Читать книгу Told by the Northmen: Stories from the Eddas and Sagas - E. M. Wilmot-Buxton - Страница 11

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n the highest hill of Asgard, upon a great chair, sat All-Father Odin, watching from thence all that was happening on and above and under the earth.

The Father of Asas and of men had long grey locks and thick curling beard, and he wore a great blue coat flecked with grey like unto the sky when the fleecy clouds scud across it.

In his hand he carried a spear, so sacred that, if anyone swore an oath upon its point, that oath could never be broken.

On his head he wore, when sitting upon his watch-tower throne, a helmet shaped like an eagle; but when he wandered, as he loved to do, about the earth, he wore a large broad-brimmed hat drawn low over his forehead.

Perched on his broad shoulders sat two inky-black ravens, Hugin and Munin, whom every morning he sent to wing their flight about the world that they might see what was going on.

Every evening when they returned, they whispered all that they had seen and heard in his ears.

At Odin's feet crouched two great wolves, whom he fed from the meat set before him; for he himself cared not to eat flesh-food, and preferred rather to drink the sacred mead provided by the goat who fed upon the leaves of the Tree of Life.

Sometimes Odin left his watch-tower throne for the great Council Hall where the twelve Asas sat and took counsel together; but his favourite seat of all was in his own palace of Valhalla, or the Hall of the Chosen Slain. This palace stood in the midst of a wonderful grove of trees, whose leaves were all of red gold, rustling and shimmering in the breeze. Five and forty doors opened into it, each wide enough to allow eight hundred warriors to enter abreast, and over the chief entrance was a boar's head and a great eagle, whose keen gaze looked forth over all the world. The walls of the palace were built of spears of polished steel, so bright that they lighted the whole building; and the roof was made of golden shields.

"And wondrous gleamed Valhalla on the heights—

Her walls shone bright as rows of glittering spears;

The roof resplendent like great golden shields;

Hundreds of open gates and welcoming doors

For myriad warriors from the fields of earth—

The chosen heroes of the future years,

To be great Odin's mighty bodyguard

Against the awful prophecies of doom."

From end to end of the great hall stood long tables and benches loaded with armour, ready prepared for the fortunate guests. And this was the manner of their selection. Whenever a great battle was about to be fought on the earth, Odin sent forth the nine Valkyrs, or Battle Maidens, his especial attendants, to watch the progress of the fight and to choose from the fallen warriors half of their number. These the Battle Maidens carried on their swift steeds over the Rainbow Bridge into the great hall of Valhalla, where they were welcomed by the sons of Odin and taken to the All-Father's throne to receive his greeting. But if one had shown himself especially heroic in the fight, Odin would descend from his throne and advance to the door to bid him welcome.

And now, seated at the long tables, loaded with great beakers of mead and dishes of boar flesh, the warriors feasted merrily, tended by the fair Battle Maidens.

"The blazing roof resounds

The genial uproar of those shades who fall

In desperate fight, or by some brave attempt."

When they had eaten all they could, the warriors would call for their weapons, ride out into the great courtyard, and there wage desperate fights, in the course of which many a man would be sorely wounded. But this mattered little, for at the sound of the dinner horn all wounds were healed.

"And all day long they there are hacked and hewn

'Mid dust, and groans, and limbs lopped off, and blood

But all at night return to Odin's hall

Woundless and fresh; such lot is theirs in heaven."

These warriors were Odin's special joy and delight, and he was never weary of watching them at feast or in the combat. Sometimes, indeed, when some battle on earth was impending, he would appear, riding upon his eight-footed grey horse, and with white shield on arm would fling his glittering spear into the ranks of the warriors as signal for the fight to begin, and would rush into the fray with his war-cry, "Odin has you all!"

Now, though all this shows very clearly that All-Father Odin was a warlike Asa and delighted in battles, there was another side to his character, for beyond all the other Asas he cared for wisdom.

Very early in the morn of time All-Father Odin discovered that beneath the roots of the Tree of Life, just where sky and ocean met, there was a marvellous spring of water, "the fountain of all wit and wisdom." Looking into its crystal depths, all that was going to happen in the future was revealed, and anyone drinking of it received the gifts of wisdom, knowledge, and right judgment about all things. Now this spring was guarded by the Giant Mimir, who prided himself upon being wiser than any other giants or Asas could be, for he alone had the right to draw water from the well; and every morning, dipping his glittering horn therein, he drank a long draught, and with every draught he grew wiser, till he knew everything that was past and present and is to come.

When Odin became aware of the marvellous properties of the spring, he was eager to drink of it, "for," said he, "it is not fitting that a giant should know more than the Father of Asas and men."

So early one morn he entered a dark grove of trees, where, amidst great arching roots fantastically intertwined, bubbled the spring; and keeping watch beside it sat Giant Mimir, his long grey beard sweeping over his knees, and his great piercing eyes shining with fierce light as the new-comer approached.

"What do you want here?" he demanded, in a voice that sounded like the muttering of thunder before a storm.

"I want a drink of yon water from your glittering horn, good Mimir," said Odin.

But Giant Mimir sunk his great head upon his chest, and looking from under his shaggy eyebrows, growled again:

"Begone, I tell you. I give no man drink from my well."

Then Odin drew himself up to his full height, and in a voice that was more thunderous than that of the giant himself, cried:

"No man am I, O Mimir, but Odin, Father of Asas and men. Refuse not to me the gift of wisdom; for though I can see all things that happen in heaven and earth, I cannot see what lies beneath the deep, nor can I see what shall happen in the future. Give me, therefore, the draught of wisdom, and I will pay you whatsoever you demand."

But Mimir still refused. "We giants are of elder race than ye Asas be," he said, "and all the wisdom in the world is in our hands. If I give you to drink of this water you will become wise even as we are, and an enemy more dangerous than ever."

"Nevertheless," replied Odin firmly, "you must give me the water, and I will pay you whatsoever you may ask."

Then Mimir, feeling sure that such a payment would be refused, said, "I will give you the magic draught in return for one of your eyes."

But to his amazement, for the god was very proud of his keen vision, Odin at once plucked forth an eye and handed it to him, saying:

"No price is too high to pay for wisdom."

So Mimir was obliged to hand him the horn filled with precious water, and Odin drank a full draught, caring not at all that henceforth he was to have but one eye, for he knew that he had gained the precious gift of wisdom beyond any in the world save Mimir himself.

Meantime, Mimir dropped the eye of the Asa into the well, where it shines bright as the moon reflected in still waters; and he bade Odin depart, saying heavily, "This day is the beginning of trouble betwixt your race and mine."

Determined to put his new-found wisdom to the test, All-Father Odin now disguised himself as a wandering minstrel and went to visit the Most Learned of all the Giants save Mimir, who, of course, knew everything in the whole world. And the Most Learned Giant received him graciously, and consented readily to enter into a contest of wit, and it was agreed that the loser should forfeit his head.

The Most Learned Giant was the first to begin. He questioned Odin as to the size and colour of the horses which bore the chariots of Night and Day across the sky; he asked him the source of the river which separated the Land of the Giants from Asgard, and finally he demanded details about the last battle that was to be fought between Asas and giants in far-distant days.

All these questions were fully and promptly answered by Odin, and it was now his turn. He questioned his rival first as to the Beginning of All Things; then he asked what the heroes did in Valhalla, what was the work of the Weird Sisters, and who would carry on the work of the gods when they had passed away.

And all these were fully answered by the Most Learned Giant.

Then Odin bent down to the Giant's ear as he sat on his great seat, and said softly:

"Tell me, lastly, I pray you, what are the words that the All-Father will whisper to his son Balder as he lies dead upon his funeral pyre?"

At this the Most Learned Giant uprose, and looking hard into the sad and troubled face of his questioner, said:

"No one but Odin himself can answer that question, and no one but Odin would have asked it. For only he who has drunk of the water of wisdom would foresee the death in the far-off future of his dearest son. Kill me now, therefore, for thou hast triumphed."

Here the tale comes to an end; but we should like to think that Odin spared the life of the Most Learned Giant, and perhaps he would have done so the more readily because his heart was softened by the knowledge, born of his new-found wisdom, that Balder, his beautiful son, must die.

Another story is told in which Odin's great wisdom seemed for a time at fault.

We have noticed how fond was the All-Father of watching the affairs of mortal men. He was especially interested, at one time, in two handsome little princes, the sons of a certain king, who were usually to be found playing or wrestling or riding together on the seashore which bounded their father's kingdom.

Geirrod and Agnar were the names of these boys, and All-Father Odin and his wife Frigga grew so fond of them both that, disguising themselves as an old man and woman, they went to live upon a desert island which lay far out at sea, opposite the beach where the children played. Presently it came to pass, exactly as they hoped, that the boys went fishing, and Odin made a storm to arise, and the rough wind blew the little boat away from the land, and finally stranded it upon the island.

The boys, frightened, wet, and hungry, came timidly to the door of the hut where the old people dwelt and asked for shelter. They were received kindly by Odin and Frigga, who kept the boys all the long winter, making much of them and delighting in their childish fun and merriment. Geirrod was Odin's favourite. He taught him to fight, to swim, and to use the bow and spear. But Frigga loved best the gentle little Agnar, the elder boy, who would sit by her side and rest his head upon her knee, well contented, while she told him strange tales of beautiful Asgard, the home of the gods.

Spring came at length, and, when the sea was calm and still, Odin put the two boys aboard a boat and bade them sail back to their father. And Agnar grieved at leaving his kind old friends, but Geirrod did not even so much as look back to respond to their farewell.

The favourable breezes which Odin had called up soon urged the boat to land; but the moment it touched the shore Geirrod sprang out, and, pushing it back into the sea with all his might, bade his brother sail away to the Land of Giants and never return.

Odin, feeling sure that all was well with the boys, had resigned his care for their safety and had returned to Asgard, and thus the giants were able to play him a trick, which they did by causing the wind to veer round, whereby Agnar was carried away to the edge of the world.

Meantime, the hard-hearted Geirrod ran cheerfully into his father's palace, and announced that he had come back alone from a desert island upon which his boat had been stranded, his elder brother having been drowned in the sea.

His father was overjoyed to see him, for he had given up hope of setting eyes on either of his sons again. He made him his heir, and in due time, when some years had passed away, he died, and Geirrod became king in his stead.

Now All-Father Odin had so many things to attend to that, as we have seen, he thought no more of his boy friends for many years.

Then at length, when Geirrod had sat for some time on his fathers throne, Odin looked from his high seat in Asgard upon him, and seeing with pleasure how great a man he had become, his thoughts turned to Agnar. For a time he could see nothing of him, but at last he discerned that he had returned in disguise to his brother's palace and was living there, unknown to Geirrod, as a servant.

Then Odin turned to Frigga, who sat by his side on the high seat, and said tauntingly, "Did I not always say that Geirrod was by far the better and braver and stronger of those two boys? Behold, although he is the younger, he sits upon his father's throne, while Agnar brews ale for his table."

To this Frigga quietly replied: "It is better to be a poor servant than a hard-hearted king. For see how rich is Geirrod; yet he turns away the guest from the door, and ill-treats those who ask a kindness at his hands."

"I will never believe it," said Odin, who could be very obstinate when he liked; "and to prove you are wrong I will disguise myself again as a wanderer, and ask for food and shelter from the king."

So he took his blue-grey cloak and broad-brimmed hat, and, with a pilgrim's staff in his hand, set off adown the Rainbow Bridge. Meantime, Frigga, determined to show that she was right, and to prevent Geirrod from receiving Odin with favour by mere chance, sent a swift and secret messenger, warning the king to beware of a man in a blue-grey mantle and wide-brimmed hat, for that he, a pretended wanderer, was an enchanter who would put the king under a spell.

Scarcely had the messenger fulfilled his mission when Odin knocked at the great door of the palace and begged for food and shelter. He had not the slightest doubt that these would be granted him, for inhospitality to strangers was one of the greatest crimes a Northman could commit.

Judge then of his surprise when, instead of being offered a seat at the supper-table and a bed for the night, he was seized by the beard, and dragged roughly into the presence of Geirrod.

"Where do you come from, and what is your name, O miserable old man?" asked the angry king.

"My name is Grimnir," answered Odin, now well on his guard, "but where I come from I will not say, since that is my concern alone."

Then the king's wrath knew no bounds, and finding it impossible to make the old man speak, he ordered that he should be chained to a pillar between two fires, whose flames scorched him on either side without actually burning him.

For eight days and nights was Odin imprisoned thus, and during all that time the cruel Geirrod would give him neither food nor drink, and kept close watch to see that he obtained them from no one else.

But one night, when the watchmen were drowsy from the heat of the fire, a serving-man came stealthily over the floor, a horn of ale in his hand. Holding this to the parched lips of the prisoner, he gave him a long, cool drink; and then did Odin recognize the features of Agnar, brother of the king, who should have been king in his stead.

The next evening, as Geirrod sat at the head of the table gloating over the sufferings of his prisoner, Odin suddenly began to sing. Softly the notes began, but soon they grew louder and louder, till the great hall echoed and re-echoed the song of triumph. And at length he sang how Geirrod, who had so long enjoyed the favour of the gods, was now about to meet the just reward of his misdeeds: