IV. THE WOOING OF BRUNHILD
After a favourable voyage they arrived at Isenstein, and rode up to the palace. Servants hastened to meet them and take their armour and horses. Hagen was at first unwilling to give up his horse and armour, but he yielded when Siegfried told him that such was the law and custom at Isenstein. The warriors entered the hall where Brunhild awaited them, clad in her royal robes. She greeted her guests with courtesy, and told the Nibelung hero how glad she was to see him again, as she had been told of his great deeds of valour; adding that she supposed he had come to enter the lists. Siegfried then informed her that he had only come as the comrade of King Gunther, his lord, who desired to try his fortune, and who was well worthy of the high prize of victory.
“This is news to me!” said the queen, “I always thought you were your own man, and owed no allegiance to another.”
Then, turning to King Gunther, she told him that she had also heard of his great deeds, and asked him who were the warriors that bore him company. Gunther answered with many thanks for her kind reception, and explained who and what his companions were. Brunhild laughed, and asked whether he intended to fight aided by his three comrades.
“No, I alone am to fight,” answered the king; “I alone compete for the great prize.”
“Very well,” said the lady, “the lists are open, prepare to do your best.”
The warriors were led into the castle court, where a wide space was enclosed for the combat. The queen’s serving-men surrounded it, well armed. One of these proclaimed in a loud voice:
“If any nobly-born warrior ventures to play the three-fold play with the queen, and gains the victory, she and her kingdom shall be his; but if he is conquered, his head and wealth belong to her.”
Four grooms now dragged a great stone into the lists, which the combatants were to “put” (throw). It was as large and heavy as a millstone. Three other men brought in the huge broadsword which the maiden was accustomed to fling.
“If the woman can play with such a thing as that,” said Hagen, “she is the devil’s bride. No son of man can win her!”
“If we only had our weapons,” cried Dankwart, “neither the king nor we need lose our lives.”
“Be of good courage, King Gunther,” said Siegfried, “I will fetch my cap of darkness from the ship, and will help you without any one seeing that I do so.”
He hastened away whilst all eyes were fixed upon the queen, who now entered the court, surrounded by her ladies, and clad in full armour.
“Is it right, noble queen,” said Hagen, “that your men should be armed, while we remain defenceless?”
“Bring the warriors their armour,” commanded Brunhild. Then turning to Hagen, she continued: “But, for all that, you must lose your lives here. If I conquer Gunther, as I have hitherto conquered all who have entered the lists with me, your heads will fall under the axe of yonder man.”
The heroes looked in the direction in which she pointed, and perceived a man clad in blood-red garments standing without the barrier holding a sharp axe in his hand.
The trial of strength began.
Brunhild went up to the stone, lifted it in both hands, and flung it the length of six fathoms. After which, she leapt forward with one spring as light as a bird, making the point of her foot touch the stone. This feat was greeted with applause. Then came a silence as of death. Gunther advanced. Aided by Siegfried’s strength, he lifted the stone, weighed it in one hand, and flung it a full fathom farther than the queen. It was a stronger hand than his that helped him both in this and in the leap that followed, which carried him beyond the stone.
In the first feat of strength, he was thus indisputably the conqueror.
Then Brunhild rose with flashing eyes, and seized the heavy spear with its sharp steel point.
“Now look to yourself, proud king,” she cried, and flung the weapon with such force that it crashed through his shield, and would have laid him prostrate had not Siegfried come to his aid by turning the point towards the edge of the shield instead of the centre. Then tearing it out of the broken shield, he turned the weapon so that the blunt end pointed at the queen, and guiding Gunther’s hand, Siegfried launched it at her. And immediately Brunhild fell backwards, her chain armour rattling with the force of her fall.
The combat was at an end, the victory won. Brunhild rose. She stood calmly before the people, accepting her fate; but whoever could have read her heart would have seen it full of shame, anger, and a wild thirst for vengeance. The notables of Isenland were summoned to appear at Isenstein within three days to take the oath of allegiance to Gunther. Brunhild begged the Burgundian warriors to remain her guests during that time. She asked where the Nibelung hero was, and when he stepped forward, and said that he had been busied about the ship and the sailors, she called him a faithless servant for not having been by while his master played so dangerous a game.
A great feast was made in the hall. Many ladies were present, but the queen remained in her own apartments. Gunther’s feelings were very mixed. He was ashamed not to have won the victory single-handed, and yet he was pleased at having gained his object. Hagen drained many a cup of wine, and watched the laughing warriors around with a grim look on his stern face. When the heroes of the Rhine were taken to their common chamber, Hagen advised them to see that their weapons were at hand, because he feared the queen was nursing some treacherous plan against them. Bold Siegfried answered that he would at once set out for the land of the Nibelungs, and return with an army of good men and true. He made his way to the ship unperceived in the darkness, and set sail for his own kingdom. Arrived there, he went straight to the dwarf Alberich who guarded the treasure, and desired him to call out a thousand well-armed men to go with him to Isenland. His commands were obeyed in an incredibly short time, and he and his troops set out to join his friends. On the third morning, he landed in front of the palace, to the great joy of the Burgundians. The queen, on the other hand, was anxious, not knowing what the arrival of so large a force might mean. But Gunther comforted her by explaining that Siegfried had brought over a band of his Nibelungs to do honour to him, the king.
During the next few days everything was arranged for the proper government of Isenland, and when Brunhild at length took leave of her people and her mother’s brother, who had been appointed governor, there was hardly a dry eye to be seen. The queen herself was not happy, for she felt sure she would never see her home again; but Gunther would not let her lose time, being anxious to get back to Worms to celebrate his marriage.
When the travellers arrived in Burgundy, they were received with great joy by every one. The Lady Ute welcomed Brunhild as a daughter, and Chriemhild kissed her, and promised to be a faithful sister to her. So the two maidens stood side by side: the one, grand, beautiful, and mysterious as a starlight night; the other, sweet, gentle, and lovely as a May morning. None looking at them could say which was the fairest. But Siegfried had no doubt. He never moved from Chriemhild’s side till they reached the castle.
That evening, Gunther asked Siegfried and Chriemhild if they were still of the same mind as before, and, finding that they were, announced that he would make preparations for a double wedding on the following day.
Brunhild sat at the feast that evening by Gunther’s side, pale and cold as marble, while Chriemhild sat smiling and whispering between her mother and her lover.
“King of Burgundy,” said Brunhild, at last, “I cannot understand why you give your sister in marriage to one of your vassals. She ought to be the wife of a great king.”
“Say not so,” answered Gunther; “Siegfried is as much a king as I am. He is king of the Nibelungs, and, after the death of his father Sigmund, the whole Netherlands will belong to him.”
“It is a strange story,” she said; “he told me himself that he was your man.”
“I will explain it all to you another time,” replied Gunther; “we’ll say no more about it just now.”
The double wedding took place next day. When the ceremony was over, the old queen showed her daughter-in-law all her possessions, and gave up to her all authority in the house.
“Ah, mother Ute,” said the young wife, “the Burgundians are rich in wealth and great in power; but they are poor in wisdom and weak in action, otherwise King Gunther never would have come to Isenland.”
Without waiting for an answer, she turned and left the room.
The feast was at an end, twilight had long fallen, and the guests all sought their beds. Gunther and his queen went to their private apartments. When he would have followed her into her room, she barred the way, saying,—
“This is no place for you; you can find a more fitting room elsewhere in the palace. If I permitted you to enter, I should lose my great strength.”
At first he tried entreaties, then threats, and lastly force. They wrestled together, but she very soon mastered him, bound him hand and foot, and left him lying outside the door. He did not sleep much that night.
Next morning, before the household was stirring, the proud queen loosed her husband’s bonds, desired him to hold his peace, and to respect her will in future. Gunther was sad at heart the whole day long; he looked at his wife with a feeling that was almost horror, and often left the feast to walk alone in the garden. Siegfried met him there, and asked what ailed him. When he heard the strange story, he cried:
“Be comforted, dear comrade; we have conquered this proud woman before, and I think we shall get the better of her again. I will follow you to-night, hidden under my cap of darkness, when you take the queen to her room. Blow out the candles and let me take your place. Then she shall have an opportunity of trying her great strength against me.”
“Ah, good comrade,” said Gunther, “I fear for your life. We did ill to bring her from Isenland to the sunny banks of the Rhine. She is a demon, as Hagen says, and has her marvellous strength from her friends the devils.”
“Well,” said Siegfried, “and even if a demon has taken up his abode in her heart, it shall go hard but we’ll get the better of him. I shall be with you to-night in my cap of darkness.”
The kings returned to the feast, Siegfried looking as cheerful as ever, while Gunther was bowed down by manifold cares and anxieties. At midnight Gunther led Brunhild to her room, blew out the candles, and immediately Siegfried took his place. The wrestling began, Brunhild pushed him between the wall and a cupboard, and tried to bind him with her girdle. She squeezed his hands till the blood spirted from under his nails. Such a wrestling-match was never seen between a man and a maid. He used all his hero-might, and pressed her into a corner of the room with such force, that, shivering and moaning, she entreated him not to kill her, and she would be an obedient wife. No sooner did Siegfried hear this than he slipped softly away, leaving Gunther alone with the queen.
The wedding festivities lasted eight days longer; then the guests took leave of their host, and went home with many rich gifts. Siegfried and his wife also made ready for their departure. The hero refused to take any dowry with his wife, for, in his opinion, the Nibelung treasure was wealth enough.
It was on a beautiful day that the travellers reached the Netherlands. King Sigmund and Queen Sigelinde came out to meet them, and received them with great joy. An assembly of the people was summoned to meet, and after a short speech from the throne, the old king and queen placed their crowns on the heads of Siegfried and Chriemhild. The people shouted, “Long live our young king and queen! May they reign as long and as happily as their forerunners!”
It seemed as if the people’s wish were to be realized, for years passed on, and all went well with the royal family. Queen Sigelinde had the great joy of holding a grandson in her arms. The child received the name of Gunther, in honour of his uncle in the distant Rhineland. And King Gunther, who had a son born about the same time, called the infant Siegfried. Not long after this the old queen was taken ill and died. This made a break in their domestic happiness; but still there was peace in the realm, and along its borders.
