CHAPTER XVI.

How the dominion of Gerda was overthrown.

Now they came through the gate on the north side of the altar, and the soft gleams of the moonlight fell cool and refreshingly on their pale visages. At the same time, to their great astonishment, the air that they here breathed was like that of spring-tide; and, behold! green boughs, as in the month of May, were waving round the altar.--“What means this?” said the sea-monarch; “when we entered here last night, the ground lay under the cold crackling shroud of snow and ice; now the moonlight plays on luxuriant grass and verdant foliage.”--“Alas! my friends,” answered Sir Archimbald, “many weeks have indeed passed away since you were first bound by the fetters of enchantment in the witch’s cavern. Now the brightness and warmth of spring are again restored to the Hartz forest.” Sir Otto, meanwhile, was gazing on the moon’s beautiful crescent, and started as he thought of Hildiridur.--“Good Heaven!” cried he, “and has she then been left for such a length of time in the charcoal-man’s cottage, and exposed to every attack from the hobgoblins and evil spirits of this forest?”--“Now, mark you,” said the sea-monarch to Sir Archimbald, “he speaks of his mother.”--“I know it well,” answered Sir Archimbald, “and she is safe in my castle. It was my chance to find Hildiridur in the charcoal-man’s hut, a few days after you had left her there, and I prevailed on her to go with me, that she might be properly lodged and attended under my roof. Good Heaven! she is indeed like a living image of the Blessed Virgin, whose portrait every good Christian carries deeply imprinted on his heart. Her silent tears and sighs were at last so moving, that I was determined to set out on the adventure which brought me to join you in the witch’s cavern. Swerker and the squires, who joined us before we left the cottage of the charcoal-burner, have remained, along with my own soldiers, to guard Hildiridur in the castle; for, in truth, such a pearl or diamond of surpassing worth cannot be too anxiously watched over and protected.” Hereupon Sir Otto could not answer in words, but only seized and pressed his hand in token of gratitude; for the feverish weariness that followed his severe wounds now weighed so heavily upon him, that at last he fell fainting to the ground, on the same mossy couch whereon they had laid the body of Sir Heerdegen. Thereafter Archimbald blew his signal-horn, and some squires hastened up, leading his war-steed. At once Sir Otto recognised the same foaming charger, with the silver head-gear, which he had long ago seen on the level meadows under the castle of Trautwangen; and it seemed as if, in a fairy-dream, the apparitions of his early youth were once more assembled around him. Meanwhile Sir Archimbald had given orders to his squires, that they should cut down trees and green branches, of which they were to make two biers,--one for the dead, and another for the wounded knight, Otto von Trautwangen. At the same time he sent out a messenger to the fortress of Waldeck, to make known their speedy arrival, and announce to Hildiridur her son’s rescue.

During all these occurrences, Gerda had stood timidly retired among the thickets, till at length she lifted up her voice, and said, in a mournful tone, “Alas! might I not go with you?” “Wherefore not?” said Sir Archimbald kindly, and as if moved by her grief; “thou shalt indeed travel with us; only there are three conditions that I have in the first place to propose, and these are of no little importance.” “Tell me then what they are,” said Gerda; “for know that I am able to do much for thy sake!” “Well,” said the count, “in the first place, thou shalt make a solemn vow never more in our good realm of Saxony to use enchantment or invocation of evil spirits.” “This promise or vow I shall make right willingly,” said Gerda, at the same time laying her beautiful white hand on the iron-glove of Sir Archimbald. “Alas!” said the knight, “thy promises are indeed courteous and well-sounding; but who can say if we dare trust to thy words?” Thereupon Gerda unbound her long hair, so that her glossy yellow locks fell like a golden garment around her, and Sir Otto had almost inquired of the sea-monarch, whether this were not Sigurd’s daughter, the far-famed Aslauga; for as the enchantress stood thus before him with her dishevelled ringlets, the old legends that he had heard from Asmundur mingled strangely with his feverish dreams. There was no time left for questions, however; for the damsel began to wave her enchanting rod over her head: then she uttered a long musical address to the world of spirits; in her song she admonished them, that from henceforward they were free to wander at will by sea or land, by fire or by flood; for she had abdicated her throne, and renounced her dominion. With these words she broke her sceptre of medlar-tree; the fragments flew asunder, as if borne by all the four winds of heaven; and there was a wondrous rustling and murmuring both on the earth and in the sky, as if great multitudes were dispersing angrily and discontented. When this noise had past away, Gerda said to Sir Archimbald, “Now, indeed, the interval would be long ere I dared to think again of my wonted enchantments; for if I sought to lay new bonds on the slaves whom I have thus dismissed, they would not fail to turn round and rend me in pieces. So thou hast now before thee a damsel even as weak and powerless as any one that could be found in the world.” “In this action thou hast been too rash,” said Sir Archimbald; “for now thou can’st never fulfil the second condition that I had to propose. This was, that the altar of Freia should be destroyed, and all the vaulted caverns, with the subterraneous fortress and its iron-bridge, should be laid in ruins.” “As for that conclusion, thou need’st not fear,” said Gerda; “without my commands their destruction will soon follow; the altar is already tottering on its foundation, and has been upheld so long but by my powerful spells. If Kolbein has succeeded in finding an outlet, (for Ottur is on a distant campaign,) then immediately the whole fabric, both above and below ground, will fall to ruin. Mark you, the work already has begun!”

In truth there was at that moment heard beneath them a crashing sound, like that of falling rocks and pillars, as if the very foundations of the earth were giving way. The knights looked astonished at each other; even Sir Otto was startled, and half raised himself up. “Fear not,” said Gerda, “the ground on which we stand is firm and secure; only my grand vaulted roof and my fortress are destroyed, and the power of Gerda is established against mine: let no one go too near the altar, however, for there he might indeed run some risk.” Not long after, while the subterraneous thunder still continued, lo! the stones of the altar began to move and roll asunder, as if they had now been changed into living beings, and fled terrified from some danger that awaited them. All at once, indeed, the bottomless abyss beneath them opened its yawning jaws; with a hideous crash they fell into the chasm; blue flames rose flickering over them, and after a space they too disappeared. “These,” said Gerda, “were the souls of the unfortunate victims who were of old times offered up in sacrifice at this altar; not indeed of all the victims, but of those only who did not meet their fate with courage and resignation.”

“Truly, however,” added she, with a sigh, “I am not to blame for this; nor have I ever offered to the invisible powers such frightful sacrifices; and many hundred years have passed away since their blood was shed.” “Who could suppose that one so beautiful as thou art would command such horrid deeds?” said Sir Archimbald. “Thou shalt indeed go with us on our route homewards; only the third condition that I had to impose is yet to be fulfilled.” With these words he drew his battle-sword, and struck it into the ground.

“Lo!” said he, “there is the sacred symbol of the cross. Kneel down before it, and pray to the Giver of all Good!”

Hereupon Gerda started back, shuddering with terror, and, without uttering a word, vanished away into the thickets. “From mine inmost heart I am grieved for that damsel,” said Sir Archimbald, as he replaced his sword in the scabbard. Then perceiving that the squires were ready with the biers, he gently placed the wounded Sir Otto on one of them, and covered him carefully with a mantle. Thereafter a horse was provided for the sea-monarch; and their march began slowly and solemnly down towards the plains, where stood the proud castle of De Waldeck.