In his old age he and many of his subjects turned to the Christian faith. One of those that were baptized along with him was Master Hildebrand, who died soon after his conversion, being either one hundred and eighty or two hundred years old. Theodoric's wife, Herauda, died also about this time, a good woman and much loved of the people for all her gracious deeds, even as her cousin, Erka, had been loved by the Huns. After Herauda's death Theodoric married Isold, widow of Hertnit, King of Bergara, [180] whose husband had been slain by a terrible dragon, which Theodoric vanquished. She was fair to look upon and wise of heart.
Footnote 180:[ (return) ] Identified by Von der Hagen with Garda; but is it not Bulgaria?
And after these things it came to pass that old King Attila died, being enticed by Aldrian, the son of Hagen, into the cave where the great Nibelung hoard lay hidden. And when he was in the recesses of the mountain, gloating over the wondrous treasure, Aldrian passed swiftly forth and closed the doors of the cave and left him to perish of hunger in the midst of the greatest treasure that was in the world. Thus Aldrian avenged the death of his father and of all the Nibelungs. But Theodoric was made king over Hun-land by the help of his friends in that realm, and thus he became the mightiest king in the world.
Of all his old warriors only Heime was left, and Heime had buried himself in a convent, where he sang psalms every day with the monks, and did penance for his sins. Theodoric, hearing that he was there, sought him out, but long time Heime denied that he was Heime. "Much snow has fallen", said Theodoric, "on my head and on thine since our steeds drank the stream dry in Friesland. Our hair was then yellow as gold, and fell in curls over our shoulders; now is it white as a dove". And then he plied him with one memory after another of the joyous old times of the battle and the banquet, till at length Heime confessed, and said: "Good lord Theodoric, I do remember all of which thou hast spoken, and now will I go forth with thee from this place". And with that he fetched his armour from the convent-chest, and his good old steed Rispa from the convent-stable, and once more rode gladly after his lord. After doing many more brave deeds, he fell in battle with a giant, the biggest and clumsiest of his tribe. Theodoric, riding forth alone, sought out the giant's lair, and with his good sword Ecke-sax avenged the death of his friend; and that was the last battle that the son of Dietmar fought with mortal foe.
The years of Theodoric's old age were given to the chase of the beasts of the forest, for he was still a mighty hunter when his other strength was gone. [181]
Footnote 181:[ (return) ] It is probably the following legend that is commemorated on the façade of the church of S. Zenone of Verona, where Theodoric is represented as chasing a stag and met by the Devil.
One day as he was bathing at the place which is still called "Theodoric's Bath", a groom called out to him: "My lord! a stag has just rushed past, the greatest and the finest that ever I saw in my life". With that Theodoric wrapped a bathing-cloak round him, and calling for his horse, prepared to set off in chase of the stag. The horse was long in coming, and meanwhile a mighty steed, coal-black, suddenly appeared before him. Theodoric sprang upon the strange charger's back, and it flew off with him as swiftly as a bird. His best groom on his best horse followed vainly behind. "My lord", cried he, "when wilt thou come back, that thou ridest so fast and far". But Theodoric knew by this time that it was no earthly steed that he was bestriding, and from which he vainly tried to unclasp his legs. "I am ill-mounted", cried he to the groom. "This must be the foul fiend on which I ride. Yet will I return, if God wills and Holy Mary". With that he vanished from his servant's sight, and since then no man has seen and no man ever will see Theodoric of Verona. Yet some German minstrels say that it has been opened to them in dreams that he has found grace at last, because in his death-ride he called on the names of God and the Virgin Mary. [182]
Footnote 182:[ (return) ] Another version of the "Wilkina-Saga" gives a different account of the death of Theodoric. According to this, Witig, after he sank in the lake, was received by his mermaid ancestress and borne away to Zealand. Here he abode a long time, till he heard of the return and recovered might of Theodoric. Then, fearing his resentment, he betook himself to a certain island, and having made an image of Theodoric, laid a strict charge upon the boatman who ferried passengers across that he should carry over none who was like that image. Theodoric, hearing that Witig yet lived in Denmark, went thither, and, having disfigured himself so that the boatman did not recognise him, found Witig (whose sword Mimung he had hidden away), and challenged him to single combat. The battle of the boys was thus renewed between the two snow-bearded men, and was fatal to both. Witig fell down dead by his own bedside; and Theodoric, stricken with incurable wounds, journeyed through Holstem and Saxony to Swabia. Here he went to the border of a lake, and drawing the sword Mimung out of its sheath, hurled it afar into the waters, so that it should never again come into the hands of man. He then went into a little Swabian town, and the next day died there of his wounds. He strictly forbade his servants to make mention of his name or rank, and was buried in that town as a merchant. It is needless to remark on the resemblance of one part of this story to the "Passing of Arthur".
I have thus endeavoured to bring before the reader (I hope not with undue prolixity) the chief events in the life of the mythical Theodoric of the Middle Ages. Still, as late as the sixteenth century the common people loved to talk of this mighty hero. The Bavarian "Chronicle" (translated and continued about 1580) says: "Our people sing and talk much about 'Dietrich von Bern.' You would not soon find an ancient king who is so well known to the common people amongst us, or about whom they have so much to say". [183] What they had to say was, as the reader will have observed, strangely removed from the truth of history. How all this elaborate superstructure of romance could be reared on the mere name of Theodoric of Verona is almost inconceivable to us, till we call to mind that the minstrels were in truth the novelists of the Middle Ages, not pretending or desiring to instruct, but only to amuse and interest their hearers, and to beguile the tedium of existence in dull baronial castles.