Volsung did not long remain childless, for ten stalwart sons and one lovely daughter, Signy, came to brighten his home. As soon as this maiden reached marriageable years, many suitors asked for her hand, which was finally pledged to Siggeir, King of the Goths, whom, however, she had never seen.
The wedding of Signy.
The wedding day came, and when the bride first beheld her destined groom she shrank back in dismay, for his puny form and lowering glances contrasted oddly with her brothers’ strong frames and frank faces. But it was too late to withdraw,—the family honor was at stake,—and Signy so successfully concealed her dislike that none except her twin brother Sigmund suspected how reluctantly she became Siggeir’s wife.
The sword in the Branstock.
The wedding feast was held as usual, and when the merrymakings had reached their height the guests were startled by the sudden entrance of a tall, one-eyed man, closely enveloped in a mantle of cloudy blue. Without vouchsafing word or glance to any in the assembly, the stranger strode up to the Branstock and thrust a glittering sword up to the hilt in its great bole. Then, turning slowly around, he faced the awe-struck assembly, and in the midst of the general silence declared that the weapon would belong to the warrior who could pull it out, and that it would assure him victory in every battle. These words ended, he passed out and disappeared, leaving an intimate conviction in the minds of all the guests that Odin, king of the gods, had been in their midst.
“So sweet his speaking sounded, so wise his words did seem,
That moveless all men sat there, as in a happy dream
We stir not lest we waken; but there his speech had end,
And slowly down the hall-floor and outward did he wend;
And none would cast him a question or follow on his ways,