THE FLIGHT OF BRUNNHILDE
Now on that day on which Brunnhilde disobeyed the behest of Wotan, and
instead of slaying Siegmund, and bringing his soul to Walhalla where he
would abide with the other heroes, shielded him, yet to little purpose,
the glorious company of the Valkyries, who were eight in number, and
all her sisters, being likewise the daughters of Wotan and born of
Erda, were out to battle and fight with the heroes of the sons of men,
whom they bore to Walhalla, there to defend its lofty walls and sit at
wine with their fellows. All that day had they ridden on their quests,
and when it was towards evening they began to gather, as they had
appointed, on the top of a certain rocky height, there to number their
spoils, and go all together, a wild and joyous company, to the halls of
Walhalla, there to gladden the heart of their father Wotan with what
they had done.
High and open to the winds of heaven was their trysting-place, a
region of bleak mountain land, a very crown of the world. Steeply rose
its barren cliffs on all sides but one, and here a pine wood clung
to the hillside, in the shade and shelter of which they might tether
their horses, as they waited for the gathering of their sisters. Great
storms had raged all day, and as evening came on their violence was in
no whit abated, but seemed to grow ever fiercer. But little did the
Valkyries heed such menaces, for their joy was in storm, and they drank
deep from whirlwinds as a thirsty man will drink of a bowl of wine, and
feel his strength come back to him; and the swifter the blasts screamed
over the terror-stricken earth, the swifter did the Valkyries ride on
their errands, and the louder and more joyous sounded their fierce,
glad battle-cries of death. High and untamed of heart were they, and
maidens all of them, for of men they had no thought, save only that
men were the game and quarry of their hunting, and they loved a strong
man's strength only because thus the fighting was the fiercer, and
the nobler and braver was the foeman whose soul they should carry to
Walhalla, there to have life eternal breathed into it by Wotan. But of
the fierceness of love they knew nought, nor cared to know: danger and
death had brighter eyes for them than a lover.
All day had their trysting-place stood empty and buffeted by the
winds and rains, for far distant were the quests on which the sisters
had gone, and wild and shrill was the music of the storm. Now with a
scream the wind would awake and yell among the rocks, and the beating
of the rain was like the sound of the drums that call to war. Then the
shrillness of the storm would abate, and for a while it would moan
with low and flute-like notes among the stems of the pine-trees, and
whisper among their nodding tops, as if with a false promise of peace.
Then in fresh anger, as of hounds a-yelp, it would break out again,
and with shrill trumpetings scream among the sharp edges of the rocks,
or vibrate like to a twanged string round the stumps of trees and
weep like some lost soul among the thick-stemmed bushes. But towards
evening, though the rain abated not, nor the mad riot of the winds, a
man might hear very far away the rhythmical tramping of some deathless
steed, as one of the wild Valkyries approached, or far away a light
would break out among the clouds showing where another rode lightly on
the very winds and airs of heaven. Thus flying and galloping from every
quarter of the world, that glorious company began to assemble, and the
storm screamed welcome to them with many voices.
Legion were the questions each had to ask of the other, as to how
she had sped that day, and what hero she brought back slung across
her saddle-bows, and joyful were the greetings with which each hailed
the other. Some, too, had brought with them the horses of the slain,
and loud were the neighings and whinnyings in the wood as horse smelt
filly, and cocked his ear and swished his tail for very joy of the
life that was in him. But the noblest of all were the steeds of the
Valkyries, and these they tied up to the trees while they waited for
their full company to gather; and they cared for them tenderly, for
it was by the deathless strength of their noble steeds that they
rode so swiftly on their wide errands of death. Again and yet again
flared the wild light of their approach, and on the saddle of each was
swung a hero, for all had prospered that day, and joyfully they spoke
together of the gathering there would be in Walhalla that night when
they returned triumphant, and how Wotan would be well pleased at their
prowess; while high rose the mirth at the table where sat the heroes,
as their new brethren made whole again, and filled with eternal life by
the power of Wotan, sat them down in wonder and amaze at the glory and
joy that awaited them, when their eyes were opened after the sleep of
death, to behold the dawning of the everlasting day.
And by now all the maidens were gathered but one only, for Brunnhilde,
the eldest and the most noble of them all, had not yet returned from
her quest, and the sisters wondered that she should delay so long. But
one, thinking that they were all gathered, asked another why yet they
delayed, for the sun was near its setting, and it was time they set
forth to go to Walhalla with their spoils.
But she to whom her sister spake, replied--
"Not yet are we all gathered, for Brunnhilde comes not yet. Her deed
to-day, as I know, my sisters, was with the Wolsung Siegmund, and she
tarries long, for he fights for a woman, and men in such case are
ever fiercest Yet may we not go to Walhalla till she is come, for
what welcome, think you, we should get from Wotan, came we before him
lacking his heart's darling? Dear are we all to him, but she is the
dearest, and to us the dearest of all is she."
Meantime another of the eight, Siegrune, had climbed to the topmost
ridge of rock, and looked out as best she might through the blinding
storm, to see if Brunnhilde approached. Then suddenly the others below
heard her shout of joyful war-cry, with which the sisters were wont to
hail each other.
"She comes, she comes!" she cried, "and the speed of her coming is like
the passage of the lightning, and as thunder the rides on the wings of
the wind."
Then they all called aloud on her, and another sister, Waltraute,
swiftly ran up to where Siegrune sat.
"See, she rides to the wood, and her good Grane labours sore. How spent
he seems with her headlong speed."
And yet a third climbed up beside the two others.
"The wildest, fiercest ride that ever Brunnhilde sped," she cried.
"But see! what lies on her saddle? No hero is it."
Then as the maid came nearer, riding on the wings of the storm, they
saw that it was no hero indeed she carried, but a woman; and swiftly
they hurried down to the wood to meet her, for that a Valkyrie should
bring back a woman as spoil was in truth a new thing. And as they ran
down they questioned one with another what this could be. They saw,
too, that her good horse Grane was utterly spent with the gallop, and
this, too, was a new thing, for Grane had the stoutest heart and the
most untiring limbs of any horse in earth or heaven.
Then came Brunnhilde towards them through the trees, giving her
support and strength to the woman Sieglinde, whom she led. Round her
neck was Sieglinde's arm laid, yet scarcely even so could she put foot
before foot, for like Grane the strength of her body was spent utterly,
and her soul was sore with all that had come upon her. Then with hands
outstretched in entreaty came Brunnhilde to them; and that, too, was a
strange thing and a new, for of them all she was the blithest.
[Illustration: Brunnhilde brings Sieglinde to the Valkyries' Meeting
place.]
"Save me, sisters," cried she, "for harm follows hard after me, and I
who never yet fled from any man fly now, and behind me in thunder and
relentless pursuit follows the War-father."
And down she sank on a seat of rock, still supporting her whom she led.
But wonder and amazement seized on the sisters, and it seemed that she
must be distraught and her wits, astray that she spoke so, for how
should Wotan, whose darling she was, and whose very will she mirrored,
be up in wrath against her?
Then Brunnhilde cried out again--
"Run to the topmost ridge, my sisters, and tell me if ye see aught.
Look to the northward and say if the father comes, and if he is yet in
sight, for I have fled before him. All day I have fled before him, and
my heart is gone from me, for he rides furiously."
Then did the sisters do her bidding, and lo! to the northward there
rose in the sky a great cloud, separate from the storm down which
Brunnhilde had steered, and it rose high and black and moved very
swiftly, and out of the midst of it came thunderings and lightnings,
nor could they doubt but that this was Wotan riding on the clouds, his
chariot. Then returned they and told Brunnhilde what they had seen, and
she was very sore afraid, for she too knew that fast in pursuit came
Wotan from the north, and that he came in wrath and terrible anger. And
again she cried--
"Save me, my sisters, and shield the woman. Ye know not who she is,
but I will tell you all and quickly, for there is no time to lose.
Sieglinde is it I bring, the sister of Siegmund the Wolsung and his
bride. Wotan this day, for Fricka's sake, doomed to death the Wolsung,
and bid me forsake him whom ever I had loved. And obey I could not, for
my heart allowed me not, and instead of forsaking him, and fighting
against him, I sheltered him with my invincible shield. But on the
other side fought Wotan, and against his spear was Siegmund's sword
shattered. Then fear seized me, and I fell back, so that my shield no
longer sheltered him, and by Hunding's sword did Siegmund fall. And
with this woman fled I before the wrath that is coming, and hither I
came, for with your help maybe the fulness of his displeasure shall be
turned from my head."
Then were all the sisters filled with sorrow and amazement that she had
disobeyed the word of Wotan, and scarce could they believe that she had
dared to do this thing, for that Wotan's word should not be obeyed was
a thing unthinkable, and they were sorely grieved. And ever from the
north, like night, came the storm-chariot of Wotan nearer, and they
knew the growing roar of the thunder to be the whinnying of the wild
horses that he drove.
But Brunnhilde looked on Sieglinde, and as she looked all fear for
herself was merged in pity for her, and again she spake to her sisters.
"Sisters, sisters, woe and destruction waits this woman if she abides
the coming of Wotan, for with fire and wrath and the utmost terror of
his face he wars against the Wolsungs. So, for my horse Grane is spent,
lend me, I pray you, one of yours, that with her I may flee again and
make her safe."
Then, though they all loved Brunnhilde, and she entreated each in
turn, yet none would do this, for Wotan was their father, and not even
at Brunnhilde's prayer could they turn from him. Thus she knew not
which way to turn for help, and she bent over Sieglinde, and for pity
of her and for sorrow she kissed her and embraced her lovingly. And at
that caress Sieglinde, who till now had taken no part or lot in this
wild war of words, but had sat as one who saw not nor felt, looked up
into Brunnhilde's eyes, and saw all the sorrowful loving-kindness which
sat there, and made such softness in her eyes.
"It is enough," she said, "for death, now Siegmund is dead, terrifies
me not at all, and I would not that harm came to thee for my sake.
Would that some blow in that strife had fallen on me, so that I might
have died with him. Indeed I will not be parted from him. So, O thou
holy and dear maiden, who hast been so tender to me, let me not live
and curse thy tenderness, but hearken to my prayer, and strike me to
the heart with thy sword. Strike strongly of thy strength."
And Brunnhilde spoke low to her and earnestly. "Ah, not so, not so,"
she said. "Cast not his love away, the pledge of which he has given
thee. For hidden deep in thee lies another life; from thy womb shall
spring a Wolsung."
Then did the mother awake in the woman, and all her face was flushed as
with sunrise by a holy joy. Though she had no fears for herself, yet
it could not be that the begotten of Siegmund should perish, and she
thought of her unborn babe.
"Ah, save me and shelter me," she cried, "and shelter my helpless babe.
O, ye maidens, I call you to save me and hide me from the wrath of
Wotan."
Then suddenly came the voice of Waltraute from the topmost rock. "The
storm is at hand," she cried. "Get thee hence, ere it fall on thee."
At that the others cried to Brunnhilde to get hence with the woman,
for they dare not ward her from Wotan, and Sieglinde fell on her knees,
and as mother of a child that should yet be born, besought Brunnhilde
to save her for the sake of her motherhood that should be.
Then did Brunnhilde commune swiftly with herself, for lacking a horse
she could not hope to flee with the woman before the face of Wotan. Yet
when she spake her voice trembled, for she was afraid. But by no other
way could she save Sieglinde and that holy seed.
"Get thee away alone," said she, "and flee softly and swiftly from the
wrath. But I abide here so that in wrath against me he may delay his
further pursuit. Here and on me will that full flood break, and here
will it pour itself forth, and in the meantime shalt thou make thyself
safe against his pursuit."
And for the sake of her child, Sieglinde pressed her hands in thanks.
"And whither shall I flee from the wrath?" she asked.
Then Brunnhilde turned again to her sisters. "O help me here," she
said, "for in this in no way do ye cross the will of Wotan. Say, which
of you have journeyed eastward this day?"
And Siegrune answered: "I, and eastward lies there a great wood where
the giant Fafner guards the ring which was made from the Rhine-gold.
That none should know it is he, he has taken the likeness of a mighty
dragon, and in his lair he guards the ring. Yet it is no place for a
helpless woman."
"Nor meet for a helpless woman is it to abide the wrath of Wotan,"
answered Brunnhilde. "And that wood, well know I, Wotan loves not, nor
ever does he venture in its shade, for he thinks that there lurkes evil
for him, and dark is the womb of fate."
Even as she spoke again, Waltraute shouted from the rock. "Wotan is
very near," she cried; "hear ye not the roar of his coming?"
Then Brunnhilde trembled, but delayed not, and taking hold of Sieglinde
she showed her the way she must follow.
"So begone!" she cried, "and set thy face ever eastwards. Great indeed
is the burden that thou bearest within thee, so let thy heart be great
also. Hunger and thirst will be thine, and the stony rock shall be thy
bed, and with thorns shalt thou cover thyself, and of briars shalt thou
make thy pillow. So be lifted up in thy courage and take these things
blithely, and laugh only when thy need is the sorest. And, O woman!
forget not ever, nor think lightly of what I tell thee, for within thee
in the darkness of thy womb lies he who shall be the highest hero of
earth."
Then took she from her mantle the fragments of the sword of Siegmund
which she had gathered up when it was shattered against the spear
of Wotan, and darkness fell on the rocky ridge where he fought with
Hunding.
"Treasure these safe," said she, "for these are the shattered pieces of
thy man's sword. Them gathered I for thy child, and he once more shall
wield it in days to be. And I name him now. Siegfried shall he be, and
by him shall be won the peace of victory, and the sword shall make him
glad. So begone!"
But Sieglinde clung to her a moment yet.
"O, sweetest and most mighty of maidens," she said, "thy truth to me
has made me believe that what thou now sayest is to be. That which thou
hast given me, which was his whom we both loved, I will guard very
jealously, and by him who will spring from Siegmund's loins perchance
shall one day thy sorrow and mine be turned into joy and laughter. So
farewell. The woman of many woes and sorrows blesses thee every day and
for ever."
Then she went swiftly away eastwards through the pines.