Journeys Through Bookland Volume Iii Part 38

[Ill.u.s.tration: GRENDEL COULD NOT BREAK THAT GRIP OF STEEL.]

Then spying the sleeping Beowulf he dropped his mangled prey and laid his rough hands on his watchful enemy. Suddenly Beowulf raised himself upon one elbow and fastened his strong grip on the astonished Jotun.

Never before had Grendel felt such a grip of steel. He straightened his mighty back and flung the clinging Beowulf toward the door, but never for a moment did the brave champion relax his fierce grip, and the ogre was thrown back into the center of the hall. Together they fell upon the beautiful pavement and rolled about in their mighty struggles till the walls of the palace shook as in a hurricane and the very pinnacles toppled from their secure foundations. The walls of Heorot fell not, but the floor was strewn with broken benches whose gold trappings were torn like paper, while the two struggled on the floor in the wreck of drinking horns and costly vessels from the tables, while over all slopped ale from the mammoth tankards. Backward and forward they struggled, sometimes upon their feet and again upon the floor; but with all his fearsome struggles, Grendel could not break that grip of steel. At last, with one mighty wrench, Grendel tore himself free, leaving in the tightly locked hands of Beowulf his strong right arm and even his shoulder blade, torn raggedly from his body. Roaring with pain from the gaping wound which extended from neck to waist, the ogre fled to the marshes, into whose slimy depths he fell; and there he slowly bled to death. Fair shone the sun on Heorot the next morning when the warriors came from all directions to celebrate the marvelous prowess of Beowulf, who stalked in triumph through the hall with his b.l.o.o.d.y trophy held on high. Close by the throne of the king he hung Grendel's shoulder, arm, and hand, where all might see and test the strength of its mighty muscles and the steel-like hardness of its nails, which no human sword of choicest steel could mark or mar. With bursting heart, Hrothgar thanked G.o.d for his deliverance and gave credit to Beowulf for his valorous deed.

First was the wreck of the savage encounter cleared away, then were the iron bands refastened on the door and the tables spread for a costly feast of general rejoicing. There amid the songs of the Skalds and the shouts of the warriors, the queen poured forth the sacred mead and handed it to Beowulf in the royal cup of ma.s.sive gold. As the rejoicing grew more general, the king showered gifts upon Beowulf, an ensign and a helm, a breastplate and a sword, each covered with twisted gold and set with precious stones. Eight splendid horses, trapped in costly housings trimmed with golden thread and set with jewels, were led before Beowulf, and their silken bridles were laid within his hand. With her own hand the queen gave him a ma.s.sive ring of russet gold sparkling with diamonds, the finest in the land.

"May happiness and good fortune attend thee, Beowulf," she said, "and ever may these well-earned gifts remind thee of those whom thou hast succored from deadly peril; and as the years advance may fame roll in upon thee as roll the billows upon the rocky sh.o.r.es of our beloved kingdom."

When the feast was over Hrothgar and his queen departed from the hall, and Beowulf retired to the When the feast was over Hrothgar and his queen departed from the hall, and Beowulf retired to the house they had prepared for him. But the warriors remained as was their custom, and, girt in their coats of chained mail, with swords ready at hand, they lay down upon the floor to sleep, prepared to answer on the instant any call their lord should make. Dense darkness closed upon the hall, and the Danes slept peacefully, unaware that danger threatened.

When midnight came, out of the cold waters of the reedy fastnesses in the marsh came Grendel's mother, fierce and terrible in her wrath, burning to avenge the death of her son. Like Grendel she wrenched the door from its iron fastenings and trod across the figured floor of Heorot. With bitter malice she seized the favorite counselor of Hrothgar and rent his body limb from limb. Then seizing from the wall the arm and shoulder of her son she ran quickly from the hall and hid herself in her noisome lair.

The noise of her savage work aroused the sleeping Danes, and so loud were their cries of anger and dismay that Hrothgar heard, and rushed forth to Heorot, where Beowulf met him.

As soon as Hrothgar heard what had happened he turned to Beowulf and cried, "O, mighty champion of the Danes, yet again has grief and sorrow come upon me, for my favorite war companion and chief counselor has been foully murdered by Grendel's mother, nor can we tell who next will suffer from the foul fiend's wrath.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BEOWULF ON HIS n.o.bLE STEED]

"Scarcely a mile from this place, in the depths of a grove of moss- covered trees, which are h.o.a.ry with age, and whose interlacing branches shut out the light of the sun, lies a stagnant pool. Around the edges of its foul black water twine the snake-like roots of the trees, and on its loathsome surface at night the magic fires burn dimly. In the midst of the pond, shunned alike by man and beast, lives the wolf-like mother of Grendel. Darest thou to enter its stagnant depths to do battle with the monster and to deliver us from her ravages?"

Straightening his ma.s.sive form and throwing back his head in fierce determination, Beowulf replied, "To avenge a friend is better than to mourn for him. No man can hasten or delay by a single moment his death hour. What fate awaiteth me I know not, but I dare anything to wreak vengeance on the foul murderer, and in my efforts to bring justice I take no thought of the future."

Then the king Hrothgar ordered a n.o.ble steed with arching neck and tossing mane to be saddled and brought forth for the n.o.ble Beowulf to ride. Shield bearers by the score accompanied him as he rode on the narrow bridle path, between those dark-frowning cliffs whose rugged trees dimmed the sun and made the journey seem as though it were in twilight. In such a manner came they to the desolate lake in the gloomy wood.

The sight that met the eyes of Beowulf was enough to chill the blood of any man. On the sh.o.r.e among the tangled roots of the trees crawled hideous poisonous snakes, while on the surface of the water rolled great sea dragons, whose ugly crests were raised in anger and alarm.

From the turbid depths of the water, unholy animals of strange and fearful shapes kept coming to the surface and swimming about with threatening mien.

Undaunted by these sickening sights, Beowulf blew a mighty blast upon his terrible war-horn, at the sound of which the noisome animals slunk back to the slimy depths of the dismal pond. Clad in his shirt of iron mail, wearing the hooded helmet that had often protected his head from the savage blows of his enemies, and clasping in his hand the handle of his great knife, Hrunting, whose hardened blade had carried death to many a strong foeman, Beowulf fronted the awful lake.

Thus armed and protected, he plunged into the thickened oily waters, which closed quickly over him, leaving but a few great bubbles to show where he had disappeared. Into the depths of the dark abyss he swam until it seemed as though he were plunging straight into the jaws of death.

As his mighty strength neared exhaustion, Beowulf found the hall at the depth of the abyss, and there saw Grendel's mother lying in wait for him. With her fierce claws she grappled him and dragged him into her dismal water palace whose dark walls oozed with the slime of ages.

Recovering his breath, and fierce at the a.s.sault, Beowulf swung his heavy knife and brought it down on the sea wolf's head. Never before had Hrunting failed him, but now the hard skull of Grendel's mother turned the biting edge of the forged steel, and the blow twisted the blade as though it were soft wire. Flinging aside his useless knife, Beowulf clutched the sea woman with the mighty grip that had slain her son, and the struggle for mastery began. More than once was Beowulf pushed nigh to exhaustion, but every time he recovered himself and escaped from the deadly grasp of the powerful fiend who strove to take his life. As he grew weaker, Grendel's mother seized her russet-bladed knife and with a mighty blow drove it straight at the heart of Beowulf. Once again his trusty shirt of mail turned the blade, and by a last convulsive effort he regained his feet.

As he rose from his dangerous position he saw glittering in his sight as it hung in the walls of water, the hilt of a mighty sword, which was made for giants, and which no man on earth but Beowulf could wield. Little he knew of its magic power, but he seized it in both hands, and swinging it about his head in mighty curves, struck full at the head of the monster. Savage was the blow, more mighty than human being ever struck before, and the keen edge of the sword crashed through the brazen mail, cleft the neck of the sea wolf, and felled her dead upon the floor. From her neck spurted hot blood which melted the blade and burned it away as frost wreathes are melted by the sun.

In his hand remained only the carven hilt.

On the sh.o.r.e of the dark lake the Danes waited anxiously for the reappearance of Beowulf, and when blood came welling up through the dark waters they felt their champion had met his fate, and returning to Heorot, they sat down to mourn in the great mead-hall.

Then among them strode Beowulf, carrying in one hand the great head of the sea woman and in the other the blistered hilt of the sword, snake- shaped, carven with the legend of its forging. Beowulf related the story of his combat and added, "When I saw that Grendel's mother was dead I seized her head and swam upward again through the heaving waters, bearing the heavy burden with me; and as I landed on the sh.o.r.e of the lake I saw its waters dry behind me, and bright meadows with beautiful flowers take their place. The trees themselves put on new robes of green, and peace and gladness settled over all. G.o.d and my strong right hand prospered me, and here I show the sword with which the giants of old defied the eternal G.o.d, The enemies of G.o.d are overcome, and here in Heorot may Hrothgar and his counselors dwell in peace."

The king and his counselors gathered round about Beowulf, and looked with wonder and amazement on the head of the fierce sea monster and read with strange thrills of awe the wondrous history of the sword and the cunning work of its forgers.

Then to Beowulf, Hrothgar spoke in friendly wise, "Glorious is thy victory, O Beowulf, and great and marvelous is the strength that G.o.d hath given thee, but accept now in the hour of thy success a word of kindly counsel. When a man rides on the high tide of success he may think that his strength and glory are forever, but it is G.o.d alone who giveth him courage and power over others, and in the end all must fall before the arrows of death. G.o.d sent Grendel to punish me for my pride when I had freed the Danes and built my pinnacled mead-hall. Then when this despair was upon me he brought thee to my salvation. Bear then thy honors meekly, and give thanks to G.o.d that made thee strong. Go now into the feast and join thy happiness to that of my warriors."

That day the high walls of Heorot rang with the thunderous shouts of the warriors and echoed the inspiring words of the Skalds who sang of Beowulf's victory. When at last darkness settled o'er the towers and pinnacles of the palace, the grateful Danes laid themselves down to sleep in peace and safety, knowing that their slumber would never again be disturbed by the old sea woman or her giant progeny.

CUPID AND PSYCHE

Adapted by ANNA MCCALEB

Once upon a time, in a far-off country whose exact location no man knows, there lived a king whose chief glory and pride was in his three beautiful daughters. The two elder sisters were sought in marriage by princes, but Psyche, by far the most beautiful of the three, remained at her father's home, unsought. The fact was, she was so lovely that all the people worshiped her as a G.o.ddess, while no man felt that he was worthy to ask for her hand.

"Shall a mere mortal," they said, "venture to seek the love of Venus, queen of beauty?"

When Psyche learned of the name they had given her she was frightened, for she knew well the jealous, vengeful nature of the G.o.ddess of beauty. And she did well to fear; for Venus, jealous, angry, was even then plotting her destruction.

"Go," she said to her son Cupid. "Wound that proud, impertinent girl with your arrows, and see to it that she falls in love with some wretched, depraved human being. She shall pay for attempting to rival me."

Off went the mischievous youth, pleased with his errand; but when he bent over the sleeping Psyche and saw that she was far more beautiful than any one whom he had ever looked upon, he started hastily back, and wounded, not the maiden, but himself, with his arrow. Happy, and yet wretched in his love (for he knew his mother too well to fancy that she would relent toward the offending Psyche), he stole away; and for days he did not go near his mother, knowing that she would demand of him the outcome of his mission.

Meanwhile the old king, feeling that disgrace rested on his family because no man had come to seek Psyche in marriage, sent messengers to ask of the oracle [Footnote: An oracle was a place where some G.o.d answered questions about future happenings. The same name was also given to the answers made by the G.o.d. The most famous oracles were that of Jupiter at Dodona and that of Apollo at Delphi, the latter holding chief place. At Delphi there was a temple to Apollo built over a chasm in the mountain side from which came sulphurous fumes. A priestess took her seat on a tripod over this chasm, and the answers she gave to inquiries were supposed to be dictated by the G.o.d. These answers were almost always unintelligible, and even when interpreted by the priests were ambiguous and of little use. Nevertheless, the Greeks believed in oracles firmly, and never undertook any important work without first consulting one or more of them.] of Apollo whether he or his family had ignorantly offended any of the G.o.ds. Eagerly he watched for the return of the messengers, but as they came back the sight of their white faces told him that no favorable answer had been theirs.

"Pardon, O King," said the spokesman, "thy servants who bring thee ill news. We can but speak the words of the G.o.ds, which were these:

"'For hear thy doom; a rugged rock there is Set back a league from thine own palace fair; There leave the maid, that she may wait the kiss Of the fell monster that doth harbour there: This is the mate for whom her yellow hair And tender limbs have been so fashioned, This is the pillow for her lovely head.

"'And if thou sparest now to do this thing, I will destroy thee and thy land also, And of dead corpses shalt thou be the king, And stumbling through the dark land shalt thou go, Howling for second death to end thy woe; Live therefore as thou mayst and do my will, And be a king that men may envy still.'"

[Footnote: From William Morris's Earthly Paradise.]

Imagine the grief of the loving father at these words! Had the oracle but threatened punishment to him, he would have endured any torture before subjecting his child to such a fate; but as a king, he dared not bring ruin on all his people, who trusted him. Psyche, herself, numb with horror, commanded quietly that preparations be made for the procession which should accompany her to the rock described by the oracle. Some days later, this procession set out, the priests in their white robes preceding Psyche, who, in mourning garments, with bowed head and clasped hands, walked between her father and mother. Her parents bewailed their fate and clung to her, but she said only, "It is the will of the G.o.ds, and therefore must be."

At last the mountain top was reached, the last heart-breaking farewells were said, and the procession wound back toward the city, leaving Psyche alone. All the horror of her fate burst upon her as she stood on the bleak rock, and she raised her hands to heaven and cried.

Suddenly, however, it seemed to her that the breeze which blew past her murmured in her ear "Do not fear"; and certainly she felt herself being lifted gently and carried over mountain and valley and sea. At last, she was placed on a gra.s.sy bank, in a pleasant, flower-bright valley, and here she fell asleep, feeling quite safe after all her fears.

On awaking, she strolled about the lovely garden in which she found herself, wondering to see no one, though on all sides there were signs of work and care and thought. At the door of a palace, more gorgeous than any she had ever seen before, she paused, but soft voices called "Enter, beautiful maiden," and gentle hands, which she saw not, drew her within the door. While she gazed in wonder at the wrought golden pillars, the ivory and gold furnishings, the mosaic of precious stones which formed the floor, a voice said, close beside her:

"Sovereign lady, let not fear oppress thee: All is thine on which thine eye doth rest.

We, whose voices greet thee, are thy servants-- Thou art mistress here, not pa.s.sing guest.

In thy chamber, bed of down awaits thee; Perfumed baths our skilled hands prepare."

As she had slept in the garden, Psyche felt no need of rest, but pa.s.sed at once to the refreshment of the bath. Then, for she had eaten nothing since the oracle's decree, she seated herself at the table and ate of the delicious dishes which the invisible hands presented to her. Swiftly the remaining hours of daylight pa.s.sed, while the amazed and enraptured Psyche wandered about the palace and listened to the exquisite music which invisible performers furnished for her.

With the coming of the darkness, the voice which had spoken to her at her entrance said, "Our master comes!" And shortly after, he began to speak to her himself. At the first tones of his gentle, loving voice, Psyche forgot her fears, forgot the oracle; and when her unseen lover said, "Canst thou love me somewhat in return for all the love I give thee?" she answered, "Willingly!"

"Thou mayest have all the joys which earth and heaven afford; one thing only I ask of thee in return. I shall come to thee with the darkness, and never shalt thou try to see my face."

Psyche promised, and she kept her promise faithfully for a long time, though her longing to see the husband who was so good to her was great. During the hours when he was with her, she was perfectly happy, but through the long days, when she had nothing but the voices that had greeted her on her arrival, and her own thoughts for company, she longed and longed to see her sisters, and to send to her parents news of her happiness. One night when her husband came, she begged of him that he would allow her sisters to visit her.

"Art thou not happy with me, Pysche?" he asked sorrowfully. "Do I not fill thy heart as thou fillest mine?"

"I am happier with thee than ever happy girl was with seen lover,"

replied Psyche, "but my parents and my sisters are yet in sorrow over my fate, and my heart tells me it is selfishness for me to be so happy while they grieve for me."

At last, her husband gave a reluctant consent to her request, and on the very next day, the West Wind, [Footnote: The winds, four in number, were the sons of Aeolus, G.o.d of the storm and of winds. Their names were Boreas, the north wind; Zephyrus, the west wind; Auster, the south wind, and Eurus, the east wind.] who had brought Psyche to this retreat, brought her two sisters and set them down at her door.

Joyfully Psyche led them in, and she commanded her invisible servants to serve them with the finest foods and entertain them with the most exquisite music. After the meal was over, the happy girl conducted them about the palace and pointed out to them all its treasures. She was not proud or boastful; she only wanted to show them how kind and thoughtful her husband was. But the sights that met their eyes filled them with envy, and when Psyche left the room to make some further plans for their comfort, one said to the other: