Tale VIII: How Hagen Followed His Daughter

When the day was dawning, / there was seen full well,
And known by Horant of Daneland, / a cross upon a sail,
With other emblems blazoned, / that pilgrims did betoken.
For such a band of pilgrims / in Wâ-te’s heart was little love bespoken.

Loudly Morunc shouted / to Irold brave and true:
“Now ask our lord, King Hettel, / what he thinks to do?
A sail with the arms of Hagen / comes to our shore too nearly:
Too long have we been sleeping, / and well to be rid of this will cost us dearly.”

To Hettel the tale was carried / that the father of his bride,
Hither from Ireland sailing, / with ships broad-built and wide
As well as many a galley, / now their shore was nearing.
From Wâ-te and from Fru-te / their wisest thoughts the king was bent on hearing.

Both those knights of Denmark / could hardly this believe,
Had not their eyes beheld it, / that Hagen, with followers brave,
Seeking his daughter Hilda, / to the river Waal was steering.
The men who came from Ortland / lay happy on the beach, no danger fearing.

The fair and noble Hilda / soon heard the wondrous tale,
Whereat the kindly maiden / did loudly thus bewail:
“My father, if he comes hither, / soon will make such slaughter,
That none e’er knew the sorrow / that will be felt by many a wife and daughter.”

“We ’gainst that can guard us,” / answered the knight Irold:
“However he may bluster, / I would not take of gold
A mountain’s weight in barter, / that day when foes are mated,
Could I see my uncle Wâ-te / near wild Hagen come, with anger heated.”

Then the lovely maidens / began to wail and mourn.
The ship was tossed and rolling, / now by the west wind borne,
With warriors filled and crowded, / near to Waal, the river.
They there, in heavy fighting, / soon found a blood-stained resting-place forever.

Wâ-te bade that Hilda / on board a ship should stay.
To guard the queenly maiden, / while near the shore it lay,
On every side all hastily / men their shields were bearing:
To keep a watch o’er the ladies, / there were on board a hundred warriors daring.

Ready now for battle / were all who to the strand
Had brought the lovely Hilda / from her Irish fatherland,
Whence they the maid had stolen, / to her father Hagen’s sorrow.
Many, sound and healthy, / must sorely fear for their lives before the morrow.

Hettel was soon heard shouting / and calling aloud to his men:
“Be on your guard, brave fighters! / Who never gold did gain,
To him it shall be measured, / in handfuls, without weighing.
Let this be not forgotten,— / that now your Irish foes you may be slaying.”

Bearing then their weapons, / down they rushed to the sand;
Stirred with warlike bustle / was all the Waalisch strand.
Thither to King Hettel / flocked his champions daring;
Friends as well as foemen / soon towards the self-same spot were faring.

Now had Hagen also / reached the sandy shore,
And men at him were hurling / the spears they bravely bore:
Those upon the seashore / well their lives then guarded
From the stormy Irish onset; / but wounds yet all the more their bravery rewarded.

How seldom would a father / have wished to send his child
Where sparks of fire, all-glowing, / were struck by foemen wild
Forth from hardened helmets, / in sight of many a maiden!
To have sailed with these roving fighters / did now at last the lovely Hilda sadden.

By turns they smote each other / with heavy spears and long:
Altho’ themselves they guarded / beneath their bucklers strong,
Yet wounded thro’ their hauberks, / they were gashed and bloody;
And soon with flowing life-blood / the waters’ depths were deeply stained and ruddy.

Then to his trusty liegemen / Hagen called aloud:
The sea gave back his shouting,— / truly his strength was good,—
He bade them help to land him, / their wounds by them unheeded;
Glad were they to do it: / thereby were spears in many hearts imbedded.

Hagen now drew nearer, / not far was he from the sand;
His sword it clattered loudly; / Hettel, near at hand,
Was standing by the water, / on the seashore waiting:
There, with daring followers, / deeds he did that praise should aye be meeting.

Hagen, wild with anger, / leaped into the wave,
And to the shore he waded. / Then on that warrior brave
Came a shower of lances; / like snowflakes falling thickly,
Fast they fell around him, / shot by the Hegeling foemen, thronging quickly.

Then from the clash of sword-blades / a mighty noise arose.
Those who would slay wild Hagen / soon beneath his blows
Were seen to reel and stagger. / Hettel, the noble fighter,
Drew near to Hilda’s father; / at this the maiden wept, with tears most bitter.

It was indeed a wonder, / as we the tale have heard,
So strong and brave was Hagen, / that Hettel, the Hegeling lord,
Before him held his footing. / As soon as, wildly fighting,
They had reached each other, / their helmets rang beneath the heavy smiting.

But not so quickly ended / was yet the stormy fight.
Soon was Hettel wounded / by brave King Hagen’s might:
Wâ-te the old of Sturmland, / with his kin, to Hettel hasted,
With Irold, too, and Morunc,— / knights as good as foemen’s lands e’er wasted.

Now came the brave old Fru-te / and Wâ-te with his throng:
Knights there were a thousand,— / the press of them was strong.
Hettel’s Hegeling kinsmen, / well their weapons plying,
Wounded many foemen; / on every side stretched low, the men were lying.

After bravest fighting, / now had reached the land
The followers of Hagen; / then crowded to the sand,
After his friends so faithful, / a host from Ireland’s borders.
Soon were helmets shattered: / grimly they fought to win the maids from their warders.

Hagen saw then near him / Hettel, the youthful knight:
Many strong and stalwart / were shorn of strength outright,
Both by those from Daneland / and the Hegeling lieges:
Now to meet wild Hagen / every one old Wâ-te loud beseeches.

Then, by his strength, King Hagen / broke thro’ the crowd a path,
And with his sword hewed boldly; / well he wreaked his wrath,
Because his much-loved daughter / from him by craft was taken;
Coats of mail lay fallen: / the wrongs of Hagen hate in him did waken.

He might not quench his anger / with the sword alone;
By the thrust of his heavy long-spear / soon were overthrown
Many a knight most daring: / never the tale was given
By these unto their kinsmen, / of how in the stormy fight their luck had thriven.

Now came Wâ-te quickly, / the knight well born and good;
Soon of his well-loved kinsmen / he saw the flowing blood,
Under the slash of broadswords, / out of their armor dripping:
Of those who would have helped him, / five hundred wounded men in death were sleeping.

Everywhere were gathered / friends as well as foes,
All in uproar minged; / a mighty din arose.
Wâ-te and wild Hagen / rushed on each other madly,
Whoe’er could shun their pathway / of all the risk he had fled was thinking gladly.

Hagen laid on Wâ-te / many a heavy blow,—
Well his strength he wielded. / Their helmets were aglow
With fiery sparks outflashing,— / like to brands they glittered;
Each cleft the other’s helmet, / and ever still, each other’s blows they bettered.

The ground beneath was trembling / with aged Wâ-te’s stroke:
Scarcely could the maidens / of his onslaught shun the shock.
Now the wounds of Hettel / his faithful friends were binding;
He then began to ask them / where his cousin Wâ-te he could be finding.

With Hagen, “of kings the Devil,” / he found old Wâ-te soon:
The skill of him of Sturmland / to guard himself was shown:
Brave were both these warriors, / and oft the tale was spoken
How Wâ-te the bold and Hagen / in hardest strife had each his anger wroken.

Hagen’s spear was broken / erelong on Wâ-te’s shield:
Well in the fight he bore it, / and strength enough did wield.
Ne’er on the field of warfare / did blows of men fall thicker,
Even of bravest warriors; / Wâ-te scorned to flinch, or seem the worker.

Hagen cleft the head-piece / of Hettel’s brave old man,
The trusty, daring Wâ-te, / till blood from his helmet ran,
From out his wounds fast flowing. / Now the wind blew colder,
For eventide was nearing; / the struggling throng in fight but grew the bolder.

Wâ-te gave back in anger / each grim and deadly blow,
Making the blood, like tear-drops, / on Hagen’s breast to flow;
Strokes he gave his foeman, / until the sword-blade glittered
On the bosses of his helmet; / daylight before his darkened eyesight flittered.

Wounded, too, was Irold, / Ortland’s champion brave.
Though many there lay dying / from the wounds that Hagen gave,
Yet the blows of Wâ-te / still did Hagen batter.
Sorely wept the maidens / when of so many swords they heard the clatter.

Now, in fear and sorrow, / Hilda, the maiden fair,
Cried unto King Hettel, / and begged of him to spare
Her father from old Wâ-te, / the fight so grimly waging.
He called for his standard-bearer, / and bade him lead his men where the strife was raging.

Then the kingly Hettel / right well and bravely fought;
Soon he found old Wâ-te, / to whom no joy it brought:
Then Hettel called to Hagen: / “Let hatred hence be driven;
So shall it raise your honor, / if now our friends no more to death be given.”

Hagen shouted loudly,— / fell indeed was his mood,—
“Who bids that we be parted?” / Then cried the warrior good:
“I bid it, I, King Hettel, / the Hegelings’ lord and master,
Who for the Lady Hilda / sent my friends so far, from you to wrest her.”

Then spake the lordly Hagen: / “Since first to me ’twas told
How you to win my daughter / showed yourself so bold,
This to your name with warriors / shame has ne’er been doing;
Clever was the cunning / to which your winning of my child is owing.”

Hettel then sprang nearer, / as oft by one is done,
Who thinks to stop the fighting. / Grim was the mood yet shown
By the bold and aged Wâ-te; / but he and Hagen yielded:
Then with all his followers / Hagen stepped back, nor longer his weapon wielded.

Now the lordly Hettel / his helmet laid aside;
A truce was loudly called for / by all, both far and wide;
’Twas said by Hilda’s father / there was an end of fighting:
For many a day, the maidens / had heard no tale their ears so much delighting.

The men took off the armor / which they in fight had worn,
And now at last they rested. / Many then must mourn
For wounds, in warfare given, / whence the blood was welling;
But many lay there also / who never more on thoughts of war were dwelling.

Then stepped forth King Hettel / and near to Hagen stood,
And thus he spake to the warrior: / “Since I well have wooed
Your lovely daughter Hilda, / ’tis fit that you allow her
To wear the crown beside me: / my many well-bred knights will fealty show her.”

Then Hettel sent for Wâ-te, / of whom he was in need;
For many years now ended, / of him it had been said
That he from some wild woman / had learned a leech’s cunning:
Wâ-te, forsooth, was skilful / to heal deep wounds and stanch the life-blood running.

Wâ-te laid by his weapons; / his wounds he first had bound.
Herbs that were good for healing / by him were quickly found;
He had a box full costly, / that in it held a plaster.
Now the fair Queen Hilda / besought his help, and at his feet she cast her.

She said, “My dear friend Wâ-te, / my father heal, I pray;
For this, whate’er you ask me, / I ne’er will say you nay;
And help his warriors also, / who in the dust lie bleeding,
And show your skill to his liegemen / who stood by him, when he their help was needing.

“Nor must you be forgetful / of those of the Hegeling land,
Who were friends to Hettel; / wet with their blood is the sand
On which they now are lying, / as if a rain were falling:
Sorrowful tales of their fighting / for me there ne’er can be an end of telling.”

Then spake the aged Wâ-te: / “Their wounds I cannot heal,—
In that I will not meddle, / until as friends they feel
Each unto the other,— / Hagen brave and knightly,
And Hettel, my lord and master; / till then shall I withhold my skill most rightly.”

The high-born maiden answered: / “This I may not dare
To ask of the king, my father; / his tears I did not spare,
And now have not the boldness / to bring to him my greeting;
Both he and all his kinsmen / I fear would now my love with scorn be meeting.”

Then ’twas asked of Hagen: / “My lord, may this now be,
That it would not stir your anger / your daughter here to see,
The youthful, queenly Hilda? / If you for this are willing,
She will come most gladly, / and soon your many wounds will help in healing.”

“Gladly will I see her, / whatever she has done;
To me will she be welcome: / why should I her disown,
Here in a land of foemen, / nor take her greeting kindly?
To me and to my daughter, / King Hettel must atone for deeds unfriendly.”

Horant, the knight from Daneland, / led her by the hand,
And with him went brave Fru-te, / to where the king did stand;
One maiden only with them / looked on Hagen wounded.
For friends did Hilda sorrow, / though Hettel’s love for her was all unbounded.

On Hildeburg and Hilda / when Hagen now did look,
Then, from his seat upspringing, / thus he quickly spoke:
“Welcome be thou, my daughter, / Hilda, most noble lady!
I cannot leave unspoken / the greeting warm which I to give am ready.”

His daughter he allowed not / the care of his wounds to take;
While Wâ-te these was binding / he bade the maids step back,—
The youthful high-born ladies. / Wâ-te’s wish was the stronger
To heal her father quickly, / that so his daughter there might weep no longer.

Healed with plants and herbage / and many a far-sought weed,
From all his pain did Hagen / feel himself now freed;
They eased his hurts with plaster, / and when again the maiden
Turned to see her father, / she found him well, with aches no longer laden.

Wâ-te, the healing-master, / made haste,—no time he lost;
He hoped to gain such riches / among this wounded host,
That scarce could they by camels / be carried to his dwelling.
A skill so great and wondrous / never, that I have heard, have men been telling.

First he healed King Hettel, / the lord of the Hegeling land;
Then all he saw there wounded / he helped by his skilful hand.
Those in the care of others / still with pain did sicken;
But they, when nursed by Wâ-te, / were turned to life, tho’ they by death were stricken.

There would they no longer / let the maidens stay.
Hagen said to Hilda: / “Elsewhere must we to-day
Find us rest and shelter; / while others must not idly
Leave the dead thus lying, / who burial scarce can wait, here scattered widely.”

Hettel begged King Hagen / with him to his home to go;
Though loath, to this he yielded, / as soon as he came to know
That he, the king of the Hegelings, / of many lands was owner:
Hagen then with his daughter / went with him to his home, and there had honor.

The youthful knights were singing, / as they left the field.
Happy then were the living; / but, never to be healed,
They behind were leaving / three hundred dead and dying,
The rich and poor together, / slashed with the sword, and pitifully lying.

Then the war-worn fighters / through the land went home;
All who there were dwelling / were blithe to see them come:
But the kinsmen of the warriors / who in death lay sleeping
Were slow their hearts to gladden; / they for kindred slain long time were weeping.

Hettel and Hilda with him / took their homeward way.
Many, bereft of fathers, / sorely wept that day,
Whose after life was happy. / The mighty Hettel later
Crowned the fair young Hilda; / by this the Hegeling name became the greater.

Hettel now had thriven,— / his suit he well did gain.
Old and young together / with swords at court were seen,
As were the guests of Hagen who from the ships came kindly.
The wedding of his daughter / was highly praised by Hagen, now grown friendly.

Then with what great honor / to the bridal seat was led
That high-born, lovely lady! / Moreover, it is said
That full five hundred liegemen / then at court were knighted.
Fru-te the wise from Denmark / to guard King Hettel’s wealth was thought well fitted.

The riches of King Hettel / by Hagen now were seen;
The tale had erst been told him / by many of Hettel’s kin,
That over seven princedoms / well his sway had thriven.
All the poor there with them / were home in gladness sent, and lodgings given.

Hettel gave rich clothing / to Ireland’s warriors brave;
Bright-red gold and silver, / and horses, too, he gave.
The whole they scarce could carry, / as they homeward wended:
Thus good friends he won him, / and this for Hilda in highest praises ended.

Upon the twelfth day’s morning / they left King Hettel’s land.
The horses bred in Denmark / led they out on the sand;
Each his mane, thick hanging, / down to his hoofs was shaking.
The guests from afar were happy / that they King Hettel’s friendship had been making.

Grooms and also stewards / with Hagen then did ride,
With cup-bearers and carvers. / Ne’er, in his greatest pride,
In his home and kingdom, / had he been served so truly.
The crown was worn by Hilda, / and Hagen’s heart with bliss was brimming fully.

Food as well as lodgings / they found upon their road;
On Hagen and his followers / all men their care bestowed:
So to their homes most gladly / they the tale did carry
Of how the friends of Hettel / in showing them all kindness ne’er were weary.

Hagen greeted Hildeburg, / and clasped her in his arms;
He said, “Watch over Hilda / for the love your bosom warms.
So great a throng of followers / at times a woman dazes;
Care for her so kindly / that of your worth all men shall speak with praises.”

“My lord, that will I gladly: / to you has much been told
Of the woes that with her mother / I bore in days of old;
And I for years my friendship / for her did never loosen;
Her for miles I followed / ere for a lover you by her were chosen.”

Hagen bade the others / their way to court to take;
Never then could the maidens / an end of weeping make:
Now by the hand he took them, / and to Hettel they were given;
He asked for them his kindness, / since from their homes they sadly had been riven.

Then said he to his daughter: / “So well the crown now wear,
That neither I nor your mother / the tale shall ever hear
That men ill-will do bear you. / High your lot has raised you,
And you of blame were worthy, / if when men spoke your name they never praised you.”

Low bowed to the king wild Hagen, / and kissed his child again.
Neither by him nor his followers / ever more was seen
The kingdom of the Hegeling: / too far away was their dwelling.
Back to his home in Ballian, / in his trusty ships, King Hagen soon was sailing.

When he had reached his castle, / and sat with the queen alone,
The mother of fair Hilda, / Hagen was free to own
That none to win his daughter / more fitly could have pleaded;
And if he had yet others, / he fain to the Hegeling land would send them to be wedded.

Hilda for this gave praises / to her master, Christ the Lord:
“That I of my dear daughter / such happy news have heard
Fills my heart with gladness, / and with bliss o’erflowing.
How fares it with her followers, / and Hildeburg, who long her love was showing?”

Then spake the kingly Hagen: / “Now in their land and home
All of them are happy; / great hath our child become;
Ne’er, with us, were her maidens / clothed in such fine dresses.
There we now must leave them: / for her were many breastplates hacked to pieces.”