“What think you, friend Siegfried, of such princely ransom?”
“Noble lord,” said Siegfried, “I think you are in need of no such
ransom. Friendship is worth much more than gold. If your kingly captives
will promise, on their honor, never more to come towards Burgundy as
enemies, let them go. We have no need of gold.”
“‘Tis well said,” cried Gunther highly pleased.
And Leudiger and Leudigast, with tears of thankfulness, gladly made
the asked-for promise, and on the morrow, with light hearts and costly
gifts, they set out on their journey homewards.
When all the guests had gone, and the daily routine of idle palace-life
set in again, Siegfried began to talk of going back to Nibelungen
Land. But young Giselher, and the peerless Kriemhild, and King Gunther,
besought him to stay yet a little longer. And he yielded to their kind
wishes. And autumn passed away with its fruits and its vintage, and grim
old winter came howling down from the north, and Siegfried was still
in Burgundy. And then old Hoder, the king of the winter months,
came blustering through the Rhine valley; and with him were the
Reifriesen,--the thieves that steal the daylight from the earth and
the warmth from the sun. And they nipped the flowers, and withered the
grass, and stripped the trees, and sealed up the rivers, and covered the
earth with a white mantle of sorrow.
But within King Gunther’s wide halls there was joy and good cheer.
And the season of the Yule-feast came, and still Siegfried tarried in
Burgundy-land.
Adventure XIII. The Story of Balder.
There was mirth in King Gunther’s dwelling, for the time of the
Yule-feast had come. The broad banquet hall was gayly decked with cedar
and spruce and sprigs of the mistletoe; and the fires roared in the
great chimneys, throwing warmth and a ruddy glow of light into every
corner of the room. The long table fairly groaned under its weight of
good cheer. At its head sat the kings and the earl-folk; and before
them, on a silver platter of rare workmanship, was the head of a huge
wild boar,--the festal offering to the good Frey, in honor of whom
the Yule-feast was held. For now the sun, which had been driven by the
Frost-giants far away towards the South-land, had begun to return, and
Frey was on his way once more to scatter peace and plenty over the land.
The harp and the wassail-bowl went round; and each one of the company
sang a song, or told a story, or in some way did his part to add to the
evening’s enjoyment. And a young sea-king who sat at Siegfried’s side
told most bewitching tales of other lands which lie beyond Old AEgir’s
kingdom. Then, when the harp came to him, he sang the wondrous song of
the shaping of the earth. And all who heard were charmed with the sweet
sound and with the pleasant words. He sang of the sunlight and the south
winds and the summer-time, of the storms and the snow and the sombre
shadows of the North-land. And he sang of the dead Ymir, the giant whose
flesh had made the solid earth, and whose blood the sea, and whose bones
the mountains, whose teeth the cliffs and crags, and whose skull the
heavens. And he sang of Odin, the earth’s preserver, the Giver of life,
the Father of all; and of the Asa-folk who dwell in Asgard; and of
the ghostly heroes in Valhal. Then he sang of the heaven-tower of the
thunder-god, and of the shimmering Asa-bridge, or rainbow, all afire;
and, lastly, of the four dwarfs who hold the blue sky-dome above them,
and of the elves of the mountains, and of the wood-sprites and
the fairies. Then he laid aside his harp, and told the old but
ever-beautiful story of the death of Balder the Good.
The Story.
Balder, as you know, was Odin’s son; and he was the brightest and
best of all the Asa-folk. Wherever he went, there were gladness and
light-hearted mirth, and blooming flowers, and singing birds, and
murmuring waterfalls. Balder, too, was a hero, but not one of the
blustering kind, like Thor. He slew no giants; he never went into
battle; he never tried to make for himself a name among the dwellers of
the mid-world; and yet he was a hero of the noblest type. He dared to do
right, and to stand up for the good, the true, and the beautiful. There
are still some such heroes, but the world does not always hear of them.
Hoder, the blind king of the winter months, was Balder’s brother, and as
unlike him as darkness is unlike daylight. While one rejoiced, and
was merry and cheerful, the other was low-spirited and sad. While one
scattered sunshine and blessings everywhere, the other carried with him
a sense of cheerlessness and gloom. Yet the brothers loved each other
dearly.
One night Balder dreamed a strange dream, and when he awoke he could not
forget it. All day long he was thoughtful and sad, and he was not his
own bright, happy self. His mother, the Asa-queen, saw that something
troubled him; and she asked,--
“Whence comes that cloud upon your brow? Will you suffer it to chase
away all your sunshine? and will you become, like your brother Hoder,
all frowns and sighs and tears?”
Then Balder told her what he had dreamed; and she, too, was sorely
troubled, for it was a frightful dream, and foreboded dire disasters.
Then both she and Balder went to Odin, and to him they told the cause
of their uneasiness. And the All-Father also was distressed; for he knew
that such dreams, dreamed by Asa-folk, were the forewarnings of evil. So
he saddled his eight-footed steed Sleipner; and, without telling any one
where he was going, he rode with the speed of the winds down into
the Valley of Death. The dog that guards the gateway to that dark and
doleful land came out to meet him. Blood was on the fierce beast’s
breast, and he barked loudly and angrily at the All-Father and his
wondrous horse. But Odin sang sweet magic songs as he drew near; and the
dog was charmed with the sound, and Sleipner and his rider went onward
in safety. And they passed the dark halls of the pale-faced queen, and
came to the east gate of the valley. There stood the low hut of a witch
who lived in darkness, and, like the Norns, spun the thread of fate for
gods and men.
Odin stood before the hut, and sang a wondrous song of witchery and
enchantment; and he laid a spell upon the weird woman, and forced her to
come out of her dark dwelling, and to answer his questions.
“Who is this stranger?” asked the witch. “Who is this unknown who calls
me from my narrow home, and sets an irksome task for me? Long have I
been left alone in my quiet house; nor recked I that the snow sometimes
covered with its cold white mantle both me and my resting-place, or that
the pattering rain and the gently falling dew often moistened the roof
of my dwelling. Long have I rested quietly, and I do not wish now to be
aroused.”
“I am Valtam’s son,” said Odin; “and I come to learn of thee. Tell me,
I pray, for whom are the soft couches prepared that I saw in the broad
halls of Death? For whom are the jewels, and the rings, and the rich
clothing, and the shining shield?”
“All are for Balder, Odin’s son,” she answered. “And the mead which has
been brewed for him is hidden beneath the shining shield.”
Then Odin asked who would be the slayer of Balder, and she answered that
Hoder was the one who would send the shining Asa to the halls of Death.
“Who will avenge Balder, and bring distress upon his slayer?” asked
Odin.
“A son of Earth but one day old shall be Balder’s avenger. Go thou now
home, Odin; for I know thou art not Valtam’s son. Go home; and none
shall again awaken me, nor disturb me at my task, until the new day
shall dawn, and Balder shall rule over the young world in its purity,
and there shall be no more Death.”
Then Odin rode sorrowfully homeward; but he told no one of his journey
to the Dark Valley, nor of what the weird witch had said to him.
Balder’s mother, the Asa-queen, could not rest because of the ill-omened
dream that her son had had; and in her distress she called all the
Asa-folk together to consider what should be done. But they were
speechless with sorrow and alarm; and none could offer advice, nor set
her mind at ease. Then she sought out every living creature, and every
lifeless thing, upon the earth, and asked each one to swear that it
would not on any account hurt Balder, nor touch him to do him harm. And
this oath was willingly made by fire and water, earth and air, by all
beasts and creeping things and birds and fishes, by the rocks and by the
trees and all metals; for every thing loved Balder the Good.
Then the Asa-folk thought that great honor was shown to Balder each time
any thing refused to hurt him; and to show their love for him, as well
as to amuse themselves, they often hewed at him with their battle-axes,
or struck at him with their sharp swords, or hurled toward him their
heavy lances. For every weapon turned aside from its course, and would
neither mark nor bruise the shining target at which it was aimed; and
Balder’s princely beauty shone as bright and as pure as ever.
When Loki the Mischief-maker saw how all things loved and honored
Balder, his heart was filled with jealous hate, and he sought all over
the earth for some beast or bird or tree or lifeless thing, that had
not taken the oath. But he could find not one. Then, disguised as a fair
maiden, he went to Fensal Hall, where dwelt Balder’s mother. The fair
Asa-queen was busy at her distaff, with her golden spindles, spinning
flax to be woven into fine linen for the gods. And her maid-servant,
Fulla of the flowing hair, sat on a stool beside her. When the queen saw
Loki, she asked,--
“Whence come you, fair stranger? and what favor would you ask of Odin’s
wife?”
“I come,” answered the disguised Loki, “from the plains of Ida, where
the gods meet for pleasant pastime, as well as to talk of the weightier
matters of their kingdom.”
“And how do they while away their time to-day?” asked the queen.
“They have a pleasant game which they call Balder’s Honor,” was the
answer. “The shining hero stands before them as a target, and each one
tries his skill at hurling some weapon toward him. First Odin throws at
him the spear Gungner, which never before was known to miss its mark;
but it passes harmlessly over Balder’s head. Then Thor takes up a huge
rock, and hurls it full at Balder’s breast; but it turns in its course,
and will not smite the sun-bright target. Then Tyr seizes a battle-axe,
and strikes at Balder as though he would hew him down; but the keen edge
refuses to touch him: and in this way the Asa-folk show honor to the
best of their number.”
The Asa-queen smiled in the glad pride of her mother-heart, and said,
“Yes, every thing shows honor to the best of Odin’s sons; for neither
metal nor wood nor stone nor fire nor water will touch Balder to do him
harm.”
“Is it true, then,” asked Loki, “that every thing has made an oath to
you, and promised not to hurt your son?”
And the queen, not thinking what harm an unguarded word might do,
answered, “Every thing has promised, save a little feeble sprig that men
call the mistletoe. So small and weak it is, that I knew it could never
harm any one; and so I passed it by, and did not ask it to take the
oath.”
Then Loki went out of Fensal Hall, and left the Asa-queen at her
spinning. And he walked briskly away, and paused not until he came to
the eastern side of Valhal, where, on the branches of an old oak, the
mistletoe grew. Rudely he tore the plant from its supporting branch, and
hid it under his cloak. Then he walked leisurely back to the place where
the Asa-folk were wont to meet in council.
The next day the Asas went out, as usual, to engage in pleasant pastimes
on the plains of Ida. When they had tired of leaping and foot-racing and
tilting, they placed Balder before them as a target again; and, as
each threw his weapon toward the shining mark, they laughed to see the
missile turn aside from its course, and refuse to strike the honored
one. But blind Hoder stood sorrowfully away from the others, and did not
join in any of their sports. Loki, seeing this, went to him and said,--
“Brother of the gloomy brow, why do you not take part with us in our
games?”
“I am blind,” answered Hoder. “I can neither leap, nor run, nor throw
the lance.”
“But you can shoot arrows from your bow,” said Loki.
“Alas!” said Hoder, “that I can do only as some one shall direct my aim,
for I can see no target.”
“Do you hear that laughter?” asked Loki. “Thor has hurled the straight
trunk of a pine-tree at your brother; and, rather than touch such a
glorious mark; it has turned aside, and been shivered to pieces upon the
rocks over there. It is thus that the Asa-folk, and all things living
and lifeless, honor Balder. Hoder is the only one who hangs his head,
and fears to do his part. Come, now, let me fit this little arrow in
your bow, and then, as I point it, do you shoot. When you hear the gods
laugh, you will know that your arrow has shown honor to the hero by
refusing to hit him.”
And Hoder, thinking no harm, did as Loki wished. And the deadly arrow
sped from the bow, and pierced the heart of shining Balder, and he
sank lifeless upon the ground. Then the Asa-folk who saw it were struck
speechless with sorrow and dismay; and, had it not been that the Ida
plains where they then stood were sacred to peace, they would have
seized upon Loki, and put him to death.
Forthwith the world was draped in mourning for Balder the Good;
the birds stopped singing, and flew with drooping wings to the far
South-land; the beasts sought to hide themselves in their lairs and
in the holes of the ground; the trees shivered and sighed until their
leaves fell withered to the earth; the flowers closed their eyes, and
died; the rivers stopped flowing, and dark and threatening billows
veiled the sea; even the sun shrouded his face, and withdrew silently
towards the south.
When Balder’s good mother heard the sad news, she left her golden
spindle in Fensal Hall, and with her maidens hastened to the Ida-plains,
where the body of her son still lay. Nanna, the faithful wife of Balder,
was already there; and wild was her grief at sight of the lifeless
loved one. And all the Asa-folk--save guilty Loki, who had fled for
his life--stood about them in dumb amazement. But Odin was the most
sorrowful of all; for he knew, that, with Balder, the world had lost its
most gladsome life.
They lifted the body, and carried it down to the sea, where the great
ship “Ringhorn,” which Balder himself had built, lay ready to be
launched. And a great company followed, and stood upon the beach, and
bewailed the untimely death of the hero. First came Odin, with his
grief-stricken queen, and then his troop of handmaidens, the Valkyrien,
followed by his ravens Hugin and Munin. Then came Thor in his goat-drawn
car, and Heimdal on his horse Goldtop; then Frey, in his wagon, behind
the boar Gullinbruste of the golden bristles. Then Freyja, in her
chariot drawn by cats, came weeping tears of gold. Lastly, poor blind
Hoder, overcome with grief, was carried thither on the back of one of
the Frost-giants. And Old AEgir, the Ocean king, raised his dripping
head above the water, and gazed with dewy eyes upon the scene; and the
waves, as if affrighted, left off their playing, and were still.
High on the deck they built the funeral-pile; and they placed the body
upon it, and covered it with costly garments, and with woods of the
finest scent; and the noble horse which had been Balder’s they slew, and
placed beside him, that he might not have to walk to the halls of Death.
And Odin took from his finger the ring Draupner, the earth’s enricher,
and laid it on the pile. Then Nanna, the faithful wife, was overcome
with grief, and her gentle heart was broken, and she fell lifeless at
the feet of the Asa-queen. And they carried her upon the ship, and laid
her by her husband’s side.
When all things were in readiness to set fire to the pile, the gods
tried to launch the ship; but it was so heavy that they could not move
it. So they sent in haste to Jotunheim for the stout giantess Hyrroken;
and she came with the speed of the whirlwind, and riding on a wolf,
which she guided with a bridle of writhing snakes.
“What will you have me do?” she asked.
“We would have you launch the great ship ‘Ring horn,’” answered Odin.
“That I will do!” roared the grim giantess. And, giving the vessel a
single push, she sent it sliding with speed into the deep waters of the
bay. Then she gave the word to her grisly steed, and she flew onwards
and away, no one knew whither.
The “Ringhorn” floated nobly upon the water,--a worthy bier for the body
which it bore. The fire was set to the funeral-pile, and the red flames
shot upwards to the sky; but their light was but a flickering beam when
matched with the sun-bright beauty of Balder, whose body they consumed.
Then the sorrowing folk turned away, and went back to their homes: a
cheerless gloom rested heavily where light gladness had ruled before.
And, when they reached the high halls of Asgard, the Asa-queen spoke,
and said,--
“Who now, for the love of Balder and his stricken mother, will undertake
an errand? Who will go down into the Valley of Death, and seek for
Balder, and ransom him, and bring him back to Asgard and the mid-world?”
Then Hermod the Nimble, the brother of Balder, answered, “I will go. I
will find him, and, with Hela’s leave, will bring him back.”
And he mounted Sleipner, the eight-footed steed, and galloped swiftly
away. Nine days and nine nights he rode through strange valleys and
mountain gorges, where the sun’s light had never been, and through
gloomy darkness and fearful silence, until he came to the black river,
and the glittering, golden bridge which crosses it. Over the bridge his
strong horse carried him; although it shook and swayed and threatened to
throw him into the raging, inky flood below. On the other side a maiden
keeps the gate, and Hermod stopped to pay the toll.
“What is thy name?” she asked.
“My name is Hermod, and I am called the Nimble,” he answered.
“What is thy father’s name?”
“His name is Odin. Mayhap you have heard of him.”
“Why ridest thou with such thunderous speed? Five kingdoms of dead men
passed over this bridge yesterday, and it shook not with their weight
as it did with thee and thy strange steed. Thou art not of the pale
multitude that are wont to pass this gate. What is thy errand? and why
ridest thou to the domains of the dead?”
“I go to find my brother Balder,” answered Hermod. “It is but a short
time since he unwillingly came down into these shades.”
“Three days ago,” said the maiden, “Balder passed this way, and by his
side rode the faithful Nanna. So bright was his presence, even here,
that the whole valley was lighted up as it had never before been
lighted. The black river glittered like a gem; the frowning mountains
smiled for once; and Hela herself, the queen of these regions, slunk far
away into her most distant halls. But Balder went on his way, and even
now he sups with Nanna in the dark castle over yonder.”
Then Hermod rode forward till he came to the castle walls. These were
built of black marble; and the iron gate was barred and bolted, and none
who went in had ever yet come out. Hermod called loudly to the porter
to open the gate and let him in; but no one seemed to hear nor heed him,
for the words of the living are unknown in that place. Then he drew
the saddle-girths more tightly around the horse Sleipner, and urged him
forward. High up, the great horse leaped; and he sprang clear over the
gates, and landed at the open door of the great hall. Leaving his steed,
Hermod went boldly in; and there he found his brother Balder and the
faithful Nanna seated at the festal board, and honored as the most
worthy of all the guests. With Balder, Hermod staid until the night had
passed; and many were the pleasant words they spoke. When morning came,
Hermod went into the presence of Hela, and said,--
“O mighty queen! I come to ask a boon of thee. Balder the Good, whom
both gods and men loved, has been sent to dwell with thee here in thy
darksome house; and all the world weeps for him, and has donned the garb
of mourning, and cannot be consoled until his bright light shall shine
upon them again. And the gods have sent me, his brother, to ask thee to
let Balder ride back with me to Asgard, to his noble, sorrowing mother,
the Asa-queen; for then will hope live again in the hearts of men, and
happiness will return to the earth.”
The Death-queen was silent for a moment; and then she said in a sad
voice, “Hardly can I believe that any being is so greatly loved by
things living and lifeless; for surely Balder is not more the friend of
earth than I am, and yet men love me not. But go thou back to Asgard;
and, if every thing shall weep for Balder, then I will send him to
you. But, if any thing shall refuse to weep, then I will keep him in my
halls.”
So Hermod made ready to return home; and Balder gave him the ring
Draupner to carry to his father as a keepsake; and Nanna sent to the
queen-mother a rich carpet of purest green. Then the nimble messenger
mounted his horse, and rode swiftly back over the dark river, and
through the frowning valleys, until he at last reached Odin’s halls.
When the Asa-folk learned upon what terms they might have Balder again
with them, they sent heralds all over the world to beseech every thing
to mourn for him. And men and beasts, and creeping things, and birds and
fishes, and trees and stones, and air and water,--all things, living and
lifeless, joined in weeping for the lost Balder.
But, as the heralds were on their way back to Asgard, they met a
giantess named Thok, and they asked her to join in the universal grief.
And she answered, “What good thing did Balder ever do for Thok? What
gladness did he ever bring her? If she should weep for him, it would be
with dry tears. Let Hela keep him in her halls.”[EN#23]
“And yet the day shall come,” added the story-teller, “when the words of
the weird woman to Odin shall prove true; and Balder shall come again to
rule over a newborn world in which there shall be no wrong-doing and no
more death.”
Adventure XIV. How Gunther Outwitted Brunhild.
While still the festivities were at their height, an old man of noble
mien, and with snow-white beard and hair, came into the great hall, and
sang for the gay company. And some whispered that this must be Bragi,
for surely such rare music could not be made by any other. But he sang
not of spring, as Bragi does, nor yet of youth nor of beauty, nor like
one whose home is with the song-birds, and who lives beside the babbling
brooks and the leaping waterfalls. His song was a sorrowful one,--of
dying flowers, and falling leaves, and the wailing winds of autumn, of
forgotten joys, of blasted hopes, of a crushed ambition, of gray hairs,
of uttering footsteps, of old age, of a lonely grave. And, as he sang,
all were moved to tears by the mournful melody and the sad, sad words.
“Good friend,” said Siegfried, “thy music agrees not well with this time
and place; for, where nothing but mirth and joy are welcome, thou hast
brought sorrowful thoughts and gloomy forebodings. Come, now, and undo
the harm thou hast done, by singing a song which shall tell only of
mirth and gladness.”
The old man shook his head, and answered, “Were I Bragi; as some think
I am, or were I even a strolling harper, I might do as you ask. But I am
neither, and I know no gladsome songs. Men have called me a messenger of
ill omen; and such, indeed, I have sometimes been, although through no
wish of my own. I come as a herald from a far-off land, and I bear a
message to all the kings and the noblest chiefs of Rhineland. If King
Gunther will allow me, I will now make that message known.”
“Let the herald speak on,” said Gunther graciously.
“Far over the sea,” said the herald, “there lies a dreamy land called
Isenland; and in that land there is a glorious castle, with six and
eighty towers, built of purest marble, green as grass. In that castle
there lives the fairest of all Earth’s daughters, Brunhild, the maiden
of the spring-time. In the early days she was one of Odin’s Valkyrien;
and with other heavenly maidens it was her duty to follow, unseen, in
the wake of armies, and when they met in battle to hover over the field,
and with kisses to waken the dead heroes, and lead their souls away
to Odin’s glad banquet-hall. But upon a day she failed to do the
All-Father’s bidding, and he, in anger, sent her to live among men, and
like them to be short-lived, and subject to old age and death. But the
childless old king of Isenland took pity upon the friendless maiden, and
called her his daughter, and made her his heir. Then Odin, still more
angered, sent the thorn of sleep to wound the princess. And sleep seized
upon every creature in Isenland, and silence reigned in the halls of the
marble palace. For Odin said, ‘Thus shall they all sleep until the hero
comes, who will ride through fire, and awaken Brunhild with a kiss.’
“At last the hero so long waited for came. He passed the fiery barrier
safe, and awoke the slumbering maiden; and all the castle sprang
suddenly into life again. And Brunhild became known once more as the
most glorious princess in this mid-world. But the sun-bright hero who
freed her from her prison of sleep vanished from Isenland, and no one
knew where he went; but men say that he rides through the noble world,
the fairest and the best of kings. And Brunhild has sought for him in
many lands; and, although all folk have heard of his deeds, none know
where he dwells. And so, as a last resort, she has sent heralds into
every land to challenge every king to match his skill with hers in three
games of strength,--in casting the spear, in hurling the heavy stone,
and in leaping. The one who can equal her in these feats shall be king
of Isenland, and share with her the throne of Isenstein. And by this
means she hopes to find the long-absent hero; for she believes that
there is no other prince on earth whose strength and skill are equal to
her own. Many men have already risked their lives in this adventure, and
all have failed.
“And now, King Gunther,” continued the herald, “I have come by her
orders into Rhineland, and I deliver the challenge to you. If you
accept, and are beaten, your life is forfeited. If you succeed, the
fairest kingdom and the most beautiful queen in the world are yours; for
you will have proved that you are at least the equal of the hero whom
she seeks. What reply shall I carry back to Isenland?”
King Gunther answered hastily, and as one dazed and in a dream, “Say
that I accept the challenge, and that when the spring-time comes again,
and the waters in the river are unlocked, I shall go to Isenland, and
match my skill and strength with that of the fair and mighty Brunhild.”
All who stood around were greatly astonished at Gunther’s reply; for,
although his mind was somewhat weak, he was not given to rash and
hazardous undertakings. And Siegfried, who was at his side, whispered,
“Think twice, friend Gunther, ere you decide. You do not know the
strength of this mighty but lovely warrior-maiden. Were your strength
four times what it is, you could not hope to excel her in those feats.
Give up this hasty plan, I pray you, and recall your answer to the
challenge. Think no more of such an undertaking, for it surely will cost
you your life.”
But these warnings, and the words of others who tried to dissuade him,
only made Gunther the more determined; and he vowed that nothing should
hinder him from undertaking the adventure. Then the dark-browed Hagen
said,--
“Our friend Siegfried seems to know much about Isenland and its
maiden-queen. And indeed, if there is any truth in hearsay, he has had
the best of means for learning. Now, if our good King Gunther has set
his mind on going upon this dangerous enterprise, mayhap Siegfried would
be willing to bear him company.”
Gunther was pleased with Hagen’s words; and he said to Siegfried, “My
best of friends, go with me to Isenland, and help me. If we do well in
our undertaking, ask of me any reward you wish, and I will give it you,
so far as in my power lies.”
“You know, kind Gunther,” answered Siegfried, “that for myself I have
no fear; and yet again I would warn you to shun the unknown dangers with
which this enterprise is fraught. But if, after all, your heart is set
upon it, make ready to start as soon as the warm winds shall have melted
the ice from the river. I will go with you.”
The king grasped Siegfried’s hand, and thanked him heartily.
“We must build a fleet,” said he. “A thousand fighting-men shall go with
us, and we will land in Isenland with a retinue such as no other prince
has had. A number of stanch vessels shall be built at once, and in the
early spring they shall be launched upon the Rhine.”
Siegfried was amused at Gunther’s earnestness, and he answered, “Do
not think of taking such a following. You would waste twelve months in
building and victualling such a fleet. You would take from Burgundy its
only safeguard against foes from without; and, after you should reach
Isenland, you would find such a large force to be altogether useless.
Take my advice: have one small vessel built and rigged and victualled
for the long and dangerous voyage; and, when the time shall come,
you and I, and your kinsmen Hagen and Dankwart,--we four only,--will
undertake the voyage and the emprise you have decided upon.”
Gunther knew that his friend’s judgment in this matter was better than
his own, and he agreed readily to all of Siegfried’s plans.
* * * * *
When, at length, the winter months began to wane, many hands were busy
making ready for the voyage. The peerless Kriemhild called together
thirty of her maidens, the most skilful seamstresses in Burgundyland,
and began the making of rich clothing for her brother and his
friends.[EN#24] With her own fair hands she cut out garments from the
rarest stuffs,--from the silky skins brought from the sunny lands of
Lybia; from the rich cloth of Zazemang, green as clover; from the silk
that traders bring from Araby, white as the drifted snow. For seven
weeks the clever maidens and their gentle mistress plied their busy
needles, and twelve suits of wondrous beauty they made for each of
the four heroes. And the princely garments were covered with fine
needle-work, and with curious devices all studded with rare and costly
jewels; and all were wrought with threads of gold.
Many carpenters and ship-builders were busy with axes and hammers, and
flaming forges, working day and night to make ready a vessel new and
stanch, to carry the adventurers over the sea. And great stores of
food, and of all things needful to their safety or comfort, were brought
together and put on board.
Neither were the heroes themselves idle; for when not busy in giving
directions to the workmen, or in overseeing the preparations that were
elsewhere going on, they spent the time in polishing their armor (now
long unused), in looking after their weapons, or in providing for the
management of their business while away. And Siegfried forgot not his
trusty sword Balmung, nor his cloak of darkness the priceless Tarnkappe,
which he had captured from the dwarf Alberich in the Nibelungen Land.
Then the twelve suits of garments which fair fingers had wrought were
brought. And when the men tried them on, so faultless was the fit, so
rare and perfect was every piece in richness and beauty, that even the
wearers were amazed, and all declared that such dazzling and kingly
raiment had never before been seen.
At last the spring months had fairly vanquished all the forces of the
cold North-land. The warm breezes had melted the snow and ice, and
unlocked the river; and the time had come for Gunther and his comrades
to embark. The little ship, well victualled, and made stanch and stout
in every part, had been launched upon the Rhine; and she waited with
flying streamers and impatient sails the coming of her crew. Down the
sands at length they came, riding upon their steeds; and behind them
followed a train of vassals bearing their kingly garments and their
gold-red shields. And on the banks stood many of the noblest folk of
Burgundy,--Gernot and the young Giselher, and Ute the queen-mother, and
Kriemhild the peerless, and a number of earl-folk, and warriors, and
fair dames, and blushing damsels. And the heroes bade farewell to their
weeping friends, and went upon the waiting vessel, taking their steeds
with them. And Siegfried seized an oar, and pushed the bark off from the
shore.
“I myself will be the steersman, for I know the way,” he said.
And the sails were unfurled to the brisk south wind, and the vessel sped
swiftly toward the sea; and many fair eyes were filled tears as they
watched it until it could be seen no more. And with sighs and gloomy
forebodings the good people went back to their homes, and but few hoped
ever again to see their king and his brave comrades.
Driven by favorable winds, the trusty little vessel sailed gayly down
the Rhine, and, ere many days had passed, was out in the boundless sea.
For a long time the heroes sailed and rowed through Old AEgir’s watery
kingdom. But they kept good cheer, and their hearts rose higher and
higher; for each day they drew nearer the end of their voyage and the
goal of their hopes. At length they came in sight of a far-reaching
coast and a lovely land; and not far from the shore they saw a noble
fortress, with a number of tall towers pointing toward the sky.
“What land is that?” asked the king.[EN#25]
And Siegfried answered that it was Isenland, and that the fortress which
they saw was the Castle of Isenstein and the green marble hall of the
Princess Brunhild. But he warned his friends to be very wary when they
should arrive at the hall.
“Let all tell this story,” said he: “say that Gunther is the king, and
that I am his faithful vassal. The success of our undertaking depends on
this.” And his three comrades promised to do as he advised.
As the vessel neared the shore, the whole castle seemed to be alive.
From every tower and turret-window, from every door and balcony,
lords and ladies, fighting-men and serving-men, looked out to see what
strangers these were who came thus unheralded to Isenland. The heroes
went on shore with their steeds, leaving the vessel moored to the bank;
and then they rode slowly up the beach, and across the narrow plain, and
came to the drawbridge and the great gateway, where they paused.
The matchless Brunhild in her chamber had been told of the coming of the
strangers; and she asked the maidens who stood around,--
“Who, think you, are the unknown warriors who thus come boldly to
Isenstein without asking leave? What is their bearing? Do they seem to
be worthy of our notice? or are they some straggling beggars who have
lost their way?”
And one of the maidens, looking through the casement, answered, “The
first is a king, I know, from his noble mien and the respect which his
fellows pay to him. But the second bears himself with a prouder grace,
and seems the noblest of them all. He reminds me much of the brave young
Siegfried of former days. Indeed, it must be Siegfried; for he rides
a steed with sunbeam mane, which can be none other than Greyfell. The
third is a dark and gloomy man: he wears a sullen frown upon his brow,
and his eyes seem to shoot quick glances around. How nervously he grasps
his sword-hilt, as if ever guarding against surprise! I think his temper
must be grim and fiery, and his heart a heart of flint. The fourth
and last of the company is young and fair, and of gentle port. Little
business has he with rude warriors; and many tears, methinks, would be
shed for him at home should harm overtake him. Never before have I
seen so noble a company of strangers in Isenland. Their garments are
of dazzling lustre; their saddles are covered with gem-stones; their
weapons are of unequalled brightness. Surely they are worthy of your
notice.”
When Brunhild heard that Siegfried was one of the company, she was
highly pleased, and she hastened to make ready to meet them in the great
hall. And she sent ten worthy lords to open the gate, and to welcome the
heroes to Isenland.
When Siegfried and his comrades passed through the great gateway, and
came into the castle-yard, their horses were led away to the stables,
and the clanging armor and the broad shields and swords which they
carried were taken from them, and placed in the castle armory. Little
heed was paid to Hagen’s surly complaint at thus having every means of
defence taken away. He was told that such had always been the rule at
Isenstein, and that he, like others, must submit.
After a short delay the heroes were shown into the great hall, where the
matchless Brunhild already was awaiting them. Clad in richest raiment,
from every fold of which rare jewels gleamed, and wearing a coronet of
pearls and gold, the warrior-maiden sat on a throne of snow-white ivory.
Five hundred earl-folk and warriors, the bravest in Isenland, stood
around her with drawn swords, and fierce, determined looks. Surely men
of mettle less heroic than that of the four knights from Rhineland would
have quaked with fear in such a presence.
King Gunther and his comrades went forward to salute the queen. With
a winning smile she kindly greeted them, and then said to Siegfried,
“Gladly do we welcome you back to our land, friend Siegfried, We have
ever remembered you as our best friend. May we ask what is your will,
and who are these warriors whom you have with you?”
“Most noble queen,” answered he, “right thankful am I that you have
not forgotten me, and that you should deign to notice me while in the
presence of this my liege lord,” and he pointed towards King Gunther.
“The king of all Burgundy-land, whose humble vassal I am, has heard the
challenge you have sent into different lands, and he has come to match
his strength with yours.”
“Does he know the conditions?” asked Brunhild.
“He does,” was the answer. “In case of success, the fairest of women for
his queen: in case of failure, death.”
“Yet scores of worthy men have made trial, and all have failed,” said
she. “I warn your liege lord to pause, and weigh well the chances ere he
runs so great a risk.”