  Again the Spring had come. Frigga, the radiant Earth-goddess, had decked meadow, hill, and vale with bloom and verdure, and summoned the various warblers of grove and wood. One mild evening Ingeborg and Frithiof repaired with Hilding to a hillside overlooking the sea and seated themselves on the mossy stones. There, while the waves roared at their feet, the master told them of the gentle god Balder, and how envy and malice brought him to his death. “Balder was a son of the all-powerful Odin and the fair Earth-goddess Frigga, beautiful as the day and so bright that a shining splendor surrounded him as he traversed the dome of heaven on his white steed, swifter than thought. All evil, hatred, and strife were abhorrent to him. Eloquent, wise, mild, and just, he ever sought to promote peace, to avert misfortune, and to ease pain and sorrow. Sometimes, assuming human shape, he would mingle in the combat, but never, even in the heat of battle, did he lift his sword against a mortal. Though the other gods often took part in the strife of men, ’twas to do good alone that drew Balder to the field of battle. Once on a hot summer’s day it chanced some warriors were perishing for want of water; whereupon he thrust his spear into the ground, and a cool spring gushed forth, while others welled up wherever his horse’s hoofs had trodden. These springs were inexhaustible and still exist, surrounded by sacred groves, wherein the beneficent god will be worshipped to the end of time. Equally gentle and lovely was his spouse Nanna, and far above the clouds, whither the eye of man cannot penetrate, they dwelt in their palace, Silvery Lustre, where nothing evil or impure can ever enter. “Balder was beloved by all the gods and goddesses save only Loke, the ever-evil, who hated him. One night Balder dreamed that some danger threatened his life, and so alarming was this dream that he could not shake off its shadow, but sad and heavy-hearted, thought only of approaching evil. Sorrow seized not only upon Nanna, his loving wife, but upon all the gods and goddesses, when they learned of the dark forebodings that filled Balder’s soul. In vain did Odin, his father, spend many days and nights in thought; in vain did he take counsel with the other gods and consult his two wise ravens, who see into the past and future, as to the nature of the danger that threatened his beloved son. At last he determined to undertake the perilous journey to the abode of the goddesses of Fate. Rising from his shining throne, he left the palace, mounted his fire-breathing celestial steed that stood before the door, and, followed by the two ravens and the two wolves who are his constant companions, flew like lightning through the space betwixt heaven and earth and soon reached the path that leads to the kingdom of the pale goddess, Hel, in the terrible underworld. “Far down below Valhalla, the golden palace of the gods, whither heroes are borne by Odin’s battle-maidens, the Valkyrs, on their winged steeds, lies the dread realm of shadows where abides the inexorable Hel. Loke is her father; her mother—the giantess Angurboda, is a sister of the frightful wolf Fenris and the earth-enveloping serpent. Woe, thrice woe to him who descends into the cold mist-kingdom of the goddess of death! Misery is her Hall, Ruin her Threshold, Pining Sickness her Bed, and Danger the Curtains thereof. Sloth is her Thrall, and Despair her Handmaiden. She eats from the Dish Hunger with the Knife of Famine. “To this terrible place Odin now took his way. The path, which no living man had ever trodden, led between frightful abysses and icy crags. But he heeded not these terrors nor the furious yelping and snapping of the death-hounds, intent only on learning what evil threatened his favorite son. At last he reached the spot where dwelt the goddesses of Fate, and at the first gray Rune-stone he swung himself from his steed. Below it had lain for a thousand years the Norn who reads the future; while about the desolate tomb the wind moaned through the leafless branches and whirled aloft the parching sand. Odin drew his sword and inscribed thrice with it a Runic sentence in the sand. Then he shouted thrice the Runic call which, uttered by the lips of a god, has power to wake the dead within their graves. In dull, hollow tones a voice answered from the depths: What mystic spell of sternest might Penetrates the dungeon’s night? Stirs me from my sleep of old? Who art thou, O stranger bold? Go! let me rest, for here below Through Winter’s snows and Summer’s glow, Through dripping dew and streaming rain, A thousand years I now have lain. Ruthless thou stirrest the dead’s deep rest— Who mayst thou be, thou stranger guest? “And Odin answered: A wanderer I, unknown my name; A warrior’s son, untold my fame; Of the upper world I would not know, But fain would seek of those below. For whom is the glittering table spread? For whom prepared the golden bed? “Again the hollow tones responded: Sawest thou not in beaker bright Draught of sweet mead, foaming light? O’er it hangs the golden shield Warrior’s arm no more shall wield! Balder’s coming these betoken; Balder’s death doom hath been spoken! This rede reluctant have I told— Now get thee gone, thou stranger bold. Leave the weary to her rest And come no more, whate’er thy quest. “Down in the abyss the mists rolled and parted, permitting Odin for an instant to gaze into the joyless realm of death, and he saw that all was indeed made ready to receive his beloved son. With the tears starting to his eyes he mounted his steed and turned sadly homeward. Loud cries of woe broke from the waiting gods and goddesses when Odin told them the saying of the Norn. Vainly they sought some means by which the doom of their favorite might be averted, till at last Frigga bethought her of a plan, which was hailed with joy by all. As mistress of the earth, she bound by oath everything that existed thereon, fire and water, iron and all the other metals, rock and soil, bush and tree, all disease or poison, with all created beings of the earth, the air, and the water,—not to harm her son. Alone of the tender mistletoe that hangs from the bough, she took no oath, for from that she feared nothing. “Deeming their favorite safe from harm, the gods in their joy began to sport with him. Some flung sharp-pointed spears at him, and lo! they fell harmless to the ground. Others smote his uncovered head with their keen blades, yet not a hair of his head was injured. Bright and laughing as a fair spring morning, the god stood in their midst, catching the hissing darts and lances in his hands. Their joyous cries at last reached the ears of Loke, whose only pleasure it was to awaken strife and discontent within the hearts of gods and men, and he hastened thither to blight, if it might be, these heaven-born flowers of joy. Taking the form of an aged dame with a staff in her trembling hand, he approached the goddess Frigga, and said: “‘Tell me, I pray thee, O watchful Earth-mother, wherefore the gods are glad, so that I may share their joy.’ “Frigga replied: ‘All nature has sworn to me to do no harm to my son Balder. His life was in great peril, but now shall the Norn’s rede be brought to naught, nor shall he descend into the kingdom of pale Hel.’ “But Loke asked: ‘Didst thou take oath of everything upon the earth?’ “And Frigga answered: ‘Of all save the tender mistletoe that grows east of Valhalla: from that surely there is naught to fear.’ “Now was Loke rejoiced, for mistletoe causes the death of the tree from which it draws its life. Slipping softly out from the gates of Valhalla, he hastened to where it grew, and, breaking it off, fashioned from the tough stem a dart which he sharpened to the keenest point. Then, as the old woman, he again joined the circle of the gods still busy with their sports. Perceiving HÖder, the blind god, who stood apart listening to his companion’s joyous cries but unable to share their sports, he drew near and said to him: “‘Why dost thou too not hurl the spear or speed the dart?’ “‘Alas! How can I?’ replied HÖder. ‘Were not the light gone from my eyes, gladly would I also do honor to Balder.’ “‘Nay, then, that thou shalt,’ said Loke. ‘Take thy bow and this dart; I will guide its flight for thee.’ “HÖder did as he was bid, and down sank Balder lifeless to the ground. “This was the greatest misfortune which had ever befallen the gods in Valhalla. For a space they stood horror-stricken, gazing at the corpse of the gentle god. Then the vaulted halls echoed to their cries of woe. Beyond all words was their grief and anguish. At length they bethought them to seek the author of the evil deed; but vengeance was beyond their power, for Odin’s palace is a sanctuary. Moreover, Loke had vanished. With sighs and lamentations they bore the beloved dead to the seashore, where, drawn up on rollers, stood Balder’s ship. On this his body was to be burned. But all the efforts of the gods were powerless to stir the mighty vessel from its place; whereupon they summoned the giantess Hyrrocken (Fire Whirlwind) to their aid. A rushing sound was heard as she came with streaming hair, riding a great wolf bridled with a serpent. “Laying her mighty hands upon the ship she pushed it into the sea with such force that sparks flew from the rollers. Seized with rage and chagrin at this, Thor lifted his hammer to shatter the head of the witch, but the other gods hastened to pacify him, and then a fresh misfortune befell. The heart of Balder’s blooming wife Nanna burst with its load of sorrow, and she sank lifeless into the arms of Frigga. The bodies of the youthful pair thus united by death were laid upon the funeral pyre that had been raised within the ship, and consumed amid the lamentations of all the gods. This is the story of Balder’s death, which brought sorrow and mourning into Odin’s halls of joy.” With rapture Ingeborg and Frithiof had listened to old Hilding’s tale, while far in the distance they heard the rumbling of Thor’s chariot, in which the God of Thunder rides upon the clouds, and saw the flickering lights that follow the blows of his hammer. Tears glistened in Ingeborg’s eyes, and even Frithiof’s heart was moved. Presently they arose and turned their faces homeward. Ingeborg retired to her chamber, while Frithiof and Hilding seated themselves on cushions before a table upon which burned a taper. Suddenly Frithiof spoke: “Terrible indeed must be the abode of the goddess Hel; yet gladly would I die and descend thither could I but know that Ingeborg would mourn for me as Nanna mourned for Balder!” Hilding was amazed at this speech. “Alas! my son,” he said, “can it be that thou art cherishing a love for Ingeborg? Never can it bring thee happiness. Bethink thee! King Bele’s ancestors are descended from the gods, while thou art but the son of a yeoman. From the sons of princes will Bele choose a son-in-law, nor mayst thou ever hope to wed his child.” Frithiof laughed and his eyes flashed as he answered, “The gods take no heed of rank. With them valor is all. They will spurn him who fails in courage, even though he be of their own blood; but him who strives with all his soul to imitate them in godlike deeds they will hold in honor. The fame I have already won for myself by slaying the beasts of the forest shall count as much for me as if my ancestral line stretched up to Odin’s halls!” “Alas for this love of thine!” cried Hilding. “I fear me ’twill bear thee naught but thorns. My old eyes were dim that I saw not what mischief was brewing.” “Nay, father, say not so!” answered Frithiof. “Never till this day have I thought to win Ingeborg for my wife. ’Tis but now my heart hath revealed its yearnings for her and her alone in all the world. But I swear to thee by all the gods that never shall her image be banished thence. If need be, my sword shall be my wooer. Aye! I would contend for her with the Thunder-God himself; nor will I give her up so long as life shall last. Yet of this I will say naught to her father, but sue for her in due form after the manner of our forefathers.” As Frithiof thus spoke, Ingeborg sat in her chamber, her thoughts also busy with him. In his form she seemed to see the fair young god Balder, and prayed the gods to guard the noble youth and grant him fame and honor. |
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