In the fair midsummer season was that mighty murder wrought, When Kriemhild for her heart's anguish revenge so dearly bought On her own nearest kinsfolk and on many guiltless men, By reason whereof King Etzel knew never joy again. (C) But so grim and great a murder had she purposed not at the first: Nay, in the strife's beginning one thought in her breast she nursed, { P. 286} That Hagen alone by her vengeance to a bloody end should come:-- But therein was the Foul Fiend working to fashion for all one doom.
The day was past: the heroes were now in evil strait. Weary and famished, it seemed them swift death were a better fate Than long to linger in torment of hunger and thirst and pain. Wherefore the knights high-hearted for a truce with their foes were fain. They asked that the King might meet them before the feast-hall door. Then the heroes with armour-soilure blackened, and red with gore, Strode forth of the hall, and amidst them stood the Princes three: But their haggard eyes found nowhere one glance of sympathy.
And now stand Etzel and Kriemhild that place of death before-- Theirs is the whole land, therefore waxeth their host evermore-- Then spake the King to the King's guests: "Say, what would ye of me? Haply for peace ye petition? Hardly this may be After the wrongs ye have done me, and your ruthless work of death. Ye shall not in any wise win it so long as I draw breath. My child whom ye have murdered, and all my friends laid low-- Look ye for peace and forgiveness for these? In sooth, not so!"
"Enforced," made answer Gunther, "were we by a grievous wrong. Within their lodging murdered were all mine henchman-throng, Murdered by thine own heroes!--whereby had I earned such meed? I came to thee trustful-hearted, I held thee a friend indeed!" Then spake of the Princes Burgundian the youngest, Giselher: "Ye warriors of King Etzel which be yet alive, give ear. What have ye against me, heroes? What have I done unto you, I, who to this land journeyed with loving heart and true?" "_Thy love!_" they replied: "our castles are filled by reason thereof With mourning, and all our country! We well could have spared thy love, Hadst thou never journeyed hither from Worms beyond the Rhine! The whole land lieth orphaned through thee and those brethren of thine!"