Figures of Earth | Page 9

had reached for his charmed sword
Flamberge, but it was Niafer who spoke.
"No, for before you can destroy me," says Niafer, "I shall have cast this
bridle over your head."
"What sort of bridle is that?" inquired the great snake scornfully.
"And are those goggling flaming eyes not big enough and bright
enough to see that this is the soft bridle called Gleipnir, which is made
of the breath of fish and of the spittle of birds and of the footfall of a
cat?"
"Now, although certainly such a bridle was foretold," the snake
conceded, a little uneasily, "how can I make sure that you speak the
truth when you say this particular bridle is Gleipnir?"
"Why, in this way: I will cast the bridle over your head, and then you
will see for yourself that the old prophecy will be fulfilled, and that all
power and all life will go out of you, and that the Northmen will dream
no more."
"No, do you keep that thing away from me, you little fool! No, no: we
will not test your truthfulness in that way. Instead, do you two continue
your ascent, to a more terrible destruction, and to face barbaric dooms
coming from the West. And do you give me the bridle to demolish in
place of you. And then, if I live forever I shall know that this is indeed
Gleipnir, and that you have spoken the truth."
So Niafer consented to this testing of his veracity, rather than permit
this snake to die, and the foundations of Norroway (in which kingdom,
Niafer confessed, he had an aunt then living) thus to be dissolved by
the loosening of the dying serpent's grip upon Middlegarth. The bridle
was yielded, and Niafer and Manuel went upward.
Manuel asked, "Snip, was that in truth the bridle called Gleipnir?"
"No, Manuel, it is an ordinary bridle. But this Serpent of the North has

no way of discovering this fact except by fitting the bridle over his
head: and this one thing the serpent will never do, because he knows
that then, if my bridle proved to be Gleipnir, all power and all life
would go out of him."
"O subtle, ugly little snip!" says Manuel: and again he patted Niafer on
the shoulder. Then Manuel spoke very highly in praise of cleverness,
and said that, for one, he had never objected to it in its place.
[Illustration]

III
Ascent of Vraidex
Now it was evening, and the two sought shelter in a queer windmill by
the roadside, finding there a small wrinkled old man in a patched coat.
He gave them lodgings for the night, and honest bread and cheese, but
for his own supper he took frogs out of his bosom, and roasted these in
the coals.
Then the two boys sat in the doorway, and watched that night's dreams
going down from Vraidex to their allotted work in the world of
visionary men, to whom these dreams were passing in the form of
incredible white vapors. Sitting thus, the lads fell to talking of this and
the other, and Manuel found that Niafer was a pagan of the old faith:
and this, said Manuel, was an excellent thing.
"For, when we have achieved our adventure," says Manuel, "and must
fight against each other for the Count's daughter, I shall certainly kill
you, dear Niafer. Now if you were a Christian, and died thus unholily
in trying to murder me, you would have to go thereafter to the
unquenchable flames of purgatory or to even hotter flames: but among
the pagans all that die valiantly in battle go straight to the pagan
paradise. Yes, yes, your abominable religion is a great comfort to me."
"It is a comfort to me also, Manuel. But, as a Christian, you ought not

ever to have any kind words for heathenry."
"Ah, but," says Manuel, "while my mother Dorothy of the White Arms
was the most zealous sort of Christian, my father, you must know, was
not a communicant."
"Who was your father, Manuel?"
"No less a person than the Swimmer, Oriander, who is in turn the son
of Mimir."
"Ah, to be sure! and who is Mimir?"
"Well, Niafer, that is a thing not very generally known, but he is famed
for his wise head."
"And, Manuel, who, while we speak of it, is Oriander?"
Said Manuel:
"Oh, out of the void and the darkness that is peopled by Mimir's brood,
from the ultimate silent fastness of the desolate deep-sea gloom, and
the peace of that ageless gloom, blind Oriander came, from Mimir, to
be at war with the sea and to jeer at the sea's desire. When tempests are
seething and roaring from the Aesir's inverted bowl all seamen have
heard his shouting