Tale XVI: How Hilda Sent to Hettel and Herwic to Ask Their Help Against Hartmut

The fair and queenly Hilda, / with all her will and mind,
Gave her thoughts now wholly / trusty men to find
To bear the tale to Hettel. / Her heart indeed was riven
By the wrongful deeds of Hartmut, / and food for tears he to her eyes had given.

To Herwic and her husband / she bade that it be said
That foes had seized her daughter, / that many knights lay dead;
And she was left in wretchedness, / lonely and forsaken;
That all her gold and jewels / the Normans on their way had with them taken.

Quickly rode the heralds / and through the land they went:
The queen in greatest sorrow / these on their way had sent.
Upon the seventh morning, / they came where they were greeted
With the sight of beleaguering Hegelings / who before their Moorland foes were seated.

Oft in knightly matches / strove they every day,
And one might also hear them / at many a game and play,
That they might not be weary / who the siege were keeping;
Some at a mark were shooting, / and others strove in running and in leaping.

When by the Danish Horant / errand-bearers were seen
Who to the land were coming, / thither sent by the queen,
Then said he unto Hettel: / “With news for us they’re riding;
May God in kindness grant it, / no ill to those at home is now betiding!”

The king himself went forward, / and met them where they stood.
He said, with seemly bearing, / to them in their sorry mood:
“Brave knights, I give you welcome / here to this far-off border.
How fares it with Queen Hilda? / Who sent you here? and who is left to guard her?”

Said one: “Your lady sent us; / to you for help she turns:
Wasted are your castles; / your lands the foeman burns.
Gu-drun from thence is carried; / her maidens, too, are taken:
Never can your kingdom / from all these woes and ills again awaken.

“This must I say, moreover, / we are in straitest need;
Now of your men and kindred / a thousand there lie dead;
And into far-off kingdoms / have foes your riches carried;
Your hoard of wealth is scattered: / it shames good knights that thus your lands are harried.”

The king then bade them tell him / who these deeds had done.
One among them answered, / and their names to him made known:
“Ludwig was one, the Norman; / with many knights he fought us;
Hartmut, his son, was the other: / ’twas they the inroad made, and havoc wrought us.”

Then King Hettel answered: / “To Hartmut I would not give,
For his bride, Gu-drun my daughter; / for this he now doth strive
To waste with war my kingdom. / I know his lands are holden
Of Hagen, her mother’s father; / to woo her should his rank not him embolden.

“To our beleaguered foemen / we nought of this must tell,
And to our friends but whisper / the ills that us befell;
We then must call our kinsmen / hither to be hasting.
Worse could never happen / unto good knights at home, from warfare resting.”

Herwic then was bidden / to Hettel forthwith to go:
Hettel’s friends and kindred / and his men were sent for, too.
When now these knights so worthy / their way to him had taken,
They found their king and master / dark in mind, and of every hope forsaken.

Then said the lord of the Hegelings: / “To you I make my moan;
And, trusting in your friendship, / my sorrows must I own:
The queen, my Lady Hilda, / has sent to give us warning,
That the men of the Hegeling kingdom / are ill bestead, and bitterly are mourning.

“My lands with fire are wasted, / and my castle broken down;
Ill our walls were guarded / while we from home were gone:
Foes have seized my daughter; / my kin in death are sleeping;
My trusty men are slaughtered / to whom I left my land and name in keeping.”

Herwic now was weeping, / in his eyes the tear-drops stood;
Wet were the eyes of Hettel, / and fast they overflowed:
So it was with others, / at seeing them thus weeping;
Every one was sorrowful / who, near the king, his faith to him was keeping.

Then said the aged Wâ-te: / “Further of this say nought.
For all the woe and losses / these friends to us have brought,
Soon will we repay them, / and we shall yet be gladdened;
Ludwig’s kin and Hartmut’s / shall at our hands for this erelong be saddened.”

Hettel asked in wonder: / “How can that be done?”
To him old Wâ-te answered: / “’Tis best that peace be won
Now with the king of Moorland, / with whom we yet are warring;
Our men, who here besiege him, / to seek for fair Gu-drun we may then be sparing.”

Wise was the aged Wâ-te, / the words he spake were meet:
“To-morrow morning early, / let us with Siegfried treat;
And we ought so to bear us / that he shall well be knowing
That, should we not allow it, / he with his men can ne’er be homeward going.”

Then said the daring Herwic: / “Wâ-te has spoken right;
To-day must you be thinking / how, with the morrow’s light,
You all before the foeman / may show a warlike bearing:
It gives me pain that women / should make us leave our siege, and hence be faring.”

Then they got together / horses and clothes with speed;
Unto the words of Wâ-te / they readily gave heed.
When the day was dawning, / they again were striving
’Gainst those from Abakia. / Great praise for this were all to them soon giving.

On every side, with banners, / they to the field did throng;
Many, sound in body, / there were slain erelong:
Wâ-te’s men from Sturmland / “Nearer! Nearer!” shouted;
But those they would o’ermaster / were quicker yet in fight, and nought it booted.

Soon the knightly Irold, / over the edge of his shield,
Called out, “Men of Moorland, / to peace with us will you yield?
King Hettel bids us ask you, / will you this be choosing?
Your lands so far are lying, / that you your goods and men will else be losing.”

Siegfried, lord of Moorland, / answered to him thus:
“Would you for peace have pledges, / then win the fight o’er us;
With no one will I bargain / for aught my name may lessen:
If you think to overcome us, / you will the more by this your losses hasten.”

Then spake the knightly Fru-te: / “If help to us you’ll give,
And pledge your word to do it, / your stronghold you may leave
And go from my master’s kingdom, / without more bloody fighting.”
The Moors from Karadie / on this stretched forth the hand, their faith thus plighting.

There came to strife a stand-still, / this I for truth may say.
The glad and happy warriors / met that selfsame day;
Those who erst were foemen / their help to each other granted.
They both had quenched their hatred; / to fight the Normans now was all they wanted.

Then to Siegfried of Moorland / at once King Hettel told
All the heavy tidings / that he in his breast did hold;
He pledged to him his friendship, / so long as he was living,
If Hartmut’s foul misdoing / now to repay, his help he would be giving.

To him the lord of Alzabie, / the Moorish Siegfried said:
“Knew we where to find them, / they should our coming dread.”
The aged Wâ-te answered: / “I can show you nearly
Their path across the water: / and we perhaps on the sea may meet them early.”

Then to them all spake Hettel: / “Where can ships be sought?
And, if I wish to harm them, / how bring my wish about?
I might at home make ready / within their lands to seek them,
And there, when I had found them, / my anger for my wrongs should quick o’ertake them.”

To him then said old Wâ-te: / “In this I can help you still;
God is ever mighty / to do whate’er he will.
I know within these borders / now are lying near us
Well-made ships full seventy; / filled with food, these barks from the sands will bear us.

“In them have wandering pilgrims / sailed the waters o’er:
Their ships, whatever happens, / we must seize upon the shore;
The pilgrims must be willing / that on the sand we leave them,
Until our Norman foemen / make good our wrongs, or we again shall brave them.”

At once old Wâ-te started, / no longer would he wait;
A hundred knights went with him, / the others lingered yet.
He said he came for buying; / what could the pilgrims sell him?
For this men died thereafter, / and, for himself, but sorry luck befell him.

On the shore he found the pilgrims,— / this I know is true,—
Fully thirty hundred, / I ween, and better, too.
To fight were they unready, / and could not rouse them quickly:
Nearer came King Hettel, / and with him led his men, now crowding thickly.

Their goods the pilgrims guarded, / yet Wâ-te sent on shore
All that he had no need for, / of silver and clothes a store;
But the food was left on shipboard, / so old Wâ-te chooses:
He said he should come hereafter, / and would reward them well for all their losses.

Sadly mourned the pilgrims, / for sorest was their need;
But for all they said old Wâ-te / cared not a crust of bread:
The bold, unyielding warrior, / stern and never smiling,
Said: “Both ships and flatboats / they to leave to him must now be willing.”

Hettel recked but little / if ever they sailed again
Over the sea with their crosses: / then he took of their men
Five hundred at least, or over, / the best they had among them;
Of these to the Hegeling kingdom / few came back, from the death that overhung them.

I know not whether Hettel / atoned for his evil deed
Done to these poor pilgrims, / that made their hearts to bleed,
And, in a far-off kingdom, / rent their band, to their sorrow.
I ween the God in heaven / saw the wrong, and his anger showed on the morrow.

King Hettel and his followers / met with a kindly breeze,
And now their way were taking / quickly across the seas;
Seeking for their foemen, / they sailed far over the water,
Wherever they might find them, / longing to show their wrath, and bent on slaughter.