At this, Kriemhild opened her heart to Hagen, and having full faith in his honesty and loyalty, confided to him how, when Siegfried had covered himself with the fat of the dragons, a linden leaf had fallen between his shoulders, leaving one spot wherein he might come to harm. Thereupon she charged him anew to guard Siegfried well, lest in the heat of battle some foe should wound him from the rear. Overjoyed with the success of his strategy, Hagen counselled Kriemhild to mark this spot upon Siegfried’s garment, that he might be the better able to shield him, and vowing to bide faithfully at his side in battle, took his leave. That same evening Kriemhild took the outer garment of her beloved spouse and wrought with finest silk upon it a small red cross--his death mark, alas! for Hagen saw and fixed the spot well in his mind. The next morning, as Siegfried and his well-armed followers were about to set forth, Hagen contrived that other messengers should appear with the news that the two Kings had taken counsel and determined to abandon the war with Burgundy. “Then have we armed to no purpose!” said Siegfried to Günther, who nevertheless gave him thanks with fair but lying words for his willingness to aid them; and therewith, by Hagen’s counsel, he urged Siegfried to go with them to a hunt on the following morning in the Vosges forest, for there it was that Hagen had planned to accomplish his evil purpose. _Chapter XVI_ _Siegfried’s Death_ When the morning was come, therefore, Siegfried made him ready for the hunt and went to take leave of Kriemhild. She was full of anxious forebodings. Hagen’s grim visage rose before her eyes, and she began to mistrust him and his friendly words. Bitterly now she repented that her love and fear for her husband had led her to reveal his vulnerable spot. Nor did she dare make known to Siegfried what had passed, for he had strictly forbidden her ever to speak thereof. She had spent the night in terror and distress, and evil dreams had haunted her broken slumbers; wherefore she now besought Siegfried with tears to abandon the hunt, clinging to him as if she would never loose her hold. “I dreamed last night that two wild boars gave thee chase,” she cried, “and wounded thee so sorely that the grass was reddened with thy blood. Surely that forebodes two foes that seek thy life. Ah! go not hence, dear lord! I beseech thee, stay!” Tenderly Siegfried embraced her and sought to calm her fears, and knowing that he had never wrought evil to any man but had ever shown kindness and good-will to all, he said: “Dispel these idle fears, sweet wife! All thy kinsmen, methinks, bear me love and favor; nor is there any that hath cause to do me ill.”