The Story of Sigurd the Volsung Part 2

So now, when all things were ready, in the first of the autumn tide Adown unto the swan-bath the Volsung Children ride; And lightly go a shipboard, a goodly company, Though the tale thereof be scanty and their ships no more than three: But kings' sons dealt with the sail-sheets and earls and dukes of war Were the halers of the hawsers and the tuggers at the oar.

But when the sun on the morrow shone over earth and sea Ash.o.r.e went the Volsung Children a goodly company, And toward King Siggeir's dwelling o'er heath and holt they went.

But when they came to the topmost of a certain gra.s.sy bent, Lo there lay the land before them as thick with shield and spear As the rich man's wealthiest acre with the harvest of the year.

There bade King Volsung tarry and dight the wedge-array; "For duly," he said, "doeth Siggeir to meet his guests by the way."

So shield by shield they serried, nor ever hath been told Of any host of battle more glorious with the gold; And there stood the high King Volsung in the very front of war; And lovelier was his visage than ever heretofore, As he rent apart the peace-strings that his brand of battle bound And the bright blade gleamed to the heavens, and he cast the sheath to the ground.

Then up the steep came the Goth-folk, and the spear-wood drew anigh, And earth's face shook beneath them, yet cried they never a cry; And the Volsungs stood all silent, although forsooth at whiles O'er the faces grown earth-weary would play the flickering smiles, And swords would clink and rattle: not long had they to bide, For soon that flood of murder flowed round the hillock-side; Then at last the edges mingled, and if men forbore the shout, Yet the din of steel and iron in the grey clouds rang about; But how to tell of King Volsung, and the valour of his folk!

Three times the wood of battle before their edges broke; And the shield-wall, sorely dwindled and reft of the ruddy gold, Against the drift of the war-blast for the fourth time yet did hold.

But men's shields were waxen heavy with the weight of shafts they bore, And the fifth time many a champion cast earthward Odin's door And gripped the sword two-handed; and in sheaves the spears came on.

And at last the host of the Goth-folk within the shield-wall won, And wild was the work within it, and oft and o'er again Forth brake the sons of Volsung, and drave the foe in vain; For the driven throng still thickened, till it might not give aback.

But fast abode King Volsung amid the shifting wrack In the place where once was the forefront: for he said: "My feet are old, And if I wend on further there is nought more to behold Than this that I see about me."--Whiles drew his foes away And stared across the corpses that before his sword-edge lay.

But nought he followed after: then needs must they in front Thrust on by the thickening spear-throng come up to bear the brunt, Till all his limbs were weary and his body rent and torn: Then he cried: "Lo now, Allfather, is not the swathe well shorn?

Wouldst thou have me toil for ever, nor win the wages due?"

And mid the hedge of foemen his blunted sword he threw, And, laid like the oars of a longship the level war-shafts pressed On 'gainst the unshielded elder, and clashed amidst his breast; And dead he fell, thrust backward, and rang on the dead men's gear: But still for a certain season durst no man draw anear, For 'twas e'en as a great G.o.d's slaying, and they feared the wrath of the sky; And they deemed their hearts might harden if awhile they should let him lie.

_Of the ending of all Volsung's Sons save Sigmund only, and of how he abideth in the wild wood._

They joined battle again, but the fight grew feeble after Volsung fell, and his earls were struck down one by one. Last of all, his sons were borne to earth and carried captive to the hall, where Siggeir awaited them, for he himself had feared to face the Volsung swords.

Then he would have slain them at once without torture, but Signy besought him that they might breathe the earthly air a day or two before their death, and he listened to her, for he saw how he might thus give them greater pain. He bade his men lead them to a glade in the forest and fetter them to the mightiest tree that grew there. So the ten Volsungs were fettered with iron to a great oak, and on the morrow Siggeir's woodmen told him sweet tidings, for beasts of the wood had devoured two and left their bones in the fetters. So it befell every night till the woodmen brought word that nothing remained of the king's foemen save their bones in the fetters that had bound them.

Now a watch had been set on Signy lest she should send help to her brethren, but henceforth no man hindered her from going out to the wood. So that night she came to the glade in the forest, and saw in the midst of it a mighty man who was toiling to dig a grave in the greensward.

And behold, it was Sigmund the Volsung: but she cried and had no fear:

"If thou art living, Sigmund, what day's work dost thou here In the midnight and the forest? but if thou art nought but a ghost Then where are those Volsung brethren, of whom thou wert best and most?"

Then he turned about unto her, and his raiment was fouled and torn, And his eyen were great and hollow, as a famished man forlorn;

But he cried: "Hail, Sister Signy! I looked for thee before, Though what should a woman compa.s.s, she one alone and no more, When all we shielded Volsungs did nought in Siggeir's land?

O yea, I am living indeed, and this labour of mine hand Is to bury the bones of the Volsungs; and lo, it is well-nigh done.

So draw near, Volsung's daughter, and pile we many a stone Where lie the grey wolf's gleanings of what was once so good."

So she set her hand to the labour, and they toiled, they twain in the wood, And when the work was over, dead night was beginning to fall: Then spake the white-hand Signy: "Now shall thou tell the tale Of the death of the Volsung brethren ere the wood thy wrath shall hide, Ere I wend me back sick-hearted in the dwelling of kings to abide."

Then said Sigmund:

"We lay fettered to the tree and at midnight there came from the thicket two mighty wood-wolves, and falling on my brethren Gylfi and Geirmund, they devoured them in their bonds, and turned again to the forest. Night after night, my sister, this befell, till I was left alone with our brother Sigi to await the wood-beasts. Then came midnight, and one of the wolves fell upon Sigi and the other turned on me. But I met it with snarling like its own, and my teeth gripped its throat, and my hands strove with the fetters till they burst. So I slew the beast with my irons, but when I looked, Sigi lay dead, and the other wolf had fled again to the thicket. Then I lay hid till Siggeir's woodmen had looked on the place and departed with their tidings, and as I beheld them I knew that pity was killed in my heart, and that henceforward I should live but to avenge me on him who hath so set the G.o.ds at nought." Then Signy spake n.o.ble words of comfort, saying: "I wot well that Siggeir shall pay the due price of his deeds, though the vengeance may tarry long, and I wot also that thy life shall yet know gladness. Bear a stout heart, therefore, to meet the waiting time, and make thee a lair in the woods whence thou mayest fall on men of the Goth-folk, and win what thy life needeth.

As for me, I will see thy face once again ere many days are past to wot where thou dwellest and then must we meet no more."

And so saying, she kissed him and departed, but Sigmund turned in the dawn-light, and sought a wood-lair as she had bidden him.

_Of the fostering of Sinfiotli, Signy's son, and of the slaying of Siggeir the Goth-king._

So wrought is the will of King Siggeir, and he weareth Odin's sword And it lies on his knees in the council and hath no other lord: And he sendeth earls o'er the sea-flood to take King Volsung's land, And those scattered and shepherdless sheep must come beneath his hand.

And he holdeth the milk-white Signy as his handmaid and his wife, And nought but his will she doeth, nor raiseth a word of strife; So his heart is praising his wisdom, and he deems him of most avail Of all the lords of the cunning that teacheth how to prevail.

Now Sigmund dwelt long in the wild-wood, abiding in a strong cave deep hidden in a thicket by the river-side.

And now and again he fell upon the folk of Siggeir as they journeyed, and slew them, and thus he had war-gear and gold as much as he would.

Also he became a master of masters in the smithying craft, and the folk who beheld the gleam of his forge by night, deemed that a king of the Giants was awakened from death to dwell there, and they durst not wander near the cavern.

So pa.s.sed the years till on a springtide morning Signy sent forth to Sigmund a damsel leading her eldest son, a child of ten summers, and bearing a word of her mouth to bid him foster the child for his helper, if he should prove worthy and bold-hearted. And Sigmund heeded her words and fostered the child for the s.p.a.ce of three months even though he could give no love to a son of Siggeir.

At last he was minded to try the boy's courage, to which end he set a deadly ash-grey adder in the meal-sack, and bade the child bake bread.

But he feared when he found something that moved in the meal and had not courage to do the task. Then would Sigmund foster him no longer, but thrust him out from the woods to return to his father's hall.

So ten years won over again, and Signy sent another son to the wild-wood, and the lad was called Sinfiotli. Sigmund thrust him into many dangers, and burdened him with heavy loads, and he bore all pa.s.sing well.

Now after a year Sigmund deemed that the time for his testing was come, and once again he set an adder in the meal-sack and bade the lad bake bread. And the boy feared not the worm, but kneaded it with the dough and baked all together. So Sigmund cherished him as his own son, and he grew strong and valiant and loved Sigmund as his father.

Now Sigmund began to ponder how he might at last take vengeance on Siggeir, and gladly did Sinfiotli hear him, for all his love was given to Sigmund, so that he no longer deemed himself the Goth-king's son.

At last when the long mirk nights of winter were come, Sigmund and his foster-son went their way to the home of Siggeir and sought to lurk therein. Then Sinfiotli led the way to a storehouse where lay great wine-casks, and whence they could see the lighted feast-hall, and hear the clamour of Siggeir's folk. There they had to abide the time when the feasters should be hushed in sleep. Long seemed the hours to Sinfiotli, but Sigmund was calm and clear-eyed.

Then it befell that two of Queen Signy's youngest-born children threw a golden toy hither and thither in the feast-hall, and at last it rolled away among the wine-casks till it lay at Sigmund's feet. So the children followed it, and coming face to face with those lurkers, they fled back to the feast-hall. And Sigmund and his foster-son saw all hope was ended, for they heard the rising tumult as men ran to their weapons; so they made ready to go forth and die in the hall. Then on came the battle around the twain, and but short is the tale to tell, for Sinfiotli slipped on the blood-stained floor and the shield wall encompa.s.sed Sigmund, and so they were both hoppled strait and fast.

The Goth-folk washed their hall of blood and got them to slumber, but Siggeir lay long pondering what dire death he might bring on his foes.

Now at the first grey dawning Siggeir's folk dight a pit and it had two chambers with a sundering stone in the midst. Then they brought the Volsung kindred and set them therein, one in each chamber, that they might abide death alone, and yet in hearing of one another's woe.

And over the top the thralls laid roofing turfs, but so lingering were their hands that eve drew on ere the task was finished. Then stole Signy forth in the dusk, and spake the thralls fair, and gave them gold that they might hold their peace of what she did. And when they gainsaid her nought she drew out something wrapped in wheat straw, and cast it down swiftly into the pit where Sinfiotli lay, and departed.

Sinfiotli at first deemed it food, but after a s.p.a.ce Sigmund heard him laugh aloud for joy, for within the wrappings lay the sword of the Branstock. And Sinfiotli cried out the joyous tidings to his foster-father, and tarried not to set the point to the stone that sundered them, and lo, the blade pierced through, and Sigmund grasped the point. Then sawed Sigmund and Sinfiotli together till they cleft the stone, and they hewed full hard at the roofing, till they cast the turfs aside, and their hearts were gladdened with the sight of the starry heaven.

Forth they leapt, and no words were needed of whither they should wend, but they fell on King Siggeir's night-watch and slew them sleeping, and made haste to find the store of winter f.a.ggots, wherewith they built a mighty bale about the hall of Siggeir. They set a torch to the bale, and Sigmund gat him to one hall door and Sinfiotli to the other, and now the Goth-folk awoke to their last of days.

Then cried Siggeir to his thralls and offered them joyous life-days and plenteous wealth if they would give him life, deeming that they had fired the hall in hatred. But there came a great voice crying from the door, "Nay, no toilers are we; wealth is ours when we list, but now our hearts are set to avenge our kin; now hath the murder seed sprung and borne its fruit; now the death-doomed and buried work this deed; now doom draweth nigh thee at the hand of Sigmund the Volsung, and Sinfiotli, Signy's son."

Then the voice cried again, "Come ye forth, women of the Goths, and thou, O Signy, my sister, come forth to seek the boughs of the Branstock." So fled the white-faced women from the fire, and pa.s.sed scatheless by Sinfiotli's blade, but Signy came not at all. Then the earls of Siggeir strove to burst from the hall, but ever the two glaives at the doorways drove them back to the fire.

And, lo, now came Signy in queenly raiment, and stood before Sinfiotli and said, "O mightiest son, this is the hour of our parting, and fain am I of slumber and the end of my toil now I have seen this day. And the blither do I leave thee because thy days on earth shall be but few; I charge thee make thy life glorious, and leave a goodly tale."

She kissed him and turned to Sigmund, and her face in the dawn-light seemed to him fair and ruddy as in the days when they twain dwelt by the Branstock. And she said, "My youth was happy, yet this hour is the crown of my life-days which draw nigh their ending. And now I charge thee, Sigmund, when thou sittest once more a mighty king beneath the boughs of the Branstock, that thou remember how I loved the Volsung name, and spared not to spend all that was mine for its blossoming." Then she kissed him and turned again, and the dawn brightened at her back, and the fire shone red before her, and so for the last time was Signy beheld by the eyes of men. Thereafter King Siggeir's roof-tree bowed earthward, and the mighty walls crashed down, and so that dark murder-hall lay wasted, and its glory was swept away.

_How Sigmund cometh to the Land of the Volsungs again, and of the death of Sinfiotli his Son._

Now Sigmund the king bestirs him, and Sinfiotli, Sigmund's son, And they gather a host together, and many a mighty one; Then they set the ships in the sea-flood and sail from the stranger's sh.o.r.e, And the beaks of the golden dragons see the Volsungs' land once more; And men's hearts are fulfilled of joyance; and they cry, The sun shines now With never a curse to hide it, and they shall reap that sow!

Then for many a day sits Sigmund 'neath the boughs of the Branstock green, With his earls and lords about him as the Volsung wont hath been.

And oft he thinketh on Signy and oft he nameth her name, And tells how she spent her joyance and her life-days and her fame That the Volsung kin might blossom and bear the fruit of worth For the hope of unborn people and the harvest of the earth.

And again he thinks of the word that he spake that other day, How he should abide there lonely when his kin was pa.s.sed away, Their glory and sole avenger, their after-summer seed.