Thelma
complain,--my own time is short." His former anger calmed a little--the
brooding irritation of his mind became gradually soothed.
"Rose of my heart!" he whispered, tenderly apostrophizing the memory of
his wife,--that lost jewel of love, whose fair body lay enshrined in the
king's tomb by the Fjord. "Wrongfully done to death as thou wert, and
brief time as we had for loving;--in spite of thy differing creed, I
feel that I shall meet thee soon! Yes--in the world beyond the stars,
they will bring thee to me in Valhalla,--wheresoever thou art, thou wilt
not refuse to come! The gods themselves cannot unfasten the ties of love
between us!"
As he half thought, half uttered, these words, the reindeer again
stopped abruptly, rearing their antlered heads and panting heavily.
Hark! what was that? A clear, far-reaching note of music seemingly
wakened from the waters of the Fjord and rising upwards, upwards, with
bell-like distinctness! Gueldmar leaned from his motionless sledge and
listened in awe--it was the same sound he had before heard as he stood
by Lovisa Elsland's death-bed--and was in truth nothing but a strong
current of wind blowing through the arched and honeycombed rocks by the
sea, towards the higher land,--creating the same effect as though one
should breathe forcibly through a pipe-like instrument of dried and
hollow reeds,--and being rendered more resonant by the intense cold, it
bore a striking similarity to the full blast of a war-trumpet. For the
worshipper of Odin, it had a significant and supernatural meaning,--and
he repeated his former action--that of drawing the knife from his girdle
and kissing the hilt. "If Death is near me," he said in a loud voice, "I
bid it welcome! The gods know that I am ready!"
He waited as though expecting some answer--but there was a brief,
absolute silence. Then, with a wild shriek and riotous uproar, the
circling tempest,--before uncertain and vacillating in its
wrath,--pounced, eagle-like, downward and grasped the mountains in its
talons,--the strong pines rocked backwards and forwards as though bent
by Herculean hands, crashing their frosted branches madly together:--the
massive clouds in the sky opened and let fall their burden of snow. Down
came the large fleecy flakes, twisting dizzily round and round in a
white waltz to the whirl of the wind--faster--faster--heavier and
thicker, till there seemed no clear space in the air. Gueldmar urged on
the reindeer, more anxious for their safety than his own--the poor
beasts were fatigued, and the blinding snow confused them, but they
struggled on patiently, encouraged by their master's voice and the
consciousness that they were nearing home. The storm increased in
fury--and a fierce gust of frozen sleet struck the sledge like a strong
hammer-stroke as it advanced through the rapidly deepening
snow-drifts--its guiding lantern was extinguished. Gueldmar did not stop
to relight it--he knew he was approaching his farm, and he trusted to
the instinct and sagacity of his steeds.
There was indeed but a short distance to go,--the narrow wooded defile
opened out on two roads, one leading direct to Bosekop--the other, steep
and tortuous, winding down to the shore of the Fjord--this latter passed
the _bonde's_ gate. Once out of the shadow of the pines, the way would
be more distinctly seen,--the very reindeer seemed to be conscious of
this, for they trotted more steadily, shaking their bells in even and
rhythmical measure. As they neared the end of the long dark vista, a
sudden bright blue glare quivered and sprang wave-like across the
snow--a fantastic storm-aurora that flashed and played among the
feathery falling flakes of white till they looked like knots and
closters of sparkling jewels. The extreme point of the close defile was
reached at last, and here the landscape opened up wide, rocky and
desolate--a weird picture,--with the heavy clouds above repeatedly
stabbed through and through by the needle-pointed beams of the aurora
borealis,--and the blank whiteness of the ground below. Just as the
heads of the reindeer were turned into the homeward road, half of the
aurora suddenly faded, leaving the other half still beating out its
azure brilliance against the horizon. At the same instant, with abrupt
swiftness, a dark shadow,--so dark as to seem almost palpable,--descended
and fell directly in front of the advancing sledge--a sort of mist that
appeared to block the way.
Gueldmar leaned forward and gazed with eager, straining eyes into that
drooping gloom--a shadow?--a mere vapor, with the Northern Lights
glimmering through its murky folds? Ah no--no! For him it was something
very different,--a heavenly phantasm, beautiful and grand, with solemn
meaning! He saw a Maiden, majestically tall, of earnest visage and
imperial mien,--her long black hair streamed loose upon the wind--in one
hand she held a shining shield--in the other a lifted spear! On her
white brow rested a glittering helmet,--her bosom heaved beneath a
corslet of pale gold--she fixed her divine, dark eyes full upon his face
and smiled! With a cry of wonder and ecstacy the old man fell back in
his sledge,--the reins dropped from his hands,--"The _Valkyrie_! the
_Valkyrie_!" he exclaimed.
A mere breathing space, and the shadow vanished,--the aurora came out
again in unbroken splendor--and the reindeer, feeling no restraint upon
them, and terrified by something in the air, or the ceaseless glitter,
of the lights in the sky, started off precipitately at full gallop. The
long reins trailed loosely over their backs, lashing their sides as they
ran--Gueldmar, recovering from his momentary awe and bewilderment, strove
to seize them, but in vain. He called, he shouted,--the frightened
animals were utterly beyond control, and dashed madly down the steep
road, swinging the sledge from side to side, and entangling themselves
more and more with the loose reins, till, irritated beyond endurance,
confused and blinded by the flash of the aurora and the dizzy whirl of
the swiftly falling snow, they made straight for a steep bank,--and
before the _bonde_ had time to realize the situation and jump from the
sledge--crash! down they went with a discordant jangle of bells, their
hoofs splitting a thin, sharp shelf of ice as they leaped
forward,--dragging the light vehicle after them, and twisting it over
and over till it was a mere wreck,--and throwing out its occupant head
foremost against a jagged stone.
Then more scared than ever, they strove to clamber out of the gully into
which they had recklessly sprung, but, foiled in these attempts, they
kicked, plunged, and reared,--trampling heedlessly over the human form
lying helpless among the shattered fragments of the sledge,--till tired
out at last, they stood motionless, panting with terror. Their antlered
heads cast fantastic patterns on the snow in the varying rose and azure
radiance that rippled from the waving ribbons of the aurora,--and close
to them, his slowly trickling life-blood staining the white ground,--his
hair and beard glittering in the light like frosted silver,--his eyes
fast closed as though he slept,--lay Olaf Gueldmar unconscious--dying.
The spear of the Valkyrie had fallen!
CHAPTER XXXII.
"Bury me not when I am dead--
Lay me not down in a dusty bed;
I could not bear the life down there,
With the wet worms crawling about my hair!"
ERIC MACKAY.
Long hours passed, and the next day dawned, if the dim twilight that
glimmered faintly across the Altenfjord could be called a dawn. The
snow-fall had ceased,--the wind had sunk--there was a frost-bound,
monotonous calm. The picturesque dwelling of the _bonde_ was white in
every part, and fringed with long icicles,--icicles drooped from its
sheltering porch and gabled windows--the deserted dove-cote on the roof
was a miniature ice-palace, curiously festooned with thin threads and
crested pinnacles of frozen snow. Within the house there was
silence,--the silence of approaching desolation. In the room where
Thelma used to sit and spin, a blazing fire of pine sparkled on the
walls, casting ruddy outward flashes through the frost-covered
lattice-windows,--and here, towards the obscure noon, Olaf Gueldmar awoke
from his long trance of insensibility. He found himself at home,
stretched on his own bed, and looked about him vacantly. In the earnest
and watchful countenance that bent above his pillow, he slowly
recognized his friend, companion, and servant, Valdemar Svensen, and
though returning consciousness brought with it throbs of agonizing pain,
he strove to smile, and feebly stretched out his hand. Valdemar grasped
it--kissed it--and in spite of his efforts to restrain his emotion, a
sigh, that was almost a groan, escaped him. The _bonde_ smiled
again,--then lay quiet for a few moments as though endeavoring to
collect his thought. Presently he spoke--his voice was faint yet
distinct.
"What has happened, Valdemar?" he asked. "How is it that the strength
has departed from me?"
Svensen dropped on his knees by the bedside. "An accident, my Lord
Olaf," he began falteringly.
Gueldmar's eyes suddenly lightened. "Ah, I remember!" he said. "The rush
down the valley--I remember all!" He paused, then added gently, "And so
the end has come, Valdemar!"
Svensen uttered a passionate exclamation of distress.
"Let not my lord say so!" he murmured appealingly, with the air of a
subject entreating favor from a king. "Or, if it must be, let me also
travel with thee wherever thou goest!"
Olaf Gueldmar's gaze rested on him with a musing tenderness.
"'Tis a far journey," he said simply. "And thou art not summoned." He
raised his arm to test its force--for one second it was uplifted,--then
it fell powerless at his side. "I am conquered!" he went on with a
cheerful air. "The fight is over, Valdemar! Surely I have had a long
battle, and the time for rest and reward is welcome." He was silent for
a little, then continued, "Tell me--how--where didst thou find me? It
seems I had a dream, strange, and glorious--then came a rushing sound of
wheels and clanging bells,--and after that, a long deep silence."
Speaking in low tones, Valdemar briefly related the events of the past
night. How he had heard the reindeer's gallop down the road, and the
quick jangling of the bells on their harness, and had concluded that the
_bonde_ was returning home at extraordinary speed--how these sounds had
suddenly and unaccountably ceased,--how, after waiting for some time,
and hearing nothing more, he had become greatly alarmed, and, taking a
pine-torch, had gone out to see what had occurred,--how he had found the
reindeer standing by the broken sledge in the gully, and how, after some
search, he had finally discovered his master, lying half-covered by the
snow, and grievously injured. How he had lifted him and carried him into
the house, . . .
"By my soul!" interrupted the _bonde_ cheerfully, "thou must have found
me no light weight, Valdemar! See what a good thing it is to be a
man--with iron muscles, and strong limbs, and hardy nerve! By the Hammer
of Thor! the glorious gift of strong manhood is never half appreciated!
As for me--I am a man no longer!"
He sighed a little, and, passing his sinewy hand across his brow, lay
back exhausted. He was racked by bodily torture, but,--unflinching old
hero as he was,--gave no sign of the agonizing pain he suffered.
Valdemar Svensen had risen from his knees, and now stood gazing at him
with yearning, miserable eyes, his brown, weather-beaten visage heavily
marked with lines of grief and despair. He knew that he was utterly
powerless--that nothing could save the noble life that was ebbing slowly