have saved you from a great danger. My father was about to give you a sleeping potion, that he might slip into your room in the night and cut off your head, as he has already done to many a Christian. I now offer you my hand and kingdom, if you will only pretend to follow our faith.”
Wolfdieterich thought of Sigeminne, and turning to Marpilia did his best to convert her to his faith. They spent the whole night talking on these subjects.
The next morning Beligan came, and invited his guest to join him at breakfast, and after that, in a little game of throwing the dagger, explaining that such was their custom. As soon as breakfast was over, they went into the court, where the king’s servants stood round them in a wide circle. The hero laid aside his armour and sword as he was desired, and received a buckler and three sharp and pointed daggers. The heathen took his stand opposite, armed in like manner. The latter flung the first dagger at his opponent’s foot, and he avoided it by springing to one side.
“By the beard of the Prophet,” cried the heathen, “who taught you that? Are you Wolfdieterich, from whom it is foretold that evil shall befall me?”
Wolfdieterich would not confess to his name, but stood ready again for the fight. The second dagger scratched his head, carrying off a bit of the scalp; the third he caught on his buckler.
It was now the hero’s turn to throw. His first dagger pinned the heathen’s left foot to the ground; the second scratched his side; but the third, which he flung with the cry, “I am Wolfdieterich!” struck him to the heart. He was now attacked on all sides, but succeeded in putting his opponents to flight. He then re-entered the castle, put on his armour, took his horse out of the stable, and was about to mount, when he suddenly saw that a wide lake surrounded the castle on every side, and a gale of wind was blowing the great waves so high that there seemed no chance of escape. At the edge of the water stood Marpilia, describing circles in the air and on the ground with a magic wand, and murmuring to herself the while. Riding up to her, he caught her in his arms, and swung her before him on his horse.
“If I am to drown, witch, you shall not escape,” he said.
With these words he spurred his horse into the wild waves, and saw that the waters stretched out farther and farther, until they seemed a sea. He looked around, and saw that only one chance was left him. He flung the witch-woman off his horse; instantly the storm ceased, the waters retired, and he was once more on dry land.
But Marpilia was not drowned. She appeared before him again in all her beauty, stretching out her arms as if to embrace him, but he threatened her with his drawn sword. Then she changed into a magpie, flew to the top of a high rock, and sought from thence to entangle him with new enchantments, each more terrible than the other. At last, thoroughly spent with fatigue, he exclaimed, “Help me, Thou Three in One, or I die.”
Scarcely had he uttered the words when the witch vanished, the sun shone once more upon mount and vale, and before him lay the broad road that led to Lombardy.
After meeting with many adventures by land and water, he travelled through a wild mountain region, and there he fell in with a giantess, an old friend of his father, who received him very kindly, and told him, amongst other things, of the sad fate of Ortnit and Liebgart. Although her tale diminished his hopes of help, he was yet determined to continue his journey. The giantess said it would take an eternity travelling as he did, horses were so slow! With that she picked up both horse and rider, and carried them pick-a-back on her broad shoulders three hundred and fifty miles in one day, over mountains, valleys and rivers, and set him down in the fair land of Lombardy.
It was a beautiful moonlight night when Wolfdieterich reached Garden. He dismounted, and standing under the shadow of an olive-tree, he looked about him. He saw two women walking on the sea-shore. One of them was tall and stately. When she threw back her veil, he nearly uttered a cry of astonishment, she was so like Sigeminne. Had the grave given up its dead, or had some deceitful elf taken the beloved form to lead him into danger?
He stood breathless to listen, and heard Queen Liebgart, for it was she, complain to her serving-maid of the manifold sorrows and indignities she had been forced to endure.
“The cowardly vassals!” she said. “They have courage enough to frighten a weak woman, but no one dares to do the only thing that I desire on earth—to avenge the death of their king on the monster that killed him. And yet I have promised, although unwillingly, to give my hand to the true knight and hero that will do this thing!”
“There is only one man,” said the maid, “who could do the deed, and that is the Greek Wolfdieterich, whose fame is spread abroad in every land.”
“The avenger is come, great queen,” said the hero, stepping out of the shade where he had stood. “I will venture my life to conquer the dragon.”
The two women started back in alarm.
“It is Wolfdieterich!” cried the maid. “He once saved me from a band of robbers.”
“Thanks, noble hero,” said Liebgart, “and may Heaven protect you on your quest! But—the monster will take your life as it did my husband’s. Nay, go your way in peace, and leave me to my fate.”
But when the Greek showed her that his mind was firm, Liebgart gave him a ring which the dwarf had told her would bring good luck to the wearer, wished him all success, and then returned to Castle Garden.
Without more delay the hero turned his horse to the mountains, and made the best of his way to the lind-worm’s hole, which at length he reached. He peeped into the dark cavern, and saw five dragons’ heads staring and hissing at him. These were the young “worms”—the old one had gone out to seek for food. The hero was about to slay them there and then, but it suddenly occurred to him that it would be better if the old worm knew nothing of his coming, and it would be an easy task to kill the little ones when the mother was dead. So remounting his horse, he set out in search of the monster. As he rode on slowly, he saw a beautiful child standing on a rock. It called to him,—
“You are come to revenge my son Ortnit; beware that you sleep not, for if you sleep my son will remain unrevenged, and you will fall a prey to the dragon.”
“My good friend,” laughed the hero, “you are too young to be a father. I advise you to look out for yourself. You would be a sweeter morsel for the monster than I!”
And setting spurs to his horse, he rode away laughing. Like Ortnit, he came first to the high cliffs, and then to the meadow, where clover grass and flowers grew in wonderful profusion. A linden-tree shaded part of it from the heat of the mid-day sun. The hero was tired after his long journey and wakeful night. He stretched himself in the shade to rest, while his horse grazed in the meadow. Fatigue, the fresh sweet air, and the song of the birds in the branches overhead, all combined to make him drowsy, so he gradually fell asleep.
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
