so often.” Joyfully he hurried to his mother and sent out word to his followers to assemble with all haste.

Swift messengers the tidings bore

With speed throughout the land;

Ended were now the sounds of woe,

Each warrior grasped his brand.

The battle steeds were panoplied,

The flags their folds outflung,

While all along the western shore,

Forests of masts upsprung.

At last all the preparations were complete, and the heroes sought Queen Hilda and prayed her for leave to depart on their journey. Invoking God’s blessing upon them she bade them farewell, and, after a last tearful embrace of her son, turned to them, saying: “Watch over him faithfully, my loyal friends! Brave and valiant I well know him to be; yet he is but young and inexperienced in warfare. Keep ever at his side, therefore, should he press forward too boldly in the tumult of battle.”

The heroes boarded the ships, already laden with their arms and stores, while a great throng of people gathered on the shore to watch their departure. The anchors were weighed, the white sails shaken out, and, aided by a favoring gale, the fleet put out to sea. Women waved farewells to their departing husbands; from the ships arose the sound of trumpet and drum, while the heroes lustily chanted a war song as out they sailed farther and farther into the shining sea. Wate took the lead and steered the fleet for the Wulpensand. After a voyage of several days the green island appeared before them; but before they could reach it a great storm arose. Mountainous waves came rushing down upon them, the ribs of the ships creaked and groaned, and the tall masts bent under the fury of the gale. Dark as night it grew, while red lightning flashes darted from the inky clouds and seemed to strike the water.

“Hark!” cried Horant. “Dost hear that sound of wailing? Methinks King Hetel finds no rest in his unconsecrated grave.”

These words fired Ortwin with desire to carry peace to his father’s soul, and tearing a cross from the mast he leaped with it into the boiling flood which closed angrily over him. His comrades gave him up for lost, but soon, by the glare of the lightning, they saw him rise to the surface, and parting the waves with strong arms, he succeeded, by God’s mercy, in gaining the shore of the Wulpensand. There he planted the cross upon the mound that marked the warrior’s place of burial, and knelt in prayer beside it. As the vivid flashes revealed the noble form of the beautiful youth to those upon the ship, he seemed like a heavenly vision, bathed in the fiery glow. The sight restored the sinking courage of many a knight, and with new strength they bent to the work of battling with the waves. Soon the thunder lessened, the wind died away, and, as the golden sunlight broke again from out the clouds, their vessels reached the shore in safety.

For many days the heroes remained on the island praying for the souls of the departed, for few were there in all the host who had not some kin or friend to mourn among the slain. The thought of these served to steel their courage, and as Siegfried, who had been reminded of his oath, had by this time joined them with a large number of ships and men, the whole fleet put out again to sea.

Chapter XIII
The Tale of Hagen and the Griffin

The way was far to Normandy, and time often hung heavily on the hands of the heroes, who were longing for action. Sometimes, when the wind failed, a number of them would assemble on the deck, while gray-bearded warriors related many an adventure of their own or their forefathers’. Thus it chanced one day that several of the younger knights gathered about Frute and besought him to tell them the tale of Hagen and the Griffin. Frute agreed, and, seating himself upon a pile of armor, leaned back against the mast while his hearers formed a circle about him on the deck. The sun was setting and its ruddy gleams were reflected from the mirror-like surface of the water upon the face of the aged hero, as he began:

“Once upon a time there ruled in Ireland a King called Sigeband, whose wife bore him a son. He was named Hagen, and while yet a child all who saw him marvelled at his strength. By the time he had reached his seventh year he refused to remain any longer in the women’s care, but desired only to be with men and learn to wield arms. Sigeband encouraged his son’s wishes, and the boy soon became so skilled in the use of spear and sword that even the oldest warriors were amazed and declared that never before had such a child been seen. Now it chanced that the Queen one day was sitting upon the battlements of the castle gazing sorrowfully out before her, when the King appeared and asked the cause of her sadness.

“‘Dear lord!’ she replied, ‘rich indeed are we in lands and subjects, as also in fame and honor, yet one thing do we lack that oft doth grieve me much. At my dear father’s court many knights of great renown came and went, and there were daily feastings and tourneys, the fame of which spread throughout all lands. But here, alas! we heap up vast stores of gold and jewels in our treasure chests, and forswear those pleasures which might well serve in time of need to provide us with blood and treasure.’

“‘Thou speakest truth, my wife,’ said the King, ‘and henceforth I will do even as other princes. To-morrow messengers shall summon hither all our friends from far and near, and we will prepare a great feast for them.’

“At this Queen Ute was rejoiced and cried joyfully: ‘Then I will search my chests and bring forth rich garments with gold and jewels also, that we may fittingly reward the victors in the games.’

“Spring came and with it the time fixed for the festivities. The fields were gay with blossoms, and wood and grove were filled with the songs of birds. On every road were seen fluttering pennons as bands of knights in shining armor approached from all directions. The huge castle with its sixty towers was soon filled to overflowing, and sumptuous tents were erected without the walls, while the King and Queen took good care that their guests were well provided for in every way. Sounds of mirth and rejoicing filled the air, and many a lance was splintered in the lists. Thus nine days went joyously by, but on the tenth a terrible calamity befell the royal host.

“In the hall a wandering minstrel had just struck his harp and begun his heroic lay. King Sigeband and his Queen were seated on the throne, with knights and ladies grouped about them in a circle. The little prince was in the garden with his attendants who, attracted by the minstrel’s song, had gathered about the door, forgetting the child; and he ran gayly hither and thither, rejoicing in his freedom. Suddenly there was a great crashing among the branches of the trees, and a griffin swooped down, seized the boy in its claws and bore him off with mighty strokes of its huge wings. His screams penetrated to the hall, and all rushed forth in alarm; but rescue was then impossible, for already the griffin had mounted to the clouds and soon vanished in the distance with its prey. There was an end of all the festivities, and naught but lamentations and cries of woe were heard throughout the castle, where but now had echoed the sound of joyous laughter. The royal parents were well-nigh broken-hearted.

“The boy still lived, however, and gazed, terror-stricken, into the depths beneath him. Faster than the storm-wind flew the griffin and soon the sea was beneath them. Full a hundred miles from home had he been borne, when looking down Hagen perceived a dark chain of rugged mountains rising from an island. Here the griffin alighted on a rocky peak, flung the boy into its nest and flew away again. The young griffins stretched their necks eagerly for the prey, the flapping of their wings sounding like the breakers on the shore, but each tried to seize the prize for himself and began to fight, clawing fiercely at one another with harsh cries. One of the monsters, profiting by this opportunity, seized the boy and flew with him to the top of a tree, but as it alighted the branch broke beneath the creature’s weight, and Hagen, slipping from its clutches, dropped safe to the ground and hastily concealed himself in a cleft of rock thickly overgrown with bushes.

“When the young hero had recovered somewhat from his fright he looked about him and, seeing no sign of the griffin, was creeping cautiously along through the bushes, when suddenly there stood before him three beautiful damsels. They too had been stolen in their childhood by the griffin; but how they had contrived to escape the monster is no part of my tale. When they saw the noble boy in his rich garments coming toward them they were terrified, and quickly disappeared in a rocky cave near by, thinking that a dwarf who dwelt in the heart of the mountains had come forth into the light of day. But no sooner did Hagen spy the maidens than he sprang eagerly after them.

“‘Whence comest thou?’ they cried. ‘Get thee hence and do us no evil, for enough have we to bear already!’

“‘Nay, dear maidens, send me not away, I pray,’ replied Hagen, ‘but give me something to eat, for I am well-nigh famished. A fierce griffin brought me hither. Only help me and I will tell you whence I came.’

“When they saw that it was really a human child before them, they were overjoyed and caressed the boy fondly, after which they brought him food and drink and made him welcome to their cave. There he abode with them many days and years, and grew strong and brave under their loving care.

“One day a band of pilgrims chanced to approach the island in their ships, and Hagen and the maidens gazed joyfully at them, for they thought the hour of their deliverance had come. But suddenly a great storm arose; lightning flashed from the inky clouds, and loud rolled the thunder. The ships were tossed hither and thither among the raging billows. One after another was dashed to pieces on the rocks in spite of all the efforts of the unfortunate pilgrims; and when the storm subsided no soul was left alive of all the band. The next morning the shore was strewn with corpses, and the griffin bore many of them to its nest to feed its young.

“Hagen spied the body of a knight among them who had been dashed against a rock by the force of the waves. Watching his chance, the youth hurriedly seized the knight’s mail and helm and sword and bow and quiver. Scarcely had he completed his task when he heard a whiffling among the rocks and saw the griffin approaching; but now he was well armed and had no thought of fear. With steady hand he launched an arrow at the creature, but it rebounded from the thick hide and fell harmless to the ground. Therewith the furious monster rushed upon him; but already the sword flashed above Hagen’s head, and springing aside he shore off one of the huge wings. Then it struck fiercely at him with its claw, but this too he severed at a blow, and soon his foe lay dead before him. A cry of joy issued from the cave; but scarcely was it uttered when a fresh terror seized the maidens, for now a whole swarm of griffins came swooping down from the rocks. But Hagen’s courage had grown with victory, and the sword gleamed like lightning in his hands. Fierce indeed was the struggle and many a hero would have succumbed, but the youth held his ground bravely and succeeded at last in slaying all the monsters.

“Then he cried: ‘Come forth, dear maidens! Now for the first time you may enjoy the sun and air in freedom, without fear!’

“Joyously they ran to greet the gallant youth—nor could they sufficiently thank him for slaying the terrible griffins.

“A new life began for Hagen. From that hour he had no thought save for the use of his new-found weapons; nor was it long till he could bring down birds upon the wing with his arrows. Even fishes in the water could not escape his skill. He would spend whole days roaming about through the forest; learned to run swiftly as the flying stag, and, to the amazement and terror of the maidens, would leap streams and chasms with the strength and agility of the panther.

“Once a fierce dragon sprang at him from a dark cleft of rock; but Hagen clove its skull with his sharp sword, and it fell, writhing horribly in the death agony. When it was dead he tasted the blood of the creature, and immediately felt new strength come to him; whereupon he drank of it till he had gained the strength of twelve men. The skin he bore with him to the cave as a trophy of his victory.

“Not long after this he met a lion in the forest, but at the sound of his mighty hunting call the beast turned and fled. Hagen pursued and captured it alive and, after binding up its jaws and claws with ropes of fibre, bore his prize to the maidens on his shoulders. Before this they had been unable to make fires and were forced to eat raw meat, but now Hagen could strike sparks from the rocks, and this proved of great help to the maidens. The food they were now able to prepare was more wholesome and palatable, and day by day their beauty grew to greater fulness.

“One day Hagen said: ‘Let us follow the shore of the island; perchance elsewhere we may discover a ship that will take us to our homes.’

“They set out upon their quest without delay, the maidens clad in garments they had skilfully wrought from fibre, and after twenty-five days of wandering they descried a vessel. Hagen’s voice was louder than the roaring of the waves, and his shouts were soon heard by those on the ship; but when they beheld the strangely clad damsels, they took them for water-nixies and dared not row a boat to land. Then Hagen called on them for help in God’s name; whereupon the count who commanded the vessel entered a boat with twelve knights and came ashore. He was struck with the wondrous beauty of the maidens, but they were ashamed of their rude attire and hastily concealed themselves. Some of the knights rowed back to the ship and fetched some women’s apparel, which the girls hastily donned in the shelter of a thicket, after which the count took them with Hagen on his vessel. The ship’s folk greeted the maidens kindly when they found they were not tricksy sprites but fair mortals; and after they had refreshed themselves with food and drink, the count asked what evil fate had brought them to the island.

“They were loath to make their misfortunes known to a stranger, yet could not well refuse the request. Accordingly, the eldest replied: ‘My father wore the crown of farthest India, when the griffin snatched me from him. Alas! I shall nevermore behold my home!’

“‘I too am from a distant land,’ said the second maiden. ‘My noble father—plunged in deepest sorrow by my loss, I fear—was King of Portugal, and many princes did homage to him.’

“Lastly, the youngest spoke: ‘My home is in Iceland, whence the griffin bore me hither. So dear am I unto my father that well I know he gladly would bestow his crown on him who may restore me to him.’

“‘’Twas by God’s will that ye were carried to the island,’ said the count, ‘and surely He hath wrought your deliverance. Trust yourselves therefore to His care!’

“Then he turned to Hagen, saying: ‘Thy companions have made known to me their rank and history; now would I gladly learn thine own, bold youth, and how thou camest to the island.’

“‘My fate was even as theirs, Sir Knight,’ replied Hagen; ‘like them I was borne hither by the griffin. As for my father, he is King of Ireland, Sigeband by name.’

“Then the count asked whether the monster yet lived. Hagen’s eyes flashed and he grasped his sword firmly as he answered: ‘Nay, I slew the creature and therewith all its young.’

“All eyes were fixed in amazement upon the young hero as he spoke these words, and some of the knights praised him, saying: ‘Truly, thy deed is worthy all men’s praise; indeed ’twere doubtful whether any of us would have succeeded in slaying the griffin.’

“But Hagen observed how they talked with one another apart and endeavored secretly to remove his weapons. This roused his anger, and he warned them against any misdeed; whereupon the count whispered to his followers: ‘We must accomplish our ends by force!’ Then approaching Hagen, he said harshly: ‘Of a truth, thou hast fallen into my hands in good time. Much injury have I suffered from thy father’s warriors—wherefore I will hold thee captive till such time as he shall have made me full amends.’

“‘Whatsoever evil may have befallen thee at the hands of Ireland’s heroes, that surely is no fault of mine,’ replied Hagen. ‘Yet do thou but fetch me to my home and all shall be well, I promise thee.’

“‘Better security is it for me to hold thee prisoner,’ said the count. ‘As for the maidens, I will bestow them upon my courtiers.’

“At these words Hagen flew into a passion. ‘Now, by my faith,’ he shouted, ‘I will not be thy captive, nor shalt thou touch one hair upon the maidens’ heads!’ Then turning to the ship’s people, he cried—‘Richly will I reward you, good mariners, if ye will hearken to my bidding and bear me to my home. Heed well my words, for if ye do fail me, good cause shall ye have to rue it.’

“But the count sternly ordered them to seize Hagen, whereupon the youth snatched his sword from its sheath, and a furious fight began upon the ship. Heads rolled from the deck into the sea, and Hagen thrust the bodies after them with his foot. None could stand against him, and at last all those who were not slain fled to the farthest corner of the ship’s hold. Then he rushed upon the count, who would surely have been slain had not the maidens besought Hagen to have mercy. At their prayers, the hero sheathed his sword and ordered the ship to be steered according to his will. None dared now to oppose him, and thus the homeward voyage to Ireland was begun. Nor did the ship’s folk need word or deed from this time forth to urge them to industry, for they already feared his very glance.

“On the seventeenth day they came in sight of the castle where Hagen’s parents dwelt, and the mariners were in great fear lest Sigeband should slay them; but when Hagen saw this he reassured them, saying: ‘Fear not! My father will forgive all when he learns ’twas ye that did save me from the island. Some of you shall bear a message to my parents to tell them I still do live, and surely no evil will befall those who bring such tidings.’

“Choosing twelve men, therefore, he said to them: ‘Go ye to the court and ask the King if he would behold his son. He will not credit your words, perchance. Seek then my mother and ask her if she doth bear in mind the golden cross her son was used to wear upon his breast. She will surely follow you to the ship.’

“The men did as they were bidden; but when they entered the royal hall, the King at once recognized them by their garments as his foes and angrily demanded how they had dared come thither. Whereupon one of them replied: ‘My Lord, thy son Hagen hath sent us. Soon shalt thou behold him, for he is close at hand.’

“‘Thy words are false!’ cried Sigeband, ‘for who that knoweth how my dear son was torn from me may believe he still doth live? ’Tis many years now I have mourned his death.’

“Then turning to the Queen, the messengers asked her whether she would still know the cross she had given to her son; whereat a great flood of joy swept over her, and she cried eagerly, ‘Let us hasten to the shore that I may see the cross!’

“The King ordered horses to be brought at once, and rode forth with the Queen from the gates of the castle, followed by a stately train. Hagen meanwhile had come on shore with the knights and the maidens, and when he beheld his beloved parents once again his heart swelled with joy, while tears overflowed his eyes. Crowds of people had gathered to gaze upon him, for he had grown to be a mighty hero. The King made him welcome, saying: ‘If thou art he whom thou declarest thyself to be, then shall my declining years be made glad indeed!’

“As his mother approached, the youth drew the golden cross from his breast and held it out to her, whereupon with a cry of joy she clasped him to her heart and wept aloud for happiness, while his father, too, embraced him, with streaming eyes.

“Hagen now interceded for the count, and Sigeband, who could refuse nothing to his new-found son, clasped hands with his enemy in token of peace, and promised to make amends for any wrongs the count might have received at his hands.

“Joyously they all took their way back to the castle. The Queen welcomed the maidens as if they had been her own daughters, and clothed them in the costliest apparel. Hagen soon after chose the maiden from India, Hilda by name, as his wife. On the death of his parents he mounted the throne and became one of the mightiest princes that ever reigned. His wife presented him with a daughter, also called Hilda, who afterwards became Queen of our land and whose wrongs we are now going forth to avenge. God grant her child Gudrun be yet alive!”

Night had fallen as the old knight closed his tale. The full moon rode high in the heavens and the pale stars looked down kindly upon the band of warriors.

Chapter XIV
The Welcome Message

One day Gudrun stood with Hildburg on the shore watching the sun sink like a fiery ball into the shining sea, when suddenly something rose above the crimson surface of the water that looked like a white swan. But when it came nearer, Gudrun saw that it was a beautiful mermaid; and as both the damsels gazed in wonder at this apparition, it spoke to them and said: “If ye seek for comfort, then ask of me what ye would know!”

So Gudrun asked first of all if her mother yet lived and if all was well with her.

The mermaid answered: “Gladly will I tell thee what ’twill rejoice thy heart to hear. Queen Hilda lives and ever hopes to see thy safe return. To that end hath she made ready such a mighty fleet as seldom hath sailed the waves.”

Again Gudrun asked: “How fares it with my brother Ortwin? and tell me, O gentle spirit, is Herwig, my betrothed, alive?”

Gudrun on the Strand

In silvery tones the mermaid replied: “Well are they both, and now upon the sea. Soon shalt thou have proof that thou art not forgotten.”

Then Gudrun’s face shone, and tears of joy glistened in her eyes. “Truly,” she said, “these are joyous tidings thou dost bring me. Yet tell me further if thou canst—do Irolt and Morung come hither also?”

“Soon shall many a Norman helm be shattered by their swords!” answered the maiden, and so saying she disappeared beneath the crimson flood.

Then the maidens lamented that they could question her no further, and Gudrun said: “Come forth to us once more, sweet messenger!” whereat the water parted and again the mermaid arose.

“Ask what thou wouldst know!” she said, and Gudrun continued eagerly: “Hartmut and Ludwig are well armed and have many a valiant knight to aid them, wherefore I would know if Horant too is with my kin. ’Twould grieve me much did we lack his sword in battle!”

“He is among the heroes on the fleet,” the mermaid answered; “when they shall engage in battle to deliver thee and avenge the death of the King and his followers, ’tis Horant that will bear thy mother’s banner in the fight.”

Once more Gudrun asked: “And Frute and Wate—are they too with our knights?”

“In truth,” replied the mermaid, “thou hast no truer friends than those same heroes. Frute is on that ship whose helm Count Wate’s mighty arm directs.”