The Idyll of the Star-Flower: an allegory of life

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THE IDYLL OF THE STAR-FLOWER THE IDYLL OF THE STAR-FLOWER : AN ALLEGORY OF LIFE : BY THE HON. CORALIE GLYN " My Knight, my love, my Knight of Heaven Go forth, for thou shalt see ivhat I have seen And break through allt till One ivill crovjn thee King, Far in the Spiritual City ! " The Holy Grail PUBLISHED BY DAVID NUTT IN THE STRAND : MDCCCXCV To MADAME VON ANDRE THIS WORK IS DEDICATED IN REMEMBRANCE OF LONG FRIENDSHIP CONTENTS

Chapter I The White Star-flower

' I 'HERE lies a wondrous country far away -*■ towards the glittering ice-plains of the Arctic Seas — a land of mighty glaciers and cloud-reaching mountains — a land within whose purple forests long ago, so Sagas say, the Erl- King had his dwelling, and the rock-elves danced their mystic dances above the shining lustre of a sea of phosphorescent fire ! A more prosaic age has now uncrowned the Erl-King, and has silenced the reed-flutes of his fairy minstrels. Yet in this far-off Northland, where the fierce storm-waves thunder along the shore, and the huge pines stand like giant senti nels against the blood-red brilliance of the northern skies — here, in a long dead day, there dwelt a mighty mountain chieftain. Vast was his power, resistless his dominion. And all around him rose the dwellings of his people, stretching far away o'er hill and valley, through the shadowy dim pine-forests, and right unto the frozen borders of the mighty Arctic Sea.

And this chieftain was beloved of all his people, for he ruled the land in peace and equity. And men said that since the deathless days of Frithiof Lion-heart there had reigned no nobler king within the whole realm of the Northland. And well to his people's liking he had wooed and wedded one Swanhild, surnamed the White, the sole daughter of a mighty bordering chieftain, Asolf of the Isles. Her birthplace had been amidst those foam and sea-washed headlands from whose sandhills came the red swans, swiftly floating, swiftly flying, over fjord and over forest, sailing inland with the springtide to their homesteads in the fen-lands and their nests amidst the rushes. And like the sweet songed, rare-plumed birds, Swanhild's own life seemed set to music, so gracious was it, so serene. And the people loved her.

And whene'er she passed amidst them, all the warriors ceased their war-jousts. All the children weaved her gar lands. All the vengeance feuds were pardoned ; and full many frail souls rushing, hapless, heed less to destruction, were withheld by her pure wisdom, and with riper years grown nobler, cleaved love-loyal to all honour. And so the sunlit years sped on. And with each new-born spring, soon as the winter's snows had melted, inland came the beauteous red swans, swiftly floating, swiftly flying over fjord and over forest. And their flight was un molested ; and not one drew bow against them, for 'twas narrated midst the tribesmen that whene'er the red swans gained the green and sunlit pinewood wherein Swanhild loved to wander, they — these wondrous untamed crea tures — would sink softly down beside her, singing songs unknown to mortals, trilling echoes of a world whose loveliness no poet dreamed of !

And thus through many a golden springtide came the red swans earthwards, hovering, linger ing still to render homage to the white and isle. THE IDYLL OF born Swanhild ; yet one year they passed and paused not, but, with songs unsung and droop ing head-crests, flew most slowly, sadly onwards towards their homesteads in the fen-lands and their nests within the rushes ! And, with bent head uncovered, the brave Northern chieftain stood and watched their mournful passage. And to him likewise the little green and sunlit pinewood seemed most sombre and deserted. The golden sunlight might still slant and ripple over the purple pine-stems, yet it held no lustre in his sight. For he knew that love and death had met and mingled their caresses, and that on the grave of Swanhild the flowers of the spring now bloomed !

Yet in past days unto the lovely Swanhild had been born three sons, on whom, as they matured to manhood, the tribesmen, after the ancient custom of the Northland, had bestowed such names as seemed to best befit them. Thus the elder, whose birth-name was Thorwald, had they further named Iron-hand, by reason of his prowess in a great battle with the North land's hereditary foes, the hated Southern tribesmen ; and likewise because upon one memorable day, when one of these same South ern warriors had sent him a challenge to personal combat, he had merely vouchsafed a mute disdainful answer by wrenching a sturdy elm-sapling from its roots lightly as a child may tear a reed, and hurling it far o'er the shining blue fjord waters. Rodmar, the second born, bore little likeness to Thorwald, for albeit trained full hardily, even as all the sons of Norse-born chieftain, he cared nought for deeds of valour or sea-venture, but passed a strange and solitary youth in poring and pondering over such wisdom of the ancients as could best reveal where lurked the hiding-places of the rare earth metals.

The tribesmen, however, being for the most part huntsmen or ocean warriors, and caring more for a bold sea-venture or a full antlered deer than for all the gold that the red dwarfs were ever rumoured to have buried in the earth's depths, prized the knowledge of Rodmar but lightly, and in some derision had named him Rodmar Dream gold. The old chieftain's golden-curled youngest THE IDYLL OF born, however, found more favour in their sight. Like Thorwald, he had borne himself full valiantly in the great battle with the Southern tribesmen, and was also famed for many a hard fought chase victory by flood and field ; more over, he was of mood more sunny and of fairer hue than his brethren, and for this reason he had been surnamed Eric Sunlocks. And the great chief his sire cleaved unto him more closely than the rest, in that within his golden locks and his azure eyes seemed to linger some what of the pure and spiritual fairness of his mother, Swanhild the White.

Now one day, when each of his sons had grown to man's estate, the old chief called them to him and spake to them in this wise : " My sons," he said, " at the far boundary of our territory, there, where the frozen snows lie league on league, arise the sharp spurs of a mighty mountain. Its pathways may perchance be un familiar to you, since its barren clefts offer but scanty payment for the huntsman's toil. Yet nigh to its summit lies a cavern, unriven and unwrought by man, but vast, and sheltered from the storm winds. Within this lonely mountain sanctuary doth dwell a hermit, old and wise. Long years of patient diligence have won him a skill in herbal lore unsurpassed by any in these lands. And without stint or payment he doth grant his aid to all who seek him, and full many times hath wrenched the tribesmen and their kinsfolk from the grip of deadliest plagues and most fell marsh-fevers.

Yet not alone in bodily ills hath he great wisdom, for tidings are brought me that he doth unfold most wondrous wise sayings unto youth. And therefore, my sons, now that ye stand by the but newly un closed portals of life, fain would I have ye seek somewhat of his wisdom. And to this end have I prepared rare gifts and offerings. For although I know that for himself the good man sets light store by such things, yet there be full many needy folk who seek him, and to whom no doubt he oft would fain give alms. With the morrow's dawn would I have ye journey forth. But ere ye go, is there aught further ye desire to know ? " " Yea," answered Thorwald, " I would hear if this same hermit be a Norse-born tribesman and thy liegeman." "Nay," answered the old chief, "he comes from over seas, and is no vassal of mine.' " Then," questioned Rodmar eagerly, " since this hermit be not thy liegeman, assuredly he doth pay some tithe to thee, some tribute to thy coffers ?

" His sire glanced at him with some dis pleasure. "O Rodmar," quoth he, "well art thou named Dream-gold ! Have I not told thee that the good man doth pour forth all his service and aid wholly unrecompensed, and that in midst of pestilence, as well as direst pangs of birth-hour, or of death-hour, he doth tend even the lowliest without stint ? And when a needy hermit can give so royally and well, deem ye that it befits a Norse-born chieftain in requital to seek to wring from him a niggard tithe ? Shame on thee, Rodmar, that such base thoughts lurk within thee." Rodmar, somewhat rebuked, stood mute. And none broke the silence till the chieftain once more spoke. " My sons," he said, " when ye come to the hermit's dwelling, give him my greeting, and bear ye yourselves with reverence in the hermit's sight, so that his blessing may rest on your lives, like the sweet sunlight on the fresh young corn."

Then each of the young chiefs pledged him self to do even as his father bid. And with the morrow's dawn they all three started forth upon their way. Now the road which led to the White Moun tain was full long, but little recked they of its length. For the vigour of youth was fresh in all their limbs. And as they went, each one beguiled the way in his own fashion. Thor wald, the elder, gazing eagerly upon each side of him, sought to mark out the footprints of the wild rock elks, or the light trail of the red forest-deer ; whilst Rodmar, the wary, the second born, searched with no less keen eyes amidst the lichens and the mosses of the way, lest beneath their surface there mayhap should lie a vein of one of those strange, rare earth metals whose glittering trophies made at once his pleasure and his pride ; and Eric, the younger, moved along lightly at his brethren's side, his gold locks gleaming in the northern sun.

And so they passed on through the deep heart of the northern forests ; through the sombre, stately pine-aisles ; past the tranquil, azure hill-lakes ; over moun tains, mute, majestic ; and through fragrant, flower-filled valleys. And as he passed through all the summer fair ness of this forest-world, with its maze of leaf and blossom — its song of birds and rippling waters — it seemed to Eric even as though the myths and legends of the ancient folk-lore Sagas yet again took shape ! Once more Baldur the Beautiful, the Sun-god, seemed to stoop from his golden chariot to woo the white Snow-maiden from the chill silence of her virginal dreams, and to crown her pale pure brows with the crimson love-lilies of the brief bright summertide. From the clear waters of the rippling fjords the soulless Undines still seemed to chant their swan-songs for a life immortal ; whilst all the silvery aspen branches yet seemed to quiver with the glorious melodies of Brage's wind harps.

He was young. The world was young. And did not Nature and youth seem to throb around him and within him as with one gladsome pulse ? Swiftly the day wore on. And when the first red shadows of the evening sky began to flush the feathery summits of the dark-hued pines, the three brethren stood side by side before the hermit's cave. And Thorwald, the eldest born, passed first into the cave of the White Mountain. And silently his brethren waited him upon the threshold. And after a while he came out unto them again, and within his hand he held the petal of a blood-red flower, and his proud, pas sionate eyes gleamed with a mighty triumph. And he cried aloud, saying : " Behold, O Rodmar, and thou too, Eric ! See ye this scarlet petal ? Gaze well upon it, for by the hammer of Great Thor 'tis a brave symbol of my life to be !

Hark ye ! When I offered our father's gifts unto the hermit he, slowly answering, said : " ' Methinks, O youth, that I should render thee somewhat in return.' And speaking thus, he bid me follow him into a shadowy shrine, where upon a rock-hewn tablet lay a mighty heap of petals — the petals, as it seemed, of every flower that blows in the wide world ! And standing there amidst these myriad blooms he bade me choose the one that seemed fairest. Then, as I looked, it seemed to me that of them all this ruddy-hued petal gleamed goodliest and best. And so my choice fell upon it. Then, when he marked my choice, the hermit spoke and said : " ' Thou, O my son, hast chosen the petal of the imperial blood-red Lily.' Then I asked him, saying, 'Where, O father, must I go to seek this wondrous flower ? ' " And he answered : ' Where the dead and dying are.

Where the blood eagles and war vultures gather — there, 'neath thy foeman's breast-plates, shalt thou find this blood-red bloom. And holding it for a brief space thine haughty spirit shall rejoice in victory.' " Then, when Thorwald had ended these words, Rodmar, he the wary and the wise, passed musingly into the hermit's cave. And after a while he likewise returned. And a look of triumph was in his eyes, a look more thoughtful than flashed from the eyes of Thorwald, yet the look of one who likewise has gained his heart's desire. And in his hand he bore a spray of marsh born Iris. " Happy am I ! " he said. " For lo ! from out of all the rest I chose this rare and golden Iris-bloom. And the wise old hermit spoke to me and said : " ' Behold, my son, thy choice hath fallen upon that marsh-born, world-sought flower, whose gilded leaves are bright even as the streams of gold for which men sell their bodies and destroy their souls !

And great earth wisdom shall be thine. Thou shalt hold the skill to wrest the gleaming trophies from the feebler hands of all about thee, and shalt walk over their prostrate bodies ; and thus for a long span of years thy path shall be desired of many, and shall seem smooth and easy ! ' ' Then, when Rodmar had ceased to speak, Eric, the younger, passed into the hermit's cave. And as his glance fell on the fair-haired youth, for the first time upon the stern face of the old hermit came a smile. Yet he said nought, but simply guided him towards the rock-hewn tablet where all the flower petals lay. For a moment Eric gazed thoughtfully upon the rainbow-tinted flowers, then from out the brilliant clusters of glowing crimson, regal purple, roseate pink and palest azure, he slowly drew one tiny petal, frailer than the rest, but pure white, like a new-fallen flake of snow, and moulded into the perfect semblance of a cross !

Musingly the hermit's gaze rested upon him. " Dost thou read the symbol of thy choice, O Eric ? " he said. " The petal which thou holdest in thine hand is born of the White Star-flower, the flower of the highest Ideal, whose blossoms may be found on earth, and are for the healing of the nations, but whose first fruits ripen only in the lands beyond the stars !" Yet Eric gazed with a changeless desire upon the snow-white leaf. " Methinks," he cried, "my steps would gladly range unto the limits of the universe only to look upon the Star-flower — once ! " Again the hermit smiled on him — the sad yet tender smile of one who deeply feels for human woe, yet, sorrowing, doubts for human strength. " Think well of what thou askest, O Eric ! " he replied. " This flower, as I have told thee, bears its first-fruits only in the lands beyond the stars !

And though its blossoms are for the healing of the nations, yet to seek them is a long search and a weary, since they may alone be reached through much faith, much suffering, and much pain." " Oh ! show me but the road," Eric said, " and I will follow it where'er it lead ! " " They who would truly seek the White Star flower — the flower of the highest Ideal," the hermit slowly made answer, " must deny them selves all baser things, all loves and frailties of the flesh ; forego all human ties which bind them earthwards. And must seek it patiently, ofttimes in bitterest pain and anguished weari ness. Hast thou strength enough for this ? Behold around thee bloom many fair and fra grant flowers. Amidst them is there not the brilliant marsh-flower, such as thy brother Rodmar chose ? And is there not likewise the blood-red imperial war-blossom, which Thorwald deemed fairest of them all ?

" " Think not that I would seem to slight my brethren's choice," Eric rejoined. " Yet in my sight the war-bloom gleams less goodly than B the star-bloom, whilst the glittering marsh bloom brings back to my mind the memory of a strange Skaldannal, which doth tell of one — methinks a mighty chieftain — for whose nup tials the world-mocking forge-man, Ilmarinnen, fashioned a bride of silver and of gold. At first the hero was well pleased to gain so rare a spouse. Yet, as the days wore on, his heart grew heavy, for, despite her gold and silver fairness, her touch froze all his blood to ice ! " Then the hermit answered : " Yet all these flowers of crimson and of gold are easy to thine hand, whilst the Star-flower is far to seek, and, it may be, attained alone through infinite pain and in heart-weariness.

Say, dost thou still desire it ? " And Eric answered steadfastly : " Yea, I do desire it.' "It alone?" " It alone ! " " I sought to prove thee, gentle youth," the ancient hermit said. " And well and wisely hast thou chosen. Take then the petal of the white Star-flower. It is the leaf of Faith — all the rest thou must seek for thyself. It may be thou mayest find it, and it may be thou mayest not ! For unto me, mortal like to thyself, it is not given to read the mysteries of the lands beyond the stars, or to know if, when tried within the fire, thine heart shall prove of purest gold or of some baser metal ! Thou wilt have, methinks, to journey far, and to endure much bitter pain before thou find it. And doubtless on thy road thine eyes shall be beguiled by all those fair-seeming blossoms which bear the Star flower a most strange resemblance.

Yet by this shalt thou tell the true from the false. It shall be, that when thou shalt lay this petal beside that of any other flower than that which bore it, that flower, however white or fair it may have seemed, shall at its touch begin to darken or decay. This same shall be thy token. And now fare thee well ! " Then holding his Star-flower petal reverently within his hand, Eric passed from out the cave of the White Mountain. And as they journeyed homewards through the mighty aisles of the pine-forests, his brethren asked him what had been the gift which he had chosen from the hermit's shrine. Then he showed them the petal of the white Star-flower, but they both looked upon it with disdain. " It has no ruddy brilliance like my flower of war ! " quoth Thorwald the proud. " Nor any sweet aroma like my flower of gold !

" murmured the subtler Rodmar. " And whither dost thou think to seek this blossom, O Eric ? " they both mockingly asked. "And what if thou shouldest ne'er find it ? " "At least I shall have striven ! " " Yet, perchance, thou mayest perish in thy search ? " " That is as may be," Eric replied. " It is madness ! " his brethren cried out with one voice. " It is duty," he answered. " Duty to die thus — for a dream, a shadow, a vision ? " " Duty to seek the Highest, and let the rest go by ! " Then when they saw that he would not heed them, the hearts of his brethren grew bitter against him ; for although they mocked him with their lips, yet within their souls there lurked some dim, half knowledge that his choice had been a nobler one than theirs. Then in unbroken silence, and each one deep lost in his own dreams, the three young chief tains traversed the silent, sleeping woodlands, and guided by the white radiance of the Arctic stars, they passed slowly homewards, each one to his own place.

Chapter II The Passing Of Eric

Farewell, ye mountains, Te tablet fountains, Ye lakes and highlands I know so well, Ye rocks and islands, Farewell I Farewell! A ND as soon as the red light of the growing **■ dawn had streaked the pallor from the morning skies, Thorwald and Rodmar came with swift steps and stood before their sire, and loudly appraised the beauty of their flowers, and spoke of the great wonders they should do. And the old chief heard them in silence to the end, for he was a man of few words. Only, when they had passed from out his presence, he desired that Eric should come to him. So Eric came and stood before his chief and sire. And his heart was heavy within him, for he knew how the love of the brave old man was centred upon him, and how hardly the tidings of this parting must fall upon him. Silently the old chief listened to his son's tale of the hermit's greeting, and of his own choice of the White Star-flower.

Only once he in terrupted his words. It was when Eric spoke gently of the journey he must make ! Then the shadow of a great pain, of an in tense emotion, darkened the old chief's eyes, still proud and lustrous though the snow of four score years had silvered his head. He lifted his glance — that glance which ne'er had quailed nor shrunk from death or danger — full upon the fair frank face of him he loved so well, and as he looked the wistful pathos of a mighty yearning shone within his eyes. " Thou," he said simply, " thou, my son — wilt leave me ? " The words were brief, but within them lay the eloquence of a deep yet unspoken sadness. Eric moved nearer his father's side, and laid his hand tenderly upon that of the old man. " My father," he said gently, though a certain tremor shook his tones," my father, if I go to seek the Highest— thou wouldst not withhold me ?

" For a brief space a silence fell between them. Outside the chamber-casement all the summer's day went bravely on its course. Athwart the purple shadows of the pines swept the great herds of red roe-deer. From the blue distance of the ice-lakes, and the white peaks of the snow-mountains, wheeled the wild kestrels and the huge rock-eagles. The air was sweet with the crisp fragrance of the golden gorses and with the cool freshness of the strong sea breezes. And within the full glow of the morning sun light Eric stood, slender yet stalwart as some goodly young sea-pine ; with the northern breezes ruffling his golden locks, and with the northern sunlight shining into his fearless, steel blue eyes — those eyes which looked the whole wide world so straightly in the face ! And as he gazed upon his son, a father's pride stirred in the old man's heart.

And it seemed hard, yea, hard as death, to let him go. Yet, if he went to seek the Highest, was it he, who loved him best on earth, who should seek to stay his footsteps ? The old chiefs instinctive loftiness of nature made him venerate the choice his son had made. That Eric, who might have chosen wealth and honours, who might have dwelt as a chieftain in the land all his life's days — that such an one, in the first glow of his dawning manhood, should be ready to forego all else for the sake of his Ideal, this thought stirred all the heroism within the old warrior's soul. He stretched his hand out to his son, and though a sharp sword seemed to pierce his heart, yet the words fell all unfaltering from his lips. " My son," he said, " my years have been more spent in war than holiness, yet I believe thou hast well chosen.

Fain would I have held thee at my side, since thou hast ever been even as the light of my eyes. But so it must not be, since the hermit, wisest among men, hath spoken, saying that the steep and far-off path of pain leads the more surely to a noble goal. Farewell, O Eric ! my blessing follow thee through life ! And may thou find that bloom which is for the healing of the nations ! " With a tender reverence Eric stooped down until his lips touched the old chieftain's hand, then with sad steps he moved from out his presence. And the old man did not follow him. For his heart was heavy with pain, and he feared lest, when he beheld his son's bark on the shore, his grief should utterly prevail. Then Eric, when he had quitted his sire, passed slowly through the mighty banqueting hall, wherein the warriors and chief jarls were wont to feast.

And as he went, his glance rested, as though in farewell, on all the familiar surroundings — upon the lofty walls, pine-hewn, blazoned with stately war-crests and decked with noble, high-branched antlers, the trophies of full many a hard day's chase through field and forest; upon the floor, which was strewn with the snowy hides of bears and with the silvery furs of foxes, slain on wild Arctic snow-plains ; and the door way, over whose portals a pair of huge crossed spears, of southern mould, bore deathless record of that fierce encounter with the invading chieftains, in the which both he and Thorwald had each one received his baptism of blood. Passing beneath the gleaming crossed spears, he paused a moment, for nigh to his homestead's threshold were chained a pack of huge, fierce fanged wolf-hounds, whilst at but a slight dis tance from them a blithe pair of bright-haired children chased each other through the feathery clumps of aspen and of alder.

The hounds, as soon as they perceived him, lifted their heads with a mighty bay of welcome, deeming that he had come to loose them for the chase. But Eric, although he stooped down and caressed them, yet, contrary to his wont, left them unloosed. At this moment the two children ran towards him — the slender-limbed maiden shrinking a little from the leaping fierce fanged hounds ; the boy, more fearless, passing undaunted through their midst. They were the twin children of one of the bravest warriors and most trusty jarls of the old chieftain's realm. And Eric had known them both from their birth-hour. With ringing, gleeful welcome cries they now came towards him. " All through this noontide we have sought thee, O Jarl Eric," they cried. " For lo ! we have such wondrous tidings. Yester eve, as we were wending homewards by the rocky sea shore, we came on a wounded eaglet lying on the sands.

It had fallen — of this we made no doubt — from some lofty cliff-eyrie far above, and one of its pinions was sore crushed. But when we saw that it still lived, we bore it homewards. 'Tis a noble bird, golden-crested and beauteous, though wounded, and we would that thou shouldst come and look upon it and tell us how we should deal with it." " Since this wounded eaglet is your captive, my children," answered Eric gently, " ye should deal nobly with it, as befits all true-born Norse men. Tend it ; and if, when healed, it should strive again to fly, deny it not. For fettered eagles, if they may not break their bonds, may yet still break their hearts." " And wilt thou not come and behold it, O Jarl Eric ? " the children implored. " Alas," Eric replied, " I have no space to pause, even to pleasure you, my fair children.

For I go upon a Quest, and already my bark awaits me on the shore." The two children, deeply sorrowing at these tidings, plied him with questions, till, choosing simple phrases such as might least perplex their twelve-year-old wisdom, Eric told them some what of his Star-flower and of how he went to seek it. When he had ended, the little blithesome Huldra, gazing at him with blue, beseeching eyes, spoke after this wise : "Thrice happy Jarl ! Thou goest on this Quest ; and it may be that on thy wanderings thou shalt pass the fairy mounds and see the wood-elves' dwellings whereof I so oft have dreamed. Say, noble chieftain, may I not go with thee ? It might be that then at last I should see, and speak face to face with, the elf children." Eric smiled. " I am," he answered, " little versed in fairy or elf lore.