Epics and Romances of the Middle Ages

Eugel then took leave of him, and returned to his home in the forest. When Siegfried and Chriemhild came down to the banks of the Rhine, the hero took the treasure that the dwarf had given him, and sunk it in the deep waters of the river.

“What is the use of gold to me?” he said. “My life is to be short, but glorious! Hide it in thy bosom, mighty river; may it gild thy waves and make them gleam more brightly in the sunlight! Gold does the devil’s work in the hands of the children of men; it sharpens the assassin’s dagger to strike some unsuspecting heart—perhaps mine. But as yet I live in the light of day. I will rejoice in my glory, and in my love for the sweetest maiden on the face of the earth.”

He then rejoined Chriemhild, and called the ferryman to take them across the Rhine, after which they pursued their way to Worms, and were received there with great rejoicing.

Siegfried took the first opportunity when he found Gunther alone to ask him for his sister’s hand, and the king answered:

“I will give her to you with all my heart, if you will first help me to win a high-born and most heroic woman to be my wife. I mean Brunhild, the proud queen of Isenland, for whose sweet sake many a wooer has already gone to his death.”

“I know her well,” replied Siegfried, “and have seen how she bears herself in the fray. She fights bravely and well, yet I do not fear but that she will find her masters in you and me. You will do well to prepare for an early start, that we may get back before the end of summer.”

Queen Ute and her daughter feared the result of the adventure, but Siegfried told them to be of good courage. He promised to stand by Gunther in life and death,—even the proud queen of Isenland would scarcely prove so hard an antagonist as the monster of the Drachenstein. The king proposed to take a thousand warriors in his train, but Siegfried dissuaded him; and when at last they started, the party of adventurers consisted of Gunther, grim Hagen, Dankwart, and himself.

IV

THE WOOING OF BRUNHILD

After a favourable voyage they arrived at Isenstein, and rode up to the palace. Servants hastened to meet them and take their armour and horses. Hagen was at first unwilling to give up his horse and armour, but he yielded when Siegfried told him that such was the law and custom at Isenstein. The warriors entered the hall where Brunhild awaited them, clad in her royal robes. She greeted her guests with courtesy, and told the Nibelung hero how glad she was to see him again, as she had been told of his great deeds of valour; adding that she supposed he had come to enter the lists. Siegfried then informed her that he had only come as the comrade of King Gunther, his lord, who desired to try his fortune, and who was well worthy of the high prize of victory.

“This is news to me!” said the queen, “I always thought you were your own man, and owed no allegiance to another.”

Then, turning to King Gunther, she told him that she had also heard of his great deeds, and asked him who were the warriors that bore him company. Gunther answered with many thanks for her kind reception, and explained who and what his companions were. Brunhild laughed, and asked whether he intended to fight aided by his three comrades.

“No, I alone am to fight,” answered the king; “I alone compete for the great prize.”

“Very well,” said the lady, “the lists are open, prepare to do your best.”

The warriors were led into the castle court, where a wide space was enclosed for the combat. The queen’s serving-men surrounded it, well armed. One of these proclaimed in a loud voice:

“If any nobly-born warrior ventures to play the three-fold play with the queen, and gains the victory, she and her kingdom shall be his; but if he is conquered, his head and wealth belong to her.”

Four grooms now dragged a great stone into the lists, which the combatants were to “put” (throw). It was as large and heavy as a millstone. Three other men brought in the huge broadsword which the maiden was accustomed to fling.

“If the woman can play with such a thing as that,” said Hagen, “she is the devil’s bride. No son of man can win her!”

“If we only had our weapons,” cried Dankwart, “neither the king nor we need lose our lives.”

“Be of good courage, King Gunther,” said Siegfried, “I will fetch my cap of darkness from the ship, and will help you without any one seeing that I do so.”

He hastened away whilst all eyes were fixed upon the queen, who now entered the court, surrounded by her ladies, and clad in full armour.

“Is it right, noble queen,” said Hagen, “that your men should be armed, while we remain defenceless?”

“Bring the warriors their armour,” commanded Brunhild. Then turning to Hagen, she continued: “But, for all that, you must lose your lives here. If I conquer Gunther, as I have hitherto conquered all who have entered the lists with me, your heads will fall under the axe of yonder man.”

The heroes looked in the direction in which she pointed, and perceived a man clad in blood-red garments standing without the barrier holding a sharp axe in his hand.

The trial of strength began.

Brunhild went up to the stone, lifted it in both hands, and flung it the length of six fathoms. After which, she leapt forward with one spring as light as a bird, making the point of her foot touch the stone. This feat was greeted with applause. Then came a silence as of death. Gunther advanced. Aided by Siegfried’s strength, he lifted the stone, weighed it in one hand, and flung it a full fathom farther than the queen. It was a stronger hand than his that helped him both in this and in the leap that followed, which carried him beyond the stone.

In the first feat of strength, he was thus indisputably the conqueror.

Then Brunhild rose with flashing eyes, and seized the heavy spear with its sharp steel point.

“Now look to yourself, proud king,” she cried, and flung the weapon with such force that it crashed through his shield, and would have laid him prostrate had not Siegfried come to his aid by turning the point towards the edge of the shield instead of the centre. Then tearing it out of the broken shield, he turned the weapon so that the blunt end pointed at the queen, and guiding Gunther’s hand, Siegfried launched it at her. And immediately Brunhild fell backwards, her chain armour rattling with the force of her fall.

The combat was at an end, the victory won. Brunhild rose. She stood calmly before the people, accepting her fate; but whoever could have read her heart would have seen it full of shame, anger, and a wild thirst for vengeance. The notables of Isenland were summoned to appear at Isenstein within three days to take the oath of allegiance to Gunther. Brunhild begged the Burgundian warriors to remain her guests during that time. She asked where the Nibelung hero was, and when he stepped forward, and said that he had been busied about the ship and the sailors, she called him a faithless servant for not having been by while his master played so dangerous a game.

A great feast was made in the hall. Many ladies were present, but the queen remained in her own apartments. Gunther’s feelings were very mixed. He was ashamed not to have won the victory single-handed, and yet he was pleased at having gained his object. Hagen drained many a cup of wine, and watched the laughing warriors around with a grim look on his stern face. When the heroes of the Rhine were taken to their common chamber, Hagen advised them to see that their weapons were at hand, because he feared the queen was nursing some treacherous plan against them. Bold Siegfried answered that he would at once set out for the land of the Nibelungs, and return with an army of good men and true. He made his way to the ship unperceived in the darkness, and set sail for his own kingdom. Arrived there, he went straight to the dwarf Alberich who guarded the treasure, and desired him to call out a thousand well-armed men to go with him to Isenland. His commands were obeyed in an incredibly short time, and he and his troops set out to join his friends. On the third morning, he landed in front of the palace, to the great joy of the Burgundians. The queen, on the other hand, was anxious, not knowing what the arrival of so large a force might mean. But Gunther comforted her by explaining that Siegfried had brought over a band of his Nibelungs to do honour to him, the king.

During the next few days everything was arranged for the proper government of Isenland, and when Brunhild at length took leave of her people and her mother’s brother, who had been appointed governor, there was hardly a dry eye to be seen. The queen herself was not happy, for she felt sure she would never see her home again; but Gunther would not let her lose time, being anxious to get back to Worms to celebrate his marriage.

When the travellers arrived in Burgundy, they were received with great joy by every one. The Lady Ute welcomed Brunhild as a daughter, and Chriemhild kissed her, and promised to be a faithful sister to her. So the two maidens stood side by side: the one, grand, beautiful, and mysterious as a starlight night; the other, sweet, gentle, and lovely as a May morning. None looking at them could say which was the fairest. But Siegfried had no doubt. He never moved from Chriemhild’s side till they reached the castle.

That evening, Gunther asked Siegfried and Chriemhild if they were still of the same mind as before, and, finding that they were, announced that he would make preparations for a double wedding on the following day.

Brunhild sat at the feast that evening by Gunther’s side, pale and cold as marble, while Chriemhild sat smiling and whispering between her mother and her lover.

“King of Burgundy,” said Brunhild, at last, “I cannot understand why you give your sister in marriage to one of your vassals. She ought to be the wife of a great king.”

“Say not so,” answered Gunther; “Siegfried is as much a king as I am. He is king of the Nibelungs, and, after the death of his father Sigmund, the whole Netherlands will belong to him.”

“It is a strange story,” she said; “he told me himself that he was your man.”

“I will explain it all to you another time,” replied Gunther; “we’ll say no more about it just now.”

The double wedding took place next day. When the ceremony was over, the old queen showed her daughter-in-law all her possessions, and gave up to her all authority in the house.

“Ah, mother Ute,” said the young wife, “the Burgundians are rich in wealth and great in power; but they are poor in wisdom and weak in action, otherwise King Gunther never would have come to Isenland.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned and left the room.

The feast was at an end, twilight had long fallen, and the guests all sought their beds. Gunther and his queen went to their private apartments. When he would have followed her into her room, she barred the way, saying,—

“This is no place for you; you can find a more fitting room elsewhere in the palace. If I permitted you to enter, I should lose my great strength.”

At first he tried entreaties, then threats, and lastly force. They wrestled together, but she very soon mastered him, bound him hand and foot, and left him lying outside the door. He did not sleep much that night.

Next morning, before the household was stirring, the proud queen loosed her husband’s bonds, desired him to hold his peace, and to respect her will in future. Gunther was sad at heart the whole day long; he looked at his wife with a feeling that was almost horror, and often left the feast to walk alone in the garden. Siegfried met him there, and asked what ailed him. When he heard the strange story, he cried:

“Be comforted, dear comrade; we have conquered this proud woman before, and I think we shall get the better of her again. I will follow you to-night, hidden under my cap of darkness, when you take the queen to her room. Blow out the candles and let me take your place. Then she shall have an opportunity of trying her great strength against me.”

“Ah, good comrade,” said Gunther, “I fear for your life. We did ill to bring her from Isenland to the sunny banks of the Rhine. She is a demon, as Hagen says, and has her marvellous strength from her friends the devils.”

“Well,” said Siegfried, “and even if a demon has taken up his abode in her heart, it shall go hard but we’ll get the better of him. I shall be with you to-night in my cap of darkness.”

The kings returned to the feast, Siegfried looking as cheerful as ever, while Gunther was bowed down by manifold cares and anxieties. At midnight Gunther led Brunhild to her room, blew out the candles, and immediately Siegfried took his place. The wrestling began, Brunhild pushed him between the wall and a cupboard, and tried to bind him with her girdle. She squeezed his hands till the blood spirted from under his nails. Such a wrestling-match was never seen between a man and a maid. He used all his hero-might, and pressed her into a corner of the room with such force, that, shivering and moaning, she entreated him not to kill her, and she would be an obedient wife. No sooner did Siegfried hear this than he slipped softly away, leaving Gunther alone with the queen.

The wedding festivities lasted eight days longer; then the guests took leave of their host, and went home with many rich gifts. Siegfried and his wife also made ready for their departure. The hero refused to take any dowry with his wife, for, in his opinion, the Nibelung treasure was wealth enough.

It was on a beautiful day that the travellers reached the Netherlands. King Sigmund and Queen Sigelinde came out to meet them, and received them with great joy. An assembly of the people was summoned to meet, and after a short speech from the throne, the old king and queen placed their crowns on the heads of Siegfried and Chriemhild. The people shouted, “Long live our young king and queen! May they reign as long and as happily as their forerunners!”

It seemed as if the people’s wish were to be realized, for years passed on, and all went well with the royal family. Queen Sigelinde had the great joy of holding a grandson in her arms. The child received the name of Gunther, in honour of his uncle in the distant Rhineland. And King Gunther, who had a son born about the same time, called the infant Siegfried. Not long after this the old queen was taken ill and died. This made a break in their domestic happiness; but still there was peace in the realm, and along its borders.

V

TREASON AND DEATH

Eight years, or thereabouts, had come and gone, when messengers arrived from Burgundy inviting Siegfried and Chriemhild to a great feast. They accepted the invitation, and Sigmund determined to accompany them to Worms.

Brunhild had said one day to her husband, “King Gunther, why does your brother-in-law Siegfried never come to our court like the other vassals? I should like to see both him and your sister Chriemhild. Pray send, and command their presence at court.”

“I told you before,” answered Gunther, somewhat nettled, “that my brother-in-law is as mighty a king as I. He rules over the Nibelungs and the Netherlands.”

“How strange!” she replied. “You cannot deny that he called himself your man when he was in Isenland.”

“Oh! he only said that to help me in my wooing,” said Gunther, feeling uncomfortable.

“You only say that,” was her answer, “to make your sister seem to have a higher rank. But however that may be, I should very much like to see them both at our court.”

“Very well,” he answered kindly, “I will send messengers to invite them to the Midsummer feast, and they will not refuse to come.”

He went away, and did as he had said. Brunhild remained alone, plunged in thought.

“There he goes,” she muttered. “The man that conquered the once heroic maiden, who thought herself strong enough to brave the battle like the Valkyrs of old. And he, what is he but a weak reed, moved hither and thither by every breath of wind that blows? How much greater Siegfried is! He is a hero with the world at his feet. But then a vassal! To be sure, none such could dare to raise his eyes to the queen of Isenland. Had he done so, she must have scorned him, and would scorn him to this very hour.”

Siegfried and his party came to Worms at the appointed time. There was no end to the feasting, tilting, and minstrelsy. Old Sigmund renewed his youth again, and delighted to talk of old days with the Lady Ute, whom he had known as a child. The young queens were always together, at church, or at the feast, or else in the gallery overlooking the tilt-yard. The only amusement to which Chriemhild did not accompany her sister-in-law was the chase.

One day when they were sitting together in the gallery watching the feats of agility and skill shown by the warriors, she said in the joy of her heart:

“Is not my Siegfried glorious among warriors, like a moon among the pale stars of night? He is a royal hero.”

“He is well deserving of your praise,” replied Brunhild, “but still he must yield the first place to my husband.”

“Of a truth,” answered Chriemhild, “my brother is a bold warrior, but he does not equal my husband in feats of arms.”

“Why,” said Brunhild, “did not win he the prize at Isenstein, while Siegfried remained with the ship?”

“Do you mean to accuse the Nibelung hero, the dragon-queller, of cowardice?” cried the young wife indignantly.

“He cannot stand so high as the king of Burgundy,” answered Brunhild, “for he is not his own man, but owes fealty to my husband.”

“You lie, proud woman!” exclaimed Chriemhild, her face flushing with anger, “you lie most insolently. My brother would never have let me marry a man who was not free. Siegfried owes no man allegiance, neither for Nibelungland nor yet for Netherland. The first kingdom he conquered with his own right hand, the other is his inheritance; and I, his queen, may hold my head as high as you.”

“Try it, chatterer! I shall always walk into church before you.”

With these words Brunhild left the gallery. Chriemhild felt both hurt and angry. It was the first grief that had ever befallen her, and she could not get over it. She went to her rooms, put on her costliest garments and the jewels that had come out of the Nibelung treasure; then, followed by her ladies and serving-men, she walked to the minster. Brunhild was already there with her train. She would have passed the proud woman silently, but the latter exclaimed:

“Your husband is my husband’s man, so wait here, and let your queen go first.”

“Better for you had you held your peace,” said Chriemhild. “A paramour go before a king’s wife, indeed!”

“Are you mad?” asked Brunhild. “What do you mean?”

“I will tell you what I mean,” replied Chriemhild, “when I come out of church;” and passing before her enemy, she went in to the house of God.

The proud queen stood still, weeping, at the entrance door. Shame and anger struggled in her breast, and she could scarcely wait till the end of the service. At length the door opened, and Chriemhild appeared.

“Now,” exclaimed Brunhild, “stop, and explain what you meant by your insulting words, you wife of a bondsman.”

“Wife of a bondsman?” repeated Chriemhild, as though she had not heard the other words. “Do you recognise the gold ring on my hand shaped like a serpent?”

“It is mine,” said Brunhild. “Now I know who stole it from me.”

“Well,” continued Chriemhild, “maybe you also remember the silken girdle I wear round my waist, with its gold buckles and precious stones. My husband gained both the ring and the girdle that night, when he, not Gunther, conquered you.”

Chriemhild went her way with the air of a hero on the day of his greatest victory. The proud queen remained standing where her sister-in-law had left her, her head bowed with shame. She sent for her husband, and when he came, told him how she had been insulted. And Gunther promised to ask Siegfried if he had any knowledge of what had taken place. He received his brother-in-law in the royal hall, and in the presence of many of his bravest warriors. He told him what had chanced, and immediately the Nibelung hero declared, in all good truth, that he had never spoken of dishonour and of the queen in the same breath; adding that too much weight should not be laid on the words that women spoke in anger. He then offered to clear himself by a solemn oath. But Gunther interrupted him, saying he knew him of old, and that his word was as good as his bond.

“Hearken, then, ye men of Burgundy,” said the hero; “you see that I am pronounced innocent of causing the humiliations your queen has endured, and indeed I have always regarded her as a modest woman, and a good wife. And now, dear comrade Gunther, chide your wife as I shall chide mine for what they have this day done, that we may never again be brought to dispeace by their idle chatter.”

He then turned and left the hall; but many a Burgundian felt that their queen had suffered a cruel wrong.

Next day Brunhild began to make preparations for her departure to Isenland. The king and his brothers entreated her to stay; but she sat silent and immovable as a stone figure.

“We cannot let you go,” cried the king. “We will at any cost expiate my sister’s thoughtless speech. What price do you demand?”

She rose, looked round the circle of warriors, and said in a hoarse and hollow voice:

“Blood!”

The Burgundians started, and stared at each other, none daring to speak. She continued in the same tone:

“Not all the waters of the Rhine could wash the stain from my honour. The heart’s blood of yonder man alone can do it.”

The uneasiness of the warriors increased; but Hagen said:

“Are the bold Burgundians grown weak with age? Have they become children again? I will explain the matter. Our queen demands the heart’s-blood of Siegfried. Ha! The words seem to terrify you!”

The Burgundians exchanged whispers about Siegfried’s strength, how it were certain death to fight with him, and, moreover, that he was innocent of all blame in the matter.

Then grim Hagen turned to Brunhild, and said, “Lady, it was against my advice that Gunther went to woo you in Isenland; but, now that you are our queen, your honour shall be safe in our hands. I will satisfy your desire.”

“But,” exclaimed young Giselher, “it is not the way in Burgundy to return evil for good. Siegfried has always been true to us, and I, at least, will not be false to him.”

Hagen tried to persuade Volker, the minstrel, to help him in the work of assassination, for Siegfried was not a man they could attack openly. But Volker refused. Ortwin offered himself in his stead, saying that the mere fact of Siegfried having given the ring and girdle to his wife was an insult to the queen of Burgundy, and must therefore be revenged.

Gunther here broke in passionately, “Such a murder would cast dishonour on all Burgundy, and it is my duty as the king to prevent it.”

“Lord of the Rhine,” cried Brunhild, rising from her seat, “I give you three days to think of it. After that, I either go to Isenland, or have my revenge.” With these words she left the room.

“No weapon can hurt him,” said the Margrave Gere, “for he has bathed in dragon’s blood, and is only vulnerable in one place, on which a lime-leaf fell when he was doing it.”

“If he guesses what we are after,” added Sindolt, “he and his thousand Nibelungs will conquer the kingdom.”

“I will do it by cunning,” said grim Hagen.

The king could not make up his mind one way or the other. He would—and would not. And when the warriors separated, nothing was settled. Three days later, when Gunther saw that the queen’s mind was fully made up, he consented with a sigh to let his uncle Hagen try his plan.

About this time heralds came from Lüdegast and Lüdeger to declare war against Burgundy. Siegfried at once promised to help his brothers-in-law to defend the country. The ladies were all busy preparing the jerkins their husbands were to wear. One day when Chriemhild was thus employed, Hagen entered her room. He bade her be of good cheer, because the hero having bathed in dragon’s blood was invulnerable.

“Good friend,” she answered sadly, “my Siegfried is so bold that he often pushes into the midst of the enemy, and, in such a case, he might easily be wounded in his only vulnerable point.”

Hagen begged her to embroider a little cross upon his jerkin to mark the place, so that he might always cover it with his shield. She promised to do so, and immediately worked a little cross with silver thread upon the garment. Her anxiety was needless, for the next day fresh messengers came to say that the kings had changed their minds regarding war, and were now determined to be true to their old alliance. Soon after this, Gunther made preparations for a great hunt to be given in honour of the continued peace. On the morning on which it was to be held, Chriemhild entreated her husband to remain at home. She had had such terrible dreams the night before, that she feared for his life. He laughed at her, and then kissed her, saying that a bad dream would be a foolish reason for keeping away from the hunt.