The queen then asked her brothers to divest themselves of their armour, as it was not customary to appear in the panoply of war before King Etzel. Hagen at once advised them not to do so, warning them of the consequences in plain terms.
Chriemhild exclaimed, that she would give much to know whose advice he was following in this matter; then the Amelung hero came forward, and boldly avowed that it was he who had given this counsel, for he knew well the devilish plots that were being contrived in the palace. The queen only answered him with an angry look, and at once retired to her apartments.
While the kings talked together in the friendliest fashion, the Hunnish warriors looked askance at the Burgundians. Hagen, desirous of showing that he felt no fear, asked one of his comrades to go with him to the inner court to await the coming of the queen. His familiar friend, Volker the minstrel, declared himself ready. They seated themselves on a bench near the queen’s hall. As they sat there—Hagen with his good sword Balmung laid across his knees—Chriemhild came down the steps, and asked him why he had hated her so, and why he had slain the noble Siegfried.
“Well,” he said, “I never denied that I did it. The queen of Burgundy was insulted for his sake, and the royal house dishonoured. The shame had to be washed out with blood, and as the hero was too strong to attack in the open field, he had to be slain by cunning. Any one may blame me, any one may strive to avenge the deed, I am not afraid. I have no cap of darkness, and am easily to be found.”
Then Chriemhild turned to her serving-men, and desired them to slay the slanderer of their queen, and the treacherous murderer of Siegfried. But the two brave men were so terrible to look upon, that none of the Huns dared touch them, although the queen offered them much gold. They then went their way, and the queen returned to her apartments, blushing with shame.
A message now came from King Etzel begging the Burgundians to visit him in his palace. They accepted the invitation, and he greeted them like old friends. After having welcomed the heroes, he said that he should very much like to know who the two warriors were that looked so brave, and stood so close together.
“They are Volker the minstrel, and my uncle Hagen of Tronje,” replied King Gunther.
“What, Hagen!” cried Etzel. “So we have met again at last, old friend, and I can tell you to your face that you have not belied the promise of your youth. But you are much changed in your looks from what you were in the old days when I was proud of your brave deeds in my service, and set you free, to return to Burgundy. You have lost an eye since then, your hair is mixed with grey, and your face has grown so rugged that you might alarm the boldest warrior when you swing your broadsword.”
“Who can tell,” replied the hero, “how soon I may have to do it again?”
“Never in the land of the Huns,” answered the king; “you, like all Burgundians, are a favoured guest.”