Part 5 (1/2)
”When now the thought would cross her how by the Rhine she sat Beside her n.o.ble husband, with tears her eyes were wet; Yet must she weep in secret that it by none was seen.”
Thus she proceeds sadly down the Danube to the Etzel castle, a stranger in a strange land concealing her deep woe under her royal splendor.
After seven years she bears to Etzel a son, Ortlieb, then six years more pa.s.s by twenty-six years in all since Siegfried was murdered at the linden fountain in the Oden forest then at last the time arrives to quench the thirst of her revenge.
Kriemhilde says to Etzel: ”For long years I have now been here in a strange land, and no one of my lofty kinsmen has visited us. No longer may I bear the absence from my relatives, for already the rumor goes here, since no one of my family visits us, that I am an exile and a fugitive from my land, without home or friends.” The king, ever ready to please Kriemhilde, sends the two singer-heroes, Werbel and Swemlin, to Worms as envoys to invite the Burgundian kings with their suite to visit Hungary at the next solstice. Kriemhilde urges all her relatives to come. The ever suspicious Hagen dissuades the kings from the journey.
”You know indeed what we have done to Kriemhilde, that I with my own hand slew her husband. How can we dare to travel in Etzel's land? There we shall lose life and honor King Etzel's wife is of long revenge!” When his warning fails, he advises that the expedition shall be strongly armed and of large numbers. All the va.s.sals are summoned, and eleven thousand men go joyfully forth on their dire mission. The element of music and song is not wanting; brave, cheerful Volker, the fiddler, an expert singer and musician as well as a great warrior, is of the party.
Kriemhilde is informed of the success of the mission, and voices her grim joy: ”How are you pleased with the good tidings, dear husband and master; what I have desired ever and ever is now fulfilled.” ”Your will is mine,” replied Etzel; ”I never rejoiced thus over the arrival of my own relatives as I do over the arrival of yours.”
An ill omen almost prevents the fateful expedition. The h.o.a.ry mother of the Burgundian Kings and of Kriemhilde dreams, during the preparations for departure, that all the birds in the land lie scattered dead on the fields and groves. Hagen realizes the purport of the dream; but when scorned by Gernot, he says: ”It is not fear that moves me; if you order the journey, I shall ride gladly to Etzel's land.”
The journey is full of adventures and novel experiences; Hagen, because he is well versed in the intricate roads, is the leader; his adventure with the mermaid-prophetesses is recorded in the first episode. Out of the rustling water the ominous voice of the swan-virgin is heard: ”Hagen, Aldrian's son, I will warn thee. Return, as long as it is time yet; no one of your great host will return across the Danube, but one man, the king's chaplain.” Hagen fights with the ferryman, whom he found, according to the warning of the mermaids, untrustworthy. He slays him and hurls the corpse into the flood, but, though this is done, the kings still see his blood streaming in the s.h.i.+p. Hagen himself ferries the entire army over the stream. On the last boat rides the chaplain.
Him Hagen seizes, as he leans with his hand on the sanctuary, and hurls him pitilessly beneath the surface of the rippling water. The chaplain then turns and safely reaches the home bank; as he shakes in his dripping garments, he sees the Burgundians file into the distance. The first prophecy is fulfilled, and Hagen now realizes the irretrievable doom that awaits the kings and their followers. He destroys the s.h.i.+p, knowing well that it will serve for no one's safe return from the land of the Huns; but he justifies the act as a means of preventing retreat if a coward sought to gain safety by flight.
The description of the hospitality afforded to the Burgundians by Margrave Rudiger of Bechlarn, in Austria, is a cla.s.sical account of German court life. In it are welded together the customs and manners both of the migration period and the transition period between the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. In the n.o.ble hostesses, Rudiger's wife, Gotelinde, and Dietlinde, her lovely daughter, are depicted true types of the loftiest German womanhood. The royal housewife receives the guests in true German fas.h.i.+on, with a kiss, thus honoring the brothers of her queen. The lovely maiden, too, proceeds along the ranks of the king's suite, offering them the kiss of welcome; but, with the intuitive soul of a pure German woman, she shudders before Hagen's grim features, and only in obedience to her father's order she offers to him her pale cheek for a kiss. There is hardly in any literature such a charming ill.u.s.tration of the joyous nature of a people, as shown in their customs and pleasures and music, as the banquet given by Rudiger. Good cheer prevails at the joyful table over which presided the n.o.ble and hospitable Gotelinde. During the afternoon, the daughter of the house appears with her companions to inspire Volker to song and merry jest.
The climax of the scene is reached when the Burgundian heroes woo lovely Dietlinde for the youngest of their kings, Giselher. The suit is accepted by the parents, and the betrothal of the n.o.ble couple is concluded amid joyful consent and pleasurable antic.i.p.ation of the marriage, which is to be celebrated when the Burgundians return from Etzel's court. When the hour of parting approaches, precious gifts are exchanged in truly Homeric fas.h.i.+on as a symbol of intimate connection and eternal friends.h.i.+p. Rudiger presents Gernot with his own sword, which he had gloriously wielded in many a battle. The last blow of the glorious, but ill-fated, sword is, alas! to cleave the head of n.o.ble Rudiger himself. Gotelinde honors Hagen with the s.h.i.+eld of her own father, who had fallen in battle.
Dietrich, the hero, first receives the Burgundians on Hunnish soil: ”Be welcome, Gunther, Gernot, and Giselher; be welcome, Hagen, Volker, and Dankwart; are you unaware that Kriemhilde still grievously weeps for the hero from the Nibelung land?” ”May she weep yet for a long time: he has been slain many years ago; Siegfried will never return; may she cling to the King of the Huns,” is Hagen's grimly defiant reply. ”How Siegfried fell we will not now investigate: but so long as Kriemhilde lives, grievous calamity is impending; do thou beware of it most of all, O Hagen, heir of the Nibelungs.” Still more definitely Dietrich expresses his fears to the Burgundian kings in secret interview; though unaware of a determined plot of revenge, he knows that Etzel's wife raises every morning her loud dirge to mighty G.o.d for strong Siegfried's direful death. ”It cannot now be helped,” replies the brave fiddler Volker; ”let us ride to Etzel's court and await what is destined to us by the Huns.”
When the eagle helmets and coats of arms of the Burgundians gleam at the gate entrance to the castle, Kriemhilde exclaims: ”There are my relatives; let him who loves me be mindful of my sorrow.” The heroes are received at Etzel's castle with barbarous splendor, yet a terrible gloom seems to overhang everything. Hagen and Volker, in the consciousness that death is near, join each other in a personal compact for life and death. They seat themselves outside on a stone bench, and are looked at with fear and awe. When Kriemhilde sees from the window her deadly enemy, she is overcome by emotion, her tears flow, and she calls upon her royal va.s.sals around her to avenge her bitter woe and sorrow on Hagen, the murderer of Siegfried. Sixty men buckle on their armor.
Kriemhilde herself, with the royal crown on her head, descends to the courtyard to obtain from Hagen's own lips the confession of his deed as a testimony for her men. ”I know,” she says, ”he is so haughty, he will not deny it, so I do not care what happens to him for the deed.” While the sixty hostile warriors approach, the two Burgundian heroes once more renew their bond for life and death. To Hagen's question whether Volker will stand by him ”in true love as I shall never forsake you,” Volker replies: ”So long as I live, even though all Hunnish knights storm against us I do not yield from you, Hagen, not a finger's breadth.” ”Now G.o.d reward you, n.o.ble Volker, what more do I need? Let them approach, the armored heroes!” This splendid monument of German loyalty partially reconciles us to the horrors soon to be enacted.
Kriemhilde then approaches the terrible pair. Though Volker prompts his comrade to rise before the queen, Hagen defiantly remains seated, and lays before him on his knees a s.h.i.+ning sword with a brilliant jewel of green color on the handle. Kriemhilde at once recognizes Siegfried's saga-famed sword Balmung. Her grief is thus renewed. ”Who bade you come, Hagen, how could you dare to ride hither? Do you not know what you have done to me?”
”No one sent for me; three kings have been invited hither, they are my masters, I their va.s.sal; where they are, I am.”
”You know indeed,” continued Kriemhilde, ”why I detest you? You have slain Siegfried, and for him I shall weep to the very end.”
”Yes,” snarled grim Hagen, ”I did slay Siegfried, the hero, because Lady Kriemhilde chided fair Brunhild, my queen. Avenge it whoever will, I confess, I caused you much sorrow.” Thereupon, war is declared for life and death. However, the sixty Hunnish heroes do not dare to attack the two Burgundians, who rise and go to the royal hall in order that they may stand by their kings should they be in distress.
Kriemhilde enters and salutes her brothers, but bestows a kiss and handshake only on Giselher, the youngest. Hagen ties his helmet more tightly. Kriemhilde inquires whether they had brought her property, the Nibelung treasure, with them.
”The Nibelung treasure,” replies Hagen scornfully, ”has been buried in the deepest Rhine where it shall lie till the last day, and
”'To thee I bring the devil!
In this my buckler have I quite enough to bear, And also in my armor this helm so fairly wrought This sword my hand is holding; therefore I bring thee naught.'”
Kriemhilde requests the Burgundians to give up their arms, as is customary, at friendly visits; Hagen refuses. She thus realizes that the Burgundians must have been warned.
”Who has done this?” she inquires angrily. Proudly and firmly Dietrich replies: ”It is I, I have warned them; on me, thou, terrible one, wilt not avenge this warning.” Before his piercing eye Kriemhilde conceals her boiling anger and retreats, throwing hostile glances upon her enemies. The guests, too, retire guarded by the indefatigable Hagen and Volker. For the last time, Volker's music rings out into the night as he sings in sweet melodies the parting from life. It is the _dirge_ for the Burgundian kings and heroes. Kriemhilde vainly endeavors to enlist Hildebrand and Dietrich to aid her revenge. Both refuse.
”He who will slay the Nibelungs will do it without me,” says Hildebrand.
Nor will Dietrich break faith to those who came in good faith and from whom he had suffered no harm. He says: ”By my hand Siegfried will remain unavenged.”
At last the queen by great promises wins Blodel, Etzel's brother. He agrees to attack the lesser knights and the men-at-arms who under Dankwart's command rest in the out-houses. During the surprise, Kriemhilde quietly enters the dining hall of the royal castle where the great heroes are already a.s.sembled. Her son Ortlieb, only five years old, is presented by Etzel to his uncles and their favor is bespoken when the prince shall be sent to Burgundy for his education. Now the untamed fury of Hagen suddenly breaks out in a fearful explosion. The fierce savagery of the Migration period, regardless of the Christian varnish of the thirteenth century, in striking contrast to the elegiac traits exhibited in the departure of the kings, in Giselher's betrothal to Dietlinde and voiced in Volker's sweet melodies, reappears in an unheard of act of brutal murder. Hagen exclaims that the young king does not look to him as if he would grow very old; that no one would ever see him in Ortlieb's court. While everybody is yet stunned by the ferocious prophecy of the terrible man, Dankwart breaks into the festal hall and shouts:
”Why do you sit here so long, brother Hagen; to you and to G.o.d in heaven do I complain of our distress. Knights and servants lie altogether slain in the outhouse.” Indeed, Blodel had kept his word, but lost his life in the attempt. Not one Burgundian escaped the carnage, save Dankwart who succeeded in cutting his way through the press. Hagen sprang up like a wounded lion, the sword shone in his mighty hand, and with one blow the head of the innocent royal child was tossed into the lap of his mother Kriemhilde. This atrocious deed is the signal for a universal carnage.
In her deathly agony Kriemhilde appeals to Dietrich, who is at once ready to fulfil his duty toward the queen and consort of his host and protector, Etzel. Dietrich demands peace for himself and his men, who are no partic.i.p.ants in the strife. King Gunther bids all go who are not involved in the murder of his men; he will take his revenge but on the retinue of Etzel who are in the plot. Etzel and Kriemhilde, Rudiger of Bechlarn, Dietrich and his retinue, leave the hall. Then the battle began to rage again, until all Etzel's men were slain. Their bodies were hurled by the Burgundians downstairs in front of the door. Intoxicated by the victory, Hagen, in the doorway, reviles Kriemhilde for her second marriage, and the latter, exasperated, promises to fill Etzel's s.h.i.+eld with gold for him who would bring her Hagen's head. It is not our task to describe here the battle, the blood flowing in rivulets from the hall to the courtyard. The attempt to obtain a free departure from the hall to die in open battle fails, since Kriemhilde fears Hagen might escape her vengeance. Yet even among those horrors a feature of love and truth is not missing. Giselher, who was hardly a boy when Siegfried was murdered, addresses his sister:
”O fair sister, how could I expect this great and dire calamity when thou invitedst me from the Rhine. How do I deserve death in this strange land? At all times was I true to thee, and never did I a wrong; I hoped to find thee loving and gracious to me; let me die quickly, if it must be!”