SO, many years went by, and two sons were born to Signy and King Siggeir, both of them so like their father that the queen saw no touch of the Volsung spirit in either one, and no courage on which she could rely to help her and Siegmund in their work of vengeance. When the eldest was ten years old, his mother sent him to the forest that he might be trained by Siegmund if there were aught in him worthy of the Volsung race. When the lad came to the earth-dwelling, Siegmund saw that he had none of the right mettle in him; but he welcomed his sister’s son and bade him make ready the bread for the evening meal while he himself went to seek firewood. On Siegmund’s return the lad was still standing with the bag of meal in his hand, and there was no bread laid upon the coals. When Siegmund questioned him, he answered, “I dared not set hand in the sack, for there was something moving in the meal.” So Siegmund sent the lad back to his mother, for he knew that such a faint-hearted youth could never help him to avenge his murdered kinsmen.

Next year Signy sent her second son into the forest; but he too was fearful of the meal, and said on Siegmund’s return, “There is something alive in the sack, so I dared not touch it.” Then Siegmund bade him return to his mother. Some years later another son was born to Signy who in all ways resembled the Volsungs, so tall and strong and fierce he was, yet fair of face like Siegmund. When his mother deemed him courageous enough and of hardihood enough to stand an extreme test, she sewed his shirt to his skin and then suddenly tore it off, at which the child only laughed and said, “How little would a Volsung care for such a smart as that!” Then Signy knew that she might send the lad at once to her brother; so she bade him go forthwith to the earth house in the forest.

As soon as the lad, who was called Sinfiotli, came to Siegmund’s hut, he was told to knead the meal for the baking, just as his brothers had been. Then he was left alone, and when Siegmund returned from gathering firewood, the bread was ready baked and lying on the hearth. When asked if he had seen anything move in the meal, the lad replied, “Yes, I felt there was something alive in the sack, but whatever it was I have kneaded it all together with the meal.”

Then Siegmund laughed and said:—

“Naught wilt thou eat of bread this night, for thou hast kneaded up the most deadly of serpents. Though I may eat of any poison and live, there is no venom which thou mayst take and remain alive.”

Now Sinfiotli stayed with Siegmund in the earth-dwelling, and was trained in all things that befitted a warrior of the Volsungs. Together they roamed the wild woods, hunting, fighting wild beasts and plundering like outlaws—for in no other way could they gain wealth. Sinfiotli soon forgot the days he had spent in King Siggeir’s palace and believed himself in very truth a Volsung. Now it happened that one day as they journeyed together through the forest, they came upon a certain house in which lay two men fast asleep. On the wrists and ankles of the sleepers were heavy gold rings, and over their heads hung two gray wolfskins. By this Siegmund knew that they were werewolves and that this must be the tenth night—at which time the spell is removed and the enchanted may resume their human shape.

Then Siegmund and Sinfiotli put on the wolfskins while the men lay asleep; and having once done this, they could in no way free themselves from the enchantment until the appointed time. So they rushed forth into the forest howling like wolves, though each knew the meaning of the other’s cries. Having the nature of wild beasts, they went in search of prey, but before taking their separate ways, they agreed to come to each other’s aid in this wise: that if more than seven men set upon either of the twain, he should howl in wolfish fashion so loud that his companion would hear him. So each went his way, and in time Siegmund met with a band of men who set upon him with spears; but he gave forth a deep, far-sounding howl that brought his fellow-wolf at once to aid him. Still in his wolfish shape, Sinfiotli killed every one of the men who had attacked Siegmund, and once more the friends parted. Before he had gone far into the woods again, Sinfiotli was suddenly surprised by eleven men with stout hunting gear; but so fiercely did he fight that in a short time the whole number were lying dead upon the ground.

As Sinfiotli, weary from the battle, lay under an oak tree, Siegmund came to him, and seeing all the dead men, straightway asked, “Why did you not howl to me for help?” And Sinfiotli answered, “I was loath to call on you for the killing of only eleven men.” Then a sudden wolfish anger came over Siegmund, and he sprang upon Sinfiotli and bit him in the throat. But as soon as he saw his friend lying dead, he sorrowed greatly, and strove to bear the body on his back to the earth-house. The following day, as he lay at the door of the dwelling, he saw two weasels fighting, and one of them bit the other so that he died. Then the destroyer ran into a thicket and returned with a leaf in his mouth which he laid on the wound of the dead weasel. To Siegmund’s surprise, it immediately sprang up well and whole. Then a raven flew overhead with a leaf of the same herb in his mouth, and this he dropped just at the werewolf’s feet. So Siegmund took the leaf and laid it on Sinfiotli’s wound, and he at once came to life again. Then the two waited until the day on which the enchantment was ended and they might cast off their wolf shapes. On this day they took the skins and burned them in the fire, that no further harm might come to any man through taking them.

Now by the time Sinfiotli had grown into manhood, Siegmund felt that the hour had come for avenging the death of the Volsungs, for he had tried the lad fully, and found no fear in him. So on a certain day they both left the earth-house and came late in the evening to King Siggeir’s palace. They had no mind to walk at once into the king’s presence, so they hid themselves among some casks of ale which were heaped up in the hall. While they lay thus hidden, Signy was aware of their coming; and as the king sat drinking deep she came out to them and spoke softly with them. Then they plotted together how they should slay King Siggeir, but the queen dared not stay long with them lest some servant should see her and tell it to the king.

Now that very night as the two children of Signy and the king were playing with a ball, one of the rings came off, and, rolling out into the hall, glided among the casks of ale. The children ran eagerly after it, but when they spied the two grim and well-armed men among the casks, they ran screaming to their father and told him what they had seen. Then the king grew fearful that some evil was awaiting him; and as he sat not knowing what to do, Signy led the children into the hall and said to her brother: “See, these two have betrayed you. Kill them, therefore.” But Siegmund answered, “Never will I slay thy children for telling where I lay hid.” Hardly had he spoken these words when Sinfiotli drew his sword and killed both the children. Then he took up the bodies and cast them at King Siggeir’s feet. This sight roused such wrath in the king that he forgot his fear and ordered his men to seize hold upon the strangers and bind them with fetters.

So Siegmund and Sinfiotli were set upon by a great company of the king’s men, but they fought so hard and bravely that many bodies lay dead all around them, and those who were wounded long remembered this night’s fighting. At last the strangers were overpowered and bound with strong chains. Then King Siggeir had them cast into a dungeon, while he pondered all through the night as to what form of death he could mete out to them. In the morning he had a great pit dug, and in the midst of it he stood on end a flat stone that reached from one side of the pit to the other, but was so high that none could climb over it. Then he set Siegmund in the pit on one side of the flat stone, and Sinfiotli on the other, and bade his men cover over the pit with turf, that they might be buried alive. But while the servants were laying on the turf, Signy came by with a bundle of straw in her arms. This she threw into the pit to Sinfiotli, and bade the servants say no word of it to the king. Then the covering of turf was laid on, and Signy went her way again.

As soon as he judged the night had come, Sinfiotli unwrapped the bundle of straw to make himself a bed; and as he groped through the bale in the darkness he found a great lump of swine’s flesh. This he tore eagerly apart, for King Siggeir had given the captives naught to eat since they were taken prisoners. Then as he was rending the flesh in pieces, his fingers suddenly closed upon some hard steel; and when he drew it forth he found in his hand a sword. It was Siegmund’s sword, the gift of Odin, which Signy had concealed in the straw unknown to the king. Sinfiotli uttered a cry of joy, and grasping the hilt firmly, he drove the point of the sword into the great rock that divided him from Siegmund. So fierce a blow did he deal that the sword cut through the stone up to the hilt; and by means of the great rent which it made, the two captives were able to speak with each other. Then Siegmund grasped the blade of the sword, and together he and Sinfiotli worked all night until they had cut the great stone in half. When dawn came, they had sawed so fiercely that the sword-blade glowed in the darkness of the pit; and yet the keenness of its edge had never dulled. Soon Siegmund had cut a way through the turf and stones that covered the pit; and he and Sinfiotli stood together in front of King Siggeir’s palace. There was no sound within, for all were yet asleep; so Siegmund and Sinfiotli crept softly into the hall carrying wood in their arms; and this they placed in great piles around the sleepers. Then they kindled a fire which spread quickly through the dry leaves and wood; and the smell of it awoke the sleeping men, who looked about and wondered why so thick a smoke was filling the hall. Soon the king was wakened by the loud screams of the women, and when he saw the smoke and flame he cried out,—

“Who has kindled this fire in which I burn?”

And Siegmund answered him from without the hall, “It is I, Siegmund the Volsung, with Sinfiotli, my sister’s son; and now thou mayst know at last that all of my race are not dead.”

Then he closed and barred the palace doors that none might escape, but first he begged Signy to come quickly out of the hall lest she should perish in the flames. And when she did not come, he offered her rich gifts and a place of honour among her own people; but Signy stood by the king’s side and answered:—

“I have kept well in memory the slaying of the Volsungs, and that it was King Siggeir who wrought the shameful deed. I sent two of my sons into the forest to learn how to avenge the wrong, and then came unto thee Sinfiotli who is a Volsung and none of King Siggeir’s race. I also bade thee kill my young children, since their words had betrayed thee. For this and naught else have I wrought all these years that Siggeir might get his bane at last. Now vengeance has fallen upon him, but let the end come also to me, for merrily will I die with King Siggeir, though I was not merry to wed with him.”

So Signy perished in the fire with her husband, and many died with them that the wrath of Siegmund the Volsung might be satisfied. Then he gathered together a great company of folk, and filled many ships with the treasures of King Siggeir, and with Sinfiotli he set sail for his own land. When he reached the country of the Volsungs, he found that a neighbouring king had usurped the throne, and was reigning in the old king’s stead. Siegmund drove him from the country and himself took the throne of his father, where he ruled thereafter for many years. He and Sinfiotli waged war with other kings, and their fame spread abroad throughout the land. None could equal them in strength and valour, and of all the Volsungs King Siegmund bade fair to be greatest in renown.

As Regin spoke these last words, he turned to the youth at his side and smiled when he saw the glow of pride that shone in Siegfried’s face as the master spoke of the brave deeds of the Volsungs.

“Shall I tell you the rest of the tale, and of how the sword of Odin failed your father in his need?” he asked, knowing well the answer Siegfried would make. Then the youth laid new coals on the fire; and the master resumed the oft-told tale.