Read The Nibelungenlied: The Lay of the Nibelungs (Oxford World's Classics) Online
Authors: Cyril Edwards
1994
When Dietrich heard that, he took the noble queen by the arm—she was in great distress. On his other side he led Etzel away with him. Six hundred gallant men also walked away with Dietrich.
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Then the margrave, noble Rüedeger, said: ‘If anyone else is to leave this hall who is, after all, glad to serve you, let us hear, for a lasting truce would be fitting between good friends.’
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Giselher of Burgundy answered him: ‘Let truce and reconciliation be proclaimed to you and your men, since you are constant in your loyalty. You shall go from here without fear, along with your friends.’
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When Lord Rüedeger left the hall, five hundred or more followed the Lord of Pöchlarn, his friends and vassals, at whose hands King Gunther afterwards gained great losses.
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Then a Hunnish warrior saw Etzel walking close by Dietrich—he wanted to profit by that.
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The fiddler dealt him such a blow that his head swiftly landed at Etzel’s feet.
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When the lord of that land had made his way out of the hall, he turned back and looked at Volker: ‘Alas for these guests of mine, this is dire peril—that all my warriors should lie dead before them! Woe
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upon this festivity!’ said the proud king. ‘There is one fighting inside there called Volker, fierce as a wild boar, and he is a minstrel. I thank my good fortune that I escaped that devil! His lays
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sound ill, his
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bowing is red. His melodies fell great numbers of heroes dead. I don’t know what that minstrel has against us, but I never gained such great woe by any guest.’
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They had let those they wanted leave the hall. Inside great clamour then arose. The guests grievously avenged what had befallen them before. Ah, what helmets valiant Volker broke apart! Gunther,
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the proud king, turned towards the turmoil: ‘Do you hear the melodies, Hagen, which Volker is fiddling amongst the Huns over there, all those who go to the doors? It is red rosin he rubs on his fiddle’s bow!’
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‘I regret beyond measure’, said Hagen, ‘that I ever sat higher than that knight in hall. I have been his companion and he mine, and if we ever return home, we will still remain true to one another. See now,
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proud king, how Volker holds you dear! He is willingly earning your silver and your gold. His fiddler’s bow cuts its way for him through the hard steel. It breaks brightly shining marks on the helmets.
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I never saw a fiddler make such a splendid stand as Volker the warrior has done today. His lays ring out through helmets and rims. He ought indeed to ride good warhorses and wear splendid garments!’
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Of all the kinsmen of the Huns who had been in the hall, none now was left alive inside. Thus the clamour had died down—no one did further battle with them. The bold, gallant warriors laid their swords aside.
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T
HE
lords sat down then after their wearisome labours. Volker and Hagen walked out of the hall. Those haughty warriors leaned upon their shields. Wise words were spoken by both of them there.
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Then Giselher, the warrior of Burgundy, spoke up: ‘Dear friends, you may not rest yet. You must carry the corpses out of the hall. We’ll be attacked again, I tell you in all truth! They must lie no longer
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beneath our feet here. Before the Huns vanquish us by their attacks, we will yet hew such wounds as will give me great joy. I am firmly resolved on that,’ said Giselher then.
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‘Happy am I to have such a lord!’ said Hagen then. ‘Such counsel would befit none but a warrior who has done such deeds as my young lord has today. You Burgundians may all rejoice in this!’
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They followed that counsel then and carried seven thousand dead out through the doorway; they threw them out. They tumbled down the steps of the hall. Then there arose a most woeful clamour among their kinsmen. There were several among them who were so slightly
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wounded that if they had been tended more gently they would yet have recovered—falling from such a height, they inevitably died. Their friends mourned over them then, as they had good reason to do.
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Then Volker the fiddler, that gallant hero, said: ‘Now I see for myself that what I have been told is true. The Huns are base—they lament like women. They ought now to tend to their sorely wounded.’
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A margrave then thought these words were well-meant. He had seen one of his kinsmen fall into the blood. He took him up into his arms and wanted to carry him away. The valiant minstrel then speared him to death with his javelin as he bent over his kinsman.
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When the others saw that, they took flight. All of them took to cursing that same minstrel. He picked up a javelin, very sharp and hard, which one of the Huns had flung up at him there. He flung it powerfully
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far away through the castle, high above the folk’s heads. He gave Etzel’s men lodgings further off from the hall.
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People on all sides feared his mighty courage.
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Many thousand men stood in front of the hall then. Volker and Hagen then declared to King Etzel their full intent. (It was to cost the bold and worthy heroes dear in time to come.) ‘It would become
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the people’s protector
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well,’ said Hagen, ‘if the lords were to fight at the very front, just as each of my lords does here. Their swords hew through helmets, and blood flows in their wake.’
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Etzel was so bold that he grasped his shield. ‘Be on your guard now,’ said Lady Kriemhilt, ‘and offer gold to the warriors, piled high upon shield-rims, for if Hagen gets to grips with you over there, you will be in death’s clutches.’ The king was so bold that he
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wouldn’t relent, something seldom practised by such a powerful prince nowadays. They had to drag him back by his shield-strap.
Grim Hagen set about mocking him again: ‘It was no close
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kinship,’ said Sir Hagen, ‘that Etzel and Sivrit shared with one another. He loved Kriemhilt before she ever beheld you—basest of kings, why do you plot against me?’
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The noble king’s wife heard these words. Kriemhilt was enraged that Hagen dared upbraid her before Etzel’s men, and therefore she again began to plot against the guests. She said: ‘For any man who
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were to slay Hagen of Tronege for me and bring his head before me here, I’d fill Etzel’s rim with red gold, and give him as a reward, moreover, many good castles and lands.’
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‘Now I don’t know what they are waiting for,’ said the minstrel. ‘I never saw heroes standing in such a cowardly way before, when such a great reward was heard to be offered. Etzel ought never to hold them dear for this!’ Those who eat the prince’s bread so disgracefully
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here and now fail him in his greatest need—I see many of them standing here in most cowardly fashion. Yet they are supposed to be bold! They must bear the shame of this forever!’
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T
HEN
Margrave Irinc of Denmark called out: ‘For a long time now I have risked my life for honour and have done much of the best when folk have met in battle. Bring me my armour now—I will take on Hagen!’
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‘I would advise against that,’ said Hagen then. ‘Tell the Hunnish warriors to stand further back. If some two or three of you leap into the hall, I’ll send you back down the steps in a most unhealthy state!’
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‘That’ll not deter me!’ replied Irinc. ‘I have tried such perilous tests before. I’ll take you on alone with my sword. How will the haughty words you have spoken help you then?’
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Irinc the warrior was quickly armed then, and Irnfrit of Thuringia, a bold youth, and mighty Hawart with a good thousand men. No matter what Irinc undertook, they wanted to stand by him in everything.
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Then the fiddler saw a huge company approaching, all armed, alongside Irinc. Great numbers of them were wearing stout helmets, strapped on. Bold Volker grew somewhat angry at that. ‘Do you see,
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friend Hagen, Irinc walking there, he who vowed to take you on alone with his sword? How does such lying become heroes? I have nothing but contempt for this! There must be a good thousand warriors or more walking armed alongside him.’
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‘Now do not accuse me of lying!’ said Hawart’s vassal. ‘I’ll willingly carry out all that I have vowed. By no means will I desist out of fear. Grim though Hagen may be, I will take him on alone.’
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Irinc knelt at the feet of his kinsmen and vassals, beseeching them to let him take on the warrior alone. They did so unwillingly, for proud Hagen of Burgundy was well known to them. Yet Irinc
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pleaded with them so long that in the end it did take place. When his retinue saw what his intention was and that he was in pursuit of honour, they let him go ahead. A fierce battle then broke out between those two.
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Irinc of Denmark held his javelin high in the air. That proud warrior of high repute covered himself with his shield. Then he ran up the stairs to Hagen, right up to the hall. Great clamour arose then
among the warriors. They hurled their javelins from their hands with
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all their might then, penetrating their sturdy shields right through to their bright garments, so that the shafts of the javelins flew high into the air. Next the two fierce, bold men reached for their swords.
*
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Bold Hagen’s valour was mighty and great. Irinc, for his part, struck such blows at him that all the hall resounded. The palace and the towers echoed with the sound of their blows. The warrior could not carry out his intent then. Irinc left Hagen standing there
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unwounded. He hastened over to the fiddler. He thought he might overcome him with his fierce blows. Volker, that gallant warrior, was well capable of protecting himself with his shield. Then the fiddler
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struck him such a blow that Irinc’s shield-bolts flew up over the rim into the air at Volker’s hands. Irinc left him alone then—he was a deadly foe. Next he charged at Gunther of Burgundy. Each of them
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was strong enough in battle. No matter what blows Gunther and Irinc dealt one another, they caused no blood to flow from wounds. Their armour prevented that, being sturdy and of good quality.
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Irinc abandoned Gunther and charged at Gernot—he hewed fire out of his chainmail. Mighty Gernot of Burgundy came close to slaying bold Irinc. Then Irinc leapt away from the prince—he was fleet
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enough of foot. The hero had soon slain four of the Burgundians, of the noble retinue of Worms on the Rhine.
At that Giselher grew angrier than ever before. ‘God knows, Sir
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Irinc,’ said young Giselher, ‘you must pay at my hands for those who now lie dead before you here!’ With that he charged at him. He struck the Dane so hard that he could not move from the spot. At Giselher’s
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hands he fell down into the blood, so that they all believed that the worthy hero would never strike another blow in battle. Yet Irinc lay there unwounded at Giselher’s feet. Because of the din when the
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helmet was struck and the ringing of the sword his wits were much enfeebled, so that the bold warrior lost consciousness. Mighty Giselher had brought that about by his strength.
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As the impact from the great blow to his head he had suffered there began to recede, Irinc thought: ‘I am still alive and not wounded at all. For the first time now I have met the acquaintance of Giselher’s valour!’ He heard his foes talking as they stood on both sides of him.
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If they knew the truth he would have suffered still more. He could also hear that Giselher stood close by him there. He wondered how he might escape his foes.
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Like a man berserk, he leapt up out of the blood! He owed his life to his fleetness of foot. Then he ran out of the hall, but there he found Hagen again and struck fierce blows against him with his courageous hands. At that Hagen thought: ‘You must die! Unless the Foul
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Fiend protects you, you can’t escape!’ Yet Irinc wounded Hagen through his visor. The hero struck that blow with Waske,
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an excellent sword.
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When Lord Hagen realized he had been wounded, the sword threshed about wildly in his hand.
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Hawart’s vassal had to give way to him then and there. Hagen followed him down the steps. Valiant Irinc
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flung his shield over his head. Even if that staircase had been three times as long, Hagen would never have let him strike a single blow. Ah, what red sparks flew from the top of his helmet!
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Irinc came back to his men safe and sound. Then Kriemhilt was told of those tidings, of what he had done in battle against Hagen of Tronege; the queen thanked him most profoundly. ‘Now
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God reward you, Irinc, most famed, worthy hero—you have given good hope to my heart and mind. Now I see Hagen’s garments red with blood.’ Kriemhilt herself, in her joy, took the shield from his hands.
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‘You have small cause to thank him,’ said Hagen. ‘If he’d make another attempt, that would befit a warrior. If he were to escape then, he’d be a bold man indeed! The wound I have received from him will bring you little profit. Your seeing my chainmail red because of my
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wound urges me on to bring about many a man’s death! Only now am I angry at Hawart’s vassal. Irinc the warrior has done me little damage as yet.’
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Irinc of Denmark stood facing the wind. He was cooling himself in his chainmail; he unbuckled his helmet. All the people then said that he was of great courage. That raised the margrave’s spirits high.