The Nibelungenlied: The Lay of the Nibelungs (Oxford World's Classics)

by Cyril Edwards

  THIRTY-NINTH ADVENTURE

  HOW SIR DIETRICH FOUGHT WITH GUNTHER

  AND WITH HAGEN

  THEN Lord Dietrich himself sought out his armour. Master Hildebrant helped him arm himself. The mighty man lamented then so sorely that the hall echoed with the sound of his voice. Yet then he regained a true hero’s spirit. The worthy hero was armed in grim earnest. He took a sturdy shield in his hand. They soon set off, he and Master Hildebrant.

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  Hagen of Tronege then said: ‘I see Lord Dietrich walking towards us. He wants to attack us after the great sorrow that has befallen him here. Today we shall see who is to be reckoned the best. No matter how strong and how fearsome Lord Dietrich of Bern thinks himself, if he wants to wreak vengeance upon us for what has been done to him,’ said Hagen, ‘I have no fear of taking him on.’

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  Dietrich and Hildebrant heard what he said. Dietrich went over to where he found the two warriors standing outside the hall, leaning against the wall. Dietrich laid his good shield down at his feet. Full of sorrow, Dietrich then said: ‘Why have you acted thus, Gunther, powerful king, towards me in my exile? What wrong had I done you? I am bereft of all my hopes. You did not think our great anguish enough when you slew Rüedeger the hero. Now you have begrudged me all my men. I had not inflicted any such harm on you heroes. Think of yourselves and your grief, the death of your friends and your suffering—does it trouble your minds at all, worthy warriors? Alas, how deeply Rüedeger’s death grieves me! No greater grief ever befell any man in this world. You paid little heed to my woes and to your own. All those who brought me joy lie slain by you. I can never cease to lament over my kinsmen.’

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  ‘We are not so very much to blame,’ replied Hagen. ‘Your warriors walked to this hall, armed from top to toe, with such a large company. It seems to me that you have not been told the truth of the matter.’

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  ‘What else am I to believe? Hildebrant told me that when my warriors from the land of the Amelungs asked that you should hand them Rüedeger’s body out of the hall, you hurled nothing but scorn down at the bold heroes.’

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  Then the King of the Rhine said: ‘They said that they wanted to carry Rüedeger’s body away. I ordered that he be denied them,* as an affront to Etzel, and not to your men, but then Wolf hart started to hurl abuse at us.’

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  Then the hero of Bern said: ‘There is nothing else for it. Gunther, noble king, by your courtesy make me amends for the sorrows that have befallen me at your hands, and atone for them, bold knight, in

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  such a way that I can acknowledge it. Surrender yourself to me as my hostage, you and also your vassal. I will then prevent, as best as I may, anyone from harming you here among the Huns. You will find nothing but loyalty and goodwill in me.’

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  ‘Now God in Heaven forbid,’ said Hagen then, ‘that two knights should surrender themselves who still stand armed before you, ready to defend themselves, and still walking free before their foes.’

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  ‘You must not refuse this,’ were Dietrich’s words. ‘Gunther and Hagen, you have both grieved my heart and mind so sorely—if you would make amends to me, that would be right and proper. I swear

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  to you by my good faith, and give you my hand on it, that I will ride with you, home to your land. I’ll escort you honourably or die for it, and will, for your sake, forget my grievous anguish.’

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  ‘Have no further thought of that!’ replied Hagen. ‘It would ill befit us if the tale were to be told that two such bold men surrendered themselves to you. We see no one standing at your side now, except Hildebrant alone.’

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  Then Master Hildebrant said: ‘God knows, Sir Hagen, if anyone offers to agree upon a truce with you, the time may yet come when you would gladly have accepted it. You would do well to accept my lord’s truce.’

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  ‘Indeed, I would rather accept such a truce,’ replied Hagen, ‘than flee in such disgrace from a chamber as you, Master Hildebrant, have done here. I would have thought that you could have stood up better against your foes.’

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  Hildebrant answered: ‘Why do you reproach me for this? Now who was it who sat upon a shield before the Waskenstein, when Walther of Spain slew so many of his friends?* You yourself still have plenty to prove.’

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  Then Lord Dietrich said: ‘It does not befit heroes to scold one another like old women. I forbid you, Hildebrant, to say anything more. Grievous sorrows oppress me, exiled warrior that I am. Let me

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  hear,’ Dietrich went on, ‘warrior Hagen, what you two bold knights were saying when you saw me approach you, armed? You averred that you alone would take me on in single combat.’

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  ‘Indeed, no one will deny to you’, said Hagen the warrior, ‘that I’m willing to try battle with you here, with mighty blows, unless Nibelunc’s sword should be shattered in my hands. It angers me that we two are wanted as hostages here.’

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  When Dietrich heard how grim Hagen’s mood was, the bold and worthy warrior was quick to seize his shield. How swiftly Hagen leapt down the steps towards him! Nibelunc’s good sword rang out loudly as it struck down upon Dietrich. Sir Dietrich knew well that

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  the bold warrior was full of ferocity. The Lord of Bern raised his shield to protect himself against perilous blows. He knew Hagen, that most gallant warrior, well. Moreover he feared Balmunc, that sword

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  of great strength. Now and then Dietrich struck cunning blows in return, until, despite all, he overcame Hagen in battle. He struck him a wound which was deep and long.

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  Then Lord Dietrich thought: ‘You are exhausted by the peril you have endured. I’d gain little honour if you were to lie dead before me. I’ll try if I can compel you to be my hostage.’ That was done with difficulty. He let his shield fall. His strength was immense. He clasped

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  his arms about Hagen of Tronege. Thus the bold warrior was then vanquished by him. Noble Gunther was saddened by that.

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  Dietrich then tied Hagen in bonds and led him to the noble queen, and handed over to her the boldest warrior who ever bore a sword. She was amply pleased after the great grief she had suffered.

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  In joy Etzel’s wife bowed to the warrior: ‘Blessed forever be your body and soul! You have made good amends to me for all my anguish. I shall forever seek to repay you, unless death forestalls me.’

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  Then Lord Dietrich said: ‘You must let him live, noble queen, and if that may still be, how well he will atone to you for the wrongs he has done you! He must not pay the price for your seeing him standing in bonds.’

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  She then had Hagen led to no comfortable place, where he lay locked up and no one could see him. Gunther, that noble king, called out then: ‘Where has the hero of Bern gone? He has done me wrong!’

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  Lord Dietrich strode towards him then. Gunther’s valour was of great renown. He waited no longer then, but ran out of the hall. Loud clamour arose from the clash of their two swords. Although Lord

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  Dietrich had long been renowned, Gunther was greatly enraged and berserk, for after such great grief Dietrich was his heart’s foe.* They still account it a marvel that Sir Dietrich then survived. They

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  both possessed great courage and strength. The palace and towers echoed with the sound of their blows, as they hewed with their swords on their good helmets. King Gunther was in fine fettle.

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  Yet the Lord of Bern afterwards overcame him, as he had done Hagen before. They saw the blood flow through the hero’s mail because of the sharp sword that Dietrich bore. Sir
Gunther had defended himself in renowned fashion, weary as he was. That lord

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  was tied up by Dietrich’s hands, though kings should never suffer such bonds. He thought that if he let them go free, the king and his vassal, all that they found would have to die at their hands.

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  Dietrich of Bern took Gunther by the hand; he then led him in bonds over to Kriemhilt. His suffering then dispelled many of her sorrows. She said: ‘Welcome, Gunther of Burgundy!’

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  He said: ‘I would bow to you, my dearest sister, if your greeting might be more gracious. I know, queen, that you are of so wrathful a mind that you will greet myself and Hagen sparingly.’

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  Then the hero of Bern said: ‘Most noble king’s wife, there were never any greater hostages, never any such worthy knights, than these I have given you, noble lady. Now you must let these foreigners benefit by me.’

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  She said she’d willingly do so. Then Sir Dietrich, tears in his eyes, walked away from those renowned heroes. Afterwards Etzel’s wife took cruel revenge. She took the lives of both those excellent knights.

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  She had them lie separately, to cause them discomfort, neither of them ever beholding the other thereafter, until she took her brother’s head before Hagen. Kriemhilt wrought ample vengeance upon them both.

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  Then the queen went over to Hagen. With what great hostility she spoke to the hero! ‘If you will give me back what you have taken from me, you may yet return alive, home to Burgundy.’

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  Grim Hagen replied: ‘These are wasted words, most noble queen. Indeed I have sworn that I will not show where the hoard lies as long as any of my lords lives, and shall give it to no one.’

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  ‘I’ll put an end to this,’ said the noble woman. She gave the order that her brother be put to death. They struck off his head. Taking hold of it by his hair, she took it before the hero of Tronege. He was greatly grieved then.

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  When he saw his lord’s head, the angry warrior said to Kriemhilt: ‘You have put an end to things as you wished, and it has all turned out as I had thought. Now the noble King of Burgundy is dead, along

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  with young Giselher, and also Sir Gernot. No one knows now where the treasure is except God and myself—it will be well hidden from you forever, she-devil!’

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  She said: ‘You have given me an ill reward, but I will at least keep Sivrit’s sword. My dearly beloved wore it when I last saw him, when my heart’s grief befell me by your doing.’

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  She drew it from the scabbard—Hagen could not prevent it. Then, intent on robbing the warrior of his life, she raised it in her hands. She struck off his head. King Etzel saw that—he was greatly grieved.

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  ‘Alas!’ said the prince. ‘How is it that the very best warrior that ever entered battle or bore a shield now lies dead at a woman’s hands! Although he was my enemy, I am greatly grieved.’

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  Then old Hildebrant said: ‘She shall not profit by daring to slay him. No matter what happens to me in consequence, even though he brought me myself into dread peril, I will, nevertheless, avenge

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  the death of the bold man of Tronege.’ Hildebrant leapt angrily at Kriemhilt. He dealt the queen a blow with a swing of his heavy sword. Hildebrant caused her woe indeed. How could it help her that she screamed out so grievously?

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  Then all doomed to die there had fallen. The noble queen was hewn to pieces. Dietrich and Etzel began to weep. Fervently they mourned over both their kinsmen and vassals. Great glory lay dead

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  there. All the people were in misery and anguish. Amid sorrow the king’s festivity had ended, just as joy always, at the very end, yields to sorrow. I can’t tell you what happened afterwards there, except that knights and ladies were seen to weep, and noble squires, too, for the death of their dear friends. Here this tale is at an end—that is The Nibelungs’ Doom.*

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  APPENDIX I

  HISTORY AND LEGEND

  IT is a commonplace of the evolution of heroic epic that historical events are telescoped, reshaped, and distorted. Looking back to the Latin historiography concerned with the fifth and sixth centuries, we find little basis for the plot of the Nibelungenlied. A number of proper names can be identified with varying degrees of certainty. In the Lex Burgundionum, which dates back to the early sixth century, the author King Gundobad refers in the section De libertatibus servorum nostorum to his ancestors, naming Gibica, Gundomaris, Gislaharius, and Gundaharius.1 The first of these enters legend as Gibeche. A fifteenth-century modernization of the Nibelungenlied identifies Gibich as Gunther’s father,2 whereas in our thirteenth-century text Dancrat is named as the father of Gunther and his brothers, and Gibeche is a king at the court of the Huns, one of the assembly that greets Kriemhilt at Tulln. Gislaharius and Gundaharius are readily identifiable as Giselher and Gunther; Gundomaris may correspond to Gernot.

  The East Germanic tribe of the Burgundians appears to have moved west from the Rhine area; there have been attempts to link them with Worms, but there is no sound historical or archaeological evidence. As they pressed further west, they came into conflict with the Roman Empire. The accounts of the destruction of the Burgundians in the Late Antique chronicles are brief and somewhat conflicting. The anonymous Gallic Chronicle of 452 records how in the year 436 a memorable war against the Burgundians was fought, which led to the destruction of almost all the tribe and their king, at the hands of the Roman general Aetius.3 Prosper’s Epitoma Chronicon was composed between 435 and 455. It dates the battle to 435 and goes into more detail, emphasizing the role of the Huns: ‘At the same time Aëtius crushed Gundichar, who was king of the Burgundians and living in Gaul. In response to his entreaty, Aëtius gave him peace, which the king did not enjoy for long. For the Huns destroyed him and his people root and branch.’4 Thirdly, there is the chronicle of Hydatius, written in 468/9, which dates the battle to 436: ‘The Burgundians who had rebelled were vanquished by the Romans under the leadership of Aëtius.’5

  None of these accounts links the destruction of the Burgundians with Attila the Hun (d. 453), who invaded Gaul with a huge army in 451.6 Attila corresponds to Etzel in the Nibelungenlied, but the geography of events in the poem is diametrically opposed to that of the Hunnish invasion. Nor does Attila’s death by suffocation, after he had added to his wives a girl called Ildico (perhaps a Germanic name), have any correspondence to the events at the end of the Nibelungenlied. Blœdel(in), Attila’s brother, who is killed by Dancwart in the lay, corresponds to the historical figure of Bleda, who, according to the historian Jordanes, was murdered by Attila, his younger brother, c.445.7 The poet borrows historical names, but assigns to them an entirely different function from that suggested by historical record.

  Brunhild (Brunihildis, Brunichild) is well attested historically, the two main sources being Gregory of Tours’s Decem libri historiarum (translated by Lewis Thorpe as The History of the Franks) and the Chronicle Attributed to Fredegar, which dates from c.660; the latter draws heavily for its account of Brunhild on the Vita Columbani, written c.640. Neither of these offers a continuous narrative; the latter is much more negative in its portrayal of Brunhild, describing her as a ‘second Jezebel’. There are few points of contact between this historical queen and the Prünhilt in the Nibelungenlied. Brunhild, according to Gregory of Tours, was the daughter of Athanagild, the Visigothic king of Spain. Like her fictional counterpart she married a Burgundian king, Sigibert, King of the Franks.8 Sigibert was assassinated by emissaries of Fredegund, wife of his brother King chilperic. George Gillespie thinks it ‘very probable that the quarrel between the wife of Siegfried … and her brother’s wife, which leads to Siegfried’s murder, stems from the conflict between Brunihildis and Fredeg
unda after the murder of Brunihildis’s husband, the Merovingian Sigebert, in 575, but the historical roles of the women have been reversed in epic tradition’.9 Even such tentative speculation as this pushes against the limits of what is valid in drawing links between the historical sources and the evolution of the legend.

  There are three points of contact between the historical accounts and the lay: (1) Brunhild marries into the Burgundian royal family; (2) her husband is called Sigibert, as is his son in Fredegar’s account; the Sig- prefix is common in the Burgundian family, as it is in the Nibelungenlied in the family of Sivrit (a contraction of Sigfrit); (3) amid a general atmosphere of treachery, the historical Brunhild is responsible for several murders, while in the Nibelungenlied she is only (indirectly) responsible for one, that of Sivrit. The historical Brunhild meets with a grisly death, tortured for three days, then strapped side-on to an unbroken horse and cut to death by its hooves.10 In the Nibelungenlied she merely fades from the scene after the murder of Sivrit.

  Theodoric the Great, who figures in the lay as Dietrich von Bern (i.e. Verona), ruled the Ostrogothic Empire in Italy from 493 to 526, some forty years after the death of Attila. Dietrich’s role as an exile at the court of Attila figures in the Hildebrandslied, the Old High German heroic lay which dates from the early ninth century. In the thirteenth century Dietrich becomes the hero of the cycle of heroic epics, the Dietrichsepen.

  APPENDIX II

  THE NORDIC SOURCES AND THE PROBLEM OF GENESIS

  THE Lay of the Nibelungs has a large number of cognate texts which have been adduced in attempts to explain anomalies in the lay, and how it evolved. In this context it is only possible to scratch the surface. The main sources may be listed as follows:1

  1. The Prose Edda of Snorri Sturluson (1179–1241) has a brief account of the story of Sigurd, Brynhild, Gudrun (who corresponds in the Norse sources to Kriemhilt), and Atli (Etzel), in its treatise on poetic diction, the Skaldskaparmál.

  2. Poems in the Old Icelandic Poetic Edda, preserved in the Codex Regius, written down in the 1270s. These give accounts of Sigurd’s upbringing and the slaying of the dragon Fafnir; his betrothal to Brynhild and his marriage to Gudrun must be inferred as having been recounted in some poems contained in leaves missing from the manuscript. When the manuscript resumes, it tells of Sigurd’s death, instigated by his brothers-in-law, Gunnar and Högni. These short, often gnomic poems are Grípisspá (Gripir’s Prophecy); Reginsmál (The Lay of Regin); Fáfnismál (The Lay of Fafnir); Sigrdrífurmál (The Lay of Sigrdrifa); Brot af Sigurðarkviðu (Fragment of a Poem about Sigurd).