The gray thunder-clouds rolled under the hot rays of the midday sun, when the horns of the besiegers called to a new fight, and again the howling battle-cry rose in both hosts. Stronger was the stormy assault, and greater the danger, for the besiegers had not used their axes in vain. From all sides they drove on behind strong log shields, and again they threw stones and bundles of wood into the trench, and dragged stems of trees and long beams to bridge it over; the Burgundians had also erected a scaffolding, on which hung a beam as a battering-ram; thundering did the beam swing against the bulwark, and long hooks tore the planked fence down into the trench. The fiercest fight raged round the wild instrument. When one troop of besiegers retreated, in a moment another sprang on; for behind the fighters was the Queen, urging them with words and raised arms incessantly to the storm. At last the hostile bands succeeded in making a rent here and there in the outer rampart. Then for a time the fight raged about the open path; the garrison of the fortress worked hard to stop the gap by their wooden shields and bodies. But as the flood pours through the broken dam, so did the overpowering number of the enemy storm in, and the small bands of defenders were pressed back toward the height. Ingo stood before the gate of the fortress, with a few blood-companions, who had fought by his side, and covered with shield and spear the retreat of their warriors. At last he sprang himself through the gate, and the bridge was raised behind him.

The besiegers gave a cry of victory, and pressed on against the rampart of the fortress, which surrounded the mountain. But short was their joy: from the steep height the spears now flew thicker, and great stones were hurled down, and made bloody paths among the storming bands. Small was now the chain of the defenders, and their anger mixed with anxiety, as they were fighting for the last bulwark which protected them from destruction; all hands bestirred themselves; the women also stood with petticoats tucked up high, raising the stones, and reaching them to the men. At last it became impossible for the enemy to cling to the steep path; they flew with great leaps back, and the huge pieces of rock hurled down broke the legs of many.

Then the Queen rode angrily before her men, and called out:

"If you still wish to drink the Queen's mead, ye capering heroes, struggle upward to the willows, and throw down the stone trough from which they refresh themselves. Then they may catch the running drops with their lips."

Theodulf flew round the hill, and ordered a general onset from all sides; again the horns sounded and cries yelled out, and again spears and stones flew from the top of the hill. But while the circle of besiegers shot their arrows from below whenever a head or an arm projected over the rampart, Hadubald crept, with four comrades, in the channel of the spring up to the willows, all bending under their shields, and with strong lifting-poles in their hands. They passed behind the trees, where the rock protected them; but the threatening danger did not escape the attention of the Hero Berthar, who collected together his nearest comrades, and hastened with them down through the gate. "We will catch them from below; you send your arrows from the rock, that no one may escape."

Then, as the old man sprang among the trees, the mighty stone trough groaned as thrown downward from its bed. Berthar cried angrily to Hadubald: "It brings a curse upon thee to change a wine carouse into a water-spring!" and broke his head with his club, before the other could raise his weapon. The other King's men also were slain by the strokes of the Vandals; only one sprang upward, but he sank to the ground on the path with a death-arrow in his back, and his fall was greeted by a loud cry of joy from the height. After that the battle-cries ceased, and both above and below rapid words buzzed among the bands.

"The stone trough is thrown down," said Berthar, returning, in a low voice to Ingo; "the water now runs wildly downward, and it will be difficult for the comrades around to provide water for their beasts."

"The Queen knew the fountain," answered Ingo, with a gloomy smile. "If those below could throw the stone, we may raise it again. Prepare the trees; choose the fighters and the protecting shields round the lifting arms of the countrymen."

While Ingo spoke, an arrow, whirling over him, struck into the tower scaffolding, and a small flame blazed where it caught. "There Frau Gisela tells our people of the devastated spring," cried out Berthar.

Round about the hill single bowmen sprang upward, and shot fiery arrows into the bulwark, carefully endeavoring by agile movements to avoid the stones which were cast down. Here and there the flames caught the beams and posts; the besieged struck against the arrows with poles, and put out the flames, but the fire blazed ever more and more; wildly sounded the cry of the warning one; the children howled; the horses bounded, when a fiery arrow flew under them, burst their halters, and rushed madly through the thronged multitude. Then the work became painful, and the hope and courage of many of the defenders sank.

A horseman with a small retinue, galloping at full speed, approached the Queen's bands. He and his attendants were received with loud acclamations from Theodulf's troop. Answald descended from his horse. "Deceptive news invited me to thy court, oh Queen, while thou art here dealing out revenge for my cause."

"Thou comest here uninvited and unwelcome," replied the Queen; "I do not intend to place thee between me and revenge; the uncalled-for mediator is hit with arrows from both sides. No mortal can avert the fate of those yonder, if they can not do it themselves."

"If the Queen will rule over the people of Thuringia, she must honor the customs of the country. I see there women and children of our blood; it is horrible that spears and fiery arrows should be hurled against the defenseless of our own people. Whoever is a free Thuringian, and desires victory in an honorable fight, let him help me to avert this shame, and pray with me to the Queen, that she may give up what will make us all an abomination in the memory of men."

"The Prince speaks well," cried out an old warrior, and the Thuringians cast their spears together, crying out: "Hail to Prince Answald!" Gloomily did the Queen look upon the troop, but she was silent.

"Hear me, Princess!" exclaimed the Chieftain, horrified at her hard countenance. "My own child, whom I once promised to Theodulf, is among the fire-arrows, and, like her, other women from the forest arbor. It is for me alone to punish my child, and no one, not even thou, shall take her away over my head."

He sprang into the path before the troop. "Here I stand, Answald, a Prince of Thuringia. Many a time have I led your armies to battle. Before you venture to slaughter the unwarlike, who lift their arms in the enclosure there, you shall first kill me, that I may not outlive the shame." Again there sounded a loud acclamation of the warriors.

"Here, you King's boys!" cried out Gisela, raising herself up. But Theodulf and Sintram pushed their horses up to the Queen, and spoke to her in a low tone:

"If thou wert not beside thyself, old man," began the Queen, at last, her voice trembling with anger, "I would punish thee, thou foolhardy man, for inciting these to disobedience. I care little to shed the blood of peasants even though they have unlawfully settled themselves outside the boundary. Let the horn be sounded, Theodulf, and call into the enclosure. The country people shall have free exit, not only the women and children, but also the men, if they will withdraw weaponless from the fortress, by the grace of the Queen, without injury to body or property."

Again there sounded from the troops a joyful cry of approbation. With long-drawn tones the horn admonished cessation from fighting. Theodulf stepped to within a spear's throw of the gate, and called out with powerful voice the grace of the Queen into the fortress.

Within there arose a stormy movement. The gate remained closed, but at the ramparts and at the palisades wild figures rushed about in despair, throwing down poles and beams and rolling down after the woodwork. A flying troop flowed here and there from the entrenchments, with women and children in terrified throngs, also horses and cattle. Some individual men likewise sprang down, whose hands were still blood-red with the oath of the sacrifice, terrified by the danger, and weary of a hopeless struggle. Yet most of the peasants stood on the height crowded together, their shields at their feet; they looked uncertainly after the women and the rushing herds. Only their oath and shame held them back. Then Ingo stepped up to them, and cried with a loud voice:

"Freely did you come, and freely may you also go, as your fellow countrymen call you. Discontented looks and unwilling service do I not desire. I honor little the warrior who thinks of wife or child during the fight. I willingly release you from your oath; provide, if you choose, for your own safety."

Then many laid their shields on the rampart, and sprang downward, without looking behind them. But Berthar called out to the remaining band:

"All the chaff does not fall from the wheat on the threshing-floor at one blow. I still see many whom the wind may blow away over the fence; try once again, ye proud comrades! We may gladly do without the companionship of the forest people." Again shields fell to the ground, and the bearers of them disappeared with sulky mien.

"Why does my King tarry to behold their wretchedness? They would leap better, if shame did not tie their legs. Yours is the choice; one way leads upward to the hall of the King; the other downward to your disgrace."

He followed his lord, who hastened up to the hall. Those that had remained behind stood for some minutes together; when they saw themselves alone, their warlike anger disappeared. Only a few hastened after the King; the others, weaponless, passed into the open country. Among the last who left the enclosure were Baldhard and Bruno.

From below the bands of the Queen sprang up, shouting. Those who were seeking to depart had made the entrance easy to them; storming up, they forced open the fastening of the gate, and thronged eagerly toward the open space before the hall. But they quickly drew back, for from the sling which Berthar had placed on the entrance to the steps, pointed wooden arrows flew into their ranks. They sought shelter by the ramparts, and again spears flew hither and thither, and from below the fire-arrows went against the roof.

White smoke whirled along the roof-rafters of the hall, and a voice sounded through it: "Water up there!" A man climbed up the ladder, and called from on high: "It crackles in the roof; the ox-hide swells; a Burgundian arrow has carried the fire to a projection of the roof; it sparkles and flashes; the buckets are empty."

"The Queen is cooling herself at our well," cried Berthar; "if water fails thee, pour our beer on the tongues of fire." A blast of wind passed howling over the roof, carrying a cloud of smoke with a fiery blaze on high. A cry of triumph from the enemy followed the blast of wind; tongues of flame broke out here and there through the covering hide. "Come down, Wolf!" cried out Berthar to the hero on high, who, with singed hair and black hands, with difficulty held fast to the ladder; "a spring is running fast from thy body --- it drops red from the ladder."

"It was not enough to extinguish the fire," answered Wolf; he came down, shook his bloody hand, and seized shield and spear. "Open the doors, blood-comrades," commanded Berthar, "that the draft of air may drive away the smoke from our Princess. Shall the King alone hold watch? Throw spears all round the building: as far as they can fly now reaches the kingdom of the Vandals."

Ingo stood on the steps of the hall, covered with a shield; over him drove thick clouds of smoke, driven by the storm on to the bands of the enemy, covering their armor and faces.

"The hall is opened," cried Ingo, to those staring in; "the host waits with a welcome; why do the faint-hearted guests delay?"

A figure sprang toward him out of the smoke --- a shieldless man, and a voice cried out: "Irmgard, my child! thy father calls: save thyself, unhappy one!"

Irmgard heard the cry in the hall; she rushed wildly up, and laid her son in Frida's arms. And again there was a cry from without, shriller and more full of anguish: "Irmgard! lost child!"