SO Brunhilde and the Lord of Burgundy were wedded, and, after many days spent in feasting and merriment, Gunther told his queen that they must prepare for the return voyage. It was some time since he and his friends had set out on their journey to Isenland, and he feared that if he stayed much longer at Brunhilde’s palace, his own people would give them up for dead. Then he went secretly to Siegfried, and with a shamed, flushed face he said: “My friend and brother, I have come to ask your help in a strange matter. I cannot return to Burgundy with a wife who is my master, even as Brunhilde is now, for I shall become the laughing-stock of all my people. The queen of Isenland does not love me, and she treats me each day with more contempt. She does not scruple to insult me by making me the victim of her great strength, which I am powerless to meet. Her might—which no other woman has ever equalled—depends on a wonderful girdle which she wears; and when I tried to wrest this from her, she tied me hand and foot and hung me on a nail in the chamber wall. Only by my promising never to trouble her again was I able to get release.”

Siegfried felt sorry indeed for Gunther’s plight, and he offered to try and subdue the warrior queen to her husband’s will. So that night he assumed the form of Gunther, and wrestled with Brunhilde until he had taken from her the wonderful girdle in which lay all her unwomanly strength. He also took from her finger the serpent ring of Andvari which he himself had given her when they had talked together on the mountain. Brunhilde, being now quite ready to obey her lord, believing that he was truly her master by virtue of his superior strength, prepared for her departure from Isenland, and took with her as many of her own followers as Gunther would allow. He besought her not to overburden the good ship which had brought them thither with chests of raiment and household goods, since Queen Ute could amply provide all that Brunhilde might desire.

As to the wealth she had at her command, he bade her leave all that behind, for the rich lands of Burgundy yielded more than enough to satisfy the proudest heart. The queen therefore opened her chests full of gold and silver and divided them among her knights and among the poor of her kingdom. Her rich robes, and all the costly apparel she had worn, she gave to her maidens, and arranged to take with her only a small part of her possessions. While preparations were being made for the departure of Brunhilde to the country of her liege lord and husband, Hagen was fuming uneasily at the long delay, and predicting all manner of misfortunes if they did not speedily leave Isenland. Gunther tried to allay his fears and said:—

“You are restless, Hagen, because you are old, and cannot share your lord’s joy in having won this peerless maiden for his queen. There is really no cause for alarm, for the people here are friendly to us now that I am their acknowledged king. Besides, have we not Siegfried with us, and how can we fear any harm when he is here to protect us?”

“Yes, yes,” answered Hagen, angrily, “to be sure we have Siegfried with us, but it is always Siegfried whom we have to lean on like a babe on its mother. Before he came among us, we ourselves were counted warriors worthy to be feared; but now it is always Siegfried who fights our battles, guides our ship, and brings us out of all our difficulties. It is Siegfried, too, who wins us a warrior maiden whom we would never have conquered alone, weak and nerveless men that we are. It is Siegfried, always Siegfried, and I hate his very name.”

“Nay, now, good Hagen,” said the king, soothingly, “these things should not provoke you to jealousy, but rather make you hold the youth in respect and honour. What would Burgundy do without Siegfried?”

“That is just it,” retorted Hagen, bitterly. “Burgundy is naught except as she holds this foreign prince in her court. She boasts no warrior so valiant, no soldier so dear to her people, as this man who came to us a stranger. Better far that he should return to his own country than to stay longer among us.”

“Nay, nay,” answered Gunther; “if Siegfried is so beloved by our people, it is a greater reason for his remaining with them.” But Hagen shook his head, and muttered something which the king did not understand.

Everything was at last ready for Brunhilde’s departure, and she bade a sorrowful farewell to all her household and to all the people of Isenland. Then she embarked on the white-sailed ship with the four Burgundian warriors. In a few days she was far out of sight of the land she loved, and was being borne toward a country unfamiliar and unwelcome. For even though she had been forced to own herself conquered in the games, Brunhilde had never been willing to become Gunther’s wife, or to go with him to his home across the sea.

The voyage was quickly and pleasantly spent to all except the queen, who sat upon the deck, moody and silent, ignoring all Gunther’s efforts to divert her. Siegfried felt happy at the thought of returning to the beautiful Kriemhild, though his heart was heavy with fear that the coming of Brunhilde to Burgundy would bring trouble and sorrow in its train. The evident dislike which the queen felt for King Gunther boded no good for the future to him or to his friends. Only toward Hagen did she show any kindness, and her overtures of friendship were, strange to say, very willingly met by the grim, reserved man. She would talk for hours with Hagen when no one else could get from her a moment’s notice, and the gray-haired old warrior seemed ever ready to please and serve her.

At last the voyage was over, and the king was again in his own land and among his own people. Great rejoicing was made over his return, and feasts were held for many days in honour of the wonderful maiden who was now King Gunther’s wife. But though everything was done for her pleasure, and many princes of the provinces of Burgundy came to do homage to their queen, Brunhilde remained ever moody and silent. The gentle Kriemhild tried in vain to induce her to join in the feasting and merriment, but Brunhilde refused, almost angrily, and sat apart, brooding over her unhappy lot. After a time Gunther sought his mother, Queen Ute, and begged her to give Brunhilde some drink which would make her forget Isenland, and so be content to dwell with him. Queen Ute shook her head, and said sadly that she had nothing which could accomplish this for him.

The king went next to Hagen and said: “You have won Brunhilde’s confidence, my uncle. Tell me, therefore, why the queen is silent and unhappy.”

At this Hagen laughed mockingly and whispered: “Ask your noble friend Siegfried whom you love and trust so fully what it is that makes Brunhilde’s heart so heavy with longing, and so full of bitterness. He can tell you far better than I.” But shame and pride forbade Gunther to go again with his troubles to Siegfried, so he kept silent, and waited for time to cure the queen’s grief.

Things went on in this way for some time, for nothing seemed to change the haughty queen, or soften her dislike for all of Gunther’s household except Hagen. He remained her devoted follower, and her one confidant and friend. Toward the gentle Kriemhild she showed both jealousy and aversion, though the sweet, friendly wife of Siegfried was at a loss to understand the reason for her sister-in-law’s behaviour.

On his return to Burgundy, Siegfried had been unwise enough to tell Kriemhild of the stratagem by which he had won Brunhilde for the king, and how later he had wrestled with the mighty queen, and taken from her the magic girdle. He also gave Kriemhild the serpent ring which Brunhilde had prized more than all her possessions, but which she had yielded when—as she supposed—Gunther had outmatched her in strength. All this trickery Brunhilde did not as yet even suspect, so Kriemhild wondered at her ill-concealed hatred of the king.

One day Brunhilde and Kriemhild were walking together in the palace garden, and as they were about to enter the great feasting hall, Kriemhild, being a little in advance of the queen, was just crossing the doorway when Brunhilde called out angrily,—

“Do you presume to enter before me, your queen? you who are the wife of a vassal?”

“I am no vassal,” retorted Kriemhild, quickly, “for Siegfried owns allegiance neither to you nor to any other.”

“That is a lie,” cried Brunhilde, wrathfully, “for when Siegfried came to Isenland, he declared that Gunther was his liege lord, and himself a humble vassal.”

“That was only to save your pride,” answered Kriemhild, now dropping her angry tone, for she saw that the queen was in a towering rage.

“Gunther deceived me, then,” stormed Brunhilde, furiously; then she added mockingly, “Since Siegfried is no vassal of the king’s, I suppose he is a much greater and richer prince; that he is braver also, and stronger, and could outstrip the king in a contest of strength such as that in which Gunther won me for his wife.”

“Even so,” replied Kriemhild, “for it was really Siegfried who outdid you in the games, and not Gunther at all. It was Siegfried, too, who wrested from you the girdle and the ring, and he gave them to me as a trophy dearly won.” As she said this, Kriemhild showed her two possessions and then passed quietly into the hall, while Brunhilde stood at the door too bewildered by her words to speak.

At length she realized the meaning of Kriemhild’s speech. Full of anger and fearful suspicion, she sought out Hagen, and demanded that he should tell her all he knew of Siegfried’s part in the contest. And Hagen told her how Siegfried had put on his Tarnkappe and stood before the king unseen; how he, and not Gunther, had flung the spear, and hurled the stone and made the wonderful leap; how it was Siegfried alone who had gained the victory, and he who should rightfully have won her.

Upon hearing this, Brunhilde wept in anger and sorrow, and said bitterly: “I might have known that none but Siegfried could claim the warrior queen for his bride. That fool and weakling, King Gunther, is no mate for Brunhilde, and never would he have called me wife had I not been tricked and deceived. He is a coward, and merits all the hatred and contempt I have shown him.” Then her anger grew fiercer than ever, and she swore vengeance upon those who had wronged her.

“Cherish not your wrath against the king,” said Hagen, “for it is Siegfried who has brought this shame upon you. He has been a source of evil ever since he came among us, and he will yet be the king’s bane; yea, and thine also. It were better that he died,—and soon.”

“He shall die,” cried Brunhilde. “I will call Gunther hither and taunt him with his weakness and cowardice. Then if he is a man, he will avenge me of this insult which Kriemhild has put upon me.”

So she summoned the king to her presence and poured forth the story of her wrongs, bidding him slay Siegfried if he ever hoped to merit anything but her hatred and contempt. The king listened to her words, but though he felt ashamed of the sorry part he had played, he would not give her the promise she desired, for he loved Siegfried, and could not find it in his heart to kill him, even to win Brunhilde’s love.

Seeing that neither threats nor pleading would move the king to do what she desired, Hagen begged the queen to leave them, and give Gunther more time to make his decision. So Brunhilde went away, and when Hagen was sure that there was no danger of her returning, he came close to the king and whispered:—

“Blind fool that you are! Do you not see even yet why the queen has been unhappy ever since she came to Burgundy? She loves your friend Siegfried, and it is he whom she would fain call husband and lord!” Then he left the king alone, and Gunther sat for a long time thinking over what Hagen had said. He felt discouraged and sick at heart; for he knew that he was unable to solve the difficulties before him, or to avert the dreadful fate which seemed to be overshadowing him and all his household.