THE king whose protection Regin sought was named Alf, and when he learned of the great skill that belonged to this stranger in his realm, he gave Regin a place of honour among the sword-makers, and soon promoted him to be master-smith. Before many years passed the fame of Regin’s smithy had spread far and wide; for here men gathered not only to learn the master’s craft, but to share in that wisdom which he seemed to have gathered from all the ages. Even the noted wise men of the kingdom came to him, wondering at his great knowledge; and the king sought his counsel in all the difficult affairs of state.

At the court of King Alf lived his foster-son Siegfried,[39] who was much beloved by the king, although he was not of his own blood. The youth was tall and strong, of fearless bearing, and with so keen an eye that men often quailed before his glance. His hair was golden red, and fell down in long locks over his shoulders; and his body was of a strength that matched the beauty of his face. Men said of him that “never did he lose heart, and of naught was he afraid.” When Siegfried grew to manhood, King Alf sent him to Regin’s smithy that he might not only profit by the wisdom of this wisest of teachers, but also be taught to fashion a sword that could be worthily borne by one of his name and race, for Siegfried was the last of the Volsungs—a race of warriors whose fame was still fresh in the minds of men.

At first Siegfried did not like to wear the woollen coat and rough leather apron of a smith, for he was a prince’s son and he thought the work menial; but he soon learned to respect his great teacher so much that the place took on a new dignity in his eyes and he no longer chafed at the hard work or the simple fare he shared with Regin. Early in the morning the sound of Siegfried’s hammer could be heard as he worked blithely at his trade, and he almost forgot that he had ever known any other life than this one by Regin’s side. When the long day was over and he sat with his master by the glowing light of the forge, Regin would tell him wonderful tales of gods and heroes and especially of the warrior race from which Siegfried sprang. Many times they sat until the last bit of fire in the forge sank into lifeless embers, and still the youth listened eagerly to the stories of brave deeds wrought by the long-dead Volsungs. The story which he never tired of hearing was that of his own birth, and in this wise did Regin always begin the tale:—

There was once a mighty king named Volsung,[40] who built a lordly palace such as men never saw before nor will ever see again; for its walls glistened with thousands of shields taken from his enemies in battle, and in the centre of the palace was a large courtyard in which grew a wonderful tree. This tree was so high that it towered above the castle walls, and its branches grew so thick that they spread like a roof over the whole palace. The king called this tree Branstock, and about its mighty trunk the Volsungs gathered to feast and sing songs in praise of their king and their race.

Ten sons and one daughter were born to King Volsung, and of these the great ruler was rightly proud, for the youths bid fair to excel their kinsmen in strength and courage, while the daughter, Signy, was so famed for her beauty that suitors came from many distant lands. Now there was a certain king named Siggeir, ruler of the Goths, who wooed the fair Signy with many rich gifts, all of which the maiden coldly disdained, for she distrusted his dark, evil-looking face. King Volsung, however, was much taken with the wealth of Siggeir and his seeming generosity, and he urged his daughter to accept this giver of rich gifts. For a long time Signy refused to listen to her father’s words, but at length she yielded and was betrothed to her hated suitor. Then a great feast was proclaimed throughout the kingdom, and Siggeir gave freely of his gold. The wedding banquet was served in the courtyard beneath the spreading boughs of the mighty Branstock, and the guests were so many in number that they well-nigh filled the halls to overflowing.

When the feasting and merriment were at their highest, there suddenly appeared in the midst of the revellers a tall old man. He had a blue cloak thrown over his shoulders, and his beard was long and white. Only a few of the guests caught a glimpse of his face, but those who did affirmed that he had only one eye. Stepping quickly up to King Volsung’s wonderful tree, he drew from beneath his cloak a gleaming sword and drove it with great force into the tree trunk, up to the very hilt. Then turning to the astonished company, he said, “Whoso draweth this sword from the tree shall have it as a gift from me; and he shall find that he never bore in his hand a better sword than this.” So saying, the old man went forth from the hall, and none knew who he was nor whither he went; but some whispered that it was Odin himself who had been among them.

Then one by one the guests of King Volsung tried to draw out the sword, but, though many of them were strong-armed warriors, not a single man had the power so much as to loosen it from the tree. King Siggeir was among the last to try his strength, and he strove until his eyes almost started from his head. But he, too, failed as the others had done, and returned to his place angered and humiliated at his defeat. When all the guests had been put to the test, and no one had drawn the sword, a certain lord said to King Volsung, “Have you no more sons?” and the king answered: “There is yet one more, but he is a mere lad. It would be cruel to shame him before so great a company.” The warriors urged him, however, to summon the youth; and though anxious to spare his youngest son, the king reluctantly consented to have Siegmund[41] appear. The lad stood straight and strong and fearless before the lordly company, and asked what was the king’s will. Volsung pointed to the sword, and bade young Siegmund draw it forth. To the astonishment of all beholders, the lad stepped boldly up to the Branstock, and, grasping the hilt of the sword, drew it out as easily as if it had only been in the scabbard. The guests were delighted at this evidence of Odin’s favour toward an untried stripling; and they all praised Siegmund’s good fortune—all but King Siggeir, who hated the youth from that day. He sought to buy the sword of Siegmund by offering him thrice its weight in gold, but the youth replied: “You might have had the sword if it were Odin’s will that you should bear it. But now it shall stay mine, though you offered me all the gold you have.” Then was King Siggeir filled with wrath at these scornful words and vowed vengeance against Siegmund and all the Volsungs.

When the wedding feast was over and the time came for Signy to set sail with her husband to his own land, King Siggeir spoke fair words to Volsung and his ten sons, and begged them to visit him in Gothland. Then said Signy to her father, “I pray thee, urge me not to go away with King Siggeir, for by my foreknowledge I am certain that no good will come of this marriage.” But Volsung answered: “Speak not so, my daughter; and go with thy husband, for it will bring great shame to us if we fail to trust him without reason. Moreover, he will pay us back most evilly if we break faith with him for no cause.” So Signy went with her husband, and they sailed away from the land of the Volsungs.

Now at the appointed time when the king had promised Siggeir to visit him in Gothland, Volsung and his ten sons put forth in the ships with a goodly following of men. After many days of pleasant voyaging, they reached the stranger’s country, and came in toward the shore on the evening tide. But before they made a landing, Signy the queen came secretly to them, and begged them to return at once to their own land, for Siggeir had sworn to kill them. Her pleadings were in vain, however, for the grisly old king of the Volsungs had never yet turned his back to a foe, and he had no fear of Siggeir and his hosts. So Signy went back to the palace, and the old king with his followers waited for the dawn. At a fitting time they left the boats, and sought the way to King Siggeir’s palace. They seemed a gayly dressed company that had come as guests to a marriage feast, but under their cloaks each man carried a sword—being mindful of Signy’s warning.

No messenger came forth to welcome them, but as they neared the palace King Siggeir fell upon them with a great army, and neither bravery nor a good sword could withstand the assault of such numbers. The Volsungs fought hard, and with all the courage of their race, and many a Goth lay dead at the old king’s feet and at the feet of his sons; but at last Volsung himself was struck down by a treacherous blow; and when his followers saw their leader dead, they lost heart for the fight. Then all of the goodly company that had come to Gothland with the king were slain by Siggeir’s men, and soon none were left of all the Volsungs but the king’s ten sons. These were sorely wounded, yet alive, so they were bound with chains and carried before Siggeir that he might determine by what torment they should die.

Now came Signy to the palace hall and begged their lives of the king; but Siggeir laughed at her prayers and bade his men slay the sons of Volsung before their sister’s eyes. But first he took from Siegmund the coveted gift of Odin, declaring that the youth should die by a stroke from his own sword. Then Signy threw herself at the feet of her lord and begged him to grant her brothers a few more days of life. At the end of that time he might do with them as he wished, and she would plead no more. To prove that she had no thought of trying to release them, she asked that they might be chained to a certain fallen oak in the forest so that she could visit them without incurring the king’s displeasure. As all of the Volsungs were wounded, and some of them suffering greatly, this idea of prolonging their torment pleased Siggeir’s fancy; and he agreed to let the brothers live for a few days chained to the fallen oak; but meantime he shut Signy up in the palace under a strict watch.

Now it happened that at midnight a she-wolf came out of the heart of the forest; and, seizing upon one of the Volsungs, devoured him, and then went her way. When news of this dreadful disaster reached Signy, she begged Siggeir to put her brothers in prison; but the king only laughed again and left the Volsungs in the forest. Each night, at midnight, the she-wolf came out of the deep woods to eat one of the brothers; and this was repeated until all were devoured except Siegmund.[42] Then Signy called to her a trusted servant, and putting a pot of honey in his hand, she bade him go into the forest and smear the face and hands of her brother with the sweet liquid. The servant did as the queen instructed him; so that night, when the she-wolf came out of the forest, she smelt the sweet odour, and instead of falling upon Siegmund to tear him to pieces, she began to lick the honey from his face and hands.

Some of the liquid had dripped over Siegmund’s lips, and when the she-wolf thrust her greedy tongue into his mouth, he caught it firmly between his teeth and bit with all his strength. In her frantic efforts to get loose from the torturing grip, the she-wolf set her feet against the fallen tree and strained so mightily that the chain which bound Siegmund snapped in two pieces and the youth found himself free. Then he seized the wolf by the throat, and strangled her with his mere hands. Leaving the beast’s body and his own torn clothes by the oak tree, he fled far into the forest.

King Siggeir believed that the last of the Volsungs had died in the same manner as his brothers; but Signy felt in her heart that Siegmund had succeeded, through her strategy, in escaping. Soon word was brought to her by her faithful servant that Siegmund was alive and in need of help; so each day she sent the messenger to the forest with food for her brother and the assurance that she would always watch over his needs. Then Siegmund built himself an underground hut in the woods, and lived as a wild man; and thither came Signy by night, for King Siggeir had granted the queen her liberty, believing that all the Volsungs were dead. Between them they plotted many things to avenge the murder of their kinsmen; but as yet their plans seemed futile, for how could one youth prevail against a king’s army?