“I will help thee truly,” answered the minstrel; “if I saw the king coming with all his warriors, I would not, while I lived, stir a foot from thy side through fear.”
“God in Heaven quit thee, noble Folker! If they fight with me, what need I more. Since thou wilt help me, as I have heard thee promise, these knights had best walk warily.”
“Now rise we from our seat, and let her pass,” said the minstrel. “She is a queen. Do her this honour; she is a high-born lady. Therein we honour ourselves.”
“Nay, as thou lovest me!” Hagen said. “These knights might deem I did it through fear, and thought to fly. I will not rise from my seat for any of them. It beseemeth us better to sit still. Shall I show honour to her that hateth me? That I will never do, so long as I be a living man. Certes, I care little if King Etzel’s wife misliketh me.”
Hagen, the overweening man, laid a bright weapon across his knee, from the hilt whereof shone a flaming jasper, greener than grass. Well Kriemhild knew that it was Siegfried’s.
When she saw the sword, her heart was heavy. The hilt was of gold, the scabbard of red broidered silk. It minded her on her woe, and she began to weep. Bold Hagen, I ween, had done it apurpose.
Brave Folker drew closer to him on the bench a stark fiddle-bow, mickle and long, made like a sword, sharp and broad. There sat the good knights unafraid. They deemed them too high to rise from their seat through fear of any.
Then the noble queen advanced to them and gave them angry greeting. She said, “Now tell me, Sir Hagen, who sent for thee, that thou hast dared to ride into this land? Wert thou in thy senses, thou hadst not done it.”
“None sent for me,” answered Hagen. “Three knights that I call master, were bidden hither. I am their liegeman, and never yet tarried behind when they rode to a hightide.”
She said, “Now tell me further. Wherefore didst thou that which hath earned thee my hate? Thou slewest Siegfried, my dear husband, that I cannot mourn enow to my life’s end.”