Tale XVII: How Hettel Came to the Wulpensand in Search of His Daughter

Ludwig, king of the Normans, / and Hartmut, too, his son,
Now, with all their followers, / far away had gone,
And on a lone, wild seashore, / after their toil, were resting.
Though many there were gathered, / yet little happiness they then were tasting.

’Twas on a broad, low island, / hight the Wulpensand,
That now the brave King Ludwig, / and they of the Norman land,
Shelter for men and horses / had found unto their liking;
But a doom to them most woful / erelong must come, instead of the rest they were seeking.

The very high-born maidens, / torn from the Hegeling land,
Had been led out, and wandered / along the barren sand;
So far as ’twas allowed them / to show their feelings freely,
They who had been stolen / in sadness wept before the foeman daily.

Fires upon the seashore / were seen on every side;
The men from far-off Normandy / were thinking there to abide.
Gladly with the maidens / would they seven days have rested,
And there have made them lodgings; / but every hope of this erelong was blasted.

While on this isle forsaken / Hartmut now must stay,
Loth were he and his followers / the hope to put away,
Which till now they fostered, / that they for rest might tarry
Throughout a week in the shelter / whither they the maidens fair did carry.

It was from far-off Matelan / that Ludwig and his band
The fair Gu-drun had taken / unto this lonely strand;
Nor felt they now uneasy / lest to their hidden dwelling
Wâ-te them should follow, / and never harm from him were they foretelling.

Now saw King Ludwig’s sailors, / tossing on the wave,
A ship with sails the richest. / To the king they warning gave;
But when ’twas seen by Hartmut, / and others with him standing,
That on the sails were crosses, / they said these must be pilgrims, bent on landing.

On the waters floating / three good ships were seen,
With new and well-made flatboats; / they bore across the main
Those who on their clothing / never yet wore crosses,
Their love to God thus showing. / The Normans must from them meet heavy losses.

As they the shore were nearing, / one on the ships might see
Helmets brightly shining. / No more from care were free
King Ludwig and his kinsmen, / and harm their fears foreboded:
“Look there!” then shouted Hartmut; / “with grimmest foes of mine these ships are loaded.”

The ships were turned so quickly / that now men loudly heard
Rudders strained and cracking, / held by those who steered.
Both the young and aged, / who on the sea-sands rested,
Were indeed bewildered / when to spring on shore the foeman hasted.

Ludwig and young Hartmut / their shields in hand now bore.
For them it had been easier / to reach their homes once more
If they had not too freely / their rest on the island taken:
They had falsely reckoned / that Hettel had now no friends, and was all forsaken.

Ludwig called out loudly / to all his trusty men,
(He thought it child’s play only / that he before had seen,)
“Now with worthy foemen / must I, at length, be striving!
He shall be the richer / who ’neath my flag his help to me is giving.”

Soon was Hartmut’s banner / raised upon the shore.
The ships had now come nearer; / with spears the Normans bore
To reach the foe were easy / from where they now were waiting:
I ween the aged Wâ-te / was ready with his shield, the foeman meeting.

Ne’er before so grimly / did champions guard their land.
Boldly the Hegeling warriors / nearer pressed to the strand;
Soon they met the Normans / with sword and spear, undaunted;
Blows they freely bartered: / such bargains cheaply given no more they wanted.

Everywhere the Hegelings / sprang upon the shore.
After a wind from the hill-tops / was never seen before
Snow so thickly whirling / as spears from hands that threw them:
Though they had done it gladly / idle it were to shun the strokes that slew them.

Thick fly the spears on both sides: / the time but slowly goes,
Till they on the beach are standing. / Quickly on his foes
Sprang the aged Wâ-te, / just as they were nearing;
His mood was of the grimmest, / and soon they saw what mind he now was bearing.

Ludwig, king of the Normans, / then at Wâ-te ran,
And hurled a spear well sharpened / against the brave old man.
The shaft, in splinters shattered, / high thro’ air went crashing,
For Ludwig drove it bravely; / soon to the fight came Wâ-te’s kinsmen dashing.

With a heavy stroke, old Wâ-te / Ludwig’s helmet cut;
The edge of the sword he wielded / the head of his foeman smote,
Who beneath his breastplate / a shirt of silk was wearing;
(In Abalie ’twas woven;) / were it not for this, his end he must be nearing.

Hardly from him could Ludwig / with life and limb go free;
The spot he would fain be leaving, / for Wâ-te was ill to see
When he was roused to anger, / and to win the day was trying:
Struck by his hand were many, / who, brave in warfare, now on the field lay dying.

Irold and young Hartmut / each on the other sprang:
On either side their weapons / on the foeman’s helmet rang;
Throughout the throng of fighters, / all could hear it loudly;
For bold in war was Irold, / and Hartmut, too, was brave, and bore him proudly.

Herwic from the Sealands, / a warrior strong and good,
Could not reach the landing, / but leaped into the flood,
And in the waves was standing, / up to his shoulders hidden.
Soon to his cost was he learning / how hard a task it is to win a maiden.

They the shore who guarded / their foemen thought to drown
While in the waters struggling. / Shafts at them were thrown,
And many on them broken; / but they, their foes now seeking,
Soon the sands were treading, / and many a knight his wrath on them was wreaking.

Ere they had reached the shoreland, / one saw the watery flood
Dyed by the killed and wounded, / in hue as red as blood;
Everywhere, so widely / the reddened waves were flowing,
One could not shoot beyond them, / how far soe’er he might his spear be throwing.

Heavier toil and losses / heroes never found,
And never so many warriors / lay trampled on the ground:
Enough were they for a kingdom / who lay, unwounded, dying.
The Normans who o’erthrew them, / on all sides too, I ween, in death were lying.

It was to save his daughter / that there King Hettel fought,
And all his kinsmen with him. / On every side were wrought,
By him and those who helped him, / havoc and bitter sorrow.
Dead on the Wulpensand / were many bodies found before the morrow.

Unto their lords all faithful, / they strove upon the sand,—
Alike the men of Normandy / and they of the Hegeling land.
Warriors brave from Denmark / fought with matchless daring;
He ne’er should wait their onset / who much for his welfare or his life was caring.

Morunc and with him Ortwin / boldly held their ground,
And for themselves won honor; / nowhere could be found
Men who greater slaughter / wrought, with hearts undaunted:
The heroes twain, with their followers, / gave full many wounds, with spears well planted.

Proudly the men from Moorland, / as I have heard it said,
When from their ships they landed, / the way to the foemen led.
Hettel hoped, in his struggle, / help from them to be gaining,
For they were daring fighters: / one saw the blood beneath their helmets raining.

How could he who led them / have braver or bolder been?
That day he dimmed with life-blood / many breastplates’ sheen;
Siegfried it was, unyielding / in storm of battle ever.
How could the Danish Fru-te, / or even Wâ-te the old, have shown them braver?

Thickly hurled were lances, / hither and thither thrown:
Ortwin, with his followers, / in hopeful mood came on;
Helmets that day he shattered, / blows upon them dealing.
Gu-drun was bitterly weeping: / her women, too, were deepest sorrow feeling.

The strife, on both sides, lasted / throughout the livelong day;
Longing to reach each other, / they crowded to the fray.
There to knights and warriors / must the fight go badly,
Where the friends of Hettel / to win his daughter back were striving gladly.

The evening sun sank lower; / and for King Hettel now
His losses grew the greater. / King Ludwig’s men, I trow,
Did their best in fighting, / but could not flee the slaughter;
Their foes they wounded deeply, / and guarded thus Gu-drun from those who sought her.

The strife began at morning; / by night alone ’twas stopped,
And steadily had lasted; / they ne’er their weapons dropped.
The old and young together / gained no shame in fighting.
Now the brave King Hettel / forward pressed, the king of the Normans meeting.