“Beware of Regin, the master! His heart is poisoned. He would be thy
bane.”
And the two birds flew away to carry the news to Odin in the happy halls
of Gladsheim.
When Regin drew near to look upon the dragon, Siegfried kindly accosted
him: but he seemed not to hear; and a snaky glitter lurked in his eyes,
and his mouth was set and dry, and he seemed as one walking in a dream.
“It is mine now,” he murmured: “it is all mine, now,--the Hoard of the
swarthy elf-folk, the garnered wisdom of ages. The strength of the world
is mine. I will keep, I will save, I will heap up; and none shall have
part or parcel of the treasure which is mine alone.”
Then his eyes fell upon Siegfried; and his cheeks grew dark with wrath,
and he cried out,--
“Why are you here in my way? I am the lord of the Glittering Heath: I am
the master of the Hoard. I am the master, and you are my thrall.”
Siegfried wondered at the change which had taken place in his old
master; but he only smiled at his strange words, and made no answer.
“You have slain my brother!” Regin cried; and his face grew fearfully
black, and his mouth foamed with rage.
“It was my deed and yours,” calmly answered Siegfried. “I have rid the
world of a Terror: I have righted a grievous wrong.”
“You have slain my brother,” said Regin; “and a murderer’s ransom you
shall pay!”
“Take the Hoard for your ransom, and let us each wend his way,” said the
lad.
“The Hoard is mine by rights,” answered Regin still more wrathfully. “I
am the master, and you are my thrall. Why stand you in my way?”
Then, blinded with madness, he rushed at Siegfried as if to strike him
down; but his foot slipped in a puddle of gore, and he pitched headlong
against the sharp edge of Balmung. So sudden was this movement, and so
unlooked for, that the sword was twitched out of Siegfried’s hand, and
fell with a dull splash into the blood-filled pit before him; while
Regin, slain by his own rashness, sank dead upon the ground. Full of
horror, Siegfried turned away, and mounted Greyfell.[EN#12]
“This is a place of blood,” said he, “and the way to glory leads not
through it. Let the Hoard still lie on the Glittering Heath: I will go
my way from hence; and the world shall know me for better deeds than
this.”
And he turned his back on the fearful scene, and rode away; and so
swiftly did Greyfell carry him over the desert land and the mountain
waste, that, when night came, they stood on the shore of the great North
Sea, and the white waves broke at their feet. And the lad sat for a long
time silent upon the warm white sand of the beach, and Greyfell waited
at his side. And he watched the stars as they came out one by one, and
the moon, as it rose round and pale, and moved like a queen across the
sky. And the night wore away, and the stars grew pale, and the moon sank
to rest in the wilderness of waters. And at day-dawn Siegfried looked
towards the west, and midway between sky and sea he thought he saw dark
mountain-tops hanging above a land of mists that seemed to float upon
the edge of the sea.
While he looked, a white ship, with sails all set, came speeding over
the waters towards him. It came nearer and nearer, and the sailors
rested upon their oars as it glided into the quiet harbor. A minstrel,
with long white beard floating in the wind, sat at the prow; and the
sweet music from his harp was wafted like incense to the shore. The
vessel touched the sands: its white sails were reefed as if by magic,
and the crew leaped out upon the beach.
“Hail, Siegfried the Golden!” cried the harper. “Whither do you fare
this summer day?”
“I have come from a land of horror and dread,” answered the lad; “and I
would fain fare to a brighter.”
“Then go with me to awaken the earth from its slumber, and to robe the
fields in their garbs of beauty,” said the harper. And he touched the
strings of his harp, and strains of the softest music arose in the still
morning air. And Siegfried stood entranced, for never before had he
heard such music.
“Tell me who you are!” he cried, when the sounds died away. “Tell me who
you are, and I will go to the ends of the earth with you.”
“I am Bragi,” answered the harper, smiling. And Siegfried noticed then
that the ship was laden with flowers of every hue, and that thousands
of singing birds circled around and above it, filling the air with the
sound of their glad twitterings.
Now, Bragi was the sweetest musician in all the world. It was said by
some that his home was with the song-birds, and that he had learned his
skill from them. But this was only part of the truth: for wherever there
was loveliness or beauty, or things noble and pure, there was Bragi;
and his wondrous power in music and song was but the outward sign of
a blameless soul. When he touched the strings of his golden harp, all
Nature was charmed with the sweet harmony: the savage beasts of the wood
crept near to listen; the birds paused in their flight; the waves of the
sea were becalmed, and the winds were hushed; the leaping waterfall
was still, and the rushing torrent tarried in its bed; the elves forgot
their hidden treasures, and joined in silent dance around him; and the
strom-karls and the musicians of the wood vainly tried to imitate him.
And he was as fair of speech as he was skilful in song. His words were
so persuasive that he had been known to call the fishes from the sea, to
move great lifeless rocks, and, what is harder, the hearts of kings. He
understood the voice of the birds, and the whispering of the breeze, the
murmur of the waves, and the roar of the waterfalls. He knew the length
and breadth of the earth, and the secrets of the sea, and the language
of the stars. And every day he talked with Odin the All-Father, and with
the wise and good in the sunlit halls of Gladsheim. And once every year
he went to the North-lands, and woke the earth from its long winter’s
sleep, and scattered music and smiles and beauty everywhere.[EN#13]
Right gladly did Siegfried agree to sail with Bragi over the sea; for
he wot that the bright Asa-god would be a very different guide from
the cunning, evil-eyed Regin. So he went on board with Bragi, and the
gleaming Greyfell followed them, and the sailors sat at their oars. And
Bragi stood in the prow, and touched the strings of his harp. And, as
the music arose, the white sails leaped up the masts, and a warm south
breeze began to blow; and the little vessel, wafted by sweet sounds and
the incense of spring, sped gladly away over the sea.
Adventure V. In AEgir’s Kingdom.
The vessel in which Siegfried sailed was soon far out at sea; for the
balmy south wind, and the songs of the birds, and the music from Bragi’s
harp, all urged it cheerily on. And Siegfried sat at the helm, and
guided it in its course. By and by they lost all sight of land, and the
sailors wist not where they were; but they knew that Bragi, the Wise,
would bring them safely into some haven whenever it should so please
him, and they felt no fear. And the fishes leaped up out of the water
as the white ship sped by on woven wings; and the monsters of the deep
paused, and listened to the sweet music which floated down from above.
After a time the vessel began to meet great ice-mountains in the
sea,--mountains which the Reifriesen, and old Hoder, the King of the
winter months, had sent drifting down from the frozen land of the north.
But these melted at the sound of Bragi’s music and at the sight of
Siegfried’s radiant armor. And the cold breath of the Frost-giants,
which had driven them in their course, turned, and became the ally of
the south wind.
At length they came in sight of a dark shore, which stretched on either
hand, north and south, as far as the eye could reach; and as they drew
nearer they saw a line of huge mountains, rising, as it were, out of
the water, and stretching their gray heads far above the clouds. And
the overhanging cliffs seemed to look down, half in anger, half in pity,
upon the little white winged vessel which had dared thus to sail through
these unknown waters. But the surface of the sea was smooth as glass;
and the gentle breeze drove the ship slowly forwards through the calm
water, and along the rock-bound coast, and within the dark shadows of
the mountain-peaks. Long ago the Frost-giants had piled great heaps of
snow upon these peaks, and built huge fortresses of ice between,
and sought, indeed, to clasp in their cold embrace the whole of the
Norwegian land. But the breezes of the South-land that came with Bragi’s
ship now played among the rocky steeps, and swept over the frozen
slopes above, and melted the snow and ice; and thousands of rivulets of
half-frozen water ran down the mountain-sides, and tumbled into rocky
gorges, or plunged into the sea. And the grass began to grow on the
sunny slopes, and the flowers peeped up through the half-melted snow,
and the music of spring was heard on every side. Now and then the little
vessel passed by deep, dark inlets enclosed between high mountain-walls,
and reaching many leagues far into land. But the sailors steered clear
of these shadowy fjords; for they said that Ran, the dread Ocean-queen,
lived there, and spread her nets in the deep green waters to entangle
unwary seafaring men. And the sound of Bragi’s harp awakened all
sleeping things; and it was carried from rock to rock, and from
mountain-height to valley, and was borne on the breeze far up the
fjords, and all over the land.
One day, as they were sailing through these quiet waters, beneath the
overhanging cliffs, Bragi tuned his harp, and sang a song of sea. And
then he told Siegfried a story of AEgir and his gold-lit hall.
Old AEgir was the Ocean-king. At most times he was rude and rough, and
his manners were uncouth and boisterous. But when Balder, the Shining
One, smiled kindly upon him from above, or when Bragi played his harp by
the seashore, or sailed his ship on the waters, the heart of the bluff
old king was touched with a kindly feeling, and he tried hard to curb
his ungentle passions, and to cease his blustering ways. He was one of
the old race of giants; and men believe that he would have been a very
good and quiet giant, had it not been for the evil ways of his wife, the
crafty Queen Ran. For, however kind at heart the king might be, his good
intentions were almost always thwarted by the queen. Ran could never be
trusted; and no one, unless it were Loki, the Mischief-maker, could ever
say any thing in her praise. She was always lurking among hidden rocks,
or in the deep sea, or along the shores of silent fjords, and reaching
out with her long lean fingers, seeking to clutch in her greedy grasp
whatever prey might unwarily come near her. And many richly-laden
vessels, and many brave seamen and daring warriors, had she dragged down
to her blue-hung chamber in old AEgir’s hall.