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IV
DIETRICH, THE FAITHFUL ALLY

March to Etzel

Dietrich lived in friendship with Etzel, king of the Huns, from the time Rüdiger first brought them together. When the hero came back from Burgundy, he had sent ambassadors to the king, and promised to help him if he was in any difficulty. It was not long before he was reminded of this promise.

The Margrave, who was known in all lands by the title of the good and gentle, came to Bern one day as he had often come before, for he was a welcome guest. On such occasions the warriors would talk over their past adventures, and tell tales of noble and doughty deeds. Rüdiger told amongst other things of his adventures in Spain, and how he had at last left that country, and taken service under King Etzel, who had always been a true friend to him since the beginning of their acquaintance. He went on to relate how King Etzel, powerful monarch as he then was, did not shun to speak of the hardships and homelessness of his early youth.

“Yes, truly,” interrupted Master Hildebrand, “and I know as much of his early youth as ever the great king himself. Once when Wilkinus was ruler of the Wilkin-men–”

“Ha! my great-grandfather!” cried Wittich. “What have you to say of him?”

“I only know,” continued the master, “that he was a mighty chief, and that many kings were subject to him; amongst others, King Hertnit. After the death of Wilkinus, Hertnit rebelled against his son and heir, Nordian, and forced the latter to acknowledge him as his liege lord. The conquered king obtained the rule of Zealand in fief, and declared himself satisfied, although he had four gigantic sons, namely, Asperian, Edgar, Awentrod, and terrible Widolf of the club, who was always kept chained up, because he did so much destruction whenever he was in a rage. When great Hertnit died, he divided his kingdom amongst his three sons. Osantrix (Oserich) obtained the rule over the Wilkin-men, Waldemar that over the Reussen, and Ylias became yarl of the Greeks. The eldest of the three wooed beautiful Oda, daughter of Melias, king of the Huns. He won her by trickery and force, with the help of Nordian’s four giant sons. Oda’s father and husband became allies after the marriage, but they could not conquer the bold Frisians, who often made raids into the land of the Huns, and burnt, destroyed, or stole whatever they laid their hands on. For Melias was old and weak, and the Wilkin-men lived so far away that their help always arrived too late. The leader of these bold invaders was the mighty man of valour now known as King Etzel, or Attila as he is sometimes called. He was a son of the Frisian chieftain Osid, and after his father’s death had to allow his brother Ortnit to succeed to the rule of Friesland, and himself go out into the wide world, with nothing but his armour and a good sword. But Frisians are a bold and warlike people. Many of them joined themselves to the young hero, and accompanied him in his viking raids into the neighbouring land of the Huns. When Melias died, the notables of the land elected their former enemy, bold Etzel, to be their king, and thus the robber chief and invader became the sovereign and protector of the country he had once laid waste.”

“Yes,” returned Rüdiger, “that is quite true, and there is more to tell. King Etzel wished to marry Erka (Herche or Helche), the beautiful daughter of Osantrix, chief of the Wilkin-men. I was sent as ambassador to her father, and was well received; but when I told the king the object of my mission, he grew wrathful, and said that he would never give his consent to such a marriage, for Etzel was not the rightful chief of the Huns; adding that the position was his by right of his wife, the daughter of Melias. He cared not when I threatened him with war; but desired me to go my way. Etzel invaded the country with his men; and when, after much fighting, a truce was at last agreed to, neither side had gained much advantage.

“A year later, I went back with a number of brave men, and had a strong castle built for me in the Falster-wood. This done, I stained my face, and otherwise disguised by a long beard, went again to visit Osantrix. I told him I was a faithful servant of the late King Melias, that I had been ill-treated and deprived of my lands by Etzel, and had therefore taken refuge with him. This story gained me his confidence, and having occasion to send his daughter Erka a message, he made me his ambassador. I told the maiden of Etzel’s wooing, and how he wished to share his power and glory with her. At first she was very angry, but at last consented to marry him.

“One moonlight night, I brought horses to the gates of the fortress where she was shut up with her young sister; broke the bars, and carried off the princesses. We were pursued, but managed to reach the castle in the wood where my men were awaiting me. I had scarcely time to send a message to Etzel, when Osantrix came upon us with all his host. He laid siege to our stronghold; but we managed to defend ourselves till Etzel came with a great army, and forced the Wilkin-men to withdraw. Ever since then, there has been a constant predatory warfare between the two nations, and Osantrix has even now invaded our land with a large army. He is accompanied by Nordian’s giant sons, who are the terror of our people. Now, noble Dietrich, Etzel thinks that if you will come and help him, he is sure of victory.”

“Ah well! If my dear comrade Wildeber will go with me,” cried Wittich, “I think that we two shall be able to reckon with the giants.”

Dietrich promised his help, and ordered all preparations to be made for the campaign. The Bernese heroes arrived just in time, for the two armies were standing opposite each other in battle array. The fight began.

Dietrich and his men took up their position in the centre division. The Amelung banner, borne by Herbrand, floated proudly above their heads, and Wittich rushed foremost into the fray. He first encountered the grim giant Widolf, who gave him a blow on the helmet with his iron club. The dragon that formed the top of the helmet was bent by the terrible blow, and although Wieland’s work did not break, the hero himself fell from his horse, and lay senseless on the ground. Over him rushed the men-at-arms in the wild mêlée. Heime alone drew rein. He stooped, and drew the sword Mimung out of Wittich’s hand, for he held him to be dead. When the wild fight was over and done, the Wilkin-men retreated from the field, and the Huns pursued them, plundering where they could. Hertnit, nephew of Osantrix, reached the battle-field too late. He could not prevent his uncle’s defeat, but he found Wittich, as yet scarcely recovered from his swoon, and took him prisoner.

The victors feasted at Susat, and rejoiced over their great deeds; but Dietrich was sad at heart, for he had lost sixty of his men; and, worst than all, his friend and comrade, Wittich, was among the missing. In vain had they sought him on the battle-field. All wondered what had become of him. When the king of Bern, richly rewarded for his help by Etzel, made ready for his departure, Wildeber came to him, and asked for leave of absence, because he would not, could not, go home without Wittich. Dietrich willingly gave his consent, for he could not help the foolish hope springing up within his breast that perhaps Wittich might be yet alive, and that his friend might find him.

The next day, Wildeber went out hunting, and slew a bear of unusual size. He skinned it, and went with the skin to Isung, the minstrel, and arranged with him a plan to free Wittich, should he be a prisoner in the hands of Osantrix. Isung helped him to draw the skin over his armour, and fasten it up carefully; then led him in the guise of a dancing bear to the stronghold of the chief of the Wilkin-men.

Now wandering players and merry-andrews, of every sort, were welcome guests in all castles and cottages, so Isung and his bear were well received.

Osantrix laughed heartily at the marvellous agility of the creature in dancing and springing to the sound of the fiddle, and even Widolf, the grim giant, who was led about with a chain by his brother Awentrod, laughed for the first time in his life, making the halls shake with the sound. Suddenly it occurred to the king that it would enhance the sport to set his twelve boar-hounds on the bear, to see how strong it was.

Isung vainly entreated the king to forbear the cruel sport, alleging that his tame bear was worth more to him than all the gold in the royal treasury; but Osantrix was not to be persuaded. The great dogs were loosed, and the barbarous sport began. To the astonishment of all, the boar-hounds were either worried or smitten to death by the bear.

Osantrix sprang angrily to his feet, and slashed at the creature’s shoulder with his sword; but the steel armour under inside the bear-skin saved the hero’s life. Another moment, and the bear had wrenched the sword from the king’s hand, and split his head open. The second blow did to death grim Widolf, the third his brother Awentrod. Isung stood staunchly by his friend when the Wilkin-men sought to avenge their king. The courtiers, however, soon took flight in deadly fear of the player and his wild beast.

Wildeber now threw off the bear-skin, took the helmet off one of the giants, and fully armed, set out in search of Wittich. The heroes searched the palace. They found Wittich’s good steed Skeming, and his armour; but neither him nor the sword Mimung could they discover.

At length they lighted on him in a damp, dark dungeon, chained to a wall, and grown so pale and thin as to be hardly recognisable. Fresh air, food, and wine soon made a change in his appearance. He put on his armour, and sadly took another sword, saying that none could be as good as Mimung.

“Now let us begone,” said Isung, “lest the Wilkin-men should come back.”

So Wildeber and he helped themselves to horses from the royal stables, and the three heroes galloped away.

“Of a truth,” cried King Etzel, when he heard their story, “you are bold men. You have done me good service, and have brought the war to an end unaided. The lord of Bern is richer than I, in that he has comrades who willingly venture their own lives to serve a brother-in-arms.”

He kept the heroes for several days to recruit their strength, and then sent them home laden with rich gifts.

Dietrich was overjoyed to see his brave warriors again, and showed them honour in many ways; but noticing that trusty Wittich was silent, and had no appetite for wine or food, he asked him what ailed him. And Wittich answered that he sorrowed for the loss of Mimung, his father’s best gift, and would go in search of it though he had to wander through every land.

“I have a notion that you need not take so long a journey,” replied the king, “for I cannot help thinking that the sword Heime wears is as like Wieland’s work as one drop of blood is like another.”

The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of two warriors in rich armour, who had been sent by the Emperor Ermenrich, Dietrich’s uncle, to tell the hero that Yarl Rimstein, his vassal in a great fief, had revolted against his authority. Ermenrich, therefore, entreated his nephew’s aid, and Dietrich promised to help the emperor.

March against Rimstein

Before starting, Wittich said that he could not go to Rimstein without his sword, and Heime refused to give it up, alleging that it was his by right of war; but the king smoothed matters for the time by desiring Heime to lend it to his comrade during the campaign.

The warriors set out. The rebel yarl proved himself a tougher foe than had been expected, and even after weeks and months had passed, his castle seemed as impregnable as ever.

One moonlight night when Wittich was out alone, he met six warriors whom he knew, by the device upon their shields, to belong to the enemy. They fought, and Wittich slew their chief, his sword Mimung cutting him in two from the neck to the waist. The other five fled in terror, lest a like fate should befall them. On examining the dead man, Wittich found it was the yarl himself that he had slain, so he returned to the camp well pleased. Next morning he told Dietrich and his comrades what had chanced, and how the war was now at an end.

“He is indeed a bold warrior,” said Heime sarcastically; “he has slain a weak old man, who could not defend himself a bit better than a woman. But now, I must have Mimung back again, for I only lent it for this enterprise.”

“Let me first try it on your head, false comrade,” answered Wittich indignantly. “You left your brother-in-arms to die in a strange land, and were traitor enough to rob him of his weapon of defence as well. You shall now pay the penalty of your meanness.”

Heime drew his sword Nagelring, and a fight was imminent; but Dietrich thrust himself between the angry men, and commanded them on their allegiance to keep the peace.

Ermenrich rejoiced to hear of Wittich’s deed, and that the war was at an end. He gave rich presents to Dietrich and his men, and asked the royal hero to give Wittich leave of absence, that he might marry fair Bolfriana, the emperor’s ward, and undertake the government of her rich fief of Drachenfels (the “Trekanfil” of Norse legend). Dietrich was pleased at his comrade’s good fortune, and at parting, he merely reminded him of his oath of fidelity, which the hero at once renewed.

Not long afterwards Wittich was married to Bolfriana, and was endowed by the emperor with the great fief of Drachenfels, which extends to Fritilaburg (Friedburg?), and far beyond the eastern mountains. So Wittich became a mighty chief, as he had told his father that he would. Heime also, when his father Studas died, went to Ermenrich’s court to take the oath of allegiance. He received other lands from his imperial master, and, what he liked still better, much red gold besides.

V
ERMENRICH TURNS AGAINST THE HERO OF BERN

The Harlungs

Ermenrich had a great and mighty empire. His lands stretched out to the east and west, and many kings owed him fealty. His counsellors were wise and clear-headed men, whose advice was of the utmost use to him. Chief among these was Sibich, the marshal of the realm, who was helped in his arduous labours by Ribestein, the head of the royal household, and his constant companion. These men had always used their influence with the emperor to keep him true to his alliance with his nephew, the king of Bern, of whom, in his heart of hearts, his imperial highness was not a little jealous. But a great change was soon to take place in the policy pursued at Romaburg.

Sibich had a young and beautiful wife, of whom he was very fond. Now Ermenrich once sent him away on a long journey, and during his absence did him foul wrong. When the marshal returned, and heard from his weeping wife of the emperor’s treachery, he was filled with wrath. At first, he snatched up a dagger to kill his foe, but restrained himself, for he had thought of a subtler mode of vengeance. He desired to make the emperor the murderer of every member of his family, to deprive him of all his allies, and finally have him assassinated. It was a plan worthy of the devil himself, and was carried out with great craft and intelligence.

Sibich’s first step was to buy over Ribestein to his design, which he did for a large sum of money, avarice being the man’s weak point. This done, Ribestein agreed to write letters to the emperor as if from the duke of Tuscany, the count of Ancona, the prince of Milan, and others, warning him that his son Friedrich was plotting against him.

The evil deed was easily accomplished, as Ribestein had copies of all the coats of arms and seals used by the grandees of the empire. Ermenrich was naturally of a suspicious disposition, so he readily fell into the snare laid for him. He consulted Sibich as to what were best to be done, and the false counsellor advised him to send Prince Friedrich with a letter to Yarl Randolt, ostensibly to demand payment of the tribute the yarl owed, but really containing an order that the prince should be slain. The emperor did as he was advised, and Sibich took care that the deed should become generally known. A cry of horror went through the land, and Ermenrich was hated by all.

Reginbald, the second son, met his death in a different fashion: he went down in the rotten ship in which his father had sent him on a pretended mission to England.

One son alone remained, Randwer, the third and youngest, a high-spirited, handsome youth, in whom there was no guile. That helped him nothing, however. One day, in the innocence of his heart, he gave his young step-mother Swanhild a bunch of flowers, when they were out hunting with the whole court, and Ermenrich, whose mind had been poisoned by false Sibich, ordered Swanhild to be trampled under foot by horses, and Randwer to be hung. His commands were obeyed. He was now alone in the world, a childless old man.

“Well, Ribestein,” said the marshal to his accomplice, “we are getting on very well. The emperor’s only remaining heirs are the Harlungs, Imbreke and Fritele, who live at Breisach, on the Rhine, with their governor Eckehart; and then Dietrich of Bern. The Harlungs and the hero are both brother’s children. You were not born and brought up in Romaburg, so I will tell you the story.

“Ermenrich’s grandfather left two sons besides him—namely, Dietmar, the father of Dietrich, who received the kingdom of Lombardy, and Dieter, surnamed Harlung, who during his father’s lifetime received the Breisgau and an enormous hoard of red gold. Now listen to this. If we can only get rid of the Harlungs and the hero of Bern—yes, open your eyes and ears as wide as you can—you and I can divide between us the inheritance of Ermenrich!”

Ribestein jumped at the proposal as a fish jumps out of the water with joy on a bright day. He had never thought of such a thing before; but he quickly understood what was required of him, and set about the evil work at once.

The Harlungs were first brought under suspicion. Letters were shown to the emperor purporting to be from Imbreke, Fritele, and even from their governor Eckehart, addressed to different notables of the empire, and setting forth Ermenrich’s crimes in the darkest colours. One of the letters contained the following passage: “Since our liege lord has, in his desperate wickedness, slain his own children, he must himself perish, and that on the highest gallows.” The emperor was so angry when he read these words, that he determined to collect an army, and march against his rebellious nephews.

The troops were called out without any one knowing against whom the campaign was to be made. They marched towards the Rhine till they reached Tralenburg, which belonged to the Harlungs and where the brothers then lived. Two horsemen kept watch by the river. When they saw the armed men, they feared something was wrong, and, dismounting, swam with their horses across the river. They gave the alarm, and all was prepared for defence. Imbreke and Fritele knew the science of war; but they were still very young, and Eckehart, their governor, was detained at Breisach by business of the state. When the Harlungs saw their uncle’s banner, they thought all danger was over; but soon found to their cost that it was a warlike and not a peaceful visit. Wittich and Heime were with the imperial army; but as soon as they learnt Ermenrich’s plans they rode away to Breisach to warn the faithful Eckehart of what was going on. As they journeyed together, they became good friends again.

Tralenburg was at length reduced by fire and taken by storm. Without seeing his nephews, Ermenrich ordered a gallows to be erected, and the two brothers to be at once hung thereon. In those days the word of a mighty potentate was law, and the emperor was obeyed without remonstrance. Ermenrich now took possession of the Harlungs’ land, and sent out men to search for the rich hoard the murdered princes had inherited from their father. It was at length found hidden in a cave. The emperor rewarded his army richly, and kept the rest of the treasure-trove for himself.

Meanwhile Heime had returned. He had come back intending to reproach his liege lord with his evil deed, and to throw up his fief. But on receiving a large share of the booty, he forgot his better purpose. He was entrusted with the care of taking the treasure to Romaburg. When he saw the heap of red gold and precious stones, he took care that a considerable portion of it should find its way to Studa’s grange, and not to Romaburg. Meanwhile curses both loud and deep were uttered in every land against the emperor. Eckehart brought the news of the Harlungs’ fate to Bern, and Dietrich’s wrath burned when he heard it. He said the time would surely come when he could demand expiation from Ermenrich, and punish his evil counsellors Sibich and Ribestein. The fiery young heroes Alphar and his brother Sigestab wished to start at once alone with Eckehart to avenge the murder. But their father Amelolt and Hildebrand persuaded them to wait.

“What is only put off may yet be done,” said Alphar to his brother, laying his hand upon his sword.

Somewhere about this time Sibich and Ribestein met to hold counsel as to what they should do next.

“Another stone is out of the way,” said Sibich; “now we must try to find levers strong enough to move the great rock that stands in our way.”

The accomplices felt that they must be careful and not push matters too fast, for, in the first place, the emperor’s own soul was darkened by the crimes he had committed, and whenever he was alone he was haunted by the unsubstantial ghosts of those whose death he had compassed,—and, in the second place, before declaring war upon the hero of Bern, they felt it would be safer to gain over as many as possible of his comrades to their side. But they were hurried on faster than they wished, for Ermenrich’s uneasy conscience would not let him rest—he must have excitement.

The first step taken was to demand tribute of Dietrich of Bern. So Reinhold of Milan was sent into the land of the Amelungs to levy the tribute. The messenger returned in a few weeks’ time with empty hands. He said that the notables had flatly refused to pay what he demanded, for they had already paid it to the lord of Bern. And Dietrich had desired him to tell the murderer of the Harlungs to come himself and take the tribute, which would be paid him to the last mark at the spear’s point and the sword’s edge.

The emperor sent Heime to Bern to tell Dietrich that if he did not pay the tax, he would come in person and hang him on the highest gallows.

Heime was well received in Bern. Dietrich thought that he had come in memory of old times, but when he delivered the emperor’s message, the hero asked him if he remembered his old oath of fidelity; to which Heime replied that he had served out his bond, that he was now a vassal of the emperor, who had given him land and gold, and to whom he therefore owed service. Therewith he took his leave.

Heime was not long gone, when Wittich appeared. He galloped up to the castle gate.

“Arm, comrades, arm!” he cried, “there is not a moment to lose. Ermenrich approaches with an innumerable army. I rode on before to warn you of his coming. Faithless Sibich intended to have taken you by surprise, and whoever falls into his hands is not far from death.”

Dietrich reminded him of his oath, but like Heime he excused himself, and rode away.

The Norns appeared at this time to have thrown their darkest web over the head of the hero of Bern. One blow struck him after another. From Wittich he hastened to the sick queen Virginal. All night long he held her in his arms. In the morning she died, and grief for her loss prevented his acting with the quick determination usual to him. Master Hildebrand, however, was not idle. He had summoned all the vassals with their following from far and wide in the land of the Amelungs. And the night before the queen’s death, many allied princes joined them; amongst the number, Berchtung of Pola (in Istria), and the king’s faithful comrade, Dietleib of Styria, with all their men.

In the morning the old master called the king, and told him that the time was come to fight for his land and people. The hero of Bern made a mighty effort to master his grief. He pressed a last kiss on the pale lips of his dead wife, and passed away on his march to the great battle.

The emperor had already subdued the duke of Spoleto, and had advanced as far north as Milan. There he encamped, and not suspecting any surprise, he and his men all went to sleep. Meanwhile Dietrich had arrived within a short distance of his camp. While the others rested, Hildebrand rode forward to see what watch the enemy kept, and finding them unprepared, he advised an immediate onslaught.

The imperial forces were suddenly aroused by the battle cry, “Hey for Bern! Hey for the red lion!” They hastily got ready for the fray. The battle raged furiously. Dietrich and his followers were far outnumbered by the foe, but that only made them fight with the more desperation. And which of them could have failed to do his duty under such a leader?

Wolfhart cried, “If we must die, let each man throw his shield behind him, and take his sword in both hands.”

He did as he said, and Sigestab and Eckehart followed his example.

Wittich and Heime fought bravely as of old, but they avoided their former chief, and were at length carried away in the general flight. For the imperial troops were routed by a flank movement made by Hildebrand.

Ermenrich went back to Romaburg in a very bad humour. He felt inclined to hang Sibich and Ribestein for leading him into a scrape, yet he refrained, as he hardly knew what he could have done without them.

Dietrich sent the treasure gained in Milan home to Bern under the charge of some of his comrades, and Berchtung of Pola undertook to provide pack-horses on which to convey it. The convoy travelled by forced marches, but when they reached the lake of Garden, and saw the stars mirrored in its bosom, and heard the plashing of the waterfall, Amelolt thought, that being in the land of the Wolfings, they need no longer fear robbers, and might enjoy a little needful rest. The wearied men hailed his proposition with joy, and, after supping on the provisions in their wallets, soon fell asleep on the soft turf. Hildebrand with ten of his followers tried to keep awake, but they were so tired that the sound of the murmuring water acted on them like a lullaby, and soon they were sleeping as soundly as the rest.

At daybreak they were roughly wakened. Wild faces glared upon them, strong hands bound them, and scornful laughter echoed in their ears. Four of the warriors, who had sought to defend themselves sword in hand, were cut down. The others were all bound and carried away with the treasure.

They had not been prisoners long before the comrades saw that they had fallen into the hands of their deadly enemy—faithless Sibich. He had heard of their journey in charge of the treasure, and had brought his troops by sea to Garden, had lain in wait near the lake, and had then fallen upon the sleeping men. Thus it was that the brave heroes were conquered by cunning.

One warrior had escaped the common misfortune, and this was Dietleib, the hero of Styria. He was sleeping in a thicket a little apart from the rest, when Sibich’s men fell on the camp. Hearing the noise, he sprang to his feet, slew several of the men-at-arms, mounted his horse and fled to Bern, a bearer of sad tidings. He found every one there in great anxiety. Ermenrich had again invaded the country, had taken Milan, Raben (Ravenna), and Mantua, and, worse than that, many of Dietrich’s men had deserted him, and joined the enemy.

The warriors who preserved their faith, and were determined to die with their lord if needful, were few in number. A message was sent to Ermenrich that the hero of Bern was willing to exchange his prisoners of war for his brave comrades. The answer he received was, that he might do with his prisoners as he liked—the warriors the emperor had taken were all condemned to be hanged. This was the worst news Dietrich had ever heard.

Then the lady Ute, Hildebrand’s high-hearted wife, arose, and, accompanied by other noble ladies, went to the enemy’s camp and entered the presence of Ermenrich. She offered him in exchange for the prisoners Sibich had just made, all her jewels, and those of all the other women and maidens of Bern. Ermenrich told her harshly that what she offered him was his already, and that if the king wished his comrades to be set free, he and they must leave the country as beggars, on foot, and leading their horses.

Hildebrand's wife could not bear to hear that. She had fallen on her knees before the emperor; but now she rose, and told him proudly that the heroes of Bern and their wives knew how to die, but not how to leave their country in dishonour. The women left the camp in deep sorrow.

When Dietrich heard the bad news, he had a long struggle with himself. He had been victorious before with smaller numbers to support him, but victory was always uncertain, and how could he allow his dear old master, and noble Berchtung, brave Wolfhart, Amelolt, Sigeband, Helmschrot, and Lindolt, to die a shameful death? It was a hard struggle. At length he bowed his head to necessity. He consented to Ermenrich’s terms.

On being set free from prison, his comrades received their horses and arms again, and then they, and other faithful souls, three and forty men in all, accompanied their lord on his sad journey. There was not a dry eye in Bern when the king went away, and even in foreign lands the fate of Dietrich and his comrades was spoken of with bated breath.

The heroes would not mount their horses when they had crossed the borders of the imperial domains, for the king walked on unheeding over the wild mountain roads. So the small band of brave men wandered through the beautiful Danubian land, and approached Bechelaren, where Margrave Rüdiger held court. There they received a brotherly welcome.