CHAPTER IX.

Of a discourse, at midnight, betwixt Sir Otto and the black-visaged Armourer.

The banquet was now ended, and the wine-cups drained. It was night, and Sir Otto had laid himself on a couch to repose after the fatigues of the day and of his unwonted sea-voyage. About midnight, however, he was disturbed by a strange noise of knocking and singing, which sounded with hollow reverberations through the vaults of the castle. At first all this only blended with his dreams, and he continued to sleep, though unquietly; but, at last, as the noises were kept up without intermission, he was thoroughly roused. Looking around him, and recollecting himself with a mixed feeling of alarm and pleasure, he discovered that his bedchamber was right over the vault, inhabited by the black-visaged armourer, Asmandur, who, at this dead hour of the night, was busily employed on the young champion’s sword, all the while chaunting an ancient ballad, setting forth how the falchion of the great Siegmund Wolsung was broken on the battle-field by the spear of King Odin, and how thereafter a wise magician joined the pieces together, so that it might be wielded by Sigurd, the serpent-slayer, Wolsung’s only son. Of this ballad, Sir Otto had learned many heart-stirring stanzas from his father, the old Knight of Trautwangen; and now he could not resist his desire to hear them again from the lips of a Norman. Moreover, it was not this ballad only that was to be heard from Asmandur; for he mingled with it now and then another chaunt, setting forth the story of a great giant, named Hugur, who was yet unknown to Sir Otto, and by whom his heart was vehemently attracted. So he rose softly from his couch, took his mantle and battle-axe, groped his way down stairs, and following the sounds of Asmandur’s voice, he at last made his appearance unexpectedly in the vault of the armourer, who now broke off angrily from his labour, and, wielding his hammer, came forward to meet the intruder. As soon, however, as he recognised Sir Otto, he seemed quite satisfied, only laid his finger on his lips, in token that silence was absolutely required. Then he proceeded, as before, with his employment; and Sir Otto, obedient to his directions, took his place opposite on an old anvil, without saying a word.

So then the armourer, as he resumed his labour, began again to sing; and the vault rung not only with the strokes of the hammer, but with the glorious deeds of Siegmund and Sigurd. At every interval, however, when he placed the iron in the fire, he changed his music, and sang other words, setting forth how the fierce Hugur had slain his own wife, who was so beautiful and affectionate; and praying that the champion, who was to wield the sword on which he thus laboured, might never behave after such manner. Then he returned to the deeds of Sigurd, and again to those of Hugur, while his arm never rested; and the fierce fire never ceased to glow till the solemn work was ended. At length he took the sword, still red hot, with a long pair of pincers, laid it aside to cool, and, for the first time, spoke with Sir Otto. “If you have aught to communicate or to ask,” said he, “now you may speak freely, without fear of consequences for yourself or for your sword.” “I did not come hither for the sake of talking,” answered Sir Otto, “but only to listen; for old ballads and stories are the very delight of my life. With the deeds of Siegmund you seem to be at an end; and to say the truth, I know them for the most part already. If, however, you would instruct me more particularly as to that story of the great Hugur, I should be sincerely thankful.” “That shall be done right willingly,” said Asmandur; “but first I shall bring a horn of mead; for, in truth, I lack some refreshment; and for you I shall provide a goblet of wine.” So, after he had in due time placed both upon the anvil, he drew in two great cuirasses instead of chairs, and the two champions took their places at their iron table, right cordially and well contented with each other. Thereafter Asmandur begun his narration as follows:--

“About forty years ago there lived in this land a knight who was named Hugur. He was the handsomest and stoutest of all men in the world; and, as he had come hither as a stranger, there were not wanting people who maintained that he was one of the ancient race of Odin, who, by some strange miracle or enchantment, had been sent hither from that magnificent land, wherein is situated the divine palace of Valhalla, which so many mortals have in vain tried to discover. As to what truth there might be in these rumours I know not. I have been baptized, and have become a good Christian; yet still, when I hear of Odin and Valhalla, my whole heart is warmed and heaves within me. These old stories, my brave young friend, of our gods and their wondrous miracles, cannot have been all void of foundation! Well, it came to pass, that Hugur proved himself to be the most victorious champion in all Norway, one only excepted. Much, however, as our people admired and loved Hugur, they detested his rival; for the latter never appeared any where without proving a forerunner of misfortune. Although he rendered them all the assistance in his power, and especially never failed to inflict vengeance on any one against whom he had harboured resentment, yet such deeds could by no means compensate for that chilling terror and apprehension, which his coming never failed to excite in the hearts of mankind.”

“Was this not the frightful man with vulture’s wings on his helmet?” said Sir Otto.

“Lo there! you know your way among us already,” said Asmandur. “Well, Arinbiorn has no doubt given you information, for he is himself a descendant of this mysterious hero.” Otto meanwhile fixed his eyes wildly on a dark corner of the vault, as if he thought that the spectral man with the vulture’s wings would come forth against him. “Now,” continued Asmandur, “there was at that time a certain Jarl in Norway, who had almost the power and the riches of a great king, and this Jarl had two beautiful daughters, very like to one another, of whom the oldest was named Astrid, and the youngest Hildiridur. Astrid was like most other young maidens, cheerful, well-behaved, good-hearted, and rejoiced in the society of her playmates. Hildiridur, on the other hand, was equally good and virtuous; but her stars had so destined, that she had an irresistible longing after the occult sciences of magic and necromancy; on which account, she was in early youth taken under the care of her aunt, who was a powerful sorceress, and who carried her away into the wild regions of Iceland, amid their flaming mountains and everlasting snows.

“Now it came to pass, that almost all the heroes in Norway paid their addresses to the beautiful Astrid, and among the rest was the mysterious knight with the golden vulture’s wings; but, as the damsel was exceedingly affrighted by this ornament, which he wore on his head, as well as by his character and demeanour, the brave Sir Hugur succeeded in winning her affections, and a day was fixed for their wedding. The stern Avenger, with his fearful head-piece, parted from her without anger; for, in truth, whatever might be believed to the contrary, he was good-tempered, and was determined in resenting the wrongs of others rather than his own. However, at the festival of their betrothment, his vulture’s wings were to their great surprise visible in the banquet-hall. He would perchance have gladly staid away; but could not resist that influence by which he was forced to appear, in order to warn them of approaching misfortune. He apologized accordingly, and the bride grew deadly pale, while Sir Hugur received him, according to his rank, with grave politeness. It came to pass, that in the middle of that night the castle was struck, and set on fire, by a thunderbolt; but, at the risk of his own life, the mysterious knight rescued the bride and bridegroom. Every one else in the castle had fallen asleep, and was rendered by the fire and thick smoke insensible, instead of being roused. Strange to tell, the stern Sir Hugur, though fully conscious of the danger which he had escaped, conceived a hatred against his deliverer, and requested that he would never more appear in his presence. ‘Rest assured,’ answered the knight of the vulture’s wings, ‘I shall never more come before you, unless by your own misfortunes I am brought to you for your protection.’ It happened, accordingly, that Hugur was exposed to many distresses, and whether his own life were threatened, or that of his beautiful wife, or of a son who was born to them in the first year after their marriage, or were it but a noble war-steed that was in danger, or the fruit of the harvest-field, the frightful knight never failed to make his appearance before-hand in the castle. So, notwithstanding the assistance which he afforded, both Astrid and Hugur believed that he had caused all these misfortunes, only that he might take merit to himself for striving against their consequences. At length matters came to such a pass, that Sir Hugur swore, in the presence of the knight with the golden helmet, that if he ever dared to come again under the roof of his castle, he would, unawares, fall upon him, and strike him dead with his battle-axe. The Avenger then shrugged his shoulders, and went away discontented and mournful.

“It happened not long afterwards, that the beautiful Astrid, as she was often wont to do, had gone forth alone into the neighbouring woods. She had a light glittering javelin in her hand, though she carried it more as a toy, and in sport, than with the intent of aiming it at any living creature, for she was no huntress. There it so befel, that, in a spot where the trees were twined into dense thickets, she found the mysterious knight asleep, and his frightful helmet lying beside him on the grass. She was much terrified, and yet could not help standing still and gazing upon him. So almost every one has felt, at one time or another, when he has met with some hideous object. At last she bethought herself, whether there might not be some wicked spell locked up in that head-piece, which would be from henceforth broken and dissolved, if it were no longer in the possession of its present owner. The thought was no sooner formed, than it was put into execution; for the fair Astrid had no good opinion of the stranger, and, by depriving him of his armour, was glad to think that she would render him more exposed to the blows of his enemies. As she walked homewards through the thickets, the helmet appeared to her so horrible, that, in order to hold it at as great a distance as possible from her eyes, she placed it on her javelin, and carried it over her shoulder.

“Then the stern Sir Hugur came riding through the forest; and, as he saw at a distance the golden vulture’s wings through the foliage, he could not but believe that his old enemy was there lurking for him in ambuscade. So he took a javelin, and hurled it with all his force at his supposed adversary. He was too good a marksman to fail in hitting his object, and the spear went right into the heart of his beloved and beautiful Astrid. Before she died, she wept bitterly; for she was unwilling to leave this world, wherein she had yet so many pleasures; and Hugur, when he discovered his mistake, almost died of grief and repentance. The last words that they interchanged together are yet preserved in an old ballad; for it is said, that, according to our northern use and wont, they sang to each other their last farewell. At length the beautiful damsel closed her bright eyes in death; and just at that moment appeared the mysterious knight, who was now in search of his golden helmet. Sir Hugur directly attacked him with great violence; and it seemed as if the Avenger’s wonted powers had now quite forsaken him. After a short conflict, his head was almost cleft asunder, and he lay dead at the feet of his adversary. Sir Hugur then took the pale remains of his beautiful wife in his arms, and the corpse of the knight on his shoulders, and in this manner presented himself at the castle of his father-in-law, where he became his own accuser; and insisted that his life should be taken as an atonement for the death of Astrid. The old Jarl, however, having discovered how this misfortune had come to pass, pronounced him free from all guilt; only he required of Sir Hugur, that he should enter into a solemn engagement to afford his assistance on the battle-field whenever his father-in-law should demand this of him. The young hero now took a javelin, and dipped it in the blood of his beautiful victim, then gave it to the old Jarl, saying,--‘Send to me a messenger with this token; and wherever I may be, were it at the very farthest corner of the earth, I shall hasten to your assistance in Norway.’ This then was the atonement which he made for the melancholy fate of Astrid. Moreover, Hugur’s only son was there present, and was so terrified when he saw the spear dipt in his mother’s blood, that the knight could never prevail on the boy to come near him again; so that the child was left under the care of his grandfather.

“Thereafter (it is said that Sir Hugur was by this time in Italy,) the old Jarl sent him the javelin, commanding that he should immediately repair to France, to the assistance of some Norman friends and connexions. On this occasion Sir Hugur had faithfully fulfilled his duty. From Normandy also his father-in-law sent him forth upon a sea-voyage; and after he had also performed the task which was there enjoined him, he met on his voyage home with a ship, manned by Icelanders, which had on board his wife’s sister, the beautiful Hildiridur, who was now preparing to return to her father’s castle in Norway. They met together in a bay not far from the land; and as he perceived not only that she bore a resemblance to his beloved Astrid, but that she was yet far more beautiful than the wife whom he had lost, he determined to keep her in his power by force or by stratagem, well knowing that his father-in-law would never consent to their union. As for Hildiridur, she knew not aught of what had come to pass during her absence from Norway, and the Icelanders were equally ignorant; so that half in terror at his superior strength, (as it would have been easy for his crew to have taken all the Icelanders captive,) and half won by his knightly grace and dignity, she gave herself up to him; and a Christian priest, who happened to be present, pronounced over them the church’s blessing. At the same time he exacted from her a vow, that as long as they lived together, she should never more practise her magic spells and incantations. It might be that he entertained a natural horror of these arts, or that he was afraid, lest, by means of them, she might discover the fate of her younger sister. The Icelanders to whom he gave presents, and who were left at liberty to go whither they pleased, related in Norway all that had occurred; but this was of little consequence, for they found that the old Jarl was now dead; and since that time no tidings have ever been heard of the stern Sir Hugur and the beautiful Hildiridur.”