When the twelve-days’ high-tide at King Gunther’s home-coming had been brought to an end, and the guests had all gone to their homes, Siegfried, too, prepared to bid farewell to the Rhineland kings, and to wend to his own country. But he was not to go alone; for Kriemhild, the peerless princess, was to go with him as his bride. They had been during the merry festivities which had just closed, and that event had added greatly to the general joy; for never was there a fairer or a nobler pair than Siegfried the fearless, and Kriemhild the peerless.
“It grieves my heart to part with you,” said Gunther, Siegfried’s hand. “It will fare but ill with us, I fear, when we no longer see your radiant face, or hear your cheery voice.”
“Say not so, my brother,” answered Siegfried; “for the gods have many good things in store for you. And, if ever you need the help of my arm, you have but to say the word, and I will hasten to your aid.”
Then the Burgundian kings the hero to take the fourth part of their kingdom as his own and Kriemhild’s, and to think no more of leaving them. But Siegfried would not agree to this. His heart to see his father and mother once again, and then to return to his own loved Nibelungen Land. So he thanked the kings for their kind offer, and hastened to make ready for his intended journey.
Early on Midsummer Day the hero and his bride rode out of Gunther’s , and turned their faces . And with them was a noble of warriors,—five hundred brave Burgundians, with Eckewart as their chief,—who had sworn to be Queen Kriemhild’s in her new, far-distant home. Thirty and two fair , too, went with her. And with Siegfried were his Nibelungen earls.
As the company rode down the sands, and filed gayly along the river-road, it seemed a lovely although a sad sight to their who gazed after them from the castle-towers. Fair and young were all the folk; and the world, to most, was still untried. And they rode, in the morning sunlight, away from their native land, nor recked that never again would they return. Each sat upon a charger, richly geared with gilt-red saddle, and gorgeous , and trappings of every ; and their war-coats were bright and dazzling; and their spears glanced in the sun; and their golden shields threw rays of resplendent light around them. The maidens, too, were richly dight in broidered cloaks of blue, and rare stuffs brought from far-off Araby; and each sat on a snow-white palfrey geared with silken housings, and trappings of bright blue.
For some days the company followed the course of the river, passing through many a rich meadow, and between lovely vineyards, and fields of yellow corn. Then they rode over a , barren waste, and through a wild greenwood, and reached, at last, the hills which marked the beginning of King Siegmund’s . Then Siegfried sent fleet before them to carry to his father the tidings of his coming with his bride, fair Kriemhild. Glad, indeed, were old King Siegmund and Siegfried’s gentle mother when they heard this news.
“Oh, happy is the day!” cried the king. “Thrice happy be the day that shall see fair Kriemhild a crowned queen, and Siegfried a king in the throne of his fathers!”
And they showered upon the heralds who had brought the happy news rich fees of gold and silver, and gave them garments of silken . And on the morrow they set out, with a train of earl-folk and lovely ladies, to meet their son and his bride. For one whole day they journeyed to the old of Santen, where in former days the king’s dwelling had been. There they met the happy bridal-party, and fond and loving were the greetings they upon Kriemhild and the radiant Siegfried. Then, without delay, they returned to Siegmund’s kingly hall; and for twelve days a high tide, more happy and more splendid than that which had been held in Burgundy, was made in honor of Siegfried’s marriage-day. And, in the midst of those days of sport and joyance, the old king gave his crown and sceptre to his son; and all the people hailed Siegfried, king of the broad Lowlands, and Kriemhild his lovely queen.
Old stories tell how Siegfried in peace and glad contentment in his fatherland; and how the sunshine shone wherever he went, and poured a flood of light and warmth and happiness into every nook and corner of his kingdom; and how, at length, after the gentle Sigelind had died, he moved his court to that other country of his,—the far-off Nibelungen Land. And it is in that strange, dream-haunted land, in a strong-built mountain fortress, that we shall next find him.
Glad were the Nibelungen folk when their own king and his lovely wife came to dwell among them; and the mists once more were lifted, and the skies grew bright and clear, and men said that the night had departed, and the better days were near. Golden, indeed, and most glorious, was that summer-time; and long to be remembered was Siegfried’s too brief in Nibelungen Land. And, ages , folk loved to sing of his care for his people’s welfare, of his wisdom and , of his deeds in the time of warring, and the victories gained in peace. And strong and brave were the men-folk, and wise and fair were the women, and broad and rich were the acres, in Siegfried’s well-ruled land. The farm-lands were yellow with the abundant harvests, fruitful grew in the pleasant dales, and fair vineyards crowned the hills. Fine cities sprang up along the seacoast, and strong were built on every height. Great ships were made, which sailed to every land, and brought home rich goods from every clime,—coffee and spices from India, rich silks from Zazemang, fine fruits from the Iberian shore, and soft furs, and ivory of the sea-beast, from the frozen coasts of the north. Never before was country so richly blessed; for Siegfried taught his people how to till the soil best, and how to far down into the earth for hidden treasures, and how to work in iron and bronze and all other metals, and how to make the winds and the waters, and even the thunderbolt, their and helpful servants. And he was as great in war as in peace; for no other people dared harm, or in any way impose upon, the Nibelungen folk, or any of his faithful liegemen.
It is told how, once on a time, he warred against the Hundings, who had done his people an injury, and how he sailed against them in a long dragon-ship of a hundred . When he was far out in the mid-sea, and no land was anywhere in sight, a dreadful storm arose. The lightnings flashed, and the winds roared, and threatened to carry the ship to destruction. Quickly the fearful sailors began to reef the sails, but Siegfried bade them stop.
“Why be afraid?” he cried. “The Norns have woven the woof of every man’s life, and no man can escape his destiny. If the gods will that we should drown, it is for us to strive against fate. We are bound to the shore of the Hundings’ land, and must our good ship carry us. the sails high on the masts, even though the wind should tear them into , and split the masts into splinters!”
The sailors did as they were bidden; and the hurricane caught the ship in its arms, and hurried it over the rolling waves with the speed of lightning. And Siegfried stood calmly at the helm, and guided the flying . Presently they saw a rocky point rising up out of the waters before them; and on it stood an old man, his gray cloak streaming in the wind, and his blue tied tightly down over his head.
“Whose ship is that which comes riding on the storm?” cried the man.
“King Siegfried’s ship,” answered the man at the . “There lives no braver man on earth than he.”
“Thou sayest truly,” came back from the rock. “Lay by your oars, reef the sails, and take me on board!”
“What is your name?” asked the sailor, as the ship swept past him.
“When the gladly over his battle-feast, men call me Hnikar. But call me now Karl from the mountain, Fengr, or Fjolner. Reef, quick, your sails, and take me in!”
The men, at Siegfried’s command, obeyed. And at once the wind ceased blowing, and the sea was calm, and the warm sun shone through the rifted clouds, and the coast of Hundings Land lay close before them. But when they looked for Fjolner, as he called himself, they could not find him.
One day Siegfried sat in his sun-lit hall in Nibelungen Land; and Kriemhild, lovely as a morning in June, sat beside him. And they talked of the early days when alone he fared through the mid-world, and alone did deeds of daring. And Siegfried bethought him then of the glittering of Andvari, and the cave and the mountain fortress, where the faithful Alberich still guarded the measureless treasure.
“How I should like to see that mountain fastness and that glittering hoard!” cried Kriemhild.
“You shall see,” answered the king.
And at once horses were saddled, and preparations were made for a morning’s into the mountains. And, ere an hour had passed, Siegfried and his queen, and a small number of and ladies, were riding through the passes. About noon they came to Alberich’s dwelling,—a frowning fortress of built in the mountain-side. The gate was opened by the sleepy giant who always sat within, and the party rode into the narrow court-yard. There they were met by Alberich, seeming smaller and grayer, and more pinched and , than ever before.
“Hail, noble master!” cried he, bowing low before Siegfried. “How can Alberich serve you to-day?”
“Lead us to the treasure-vaults,” answered the king. “My queen would fain feast her eyes upon the yellow, sparkling hoard.”
The dwarf obeyed. Through a narrow door they were into a long, low , so frowning and gloomy, that the queen started back in affright. But, re-assured by Siegfried’s smiling face, she went forward again. The entrance-way was lighted by little torches held in the hands of tiny elves, who bowed in politeness to the kingly party. But, when once beyond the entrance-hall, no torches were needed to show the way; for the huge pile of glittering gold and sparkling jewels, which lay heaped up to the cavern’s roof, lighted all the space around with a glory brighter than day.
“There is the dwarf’s treasure!” cried Siegfried. “Behold the Hoard of Andvari, the gathered wealth of the ages! Henceforth, fair Kriemhild, it is yours—all yours, save this serpent-ring.”
“And why not that too?” asked the queen; for she admired its glittering golden scales, and its staring eyes.
“Alas!” answered he, “a curse rests upon it,—the curse which Andvari the ancient laid upon it when Loki tore it from his hand. A miser’s heart—selfish, cold, snaky—is bred in its owner’s being; and he thenceforth lives a very serpent’s life. Or, should he resist its influence, then death through the of pretended friends is sure to be his fate.”
“Then why,” asked the queen,—“why do you keep it yourself? Why do you risk its bane? Why not give it to your sworn , or cast it into the sea, or melt it in the fire, and thus escape the curse?”
Siegfried answered by telling how, when in the of his youth, he had Fafnir, the keeper of this hoard, upon the Glittering Heath; and how, while still in the narrow which he had dug, the blood of the beast had flown in upon him, and covered him up.
“And this I have been told by Odin’s birds,” he went on to say, “that every part of my body that was touched by the slimy flood was made forever proof against sword and spear, and sharp weapons of every kind. Hence I have no cause to fear the stroke, either of open or of false friends.”
“But was all of your body covered with the dragon’s blood? Was there no small spot untouched?” asked the queen, more anxious now than she had ever seemed to be before she had known aught of her husband’s strange security from wounds.
“Only one very little spot between the shoulders was left untouched,” answered Siegfried. “I afterwards found a lime-leaf sticking there, and I know that the slimy blood touched not that spot. But then who fears a thrust in the back? None save cowards are wounded there.”
“Ah!” said the queen, toying tremulously with the fatal ring, “that little lime-leaf may yet bring us unutterable .”
But Siegfried laughed at her fears; and he took the serpent-ring, and slipped it upon his , and said that he would wear it there, bane or no bane, so long as Odin would let him live.
Then, after another long look at the heaps of glittering gold and priceless gem-stones, the company turned, and followed Alberich back, through the gloomy entranceway and the narrow door, to the open air again. And mounting their steeds, which stood ready, they started homewards. But, at the outer gate, Siegfried paused, and said to the dwarf at parting,—
“Hearken, Alberich! The Hoard of Andvari is no longer mine. I have made a present of it to my queen. Hold it and guard it, therefore, as hers and hers alone; and, whatever her bidding may be regarding it, that do.”
“Your word is law, and shall be obeyed,” said the dwarf, bowing low.
Then the gate-keeper swung the heavy gate to its place, and the kingly party rode gayly away.
On their way home the company went, by another route, through the narrow mountain pass which led towards the sea, and thence through a rocky between two smoking mountains. And on one side of this road a great cavern yawned, so dark and deep that no man had ever dared to step inside of it. And as they paused before it, and listened, they heard, away down in its depths, horrid , sad moanings, and faint wild , so far away that it seemed as if they had come from the very centre of the earth. And, while they still listened, the ground around them trembled and shook, and the smoking mountain on the other side of the gorge smoked blacker than before.
“Loki is uneasy to-day,” said Siegfried, as they all put spurs to their horses, and swiftly home.
It was the Cavern of the -maker which the party had visited; and that evening, as they again sat in Siegfried’s pleasant hall, they amused themselves by telling many strange old tales of the mid-world’s childhood, when the gods, and the giants, and the dwarf-folk, had their dwelling on the earth. But they talked most of Loki, the flame, the restless, the evil-doer. And this, my children, is the story that was told of the of the Mischief-maker.
The Story.
You have heard of the feast that old AEgir once made for the Asa-folk in his gold-lit dwelling in the deep sea; and how the feast was hindered, through the loss of his great brewing-kettle, until Thor had obtained a still larger vessel from Hymer the giant. It is very likely that the thief who stole King AEgir’s kettle was none other than Loki the Mischief-maker; but, if this was so, he was not long unpunished for his meanness.
There was great joy in the Ocean-king’s hall, when at last the banquet was ready, and the ale began to pass itself around to the guests. But Thor, who had done so much to help matters along, could not stay to the merry-making: for he had heard that the Storm-giants were marshalling............