Read Ebook: The Valkyries by Benson E F Edward Frederic Wagner Richard Noyes Lewis T Illustrator

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 269 lines and 20611 words, and 6 pages

is there." Aloud he said--

"O Fricka, it is spring-time!" and almost a tear of tenderness for the frail race of men he so loved started to his eye.

But Fricka answered him in anger. "The marriage vow has been broken," she cried, "and though that is not all, yet that is enough. Hunding's house is dishonoured, honoured, and I hate those who have dishonoured it."

"And did love hallow that marriage vow?" cried Wotan. "Was not Sieglinde carried by force to her marriage feast? Love's hand signed not the bond, and where love is not, there the most solemn vow turns impious. But a stranger came, and love stirred at last for him and her. And where love stirs, there is true marriage, and those stirrings of love I abet, I approve."

"Be it so," said Fricka; "let us say that the loveless wedlock is unholy, that it is best honoured when broken. But that is not all, and thou knowest it. For is it holy that two twins should seek each other thus? Ah! Wotan, my head reels and my senses are bewildered when I think of that. Brother and sister? When has it happened that a man should marry his neighbour in his mother's womb? When has that happened?"

But Wotan looked at her gently.

"It has happened now," he said. "Wife, is there nought left for us to learn? Thou knowest, thou knowest well that between the two there burns the authentic fire of love. It has happened. Siegmund and Sieglinde have so loved. Therefore, as I do, bless their union and blame it not. It is spring-time too."

Then was Fricka's wrath so kindled that it seemed as if she had been calm before and was now angry for the first time, and with storm she descended on him.

"Then is our godhead perished!" she cried, "since thou didst beget thy godless Wolsungs. Do you think that I shall follow thee on such a road? For the stones of it are shame, and shameful is the foot that treads thereon. Hunding's cry goes up unanswered, and all that was holy thou tramplest on. All this because the twins that thou begottest, in unfaithfulness to me thy wife, have dared to do this impious deed. Vows! what are vows to thee? Thou boldest none sacred. I have ever been true to thee, and ever thou hast betrayed my truth. There is no mountain top that has not seen, no vale that has not concealed some pleasure of thine, pleasure that scorned and dishonoured my faithfulness. When thou wentest to Erda, and begottest the brood of Valkyries, Brunnhilde the first, I bore it, for Erda was ever noble, and such adventure was not altogether base. But now like a common man thou goest on thy foul adventures, haunting the forest till men call thee the Wolf, or passing under the name of Walse. There is no plumb-line to measure the depths of thy shame, so deep is that abyss. These hast thou begotten of a mere woman, a she-wolf, these twins. And now thou flingest me at the feet of thy she-wolfs litter. Ah, mete out the full measure of my shame. Thou hast betrayed me, and now thou stampest me beneath thy feet and the feet of thy children of shame."

Wotan answered her not at once, for indeed there is no use in answering an angry woman, and he knew well that there were certain things that Fricka would never know. For her mind moved not from that little circle in which it was wont to go round, and all that had not happened, but which was still among the unfound things of the world, was outside her understanding. But Wotan knew that all heaven and earth was waiting for a hero who should come, who should make the old things new, and repair that which was outworn. He should be one who was utterly free, not sheltered or befriended by the gods, and not serving their laws. Nor might the gods help in this work, for their work was of an earlier day, and he who should come must pass beyond them both in thought and deed. Yet as Fricka still said nothing, but stood with heaving bosom, he spoke of him who should come whom he knew, though darkly, should be of the wild Wolsungs. Yet he knew also she would understand not. Nor did she understand, but answered him according to her own sightlessness, saying that since all that was done on earth was the work of men, whose life lay in the hands of the gods, what was there a man could do which was forbidden to the gods?

"For who," cried she, "put might into men except thou, or who but thou put courage into their hearts, and strength into their arms? Thou only. Yet now thou sayest that one will come of thy Wolsung breed who is outside and beyond. Dost then think to trick me thus? Surely I know that he, like all other men, must be subservient to thy will. It is to shield thy shameful twins that thou sayest this. It is by thy will alone he walks."

Then Fricka, for in her woman's way she was cunning, saw her path.

"Then shield him no further," she said quietly, "and take back thy sword, the sword that thou hast given him."

"How can I?" said he. "For Siegmund won it for himself in his need, and Siegmund's it is."

"But from thee," said she, "came not only the sword, but the need. In those days, when thou didst fling the sword at the ash-stem, I followed hard on thee, and saw thy deed, Who flung it there? Thou, Wotan. Who led Siegmund's hand to the hilt? Who but thou? Thou knewest where the sword was; in the presence of Sieglinde thou didst place it there. From thee, through her, the knowledge of it came to him. How canst thou say then that this Siegmund of thine is the hero that should come, since it is through thee he works?"

Then was Wotan both wroth and sorry, for he knew that Fricka spoke truth, yet he would have shielded Siegmund from her wrath. And she, seeing that she shook his will, spoke freely and calmly.

"Lo, the master does not war with slaves," she said, "nor fight for them. But thou and I, Wotan, are gods and equal. And I, whose soul and body are yet at thy bidding, wilt thou shame me and the vows I uphold before a mere man? Shall I be a laughter to the scornful, and shall men make merry over my down-fall in their homes? Thou wilt not have it so; I know thou wilt not. My godhead is more to thee than that."

"What wilt thou then?" said he.

"That thou stand aside from the Wolsung."

Then Wotan was sore distressed and very heavy at heart "Let him go," said he, and his voice was low and troubled; "I will not stay him, nor shalt thou."

"Then shield him not nor shelter him," said she, "when vengeance follows on him."

Then did Wotan remember that he had bidden Brunnhilde to aid him, and it was ill to fight against Brunnhilde. Thus perhaps might Siegmund be safe. So he swore to Fricka that he would not shield nor shelter him. Yet Fricka was not yet satisfied.

"Look in my face, Wotan," she said. "Thou sayest thou wilt not shield him, neither shall thine shield him. No aid must he obtain from thy Valkyrie maidens."

"The Valkyries go where they will," said he, "and I have no power over them."

"So that was thy thought!" said Fricka. "It shall not be so. Thy will directs them; let it direct them that they turn not to Siegmund."

Then Wotan clenched his hands together, for this way and that was he torn. On the one side stood Siegmund his son, whom he must needs aid for the sake of the promise he had given with the sword; on the other, Fricka his wife. And in his agony he cried aloud--

"How can I slay him? It was he who found my sword."

Even as she spoke Wotan heard again the joyful war-cry of Brunnhilde, who, supposing that his strife with Fricka was over, was coming nigh to where they stood, and he remembered in his heart how so short time ago he had bade her warn and shelter Siegmund. Yet he could in nought gainsay his wife, and in sorrow find heaviness he cast himself down on the rocky seat where he had sat with his maiden. And his voice came hollow and broken, like an echo buffeted against rocks.

"I give thee mine oath!" said he.

Then having the oath of Wotan which he might not break, Fricka turned at once from him, for she had accomplished her purpose, and went where she had left her chariot drawn by rams. Near by was Brunnhilde standing with her horse, and as she passed her--

"Thy father waits for thee," she said. "Go thee and learn from him that which he has chosen." Then mounting her chariot, she lashed the rams with her golden whip, and they sped down the mountain-side.

SIEGMUND'S LOT IS CAST

But Brunnhilde had heard Fricka laugh as she mounted her chariot, the which boded no good thing to her father Wotan; and as she approached him she saw that he leaned his head on his hand in great heaviness, and was as one utterly cast down.

"Father, father, what is it?" she said. "What sorrow holds thee? Never have I seen thee so."

Then Wotan's arm dropped, and his head sank on his bosom. "I am bound by the fetters I have forged," said he. "All are free but I, the lord of all. O shame, O bitter ill-hap, and worm that dies not. There is no sorrow so heavy as mine!"

Then did Brunnhilde drop her spear and helmet in sudden alarm and forgetfulness, and in the hope to soothe and comfort him, for never had she seen him so. She laid loving hands upon his knees, and sat herself at his feet, and asked him tenderly to tell her what had befallen, for his look frightened and amazed her. So she besought him to tell her all, for she was ever true to him, and ever had he trusted her. Then by slow degrees Wotan aroused himself, and laid a hand on her bright hair, which he caressed lovingly. But when he spoke his voice seemed to come from afar, for his mind had been brooding on that which had been long ago, and on that which time to come should bring out of what had been, for out of the womb of the past is born what shall be. And dim and dark was his voice, even as that on which he thought had been dim and dark, and he spoke slowly and with many pauses, of days long dead, and of days yet far off, the heirs of ages not yet born. But through-out he looked earnestly into Brunnhilde's eyes, for she was his most own, and when he looked there, he saw himself and his own will and purpose.

"In days of old," said he, "when the first heat of youth was passed, I set myself to win the world, and all craft in bargains was mine, and, so that I worked my will, I stooped to any falsehood. Yet never for long could I withhold myself from love, and its sweetness ever allured my senses and my might. But Alberich, that son of night, who inhabits the dark places of the earth, had forsworn all love, and since he never yielded to it, but cursed it, he won for himself the secret treasure of the gold which abode in mid-Rhine, and by its might, for it is the world's wealth, reached his hands about the world. Yet by guile I got it from him, and with it I paid the giants who built me the walls of Walhalla that are a rein and a bridle to the world. Then once again was I safe. Yet Erda gave me words of warning about the ring, and told me that Walhalla itself would fall, yet could tell me nought fully, till with the spell of love upon her she spake. Yet that selfsame spell of love between her and me gave me thyself, Brunnhilde, and thy eight sisters of the storm. With you I thought to make Walhalla safe, and I bade you slay and bring to be its guardians and the protection of its walls heroes and men of might, who should guard it well. Eternal life I breathed into them, and a mighty host uprose."

Then Brunnhilde smiled at him.

"And have we not done thy bidding?" she asked. "What cause for sadness is here? For the defenders of Walhalla are many in multitude: all these we have brought thee, as thou didst bid us."

Then spake Wotan again, his eyes dwelling ever on Brunnhilde.

"Moved by that spell of love, Erda told me where fear was. It is from Alberich the end will come to the gods, their evening, their dusk, if once again he gets the ring. While he has it not, I fear not him nor the hosts of night that he brings with him, for well Walhalla is guarded by heroes. But in pay for the building of Walhalla I gave it to the giant Fafner, who guards it ever and since I gave it him, I may not take it from him, for the bargain I made with him forbids me. Nor must he who shall take it from him owe ought to me; he must be a free man, who for his own need, and without help from me, shall wrest it from Fafner. Ah, where to find him? How direct his course, yet without aiding or protecting him? His might unaided must accomplish my wish. Wherever I work, there see I the fruits of my work, that which my hands have made. But he who shall take the treasure from Fafner must be free, unfettered, no slave or creation of mine."

Then Brunnhilde started up, for she saw what was in Wotan's mind.

"It is he then, Siegmund the Wolsung, who shall do this thing!" she cried. "Ever has he been unblessed and unhallowed of the gods."

But Wotan shook his head.

"So thought I," said he, "and with that thought in my heart, I reared him ever to work against the gods, so that he owed nought to us. Nothing has he but the sword he himself found. Yet, that was mine. It was I who gave him both sword and the need by which he found it. Scornfully Fricka unfolded that to me, piercing my soul to its uttermost. And thus I must serve her will."

Then wild amaze seized hold on Brunnhilde.

"Then dost thou forsake Siegmund?" she cried.

At that a wild tumult of rage and despair seized on the god, for the words of Erda, which she had told him, grew clear to him.

"The curse is fallen on me," he cried; "and though I flee from it, it still follows me. For when I stole the ring of the Rhine-gold from Alberich, he said that what I loved I must needs forsake, and that him whom I trusted I must do to death. Even so it is. Behold the dusk deepens round me, and I hope for one thing only, the end. And on the end thinks Alberich, for the wild words of Erda, which never till now did I fathom, grow clear to me. For she said that when the dark enemy of love begets a son, then too is begotten the fall of the gods. And this too has happened, for Alberich has lovelessly bought a woman's undoing, and already the weeks of her deliverance are numbered, and the child waxes in her womb. Yet I for all my wooing could never beget that which I need, that free man of whom I spake. Oh! my bitterest blessing on thy work, Alberich; already I grow wan with the approaching end; already my godhead is but a tawdry mask. Bare thy fangs then: let thy hate and thy hunger make meat of me!"

The words died on his lips, and despair like a wave overwhelmed him. Then Brunnhilde nestled yet nearer to him, and the child-instinct within her spake, if so be she might comfort him.

"Father, father," she said, "what can thy child do?"

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet