The Wayland-Dietrich Saga
CANTO I.
How Viking, King of Wilsenland, warred with Ortnit
of Russia and conquered him. How Viking met
Wachild the Mermaid.......The Mermaid's Curse.
........The Birth of their son Wade, and Death of
Viking.
Was fostered by old Mimer, there dwelt here,
Under the charge of the famed Master-Smith,
A lad named Wayland sent to learn the craft
With his two brethren. Sons were they of him
Called Wade, (1) Viking's son, of whom this tale
Was by our fathers told.
There lived a King (2)
Who reigned o'er Wilsenland, as it was called,
That now is known as Sweden; and the lands
Of Gothland, Seeland, Jutland, and therewith
Windland and Skaney, also Svithiod,
Were all comprised 'neath that name as one realm.
This King was Viking called, or Wilcinus,
Who was so famous for his victories
That after him was named the Wilsenland.
And he was said to spring of giant stock......
Men whispered 'neath their breath his father's name
Was Giant Thjassi, a son of him
Ivalde called, who came from Elfinland
To rule o'er Finland, if old tales be true, (3)
And of whose sins and fate ye have just heard.
This King his riders into Poland led,
Where they fought many battles fierce and fell,
Till Russian Ortnit came against him there.....
That mighty King sprung from a glorious line.....
Wolfdietrich (4) was his sire, the son of him
Who was Hughdietrich called and ruled the realm
Of Eastern Europe.......Kaiser was he styled,
And dwelt in Micklegard, the Golden Burgh
That Greeks Byzantium call unto this day.
Men said Hughdietrich was in truth a God,
That Odin's blood ran in his children's veins,
So wondrous was his might, so great his fame.
Ortnit his grandson ruled in Viking's time
O'er Russia, Hungary, great part of Greece,
And almost all that now is Austrian realm.
This with his brother Hirder he did share,
Who also won dominion over Spain,
Forefather he of Dietrich, Lord of Bern.
These two with Viking over Poland fought,
But Viking won the victory and laid waste
All Poland and the seacoasts that lay near.
He rode in Russland and there took great towns......
Smolensk, Palteskia, Kiëff........till he came
At last to Holmgard, (5) Ortnit's capital,
A noble city. Then was the strife fierce
Outside the Burgh, and Ortnit raging came
With countless gallant riders gallopping
From out the gates thereof, but Viking fought
To such good purpose that he won the day;
And Hirder fell, the brother of the King,
With whom too fell of Russians many men,
Though some were captured and ransom held.
Then was the Burgh abandoned, Ortnit fled,
And Viking sacked the city. It is said
He gained therein such treasure and such gold,
Silver and precious gems, that ne'er before
Had his eyes seen such wondrous glorious store,
Nor had he ever such a victory won.
Ortnit soon after fain would treat for peace......
His brother dead, his city ta'en, all lost.....
His might too little and his friends too few
To risk another battle. Glad was he
To hold the kingdom still, though on hard terms.....
Tribute in gold and treasure must he pay,
And eke in kind, in cattle and in gear,
For all his land each year while they two lived,
Unto King Viking; who with all his host
Rode through the Russian lands and marked their worth,
Ere home to Wilsenland he fared in pride.
Now of King Viking further it is told......
And I should know, for I was with him then
On my first voyage as a stripling lad;
And ere he died he told yet more to me......
That as he one time sailed the Eastern Sea
With nine longships a warring, his ships lay
Just off the mainland at the dawn of day
Waiting a favouring wind. We landed there......
While that our men their casks with water filled
From a fresh spring that gushed from out the cliff,
Some of us fished, and some would play at games,
While others washed their garments on the beach.
But our young King went wandering o'er that shore,
Till in a little wood he sauntering came
Alone, no man of all his fleet with him......
'Twas a deep inlet where our warships lay,
With mountains girt about, and meadow lands
Bordered the shore that sloped up to the hills.
The morn was fair ........ The birch trees' feathery spray
Scarce swayed in the light breeze, their silvery stems
Shone rosy in the sunlight, in the shade
Pale lavender and gold. It was a day
Early in June. The mountain air was keen,
Yet warm the sun on Viking's half bare limbs.......
For he had doffed his mail; in linen shirt
And leathern breeches he went lightly clad,
But wore his sword fast girded to his side......
A goodly man was he in his young days,
Broad-shouldered, tall, fair-haired, with keen blue eys
That flashed fierce as a hawk's, and quailed 'fore none......
And he was light and active, and could run
Faster than most men when he had a mind......
Behind the birch copse a dark pinewood rose
That clothed the lower ramparts of the hills.
Above the swaying tops of the great pines
Soared rugged cliffs unto the snow-clad peaks......
On the right hand an open glade stretched far,
Slope upon slope, that gently rising shewed
A rolling meadow covered with short grass;
Like velvet moss and brilliant was its green
Strewn thick with deep blue-purple gentian bells
That in the sun glowed azure as the sky......
And from this tapestry of blue and green
Rose up white wind-flowers, great anemones,
O'er which were hovering red-brown butterflies,
And busy toiled the fuming turbulent bees.
The glorious mass of colour here and there
Was broken by great boulders, yet not bare
These might rocks, but with rich golden tints......
Deep orange, vivid crimson, emerald green......
By strangely coloured lichens were they stained;
And in the crevices and crannies grew
White saxifrage and gold anemones,
Pale sulphur hued. The vernal gentians near
Shewed all their varied tints, from deepest blue
And rich red purple to a faint blush-white
And palest lilac........Yellow rock-roses,
With blue forget-me-nots of heavenly hue,
Displayed their pretty blossoms in the grass,
Mingled with violas of varying shades
From deepest purple to pale mauve and white.
Amongst the rocks the rose-red soapwort grew,
And in the grass bloomed deep pink primulas.
Here too sprang clovers.......crimson, yellow, white,
Roseate, pale pink.......in such profusion they
Bid fair to hide the gentians' glorious blue......
And midst them lilies grew of Paradise, (6)
Whose pure white petals shone within like gold.......
Thus purple, white, and rose, with gold and blue
Combined in lovely shades of every hue
To please the eye, while on the listening ear
Came call of cuckoo from the beechwood near......
A merry blackbird sang, a thrush sweet trilled,
A redstart piped, not far from the wood's edge.
Across this flowery plain wound little streams,
And where they ran was marshy, boggy ground.......
The rose primulas with gentians here
Shewed like a rippled sea of pink and blue,
Starred with the yellow globe-flowers as by gold.
A shining river through the birch-wood rushed
In frothy tumult racing to the sea.......
Its verdant banks were carpeted with flowers,
Night-scented orchis, sweet Satyrian; (7)
The lilac-turbanned orchis, fragrant too,
With many another. Rose-pink campion bloomed,
And here were yellow violets, and there
O'erhanging the steep slope drooped, white and gold,
The mountain avens.......The cool shady wood, (8)
To weary wayfaring and travelling men,
Held out a promise of sweet rest within,
And healing shade from the fierce noon-day sun;
For it was filled with songs of little birds
And the deep soothing hum of many bees.......
Over the flowers flew brilliant butterflies,
Some orange-tipped, some white with rosy spots,
That the Greeks say Apollo chose when he
Would have new border on his chlamys set;
And here flew clouded yellow ones in shoals,
And there bright blue, there some of copper hue,
Went flashing fragile wings of gay allure;
And sober-tinted moths with feathery wings
Fluttered in slower and sedater flight......
Here milk-white spiders, (9) others light pea-green,
Ran o'er the heads of rosy primulas.......
There tiny iridescent beetles shone,
Basking on fragrant herbs, or frolicking
Midst the wild peppermint, and in and out
Popped green and yellow lizards......Everywhere
The meads and woods were throbbing with quick life.
Now was the time high noon and Viking thought,
Though he was young and lusty and untired,
That it were pleasant to lie on the turf
Beneath the waving branches, there to dream
Of forays wild, and hard-fought conflicts won,
Of victories past, of triumphs yet to come,
Until the wind should change and his men hail
Their leader......Then would he set sail.......
But now he had a mind within this wood
To wander, and perchance to sleep awhile......
And as he trod the sward with heedless feet,
Crushing the tender buds at every step,
In his young veins the hot impetuous blood
Responded to the fervent call of Spring;
So with light heart he whistling came within
The precincts of the wood......The springy turf,
Soft 'neath his feet, gleamed brilliant green and gold,
With little potentillas spread.....Quick dancing lights
Flickered through the green canopy o'erhead.....
Idly he went, yet still with practised eye
Scanning the sward for track or slot of deer,
Or other game, and as he passed he stopped
To pluck a gentian; for right well he knew.....
Had not his foster-mother told him so.....
That the blue gentian is the herb of Tyr,
Lucky to warriors, and moreover, it
Is good to mix with wine for weary men;
For such its might medicinal it doth
Refresh the footsore, and 'gainst the plague is good.......
In hidden remedies t'is often used,
Though sharp and bitter is it to the taste......
'Twas first discovered, so the story goes,
By Gentius of Illyria, hapless King,
By Romans captured, who by them was led
In triumph through the crowded streets of Rome;
Nor might his skill in plant-lore save this Prince,
Who for long weary years was prisoner,
Eating his heart out in captivity,
Ere death in mercy came to give release......
For which cause some this flower unlucky deem.
Now, as the Sea-King rose and in his hand
Held the blue gentian, 'tween the birch trees' boles
He saw a vision of such beauty rare
That his fierce blood rushed coursing through his veins......
A maid more lovely than he e'er had seen......
And many women he had captive made
On his wild raids, and many rued his name......
More like a faery than of mortal kin
She seemed to him, as she in graceful poise
Stood on the river's brink, full in the sun
Her white form gleaming.....Still the crystal drops
Glistened upon her shoulders as she wrapped
About her daintily a blue-green cloak,
Whose filmy tissue hid her in its folds,
Veiling her beauty. She thought none was nigh,
And as she turned to leave that place she sang
As joyfully as lark at break of day,
And singing thus, she passed through the birch wood,
Stooping at times to pluch a wayside flower......
But, on a sudden, startled, seeing where
A stranger stood, an armed man of the sea,
So close she might not gain the river's edge,
She turned and fled fast through the wood, as flies
A timid hind to avoid the hunter's spear,
And from his ravening hounds to save herself.......
Yet ever as she fled quick glances cast
Over her shoulder; and so fair her face,
So full of agile grace her flying form,
That Viking in his ardour gave hot chase,
And swifter e'en than she he lightly ran,
Laughing o'ertook the lovely fugitive,
And round her slender neck, ere she could scream,
His strong hand held her fast a prisoner......
Yet not ungently, but with soothing words
He spake unto this maiden of the woods,
Calming her fears......At first she fiercely strove,
But with soft speeches and kisses he beguiled
The captured maid until unto his will
She proved obedient......If by force compelled,
Or with her free consent, scarce could he tell
Nor stayed to ask, but took what he desired
In Vikings' way. Content was he to hold
Her panting form, content to hear low words
In unknown tongue, part plaintive, part in wrath,
But wholly sweet, he thought, as silver bells,
Though to their import he turned a deaf ear.....
And more than all content to see her face
In wayward mood like April sky appear
Fair at one moment, clouded o'er the next,
Till like the sun that shines through mist, she smiled,
Subdued at last, and spake in his own tongue
Soft words of love, then sank in his strong arms......
Unheeded swiftly sped the happy hours
Until the sun, high in the heavens, began
A little to decline, a breeze arose,
And all the wood was shot with dancing rays
Of golden light......Loud shouts and cries were heard,
And a noisy blare of horns, as Viking's men
Went seeking their lost Master.....Laughing he
Rose from the moss-grown turf where 'neath an oak
He took his pleasure....... "Come, sweet love," said he,
And would have ta'en his captive by the hand,
"I go to meet my men......Shalt sail with us,
And be a Sea-King's bride"......But as he spake,
The maiden by his side, evading him,
Slipped past and leapt into the swift, deep stream,
There sank and vanished........Yet young Viking thought
He saw from out the swirling water gleam
A silvery scale as of some monstrous fish,
And much he wondered what this thing might mean,
As somewhat sobered he went t'wards the beach.....
Yet naught at this time said he to his men,
Who crowded round him as he came to them
From out the enchanted wood......The wind arose
And we embarking sailed far from that shore.....
But when some way we had drawn from the land
With favouring breeze that on our quarter blew,
We heard a sound of calling from the sea......
Not like a shipwrecked mariner's harsh bawl,
But wailing low as mother mourns her babe
Who has been reft from her and stol'n away......
And many there were seized with sudden dread
And pity for that cry. But Viking stood
Holding the tiller of his ship, nor quailed,
And if his hand shook, no man there could see,
As down through the green water's depths he stared
With keen bold eyes, amazed yet unafraid.
He saw the maid whom he met in the wood
Rise up from out the hollow of the sea,
And near the stern of his own ship she swam
That all men saw her......Threat'ning now she looked,
And lo! No maid but sea monster appeared
As to her nether half.........With shining tail
That was with gold and silver covered o'er
And iridescent green and purple scales,
She lashed the waves till boiled the stormy sea........
Now scarce our footing kept we, as aghast
We clung to the ship's bulwarks or her mast,
Waiting in awe-struck silence, stupified,
As our strong vessel staggered, quivering......
The mermaid gripped the steering oar so fast
That our ship fell aback, and the great sail
Flapped idly in the wind.......Men stood as stunned,
Gaping in helpless wonder at the sight......
At first she spake not, at least I heard naught,
Who stood next Viking, but the daring King
Said with firm courage, "Let us go in peace.....
If I have wronged thee I will make amends......
These men of mine are innocent, spare them,
Nor harm for my sake those who have not erred.....
An thou hast aught to say to me, then come
Into my land, O wondrous one, and there
Will I well greet thee truly......Thou shalt stay
With me for ever, cared for lovingly.....
Fit wife for Sea-King is a Sea-Goddess,
Thy wrath I dread not, I desire thy love."
Yet as he spake he shuddered 'gainst his will.
She shewed no soft complaisance in her looks,
But rather anger, as she fiercely frowned,
Speaking some words that we but partly heard,
And did confuse their meaning, which none grasped
Save Viking only, who turned ghastly pale;
Yet still contrived to meet her mocking gaze
With fierce undaunted eyes, for in those days
Our King feared naught, not e'en the Devil's self.....
As far as I can tell the words were these,
Who with mine own ears heard and marked them well,
Yet knew not at that time what they might mean;
But like the roaring of the sea they seemed,
And lapping of the waves 'gainst the ship's sides......
"Dost think," she cried, "that a Sea-Goddess comes
To dwell with mortal who has wronged her sore?
Know, Wachild, Ægir's daughter, does not so.......
What if I seemed consenting, 'twas that I
Might through thy sin work thy dire punishment......
Far from the sea we are as mortals weak,
And lose our magic power when on dry land.
For that, presumptuous, thou mine honour stained,
When I, unable to regain the stream,
Was helpless 'fore thee as an earthly maid,
Now will I curse thee, Viking, in thy race,
In Death's dark Halls no solace shalt thou find,
Knowing thy seed is destined to disgrace,
And thou shalt find me stern, who thought me kind.
Thou, O most daring one, thou who didst tempt me,
Deeming quick victory won, soon thou'lt repent thee.....
Soon will I come again..... Price of my grief and pain
Lay in thine arms, O King Viking the Mighty!
Sea-maiden's love, King, is not won thus lightly.
Though great the hero be, who of our ancestry
Shall come on the morrow, yet trouble and sorrow
For thy sake shall he know.......To Viking's seed cometh woe,
Even to thy son, thy son's son, and his son......
Nor will I have mercy till his end be come,
To the third generation shall my wrath strike home.......
One way of escape is there, one way alone,
By which for his sins and thine to atone........
If he keep firm his oath, deny not his troth,
From his pledged word ne'er falter.....Then shall my mood alter......
Rest he true to his friend, of my curse is an end......
So shall he win through and none shall molest him.
If he fail he is doomed........All men shall detest him.
Thy soul shall watch him fall, till the last dregs of all
Sorrow he knoweth......It is thy hand bestoweth
His punishment, Viking.......Not I, but thy crime, O King,
Shall on thy seed bring the Judgement of Odin......
I have ended my curse.......In thy heart be foreboding!
Yet at the last if he perchance repent
E'en at the eleventh hour I may relent......
By his friend's hand first must he seek release,
Ere in the end his tortured soul find peace.......
If by betrayed the traitor is forgiven,
Then he from Hell may hope to climb to Heaven.......
O'er Christian soul who is shrived of his sin
We Seafolk have no power without, within......
Thou, Viking, who shalt suffer in thy race,
With them endure their bitter punishment,
In thy seed's pardon, haply, shalt win grace.......
With this faint hope, no more, be thou content"......
She loosed her hold and we sailed on our way,
So came with a fair wind to Sweden home.
When nine months and a day had passed there came
A woman to the King's house, seeking him;
Tall was she and well-shapen, muffled o'er
In a green silken mantle that none saw
Her close veiled face, if it were fair or foul.
When to the King she came she swift unveiled;
He knew her well.......It was the Sea-maiden.....
And 'neath her cloak she hid a fair boy babe,
Whom she laid in his arms, and so withdrew
Ere he could stay her......No man saw her go,
Though the old warder on the seaward tower,
Babbling that night over his ale cups, said
He saw a mighty fish's fin that hour
Gleaming like gold and silver, and the sea
Rose in great waves as though a storm drew nigh,
Yet ne'er a breeze, nor cloud in the clear sky.
The King called the child Wade, (10) care
Had the babe nurtured. Soon he grew apace......
It was too plain the boy would giant prove.....
Nor was he like to mortal men, for he
Favoured his mother's kin in many ways.....
'Twas said that he could live beneath the sea.....
At least 'tis true like any duck he dived,
And could stay under longer than most men......
Therefore was he soon looked upon askance,
And thought to have an evil mind and mood;
So for this cause was liked not overmuch
By those at the King's Court, and Viking's self
Loved him not greatly; feared the youth, perchance,
Whose presence aye reminded him of that
He would forget, of Wachild's dreaded curse.
So passed the years and Viking took a wife,
Well-born, fair-favoured, rich and passing proud,
Who bore him Nordian, his favourite son.
They liked young Wade less e'en than his Sire,
And feared his might and his unfriendliness,
For he seemed sullen who was loved by none.
Then Viking gave unto his eldest born
Twelve Courts in Seeland, bidding him go there
And dwell apart from him. This Wade did......
Now these Courts lay in divers parts, and some
Were situate in Jotaland (11), and some
In Danish Zealand, but the most
Lay in the land that Blekingen (12) is called,
Part of the mainland east of Scandia,
That once I think was Seeland also called,
By reason of the great and mighty lake
That in those days was a still greater fjord,
And to the sea had exit, but now barred
By a long strip of shore and meadow land
Forms a large lake, Santa Maria hight.
Not long time passed ere the old King fell sick,
And ere he died he gave to Nordian,
His younger son, his Kingdom and his Realm;
Who on his father's death ruled all his land.
This Nordian was a great man and a fierce,
Strong beyond most men, hard and grim of mood,
And grudging was he of his goods and gear,
Not kindly to his kinsfolk, so he won
Not so much praise as Viking 'mongst the folk.
When in his hour of need he craved their help
He found it not. I left him for my part,
And sought my father's house in Grœning town,
There stayed for some long season ere I went
South to seek service with King Sigmund's son.
Notes:
1. or Watte. [Back]
2. Cf. Thidrek's Saga, ed. Bertelsen, ch. 34 (22). [Back]
3. Rydberg, Teut. Myth. pp. 604-5. [Back]
4. Cf. Deutsches Heldenbuch, Berlin, 1866-73, Vols. III. and IV. (Ortnit-Wolfdietrich
Saga). [Back]
5. Novgorod. [Back]
6. Cf. Bartholomew on Lilies. "De Proprietatibus
Rerum," trans. J. Trevisa, and Rohde Old English Herbals, p. 48. [Back]
7. Bacon, Essay on Gardens. [Back]
8. Cf. Bartholomew (Rohde, p. 52). [Back]
9. Cf. Flemwell Flower Fields of Alpine Switzerland, p. 62. [Back]
10. Thidrek's saga, ed. Bertelsen, ch 36 (23). Raszmann, II. (Saga v.d. Wilcinen,
ch. 23). [Back]
11. Jutland, see Erik Pontoppidan, Danske Atlas, Vol. IV., p. 857. [Back]
12. See Bring. Mon. Scan. I. 301-302. Sv. Grundtvig I. 424 f. Raszmann II.,
pp. 258-264. [Back]
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