Tale XXVIII: How Herwic Slew Ludwig

Now said Herwic sadly: / “Ah, welaway! Woe’s me!
If fair Gu-drun, my lady, / my fall did lately see.
Should e’er the hour be coming / when I shall clasp the maiden,
And as a wife shall own her, / with blame and scorn shall I by her be laden.

“Sorely doth it shame me, / that now the gray old man
Thus has overthrown me.” / Forthwith he bade again
His men to raise his banner, / and ’gainst King Ludwig bear it;
Then rushed they on the foemen, / who might not flee the fight, but all must share it.

Ludwig heard behind him / an uproar loud and din;
Then he turned him quickly, / and Herwic sought again.
Soon he heard on helmets / many sword-blows stricken.
Those who stood near Ludwig / well might dread the wrath that both did quicken.

They sprang upon each other, / and fast and well they smote;
Blows on blows loud sounded / the stormy field throughout.
Who can tell how many / now in death were lying?
The day was lost to Ludwig, / who there his strength with Herwic would be trying.

Soon Gu-drun’s betrothéd / reached over Ludwig’s shield,
And smote him ’neath his helmet; / well his sword did he wield.
Him he sorely wounded, / and strength no more did leave him;
Grim death he there awaited / until King Herwic should of life bereave him.

Then Herwic with his broadsword / smote the king anew;
At once the head of Ludwig / from off his shoulders flew.
Well repaid was Herwic / for his shameful overthrowing;
The king lay dead before him. / For this fair eyes must soon be overflowing.

Ludwig’s faithful followers, / after their king was slain,
His banner to the castle / thought to bear again;
But all too far from the gateway / they had now been straying:
From them the flag was taken, / and death must them erelong with their lord be laying.

The watchman saw from the castle / how Ludwig lost his life;
Then was heard the mourning / of knights and many a wife:
Their king, so old and mighty, / they knew in death was lying;
Gu-drun and all her maidens / stood in the hall in fear, and loud were crying.

As yet the Norman Hartmut, / knew nothing of the tale,
How that the king, his father, / and kinsmen young as well,
With many bravest warriors, / now in death were sleeping,
Then he heard from the castle / the shrieks and wails of those who there were weeping.

Now the knightly Hartmut / unto his followers said:
“’Tis best we hence withdraw us; / how many here lie dead
Who in stormy fighting / thought our men to be slaying!
Now will we seek the castle, / and there until a better time be staying.”

To him they listened gladly, / and followed where he rode.
Great was the work of slaughter / the field around them showed,
Where with grimmest foemen / they were closely warring;
Freely had blood been flowing / beneath the hand of Hartmut and his followers daring.

“So well,” he said, “have you helped me, / who my kinsmen are,
That all my lands and riches / gladly with you I’ll share.
We now will ride to my castle, / and there to rest betake us;
Men the gates will open, / and wine for us will pour, and mead will make us.”

Fallen knights full many / they left on the field behind:
Were these of the land the owners, / still with no braver mind
They then had met the onset. / Those for the gates now striving,
By Wâ-te and his thousand / were not allowed to reach the castle living.

He with a host of fighters / near the gates was seen,
When Hartmut with his followers / sought to come within;
They in this were baffled, / and their strength were wasting.
Those who the castle guarded / heavy stones from off the wall were casting.

They hurled them down so wildly / on Wâ-te and his men,
Like hailstones they were falling, / with not a stop between.
Wâ-te recked but little / how many were dead or living,
Might he the day be gaining; / to this alone his thoughts he now was giving.

Hartmut saw old Wâ-te / before the castle-gate.
He said: “Tho’ from our foemen / our gains this day are great,
Before it shall be ended, / for this their hate they’ll show us:
Let now the strong be heedful; / dead must many lie on the field below us.

“Fear and care it gives me / that many here are seen
Whom we must now be meeting. / Wâ-te with all his men
I see before the gateway, / there with sword-strokes hewing.
If he of the gate be keeper, / I look for little kindness he’ll be doing.

“See for yourselves, my warriors, / the gateways and the walls
By foes on all sides girded; / knight to knight there calls.
The roadways all are crowded, / whichever way we’re turning:
Gu-drun’s good friends and champions / will spare no toil; to win the day they’re burning.

“That you may know too truly, / as I see already well;
Friends we must lose full many. / Howe’er it so befell,
Before the outer gateway / already see I waving
The Moorland foeman’s banner; / lest they get in, a care must you be having.

“Near to the second gateway / I see yet other foes:
I saw Lord Ortwin’s banner, / as on the breeze it rose.
Gu-drun’s young brother is he; / fair women’s smiles he’s seeking:
Ere he shall cool his anger, / beneath his blows will helmets yet be breaking.

“Now see I, too, brave Herwic, / before the third gate there;
With him seven thousand followers / upon the field are near.
He comes in guise most knightly, / to win his own heart’s lady;
On him are gazing gladly / the fair Gu-drun, and many maids already.

“To hasten back to my castle, / the thought too late has come.
I know not where, with my warriors, / now to seek a home.
I see the stern old Wâ-te / before the fourth gate fighting;
My many friends in the castle, / I fear indeed must long for us be waiting.

“Fly from here I cannot; / no wings for this have I;
Nor in the earth can hide me, / whatever else I try.
Neither from the foeman / to the waves can we be turning:
Now, in our lot so wretched, / what best it is to do from me be learning.

“Good knights of mine, now hearken; / there’s nothing left to do
But, to the ground alighting, / their hot life’s-blood to hew
From out the ringed armor: / fear not the word I’ve given.”
Then, from their saddles leaping, / their horses back at once from them were driven.

“Now on, brave knights and warriors!” / Hartmut called to all;
“To the castle-gates press nearer, / whatever may befall.
I yet must meet old Wâ-te, / whether I live or am dying;
To drive him from the gateway, / and from the walls, I will at least be trying.”

Soon, with swords uplifted, / rushing on were seen
The brave and youthful Hartmut, / and with him all his men.
He fell upon grim Wâ-te, / who met his coming gladly;
Now their sword-blades clattered, / and many knights lay dead, or wounded badly.

When Wâ-te saw young Hartmut / the onslaught on him make,
While Fru-te bore the banner, / in wrath old Wâ-te spake:
“I hear the swords loud ringing / of many pressing near us;
I beg, dear cousin Fru-te, / let none come out from the gates; from that now spare us.”

Then Wâ-te, wild with anger, / did on King Hartmut run;
But he, so brave and daring, / the onset would not shun.
The sun with dust was darkened, / now from the struggle rising:
Their strength was unabated; / still for good name they fought, that both were prizing.

What helped it that of Wâ-te / men said he was as strong
As six and twenty warriors? / Though this was on each tongue,
Yet still to him young Hartmut / his knightly skill was showing:
Howe’er his foe was striving, / the Norman lord and his men no less were doing.

A knight he was most truly, / and well indeed he fought;
Of the dead there lay a mountain / whom on the field he smote.
It was, forsooth, a wonder / that Hartmut had not yielded,
And died before old Wâ-te: / grim was the wrath from which himself he shielded.

Soon heard he, loudly shrieking, / old King Ludwig’s wife;
Sorely she was mourning / the loss of her husband’s life.
She said she would reward him / who felt his death past bearing,
And would Gu-drun be slaying, / with all the maids who there her lot were sharing.

Then ran a worthless fellow, / to whom the fee was dear,
To where the Hegeling maidens / sat together near.
Then the hearts of the women / with many fears he loaded;
For the sake of gold to be given, / to take their lives he now was sharply goaded.

When that Hilda’s daughter / against her saw him bear
A sharp and naked weapon, / she well indeed might fear,
And mourn that, far from kindred, / she was thus forsaken.
Had not young Hartmut seen it, / the knave her head from her would then have taken.

She so forgot her breeding / that now she screamed aloud,
As if in dread of dying; / great fear made wild her mood.
’Twas the same with all her maidens, / there beside her seated,
From out the window gazing; / the ladies such behavior ill befitted.

At once the sound of her wailing / to Hartmut made her known;
And greatly did he wonder / what made her scream and moan.
Soon he saw a ruffian / whose sword was near to falling,
As if he meant to kill her. / Loudly now to him ’gan Hartmut calling:

“Who are you, low-born dastard? / For what reward or need
Do you affright these maidens, / and seek to strike them dead?
If you shall strike one lady, / I give you now this warning,
Your life shall quick be ended; / your kinsmen too shall hang, this very morning.”

Back then sprang the rascal,— / his anger he did fear;
For now the youthful Hartmut / held his life not dear,
When to the homeless maidens / he his help was giving:
With care was he o’erladen, / while from grim death to free them he was striving.

Quickly then came Ortrun, / she of Norman lands,
The fair and youthful princess; / in woe she wrung her hands.
She to Gu-drun came nearer, / the stately, high-born maiden,
And, at her feet down-falling, / bewept her father’s death, with sorrow laden.

She said: “Most queenly lady, / do not your tears forbear,
For all my many kinsmen / who death together share.
Bethink you, if you also / a father slain were weeping,
How you would feel, great princess. / My father slain I mourn, in death now sleeping.

“Behold, most high-born maiden, / my woe and bitter need;
How almost all my kinsmen / lie, with my father, dead:
And now the knightly Hartmut / is death from Wâ-te fearing.
If I should lose my brother, / bereft of kindred, nought could life be cheering.

“Reward the love I’ve shown you,” / said the Norman maid.
“Of all that saw your sorrow, / when none a tear did shed,
I then alone was friendly, / and had you in my keeping;
For all the wrongs they did you, / I the livelong day for you was weeping.”

Queen Hilda’s daughter answered: / “Thou wast indeed my friend;
But yet this strife so deadly / I know not how to end.
Were I indeed a warrior, / and knightly weapons wearing,
I’d stop the fighting gladly; / and none to slay your brother then were daring.”

Ortrun was sorely weeping; / she still the maid besought,
Until within the window / Gu-drun at length she brought,
Who with her hand then beckoned, / and begged that it be told her
If from the land of her fathers / knights had come who did in friendship hold her.

Then the knightly Herwic / answer thus did make:
“Who are you, young maiden, / who news from us do seek?
We are not the Hegelings, / whom you see so near you;
We hither come from the Sealands. / Tell us, maiden, how we now can cheer you?”

“This do I beseech you,” / said the queenly maid:
“Sore has been the fighting; / him will I thank, indeed,
Who now cuts short the struggle. / Me will he be cheering
Who from the hands of Wâ-te / will Hartmut free in the strife that I am fearing.”

Then asked the well-bred warrior / who from the Sealands came:
“Tell me, worthy maiden, / what may be your name?”
She said: “Gu-drun they call me, / of Hagen’s blood I own me;
Altho’ my birth was lofty, / of late but little love has here been shown me.”

He said: “If you, fair lady, / my dear Gu-drun can be,
Then faithfully to help you / gladness will give to me;
For I, in truth, am Herwic; / you for my own I have chosen,
And fain am I to show you / how you from bonds of sorrow I can loosen.”

She said: “If you would help me, / my good and worthy knight,
I trust that you will grant me / that what I ask is right:
To me these lovely maidens / their prayers are ever making,
That from the fight with Wâ-te / some friendly hand will Hartmut soon be taking.”

“That will I do right gladly, / dearest lady mine.”
Then to his men young Herwic / called above the din:
“Now against old Wâ-te / let my flag be carried.”
Herwic then pressed forward, / and none of all his men behind him tarried.

To do the lady’s bidding / hard it was for him;
But Herwic called out loudly / to Wâ-te old and grim,
And said, “My dear friend Wâ-te, / to grant my wish be ready:
Let strife be ended quickly: / this is the prayer of many a lovely lady.”

Then spake in wrath old Wâ-te: / “Sir Herwic, get you gone!
Did I mind the will of a woman, / how should I do my own?
If I thought to spare the foeman, / unasked I’d do it even.
I will not do your bidding: / Hartmut to pay for his sins must now be driven.”

Herwic, for love of his lady, / on both the fighters sprang
Right fearlessly and boldly; / loud the sword-blades rang.
Wâ-te was wild with anger, / and bitter pain it gave him
That, ere the foeman yielded, / Herwic from his hand should dare to save him.

Then he smote King Herwic / a strong and heavy blow,
Ere he could part the fighters, / and quickly laid him low;
Now rushed the men of Herwic, / and did from Wâ-te bear him.
Hartmut was seized and taken, / though Herwic and his knights had sought to spare him.