Epics and Romances of the Middle Ages. Wilhelm WägnerЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Perfect peace reigned in the quiet spot. It seemed as though it might last for ever, but suddenly it was broken by a horrible hissing, a crashing of rocks and breaking of trees. The dreadful monster, the terror of the land, was drawing near. At the same moment Alberich exclaimed:

      “Wake, noble hero; sleep no more; the lind-worm is upon you.”

      The dwarf repeated his warning several times in vain. The faithful horse galloped up to his master, and kicked him, but he did not awake. It was not until the dragon gave utterance to a loud and hideous roar, that made the rocks crack and the mountains tremble, that the hero was at last aroused from his trance. He sprang to his feet and attacked the monster; but his weapons were all too weak for the work they had to do—they broke like reeds on the creature’s hide, without doing it any injury. So he flung the handle of his broken sword in the monster’s face, and commended his soul to God, for he was defenceless. The worm caught him up in the coils of its long tail, and at the same moment seized the horse in its great jaws. Then it bore its victims away to its den, and threw them down as food for its young. After which, it went away again in search of more food. The little dragons tried to devour Wolfdieterich, but could not, he was so well protected by his shirt of palm-silk, so they thrust him aside unconscious, and turned their attention to the horse, which they soon disposed of.

      In the middle of the night Wolfdieterich came to himself, and began to look about him carefully. The moonlight penetrated the cavern, and showed him at a little distance something that shone bright red. He moved towards it cautiously for fear of waking the dragons, and found that the object which had attracted his eye was a huge carbuncle in a sword-hilt. He at once knew that this must be the sword Rosen, and took possession of it, as well as of the rest of Ortnit’s armour that he found lying uninjured amongst other coats of mail, which however were all more or less broken. With the armour he found a ring. This he put upon his finger. His preparations were no sooner completed than daybreak came, and with it the old lind-worm. He at once attacked her, and, thanks to the magic sword, slew her and all her brood after a hard struggle. Thoroughly exhausted, he threw himself under a tree, where he lay panting and breathless. There Alberich found him, and revived him with food and wine.

      Before the victorious hero set out on his return to Garden, he went back into the dragon’s den to get the heads of the monsters; but when he had cut them off, he found that they were much too heavy to carry, so he contented himself with taking their tongues. These he put in a leather bag that one of Alberich’s dwarfs brought him for the purpose, and then began his journey, which was made longer and more wearisome by having to be done on foot. He often lost his way amongst the wild mountains, and did not reach his destination for many days.

      When he got to Garden, he found the castle full of feasting and mirth. Wondering much, he went to a pious hermit who lived near, and asked him the meaning of what was going on. From him he learnt that the Burgrave Gerhart had slain the lind-worm, and was to be married to beautiful Liebgart that very evening. Wolfdieterich then begged the holy man to lend him priestly garments, and having received those that had formerly belonged to brother Martin, the hermit’s predecessor, he put them on over the armour he had found in the dragon’s cave, and repaired to the castle.

      He entered the great hall, and saw Burgrave Gerhart, nicknamed “Hawk’s Nose,” seated next to the pale queen, who, with her maidens, filled the glasses of the guests. Above the Burgrave’s chair were the dragons’ heads, symbols of his victory. When the queen saw the pretended hermit, she took him a cup of wine, which he emptied at a draught, and then gave back, after having slipped into it the ring she had given him on the evening he started on his quest. Liebgart did not notice the ring till she had returned to her seat by Gerhart’s side. Then she trembled violently, but forcing down her emotion, she desired the hermit to approach, and tell her from whom he got the ring.

      “Lady, you gave it me yourself,” he said, throwing aside his disguise.

      Every eye was fixed on him as he stood in the middle of the hall, clad in Ortnit’s wondrous armour, and looking more like a god than a mortal man. When, advancing to the queen, he laid her husband’s ring in her hand, and told her how and where he had found it, many voices cried, “Hail to the avenger of our king, the slayer of the dragon and its brood! Hail to the new king of Lombardy!”

      Burgrave Gerhart was not to be put aside so easily. He pointed to the dragons’ heads as proofs of his right; but when Wolfdieterich produced the tongues from his wallet, there was no more to be said but for Burgrave Gerhart to beg the hero’s pardon. This he received on condition of swearing fealty.

      Wolfdieterich was now proclaimed king of Lombardy, and was told that he was expected to marry the queen.

      “My lords,” he said, “as ruler of this kingdom, I am also the servant of my people, and am bound to labour for their welfare. But as regards personal matters, such as the choice of a wife, I must be free, and the queen must also be free to choose as she lists. She is yet mourning the loss of her first husband. But if she holds me worthy to succeed him, and thinks that my love and reverence will comfort her for his loss, I offer her my hand for life.”

      Liebgart, remembering what Ortnit had said to her, placed her hand in the hero’s, and was married to him before long.

      Wolfdieterich was no longer the impetuous boy who had left Lilienporte, but a man who could act with wisdom, prudence and forethought. He felt that his first duty was to restore peace and quiet to Lombardy, and that only after that was done would he be at liberty to consult his own wishes, and start to the assistance of his faithful servants. A year was spent in this labour, and then he told his wife that he must go to Lilienporte. She wept and said that she feared lest, like Ortnit, he should never return, but in the same breath confessed that he was right, and helped him to make ready for his journey and that of his army, which was to number sixty thousand men.

      Winds and waves were in their favour, and the army landed at a short distance from Constantinople. Whilst the men encamped in a wood, the king set out in peasant’s clothes to pick up all the news he could learn. After spending hours wandering about the city, and hearing nothing that was of any use to him, he chanced to meet Ortwin, a gaoler, and a former acquaintance of his. The man carried a basket filled with black bread. The hero went to him and asked him to give him a loaf for Wolfdieterich’s sake. The man looked at him keenly, and recognised him.

      “Ah, sire,” he said, “things have gone badly here with us. The good old empress died during the siege of Lilienporte. When the fortress capitulated, the noble duke Berchtung and his sons were put in irons and flung into a dark and dismal dungeon. Death soon put an end to the old man’s pain, but the ten young lords are still kept in strict confinement, and I may bring them no better food than a daily supply of this black bread and water.”

      Wolfdieterich was miserable when he thought that he was not without guilt with respect to his mother and his old friend. He could do nothing for them now, but he might still do something for the ten faithful servants who yet remained. He arranged with Ortwin that they should have better food, and should be cheered by the hope of a speedy deliverance. The old gaoler went on his way, and the king returned to his people.

      He found his men already under arms, for they told him that Sabene had discovered not only that they were there, but what had brought them.

      The armies met, and the battle raged long and furiously, without either side getting the better of the other. But at last the fortune of the day turned. The citizens of Constantinople rose in revolt against the tyranny that had ground them down so long, hastened to the prison, and set Berchtung’s ten brave sons at liberty. Having done this, they put themselves under their command, and marched to the assistance of Wolfdieterich. It was a glorious victory. The hero was proclaimed emperor on the battle-field.

      Soon after their return to the capital, Sabene and the royal brothers were brought before their judges. The first was sentenced to death, and was at once led away to instant execution; the death of the two latter was likewise demanded by both people and army, and Wolfdieterich knew that they were guilty of causing the death of their mother and that of old Berchtung, and had brought upon him all the troubles and difficulties of his early youth. Yet he could not decide what was best to be done, and reserved judgment until the following