Nineteenth Adventure: How the Treasure of the Nibelungers was Brought to Worms

While thus the mourning Kriemhild remain'd in widow'd state,
Count Eckewart upon her did ever constant wait
With all his men about him; he serv'd her without fail,
And help'd his weeping lady his murdered lord to wail.

At Worms fast by the minster was fram'd for her to dwell
A building high and spacious, and thereto furnish'd well,
Where sat she joyless ever among her joyless train.
To church she oft betook her, and there would linger fain.

How oft, weigh'd with sorrow (she seldom miss'd a day),
Thither would she go faintly where her beloved lay,
And God for grace and mercy upon his soul implore,
And with true love unfailing beweep him evermore!

Queen Uta and her ladies to sooth the mourner sought,
But still take could she never the comfort that they brought;
The sting of deadly sorrow had pierc'd her heart too deep;
Nor love had she, nor longing, but for her lord to weep.

Such grief as Kriemhild's never wife for her husband knew;
Thence might be seen how faithful her heart was, and how true.
E'en to her day of dying her life in woe she pass'd.
She took for her slain Siegfried a dread revenge at last.

So after her bereavement she sat, for three long years
And half another, ever in sorrow and in tears,
Nor once spoke word to Gunther, albeit in blood so nigh,
Nor on her foeman Hagan ever once set eye.

Then said the Knight of Trony, "Your best attention bend,
How you may hereafter your sister make your friend.
So might the wondrous treasure come to this land, I ween.
'Twould much be to your profit, could we appease the queen."

"We'll try," replied King Gunther, "my brothers with her bide
Perhaps by their persuasion she may be pacified,
And e'en in our possession the hoard contented see."
"I can't believe," said Hagan, "that that can ever be."

Then to the Margrave Gary in haste King Gunther sent;
Ortwine to court was summon'd to further their intent,
And Gernot and young Giselher were both together brought.
The boon from Lady Kriemhild with friendly prayer they sought.

Then first the good Burgundian the valiant Gernot spake.
"Lady, too long you're wailing for your lost husband's sake.
Sure proof the king will give you, he ne'er the warrior slew;
Why then with such deep passion his death forever rue?"

Said she, "Who charges Gunther? 'twas Hagan struck the blow.
He gain'd from me the secret, where steel could lay him low.
Could I suspect, that treason lurk'd such fair words among?
Else, be sure, had silence sat ever on my tongue.

"Ah! had I ne'er betrayed him, but still his secret kept,
I had not now, poor widow! thus lamentably wept.
But ne'er will I forgive them, who this foul deed have done."
Then the stout knight, young Giselher, to intercede begun.

"Ay," said she, "I must greet him, you press and urge me so;
The more your fault and folly; such bitterness of woe
Hath the king brought upon me with no guilt on my part;
My mouth it may forgive him, but never will my heart."

"Matters may mend hereafter," her kin said with one voice,
"What if his future kindness should make her yet rejoice?"
"Needs must he," said good Gernot, "make up for former ill."
"See!" said the sorrow-laden, "I'll do what'er you will.

"Yes! I will greet King Gunther." She scarce had given consent
When with his best friends Gunther unto his sister went.
Yet durst not stern Hagan before the mourner go.
He knew himself blood-guilty, he had wrought her mortal woe.

When she had pardon'd Gunther all that had pass'd amiss,
He thought it fitting kindness the gentle dame to kiss.
Had he the deed not counselled which all that ill had wrought,
With freedom oft and boldness her presence he had sought.

Sure ne'er was reconcilement 'twixt friends too long apart
By such full tears cemented; her loss she took to heart,
Yet all concern'd she pardon'd, all, save only one.
Never had been the murder, if not by Hagan done.

'Twas no long time thereafter when this device they wrought,
That from the land of Nibelung should to the Rhine be brought
By the command of Kriemhild the wondrous treasure bright;
'Twas her morning-gift at marriage and so was hers by right.

For it the youthful Giselher and eke good Gernot went;
Eighty hundred warriors with them their sister sent,
To bring it from the mountain, where close conceal'd it lay,
Watch'd by the stout dwarf Albric and his best friends alway.

When now came the Burgundians the precious hoard to take,
Albric, the faithful keeper, thus his friends bespake:
"This far renowned treasure we can't withhold, I ween,
The marriage-morning present claim'd by the noble queen.

"Yet should they have it never, nor should we thus be cross'd,
Had we not the good cloud-cloak to our misfortune lost
Together with Sir Siegfried, who gain'd it here of yore;
For Kriemhild's noble husband the same at all times wore.

"Now ill, alas! has happ'd it to Siegfried the good knight,
That from us the cloud-cloak he took by conquering might,
And all this land to serve him as lord and master bound."
Then went the chamberlain sadly, where soon the keys he found.

And now the men of Kriemhild before the mountain stood,
And some, too, of her kinsmen; the hoard, as best they could,
Down to the sea they carried; there in good barks 'twas laid,
Thence o'er the waves, and lastly up the Rhine convey'd.

The tale of that same treasure might well your wonder raise;
'Twas much as twelve huge wagons in four whole nights and days
Could carry from the mountain down to the salt-sea bay,
If to and fro each wagon thrice journey'd every day.

It was made up of nothing but precious stones and gold;
Were all the world bought from it, and down the value told,
Not a mark the less thereafter were left, than erst was scor'd.
Good reason sure had Hagan to covet such a hoard.

And there among was lying the wishing-rod of gold,
Which whoso could discover, might in subjection hold
All this wide world as master, with all that dwell therein.
There came to Worms with Gernot full many of Albric's kin.

When Gernot and young Giselher had thus possession gain'd
Of that power-giving treasure, the rule they straight obtain'd
Of the country and the castles and many a warlike knight;
All was constrained to serve them through terror of their might.

When they had brought the treasure thence to King Gunther's land,
And had their charge delivered into fair Kriemhild's hand,
Cramm'd were the towers and chambers wherein the same they stor'd.
Ne'er told was tale of riches to match this boundless hoard.

Yet had she found the treasure a thousand-fold as great,
Could she have seen but Siegfried restored to life's estate,
Bare as her hand had Kriemhild preferr'd with him to live,
Renouncing all the puissance which all that hoard could give.

Now she had gain'd possession, so liberal was the dame,
That foreign knights unnumber'd into the country came.
All prais'd her generous virtues, and own'd they ne'er had seen
Lady so open-handed as this fair widow'd queen.

To rich and poor together began she now to give;
Thereat observed Sir Hagan, "If she should chance to live
Some little season longer, so many should we see
Won over to her service, that ill for us 'twould be."

Thereto made answer Gunther, "The hoard is hers alone;
How can I check her giving? She gives but from her own.
Scarce could I gain forgiveness for my offence of old.
I care not how she scatters her jewels and ruddy gold."

"A prudent man," said Hagan, "not for a single hour
Would such a mass of treasure leave in a woman's power.
She'll hatch with all this largess to her outlandish crew
Something that hereafter all Burgundy may rue."

Thereto replied King Gunther, "An oath to her I swore,
That I would ne'er offend her nor harm her any more;
And I'm resolv'd to keep it; my sister too is she."
At once Sir Hagan answer'd, "Then lay the blame on me."

Too many of the chieftains their plighted faith forsook;
The powerful hoard the perjur'd from the poor widow took;
Sir Hagan straight made seizure at once of every key.
When her brother Gernot heard it, bitterly wroth was he.

Then spake the young Sir Giselher, "Hagan the fierce and rude
Hath foully wrong'd my sister; this I should have withstood;
But that he is my kinsman, it should cost his life."
Then afresh all vainly wept noble Siegfried's wife.

Then said the good Sir Gernot, "Ere this pernicious mine
Confound us any further, better beneath the Rhine
Sink it altogether, and tell no mortal where."
Then sadly went fair Kriemhild to her brother Giselher.

She wept and said, "Dear brother, pray take some thought of me;
Of my person and possessions thou should'st the guardian be."
Then spake he to his sister, "I will, whate'er betide,
Soon as we come back hither, for now we hence must ride."

King Gunther and his kinsmen they forthwith left the land.
The very best among them he took to form his band.
There stay'd behind but Hagan; fierce hate and malice still
He bore the weeping Kriemhild, and sought to work her ill.

Ere back the king came thither, impatient of delay
Hagan seiz'd the treasure, and bore it thence away.
Into the Rhine at Lochheim the whole at once threw he!
Henceforth he thought t' enjoy it, but that was ne'er to be.

He never more could get it for all his vain desire;
So fortune of the traitor cheats of his treason's hire.
Alone he hop'd to use it as long as he should live,
But neither himself could profit, nor to another give.

Once more return'd the princess, and with them all their train.
Forthwith began sad Kriemhild her heavy loss to plain
With ladies and with maidens; their grief indeed was strong.
In all good faith was Giselher ready to venge her wrong.

Then said they altogether, "Much evil hath he done."
So for a time Sir Hagan retir'd their wrath to shun,
Till he regain'd their favor; at last they look'd it o'er.
Thereat to him fair Kriemhild yet deadlier hatred bore.

Ere thus the Knight of Trony had hidd'n the wondrous hoard,
They all an oath together had sworn with one accord
To keep it in concealment while one of them should live,
So none himself could take it, nor to another give.

With this new weight of anguish surcharg'd was Kriemhild left,
Of her bold husband widow'd, and of the hoard bereft
By such o'erweening outrage; in tears the mourner lay,
Nor ever ceas'd to sorrow e'en till her dying day.

From the death of Siegfried for thirteen years she dwelt
On her wrongs ever brooding, nor joy one moment felt.
The murder of her husband she could not once forget.
To him she still was faithful; that praise is Kriemhild's yet.

The wealthy Lady Uta, when death took Dankrat hence,
A sumptuous monastery rais'd at her own expense,
Endowed with rich revenues, which yet its coffers fill;
The abbey of Lorsch they call it; 'tis high in honor still.

Thereto the mourning Kriemhild no little part supplied
Both for the soul of Siegfried and for all souls beside.
She gave both gold and jewels; a wife more chaste and true,
And a more liberal giver man surely never knew.

Since Kriemhild had King Gunther once to her grace restor'd,
And yet by his connivance next lost the precious hoard,
A thousand-fold more sorrow at her heart there lay.
The proud and high-born lady would gladly thence away.

Meanwhile for Lady Uta was built with skill and care
At Lorsch, fast by her abbey, a sumptuous palace fair.
The widow left her children, and there seclusion found.
Still lies she in her coffin deep in that hollow'd ground.

Then said the queen to Kriemhild, "List to me, daughter dear,
Come to Lorsch, to my palace, thou canst not linger here;
And dwell with me thy mother, and cease to weep and grieve."
"To whom then," answer'd Kriemhild, "Shall I my husband leave?"

The Lady Uta answer'd, "Here let him still abide."
"Now God in heaven forbid it!" the faithful wife replied;
"No! my beloved mother, I must not have it so;
If Kriemhild hence must journey, with her must Siegfried go."

Then gave command the mourner up to take the dead;
His noble bones were forthwith transferred to their last bed
At Lorsch beside the minster in many-honor'd guise.
There yet in a long coffin the stately warrior lies.

Just then, when sorrowing Kriemhild was ready to depart,
And hop'd with her fond mother to ease her aching heart,
She yet was forc'd to tarry and that last hope resign.
'Twas caus'd by sudden tidings, that cross'd from far the Rhine.