For seven years, full-numbered, in a land far over the water,
The maid was toiling wearily, and none did hold her as a kingly daughter.
The years had long been running, and the ninth was coming on,
When Hartmut to bethink him wisely had begun,
That indeed ’twas shameful that he no crown was wearing;
And for himself and his kinsmen ’twas right the name of king he now were bearing.
After heavy fighting, Hartmut, with his men,
Bearing the prize of bravery, riding home was seen.
He hoped the love of the maiden would now to him be granted;
For, more than any other, he the fair Gudrun for his true love wanted.
When he reached his homestead, he bade them bring the maid.
His evil mother, Gerlind, allowed her to be clad
In meanest clothing only: Gudrun but little heeded
The youthful Hartmut’s wooing; steadfast and true, no love from him she needed.
To him his friends then whispered, that, whether glad or no
For this might be his mother, he never should forego
To bend the maid to his wishes; and must his care be giving
That so he might with the lady for many a happy day in love be living.
To the ladies’ room he hastened, when thus his kinsmen spoke,
And there he found the maiden; her by the hand he took,
And said to her: “Fair lady, love me now, I pray you,
And sit as queen beside me; my knights and men shall worship ever pay you.”
Then said the lovely maiden: “For this I have no mind;
For while the fiendish Gerlind to me is so unkind,
The love of knights, though worthy, I can long for never.
To her and all her kindred henceforth am I a bitter foe forever.”
“Sorry am I,” said Hartmut; “to you will I make good
The hate my mother Gerlind to you so harshly showed;
As for both of us is worthy, your wrongs shall now be righted.”
The high-born maiden answered: “I trust you not; your word need ne’er be plighted.”
Then said to her young Hartmut, the lord of the Norman land:
“Gudrun, most lovely maiden, you well must understand
Mine are these lands and castles: to none may you betake you;
Who is there here would hang me if, ’gainst your will, I now my own should make you?”
Then said King Hettel’s daughter: “That were a deed of shame:
Of aught so wrong and hateful never did I dream.
It would be said by princes, should they the tale be hearing,
That one of the kin of Hagen in Hartmut’s land a harlot’s name is bearing.”
Then did Hartmut answer: “What care I what they say?
If only you, fair lady, do not say me nay,
A king my men shall see me, and you my seat be sharing.”
Then said the maid to Hartmut: “That I should love you be you never fearing.
“Well you know, Sir Hartmut, how with me it stands;
And all the wrong and sorrow I met with at your hands,
When far from home you carried me whom you had stolen,
And, wounded by your warriors, my father’s men erewhile in death had fallen.
“Well known to you ’tis also, —for this I mourn again—
How my father, Hettel, was by your father slain.
Were I knight, and not a woman, he durst not come before me
Unless his weapons wearing. Why wed the man who from my kindred tore me?”
For many years now bygone, it ever was the way,
No man should take a woman, and have her in his sway,
Unless they both were willing. Much praise for this is owing.
Gudrun, the homeless maiden, her father’s loss still mourned, with tears o’erflowing.
Then spake to her in anger Hartmut, the youthful knight:
“Whatever may befall you, I reck not for your plight;
Since now you are not willing to wear the crown beside me,
You’ll have what you are seeking, your meed you’ll daily earn, nor need you chide me.”
“That will I earn most gladly, as I have done before,
Though for the men of Hartmut the hardest toil I bore,
And for Queen Gerlind’s women. If God my wrongs forgetteth,
To bear them I am willing; but heavy is the woe that me besetteth.”
Still they sought to soothe her: first to the court they sent
Young Ortrun, Hartmut’s sister, whose looks all kindness meant;
’Twas hoped that she and her maidens, now by friendly dealing,
Would bring Gudrun, poor lone one, to bear towards them all a better feeling.
Then to his sister Ortrun Hartmut freely spake:
“Wealth I will give you, sister, if kindly, for my sake,
To me you will be helpful, and bring Gudrun, fair lady,
Soon to forget her sorrows; nor o’er her woes to brood be ever ready.”
Then spake the youthful Ortrun, the Norman maiden fair:
“To help both her and her maidens shall ever be my care,
Till they forget their sorrows: I bow my head before her,
And I and mine will hold her even as our kin, and watchful love spread o’er her.”
Gudrun now said to Ortrun: “My hearty thanks you win,
That you, with kindly wishes, would see me sit as queen,
By the side of Hartmut, while with pride I’m gladdened:
For this my trust I give you, but homeless, none the less, my days are saddened.”
Tale XXI
How Gudrun Must Wash Clothes on the Beach
Gudrun receives better treatment, but, still refusing to marry Hartmut, she is sent to wash clothes on the seashore. Hildeburg, one of her maidens, obtains permission to share her labors, which are continued through many years.
Then to Gudrun they offered castles strong and lands:
Of these would she have nothing. So, upon the sands,
She must wash their clothing, from early morn till even.
Great ill this wrought for Ludwig, when he with Herwic in the fight had striven.
First, Gudrun was bidden to leave her seat, that soon
She, the high-born maiden, should go with fair Ortrun;
They bade that she be merry, and wine with her be drinking.
The homeless wanderer answered: “To make me queen you never need be thinking.
“Well you wot, Lord Hartmut, whate’er your wish may be,
Betrothed am I to another, and am no longer free.
That I one day shall wed him has with an oath been plighted;
Until by death he’s taken I will not wed with any man e’er knighted.”
Then spake the lordly Hartmut: “You only waste your breath;
By nought shall we be sundered unless it shall be death.
In friendship with my sister you should now be living;
Your hardships she will lighten, and will, I know, her love to you be giving.”
Fain to think was Hartmut that her unyielding mood
Might now by this be softened; he hoped, whatever good
Should e’er befall his sister, the maiden would be sharing:
Thus for both he trusted, that a happy life erelong would them be
