Response Paper to Waldere by Austin Evans

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… He spurned both treasure and precious vessels,

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many treasures; now that the lord must leave

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this fight without either, he must return

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to his own fair country, or else sleep here,

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if he then chooses to face you. Brave Walther,

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you are so opposed to that brutish man I cannot

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help but feel he exists solely to degrade you.

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Your highs are his lows, your courage his cowardice,

 

your charm his repulsion. Indeed, the only field

 

in which you two are well-met is on the battlefield,

 

but I do not think for a second that you shall 

 

fall to him there. I have faith that you will meet

 

him there and leave the victor, for with God 

 

by your side you cannot possibly fail!’

 

Her speech ended abruptly as the sound of

 

chattering hooves stormed the worn forest path

 

they had been standing on. Walther pulled himself

 

in front of Hildegund, his broad frame shielding

 

her from the dust kicked up by the dark steed 

 

before them. Atop it sat the dark lord Guthhere,

 

staring down at them like a hawk peering into

 

a field mouse’s den. But he found no mice 

 

looking back at him; indeed if there were any 

 

vermin at that scene, it would be he who

 

sat atop that horse. He glared down at them,

 

daring Walther to look away and break his resolve.

 

Walther, the brave hero that he was, refused.

 

Nevertheless Guthhere carried on, talking down

 

to his adversary as though he were staring down 

 

an invader storming his castle gates:

 

‘Well met, young Walther! I must confess

 

I am surprised to see you both out so far

 

away from your graves! The rumours, oh how

 

quickly they spread, tales of how the treacherous 

 

maiden and her rough-headed lover

 

were cut down by assassins. But what a relief,

 

I must say, to see you two here. Let it be known

 

that I am a champion of truth, and despise seeing

 

falsehoods spread across the kingdom like fire

 

through a kindling. Now that I have you two here 

 

before me, I will be able to tell the people

 

the truth about your untimely demise.’

 

Walther’s rage flared up at the mention of

 

Hildegund’s death, but remained outwardly cool.

 

He stared his foe dead in the eye and addressed him 

 

with all the respect the king deserved:

 

‘Guthhere, you pile of worm-food!

 

Your words speak quite highly yet cannot

 

force your actions to match. You’ve come here

 

expecting to find me wounded from my encounter

 

with the assassins, but as you can see I am

 

no more injured than the day I was born.’

 

The king scowled at him, showing his

 

irritation with the young lord’s brashness.

 

‘I expect no such weakness from you,

 

my dear Walther. I have heard legends of 

 

God’s mighty soldier, clad in his sacred war-gear

 

and wielding the sword known as Mimming. 

 

One could say the weapon may exceed the man,

 

for tales of the mighty Mimming are more prevalent 

 

then those of the man who wields it. It is 

 

a blade better

 

than all but one which, however, I have here 

 

in its jewelled sheath, sleeping quietly…’

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