The Nibelungenlied: The Lay of the Nibelungs (Oxford World's Classics) (21 page)

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The bear then fled ahead of the hounds. None could keep up with it except Kriemhilt’s husband. He caught up with it and then slew it with his sword. After that they carried the bear back to the fireside.

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Those who saw that said that he was a man of great strength. They bade the proud hunting company go to the tables. They sat there in ample numbers on a fair meadow. Oh, what fine food was brought to the noble hunters then!

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The cup-bearers took their time about bringing the wine. Never could heroes be better served, were it not that they had such treachery in mind—that apart, those warriors were free of all disgrace.

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Then Lord Sivrit said: ‘I wonder, since they bring us such plenty from the kitchen, why the cup-bearers do not bring us the wine. Unless the hunters are better catered for, I have no wish to be one of this hunting party. I, for my part, might have merited better service.’

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The king spoke falsely from his table: ‘We will gladly make it up to you for this shortage. It is Hagen who is to blame—he would willingly have us die of thirst!’

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Hagen of Tronege then said: ‘My dearest lord, I thought that today’s hunting was to be over in the Spessart. I sent the wine there. If our thirst is not sated today, I’ll take care it never happens again!’

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Then Lord Sivrit said: ‘A curse upon them! They should have brought me seven packloads of mead and clary. If that were not possible they ought to have set up camp for us nearer the Rhine.’

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Then Hagen of Tronege said: ‘You noble, bold knights, I know of a cold spring near here. Do not be angry! Let us go there.’ (That counsel was to bring great sorrow to many a warrior.)

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Sivrit the warrior was sore pressed by thirst. He ordered the table to be taken away all the earlier. He wanted to go past the mountains to the spring. The warriors had agreed on that counsel with treachery in mind. They ordered that the beasts which Sivrit’s hands had slain

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there be loaded on waggons and taken to Burgundy. All who saw that praised him greatly.

Hagen broke faith with Sivrit most grievously. As they were about

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to set off for the wide-branching linden, Hagen of Tronege said: ‘I have often been told that no one can outrun Kriemhilt’s husband if he is in haste. Oh, if only he would let us see that!’

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Bold Sivrit of the Netherlands replied: ‘You can readily try it for yourself, if you will race me to the spring. When the race is over, he who is seen to be the winner shall be accorded victory.’

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‘Let’s put it to the test now,’ said Hagen the warrior. Then bold Sivrit said: ‘In that case, I will lie down in the grass at your feet.’ When he heard that, how glad Gunther was! The bold

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warrior went on: ‘I’ll tell you yet more: I’ll carry all my garments with me, my javelin and shield, and all my hunting-gear.’ He quickly bound about him the quiver and the sword.

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Then they took off their clothes. They were seen standing there in two white shifts. Like two wild panthers they ran through the clover. Bold Sivrit was seen at the spring first. He excelled many men in

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all things. Quickly he took off his sword; he laid his quiver to one side; he leant the stout javelin against a branch of the linden. The noble foreigner stood by the flowing spring. Sivrit’s courtesy

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was very great. He laid his shield down where the spring flowed. No matter how thirsty he was, the hero did not drink at all before the king had drunk. Gunther repaid him very ill for that.

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The spring was cool, clear, and fine. Then Gunther bent low, down to the stream. When he had drunk, he rose up and turned away. Bold Sivrit would gladly have done the same. Then he paid

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for his good breeding. Hagen took both his bow and his sword away from him. Then Hagen leapt back to where he found the javelin. He looked for an image on the bold warrior’s garment. As Lord

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Sivrit drank at the spring, Hagen speared him through the cross, so that from his wound the blood spurted from his heart, all over Hagen’s clothes. Never again will a hero commit so gross a crime!

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Hagen left the javelin sticking there, close by Sivrit’s heart. Never did Hagen flee so wildly, nor run away from any man in the world. When Lord Sivrit realized how grievously he was wounded, he leapt away from the spring in a rage. The long javelin

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protruded from his heart. The prince looked for his bow or sword—if he found them, then Hagen would be rewarded for his service!

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When the grievously wounded man could not find his sword, he had nothing left then but his shield’s rim. He snatched it up from the spring—he ran at Hagen. King Gunther’s vassal could not escape him then. Mortally wounded though he was, Sivrit struck

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such a powerful blow that many of the precious stones flew up from the shield—the shield broke into pieces! The noble guest would dearly love to have avenged himself. Hagen stumbled under the

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force of Sivrit’s hands. The island echoed loudly with the power of his blow. If he had had his sword in his hands, it would have been the death of Hagen. The wounded man was in such a rage, as he had every right to be. He had turned pale—he couldn’t stand.

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All his bodily strength departed from him, for, despite the glow of
his complexion, he bore death’s mark. Afterwards he was wept over by ample numbers of fair ladies.

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Then Kriemhilt’s husband fell into the flowers. The blood from his wound flowed freely, as could clearly be seen. Then he began to curse those who had conspired so disloyally to bring about his death—he had every right to do so. The mortally wounded warrior

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then said: ‘Well, you evil cowards, what help have my services been, now that you have slain me? I was always loyal to you. I have paid for that now. You have wrought ill by your kinsmen, sad as it is to say. All those who are born after these times will be accursed

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because of this.
*
You have avenged your wrath all too evilly upon me. This disgrace must cut you off from the company of good warriors.’

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The knights all ran over to where he lay slain. For plenty of them it was a joyless day. Those who were at all loyal lamented his passing. That bold and gallant knight had well deserved it.

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The King of Burgundy lamented his death. Then the mortally wounded warrior said: ‘There is no need for that—a man who weeps over a wrong he has done merits much cursing. It would have been better left undone.’

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Then fierce Hagen said: ‘I don’t know why you’re grieving. All our troubles and our sorrow are at an end now. We will find very few who dare oppose us. Happy am I that I’ve rid us of his power!’

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‘It is easy for you to make such a boast,’ replied Sivrit. ‘If I’d known you to have such a murderous intent, I could easily have protected myself against you. I grieve for no one so much as for Lady Kriemhilt, my wife. Now may God take pity that I ever gained a

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son who must be reproached hereafter because his kinsmen have slain someone so murderously. If only I could,’ Sivrit said, ‘I would justly lament over this.’ Then the mortally wounded man said, most

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pitifully: ‘If, noble king, you wish to act with some loyalty towards anyone in this world, let my dearly beloved be commended to your mercy, and let her profit by being your sister. In the name of all

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princes’ courtesy, treat her loyally. My father and my men must wait long for my return. Never was a lady’s dear husband treated worse.’

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The flowers all about grew wet with blood. Sivrit struggled against death then. It did not last long, for death’s sword has always cut too hard. That bold and gallant warrior could then speak no more. When the lords saw that the hero was dead, they laid him upon

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a shield, which was of red gold, and took counsel as to how it might
happen that they could conceal that this was Hagen’s work. Plenty

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of them then said: ‘Ill has befallen us. You must all conceal it and say with one accord that he rode out hunting alone, Kriemhilt’s husband, and was slain by ambushers as he rode through the forest.’

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Then Hagen of Tronege said: ‘I’ll take him back to Burgundy. I care very little if she who has so troubled Prünhilt’s mind comes to know of it. It matters very little to me, no matter how much she weeps.’

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T
HEN
they waited for night to fall and crossed the Rhine. No heroes could ever have hunted worse. Noble children wept over one beast that they had slain. (Many worthy fighters were to pay the price for that in time to come.) You may hear tell of great arrogance and

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dreadful vengeance! Hagen then ordered that Sivrit of the land of the Nibelungs, dead as he was, be carried and laid down outside the chamber in which Kriemhilt was to be found. He ordered that they

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lay him secretly against the door, so that she should find him there when she came out to go to matins, before day broke—a service which Lady Kriemhilt very seldom slept through.

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As was the custom there, they rang bells to summon people to the minster. Fair Lady Kriemhilt wakened many a maiden. She asked that a light be brought for her, and also her clothes. Then a chamberlain came and found Sivrit lying there. He saw him red with

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blood, his clothes all wet. He had no idea that it was his lord. He took the candle in his hand and went into the chamber. From him Lady Kriemhilt learned most evil tidings. As she was about to go to the

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minster with her ladies, the chamberlain said: ‘Stay where you are! A knight lies slain outside this chamber!’ At that Kriemhilt took to weeping beyond all measure. Even before she found out for certain that it

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was her husband, she began to think of Hagen’s question about how he should protect him. Then anguish first befell her. With his death she had declared war on all joys. She sank to the ground then, not

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speaking a word. They saw the fair queen lying there, bereft of joy. Kriemhilt’s grief grew great beyond measure. She fainted—on awakening she then screamed so loud that the whole chamber resounded.

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The household then said: ‘What if it is a stranger?’ The blood burst forth from her mouth, so great was her heart’s grief. Then she said: ‘It is Sivrit, my dearest husband. Prünhilt has conspired to have Hagen do this deed.’

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The lady had herself led to where she found the hero. With her white hands she raised his handsome head. Although it was red with blood, she was quick to recognize him. The hero from the land of the Nibelungs lay there in a most wretched state. Then the bountiful

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queen cried out in great sadness: ‘Alas for the evil that has befallen me! For your shield has not been hewn to pieces by swords—you lie here murdered! If I knew who had done it, I would forever seek to bring about his death!’

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All her retinue lamented and cried out along with their dear lady, for they felt great grief for their most noble lord, whom they had lost there. Hagen had grievously avenged Prünhilt’s wrath. Then the

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wretched queen said: ‘You chamberlains must go and wake Sivrit’s men at once. You must also tell Sigmunt of my grief, and ask if he will help me mourn bold Sivrit.’

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Then a messenger ran quickly to where he found them lying—Sivrit’s heroes from the land of the Nibelungs. With his wretched tidings he robbed them of their joy. They didn’t want to believe it, until they heard the weeping. The messenger also quickly went to where the

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king, Lord Sigmunt, lay, not sleeping. I believe his heart had told him what had happened to him. Never again could he see his dear son alive.

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‘Wake, Lord Sigmunt! My Lady Kriemhilt asked me to go in search of you. Such a wrong has been done her as touches her heart above all other sorrows. You must help her mourn, for it touches you deeply.’

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Sigmunt rose to his feet. He said: ‘What are these sorrows of fair Kriemhilt you tell me about?’

The messenger replied, weeping: ‘I can’t keep it from you: bold Sivrit of the Netherlands has been slain.’

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Lord Sigmunt then said: ‘Let your tomfoolery be, if you would spare me! Speak no such evil tidings, telling people that he is slain, for I could never cease to mourn over him until the day I die.’

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‘If you will not believe what you hear me say, then you yourself can hear Kriemhilt and all her retinue mourning over Sivrit’s death.’

Sigmunt was greatly shocked at that, as he had good reason to be.

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He leapt from his bed, as did a hundred of his men. They reached for their long, sharp swords and ran, full of grief, to where they heard the
cries of lament. A thousand warriors then came up, bold Sivrit’s men.

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When they heard the ladies lamenting so wretchedly, some amongst them there then thought that they should put on their court clothes.
*
They had lost their senses out of sorrow. Great grief lay buried deep in their hearts.

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Then King Sigmunt went to where he found Kriemhilt. He said: ‘Alas for our journey into this land! Who has so murderously robbed me of my son, and you of your husband, among such good friends?’

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‘Oh, if I were to know who did it,’ said the most noble queen, ‘he would never find favour in my heart! I would cause him such harm as would make his friends weep because of me!’

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Lord Sigmunt took the prince in his arms. Then the grief of his friends grew so great that the loud cries of lament caused the palace and great hall, and even the town of Worms, to resound with their weeping. No one could then console Sivrit’s wife. They drew the