torm-gust without.

When day dawned at last, a sad scene met the eyes of all beholders. The
earth was covered with the broken branches of leafy trees; the flowers
and shrubs were beaten pitilessly to the ground; and here and there lay
the dead bodies of little feathered songsters, who, the day before, had
made the woods glad with their music.

The sun had scarcely risen above this sorrowful scene, gilding the gray
towers and turrets and the drooping trees with the promise of
better things, than a strange confusion was noticed outside of the
castle-gates. Thirty and two horsemen wearing the livery of the
North-lands stood there, and asked to be led to the Burgundian kings.

"Who are you? and what is your errand?" asked the gate-keeper.

"We come as heralds and messengers from Leudiger and Leudigast, the
mighty kings of the North," they answered. "But our errand we can tell
to no man save to Gunther your king, or to his brothers Gernot and
Giselher."

Then they were led by the king's command into the council-hall, where
sat Gunther, Gernot, and the noble Giselher; and behind them stood their
uncle and chief, brave old Hagen.

"What message bring you from our old friends Leudiger and Leudigast?"
asked Gunther of the strangers.

"Call them not your friends," answered the chief of the company. "We
bring you this message from our liege lords, whom you may well count as
enemies. Many years ago they were sorely beaten in battle, and suffered
much hurt at your hands. And they vowed then to avenge the injury, and
to wipe out the disgrace you had caused them, just so soon as they were
strong enough to do so. Now they are ready, with fifty thousand men, to
march into your country. And they swear to lay waste your lands, and to
burn your towns and villages and all your castles, unless you at once
acknowledge yourselves their vassals, and agree to pay them tribute.
This is the kings' message. And we were further ordered not to wait for
an answer, but to carry back to them without delay your reply, whether
you will agree to their terms or no."

King Gunther, as was his wont, turned to Hagen for advice.

"Send for Siegfried," whispered the chief.

It was done. And soon the hero came into the hall. His kingly grace and
warlike bearing were such that Gunther dared not raise his guilty eyes
from the ground; and Hagen's furtive glances were, for the moment,
freighted with fear and shame. The message of the heralds was repeated