The Story of Sigurd the Volsung Part 3

But far and wide went Sinfiotli through the earth, mowing the war swathe and wasting the land, and pa.s.sing but little time in song and laughter in his father's hall. So went his days in warfare and valour, and yet his end was not glorious, for he drank of the poisoned cup given him by the sister of a warrior he had rightly slain.

None might come nigh Sigmund in his anguish as he lifted the head of his fallen foster-child, and then swiftly bare him from the hall. On he went through dark thicket and over wind-swept heath, past the foot-hills and the homes of the deer, till he came to a great rushing water, whereon was a white-sailed boat, manned by a mighty man, "one-eyed and seeming ancient." This mighty one told Sigmund he had been bidden to waft a great king over the water, and bade him lay his burden on board, but when Sigmund would have followed he could see neither ship nor man.

But Sigmund went back to his throne, and behaved himself as a king, listening to his people's plaints, and dealing out justice.

_Of the last battle of King Sigmund, and the death of him._

Now there was a king of the Islands, whom the tale doth Eylimi call, And saith he was wise and valiant, though his kingdom were but small: He had one only daughter that Hiordis had to name, A woman wise and shapely beyond the praise of fame.

And now saith the son of King Volsung that his time is short enow To labour the Volsung garden, and the hand must be set to the plough: So he sendeth an earl of the people to King Eylimi's high-built hall, Bearing the gifts and the tokens, and this word in his mouth withal:

"King Sigmund the son of Volsung hath sent me here with a word That plenteous good of thy daughter among all folk he hath heard, And he wooeth that wisest of women that she may sit on his throne.

"Now hereof would he have an answer within a half-month's s.p.a.ce, And these gifts meanwhile he giveth for the increase of thy grace."

So King Eylimi hearkened the message, and hath no word to say, For an earl of King Lyngi the mighty is come that very day, He too for the wooing of Hiordis: and Lyngi's realm is at hand, But afar King Sigmund abideth o'er many a sea and land: And the man is young and eager, and grim and guileful of mood.

At last he sayeth: "Abide here such s.p.a.ce as thou deemest good, But tomorn shalt thou have thine answer that thine heart may the lighter be, For the hearkening of harp and songcraft, and the dealing with game and glee."

Then he went to Queen Hiordis' bower, where she worked in the silk and the gold The deeds of the world that should be, and the deeds that were of old.

And he stood before her and said:

"Often have I told thee that thou shouldst wed only the man thou wouldst. Now it hath come to pa.s.s that two kings desire thee."

And she swiftly rose to her feet as she said, "And which be they?"

He spake: "The first is Lyngi, a valiant man and a fair, A neighbour ill for thy father, if a foe's name he must bear: And the next is King Sigmund the Volsung of a land far over sea, And well thou knowest his kindred, and his might and his valiancy, And the tales of his heart of a G.o.d; and though old he be waxen now, Yet men deem that the wide world's blossom from Sigmund's loins shall grow."

Said Hiordis: "I wot, my father, that hereof may strife arise; Yet soon spoken is mine answer; for I, who am called the wise, Shall I thrust by the praise of the people, and the tale that no ending hath, And the love and the heart of the G.o.dlike, and the heavenward-leading path, For the rose and the stem of the lily, and the smooth-lipped youngling's kiss, And the eyes' desire that pa.s.seth, and the frail unstable bliss?

Now shalt thou tell King Sigmund, that I deem it the crown of my life To dwell in the house of his fathers amidst all peace and strife."

Now the king's heart sore misgave him, but herewith must he be content, And great gifts to the earl of Lyngi and a word withal he sent, That the woman's troth was plighted to another people's king.

But King Sigmund's earl on the morrow hath joyful yea-saying, And ere two moons be perished he shall fetch his bride away.

"And bid him," King Eylimi sayeth, "to come with no small array, But with sword and shield and war-shaft, lest aught of ill betide."

So forth goes the earl of Sigmund across the sea-flood wide, And comes to the land of the Volsungs, and meeteth Sigmund the king, And tells how he sped on his errand, and the joyful yea-saying.

So King Sigmund maketh him ready, and they ride adown to the sea All glorious of gear and raiment, and a goodly company.

Yet hath Sigmund thought of his father, and the deed he wrought before, And hath scorn to gather his people and all his hosts of war To wend to the feast and the wedding: yet are their long-ships ten, And the shielded folk aboard them are the mightiest men of men.

So Sigmund goeth a shipboard, and they hoist their sails to the wind, And the beaks of the golden dragons leave the Volsungs' land behind.

Then come they to Eylimi's kingdom, and good welcome have they there, And when Sigmund looked on Hiordis, he deemed her wise and fair.

But her heart was exceeding fain when she saw the glorious king, And it told her of times that should be full many a n.o.ble thing.

So there is Sigmund wedded at a great and goodly feast, And day by day on Hiordis the joy of her heart increased; And her father joyed in Sigmund and his might and majesty, And dead in the heart of the Isle-king his ancient fear did lie.

Yet, forsooth, had men looked seaward, they had seen the gathering cloud, And the little wind arising, that should one day pipe so loud.

For well may ye wot indeed that King Lyngi the Mighty is wroth, When he getteth the gifts and the answer, and that tale of the woman's troth: And he saith he will have the gifts and the woman herself withal, Either for loving or hating, and that both those heads shall fall.

So now when Sigmund and Hiordis are wedded a month or more, And the Volsung bids men dight them to cross the sea-flood o'er, Lo, how there cometh the tidings of measureless mighty hosts Who are gotten ash.o.r.e from their long-ships on the skirts of King Eylimi's coasts.

Sore boded the heart of the Isle-king of what the end should be.

But Sigmund long beheld him, and he said: "Thou deem'st of me That my coming hath brought thee evil; but put aside such things; For long have I lived, and I know it, that the lives of mighty kings Are not cast away, nor drifted like the down before the wind; And surely I know, who say it, that never would Hiordis' mind Have been turned to wed King Lyngi or aught but the Volsung seed.

Come, go we forth to the battle, that shall be the latest deed Of thee and me meseemeth: yea, whether thou live or die, No more shall the brand of Odin at peace in his scabbard lie."

And therewith he brake the peace-strings and drew the blade of bale, And Death on the point abided, Fear sat on the edges pale.

So men ride adown to the sea-strand, and the kings their hosts array When the high noon flooded heaven; and the men of the Volsungs lay, With King Eylimi's shielded champions mid Lyngi's hosts of war, As the brown pips lie in the apple when ye cut it through the core.

But now when the kings were departed, from the King's house Hiordis went, And before men joined the battle she came to a woody bent, Where she lay with one of her maidens the death and the deeds to behold.

In the noon sun shone King Sigmund as an image all of gold, And he stood before the foremost and the banner of his fame, And many a thing he remembered, and he called on each earl by his name To do well for the house of the Volsungs, and the ages yet unborn.

Then he tossed up the sword of the Branstock, and blew on his father's horn, Dread of so many a battle, doom-song of so many a man.

Then all the earth seemed moving as the hosts of Lyngi ran On the Volsung men and the Isle-folk like wolves upon the prey; But sore was their labour and toil ere the end of their harvesting day.

On went the Volsung banners, and on went Sigmund before, And his sword was the flail of the tiller on the wheat of the wheat-thrashing floor, And his shield was rent from his arm, and his helm was sheared from his head: But who may draw nigh him to smite for the heap and the rampart of dead?

White went his hair on the wind like the ragged drift of the cloud, And his dust-driven, blood-beaten harness was the death-storm's angry shroud, When the summer sun is departing in the first of the night of wrack; And his sword was the cleaving lightning, that smites and is hurried aback Ere the hand may rise against it; and his voice was the following thunder.

Then cold grew the battle before him, dead-chilled with the fear and the wonder: For again in his ancient eyes the light of victory gleamed; From his mouth grown tuneful and sweet the song of his kindred streamed; And no more was he worn and weary, and no more his life seemed spent: And with all the hope of his childhood was his wrath of battle blent; And he thought: A little further, and the river of strife is pa.s.sed, And I shall sit triumphant the king of the world at last.

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-grey 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, and the war-wrath left his face; For that grey-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.

Ill hour for Sigmund's fellows! they fall like the seeded hay Before the brown scythes' sweeping, and there the Isle-king fell In the fore-front of his battle, wherein he wrought right well, And soon they were nought but foemen who stand upon their feet On the isle-strand by the ocean where the gra.s.s and the sea-sand meet.

And now hath the conquering War-king another deed to do, And he saith: "Who now gainsayeth King Lyngi come to woo, The lord and the overcomer and the bane of the Volsung kin?"

So he fares to the Isle-king's dwelling a wife of the kings to win; And the host is gathered together, and they leave the field of the dead; And round as a targe of the Goth-folk the moon ariseth red.

And so when the last is departed, and she deems they will come not aback, Fares Hiordis forth from the thicket to the field of the fateful wrack, And half-dead was her heart for sorrow as she waded the swathes of the sword.

Not far did she search the death-field ere she found her king and lord On the heap that his glaive had fashioned: not yet was his spirit past, Though his hurts were many and grievous, and his life-blood ebbing fast; And glad were his eyes and open as her wan face over him hung, And he spake: "Thou art sick with sorrow, and I would thou wert not so young; Yet as my days pa.s.sed shall thine pa.s.s; and a short while now it seems Since my hand first gripped the sword-hilt, and my glory was but in dreams."

She said: "Thou livest, thou livest! the leeches shall heal thee still."

"Nay," said he, "my heart hath hearkened to Odin's bidding and will; For today have mine eyes beheld him: nay, he needed not to speak: Forsooth I knew of his message and the thing he came to seek.

And now do I live but to tell thee of the days that are yet to come: And perchance to solace thy sorrow; and then will I get me home To my kin that are gone before me. Lo, yonder where I stood The shards of a glaive of battle that was once the best of the good: Take them and keep them surely. I have lived no empty days; The Norns were my nursing mothers; I have won the people's praise.

When the G.o.ds for one deed asked me I ever gave them twain; Spendthrift of glory I was, and great was my life-days' gain; Now these shards have been my fellow in the work the G.o.ds would have, But today hath Odin taken the gift that once he gave.

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."

Then failed the voice of Sigmund; but so mighty was the man, That a long while yet he lingered till the dusky night grew wan, And she sat and sorrowed o'er him, but no more a word he spake.

Then a long way over the sea-flood the day began to break; And when the sun was arisen a little he turned his head Till the low beams bathed his eyen, and there lay Sigmund dead.

And the sun rose up on the earth; but where was the Volsung kin And the folk that the G.o.ds had begotten the praise of all people to win?

_How King Sigmund the Volsung was laid in mound on the sea-side of the Isle-realm._