The Story of the Volsungs

CHAPTER XXIV. Sigurd sees Brynhild at Hlymdale.

In those days came home to Heimir, Bryn­hild, his fos­ter daugh­ter, and she sat in her bow­er with her maid­ens, and could do more skill in handy­craft than oth­er wom­en; she sat, over­lay­ing cloth with gold, and sewing there­in the great deeds which Sig­urd had wrought, the slay­ing of the Worm, and the tak­ing of the wealth of him, and the death of Re­gin with­al.

Now tells the tale, that on a day Sig­urd rode in­to the wood with hawk, and hound, and men throng­ing; and whenas he came home his hawk flew up to a high tow­er and sat him down on a cer­tain win­dow. Then fared Sig­urd af­ter his hawk, and he saw where sat a fair wom­an, and knew that it was Bryn­hild, and he deems all things he sees there to be wor­thy to­geth­er, both her fair­ness, and the fair things she wrought: and there­with he goes in­to the hall, but has no more joy­ance in the games of the men folk.

Then spake Al­swid, “Why art thou so bare of bliss; this man­ner of thine grieveth us thy friends; why then wilt thou not hold to thy glee­some ways? Lo, thy hawks pine now, and thy horse Grani droops; and long will it be ere we are boot­ed there­of?”

Sig­urd an­swered, “Good friend, hear­ken to what lies on my mind; for my hawk flew up in­to a cer­tain tow­er; and when I came there­to and took him, lo there I saw a fair wom­an, and she sat by a needle­work of gold, and did there­on, my deeds that are passed, and my deeds that are to come,”

Then said Al­swid, “Thou has seen Bryn­hild, Budli’s daugh­ter, the great­est of great wom­en.”

“Yea, ver­ily,” said Sig­urd; “but how came she hith­er?”

Aswid an­swered, “Short space there was be­twixt the com­ing hith­er of the twain of you.”

Says Sig­urd, “Yea, but a few, days agone I knew her for the best of the world’s wom­en.”

Al­swid said, “Give not all thine heed to one wom­an, be­ing such a man as thou art; ill life to sit lament­ing for what we may not have.”

“I shall go meet her,” says Sig­urd, “and get from her love like my love, and give her a gold ring in to­ken there­of.”

Al­swid an­swered, “None has ev­er yet been known whom she would let sit be­side her, or to whom she would give drink; for ev­er will she hold to war­fare and to the win­ning of all kinds of fame.”

Sig­urd said, “We know not for sure whether she will give us an­swer or not, or grant us a seat be­side her.”

So the next day af­ter, Sig­urd went to the bow­er, but Al­swid stood out­side the bow­er door, fit­ting shafts to his ar­rows.

Now Sig­urd spake, “Abide, fair and hale la­dy, — how farest thou?”

She an­swered, “Well it fares; my kin and my friends live yet: but who shall say what good­hap folk may bear to their life’s end?”

He sat him down by her, and there came in four damsels with great gold­en beakers, and the best of wine there­in; and these stood be­fore the twain.

Then said Bryn­hild, “This seat is for few, but and if my fa­ther come.”

He an­swered, “Yet is it grant­ed to one that likes me well.”

Now that cham­ber was hung with the best and fairest of hang­ing, and the floor there­of was all cov­ered with cloth.

Sig­urd spake, “Now has it come to pass even as thou didst promise.”

“O be thou wel­come here!” said she, and arose there with, and the four damsels with her, and bore the gold­en beaker to him, and bade him drink; he stretched oui his hand to the beaker, and took it, and her hand with­al, and drew her down be­side him; and cast his arms round about her neck and kissed her, and said –

“Thou art the fairest that was ev­er born!”

But Bryn­hild said, “Ah, wis­er is it not to cast faith and troth in­to a wom­an’s pow­er, for ev­er shall they break that they have promised.”

He said, “That day would dawn the best of days over our heads where­on each of each should be made hap­py.”

Bryn­hild an­swered, “It is not fat­ed that we should abide to­geth­er; I am a shield-​may, and wear helm on head even as the kings of war, and them full oft I help, nei­ther is the bat­tle be­come loath­some to me.”

Sig­urd an­swered, “What fruit shall be of our life, if we live not to­geth­er: hard­er to bear this pain that lies here­un­der, than the stroke of sharp sword.”

Bryn­hild an­swers, “I shall gaze on the hosts of the war kings, but thou shalt wed Gu­drun, the daugh­ter of Giu­ki.”

Sig­urd an­swered, “What king’s daugh­ter lives to be­guile me? Nei­ther am I dou­ble-​heart­ed here­in; and now I swear by the Gods that thee shall I have for mine own, or no wom­an else.

And even such­like wise spake she.

8ig­urd thanked her for her speech, and gave her a gold ring, and now they swore oath anew, and so he went his ways to his men, and is with them awhile in great bliss.