[CHAPTER IX]
THE SENTENCE OF BRUNNHILDE
For a moment Brunnhilde stood there watching with a strange exaltation the figure of Sieglinde as it grew ever dimmer in the dimness of the plumed pines, and when it was now quite vanished she turned again, and stood yet awhile with clenched hands and knitted brow, so that she might be mistress of herself when the heavy wrath of Wotan fell on her, and disgrace not her own nature nor the bright company of her fearless sisters. Little she seemed to care what doom he might mete out to her, for at the worst he could but deal her swift death, and if the sons of men could die bravely and blithely, meeting the face of death as they would meet a friend's face, could she do less, she the first of the children of Erda? For all that, she was afraid, and with her fear there cut her like a two-edged sword the pang of remorse that she had disobeyed him whom her soul loved. Yet in this matter she knew well that were that choice again before her, she would do again as she had done, and not otherwise, for pity had enlightened her, and that sweet mandate was binding on her.
Then lifted she her eyes and saw that the height where her sisters had watched was already quite hidden by the thunder clouds that had driven so swiftly from the north, and it was as if black night encompassed the place. And from the middle of the cloud came the unceasing roar of thunder and the wild lanterns of the lightning flashed all ways at once. Then for a moment they ceased, and out of the middle of the cloud came the voice she loved, and it was more terrible than all the thunderings. Not very loud was it, but therein lay wrath as deep as the sea, and unappeasable as the desert's thirst; and it called her by name. And when Brunnhilde heard that she stood very still.
But the other Valkyries wailed among themselves when they saw that their father Wotan had even now reached the place, and loudly they bewailed for their sister Brunnhilde, for by his voice they knew that Wotan was exceedingly wroth. Then suddenly at the sound of their wailing, the fountains of fear were altogether loosed within Brunnhilde, and she felt sick with very terror, and her knees shook together. And she who had never besought aught for herself, besought them now.
"Sisters, sisters of mine, help me!" she cried, "for the sickness of fear has come upon me, and my heart is pierced. Surely his rage will crush me utterly, if you protect me not. Stand round me, let me hide among you, that he come not on me alone."
Then were her sisters full of pity for her, for none could "gainsay or resist her appeal; and in a company they ranged themselves upon a little rocky height that was there, all eight of them, and Brunnhilde they set in their midst, and she cowered down among them. Thus it might be that Wotan would suppose that she had not joined her sisters in fear of his displeasure, and that thus he might seek her elsewhere. And they whispered to her to be, of good cheer, and crouch low in the midst of them, and not answer to his call. This she did; and they grouped themselves round her on the rocky point, and thus awaited the coming of Wotan. Yet the bravest of them were afraid at the thought of the wrath that was coming, for they had seen him alight from his chariot on the mountain-top close above them, and in the calm of his anger there was that which was more terrible than the bellowing thunder or the lightning stroke. Then without haste came he down and stood before them. In his right hand he held the ashen spear, and his left hung by his side with fingers clenched, and his glorious face, before which the earth trembled, was very still and set; only the point of his spear trembled like an aspen leaf as he held it, and the Valkyries knew the wrath that shook him. Then he opened his mouth and spake very gently.
"Where is Brunnhilde?" said he, "for after her and her wickedness am I come. Do you think to hide her from me, or that ye will veil her and her evil deed from the reward I mete out to it?"
Then one and another replied to him, hoping to turn away his wrath; and one said that nought that she could do was so terrible as the anger with which he sought her; and another asked what it was that had so moved his rage; and yet another spake of the heroes they had slain that day, thus vainly seeking to cool his anger. But to their replies he answered not; only the trembling of the head of the ashen spear grew more violent, and at the last he broke out, no longer being still and calm in his wrath, but with an outburst of such rage as they had not dreamed was there. For all that, it was not so terrible as the stillness of the anger in which he had come to them.