Great Opera Stories Part 11

Her foot was upon the lowest step. She was about to ascend to the cathedral when she was rudely pushed aside. Ortrud had sprung forward, crying,--

"Get back! I'll go first. My rank is higher than yours, and I shall not walk behind you!"

Elsa turned in astonishment. Was this the meek Ortrud who had come to her begging forgiveness, pleading repentance?

The people cried out in anger. But Ortrud, unheeding, went on:

"My husband may be in disgrace, but he is greater than you all. He will rule you yet. As for the husband you are to marry,--" and she looked at the frightened Elsa,--"who is he? What is his rank? You dare not even ask his name!"

Poor Elsa protested. She tried to say that she did not care to know her Swan Knight's name. Heaven had sent him, and she was content. His face bore the stamp of n.o.ble birth, and she would always trust him. But her voice faltered as she spoke. The seed of suspicion had taken root, and dark doubts arose to torment her.

At that moment, when the consternation was greatest, the King appeared on the palace steps. With him, in proud array, were the good men and true who had come to bear him company. And following them all was the Swan Knight. His bearing seemed n.o.bler than ever, as he trod proudly forward to claim his bride.

But when he saw the wicked Ortrud and the false Frederick, who by this time had joined in denouncing him and questioning his name, his face clouded. King Henry, also, seeing the strife, pressed forward through the crowd, giving orders to push aside the wicked couple.

The Swan Knight took Elsa tenderly into his arms for a moment, looking deep into her eyes. Then, led by the King, the marriage procession proceeded into the cathedral.

IV

The wedding festival was over. With flaming torches held aloft and joyous voices raised in song, the procession of ladies and n.o.bles led the bride and bridegroom to their flower-bedecked chamber. Then, showering blessings upon them, they departed. The torchlights faded in the distance; the sound of march and song grew faint. It died away. Elsa and her Swan Knight were alone.

There was a brief silence while they gazed at each other in rapture.

She, so lovely, was his inmost heart's desire. He, so brave, was the beloved Knight of her dream. Their voices grew soft with happiness, and on their faces was the glow of a deep joy.

Too soon, however, at the sound of her name on her lover's lips, a shade stole over Elsa's bright face. "Ah!" thought she, "I can never call him by his name, for I shall never know what it is." Then, like a flash, all of Ortrud's taunts came to her mind. And following them, all the dark doubts, the vague suspicions, arose again to torment her.

First she sat in moody silence. But soon a strange curiosity showed itself in her speech. Would the fetters that bound the Swan Knight's lips ne'er be loosened? Must she, his wife, always remain in ignorance?

If he loved her truly, he would surely whisper his secret ever so softly into her ear. No one should ever know. She would guard the secret well, locking it within her very heart.

Thus she pleaded and begged, but the Swan Knight pretended not to hear her. He spoke of other things, striving to distract her mind.

But Elsa would not be put off. Her eyes were fixed upon the Knight, and her face, but lately aglow with wonder and delight, was clouded with unbelief and suspicion.

The Knight was distressed by this sudden change. He reminded her gently of the confidence that he had placed in her promise. He warned her tenderly of the sorrows that would befall if she did not cease her questioning. He had given up so much honor, yes, and glory besides, to stay by her side. Would she not trust him utterly?

Scarcely had Elsa heard the words "glory and honor" than a horrible fear seized her. "He had come by magic," Ortrud had said, "and by magic he would go." Now she knew how it would befall. Soon he would tire of her and would return to the honor and glory from which he had come. Stricken with terror, she fancied that she already heard the Swan coming to carry him away. It was too much to bear! Cost what it might, she must learn who he was.

"Where do you come from?" she cried "Who are you?"

"Ah, Elsa!" answered the Knight, sadly, "what have you done?"

But before he could utter another word, Frederick of Telramund burst into the room with drawn sword in hand.

Elsa saw him first. She forgot her doubt. She forgot her question. She thought only that the Swan Knight, her lover, was in danger.

"Save yourself!" she shrieked. "Your sword, your sword!" She thrust it into his hand.

He drew it quickly. There was a short parry, one blow; and base Frederick lay dead at the Swan Knight's feet.

Then the Swan Knight turned to Elsa. His eyes were tender, but, oh, how pitying! Their glance pierced Elsa's heart, and filled her with despair for what she had done. His voice was sad as he bade her clothe herself in bridal raiment and go before the King. There, on the morrow, he would make fitting answer and tell her the rank he bore. And so saying, he walked sorrowfully out of the flower-bedecked room.

The next day dawned bright and clear. As was his wont, King Henry the Fowler sat beneath the giant oak on the bank of the winding river Scheldt. By his side stood the n.o.bles from Saxony and Thuringia who had come to bear him company. And before him were a.s.sembled the men of Brabant, from north and south, from east and west, of the Duchy.

Slowly, with measured strides, four men walked into their midst. They bore the body of Frederick of Telramund on a bier, which they placed before the King.

The n.o.bles looked anxiously at one another. What strange happening was this? For, closely following, tottering feebly, came the d.u.c.h.ess Elsa and her train of ladies. Solemnly they marched with eyes downcast, while she, who but lately had been radiant with happiness, was sad and pale. Her eyes, unseeing, stared in anguish straight ahead!

The King stepped quickly forward. He looked inquiringly into her face as he led her to a seat beside him. Elsa could not meet his eyes. She moistened her lips twice, thrice, but no sound came.

Just then a shout arose from the men:

"Hail, all hail, The hero of Brabant!"

they cried.

The Swan Knight entered. His armor glittered in the sunlight. A sword hung at his side, a horn from his shoulder. How strong he was! How brave! But how strangely sad was his face. He advanced, helmet in hand, and stood before the King. Making a low obeisance, he strode toward the bier of the dead Frederick. He uncovered the body, and then solemnly asked the King's pardon for having killed this man who had stolen by stealth upon him.

"Nay, ask not our pardon!" spoke the just King. "We approve your deed!"

And all the men of Brabant nodded in a.s.sent.

But that was not all the Swan Knight had to tell. His wife, Elsa of Brabant, had broken her promise. She had asked his name. And since it was a law of the Order to which he belonged, he would make public answer to her question. But then he must depart to the distant land from which he had come.

Astonishment spread like wildfire among the people. As for Elsa, she sat like a creature of stone. Only Ortrud, who had crept near to listen, smiled in ill-concealed triumph.

The Swan Knight's face was suffused with holy light. The eyes of his soul seemed to be peering far, far away into the distance beyond the winding river, beyond the gray hills, perhaps to the very gates of heaven itself.

He told the tale of a marvelous Temple rising from the heights of Mount Salvat, wherein, upon a mystic shrine, rested the sacred chalice called the Holy Grail. He told of the few chosen knights who guarded the wondrous Grail, and who, by its Heaven-given powers, were protected from baneful harm and endowed with supernatural might. Whenever an innocent cause needed a champion, whenever a grievous wrong had been done, one of the knights sallied forth and defended the one who had been falsely accused. But it was a law that no one might know from whence he came or by what name he was called. For if once the truth were revealed, his power was gone; the knight must hasten back to the Temple of the Grail.

The Swan Knight's voice rose higher. Like some rare, sweet strain of music, it fell upon the air:

"The Grail obeying, here to you I came; My father Parsifal, a crown he weareth, His Knight am I and Lohengrin my name!"

The shadow of a great awe crept into the eyes of all who heard. They stared at Lohengrin in silence.

Only Elsa sank moaning to the ground. Lohengrin caught her in his arms.

"Oh, Elsa, dear one," he cried, "why did you strive to learn my secret?

Now I must leave you forever. Had you but remained faithful to your promise for one year, even your brother G.o.dfrey would have come back to you. Here is my sword, my horn, my ring. Should he ever return, give them to him. The sword will help him in battle, the horn will give him aid in an hour of need, and the ring will remind him of Lohengrin, who defended you. Now farewell! The Grail calls me. My swan is here."

While he had been speaking, the snow-white swan, drawing the empty boat, had glided quietly up the winding river. It stood at the sh.o.r.e. The people gazed at it mournfully. Even Lohengrin greeted it in sadness.

Suddenly the dark-haired Ortrud, who had been watching, approached the sh.o.r.e. She leaned over the snow-white swan, and when she saw the golden circlet about its neck, she laughed fiendishly.

"It is he!" she cried. "It is G.o.dfrey! My magic changed him into a swan, and a swan he shall remain!" and she grinned exultingly at Elsa.

Lohengrin, about to enter the boat, stopped at the sound of Ortrud's voice. He listened a moment. Then he fell upon his knees and prayed, while all the people waited breathlessly.