The Story of Hildiridur.
Ask yourselves, courteous readers,--all ye whose beloved parents are
numbered with the dead,--what would be your feelings if a mother were
thus restored to you, even in that hour when you had most need of
consolation, and if thus all the pleasant dreams of childhood were
brought again smiling around you? For you, however, who yet enjoy that
unspeakable blessing, to walk in the light of a mother’s protecting
and loving eyes, I would not awaken the frightful thought, that such
happiness should ever be taken from you. Without this, you may know
well how to sympathize with and to measure that balmy joy which was
thus so unexpectedly poured into the bleeding heart of Sir Otto!--In
the moon-like radiance of the Druda’s eyes, it seemed as if a whole
garden of azure flowers, emblems of hope and confidence, once more
sprung up around him. His mother’s well-known features now shone upon
him as kindly and mildly as ever; not mournful and disfigured, as when
he thought that she lay dying in the forest, nor pale and motionless as
he had beheld her during his nightly watch in the chapel.
It was long before either of them could again speak calmly. Otto knelt
before her, and could only say, “Oh! dearest--dearest mother!--how
could’st thou remain so long concealed from one who so dearly loved
thee! Heaven knows how many an hour I have spent in weeping thy loss
and praying for thee!” Then, in their great joy and affection, they
both continued silent, while Sir Heerdegen and the sea-monarch stood,
one on each side, with clasped hands,--even as one oftentimes sees in
ancient pictures and monuments the figures of devout champions, who
stand in respectful meditation beside the divinely-inspired saints of
the olden times.
At last Hildiridur dismissed the three knights, commanding that her
son should come to her alone on the next day, that he might hear from
his mother’s lips the eventful history of his parents. Rejoicing, and
yet weeping in his gladness, Sir Otto rode homewards through the clear
moonlight, while his faithful friends followed him, and in their hearts
partook of all his emotion.
When they had arrived at the camp, there Swerker came riding towards
them, threw himself from his horse, and would have held the stirrup
while Sir Otto dismounted; but the latter said,--“Not so; for thou art
not my squire, but my equal in rank, and shalt be my chosen comrade in
the battle-field.”--“Nay,” answered Swerker, “this cannot be, for I am
yet no Christian; and who knows whether in my whole life I shall ever
become one?”--“On that score there need be no doubt,” said Sir Otto;
“had we but a learned priest here among our troops, he would reveal
to you our faith in all its divine beauty; and certainly you could
not hesitate to believe in what he said.”--“Methinks,” answered the
Swede, “the best of all methods, if I may venture so to speak, were,
that you should yourself undertake the trouble of my conversion. It is
better that one knight should always speak with another, and so, by
expressing only the real feelings of our hearts, we shall at last agree
well together. Should you prove to be in the right, then I am willing
to become a Christian; if, on the other hand, my doctrines are better
maintained, then you will join with us in our devotions to the great
Odin, and the ancient gods of Valhalla.”
“Agreed!” said Sir Otto; “I shall take my chance as your instructor,
and to-morrow at sunrise we shall hold our first meeting for this
purpose. Even now, when Heaven, in his infinite wisdom, has in one and
the same day so wounded and rejoiced my heart, methinks I shall in
this attempt be successful.”
On the following day the two young heroes met and disputed vehemently
together, whereupon Sir Otto felt strengthened in listening to the
sound of his own voice, and by the self-consciousness of right which
dwelt in his own heart. He felt assured, that he would ere long gain
the victory; but, when evening approached, he failed not to remember
his appointment, and set out alone towards the castle of Hildiridur.
The Druda met him on his arrival at the gate, and led him kindly and
caressingly up stairs to the chamber with the round banquet-table,
which on this evening was more cheerfully and pleasantly illuminated
than ever. On the table, moreover, he saw many brilliant objects; there
was a magnificent plume of feathers fastened together by a brooch of
emerald; a large gold cross with a rich chain; a green velvet belt
beautifully embroidered, and other accoutrements fit for a valiant
knight of the highest rank.--“These shall all be thine, dearest son,”
said she, while the tears glittered in her eyes. “Through so many years
it has never been in my power to make thee a present, by way of kind
remembrance, on thy birth-day, nor at Christmas-tide; and for this
neglect I must now compensate as well as I can.”--With these words she
began to attire her beloved son in the gold chain and belt, the plume
of feathers, and other adornments, till at last he stood glittering
like a fairy king before her. Once more she looked at him with that
full expressive gaze, with which only a mother regards a dear child
of whom she is justly proud; then invited the youth to take his place
opposite to her at the table, and began to speak as follows:--
“Thy father, my beloved son, was brave and valiant indeed as thou art,
but in temper not so mild and submissive. He was indeed a threatening
and stern hero, of whom all, even those who most loved him, were
afraid; for his character might well be compared to that of a burning
summer’s day, now bright and beautiful, though we know not how soon it
may change into a frightful thunder-storm. Thus it happened, that he
overtook me in a bay of the North Sea, and, half by promises, half by
threats, compelled me to become his wife. Even to this hour I tremble
to think of the terror that I felt soon after. It was in Holland,
where a grand festival had been given in honour of Sir Hugur. When he
returned home from the banquet, he found in my chamber a long staff of
oak-wood, with Runic characters carved thereon; and, suddenly changing
his tone from that of loving confidence to bitter reproach and fierce
anger, he said,---‘I have already heard, that thou art a powerful
enchantress. Beware, however, how thou betrayest any tokens or symbols
of such an art in my presence, for, should this ever happen again, I
swear solemnly, that moment shall be the last of thy life!’
“Hastily, and without thought, I took up, in my terror, the Runic
enchanting-rod, and threw it into the fire; whereupon such a terrific
blaze arose, that the very walls of the chimney were rent asunder, and
the fire spread so rapidly, that Hugur had scarcely time to snatch me,
fainting with affright, in his arms, and bear me from the room. Would
to Heaven that all my implements of enchantment had at the time been
destroyed; and, above all, the fatal mirror which is now placed in
the adjoining room, and which I was wont to carry with me, carefully
packed, wherever I came! But the mystic spells that ruled therein
made it impossible for the fire to injure the mirror, and much as I
was afraid of Sir Hugur’s anger, I yet had not resolution to renounce
all the secrets that I had learned during my abode in the distant
snow-covered Iceland. Alas! my son, where an impulse and longing like
that which I had felt towards these dark sciences are born with us,
too often are we carried onward, notwithstanding all our struggles,
even though we know well that it is to our own destruction. Yet I
determined that the mirror, though it remained in my possession, should
never be looked at or unveiled; for I could not but expect that Hugur,
always incensed by the sight of such objects, would be more than ever
enraged, if by any means he were reminded of what had happened with the
Runic divining-rod. He paid a large sum of money to the proprietor of
the house, according to his usual princely generosity, and thereafter
we removed to the pleasant town of Coblentz, where the Mosel flows into
the Rhine,--where the blooming fields and vine-covered mountains may
vie in beauty with any which this world affords, those even of Asia not
excepted.
“There, in a baronial fortress, not far from the town, which mansion
was situated on a hill covered with fruit-trees, and commanding the
loveliest prospects along both rivers, wert thou, my beloved son,
brought into the world. In the sweet unconsciousness of infancy, thou
wert wont to smile in thy cradle, from the high balcony of the castle,
on the beautiful world full of light, blossoms and fragrance which then
lay around thee; but young, and seemingly unconscious as thou wert, I
doubt not that sweet influences, derived from these early dreams, yet
steal upon the both in thine hours of waking and of sleep.”
“Truly, dearest mother,” replied Sir Otto, “thy words have recalled
to me forms and feelings that lay deep--deeply implanted, though but
dimly understood, within my heart. But after I had learned better
to perceive what passed around me, did we not travel farther?--Did
not our way lead over lofty cliffs covered with vines, full of rich
clusters?--and did we not once stand looking down fearfully at a great
foaming cataract?--Methinks I yet hear its mighty voice!--or was this,
perchance, a thunder-storm among the mountains, with its blue and white
clouds, which my wild fantasy had confused with the notion of falling
water?”
“Nay, dear son,” answered Hildiridur, “that was indeed the magnificent
Rhein-fall at Schaffhausen. I remember well, how joyfully thou didst
clasp thy hands, and tried, after thine own manner, to shout aloud; and
though thy voice was unheard amid the roaring of the falling torrents,
the pleasure with which thou wert animated sparkled in thine eyes;
yet all this while the boards on which we stood shook beneath us; and
at length the stern Sir Hugur was so delighted with thy courage, that
he kissed both his wife and child, and exclaimed,--‘That is my brave
son,--a true scion of the old northern tree!--Thanks to thee, far-famed
and majestic Rhine, for the trial which thou hast now afforded me of
his spirit!’--Truly thou art but little changed since that time, if I
might say so of one who has been transformed from a blooming boy into a
warlike knight; but at the first glance I could not but recognise thy
features.”
“And yet thou could’st remain so long concealed from me,” said Sir Otto
mournfully, “and I have been so long denied that confidence in which I
now so much rejoice!”
“My son,” answered Hildiridur, “to one who is ever led, as I have
been, to look over deeply into the mysteries of nature and the world
of spirits, the knowledge so acquired often proves a heavy and almost
insupportable burden. Already have I spoken to this effect with thy
cousin Bertha, when she came to my castle in East Friesland. Thus,
while free-hearted champions, such as thou art, are pursuing their own
path to glory and conquest, and are guided by their own impulses, there
are deep mysterious signs and admonitions by which we, who are endowed
with supernatural gifts, are made aware, that we must submit to the
conditions of that destiny which Providence has decreed for us. The
fitting hour was not yet come.”
“But is it possible,” inquired Sir Otto, “that you have heretofore
looked upon Ottur, my strange double-goer, whose name I have now
bestowed on my sword, as your son?”
“Truly there have been moments when I have thus acknowledged him,” said
Hildiridur; “but at length I perceived only too well who he really is.
Thou also wilt soon become acquainted with this mystery; for my story
draws near to the fatal hour, when it was to me clearly revealed, how
frightfully his fate was intwined with thine and with my own.”
“For three years we had now wandered about through the blooming
mountains and valleys of Germany, when in your father’s heart there
arose at length the ardent longing after his native land. In the German
districts he no longer bore his Norwegian name of the stern Sir Hugur,
but was called Sir Hugh von Trautwangen, and I also was accustomed to
address him by this title, forming at the same time in my own mind
delightful pictures of Trautwangen in Swabia, where I had never yet
been. It was enough for me that its name was ever joined with that
of my husband, who was dearer to me than all the world. I longed,
therefore, in joyful anticipation, to reach the Swabian fortress, and
yet have to this hour never beheld it, except long afterwards in the
frightful mirror. And that fatal treasure was the cause of my never
having been there in reality.
“For, as we drew nearer and nearer to the castle, I was every night
haunted by strange and irresistible visions, by which I was constantly
warned and impelled to look into the magic mirror, and behold there the
adventures past and to come of my husband, Sir Hugur. On awakening, all
was confusion in my mind, and I could not clearly recall the phantoms
of my sleep, but felt always a vehement desire to act according to
those warnings. Yet my love towards Sir Hugur, mingled also with
my terror of offending him, always made me able to resist that
inclination, until one night, which we past encamped under the shelter
of a great forest, my dreams became more vivid and more frightful than
ever, so that I could also recall them when awake.
“In my nightly vision, it seemed to me as if the form of the beautiful
Astrid, my sister, of whose death I had never heard, was always before
me, and that she was zealously employed in culling flowers under the
trees. Methought also, that it was still night, and that a gleam of
moonlight shone upon her features, and I said to myself, ‘How strangely
pale she looks in that light! Does she not appear, even now, more like
one of the dead than of the living?’ Thereupon a deep melancholy,
and even horror, settled on my heart. The beautiful Astrid continued
her search for flowers; but, when she had made a rich and variegated
wreath, and was adding to it the last flower, in order to tie it
together, lo! the whole garland changed at once into dust and ashes,
which flew into her eyes, and disfigured her countenance. Then she
indeed looked like one of the dead, and, moreover, began to wring her
hands and weep bitterly. Thereafter she renewed her task, and soon made
another wreath, which was dissolved like the former. I wished to rise
up and assist her, but the leaden bonds of sleep held me fast; I could
not move; and when Astrid saw my vain endeavours, she said, ‘Nay, nay,
think not of aiding me. These are but earthly flowers which no one can
fix in my hands, and wherefore should I wish for them, since I have
been long since dead?’ After these words, she came and placed herself
beside me, adding, ‘Wherefore hast thou the mirror in thy possession?
I shall never grant thee peace, neither by night nor day, till thou
hast looked into it, and inquired after the past life of the stern
Sir Hugur. If thou wilt not obey my commands, then truly may’st thou
pursue thy way to the castle of Trautwangen; but, remember, till the
warning be fulfilled, thou shalt never enjoy rest; till then I shall
ever be with thee!’ All this was uttered in a voice that sounded at
once so eager, and so feebly shrill, that I was struck with horror, and
awoke, screaming, from my sleep. This time, as I have already said, the
impression of my dream remained clear on my mind. Meanwhile I heard the
owls shrieking without in the wild forest; my female attendants were
fast asleep, and the sentinels snored at the entrance of the tent. At
these fearful moments I wished to lose my sense of the terror by which
I was surrounded in the protecting arms of sleep; but, scarcely had I
closed my eyes and begun to slumber, when the deadly pale visage of
Astrid was again close to mine; her voice again shrilled in mine ears,
and these fearful changes from sleep to waking, and from waking to
sleep, were repeated, till, unable to bear such torment any longer, I
started from my couch, and ran straightway towards the coffer in which
I knew that the mirror was deposited. All yet slept around me; the
fires were extinguished, the moon sunk, the night was dark and silent
as the grave.
“At the well-known touch of my hands all the locks and bolts were at
once opened; the mirror was revealed, and shone brightly, with its own
supernatural light. I leaned it against the stem of an oak-tree, and,
according to the warning voice of my dream, demanded what had been the
crimes of Sir Hugur?
“What I then beheld I need not repeat to thee; thou know’st it already
from the lips of the wise armourer, Asmandur, who has described to thee
the fate of the beautiful Astrid, and even repeated the songs in which
she took her last farewell of the stern champion of the North.”
Hereupon, Sir Otto and Hildiridur both wept bitterly, and for a long
while they remained silent, and gazing on each other. At length the
lady began to speak as follows:--
“In the mirror I beheld also a beautiful boy, who is now changed into
the wild reckless Ottur, for he was the son of Sir Hugur and the
beautiful Astrid. That thy half-brother should resemble thee so nearly
is not to be thought mysterious; for scarcely could his mother and
thine be distinguished from each other. I was still weeping before the
mirror, because I beheld therein how the boy turned away in mingled
wrath and terror from his father, who, in the presence of the old
knight, had dipped a spear in my sister’s blood, when, lo! the stern
Sir Hugur himself stood suddenly behind me. The red light of the
morning, which had just then begun to break, shone on his visage,
distorted by wrath, and in a thundering voice he exclaimed, ‘Thou hast
then given thyself up again to thy witchcraft and incantations; but
although thou hast forgotten thine obedience, I shall not forget the
vows that I have sworn. Prepare then for death!’ With these words,
he drew his sword, that gleamed like a flame in the morning light;
and that sword, dearest son, was the same which thou wearest at this
moment, and to which, as thou said’st, thou hast given the name of
Ottur.”
Hereupon Sir Otto looked with aversion and terror on the weapon which
he had before held so dear; it seemed as if he would tear it from
his side, and cast it away; but then said Hildiridur, “Fear not,
dear son; by that good sword I have never been injured; although by
my disobedience I had deserved that my life should thereby have been
taken away. For as I kneeled on the ground, and even bared my bosom
as a self-condemned criminal to receive the blow, suddenly the heart
of the stern Hugur was melted; and he said, ‘Nay, Heaven forbid that
thou should’st ever be wounded by my hand. But I must separate myself
from thee, for now thou hast discovered the fearful crimes which I
committed against thy sister, Astrid; nor have I humility or fortitude
enough (whichsoever it should be called) to beg thy forgiveness. Nor,
to say the truth, could I confide longer in one who is thus given up to
sorcery; therefore hasten thou from my sight, and never let us meet
again. But as for the boy, I must detain him with me, and will tell him
that thou art dead.’ To these commands I was forced to submit; but I
desisted not from entreaties, till I had been permitted to take leave
of thee, dearest Otto. The by-standers told thee that I was then dying;
and, truly, I must have seemed at last more like one of the dead than
of the living; for, quite overcome by my affliction at parting with
thee, and my regret at the disobedience of which I had so rashly been
guilty, I sank back, fainting and insensible, on the grassy turf.”
Once more the lady heartily embraced her beloved son; and they felt
that their long sufferings were more than compensated by the happiness
which they now enjoyed.