The Beginning of the Story
While the 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 exploits of the Volsung family,
and especially of their chief representative, Sigurd, the favourite
hero of the North.
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. In England, William Morris has given them the form which
they will probably retain in our literature, and it is from his great
epic poem, by the courteous permission of his trustees, and of his
publishers, Messrs. Longmans, Green and Co., that almost all the
quotations in this section are taken in preference to extracts from
the Edda.
Sigi
The story of the Volsungs begins with Sigi, a son of Odin, a powerful
man, and generally respected, until he killed a man from motives
of jealousy, the latter having slain more game when they were out
hunting together. In consequence of this crime, Sigi was driven from
his own land and declared an outlaw. But it seems that he had not
entirely forfeited Odin's favour, for the god now provided him with
a well-equipped vessel, together with a number of brave followers,
and promised that victory should ever attend him.
Thus aided by Odin, the raids of Sigi became a terror to his foes,
and in the end he won the glorious empire of the Huns and for many
years reigned as a powerful monarch. But in extreme old age his
fortune changed, Odin forsook him, his wife's kindred fell upon him,
and he was slain in a treacherous encounter.
Rerir
His death was soon avenged, however, for Rerir, his son, returning
from an expedition upon which he had been absent from the land at the
time, put the murderers to death as his first act upon mounting the
throne. The rule of Rerir was marked by every sign of prosperity, but
his 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. She accordingly despatched
her swift messenger Gna, or Liod, with a miraculous apple, which she
dropped into his lap as he was sitting alone on the hillside. Glancing
upward, Rerir recognised the emissary of the goddess, and joyfully
hastened home to partake of the apple with his wife. The child who
in due time was born under these favourable auspices was a handsome
little lad. His parents called him Volsung, and while he was still
a mere infant they both died, and the child became ruler of the land.
Volsung
Years passed and Volsung's wealth and power ever increased. He was the
boldest leader, and rallied many brave warriors around him. Full oft
did they drink his mead underneath the Branstock, a mighty oak, which,
rising in the middle of his hall, 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 dear
With the glory of the summer and the garland of the year."
Ten stalwart sons were born to Volsung, and one daughter, Signy,
came to brighten his home. So lovely was this maiden that when she
reached marriageable age many suitors asked for her hand, among whom
was Siggeir, King of the Goths, who finally obtained Volsung's consent,
although Signy had never seen him.
The Wedding of Signy
When the wedding-day came, and the bride beheld her destined husband
she shrank in dismay, for his puny form and lowering glances contrasted
sadly with her brothers' sturdy frames and open faces. But it was
too late to withdraw--the family honour was at stake--and Signy so
successfully concealed her dislike that none save her twin brother
Sigmund suspected with what reluctance she became Siggeir's wife.
The Sword in the Branstock
While the wedding feast was in progress, and when the merry-making was
at its height, the entrance to the hall was suddenly darkened by the
tall form of a one-eyed man, closely enveloped in a mantle of cloudy
blue. Without vouchsafing word or glance to any in the assembly, the
stranger strode to the Branstock and thrust a glittering sword up to
the hilt in its great bole. Then, turning slowly round, he faced the
awe-struck and silent assembly, and declared that the weapon would be
for the warrior who could pull it out of its oaken sheath, and that
it would assure him victory in every battle. The words ended, he then
passed out as he had entered, and disappeared, leaving a conviction in
the minds of all 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 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 first to essay the feat, he invited Siggeir to make the
first attempt to draw the divine weapon out of the tree-trunk. The
bridegroom anxiously tugged and strained, but the sword remained
firmly embedded in the oak and he resumed his seat, with an air of
chagrin. Then Volsung tried, with the same result. 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.
Sigmund
The nine eldest sons were equally unsuccessful; but when Sigmund,
the tenth and youngest, laid his firm young hand upon the hilt, the
sword yielded easily to his touch, and he triumphantly drew it out
as though it had merely been sheathed in its scabbard.
"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 nought;
When, lo, from floor to rafter went up a shattering shout,
For aloft in the hand of Sigmund the naked blade shone 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."
Nearly all present were gratified at the success of the young prince;
but Siggeir's heart was filled with envy, and he coveted possession of
the weapon. He offered to purchase it from his young brother-in-law,
but Sigmund refused to part with it at any price, declaring that it
was clear that the weapon had been intended for him to wear. This
refusal so offended Siggeir that he secretly resolved to exterminate
the proud Volsungs, and to secure the divine sword at the same time
that he indulged his hatred towards his new kinsmen.
Concealing his chagrin, however, he turned to Volsung and cordially
invited him to visit his court a month later, together with his sons
and kinsmen. The invitation 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 withdraw his plighted word and so exhibit fear.
Siggeir's Treachery
A few weeks after the return of the bridal couple, therefore, Volsung's
well-manned vessels arrived within sight of Siggeir's shores. Signy
had been keeping anxious watch, and when she perceived them she
hastened down to the beach to implore her kinsmen not to land,
warning them that her husband had treacherously planned an ambush,
whence they could not 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.
"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 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.'"
It befell as Signy had said, for on their way to the palace the
brave little troop fell into Siggeir's ambush, and, although they
fought with heroic courage, they were so borne down by the superior
number of their foes that Volsung was slain and all his sons were
made captive. The young men were led bound into the presence of the
cowardly Siggeir, who had taken no part in the fight, and Sigmund
was forced to relinquish his precious sword, after which he and his
brothers were condemned to death.
Signy, hearing the cruel sentence, vainly interceded for her brothers:
all she could obtain by her prayers and entreaties was that they should
be chained to a fallen oak in the forest, to perish of hunger and
thirst if the wild beasts should spare them. Then, lest she should
visit and succour her brothers, Siggeir confined his wife in the
palace, where she was closely guarded night and day.
Every morning early 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. At last,
when none but Sigmund remained alive, Signy thought of a plan, and
she prevailed on one of her servants to carry some honey into the
forest and smear it over her brother's face and mouth.
When the wild beast came that night, attracted by the smell of the
honey, it licked Sigmund's face, and even thrust its tongue into
his mouth. Clinching his teeth upon it, Sigmund, weak and wounded
as he was, held on to the animal, and in its frantic struggles his
bonds gave way, and he succeeded in slaying the prowling beast who
had devoured his brothers. Then he vanished into the forest, where
he remained concealed until the king's messenger had come as usual,
and until Signy, released from captivity, came speeding to the forest
to weep over her kinsmen's remains.
Seeing her intense grief, and knowing that she had not participated
in Siggeir's cruelty, Sigmund stole out of his place of concealment
and comforted her as best he could. Together they then buried the
whitening bones, and Sigmund registered a solemn oath to avenge
his family's wrongs. This vow was fully approved by Signy, who,
however, bade her brother bide a favourable time, promising to send
him aid. Then the brother and sister sadly parted, she to return to
her distasteful palace home, and he to a remote part of the forest,
where he built a tiny hut and plied the craft of a smith.
"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
Siggeir now took possession of the Volsung kingdom, and during the next
few years he proudly watched the growth of his eldest son, whom Signy
secretly sent to her brother when he was ten years of age, that Sigmund
might train up the child to help him to obtain vengeance if he should
prove worthy. Sigmund reluctantly accepted the charge; but as soon
as he had tested the boy he found him deficient in physical courage,
so he either sent him back to his mother, or, as some versions relate,
slew him.
Some time after this Signy's second son was sent into the forest
for the same purpose, but Sigmund found him equally lacking in
courage. Evidently none but a pure-blooded Volsung would avail for
the grim work of revenge, and Signy, realising this, resolved to
commit a crime.
"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?"
Her resolution taken, she summoned a beautiful young witch, and
exchanging forms with her, she sought the depths of the dark forest
and took shelter in Sigmund's hut. The Volsung did not penetrate his
sister's disguise. He deemed her nought but the gypsy she seemed,
and being soon won by her coquetry, he made her his wife. Three days
later she disappeared from the hut, and, returning to the palace,
she resumed her own form, and when she next gave birth to a son,
she rejoiced to see in his bold glance and strong frame the promise
of a true Volsung hero.
Sinfiotli
When Sinfiotli, as the child was called, was ten years of age, she
herself made a preliminary test of his courage by sewing his garment
to his skin, and then suddenly snatching it off, and as the brave boy
did not so much as wince, but laughed aloud, she confidently sent him
to the forest hut. Sigmund speedily prepared his usual test, and ere
leaving the hut one day he bade Sinfiotli take meal from a certain
sack, and knead it and bake some bread. On returning home, Sigmund
asked whether his orders had been carried out. The lad replied by
showing the bread, and when closely questioned he artlessly 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 boy, for whom he felt
a strange affection, had successfully stood the test which had daunted
his brothers, Sigmund bade him refrain from eating of the loaf, for
although he was proof against the bite of a reptile, he could not,
like his mentor, taste poison unharmed.
"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 now began patiently to teach Sinfiotli all that a warrior
of the North should know, and the two soon became inseparable
companions. One day while ranging the forest together they came
to a hut, where they found two men sound asleep. Near by hung two
wolf-skins, which suggested immediately that the strangers were
werewolves, whom a cruel spell prevented from bearing their natural
form save for a short space at a time. Prompted by curiosity, Sigmund
and Sinfiotli donned the wolf-skins, and they were soon, in the guise
of wolves, rushing through the forest, slaying and devouring all that
came in their way.
Such were their wolfish passions that soon they attacked each other,
and after a fierce struggle Sinfiotli, the younger and weaker, fell
dead. This catastrophe brought Sigmund to his senses, and he hung
over his murdered companion in despair. While thus engaged he saw two
weasels come out of the forest and attack each other fiercely until
one lay dead. The victor then sprang into the thicket, to return with
a leaf, which it laid upon its companion's breast. Then was seen a
marvellous thing, for at the touch 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 at once restored
to life.
In dire fear lest they might work each other further mischief, Sigmund
and Sinfiotli now crept home and patiently waited until the time of
their release should come. To their great relief the skins dropped
off on the ninth night, and they hastily flung them into the fire,
where they were entirely consumed, and the spell was broken for ever.
Sigmund and Sinfiotli taken by Siggeir
Sigmund now 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 aid him in his revenge. At
nightfall, therefore, he accompanied Sigmund to the king's hall, and
they entered unseen, concealing themselves in the cellar, behind the
huge vats of beer. Here they were discovered by Signy's two youngest
children, who, while playing with golden rings, which rolled into
the cellar, came suddenly upon the men in ambush.
They loudly proclaimed their discovery to their father and his guests,
but, before Siggeir and his men could take up arms, Signy took both
children, 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 now closing in upon them.
In spite of all efforts Sigmund and his brave young companion soon
fell into the hands of the Goths, whereupon Siggeir sentenced them to
be buried alive in the same mound, with a stone partition between them
so that they could neither see nor touch each other. The prisoners were
accordingly confined in their living grave, and their foes were about
to place the last stones on the roof, when Signy drew near, bearing a
bundle of straw, which she was allowed to throw at Sinfiotli's feet,
for the Goths fancied that it contained only a few provisions which
would prolong his agony without helping him to escape.
When all was still, Sinfiotli undid the sheaf, and great was his
joy when he found instead of bread the sword which Odin had given to
Sigmund. Knowing that nothing could dull or break the keen edge of
this fine weapon, Sinfiotli thrust it through the stone partition,
and, aided by Sigmund, he succeeded in cutting an opening, and in
the end both effected their 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 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
As soon as they were free, Sigmund and Sinfiotli returned to the king's
hall, and piling combustible materials around it, they set fire to
the mass. Then stationing themselves on either side of the entrance,
they prevented all but the women from passing through. They loudly
adjured Signy to escape ere it was too late, but she did not desire
to live, and so coming to the entrance for a last embrace she found
opportunity to whisper the secret of Sinfiotli's birth, after which
she sprang back into the flames and perished with the rest.
"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 for the slaughter of the Volsungs having
thus been carried out, Sigmund, feeling that nothing now detained
him in the land of the Goths, set sail with Sinfiotli and returned to
Hunaland, where he was warmly welcomed to the seat of power under the
shade of his ancestral tree, the mighty Branstock. When his authority
was fully established, Sigmund married Borghild, a beautiful princess,
who bore him two sons, Hamond and Helgi. The latter was visited by
the Norns as he lay in his cradle, and they promised him 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 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."
Northern kings generally entrusted their sons' upbringing to a
stranger, for they thought that so they would be treated with less
indulgence than at home. Accordingly Helgi was fostered by Hagal,
and under his care the young prince became so fearless that at the
age of fifteen he ventured alone into the hall of Hunding, with whose
race his family was at feud. Passing through the hall unmolested and
unrecognised, he left an insolent message, which so angered Hunding
that he immediately set out in pursuit of the bold young prince,
whom he followed to the dwelling of Hagal. Helgi would then have been
secured but that meanwhile he had disguised himself as a servant-maid,
and was busy grinding corn as if this were his wonted occupation. The
invaders marvelled somewhat at the maid's tall stature and brawny
arms, nevertheless they departed without suspecting that they had
been so near the hero whom they sought.
Having thus cleverly escaped, Helgi joined Sinfiotli, and collecting an
army, the two young men marched boldly against the Hundings, with whom
they fought a great battle, over which the Valkyrs hovered, waiting
to convey the slain to Valhalla. Gudrun, one of the battle-maidens,
was so struck 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 not
to endeavour to avenge his kinsmen's death. This promise was not kept,
however, and Dag, having obtained possession of Odin's spear Gungnir,
treacherously slew Helgi with it. Gudrun, who in the meantime had
fulfilled her promise to become his wife, wept many tears at his death,
and laid a solemn curse upon his murderer; then, hearing from one of
her maids that her slain husband kept calling for her from the depths
of the tomb, she fearlessly entered the mound at night and tenderly
inquired why he called and why his wounds continued to bleed after
death. Helgi answered that 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 bloody
On the prince's breast,
Wet, cold, and piercing,
With sorrow big."
Sæmund's Edda (Thorpe's tr.).
To appease the spirit of her beloved husband, Gudrun from that time
ceased to weep, but they did not long remain separated; for soon after
the spirit of Helgi had ridden over Bifröst and entered Valhalla,
to become leader of the Einheriar, he was joined by Gudrun who, as a
Valkyr once more, resumed her loving tendance of him. When at Odin's
command she left his side for scenes of human strife, it was to seek
new recruits for the army which her lord was to lead into battle when
Ragnarok, the twilight of the gods, should come.
The Death of Sinfiotli
Sinfiotli, Sigmund's eldest son, also met an early death; for, having
slain in a quarrel the brother of Borghild, she determined to poison
him. Twice Sinfiotli detected the attempt and told his father that
there was poison in his cup. Twice Sigmund, whom no venom could injure,
drained the bowl; and when Borghild made a third attempt, he bade
Sinfiotli let the wine flow through his beard. Mistaking the meaning
of his father's words, Sinfiotli forthwith drained the cup, and fell
lifeless to the ground, for the poison was of the most deadly kind.
"He drank as he spake the word, 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 Baldur 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 nought
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 a skiff which an old one-eyed boatman
brought at his call. He would fain have stepped aboard also, but ere
he could do so the boatman pushed off and the frail craft was soon
lost to sight. The bereaved father then slowly wended his way home,
taking comfort from the thought that Odin himself had come to claim
the young hero and had rowed away with him "out into the west."
Hiordis
Sigmund deposed Borghild as his wife and queen in punishment for
this crime, and when he was very old he sued for the hand of Hiordis,
a fair young princess, daughter of Eglimi, King of the Islands. This
young maiden had many suitors, among others King Lygni of Hunding's
race, but so great was Sigmund's fame that she gladly accepted him
and became his wife. Lygni, the discarded suitor, was so angry at
this decision, that he immediately collected a great army and marched
against his successful rival, who, though overpowered by superior
numbers, fought with the courage of despair.
From the depths of a thicket which commanded the field of battle,
Hiordis and her maid anxiously watched the progress of the strife. They
saw Sigmund pile the dead around him, for none could stand against
him, until at last a tall, one-eyed warrior suddenly appeared, and
the press of battle gave way before the terror of his presence.
Without a moment's pause the new champion aimed a fierce blow
at Sigmund, which the old hero parried with his sword. The shock
shattered the matchless blade, and although the strange assailant
vanished as he had come, Sigmund was left defenceless and was soon
wounded unto death by his foes.
"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."
As the battle was now won, and the Volsung family all slain, Lygni
hastened from the battlefield to take possession of the kingdom and
force the fair Hiordis to become his wife. As soon as he had gone,
however, the beautiful young queen crept from her hiding-place in
the thicket, and sought the spot where Sigmund lay all but dead. She
caught the stricken hero to her breast in a last passionate embrace,
and then listened tearfully while he bade her gather the fragments of
his sword and carefully treasure them for their son whom he foretold
was soon to be born, and who was destined to avenge his father's
death and to be far greater than he.
"'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 handmaiden
suddenly warned her of the approach of a band of vikings. Retreating
into the thicket once more, the two women exchanged garments, after
which Hiordis bade the maid walk first and personate the queen, and
they went thus to meet the viking Elf (Helfrat or Helferich). Elf
received the women graciously, and their story of the battle so
excited his admiration for Sigmund that he caused the remains of the
slain hero to be reverentially removed to a suitable spot, where they
were interred with all due ceremony. He then offered the queen and
her maid a safe asylum in his hall, and they gladly accompanied him
over the seas.
As he had doubted their relative positions from the first, Elf took
the first opportunity after arriving in his kingdom to ask a seemingly
idle question in order to ascertain the truth. He asked the pretended
queen 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,
and she replied that, as she was in the habit of drinking milk ere
she fed the cows, she always awoke thirsty. When the same question
was put to the real Hiordis, she answered, with as little reflection,
that she knew it was morning because at that hour the golden ring
which her father had given her grew cold on her hand.
The Birth of Sigurd
The suspicions of Elf having thus been confirmed, he offered marriage
to the pretended handmaiden, Hiordis, promising to cherish her
infant son, a promise which he nobly kept. When the child was born
Elf himself sprinkled him with water--a ceremony which our pagan
ancestors scrupulously observed--and bestowed upon him the name of
Sigurd. As he grew up he was treated as the king's own son, and his
education was entrusted to Regin, the wisest of men, who knew all
things, his own fate not even excepted, for it had been revealed to
him that he would fall by the hand of a youth.
"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 Sigurd grew daily in wisdom until few could surpass
him. He mastered the smith's craft, and the art of carving all manner
of runes; he learned languages, music, and eloquence; and, last but
not least, he became a doughty warrior whom none could subdue. When he
had reached manhood Regin prompted him to ask the king for a war-horse,
a request which was immediately granted, and Gripir, the stud-keeper,
was bidden to allow him to choose from the royal stables the steed
which he most fancied.
On his way to the meadow where the horses were at pasture, Sigurd met
a one-eyed stranger, clad in grey and blue, who accosted the young
man and bade him drive the horses into the river and select the one
which could breast the tide with least difficulty.
Sigurd received the advice gladly, and upon reaching the meadow he
drove the horses into the stream which flowed on one side. One of the
number, after crossing, raced round the opposite meadow; and, plunging
again into the river, returned to his former pasture without showing
any signs of fatigue. Sigurd therefore did not hesitate to select this
horse, and he gave him the name of Grane or Greyfell. The steed was
a descendant of Odin's eight-footed horse Sleipnir, and besides being
unusually strong and indefatigable, was as fearless as his master.
One winter day while Regin and his pupil were sitting by the fire,
the old man struck his harp, and, after the manner of the Northern
scalds, sang or recited in the following tale, 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 arm; Otter,
the second, with snare and net, and the power of changing his form
at will; and Regin, the youngest, with all wisdom and deftness of
hand. To please the avaricious Hreidmar, this youngest son fashioned
for him a house lined with glittering gold and flashing gems, and
this was guarded by Fafnir, whose fierce glances and Ægis helmet none
dared encounter.
Now it came to pass that Odin, Hoenir, and Loki once came in human
guise, upon one of their wonted expeditions to test the hearts of men,
unto 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 labour vain,
And Hænir, 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."
As the gods came near to Hreidmar's dwelling, Loki perceived
an otter basking in the sun. This was none other than the dwarf
king's second son, Otter, who now succumbed to Loki's usual love of
destruction. Killing the unfortunate creature he flung its lifeless
body over his shoulders, thinking it would furnish a good dish when
meal time came.
Loki then hastened after his companions, and entering Hreidmar's
house with them, he flung his burden down upon the floor. The moment
the dwarf king's glance fell upon the seeming otter, he flew into
a towering rage, and ere they could offer effective resistance the
gods found themselves lying bound, and they heard Hreidmar declare
that never should they recover their liberty until they could satisfy
his thirst for gold by giving him of that precious substance enough
to cover the skin of the otter inside and out.
"'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 for ever, shall gather and give and rue.
--Lo, this is the doom of the wise, and no doom shall be spoken
anew.'"
As the otter-skin developed the property of stretching itself to a
fabulous size, no ordinary treasure could suffice to cover it, and the
plight of the gods, therefore, was a very bad one. The case, however,
became a little more hopeful when Hreidmar consented to liberate one
of their number. The emissary selected was Loki, who lost no time in
setting off to the waterfall where the dwarf Andvari dwelt, in order
that he might secure the treasure there amassed.
"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,
until, perceiving a salmon sporting in the foaming waters, it occurred
to him that the dwarf might have assumed this shape. Borrowing Ran's
net he soon caught the fish, and learned, as he had suspected, that it
was Andvari. Finding that there was nothing else for it, the dwarf now
reluctantly brought forth his mighty treasure and surrendered it all,
including the Helmet of Dread and a hauberk of gold, reserving only a
ring which was gifted with miraculous powers, and which, like a magnet,
attracted the precious ore. But the greedy Loki, catching sight of it,
wrenched it from off the dwarf's finger and departed laughing, while
his victim hurled angry curses after him, declaring that the ring would
ever prove its possessor's bane and would cause the death of many.
"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 house, Loki found the mighty treasure none
too great, for the skin became larger with every object placed upon it,
and he was forced to throw in the ring Andvaranaut (Andvari's loom),
which he had intended to retain, in order to secure the release of
himself and his companions. Andvari's curse of the gold soon began
to operate. Fafnir and Regin both coveted a share, while Hriedmar
gloated over his treasure night and day, and would not part with an
item of it. Fafnir the invincible, seeing at last that he could not
otherwise gratify his lust, slew his father, and seized the whole
of the treasure, then, when Regin came to claim a share he drove him
scornfully away and 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 civilised 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 turned suddenly to the attentive Sigurd,
saying he knew that the young man could slay the dragon if he wished,
and inquiring whether he were ready to aid him to avenge his wrongs.
"And he spake: 'Hast thou hearkened, Sigurd? Wilt thou help a
man that is old
To avenge him for his father? Wilt thou win that treasure of Gold
And be more than the Kings of the earth? Wilt thou rid the earth
of a wrong
And heal the woe and the sorrow my heart hath endured o'er long?'"
Sigurd's Sword
Sigurd immediately assented, on the condition, however, that the curse
should be assumed by Regin, who, also, in order to fitly equip the
young man for the coming fight, should forge him a sword, which no
blow could break. Twice Regin fashioned a marvellous weapon, but twice
Sigurd broke it to pieces on the anvil. Then Sigurd bethought him of
the broken fragments of Sigmund's weapon which were treasured by his
mother, and going to Hiordis he begged these from her; and either
he or Regin forged from them a blade so strong that it divided the
great anvil in two without being dinted, and whose temper was such
that it neatly severed some wool floating gently upon the stream.
Sigurd now went upon a farewell visit to Gripir, who, knowing the
future, foretold every event in his coming career; after which he
took leave of his mother, and accompanied by Regin set sail for the
land of his fathers, vowing to slay the dragon when he had fulfilled
his first duty, which was to avenge the death of Sigmund.
"'First wilt thou, prince,
Avenge thy father,
And for the wrongs of Eglymi
Wilt retaliate.
Thou wilt the cruel,
The sons of Hunding,
Boldly lay low:
Thou wilt have victory.'"
Lay of Sigurd Fafnicide (Thorpe's tr.).
On his way to the land of the Volsungs a most marvellous sight was
seen, for there came a man walking on the waters. Sigurd straightway
took him on board his dragon ship, and the stranger, who gave his name
as Feng or Fiöllnir, promised favourable winds. Also he taught Sigurd
how to distinguish auspicious omens. In reality the old man was Odin
or Hnikar, the wave-stiller, but Sigurd did not suspect his identity.
The Fight with the Dragon
Sigurd was entirely successful in his descent upon Lygni, whom he
slew, together with many of his followers. He then departed from his
reconquered kingdom and returned with Regin to slay Fafnir. Together
they rode through the mountains, which ever rose higher and higher
before them, until they came to a great tract of desert which Regin
said was the haunt of Fafnir. Sigurd now rode on alone until he met
a one-eyed stranger, who bade him dig trenches in the middle of the
track along which the dragon daily dragged his slimy length to the
river to quench his thirst, and to lie in wait in one of these until
the monster passed over him, when he could thrust his sword straight
into its heart.
Sigurd gratefully followed this counsel, and was rewarded with complete
success, for as the monster's loathsome folds rolled overhead, he
thrust his sword upward into its left breast, and as he sprang out
of the trench the dragon lay gasping in the throes of death.
"Then all sank into silence, and the son of Sigmund stood
On the torn and furrowed desert by the pool of Fafnir's blood,
And the Serpent lay before him, dead, chilly, dull, and grey;
And over the Glittering Heath fair shone the sun and the day,
And a light wind followed the sun and breathed o'er the fateful
place,
As fresh as it furrows the sea-plain, or bows the acres' face."
Regin had prudently remained at a distance until all danger was past,
but seeing that his foe was slain, he now came up. He was fearful
lest the young hero should claim a reward, so he began to accuse him
of having murdered his kin, but, with feigned magnanimity, he declared
that instead of requiring life for life, in accordance with the custom
of the North, he would consider it sufficient atonement if Sigurd
would cut out the monster's heart and roast it for him on a spit.
"Then Regin spake to Sigurd: 'Of this slaying wilt thou be free?
Then gather thou fire together and roast the heart for me,
That I may eat it and live, and be thy master and more;
For therein was might and wisdom, and the grudged and hoarded lore:
--Or, else depart on thy ways afraid from the Glittering Heath.'"
Sigurd was aware that a true warrior never refused satisfaction of
some kind to the kindred of the slain, so he agreed to the seemingly
small proposal, and immediately prepared to act as cook, while Regin
dozed until the meat was ready. After an interval Sigurd touched the
roast to ascertain whether it were tender, but burning his fingers
severely, he instinctively thrust them into his mouth to allay the
smart. No sooner had Fafnir's blood thus touched his lips than he
discovered, to his utter surprise, that he could understand the
songs of the birds, many of which were already gathering round the
carrion. Listening attentively, he found that they were telling how
Regin meditated mischief against him, and how he ought to slay the
old man and take the gold, which was his by right of conquest, after
which he ought to partake of the heart and blood of the dragon. As
this coincided with his own wishes, he slew the evil old man with a
thrust of his sword and proceeded to eat and drink as the birds had
suggested, reserving a small portion of Fafnir's heart for future
consumption. He then wandered off in search of the mighty hoard,
and, after donning the Helmet of Dread, the hauberk of gold, and the
ring Andvaranaut, and loading Greyfell with as much gold as he could
carry, he sprang to the saddle and sat listening eagerly to the birds'
songs to know what his future course should be.
The Sleeping Warrior Maiden
Soon he heard of a warrior maiden fast asleep on a mountain and
surrounded by a glittering barrier of flames, through which only the
bravest of men could pass to arouse her.
"On the fell I know
A warrior maid to sleep;
Over her waves
The linden's bane:
Ygg whilom stuck
A sleep-thorn in the robe
Of the maid who
Would heroes choose."
Lay of Fafnir (Thorpe's tr.).
This adventure was the very thing for Sigurd, and he set off at
once. The way lay through trackless regions, and the journey was long
and cheerless, but at length he came to the Hindarfiall in Frankland,
a tall mountain whose cloud-wreathed summit seemed circled by fiery
flames.
"Long Sigurd rideth the waste, when, lo, on a morning of day,
From out of the tangled crag-walls, amidst the cloudland grey,
Comes up a mighty mountain, and it is as though there burns
A torch amidst of its cloud-wreath; so thither Sigurd turns,
For he deems indeed from its topmost to look on the best of
the earth;
And Greyfell neigheth beneath him, and his heart is full of mirth."
Sigurd rode up the mountain side, and the light grew more and more
vivid as he proceeded, until when he had neared the summit a barrier
of lurid flames stood before him. The fire burned with a roar which
would have daunted the heart of any other, but Sigurd remembered
the words of the birds, and without a moment's hesitation he plunged
bravely into its very midst.
"Now Sigurd turns in his saddle, and the hilt of the Wrath
he shifts,
And draws a girth the tighter; then the gathered reins he lifts,
And crieth aloud to Greyfell, and rides at the wildfire's heart;
But the white wall wavers before him and the flame-flood rusheth
apart,
And high o'er his head it riseth, and wide and wild its roar
As it beareth the mighty tidings to the very heavenly floor:
But he rideth through its roaring as the warrior rides the rye,
When it bows with the wind of the summer and the hid spears
draw anigh;
The white flame licks his raiment and sweeps through Greyfell's
mane,
And bathes both hands of Sigurd and the hilt of Fafnir's bane,
And winds about his war-helm and mingles with his hair,
But nought his raiment dusketh or dims his glittering gear;
Then it fails and fades and darkens till all seems left behind,
And dawn and the blaze is swallowed in mid-mirk stark and blind."
The threatening flames having now died away, Sigurd pursued his
journey over a broad tract of white ashes, directing his course to
a great castle, with shield-hung walls. The great gates stood wide
open, and Sigurd rode through them unchallenged by warders or men at
arms. Proceeding cautiously, for he feared some snare, he at last came
to the centre of the courtyard, where he saw a recumbent form cased
in armour. Sigurd dismounted from his steed and eagerly removed the
helmet, when he started with surprise to behold, instead of a warrior,
the face of a most beautiful maiden.
All his efforts to awaken the sleeper were vain, however, until he
had removed her armour, and she lay before him in pure-white linen
garments, her long hair falling in golden waves around her. Then as the
last fastening of her armour gave way, she opened wide her beautiful
eyes, which met the rising sun, and first greeting with rapture the
glorious spectacle, she turned to her deliverer, and the young hero
and the maiden loved each other at first sight.
"Then she turned and gazed on Sigurd, and her eyes met the
Volsung's eyes.
And mighty and measureless now did the tide of his love arise,
For their longing had met and mingled, and he knew of her heart
that she loved,
And she spake unto nothing but him and her lips with the
speech-flood moved."
The maiden now proceeded to tell Sigurd her story. Her name was
Brunhild, and according to some authorities she was the daughter of
an earthly king whom Odin had raised to the rank of a Valkyr. She
had served him faithfully for a long while, but once had ventured to
set her own wishes above his, giving to a younger and therefore more
attractive opponent the victory which Odin had commanded for another.
In punishment for this act of disobedience, she had been deprived
of her office and banished to earth, where Allfather decreed she
should wed like any other member of her sex. This sentence filled
Brunhild's heart with dismay, for she greatly feared lest it might be
her fate to mate with a coward, whom she would despise. To quiet these
apprehensions, Odin took her to Hindarfiall or Hindfell, and touching
her with the Thorn of Sleep, that she might await in unchanged youth
and beauty the coming of her destined husband, he surrounded her with
a barrier of flame which none but a hero would venture through.
From the top of Hindarfiall, Brunhild now pointed out to Sigurd her
former home, at Lymdale or Hunaland, telling him he would find her
there whenever he chose to come and claim her as his wife; and then,
while they stood on the lonely mountain top together, Sigurd placed
the ring Andvaranaut upon her finger, in token of betrothal, swearing
to love her alone as long as life endured.
"From his hand then draweth Sigurd Andvari's ancient Gold;
There is nought but the sky above them as the ring together
they hold,
The shapen ancient token, that hath no change nor end,
No change, and no beginning, no flaw for God to mend:
Then Sigurd cried: 'O Brynhild, now hearken while I swear,
That the sun shall die in the heavens and the day no more be fair,
If I seek not love in Lymdale and the house that fostered thee,
And the land where thou awakedst 'twixt the woodland and the sea!'
And she cried: 'O Sigurd, Sigurd, now hearken while I swear
That the day shall die for ever and the sun to blackness wear,
Ere I forget thee, Sigurd, as I lie 'twixt wood and sea
In the little land of Lymdale and the house that fostered me!'"
The Fostering of Aslaug
According to some authorities, the lovers parted after thus plighting
their troth; but others say that Sigurd soon sought out and wedded
Brunhild, with whom he lived for a while in perfect happiness until
forced to leave her and his infant daughter Aslaug. This child, left
orphaned at three years of age, was fostered by Brunhild's father, who,
driven away from home, concealed her in a cunningly fashioned harp,
until reaching a distant land he was murdered by a peasant couple for
the sake of the gold they supposed it to contain. Their surprise and
disappointment were great indeed when, on breaking the instrument open,
they found a beautiful little girl, whom they deemed mute, as she would
not speak a word. Time passed, and the child, whom they had trained
as a drudge, grew to be a beautiful maiden, and she won the affection
of a passing viking, Ragnar Lodbrog, King of the Danes, to whom she
told her tale. The viking sailed away to other lands to fulfil the
purposes of his voyage, but when a year had passed, during which time
he won much glory, he came back and carried away Aslaug as his bride.
"She heard a voice she deemed well known,
Long waited through dull hours bygone
And round her mighty arms were cast:
But when her trembling red lips passed
From out the heaven of that dear kiss,
And eyes met eyes, she saw in his
Fresh pride, fresh hope, fresh love, and saw
The long sweet days still onward draw,
Themselves still going hand in hand,
As now they went adown the strand."
The Fostering of Aslaug (William Morris).
In continuation of the story of Sigurd and Brunhild, however, we are
told that the young man went to seek adventures in the great world,
where he had vowed, as a true hero, to right the wrong and defend
the fatherless and oppressed.
The Niblungs
In the course of his wanderings, Sigurd came to the land of the
Niblungs, the land of continual mist, where Giuki and Grimhild were
king and queen. The latter was specially to be feared, as she was well
versed in magic lore, and could weave spells and concoct marvellous
potions which had power to steep the drinker in temporary forgetfulness
and compel him to yield to her will.
The king and queen had three sons, Gunnar, Högni, and Guttorm,
who were brave young men, and one daughter, Gudrun, the gentlest
as well as the most beautiful of maidens. All welcomed Sigurd most
warmly, and Giuki invited him to tarry awhile. The invitation was
very agreeable after his long wanderings, and Sigurd was glad to
stay and share the pleasures and occupations of the Niblungs. He
accompanied them to war, and so distinguished himself by his valour,
that he won the admiration of Grimhild and she resolved to secure him
as her daughter's husband. One day, therefore, she brewed one of her
magic potions, and when he had partaken of it at the hand of Gudrun,
he utterly forgot Brunhild and his plighted troth, and all his love
was diverted unto the queen's daughter.
"But the heart was changed in Sigurd; as though it ne'er had been
His love of Brynhild perished as he gazed on the Niblung Queen:
Brynhild's beloved body was e'en as a wasted hearth,
No more for bale or blessing, for plenty or for dearth."
Although there was not wanting a vague fear that he had forgotten
some event in the past which should rule his conduct, Sigurd asked for
and obtained Gudrun's hand, and their wedding was celebrated amid the
rejoicings of the people, who loved the young hero very dearly. Sigurd
gave his bride some of Fafnir's heart to eat, and the moment she
had tasted it her nature was changed, and she began to grow cold and
silent to all except him. To further cement his alliance with the two
eldest Giukings (as the sons of Giuki were called) Sigurd entered the
"doom ring" with them, and the three young men cut a sod which was
placed upon a shield, beneath which they stood while they bared and
slightly cut their right arms, allowing their blood to mingle in the
fresh earth. Then, when they had sworn eternal friendship, the sod
was replaced.
But although Sigurd loved his wife and felt a true fraternal affection
for her brothers, he could not lose his haunting sense of oppression,
and was seldom seen to smile as radiantly as of old. Giuki had now
died, and his eldest son, Gunnar, ruled in his stead. As the young
king was unwedded, Grimhild, his mother, besought him to take a wife,
suggesting that none seemed more worthy to become Queen of the Niblungs
than Brunhild, who, it was reported, sat in a golden hall surrounded
by flames, whence she had declared she would issue only to marry the
warrior who would dare brave the fire for her sake.
Gunnar's Stratagem
Gunnar immediately prepared to seek this maiden, and strengthened
by one of his mother's magic potions, and encouraged by Sigurd, who
accompanied him, he felt confident of success. But when on reaching
the summit of the mountain he would have ridden into the fire, his
steed drew back affrighted and he could not induce him to advance a
step. Seeing that his companion's steed did not show signs of fear,
he asked him of Sigurd; but although Greyfell allowed Gunnar to mount,
he would not stir because his master was not on his back.
Now as Sigurd carried the Helmet of Dread, and Grimhild had given
Gunnar a magic potion in case it should be needed, it was possible
for the companions to exchange their forms and features, and seeing
that Gunnar could not penetrate the flaming wall Sigurd proposed to
assume the appearance of Gunnar and woo the bride for him. The king
was greatly disappointed, but as no alternative offered he dismounted,
and the necessary exchange was soon effected. Then Sigurd mounted
Greyfell in the semblance of his companion, and this time the steed
showed not the least hesitation, but leaped into the flames at the
first touch on his bridle, and soon brought his rider to the castle,
where, in the great hall, sat Brunhild. Neither recognised the other:
Sigurd because of the magic spell cast over him by Grimhild; Brunhild
because of the altered appearance of her lover.
The maiden shrank in disappointment from the dark-haired intruder,
for she had deemed it impossible for any but Sigurd to ride through
the flaming circle. But she advanced reluctantly to meet her visitor,
and when he declared that he had come to woo her, she permitted him
to take a husband's place at her side, for she was bound by solemn
injunction to accept as her spouse him who should thus seek her
through the flames.
Three days did Sigurd remain with Brunhild, and his bright sword lay
bared between him and his bride. This singular behaviour aroused the
curiosity of the maiden, wherefore Sigurd told her that the gods had
bidden him celebrate his wedding thus.
"There they went in one bed together; but the foster-brother laid
'Twixt him and the body of Brynhild his bright blue battle-blade;
And she looked and heeded it nothing; but, e'en as the dead
folk lie,
With folded hands she lay there, and let the night go by:
And as still lay that Image of Gunnar as the dead of life forlorn,
And hand on hand he folded as he waited for the morn.
So oft in the moonlit minster your fathers may ye see
By the side of the ancient mothers await the day to be."
When the fourth morning dawned, Sigurd drew the ring Andvaranaut from
Brunhild's hand, and, replacing it by another, he received her solemn
promise that in ten days' time she would appear at the Niblung court
to take up her duties as queen and faithful wife.
"'I thank thee, King, for thy goodwill, and thy pledge of love
I take,
Depart with my troth to thy people: but ere full ten days are o'er
I shall come to the Sons of the Niblungs, and then shall we part
no more
Till the day of the change of our life-days, when Odin and Freya
shall call.'"
The promise given, Sigurd again passed out of the palace, through the
ashes, and joined Gunnar, with whom, after he had reported the success
of his venture, he hastened to exchange forms once more. The warriors
then turned their steeds homeward, and only to Gudrun did Sigurd reveal
the secret of her brother's wooing, and he gave her the fatal ring,
little suspecting the many woes which it was destined to occasion.
The Coming of Brunhild
True to her promise, Brunhild appeared ten days later, and solemnly
blessing the house she was about to enter, she greeted Gunnar
kindly, and allowed him to conduct her to the great hall, where sat
Sigurd beside Gudrun. The Volsung looked up at that moment and as he
encountered Brunhild's reproachful eyes Grimhild's spell was broken and
the past came back in a flood of bitter recollection. It was too late,
however: both were in honour bound, he to Gudrun and she to Gunnar,
whom she passively followed to the high seat, to sit beside him as
the scalds entertained the royal couple with the ancient lays of
their land.
The days passed, and Brunhild remained apparently indifferent, but
her heart was hot with anger, and often did she steal out of her
husband's palace to the forest, where she could give vent to her
grief in solitude.
Meanwhile, Gunnar perceived the cold indifference of his wife to his
protestations of affection, and began to have jealous suspicions,
wondering whether Sigurd had honestly told the true story of the
wooing, and fearing lest he had taken advantage of his position to win
Brunhild's love. Sigurd alone continued the even tenor of his way,
striving against none but tyrants and oppressors, and cheering all
by his kindly words and smile.
The Quarrel of the Queens
On a day the queens went down together to the Rhine to bathe, and as
they were entering the water Gudrun claimed precedence by right of
her husband's courage. Brunhild refused to yield what she deemed her
right, and a quarrel ensued, in the course of which Gudrun accused
her sister-in-law of not having kept her faith, producing the ring
Andvaranaut in support of her charge. The sight of the fatal ring
in the hand of her rival crushed Brunhild, and she fled homeward,
and lay in speechless grief day after day, until all thought she must
die. In vain did Gunnar and the members of the royal family seek her
in turn and implore her to speak; she would not utter a word until
Sigurd came and inquired the cause of her unutterable grief. Then,
like a long-pent-up stream, her love and anger burst forth, and she
overwhelmed the hero with reproaches, until his heart so swelled
with grief for her sorrow that the tight bands of his strong armour
gave way.
"Out went Sigurd
From that interview
Into the hall of kings,
Writhing with anguish;
So that began to start
The ardent warrior's
Iron-woven sark
Off from his sides."
Sæmund's Edda (Thorpe's tr.).
Words had no power to mend that woeful situation, and Brunhild
refused to heed when Sigurd offered to repudiate Gudrun, saying,
as she dismissed him, that she would not be faithless to Gunnar. The
thought that two living men had called her wife was unendurable to
her pride, and the next time her husband sought her presence she
implored him to put Sigurd to death, thus increasing his jealousy
and suspicion. He refused to deal violently with Sigurd, however,
because of their oath of good fellowship, and so she turned to Högni
for aid. He, too, did not wish to violate his oath, but he induced
Guttorm, by means of much persuasion and one of Grimhild's potions,
to undertake the dastardly deed.
The Death of Sigurd
Accordingly, in the dead of night, Guttorm stole into Sigurd's chamber,
weapon in hand; but as he bent over the bed he saw Sigurd's bright
eyes fixed upon him, and fled precipitately. Later on he returned
and the scene was repeated; but towards morning, stealing in for
the third time, he found the hero asleep, and traitorously drove his
spear through his back.
Although wounded unto death, Sigurd raised himself in bed, and seizing
his renowned sword which hung beside him, he flung it with all his
remaining strength at the flying murderer, cutting him in two as
he reached the door. Then, with a last whispered farewell to the
terrified Gudrun, Sigurd sank back and breathed his last.
"'Mourn not, O Gudrun, this stroke is the last
of ill;
Fear leaveth the House of the Niblungs on this breaking of
the morn;
Mayst thou live, O woman beloved, unforsaken, unforlorn!'
'It is Brynhild's deed,' he murmured, 'and the woman that loves
me well;
Nought now is left to repent of, and the tale abides to tell.
I have done many deeds in my life-days; and all these, and my love,
they lie
In the hollow hand of Odin till the day of the world go by.
I have done and I may not undo, I have given and I take not again:
Art thou other than I, Allfather, wilt thou gather my glory
in vain?'"
Sigurd's infant son was slain at the same time, and poor Gudrun mourned
over her dead in silent, tearless grief; while Brunhild laughed aloud,
thereby incurring the wrath of Gunnar, who repented, too late, that
he had not taken measures to avert the dastardly crime.
The grief of the Niblungs found expression in the public funeral
celebration which was shortly held. A mighty pyre was erected, to
which were brought precious hangings, fresh flowers, and glittering
arms, as was the custom for the burial of a prince; and as these sad
preparations took shape, Gudrun was the object of tender solicitude
from the women, who, fearing lest her heart would break, tried to open
the flood-gate of her tears by recounting the bitterest sorrows they
had known, one telling of how she too had lost all she held dear. But
these attempts to make her weep were utterly vain, until at length
they laid her husband's head in her lap, bidding her kiss him as if
he were still alive; then her tears began to flow in torrents.
The reaction soon set in for Brunhild also; her resentment was all
forgotten when she saw the body of Sigurd laid on the pyre, arrayed
as if for battle in burnished armour, with the Helmet of Dread at his
head, and accompanied by his steed, which was to be burned with him,
together with several of his faithful servants who would not survive
his loss. She withdrew to her apartment, and after distributing her
possessions among her handmaidens, she donned her richest array,
and stabbed herself as she lay stretched upon her bed.
The tidings soon reached Gunnar, who came with all haste to his wife
and just in time to receive her dying injunction to lay her beside the
hero she loved, with the glittering, unsheathed sword between them,
as it had lain when he had wooed her by proxy. When she had breathed
her last, these wishes were faithfully executed, and her body was
burned with Sigurd's amid the lamentations of all the Niblungs.
In Richard Wagner's story of "The Ring" Brunhild's end is more
picturesque. Mounted on her steed, as when she led the battle-maidens
at the command of Odin, she rode into the flames which leaped to heaven
from the great funeral pyre, and passed for ever from the sight of men.
"They are gone--the lovely, the mighty, the hope of the ancient
Earth:
It shall labour and bear the burden as before that day of their
birth:
It shall groan in its blind abiding for the day that Sigurd
hath sped,
And the hour that Brynhild hath hastened, and the dawn that waketh
the dead:
It shall yearn, and be oft-times holpen, and forget their deeds
no more,
Till the new sun beams on Baldur and the happy sea-less shore."
The death scene of Sigurd (Siegfried) is far more powerful in the
Nibelungenlied. In the Teutonic version his treacherous assailant
lures him from a hunting party in the forest to quench his thirst at
a brook, where he thrusts him through the back with a spear. His body
was thence borne home by the hunters and laid at his wife's feet.
The Flight of Gudrun
Gudrun, still inconsolable, and loathing the kindred who had
treacherously robbed her of all joy in life, fled from her father's
house and took refuge with Elf, Sigurd's foster father, who, after the
death of Hiordis, had married Thora, the daughter of King Hakon. The
two women became great friends, and here Gudrun tarried several years,
employing herself in embroidering upon tapestry the great deeds of
Sigurd, and watching over her little daughter Swanhild, whose bright
eyes reminded her vividly of the husband whom she had lost.
Atli, King of the Huns
In the meantime, Atli, Brunhild's brother, who was now King of the
Huns, had sent to Gunnar to demand atonement for his sister's death;
and to satisfy his claims Gunnar had promised that when her years of
widowhood had been accomplished he would give him Gudrun's hand in
marriage. Time passed, and Atli clamoured for the fulfilment of his
promise, wherefore the Niblung brothers, with their mother Grimhild,
went to seek the long-absent princess, and by the aid of the magic
potion administered by Grimhild they succeeded in persuading Gudrun
to leave little Swanhild in Denmark and to become Atli's wife in the
land of the Huns.
Nevertheless, Gudrun secretly detested her husband, whose avaricious
tendencies were extremely repugnant to her; and even the birth of
two sons, Erp and Eitel, did not console her for the death of her
loved ones and the absence of Swanhild. Her thoughts were continually
of the past, and she often spoke of it, little suspecting that her
descriptions of the wealth of the Niblungs had excited Atli's greed,
and that he was secretly planning some pretext for seizing it.
Atli at last decided to send Knefrud or Wingi, one of his servants,
to invite the Niblung princes to visit his court, intending to slay
them when he should have them in his power; but Gudrun, fathoming this
design, sent a rune message to her brothers, together with the ring
Andvaranaut, around which she had twined a wolf's hair. On the way,
however, the messenger partly effaced the runes, thus changing their
meaning; and when he appeared before the Niblungs, Gunnar accepted
the invitation, in spite of Högni's and Grimhild's warnings, and an
ominous dream of Glaumvor, his second wife.
Burial of the Niblung Treasure
Before departing, however, Gunnar was prevailed upon to bury secretly
the great Niblung hoard in the Rhine, and he sank it in a deep hole
in the bed of the river, the position of which was known to the royal
brothers only, who took a solemn oath never to reveal it.
"Down then and whirling outward the ruddy Gold fell forth,
As a flame in the dim grey morning, flashed out a kingdom's worth;
Then the waters roared above it, the wan water and the foam
Flew up o'er the face of the rock-wall as the tinkling Gold
fell home,
Unheard, unseen for ever, a wonder and a tale,
Till the last of earthly singers from the sons of men shall fail."
The Treachery of Atli
In martial array the royal band then rode out of the city of the
Niblungs, which they were never again to see, and after many adventures
they entered the land of the Huns, and arrived at Atli's hall, where,
finding that they had been foully entrapped, they slew the traitor
Knefrud, and prepared to sell their lives as dearly as possible.
Gudrun hastened to meet them with tender embraces, and, seeing that
they must fight, she grasped a weapon and loyally aided them in the
terrible massacre which ensued. After the first onslaught, Gunnar kept
up the spirits of his followers by playing on his harp, which he laid
aside only when the assaults were renewed. Thrice the brave Niblungs
resisted the assault of the Huns, until all save Gunnar and Högni had
perished, and the king and his brother, wounded, faint, and weary,
fell into the hands of their foes, who cast them, securely bound,
into a dungeon to await death.
Atli had prudently abstained from taking any active part in the
fight, and he now had his brothers-in-law brought in turn before him,
promising them freedom if they would reveal the hiding-place of the
golden hoard; but they proudly kept silence, and it was only after
much torture that Gunnar spake, saying that he had sworn a solemn
oath never to reveal the secret as long as Högni lived. At the same
time he declared that he would believe his brother dead only when
his heart was brought to him on a platter.
"With a dreadful voice cried Gunnar: 'O fool, hast thou heard
it told
Who won the Treasure aforetime and the ruddy rings of the Gold?
It was Sigurd, child of the Volsungs, the best sprung forth from
the best:
He rode from the North and the mountains, and became my summer
guest,
My friend and my brother sworn: he rode the Wavering Fire,
And won me the Queen of Glory and accomplished my desire;
The praise of the world he was, the hope of the biders in wrong,
The help of the lowly people, the hammer of the strong:
Ah, oft in the world, henceforward, shall the tale be told of
the deed,
And I, e'en I, will tell it in the day of the Niblungs' Need:
For I sat night-long in my armour, and when light was wide o'er
the land
I slaughtered Sigurd my brother, and looked on the work of
mine hand.
And now, O mighty Atli, I have seen the Niblung's wreck,
And the feet of the faint-heart dastard have trodden Gunnar's neck;
And if all be little enough, and the Gods begrudge me rest,
Let me see the heart of Högni cut quick from his living breast,
And laid on the dish before me: and then shall I tell of the Gold,
And become thy servant, Atli, and my life at thy pleasure hold.'"
Urged by greed, Atli gave immediate orders that Högni's heart should
be brought; but his servants, fearing to lay hands on such a grim
warrior, slew the cowardly scullion Hialli. The trembling heart
of this poor wretch called forth contemptuous words from Gunnar,
who declared that such a timorous organ could never have belonged
to his fearless brother. Atli again issued angry commands, and this
time the unquivering heart of Högni was produced, whereupon Gunnar,
turning to the monarch, solemnly swore that since the secret now
rested with him alone it would never be revealed.
The Last of the Niblungs
Livid with anger, the king bade his servants throw Gunnar, with
hands bound, into a den of venomous snakes; but this did not daunt
the reckless Niblung, and, his harp having been flung after him
in derision, he calmly sat in the pit, harping with his toes, and
lulling to sleep all the reptiles save one only. It was said that
Atli's mother had taken the form of this snake, and that she it was
who now bit him in the side, and silenced his triumphant song for ever.
To celebrate his triumph, Atli now ordered a great feast, commanding
Gudrun to be present to wait upon him. At this banquet he ate and
drank heartily, little suspecting that his wife had slain both his
sons, and had served up their roasted hearts and their blood mixed
with wine in cups made of their skulls. After a time the king and his
guests became intoxicated, when Gudrun, according to one version of
the story, set fire to the palace, and as the drunken men were aroused,
too late to escape, she revealed what she had done, and first stabbing
her husband, she calmly perished in the flames with the Huns. Another
version relates, however, that she murdered Atli with Sigurd's sword,
and having placed his body on a ship, which she sent adrift, she cast
herself into the sea and was drowned.
"She spread out her arms as she spake it, and away from the earth
she leapt
And cut off her tide of returning: for the sea-waves over her
swept,
And their will is her will henceforward, and who knoweth the
deeps of the sea,
And the wealth of the bed of Gudrun, and the days that yet
shall be?"
According to a third and very different version, Gudrun was not
drowned, but was borne by the waves to the land where Jonakur was
king. There she became his wife, and the mother of three sons, Sörli,
Hamdir, and Erp. She recovered possession, moreover, of her beloved
daughter Swanhild, who, in the meantime, had grown into a beautiful
maiden of marriageable age.
Swanhild
Swanhild became affianced to Ermenrich, King of Gothland, who sent his
son, Randwer, and one of his servants, Sibich, to escort the bride to
his kingdom. Sibich was a traitor, and as part of a plan to compass the
death of the royal family that he might claim the kingdom, he accused
Randwer of having tried to win his young stepmother's affections. This
accusation so roused the anger of Ermenrich that he ordered his son to
be hanged, and Swanhild to be trampled to death under the feet of wild
horses. The beauty of this daughter of Sigurd and Gudrun was such,
however, that even the wild steeds could not be induced to harm her
until she had been hidden from their sight under a great blanket,
when they trod her to death under their cruel hoofs.
Upon learning the fate of her beloved daughter, Gudrun called her
three sons to her side, and girding them with armour and weapons
against which nothing but stone could prevail, she bade them depart
and avenge their murdered sister, after which she died of grief,
and was burned on a great pyre.
The three youths, Sörli, Hamdir, and Erp, proceeded to Ermenrich's
kingdom, but ere they met their foes, the two eldest, deeming Erp too
young to assist them, taunted him with his small size, and finally
slew him. Sörli and Hamdir then attacked Ermenrich, cut off his hands
and feet, and would have slain him but for a one-eyed stranger who
suddenly appeared and bade the bystanders throw stones at the young
men. His orders were immediately carried out, and Sörli and Hamdir
soon fell slain under the shower of stones, which, as we have seen,
alone had power to injure them.
"Ye have heard of Sigurd aforetime, how the foes of God he slew;
How forth from the darksome desert the Gold of Waters he drew;
How he wakened Love on the Mountain, and wakened Brynhild the
Bright,
And dwelt upon Earth for a season, and shone in all men's sight.
Ye have heard of the Cloudy People, and the dimming of the day,
And the latter world's confusion, and Sigurd gone away;
Now ye know of the Need of the Niblungs and the end of broken
troth,
All the death of kings and of kindreds and the Sorrow of Odin
the Goth."
Interpretation of the Saga
This story of the Volsungs is supposed by some authorities to be
a series of sun myths, in which Sigi, Rerir, Volsung, Sigmund, and
Sigurd in turn personify the glowing orb of day. They are all armed
with invincible swords, the sunbeams, and all travel through the world
fighting against their foes, the demons of cold and darkness. Sigurd,
like Balder, is beloved of all; he marries Brunhild, the dawn maiden,
whom he finds in the midst of flames, the flush of morn, and parts
from her only to find her again when his career is ended. His body is
burned on the funeral pyre, which, like Balder's, represents either
the setting sun or the last gleam of summer, of which he too is a
type. The slaying of Fafnir symbolises the destruction of the demon
of cold or darkness, who has stolen the golden hoard of summer or
the yellow rays of the sun.
According to other authorities, this Saga is based upon history. Atli
is the cruel Attila, the "Scourge of God," while Gunnar is Gundicarius,
a Burgundian monarch, whose kingdom was destroyed by the Huns, and who
was slain with his brothers in 451. Gudrun is the Burgundian princess
Ildico, who slew her husband on her wedding-night, as has already
been related, using the glittering blade which had once belonged to
the sun-god to avenge her murdered kinsmen.