Epics and Romances of the Middle Ages

VIII

THE RAVEN-FIGHT (BATTLE OF RAVENNA)

Dietrich goes to Bern

“Going back to Bern! Dietrich is going to Bern! We are to have a campaign in Lombardy,” was the cry which rang through the land of the Huns.

Yes; Dietrich was really going back, accompanied by many brave comrades new and old, and at the head of a large army. Even Etzel’s two sons, mere boys as they were, insisted on going too. The line of march lay through the great mountains and fair plains of Lombardy. Amelolt (Amelung) and Hildebrand, at the head of the Wölfings, stormed Garden, and took the fortress. But the old master had not time to stay and embrace the Lady Ute and his son Hadubrand, for they were not in the castle at the time, and he had to rejoin the army without delay. He came up with the rest at Padauwe (Padua), which Dietrich failed to subdue. The army, leaving Padauwe behind it, moved on to Bern, from which Dietrich heard that Ermenrich’s men had been expelled by the citizens.

At length the hero was at home in his beloved Bern, where he was received with great rejoicings. He had not long to rest; for a few days after his arrival, Alpher came, bringing a message from Duke Friedrich of Raben (Ravenna), that the Emperor Ermenrich was besieging his town, therefore he begged the hero’s assistance. The Bernese forces made a rapid march, and arrived unexpectedly in the neighbourhood of the imperial army.

It was of no use to send out scouts. The foe lay hidden in every thicket. Dietrich asked his heroes which of them would undertake to gain the enemy’s outpost, and immediately young Alphart, the Lady Ute’s foster-son, declared himself ready. Others wished to have the duty; but he had spoken first, and it was given to him.

Alphart’s Death

The youthful hero rode on towards the dangerous outposts. Suddenly, spears and arrows rained round him, and fell rattling from helm and shield. But they did no harm, for his armour had been made by dwarfs. The enemy’s leader rode up to him, and desired him to yield, saying that he might give him his sword without shame, for he was Duke Wölfing, and would return the weapon to Alphart when he was ransomed.

“What?” cried the hero, “are you Duke Wölfing, the only traitor of our race? You shall have your wages here to-day, and from my hands.”

The combat between the two men was short. Alphart slew his opponent. Upon this, the duke’s retainers hastened up to avenge him, but the young hero killed half of them, and put the rest to flight.

“A spirit from the nethermost hell has come to fight for Dietrich,” cried the men-at-arms. “It slew more than fifty of us single-handed, and we ourselves hardly escaped with our lives.”

“Do you not know that the hero of Bern is a son of the devil?” was the answer; “and what is more natural than that a father should come to his child’s assistance? No mortal man can be expected to fight with such a foe.”

“I will go out and see if it be not made of flesh and blood,” cried stout Wittich. “Even though it had all hell at its back, I care not; I must have a turn with it.”

He armed himself quickly, and caught up a sword without noticing that it was not Mimung. Heime, whose life he had saved a short time before, offered to go with him, and avenge him should he fall.

Alphart recognised the men from a distance.

“Ye are two faithless comrades,” he cried, “and have come to meet your doom.”

The combat between him and Wittich began forthwith, and the latter soon perceived that he had not Mimung. He was twice felled to the ground. In his sore distress, he called on his comrade to help him; but Heime hesitated, because it was considered dishonourable for two warriors to fight against one. When Alphart, however, called upon Wittich to yield, if he would not be slain on the spot, Heime sprang forward, and covered his comrade with his shield, thus enabling him to get to his feet again. After which both warriors attacked the young hero.

Alphart was as active on foot as he was strong of hand. He felled Heime, but Wittich came to his help, and so the battle went on. The three warriors bled from many wounds; but it was Heime’s hand that finally dealt the death-blow.

“Faithless comrades that ye are,” sighed the dying Alphart, “the curse of your dishonourable deeds will follow you to the grave.”

The conquerors left the place of combat in silence. They did not noise abroad the fame of their deed. Yet their armour was bloody, and they were sorely wounded. The men-at-arms whispered in mysterious tones:

“They have been fighting with that spirit from hell, have slain it, but have seen some terrible sight.”

The news of Alphart’s death was received with deep sorrow in the Bernese camp. Dietrich prepared to offer battle to the emperor on the following day, and made all necessary dispositions in case he fell in the fight.

The Battle

Master Hildebrand held watch. Not contented with keeping a distant look-out on the enemy’s movements, he went to see with his own eyes what was passing within their lines. A thick mist covered the earth, and hid every object from view. Suddenly the old master and his companion, Eckehart, heard the tramp of a horse. They drew their swords, and waited. At the same moment the moon broke through the mist, and they recognised by its light Rinold of Milan, who, although one of Ermenrich’s men, was at the same time a friend of theirs. They greeted each other heartily, and Rinold said that if he might advise Dietrich, he would counsel him to return to the land of the Huns, where he had made himself a home; for the emperor was too powerful to be overthrown.

After taking leave of their friend, Hildebrand looked about carefully, and discovered a path leading through a wood by which he could outflank the imperial forces unperceived. On his return to the camp, he arranged with Dietrich that he should take three divisions by this path, and fall upon the enemy at daybreak. Meantime, the king was to be ready to attack in front, the moment he heard Hildebrand’s horn sound to the rear of the enemy.

No sooner had the sun risen than the battle began. Great deeds of valour were done on either side. It were an endless task to tell of each hero’s achievements. Among those who fell were the two young sons of Etzel, who showed themselves worthy of their name.

During the course of that day, Dietrich and Wittich met at last, and it was in this wise. Twilight was drawing on apace, when Wittich, led by his evil star, or by his companion, Rinold of Milan, went back to visit the outpost. Dietrich saw them go, and, remounting, galloped across the valley towards the height, and the other two turned to meet him. When Wittich saw the king riding towards him, his face distorted by the angry spirit that possessed him, and his breath issuing from his mouth like flames of fire, a terror he had never known before overmastered him. He turned his horse and fled, followed by Rinold.

“Halt, cowards, halt!” cried the king. “Two against one! surely ye are strong enough?”

“Halt, comrade!” said Rinold, “I cannot bear the shame of this.”

Wittich turned; but no sooner did he see the terrible face and flaming breath of his old leader, than he fled once more, leaving Rinold alone to bear the brunt of the attack.

“Stop, traitor,” shouted Dietrich. “You have the sword Mimung in your hand, with which you once conquered me at Bern, and do you now fear to stand?”

But Wittich, by encouraging words, and a free use of the spur, urged his noble steed to a yet swifter pace. The king did the same, and Falcon was even fleeter than Wittich’s gallant charger. The surf might now be heard beating on the sea-shore. The fugitive warrior reached the strand. He could fly no farther. And behold, at the same moment, two white arms and a woman’s head rose out of the waves.

“Wachilde—ancestress—save me—hide me from that spirit of hell,” he cried, and took the terrible leap.

And Wachilde received him in her arms, and bore him to her crystal hall at the bottom of the sea. Dietrich did not hesitate to follow. The waters swept over him and his horse, but Falcon rose again and swam through the roaring surf to the shore. The king looked all about, but Wittich had vanished. He could see nothing but the foaming waves. Sadly the king returned to the camp, having found neither the vengeance nor the death he had sought.

The Huns declared that they would return home as soon as they had buried their princes with fitting honour. Dietrich heard their determination unmoved. He was thinking of those who had fallen. Master Hildebrand, on the other hand, did what he could to induce them to follow up the victory that they had gained the previous day; but it was labour lost. They had had enough of fighting at the battle of Ravenna.

Broken-hearted, Dietrich returned to King Etzel, by whom he was received with the greatest kindness, in spite of all that had come and gone. He sank into a state of sorrowful brooding and melancholy, until at length Herrat, his faithful wife, came to him, and spoke words of comfort and encouragement. And he roused from his dull woe, and started again for fair Lombardy, accompanied by the Queen.

IX

GOING HOME

To Garden

The King, Queen, and the old Master took leave of Etzel, who was too sad about the death of his boys to take much interest in their coming or going.

The travellers at length came to a wooded hill with a castle perched on the top. This castle belonged to a robber-knight named Elsung, who had always been an enemy of the Amelungs and Wölfings. The old master, who acted as guide, and led the way, bade the king be prepared. He did not speak a moment too soon, for Elsung at the same instant appeared, followed by some horsemen. The robber-knight drew rein, and haughtily demanded, as toll from the travellers, their horses and armour, Hildebrand’s long beard, and the beautiful woman who accompanied them.

“We need our horses and armour that we may fight in the land of the Amelungs,” said Hildebrand, “and we cannot spare the woman, for she acts as our cook.”

“Nay, then, you are Amelungs yourselves,” cried Elsung, “and must each give me your right hand and left foot as ransom. If you refuse, I will have your heads as well, that I may avenge my father, whom Samson slew.”

The heroes deigned no further answer. They paid another toll than that demanded with the points of their swords and spears, and with such hearty good will that Elsung’s men were either slain, or else took to flight, and their lord himself was finally overthrown and bound.

As Hildebrand was about to tie the prisoner to a horse, Elsung said:

“You are Ermenrich’s men, so I will tell you the news that has just reached me. The brothers of the Lady Swanhilde, whom the emperor had trodden to death by horses, have fallen upon him, and have cut off his hands and feet.”

“Ha!” cried the hero of Bern, “do you bring such good news? Take your liberty in payment thereof.”

The travellers now pursued their journey, and after meeting with several more adventures, at last arrived safely at Garden, where they were at first received with suspicion; but the Lady Ute recognised her husband the moment she saw him, and Hadubrand was introduced to his brave old father, whom he had not seen since his childhood.

To Bern

The hero of Bern was welcomed with the utmost joy by his people, and soon collected an army, which among its most celebrated warriors numbered brave Lodwig and his son Konrad, faithful Eckehart and his comrade Hache. Nor was Heime wanting; he had done penance for his sins in a cloister, and now, hearing of Dietrich’s return, hastened to him to renew his oath, death having released him from the fealty he had formerly owed to Ermenrich.

Dietrich’s and Sibich’s forces met. A terrible battle took place. Dietrich fought with heroic valour, sweeping down all before him. Eckehart and Hache sought untiringly for faithless Sibich, and at last they recognised him among the fugitives, although he had cast from him all signs of the imperial dignity he had usurped. Eckehart seized him by the scruff of the neck, swung him before him on his horse, and galloped back to the camp.

“Remember the Harlungs,” he cried, and immediately ordered a gallows to be erected.

Sibich entreated for life, bare life. He offered much red gold to have his death put off for even a short space, but—

“Remember the Harlungs,” was the only answer he received.

And so the victory was won. The hero of Bern marched to Romaburg at the head of his army. He was everywhere met by the princes of the land of the Amelungs. They greeted him as their chief, and on his arrival at Romaburg he received the imperial crown.

The Passing of Dietrich

Herrat was a faithful wife and helpmeet. The old master and many of his other ancient friends were round him; but in the midst of his glory Dietrich could not forget the faithful comrades who had died in his service, the friends who had given him their all, and to whom he could no longer show either love or kindness.

His power was great. The empire was more extensive than it had ever been before, and peace reigned within its borders. Once, indeed, a giant had committed great devastations within the land, and Heime had sought him out, but only to be slain. Dietrich himself had then gone forth, and had conquered the monster. It was the last combat in which the aged hero ever took part.

His wife, noble Herrat, soon after fell sick and died. From that time forward his character seemed changed. He was gloomy and morose, and committed many actions for which no after repentance could atone. The only one of his former pleasures that gave him any happiness was that of hunting. When he heard the cheerful sound of the horns, his face would clear up, and a smile play on his lips, and he would once more look like the Dietrich his friends had known of yore. Once, when he was bathing in the river, a great stag with golden horns, wonderful to look upon, trotted slowly along the bank, and passed into the wood close by. He sprang out of the water, threw on his clothes, and called for horse and hounds. Before the servants could bring him what he desired, Dietrich perceived a coal-black steed come towards him neighing. Seizing his sword and darts, he hastily mounted the noble animal, and galloped after the stag. His servants followed with the fleetest horses in his stables, but could not come up with him. The hero rode on faster, and ever faster. His people waited weeks, months, and even years for his return, but all in vain. The mighty empire had no ruler. Bloody wars broke out in consequence. His subjects longed for his return, that his strong hand might rule the land again; but still he did not come. Wodan, his ancestor, had caught him up to himself, and had made him one of his wild huntsmen. Many a benighted traveller has seen him rushing past, mounted on his coal-black steed. The people of Lausitz and other parts of Germany talk of him as Dietherbernet, and see him in the Furious Host even to this day.

PART SECOND

THE NIBELUNG AND KINDRED LEGENDS

THE NIBELUNG HERO

I

SIEGFRIED’S YOUTH

Once upon a time there was a noble prince in the Netherlands called Siegfried (Sigfrît, Siegwart, or Sigurðr). His father, Sigmund, was descended from the glorious race of the Wölfungs, who traced their lineage back to Wodan. His mother, Sigelinde, was of equally high birth. They both rejoiced in the early signs of strength and activity displayed by their son, and hoped that when grown to man’s estate, his heroic deeds might gain him glory and renown.

The boy, however, soon became aware of his wonderful strength, and showed a haughty, unbending spirit. He would suffer no contradiction: he beat his playfellows black and blue when they displeased him, even those among them who were much bigger than he. The older he grew, the more he was hated by all the other boys, and the more anxious his parents became regarding his future.

At last Sigmund told the queen that he only knew of one way to bring the young rebel under rule, and that was to apprentice him to the smith, Mimer, who lived in the neighbouring forest, and who was a strong and wise man, and would teach the boy how to forge the weapons he should one day wield as a warrior. The queen gave her consent, so the father took the necessary steps.

When the smith heard the whole story, he declared himself ready to undertake the task assigned him, for he had a strong belief in the pacifying effects of hard work. Everything went well for a time. One year passed on after another, till the prince grew almost to man’s estate. But labour in the smithy was irksome to him, and when his comrades set him right, he beat them, threw them down, and, on one occasion, went so far as to drag the best smith among them—Wieland—by the hair to his master’s feet.

“This will not do at all,” said Mimer; “come here and forge yourself a good sword.”

Siegfried was quite ready to do so. He asked for the best iron and the heaviest hammer, which was such a weight that it took both hands to wield it. Mimer drew the strongest bar of iron out of the forge, glowing red, and laid it on the anvil. Siegfried swung the hammer with one hand, as though it had been a plaything; but when it came down upon the iron the blow was like a clap of thunder, the house shook to its foundation, the iron shivered into splinters, and the anvil sank a foot deep into the ground.

“This will never do,” said the master as before; “we must try another plan, my boy, if you are to make yourself a suitable weapon! Go to the charcoal-burner in the pine wood, and fetch me as much of his charcoal as you can carry on your strong shoulders. Meanwhile I shall prepare the best iron to make you a sword, such as never yet was possessed by any warrior.”

Siegfried was so pleased to hear this, that picking up the largest axe he could find, he set out into the forest. It was a beautiful spring day. The birds were singing, and the grass was studded with violets and forget-me-nots. He plucked a bunch of the flowers, and stuck them in his leather cap, from a half-conscious feeling that they might perhaps bring him good luck. He went on further and further, till he reached the middle of a dark pine forest. Not a bird was to be seen; but the gloomy silence was broken by a gurgling, hissing, and roaring, that might easily have affrighted a less daring spirit. He soon found the reason of the noise. A dismal swamp lay before him, in which gigantic toads, snakes, and lind-worms were disporting themselves.

“I never saw so many horrible creatures in my life,” said Siegfried; “but I will soon stop their music.”

So saying, he picked up dead trees and threw them into the morass, till he had completely covered it. After which, he hastened on to the charcoal-burner’s house. Arrived there, he asked the man to give him fire that he might burn the monsters.

“Poor boy,” said the charcoal-burner, “I am very sorry for you; but if you go back the way you came, the great dragon will come out of his cave and make but a single mouthful of you. Smith Mimer is a faithless man; he came here before you, and told me that he had roused the worm against you, because you were so unmanageable.”

“Have no fear, good man,” answered Siegfried; “I shall first slay the worm, and then the smith. But now give me the fire, that I may burn the poisonous brood.”

The lad was soon back at the swamp. He set fire to the dry wood with which he had covered it, and let it blaze. The wind was favourable, and fanned the flames to a great fire, so that the creatures were all burnt up in a short space of time. The lad then went round the dismal swamp and found a small rivulet of hot fat issuing from it. He dipped his finger in it, and found, on withdrawing it, that it was covered with a horn-like skin. “Ah,” he thought, “this would be useful in war.” He therefore undressed, and bathed his whole body in the liquid fat, so that he was now covered with horn from head to foot, except in one place, between his shoulders, where a leaf had stuck to his skin. This he did not discover until later. He dressed himself again in his leather garments, and walked on, his club resting on his shoulder. Suddenly the dragon darted out upon him from its hiding-place; but three good blows of his club slew the monster. He then went back to the smithy to take vengeance on the master smith and his comrade. At sight of him, the men fled affrighted into the forest, but the master awaited the youth’s arrival. At first Mimer tried the effect of flattering words; but finding they were vain, he took to his sword. Siegfried then dealt him one mighty blow, and had no need to strike again.

Having done this, the lad went into the smithy, and with great patience and care forged himself a sword, whose blade he hardened in the blood of the lind-worm. Then he set out for his father’s palace. The king sharply rebuked him for his evil deed in slaying the master smith, who was so good a subject, and so useful to the whole country. And the queen, in her turn, reproached him with many tears, for having stained his hands with innocent blood. Siegfried, sobered by his father’s reproof, and softened by his mother’s tears, did not try to excuse himself; but, falling at the queen’s feet and hiding his face in his hands, he said the sight of her tears cut him to the heart, and for the future he vowed that his deeds should be those of a gentle knight. Then the hearts of the parents were comforted.

From that time forward Siegfried was changed. He listened to the advice of men of understanding, and strove to learn how to act wisely and well. Whenever he felt one of his old fits of passion coming over him, he thought of his mother’s tears and his father’s reproof, and conquered the evil spirit that threatened to master him. The expectations of the people were great respecting him: they were sure that in him their nation had found a new hero. And then, he was so handsome and graceful, that the women admired him as much for his looks as the men did for his prowess.

Young Siegfried sails to Isenland

His father and mother were so proud of him, that they longed for the day when his name and fame should be hailed with applause in every land.

The king at length deemed that the time was come to give Siegfried and his comrades, and many young nobles of his own and other lands, the sword and armour that marked a warrior. This investiture was in those days a ceremony of great importance, and took up the same place in a young man’s life as the ceremony of knighthood in later times. The solemn investiture was succeeded by feats of arms and trials of skill. Siegfried was victorious in all, and, at the end of the day, the populace shouted: “Long live young Siegfried, our king; long may he and his worthy father rule over us!”

But he signed to them, and said, “I am not worthy of such high honour. I must first win a kingdom for myself. I will entreat my noble father to allow me to go out into the world, and seek my fortune.”

When the warriors were all assembled at the feast in the royal hall, Siegfried did not take his place at the upper end of the table beside his father, but modestly seated himself among the young warriors who had still their names to make. Some of the party began to talk of distant Isenland, the kingdom of the beautiful and warlike Brunhild, who challenged all her wooers to do battle with her, thereby slaying many.

They talked of the land of the Nibelungs, learned in magic; of the Drachenstein, where a flying dragon, of fiendish aspect, had taken up its abode.

Others, again, talked of the lovely princess at Worms on the Rhine, who was carefully guarded by her three brothers and by her uncle, strong Hagen.

“Oh, how pleasant it must be to see such marvels, and to seek out adventures!” cried Siegfried, and approaching his father, he asked his permission to go out and see the world.

The king understood his desire, for he had had an adventurous youth himself; and promised to let him go, provided his mother gave her consent.

It was pain and grief to the queen to part with her son, but she at last permitted him to go, and one fine morning he set out, dressed in a shining suit of armour, mounted on a swift horse, and bearing the sword which he himself had made. His spirits were high, and his heart full of hope, as is the case with every youth of spirit who goes out into the unknown world to seek his fortune.

He went northwards in the direction of Isenland. On reaching the sea-shore, he found a vessel ready to start; but the skipper feared a storm, and only set sail at Siegfried’s entreaty. After a quick but tempestuous voyage, Siegfried landed, and went up to the palace.