The Nibelungenlied

ADVENTURE IV How He Fought with the Saxons. (1)

Now there came strange tales to Gun­ther’s land, though mes­sen­gers sent them from afar — tales of un­known war­riors, who bare them hate. When they heard this word, in sooth it pleased them not. These war­riors will I name to you: there was Li­udeger of Sax­on land, a great and lord­ly prince, and then from Den­mark Lin­de­gast, the king. For their jour­ney they had gath­ered many a lord­ly stranger.

To Gun­ther’s land were come the mes­sen­gers his foes had sent. Men asked the strangers for their tid­ings and bade them hie them soon to court un­to King Gun­ther. The king gave them greet­ing fair; he spake: “Be ye wel­come . I have not heard who sent you hith­er, but let that now be told.” So spake the right good king. But they feared full sore King Gun­ther’s war­like mood.

“Will ye, O King, per­mit that we tell the tales we bring, then we shall not hold our tongue, but name to you the lord­ings who have sent us hith­er: Li­ude­gast and Li­udeger; they would march up­on this land. Ye have earned their wrath, in­deed we heard that both lords bear you mor­tal hate. They would har­ry at Worms up­on the Rhine and have the aid of many a knight; that may ye know up­on our faith. With­in twelve weeks the jour­ney must be­fall. And ye have aught of good friends, who will help guard your cas­tles and your lands, let this soon be seen. Here shall be carved by them many a helm and shield. Or would ye par­ley with them, let mes­sen­gers be sent. Then the nu­mer­ous bands of your mighty foes will not ride so near you, to give you pain of heart, from which full many a lusty knight and a good must die.”

“Now bide a time,” spake the good king, “till I be­think me bet­ter; then ye shall know my mind. Have I aught of trusty men, I will not with­hold from them these startling tales, but will make com­plaint there­of un­to my friends.”

To Gun­ther, the mighty king, it was loth enow, but in his heart he bare the speech in se­cret wise. He bade Ha­gen be fetched and oth­ers of his men, and sent eft­soon to court for Ger­not. Then came the very best of men that could he found. The king spake: “Men would seek us here in this our land with mighty armies, now make ye wail for that.”

To this Ger­not, a brave and lusty knight, made an­swer: “That will we fend in­deed with swords. On­ly the fey (2) will fall. So let them die; for their sake I will not for­get my hon­or. Let these foes of ours be wel­come to us.”

Then spake Ha­gen of Troneg: “This thin­keth me not good. Li­ude­gast and Li­udeger bear great ar­ro­gance; nor can we sum­mon all our men in such short time. Why tell ye not Siegfried of the thing?” So spake the valiant knight.

To the mes­sen­gers they bade give lodg­ing in the town. What­ev­er hate they bore them, yet Gun­ther, the mighty, bade pur­vey them well, as was but right, till he dis­cov­ered of his friends who there was who would lend him aid. Yet in his fears the king was ill at ease. Just then full blithe a knight, who wot not what had happed, saw him thus sad and prayed King Gun­ther to tell him of the mat­ter. “Much it won­dereth me,” spake Siegfried, for he it was, “that ye thus have changed your mer­ry wont, which ye have used thus far with us.”

To this Gun­ther, the state­ly knight, replied: “It liketh me not to tell all folk the grievance which I must bear with­in my heart in se­cret wise. On­ly to trusty friends should one con­fide his woe of heart.”

At this Siegfried’s col­or waxed both pale and red. To the king he spake: “I have de­nied you naught and will glad­ly help you turn aside your woes. And ye seek friends, I will be one of them and trow well to de­port my­self with hon­or un­til mine end.”

“Now God re­ward you, Sir Siegfried, your speech thin­keth me good, and though your prowess help me not, yet do I re­joice to hear that ye are friend to me, and live I yet a while, I shall re­pay you well. I will let you hear why I stand thus sad; from the mes­sen­gers of my foes I have heard that they would vis­it me with war, a thing which knights have nev­er done to us in all these lands.”

“Re­gard this light­ly,” spake then Siegfried, “and calm your mood. Do as I pray you. Let me gain for you both wor­ship and ad­van­tage and do ye com­mand your knights, that they gath­er to your aid. Should your mighty foes be helped by thir­ty thou­sand (3) men, yet could I with­stand them, had I but a thou­sand; for that re­ly on me.”

Then spake King Gun­ther: “For this I’ll serve you ev­er.”

“So bid me call a thou­sand of your men, since of mine own I have but twelve, and I will guard your land. Faith­ful­ly shall the hand of Siegfried serve you. Ha­gen shall help us and al­so Or­twin, Dankwart, and Sin­dolt, your trusty men. Folk­er, the valiant man, shall al­so ride along; he shall bear the ban­ner, for to none would I liefer grant it. Let now the en­voys ride home to their mas­ters’ lands. Give them to un­der­stand they soon shall see us, that our cas­tles may rest in peace.”

Then the king bade sum­mon both his kins­men and his men. The mes­sen­gers of Li­udeger be­took them to the court. Fain they were that they should jour­ney home again. Gun­ther, the good king, made of­france of rich gifts and gave them safe-​con­voy. At this their spir­its mount­ed high. “Now say un­to my foes,” spake then Gun­ther, “that they may well give over their jour­ney and stay at home; but if they will seek me here with­in my lands, hard­ships shall they know, and my friends play me not false.”

Rich gifts men bare then for the en­voys; enow of these had Gun­ther to be­stow, nor durst the men of Li­udeger refuse them. When at last they took their leave, they part­ed hence in mer­ry mood.

Now when the mes­sen­gers were come to Den­mark and King Li­ude­gast had heard how they part­ed from the Rhine, as was told him, much he rued, in sooth, their (4) proud de­fi­ance. The en­voys said that Gun­ther had full many a valiant man-​at-​arms and among them they saw a war­rior stand, whose name was Siegfried, a hero from Nether­land. Lit­tle liked it Li­ude­gast when he heard aright this tale. When the men of Den­mark had heard these tid­ings told, they hast­ed all the more to call their friends; till Sir Li­ude­gast had gath­ered for his jour­ney full twen­ty thou­sand knights from among his valiant men. Then King Li­udeger, al­so, of Sax­on land, sent forth his sum­mons, till they had forty thou­sand men and more, with whom they thought to ride to the Bur­gun­di­an land.

Like­wise at home King Gun­ther got him men-​at-​arms among his kin and the liege­men of his broth­ers, and among Ha­gen’s men whom they wished to lead thence for bat­tle. Much need of this the heroes had, but war­riors soon must suf­fer death from this. Thus they made them ready for the jour­ney. When they would hence, Folk­er, the dar­ing, must bear the flag. In such wise they thought to ride from Worms across the Rhine. Ha­gen of Troneg was mas­ter of the troop; with them rode Sin­dolt and Hunolt, too, who wist well how to mer­it Gun­ther’s gold. Dankwart, Ha­gen’s broth­er, and Or­twin, too, well could they serve with hon­or in this war.

“Sir King,” spake then Siegfried, “stay ye at home; since that your war­riors are willed to fol­low me, re­main ye with the ladies and keep your spir­its high. I trow well to guard for you both hon­or and es­tate. Well will I bring it to pass that those who thought to seek you out at Worms up­on the Rhine, had bet­ter far have stayed at home. We shall ride so nigh un­to their land that their proud de­fi­ance shall be turned to fear.”

From the Rhine they rode through Hesse with their war­riors to­wards Sax­on land, where they lat­er fought. With fire and pil­lage, too, they har­ried all the coun­try­side, so that the two kings did learn of it in dire dis­tress. Then came they to the bor­der; the war­riors marched along. Siegfried, the strong, gan ask: “Who shall now guard here the troop?” For­sooth nev­er did men ride more scath­ful­ly to the Sax­ons. They spake: “Let the valiant Dankwart guard the young up­on the way, he is a doughty knight. Thus shall we lose the less through Li­udeger’s men. Let him and Or­twin guard the rear.”

“Then I my­self will ride,” spake Siegfried, the knight, “and play the out­look to­ward the foe, un­til I dis­cov­er aright where these war­riors be.” Quick­ly the son of fair Siegelind donned his har­ness. The troop he gave in charge to Ha­gen, when he would de­part, and to Ger­not, the valiant man. Thus he rode hence in­to the Sax­on land alone and many a hel­met band he cut to pieces on that day. Soon he spied the mighty host that lay en­camped up­on the plain and far out­weighed the forces of his men. Forty thou­sand or bet­ter still there were. Full blithe­ly Siegfried saw this in lofty mood. Mean­time a war­rior full well ar­rayed had mount­ed to the out­look ‘gainst the foe. Him Sir Siegfried spied, and the bold man saw him, too. Each be­gan to watch the oth­er in hos­tile wise. Who it was, who stood on guard, I’ll tell you now; a gleam­ing shield of gold lay by his hand. It was the good King Li­ude­gast, who was guard­ing here his band. The no­ble stranger pricked along in lord­ly wise.

Now had Sir Li­ude­gast es­pied him with hos­tile eye. In­to the flanks of their hors­es they plunged the spurs; with all their might they couched the spears against the shields. At this great fear be­fell the mighty king. Af­ter the thrust the hors­es car­ried past each oth­er the roy­al knights, as though borne up­on the wind. With the bri­dles they wheeled in knight­ly wise and the two fierce cham­pi­ons en­coun­tered with their swords. Then smote Sir Siegfried, so that the whole field did ring. Through the hero’s hand from out the hel­mets, as from fire­brands, flew the bright red sparks. Each in the oth­er found his match. Sir Li­ude­gast, too, struck many a sav­age blow; the might of each broke full up­on the shields. Thir­ty of Li­ude­gast’s men stood there on guard, but ere they could come to his aid, Siegfried had won the fight, with three groat wounds which he dealt the king through his gleam­ing breast­plate, the which was pass­ing good. The blood from the wounds gushed forth along the edges of the sword, where­at King Li­ude­gast stood in sor­ry mood. He begged for life and made of­france of his lands and said that his name was Li­ude­gast. Then came his war­rior’s, who had wit­nessed what there had happed up­on the look­out. As Siegfried would lead his cap­tive thence, he was set up­on by thir­ty of these men. With mighty blows the hero’s hand guard­ed his no­ble prize. The state­ly knight then wrought worse scathe. In self-​de­fense he did thir­ty un­to death; on­ly one he left alive, who rode full fast to tell the tale of what here had chanced. By his red­dened hel­met one might see the truth. It sore­ly grieved the men of Den­mark, when the tale was told them that their king was tak­en cap­tive. Men told it to his broth­er, who at the news be­gan to rage with mon­strous wrath, for great woe it brought him.

Li­ude­gast, the war­rior, then was led away by Siegfried’s might to Gun­ther’s men and giv­en to Ha­gen in charge. When that they heard it was the king, full mod­er­ate was their dole. The Bur­gun­di­ans now were bid­den raise their ban­ner. “Up, men,” cried Siegfried, “here shall more be done, ere the day end, and I lose not my life. Full many a state­ly dame in Sax­on land shall rue this fight. Ye heroes from the Rhine, give heed to me, for I can guide you well to Li­udeger’s band. So shall ye see hel­mets carved by the hands of good­ly knights; ere we turn again, they shall be­come ac­quaint with fear.”

To their hors­es Ger­not and all his men now hast­ed, and soon the stal­wart min­strel, Sir Folk­er, grasped the bat­tle-​flag and rode be­fore the band. Then were all the com­rades ar­rayed in lord­ly wise for strife; nor had they more than a thou­sand men, and there­to Siegfried’s twelve men-​at-​arms. Now from the road gan rise the dust, as across the land they rode; many a lord­ly shield was seen to gleam from out their midst. There, too, were come the Sax­ons with their troops and well-​sharp­ened swords, as I since have heard. Sore cut these weapons in the heroes’ hands, for they would fain guard both their cas­tles and their land against the strangers. The lord­ings’ mar­shals led on the troop. Siegfried, too, was come with his men-​at-​arms, whom he had brought from Nether­land. In the storm of bat­tle many a hand this day grew red with blood. Sin­dolt and Hunolt and Ger­not, too, slew many a knight in the strife, ere these right­ly knew the bold­ness of their foes. This many a state­ly dame must needs be­wail. Folk­er and Ha­gen and Or­twin, too, dimmed in the bat­tle the gleam of many a helm with flow­ing blood, these storm-​bold men. By Dankwart, too, great deeds were done.

The men of Den­mark proved well their hands; one heard many a shield re­sound­ing from the hurtling and from the sharp swords as well, many of which were wield­ed there. The bat­tle-​bold Sax­ons did scathe enow, but when the men of Bur­gundy pressed to the fight, by them was re­al­ly a wide wound carved. Then down across the sad­dles the blood was seen to flow. Thus they fought for hon­ors, these knights both bold and good. Loud rang the sharp weapons in the heroes’ hands, as those of Nether­land fol­lowed their lord­ing through the stur­dy host. Valiant­ly they forced their way in Siegfried’s wake, but not a knight from the Rhine was seen to fol­low. Through the shin­ing hel­mets one could see flow the bloody stream, drawn forth by Siegfried’s hand, till at last he found Li­udeger be­fore his men-​at-​arms. Thrice had he pierced the host from end to end. Now was Ha­gen come, who helped him achieve in the bat­tle all his mind. Be­fore them many a good knight must needs die this day.

When the mighty Li­udeger es­pied Siegfried and saw that he bore high in hand the good sword Bal­mung and did slay so many a man, then waxed the lord­ing wroth and fierce enow. A mighty surg­ing and a mighty clang of swords arose, as their com­rades pressed against each oth­er. The two cham­pi­ons tried their prowess all the more. The troops be­gan to yield; fierce grew the hate. To the ruler of the Sax­ons the tale was told that his broth­er had been cap­tured; great dole this gave him. Well he knew it was the son of Siegelind who had done the deed. Men blamed Sir Ger­not, but lat­er he learned the truth.

So mighty were the blows of Li­udeger that Siegfried’s charg­er reeled be­neath the sad­dle. When the steed re­cov­ered, bold Siegfried took on a fright­ful us­ance in the fray. In this Ha­gen helped him well, like­wise Ger­not, Dankwart, and Folk­er, too. Through them lay many dead. Like­wise Sin­dolt and Hunolt and Or­twin, the knight, laid many low in strife; side by side in the fray the no­ble princes stood. One saw above the hel­mets many a spear, thrown by here’s hand, hurtling through the gleam­ing shields. Blood-​red was col­ored many a lord­ly buck­ler; many a man in the fierce con­flict was un­horsed. At each oth­er ran Siegfried, the brave, and Li­udeger; shafts were seen to fly and many a keen-​edged spear. Then off flew the shield-​plates, struck by Siegfried’s hand; the hero of Nether­land thought to win the bat­tle from the valiant Sax­ons, won­drous many of whom one saw. Ho! How many shin­ing ar­mor-​rings the dar­ing Dankwart broke!

Then Sir Li­ude­gor es­pied a crown paint­ed on the shield in Siegfried’s hand. Well he knew that it was Siegfried, the mighty man. To his friends the hero loud­ly called: “De­sist ye from the strife, my men, here I have seen the son of Sieg­mund, Siegfried, the strong, and rec­og­nized him well. The foul fiend him­self hath sent him hith­er to the Sax­on land.” The ban­ners bade he low­er in the fight. Peace he craved, and this was lat­er grant­ed him, but he must needs go as hostage to Gun­ther’s land. This was wrung from him by valiant Siegfried’s hand. With one ac­cord they then gave over the strife and laid aside the many rid­dled hel­mets and the broad, bat­tered buck­lers. What­ev­er of these was found, bore the hue of blood from the Bur­gun­di­ans’ hand. They cap­tured whom they would, for this lay in their pow­er. Ger­not and Ha­gen, the full bold war­riors, bade bear away the wound­ed; five hun­dred state­ly men they led forth cap­tive to the Rhine. The worsted knights rode back to Den­mark, nor had the Sax­ons fought so well that one could give them aught of praise, and this the heroes rued full sore. The fall­en, too, were great­ly mourned by friends.

Then they bade place the weapons on sumpters for the Rhine. Siegfried, the war­rior, and his heroes had wrought full well, as Gun­ther’s men must needs con­fess. Sir Ger­not now sent mes­sen­gers home­ward to Worms in his na­tive land, and bade tell his kin what great suc­cess had happed to him and to his men, and how these dar­ing knights had striv­en well for hon­or. The squirelings ran and told the tale. Then those who afore had sor­rowed, were blithe for joy at the pleas­ing tid­ings that were come. Much ques­tion­ing was heard from no­ble dames, how it had fared with the liege­men of the mighty king. One of the mes­sen­gers they bade go to Kriemhild; this happed full se­cret­ly (open­ly she durst not), for she, too, had amongst them her own true love. When she saw the mes­sen­ger com­ing to her bow­er, fair Kriemhild spake in kind­ly wise: “Now tell me glad news, I pray. And thou dost so with­out de­ceit, I will give thee of my gold and will ev­er be thy friend. How fared forth from the bat­tle my broth­er Ger­not and oth­ers of my kin? Are many of them dead per­chance? Or who wrought there the best? This thou must tell me.”

Quick­ly then the en­voy spake: “Ne’er a cow­ard did we have, but, to tell the truth, O no­ble queen, none rode so well to the strife and fray, as did the no­ble stranger from Nether­land. Mick­le won­ders the hand of valiant Siegfried wrought. Whate’er the knights have done in strife, Dankwart and Ha­gen and oth­er men of the king, how­ev­er much they strove for hon­or, ’tis but as the wind com­pared with Siegfried, the son of Sieg­mund, the king. They slew full many a hero in the fray, but none might tell you of the won­ders which Siegfried wrought, when­ev­er he rode in­to the fight. Great woe he did the ladies through their kin; up­on the field the love of many a dame lay dead. His blows were heard to ring so loud up­on the hel­mets, that from the wounds they drew forth the blood in streams. In ev­ery knight­ly art he is a wor­thy knight and a brave. What­ev­er Or­twin of Metz achieved (and he whom he could reach with his good sword, fell sore­ly wound­ed, but most­ly dead), yet your broth­er wrought the direst woe that could ev­er chance in bat­tle. One must say of the cho­sen knights in truth, that these proud Bur­gun­di­ans ac­quit­ted them so well that they can well pre­serve their hon­or from ev­ery taint of shame. Through their hands we saw many a sad­dle bare, while the field re­sound­ed with the flash­ing swords. So well rode the war­riors from the Rhine, that it were bet­ter for their foes had it been avoid­ed. The valiant men of Troneg, al­so, wrought dire woe, when in great num­bers the armies met. Bold Ha­gen’s hand did many a one to death; of this full many sto­ries might be told here in the Bur­gun­di­an land. Sin­dolt and Hunolt, Ger­not’s men, Ru­molt the brave, have done such deeds that it may well ev­er rue Li­udeger that he made war up­on thy kins­men by the Rhine. The very best fight that happed from first to last, that one has ev­er seen, was made full lusti­ly by Siegfried’s hand. Rich hostages he bringeth to Gun­ther’s land. He won them by his prowess, this state­ly man. Of this King Li­ude­gast must bear the loss and eke his broth­er Li­udeger of Sax­on land. Now lis­ten to my tale, most no­ble queen: by the hand of Siegfried the twain were caught. Nev­er have men brought so many hostages to this land, as now are com­ing to the Rhine through him. Men are bring­ing to our land five hun­dred or more un­harmed cap­tives; and of the dead­ly wound­ed, my la­dy, know, not less than eighty blood-​red biers. These men were most­ly wound­ed by bold Siegfried’s hand. Those who in haughty pride sent a chal­lenge to the Rhine, must now needs be the cap­tives of Gun­ther, the king, and men are bring­ing them with joy un­to this land.”

Still high­er rose Kriemhild’s col­or when she heard this tale. Her fair face blushed a rosy red, that Siegfried, the youth, the state­ly knight, had fared forth so joy­ful­ly from the dan­ger­ous strife. These tid­ings could not have pleased her bet­ter. For her kins­men, too, she re­joiced in du­ty bound. Then spake the love­ly maid: “A fair tale thou hast told me; there­fore shalt thou have as guer­don rich at­tire. Like­wise I’ll have thee brought ten marks of gold.” (5) Small won­der that such tales are glad­ly told to no­ble dames.

They gave him then his guer­don, the gar­ments and the gold. Then many a fair maid hied her to the case­ment and gazed up­on the street, where many high-​met­tled war­riors were seen rid­ing in­to the Bur­gun­di­an land. There came the cham­pi­ons, the wound­ed and the sound. With­out shame they heard the greet­ings of their friends. Mer­ri­ly the host rode forth to meet his guests, for his great sor­row had been turned to joy. Well greet­ed he his vas­sals and the strangers, too; for it was on­ly meet that the mighty king in court­ly wise should thank those who were come back to him, be­cause in the storm of bat­tle they had won the fight with hon­or. Gun­ther bade his kins­men tell who had been slain up­on the march; but six­ty had been lost, whom one must mourn, as is the wont with heroes. Many a riv­en shield and bat­tered helm the un­harmed war­riors brought to Gun­ther’s land. The men alight­ed from their steeds be­fore the palace of the king. Loud was heard the joy­ous sound of the mer­ry wel­come; then or­der was giv­en to lodge the war­riors in the town. The king bade min­is­ter well un­to his guests, at­tend the wound­ed and give them good ease­ment. His cour­te­sie was clev­er­ly seen up­on his foes. He spake to Li­ude­gast: “Now be ye wel­come. Much dam­age have I ta’en be­cause of you; for this I shall now be re­paid, if for­tune fa­vor. God re­ward my kins­men, for they have giv­en me joy.”

“Well may ye thank them,” an­swered Li­udeger; “such no­ble hostages hath king nev­er gained afore. For fair treat­ment we of­fer great store of wealth, that ye may act with mer­cy to­wards your foes.”

“I will let you both go free,” spake Gun­ther, “but I must have sure­ty that my foes re­main here with me, that they do not leave the land against my will.” To that Li­udeger pledged his hand.

Men brought them to their lodg­ings and gave them ease­ment. The wound­ed were bed­ded well, and for the sound were poured out good mead and wine. Nev­er could the com­rades have been more mer­ry. Their bat­tered shields were borne away for keep­ing, and enow there was of bloody sad­dles which one bade hide away, that the ladies might not weep. Many a good knight re­turned aweary from the fray. The king did make his guests great cheer. His lands were full of strangers and of home-​folk. He bade ease the sore­ly wound­ed in kind­ly wise; their haughty pride was now laid low. Men of­fered to the leech­es rich re­wards, sil­ver with­out weight and there­to shin­ing gold, if they would heal the heroes from the stress of war. To his guests the king like­wise gave great gifts. Those that were mind­ed to set out for home, were asked to stay, as one doth to friends. The king bethought him how he might re­quite his men, for they had brought to pass his wish for fame and hon­or.

Then spake Lord Ger­not: “Let them ride away, but be it made known to them that in six weeks they must come again for a mighty feast. By then will many a one be healed who now li­eth sore­ly wound­ed.”

Then Siegfried of Nether­land al­so asked for leave, but when King Gun­ther learned his wish, lov­ing­ly he bade him stay erst­while. Were it not for the king’s sis­ter, this were nev­er done. He was too rich to take re­ward, though he well de­served it and the king liked him well, as al­so did the kins­men, who had seen what happed in bat­tle through his strength. For the sake of one fair la­dy he thought to stay, if per­chance he might es­py her. Lat­er it was done, and ac­cord­ing to his wish he met the maid. He rode there­after joy­ful­ly to Sieg­mund’s land.

At all times the host bade prac­tice knight­hood, and many a youth­ful knight did this right glad­ly. Mean­while he or­dered seats pre­pared up­on the sand be­fore the town of Worms for those who were to vis­it him in the Bur­gun­di­an land. At the time when they should come, fair Kriemhild heard it said that the king would hold a feast­ing for the sake of his dear friends. Then come­ly wom­en hast­ed apace with robes and head­gear which they were to don. The no­ble Uta heard tales told of the proud war­riors who were to come. Then many rich dress­es were tak­en from the press. To please her chil­dren she bade make gar­ments ready, that many ladies and many maids might there­with be decked and many youth­ful knights of the Bur­gun­di­an land. Al­so for many of the strangers she bade fash­ion lord­ly robes.

END­NOTES: (1) “Sax­ons”. This war with the Sax­ons does not ap­pear in the po­et­ic “Ed­da”, but was prob­ably in­tro­duced in­to the sto­ry lat­er to pro­vide the heroes with a suit­able ac­tiv­ity in the pe­ri­od elaps­ing be­tween Siegfried’s mar­riage and the jour­ney to Brun­hild’s land. (In our po­em it is placed be­fore the mar­riage.) It re­flects the an­cient feuds be­tween the Franks on the one hand and the Sax­ons and Danes on the oth­er. Orig­inal­ly Siegfried prob­ably did not take part in it, but was lat­er in­tro­duced and made the lead­er of the ex­pe­di­tion in place of the king, in ac­cor­dance with the ten­den­cy to ide­al­ize him and to give him ev­ery­where the most im­por­tant role. The two op­pos­ing lead­ers are “Li­udeger”, lord of the Sax­ons, and “Li­ude­gast”, king of Den­mark. In “Biterolf” Li­udeger rules over both Sax­ons and Danes, and Li­ude­gast is his broth­er. (2) “Fey”. This Scotch and old­er En­glish word has been cho­sen to trans­late the M.H.G. “veige”, ‘fat­ed’, ‘doomed’, as it is et­ymo­log­ical­ly the same word. The an­cient Ger­mans were fa­tal­ists and be­lieved on­ly those would die in bat­tle whom fate had so pre­des­tined. (3) “Thir­ty thou­sand”. The M.H.G. epics are fond of round num­bers and es­pe­cial­ly of thir­ty and its mul­ti­ples. They will he found to oc­cur very fre­quent­ly in our po­em. See Lach­mann, “An­merkun­gen zu den Ni­belun­gen”, 474 1. (4) “Their”. The orig­inal is ob­scure here; the mean­ing is, ‘when he heard with what mes­sage they were come, he rued the haugh­ti­ness of the Bur­gun­di­ans’. (5) “Marks of gold”. A mark (Lat. “mares”) was half a pound of gold or sil­ver.