Part 7 (1/2)

But now when the kings were departed, from the King's house Hiordis went, And before men joined the battle she came to a woody bent, Where she lay with one of her maidens the death and the deeds to behold.

In the noon sun shone King Sigmund as an image all of gold, And he stood before the foremost and the banner of his fame, And many a thing he remembered, and he called on each earl by his name To do well for the house of the Volsungs, and the ages yet unborn.

Then he tossed up the sword of the Branstock, and blew on his father's horn, Dread of so many a battle, doom-song of so many a man.

Then all the earth seemed moving as the hosts of Lyngi ran On the Volsung men and the Isle-folk like wolves upon the prey; But sore was their labour and toil ere the end of their harvesting day.

On went the Volsung banners, and on went Sigmund before, And his sword was the flail of the tiller on the wheat of the wheat-thras.h.i.+ng floor, And his s.h.i.+eld was rent from his arm, and his helm was sheared from his head: But who may draw nigh him to smite for the heap and the rampart of dead?

White went his hair on the wind like the ragged drift of the cloud, And his dust-driven, blood-beaten harness was the death-storm's angry shroud, When the summer sun is departing in the first of the night of wrack; And his sword was the cleaving lightning, that smites and is hurried aback Ere the hand may rise against it; and his voice was the following thunder.

Then cold grew the battle before him, dead-chilled with the fear and the wonder: For again in his ancient eyes the light of victory gleamed; From his mouth grown tuneful and sweet the song of his kindred streamed; And no more was he worn and weary, and no more his life seemed spent: And with all the hope of his childhood was his wrath of battle blent; And he thought: A little further, and the river of strife is pa.s.sed, And I shall sit triumphant the king of the world at last.

But lo, through the hedge of the war-shafts a mighty man there came, One-eyed and seeming ancient, but his visage shone like flame: Gleaming-grey was his kirtle, and his hood was cloudy blue; And he bore a mighty twi-bill, as he waded the fight-sheaves through, And stood face to face with Sigmund, and upheaved the bill to smite.

Once more round the head of the Volsung fierce glittered the Branstock's light, The sword that came from Odin; and Sigmund's cry once more Rang out to the very heavens above the din of war.

Then clashed the meeting edges with Sigmund's latest stroke, And in s.h.i.+vering shards fell earthward that fear of worldly folk.

But changed were the eyes of Sigmund, and the war-wrath left his face; For that grey-clad mighty helper was gone, and in his place Drave on the unbroken spear-wood 'gainst the Volsung's empty hands: And there they smote down Sigmund, the wonder of all lands, On the foemen, on the death-heap his deeds had piled that day.

Ill hour for Sigmund's fellows! they fall like the seeded hay Before the brown scythes' sweeping, and there the Isle-king fell In the fore-front of his battle, wherein he wrought right well, And soon they were nought but foemen who stand upon their feet On the isle-strand by the ocean where the gra.s.s and the sea-sand meet.

And now hath the conquering War-king another deed to do, And he saith: ”Who now gainsayeth King Lyngi come to woo, The lord and the overcomer and the bane of the Volsung kin?”

So he fares to the Isle-king's dwelling a wife of the kings to win; And the host is gathered together, and they leave the field of the dead; And round as a targe of the Goth-folk the moon ariseth red.

And so when the last is departed, and she deems they will come not aback, Fares Hiordis forth from the thicket to the field of the fateful wrack, And half-dead was her heart for sorrow as she waded the swathes of the sword.

Not far did she search the death-field ere she found her king and lord On the heap that his glaive had fas.h.i.+oned: not yet was his spirit past, Though his hurts were many and grievous, and his life-blood ebbing fast; And glad were his eyes and open as her wan face over him hung, And he spake: ”Thou art sick with sorrow, and I would thou wert not so young; Yet as my days pa.s.sed shall thine pa.s.s; and a short while now it seems Since my hand first gripped the sword-hilt, and my glory was but in dreams.”

She said: ”Thou livest, thou livest! the leeches shall heal thee still.”

”Nay,” said he, ”my heart hath hearkened to Odin's bidding and will; For today have mine eyes beheld him: nay, he needed not to speak: Forsooth I knew of his message and the thing he came to seek.

And now do I live but to tell thee of the days that are yet to come: And perchance to solace thy sorrow; and then will I get me home To my kin that are gone before me. Lo, yonder where I stood The shards of a glaive of battle that was once the best of the good: Take them and keep them surely. I have lived no empty days; The Norns were my nursing mothers; I have won the people's praise.

When the G.o.ds for one deed asked me I ever gave them twain; Spendthrift of glory I was, and great was my life-days' gain; Now these shards have been my fellow in the work the G.o.ds would have, But today hath Odin taken the gift that once he gave.

I have wrought for the Volsungs truly, and yet have I known full well That a better one than I am shall bear the tale to tell: And for him shall these shards be smithied; and he shall be my son To remember what I have forgotten and to do what I left undone.

Under thy girdle he lieth, and how shall I say unto thee, Unto thee, the wise of women, to cherish him heedfully.

Now, wife, put by thy sorrow for the little day we have had; For in sooth I deem thou weepest: The days have been fair and glad: And our valour and wisdom have met, and thou knowest they shall not die: Sweet and good were the days, nor yet to the Fates did we cry For a little longer yet, and a little longer to live: But we took, we twain in our meeting, all gifts that they had to give: Our wisdom and valour have kissed, and thine eyes shall see the fruit, And the joy for his days that shall be hath pierced mine heart to the root.

Grieve not for me; for thou weepest that thou canst not see my face How its beauty is not departed, nor the hope of mine eyes grown base.

Indeed I am waxen weary; but who heedeth weariness That hath been day-long on the mountain in the winter weather's stress, And now stands in the lighted doorway and seeth the king draw nigh, And heareth men dighting the banquet, and the bed wherein he shall lie?”

Then failed the voice of Sigmund; but so mighty was the man, That a long while yet he lingered till the dusky night grew wan, And she sat and sorrowed o'er him, but no more a word he spake.

Then a long way over the sea-flood the day began to break; And when the sun was arisen a little he turned his head Till the low beams bathed his eyen, and there lay Sigmund dead.

And the sun rose up on the earth; but where was the Volsung kin And the folk that the G.o.ds had begotten the praise of all people to win?

_How King Sigmund the Volsung was laid in mound on the sea-side of the Isle-realm._

Now Hiordis looked from the dead, and her eyes strayed down to the sea, And a s.h.i.+elded s.h.i.+p she saw, and a war-dight company, Who beached the s.h.i.+p for the landing: so swift she fled away, And once more to the depth of the thicket, wherein her handmaid lay: And she said: ”I have left my lord, and my lord is dead and gone, And he gave me a charge full heavy, and here are we twain alone, And earls from the sea are landing: give me thy blue attire, And take my purple and gold and my crown of the sea-flood's fire, And be thou the wife of King Volsung when men of our names shall ask, And I will be the handmaid: now I bid thee to this task, And I pray thee not to fail me, because of thy faith and truth, And because I have ever loved thee, and thy mother fostered my youth.

Yea, because my womb is wealthy with a gift for the days to be.

Now do this deed for mine asking and the tale shall be told of thee.”

So the other nought gainsaith it and they s.h.i.+ft their raiment there: But well-spoken was the maiden, and a woman tall and fair.

Now the lord of those new-coming men was a king and the son of a king, King Elf the son of the Helper, and he sailed from war-faring And drew anigh to the Isle-realm and sailed along the strand; For the s.h.i.+pmen needed water and fain would go a-land; And King Elf stood hard by the tiller while the world was yet a-cold: Then the red sun lit the dawning, and they looked, and lo, behold!