The Story of Sigurd the Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs Part 5

increase, Or half of my father's kingdom? O toilers at the oar, O wasters of the sea-plain, now labour ye no more!

But take the gifts I bid you, and lie upon the gold, And clothe your limbs in purple and the silken women hold!"

But a great voice cried o'er the fire: "Nay, no such men are we, No tuggers at the hawser, no wasters of the sea: We will have the gold and the purple when we list such things to win But now we think on our fathers, and avenging of our kin.

Not all King Siggeir's kingdom, and not all the world's increase For ever and for ever, shall buy thee life and peace.

For now is the tree-bough blossomed that sprang from murder's seed; And the death-doomed and the buried are they that do the deed; Now when the dead shall ask thee by whom thy days were done, Thou shalt say by Sigmund the Volsung, and Sinfiotli, Signy's son."

Then stark fear fell on the earl-folk, and silent they abide Amid the flaming penfold; and again the great voice cried, As the Goth-king's golden pillars grew red amidst the blaze: "Ye women of the Goth-folk, come forth upon your ways; And thou, Signy, O my sister, come forth from death and h.e.l.l, That beneath the boughs of the Branstock once more we twain may dwell."

Forth came the white-faced women and pa.s.sed Sinfiotli's sword, Free by the glaive of Odin the trembling pale ones poured, But amid their hurrying terror came never Signy's feet; And the pearls of the throne of Siggeir shrunk in the fervent heat.

Then the men of war surged outward to the twofold doors of bane, But there played the sword of Sigmund amidst the fiery lane Before the gable door-way, and by the woman's door Sinfiotli sang to the sword-edge amid the bale-fire's roar, And back again to the burning the earls of the Goth-folk shrank: And the light low licked the tables, and the wine of Siggeir drank.

Lo now to the woman's doorway, the steel-watched bower of flame, Clad in her queenly raiment King Volsung's daughter came Before Sinfiotli's sword-point; and she said: "O mightiest son, Best now is our departing in the day my grief hath won, And the many days of toiling, and the travail of my womb, And the hate, and the fire of longing: thou, son, and this day of the doom Have long been as one to my heart; and now shall I leave you both, And well ye may wot of the slumber my heart is nothing loth; And all the more, as, meseemeth, thy day shall not be long To weary thee with labour and mingle wrong with wrong.

Yea, and I wot that the daylight thine eyes had never seen Save for a great king's murder and the shame of a mighty queen.

But let thy soul, I charge thee, o'er all these things prevail To make thy short day glorious and leave a goodly tale."

She kissed him and departed, and unto Sigmund went As now against the dawning grey grew the winter bent: As the night and the morning mingled he saw her face once more, And he deemed it fair and ruddy as in the days of yore; Yet fast the tears fell from her, and the sobs upheaved her breast: And she said: "My youth was happy; but this hour belike is best Of all the days of my life-tide, that soon shall have an end.

I have come to greet thee, Sigmund, then back again must I wend, For his bed the Goth-king dighteth: I have lain therein, time was, And loathed the sleep I won there: but lo, how all things pa.s.s, And hearts are changed and softened, for lovely now it seems.

Yet fear not my forgetting: I shall see thee in my dreams A mighty king of the world 'neath the boughs of the Branstock green, With thine earls and thy lords about thee as the Volsung fas.h.i.+on hath been.

And there shall all ye remember how I loved the Volsung name, Nor spared to spend for its blooming my joy, and my life, and my fame.

For hear thou: that Sinfiotli, who hath wrought out our desire, Who hath compa.s.sed about King Siggeir with this sea of a deadly fire, Who brake thy grave asunder--my child and thine he is, Begot in that house of the Dwarf-kind for no other end than this; The son of Volsung's daughter, the son of Volsung's son.

Look, look! might another helper this deed with thee have done?"

And indeed as the word she uttereth, high up the red flames flare To the nether floor of the heavens: and yet men see them there, The golden roofs of Siggeir, the hall of the silver door That the Goths and the G.o.ds had builded to last for evermore.

She said: "Farewell, my brother, for the earls my candles light, And I must wend me bedward lest I lose the flower of night."

And soft and sweet she kissed him, ere she turned about again, And a little while was Signy beheld of the eyes of men; And as she crossed the threshold day brightened at her back, Nor once did she turn her earthward from the reek and the whirling wrack, But fair in the fas.h.i.+on of Queens pa.s.sed on to the heart of the hall.

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.

A sign for many people on the land of the Goths it lay, A lamp of the earth none needed, for the bright sun brought the day.

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

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

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

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

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

And now for their fame's advancement, and the latter days to speed, He weddeth a wife of the King-folk; Borghild she had to name; And the woman was fair and lovely and bore him sons of fame; Men call 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.

And he waxed up fair and mighty, and no worser than their word, And sweet are the tales of his life-days, and the wonders of his sword, And the Maid of the s.h.i.+eld that he wedded, and how he changed his life, And of marvels wrought in the gravemound where he rested from the strife.

But the tale of Sinfiotli telleth, that wide in the world he went, And many a wall of ravens the edge of his warflame rent; And oft he drave the war-prey and wasted many a land: Amidst King Hunding's battle he strengthened Helgi's hand; And he went before the banners amidst the steel-grown wood, When the sons of Hunding gathered and Helgi's hope withstood: Nor less he mowed the war-swathe in Helgi's glorious day When the kings of the hosts at the Wolf-crag set the battle in array.

Then at home by his father's high-seat he wore the winter through; And the marvel of all men he was for the deeds whereof they knew, And the deeds whereof none wotted, and the deeds to follow after.

And yet but a little while he loved the song and the laughter, And the wine that was drunk in peace, and the swordless lying down, And the deedless day's uprising and the ungirt golden gown.

And he thought of the word of his mother, that his day should not be long To weary his soul with labour or mingle wrong with wrong; And his heart was exceeding hungry o'er all men to prevail, And make his short day glorious and leave a goodly tale.

So when green leaves were lengthening and the spring was come again He set his s.h.i.+ps in the sea-flood and sailed across the main; And the brother of Queen Borghild was his fellow in the war, A king of hosts hight Gudrod; and each to each they swore, And plighted troth for the helping, and the parting of the prey.

Now a long way over the sea-flood they went ash.o.r.e on a day And fought with a mighty folk-king, and overcame at last: Then wide about his kingdom the net of steel they cast, And the prey was great and goodly that they drave unto the strand.

But a greedy heart is Gudrod, and a king of griping hand, Though nought he blench from the battle; so he speaks on a morning fair, And saith: "Upon the foresh.o.r.e the booty will we share If thou wilt help me, fellow, before we sail our ways."

Sinfiotli laughed, and answered: "O'ershort methinks the days That two kings of war should chaffer like merchants of the men: I will come again in the even and look on thy dealings then, And take the share thou givest."

Then he went his ways withal, And drank day-long in his wars.h.i.+p as in his father's hall; And came again in the even: now hath Gudrod shared the spoil, And throughout that day of summer not light had been his toil: Forsooth his heap was the lesser; but Sinfiotli looked thereon, And saw that a goodly getting had Borghild's brother won.

Clean-limbed and stark were the horses, and the neat were fat and sleek, And the men-thralls young and stalwart, and the women young and meek; Fair-gilt was the harness of battle, and the raiment fresh and bright, And the household stuff new-fas.h.i.+oned for lords' and earls' delight.

On his own then looked Sinfiotli, and great it was forsooth, But half-foundered were the horses, and a sight for all men's ruth Were the thin-ribbed hungry cow-kind; and the thralls both carle and quean Were the wilful, the weak, and the witless, and the old and the ill-beseen; Spoilt was the harness and house-gear, and the raiment rags of cloth.

Now Sinfiotli's men beheld it and grew exceeding wroth, But Sinfiotli laughed and answered: "The day's work hath been meet: Thou hast done well, war-brother, to sift the chaff from the wheat Nought have kings' sons to meddle with the refuse of the earth, Nor shall warriors burden their long-s.h.i.+ps with things of nothing worth."

Then he cried across the sea-strand in a voice exceeding great: "Depart, ye thralls of the battle; ye have nought to do to wait!

Old, young, and good, and evil, depart and share the spoil, That burden of the battle, that spring and seed of toil.

--But thou king of the greedy heart, thou king of the thievish grip, What now wilt thou bear to the sea-strand and set within my s.h.i.+p To buy thy life from the slaying? Unmeet for kings to hear Of a king the breaker of troth, of a king the stealer of gear."

Then mad-wroth waxed King Gudrod, and he cried: "Stand up, my men!

And slay this wood-abider lest he slay his brothers again!"

But no sword leapt from its sheath, and his men shrank back in dread; Then Sinfiotli's brow grew smoother, and at last he spake and said: "Indeed thou art very brother of my father Sigmund's wife: Wilt thou do so much for thine honour, wilt thou do so much for thy life, As to bide my sword on the island in the pale of the hazel wands?

For I know thee no battle-blencher, but a valiant man of thine hands."

Now nought King Gudrod gainsayeth, and men dight the hazelled field, And there on the morrow morning they clash the sword and s.h.i.+eld, And the fallow blades are leaping: short is the tale to tell, For with the third stroke stricken to field King Gudrod fell.

So there in the holm they lay him; and plenteous store of gold Sinfiotli lays beside him amid that hall of mould; "For he gripped," saith the son of Sigmund, "and gathered for such a day."

Then Sinfiotli and his fellows o'er the sea-flood sail away, And come to the land of the Volsungs: but Borghild heareth the tale, And into the hall she cometh with eager face and pale As the kings were feasting together, and glad was Sigmund grown Of the words of Sinfiotli's battle, and the tale of his great renown: And there sat the sons of Borghild, and they hearkened and were glad Of their brother born in the wild-wood, and the crown of fame he had.

So she stood before King Sigmund, and spread her hands abroad: "I charge thee now, King Sigmund, as thou art the Volsungs' lord, To tell me of my brother, why cometh he not from the sea?"

Quoth Sinfiotli: "Well thou wottest and the tale hath come to thee: The white swords met in the island; bright there did the war-s.h.i.+elds s.h.i.+ne, And there thy brother abideth, for his hand was worser than mine."

But she heeded him never a whit, but cried on Sigmund and said: "I charge thee now, King Sigmund, as thou art the lord of my bed, To drive this wolf of the King-folk from out thy guarded land; Lest all we of thine house and kindred should fall beneath his hand."

Then spake King Sigmund the Volsung: "When thou hast heard the tale, Thou shalt know that somewhat thy brother of his oath to my son did fail; Nor fell the man all sackless: nor yet need Sigmund's son For any slain in sword-field to any soul atone.

Yet for the love I bear thee, and because thy love I know, And because the man was mighty, and far afield would go, I will lay down a mighty weregild, a heap of the ruddy gold."

But no word answered Borghild, for her heart was grim and cold; And she went from the hall of the feasting, and lay in her bower a while; Nor speech she took, nor gave it, but brooded deadly guile.

And now again on the morrow to Sigmund the king she went, And she saith that her wrath hath failed her, and that well is she content To take the king's atonement; and she kissed him soft and sweet, And she kissed Sinfiotli his son, and sat down in the golden seat All merry and glad by seeming, and blithe to most and least.

And again she biddeth King Sigmund that he hold a funeral feast For her brother slain on the island; and nought he gainsayeth her will.

And so on an eve of the autumn do men the beakers fill, And the earls are gathered together 'neath the boughs of the Branstock green; There gold-clad mid the feasting went Borghild, Sigmund's Queen, And she poured the wine for Sinfiotli, and smiled in his face and said: "Drink now of this cup from mine hand, and bury we hate that is dead."

So he took the cup from her fingers, nor drank but pondered long O'er the gathering days of his labour, and the intermingled wrong.

Now he sat by the side of his father; and Sigmund spake a word: "O son, why sittest thou silent mid the glee of earl and lord?"

"I look in the cup," quoth Sinfiotli, "and hate therein I see."

"Well looked it is," said Sigmund; "give thou the cup to me,"

And he drained it dry to the bottom; for ye mind how it was writ That this king might drink of venom, and have no hurt of it.