been spoken, seemed endowed with life: she understood that it had been
love that kept her here during the days of trial, during which the
creature formed of dust and spirit, soul and earth, combats and
struggles; she acknowledged that she had only followed the leading of
temper, and had done nothing for herself; everything had been given
her, everything had happened as it were by the interposition of
Providence. She bowed herself humbly, confessing her own deep
imperfection in the presence of the Power that can read every thought
of the heart--and then the priest spoke.
"Thou daughter of the moorland," he said, "out of the earth, out of
the moor, thou camest; but from the earth thou shalt arise. I come
from the land of the dead. Thou, too, shalt pass through the deep
valleys into the beaming mountain region, where dwell mercy and
completeness. I cannot lead thee to Hedeby, that thou mayest receive
Christian baptism; for, first, thou must burst the veil of waters over
the deep moorland, and draw forth the living source of thy being and
of thy birth; thou must exercise thy faculties in deeds before the
consecration can be given thee."
And he lifted her upon the horse, and gave her a golden censer similar
to the one she had seen in the Viking's castle. The open wound in the
forehead of the slain Christian shone like a diadem. He took the cross
from the grave and held it aloft. And now they rode through the air,
over the rustling wood, over the hills where the old heroes lay
buried, each on his dead war-horse; and the iron figures rose up and
gallopped forth, and stationed themselves on the summits of the hills.
The golden hoop on the forehead of each gleamed in the moonlight, and
their mantles floated in the night breeze. The dragon that guards
buried treasures likewise lifted up his head and gazed after the
riders. The gnomes and wood-spirits peeped forth from beneath the
hills and from between the furrows of the fields, and flitted to and
fro with red, blue, and green torches, like the sparks in the ashes of
a burnt paper.
Over woodland and heath, over river and marsh they fled away, up to
the wild moor; and over this they hovered in wide circles. The
Christian priest held the cross aloft; it gleamed like gold; and from
his lips dropped pious prayers. Beautiful Helga joined in the hymns he
sang, like a child joining in its mother's song. She swung the censer,
and a wondrous fragrance of incense streamed forth thence, so that the
reeds and grass of the moor burst forth into blossom. Every germ came
forth from the deep ground. All that had life lifted itself up. A veil
of water-lilies spread itself forth like a carpet of wrought flowers,
and upon this carpet lay a sleeping woman, young and beautiful. Helga
thought it was her own likeness she saw upon the mirror of the calm
waters. But it was her mother whom she beheld, the moor king's wife,
the princess from the banks of the Nile.
The dead priest commanded that the slumbering woman should be lifted
upon the horse; but the horse sank under the burden, as though its
body had been a cloth fluttering in the wind. But the holy sign gave
strength to the airy phantom, and then the three rode from the moor to
the firm land.
[Illustration: HELGA MEETS WITH HER MOTHER IN THE MARSH.]
Then the cock crowed in the Viking's castle, and the phantom shapes
dissolved and floated away in air; but mother and daughter stood
opposite each other.
"Am I really looking at my own image from beneath the deep waters?"
asked the mother.
"Is it myself that I see reflected on the clear mirror?" exclaimed the
daughter.
And they approached one another, and embraced. The heart of the mother
beat quickest, and she understood the quickening pulses.
"My child! thou flower of my own heart! my lotos-flower of the deep
waters!"
And she embraced her child anew, and wept; and the tears were as a new
baptism of life and love to Helga.
"In the swan's plumage came I hither," said the mother; "and here also I
threw off my dress of feathers. I sank through the shaking moorland, far
down into the black slime, which closed like a wall around me. But soon I
felt a fresher stream; a power drew me down, deeper and ever deeper. I felt
the weight of sleep upon my eyelids; I slumbered, and dreams hovered round
me. It seemed to me that I was again in the pyramid in Egypt, and yet the
waving willow trunk that had frightened me up in the moor was ever before
me. I looked at the clefts and wrinkles in the stem, and they shone forth
in colours, and took the form of hieroglyphics: it was the case of the
mummy at which I was gazing; at last the case burst, and forth stepped the
thousand-year-old king, the mummied form, black as pitch, shining black as
the wood-snail or the fat mud of the swamp; whether it was the marsh king
or the mummy of the pyramids I knew not. He seized me in his arms, and I
felt as if I must die. When I returned to consciousness a little bird was
sitting on my bosom, beating with its wings, and twittering and singing.
The bird flew away from me up towards the heavy, dark covering; but a long
green band still fastened him to me. I heard and understood his longing
tones: 'Freedom! Sunlight! to my father!' Then I thought of my father and
the sunny land of my birth, my life, and my love; and I loosened the band
and let the bird soar away home to the father. Since that hour I have
dreamed no more. I have slept a sleep, a long and heavy sleep, till within
this hour; harmony and incense awoke me and set me free."
The green band from the heart of the mother to the bird's wings, where
did it flutter now? whither had it been wafted? Only the stork had
seen it. The band was the green stalk, the bow at the end, the
beauteous flower, the cradle of the child that had now bloomed into
beauty, and was once more resting on its mother's heart.
And while the two were locked in each other's embrace, the old stork
flew around them in smaller and smaller circles, and at length shot
away in swift flight towards his nest, whence he brought out the
swan-feather suits he had preserved there for years, throwing one to
each of them, and the feathers closed around them, so that they soared
up from the earth in the semblance of two white swans.
"And now we will speak with one another," quoth stork-papa, "now we
understand each other, though the beak of one bird is differently
shaped from that of another. It happens more than fortunately that you
came to-night. To-morrow we should have been gone--mother, myself, and
the young ones; for we're flying southward. Yes, only look at me! I am
an old friend from the land of the Nile, and mother has a heart larger
than her beak. She always declared the princess would find a way to
help herself; and I and the young ones carried the swan's feathers up
here. But how glad I am! and how fortunate that I'm here still! At
dawn of day we shall move hence, a great company of storks. We'll fly
first, and do you follow us; thus you cannot miss your way; moreover,
I and the youngsters will keep a sharp eye upon you."
"And the lotos-flower which I was to bring with me," said the Egyptian
princess, "she is flying by my side in the swan's plumage! I bring
with me the flower of my heart; and thus the riddle has been read.
Homeward! homeward!"
But Helga declared she could not quit the Danish land before she had
once more seen her foster-mother, the affectionate Viking woman. Every
beautiful recollection, every kind word, every tear that her
foster-mother had wept for her, rose up in her memory, and in that
moment she almost felt as if she loved the Viking woman best of all.
"Yes, we must go to the Viking's castle," said stork-papa; "mother and
the youngsters are waiting for us there. How they will turn up their
eyes and flap their wings! Yes, you see mother doesn't speak
much--she's short and dry, but she means all the better. I'll begin
clapping at once, that they may know we're coming." And stork-papa
clapped in first-rate style, and they all flew away towards the
Viking's castle.
In the castle every one was sunk in deep sleep. The Viking's wife had
not retired to rest until it was late. She was anxious about Helga,
who had vanished with a Christian priest three days before: she knew
Helga must have assisted him in his flight, for it was the girl's
horse that had been missed from the stables; but how all this had been
effected was a mystery to her. The Viking woman had heard of the
miracles told of the Christian priest, and which were said to be
wrought by him and by those who believed in his words and followed
him. Her passing thoughts formed themselves into a dream, and it
seemed to her that she was still lying awake on her couch, and that
deep darkness reigned without. The storm drew near: she heard the sea
roaring and rolling to the east and to the west, like the waves of the
North Sea and the Cattegat. The immense snake which was believed to
surround the span of the earth in the depths of the ocean was
trembling in convulsions; she dreamed that the night of the fall of
the gods had come--Ragnarok, as the heathen called the last day, when
everything was to pass away, even the great gods themselves. The
war-trumpet sounded, and the gods rode over the rainbow, clad in
steel, to fight the last battle. The winged Valkyrs rode before them,
and the dead warriors closed the train. The whole firmament was ablaze
with northern lights, and yet the darkness seemed to predominate. It
was a terrible hour.
And close by the terrified Viking woman Helga seemed to be crouching
on the floor in the hideous frog form, trembling and pressing close to
her foster-mother, who took her on her lap and embraced her
affectionately, hideous though she was. The air resounded with the
blows of clubs and swords, and with the hissing of arrows, as if a
hailstorm were passing across it. The hour was come when earth and sky
were to burst, the stars to fall, and all things to be swallowed up in
Surtur's sea of fire; but she knew that there would be a new heaven
and a new earth, that the corn fields then would wave where now the
ocean rolled over the desolate tracts of sand, and that the
unutterable God would reign; and up to Him rose Bulder the gentle, the
affectionate, delivered from the kingdom of the dead; he came; the
Viking woman saw him, and recognized his countenance; it was that of
the captive Christian priest. "White Christian!" she cried aloud, and
with these words she pressed a kiss upon the forehead of the hideous
frog-child. Then the frog-skin fell off, and Helga stood revealed in
all her beauty, lovely and gentle as she had never appeared, and with
beaming eyes. She kissed her foster-mother's hands, blessed her for
all the care and affection lavished during the days of bitterness and
trial, for the thought she had awakened and cherished in her, for
naming the name, which she repeated, "White Christian;" and beauteous
Helga arose in the form of a mighty swan, and spread her white wings
with a rushing like the sound of a troop of birds of passage winging
their way through the air.
The Viking woman woke; and she heard the same noise without still
continuing. She knew it was the time for the storks to depart, and
that it must be those birds whose wings she heard. She wished to see
them once more, and to bid them farewell as they set forth on their
journey. Therefore she rose from her couch and stepped out upon the
threshold, and on the top of the gable she saw stork ranged behind
stork, and around the castle, over the high trees, flew bands of
storks wheeling in wide circles; but opposite the threshold where she
stood, by the well where Helga had often sat and alarmed her with her
wildness, sat two white swans gazing at her with intelligent eyes. And
she remembered her dream, which still filled her soul as if it were
reality. She thought of Helga in the shape of a swan, and of the
Christian priest; and suddenly she felt her heart rejoice within her.
[Illustration: THE DISGUISED PRINCESSES BID FAREWELL TO THE VIKING
WOMAN.]
The swans flapped their wings and arched their necks, as if they would
send her a greeting, and the Viking's wife spread out her arms
towards them, as if she felt all this; and smiled through her tears,
and then stood sunk in deep thought.
Then all the storks arose, flapping their wings and clapping with
their beaks, to start on their voyage towards the South.
"We will not wait for the swans," said stork-mamma: "if they want to
go with us they had better come. We can't sit here till the plovers
start. It is a fine thing, after all, to travel in this way, in
families, not like the finches and partridges, where the male and
female birds fly in separate bodies, which appears to me a very
unbecoming thing. What are yonder swans flapping their wings for?"
"Well, everyone flies in his own fashion," said stork-papa: "the swans
in an oblique line, the cranes in a triangle, and the plovers in a
snake's line."
"Don't talk about snakes while we are flying up here," said
stork-mamma. "It only puts ideas into the children's heads which can't
be gratified."
* * * * *
"Are those the high mountains of which I heard tell?" asked Helga, in
the swan's plumage.
"They are storm clouds driving on beneath us," replied her mother.
"What are yonder white clouds that rise so high?" asked Helga again.
"Those are the mountains covered with perpetual snow which you see
yonder," replied her mother.
And they flew across the lofty Alps towards the blue Mediterranean.
"Africa's land! Egypt's strand!" sang, rejoicingly, in her swan's
plumage, the daughter of the Nile, as from the lofty air she saw her
native land looming in the form of a yellowish wavy stripe of shore.
And all the birds caught sight of it, and hastened their flight.
"I can scent the Nile mud and wet frogs," said stork-mamma; "I begin
to feel quite hungry. Yes; now you shall taste something nice; and you
will see the maraboo bird, the crane, and the ibis. They all belong to
our family, though they are not nearly so beautiful as we. They give
themselves great airs, especially the ibis. He has been quite spoilt
by the Egyptians, for they make a mummy of him and stuff him with
spices. I would rather be stuffed with live frogs, and so would you,
and so you shall. Better have something in one's inside while one is
alive than to be made a fuss with after one is dead. That's my
opinion, and I am always right."
"Now the storks are come," said the people in the rich house on the
banks of the Nile, where the royal lord lay in the open hall on the
downy cushions, covered with a leopard skin, not alive and yet not
dead, but waiting and hoping for the lotos-flower from the deep
moorland, in the far North. Friends and servants stood around his
couch.
[Illustration: THE KING OF EGYPT'S RECOVERY.]
And into the hall flew two beauteous swans. They had come with the
storks. They threw off their dazzling white plumage, and two lovely
female forms were revealed, as like each other as two dewdrops. They
bent over the old, pale, sick man, they put back their long hair, and
while Helga bent over her grandfather, his white cheeks reddened, his
eyes brightened, and life came back to his wasted limbs. The old man
rose up cheerful and well; and daughter and granddaughter embraced him
joyfully, as if they were giving him a morning greeting after a long
heavy dream.
And joy reigned through the whole house, and likewise in the stork's
nest, though there the chief cause was certainly the good food,
especially the numberless frogs, which seemed to spring up in heaps
out of the ground; and while the learned men wrote down hastily, in
flying characters, a sketch of the history of the two princesses, and
of the flower of health that had been a source of joy for the home and
the land, the stork pair told the story to their family in their own
fashion, but not till all had eaten their fill, otherwise the
youngsters would have found something more interesting to do than to
listen to stories.
"Now, at last, you will become something," whispered stork-mamma,
"there's no doubt about that."
"What should I become?" asked stork-papa. "What have I done? Nothing
at all!"
"You have done more than the rest! But for you and the youngsters the
two princesses would never have seen Egypt again, or have effected the
old man's cure. You will turn out something! They must certainly give
you a doctor's degree, and our youngsters will inherit it, and so will
their children after them, and so on. You already look like an
Egyptian doctor; at least in my eyes."
"I cannot quite repeat the words as they were spoken," said
stork-papa, who had listened from the roof to the report of these
events, made by the learned men, and was now telling it again to his
own family. "What they said was so confused, it was so wise and
learned, that they immediately received rank and presents--even the
head cook received an especial mark of distinction--probably for the
soup."
"And what did you receive?" asked stork-mamma. "Surely they ought not
to forget the most important person of all, and you are certainly he!
The learned men have done nothing throughout the whole affair but used
their tongues; but you will doubtless receive what is due to you."
Late in the night, when the gentle peace of sleep rested upon the now
happy house, there was one who still watched. It was not stork-papa,
though he stood upon one leg, and slept on guard--it was Helga who
watched. She bowed herself forward over the balcony, and looked into
the clear air, gazed at the great gleaming stars, greater and purer in
their lustre than she had ever seen them in the North, and yet the
same orbs. She thought of the Viking woman in the wild moorland, of
the gentle eyes of her foster-mother, and of the tears which the kind
soul had wept over the poor frog-child that now lived in splendour
under the gleaming stars, in the beauteous spring air on the banks of
the Nile. She thought of the love that dwelt in the breast of the
heathen woman, the love that had been shown to a wretched creature,
hateful in human form, and hideous in its transformation. She looked
at the gleaming stars, and thought of the glory that had shone upon
the forehead of the dead man, when she flew with him through the
forest and across the moorland; sounds passed through her memory,
words she had heard pronounced as they rode onward, and when she was
borne wondering and trembling through the air, words from the great
Fountain of love that embraces all human kind.
Yes, great things had been achieved and won! Day and night beautiful
Helga was absorbed in the contemplation of the great sum of her
happiness, and stood in the contemplation of it like a child that
turns hurriedly from the giver to gaze on the splendours of the gifts
it has received. She seemed to lose herself in the increasing
happiness, in contemplation of what might come, of what would come.
Had she not been borne by miracle to greater and greater bliss? And in
this idea she one day lost herself so completely, that she thought no
more of the Giver. It was the exuberance of youthful courage,
unfolding its wings for a bold flight! Her eyes were gleaming with
courage, when suddenly a loud noise in the courtyard below recalled
her thoughts from their wandering flight. There she saw two great
ostriches running round rapidly in a narrow circle. Never before had
she seen such creatures--great clumsy things they were, with wings
that looked as if they had been clipped, and the birds themselves
looking as if they had suffered violence of some kind; and now for the
first time she heard the legend which the Egyptians tell of the
ostrich.
Once, they say, the ostriches were a beautiful, glorious race of
birds, with strong large wings; and one evening the larger birds of
the forest said to the ostrich, "Brother, shall we fly to-morrow, _God
willing_, to the river to drink?" And the ostrich answered, "I will."
At daybreak, accordingly, they winged their flight from thence, flying
first up on high, towards the sun, that gleamed like the eye of
God--higher and higher, the ostrich far in advance of all the other
birds. Proudly the ostrich flew straight towards the light, boasting
of his strength, and not thinking of the Giver or saying, "God
willing!" Then suddenly the avenging angel drew aside the veil from
the flaming ocean of sunlight, and in a moment the wings of the proud
bird were scorched and shrivelled up, and he sank miserably to the
ground. Since that time, the ostrich has never again been able to
raise himself in the air, but flees timidly along the ground, and runs
round in a narrow circle. And this is a warning for us men, that in
all our thoughts and schemes, in all our doings and devices, we should
say, "God willing." And Helga bowed her head thoughtfully and gravely,
and looked at the circling ostrich, noticing its timid fear, and its
stupid pleasure at sight of its own great shadow cast upon the white
sunlit wall. And seriousness struck its roots deep into her mind and
heart. A rich life in present and future happiness was given and won;
and what was yet to come? the best of all, "_God willing_."
In early spring, when the storks flew again towards the North,
beautiful Helga took off her golden bracelet, and scratched her name
upon it; and beckoning to the stork-father, she placed the golden hoop
around his neck, and begged him to deliver it to the Viking woman, so
that the latter might see that her adopted daughter was well, and had
not forgotten her.
"That's heavy to carry," thought the stork-papa, when he had the
golden ring round his neck; "but gold and honour are not to be flung
into the street. The stork brings good fortune; they'll be obliged to
acknowledge that over yonder."
"You lay gold and I lay eggs," said the stork-mamma. "But with you
it's only once in a way, whereas I lay eggs every year; but neither of
us is appreciated--that's very disheartening."
"Still one has one's inward consciousness, mother," replied
stork-papa.
"But you can't hang that round your neck," stork-mamma retorted; "and
it won't give you a good wind or a good meal."
The little nightingale, singing yonder in the tamarind tree, will soon
be going north too. Helga the fair had often heard the sweet bird sing
up yonder by the wild moor; now she wanted to give it a message to
carry, for she had learned the language of birds when she flew in the
swan's plumage; she had often conversed with stork and with swallow,
and she knew the nightingale would understand her. So she begged the
little bird to fly to the beech wood, on the peninsula of Jutland,
where the grave-hill had been reared with stones and branches, and
begged the nightingale to persuade all other little birds that they
might build their nests around the place, so that the song of birds
should resound over that sepulchre for evermore. And the nightingale
flew away--and time flew away.
[Illustration: A MESSAGE TO THE VIKING WOMAN.]
In autumn the eagle stood upon the pyramid and saw a stately train of
richly laden camels approaching, and richly attired armed men on
foaming Arab steeds, shining white as silver, with pink trembling
nostrils, and great thick manes hanging down almost over their slender
legs. Wealthy guests, a royal prince of Arabia, handsome as a prince
should be, came into the proud mansion on whose roof the stork's nests
now stood empty: those who had inhabited the nest were away now, in
the far north; but they would soon return. And, indeed, they returned
on that very day that was so rich in joy and gladness. Here a marriage
was celebrated, and fair Helga was the bride, shining in jewels and
silk. The bridegroom was the young Arab prince, and bride and
bridegroom sat together at the upper end of the table, between mother
and grandfather.
But her gaze was not fixed upon the bridegroom, with his manly
sun-browned cheeks, round which a black beard curled; she gazed not at
his dark fiery eyes that were fixed upon her--but far away at a
gleaming star that shone down from the sky.
Then strong wings were heard beating the air. The storks were coming
home, and however tired the old stork pair might be from the journey,
and however much they needed repose, they did not fail to come down at
once to the balustrades of the verandah; for they knew what feast was
being celebrated. Already on the frontier of the land they had heard
that Helga had caused their figures to be painted on the wall--for did
they not belong to her history?
"That's very pretty and suggestive," said stork-papa.
"But it's very little," observed stork-mamma. "They could not possibly
have done less."
And when Helga saw them, she rose and came on to the verandah, to
stroke the backs of the storks. The old pair waved their heads and
bowed their necks, and even the youngest among the young ones felt
highly honoured by the reception.