Opera Stories from Wagner Part 7

He was faint and needed help."

"And did you give it?" growled the chieftain.

"I gave him water. I could not drive him out into the stormy night."

The chieftain grew dark with anger as he said: "Because it is the sacred law of my country that none shall be turned from the door who seek shelter from the night, this intruder may stay until the morning. Then he shall fight for his life."

Siegmund knew now that he was in the house of the fierce Hunding.

Taking the woman by the arm, Hunding led her from the room, and Siegmund was left alone to think how he might save himself.

Long he leaned upon the hearth in troubled silence. Then, knowing he must flee, he turned toward the door.

That moment the last flickering light of the dying fire flashed upon the hilt of the magic sword in the ash tree.

Siegmund saw it, and, springing forward, he grasped its hilt. Then, bracing himself against the tree, with one mighty pull, behold! he drew the bright blade from its sheath.

THE WAR-MAIDENS

Wotan gathered to Valhalla a company of nine war-maidens. They were called the Walkuere.

They were strong, beautiful young women, who rode through the clouds upon swift horses.

The horses could not only run on the ground; they could fly through the air.

The maidens wore wings upon their helmets, and each wore a splendid silver armor which glittered and flashed in the sunshine.

Wherever there was a battle on the earth, Wotan would send a battle-maiden for the most valiant hero on the field.

The maiden would fly over the battlefield and watch while the warriors fought.

When the bravest man was wounded, she would quickly swoop down, and, s.n.a.t.c.hing him up, would fly with him to Valhalla, where he was revived by fair Freya.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Sometimes, when evening came, every one of the war-maidens rode into Valhalla carrying a n.o.ble hero.

This was Wotan's plan for protecting the palace.

After a while he would have at the castle a company of the bravest heroes of the earth.

He hoped he would then be happier.

The heroes would protect the beautiful Valhalla in time of danger.

WOTAN'S WIFE

Morning dawned.

The king of the giants went forth from his castle and called Brunhilde, his favorite battle-maiden.

He loved Brunhilde more than any other of the Walkuere.

She was the bravest of them all.

He loved her as a father loves a daughter.

"Brunhilde," said Wotan, "to-day there is to be a fearful battle. The fierce Hunding is to fight with my dearest friend--the valiant Siegmund.

"Long have I wished to have my n.o.ble friend at Valhalla. Fly, Brunhilde, to the battlefield. Give to Siegmund the victory. Carry him here to dwell upon the heights."

At that moment Wotan's wife rushed to them in great anger.

"Wotan," she cried, "Siegmund must not be brought to Valhalla. I ask that my friend, the forest chief, shall be given aid. Send Brunhilde to bear Hunding to our castle."

"No," replied Wotan, "I must protect Siegmund. He it is who won my sword."

"Take the sword from him," replied Wotan's wife in rage. "I plead for Hunding's rights. Promise me that you will forbid your war-maiden to give aid to Siegmund."

Wotan's heart ached at the thought of failing this friend he loved so well.

On Siegmund were centered all his hopes. Yet he feared to refuse his wife's request.

Quarrels and strife must not come into Valhalla.

He threw himself upon a rocky seat and hung his head and thought in silence.

At length he said:--

"I promise. From Siegmund I withdraw my aid."

WOTAN AND BRUNHILDE

Now that Wotan's wife had gained his promise, she turned back to Valhalla.

Wotan buried his face in his hand and cried out in despair:--

"Oh, woe and shame upon the giants! What I love best I must give up. I lose the friend I hold most dear. All my hopes are vanishing. A short time and the giants will be no more."

Loudly he moaned: "This is the curse that clutched me when I s.n.a.t.c.hed the glittering gold."

Brunhilde knelt at Wotan's feet, and, looking into his sad eyes begged:--

"Tell me, Father, what thy child can do. Trust me, Father!" she pleaded.

"Tell me all your woe."