Since He has come to earth the bloody sacrifices
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, young woodsman, show thy craft! The king-tree of the
forest must fall, and swiftly, or all is lost!"
The two men took their places facing each other, one on each side
of the oak. Their cloaks were flung aside, their heads bare.
Carefully they felt the ground with their feet, seeking a firm
grip of the earth. Firmly they grasped the axe-helves and swung
the shining blades.
"Tree-god!" cried Winfried, "art thou angry? Thus we smite thee!"
"Tree-god!" answered Gregor, "art thou mighty? Thus we fight
thee!"
Clang! clang! the alternate strokes beat time upon the hard,
ringing wood.
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