Dietrich, that was with Hildebrand, heard him. He came where both the knights stood outside the house, leaning against the wall. Good Dietrich laid down his shield, and, moved with deep woe, he said, “Why hast thou so entreated a homeless knight? What had I done to thee? Thou hast ended all my joy. Thou deemedst it too little to have slain Rudeger to our scathe; now thou hast robbed me of all my men. I had never done the like to you, O knights. Think on yourselves and your loss—the death of your friends, and your travail. By reason thereof are ye not heavy of your cheer? Alack! how bitter to me is Rudeger’s death! There was never such woe in this world. Ye have done evilly by me and by yourselves. All the joy I had ye have slain. How shall I ever mourn enough for all my kinsmen?” “We are not alone to blame,” answered Hagen. “Your knights came hither armed and ready, with a great host. Methinketh the tale hath not been told thee aright.” “What shall I believe then? Hildebrand said that when my knights of Amelung begged you to give them Rudeger’s body, ye answered mockingly, as they stood below.” Then said the prince of the Rhineland. “They told me they were come to bear Rudeger hence. I denied them, not to anger thy men, but to grieve Etzel withal. Whereat Wolfhart flew in a passion.” Said the prince of Bern, “There is nothing for it. Of thy knightliness, atone to me for the wrong thou hast done me, and I will avenge it no further. Yield thee captive, thee and thy man, and I will defend thee to the uttermost against the wrath of the Huns. Thou wilt find me faithful and true.” “God in Heaven forbid,” cried Hagen, “that two knights, armed as we are for battle, should yield them to thee! I would hold it a great shame, and ill done.” “Deny me not,” said Dietrich. “Ye have made me heavy-hearted enow, O Gunther and Hagen; and it is no more than just, that ye make it good. I swear to you, and give you my hand thereon, that I will ride back with you to your own country. I will bring you safely thither, or die with you, and forget my great wrong for your sakes.” “Ask us no more,” said Hagen. “It were a shameful tale to tell of us, that two such bold men yielded them captive. I see none save Hildebrand by thy side.” Hildebrand answered, “Ye would do well to take my master’s terms; the hour will come, or long, when ye would gladly take them, but may not have them.” “Certes, I had liefer do it,” said Hagen, “than flee mine adversary like a coward, as thou didst, Master Hildebrand. By my troth, I deemed thou hadst withstood a foeman better.” Cried Hildebrand, “Thou needest not to twit me. Who was it that, by the wask-stone, sat upon his shield when Walter of Spain slew so many of his kinsmen? Thou, thyself, art not void of blame.”