Tales From Cornwall: A History Of The Hubelaires

1. The Oak Tree

Balder, Lord of the Wolves, sat before his house in a massive chair, cunningly carved from the solid bole of a birch tree. Every day, except when winter hurled snow over the town and ice-locked the little harbor, he sat in this chair, sleeping at times and occasionally talking to his sons and the little children. His old face was lined with the passing of many years. His hair, once yellow, was now snow white. His family were proud of that hair, and his great-granddaughters quarreled over the right to comb and brush it.

At night he slept peacefully in a large bed, the posts of which were carved with wolf heads. He rested on and was covered with woolens filled with goose down. For many years he had slept alone, ever since his lovely lady, Thyra, daughter of Folkes-King Eric of Westfold, had left him after love-nesting in that bed till she had given him seven sons and three daughters.

The family lived in a cluster of stone houses. For many years they had been isolated from the world, self-sufficient and well satisfied with life. The sea furnished them food, the forests meat and wood, the pastures grass for their cattle and grain for their geese. Though they had no near neighbors and none had been in battle since Lord Balder was a young man, they spent part of every day playing at war, perfecting themselves in sword fighting, throwing the spear at a target and hurling the hammer.

Six dragon ships floated in the land-locked harbor. When their Lord or one of his sons died they placed him on a ship with all his war gear and his favorite horse and, setting fire to the ship, watched it sail toward the setting sun and Valhalla. Then they built another ship.

Year after year Balder sat in his great chair, saying less and dreaming more. At times he talked of the past glory of the Wolves. He told of their ancestor Scyld, who had come from the faraway land in the West. He had been only a boy when he sailed to Jutland in a rudderless boat, magically steered by the goddess Gefjon, who later married him. From that time the family had been befriended by the gods. Thor had taught them the use of the hammer in battle. When the Wolves were very young he had sent a falling star into the center of the town. It was flat on one side, sharp-pointed on the other and very heavy. A clever smith had attached a handle of hickory wood to this star, fastening it securely, and bound the wood with bands of copper. Around the handle he had woven strips of bulls hide so it could not slip out of the hand. Balder's father and grandsire before him had used this hammer in battle and it had never failed. None had used it since Balder had last killed with it, for it was so heavy that his sons could do no more than lift it from the ground. Balder kept the hammer clean and polished and it was always near him by the chair during the daytime and on his bed at night, for he thought the time might come when he would need it; but, as the years passed, his strength failed and finally he could only raise it from the ground and hold it proudly on his broad thighs. While he would not admit it, all the family knew that he would nevermore throw it in battle.

One pleasant day in early spring all the Wolves were merry. The young men and girls gathered wood of nine different kinds and placed it on a nearby mountain top to be burned at night as Balder's Balar. A pile of toadstools, called Baran, was placed nearby so they could be thrown into the fire to frighten the trolls who roamed the mountains, awaiting a chance to harm the family. The older men went into the forest on a very special mission, while the women were busy preparing food for the feasting. Only the little children had nothing to do, and so they gathered around Lord Balder and listened as he told of the hammer and how he had fought with it in his youth. He often talked thus, but, as he grew older, fact blended with fancy till even he was not certain how many of the enemy he had actually killed. Nevertheless it was all very wonderful to the little ones, and even the adults paused to listen, for they were proud that such a mighty warrior was their Lord.

"Tell us of Balder, the Beautiful, the god you were named after", demanded a flaxen-haired, blue-eyed girl as she climbed up on the old man’s knee. The other children shouted, "Tell us the story! Tell us the story!" and then were silent as the old man started to tell the tale, which was his habit each year on the day the Wolves celebrated the return of their favorite god from Valhalla.

"Balder, son of Odin, was, of all the gods, the wisest and most beautiful. One night he had a dream in which he fancied he was dead. He told this dream to the other gods and they determined to safeguard him from every danger. The goddess Frigg, acting for them, made fire and water, iron and all metals, poisons, sickness and all living plants and animals take an oath that they would never harm Balder."

"Did they keep that oath?" asked a boy.

"They did. The gods tested them. They threw stones at Balder, shot arrows at him, hacked him with swords and even built a fire under him, but nothing they did hurt him in any way. However, Loki, the Evil One, was not pleased and asked Frigg, ’Did you give an oath to everything?' and Frigg replied, 'To all except a little plant called the mistletoe, which grows east of Valhalla. It seemed too little to bother with. Then Loki went to Valhalla and found this plant and returned to the place where the gods were amusing themselves shooting arrows at Balder. Only blind Hother did not shoot. Loki asked him why he also did not shoot and he replied that he could not see. Then Loki placed a bow and arrow in Hother's hands and told him to shoot. Hother shot the arrow tipped with mistletoe and it passed through Balder and he died."

"What happened then?" asked one of the girls.

"All the gods wept. The women wailed and tore their hair and cried, ’Weep for Balder the Beautiful, for he is dead.’ They carried him down to his dragon ship, the Ringhorn, which was beached on the shore, but they could not launch it. Then a giantess named Hyrrockin came riding a wolf and she pushed the ship so hard that, as it slid into the sea, tire flashed from the rollers and all the earth shook. They built a funeral pyre on the ship, and on it they placed Balder and his wife Nanna, who had died of grief. They killed Balder's horse and placed him near the dead god, after that they set fire to the ship and started it on the voyage to Valhalla."

"But he came back! He came back!" shouted the children.

"Yes, every spring he comes back to bless the crops and bring warmth, peace and happiness to all his people. That is why we burn the Balar and make merry, for he has come back and will be with us until the snow lies heavy on the earth. Then he will return to Valhalla. He is a great god, and I am fortunate to be so named as he."

Then Holga, the oldest son, returned with the other men from the dark forest, carrying bunches of mistletoe.

"Did you have success?" asked Balder.

"Yes, Olaf cut the mistletoe off the sacred oak tree with his arrows. As the branches fell we caught them so they would not touch the ground."

"Good!" exclaimed the old man. "Now divide it with the gold knife. Place branches in every house, and the women shall eat the seeds so that there will be babies next year. Now send me the blind harper."

The harper, led by his pupil, came and sat on a pillow at Lord Balder's feet. He was almost as old as the ruler of the Wolves. For many years he had played on the gold harp with three brass strings and sung songs he had learned from his teacher, who, in turn, had been taught them by an older singer of songs. His pupil sat near him, but his harp was of wood, with strings of braided horsehair. On this he accompanied the blind harper, repeating the words of the song in a soft whisper so that, when the time came, he would become the harper of the family and play on the golden harp.

The blind harper asked Lord Balder, "Is there a special song you would have me sing?"

"Yes," Balder replied. "Sing of the very old days when we ruled in the islands beyond the setting sun, and how, when that land sank beneath the angry sea the boy Scyld, son of Othin, sailed to Zealand, married the goddess Gefjon and founded our family. This is the song that always should be sung on this day."

The harper sang that song, which he had learned from his master, who, in turn, had learned it from his. For many generations that song had been sung, each harper adding new and fantastic touches so that the facts were buried under a mound of fancy; but it was a brave song and resounded with the past glory of the Wolves. While he sang Balder went to sleep.

Holga's oldest daughter turned to her father. "Tell us how your father won his beautiful bride. Grandfather Balder should tell the tale but now he is asleep and you must tell it for him. Many of us know it, almost word for word, but some of the little ones should hear it again, for no feast of Balder the Beautiful is complete without the telling of the tale."

”I will tell it," her father replied, ”though it will come second hand and it would have been better had my father stayed awake to tell it; but he is growing old, and more and more he sleeps in his chair with the Thor hammer on his thighs. Now you children cease from your playing and gather around me. Perhaps the older Wolves will forget, for a little while, their age and pretend they are children listening for the first time to a story of our Lord Balder and how he won his bride, the beautiful Thyra, daughter of Folkes-King Eric of Wearfold, who ruled in the land where the nights are half a year long.

"Balder, son of Olaf, Lord of the Wolves, though only twenty years of age, had voyaged to the southlands seeking treasure from the weaklings of faraway kingdoms. He was a man above the common man, born to command and be obeyed. His father knew full well that some day he would go in a burning ship to Valhalla and longed for his son to sail into the northlands, find and marry a princess, fair-haired and blue-eyed, so the House of Wolves would grow and prosper.

"Balder, wishing to please his father, sailed in his dragon ship with twenty of his best warriors. Driven by wind, the ship sailed north, and wind lacking, the warriors rowed, ten on each side; but ever Balder stood at the helm, steering the ship from pounding surf and treacherous rocks. On and on they sailed until they came to a faraway land, shaken with bitter winds, and there they saw a castle half-buried in the drifted snow.

"Leaving the ship they went to the castle and there gained entrance to the banquet hall, where King Eric sat. High rose the flames in the wide fireplace. All around, the armed warriors sat, while wolfhounds slept contented on the rush-strewn floor. The warriors feasted on seal and bear meat washed down with mead, telling tales of war and love and wild adventures of the past. But King Eric and Prince Balder held quiet converse, asking and answering many questions. Then the King sent an old woman to his daughter, requesting her presence that she might help entertain the Prince.

"She was a woman fair, broad at the shoulders, with deep blue eyes and Saxon hair, the braid of which, when she walked, swept the floor. One look at her and Balder knew that she would make a loving bride, and fast his heart beat as he felt the wonderment of love.

"Then the King told of a giant, a spear's length and more, who ruled the touching lands. He had few warriors and needed none, for all he leapt against he crushed and with the killings added to his riches. He was a mighty priest, favored by the gods, and none could stand against him.

"This cruel giant had sent messengers demanding that the King should send his daughter with a dower of jewels and much gold, and claiming that the gods had willed that they should wed.

"Balder cried in answer, 'This must never be. I and my twenty Wolves will fight this craven giant and thus make safe your kingdom and protect the maid. The gracious Princess answered for her father. 'Oh, Prince, you seem a good and kindly man. I grieve to have you die. Yet go you must, you and your great-limbed warriors. Here is my token. Wear it on your helm; it may protect you in the coming battle.

"He took her token, wound the golden chain around his helm and told her that he would soon return victorious. The next day and the next Balder and all his men toiled through the drifted snow, and at long last they came to the giant's castle near a lake of crystal ice, windswept of snow. Here they put on skates of reindeer bone and skimming over the ice came to the castle door, where stood the giant awaiting them. Balder cried, 'Thou cur, who cannot kill the prey yourself but eat the carrion nobler bears do leave! The time has come when you shall perish. I and twenty of my warriors have come to speed you on your way and thus rid the land of such a noisome pest.'

"The giant skated to them, glorying in his strength and sure of victory. Though oft wounded, he killed seven Wolves. Then Balder, grief-stricken to see his comrades die, went berserk and threw his hammer at the giant. So great the throw, so sure the aim, the hammer broke through breastplate, shattered ribs and tore the giant's back in two.

"They stripped him of his armor, took his weapons and left his broken body on the ice, fit food for the great meat-eating white owls to feed on. Then, carrying their seven dead, they slowly returned to the castle of King Eric; but before they ate they placed their dead on a dragon ship and sent it burning through the floating ice to Valhalla.

"And after this Balder told them of the battle on the frozen lake and all the banquet hall rang with shouts of praise. That winter Balder and his Wolves guested in the castle, but when summer came again and all the land was green with grass and flowers he sailed southward taking with him his bride, the lovely Thyra. Olaf rejoiced to see his son again and swore that he had seldom seen a lovelier woman. He bought his dead wife's jewels and her crown and gave them to the proud and happy bride.

"When Olaf died Lord Balder ruled, and wrong and crime were banished from this happy land as mist is scattered by the summer sun. And so the House of Wolves lives on and always will, for nothing can destroy our race as long as we hold fast to courage, pride and faith.

"Now that is the tale so often told by my father. I first heard it when I was but a lad. When he told it on the feast day of Balder the Beautiful he always ended thus: Perhaps some of you children may not think the giant was as large as I said, but he was taller than his spear, which now stands in the corner of my house. None of the Wolves, with hand held high, could touch the point. Yet, after he died, we laid that spear beside his body and the point came only to his shoulder. So you may see for yourself that he was a mighty man. Yet, with one blow of the Thor hammer, I broke his back in two. Thus our Lord Balder ended his story and, now as he is asleep, you may go into his house and see the spear. He always keeps the hammer with him and even now it rests upon his thighs, but it has been many years since he had thrown it at a mark and none of his sons can do much more than raise it from the ground."

Then the older children ran off to play, while the little ones went to see the spear. The men began war games with swords and hammers and the women resumed the preparing of the feast.

Balder, rousing from his sleep, found himself alone. Then a little man, dressed in black velvet, came out of the dark forest and sat at the feet of Balder.

"Welcome, stranger," the Lord said. "I judge you have come in peace, for you have neither sword nor armor."

The little man laughed. "I do not need them. It seemed proper that I visit you and share your pleasure in the greatness of your family.”

"Yes. Great indeed. My wife bore me seven sons and three daughters and now I have many grandchildren and great-grandchildren. All worthy members of the House of the Wolves."

"You have every right to be proud of them; and so have I, since I was the father of your beloved wife.".

"How can that be?" asked the puzzled Balder. "I thought her the daughter of King Eric; at least he told me so."

"You had a right to believe him. I go by many names but in the southlands where the sun is warm and the grapes hang heavy on the vines I am called Pan. I often play the pipe, and when I do, all the folk, animals and birds make merry. I have that pipe with me, a simple reed one with but eight notes, yet the music is most pleasant. Let me play for you.”,

As he played on his pipe the little children gathered around him while the goats ran from the forest and the geese, wings flapping, came from the meadow. They all formed a large circle about him, and round and round they ran, laughing and bleating and honking while the little man played. The young women joined hands with their husbands and danced merrily. Finally the stranger stopped playing and the children returned to their games while the goats went back to the forest and the geese to the meadow.

"I was in the northlands years ago," the stranger said, "and there I met a lovely maid tending a flock of geese. For three days I stayed with her, playing for her pleasure, and then I wandered on. I heard that soon after that she married a great king and bore him a daughter who was called Thyra. Naturally the king thought the little one was his, and he had every right to think so, but his wife knew I was the man who had given her the child. This has often happened when I play the pipe for the pleasure of a maid. So all of the family of Wolves are mine as well as yours, and I am here to protect you from a danger that might, unless you act wisely, destroy them."

"That is a very strange tale," mused Balder. "Part of it seems improbable but, after seeing the children, goats and geese dance when you played the pipe, I can understand how the music might influence the soul of a maiden. But Thyra was a lovely bride and true wife any man should be proud of. If you had known her, as I knew her, for many years, you would be proud of such a daughter."

As they sat talking a runner came, breathing heavily, and bowing to Lord Balder, told of fifty dragon ships coming down the coast to Jutland, burning the little towns and spilling blood and dealing death to all who stood against them. Within two days more they would come to the land of the Wolves, and in each ship were twenty-one mighty Norsemen. Balder called his seven sons and told them the news brought by the runner.

"We will stay and fight!” cried one of the younger sons. "Why should the Wolves run from their enemies?"

But the little stranger, though silent, sent advice to Lord Balder and he said to his sons, "We could stay and fight but that would most surely be the ending of the Wolves, for we are few and they are many." He gave this command to his oldest son, Holga: "Store water and food on our dragon ships and take all of the family — the men, women and children aboard. On the ships place our best stallion and five fine mares and as many goats and geese as you can find room for. Sail as soon as you can and find a new home in the southlands, where I hope you will live at peace with your neighbors. As for me, I cannot, I will not flee, but will wait here till the spinner comes to the end of my life rope and the cutter cuts the strands. Die I must some day, and soon, and it is better to die fighting than in my bed."

"Tonight you will set fire to Balder's Balar so he will know that we remember and honor him. In return he may help you in your new life, give large crops and more babies so the House of Wolves will ever prosper. Be sure to take the branches of mistletoe with you to hang in your new homes, for perhaps that magic plant does not grow in the southlands to which you are sailing. I will sleep tonight, but all of you must work loading the ships, for there is no time to waste."

Late the next day the Wolves rowed out of the little land-locked harbor in their six large dragon ships. There were not enough men to sit at the one hundred and twenty oars, so all the women sat with them and the children helped as best they could, two to an oar.

Lord Balder sat in his chair before his house. None of his sons were there to listen to his words of wisdom; no harper played for his pleasure and no little children combed and brushed his hair. To him much of the past was forgotten, while the present seemed like a dream and the future was so hid in a mist of uncertainty that it was useless to worry over it.

Then the stranger came and once again sat on the ground at the feet of Lord Balder, and he asked, ”What will you do now?”

"I do not know," Balder replied. "My family are safely sailing to a new home in the southlands. As for me, I am simply waiting to kill and be killed, for I am only one man and cannot prevail against these Norsemen who sail against me in fifty dozen ships. If I were a high rock in the harbor I might wreck the ships flung against me by the waves. If I were a giant oak I could stand in front of my house. The mistletoe would grow on me and the birds would nest in my moss-covered branches. But I am neither a rock nor an oak but only a very old man, so I must die. But when they kill me I will go fighting to Valhalla and, in spite of my age I may be able to take some of these proud Norsemen with me."

"I like the idea of your being a giant oak tree," the little man said softly. "You have sailed the seas but were never really happy unless your feet touched the earth. I think you would enjoy being an oak. Since that is your desire I will arrange the matter in a way that will be very satisfactory to you but somewhat disconcerting to those warriors who are anticipating the pleasure of killing you."

"I do not worry about dying,” answered Balder, "for everyone who lives long enough grows old and finally the old must die like a rotten tree that at last falls to the ground. But I grieve for my Thor hammer. It would be a sorry thing to have it taken by these wild men from the North. For that hammer has been used by the Wolves for many long years. Had I been wise I would have told my oldest son, Holga, to take it with him; but, filled with the pride and foolishness of years, I kept it hoping that I might once again kill with it. I should have known that I have only strength to raise it from the ground and place it upon my thigh.”

"If I do all else I will also care for the hammer," the stranger replied, "for I am as proud of it as you. Perhaps Thor sent it falling from the skies, but I helped the old smith when he fastened it to the handle." Then the man played a very simple melody on his pipe and Balder slept.

The next day the dragon ships rowed into the harbor and were beached on the sand while Lord Thordis and all his men waded ashore.

"Where is the town of the Wolves?" Thordis cried. "Only two nights ago we saw a large Balar burning on the mountains, so the Wolves must have been here then, yet now, in some way, they are gone. I thought we would find riches here, men to kill and women to pleasure in. Is it possible we landed at the wrong harbor?"

"This should be the place,” his son answered, "but there are no houses, no pits of grain, no cattle and no people. Nothing but a barren shore with only one tree, a giant oak, so largest would take long to cut down. But it is a sacred oak and must not be harmed. Somehow the Wolves have escaped us and nothing remains to profit us for the labor of the voyage. We can do nothing but sail on and hope for better fortune in the days to come."

"Now here is a wonderous sight,” exclaimed Lord Thordis. "An my eyes do not deceive me, up in that oak, caught between two branches, is the mighty Thor hammer of the Wolves, used by Lord Balder when he was young. I have heard our singer of songs tell of Balder's killing a giant with it. When we sailed here I wanted that hammer more than riches, for they buy little of lasting worth; more than the slaughter of men, for we can do that any day; more than the capture of women, for one woman is very like all others, and they all age and lose their beauty. So we will cut down the oak and then I will kill with Balder's hammer and, after me, my sons and their sons will kill with it, for Thor sent it from the skies and none can withstand it. That hammer is a weapon like to which there is none other and I must have it.”

“Touch not the oak, Father," pleaded his son, "for it is a sacred tree, favored of the gods, and harming it will bring us much woe and little gain.”

But Lord Thordis paid no heed and, taking his battle axe, strode to the tree and gave it a cut so deep that he could not pull out the axe. A strong wind made all the branches shiver, and Balder's hammer fell through the air and crashed into Lord Thordis's helmet, scattering his brains on the sand. Seeing their Lord die, all the Norsemen stood very still with fear deep in their hearts, for they knew this killing had been sent by the gods.

While they were still wondering, a storm came from the ocean and a high wave dashed the fifty ships far Inland and all the Norsemen were destroyed by the fury of the water. But the giant oak withstood the storm, for its roots were dug deep into the earth and all its branches were sturdy.

Then Pan made a magic so that lightning would never harm the oak nor winter winds tear its branches; and Balder lives on, well content in his new home.