CHAPTER XXXI. MYTHS OF NORSE AND OLD GERMAN HEROES. $ 185. The Saga of the Volsungs. Sigi, the son of Odin, was a mighty king of the Huns whom Odin loved and prospered exceedingly. Rerir, also, the son of Sigi, was a man of valor and one who got lordship and land unto himself; but neither Sigi nor Rerir were to compare with Volsung, who ruled over Hunland after his father Rerir went home to Odin. To Volsung were born ten sons, and one daughter, Signy by name; and of the sons Sigmund was the eldest and the most valiant. And the Volsungs abode in peace till Siggeir, king of Gothland, came wooing Signy, who, though loth to accept him, was, by her father's desire, betrothed to him. Now on the night of the wedding great fires were made in the hall of the Volsungs, and in the midst stood Branstock, a great oak tree, about which the hall had been built, and the limbs of the tree spread over the roof of the hall; and round about Branstock they sat and feasted, and sang of ancient heroes and heard the music of the harp that went from hand to hand. But e'en as men's hearts were hearkening some heard the thunder pass 2 And deemed that in the doorway they heard a man laugh out. 1 See the Story of the Volsungs, by William Morris and Eirikr Magnusson; William Morris' Sigurd the Volsung; Vigfusson and Powell's Corpus Poeticum Boreale; and Commentary § 185. 2 The extracts in verse are from William Morris' Sigurd the Volsung. A bill he bore on his shoulder, whose mighty ashen beam Burnt bright with the flame of the sea, and the blended silver's gleam. But forth from his cloudy raiment he drew a gleaming sword, 66 Earls of the Goths, and Volsungs, abiders on the earth, Lo there amid the Branstock a blade of plenteous worth! Be merry, Earls of the Goth-folk, O Volsung Sons be wise, And reap the battle-acre that ripening for you lies: For they told me in the wild wood, I heard on the mountain-side 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. Then all made trial, Siggeir and his earls, and Volsung and his people, to draw forth the sword from Branstock, but with no success, till Sigmund, laying his hand carelessly on the precious hilt, drew forth the naked blade as though it were loose in the oak. Whereupon Siggeir offered money for the sword, but Sigmund scorned the offer. But in time Siggeir had his vengeance. Inviting King Volsung and his sons to Gothland, he fell upon them, slew the king, and suffered the sons, fastened under a log, to be devoured in succes sion by a she-wolf, — all but Sigmund, who through the wile of his sister Signy was rescued. He, driven to the life of an outlaw, sought means to avenge his father, and Signy, on her part, strove to aid him, without avail, however, till Sinfiotli, the son of herself and Sigmund, was grown to manhood. This youth bore Sigmund company. For a season, as wolves, they scoured the woods; finally resuming the form of men, they slew the children of Siggeir, and burned him in his hall. Signy, having helped to avenge her father, died with her husband. Sigmund, thereupon, became king, and took to himself a wife. But she, suffering injury at the hands of Sinfiotli, poisoned him with a horn of ale. Then Sigmund sorrowed nigh to death over his son, and drove away that queen, and soon after she died. He then married Hiordis the fair; but before long, doing battle against Lyngi, the son of Hunding, a chieftain who also had loved the fair Hiordis, - he got his death-wound : For lo, through the hedge of the warshafts 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, and 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: On the foemen, on the death-heap his deeds had piled that day. To Hiordis, after Sigmund's death, was born Sigurd, like whom was never man for comeliness and valor and great-heartedness and might. He was the greatest of the Volsungs. His fosterfather was Regin, the son of Rodmar, a blacksmith, who taught him the lore of runes and many tongues; and, by means of a story of ancient wrongs, incited him to the destruction of the dragon Fafnir. For Regin told that the gods, Odin, Loki, and Hoenir, wandering near his father Rodmar's house, Loki slew one of Rodmar's sons, Otter. Whereupon Rodmar demanded that the gods should fill the Otter-skin with gold, and cover it with gold. Now, Loki, being sent to procure the gold, caught Andvari the dwarf, and from him procured by force a hoard of the precious metal, and with it a magic ring, whose touch bred gold. But Andvari cursed the ring and the gold and all that might possess either. The gods, forthwith, filled Otter with the dwarf's gold, and surrendered both gold and ring to Rodmar. Immediately the curse began to work. Fafnir, brother of Regin and Otter, slew Rodmar and seized the treasure, and assuming a dragon's form, brooded upon the hoard. With this tale Regin egged on Sigurd to the undoing of Fafnir. He welded him, too, a resistless sword out of the shards of Sigmund's sword, Gram (the wrath). Then Sigurd swore that he would slay the dragon. But first, riding on his horse, Greyfell, of the blood of Odin's Sleipnir, he avenged upon the sons of Hunding the death of his father. This done, Sigurd rode to Glistenheath and slew Fafnir, the dragon, and eating of his heart, learned the language of the birds; and at their advice he slew Regin also, who plotted against him. So, setting the ring of Andvari on his finger, and bearing the gold before him on his horse, Greyfell, Sigurd comes to the Hill of Hindfell. And sitteth awhile on Greyfell on the marvellous thing to gaze : And naught 'twixt earth and heaven save a world of flickering flame, But the white wall wavers before him and the flame-flood rusheth apart, |