When they came to the minster, how many a bell rang out! On all sides they sang requiems. Thither came King Gunther with his men, and also grim Hagen, that had better stayed away.
Gunther said, “Dear sister, woe is me for this grief of thine, and that this great misadventure hath befallen us. We must ever mourn Siegfried’s death.”
“Ye do wrongly,” said the wailing queen. “If it grieved thee, it had never happed. I was clean forgotten by thee when thou didst part me from my dear husband. Would to God thou hadst done it to me instead!”
But they held to their lie, and Kriemhild went on. “Let him that is guiltless prove it. Let him go up to the bier before all the folk, and soon we shall know the truth.”
It is a great marvel, and ofttimes seen even now, how that, when the murderer standeth by the dead, the wounds bleed again. And so it fell then, and Hagen’s guilt was plain to all.
The wounds burst open and bled as they had done afore; and they that had wept already wept now much more. King Gunther said, “Hear the truth. He was slain by robbers. Hagen did it not.”
“These robbers,” she answered, “I know well. God grant that his kinsmen’s hands may avenge it. By you, Gunther and Hagen, was it done.” Siegfried’s knights had fain fallen on them, but Kriemhild said, “Help me to bear my woe.”
Gernot her brother, and Giselher the youth, both came and found Siegfried dead; they mourned for him truly, and their eyes were blind with tears. They wept for Kriemhild’s husband from their hearts.
It was time to sing mass, and men and women flocked from all quarters. Even they that missed him little mourned with the rest.
Gernot and Giselher said, “Comfort thee, sister, for the dead, for so it must needs be now. We will make it good to thee while we live.” But comfort her could none.