The Wayland-Dietrich Saga
HOW WAYLAND FETCHED THE VICTORY STONE FOR KING NITHAD, AND HIS REWARD THEREFOR.
And with him Wayland, the right famous Smith,
Who Völund was by the Varangians called
In later days. Nithad knew not his name,
For Wayland kept it secret, knowing well
That Nithad loved not Viking or his kin.
Oft had King Viking raided Sweden's shores,
And had won land from Nithad and ta'en toll,
Ruling o'er Sweden as the overlord;
But Nithad since his death had won him free,
Nor ever tribute paid to Nordian.
Now Wayland stayed there forging for the King
All kinds of jewels, gold and silver ware,
Using all metals that a man may work.
In later days so famous was this Smith
Through the whole Northern half of the known world,
That 'twas a common saying of men's tongues,
When they would praise some special work of art,
To say the man who made it was in truth
A Völund in his skill.......So runs the tale......
Wayland with Nithad stayed in honour great
And well entreated, held by every one
As the most famous and most skilled of men;
Nor had he, as it seemed, at that time wish
To better his good fortune......Friend was he
With Otwin, Nithad's son, then but a lad.
Young Otwin's sister, Bathilde, it was said,
Looked on the mighty Smith with kindly eyes;
But naught was known, 'twas only wild surmise,
How these things stood between them. Wayland seemed
Wrapped in his work and had no time to raise
His eyes to the King's daughter.......He said naught.
But Nithad's Queen, in her o'erbearing pride,
Thought it ill done that one who was a Smith
Should be thus honoured. In her haughty mood
She looked on him with cold suspicious eyes,
Fearing lest Princess Bathilde shewed to him
Who was of low degree, or so she thought,
Undue attention. So she ever sought
To keep the two asunder, and would speak
Against him to the King maliciously.
Yet he at that time paid but little heed;
So went the thing in this wise, and time passed.
Now as one day King Nithad sat at board,
Came men before the King and told him news
How a great host was raiding in his realm,
Led by King Lodver, (2) out of Shetland come,
Falling with fire and sword on all the land
And doing heavy damage. Then the King
Summoned his warriors and led forth his host.
Five days they marched towards the enemy
Ere they drew nigh their outposts, then made halt.
That evening, when the King's Tent had been pitched,
He recollected suddenly that he
Had left behind his Stone of Victory,
Which lay at home forgotten in the rush.
Now ye must know that in these days some Kings,
As was the custom, had these Victory-Stones,
Whose property it was that whoso held
To him fell victory in the battlefield;
And such men usually would own these stones
Who were proved warriors, or thought themselves
Good heroes, or did dangerous deeds of skill.......
Yet I know not if this strange virtue lay
Embedded in the stone itself......Perchance
The magic spell worked more through the deep trust
Men had in these same stones.......I cannot say.....
Be that as it may be, King Nithad thought
It was an ill mischance that his rare stone
Had been thus left behind. He called to him
His counsellors and truest friends, and said
That he would give the half of his fair realm
And therewith his young daughter to that man
Who would go fetch the stone and bring it him
Ere that the sun should rise twice in the East.
Many had a goodwill unto the feat,
But few there had sufficient confidence
In their own powers the journey to attempt
In such short time as this, for now the day
Was almost ended, soon would fall black night.....
Too well they knew King Nithad's hasty mood
Would spare no man who failed. So all sat mute.
When the King saw that no one had a mind
To venture on this quest, somewhat aggrieved,
He called to Wayland to draw near to him.
Quoth he, "My good friend Goldbrand, what say'st thou?
Wilt undertake the journey?" Who replied,
"Lord, at thy word I'll set forth certainly,
If thou wilt do as thou has now proclaimed."
Said Nithad, "On mine honour as a King
Have I now sworn, upon my word rely."
Then forth fared Wayland mounted well indeed,
For he rode his good stallion Schemming called;
The splendid horse he had brought from the South,
From the famed stud of Studfas named the Old, (3)
Called also Adelger......The steed that he
Left on Wisara's bank when he embarked.
Some time since then he had sent Studfas word
Of how the horse was lost; for Studfas erst
For service done had sold it when a colt
To the two dwarves. He begged him to seek well
And send him news thereof. This Studfas did,
And what is more, sent him the horse itself,
For which Smith Wayland paid him well in truth
By forging a good harness of great price;
Byrnie, mail coat and helm for Studfas' self,
Which later was by his son Heimir worn
In many a hard fought battle.......This good steed
Was one of Sleipnir's foals and brother he
To Grani, Sigurd's horse. In colour grey,
Swift as the flight of birds was Schemming's pace,
And strong and beautiful the noble beast,
Nor ever faltered in his raking stride.
Then through the long dark night rode Wayland fast,
Nor tarried once, but rode on all next day;
And in one day and night rode he as far
As the King's host had traversed in five days,
So came at midnight to the Royal Burgh,
Rousing the sleepy warders. Passing in,
He took the Victory Stone from its safe place,
Then rode back with great speed until he came
Near the King's Tent, and it was not yet morn.
Now as he rode he sang in merry wise,
And this the burden of his joyful song:
"Bridle and saddle and girths bring ye!
Harness for Schemming......Here, give them me!
None shall saddle my steed but I......
So shall my horse the swifter fly
To fetch the King's Stone, the Victory Stone,
That none may bring but I alone!
Lightly, Schemming, lightly go!
Through the sleeping Camp step steady.......So
Lightly, lightly dancing; caprioling, prancing,
Out of the Lager we leaping bound.......
Before us lies the open ground......
To fetch the King's Stone, the Victory Stone,
I ride on my way.......And I ride alone!
On, good Schemming, on we go
O'er heath, moor, and marshland speeding......
Now, Schemming, shew thy breeding!
No whip to spoil thy hide, no spur to gall thy side,
Shalt thou, my horse, be needing,
When we fetch the King's Stone, the Victory Stone,
That none may find but I alone!
'Tis not dark on the world, though wondrous cold,
For the crystal stars are shining......
The moon gives her light, so clear and bright,
Each cloud has its silver lining.......
Now it grows dark.......Hark! Schemming, hark!
Thor's thunder loud is pealing;
Yet the lightning flash as on we dash
Our path is plain revealing.......
Ere dawn reddens the skies, ere the sun shall rise,
We must fetch the King's Stone, the Victory Stone,
That none may grasp save Wayland alone!
Hurtling we crash o'er rock, fell and fen,
And trampling dash through the lonely glen,
Through the dismal pine wood we pick our way,
Longing in vain for the light of day......
The great boughs shake overhead, and break
With a rending smash, and down in the dale,
Where the greenwood begins and the pine trees fail,
The chill wind shrieks through the quivering leaves
Of a swaying ash, and the birch trees tall
Bend 'fore the gale......Who is it doth call?
What eldritch scream would my heart appal?
Strange sounds are borne on the blustering breeze......
'Tis the howl of wolves and the raven's croak......
See! See! Where hangs on yon riven oak
The corpse of a thief.......A woe and a grief
Was his death to his mother, if to none other.....
A full spear's length above my head
Hangeth his body long time dead......
The mocking wind doth ruffle the hair
That a woman once stroked, and the jesting breeze
Sways his swinging limbs till he danceth on air,
While his empty eyeholes grimly stare
At the carrion crows that fly round him there......
The night grows chill and my blood doth freeze
In my veins, but still with a steadfast heart
I will play my part. Come up, good horse!
Beyond the murk wood now lies our course
To where the King's Stone, the Victory Stone,
Waiteth for Wayland, for Wayland alone!
Now over the cobbled streets of the Town,
Rousing its warders, we dash with a clatter;
Those who would stay us we charge and we scatter;
Then leap the stockade.......So on and down
The steep stony hill; and the rushing rill
At its foot Schemming clears in his raking stride,
As he thunders along in his strength and pride
Past castle and cottage, where sleeping men
Turn in their beds when the rattle and roar
Of Schemming's hooves sweep past their door.....
Startled they wake......They sit up and quake,
And trembling think it an evil dream,
As from hard-struck flint there flashes a gleam
By Schemming's hoof struck.......On, on, my steed!
Of thy best pace sore have I need........
Like an arrow shot from a giant's bow
We flit through the valley and flying go
Gallopping, gallopping, gallopping on,
Till the noise of our passing dies down and is gone;
Till the sound of thy hooves is lost in the night,
As ever faster we fare on our flight.
Then the wondering wight who waked returns
To his sleep again......But on amain
My Schemming dashes with loose-hung rein.
Not urged by spur doth my grey horse fly,
But with fiery ardour blazes his eye!
Oh! My mood is merry, my heart is light,
As I ride through the night on my steed of might,
To fetch the King's Stone, the Victory Stone,
That none may hold but I alone!
Swiftly, Schemming, swiftly go,
Gallopping, gallopping, gallopping. Oh!
With a whirlwind dash, like the lightning flash,
With a rattle and rush through the mud, mire, and slush,
We leap the river with never a quiver.....
Steady, boy, steady! Hold thyself ready!
Over we go!........So, Schemming, so!
We'll fetch the King's Stone, the Victory Stone,
That none may bring save I alone!
Ho, Warders! Wake! Good speed now make!
Let down the Drawbridge and raise up the Door!
Don't make me wait! Open the Gate!
Be quick, ye sluggards! For never before
Was there need for such speed.......
King Nithad doth wait.......I must not be late!
Then haste ye, haste ye! Raise up the Door.'
Give me the Stone! I must be flown
Ere the Dawn comes up o'er the Eastern Hills......
Ere the Sun lights the plain or shines on the rills
We have far to go, my Schemming and I......
Farewell! Ye sleepy Guards! We'll fly......
While ye lazy slumbering, snoring, lie.....
With King Nithad's Stone, the Victory Stone,
That none may carry save I alone!
So gallopping, gallopping, hustle we back!
Through lone dusky hollows, past tarns deep and black;
Over marsh, moor and fen; through the dark forest vale;
Clearing hedge, ditch and dyke, leaping mere and stream,
Riding and racing as in a dream.......
If foes would be chasing, we'll leave them behind,
For my Schemming's flight doth outstrip the wind......
Rushing and dashing......On, on we are flashing!
Gallopping, gallopping, gallopping back!
Nor doth Schemming slack, nor for high courage lack;
Speeding amain, with loosened rein,
His neck extended, yet strength not expended,
Baulking not, faltering not, well in hand
Gallops my horse o'er the meadow-land.
We fly! We fly! No foe may come nigh
When my Schemming doth race at his topmost pace.
O Schemming, mine own! 'Tis we alone
Have won the King's Stone, the Victory Stone!
As o'er the hill's shoulder we winding turn,
The Camp fires below I see brightly burn.....
No more need we roam......With the dawn we are home!
One more spurt, good steed! Then from bridle freed
Thou shalt graze at will, oats and hay thy meed.
Come gallop, dear Schemming! Come gallop! Come fly!
Gallopping, gallopping, gallopping by,
Past outpost and sentry, not heed their cry......
Stay not for their loud warning,
As we race home in the dawning......
'Tis we, not they, have won the Stone!
The proud Queen for her scoffing shall now atone......
In triumph I ride to win a fair bride,
And store of gold if the King's word hold.....
What care I for folks' scorning?
The King's daughter so fine shall be bride of mine,
They shall drink my health in the blood-red wine
When I ride hom with the dawning!
Wake! Wake! King Nithad, rouse thee, and own,
As thou tak'st from my hand thy Victory Stone
That 'twas won by Wade's son Wayland alone.......
By Wayland the Smith in the morning!"
Now as in joyful wise Wayland made bound
His good horse Schemming in gay caprioles,
There came towards him from the encamped host,
Riding together, seven armed men,
Who took their steeds to water at the ford.
They were the sentries, who the Horse-watch kept
During that night, and now did ready make
To ride back to their Quarters. They were led
By Gram, (4) the King's Chief Butler. Then came they
And greeted Wayland well, as he did them.
Quoth Gram, "How dost thou, friend o' mine? Say now
Hast thou the Stone of Victory? Can it be?
Upon my soul thou'rt not like other men
In anything.....How couldst thou get it then
In such short time? Methinks thou dost but jest,
Though Nithad loves not jesting overmuch."
Said Wayland laughing "I am well content,
I hope I have the stone......Aye......Here it is.
I did but do my best, 'twas no great thing."
Said then the Butler loudly, " 'Pon my troth
Thou art a wonderworker who dost all
That thou hast mind to".......But low down he said,
"A word, friend, in thine ear......I pray thee now
Give me this Luckstone.....For I would right well
Win the King's daughter. 'Twere more fitting that
One of my rank should wed her, than that thou
Who art not noble should aspire to her.....
Yet think not that I mean thee evil, man;
Let me but bear the Luckstone to the King,
And say I fetched it for him, then will I
Give thee for it much silver, aye, and gold,
Therewith my friendship will I grant to thee".......
Quoth Wayland to the Butler scornfully,
Reining his horse in with a careful hand,
"Thou couldst have ridden for it, couldst thou not,
Even as I if thou hadst had the heart?
But now I hold it in my hand, nor think
That any take it thence, except the King.
A fine thing truly dost thou ask of me!
To lie for thy sake.....Nay, it shall not be......
Hold off, and let me pass!" Then angrily
Cried the King's Butler, "Though thou hast the Stone,
Yet by the Gods thou shalt not win the maid!
Foolish art thou to think that thou, a smith,
A man of low degree for all thy fame,
Shalt wed the Princess, who has been refused
To better men than thou......Aye, men of birth,
The highest in the land"......He spake in wrath,
For he had long desired her as his wife,
Hoping to win the King's consent at last,
Which Nithad had as yet to all refused.
Quoth Wayland unconcerned, good-humouredly,
Yet with a mocking note, "Well, well, good Sir,
An I win not the Lady, all shall know,
In Camp and Court and throughout Nithad's realm,
How Goldbrand the great Smith did lack a wife,
Though he the Victory Stone brought to the King
And trusted in his honour." Grimly he
Eyed the King's Butler, who cried furiously,
"An thou'lt not hand me over the Luck-stone,
For which I offered thee my friendship, fool,
And golden gifts......Why, devil take me, but
Thou shalt have what thou'st not bargained for.....
Seize him, my men! Draw swords, and ring him in!
He is a traitor and would harm the King........
Give up the Stone, thou dog, therewith thy life!"
They all pressed on him, thronging him, but he
Drew Mimung in an instant and swung down
The mighty Sword on Gram. But once he struck,
It was enough......Through helm and head and trunk
The keen blade swept, nor came it to a halt
Until it rang upon the saddle-bow.
The Smith released his blade and swiftly smote
Another rider on the neck, whose head
Flew far afield, and yet a third time he
Struck with strong hand a Knight who shrank aghast
Leaning upon his horse's neck, crouched low......
His head was smitten, with that stroke the blade
Sheared through the charger's neck unto the bone,
So that to earth fell dead both man and horse.
The others waited not, but from him fled,
Deeming him one possessed by the foul Fiend.
Wayland, sword sheathing, rode on to the King
And found him but just risen. In his Tent
He dressed and armed with aid of his four swains. (5)
Wayland, low kneeling, gave his Lord the Stone,
And was well greeted by him. Then he rose
And told the King of all that to him chanced
Upon his journey. Nithad heard well pleased,
Nodding his head and smiling, till he learned
How Wayland had met Gram, and how that he
Had slain the Butler...... "In defence, my Liege,
Of mine own honour I have ta'en his life.....
I will not lie, O King.......Thy man lies dead
And two Knights with him. He would cozen thee,
Taking the credit of my deed.......I thought".......
But Nithad, glaring at him, said, "Thor's Wrath!
Goldbrand, hast thou slain Gram my Butler.....What?
And two good Knights as well? Then take, thou dog,
But little thanks from me for thy foul deed.
I do not credit thy false mouth........It lies.....
Who knows it was not Gram that fetched for me
My precious Luck-stone, Key of Victory......
Thou dost betray me.....Thou dost own thou'st killed
My best and dearest vassal......Evil hound,
Out of mine eyes! Go quickly while thou mayst,
Ere my men kill thee as thou dost deserve,
Nor ever come before my face.....Go.......Go!
Far from my land, far from my memory......
An thou goest not and dar'st to linger here,
I'll have thee strung up to the nearest tree
To die disgraced as doth the lowest thief."
Then Wayland turned to go, but in his rage
As he came near the door he stayed and cried,
Looking at Nithad straight between the eyes,
"I see thy purpose, King; such outcry thou
Dost loudly raise against me, not because
Thy servants fell, but that thou wouldst' forsooth,
Break now thy compact and thy firm sworn oath.
But let not any think that they shall find
Good fortune if a King breaks his pledged word;
Though I myself think not I have ill luck.....
Thy daughter's naught to me......Yet know, false King,
I am well born as thou..... My grandsire's name
Was Viking, King of Sweden.......I am he
Who am called Wayland, Wade's son.........Our kin
Were ever bitter foes to thee and thine.
Thou hast usurped the Crown that should have been
Not thine, nor Nordian's whom thou dravest out,
But mine, as head of Viking's famous race.....
Look to thyself, King".........Even as he spake
Roared Nithad, "Seize him!" But it was too late,
Wayland had gone in angry mood from thence;
Leaping on Schemming he rode far away
Ere men cold stay him from his headlong course.
So was he driven out with shame and scorn
From Nithad's Camp; but that same day the King
Fought with his foes and won the victory.
He set peace in that land and hied him home
With fresh won fame and glory; and he thought
He had done well, nor had he any doubts
Or qualms as to his doings, but dwelt now
In peace and honour as became a King;
Then for some time no news of Wayland came,
Nor any knew what had befallen him,
Though Nithad made enquiry. Fain was he
To catch the famous Smith to punish him
For his presumptous bearing and ill words;
But he had fled the land nor could be found.
Notes:
1. Thidrek's Saga, ed. Bertelsen, 111 (69)—118 (71). [Back]
2. Cf. Elder Edda Völundarkvitha, ed. Hildebrand and Gering, p. 212 (line 8)
and st. 2. [Back]
3. Also known as Heimir the Old, and as Madelger. [Back]
4. For the Butler's name, cf. Simrock, Amel. Lied. (Wieland der Schmied) Avent.
22, p. 182. [Back]
5. Swains = Squires. [Back]
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