Part 35 (1/2)

He said: ”Good yet were the earth, though all we should die in a day: But so fares it with you, ye women: when your husband or brother shall die, Ye deem that the world shall perish, and the race of man go by.”

”Sure then is thy death,” she answered, ”for I saw the Eastland flood Break over the Burg of the Niblungs, and fill the hall with blood.”

He said: ”Shall we wade the meadows to the feast of Atli the King?

Then the blood-red blossoming sorrel about our legs shall cling.”

Said Bera: ”I saw thee coming with the face of other days; But the flame was in thy raiment, and thy kingly cloak was ablaze.”

”How else,” said he, ”O woman, wouldst thou have a Niblung stride, Save in ruddy gold sun-lighted, through the house of Atli's pride?”

She said: ”I beheld King Atli midst the place of sacrifice And the holy grove of the Eastland in a king's most hallowed guise: Then I looked, as with laughter triumphant he laid his gift in the fire, And lo, 'twas the heart of Hogni, and the heart of my desire; But he turned and looked upon me as I sickened with fear and with love, And I saw the guile of the greedy, and with speechless sleep I strove, And had cried out curses against him, but my gaping throat was hushed, Till the light of a deedless dawning o'er dream and terror rushed; And there wert thou lying beside me, though but little joy it seemed, For thou wert but an image unstable of the days before I dreamed.”

Quoth Hogni, ”Shall I arede it? Seems it not meet to thee That the heart and the love of the Niblungs in Atli's hand should be, When he stands by the high G.o.ds' altars, and uplifts his heart for the tide When the kings of the world-great people to the Eastland house shall ride?

Nay, Bera, wilt thou be weeping? but parting-fear is this; Doubt not we shall come back happy from the house of Atli's bliss: At least, when a king's hand offers all honour and great weal, Wouldst thou have me strive to unclasp it to show the hidden steel?

With evil will I meet evil when it draweth exceeding near; But oft have I heard of evil, whose father was but fear, And his mother l.u.s.t of living, and nought will I deal with it, Lest the past, and those deeds of my doing be as straw when the fire is lit.

Lo now, O Daughter of Kings, let us rise in the face of the day, And be glad in the summer morning when the kindred ride on their way; For tears beseem not king-folk, nor a heart made dull with dreams, But to hope, if thou mayst, for ever, and to fear nought, well beseems.”

There the talk falls down between them, and they rise in the morn, they twain, And bright-faced wend through the dwelling of the Niblungs' glory and gain.

Meanwhile awakeneth Gunnar, and looks on the wife by his side, And saith: ”Why weepest thou, Glaumvor, what evil now shall betide?”

She said: ”I was waking and dreamed, or I slept and saw the truth; The Norns are hooded and angry, and the G.o.ds have forgotten their ruth.”

”Speak, sweet-mouthed woman,” said Gunnar, ”if the Norns are hard, I am kind; Though even the King of the Niblungs may loose not where they bind.”

She said: ”Wilt thou go unto Atli and enter the Burg of the East?

Wilt thou leave the house of the faithful, and turn to the murderer's feast?”

”It is e'en as certain,” said Gunnar, ”as though I knocked at his gate, If the winds and waters stay not, or death, or the dealings of Fate.”

”Woe worth the while!” said Glaumvor, ”then I talk with the dead indeed: And why must I tarry behind thee afar from the Niblungs' Need?”

He said: ”Thou wert heavy-hearted last night for the parting-tide; And alone in the dreamy country thy soul would needs abide, And see not the King that loves thee, nor remember the might of his hand; So thou falledst a prey unholpen to the lies of the dreamy land.”

”Ah, would they were lies,” said Glaumvor, ”for not the worst was this: There thou wert in the holy high-seat mid the heart of the Niblung bliss, And a sword was borne into our midmost, and its point and its edge were red, And at either end the wood-wolves howled out in the day of dread; With that sword wert thou smitten, O Gunnar, and the sharp point pierced thee through.

And the kin were all departed, and no face of man I knew: Then I strove to flee and might not; for day grew dark and strange, And no moonrise and no morning the eyeless mirk would change.”

”Such are dreams of the night,” said Gunnar, ”that lovers oft perplex, When the sundering hour is coming with the cares that entangle and vex.

Yet if there be more, fair woman, when a king speaks loving words, May I cast back words of anger, and the threat of grinded swords?”

”O yet wouldst thou tarry,” said Glaumvor, ”in the fair sun-lighted day!

Nor give thy wife to another, nor cast thy kingdom away.”

”Of what king of the people,” said Gunnar, ”hast thou known it written or told, That the word was born in the even which the morrow should withhold?”

”Alas, alas!” said Glaumvor, ”then all is over and done!

For I dreamed of the hall of the Niblungs at the setting of the sun, How dead women came in thither no worse than queens arrayed, Who pa.s.sed by the earls of the Niblungs, and their hands on thy gown-skirt laid, And hailed thee fair for their fellow, and bade thee come to their hall.

O bethink thee, King of the Niblungs, what tidings shall befall!”

”Yea, shall they befall?” said Gunnar, ”then who am I to strive Against the change of my life-days, while the G.o.ds on high are alive?

I shall ride as my heart would have me; let the G.o.ds bestir them then, And raise up another people in the stead of the Niblung men: But at home shalt thou sit, King's Daughter, in the keeping of the Fates, And be blithe with the men of thy people and the guest within thy gates, Till thou know of our glad returning to the holy house and dear Or the fall of Giuki's children, and a tale that all shall hear.

Arise and do on gladness, lest the clouds roll on and lower O'er the heavy hearts of the people in the Niblungs' parting hour.”