Tale the Twentieth

No further will we tell you of how with these it fared, Or how the cloister-brothers their life together shared. Now to the tale of Hartmut we ask you all to listen; How he with many maidens, high-born and fair, unto his land did hasten.

After the fight was ended, as I have told before, For many there was sorrow for the bitter wounds they bore: Many who had fallen on the stormy field lay dying; Children bereft of fathers bewailed them soon with tears they ne’er were drying.

With heavy hearts the Normans were wafted o’er the flood; Every night and morning many a warrior good Felt ashamed and sorry, thus from the sands to be driven; So felt the old and the youthful, although in all things else they well had thriven.

They came to the Norman borders, unto King Ludwig’s land. It was a day of gladness to all the sailing band, To see at last their homesteads and thither to be steering. Then said one among them: “These are Hartmut’s towns that we are nearing.”

Helped by kindly breezes, soon they reached the shore. Now the men of Normandy happy hearts all bore, When to their wives and children they again were coming; Long had they been fearing that they must die, while they afar were roaming.

When now the glad King Ludwig did on his castles look, Thus the lordly Norman to Gu-drun, the maiden, spoke: “See you that palace, Lady? In bliss you may there be living; If you to us are kindly, our richest lands will we to you be giving.”

Then the high-born maiden thus made her sorrow known: “To whom should I feel kindly, when kindness none have shown? From that, alas! I’m sundered, and in my hopes am thwarted; Nothing I know but hardship, and all my weary days I spend sad-hearted.”

Then answered her King Ludwig: “Throw off this sorry mood, And give your love to Hartmut, a knight both brave and good. Whatever we are owning to give you we are willing; With one who is so worthy blest may you live, and lofty rank be filling.”

Then spake Hilda’s daughter: “Why leave me not in peace? Rather than wed with Hartmut death would I dread far less. That he should be my lover by birth he is not fitted; To lose my life were better than take his love and as his bride be greeted.”