SIGURD
SIGURD FINDS A FRIEND IN HIS STEPMOTHER.
In olden times there lived a king and queen who had an only son called Sigurd. All went happily until the boy was about ten years old, and then the queen became very ill and died. According to the custom of that land, her body was embalmed and placed on a funeral pile, and there it was watched by the king, who sat day after day beside it in inconsolable grief.
Time went on, but he refused to leave the funeral pile, and all the business of the kingdom came to a standstill, for the sovereign gave no heed to what went on around him, and the courtiers had one and all failed to influence him.
At last one day he raised his eyes from the ground and looked towards the great pine forest that stretched away as far as you could see round the palace, and there, under the trees, coming towards him, he saw a most beautiful woman, her tall figure clothed in costly black robes.
“Who are you?” he asked, as she drew near.
“My name is Injibjörg,” she answered, in a low, sweet voice. “Why are you sitting here alone?”
“Because the queen is dead, and my heart is filled with sorrow.”
“Alas! I can sympathize with you in your grief,” she replied. “I, too, lost my husband only yesterday, and now I am alone in the world.”
The king for the first time began to be interested in something. Here was a person as sad as himself. They soon began talking like old friends, and in the end decided that, as they were both so lonely, it would be a wise thing for them to marry. The king invited her to return with him to the palace, and in a few days the wedding took place, amid the rejoicings of the people at the return of their sovereign once more to everyday life and work.
Under the wise influence of Injibjörg the king soon regained his usual health and spirits. He began to take up the neglected affairs of the kingdom, and rode out constantly hunting and fishing, attended by his court. And Sigurd? In his stepmother the boy found a true friend, who cared for him with a real mother’s love, and made his life full of sunshine. They were inseparable companions, and people would stop and watch them as they passed along the roads, or played together in the palace gardens, saying, “Ah, the good stepmother! See how she loves the poor motherless boy.” They were a pretty picture—the fair-haired, handsome little prince, and the beautiful tall woman, with her gracious manners and winning smile.
And thus their lives went happily on until Sigurd was almost a youth and as tall as his stepmother.
One evening Sigurd and Injibjörg were returning to the palace from a long stroll. The sun was lighting up the stems of the pine trees as they walked along beneath them. He had noticed for some days that his mother, as he loved to call her, appeared sad and out of spirits, but to-day the deepest depression seemed to possess her. As they drew near home, she laid her hand lovingly on the boy’s arm.
“My son, your father goes hunting to-morrow. It is my wish that you go with him and leave me alone for a day.”
“But, mother, why? You are sad, I see; my place is surely with you. I love hunting, as you know, but I cannot leave you thus.”
And all her persuasions were in vain.
Next morning the king set out, but the young prince remained with his stepmother, in spite of all she could say.
“Alas! alas!” she said, when they were left alone, “why did you disobey my wishes? I fear me that you will repent it sorely.”
Then she led Sigurd to her own room, and told him to hide under her bed until she called him forth. Directly he was safely hidden, the ground began to tremble, there was a terrific noise like thunder, and out of a great fissure appeared a huge giantess. Her feet were buried in the earth up to her ankles, for she was too tall to stand upright in the room. Through a small aperture in the hangings of the great bed, Sigurd watched to see what would happen.
“A pleasant greeting to you, Sister Injibjörg!” he heard the giantess say. “Is Sigurd, the king’s son, at home?”
“No,” replied Injibjörg. “He has gone hunting with his father.”
Then the queen spread the table for her terrible giant sister, with rich and dainty dishes. When the meal was at an end, the giantess said, “I thank you for the nicest food and the best drink of mead that I have yet tasted. Is Sigurd, the king’s son, at home?”
Again Injibjörg said no. So the giantess took leave of her and departed; the floor closed up, and all was quiet once more. Then the queen called Sigurd, embraced him with the greatest affection, and, after a short time, regained her usual cheerfulness.
When the king returned in the evening from the chase, neither the queen nor Sigurd told him what had happened during his absence.
The next morning he declared his intention of going out hunting in a still further part of the kingdom, and once more Injibjörg tried to persuade the boy to go with his father. Her persuasions were useless. He was more than ever determined to stay with her, hoping, in some unforeseen way, that he might be of use; for that there was some dreadful mystery about the giantess, he was sure.
This time, directly the king left, Injibjörg put the prince into a large press, and as she turned away, he saw tears in her eyes, and guessed that she feared some terrible new visitor. And he was right. Hardly had she closed the door when the noises of yesterday were renewed; the ground quaked, and a still greater giantess appeared, her feet buried in the floor up to her knees to allow of her entering the room.
“A pleasant greeting to you, Sister Injibjörg,” she cried. “Is Sigurd, the king’s son, at home?”
“No,” said Injibjörg. “How should he be, when the king, his father, is hunting far from the palace?”
And, as yesterday, she immediately began to spread the table with delicacies. When the meal was over, the giantess took her leave, saying, “I thank thee for the best food and most refreshing draught of ale that I have yet tasted. Is Sigurd, the king’s son, at home?”
Again Injibjörg said no, and in a few moments she was alone, and all was quiet.
Then Sigurd came out of the press, and once more his mother clasped him in her arms, and he heard her say to herself, “My son, my son! if I can but save him once more, all may yet be well.”
With tears she entreated him, for her sake, to go away with his father the next day.
“Twice I have hidden you successfully, but my third sister comes to-morrow, and she is sharper and fiercer than either of the others. If I can save you this time, they will never come again. My son, leave me this once. Even if they do me harm I shall know that you are safe.”
“Mother,” Sigurd answered, “I am no longer a little child. If you are in danger at all, my place is with you. And I am sure that your sister cannot do me any real harm.”
HE WRESTLES WITH THE GIANT SISTERS.
All that evening she tried her utmost to alter his decision, and also the next morning, for now the day had come, and brought with it a presage of evil. But nothing would move Sigurd.
Directly the king had ridden forth, Injibjörg concealed the prince behind some thick hangings on the wall. The earth quaked, terrible noises were heard, and a gigantic woman appeared, fiercer and stronger than either of the others, and so huge that only half her body rose out of the floor.
“A pleasant greeting to you, Sister Injibjörg,” she cried, in a harsh, terrible voice. “Is Sigurd, the king’s son, at home?”
“No,” replied Injibjörg, in a faltering voice. “He is hunting with his father in the woods.”
“I see you lie!” roared the giantess. “The boy is here;” and she seized the queen, and began to shake her violently. But, as Injibjörg continued to protest that the prince was not at home, she relaxed her hold, and the table was spread as usual with beautiful dishes. When the meal was ended, the giantess rose. “I thank you for the best meal I have ever tasted,” she said. “Is Sigurd, the king’s son, at home?”
“No,” replied Injibjörg. “Have I not already answered you?”
“Aha!” cried the giantess, her wicked, malicious laugh making the rafters ring. “Then if he be so far away, my words can do him no harm. But should he be within hearing, I decree that half of his body shall wither up, and he shall never recover until he has sought and found me. And you, my sister, be thankful if a worse fate does not overtake you.”
And, with another peal of mocking laughter, she disappeared.
Trembling from head to foot, the queen went to find her son; but, alas! when she led him forth from his hiding-place, the curse had fallen upon him, and his left side was shrunk and withered.
“Sigurd, Sigurd,” she cried, holding him close, and weeping bitterly. “See what has happened because you would not leave me. Better far that I should have suffered than that this should have fallen upon you. Alas! alas! what shall we do?”
“Mother,” he answered bravely, “there is but one thing—I must seek your sister, as she said, and perhaps, in doing that, I may chance to free you also from their dread visits for ever. Tell me what I must do to find her, and let me depart at once, before my father returns, lest he see me like this, and be angry with you. I grieve to leave you; but it is best, I know. Watch for my return day by day, dear mother, and give me your blessing before I go. Your love will make me strong to bear all that may lie before me.”
Then Injibjörg took a large ball of wool out of a chest and gave it to her son, with three golden rings.
“As soon as you let this ball fall to the ground,” she said, “it will go on rolling till it reaches some rocks. Follow it till it stops, and one of the giantesses will come forth. Do not lose heart. Do whatever she wishes you to. She will draw you up on to the rock where she stands, and you must salute her, and present her with the smallest ring. When she sees the gold she will be delighted, and will challenge you to wrestle with her. When you get exhausted she will offer you a drink out of a horn; and I have prayed that the strength of that magic draught will make you the victor in the wrestling match, so that she will allow you to depart next day. My other two sisters will behave in the same manner; but be brave and fearless, and remember what I tell you. One thing, dear son, keep ever in your mind, as you love me. If at any time my dog comes suddenly to you, puts his paws on your knees, and looks up at you, while tears run down his face, hasten home, let nothing stay you, for my life will be in danger. Do not forget your step-mother Injibjörg.”
Many times Sigurd embraced the queen before he at length left her on his dangerous journey. And as he looked back for a last farewell, he saw her tall, graceful figure still standing watching him at the entrance of the palace. He knew she was wondering if she should ever see her beloved son again. And his heart was very heavy at leaving her in such grief.
Directly he was out of sight of the palace, he threw the ball on the ground, and eagerly followed its winding course.
Towards sunset he found himself in a wild and rocky region, and at length the ball led him to the foot of a precipitous rock, on the summit of which sat the first giantess.
“Aha!” she cried, “this is splendid! Here is Sigurd, the king’s son. He shall be my meal to-night. Come up, comrade! Come hither! Thou art not afraid of a woman, I feel sure.”
With these mocking words she reached down a long boat-hook, and drew him up beside her. Sigurd greeted her bravely, and presented her with the smallest of the golden rings. When she saw the gold, the giantess was delighted. “Ah! now thou shalt wrestle with me,” she cried.
And they began. Sigurd fought bravely, and when she saw him getting tired she gave him a draught of mead, which made him so strong that he came off victor in the end, and she let him go.
The next day, bidding her farewell, he again followed the ball till it reached another high rock. There sat the second giantess.
She greeted the youth in the same fashion as her sister, pulled him up beside her, and was so delighted at the gift of the ring, that she, too, offered to wrestle with Sigurd for the victory before making her meal off him.
Again, as he got exhausted, he was offered a drink of mead from a huge horn, and was able to throw his opponent to the ground with one hand.
On the third day Sigurd rose with a lighter heart—only one more foe to meet, and then the victory would be won: his mother freed from the hateful dominion of her sisters, and he himself restored to his usual appearance. As he looked at his withered arm and leg, he vowed to use every effort to become victor.
HIS MEETING WITH HELGA.
It was early morning when Sigurd left the home of the second giantess, but night had nearly fallen before his ball stopped at the foot of the highest rock he had yet come to. On the summit stood the huge figure he had last seen on that fatal day at the palace; her head seemed to touch the clouds, and a terrible smile played on her lips as she looked down at the prince.
“Aha! So you have followed me, as I said. Up, comrade, up! You shall have your wish, and see how you like a contest with me in person.”
But Sigurd’s heart did not fail him. “Draw me up,” he said; “I have a message for you from my stepmother, Queen Injibjörg.”
Then the giantess drew him up, as her sisters had done, and he presented the last and largest of the golden rings. This pleased her immensely, and she proposed that they should at once wrestle for the victory, without waiting any longer. Sigurd exerted his utmost strength, feeling that on this combat all his future happiness depended; and just when he thought he could hold out no longer, the giantess reached him a horn of mead, which, as before, gave him supernatural strength, and he forced her to her knees.
In a moment he felt that his withered side was healed. The glow of perfect health came over him, and he could have sung aloud and danced for joy.
“Thou hast conquered, Sigurd, the king’s son,” the giantess said—“conquered in fair fight. I am no longer thine enemy; my power over thee is gone for ever. Now, go forth. Not far from here is a lake. There thou wilt see a maiden rocking herself in a boat. Give her this small ring, and it will be of use to thee. Thou art a brave youth, and I have done that for thee which I would not do for any one else. Thy strength is now fully restored to thee, and thou shalt succeed in all thine undertakings.”
With grateful thanks, Sigurd bade her farewell, and took his way to the lake she had told him of. All through the night he went on, and when the morning sun arose he saw the glitter of its rays on the water. As he reached the shore he beheld a lovely girl in a tiny green-and-gold boat, gently rocking herself to and fro on the waves, close to the edge of the water.
Sigurd approached, doffed his cap, and ventured to ask her name.
“My name is Helga,” she said, “and I live yonder with my father,”—pointing to a castle in the distance.
Then Sigurd showed her the ring he had received from the giantess.
“I have come all this way to give it to you,” he said; “fate has decreed that we are to be great friends. Will you accept it, and wear it always?”
“I have no friends,” Helga answered. “I will gladly have you for one, and wear your ring.”
So he placed it on her finger, and they rowed in the little boat, and wandered about the woods on the shores of the lake, until the sun began to sink behind the hills.
“Alas!” cried Helga, as she saw the slanting rays, “it is getting late; I must away home.”
“I will come too,” Sigurd answered.
“No, no,” she cried, in a terrified voice. “My father allows no stranger to enter our home. He would certainly kill you if he found you. No, you must not come.” And she set off running.
Sigurd ran too, and came up with her just as they reached the door. Helga put out her hand, the one which bore the ring he had given her, to stop him. In a moment, the young prince had disappeared, and where he had stood there was now only a huge bundle of wool. Helga then realized that the ring he had given her was a magic one, which she must use for his protection. She at once lifted up the bundle of wool in her arms, carried it into the castle hall, and threw it up on a high shelf.
At that instant her father came striding in—he was a giant of great size. Taking no notice of his daughter, he began searching in all the corners, and finding nothing, cried out in an angry voice: “Where has he gone? What was that I saw you carrying, child?”
“Only a bundle of wool, father,” Helga answered, as fearlessly as she could.
“Ah, it must have been that; but I thought I saw some one with you,” he muttered, and soon after retired to his room. The next morning, when Helga went out as usual, she carried the bundle of wool with her, and when she reached the boat, she touched it with her ring, and Sigurd regained his natural form. They rowed to a more distant part of the lake, and spent another happy day together.
Sigurd told Helga all about his stepmother, and his love for her.
“I owe everything to her kindness,” he said, “and I shall never be really happy till I have finished this journey and returned to her. Even when I am with you I dread lest evil may have overtaken her in my absence. But the giantess sent me here for some end, which I must wait to perform. My mother is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, except you.”
Helga, in her turn, told him of her lonely life with her fierce old father, and of how she had always longed to have some one of her own age as a companion.
“But what shall I do when I am left alone again?” she asked, with tears in her eyes.
“Be comforted,” Sigurd said, as he took her hand in his. “I must return to my stepmother, but I will come again, and take you away with me to my own home.”
As they returned, Helga said: “To-morrow we shall have more freedom, for my father goes to a great gathering of giants, and I will show you over the castle in his absence.” When they reached the house, Helga touched him with her ring, and once again Sigurd became a bundle of wool, and passed the night on a shelf in the hall.
Next morning, almost at break of day, Helga’s father departed, and Sigurd was enabled to resume his natural form at once. They walked and talked for some time, and then Sigurd reminded Helga of her promise to show him over the castle. She produced a huge bunch of keys, and together they passed through room after room, each one more beautiful than the last.
“And what is that key for?” asked the prince, pointing to a very strange one, which Helga had not yet used.
“That is my father’s secret room. The key is of a different pattern to all the others.”
“It is, indeed. But surely you will not refuse to let me see that room also?” And as he spoke, they passed to a door strongly studded with great iron nails. He entreated Helga not to refuse his request. “This, I am sure, is the door.”
“Yes, you are right. But if I open the door you must only just peep in, for I myself am terrified to go inside.”
“Nothing can hurt you while you are with me,” Sigurd said, placing his arm round her; and, with trembling fingers, Helga fitted the key into the massive lock, and opened the door a couple of inches. But Sigurd pushed it wide open and boldly stood in the doorway. There he saw a magnificent horse, richly caparisoned, eating golden hay, while, suspended to the rafters above its head, hung a sword sheathed in gold, with these words engraved on the hilt—
Whoever mounts this horse, and is armed with this sword, good luck will ride with him.
Sigurd entreated Helga to let him ride the horse once round the castle, and to carry the sword in his hand. At first Helga would not hear of it. Something terrible would happen, she felt sure. But the young prince pleaded so irresistibly, that at last he won her reluctant consent. The horse, she told him, was called Gullfaxi, “the golden mane;” the sword, Gunnfjöden, “fighting blade.”
HIS ESCAPE ON THE WONDERFUL HORSE GULLFAXI.
Sigurd led the beautiful steed outside the castle, took down the sword, and had just mounted, when Helga came running to him with something in her hand.
“Here, I give you a green branch, a stone, and a stick,” she said, “else I fear that you may get into trouble. Listen carefully to what I tell you. If, when you are mounted on the horse, an enemy should follow you and threaten to take your life, you have only to throw down the green branch as you ride along, and immediately a dense forest will grow up behind you. Should the enemy still attempt to follow, you have only to strike the stick on the white stone, and a terrible hailstorm will kill all who come after you.”
As she finished speaking, and Sigurd gathered up the reins to start off, Helga gave a cry of terror. Striding over the brow of the hill, she saw the huge form of her father.
“Fly! fly!” she said. “Use the steed for your own protection; it is your only chance of life. Save yourself, for my sake.”
Raising his cap in farewell to his young hostess, Sigurd set spurs to Gullfaxi, and as the noble animal put forth his full speed, the prince turned in the saddle and shook his fist at the angry giant.
Without staying to question his daughter, the giant strode after his horse, breathing out threats of vengeance. At first he could only just keep them in sight; but, with his gigantic strides, he soon began to gain upon them when the ground grew rocky and hilly. Then Sigurd threw down Helga’s green branch, and immediately a thick forest rose between him and his enemy.
But the giant seized his axe, and began with mighty strokes to hew his way through the wood. Crash went trees and bushes; crash, crash, to right and to left, and when Sigurd looked back a second time, the giant was through the forest, and close behind him. Then Sigurd touched the white stone with his stick, and immediately such a terrible hailstorm broke loose behind him that the giant was killed on the spot, while Sigurd rode on in bright sunshine.
The giant dead, Sigurd thought he would return and fetch Helga; but while he was debating which road to take, he saw his stepmother’s dog running towards him. The dog was dusty and footsore, and whined piteously as he drew near. Sigurd dismounted, and went to meet him; the dog put his paws upon the prince’s knee, and looked up at him with tears running down his face. Then Sigurd’s heart was very heavy, for he knew misfortune was threatening his beloved stepmother. He leapt on to his horse, and rode at full speed, taking no rest, either by day or night, till at length he came out of the thick pinewoods, and saw the palace before him. In the courtyard a great crowd was assembled, and there, fastened to a stake, and surrounded by huge faggots, he saw the graceful figure of his stepmother.
“Here is Sigurd—Sigurd, the king’s lost son,” he heard voices say, as if in a dream, as he galloped furiously on.
He, however, saw nothing but the beautiful pale face of the queen as he leaped from his horse, and pushed his way through the crowd, sword in hand. He cut the bands with which Injibjörg was fastened, scattered the guards, and carried her into the palace, to his father’s room.
There he found the king lying on his couch, sick unto death for grief at the loss of his son.
“My father,” Sigurd cried, as he stood before him with his arm round his stepmother, “what is this that has been done? Why has my mother been treated thus in my absence?”
“My son,” his father cried, hardly believing that he saw him alive and well before him, “where hast thou been? The people declared the queen had taken thy life, and she was therefore condemned to death, while I was too ill to save her from their vengeance. Forgive me, Sigurd, and beg the queen also to pardon me;” and he embraced them both with the utmost affection.
Then Sigurd related all his adventures, and how he had freed Injibjörg for ever from the hateful power of her sisters. His love for his stepmother was greater than ever, as he heard of all that she had suffered in his absence. He was not happy now when she was out of his sight, and he tried in every way to make up to her for what had passed. He told her, too, of Helga in the castle by the lake; and when she was quite restored to health, he set out, with her blessing and that of his father, to fetch the maiden to his home, as he had promised.
Helga was rejoiced to see Sigurd again, for she had watched for him day by day. They brought away all the treasures of the castle, and in a short time there was a magnificent wedding between Helga and Sigurd, the marriage feast lasting a whole month.
When the king died, Sigurd and Helga came to the throne, and, guided by the wise counsels of Injibjörg, the kingdom became renowned far and near for its good rule and the happiness of its people.
