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The Nibelungenlied by Anonymous - ADVENTURE XXVII How They Came To Bech...

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The Nibelungenlied

ADVENTURE XXVII How They Came To Bechelaren.

Then the mar­grave went to where he found the ladies, his wife with his daugh­ter, and told them straight­way the pleas­ing tid­ings he had heard, that the broth­ers of their la­dy were com­ing thith­er to their house. “My dear­est love,” quoth Rudeger, “ye must re­ceive full well the no­ble high-​born kings, when they come here to court with their fel­low­ship. Ye must give fair greet­ing, too, to Ha­gen, Gun­ther’s man. With them there cometh one al­so, hight Dankwart; the oth­er is named Folk­er, well be­seen with cour­te­sie. Ye and my daugh­ter must kiss these and abide by the knights with gen­tle breed­ing.” This the ladies vowed; quite ready they were to do it. From the chests they hunt­ed out the lord­ly robes in which they would go to meet the war­riors. Fair dames were pass­ing busy on that day. Men saw but lit­tle of false col­ors on the ladies’ cheeks; up­on their heads they wore bright bands of gold. Rich chap­lets (1) these were, that the winds might not di­shev­el their come­ly hair, and this is true i’ faith.

Let us now leave the ladies with these tasks. Much hast­ing over the plain was done by Rudeger’s friends, to where one found the lord­ings, whom men then re­ceived well in­to the mar­grave’s land. When the mar­grave, the doughty Rudeger, saw them com­ing to­ward him, how joy­ful­ly he spake: “Be ye wel­come, fair sirs, and your liege­men, too. I be fain to see you in my land.” Low obei­sance the knights then made, in good faith, with­out all hate. That he bare them all good will, he showed full well. Ha­gen he gave a spe­cial greet­ing, for him had he known of yore. (2) To Folk­er from Bur­gundy land he did the same. Dankwart he wel­comed, too. The bold knight spake: “Sith ye will pur­vey us knights, who shall have a care for our men-​at-​arms whom we have brought?”

Quoth the mar­grave: “A good night shall ye have and all your fel­low­ship. I’ll pur­vey such guard for what­ev­er ye have brought with you, of steeds and trap­pings, that naught shall be lost, that might bring you harm, not even a sin­gle spur. Ye foot­men pitch the tents up­on the plain. What ye lose I’ll pay in full. Take off the bri­dles, let the hors­es run.”

Sel­dom had host done this for them afore. There­fore the guests made mer­ry. When that was done, the lordlings rode away and the foot­men laid them ev­ery­where up­on the grass. Good ease they had; I ween, they nev­er fared so gen­tly on the way. The no­ble mar­gravine with her fair daugh­ter was come out be­fore the cas­tle. One saw stand by her side the love­ly ladies and many a come­ly maid. Great store of arm­lets and prince­ly robes they wore. The pre­cious stones gleamed afar from out their pass­ing cost­ly weeds. Fair in­deed were they fash­ioned.

Then came the guests and alight­ed there straight­way. Ho, what great cour­te­sie one found among the Bur­gun­di­an men! Six and thir­ty maids and many oth­er dames, whose per­sons were wrought as fair as heart could wish, went forth to meet them with many a valiant man. Fair greet­ings were giv­en there by no­ble dames. The young mar­gravine kissed all three kings, as did her moth­er, too. Close at hand stood Ha­gen. Her fa­ther bade her kiss him, but when she gazed up­on him, he seemed so fear­ful that she had fain left it un­done. Yet she must needs per­form what the host now bade her do. Her col­or changed first pale then red. Dankwart, too, she kissed, and then the min­strel. For his great prowess was this greet­ing giv­en. The young mar­gravine took by the hand Knight Gisel­her of the Bur­gun­di­an land. The same her moth­er did to Gun­ther, the valiant man. Full mer­ri­ly they went hence with the heroes. The host walked at Ger­not’s side in­to a broad hall, where the knights and ladies sate them down. Soon they bade pour out for the guests good wine. Certes, heroes might nev­er be bet­ter pur­veyed than they. Rudeger’s daugh­ter was gazed up­on with lov­ing glances, so fair she was. For­sooth many a good knight ca­ressed her in his mind. And well did she de­serve this, so high she was of mood. The knights thought what they would, but it might not come to pass. Back and forth shot the glances at maids and dames. Of them sate there enow. The no­ble fid­dler bare the host good will.

Then they part­ed af­ter the cus­tom, knights and ladies go­ing to dif­fer­ent sides. In the broad hall they set up the ta­bles and served the strangers in lord­ly wise. For the sake of the guests the no­ble mar­gravine went to ta­ble, but let her daugh­ter stay with the maid­ens, where she sate by right. The guests saw naught of her, which irked them sore, in truth.

When they had eat­en and drunk on ev­ery side, men brought the fair again in­to the hall; nor were mer­ry speech­es left un­said. Many such spake Folk­er, this brave and lusty knight. Be­fore them all the no­ble min­strel spake: “Mighty mar­grave, God hath dealt full gra­cious­ly with you, for he hath giv­en you a pass­ing come­ly wife and there­to a life of joy. An’ I were a prince,” quoth the min­strel, “and should wear a crown, I would fain have to wife your come­ly daugh­ter. This my heart doth wish. She is love­ly for to see, there­to no­ble and good.”

Then an­swered the mar­grave: “How might that be, that king should ev­er crave the dear daugh­ter of mine? My wife and I are ex­iles; what booteth in such ease the maid­en’s pass­ing come­li­ness?”

To this Ger­not, the well-​bred man, made an­swer: “An’ I might have a love af­ter mine own de­sire, I should be ev­er glad of such a wife.”

Ha­gen, too, replied in full kind­ly wise: “My lord Gisel­her must take a wife. The mar­gravine is of such high kin that I and all his liege­men would glad­ly serve her, should she wear a crown in Bur­gundy land.”

This speech thought Rudeger pass­ing good, and Gotelind too, in­deed it joyed their mood. Then the heroes brought to pass that the no­ble Gisel­her took her to wife, as did well be­fit a king. Who may part what shall be joined to­geth­er? Men prayed the mar­gravine to go to court, and swore to give him the win­some maid. He, too, vowed to wed the love­ly fair. For the maid­en they set cas­tles and land aside, and this the hand of the no­ble king did pledge with an oath, and Lord Ger­not, too, that this should hap.

Then spake the mar­grave: “Sith I have naught of cas­tles, I will ev­er serve you with my troth. As much sil­ver and gold will I give my daugh­ter, as an hun­dred sumpters may bare­ly car­ry, that it may please the hero’s kin in hon­or.”

Af­ter the cus­tom men bade them stand in a ring. Over against her many a youth stood, blithe of mood. In their minds they har­bored thoughts, as young folk still are wont to do. Men then gan ask the win­some maid whether she would have the knight or no. Loth in part she was, and yet she thought to take the state­ly man. She shamed her of the ques­tion, as many an­oth­er maid hath done. Her fa­ther Rudeger coun­seled her to an­swer yes, and glad­ly take him. In a trice young Gisel­her was at her side, and clasped her in his white hands, al­beit but lit­tle time she might en­joy him.

Then Spake the mar­grave: “Ye no­ble and mighty kings, when ye now ride again (that is the cus­tom) home to Bur­gundy, I will give you my child, that ye may take her with you.”

This then they vowed. Now men must needs give over all the noisy joy. They bade the maid­en hie her to her bow­er, and bade the guests to sleep and rest them against the day. Mean­while men made ready the food; the host pur­veyed them well.

When now they had eat­en, they would ride hence to the Hun­nish lands. “I’ll guard against that well,” spake the no­ble host. “Ye must tar­ry still, for full sel­dom have I gained such wel­come guests.”

To this Dankwart replied: “For­sooth this may not be. Where would ye find the food, the bread and wine, that ye must have for so many war­riors an­oth­er night?”

When the host heard this, he spake: “Give o’er this speech. My dear lords, ye must not say me nay. For­sooth I’d give you vit­taile for a fort­night, with all your fel­low­ship that is come hith­er with you. King Et­zel hath tak­en from me as yet full lit­tle of my goods.”

How­ev­er much they de­murred, still they must needs tar­ry there un­til the fourth morn­ing, when such deeds were done by the boun­ty of the host that it was told af­ter. He gave his guests both mounts and robes. No longer might they stay, they must fare forth. Through his boun­ty bold Rudeger wot how to save but lit­tle. Naught was de­nied that any craved, it could not but please them all. Their no­ble meiny now brought sad­dled be­fore the gate the many steeds, and to them came forth thee stranger knights. In their hands they bare their shields, for they would ride to Et­zel’s land. Be­fore the no­ble guests come forth from the hall, the host had prof­fered ev­ery­where his gifts. He wist how to live boun­ti­ful­ly, in mick­le hon­ors. To Gisel­her he had giv­en his come­ly daugh­ter; to Gun­ther, the wor­ship­ful knight, who sel­dom took a gift, he gave a coat of mail, which the no­ble and mighty king wore well with hon­or. Gun­ther bowed low over no­ble Rudeger’s hand. Then to Ger­not he gave a weapon good enow, the which he lat­er bare full glo­ri­ous­ly in strife. Lit­tle did the mar­grave’s wife be­grudge him the gift, but through it good Rudeger was forced to lose his life. Gotelind of­fered Ha­gen a lov­ing gift, as well be­fit her. He took it, sith the king had tak­en one, that he should not fare forth from her to the feast­ing, with­out her present. Lat­er he gain­sayed it. “Of all that I have ev­er seen,” quoth Ha­gen, “I crave to bear naught else save that shield on yon­der wall; fain would I take that with me in­to Et­zel’s land.”

When the mar­gravine heard Ha­gen’s speech, it mind­ed her of her grief — tears be­came her well. She thought full dear­ly on Nudung’s (3) death, whom Wit­tich had slain; from this she felt the stress of sor­row. To the knight she spake: “I’ll give you the shield. Would to God in heav­en, that he still lived who bare it once in hand. He met his death in bat­tle; for him must I ev­er weep, which giveth me, poor wife, dire woe.”

The no­ble mar­gravine rose from her seat and with her white hands she seized the shield. To Ha­gen the la­dy bare it, who took it in his hand. This gift was worthi­ly be­stowed up­on the knight. A cov­er of shin­ing silk con­cealed its col­ors, for it was set with pre­cious stones. In sooth the day­light nev­er shone on bet­ter shield. Had any wished to buy it at its cost, ’twere well worth a thou­sand marks. (4) Ha­gen bade the shield be borne away.

Then Dankwart came to court. To him the mar­grave’s daugh­ter gave great store of rich ap­par­el, the which he lat­er wore among the Huns in pass­ing lord­ly wise. How­ev­er many gifts were tak­en by them, naught would have come in­to the hands of any, save through the kind­ness of the host, who prof­fered them so fair. Lat­er they be­came such foes that they were forced to strike him dead.

Now the doughty Folk­er went cour­te­ous­ly with his fid­dle and stood be­fore Gotelind. He played sweet tunes and sang to her his songs. Thus he took his leave and part­ed from Bechelaren. The mar­gravine bade fetch a chest. Now hear the tale of friend­ly gifts! Twelve rings she took out and placed them on his hand. “These ye must bear hence to Et­zel’s land and wear them at court for my sake, whith­er­so­ev­er ye turn, that men may tell me how ye have served me yon­der at the feast.” What the la­dy craved, he lat­er car­ried out full well.

Then spake the host to his guests: “Ye shall jour­ney all the gen­tli­er, for I my­self will guide you and bid guard you well, that none may harm you on the road.”

Then his sumpters were laden soon. The host was well be­seen with five hun­dred men with steeds and ves­ture. These he took with him full mer­ri­ly hence to the feast­ing. Not one of them lat­er ev­er came alive to Bech­laren. With a lov­ing kiss the host part­ed hence; the same did Gisel­her, as his gen­tle breed­ing coun­seled him. In their arms they clasped fair wives. This many a high- born maid must needs be­wail in lat­er times. On ev­ery side they opened the case­ments, for the host with his liege­men would now mount their steeds. I ween their hearts did tell them of the bit­ter woes to come. Then wept many a dame and many a come­ly maid. They pined for their dear kins­men, whom nev­er­more they saw in Bechelaren. Yet these rode mer­ri­ly across the sand, down along the Danube to the Hun­nish land.

Then no­ble Rudeger, the full lusty knight, spake to the Bur­gun­di­ans: “Certes, the tid­ings that we be com­ing to the Huns must not be left un­said, for king Et­zel hath nev­er heard aught that pleased him more.”

So down through Aus­tria the en­voy sped, and to the folk on ev­ery side ’twas told that the heroes were com­ing from Worms be­yond the Rhine. Naught could have been liefer to the courtiers of the king. On be­fore the en­voys hast­ed with the tid­ings, that the Ni­belungs were al­ready in the Hun­nish land.

“Thou must greet them well, Kriemhild, la­dy mine. Thy dear broth­ers be com­ing in great state to vis­it thee.”

With­in a case­ment win­dow La­dy Kriemhild stood and looked out to see her kin, as friend doth for friend. Many a man she spied from her fa­ther­land. The king, too, learned the tale and laughed for very plea­sure. “Now well is me of my joys,” quoth Kriemhild, “my kins­men bring with them many a brand-​new shield and white coat of mail. He who would have gold, let him be­think him of my sor­rows, and I’ll ev­er be his friend.”

END­NOTES: (1) “Chap­lets”, see Ad­ven­ture 10, note 1. (2) “Of yore”, see Ad­ven­ture 23, note 2. (3) “Nudung” was slain, ac­cord­ing to the “Thidrek­saga”, chap. 335, by “Vidg”a (here Wit­tich, M.H.G. “Witege”, the son of Wielant, the smith, in the bat­tle of Gron­sport. There, chap. 369, he is Gotelind’s broth­er, but in “Biterolf” and the “Rosen­garten” he is her son. (4) “Marks”, see Ad­ven­ture V, note 5.