Part 27 (1/2)

Then no word answered Gudrun till she waded up the stream And stretched forth her hand to Brynhild, and thereon was a golden gleam, And she spake, and her voice was but little: ”Thou mayst know by this token and sign If the best of the kings of man-folk and the master of masters is thine.”

White waxed the face of Brynhild as she looked on the glittering thing: And she spake: ”By all thou lovest, whence haddest thou the ring?”

Then Gudrun laughed in her glory the face of the Queen to see: ”Thinkst thou that my brother Gunnar gave the Dwarf-wrought ring to me?”

Nought spake the glorious woman, but as one who clutcheth a knife She turned on the mocking Gudrun, and again spake Sigurd's wife:

”I had the ring, O Brynhild, on the night that followed the morn, When the semblance of Gunnar left thee in thy golden hall forlorn: And he, the giver that gave it, was the Helper's war-got thrall, And the babe King Elf uplifted to the war-dukes in the hall; And he rode with the heart-wise Regin, and rode the Glittering Heath, And gathered the Golden Harvest and smote the Worm to the death: And he rode with the sons of the Niblungs till the words of men must fail To tell of the deeds of Sigurd and the glory of his tale: Yet e'en as thou sayst, O Brynhild, the bidding of Gunnar he did, For he cloaked him in Gunnar's semblance and his shape in Gunnar's hid:-- Thou all-wise Queen of the Niblungs, was this so hard a part For the learned in the lore of Regin, who ate of the Serpent's heart?

--Thus he wooed the bride for Gunnar, and for Gunnar rode the fire; And he held thine hand for Gunnar, and lay by thy dead desire.

We have known thee for long, O Brynhild, and great is thy renown; In this shalt thou joy henceforward and nought in thy wedding crown.”

Now is Brynhild wan as the dead, and she openeth her mouth to speak, But no word cometh outward: then the green bank doth she seek, And casteth her raiment upon her, and flees o'er the meadow fair, As though flames were burning beneath it, and red gleeds the daisies were: But fair with face triumphant from the water Gudrun goes, And with many a thought of Sigurd the heart within her glows.

And yet as she walked the meadow a fear upon her came, What deeds are the deeds of women in their anguish and their shame; And many a heavy warning and many a word of fate By the lips of Sigurd spoken she remembereth overlate; Yet e'en to the heart within her she dissembleth all her dread.

Daylong she sat in her bower in glee and goodlihead, But when the day was departing and the earl-folk drank in the hall She went alone in the garden by the nook of the Niblung wall; There she thought of that word in the river, and of how it were better unsaid, And she looked with kind words to hide it, as men bury their battle-dead With the spice and the sweet-smelling raiment: in the cool of the eve she went And murmured her speech of forgiveness and the words of her intent, While her heart was happy with love: then she lifted up her face, And lo, there was Brynhild the Queen hard by in the leafy place; Then the smile from her bright eyes faded and a flush came over her cheek And she said: ”What dost thou, Brynhild? what matter dost thou seek?”

But the word of Sigurd smote her, and she spake ere the answer came: ”Hard speech was between us, Brynhild, and words of evil and shame; I repent, and crave thy pardon: wilt thou say so much unto me, That the Niblung wives may be merry, as great queens are wont to be?”

But no word answered Brynhild, and the wife of Sigurd spake: ”Lo, I humble myself before thee for many a warrior's sake, And yet is thine anger heavy--well then, tell all thy tale, And the grief that sickens thine heart, that a kindly word may avail.”

Then spake Brynhild and said: ”Thou art great and livest in bliss, And the n.o.ble queens and the happy should ask better tidings than this: For ugly words must tell it; thou shouldst scarce know what they mean; Thou, the child of the mighty Niblungs, thou, Sigurd's wedded queen.

It is good to be kindly and soft while the heart hath all its will.”

Said the Queen: ”There is that in thy word that the joy of my heart would kill.

I have humbled myself before thee, and what further shall I say?”

Then spake Brynhild the Queen: ”I spake heavy words today; And thereof do I repent me; but one thing I beseech thee and crave: That thou speak but a word in thy turn my life and my soul to save: --Yea the lives of many warriors, and the joy of the Niblung home, And the days of the unborn children, and the health of the days to come-- Say thou it was Gunnar thy brother that gave thee the Dwarf-lord's ring, And not the glorious Sigurd, the peerless lovely King; E'en so will I serve thee for ever, and peace on this house shall be, And rest ere my departing, and a joyous life for thee; And long life for the lovely Sigurd, and a glorious tale to tell.

O speak, thou sister of Gunnar, that all may be better than well!”

But hard grew the heart of Gudrun, and she said: ”Hast thou heard the tale That the wives of the Niblungs lie, lest the joy of their life-days fail?

Wilt thou threaten the house of the Niblungs, wilt thou threaten my love and my lord?

--It was Sigurd that lay in thy bed with thee and the edge of the sword; And he told me the tale of the night-tide, and the bitterest tidings thereof, And the shame of my brother Gunnar, how his glory was turned to a scoff; And he set the ring on my finger with sweet words of the sweetest of men, And no more from me shall it sunder--lo, wilt thou behold it again?”

And her hand gleamed white in the even with the ring of Andvari thereon, The thrice-cursed burden of greed and the grain from the needy won; Then uprose the voice of Brynhild, and she cried to the towers aloft:

”O house of the ancient people, I blessed thee sweet and soft; In the day of my grief I blessed thee, when my life seemed evil and long; Look down, O house of the Niblungs, on the hapless Brynhild's wrong!

Lest the day and the hour be coming when no man in thy courts shall be left To remember the woe of Brynhild, and the joy from her life-days reft; Lest the grey wolf howl in the hall, and the wood-king roll in the porch, And the moon through thy broken rafters be the Niblungs' feastful torch.”

”O G.o.d-folk hearken,” cried Gudrun, ”what a tale there is to tell!

How a Queen hath cursed her people, and the folk that hath cherished her well!”

”O Niblung child,” said Brynhild, ”what bitterer curse may be Than the curse of Grimhild thy mother, and the womb that carried thee?”

”Ah fool!” said the wife of Sigurd, ”wilt thou curse thy very friend?

But the bitter love bewrays thee, and thy pride that nought shall end.”

”Do I curse the accursed?” said Brynhild, ”but yet the day shall come, When thy word shall scarce be better on the threshold of thine home; When thine heart shall be dulled and chilly with e'en such a mingling of might, As in Sigurd's cup she mingled, and thou shalt not remember aright.”

Out-brake the child of the Niblungs: ”A witless lie is this; But thou sickenest sore for Sigurd, and the giver of all bliss: A ruthless liar thou art: thou wouldst cut off my glory and gain, Though it further thine own hope nothing, and thy longing be empty and vain.

Ah, thou hungerest after mine husband!--yet greatly art thou wed, And high o'er the kings of the Goth-folk doth Gunnar rear the head.”