the
king's chaplain came nigh to lose his life. He found the priest beside
the sacred vessels, leaning with his hand upon the holy relics. This
helped him not. When Hagen saw him, it went hard with the poor servant
of God. He threw him out of the ship on the instant. Many cried, "Stop,
Hagen, stop!" Giselher, the youth, was very wroth, but Hagen ceased not,
till he had done him a hurt.

Then stark Gernot of Burgundy said, "What profiteth thee the chaplain's
death, Hagen? Had another done this, he had paid dear for it. What hast
thou against the priest?"

The chaplain swam with all his might. He had gotten on board again had
any helped him. But none could do it, for stark Hagen pushed him
fiercely under. None approved his deed.

When the poor man saw that they would not aid him, he turned and made for
the shore. He was in sore peril. But, albeit he could not swim, the
hand of God upbore him, that he won safe to the dry land again. There he
stood, and shook his clothes.

By this sign Hagen knew there was no escape from what the wild women of
the sea had foretold. He thought, "These knights be all dead men."

When they had unloaded the ship, and brought all across that belonged to
the three kings, Hagen brake it in pieces and threw these on the water.
Much the bold knights marvelled thereat.

"Wherefore dost thou so, brother?" said Dankwart. "How shall we get over
when we ride home from the Huns to the Rhine?"

Hagen told him, after, that that would never be, but for the meantime he
said, "I did it a-purpose. If we have any coward with us on this
journey, that would forsake us in our need, he shall die a shameful death
in these waves."

They had with them one from Burgundy, a hero of great prowess, that hight
Folker, and that spake with mocking words all his mind. And whatso Hagen
did, this fiddler approved.

When the king's chaplain saw the ship hewn up, he cried across the water
to Hagen, "What had I done to thee, false murderer, that, without cause,
thou wouldst have drowned me?"

Hagen answered, "Hold thy peace. By my troth, and in sober earnest, it
irketh me that thou hast escaped."

Said the poor priest, "I will praise God evermore. Little I fear thee
now, rest assured. Fare forward to the Huns, and I will to the Rhine.
God grant thou comest never back again. That is my prayer, for well-nigh
hadst thou killed me."

But King Gunther said to his chaplain, "I will more than make good