been
kindly treated, O Queen."

Such was the history that Hiordis, the wife of King Sigmund, told to the
mother of Prince Alv.

Soon afterwards the child was born to her that was Sigmund's son. Sigurd
she named him. And after Sigurd was born the old King died and Prince
Alv became King in his stead. He married Hiordis, she of the ruddy hair,
the unflinching ways, and the high beauty, and he brought up her son
Sigurd in his house as his fosterson.

Sigurd, the son of Sigmund, before he came to warrior's age, was known
for his strength and his swiftness and for the fearlessness that shone
round him like a glow. "Mighty was the race he sprang from, the Volsung
race," men said, "but Sigurd will be as mighty as any that have gone
before him." He built himself a hut in the forest that he might hunt
wild beasts and live near to one who was to train him in many crafts.

This one was Regin, a maker of swords and a cunning man besides. It was
said of Regin that he was an Enchanter and that he had been in the world
for longer than the generations of men. No one remembered, nor no one's
father remembered, when Regin had come into that country. He taught
Sigurd the art of working in metals and he taught him, too, the lore of
other days. But ever as he taught him he looked at Sigurd strangely, not
as a man looks at his fellow, but as a lynx looks at a stronger beast.

One day Regin said to young Sigurd, "King Alv has thy father's treasure,
men say, and yet he treats thee as if thou wert thrall-born."

Now Sigurd knew that Regin said this that he might anger him and
thereafter use him to his own ends. He said, "King Alv is a wise and a
good King, and he would let me have riches if I had need of them."

"Thou dost go about as a footboy, and not as a King's son."

"Any day that it likes me I might have a horse to ride," Sigurd said.

"So thou dost say," said Regin, and he turned from Sigurd and went to
blow the fire of his smithy.

Sigurd was made angry and he threw down the irons on which he was
working and he ran to the horse-pastures by the great River. A herd of
horses was there, gray and black and roan and chestnut, the best of the
horses that King Alv possessed. As he came near to where the herd grazed
he saw a stranger near, an ancient but robust man, wearing a strange
cloak of blue and leaning on a staff to watch the horses. Sigurd, though
young, had seen Kings in their halls, but this man had a bearing that
was more