CHAPTER XXVI.

The Story of Hildiridur.

Ask yourselves, courteous readers,--all ye whose beloved parents are numbered with the dead,--what would be your feelings if a mother were thus restored to you, even in that hour when you had most need of consolation, and if thus all the pleasant dreams of childhood were brought again smiling around you? For you, however, who yet enjoy that unspeakable blessing, to walk in the light of a mother’s protecting and loving eyes, I would not awaken the frightful thought, that such happiness should ever be taken from you. Without this, you may know well how to sympathize with and to measure that balmy joy which was thus so unexpectedly poured into the bleeding heart of Sir Otto!--In the moon-like radiance of the Druda’s eyes, it seemed as if a whole garden of azure flowers, emblems of hope and confidence, once more sprung up around him. His mother’s well-known features now shone upon him as kindly and mildly as ever; not mournful and disfigured, as when he thought that she lay dying in the forest, nor pale and motionless as he had beheld her during his nightly watch in the chapel.

It was long before either of them could again speak calmly. Otto knelt before her, and could only say, “Oh! dearest--dearest mother!--how could’st thou remain so long concealed from one who so dearly loved thee! Heaven knows how many an hour I have spent in weeping thy loss and praying for thee!” Then, in their great joy and affection, they both continued silent, while Sir Heerdegen and the sea-monarch stood, one on each side, with clasped hands,--even as one oftentimes sees in ancient pictures and monuments the figures of devout champions, who stand in respectful meditation beside the divinely-inspired saints of the olden times.

At last Hildiridur dismissed the three knights, commanding that her son should come to her alone on the next day, that he might hear from his mother’s lips the eventful history of his parents. Rejoicing, and yet weeping in his gladness, Sir Otto rode homewards through the clear moonlight, while his faithful friends followed him, and in their hearts partook of all his emotion.

When they had arrived at the camp, there Swerker came riding towards them, threw himself from his horse, and would have held the stirrup while Sir Otto dismounted; but the latter said,--“Not so; for thou art not my squire, but my equal in rank, and shalt be my chosen comrade in the battle-field.”--“Nay,” answered Swerker, “this cannot be, for I am yet no Christian; and who knows whether in my whole life I shall ever become one?”--“On that score there need be no doubt,” said Sir Otto; “had we but a learned priest here among our troops, he would reveal to you our faith in all its divine beauty; and certainly you could not hesitate to believe in what he said.”--“Methinks,” answered the Swede, “the best of all methods, if I may venture so to speak, were, that you should yourself undertake the trouble of my conversion. It is better that one knight should always speak with another, and so, by expressing only the real feelings of our hearts, we shall at last agree well together. Should you prove to be in the right, then I am willing to become a Christian; if, on the other hand, my doctrines are better maintained, then you will join with us in our devotions to the great Odin, and the ancient gods of Valhalla.”

“Agreed!” said Sir Otto; “I shall take my chance as your instructor, and to-morrow at sunrise we shall hold our first meeting for this purpose. Even now, when Heaven, in his infinite wisdom, has in one and the same day so wounded and rejoiced my heart, methinks I shall in this attempt be successful.”

On the following day the two young heroes met and disputed vehemently together, whereupon Sir Otto felt strengthened in listening to the sound of his own voice, and by the self-consciousness of right which dwelt in his own heart. He felt assured, that he would ere long gain the victory; but, when evening approached, he failed not to remember his appointment, and set out alone towards the castle of Hildiridur.

The Druda met him on his arrival at the gate, and led him kindly and caressingly up stairs to the chamber with the round banquet-table, which on this evening was more cheerfully and pleasantly illuminated than ever. On the table, moreover, he saw many brilliant objects; there was a magnificent plume of feathers fastened together by a brooch of emerald; a large gold cross with a rich chain; a green velvet belt beautifully embroidered, and other accoutrements fit for a valiant knight of the highest rank.--“These shall all be thine, dearest son,” said she, while the tears glittered in her eyes. “Through so many years it has never been in my power to make thee a present, by way of kind remembrance, on thy birth-day, nor at Christmas-tide; and for this neglect I must now compensate as well as I can.”--With these words she began to attire her beloved son in the gold chain and belt, the plume of feathers, and other adornments, till at last he stood glittering like a fairy king before her. Once more she looked at him with that full expressive gaze, with which only a mother regards a dear child of whom she is justly proud; then invited the youth to take his place opposite to her at the table, and began to speak as follows:--

“Thy father, my beloved son, was brave and valiant indeed as thou art, but in temper not so mild and submissive. He was indeed a threatening and stern hero, of whom all, even those who most loved him, were afraid; for his character might well be compared to that of a burning summer’s day, now bright and beautiful, though we know not how soon it may change into a frightful thunder-storm. Thus it happened, that he overtook me in a bay of the North Sea, and, half by promises, half by threats, compelled me to become his wife. Even to this hour I tremble to think of the terror that I felt soon after. It was in Holland, where a grand festival had been given in honour of Sir Hugur. When he returned home from the banquet, he found in my chamber a long staff of oak-wood, with Runic characters carved thereon; and, suddenly changing his tone from that of loving confidence to bitter reproach and fierce anger, he said,---‘I have already heard, that thou art a powerful enchantress. Beware, however, how thou betrayest any tokens or symbols of such an art in my presence, for, should this ever happen again, I swear solemnly, that moment shall be the last of thy life!’

“Hastily, and without thought, I took up, in my terror, the Runic enchanting-rod, and threw it into the fire; whereupon such a terrific blaze arose, that the very walls of the chimney were rent asunder, and the fire spread so rapidly, that Hugur had scarcely time to snatch me, fainting with affright, in his arms, and bear me from the room. Would to Heaven that all my implements of enchantment had at the time been destroyed; and, above all, the fatal mirror which is now placed in the adjoining room, and which I was wont to carry with me, carefully packed, wherever I came! But the mystic spells that ruled therein made it impossible for the fire to injure the mirror, and much as I was afraid of Sir Hugur’s anger, I yet had not resolution to renounce all the secrets that I had learned during my abode in the distant snow-covered Iceland. Alas! my son, where an impulse and longing like that which I had felt towards these dark sciences are born with us, too often are we carried onward, notwithstanding all our struggles, even though we know well that it is to our own destruction. Yet I determined that the mirror, though it remained in my possession, should never be looked at or unveiled; for I could not but expect that Hugur, always incensed by the sight of such objects, would be more than ever enraged, if by any means he were reminded of what had happened with the Runic divining-rod. He paid a large sum of money to the proprietor of the house, according to his usual princely generosity, and thereafter we removed to the pleasant town of Coblentz, where the Mosel flows into the Rhine,--where the blooming fields and vine-covered mountains may vie in beauty with any which this world affords, those even of Asia not excepted.

“There, in a baronial fortress, not far from the town, which mansion was situated on a hill covered with fruit-trees, and commanding the loveliest prospects along both rivers, wert thou, my beloved son, brought into the world. In the sweet unconsciousness of infancy, thou wert wont to smile in thy cradle, from the high balcony of the castle, on the beautiful world full of light, blossoms and fragrance which then lay around thee; but young, and seemingly unconscious as thou wert, I doubt not that sweet influences, derived from these early dreams, yet steal upon the both in thine hours of waking and of sleep.”

“Truly, dearest mother,” replied Sir Otto, “thy words have recalled to me forms and feelings that lay deep--deeply implanted, though but dimly understood, within my heart. But after I had learned better to perceive what passed around me, did we not travel farther?--Did not our way lead over lofty cliffs covered with vines, full of rich clusters?--and did we not once stand looking down fearfully at a great foaming cataract?--Methinks I yet hear its mighty voice!--or was this, perchance, a thunder-storm among the mountains, with its blue and white clouds, which my wild fantasy had confused with the notion of falling water?”

“Nay, dear son,” answered Hildiridur, “that was indeed the magnificent Rhein-fall at Schaffhausen. I remember well, how joyfully thou didst clasp thy hands, and tried, after thine own manner, to shout aloud; and though thy voice was unheard amid the roaring of the falling torrents, the pleasure with which thou wert animated sparkled in thine eyes; yet all this while the boards on which we stood shook beneath us; and at length the stern Sir Hugur was so delighted with thy courage, that he kissed both his wife and child, and exclaimed,--‘That is my brave son,--a true scion of the old northern tree!--Thanks to thee, far-famed and majestic Rhine, for the trial which thou hast now afforded me of his spirit!’--Truly thou art but little changed since that time, if I might say so of one who has been transformed from a blooming boy into a warlike knight; but at the first glance I could not but recognise thy features.”

“And yet thou could’st remain so long concealed from me,” said Sir Otto mournfully, “and I have been so long denied that confidence in which I now so much rejoice!”

“My son,” answered Hildiridur, “to one who is ever led, as I have been, to look over deeply into the mysteries of nature and the world of spirits, the knowledge so acquired often proves a heavy and almost insupportable burden. Already have I spoken to this effect with thy cousin Bertha, when she came to my castle in East Friesland. Thus, while free-hearted champions, such as thou art, are pursuing their own path to glory and conquest, and are guided by their own impulses, there are deep mysterious signs and admonitions by which we, who are endowed with supernatural gifts, are made aware, that we must submit to the conditions of that destiny which Providence has decreed for us. The fitting hour was not yet come.”

“But is it possible,” inquired Sir Otto, “that you have heretofore looked upon Ottur, my strange double-goer, whose name I have now bestowed on my sword, as your son?”

“Truly there have been moments when I have thus acknowledged him,” said Hildiridur; “but at length I perceived only too well who he really is. Thou also wilt soon become acquainted with this mystery; for my story draws near to the fatal hour, when it was to me clearly revealed, how frightfully his fate was intwined with thine and with my own.”

“For three years we had now wandered about through the blooming mountains and valleys of Germany, when in your father’s heart there arose at length the ardent longing after his native land. In the German districts he no longer bore his Norwegian name of the stern Sir Hugur, but was called Sir Hugh von Trautwangen, and I also was accustomed to address him by this title, forming at the same time in my own mind delightful pictures of Trautwangen in Swabia, where I had never yet been. It was enough for me that its name was ever joined with that of my husband, who was dearer to me than all the world. I longed, therefore, in joyful anticipation, to reach the Swabian fortress, and yet have to this hour never beheld it, except long afterwards in the frightful mirror. And that fatal treasure was the cause of my never having been there in reality.

“For, as we drew nearer and nearer to the castle, I was every night haunted by strange and irresistible visions, by which I was constantly warned and impelled to look into the magic mirror, and behold there the adventures past and to come of my husband, Sir Hugur. On awakening, all was confusion in my mind, and I could not clearly recall the phantoms of my sleep, but felt always a vehement desire to act according to those warnings. Yet my love towards Sir Hugur, mingled also with my terror of offending him, always made me able to resist that inclination, until one night, which we past encamped under the shelter of a great forest, my dreams became more vivid and more frightful than ever, so that I could also recall them when awake.

“In my nightly vision, it seemed to me as if the form of the beautiful Astrid, my sister, of whose death I had never heard, was always before me, and that she was zealously employed in culling flowers under the trees. Methought also, that it was still night, and that a gleam of moonlight shone upon her features, and I said to myself, ‘How strangely pale she looks in that light! Does she not appear, even now, more like one of the dead than of the living?’ Thereupon a deep melancholy, and even horror, settled on my heart. The beautiful Astrid continued her search for flowers; but, when she had made a rich and variegated wreath, and was adding to it the last flower, in order to tie it together, lo! the whole garland changed at once into dust and ashes, which flew into her eyes, and disfigured her countenance. Then she indeed looked like one of the dead, and, moreover, began to wring her hands and weep bitterly. Thereafter she renewed her task, and soon made another wreath, which was dissolved like the former. I wished to rise up and assist her, but the leaden bonds of sleep held me fast; I could not move; and when Astrid saw my vain endeavours, she said, ‘Nay, nay, think not of aiding me. These are but earthly flowers which no one can fix in my hands, and wherefore should I wish for them, since I have been long since dead?’ After these words, she came and placed herself beside me, adding, ‘Wherefore hast thou the mirror in thy possession? I shall never grant thee peace, neither by night nor day, till thou hast looked into it, and inquired after the past life of the stern Sir Hugur. If thou wilt not obey my commands, then truly may’st thou pursue thy way to the castle of Trautwangen; but, remember, till the warning be fulfilled, thou shalt never enjoy rest; till then I shall ever be with thee!’ All this was uttered in a voice that sounded at once so eager, and so feebly shrill, that I was struck with horror, and awoke, screaming, from my sleep. This time, as I have already said, the impression of my dream remained clear on my mind. Meanwhile I heard the owls shrieking without in the wild forest; my female attendants were fast asleep, and the sentinels snored at the entrance of the tent. At these fearful moments I wished to lose my sense of the terror by which I was surrounded in the protecting arms of sleep; but, scarcely had I closed my eyes and begun to slumber, when the deadly pale visage of Astrid was again close to mine; her voice again shrilled in mine ears, and these fearful changes from sleep to waking, and from waking to sleep, were repeated, till, unable to bear such torment any longer, I started from my couch, and ran straightway towards the coffer in which I knew that the mirror was deposited. All yet slept around me; the fires were extinguished, the moon sunk, the night was dark and silent as the grave.

“At the well-known touch of my hands all the locks and bolts were at once opened; the mirror was revealed, and shone brightly, with its own supernatural light. I leaned it against the stem of an oak-tree, and, according to the warning voice of my dream, demanded what had been the crimes of Sir Hugur?

“What I then beheld I need not repeat to thee; thou know’st it already from the lips of the wise armourer, Asmandur, who has described to thee the fate of the beautiful Astrid, and even repeated the songs in which she took her last farewell of the stern champion of the North.”

Hereupon, Sir Otto and Hildiridur both wept bitterly, and for a long while they remained silent, and gazing on each other. At length the lady began to speak as follows:--

“In the mirror I beheld also a beautiful boy, who is now changed into the wild reckless Ottur, for he was the son of Sir Hugur and the beautiful Astrid. That thy half-brother should resemble thee so nearly is not to be thought mysterious; for scarcely could his mother and thine be distinguished from each other. I was still weeping before the mirror, because I beheld therein how the boy turned away in mingled wrath and terror from his father, who, in the presence of the old knight, had dipped a spear in my sister’s blood, when, lo! the stern Sir Hugur himself stood suddenly behind me. The red light of the morning, which had just then begun to break, shone on his visage, distorted by wrath, and in a thundering voice he exclaimed, ‘Thou hast then given thyself up again to thy witchcraft and incantations; but although thou hast forgotten thine obedience, I shall not forget the vows that I have sworn. Prepare then for death!’ With these words, he drew his sword, that gleamed like a flame in the morning light; and that sword, dearest son, was the same which thou wearest at this moment, and to which, as thou said’st, thou hast given the name of Ottur.”

Hereupon Sir Otto looked with aversion and terror on the weapon which he had before held so dear; it seemed as if he would tear it from his side, and cast it away; but then said Hildiridur, “Fear not, dear son; by that good sword I have never been injured; although by my disobedience I had deserved that my life should thereby have been taken away. For as I kneeled on the ground, and even bared my bosom as a self-condemned criminal to receive the blow, suddenly the heart of the stern Hugur was melted; and he said, ‘Nay, Heaven forbid that thou should’st ever be wounded by my hand. But I must separate myself from thee, for now thou hast discovered the fearful crimes which I committed against thy sister, Astrid; nor have I humility or fortitude enough (whichsoever it should be called) to beg thy forgiveness. Nor, to say the truth, could I confide longer in one who is thus given up to sorcery; therefore hasten thou from my sight, and never let us meet again. But as for the boy, I must detain him with me, and will tell him that thou art dead.’ To these commands I was forced to submit; but I desisted not from entreaties, till I had been permitted to take leave of thee, dearest Otto. The by-standers told thee that I was then dying; and, truly, I must have seemed at last more like one of the dead than of the living; for, quite overcome by my affliction at parting with thee, and my regret at the disobedience of which I had so rashly been guilty, I sank back, fainting and insensible, on the grassy turf.”

Once more the lady heartily embraced her beloved son; and they felt that their long sufferings were more than compensated by the happiness which they now enjoyed.