a representation of the
Crucifixion, and beneath this the woman bruising the serpent's head.
In the former sculptures the monster is shown with two heads; here it
has only one, and that is being destroyed. Christ is conquering the
powers of evil on the cross. In another fragment at Gosforth we see
Thor fishing for the Midgard worm, the offspring of Loki, a serpent
cast into the sea which grows continually and threatens the world with
destruction. A bull's head is the bait which Thor uses, but fearing
for the safety of his boat, he has cut the fishing-line and released
the monstrous worm; giant whales sport in the sea which afford pastime
to the mighty Thor. Such are some of the strange tales which these
crosses tell.

There is an old Viking legend inscribed on the cross at Leeds. Volund,
who is the same mysterious person as our Wayland Smith, is seen
carrying off a swan-maiden. At his feet are his hammer, anvil,
bellows, and pincers. The cross was broken to pieces in order to make
way for the building of the old Leeds church hundreds of years ago,
but the fragments have been pieced together, and we can see the
swan-maiden carried above the head of Volund, her wings hanging down
and held by two ropes that encircle her waist. The smith holds her by
her back hair and by the tail of her dress. There were formerly
several other crosses which have been broken up and used as building
material.

At Halton, Lancashire, there is a curious cross of inferior
workmanship, but it records the curious mingling of Pagan and
Christian ideas and the triumph of the latter over the Viking deities.
On one side we see emblems of the Four Evangelists and the figures of
saints; on the other are scenes from the Sigurd legend. Sigurd sits at
the anvil with hammer and tongs and bellows, forging a sword. Above
him is shown the magic blade completed, with hammer and tongs, while
Fafni writhes in the knotted throes that everywhere signify his death.
Sigurd is seen toasting Fafni's heart on a spit. He has placed the
spit on a rest, and is turning it with one hand, while flames ascend
from the faggots beneath. He has burnt his finger and is putting it to
his lips. Above are the interlacing boughs of a sacred tree, and sharp
eyes may detect the talking pies that perch thereon, to which Sigurd
is listening. On one side we see the noble horse Grani coming
riderless home to tell the tale of Sigurd's death, and above is the
pit with its crawling snakes t