Tale XVIII: How Ludwig Slew Hettel, and Stole Away in the Night

High in hand their weapons / Hettel and Ludwig bore,—
Well had they been sharpened. / Soon each knew the more
Who was now his foeman, / such strength they both were showing.
Ludwig slew King Hettel; / and out of this our mournful tale is growing.

When the lord of Matelan / upon the field lay slain,
Soon ’twas told to his daughter: / loudly then began
Gu-drun to mourn her father, / so did many a maiden;
Not one could stop her wailing: / friends and foes alike were sorrow-laden.

Soon as the grim old Wâ-te / the death of the king did know,
He cried and roared in anger. / Like to the evening glow,
Now were helmets blazing, / beneath the strokes quick given
By him and all his followers, / who by their loss were unto madness driven.

However hard their fighting, / how could it bring them good?
Drenched was all the island / with many knights’ hot blood.
Not yet the Hegeling warriors / to think of peace were ready;
Away from the Wulpensand / they only wished to bring Gu-drun, their lady.

In stormy fight the Waal men / bewreked the death of the king;
To many a fighting Ortlander / and hard-pressed Hegeling
Those who came from Denmark / of friendship gave a token:
Soon these knights so daring / found in their hands their trusty weapons broken.

Now to avenge his father / Ortwin bravely strove:
Faithful to him did Horant / and all his followers prove.
Night the field had darkened, / the light of day was failing;
Then were given to many / wounds from which the life-blood fast was welling.

Soon, in the dark, on Horant / a Danish follower sprang;
The sword that he was holding / loud on the armor rang:
Thinking he was a foeman, / Horant at once upon him
Wrought most bitter sorrow: / a deadly wound by that warrior brave was done him.

When Horant saw that his kinsman / beneath his blow lay dead,
Then he bade that his banner / be borne with his own o’erhead.
The voice of him who was dying / told whose life he had taken
With his hand so rashly; / sorely he mourned the friend who never would waken.

Loudly called out Herwic: / “Murder here is done!
Since we can see no longer, / and daylight now is gone,
We all shall kill each other, / friends and foes together.
If this shall last till morning, / two may be left to fight, but not another.”

Where’er they saw old Wâ-te / on the stormy fighting-ground,
No one there was willing / near him to be found;
No welcome, in his madness, / was he to any giving:
Many a foe he wounded, / and laid on the spot that he would ne’er be leaving.

’Twas well the foes were sundered / until the break of day;
On either side the foemen / near each other lay,
Wounded to death or slaughtered. / Fast the light was waning,
Not yet the moon was risen, / and the Hegeling foe the field were nowhere gaining.

The warriors grim, unwillingly, / to the strife now put a stop;
The hands of all were weary / ere they gave the struggle up:
But, when the fight was over, / they near each other loitered.
Wherever fires were burning, / for each the other’s shields and helmets glittered.

Ludwig then and Hartmut, / lords of the Norman land,
Talked aside together. / Then to his faithful band
Spake the elder warrior: / “Why be longer staying
So near the brave old Wâ-te, / who all of us is madly bent on slaying?”

The wily king then bade them: / “Lie low, and be not seen,
With your heads upon your bucklers: / you then must make a din;
And so the men of the Hegelings / my plan will not be knowing,—
That, if I now can do it, / I with you all may hence unseen be going.”

Ludwig’s men and kinsmen / did as he had said:
They upon their sackbuts / and trumpets loudly played,
As if they, by their prowess, / the land had gained them wholly.
Ludwig now to his followers / showed his crafty plot and cunning fully.

Then were heard, on all sides, / mingled shouts and cries;
But wailing from the maidens / was not allowed to rise:
All who would not stop it / were threatened death by drowning,—
To be sunk beneath the waters,— / if they were sobbing heard, or loudly moaning.

Whate’er was owned by the Normans / now to the ships was ta’en;
The dead were there left lying, / e’en where they were slain.
Friends were lost to many / who, seeking, could not find them:
So few there were still living, / that many an empty ship was left behind them.

Thus unbeknown and slyly, / sailed away o’er the main
The men of the land of Normandy; / great was the women’s pain
From kinsfolk to be sundered, / and yet to hush their weeping.
Of this the men knew nothing / who now upon the Wulpensand were sleeping.

Before the day was dawning, / well were on their way
They whom the Danish warriors / had thought that morn to slay.
Then Wâ-te bade that loudly / his war-horn should be sounded;
He was in haste to follow, / and hoped erelong to fell them, deeply wounded.

On foot and on their horses, / the men of the Hegeling land
All were seen together, / flocking o’er the sand,
To fight the fleeing Normans; / never in this they rested.
Ludwig with his followers / already far upon their way had hasted.

Many ships lay empty, / and clothing there was found;
All about the Wulpensand / ’twas scattered o’er the ground;
Many weapons also / were seen, with none to bear them.
They had overslept their going, / and never to harm their foes could they come near them.

When this was told to Wâ-te, / with anger he was torn:
How for the death of Hettel / he bitterly did mourn!
And that on Ludwig’s body / his wrath he was not wreaking!
Helmets there lay shattered; / for this must many a woman’s heart be aching.

How gloomily and sadly / now, in angry mood,
Ortwin was bewailing / the loss of his warriors good!
He said: “Rouse up, my fighters! / we may perhaps o’ertake them
Before they leave these waters; / not far from shore we yet in flight may check them.”

Willingly old Wâ-te / would his bidding do:
Fru-te the winds was watching, / to learn which way they blew.
Then said he to his kinsmen: / “What helps it though we hasten?
Mark what now I tell you: / the thirty miles they’ve gained we ne’er can lessen.

“Moreover, we of fighters / have not here enough
That we in aught can harm them, / e’en should we now set off:
Scorn me not,” said Fru-te, / “and to my words give heeding;
What more to say is needful? / Your foes you cannot reach, howe’er you’re speeding.

“Bid that now the wounded / upon the ships be laid;
Then on the field of battle / let search for the dead be made,
And bid that they be buried / upon this strand forsaken,
So friends may rest together; / this good at least from them should not be taken.”

All, standing there together, / wringing their hands were seen.
For this one sorrow only, / would their lot have hapless been,—
To lose the youthful maiden, / Hilda’s lovely daughter.
How, when they saw her mother, / if home they went, could news so sad be brought her?

Then to them said Morunc: / “Would there were nothing more,
Beyond our own sad losses, / for which our hearts are sore!
Small reward will be given / for the news we home shall carry,
That Hettel dead is lying: / far from Hilda fain would I longer tarry.”

Then went the warriors searching / for the dead upon the sand.
Those they knew were Christians / who lay upon the strand,
As the Sturmisch Wâ-te bade them, / were all together carried;
Then both the old and the younger / chose a spot whereon the dead were buried.

Then said the knight, young Ortwin: / “Let us bury them here;
And thought must we be taking / to build a church full near,
That they be not forgotten, / while this their end is showing.
For it shall all their kinsmen / give of their wealth, each one his share bestowing.”

Then spake the Sturmisch Wâ-te: / “In this thou well hast said;
We now should sell the horses / and the clothing of the dead,
Who on the shore are lying; / so, since their life is ended,
Shall many poor and needy, / with the wealth they left, be holpen and befriended.”

Then asked the warrior Irold, if foes who there lay dead
Should also now be buried, / or if wolves should on them feed,
And hungry ravens tear them, / that round their bodies hovered?
Then to the wise they listened; / none of the dead were left on the field uncovered.

When now the fight was over, / and all were free from care,
Hettel, their king, they buried, / who for his daughter dear,
Upon this barren seashore, / e’en unto death had striven.
To others who had fallen, / whate’er their land and name, was burial given.

First, the men from Moorland / each by himself they laid;
The same was done for the Hegelings / found among the dead;
Unto the Normans, also, / gave they graves allotted:
Alone was each one buried, / if Christian he were or heathen, it nothing booted.

Until six days were over, / busy were they, at their best,
And never time were finding / (for the warriors took no rest)
To ask for dead and dying / the grace of God in heaven,
For sins of which they were guilty; / that they for their misdeeds should be forgiven.

Saying mass and singing / were later heard on the strand.
Never was God so worshipped, / in any other land,
For the dead in stormy fighting. / Wherever men were lying
With their death-wounds smitten, / holy priests they brought to shrive the dying.

Many there did tarry / to care for the churchly men.
A deed of gift was written, / wherein it could be seen
How of land to the brothers / three hundred hides was given.
Far and wide ’twas bruited, / that well a godly house was builded, and had thriven.

All who there were mourning / the loss of friends and kin
Gave of their wealth a tithing, / women as well as men,
For weal of the souls of any / whose bodies there lay buried.
The cloister soon was wealthy, / by the yield of three hundred hides, through toil unwearied.

Now may God in his keeping / have those who there lie dead,
And the holy men there dwelling. / Those then homeward sped
Who still upon the Wulpensand / were left among the living;
After all their sorrows, / they reached their fatherland, no more in warfare striving.