The strangers, until morning, right gallantly had done.
By then Gotlinda’s husband unto the court had gone,
And, looking round on all sides, he saw such horrors there
As moved to inward weeping true-hearted Rüdeger.

“Woe’s me,” then said the warrior, “that e’er I saw the day!
To think that none availeth this misery to stay!
Though peace would I make gladly, the king will ne’er agree,
For more and more he dwelleth upon his injury.”

Good Rüdeger inquiring straightway to Dietrich sent,
If they might make between them the noble king relent.
But he of Bern made answer: “Who could avail thereto?
King Etzel wills that no one should come betwixt the two.”

Now by a Hunnish warrior Sir Rüdeger was seen
With eyes bedimm’d with weeping, as they for long had been.
Unto the queen then spake he: “Now look how standeth he⁠—
The man who hath with Etzel the most authority,

“And who hath at his service the people and the land.
How many a castle is there in Rüdeger’s command,
Of which, through the king’s bounty, so many he may own!
Yet he throughout this struggle no worthy stroke hath done.

“Methinks he little recketh if things go well or ill,
As long as he hath all things according to his will.
’Tis said that he is braver than other men mote be:
But that, in all this trouble, hath been full hard to see.”

The warrior true-hearted, with downcast mood and grim,
Gave heed unto the speaker. The hero look’d on him,
And thought: “This shalt thou pay for! Thou say’st I am afraid?
Thou hast at court thy story somewhat too loudly said.”

His fists to clench began he, and at him straight he ran,
And smote to such good purpose upon that Hunnish man
That lifeless on the instant him at his feet he laid.
But thus King Etzel’s troubles were all the greater made.

“Away with thee, base scoundrel!” thereon said Rüdeger;
“Of trouble and of sorrow I have enough to bear!
If I refrain from fighting, why tauntest me for that?
In sooth I have good reason to bear the strangers hate,

“And all that strength avail’d me I had against them wrought,
Were’t not that I the warriors myself have hither brought.
’Twas I, in sooth, who led them into my master’s land:
I cannot raise against them, therefore, my luckless hand.”

Then answer to the margrave the great King Etzel made:
“O Rüdeger most noble, how hast thou lent us aid!
So many dead already we in the land must own,
No more of them were needed! much evil hast thou done.”

The noble knight made answer: “The fellow made me wroth
By casting up against me the wealth and honour both
That by thy hands so freely have been bestow’d on me:
The liar got his guerdon a whit unluckily.”

Now came the queen unto them, who eke had plainly seen
What, through the hero’s anger, the Hun’s reward had been.
Beyond all bounds complain’d she; tears from her eyes she shed.
To Rüdeger thus spake she: “How have we merited

“That you the king’s misfortune and mine make all the more?
At all times, noble Rüdeger, you promised heretofore
That you would in our service risk honour and eke life.
I’ve heard the knights award you the meed in many a strife.

“The goodwill that you pledged me to you I will recall
When me you urged on Etzel, O knight excelling all,
To wit, that you would serve me till one of us was dead;
And ne’er had I, poor woman, thereof such desperate need.

“In that thou speak’st not falsely; I pledged thee, noble dame,
That I for thee would venture my life and my fair fame.
To lose my soul, however, that sware I not at all:
I brought these high-born princes unto this festival!”

“O Rüdeger,” she answer’d, “thy steadfast loyalty
And eke thine oath forget not, that thou mine injury
Wouldst cease not to avenge me, and all my trouble sore.”
Then said to her the margrave: “I ne’er have fail’d before.”

Then likewise mighty Etzel to supplicate began,
And on their knees before him they two besought the man.
Then seem’d the noble margrave sorely discomfited.
The ever faithful warrior right sorrowfully said:

“Now God have pity on me, that I have lived for this!
Henceforward all mine honour I must for aye dismiss⁠—
My truth and noble breeding that erst from God I got!
Woe on me, God in Heaven, that death hath saved me not!

“Whichever side I part from to take the other one,
I shall have acted basely and grievous ill have done;
But if from both I sever, on all sides blame I have:
May He vouchsafe to guide me Who life unto me gave.”

Yet still they urged him straitly, the king and eke his wife.
Thence came it many a warrior ere long must lose his life
By Rüdeger’s achieving; till eke that hero fell.
Now of his direful doing I must the story tell.

He knew how this must evil and fearful sorrow bring,
And liefer would he therefore denial to the king,
And eke the queen, have given: full sorely fear’d he that
If e’er a guest he slaughter’d, the world would bear him hate.

Unto the king then spake he⁠— that man of spirit bold:
“Lord king, take back whatever from thee I have and hold,
Both land and burghs: with neither will I have aught to do,
But on my feet departing, will into exile go.”

Then spake the royal Etzel: “Who then will succour me?
The land as well as castles all will I give to thee,
If thou upon my foemen avenge me, Rüdeger.
Thou’lt be a mighty sovran, of Etzel nigh the peer.”

But Rüdeger made answer: “How could I this essay?
At home within my dwelling I bade them come and stay;
Of drink and meat I offer’d to them in kindly wise,
And gave them gifts: how can I now death for them devise?

“The folk belike are thinking that I am cowardly!
My services in nothing to them did I deny⁠—
Or to the noble princes, or any of their men⁠—
That we are knit in friendship repenteth me amain.

“I gave away my daughter to Giselher the thane,
In all the world she could not have look’d for better gain
In honour or good breeding, in truth or worldly gear;
I ne’er saw prince so youthful in virtuous mind his peer.”

But yet again spake Kriemhild: “Right noble Rüdeger,
Now let our grievous trouble for both your pity stir,
For me and the king also; and bear ye well in mind
That never host was fated such baleful guests to find.”

Then to the noble lady the margrave answer made:
“To-day, with life, must ransom by Rüdeger be paid
For what to me of kindness thou and my lord have shown:
For that cause I must perish⁠— and it must now be done.

“This very day, well know I, my castles and my land
Must, ownerless, fall to you, through what ye now command.
My wife and child commend I unto your gracious care,
And eke the hapless people that at Bechlaren are.”

“Now Rüdeger, God bless thee!” the king in answer said;
He and the queen together exceeding glad were made:
“Right well unto thy people our care we both will give,
Though if good luck be with me I trust thou yet mayst live.”

And so upon the venture body and soul he cast;
Whereon the wife of Etzel began to weep at last.
Said he: “What I have promised I must to you fulfil;⁠—
Woe for my friends, whose foeman I am against my will.”

Then from the king one saw him depart in mournful mood.
And to his warriors turning, who close beside him stood,
He spake: “To don your armour ’tis time, my liegemen all,
On yonder brave Burgundians, alas! I needs must fall.”

They bade their folk then hasten to where their arms were found⁠—
Haply it were a helmet, or else a buckler round⁠—
Whatever it was they wanted, their servants brought the same
Ere long the baleful tidings to the proud exiles came.

So Rüdeger in armour with men five hundred went,
Besides a dozen warriors who help unto him lent.
These would the meed of valour win in the stormy fray;⁠—
They had but little warning that death so near them lay.

Then Rüdeger in helmet one saw march on before;
Keen-edged were all the weapons the margrave’s liegemen bore
And broad the shining bucklers upon their arms as well.
’Twas all seen by the fiddler: sore ruth upon him fell.

Young Giselher beheld, too, the father of his bride
With fast-bound helmet marching. That this could aught betide
Save what was good and friendly, how could he then forbode.
The noble prince was therefore exceeding glad of mood.

“Now suchlike friends be welcome,” said Giselher the thane,
“Which we upon our journey have had the luck to gain.
Of my betrothèd lady we’ll profit here right well:
I’m glad, upon my honour, this plighting e’er befell.”

“I know not what doth cheer you,” the minstrel answer made:
“When saw you e’er for friendship so many knights array’d,
With fasten’d helmets marching, and bearing sword in hand?
By us will Rüdeger pay for his castles and his land.”

E’en as the fiddle-player of speaking made an end,
One saw the noble Rüdeger before the palace wend.
His goodly shield he lower’d and set before his feet:
He could not offer service, his friends he might not greet.

Then cried the noble margrave to those within the hall:
“Be on your guard, I warn you, ye valiant Niblungs all!
Ye should have had my succour, now must ye ransom me;
Once were we friends; now will I be from the troth-pledge free.”

They shudder’d at these tidings, those sorely troubled men;
For them but little comfort there was therefrom to gain,
Since he would fight against them whom they had held so dear!
From foes they had already had mickle ills to bear.

“Now grant it, God in Heaven,” the warrior Gunther said;
“That you will let your pity be movèd to our aid,
And that abounding honour which hope unto us gave;
Much liefer would I trust you thus never to behave.”

“I can in nowise help it,” the brave man said thereto;
“In battle I must meet you, since so I swore to do.
Now guard yourselves, bold heroes, as ye your lives hold dear:
From me the wife of Etzel would no refusal hear.”

“Too late dost thou forswear us,” the great king answer made;
“Thou, Rüdeger most noble, by God shalt be repaid
For all the love and fealty that thou to us hast shown⁠—
If thou wilt in thy kindness still to the end go on.

“And we’ll be aye beholden, for all that thou didst give,
Myself and eke my kinsfolk, if thou’lt but let us live;
Those precious gifts thou gavest, what time, in good faith, here
To Etzel’s land thou ledst us: think of it, Rüdeger!”

“How gladly would I do it,” said Rüdeger the thane;
“As willingly at this time as ever I was fain
My gifts in full abundance upon you to bestow;
No blame should I thereover e’er need to undergo.”

“Then have thy way,” said Gernot, “O noble Rüdeger!
For never yet to strangers a welcome kindlier
By any host was bidden than thou to us didst give:
Of that thou hast the profit if we should longer live.”

“Would God, most noble Gernot,” said Rüdeger again,
“That ye were back in Rhineland, and I myself were slain
With some degree of honour⁠— since I with you must fight!
From friends have heroes never suffer’d such foul despite.”

“Now God reward thee, Rüdeger,” spake Gernot in reply,
“For those rich gifts thou gavest: I grieve that thou shouldst die.
If with thee there must perish a mind so virtuous too;⁠—
Here carry I the weapon thou gavest me, hero true!

“And never hath it fail’d me in all this struggle dread,
And many a knight hath fallen, beneath its edges, dead.
Strong is it and well-temper’d, a good and handsome blade;
I ween a gift so worthy by knight will ne’er be made.

“And should we not persuade thee to come unto our side,
If friends of mine thou slayest who still within abide,
With thine own sword I’ll smite thee and take away thy life:
Thee, Rüdeger, I pity, and eke thy noble wife.”

“Now would to God, Sir Gernot, that thus it e’en might be,
That all your will and purpose might be fulfill’d on me,
Whereby your kinsmen longer might yet enjoy their life!
Ay! gladly would I trust you with daughter and with wife.”

Then spake the young Burgundian, the child of Uté fair:
“Why do you thus, Sir Rüdeger? All these who with me are
To you are well-disposèd; an evil course you take;
Your daughter fair too early a widow you will make.

“If you and your retainers in strife contend with me,
How grievously unfriendly will that appear to be!
In that beyond all others my faith in you I laid⁠—
In such wise that your daughter my wife I would have made.”

“Unto your pledge be faithful, O prince of noble race,”
Said Rüdeger, “if haply God send you from this place;
Suffer not that the maiden for me atonement make;
Be pitiful towards her, for your own virtue’s sake.”

“That would I do right gladly,” young Giselher replied:
“But these my high-born kinsmen who still are here inside,
If they at your hands perish, the friendship firmly knit
With you and eke your daughter by me must be acquit.”

“Then God have mercy on us!” the gallant warrior spake.
Thereon they raised their bucklers, as though a way to make,
By force, unto the strangers within Kriemhilda’s hall.
Then loudly from the stairway was Hagen heard to call:

“Now for a while yet tarry, most noble Rüdeger;”
Such were the words of Hagen: “we would again confer⁠—
Myself and eke my masters⁠— forced by necessity:
How will it profit Etzel if we poor exiles die?

“I am in grievous trouble,” yet Hagen said, “the shield
That Lady Gotelinda gave me as mine to wield,
The Huns for me have batter’d and hack’d it out of hand:
In friendliness I brought it unto King Etzel’s land.

“If so be God in heaven would grant me of His grace
To hold as good a buckler once more before my face,
As that which thou dost handle, right noble Rüdeger,
No longer in the combat need I a hauberk wear.”

“Right gladly would I serve thee as touching this my shield,
Durst I make thee the offer in spite of Dame Kriemhild.
But do thou take it, Hagen, and bear it on thine hand;
Ay! what if thou shouldst bring it to thy Burgundian land!”

When he to give the buckler so readily agreed,
Then were there eyes in plenty that with hot tears were red.
Of gifts it was the latest that unto warrior e’er
By Rüdeger was given, the lord of Bechelar.

How fierce soe’er was Hagen, however hard in mood,
Yet stirr’d that gift his pity, with which the warrior good,
So nigh to his last moments, had freely him endow’d;
And with him fell to weeping full many a chieftain proud.

“Now God in Heaven reward thee, most noble Rüdeger;
The like of thee will never be met with anywhere,
Who unto exiled warriors so royally dost give:
God grant that all thy virtue for evermore may live.”

“Woe’s me for this betiding!” said Hagen yet again:
“We’ve had to bear already so great a load of pain,
Must we with friends be striving? Now God our refuge be!”
Then made the margrave answer: “It grieves me bitterly.”

“Your gift I’ll now requite you, most noble Rüdeger⁠—
Howe’er these high-born warriors themselves towards you bear⁠—
To wit that here in battle you ne’er shall feel my hand,
Though all by you should perish of the Burgundian land.”

In courtly wise he bent him, the worthy Rüdeger;
On all sides they were weeping that such heart-sorrows were
By no one to be mended:⁠— a dread necessity!
The father of all virtues in Rüdeger would die.

Then from the house-door speaking the minstrel Volker said:
“Since my companion Hagen a truce with you has made,
To you I also promise safe-conduct from my hand;
For well have you deserved it since came we to the land.

“You must, most noble margrave, be messenger of mine.
These ruddy golden armlets gave me the margravine,
That I should surely wear them here at the revelry:
You must yourself behold them and witness bear for me.”

“Would God in Heaven allow it,” then answer’d Rüdeger,
“The margravine should give you still more of such to wear!
Unto my wife your message right gladly will I give⁠—
Thereof be ye not doubtful⁠— if I to see her live.”

And even whilst he promised, his buckler Rüdeger
Raised: and in mood of madness no longer could forbear,
But rush’d upon the strangers⁠— a very warrior now;
And fast the mighty margrave dealt round him many a blow.

Aloof together standing Volker and Hagen stay’d,
According to the promise the warriors twain had made.
Yet more, as gallant, found he waiting beside the door;
Whence Rüdeger the battle began with trouble sore.

With murderous intention he was allow’d therein
By Gunther and by Gernot, who heroes should have been.
But Giselher aside stood, so great his sorrows were;⁠—
For life he hoped, and therefore avoided Rüdeger.

Anon the margrave’s liegemen rush’d forth upon the foe;
Like warriors true one saw them after their leader go;
They bore their keen-edged weapons ready in hand to wield,
And many a helm they shatter’d and many a noble shield.

Many the swift strokes also the weary warriors spent
On him of Bechelaren, that straight and surely went
Right through the bright mail armour, nigh to the very life;
And glorious deeds of daring achieved they in that strife.

When Rüdeger’s noble comrades within had made their way,
Volker along with Hagen rush’d swiftly to the fray:
They gave to no one quarter, save to that single man.
The blood through helmets, shatter’d by hands of either, ran.

How grimly in that chamber the clang of swords uprose,
And many of the shield-plates sprang off beneath their blows;
The jewels hack’d from off them fell on the bloody floor.
In such grim humour fought they as might be never more.

The lord of Bechelaren went up and down the hall,
As one who might in battle by strength accomplish all.
By Rüdeger’s achievements that day it might be told
He was indeed a warrior, right praiseworthy and bold.

Here also stood those warriors Gunther and Gernot too,
Who in the stress of battle full many a hero slew;
And Giselher and Dankwart⁠— the twain reck’d not for aught⁠—
And so full many a warrior unto his last day brought.

Well Rüdeger bore witness that he was strong enow,
And brave, with proven armour; what heroes laid he low!
’Twas seen by a Burgundian: wrath strove within him deep.
On Rüdeger the noble then death began to creep.

Stout Gernot ’twas, who loudly the hero challenged then.
He cried unto the margrave: “Wilt thou of all my men
Not one unscathèd leave me, most noble Rüdeger?
It moves me beyond measure; the sight I cannot bear.

“Now lo! the gift you gave me to your own ruin tends,
Since you have taken from me so many of my friends.
Now turn towards me hither, thou noble, gallant man,
I’ll make your gift avail me with all the skill I can.”

Or ever that the margrave had won his way to him,
Mail coats that erst were shining must needs be spoilt and dim.
Then either at the other, thirsting for honour, ran;
And each to guard his body from deadly wounds began.

Yet smote their swords so keenly, against them all was vain.
And then was Gernot stricken by Rüdeger the thane
Athwart his flint-like helmet, till downward flow’d the blood;
All in a trice repaid him that gallant knight and good.

Aloft the gift of Rüdeger in hand he swung: and though
His own wound, too, was deadly, he dealt on him a blow
Right through his stalwart buckler unto his helmet’s slot.
The fair Gotlinda’s husband fell dead upon the spot.

In sooth a gift so precious was worse requited ne’er;
The two fell slain together, Gernot and Rüdeger,
Like-fated in the combat, each by the other’s stroke.
When this great loss to Hagen was known, his wrath outbroke.

Thus spake the Tronian hero: “In evil plight are we!
In these two have we suffer’d so great an injury
As ne’er can be o’ertided by peoples or by lands;
Now hold we Rüdeger’s chieftains as bail in luckless hands.”

“Woe on me for my brother, who here in death doth lie!
How cometh, every moment, some tale of misery!
And I must mourn for ever the noble Rüdeger:
The loss to me is double, and grievous ’tis to bear.”

So Giselher, beholding his lady’s father dead:⁠—
And they who still were living a grievous reckoning paid,
Death fell upon them sorely seeking to take his own;
Of them from Bechelaren there lived ere long not one.

Now Giselher and Gunther and with them Hagen too,
Dankwart and Volker also⁠— all warriors good and true⁠—
Came forward all together, to where the twain were laid:
Then was there by the heroes great lamentation made.

“Death sorely us despoileth,” spake the lad Giselher:
“But make an end of weeping, and get we to the air
To cool our mail-clad bodies, worn as we are with strife;
Here God, I ween, will grant us but scanty spell of life.”

Some sitting, others leaning, one saw there many a thane.
They once again were idle: and round about them, slain,
Lay Rüdeger’s companions. The uproar all was laid.
So long the silence lasted, that Etzel grew afraid.

“Woe on me for such service!” then spake the royal wife:
“These folk are not so trusty that on our foeman’s life
Shall vengeance due be taken by Rüdeger’s command:
He means to take them safely back to Burgundian land.

“What boots it us, King Etzel, that we with him and his
Have shared whate’er he wanted? The chief hath done amiss:
He who should wreak our vengeance, doth wish a peace to gain.”
Thereunto answer’d Volker, the all-accomplish’d thane:

“Not so, alas! the story, most noble queen, I rede;
And, dare I charge with falsehood a dame so nobly bred,
Thee, devilishly lying of Rüdeger, I heard;
For he and his companions from peace have sorely err’d.

“That which the king commanded he did so zealously,
That he and all his people dead in yon chamber lie.
Now cast about, Kriemhilda, on errands whom to send!
For Rüdeger the hero hath served thee to the end.

“And wilt thou not believe me, see it thou shalt anon!”
And to her heartfelt sorrow so was it straightway done:
They bore the mangled hero before the king and queen.
The thanes of Etzel never so sad a sight had seen.

When they beheld the margrave thus borne before them dead,
No penman could have written, nor elsewise could be said,
How manifold the mourning of women and of men,
Who one and all bore witness unto their heartfelt pain.

The sorrowing of Etzel so great was, that the noise
Was even as a lion’s⁠— the mighty king his voice
So lifted in his anguish: eke mourn’d his wife no less:
Good Rüdeger bewail’d they with utmost bitterness.