_ Siegfried, when he came to Gunther's castle, thought of
staying there but a few days only. But the king and his
brothers made every thing so pleasant for their honored
guest, that weeks slipped by unnoticed, and still the hero
remained in Burgundy.
Spring had fairly come, and the weeping April clouds had
given place to the balmy skies of May. The young men and
maidens, as was their wont, made ready for the May-day
games; and Siegfried and his knights were asked to take part
in the sport.
On the smooth greensward, which they called Nanna's carpet,
beneath the shade of ash-trees and elms, he who played Old
Winter's part lingered with his few attendants. These were
clad in the dull gray garb which becomes the sober season of
the year, and were decked with yellow straw, and dead, brown
leaves. Out of the wood came the May-king and his followers,
clad in the gayest raiment, and decked with evergreens and
flowers. With staves and willow-withes they fell upon Old
Winter's champions, and tried to drive them from the sward.
In friendly fray they fought, and many mishaps fell to both
parties. But at length the May-king won; and grave Winter,
battered and bruised, was made prisoner, and his followers
were driven from the field. Then, in merry sport, sentence
was passed on the luckless wight, for he was found guilty of
killing the flowers, and of covering the earth with
hoar-frost; and he was doomed to a long banishment from
music and the sunlight. The laughing party then set up a
wooden likeness of the worsted winter-king, and pelted it
with stones and turf; and when they were tired they threw it
down, and put out its eyes, and cast it into the river. And
then a pole, decked with wild-flowers and fresh green
leaves, was planted in the midst of the sward, and all
joined in merry dance around it. And they chose the most
beautiful of all the maidens to be the Queen of May, and
they crowned her with a wreath of violets and yellow
buttercups; and for a whole day all yielded fealty to her,
and did her bidding.
It was thus that May Day came in Burgundy. And in the
evening, when the party were seated in King Gunther's hall,
Siegfried, at the command of the May-queen,--who was none
other than Kriemhild the peerless,--amused them by telling
the story of
Idun and Her Apples.
It is a story that Bragi told while at the feast in AEgir's
hall. Idun is Bragi's wife. Very handsome is she; but the
beauty of her face is by no means greater than the goodness
of her heart. Right attentive is she to every duty, and her
words and thoughts are always worthy and wise. A long time
ago the good Asa-folk who dwell in heaven-towering Asgard,
knowing how trustworthy Idun was, gave into her keeping a
treasure which they would not have placed in the hands of
any other person. This treasure was a box of apples, and
Idun kept the golden key safely fastened to her girdle. You
ask me why the gods should prize a box of apples so highly?
I will tell you.
Old age, you know, spares none, not even Odin and his
Asa-folk. They all grow old and gray; and, if there were no
cure for age, they would become feeble and toothless and
blind, deaf, tottering, and weak minded. The apples which
Idun guarded so carefully were the priceless boon of youth.
Whenever the gods felt old age coming on, they went to her,
and she gave them of her fruit; and, when they had tasted,
they grew young and strong and handsome again. Once,
however, they came near losing the apples,--or losing rather
Idun and her golden key, without which no one could ever
open the box.
In those early days Odin delighted to come down now and then
from his high home above the clouds, and to wander,
disguised, among the woods and mountains, and by the
seashore, and in wild desert places. For nothing pleases him
more than to commune with Nature as she is found in the
loneliness of vast solitudes, or in the boisterous uproar of
the elements. Once on a time he took with him his friends
Hoenir and Loki; and they rambled many days among the icy
cliffs, and along the barren shores, of the great frozen
sea. In that country there was no game, and no fish was
found in the cold waters; and the three wanderers, as they
had brought no food with them, became very hungry. Late in
the afternoon of the seventh day, they reached some
pasture-lands belonging to the giant Hymer, and saw a herd
of the giant's cattle browsing upon the short grass which
grew in the sheltered nooks among the hills.
"Ah!" cried Loki: "after fasting for a week, we shall now
have food in abundance. Let us kill and eat."
So saying, he hurled a sharp stone at the fattest of Hymer's
cows, and killed her; and the three quickly dressed the
choicest pieces of flesh for their supper. Then Loki
gathered twigs and dry grass, and kindled a blazing fire;
Hoenir filled the pot with water from melted ice; and Odin
threw into it the bits of tender meat. But, make the fire as
hot as they would, the water would not boil, and the flesh
would not cook.
All night long the supperless three sat hungry around the
fire; and, every time they peeped into the kettle, the meat
was as raw and gustless as before. Morning came, but no
breakfast. And all day Loki kept stirring the fire, and Odin
and Hoenir waited hopefully but impatiently. When the sun
again went down, the flesh was still uncooked, and their
supper seemed no nearer ready than it was the night before.
As they were about yielding to despair, they heard a noise
overhead, and, looking up, they saw a huge gray eagle
sitting on the dead branch of an oak.
"Ha, ha!" cried the bird. "You are pretty fellows indeed! To
sit hungry by the fire a night and a day, rather than eat
raw flesh, becomes you well. Do but give me my share of it
as it is, and I warrant you the rest shall boil, and you
shall have a fat supper."
"Agreed," answered Loki eagerly. "Come down and get your
share."
The eagle waited for no second asking. Down he swooped right
over the blazing fire, and snatched not only the eagle's
share, but also what the Lybians call the lion's share; that
is, he grasped in his strong talons the kettle, with all the
meat in it, and, flapping his huge wings, slowly rose into
the air, carrying his booty with him. The three gods were
astonished. Loki was filled with anger. He seized a long
pole, upon the end of which a sharp hook was fixed, and
struck at the treacherous bird. The hook stuck fast in the
eagle's back, and Loki could not loose his hold of the other
end of the pole. The great bird soared high above the
tree-tops, and over the hills, and carried the astonished
mischief-maker with him.
But it was no eagle. It was no bird that had thus outwitted
the hungry gods: it was the giant Old Winter, clothed in his
eagle-plumage. Over the lonely woods, and the snow-crowned
mountains, and the frozen sea, he flew, dragging the
helpless Loki through tree-tops, and over jagged rocks,
scratching and bruising his body, and almost tearing his
arms from his shoulders. At last he alighted on the craggy
top of an iceberg, where the storm-winds shrieked, and the
air was filled with driving snow. As soon as Loki could
speak, he begged the giant to carry him back to his
comrades,--Odin and Hoenir.
"On one condition only will I carry you back," answered Old
Winter. "Swear to me that you will betray into my hands dame
Idun and her golden key."
Loki asked no questions, but gladly gave the oath; and the
giant flew back with him across the sea, and dropped him,
torn and bleeding and lame, by the side of the fire, where
Odin and Hoenir still lingered. And the three made all haste
to leave that cheerless place, and returned to Odin's glad
home in Asgard.
Some weeks after this, Loki, the Prince of Mischief-makers,
went to Bragi's house to see Idun. He found her busied with
her household cares, not thinking of a visit from any of the
gods.
"I have come, good dame," said he, "to taste your apples
again; for I feel old age coming on apace."
Idun was astonished.
"You are not looking old," she answered. "There is not a
single gray hair upon your head, and not a wrinkle on your
brow. If it were not for that scar upon your cheek, and the
arm which you carry in a sling you would look as stout and
as well as I have ever seen you. Besides, I remember that it
was only a year ago when you last tasted of my fruit. Is it
possible that a single winter should make you old?"
"A single winter has made me very lame and feeble, at
least," said Loki. "I have been scarcely able to walk about
since my return from the North. Another winter without a
taste of your apples will be the death of me."
Then the kind-hearted Idun, when she saw that Loki was
really lame, went to the box, and opened it with her golden
key, and gave him one of the precious apples to taste. He
took the fruit in his hand, bit it, and gave it back to the
good dame. She put it in its place again, closed the lid,
and locked it with her usual care.
"Your apples are not so good as they used to be," said Loki,
making a very wry face. "Why don't you fill your box with
fresh fruit?"
Idun was amazed. Her apples were supposed to be always
fresh,--fresher by far than any that grow nowadays. None of
the gods had ever before complained about them; and she told
Loki so.
"Very well," said he. "I see you do not believe me, and that
you mean to feed us on your sour, withered apples, when we
might as well have golden fruit. If you were not so bent on
having your own way, I could tell you where you might fill
your box with the choicest of apples, such as Odin loves. I
saw them in the forest over yonder, hanging ripe on the
trees. But women will always have their own way; and you
must have yours, even though you do feed the gods on
withered apples."
So saying, and without waiting to hear an answer, he limped
out at the door, and was soon gone from sight.
Idun thought long and anxiously upon the words which Loki
had spoken; and, the more she thought, the more she felt
troubled. If her husband, the wise Bragi, had been at home,
what would she not have given? He would have understood the
mischief-maker's cunning. But he had gone on a long journey
to the South, singing in Nature's choir, and painting
Nature's landscapes, and she would not see him again until
the return of spring. At length she opened the box, and
looked at the fruit. The apples were certainly fair and
round: she could not see a wrinkle or a blemish on any of
them; their color was the same golden-red,--like the sky at
dawn of a summer's day; yet she thought there must be
something wrong about them. She took up one of the apples,
and tasted it. She fancied that it really was sour, and she
hastily put it back, and locked the box again.
"He said that he had seen better apples than these growing
in the woods," said she to herself. "I half believe that he
told the truth, although everybody knows that he is not
always trustworthy. I think I shall go to the forest and see
for myself, at any rate."
So she donned her cloak and hood, and, with a basket on her
arm, left the house, and walked rapidly away, along the road
which led to the forest. It was much farther than she had
thought, and the sun was almost down when she reached the
edge of the wood. But no apple-trees were there. Tall oaks
stretched their bare arms up towards the sky, as if praying
for help. There were thorn-trees and brambles everywhere;
but there was no fruit, neither were there any flowers, nor
even green leaves. The Frost-giants had been there.
Idun was about to turn her footsteps homewards, when she
heard a wild shriek in the tree-tops over her head; and,
before she could look up, she felt herself seized in the
eagle-talons of Old Winter. Struggle as she would, she could
not free herself. High up, over wood and stream, the giant
carried her; and then he flew swiftly away with her, towards
his home in the chill North-land; and, when morning came,
poor Idun found herself in an ice-walled castle in the
cheerless country of the giants. But she was glad to know
that the precious box was safely locked at home, and that
the golden key was still at her girdle.
Time passed; and I fear that Idun would have been forgotten
by all, save her husband Bragi, had not the gods begun to
feel the need of her apples. Day after day they came to
Idun's house, hoping to find the good dame and her golden
key at home; and each day they went away some hours older
than when they had come. Bragi was beside himself with
grief, and his golden harp was unstrung and forgotten. No
one had seen the missing Idun since the day when Loki had
visited her, and none could guess what had become of her.
The heads of all the folk grew white with age; deep furrows
were ploughed in their faces; their eyes grew dim, and their
hearing failed; their hands trembled; their limbs became
palsied; their feet tottered; and all feared that Old Age
would bring Death in his train.
Then Bragi and Thor questioned Loki very sharply; and when
he felt that he, too, was growing odd and feeble, he
regretted the mischief he had done, and told them how he had
decoyed Idun into Old Winter's clutches. The gods were very
angry; and Thor threatened to crush Loki with his hammer, if
he did not at once bring Idun safe home again.
So Loki borrowed the falcon-plumage of Freyja, the goddess
of love, and with it flew to the country of the giants. When
he reached Old Winter's castle, he found the good dame Idun
shut up in the prison-tower, and bound with fetters of ice;
but the giant himself was on the frozen sea, herding old
Hymer's cows. And Loki quickly broke the bonds that held
Idun, and led her out of her prison-house; and then he shut
her up in a magic nut-shell which he held between his claws,
and flew with the speed of the wind back towards the
South-land and the home of the gods. But Old Winter coming
home, and learning what had been done, donned his
eagle-plumage and followed swiftly in pursuit.
Bragi and Thor, anxiously gazing into the sky, saw Loki, in
Freyja's falcon-plumage, speeding homewards, with the
nut-shell in his talons, and Old Winter, in his
eagle-plumage, dashing after in sharp pursuit. Quickly they
gathered chips and slender twigs, and placed them high upon
the castle-wall; and, when Loki with his precious burden had
flown past, they touched fire to the dry heap, and the
flames blazed up to the sky, and caught Old Winter's
plumage, as, close behind the falcon, he blindly pressed.
And his wings were scorched in the flames; and he fell
helpless to the ground, and was slain within the
castle-gates. Loki slackened his speed; and, when he reached
Bragi's house, he dropped the nut-shell softly before the
door. As it touched the ground, it gently opened, and Idun,
radiant with smiles, and clothed in gay attire, stepped
forth, and greeted her husband and the waiting gods. And the
heavenly music of Bragi's long-silent harp welcomed her
home; and she took the golden key from her girdle, and
unlocked the box, and gave of her apples to the aged
company; and, when they had tasted, their youth was
renewed.[EN#22]
It is thus with the seasons and their varied changes. The
gifts of Spring are youth and jollity, and renewed strength;
and the music of air and water and all things, living and
lifeless, follow in her train. The desolating Winter plots
to steal her from the earth, and the Summer-heat deserts and
betrays her. Then the music of Nature is hushed, and all
creatures pine in sorrow for her absence, and the world
seems dying of white Old Age. But at length the Summer-heat
repents, and frees her from her prison-house; and the icy
fetters with which Old Winter bound her are melted in the
beams of the returning sun, and the earth is young again. _