The Story of the Volsungs

CHAPTER XVII. Of Sigurd’s Avenging of Sigmund his Father.

Now Sig­urd went to the kings, and spake thus –

“Here have I abode a space with you, and I owe you thanks and re­ward, for great love and many gifts and all due hon­our; but now will I away from the land and go meet the sons of Hund­ing, and do them to wit that the Vol­sungs are not all dead; and your might would I have to strength­en me there­in.”

So the kings said that they would give him all things so­ev­er that he de­sired, and there­with was a great army got ready, and all things wrought in the most heed­ful wise, ships and all war-​gear, so that his jour­ney might be of the stateliest: but Sig­urd him­self steered the drag­on-​keel which was the great­est and no­blest; rich­ly wrought were their sails, and glo­ri­ous to look on.

So they sail and have wind at will; but when a few days were over­past, there arose a great storm on the sea, and the waves were to be­hold even as the foam of men’s blood; but Sig­urd bade take in no sail, how­so­ev­er they might be riv­en, but rather to lay on high­er than hereto­fore. But as they sailed past the rocks of a ness, a cer­tain man hailed the ships, and asked who was cap­tain over that navy; then was it told him that the chief and lord was Sig­urd, the son of Sig­mund, the most famed of all the young men who now are.

Then said the man, “Naught but one thing, certes do all say of him, that none among the sons of kings may be likened un­to him; now fain were I that ye would short­en sail on some of the ships, and take me aboard.”

Then they asked him of his name, and he sang –

“Hnikar I hight, When I glad­dened Hug­inn, And went to bat­tle, Bright son of Vol­sung; Now may ye call The carl on the cliff top, Feng or Fjol­nir: Fain would I with you.”

They made for land there­with, and took that man aboard.

Then quoth Sig­urd,(1) as the song says –

“Tell me this, O Hnikar, Since full well thou know­est Fate of Gods, good and ill of mankind, What best our hap fore­sheweth, When amid the bat­tle About us sweeps the sword edge.”

Quoth Hnikar –

“Good are many to­kens If there­of men wot­ted When the swords are sweep­ing: Fair fel­low deem I The dark-​winged raven, In war, to weapon-​wield­er.

“The sec­ond good thing: When abroad thou goest For the long road well ar­rayed, Good if thou seest Two men stand­ing, Fain of fame with­in the fore­court.

“A third thing: Good hear­ing, The wolf a howl­ing Abroad un­der ash boughs; Good hap shalt thou have Deal­ing with helm-​staves, If thou seest these fare be­fore thee.

“No man in fight His face shall turn Against the moon’s sis­ter Low, late-​shin­ing, For he win­neth bat­tle Who best be­hold­eth Through the mid­most sword-​play, And the slop­ing ranks best shapeth.

“Great is the trou­ble Of foot ill-​trip­ping, When ar­rayed for fight thou farest, For on both sides about Are the Disir (2) by thee, Guile­ful, wish­ful of thy wound­ing.

“Fair-​combed, well washen Let each war­rior be, Nor lack meat in the morn­ing, For who can rule The eve’s re­turn­ing, And base to fall be­fore fate grov­el­ling.”

Then the storm abat­ed, and on they fared till they came aland in the realm of Hund­ing’s sons, and then Fjol­nir van­ished away.

Then they let loose fire and sword, and slew men and burnt their abodes, and did waste all be­fore them: a great com­pa­ny of folk fled be­fore the face of them to Lyn­gi the King, and tell him that men of war are in the land, and are far­ing with such rage and fury that the like has nev­er been heard of; and that the sons of King Hund­ing had no great fore­cast in that they said they would nev­er fear the Vol­sungs more, for here was come Sig­urd, the son of Sig­mund, as cap­tain over this army.

So King Lyn­gi let send the war-​mes­sage all through­out his realm, and has no will to flee, but sum­mons to him all such as would give him aid. So he came against Sig­urd with a great army, he and his broth­ers with him, and an ex­ceed­ing fierce fight be­fell; many a spear and many an ar­row might men see there raised aloft, ax­es hard driv­en, shields cleft and byrnies torn, hel­mets were shiv­ered, skulls split at­wain, and many a man felled to the cold earth.

And now when the fight has long dured in such wise, Sig­urd goes forth be­fore the ban­ners, and has the good sword Gram in his hand, and smites down both men and hors­es, and goes through the thick­est of the throng with both arms red with blood to the shoul­der; and folk shrank aback be­fore him where­so­ev­er he went, nor would ei­ther helm or byrny hold be­fore him, and no man deemed he had ev­er seen his like. So a long while the bat­tle last­ed, and many a man was slain, and fu­ri­ous was the on­set; till at last it be­fell, even as sel­dom comes to hand, when a land army falls on, that, do what­so they might, naught was brought about; but so many men fell of the sons of Hund­ing that the tale of them may not be told; and now whenas Sig­urd was among the fore­most, came the sons of Hund­ing against him, and Sig­urd smote there­with at Lyn­gi the king, and clave him down, both helm and head, and mail- clad body, and there­after he smote Hjor­ward his broth­er at­wain, and then slew all the oth­er sons of Hund­ing who were yet alive, and the more part of their folk with­al.

Now home goes Sig­urd with fair vic­to­ry won, and plen­teous wealth and great hon­our, which he had got­ten to him in this jour­ney, and feasts were made for him against he came back to the realm.

But when Sig­urd had been at home but a lit­tle, came Re­gin to talk with him, and said –

“Be­like thou wilt now have good will to bow down Fafnir’s crest ac­cord­ing to thy word plight­ed, since thou hast thus re­venged thy fa­ther and the oth­ers of thy kin.”

Sig­urd an­swered, “That will we hold to, even as we have promised, nor did it ev­er fall from our mem­ory.”

END­NOTES: (1) This and vers­es fol­low­ing were in­sert­ed from the “Re­gins­mal” by the trans­la­tors. (2) “Disir”, sing. “Dis”. These are the guardian be­ings who fol­low a man from his birth to his death. The word orig­inal­ly means sis­ter, and is used through­out the Ed­da­ic po­ems as a dig­ni­fied syn­onym for wom­an, la­dy.