CHAPTER XXVI.THE SIGURD SAGA.

Whilethe first part of the Elder Edda consists of a collection of alliterative poems describing the creation of the world, the adventures of the gods, their eventual downfall, and gives a complete exposition of the Northern code of ethics, the second part comprises a series of heroic lays describing the life and adventures of the Volsung family, and especially of their chief representative, Sigurd, the great Northern warrior.

The Volsunga Saga.

These lays form the basis of the great Scandinavian epic, the Volsunga Saga, and have supplied not only the materials for the Nibelungenlied, the German epic, and for countless folk tales, but also for Wagner’s celebrated operas, “The Rhinegold,” “Valkyr,” “Siegfried,” and “The Dusk of the Gods.” They have also been rewritten by William Morris, the English poet, who has given them the form which they will probably retain in our literature, and it is from his work that almost all the quotations in this chapter are taken in preference to extracts from the Edda.

Sigi.

Sigi, Odin’s son, was a powerful man, and generally respected until he killed a man out of jealousy because the latter had slain the most game when they were out hunting together. In consequence of this crime, Sigi was driven from his own land and declared an outlaw. But, although he was a criminal, he had not entirely forfeited Odin’s favor, for the god now gave him a well-equipped vessel, provided him with a number of brave followers, and promised that victory should ever attend him.

Thanks to Odin’s protection, Sigi soon won the glorious empire of the Huns and became a powerful monarch. But when he had attained extreme old age his fortune changed, Odin suddenly forsook him, his wife’s kindred fell upon him, and after a short encounter he was treacherously slain.

Rerir.

His death was soon avenged, however, for his son Rerir, returning from a journey, put all the murderers to death and claimed the throne. But, in spite of all outward prosperity, Rerir’s dearest wish, a son to succeed him, remained unfulfilled for many a year. Finally, however, Frigga decided to grant his constant prayer, and to vouchsafe the heir he longed for. Her swift messenger Gna, or Liod, was dispatched to carry him a miraculous apple, which she dropped into his lap as he was sitting alone on the hillside. Glancing upward, Rerir recognized the emissary of the goddess, and joyfully hastened home to partake of the apple with his wife. The child thus born in answer to their prayers was a handsome little lad called Volsung, who, losing both parents in early infancy, became ruler of all the land.

Volsung.

Every year Volsung’s wealth and power increased, and, as he was the boldest leader, many brave warriors rallied around him, and drank his mead sitting beneath the Branstock, a mighty oak, which, rising in the middle of his dwelling, pierced the roof and overshadowed the whole house.

“And as in all other matters ’twas all earthly houses’ crown,And the least of its wall-hung shields was a battle-world’s renown,So therein withal was a marvel and a glorious thing to see,For amidst of its midmost hall-floor sprang up a mighty tree,That reared its blessings roofward and wreathed the roof-tree dearWith the glory of the summer and the garland of the year.”

“And as in all other matters ’twas all earthly houses’ crown,

And the least of its wall-hung shields was a battle-world’s renown,

So therein withal was a marvel and a glorious thing to see,

For amidst of its midmost hall-floor sprang up a mighty tree,

That reared its blessings roofward and wreathed the roof-tree dear

With the glory of the summer and the garland of the year.”

Volsung did not long remain childless, for ten stalwart sons and one lovely daughter, Signy, came to brighten his home. As soon as this maiden reached marriageable years, many suitors asked for her hand, which was finally pledged to Siggeir, King of the Goths, whom, however, she had never seen.

The wedding of Signy.

The wedding day came, and when the bride first beheld her destined groom she shrank back in dismay, for his puny form and lowering glances contrasted oddly with her brothers’ strong frames and frank faces. But it was too late to withdraw,—the family honor was at stake,—and Signy so successfully concealed her dislike that none except her twin brother Sigmund suspected how reluctantly she became Siggeir’s wife.

The sword in the Branstock.

The wedding feast was held as usual, and when the merrymakings had reached their height the guests were startled by the sudden entrance of a tall, one-eyed man, closely enveloped in a mantle of cloudy blue. Without vouchsafing word or glance to any in the assembly, the stranger strode up to the Branstock and thrust a glittering sword up to the hilt in its great bole. Then, turning slowly around, he faced the awe-struck assembly, and in the midst of the general silence declared that the weapon would belong to the warrior who could pull it out, and that it would assure him victory in every battle. These words ended, he passed out and disappeared, leaving an intimate conviction in the minds of all the guests that Odin, king of the gods, had been in their midst.

“So sweet his speaking sounded, so wise his words did seem,That moveless all men sat there, as in a happy dreamWe stir not lest we waken; but there his speech had end,And slowly down the hall-floor and outward did he wend;And none would cast him a question or follow on his ways,For they knew that the gift was Odin’s, a sword for the world to praise.”

“So sweet his speaking sounded, so wise his words did seem,

That moveless all men sat there, as in a happy dream

We stir not lest we waken; but there his speech had end,

And slowly down the hall-floor and outward did he wend;

And none would cast him a question or follow on his ways,

For they knew that the gift was Odin’s, a sword for the world to praise.”

Volsung was the first to recover the power of speech, and, waiving his own right to try to secure the divine weapon, he invited Siggeir to make the first attempt to draw it out of the tree-trunk. The bridegroom anxiously tugged and strained, but the sword remained firmly embedded in the oak. He resumed his seat, with an air of chagrin, and then Volsung also tried and failed. But the weapon was evidently not intended for either of them, and the young Volsung princes were next invited to try their strength.

“Sons I have gotten and cherished, now stand ye forth and try;Lest Odin tell in God-home how from the way he strayed,And how to the man he would not he gave away his blade.”

“Sons I have gotten and cherished, now stand ye forth and try;

Lest Odin tell in God-home how from the way he strayed,

And how to the man he would not he gave away his blade.”

Sigmund.

The nine eldest sons were equally unsuccessful; but when Sigmund, the tenth and youngest, laid his firm young hand upon the hilt, it easily yielded to his touch, and he triumphantly drew the sword out without making the least exertion.

“At last by the side of the Branstock Sigmund the Volsung stood,And with right hand wise in battle the precious sword-hilt caught,Yet in a careless fashion, as he deemed it all for naught;When, lo, from floor to rafter went up a shattering shout,For aloft in the hand of Sigmund the naked blade showed outAs high o’er his head he shook it: for the sword had come awayFrom the grip of the heart of the Branstock, as though all loose it lay.”

“At last by the side of the Branstock Sigmund the Volsung stood,

And with right hand wise in battle the precious sword-hilt caught,

Yet in a careless fashion, as he deemed it all for naught;

When, lo, from floor to rafter went up a shattering shout,

For aloft in the hand of Sigmund the naked blade showed out

As high o’er his head he shook it: for the sword had come away

From the grip of the heart of the Branstock, as though all loose it lay.”

All present seemed overjoyed at his success; but Siggeir’s heart was filled with envy, for he coveted the possession of the weapon, which he now tried to purchase from his young brother-in-law. Sigmund, however, refused to part with it at any price, declaring that the weapon had evidently been intended for him only. This refusal so offended Siggeir that he secretly resolved to bide his time, to exterminate the proud race of the Volsungs, and thus secure the divine sword.

Concealing his chagrin therefore, he turned to Volsung and cordially invited him to visit his court a month later, bringing all his sons and kinsmen with him. The invitation so spontaneously given was immediately accepted, and although Signy, suspecting evil, secretly sought her father while her husband slept, and implored him to retract his promise and stay at home, he would not consent to appear afraid.

Siggeir’s treachery.

A few weeks after the return of the bridal couple Volsung’s well-manned vessels came within sight of Siggeir’s shores, and Signy perceiving them hastened down to the beach to imploreher kinsmen not to land, warning them that her husband had treacherously planned an ambush, whence they could never escape alive. But Volsung and his sons, whom no peril could daunt, calmly bade her return to her husband’s palace, and donning their arms they boldly set foot ashore.

THE BRANSTOCK.—Hoffmann.

“Then sweetly Volsung kissed her: ‘Woe am I for thy sake,But Earth the word hath hearkened, that yet unborn I spake;How I ne’er would turn me backward from the sword or fire of bale;——I have held that word till to-day, and to-day shall I change the tale?And look on these thy brethren, how goodly and great are they,Wouldst thou have the maidens mock them, when this pain hath passed awayAnd they sit at the feast hereafter, that they feared the deadly stroke?Let us do our day’s work deftly for the praise and the glory of folk;And if the Norns will have it that the Volsung kin shall fail,Yet I know of the deed that dies not, and the name that shall ever avail.’”

“Then sweetly Volsung kissed her: ‘Woe am I for thy sake,

But Earth the word hath hearkened, that yet unborn I spake;

How I ne’er would turn me backward from the sword or fire of bale;—

—I have held that word till to-day, and to-day shall I change the tale?

And look on these thy brethren, how goodly and great are they,

Wouldst thou have the maidens mock them, when this pain hath passed away

And they sit at the feast hereafter, that they feared the deadly stroke?

Let us do our day’s work deftly for the praise and the glory of folk;

And if the Norns will have it that the Volsung kin shall fail,

Yet I know of the deed that dies not, and the name that shall ever avail.’”

Marching towards the palace, the brave little troop soon fell into Siggeir’s ambuscade, and, although they fought with heroic courage, they were so overpowered by the superior number of their foes that Volsung was soon slain and all his sons made captive. Led bound into the presence of Siggeir, who had taken no part in the fight (for he was an arrant coward), Sigmund was forced to relinquish his precious sword, and he and his brothers were all condemned to die.

Signy, hearing this cruel sentence, vainly interceded for them, but all she could obtain by her prayers and entreaties was that her kinsmen should be chained to a fallen oak in the forest, there to perish of hunger and thirst if the wild beasts spared them. Then, fearing lest his wife should visit and succor her brothers, Siggeir confined her in the palace, where she was closely guarded night and day.

Early every morning Siggeir himself sent a messenger into the forest to see whether the Volsungs were still living, and every morning the man returned saying a monster had come during the night and had devoured one of the princes, leaving nothing but his bones. When none but Sigmund remained alive, Signy finally prevailed upon one of her servants to carry some honey into the forest and smear it over her brother’s face and mouth.

That very night the wild beast, attracted by the smell of the honey, licked Sigmund’s face, and even thrust its tongue into his mouth. Clinching his teeth upon it, Sigmund, weak and wounded as he was, struggled until his bonds broke and he could slay the nightly visitor who had caused the death of all his brothers. Then he vanished into the forest, where he remained concealed until the daily messenger had come and gone, and until Signy, released from captivity, came speeding to the forest to weep over her kinsmen’s remains.

Seeing her evident grief, and knowing she had no part in Siggeir’s cruelty, Sigmund stole out of his place of concealment, comforted her as best he could, helped her to bury the whitening bones, and registered a solemn oath in her presence to avenge his family’s wrongs. This vow was fully approved by Signy, who, however, bade her brother abide a favorable time, promising to send him a helper. Then the brother and sister sadly parted, she to return to her distasteful palace home, and he to seek the most remote part of the forest, where he built a tiny hut and plied the trade of a smith.

“And men say that Signy weptWhen she left that last of her kindred; yet wept she never moreAmid the earls of Siggeir, and as lovely as beforeWas her face to all men’s deeming: nor aught it changed for ruth,Nor for fear nor any longing; and no man said for soothThat she ever laughed thereafter till the day of her death was come.”

“And men say that Signy wept

When she left that last of her kindred; yet wept she never more

Amid the earls of Siggeir, and as lovely as before

Was her face to all men’s deeming: nor aught it changed for ruth,

Nor for fear nor any longing; and no man said for sooth

That she ever laughed thereafter till the day of her death was come.”

Signy’s sons.

Years passed by. Siggeir, having taken possession of the Volsung kingdom, proudly watched the growth of his eldest son,whom Signy secretly sent to her brother as soon as he was ten years of age, bidding Sigmund train the child up to help him, if he were worthy of such a task. Sigmund reluctantly accepted the charge; but as soon as he had tested the boy and found him deficient in physical courage, he either sent him back to his mother, or, as some versions relate, slew him.

Some time after this Sigmund tested Signy’s second son, who had been sent to him for the same purpose, and found him wanting also. Evidently none but a pure-blooded Volsung could help him in his work of revenge, and Signy, realizing this, resolved to commit a crime.

“And once in the dark she murmured: ‘Where then was the ancient songThat the Gods were but twin-born once, and deemed it nothing wrongTo mingle for the world’s sake, whence had the Æsir birth,And the Vanir, and the Dwarf-kind, and all the folk of earth?’”

“And once in the dark she murmured: ‘Where then was the ancient song

That the Gods were but twin-born once, and deemed it nothing wrong

To mingle for the world’s sake, whence had the Æsir birth,

And the Vanir, and the Dwarf-kind, and all the folk of earth?’”

This resolution taken, she summoned a beautiful young witch, exchanged forms with her, and, running into the forest, sought shelter in Sigmund’s hut. Deeming her nothing but the gypsy she seemed, and won by her coquetry, he soon made her his wife. Three days later she vanished from his hut, returned to the palace, resumed her own form, and when she gave birth to a little son, she rejoiced to see his bold glance and strong frame.

Sinfiotli.

When this child, Sinfiotli, was ten years of age, she herself made a preliminary test of his courage by sewing his garment to his skin. Then she suddenly snatched it off with shreds of flesh hanging to it, and as the child did not even wince, but laughed aloud, she confidently sent him to Sigmund. He, too, found the boy quite fearless, and upon leaving the hut one day he bade him take meal from a certain sack, and knead and bake the bread. On returning home Sigmund asked Sinfiotli whether his orders had been carried out. The lad replied by showing the bread, and when closely questioned heartlessly confessed that he had been obliged to knead into the loaf a great adder which was hidden in the meal. Pleased to see that the child, for whom he felt a strange affection, had successfully stood the test which had daunted his predecessors, Sigmund bade him refrain from eating of that loaf, as he alone could taste poison unharmed, and patiently began to teach him all a Northern warrior need know.

“For here the tale of the elders doth men a marvel to wit,That such was the shaping of Sigmund among all earthly kings,That unhurt he handled adders and other deadly things,And might drink unscathed of venom: but Sinfiotli was so wroughtThat no sting of creeping creatures would harm his body aught.”

“For here the tale of the elders doth men a marvel to wit,

That such was the shaping of Sigmund among all earthly kings,

That unhurt he handled adders and other deadly things,

And might drink unscathed of venom: but Sinfiotli was so wrought

That no sting of creeping creatures would harm his body aught.”

The werewolves.

Sigmund and Sinfiotli soon became inseparable companions, and while ranging the forest together they once came to a hut, where they found two men sound asleep. Wolf skins hanging near them immediately made them conclude that the strangers were werewolves (men whom a cruel spell forced to assume the habits and guise of ravenous wolves, and who could only resume their natural form for a short space at a time). Prompted by curiosity, Sigmund donned one of the wolf skins, Sinfiotli the other, and they were soon metamorphosed into wolves and rushed through the forest, slaying and devouring all they saw.

Such were their wolfish passions that they soon attacked each other, and after a fierce struggle Sinfiotli, the younger and weaker, fell down dead. This sudden catastrophe brought Sigmund to his senses. While he hung over his murdered companion in sudden despair, he saw two weasels come out of the forest and fight until one lay dead. The live weasel then sprang back into the thicket, and soon returned with a leaf, which it laid upon its companion’s breast. At the contact of the magic herb the dead beast came back to life. A moment later a raven flying overhead dropped a similar leaf at Sigmund’s feet, and he, understanding that the gods wished to help him, laid it upon Sinfiotli, who was restored to life.

Afraid lest they might work each other further mischief while in this altered guise, Sigmund and Sinfiotli now crept home and patiently waited until the time of release had come. On the ninth night the skins dropped off and they hastily flung them into the fire, where they were entirely consumed, and the spell was broken forever.

It was now that Sigmund confided the story of his wrongs to Sinfiotli, who swore that, although Siggeir was his father (for neither he nor Sigmund knew the secret of his birth), he would help him to take his revenge. At nightfall, therefore, he accompanied Sigmund to the palace; they entered unseen, and concealed themselves in the cellar, behind the huge beer vats. Here they were discovered by Signy’s two youngest children, who were playing with golden rings, which rolled into the cellar, and who thus suddenly came upon the men in ambush.

They loudly proclaimed the discovery they had just made to their father and his guests, but, before Siggeir and his men could don their arms, Signy caught both children by the hand, and dragging them into the cellar bade her brother slay the little traitors. This Sigmund utterly refused to do, but Sinfiotli struck off their heads ere he turned to fight against the assailants, who were rapidly closing around him.

In spite of all efforts Sigmund and his brave young companion soon fell into the hands of the Goths, whose king, Siggeir, sentenced them to be buried alive in the same mound, a stone partition being erected between them so they could neither see nor touch each other. The prisoners were already confined in their living graves, and the men were about to place the last stones on the roof, when Signy drew near, bearing a bundle of straw, which they allowed her to throw at Sinfiotli’s feet, for they fancied that it contained only a few provisions which would prolong his agony a little without helping him to escape.

When the workmen had departed and all was still, Sinfiotli undid the sheaf and shouted for joy when he found instead of bread the sword which Odin had given to Sigmund. Knowing thatnothing could dull or break the keen edge of this fine weapon, Sinfiotli thrust it through the stone partition, and, aided by Sigmund, sawed an opening, and both soon effected an escape through the roof.

“Then in the grave-mound’s darkness did Sigmund the king upstand,And unto that saw of battle he set his naked hand;And hard the gift of Odin home to their breasts they drew;Sawed Sigmund, sawed Sinfiotli, till the stone was cleft atwo,And they met and kissed together: then they hewed and heaved full hardTill, lo, through the bursten rafters the winter heavens bestarred!And they leap out merry-hearted; nor is there need to sayA many words between them of whither was the way.”

“Then in the grave-mound’s darkness did Sigmund the king upstand,

And unto that saw of battle he set his naked hand;

And hard the gift of Odin home to their breasts they drew;

Sawed Sigmund, sawed Sinfiotli, till the stone was cleft atwo,

And they met and kissed together: then they hewed and heaved full hard

Till, lo, through the bursten rafters the winter heavens bestarred!

And they leap out merry-hearted; nor is there need to say

A many words between them of whither was the way.”

Sigmund’s vengeance.

Sigmund and Sinfiotli, free once more, noiselessly sought the palace, piled combustible materials around it, and setting fire to it placed themselves on either side the door, declaring that none but the women should be allowed to pass through. Then they loudly called to Signy to escape ere it was too late, but she had no desire to live, and after kissing them both and revealing the secret of Sinfiotli’s birth she sprang back into the flames, where she perished.

“And then King Siggeir’s roof-tree upheaved for its utmost fall,And its huge walls clashed together, and its mean and lowly thingsThe fire of death confounded with the tokens of the kings.”

“And then King Siggeir’s roof-tree upheaved for its utmost fall,

And its huge walls clashed together, and its mean and lowly things

The fire of death confounded with the tokens of the kings.”

Helgi.

The long-planned vengeance had finally been carried out, Volsung’s death had been avenged, and Sigmund, feeling that nothing now detained him in Gothland, set sail with Sinfiotli and returned to Hunaland, where he was warmly welcomed and again sat under the shade of his ancestral tree, the mighty Branstock. His authority fully established, Sigmund married Borghild, a beautiful princess, who bore him two sons, Hamond and Helgi, the latter of whom was visited by the Norns when he lay in his cradle, and promised sumptuous entertainment in Valhalla when his earthly career should be ended.

“And the woman was fair and lovely, and bore him sons of fame;Men called them Hamond and Helgi, and when Helgi first saw lightThere came the Norns to his cradle and gave him life full bright,And called him Sunlit Hill, Sharp Sword, and Land of Rings,And bade him be lovely and great, and a joy in the tale of kings.”

“And the woman was fair and lovely, and bore him sons of fame;

Men called them Hamond and Helgi, and when Helgi first saw light

There came the Norns to his cradle and gave him life full bright,

And called him Sunlit Hill, Sharp Sword, and Land of Rings,

And bade him be lovely and great, and a joy in the tale of kings.”

This young Volsung prince was fostered by Hagal, for Northern kings generally entrusted their sons’ education to a stranger, thinking they would be treated with less indulgence than at home. Under this tuition Helgi became so fearless that at the age of fifteen he ventured alone into the palace of Hunding, with whose whole race his family was at feud. Passing all through the palace unmolested and unrecognized, he left an insolent message, which so angered Hunding that he immediately set out in pursuit of the bold young prince. Hunding entered Hagal’s house, and would have made Helgi a prisoner had the youth not disguised himself as a servant maid, and begun to grind corn as if it were his wonted occupation. The invaders marveled somewhat at the maid’s tall stature and brawny arms, but departed without suspecting that they had been so near the hero whom they sought.

Having thus cleverly escaped, Helgi joined Sinfiotli; they collected an army, and marched openly against the Hundings, with whom they fought a great battle, during which the Valkyrs hovered overhead, waiting to convey the slain to Valhalla. Gudrun, one of the battle maidens, was so charmed by the courage which Helgi displayed, that she openly sought him and promised to be his wife. Only one of the Hunding race, Dag, remained alive, and he was allowed to go free after promising never to try to avenge his kinsmen’s death. This promise was not kept, however, for Dag, having borrowed Odin’s spear Gungnir, treacherously made use of it to slay Helgi. Gudrun, now his wife, wept many tears at his death, and solemnly cursed his murderer; then, hearing from one of her maids that her slain husband kept calling for her in the depths of his tomb, she fearlessly entered the mound at night and tenderly inquired why he called and why his wounds kept on bleeding even after death. Helgi answeredthat he could not rest happy because of her grief, and declared that for every tear she shed a drop of his blood must flow.

“Thou weepest, gold-adorned!Cruel tears,Sun-bright daughter of the south!Ere to sleep thou goest;Each one falls bloodyOn the prince’s breast,Wet, cold, and piercing,With sorrow big.”Sæmund’s Edda(Thorpe’s tr.).

“Thou weepest, gold-adorned!Cruel tears,Sun-bright daughter of the south!Ere to sleep thou goest;Each one falls bloodyOn the prince’s breast,Wet, cold, and piercing,With sorrow big.”

“Thou weepest, gold-adorned!

Cruel tears,

Sun-bright daughter of the south!

Ere to sleep thou goest;

Each one falls bloody

On the prince’s breast,

Wet, cold, and piercing,

With sorrow big.”

Sæmund’s Edda(Thorpe’s tr.).

To still her beloved husband’s sufferings, Gudrun then ceased to weep, but her spirit soon joined his, which had ridden over Bifröst and entered Valhalla, where Odin made him leader of the Einheriar. Here Gudrun, a Valkyr once more, continued to wait upon him, darting down to earth at Odin’s command to seek new recruits for the army which her lord was to lead into battle when Ragnarok, the twilight of the gods, should come.

Death of Sinfiotli.

Sinfiotli, Sigmund’s eldest son, also came to an early death; for, having quarreled with and slain Borghild’s brother, she determined to poison him. Twice Sinfiotli detected the attempt and told his father there was poison in his cup. Twice Sigmund, whom no venom could injure, drained the bowl; but when Borghild made a third and last attempt, he bade Sinfiotli let the wine flow through his beard. Mistaking the meaning of his father’s words, Sinfiotli immediately drained the cup and fell to the ground lifeless, for the poison was of the most deadly kind.

“He drank as he spake the words, and forthwith the venom ranIn a chill flood over his heart, and down fell the mighty manWith never an uttered death-word and never a death-changed look,And the floor of the hall of the Volsungs beneath his falling shook.Then up rose the elder of days with a great and bitter cry,And lifted the head of the fallen; and none durst come anighTo hearken the words of his sorrow, if any words he saidBut such as the Father of all men might speak over Balder dead.And again, as before the death-stroke, waxed the hall of the Volsungs dim,And once more he seemed in the forest, where he spake with naught but him.”

“He drank as he spake the words, and forthwith the venom ran

In a chill flood over his heart, and down fell the mighty man

With never an uttered death-word and never a death-changed look,

And the floor of the hall of the Volsungs beneath his falling shook.

Then up rose the elder of days with a great and bitter cry,

And lifted the head of the fallen; and none durst come anigh

To hearken the words of his sorrow, if any words he said

But such as the Father of all men might speak over Balder dead.

And again, as before the death-stroke, waxed the hall of the Volsungs dim,

And once more he seemed in the forest, where he spake with naught but him.”

Speechless with grief, Sigmund tenderly raised his son’s body in his arms, and strode out of the hall and down to the shore, where he deposited his precious burden in the skiff of an old one-eyed boatman who came at his call. But when he would fain have stepped aboard also, the boatman pushed off and was soon lost to sight. The bereaved father then slowly wended his way home again, knowing that Odin himself had come to claim the young hero and had rowed away with him “out into the west.”

Hiordis.

Sigmund repudiated Borghild in punishment for this crime, and when he was very old indeed he sued for the hand of Hiordis, a fair young princess, daughter of Eglimi, King of the Islands. Although this young maiden had many suitors, among others King Lygni of Hunding’s race, she gladly accepted Sigmund and became his wife. Lygni, the discarded suitor, was so angry at this decision, that he immediately collected an army and marched against his successful rival, who, overpowered by superior numbers, fought with the courage of despair.

Hidden in a neighboring thicket, Hiordis and her maid anxiously watched the battle, saw Sigmund pile the dead around him and triumph over every foe, until at last a tall, one-eyed warrior suddenly appeared, broke his matchless sword, and vanished, leaving him defenseless amid the foe, who soon cut him down.

“But, lo! through the hedge of the war-shafts, a mighty man there came,One-eyed and seeming ancient, but his visage shone like flame:Gleaming gray was his kirtle, and his hood was cloudy blue;And he bore a mighty twi-bill, as he waded the fight-sheaves through,And stood face to face with Sigmund, and upheaved the bill to smite.Once more round the head of the Volsung fierce glittered the Branstock’s light,The sword that came from Odin: and Sigmund’s cry once moreRang out to the very heavens above the din of war.Then clashed the meeting edges with Sigmund’s latest stroke,And in shivering shards fell earthward that fear of worldly folk.But changed were the eyes of Sigmund, the war-wrath left his face;For that gray-clad, mighty Helper was gone, and in his placeDrave on the unbroken spear-wood ’gainst the Volsung’s empty hands:And there they smote down Sigmund, the wonder of all lands,On the foemen, on the death-heap his deeds had piled that day.”

“But, lo! through the hedge of the war-shafts, a mighty man there came,

One-eyed and seeming ancient, but his visage shone like flame:

Gleaming gray was his kirtle, and his hood was cloudy blue;

And he bore a mighty twi-bill, as he waded the fight-sheaves through,

And stood face to face with Sigmund, and upheaved the bill to smite.

Once more round the head of the Volsung fierce glittered the Branstock’s light,

The sword that came from Odin: and Sigmund’s cry once more

Rang out to the very heavens above the din of war.

Then clashed the meeting edges with Sigmund’s latest stroke,

And in shivering shards fell earthward that fear of worldly folk.

But changed were the eyes of Sigmund, the war-wrath left his face;

For that gray-clad, mighty Helper was gone, and in his place

Drave on the unbroken spear-wood ’gainst the Volsung’s empty hands:

And there they smote down Sigmund, the wonder of all lands,

On the foemen, on the death-heap his deeds had piled that day.”

All the Volsung race and army had already succumbed, so Lygni immediately left the battlefield to hasten on and take possession of the kingdom and palace, where he fully expected to find the fair Hiordis and force her to become his wife. As soon as he had gone, however, the beautiful young queen crept out of her hiding place in the thicket, ran to the dying Sigmund, caught him to her breast in a last passionate embrace, and tearfully listened to his dying words. He then bade her gather up the fragments of his sword, carefully treasure them, and give them to the son whom he foretold would soon be born, and who was destined to avenge his death and be far greater than he.

“‘I have wrought for the Volsungs truly, and yet have I known full wellThat a better one than I am shall bear the tale to tell:And for him shall these shards be smithied; and he shall be my son,To remember what I have forgotten and to do what I left undone.’”

“‘I have wrought for the Volsungs truly, and yet have I known full well

That a better one than I am shall bear the tale to tell:

And for him shall these shards be smithied; and he shall be my son,

To remember what I have forgotten and to do what I left undone.’”

Elf, the viking.

While Hiordis was mourning over Sigmund’s lifeless body, her watching handmaiden warned her of the approach of a party of vikings. Retreating into the thicket once more, Hiordis exchanged garments with her; then, bidding her walk first and personate the queen, they went to meet the viking Elf (Helfrat or Helferich), and so excited his admiration for Sigmund that he buried him with all pomp, and promised them a safe asylum in his house.

As he had doubted their relative positions from the very firstmoment, he soon resorted to a seemingly idle question to ascertain their real rank. The pretended queen, when asked how she knew the hour had come for rising when the winter days were short and there was no light to announce the coming of morn, replied that, as she was in the habit of drinking milk ere she fed the cows, she always awoke thirsty. But when the same question was put to the real Hiordis, she answered that she knew it was morning because the golden ring her father had given her grew cold on her hand.

Sigurd.

Elf, having thus discovered the true state of affairs, offered marriage to the pretended handmaiden, Hiordis, promising to foster her child by Sigmund—a promise which he nobly kept. The child was sprinkled with water by his hand—a ceremony which our pagan ancestors scrupulously performed—received from him the name of Sigurd, and grew up in the palace. There he was treated as the king’s own son, receiving his education from Regin, the wisest of men, who knew all things and was even aware of his own fate, which was to fall by a youth’s hand.

“Again in the house of the Helper there dwelt a certain man,Beardless and low of stature, of visage pinched and wan:So exceeding old was Regin, that no son of man could tellIn what year of the days passed over he came to that land to dwell:But the youth of king Elf had he fostered, and the Helper’s youth thereto,Yea, and his father’s father’s: the lore of all men he knew,And was deft in every cunning, save the dealings of the sword:So sweet was his tongue-speech fashioned, that men trowed his every word;His hand with the harp-strings blended was the mingler of delightWith the latter days of sorrow; all tales he told aright;The Master of the Masters in the smithying craft was he;And he dealt with the wind and the weather and the stilling of the sea;Nor might any learn him leech-craft, for before that race was made,And that man-folk’s generation, all their life-days had he weighed.”

“Again in the house of the Helper there dwelt a certain man,

Beardless and low of stature, of visage pinched and wan:

So exceeding old was Regin, that no son of man could tell

In what year of the days passed over he came to that land to dwell:

But the youth of king Elf had he fostered, and the Helper’s youth thereto,

Yea, and his father’s father’s: the lore of all men he knew,

And was deft in every cunning, save the dealings of the sword:

So sweet was his tongue-speech fashioned, that men trowed his every word;

His hand with the harp-strings blended was the mingler of delight

With the latter days of sorrow; all tales he told aright;

The Master of the Masters in the smithying craft was he;

And he dealt with the wind and the weather and the stilling of the sea;

Nor might any learn him leech-craft, for before that race was made,

And that man-folk’s generation, all their life-days had he weighed.”

Under this tutor young Sigurd grew up to great wisdom. He mastered the smith craft, and the art of carving all manner of runes, learned languages, music, and eloquence, and, last but not least, became a doughty warrior whom none could subdue. By Regin’s advice, Sigurd, having reached manhood, asked the king for a war horse—a request which was immediately granted, for he was bidden hasten to Gripir, the stud-keeper, and choose from his flock the steed he liked best.

On his way to the meadow where the horses were at pasture, Sigurd encountered a one-eyed stranger, clad in gray and blue, who bade him drive the horses into the river and select the one which could breast the foaming tide most successfully.

Sigurd, acting according to this advice, noticed that one horse, after crossing, raced around the meadow on the opposite side; then, plunging back into the river, he returned to his former pasture without showing any signs of fatigue. The young hero selected this horse, therefore, calling him Grane or Greyfell. This steed was a descendant of Odin’s eight-footed horse Sleipnir, and, besides being unusually strong and indefatigable, was as fearless as his master. A short time after this, while Regin and his pupil were sitting over the fire, the former struck his harp, and, after the manner of the Northern scalds, sang or recited the following tale, which was the story of his life:

The treasure of the dwarf king.

Hreidmar, king of the dwarf folk, was the father of three sons. Fafnir, the eldest, was gifted with a fearless soul and a powerful hand; Otter, the second, with snare and net, and the power of changing form at will; and Regin, the third, could, as we have already seen, command all knowledge and skillfully ply the trade of a smith. To please the avaricious old Hreidmar, this youngest son fashioned for him a house which was all lined with glittering gold and flashing gems, and guarded by Fafnir, whose fierce glances and Ægis helmet none dared encounter.

Now it came to pass that Odin, Hoenir, and Loki once came down upon earth in human guise for one of their wonted expeditionsto test the hearts of men, and soon reached the land where Hreidmar dwelt.

“And the three were the heart-wise Odin, the Father of the Slain,And Loki, the World’s Begrudger, who maketh all labor vain,And Hönir, the Utter-Blameless, who wrought the hope of man,And his heart and inmost yearnings, when first the work began;—The God that was aforetime, and hereafter yet shall beWhen the new light yet undreamed of shall shine o’er earth and sea.”

“And the three were the heart-wise Odin, the Father of the Slain,

And Loki, the World’s Begrudger, who maketh all labor vain,

And Hönir, the Utter-Blameless, who wrought the hope of man,

And his heart and inmost yearnings, when first the work began;—

The God that was aforetime, and hereafter yet shall be

When the new light yet undreamed of shall shine o’er earth and sea.”

These gods had not wandered very far before Loki perceived an otter basking in the sun. Animated by his usual spirit of destruction, he slew the unoffending beast—which, as it happened, was the dwarf king’s second son, Otter—and flung its lifeless body over his shoulders, thinking it would furnish a good dish when meal time came.

Following his companions, Loki came at last to Hreidmar’s house, entered with them, and flung his burden down upon the floor. The moment the dwarf king’s glance fell upon it he flew into a towering rage, and before the gods could help themselves they were bound by his order, and heard him declare that they should never recover their liberty unless they could satisfy his thirst for gold by giving him enough of that precious substance to cover the otterskin inside and out.

“‘Now hearken the doom I shall speak! Ye stranger-folk shall be freeWhen ye give me the Flame of the Waters, the gathered Gold of the Sea,That Andvari hideth rejoicing in the wan realm pale as the grave;And the Master of Sleight shall fetch it, and the hand that never gave,And the heart that begrudgeth forever, shall gather and give and rue.Lo, this is the doom of the wise, and no doom shall be spoken anew.’”

“‘Now hearken the doom I shall speak! Ye stranger-folk shall be free

When ye give me the Flame of the Waters, the gathered Gold of the Sea,

That Andvari hideth rejoicing in the wan realm pale as the grave;

And the Master of Sleight shall fetch it, and the hand that never gave,

And the heart that begrudgeth forever, shall gather and give and rue.

Lo, this is the doom of the wise, and no doom shall be spoken anew.’”

As this otterskin had the property of stretching itself out to a fabulous size, no ordinary treasure could suffice to cover it. The gods therefore bade Loki, who was liberated to procure the ransom, hasten off to the waterfall where the dwarf Andvari dwelt, and secure the treasure he had amassed by magical means.

“There is a desert of dread in the uttermost part of the world,Where over a wall of mountains is a mighty water hurled,Whose hidden head none knoweth, nor where it meeteth the sea;And that force is the Force of Andvari, and an Elf of the dark is he.In the cloud and the desert he dwelleth amid that land alone;And his work is the storing of treasure within his house of stone.”

“There is a desert of dread in the uttermost part of the world,

Where over a wall of mountains is a mighty water hurled,

Whose hidden head none knoweth, nor where it meeteth the sea;

And that force is the Force of Andvari, and an Elf of the dark is he.

In the cloud and the desert he dwelleth amid that land alone;

And his work is the storing of treasure within his house of stone.”

In spite of diligent search, however, Loki could not find the dwarf; but perceiving a salmon sporting in the foaming waters, he shrewdly concluded the dwarf must have assumed this shape, and borrowing Ran’s net he soon had the fish in his power. As he had suspected, it was Andvari, who, in exchange for liberty, reluctantly brought forth his mighty treasure and surrendered it all, including the Helmet of Dread and a hauberk of gold, reserving only the ring he wore, which was gifted with miraculous powers, and, like a magnet, helped him to collect the precious ore. But the greedy Loki, catching sight of it, wrenched it away from him and departed laughing, while the dwarf hurled angry curses after him, declaring that the ring would ever prove its possessor’s bane and would cause the death of many.

“That goldWhich the dwarf possessedShall to two brothersBe cause of death,And to eight princes,Of dissension.From my wealth no oneShall good derive.”Sæmund’s Edda(Thorpe’s tr.).

“That goldWhich the dwarf possessedShall to two brothersBe cause of death,And to eight princes,Of dissension.From my wealth no oneShall good derive.”

“That gold

Which the dwarf possessed

Shall to two brothers

Be cause of death,

And to eight princes,

Of dissension.

From my wealth no one

Shall good derive.”

Sæmund’s Edda(Thorpe’s tr.).

On arriving at Hreidmar’s hut, Loki found the mighty treasure none too great, for the skin widened and spread, and he waseven forced to give the ring Andvaranaut (Andvari’s loom) to purchase his and his companions’ release. The gold thus obtained soon became a curse, as Andvari had predicted, for Fafnir and Regin both coveted a share. As for Hreidmar, he gloated over his treasure night and day, and Fafnir the invincible, seeing that he could not obtain it otherwise, slew his own father, donned the Helmet of Dread and the hauberk of gold, grasped the sword Hrotti, and when Regin came to claim a part drove him scornfully out into the world, where he bade him earn his own living.

Thus exiled, Regin took refuge among men, to whom he taught the arts of sowing and reaping. He showed them how to work metals, sail the seas, tame horses, yoke beasts of burden, build houses, spin, weave, and sew—in short, all the industries of civilized life, which had hitherto been unknown. Years elapsed, and Regin patiently bided his time, hoping that some day he would find a hero strong enough to avenge his wrongs upon Fafnir, whom years of gloating over his treasure had changed into a horrible dragon, the terror of Gnîtaheid (Glittering Heath), where he had taken up his abode.

His story finished, Regin suddenly turned to the attentive Sigurd, told him he knew that he could slay the dragon if he wished, and inquired whether he were ready to help his old tutor avenge his wrongs.

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