Part II The War-Maidens
The new home of the gods proved to be as beautiful within as it had appeared without. When they had all crossed the arching rainbow-bridge, loud shouts of joy and admiration arose; for it was the most splendid palace that gods or mortals could ever imagine. Long porticos and galleries with huge sculptured pillars ran in every direction, leading to cool fruit arbours, or open courts where silvery fountains splashed. Great rooms opened up with ceilings so high that they seemed to take in the sky itself. The spacious floors were paved with burnished gold, and the walls set with polished stone and fine jewels, so that they blazed with light as bright as the noonday.
On every side of the palace were smooth greenswards, and groves of stately trees. And in the midst of the largest grove of all grew the wonderful tree bearing apples of gold, from which Freia fed all the divine family to make them immortal.
For a long time the gods and goddesses lived in Walhalla quite happily. Each morning they found some new beauty to admire. Each evening they came together for a feast or entertainment.
But in one heart there was no happiness, and that was the heart of the mighty Wotan himself. His beautiful home, the dream of his life, was finished. But at what a cost! The curse of the Rhine-Gold would come upon them, unless the stolen treasure were returned to its rightful guardians. The gods themselves would be destroyed, if they kept not their honour.
So Wotan sat apart from the rest, and his brow grew dark with forebodings. Fricka, his wife, gently chided him for his gloom but to no avail, and even the beautiful Freia could no longer make him smile. When any of the other gods praised the beauty of the palace, he would nod his head and answer; “Its price was great.”
Finally Wotan could endure his anxiety no longer. Knowing that unless some way were found to restore the Gold they would be in constant peril, he resolved to consult Erda, the earth-spirit. So, one day he took his Spear of Authority and went forth into the world to find a way out of the trouble which had come to him with Walhalla.
The weeks grew into months and the months into years, while Wotan was gone. The other gods sought him in vain, but could hear no tidings. They wondered what had become of him, and the feasting and revelry gave way to sad forebodings. Only Fricka, the queen, went about with some measure of confidence.
“Be not sad,” she said. “Wotan will return soon, bringing with him some great means of safety and content.”
Fricka spoke true. One fair day at early dawn the gods were awakened by the sound of war-like singing. It was entirely different from their own music, and it seemed borne to them on the wings of the wind. Nearer and nearer came the song, swelling into a splendid strain of triumph. Then flying figures were descried, and the watchers at the window saw Wotan returning to them as it were through the clouds. He was in the midst of a company of maidens, whose faces were fair but who were strong and soldier-like. Each rode upon a powerful horse, and, wonder of wonders, the horses had wings like eagles and flew swiftly through the air!
There were nine of these horses and riders in all, and so fast did they ride that they had reached the palace gates, dismounted, and were being led within by Wotan almost before the first strains of music had died away.
You may believe that all the gods and goddesses were exceedingly glad when they saw Wotan again; and they hastened out upon the battlements to greet him and give him love and honour. To one and all he replied full pleasantly. His brow was clearer than it had been in many a day; and it was with the sprightliness of youth that he led the nine fair warriors up the broad palace steps. Then turning he addressed his court.
“These are the War Maidens,” he said, “who come to guard our kingdom from its enemies. It is their mission to ride up and down in all the world, to choose the bravest heroes who have fallen in battle, and to bring them to Walhalla. With all these heroes we shall be protected from peril in the evil days to come.”
Then Wotan introduced each War Maiden by name, beginning with Brunhilde who was the strongest and the loveliest. And they were welcomed royally to the palace by all who lived therein. The golden apples of life were given them to eat, and they became immortal.
Day by day the War Maidens rode forth into battle, seeking for the bravest men. Whenever they found one who had fallen in the forefront of conflict, they carried him to Walhalla where he became immortal. There was much fighting in the world in those days, so the palace soon received many mighty soldiers, and Wotan grew light of heart. For now, he thought, he could defy the dwarf’s curse and all the powers of the underworld. So he trained his soldiers constantly, and had them continually in battle, one against another. And if one by chance received a wound it healed of itself through magic power.
Still the loss of the Gold and of the Ring was an ever-present danger. Wotan knew this, and cast about for some means to restore the treasure to the Rhine-Daughters so that the peril might be removed.
Now Fafner the giant had taken the Gold to a cave in the midst of a dense forest. By the aid of the magic helmet he had changed himself into a fierce dragon, and in this shape he guarded the mouth of the cave night and day. So you see that he wasn’t getting very much pleasure out of his hoard.
Being a god, Wotan of course knew where Fafner the dragon lay hid. But neither he nor any of the gods could attack Fafner or lay hands upon the treasure. It had been given the giant in open barter and so was beyond their recall. But Wotan reasoned that if some earth-born hero could be found brave enough to slay the dragon, the Gold could be secured. Failing this, the dwarf Alberich might in the end be crafty enough to regain it and wreak his vengeance upon the gods.
The peril was still great therefore, in spite of the warriors in Walhalla. Wotan realised all this and resolved to journey again through the world in quest of a hero to attack the dragon. For many days he searched without success. Then he chose a son of his own for the great task, living with him as a simple forester while the boy grew up, and training him to warlike deeds. The boy’s name was Siegmund, and as he reached young manhood he was straight as a young pine-tree in the forest and strong as the oak which defies the winds of heaven.
While Siegmund was still a youth a great sorrow befell him. Sieglinde a young girl of his own age with whom he had grown up, and whom he looked upon as a sister, was seized by a fierce hunter and carried away to his home in the forest. For many months Siegmund sought to rescue her, but without success. He grew to manhood with this object before him, and vowed eternal warfare against the hunter and all his clan,—a vow Wotan aided him to keep, until the very name of Siegmund became a terror to the hunter.
Then another sudden grief befell the young warrior. Wotan mysteriously went away one day, leaving no trace and no message save that when Siegmund should be in direst need he would find a trusty sword at hand to aid him. Siegmund now felt forsaken indeed; and he roamed about aimlessly in the forests, hunting the wild beasts, helping people in distress, or fighting against the hunter’s tribe.
One night, utterly spent from his wanderings, he sought shelter in a house built in a peculiar manner round the trunk of a great oak-tree. Seeing no one within the main room he entered, closed the door behind him, and lay down exhausted in front of the fire, where he soon fell fast asleep.
Presently a maiden came into the room. She expected to find the hunter there, for this was none other than his house, although Siegmund did not know it. When instead of the master of the house the maiden saw the stranger lying upon the hearth, she sprang back in sudden fear. But the poor man did not move, so she came gently to his side, to see whether he were alive or dead. Siegmund stirred uneasily in his sleep, then, wakening, tried to utter a few words, but his parched lips gave forth little sound. Seeing his pitiable state, the maiden hastened to give him a drink. It revived him somewhat, and he sat up and gazed around. The maiden gave him more of the cup and gently asked him whence he came. He answered and began telling her of his wanderings without revealing his name. Just then the hunter himself arrived; but neither he nor Siegmund recognised the other as his sworn enemy; and the hunter noting the young man’s distressed condition bade him welcome for the night and invited him to the table to share his food. Siegmund accepted the invitation joyfully, and soon found his strength returning to him in the meat and drink.
In answer to his host’s questions, he told the story of his past adventures; and the hunter found, for the first time, that his guest was the foe whom he had long been seeking to slay.
“Ha! I know you now!” he exclaimed, springing to his feet. “It is you who have done so much harm to me and mine! I would make you answer for your deeds here and now, were it not for the sacred laws of hospitality. But to-morrow I shall meet you! At sunrise be ready to fight and give me full satisfaction!”
Siegmund was astonished in his turn, but could not refuse the challenge. The hunter left him with these words, bidding the maiden also go into another room.
Left to himself the young man fell again into heaviness of spirit. It seemed to him that sorrow and trouble had followed him all the days of his life. He mused over his present defenceless condition—alone, unarmed and under his enemy’s very roof. Then he recalled his father’s promise, that a sword would be ready at his hand when his need was direst. Somehow the thought of this promise brought comfort to him, and he fell into a quiet slumber.
After a time, during the stillness of night, a door opened softly and the maiden came toward him.
“Up!” she said, gently rousing him. “Up and flee for your life! The hunter has been planning mischief against you, but I gave him a sleeping draught.”
“Why should I flee?” said Siegmund. “Give me but a sword and I turn my back upon no man! But who are you, fair lady, who do this kindness to a stranger? Methinks I have seen your face in earlier days than this.”
“And I also seem to remember you,” she answered, gazing at him earnestly. “My story is not a long one, but it is sad. When I was a little girl, this cruel hunter carried me away from home, and he has compelled me to live with him ever since. But one day during a feast a strange-looking man with only one eye came in, bearing a mighty sword. He drove the sword to the hilt in the trunk of yonder tree, with one sweep of his arm, declaring that it was for only one man—the man who should be able to pull it forth again. Many stout men that day and since have tried to claim the sword, but there it sticks, there you may see the firelight strike the handle. Perchance, poor stranger, it was left for you!”
“Ah, now I know my father’s words were true!” Siegmund cried, joyously. “See! the sword is mine!”
And laying hold of the handle he drew the shining blade as easily as though the tree had been its scabbard.
“And thou, also, I know, my heart’s best! Thou art Sieglinde, for whom I have sought all these years. Dost thou not remember thine old playmate Siegmund?”
She gazed at him first with startled look; then a tender light of memory and love dawned in her eyes. Siegmund stretched out his arms to her and the two were reunited in a fond embrace.
“Come!” said Siegmund; “now will I flee, and thou must go with me. My father’s sword shall shield us both, and never again while I live shall this robber have thee in his clutches.”
The moon was shining brightly on this warm night in early spring. The wide world seemed to beckon her two children forth; and answering her summons and the glad call of their own hearts they fled away.
King Wotan knew of all these things. He knew that his dearly loved son Siegmund had found the magic sword, and had fled from the hunter’s home. He foresaw also that the hunter would rise up full of wrath the next day, and pursue Siegmund to kill him. This must be prevented. The god summoned Brunhilde before him.
“Wisest and fairest of War Maidens,” he said, “in yonder mountain gorge thou wilt discover a young man and a maiden who are dear to me. The maiden has been stolen away from a hunter who held her against her will, and the hunter now pursues the young man with intent to slay him. It is my will that he be not slain, but that he gain the victory over the hunter. See thou to it!”
Brunhilde gladly listened to Wotan’s behest.
“It shall be done as thou desirest!” she exclaimed. “Hoyo-to-ho!”—the musical shout of the War Maidens came from her lips as she sprang from cliff to cliff and disappeared.
But she had hardly gone before Fricka, Wotan’s queen, entered in a chariot drawn by two rams. Now Fricka was goddess of love and justice, and it grieved her that Siegmund should be allowed to take Sieglinde away with him as he had done.
“Justice, O Wotan!” she cried, “against the young man Siegmund! The hunter from whose house he fled away, carrying the maiden Sieglinde, has called to me for help, and I have promised to aid him.”
“The hunter held the maid against her will,” replied Wotan.
“Nathless his right to her had become recognised among men. So she must be restored to him, else men will say that there is no justice in the world.”
Wotan’s brow was wrinkled moodily. He knew that Sieglinde had dwelt so many years under the hunter’s roof that all men believed she rightfully belonged there. Yet in his heart he longed to protect his son.
Fricka saw the struggle but would not relent. She added many words to what she had said and urged her case so strongly that every law the gods had made seemed enlisted in the hunter’s cause. At last Wotan, heavy in spirit, agreed to give the victory to him.
After Fricka had departed, he called Brunhilde again to him and told her of his last decision. Brunhilde was full of grief when she learned that she must aid the hunter against Siegmund.
“Why dost thou do this, O father?” she asked gently.
“Because the laws of the gods demand it,” he answered.
Then the sorrow-stricken Wotan unburdened his heart to her and told her of the Rhine-Gold; of the Ring that had been fashioned from it; of the curse that had followed; and of many other things which we have set forth in this book.
“The curse of the Ring is the fate of Siegmund,” he concluded. “That is why I am powerless to protect him. See that thou dost obey my latest command!”
So saying he departed, amid the rumblings of a thunder-cloud, leaving Brunhilde full of sorrow at the strange tale she had heard and the sad errand she must perform.
But she turned her steps dutifully down the mountain gorge, and there in a sheltering cave she found the young man and maiden. Sieglinde had become tired out from their wanderings, and Siegmund had borne her into the cave and was supporting her head upon his knee, while smoothing back the stray locks of gold from her lovely forehead. So intent was he upon this devotion that he did not see Brunhilde when she came into the entrance.
If the War Maiden had longed to befriend these two before she saw them, how much more did her heart soften when she beheld this sweet picture! But her duty must be done. She called softly to Siegmund and he raised his head.
“I am the War Maiden,” she said, “and am sent to warn thee of thy fate. Thine enemy follows hard upon thy heels; and none who look upon my face survive a battle.”
“I fear not for the battle,” answered Siegmund stoutly. “This magic sword was left me by my father, and with it I must surely be victorious!”
“It will avail thee not; for the gods have decreed that thou must die. But glory awaits thee in Walhalla, whither I am summoned to bear thee after death.”
“What is Walhalla?” he asked.
“It is the Hall of Heroes, among whom thou wilt be first.”
“Will I find my father there, and my sweet comrade Sieglinde?”
The search for these two had consumed the youthful warrior’s whole life, so his voice trembled eagerly as he asked this question.
Brunhilde smiled, then shook her head sadly.
“Thy father?—Yes, in Walhalla shalt thou find him. But Sieglinde cannot come to thee there.”
“Then take my greetings to Walhalla!” he exclaimed.
“Greet for me Wotan!
Hail to my father
And all the heroes!
Hail the War Maidens;
For now I follow not thee!”
By this time Brunhilde’s heart had become so touched that she boldly resolved to disobey Wotan’s last command, and do as he really desired. Smiling upon Siegmund, she bade him be of good heart, as she had only been testing his courage. Then she told him she would be with him and aid him in the coming strife.
Even while she spoke the hunter’s horn was heard, and soon the man himself came hastening fiercely along. He did not see Siegmund at first, for a heavy storm had come up, while the heavens seemed rent with terrific crashes of thunder. The din finally aroused the sleeping Sieglinde, and she gazed around wildly. Siegmund had sprung out of the cave to confront his enemy; and there in front of the cave he stood revealed by a flash of lightning battling strongly with the hunter. Sieglinde uttered a cry of grief and was about to rush between them when another sudden blaze of light made her draw back. At one side she beheld the War Maiden standing ready to protect Siegmund. The young man pressed upon the hunter and was about to strike him to the earth with his trusty sword, when a glowing red flame burst through the clouds. Wotan himself appeared with his dread Spear and stretched it across the sword. The magic blade broke in sunder, and Siegmund fell dead, pierced by the hunter’s weapon. But the hunter himself did not survive the conflict, for a glance from the single blazing eye of the angry god stretched him lifeless on the sward.
When Wotan appeared, Brunhilde started back amazed and fearful. She began to realise what it meant to disobey the god’s command. Hastily seizing the fainting form of Sieglinde she sprang upon her winged steed and fled swiftly from the tragic scene. Far and fast through the storm she sped, glancing around fearfully ever and anon, and fancying each rumble of the thunder was Wotan’s voice. Then she turned her horse’s head toward the summit of a lofty crag. It was the usual meeting-place of all the War Maidens on their way to Walhalla. Soon the crag came in sight, and there awaiting her were her eight companions, hailing her swift approach with “Hoyo-to-ho!” their battle cry.
Hardly taking time to answer their joyous greetings, Brunhilde placed Sieglinde gently on the ground and cried,
“Save us, O my sister! Save us from the wrath of Wotan!”
“Why, what crime hast thou committed?” cried the other War Maidens in alarm.
“I have disobeyed the god’s command, and even now he rides hard after me upon the wings of the tempest! Save this innocent mortal, at least! She has done no wrong.”
“I do not wish for life!” exclaimed Sieglinde, who had just recovered consciousness. “Why should I live when Siegmund is dead? I pray you draw your sword and slay me!”
“Not so,” said Brunhilde soothingly. “The Fates decree that thou must live. And see, I have saved for thee the Sword of Need which was broken in Siegmund’s hands. Keep it for his son, the hero who shall know no fear, and he shall do mighty deeds with its mended blade.”
So saying Brunhilde drew from the folds of her cloak the two pieces of the broken sword and gave them to Sieglinde and whispered in her ear words of tenderness and balm. And Sieglinde’s face lost its hopeless look, and she promised to go wherever the War Maiden might direct.
“Haste thee, then!” urged Brunhilde. “The time is short. In only one place wilt thou be safe from Wotan, and that is the depth of yonder forest. There dwells Fafner the dragon, and there Wotan never ventures because of the curse of the Ring.”
The tempest had increased in fury while Brunhilde was speaking. The dense darkness shielded Sieglinde while she hurried away. She was scarce gone, hugging the precious sword, when a terrific clap of thunder shook the whole cliff and Wotan appeared in a flash of light.
“Brunhilde! Brunhilde!” he called.
Brunhilde did not answer; and the other War Maidens, braving his anger through loyalty and love for their sister, hid her in their midst.
“Brunhilde!” again thundered Wotan, “stand forth! Art afraid to hear thy doom?”
“Not so, O mighty father!” replied Brunhilde; and she stepped forward proudly and knelt at his feet.
“Ah, Brunhilde! how couldst thou disobey my command?” asked Wotan more in sadness than in anger. “Thou hast brought thy fate upon thyself.”
“I but tried to save one who was dear to thee,” she answered.
“But thou didst violate my will, and henceforth can be a War Maiden no more. Thou must descend to earth, lose thy immortality, and live the life of any other woman.”
On hearing this terrible decree, by which she lost the rank of goddess, Brunhilde sank upon the ground with a piteous cry.
“Have mercy, O Wotan!” she pleaded. “I tried to meet the wishes of thy heart, as given in thy first command. Do not banish me for ever from my dear sisters and thy beloved presence. Have mercy!”
“Have mercy!” cried her sisters stretching out their hands toward the god.
“Silence!” said Wotan solemnly. “I have spoken, and it must be done. Ah, dearly loved maiden, how gladly would I save thee if it were so decreed! But thou must sink to the ground in deep sleep. And it shall come to pass that in after years the man who shall awaken thee shall claim thee for his bride.”
“As for ye other maidens,” he continued, glancing around with a flash of the eye, “beware how ye fail to keep faith with me again! And come not again into my presence this day.”
The War Maidens fled in woe and terror at this speech, leaving Brunhilde and Wotan alone upon the rock. The sky was clearing, the wind was dying away, and the moon came forth and looked down upon the scene. There was silence for many long moments, until Brunhilde, unable to endure it, rose slowly to her feet in all her beauty and pride, yet with wild entreaty in her voice.
“Oh, father, father!” she pleaded, “save me from this fate, for the honour of all the gods! Do not place me within reach of any coward among men, who might chance to awaken me. If I must fall asleep to wake a mortal woman, grant me this last request. Place me in some spot so hedged about with danger that none but the bravest of all men may find me and claim me for his own!”
Wotan gazed at her—all the old love and pride for her shining in his eyes. He gently drew her to him and kissed her upon the eyelids.
“It shall be as thou dost wish,” he said. “I shall shield thee with a barrier of living fire so that none save a true hero can rescue thee. And now farewell, my darling child! How I shall miss thee in Walhalla, and on our rides of glory, thou dost little know. Farewell! farewell!”
Brunhilde clasped her arms about his neck and smiled for the last time in his face. He bent down and kissed her again, and yet again. A deep sleep came over her and she sank slowly down. Wotan carried her tenderly to a low mound of moss upon the very crest of the towering rock, and there he placed his shield over her to protect her from all harm. Again he gazed long and mournfully on her features, then closed the visor of the helmet she wore, and turning began a mystic waving of his Spear of Authority. He ended by summoning Loki, god of fire.
“Loki, hark,
Hitherward haste,
As I found thee first,
In a fiery waste;
As once thou didst fly
In fiery display;
As then I did call thee
I call thee to-day!
Arise with thy flaming—
Encircle this place,
To daunt the craven
Whom my spear could not face!
Loki! Loki! arise!”
At the last call he struck the rock thrice with his Spear, and instantly a stream of fire gushed forth and licked upward in tongues of flame from every side. Higher and wider they spread, leaping and crackling till they formed a complete circle round the mossy bed where Brunhilde lay sleeping. And as they swept upward in the night air they seemed to blend in strains of music sweet as the thrumming of a harp and soft as the lullaby of a mother crooning her child to sleep.