Tale XXIII: How Hilda’s Warriors Landed in Sight of Hartmut’s Kingdom

Before the hill they landed, / in sight of the leafy grove;
Wary to be, and daring, / them did it now behoove.
First they dropped their anchors, / deep the waters under;
In a lonely spot were they hidden, / where none could see, nor at their coming wonder.

Then from the ships, to rest them, / they stepped upon the beach.
Hey! what they had longed for / was now within their reach!
A stream of pure, cold water, / through the fir-trees flowing,
Ran down the wooded hillside, / upon the wave-worn knights new life bestowing.

While the weary warriors / were resting and asleep,
Irold soon had clambered, / there his watch to keep,
Into a tree high-branching. / He then began to ponder
Which way they should be taking; / and, lo! the Norman land he saw with wonder.

“Now, my youths, be merry!” / thus cried the youthful knight.
“My cares indeed are lightened, / for now I have in sight
Seven lofty palaces, / with roomy halls wide-spreading;
Before to-morrow’s midday, / the land of Normandy shall we be treading.”

Then said the wise old Wâ-te: / “Up to the sands now bear
All your shields and weapons, / whate’er in fight you wear.
Let every one be busy, / and let the youths be hastened;
At once lead out the horses; / helmets and breastplates must with straps be fastened.

“And now, if any outfits / are not good to wear,
Nor meet for you in fighting, / to that I’ll give my care.
The queen, my lady Hilda, / has sent with us already
Full five hundred breastplates; / these will we give to any who are needy.”

Quickly were the horses / forth on the sea-beach led;
And all the showy horse-cloths, / that should on them be spread,
Were by the men unfolded, / and laid on steeds in waiting,
To see which best beseemed them; / and each then took the one he deemed most fitting.

In leaping, and in galloping / up and down the shore,
They rode, and watched the horses; / many, strong before,
Now were dull and sluggish, / nor longer quick at running;
Too long had they been standing, / and Wâ-te had them killed, as not worth owning.

Fires by the men were lighted; / and good and hearty food,
The best that could be met with / so near the shore and flood,
By the tired and hungry wanderers / soon was cooked and eaten.
They had not hoped beforehand / that rest like this their toilsome life would sweeten.

Throughout the night they rested, / till dawn of the coming day.
To Ortwin Wâ-te and Fru-te / each his mind did say;
Talking aside on the seashore, / many a threat was spoken
Against their Norman foemen, / who into the Hegeling castle erst had broken.

“Men must we now be sending,” / to them young Ortwin said,
“Who shall tidings bring us, / if they be not yet dead,
About my long-lost sister / and many a homeless maiden;
For when on them I’m thinking, / my heart is heavy, oft with sorrow laden.”

Together they bethought them, / whom they hence should send,
By whom the news they wished for / might with truth be gained,
And who could tell them rightly / where to find the maiden;
By them, too, must the errand / on which they came, from foes be wisely hidden.

Then spake the youthful Ortwin, / who from Ortland came,
A faithful knight as any: / “Myself for the search I name;
The maid, Gu-drun, is my sister, / child of my father and mother;
Of all, however worthy, / am I more fit to go than any other.”

Then spake the kingly Herwic: / “I too will go with thee;
To live or die I am ready, / seeking the maid to free.
To you she is a sister, / but to me for a wife they gave her;
To her am I ever faithful, / nor for a day uncared-for will I leave her.”

Then quoth Wâ-te angrily: / “’Tis childish thus to speak,
Brave and chosen warriors: / such risks you should not seek,
And this for truth I tell you. / Spurn you not my warning;
Should you be found by Hartmut, / you’ll on his gallows hang, your rashness mourning.”

To him King Herwic answered: / “Though good or ill betide,
Friends should aye be friendly, / standing side by side.
I and my friend, young Ortwin, / will ne’er the task give over,
Whatever shall befall us, / and search will make till we Gu-drun recover.”

When now upon this errand / both were bent to go,
They sent for friends and kinsfolk, / and did their wishes show.
They bade them to be faithful, / and said the oaths then taken
Must never be forgotten, / and they who went must never be forsaken.

“Of your pledges I remind you,” / the youthful Ortwin said:
“If we, by foemen taken, / should be in bondage led,
You with gold must free us, / and so our bonds must loosen;
Lands must you sell and castles, / nor ever sorrow feel that thus you’ve chosen.

“And, warriors brave, now hearken / to what we more will say;
If foes our life begrudge us, / and us in fight shall slay,
Be not our death forgotten, / let it on them be wroken:
Your swords in Hartmut’s kingdom / must make your daring there be loudly spoken.

“This we further bid you, / my good and well-born knights:
E’en though, with toil the hardest, / every warrior fights,
Let not those homeless maidens / be by you forsaken;
Until the strife is settled, / let not their hope and trust in you be shaken.”

Their faith then freely pledging, / each gave to the king his hand;
And all the best among them / swore that home and land
They nevermore would look on, / but still afar would tarry,
Until again to their homesteads / they from the Norman land the maids should carry.

All of them were faithful, / but yet were weeping sore;
They feared the hate of Ludwig, / and ills for them in store.
That they could send no others / they were deeply mourning;
And all were sadly thinking, / “No one now can death from them be turning.”

All day they talked together; / it now was near its end:
The sun, that low was sinking, / thro’ clouds its beams did send:
Erelong it sank o’er Gulstred, / and there at last was hidden.
Ortwin and Herwic tarried, / that night to go, by the waning light forbidden.