“I would gladly give thee my shield, durst I offer it before Kriemhild. Yet take it, Hagen, and wear it. Ha! mightest thou but win with it to Burgundy!”
When they saw him give the shield so readily, there were eyes enow red with hot tears. It was the last gift that Rudeger of Bechlaren ever gave.
Albeit Hagen was grim and stern, he was melted by the gift that the good knight, so nigh to his end, had given him. And many a warrior mourned with him.
“Now God reward thee, noble Rudeger; there will never be thy like again for giving freely to homeless knights. May the fame of thy charity live for ever. Sad news hast thou brought me. We had trouble enow. God pity us if we must fight with friends.”
The Margrave answered, “Thou grievest not more than I.”
“I will requite thee for thy gift, brave Rudeger. Whatever betide thee from these knights, my hand will not touch thee—not if thou slewest every man of Burgundy.”
Rudeger bowed, and thanked him. All the folk wept. Sore pity it was that none could stay the strife. The father of all virtue lay dead in Rudeger.
Then Folker the fiddler went to the door and said, “Since my comrade Hagen hath sworn peace, thou shalt have it also from my hand. Well didst thou earn it when we came first into this country. Noble Margrave, be my envoy. The Margravine gave me these red bracelets to wear at the hightide. See them now, and bear witness that I did it.”
“Would to God that the Margravine might give thee more! Doubt not but I shall tell my dear one, if I ever see her alive.”
When he had promised that, Rudeger lifted up his shield; he waxed fierce, and tarried no longer. Like a knight he fell upon the guests. Many a swift blow he smote. Folker and Hagen stood back, for they had vowed it. But so many bold men stood by the door that Rudeger came in great scathe.