When brave Dankwart was come within the door, he bade King Etzel’s meiny step aside. His garments dripped with blood and in his hand he bare unsheathed a mighty sword. Full loud he called out to the knight: “Brother Hagen, ye sit all too long, forsooth. To you and to God in heaven do I make plaint of our woe. Our knights and squires all lie dead within their lodgements.”
He called in answer: “Who hath done this deed?”
“That Sir Bloedel hath done with his liegemen, but he hath paid for it dearly, as I can tell you, for with mine own hands I struck off his head.”
“It is but little scathe,” quoth Hagen, “if one can only say of a knight that he hath lost his life at a warrior’s hands. Stately dames shall mourn him all the less. Now tell me, brother Dankwart, how comes it that ye be so red of hue? Ye suffer from wounds great dole, I ween. If there be any in the land that hath done you this, ’twill cost his life, and the foul fiend save him not.”
“Ye see me safe and sound; my weeds alone are wot with blood. This hath happed from wounds of other men, of whom I have slain so many a one today that, had I to swear it, I could not tell the tale.”
“Brother Dankwart,” he spake, “guard us the door and let not a single Hun go forth. I will hold speech with the warriors, as our need constraineth us, for our meiny lieth dead before them, undeserved.”
“If I must be chamberlain,” quoth the valiant man, “I well wet how to serve such mighty kings and will guard the stairway, as doth become mine honors.” Naught could have been more loth to Kriemhild’s knights.
“Much it wondereth me,” spake Hagen, “what the Hunnish knights be whispering in here. I ween, they’d gladly do without the one that standeth at the door, and who told the courtly tale to us Burgundians. Long since I have heard it said of Kriemhild, that she would not leave unavenged her dole of heart. Now let us drink to friendship 172 and pay for the royal wine. The young lord of the Huns shall be the first.”
Then the good knight Hagen smote the child Ortlieb, so that the blood spurted up the sword towards his hand and the head fell into the lap of the queen. At this there began a murdering, grim and great, among the knights. Next he dealt the master who taught the child a fierce sword-stroke with both his hands, so that his head fell quickly beneath the table to the ground. A piteous meed it was, which he meted out to the master. Hagen then spied a gleeman sitting at King Etzel’s board. In his wrath he hied him thither and struck off his right hand upon the fiddle. “Take this as message to the Burgundian land.”
“Woe is me of my hand,” spake the minstrel Werbel. “Sir Hagen of Troneg, what had I done to you? I came in good faith to your masters’ land. How can I now thrum the tunes, sith I have lost my hand?”
Little recked Hagen, played he nevermore. In the hall he dealt out fierce deadly wounds to Etzel’s warriors, passing many of whom he slew. Enow of folk in the house he did to death. The doughty Folker now sprang up from the board; loud rang in his hands his fiddle bow. Rudely did Gunther’s minstrel play. Ho, what foes he made him among the valiant Huns! The three noble kings, too, sprang up from the table. Gladly would they have parted the fray, or ever greater scathe was done. With all their wit they could not hinder it, when Folker and Hagen gan rage so sore. When that the lord of the Rhine beheld the fray unparted, the prince dealt his foes many gaping wounds himself through the shining armor rings. That he was a hero of his hands, he gave great proof. Then the sturdy Gernot joined the strife. Certes, he did many a hero of the Huns to death with a sharp sword, the which Rudeger had given him. Mighty wounds he dealt King Etzel’s warriors. Now the young son of Lady Uta rushed to the fray. Gloriously his sword rang on the helmets of Etzel’s warriors from the Hunnish land. Full mickle wonders were wrought by bold Giselher’s hand. But how so doughty they all were, the kings and their liegemen, yet Folker was seen to stand before them all against the foe; a good hero he. Many a one he made to fall in his blood through wounds. Etzel’s men did fend them, too, full well, yet one saw the strangers go hewing with their gleaming swords through the royal hall and on every side was heard great sound of wail. Those without would now fain be with their friends within, but at the entrance towers they found small gain. Those within had gladly been without the hall, but Dankwart let none go either up or down the steps. Therefore there rose before the towers a mighty press, and helmets rang loudly from the sword-blows. Bold Dankwart came into great stress thereby; this his brother feared, as his loyalty did bid him.
Loudly then Hagen called to Folker: “See ye yonder, comrade, my brother stand before the Hunnish warriors amid a rain of blows? Friend, save my brother, or ever we lose the knight.”
“That will I surely,” quoth the minstrel, and through the palace he went a-fiddling, his stout sword ringing often in his hand. Great thanks were tendered by the warriors from the Rhine. Bold Folker spake to Dankwart: “Great discomfiture have ye suffered today, therefore your brother bade me hasten to your aid. Will ye stand without, so will I stand within.”
Sturdy Dankwart stood without the door and guarded the staircase against whoever came, wherefore men heard the swords resound in the heroes’ hands. Folker of Burgundy land performed the same within. Across the press the bold fiddler cried: “Friend Hagen, the hall is locked; forsooth King Etzel’s door is bolted well. The hands of two heroes guard it, as with a thousand bars.” When Hagen of Troneg beheld the door so well defended, the famous hero............