Asgard and the Gods
The Tales and Traditions of Our Northern Ancestors
PART TWELFTH.
BALDUR'S DEATH. HOW WALA WAS CONJURED UP
The myth tells us that when Mother Night sank as usual into Nifelhel, Day followed her looking bright and glorious. His golden-maned horse bore his glittering chariot across the heavens. But soon a grey mist rose and hid the shining equipage. The sun looked down sadly upon Midgard and upon Asgard, as though through a thick veil, and seemed as if mourning some dreadful catastrophe. A dense fog rested upon Breidablick, so that its golden roofs and battlements were invisible. The gods and goddesses hastened to the assembly full of dismay about the departure of Iduna and Baldur's dreams. They shook and cast the runes, and those of death lay uppermost. Terror seized the Ases, but Odin rose in all his majesty and said
"I foresee only too clearly what is about to happen; yet will I call up Wala from the realm of the dead, and she shall give me a sure answer to my questions as to what will come to pass."
Then he saddled Sleipnir and rode off swift as an eagle, to the north towards Nifelheim.
Meanwhile, the gods consulted together and proposed various plans. At last it seemed to them that the best thing they could do would be to make all living creatures, and even by means of magic power force every inanimate object, to swear to do no hurt to Baldur's holy body.
Frigg, the anxious mother of the god of light, herself undertook the task. She went through every country as quickly as the sun passes over the sky. And all mortal men, the Hrimthurses, the Light-Elves, the Water-sprites, and even the Black Elves, that race which shuns the light, swore a solemn oath not to harm the Well-beloved. Trees and plants, stones and metals were also bound over to spare Baldur.
Meanwhile, Odin rode through dark glens down to Nifelheim. A dog with gaping jaws came out to meet him from the kingdom of Hel, and as he came drops of blood fell from his jaws upon his neck and chest. He stood still and howled as the god rode past. Odin hastened to the eastern gate of the dark abode. There he found the mound of Wala who had long been dead. The Father of the Gods dismounted. He stood on the grave mound that was surmounted by a memorial stone, and began his incantation, the song that awakened the dead.
"Awake, Wala, awake from thy death-sleep! Arise from out the grave wherein thou hast rested so long! Three times do I strike thy dwelling-place with my runic staff that thou mayst know no more peace on thy bed of mould, until thou hast given me a true answer to my questions."
He then struck the grave thrice with his mighty staff, and the ground shook, the stone sank down, the earth opened, and pale Wala arose wrapped in her shroud.
"Who is it?" she asked in a hollow voice, "that troubles my repose? Snow has covered my bed, and the rains and dews have watered it for many years. I have long been dead."
Odin replied: "Wegtam (knower of the road) is my name, and I am the son of Waltam (knower of battles). Speak, for whom has Hel prepared the benches with rings and the golden beds?"
She answered: "A shining goblet is standing ready for Baldur the good, which he must drink with Hel to the woe of the Ases. If I am forced to speak I must make known the coming evil; grant me therefore silence."
"Thou shalt not be silent!" cried the god, "until I know all that I dimly foresee. Who is it that is to send the glorious son of the Father of Battles down to Hel's dismal abode?"
Then the prophetess said dejectedly: "The brother will send his brother there, the god of darkness will send the god of light, Hödur will send the son of the Father of Battles down to the realm of Hel. Forced to speak, I have to make known the misfortune that was coming; grant me now silence."
The King of the Gods, who was accustomed to look future events in the face without fear, stood there drawn to his full height, and went on questioning Wala. He asked who was to avenge Baldur, and bring death upon the murderer. She told him that Odin would have a son by Rinda who would grow up in one night, who would not wash his hands nor comb his hair until he had brought the murderer to the funeral pyre. Then he asked the name of the woman who alone of all creatures would not weep for Baldur the well-beloved.
"Thou art not Wegtam," she cried, "thou art Odin and knowest all things. Go home now to Asgard. Thou hast awakened the dead with thy mighty runes, and made her speak with thee. None other will disturb my slumber until Loki is free again and the gods are about to pass away."
We have given this ghastly but beautiful poem almost in its entirety, and have only endeavoured to make some vague expressions somewhat clearer, and to smooth away a few discrepancies.
The poet probably saw that the days were growing shorter, and that the sun scarcely showed above the horizon in the far North, while a cold frosty mist covered land and sea; these were to him the signs of the approach of winter, of the death of the god of light. Odin had a foreboding of what was about to happen, but could only gain certain intelligence in the realm of the dead. So the poet let him descend there and question Wala who had long been dead.
Joy had returned to the green home of the gods. Baldur's life seemed to be secure now that all animate and inanimate things had been bound by an oath to do him no harm. Who would hurt the darling, the light of the world? The Ases laughed and jested, played with golden balls, shot arrows, flung spears and aimed blunt weapons at Baldur for fun, and not one of these missiles struck his holy body. It was as though an invisible power turned them aside as they approached him, for all, wood, metal and stones were sworn over to spare him.
The Ases then tried sharp weapons, and to their delight found the result the same. Loud was the laughter when it was discovered that the best aimed blow of a sword did not touch him, that spears, stones and arrows missed him.
Frigg heard the shouts and cheers as she sat in her golden halls of Fensaler, and longed to know what was the matter. At this moment an old woman limped past leaning on her crutch. The queen signed to her to enter, and asked her what was going on. The old woman immediately gave her a long description of what she had seen, ending by saying that Baldur was standing smiling in the midst of the hail of weapons looking as if they were only flowers with which he was being pelted. And Frigg's heart rejoiced within her as she thought of the strength of the Ases, and of how she had conquered the evil fate that was to have come upon her son.
"Yes," she said, "everything that is in heaven and earth and under the earth swore willingly to do no hurt to the giver of light and joy, of growth and bloom."
"Thou must have had hard work," said the old woman, "but of course thou didst not think it necessary to bind the grass and flowers and other harmless things with an oath?"
"No trouble was too great to take for our darling," answered the goddess, "and the only thing I passed over was the little plant of mistletoe growing on the great oak at the gate of Walhalla, and that really does not matter, it is so soft and so weak a thing that it could do no harm."
"Thou art a careful mother," said the old woman; "it would have been very unwise to have passed over the flowers, for in their perfume a deadly poison is often hid. But as for the mistletoe, that only grows and bears seed in the cold winter time, it could not hurt the god of light."
With these words the old woman took leave of the queen, and continued her walk down the lonely road that led to Walhalla. When she reached the great oak at the gate on which the tiny plant of mistletoe grew, she threw off the woman's dress, and behold it was Loki, looking more diabolical than ever! Until now he had only rejoiced in the misfortunes of the Ases, and had done them injury now and then by his cunning, but had always been forced by their threats to help them out of the scrapes he had got them into; now, however, envy and jealousy were driving him to commit a horrible crime.
He drew circles, muttered many a magic spell, and touched the tiny mistletoe twig with the end of his crooked stick, and immediately it grew as long as the shaft of a spear. Then he tore it down from the tree, cut away the side branches and knots, and made it resemble a spear in every respect.
"Thou seemest so young and weak," he said, with a scornful laugh, "let us see whether thou art not stronger than all the weapons of these foolish jesting Ases, stronger than that much bepraised and famous Baldur."
He went to join the Ases, and found them still amusing themselves as before. Strong Hödur was standing outside the circle, taking no part in the games.
"Why art thou so lazy?" asked Loki, "thou art the strongest of all the Ases, so why dost thou not fling a spear in Baldur's honour?"
"I have no weapon, and I am blind," answered Hödur; "night is all around me, before me and behind me."
"Here is a spear for thee," said the tempter, putting the mistletoe bough in his hand; "I will direct it for thee; now fling it with all thy might."
Hödur did so, and - the sun lost its light, the earth quaked - the murder, the patricide was committed - Baldur lay stabbed to death on the ground, the blood flowing from his side on to the darkening earth. Breathless and silent the gods stood around; they could not take in the monstrous, the terrible fact; it almost seemed as if they themselves had received a death-wound. When they were able to move, some of them crowded round the corpse and watered it with their tears, while others asked eagerly who it was that had done the evil deed.
"Dark Hödur threw the spear," was shouted on every side. Friendless Hödur stood alone as ever in the midst of the excited Ases; Loki had deserted him at once, as the tempter always does, leaving his victim to bear his misery alone.
Darkness surrounded the luckless Ase, and darkness reigned in his soul. He heard the curses and threats that echoed on every side, and the clash of the swords and spears that were turned against him. Suddenly Allfather appeared in the midst of the Ases, grave and calm, and in all his divine majesty. His own forebodings, and Wala's prophecy, had prepared him for what had happened. It was Orlog's will and neither gods nor men could do aught to hinder it. So he, the Father of Heroes, bore his sorrow without cowardly complaint; in spirit he saw the approach of Ragnarök and was determined to fight the hopeless battle to the end, for even mortal heroes do not let the sword fall from their dying hands until their last strength is exhausted. He commanded his people to cease their clamorous woe, to raise the corpse of the Well-beloved, to dress it in clean garments, and prepare the funeral pyre.
Then came Frigg, Odin's faithful wife, her eyes red with weeping. But now she checked her tears, for she thought she had found a way to regain her darling.
"Which," she asked, "which of you brave sons of the Ases will ride down to Helheim and will dare to entreat the goddess of the Under-world to restore Baldur, the light of the world, to Ase-heim? He who does this shall be held highest in my esteem and in that of Allfather."
Hermodur, the swift, immediately offered to be her messenger to the realm of shades. He at once saddled Sleipnir and set out on his journey.
The myth of the sun-god Baldur and of his death and resurrection is very old. The Teutonic races brought it from their original home, and formulated it in the northern lands to which they emigrated in accordance with the rude climate and the mode of life to which they had there grown accustomed. The sun-god was worshipped by all the Aryan nations, had costly sacrifices offered to him, and prayers and songs made for him. The Semitic peoples also, the Babylonians, Phoenicians, etc., regarded him as the god who blessed arts and manufactures, trade and ships. The festival of Adonis and the mysteries of Mithras, which the Romans brought into Europe from the East, clearly have reference to the death of the sun-god after the summer solstice, and to his resurrection after the winter solstice, and traces are still to be found of the Mysteries of Mithras in such parts of Germany as the Romans settled in.
The Ases were still standing about the corpse of Baldur. The body was dressed in its grave-clothes and laid upon Baldur's own ship Hringhorn. By Odin's command the wood for the funeral pyre was heaped high on the deck of the vessel, so that the flames might be seen in every land.
Nanna was standing beside her dead husband. She had no tears with which to weep for him, her low shuddering sobs alone showed the intensity of her grief. When the torch was lighted with which the wood was to be set on fire, her heart burst with sorrow and she sank down beside the corpse pale and lifeless, like a broken flower.
So the sorrowing Ases laid her on the pyre by her husband, and beside them they placed the horse of the god, which had to die with its master. Then Odin added the golden ring Draupnir, from which eight other rings dropped every ninth night. He also whispered a word in the ear of his son, so low that none of the bystanders could hear. Perhaps it was the comforting assurance of resurrection to a new and better life.
Crowds had assembled to gaze upon the sad spectacle and join the Ases in showing their respect for the darling and benefactor of the world. The Walkyries were there leaning on their spears, and the Dises wrapped in their dark veils; the Light-Elves and the Wood and Water-sprites were also there. Besides these came the Mountain and Frost-giants, and even the Black-Elves.
Odin's ravens fluttered sadly round the ship; they knew well what the gods and heaven and earth had lost. The ship had been drawn up on the shore and placed upon rollers, that it might be pushed down into the water before being set on fire. But it was so heavy, because of the quantity of wood and costly gifts piled upon it, that it was impossible to move it. Then the Mountain-giants said that a woman named Hyrrockin, who lived in Jotunheim and who could move mountains unaided, would soon shove the ship into the water if some one would go and fetch her. So a Storm-giant started at once in search of her. She soon came, but not borne on the wings of the messenger as they had expected; she was riding a monstrous wolf, whose bridle was a horrible snake.
She dismounted and looked round her scornfully, as though she regarded all present as a set of weaklings, after which she gave her strange steed into the charge of four Berserkers whom Odin sent to hold it. Whilst these managed to hold the wolf with infinite difficulty, the woman went up to the ship and pushed it into the water with the first shove; but the friction was so great that the rollers caught fire. This enraged Thor so much that he swung Miölnir preparatory to throwing it at the woman's head; but all the Ases entreated him to be calm, and to remember that Hyrrockin had come under their safe conduct, and that she had been of service to them. He allowed himself to be appeased, and got into the ship to bless it with his hammer. While doing this the little dwarf Lit got into his way, and he kicked him into the fire, so that he was burnt with the corpse. The flames mounted high into the air and sky; earth and sea were reddened with them. They made known to the whole world that the god of innocence, love and righteousness was dead, and that his blessings were lost to them henceforth.
It was not at all uncommon for the dwellers on the sea-coast to bury their dead on board their ships. It was a very ancient custom, and still existed after grave-mounds and the burning of the dead had been introduced. Even amongst the Allemannes by the Rhine and Danube we find coffins carved like boats. There are many stories about this mode of burial, amongst others that regarding St. Emmeran.
Frigg alone of all the Ases still nourished hope of her son's restoration. She believed that Hel would allow herself to be moved by Hermodur's intercession, and would permit Baldur to return to the Upper-world. The divine messenger set out on his journey to the Under-world. Sleipnir bore him for nine nights through dark valleys and glens into which no ray of light penetrated. The silence of death was all around, and the only sound to be heard was that made by the horse's feet. At length Hermodur reached the banks of the river Giöll, which divides the kingdom of the dead from that of the living.
He was about to ride over the gold-covered bridge that spans the Giöll, but the gigantic porteress Mödgud (spiritual conflict) came forward and asked him what he was doing there.
"Yesterday," she said, "crowds of dead rode over the bridge, and yet they did not make as much noise as thou alone; and besides that, thou hast not the colour of death. Speak, what dost thou, a living man, want with the dead?"
"I seek for Baldur, my dear brother, who was slain. For his sake I have ridden down the Hel road that I may entreat the goddess to let him go free. If thou hast seen him, show me where I may find him."
Hermodur ceased, and the porteress pointed to the north, as she said that she had seen Baldur ride over the bridge, and he was even now with Hel.
Then Hermodur continued his journey fearlessly, until at length he reached the fence round Hel's abode, and there he could find no mode of entrance.
It was a question of his brother's restoration, so he did not hesitate. He dismounted, drew the girths tighter, and then remounting set spurs to Sleipnir, and Odin's horse leapt high over the fence and landed safely on the other side.
Hermodur was now in the realm of shades, and surrounded on every side by grey rocks which seemed to stare at him with hollow eyes.
He felt as though in a dream, as he made his way to a house he saw before him. He entered, and there he saw the queen of the land, stern of aspect and adorned with gold and diamonds. She was pale as death, and her eyes were fixed upon the ground. She knew no mercy, for the golden light of the sun had never shone on her. Near her was Baldur, seated on a throne, and looking wan as the withered wreath of flowers on his head; by his side was Nanna, who had died for love of him. A golden goblet filled with sweet mead stood before him untouched.
Hermodur approached him, and spoke to him of his return to Ase-heim, which Hel would certainly permit, as every creature longed for it. But Baldur shook his head and pointed at Nanna, as if he wished to say, "Take her with thee, she is too young for the world of shades." And she crept closer to him, whispering, so low as to be almost inaudible, "Death and the grave cannot destroy true love; Nanna (blossom) remains with him who gave her life and being. I will stay with thee for ever." So the three talked together for a whole night. Next morning Hermodur asked Hel to restore Baldur to the Ases, for not only the gods, but also every one in heaven and on earth, mourned for him.
The goddess rose from her dark throne, the gold and diamonds on her breast shone with an unearthly lustre, and the abyss trembled.
She answered in a monotonous voice: "If all creatures mourn for him, if everything that has life weeps for him, then, in accordance with the eternal decree, Baldur may once more return to the light of day; but if one eye refuses to weep for him, he must remain in Helheim. There is no other choice."
Hermodur knew that what the goddess had said was unalterable. He took leave of his brother and Nanna.
Both went with him to the door, Baldur gave him the ring Draupnir to return to Odin, as that symbol of plenty was worthless in the kingdom of the dead. Nanna sent Frigg a veil and other gifts, while to Fulla she sent a golden ring with which one day to adorn the blooming bride.
The divine messenger now set out on his return to the Upper-world and Asgard, and when he got there he told all that he had seen and heard. The Ases looked upon his news as good news, and at once sent servants into all parts of the universe to call upon every creature and every inanimate object that had life to weep for Baldur.
Tears hung like pearls from every flower and plant, they dropped like dew from the leaves and branches of the trees, and the very metals and stones exuded moisture. On their road home the messengers passed by a dark cave, in which they found the giantess Thock (darkness), who was as terrible to look upon as Hel herself. They asked the woman to shed a tear, so that Baldur, the god of light, might return; but the giantess answered
"Thock can only weep with dry eyes for Baldur's death. He was of no use to her living or dead, so Hel may keep what she has got."
The messengers vainly strove to soften the hard heart of the giantess; but she vanished from their eyes into the black depths of the cavern, and they could see her no more.
So they continued their journey sadly; but one of them said that he had recognised Loki in the woman's dress. And then at once their eyes were opened and they said that he was right. When they brought the sorrowful tidings to Asgard, loud was the lamentation of the gods, for they knew that Baldur's return was hopeless.
Days passed, and every day made their loss appear greater. Whenever the Ases assembled under the holy oak, the word vengeance was on their lips. It was the first law, the highest duty, the oldest justice, and had been exercised from the earliest times. But it was difficult to carry out, for Hödur avoided the light of day; he only went out at night, and his Ase strength grew in the darkness. He was blind and could use neither spear nor bow. It was known, however, that the Wood-demons had given him a magic shield to protect him and also a terrible magic sword, and every one feared to meet him in the dark night. So Hödur used to glide about through the lonely forest like a ghost at midnight without fearing the avenger of blood, whose duty it was to punish him for the crime of patricide.
One day, a lad with a child-like face and a strong, well-knit figure walked in at the gate of Asgard. He pursued his way as if he knew where he was going, and when he reached Walhalla, he tried to enter, but the door-keeper stopped him, saying
"No youth with uncombed hair and unwashed, hands is allowed to enter here."
The lad pushed him aside and went into the hall unannounced. The Ases and Einheriar gazed with pleased surprise at the youthful stranger, and Odin called to him to approach, adding in a loud voice
"This is Wali, my son by the lady Rinda, - this is he who is called to the holy work of the avenger."
Then the Ases said amongst themselves: "How is it possible for a youth like this to conquer strong Hödur?"
"It is true that I am young, that I am only one night old," cried the lad, "but still I shall conquer Hödur, in like manner as young May conquers strong Winter."
Night came; Hödur walked as usual along the dark paths he knew so well. Suddenly lie heard a voice exclaim
"Murderer of Baldur, beware, the avenger is nigh."
The god of darkness girded his magic shirt closer round him, and advanced with his drawn sword towards the place from which the voice had come. Then an arrow hissed through the air, a second and a third followed, and the last struck the blind god to the heart. The bowman's shout of triumph was so loud that it echoed throughout Asgard, and all the gods and goddesses hastened to the spot.
There is no doubt that this is the description of the victory of Spring over Winter. As we learn from Saxo, it was originally Baldur himself who conquered Hödur, the god of the long night of winter; but when the myth of Baldur became part of the great universal year, the story of Wali, the god of spring, was added, and he it was who avenged his brother's murder.