The Scarlet Banner Part 24

Both took their seats by the open window again. Once more Eugenia's glance, still in vain, often flitted over the courtyard, and while the two were industriously embroidering, the Princess began:

"It was in ancient times: when eagles shrieked, holy waters flowed from heavenly mountains. Far, far away from here, in the Land of Thule in Scandinavia, a n.o.ble hero was born of the Wolsung race. His name was Helgi, and he had no peer on earth. When, after great victories over the Hundings, the hereditary foes of his family, he sat resting on a rock in the fir-woods, light suddenly burst from the sky, from whose radiance beams darted like shining lances, and from the clouds rode the Valkyries, who--according to the beautiful religion of our ancestors--are hero-maidens who decide the destinies of battle, and bear the fallen heroes up to the shield-wainscoted halls of the G.o.d of victory. They rode in helmets and breastplates; flames blazed at the points of their spears. One of them, Sigrun, came to the lonely warrior, clasped his hand, greeted him, and kissed his lips beneath his helmet, and they loved each other deeply.

"But Sigrun's father had betrothed her to another, and Helgi was compelled to wage a hard battle for his love. He killed her lover, her father, and all her brothers except one. Sigrun herself, hovering in the clouds, had given him the victory, and she became his wife, though he had slain her father and her brothers. But soon Helgi, the beloved hero, was murdered by the one brother whom he had spared. True, the a.s.sa.s.sin tried to make amends to the widow; but she cursed him, saying: 'May the ship that carries you never move forward, though a fair wind is blowing! May the steed that bears you stop running, when you are fleeing from your foes! May the sword you wield cease to cut, and may it whirl around your own head! May you live in the world without peace, as the hunted wolf wanders through the forest!' Disdaining all comfort, she tore her hair, saying: 'Woe betide the widow who accepts consolation! She never knew love, for love is eternal. Woe to the wife who has lost her husband! Her heart is desolate; why should she live on?'"

Eugenia softly repeated the words: "Woe betide the widow who accepts consolation! She never knew love, for love is eternal. Woe to the wife who has lost her husband! Her heart is desolate; why should she live on?"

"'Helgi towered above all other heroes, as the ash towers above thorns and thistles. For the widow there remains but one spot on earth--her husband's grave. Sigrun will no longer find pleasure in this world, unless perchance a light should burst from the doors of his tomb, and I might again embrace him.'

"And so mighty, so all-constraining is the longing of the true widow, that it will even break the power of death. In the evening a maid-servant came running to Sigrun, saying: 'Hasten forth, if you wish to have your husband again. Look! the mound has opened; a light is streaming from it; your longing has brought the hero from the heaven of the G.o.d of victory; he is sitting in the mound and beseeches you to stanch his bleeding wounds.'"

Eugenia, in a low, trembling voice, repeated: "The longing of the true widow will even break the power of death."

"Sigrun went in to Helgi, kissed him, stanched his wounds, and said: 'Your locks are drenched with moisture; you are covered with blood; your hands are cold--how shall I keep you?' 'You are the sole cause,'

he replied. 'You shed so many tears, and each fell a blood-stain upon Helgi's breast.' 'Then I will weep no more,' she cried; 'but will rest upon your heart, as I did in life.' 'You will remain in the mound with me, in the arms of the dead, though you still live,' cried Helgi, exultingly.

"You will remain in the mound, in the arms of the dead, though you still live," Eugenia repeated.

"But the legend relates that when Sigrun also died, both were born again: he a victorious hero, but she a Valkyrie. This is the ballad of how a woman's true love, a widow's true anguish, conquers death, and, in omnipotent yearning, even forces a pa.s.sage into the grave to the beloved one."

"And in omnipotent yearning forces a pa.s.sage into the grave to the beloved one."

Hilda looked up suddenly. "Child, what is the matter?" The Princess had spoken with such enthusiasm that at last she paid no heed to her listener. But now she heard a low sob, and, in bewilderment, saw the Greek kneeling on the floor, bending forward over the stool, hiding her lovely face in both hands; tears were streaming between the slender fingers.

"Eugenia!"

"O Hilda, it is so beautiful. It must be so blissful to be loved! And it is also happiness to love unto death. Oh, happy Gibamund's Hilda!

Oh, happy Helgi's Sigrun! How this song makes the heart ache and yet rejoice! How beautiful and, alas, how true it is, that love conquers all things, and draws the loving woman to her beloved, even to his grave! They are united in death, if no longer in life. That thought possesses stronger power than spell or magnet."

"O sister, does this little heart love so strongly, so fervently, so genuinely? Speak freely at last. Not a single word during all these days have you--"

"I could not! I was so ashamed for myself, and, alas! for him. And I dare not speak of my love! It is a disgrace and shame. For he, my bridegroom,--no, my husband,--does not love me!"

"Indeed he does love you, or why should the reckless n.o.ble have wooed you so humbly?"

"Alas, I do not know. Hundreds of times during the last few days have I asked myself that question. I do not know. True, I believed--until the day before yesterday--it was from love. And often this foolish heart believes it still. But, no, it was not love. Caprice weariness--perhaps," and now she trembled wrathfully, "a wager,--a game that he desired to win and which lost its charm as soon as he succeeded."

"No, my little dove! Thrasaric is incapable of that."

"Oh, yes, oh, yes!" Eugenia sobbed despairingly. "He is capable of it."

"I do not believe it," said the Princess, and, sitting down beside her, she lifted the forsaken little bride into her arms as if she were a child, dried her wet cheeks with the folds of her own white mantle, stroked her burning lids, smoothed her tangled hair, pressed the little head to her soft bosom, and rocked gently to and fro, saying soothingly: "Everything will be well again, little one, and soon; for he does love you. That is certain."

A suppressed sob and a slight shake of the head said, No!

"Certain! I do not know, nor do I wish to know, what that woman hissed into your ear. But I saw how it wounded you, like a poisoned arrow.

Whatever it may be--"

"I will never, never, never tell!" the girl fairly shrieked.

"I do not wish to know, I told you. Whatever his guilt may be, the Christians have a beautiful saying: 'Love beareth all things.'"

"Love beareth all things," murmured Eugenia. "But, of course, love only. Tell me, little sister, do you really love him?"

The weeping girl, springing from the Princess's clasping arms, stood erect, and stretching both arms wide exclaimed, in a low tone, "Alas!

Unspeakably!" and threw herself again on her friend's breast. Her large soft eyes sparkled through her tears as she went on in a low whisper, as though fearing that strangers might hear in the secluded chamber: "That is my sweet secret,--the secret of my shame." She smiled radiantly. "I loved him long ago, I believe even as a child. When he came to my father to buy grain for his villas, he lifted me in his strong arms like a feather, until I--gradually--forbade it. The older I grew, the more ardently I loved, and therefore the more timidly I avoided him. Oh, do not betray it as long as you live--when he seized me, bore me away in the public street--fiercely as my wrath, my honor rebelled, deeply as I suffered from pity for my father--yet yet--yet! While struggling desperately in his iron arms, screaming for help--yet!--in the midst of all the mortal fright and anger, there blazed here in my heart, secretly, a warm, happy, blissful emotion: 'He loves me; he tortures me from love!' And, amid all the keen suffering, I was happy, nay, proud, that he dared so bold a deed for love of me!

Can you understand, can you forgive that?"

Hilda smiled bewitchingly: "Forgive? No! I am utterly bewildered with sheer pleasure. Forgive _me_, little one. I had not expected from you so much genuine, ardent woman's love! But, you obstinate little creature, you hypocrite,--why did you so long conceal and deny your feelings toward him from your father and your friend?"

"Why? That is perfectly plain," exclaimed the girl, indignantly. "From embarra.s.sment and shame. It is terrible, it is a frightful disgrace, for a young girl, instead of hating the man who seized her in the public market-place, and even kissed her at the same time, to love him.

It is utterly abominable."

Half weeping, half smiling, she hid her face on her friend's breast, tenderly kissing a little gold cross that she wore round her neck attached to a thin silver chain, and lovingly pressing to her bosom a bronze semi-circle, inscribed with runes, that she wore on her arm.

"His betrothal and, alas, his marriage gift," she sighed.

"Yes, you love him deeply," said Hilda, smiling. "And he? He sent my Gibamund to me with frequent messages of the anguish he was suffering, and he was as grateful as a blind man who has been restored to sight when I told him that he was indeed wholly unworthy of you; but if he really desired to win you for his wife, he must ask you if you would wed him, and then beg your father for your hand. This simple bit of wisdom made him as happy as a child. He followed the counsel, and now--"

"Now?" Eugenia interrupted, in almost comical indignation. "Now he has not been seen at all for nearly three days. Who knows how far away he may be?"

"Not very far," cried Hilda, laughing; "he is just riding into the courtyard below."

Eugenia's little head was at the window like a flash of lightning. A half-stifled cry of joy escaped her lips, then she instantly stooped again.

"Oh, oh, how magnificent he looks!" cried Hilda, clasping her hands with the most joyful surprise. "In full, heavy armor, a huge bear-head with gaping jaws on his helmet--"

"Oh, yes! He killed it himself on the Auras Mountain," murmured the little bride.

"And how the skin floats around his mighty shoulders! He carries a spear as thick as a sapling, and on his shield--What is the emblem? A stone-hammer?"

"Yes, yes," cried Eugenia, eagerly, lifting her head cautiously to the window-sill, "that is his house-mark. His family descends, according to ancient tradition, from a red-bearded demon with a hammer--I don't remember the name."

"What demon?" exclaimed Hilda. "The G.o.d Donar is his ancestor, and Thrasaric does him honor. He is talking with Gibamund. They are looking up; he is saluting me. Oh dear, how pale and sad the poor giant looks!"

"Is that true?" The little brown head flew up again.

"Stoop, little one! He must not see that we are far less able to bear the yearning than he. My husband is waving his hand to me. He is coming upstairs; Thrasaric seems to be following him."

Eugenia had already vanished in the next room.

CHAPTER XXIV

Hilda flew to the threshold to meet her husband, and the young couple tenderly embraced.

"Are you alone?" asked Gibamund, glancing around him. "I thought I saw your little antelope at the window."