At last he could bear the suspense no longer, and saddling his horse he
rode sadly out of Asgard to Niflheim, the home of Hel, whose face was as
the face of death itself. As he drew near the gates, a monstrous dog
came out and barked furiously, but Odin rode a little eastward of the
shadowy gates to the grave of a wonderful prophetess. It was a cold,
gloomy place, and the soul of the great god was pierced with a feeling
of hopeless sorrow as he dismounted from Sleipner, and bending over the
grave began to chant weird songs, and weave magical charms over it. When
he had spoken those wonderful words which could waken the dead from
their sleep, there was an awful silence for a moment, and then a faint
ghost-like voice came from the grave.
"Who art thou?" it said. "Who breaketh the silence of death, and calleth
the sleeper out of her long slumbers? Ages ago I was laid at rest here,
snow and rain have fallen upon me through myriad years; why dost thou
disturb me?"
"I am Vegtam," answered Odin, "and I come to ask why the couches of Hel
are hung with gold and the benches strewn with shining rings?"
"It is done for Balder," answered the awful voice; "ask me no more."
Odin's heart sank when he heard these words; but he was determined to
know the worst.
"I will ask thee until I know all. Who shall strike the fatal blow?"
"If I must, I must," moaned the prophetess.
Pages:
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402