Tale XIII: How Siegfried Made War Against Herwic

Siegfried, king of Moorland, called for all his men;Ships were soon made ready, wherever they were seen;Then with food and weapons to load them it was bidden,For war against King Herwic: from all but faithful friends his thoughts were hidden.

A score of wide, strong barges bade he to be made.I ween they liked it little to whom the king now saidThat forthwith unto Sealand to fight must they be faring;And he would thither hasten as soon as, winter o’er, springtide was nearing.

Eighty thousand warriors soon to him had come;Of fighting men in Alzabie none were left at home.Then swore the Moorland princes for war to make them ready;Some of these still lingered, others to follow with the king were speedy.

Then against the Sealands the threat of war he made.This roused the wrath of Herwic, who well might him upbraid;To earn the hate of Siegfried wrong had he done him never.His marches and his castles he bade his men to guard, now more than ever.

Then he said in sorrow to friends who came in hasteThat foes would burn his castles, and his lands lay waste:All he could give his liegemen, that he held but lightly.They took their wages gladly; that war would bring them riches, hoped they rightly.

About the gladsome May-time, there went across the seaWarriors out of Alzabie, and eke from Abakie.Onward came they proudly, as tho’ the world’s end seeking;Many now trod boldly who in the dust their rest would soon be taking.

Into the land of Herwic they cast the burning brand.Then all whom he could gather, and all his friends at hand,Rode to the field with Herwic. Thro’ war-storms grimly driven,They with their lives must bargain for gold and gems and silver to them given.

To him, the king of Sealand, great ill erelong was wrought.A stalwart foeman was he: Aha, how well he fought!He made the land the richer with the dead there lying:The old in fight grew youthful: the strong were slain, who recked not yet of dying.

Long the fighting lasted, till thickly lay the dead:Then to the brave King Herwic came at last the needTo flee into his marches, for life he there was turning;All his lands lay smoking: of this to Gu-drun, his lady, sent he warning.

Now to the land of Hettel men at his bidding went:Many tears and bitter they shed when they were sentTo find the great King Hettel, and the tale to him to carry.They were not long in showing unto the king their plight so hard and dreary.

Tho’ sad in mood he found them, a welcome kind he gave,Such as far-off wanderers and homeless friends should have.He asked if from their homesteads they were hither driven,When foes their lands had wasted, and all their marches had to flames been given.

Then to him they answered: “In sorrow did we leave:The faithful men of Herwic, from early morn till eve,Sell their lives full dearly, and well his gifts are earning;They fight for name and honor: for this at home are many women mourning.”

Then to them said Hettel: “To my daughter make it known;Whatever she shall wish for at once shall that be done.If she for vengeance calleth for the wrongs he wrought you,We then will help you gladly, and pay him back the ill that he has brought you.”

Before they yet had spoken unto the fair young maid,Already of her sorrow her friends had taken heed.The lady had been longing to see the heralds hourly;Them in haste she sent for, the loss of land and honor, mourning sorely.

When they came before her, they found the queenly maidSitting sad, and weeping,— faithful love she had;She asked them of her lover, and how they leave had taken,And if he still was living when they of late had land and home forsaken.

Then answered one among them: “We left him sound and well;But since the day we saw him we know not what befell,Or how the men of Moorland may his home have wasted:Mischief they had done him, neither from fire and plunder had they rested.

“Listen, high-born maiden! my master’s bidding heed:He and all his warriors are now in sorest need.To lose both life and honor they are fearing daily;And now my lord, King Herwic, sends to beg your men to his help to rally.”

Gu-drun, the lovely maiden, then from her seat upstood;The wrongs that had been done her she to her father showed:She said her men were slaughtered, and her castles wasted,And told her father, Hettel, that to ride to Herwic’s help she would he had hasted.

Then in her arms she pressed him, her eyes with weeping wet:“Help, O dearest father! My woes are all too great,Unless your many liegemen, with ready hand, are willingTo help my good friend Herwic: none else can end the strife, my sorrow healing.”

“That will I leave to no one,” the king did freely say;“I will haste to help King Herwic, and wait not many a day.As well as I am able, I will end your sorrow:I will call for the aged Wâ-te and many other friends, before the morrow.

“He will bring from Sturmland all the men of his lands;And when ’tis known by Morunc how ill with us it stands,Fighters full a thousand to bring will he be speedy.Our foes shall find out quickly, that under helmets we to march are ready.

“Horant, too, from Denmark shall bring upon the wayOf men full thrice a thousand: nor will Irold stay;But he will raise his banner, and hasten to the slaughter.Then, too, thy brother Ortwin will come, and all will earn the blessing of my daughter.”

The heralds soon went riding whom the maid did send.Her friends far off were living, but all who help would lendTo heal the maiden’s sorrow would honor great be earning;Knights would she warmly welcome: for this erelong the more to her were turning.

Hilda, the maiden’s mother, unto her daughter spake:“Whoe’er is quick to help you, and now his shield shall takeTo follow with your warriors when they to war are faring,Whate’er we gain by fighting he shall, in truth, henceforth with us be sharing.”

Then the chests were opened; men to court soon boreWhate’er therein was lying, of fighting-gear a store,Fast with steel well studded; then the knights were ladenWith armor white as silver: this made glad the heart of the queenly maiden.

To full a thousand warriors were given clothes and steeds;Out of stalls men brought them, as oft the horse one leads,When, along the highways, men to the fight go riding.Of all the king’s good horses they left but very few at rest abiding.

When from his queenly lady the king his leave did take,Both Hilda and her daughter began to weep for his sake;But on the knights forth riding gladly they were gazing,And said: “May God in heaven so help the fight that men may you be praising.”

After they all were gathered without the castle gate,Youths were there heard singing, hoping for plunder great.Each thought, by hardest fighting, to win himself much riches;But far must they yet be riding, for long the way to their master’s foemen stretches.

On the third morning early came, at break of day,The very aged Wâ-te with a thousand to the fray;And from the Danish kingdom, as the seventh day was dawning,Came Horant with four thousand, to whom the fair Gu-drun had sent her warning.

From out the Waalisch marches Morunc thither rode;He ever fought for the ladies, for the love to them he owed.Twenty thousand warriors he brought,—for nought he tarried:These were all well-weaponed, and happily rode, while help to the king they carried.

The queenly maiden’s brother, Ortwin, the youthful knight,Brought across the water, to help her in the fight,Forty hundred warriors, or even a number greater:Were it known to the men of Alzabie, well might they have feared to meet him later.

Before they yet could help him, to Herwic and his menThe strife had now gone badly, his luck began to wane:To him and all his followers was evil sore betiding;Altho’ they struggled bravely, his foes too near his castle gate were riding.

Great mishaps to Herwic from Siegfried’s kin arose;For now the gates of the castle were shattered by their blows.False friends had made it easy, and boasts too loudly spoken:If e’er to such one trusteth, it worketh him no good, and his hopes are broken.

Now ’twas told to Herwic, men fast for help had gone.The foes from fight ne’er rested, by anger driven on;From early morn to even, they oft to the strife were bidden:But now the friends of Herwic on every side drew near, nor long lay hidden.

When this the men of Karadie did learn, they well might fearThat now two kings against them in the fight should share:For them it was unlucky that Hettel now was leadingHis many fighters thither; he from afar had come, to Herwic speeding.

Friends were they to each other; so both would meet the foe.These, the men from Moorland, bold themselves did show:One saw by all their bearing they would from none be flying;Those who with them struggled by hardest toil must their reward be buying.

Wâ-te, the very daring, with all his knights had come;Gu-drun, the lovely lady, had called him from his homeTo help her lover, Herwic, and a host had ridden hither:Whate’er might now befall them, later full happy rode they thence together.

Although their foes were heathen, from out the Moorish land,They might not back be driven: one well might understandThat in any earthly kingdom they were the best and boldest.To all who came to meet them they gave a sorry welcome and a shelter coldest.

Herwic, king of Sealand, his loss would now make goodUpon his foes from Alzabie. For this must flow the bloodOn either side of many; to friends and kin were givenWounds full fast and heavy: to bear his own was hard for Hettel even.

When they had come together of whom I spoke before,Bringing all their followers, gladness they knew no more;On them were ever resting heavy care and sorrowFor what the night might bring them. They thought: “How shall we live to see the morrow?”

Thrice with the Moorish foemen they strove on the stormy field,While peace was given the castle, as knights are wont to yield.Again with sword and spear-shaft they the strife would settle:Peace not yet they wished for, but wounds the more they got in hard-fought battle.

Nor Herwic’s men nor Siegfried’s yet would leave the fight;They to the last had struggled, and many a bravest knightUpon the field lay wounded, or in death was sleeping.This was told to the women, who now began a wild, unmeasured weeping.

How well the daring Wâ-te in battle-storm did fight!Strong was he and skilful, and oft the aged knightGave to the foe heart-sorrow, by all the ill he wrought him:Ever to fight with his warriors, by the side of the boldest and best, his wishes taught him.

Horant, too, from Denmark, brave was he enough!Beneath his hand were shattered helmets strong and tough;Ne’er by him ’twas forgotten to wear his armor shining;Ill he wrought to many, and oft the ranks of his foemen he was thinning.

The quick and fearless Morunc boldly stretched his handOfttimes beyond his buckler, and oft the fight he gained.To shun the king of Moorland ne’er would he be seeking;Upon that king, so mighty, he the wrath of Herwic now was wreaking.

The great and doughty Hettel, when that his daughter fairHad sent to beg her father in Herwic’s fight to share,That peace at last might follow, fought for him not idly:If life were dear to any, ’twere best to shun King Hettel’s borders widely.

Bravely strove King Herwic on the field and at the gate;None than he fought better. His head was often wet,Beneath his armor dripping, with sweat that fast was oozing.In death were many deafened; they who would crush him must their lives be losing.

Wigaleis, the faithful, great ill to many wrought.Sir Fru-te, too, from Daneland, with knightly prowess fought:The thanks of all his fellows he should of right be sharing;He strove where the fight was stormy, and none e’er knew an aged knight so daring.

The lord who came from Ortland, Ortwin, brave and young,Showed the hand of a warrior; it was on many a tongue,That never man in warfare bore himself more boldly:Wounds he gave the deepest, and this by none was ever told of coldly.

For twelve long days of fighting, earnestly they strove.The men led on by Hettel oft their spear-shafts droveThro’ their foes’ light bucklers, as close they met together:The fighters proud from Moorland sorely rued the day that brought them thither.

Upon the thirteenth morning, ere early mass was said,With sorry heart spake Siegfried: “How many here lie deadOf all our bravest warriors! In his lofty wooingThe king of Sealand also here to himself has evil great been doing.”

Then to the men of Karadie made he known his will,To a stronghold to betake them, there their wounds to heal:They, with those from Alzabie, were earnest to go thither;Right glad were these far-riders that all in death might not be found together.

Then to a sheltering castle to turn they all began,Where onward, fast beside it, a wide, deep river ran.While they were thither riding, fleeing away from danger,They were still seen fighting with those who ne’er would yield their homes to a stranger.

Now against King Hettel the king of Moorland rode:Well might one believe it, his former warlike moodWas but a slight beginning; he soon a foe was meetingWho many of his kinsmen with deep and deadly wounds of late was greeting.

Hettel, he of the Hegelings, and Siegfried, the Moorland king,There unto the struggle all their strength did bring;Shields were hacked to pieces by the swords they wielded:The mighty lord of Moorland to the castle fled, nor to him of Daneland yielded.

Camps by the men from Denmark for themselves were made:Then the beleaguered warriors,— it cannot be gainsaid,—E’er many days were over, with care were burdened sadly;However good their shelter, all would then have been at home more gladly.

Thus the boastful fighters were by the foeman’s handFast held within the stronghold; nor was their knightly bandNow able to give battle, although for this yet longing.Their castle well they guarded, as best they might, wherein they now were thronging.