SO Siegmund became a mighty king,—said Regin,—and was known far and wide as the giver of rich gifts. In time of war he fought with Sinfiotli at his side; and when peace reigned in the kingdom, the son of Signy sat in the seat of honour by the king’s throne. Now Sinfiotli loved a fair woman who was also wooed by the brother of Borghild, Siegmund’s queen; and when they fought this matter out between them, Sinfiotli killed the queen’s brother and took the maiden for his wife. Then Borghild demanded that the slayer be driven out of the kingdom because of this deed; but Siegmund said that the man was killed in fair fight, and therefore Sinfiotli should not pay the forfeit of banishment. Hoping to soften the queen’s anger, he offered her gold and treasure as payment for her brother’s life, but she would have none of it. Seeing, however, that she could not win her way with the king, she pretended to forgive the deed; and asked both Siegmund and Sinfiotli to the funeral feast which she held in her brother’s honour.

There were many guests gathered to the feast, and Borghild, the queen, brought drink to each one. When she came to Sinfiotli with the great horn in her hand, she said, “Drink now, fair stepson.” But when the youth looked into the horn he answered, “Nay, I will not, for the drink is charmed.” Then the queen laughed and handed the horn to Siegmund, who drank the ale to the last drop, for no poison nor charmed drink could work him any harm. A second time did Borghild come to Sinfiotli with the horn in her hand offering him drink, and again he refused it, saying, “Guile is in the drink.” So Siegmund took the horn and emptied it while the queen taunted Sinfiotli with his fears and said, “Why must other men drink thine ale for thee?” A third time Borghild came with the horn, and she goaded Sinfiotli with these words, “Drink now, if there is in thee the heart of a Volsung.” So he took the horn, but when he looked into it, he said, “Venom is therein.”

Now by this time Siegmund was so dazed with drinking that he had forgotten the queen’s former hatred for her brother’s slayer, and he cried to Sinfiotli, “Drink and fear naught.” So Sinfiotli drank, and straightway fell down dead. When Siegmund saw the youth lying dead at his feet, his senses returned to him, and he sorrowed greatly over the words he had spoken. Then he lifted the body of Sinfiotli in his arms and bore it out of the palace hall while the funeral guests sat silent, none daring to intrude upon the king’s sorrow. Now Siegmund fared on through the woods till he came to the seashore, and here he found a little boat with an old man seated at the oars. The man wore a dark blue cloak, and his hat was drawn down over his face; but Siegmund saw none of this, for his thoughts were with his dead companion. The old man asked if they would be ferried to the other side of the bay, and Siegmund came with his burden to the water’s edge. The little boat could not hold them all, so Siegmund laid the body of Sinfiotli beside the ferryman. But as soon as it was placed within, both the boat and the old man vanished, and Siegmund found himself alone. Yet his heart was full of gladness, for he knew that it was Odin himself who had come to take another Volsung to join the heroes in Valhalla. Then Siegmund returned to his own hall, and so hateful did the queen become in his eyes that he could bear the sight of her no longer and drove her forth from the palace. Not many months after this, word was brought to him that Borghild was dead.

Now there lived in a neighbouring country a wealthy king who had a daughter named Hiordis—the fairest and wisest among women. When Siegmund heard of the maiden’s beauty, he desired to wed her, though he himself was now well on in years. So he chose the bravest warriors of his court, and with his horses well-loaded with gifts, he set out for the country where Hiordis lived. At her father’s palace he was royally welcomed, and his proposals were received with favour; but there was another king suing for the maiden’s hand, so no promise could be given to Siegmund. The father of Hiordis feared that, whichever of the suitors was rejected, war and trouble would arise, and therefore he knew not how to answer them. So he went to his daughter and said: “You are a wise woman, and I will let this matter rest in your hands. Choose a husband for yourself, and I will abide by your choice though my whole kingdom be plunged into warfare.” Then Hiordis answered, “Though King Lyngi is far younger than Siegmund, yet I will choose Siegmund for my husband, for his fame as a warrior is greater and we can rely upon his strength.” So Hiordis was wedded to Siegmund the Volsung, and a great feast was held which lasted many days. King Lyngi departed to his own country, but Siegmund knew that he would hear of him again. After the wedding festivities were over, the Volsungs returned home; but they had been there only a few days before word was sent to Siegmund that King Lyngi had landed on his coast with a host of followers, and demanded that the Volsungs should meet him in battle.

Siegmund knew well that a great army had come against him, yet he answered that he would fight until no man was left in his kingdom; and accordingly he gathered his army together and met the forces of King Lyngi in an open field. The enemy rushed from their boats in such numbers that it seemed as if there was no end to them; and Siegmund saw that his followers would be no match for the great horde of fighting men that swept down from the enemy’s ships. Nevertheless the Volsungs fought bravely when the horns blew that called the men to battle, and Siegmund, at the head of his army, cheered his followers on to the fight. He rushed boldly through the ranks of the foe, and no helmet or shield could withstand the stroke of his sword. So fiercely did he fight that none could tell the tale of those who fell before him, and his arms were red with blood even to the shoulders.

Now when the battle had raged a long while, there came a strange man suddenly into the midst of the fight. He had a blue cloak upon his shoulders, and a slouched hat was pulled down over his face so that none might see he had only one eye. He advanced upon Siegmund with a shield held aloft; and the leader of the Volsungs—now sore spent with battle—knew not who the stranger might be, so he smote upon the upraised shield with all his strength. Never yet had the magic sword failed him in battle, but now it broke in half, and as its pieces fell to the ground, the stranger in the blue cloak disappeared. Then Siegmund knew who it was that had come against him, and he lost all heart for the fight. His men fell fast all around him, and although he fought on bravely, as became a Volsung, he saw that the battle was already lost. Soon he himself received a mortal wound, and when his men saw their leader drop from the ranks, they had no longer any hope of victory, and died fighting half-heartedly beside the fallen Siegmund.

Now Hiordis had left the palace with her handmaid when the battle first began, and she lay hidden in the forest where none of King Lyngi’s people might find her. She had brought with her from the palace as much gold and treasure as she and her bondwoman could carry, that the conquering host might not enjoy the whole of Siegmund’s wealth. When most of the Volsungs had fallen in battle, and King Lyngi knew himself victor, he hurried to the palace to take possession of Siegmund’s riches and also Siegmund’s queen. But when he entered the palace, he found everything in confusion. The treasure chests had been emptied, and none of the frightened servants could tell him what had happened nor where the queen might be found. So King Lyngi contented himself with what riches he found, and that night his followers made merry in the halls of the Volsung, drinking ale and boasting of the day’s victory. When Hiordis heard the noise of the midnight revels, she crept out of her hiding-place and sought for Siegmund among the countless dead. The battle-field was a gruesome place, and she groped blindly and fearfully among the wounded, hoping that it might be here and not among the dead that she would find her lord. At last she came upon Siegmund, and tried to staunch the blood that still flowed from his wounds; but he put her aside, saying, “I will not suffer myself to be healed, since Odin wills that I should never draw sword again.” Then the queen wept softly and answered, “If thou diest, who will then avenge us?” And Siegmund said: “Fear not that the last of the Volsungs has stood to do mighty deeds, for a son will be born to thee and me who shall be greater than all those who have been before him. Cherish carefully the pieces of Odin’s sword which lie here beside me, for of these shall a goodly sword be made, and our son shall bear it, and with it he shall work many a great work so that his name shall be honoured as long as the world endures. Go now, for I grow weary with my wounds and would fain follow my kinsmen. Soon I shall be with all the Volsungs who have gone before me.”

So Hiordis the queen kept silent, but she stayed beside Siegmund until the dawning; and when she knew he was dead, she took up the pieces of the broken sword and carried them back with her into the forest. Then she said to her handmaid: “Let us now change raiment, and do thou henceforth be called by my name and say that thou art the king’s daughter. Look over there to the sea, where some ships are now sailing toward our shores. Neither to King Lyngi nor to the strangers that are approaching would I be known as Siegmund’s queen.” Then the women changed raiment, and stood watching the ships as they neared the land.

The newcomers were not of King Lyngi’s following, but were Vikings who had put into that coast on account of the high seas; and when they made a landing they came up over the shore and looked with wonder at the battle-field and the great number of the dead. The leader of the Vikings was Alf, the son of Hjalprek, king of Denmark, and as he gazed across the battle-field he saw the two women watching him, so he sent his men to bring them to him. When Hiordis and her handmaid stood before Alf, he asked them why they were standing thus alone, and why so many men lay dead upon the field. Then Hiordis, remembering the lowly position she had assumed, kept silent, but the handmaid spoke to him as befitted a king’s daughter, and told him of the fall of Siegmund and the death of the Volsungs at the hand of King Lyngi and his hosts.

When Alf learned that the woman to whom he was speaking was of the royal household, he asked if she knew where the Volsungs’ treasure was hid; and the bondmaid answered that she had the greater part of it with her in the forest. So she led him to the spot where the gold and silver lay; and such a wonder of wealth was there that the men thought they had never seen so many priceless things heaped together in one place. All this treasure the Vikings carried to their ships; and when they set sail it was with the wealth of Siegmund on board as well as Queen Hiordis and her handmaid. They spent many days on the sea before they reached Denmark, and during that time Alf spoke frequently with Hiordis and her maiden, but often he sat by the bondwoman’s side, believing her to be the king’s daughter.

When the Vikings at last reached their own country, they were met by the queen mother, who listened gladly to the tale of their wanderings and welcomed the strangers to the palace. Before they had been home many days, she came to King Alf and asked him why the fairer of the two women had fewer rings and meaner attire than her companion. “For,” she said, “I deem the one whom you have held of least account to be the nobler born.” And Alf answered: “I, too, have doubted that she is really a bondmaid; for though she spoke but little when I first greeted her, she bore herself proudly like a king’s daughter. But now let us make a trial of the two.” So when the men were feasting that night, Alf left his companions and came and sat down by the women. Turning to the handmaiden, he said, “How do you know what is the hour for rising in winter when there are no lights in the heavens?” And the bondwoman answered, “In my youth I was wont to get up at dawn to begin my tasks, and now I waken as soon as the day breaks.”

“Ill manners for a king’s daughter,” laughed Alf, and, turning to Hiordis, he asked her the same question.

The queen then unhesitatingly replied: “My father once gave me a little gold ring, and this always grows cold on my finger as the day dawns. Thus I know it is soon time to rise.”

At these words King Alf sprang up, crying: “Gold rings are not given to bondmaids. Thou art the king’s daughter.”

Then Hiordis the queen, seeing that she could deceive Alf no longer, told him the truth concerning her history, and when he knew she was the wife of Siegmund he decreed that she should be held in great honour. Not long after this the son of Hiordis and Siegmund was born, and great rejoicing was made throughout the kingdom, for when the child was but a few days old, King Alf wedded Hiordis, whom he had found the worthiest of women. The boy was much beloved by his stepfather, and no one who looked upon him desired any other to succeed King Alf upon the throne, for the child was beautiful to see, brave and bold-looking, even as an infant. His eyes had already the keenness of a falcon, and so straight and strong he grew that the heart of King Alf was filled with joy.

When Regin reached this part of his story, he turned to Siegfried and laid his hand on the youth’s shoulder, saying: “The gods have placed you among a kindly people, and given you a foster-father that has ever sought to train you in wisdom and in strength. But you are not of this people, and your place is not among them. Great deeds are in store for you, and you are to be worthy of your race. All that I could teach you, you have learned. Go forth, therefore, and by your own hand win fame that shall add to the glory of the Volsungs. Tomorrow you shall fashion a sword for your use, and it shall be mightier than any that has come from our hands. But let us drop the tale now and sleep, for it is almost daylight, and only a spark glimmers in the forge.”

The next day Siegfried made ready the fire, but before he laid the steel in it he asked Regin what had become of the pieces of Odin’s famous sword. “No one knows where they are hidden,”[43] answered the master, “for on the death of your mother Hiordis, the secret was lost, and no man can tell where the place of their hiding may be.” So Regin selected the very finest steel for Siegfried’s sword, and the youth set to work eagerly, for Regin’s story had filled him with a burning desire to go out into distant lands and do great deeds worthy of his name and race. For seven days and nights he never left his forge, but stood tempering and testing his steel, and throwing aside every piece that did not seem perfect. At last a blade was finished that promised to be worthy of a Volsung. Regin praised it highly and said he had never felt a finer edge. But Siegfried only said, “Let us prove it.” So he took the sword and smote with all his strength upon the anvil. The blade shivered into a dozen pieces.

Nothing disheartened, Siegfried set to work again, and spent many days and nights at his forge, often forgetting to eat or sleep in his eagerness to finish his task. When at last the steel had been finely tempered and seemed of perfect workmanship, he called to Regin and bade him try its strength. “Nay, let us not dull the edge,” replied the master; “there is no need to put it to the test, for I can see that it is true and strong.” But Siegfried took the sword and smote again upon the anvil; this time the blade was blunted, though it did not break in pieces. Then Regin besought him to try no longer, but the youth, grim and determined, returned to the forge and made ready his tools for another effort.

That night he paused many times in his work, and often felt so discouraged that he was tempted to give up the task; but each time he became ashamed of his weakness, and bravely set to work again. Once when he sat down by the fire to rest, he was conscious of some one’s being in the room, but thinking it was Regin who had come to inspect his work, he did not look up to see. At length, however, the silence grew uncomfortable, and Siegfried turned around. Close beside him was standing a tall man wrapped in a dark blue mantle. His beard and hair were very long and very white, and by the dim light of the fire Siegfried noticed that he had only one eye. His face was kindly, and his whole presence had an air both gentle and reassuring, yet something about him filled the youth with a strange awe. He waited for the stranger to speak, but no word came, and Siegfried began to tremble with nervous fear. At this the old man smiled, and handed him the pieces of a broken sword. Siegfried took them in wonder, but before he could frame a question he found himself suddenly alone; the stranger had disappeared.

The next morning Siegfried hastened to Regin and told him of his strange visitor. Regin thought at first that the lad had been dreaming, but when he saw the pieces of broken sword, he cried out joyfully: “Fortune now be with you, Siegfried; for it was no other than Odin who visited you, and these pieces are of the famous sword which in former days the ruler of the gods gave to your father. There is no fear for your future now, since Odin has chosen to watch over your welfare; and by his decree you will stand or fall.”

Grasping the pieces of Odin’s sword firmly in his hand, Siegfried welded them together into a mighty weapon, the strongest that had ever come from the hand of man. And he called the sword Balmung.[44] Then he bade Regin test the mettle of the new blade, and when the master looked upon it, it seemed as though a fire burned along the edges of the sword. Now Siegfried grasped the weapon in his two hands and smote with all his strength upon the anvil, but no pieces of steel fell shattered at his feet, for the sword had cut the anvil in two as easily as if it had been a feather. So Siegfried was satisfied.