Before starting, Wittich said that he could not go to Rimstein without his sword, and Heime refused to give it up, alleging that it was his by right of war; but the king smoothed matters for the time by desiring Heime to lend it to his comrade during the campaign.
The warriors set out. The rebel yarl proved himself a tougher foe than had been expected, and even after weeks and months had passed, his castle seemed as impregnable as ever.
One moonlight night when Wittich was out alone, he met six warriors whom he knew, by the device upon their shields, to belong to the enemy. They fought, and Wittich slew their chief, his sword Mimung cutting him in two from the neck to the waist. The other five fled in terror, lest a like fate should befall them. On examining the dead man, Wittich found it was the yarl himself that he had slain, so he returned to the camp well pleased. Next morning he told Dietrich and his comrades what had chanced, and how the war was now at an end.
“He is indeed a bold warrior,” said Heime sarcastically; “he has slain a weak old man, who could not defend himself a bit better than a woman. But now, I must have Mimung back again, for I only lent it for this enterprise.”
“Let me first try it on your head, false comrade,” answered Wittich indignantly. “You left your brother-in-arms to die in a strange land, and were traitor enough to rob him of his weapon of defence as well. You shall now pay the penalty of your meanness.”
Heime drew his sword Nagelring, and a fight was imminent; but Dietrich thrust himself between the angry men, and commanded them on their allegiance to keep the peace.
Ermenrich rejoiced to hear of Wittich’s deed, and that the war was at an end. He gave rich presents to Dietrich and his men, and asked the royal hero to give Wittich leave of absence, that he might marry fair Bolfriana, the emperor’s ward, and undertake the government of her rich fief of Drachenfels (the “Trekanfil” of Norse legend). Dietrich was pleased at his comrade’s good fortune, and at parting, he merely reminded him of his oath of fidelity, which the hero at once renewed.
Not long afterwards Wittich was married to Bolfriana, and was endowed by the emperor with the great fief of Drachenfels, which extends to Fritilaburg (Friedburg?), and far beyond the eastern mountains. So Wittich became a mighty chief, as he had told his father that he would. Heime also, when his father Studas died, went to Ermenrich’s court to take the oath of allegiance. He received other lands from his imperial master, and, what he liked still better, much red gold besides.
RANDWER GIVES SWANHILD A NOSEGAY.
V.
ERMENRICH TURNS AGAINST THE HERO OF BERN.
The Harlungs.
Ermenrich had a great and mighty empire. His lands stretched out to the east and west, and many kings owed him fealty. His counsellors were wise and clear-headed men, whose advice was of the utmost use to him. Chief among these was Sibich, the marshal of the realm, who was helped in his arduous labours by Ribestein, the head of the royal household, and his constant companion. These men had always used their influence with the emperor to keep him true to his alliance with his nephew, the king of Bern, of whom, in his heart of hearts, his imperial highness was not a little jealous. But a great change was soon to take place in the policy pursued at Romaburg.
Sibich had a young and beautiful wife, of whom he was very fond. Now Ermenrich once sent him away on a long journey, and during his absence did him foul wrong. When the marshal returned, and heard from his weeping wife of the emperor’s treachery, he was filled with wrath. At first, he snatched up a dagger to kill his foe, but restrained himself, for he had thought of a subtler mode of vengeance. He desired to make the emperor the murderer of every member of his family, to deprive him of all his allies, and finally have him assassinated. It was a plan worthy of the devil himself, and was carried out with great craft and intelligence.
Sibich’s first step was to buy over Ribestein to his design, which he did for a large sum of money, avarice being the man’s weak point. This done, Ribestein agreed to write letters to the emperor as if from the duke of Tuscany, the count of Ancona, the prince of Milan, and others, warning him that his son Friedrich was plotting against him.
The evil deed was easily accomplished, as Ribestein had copies of all the coats of arms and seals used by the grandees of the empire. Ermenrich was naturally of a suspicious disposition, so he readily fell into the snare laid for him. He consulted Sibich as to what were best to be done, and the false counsellor advised him to send Prince Friedrich with a letter to Yarl Randolt, ostensibly to demand payment of the tribute the yarl owed, but really containing an order that the prince should be slain. The emperor did as he was advised, and Sibich took care that the deed should become generally known. A cry of horror went through the land, and Ermenrich was hated by all.
Reginbald, the second son, met his death in a different fashion: he went down in the rotten ship in which his father had sent him on a pretended mission to England.
One son alone remained, Randwer, the third and youngest, a high-spirited, handsome youth, in whom there was no guile. That helped him nothing, however. One day, in the innocence of his heart, he gave his young step-mother Swanhild a bunch of flowers, when they were out hunting with the whole court, and Ermenrich, whose mind had been poisoned by false Sibich, ordered Swanhild to be trampled under foot by horses, and Randwer to be hung. His commands were obeyed. He was now alone in the world, a childless old man.
“Well, Ribestein,” said the marshal to his accomplice, “we are getting on very well. The emperor’s only remaining heirs are the Harlungs, Imbreke and Fritele, who live at Breisach, on the Rhine, with their governor Eckehart; and then Dietrich of Bern. The Harlungs and the hero are both brother’s children. You were not born and brought up in Romaburg, so I will tell you the story.
“Ermenrich’s grandfather left two sons besides him—namely, Dietmar, the father of Dietrich, who received the kingdom of Lombardy, and Dieter, surnamed Harlung, who during his father’s lifetime received the Breisgau and an enormous hoard of red gold. Now listen to this. If we can only get rid of the Harlungs and the hero of Bern—yes, open your eyes and ears as wide as you can—you and I can divide between us the inheritance of Ermenrich!”
Ribestein jumped at the proposal as a fish jumps out of the water with joy on a bright day. He had never thought of such a thing before; but he quickly understood what was required of him, and set about the evil work at once.
The Harlungs were first brought under suspicion. Letters were shown to the emperor purporting to be from Imbreke, Fritele, and even from their governor Eckehart, addressed to different notables of the empire, and setting forth Ermenrich’s crimes in the darkest colours. One of the letters contained the following passage: “Since our liege lord has, in his desperate wickedness, slain his own children, he must himself perish, and that on the highest gallows.” The emperor was so angry when he read these words, that he determined to collect an army, and march against his rebellious nephews.
The troops were called out without any one knowing against whom the campaign was to be made. They marched towards the Rhine till they reached Tralenburg, which belonged to the Harlungs and where the brothers then lived. Two horsemen kept watch by the river. When they saw the armed men, they feared something was wrong, and, dismounting, swam with their horses across the river. They gave the alarm, and all was prepared for defence. Imbreke and Fritele knew the science of war; but they were still very young, and Eckehart, their governor, was detained at Breisach by business of the state. When the Harlungs saw their uncle’s banner, they thought all danger was over; but soon found to their cost that it was a warlike and not a peaceful visit. Wittich and Heime were with the imperial army; but as soon as they learnt Ermenrich’s plans they rode away to Breisach to warn the faithful Eckehart of what was going on. As they journeyed together, they became good friends again.
Tralenburg was at length reduced by fire and taken by storm. Without seeing his nephews, Ermenrich ordered a gallows to be erected, and the two brothers to be at once hung thereon. In those days the word of a mighty potentate was law, and the emperor was obeyed without remonstrance. Ermenrich now took possession of the Harlungs’ land, and sent out men to search for the rich hoard the murdered princes had inherited from their father. It was at length found hidden in a cave. The emperor rewarded his army richly, and kept the rest of the treasure-trove for himself.
Meanwhile Heime had returned. He had come back intending to reproach his liege lord with his evil deed, and to throw up his fief. But on receiving a large share of the booty, he forgot his better purpose. He was entrusted with the care of taking the treasure to Romaburg. When he saw the heap of red gold and precious stones, he took care that a considerable portion of it should find its way to Studa’s grange, and not to Romaburg. Meanwhile curses both loud and deep were uttered in every land against the emperor. Eckehart brought the news of the Harlungs’ fate to Bern, and Dietrich’s wrath burned when he heard it. He said the time would surely come when he could demand expiation from Ermenrich, and punish his evil counsellors Sibich and Ribestein. The fiery young heroes Alphar and his brother Sigestab wished to start at once alone with Eckehart to avenge the murder. But their father Amelolt and Hildebrand persuaded them to wait.
“What is only put off may yet be done,” said Alphar to his brother, laying his hand upon his sword.
Somewhere about this time Sibich and Ribestein met to hold counsel as to what they should do next.
“Another stone is out of the way,” said Sibich; “now we must try to find levers strong enough to move the great rock that stands in our way.”
The accomplices felt that they must be careful and not push matters too fast, for, in the first place, the emperor’s own soul was darkened by the crimes he had committed, and whenever he was alone he was haunted by the unsubstantial ghosts of those whose death he had compassed,—and, in the second place, before declaring war upon the hero of Bern, they felt it would be safer to gain over as many as possible of his comrades to their side. But they were hurried on faster than they wished, for Ermenrich’s uneasy conscience would not let him rest—he must have excitement.
The first step taken was to demand tribute of Dietrich of Bern. So Reinhold of Milan was sent into the land of the Amelungs to levy the tribute. The messenger returned in a few weeks’ time with empty hands. He said that the notables had flatly refused to pay what he demanded, for they had already paid it to the lord of Bern. And Dietrich had desired him to tell the murderer of the Harlungs to come himself and take the tribute, which would be paid him to the last mark at the spear’s point and the sword’s edge.
The emperor sent Heime to Bern to tell Dietrich that if he did not pay the tax, he would come in person and hang him on the highest gallows.
Heime was well received in Bern. Dietrich thought that he had come in memory of old times, but when he delivered the emperor’s message, the hero asked him if he remembered his old oath of fidelity; to which Heime replied that he had served out his bond, that he was now a vassal of the emperor, who had given him land and gold, and to whom he therefore owed service. Therewith he took his leave.
Heime was not long gone, when Wittich appeared. He galloped up to the castle gate.
“Arm, comrades, arm!” he cried, “there is not a moment to lose. Ermenrich approaches with an innumerable army. I rode on before to warn you of his coming. Faithless Sibich intended to have taken you by surprise, and whoever falls into his hands is not far from death.”
Dietrich reminded him of his oath, but like Heime he excused himself, and rode away.
The Norns appeared at this time to have thrown their darkest web over the head of the hero of Bern. One blow struck him after another. From Wittich he hastened to the sick queen Virginal. All night long he held her in his arms. In the morning she died, and grief for her loss prevented his acting with the quick determination usual to him. Master Hildebrand, however, was not idle. He had summoned all the vassals with their following from far and wide in the land of the Amelungs. And the night before the queen’s death, many allied princes joined them; amongst the number, Berchtung of Pola (in Istria), and the king’s faithful comrade, Dietleib of Styria, with all their men.
In the morning the old master called the king, and told him that the time was come to fight for his land and people. The hero of Bern made a mighty effort to master his grief. He pressed a last kiss on the pale lips of his dead wife, and passed away on his march to the great battle.
The emperor had already subdued the duke of Spoleto, and had advanced as far north as Milan. There he encamped, and not suspecting any surprise, he and his men all went to sleep. Meanwhile Dietrich had arrived within a short distance of his camp. While the others rested, Hildebrand rode forward to see what watch the enemy kept, and finding them unprepared, he advised an immediate onslaught.
The imperial forces were suddenly aroused by the battle cry, “Hey for Bern! Hey for the red lion!” They hastily got ready for the fray. The battle raged furiously. Dietrich and his followers were far outnumbered by the foe, but that only made them fight with the more desperation. And which of them could have failed to do his duty under such a leader?
Wolfhart cried, “If we must die, let each man throw his shield behind him, and take his sword in both hands.”
He did as he said, and Sigestab and Eckehart followed his example.
Wittich and Heime fought bravely as of old, but they avoided their former chief, and were at length carried away in the general flight. For the imperial troops were routed by a flank movement made by Hildebrand.
Ermenrich went back to Romaburg in a very bad humour. He felt inclined to hang Sibich and Ribestein for leading him into a scrape, yet he refrained, as he hardly knew what he could have done without them.
Dietrich sent the treasure gained in Milan home to Bern under the charge of some of his comrades, and Berchtung of Pola undertook to provide pack-horses on which to convey it. The convoy travelled by forced marches, but when they reached the lake of Garden, and saw the stars mirrored in its bosom, and heard the plashing of the waterfall, Amelolt thought, that being in the land of the Wolfings, they need no longer fear robbers, and might enjoy a little needful rest. The wearied men hailed his proposition with joy, and, after supping on the provisions in their wallets, soon fell asleep on the soft turf. Hildebrand with ten of his followers tried to keep awake, but they were so tired that the sound of the murmuring water acted on them like a lullaby, and soon they were sleeping as soundly as the rest.
At daybreak they were roughly wakened. Wild faces glared upon them, strong hands bound them, and scornful laughter echoed in their ears. Four of the warriors, who had sought to defend themselves sword in hand, were cut down. The others were all bound and carried away with the treasure.
They had not been prisoners long before the comrades saw that they had fallen into the hands of their deadly enemy—faithless Sibich. He had heard of their journey in charge of the treasure, and had brought his troops by sea to Garden, had lain in wait near the lake, and had then fallen upon the sleeping men. Thus it was that the brave heroes were conquered by cunning.
One warrior had escaped the common misfortune, and this was Dietleib, the hero of Styria. He was sleeping in a thicket a little apart from the rest, when Sibich’s men fell on the camp. Hearing the noise, he sprang to his feet, slew several of the men-at-arms, mounted his horse and fled to Bern, a bearer of sad tidings. He found every one there in great anxiety. Ermenrich had again invaded the country, had taken Milan, Raben (Ravenna), and Mantua, and, worse than that, many of Dietrich’s men had deserted him, and joined the enemy.
The warriors who preserved their faith, and were determined to die with their lord if needful, were few in number. A message was sent to Ermenrich that the hero of Bern was willing to exchange his prisoners of war for his brave comrades. The answer he received was, that he might do with his prisoners as he liked—the warriors the emperor had taken were all condemned to be hanged. This was the worst news Dietrich had ever heard.
Then the lady Ute, Hildebrand’s high-hearted wife, arose, and, accompanied by other noble ladies, went to the enemy’s camp and entered the presence of Ermenrich. She offered him in exchange for the prisoners Sibich had just made, all her jewels, and those of all the other women and maidens of Bern. Ermenrich told her harshly that what she offered him was his already, and that if the king wished his comrades to be set free, he and they must leave the country as beggars, on foot, and leading their horses.
Hildebrand's wife could not bear to hear that. She had fallen on her knees before the emperor; but now she rose, and told him proudly that the heroes of Bern and their wives knew how to die, but not how to leave their country in dishonour. The women left the camp in deep sorrow.
When Dietrich heard the bad news, he had a long struggle with himself. He had been victorious before with smaller numbers to support him, but victory was always uncertain, and how could he allow his dear old master, and noble Berchtung, brave Wolfhart, Amelolt, Sigeband, Helmschrot, and Lindolt, to die a shameful death? It was a hard struggle. At length he bowed his head to necessity. He consented to Ermenrich’s terms.
On being set free from prison, his comrades received their horses and arms again, and then they, and other faithful souls, three and forty men in all, accompanied their lord on his sad journey. There was not a dry eye in Bern when the king went away, and even in foreign lands the fate of Dietrich and his comrades was spoken of with bated breath.
The heroes would not mount their horses when they had crossed the borders of the imperial domains, for the king walked on unheeding over the wild mountain roads. So the small band of brave men wandered through the beautiful Danubian land, and approached Bechelaren, where Margrave Rüdiger held court. There they received a brotherly welcome.
One day, when they had been some time at Bechelaren, Dietrich, who had been thinking of the contrast between his desolated home and the smiling land he saw before him, said, with a deep sigh, that everywhere around him was peace and unity, and he would like to remain there for ever and forget his woes.
Wolfhart reproached him vehemently for wishing to forget his home, adding, “If that is the case, I shall go back and fight till my last drop of blood is shed.”
“Not so fast, young hero,” answered the Margrave, “King Etzel owes thanks for the help once granted him. I will go with you to the court at Susat, and am certain that he will help you to regain the land of the Amelungs.”
WALTER AND HILDEGUNDE TAKEN AS HOSTAGES BY THE HUNS.
When Etzel became king of the Huns, he was the mightiest of all chieftains, but his lust of power was not satisfied. He collected a great army, and falling upon the land of the Franks, demanded tribute with threats of devastation. The Frankish king was unprepared to defend himself, so he paid large sums of money, and gave as hostage for his good faith, the boy Hagen of Tronje (Tronege). His own son was too young, being yet in the cradle.
The Huns went on to Burgundy, where they also levied tribute, and received as hostage the king’s daughter Hildegunde, a child of four years old. They were equally successful with King Alphar of Aquitaine, who paid them much red gold, and gave them his young son Walter as hostage.
Hagen and Walter early showed great warlike ability. They learnt from the Huns to ride, throw the spear, and fight after the German fashion, and few could equal them in manly sports. Hildegunde became very lovely, and was a great favourite with the queen. Time went on, and these young people all grew up. Helche advised her husband to marry Hagen and Walter to Hunnish maidens of high degree, so as to confirm them in their devotion to himself, and their adopted country; but the youths did not admire the beauties of that nation, whose blubber-lips did not provoke a kiss. Walter was more attracted by slender Hildegunde’s rosy mouth, fair curls, and blue eyes, than by any of the daughters of the land; and he was more pleasing in her eyes than the bow-legged Hun whom the queen desired her to marry.
Meanwhile the Franks and Burgundians had thrown off the yoke of the Huns, and Etzel did not dare to enforce it in the then condition of affairs. Hagen one day found out what had chanced, and, according to one account, he made his escape to his own people, but, according to another, was sent home loaded with honours. But Etzel did his best to keep Walter with him, for he knew his bravery and worth.
Once when the king returned with his warriors from conquering an invading horde, he gave a great feast, and asked Hildegunde to sing him a song. The maiden complied, and sang about her old home and her mother, and how she trusted to return to them once more, when the hero came for whom she waited. Etzel did not take in the sense of her song, as she had expected; he had raised the wine-cup to his lips too often for that. But Queen Helche understood, and determined to watch Walter and the maiden, lest they should fly together.
Walter, too, had understood the meaning of the song, and soon found an opportunity of arranging matters with Hildegunde regarding their flight.
“Do not sleep to-night,” he whispered one evening, “but slip into the treasure-chamber, and take as much gold and silver as you can carry out of the seventh chest; it is part of the tribute money that your father and mine paid the Huns long ago. Put the money you have taken in two caskets, and bring them down to the hall. You will find me waiting for you at the gate with two saddled horses. We shall be gone a long time before the drunken Huns find out that we have escaped them.”
WALTER AND HILDEGUNDE HALT IN THE FOREST.
They carried out Walter’s plan in every particular, and made their way to Bechelaren first, then to the Rhine, and finally to the mountains of Wasgengau (Vosges), in the highest of which, the Wasgenstein, they found a cave with such a narrow entrance that one man could there defend himself against an army. Walter wished to rest awhile, for he had had but little sleep during their long and toilsome journey, so he asked the maiden to keep watch, lest a sudden attack should be made upon them. He had not been long asleep when Hildegunde saw the sheen of armour in the distance. She wakened the hero, telling him that the Huns were upon them.
“These are not Huns, but Burgundians,” he answered, starting to his feet. And he found they were messengers sent by King Gunther, to demand that the treasure should be given up to him. Walter offered to hand over a shield full of gold, but this was refused, and the fray began. But the assailants could only approach one at a time; so the hero, who had learnt from the Huns to throw the javelin, was able to kill them one after the other with these missiles, and, when they failed, with his sword. Hagen had come with Gunther’s men, but he stood apart during the fight, siding with neither party; only when he saw his friends falling fast, his hand involuntarily sought his sword, but he did not draw it. He returned to the king, and advised him to try an ambush.
Next day, as Walter and Hildegunde were continuing their journey across the open country, they were set upon by two men in complete armour, who sprang out upon them from behind a clump of bushes. They were Hagen and King Gunther. Despairing of flight, Walter leapt off his horse, and they did the same. With wonderful agility, he dodged, now to the right, now to the left, to avoid their blows; at length his sword cut through one of King Gunther’s greaves, and the edge entered the bone of the leg. He stood over the fallen king, and was about to deal him a death-blow, when a stroke from Hagen disabled his sword-arm. He dropt the sword, but with his left hand drew his dagger, and plunged it into Hagen’s eye. Seeing them all three disabled, Hildegunde came forward to propose a truce, and bound up all their wounds; after which she and Walter went on their way in peace. They arrived at Aquitaine without further adventure, and were there married. The young hero in later days always took part with the Burgundians and Ermenrich, as we saw before when Dietleib challenged him at Romaburg.
But now we must return to Dietrich and Etzel. When the hero of Bern desired Etzel’s help in freeing the land of the Amelungs from the tyranny of the usurper, he found that it was impossible for the latter to grant it. His hands were already overfull with his own quarrels.
Waldemar, king of the Reussen, and brother of that Osantrix whom Etzel had formerly slain, and whose daughter he had married, now invaded his borders, and threatened to overrun the country. In truth, Etzel needed Dietrich’s help, and the latter did not hesitate to grant it.
The war lasted a long time. Many men were slain, and much fair land was devastated before the invaders were forced to retire. Dietrich himself was so severely wounded that it was some time before he felt like himself again. There was one thing which happened during the war that saddened and shamed honest Margrave Rüdiger, and that was the remembrance of the way in which Etzel had on one occasion fled before Waldemar, thereby proving the latter the better man. Indeed every one felt that the defeat of the Reussen was owing more to the leadership and heroism of the hero of Bern than to any other cause.
Etzel pursued the enemy within their own borders, and forced them to pay him tribute.
Dietrich was held in high honour by the Huns, but they did not see the advantage of helping him to regain his own land, and he felt sad at heart. At last Queen Helche thought of a way to make him happy. She proposed to give him her beautiful niece Herrat to wife, and then they might rule together over the princess’s fair land of Transylvania. Dietrich and Herrat made no objection to the marriage, which was soon afterwards celebrated. But Etzel erred in thinking that the hero of Bern would ever be content to sink into the position of a vassal of the Hunnish empire. Neither he nor Herrat were made of such slight stuff, and Etzel was obliged after all to give the help he had before refused.
“Going back to Bern! Dietrich is going to Bern! We are to have a campaign in Lombardy,” was the cry which rang through the land of the Huns.
Yes; Dietrich was really going back, accompanied by many brave comrades new and old, and at the head of a large army. Even Etzel’s two sons, mere boys as they were, insisted on going too. The line of march lay through the great mountains and fair plains of Lombardy. Amelolt (Amelung) and Hildebrand, at the head of the Wölfings, stormed Garden, and took the fortress. But the old master had not time to stay and embrace the Lady Ute and his son Hadubrand, for they were not in the castle at the time, and he had to rejoin the army without delay. He came up with the rest at Padauwe (Padua), which Dietrich failed to subdue. The army, leaving Padauwe behind it, moved on to Bern, from which Dietrich heard that Ermenrich’s men had been expelled by the citizens.
At length the hero was at home in his beloved Bern, where he was received with great rejoicings. He had not long to rest; for a few days after his arrival, Alpher came, bringing a message from Duke Friedrich of Raben (Ravenna), that the Emperor Ermenrich was besieging his town, therefore he begged the hero’s assistance. The Bernese forces made a rapid march, and arrived unexpectedly in the neighbourhood of the imperial army.
It was of no use to send out scouts. The foe lay hidden in every thicket. Dietrich asked his heroes which of them would undertake to gain the enemy’s outpost, and immediately young Alphart, the Lady Ute’s foster-son, declared himself ready. Others wished to have the duty; but he had spoken first, and it was given to him.
The youthful hero rode on towards the dangerous outposts. Suddenly, spears and arrows rained round him, and fell rattling from helm and shield. But they did no harm, for his armour had been made by dwarfs. The enemy’s leader rode up to him, and desired him to yield, saying that he might give him his sword without shame, for he was Duke Wölfing, and would return the weapon to Alphart when he was ransomed.
“What?” cried the hero, “are you Duke Wölfing, the only traitor of our race? You shall have your wages here to-day, and from my hands.”
The combat between the two men was short. Alphart slew his opponent. Upon this, the duke’s retainers hastened up to avenge him, but the young hero killed half of them, and put the rest to flight.
“A spirit from the nethermost hell has come to fight for Dietrich,” cried the men-at-arms. “It slew more than fifty of us single-handed, and we ourselves hardly escaped with our lives.”
“Do you not know that the hero of Bern is a son of the devil?” was the answer; “and what is more natural than that a father should come to his child’s assistance? No mortal man can be expected to fight with such a foe.”
“I will go out and see if it be not made of flesh and blood,” cried stout Wittich. “Even though it had all hell at its back, I care not; I must have a turn with it.”
He armed himself quickly, and caught up a sword without noticing that it was not Mimung. Heime, whose life he had saved a short time before, offered to go with him, and avenge him should he fall.
Alphart recognised the men from a distance.
“Ye are two faithless comrades,” he cried, “and have come to meet your doom.”
The combat between him and Wittich began forthwith, and the latter soon perceived that he had not Mimung. He was twice felled to the ground. In his sore distress, he called on his comrade to help him; but Heime hesitated, because it was considered dishonourable for two warriors to fight against one. When Alphart, however, called upon Wittich to yield, if he would not be slain on the spot, Heime sprang forward, and covered his comrade with his shield, thus enabling him to get to his feet again. After which both warriors attacked the young hero.
Alphart was as active on foot as he was strong of hand. He felled Heime, but Wittich came to his help, and so the battle went on. The three warriors bled from many wounds; but it was Heime’s hand that finally dealt the death-blow.
“Faithless comrades that ye are,” sighed the dying Alphart, “the curse of your dishonourable deeds will follow you to the grave.”
The conquerors left the place of combat in silence. They did not noise abroad the fame of their deed. Yet their armour was bloody, and they were sorely wounded. The men-at-arms whispered in mysterious tones:
“They have been fighting with that spirit from hell, have slain it, but have seen some terrible sight.”
The news of Alphart’s death was received with deep sorrow in the Bernese camp. Dietrich prepared to offer battle to the emperor on the following day, and made all necessary dispositions in case he fell in the fight.
Master Hildebrand held watch. Not contented with keeping a distant look-out on the enemy’s movements, he went to see with his own eyes what was passing within their lines. A thick mist covered the earth, and hid every object from view. Suddenly the old master and his companion, Eckehart, heard the tramp of a horse. They drew their swords, and waited. At the same moment the moon broke through the mist, and they recognised by its light Rinold of Milan, who, although one of Ermenrich’s men, was at the same time a friend of theirs. They greeted each other heartily, and Rinold said that if he might advise Dietrich, he would counsel him to return to the land of the Huns, where he had made himself a home; for the emperor was too powerful to be overthrown.
After taking leave of their friend, Hildebrand looked about carefully, and discovered a path leading through a wood by which he could outflank the imperial forces unperceived. On his return to the camp, he arranged with Dietrich that he should take three divisions by this path, and fall upon the enemy at daybreak. Meantime, the king was to be ready to attack in front, the moment he heard Hildebrand’s horn sound to the rear of the enemy.
No sooner had the sun risen than the battle began. Great deeds of valour were done on either side. It were an endless task to tell of each hero’s achievements. Among those who fell were the two young sons of Etzel, who showed themselves worthy of their name.
During the course of that day, Dietrich and Wittich met at last, and it was in this wise. Twilight was drawing on apace, when Wittich, led by his evil star, or by his companion, Rinold of Milan, went back to visit the outpost. Dietrich saw them go, and, remounting, galloped across the valley towards the height, and the other two turned to meet him. When Wittich saw the king riding towards him, his face distorted by the angry spirit that possessed him, and his breath issuing from his mouth like flames of fire, a terror he had never known before overmastered him. He turned his horse and fled, followed by Rinold.
“Halt, cowards, halt!” cried the king. “Two against one! surely ye are strong enough?”
“Halt, comrade!” said Rinold, “I cannot bear the shame of this.”
Wittich turned; but no sooner did he see the terrible face and flaming breath of his old leader, than he fled once more, leaving Rinold alone to bear the brunt of the attack.
“Stop, traitor,” shouted Dietrich. “You have the sword Mimung in your hand, with which you once conquered me at Bern, and do you now fear to stand?”
But Wittich, by encouraging words, and a free use of the spur, urged his noble steed to a yet swifter pace. The king did the same, and Falcon was even fleeter than Wittich’s gallant charger. The surf might now be heard beating on the sea-shore. The fugitive warrior reached the strand. He could fly no farther. And behold, at the same moment, two white arms and a woman’s head rose out of the waves.
“Wachilde—ancestress—save me—hide me from that spirit of hell,” he cried, and took the terrible leap.
And Wachilde received him in her arms, and bore him to her crystal hall at the bottom of the sea. Dietrich did not hesitate to follow. The waters swept over him and his horse, but Falcon rose again and swam through the roaring surf to the shore. The king looked all about, but Wittich had vanished. He could see nothing but the foaming waves. Sadly the king returned to the camp, having found neither the vengeance nor the death he had sought.
The Huns declared that they would return home as soon as they had buried their princes with fitting honour. Dietrich heard their determination unmoved. He was thinking of those who had fallen. Master Hildebrand, on the other hand, did what he could to induce them to follow up the victory that they had gained the previous day; but it was labour lost. They had had enough of fighting at the battle of Ravenna.
Broken-hearted, Dietrich returned to King Etzel, by whom he was received with the greatest kindness, in spite of all that had come and gone. He sank into a state of sorrowful brooding and melancholy, until at length Herrat, his faithful wife, came to him, and spoke words of comfort and encouragement. And he roused from his dull woe, and started again for fair Lombardy, accompanied by the Queen.
The King, Queen, and the old Master took leave of Etzel, who was too sad about the death of his boys to take much interest in their coming or going.
The travellers at length came to a wooded hill with a castle perched on the top. This castle belonged to a robber-knight named Elsung, who had always been an enemy of the Amelungs and Wölfings. The old master, who acted as guide, and led the way, bade the king be prepared. He did not speak a moment too soon, for Elsung at the same instant appeared, followed by some horsemen. The robber-knight drew rein, and haughtily demanded, as toll from the travellers, their horses and armour, Hildebrand’s long beard, and the beautiful woman who accompanied them.
“We need our horses and armour that we may fight in the land of the Amelungs,” said Hildebrand, “and we cannot spare the woman, for she acts as our cook.”
“Nay, then, you are Amelungs yourselves,” cried Elsung, “and must each give me your right hand and left foot as ransom. If you refuse, I will have your heads as well, that I may avenge my father, whom Samson slew.”
The heroes deigned no further answer. They paid another toll than that demanded with the points of their swords and spears, and with such hearty good will that Elsung’s men were either slain, or else took to flight, and their lord himself was finally overthrown and bound.
As Hildebrand was about to tie the prisoner to a horse, Elsung said:
“You are Ermenrich’s men, so I will tell you the news that has just reached me. The brothers of the Lady Swanhilde, whom the emperor had trodden to death by horses, have fallen upon him, and have cut off his hands and feet.”
“Ha!” cried the hero of Bern, “do you bring such good news? Take your liberty in payment thereof.”
The travellers now pursued their journey, and after meeting with several more adventures, at last arrived safely at Garden, where they were at first received with suspicion; but the Lady Ute recognised her husband the moment she saw him, and Hadubrand was introduced to his brave old father, whom he had not seen since his childhood.
The hero of Bern was welcomed with the utmost joy by his people, and soon collected an army, which among its most celebrated warriors numbered brave Lodwig and his son Konrad, faithful Eckehart and his comrade Hache. Nor was Heime wanting; he had done penance for his sins in a cloister, and now, hearing of Dietrich’s return, hastened to him to renew his oath, death having released him from the fealty he had formerly owed to Ermenrich.
Dietrich’s and Sibich’s forces met. A terrible battle took place. Dietrich fought with heroic valour, sweeping down all before him. Eckehart and Hache sought untiringly for faithless Sibich, and at last they recognised him among the fugitives, although he had cast from him all signs of the imperial dignity he had usurped. Eckehart seized him by the scruff of the neck, swung him before him on his horse, and galloped back to the camp.
“Remember the Harlungs,” he cried, and immediately ordered a gallows to be erected.
Sibich entreated for life, bare life. He offered much red gold to have his death put off for even a short space, but—
“Remember the Harlungs,” was the only answer he received.
And so the victory was won. The hero of Bern marched to Romaburg at the head of his army. He was everywhere met by the princes of the land of the Amelungs. They greeted him as their chief, and on his arrival at Romaburg he received the imperial crown.
Herrat was a faithful wife and helpmeet. The old master and many of his other ancient friends were round him; but in the midst of his glory Dietrich could not forget the faithful comrades who had died in his service, the friends who had given him their all, and to whom he could no longer show either love or kindness.
His power was great. The empire was more extensive than it had ever been before, and peace reigned within its borders. Once, indeed, a giant had committed great devastations within the land, and Heime had sought him out, but only to be slain. Dietrich himself had then gone forth, and had conquered the monster. It was the last combat in which the aged hero ever took part.