Then said King Gunther, “No service is better than that of friends to a dead friend. I approve the true heart of him that doeth it. Ye have cause to praise him. He hath shown you much love.”
“How long shall we entreat?” cried Wolfhart. “Sith ye have slain our joy, and we can have him no more, let us bear him hence to bury him.”
But Folker answered, “Ye shall get him from none here. Come and take him out of the house, where he lieth with his death-wounds in the blood. So shall ye serve Rudeger truly.”
Cried bold Wolfhart, “God knoweth, sir fiddler, thou dost wrong to provoke us further; thou hast done us hurt enow. If I dared before my master, it would go hard with thee. We may not fight; he hath forbidden it.”
The fiddler said, “He that avoideth all that is forbidden is over fearful. He hath not the right hero’s heart.”
Hagen approved the word of his comrade. But Wolfhart cried, “Give over mocking, or I will put thy fiddle-strings out of tune, that thou mayest have somewhat to tell, if ever thou ridest again to Burgundy. I can no longer, with honour, endure thine insolence.”
The fiddler answered, “If thou spoilest my strings, my hand will dim thy helmet afore I ride back to Burgundy.”
Wolfhart would have run at him, but his uncle, Hildebrand, held him fast and would not let him. “Thou art mad in thy foolish wrath. We should come in disgrace forever with my master.”
“Let loose the lion that is so grim, sir knight. But if he fall into my hand,” said Folker, “I will slay him, though he had laid the whole world dead. There will be an end of his hot answers.”
Wolfhart fell in a fury thereat. He lifted his shield and sprang at him like a wild lion. His friends followed after. But, quick though he was, old Hildebrand came before any to the stair-way, that he might not be second in the fight. They found plenty to meet them among the strangers.