“Tell me now, fair sister, where may your children be
Whom you have borne to Hartmut, in his land across the sea,
That all alone on the seashore to wash they thus allow you?
If here a queen they call you, the name you bear but little good can do you.”
Shedding tears, she answered: “How should I have a child?
No love could Hartmut kindle, that I to him should yield;
And well do all men know it who near him here are dwelling.
Because I would not love him I now must toil, and woe my heart is swelling.”
Then spake the knightly Herwic: “We now can truly say
That we good luck have met with, on our errand far away;
And nought could have befallen that for us were better.
It behooves us now to hasten to free the maid from the ills that here beset her.”
Then said the knight, young Ortwin: “That may never be.
Had I a hundred sisters, I would sooner let them die
Than here, in another’s kingdom, to hide a deed of plunder;
Stealing those from our foemen whom they by stormy fight from us did sunder.”
Then spake the lord of Sealand: “This do I greatly fear,
Should our search be known to any, or if they find us here,
They then may take the maiden, and her far hence may carry,
And never shall we see her: ’twere best to hide the deed, nor longer tarry.”
Him did Ortwin answer: “How can we leave in need
Her faithful band of maidens? So long a stay they’ve made
Here in this land of foemen that well may they be weary:
Gudrun, my worthy sister, should ne’er forsake her maids, in bondage dreary.”
To him then spake brave Herwic: “Is this in truth your mind?
Ne’er shall my well-belovèd be left by me behind;
To take the ladies with us, e’en as we can, ’tis better.”
Him did Ortwin answer: “Here to be hacked with the sword for me were fitter.”
Then said the downcast maiden: “What have I done to thee,
My dearest brother Ortwin? Never as yet in me
Was seen such ill-behavior that I for that was chidden.
For what great sin I know not am I, my lord, to make atonement bidden?”
“I do not thus, dear sister, for want of love to thee;
Thereby your band of maidens I shall the better free.
Only as fits my honor, hence will I ever take you;
Herwic for your lover you yet shall have, and ne’er will he forsake you.”
Gudrun was heavy-hearted as they went on board the boat;
She said: “Woe worth my wanderings! my sorrow endeth not.
He whom once I trusted, must hope in him be shaken
That he will break my bondage? My bliss is yet far off, and my faith mistaken.”
In haste the daring warriors turned from the shore away.
Gudrun, the maid, heart-broken, to Herwic called to stay:
“Of me you once thought highly, but now you hold me lightly:
To whom, in my woe, do you leave me? Bereft of kin, to whom can I trust me rightly?”
“I do not hold you lightly; you are of maids the best.
My coming, queenly lady, hide within your breast;
Again, ere morning lightens, these shores will I be treading—
For this my troth I pledge you— eighty thousand followers with me leading.”
As fast as they were able they hastened then away;
Never friends were sundered more sadly than that day
Were these from one another; (the truth to you I’m telling.)
As far as their eyes could follow, the maidens watched the boat away fast sailing.
Gudrun, the queenly maiden, her washing now forgot;
Betwixt her bliss and sorrow, her toil she heeded not.
The harsh and wicked Gerlind, the idle women spying
Standing by the seashore, in anger stormed, that her clothes unwashed were lying.
Then said the maiden Hildeburg, from Ireland, o’er the sea:
“Why do you let the clothing here uncared for be?
The clothes of Ludwig’s followers still unwashed are waiting.
If this be known to Gerlind, yet harder blows from her shall we be getting.”
Queen Hilda’s daughter answered: “Too proud I am, I ween,
That for the wicked Gerlind I e’er should wash again.
Henceforth a toil so lowly in scorn shall I be holding,
For two young kings have kissed me, they in kindness me in their arms enfolding.”
Then Hildeburg made answer: “Scorn not that I should teach
Or that I now would show you how best the clothes to bleach:
We must not leave them yellow, but carefully must whiten;
Else do I greatly fear me our backs with blows and stripes will well be beaten.”
Then said old Hagen’s grandchild: “At last my lot is bright,
With hope and gladness beaming. If they my back shall smite
With rods, from now till morning, I trow it will not kill me;
But soon shall those who wronged us know themselves the ills they chose to deal me.
“These clothes I should be washing down to the tide I’ll bear,
And fling them into the water,” said the maiden fair;
“Their freedom I will give them, even as ’tis fitting
That I, a queen, should do it; hence they may float away, no hindrance meeting.”
Whate’er was said by Hildeburg, Gudrun the clothes then took,
That Gerlind her had given; her task she would not brook,
But far into the billows she threw them, strongly hurling:
I know not if ever she found them; they soon were lost to sight, in the waters swirling.
The night was drawing nearer, and the light began to wane;
To the castle, heavy-laden, went Hildeburg again.
Seven robes of finest linen she bore, with other clothing;
Gudrun, young Ortwin’s sister, with Hildeburg went also, bearing nothing.
When they had reached the castle, the time was very late.
Before King Ludwig’s palace, standing at the gate,
They saw the wicked Gerlind, watching there to meet them:
Soon as she saw the washers, with words of bitter scorn she ’gan to greet them.
Thus she spake in anger: “What does this gadding mean?
Stripes upon your bodies you both have earned, I ween,
Thus upon the seashore, in the evening light, to wander;
For me it were unseemly into my room to take you, after loitering yonder.”
She said: “Now tell me quickly, think you this is meet?
You spurn the greatest princes, and show them nought but hate,
But linger yet, at nightfall, with low-born varlets flirting.
Would you be thought of highly, know you that this your own good name is hurting.”
The well-born maiden answered: “Why speak of me so ill?
Never have I, poor maiden, had the thought or will
With any man to tattle, however dear I held him,
Unless it were a kinsman; a talk with him I rightfully might yield him.”
“Say you I chide you wrongly? Hush, you idle jade!
For this, to-night, I tell you, a reckoning shall be made.
To be so bold and shameless you then will dare no longer;
Before
