The Valkyries

And at his word the winds of heaven and all the hurricanes of the air rushed to his bidding, and seated in his chariot of storms he drove on Brunnhilde's trail.

CHAPTER VIII
THE FLIGHT OF BRUNNHILDE

Now on that day on which Brunnhilde disobeyed the behest of Wotan, and instead of slaying Siegmund, and bringing his soul to Walhalla where he would abide with the other heroes, shielded him, yet to little purpose, the glorious company of the Valkyries, who were eight in number, and all her sisters, being likewise the daughters of Wotan and born of Erda, were out to battle and fight with the heroes of the sons of men, whom they bore to Walhalla, there to defend its lofty walls and sit at wine with their fellows. All that day had they ridden on their quests, and when it was towards evening they began to gather, as they had appointed, on the top of a certain rocky height, there to number their spoils, and go all together, a wild and joyous company, to the halls of Walhalla, there to gladden the heart of their father Wotan with what they had done.

High and open to the winds of heaven was their trysting-place, a region of bleak mountain land, a very crown of the world. Steeply rose its barren cliffs on all sides but one, and here a pine wood clung to the hillside, in the shade and shelter of which they might tether their horses, as they waited for the gathering of their sisters. Great storms had raged all day, and as evening came on their violence was in no whit abated, but seemed to grow ever fiercer. But little did the Valkyries heed such menaces, for their joy was in storm, and they drank deep from whirlwinds as a thirsty man will drink of a bowl of wine, and feel his strength come back to him; and the swifter the blasts screamed over the terror-stricken earth, the swifter did the Valkyries ride on their errands, and the louder and more joyous sounded their fierce, glad battle-cries of death. High and untamed of heart were they, and maidens all of them, for of men they had no thought, save only that men were the game and quarry of their hunting, and they loved a strong man's strength only because thus the fighting was the fiercer, and the nobler and braver was the foeman whose soul they should carry to Walhalla, there to have life eternal breathed into it by Wotan. But of the fierceness of love they knew nought, nor cared to know: danger and death had brighter eyes for them than a lover.

All day had their trysting-place stood empty and buffeted by the winds and rains, for far distant were the quests on which the sisters had gone, and wild and shrill was the music of the storm. Now with a scream the wind would awake and yell among the rocks, and the beating of the rain was like the sound of the drums that call to war. Then the shrillness of the storm would abate, and for a while it would moan with low and flute-like notes among the stems of the pine-trees, and whisper among their nodding tops, as if with a false promise of peace. Then in fresh anger, as of hounds a-yelp, it would break out again, and with shrill trumpetings scream among the sharp edges of the rocks, or vibrate like to a twanged string round the stumps of trees and weep like some lost soul among the thick-stemmed bushes. But towards evening, though the rain abated not, nor the mad riot of the winds, a man might hear very far away the rhythmical tramping of some deathless steed, as one of the wild Valkyries approached, or far away a light would break out among the clouds showing where another rode lightly on the very winds and airs of heaven. Thus flying and galloping from every quarter of the world, that glorious company began to assemble, and the storm screamed welcome to them with many voices.

Legion were the questions each had to ask of the other, as to how she had sped that day, and what hero she brought back slung across her saddle-bows, and joyful were the greetings with which each hailed the other. Some, too, had brought with them the horses of the slain, and loud were the neighings and whinnyings in the wood as horse smelt filly, and cocked his ear and swished his tail for very joy of the life that was in him. But the noblest of all were the steeds of the Valkyries, and these they tied up to the trees while they waited for their full company to gather; and they cared for them tenderly, for it was by the deathless strength of their noble steeds that they rode so swiftly on their wide errands of death. Again and yet again flared the wild light of their approach, and on the saddle of each was swung a hero, for all had prospered that day, and joyfully they spoke together of the gathering there would be in Walhalla that night when they returned triumphant, and how Wotan would be well pleased at their prowess; while high rose the mirth at the table where sat the heroes, as their new brethren made whole again, and filled with eternal life by the power of Wotan, sat them down in wonder and amaze at the glory and joy that awaited them, when their eyes were opened after the sleep of death, to behold the dawning of the everlasting day.

And by now all the maidens were gathered but one only, for Brunnhilde, the eldest and the most noble of them all, had not yet returned from her quest, and the sisters wondered that she should delay so long. But one, thinking that they were all gathered, asked another why yet they delayed, for the sun was near its setting, and it was time they set forth to go to Walhalla with their spoils.

But she to whom her sister spake, replied —

"Not yet are we all gathered, for Brunnhilde comes not yet. Her deed to-day, as I know, my sisters, was with the Wolsung Siegmund, and she tarries long, for he fights for a woman, and men in such case are ever fiercest Yet may we not go to Walhalla till she is come, for what welcome, think you, we should get from Wotan, came we before him lacking his heart's darling? Dear are we all to him, but she is the dearest, and to us the dearest of all is she."

Meantime another of the eight, Siegrune, had climbed to the topmost ridge of rock, and looked out as best she might through the blinding storm, to see if Brunnhilde approached. Then suddenly the others below heard her shout of joyful war-cry, with which the sisters were wont to hail each other.

"She comes, she comes!" she cried, "and the speed of her coming is like the passage of the lightning, and as thunder the rides on the wings of the wind."

Then they all called aloud on her, and another sister, Waltraute, swiftly ran up to where Siegrune sat.

"See, she rides to the wood, and her good Grane labours sore. How spent he seems with her headlong speed."

And yet a third climbed up beside the two others.

"The wildest, fiercest ride that ever Brunnhilde sped," she cried. "But see! what lies on her saddle? No hero is it."

Then as the maid came nearer, riding on the wings of the storm, they saw that it was no hero indeed she carried, but a woman; and swiftly they hurried down to the wood to meet her, for that a Valkyrie should bring back a woman as spoil was in truth a new thing. And as they ran down they questioned one with another what this could be. They saw, too, that her good horse Grane was utterly spent with the gallop, and this, too, was a new thing, for Grane had the stoutest heart and the most untiring limbs of any horse in earth or heaven.

Then came Brunnhilde towards them through the trees, giving her support and strength to the woman Sieglinde, whom she led. Round her neck was Sieglinde's arm laid, yet scarcely even so could she put foot before foot, for like Grane the strength of her body was spent utterly, and her soul was sore with all that had come upon her. Then with hands outstretched in entreaty came Brunnhilde to them; and that, too, was a strange thing and a new, for of them all she was the blithest.

"Save me, sisters," cried she, "for harm follows hard after me, and I who never yet fled from any man fly now, and behind me in thunder and relentless pursuit follows the War-father."

And down she sank on a seat of rock, still supporting her whom she led.

But wonder and amazement seized on the sisters, and it seemed that she must be distraught and her wits, astray that she spoke so, for how should Wotan, whose darling she was, and whose very will she mirrored, be up in wrath against her?

Then Brunnhilde cried out again —

"Run to the topmost ridge, my sisters, and tell me if ye see aught. Look to the northward and say if the father comes, and if he is yet in sight, for I have fled before him. All day I have fled before him, and my heart is gone from me, for he rides furiously."

Then did the sisters do her bidding, and lo! to the northward there rose in the sky a great cloud, separate from the storm down which Brunnhilde had steered, and it rose high and black and moved very swiftly, and out of the midst of it came thunderings and lightnings, nor could they doubt but that this was Wotan riding on the clouds, his chariot. Then returned they and told Brunnhilde what they had seen, and she was very sore afraid, for she too knew that fast in pursuit came Wotan from the north, and that he came in wrath and terrible anger. And again she cried —

"Save me, my sisters, and shield the woman. Ye know not who she is, but I will tell you all and quickly, for there is no time to lose. Sieglinde is it I bring, the sister of Siegmund the Wolsung and his bride. Wotan this day, for Fricka's sake, doomed to death the Wolsung, and bid me forsake him whom ever I had loved. And obey I could not, for my heart allowed me not, and instead of forsaking him, and fighting against him, I sheltered him with my invincible shield. But on the other side fought Wotan, and against his spear was Siegmund's sword shattered. Then fear seized me, and I fell back, so that my shield no longer sheltered him, and by Hunding's sword did Siegmund fall. And with this woman fled I before the wrath that is coming, and hither I came, for with your help maybe the fulness of his displeasure shall be turned from my head."

Then were all the sisters filled with sorrow and amazement that she had disobeyed the word of Wotan, and scarce could they believe that she had dared to do this thing, for that Wotan's word should not be obeyed was a thing unthinkable, and they were sorely grieved. And ever from the north, like night, came the storm-chariot of Wotan nearer, and they knew the growing roar of the thunder to be the whinnying of the wild horses that he drove.

But Brunnhilde looked on Sieglinde, and as she looked all fear for herself was merged in pity for her, and again she spake to her sisters.

"Sisters, sisters, woe and destruction waits this woman if she abides the coming of Wotan, for with fire and wrath and the utmost terror of his face he wars against the Wolsungs. So, for my horse Grane is spent, lend me, I pray you, one of yours, that with her I may flee again and make her safe."

Then, though they all loved Brunnhilde, and she entreated each in turn, yet none would do this, for Wotan was their father, and not even at Brunnhilde's prayer could they turn from him. Thus she knew not which way to turn for help, and she bent over Sieglinde, and for pity of her and for sorrow she kissed her and embraced her lovingly. And at that caress Sieglinde, who till now had taken no part or lot in this wild war of words, but had sat as one who saw not nor felt, looked up into Brunnhilde's eyes, and saw all the sorrowful loving-kindness which sat there, and made such softness in her eyes.

"It is enough," she said, "for death, now Siegmund is dead, terrifies me not at all, and I would not that harm came to thee for my sake. Would that some blow in that strife had fallen on me, so that I might have died with him. Indeed I will not be parted from him. So, O thou holy and dear maiden, who hast been so tender to me, let me not live and curse thy tenderness, but hearken to my prayer, and strike me to the heart with thy sword. Strike strongly of thy strength."

And Brunnhilde spoke low to her and earnestly. "Ah, not so, not so," she said. "Cast not his love away, the pledge of which he has given thee. For hidden deep in thee lies another life; from thy womb shall spring a Wolsung."

Then did the mother awake in the woman, and all her face was flushed as with sunrise by a holy joy. Though she had no fears for herself, yet it could not be that the begotten of Siegmund should perish, and she thought of her unborn babe.

"Ah, save me and shelter me," she cried, "and shelter my helpless babe. O, ye maidens, I call you to save me and hide me from the wrath of Wotan."

Then suddenly came the voice of Waltraute from the topmost rock. "The storm is at hand," she cried. "Get thee hence, ere it fall on thee."

At that the others cried to Brunnhilde to get hence with the woman, for they dare not ward her from Wotan, and Sieglinde fell on her knees, and as mother of a child that should yet be born, besought Brunnhilde to save her for the sake of her motherhood that should be.

Then did Brunnhilde commune swiftly with herself, for lacking a horse she could not hope to flee with the woman before the face of Wotan. Yet when she spake her voice trembled, for she was afraid. But by no other way could she save Sieglinde and that holy seed.

"Get thee away alone," said she, "and flee softly and swiftly from the wrath. But I abide here so that in wrath against me he may delay his further pursuit. Here and on me will that full flood break, and here will it pour itself forth, and in the meantime shalt thou make thyself safe against his pursuit."

And for the sake of her child, Sieglinde pressed her hands in thanks.

"And whither shall I flee from the wrath?" she asked.

Then Brunnhilde turned again to her sisters. "O help me here," she said, "for in this in no way do ye cross the will of Wotan. Say, which of you have journeyed eastward this day?"

And Siegrune answered: "I, and eastward lies there a great wood where the giant Fafner guards the ring which was made from the Rhine-gold. That none should know it is he, he has taken the likeness of a mighty dragon, and in his lair he guards the ring. Yet it is no place for a helpless woman."

"Nor meet for a helpless woman is it to abide the wrath of Wotan," answered Brunnhilde. "And that wood, well know I, Wotan loves not, nor ever does he venture in its shade, for he thinks that there lurkes evil for him, and dark is the womb of fate."

Even as she spoke again, Waltraute shouted from the rock. "Wotan is very near," she cried; "hear ye not the roar of his coming?"

Then Brunnhilde trembled, but delayed not, and taking hold of Sieglinde she showed her the way she must follow.

"So begone!" she cried, "and set thy face ever eastwards. Great indeed is the burden that thou bearest within thee, so let thy heart be great also. Hunger and thirst will be thine, and the stony rock shall be thy bed, and with thorns shalt thou cover thyself, and of briars shalt thou make thy pillow. So be lifted up in thy courage and take these things blithely, and laugh only when thy need is the sorest. And, O woman! forget not ever, nor think lightly of what I tell thee, for within thee in the darkness of thy womb lies he who shall be the highest hero of earth."

Then took she from her mantle the fragments of the sword of Siegmund which she had gathered up when it was shattered against the spear of Wotan, and darkness fell on the rocky ridge where he fought with Hunding.

"Treasure these safe," said she, "for these are the shattered pieces of thy man's sword. Them gathered I for thy child, and he once more shall wield it in days to be. And I name him now. Siegfried shall he be, and by him shall be won the peace of victory, and the sword shall make him glad. So begone!"

But Sieglinde clung to her a moment yet.

"O, sweetest and most mighty of maidens," she said, "thy truth to me has made me believe that what thou now sayest is to be. That which thou hast given me, which was his whom we both loved, I will guard very jealously, and by him who will spring from Siegmund's loins perchance shall one day thy sorrow and mine be turned into joy and laughter. So farewell. The woman of many woes and sorrows blesses thee every day and for ever."

Then she went swiftly away eastwards through the pines.

CHAPTER IX
THE SENTENCE OF BRUNNHILDE

For a moment Brunnhilde stood there watching with a strange exaltation the figure of Sieglinde as it grew ever dimmer in the dimness of the plumed pines, and when it was now quite vanished she turned again, and stood yet awhile with clenched hands and knitted brow, so that she might be mistress of herself when the heavy wrath of Wotan fell on her, and disgrace not her own nature nor the bright company of her fearless sisters. Little she seemed to care what doom he might mete out to her, for at the worst he could but deal her swift death, and if the sons of men could die bravely and blithely, meeting the face of death as they would meet a friend's face, could she do less, she the first of the children of Erda? For all that, she was afraid, and with her fear there cut her like a two-edged sword the pang of remorse that she had disobeyed him whom her soul loved. Yet in this matter she knew well that were that choice again before her, she would do again as she had done, and not otherwise, for pity had enlightened her, and that sweet mandate was binding on her.

Then lifted she her eyes and saw that the height where her sisters had watched was already quite hidden by the thunder clouds that had driven so swiftly from the north, and it was as if black night encompassed the place. And from the middle of the cloud came the unceasing roar of thunder and the wild lanterns of the lightning flashed all ways at once. Then for a moment they ceased, and out of the middle of the cloud came the voice she loved, and it was more terrible than all the thunderings. Not very loud was it, but therein lay wrath as deep as the sea, and unappeasable as the desert's thirst; and it called her by name. And when Brunnhilde heard that she stood very still.

But the other Valkyries wailed among themselves when they saw that their father Wotan had even now reached the place, and loudly they bewailed for their sister Brunnhilde, for by his voice they knew that Wotan was exceedingly wroth. Then suddenly at the sound of their wailing, the fountains of fear were altogether loosed within Brunnhilde, and she felt sick with very terror, and her knees shook together. And she who had never besought aught for herself, besought them now.

"Sisters, sisters of mine, help me!" she cried, "for the sickness of fear has come upon me, and my heart is pierced. Surely his rage will crush me utterly, if you protect me not. Stand round me, let me hide among you, that he come not on me alone."

Then were her sisters full of pity for her, for none could "gainsay or resist her appeal; and in a company they ranged themselves upon a little rocky height that was there, all eight of them, and Brunnhilde they set in their midst, and she cowered down among them. Thus it might be that Wotan would suppose that she had not joined her sisters in fear of his displeasure, and that thus he might seek her elsewhere. And they whispered to her to be, of good cheer, and crouch low in the midst of them, and not answer to his call. This she did; and they grouped themselves round her on the rocky point, and thus awaited the coming of Wotan. Yet the bravest of them were afraid at the thought of the wrath that was coming, for they had seen him alight from his chariot on the mountain-top close above them, and in the calm of his anger there was that which was more terrible than the bellowing thunder or the lightning stroke. Then without haste came he down and stood before them. In his right hand he held the ashen spear, and his left hung by his side with fingers clenched, and his glorious face, before which the earth trembled, was very still and set; only the point of his spear trembled like an aspen leaf as he held it, and the Valkyries knew the wrath that shook him. Then he opened his mouth and spake very gently.

"Where is Brunnhilde?" said he, "for after her and her wickedness am I come. Do you think to hide her from me, or that ye will veil her and her evil deed from the reward I mete out to it?"

Then one and another replied to him, hoping to turn away his wrath; and one said that nought that she could do was so terrible as the anger with which he sought her; and another asked what it was that had so moved his rage; and yet another spake of the heroes they had slain that day, thus vainly seeking to cool his anger. But to their replies he answered not; only the trembling of the head of the ashen spear grew more violent, and at the last he broke out, no longer being still and calm in his wrath, but with an outburst of such rage as they had not dreamed was there. For all that, it was not so terrible as the stillness of the anger in which he had come to them.

"Is it your purpose to mock me?" he cried. "Indeed I am not good to mock. O, ye Valkyries, ye wax over-bold, nor does this delay serve to calm my displeasure, but it spreads further like the rising tide, and reaches you too. Of what avail then are your idle words? for well I know that there in your midst ye foolishly seek to guard Brunnhilde. I bid you all then to stand off from her, for from me and from you and your company she is for ever an outcast. She has proved herself worthless. Worthless is she, and the doom of the worthless shall come upon her at my hands."

Then again once more they besought him, for they trembled for Brunnhilde who in their midst lay trembling, and they told him how in panic of fear she had fled before him, beseeching her sisters to shield and shelter her, for they knew that they could not deceive him, nor was it of any use to say that she was not with them. So ere they handed her to him they tried to soften his anger, telling him that already fear, like some ploughshare, had furrowed her heart, that heart which had never yet trembled nor turned faint. Then with one voice they besought him to have pity, remembering her mighty deeds. But their pleading but more inflamed him, for it was the very darling of his soul who had disobeyed him, and thus her sin was the more grievous, and to try to turn his wrath and beseech in this sort seemed to him a womanish deed. So again he broke out in ever fiercer anger.

"Are ye indeed Valkyries?" he said, "and can it be that I have begotten a brood so timorous of soul, and so little courageous? Women of faint heart are ye all! Were these the hearts that I moulded, which should meet war and the clash of fighting like men, sharp as steel and hard as tempered steel, that like a pack of women you whimper in this sort when I, the righteous judge, come to visit one who has failed in truth? Ah! and ye know not half."

For a moment his anger all died out and left him only very sorry, for he loved Brunnhilde with a love far deeper than any of her sisters could ever know, and his voice softened.

"Ye shall hear what she has done," he said, "and judge if it was not meeter that my tears should flow and that I rather than you should weep and wail. For to her, to Brunnhilde, my innermost being and the secrets of my heart were known as to myself, and into her soul, as into a well of water, I looked and beheld myself, and my will that had been dark to me grew clear. In her, as in the womb of a woman with child, my will matured, and from her it came to birth. Never was there love like this between any man and maid. Was that a bond to lightly loose? Yet to-day she loosed it, and she who was my will fought against me. A clear command I laid on her, and in the sight of heaven and earth she disobeyed it, and the sword of Siegmund, made by me, was directed against myself by her command. She has done this."

Then he paused a little space, and again he spoke: "No longer I speak to you Valkyries, I speak to her. Dost thou hear me, Brunnhilde? Thou whom in every part I fashioned, to whom I gave thy deathless armour, to whom I gave all the sweetness and joy of life, dost thou hear me? And hearing me, art thou, thou, Brunnhilde, afraid, that thou hidest thyself like a coward, thou, Brunnhilde, and would shrink away from the doom and punishment that I have appointed for thee? So come out, come out, and of thy own free-will!"

And when Brunnhilde, crouching among her sisters, heard the voice of her father speaking in such sort to her, him whom she knew best and loved best of all the world, all fear suddenly died in her heart, for the love that each had towards the other cast fear out, and she knew only that he called her, and she must go. And she stood up straight, and with her hands to right and left she parted the sisters who would have screened her still, and with firm step and head borne proudly, as was ever her wont, she came near to where Wotan stood and looked him in the face and spoke to him.

"Father, I am here," she said. "Make known to me what thou wiliest."

Then answered Wotan: "Not from me, Brunnhilde," he said, "comes thy fate; it is thou thyself who hast sent it. Was it not by the might of my will that thy soul first awoke in thee? Yet thou hast warred against thy own soul. It was the might of my word that made thee mighty in noble deeds, yet to my word thou hast given the lie. Thou wast ever the maiden of my will to me, and against my will hast thou gone. Thou wast the maiden who bore my shield, but against me hast thou stretched the shield forth. It was thou whom I appointed to choose the lots of life and death. Where I ordained life thou didst think to give death, where I appointed death thou didst let live. It was thou whom I appointed to lift up the hearts of heroes, yea, and thou didst lift them up against me. I tell thee all that thou wert; but by what name thou shouldest now be called, thou knowest thyself. No more art thou the maiden of my will, but maiden only, and as Valkyrie thou hast gone on thy last errand. From henceforth thou art that which thou hast made thyself; thou metest out thy own punishment, and it is just."

Then did it seem to Brunnhilde that she could have borne all else but only this, that she should be thus parted from her father, and her heart was stricken.

"Dost thou so cast me from thee?" she said. "Canst thou think to do such a thing?"

"Thou sayest it," said he, "and thou art outcast from me utterly. Never again from Walhalla shalt thou storm forth at my bidding on thy joyous errands, nor ever again shall I show to thee the heroes thou shalt fight and slay, guiding their souls at eventide to my halls, there to make merry at the joyful feastings of the gods. Nor ever again when the mirth grows louder, deep into the night, shalt thou hand me the wine-cup, nor again shall our souls mingle in the sweet caresses of father and daughter as was our wont. For out of the company of gods thou art taken, and thy place shall know thee no more, and thou, that fair flower-bud that grew so strong and sweet on the abiding stem of my godhead, art nipped off and cast away. For the bond between us is broken, and for ever art thou banished from before my face, and out of the light of mine eyes."

Then began the sisters all to weep and to wail, for like Wotan they loved her, and with words of pity they called on her by name, and bitterly they lamented themselves. But among them all Brunnhilde stood dry-eyed and firm. Nought said she to vainly try to turn his mind, she wished but to learn her uttermost doom.

"Then is all, all that thou hast given me, utterly lost to me?" she said. "Of all thy gifts dost thou strip me? Is all lost to me?"

"Yea, and it is lost to me," said Wotan, "for from the life and light of the gods thou passest. Here shalt thou abide, even here, and deep sleep shall wrap thee round, and thou shalt be alone and without protector, until the day come that some man, a wayfarer, passing here shall see a maid lying alone, and shall come to her and wake her, and she shall be his. Maiden only thou art, not maiden of my will, and to maid, as is fit, comes man."

But even now when the horror of her full doom was told to Brunnhilde, still she swooned not nor bewailed herself. But among the sisters again rose wild tumult and bewilderment of pity, for of all dooms to fall into the hands of a man was to them the most shameful, and the stain and disgrace that was decreed to her touched their sisterhood. And with one consent they entreated their father to have pity, and not put that uttermost degradation on her, but refrain from cursing her with so great an infamy. Yet he paid no heed to their wailings, for it was even as he said, and Brunnhilde was the maiden of his will no more, but a maiden only, and a man will find the maiden at the last.

Then because they still importuned him till he was vexed with them, he turned fiercely on them. "Her fate is fixed," he cried, "and ye have heard it. From you as from me is she for ever separate because she was faithless; and as I have said, so shall it be. No more shall her steed whinny to its fellows as ye fly together on the wings of the winds. And here shall she abide till the man who fares by shall pluck the full bloom of her sleeping maidenhood, and from maid shall make of her mother. To man her master shall her heart be bent, and meekly shall she do all his will. The cares of the house shall be hers, and by the hearth-side shall she sit and ply the distaff, as befits a wife, and the mockers among men, it may be, shall make merry at her. Woman shall she be among the sons of men, and her fate none other than theirs."

Then was the spirit of Brunnhilde broken within her, for the punishment was harder than she could bear; yet still she said no word. But her sisters again broke out into lamentations, whereat Wotan was angry, for what must be, must be, and their bewailings were but a waste of breath and cowardly withal. Nor was it his will to palaver longer with them.