Thirty-Third Adventure: How the Burgundians Fought with the Huns

Soon as the fearless warrior beneath the lintel hied,
He bade the men of Etzel keep distance yet more wide.
The blood from that fierce combat down all his armor pour'd,
And in his hand uplifted he held his naked sword.

Just at the very moment that in burst Dankwart so,
It chanc'd the young Prince Ortlieb was carried to and fro
From table unto table; the news of that fell strife,
So sudden brought among them, cost the fair child his life.

To a good knight then Dankwart shouted loud and strong,
"Be stirring, brother Hagan, you're sitting all too long.
To you and God in heaven our deadly strait I plain;
Yeomen and knights together lie in their quarters slain."

"Tell me who has done it?" Hagan fiercely cried.
"Sir Blœdel and his meiny," Dankwart straight replied,
"And paid too has he dearly; he's dead among the dead;
This hand from off his shoulders smote at a stroke his head."

"Small is the loss," said Hagan, "whenever one can tell
That a vanquish'd hero by hands heroic fell.
Thus it still befitteth a knight to yield his breath;
So much the less fair ladies should sorrow for his death.

"Now tell me, brother Dankwart, why are you so red?
Your wounds, methinks, oppress you; they must have sorely bled.
If he's yet in this country who has harm'd you thus in strife,
But the foul fiend aid him, it shall cost his life."

"You see me whole and hearty; my weed with blood is wet,
But 'tis from wounds of others whom sword to sword I met,
Of whom I slew so many, though furious all and fell,
That, if I had to swear it, th' amount I ne'er could tell."

Said th' other, "Brother Dankwart, keep guard upon the door;
Let not one Hungarian step the threshold o'er.
Straight, as need impels us, converse with them will I.
Our friends by their devices were guiltless done to die."

"Since I'm to be door-keeper," replied the champion true
"(And well to such great monarchs such service I can do),
As fits me, 'gainst all comers the staircase I'll maintain."
Naught could be more distasteful to Kriemhild's knightly train.

"In sooth," resum'd Sir Hagan, "I can't but wonder here,
What now these Huns are whisp'ring each in his fellow's ear.
I ween, they well could spare him, who keeps the door so bold,
Him, who to us Burgundians his courtly tale has told.

"Long have I heard and often of moody Kriemhild tell,
That still her heart's deep sorrow she harbors fierce and fell;
Now then let's drink to friendship! king's wine shall quench our thirst,
And the young Prince of Hungary himself shall pledge us first."

With that the good Knight Hagan smote Ortlieb the young child;
The gushing blood, down flowing, both sword and hand defil'd;
Into the lap of Kriemhild bounded the ghastly head.
At once among the warriors a fearful butchery spread.

Then with both hands uplifted he dealt a stroke at large
'Gainst the grave-visag'd tutor, who had the child in charge;
His sever'd head down falling, before the table lay.
For all his learned lessons t' faith 'twas sorry pay.

Just then at Etzel's table a minstrel met his view;
Upon him in an instant in wrath Sir Hagan flew.
His right hand on his viol off lopp'd he suddenly;
"Take that for the kind message thou brought'st to Burgundy."

"Alas! my hands!" cried Werbel frantic with pain and woe,
"What have I done, Sir Hagan, that you should serve me so?
I came in faith and honor into your master's land.
How can I now make music since I have lost my hand?"

Little reck'd Sir Hagan if ne'er he fiddled more;
Then round his death-strokes dealing he stretch'd upon the floor
Many a good knight of Etzel's, and wide the slaughter spread,
Turning to bale the banquet, and heap'd the hall with dead.

Up the ready Folker leapt from table quick;
In his hand loud clatter'd his deadly fiddlestick.
Harsh crashing notes discordant King Gunther's minstrel play'd.
Ah! what a host of foemen among the Huns he made!

Up, too, leapt from table the royal brethren three;
They thought to part the battle ere mischief more should be.
But lost was all their labor, vain was all help of man;
When Folker and stern Hagan once so to rage began.

When saw the Lord of Rhineland no power could stint the strife,
He too dealt dole about him with wounds that let out life,
Through the shining hauberks cutting deadly way.
A prowest knight was Gunther, as clear he show'd that day.

At once into the battle the sturdy Gernot flew;
Thick as they flock'd around him the clustering Huns he slew
With his sword, the gift of Rudeger, the which he wielded so,
That many a knight of Etzel's he laid for ever low.

The third too of the brethren rush'd into the fray;
Through th' helms of Etzel's warriors his swords made bloody way;
Death follow'd every buffet; right wondrous deeds were done
That hour by youthful Giselher, Dame Uta's youngest son.

Well fought that day the brethren, well too their men of might,
But ever valiant Folker stood foremost in the fight,
Against his foes so knightly himself the warrior bore.
Many brought he among them to wallow in their gore.

On their defence, too, stoutly stood Etzel's champions all.
Then might you see the strangers through the kingly hall
With their glittering broadswords slashing and hewing go.
Loud thrill'd throughout the palace wild screams of wail and woe.

Then those without in hurried to aid their friends within,
But found upon the staircase more was to lose than win;
Out fain would rush the others, and through the doorway fare.
To none gave Dankwart passage, nor up nor down the stair.

To force the guarded portal throng'd the Huns amain.
With the clattering sword-strokes the morions rang again.
Then stood the valiant Dankwart in deadly peril there;
Of that his loving brother took heed with timely care.

Straight to dauntless Folker, Hagan shouted loud,
"See you there my brother beset by yonder crowd,
Batter'd by blades unnumber'd, by countless bucklers cross'd?
Up, and save him, comrade! or the good knight is lost."

"Fear not," replied the minstrel, "I'll do your bidding soon."
Straight strode he through the palace playing his harshest tune.
Oft clash'd the keen-edg'd broadsword that in his hand he bore.
The noble chiefs of Rhineland thank'd him o'er and o'er.

Then to the fearless Dankwart the minstrel-knight 'gan say,
"You must have surely suffered sore press and toil to-day.
Sent hither by your brother to aid you I have been.
If you'll without be warder, I'll keep the door within."

Firm the nimble Dankwart stood outside the door;
All who the stairs were mounting down drove he evermore;
In the grasp of the warriors their swords clash'd fearfully.
The like within did stoutly Folker of Burgundy.

Loud the valiant minstrel shouted o'er the throng,
"The hall is shut, friend Hagan! the locks are firm and strong.
The hands of two stout warriors King Etzel's door secure;
A thousand bolts, believe me, would not be half so sure."

When Hagan saw the portal secur'd against attack,
By the thong his buckler the fiery chief threw back,
And whirl'd his sword for vengeance with huge two-handed sway;
No hope had then his foemen with life to come away.

When good Sir Dietrich noted how with each swashing stroke
The furious Lord of Trony a Hunnish morion broke,
On to a bench straight leapt he, to see the knights of Rhine.
Said he, "Sure Hagan's serving the very worst of wine."

The host was sore bewilder'd with horror and surprise;
What crowds of friends and subjects were slain before his eyes!
Scarce 'midst the bloody turmoil himself from danger free,
He sat in mortal anguish; what boot was his a king to be?

Proud Kriemhild cried to Dietrich in ghastly drear affright,
"Help me with thy valor, good and noble knight
By the worth of all the princes of th' Amelungers' land.
If Hagan only reach me, Death have I close at hand."

"Fair queen," replied Sir Dietrich, "how can I help you here?
Or how protect another when for myself I fear?
So wroth are these Burgundians, so high their passions run,
That I in such a moment can promise peace to none."

"Nay, say not so, Sir Dietrich, renown'd and noble knight!
Show forth this day amongst us thy high heroic might
To bring me hence in safety; else, I shall surely die.
Dole and dismay beset me; in mortal strait am I."

"At least I'll make the trial, if boot you yet I can,
For ne'er before beheld I many a mighty man,
To sudden wrath enkindl'd, so fierce to battle rush.
Blood see I through the helmets at every sword-stroke gush."

So the fair queen's entreaty he would no longer scorn;
Up his voice he lifted like a blast on a buffalo's horn,
That all the echoing castle rung through its breadth and length;
So loud the voice of Dietrich, so wondrous was his strength!

Soon as heard King Gunther the voice of such a man
Peal o'er the clash and tumult, to listen he began.
Said he, "The voice of Dietrich sounds in my ears amain;
I fear our eager champions some friend of his have slain.

"I see him on the table beckoning with his hand.--
Loving friends and kinsmen of Burgundy's fair land,
Hold a little season! let us hear and see
What we have done to Dietrich, or what his wish may be."

Soon as thus King Gunther begg'd and commanded too,
In th' heat of that dire struggle back their swords they drew;
Yet more his power effected, that still they stood and stern;
Then thus the King of Rhineland bespake the Lord of Bern.

Said he, "Right noble Dietrich, has any of my friends
Done you here an injury? I'll make you full amends.
Be sure, the satisfaction shall with the fault along.
In sooth, 'twould inly grieve me, were you to suffer wrong."

Him answer'd good Sir Dietrich, "No cause have I to grieve.
Let me with your safe-conduct this hall of Etzel's leave,
And quit this bloody banquet with those who follow me,
And for this grave for ever I'll at your service be."

"Why beg instead of bidding?" fierce Wolfhart interpos'd,
"The door, methinks, yon minstrel has not so firmly clos'd,
But we can set it open, and go where'er we will."
"Silence!" return'd Sir Dietrich, "the devil prompts thee ill.

"I give you full permission," thus noble Gunther spake,
"Hence whom you will, Sir Dietrich, or few or many, take,
Except my mortal foeman; in Hungary have they
Done deadly wrong to Gunther, and here behind must stay."

Then lingered not the Berner; under his arm he took
The noble queen all trembling; fear-stricken was her look.
On the other side King Etzel away with him he led,
Eke many a stately champion forth with Sir Dietrich sped.

The noble Margrave Rudeger then cried, "If any more
May quit this house uninjur'd, and pass yon reeking door,
Tell us, who ever lov'd you, and now would serve your ends,
So peace will last for ever with true and faithful friends."

Thereto made answer Giselher, the knight of Burgundy,
"Let there be peace betwixt us and constant amity,
For you were ever faithful, you and your warriors tried,
So part ye hence in safety, and all your friends besides."

Soon as the good Sir Rudeger left the blood-reeking hall,
There follow'd him stout champions five hundred or more in all.
In this the lords of Rhineland did faithfully and well,
Yet ruin and destruction King Gunther thence befell.

Just then a knight of Hungary, who saw King Etzel take
His way beside Sir Dietrich, came nigh for safety's sake,
When him the furious minstrel with such a sword-stroke sped,
That at the feet of Etzel straight lay his sever'd head.

Soon as the Lord of Hungary from th' house had come at last,
He turn'd, and on fierce Folker as fierce a glance he cast.
"Woe's me for these fell strangers! Oh, grievous strait," he said,
"That all my faithful warriors should lie before them dead!

"Ah! woe for this sad meeting! woe for this festal-fight!
There spreads, within, destruction one that Folker hight;
Like a wild boar he rages, yet but a minstrel he.
Thank heaven! 'tis well in safety from such a fiend to be.

"In sooth, ill sound his measures; his strokes are bloody red;
His oft-repeated quavers lay many a hero dead.
I know not why this gleeman should spite us o'er the rest;
Never had I for certain so troublesome a guest."

Thereat straight to their quarters the noble knights withdrew,
The lord of Bern, Sir Dietrich, and the good margrave too.
To mix in that fierce struggle neither had desire,
And from it, too, their followers they bade in peace retire.

But had the bold Burgundians foreseen the deadly woe
That they from those two champions were soon to undergo,
Ne'er from the hall had either so quietly been sent,
But at their hands had suffer'd a bloody chastisement.

They, whom they pleas'd, permitted to leave that hall of ill;
Then rose within, redoubled, the death-cry wild and shrill.
The guests 'gainst their wrong-doers for deadly vengeance strove;
Folker the valiant minstrel, ah! how the helms he clove!

At the clash King Gunther turn'd, and to Hagan cried,
"Hear you what a measure Folker, the door beside,
Plays with each poor Hungarian who down the stairs would go;
See! what a deep vermilion has dyed his fiddle-bow!"

"I own, it much repents me," Hagan straight replied,
"That I sat here at table from the good knight so wide.
We still were constant comrades, not wont before to sever.
If we again see Rhineland, no chance shall part us ever.

"Now see, great king! right loyal to thee is Folker bold;
Well deserves the warrior thy silver and thy gold.
His fiddlestick, sharp-cutting, can hardest steel divide,
And at a stroke can shiver the morion's beamy pride.

"Never yet saw I minstrel so high and lordly stand,
As did to-day Sir Folker among the hostile band. On helms and clattering
bucklers his lays make music rare.
Ride should he good war-horses, and gorgeous raiment wear."

Of all the fierce Hungarians that at the board had been,
Now not a single champion remain'd alive within. Then first was hush'd
the tumult, when none was left to fight.
Then down his sword laid reeking each bold Burgundian knight.