The messenger also came quickly where the king was. Siegmund slept not. I ween his heart told him what had happened, and that he would see his dear son never more.
“Arouse thee, Sir Siegmund! Kriemhild, my lady, hath sent me. For a wrong hath been done her, that lieth heavier on her heart than any other hath done. Thou shalt help her to mourn, for it is thy sorrow also.”
Up rose Sir Siegmund then, and said, “What is fair Kriemhild’s grief, whereof thou tellest me?”
The messenger answered, weeping, “She mourneth with cause. Bold Siegfried of the Netherland is slain.”
But Siegmund said, “Jest not with these evil tidings of my son, and say to none that he is slain; for never to my life’s end could I mourn him enow.”
“If thou believest not what I tell thee, hearken thyself to Kriemhild, how she maketh dole for Siegfried’s death with all her maidens.”
Then Siegmund feared and was sore affrighted. With an hundred of his men he sprang out of his bed; they grasped their long swords and keen, with their hands, and ran sorrowfully where they heard the sound of weeping. A thousand of Siegfried’s knights came running. They thought not on their vesture till they were there, for they had lost their wits through grief. Mickle woe was buried in their hearts.
Then came Siegmund to Queen Kriemhild, and said, “Woe is me for our journey hither! Who, among such good friends, hath murderously robbed me of my child, and thee of thy husband?”
“If I knew that,” answered the noble woman, “I were ever his foe with heart and soul. Trust me, I would so contrive his hurt that all his friends, by reason of me, would yet weep for sorrow.”
Siegmund took the prince in his arms; the grief of his friends was so great that, with their loud wailing and their weeping, palace and hall and the town of Worms rang again. None could comfort Siegfried’s wife. They took the clothes off his beautiful body, and washed his wounds and laid him on a bier, and all his folk were heavy with great grief.