How Margrave Rudeger Was Slain, XXXVI–LXX

Arm'd were to see with Rudeger five hundred men of might; Twelve besides went with him, each a prowest knight, Who hoped to win them worship on that fierce Rhenish band. Little thought the warriors, how close was Death at hand.

So to war the margrave under helmet strode; Sharpest swords his meiny brandish'd as they rode; Each in hand, bright-flashing, held his shield before. That saw the dauntless minstrel and seeing sorrow'd sore.

Then too was by young Giselher his lady's father seen With helm laced as for battle; "What," thought he, "can he mean? But naught can mean the margrave but what is just and right." At the thought full joyous wax'd the youthful knight.

"Well's me with friends so faithful," Sir Giselher 'gan say, "These, whom by happy fortune we gain'd upon the way. My late-espoused lady will stand us in good stead. In sooth it much contents me, that e'er I came to wed."

"I know not what you trust in;" thus the stern minstrel spake; "Where saw you warriors ever for reconcilement's sake With helmets laced advancing, and naked swords in hand? On us will earn Sir Rudeger his castles and his land."

Scarcely the valiant minstrel his words had utter'd all, When the noble Rudeger was close before the hall. His shield, well prov'd in battle, before his feet he laid, But neither proferr'd service, nor friendly greeting made.

To those within he shouted, "Look not for succor hence; Ye valiant Nibelungers, now stand on your defence. I'd fain have been your comrade; your foe I now must be. We once were friends together; now from that bond I'm free."

The hard-beset Burgundians to hear his words were woe. Was not a man among them, but sorrow'd, high and low, That thus a friend and comrade would 'gainst them mingle blows, When they so much already had suffer'd from their foes.

"Now God forbid," said Gunther, "that such a knight as you To the faith, wherein we trusted, should ever prove untrue, And turn upon his comrades in such an hour as this. Ne'er can I think that Rudeger can do so much amiss."

"I can't go back," said Rudeger, "the deadly die is cast; I must with you do battle; to that my word is past. So each of you defend him as he loves his life. I must perform my promise, so wills King Etzel's wife,"

Said Gunther, "This renouncement comes all too late to-day. May God, right noble Rudeger, you for the favors pay Which you so oft have done us, if e'en unto the end To those, who ever lov'd you, you show yourself a friend.

"Ever shall we be your servants for all you've deign'd to give, Both I and my good kinsmen, if by your aid we live. Your precious gifts, fair tokens of love and friendship dear, Given when you brought us hither, now think of them, good Rudeger!"

"How fain that would I grant you!" the noble knight replied; "Would that my gifts forever might in your hands abide, I'd fain in all assist you, that life concerns or fame, But that I fear, so doing, to get reproach and shame."

"Think not of that, good Rudeger," said Gernot, "in such need. Sure host ne'er guests entreated so well in word or deed, As you did us, your comrades, when late with you we stay'd. If hence alive you bring us, 'twill be in full repaid."

"Now would to God! Sir Gernot," said Rudeger ill bestead, "That you were safe in Rhineland, and I with honor dead! Now must I fight against you to serve your sister's ends. Sure never yet were strangers entreated worse by friends."

"Sir Rudeger," answer'd Gernot, "God's blessing wait on you For all your gorgeous presents! your death I sore should rue, Should that pure virtue perish, which ill the world can spare. Your sword, which late you gave me, here by my side I wear.

"It never once has failed me in all this bloody fray; Lifeless beneath its edges many a good champion lay. Most perfect is its temper; 'tis sharp and strong as bright; Knight sure a gift so goodly will give no more to knight.

"Yet, should you not go backward, but turn our foe to-day, If of the friends around me in hostile mood you slay, With your own sword, good Rudeger, I need must take your life, Though you (heaven knows) I pity, and your good and noble wife."

"Ah! would to heaven, Sir Gernot, that it might e'en be so! That e'en as you would wish it this matter all might go, And your good friends 'scape harmless from this abhorréd strife! Then sure should trust in Gernot my daughter and my wife."

With that, the bold Burgundian, fair Uta's youngest, cried, "Why do you thus, Sir Rudeger? my friends here by my side All love you, e'en as I do; why kindle strife so wild? 'Tis ill so soon to widow your late-betrothed child.

"Should you now and your followers wage war upon me here, How cruel and unfriendly 'twill to the world appear! For more than on all others on you I still relied, And took, through such affiance, your daughter for my bride."

"Fair king! thy troth remember," the blameless knight 'gan say, "Should God be pleas'd in safety to send thee hence away. Let not the maiden suffer for aught that I do ill. By your own princely virtue vouchsafe her favor still."

"That will I do and gladly," the youthful knight replied, "But should my high-born kinsmen, who here within abide, Once die by thee, no longer could I thy friend be styl'd; My constant love 'twould sever from thee and from thy child."

"Then God have mercy on us!" the valiant margrave said. At once their shields they lifted, and forward fiercely sped In the hall of Kriemhild to force the stranger crowd. Thereat down from the stair-head Sir Hagan shouted loud,

"Tarry yet a little, right noble Rudeger! I and my lords a moment would yet with you confer; Thereto hard need compels us, and danger gathering nigh; What boot were it for Etzel though here forlorn we die?

"I'm now," pursued Sir Hagan, "beset with grievous care; The shield that Lady Gotelind gave me late to bear, Is hewn and all-to broken by many a Hunnish brand. I brought it fair and friendly hither to Etzel's land.

"Ah! that to me this favor heaven would be pleas'd to yield That I might to defend me bear so well-prov'd a shield, As that, right noble Rudeger, before thee now display'd! No more should I in battle need then the hauberk's aid."

"Fain with the same I'd serve thee to th' height of thy desire, But that I fear, such proffer might waken Kriemhild's ire. Still, take it to thee, Hagan, and wield it well in hand. Ah! might'st thou bring it with thee to thy Burgundian land!"

While thus with words so courteous so fair a gift he sped, The eyes of many a champion with scalding tears were red. 'Twas the last gift, that buckler, e'er given to comrade dear By the Lord of Bechlaren, the blameless Rudeger.

However stern was Hagan, and of unyielding mood, Still at the gift he melted, which one so great and good Gave in his last few moments, e'en on the eve of fight, And with the stubborn warrior mourn'd many a noble knight.

"Now God in heaven, good Rudeger, thy recompenser be! Your like on earth, I'm certain, we never more shall see, Who gifts so good and gorgeous to homeless wanderers give. May God protect your virtue, that it may ever live!

"Alas! this bloody business!" Sir Hagan then went on, "We have had to bear much sorrow, and more shall have anon. Must friend with friend do battle, nor heaven the conflict part?" The noble margrave answer'd, "That wounds my inmost heart."

"Now for thy gift I'll quit thee, right noble Rudeger! Whate'er may chance between thee and my bold comrades here, My hand shall touch thee never amidst the heady fight, Not e'en if thou should'st slaughter every Burgundian knight."

For that to him bow'd courteous the blameless Rudeger. Then all around were weeping for grief and doleful drear, Since none th' approaching mischief had hope to turn aside. The father of all virtue in that good margrave died.

Then from the house call'd Folker, the minstrel good at need, "Now that my comrade Hagan has to this truce agreed, From my hand too, Sir Rudeger, take firm and sure the same. You've ever well deserv'd it since to this land we came.