Thirty-Seventh AdventureHow Rudeger Was SlainThe strangers did valiantly that morning. Gotelind’s husband came into the courtyard and saw the heavy loss on both sides, whereat the true man wept inly.“Woe is me,” said the knight, “that ever I was born, since none can stop this strife! Fain would I have them at one again, but the king holdeth back, for he seeth always more done to his hurt.”Good Rudeger sent to Dietrich, that they might seek to move the great king. But the knight of Bern sent back answer, “Who can hinder it? King Etzel letteth none intercede.”A knight of the Huns, that had oft seen Rudeger standing with wet eyes, said to the queen, “Look how he standeth yonder, that Etzel hath raised above all others, and that hath land and folk at his service. Why hath Rudeger so many castles from the king? He hath struck no blow in this battle. I ween he careth little for our scathe, so long as he hath enow for himself. They say he is bolder than any other. Ill hath he shown it in our need.”The faithful man, when he heard that word, looked angrily at the knight. He thought, “Thou shalt pay for this. Thou callest me a coward. Thou hast told thy tale too loud at court.”He clenched his fist, and ran at him, and smote the Hun so fiercely that he fell down at his feet, dead. Whereat Etzel’s grief waxed anew.“Away with thee, false babbler!” cried Rudeger. “I had trouble and sorrow enow. What was it to thee that I fought not? Good cause have I also to hate the strangers, and had done what I could against them, but that I brought them hither. I was their escort into my master’s land, and may not lift my wretched hand against them.”Then said Etzel, the great king, to the Margrave, “How hast thou helped us, most noble Rudeger? We had dead men enow in the land, and needed no more. Evilly hast thou done.”But the knight answered, “He angered me, and twitted me with the honour and the wealth thou hast bestowed on me so plenteously. It hath cost the liar dear.”Then came the queen, that had seen the Hun perish by Rudeger’s wrath. She mourned for him with wet eyes, and said to Rudeger, “What have we ever done to thee that thou shouldst add to our sorrow? Thou hast oft times promised, noble Rudeger, that thou wouldst risk, for our sake, both honour and life, and I have heard many warriors praise thee for thy valour. Hast thou forgotten the oath thou swearest to me with thy hand, good knight, when thou didst woo me for King Etzel—how that thou wouldst serve me till my life’s end, or till thine? Never was my need greater than now.”“It is true, noble lady. I promised to risk for thee honour and life, but I sware not to lose my soul. I brought the princes to this hightide.”She said, “Remember, Rudeger, thy faith, and thine oath to avenge all my hurt and my woe.”The Margrave answered, “I have never said thee nay.”Etzel began to entreat likewise. They fell at his feet. Sore troubled was the good Margrave. Full of grief, he cried, “Woe is me that ever I saw this hour, for God hath forsaken me. All my duty to Heaven, mine honour, my good faith, my knightliness, I must forego. God above have pity, and let me die! Whether I do this thing, or do it not, I sin. And if I take the part of neither, all the world will blame me. Let Him that made me guide me.”Still the king and his wife implored him. Whence it fell that many valiant warriors lost their lives at his hand, and the hero himself was slain. Hear ye now the tale of his sorrow. Well he knew he could win naught but teen and scathe. Fain had he denied the prayer of the king and queen. He feared, if he slew but one man, that the world would loathe him evermore.Then the bold man said to the king, “Take back what thou hast given me—castles and land. Leave me nothing at all. I will go forth afoot into exile. I will take my wife and my daughter by the hand, and I will quit thy country empty, rather than I will die dishonoured. I took thy red gold to my hurt.”King Etzel answered, “Who will help me then? Land and folk I gave to thee, Rudeger, that thou mightest avenge me on my foes. Thou shalt rule with Etzel as a great king.”But Rudeger said, “How can I do it? I bade them to my house and home; I set meat and drink before them, and gave them my gifts. Shall I also smite them dead? The folk may deem me a coward. But I have always served them well. Should I fight with them now, it were ill done. Deep must I rue past friendship. I gave my daughter to Giselher. None better in this world had she found, of so great lineage and honour, and faith, and wealth. Never saw I young king so virtuous.”But Kriemhild answered, “Most noble Rudeger, take pity on us both. Bethink thee that never host had guests like these.”Then said the Margrave, “What thou and my master have given me I must pay for, this day, with my life. I shall die, and that quickly. Well I know that, or nightfall, my lands and castles will return to your keeping. To your grace I commend my wife and my child, and the homeless ones that are at Bechlaren.”“God reward thee, Rudeger,” cried the king. He and the queen were both glad. “Thy folk shall be well seen to; but thou thyself, I trow, will come off scatheless.”So he put his soul and body on the hazard. Etzel’s wife began to weep. He said, “I must keep my vow to thee. Woe is me for my friends, that I must fall upon in mine own despite!”They saw him turn heavily from the king. To his knights that stood close by, he said, “Arm ye, my men all. For I must fight the Burgundians, to my sorrow.”The heroes called for their harness, and the attendants brought helm and buckler. Soon the proud strangers heard the sad news.Rudeger stood armed with five hundred men, and twelve knights that went with him, to win worship in the fray. They knew not that death was so near.Rudeger went forth with his helmet on; his men carried sharp swords, and, thereto, broad shields and bright. The fiddler saw this, and was dismayed. But when Giselher beheld his father-in-law with his helmet on, he weened that he meant them well. The noble king was right glad. “Well for me that I have such friends,” cried Giselher, “as these we won by the way! For my wife’s sake he will save us. By my faith, I am glad to be wed.”“Thy trust is vain,” said the fiddler. “When ever did ye see so many knights come in peace, with helmets laced on, and with swords? Rudeger cometh to serve for his castles and his lands.”Or the fiddler had made an end of speaking, Rudeger, the noble man, stood before the house. He laid his good shield before his feet. He must needs deny greeting to his friends.Then the Margrave shouted into the hall, “Stand on your defence, ye bold Nibelungs. I would have helped you, but must slay you. Once we were friends, but I cannot keep my faith.”The sore-tired men were dismayed at this word. Their comfort was gone, for he that they loved was come against them. From their foemen they had suffered enow.“God in Heaven forbid,” said Gunther the knight, “that thou shouldst be false to the friendship and the faith wherein we trusted. It cannot be.”“I cannot help it,” said Rudeger. “I must fight with you, for I have vowed it. As ye love your lives, bold warriors, ward you well. King Etzel’s wife will have it so.”“Thou turnest too late,” said the king. “God reward thee, noble Rudeger, for the truth and the love thou hast shown us, if it endure but to the end. We shall ever thank and serve thee for the rich gifts thou gavest to me and my kinsmen, when thou broughtest us with true heart into Etzel’s land: so thou let us live. Think well thereon, noble Rudeger.”“Gladly would I grant it,” said the knight. “Might I but give thee freely, as I would, with none to chide me!”“Give that no thought,” said Gernot. “Never host entreated guests so kindly as thou us; the which will advantage thee if we live.”“Would to God, noble Gernot,” cried Rudeger, “that ye were at the Rhine, and I dead with honour, since I must fight with you! Never strangers were worse entreated by friends.”“God reward thee, Sir Rudeger,” answered Gernot, “for thy rich gifts. I should rue thy death, for in thee a virtuous man would fall. Behold, good knight, the sword thou gavest, in my hand. It hath never failed me in my need. Its edge hath killed many a warrior. It is finely tempered and stark, and thereto bright and good. So goodly a gift, I ween, never knight will give more. If thou forbear not, but fall upon us, and slay any of my kinsmen here, thou shalt perish by thine own sword! Much I pity thee and thy wife.”“Would to God, Sir Gernot, thou hadst thy will, and thy friends were out of peril! To thee I would entrust wife and daughter.”Then said the youngest of fair Uta’s sons, “How canst thou do this thing, Sir Rudeger? All that came hither with me are thy friends. A vile deed is this. Thou makest thy daughter too soon a widow. If thou and thy knights defy us, ill am I apayed, that I trusted thee before all other men, when I won thy daughter for my wife.”“Forget not thy troth, noble king, if God send thee hence,” answered Rudeger. “Let not the maiden suffer for my sin. By thine own princely virtue, withdraw not thy favour from her.”“Fain would I promise it,” said Giselher the youth. “Yet if my high-born kinsmen perish here by thy hand, my love for thee and thy daughter must perish also.”“Then God have mercy!” cried the brave man; whereat he lifted his shield, and would have fallen upon the guests in Kriemhild’s hall.But Hagen called out to him from the stairhead, “Tarry awhile, noble Rudeger. Let me and my masters speak with thee yet awhile in our need. What shall it profit Etzel if we knights die in a strange land? I am in evil case,” said Hagen. “The shield that Gotelind gave me to carry, the Huns have hewn from my hand. In good faith I bore it hither. Would to God I had such a shield as thou hast, noble Rudeger! A better I would not ask for in the battle.”“I would gladly give thee my shield, durst I offer it before Kriemhild. Yet take it, Hagen, and wear it. Ha! mightest thou but win with it to Burgundy!”When they saw him give the shield so readily, there were eyes enow red with hot tears. It was the last gift that Rudeger of Bechlaren ever gave.Albeit Hagen was grim and stern, he was melted by the gift that the good knight, so nigh to his end, had given him. And many a warrior mourned with him.“Now God reward thee, noble Rudeger; there will never be thy like again for giving freely to homeless knights. May the fame of thy charity live for ever. Sad news hast thou brought me. We had trouble enow. God pity us if we must fight with friends.”The Margrave answered, “Thou grievest not more than I.”“I will requite thee for thy gift, brave Rudeger. Whatever betide thee from these knights, my hand will not touch thee—not if thou slewest every man of Burgundy.”Rudeger bowed, and thanked him. All the folk wept. Sore pity it was that none could stay the strife. The father of all virtue lay dead in Rudeger.Then Folker the fiddler went to the door and said, “Since my comrade Hagen hath sworn peace, thou shalt have it also from my hand. Well didst thou earn it when we came first into this country. Noble Margrave, be my envoy. The Margravine gave me these red bracelets to wear at the hightide. See them now, and bear witness that I did it.”“Would to God that the Margravine might give thee more! Doubt not but I shall tell my dear one, if I ever see her alive.”When he had promised that, Rudeger lifted up his shield; he waxed fierce, and tarried no longer. Like a knight he fell upon the guests. Many a swift blow he smote. Folker and Hagen stood back, for they had vowed it. But so many bold men stood by the door that Rudeger came in great scathe.Athirst for blood, Gunther and Gernot let him pass in. Certes, they were heroes. Giselher drew back sorrowing. He hoped to live yet awhile; wherefore he avoided Rudeger in the strife.Then the Margrave’s men ran at their foemen, and followed their master like good knights. They carried sharp weapons, wherewith they clove many a helmet and buckler. The weary ones answered the men of Bechlaren with swift blows that pierced deep and straight through their harness to their life’s blood. They did wonderly in the battle.All the warriors were now in the hall. Folker and Hagen fell on them, for they had sworn to spare none save the one man. Their hands struck blood from the helmets. Right grim was the clash of swords! Many a shield-plate sprang in sunder, and the precious stones were scattered among the blood. So fiercely none will fight again. The prince of Bechlaren hewed a path right and left, as one acquainted with battle. Well did Rudeger approve him that day a bold and blameless knight. Gunther and Gernot smote many heroes dead. Giselher and Dankwart laid about them, fearing naught, and sent many a man to his doom.Rudeger approved him stark enow, bold and well armed. Ha! many a knight he slew! One of the Burgundians saw this, and was wroth; whereat Rudeger’s death drew nigh.Gernot cried out to the Margrave, “Noble Rudeger; thou leavest none of my men alive. It irketh me sore; I will bear it no longer. I will turn thy gift against thee, for thou hast taken many friends from me. Come hither, thou bold man. What thou gavest me I will earn to the uttermost.”Or the Margrave had fought his way to him, bright bucklers grew dim with blood. Then, greedy of fame, the men ran at each other, and began to ward off the deadly wounds. But their swords were so sharp that nothing could withstand them. Rudeger the knight smote Gernot through his flint-hard helmet, that the blood brake out. Soon the good warrior was avenged. He swung Rudeger’s gift on high, and, albeit he was wounded to the death, he smote him through his good shield and his helmet, that Gotelind’s husband died. So rich a gift was never worse requited. So they fell in the strife—Gernot and Rudeger—slain by each other’s hand.Thereat Hagen waxed grimmer than afore. The hero of Trony said, “Great woe is ours. None can ever make good to their folk and their land the loss of these two knights. Rudeger’s men shall pay for it.” They gave no quarter. Many were struck down unwounded that had come to, but that they were drowned in the blood.“Woe is me for my brother, fallen dead! Each hour bringeth fresh dole. For my father-in-law, Rudeger, I grieve also. Twofold is my loss and my sorrow.”When Giselher saw his brother slain, they that were in the hall suffered for it. Death lagged not behind. Of the men of Bechlaren there was left not a living soul.Gunther and Giselher, and eke Hagen, Dankwart and Folker, the good knights, went where the two warriors lay, and there the heroes wept piteously.“Death hath despoiled us sore,” said Giselher the youth. “Stop your weeping, and go out to the air, that we strife-weary ones may cool our harness. God will not let us live longer, I ween.”They that were without saw them sitting, or leaning and taking their rest. Rudeger’s men were all slain; the din was hushed. The silence endured so long that Etzel was angered, and the king’s wife cried, “Woe is me for this treason. They speak too long. The bodies of our foemen are left unscathed by Rudeger’s hand. He plotteth to guide them back to Burgundy. What doth it profit us, King Etzel, that we have shared all our wealth with him? The knight hath done falsely. He that should have avenged us cometh to terms with them.”But Folker, the valiant warrior, answered her, “Alack! it is not so, noble queen. If I might give the lie to one so high-born as thou art, thou hast foully slandered Rudeger. Sorry terms have he and his knights made with us. With such good will he did the king’s bidding, that he and his men all lie dead. Look round thee for another, Kriemhild, to obey thee. Rudeger served thee till his death. If thou doubtest, thou mayest see for thyself.”To her grief they did it. They brought the mangled hero where Etzel saw him. Never were Etzel’s knights so doleful. When the dead Margrave was held up before them, none could write or tell all the bitter wailing whereby women and men alike uttered their heart’s dole. Etzel’s woe was so great that the sound of his lamentation was as a lion’s roar. Loud wept his wife. They mourned good Rudeger bitterly.
The strangers did valiantly that morning. Gotelind’s husband came into the courtyard and saw the heavy loss on both sides, whereat the true man wept inly.
“Woe is me,” said the knight, “that ever I was born, since none can stop this strife! Fain would I have them at one again, but the king holdeth back, for he seeth always more done to his hurt.”
Good Rudeger sent to Dietrich, that they might seek to move the great king. But the knight of Bern sent back answer, “Who can hinder it? King Etzel letteth none intercede.”
A knight of the Huns, that had oft seen Rudeger standing with wet eyes, said to the queen, “Look how he standeth yonder, that Etzel hath raised above all others, and that hath land and folk at his service. Why hath Rudeger so many castles from the king? He hath struck no blow in this battle. I ween he careth little for our scathe, so long as he hath enow for himself. They say he is bolder than any other. Ill hath he shown it in our need.”
The faithful man, when he heard that word, looked angrily at the knight. He thought, “Thou shalt pay for this. Thou callest me a coward. Thou hast told thy tale too loud at court.”
He clenched his fist, and ran at him, and smote the Hun so fiercely that he fell down at his feet, dead. Whereat Etzel’s grief waxed anew.
“Away with thee, false babbler!” cried Rudeger. “I had trouble and sorrow enow. What was it to thee that I fought not? Good cause have I also to hate the strangers, and had done what I could against them, but that I brought them hither. I was their escort into my master’s land, and may not lift my wretched hand against them.”
Then said Etzel, the great king, to the Margrave, “How hast thou helped us, most noble Rudeger? We had dead men enow in the land, and needed no more. Evilly hast thou done.”
But the knight answered, “He angered me, and twitted me with the honour and the wealth thou hast bestowed on me so plenteously. It hath cost the liar dear.”
Then came the queen, that had seen the Hun perish by Rudeger’s wrath. She mourned for him with wet eyes, and said to Rudeger, “What have we ever done to thee that thou shouldst add to our sorrow? Thou hast oft times promised, noble Rudeger, that thou wouldst risk, for our sake, both honour and life, and I have heard many warriors praise thee for thy valour. Hast thou forgotten the oath thou swearest to me with thy hand, good knight, when thou didst woo me for King Etzel—how that thou wouldst serve me till my life’s end, or till thine? Never was my need greater than now.”
“It is true, noble lady. I promised to risk for thee honour and life, but I sware not to lose my soul. I brought the princes to this hightide.”
She said, “Remember, Rudeger, thy faith, and thine oath to avenge all my hurt and my woe.”
The Margrave answered, “I have never said thee nay.”
Etzel began to entreat likewise. They fell at his feet. Sore troubled was the good Margrave. Full of grief, he cried, “Woe is me that ever I saw this hour, for God hath forsaken me. All my duty to Heaven, mine honour, my good faith, my knightliness, I must forego. God above have pity, and let me die! Whether I do this thing, or do it not, I sin. And if I take the part of neither, all the world will blame me. Let Him that made me guide me.”
Still the king and his wife implored him. Whence it fell that many valiant warriors lost their lives at his hand, and the hero himself was slain. Hear ye now the tale of his sorrow. Well he knew he could win naught but teen and scathe. Fain had he denied the prayer of the king and queen. He feared, if he slew but one man, that the world would loathe him evermore.
Then the bold man said to the king, “Take back what thou hast given me—castles and land. Leave me nothing at all. I will go forth afoot into exile. I will take my wife and my daughter by the hand, and I will quit thy country empty, rather than I will die dishonoured. I took thy red gold to my hurt.”
King Etzel answered, “Who will help me then? Land and folk I gave to thee, Rudeger, that thou mightest avenge me on my foes. Thou shalt rule with Etzel as a great king.”
But Rudeger said, “How can I do it? I bade them to my house and home; I set meat and drink before them, and gave them my gifts. Shall I also smite them dead? The folk may deem me a coward. But I have always served them well. Should I fight with them now, it were ill done. Deep must I rue past friendship. I gave my daughter to Giselher. None better in this world had she found, of so great lineage and honour, and faith, and wealth. Never saw I young king so virtuous.”
But Kriemhild answered, “Most noble Rudeger, take pity on us both. Bethink thee that never host had guests like these.”
Then said the Margrave, “What thou and my master have given me I must pay for, this day, with my life. I shall die, and that quickly. Well I know that, or nightfall, my lands and castles will return to your keeping. To your grace I commend my wife and my child, and the homeless ones that are at Bechlaren.”
“God reward thee, Rudeger,” cried the king. He and the queen were both glad. “Thy folk shall be well seen to; but thou thyself, I trow, will come off scatheless.”
So he put his soul and body on the hazard. Etzel’s wife began to weep. He said, “I must keep my vow to thee. Woe is me for my friends, that I must fall upon in mine own despite!”
They saw him turn heavily from the king. To his knights that stood close by, he said, “Arm ye, my men all. For I must fight the Burgundians, to my sorrow.”
The heroes called for their harness, and the attendants brought helm and buckler. Soon the proud strangers heard the sad news.
Rudeger stood armed with five hundred men, and twelve knights that went with him, to win worship in the fray. They knew not that death was so near.
Rudeger went forth with his helmet on; his men carried sharp swords, and, thereto, broad shields and bright. The fiddler saw this, and was dismayed. But when Giselher beheld his father-in-law with his helmet on, he weened that he meant them well. The noble king was right glad. “Well for me that I have such friends,” cried Giselher, “as these we won by the way! For my wife’s sake he will save us. By my faith, I am glad to be wed.”
“Thy trust is vain,” said the fiddler. “When ever did ye see so many knights come in peace, with helmets laced on, and with swords? Rudeger cometh to serve for his castles and his lands.”
Or the fiddler had made an end of speaking, Rudeger, the noble man, stood before the house. He laid his good shield before his feet. He must needs deny greeting to his friends.
Then the Margrave shouted into the hall, “Stand on your defence, ye bold Nibelungs. I would have helped you, but must slay you. Once we were friends, but I cannot keep my faith.”
The sore-tired men were dismayed at this word. Their comfort was gone, for he that they loved was come against them. From their foemen they had suffered enow.
“God in Heaven forbid,” said Gunther the knight, “that thou shouldst be false to the friendship and the faith wherein we trusted. It cannot be.”
“I cannot help it,” said Rudeger. “I must fight with you, for I have vowed it. As ye love your lives, bold warriors, ward you well. King Etzel’s wife will have it so.”
“Thou turnest too late,” said the king. “God reward thee, noble Rudeger, for the truth and the love thou hast shown us, if it endure but to the end. We shall ever thank and serve thee for the rich gifts thou gavest to me and my kinsmen, when thou broughtest us with true heart into Etzel’s land: so thou let us live. Think well thereon, noble Rudeger.”
“Gladly would I grant it,” said the knight. “Might I but give thee freely, as I would, with none to chide me!”
“Give that no thought,” said Gernot. “Never host entreated guests so kindly as thou us; the which will advantage thee if we live.”
“Would to God, noble Gernot,” cried Rudeger, “that ye were at the Rhine, and I dead with honour, since I must fight with you! Never strangers were worse entreated by friends.”
“God reward thee, Sir Rudeger,” answered Gernot, “for thy rich gifts. I should rue thy death, for in thee a virtuous man would fall. Behold, good knight, the sword thou gavest, in my hand. It hath never failed me in my need. Its edge hath killed many a warrior. It is finely tempered and stark, and thereto bright and good. So goodly a gift, I ween, never knight will give more. If thou forbear not, but fall upon us, and slay any of my kinsmen here, thou shalt perish by thine own sword! Much I pity thee and thy wife.”
“Would to God, Sir Gernot, thou hadst thy will, and thy friends were out of peril! To thee I would entrust wife and daughter.”
Then said the youngest of fair Uta’s sons, “How canst thou do this thing, Sir Rudeger? All that came hither with me are thy friends. A vile deed is this. Thou makest thy daughter too soon a widow. If thou and thy knights defy us, ill am I apayed, that I trusted thee before all other men, when I won thy daughter for my wife.”
“Forget not thy troth, noble king, if God send thee hence,” answered Rudeger. “Let not the maiden suffer for my sin. By thine own princely virtue, withdraw not thy favour from her.”
“Fain would I promise it,” said Giselher the youth. “Yet if my high-born kinsmen perish here by thy hand, my love for thee and thy daughter must perish also.”
“Then God have mercy!” cried the brave man; whereat he lifted his shield, and would have fallen upon the guests in Kriemhild’s hall.
But Hagen called out to him from the stairhead, “Tarry awhile, noble Rudeger. Let me and my masters speak with thee yet awhile in our need. What shall it profit Etzel if we knights die in a strange land? I am in evil case,” said Hagen. “The shield that Gotelind gave me to carry, the Huns have hewn from my hand. In good faith I bore it hither. Would to God I had such a shield as thou hast, noble Rudeger! A better I would not ask for in the battle.”
“I would gladly give thee my shield, durst I offer it before Kriemhild. Yet take it, Hagen, and wear it. Ha! mightest thou but win with it to Burgundy!”
When they saw him give the shield so readily, there were eyes enow red with hot tears. It was the last gift that Rudeger of Bechlaren ever gave.
Albeit Hagen was grim and stern, he was melted by the gift that the good knight, so nigh to his end, had given him. And many a warrior mourned with him.
“Now God reward thee, noble Rudeger; there will never be thy like again for giving freely to homeless knights. May the fame of thy charity live for ever. Sad news hast thou brought me. We had trouble enow. God pity us if we must fight with friends.”
The Margrave answered, “Thou grievest not more than I.”
“I will requite thee for thy gift, brave Rudeger. Whatever betide thee from these knights, my hand will not touch thee—not if thou slewest every man of Burgundy.”
Rudeger bowed, and thanked him. All the folk wept. Sore pity it was that none could stay the strife. The father of all virtue lay dead in Rudeger.
Then Folker the fiddler went to the door and said, “Since my comrade Hagen hath sworn peace, thou shalt have it also from my hand. Well didst thou earn it when we came first into this country. Noble Margrave, be my envoy. The Margravine gave me these red bracelets to wear at the hightide. See them now, and bear witness that I did it.”
“Would to God that the Margravine might give thee more! Doubt not but I shall tell my dear one, if I ever see her alive.”
When he had promised that, Rudeger lifted up his shield; he waxed fierce, and tarried no longer. Like a knight he fell upon the guests. Many a swift blow he smote. Folker and Hagen stood back, for they had vowed it. But so many bold men stood by the door that Rudeger came in great scathe.
Athirst for blood, Gunther and Gernot let him pass in. Certes, they were heroes. Giselher drew back sorrowing. He hoped to live yet awhile; wherefore he avoided Rudeger in the strife.
Then the Margrave’s men ran at their foemen, and followed their master like good knights. They carried sharp weapons, wherewith they clove many a helmet and buckler. The weary ones answered the men of Bechlaren with swift blows that pierced deep and straight through their harness to their life’s blood. They did wonderly in the battle.
All the warriors were now in the hall. Folker and Hagen fell on them, for they had sworn to spare none save the one man. Their hands struck blood from the helmets. Right grim was the clash of swords! Many a shield-plate sprang in sunder, and the precious stones were scattered among the blood. So fiercely none will fight again. The prince of Bechlaren hewed a path right and left, as one acquainted with battle. Well did Rudeger approve him that day a bold and blameless knight. Gunther and Gernot smote many heroes dead. Giselher and Dankwart laid about them, fearing naught, and sent many a man to his doom.
Rudeger approved him stark enow, bold and well armed. Ha! many a knight he slew! One of the Burgundians saw this, and was wroth; whereat Rudeger’s death drew nigh.
Gernot cried out to the Margrave, “Noble Rudeger; thou leavest none of my men alive. It irketh me sore; I will bear it no longer. I will turn thy gift against thee, for thou hast taken many friends from me. Come hither, thou bold man. What thou gavest me I will earn to the uttermost.”
Or the Margrave had fought his way to him, bright bucklers grew dim with blood. Then, greedy of fame, the men ran at each other, and began to ward off the deadly wounds. But their swords were so sharp that nothing could withstand them. Rudeger the knight smote Gernot through his flint-hard helmet, that the blood brake out. Soon the good warrior was avenged. He swung Rudeger’s gift on high, and, albeit he was wounded to the death, he smote him through his good shield and his helmet, that Gotelind’s husband died. So rich a gift was never worse requited. So they fell in the strife—Gernot and Rudeger—slain by each other’s hand.
Thereat Hagen waxed grimmer than afore. The hero of Trony said, “Great woe is ours. None can ever make good to their folk and their land the loss of these two knights. Rudeger’s men shall pay for it.” They gave no quarter. Many were struck down unwounded that had come to, but that they were drowned in the blood.
“Woe is me for my brother, fallen dead! Each hour bringeth fresh dole. For my father-in-law, Rudeger, I grieve also. Twofold is my loss and my sorrow.”
When Giselher saw his brother slain, they that were in the hall suffered for it. Death lagged not behind. Of the men of Bechlaren there was left not a living soul.
Gunther and Giselher, and eke Hagen, Dankwart and Folker, the good knights, went where the two warriors lay, and there the heroes wept piteously.
“Death hath despoiled us sore,” said Giselher the youth. “Stop your weeping, and go out to the air, that we strife-weary ones may cool our harness. God will not let us live longer, I ween.”
They that were without saw them sitting, or leaning and taking their rest. Rudeger’s men were all slain; the din was hushed. The silence endured so long that Etzel was angered, and the king’s wife cried, “Woe is me for this treason. They speak too long. The bodies of our foemen are left unscathed by Rudeger’s hand. He plotteth to guide them back to Burgundy. What doth it profit us, King Etzel, that we have shared all our wealth with him? The knight hath done falsely. He that should have avenged us cometh to terms with them.”
But Folker, the valiant warrior, answered her, “Alack! it is not so, noble queen. If I might give the lie to one so high-born as thou art, thou hast foully slandered Rudeger. Sorry terms have he and his knights made with us. With such good will he did the king’s bidding, that he and his men all lie dead. Look round thee for another, Kriemhild, to obey thee. Rudeger served thee till his death. If thou doubtest, thou mayest see for thyself.”
To her grief they did it. They brought the mangled hero where Etzel saw him. Never were Etzel’s knights so doleful. When the dead Margrave was held up before them, none could write or tell all the bitter wailing whereby women and men alike uttered their heart’s dole. Etzel’s woe was so great that the sound of his lamentation was as a lion’s roar. Loud wept his wife. They mourned good Rudeger bitterly.