The Nibelungenlied

ADVENTURE XXXII (1) How Bloedel Was Slain.

Full ready were now Bloedel’s war­riors. A thou­sand hauberks strong, they hied them to where Dankwart sate at ta­ble with the squires. Then the very great­est hate arose among the heroes. When Sir Bloedel drew near the ta­bles, Dankwart, the mar­shal, greet­ed him in cour­te­ous wise. “Wel­come, Sir Bloedel, in our house. In truth me-​won­dereth at thy com­ing. What doth it mean?”

“For­sooth, thou needst not greet me,” so spake Bloedel; “for this com­ing of mine doth mean thine end. Be­cause of Ha­gen, thy broth­er, by whom Siegfried was slain, thou and many oth­er knights must suf­fer here among the Huns.”

“Not so, Sir Bloedel,” quoth Dankwart, “else this jour­ney to your court might rue us sore. I was but a lit­tle child when Siegfried lost his life. I know not what blame King Et­zel’s wife could put on me.”

“Of a truth, I wot not how to tell you of these tales; thy kins­men, Gun­ther and Ha­gen, did the deed. Now ward you, ye wan­der­ers, ye may not live. With your death must ye be­come Kriemhild’s pledge.”

“And ye will not turn you,” quoth Dankwart, “then do my en­treaties rue me; they had bet­ter far been spared.”

The doughty knight and brave sprang up from the ta­ble; a sharp weapon, mick­le and long, he drew and dealt Bloedel so fierce a sword-​stroke that his head lay straight­way at his feet. “Let that be thy mar­riage morn­ing gift,” (2) spake Dankwart, the knight, “for Nudung’s bride, whom thou wouldst cher­ish with thy love. They call be­troth her to an­oth­er man up­on the morn. Should he crave the dowry, ’twill be giv­en to him eft­soon.” A faith­ful Hun had told him that the queen did plan against them such grievous wrongs.

When Bloedel’s men be­held their lord lie slain, no longer would they stand this from the guests. With up­lift­ed swords they rushed, grim of mood, up­on the youth­ful squires. Many a one did rue this lat­er. Loud­ly Dankwart called to all the fel­low­ship: “Ye see well, no­ble squires, how mat­ters stand. Now ward you, wan­der­ers! For­sooth we have great need, though Kriemhild asked us here in right friend­ly wise.”

Those that had no sword reached down in front of the bench­es and lift­ed many a long foot­stool by its legs. The Bur­gun­di­an squires would now abide no longer, but with the heavy stools they dealt many bruis­es through the hel­mets. How fierce­ly the stranger youths did ward them! Out of the house they drove at last the men-​at-​arms, but five hun­dred of them, or bet­ter, stayed be­hind there dead. The fel­low­ship was red and wot with blood.

These grievous tales were told now to Et­zel’s knights; grim was their sor­row, that Bloedel and his men were slain. This Ha­gen’s broth­er and his squires had done. Be­fore the king had learned it, full two thou­sand Huns or more armed them through ha­tred and hied them to the squires (this must needs be), and of the fel­low­ship they left not one alive. The faith­less Huns brought a mick­le band be­fore the house. Well the strangers stood their ground, but what boot­ed their doughty prowess? Dead they all must lie. Then in a few short hours there rose a fear­ful dole. Now ye may hear won­ders of a mon­strous thing. Nine thou­sand yeomen lay there slain and there­to twelve good knights of Dankwart’s men. One saw him stand alone still by the foe. The noise was hushed, the din had died away, when Dankwart, the hero, gazed over his shoul­ders. He spake: “Woe is me, for the friends whom I have lost! Now must I stand, alas, alone among my foes.”

Up­on his sin­gle per­son the sword-​strokes fell thick and fast. The wife of many a hero must lat­er mourn for this. High­er he raised his shield, the thong he low­ered; the rings of many an ar­mor he made to drip with blood. “Woe is me of all this sor­row,” quoth Aldri­an’s son. (3) “Give way now, Hun­nish war­riors, and let me out in­to the breeze, that the air may cool me, fight-​weary man.”

Then men saw the war­rior walk forth in full lord­ly wise. As the strife-​weary man sprang from the house, how many added swords rang on his hel­met! Those that had not seen what won­ders his hand had wrought sprang to­wards the hero of the Bur­gun­di­an land. “Now would to God,” quoth Dankwart, “that I might find a mes­sen­ger who could let my broth­er Ha­gen know I stand in such a plight be­fore these knights. He would help me hence, or lie dead at my side.”

Then spake the Hun­nish cham­pi­ons: “Thou must be the mes­sen­ger thy­self, when we bear thee hence dead be­fore thy broth­er. For the first time Gun­ther’s vas­sal will then be­come ac­quaint with grief. Pass­ing great scathe hast thou done King Et­zel here.”

Quoth he: “Now give over these threats and stand fur­ther back, or I’ll wot the ar­mor rings of some with blood. I’ll tell the tale at court my­self and make plaint to my lords of my great dole.”

So sore­ly he dis­mayed King Et­zel’s men that they durst not with­stand him with their swords, so they shot such great store of darts in­to his shield that he must needs lay it from his hand for very heav­iness. Then they weened to over­pow­er him, sith he no longer bare a shield. Ho, what deep wounds he struck them through their hel­mets! From this many a brave man was forced to reel be­fore him, and bold Dankwart gained there­by great praise. From ei­ther side they sprang up­on him, but in truth a many of them en­tered the fray too soon. Be­fore his foes he walked, as doth a boar to the woods be­fore the dogs. How might he be more brave? His path was ev­er wot with reck­ing’ blood. Certes, no sin­gle cham­pi­on might ev­er fight bet­ter with his foes than he had done. Men now saw Ha­gen’s broth­er go to court in lord­ly wise. Sew­ers (4) and cup­bear­ers heard the ring of swords, and full many a one cast from his hand the drink and what­ev­er food he bare to court. Enow strong foes met Dankwart at the stairs.

“How now, ye sew­ers,” spake the weary knight. “For­sooth ye should serve well the guests and bear to the lords good cheer and let me bring the tid­ings to my dear mas­ters.”

Those that sprang to­wards him on the steps to show their prowess, he dealt so heavy a sword-​stroke, that for fear they must needs stand fur­ther back. His mighty strength wrought mick­le won­ders.

END­NOTES: (1) Ad­ven­ture XXXII. The de­tails of the fol­low­ing scenes dif­fer ma­te­ri­al­ly in the var­ious sources. A com­par­ative study of them will be found in the works of Wilmanns and Boer. (2) “Mar­riage morn­ing gift” (M.H.G. “mor­gengabe”) was giv­en by the bride­groom to the bride on the morn­ing af­ter the wed­ding. See Ad­ven­ture XIX, note 1. (3) “Aldri­an’s son”, i.e., Dankwart. (4) “Sew­ers” (O.F. “as­seour”, M.L. “ad­ses­sor” ‘one who sets the ta­ble’; cf. F. “as­seoir” ‘to set’, ‘place’, Lat. “ad sedere”), old­er En­glish for an up­per ser­vant who brought on and re­moved the dish­es from the ta­ble.