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

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Ebook has 269 lines and 20611 words, and 6 pages

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

Then Wotan laughed bitterly.

"Fight Fricka's battles," said he, "and range thyself with her marriage vows and plighted troths. Siegmund is not the free man my soul longs for. So range thyself with Fricka's champion, the noble Hunding. Even so: death is decreed for Siegmund; be swift and brave to compass that. Thou wilt need all thy boldness, my child, for he is no coward whom Walse taught in the woods, and swift is his sword. Nor wilt thou find a foeman who fears thee; his eye will flinch not, though he beholds thee in all thy strength and terror."

Scarcely then could Brunnhilde believe what she seemed to hear, for she knew that her father loved Siegmund, and that the Wolsung was dear to his soul. Ever had he taught her to love him, for Siegmund was dauntless of heart, and knew not what fear was.

"It cannot be," she cried, "never can I lift my arm against him!"

Then Wotan rose in wrath, for it was as if his will disobeyed him when Brunnhilde was rebel, for indeed the maid was none other than his will.

"Thou darest? Thou darest?" he cried. "And does fear not look in thine eyes at the thought of disobedience? Am I a mock to thee? Indeed there will be for thee an end of mocking if thou rousest my wrath. For there is woe to any with whom Wotan is wrath, for I walk with the thunder at my call, and my hand holds and steers the lightning. Think thou of that, and gave good heed. Thou knowest my will; see that thou performest it. Siegmund is numbered with the dead, and by Brunnhilde's hand shall that numbering be accomplished."

And he stormed forth in fury, the lightning flickering about his path, and left Brunnhilde there.

Never before had he gone from her in anger, and she sat long where he had left her, wondering what this should mean, and what the day should bring forth. Oftentimes in hour of war had she seen him girt about with fury, but now it was she whom his rage threatened. Then she stooped down, and picked up again her spear and helmet and shield which she had laid on the ground when she spake with Wotan, and very slowly, with the joy of war altogether gone from her heart, she armed herself. For indeed her heart was not in this fight, and she went out to it with no joyful war-cry as was her wont. For the battle was against her friend, whom Wotan had ever taught her to love, and the wild Wolsung Siegmund had all her life been dear to her. Yet must Wotan's best be obeyed.

So she turned and would have gone on her joyless errand, when suddenly she was aware that two were approaching up the rocky height; and as they came more nigh she saw they were none other than Siegmund and Sieglinde. Then pity so seized on her that she was but as wax, and, lest her will should fail utterly, she turned again quickly and went to the cavern hard by where she had tethered her horse on the coming of Fricka. Heavily she went to him, for the work before her was bitter and grievous to her.

THE FIGHT OF SIEGMUND

Swiftly came Sieglinde up the rocky path, and Siegmund followed hard after her, bidding her rest and not fare so wildly on; for after that the spell of spring and of love had so wrought within her that she recked nothing of leaving the house and hearth of Hunding, and the transport and sweet madness of her love had been fulfilled, horror and dread had seized the woman's heart, and she was distraught with unspeakable dismay at her wild adventure. Then had she risen up from his side in the middle of the spring night, even while he, filled full of love, was sleeping, to escape from what she had done. But at her stirring he had awoke, and through the hours betwixt that and day had he followed after her, she still flying from him through field and forest. For at first on that evening of yesterday, which in the morning's light seemed to her so long ago, the torrent of her love had carried her unthinking, but now it seemed to her that her deed was altogether unholy. Utterly had she loved the man, and utterly was his love hers, and so great was the might of that and the transport of its power, that in its first outpouring it seemed to her that all else was of no import beside it. But afterwards she had thought on what she had done, and shame and horror burned within her with as fierce a flame. Loveless had her marriage with Hunding been, yet marriage it was, and hallowed by the ordinance of the gods. But this was lawlessness incarnate, and unnatural wedlock. Yet in her woman's heart she blamed Siegmund not at all; the blame in her mind was wholly hers. She had brought shame on herself, but that was a small thing compared to the shame in which she had made him a partaker.

But now for very weariness her limbs could bear her no further, and at the top of the rocky path nigh to where Wotan and Brunnhilde had sat that night, she faltered, and it was his arm that saved her from falling.

"Wait, wait," he whispered. "Speak to me, and let us have done with this dumbness of fear. Thou art safe; my arm encompasseth thee; there is no fear while thou leanest on my breast."

At his touch, again the eternal woman of her nature awoke, and as he led her very gently to the very seat where Wotan had sat with Brunnhilde by his knee, she clung passionately to him, and gazing long into his face, embraced him. Yet even while her lips met his, the horrors of the night rose insurgent within her, and again she flung herself off from him, shame branding her, as a felon is branded.

"Siegmund, Siegmund!" she cried. "What have we done? Shame on me, shame on me!"

"Shame there has been, Sieglinde," said he, "and that when thou didst abide in the house of Hunding. But that shame shall I soon wash away with his blood, and in that crimson stream shall it be cleansed. Ah, fare not on so wildly; wait here, for I am well assured that he will come here in pursuit, and here also shall he meet the fate which has been appointed by him who in my sorest need granted me to find the sword. O sword of my need," cried he, and his fingers tightened on its hilt, "not in vain have I called on the name of vengeance. Surely I will repay."

Then was she a little quieted at his loving touch, and at the fierceness of surety of his hate towards Hunding, but soon she started up and listened.

"Horns, I hear horns!" she cried, "and the shouts of the pursuers. The shouts of the pursuers sound ever nearer, and strike the sky and echo from the hills. Hunding has woke from his night-draught, and is hot of foot on the trail. He calls on his kindred to help him, and loosens the hounds of hunting. They nose thy trail, and thirstily they give voice, and their thirst waits to be assuaged by blood."

Loudly and in panic terror she cried, but at the end her voice failed, and her arm outflung dropped nerveless, and over her weary eyes drooped the shelter of her eyelids.

"Siegmund, where art thou?" she murmured. "Where art thou? I search for thy look; oh, let it light on me again; leave me not, Siegmund, oh, leave me not. Hark, hark! again I hear that deep baying of the hounds of death; they thirst for thy blood, and their fangs white and sharp grow red with the meat of their hunting. They reck not of thy sword, so fling it away. Hide, let us hide where none shall find us. Thy sword is shattered; what toy-thing is this?--thou fallest reeling ... Siegmund ... Siegmund...."

At that her head drooped and she sank like a thing broken in his arms. It was in vain that he tried to rouse her, and only by the rise and fall of her bosom did he know she lived. So very gently--for, after the labour and travel of the night, it might be that she would sleep--he laid her back on the ground, and made for her a pillow of his knee, to rest her head. But she moved not, nor opened her eyes, yet, for her bosom still rose gently and fell, he comforted himself, and bending over her kissed her on the forehead. Thus they sat, and he grieved over her.

But by now had Brunnhilde put bridle again on to her horse Grane, and led him lightly out of the cavern, and came upon Siegmund and his bride sitting thus. And he was aware of her coming, and looked up, and saw her glorious face; but there was no smile there, for the work before her gave no joy to her. Gravely she looked at him, and her heart was stirred with sorrow for the deed that her father had laid on her to do, and her eyes burned large with doom.

"Siegmund, I am here," she said, "and from here soon I lead thee. Thou seest that I am near thee?"

And Siegmund answered: "Yes, but I know thee not," and a strange cold heaviness was lead in his limbs and in his eye.

"I come near to those whom death comes near to," said she, "and none others see me. He into whose eyes I look stays not in the light. With me thou goest, and thou goest with me far."

Then something of the great calm with which death is ever girt about, struck on Siegmund's heart, but he was not afraid.

"And where goest thou?" he asked.

"I go to Walhalla," said she, "where the great father waits thee. There lovingly will the hands of dead heroes greet thee; with hands outstretched and with smile of welcome will they greet thee."

"And shall I find there Walse, the Wolsung's father?" said he in wonder.

"His face too shall greet thee."

"And will there be a woman there too, to greet me?" asked he.

"Yea, surely," said she. "The maidens of his will are there, and she who will hand thee the gladsome wine is Wotan's daughter. Red is that wine, and with it are the hearts of heroes made glad."

But it was not after Wotan's daughter that Siegmund asked, and again he said:

"O most holy and austere of maidens, Wotan's child, truth is written in thine eyes, and truth thou wilt tell me. It is not of such I ask, but of my bride Sieglinde. Will she be there?"

But Brunnhilde shook her head.

"Death comes not for her yet," she said, "and she shall not be there."

Then Siegmund laughed.

"Then get thee back to Walhalla," cried he, "and give my greeting to the high walls of Wotan, and to him who sits therein and is lord thereof. And greet for me Walse"--for he knew not that Walse his father was none other than Wotan--"and greet the many heroes and the maidens of the will of the highest. But I come not after thee."

Then Brunnhilde was very sorry, yet what was to be, was to be.

"Siegmund," she said, "thou hast looked on me, and with me thou must go. Lightly thou reckest of mortal foes, for thy limbs are strong, but the wise man wars not against death. I am here to claim thee for him."

But though a chill seemed to fall round Siegmund, as if the sun had passed behind a cloud, yet was he not afraid; and, lo! his dear burden still leaned at his knee.

"I come not," he said, "for where Sieglinde is, in weal or woe, there I abide, and go not thence. Thy face daunts me not, I shrink not before thy glance, though bright it is with the brightness of danger. Besides, who is it that deals death to me?"

"The hand of Hunding," she said. "For thus--at last--the lot was cast."

But Siegmund only smiled, and his fingers dwelt lovingly on the sword-hilt.

"I fear not that," he said, "for it is by my hand that he will fall, and if thou seekest a dead man, I will give thee a corpse, but not mine. Look at my sword, for he who let me gain it, promised my safety. Thus thy threats and thy warning are idle words, the buzzing of a fly."

Then Brunnhilde's face grew stern and set.

"He who let thee gain the sword," she cried in a loud voice, "now is determined otherwise, and has decreed thy death. Thus the magic of the sword is a thing of nought, a shadow that has passed away."

But at her raised voice, Siegmund forgot death and the sword and all else, and feared only that she would wake Sieglinde, who now slept gently.

"Be still, be still," he whispered, "and wake her not."

And he bent over her, and sorrowed for her, for it seemed to him that all the world was gathered against her whom he loved so well, and that he alone, for whom she had braved the wrath of men and gods, was on her side. Should then he forsake her? And if, as the maid had told him, the giver of the sword was now unfaithful, and decreed him death, then he would have none of his Walhalla; Hella were sweeter to his troubled soul. High burned his anger at this unfaithfulness, and he turned to the maid who stood watching him.

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