The Blue Flower [69]
left.
Even so Winfried's bold deed fell into the midst of the
thoughts and passions of the council. They were at a
standstill. Anger and wonder, reverence and joy and confusion
surged through the crowd. They knew not which way to move: to
resent the intrusion of the stranger as an insult to their gods,
or to welcome him as the rescuer of their prince.
The old priest crouched by the altar, silent. Conflicting
counsels troubled the air. Let the sacrifice go forward; the
gods must be appeased. Nay, the boy must not die; bring the
chieftain's best horse and slay it in his stead; it will be
enough; the holy tree loves the blood of horses. Not so,
there is a better counsel yet; seize the stranger whom the
gods have led hither as a victim and make his life pay the
forfeit of his daring.
The withered leaves on the oak rustled and whispered
overhead. The fire flared and sank again. The angry voices
clashed against each other and fell like opposing waves. Then
the chieftain Gundhar struck the earth with his spear and gave
his decision.
"All have spoken, but none are agreed. There is no voice
of the council. Keep silence now, and let the stranger speak.
His words shall give us judgment, whether he is to live or to
die."
Winfried lifted himself high upon the altar, drew a roll
of parchment from his bosom, and began to read.
"A letter from the great Bishop of Rome, who sits on a
golden throne, to the people of the forest, Hessians and
Thuringians, Franks and Saxons. In nomin Domini, sanctae et
individuae Trinitatis, amen!"
A murmur of awe ran through the crowd. "It is the sacred
tongue of the Romans; the tongue that is heard and understood
by the wise men of every land. There is magic in it.
Listen!"
Winfried went on to read the letter, translating it into
the speech of the people.
"We have sent unto you our Brother Boniface, and appointed
him your bishop, that he may teach you the only true faith,
and baptise you, and lead you back from the ways of error to
the path of salvation. Hearken to him in all things like a
father. Bow your hearts to his teaching. He comes not for
earthly gain, but for the gain of your souls. Depart from
evil works. Worship not the false gods, for they are devils.
Offer no more bloody sacrifices, nor eat the flesh of horses, but
do as our Brother Boniface commands you. Build a house for him
that he may dwell among you, and a church where you may offer
your prayers to the only living God, the Almighty King of
Heaven."
It was a splendid message: proud, strong, peaceful,
loving. The dignity of the words imposed mightily upon the
hearts of the people. They were quieted as men who have
listened to a lofty strain of music.
"Tell us, then," said Gundhar, "what is the word that thou
bringest to us from the Almighty? What is thy counsel for the
tribes of the woodland on this night of sacrifice?"
"This is the word, and this is the counsel," answered
Winfried. "Not a drop of blood shall fall to-night, save that
which pity has drawn from the breast of your princess, in love
for her child. Not a life shall be blotted out in the
darkness to-night; but the great shadow of the tree which
hides you from the light of heaven shall be swept away. For
this is the birth-night of the white Christ, son of the
All-Father, and Saviour of mankind. Fairer is He than Baldur
the Beautiful, greater than Odin the Wise, kinder than Freya
the Good. Since He has come to earth the bloody sacrifice
must cease. The dark Thor, on whom you vainly call, is dead.
Deep in the shades of Niffelheim he is lost forever. His
power in the world is broken. Will you serve a helpless god?
See, my brothers, you call this tree his oak. Does he dwell
here? Does he protect it?"
A troubled voice of assent rose from the throng. The
people stirred uneasily. Women covered their eyes. Hunrad
lifted his head and muttered hoarsely, "Thor! take vengeance!
Thor!"
Winfried beckoned to Gregor. "Bring the axes, thine and
one for me. Now,