Gudrun

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.

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:

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.

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?”

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.”

Again she was about to vanish, but Gudrun cried beseechingly: “Tell me, I pray thee, when shall the first messenger from my mother appear to me?”

And the mermaid answered as she slowly sank beneath the waves: “To-morrow morn two messengers will come to thee—warriors are they both, on whom thou mayst rely.”

Gudrun and Hildburg were now so full of joy and hope that they only half completed their allotted tasks, and they talked of nothing but the beloved friends they were so soon to see. On their return in the evening they were received by the wicked Gerlinda with bitter abuse because they had accomplished so little work.

Hildburg pleaded: “Be patient with us, madam, for indeed we work as much as we are able. Were it not for the biting winds that blow upon the shore we could do better.”

But the Queen replied harshly: “What care I for the cold winds! See to it ye are at your work betimes upon the morrow, for there is much to be made ready for the feast, and if all be not finished by nightfall, in truth ye shall suffer for it more dearly than ever did servants of a King!”

After their scanty meal of bread and water, they sought the chamber where two hard benches without pillows of any sort served them as beds; but little sleep was there for them, so eagerly they watched for the first glimmer of dawn. At last a faint ray of light penetrated the chamber, and Hildburg arose and looked out of the window.

“Alas!” she cried, “what shall we do? Snow has fallen in the night. If we are forced to wash to-day in those piercing winds, by sunset they will surely find us dead upon the shore!”

Gudrun, too, shuddered at the thought, but she reminded Hildburg it was there they were to see the messengers, and this gave them courage. Also she said to her: “Go thou to the Queen and beseech her to give us shoes to wear to-day. If I ask it she will certainly refuse, so great is her hatred for me.”

So Hildburg sought the Queen, who still lay in her luxurious bed, but the maiden dared not awaken her and returned sadly to her companion. Gerlinda soon appeared, however, and berated them roughly for not being already at their work.

“Snow has fallen, O Queen,” said Hildburg; “give us shoes to wear, we pray thee, else shall we surely freeze!”

But Gerlinda only laughed, and cried scornfully: “Let your pride keep you warm, forsooth! No shoes shall you have from me. And beware if your work be not finished by nightfall! What would your deaths matter to me, fool?”

Weeping bitterly, Gudrun exclaimed: “It may be God’s will that I shall one day remind thee of this!” And in their bare feet the poor maidens made their way through the March snows to the seashore and began their painful task.