Struck by Liebgart's resemblance to the dead Sigeminne, Wolfdietrich stood quietly in the shade long enough to overhear her sigh and say that she wished the brave Wolfdietrich would come along that way and avenge her husband's death.
[Sidenote: Wolfdietrich and Liebgart.] In answer to these words the hero presented himself impetuously before her, swore he would do all in his power to fulfill her wishes, and having received from her fair hand a ring, which she declared would bring the wearer good luck, he hastened off to the mountain gorge to encounter the dragons. On the way thither, Wolfdietrich met Alberich, who cautioned him not to yield to the desire for slumber if he would overcome the foe; so pressing on in spite of almost overpowering lassitude, he met the dragon.
Notwithstanding all his efforts Wolfdietrich soon found himself carried off to the monster's cave, where he was flung down to serve as pasture for the young lind-worms. They would surely have devoured him had he not been protected by Sigeminne's magic shirt, which they could not pierce.
[Sidenote: Ortnit's sword and ring.] Looking about him for some weapon to defend himself with, Wolfdietrich suddenly saw Ortnit's ring and his sword Rosen, which he seized, and wielded the latter to such good purpose that he soon slew all the dragons. He then cut out their tongues, which he packed in a bag the dwarfs brought him, and triumphantly rode off to find Liebgart and tell her of his success. But, as he lost his way in the forest, it was several days before he reached the town where she dwelt, and as he rode through the gates he was indignant to hear that Liebgart was about to marry a knight by the name of Gerhart, who had slain the dragon, brought home its head, and claimed the fulfillment of an old promise she had made to marry her husband's avenger. Wolfdietrich spurred onward, entered the castle, denounced the impostor Gerhart, and proved the truth of his assertions by producing the dragons' tongues. Then, turning to the queen, Wolfdietrich stretched out his hand to her, humbly asking whether she would marry him. At that moment Liebgart saw Ortnit's ring glittering on his finger, and, remembering her husband's last words, immediately signified her consent.
The happy couple spent a whole year together in restoring order, peace, and prosperity to the Lombards, before Wolfdietrich left his wife to go and succor the companions whom he had neglected so long. Landing with his army near Constantinople, Wolfdietrich, disguised as a peasant, made his way into the city, and learned that Berchther and his sons had been put in prison. There the former had died, but the latter were still languishing in captivity. Wolfdietrich bribed the jailer to bear them a cheering message and strengthening food, and led his army against Sabene, whom he utterly routed.
After recovering possession of Constantinople, granting full forgiveness to his erring brothers, executing Sabene, and liberating his companions, to whom he intrusted the sovereignty of the empire, Wolfdietrich returned to Lombardy, and from thence proceeded with Liebgart to Romaburg (Rome), where he was duly crowned emperor.
To reward Herbrand, Berchther's eldest son, for his faithfulness, Wolfdietrich gave him the city of Garden and all its territories, a realm which subsequently was inherited by his son Hildebrand, a hero whom we shall have further occasion to describe.
Hache, another of Berchther's sons, received as his share all the Rhine land, which he left to his son, the trusty Eckhardt (Eckewart) who ever and anon appears in northern literature to win mortals back to virtue and point out the road to honor. Wolfdietrich and Liebgart were the happy parents of a son called Hugdietrich, like his grandfather; and this king's second son, Dietmar, was the father of the famous Dietrich von Bern, the hero of the next chapter of this volume.
DIETRICH VON BERN, whose name is spelled in eighty-five different ways in the various ballads and chronicles written about him, has been identified with the historical Theodoric of Verona, whose "name was chosen by the poets of the early middle ages as the string upon which the pearls of their fantastic imagination were to be strung."
This hero is one of the principal characters in the ancient German "Book of Heroes," and his adventures, which are recorded in many ancient manuscripts, and more especially in the Wilkina saga, are about as follows:
[Sidenote: Parentage of Deitrich.] Dietmar, the second son of Hugdietrich, or of Samson according to other authorities, became the independent ruler of Bern (Verona), and refused to recognize his elder brother, Ermenrich, Emperor of the West, as his liege lord. The young prince had married Odilia, the heiress of the conquered Duke of Verona, who bore him a son called Dietrich. Gentle and generous when all went according to his wishes, this child was uncontrollable when his anger was roused, and his breath then came from his lips in a fiery torrent, scorching his opponent, and consuming all inflammable articles.
When Dietrich was but five years of age his training was intrusted to Hildebrand, son of Herbrand, one of the Volsung race; and so well did the tutor acquit himself of this task that he soon made his pupil as accomplished a warrior as himself. Their tastes were, moreover, so similar that they soon became inseparable friends, and their attachment has become as proverbial among northern nations as that of David and Jonathan, Damon and Pythias, or Orestes and Pylades.
Hearing that a giant, Grim, and a giantess, Hilde, were committing great depredations in a remote part of his father's territories, and that no one had been able to rout or slay them, young Dietrich set out with Master Hildebrand to attack them. They had not ridden long in the forest before they became aware of the presence of a tiny dwarf, Alberich (Alferich, Alpris, or Elbegast), and pouncing upon him, they held him fast, vowing that he should recover his liberty only upon condition of pointing out the giants' lurking place.
[Sidenote: The sword Nagelring.] The dwarf not only promised the desired information, but gave Dietrich the magic sword Nagelring, which alone could pierce the giants' skin. Then he led both heroes to the cave, where Grim and Hilde were gloating over a magic helmet they had made and called Hildegrim. Peering through a fissure of the rock, Hildebrand was the first to gaze upon them, and in his eagerness to get at them he braced his shoulder against the huge mass of stone, forced it apart, and thus made a passage for himself and for his impetuous young pupil.
As Nagelring, the magic sword, had been stolen from him, Grim attacked Dietrich with a blazing brand snatched from the fire, while Hildebrand and Hilde wrestled together. The encounter was short and fierce between the young hero and his gigantic opponent, who soon succumbed beneath Nagelring's sharp blows. Then Dietrich, turning, came just in time to save his master from Hilde's treacherous blade. But, although one stroke of Nagelring cut her in two, the heroes were dismayed to see the severed parts of her body knit together in a trice, and permit Hilde, whole once more, to renew the attack.
To prevent a repetition of this magical performance, Dietrich, after again cutting her in two, placed his sword between the severed parts, and, knowing that steel annuls magic, left it there until all power to unite was gone and Hilde was really dead. The two heroes then returned home in triumph with Nagelring and Hildegrim, the two famous trophies, which Dietrich took as his share of the spoil, leaving to Hildebrand an immense treasure of gold which made him the richest man of his day. This wealth enabled Hildebrand to marry the noble Ute (Uote or Uta), who helped him to bring up Dietrich's young brother, then but a babe.
Although the young prince of Bern imagined that he had exterminated all the giants in his land, he was soon undeceived; for Sigenot, Grim's brother, coming down from the Alps to visit him, and finding him slain, vowed to avenge his death. The brave young prince, hearing that Sigenot was terrorizing all the neighborhood, immediately set out to attack him, followed at a distance by Hildebrand and the latter's nephew, Wolfhart, who was always ready to undertake any journey, provided there was some prospect of a fight at the end.
Dietrich soon came to a forest, where, feeling hungry, he slew an elk and proceeded to roast some of its flesh upon a spit. While he was thus engaged he heard shrill cries, and looking up, he saw a giant holding a dwarf and about to devour him. Ever ready to succor the feeble and oppressed, Dietrich caught up his sword and attacked the giant, who made a brave but fruitless defense. The dwarf, seeing his tormentor dead, then advised Dietrich to fly in haste, lest Sigenot, the most terrible of all the mountain giants, should come to avenge his companion's murder. But, instead of following this advice, Dietrich persuaded the dwarf to show him the way to the giant's retreat.
[Sidenote: Capture of Dietrich by giant Sigenot.] Following his tiny guide, Dietrich climbed up the snow-clad mountains, where, in the midst of the icebergs, the ice queen, Virginal, suddenly appeared to him, advising him to retreat, as his venture was perilous in the extreme. Equally undeterred by this second warning, Dietrich pressed on; but when he came at last to the giant's abode he was so exhausted by the ascent that, in spite of all his courage, he was defeated, put in chains, and dragged into the giant's den.
[Illustration: FALKE KILLS THE GIANT.—Keller.]
Hildebrand, in the mean while, following his pupil, awaited his return at the foot of the mountains for eight days, and then, seeing that he did not appear, he strode up the mountain side. The giant encountered him, stunned him with a great blow, and dragged him into the den, where, thinking him senseless, he leisurely began to select chains with which to bind him fast. Hildebrand, however, sprang noiselessly to his feet, seized a weapon lying near, and stealing behind a pillar, which served him as a shield, he attacked Sigenot, and stretched him lifeless at his feet.
[Sidenote: Dietrich rescued by Hildebrand.] A moment later he heard Dietrich calling him from the depths of the cave. To spring forward and free his pupil from his chains was the work of a moment, and then, following the dwarf, who openly rejoiced at the death of his foe, the two heroes visited the underground kingdom. There they were hospitably entertained, their wounds were healed, and the king of the dwarfs gave them the finest weapons that they had ever seen.
While hunting in the Tyrolean mountains shortly after this encounter, Dietrich confided to Hildebrand that he had fallen in love with the ice fairy, Virginal, and longed to see her again. This confidence was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a dwarf, who presented himself as Bibung, the unconquerable protector of Queen Virginal, but who in the same breath confessed that she had fallen into the hands of the magician Ortgis. The latter kept her imprisoned in one of her own castles, and at every new moon he forced her to surrender one of the snow maidens, her lovely attendants, whom he intended, to devour as soon as they were properly fattened.
Dietrich's eyes flashed with anger when he heard of his lady-love's distress, and bidding the dwarf show him the way, he forthwith set out to rescue her. They had not gone very far before they beheld the ice queen's palace glittering far above their heads; and as they eagerly climbed upward to reach it, they heard cries of terror, and saw a beautiful girl rush down the pathway, closely pursued by the magician and his mounted train.
[Sidenote: Magician Ortgis slain.] Dietrich allowed the maiden to pass him, and then stepped boldly into the middle of the path, where he and Hildebrand soon succeeded in slaying the magician and all his men. Jambas, the son of Ortgis, alone effected his escape; but Dietrich and his master closely pursued him, took forcible possession of his castle, set the captive snow maidens free, and fearlessly slew all the monsters which Jambas conjured up to destroy them. Then, resuming their interrupted journey, Dietrich and Hildebrand soon came face to face with the self-styled unconquerable guardian of the ice queen. He had been hiding during the fray, and now implored them to hasten forward, as his mistress was besieged by Jambas. The magician's son was anxious to secure Virginal and all her maidens, but his principal aim was to appropriate the great carbuncle shining in the queen's crown, as it gave the possessor full power over the elements, the mountains, and all who ventured within reach of them.
Thus urged to greater speed, the heroes toiled upward faster and faster, and soon came near the glittering castle of Jeraspunt, and the besiegers. The latter were on the point of overpowering the garrison and gaining possession of the queen. When Dietrich saw her on the battlement, wringing her hands in despair, he rushed impetuously forward, crying that he had come to save her. He struck right and left, and did such good execution with his sword that the mountains shook, the icebergs cracked, and great avalanches, rolling down into the abysses, carried with them the bodies of the slain which he hurled down from the drawbridge.
[Sidenote: Rescue of the ice queen.] In a very short time the enemy was completely routed, and Dietrich was joyfully welcomed by Virginal, who, touched by his devotion, consented to forsake her glittering castle, relinquish her sway over the mountains, and to follow him down into the green valley. Their wedding was celebrated in Jeraspunt, which was all hung in bridal white; and the ice queen and her maidens wore misty veils and crowns of glittering diamonds, which sparkled and flashed and lit up the whole scene with fairylike splendor. Some versions of the story tell, however, that the queen soon grew homesick down in the green valley, and, deserting her hero husband, returned to her palace on the mountain top, where she still rules supreme.
Dietrich's numerous adventures soon became the theme of the wandering bards and minstrels, and thus the rumor of his courage came to the ears of Heime, the son of the northern stud keeper Studas. After distinguishing himself at home by slaying a dragon, this youth obtained from his father the steed Rispa and the sword Blutgang, with which he set out to test Dietrich's courage, vowing that he would serve him forever if conquered by him.
"King Tidrick sits intill Bern;He rooses [boasts] him of his might;Sae mony has he in battle cow'd,Baith kemp [rough] and doughty knight."The Ettin Langshanks(Jamieson's tr.).
Heime soon reached Bern, boldly challenged Dietrich, and when defeated entered his service, after procuring for his master's exclusive use the matchless steed Falke, which could carry even such a gigantic man as Dietrich without showing any signs of fatigue, and which served him faithfully for many a year.
[Sidenote: Wittich.] The rumor of Dietrich's courage also came to Heligoland, where Wieland (Wayland, or Völund), the smith, dwelt with his son Wittich (Witig). The latter, determined to cross swords with the hero of Bern, persuaded his father to give him the celebrated sword Mimung, by the help of which he hoped to overcome every foe. Wieland also fashioned a complete suit of armor for his son, gave him much good advice, and parted from him, bidding him to prove himself worthy of his ancestors, and to call upon his grandmother, the mermaid Wachilde, if he were ever in great distress.
Thus instructed Wittich departed, and on the way to Bern fell in with Hildebrand, Heime, and Hornbogi, another of Dietrich's noted warriors. They concealed their names, encouraged the stranger to talk, and soon learned where he was going and on what errand. Master Hildebrand, hearing of the magic sword, and anxious to preserve his pupil from its blows, allowed Wittich to fight single-handed against twelve robbers in a mountain pass. As the youth disposed of them all without receiving a scratch, Hildebrand substituted his own sword blade for that which Wittich bore, one night while the latter was peacefully sleeping at an inn. This exchange remained unnoticed until Wittich arrived in Bern. There, while fighting with Dietrich, the blade suddenly snapped in two.
Loudly reproaching his father, Wieland, for having provided him with such an unreliable weapon, Wittich was about to announce himself conquered, when Hildebrand, realizing that he had not acted honorably, gave him back his own blade. Dietrich, to his surprise and dismay, found himself conquered in this second encounter, and was forced to acknowledge that he owed his life only to Wittich's magnanimity. But the northern hero soon confessed in his turn that had it not been for his magic sword he would have been obliged to yield to Dietrich, and voluntarily offered his services to him, thus becoming one of his train.
"Sae gladly rode they back to Bern;But Tidrick maist was glad;And Vidrich o' his menyie a'The foremost place aye had."The Ettin Langskanks(Jamieson's tr.).
Dietrich's next adventure, which is recorded in the "Eckenlied," was with the giant Ecke, who held Bolfriana, the widowed Lady of Drachenfels, and her nine daughters, in his power. The hero of Bern encountered the giant by night, and, in spite of his aversion to fighting at such a time, was compelled to defend himself against the giant's blows. He was about to succumb when his steed Falke, scenting his danger, broke loose from the tree to which it had been tied, and stamped Ecke to death.
Dietrich now rode on to Drachenfels, where he encountered Fasolt, Ecke's brother, and, after defeating him also, and delivering the captive ladies, went back to Bern, where Fasolt joined his chosen warriors. Dietrich, moreover, delivered the knight Sintram from the jaws of a dragon, and made him one of his followers. Then, having appropriated Ecke's sword, the great Eckesax, Dietrich was about to give Nagelring to Heime; but hearing that the latter had stood idly by while Wittich fought single-handed against twelve robbers, he banished him from his presence, bidding him never return until he had atoned for his dishonorable conduct by some generous deed.
Heime, incensed at this dismissal, sulkily withdrew to the Falster wood on the banks of the Wisara (Weser), where he became chief of a body of brigands, ruthlessly spoiled travelers, and daily increased the hoard he was piling up in one of his strongholds.
But, although Dietrich thus lost one of his bravest warriors, his band was soon reënforced by Hildebrand's brother Ilsan, who, although a monk, was totally unfitted for a religious life, and greatly preferred fighting to praying. There also came to Bern Wildeber (Wild Boar), a man noted for his great strength. He owed this strength to a golden bracelet given him by a mermaid in order to recover her swan plumage, which he had secured.
[Sidenote: Dietlieb the Dane.] As Dietrich was once on his way to Romaburg (Rome), whither his uncle Ermenrich had invited him, he accepted the proffered service and escort of Dietlieb the Dane. This warrior, seeing that the emperor had forgotten to provide for the entertainment of Dietrich's suite, pledged not only his own steed and weapons, but also his master's and Hildebrand's, leading a jolly life upon the proceeds.
When the time of departure came, and Dietrich called for his steed, Dietlieb was forced to confess what he had done. The story came to Ermenrich's ears, and he felt called upon to pay the required sum to release his guest's weapons and steeds, but contemptuously inquired whether Dietlieb were good at anything besides eating and drinking, wherein he evidently excelled. Enraged by this taunt, Dietlieb challenged Ermenrich's champion warrior, Walther von Wasgenstein (Vosges), and beat him at spear and stone throwing. He next performed feats hitherto unheard of, and won such applause that Ermenrich not only paid all his debts, but also gave him a large sum of money, which this promising young spendthrift immediately expended in feasting all the men at arms.
Dietlieb's jests and jollity so amused Isung, the imperial minstrel, that he left court to follow him to the land of the Huns, where the fickle youth next offered his services to Etzel (Attila). The King of the Huns, afraid to keep such a mercurial person near him, gave him the province of Steiermark (Styria), bidding him work off all surplus energy by defending it against the numerous enemies always trying to enter his realm.
[Sidenote: The dwarf Laurin.] Some time after this, Dietlieb returned to his old master in sorrow, for his only sister, Kunhild (Similde, or Similt), had been carried away by Laurin (Alberich), king of the dwarfs, and was now detained prisoner in the Tyrolean mountains, not far from the vaunted Rose Garden. This place was surrounded by a silken thread, and guarded most jealously by Laurin himself, who exacted the left foot and right hand of any knight venturing to enter his garden or break off a single flower from its stem.
As soon as Dietrich heard this, he promised to set out and rescue the fair Kunhild. He was accompanied by Dietlieb, Hildebrand, Wittich, and Wolfhart; and as they came to the Rose Garden, all the heroes except Dietrich and Hildebrand began to trample the dainty blossoms, and tried to break the silken cord.
"Wittich, the mighty champion, trod the roses to the ground,Broke down the gates, and ravaged the garden far renowned;Gone was the portals' splendor, by the heroes bold destroyed;The fragrance of the flowers was past, and all the garden's pride."Heldenbuch(Weber'str.).
While they were thus employed, the dwarf Laurin donned his glittering girdle of power, which gave him the strength of twelve men, brandished a sword which had been tempered in dragons' blood and could therefore cut through iron and stone, and put on his ring of victory and the magic cap of darkness, Tarnkappe (Helkappe).
Dietrich, carefully instructed by Hildebrand, struck off this cap, and appropriated it, as well as the girdles of strength and the ring of victory. He was so angry against Laurin for resisting him that the dwarf king soon fled to Dietlieb for protection, promising to restore Kunhild, unless she preferred to remain with him as his wife.
This amicable agreement having been made, Laurin led the knights down into his subterranean palace, which was illuminated by carbuncles, diamonds, and other precious stones. Here Kunhild and her attendant maidens, attired with the utmost magnificence, welcomed them hospitably and presided at the banquet.
"Similt into the palace came, with her little maidens all;Garments they wore which glittered brightly in the hall,Of fur and costly ciclatoun, and brooches of the gold;No richer guise in royal courts might mortal man behold."Heldentuch(Weber's tr.).
The wines, however, were drugged, so the brave knights soon sank into a stupor; and Laurin, taking a base advantage of their helplessness, deprived them of their weapons, bound them fast, and had them conveyed into a large prison. Dietlieb was placed in a chamber apart, where, as soon as he recovered his senses, Laurin told him that he and his companions were doomed to die on the morrow.
At midnight Dietrich awoke. Feeling himself bound, his wrath burned hot within him, and his breath grew so fiery that it consumed the ropes with which he was pinioned. He then released his captive companions, and, while they were bewailing their lack of weapons, Kunhild stealthily opened the door. Noiselessly she conducted them into the great hall, bade them resume possession of their arms, and gave each a golden ring, of dwarf manufacture, to enable them to see their tiny foes, who were else invisible to all of mortal birth.
Joined by Dietlieb, who had also been liberated by Kunhild, the knights now roused Laurin and his host of giants and dwarfs, and, after an encounter such as mediaeval poets love to describe at great length, routed them completely. Laurin was made prisoner and carried in chains to Bern, where Kunhild, now full of compassion for him, prevailed upon Dietrich to set him free, provided he would forswear all his malicious propensities and spend the remainder of his life in doing good.
When this promise had been given, Laurin was set free; and after marrying Kunhild, he went to live with her in the beautiful Rose Garden and the underground palace, which peasants and simple-hearted Alpine hunters have often seen, but which the worldly wise and skeptical have always sought in vain.
[Sidenote: Rose Garden at Worms.] The mere fact of his having come off victor in one Rose Garden affair made Dietrich hail with joy the tidings brought by a wandering minstrel, that at Worms, on the Rhine, Kriemhild (Grimhild, Gutrun, etc.), the Burgundian princess, had a similar garden. This was guarded by twelve brave knights, ever ready to try their skill against an equal number of warriors, the prize of the victor being a rose garland and kisses from the owner of this charming retreat.
Eager to accept this challenge, Dietrich selected Hildebrand, Wittich, Wolfhart, and five other brave men; but as he could think of no others worthy to share in the adventure, Hildebrand suggested that Rüdiger of Bechlaren, Dietlieb of Steiermark, and his own brother, the monk Ilsan, would be only too glad to help them. This little band soon rode into Worms, where Dietrich and his men covered themselves with glory by defeating all Kriemhild's champions, and winning the rose garlands as well as the kisses.
The knights, if we are to believe the ancient poem, appreciated the latter reward highly, with the exception of the rude monk Ilsan, who, we are told, scrubbed the princess's delicate cheek with his rough beard until the blood flowed.
[Illustration: THE VICTORIOUS HUNS.—Checa.]
"And when Chrimhild, the queen, gave him kisses fifty-two,With his rough and grisly beard full sore he made her rue,That from her lovely cheek 'gan flow the rosy blood:The queen was full of sorrow, but the monk it thought him good."Heldenbuch(Weber's tr.).
Then Ilsan carried his garlands back to the monastery, where he jammed them down upon the monks' bald pates, laughing aloud when he saw them wince as the sharp thorns pierced them.
On his way home Dietrich visited Etzel, King of the Huns, and further increased his train by accepting the services of Amalung, Hornbogi's son, and of Herbrand the wide-traveled. On his arrival at Bern, he found that his father, Dietmar, was dead, and thus Dietrich became King of the Amaling land (Italy).
[Sidenote: Campaign against the Wilkina land.] Shortly after his accession to the throne, he went to help Etzel, who was warring against Osantrix, King of the Wilkina land (Norway and Sweden). With none but his own followers, Dietrich invaded the Wilkina land, and throughout that glorious campaign old Hildebrand rode ever ahead, bearing aloft his master's standard, and dealing many memorable blows.
In one encounter, Wittich was thrown from his horse and stunned. Heime, who had joined the army, seeing him apparently lifeless, snatched the sword Mimung out of his nerveless grasp and bore it triumphantly away. Wittich, however, was not dead, but was soon after made prisoner by Hertnit, Earl of Greece, Osantrix's brother, who carried him back to the capital, where he put him in prison.
When the campaign against the Wilkina men was ended, Dietrich and his army returned to Bern, leaving Wildeber in Hungary to ascertain whether Wittich were really dead, or whether he still required his companions' aid.
Wishing to penetrate unrecognized into the enemy's camp, Wildeber slew and flayed a bear, donned its skin over his armor, and, imitating the uncouth antics of the animal he personated, bade the minstrel Isung lead him thus disguised to Hertnit's court.
[Sidenote: Wittich rescued by Wildeber.] This plan was carried out, and the minstrel and dancing bear were hailed with joy. But Isung was greatly dismayed when Hertnit insisted upon baiting his hunting hounds against the bear; who, however, strangled them all, one after another, without seeming to feel their sharp teeth. Hertnit was furious at the loss of all his pack, and sprang down into the pit with drawn sword; but all his blows glanced aside on the armor concealed beneath the rough pelt. Suddenly the pretended bear stood up, caught the weapon which the king had dropped, and struck off his head. Then, joining Isung, he rushed through the palace and delivered the captive Wittich; whereupon, seizing swords and steeds on their way, they all three rode out of the city before they could be stopped.
When they arrived in Bern they were warmly welcomed by Dietrich, who forced Heime to give the stolen Mimung back to its rightful owner. The brave warriors were not long allowed to remain inactive, however, for they were soon asked to help Ermenrich against his revolted vassal, Rimstein. They besieged the recalcitrant knight in his stronghold of Gerimsburg, which was given to Walther von Wasgenstein, while Wittich was rewarded for his services by the hand of Bolfriana, the Lady of Drachenfels, and thus became the vassal of Ermenrich.
[Sidenote: Sibich.] The estates of Ermenrich were so extensive and so difficult to govern that he was very glad indeed to secure as prime minister a capable nobleman by the name of Sibich. Unfortunately, this Sibich had a remarkably beautiful wife, whom the emperor once insulted during her husband's absence. As soon as Sibich returned from his journey his wife told him all that had occurred, and the emperor's conduct so enraged the minister that he vowed that he would take a terrible revenge.
The better to accomplish his purpose, Sibich concealed his resentment, and so artfully poisoned Ermenrich's mind that the latter ordered his eldest son to be slain. To get rid of the second prince, Sibich induced him to enter a leaky vessel, which sank as soon as he was out at sea. Then, when the prime minister saw the third son, Randwer, paying innocent attentions to his fair young stepmother, Swanhild, daughter of Siegfried and Kriemhild, he so maliciously distorted the affair that Ermenrich ordered this son to be hung, and his young wife to be trampled to death under the hoofs of wild horses.
Sibich, the traitor, having thus deprived the emperor of wife and children, next resolved to rob him of all his kin, so that he might eventually murder him and take undisputed possession of the empire. With this purpose in view, he forged letters which incited the emperor to war against his nephews, the Harlungs. These two young men, who were orphans, dwelt at Breisach, under the guardianship of their tutor, the faithful Eckhardt. They were both cruelly slain, and the disconsolate tutor fled to the court of Dietrich, little thinking that Ermenrich would soon turn upon this his last male relative, also.
[Sidenote: Herbart and Hilde.] Dietrich, forsaken by Virginal, and anxious to marry again, had, in the mean while, sent his nephew Herbart to Arthur's court in the Bertanga land (Britain), to sue for the hand of Hilde, his fair young daughter. But Arthur, averse to sending his child so far away, would not at first permit the young ambassador to catch a glimpse of her face, and sent her to church guarded by ten warriors, ten monks, and ten duennas.
In spite of all these safeguards, Herbart succeeded in seeing the princess, and after ascertaining that she was very beautiful, he secured a private interview, and told her of his master's wish to call her wife. Hilde, wishing to know what kind of a man her suitor was, begged Herbart to draw his portrait; but finding him unprepossessing, she encouraged Herbart to declare his own love, and soon eloped with him.
[Sidenote: Dietrich in exile.] Dietrich had no time to mourn for the loss of this expected bride, however, for the imperial army suddenly marched into the Amaling land, and invested the cities of Garden, Milan, Raben (Ravenna), and Mantua. Of course these successes were owing to treachery, and not to valor, and Dietrich, to obtain the release of Hildebrand and a few other faithful followers, who had fallen into the enemy's hands, was forced to surrender Bern and go off into exile.
As he had thus sacrificed his kingdom to obtain their freedom, it is no wonder that these men proudly accompanied him into banishment. They went to Susat, where they were warmly welcomed by Etzel and Helche (Herka), his wife, who promised to care for Diether, Dietrich's brother, and have him brought up with her own sons.
There were in those days many foreigners at Etzel's court, for he hadsecured as hostages Hagen of Tronje, from the Burgundians; the PrincessHildegunde, from the Franks; and Walther von Wasgenstein from the Duke ofAquitaine.
[Sidenote: Walther of Aquitaine and Hildegunde.] During the twenty years which Dietrich now spent in the land of the Huns fighting for Etzel, peace was concluded with Burgundy and Hagen was allowed to return home. Walther of Aquitaine (or von Wasgenstein), whose adventures are related in a Latin poem of the eighth or ninth century, had fallen in love with Hildegunde. Seeing that Etzel, in spite of his promises to set them both free, had no real intention of doing so, he and his ladylove cleverly effected their escape, and fled to the Wasgenstein (Vosges), where they paused in a cave to recruit their exhausted strength. Gunther, King of Burgundy, and Hagen of Tronje, his ally, hearing that Walther and Hildegunde were in the neighborhood, and desirous of obtaining the large sum of gold which they had carried away from Etzel's court, set out to attack them, with a force of twelve picked men. But Hildegunde was watching while Walther slept, and, seeing them draw near, warned her lover. He, inspired by her presence, slew all except Gunther and Hagen, who beat a hasty retreat.
They did not return to Worms, however, but lay in ambush beside the road, and when Walther and Hildegunde passed by they attacked the former with great fury. In spite of the odds against him, the poem relates that Walther triumphantly defeated them both, putting out one of Hagen's eyes and cutting off one of Gunther's hands and one of his feet.
The conflict ended, Hildegunde bound up the wounds of all three of the combatants, who then sat down to share a meal together, indulged in much jocularity about their wounds, and, parting amicably, sought their respective homes. Walther and Hildegunde were next joyously welcomed by their relatives, duly married, and reigned together over Aquitaine for many a long year.
In the mean while Dietrich had been engaged in warring against Waldemar, King of Reussen (Russia and Poland), in behalf of Etzel, who, however, forsook him in a cowardly way, and left him in a besieged fortress, in the midst of the enemy's land, with only a handful of men. In spite of all his courage, Dietrich would have been forced to surrender had not Rüdiger of Bechlaren come to his rescue. By their combined efforts, Waldemar was slain, and his son was brought captive to Susat.
[Sidenote: Dietrich and Queen Helche.] Dietrich and his noble prisoner were both seriously wounded; but while Queen Helche herself tenderly cared for the young prince of Reussen, who was her kinsman, Dietrich lay neglected and alone in a remote part of the palace. The young prince was no sooner cured, however, than he took advantage of Etzel's absence to escape, although Helche implored him not to do so, and assured him that she would have to pay for his absence with her life.
In her distress Helche now thought of Dietrich, who, weak and wounded, rose from his couch, pursued the fugitive, overtook and slew him, and brought his head back to her. The Queen of the Huns never forgot that she owed her life to Dietrich, and ever after showed herself his faithful friend.
Twenty years had passed since Dietrich left his native land ere he asked to return. Helche promised him the aid of her sons, Erp and Ortwine, whom she armed herself, and furnished one thousand men. Etzel, seeing this, also offered his aid, and Dietrich marched back to the Amaling land with all his companions, and with an army commanded by the two Hun princes and Rüdiger's only son, Nudung.
The van of the army took Garden and Padauwe (Padua), and with Dietrich at its head made a triumphant entrance into Bern. But, hearing that Ermenrich was coming against him, Dietrich now went to meet him, and fought a terrible battle near Raben in 493. The hero of Bern distinguished himself, as usual, in this fray, until, hearing that Nudung, the two Hun princes, and his young brother, Diether, had all been slain, he became almost insane with grief.
In his fury he wildly pursued Wittich, his former servant and Diether's murderer, and would have slain him had the latter not saved himself by plunging into the sea. Here his ancestress, the swan maiden Wachilde, took charge of him, and conveyed him to a place of safety. Then, although victorious, Dietrich discovered that he had no longer enough men left to maintain himself in his reconquered kingdom, and mournfully returned to Susat with the bodies of the slain.
[Sidenote: Marriage of Dietrich and Herrat.] It was during his second sojourn at the court of the Huns that Dietrich married Herrat (Herand), Princess of Transylvania, a relative of Helche. The latter died soon after their union. Three years later Etzel married Kriemhild, Siegfried's widow; and now occurred the fall of the brave Nibelung knights, recorded in the "Nibelungenlied." Dietrich, as we have seen, took an active part in the closing act of this tragedy, and joined in the final lament over the bodies of the slain.
Ten years after the terrible battle of Raben, Dietrich again resolved to make an attempt to recover his kingdom, and set out with only a very few followers. As Ermenrich had succumbed, either under the swords of Swanhild's brothers, as already related, or by the poison secretly administered by the traitor Sibich, the crown was now offered to Dietrich, who was glad to accept it.
All the lost cities were gradually recovered, and Hildebrand, coming to Garden, encountered his son Hadubrand (Alebrand), who, having grown up during his absence, did not recognize him, and challenged him to fight. Mighty blows were exchanged between father and son, each of whom, in the pauses of the combat, anxiously besought the other to reveal his name. It was only when their strength was exhausted that Hadubrand revealed who he was, and father and son, dropping their bloody swords, embraced with tears.
"So spake Hadubrand,Son of Hildebrand:'Said unto meSome of our people,Shrewd and old,Gone hence already,That Hildebrand was my father called,—I am called Hadubrand.Erewhile he eastward went,Escaping from Odoaker,Thither with TheodoricAnd his many men of battle,Here he left in the land,Lorn and lonely,Bride in bower,Bairn ungrown,Having no heritage.'"Song of Hildebrand(Bayard Taylor's tr.).
Hildebrand then rejoined his wife, Ute, and Dietrich, having slain the traitor Sibich, who had made an attempt to usurp the throne, marched on to Romaburg (Rome), where he was crowned Emperor of the West, under the name of Theodoric. Some time after his accession, Dietrich lost his good wife Herrat, whom, according to some accounts, he mourned as long as he lived. According to others he married again, taking as wife Liebgart, widow of Ortnit.
Etzel, according to this version, having been lured by Aldrian, Hagen's son, into the cave where the Nibelungen hoard was kept, was locked up there, and died of hunger while contemplating the gold he coveted. His estates then became the property of Dietrich, who thus became undisputed ruler of nearly all the southern part of Europe.
[Sidenote: Dietrich and the coal-black steed.] In his old age Dietrich, weary of life and imbittered by its many trials, ceased to take pleasure in anything except the chase. One day, while he was bathing in a limpid stream, his servant came to tell him that there was a fine stag in sight. Dietrich immediately called for his horse, and as it was not instantly forthcoming, he sprang upon a coal-black steed standing near, and was borne rapidly away.
The servant rode after as fast as possible, but could never overtakeDietrich, who, the peasants aver, was spirited away, and now leads the WildHunt upon the same sable steed, which he is doomed to ride until thejudgment day.
In spite of this fabulous account, however, the tomb of Theodoric is still to be seen near Verona, but history demonstrates the impossibility of the story of Dietrich von Bern, by proving that Theodoric was not born until after the death of Attila, the unmistakeable original of the Etzel in the "Heldenbuch."
[Illustration: THE TOMB OF THEODORIC.]
One of the favorite heroes of early mediaeval literature is Charlemagne, whose name is connected with countless romantic legends of more or less antique origin. The son of Pepin and Bertha the "large footed," this monarch took up his abode near the Rhine to repress the invasions of the northern barbarians, awe them into submission, and gradually induce them to accept the teachings of the missionaries he sent to convert them.
[Sidenote: The champion of Christianity.] As Charlemagne destroyed the Irminsul, razed heathen temples and groves, abolished the Odinic and Druidic forms of worship, conquered the Lombards at the request of the Pope, and defeated the Saracens in Spain, he naturally became the champion of Christianity in the chronicles of his day. All the heroic actions of his predecessors (such as Charles Martel) were soon attributed to him, and when these legends were turned into popular epics, in the tenth and eleventh centuries, he became the principal hero of France. The great deeds of his paladins, Roland, Oliver, Ogier the Dane, Renaud de Montauban, and others, also became the favorite theme of the poets, and were soon translated into every European tongue.
The Latin chronicle, falsely attributed to Bishop Turpin, Charlemagne's prime minister, but dating from 1095, is one of the oldest versions of Charlemagne's fabulous adventures now extant. It contains the mythical account of the battle of Roncesvalles (Vale of Thorns), told with infinite repetition and detail so as to give it an appearance of reality.
[Sidenote: Chanson de Roland.] Einhard, the son-in-law and historian of Charlemagne, records a partial defeat in the Pyrenees in 777-778, and adds that Hroudlandus was slain. From this bald statement arose the mediaeval "Chanson de Roland," which was still sung at the battle of Hastings. The probable author of the French metrical version is Turoldus; but the poem, numbering originally four thousand lines, has gradually been lengthened, until now it includes more than forty thousand. There are early French, Latin, German, Italian, English, and Icelandic versions of the adventures of Roland, which in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries were turned into prose, and formed the basis of the "Romans de Chevalerie," which were popular for so many years. Numerous variations can, of course, be noted in these tales, which have been worked over again by the Italian poets Ariosto and Boiardo, and even treated by Buchanan in our day.
It would be impossible to give in this work a complete synopsis of all thechansons de gestesreferring to Charlemagne and his paladins, so we will content ourselves with giving an abstract of the most noted ones and telling the legends which are found in them, which have gradually been woven around those famous names and connected with certain localities.
[Sidenote: Charlemagne and the heavenly message.] We are told that Charlemagne, having built a beautiful new palace for his use, overlooking the Rhine, was roused from his sleep during the first night he spent there by the touch of an angelic hand, and, to his utter surprise, thrice heard the heavenly messenger bid him go forth and steal. Not daring to disobey, Charlemagne stole unnoticed out of the palace, saddled his steed, and, armed cap-a-pie, started out to fulfill the angelic command.
He had not gone far when he met an unknown knight, evidently bound on the same errand. To challenge, lay his lance in rest, charge, and unhorse his opponent, was an easy matter for Charlemagne. When he learned that he had disarmed Elbegast (Alberich), the notorious highwayman, he promised to let him go free if he would only help him steal something that night.
Guided by Elbegast, Charlemagne, still incognito, went to the castle of one of his ministers, and, thanks to Elbegast's cunning, penetrated unseen into his bedroom. There, crouching in the dark, Charlemagne overheard him confide to his wife a plot to murder the emperor on the morrow. Patiently biding his time until they were sound asleep, Charlemagne picked up a worthless trifle, and noiselessly made his way out, returning home unseen. On the morrow, profiting by the knowledge thus obtained, he cleverly outwitted the conspirators, whom he restored to favor only after they had solemnly sworn future loyalty. As for Elbegast, he so admired the only man who had ever succeeded in conquering him that he renounced his dishonest profession to enter the emperor's service.
In gratitude for the heavenly vision vouchsafed him, the emperor named his new palace Ingelheim (Home of the Angel), a name which the place has borne ever since. This thieving episode is often alluded to in the later romances of chivalry, where knights, called upon to justify their unlawful appropriation of another's goods, disrespectfully remind the emperor that he too once went about as a thief.
[Sidenote: Frastrada's magic ring.] When Charlemagne's third wife died, he married a beautiful Eastern princess by the name of Frastrada, who, aided by a magic ring, soon won his most devoted affection. The new queen, however, did not long enjoy her power, for a dangerous illness overtook her. When at the point of death, fearful lest her ring should be worn by another while she was buried and forgotten, Frastrada slipped the magic circlet into her mouth just before she breathed her last.
Solemn preparations were made to bury her in the cathedral of Mayence (where a stone bearing her name could still be seen a few years ago), but the emperor refused to part with the beloved body. Neglectful of all matters of state, he remained in the mortuary chamber day after day. His trusty adviser, Turpin, suspecting the presence of some mysterious talisman, slipped into the room while the emperor, exhausted with fasting and weeping, was wrapped in sleep. After carefully searching for the magic jewel, Turpin discovered it, at last, in the dead queen's mouth.
"He searches with care, though with tremulous haste,For the spell that bewitches the king;And under her tongue, for security placed,Its margin with mystical characters traced,At length he discovers a ring."SOUTHEY,King Charlemain.
[Sidenote: Turpin and the magic ring.] To secure this ring and slip it on his finger was but the affair of a moment; but just as Turpin was about to leave the room the emperor awoke. With a shuddering glance at the dead queen, Charlemagne flung himself passionately upon the neck of his prime minister, declaring that he would never be quite inconsolable as long as he was near.
Taking advantage of the power thus secured by the possession of the magic ring, Turpin led Charlemagne away, forced him to eat and drink, and after the funeral induced him to resume the reins of the government. But he soon wearied of his master's constant protestations of undying affection, and ardently longed to get rid of the ring, which, however, he dared neither to hide nor to give away, for fear it should fall into unscrupulous hands.
Although advanced in years, Turpin was now forced to accompany Charlemagne everywhere, even on his hunting expeditions, and to share his tent. One moonlight night the unhappy minister stole noiselessly out of the imperial tent, and wandered alone in the woods, cogitating how to dispose of the unlucky ring. As he walked thus he came to a glade in the forest, and saw a deep pool, on whose mirrorlike surface the moonbeams softly played. Suddenly the thought struck him that the waters would soon close over and conceal the magic ring forever in their depths; and, drawing it from his finger, he threw it into the pond. Turpin then retraced his steps, and soon fell asleep. On the morrow he was delighted to perceive that the spell was broken, and that Charlemagne had returned to the old undemonstrative friendship which had bound them for many a year.
"Overjoy'd, the good prelate remember'd the spell,And far in the lake flung the ring;The waters closed round it; and, wondrous to tell,Released from the cursed enchantment of hell,His reason return'd to the king."SOUTHEY,King Charlemain.
Charlemagne, however, seemed unusually restless, and soon went out to hunt. In the course of the day, having lost sight of his suite in the pursuit of game, he came to the little glade, where, dismounting, he threw himself on the grass beside the pool, declaring that he would fain linger there forever. The spot was so charming that he even gave orders, ere he left it that night, that a palace should be erected there for his use; and this building was the nucleus of his favorite capital, Aix-la-Chapelle (Aachen).
"But he built him a palace there close by the bay,And there did he love to remain;And the traveler who will, may behold at this dayA monument still in the ruins at AixOf the spell that possess'd Charlemain."SOUTHEY,King Charlemain.
According to tradition, Charlemagne had a sister by the name of Bertha, who, against his will, married the brave young knight Milon. Rejected by the emperor, and therefore scorned by all, the young couple lived in obscurity and poverty. They were very happy, however, for they loved each other dearly, and rejoiced in the beauty of their infant son Roland, who even in babyhood showed signs of uncommon courage and vigor.
[Sidenote: Charlemagne and the boy Roland.] One version of the story relates, however, that Milon perished in a flood, and that Bertha was almost dying of hunger while her brother, a short distance away, was entertaining all his courtiers at his board. Little Roland, touched by his mother's condition, walked fearlessly into the banquet hall, boldly advanced to the table, and carried away a dishful of meat. As the emperor seemed amused at the little lad's fearlessness, the servants did not dare to interfere, and Roland bore off the dish in triumph.
A few minutes later he reentered the hall, and with equal coolness laid hands upon the emperor's cup, full of rich wine. Challenged by Charlemagne, the child then boldly declared that he wanted the meat and wine for his mother, a lady of high degree. In answer to the emperor's bantering questions, he declared that he was his mother's cupbearer, her page, and her gallant knight, which answers so amused Charlemagne that he sent for her. He then remorsefully recognized her, treated her with kindness as long as she lived, and took her son into his own service.
Another legend relates that Charlemagne, hearing that the robber knight of the Ardennes had a priceless jewel set in his shield, called all his bravest noblemen together, and bade them sally forth separately, with only a page as escort, in quest of the knight. Once found, they were to challenge him in true knightly fashion, and at the point of the lance win the jewel he wore. A day was appointed when, successful or not, the courtiers were to return, and, beginning with the lowest in rank, were to give a truthful account of their adventures while on the quest.
All the knights departed and scoured the forest of the Ardennes, each hoping to meet the robber knight and win the jewel. Among them was Milon, accompanied by his son Roland, a lad of fifteen, whom he had taken as page and armor-bearer. Milon had spent many days in vain search for the knight, when, exhausted by his long ride, he dismounted, removed his heavy armor, and lay down under a tree to sleep, bidding Roland keep close watch during his slumbers.
[Sidenote: Roland and the jewel.] Roland watched faithfully for a while; then, fired by a desire to distinguish himself, he donned his father's armor, sprang on his steed, and rode into the forest in search of adventures. He had not gone very far when he saw a gigantic horseman coming to meet him, and, by the dazzling glitter of a large stone set in his shield, he recognized in him the invincible knight of the Ardennes. Afraid of nothing, however, the lad laid his lance in rest when challenged to fight, and charged so bravely that he unhorsed the knight. A fearful battle on foot ensued, where many gallant blows were given and received; yet the victory finally remained with Roland. He slew his adversary, and wrenching the jewel from his shield, hid it in his breast. Then, riding rapidly back to his sleeping father, Roland laid aside the armor, and removed all traces of a bloody encounter. When Milon awoke he resumed the quest, and soon came upon the body of the dead knight. When he saw that another had won the jewel, he was disappointed indeed, and sadly rode back to court, to be present on the appointed day.
Charlemagne, seated on his throne, bade the knights appear before him, and relate their adventures. One after another strode up the hall, followed by an armor-bearer holding his shield, and all told of finding the knight slain and the jewel gone, and produced head, hands, feet, or some part of his armor, in token of the truth of their story. Last of all came Milon, with lowering brows, although Roland walked close behind him, proudly holding his shield, in the center of which the jewel shone radiant. Milon related his search, and reported that he too had found the giant knight slain and the jewel gone. A shout of incredulity made him turn his head. But when he saw the jewel blazing on his shield he appeared so amazed that Charlemagne questioned Roland, and soon learned how it had been obtained. In reward for his bravery in this encounter, Roland was knighted and allowed to take his place among his uncle's paladins, of which he soon became the most renowned.
Charlemagne, according to the oldchanson de gesteentitled "Ogier le Danois," made war against the King of Denmark, defeated him, and received his son Ogier (Olger or Holger Danske) as hostage. The young Danish prince was favored by the fairies from the time of his birth, six of them having appeared to bring him gifts while he was in his cradle. The first five promised him every earthly bliss; while the sixth, Morgana, foretold that he would never die, but would dwell with her in Avalon.
[Sidenote: Ogier king of Denmark.] Ogier the Dane, owing to a violation of the treaty on his father's part, was soon confined in the prison of St. Omer. There he beguiled the weariness of captivity by falling in love with, and secretly marrying, the governor's daughter Bellissande. Charlemagne, being about to depart for war, and wishing for the hero's help, released him from captivity; and when Ogier returned again to France he heard that Bellissande had borne him a son, and that, his father having died, he was now the lawful king of Denmark.
Ogier the Dane then obtained permission to return to his native land, where he spent several years, reigning so wisely that he was adored by all his subjects. Such is the admiration of the Danes for this hero that the common people still declare that he is either in Avalon, or sleeping in the vaults of Elsinore, and that he will awaken, like Frederick Barbarossa, to save his country in the time of its direst need.
"'Thou know'st it, peasant! I am not dead;I come back to thee in my glory.I am thy faithful helper in need,As in Denmark's ancient story.'"INGEMANN,Holder Danske.
After some years spent in Denmark, Ogier returned to France, where his son, now grown up, had a dispute with Prince Chariot [Ogier and Charlemagne.] over a game of chess. The dispute became so bitter that the prince used the chessboard as weapon, and killed his antagonist with it. Ogier, indignant at the murder, and unable to find redress at the hands of Charlemagne, insulted him grossly, and fled to Didier (Desiderius), King of Lombardy, with whom the Franks were then at feud.
Several ancient poems represent Didier on his tower, anxiously watching the approach of the enemy, and questioning his guest as to the personal appearance of Charlemagne. These poems have been imitated by Longfellow in one of his "Tales of a Wayside Inn."
"Olger the Dane, and Desiderio,King of the Lombards, on a lofty towerStood gazing northward o'er the rolling plains,League after league of harvests, to the footOf the snow-crested Alps, and saw approachA mighty army, thronging all the roadsThat led into the city. And the KingSaid unto Olger, who had passed his youthAs hostage at the court of France, and knewThe Emperor's form and face, 'Is CharlemagneAmong that host?' And Olger answered, 'No.'"LONGFELLOW,Tales of a Wayside Inn.
This poet, who has made this part of the legend familiar to all English readers, then describes the vanguard of the army, the paladins, the clergy, all in full panoply, and the gradually increasing terror of the Lombard king, who, long before the emperor's approach, would fain have hidden himself underground. Finally Charlemagne appears in iron mail, brandishing aloft his invincible sword "Joyeuse," and escorted by the main body of his army, grim fighting men, at the mere sight of whom even Ogier the Dane is struck with fear.
"This at a single glance Olger the DaneSaw from the tower; and, turning to the King,Exclaimed in haste: 'Behold! this is the manYou looked for with such eagerness!' and thenFell as one dead at Desiderio's feet."LONGFELLOW,Tales of a Wayside Inn.
Charlemagne soon overpowered the Lombard king, and assumed the iron crown, while Ogier escaped from the castle in which he was besieged. Shortly after, however, when asleep near a fountain, the Danish hero was surprised by Turpin. When led before Charlemagne, he obstinately refused all proffers of reconciliation, and insisted upon Charlot's death, until an angel from heaven forbade his asking the life of Charlemagne's son. Then, foregoing his revenge and fully reinstated in the royal good graces, Ogier, according to a thirteenth-century epic by Adenet, successfully encountered a Saracenic giant, and in reward for his services received the hand of Clarice, Princess of England, and became king of that realm.
[Sidenote: Ogier in the East.] Weary of a peaceful existence, Ogier finally left England, and journeyed to the East, where he successfully besieged Acre, Babylon and Jerusalem. On his way back to France, the ship was attracted by the famous lodestone rock which appears in many mediaeval romances, and, all his companions having perished, Ogier wandered alone ashore. There he came to an adamantine castle, invisible by day, but radiant at night, where he was received by the famous horse Papillon, and sumptuously entertained. On the morrow, while wandering across a flowery meadow, Ogier encountered Morgana the fay, who gave him a magic ring. Although Ogier was then a hundred years old, he no sooner put it on than he became young once more. Then, having donned the golden crown of oblivion, he forgot his home, and joined Arthur, Oberon, Tristan, and Lancelot, with whom he spent two hundred years in unchanged youth, enjoying constant jousting and fighting.
At the end of that time, his crown having accidentally dropped off, Ogier remembered the past, and returned to France, riding on Papillon. He reached the court during the reign of one of the Capetian kings. He was, of course, greatly amazed at the changes which had taken place, but bravely helped to defend Paris against an invasion from the Normans.
[Sidenote: Ogier carried to Avalon.] Shortly after this, his magic ring was playfully drawn from his finger and put upon her own by the Countess of Senlis, who, seeing that it restored her vanished youth, would fain have kept it always. She therefore sent thirty champions to wrest it from Ogier, who, however, defeated them all, and triumphantly retained his ring. The king having died, Ogier next married the widowed queen, and would thus have become King of France had not Morgana the fay, jealous of his affections, spirited him away in the midst of the marriage ceremony and borne him off to the Isle of Avalon, whence he, like Arthur, will return only when his country needs him.
[Sidenote: Roland and Oliver.] Anotherchanson de geste, a sort of continuation of "Ogier le Danois," is called "Meurvin," and purports to give a faithful account of the adventures of a son of Ogier and Morgana, an ancestor of Godfrey of Bouillon, King of Jerusalem. In "Guerin de Montglave," we find that Charlemagne, having quarreled with the Duke of Genoa, proposed that each should send a champion to fight in his name. Charlemagne selected Roland, while the Duke of Genoa chose Oliver as his defender. The battle, if we are to believe some versions of the legend, took place on an island in the Rhone, and Durandana, Roland's sword, struck many a spark from Altecler (Hautecler), the blade of Oliver. The two champions were so well matched, and the blows were dealt with such equal strength and courage, that "giving a Roland for an Oliver" has become a proverbial expression.
After fighting all day, with intermissions to interchange boasts and taunts, and to indulge in sundry discussions, neither had gained any advantage. They would probably have continued the struggle indefinitely, however, had not an angel of the Lord interfered, and bidden them embrace and become fast friends. It was on this occasion, we are told, that Charlemagne, fearing for Roland when he saw the strength of Oliver, vowed a pilgrimage to Jerusalem should his nephew escape alive.
[Sidenote: Charlemagne's pilgrimage to Jerusalem.] The fulfillment of this vow is described in "Galyen Rhetoré." Charlemagne and his peers reached Jerusalem safely in disguise, but their anxiety to secure relics soon betrayed their identity. The King of Jerusalem, Hugues, entertained them sumptuously, and, hoping to hear many praises of his hospitality, concealed himself in their apartment at night. The eavesdropper, however, only heard the vain talk of Charlemagne's peers, who, unable to sleep, beguiled the hours in making extraordinary boasts. Roland declared that he could blow his horn Olivant loud enough to bring down the palace; Ogier, that he could crumble the principal pillar to dust in his grasp; and Oliver, that he could marry the princess in spite of her father.
The king, angry at hearing no praises of his wealth and hospitality, insisted upon his guests fulfilling their boasts on the morrow, under penalty of death. He was satisfied, however, by the success of Oliver's undertaking, and the peers returned to France. Galyen, Oliver's son by Hugues's daughter, followed them thither when he reached manhood, and joined his father in the valley of Roncesvalles, just in time to receive his blessing ere he died. Then, having helped Charlemagne to avenge his peers, Galyen returned to Jerusalem, where he found his grandfather dead and his mother a captive. His first act was, of course, to free his mother, after which he became king of Jerusalem, and his adventures came to an end.
The "Chronicle" of Turpin, whence the materials for many of the poems about Roland were taken, declares that Charlemagne, having conquered nearly the whole of Europe, retired to his palace to seek repose. But one evening, while gazing at the stars, he saw a bright cluster move from the "Friesian sea, by way of Germany and France, into Galicia." This prodigy, twice repeated, greatly excited Charlemagne's wonder, and was explained to him by St. James in a vision. The latter declared that the progress of the stars was emblematic of the advance of the Christian army towards Spain, and twice bade the emperor deliver his land from the hands of the Saracens.
[Sidenote: Charlemagne in Spain.] Thus admonished, Charlemagne set out for Spain with a large army, and invested the city of Pamplona, which showed no signs of surrender at the end of a two months' siege. Recourse to prayer on the Christians' part, however, produced a great miracle, for the walls tottered and fell like those of Jericho. All the Saracens who embraced Christianity were spared, but the remainder were slain before the emperor journeyed to the shrine of St. James at Santiago de Compostela to pay his devotions.
A triumphant march through the country then ensued, and Charlemagne returned to France, thinking the Saracens subdued. He had scarcely crossed the border, however, when Aigolandus, one of the pagan monarchs, revolted, and soon recovered nearly all the territory his people had lost. When Charlemagne heard these tidings, he sent back an army, commanded by Milon, Roland's father, who perished gloriously in this campaign. The emperor speedily followed his brother-in-law with great forces, and again besieged Aigolandus in Pamplona. During the course of the siege the two rulers had an interview, which is described at length, and indulged in sundry religious discussions, which, however, culminated in a resumption of hostilities. Several combats now took place, in which the various heroes greatly distinguished themselves, the preference being generally given to Roland, who, if we are to believe the Italian poet, was as terrible in battle as he was gentle in time of peace.
"On stubborn foes he vengeance wreak'd,And laid about him like a Tartar;But if for mercy once they squeak'd,He was the first to grant them quarter.The battle won, of Roland's soulEach milder virtue took possession;To vanquished foes he o'er a bowlHis heart surrender'd at discretion."ARIOSTO,Orlando Furioso(Dr. Burney's tr.).
Aigolandus being slain, and the feud against him thus successfully ended, Charlemagne carried the war into Navarre, where he was challenged by the giant Ferracute (Ferragus) to meet him in single combat. Although the metrical "Romances" describe Charlemagne as twenty feet in height, and declare that he slept in a hall, his bed surrounded by one hundred lighted tapers and one hundred knights with drawn swords, the emperor felt himself no match for the giant, whose personal appearance was as follows:—
"So hard he was to-fond [proved],That no dint of brondNo grieved him, I plight.He had twenty men's strength;And forty feet of lengthThilke [each] paynim had;And four feet in the faceY-meten [measured] on the place;And fifteen in brede [breadth].His nose was a foot and more;His brow as bristles wore;(He that saw it said)He looked lothliche [loathly],And was swart [black] as pitch;Of him men might adrede!"Roland and Ferragus.
[Sidenote: Roland and Ferracute.] After convincing himself of the danger of meeting this adversary, Charlemagne sent Ogier the Dane to fight him, and with dismay saw his champion not only unhorsed, but borne away like a parcel under the giant's arm, fuming and kicking with impotent rage. Renaud de Montauban met Ferracute on the next day, with the same fate, as did several other champions. Finally Roland took the field, and although the giant pulled him down from his horse, he continued the battle all day. Seeing that his sword Durandana had no effect upon Ferracute, Roland armed himself with a club on the morrow.
In the pauses of the battle the combatants talked together, and Ferracute, relying upon his adversary's keen sense of honor, even laid his head upon Roland's knee during their noonday rest. While resting thus, he revealed that he was vulnerable in only one point of his body. When called upon by Roland to believe in Christianity, he declared that the doctrine of the Trinity was more than he could accept. Roland, in answer, demonstrated that an almond is but one fruit, although composed of rind, shell, and kernel; that a harp is but one instrument, although it consists of wood, strings, and harmony. He also urged the threefold nature of the sun,—i.e., heat, light, and splendor; and these arguments having satisfied Ferracute concerning the Trinity, he removed his doubts concerning the incarnation by equally forcible reasoning. The giant, however, utterly refused to believe in the resurrection, although Roland, in support of his creed, quoted the mediaeval belief that a lion's cubs are born into the world dead, but come to life on the third day at the sound of their father's roar, or under the warm breath of their mother. As Ferracute would not accept this doctrine, but sprang to his feet proposing a continuation of the fight, the struggle was renewed.
"Quath Ferragus: 'Now ich wotYour Christian law every grot;Now we will fight;Whether law better be,Soon we shall y-see,Long ere it be night.'"Roland and Ferragus.
Roland, weary with his previous efforts, almost succumbed beneath the giant's blows, and in his distress had recourse to prayer. He was immediately strengthened and comforted by an angelic vision and a promise of victory. Thus encouraged, he dealt Ferracute a deadly blow in the vulnerable spot. The giant fell, calling upon Mohammed, while Roland laughed and the Christians triumphed.
The poem of Sir Otuel, in the Auchinleck manuscript, describes how Otuel, a nephew of Ferracute, his equal in size and strength, came to avenge his death, and, after a long battle with Roland, yielded to his theological arguments, and was converted at the sight of a snowy dove alighting on Charlemagne's helmet in answer to prayer. He then became a devoted adherent of Charlemagne, and served him much in war.
Charlemagne, having won Navarre, carried the war to the south of Spain, where the Saracens frightened the horses of his host by beating drums and waving banners. Having suffered a partial defeat on account of this device, Charlemagne had the horses' ears stopped with wax, and their eyes blindfolded, before he resumed the battle. Thanks to this precaution, he succeeded in conquering the Saracen army. The whole country had now been again subdued, and Charlemagne was preparing to return to France, when he remembered that Marsiglio (Marsilius), a Saracen king, was still intrenched at Saragossa.