Soon as Hartmut’s warriors from all their toil were free

Soon as Hartmut’s warriors from all their toil were free, And they were fully rested from off the stormy sea, They quickly left each other, for their homes in many places: While some their hands were wringing, smiles were seen to brighten others’ faces.

Then did Hartmut also turn away from the shore, And to a stately palace the fair Gu-drun he bore. Henceforth the youthful maiden must tarry there far longer Than she to stay was minded, and there her woe and pain grew ever stronger.

When now the high-born maiden sat in Hartmut’s hall, Where his men should crown her, then he bade them all To be forever faithful, and their goodwill to show her; So would she not forget them, but would enrich whoe’er should kindness do her.

Then spake the mother, Gerlind, old King Ludwig’s wife: “When will Gu-drun be ready to share young Hartmut’s life, Our youthful prince so noble, and in her arms to fold him? Of her his rank is worthy, and ne’er will she be sorry for her lord to hold him.”

Gu-drun to this had listened, the wretched, homeless maid; She said: “My Lady Gerlind, ’twould make you sad indeed If you must take in wedlock one who the lives had wasted Of many friends and kinsfolk; by toil for him your life were ever blasted.”

“This shall no one hinder,” to her then said the queen; “Gainsay his will no longer, let your love for him be seen, And on my head I pledge you that rich shall be your guerdon: If to be a queen you spurn not, you of my crown shall bear the happy burden.”

Then said the sorrowing maiden: “That will I never wear; Of all his wealth and greatness you the tale may spare. Your son, the knightly Hartmut, my love can ne’er be winning: Unwilling here I linger, and hence to go I day by day am pining.”

Then the youthful Hartmut, who of the land was lord, Was angry with the maiden when he her answer heard. He said: “If, then, to wed her the lady granteth never, So, also, to the fair one shall my goodwill and love be wanting ever.”

Then the wicked Gerlind to Hartmut said, in turn: “Ever the young and thoughtless from the wise should learn. Now leave to me this maiden, let me for her be caring, And I so well shall teach her that she will quickly drop her lofty bearing.”

“That will I grant you gladly,” Hartmut answering said; “Whate’er from this may follow, to you I give the maid, To have in your good keeping, as suits her rank and honor; The maid is sad and homeless; lady, ’tis right that kindly care be shown her.”

So Gu-drun, the fair one, when Hartmut went that day, Was left unto his mother, and given to her sway: But Hilda’s youthful daughter Gerlind’s guidance hated; She could not brook her teaching, and never her dislike for this abated.

Then to the lovely maiden the old she-devil spake: “If you will not live happy, then sorrow you must take. You have to heat my chamber; yourself the fire must kindle; See, there is none to help you, nor may you hope your toil will ever dwindle.”

The high-born maiden answered: “That I well can do; Whatever you shall bid me, in all must I yield to you, Until the God in heaven at last my wrongs has righted. Never my mother’s daughter the fire upon the hearth ere this has lighted.”

Said Gerlind: “As I’m living, to toil must you begin, As never queenly daughter to do before was seen. To be so proud and headstrong I will make you weary: Before to-morrow darkens, your maidens you must leave, and ne’er be merry.

“You hold yourself too highly, as I have heard it said; For this shall work most toilsome soon upon you be laid. This pride and froward bearing must be by you forsaken; Your lofty mood will I lower, and all your hopes will very quickly weaken.”

Then went the wicked Gerlind to court, in anger wild; She said to her son, young Hartmut: “Hettel’s wilful child Scorns both you and your kindred, and ever at us is sneering: Would we had never seen her, if we such talk from her must now be hearing.”

Then spake unto his mother Hartmut, the knight so brave: “Pray treat the maiden kindly, howe’er she may behave: So, for the care you show her, my thanks will you be earning. Greatly have I wronged her; it well may be that she my love is spurning.”

Then said to him old Gerlind: “Whate’er by us is done, In mood she is so stubborn that she will yield to none. Unless we treat her harshly she ne’er, as you would have her, Will come to you in wedlock; this must we do, or else to herself must leave her.”

Then to her thus answered the worthy Norman knight: “Good lady, show her kindness henceforth in all men’s sight, Now for the love you bear me; such care I beg you give her That from her love and friendship the king’s fair daughter may not bar me ever.”

Then his devilish mother, with anger brimming o’er, To the throng of Hegeling maidens quickly went once more. She said: “Make ready, maidens, and to your toil betake you, To do what you are bidden; the task to each that’s given ne’er forsake you.”

The maidens then were sundered, and soon from each other torn; They saw not one another, and long must live forlorn. Those who once so worthily lofty rank were taking, In winding yarn were busied; while they sat at work their hearts were aching.

Some her flax were combing, others for her must spin; Ladies of lofty breeding, whose pastime it had been On their silken clothing to lay, with skill unsparing, Gold and gems most costly, these for her now heavy toil were bearing.

The first in birth among them at the court was kept; Water she must carry to the room where Ortrun slept: To wait upon that lady the high-born maid was bidden; By name was she called Hergart; her lofty birth was nought, she still was chidden.

Among them was another, brought from Galicia’s strand; The griffin her from Portugal had borne to a far-off land. She to the Hegeling kingdom with Hagen’s child was carried, From over Ireland’s borders; now with the maids in the Norman land she tarried.

She was a prince’s daughter, who castles owned and lands; The fire must now be lighted by her, with fair white hands, While in the room well heated Gerlind’s ladies rested. For all the work she was doing no thanks on her by them were ever wasted.

Now you well may wonder to hear her sorry plight. For Gerlind’s lowest wenches she drudged both day and night; Whatever task they set her, to do must she be willing. It helped her not with the Normans that she at home a lofty rank was filling.

The work was mean and shameful that they were made to do For seven half years and over, —this is all too true,— Until the young Lord Hartmut, when three wars were ended, Had come again to his kingdom, and found the maids at work, and ill-befriended.

To see again his loved one Hartmut deeply yearned; But when he looked upon her, the truth he quickly learned, That she good food and lodging of late had seldom tasted: For choosing to live rightly, ’twas her reward to be with sorrow wasted.