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diff --git a/6050-0.txt b/6050-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c6f7cd9 --- /dev/null +++ b/6050-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15740 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Roots of the Mountains, by William Morris + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Roots of the Mountains + + +Author: William Morris + + + +Release Date: July 29, 2014 [eBook #6050] +[This file was first posted on October 24, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROOTS OF THE MOUNTAINS*** + + +Transcribed from the 1896 Longmans, Green, and Co. edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + + THE ROOTS OF THE MOUNTAINS + WHEREIN IS TOLD SOMEWHAT OF + THE LIVES OF THE MEN OF BURG- + DALE THEIR FRIENDS THEIR + NEIGHBOURS THEIR FOEMEN AND + THEIR FELLOWS IN ARMS + + + BY WILLIAM MORRIS + + Whiles carried o’er the iron road, + We hurry by some fair abode; + The garden bright amidst the hay, + The yellow wain upon the way, + The dining men, the wind that sweeps + Light locks from off the sun-sweet heaps— + The gable grey, the hoary roof, + Here now—and now so far aloof. + How sorely then we long to stay + And midst its sweetness wear the day, + And ’neath its changing shadows sit, + And feel ourselves a part of it. + Such rest, such stay, I strove to win + With these same leaves that lie herein. + + LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. + LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY + MDCCCXCVI + + * * * * * + + _First Edition printed November_, 1889. + + 250 _copies were printed on Large Paper_. + + _Second Edition_, _February_, 1893. + + + + +_CONTENTS_. + + _Page_ + _Chapter I_. _Of Burgstead and its Folk and its 1 + Neighbours_ + _II_. _Of Face-of-god and his Kindred_ 12 + _III_. _They talk of divers matters in the Hall_ 18 + _IV_. _Face-of-god fareth to the Wood again_ 25 + _V_. _Face-of-god falls in with Menfolk on the 34 + Mountain_ + _VI_. _Of Face-of-god and those 39 + Mountain-dwellers_ + _VII_. _Face-of-god talketh with the Friend on the 50 + Mountain_ + _VIII_. _Face-of-god cometh home again to 57 + Burgstead_ + _IX_. _Those Brethren fare to the Yew-wood with 59 + the Bride_ + _X_. _New Tidings in the Dale_ 63 + _XI_. _Men make Oath at Burgstead on the Holy 69 + Boar_ + _XII_. _Stone-face telleth concerning the 74 + Wood-wights_ + _XIII_. _They fare to the hunting of the elk_ 78 + _XIV_. _Concerning Face-of-god and the Mountain_ 82 + _XV_. _Murder amongst the Folk of the 87 + Woodlanders_ + _XVI_. _The Bride speaketh with Face-of-god_ 93 + _XVII_. _The Token cometh from the Mountain_ 97 + _XVIII_. _Face-of-god talketh with the Friend in 105 + Shadowy Vale_ + _XIX_. _The fair Woman telleth Face-of-god of her 109 + Kindred_ + _XX_. _Those two together hold the Ring of the 124 + Earth-god_ + _XXI_. _Face-of-god looketh on the Dusky Men_ 141 + _XXII_. _Face-of-god cometh home to Burgstead_ 151 + _XXIII_. _Talk in the Hall of the House of the Face_ 162 + _XXIV_. _Face-of-god giveth that Token to the 165 + Bride_ + _XXV_. _Of the Gate-thing at Burgstead_ 170 + _XXVI_. _The Ending of the Gate-thing_ 183 + _XXVII_. _Face-of-god leadeth a Band through the 191 + Wood_ + _XXVIII_. _The Men of Burgdale meet the Runaways_ 202 + _XXIX_. _They bring the Runaways to Burgstead_ 216 + _XXX_. _Hall-face goeth toward Rose-dale_ 225 + _XXXI_. _Of the Weapon-show of the Men of Burgdale 231 + and their Neighbours_ + _XXXII_. _The Men of Shadowy Vale come to the Spring 239 + Market at Burgstead_ + _XXXIII_. _The Alderman gives Gifts to them of 251 + Shadowy Vale_ + _XXXIV_. _The Chieftains take counsel in the Hall of 255 + the Face_ + _XXXV_. _Face-of-god talketh with the Sun-beam_ 268 + _XXXVI_. _Folk-might speaketh with the Bride_ 275 + _XXXVII_. _Of the Folk-mote of the Dalesmen_, _the 282 + Shepherd-Folk_, _and the Woodland Carles_: + _the Banner of the Wolf displayed_ + _XXXVIII_. _Of the Great Folk-mote_: _Atonements 287 + given_, _and Men made sackless_ + _XXXIX_. _Of the Great Folk-mote_: _Men take rede of 292 + the War-faring_, _the Fellowship_, _and the + War-leader_. _Folk-might telleth whence + his People came_. _The Folk-mote sundered_ + _XL_. _Of the Hosting in Shadowy Vale_ 301 + _XLI_. _The Host departeth from Shadowy Vale_: 311 + _the first Day’s journey_ + _XLII_. _The Host cometh to the edges of 318 + Silver-dale_ + _XLIII_. _Face-of-god looketh on Silver-dale_: _the 322 + Bowmen’s battle_ + _XLIV_. _Of the Onslaught of the Men of the Steer_, 335 + _the Bridge_, _and the Bull_ + _XLV_. _Of Face-of-god’s Onslaught_ 343 + _XLVI_. _Men meet in the Market of Silver-stead_ 352 + _XLVII_. _The Kindreds win the Mote-house_ 363 + _XLVIII_. _Men sing in the Mote-house_ 367 + _XLIX_. _Dallach fareth to Rose-dale_: _Crow 372 + telleth of his Errand_: _the Kindreds eat + their meat in Silver-dale_ + _L_. _Folk-might seeth the Bride and speaketh 378 + with her_ + _LI_. _The Dead borne to bale_: _the Mote-house 382 + re-hallowed_ + _LII_. _Of the new Beginning of good Days in 384 + Silver-dale_ + _LIII_. _Of the Word which Hall-ward of the Steer 386 + had for Folk-might_ + _LIV_. _Tidings of Dallach_: _a Folk-mote in 391 + Silver-dale_ + _LV_. _Departure from Silver-dale_ 394 + _LVI_. _Talk upon the Wild-wood Way_ 403 + _LVII_. _How the Host came home again_ 404 + _LVIII_. _How the Maiden Ward was held in Burgdale_ 409 + _LIX_. _The Behest of Face-of-god to the Bride 418 + accomplished_: _a Mote-stead appointed for + the three Folks_, _to wit_, _the Men of + Burgdale_, _the Shepherds_, _and the + Children of the Wolf_ + + + + +CHAPTER I. OF BURGSTEAD AND ITS FOLK AND ITS NEIGHBOURS. + + +ONCE upon a time amidst the mountains and hills and falling streams of a +fair land there was a town or thorp in a certain valley. This was +well-nigh encompassed by a wall of sheer cliffs; toward the East and the +great mountains they drew together till they went near to meet, and left +but a narrow path on either side of a stony stream that came rattling +down into the Dale: toward the river at that end the hills lowered +somewhat, though they still ended in sheer rocks; but up from it, and +more especially on the north side, they swelled into great shoulders of +land, then dipped a little, and rose again into the sides of huge fells +clad with pine-woods, and cleft here and there by deep ghylls: thence +again they rose higher and steeper, and ever higher till they drew dark +and naked out of the woods to meet the snow-fields and ice-rivers of the +high mountains. But that was far away from the pass by the little river +into the valley; and the said river was no drain from the snow-fields +white and thick with the grinding of the ice, but clear and bright were +its waters that came from wells amidst the bare rocky heaths. + +The upper end of the valley, where it first began to open out from the +pass, was rugged and broken by rocks and ridges of water-borne stones, +but presently it smoothed itself into mere grassy swellings and knolls, +and at last into a fair and fertile plain swelling up into a green wave, +as it were, against the rock-wall which encompassed it on all sides save +where the river came gushing out of the strait pass at the east end, and +where at the west end it poured itself out of the Dale toward the +lowlands and the plain of the great river. + +Now the valley was some ten miles of our measure from that place of the +rocks and the stone-ridges, to where the faces of the hills drew somewhat +anigh to the river again at the west, and then fell aback along the edge +of the great plain; like as when ye fare a-sailing past two nesses of a +river-mouth, and the main-sea lieth open before you. + +Besides the river afore-mentioned, which men called the Weltering Water, +there were other waters in the Dale. Near the eastern pass, entangled in +the rocky ground was a deep tarn full of cold springs and about two acres +in measure, and therefrom ran a stream which fell into the Weltering +Water amidst the grassy knolls. Black seemed the waters of that tarn +which on one side washed the rocks-wall of the Dale; ugly and aweful it +seemed to men, and none knew what lay beneath its waters save black +mis-shapen trouts that few cared to bring to net or angle: and it was +called the Death-Tarn. + +Other waters yet there were: here and there from the hills on both sides, +but especially from the south side, came trickles of water that ran in +pretty brooks down to the river; and some of these sprang bubbling up +amidst the foot-mounds of the sheer-rocks; some had cleft a rugged and +strait way through them, and came tumbling down into the Dale at diverse +heights from their faces. But on the north side about halfway down the +Dale, one stream somewhat bigger than the others, and dealing with softer +ground, had cleft for itself a wider way; and the folk had laboured this +way wider yet, till they had made them a road running north along the +west side of the stream. Sooth to say, except for the strait pass along +the river at the eastern end, and the wider pass at the western, they had +no other way (save one of which a word anon) out of the Dale but such as +mountain goats and bold cragsmen might take; and even of these but few. + +This midway stream was called the Wildlake, and the way along it +Wildlake’s Way, because it came to them out of the wood, which on that +north side stretched away from nigh to the lip of the valley-wall up to +the pine woods and the high fells on the east and north, and down to the +plain country on the west and south. + +Now when the Weltering Water came out of the rocky tangle near the pass, +it was turned aside by the ground till it swung right up to the feet of +the Southern crags; then it turned and slowly bent round again northward, +and at last fairly doubled back on itself before it turned again to run +westward; so that when, after its second double, it had come to flowing +softly westward under the northern crags, it had cast two thirds of a +girdle round about a space of land a little below the grassy knolls and +tofts aforesaid; and there in that fair space between the folds of the +Weltering Water stood the Thorp whereof the tale hath told. + +The men thereof had widened and deepened the Weltering Water about them, +and had bridged it over to the plain meads; and athwart the throat of the +space left clear by the water they had built them a strong wall though +not very high, with a gate amidst and a tower on either side thereof. +Moreover, on the face of the cliff which was but a stone’s throw from the +gate they had made them stairs and ladders to go up by; and on a knoll +nigh the brow had built a watch-tower of stone strong and great, lest war +should come into the land from over the hills. That tower was ancient, +and therefrom the Thorp had its name and the whole valley also; and it +was called Burgstead in Burgdale. + +So long as the Weltering Water ran straight along by the northern cliffs +after it had left Burgstead, betwixt the water and the cliffs was a wide +flat way fashioned by man’s hand. Thus was the water again a good +defence to the Thorp, for it ran slow and deep there, and there was no +other ground betwixt it and the cliffs save that road, which was easy to +bar across so that no foemen might pass without battle, and this road was +called the Portway. For a long mile the river ran under the northern +cliffs, and then turned into the midst of the Dale, and went its way +westward a broad stream winding in gentle laps and folds here and there +down to the out-gate of the Dale. But the Portway held on still +underneath the rock-wall, till the sheer-rocks grew somewhat broken, and +were cumbered with certain screes, and at last the wayfarer came upon the +break in them, and the ghyll through which ran the Wildlake with +Wildlake’s Way beside it, but the Portway still went on all down the Dale +and away to the Plain-country. + +That road in the ghyll, which was neither wide nor smooth, the wayfarer +into the wood must follow, till it lifted itself out of the ghyll, and +left the Wildlake coming rattling down by many steps from the east; and +now the way went straight north through the woodland, ever mounting +higher, (because the whole set of the land was toward the high fells,) +but not in any cleft or ghyll. The wood itself thereabout was thick, a +blended growth of diverse kinds of trees, but most of oak and ash; light +and air enough came through their boughs to suffer the holly and bramble +and eglantine and other small wood to grow together into thickets, which +no man could pass without hewing a way. But before it is told whereto +Wildlake’s Way led, it must be said that on the east side of the ghyll, +where it first began just over the Portway, the hill’s brow was clear of +wood for a certain space, and there, overlooking all the Dale, was the +Mote-stead of the Dalesmen, marked out by a great ring of stones, amidst +of which was the mound for the Judges and the Altar of the Gods before +it. And this was the holy place of the men of the Dale and of other folk +whereof the tale shall now tell. + +For when Wildlake’s Way had gone some three miles from the Mote-stead, +the trees began to thin, and presently afterwards was a clearing and the +dwellings of men, built of timber as may well be thought. These houses +were neither rich nor great, nor was the folk a mighty folk, because they +were but a few, albeit body by body they were stout carles enough. They +had not affinity with the Dalesmen, and did not wed with them, yet it is +to be deemed that they were somewhat akin to them. To be short, though +they were freemen, yet as regards the Dalesmen were they well-nigh their +servants; for they were but poor in goods, and had to lean upon them +somewhat. No tillage they had among those high trees; and of beasts +nought save some flocks of goats and a few asses. Hunters they were, and +charcoal-burners, and therein the deftest of men, and they could shoot +well in the bow withal: so they trucked their charcoal and their smoked +venison and their peltries with the Dalesmen for wheat and wine and +weapons and weed; and the Dalesmen gave them main good pennyworths, as +men who had abundance wherewith to uphold their kinsmen, though they were +but far-away kin. Stout hands had these Woodlanders and true hearts as +any; but they were few-spoken and to those that needed them not somewhat +surly of speech and grim of visage: brown-skinned they were, but +light-haired; well-eyed, with but little red in their cheeks: their women +were not very fair, for they toiled like the men, or more. They were +thought to be wiser than most men in foreseeing things to come. They +were much given to spells, and songs of wizardry, and were very mindful +of the old story-lays, wherein they were far more wordy than in their +daily speech. Much skill had they in runes, and were exceeding deft in +scoring them on treen bowls, and on staves, and door-posts and roof-beams +and standing-beds and such like things. Many a day when the snow was +drifting over their roofs, and hanging heavy on the tree-boughs, and the +wind was roaring through the trees aloft and rattling about the close +thicket, when the boughs were clattering in the wind, and crashing down +beneath the weight of the gathering freezing snow, when all beasts and +men lay close in their lairs, would they sit long hours about the +house-fire with the knife or the gouge in hand, with the timber twixt +their knees and the whetstone beside them, hearkening to some tale of old +times and the days when their banner was abroad in the world; and they +the while wheedling into growth out of the tough wood knots and blossoms +and leaves and the images of beasts and warriors and women. + +They were called nought save the Woodland-Carles in that day, though time +had been when they had borne a nobler name: and their abode was called +Carlstead. Shortly, for all they had and all they had not, for all they +were and all they were not, they were well-beloved by their friends and +feared by their foes. + +Now when Wildlake’s Way was gotten to Carlstead, there was an end of it +toward the north; though beyond it in a right line the wood was thinner, +because of the hewing of the Carles. But the road itself turned west at +once and went on through the wood, till some four miles further it first +thinned and then ceased altogether, the ground going down-hill all the +way: for this was the lower flank of the first great upheaval toward the +high mountains. But presently, after the wood was ended, the land broke +into swelling downs and winding dales of no great height or depth, with a +few scattered trees about the hillsides, mostly thorns or scrubby oaks, +gnarled and bent and kept down by the western wind: here and there also +were yew-trees, and whiles the hillsides would be grown over with +box-wood, but none very great; and often juniper grew abundantly. This +then was the country of the Shepherds, who were friends both of the +Dalesmen and the Woodlanders. They dwelt not in any fenced town or +thorp, but their homesteads were scattered about as was handy for water +and shelter. Nevertheless they had their own stronghold; for amidmost of +their country, on the highest of a certain down above a bottom where a +willowy stream winded, was a great earthwork: the walls thereof were high +and clean and overlapping at the entering in, and amidst of it was a deep +well of water, so that it was a very defensible place: and thereto would +they drive their flocks and herds when war was in the land, for nought +but a very great host might win it; and this stronghold they called +Greenbury. + +These Shepherd-Folk were strong and tall like the Woodlanders, for they +were partly of the same blood, but burnt they were both ruddy and brown: +they were of more words than the Woodlanders but yet not many-worded. +They knew well all those old story-lays, (and this partly by the +minstrelsy of the Woodlanders,) but they had scant skill in wizardry, and +would send for the Woodlanders, both men and women, to do whatso they +needed therein. They were very hale and long-lived, whereas they dwelt +in clear bright air, and they mostly went light-clad even in the winter, +so strong and merry were they. They wedded with the Woodlanders and the +Dalesmen both; at least certain houses of them did so. They grew no +corn; nought but a few pot-herbs, but had their meal of the Dalesmen; and +in the summer they drave some of their milch-kine into the Dale for the +abundance of grass there; whereas their own hills and bents and winding +valleys were not plenteously watered, except here and there as in the +bottom under Greenbury. No swine they had, and but few horses, but of +sheep very many, and of the best both for their flesh and their wool. +Yet were they nought so deft craftsmen at the loom as were the Dalesmen, +and their women were not very eager at the weaving, though they loathed +not the spindle and rock. Shortly, they were merry folk well-beloved of +the Dalesmen, quick to wrath, though it abode not long with them; not +very curious in their houses and halls, which were but little, and were +decked mostly with the handiwork of the Woodland-Carles their guests; who +when they were abiding with them, would oft stand long hours nose to +beam, scoring and nicking and hammering, answering no word spoken to them +but with aye or no, desiring nought save the endurance of the daylight. +Moreover, this shepherd-folk heeded not gay raiment over-much, but +commonly went clad in white woollen or sheep-brown weed. + +But beyond this shepherd-folk were more downs and more, scantily peopled, +and that after a while by folk with whom they had no kinship or affinity, +and who were at whiles their foes. Yet was there no enduring enmity +between them; and ever after war and battle came peace; and all +blood-wites were duly paid and no long feud followed: nor were the +Dalesmen and the Woodlanders always in these wars, though at whiles they +were. Thus then it fared with these people. + +But now that we have told of the folks with whom the Dalesmen had +kinship, affinity, and friendship, tell we of their chief abode, +Burgstead to wit, and of its fashion. As hath been told, it lay upon the +land made nigh into an isle by the folds of the Weltering Water towards +the uppermost end of the Dale; and it was warded by the deep water, and +by the wall aforesaid with its towers. Now the Dale at its widest, to +wit where Wildlake fell into it, was but nine furlongs over, but at +Burgstead it was far narrower; so that betwixt the wall and the wandering +stream there was but a space of fifty acres, and therein lay Burgstead in +a space of the shape of a sword-pommel: and the houses of the kinships +lay about it, amidst of gardens and orchards, but little ordered into +streets and lanes, save that a way went clean through everything from the +tower-warded gate to the bridge over the Water, which was warded by two +other towers on its hither side. + +As to the houses, they were some bigger, some smaller, as the housemates +needed. Some were old, but not very old, save two only, and some quite +new, but of these there were not many: they were all built fairly of +stone and lime, with much fair and curious carved work of knots and +beasts and men round about the doors; or whiles a wale of such-like work +all along the house-front. For as deft as were the Woodlanders with +knife and gouge on the oaken beams, even so deft were the Dalesmen with +mallet and chisel on the face of the hewn stone; and this was a great +pastime about the Thorp. Within these houses had but a hall and solar, +with shut-beds out from the hall on one side or two, with whatso of +kitchen and buttery and out-bower men deemed handy. Many men dwelt in +each house, either kinsfolk, or such as were joined to the kindred. + +Near to the gate of Burgstead in that street aforesaid and facing east +was the biggest house of the Thorp; it was one of the two abovesaid which +were older than any other. Its door-posts and the lintel of the door +were carved with knots and twining stems fairer than other houses of that +stead; and on the wall beside the door carved over many stones was an +image wrought in the likeness of a man with a wide face, which was +terrible to behold, although it smiled: he bore a bent bow in his hand +with an arrow fitted to its string, and about the head of him was a ring +of rays like the beams of the sun, and at his feet was a dragon, which +had crept, as it were, from amidst of the blossomed knots of the +door-post wherewith the tail of him was yet entwined. And this head with +the ring of rays about it was wrought into the adornment of that house, +both within and without, in many other places, but on never another house +of the Dale; and it was called the House of the Face. Thereof hath the +tale much to tell hereafter, but as now it goeth on to tell of the ways +of life of the Dalesmen. + +In Burgstead was no Mote-hall or Town-house or Church, such as we wot of +in these days; and their market-place was wheresoever any might choose to +pitch a booth: but for the most part this was done in the wide street +betwixt the gate and the bridge. As to a meeting-place, were there any +small matters between man and man, these would the Alderman or one of the +Wardens deal with, sitting in Court with the neighbours on the wide space +just outside the Gate: but if it were to do with greater matters, such as +great manslayings and blood-wites, or the making of war or ending of it, +or the choosing of the Alderman and the Wardens, such matters must be put +off to the Folk-mote, which could but be held in the place aforesaid +where was the Doom-ring and the Altar of the Gods; and at that Folk-mote +both the Shepherd-Folk and the Woodland-Carles foregathered with the +Dalesmen, and duly said their say. There also they held their great +casts and made offerings to the Gods for the Fruitfulness of the Year, +the ingathering of the increase, and in Memory of their Forefathers. +Natheless at Yule-tide also they feasted from house to house to be glad +with the rest of Midwinter, and many a cup drank at those feasts to the +memory of the fathers, and the days when the world was wider to them, and +their banners fared far afield. + +But besides these dwellings of men in the field between the wall and the +water, there were homesteads up and down the Dale whereso men found it +easy and pleasant to dwell: their halls were built of much the same +fashion as those within the Thorp; but many had a high garth-wall cast +about them, so that they might make a stout defence in their own houses +if war came into the Dale. + +As to their work afield; in many places the Dale was fair with growth of +trees, and especially were there long groves of sweet chestnut standing +on the grass, of the fruit whereof the folk had much gain. Also on the +south side nigh to the western end was a wood or two of yew-trees very +great and old, whence they gat them bow-staves, for the Dalesmen also +shot well in the bow. Much wheat and rye they raised in the Dale, and +especially at the nether end thereof. Apples and pears and cherries and +plums they had in plenty; of which trees, some grew about the borders of +the acres, some in the gardens of the Thorp and the homesteads. On the +slopes that had grown from the breaking down here and there of the +Northern cliffs, and which faced the South and the Sun’s burning, were +rows of goodly vines, whereof the folk made them enough and to spare of +strong wine both white and red. + +As to their beasts; swine they had a many, but not many sheep, since +herein they trusted to their trucking with their friends the Shepherds; +they had horses, and yet but a few, for they were stout in going afoot; +and, had they a journey to make with women big with babes, or with +children or outworn elders, they would yoke their oxen to their wains, +and go fair and softly whither they would. But the said oxen and all +their neat were exceeding big and fair, far other than the little beasts +of the Shepherd-Folk; they were either dun of colour, or white with black +horns (and those very great) and black tail-tufts and ear-tips. Asses +they had, and mules for the paths of the mountains to the east; geese and +hens enough, and dogs not a few, great hounds stronger than wolves, +sharp-nosed, long-jawed, dun of colour, shag-haired. + +As to their wares; they were very deft weavers of wool and flax, and made +a shift to dye the thrums in fair colours; since both woad and madder +came to them good cheap by means of the merchants of the plain country, +and of greening weeds was abundance at hand. Good smiths they were in +all the metals: they washed somewhat of gold out of the sands of the +Weltering Water, and copper and tin they fetched from the rocks of the +eastern mountains; but of silver they saw little, and iron they must buy +of the merchants of the plain, who came to them twice in the year, to wit +in the spring and the late autumn just before the snows. Their wares +they bought with wool spun and in the fleece, and fine cloth, and skins +of wine and young neat both steers and heifers, and wrought copper bowls, +and gold and copper by weight, for they had no stamped money. And they +guested these merchants well, for they loved them, because of the tales +they told them of the Plain and its cities, and the manslayings therein, +and the fall of Kings and Dukes, and the uprising of Captains. + +Thus then lived this folk in much plenty and ease of life, though not +delicately nor desiring things out of measure. They wrought with their +hands and wearied themselves; and they rested from their toil and feasted +and were merry: to-morrow was not a burden to them, nor yesterday a thing +which they would fain forget: life shamed them not, nor did death make +them afraid. + +As for the Dale wherein they dwelt, it was indeed most fair and lovely, +and they deemed it the Blessing of the Earth, and they trod its flowery +grass beside its rippled streams amidst its green tree-boughs proudly and +joyfully with goodly bodies and merry hearts. + + + + +CHAPTER II. OF FACE-OF-GOD AND HIS KINDRED. + + +TELLS the tale, that on an evening of late autumn when the weather was +fair, calm, and sunny, there came a man out of the wood hard by the +Mote-stead aforesaid, who sat him down at the roots of the Speech-mound, +casting down before him a roe-buck which he had just slain in the wood. +He was a young man of three and twenty summers; he was so clad that he +had on him a sheep-brown kirtle and leggings of like stuff bound about +with white leather thongs; he bore a short-sword in his girdle and a +little axe withal; the sword with fair wrought gilded hilts and a +dew-shoe of like fashion to its sheath. He had his quiver at his back +and bare in his hand his bow unstrung. He was tall and strong, very fair +of fashion both of limbs and face, white-skinned, but for the sun’s +tanning, and ruddy-cheeked: his beard was little and fine, his hair +yellow and curling, cut somewhat close, but for its length so plenteous, +and so thick, that none could fail to note it. He had no hat nor hood +upon his head, nought but a fillet of golden beads. + +As he sat down he glanced at the dale below him with a well-pleased look, +and then cast his eyes down to the grass at his feet, as though to hold a +little longer all unchanged the image of the fair place he had just seen. +The sun was low in the heavens, and his slant beams fell yellow all up +the dale, gilding the chestnut groves grown dusk and grey with autumn, +and the black masses of the elm-boughs, and gleaming back here and there +from the pools of the Weltering Water. Down in the midmost meadows the +long-horned dun kine were moving slowly as they fed along the edges of +the stream, and a dog was bounding about with exceeding swiftness here +and there among them. At a sharply curved bight of the river the man +could see a little vermilion flame flickering about, and above it a thin +blue veil of smoke hanging in the air, and clinging to the boughs of the +willows anear; about it were a dozen menfolk clear to see, some sitting, +some standing, some walking to and fro, but all in company together: four +of were brown-clad and short-skirted like himself, and from above the +hand of one came a flash of light as the sun smote upon the steel of his +spear. The others were long-skirted and clad gayer, and amongst them +were red and blue and green and white garments, and they were clear to be +seen for women. Just as the young man looked up again, those of them who +were sitting down rose up, and those that were strolling drew nigh, and +they joined hands together, and fell to dancing on the grass, and the dog +and another one with him came up to the dancers and raced about and +betwixt them; and so clear to see were they all and so little, being far +away, that they looked like dainty well-wrought puppets. + +The young man sat smiling at it for a little, and then rose up and +shouldered his venison, and went down into Wildlake’s Way, and presently +was fairly in the Dale and striding along the Portway beside the northern +cliffs, whose greyness was gilded yet by the last rays of the sun, though +in a minute or two it would go under the western rim. He went fast and +cheerily, murmuring to himself snatches of old songs; none overtook him +on the road, but he overtook divers folk going alone or in company toward +Burgstead; swains and old men, mothers and maidens coming from the field +and the acre, or going from house to house; and one or two he met but not +many. All these greeted him kindly, and he them again; but he stayed not +to speak with any, but went as one in haste. + +It was dusk by then he passed under the gate of Burgstead; he went +straight thence to the door of the House of the Face, and entered as one +who is at home, and need go no further, nor abide a bidding. + +The hall he came into straight out of the open air was long and somewhat +narrow and not right high; it was well-nigh dark now within, but since he +knew where to look, he could see by the flicker that leapt up now and +then from the smouldering brands of the hearth amidmost the hall under +the luffer, that there were but three men therein, and belike they were +even they whom he looked to find there, and for their part they looked +for his coming, and knew his step. + +He set down his venison on the floor, and cried out in a cheery voice: +‘Ho, Kettel! Are all men gone without doors to sleep so near the +winter-tide, that the Hall is as dark as a cave? Hither to me! Or art +thou also sleeping?’ + +A voice came from the further side of the hearth: ‘Yea, lord, asleep I +am, and have been, and dreaming; and in my dream I dealt with the +flesh-pots and the cake-board, and thou shalt see my dream come true +presently to thy gain.’ + +Quoth another voice: ‘Kettel hath had out that share of his dream already +belike, if the saw sayeth sooth about cooks. All ye have been away, so +belike he hath done as Rafe’s dog when Rafe ran away from the slain +buck.’ + +He laughed therewith, and Kettel with him, and a third voice joined the +laughter. The young man also laughed and said: ‘Here I bring the venison +which my kinsman desired; but as ye see I have brought it over-late: but +take it, Kettel. When cometh my father from the stithy?’ + +Quoth Kettel: ‘My lord hath been hard at it shaping the Yule-tide sword, +and doth not lightly leave such work, as ye wot, but he will be here +presently, for he has sent to bid us dight for supper straightway.’ + +Said the young man: ‘Where are there lords in the dale, Kettel, or hast +thou made some thyself, that thou must be always throwing them in my +teeth?’ + +‘Son of the Alderman,’ said Kettel, ‘ye call me Kettel, which is no name +of mine, so why should I not call thee lord, which is no dignity of +thine, since it goes well over my tongue from old use and wont? But here +comes my mate of the kettle, and the women and lads. Sit down by the +hearth away from their hurry, and I will fetch thee the hand-water.’ + +The young man sat down, and Kettel took up the venison and went his ways +toward the door at the lower end of the hall; but ere he reached it it +opened, and a noisy crowd entered of men, women, boys, and dogs, some +bearing great wax candles, some bowls and cups and dishes and trenchers, +and some the boards for the meal. + +The young man sat quiet smiling and winking his eyes at the sudden flood +of light let into the dark place; he took in without looking at this or +the other thing the aspect of his Fathers’ House, so long familiar to +him; yet to-night he had a pleasure in it above his wont, and in all the +stir of the household; for the thought of the wood wherein he had +wandered all day yet hung heavy upon him. Came one of the girls and cast +fresh brands on the smouldering fire and stirred it into a blaze, and the +wax candles were set up on the daïs, so that between them and the +mew-quickened fire every corner of the hall was bright. As aforesaid it +was long and narrow, over-arched with stone and not right high, the +windows high up under the springing of the roof-arch and all on the side +toward the street; over against them were the arches of the shut-beds of +the housemates. The walls were bare that evening, but folk were wont to +hang up hallings of woven pictures thereon when feasts and high-days were +toward; and all along the walls were the tenter-hooks for that purpose, +and divers weapons and tools were hanging from them here and there. +About the daïs behind the thwart-table were now stuck for adornment leavy +boughs of oak now just beginning to turn with the first frosts. High up +on the gable wall above the tenter-hooks for the hangings were carven +fair imagery and knots and twining stems; for there in the hewn atone was +set forth that same image with the rayed head that was on the outside +wall, and he was smiting the dragon and slaying him; but here inside the +house all this was stained in fair and lively colours, and the sun-like +rays round the head of the image were of beaten gold. At the lower end +of the hall were two doors going into the butteries, and kitchen, and +other out-bowers; and above these doors was a loft upborne by stone +pillars, which loft was the sleeping chamber of the goodman of the house; +but the outward door was halfway between the said loft and the hearth of +the hall. + +So the young man took the shoes from his feet and then sat watching the +women and lads arraying the boards, till Kettel came again to him with an +old woman bearing the ewer and basin, who washed his feet and poured the +water over his hands, and gave him the towel with fair-broidered ends to +dry them withal. + +Scarce had he made an end of this ere through the outer door came in +three men and a young woman with them; the foremost of these was a man +younger by some two years than the first-comer, but so like him that none +might misdoubt that he was his brother; the next was an old man with a +long white beard, but hale and upright; and lastly came a man of +middle-age, who led the young woman by the hand. He was taller than the +first of the young men, though the other who entered with him outwent him +in height; a stark carle he was, broad across the shoulders, thin in the +flank, long-armed and big-handed; very noble and well-fashioned of +countenance, with a straight nose and grey eyes underneath a broad brow: +his hair grown somewhat scanty was done about with a fillet of golden +beads like the young men his sons. For indeed this was their father, and +the master of the House. + +His name was Iron-face, for he was the deftest of weapon-smiths, and he +was the Alderman of the Dalesmen, and well-beloved of them; his kindred +was deemed the noblest of the Dale, and long had they dwelt in the House +of the Face. But of his sons the youngest, the new-comer, was named +Hall-face, and his brother the elder Face-of-god; which name was of old +use amongst the kindred, and many great men and stout warriors had borne +it aforetime: and this young man, in great love had he been gotten, and +in much hope had he been reared, and therefore had he been named after +the best of the kindred. But his mother, who was hight the Jewel, and +had been a very fair woman, was dead now, and Iron-face lacked a wife. + +Face-of-god was well-beloved of his kindred and of all the Folk of the +Dale, and he had gotten a to-name, and was called Gold-mane because of +the abundance and fairness of his hair. + +As for the young woman that was led in by Iron-face, she was the +betrothed of Face-of-god, and her name was the Bride. She looked with +such eyes of love on him when she saw him in the hall, as though she had +never seen him before but once, nor loved him but since yesterday; though +in truth they had grown up together and had seen each other most days of +the year for many years. She was of the kindred with whom the chiefs and +great men of the Face mostly wedded, which was indeed far away kindred of +them. She was a fair woman and strong: not easily daunted amidst perils +she was hardy and handy and light-foot: she could swim as well as any, +and could shoot well in the bow, and wield sword and spear: yet was she +kind and compassionate, and of great courtesy, and the very dogs and kine +trusted in her and loved her. Her hair was dark red of hue, long and +fine and plenteous, her eyes great and brown, her brow broad and very +fair, her lips fine and red: her cheek not ruddy, yet nowise sallow, but +clear and bright: tall she was and of excellent fashion, but well-knit +and well-measured rather than slender and wavering as the willow-bough. +Her voice was sweet and soft, her words few, but exceeding dear to the +listener. In short, she was a woman born to be the ransom of her Folk. + +Now as to the names which the menfolk of the Face bore, and they an +ancient kindred, a kindred of chieftains, it has been said that in times +past their image of the God of the Earth had over his treen face a mask +of beaten gold fashioned to the shape of the image; and that when the +Alderman of the Folk died, he to wit who served the God and bore on his +arm the gold-ring between the people and the altar, this visor or face of +God was laid over the face of him who had been in a manner his priest, +and therewith he was borne to mound; and the new Alderman and priest had +it in charge to fashion a new visor for the God; and whereas for long +this great kindred had been chieftains of the people, they had been, and +were all so named, that the word Face was ever a part of their names. + + + + +CHAPTER III. THEY TALK OF DIVERS MATTERS IN THE HALL. + + +NOW Face-of-god, who is also called Gold-mane, rose up to meet the +new-comers, and each of them greeted him kindly, and the Bride kissed him +on the cheek, and he her in likewise; and he looked kindly on her, and +took her hand, and went on up the hall to the daïs, following his father +and the old man; as for him, he was of the kindred of the House, and was +foster-father of Iron-face and of his sons both; and his name was +Stone-face: a stark warrior had he been when he was young, and even now +he could do a man’s work in the battlefield, and his understanding was as +good as that of a man in his prime. So went these and four others up on +to the daïs and sat down before the thwart-table looking down the hall, +for the meat was now on the board; and of the others there were some +fifty men and women who were deemed to be of the kindred and sat at the +endlong tables. + +So then the Alderman stood up and made the sign of the Hammer over the +meat, the token of his craft and of his God. Then they fell to with good +hearts, for there was enough and to spare of meat and drink. There was +bread and flesh (though not Gold-mane’s venison), and leeks and roasted +chestnuts of the grove, and red-cheeked apples of the garth, and honey +enough of that year’s gathering, and medlars sharp and mellow: moreover, +good wine of the western bents went up and down the hall in great gilded +copper bowls and in mazers girt and lipped with gold. + +But when they were full of meat, and had drunken somewhat, they fell to +speech, and Iron-face spake aloud to his son, who had but been speaking +softly to the Bride as one playmate to the other: but the Alderman said: +‘Scarce are the wood-deer grown, kinsman, when I must needs eat sheep’s +flesh on a Thursday, though my son has lain abroad in the woods all night +to hunt for me.’ + +And therewith he smiled in the young man’s face; but Gold-mane reddened +and said: ‘So is it, kinsman, I can hit what I can see; but not what is +hidden.’ + +Iron-face laughed and said: ‘Hast thou been to the Woodland-Carles? are +their women fairer than our cousins?’ + +Face-of-god took up the Bride’s hand in his and kissed it and laid it to +his cheek; and then turned to his father and said: ‘Nay, father, I saw +not the Wood-carles, nor went to their abode; and on no day do I lust +after their women. Moreover, I brought home a roebuck of the fattest; +but I was over-late for Kettel, and the flesh was ready for the board by +then I came.’ + +‘Well, son,’ quoth Iron-face, for he was merry, ‘a roebuck is but a +little deer for such big men as are thou and I. But I rede thee take the +Bride along with thee the next time; and she shall seek whilest thou +sleepest, and hit when thou missest.’ + +Then Face-of-god smiled, but he frowned somewhat also, and he said: ‘Well +were that, indeed! But if ye must needs drag a true tale out of me: that +roebuck I shot at the very edge of the wood nigh to the Mote-stead as I +was coming home: harts had I seen in the wood and its lawns, and boars, +and bucks, and loosed not at them: for indeed when I awoke in the morning +in that wood-lawn ye wot of, I wandered up and down with my bow unbent. +So it was that I fared as if I were seeking something, I know not what, +that should fill up something lacking to me, I know not what. Thus I +felt in myself even so long as I was underneath the black boughs, and +there was none beside me and before me, and none to turn aback to: but +when I came out again into the sunshine, and I saw the fair dale, and the +happy abode lying before me, and folk abroad in the meads merry in the +eventide; then was I full fain of it, and loathed the wood as an empty +thing that had nought to give me; and lo you! all that I had been longing +for in the wood, was it not in this House and ready to my hand?—and that +is good meseemeth.’ + +Therewith he drank of the cup which the Bride put into his hand after she +had kissed the rim, but when he had set it down again he spake once more: + +‘And yet now I am sitting honoured and well-beloved in the House of my +Fathers, with the holy hearth sparkling and gleaming down there before +me; and she that shall bear my children sitting soft and kind by my side, +and the bold lads I shall one day lead in battle drinking out of my very +cup: now it seems to me that amidst all this, the dark cold wood, wherein +abide but the beasts and the Foes of the Gods, is bidding me to it and +drawing me thither. Narrow is the Dale and the World is wide; I would it +were dawn and daylight, that I might be afoot again.’ + +And he half rose up from his place. But his father bent his brow on him +and said: ‘Kinsman, thou hast a long tongue for a half-trained whelp: nor +see I whitherward thy mind is wandering, but if it be on the road of a +lad’s desire to go further and fare worse. Hearken then, I will offer +thee somewhat! Soon shall the West-country merchants be here with their +winter truck. How sayest thou? hast thou a mind to fare back with them, +and look on the Plain and its Cities, and take and give with the +strangers? To whom indeed thou shalt be nothing save a purse with a few +lumps of gold in it, or maybe a spear in the stranger’s band on the +stricken field, or a bow on the wall of an alien city. This is a craft +which thou mayst well learn, since thou shalt be a chieftain; a craft +good to learn, however grievous it be in the learning. And I myself have +been there; for in my youth I desired sore to look on the world beyond +the mountains; so I went, and I filled my belly with the fruit of my own +desires, and a bitter meat was that; but now that it has passed through +me, and I yet alive, belike I am more of a grown man for having endured +its gripe. Even so may it well be with thee, son; so go if thou wilt; +and thou shalt go with my blessing, and with gold and wares and wain and +spearmen.’ + +‘Nay,’ said Face-of-god, ‘I thank thee, for it is well offered; but I +will not go, for I have no lust for the Plain and its Cities; I love the +Dale well, and all that is round about it; therein will I live and die.’ + +Therewith he fell a-musing; and the Bride looked at him anxiously, but +spake not. Sooth to say her heart was sinking, as though she foreboded +some new thing, which should thrust itself into their merry life. + +But the old man Stone-face took up the word and said: + +‘Son Gold-mane, it behoveth me to speak, since belike I know the +wild-wood better than most, and have done for these three-score and ten +years; to my cost. Now I perceive that thou longest for the wood and the +innermost of it; and wot ye what? This longing will at whiles entangle +the sons of our chieftains, though this Alderman that now is hath been +free therefrom, which is well for him. For, time was this longing came +over me, and I went whither it led me: overlong it were to tell of all +that befell me because of it, and how my heart bled thereby. So sorry +were the tidings that came of it, that now meseemeth my heart should be +of stone and not my face, had it not been for the love wherewith I have +loved the sons of the kindred. Therefore, son, it were not ill if ye +went west away with the merchants this winter, and learned the dealings +of the cities, and brought us back tales thereof.’ + +But Gold-mane cried out somewhat angrily, ‘I tell thee, foster-father, +that I have no mind for the cities and their men and their fools and +their whores and their runagates. But as for the wood and its wonders, I +have done with it, save for hunting there along with others of the Folk. +So let thy mind be at ease; and for the rest, I will do what the Alderman +commandeth, and whatso my father craveth of me.’ + +‘And that is well, son,’ said Stone-face, ‘if what ye say come to pass, +as sore I misdoubt me it will not. But well it were, well it were! For +such things are in the wood, yea and before ye come to its innermost, as +may well try the stoutest heart. Therein are Kobbolds, and Wights that +love not men, things unto whom the grief of men is as the sound of the +fiddle-bow unto us. And there abide the ghosts of those that may not +rest; and there wander the dwarfs and the mountain-dwellers, the dealers +in marvels, the givers of gifts that destroy Houses; the forgers of the +curse that clingeth and the murder that flitteth to and fro. There +moreover are the lairs of Wights in the shapes of women, that draw a +young man’s heart out of his body, and fill up the empty place with +desire never to be satisfied, that they may mock him therewith and waste +his manhood and destroy him. Nor say I much of the strong-thieves that +dwell there, since thou art a valiant sword; or of them who have been +made Wolves of the Holy Places; or of the Murder-Carles, the remnants and +off-scourings of wicked and wretched Folks—men who think as much of the +life of a man as of the life of a fly. Yet happiest is the man whom they +shall tear in pieces, than he who shall live burdened by the curse of the +Foes of the Gods.’ + +The housemaster looked on his son as the old carle spake, and a cloud +gathered on his face a while; and when Stone-face had made an end he +spake: + +‘This is long and evil talk for the end of a merry day, O fosterer! Wilt +thou not drink a draught, O Redesman, and then stand up and set thy +fiddle-bow a-dancing, and cause it draw some fair words after it? For my +cousin’s face hath grown sadder than a young maid’s should be, and my +son’s eyes gleam with thoughts that are far away from us and abroad in +the wild-wood seeking marvels.’ + +Then arose a man of middle-age from the top of the endlong bench on the +east side of the hall: a man tall, thin and scant-haired, with a nose +like an eagle’s neb: he reached out his hand for the bowl, and when they +had given to him he handled it, and raised it aloft and cried: + +‘Here I drink a double health to Face-of-god and the Bride, and the love +that lieth between them, and the love betwixt them twain and us.’ + +He drank therewith, and the wine went up and down the hall, and all men +drank, both carles and queens, with shouting and great joy. Then +Redesman put down the cup (for it had come into his hands again), and +reached his hand to the wall behind him, and took down his fiddle hanging +there in its case, and drew it out and fell to tuning it, while the hall +grew silent to hearken: then he handled the bow and laid it on the +strings till they wailed and chuckled sweetly, and when the song was well +awake and stirring briskly, then he lifted up his voice and sang: + + _The Minstrel saith_: + + ‘O why on this morning, ye maids, are ye tripping + Aloof from the meadows yet fresh with the dew, + Where under the west wind the river is lipping + The fragrance of mint, the white blooms and the blue? + + For rough is the Portway where panting ye wander; + On your feet and your gown-hems the dust lieth dun; + Come trip through the grass and the meadow-sweet yonder, + And forget neath the willows the sword of the sun. + + _The Maidens answer_: + + Though fair are the moon-daisies down by the river, + And soft is the grass and the white clover sweet; + Though twixt us and the rock-wall the hot glare doth quiver, + And the dust of the wheel-way is dun on our feet; + + Yet here on the way shall we walk on this morning + Though the sun burneth here, and sweet, cool is the mead; + For here when in old days the Burg gave its warning, + Stood stark under weapons the doughty of deed. + + Here came on the aliens their proud words a-crying, + And here on our threshold they stumbled and fell; + Here silent at even the steel-clad were lying, + And here were our mothers the story to tell. + + Here then on the morn of the eve of the wedding + We pray to the Mighty that we too may bear + Such war-walls for warding of orchard and steading, + That the new days be merry as old days were dear.’ + +Therewith he made an end, and shouts and glad cries arose all about the +hall; and an old man arose and cried: ‘A cup to the memory of the Mighty +of the Day of the Warding of the Ways.’ For you must know this song told +of a custom of the Folk, held in memory of a time of bygone battle, +wherein they had overthrown a great host of aliens on the Portway betwixt +the river and the cliffs, two furlongs from the gate of Burgstead. So +now two weeks before Midsummer those maidens who were presently to be +wedded went early in the morning to that place clad in very fair raiment, +swords girt to their sides and spears in their hands, and abode there on +the highway from morn till even as though they were a guard to it. And +they made merry there, singing songs and telling tales of times past: and +at the sunsetting their grooms came to fetch them away to the Feast of +the Eve of the Wedding. + +While the song was a-singing Face-of-god took the Bride’s hand in his and +caressed it, and was soft and blithe with her; and she reddened and +trembled for pleasure, and called to mind wedding feasts that had been, +and fair brides that she had seen thereat, and she forgot her fears and +her heart was at peace again. + +And Iron-face looked well-pleased on the two from time to time, and +smiled, but forbore words to them. + +But up and down the hall men talked with one another about things long +ago betid: for their hearts were high and they desired deeds; but in that +fair Dale so happy were the years from day to day that there was but +little to tell of. So deepened the night and waned, and Gold-mane and +the Bride still talked sweetly together, and at whiles kindly to the +others; and by seeming he had clean forgotten the wood and its wonders. + +Then at last the Alderman called for the cup of good-night, and men drank +thereof and went their ways to bed. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. FACE-OF-GOD FARETH TO THE WOOD AGAIN. + + +WHEN it was the earliest morning and dawn was but just beginning, +Face-of-god awoke and rose up from his bed, and came forth into the hall +naked in his shirt, and stood by the hearth, wherein the piled-up embers +were yet red, and looked about and could see nothing stirring in the +dimness: then he fetched water and washed the night-tide off him, and +clad himself in haste, and was even as he was yesterday, save that he +left his bow and quiver in their place and took instead a short +casting-spear; moreover he took a leathern scrip and went therewith to +the buttery, and set therein bread and flesh and a little gilded beaker; +and all this he did with but little noise; for he would not be +questioned, lest he should have to answer himself as well as others. + +Thus he went quietly out of doors, for the door was but latched, since no +bolts or bars or locks were used in Burgstead, and through the town-gate, +which stood open, save when rumours of war were about. He turned his +face straight towards Wildlake’s Way, walking briskly, but at whiles +looking back over his shoulder toward the East to note what way was made +by the dawning, and how the sky lightened above the mountain passes. + +By then he was come to the place where the Maiden Ward was held in the +summer the dawn was so far forward that all things had their due colours, +and were clear to see in the shadowless day. It was a bright morning, +with an easterly air stirring that drave away the haze and dried the +meadows, which had otherwise been rimy; for it was cold. Gold-mane +lingered on the place a little, and his eyes fell on the road, as dusty +yet as in Redesman’s song; for the autumn had been very dry, and the +strip of green that edged the outside of the way was worn and dusty also. +On the edge of it, half in the dusty road, half on the worn grass, was a +long twine of briony red-berried and black-leaved; and right in the midst +of the road were two twigs of great-leaved sturdy pollard oak, as though +they had been thrown aside there yesterday by women or children +a-sporting; and the deep white dust yet held the marks of feet, some +bare, some shod, crossing each other here and there. Face-of-god smiled +as he passed on, as a man with a happy thought; for his mind showed him a +picture of the Bride as she would be leading the Maiden Ward next summer, +and singing first among the singers, and he saw her as clearly as he had +often seen her verily, and before him was the fashion of her hands and +all her body, and the little mark on her right wrist, and the place where +her arm whitened, because the sleeve guarded it against the sun, which +had long been pleasant unto him, and the little hollow in her chin, and +the lock of red-brown hair waving in the wind above her brow, and shining +in the sun as brightly as the Alderman’s cunningest work of golden wire. +Soft and sweet seemed that picture, till he almost seemed to hear her +sweet voice calling to him, and desire of her so took hold of the youth, +that it stirred him up to go swiftlier as he strode on, the day +brightening behind him. + +Now was it nigh sunrise, and he began to meet folk on the way, though not +many; since for most their way lay afield, and not towards the Burg. The +first was a Woodlander, tall and gaunt, striding beside his ass, whose +panniers were laden with charcoal. The carle’s daughter, a little maiden +of seven winters, riding on the ass’s back betwixt the panniers, and +prattling to herself in the cold morning; for she was pleased with the +clear light in the east, and the smooth wide turf of the meadows, as one +who had not often been far from the shadow of the heavy trees of the +wood, and their dark wall round about the clearing where they dwelt. +Face-of-god gave the twain the sele of the day in merry fashion as he +passed them by, and the sober dark-faced man nodded to him but spake no +word, and the child stayed her prattle to watch him as he went by. + +Then came the sound of the rattle of wheels, and, as he doubled an angle +of the rock-wall, he came upon a wain drawn by four dun kine, wherein lay +a young woman all muffled up against the cold with furs and cloths; +beside the yoke-beasts went her man, a well-knit trim-faced Dalesman clad +bravely in holiday raiment, girt with a goodly sword, bearing a bright +steel helm on his head, in his hand a long spear with a gay red and white +shaft done about with copper bands. He looked merry and proud of his +wain-load, and the woman was smiling kindly on him from out of her +scarlet and fur; but now she turned a weary happy face on Gold-mane, for +they knew him, as did all men of the Dale. + +So he stopped when they met, for the goodman had already stayed his slow +beasts, and the goodwife had risen a little on her cushions to greet him, +yet slowly and but a little, for she was great with child, and not far +from her time. That knew Gold-mane well, and what was toward, and why +the goodman wore his fine clothes, and why the wain was decked with +oak-boughs and the yoke-beasts with their best gilded bells and +copper-adorned harness. For it was a custom with many of the kindreds +that the goodwife should fare to her father’s house to lie in with her +first babe, and the day of her coming home was made a great feast in the +house. So then Face-of-god cried out: ‘Hail to thee, O Warcliff! Shrewd +is the wind this morning, and thou dost well to heed it carefully, this +thine orchard, this thy garden, this thy fair apple-tree! To a good hall +thou wendest, and the Wine of Increase shall be sweet there this even.’ + +Then smiled Warcliff all across his face, and the goodwife hung her head +and reddened. Said the goodman: ‘Wilt thou not be with us, son of the +Alderman, as surely thy father shall be?’ + +‘Nay,’ said Face-of-god, ‘though I were fain of it: my own matters carry +me away.’ + +‘What matters?’ said Warcliff; ‘perchance thou art for the cities this +autumn?’ + +Face-of-god answered somewhat stiffly: ‘Nay, I am not;’ and then more +kindly, and smiling, ‘All roads lead not down to the Plain, friend.’ + +‘What road then farest thou away from us?’ said the goodwife. + +‘The way of my will,’ he answered. + +‘And what way is that?’ said she; ‘take heed, lest I get a longing to +know. For then must thou needs tell me, or deal with the carle there +beside thee.’ + +‘Nay, goodwife,’ said Face-of-god, ‘let not that longing take thee; for +on that matter I am even as wise as thou. Now good speed to thee and to +the new-comer!’ + +Therewith he went close up to the wain, and reached out his hand to her, +and she gave him hers and he kissed it, and so went his ways smiling +kindly on them. Then the carle cried to his kine, and they bent down +their heads to the yoke; and presently, as he walked on, he heard the +rumble of the wain mingling with the tinkling of their bells, which in a +little while became measured and musical, and sounded above the creaking +of the axles and the rattle of the gear and the roll of the great wheels +over the road: and so it grew thinner and thinner till it all died away +behind him. + +He was now come to where the river turned away from the sheer rock-wall, +which was not so high there as in most other places, as there had been in +old time long screes from the cliff, which had now grown together, with +the waxing of herbs and the washing down of the earth on to them, and +made a steady slope or low hill going down riverward. Over this the road +lifted itself above the level of the meadows, keeping a little way from +the cliffs, while on the other side its bank was somewhat broken and +steep here and there. As Face-of-god came up to one of these broken +places, the sun rose over the eastern pass, and the meadows grew golden +with its long beams. He lingered, and looked back under his hand, and as +he did so heard the voices and laughter of women coming up from the slope +below him, and presently a young woman came struggling up the broken bank +with hand and knee, and cast herself down on the roadside turf laughing +and panting. She was a long-limbed light-made woman, dark-faced and +black-haired: amidst her laughter she looked up and saw Gold-mane, who +had stopped at once when he saw her; she held out her hands to him, and +said lightly, though her face flushed withal: + +‘Come hither, thou, and help the others to climb the bank; for they are +beaten in the race, and now must they do after my will; that was the +forfeit.’ + +He went up to her, and took her hands and kissed them, as was the custom +of the Dale, and said: + +‘Hail to thee, Long-coat! who be they, and whither away this morning +early?’ + +She looked hard at him, and fondly belike, as she answered slowly: ‘They +be the two maidens of my father’s house, whom thou knowest; and our +errand, all three of us, is to Burgstead, the Feast of the Wine of +Increase which shall be drunk this even.’ + +As she spake came another woman half up the bank, to whom went +Face-of-god, and, taking her hands, drew her up while she laughed merrily +in his face: he saluted her as he had Long-coat, and then with a laugh +turned about to wait for the third; who came indeed, but after a little +while, for she had abided, hearing their voices. Her also Gold-mane drew +up, and kissed her hands, and she lay on the grass by Long-coat, but the +second maiden stood up beside the young man. She was white-skinned and +golden-haired, a very fair damsel, whereas the last-comer was but comely, +as were well-nigh all the women of the Dale. + +Said Face-of-god, looking on the three: ‘How comes it, maidens, that ye +are but in your kirtles this sharp autumn morning? or where have ye left +your gowns or your cloaks?’ + +For indeed they were clad but in close-fitting blue kirtles of fine wool, +embroidered about the hems with gold and coloured threads. + +The last-comer laughed and said: ‘What ails thee, Gold-mane, to be so +careful of us, as if thou wert our mother or our nurse? Yet if thou must +needs know, there hang our gowns on the thorn-bush down yonder; for we +have been running a match and a forfeit; to wit, that she who was last on +the highway should go down again and bring them up all three; and now +that is my day’s work: but since thou art here, Alderman’s son, thou +shalt go down instead of me and fetch them up.’ + +But he laughed merrily and outright, and said: ‘That will I not, for +there be but twenty-four hours in the day, and what between eating and +drinking and talking to fair maidens, I have enough to do in every one of +them. Wasteful are ye women, and simple is your forfeit. Now will I, +who am the Alderman’s son, give forth a doom, and will ordain that one of +you fetch up the gowns yourselves, and that Long-coat be the one; for she +is the fleetest-footed and ablest thereto. Will ye take my doom? for +later on I shall not be wiser.’ + +‘Yea,’ said the fair woman, ‘not because thou art the Alderman’s son, but +because thou art the fairest man of the Dale, and mayst bid us poor souls +what thou wilt.’ + +Face-of-god reddened at her words, and the speaker and the last-comer +laughed; but Long-coat held her peace: she cast one very sober look on +him, and then ran lightly down the bent; he drew near the edge of it, and +watched her going; for her light-foot slimness was fair to look on: and +he noted that when she was nigh the thorn-bush whereon hung the +bright-broidered gowns, and deemed belike that she was not seen, she +kissed both her hands where he had kissed them erst. + +Thereat he drew aback and turned away shyly, scarce looking at the other +twain, who smiled on him with somewhat jeering looks; but he bade them +farewell and departed speedily; and if they spoke, it was but softly, for +he heard their voices no more. + +He went on under the sunlight which was now gilding the outstanding +stones of the cliffs, and still his mind was set upon the Bride; and his +meeting with the mother of the yet unborn baby, and with the three women +with their freshness and fairness, did somehow turn his thought the more +upon her, since she was the woman who was to be his amongst all women, +for she was far fairer than any one of them; and through all manner of +life and through all kinds of deeds would he be with her, and know more +of her fairness and kindness than any other could: and him-seemed he +could see pictures of her and of him amidst all these deeds and ways. + +Now he went very swiftly; for he was eager, though he knew not for what, +and he thought but little of the things on which his eyes fell. He met +none else on the road till he was come to Wildlake’s Way, though he saw +folk enough down in the meadows; he was soon amidst the first of the +trees, and without making any stay set his face east and somewhat north, +that is, toward the slopes that led to the great mountains. He said to +himself aloud, as he wended the wood: ‘Strange! yestereven I thought much +of the wood, and I set my mind on not going thither, and this morning I +thought nothing of it, and here am I amidst its trees, and wending +towards its innermost.’ + +His way was easy at first, because the wood for a little space was all of +beech, so that there was no undergrowth, and he went lightly betwixt the +tall grey and smooth boles; albeit his heart was nought so gay as it was +in the dale amidst the sunshine. After a while the beech-wood grew +thinner, and at last gave out altogether, and he came into a space of +rough broken ground with nought but a few scrubby oaks and thorn-bushes +growing thereon here and there. The sun was high in the heavens now, and +shone brightly down on the waste, though there were a few white clouds +high up above him. The rabbits scuttled out of the grass before him; +here and there he turned aside from a stone on which lay coiled an adder +sunning itself; now and again both hart and hind bounded away from before +him, or a sounder of wild swine ran grunting away toward closer covert. +But nought did he see but the common sights and sounds of the woodland; +nor did he look for aught else, for he knew this part of the woodland +indifferent well. + +He held on over this treeless waste for an hour or more, when the ground +began to be less rugged, and he came upon trees again, but thinly +scattered, oak and ash and hornbeam not right great, with thickets of +holly and blackthorn between them. The set of the ground was still +steadily up to the east and north-east, and he followed it as one who +wendeth an assured way. At last before him seemed to rise a wall of +trees and thicket; but when he drew near to it, lo! an opening in a +certain place, and a little path as if men were wont to thread the tangle +of the wood thereby; though hitherto he had noted no slot of men, nor any +sign of them, since he had plunged into the deep of the beech-wood. He +took the path as one who needs must, and went his ways as it led. In +sooth it was well-nigh blind, but he was a deft woodsman, and by means of +it skirted many a close thicket that had otherwise stayed him. So on he +went, and though the boughs were close enough overhead, and the sun came +through but in flecks, he judged that it was growing towards noon, and he +wotted well that he was growing aweary. For he had been long afoot, and +the more part of the time on a rough way, or breasting a slope which was +at whiles steep enough. + +At last the track led him skirting about an exceeding close thicket into +a small clearing, through which ran a little woodland rill amidst rushes +and dead leaves: there was a low mound near the eastern side of this +wood-lawn, as though there had been once a dwelling of man there, but no +other sign or slot of man was there. + +So Face-of-god made stay in that place, casting himself down beside the +rill to rest him and eat and drink somewhat. Whatever thoughts had been +with him through the wood (and they been many) concerning his House and +his name, and his father, and the journey he might make to the cities of +the Westland, and what was to befall him when he was wedded, and what war +or trouble should be on his hands—all this was now mingled together and +confused by this rest amidst his weariness. He laid down his scrip, and +drew his meat from it and ate what he would, and dipping his gilded +beaker into the brook, drank water smacking of the damp musty savour of +the woodland; and then his head sank back on a little mound in the short +turf, and he fell asleep at once. A long dream he had in short space; +and therein were blent his thoughts of the morning with the deeds of +yesterday; and other matters long forgotten in his waking hours came back +to his slumber in unordered confusion: all which made up for him pictures +clear, but of little meaning, save that, as oft befalls in dreams, +whatever he was a-doing he felt himself belated. + +When he awoke, smiling at something strange in his gone-by dream, he +looked up to the heavens, thinking to see signs of the even at hand, for +he seemed to have been dreaming so long. The sky was thinly overcast by +now, but by his wonted woodcraft he knew the whereabouts of the sun, and +that it was scant an hour after noon. He sat there till he was wholly +awake, and then drank once more of the woodland water; and he said to +himself, but out loud, for he was fain of the sound of a man’s voice, +though it were but his own: + +‘What is mine errand hither? Whither wend I? What shall I have done +to-morrow that I have hitherto left undone? Or what manner of man shall +I be then other than I am now?’ + +Yet though he said the words he failed to think the thought, or it left +him in a moment of time, and he thought but of the Bride and her +kindness. Yet that abode with him but a moment, and again he saw himself +and those two women on the highway edge, and Long-coat lingering on the +slope below, kissing his kisses on her hands; and he was sorry that she +desired him over-much, for she was a fair woman and a friendly. But all +that also flowed from him at once, and he had no thought in him but that +he also desired something that he lacked: and this was a burden to him, +and he rose up frowning, and said to himself, ‘Am I become a mere sport +of dreams, whether I sleep or wake? I will go backward—or forward, but +will think no more.’ + +Then he ordered his gear again, and took the path onward and upward +toward the Great Mountains; and the track was even fainter than before +for a while, so that he had to seek his way diligently. + + + + +CHAPTER V. FACE-OF-GOD FALLS IN WITH MENFOLK ON THE MOUNTAIN. + + +NOW he plodded on steadily, and for a long time the forest changed but +little, and of wild things he saw only a few of those that love the +closest covert. The ground still went up and up, though at whiles were +hollows, and steeper bents out of them again, and the half-blind path or +slot still led past the close thickets and fallen trees, and he made way +without let or hindrance. At last once more the wood began to thin, and +the trees themselves to be smaller and gnarled and ill-grown: therewithal +the day was waning, and the sky was quite clear again as the afternoon +grew into a fair autumn evening. + +Now the trees failed altogether, and the slope grown steeper was covered +with heather and ling; and looking up, he saw before him quite near by +seeming in the clear even (though indeed they were yet far away) the +snowy peaks flushed with the sinking sun against the frosty dark-grey +eastern sky; and below them the dark rock-mountains, and below these +again, and nigh to him indeed, the fells covered with pine-woods and +looking like a wall to the heaths he trod. + +He stayed a little while and turned his head to look at the way whereby +he had come; but that way a swell of the oak-forest hid everything but +the wood itself, making a wall behind him as the pine-wood made a wall +before. There came across him then a sharp memory of the boding words +which Stone-face had spoken last night, and he felt as if he were now +indeed within the trap. But presently he laughed and said: ‘I am a fool: +this comes of being alone in the dark wood and the dismal waste, after +the merry faces of the Dale had swept away my foolish musings of +yesterday and the day before. Lo! here I stand, a man of the Face, sword +and axe by my side; if death come, it can but come once; and if I fear +not death, what shall make me afraid? The Gods hate me not, and will not +hurt me; and they are not ugly, but beauteous.’ + +Therewith he strode on again, and soon came to a place where the ground +sank into a shallow valley and the ling gave place to grass for a while, +and there were tall old pines scattered about, and betwixt them grey +rocks; this he passed through, climbing a steep bent out of it, and the +pines were all about him now, though growing wide apart, till at last he +came to where they thickened into a wood, not very close, wherethrough he +went merrily, singing to himself and swinging his spear. He was soon +through this wood, and came on to a wide well-grassed wood-lawn, hedged +by the wood aforesaid on three sides, but sloping up slowly toward the +black wall of the thicker pine-wood on the fourth side, and about half a +furlong overthwart and endlong. The sun had set while he was in the last +wood, but it was still broad daylight on the wood-lawn, and as he stood +there he was ware of a house under the pine-wood on the other side, built +long and low, much like the houses of the Woodland-Carles, but rougher +fashioned and of unhewn trees. He gazed on it, and said aloud to himself +as his wont was: + +‘Marvellous! here is a dwelling of man, scarce a day’s journey from +Burgstead; yet have I never heard tell of it: may happen some of the +Woodland-Carles have built it, and are on some errand of hunting peltries +up in the mountains, or maybe are seeking copper and tin among the rocks. +Well, at least let us go see what manner of men dwell there, and if they +are minded for a guest to-night; for fain were I of a bed beneath a roof, +and of a board with strong meat and drink on it.’ + +Therewith he set forward, not heeding much that the wood he had passed +through was hard on his left hand; but he had gone but twenty paces when +he saw a red thing at the edge of the wood, and then a glitter, and a +spear came whistling forth, and smote his own spear so hard close to the +steel that it flew out of his hand; then came a great shout, and a man +clad in a scarlet kirtle ran forth on him. Face-of-god had his axe in +his hand in a twinkling, and ran at once to meet his foe; but the man had +the hill on his side as he rushed on with a short-sword in his hand. Axe +and sword clashed together for a moment of time, and then both the men +rolled over on the grass together, and Face-of-god as he fell deemed that +he heard the shrill cry of a woman. Now Face-of-god found that he was +the nethermost, for if he was strong, yet was his foe stronger; the axe +had flown out of his hand also, while the strange man still kept a hold +of his short-sword; and presently, though he still struggled all he +could, he saw the man draw back his hand to smite with the said sword; +and at that nick of time the foeman’s knee was on his breast, his left +hand was doubled back behind him, and his right wrist was gripped hard in +the stranger’s left hand. Even therewith his ears, sharpened by the +coming death, heard the sound of footsteps and fluttering raiment drawing +near; something dark came between him and the sky; there was the sound of +a great stroke, and the big man loosened his grip and fell off him to one +side. + +Face-of-god leapt up and ran to his axe and got hold of it; but turning +round found himself face to face with a tall woman holding in her hand a +stout staff like the limb of a tree. She was calm and smiling, though +forsooth it was she who had stricken the stroke and stayed the sword from +his throat. His hand and axe dropped down to his side when he saw what +it was that faced him, and that the woman was young and fair; so he spake +to her and said: + +‘What aileth, maiden? is this man thy foe? doth he oppress thee? shall I +slay him?’ + +She laughed and said: ‘Thou art open-handed in thy proffers: he might +have asked the like concerning thee but a minute ago.’ + +‘Yea, yea,’ said Gold-mane, laughing also, ‘but he asked it not of thee.’ + +‘That is sooth,’ she said, ‘but since thou hast asked me, I will tell +thee that if thou slay him it will be my harm as well as his; and in my +country a man that taketh a gift is not wont to break the giver’s head +with it straightway. The man is my brother, O stranger, and presently, +if thou wilt, thou mayst be eating at the same board with him. Or if +thou wilt, thou mayst go thy ways unhurt into the wood. But I had liefer +of the twain that thou wert in our house to-night; for thou hast a wrong +against us.’ + +Her voice was sweet and clear, and she spake the last words kindly, and +drew somewhat nigher to Gold-mane. Therewithal the smitten man sat up, +and put his hand to his head, and quoth he: + +‘Angry is my sister! good it is to wear the helm abroad when she shaketh +the nut-trees.’ + +‘Nay,’ said she, ‘it is thy luck that thou wert bare-headed, else had I +been forced to smite thee on the face. Thou churl, since when hath it +been our wont to thrust knives into a guest, who is come of great kin, a +man of gentle heart and fair face? Come hither and handsel him self-doom +for thy fool’s onset!’ + +The man rose to his feet and said: ‘Well, sister, least said, soonest +mended. A clout on the head is worse than a woman’s chiding; but since +ye have given me one, ye may forbear the other.’ + +Therewith he drew near to them. He was a very big-made man, most +stalwarth, with dark red hair and a thin pointed beard; his nose was +straight and fine, his eyes grey and well-opened, but somewhat fierce +withal. Yet was he in nowise evil-looking; he seemed some thirty summers +old. He was clad in a short scarlet kirtle, a goodly garment, with a +hood of like web pulled off his head on to his shoulders: he bore a great +gold ring on his left arm, and a collar of gold came down on to his +breast from under his hood. + +As for the woman, she was clad in a long white linen smock, and over it a +short gown of dark blue woollen, and she had skin shoes on her feet. + +Now the man came up to Face-of-god, and took his hand and said: ‘I deemed +thee a foe, and I may not have over-many foes alive: but it seems that +thou art to be a friend, and that is well and better; so herewith I +handsel thee self-doom in the matter of the onslaught.’ + +Then Face-of-god laughed and said: ‘The doom is soon given forth; against +the tumble on the grass I set the clout on the head; there is nought left +over to pay to any man’s son.’ + +Said the scarlet-clad man: ‘Belike by thine eyes thou art a true man, and +wilt not bewray me. Now is there no foeman here, but rather maybe a +friend both now and in time to come.’ Therewith he cast his arms about +Face-of-god and kissed him. But Face-of-god turned about to the woman +and said: ‘Is the peace wholly made?’ + +She shook her head and said soberly: ‘Nay, thou art too fair for a woman +to kiss.’ + +He flushed red, as his wont was when a woman praised him; yet was his +heart full of pleasure and well-liking. But she laid her hand on his +shoulder and said: ‘Now is it for thee to choose betwixt the wild-wood +and the hall, and whether thou wilt be a guest or a wayfarer this night.’ + +As she touched him there took hold of him a sweetness of pleasure he had +never felt erst, and he answered: ‘I will be thy guest and not thy +stranger.’ + +‘Come then,’ she said, and took his hand in hers, so that he scarce felt +the earth under his feet, as they went all three together toward the +house in the gathering dusk, while eastward where the peaks of the great +mountains dipped was a light that told of the rising of the moon. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. OF FACE-OF-GOD AND THOSE MOUNTAIN-DWELLERS. + + +A YARD or two from the threshold Gold-mane hung back a moment, entangled +in some such misgiving as a man is wont to feel when he is just about to +do some new deed, but is not yet deep in the story; his new friends noted +that, for they smiled each in their own way, and the woman drew her hand +away from his. Face-of-god held out his still as though to take hers +again, and therewithal he changed countenance and said as though he had +stayed but to ask that question: + +‘Tell me thy name, tall man; and thou, fair woman, tell me thine; for how +can we talk together else?’ + +The man laughed outright and said: ‘The young chieftain thinks that this +house also should be his! Nay, young man, I know what is in thy thought, +be not ashamed that thou art wary; and be assured! We shall hurt thee no +more than thou hast been hurt. Now as to my name; the name that was born +with me is gone: the name that was given me hath been taken from me: now +I belike must give myself a name, and that shall be Wild-wearer; but it +may be that thou thyself shalt one day give me another, and call me +Guest.’ + +His sister gazed at him solemnly as he spoke, and Face-of-god beholding +her the while, deemed that her beauty grew and grew till she seemed as +aweful as a Goddess; and into his mind it came that this over-strong man +and over-lovely woman were nought mortal, and they withal dealing with +him as father and mother deal with a wayward child: then for a moment his +heart failed him, and he longed for the peace of Burgdale, and even the +lonely wood. But therewith she turned to him and let her hand come into +his again, and looked kindly on him and said: ‘And as for me, call me the +Friend; the name is good and will serve for many things.’ + +He looked down from her face and his eyes lighted on her hand, and when +he noted even amid the evening dusk how fair and lovely it was fashioned, +and yet as though it were deft in the crafts that the daughters of +menfolk use, his fear departed, and the pleasure of his longing filled +his heart, and he drew her hand to him to kiss it; but she held it back. +Then he said: ‘It is the custom of the Dale to all women.’ + +So she let him kiss her hand, heeding the kiss nothing, and said soberly: + +‘Then art thou of Burgdale, and if it were lawful to guess, I would say +that thy name is Face-of-god, of the House of the Face.’ + +‘Even so it is,’ said he, ‘but in the Dale those that love me do mostly +call me Gold-mane.’ + +‘It is well named,’ she said, ‘and seldom wilt thou be called otherwise, +for thou wilt be well-beloved. But come in now, Gold-mane, for night is +at hand, and here have we meat and lodging such as an hungry and weary +man may take; though we be broken people, dwellers in the waste.’ + +Therewith she led him gently over the threshold into the hall, and it +seemed to him as if she were the fairest and the noblest of all the +Queens of ancient story. + +When he was in the house he looked and saw that, rough as it was without +it lacked not fairness within. The floor was of hard-trodden earth +strewn with pine-twigs, and with here and there brown bearskins laid on +it: there was a standing table near the upper end athwart the hall, and a +days beyond that, but no endlong table. Gold-mane looked to the +shut-beds, and saw that they were large and fair, though there were but a +few of them; and at the lower end was a loft for a sleeping chamber dight +very fairly with broidered cloths. The hangings on the walls, though +they left some places bare which were hung with fresh boughs, were fairer +than any he had ever seen, so that he deemed that they must come from far +countries and the City of Cities: therein were images wrought of warriors +and fair women of old time and their dealings with the Gods and the +Giants, and Wondrous wights; and he deemed that this was the story of +some great kindred, and that their token and the sign of their banner +must needs be the Wood-wolf, for everywhere was it wrought in these +pictured webs. Perforce he looked long and earnestly at these fair +things, for the hall was not dark yet, because the brands on the hearth +were flaming their last, and when Wild-wearer beheld him so gazing, he +stood up and looked too for a moment, and then smote his right hand on +the hilt of his sword, and turned away and strode up and down the hall as +one in angry thought. + +But the woman, even the Friend, bestirred herself for the service of the +guest, and brought water for his hands and feet, and when she had washed +him, bore him the wine of Welcome and drank to him and bade him drink; +and he all the while was shamefaced; for it was to him as if one of the +Ladies of the Heavenly Burg were doing him service. Then she went away +by a door at the lower end of the hall, and Wild-wearer came and sat down +by Gold-mane, and fell a-talking with him about the ways of the Dalesmen, +and their garths, and the pastures and growths thereof; and what temper +the carles themselves were of; which were good men, which were ill, which +was loved and which scorned; no otherwise than if he had been the goodman +of some neighbouring dale; and Gold-mane told him whatso he knew, for he +saw no harm therein. + +After a while the outer door opened, and there came in a woman of some +five-and-twenty winters, trimly and strongly built; short-skirted she was +and clad as a hunter, with a bow in her hand and a quiver at her back: +she unslung a pouch, which she emptied at Wild-wearer’s feet of a leash +of hares and two brace of mountain grouse; of Face-of-god she took but +little heed. + +Said Wild-wearer: ‘This is good for to-morrow, not for to-day; the meat +is well-nigh on the board.’ + +Then Gold-mane smiled, for he called to mind his home-coming of +yesterday. But the woman said: + +‘The fault is not mine; she told me of the coming guest but three hours +agone.’ + +‘Ay?’ said Wild-wearer, ‘she looked for a guest then?’ + +‘Yea, certes,’ said the woman, ‘else why went I forth this afternoon, as +wearied as I was with yesterday?’ + +‘Well, well,’ said Wild-wearer, ‘get to thy due work or go play; I meddle +not with meat! and for thee all jests are as bitter earnest.’ + +‘And with thee, chief,’ she said, ‘it is no otherwise; surely I am made +on thy model.’ + +‘Thy tongue is longer, friend,’ said he; ‘now tarry if thou wilt, and if +the supper’s service craveth thee not.’ + +She turned away with one keen look at Face-of-god, and departed through +the door at the lower end of the hall. + +By this time the hall was dusk, for there were no candles there, and the +hearth-fire was but smouldering. Wild-wearer sat silent and musing now, +and Face-of-god spake not, for he was deep in wild and happy dreams. At +last the lower door opened and the fair woman came into the hall with a +torch in either hand, after whom came the huntress, now clad in a dark +blue kirtle, and an old woman yet straight and hale; and these twain bore +in the victuals and the table-gear. Then the three fell to dighting the +board, and when it was all ready, and Gold-mane and Wild-wearer were set +down to it, and with them the fair woman and the huntress, the old woman +threw good store of fresh brands on the hearth, so that the light shone +into every corner; and even therewith the outer door opened, and four +more men entered, whereof one was old, but big and stalwarth, the other +three young: they were all clad roughly in sheep-brown weed, but had +helms upon their heads and spears in their hands and great swords girt to +their sides; and they seemed doughty men and ready for battle. One of +the young men cast down by the door the carcass of a big-horned mountain +sheep, and then they all trooped off to the out-bower by the lower door, +and came back presently fairly clad and without their weapons. +Wild-wearer nodded to them kindly, and they sat at table paying no more +heed to Face-of-god than to cast him a nod for salutation. + +Then said the old woman to them: ‘Well, lads, have ye been doing or +sleeping?’ + +‘Sleeping, mother,’ said one of the young men, ‘as was but due after last +night was, and to-morrow shall be.’ + +Said the huntress: ‘Hold thy peace, Wood-wise, and let thy tongue help +thy teeth to deal with thy meat; for this is not the talking hour.’ + +‘Nay, Bow-may,’ said another of the swains, ‘since here is a new man, now +is the time to talk to him.’ + +Said the huntress: ‘’Tis thine hands that talk best, Wood-wont; it is not +they that shall bring thee to shame.’ + +Spake the third: ‘What have we to do with shame here, far away from dooms +and doomers, and elders, and wardens, and guarded castles? If the new +man listeth to speak, let him speak; or to fight, then let him; it shall +ever be man to man.’ + +Then spake the old woman: ‘Son Wood-wicked, hold thy peace, and forget +the steel that ever eggeth thee on to draw.’ + +Therewith she set the last matters on the board, while the three swains +sat and eyed Gold-mane somewhat fiercely, now that words had stirred +them, and he had sat there saying nothing, as one who was better than +they, and contemned them; but now spake Wild-wearer: + +‘Whoso hungreth let him eat! Whoso would slumber, let him to bed. But +he who would bicker, it must needs be with me. Here is a man of the +Dale, who hath sought the wood in peace, and hath found us. His hand is +ready and his heart is guileless: if ye fear him, run away to the wood, +and come back when he is gone; but none shall mock him while I sit by: +now, lads, be merry and blithe with the guest.’ + +Then the young men greeted Gold-mane, and the old man said: ‘Art thou of +Burgstead? then wilt thou be of the House of the Face, and thy name will +be Face-of-god; for that man is called the fairest of the Dale, and there +shall be none fairer than thou.’ + +Face-of-god laughed and said: ‘There be but few mirrors in Burgdale, and +I have no mind to journey west to the cities to see what manner of man I +be: that were ill husbandry. But now I have heard the names of the three +swains, tell me thy name, father!’ + +Spake the huntress: ‘This is my father’s brother, and his name is +Wood-father; or ye shall call him so: and I am called Bow-may because I +shoot well in the bow: and this old carline is my eme’s wife, and now +belike my mother, if I need one. But thou, fair-faced Dalesman, little +dost thou need a mirror in the Dale so long as women abide there; for +their faces shall be instead of mirrors to tell thee whether thou be fair +and lovely.’ + +Thereat they all laughed and fell to their victual, which was abundant, +of wood-venison and mountain-fowl, but of bread was no great plenty; wine +lacked not, and that of the best; and Gold-mane noted that the cups and +the apparel of the horns and mazers were not of gold nor gilded copper, +but of silver; and he marvelled thereat, for in the Dale silver was rare. + +So they ate and drank, and Gold-mane looked ever on the Friend, and spake +much with her, and he deemed her friendly indeed, and she seemed most +pleased when he spoke best, and led him on to do so. Wild-wearer was but +of few words, and those somewhat harsh; yet was he as a man striving to +be courteous and blithe; but of the others Bow-may was the greatest +speaker. + +Wild-wearer called healths to the Sun, and the Moon, and the Hosts of +Heaven; to the Gods of the Earth; to the Woodwights; and to the Guest. +Other healths also he called, the meaning of which was dark to Gold-mane; +to wit, the Jaws of the Wolf; the Silver Arm; the Red Hand; the Golden +Bushel; and the Ragged Sword. But when he asked the Friend concerning +these names what they might signify, she shook her head and answered not. + +At last Wild-wearer cried out: ‘Now, lads, the night weareth and the +guest is weary: therefore whoso of you hath in him any minstrelsy, now +let him make it, for later on it shall be over-late.’ + +Then arose Wood-wont and went to his shut-bed and groped therein, and +took from out of it a fiddle in its case; and he opened the case and drew +from it a very goodly fiddle, and he stood on the floor amidst of the +hall and Bow-may his cousin with him; and he laid his bow on the fiddle +and woke up song in it, and when it was well awake she fell a-singing, +and he to answering her song, and at the last all they of the house sang +together; and this is the meaning of the words which they sang: + + _She singeth_. + + Now is the rain upon the day, + And every water’s wide; + Why busk ye then to wear the way, + And whither will ye ride? + + _He singeth_. + + Our kine are on the eyot still, + The eddies lap them round; + All dykes the wind-worn waters fill, + And waneth grass and ground. + + _She singeth_. + + O ride ye to the river’s brim + In war-weed fair to see? + Or winter waters will ye swim + In hauberks to the knee? + + _He singeth_. + + Wild is the day, and dim with rain, + Our sheep are warded ill; + The wood-wolves gather for the plain, + Their ravening maws to fill. + + _She singeth_. + + Nay, what is this, and what have ye, + A hunter’s band, to bear + The Banner of our Battle-glee + The skulking wolves to scare? + + _He singeth_. + + O women, when we wend our ways + To deal with death and dread, + The Banner of our Fathers’ Days + Must flap the wind o’erhead. + + _She singeth_. + + Ah, for the maidens that ye leave! + Who now shall save the hay? + What grooms shall kiss our lips at eve, + When June hath mastered May? + + _He singeth_. + + The wheat is won, the seed is sown, + Here toileth many a maid, + And ere the hay knee-deep hath grown + Your grooms the grass shall wade. + + _They sing all together_. + + Then fair befall the mountain-side + Whereon the play shall be! + And fair befall the summer-tide + That whoso lives shall see. + +Face-of-god thought the song goodly, but to the others it was well known. +Then said Wood-father: + +‘O foster-son, thy foster-brother hath sung well for a wood abider; but +we are deeming that his singing shall be but as a starling to a throstle +matched against thy new-come guest. Therefore, Dalesman, sing us a song +of the Dale, and if ye will, let it be of gardens and pleasant houses of +stone, and fair damsels therein, and swains with them who toil not +over-much for a scant livelihood, as do they of the waste, whose heads +may not be seen in the Holy Places.’ + +Said Gold-mane: ‘Father, it is ill to set the words of a lonely man afar +from his kin against the song that cometh from the heart of a noble +house; yet may I not gainsay thee, but will sing to thee what I may call +to mind, and it is called the Song of the Ford.’ + +Therewith he sang in a sweet and clear voice: and this is the meaning of +his words: + + In hay-tide, through the day new-born, + Across the meads we come; + Our hauberks brush the blossomed corn + A furlong short of home. + + Ere yet the gables we behold + Forth flasheth the red sun, + And smites our fallow helms and cold + Though all the fight be done. + + In this last mend of mowing-grass + Sweet doth the clover smell, + Crushed neath our feet red with the pass + Where hell was blent with hell. + + And now the willowy stream is nigh, + Down wend we to the ford; + No shafts across its fishes fly, + Nor flasheth there a sword. + + But lo! what gleameth on the bank + Across the water wan, + As when our blood the mouse-ear drank + And red the river ran? + + Nay, hasten to the ripple clear, + Look at the grass beyond! + Lo ye the dainty band and dear + Of maidens fair and fond! + + Lo how they needs must take the stream! + The water hides their feet; + On fair kind arms the gold doth gleam, + And midst the ford we meet. + + Up through the garden two and two, + And on the flowers we drip; + Their wet feet kiss the morning dew + As lip lies close to lip. + + Here now we sing; here now we stay: + By these grey walls we tell + The love that lived from out the fray, + The love that fought and fell. + +When he was done they all said that he had sung well, and that the song +was sweet. Yet did Wild-wearer smile somewhat; and Bow-may said +outright: ‘Soft is the song, and hath been made by lads and minstrels +rather than by warriors.’ + +‘Nay, kinswoman,’ said Wood-father, ‘thou art hard to please; the guest +is kind, and hath given us that I asked for, and I give him all thanks +therefor.’ + +Face-of-god smiled, but he heeded little what they said, for as he sang +he had noted that the Friend looked kindly on him; and he thought he saw +that once or twice she put out her hand as if to touch him, but drew it +back again each time. She spake after a little and said: + +‘Here now hath been a stream of song running betwixt the Mountain and the +Dale even as doth a river; and this is good to come between our dreams of +what hath been and what shall be.’ Then she turned to Gold-mane, and +said to him scarce loud enough for all to hear: + +‘Herewith I bid thee good-night, O Dalesman; and this other word I have +to thee: heed not what befalleth in the night, but sleep thy best, for +nought shall be to thy scathe. And when thou wakest in the morning, if +we are yet here, it is well; but if we are not, then abide us no long +while, but break thy fast on the victual thou wilt find upon the board, +and so depart and go thy ways home. And yet thou mayst look to it to see +us again before thou diest.’ + +Therewith she held out her hand to him, and he took it and kissed it; and +she went to her chamber-aloft at the lower end of the hall. And when she +was gone, once more he had a deeming of her that she was of the kindred +of the Gods. At her departure him-seemed that the hall grew dull and +small and smoky, and the night seemed long to him and doubtful the coming +of the day. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. FACE-OF-GOD TALKETH WITH THE FRIEND ON THE MOUNTAIN. + + +SO now went all men to bed; and Face-to-god’s shut-bed was over against +the outer door and toward the lower end of the hall, and on the panel +about it hung the weapons and shields of men. Fair was that chamber and +roomy, and the man was weary despite his eagerness, so that he went to +sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow; but within a while (he +deemed about two hours after midnight) he was awaked by the clattering of +the weapons against the panel, and the sound of men’s hands taking them +down; and when he was fully awake, he heard withal men going up and down +the house as if on errands: but he called to mind what the Friend had +said to him, and he did not so much as turn himself toward the hall; for +he said: ‘Belike these men are outlaws and Wolves of the Holy Places, yet +by seeming they are good fellows and nought churlish, nor have I to do +with taking up the feud against them. I will abide the morning. Yet +meseemeth that she drew me hither: for what cause?’ + +Therewith he fell asleep again, and dreamed no more. But when he awoke +the sun was shining broad upon the hall-floor, and he sat up and +listened, but could hear no sound save the moaning of the wind in the +pine-boughs and the chatter of the starlings about the gables of the +house; and the place seemed so exceeding lonely to him that he was in a +manner feared by that loneliness. + +Then he arose and clad himself, and went forth into the hall and gazed +about him, and at first he deemed indeed that there was no one therein. +But at last he looked and beheld the upper gable and there underneath a +most goodly hanging was the glorious shape of a woman sitting on a bench +covered over with a cloth of gold and silver; and he looked and looked to +see if the woman might stir, and if she were alive, and she turned her +head toward him, and lo it was the Friend; and his heart rose to his +mouth for wonder and fear and desire. For now he doubted whether the +other folk were aught save shows and shadows, and she the Goddess who had +fashioned them out of nothing for his bewilderment, presently to return +to nothing. + +Yet whatever he might fear or doubt, he went up the hall towards her till +he was quite nigh to her, and there he stood silent, wondering at her +beauty and desiring her kindness. + +Grey-eyed she was like her brother; but her hair the colour of red wheat: +her lips full and red, her chin round, her nose fine and straight. Her +hands and all her body fashioned exceeding sweetly and delicately; yet +not as if she were an image of which the like might be found if the +craftsman were but deft enough to make a perfect thing, but in such a way +that there was none like to her for those that had eyes to behold her as +she was; and none could ever be made like to her, even by such a +master-craftsman as could fashion a body without a blemish. + +She was clad in a white smock, whose hems were broidered with gold wire +and precious gems of the Mountains, and over that a gown woven of gold +and silver: scarce hath the world such another. On her head was a fillet +of gold and gems, and there were wondrous gold rings on her arms: her +feet lay bare on the dark grey wolf-skin that was stretched before her. + +She smiled kindly upon his solemn and troubled face, and her voice +sounded strangely familiar to him coming from all that loveliness, as she +said: ‘Hail, Face-of-god! here am I left alone, although I deemed last +night that I should be gone with the others. Therefore am I fain to show +myself to thee in fairer array than yesternight; for though we dwell in +the wild-wood, from the solace of folk, yet are we not of thralls’ blood. +But come now, I bid thee break thy fast and talk with me a little while; +and then shalt thou depart in peace.’ + +Spake Face-of-god, and his voice trembled as he spake: ‘What art thou? +Last night I deemed at whiles once and again that thou wert of the Gods; +and now that I behold thee thus, and it is broad daylight, and of those +others is no more to be seen than if they had never lived, I cannot but +deem that it is even so, and that thou comest from the City that shall +never perish. Now if thou be a goddess, I have nought to pray thee, save +to slay me speedily if thou hast a mind for my death. But if thou art a +woman—’ + +She broke in: ‘Gold-mane, stay thy prayer and hold thy peace for this +time, lest thou repent when repentance availeth not. And this I say +because I am none of the Gods nor akin to them, save far off through the +generations, as art thou also, and all men of goodly kindred. Now I bid +thee eat thy meat, since ’tis ill talking betwixt a full man and a +fasting; and I have dight it myself with mine own hands; for Bow-may and +the Wood-mother went away with the rest three hours before dawn. Come +sit and eat as thou hast a hardy heart; as forsooth thou shouldest do if +I were a very goddess. Take heed, friend, lest I take thee for some +damsel of the lower Dale arrayed in Earl’s garments.’ + +She laughed therewith, and leaned toward him and put forth her hand to +him, and he took it and caressed it; and the exceeding beauty of her body +and of the raiment which was as it were a part of her and her loveliness, +made her laughter and her friendly words strange to him, as if one did +not belong to the other; as in a dream it might be. Nevertheless he did +as she bade him, and sat at the board and ate, while she leaned forward +on the arm of her chair and spake to him in friendly wise. And he +wondered as she spake that she knew so much of him and his: and he kept +saying to himself: ‘She drew me hither; wherefore did she so?’ + +But she said: ‘Gold-mane, how fareth thy father the Alderman? is he as +good a wright as ever?’ + +He told her: Yea, that ever was his hammer on the iron, the copper, and +the gold, and that no wright in the Dale was as deft as he. + +Said she: ‘Would he not have had thee seek to the Cities, to see the ways +of the outer world?’ + +‘Yea,’ said he. + +She said: ‘Thou wert wise to naysay that offer; thou shalt have enough to +do in the Dale and round about it in twelve months’ time.’ + +‘Art thou foresighted?’ said he. + +‘Folk have called me so,’ she said, ‘but I wot not. But thy brother +Hall-face, how fareth he?’ + +‘Well;’ said he, ‘to my deeming he is the Sword of our House, and the +Warrior of the Dale, if the days were ready for him.’ + +‘And Stone-face, that stark ancient,’ she said, ‘doth he still love the +Folk of the Dale, and hate all other folks?’ + +‘Nay,’ he said, ‘I know not that, but I know that he loveth as, and above +all me and my father.’ + +Again she spake: ‘How fareth the Bride, the fair maid to whom thou art +affianced?’ + +As she spake, it was to him as if his heart was stricken cold; but he put +a force upon himself, and neither reddened nor whitened, nor changed +countenance in any way; so he answered: + +‘She was well the eve of yesterday.’ Then he remembered what she was, +and her beauty and valour, and he constrained himself to say: ‘Each day +she groweth fairer; there is no man’s son and no daughter of woman that +does not love her; yea, the very beasts of field and fold love her.’ + +The Friend looked at him steadily and spake no word, but a red flush +mounted to her cheeks and brow and changed her face; and he marvelled +thereat; for still he misdoubted that she was a Goddess. But it passed +away in a moment, and she smiled and said: + +‘Guest, thou seemest to wonder that I know concerning thee and the Dale +and thy kindred. But now shalt thou wot that I have been in the Dale +once and again, and my brother oftener still; and that I have seen thee +before yesterday.’ + +‘That is marvellous,’ quoth he, ‘for sure am I that I have not seen +thee.’ + +‘Yet thou hast seen me,’ she said; ‘yet not altogether as I am now;’ and +therewith she smiled on him friendly. + +‘How is this?’ said he; ‘art thou a skin-changer?’ + +‘Yea, in a fashion,’ she said. ‘Hearken! dost thou perchance remember a +day of last summer when there was a market holden in Burgstead; and there +stood in the way over against the House of the Face a tall old carle who +was trucking deer-skins for diverse gear; and with him was a queen, tall +and dark-skinned, somewhat well-liking, her hair bound up in a white coif +so that none of it could be seen; by the token that she had a large stone +of mountain blue set in silver stuck in the said coif?’ + +As she spoke she set her hand to her bosom and drew something from it, +and held forth her hand to Gold-mane, and lo amidst the palm the great +blue stone set in silver. + +‘Wondrous as a dream is this,’ said Face-of-god, ‘for these twain I +remember well, and what followed.’ + +She said: ‘I will tell thee that. There came a man of the Shepherd-Folk, +drunk or foolish, or both, who began to chaffer with the big carle; but +ever on the queen were his eyes set, and presently he put forth his hand +to her to clip her, whereon the big carle hove up his fist and smote him, +so that he fell to earth noseling. Then ran the folk together to hale +off the stranger and help the shepherd, and it was like that the stranger +should be mishandled. Then there thrust through the press a young man +with yellow hair and grey eyes, who cried out, “Fellows, let be! The +stranger had the right of it; this is no matter to make a quarrel or a +court case of. Let the market go on! This man and maid are true folk.” +So when the folk heard the young man and his bidding, they forebore and +let the carle and the queen be, and the shepherd went his ways little +hurt. Now then, who was this young man?’ + +Quoth Gold-mane: ‘It was even I, and meseemeth it was no great deed to +do.’ + +‘Yea,’ she said, ‘and the big carle was my brother, and the tall queen, +it was myself.’ + +‘How then,’ said he, ‘for she was as dark-skinned as a dwarf, and thou so +bright and fair?’ + +She said: ‘Well, if the woods are good for nothing else, yet are they +good for the growing of herbs, and I know the craft of simpling; and with +one of these herbs had I stained my skin and my brother’s also. And it +showed the darker beneath the white coif.’ + +‘Yea,’ said he, ‘but why must ye needs fare in feigned shapes? Ye would +have been welcome guests in the Dale howsoever ye had come.’ + +‘I may not tell thee hereof as now,’ said she. + +Said Gold-mane: ‘Yet thou mayst belike tell me wherefore was that thy +brother desired to slay me yesterday, if he knew me, who I was.’ + +‘Gold-mane,’ she said, ‘thou art not slain, so little story need be made +of that: for the rest, belike he knew thee not at that moment. So it +falls with us, that we look to see foes rather than friends in the +wild-woods. Many uncouth things are therein. Moreover, I must tell thee +of my brother that whiles he is as the stalled bull late let loose, and +nothing is good to him save battle and onset; and then is he blind and +knows not friend from foe.’ Said Face-of-god: ‘Thou hast asked of me and +mine; wilt thou not tell me of thee and thine?’ + +‘Nay,’ she said, ‘not as now; thou must betake thee to the way. Whither +wert thou wending when thou happenedst upon us?’ + +He said: ‘I know not; I was seeking something, but I knew not +what—meseemeth that now I have found it.’ + +‘Art thou for the great mountains seeking gems?’ she said. ‘Yet go not +thither to-day: for who knoweth what thou shalt meet there that shall be +thy foe?’ + +He said: ‘Nay, nay; I have nought to do but to abide here as long as I +may, looking upon thee and hearkening to thy voice.’ + +Her eyes were upon his, but yet she did not seem to see him, and for a +while she answered not; and still he wondered that mere words should come +from so fair a thing; for whether she moved foot, or hand, or knee, or +turned this way or that, each time she stirred it was a caress to his +very heart. + +He spake again: ‘May I not abide here a while? What scathe may be in +that?’ + +‘It is not so,’ she said; ‘thou must depart, and that straightway: lo, +there lieth thy spear which the Wood-mother hath brought in from the +waste. Take thy gear to thee and wend thy ways. Have patience! I will +lead thee to the place where we first met and there give thee farewell.’ + +Therewith she arose and he also perforce, and when they came to the +doorway she stepped across the threshold and then turned back and gave +him her hand and so led him forth, the sun flashing back from her golden +raiment. Together they went over the short grey grass of that hillside +till they came to the place where he had arisen from that wrestle with +her brother. There she stayed him and said: + +‘This is the place; here must we part.’ + +But his heart failed him and he faltered in his speech as he said: + +‘When shall I see thee again? Wilt thou slay me if I seek to thee hither +once more?’ + +‘Hearken,’ she said, ‘autumn is now a-dying into winter: let winter and +its snows go past: nor seek to me hither; for me thou should’st not find, +but thy death thou mightest well fall in with; and I would not that thou +shouldest die. When winter is gone, and spring is on the land, if thou +hast not forgotten us thou shalt meet us again. Yet shalt thou go +further than this Woodland Hall. In Shadowy Vale shalt thou seek to me +then, and there will I talk with thee.’ + +‘And where,’ said he, ‘is Shadowy Vale? for thereof have I never heard +tell.’ + +She said: ‘The token when it cometh to thee shall show thee thereof and +the way thither. Art thou a babbler, Gold-mane?’ + +He said: ‘I have won no prize for babbling hitherto.’ + +She said: ‘If thou listest to babble concerning what hath befallen thee +on the Mountain, so do, and repent it once only, that is, thy life long.’ + +‘Why should I say any word thereof?’ said he. ‘Dost thou not know the +sweetness of such a tale untold?’ + +He spake as one who is somewhat wrathful, and she answered humbly and +kindly: + +‘Well is that. Bide thou the token that shall lead thee to Shadowy Vale. +Farewell now.’ + +She drew her hand from his, and turned and went her ways swiftly to the +house: he could not choose but gaze on her as she went glittering-bright +and fair in that grey place of the mountains, till the dark doorway +swallowed up her beauty. Then he turned away and took the path through +the pine-woods, muttering to himself as he went: + +‘What thing have I done now that hitherto I had not done? What manner of +man am I to-day other than the man I was yesterday?’ + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. FACE-OF-GOD COMETH HOME AGAIN TO BURGSTEAD. + + +FACE-OF-GOD went back through the wood by the way he had come, paying +little heed to the things about him. For whatever he thought of strayed +not one whit from the image of the Fair Woman of the Mountain-side. + +He went through the wood swiftlier than yesterday, and made no stay for +noon or aught else, nor did he linger on the road when he was come into +the Dale, either to speak to any or to note what they did. So he came to +the House of the Face about dusk, and found no man within the hall either +carle or queen. So he cried out on the folk, and there came in a damsel +of the house, whom he greeted kindly and she him again. He bade her +bring the washing-water, and she did so and washed his feet and his +hands. She was a fair maid enough, as were most in the Dale, but he +heeded her little; and when she was done he kissed not her cheek for her +pains, as his wont was, but let her go her ways unthanked. But he went +to his shut-bed and opened his chest, and drew fair raiment from it, and +did off his wood-gear, and did on him a goodly scarlet kirtle fairly +broidered, and a collar with gems of price therein, and other braveries. +And when he was so attired he came out into the hall, and there was old +Stone-face standing by the hearth, which was blazing brightly with fresh +brands, so that things were clear to see. + +Stone-face noted Gold-mane’s gay raiment, for he was not wont to wear +such attire, save on the feasts and high days when he behoved to. So the +old man smiled and said: + +‘Welcome back from the Wood! But what is it? Hast thou been wedded +there, or who hath made thee Earl and King?’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Foster-father, sooth it is that I have been to the +wood, but there have I seen nought of manfolk worse than myself. Now as +to my raiment, needs must I keep it from the moth. And I am weary +withal, and this kirtle is light and easy to me. Moreover, I look to see +the Bride here again, and I would pleasure her with the sight of gay +raiment upon me.’ + +‘Nay,’ said Stone-face, ‘hast thou not seen some woman in the wood +arrayed like the image of a God? and hath she not bidden thee thus to +worship her to-night? For I know that such wights be in the wood, and +that such is their wont.’ + +Said Gold-mane: ‘I worship nought save the Gods and the Fathers. Nor saw +I in the wood any such as thou sayest.’ + +Therewith Stone-face shook his head; but after a while he said: + +‘Art thou for the wood to-morrow?’ + +‘Nay,’ said Gold-mane angrily, knitting his brows. + +‘The morrow of to-morrow,’ said Stone-face, ‘is the day when we look to +see the Westland merchants: after all, wilt thou not go hence with them +when they wend their ways back before the first snows fall?’ + +‘Nay,’ said he, ‘I have no mind to it, fosterer; cease egging me on +hereto.’ + +Then Stone-face shook his head again, and looked on him long, and +muttered: ‘To the wood wilt thou go to-morrow or next day; or some day +when doomed is thine undoing.’ + +Therewith entered the service and torches, and presently after came the +Alderman with Hall-face; and Iron-face greeted his son and said to him: +‘Thou hast not hit the time to do on thy gay raiment, for the Bride will +not be here to-night; she bideth still at the Feast at the Apple-tree +House: or wilt thou be there, son?’ + +‘Nay,’ said Face-of-god, ‘I am over-weary. And as for my raiment, it is +well; it is for thine honour and the honour of the name.’ + +So to table they went, and Iron-face asked his son of his ways again, and +whether he was quite fixed in his mind not to go down to the Plain and +the Cities: ‘For,’ said he, ‘the morrow of to-morrow shall the merchants +be here, and this were great news for them if the son of the Alderman +should be their faring-fellow back.’ + +But Face-of-god answered without any haste or heat: ‘Nay, father, it may +not be: fear not, thou shalt see that I have a good will to work and live +in the Dale.’ + +And in good sooth, though he was a young man and loved mirth and the ways +of his own will, he was a stalwarth workman, and few could mow a match +with him in the hay-month and win it; or fell trees as certainly and +swiftly, or drive as straight and clean a furrow through the stiff land +of the lower Dale; and in other matters also was he deft and sturdy. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. THOSE BRETHREN FARE TO THE YEWWOOD WITH THE BRIDE. + + +NEXT morning Face-of-god dight himself for work, and took his axe; for +his brother Hall-face had bidden him go down with him to the Yew-wood and +cut timber there, since he of all men knew where to go straight to the +sticks that would quarter best for bow-staves; whereas the Alderman had +the right of hewing in that wood. So they went forth, those brethren, +from the House of the Face, but when they were gotten to the gate, who +should be there but the Bride awaiting them, and she with an ass duly +saddled for bearing the yew-sticks. Because Hall-face had told her that +he and belike Gold-mane were going to hew in the wood, and she thought it +good to be of the company, as oft had befallen erst. When they met she +greeted Face-of-god and kissed him as her wont was; and he looked upon +her and saw how fair she was, and how kind and friendly were her eyes +that beheld him, and how her whole face was eager for him as their lips +parted. Then his heart failed him, when he knew that he no longer +desired her as she did him, and he said within himself: + +‘Would that she had been of our nighest kindred! Would that I had had a +sister and that this were she!’ + +So the three went along the highway down the Dale, and Hall-face and the +Bride talked merrily together and laughed, for she was happy, since she +knew that Gold-mane had been to the wood and was back safe and much as he +had been before. So indeed it seemed of him; for though at first he was +moody and of few words, yet presently he cursed himself for a mar-sport, +and so fell into the talk, and enforced himself to be merry; and soon he +was so indeed; for he thought: ‘She drew me thither: she hath a deed for +me to do. I shall do the deed and have my reward. Soon will the +spring-tide be here, and I shall be a young man yet when it comes.’ + +So came they to the place where he had met the three maidens yesterday; +there they also turned from the highway; and as they went down the bent, +Gold-mane could not but turn his eyes on the beauty of the Bride and the +lovely ways of her body: but presently he remembered all that had betid, +and turned away again as one who is noting what it behoves him not to +note. And he said to himself: ‘Where art thou, Gold-mane? Whose art +thou? Yea, even if that had been but a dream that I have dreamed, yet +would that this fair woman were my sister!’ + +So came they to the Yew-wood, and the brethren fell to work, and the +Bride with them, for she was deft with the axe and strong withal. But at +midday they rested on the green slope without the Yew-wood; and they ate +bread and flesh and onions and apples, and drank red wine of the Dale. +And while they were resting after their meat, the Bride sang to them, and +her song was a lay of time past; and here ye have somewhat of it: + + ’Tis over the hill and over the dale + Men ride from the city fast and far, + If they may have a soothfast tale, + True tidings of the host of war. + + And first they hap on men-at-arms, + All clad in steel from head to foot: + Now tell true tale of the new-come harms, + And the gathered hosts of the mountain-root. + + Fair sirs, from murder-carles we flee, + Whose fashion is as the mountain-trolls’; + No man can tell how many they be, + And the voice of their host as the thunder rolls. + + They were weary men at the ending of day, + But they spurred nor stayed for longer word. + Now ye, O merchants, whither away? + What do ye there with the helm and the sword? + + O we must fight for life and gear, + For our beasts are spent and our wains are stayed, + And the host of the Mountain-men draws near, + That maketh all the world afraid. + + They left the chapmen on the hill, + And through the eve and through the night + They rode to have true tidings still, + And were there on the way when the dawn was bright. + + O damsels fair, what do ye then + To loiter thus upon the way, + And have no fear of the Mountain-men, + The host of the carles that strip and slay? + + O riders weary with the road, + Come eat and drink on the grass hereby! + And lay you down in a fair abode + Till the midday sun is broad and high; + + Then unto you shall we come aback, + And lead you forth to the Mountain-men, + To note their plenty and their lack, + And have true tidings there and then. + + ’Tis over the hill and over the dale + They ride from the mountain fast and far; + And now have they learned a soothfast tale, + True tidings of the host of war. + + It was summer-tide and the Month of Hay, + And men and maids must fare afield; + But we saw the place were the bow-staves lay, + And the hall was hung with spear and shield. + + When the moon was high we drank in the hall, + And they drank to the guests and were kind and blithe, + And they said: Come back when the chestnuts fall, + And the wine-carts wend across the hythe. + + Come oft and o’er again, they said; + Wander your ways; but we abide + For all the world in the little stead; + For wise are we, though the world be wide. + + Yea, come in arms if ye will, they said; + And despite your host shall we abide + For life or death in the little stead; + For wise are we, though the world be wide. + +So she made an end and looked at the fairness of the dale spreading wide +before her, and a robin came nigh from out of a thorn-bush and sung his +song also, the sweet herald of coming winter; and the lapwings wheeled +about, black and white, above the meadow by the river, sending forth +their wheedling pipe as they hung above the soft turf. + +She felt the brothers near her, and knew their friendliness from of old, +and she was happy; nor had she looked closer at Gold-mane would she have +noted any change in him belike; for the meat and the good wine, and the +fair sunny time, and the Bride’s sweet voice, and the ancient song +softened his heart while it fed the desire therein. + +So in a while they arose from their rest and did what was left them of +their work, and so went back to Burgstead through the fair afternoon; by +seeming all three in all content. But yet Gold-mane, as from time to +time he looked upon the Bride, kept saying to himself: ‘O if she had been +but my sister! sweet had the kinship been!’ + + + + +CHAPTER X. NEW TIDINGS IN THE DALE. + + +IT was three days thereafter that Gold-mane, leading an ass, went along +the highway to fetch home certain fleeces which were needed for the house +from a stead a little west of Wildlake; but he had gone scant half a mile +ere he fell in with a throng of folk going to Burgstead. They were of +the Shepherds; they had weapons with them, and some were clad in coats of +fence. They went along making a great noise, for they were all talking +each to each at the same time, and seemed very hot and eager about some +matter. When they saw Gold-mane anigh, they stopped, and the throng +opened as if to let him into their midmost; so he mingled with them, and +they stood in a ring about him and an old man more ill-favoured than it +was the wont of the Dalesmen to be. + +For he was long, stooping, gaunt and spindle-shanked, his hands big and +crippled with gout: his cheeks were red after an old man’s fashion, +covered with a crimson network like a pippin; his lips thin and not well +hiding his few teeth; his nose long like a snipe’s neb. In short, a +shame and a laughing-stock to the Folk, and a man whom the kindreds had +in small esteem, and that for good reasons. + +Face-of-god knew him at once for a notable close-fist and starve-all fool +of the Shepherds; and his name was now become Penny-thumb the Lean, +whatever it might once have been. + +So Face-of-god greeted all men, and they him again; and he said: ‘What +aileth you, neighbours? Your weapons, are bare, but I see not that they +be bloody. What is it, goodman Penny-thumb?’ + +Penny-thumb did but groan for all answer; but a stout carle who stood by +with a broad grin on his face answered and said: + +‘Face-of-god, evil tidings be abroad; the strong-thieves of the wood are +astir; and some deem that the wood-wights be helping them.’ + +‘Yea, and what is the deed they have done?’ said Gold-mane. + +Said the carle: ‘Thou knowest Penny-thumb’s abode?’ + +‘Yea surely,’ said Face-of-god; ‘fair are the water-meadows about it; +great gain of cheese can be gotten thence.’ + +‘Hast thou been within the house?’ said the carle. + +‘Nay,’ said Gold-mane. + +Then spake Penny-thumb: ‘Within is scant gear: we gather for others to +scatter; we make meat for others’ mouths.’ + +The carle laughed: ‘Sooth is that,’ said he, ‘that there is little gear +therein now; for the strong-thieves have voided both hall and bower and +byre.’ + +‘And when was that?’ said Face-of-god. + +‘The night before last night,’ said the carle, ‘the door was smitten on, +and when none answered it was broken down.’ + +‘Yea,’ quoth Penny-thumb, ‘a host entered, and they in arms.’ + +‘No host was within,’ said the carle, ‘nought but Penny-thumb and his +sister and his sister’s son, and three carles that work for him; and one +of them, Rusty to wit, was the worst man of the hill-country. These then +the host whereof the goodman telleth bound, but without doing them any +scathe; and they ransacked the house, and took away much gear; yet left +some.’ + +‘Thou liest,’ said Penny-thumb; ‘they took little and left none.’ + +Thereat all men laughed, for this seemed to them good game, and another +man said: ‘Well, neighbour Penny-thumb, if it was so little, thou hast +done unneighbourly in giving us such a heap of trouble about it.’ + +And they laughed again, but the first carle said: ‘True it is, goodman, +that thou wert exceeding eager to raise the hue and cry after that little +when we happed upon thee and thy housemates bound in your chairs +yesterday morning. Well, Alderman’s son, short is the tale to tell: we +could not fail to follow the gear, and the slot led us into the wood, and +ill is the going there for us shepherds, who are used to the bare downs, +save Rusty, who was a good woodsman and lifted the slot for us; so he +outwent us all, and ran out of sight of us, so presently we came upon him +dead-slain, with the manslayer’s spear in his breast. What then could we +do but turn back again, for now was the wood blind now Rusty was dead, +and we knew not whither to follow the fray; and the man himself was but +little loss: so back we turned, and told goodman Penny-thumb of all this, +for we had left him alone in his hall lamenting his gear; so we bided +to-day’s morn, and have come out now, with our neighbour and the spear, +and the dead corpse of Rusty. Stand aside, neighbours, and let the +Alderman’s son see it.’ + +They did so, and there was the corpse of a thin-faced tall wiry man, +somewhat foxy of aspect, lying on a hand-bier covered with black cloth. + +‘Yea, Face-of-god,’ said the carle, ‘he is not good to see now he is +dead, yet alive was he worser: but, look you, though the man was no good +man, yet was he of our people, and the feud is with us; so we would see +the Alderman, and do him to wit of the tidings, that he may call the +neighbours together to seek a blood-wite for Rusty and atonement for the +ransacking. Or what sayest thou?’ + +‘Have ye the spear that ye found in Rusty?’ quoth Gold-mane. + +‘Yea verily,’ said the carle. ‘Hither with it, neighbours; give it to +the Alderman’s son.’ + +So the spear came into his hand, and he looked at it and said: + +‘This is no spear of the smiths’ work of the Dale, as my father will tell +you. We take but little keep of the forging of spearheads here, so that +they be well-tempered and made so as to ride well on the shaft; but this +head, daintily is it wrought, the blood-trench as clean and trim as +though it were an Earl’s sword. See you withal this inlaying of runes on +the steel? It is done with no tin or copper, but with very silver; and +these bands about the shaft be of silver also. It is a fair weapon, and +the owner hath a loss of it greater than his gain in the slaying of +Rusty; and he will have left it in the wound so that he might be known +hereafter, and that he might be said not to have murdered Rusty but to +have slain him. Or how think ye?’ + +They all said that this seemed like to be; but that if the man who had +slain Rusty were one of the ransackers they might have a blood-wite of +him, if they could find him. Gold-mane said that so it was, and +therewithal he gave the shepherds good-speed and went on his way. + +But they came to Burgstead and found the Alderman, and in due time was a +Court held, and a finding uttered, and outlawry given forth for the +manslaying and the ransacking against certain men unknown. As for the +spear, it was laid up in the House of the Face. + +But Face-of-god pondered these matters in his mind, for such ransackings +there had been none of in late years; and he said to himself that his +friends of the Mountain must have other folk, of which the Dalesmen knew +nought, whose gear they could lift, or how could they live in that place. +And he marvelled that they should risk drawing the Dalesmen’s wrath upon +them; whereas they of the Dale were strong men not easily daunted, albeit +peaceable enough if not stirred to wrath. For in good sooth he had no +doubt concerning that spear, whose it was and whence it came: for that +very weapon had been leaning against the panel of his shut-bed the night +he slept on the Mountain, and all the other spears that he saw there were +more or less of the same fashion, and adorned with silver. + +Albeit all that he knew, and all that he thought of, he kept in his own +heart and said nothing of it. + +So wore the autumn into early winter; and the Westland merchants came in +due time, and departed without Face-of-god, though his father made him +that offer one last time. He went to and fro about his work in the Dale, +and seemed to most men’s eyes nought changed from what he had been. But +the Bride noted that he saw her less often than his wont was, and abode +with her a lesser space when he met her; and she could not think what +this might mean; nor had she heart to ask him thereof, though she was +sorry and grieved, but rather withdrew her company from him somewhat; and +when she perceived that he noted it not, and made no question of it, then +was she the sorrier. + +But the first winter-snow came on with a great storm of wind from the +north-east, so that no man stirred abroad who was not compelled thereto, +and those who went abroad risked life and limb thereby. Next morning all +was calm again, and the snow was deep, but it did not endure long, for +the wind shifted to the southwest and the thaw came, and three days +after, when folk could fare easily again up and down the Dale, came +tidings to Burgstead and the Alderman from the Lower Dale, how a house +called Greentofts had been ransacked there, and none knew by whom. Now +the goodman of Greentofts was little loved of the neighbours: he was +grasping and overbearing, and had often cowed others out of their due: he +was very cross-grained, both at home and abroad: his wife had fled from +his hand, neither did his sons find it good to abide with him: +therewithal he was wealthy of goods, a strong man and a deft man-at-arms. +When his sons and his wife departed from him, and none other of the +Dalesmen cared to abide with him, he went down into the Plain, and got +thence men to be with him for hire, men who were not well seen to in +their own land. These to the number of twelve abode with him, and did +his bidding whenso it pleased them. Two more had he had who had been +slain by good men of the Dale for their masterful ways; and no blood-wite +had been paid for them, because of their ill-doings, though they had not +been made outlaws. This man of Greentofts was called Harts-bane after +his father, who was a great hunter. + +Now the full tidings of the ransacking were these: The storm began two +hours before sunset, and an hour thereafter, when it was quite dark, for +without none could see because the wind was at its height and the drift +of the snow was hard and full, the hall-door flew open; and at first men +thought it had been the wind, until they saw in the dimness (for all +lights but the fire on the hearth had been quenched) certain things +tumbling in which at first they deemed were wolves; but when they took +swords and staves against them, lo they were met by swords and axes, and +they saw that the seeming wolves were men with wolf-skins drawn over +them. So the new-comers cowed them that they threw down their weapons, +and were bound in their places; but when they were bound, and had had +time to note who the ransackers were, they saw that there were but six of +them all told, who had cowed and bound Harts-bane and his twelve +masterful men; and this they deemed a great shaming to them, as might +well be. + +So then the stead was ransacked, and those wolves took away what they +would, and went their ways through the fierce storm, and none could tell +whether they had lived or died in it; but at least neither the men nor +their prey were seen again; nor did they leave any slot, for next morning +the snow lay deep over everything. + +No doubt had Gold-mane but that these ransackers were his friends of the +Mountain; but he held his peace, abiding till the winter should be over. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. MEN MAKE OATH AT BURGSTEAD ON THE HOLY BOAR. + + +A WEEK after the ransacking at Greentofts the snow and the winter came on +in earnest, and all the Dale lay in snow, and men went on skids when they +fared up and down the Dale or on the Mountain. + +All was now tidingless till Yule over, and in Burgstead was there +feasting and joyance enough; and especially at the House of the Face was +high-tide holden, and the Alderman and his sons and Stone-face and all +the kindred and all their men sat in glorious attire within the hall; and +many others were there of the best of the kindreds of Burgstead who had +been bidden. + +Face-of-god sat between his father and Stone-face; and he looked up and +down the tables and the hall and saw not the Bride, and his heart misgave +him because she was not there, and he wondered what had befallen and if +she were sick of sorrow. + +But Iron-face beheld him how he gazed about, and he laughed; for he was +exceeding merry that night and fared as a young man. Then he said to his +son: ‘Whom seekest thou, son? is there someone lacking?’ + +Face-of-god reddened as one who lies unused to it, and said: + +‘Yea, kinsman, so it is that I was seeking the Bride my kinswoman.’ + +‘Nay,’ said Iron-face, ‘call her not kinswoman: therein is ill-luck, lest +it seem that thou art to wed one too nigh thine own blood. Call her the +Bride only: to thee and to me the name is good. Well, son, desirest thou +sorely to see her?’ + +‘Yea, yea, surely,’ said Face-of-god; but his eyes went all about the +hall still, as though his mind strayed from the place and that home of +his. + +Said Iron-face: ‘Have patience, son, thou shalt see her anon, and that in +such guise as shall please thee.’ + +Therewithal came the maidens with the ewers of wine, and they filled all +horns and beakers, and then stood by the endlong tables on either side +laughing and talking with the carles and the older women; and the hall +was a fair sight to see, for the many candles burned bright and the fire +on the hearth flared up, and those maids were clad in fair raiment, and +there was none of them but was comely, and some were fair, and some very +fair: the walls also were hung with goodly pictured cloths, and the image +of the God of the Face looked down smiling terribly from the gable-end +above the high-seat. + +Thus as they sat they heard the sound of a horn winded close outside the +hall door, and the door was smitten on. Then rose Iron-face smiling +merrily, and cried out: + +‘Enter ye, whether ye be friends or foes: for if ye be foemen, yet shall +ye keep the holy peace of Yule, unless ye be the foes of all kindreds and +nations, and then shall we slay you.’ + +Thereat some who knew what was toward laughed; but Gold-mane, who had +been away from Burgstead some days past, marvelled and knit his brows, +and let his right hand fall on his sword-hilt. For this folk, who were +of merry ways, were wont to deal diversely with the Yule-tide customs in +the manner of shows; and he knew not that this was one of them. + +Now was the Outer door thrown open, and there entered seven men, whereof +two were all-armed in bright war-gear, and two bore slug-horns, and two +bore up somewhat on a dish covered over with a piece of rich cloth, and +the seventh stood before them all wrapped up in a dark fur mantle. + +Thus they stood a moment; and when he saw their number, back to +Gold-mane’s heart came the thought of those folk on the Mountain: for +indeed he was somewhat out of himself for doubt and longing, else would +he have deemed that all this was but a Yule-tide play. + +Now the men with the slug-horns set them to their mouths and blew a long +blast; while the first of the new-comers set hand to the clasps of the +fur cloak and let it fall to the ground, and lo! a woman exceeding +beauteous, clad in glistering raiment of gold and fine web; her hair +wreathed with bay, and in her hand a naked sword with goodly-wrought +golden hilt and polished blue-gleaming blade. + +Face-of-god started up in his sear, and stared like a man new-wakened +from a strange dream: because for one moment he deemed verily that it was +the Woman of the Mountain arrayed as he had last seen her, and he cried +aloud ‘The Friend, the Friend!’ + +His father brake out into loud laughter thereat, and clapped his son on +the shoulder and said: ‘Yea, yea, lad, thou mayst well say the Friend; +for this is thine old playmate whom thou hast been looking round the hall +for, arrayed this eve in such fashion as is meet for her goodliness and +her worthiness. Yea, this is the Friend indeed!’ + +Then waxed Face-of-god as red as blood for shame, and he sat him down in +his place again: for now he wotted what was toward, and saw that this +fair woman was the Bride. + +But Stone-face from the other side looked keenly on him. + +Then blew the horns again, and the Bride stepped daintily up the hall, +and the sweet odour of her raiment went from her about the fire-warmed +dwelling, and her beauty moved all hearts with love. So stood she at the +high-table; and those two who bore the burden set it down thereon and +drew off the covering, and lo! there was the Holy Boar of Yule on which +men were wont to make oath of deeds that they would do in the coming +year, according to the custom of their forefathers. Then the Bride laid +the goodly sword beside the dish, and then went round the table and sat +down betwixt Face-of-god and Stone-face, and turned kindly to Gold-mane, +and was glad; for now was his fair face as its wont was to be. He in +turn smiled upon her, for she was fair and kind and his fellow for many a +day. + +Now the men-at-arms stood each side the Boar, and out from them on each +side stood the two hornsmen: then these blew up again, whereon the +Alderman stood up and cried: + +‘Ye sons of the brave who have any deed that ye may be desirous of doing, +come up, come lay your hand on the sword, and the point of the sword to +the Holy Beast, and swear the oath that lieth on your hearts.’ + +Therewith he sat down, and there strode a man up the hall, strong-built +and sturdy, but short of stature; black-haired, red-bearded, and +ruddy-faced: and he stood on the daïs, and took up the sword and laid its +point on the Boar, and said: + +‘I am Bristler, son of Brightling, a man of the Shepherds. Here by the +Holy Boar I swear to follow up the ransackers of Penny-thumb and the +slayers of Rusty. And I take this feud upon me, although they be no good +men, because I am of the kin and it falleth to me, since others forbear; +and when the Court was hallowed hereon I was away out of the Dale and the +Downs. So help me the Warrior, and the God of the Earth.’ + +Then the Alderman nodded his head to him kindly, and reached him out a +cup of wine, and as he drank there went up a rumour of praise from the +hall; and men said that his oath was manly and that he was like to keep +it; for he was a good man-at-arms and a stout heart. + +Then came up three men of the Shepherds and two of the Dale and swore to +help Bristler in his feud, and men thought it well sworn. + +After that came a braggart, a man very gay of his raiment, and swore with +many words that if he lived the year through he would be a captain over +the men of the Plain, and would come back again with many gifts for his +friends in the Dale. This men deemed foolishly sworn, for they knew the +man; so they jeered at him and laughed as he went back to his place +ashamed. + +Then swore three others oaths not hard to be kept, and men laughed and +were merry. + +At last uprose the Alderman, and said: ‘Kinsmen, and good fellows, good +days and peaceable are in the Dale as now; and of such days little is the +story, and little it availeth to swear a deed of derring-do: yet three +things I swear by this Beast; and first to gainsay no man’s asking if I +may perform it; and next to set right above law and mercy above custom; +and lastly, if the days change and war cometh to us or we go to meet it, +I will be no backwarder in the onset than three fathoms behind the +foremost. So help me the Warrior, and the God of the Face and the Holy +Earth!’ + +Therewith he sat down, and all men shouted for joy of him, and said that +it was most like that he would keep his oath. + +Last of all uprose Face-of-god and took up the sword and looked at it; +and so bright was the blade that he saw in it the image of the golden +braveries which the Bride bore, and even some broken image of her face. +Then he handled the hilt and laid the point on the Boar, and cried: + +‘Hereby I swear to wed the fairest woman of the Earth before the year is +worn to an end; and that whether the Dalesmen gainsay me or the men +beyond the Dale. So help me the Warrior, and the God of the Face and the +Holy Earth!’ + +Therewith he sat down; and once more men shouted for the love of him and +of the Bride, and they said he had sworn well and like a chieftain. + +But the Bride noted him that neither were his eyes nor his voice like to +their wont as he swore, for she knew him well; and thereat was she ill at +ease, for now whatever was new in him was to her a threat of evil to +come. + +Stone-face also noted him, and he knew the young man better than all +others save the Bride, and he saw withal that she was ill-pleased, and he +said to himself: ‘I will speak to my fosterling to-morrow if I may find +him alone.’ + +So came the swearing to an end, and they fell to on their meat and +feasted on the Boar of Atonement after they had duly given the Gods their +due share, and the wine went about the hall and men were merry till they +drank the parting cup and fared to rest in the shut-beds, and whereso +else they might in the Hall and the House, for there were many men there. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. STONE-FACE TELLETH CONCERNING THE WOOD-WIGHTS. + + +EARLY on the morrow Gold-mane arose and clad himself and went out-a-doors +and over the trodden snow on to the bridge over the Weltering Water, and +there betook himself into one of the coins of safety built over the +up-stream piles; there he leaned against the wall and turned his face to +the Thorp, and fell to pondering on his case. And first he thought about +his oath, and how that he had sworn to wed the Mountain Woman, although +his kindred and her kindred should gainsay him, yea and herself also. +Great seemed that oath to him, yet at that moment he wished he had made +it greater, and made all the kindred, yea and the Bride herself, sure of +the meaning of the words of it: and he deemed himself a dastard that he +had not done so. Then he looked round him and beheld the winter, and he +fell into mere longing that the spring were come and the token from the +Mountain. Things seemed too hard for him to deal with, and he between a +mighty folk and two wayward women; and he went nigh to wish that he had +taken his father’s offer and gone down to the Cities; and even had he met +his bane: well were that! And, as young folk will, he set to work making +a picture of his deeds there, had he been there. He showed himself the +stricken fight in the plain, and the press, and the struggle, and the +breaking of the serried band, and himself amidst the ring of foemen doing +most valiantly, and falling there at last, his shield o’er-heavy with the +weight of foemen’s spears for a man to uphold it. Then the victory of +his folk and the lamentation and praise over the slain man of the +Mountain Dales, and the burial of the valiant warrior, the praising +weeping folk meeting him at the City-gate, laid stark and cold in his +arms on the gold-hung garlanded bier. + +There ended his dream, and he laughed aloud and said: ‘I am a fool! All +this were good and sweet if I should see it myself; and forsooth that is +how I am thinking of it, as if I still alive should see myself dead and +famous!’ + +Then he turned a little and looked at the houses of the Thorp lying dark +about the snowy ways under the starlit heavens of the winter morning: +dark they were indeed and grey, save where here and there the half-burned +Yule-fire reddened the windows of a hall, or where, as in one place, the +candle of some early waker shone white in a chamber window. There was +scarce a man astir, he deemed, and no sound reached him save the crowing +of the cocks muffled by their houses, and a faint sound of beasts in the +byres. + +Thus he stood a while, his thoughts wandering now, till presently he +heard footsteps coming his way down the street and turned toward them, +and lo it was the old man Stone-face. He had seen Gold-mane go out, and +had risen and followed him that he might talk with him apart. Gold-mane +greeted him kindly, though, sooth to say, he was but half content to see +him; since he doubted, what was verily the case, that his foster-father +would give him many words, counselling him to refrain from going to the +wood, and this was loathsome to him; but he spake and said: + +‘Meseems, father, that the eastern sky is brightening toward dawn.’ + +‘Yea,’ quoth Stone-face. + +‘It will be light in an hour,’ said Face-of-god. + +‘Even so,’ said Stone-face. + +‘And a fair day for the morrow of Yule,’ said the swain. + +‘Yea,’ said Stone-face, ‘and what wilt thou do with the fair day? Wilt +thou to the wood?’ + +‘Maybe, father,’ said Gold-mane; ‘Hall-face and some of the swains are +talking of elks up the fells which may be trapped in the drifts, and if +they go a-hunting them, I may go in their company.’ + +‘Ah, son,’ quoth Stone-face, ‘thou wilt look to see other kind of beasts +than elks. Things may ye fall in with there who may not be impounded in +the snow like to elks, but can go light-foot on the top of the soft drift +from one place to another.’ + +Said Gold-mane: ‘Father, fear me not; I shall either refrain me from the +wood, or if I go, I shall go to hunt the wood-deer with other hunters. +But since thou hast come to me, tell me more about the wood, for thy +tales thereof are fair.’ + +‘Yea,’ said Stone-face, ‘fair tales of foul things, as oft it befalleth +in the world. Hearken now! if thou deemest that what thou seekest shall +come readier to thine hand because of the winter and the snow, thou +errest. For the wights that waylay the bodies and souls of the mighty in +the wild-wood heed such matters nothing; yea and at Yule-tide are they +most abroad, and most armed for the fray. Even such an one have I seen +time agone, when the snow was deep and the wind was rough; and it was in +the likeness of a woman clad in such raiment as the Bride bore last +night, and she trod the snow light-foot in thin raiment where it would +scarce bear the skids of a deft snow-runner. Even so she stood before +me; the icy wind blew her raiment round about her, and drifted the hair +from her garlanded head toward me, and she as fair and fresh as in the +midsummer days. Up the fell she fared, sweetest of all things to look +on, and beckoned on me to follow; on me, the Warrior, the Stout-heart; +and I followed, and between us grief was born; but I it was that fostered +that child and not she. Always when she would be, was she merry and +lovely; and even so is she now, for she is of those that be long-lived. +And I wot that thou hast seen even such an one!’ + +‘Tell me more of thy tales, foster-father,’ said Gold-mane, ‘and fear not +for me!’ + +‘Ah, son,’ he said, ‘mayst thou have no such tales to tell to those that +shall be young when thou art old. Yet hearken! We sat in the hall +together and there was no third; and methought that the birds sang and +the flowers bloomed, and sweet was their savour, though it was midwinter. +A rose-wreath was on her head; grapes were on the board, and fair +unwrinkled summer apples on the day that we feasted together. When was +the feast? sayst thou. Long ago. What was the hall, thou sayest, +wherein ye feasted? I know not if it were on the earth or under it, or +if we rode the clouds that even. But on the morrow what was there but +the stark wood and the drift of the snow, and the iron wind howling +through the branches, and a lonely man, a wanderer rising from the +ground. A wanderer through the wood and up the fell, and up the high +mountain, and up and up to the edges of the ice-river and the green caves +of the ice-hills. A wanderer in spring, in summer, autumn and winter, +with an empty heart and a burning never-satisfied desire; who hath seen +in the uncouth places many an evil unmanly shape, many a foul hag and +changing ugly semblance; who hath suffered hunger and thirst and wounding +and fever, and hath seen many things, but hath never again seen that fair +woman, or that lovely feast-hall. + +‘All praise and honour to the House of the Face, and the bounteous +valiant men thereof! and the like praise and honour to the fair women +whom they wed of the valiant and goodly House of the Steer!’ + +‘Even so say I,’ quoth Gold-mane calmly; ‘but now wend we aback to the +House, for it is morning indeed, and folk will be stirring there.’ + +So they turned from the bridge together; and Stone-face was kind and +fatherly, and was telling his foster-son many wise things concerning the +life of a chieftain, and the giving-out of dooms and the gathering for +battle; to all which talk Face-of-god seemed to hearken gladly, but +indeed hearkened not at all; for verily his eyes were beholding that +snowy waste, and the fair woman upon it; even such an one as Stone-face +had told of. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. THEY FARE TO THE HUNTING OF THE ELK. + + +WHEN they came into the Hall, the hearth-fire had been quickened, and the +sleepers on the floor had been wakened, and all folk were astir. So the +old man sat down by the hearth while Gold-mane busied himself in fetching +wood and water, and in sweeping out the Hall, and other such works of the +early morning. In a little while Hall-face and the other young men and +warriors were afoot duly clad, and the Alderman came from his chamber and +greeted all men kindly. Soon meat was set upon the boards, and men broke +their fast; and day dawned while they were about it, and ere it was all +done the sun rose clear and golden, so that all men knew that the day +would be fair, for the frost seemed hard and enduring. + +Then the eager young men and the hunters, and those who knew the mountain +best drew together about the hearth, and fell to talking of the hunting +of the elk; and there were three there who knew both the woods and also +the fells right up to the ice-rivers better than any other; and these +said that they who were fain of the hunting of the elk would have no +likelier time than that day for a year to come. Short was the rede +betwixt them, for they said they would go to the work at once and make +the most of the short winter daylight. So they went each to his place, +and some outside that House to their fathers’ houses to fetch each man +his gear. Face-of-god for his part went to his shut-bed, and stood by +his chest, and opened it, and drew out of it a fine hauberk of ring-mail +which his father had made for him: for though Face-of-god was a deft +wright, he was not by a long way so deft as his father, who was the +deftest of all men of that time and country; so that the alien merchants +would give him what he would for his hauberks and helms, whenso he would +chaffer with them, which was but seldom. So Face-of-god did on this +hauberk over his kirtle, and over it he cast his foul-weather weed, so +that none might see it: he girt a strong war-sword to his side, cast his +quiver over his shoulder, and took his bow in his hand, although he had +little lust to shoot elks that day, even as Stone-face had said; +therewithal he took his skids, and went forth of the hall to the gate of +the Burg; whereto gathered the whole company of twenty-three, and +Gold-mane the twenty-fourth. And each man there had his skids and his +bow and quiver, and whatso other weapon, as short-sword, or wood-knife, +or axe, seemed good to him. + +So they went out-a-gates, and clomb the stairway in the cliff which led +to the ancient watch-tower: for it was on the lower slopes of the fells +which lay near to the Weltering Water that they looked to find the elks, +and this was the nighest road thereto. When they had gotten to the top +they lost no time, but went their ways nearly due east, making way easily +where there were but scattered trees close to the lip of the sheer +cliffs. + +They went merrily on their skids over the close-lying snow, and were soon +up on the great shoulders of the fells that went up from the bank of the +Weltering Water: at noon they came into a little dale wherein were a few +trees, and there they abided to eat their meat, and were very merry, +making for themselves tables and benches of the drifted snow, and piling +it up to windward as a defence against the wind, which had now arisen, +little but bitter from the south-east; so that some, and they the wisest, +began to look for foul weather: wherefore they tarried the shorter while +in the said dale or hollow. + +But they were scarcely on their way again before the aforesaid south-east +wind began to grow bigger, and at last blew a gale, and brought up with +it a drift of fine snow, through which they yet made their way, but +slowly, till the drift grew so thick that they could not see each other +five paces apart. + +Then perforce they made stay, and gathered together under a bent which by +good luck they happened upon, where they were sheltered from the worst of +the drift. There they abode, till in less than an hour’s space the drift +abated and the wind fell, and in a little while after it was quite clear, +with the sun shining brightly and the young waxing moon white and high up +in the heavens; and the frost was harder than ever. + +This seemed good to them; but now that they could see each other’s faces +they fell to telling over their company, and there was none missing save +Face-of-god. They were somewhat dismayed thereat, but knew not what to +do, and they deemed he might not be far off, either a little behind or a +little ahead; and Hall-face said: + +‘There is no need to make this to-do about my brother; he can take good +care of himself; neither does a warrior of the Face die because of a +little cold and frost and snow-drift. Withal Gold-mane is a wilful man, +and of late days hath been wilful beyond his wont; let us now find the +elks.’ + +So they went on their ways hoping to fall in with him again. No long +story need be made of their hunting, for not very far from where they had +taken shelter they came upon the elks, many of them, impounded in the +drifts, pretty much where the deft hunters looked to find them. There +then was battle between the elks and the men, till the beasts were all +slain and only one man hurt: then they made them sleighs from wood which +they found in the hollows thereby, and they laid the carcasses thereon, +and so turned their faces homeward, dragging their prey with them. But +they met not Face-of-god either there or on the way home; and Hall-face +said: ‘Maybe Gold-mane will lie on the fell to-night; and I would I were +with him; for adventures oft befall such folk when they abide in the +wilds.’ + +Now it was late at night by then they reached Burgstead, so laden as they +were with the dead beasts; but they heeded the night little, for the moon +was well-nigh as bright as day for them. But when they came to the gate +of the Thorp, there were assembled the goodmen and swains to meet them +with torches and wine in their honour. There also was Gold-mane come +back before them, yea for these two hours; and he stood clad in his +holiday raiment and smiled on them. + +Then was there some jeering at him that he was come back empty-handed +from the hunting, and that he was not able to abide the wind and the +drift; but he laughed thereat, for all this was but game and play, since +men knew him for a keen hunter and a stout woodsman; and they had deemed +it a heavy loss of him if he had been cast away, as some feared he had +been: and his brother Hall-face embraced him and kissed him, and said to +him: ‘Now the next time that thou farest to the wood will I be with thee +foot to foot, and never leave thee, and then meseemeth I shall wot of the +tale that hath befallen thee, and belike it shall be no sorry one.’ + +Face-of-god laughed and answered but little, and they all betook them to +the House of the Face and held high feast therein, for as late as the +night was, in honour of this Hunting of the Elk. + +No man cared to question Face-of-god closely as to how or where he had +strayed from the hunt; for he had told his own tale at once as soon as he +came home, to wit, that his right-foot skid-strap had broken, and even +while he stopped to mend it came on that drift and weather; and that he +could not move from that place without losing his way, and that when it +had cleared he knew not whither they had gone because the snow had +covered their slot. So he deemed it not unlike that they had gone back, +and that he might come up with one or two on the way, and that in any +case he wotted well that they could look after themselves; so he turned +back, not going very swiftly. All this seemed like enough, and a little +matter except to jest about, so no man made any question concerning it: +only old Stone-face said to himself: + +‘Now were I fain to have a true tale out of him, but it is little likely +that anything shall come of my much questioning; and it is ill forcing a +young man to tell lies.’ + +So he held his peace, and the feast went on merrily and blithely. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. CONCERNING FACE-OF-GOD AND THE MOUNTAIN. + + +BUT it must be told of Gold-mane that what had befallen him was in this +wise. His skid-strap brake in good sooth, and he stayed to mend it; but +when he had done what was needful, he looked up and saw no man nigh, what +for the drift, and that they had gone on somewhat; so he rose to his +feet, and without more delay, instead of keeping on toward the elk-ground +and the way his face had been set, he turned himself north-and-by-east, +and went his ways swiftly towards that aírt, because he deemed that it +might lead him to the Mountain-hall where he had guested. He abode not +for the storm to clear, but swept off through the thick of it; and indeed +the wind was somewhat at his back, so that he went the swiftlier. But +when the drift was gotten to its very worst, he sheltered himself for a +little in a hollow behind a thorn-bush he stumbled upon. As soon as it +began to abate he went on again, and at last when it was quite clear, and +the sun shone out, he found himself on a long slope of the fells covered +deep with smooth white snow, and at the higher end a great crag rising +bare fifty feet above the snow, and more rocks, but none so great, and +broken ground as he judged (the snow being deep) about it on the hither +side; and on the further, three great pine-trees all bent down and +mingled together by their load of snow. + +Thitherward he made, as a man might, seeing nothing else to note before +him; but he had not made many strides when forth from behind the crag by +the pine-trees came a man; and at first Face-of-god thought it might be +one of his hunting-fellows gone astray, and he hailed him in a loud +voice, but as he looked he saw the sun flash back from a bright helm on +the new-comer’s head; albeit he kept on his way till there was but a +space of two hundred yards between them; when lo! the helm-bearer notched +a shaft to his bent bow and loosed at Face-of-god, and the arrow came +whistling and passed six inches by his right ear. Then Face-of-god +stopped perplexed with his case; for he was on the deep snow in his +skids, with his bow unbent, and he knew not how to bend it speedily. He +was loth to turn his back and flee, and indeed he scarce deemed that it +would help him. Meanwhile of his tarrying the archer loosed again at +him, and this time the shaft flew close to his left ear. Then +Face-of-god thought to cast himself down into the snow, but he was +ashamed; till there came a third shaft which flew over his head amidmost +and close to it. ‘Good shooting on the Mountain!’ muttered he; ‘the next +shaft will be amidst my breast, and who knows whether the Alderman’s +handiwork will keep it out.’ + +So he cried aloud: ‘Thou shootest well, brother; but art thou a foe? If +thou art, I have a sword by my side, and so hast thou; come hither to me, +and let us fight it out friendly if we must needs fight.’ + +A laugh came down the wind to him clear but somewhat shrill, and the +archer came swiftly towards him on his skids with no weapon in his hand +save his bow; so that Face-of-god did not draw his sword, but stood +wondering. + +As they drew nearer he beheld the face of the new-comer, and deemed that +he had seen it before; and soon, for all that it was hooded close by the +ill-weather raiment, he perceived it to be the face of Bow-may, ruddy and +smiling. + +She laughed out loud again, as she stopped herself within three feet of +him, and said: + +‘Yea, friend Yellow-hair, we heard of the elks and looked to see thee +hereabouts, and I knew thee at once when I came out from behind the crag +and saw thee stand bewildered.’ + +Said Gold-mane: ‘Hail to thee, Bow-may! and glad am I to see thee. But +thou liest in saying that thou knewest me; else why didst thou shoot +those three shafts at me? Surely thou art not so quick as that with all +thy friends: these be sharp greetings of you Mountain-folk.’ + +‘Thou lad with the sweet mouth,’ she said, ‘I like to see thee and hear +thee talk, but now must I hasten thy departure; so stand we here no +longer. Let us get down into the wood where we can do off our skids and +sit down, and then will I tell thee the tidings. Come on!’ + +And she caught his hand in hers, and they went speedily down the slopes +toward the great oak-wood, the wind whistling past their ears. + +‘Whither are we going?’ said he. + +Said she: ‘I am to show thee the way back home, which thou wilt not know +surely amidst this snow. Come, no words! thou shalt not have my tale +from me till we are in the wood: so the sooner we are there the sooner +shalt thou be pleased.’ + +So Face-of-god held his peace, and they went on swiftly side by side. +But it was not Bow-may’s wont to be silent for long, so presently she +said: + +‘Thou art good so do as I bid thee; but see thou, sweet playmate, for all +thou art a chieftain’s son, thou wert but feather-brained to ask me why I +shot at thee. I shoot at thee! that were a fine tale to tell her this +even! Or dost thou think that I could shoot at a big man on the snow at +two hundred paces and miss him three times? Unless I aimed to miss.’ + +‘Yea, Bow-may,’ said he, ‘art thou so deft a Bow-may? Thou shalt be in +my company whenso I fare to battle.’ + +‘Indeed,’ she said, ‘therein thou sayest but the bare truth: nowhere else +shall I be, and thou shalt find my bow no worse than a good shield.’ + +He laughed somewhat lightly; but she looked on him soberly and said: +‘Laugh in that fashion on the day of battle, and we shall be well content +with thee!’ + +So on they sped very swiftly, for their way was mostly down hill, so that +they were soon amongst the outskirting trees of the wood, and presently +after reached the edge of the thicket, beyond which the ground was but +thinly covered with snow. + +There they took off their skids, and went into the thick wood and sat +down under a hornbeam tree; and ere Gold-mane could open his mouth to +speak Bow-may began and said: + +‘Well it was that I fell in with thee, Dalesman, else had there been +murders of men to tell of; but ever she ordereth all things wisely, +though unwisely hast thou done to seek to her. Hearken! dost thou think +that thou hast done well that thou hast me here with my tale? Well, +hadst thou busied thyself with the slaying of elks, or with sitting +quietly at home, yet shouldest thou have heard my tale, and thou +shouldest have seen me in Burgstead in a day or two to tell thee +concerning the flitting of the token. And ill it is that I have missed +it, for fain had I been to behold the House of the Face, and to have seen +thee sitting there in thy dignity amidst the kindred of chieftains.’ + +And she sighed therewith. But he said: ‘Hold up thine heart, Bow-may! +On the word of a true man that shall befall thee one day. But come, +playmate, give me thy tale!’ + +‘Yea,’ she said, ‘I must now tell thee in the wild-wood what else I had +told thee in the Hall. Hearken closely, for this is the message: + +‘_Seek not to me again till thou hast the token_; _else assuredly wilt +thou be slain_, _and I shall be sorry for many a day_. _Thereof as now I +may not tell thee more_. _Now as to the token_: _When March is worn two +weeks fail not to go to and fro on the place of the Maiden Ward for an +hour before sunrise every day till thou hear tidings_.’ + +‘Now,’ quoth Bow-may, ‘hast thou hearkened and understood?’ + +‘Yea,’ said he. + +She said: ‘Then tell me the words of my message concerning the token.’ +And he did so word for word. Then she said: + +‘It is well, there is no more to say. Now must I lead thee till thou +knowest the wood; and then mayst thou get on to the smooth snow again, +and so home merrily. Yet, thou grey-eyed fellow, I will have my pay of +thee before I do that last work.’ + +Therewith she turned about to him and took his head between her hands, +and kissed him well favouredly both cheeks and mouth; and she laughed, +albeit the tears stood in her eyes as she said: ‘Now smelleth the wood +sweeter, and summer will come back again. And even thus will I do once +more when we stand side by side in battle array.’ + +He smiled kindly on her and nodded as they both rose up from the earth: +she had taken off her foul-weather gloves while they spake, and he kissed +her hand, which was shapely of fashion albeit somewhat brown, and hard of +palm, and he said in friendly wise: + +‘Thou art a merry faring-fellow, Bow-may, and belike shalt be withal a +true fighting-fellow. Come now, thou shalt be my sister and I thy +brother, in despite of those three shafts across the snow.’ + +He laughed therewith; she laughed not, but seemed glad, and said soberly: + +‘Yea, I may well be thy sister; for belike I also am of the people of the +Gods, who have come into these Dales by many far ways. I am of the House +of the Ragged Sword of the Kindred of the Wolf. Come, brother, let us +toward Wildlake’s Way.’ + +Therewith she went before him and led through the thicket as by an +assured and wonted path, and he followed hard at heel; but his thought +went from her for a while; for those words of brother and sister that he +had spoken called to his mind the Bride, and their kindness of little +children, and the days when they seemed to have nought to do but to make +the sun brighter, and the flowers fairer, and the grass greener, and the +birds happier each for the other; and a hard and evil thing it seemed to +him that now he should be making all these things nought and dreary to +her, now when he had become a man and deeds lay before him. Yet again +was he solaced by what Bow-may had said concerning battle to come; for he +deemed that she must have had this from the Friend’s foreseeing; and he +longed sore for deeds to do, wherein all these things might be cleared up +and washen clean as it were. + +So passed they through the wood a long way, and it was getting dark +therein, and Gold-mane said: + +‘Hold now, Bow-may, for I am at home here.’ + +She looked around and said: ‘Yea, so it is: I was thinking of many +things. Farewell and live merrily till March comes and the token!’ + +Therewith she turned and went her ways and was soon out of sight, and he +went lightly through the wood, and then on skids over the hard snow along +the Dale’s edge till he was come to the watch-tower, when the moon was +bright in heaven. + +Thus was he at Burgstead and the House of the Face betimes, and before +the hunters were gotten back. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. MURDER AMONGST THE FOLK OF THE WOODLANDERS. + + +SO wore away midwinter tidingless. Stone-face spake no more to +Face-of-god about the wood and its wights, when he saw that the young man +had come back hale and merry, seemed not to crave over-much to go back +thither. As for the Bride, she was sad, and more than misdoubted all; +but dauntless as she was in matters that try men’s hardihood, she yet +lacked heart to ask of Face-of-god what had befallen him since the +autumn-tide, or where he was with her. So she put a force upon herself +not to look sad or craving when she was in his company, as full oft she +was; for he rather sought her than shunned her. For when he saw her +thus, he deemed things were changing with her as they had changed with +him, and he bethought him of what he had spoken to Bow-may, and deemed +that even so he might speak with the Bride when the time came, and that +she would not be grieved beyond measure, and all would be well. + +Now came on the thaw, and the snow went, and the grass grew all up and +down the Dale, and all waters were big. And about this time arose +rumours of strange men in the wood, uncouth, vile, and murderous, and +many of the feebler sort were made timorous thereby. + +But a little before March was born came new tidings from the Woodlanders; +to wit: There came on a time to the house of a woodland carle, a worthy +goodman well renowned of all, two wayfarers in the first watch of the +night; and these men said that they were wending down to the Plain from a +far-away dale, Rose-dale to wit, which all men had heard of, and that +they had strayed from the way and were exceeding weary, and they craved a +meal’s meat and lodging for the night. + +This the goodman might nowise gainsay, and he saw no harm in it, +wherefore he bade them abide and be merry. + +These men, said they who told the tidings, were outlanders, and no man +had seen any like them before: they were armed, and bore short bows made +of horn, and round targets, and coats-of-fence done over with horn +scales; they had crooked swords girt to their sides, and axes of steel +forged all in one piece, right good weapons. They were clad in scarlet +and had much silver on their raiment and about their weapons, and great +rings of the same on their arms; and all this silver seemed brand-new. + +Now the Woodland Carle gave them of such things as he had, and was kind +and blithe to them: there were in his house besides himself five men of +his sons and kindred, and his wife and three daughters and two other +maids. So they feasted after the Woodlanders’ fashion, and went to bed a +little before midnight. Two hours after, the carle awoke and heard a +little stir, and he looked and saw the guests on their feet amidst the +hall clad in all their war-gear; and they had betwixt them his two +youngest daughters, maids of fifteen and twelve winters, and had bound +their hands and done clouts over their mouths, so that they might not cry +out; and they were just at point to carry them off. Thereat the goodman, +naked as he was, caught up his sword and made at these murder-carles, and +or ever they were ware of him he had hewn down one and turned to face the +other, who smote at him with his steel axe and gave him a great wound on +the shoulder, and therewithal fled out at the open door and forth into +the wood. + +The Woodlander made no stay to raise the cry (there was no need, for the +hall was astir now from end to end, and men getting to their weapons), +but ran out after the felon even as he was; and, in spite of his grievous +hurt, overran him no long way from the house before he had gotten into +the thicket. But the man was nimble and strong, and the goodman unsteady +from his wound, and by then the others of the household came up with the +hue and cry he had gotten two more sore wounds and was just making an end +of throttling the felon with his bare hands. So he fell into their arms +fainting from weakness, and for all they could do he died in two hours’ +time from that axe-wound in his shoulder, and another on the side of the +head, and a knife-thrust in his side; and he was a man of sixty winters. + +But the stranger he had slain outright; and the one whom he had smitten +in the hall died before the dawn, thrusting all help aside, and making no +sound of speech. + +When these tidings came to Burgstead they seemed great to men, and to +Gold-mane more than all. So he and many others took their weapons and +fared up to Wildlake’s Way, and so came to the Woodland Carles. But the +Woodlanders had borne out the carcasses of those felons and laid them on +the green before Wood-grey’s door (for that was the name of the dead +goodman), and they were saying that they would not bury such accursed +folk, but would bear them a little way so that they should not be vexed +with the stink of them, and cast them into the thicket for the wolf and +the wild-cat and the stoat to deal with; and they should lie there, +weapons and silver and all; and they deemed it base to strip such +wretches, for who would wear their raiment or bear their weapons after +them. + +There was a great ring of folk round about them when they of Burgstead +drew near, and they shouted for joy to see their neighbours, and made way +before them. Then the Dalesmen cursed these murderers who had slain so +good a man, and they all praised his manliness, whereas he ran out into +the night naked and wounded after his foe, and had fallen like his folk +of old time. + +It was a bright spring afternoon in that clearing of the Wood, and they +looked at the two dead men closely; and Gold-mane, who had been somewhat +silent and moody till then, became merry and wordy; for he beheld the men +and saw that they were utterly strange to him: they were short of +stature, crooked-legged, long-armed, very strong for their size: with +small blue eyes, snubbed-nosed, wide-mouthed, thin-lipped, very swarthy +of skin, exceeding foul of favour. He and all others wondered who they +were, and whence they came, for never had they seen their like; and the +Woodlanders, who often guested outlanders strayed from the way of divers +kindreds and nations, said also that none such had they ever seen. But +Stone-face, who stood by Gold-mane, shook his head and quoth he: + +‘The Wild-wood holdeth many marvels, and these be of them: the spawn of +evil wights quickeneth therein, and at other whiles it melteth away again +like the snow; so may it be with these carcasses.’ + +And some of the older folk of the Woodlanders who stood by hearkened what +he said, and deemed his words wise, for they remembered their ancient +lore and many a tale of old time. + +Thereafter they of Burgstead went into Wood-grey’s hall, or as many of +them as might, for it was but a poor place and not right great. There +they saw the goodman laid on the daïs in all his war-gear, under the last +tie-beam of his hall, whereon was carved amidst much goodly work of knots +and flowers and twining stems the image of the Wolf of the Waste, his +jaws open and gaping: the wife and daughters of the goodman and other +women of the folk stood about the bier singing some old song in a low +voice, and some sobbing therewithal, for the man was much beloved: and +much people of the Woodlanders was in the hall, and it was somewhat dusk +within. + +So the Burgstead men greeted that folk kindly and humbly, and again they +fell to praising the dead man, saying how his deed should long be +remembered in the Dale and wide about; and they called him a fearless man +and of great worth. And the women hearkened, and ceased their crooning +and their sobbing, and stood up proudly and raised their heads with +gleaming eyes; and as the words of the Burgstead men ended, they lifted +up their voices and sang loudly and clearly, standing together in a row, +ten of them, on the daïs of that poor hall, facing the gable and the +wolf-adorned tie-beam, heeding nought as they sang what was about or +behind them. + +And this is some of what they sang: + + Why sit ye bare in the spinning-room? + Why weave ye naked at the loom? + + Bare and white as the moon we be, + That the Earth and the drifting night may see. + + Now what is the worst of all your work? + What curse amidst the web shall lurk? + + The worst of the work our hands shall win + Is wrack and ruin round the kin. + + Shall the woollen yarn and the flaxen thread + Be gear for living men or dead? + + The woollen yarn and the flaxen thread + Shall flare ’twixt living men and dead. + + O what is the ending of your day? + When shall ye rise and wend away? + + Our day shall end to-morrow morn, + When we hear the voice of the battle-horn. + + Where first shall eyes of men behold + This weaving of the moonlight cold? + + There where the alien host abides + The gathering on the Mountain-sides. + + How long aloft shall the fair web fly + When the bows are bent and the spears draw nigh? + + From eve to morn and morn till eve + Aloft shall fly the work we weave. + + What then is this, the web ye win? + What wood-beast waxeth stark therein? + + We weave the Wolf and the gift of war + From the men that were to the men that are. + +So sang they: and much were all men moved at their singing, and there was +none but called to mind the old days of the Fathers, and the years when +their banner went wide in the world. + +But the Woodlanders feasted them of Burgstead what they might, and then +went the Dalesmen back to their houses; but on the morrow’s morrow they +fared thither again, and Wood-grey was laid in mound amidst a great +assemblage of the Folk. + +Many men said that there was no doubt that those two felons were of the +company of those who had ransacked the steads of Penny-thumb and +Harts-bane; and so at first deemed Bristler the son of Brightling: but +after a while, when he had had time to think of it, he changed his mind; +for he said that such men as these would have slain first and ransacked +afterwards: and some who loved neither Penny-thumb nor Harts-bane said +that they would not have been at the pains to choose for ransacking the +two worst men about the Dale, whose loss was no loss to any but +themselves. + +As for Gold-mane he knew not what to think, except that his friends of +the Mountain had had nought to do with it. + +So wore the days awhile. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. THE BRIDE SPEAKETH WITH FACE-OF-GOD. + + +FEBRUARY had died into March, and March was now twelve days old, on a +fair and sunny day an hour before noon; and Face-of-god was in a meadow a +scant mile down the Dale from Burgstead. He had been driving a bull into +a goodman’s byre nearby, and had had to spend toil and patience both in +getting him out of the fields and into the byre; for the beast was hot +with the spring days and the new grass. So now he was resting himself in +happy mood in an exceeding pleasant place, a little meadow to wit, on one +side whereof was a great orchard or grove of sweet chestnuts, which went +right up to the feet of the Southern Cliffs: across the meadow ran a +clear brook towards the Weltering Water, free from big stones, in some +places dammed up for the flooding of the deep pasture-meadow, and with +the grass growing on its lips down to the very water. There was a low +bank just outside the chestnut trees, as if someone had raised a dyke +about them when they were young, which had been trodden low and spreading +through the lapse of years by the faring of many men and beasts. The +primroses bloomed thick upon it now, and here and there along it was a +low blackthorn bush in full blossom; from the mid-meadow and right down +to the lip of the brook was the grass well nigh hidden by the blossoms of +the meadow-saffron, with daffodils sprinkled about amongst them, and in +the trees and bushes the birds, and chiefly the blackbirds, were singing +their loudest. + +There sat Face-of-god on the bank resting after his toil, and happy was +his mood; since in two days’ wearing he should be pacing the Maiden Ward +awaiting the token that was to lead him to Shadowy Vale; so he sat +calling to mind the Friend as he had last seen her, and striving as it +were to set her image standing on the flowery grass before him, till all +the beauty of the meadow seemed bare and empty to him without her. Then +it fell into his mind that this had been a beloved trysting-place betwixt +him and the Bride, and that often when they were little would they come +to gather chestnuts in the grove, and thereafter sit and prattle on the +old dyke; or in spring when the season was warm would they go barefoot +into the brook, seeking its treasures of troutlets and flowers and +clean-washed agate pebbles. Yea, and time not long ago had they met here +to talk as lovers, and sat on that very bank in all the kindness of good +days without a blemish, and both he and she had loved the place well for +its wealth of blossoms and deep grass and goodly trees and clear running +stream. + +As he thought of all this, and how often there he had praised to himself +her beauty, which he scarce dared praise to her, he frowned and slowly +rose to his feet, and turned toward the chestnut-grove, as though he +would go thence that way; but or ever he stepped down from the dyke he +turned about again, and even therewith, like the very image and ghost of +his thought, lo! the Bride herself coming up from out the brook and +wending toward him, her wet naked feet gleaming in the sun as they trod +down the tender meadow-saffron and brushed past the tufts of daffodils. +He stood staring at her discomforted, for on that day he had much to +think of that seemed happy to him, and he deemed that she would now +question him, and his mind pondered divers ways of answering her, and +none seemed good to him. She drew near and let her skirts fall over her +feet, and came to him, her gown hem dragging over the flowers: then she +stood straight up before him and greeted him, but reached not forth her +hand to him nor touched him. Her face was paler that its wont, and her +voice trembled as she spake to him and said: + +‘Face-of-god, I would ask thee a gift.’ + +‘All gifts,’ he said, ‘that thou mayest ask, and I may give, lie open to +thee.’ + +She said: ‘If I be alive when the time comes this gift thou mayst well +give me.’ + +‘Sweet kinswoman,’ said he, ‘tell me what it is that thou wouldest have +of me.’ And he was ill-at-ease as he waited for her answer. + +She said: ‘Ah, kinsman, kinsman! Woe on the day that maketh kinship +accursed to me because thou desirest it!’ + +He held his peace and was exceeding sorry; and she said: + +‘This is the gift that I ask of thee, that in the days to come when thou +art wedded, thou wilt give me the second man-child whom thou begettest.’ + +He said: ‘This shalt thou have, and would that I might give thee much +more. Would that we were little children together other again, as when +we played here in other days.’ + +She said: ‘I would have a token of thee that thou shalt show to the God, +and swear on it to give me the gift. For the times change.’ + +‘What token wilt thou have?’ said he. + +She said: ‘When next thou farest to the Wood, thou shalt bring me back, +it maybe a flower from the bank ye sit upon, or a splinter from the daïs +of the hall wherein ye feast, or maybe a ring or some matter that the +strangers are wont to wear. That shall be the token.’ + +She spoke slowly, hanging her head adown, but she lifted it presently and +looked into his face and said: + +‘Woe’s me, woe’s me, Gold-mane! How evil is this day, when bewailing me +I may not bewail thee also! For I know that thine heart is glad. All +through the winter have I kept this hidden in my heart, and durst not +speak to thee. But now the spring-tide hath driven me to it. Let summer +come, and who shall say?’ + +Great was his grief, and his shame kept him silent, and he had no word to +say; and again she said: + +‘Tell me, Gold-mane, when goest thou thither?’ + +He said: ‘I know not surely, may happen in two days, may happen in ten. +Why askest thou?’ + +‘O friend!’ she said, ‘is it a new thing that I should ask thee whither +thou goest and whence thou comest, and the times of thy coming and going. +Farewell to-day! Forget not the token. Woe’s me, that I may not kiss +thy fair face!’ + +She spread her arms abroad and lifted up her face as one who waileth, but +no sound came from her lips; then she turned about and went away as she +had come. + +But as for him he stood there after she was gone in all confusion, as if +he were undone: for he felt his manhood lessened that he should thus and +so sorely have hurt a friend, and in a manner against his will. And yet +he was somewhat wroth with her, that she had come upon him so suddenly, +and spoken to him with such mastery, and in so few words, and he with +none to make answer to her, and that she had so marred his pleasure and +his hope of that fair day. Then he sat him down again on the flowery +bank, and little by little his heart softened, and he once more called to +mind many a time when they had been there before, and the plays and the +games they had had together there when they were little. And he +bethought him of the days that were long to him then, and now seemed +short to him, and as if they were all grown together into one story, and +that a sweet one. Then his breast heaved with a sob, and the tears rose +to his eyes and burned and stung him, and he fell a-weeping for that +sweet tale, and wept as he had wept once before on that old dyke when +there had been some child’s quarrel between them, and she had gone away +and left him. + +Then after a while he ceased his weeping, and looked about him lest +anyone might be coming, and then he arose and went to and fro in the +chestnut-grove for a good while, and afterwards went his ways from that +meadow, saying to himself: ‘Yet remaineth to me the morrow of to-morrow, +and that is the first of the days of the watching for the token.’ + +But all that day he was slow to meet the eyes of men; and in the hall +that eve he was silent and moody; for from time to time it came over him +that some of his manhood had departed from him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. THE TOKEN COMETH FROM THE MOUNTAIN. + + +THE next day wore away tidingless; and the day after Face-of-god arose +betimes; for it was the first day of his watch, and he was at the Maiden +Ward before the time appointed on a very fair and bright morning, and he +went to and fro on that place, and had no tidings. So he came away +somewhat cast down, and said within himself: ‘Is it but a lie and a +mocking when all is said?’ + +On the morrow he went thither again, and the morn was wild and stormy +with drift of rain, and low clouds hurrying over the earth, though for +the sunrise they lifted a little in the east, and the sun came up over +the passes, amidst the red and angry rack of clouds. This morn also gave +him no tidings of the token, and he was wroth and perturbed in spirit: +but towards evening he said: + +‘It is well: ten days she gave me, so that she might be able to send +without fail on one of them; she will not fail me.’ + +So again on the morrow he was there betimes, and the morn was windy as on +the day before, but the clouds higher and of better promise for the day. +Face-of-god walked to and fro on the Maiden Ward, and as he turned toward +Burgstead for the tenth time, he heard, as he deemed, a bow-string twang +afar off, and even therewith came a shaft flying heavily like a winged +bird, which smote a great standing stone on the other side of the way, +where of old some chieftain had been buried, and fell to earth at its +foot. He went up to it and handled it, and saw that there was a piece of +thin parchment wrapped about it, which indeed he was eager to unwrap at +once, but forebore; because he was on the highway, and people were +already astir, and even then passed by him a goodman of the Dale with a +man of his going afield together, and they gave him the sele of the day. +So he went along the highway a little till he came to a place where was a +footbridge over into the meadow. He crossed thereby and went swiftly +till he reached a rising ground grown over with hazel-trees; there he sat +down among the rabbit-holes, the primrose and wild-garlic blooming about +him, and three blackbirds answering one another from the edges of the +coppice. Straightway when he had looked and seen none coming he broke +the threads that were wound about the scroll and the arrow, and unrolled +the parchment; and there was writing thereon in black ink of small +letters, but very fair, and this is what he read therein: + + _Come thou to the Mountain Hall by the path which thou knowest of_, + _on the morrow of the day whereon thou readest this_. _Rise betimes + and come armed_, _for there are other men than we in the wood_; _to + whom thy death should be a gain_. _When thou art come to the Hall_, + _thou shalt find no man therein_; _but a great hound only_, _tied to + a bench nigh the daïs_. _Call him by his name_, _Sure-foot to wit_, + _and give him to eat from the meat upon the board_, _and give him + water __to drink_. _If the day is then far spent_, _as it is like to + be_, _abide thou with the hound in the hall through the night_, _and + eat of what thou shalt find there_; _but see that the hound fares not + abroad till the morrow’s morn_: _then lead him out and bring him to + the north-east corner of the Hall_, _and he shall lift the slot for + thee that leadeth to the Shadowy Yale_. _Follow him and all good go + with thee_. + +Now when he had read this, earth seemed fair indeed about him, and he +scarce knew whither to turn or what to do to make the most of his joy. +He presently went back to Burgstead and into the House of the Face, where +all men were astir now, and the day was clearing. He hid the shaft under +his kirtle, for he would not that any should see it; so he went to his +shut-bed and laid it up in his chest, wherein he kept his chiefest +treasures; but the writing on the scroll he set in his bosom and so hid +it. He went joyfully and proudly, as one who knoweth more tidings and +better than those around him. But Stone-face beheld him, and said +‘Foster-son, thou art happy. Is it that the spring-tide is in thy blood, +and maketh thee blithe with all things, or hast thou some new tidings? +Nay, I would not have an answer out of thee; but here is good rede: when +next thou goest into the wood, it were nought so ill for thee to have a +valiant old carle by thy side; one that loveth thee, and would die for +thee if need were; one who might watch when thou wert seeking. Or else +beware! for there are evil things abroad in the Wood, and moreover the +brethren of those two felons who were slain at Carlstead.’ + +Then Gold-mane constrained himself to answer the old carle softly; and he +thanked him kindly for his offer, and said that so it should be before +long. So the talk between them fell, and Stone-face went away somewhat +well-pleased. + +And now was Face-of-god become wary; and he would not draw men’s eyes and +speech on him; so he went afield with Hall-face to deal with the lambs +and the ewes, and did like other men. No less wary was he in the hall +that even, and neither spake much nor little; and when his father spake +to him concerning the Bride, and made game of him as a somewhat sluggish +groom, he did not change countenance, but answered lightly what came to +hand. + +On the morrow ere the earliest dawn he was afoot, and he clad himself and +did on his hauberk, his father’s work, which was fine-wrought and a stout +defence, and reached down to his knees; and over that he did on a goodly +green kirtle well embroidered: he girt his war-sword to his side, and it +was the work of his father’s father, and a very good sword: its name was +Dale-warden. He did a good helm on his head, and slung a targe at his +back, and took two spears in his hand, short but strong-shafted and +well-steeled. Thus arrayed he left Burgstead before the dawn, and came +to Wildlake’s Way and betook him to the Woodland. He made no stop or +stay on the path, but ate his meat standing by an oak-tree close by the +half-blind track. When he came to the little wood-lawn, where was the +toft of the ancient house, he looked all round about him, for he deemed +that a likely place for those ugly wood-wights to set on him; but nought +befell him, though he stooped and drank of the woodland rill warily +enough. So he passed on; and there were other places also where he fared +warily, because they seemed like to hold lurking felons; though forsooth +the whole wood might well serve their turn. But no evil befell him, and +at last, when it yet lacked an hour to sunset, he came to the wood-lawn +where Wild-wearer had made his onset that other eve. + +He went straight up to the house, his heart beating, and he scarce +believing but that he should find the Friend abiding him there: but when +he pushed the door it gave way before him at once, and he entered and +found no man therein, and the walls stripped bare and no shield or weapon +hanging on the panels. But the hound he saw tied to a bench nigh the +daïs, and the bristles on the beast’s neck arose, and he snarled on +Face-of-god, and strained on his leathern leash. Then Face-of-god went +up to him and called him by his name, Sure-foot, and gave him his hand to +lick, and he brought him water, and fed him with flesh from the meat on +the board; so the beast became friendly and wagged his tail and whined +and slobbered his hand. + +Then he went all about the house, and saw and heard no living thing +therein save the mice in the panels and Sure-foot. So he came back to +the daïs, and sat him down at the board and ate his fill, and thought +concerning his case. And it came into his mind that the Woman of the +Mountain had some deed for him to do which would try his manliness and +exalt his fame; and his heart rose high and he was glad, and he saw +himself sitting beside her on the daïs of a very fair hall beloved and +honoured of all the folk, and none had aught to say against him or owed +him any grudge. Thus he pleased himself in thinking of the good days to +come, sitting there till the hall grew dusk and dark and the night-wind +moaned about it. + +Then after a while he arose and raked together the brands on the hearth, +and made light in the hall and looked to the door. And he found there +were bolts and bars thereto, so he shot the bolts and drew the bars into +their places and made all as sure as might be. Then he brought Sure-foot +down from the daïs, and tied him up so that he might lie down athwart the +door, and then lay down his hauberk with his naked sword ready to his +hand, and slept long while. + +When he awoke it was darker than when he had lain him for the moon had +set; yet he deemed that the day was at point of breaking. So he fetched +water and washed the night off him, and saw a little glimmer of the dawn. +Then he ate somewhat of the meat on the board, and did on his helm and +his other gear, and unbarred the door, and led Sure-foot without, and +brought him to the north-east corner of the house, and in a little while +he lifted the slot and they departed, the man and the hound, just as +broke dawn from over the mountains. + +Sure-foot led right into the heart of the pine-wood, and it was dark +enough therein, with nought but a feeble glimmer for some while, and long +was the way therethrough; but in two hours’ space was there something of +a break, and they came to the shore of a dark deep tarn on whose windless +and green waters the daylight shone fully. The hound skirted the water, +and led on unchecked till the trees began to grow smaller and the air +colder for all that the sun was higher; for they had been going up and up +all the way. + +So at last after a six hours’ journey they came clean out of the +pine-wood, and before them lay the black wilderness of the bare +mountains, and beyond them, looking quite near now, the great ice-peaks, +the wall of the world. It was but an hour short of noon by this time, +and the high sun shone down on a barren boggy moss which lay betwixt them +and the rocky waste. Sure-foot made no stay, but threaded the ways that +went betwixt the quagmires, and in another hour led Face-of-god into a +winding valley blinded by great rocks, and everywhere stony and rough, +with a trickle of water running amidst of it. The hound fared on up the +dale to where the water was bridged by a great fallen stone, and so over +it and up a steep bent on the further side, on to a marvellously rough +mountain-neck, whiles mere black sand cumbered with scattered rocks and +stones, whiles beset with mires grown over with the cottony mire-grass; +here and there a little scanty grass growing; otherwhere nought but dwarf +willow ever dying ever growing, mingled with moss or red-blossomed +sengreen; and all blending together into mere desolation. + +Few living things they saw there; up on the neck a few sheep were grazing +the scanty grass, but there was none to tend them; yet Face-of-god deemed +the sight of them good, for there must be men anigh who owned them. For +the rest, the whimbrel laughed across the mires; high up in heaven a +great eagle was hanging; once and again a grey fox leapt up before them, +and the heath-fowl whirred up from under Face-of-god’s feet. A raven who +was sitting croaking on a rock in that first dale stirred uneasily on his +perch as he saw them, and when they were passed flapped his wings and +flew after them croaking still. + +Now they fared over that neck somewhat east, making but slow way because +the ground was so broken and rocky; and in another hour’s space Sure-foot +led down-hill due east to where the stony neck sank into another desolate +miry heath still falling toward the east, but whose further side was +walled by a rampart of crags cleft at their tops into marvellous-shapes, +coal-black, ungrassed and unmossed. Thitherward the hound led straight, +and Gold-mane followed wondering: as he drew near them he saw that they +were not very high, the tallest peak scant fifty feet from the face of +the heath. + +They made their way through the scattered rocks at the foot of these +crags, till, just where the rock-wall seemed the closest, the way through +the stones turned into a path going through it skew-wise; and it was now +so clear a path that belike it had been bettered by men’s hands. Down +thereby Face-of-god followed the hound, deeming that he was come to the +gates of the Shadowy Vale, and the path went down steeply and swiftly. +But when he had gone down a while, the rocks on his right hand sank lower +for a space, so that he could look over and see what lay beneath. + +There lay below him a long narrow vale quite plain at the bottom, walled +on the further side as on the hither by sheer rocks of black stone. The +plain was grown over with grass, but he could see no tree therein: a deep +river, dark and green, ran through the vale, sometimes through its +midmost, sometimes lapping the further rock-wall: and he thought indeed +that on many a day in the year the sun would never shine on that valley. + +Thus much he saw, and then the rocks rose again and shut it from his +sight; and at last they drew so close together over head that he was in a +way going through a cave with little daylight coming from above, and in +the end he was in a cave indeed and mere darkness: but with the last +feeble glimmer of light he thought he saw carved on a smooth space of the +living rock at his left hand the image of a wolf. + +This cave lasted but a little way, and soon the hound and the man were +going once more between sheer black rocks, and the path grew steeper yet +and was cut into steps. At last there was a sharp turn, and they stood +on the top of a long stony scree, down which Sure-foot bounded eagerly, +giving tongue as he went; but Face-of-god stood still and looked, for now +the whole Dale lay open before him. + +That river ran from north to south, and at the south end the cliffs drew +so close to it that looking thence no outgate could be seen; but at the +north end there was as it were a dreary street of rocks, the river +flowing amidmost and leaving little foothold on either side, somewhat as +it was with the pass leading from the mountains into Burgdale. + +Amidmost of the Dale a little toward the north end he saw a doom-ring of +black stones, and hard by it an ancient hall builded of the same black +stone both wall and roof, and thitherward was Sure-foot now running. +Face-of-god looked up and down the Dale and could see no break in the +wall of sheer rock: toward the southern end he saw a few booths and cots +built roughly of stone and thatched with turf; thereabout he saw a few +folk moving about, the most of whom seemed to be women and children; +there were some sheep and lambs near these cots, and a herd of fifty or +so of somewhat goodly mountain-kine were feeding higher up the valley. +He could look down into the river from where he stood, and he saw that it +ran between rocky banks going straight down from the face of the meadow, +which was rather high above the water, so that it seemed little likely +that the water should rise over its banks, either in summer or winter; +and in summer was it like to be highest, because the vale was so near to +the high mountains and their snows. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. FACE-OF-GOD TALKETH WITH THE FRIEND IN SHADOWY VALE. + + +IT was now about two hours after noon, and a broad band of sunlight lay +upon the grass of the vale below Gold-mane’s feet; he went lightly down +the scree, and strode forward over the level grass toward the Doom-ring, +his helm and war-gear glittering bright in the sun. He must needs go +through the Doom-ring to come to the Hall, and as he stepped out from +behind the last of the big upright-stones, he saw a woman standing on the +threshold of the Hall-door, which was but some score of paces from him, +and knew her at once for the Friend. + +She was clad like himself in a green kirtle gaily embroidered and fitting +close to her body, and had no gown or cloak over it; she had a golden +fillet on her head beset with blue mountain stones, and her hair hung +loose behind her. + +Her beauty was so exceeding, and so far beyond all memory of her that his +mind had held, that once more fear of her fell upon Face-of-god, and he +stood still with beating heart till she should speak to him. But she +came forward swiftly with both her hands held out, smiling and +happy-faced, and looking very kindly on him, and she took his hands and +said to him: + +‘Now welcome, Gold-mane, welcome, Face-of-god! and twice welcome art thou +and threefold. Lo! this is the day that thou asked for: art thou happy +in it?’ + +He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them timorously, but said +nought; and therewithal Sure-foot came running forth from the Hall, and +fell to bounding round about them, barking noisily after the manner of +dogs who have met their masters again; and still she held his hands and +beheld him kindly. Then she called the hound to her, and patted him on +the neck and quieted him, and then turned to Face-of-god and laughed +happily and said: + +‘I do not bid thee hold thy peace; yet thou sayest nought. Is well with +thee?’ + +‘Yea,’ he said, ‘and more than well.’ + +‘Thou seemest to me a goodly warrior,’ she said; ‘hast thou met any +foemen yesterday or this morning?’ + +‘Nay,’ said he, ‘none hindered me; thou hast made the ways easy to me.’ + +She said soberly, ‘Such as I might do, I did. But we may not wield +everything, for our foes are many, and I feared for thee. But come thou +into our house, which is ours, and far more ours than the booth before +the pine-wood.’ + +She took his hand again and led him toward the door, but Face-of-god +looked up, and above the lintel he saw carved on the dark stone that +image of the Wolf, even as he had seen it carved on Wood-grey’s tie-beam; +and therewith such thoughts came into his mind that he stopped to look, +pressing the Friend’s hand hard as though bidding her note it. The stone +wherein the image was carved was darker than the other building stones, +and might be called black; the jaws of the wood-beast were open and +gaping, and had been painted with cinnabar, but wind and weather had worn +away the most of the colour. + +Spake the Friend: ‘So it is: thou beholdest the token of the God and +Father of out Fathers, that telleth the tale of so many days, that the +days which now pass by us be to them but as the drop in the sea of +waters. Thou beholdest the sign of our sorrow, the memory of our wrong; +yet is it also the token of our hope. Maybe it shall lead thee far.’ + +‘Whither?’ said he. But she answered not a great while, and he looked at +her as she stood a-gazing on the image, and saw how the tears stole out +of her eyes and ran adown her cheeks. Then again came the thought to him +of Wood-grey’s hall, and the women of the kindred standing before the +Wolf and singing of him; and though there was little comeliness in them +and she was so exceeding beauteous, he could not but deem that they were +akin to her. + +But after a while she wiped the tears from her face and turned to him and +said: ‘My friend, the Wolf shall lead thee no-whither but where I also +shall be, whatsoever peril or grief may beset the road or lurk at the +ending thereof. Thou shalt be no thrall, to labour while I look on.’ + +His heart swelled within him as she spoke, and he was at point to beseech +her love that moment; but now her face had grown gay and bright again, +and she said while he was gathering words to speak withal: + +‘Come in, Gold-mane, come into our house; for I have many things to say +to thee. And moreover thou art so hushed, and so fearsome in thy mail, +that I think thou yet deemest me to be a Wight of the Waste, such as +Stone-face thy Fosterer told thee tales of, and forewarned thee. So +would I eat before thee, and sign the meat with the sign of the +Earth-god’s Hammer, to show thee that he is in error concerning me, and +that I am a very woman flesh and fell, as my kindred were before me.’ + +He laughed and was exceeding glad, and said: ‘Tell me now, kind friend, +dost thou deem that Stone-face’s tales are mere mockery of his dreams, +and that he is beguiled by empty semblances or less? Or are there such +Wights in the Waste.’ + +‘Nay,’ she said, ‘the man is a true man; and of these things are there +many ancient tales which we may not doubt. Yet so it is that such wights +have I never yet seen, nor aught to scare me save evil men: belike it is +that I have been over-much busied in dealing with sorrow and ruin to look +after them: or it may be that they feared me and the wrath-breeding grief +of the kindred.’ + +He looked at her earnestly, and the wisdom of her heart seemed to enter +into his; but she said: ‘It is of men we must talk, and of me and thee. +Come with me, my friend.’ + +And she stepped lightly over the threshold and drew him in. The Hall was +stern and grim and somewhat dusky, for its windows were but small: it was +all of stone, both walls and roof. There was no timber-work therein save +the benches and chairs, a little about the doors at the lower end that +led to the buttery and out-bowers; and this seemed to have been wrought +of late years; yea, the chairs against the gable on the daïs were of +stone built into the wall, adorned with carving somewhat sparingly, the +image of the Wolf being done over the midmost of them. He looked up and +down the Hall, and deemed it some seventy feet over all from end to end; +and he could see in the dimness those same goodly hangings on the wall +which he had seen in the woodland booth. + +She led him up to the daïs, and stood there leaning up against the arm of +one of those stone seats silent for a while; then she turned and looked +at him, and said: + +‘Yea, thou lookest a goodly warrior; yet am I glad that thou camest +hither without battle. Tell me, Gold-mane,’ she said, taking one of his +spears from his hand, ‘art thou deft with the spear?’ + +‘I have been called so,’ said he. + +She looked at him sweetly and said: ‘Canst thou show me the feat of +spear-throwing in this Hall, or shall we wend outside presently that I +may see thee throw?’ + +‘The Hall sufficeth,’ he said. ‘Shall I set this steel in the lintel of +the buttery door yonder?’ + +‘Yea, if thou canst,’ she said. + +He smiled and took the spear from her, and poised it and shook it till it +quivered again, then suddenly drew back his arm and cast, and the shaft +sped whistling down the dim hall, and smote the aforesaid door-lintel and +stuck there quivering: then he sprang down from the daïs, and ran down +the hall, and put forth his hand and pulled it forth from the wood, and +was on the daïs again in a trice, and cast again, and the second time set +the spear in the same place, and then took his other spear from the board +and cast it, and there stood the two staves in the wood side by side; +then he went soberly down the hall and drew them both out of the wood and +came back to her, while she stood watching him, her cheek flushed, her +lips a little parted. + +She said: ‘Good spear-casting, forsooth! and far above what our folk can +do, who be no great throwers of the spear.’ + +Gold-mane laughed: ‘Sooth is that,’ said he, ‘or hardly were I here to +teach thee spear-throwing.’ + +‘Wilt thou _never_ be paid for that simple onslaught?’ she said. + +‘Have I been paid then?’ said he. + +She reddened, for she remembered her word to him on the mountain; and he +put his hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek, but timorously; nor +did she withstand him or shrink aback, but said soberly: + +‘Good indeed is thy spear-throwing, and meseems my brother will love thee +when he hath seen thee strike a stroke or two in wrath. But, fair +warrior, there be no foemen here: so get thee to the lower end of the +Hall, and in the bower beyond shalt thou find fresh water; there wash the +waste from off thee, and do off thine helm and hauberk, and come back +speedily and eat with me; for I hunger, and so dost thou.’ + +He did as she bade him, and came back presently bearing in his hand both +helm and hauberk, and he looked light-limbed and trim and lissome, an +exceeding goodly man. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. THE FAIR WOMAN TELLETH FACE-OF-GOD OF HER KINDRED. + + +WHEN he came back to the daïs he saw that there was meat upon the board, +and the Friend said to him: + +‘Now art thou Gold-mane indeed: but come now, sit by me and eat, though +the Wood-woman giveth thee but a sorry banquet, O guest; but from the +Dale it is, and we be too far now from the dwellings of men to have +delicate meat on the board, though to-night when they come back thy cheer +shall be better. Yet even then thou shalt have no such dainties as +Stone-face hath imagined for thee at the hands of the Wood-wight.’ + +She laughed therewith, and he no less; and in sooth the meat was but +simple, of curds and new cheese, meat of the herdsmen. But Face-of-god +said gaily: ‘Sweet it shall be to me; good is all that the Friend +giveth.’ + +Then she raised her hand and made the sign of the Hammer over the board, +and looked up at him and said: + +‘Hath the Earth-god changed my face, Gold-mane, to what I verily am?’ + +He held his face close to hers and looked into it, and him-seemed it was +as pure as the waters of a mountain lake, and as fine and well-wrought +every deal of it as when his father had wrought in his stithy many days +and fashioned a small piece of great mastery. He was ashamed to kiss her +again, but he said to himself, ‘This is the fairest woman of the world, +whom I have sworn to wed this year.’ Then he spake aloud and said: + +‘I see the face of the Friend, and it will not change to me.’ + +Again she reddened a little, and the happy look in her face seemed to +grow yet sweeter, and he was bewildered with longing and delight. + +But she stood up and went to an ambrye in the wall and brought forth a +horn shod and lipped with silver of ancient fashion, and she poured wine +into it and held it forth and said: + +‘O guest from the Dale, I pledge thee! and when thou hast drunk to me in +turn we will talk of weighty matters. For indeed I bear hopes in my +hands too heavy for the daughters of men to bear; and thou art a +chieftain’s son, and mayst well help me to bear them; so let us talk +simply and without guile, as folk that trust one another.’ + +So she drank and held out the horn to him, and he took the horn and her +hand both, and he kissed her hand and said: + +‘Here in this Hall I drink to the Sons of the Wolf, whosoever they be.’ +Therewith he drank and he said: ‘Simply and guilelessly indeed will I +talk with thee; for I am weary of lies, and for thy sake have I told a +many.’ + +‘Thou shalt tell no more,’ she said; ‘and as for the health thou hast +drunk, it is good, and shall profit thee. Now sit we here in these +ancient seats and let us talk.’ + +So they sat them down while the sun was westering in the March afternoon, +and she said: + +‘Tell me first what tidings have been in the Dale.’ + +So he told her of the ransackings and of the murder at Carlstead. + +She said: ‘These tidings have we heard before, and some deal of them we +know better than ye do, or can; for we were the ransackers of Penny-thumb +and Harts-bane. Thereof will I say more presently. What other tidings +hast thou to tell of? What oaths were sworn upon the Boar last Yule?’ + +So he told her of the oath of Bristler the son of Brightling. She smiled +and said: ‘He shall keep his oath, and yet redden no blade.’ + +Then he told of his father’s oath, and she said: + +‘It is good; but even so would he do and no oath sworn. All men may +trust Iron-face. And thou, my friend, what oath didst thou swear?’ + +His face grew somewhat troubled as he said: ‘I swore to wed the fairest +woman in the world, though the Dalesmen gainsaid me, and they beyond the +Dale.’ + +‘Yea,’ she said, ‘and there is no need to ask thee whom thou didst mean +by thy “fairest woman,” for I have seen that thou deemest me fair enough. +My friend, maybe thy kindred will be against it, and the kindred of the +Bride; and it might be that my kindred would have gainsaid it if things +were not as they are. But though all men gainsay it, yet will not I. It +is meet and right that we twain wed.’ + +She spake very soberly and quietly, but when she had spoken there was +nothing in his heart but joy and gladness: yet shame of her loveliness +refrained him, and he cast down his eyes before hers. Then she said in a +kind voice: + +‘I know thee, how glad thou art of this word of mine, because thou +lookest on me with eyes of love, and thinkest of me as better than I am; +though I am no ill woman and no beguiler. But this is not all that I +have to say to thee, though it be much; for there are more folk in the +world than thou and I only. But I told thee this first, that thou +mightest trust me in all things. So, my friend, if thou canst, refrain +thy joy and thy longing a little, and hearken to what concerneth thee and +me, and thy people and mine.’ + +‘Fair woman and sweet friend,’ he said, ‘thou knowest of a gladness which +is hard to bear if one must lay it aside for a while; and of a longing +which is hard to refrain if it mingle with another longing—knowest thou +not?’ + +‘Yea,’ she said, ‘I know it.’ + +‘Yet,’ said Face-of-god, ‘I will forbear as thou biddest me. Tell me, +then, what were the felons who were slain at Carlstead? Knowest thou of +them?’ + +‘Over well,’ she said, ‘they are our foes this many a year; and since we +met last autumn they have become foes of you Dalesmen also. Soon shall +ye have tidings of them; and it was against them that I bade thee arm +yesterday.’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Is it against them that thou wouldst have us do battle +along with thy folk?’ + +‘So it is,’ she said; ‘no other foemen have we. And now, Gold-mane, thou +art become a friend of the Wolf, and shalt before long be of affinity +with our House; that other day thou didst ask me to tell thee of me and +mine, and now will I do according to thine asking. Short shall my tale +be; because maybe thou shalt hear it told again, and in goodly wise, +before thine whole folk. + +‘As thou wottest we be now outlaws and Wolves’ Heads; and whiles we lift +the gear of men, but ever if we may of ill men and not of good; there is +no worthy goodman of the Dale from whom we would take one hoof, or a skin +of wine, or a cake of wax. + +‘Wherefore are we outlaws? Because we have been driven from our own, and +we bore away our lives and our weapons, and little else; and for our +lands, thou seest this Vale in the howling wilderness and how narrow and +poor it is, though it hath been the nurse of warriors in time past. + +‘Hearken! Time long ago came the kindred of the Wolf to these Mountains +of the World; and they were in a pass in the stony maze and the utter +wilderness of the Mountains, and the foe was behind them in numbers not +to be borne up against. And so it befell that the pass forked, and there +were two ways before our Folk; and one part of them would take the way to +the north and the other the way to the south; and they could not agree +which way the whole Folk should take. So they sundered into two +companies, and one took one way and one another. Now as to those who +fared by the southern road, we knew not what befell them, nor for long +and long had we any tale of them. + +‘But we who took the northern road, we happened on this Vale amidst the +wilderness, and we were weary of fleeing from the over-mastering foe; and +the dale seemed enough, and a refuge, and a place to dwell in, and no man +was there before us, and few were like to find it, and we were but a few. +So we dwelt here in this Vale for as wild as it is, the place where the +sun shineth never in the winter, and scant is the summer sunshine +therein. Here we raised a Doom-ring and builded us a Hall, wherein thou +now sittest beside me, O friend, and we dwelt here many seasons. + +‘We had a few sheep in the wilderness, and a few neat fed down the grass +of the Vale; and we found gems and copper in the rocks about us wherewith +at whiles to chaffer with the aliens, and fish we drew from our river the +Shivering Flood. Also it is not to be hidden that in those days we did +not spare to lift the goods of men; yea, whiles would our warriors fare +down unto the edges of the Plain and lie in wait there till the time +served, and then drive the spoil from under the very walls of the Cities. +Our men were not little-hearted, nor did our women lament the death of +warriors over-much, for they were there to bear more warriors to the +Folk. + +‘But the seasons passed, and the Folk multiplied in Shadowy Vale, and +livelihood seemed like to fail them, and needs must they seek wider +lands. So by ways which thou wilt one day wot of, we came into a valley +that lieth north-west of Shadowy Vale: a land like thine of Burgdale, or +better; wide it was, plenteous of grass and trees, well watered, full of +all things that man can desire. + +‘Were there men before us in this Dale? sayest thou. Yea, but not very +many, and they feeble in battle, weak of heart, though strong of body. +These, when they saw the Sons of the Wolf with weapons in their hands, +felt themselves puny before us, and their hearts failed them; and they +came to us with gifts, and offered to share the Dale between them and us, +for they said there was enough for both folks. So we took their offer +and became their friends; and some of our Houses wedded wives of the +strangers, and gave them their women to wife. Therein they did amiss; +for the blended Folk as the generations passed became softer than our +blood, and many were untrusty and greedy and tyrannous, and the days of +the whoredom fell upon us, and when we deemed ourselves the mightiest +then were we the nearest to our fall. But the House whereof I am would +never wed with these Westlanders, and other Houses there were who had +affinity with us who chiefly wedded with us of the Wolf, and their +fathers had come with ours into that fruitful Dale; and these were called +the Red Hand, and the Silver Arm, and the Golden Bushel, and the Ragged +Sword. Thou hast heard those names once before, friend?’ + +‘Yea,’ he said, and as he spoke the picture of that other day came back +to him, and he called to mind all that he had said, and his happiness of +that hour seemed the more and the sweeter for that memory. + +She went on: ‘Fair and goodly is that Dale as mine own eyes have seen, +and plentiful of all things, and up in its mountains to the east are +caves and pits whence silver is digged abundantly; therefore is the Dale +called Silver-dale. Hast thou heard thereof, my friend?’ + +‘Nay,’ said Face-of-god, ‘though I have marvelled whence ye gat such +foison of silver.’ + +He looked on her and marvelled, for now she seemed as if it were another +woman: her eyes were gleaming bright, her lips were parted; there was a +bright red flush on the pommels of her two cheeks as she spake again and +said: + +‘Happy lived the Folk in Silver-dale for many and many winters and +summers: the seasons were good and no lack was there: little sickness +there was and less war, and all seemed better than well. It is strange +that ye Dalesmen have not heard of Silver-dale.’ + +‘Nay,’ said he, ‘but I have not; of Rose-dale have I heard, as a land +very far away: but no further do we know of toward that aírt. Lieth +Silver-dale anywhere nigh to Rose-dale?’ + +She said: ‘It is the next dale to it, yet is it a far journey betwixt the +two, for the ice-sea pusheth a horn in betwixt them; and even below the +ice the mountain-neck is passable to none save a bold crag-climber, and +to him only bearing his life in his hands. But, my friend, I am but +lingering over my tale, because it grieveth me sore to have to tell it. +Hearken then! In the days when I had seen but ten summers, and my +brother was a very young man, but exceeding strong, and as beautiful as +thou art now, war fell on us without rumour or warning; for there swarmed +into Silver-dale, though not by the ways whereby we had entered it, a +host of aliens, short of stature, crooked of limb, foul of aspect, but +fierce warriors and armed full well: they were men having no country to +go back to, though they had no women or children with them, as we had +when we were young in these lands, but used all women whom they took as +their beastly lust bade them, making them their thralls if they slew them +not. Soon we found that these foemen asked no more of us than all we +had, and therewithal our lives to be cast away or used for their service +as beasts of burden or pleasure. There then we gathered our fighting-men +and withstood them; and if we had been all of the kindreds of the Wolf +and the fruit of the wives of warriors, we should have driven back these +felons and saved the Dale, though it maybe more than half ruined: but the +most part of us were of that mingled blood, or of the generations of the +Dalesmen whom we had conquered long ago, and stout as they were of body +their hearts failed them, and they gave themselves up to the aliens to be +as their oxen and asses. + +‘Why make a long tale of it? We who were left, and could brook death but +not thraldom, fought it out together, women as well as men, till the +sweetness of life and a happy chance for escape bid us flee, vanquished +but free men. For at the end of three days’ fight we had been driven up +to the easternmost end of the Dale, and up anigh to the jaws of the pass +whereby the Folk had first come into Silver-dale, and we had those with +us who knew every cranny of that way, while to strangers who knew it not +it was utterly impassable; night was coming on also, and even those +murder-carles were weary with slaying; and, moreover, on this last day, +when they saw that they had won all, they were fighting to keep, and not +to slay, and a few stubborn carles and queens, of what use would they be, +or where was the gain of risking life to win them? + +‘So they forbore us, and night came on moonless and dark; and it was the +early spring season, when the days are not yet long, and so by night and +cloud we fled away, and back again to Shadowy Vale. + +‘Forsooth, we were but a few; for when we were gotten into this Vale, +this strip of grass and water in the wilderness, and had told up our +company, we were but two hundred and thirty and five of men and women and +children. For there were an hundred and thirty and three grown men of +all ages, and of women grown seventy and five, and one score and seven +children, whereof I was one; for, as thou mayst deem, it was easier for +grown men with weapons in their hands to escape from that slaughter than +for women and children. + +‘There sat we in yonder Doom-ring and took counsel, and to some it seemed +good that we should all dwell together in Shadowy Vale, and beset the +skirts of the foemen till the days should better; but others deemed that +there was little avail therein; and there was a mighty man of the +kindred, Stone-wolf by name, a man of middle-age, and he said, that late +in life had he tasted of war, and though the banquet was made bitter with +defeat, yet did the meat seem wholesome to him. “Come down with me to +the Cities of the Plain,” said he, “all you who are stout warriors; and +leave we here the old men and the swains and the women and children. +Hateful are the folk there, and full of malice, but soft withal and +dastardly. Let us go down thither and make ourselves strong amongst +them, and sell our valour for their wealth till we come to rule them, and +they make us their kings, and we establish the Folk of the Wolf amongst +the aliens; then will we come back hither and bring away that which we +have left.” + +‘So he spake, and the more part of the warriors yea said his rede, and +they went with him to the Westland, and amongst these was my brother +Folk-might (for that is his name in the kindred). And I sorrowed at his +departure, for he had borne me thither out of the flames and the clash of +swords and the press of battle, and to me had he ever been kind and +loving, albeit he hath had the Words of hard and froward used on him full +oft. + +‘So in this Vale abode we that were left, and the seasons passed; some of +the elders died, and some of the children also; but more children were +born, for amongst us were men and women to whom it was lawful to wed with +each other. Even with this scanty remnant was left some of the life of +the kindred of old days; and after we had been here but a little while, +the young men, yea and the old also, and even some of the women, would +steal through passes that we, and we only, knew of, and would fall upon +the Aliens in Silver-dale as occasion served, and lift their goods both +live and dead; and this became both a craft and a pastime amongst us. +Nor may I hide that we sometimes went lifting otherwhere; for in the +summer and autumn we would fare west a little and abide in the woods the +season through, and hunt the deer thereof, and whiles would we drive the +spoil from the scattered folk not far from your Shepherd-Folk; but with +the Shepherds themselves and with you Dalesmen we meddled not. + +‘Now that little wood-lawn with the toft of an ancient dwelling in it, +wherein, saith Bow-may, thou didst once rest, was one of our summer +abodes; and later on we built the hall under the pine-wood that thou +knowest. + +‘Thus then grew up our young men; and our maids were little softer; e’en +such as Bow-may is (and kind is she withal), and it seemed in very sooth +as if the Spirit of the Wolf was with us, and the roughness of the Waste +made us fierce; and law we had not and heeded not, though love was +amongst us.’ + +She stopped awhile and fell a-musing, and her face softened, and she +turned to him with that sweet happy look upon it and said: + +‘Desolate and dreary is the Dale, thou deemest, friend; and yet for me I +love it and its dark-green water, and it is to me as if the Fathers of +the kindred visit it and hold converse with us; and there I grew up when +I was little, before I knew what a woman was, and strange communings had +I with the wilderness. Friend, when we are wedded, and thou art a great +chieftain, as thou wilt be, I shall ask of thee the boon to suffer me to +abide here at whiles that I may remember the days when I was little and +the love of the kindred waxed in me.’ + +‘This is but a little thing to ask,’ said Face-of-god; ‘I would thou +hadst asked me more.’ + +‘Fear not,’ she said, ‘I shall ask thee for much and many things; and +some of them belike thou shalt deny me.’ + +He shook his head; but she smiled in his face and said: + +‘Yea, so it is, friend; but hearken. The seasons passed, and six years +wore, and I was grown a tall slim maiden, fleet of foot and able to +endure toil enough, though I never bore weapons, nor have done. So on a +fair even of midsummer when we were together, the most of us, round about +this Hall and the Doom-ring, we saw a tall man in bright war-gear come +forth into the Dale by the path that thou camest, and then another and +another till there were two score and seven men-at-arms standing on the +grass below the scree yonder; by that time had we gotten some weapons in +our hands, and we stood together to meet the new-comers, but they drew no +sword and notched no shaft, but came towards us laughing and joyous, and +lo! it was my brother Folk-might and his men, those that were left of +them, come back to us from the Westland. + +‘Glad indeed was I to behold him; and for him when he had taken me in his +arms and looked up and down the Dale, he cried out: ‘In many fair places +and many rich dwellings have I been; but this is the hour that I have +looked for.’ + +‘Now when we asked him concerning Stone-wolf and the others who were +missing (for ten tens of stalwarth men had fared to the Westland), he +swept out his hand toward the west and said with a solemn face: “There +they lie, and grass groweth over their bones, and we who have come aback, +and ye who have abided, these are now the children of the Wolf: there are +no more now on the earth.” + +‘Let be! It was a fair even and high was the feast in the Hall that +night, and sweet was the converse with our folk come back. A glad man +was my brother Folk-might when he heard that for years past we had been +lifting the gear of men, and chiefly of the Aliens in Silver-dale: and he +himself was become learned in war and a deft leader of men. + +‘So the days passed and the seasons, and we lived on as we might; but +with Folk-might’s return there began to grow up in all our hearts what +had long been flourishing in mine, and that was the hope of one day +winning back our own again, and dying amidst the dear groves of +Silver-dale. Within these years we had increased somewhat in number; for +if we had lost those warriors in the Westland, and some old men who had +died in the Dale, yet our children had grown up (I have now seen twenty +and one summers) and more were growing up. Moreover, after the first +year, from the time when we began to fall upon the Dusky Men of +Silver-dale, from time to time they who went on such adventures set free +such thralls of our blood as they could fall in with and whom they could +trust in, and they dwelt (and yet dwell) with us in the Dale: first and +last we have taken in three score and twelve of such men, and a score of +women-thralls withal. + +‘Now during these seasons, and not very long ago, after I was a woman +grown, the thought came to me, and to Folk-might also, that there were +kindreds of the people dwelling anear us whom we might so deal with that +they should become our friends and brothers in arms, and that through +them we might win back Silver-dale. + +‘Of Rose-dale we wotted already that the Folk were nought of our blood, +feeble in the field, cowed by the Dusky Men, and at last made thralls to +them; so nought was to do there. But Folk-might went to and fro to +gather tidings: at whiles I with him, at whiles one or more of +Wood-father’s children, who with their father and mother and Bow-may have +abided in the Vale ever since the Great Undoing. + +‘Soon he fell in with thy Folk, and first of all with the Woodlanders, +and that was a joy to him; for wot ye what? He got to know that these +men were the children of those of our Folk who had sundered from us in +the mountain passes time long and long ago; and he loved them, for he saw +that they were hardy and trusty, and warriors at heart. + +‘Then he went amongst the Shepherd-Folk, and he deemed them good men +easily stirred, and deemed that they might soon be won to friendship; and +he knew that they were mostly come from the Houses of the Woodlanders, so +that they also were of the kindred. + +‘And last he came into Burgdale, and found there a merry and happy Folk, +little wont to war, but stout-hearted, and nowise puny either of body or +soul; he went there often and learned much about them, and deemed that +they would not be hard to win to fellowship. And he found that the House +of the Face was the chiefest house there; and that the Alderman and his +sons were well beloved of all the folk, and that they were the men to be +won first, since through them should all others be won. I also went to +Burgstead with him twice, as I told thee erst; and I saw thee, and I +deemed that thou wouldest lightly become our friend; and it came into my +mind that I myself might wed thee, and that the House of the Face thereby +might have affinity thenceforth with the Children of the Wolf.’ + +He said: ‘Why didst thou deem thus of me, O friend?’ + +She laughed and said: ‘Dost thou long to hear me say the words when thou +knowest my thought well? So be it. I saw thee both young and fair; and +I knew thee to be the son of a noble, worthy, guileless man and of a +beauteous woman of great wits and good rede. And I found thee to be kind +and open-handed and simple like thy father, and like thy mother wiser +than thou thyself knew of thyself; and that thou wert desirous of deeds +and fain of women.’ + +She was silent for a while, and he also: then he said: ‘Didst thou draw +me to the woods and to thee?’ + +She reddened and said: ‘I am no spell-wife: but true it is that +Wood-mother made a waxen image of thee, and thrust through the heart +thereof the pin of my girdle-buckle, and stroked it every morning with an +oak-bough over which she had sung spells. But dost thou not remember, +Gold-mane, how that one day last Hay-month, as ye were resting in the +meadows in the cool of the evening, there came to you a minstrel that +played to you on the fiddle, and therewith sang a song that melted all +your hearts, and that this song told of the Wild-wood, and what was +therein of desire and peril and beguiling and death, and love unto Death +itself? Dost thou remember, friend?’ + +‘Yea,’ he said, ‘and how when the minstrel was done Stone-face fell to +telling us more tales yet of the woodland, and the minstrel sang again +and yet again, till his tales had entered into my very heart.’ + +‘Yea,’ she said, ‘and that minstrel was Wood-wont; and I sent him to sing +to thee and thine, deeming that if thou didst hearken, thou would’st seek +the woodland and happen upon us.’ + +He laughed and said: ‘Thou didst not doubt but that if we met, thou +mightest do with me as thou wouldest?’ + +‘So it is,’ she said, ‘that I doubted it little.’ + +‘Therein wert thou wise,’ said Face-of-god; ‘but now that we are talking +without guile to each other, mightest thou tell me wherefore it was that +Folk-might made that onslaught upon me? For certain it is that he was +minded to slay me.’ + +She said: ‘It was sooth what I told thee, that whiles he groweth so +battle-eager that whatso edge-tool he beareth must needs come out of the +scabbard; but there was more in it than that, which I could not tell thee +erst. Two days before thy coming he had been down to Burgstead in the +guise of an old carle such as thou sawest him with me in the +market-place. There was he guested in your Hall, and once more saw thee +and the Bride together; and he saw the eyes of love wherewith she looked +on thee (for so much he told me), and deemed that thou didst take her +love but lightly. And he himself looked on her with such love (and this +he told me not) that he deemed nought good enough for her, and would have +had thee give thyself up wholly to her; for my brother is a generous man, +my friend. So when I told him on the morn of that day whereon we met +that we looked to see thee that eve (for indeed I am somewhat +foreseeing), he said: “Look thou, Sun-beam, if he cometh, it is not +unlike that I shall drive a spear through him.” “Wherefore?” said I; +“can he serve our turn when he is dead?” Said he: “I care little. Mine +own turn will I serve. Thou sayest _Wherefore_? I tell thee this +stripling beguileth to her torment the fairest woman that is in the +world—such an one as is meet to be the mother of chieftains, and to stand +by warriors in their day of peril. I have seen her; and thus have I seen +her.” Then said I: “Greatly forsooth shalt thou pleasure her by slaying +him!” And he answered: “I shall pleasure myself. And one day she shall +thank me, when she taketh my hand in hers and we go together to the +Bride-bed.” Therewith came over me a clear foresight of the hours to +come, and I said to him: “Yea, Folk-might, cast the spear and draw the +sword; but him thou shalt not slay: and thou shalt one day see him +standing with us before the shafts of the Dusky Men.” So I spake; but he +looked fiercely at me, and departed and shunned me all that day, and by +good hap I was hard at hand when thou drewest nigh our abode. Nay, +Gold-mane, what would’st thou with thy sword? Why art thou so red and +wrathful? Would’st thou fight with my brother because he loveth thy +friend, thine old playmate, thy kinswoman, and thinketh pity of her +sorrow?’ + +He said, with knit brow and gleaming eyes: ‘Would the man take her away +from me perforce?’ + +‘My friend,’ she said, ‘thou art not yet so wise as not to be a fool at +whiles. Is it not so that she herself hath taken herself from thee, +since she hath come to know that thou hast given thyself to another? +Hath she noted nought of thee this winter and spring? Is she well +pleased with the ways of thee?’ + +He said: ‘Thou hast spoken simply with me, and I will do no less with +thee. It was but four days agone that she did me to wit that she knew of +me how I sought my love on the Mountain; and she put me to sore shame, +and afterwards I wept for her sorrow.’ + +Therewith he told her all that the Bride had said to him, as he well +might, for he had forgotten no word of it. + +Then said the Friend: ‘She shall have the token that she craveth, and it +is I that shall give it to her.’ + +Therewith she took from her finger a ring wherein was set a very fair +changeful mountain-stone, and gave it to him, and said: + +‘Thou shalt give her this and tell her whence thou hadst it; and tell her +that I bid her remember that To-morrow is a new day.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XX. THOSE TWO TOGETHER HOLD THE RING OF THE EARTH-GOD. + + +AND now they fell silent both of them, and sat hearkening the sounds of +the Dale, from the whistle of the plover down by the water-side to the +far-off voices of the children and maidens about the kine in the lower +meadows. At last Gold-mane took up the word and said: + +‘Sweet friend, tell me the uttermost of what thou would’st have of me. +Is it not that I should stand by thee and thine in the Folk-mote of the +Dalesmen, and speak for you when ye pray us for help against your foemen; +and then again that I do my best when ye and we are arrayed for battle +against the Dusky Men? This is easy to do, and great is the reward thou +offerest me.’ + +‘I look for this service of thee,’ she said, ‘and none other.’ + +‘And when I go down to the battle,’ said he, ‘shalt thou be sorry for our +sundering?’ + +She said: ‘There shall be no sundering; I shall wend with thee.’ + +Said he: ‘And if I were slain in the battle, would’st thou lament me?’ + +‘Thou shalt not be slain,’ she said. + +Again was there silence betwixt them, till at last he said: + +‘This then is why thou didst draw me to thee in the Wild-wood?’ + +‘Yea,’ said she. + +Again for a while no word was spoken, and Face-of-god looked on her till +she cast her eyes down before him. + +Then at last he spake, and the colour came and went in his face as he +said: ‘Tell me thy name what it is.’ + +She said: ‘I am called the Sun-beam.’ + +Then he said, and his voice trembled therewith: ‘O Sun-beam, I have been +seeking pleasant and cunning words, and can find none such. But tell me +this if thou wilt: dost thou desire me as I desire thee? or is it that +thou wilt suffer me to wed thee and bed thee at last as mere payment for +the help that I shall give to thee and thine? Nay, doubt it not that I +will take the payment, if this is what thou wilt give me and nought else. +Yet tell me.’ + +Her face grew troubled, and she said: + +‘Gold-mane, maybe that thou hast now asked me one question too many; for +this is no fair game to be played between us. For thee, as I deem, there +are this day but two people in the world, and that is thou and I, and the +earth is for us two alone. But, my friend, though I have seen but twenty +and one summers, it is nowise so with me, and to me there are many in the +world; and chiefly the Folk of the Wolf, amidst whose very heart I have +grown up. Moreover, I can think of her whom I have supplanted, the Bride +to wit; and I know her, and how bitter and empty her days shall be for a +while, and how vain all our redes for her shall seem to her. Yea, I know +her sorrow, and see it and grieve for it: so canst not thou, unless thou +verily see her before thee, her face unhappy, and her voice changed and +hard. Well, I will tell thee what thou askest. When I drew thee to me +on the Mountain I thought but of the friendship and brotherhood to be +knitted up between our two Folks, nor did I anywise desire thy love of a +young man. But when I saw thee on the heath and in the Hall that day, it +pleased me to think that a man so fair and chieftain-like should one day +lie by my side; and again when I saw that the love of me had taken hold +of thee, I would not have thee grieved because of me, but would have thee +happy. And now what shall I say?—I know not; I cannot tell. Yet am I +the Friend, as erst I called myself. + +‘And, Gold-mane, I have seen hitherto but the outward show and image of +thee, and though that be goodly, how would it be if thou didst shame me +with little-heartedness and evil deeds? Let me see thee in the Folk-mote +and the battle, and then may I answer thee.’ + +Then she held her peace, and he answered nothing; and she turned her face +from him and said: + +‘Out on it! have I beguiled myself as well as thee? These are but empty +words I have been saying. If thou wilt drag the truth out of me, this is +the very truth: that to-day is happy to me as it is to thee, and that I +have longed sore for its coming. O Gold-mane, O speech-friend, if thou +wert to pray me or command me that I lie in thine arms to-night, I should +know not how to gainsay thee. Yet I beseech thee to forbear, lest thy +death and mine come of it. And why should we die, O friend, when we are +so young, and the world lies so fair before us, and the happy days are at +hand when the Children of the Wolf and the kindreds of the Dale shall +deliver the Folk, and all days shall be good and all years?’ + +They had both risen up as she spake, and now he put forth his hands to +her and took her in his arms, wondering the while, as he drew her to him, +how much slenderer and smaller and weaker she seemed in his embrace than +he had thought of her; and when their lips met, he felt that she kissed +him as he her. Then he held her by the shoulders at arms’ length from +him, and beheld her face how her eyes were closed and her lips quivering. +But before him, in a moment of time, passed a picture of the life to be +in the fair Dale, and all she would give him there, and the days good and +lovely from morn to eve and eve to morn; and though in that moment it was +hard for him to speak, at last he spoke in a voice hoarse at first, and +said: + +‘Thou sayest sooth, O friend; we will not die, but live; I will not drag +our deaths upon us both, nor put a sword in the hands of Folk-might, who +loves me not.’ + +Then he kissed her on the brow and said: ‘Now shalt thou take me by the +hand and lead me forth from the Hall. For the day is waxing old, and +here meseemeth in this dim hall there are words crossing in the air about +us—words spoken in days long ago, and tales of old time, that keep egging +me on to do my will and die, because that is all that the world hath for +a valiant man; and to such words I would not hearken, for in this hour I +have no will to die, nor can I think of death.’ + +She took his hand and led him forth without more words, and they went +hand in hand and paced slowly round the Doom-ring, the light air +breathing upon them till their faces were as calm and quiet as their wont +was, and hers especially as bright and happy as when he had first seen +her that day. + +The sun was sinking now, and only sent one golden ray into the valley +through a cleft in the western rock-wall, but the sky overhead was bright +and clear; from the meadows came the sound of the lowing of kine and the +voices of children a-sporting, and it seemed to Gold-mane that they were +drawing nigher, both the children and the kine, and somewhat he begrudged +it that he should not be alone with the Friend. + +Now when they had made half the circuit of the Doom-ring, the Sun-beam +stopped him, and then led him through the Ring of Stones, and brought him +up to the altar which was amidst of it; and the altar was a great black +stone hewn smooth and clean, and with the image of the Wolf carven on the +front thereof; and on its face lay the gold ring which the priest or +captain of the Folk bore on his arm between the God and the people at all +folk-motes. + +So she said: ‘This is the altar of the God of Earth, and often hath it +been reddened by mighty men; and thereon lieth the Ring of the Sons of +the Wolf; and now it were well that we swore troth on that ring before my +brother cometh; for now will he soon be here.’ + +Then Gold-mane took the Ring and thrust his right hand through it, and +took her right hand in his; so that the Ring lay on both their hands, and +therewith he spake aloud: + +‘I am Face-of-god of the House of the Face, and I do thee to wit, O God +of the Earth, that I pledge my troth to this woman, the Sun-beam of the +Kindred of the Wolf, to beget my offspring on her, and to live with her, +and to die with her: so help me, thou God of the Earth, and the Warrior +and the God of the Face!’ + +Then spake the Sun-beam: ‘I, the Sun-beam of the Children of the Wolf, +pledge my troth to Face-of-god to lie in his bed and to bear his children +and none other’s, and to be his speech-friend till I die: so help me the +Wolf and the Warrior and the God of the Earth!’ + +Then they laid the Ring on the altar again, and they kissed each other +long and sweetly, and then turned away from the altar and departed from +the Doom-ring, going hand in hand together down the meadow, and as they +went, the noise of the kine and the children grew nearer and nearer, and +presently came the whole company of them round a ness of the rock-wall; +there were some thirty little lads and lasses driving on the milch-kine, +with half a score of older maids and grown women, one of whom was +Bow-may, who was lightly and scantily clad, as one who heeds not the +weather, or deems all months midsummer. + +The children came running up merrily when they saw the Sun-beam, but +stopped short shyly when they noted the tall fair stranger with her. +They were all strong and sturdy children, and some very fair, but brown +with the weather, if not with the sun. Bow-may came up to Gold-mane and +took his hand and greeted him kindly and said: + +‘So here thou art at last in Shadowy Vale; and I hope that thou art +content therewith, and as happy as I would wish thee to be. Well, this +is the first time; and when thou comest the second time it may well be +that the world shall be growing better.’ + +She held the distaff which she bore in her hand (for she had been +spinning) as if it were a spear; her limbs were goodly and shapely, and +she trod the thick grass of the Vale with a kind of wary firmness, as +though foemen might be lurking nearby. The Sun-beam smiled upon her +kindly and said: + +‘That shall not fail to be, Bow-may: ye have won a new friend to-day. +But tell me, when dost thou look to see the men here, for I was down by +the water when they went away yesterday?’ + +‘They shall come into the Dale a little after sunset,’ said Bow-may. + +‘Shall I abide them, my friend?’ said Gold-mane, turning to the Sun-beam. + +‘Yea,’ she said; ‘for what else art thou come hither? or art thou so +pressed to depart from us? Last time we met thou wert not so hasty to +sunder.’ + +They smiled on each other; and Bow-may looked on them and laughed +outright; then a flush showed in her cheeks through the tan of them, and +she turned toward the children and the other women who were busied about +the milking of the kine. + +But those two sat down together on a bank amidst the plain meadow, facing +the river and the eastern rock-wall, and the Sun-beam said: + +‘I am fain to speak to thee and to see thine eyes watching me while I +speak; and now, my friend, I will tell thee something unasked which has +to do with what e’en now thou didst ask me; for I would have thee trust +me wholly, and know me for what I am. Time was I schemed and planned for +this day of betrothal; but now I tell thee it has become no longer +needful for bringing to pass our fellowship in arms with thy people. Yea +yesterday, ere he went on a hunt, whereof he shall tell thee, Folk-might +was against it, in words at least; and yet as one who would have it done +if he might have no part in it. So, in good sooth, this hand that lieth +in thine is the hand of a wilful woman, who desireth a man, and would +keep him for her speech-friend. Now art thou fond and happy; yet bear in +mind that there are deeds to be done, and the troth we have just plighted +must be paid for. So hearken, I bid thee. Dost thou care to know why +the wheedling of thee is no longer needful to us?’ + +He said: ‘A little while ago I should have said, Yea, If thy lips say the +words. But now, O friend, it seemeth as if thine heart were already +become a part of mine, and I feel as if the chieftain were growing up in +me and the longing for deeds: so I say, Tell me, for I were fain to hear +what toucheth the welfare of thy Folk and their fellowship with my Folk; +for on that also have I set my heart?’ + +She said gravely and with solemn eyes: + +‘What thou sayest is good: full glad am I that I have not plighted my +troth to a mere goodly lad, but rather to a chieftain and a warrior. Now +then hearken! Since I saw thee first in the autumn this hath happened, +that the Dusky Men, increasing both in numbers and insolence, have it in +their hearts to win more than Silver-dale, and it is years since they +have fallen upon Rose-dale and conquered it, rather by murder than by +battle, and made all men thralls there, for feeble were the Folk thereof; +and doubt it not but that they will look into Burgdale before long. They +are already abroad in the woods, and were it not for the fear of the Wolf +they would be thicker therein, and faring wider; for we have slain many +of them, coming upon them unawares; and they know not where we dwell, nor +who we be: so they fear to spread about over-much and pry into unknown +places lest the Wolf howl on them. Yet beware! for they will gather in +numbers that we may not meet, and then will they swarm into the Dale; and +if ye would live your happy life that ye love so well, ye must now fight +for it; and in that battle must ye needs join yourselves to us, that we +may help each other. Herein have ye nought to choose, for now with you +it is no longer a thing to talk of whether ye will help certain strangers +and guests and thereby win some gain to yourselves, but whether ye have +the hearts to fight for yourselves, and the wits to be the fellows of +tall men and stout warriors who have pledged their lives to win or die +for it.’ + +She was silent a little and then turned and looked fondly on Face-of-god +and said: + +‘Therefore, Gold-mane, we need thee no longer; for thou must needs fight +in our battle. I have no longer aught to do to wheedle thee to love me. +Yet if thou wilt love me, then am I a glad woman.’ + +He said: ‘Thou wottest well that thou hast all my love, neither will I +fail thee in the battle. I am not little-hearted, though I would have +given myself to thee for no reward.’ + +‘It is well,’ said the Sun-beam; ‘nought is undone by that which I have +done. Moreover, it is good that we have plighted troth to-day. For +Folk-might will presently hear thereof, and he must needs abide the thing +which is done. Hearken! he cometh.’ + +For as she spoke there came a glad cry from the women and children, and +those two stood up and turned toward the west and beheld the warriors of +the Wolf coming down into the Dale by the way that Gold-mane had come. + +‘Come,’ said the Sun-beam, ‘here are your brethren in arms, let us go +greet them; they will rejoice in thee.’ + +So they went thither, and there stood eighty and seven men on the grass +below the scree and Folk-might their captain; and besides some valiant +women, and a few carles who were on watch on the waste, and a half score +who had been left in the Dale, these were all the warriors of the Wolf. +They were clad in no holiday raiment, not even Folk-might, but were in +sheep-brown gear of the coarsest, like to husbandmen late come from the +plough, but armed well and goodly. + +But when the twain drew near, the men clashed their spears on their +shields, and cried out for joy of them, for they all knew what +Face-of-god’s presence there betokened of fellowship with the kindreds; +but Folk-might came forward and took Face-of-god’s hand and greeted him +and said: + +‘Hail, son of the Alderman! Here hast thou come into the ancient abode +of chieftains and warriors, and belike deeds await thee also.’ + +Yet his brow was knitted as he said these words, and he spake slowly, as +one that constraineth himself; but presently his face cleared somewhat +and he said: + +‘Dalesman, it behoveth thy people to bestir them if ye would live and see +good days. Hath my sister told thee what is toward? Or what sayest +thou?’ + +‘Hail to thee, son of the Wolf!’ said Face-of-god. ‘Thy sister hath told +me all; and even if these Dusky Felons were not our foe-men also, yet +could I have my way, we should have given thee all help, and should have +brought back peace and good days to thy folk.’ + +Then Folk-might flushed red and spake, as he cast out his hand towards +the warriors and up and down toward the Dale: + +‘These be my folk, and these only: and as to peace, only those of us know +of it who are old men. Yet is it well; and if we and ye together be +strong enough to bring back good days to the feeble men whom the Dusky +Ones torment in Silver-dale it shall be better yet.’ + +Then he turned about to his sister, and looked keenly into her eyes till +she reddened, and took her hand and looked at the wrist and said: + +‘O sister, see I not the mark on thy wrist of the Ring of the God of the +Earth? Have not oaths been sworn since yesterday?’ + +‘True it is,’ she said, ‘that this man and I have plighted troth together +at the altar of the Doom-ring.’ + +Said Folk-might: ‘Thou wilt have thy will, and I may not amend it.’ +Therewith he turned about to Face-of-god and said: + +‘Thou must look to it to keep this oath, whatever other one thou hast +failed in.’ + +Said Face-of-god somewhat wrathfully: ‘I shall keep it, whether thou +biddest me to keep it or break it.’ + +‘That is well,’ said Folk-might, ‘and then for all that hath gone before +thou mayest in a manner pay, if thou art dauntless before the foe.’ + +‘I look to be no blencher in the battle,’ said Face-of-god; ‘that is not +the fashion of our kindred, whosoever may be before us. Yea, and even +were it thy blade, O mighty warrior of the Wolf, I would do my best to +meet it in manly fashion.’ + +As he spake he half drew forth Dale-warden from his sheath, looking +steadily into the eyes of Folk-might; and the Sun-beam looked upon him +happily. But Folk-might laughed and said: + +‘Thy sword is good, and I deem that thine heart will not fail thee; but +it is by my side and not in face of me that thou shalt redden the good +blade: I see not the day when we twain shall hew at each other.’ + +Then in a while he spake again: + +‘Thou must pardon us if our words are rough; for we have stood in rough +places, where we had to speak both short and loud, whereas there was much +to do. But now will we twain talk of matters that concern chieftains who +are going on a hard adventure. And ye women, do ye dight the Hall for +the evening feast, which shall be the feast of the troth-plight for you +twain. This indeed we owe thee, O guest; for little shall be thine +heritage which thou shalt have with my sister, over and above that thy +sword winneth for thee.’ + +But the Sun-beam said: ‘Hast thou any to-night?’ + +‘Yea,’ he said; ‘Spear-god, how many was it?’ + +There came forward a tall man bearing an axe in his right hand, and +carrying over his shoulder by his left hand a bundle of silver arm-rings +just such as Gold-mane had seen on the felons who were slain by +Wood-grey’s house. The carle cast them on the ground and then knelt down +and fell to telling them over; and then looked up and said: ‘Twelve +yesterday in the wood where the battle was going on; and this morning +seven by the tarn in the pine-wood and six near this eastern edge of the +wood: one score and five all told. But, Folk-might, they are coming nigh +to Shadowy Vale.’ + +‘Sooth is that,’ said Folk-might; ‘but it shall be looked to. Come now +apart with me, Face-of-god.’ + +So the others went their ways toward the Hall, while Folk-might led the +Burgdaler to a sheltered nook under the sheer rocks, and there they sat +down to talk, and Folk-might asked Gold-mane closely of the muster of the +Dalesmen and the Shepherds and the Woodland Caries, and he was well +pleased when Face-of-god told him of how many could march to a stricken +field, and of their archery, and of their weapons and their goodness. + +All this took some time in the telling, and now night was coming on +apace, and Folk-might said: + +‘Now will it be time to go to the Hall; but keep in thy mind that these +Dusky Men will overrun you unless ye deal with them betimes. These are +of the kind that ye must cast fear into their hearts by falling on them; +for if ye abide till they fall upon you, they are like the winter wolves +that swarm on and on, how many soever ye slay. And this above all things +shall help you, that we shall bring you whereas ye shall fall on them +unawares and destroy them as boys do with a wasp’s nest. Yet shall many +a mother’s son bite the dust. + +‘Is it not so that in four weeks’ time is your spring-feast and market at +Burgstead, and thereafter the great Folk-mote?’ + +‘So it is,’ said Gold-mane. + +‘Thither shall I come then,’ said Folk-might, ‘and give myself out for +the slayer of Rusty and the ransacker of Harts-bane and Penny-thumb; and +therefor shall I offer good blood-wite and theft-wite; and thy father +shall take that; for he is a just man. Then shall I tell my tale. Yet +it may be thou shalt see us before if battle betide. And now fair befall +this new year; for soon shall the scabbards be empty and the white swords +be dancing in the air, and spears and axes shall be the growth of this +spring-tide.’ + +And he leaped up from his seat and walked to and fro before Gold-mane, +and now was it grown quite dark. Then Folk-might turned to Face-of-god +and said: + +‘Come, guest, the windows of the Hall are yellow; let us to the feast. +To-morrow shalt thou get thee to the beginning of this work. I hope of +thee that thou art a good sword; else have I done a folly and my sister a +worse one. But now forget that, and feast.’ + +Gold-mane arose, not very well at ease, for the man seemed overbearing; +yet how might he fall upon the Sun-beam’s kindred, and the captain of +these new brethren in arms? So he spake not. But Folk-might said to +him: + +‘Yet I would not have thee forget that I was wroth with thee when I saw +thee to-day; and had it not been for the coming battle I had drawn sword +upon thee.’ + +Then Face-of-god’s wrath was stirred, and he said: + +‘There is yet time for that! but why art thou wroth with me? And I shall +tell thee that there is little manliness in thy chiding. For how may I +fight with thee, thou the brother of my plighted speech-friend and my +captain in this battle?’ + +‘Therein thou sayest sooth,’ said Folk-might; ‘but hard it was to see you +two standing together; and thou canst not give the Bride to me as I give +my sister to thee. For I have seen her, and I have seen her looking at +thee; and I know that she will not have it so.’ + +Then they went on together toward the Hall, and Face-of-god was silent +and somewhat troubled; and as they drew near to the Hall, Folk-might +spake again: + +‘Yet time may amend it; and if not, there is the battle, and maybe the +end. Now be we merry!’ + +So they went into the Hall together, and there was the Sun-beam +gloriously arrayed, as erst in the woodland bower, and Face-of-god sat on +the daïs beside her, and the uttermost sweetness of desire entered into +his soul as he noted her eyes and her mouth, that were grown so kind to +him, and her hand that strayed toward his. + +The Hall was full of folk, and all those warriors were there with +Wood-father and his sons, and Wood-mother, and Bow-may and many other +women; and Gold-mane looked down the Hall and deemed that he had never +seen such stalwarth bodies of men, or so bold and meet for battle: as for +the women he had seen fairer in Burgdale, but these were fair of their +own fashion, shapely and well-knit, and strong-armed and large-limbed, +yet sweet-voiced and gentle withal. Nay, the very lads of fifteen +winters or so, whereof a few were there, seemed bold and bright-eyed and +keen of wit, and it seemed like that if the warriors fared afield these +would be with them. + +So wore the feast; and Folk-might as aforetime amongst the healths called +on men to drink to the Jaws of the Wolf, and the Red Hand, and the Silver +Arm, and the Golden Bushel, and the Ragged Sword. But now had +Face-of-god no need to ask what these meant, since he knew that they were +the names of the kindreds of the Wolf. They drank also to the +troth-plight and to those twain, and shouted aloud over the health and +clashed their weapons: and Gold-mane wondered what echo of that shout +would reach to Burgstead. + +Then sang men songs of old time, and amongst them Wood-wont stood with +his fiddle amidst the Hall and Bow-may beside him, and they sang in turn +to it sweetly and clearly; and this is some of what they sang: + + _She singeth_. + + Wild is the waste and long leagues over; + Whither then wend ye spear and sword, + Where nought shall see your helms but the plover, + Far and far from the dear Dale’s sward? + + _He singeth_. + + Many a league shall we wend together + With helm and spear and bended bow. + Hark! how the wind blows up for weather: + Dark shall the night be whither we go. + + Dark shall the night be round the byre, + And dark as we drive the brindled kine; + Dark and dark round the beacon-fire, + Dark down in the pass round our wavering line. + + Turn on thy path, O fair-foot maiden, + And come our ways by the pathless road; + Look how the clouds hang low and laden + Over the walls of the old abode! + + _She singeth_. + + Bare are my feet for the rough waste’s wending, + Wild is the wind, and my kirtle’s thin; + Faint shall I be ere the long way’s ending + Drops down to the Dale and the grief therein. + + _He singeth_. + + Do on the brogues of the wild-wood rover, + Do on the byrnies’ ring-close mail; + Take thou the staff that the barbs hang over, + O’er the wind and the waste and the way to prevail. + + Come, for how from thee shall I sunder? + Come, that a tale may arise in the land; + Come, that the night may be held for a wonder, + When the Wolf was led by a maiden’s hand! + + _She singeth_. + + Now will I fare as ye are faring, + And wend no way but the way ye wend; + And bear but the burdens ye are bearing, + And end the day as ye shall end. + + And many an eve when the clouds are drifting + Down through the Dale till they dim the roof, + Shall they tell in the Hall of the Maiden’s Lifting, + And how we drave the spoil aloof. + + _They sing together_. + + Over the moss through the wind and the weather, + Through the morn and the eve and the death of the day, + Wend we man and maid together, + For out of the waste is born the fray. + +Then the Sun-beam spake to Gold-mane softly, and told him how this song +was made by a minstrel concerning a foray in the early days of their +first abode in Shadowy Vale, and how in good sooth a maiden led the fray +and was the captain of the warriors: + +‘Erst,’ she said, ‘this was counted as a wonder; but now we are so few +that it is no wonder though the women will do whatsoever they may.’ + +So they talked, and Gold-mane was very happy; but ere the good-night cup +was drunk, Folk-might spake to Face-of-god and said: + +‘It were well that ye rose betimes in the morning: but thou shalt not go +back by the way thou camest. Wood-wise and another shall go with thee, +and show thee a way across the necks and the heaths, which is rough +enough as far as toil goes, but where thy life shall be safer; and +thereby shalt thou hit the ghyll of the Weltering Water, and so come down +safely into Burgdale. Now that we are friends and fellows, it is no hurt +for thee to know the shortest way to Shadowy Vale. What thou shalt tell +concerning us in Burgdale I leave the tale thereof to thee; yet belike +thou wilt not tell everything till I come to Burgstead at the spring +market-tide. Now must I presently to bed; for before daylight to-morrow +must I be following the hunt along with two score good men of ours.’ + +‘What beast is afield then?’ said Gold-mane. + +Said Folk-might: ‘The beasts that beset our lives, the Dusky Men. In +these days we have learned how to find companies of them; and forsooth +every week they draw nigher to this Dale; and some day they should happen +upon us if we were not to look to it, and then would there be a murder +great and grim; therefore we scour the heaths round about, and the skirts +of the woodland, and we fall upon these felons in divers guises, so that +they may not know us for the same men; whiles are we clad in homespun, as +to-day, and seem like to field-working carles; whiles in scarlet and +gold, like knights of the Westland; whiles in wolf-skins; whiles in white +glittering gear, like the Wights of the Waste: and in all guises these +felons, for all their fierce hearts, fear us, and flee from us, and we +follow and slay them, and so minish their numbers somewhat against the +great day of battle.’ + +‘Tell me,’ said Gold-mane; ‘when we fall upon Silver-dale shall their +thralls, the old Dale-dwellers, fight for them or for us?’ + +Said Folk-might: ‘The Dusky Men will not dare to put weapons into the +hands of their thralls. Nay, the thralls shall help us; for though they +have but small stomach for the fight, yet joyfully when the fight is over +shall they cut their masters’ throats.’ + +‘How is it with these thralls?’ said Gold-mane. ‘I have never seen a +thrall.’ + +‘But I,’ said Folk-might, ‘have seen a many down in the Cities. And +there were thralls who were the tyrants of thralls, and held the whip +over them; and of the others there were some who were not very hardly +entreated. But with these it is otherwise, and they all bear grievous +pains daily; for the Dusky Men are as hogs in a garden of lilies. +Whatsoever is fair there have they defiled and deflowered, and they +wallow in our fair halls as swine strayed from the dunghill. No delight +in life, no sweet days do they have for themselves, and they begrudge the +delight of others therein. Therefore their thralls know no rest or +solace; their reward of toil is many stripes, and the healing of their +stripes grievous toil. To many have they appointed to dig and mine in +the silver-yielding cliffs, and of all the tasks is that the sorest, and +there do stripes abound the most. Such thralls art thou happy not to +behold till thou hast set them free; as we shall do.’ + +‘Tell me again,’ said Face-of-god; ‘Is there no mixed folk between these +Dusky Men and the Dalesmen, since they have no women of their own, but +lie with the women of the Dale? Moreover, do not the poor folk of the +Dale beget and bear children, so that there are thralls born of thralls?’ + +‘Wisely thou askest this,’ said Folk-might, ‘but thereof shall I tell +thee, that when a Dusky Carle mingles with a woman of the Dale, the child +which she beareth shall oftenest favour his race and not hers; or else +shall it be witless, a fool natural. But as for the children of these +poor thralls; yea, the masters cause them to breed if so their +masterships will, and when the children are born, they keep them or slay +them as they will, as they would with whelps or calves. To be short, +year by year these vile wretches grow fiercer and more beastly, and their +thralls more hapless and down-trodden; and now at last is come the time +either to do or to die, as ye men of Burgdale shall speedily find out. +But now must I go sleep if I am to be where I look to be at sunrise +to-morrow.’ + +Therewith he called for the sleeping-cup, and it was drunk, and all men +fared to bed. But the Sun-beam took Gold-mane’s hand ere they parted, +and said: + +‘I shall arise betimes on the morrow; so I say not farewell to-night; +yea, and after to-morrow it shall not be long ere we meet again.’ + +So Gold-mane lay down in that ancient hall, and it seemed to him ere he +slept as if his own kindred were slipping away from him and he were +becoming a child of the Wolf. ‘And yet,’ said he to himself, ‘I am +become a man; for my Friend, now she no longer telleth me to do or +forbear, and I tremble. Nay, rather she is fain to take the word from +me; and this great warrior and ripe man, he talketh with me as if I were +a chieftain meet for converse with chieftains. Even so it is and shall +be.’ + +And soon thereafter he fell asleep in the Hall in Shadowy Vale. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. FACE-OF-GOD LOOKETH ON THE DUSKY MEN. + + +WHEN he awoke again he saw a man standing over him, and knew him for +Wood-wise: he was clad in his war-gear, and had his quiver at his back +and his bow in his hand, for Wood-father’s children were all good bowmen, +though not so sure as Bow-may. He spake to Face-of-god: + +‘Dawn is in the sky, Dalesman; there is yet time for thee to wash the +night off of thee in our bath of the Shivering Flood and to put thy mouth +to the milk-bowl; but time for nought else: for I and Bow-may are +appointed thy fellows for the road, and it were well that we were back +home speedily.’ + +So Face-of-god leapt up and went forth from the Hall, and Wood-wise led +to where was a pool in the river with steps cut down to it in the rocky +bank. + +‘This,’ said Wood-wise, ‘is the Carle’s Bath; but the Queen’s is lower +down, where the water is wider and shallower below the little mid-dale +force.’ + +So Gold-mane stripped off his raiment and leapt into the ice-cold pool; +and they had brought his weapons and war-gear with them; so when he came +out he clad and armed himself for the road, and then turned with +Wood-wise toward the outgate of the Dale; and soon they saw two men +coming from lower down the water in such wise that they would presently +cross their path, and as yet it was little more than twilight, so that +they saw not at first who they were, but as they drew nearer they knew +them for the Sun-beam and Bow-may. The Sun-beam was clad but in her +white linen smock and blue gown as he had first seen her, her hair was +wet and dripping with the river, her face fresh and rosy: she carried in +her two hands a great bowl of milk, and stepped delicately, lest she +should spill it. But Bow-may was clad in her war-gear with helm and +byrny, and a quiver at her back, and a bended bow in her hand. So they +greeted each other kindly, and the Sun-beam gave the bowl to Face-of-god +and said: + +‘Drink, guest, for thou hast a long and thirsty road before thee.’ + +So Face-of-god drank, and gave her the bowl back again, and she smiled on +him and drank, and the others after her till the bowl was empty: then +Bow-may put her hand on Wood-wise’s shoulder, and they led on toward the +outgate, while those twain followed them hand in hand. But the Sun-beam +said: + +‘This then is the new day I spoke of, and lo! it bringeth our sundering +with it; yet shall it be no longer than a day when all is said, and new +days shall follow after. And now, my friend, I shall see thee no later +than the April market; for doubt not that I shall go thither with +Folk-might, whether he will or not. Also as I led thee out of the house +when we last met, so shall I lead thee out of the Dale to-day, and I will +go with thee a little way on the waste; and therefore am I shod this +morning, as thou seest, for the ways on the waste are rough. And now I +bid thee have courage while my hand holdeth thine. For afterwards I need +not bid thee anything; for thou wilt have enough to do when thou comest +to thy Folk, and must needs think more of warriors then than of maidens.’ + +He looked at her and longed for her, but said soberly: ‘Thou art kind, O +friend, and thinkest kindly of me ever. But methinks it were not well +done for thee to wend with me over a deal of the waste, and come back by +thyself alone, when ye have so many foemen nearby.’ + +‘Nay,’ she said, ‘they be nought so near as that yet, and I wot that +Folk-might hath gone forth toward the north-west, where he looketh to +fall in with a company of the foemen. His battle shall be a guard unto +us.’ + +‘I pray thee turn back at the top of the outgate,’ said he, ‘and be not +venturesome. Thou wottest that the pitcher is not broken the first time +it goeth to the well, nor maybe the twentieth, but at last it cometh not +back.’ + +She said: ‘Nevertheless I shall have my will herein. And it is but a +little way I will wend with thee.’ + +Therewith were they come to the scree, and talk fell down between them as +they clomb it; but when they were in the darksome passage of the rocks, +and could scarce see one another, Face-of-god said: + +‘Where then is another outgate from the Dale? Is it not up the water?’ + +‘Yea,’ she said, ‘and there is none other: at the lower end the rocks +rise sheer from out the water, and a little further down is a great force +thundering betwixt them; so that by no boat or raft may ye come out of +the Dale. But the outgate up the water is called the Road of War, as +this is named the Path of Peace. But now are all ways ways of war.’ + +‘There is peace in my heart,’ said Gold-mane. + +She answered not for a while, but pressed his hand, and he felt her +breath on his cheek; and even therewithal they came out of the dark, and +Gold-mane saw that her cheek was flushed; and now she spake: + +‘One thing would I say to thee, my friend. Thou hast seen me amongst men +of war, amongst outlaws who seek violence; thou hast heard me bid my +brother to count the slain, and I shrinking not; thou knowest (for I have +told thee) how I have schemed and schemed for victorious battle. Yet I +would not have thee think of me as a Chooser of the Slain, a warrior +maiden, or as of one who hath no joy save in the battle whereto she +biddeth others. O friend, the many peaceful hours that I have had on the +grass down yonder, sitting with my rock and spindle in hand, the children +round about my knees hearkening to some old story so well remembered by +me! or the milking of the kine in the dewy summer even, when all was +still but for the voice of the water and the cries of the happy children, +and there round about me were the dear and beauteous maidens with whom I +had grown up, happy amidst all our troubles, since their life was free +and they knew no guile. In such times my heart was at peace indeed, and +it seemed to me as if we had won all we needed; as if war and turmoil +were over, after they had brought about peace and good days for our +little folk. + +‘And as for the days that be, are they not as that rugged pass, full of +bitter winds and the voice of hurrying waters, that leadeth yonder to +Silver-dale, as thou hast divined? and there is nought good in it save +that the breath of life is therein, and that it leadeth to pleasant +places and the peace and plenty of the fair dale.’ + +‘Sweet friend,’ he said, ‘what thou sayest is better than well: for time +shall be, if we come alive out of this pass of battle and bitter strife, +when I shall lead thee into Burgdale to dwell there. And thou wottest of +our people that there is little strife and grudging amongst them, and +that they are merry, and fair to look on, both men and women; and no man +there lacketh what the earth may give us, and it is a saying amongst us +that there may a man have that which he desireth save the sun and moon in +his hands to play with: and of this gladness, which is made up of many +little matters, what story may be told? Yet amongst it shall I live and +thou with me; and ill indeed it were if it wearied thee and thou wert +ever longing for some day of victorious strife, and to behold me coming +back from battle high-raised on the shields of men and crowned with bay; +if thine ears must ever be tickled with the talk of men and their songs +concerning my warrior deeds. For thus it shall not be. When I drive the +herds it shall be at the neighbours’ bidding whereso they will; not necks +of men shall I smite, but the stalks of the tall wheat, and the boles of +the timber-trees which the woodreeve hath marked for felling; the stilts +of the plough rather than the hilts of the sword shall harden my hands; +my shafts shall be for the deer, and my spears for the wood-boar, till +war and sorrow fall upon us, and I fight for the ceasing of war and +trouble. And though I be called a chief and of the blood of chiefs, yet +shall I not be masterful to the goodman of the Dale, but rather to my +hound; for my chieftainship shall be that I shall be well beloved and +trusted, and that no man shall grudge against me. Canst thou learn to +love such a life, which to me seemeth lovely? And thou? of whom I say +that thou art as if thou wert come down from the golden chairs of the +Burg of the Gods.’ + +They were well-nigh out of the steep path by now, and the daylight was +bright about them; there she stayed her feet a moment and turned to him +and said: + +‘All this should I love even now, if the grief of our Folk were but +healed, and hereafter shall I learn yet more of thy well-beloved face.’ + +Therewith she laid her face to his and kissed him fondly, and put his +hand to her side and held it there, saying: ‘Soon shall we be one in body +and in soul.’ + +And he laughed with joy and pride of life, and took her hand and led her +on again, and said: + +‘Yet feel the cold rings of my hauberk, my friend; look at the spears +that cumber my hand, and at Dale-warden hanging by my side. Thou shalt +yet see me as the Slain’s Chooser would see her speech-friend; for there +is much to do ere we win wheat-harvest in Burgdale.’ + +Therewith they stepped together on to the level ground of the waste, and +saw Bow-may sitting on a stone hard by, and Wood-wise standing beside her +bending his bow. Bow-may smiled on Gold-mane and rose up, and they all +went on together, turning so that they went nearly alongside the wall of +the Vale, but westering a little; then the Sun-beam said: + +‘Many a time have I trodden this heath alongside our rock-wall; for if ye +wend a little further as our faces are turned, ye come to the crags over +the place where the Shivering Flood goeth out of Shadowy Vale. There +when ye have clomb a little may’st thou stand on the edge of the +rock-wall, and look down and behold the Flood swirling and eddying in the +black gorge of the rocks, and see presently the reek of the force go up, +and hear the thunder of the waters as they pour over it: and all this +about us now is as the garden of our house—is it not so, Bow-may?’ + +‘Yea,’ said she, ‘and there are goodly cluster-berries to be gotten +hereabout in the autumn; many a time have the Sun-beam and I reddened our +lips with them. Yet is it best to be wary when war is abroad and hot +withal.’ + +‘Yea,’ said the Sun-beam, ‘and all this place comes into the story of our +House: lo! Gold-mane, two score paces before us a little on our right +hand those five grey stones. They are called the Rocks of the Elders: +for there in the first days of our abiding in Shadowy Vale the Elders +were wont to come together to talk privily upon our matters.’ + +Face-of-god looked thither as she spoke, but therewith saw Bow-may, who +went on the left hand of the Sun-beam, as Face-of-god on her right hand, +notch a shaft on her bent bow, and Wood-wise, who was on his right hand, +saw it also and did the like, and therewithal Face-of-god got his target +on to his arm, and even as he did so Bow-may cried out suddenly: + +‘Yea, yea! Cast thyself on to the ground, Sun-beam! Gold-mane, targe +and spear, targe and spear! For I see steel gleaming yonder out from +behind the Elders’ Rocks.’ + +Scarce were the words out of her mouth ere three shafts came flying, and +the bow-strings twanged. Gold-mane felt that one smote his helm and +glanced from it. Therewithal he saw the Sun-beam fall to earth, though +he knew not if she had but cast herself down as Bow-may bade. Bow-may’s +string twanged at once, and a yell came from the foemen: but Wood-wise +loosed not, but set his hand to his mouth and gave a loud wild cry—Ha! +ha! ha! ha! How-ow-ow!—ending in a long and exceeding great whoop like +nought but the wolf’s howl. Now Gold-mane thinking swiftly, in a moment +of time, as war-meet men do, judged that if the Sun-beam were hurt (and +she had made no cry), it were yet wiser to fall on the foe before turning +to tend her, or else all might be lost; so he rushed forward spear in +hand and target on arm, and saw, as he opened up the flank of the Elders’ +Rocks, six men, whereof one leaned aback on the rock with Bow-may’s shaft +in his shoulder, and two others were just in act of loosing at him. In a +moment, as he rushed at them, one shaft went whistling by him, and the +other glanced from off his target; he cast a spear as he bounded on, and +saw it smite one of the shooters full in the naked face, and saw the +blood spout out and change his face and the man roll over, and then in +another moment four men were hewing at him with their short steel axes. +He thrust out his target against them, and then let the weight of his +body come on his other spear, and drave it through the second shooter’s +throat, and even therewith was smitten on the helm so hard that, though +the Alderman’s work held out, he fell to his knees, holding his target +over his head and striving to draw forth Dale-warden; in that nick of +time a shaft whistled close by his ear, and as he rose to his feet again +he saw his foeman rolling over and over, clutching at the ling with both +hands. Then rang out again the terrible wolf-whoop from Wood-wise’s +mouth, and both he and Bow-may loosed a shaft, for the two other foes had +turned their backs and were fleeing fast. Again Bow-may hit the clout, +and the Dusky Man fell dead at once, but Wood-wise’s arrow flew over the +felon’s shoulder as he ran. Then in a trice was Gold-mane bounding after +him like the hare just roused from her form; for it came into his head +that these felons had beheld them coming up out of the Vale, and that if +even this one man escaped, he would bring his company down upon the +Vale-dwellers. + +Strong and light-foot as any was Face-of-god, and though he was cumbered +with his hauberk, yet was Iron-face’s handiwork far lighter than the +war-coat of the Dusky Man, and the race was soon over. The felon turned +breathless to meet Gold-mane, who drave his target against him and cast +him to earth, and as he strove to rise smote off his head at one stroke; +for Dale-warden was a good sword and the Dalesman as fierce of mood as +might be. There he let the felon lie, and, turning, walked back swiftly +toward the Elders’ Rocks, and found there Wood-wise and the dead foemen, +for the carle had slain the wounded, and he was now drawing the silver +arm-rings off the slain men; for all these Dusky Felons bore silver +arm-rings. But Bow-may was walking towards the Sun-beam, and thitherward +followed Gold-mane speedily. + +He found her sitting on a tussock of grass close by where she had fallen, +her face pale, her eyes eager and gleaming; she looked up at him as he +drew nigher and said: + +‘Friend, art thou hurt?’ + +‘Nay,’ he said, ‘and thou? Thou art pale.’ + +‘I am not hurt,’ she said. Then she smiled and said again: + +‘Did I not tell thee that I am no warrior like Bow-may here? Such deeds +make maidens pale.’ + +Said Bow-may: ‘If ye will have the truth, Gold-mane, she is not wont to +grow pale when battle is nigh her. Look you, she hath had the gift of a +new delight, and findeth it sweeter and softer than she had any thought +of; and now hath she feared lest it should be taken from her.’ + +‘Bow-may saith but the sooth,’ said the Sun-beam simply, ‘and kind it is +of her to say it. I saw thee, Bow-may, and good was thy shooting, and I +love thee for it.’ + +Said Bow-may: ‘I never shoot otherwise than well. But those idle +shooters of the Dusky Ones, whereabouts nigh to thee went their shafts?’ + +Said the Sun-beam: ‘One just lifted the hair by my left ear, and that was +not so ill-aimed; as for the other, it pierced my raiment by my right +knee, and pinned me to the earth, so that I tottered and fell, and my +gown and smock are grievously wounded, both of them.’ + +And she took the folds of the garments in her hands to show the rents +therein; and her colour was come again, and she was glad. + +‘What were best to do now?’ she said. + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Let us tarry a little; for some of thy carles shall +surely come up from the Vale: because they will have heard Wood-wise’s +whoop, since the wind sets that way.’ + +‘Yea, they will come,’ said the Sun-beam. + +‘Good is that,’ said Face-of-god; ‘for they shall take the dead felons +and cast them where they be not seen if perchance any more stray hereby. +For if they wind them, they may well happen on the path down to the Vale. +Also, my friend, it were well if thou wert to bid a good few of the +carles that are in the Vale to keep watch and ward about here, lest there +be more foemen wandering about the waste.’ + +She said: ‘Thou art wise in war, Gold-mane; I will do as thou biddest me. +But soothly this is a perilous thing that the Dusky Men are gotten so +close to the Vale.’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘This will Folk-might look to when he cometh home; and +it is most like that he will deem it good to fall on them somewhere a +good way aloof, so as to draw them off from wandering over the waste. +Also I will do my best to busy them when I am home in Burgdale.’ + +Therewith came up Wood-wise, and fell to talk with them; and his mind it +was that these foemen were but a band of strayers, and had had no inkling +of Shadowy Vale till they had heard them talking together as they came up +the path from the Vale, and that then they had made that ambush behind +the Elders’ Rocks, so that they might slay the men, and then bear off the +woman. He said withal that it would be best to carry their corpses +further on, so that they might be cast over the cliffs into the fierce +stream of the Shivering Flood. + +Amidst this talk came up men from the Vale, a score of them, well armed; +and they ran to meet the wayfarers; and when they heard what had +befallen, they rejoiced exceedingly, and were above all glad that +Face-of-god had shown himself doughty and deft; and they deemed his rede +wise, to set a watch thereabouts till Folk-might came home, and said that +they would do even so. + +Then spake the Sun-beam and said: + +‘Now must ye wayfarers depart; for the road is but rough, and the day not +over-long.’ + +Then she turned to Face-of-god and put her hand on his shoulder, and +brought her face close to his and spake to him softly: + +‘Doth this second parting seem at all strange to thee, and that I am now +so familiar to thee, I whom thou didst once deem to be a very goddess? +And now thou hast seen me redden before thine eyes because of thee; and +thou hast seen me grow pale with fear because of thee; and thou hast felt +my caresses which I might not refrain; even as if I were altogether such +a maiden as ye warriors hang about for a nine days’ wonder, and then all +is over save an aching heart—wilt thou do so with me? Tell me, have I +not belittled myself before thee as if I asked thee to scorn me? For +thus desire dealeth both with maid and man.’ + +He said: ‘In all this there is but one thing for me to say, and that is +that I love thee; and surely none the less, but rather the more, because +thou lovest me, and art of my kind, and mayest share in my deeds and +think well of them. Now is my heart full of joy, and one thing only +weigheth on it; and that is that my kinswoman the Bride begrudgeth our +love together. For this is the thing that of all things most misliketh +me, that any should bear a grudge against me.’ + +She said: ‘Forget not the token, and my message to her.’ + +‘I will not forget it,’ said he. ‘And now I bid thee to kiss me even +before all these that are looking on; for there is nought to belittle us +therein, since we be troth-plight.’ + +And indeed those folk stood all round about them gazing on them, but a +little aloof, that they might not hear their words if they were minded to +talk privily. For they had long loved the Sun-beam, and now the love of +Face-of-god had begun to spring up in their hearts. + +So the twain embraced and kissed one another, and made no haste +thereover; and those men deemed that but meet and right, and clashed +their weapons on their shields in token of their joy. + +Then Face-of-god turned about and strode out of the ring of men, with +Bow-may and Wood-wise beside him, and they went on their journey over the +necks towards Burgstead. But the Sun-beam turned slowly from that place +toward the Vale, and two of the stoutest carles went along with her to +guard her from harm, and she went down into the Vale pondering all these +things in her heart. + +Then the other carles dragged off the corpses of the Dusky Men till they +had brought them to the sheer rocks above the Shivering Flood, and there +they tossed them over into the boiling caldron of the force, and so +departed taking with them the silver arm-rings of the slain to add to the +tale. + +But when they came back into the Vale the Sun-beam duly ordered that +watch and ward to keep the ingate thereto, and note all that should +befall till Folk-might came home. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. FACE-OF-GOD COMETH HOME TO BURGSTEAD. + + +BUT Face-of-god with Bow-may and Wood-wise fared over the waste, going at +first alongside the cliffs of the Shivering Flood, and then afterwards +turning somewhat to the west. They soon had to climb a very high and +steep bent going up to a mountain-neck; and the way over the neck was +rough indeed when they were on it, and they toiled out of it into a +barren valley, and out of the valley again on to a rough neck; and +such-like their journey the day long, for they were going athwart all +those great dykes that went from the ice-mountains toward the lower dales +like the outspread fingers of a hand or the roots of a great tree. And +the ice-mountains they had on their left hands and whiles at their backs. + +They went very warily, with their bows bended and spear in hand, but saw +no man, good or bad, and but few living things. At noon they rested in a +valley where was a stream, but no grass, nought but stones and sand; but +where they were at least sheltered from the wind, which was mostly very +great in these high wastes; and there Bow-may drew meat and wine from a +wallet she bore, and they ate and drank, and were merry enough; and +Bow-may said: + +‘I would I were going all the way with thee, Gold-mane; for I long sore +to let my eyes rest a while on the land where I shall one day live.’ + +‘Yea,’ said Face-of-god, ‘art thou minded to dwell there? We shall be +glad of that.’ + +‘Whither are thy wits straying?’ said she; ‘whether I am minded to it or +not, I shall dwell there.’ + +And Wood-wise nodded a yea to her. But Face-of-god said: + +‘Good will be thy dwelling; but wherefore must it be so?’ + +Then Wood-wise laughed and said: ‘I shall tell thee in fewer words than +she will, and time presses now: Wood-father and Wood-mother, and I and my +two brethren and this woman have ever been about and anigh the Sun-beam; +and we deem that war and other troubles have made us of closer kin to her +than we were born, whether ye call it brotherhood or what not, and never +shall we sunder from her in life or in death. So when thou goest to +Burgdale with her, there shall we be.’ + +Then was Face-of-god glad when he found that they deemed his wedding so +settled and sure; but Wood-wise fell to making ready for the road. And +Face-of-god said to him: + +‘Tell me one thing, Wood-wise; that whoop that thou gavest forth when we +were at handy-strokes e’en now—is it but a cry of thine own or is it of +thy Folk, and shall I hear it again?’ + +‘Thou may’st look to hear it many a time,’ said Wood-wise, ‘for it is the +cry of the Wolf. Seldom indeed hath battle been joined where men of our +blood are, but that cry is given forth. Come now, to the road!’ + +So they went their ways and the road worsened upon them, and toilsome was +the climbing up steep bents and the scaling of doubtful paths in the +cliff-sides, so that the journey, though the distance of it were not so +long to the fowl flying, was much eked out for them, and it was not till +near nightfall that they came on the ghyll of the Weltering Water some +six miles above Burgstead. Forsooth Wood-wise said that the way might be +made less toilsome though far longer by turning back eastward a little +past the vale where they had rested at midday; and that seemed good to +Gold-mane, in case they should be wending hereafter in a great company +between Burgdale and Shadowy Vale. + +But now those two went with Face-of-god down a path in the side of the +cliff whereby him-seemed he had gone before; and they came down into the +ghyll and sat down together on a stone by the water-side, and Face-of-god +spake to them kindly, for he deemed them good and trusty faring-fellows. + +‘Bow-may,’ said he, ‘thou saidst a while ago that thou wouldst be fain to +look on Burgdale; and indeed it is fair and lovely, and ye may soon be in +it if ye will. Ye shall both be more than welcome to the house of my +father, and heartily I bid you thither. For night is on us, and the way +back is long and toilsome and beset with peril. Sister Bow-may, thou +wottest that it would be a sore grief to me if thou camest to any harm, +and thou also, fellow Wood-wise. Daylight is a good faring-fellow over +the waste.’ + +Said Bow-may: ‘Thou art kind, Gold-mane, and that is thy wont, I know; +and fain were I to-night of the candles in thine hall. But we may not +tarry; for thou wottest how busy we be at home; and Sun-beam needeth me, +if it were only to make her sure that no Dusky Man is bearing off thine +head by its lovely locks. Neither shall we journey in the mirk night; +for look you, the moon yonder.’ + +‘Well,’ said Face-of-god, ‘parting is ill at the best, and I would I +could give you twain a gift, and especially to thee, my sister Bow-may.’ + +Said Wood-wise: ‘Thou may’st well do that; or at least promise the gift; +and that is all one as if we held it in our hands.’ + +‘Yea,’ said Bow-may, ‘Wood-wise and I have been thinking in one way +belike; and I was at point to ask a gift of thee.’ + +‘What is it?’ said Gold-mane. ‘Surely it is thine, if it were but a +guerdon for thy good shooting.’ + +She laughed and handled the skirts of his hauberk as she said: + +‘Show us the dint in thine helm that the steel axe made this morning.’ + +‘There is no such great dint,’ said he; ‘my father forged that helm, and +his work is better than good.’ + +‘Yea,’ said Bow-may, ‘and might I have hauberk and helm of his handiwork, +and Wood-wise a good sword of the same, then were I a glad woman, and +this man a happy carle.’ + +Said Gold-mane: ‘I am well pleased at thine asking, and so shall +Iron-face be when he heareth of thine archery; and how that Hall-face +were now his only son but for thy close shooting. But now must I to the +way; for my heart tells me that there may have been tidings in Burgstead +this while I have been aloof.’ + +So they rose all three, and Bow-may said: + +‘Thou art a kind brother, and soon shall we meet again; and that will be +well.’ + +Then he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed both her cheeks; and he +kissed Wood-wise, and turned and went his ways, threading the stony +tangle about the Weltering Water, which was now at middle height, and +running clear and strong; so turning once he beheld Wood-wise and Bow-may +climbing the path up the side of the ghyll, and Bow-may turned to him +also and waved her bow as token of farewell. Then he went upon his way, +which was rough enough to follow by night, though the moon was shining +brightly high aloft. Yet as he knew his road he made but little of it +all, and in somewhat more than an hour and a half was come out of the +pass into the broken ground at the head of the Dale, and began to make +his way speedily under the bright moonlight toward the Gate, still going +close by the water. But as he went he heard of a sudden cries and rumour +not far from him, unwonted in that place, where none dwelt, and where the +only folk he might look to see were those who cast an angle into the +pools and eddies of the Water. Moreover, he saw about the place whence +came the cries torches moving swiftly hither and thither; so that he +looked to hear of new tidings, and stayed his feet and looked keenly +about him on every side; and just then, between his rough path and the +shimmer of the dancing moonlit water, he saw the moon smite on something +gleaming; so, as quietly as he could, he got his target on his arm, and +shortened his spear in his right hand, and then turned sharply toward +that gleam. Even therewith up sprang a man on his right hand, and then +another in front of him just betwixt him and the water; an axe gleamed +bright in the moon, and he caught a great stroke on his target, and +therewith drave his left shoulder straight forward, so that the man +before him fell over into the water with a mighty splash; for they were +at the very edge of the deepest eddy of the Water. Then he spun round on +his heel, heeding not that another stroke had fallen on his right +shoulder, yet ill-aimed, and not with the full edge, so that it ran down +his byrny and rent it not. So he sent the thrust of his spear crashing +through the face and skull of the smiter, and looked not to him as he +fell, but stood still, brandishing his spear and crying out, ‘For the +Burg and the Face! For the Burg and the Face!’ + +No other foe came against him, but like to the echo of his cry rose a +clear shout not far aloof, ‘For the Face, for the Face! For the Burg and +the Face!’ He muttered, ‘So ends the day as it begun,’ and shouted loud +again, ‘For the Burg and the Face!’ And in a minute more came breaking +forth from the stone-heaps into the moonlit space before the water the +tall shapes of the men of Burgstead, the red torchlight and the moonlight +flashing back from their war-gear and weapons; for every man had his +sword or spear in hand. + +Hall-face was the first of them, and he threw his arms about his brother +and said: ‘Well met, Gold-mane, though thou comest amongst us like +Stone-fist of the Mountain. Art thou hurt? With whom hast thou dealt? +Where be they? Whence comest thou?’ + +‘Nay, I am not hurt,’ said Face-of-god. ‘Stint thy questions then, till +thou hast told me whom thou seekest with spear and sword and candle.’ + +‘Two felons were they,’ said Hall-face, ‘even such as ye saw lying dead +at Wood-grey’s the other day.’ + +‘Then may ye sheathe your swords and go home,’ said Gold-mane, ‘for one +lieth at the bottom of the eddy, and the other, thy feet are well-nigh +treading on him, Hall-face.’ + +Then arose a rumour of praise and victory, and they brought the torches +nigh and looked at the fallen man, and found that he was stark dead; so +they even let him lie there till the morrow, and all turned about toward +the Thorp; and many looked on Face-of-god and wondered concerning him, +whence he was and what had befallen him. Indeed, they would have asked +him thereof, but could not get at him to ask; but whoso could, went as +nigh to Hall-face and him as they might, to hearken to the talk between +the brothers. + +So as they went along Hall-face did verily ask him whence he came: ‘For +was it not so,’ said he, ‘that thou didst enter into the wood seeking +some adventure early in the morning the day before yesterday?’ + +‘Sooth is that,’ said Face-of-god, ‘and I came to Shadowy Vale, and +thence am I come this morning.’ + +Said Hall-face: ‘I know not Shadowy Vale, nor doth any of us. This is a +new word. How say ye, friends, doth any man here know of Shadowy Vale?’ + +They all said, ‘Nay.’ + +Then said Hall-face: ‘Hast thou been amongst mere ghosts and marvels, +brother, or cometh this tale of thy minstrelsy?’ + +‘For all your words,’ said Gold-mane, ‘to that Vale have I been; and, to +speak shortly (for I desire to have your tale, and am waiting for it), I +will tell thee that I found there no marvels or strange wights, but a +folk of valiant men; a folk small in numbers, but great of heart; a folk +come, as we be, from the Fathers and the Gods. And this, moreover, is to +be said of them, that they are the foes of these felons of whom ye were +chasing these twain. And these same Dusky Men of Silver-dale would slay +them every man if they might; and if we look not to it they will soon be +doing the same by us; for they are many, and as venomous as adders, as +fierce as bears, and as foul as swine. But these valiant men, who bear +on their banner the image of the Wolf, should be our fellows in arms, and +they have good will thereto; and they shall show us the way to +Silver-dale by blind paths, so that we may fall upon these felons while +they dwell there tormenting the poor people of the land, and thus may we +destroy them as lads a hornet’s nest. Or else the days shall be hard for +us.’ + +The men who hung about them drank in his words greedily. But Hall-face +was silent a little while, and then he said: ‘Brother Gold-mane, these be +great tidings. Time was when we might have deemed them but a minstrel’s +tale; for Silver-dale we know not, of which thou speakest so glibly, nor +the Dusky Men, any more than the Shadowy Vale. Howbeit, things have +befallen these two last days so strange and new, that putting them +together with the murder at Wood-grey’s, and thy words which seem +somewhat wild, it may well seem to us that tidings unlooked for are +coming our way.’ + +‘Come, then,’ said Face-of-god, ‘give me what thou hast in thy scrip, and +trust me, I shall not jeer at thy tale.’ + +Said Hall-face: ‘I also will be short with the tale; and that the more, +as meseemeth it is not yet done, and that thou thyself shalt share in the +ending of it. It was the day before yesterday, that is the day when thou +departedst into the woods on that adventure whereof thou shalt one day +tell me more, wilt thou not?’ + +‘Yea, in good time,’ said Face-of-god. + +‘Well,’ quoth Hall-face, ‘we went into the woods that day and in the +morning, but after sunrise, to the number of a score: we looked to meet a +bear and a she-bear with cubs in a certain place; for one of the +Woodlanders, a keen hunter, had told us of their lair. Also we were +wishful to slay some of the wild-swine, the yearlings, if we might. +Therefore, though we had no helms or shields or coats of fence, we had +bowshot a plenty, and good store of casting-weapons, besides our +wood-knives and an axe or so; and some of us, of whom I was one, bore our +battle-swords, as we are wont ever to do, be the foe beast or man. + +‘Thus armed we went up Wildlake’s Way and came to Carlstead, where +half-a-score Woodlanders joined themselves to us, so that we became a +band. We went up the half-cleared places past Carlstead for a mile, and +then turned east into the wood, and went I know not how far, for the +Woodlanders led us by crooked paths, but two hours wore away in our +going, till we came to the place where they looked to find the bears. It +is a place that may well be noted, for it is unlike the wood round about. +There is a close thicket some two furlongs about of thorn and briar and +ill-grown ash and oak and other trees, planted by the birds belike; and +it stands as it were in an island amidst of a wide-spreading woodlawn of +fine turf, set about in the most goodly fashion with great tall +straight-boled oak-trees, that seem to have been planted of set purpose +by man’s hand. Yea, dost thou know the place?’ + +‘Methinks I do,’ said Gold-mane, ‘and I seem to have heard the +Woodlanders give it a name and call it Boars-bait.’ + +‘That may be,’ said Hall-face. ‘Well, there we were, the dogs and the +men, and we drew nigh the thicket and beset it, and doubted not to find +prey therein: but when we would set the dogs at the thicket to enter it, +they were uneasy, and would not take up the slot, but growled and turned +about this way and that, so that we deemed that they winded some fierce +beast at our flanks or backs. + +‘Even so it was, and fierce enough and deadly was the beast; for suddenly +we heard bow-strings twang, and shafts came flying; and Iron-shield of +the Upper Dale, who was close beside me, leapt up into the air and fell +down dead with an arrow through his back. Then I bethought me in the +twinkling of an eye, and I cried out, “The foe are on us! take the cover +of the tree-boles and be wary! For the Burg and the Face! For the Burg +and the Face!” + +‘So we scattered and covered ourselves with the oak-boles, but besides +Iron-shield, who was slain outright, two goodmen were sorely hurt, to wit +Bald-face, a man of our house, and Stonyford of the Lower Dale. + +‘I looked from behind my tree-bole, a great one; and far off down the +glades I saw men moving, clad in gay raiment; but nearer to me, not a +hundred yards from my cover, I saw an arm clad in scarlet come out from +behind a tree-bole, so I loosed at it, and missed not; for straight there +tottered out from behind the tree one of those dusky foul-favoured men +like to those that were slain by Wood-grey. I had another shaft ready +notched, so I loosed and set the shaft in his throat, and he fell. + +‘Straightway was a yelling and howling about us like the cries of scalded +curs, and the oak-wood swarmed thick with these felons rushing on us; for +it seems that the man whom I had slain was a chief amongst them, or we +judged so by his goodly raiment. + +‘Methought then our last day was come. What could we do but run together +again after we had loosed at a venture, and so withstand them sword and +spear in hand? Some fell beneath our shot, but not many, for they came +on very swiftly. + +‘So they fell on us; but for all their fierceness and their numbers they +might not break our array, and we slew four and hurt many by sword-hewing +and spear-casting and push of spear; and five of us were hurt and one +slain by their dart-casting. So they drew off from us a little, and +strove to spread out and fall to shooting at us again; but this we would +not suffer, but pushed on as they fell back, keeping as close together as +we might for the trees. For we said that we would all die together if +needs must; and verily the stour was hard. + +‘Yet hearken! In that nick of time rose up a strange cry not far from +us, Ha! ha! ha! ha! How-ow-ow! ending like the howl of a wolf, and then +another and another and another, till the whole wood rang again. + +‘At first we deemed that here were come fresh foemen, and that we were +undone indeed; but when they heard it, the foe-men before us faltered and +gave way, and at last turned their backs and fled, and we followed, +keeping well together still: thereby the more part of these men escaped +us, for they fled wildly here and there from those who bore that cry with +them; so we knew that our work was being done for us; therefore we stood, +and saw tall men clad in sheep-brown weed running through the glades +pursuing those felons and smiting them down, till both fleers and +pursuers passed out of our sight like men in a dream, or as when ye roll +up a pictured cloth to lay it in the coffer. + +‘But to Stone-face’s mind those brown-clad men were the Wights of the +Wood that be of the Fathers’ blood, and our very friends; and when some +of us would yet have gone forward and foregathered with them, and +followed the chase along with them, Stone-face gainsaid it, bidding us +not to run into the arms of a second death, when we had but just escaped +from the first. Sooth to say, moreover, we had divers hurt men that +needed looking to. + +‘So what with one thing, what with another, we turned back: but +War-cliff’s brother, a tall man, had felled two of those felons with an +oak sapling which he had torn from the thicket; but he had not slain +them, and by now they were just awakening from their swoon, and were +sitting up looking round them with fierce rolling eyes, expecting the +stroke, for Raven of Longscree was standing over them with a naked +war-sword in his hand. But now that our blood was cool, we were loth to +slay them as they lay in our hands; so we bound them and brought them +away with us; and our own dead we carried also on such biers as we might +lightly make there, and with them three that were so grievously hurt that +they might not go afoot, these we left at Carlstead: they were Tardy the +Son of the Untamed, and Swan of Bull-meadow, both of the Lower Dale, and +a Woodlander, Undoomed to wit. But the dead were Iron-shield aforesaid, +and Wool-sark, and the Hewer, a Woodlander. + +‘So came we sadly at eventide to Burgstead with the two dead Burgdalers, +and the captive felons, and the wounded of us that might go afoot; and ye +may judge that they of Burgdale and our father deemed these tidings great +enough, and wotted not what next should befall. Stone-face would have +had those two felons slain there and then; for no true tale could we get +out of them, nor indeed any word at all. But the Alderman would not have +it so; and he deemed they might serve our turn as hostages if any of our +folk should be taken: for one and all we deemed, and still deem, that war +is on us and that new folk have gathered on our skirts. + +‘So the captives were shut up in the red out-bower of our house; and our +father was minded that thou mightest tell us somewhat of them when thou +wert come home. But about dusk to-day the word went that they had broken +out and gotten them weapons and fled up the Dale; and so it was. + +‘But to-morrow morning will a Gate-thing be holden, and there it will be +looked for of thee that thou tell us a true tale of thy goings. For it +is deemed, and it is my deeming especially, that thou may’st tell us more +of these men than thou hast yet told us. Is it not so?’ + +‘Yea, surely,’ said Gold-mane, ‘I can make as many words as ye will about +it; yet when all is said, it will come to much the same tale as I have +already told thee. Yet belike, if ye are minded to take up the sword to +defend you, I may tell you in what wise to lay hold on the hilts.’ + +‘And that is well,’ said Hall-face, ‘and no less do I look for of thee. +But lo! here are we come to the Gate of the Burg that abideth battle.’ + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. TALK IN THE HALL OF THE HOUSE OF THE FACE. + + +IN sooth they were come to the very Gate of Burgstead, and the great +gates were shut, and only a wicket was open, and a half score of stout +men in all their war-gear were holding ward thereby. They gave place to +Hall-face and his company, albeit some of the warders followed them +through the wicket that they might hear the story told. + +The street was full of folk, both men and women, talking together eagerly +concerning all these tidings, and when they saw the men of the +Hue-and-cry they came thronging about them, so that they might scarce get +to the door of the House of the Face because of the press; so Hall-face +(who was a very tall man) cried out: + +‘Good people, all is well! the runaways are slain, and Face-of-god is +come back with us; give place a little, that we may come into our house.’ + +Then the throng set up a shout, and made way a little, so that Hall-face +and Gold-mane and the others could get to the door. And they entered +into the Hall, and saw much folk therein; and men were sitting at table, +for supper was not yet over. But when they saw the new-comers they +mostly rose up from the board and stood silent to hear the tale, for they +had been talking many together each to each, so that the Hall was full of +confused noise. + +So Hall-face again cried out: ‘Men in this hall, good is the tidings. +The runaways are slain; and it was Face-of-god who slew them as he came +back safe from the waste.’ + +Then they shouted for joy, and the brethren and Stone-face with them (for +he had entered with them from the street) went up on to the daïs, while +the others of the Hue-and-cry gat them seats where they might at the +endlong tables. + +But when Face-of-god came up on to the daïs, there sat Iron-face looking +down on the thronged Hall with a ruddy cheerful countenance, and beside +him sat the Bride; for he had caused her to be brought thither when he +had heard of the tidings of battle. She was daintily clad in a +flame-coloured kirtle embroidered with gold about the bosom and sleeves, +and there was a fillet of golden roses on her ruddy hair. Her eyes shone +bright and eager, and the pommels of her cheeks were flushed and red +contrary to their wont. Needs must Gold-mane sit by her, and when he +came close to her he knew not what to do, but he put forth his hand to +her, yet with a troubled countenance; for he feared her grief mingled +with her beauty: as for her, she wavered in her mind whether she should +forbear to touch him or not; but she saw that men about were looking at +them, and especially was Iron-face looking on her: therefore she stood up +and took Gold-mane’s hand and kissed his face as she had been wont to do, +and by then was her face as white as paper; and her anguish pierced his +heart, so that he well-nigh groaned for grief of her. But Iron-face +looked on her and said kindly: + +‘Kinswoman, thou art pale; thou hast feared for thy mate amidst all these +tidings of war, and still fearest for him. But pluck up a heart; for the +man is a deft warrior for all his fair face, which thou lovest as a woman +should, and his hands may yet save his head. And if he be slain, yet are +there other men of the kindred, and the earth will not be a desert to +thee even then.’ + +She looked at Iron-face, and the colour was come back to her face +somewhat, and she said: + +‘It is true; I have feared for him; for he goeth into perilous places. +But for thee, thou art kind, and I thank thee for it.’ + +And therewith she kissed Iron-face and sat down in her place, and strove +to overmaster her grief, that her face might not be changed by it; for +now were thoughts of battle, and valiant hopes arising in men’s hearts; +and it seemed to her too grievous if she should mar that feast on the eve +of battle. + +But Iron-face kissed and embraced his son and said: ‘Art thou late come +from the waste? Hast thou seen new things? We look to have a notable +tale from thee; though here also have been tidings, and it is not unlike +that we shall presently have new work on our hands.’ + +‘Father,’ quoth Face-of-god, ‘I deem that when thou hast heard my tale +thou wilt think no less of it than that there are valiant folk to be +holpen, poor folk to be delivered, and evil folk to be swept from off the +face of the earth.’ + +‘It is well, son,’ said Iron-face. ‘I see that thy tale is long; let it +alone for to-night. To-morrow shall we hold a Gate-thing, and then shall +we hear all that thou hast to tell. Now eat thy meat and drink a bowl of +wine, and comfort thy troth-plight maiden.’ + +So Gold-mane sat down by the Bride, and ate and drank as he needs must; +but he was ill at ease and he durst not speak to her. For, on the one +hand, he thought concerning his love for the Sun-beam, and how sweet and +good a thing it was that she should take him by the hand and lead him +into noble deeds and great fame, caressing him so softly and sweetly the +while; and, on the other hand, there sat the Bride beside him, sorrowful +and angry, begrudging all that sweetness of love, as though it were +something foul and unseemly; and heavy on him lay the weight of that +grudge, for he was a man of a friendly heart. + +Stone-face sat outward from him on the other side of the Bride; and he +leaned across her towards Gold-mane and said: + +‘Fair shall be thy tale to-morrow, if thou tellest us all thine +adventure. Or wilt thou tell us less than all?’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘In good time shalt thou know it all, foster-father; +but it is not unlike that by the time that thou hast heard it, there +shall be so many other things to tell of, that my tale shall seem of +little account to thee—even as the saw saith that one nail driveth out +the other.’ + +‘Yea,’ said Stone-face, ‘but one tale belike shall be knit up with the +others, as it fareth with the figures that come one after other on the +weaver’s cloth; though one maketh not the other, yet one cometh of the +other.’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Wise art thou now, foster-father, but thou shalt be +wiser yet in this matter by then a month hath worn: and to-morrow shalt +thou know enough to set thine hands a-work.’ + +So the talk fell between them; and the night wore, and the men of +Burgdale feasted in their ancient hall with merry hearts, little weighed +down by thought of the battle that might be and the trouble to come; for +they were valorous and kindly folk. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. FACE-OF-GOD GIVETH THAT TOKEN TO THE BRIDE. + + +NOW on the morrow, when Face-of-god arose and other men with him, and the +Hall was astir and there was no little throng therein, the Bride came up +to him; for she had slept in the House of the Face by the bidding of the +Alderman; and she spake to him before all men, and bade him come forth +with her into the garden, because she would speak to him apart. He +yeasaid her, though with a heavy heart; and to the folk about that seemed +meet and due, since those twain were deemed to be troth-plight, and they +smiled kindly on them as they went out of the Hall together. + +So they came into the garden, where the pear-trees were blossoming over +the spring lilies, and the cherries were showering their flowers on the +deep green grass, and everything smelled sweetly on the warm windless +spring morning. + +She led the way, going before him till they came by a smooth grass path +between the berry bushes, to a square space of grass about which were +barberry trees, their first tender leaves bright green in the sun against +the dry yellowish twigs. There was a sundial amidmost of the grass, and +betwixt the garden-boughs one could see the long grey roof of the ancient +hall; and sweet familiar sounds of the nesting birds and men and women +going on their errands were all about in the scented air. She turned +about at the sundial and faced Face-of-god, her hand lightly laid on the +scored brass, and spake with no anger in her voice: + +‘I ask thee if thou hast brought me the token whereon thou shalt swear to +give me that gift.’ + +‘Yea,’ said he; and therewith drew the ring from his bosom, and held it +out to her. She reached out her hand to him slowly and took it, and +their fingers met as she did so, and he noted that her hand was warm and +firm and wholesome as he well remembered it. + +She said: ‘Whence hadst thou this fair finger-ring?’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘My friend there in the mountain-valley drew it from +off her finger for thee, and bade me bear thee a message.’ + +Her face flushed red: ‘Yea,’ she said, ‘and doth she send me a message? +Then doth she know of me, and ye have talked of me together. Well, give +the message!’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘She saith, that thou shalt bear in mind, That +to-morrow is a new day.’ + +‘Yea,’ she said, ‘for her it is so, and for thee; but not for me. But +now I have brought thee here that thou mightest swear thine oath to me; +lay thine hand on this ring and on this brazen plate whereby the sun +measures the hours of the day for happy folk, and swear by the +spring-tide of the year and all glad things that find a mate, and by the +God of the Earth that rejoiceth in the life of man.’ + +Then he laid his hand on the finger-ring as it lay on the dial-plate and +said: + +‘By the spring-tide and the live things that long to multiply their kind; +by the God of the Earth that rejoiceth in the life of man, I swear to +give to my kinswoman the Bride the second man-child that I beget; to be +hers, to leave or cherish, to love or hate, as her will may bid her.’ +Then he looked on her soberly and said: ‘It is duly sworn; is it enough?’ + +‘Yea,’ she said; but he saw how the tears ran out of her eyes and wetted +the bosom of her kirtle, and she hung her head for shame of her grief. +And Gold-mane was all abashed, and had no word to say; for he knew that +no word of his might comfort her; and he deemed it ill done to stay there +and behold her sorrow; and he knew not how to get him gone, and be glad +elsewhere, and leave her alone. + +Then, as if she had read his thought, she looked up at him and said +smiling a little amidst of her tears: + +‘I bid thee stay by me till the flood is over; for I have yet a word to +say to thee.’ + +So he stood there gazing down on the grass in his turn, and not daring to +raise his eyes to her face, and the minutes seemed long to him: till at +last she said in a voice scarcely yet clear of weeping: + +‘Wilt thou say anything to me, and tell me what thou hast done, and why, +and what thou deemest will come of it?’ + +He said: ‘I will tell the truth as I know it, because thou askest it of +me, and not because I would excuse myself before thee. What have I done? +Yesterday I plighted my troth to wed the woman that I met last autumn in +the wood. And why? I wot not why, but that I longed for her. Yet I +must tell thee that it seemed to me, and yet seemeth, that I might do no +otherwise—that there was nothing else in the world for me to do. What do +I deem will come of it, sayest thou? This, that we shall be happy +together, she and I, till the day of our death.’ + +She said: ‘And even so long shall I be sorry: so far are we sundered now. +Alas! who looked for it? And whither shall I turn to now?’ + +Said Gold-mane: ‘She bade me tell thee that to-morrow is a new day: +meseemeth I know her meaning.’ + +‘No word of hers hath any meaning to me,’ said the Bride. + +‘Nay,’ said he, ‘but hast thou not heard these rumours of war that are in +the Dale? Shall not these things avail thee? Much may grow out of them; +and thou with the mighty heart, so faithful and compassionate!’ + +She said: ‘What sayest thou? What may grow out of them? Yea, I have +heard those rumours as a man sick to death heareth men talk of their +business down in the street while he lieth on his bed; and already he +hath done with it all, and hath no world to mend or mar. For me nought +shall grow out of it. What meanest thou?’ + +Said Gold-mane: ‘Is there nought in the fellowship of Folks, and the +aiding of the valiant, and the deliverance of the hapless?’ + +‘Nay,’ she said, ‘there is nought to me. I cannot think of it to-day nor +yet to-morrow belike. Yet true it is that I may mingle in it, though +thinking nought of it. But this shall not avail me.’ + +She was silent a little, but presently spake and said: ‘Thou sayest +right; it is not thou that hast done this, but the woman who sent me the +ring and the message of an old saw. O that she should be born to sunder +us! How hath it befallen that I am now so little to thee and she so +much?’ + +And again she was silent; and after a while Face-of-god spake kindly and +softly and said: ‘Kinswoman, wilt thou for ever begrudge our love? this +grudge lieth heavy on my soul, and it is I alone that have to bear it.’ + +She said: ‘This is but a light burden for thee to bear, when thou hast +nought else to bear! But do I begrudge thee thy love, Gold-mane? I know +not that. Rather meseemeth I do not believe in it—nor shall do ever.’ + +Then she held her peace a long while, nor did he speak one word: and they +were so still, that a robin came hopping about them, close to the hem of +her kirtle, and a starling pitched in the apple-tree hard by and whistled +and chuckled, turning about and about, heeding them nought. Then at last +she lifted up her face from looking on the grass and said: ‘These are +idle words and avail nothing: one thing only I know, that we are +sundered. And now it repenteth me that I have shown thee my tears and my +grief and my sickness of the earth and those that dwell thereon. I am +ashamed of it, as if thou hadst smitten me, and I had come and shown thee +the stripes, and said, See what thou hast done! hast thou no pity? Yea, +thou pitiest me, and wilt try to forget thy pity. Belike thou art right +when thou sayest, To-morrow is a new day; belike matters will arise that +will call me back to life, and I shall once more take heed of the joy and +sorrow of my people. Nay, it is most like that this I shall feign to do +even now. But if to-morrow be a new day, it is to-day now and not +to-morrow, and so shall it be for long. Hereof belike we shall talk no +more, thou and I. For as the days wear, the dealings between us shall be +that thou shalt but get thee away from my life, and I shall be nought to +thee but the name of a kinswoman. Thus should it be even wert thou to +strive to make it otherwise; and thou shalt _not_ strive. So let all +this be; for this is not the word I had to say to thee. But hearken! now +are we sundered, and it irketh me beyond measure that folk know it not, +and are kind, and rejoice in our love, and deem it a happy thing for the +folk; and this burden I may bear no longer. So I shall declare unto men +that I will not wed thee; and belike they may wonder why it is, till they +see thee wedded to the Woman of the Mountain. Art thou content that so +it shall be?’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Nay, thou shalt not take this all upon thyself; I also +shall declare unto the Folk that I will wed none but her, the +Mountain-Woman.’ + +She said: ‘This shalt thou not do; I forbid it thee. And I _will_ take +it all upon myself. Shall I have it said of me that I am unmeet to wed +thee, and that thou hast found me out at last and at latest? I lay this +upon thee, that wheresoever I declare this and whatsoever I may say, thou +shalt hold thy peace. This at least thou may’st do for me. Wilt thou?’ + +‘Yea,’ he said, ‘though it shall put me to shame.’ + +Again she was silent for a little; then she said: + +‘O Gold-mane, this would I take upon myself not soothly for any shame of +seeming to be thy cast-off; but because it is I who needs must bear all +the sorrow of our sundering; and I have the will to bear it greater and +heavier, that I may be as the women of old time, and they that have come +from the Gods, lest I belittle my life with malice and spite and +confusion, and it become poisonous to me. Be at peace! be at peace! And +leave all to the wearing of the years; and forget not that which thou +hast sworn!’ + +Therewith she turned and went from that green place toward the House of +the Face, walking slowly through the garden amongst the sweet odours, +beneath the fair blossoms, a body most dainty and beauteous of fashion, +but the casket of grievous sorrow, which all that goodliness availed not. + +But Face-of-god lingered in that place a little, and for that little +while the joy of his life was dulled and overworn; and the days before +his wandering on the mountain seemed to him free and careless and happy +days that he could not but regret. He was ashamed, moreover, that this +so unquenchable grief should come but of him, and the pleasure of his +life, which he himself had found out for himself, and which was but such +a little portion of the Earth and the deeds thereof. But presently his +thought wandered from all this, and as he turned away from the sundial +and went his ways through the garden, he called to mind his longing for +the day of the spring market, when he should see the Sun-beam again and +be cherished by the sweetness of her love. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. OF THE GATE-THING AT BURGSTEAD. + + +BUT now must he hasten, for the Gate-thing was to be holden two hours +before noon; so he betook him speedily to the Hall, and took his shield +and did on a goodly helm and girt his sword to his side, for men must +needs go to all folk-motes with their weapons and clad in war-gear. Thus +he went forth to the Gate with many others, and there already were many +folk assembled in the space aforesaid betwixt the Gate of the Burg and +the sheer rocks on the face of which were the steps that led up to the +ancient Tower on the height. The Alderman was sitting on the great stone +by the Gate-side which was his appointed place, and beside him on the +stone bench were the six Wardens of the Burg; but of the six Wardens of +the Dale there were but three, for the others had not yet heard tell of +the battle or had got the summons to the Thing, since they had been about +their business down the Dale. + +Face-of-god took his place silently amongst the neighbours, but men made +way for him, so that he must needs stand in front, facing his father and +the Wardens; and there went up a murmur of expectation round about him, +both because the word had gone about that he had a tale of new tidings to +tell, and also because men deemed him their best and handiest man, though +he was yet so young. + +Now the Alderman looked around and beheld a great throng gathered +together, and he looked on the shadow of the Gate which the southering +sun was casting on the hard white ground of the Thing-stead, and he saw +that it had just taken in the standing-stone which was in the midst of +the place. On the face of the said stone was carven the image of a +fighting man with shield on arm and axe in hand; for it had been set +there in old time in memory of the man who had bidden the Folk build the +Gate and its wall, and had showed them how to fashion it: for he was a +deft house-smith as well as a great warrior; and his name was Iron-hand. +So when the Alderman saw that this stone was wholly within the shadow of +the Gate he knew that it was the due time for the hallowing-in of the +Thing. So he bade one of the wardens who sat beside him and had a great +slug-horn slung about him, to rise and set the horn to his mouth. + +So that man arose and blew three great blasts that went bellowing about +the towers and down the street, and beat back again from the face of the +sheer rocks and up them and over into the wild-wood; and the sound of it +went on the light west-wind along the lips of the Dale toward the +mountain wastes. And many a goodman, when he heard the voice of the horn +in the bright spring morning, left spade or axe or plough-stilts, or the +foddering of the ewes and their younglings, and turned back home to fetch +his sword and helm and hasten to the Thing, though he knew not why it was +summoned: and women wending over the meadows, who had not yet heard of +the battle in the wood, hearkened and stood still on the green grass or +amidst the ripples of the ford, and the threat of coming trouble smote +heavy on their hearts, for they knew that great tidings must be towards +if a Thing must needs be summoned so close to the Great Folk-mote. + +But now the Alderman stood up and spake amidst the silence that followed +the last echoes of the horn: + +‘Now is hallowed in this Gate-thing of the Burgstead Men and the Men of +the Dale, wherein they shall take counsel concerning matters late +befallen, that press hard upon them. Let no man break the peace of the +Holy Thing, lest he become a man accursed in holy places from the plain +up to the mountain, and from the mountain down to the plain; a man not to +be cherished of any man of good will, not be holpen with victuals or +edge-tool or draught-beast; a man to be sheltered under no roof-tree, and +warmed at no hearth of man: so help us the Warrior and the God of the +Earth, and Him of the Face, and all the Fathers!’ + +When he had spoken men clashed their weapons in token of assent; and he +sat down again, and there was silence for a space. But presently came +thrusting forward a goodman of the Dale, who seemed as if he had come +hurriedly to the Thing; for his face was running down with sweat, his +wide-rimmed iron cap sat awry over his brow, and he was girt with a rusty +sword without a scabbard, and the girdle was ill-braced up about his +loins. So he said: + +‘I am Red-coat of Waterless of the Lower Dale. Early this morning as I +was going afield I met on the way a man akin to me, Fox of Upton to wit, +and he told me that men were being summoned to a Gate-thing. So I turned +back home, and caught up any weapon that came handy, and here I am, +Alderman, asking thee of the tidings which hath driven thee to call this +Thing so hard on the Great Folk-mote, for I know them nothing so.’ + +Then stood up Iron-face the Alderman and said: ‘This is well asked, and +soon shall ye be as wise as I am on this matter. Know ye, O men of +Burgstead and the Dale, that we had not called this Gate-thing so hard on +the Great Folk-mote had not great need been to look into troublous +matters. Long have ye dwelt in peace, and it is years on years now since +any foeman hath fallen on the Dale: but, as ye will bear in mind, last +autumn were there ransackings in the Dale and amidst of the Shepherds +after the manner of deeds of war; and it troubleth us that none can say +who wrought these ill deeds. Next, but a little while agone, was +Wood-grey, a valiant goodman of the Woodlanders, slain close to his own +door by evil men. These men we took at first for mere gangrel felons and +outcasts from their own folk: though there were some who spoke against +that from the beginning. + +‘But thirdly are new tidings again: for three days ago, while some of the +folk were hunting peaceably in the Wild-wood and thinking no evil, they +were fallen upon of set purpose by a host of men-at-arms, and nought +would serve but mere battle for dear life, so that many of our neighbours +were hurt, and three slain outright; and now mark this, that those who +there fell upon our folk were clad and armed even as the two felons that +slew Wood-grey, and moreover were like them in aspect of body. Now stand +forth Hall-face my son, and answer to my questions in a loud voice, so +that all may hear thee.’ + +So Hall-face stood forth, clad in gleaming war-gear, with an axe over his +shoulder, and seemed a doughty warrior. And Iron-face said to him: + +‘Tell me, son, those whom ye met in the wood, and of whom ye brought home +two captives, how much like were they to the murder-carles at +Wood-grey’s?’ + +Said Hall-face: ‘As like as peas out of the same cod, and to our eyes all +those whom we saw in the wood might have been sons of one father and one +mother, so much alike were they.’ + +‘Yea,’ said the Alderman; ‘now tell me how many by thy deeming fell upon +you in the wood?’ + +Said Hall-face: ‘We deemed that if they were any less than threescore, +they were little less.’ + +‘Great was the odds,’ said the Alderman. ‘Or how many were ye?’ + +‘One score and seven,’ said Hall-face. + +Said the Alderman: ‘And yet ye escaped with life all save those three?’ + +Hall-face said: ‘I deem that scarce one should have come back alive, had +it not been that as we fought came a noise like the howling of wolves, +and thereat the foemen turned and fled, and there followed on the fleers +tall men clad in sheep-brown raiment, who smote them down as they fled.’ + +‘Here then is the story, neighbours,’ said the Alderman, ‘and ye may see +thereby that if those slayers of Wood-grey were outcast, their band is a +great one; but it seemeth rather that they were men of a folk whose craft +it is to rob with the armed hand, and to slay the robbed; and that they +are now gathering on our borders for war. Yet, moreover, they have +foemen in the woods who should be fellows-in-arms of us. How sayest +thou, Stone-face? Thou art old, and hast seen many wars in the Dale, and +knowest the Wild-wood to its innermost. + +‘Alderman,’ said Stone-face, ‘and ye neighbours of the Dale, maybe these +foes whom ye have met are not of the race of man, but are trolls and +wood-wights. Now if they be trolls it is ill, for then is the world +growing worser, and the wood shall be right perilous for those who needs +must fare therein. Yet if they be men it is a worse matter; for the +trolls would not come out of the waste into the sunlight of the Dale. +But these foes, if they be men, are lusting after our fair Dale to eat it +up, and it is most like that they are gathering a huge host to fall upon +us at home. Such things I have heard of when I was young, and the aspect +of the evil men who overran the kindreds of old time, according to all +tales and lays that I have heard, is even such as the aspect of those +whom we have seen of late. As to those wolves who saved the neighbours +and chased their foemen, there is one here who belike knoweth more of all +this than we do, and that, O Alderman, is thy son whom I have fostered, +Face-of-god to wit. Bid him answer to thy questioning, and tell us what +he hath seen and heard of late; then shall we verily know the whole story +as far as it can be known.’ + +Then men pressed round, and were eager to hear what Face-of-god would be +saying. But or ever the Alderman could begin to question him, the throng +was cloven by new-comers, and these were the men who had been sent to +bring home the corpses of the Dusky Men: so they had cast loaded hooks +into the Weltering Water, and had dragged up him whom Face-of-god had +shoved into the eddy, and who had sunk like a stone just where he fell, +and now they were bringing him on a bier along with him who had been +slain a-land. They were set down in the place before the Alderman, and +men who had not seen them before looked eagerly on them that they might +behold the aspect of their foemen; and nought lovely were they to look +on; for the drowned man was already bleached and swollen with the water, +and the other, his face was all wryed and twisted with that spear-thrust +in the mouth. + +Then the Alderman said: ‘I would question my son Face-of-god. Let him +stand forth!’ + +And therewith he smiled merrily in his son’s face, for he was standing +right in front of him; and he said: + +‘Ask of me, Alderman, and I will answer.’ + +‘Kinsman,’ said Iron-face, ‘look at these two dead men, and tell me, if +thou hast seen any such besides those two murder-carles who were slain at +Carlstead; or if thou knowest aught of their folk?’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Yesterday I saw six others like to these both in array +and of body, and three of them I slew, for we were in battle with them +early in the morning.’ + +There was a murmur of joy at this word, since all men took these felons +for deadly foemen; but Iron-face said: ‘What meanest thou by “we”?’ + +‘I and the men who had guested me overnight,’ said Face-of-god, ‘and they +slew the other three; or rather a woman of them slew the felons.’ + +‘Valiant she was; all good go with her hand!’ said the Alderman. ‘But +what be these people, and where do they dwell?’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘As to what they are, they are of the kindred of the +Gods and the Fathers, valiant men, and guest-cherishing: rich have they +been, and now are poor: and their poverty cometh of these same felons, +who mastered them by numbers not to be withstood. As to where they +dwell: when I say the name of their dwelling-place men mock at me, as if +I named some valley in the moon: yet came I to Burgdale thence in one day +across the mountain-necks led by sure guides, and I tell thee that the +name of their abode is Shadowy Vale.’ + +‘Yea,’ said Iron-face, ‘knoweth any man here of Shadowy Vale, or where it +is?’ + +None answered for a while; but there was an old man who was sitting on +the shafts of a wain on the outskirts of the throng, and when he heard +this word he asked his neighbour what the Alderman was saying, and he +told him. Then said that elder: + +‘Give me place; for I have a word to say hereon.’ Therewith he arose, +and made his way to the front of the ring of men, and said: ‘Alderman, +thou knowest me?’ + +‘Yea,’ said Iron-face, ‘thou art called the Fiddle, because of thy sweet +speech and thy minstrelsy; whereof I mind me well in the time when I was +young and thou no longer young.’ + +‘So it is,’ said the Fiddle. ‘Now hearken! When I was very young I +heard of a vale lying far away across the mountain-necks; a vale where +the sun shone never in winter and scantily in summer; for my sworn +foster-brother, Fight-fain, a bold man and a great hunter, had happened +upon it; and on a day in full midsummer he brought me thither; and even +now I see the Vale before me as in a picture; a marvellous place, well +grassed, treeless, narrow, betwixt great cliff-walls of black stone, with +a green river running through it towards a yawning gap and a huge force. +Amidst that Vale was a doom-ring of black stones, and nigh thereto a +feast-hall well builded of the like stones, over whose door was carven +the image of a wolf with red gaping jaws, and within it (for we entered +into it) were stone benches on the daïs. Thence we came away, and +thither again we went in late autumn, and so dusk and cold it was at that +season, that we knew not what to call it save the valley of deep shade. +But its real name we never knew; for there was no man there to give us a +name or tell us any tale thereof; but all was waste there; the wimbrel +laughed across its water, the raven croaked from its crags, the eagle +screamed over it, and the voices of its waters never ceased; and thus we +left it. So the seasons passed, and we went thither no more: for +Fight-fain died, and without him wandering over the waste was irksome to +me; so never have I seen that valley again, or heard men tell thereof. + +‘Now, neighbours, have I told you of a valley which seemeth to be Shadowy +Vale; and this is true and no made-up story.’ + +The Alderman nodded kindly to him, and then said to Face-of-god: +‘Kinsman, is this word according with what thou knowest of Shadowy Vale?’ + +‘Yea, on all points,’ said Face-of-god; ‘he hath put before me a picture +of the valley. And whereas he saith, that in his youth it was waste, +this also goeth with my knowledge thereof. For once was it peopled, and +then was waste, and now again is it peopled.’ + +‘Tell us then more of the folk thereof,’ said the Alderman; ‘are they +many?’ + +‘Nay,’ said Face-of-god, ‘they are not. How might they be many, dwelling +in that narrow Vale amid the wastes? But they are valiant, both men and +women, and strong and well-liking. Once they dwelt in a fair dale called +Silver-dale, the name whereof will be to you as a name in a lay; and +there were they wealthy and happy. Then fell upon them this murderous +Folk, whom they call the Dusky Men; and they fought and were overcome, +and many of them were slain, and many enthralled, and the remnant of them +escaped through the passes of the mountains and came back to dwell in +Shadowy Vale, where their forefathers had dwelt long and long ago; and +this overthrow befell them ten years agone. But now their old foemen +have broken out from Silver-dale and have taken to scouring the wood +seeking prey; so they fall upon these Dusky Men as occasion serves, and +slay them without pity, as if they were adders or evil dragons; and +indeed they be worse. And these valiant men know for certain that their +foemen are now of mind to fall upon this Dale and destroy it, as they +have done with others nigher to them. And they will slay our men, and +lie with our women against their will, and enthrall our children, and +torment all those that lie under their hands till life shall be worse +than death to them. Therefore, O Alderman and Wardens, and ye neighbours +all, it behoveth you to take counsel what we shall do, and that +speedily.’ + +There was again a murmur, as of men nothing daunted, but intent on taking +some way through the coming trouble. But no man said aught till the +Alderman spake: + +‘When didst thou first happen upon this Earl-folk, son?’ + +‘Late last autumn,’ said Face-of-god. + +Said Iron-face: ‘Then mightest thou have told us of this tale before.’ + +‘Yea,’ said his son, ‘but I knew it not, or but little of it, till two +days agone. In the autumn I wandered in the woodland, and on the fell I +happened on a few of this folk dwelling in a booth by the pine-wood; and +they were kind and guest-fain with me, and gave me meat and drink and +lodging, and bade me come to Shadowy Vale in the spring, when I should +know more of them. And that was I fain of; for they are wise and goodly +men. But I deemed no more of those that I saw there save as men who had +been outlawed by their own folk for deeds that were unlawful belike, but +not shameful, and were biding their time of return, and were living as +they might meanwhile. But of the whole Folk and their foemen knew I no +more than ye did, till two days agone, when I met them again in Shadowy +Vale. Also I think before long ye shall see their chieftain in +Burgstead, for he hath a word for us. Lastly, my mind it is that those +brown-clad men who helped Hall-face and his company in the wood were +nought but men of this Earl-kin seeking their foemen; for indeed they +told me that they had come upon a battle in the woodland wherein they had +slain their foemen. Now have I told you all that ye need to know +concerning these matters.’ + +Again was there silence as Iron-face sat pondering a question for his +son; then a goodman of the Upper Dale, Gritgarth to wit, spake and said: + +‘Gold-mane mine, tell us how many is this folk; I mean their +fighting-men?’ + +‘Well asked, neighbour,’ said Iron-face. + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Their fighting-men of full age may be five score; but +besides that there shall be some two or three score of women that will +fight, whoever says them nay; and many of these are little worse in the +field than men; or no worse, for they shoot well in the bow. Moreover, +there will be a full score of swains not yet twenty winters old whom ye +may not hinder to fight if anything is a-doing.’ + +‘This is no great host,’ said the Alderman; ‘yet if they deem there is +little to lose by fighting, and nought to gain by sitting still, they may +go far in winning their desire; and that more especially if they may draw +into their quarrel some other valiant Folk more in number than they be. +I marvel not, though, they were kind to thee, son Gold-mane, if they knew +who thou wert.’ + +‘They knew it,’ said Face-of-god. + +‘Neighbours,’ said the Alderman, ‘have ye any rede hereon, and aught to +say to back your rede?’ + +Then spake the Fiddle: ‘As ye know and may see, I am now very old, and, +as the word goes, unmeet for battle: yet might I get me to the field, +either on mine own legs or on the legs of some four-foot beast, I would +strike, if it were but one stroke, on these pests of the earth. And, +Alderman, meseemeth we shall do amiss if we bid not the Earl-folk of +Shadowy Vale to be our fellows in arms in this adventure. For look you, +how few soever they be, they will be sure to know the ways of our foemen, +and the mountain passes, and the surest and nighest roads across the +necks and the mires of the waste; and though they be not a host, yet +shall they be worth a host to us?’ + +When men heard his words they shouted for joy of them; for hatred of the +Dusky Men who should so mar their happy life in the Dale was growing up +in them, and the more that hatred waxed, the more waxed their love of +those valiant ones. + +Now Red-coat of Waterless spake again: he was a big man, both tall and +broad, ruddy-faced and red-haired, some forty winters old. He said: + +‘Life hath been well with us of the Lower Dale, and we deem that we have +much to lose in losing it. Yet ill would the bargain be to buy life with +thralldom: we have been over-merry hitherto for that. Therefore I say, +to battle! And as to these men, these well-wishers of Face-of-god, if +they also are minded for battle with our foes, we were fools indeed if we +did not join them to our company, were they but one score instead of +six.’ + +Men shouted again, and they said that Red-coat had spoken well. Then one +after other the goodmen of the Dale came and gave their word for +fellowship in arms with the Men of Shadowy Vale, if there were such as +Face-of-god had said, which they doubted not; and amongst them that spake +were Fox of Nethertown, and Warwell, and Gritgarth, and Bearswain, and +Warcliff, and Hart of Highcliff, and Worm of Willowholm, and Bullsbane, +and Highneb of the Marsh: all these were stout men-at-arms and men of +good counsel. + +Last of all the Alderman spake and said: + +‘As to the war, that must we needs meet if all be sooth that we have +heard, and I doubt it not. + +‘Now therefore let us look to it like wise men while time yet serves. Ye +shall know that the muster of the Dalesmen will bring under shield eight +long hundreds of men well-armed, and of the Shepherd-Folk four hundreds, +and of the Woodlanders two hundreds; and this is a goodly host if it be +well ordered and wisely led. Now am I your Alderman and your Doomster, +and I can heave up a sword as well as another maybe, nor do I think that +I shall blench in the battle; yet I misdoubt me that I am no leader or +orderer of men-of-war: therefore ye will do wisely to choose a wiser +man-at-arms than I be for your War-leader; and if at the Great Folk-mote, +when all the Houses and Kindreds are gathered, men yeasay your choosing, +then let him abide; but if they naysay it, let him give place to another. +For time presses. Will ye so choose?’ + +‘Yea, yea!’ cried all men. + +‘Good is that, neighbours,’ said the Alderman. ‘Whom will ye have for +War-leader? Consider well.’ + +Short was their rede, for every man opened his mouth and cried out +‘Face-of-god!’ Then said the Alderman: + +‘The man is young and untried; yet though he is so near akin to me, I +will say that ye will do wisely to take him; for he is both deft of his +hands and brisk; and moreover, of this matter he knoweth more than all we +together. Now therefore I declare him your War-leader till the time of +the Great Folk-mote.’ + +Then all men shouted with great glee and clashed their weapons; but some +few put their heads together and spake apart a little while, and then one +of them, Red-coat of Waterless to wit, came forward and said: ‘Alderman, +some of us deem it good that Stone-face, the old man wise in war and in +the ways of the Wood, should be named as a counsellor to the War-leader; +and Hall-face, a very brisk and strong young man, to be his right hand +and sword-bearer.’ + +‘Good is that,’ said Iron-face. ‘Neighbours, will ye have it so?’ This +also they yeasaid without delay, and the Alderman declared Stone-face and +Hall-face the helpers of Face-of-god in this business. Then he said: + +‘If any hath aught to say concerning what is best to be done at once, it +were good that he said it now before all and not to murmur and grudge +hereafter.’ + +None spake save the Fiddle, who said: ‘Alderman and War-leader, one thing +would I say: that if these foemen are anywise akin to those overrunners +of the Folks of whom the tales went in my youth (for I also as well as +Stone-face mind me well of those tales concerning them), it shall not +avail us to sit still and await their onset. For then may they not be +withstood, when they have gathered head and burst out and over the folk +that have been happy, even as the waters that overtop a dyke and cover +with their muddy ruin the deep green grass and the flower-buds of spring. +Therefore my rede is, as soon as may be to go seek these folk in the +woodland and wheresoever else they may be wandering. What sayest thou, +Face-of-god?’ + +‘My rede is as thine,’ said he; ‘and to begin with, I do now call upon +ten tens of good men to meet me in arms at the beginning of Wildlake’s +Way to-morrow morning at daybreak; and I bid my brother Hall-face to +summon such as are most meet thereto. For this I deem good, that we +scour the wood daily at present till we hear fresh tidings from them of +Shadowy Vale, who are nigher than we to the foemen. Now, neighbours, are +ye ready to meet me?’ + +Then all shouted, ‘Yea, we will go, we will go!’ + +Said the Alderman: ‘Now have we made provision for the war in that which +is nearest to our hands. Yet have we to deal with the matter of the +fellowship with the Folk whom Face-of-god hath seen. This is a matter +for thee, son, at least till the Great Folk-mote is holden. Tell me +then, shall we send a messenger to Shadowy Vale to speak with this folk, +or shall we abide the chieftain’s coming?’ + +‘By my rede,’ said Face-of-god, ‘we shall abide his coming: for first, +though I might well make my way thither, I doubt if I could give any the +bearings, so that he could come there without me; and belike I am needed +at home, since I am become War-leader. Moreover, when your messenger +cometh to Shadowy Vale, he may well chance to find neither the chieftain +there, nor the best of his men; for whiles are they here, and whiles +there, as they wend following after the Dusky Men.’ + +‘It is well, son,’ said the Alderman, ‘let it be as thou sayest: soothly +this matter must needs be brought before the Great Folk-mote. Now will I +ask if any other hath any word to say, or any rede to give before this +Gate-thing sundereth?’ + +But no man came forward, and all men seemed well content and of good +heart; and it was now well past noontide. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. THE ENDING OF THE GATE-THING. + + +BUT just as the Alderman was on the point of rising to declare the +breaking-up of the Thing, there came a stir in the throng and it opened, +and a warrior came forth into the innermost of the ring of men, arrayed +in goodly glittering War-gear; clad in such wise that a tunicle of +precious gold-wrought web covered the hauberk all but the sleeves +thereof, and the hem of it beset with blue mountain-stones smote against +the ankles and well-nigh touched the feet, shod with sandals +gold-embroidered and gemmed. This warrior bore a goodly gilded helm on +the head, and held in hand a spear with gold-garlanded shaft, and was +girt with a sword whose hilts and scabbard both were adorned with gold +and gems: beardless, smooth-cheeked, exceeding fair of face was the +warrior, but pale and somewhat haggard-eyed: and those who were nearby +beheld and wondered; for they saw that there was come the Bride arrayed +for war and battle, as if she were a messenger from the House of the +Gods, and the Burg that endureth for ever. + +Then she fell to speech in a voice which at first was somewhat hoarse and +broken, but cleared as she went on, and she said: + +‘There sittest thou, O Alderman of Burgdale! Is Face-of-god thy son +anywhere nigh, so that he can hear me?’ + +But Iron-face wondered at her word, and said: ‘He is beside thee, as he +should be.’ For indeed Face-of-god was touching her, shoulder to +shoulder. But she looked not to the right hand nor the left, but said: + +‘Hearken, Iron-face! Chief of the House of the Face, Alderman of the +Dale, and ye also, neighbours and goodmen of the Dale: I am a woman +called the Bride, of the House of the Steer, and ye have heard that I +have plighted my troth to Face-of-god to wed with him, to love him, and +lie in his bed. But it is not so: we are not troth-plight; nor will I +wed with him, nor any other, but will wend with you to the war, and play +my part therein according to what might is in me; nor will I be worser +than the wives of Shadowy Vale.’ + +Face-of-god heard her words with no change of countenance; but Iron-face +reddened over all his face, and stared at her, and knit his brows and +said: + +‘Maiden, what are these words? What have we done to thee? Have I not +been to thee as a father, and loved thee dearly? Is not my son goodly +and manly and deft in arms? Hath it not ever been the wont of the House +of the Face to wed in the House of the Steer? and in these two Houses +there hath never yet been a goodlier man and a lovelier maiden than are +ye two. What have we done then?’ + +‘Ye have done nought against me,’ she said, ‘and all that thou sayest is +sooth; yet will I not wed with Face-of-god.’ + +Yet fiercer waxed the face of the Alderman, and he said in a loud voice: + +‘But how if I tell thee that I will speak with thy kindred of the Steer, +and thou shalt do after my bidding whether thou wilt or whether thou wilt +not?’ + +‘And how will ye compel me thereto?’ she said. ‘Are there thralls in the +Dale? Or will ye make me an outlaw? Who shall heed it? Or I shall +betake me to Shadowy Vale and become one of their warrior-maidens.’ + +Now was the Alderman’s face changing from red to white, and belike he +forgat the Thing, and what he was doing there, and he cried out: + +‘This is an evil day, and who shall help me? Thou, Face-of-god, what +hast thou to say? Wilt thou let this woman go without a word? What hath +bewitched thee?’ + +But never a word spake his son, but stood looking straight forward, cold +and calm by seeming. Then turned Iron-face again to the Bride, and said +in a softer voice: + +‘Tell me, maiden, whom I erst called daughter, what hath befallen, that +thou wilt leave my son; thou who wert once so kind and loving to him; +whose hand was always seeking his, whose eyes were ever following his; +who wouldst go where he bade, and come when he called. What hath betid +that ye have cast him out, and flee from our House?’ + +She flushed red beneath her helm and said: + +‘There is war in the land, and I have seen it coming, and that things +shall change around us. I have looked about me and seen men happy and +women content, and children weary for mere mirth and joy. And I have +thought, in a day, or two days or three, all this shall be changed, and +the women shall be, some anxious and wearied with waiting, some casting +all hope away; and the men, some shall come back to the garth no more, +and some shall come back maimed and useless, and there shall be loss of +friends and fellows, and mirth departed, and dull days and empty hours, +and the children wandering about marvelling at the sorrow of the house. +All this I saw before me, and grief and pain and wounding and death; and +I said: Shall I be any better than the worst of the folk that loveth me? +Nay, this shall never be; and since I have learned to be deft with mine +hands in all the play of war, and that I am as strong as many a man, and +as hardy-hearted as any, I will give myself to the Warrior and the God of +the Face; and the battle-field shall be my home, and the after-grief of +the fight my banquet and holiday, that I may bear the burden of my +people, in the battle and out of it; and know every sorrow that the Dale +hath; and cast aside as a grievous and ugly thing the bed of the warrior +that the maiden desires, and the toying of lips and hands and soft words +of desire, and all the joy that dwelleth in the Castle of Love and the +Garden thereof; while the world outside is sick and sorry, and the fields +lie waste and the harvest burneth. Even so have I sworn, even so will I +do.’ + +Her eyes glittered and her cheek was flushed, and her voice was clear and +ringing now; and when she ended there arose a murmur of praise from the +men round about her. But Iron-face said coldly: + +‘These are great words; but I know not what they mean. If thou wilt to +the field and fight among the carles (and that I would not naysay, for it +hath oft been done and praised aforetime), why shouldest thou not go side +by side with Face-of-god and as his plighted maiden?’ + +The light which the sweetness of speech had brought into her face had +died out of it now, and she looked weary and hapless as she answered him +slowly: + +‘I will not wed with Face-of-god, but will fare afield as a virgin of +war, as I have sworn to the Warrior.’ + +Then waxed Iron-face exceeding wroth, and he rose up before all men and +cried loudly and fiercely: + +‘There is some lie abroad, that windeth about us as the gossamers in the +lanes of an autumn morning.’ + +And therewith he strode up to Face-of-god as though he had nought to do +with the Thing; and he stood before him and cried out at him while all +men wondered: + +‘Thou! what hast thou done to turn this maiden’s heart to stone? Who is +it that is devising guile with thee to throw aside this worthy wedding in +a worthy House, with whom our sons are ever wont to wed? Speak, tell the +tale!’ + +But Face-of-god held his peace and stood calm and proud before all men. + +Then the blood mounted to Iron-face’s head, and he forgat folk and +kindred and the war to come, and he cried so that all the place rang with +the words of his anger: + +‘Thou dastard! I see thee now; it is thou that hast done this, and not +the maiden; and now thou hast made her bear a double burden, and set her +on to speak for thee, whilst thou standest by saying nought, and wilt +take no scruple’s weight of her shame upon thee!’ + +But his son spake never a word, and Iron-face cried: ‘Out on thee! I +know thee now, and why thou wouldest not to the West-land last winter. I +am no fool; I know thee. Where hast thou hidden the stranger woman?’ + +Therewith he drew forth his sword and hove it aloft as if to hew down +Face-of-god, who spake not nor flinched nor raised a hand from his side. +But the Bride threw herself in front of Gold-mane, while there arose an +angry cry of ‘The Peace of the Holy Thing! Peace-breaking, +peace-breaking!’ and some cried, ‘For the War-leader, the War-leader!’ +and as men could for the press they drew forth their swords, and there +was tumult and noise all over the Thing-stead. + +But Stone-face caught hold of the Alderman’s right arm and dragged down +the sword, and the big carle, Red-coat of Waterless, came up behind him +and cast his arms about his middle and drew him back; and presently he +looked around him, and slowly sheathed his sword, and went back to his +place and sat him down; and in a little while the noise abated and swords +were sheathed, and men waxed quiet again, and the Alderman arose and said +in a loud voice, but in the wonted way of the head man of the Thing: + +‘Here hath been trouble in the Holy Thing; a violent man hath troubled +it, and drawn sword on a neighbour; will the neighbours give the dooming +hereof into the hands of the Alderman?’ + +Now all knew Iron-face, and they cried out, ‘That will we.’ So he spake +again: + +‘I doom the troubler of the Peace of the Holy Thing to pay a fine, to wit +double the blood-wite that would be duly paid for a full-grown freeman of +the kindreds.’ + +Then the cry went up and men yeasaid his doom, and all said that it was +well and fairly doomed; and Iron-face sat still. + +But Stone-face stood forth and said: + +‘Here have been wild words in the air; and dreams have taken shape and +come amongst us, and have bewitched us, so that friends and kin have +wrangled. And meseemeth that this is through the wizardry of these +felons, who, even dead as they are, have cast spells over us. Good it +were to cast them into the Death Tarn, and then to get to our work; for +there is much to do.’ + +All men yeasaid that; and Forkbeard of Lea went with those who had borne +the corpses thither to cast them into the black pool. + +But the Fiddle spake and said: + +‘Stone-face sayeth sooth. O Alderman, thou art no young man, yet am I +old enough to be thy father; so will I give thee a rede, and say this: +Face-of-god thy son is no liar or dastard or beguiler, but he is a young +man and exceeding goodly of fashion, well-spoken and kind; so that few +women may look on him and hear him without desiring his kindness and +love, and to such men as this many things happen. Moreover, he hath now +become our captain, and is a deft warrior with his hands, and as I deem, +a sober and careful leader of men; therefore we need him and his courage +and his skill of leading. So rage not against him as if he had done an +ill deed not to be forgiven—whatever he hath done, whereof we know +not—for life is long before him, and most like we shall still have to +thank him for many good deeds towards us. As for the maiden, she is both +lovely and wise. She hath a sorrow at her heart, and we deem that we +know what it is. Yet hath she not lied when she said that she would bear +the burden of the griefs of the people. Even so shall she do; and +whether she will, or whether she will not, that shall heal her own +griefs. For to-morrow is a new day. Therefore, if thou do after my +rede, thou wilt not meddle betwixt these twain, but wilt remember all +that we have to do, and that war is coming upon us. And when that is +over, we shall turn round and behold each other, and see that we are not +wholly what we were before; and then shall that which were hard to +forgive, be forgotten, and that which is remembered be easy to forgive.’ + +So he spake; and Iron-face sat still and put his left hand to his beard +as one who pondereth; but the Bride looked in the face of the old man the +Fiddle, and then she turned and looked at Gold-mane, and her face +softened, and she stood before the Alderman, and bent down before him and +held out both her hands to him the palms upward. Then she said: ‘Thou +hast been wroth with me, and I marvel not; for thy hope, and the hope +which we all had, hath deceived thee. But kind indeed hast thou been to +me ere now: therefore I pray thee take it not amiss if I call to thy mind +the oath which thou swearedst on the Holy Boar last Yule, that thou +wouldst not gainsay the prayer of any man if thou couldest perform it; +therefore I bid thee naysay not mine: and that is, that thou wilt ask me +no more about this matter, but wilt suffer me to fare afield like any +swain of the Dale, and to deal so with my folk that they shall not hinder +me. Also I pray thee that thou wilt put no shame upon Face-of-god my +playmate and my kinsman, nor show thine anger to him openly, even if for +a little while thy love for him be abated. No more than this will I ask +of thee.’ + +All men who heard her were moved to the heart by her kindness and the +sweetness of her voice, which was like to the robin singing suddenly on a +frosty morning of early winter. But as for Gold-mane, his heart was +smitten sorely by it, and her sorrow and her friendliness grieved him out +of measure. + +But Iron-face answered after a little while, speaking slowly and +hoarsely, and with the shame yet clinging to him of a man who has been +wroth and has speedily let his wrath run off him. So he said: + +‘It is well, my daughter. I have no will to forswear myself; nor hast +thou asked me a thing which is over-hard. Yet indeed I would that to-day +were yesterday, or that many days were worn away.’ + +Then he stood up and cried in a loud voice over the throng: + +‘Let none forget the muster; but hold him ready against the time that the +Warden shall come to him. Let all men obey the War-leader, Face-of-god, +without question or delay. As to the fine of the peace-breaker, it shall +be laid on the altar of the God at the Great Folk-mote. Herewith is the +Thing broken up.’ + +Then all men shouted and clashed their weapons, and so sundered, and went +about their business. + +And the talk of men it was that the breaking of the troth-plight between +those twain was ill; for they loved Face-of-god, and as for the Bride +they deemed her the Dearest of the kindreds and the Jewel of the Folk, +and as if she were the fairest and the kindest of all the Gods. Neither +did the wrath of Iron-face mislike any; but they said he had done well +and manly both to be wroth and to let his wrath run off him. As to the +war which was to come, they kept a good heart about it, and deemed it as +a game to be played, wherein they might show themselves deft and valiant, +and so get back to their merry life again. + +So wore the day through afternoon to even and night. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. FACE-OF-GOD LEADETH A BAND THROUGH THE WOOD. + + +NEXT morning tryst was held faithfully, and an hundred and a half were +gathered together on Wildlake’s Way; and Face-of-god ordered them into +three companies. He made Hall-face leader over the first one, and bade +him hold on his way northward, and then to make for Boars-bait and see if +he should meet with anything thereabout where the battle had been. +Red-coat of Waterless he made captain of the second band; and he had it +in charge to wend eastward along the edge of the Dale, and not to go deep +into the wood, but to go as far as he might within the time appointed, +toward the Mountains. Furthermore, he bade both Hall-face and Red-coat +to bring their bands back to Wildlake’s Way by the morrow at sunset, +where other goodmen should be come to take the places of their men; and +then if he and his company were back again, he would bid them further +what to do; but if not, as seemed likely, then Hall-face’s band to go +west toward the Shepherd country half a day’s journey, and so back, and +Red-coat’s east along the Dale’s lip again for the like time, and then +back, so that there might be a constant watch and ward of the Dale kept +against the Felons. + +All being ordered Gold-mane led his own company north-east through the +thick wood, thinking that he might so fare as to come nigh to +Silver-dale, or at least to hear tidings thereof. This intent he told to +Stone-face, but the old man shook his head and said: + +‘Good is this if it may be done; but it is not for everyone to go down to +Hell in his lifetime and come back safe with a tale thereof. However, +whither thou wilt lead, thither will I follow, though assured death +waylayeth us.’ + +And the old carle was joyous and proud to be on this adventure, and said, +that it was good indeed that his foster-son had with him a man well +stricken in years, who had both seen many things, and learned many, and +had good rede to give to valiant men. + +So they went on their ways, and fared very warily when they were gotten +beyond those parts of the wood which they knew well. By this time they +were strung out in a long line; and they noted their road carefully, +blazing the trees on either side when there were trees, and piling up +little stone-heaps where the trees failed them. For Stone-face said that +oft it befell men amidst the thicket and the waste to be misled by wights +that begrudged men their lives, so that they went round and round in a +ring which they might not depart from till they died; and no man doubted +his word herein. + +All day they went, and met no foe, nay, no man at all; nought but the +wild things of the wood; and that day the wood changed little about them +from mile to mile. There were many thickets across their road which they +had to go round about; so that to the crow flying over the tree-tops the +journey had not been long to the place where night came upon them, and +where they had to make the wood their bedchamber. + +That night they lighted no fire, but ate such cold victual as they might +carry with them; nor had they shot any venison, since they had with them +more than enough; they made little noise or stir therefore and fell +asleep when they had set the watch. + +On the morrow they arose betimes, and broke their fast and went their +ways till noon: by then the wood had thinned somewhat, and there was +little underwood betwixt the scrubby oak and ash which were pretty nigh +all the trees about: the ground also was broken, and here and there +rocky, and they went into and out of rough little dales, most of which +had in them a brook of water running west and southwest; and now +Face-of-god led his men somewhat more easterly; and still for some while +they met no man. + +At last, about four hours after noon, when they were going less warily, +because they had hitherto come across nothing to hinder them, rising over +the brow of a somewhat steep ridge, they saw down in the valley below +them a half score of men sitting by the brook-side eating and drinking, +their weapons lying beside them, and along with them stood a woman with +her hands tied behind her back. + +They saw at once that these men were of the Felons, so they that had +their bows bent, loosed at them without more ado, while the others ran in +upon them with sword and spear. The felons leapt up and ran scattering +down the dale, such of them as were not smitten by the shafts; but he who +was nighest to the woman, ere he ran, turned and caught up a sword from +the ground and thrust it through her, and the next moment fell across the +brook with an arrow in his back. + +No one of the felons was nimble enough to escape from the fleet-foot +hunters of Burgdale, and they were all slain there to the number of +eleven. + +But when they came back to the woman to tend her, she breathed her last +in their hands: she was a young and fair woman, black-haired and +dark-eyed. She had on her body a gown of rich web, but nought else: she +had been bruised and sore mishandled, and the Burgdale carles wept for +pity of her, and for wrath, as they straightened her limbs on the turf of +the little valley. They let her lie there a little, whilst they searched +round about, lest there should be any other poor soul needing their help, +or any felon lurking thereby; but they found nought else save a bundle +wherein was another rich gown and divers woman’s gear, and sundry rings +and jewels, and therewithal the weapons and war-gear of a knight, +delicately wrought after the Westland fashion: these seemed to them to +betoken other foul deeds of these murder-carles. So when they had abided +a while, they laid the dead woman in mould by the brook-side, and buried +with her the other woman’s attire and the knight’s gear, all but his +sword and shield, which they had away with them: then they cast the +carcasses of the felons into the brake, but brought away their weapons +and the silver rings from their arms, which they wore like all the others +of them whom they had fallen in with; and so went on their way to the +north-east, full of wrath against those dastards of the Earth. + +It was hard on sunset when they left the valley of murder, and they went +no long way thence before they must needs make stay for the night; and +when they had arrayed their sleeping-stead the moon was up, and they saw +that before them lay the close wood again, for they had made their lair +on the top of a little ridge. + +There then they lay, and nought stirred them in the night, and betimes on +the morrow they were afoot, and entered the abovesaid thicket, wherein +two of them, keen hunters, had been aforetime, but had not gone deep into +it. Through this wood they went all day toward the north-east, and met +nought but the wild things therein. At last, when it was near sunset, +they came out of the thicket into a small plain, or shallow dale rather, +with no great trees in it, but thorn-brakes here and there where the +ground sank into hollows; a little river ran through the midst of it, and +winded round about a height whose face toward the river went down sheer +into the water, but away from it sank down in a long slope to where the +thick wood began again: and this height or burg looked well-nigh west. + +Thitherward they went; but as they were drawing nigh to the river, and +were on the top of a bent above a bushy hollow between them and the +water, they espied a man standing in the river near the bank, who saw +them not, because he was stooping down intent on something in the bank or +under it: so they gat them speedily down into the hollow without noise, +that they might get some tidings of the man. + +Then Face-of-god bade his men abide hidden under the bushes and stole +forward quietly up the further bank of the hollow, his target on his arm +and his spear poised. When he was behind the last bush on the top of the +bent he was within half a spear-cast of the water and the man; so he +looked on him and saw that he was quite naked except for a clout about +his middle. + +Face-of-god saw at once that he was not one of the Dusky Men; he was a +black-haired man, but white-skinned, and of fair stature, though not so +tall as the Burgdale folk. He was busied in tickling trouts, and just as +Face-of-god came out from the bush into the westering sunlight, he threw +up a fish on to the bank, and looked up therewithal, and beheld the +weaponed man glittering, and uttered a cry, but fled not when he saw the +spear poised for casting. + +Then Face-of-god spake to him and said: ‘Come hither, Woodsman! we will +not harm thee, but we desire speech of thee: and it will not avail thee +to flee, since I have bowmen of the best in the hollow yonder.’ + +The man put forth his hands towards him as if praying him to forbear +casting, and looked at him hard, and then came dripping from out the +water, and seemed not greatly afeard; for he stooped down and picked up +the trouts he had taken, and came towards Face-of-god stringing the +last-caught one through the gills on to the withy whereon were the +others: and Face-of-god saw that he was a goodly man of some thirty +winters. + +Then Face-of-god looked on him with friendly eyes and said: + +‘Art thou a foemen? or wilt thou be helpful to us?’ + +He answered in the speech of the kindreds with the hoarse voice of a much +weather-beaten man: + +‘Thou seest, lord, that I am naked and unarmed.’ + +‘Yet may’st thou bewray us,’ said Face-of-god. ‘What man art thou?’ + +Said the man: ‘I am the runaway thrall of evil men; I have fled from +Rose-dale and the Dusky Men. Hast thou the heart to hurt me?’ + +‘We are the foemen of the Dusky Men,’ said Face-of-God; ‘wilt thou help +us against them?’ + +The man knit his brows and said: ‘Yea, if ye will give me your word not +to suffer me to fall into their hands alive. But whence art thou, to be +so bold?’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘We are of Burgdale; and I will swear to thee on the +edge of the sword that thou shalt not fall alive into the hands of the +Dusky Men.’ + +‘Of Burgdale have I heard,’ said the man; ‘and in sooth thou seemest not +such a man as would bewray a hapless man. But now had I best bring you +to some lurking-place where ye shall not be easily found of these devils, +who now oft-times scour the woods hereabout.’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Come first and see my fellows; and then if thou +thinkest we have need to hide, it is well.’ + +So the man went side by side with him towards their lair, and as they +went Gold-mane noted marks of stripes on his back and sides, and said: +‘Sorely hast thou been mishandled, poor man!’ + +Then the man turned on him and said somewhat fiercely: ‘Said I not that I +had been a thrall of the Dusky Men? how then should I have escaped +tormenting and scourging, if I had been with them for but three days?’ + +As he spake they came about a thorn-bush, and there were the Burgdale men +down in the hollow; and the man said: ‘Are these thy fellows? Call to +mind that thou hast sworn by the edge of the sword not to hurt me.’ + +‘Poor man!’ said Face-of-god; ‘these are thy friends, unless thou +bewrayest us.’ + +Then he cried aloud to his folk: ‘Here is now a good hap! this is a +runaway thrall of the Dusky Men; of him shall we hear tidings; so cherish +him all ye may.’ + +So the carles thronged about him and bestirred themselves to help him, +and one gave him his surcoat for a kirtle, and another cast a cloak about +him; and they brought him meat and drink, such as they had ready to hand: +and the man looked as if he scarce believed in all this, but deemed +himself to be in a dream. But presently he turned to Face-of-god and +said: + +‘Now I see so many men and weapons I deem that ye have no need to skulk +in caves to-night, though I know of good ones: yet shall ye do well not +to light a fire till moon-setting; for the flame ye may lightly hide, but +the smoke may be seen from far aloof.’ + +But they bade him to meat, and he needed no second bidding but ate +lustily, and they gave him wine, and he drank a great draught and sighed +as for joy. Then he said in a trembling voice, as though he feared a +naysay: + +‘If ye are from Burgdale ye shall be faring back again presently; and I +pray you to take me with you.’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Yea surely, friend, that will we do, and rejoice in +thee.’ + +Then he drank another cup which Warcliff held out to him, and spake +again: ‘Yet if ye would abide here till about noon to-morrow, or +mayhappen a little later, I would bring other runaways to see you; and +them also might ye take with you: ye may think when ye see them that ye +shall have small gain of their company; for poor wretched folk they be, +like to myself. Yet since ye seek for tidings, herein might they do you +more service than I; for amongst them are some who came out of the +hapless Dale within this moon; and it is six months since I escaped. +Moreover, though they may look spent and outworn now, yet if ye give them +a little rest, and feed them well, they shall yet do many a day’s work +for you: and I tell you that if ye take them for thralls, and put collars +on their necks, and use them no worse than a goodman useth his oxen and +his asses, beating them not save when they are idle or at fault, it shall +be to them as if they were come to heaven out of hell, and to such +goodhap as they have not thought of, save in dreams, for many and many a +day. And thus I entreat you to do because ye seem to me to be happy and +merciful men, who will not begrudge us this happiness.’ + +The carles of Burgdale listened eagerly to what he said, and they looked +at him with great eyes and marvelled; and their hearts were moved with +pity towards him; and Stone-face said: + +‘Herein, O War-leader, need I give thee no rede, for thou mayst see +clearly that all we deem that we should lose our manhood and become the +dastards of the Warrior if we did not abide the coming of these poor men, +and take them back to the Dale, and cherish them.’ + +‘Yea,’ said Wolf of Whitegarth, ‘and great thanks we owe to this man that +he biddeth us this: for great will be the gain to us if we become so like +the Gods that we may deliver the poor from misery. Now must I needs +think how they shall wonder when they come to Burgdale and find out how +happy it is to dwell there.’ + +‘Surely,’ said Face-of-god, ‘thus shall we do, whatever cometh of it. +But, friend of the wood, as to thralls, there be none such in the Dale, +but therein are all men friends and neighbours, and even so shall ye be.’ + +And he fell a-musing, when he bethought him of how little he had known of +sorrow. + +But that man, when he beheld the happy faces of the Burgdalers, and +hearkened to their friendly voices, and understood what they said, and he +also was become strong with the meat and drink, he bowed his head adown +and wept a long while; and they meddled not with him, till he turned +again to them and said: + +‘Since ye are in arms, and seem to be seeking your foemen, I suppose ye +wot that these tyrants and man-quellers will fall upon you in Burgdale +ere the summer is well worn.’ + +‘So much we deem indeed,’ said Face-of-god, ‘but we were fain to hear the +certainty of it, and how thou knowest thereof.’ + +Said the man: ‘It was six moons ago that I fled, as I have told you; and +even then it was the common talk amongst our masters that there were fair +dales to the south which they would overrun. Man would say to man: We +were over many in Silver-dale, and we needed more thralls, because those +we had were lessening, and especially the women; now are we more at ease +in Rose-dale, though we have sent thralls to Silver-dale; but yet we can +bear no more men from thence to eat up our stock from us: let them fare +south to the happy dales, and conquer them, and we will go with them and +help therein, whether we come back to Rose-dale or no. Such talk did I +hear then with mine own ears: but some of those whom I shall bring to you +to-morrow shall know better what is doing, since they have fled from +Rose-dale but a few days. Moreover, there is a man and a woman who have +fled from Silver-dale itself, and are but a month from it, journeying all +the time save when they must needs hide; and these say that their masters +have got to know the way to Burgdale, and are minded for it before the +winter, as I said; and nought else but the ways thither do they desire to +know, since they have no fear.’ + +By then was night come, and though the moon was high in heaven, and +lighted all that waste, the Burgdalers must needs light a fire for +cooking their meat, whatsoever that woodsman might say; moreover, the +night was cold and somewhat frosty. A little before they had come to +that place they had shot a fat buck and some smaller deer, but of other +meat they had no great store, though there was wine enough. So they lit +their fire in the thickest of the thorn-bush to hide it all they might, +and thereat they cooked their venison and the trouts which the runaway +had taken, and they fell to, and ate and drank and were merry, making +much of that poor man till him-seemed he was gotten into the company of +the kindest of the Gods. + +But when they were full, Face-of-god spake to him, and asked him his +name; and he named himself Dallach; but said he: ‘Lord, this is according +to the naming of men in Rose-dale before we were enthralled: but now what +names have thralls? Also I am not altogether of the blood of them of +Rose-dale, but of better and more warrior-like kin.’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Thou hast named Silver-dale; knowest thou it?’ + +Dallach answered: ‘I have never seen it. It is far hence; in a week’s +journey, making all diligence, and not being forced to hide and skulk +like those runaways, ye shall come to the mouth thereof lying west, where +its rock-walls fall off toward the plain.’ + +‘But,’ said Face-of-god, ‘is there no other way into that Dale?’ + +‘Nay, none that folk wot of,’ said Dallach, ‘except to bold cragsmen with +their lives in their hands.’ + +‘Knowest thou aught of the affairs of Silver-dale?’ said Face-of-god. + +Said Dallach: ‘Somewhat I know: we wot that but a few years ago there was +a valiant folk dwelling therein, who were lords of the whole dale, and +that they were vanquished by the Dusky Men: but whether they were all +slain and enthralled we wot not; but we deem it otherwise. As for me it +is of their blood that I am partly come; for my father’s father came +thence to settle in Rose-dale, and wedded a woman of the Dale, who was my +father’s mother.’ + +‘When was it that ye fell under the Dusky Men?’ said Face-of-god. + +Said Dallach: ‘It was five years ago. They came into the Dale a great +company, all in arms.’ + +‘Was there battle betwixt you?’ said Face-of-god. + +‘Alas! not so,’ said Dallach. ‘We were a happy folk there; but soft and +delicate: for the Dale is exceeding fertile, and beareth wealth in +abundance, both corn and oil and wine and fruit, and of beasts for man’s +service the best that may be. Would that there had been battle, and that +I had died therein with those that had a heart to fight; and even so +saith now every man, yea, every woman in the Dale. But it was not so +when the elders met in our Council-House on the day when the Dusky Men +bade us pay them tribute and give them houses to dwell in and lands to +live by. Then had we weapons in our hands, but no hearts to use them.’ + +‘What befell then?’ said the goodman of Whitegarth. + +Said Dallach: ‘Look ye to it, lords, that it befall not in Burgdale! We +gave them all they asked for, and deemed we had much left. What befell, +sayst thou? We sat quiet; we went about our work in fear and trembling, +for grim and hideous were they to look on. At first they meddled not +much with us, save to take from our houses what they would of meat and +drink, or raiment, or plenishing. And all this we deemed we might bear, +and that we needed no more than to toil a little more each day so as to +win somewhat more of wealth. But soon we found that it would not be so; +for they had no mind to till the teeming earth or work in the acres we +had given them, or to sit at the loom, or hammer in the stithy, or do any +manlike work; it was we that must do all that for their behoof, and it +was altogether for them that we laboured, and nought for ourselves; and +our bodies were only so much our own as they were needful to be kept +alive for labour. Herein were our tasks harder than the toil of any +mules or asses, save for the younger and goodlier of the women, whom they +would keep fair and delicate to be their bed-thralls. + +‘Yet not even so were our bodies safe from their malice: for these men +were not only tyrants, but fools and madmen. Let alone that there were +few days without stripes and torments to satiate their fury or their +pleasure, so that in all streets and nigh any house might you hear +wailing and screaming and groaning; but moreover, though a wise man would +not willingly slay his own thrall any more than his own horse or ox, yet +did these men so wax in folly and malice, that they would often hew at +man or woman as they met them in the way from mere grimness of soul; and +if they slew them it was well. Thereof indeed came quarrels enough +betwixt master and master, for they are much given to man-slaying amongst +themselves: but what profit to us thereof? Nay, if the dead man were a +chieftain, then woe betide the thralls! for thereof must many an one be +slain on his grave-mound to serve him on the hell-road. To be short: we +have heard of men who be fierce, and men who be grim; but these we may +scarce believe us to be men at all, but trolls rather; and ill will it be +if their race waxeth in the world.’ + +The Burgdale men hearkened with all their ears, and wondered that such +things could befall; and they rejoiced at the work that lay before them, +and their hearts rose high at the thought of battle in that behalf, and +the fame that should come of it. As for the runaway, they made so much +of him that the man marvelled; for they dealt with him like a woman +cherishing a son, and knew not how to be kind enough to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. THE MEN OF BURGDALE MEET THE RUNAWAYS. + + +NOW ere the night was far spent, Dallach arose and said: + +‘Kind folk, ye will presently be sleeping; but I bid you keep a good +watch, and if ye will be ruled by me, ye will kindle no fire on the +morrow, for the smoke riseth thick in the morning air, and is as a +beacon. As for me, I shall leave you here to rest, and I myself will +fare on mine errand.’ + +They bade him sleep and rest him after so many toils and hardships, +saying that they were not tied to an hour to be back in Burgdale; but he +said: ‘Nay, the moon is high, and it is as good as daylight to me, who +could find my way even by starlight; and your tarrying here is nowise +safe. Moreover, if I could find those folk and bring them part of the +way by night and cloud it were well; for if we were taken again, burning +quick would be the best death by which we should die. As for me, now am +I strong with meat and drink and hope; and when I come to Burgdale there +will be time enough for resting and slumber.’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Shall I not wend with thee to see these people and the +lairs wherein they hide?’ + +The man smiled: ‘Nay, earl,’ said he, ‘that shall not be. For wot ye +what? If they were to see me in company of a man-at-arms they would deem +that I was bringing the foe upon them, and would flee, or mayhappen would +fall upon us. For as for me, when I saw thee, thou wert close anigh me, +so I knew thee to be no Dusky Man; but they would see the glitter of +thine arms from afar, and to them all weaponed men are foemen. Thou, +lord, knowest not the heart of a thrall, nor the fear and doubt that is +in it. Nay, I myself must cast off these clothes that ye have given me, +and fare naked, lest they mistrust me. Only I will take a spear in my +hand, and sling a knife round my neck, if ye will give them to me; for if +the worst happen, I will not be taken alive.’ + +Therewith he cast off his raiment, and they gave him the weapons and +wished him good speed, and he went his way twixt moonlight and shadow; +but the Burgdalers went to sleep when they had set a watch. + +Early in the morning they awoke, and the sun was shining and the thrushes +singing in the thorn-brake, and all seemed fair and peaceful, and a +little haze still hung about the face of the burg over the river. So +they went down to the water and washed the night from off them; and +thence the most part of them went back to their lair among the +thorn-bushes: but four of them went up the dale into the oak-wood to +shoot a buck, and five more they sent out to watch their skirts around +them; and Face-of-god with old Stone-face went over a ford of the stream, +and came on to the lower slope of the burg, and so went up it to the top. +Thence they looked about to see if aught were stirring, but they saw +little save the waste and the wood, which on the north-east was thick of +big trees stretching out a long way. Their own lair was clear to see +over its bank and the bushes thereof, and that misliked Face-of-god, lest +any foe should climb the burg that day. The morning was clear, and +Face-of-god looking north-and-by-west deemed he saw smoke rising into the +air over the tree-covered ridges that hid the further distance toward +that aírt, though further east uphove the black shoulders of the Great +that Waste and the snowy peaks behind them. The said smoke was not such +as cometh from one great fire, but was like a thin veil staining the pale +blue sky, as when men are burning ling on the heath-side and it is seen +aloof. + +He showed that smoke to Stone-face, who smiled and said: + +‘Now will they be lighting the cooking fires in Rose-dale: would I were +there with a few hundreds of axes and staves at my back!’ + +‘Yea,’ said Face-of-god, smiling in his face, ‘but where I pray thee are +these elves and wood-wights, that we meet them not? Grim things there +are in the woods, and things fair enough also: but meseemeth that the +trolls and the elves of thy young years have been frighted away.’ + +Said Stone-face: ‘Maybe, foster-son; that hath been seen ere now, that +when one race of man overrunneth the land inhabited by another, the +wights and elves that love the vanquished are seen no more, or get them +away far off into the outermost wilds, where few men ever come.’ + +‘Yea,’ said Face-of-god, ‘that may well be. But deemest thou by that +token that we shall be vanquished?’ + +‘As for us, I know not,’ said Stone-face; ‘but thy friends of Shadowy +Vale have been vanquished. Moreover, concerning these felons whom now we +are hunting, are we all so sure that they be men? Certain it is, that +when I go into battle with them, I shall smite with no more pity than my +sword, as if I were smiting things that may not feel the woes of man.’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Yea, even so shall it be with me. But what thinkest +thou of these runaways? Shall we have tidings of them, or shall Dallach +bring the foe upon us? It was for the sake of that question that I have +clomb the burg: and that we might watch the land about us.’ + +‘Nay,’ said Stone-face, ‘I have seen many men, and I deem of Dallach that +he is a true man. I deem we shall soon have tidings of his fellows; and +they may have seen the elves and wood-wights: I would fain ask them +thereof, and am eager to see them.’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘And I somewhat dread to see them, and their rags and +their misery and the weals of their stripes. It irked me to see Dallach +when he first fell to his meat last night, how he ate like a dog for fear +and famine. How shall it be, moreover, when we have them in the Dale, +and they fall to the deed of kind there, as they needs must. Will they +not bear us evil and thrall-like men?’ + +‘Maybe,’ said Stone-face, ‘and maybe not; for they have been thralls but +for a little while: and I deem that in no long time shall ye see them +much bettered by plenteous meat and rest. And after all is said, this +Dallach bore him like a valiant man; also it was valiant of him to flee; +and of the others may ye say the like. But look you! there are men going +down yonder towards our lair: belike those shall be our guests, and there +be no Dusky Men amongst them. Come, let us home!’ + +So Face-of-god looked and beheld from the height of the burg shapes of +men grey and colourless creeping toward the lair from sunshine to shadow, +like wild creatures shy and fearful of the hunter, or so he deemed of +them. + +So he turned away, angry and sad of heart, and the twain went down the +burg and across the water to their camp, having seen little to tell of +from the height. + +When they came to their campment there were their folk standing in a ring +round about Dallach and the other runaways. They made way for the +War-leader and Stone-face, who came amongst them and beheld the Runaways, +that they were many more than they looked to see; for they were of carles +one score and three, and of women eighteen, all told save Dallach. When +they saw those twain come through the ring of men and perceived that they +were chieftains, some of them fell down on their knees before them and +held out their joined hands to them, and kissed the Burgdalers’ feet and +the hems of their garments, while the tears streamed out of their eyes: +some stood moving little and staring before them stupidly: and some kept +glancing from face to face of the well-liking happy Burgdale carles, +though for a while even their faces were sad and downcast at the sight of +the poor men: some also kept murmuring one or two words in their country +tongue, and Dallach told Face-of-god that these were crying out for +victual. + +It must be said of these poor folk that they were of divers conditions, +and chiefly of three: and first there were seven of Rose-dale and five of +Silver-dale late come to the wood (of these Silver-dalers Dallach had +told but of two, for the other three were but just come). Of these +twelve were seven women, and all, save two of the women, were clad in one +scanty kirtle or shirt only; for such was the wont of the Dusky Men with +their thralls. They had brought away weapons, and had amongst them six +axes and a spear, and a sword, and five knives, and one man had a shield. + +Yet though these were clad and armed, yet in some wise were they the +worst of all; they were so timorous and cringing, and most of them +heavy-eyed and sullen and down-looking. Many of them had been grievously +mishandled: one man had had his left hand smitten off; another was docked +of three of his toes, and the gristle of his nose slit up; one was halt, +and four had been ear-cropped, nor did any lack weals of whipping. Of +the Silver-dale new-comers the three men were the worst of all the +Runaways, with wild wandering eyes, but sullen also, and cringing if any +drew nigh, and would not look anyone in the face, save presently +Face-of-god, on whom they were soon fond to fawn, as a dog on his master. +But the women who were with them, and who were well-nigh as timorous as +the men, were those two gaily-dad ones, and they were soft-handed and +white-skinned, save for the last days of weather in the wood; for they +had been bed-thralls of the Dusky Men. + +Such were the new-comers to the wood. But others had been, like Dallach, +months therein; it may be said that there were eighteen of these, carles +and queens together. Little raiment they had amongst them, and some were +all but stark naked, so that on these might well be seen as on Dallach +the marks of old stripes, and of these also were there men who had been +shorn of some member or other, and they were all burnt and blackened by +the weather of the woodland; yet for all their nakedness, they bore +themselves bolder and more manlike than the later comers, nor did they +altogether lack weapons taken from their foemen, and most of them had +some edge-tool or another. Of these folk were four from Silver-dale, +though Dallach knew it not. + +Besides these were a half score and one who had been years in the wood +instead of months; weather-beaten indeed were these, shaggy and +rough-skinned like wild men of kind. Some of them had made themselves +skin breeches or clouts, some went stark naked; of weapons of the Dale +had they few, but they bore bows of hazel or wych-elm strung with +deer-gut, and shafts headed with flint stones; staves also of the same +fashion, and great clubs of oak or holly: some of them also had made them +targets of skin and willow-twigs, for these were the warriors of the +Runaways: they had a few steel knives amongst them, but had mostly +learned the craft of using sharp flints for knives: but four of these +were women. + +Three of these men were of the kindreds of the Wolf from Silver-dale, and +had been in the wood for hard upon ten years, and wild as they were, and +without hope of meeting their fellows again, they went proudly and boldly +amongst the others, overtopping them by the head and more. For the +greater part of these men were somewhat short of stature, though by +nature strong and stout of body. + +It must be told that though Dallach had thus gotten all these many +Runaways together, yet had they not been dwelling together as one folk; +for they durst not, lest the Dusky Men should hear thereof and fall upon +them, but they had kept themselves as best they could in caves and in +brakes three together or two, or even faring alone as Dallach did: only +as he was a strong and stout-hearted man, he went to and fro and wandered +about more than the others, so that he foregathered with most of them and +knew them. He said also that he doubted not but that there were more +Runaways in the wood, but these were all he could come at. Divers who +had fled had died from time to time, and some had been caught and cruelly +slain by their masters. They were none of them old; the oldest, said +Dallach, scant of forty winters, though many from their aspect might have +been old enough. + +So Face-of-god looked and beheld all these poor people; and said to +himself, that he might well have dreaded that sight. For here was he +brought face to face with the Sorrow of the Earth, whereof he had known +nought heretofore, save it might be as a tale in a minstrel’s song. And +when he thought of the minutes that had made the hours, and the hours +that had made the days that these men had passed through, his heart +failed him, and he was dumb and might not speak, though he perceived that +the men of Burgdale looked for speech from him; but he waved his hand to +his folk, and they understood him, for they had heard Dallach say that +some of them were crying for victual. So they set to work and dighted +for them such meat as they had, and they set them down on the grass and +made themselves their carvers and serving-men, and bade them eat what +they would of such as there was. Yet, indeed, it grieved the Burgdalers +again to note how these folk were driven to eat; for they themselves, +though they were merry folk, were exceeding courteous at table, and of +great observance of manners: whereas these poor Runaways ate, some of +them like hungry dogs, and some hiding their meat as if they feared it +should be taken from them, and some cowering over it like falcons, and +scarce any with a manlike pleasure in their meal. And, their eating +over, the more part of them sat dull and mopish, and as if all things +were forgotten for the time present. + +Albeit presently Dallach bestirred him and said to Face-of-god: ‘Lord of +the Earl-folk, if I might give thee rede, it were best to turn your faces +to Burgdale without more tarrying. For we are over-nigh to Rose-dale, +being but thus many in company. But when we come to our next +resting-place, then shall bring thee to speech with the last-comers from +Silver-dale; for there they talk with the tongue of the kindreds; but we +of Rose-dale for the more part talk otherwise; though in my house it came +down from father to son.’ + +‘Yea,’ said Face-of-god, gazing still on that unhappy folk, as they sat +or lay upon the grass at rest for a little while: but him-seemed as he +gazed that some memories of past time stirred in some of them; for some, +they hung their heads and the tears stole out of their eyes and rolled +down their cheeks. But those older Runaways of Silver-dale were not +crouched down like most of the others, but strode up and down like beasts +in a den; yet were the tears on the face of one of these. Then +Face-of-god constrained himself, and spake to the folk, and said: ‘We are +now over-nigh to our foes of Rose-dale to lie here any longer, being too +few to fall upon them. We will come hither again with a host when we +have duly questioned these men who have sought refuge with us: and let us +call yonder height the Burg of the Runaways, and it shall be a landmark +for us when we are on the road to Rose-dale.’ + +Then the Burgdalers bade the Runaways courteously and kindly to arise and +take the road with them; and by that time were their men all come in; and +four of them had venison with them, which was needful, if they were to +eat that night or the morrow, as the guests had eaten them to the bone. + +So they tarried no more, but set out on the homeward way; and Face-of-god +bade Dallach walk beside him, and asked him such concerning Rose-dale and +its Dusky Men. Dallach told him that these were not so many as they were +masterful, not being above eight hundreds of men, all fighting-men. As +to women, they had none of their own race, but lay with the Daleswomen at +their will, and begat children of them; and all or most of the said +children favoured the race of their begetters. Of the men-children they +reared most, but the women-children they slew at once; for they valued +not women of their own blood: but besides the women of the Dale, they +would go at whiles in bands to the edges of the Plain and beguile +wayfarers, and bring back with them thence women to be their bed-thralls; +albeit some of these were bought with a price from the Westland men. + +As to the number of the folk of Rose-dale, its own folk, he said they +would number some five thousand souls, one with another; of whom some +thousand might be fit to bear arms if they had the heart thereto, as they +had none. Yet being closely questioned, he deemed that they might fall +on their masters from behind, if battle were joined. + +He said that the folk of Rose-dale had been a goodly folk before they +were enthralled, and peaceable with one another, but that now it was a +sport of the Dusky Men to set a match between their thralls to fight it +out with sword and buckler or otherwise; and the vanquished man, if he +were not sore hurt, they would scourge, or shear some member from him, or +even slay him outright, if the match between the owners were so made. +And many other sad and grievous tales he told to Face-of-god, more than +need be told again; so that the War-leader went along sorry and angry, +with his teeth set, and his hand on the sword-hilt. + +Thus they went till night fell on them, and they could scarce see the +signs they had made on their outward journey. Then they made stay in a +little valley, having set a watch duly; and since they were by this time +far from Rose-dale, and were a great company as regarded scattered bands +of the foe, they lighted their fires and cooked their venison, and made +good cheer to the Runaways, and so went to sleep in the wild-wood. + +When morning was come they gat them at once to the road; and if the +Burgdalers were eager to be out of the wood, their eagerness was as +nought to the eagerness of the Runaways, most of whom could not be easy +now, and deemed every minute lost unless they were wending on to the +Dale; so that this day they were willing to get over the more ground, +whereas they had not set out on their road till afternoon yesterday. + +Howsoever, they rested at noontide, and Face-of-god bade Dallach bring +him to speech with others of the Runaways, and first that he might talk +with those three men of the kindreds who had fled from Silver-dale in +early days. So Dallach brought them to him; but he found that though +they spake the tongue, they were so few-spoken from wildness and +loneliness, at least at first, that nought could come from them that was +not dragged from them. + +These men said that they had been in the wood more than nine years, so +that they knew but little of the conditions of the Dale in that present +day. However, as to what Dallach had said concerning the Dusky Men, they +strengthened his words; and they said that the Dusky Men took no delight +save in beholding torments and misery, and that they doubted if they were +men or trolls. They said that since they had dwelt in the wood they had +slain not a few of the foemen, waylaying them as occasion served, but +that in this warfare they had lost two of their fellows. When +Face-of-god asked them of their deeming of the numbers of the Dusky Men, +they said that before those bands had broken into Rose-dale, they counted +them, as far as they could call to mind, at about three thousand men, all +warriors; and that somewhat less than one thousand had gone up into +Rose-dale, and some had died, and many had been cast away in the +wild-wood, their fellows knew not how. Yet had not their numbers in +Silver-dale diminished; because two years after they (the speakers) had +fled, came three more Dusky Companies or Tribes into Silver-dale, and +each of these tribes was of three long hundreds; and with their coming +had the cruelty and misery much increased in the Dale, so that the +thralls began to die fast; and that drave the Dusky Men beyond the +borders of Silver-dale, so that they fell upon Rose-dale. When asked how +many of the kindreds might yet be abiding in Silver-dale, their faces +clouded, and they seemed exceeding wroth, and answered, that they would +willingly hope that most of those that had not been slain at the time of +the overthrow were now dead, yet indeed they feared there were yet some +alive, and mayhappen not a few women. + +By then must they get on foot again, and so the talk fell between them; +but when they made stay for the night, after they had done their meat, +Face-of-god prayed Dallach bring to him some of the latest-come folk from +Silver-dale, and he brought to him the man and the woman who had been in +the Dale within that moon. As to the man, if those of the Earl-folk had +been few-spoken from fierceness and wildness, he was no less so from mere +dulness and weariness of misery; but the woman’s tongue went glibly +enough, and it seemed to pleasure her to talk about her past miseries. +As aforesaid, she was better clad than most of those of Rose-dale, and +indeed might be called gaily clad, and where her raiment was befouled or +rent, it was from the roughness of the wood and its weather, and not from +the thralldom. She was a young and fair woman, black-haired and +grey-eyed. She had washed herself that day in a woodland stream which +they had crossed on the road, and had arrayed her garments as trimly as +she might, and had plucked some fumitory, wherewith she had made a +garland for her head. She sat down on the grass in front of Face-of-god, +while the man her mate stood leaning against a tree and looked on her +greedily. The Burgdale carles drew near to her to hearken her story, and +looked kindly on the twain. She smiled on them, but especially on +Face-of-god, and said: + +‘Thou hast sent for me, lord, and I wot well thou wouldst hear my tale +shortly, for it would be long to tell if I were to tell it fully, and +bring into it all that I have endured, which has been bitter enough, for +all that ye see me smooth of skin and well-liking of body. I have been +the bed-thrall of one of the chieftains of the Dusky Men, at whose house +many of their great men would assemble, so that ye may ask me whatso ye +will; as I have heard much talk and may call it to mind. Now if ye ask +me whether I have fled because of the shame that I, a free woman come of +free folk, should be a mere thrall in the bed of the foes of my kin, and +with no price paid for me, I must needs say it is not so; since over long +have we of the Dale been thralls to be ashamed of such a matter. And +again, if ye deem that I have fled because I have been burdened with +grievous toil and been driven thereto by the whip, ye may look on my +hands and my body and ye will see that I have toiled little therewith: +nor again did I flee because I could not endure a few stripes now and +again; for such usage do thralls look for, even when they are delicately +kept for the sake of the fairness of their bodies, and this they may well +endure; yea also, and the mere fear of death by torment now and again. +But before me lay death both assured and horrible; so I took mine own +counsel, and told none for fear of bewrayal, save him who guarded me; and +that was this man; who fled not from fear, but from love of me, and to +him I have given all that I might give. So we got out of the house and +down the Dale by night and cloud, and hid for one whole day in the Dale +itself, where I trembled and feared, so that I deemed I should die of +fear; but this man was well pleased with my company, and with the lack of +toil and beating even for the day. And in the night again we fled and +reached the wild-wood before dawn, and well-nigh fell into the hands of +those who were hunting us, and had outgone us the day before, as we lay +hid. Well, what is to say? They saw us not, else had we not been here, +but scattered piece-meal over the land. This carle knew the passes of +the wood, because he had followed his master therein, who was a great +hunter in the wastes, contrary to the wont of these men, and he had lain +a night on the burg yonder; therefore he brought me thither, because he +knew that thereabout was plenty of prey easy to take, and he had a bow +with him; and there we fell in with others of our folk who had fled +before, and with Dallach; who e’en now told us what was hard to believe, +that there was a fair young man like one of the Gods leading a band of +goodly warriors, and seeking for us to bring us into a peaceful and happy +land; and this man would not have gone with him because he feared that he +might fall into thralldom of other folk, who would take me away from him; +but for me, I said I would go in any case, for I was weary of the wood +and its roughness and toil, and that if I had a new master he would +scarcely be worse than my old one was at his best, and him I could +endure. So I went, and glad and glad I am, whatever ye will do with me. +And now will I answer whatso ye may ask of me.’ + +She laid her limbs together daintily and looked fondly on Face-of-god, +and the carle scowled at her somewhat at first, but presently, as he +watched her, his face smoothed itself out of its wrinkles. + +But Face-of-god pondered a little while, and then asked the woman if she +had heard any words to remember of late days concerning the affairs of +the Dusky Men and their intent; and he said: + +‘I pray thee, sister, be truthful in thine answer, for somewhat lieth on +it.’ + +She said: ‘How could I speak aught but the sooth to thee, O lovely lord? +The last word spoken hereof I mind me well: for my master had been +mishandling me, and I was sullen to him after the smart, and he mocked +and jeered me, and said: Ye women deem we cannot do without you, but ye +are fools, and know nothing; we are going to conquer a new land where the +women are plenty, and far fairer than ye be; and we shall leave you to +fare afield like the other thralls, or work in the digging of silver; and +belike ye wot what that meaneth. Also he said that they would leave us +to the new tribe of their folk, far wilder than they, whom they looked +for in the Dale in about a moon’s wearing; so that they needs must seek +to other lands. Also this same talk would we hear whenever it pleased +any of them to mock us their bed-thralls. Now, my sweet lord, this is +nought but the very sooth.’ + +Again spake Face-of-god after a while: + +‘Tell me, sister, hast thou heard of any of the Dusky Men being slain in +the wood?’ + +‘Yea,’ she said, and turned pale therewith and caught her breath as one +choking; but said in a little while: + +‘This alone was it hard for me to tell thee amongst all the I griefs I +have borne, whereof I might have told thee many tales, and will do one +day if thou wilt suffer it; but fear makes this hard for me. For in very +sooth this was the cause of my fleeing, that my master was brought in +slain by an arrow in the wood; and he was to be borne to bale and burned +in three days’ wearing; and we three bed-thralls of his, and three of the +best of the men-thralls, were to be burned quick on his bale-fire after +sore torments; therefore I fled, and hid a knife in my bosom, that I +might not be taken alive; but sweet was life to me, and belike I should +not have smitten myself.’ + +And she wept sore for pity of herself before them all. But Face-of-god +said: + +‘Knowest thou, sister, by whom the man was slain?’ + +‘Nay,’ she said, still sobbing; ‘but I heard nought thereof, nor had I +noted it in my terror. The death of others, who were slain before him, +and the loss of many, we knew not how, made them more bitterly cruel with +us.’ + +And again was she weeping; but Face-of-god said kindly to her: ‘Weep no +more, sister, for now shall all thy troubles be over; I feel in my heart +that we shall overcome these felons, and make an end of them, and there +then is Burgdale for thee in its length and breadth, or thine own Dale to +dwell in freely.’ + +‘Nay,’ she said, ‘never will I go back thither!’ and she turned round to +him and kissed his feet, and then arose and turned a little toward her +mate; and the carle caught her by the hand and led her away, and seemed +glad so to do. + +So once again they fell asleep in the woods, and again the next morning +fared on their way early that they might come into Burgdale before +nightfall. When they stayed a while at noontide and ate, Face-of-god +again had talk with the Runaways, and this time with those of Rose-dale, +and he heard much the same story from them that he had heard before, told +in divers ways, till his heart was sick with the hearing of it. + +On this last day Face-of-god led his men well athwart the wood, so that +he hit Wildlake’s Way without coming to Carl-stead; and he came down into +the Dale some four hours after noon on a bright day of latter March. At +the ingate to the Dale he found watches set, the men whereof told him +that the tidings were not right great. Hall-face’s company had fallen in +with a band of the Felons three score in number in the oak-wood nigh to +Boars-bait, and had slain some and chased the rest, since they found it +hard to follow them home as they ran for the tangled thicket: of the +Burgdalers had two been slain and five hurt in this battle. + +As for Red-coat’s company, they had fallen in with no foemen. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. THEY BRING THE RUNAWAYS TO BURGSTEAD. + + +SO now being out of the wood, they went peaceably and safely along the +Portway, the Runaways mingling with the Dalesmen. Strange showed amidst +the health and wealth of the Dale the rags and misery and nakedness of +the thralls, like a dream amidst the trim gaiety of spring; and +whomsoever they met, or came up with on the road, whatso his business +might be, could not refrain himself from following them, but mingled with +the men-at-arms, and asked them of the tidings; and when they heard who +these poor people were, even delivered thralls of the Foemen, they were +glad at heart and cried out for joy; and many of the women, nay, of the +men also, when they first came across that misery from out the heart of +their own pleasant life, wept for pity and love of the poor folk, now at +last set free, and blessed the swords that should do the like by the +whole people. + +They went slowly as men began to gather about them; yea, some of the good +folk that lived hard by must needs fare home to their houses to fetch +cakes and wine for the guests; and they made them sit down and rest on +the green grass by the side of the Portway, and eat and drink to cheer +their hearts; others, women and young swains, while they rested went down +into the meadows and plucked of the spring flowers, and twined them +hastily with deft and well-wont fingers into chaplets and garlands for +their heads and bodies. Thus indeed they covered their nakedness, till +the lowering faces and weather-beaten skins of those hardly-entreated +thralls looked grimly out from amidst the knots of cowslip and oxlip, and +the branches of the milk-white blackthorn bloom, and the long trumpets of +the daffodils, of the hue that wrappeth round the quill which the webster +takes in hand when she would pleasure her soul with the sight of the +yellow growing upon the dark green web. + +So they went on again as the evening was waning, and when they were +gotten within a furlong of the Gate, lo! there was come the minstrelsy, +the pipe and the tabor, the fiddle and the harp, and the folk that had +learned to sing the sweetest, both men and women, and Redesman at the +head of them all. + +Then fell the throng into an ordered company; first went the music, and +then a score of Face-of-god’s warriors with drawn swords and uplifted +spears; and then the flower-bedecked misery of the Runaways, men and +women going together, gaunt, befouled, and hollow-eyed, with here and +there a flushed cheek or gleaming eye, or tear-bedewed face, as the joy +and triumph of the eve pierced through their wonted weariness of grief; +then the rest of the warriors, and lastly the mingled crowd of Dalesfolk, +tall men and fair women gaily arrayed, clean-faced, clear-skinned, and +sleek-haired, with glancing eyes and ruddy lips. + +And now Redesman turned about to the music and drew his bow across his +fiddle, and the other bows ran out in concert, and the harps followed the +story of them, and he lifted up his voice and sang the words of an old +song, and all the singers joined him and blended their voices with his. +And these are some of the words which they sang: + + Lo! here is Spring, and all we are living, + We that were wan with Winter’s fear; + Reach out your hands to her hands that are giving, + Lest ye lose her love and the light of the year. + + Many a morn did we wake to sorrow, + When low on the land the cloud-wrath lay; + Many an eve we feared to-morrow, + The unbegun unfinished day. + + Ah we—we hoped not, and thou wert tardy; + Nought wert thou helping; nought we prayed. + Where was the eager heart, the hardy? + Where was the sweet-voiced unafraid? + + But now thou lovest, now thou leadest, + Where is gone the grief of our minds? + What was the word of the tale, that thou heedest + E’en as the breath of the bygone winds? + + Green and green is thy garment growing + Over thy blossoming limbs beneath; + Up o’er our feet rise the blades of thy sowing, + Pierced are our hearts with thine odorous breath. + + But where art thou wending, thou new-comer? + Hurrying on to the Courts of the Sun? + Where art thou now in the House of the Summer? + Told are thy days and thy deed is done. + + Spring has been here for us that are living + After the days of Winter’s fear; + Here in our hands is the wealth of her giving, + The Love of the Earth, and the Light of the Year. + +Thus came they to the Gate, and lo! the Bride thereby, leaning against a +buttress, gazing with no dull eyes at the coming throng. She was now +clad in her woman’s attire again, to wit a light flame-coloured gown over +a green kirtle; but she yet bore a gilded helm on her head and a sword +girt to her side in token of her oath to the God. She had been in +Hall-face’s company in that last battle, and had done a man’s service +there, fighting very valiantly, but had not been hurt, and had come back +to Burgstead when the shift of men was. + +Now she drew herself up and stood a little way before the Gate and looked +forth on the throng, and when her eyes beheld the Runaways amidst of the +weaponed carles of Burgdale, her face flushed, and her eyes filled with +tears as she stood, partly wondering, partly deeming what they were. She +waited till Stone-face came by her, and then she took the old man by the +sleeve, and drew him apart a little and said to him: ‘What meaneth this +show, my friend? Who hath clad these folk thus strangely; and who be +these three naked tall ones, so fierce-looking, but somewhat noble of +aspect?’ + +For indeed those three men of the kindreds, when they had gotten into the +Dale, and had rested them, and drunk a cup of wine, and when they had +seen the chaplets and wreaths of the spring-flowers wherewith they were +bedecked, and had smelt the sweet savour of them, fell to walking +proudly, heeding not their nakedness; for no rag had they upon them save +breech-clouts of deer-skin: they had changed weapons with the Burgdale +carles; and one had gotten a great axe, which he bore over his shoulder, +and the shaft thereof was all done about with copper; and another had +shouldered a long heavy thrusting-spear, and the third, an exceeding tall +man, bore a long broad-bladed war-sword. Thus they went, brown of skin +beneath their flower-garlands, their long hair bleached by the sun +falling about their shoulders; high they strode amongst the shuffling +carles and tripping women of the later-come thralls. But when they heard +the music, and saw that they were coming to the Gate in triumph, strange +thoughts of old memories swelled up in their hearts, and they refrained +them not from weeping, for they felt that the joy of life had come back +to them. + +Nor must it be deemed that these were the only ones amongst the Runaways +whose hearts were cheered and softened: already were many of them coming +back to life, as they felt their worn bodies caressed by the clear soft +air of Burgdale, and the sweetness of the flowers that hung about them, +and saw all round about the kind and happy faces of their well-willers. + +So Stone-face looked on the Bride as she stood with face yet +tear-bedewed, awaiting his answer, and said: + +‘Daughter, thou sayest who clad these folk thus? It was misery that hath +so dight them; and they are the images of what we shall be if we love +foul life better than fair death, and so fall into the hands of the +Felons, who were the masters of these men. As for the tall naked men, +they are of our own blood, and kinsmen to Face-of-god’s new friends; and +they are of the best of the vanquished: it was in early days that they +fled from thralldom; as we may have to do. Now, daughter, I bid thee be +as joyous as thou art valiant, and then shall all be well.’ + +Therewith she smiled on him, and he departed, and she stood a little +while, as the throng moved on and was swallowed by the Gate, and looked +after them; and for all her pity for the other folk, she thought chiefly +of those fearless tall men who were of the blood of those with whom it +was lawful to wed. + +There she stood as the wind dried the tears upon her cheeks, thinking of +the sorrow which these folk had endured, and their stripes and mocking, +their squalor and famine; and she wondered and looked on her own fair and +shapely hands with the precious finger-rings thereon, and on the dainty +cloth and trim broidery of her sleeve; and she touched her smooth cheek +with the back of her hand, and smiled, and felt the spring sweet in her +mouth, and its savour goodly in her nostrils; and therewith she called to +mind the aspect of her lovely body, as whiles she had seen it imaged, all +its full measure, in the clear pool at midsummer, or piece-meal, in the +shining steel of the Westland mirror. She thought also with what joy she +drew the breath of life, yea, even amidst of grief, and of how sweet and +pure and well-nurtured she was, and how well beloved of many friends and +the whole folk, and she set all this beside those woeful bodies and +lowering faces, and felt shame of her sorrow of heart, and the pain it +had brought to her; and ever amidst shame and pity of all that misery +rose up before her the images of those tall fierce men, and it seemed to +her as if she had seen something like to them in some dream or +imagination of her mind. + +So came the Burgdalers and their guests into the street of Burgstead +amidst music and singing; and the throng was great there. Then +Face-of-god bade make a ring about the strangers, and they did so, and he +and the Runaways alone were in the midst of it; and he spake in a loud +voice and said: + +‘Men of the Dale and the Burg, these folk whom here ye see in such a +sorry plight are they whom our deadly foes have rejoiced to torment; let +us therefore rejoice to cherish them. Now let those men come forth who +deem that they have enough and more, so that they may each take into +their houses some two or three of these friends such as would be fain to +be together. And since I am War-leader, and have the right hereto, I +will first choose them whom I will lead into the House of the Face. And +lo you! will I have this man (and he laid his hand on Dallach),who is he +whom I first came across, and who found us all these others, and next I +will have yonder tall carles, the three of them, because I perceive them +to be men meet to be with a War-leader, and to follow him in battle.’ + +Therewith he drew the three Men of the Wolf towards him, but Dallach +already was standing beside him. And folk rejoiced in Face-of-god. + +But the Bride came forward next, and spake to him meekly and simply: + +‘War-leader, let me have of the women those who need me most, that I may +bring them to the House of the Steer, and try if there be not some good +days yet to be found for them, wherein they shall but remember the past +grief as an ugly dream.’ + +Then Face-of-god looked on her, and him-seemed he had never seen her so +fair; and all the shame wherewith he had beheld her of late was gone from +him, and his heart ran over with friendly love towards her as she looked +into his face with kindly eyes; and he said: + +‘Kinswoman, take thy choice as thy kindness biddeth, and happy shall they +be whom thou choosest.’ + +She bowed her head soberly, and chose from among the guests four women of +the saddest and most grievous, and no man of their kindred spake for +going along with them; then she went her ways home, leading one of them +by the hand, and strange was it to see those twain going through sun and +shade together, that poor wretch along with the goodliest of women. + +Then came forward one after other of the worthy goodmen of the Dale, and +especially such as were old, and they led away one one man, and another +two, and another three, and often would a man crave to go with a woman or +a woman with a man, and it was not gainsaid them. So were all the guests +apportioned, and ill-content were those goodmen that had to depart +without a guest; and one man would say to another: ‘Such-an-one, be not +downcast; this guest shall be between us, if he will, and shall dwell +with thee and me month about; but this first month with me, since I was +first comer.’ And so forth was it said. + +Now to prevent the time to come, it may be said about the Runaways, that +when they had been a little while amongst the Burgdalers, well fed and +well clad and kindly cherished, it was marvellous how they were bettered +in aspect of body, and it began to be seen of them that they were +well-favoured people, and divers of the women exceeding goodly, +black-haired and grey-eyed, and very clear-skinned and white-skinned; +most of them were young, and the oldest had not seen above forty winters. +They of Rose-dale, and especially such as had first fled away to the +wood, were very soon seen to be merry and kindly folk; but they who had +been longest in captivity, and notably those from Silver-dale who were +not of the kindreds, were for a long time sullen and heavy, and it +availed little to trust to them for the doing of work; albeit they would +follow about their friends of Burgdale with the love of a dog; also they +were, divers of them, somewhat thievish, and if they lacked anything +would liefer take it by stealth than ask for it; which forsooth the +Burgdale men took not amiss, but deemed of it as a jest rather. + +Very few of the Runaways had any will to fare back to their old homes, or +indeed could be got to go into the wood, or, after a day or two, to say +any word of Rose-dale or Silver-dale. In this and other matters the +Burgdalers dealt with them as with children who must have their way; for +they deemed that their guests had much time to make up; also they were +well content when they saw how goodly they were, for these Dalesmen loved +to see men goodly of body and of a cheerful countenance. + +As for Dallach and the three Silver-dale men of the kindred, they went +gladly whereas the Burgdale men would have them; and half a score others +took weapons in their hands when the war was foughten: concerning which +more hereafter. + +But on the even whereof the tale now tells, Face-of-god and Stone-face +and their company met after nightfall in the Hall of the Face clad in +glorious raiment, and therewith were Dallach and the men of Silver-dale, +washen and docked of their long hair, after the fashion of warriors who +bear the helm; and they were clad in gay attire, with battle-swords girt +to their sides and gold rings on their arms. Somewhat stern and sad-eyed +were those Silver-dalers yet, though they looked on those about them +kindly and courteously when they met their eyes; and Face-of-god yearned +towards them when he called to mind the beauty and wisdom and +loving-kindness of the Sun-beam. They were, as aforesaid, strong men and +tall, and one of them taller than any amidst that house of tall men. +Their names were Wolf-stone, the tallest, and God-swain, and Spear-fist; +and God-swain the youngest was of thirty winters, and Wolf-stone of +forty. They came into the Hall in such wise, that when they were washed +and attired, and all men were assembled in the Hall, and the Alderman and +the chieftains sitting on the daïs, Face-of-god brought them in from the +out-bower, holding Dallach by the right hand and Wolf-stone by the left; +and he looked but a stripling beside that huge man. + +And when the men in the Hall beheld such goodly warriors, and remembered +their grief late past, they all stood up and shouted for joy of them. +But Face-of-god passed up the Hall with them, and stood before the daïs +and said: + +‘O Alderman of the Dale and Chief of the House of the Face, here I bring +to you the foes of our foemen, whom I have met in the Wild-wood, and +bidden to our House; and meseemeth they will be our friends, and stand +beside us in the day of battle. Therefore I say, take these guests and +me together, or put us all to the door together; and if thou wilt take +them, then show them to such places as thou deemest meet.’ + +Then stood up the Alderman and said: + +‘Men of Silver-dale and Rose-dale, I bid you welcome! Be ye our friends, +and abide here with us as long as seemeth good to you, and share in all +that is ours. Son Face-of-god, show these warriors to seats on the daïs +beside thee, and cherish them as well as thou knowest how.’ + +Then Face-of-god brought them up on to the daïs and sat down on the right +hand of his father, with Dallach on his right hand, and then Wolf-stone +out from him; then sat Stone-face, that there might be a man of the Dale +to talk with them and serve them; and on his right hand first Spear-fist +and then God-swain. And when they were all sat down, and the meat was on +the board, Iron-face turned to his son Face-of-god and took his hand, and +said in a loud voice, so that many might hear him: + +‘Son Face-of-god, son Gold-mane, thou bearest with thee both ill luck and +good. Erewhile, when thou wanderedst out into the Wild-wood, seeking +thou knewest not what from out of the Land of Dreams, thou didst but +bring aback to us grief and shame; but now that thou hast gone forth with +the neighbours seeking thy foemen, thou hast come aback to us with thine +hands full of honour and joy for us, and we thank thee for thy gifts, and +I call thee a lucky man. Herewith, kinsman, I drink to thee and the +lasting of thy luck.’ + +Therewith he stood up and drank the health of the War-leader and the +Guests: and all men were exceeding joyous thereat, when they called to +mind his wrath at the Gate-thing, and they shouted for gladness as they +drank that health, and the feast became exceeding merry in the House of +the Face; and as to the war to come, it seemed to them as if it were over +and done in all triumph. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. HALL-FACE GOETH TOWARD ROSE-DALE. + + +ON the morrow Face-of-god took counsel with Hall-face and Stone-face as +to what were best to be done, and they sat on the daïs in the Hall to +talk it over. + +Short was the time that had worn since that day in Shadowy Vale, for it +was but eight days since then; yet so many things had befallen in that +time, and, to speak shortly, the outlook for the Burgdalers had changed +so much, that the time seemed long to all the three, and especially to +Face-of-god. + +It was yet twenty days till the Great Folk-mote should beholden, and to +Hall-face the time seemed long enough to do somewhat, and he deemed it +were good to gather force and fall on the Dusky Men in Rose-dale, since +now they had gotten men who could lead them the nighest way and by the +safest passes, and who knew all the ways of the foemen. But to +Stone-face this rede seemed not so good; for they would have to go and +come back, and fight and conquer, in less time than twenty days, or be +belated of the Folk-mote, and meanwhile much might happen. + +‘For,’ said Stone-face, ‘we may deem the fighting-men of Rose-dale to be +little less than one thousand, and however we fall on them, even if it be +unawares at first, they shall fight stubbornly; so that we may not send +against them many less than they be, and that shall strip Burgdale of its +fighting-men, so that whatever befalls, we that be left shall have to +bide at home.’ + +Now was Face-of-god of the same mind as Stone-face; and he said moreover: +‘When we go to Rose-dale we must abide there a while unless we be +overthrown. For if ye conquer it and come away at once, presently shall +the tidings come to the ears of the Dusky Men in Silver-dale, and they +shall join themselves to those of Rose-dale who have fled before you, and +between them they shall destroy the unhappy people therein; for ye cannot +take them all away with you: and that shall they do all the more now, +when they look to have new thralls in Burgdale, both men and women. And +this we may not suffer, but must abide till we have met all our foemen +and have overcome them, so that the poor folk there shall be safe from +them till they have learned how to defend their dale. Now my rede is, +that we send out the War-arrow at once up and down the Dale, and to the +Shepherds and Woodlanders, and appoint a day for the Muster and +Weapon-show of all our Folk, and that day to be the day before the Spring +Market, that is to say, four days before the Great Folk-mote, and +meantime that we keep sure watch about the border of the wood, and now +and again scour the wood, so as to clear the Dale of their wandering +bands.’ + +‘Yea,’ said Hall-face; ‘and I pray thee, brother, let me have an hundred +of men and thy Dallach, and let us go somewhat deep into the wood towards +Rose-dale, and see what we may come across; peradventure it might be +something better than hart or wild-swine.’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘I see no harm therein, if Dallach goeth with thee +freely; for I will have no force put on him or any other of the Runaways. +Yet meseemeth it were not ill for thee to find the road to Rose-dale; for +I have it in my mind to send a company thither to give those Rose-dale +man-quellers somewhat to do at home when we fall upon Silver-dale. +Therefore go find Dallach, and get thy men together at once; for the +sooner thou art gone on thy way the better. But this I bid thee, go no +further than three days out, that ye may be back home betimes.’ + +At this word Hall-face’s eyes gleamed with joy, and he went out from the +Hall straightway and sought Dallach, and found him at the Gate. +Iron-face had given him a new sword, a good one, and had bidden him call +it Thicket-clearer, and he would not leave it any moment of the day or +night, but would lay it under his pillow at night as a child does with a +new toy; and now he was leaning against a buttress and drawing the said +sword half out of the scabbard and poring over its blade, which was +indeed fair enough, being wrought with dark grey waving lines like the +eddies of the Weltering Water. + +So Hall-face greeted him, and smiled and said: + +‘Guest, if thou wilt, thou may’st take that new blade of my father’s work +which thou lovest so, a journey which shall rejoice it.’ + +‘Yea,’ said Dallach, ‘I suppose that thou wouldest fare on thy brother’s +footsteps, and deemest that I am the man to lead thee on the road, and +even farther than he went; and though it might be thought by some that I +have seen enough of Rose-dale and the parts thereabout for one while, yet +will I go with thee; for now am I a man again, body and soul.’ + +And therewith he drew Thicket-clearer right out of his sheath and waved +him in the air. And Hall-face was glad of him and said he was well apaid +of his help. So they went away together to gather men, and on the morrow +Hall-face departed and went into the Wild-wood with Dallach and an +hundred and two score men. + +But as for Face-of-god, he fared up and down the Dale following the +War-arrow, and went into all houses, and talked with the folk, both young +and old, men and women, and told them closely all that had betid and all +that was like to betide; and he was well pleased with that which he saw +and heard; for all took his words well, and were nought afeard or +dismayed by the tidings; and he saw that they would not hang aback. +Meantime the days wore, and Hall-face came not back till the seventh day, +and he brought with him twelve more Runaways, of whom five were women. +But he had lost four men, and had with him Dallach and five others of the +Dalesmen borne upon litters sore hurt; and this was his story: + +They got to the Burg of the Runaways on the forenoon of the third day, +and thereby came on five carles of the Runaways—men who had missed +meeting Dallach that other day, but knew what had been done; for one of +them had been sick and could not come with him, and he had told the +others: so now they were hanging about the Burg of the Runaways hoping +somewhat that he might come again; and they met the Burgdalers full of +joy, and brought them trouts that they had caught in the river. + +As for the other runaways, namely, five women and two more carles—they +had gotten them close to the entrance into Silver-dale, where by night +and cloud they came on a campment of the Dusky Men, who were leading home +these seven poor wretches, runaways whom they had caught, that they might +slay them most evilly in Rose-stead. So Hall-face fell on the Dusky Men, +and delivered their captives, but slew not all the foe, and they that +fled brought pursuers on them who came up with them the next day, so near +was Rose-dale, though they made all diligence homeward. The Burgdalers +must needs turn and fight with those pursuers, and at last they drave +them aback so that they might go on their ways home. They let not the +grass grow beneath their feet thereafter, till they were assured by +meeting a band of the Woodlanders, who had gone forth to help them, and +with whom they rested a little. But neither so were they quite done with +the foemen, who came upon them next day a very many: these however they +and the Woodlanders, who were all fresh and unwounded and very valiant, +speedily put to the worse; and so they came on to Burgstead, leaving +those of them who were sorest hurt to be tended by the Woodlanders at +Carlstead, who, as might be looked for, deal with them very lovingly. + +It was in the first fight that they suffered that loss of slain and +wounded; and therein the newly delivered thralls fought valiantly against +their masters: as for Dallach, it was no marvel, said Hall-face, that he +was hurt; but rather a marvel that he was not slain, so little he recked +of point and edge, if he might but slay the foemen. + +Such was Hall-face’s-tale; and Face-of-god deemed that he had done +unwisely to let him go that journey; for the slaying of a few Dusky Men +was but a light gain to set against the loss of so many Burgdalers; yet +was he glad of the deliverance of those Runaways, and deemed it a gain +indeed. But henceforth would he hold all still till he should have +tidings of Folk-might; so nought was done thereafter save the warding of +the Dale, from the country of the Shepherds to the Waste above the +Eastern passes. + +But Face-of-god himself went up amongst the Shepherds, and abode with a +goodman hight Hound-under-Greenbury, who gathered to him the folk from +the country-side, and they went up on to Greenbury, and sat on the green +grass while he spoke with them and told them, as he had told the others, +what had been done and what should be done. And they heard him gladly, +and he deemed that there would be no blenching in them, for they were all +in one tale to live and die with their friends of Burgdale, and they said +that they would have no other word save that to bear to the Great +Folk-mote. + +So he went away well-pleased, and he fared on thence to the Woodlanders, +and guested at the house of a valiant man hight Wargrove, who on the +morrow morn called the folk together to a green lawn of the Wild-wood, so +that there was scarce a soul of them that was not there. Then he laid +the whole matter before them; and if the Dalesmen had been merry and +ready, and the Shepherds stout-hearted and friendly, yet were the +Wood-landers more eager still, so that every hour seemed long to them +till they stood in their war-gear; and they told him that now at last was +the hour drawing nigh which they had dreamed of, but had scarce dared to +hope for, when the lost way should be found, and the crooked made +straight, and that which had been broken should be mended; that their +meat and drink, and sleeping and waking, and all that they did were now +become to them but the means of living till the day was come whereon the +two remnants of the children of the Wolf should meet and become one Folk +to live or die together. + +Then went Face-of-god back to Burgstead again, and as he stood anigh the +Thing-stead once more, and looked down on the Dale as he had beheld it +last autumn, he bethought him that with all that had been done and all +that had been promised, the earth was clearing of her trouble, and that +now there was nought betwixt him and the happy days of life which the +Dale should give to the dwellers therein, save the gathering hosts of the +battle-field and the day when the last word should be spoken and the +first stroke smitten. So he went down on to the Portway well content. + +Thereafter till the day of the Weapon-show there is nought to tell of, +save that Dallach and the other wounded men began to grow whole again; +and all men sat at home, or went on the woodland ward, expecting great +tidings after the holding of the Folk-mote. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. OF THE WEAPON-SHOW OF THE MEN OF BURGDALE AND THEIR +NEIGHBOURS. + + +NOW on the day appointed for the Weapon-show came the Folk flock-meal to +the great and wide meadow that was cleft by Wildlake as it ran to join +the Weltering Water. Early in the morning, even before sunrise, had the +wains full of women and children begun to come thither. Also there came +little horses and asses from the Shepherd country with one or two or +three damsels or children sitting on each, and by wain-side or by beast +strode the men of the house, merry and fair in their war-gear. The +Woodlanders, moreover, man and woman, elder and swain and young damsel, +streamed out of the wood from Carlstead, eager to make the day begin +before the sunrise, and end before his setting. + +Then all men fell to pitching of tents and tilting over of wains; for the +April sun was hot in the Dale, and when he arose the meads were gay with +more than the spring flowers; for the tents and the tilts were stained +and broidered with many colours, and there was none who had not furbished +up his war-gear so that all shone and glittered. And many wore gay +surcoats over their armour, and the women were clad in all their bravery, +and the Houses mostly of a suit; for one bore blue and another +corn-colour, and another green, and another brazil, and so forth, and all +gleaming and glowing with broidery of gold and bright hues. But the +women of the Shepherds were all clad in white, embroidered with green +boughs and red blossoms, and the Woodland women wore dark red kirtles. +Moreover, the women had set garlands of flowers on their heads and the +helms of the men, and for the most part they were slim of body and tall +and light-limbed, and as dainty to look upon as the willow-boughs that +waved on the brook-side. + +Thither had the goodmen who were guesting the Runaways brought their +guests, even now much bettered by their new soft days; and much the poor +folk marvelled at all this joyance, and they scarce knew where they were; +but to some it brought back to their minds days of joyance before the +thralldom and all that they had lost, so that their hearts were heavy a +while, till they saw the warriors of the kindreds streaming into the mead +and bethought them why they carried steel. + +Now by then the sun was fully up there was a great throng on the Portway, +and this was the folk of the Burg on their way to the Weapon-mead. The +men-at-arms were in the midst of the throng, and at the head of them was +the War-leader, with the banner of the Face before him, wherein was done +the image of the God with the ray-ringed head. But at the rearward of +the warriors went the Alderman and the Burg-wardens, before whom was +borne the banner of the Burg pictured with the Gate and its Towers; but +in the midst betwixt those two was the banner of the Steer, a white beast +on a green field. + +So when the Dale-wardens who were down in the meadow heard the music and +beheld who were coming, they bade the companies of the Dale and the +Shepherds and the Woodlanders who were down there to pitch their banners +in a half circle about the ingle of the meadow which was made by the +streams of Wildlake and the Weltering Water, and gather to them to be +ordered there under their leaders of scores and half-hundreds and +hundreds; and even so they did. But the banners of the Dale without the +Burg were the Bridge, and the Bull, and the Vine, and the Sickle. And +the Shepherds had three banners, to wit Greenbury, and the Fleece, and +the Thorn. + +As for the Woodlanders, they said that they were abiding their great +banner, but it should come in good time; ‘and meantime,’ said they, ‘here +are the war-tokens that we shall fight under; for they are good enough +banners for us poor men, the remnant of the valiant of time past.’ +Therewith they showed two great spears, and athwart the one was tied an +arrow, its point dipped in blood, its feathers singed with fire; and they +said, ‘This is the banner of the War-shaft.’ + +On the other spear there was nought; but the head thereof was great and +long, and they had so burnished the steel that the sun smote out a ray of +light from it, so that it might be seen from afar. And they said: ‘This +is the Banner of the Spear! Down yonder where the ravens are gathering +ye shall see a banner flying over us. There shall fall many a mother’s +son.’ + +Smiled the Dale-wardens, and said that these were good banners to fight +under; and those that stood nearby shouted for the valiancy of the +Woodland Carles. + +Now the Dale-wardens went to the entrance from the Portway to the meadow, +and there met the Men of the Burg, and two of them went one on either +side of the War-leader to show him to his seat, and the others abode till +the Alderman and Burg-wardens came up, and then joined themselves to +them, and the horns blew up both in the meadow and on the road, and the +new-comers went their ways to their appointed places amidst the shouts of +the Dalesmen; and the women and children and old men from the Burg +followed after, till all the mead was covered with bright raiment and +glittering gear, save within the ring of men at the further end. + +So came the War-leader to his seat of green turf raised in the ingle +aforesaid; and he stood beside it till the Alderman and Wardens had taken +their places on a seat behind him raised higher than his; below him on +the step of his seat sat the Scrivener with his pen and ink-horn and +scroll of parchment, and men had brought him a smooth shield whereon to +write. + +On the left side of Face-of-god stood the men of the Face all glittering +in their arms, and amongst them were Wolf-stone and his two fellows, but +Dallach was not yet whole of his hurts. On his right were the folk of +the House of the Steer: the leader of that House was an old white-bearded +man, grandfather of the Bride, for her father was dead; and who but the +Bride herself stood beside him in her glorious war-gear, looking as if +she were new come from the City of the Gods, thought most men; but those +who beheld her closely deemed that she looked heavy-eyed and haggard, as +if she were aweary. Nevertheless, wheresoever she passed, and whosoever +looked on her (and all men looked on her), there arose a murmur of praise +and love; and the women, and especially the young ones, said how fair her +deed was, and how meet she was for it; and some of them were for doing on +war-gear and faring to battle with the carles; and of these some were +sober and solemn, as was well seen afterwards, and some spake lightly: +some also fell to boasting of how they could run and climb and swim and +shoot in the bow, and fell to baring of their arms to show how strong +they were: and indeed they were no weaklings, though their arms were +fair. + +There then stood the ring of men, each company under its banner; and +beyond them stood the women and children and men unmeet for battle; and +beyond them again the tilted wains and the tents. + +Now Face-of-god sat him down on the turf-seat with his bright helm on his +head and his naked sword across his knees, while the horns blew up +loudly, and when they had done, the elder of the Dale-wardens cried out +for silence. Then again arose Face-of-god and said: + +‘Men of the Dale, and ye friends of the Shepherds, and ye, O valiant +Woodlanders; we are not assembled here to take counsel, for in three +days’ time shall the Great Folk-mote be holden, whereat shall be counsel +enough. But since I have been appointed your Chief and War-leader, till +such time as the Folk-mote shall either yeasay or naysay my leadership, I +have sent for you that we may look each other in the face and number our +host and behold our weapons, and see if we be meet for battle and for the +dealing with a great host of foemen. For now no longer can it be said +that we are going to war, but rather that war is on our borders, and we +are blended with it; as many have learned to their cost; for some have +been slain and some sorely hurt. Therefore I bid you now, all ye that +are weaponed, wend past us that the tale of you may be taken. But first +let every hundred-leader and half-hundred-leader and score-leader make +sure that he hath his tale aright, and give his word to the captain of +his banner that he in turn may give it out to the Scrivener with his name +and the House and Company that he leadeth.’ + +So he spake and sat him adown; and the horns blew again in token that the +companies should go past; and the first that came was Hall-ward of the +House of the Steer, and the first of those that went after him was the +Bride, going as if she were his son. + +So he cried out his name, and the name of his House, and said, ‘An +hundred and a half,’ and passed forth, his men following him in most +goodly array. Each man was girt with a good sword and bore a long heavy +spear over his shoulder, save a score who bare bows; and no man lacked a +helm, a shield, and a coat of fence. + +Then came a goodly man of thirty winters, and stayed before the Scrivener +and cried out: + +‘Write down the House of the Bridge of the Upper Dale at one hundred, and +War-well their leader.’ + +And he strode on, and his men followed clad and weaponed like those of +the Steer, save that some had axes hanging to their girdles instead of +swords; and most bore casting-spears instead of the long spears, and half +a score were bowmen. + +Then came Fox of Upton leading the men of the Bull of Middale, an hundred +and a half lacking two; very great and tall were his men, and they also +bore long spears, and one score and two were bowmen. + +Then Fork-beard of Lea, a man well on in years, led on the men of the +Vine, an hundred and a half and five men thereto; two score of them bare +bow in hand and were girt with sword; the rest bore their swords naked in +their right hands, and their shields (which were but small bucklers) +hanging at their backs, and in the left hand each bore two +casting-spears. With these went two doughty women-at-arms among the +bowmen, tall and well-knit, already growing brown with the spring sun, +for their work lay among the stocks of the vines on the southward-looking +bents. + +Next came a tall young man, yellow-haired, with a thin red beard, and +gave himself out for Red-beard of the Knolls; he bore his father’s name, +as the custom of their house was, but the old man, who had long been head +man of the House of the Sickle, was late dead in his bed, and the young +man had not seen twenty winters. He bade the Scrivener write the tale of +the Men of the Sickle at an hundred and a half, and his folk fared past +the War-leader joyously, being one half of them bowmen; and fell shooters +they were; the other half were girt with swords, and bore withal long +ashen staves armed with great blades curved inwards, which weapon they +called heft-sax. + +All these bands, as the name and the tale of them was declared were +greeted with loud shouts from their fellows and the bystanders; but now +arose a greater shout still, as Stone-face, clad in goodly glittering +array, came forth and said: + +‘I am Stone-face of the House of the Face, and I bring with me two +hundreds of men with their best war-gear and weapons: write it down, +Scrivener!’ + +And he strode on like a young man after those who had gone past, and +after him came the tall Hall-face and his men, a gallant sight to see: +two score bowmen girt with swords, and the others with naked swords +waving aloft, and each bearing two casting-spears in his left hand. + +Then came a man of middle age, broad-shouldered, yellow-haired, +blue-eyed, of wide and ruddy countenance, and after him a goodly company; +and again great was the shout that went up to the heavens; for he said: + +‘Scrivener, write down that Hound-under-Greenbury, from amongst the +dwellers in the hills where the sheep feed, leadeth the men who go under +the banner of Greenbury, to the tale of an hundred and four score.’ + +Therewith he passed on, and his men followed, stout, stark, and +merry-faced, girt with swords, and bearing over their shoulders +long-staved axes, and spears not so long as those which the Dalesmen +bore; and they had but a half score of arrow-shot with them. + +Next came a young man, blue-eyed also, with hair the colour of flax on +the distaff, broad-faced and short-nosed, low of stature, but very +strong-built, who cried out in a loud, cheerful voice: + +‘I am Strongitharm of the Shepherds, and these valiant men are of the +Fleece and the Thorn blended together, for so they would have it; and +their tale is one hundred and two score and ten.’ + +Then the men of those kindreds went past merry and shouting, and they +were clad and weaponed like to them of Greenbury, but had with them a +score of bowmen. And all these Shepherd-folk wore over their hauberks +white woollen surcoats broidered with green and red. + +Now again uprose the cry, and there stood before the War-leader a very +tall man of fifty winters, dark-faced and grey-eyed, and he spake slowly +and somewhat softly, and said: + +‘War-leader, this is Red-wolf of the Woodlanders leading the men who go +under the sign of the War-shaft, to the number of an hundred and two.’ + +Then he passed on, and his men after him, tall, lean, and silent amidst +the shouting. All these men bare bows, for they were keen hunters; each +had at his girdle a little axe and a wood-knife, and some had long swords +withal. They wore, everyone of the carles, short green surcoats over +their coats of fence; but amongst them were three women who bore like +weapons to the men, but were clad in red kirtles under their hauberks, +which were of good ring-mail gleaming over them from throat to knee. + +Last came another tall man, but young, of twenty-five winters, and spake: + +‘Scrivener, I am Bears-bane of the Woodlanders, and these that come after +me wend under the sign of the Spear, and they are of the tale of one +hundred and seven.’ + +And he passed by at once, and his men followed him, clad and weaponed no +otherwise than they of the War-shaft, and with them were two women. + +Now went all those companies back to their banners, and stood there; and +there arose among the bystanders much talk concerning the Weapon-show, +and who were the best arrayed of the Houses. And of the old men, some +spake of past weapon-shows which they had seen in their youth, and they +set them beside this one, and praised and blamed. So it went on a little +while till the horns blew again, and once more there was silence. Then +arose Face-of-god and said: + +‘Men of Burgdale, and ye Shepherd-folk, and ye of the Woodland, now shall +ye wot how many weaponed men we may bring together for this war. +Scrivener, arise and give forth the tale of the companies, as they have +been told unto you.’ + +Then the Scrivener stood up on the turf-bench beside Face-of-god, and +spake in a loud voice, reading from his scroll: + +‘Of the Men of Burgdale there have passed by me nine hundreds and six; of +the Shepherds three hundreds and eight and ten; and of the Woodlanders +two hundreds and nine; so that all told our men are fourteen hundreds and +thirty and three.’ + +Now in those days men reckoned by long hundreds, so that the whole tale +of the host was one thousand, five hundred, and four score and one, +telling the tale in short hundreds. + +When the tale had been given forth and heard, men shouted again, and they +rejoiced that they were so many. For it exceeded the reckoning which the +Alderman had given out at the Gate-thing. But Face-of-god said: + +‘Neighbours, we have held our Weapon-show; but now hold you ready, each +man, for the Hosting toward very battle; for belike within seven days +shall the leaders of hundreds and twenties summon you to be ready in arms +to take whatso fortune may befall. Now is sundered the Weapon-show. Be +ye as merry to-day as your hearts bid you to be.’ + +Therewith he came down from his seat with the Alderman and the Wardens, +and they mingled with the good folk of the Dale and the Shepherds and the +Woodlanders, and merry was their converse there. It yet lacked an hour +of noon; so presently they fell to and feasted in the green meadow, +drinking from wain to wain and from tent to tent; and thereafter they +played and sported in the meads, shooting at the butts and wrestling, and +trying other masteries. Then they fell to dancing one and all, and so at +last to supper on the green grass in great merriment. Nor might you have +known from the demeanour of any that any threat of evil overhung the +Dale. Nay, so glad were they, and so friendly, that you might rather +have deemed that this was the land whereof tales tell, wherein people die +not, but live for ever, without growing any older than when they first +come thither, unless they be born into the land itself, and then they +grow into fair manhood, and so abide. In sooth, both the land and the +folk were fair enough to be that land and the folk thereof. + +But a little after sunset they sundered, and some fared home; but many of +them abode in the tents and tilted wains, because the morrow was the +first day of the Spring Market: and already were some of the Westland +chapmen come; yea, two of them were with the bystanders in the meadow; +and more were looked for ere the night was far spent. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. THE MEN OF SHADOWY VALE COME TO THE SPRING MARKET AT +BURGSTEAD. + + +ON the morrow betimes in the morning the Westland chapmen, who were now +all come, went out from the House of the Face, where they were ever wont +to be lodged, and set up their booths adown the street betwixt gate and +bridge. Gay was the show; for the booths were tilted over with painted +cloths, and the merchants themselves were clad in long gowns of fine +cloth; scarlet, and blue, and white, and green, and black, with broidered +welts of gold and silver; and their knaves were gaily attired in short +coats of divers hues, with silver rings about their arms, and short +swords girt to their sides. People began to gather about these chapmen +at once when they fell to opening their bales and their packs, and +unloading their wains. There had they iron, both in pigs and forged +scrap and nails; steel they had, and silver, both in ingots and vessel; +pearls from over sea; cinnabar and other colours for staining, such as +were not in the mountains: madder from the marshes, and purple of the +sea, and scarlet grain from the holm-oaks by its edge, and woad from the +deep clayey fields of the plain; silken thread also from the outer ocean, +and rare webs of silk, and jars of olive oil, and fine pottery, and +scented woods, and sugar of the cane. But gold they had none with them, +for that they took there; and for weapons, save a few silver-gilt toys, +they had no market. + +So presently they fell to chaffer; for the carles brought them little +bags of the river-borne gold, so that the weights and scales were at +work; others had with them scrolls and tallies to tell the number of the +beasts which they had to sell, and the chapmen gave them wares therefor +without beholding the beasts; for they wotted that the Dalesmen lied not +in chaffer. While the day was yet young withal came the Dalesmen from +the mid and nether Dale with their wares and set up their booths; and +they had with them flasks and kegs of the wine which they had to sell; +and bales of the good winter-woven cloth, some grey, some dyed, and +pieces of fine linen; and blades of swords, and knives, and axes of such +fashion as the Westland men used; and golden cups and chains, and fair +rings set with mountain-blue stones, and copper bowls, and vessels gilt +and parcel-gilt, and mountain-blue for staining. There were men of the +Shepherds also with such fleeces as they could spare from the daily +chaffer with the neighbours. And of the Woodlanders were four carles and +a woman with peltries and dressed deer-skins, and a few pieces of +well-carven wood-work for bedsteads and chairs and such like. + +Soon was the Burg thronged with folk in all its open places, and all were +eager and merry, and it could not have been told from their demeanour and +countenance that the shadow of a grievous trouble hung over them. True +it was that every man of the Dale and the neighbours was girt with his +sword, or bore spear or axe or other weapon in his hand, and that most +had their bucklers at their backs and their helms on their heads; but +this was ever their custom at all meetings of men, not because they +dreaded war or were fain of strife, but in token that they were free men, +from whom none should take the weapons without battle. + +Such were the folk of the land: as for the chapmen, they were well-spoken +and courteous, and blithe with the folk, as they well might be, for they +had good pennyworths of them; yet they dealt with them without using +measureless lying, as behoved folk dealing with simple and proud people; +and many was the tale they told of the tidings of the Cities and the +Plain. + +There amongst the throng was the Bride in her maiden’s attire, but girt +with the sword, going from booth to booth with her guests of the +Runaways, and doing those poor people what pleasure she might, and giving +them gifts from the goods there, such as they set their hearts on. And +the more part of the Runaways were about among the people of the Fair; +but Dallach, being still weak, sat on a bench by the door of the House of +the Face looking on well-pleased at all the stir of folk. + +Hall-face was gone on the woodland ward; while Face-of-god went among the +folk in his most glorious attire; but he soon betook him to the place of +meeting without the Gate, where Stone-face and some of the elders were +sitting along with the Alderman, beside whom sat the head man of the +merchants, clad in a gown of fine scarlet embroidered with the best work +of the Dale, with a golden chaplet on his head, and a good sword, +golden-hilted, by his side, all which the Alderman had given to it him +that morning. These chiefs were talking together concerning the tidings +of the Plain, and many a tale the guest told to the Dalesmen, some true, +some false. For there had been battles down there, and the fall of +kings, and destruction of people, as oft befalleth in the guileful +Cities. He told them also, in answer to their story of the Dusky Men, of +how men even such-like, but riding on horses, or drawn in wains, an host +not to be numbered, had erewhile overthrown the hosts of the Cities of +the Plain, and had wrought evils scarce to be told of; and how they had +piled up the skulls of slaughtered folk into great hills beside the +city-gates, so that the sun might no longer shine into the streets; and +how because of the death and the rapine, grass had grown in the kings’ +chambers, and the wolves had chased deer in the Temples of the Gods. + +‘But,’ quoth he, ‘I know you, bold tillers of the soil, valiant scourers +of the Wild-wood, that the worst that can befall you will be to die under +shield, and that ye shall suffer no torment of the thrall. May the +undying Gods bless the threshold of this Gate, and oft may I come hither +to taste of your kindness! May your race, the uncorrupt, increase and +multiply, till your valiant men and clean maidens make the bitter sweet +and purify the earth!’ + +He spake smooth-tongued and smiling, handling the while the folds of his +fine scarlet gown, and belike he meant a full half of what he said; for +he was a man very eloquent of speech, and had spoken with kings, uncowed +and pleased with his speaking; and for that cause and his riches had he +been made chief of the chapmen. As he spake the heart of Face-of-god +swelled within him, and his cheek flushed; but Iron-face sat up straight +and proud, and a light smile played about his face, as he said gravely: + +‘Friend of the Westland, I thank thee for the blessing and the kind word. +Such as we are, we are; nor do I deem that the very Gods shall change us. +And if they will be our friends, it is well; for we desire nought of them +save their friendship; and if they will be our foes, that also shall we +bear; nor will we curse them for doing that which their lives bid them to +do. What sayest thou, Face-of-god, my son?’ + +‘Yea, father,’ said Face-of-god, ‘I say that the very Gods, though they +slay me, cannot unmake my life that has been. If they do deeds, yet +shall we also do.’ + +The Outlander smiled as they spake, and bowed his head to Iron-face and +Face-of-god, and wondered at their pride of heart, marvelling what they +would say to the great men of the Cities if they should meet them. + +But as they sat a-talking, there came two men running to them from the +Portway, their weapons all clattering upon them, and they heard withal +the sound of a horn winded not far off very loud and clear; and the +Chapman’s cheek paled: for in sooth he doubted that war was at hand, +after all he had heard of the Dalesmen’s dealings with the Dusky Men. +And all battle was loathsome to him, nor for all the gain of his chaffer +had he come into the Dale, had he known that war was looked for. + +But the chiefs of the Dalesmen stirred not, nor changed countenance; and +some of the goodmen who were in the street nigh the Gate came forth to +see what was toward; for they also had heard the voice of the horn. + +Then one of those messengers came up breathless, and stood before the +chiefs, and said: + +‘New tidings, Alderman; here be weaponed strangers come into the Dale.’ + +The Alderman smiled on him and said: ‘Yea, son, and are they a great host +of men?’ + +‘Nay,’ said the man, ‘not above a score as I deem, and there is a woman +with them.’ + +‘Then shall we abide them here,’ said the Alderman, ‘and thou mightest +have saved thy breath, and suffered them to bring tidings of themselves; +since they may scarce bring us war. For no man desireth certain and +present death; and that is all that such a band may win at our hands in +battle to-day; and all who come in peace are welcome to us. What like +are they to behold?’ + +Said the man: ‘They are tall men gloriously attired, so that they seem +like kinsmen of the Gods; and they bear flowering boughs in their hands.’ + +The Alderman laughed, and said: ‘If they be Gods they are welcome indeed; +and they shall grow the wiser for their coming; for they shall learn how +guest-fain the Burgdale men may be. But if, as I deem, they be like unto +us, and but the children of the Gods, then are they as welcome, and it +may be more so, and our greeting to them shall be as their greeting to us +would be.’ + +Even as he spake the horn was winded nearer yet, and more loudly, and +folk came pouring out of the Gate to learn the tidings. Presently the +strangers came from off the Portway into the space before the Gate; and +their leader was a tall and goodly man of some thirty winters, in +glorious array, helm on head and sword by side, his surcoat green and +flowery like the spring meads. In his right hand he held a branch of the +blossomed black-thorn (for some was yet in blossom), and his left had +hold of the hand of an exceeding fair woman who went beside him: behind +him was a score of weaponed men in goodly attire, some bearing bows, some +long spears, but each bearing a flowering bough in hand. + +The tall man stopped in the midst of the space, and the Alderman and they +with him stirred not; though, as for Face-of-god, it was to him as if +summer had come suddenly into the midst of winter, and for the very +sweetness of delight his face grew pale. + +Then the new-comer drew nigh to the Alderman and said: + +‘Hail to the Gate and the men of the Gate! Hail to the kindred of the +children of the Gods!’ + +But the Alderman stood up and spake: ‘And hail to thee, tall man! Fair +greeting to thee and thy company! Wilt thou name thyself with thine own +name, or shall I call thee nought save Guest? Welcome art thou, by +whatsoever name thou wilt be called. Here may’st thou and thy folk abide +as long as ye will.’ + +Said the new-comer: ‘Thanks have thou for thy greeting and for thy +bidding! And that bidding shall we take, whatsoever may come of it; for +we are minded to abide with thee for a while. But know thou, O Alderman +of the Dalesmen, that I am not sackless toward thee and thine. My name +is Folk-might of the Children of the Wolf, and this woman is the +Sun-beam, my sister, and these behind me are of my kindred, and are well +beloved and trusty. We are no evil men or wrong-doers; yet have we been +driven into sore straits, wherein men must needs at whiles do deeds that +make their friends few and their foes many. So it may be that I am thy +foeman. Yet, if thou doubtest of me that I shall be a baneful guest, +thou shalt have our weapons of us, and then mayest thou do thy will upon +us without dread; and here first of all is my sword!’ + +Therewith he cast down the flowering branch he was bearing, and pulled +his sword from out his sheath, and took it by the point, and held out the +hilt to Iron-face. + +But the Alderman smiled kindly on him and said: + +‘The blade is a good one, and I say it who know the craft of +sword-forging; but I need it not, for thou seest I have a sword by my +side. Keep your weapons, one and all; for ye have come amongst many and +those no weaklings: and if so be that thy guilt against us is so great +that we must needs fall on you, ye will need all your war-gear. But +hereof is no need to speak till the time of the Folk-mote, which will be +holden in three days’ wearing; so let us forbear this matter till then; +for I deem we shall have enough to say of other matters. Now, +Folk-might, sit down beside me, and thou also, Sun-beam, fairest of +women.’ + +Therewith he looked into her face and reddened, and said: + +‘Yet belike thou hast a word of greeting for my son, Face-of-god, unless +it be so that ye have not seen him before?’ + +Then Face-of-god came forward, and took Folk-might by the hand and kissed +him; and he stood before the Sun-beam and took her hand, and the world +waxed a wonder to him as he kissed her cheeks; and in no wise did she +change countenance, save that her eyes softened, and she gazed at him +full kindly from the happiness of her soul. + +Then Face-of-god said: ‘Welcome, Guests, who erewhile guested me so well: +now beginneth the day of your well-doing to the men of Burgdale; +therefore will we do to you as well as we may.’ + +Then Folk-might and the Sun-beam sat them down with the chieftains, one +on either side of the Alderman, but Face-of-god passed forth to the +others, and greeted them one by one: of them was Wood-father and his +three sons, and Bow-may; and they rejoiced exceedingly to see him, and +Bow-may said: + +‘Now it gladdens my heart to look upon thee alive and thriving, and to +remember that day last winter when I met thee on the snow, and turned +thee back from the perilous path to thy pleasure, which the Dusky Men +were besetting, of whom thou knewest nought. Yea, it was merry that +tide; but this is better. Nay, friend,’ she said, ‘it availeth thee +nought to strive to look out of the back of thine head: let it be enough +to thee that she is there. Thou art now become a great chieftain, and +she is no less; and this is a meeting of chieftains, and the folk are +looking on and expecting demeanour of them as of the Gods; and she is not +to be dealt with as if she were the daughter of some little goodman with +whom one hath made tryst in the meadows. There! hearken to me for a +while; at least till I tell thee that thou seemest to me to hold thine +head higher than when last I saw thee; though that is no long time +either. Hast thou been in battle again since that day?’ + +‘Nay,’ he said, ‘I have stricken no stroke since I slew two felons within +the same hour that we parted. And thou, sister, what hast thou done?’ + +She said: ‘The grey goose hath been on the wing thrice since that, +bearing on it the bane of evil things.’ + +Then said Wood-wise: ‘Kinswoman, tell him of that battle, since thou art +deft with thy tongue.’ + +She said: ‘Weary on battles! it is nought save this: twelve days agone +needs must every fighting-man of the Wolf, carle or of queen, wend away +from Shadowy Vale, while those unmeet for battle we hid away in the caves +at the nether end of the Dale: but Sun-beam would not endure that night, +and fared with us, though she handled no weapon. All this we had to do +because we had learned that a great company of the Dusky Men were +over-nigh to our Dale, and needs must we fall upon them, lest they should +learn too much, and spread the story. Well, so wise was Folk-might that +we came on them unawares by night and cloud at the edge of the Pine-wood, +and but one of our men was slain, and of them not one escaped; and when +the fight was over we counted four score and ten of their arm-rings.’ + +He said: ‘Did that or aught else come of our meeting with them that +morning?’ + +‘Nay,’ she said, ‘nought came of it: those we slew were but a straying +band. Nay, the four score and ten slain in the Pine-wood knew not of +Shadowy Vale belike, and had no intent for it: they were but scouring the +wood seeking their warriors that had gone out from Silver-dale and came +not aback.’ + +‘Thou art wise in war, Bow-may,’ said Face-of-god, and he smiled withal. + +Bow-may reddened and said: ‘Friend Gold-mane, dost thou perchance deem +that there is aught ill in my warring? And the Sun-beam, she naysayeth +the bearing of weapons; though I deem that she hath little fear of them +when they come her way.’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Nay, I deem no ill of it, but much good. For I +suppose that thou hast learned overmuch of the wont of the Dusky Men, and +hast seen their thralls?’ + +She knitted her brows, and all the merriment went out of her face at that +word, and she answered: ‘Yea, thou hast it; for I have both seen their +thralls and been in the Dale of thralldom; and how then can I do less +than I do? But for thee, I perceive that thou hast been nigh unto our +foes and hast fallen in with their thralls; and that is well; for whatso +tales we had told thee thereof it is like thou wouldst not have trowed +in, as now thou must do, since thou thyself hast seen these poor folk. +But now I will tell thee, Gold-mane, that my soul is sick of these +comings and goings for the slaughter of a few wretches; and I long for +the Great Day of Battle, when it will be seen whether we shall live or +die; and though I laugh and jest, yet doth the wearing of the days wear +me.’ + +He looked kindly on her and said: ‘I am War-leader of this Folk, and +trust me that the waiting-tide shall not be long; wherefore now, sister, +be merry to-day, for that is but meet and right; and cast aside thy care, +for presently shalt thou behold many new friends. But now meseemeth +overlong have ye been standing before our Gate, and it is time that ye +should see the inside of our Burg and the inside of our House.’ + +Indeed by this time so many men had come out of the street that the place +before the Gate was all thronged, and from where he stood Face-of-god +could scarce see his father, or Folk-might and the Sun-beam and the +chieftains. + +So he took Wood-father by the hand, and close behind him came Wood-wise +and Bow-may, and he cried out for way that he might speak with the +Alderman, and men gave way to them, and he led those new-comers close up +to the gate-seats of the Elders, and as he clove the press smiling and +bright-eyed and happy, all gazed on him; but the Sun-beam, who was +sitting between Iron-face and the Westland Chapman, and who heretofore +had been agaze with eyes beholding little, past whose ears the words went +unheard, and whose mind wandered into thoughts of things unfashioned yet, +when she beheld him close to her again, then, taken unawares, her eyes +caressed him, and she turned as red as a rose, as she felt all the +sweetness of desire go forth from her to meet him. So that, he +perceiving it, his voice was the clearer and sweeter for the inward joy +he felt, as he said: + +‘Alderman, meseemeth it is now time that we bring our Guests into the +House of our Fathers; for since they are in warlike array, and we are no +longer living in peace, and I am now War-leader of the Dale, I deem it +but meet that I should have the guesting of them. Moreover, when we are +come into our House, I will bid thee look into thy treasury, that thou +may’st find therein somewhat which it may pleasure us to give to our +Guests.’ + +Said Iron-face: ‘Thou sayest well, son, and since the day is now worn +past noon, and these folk are but just come from the Waste, therefore +such as we have of meat and drink abideth them. And surely there is +within our house a coffer which belongeth to thee and me; and forsooth I +know not why we keep the treasures hoarded therein, save that it be for +this cause: that if we were to give to our friends that which we +ourselves use and love, which would be of all things pleasant to us, if +we gave them such goods, they would be worn and worsened by our use of +them. For this reason, therefore, do we keep fair things which we use +not, so that we may give them to our friends. + +‘Now, Guests, both of the Waste and the Westland, since here is no +Gate-thing or meeting of the Dale-wardens, and we sit here but for our +pleasure, let us go take our pleasure within doors for a while, if it +seem good to you.’ + +Therewith he arose, and the folk made way for him and his Guests; and +Folk-might went on the right hand of Iron-face, and beside him went the +Chapman, who looked on him with a half-smile, as though he knew somewhat +of him. But on the other side of Iron-face went the Sun-beam, whose hand +he held, and after these came Face-of-god, leading in the rest of the +New-comers, who yet held the flowery branches in their hands. + +Now so much had Face-of-god told the Dalesmen, that they deemed they all +knew these men for their battle-fellows of whom they had heard tell; and +this the more as the men were so goodly and manly of aspect, especially +Folk-might, so that they seemed as if they were nigh akin to the Gods. +As for the Sun-beam, they knew not how to praise her beauty enough, but +they said that they had never known before how fair the Gods might be. +So they raised a great shout of welcome as the men came through the Gate +into the Burg, and all men turned their backs on the booths, so eager +were they to behold closely these new friends. + +But as the Guests went from the Gate to the House of the Face, going very +slowly because of the press, there in the front of the throng stood the +Bride with the women of the Runaways, whom she had caused to be clad very +fairly; and she was fain to do them a pleasure by bringing them to sight +of these new-comers, of whom she had not heard who they were, though she +had heard the cry that strangers were at hand. So there she stood +smiling a little with the pleasure of showing a fair sight to the poor +people, as folk do with children. But when she saw those twain going on +each side of the Alderman she knew them at once; and when the Sun-beam, +who was on his left side, passed so close to her that she could see the +very smoothness and dainty fashion of her skin, then was she astonied, +and the world seemed strange to her, and till they were gone by, and for +a while afterwards, she knew not where she was nor what she did, though +it seemed to her as if she still saw the face of that fair woman as in a +picture. + +But the Sun-beam had noted her at first, even amongst the fair women of +Burgstead, and she so steady and bright beside the wandering timorous +eyes and lowering faces of the thralls. But suddenly, as eye met eye, +she saw her face change; she saw her cheek whiten, her eyes stare, and +her lips quiver, and she knew at once who it was; for she had not seen +her before as Folk-might had. Then the Sun-beam cast her eyes adown, +lest her compassion might show in her face, and be a fresh grief to her +that had lost the wedding and the love; and so she passed on. + +As for Folk-might, he had seen her at once amongst all that folk as he +came into the street, and in sooth he was looking for her; and when he +saw her face change, as the sight of the Sun-beam smote upon her heart, +his own face burned with shame and anger, and he looked back at her as he +went toward the House. But she saw him not, nor noted him; and none +deemed it strange that he looked long on the Bride, the treasure of +Burgstead. But for some while Folk-might was few-spoken and sharp-spoken +amongst the chieftains; for he was slow to master his longing and his +wrath. + +So when all the Guests had entered the door of the House of the Face, the +Alderman turned back, and, standing on the threshold of his House, spake +unto the throng: + +‘Men of the Dale, and ye Outlanders who may be here, know that this is a +happy day; for hither have come to us Guests, men of the kindred of the +Gods, and they are even those of whom Face-of-god my son hath told you. +And they are friends of our friends and foes of our foes. These men are +now in my House, as is but right; but when they come forth I look to you +to cherish them in the best way ye know, and make much of them, as of +those who may help us and who may by us be holpen.’ + +Therewith he went in again and into the Hall, and bade show the +New-comers to the daïs; and wine of the best, and meat such as was to +hand, was set before them. He bade men also get ready high feast as +great as might be against the evening; and they did his bidding +straightway. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. THE ALDERMAN GIVES GIFTS TO THEM OF SHADOWY VALE. + + +IN the Hall of the Face Folk-might sat on the daïs at the right hand of +the Alderman, and the Sun-beam on his left hand. But Iron-face also had +beheld the Bride how her face changed, and he knew the cause, and was +grieved and angry and ashamed thereof: also he bethought him how this +stranger was sitting in the very place where the Bride used to sit, and +of all the love, as of a very daughter, that he had had for her; howbeit +he constrained himself to talk courteously and kindly both to Folk-might +and the Sun-beam, as behoved the Chief of the House and the Alderman of +the Dale. Moreover, he was not a little moved by the goodliness and +wisdom of the Sun-beam and the manliness of Folk-might, who was the most +chieftain-like of men. + +But while they sat there Face-of-god went from man to man of the Guests, +and made much of each, but especially of Wood-father and his sons and +Bow-may, and they loved him, and praised him, and deemed him the best of +hall-mates. Nor might the Sun-beam altogether refrain her from looking +lovingly on him, and it could be seen of her that she deemed he was doing +well, and like a wise leader and chieftain. + +So wore away awhile, and men were fulfilled of meat and drink; so then +the Alderman arose and spake, and said: + +‘Is it not so, Guests, that ye would now gladly behold our market, and +the goodly wares which the chapmen have brought us from the Cities?’ + +Then most men cried out: ‘Yea, yea!’ and Iron-face said: + +‘Then shall ye go, nor be holden by me from your pleasure. And ye +kinsmen who are the most guest-fain and the wisest, go ye with our +friends, and make all things easy and happy for them. But first of all, +Guests, I were well pleased if ye would take some small matters out of +our abundance; for it were well that ye see them ere ye stand before the +chapmen’s booths, lest ye chaffer with them for what ye have already.’ + +They all praised his bounty and thanked him for his goodwill: so he arose +to go to his treasury, and bade certain of his folk go along with him to +bear in the gifts. But ere he had taken three steps down the hall, +Face-of-god prevented him and said: + +‘Kinsman, if thou hast anywhere a hauberk somewhat better than folk are +wont to bear, such as thine own hand fashioneth, and a sword of the like +stuff, I would have thee give them, the sword to my brother-in-arms +Wood-wise here, and the war-coat to my sister Bow-may, who shooteth so +well in the bow that none may shoot closer, and very few as close; and +her shaft it was that delivered me when my skull was amongst the axes of +the Dusky Men: else had I not been here.’ + +Thereat Bow-may reddened and looked down, like a scholar who hath been +over-praised for his learning and diligence; but the Alderman smiled on +her and said: + +‘I thank thee, son, that thou hast let me know what these our two friends +may be fain of: and as for this damsel-at-arms, it is a little thing that +thou askest for her, and we might have found her something more worthy of +her goodliness; yet forsooth, since we are all bound for the place where +shafts and staves shall be good cheap, a greater treasure might be of +less avail to her.’ + +Thereat men laughed, and the Alderman went down the Hall with those +bearers of gifts, and was away for a space while they drank and made +merry: but presently back they came from the treasury bearing loads of +goodly things which were laid on one of the endlong boards. Then began +the gift-giving: and first he gave unto Folk-might six golden cups +marvellously fashioned, the work of four generations of wrights in the +Dale, and he himself had wrought the last two thereof. To Sun-beam he +gave a girdle of gold, fashioned with great mastery, whereon were images +of the Gods and the Fathers, and warriors, and beasts of the field and +fowls of the air; and as he girt it about her loins, he said in a soft +voice so that few heard: + +‘Sun-beam, thou fair woman, time has been when thou wert to us as the +edge of the poisonous sword or the midnight torch of the murderer; but +now I know not how it will be, or if the grief which thou hast given me +will ever wear out or not. And now that I have beheld thee, I have +little to do to blame my son; for indeed when I look on thee I cannot +deem that there is any evil in thee. Yea, however it may be, take thou +this gift as the reward of thine exceeding beauty.’ + +She looked on him with kind eyes, and said meekly: + +‘Indeed, if I have hurt thee unwittingly, I grieve to have hurt so good a +man. Hereafter belike we may talk more of this, but now I will but say, +that whereas at first I needed but to win thy son’s goodwill, so that our +Folk might come to life and thriving again, now it is come to this, that +he holdeth my heart in his hand and may do what he will with it; +therefore I pray thee withhold not thy love either from him or from me.’ + +He looked on her wondering, and said: ‘Thou art such an one as might make +the old man young, and the boy grow into manhood suddenly; and thy voice +is as sweet as the voice of the song-birds singing in the dawn of early +summer soundeth to him who hath been sick unto death, but who hath +escaped it and is mending. And yet I fear thee.’ + +Therewith he kissed her hand and turned unto the others, and he gave unto +Bow-may a hauberk of ring-mail of his own fashioning, a sure defence and +a wonderful work, and the collar thereof was done with gold and gems. + +But he said to her: ‘Fair damsel-at-arms, faithful is thy face, and the +fashion of thee is goodly: now art thou become one of the best of our +friends, and this is little enough to give thee; yet would we fain ward +thy body against the foeman; so grieve us not by gainsaying us.’ + +And Bow-may was exceeding glad, and scarce knew how to cease handling +that marvel of ring-mail. + +Then to Wood-wise Iron-face gave a most goodly sword, the blade all +marked with dark lines like the stream of an eddying river, the hilts of +steel and gold marvellously wrought; and all the work of a smith who had +dwelt in the house of his father’s father, and was a great warrior. + +Unto Wood-father he gave a very goodly helm parcel-gilded; and to his +sons and the other folk fair gifts of weapons and jewels and girdles and +cups and other good things; so that their hearts were full of joy, and +they all praised his open hand. + +Then some of the best and merriest of the kinsmen of the Face, and +Face-of-god with them, brought the Guests out into the street and among +the booths. There Face-of-god beheld the Bride again; and she was +standing by the booth of a chapman and dealing with him for a piece of +goodly silken cloth to be a gown for one of her guests, and she was +talking and smiling as she chaffered with him, as her wont was; for she +was ever very friendly of demeanour with all men. But he noted that she +was yet exceeding pale, and he was right sorry thereof, for he loved her +friendly; yet now had he no shame for all that had befallen, when he +bethought him of the Sun-beam and the love she had for him. And also he +had a deeming that the Bride would better of her grief. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. THE CHIEFTAINS TAKE COUNSEL IN THE HALL OF THE FACE. + + +THEN turned Face-of-god back into the Hall, and saw where Iron-face sat +at the daïs, and with him Folk-might and Stone-face and the Elder of the +Dale-wardens, and Sun-beam withal; so he went soberly up to the board, +and sat himself down thereat beside Stone-face, over against Folk-might +and his father, beside whom sat the Sun-beam; and Folk-might looked on +him gravely, as a man powerful and trustworthy, yet was his look somewhat +sour. + +Then the Alderman said: ‘My son, I said not to thee come back presently, +because I wotted that thou wouldst surely do so, knowing that we have +much to speak of. For, whatever these thy friends may have done, or +whatsoever thou hast done with them to grieve us, all that must be set +aside at this present time, since the matter in hand is to save the Dale +and its folk. What sayest thou hereon? Since, young as thou mayst be, +thou art our War-leader, and doubtless shalt so be after the Folk-mote +hath been holden.’ + +Face-of-god answered not hastily: indeed, as he sat thinking for a minute +or two, the fair spring day seemed to darken about them or to glare into +the light of flames amidst the night-tide; and the joyous clamour without +doors seemed to grow hoarse and fearful as the sound of wailing and +shrieking. But he spake firmly and simply in a clear voice, and said: + +‘There can be no two words concerning what we have to aim at; these Dusky +Men we must slay everyone, though we be fewer than they be.’ + +Folk-might smiled and nodded his head; but the others sat staring down +the hall or into the hangings. + +Then spake Folk-might: ‘Thou wert a boy methought when I cast my spear at +thee last autumn, Face-of-god, but now hast thou grown into a man. Now +tell me, what deemest thou we must do to slay them all?’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Once again it is clear that we must fall upon them at +home in Rose-dale and Silver-dale.’ + +Again Folk-might nodded: but Iron-face said: + +‘Needeth this? May we not ward the Dale and send many bands into the +wood to fall upon them when we meet them? Yea, and so doing these our +guests have already slain many, as this valiant man hath told me e’en +now. Will ye not slay so many at last, that they shall learn to fear us, +and abide at home and leave us at peace?’ + +But Face-of-god said: ‘Meseemeth, father, that this is not thy rede, and +that thou sayest this but to try me: and perchance ye have been talking +about me when I was without in the street e’en now. Even if it might be +that we should thus cow these felons into abiding at home and tormenting +their own thralls at their ease, yet how then are our friends of the Wolf +holpen to their own again? And I shall tell thee that I have promised to +this man and this woman that I will give them no less than a man’s help +in this matter. Moreover, I have spoken in every house of the Dale, and +to the Shepherds and the Woodlanders, and there is no man amongst them +but will follow me in the quarrel. Furthermore, they have heard of the +thralldom that is done on men no great way from their own houses; yea, +they have seen it; and they remember the old saw, “Grief in thy +neighbour’s hall is grief in thy garth,” and sure it is, father, that +whether thou or I gainsay them, go they will to deliver the thralls of +the Dusky Men, and will leave us alone in the Dale.’ + +‘This is no less than sooth,’ said the Dale-warden, ‘never have men gone +forth more joyously to a merry-making than all men of us shall wend to +this war.’ + +‘But,’ said Face-of-god, ‘of one thing ye may be sure, that these men +will not abide our pleasure till we cut them all off in scattered bands, +nor will they sit deedless at home. Nor indeed may they; for we have +heard from their thralls that they look to have fresh tribes of them come +to hand to eat their meat and waste their servants, and these and they +must find new abodes and new thralls; and they are now warned by the +overthrows and slayings that they have had at our hands that we are +astir, and they will not delay long, but will fall upon us with all their +host; it might even be to-day or to-morrow.’ + +Said Folk-might: ‘In all this thou sayest sooth, brother of the Dale; and +to cut this matter short, I will tell you all, that yesterday we had with +us a runaway from Silver-dale (it is overlong to tell how we fell in with +her; for it was a woman). But she told us that this very moon is a new +tribe come into the Dale, six long hundreds in number, and twice as many +more are looked for in two eights of days, and that ere this moon hath +waned, that is, in twenty-four days, they will wend their ways straight +for Burgdale, for they know the ways thereto. So I say that Face-of-god +is right in all wise. But tell me, brother, hast thou thought of how we +shall come upon these men?’ + +‘How many men wilt thou lead into battle?’ said Face-of-god. + +Folk-might reddened, and said: ‘A few, a few; maybe two-hundreds all +told.’ + +‘Yea,’ said Face-of-god, ‘but some special gain wilt thou be to us.’ + +‘So I deem at least,’ said Folk-might. + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Good is that. Now have we held our Weapon-show in the +Dale, and we find that we together with you be sixteen long hundreds of +men; and the tale of the foemen that be now in Silver-dale, new-comers +and all, shall be three thousands or thereabout, and in Rose-dale hard on +a thousand.’ + +‘Scarce so many,’ said Folk-might; ‘some of the felons have died; we told +over our silver arm-rings yesterday, and the tale was three hundred and +eighty and six. Besides, they were never so many as thou deemest.’ + +‘Well,’ said Face-of-god, ‘yet at least they shall outnumber us sorely. +We may scarce leave the Dale unguarded when our host is gone; therefore I +deem that we shall have but one thousand of men for our onslaught on +Silver-dale.’ + +‘How come ye to that?’ said Stone-face. + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Abide a while, fosterer! Though the odds between us +be great, it is not to be hidden that I wot how ye of the Wolf know of +privy passes into Silver-dale; yea, into the heart thereof; and this is +the special gain ye have to give us. Therefore we, the thousand men, +falling on the foe unawares, shall make a great slaughter of them; and if +the murder be but grim enough, those thralls of theirs shall fear us and +not them, as already they hate them and not us, so that we may look to +them for rooting out these sorry weeds after the overthrow. And what +with one thing, what with another, we may cherish a good hope of clearing +Silver-dale at one stroke with the said thousand men. + +‘There remaineth Rose-dale, which will be easier to deal with, because +the Dusky Men therein are fewer and the thralls as many: that also would +I fall on at the same time as we fall on Silver-dale with the men that +are left over from the Silver-dale onslaught. Wherefore my rede is, that +we gather all those unmeet for battle in the field into this Burg, with +ten tens of men to strengthen them; which shall be enough for them, along +with the old men, and lads, and sturdy women, to defend themselves till +help comes, if aught of evil befall, or to flee into the mountains, or at +the worst to die valiantly. Then let the other five hundreds fare up to +Rose-dale, and fall on the Dusky Men therein about the same time, but not +before our onslaught on Silver-dale: thus shall hand help foot, so that +stumbling be not falling; and we may well hope that our rede shall +thrive.’ + +Then was he silent, and the Sun-beam looked upon him with gleaming eyes +and parted lips, waiting eagerly to hear what Folk-might would say. He +held his peace a while, drumming on the board with his fingers, and none +else spake a word. At last he said: + +‘War-leader of Burgdale, all that thou hast spoken likes me well, and +even so must it be done, saving that parting of our host and sending one +part to fall upon Rose-dale. I say, nay; let us put all our might into +that one stroke on Silver-dale, and then we are undone indeed if we fail; +but so shall we be if we fail anywise; but if we win Silver-dale, then +shall Rose-dale lie open before us.’ + +‘My brother,’ said Face-of-god, ‘thou art a tried warrior, and I but a +lad: but dost thou not see this, that whatever we do, we shall not at one +onslaught slay all the Dusky Men of Silver-dale, and those that flee +before us shall betake them to Rose-dale, and tell all the tale, and what +shall hinder them then from falling on Burgdale (since they are no great +way from it) after they have murdered what they will of the unhappy +people under their hands?’ + +Said Folk-might: ‘I say not but that there is a risk thereof, but in war +we must needs run such risks, and all should be risked rather than that +our blow on Silver-dale be light. For we be the fewer; and if the foemen +have time to call that to mind, then are we all lost.’ + +Said Stone-face: ‘Meseemeth, War-leader, that there is nought much to +dread in leaving Rose-dale to itself for a while; for not only may we +follow hard on the fleers if they flee to Rose-dale, and be there no long +time after them, before they have time to stir their host; but also after +the overthrow we shall be free to send men back to Burgdale by way of +Shadowy Vale. I deem that herein Folk-might hath the right of it.’ + +‘Even so say I,’ said the Alderman; ‘besides, we might theft leave more +folk behind us for the warding of the Dale. So, son, the risk whereof +thou speakest groweth the lesser the longer it is looked on.’ + +Then spake the Dale-warden: ‘Yet saving your wisdom, Alderman, the risk +is there yet. For if these felons come into the Dale at all, even if the +folk left behind hold the Burg and keep themselves unmurdered, yet may +they not hinder the foe from spoiling our homesteads; so that our folk +coming back in triumph shall find ruin at home, and spend weary days in +hunting their foemen, who shall, many of them, escape into the +Wild-wood.’ + +‘Yea,’ said the Sun-beam, ‘sooth is that; and Face-of-god is wise to +think of it and of other matters. Yet one thing we must bear in mind, +that all may not go smoothly in our day’s work in Silver-dale; so we must +have force there to fall back on, in case we miss our stroke at first. +Therefore, I say, send we no man to Rose-dale, and leave we no able +man-at-arms behind in the Burg, so that we have with us every blade that +may be gathered.’ + +Iron-face smiled and said: ‘Thou art wise, damsel; and I marvel that so +fair-fashioned a thing as thou can think so hardly of the meeting of the +fallow blades. But hearken! will not the Dusky Men hear that we have +stripped the Dale of fighting-men, and may they not then give our host +the go-by and send folk to ruin us?’ + +There was silence while Face-of-god looked down on the board; but +presently he lifted up his face and said: + +‘Folk-might was right when he said that all must be risked. Let us leave +Rose-dale till we have overcome them of Silver-dale. Moreover, my +father, thou must not deem of these felons as if they were of like wits +to us, to forecast the deeds to come, and weigh the chances nicely, and +unravel tangled clews. Rather they move like to the stares in autumn, or +the winter wild-geese, and will all be thrust forward by some sting that +entereth into their imaginations. Therefore, if they have appointed one +moon to wear before they fall upon us, they will not stir till then, and +we have time enough to do what must be done. Wherefore am I now of one +mind with the rest of you. Now meseemeth it were well that these things +which we have spoken here, and shall speak, should not be noised abroad +openly; nay, at the Folk-mote it would be well that nought be said about +the day or the way of our onslaught on Silver-dale, lest the foe take +warning and be on their guard. Though, sooth to say, did I deem that if +they had word of our intent they of Rose-dale would join themselves to +them of Silver-dale, and that we should thus have all our foes in one +net, then were I fain if the word would reach them. For my soul loathes +the hunting that shall befall up and down the wood for the slaying of a +man here, and two or three there, and the wearing of the days in +wandering up and down with weapons in the hand, and the spinning out of +hatred and delaying of peace.’ + +Then Iron-face reached his hand across the board and took his son’s hand, +and said: + +‘Hail to thee, son, for thy word! Herein thou speakest as if from my +very soul, and fain am I of such a War-leader.’ + +And desire drew the eyes of the Sun-beam to Face-of-god, and she beheld +him proudly. But he said: + +‘All hath been spoken that the others of us may speak; and now it falleth +to the part of Folk-might to order our goings for the tryst for the +onslaught, and the trysting-place shall be in Shadowy Vale. How sayest +thou, Chief of the Wolf?’ + +Said Folk-might: ‘I have little to say; and it is for the War-leader to +see to this closely and piecemeal. I deem, as we all deem, that there +should be no delay; yet were it best to wend not all together to Shadowy +Vale, but in divers bands, as soon as ye may after the Folk-mote, by the +sure and nigh ways that we shall show you. And when we are gathered +there, short is the rede, for all is ready there to wend by the passes +which we know throughly, and whereby it is but two days’ journey to the +head of Silver-dale, nigh to the caves of the silver, where the felons +dwell the thickest.’ + +He set his teeth, and his colour came and went: for as constantly as the +onslaught had been in his mind, yet whenever he spake of the great day of +battle, hope and joy and anger wrought a tumult in his soul; and now that +it was so nigh withal, he could not refrain his joy. + +But he spake again: ‘Now therefore, War-leader, it is for thee to order +the goings of thy folk. But I will tell thee that they shall not need to +take aught with them save their weapons and victual for the way, that is, +for thirty hours; because all is ready for them in Shadowy Vale, though +it be but a poor place as to victual. Canst thou tell us, therefore, +what thou wilt do?’ + +Face-of-god had knit his brows and become gloomy of countenance; but now +his face cleared, and he set his hand to his pouch, and drew forth a +written parchment, and said: + +‘This is the order whereof I have bethought me. Before the Folk-mote I +and the Wardens shall speak to the leaders of hundreds, who be mostly +here at the Fair, and give them the day and the hour whereon they shall, +each hundred, take their weapons and wend to Shadowy Vale, and also the +place where they shall meet the men of yours who shall lead them across +the Waste. These hundred-leaders shall then go straightway and give the +word to the captains of scores, and the captains of scores to the +captains of tens; and if, as is scarce doubtful, the Folk-mote yea-says +the onslaught and the fellowship with you of the Wolf, then shall those +leaders of tens bring their men to the trysting-place, and so go their +ways to Shadowy Vale. Now here I have the roll of our Weapon-show, and I +will look to it that none shall be passed over; and if ye ask me in what +order they had best get on the way, my rede is that a two hundred should +depart on the very evening of the day of the Folk-mote, and these to be +of our folk of the Upper Dale; and on the morning of the morrow of the +Folk-mote another two hundreds from the Dale; and in the evening of the +same day the folk of the Shepherds, three hundreds or more, and that will +be easy to them; again on the next day two more bands of the Lower Dale, +one in the morning, one in the evening. Lastly, in the earliest dawn of +the third day from the Folk-mote shall the Woodlanders wend their ways. +But one hundred of men let us leave behind for the warding of the Burg, +even as we agreed before. As for the place of tryst for the faring over +the Waste, let it be the end of the knolls just by the jaws of the pass +yonder, where the Weltering Water comes into the Dale from the East. How +say ye?’ + +They all said, and Folk-might especially, that it was right well devised, +and that thus it should be done. + +Then turned Face-of-god to the Dale-warden, and said: + +‘It were good, brother, that we saw the other wardens as soon as may be, +to do them to wit of this order, and what they have to do.’ + +Therewith he arose and took the Elder of the Dale-wardens away with him, +and the twain set about their business straight-way. Neither did the +others abide long in the Hall, but went out into the Burg to see the +chapmen and their wares. There the Alderman bought what he needed of +iron and steel and other matters; and Folk-might cheapened him a dagger +curiously wrought, and a web of gold and silk for the Sun-beam, for which +wares he paid in silver arm-rings, new-wrought and of strange fashion. + +But amidst of the chaffer was now a great ring of men; and in the midst +of the ring stood Redesman, fiddle and bow in hand, and with him were +four damsels wondrously arrayed; for the first was clad in a smock so +craftily wrought with threads of green and many colours, that it seemed +like a piece of the green field beset with primroses and cowslips and +harebells and windflowers, rather than a garment woven and sewn; and in +her hand she bore a naked sword, with golden hilts and gleaming blade. +But the second bore on her roses done in like manner, both blossoms and +green leaves, wherewith her body was covered decently, which else had +been naked. The third was clad as though she were wading the wheat-field +to the waist, and above was wrapped in the leaves and bunches of the +wine-tree. And the fourth was clad in a scarlet gown flecked with white +wool to set forth the winter’s snow, and broidered over with the burning +brands of the Holy Hearth; and she bore on her head a garland of +mistletoe. And these four damsels were clearly seen to image the four +seasons of the year—Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. But amidst them +stood a fountain or conduit of gilded work cunningly wrought, and full of +the best wine of the Dale, and gilded cups and beakers hung about it. + +So now Redesman fell to caressing his fiddle with the bow till it began +to make sweet music, and therewith the hearts of all danced with it; and +presently words come into his mouth, and he fell to singing; and the +damsels answered him: + + Earth-wielders, that fashion the Dale-dwellers’ treasure, + Soft are ye by seeming, yet hardy of heart! + No warrior amongst us withstandeth your pleasure; + No man from his meadow may thrust you apart. + + Fresh and fair are your bodies, but far beyond telling + Are the years of your lives, and the craft ye have stored. + Come give us a word, then, concerning our dwelling, + And the days to befall us, the fruit of the sword. + + _Winter saith_: + + When last in the feast-hall the Yule-fire flickered, + The foot of no foeman fared over the snow, + And nought but the wind with the ash-branches bickered: + Next Yule ye may deem it a long time ago. + + _Autumn saith_: + + Loud laughed ye last year in the wheat-field a-smiting; + And ye laughed as your backs drave the beam of the press. + When the edge of the war-sword the acres are lighting + Look up to the Banner and laugh ye no less. + + _Summer saith_: + + Ye called and I came, and how good was the greeting, + When ye wrapped me in roses both bosom and side! + Here yet shall I long, and be fain of our meeting, + As hidden from battle your coming I bide. + + _Spring saith_: + + I am here for your comfort, and lo! what I carry; + The blade with the bright edges bared to the sun. + To the field, to the work then, that e’en I may tarry + For the end of the tale in my first days begun! + +Therewith the throng opened, and a young man stepped lightly into the +ring, clad in very fair armour, with a gilded helm on his head; and he +took the sword from the hand of the Maiden of Spring, and waved it in the +air till the westering sun flashed back from it. Then each of the four +damsels went up to the swain and kissed his mouth; and Redesman drew the +bow across the strings, and the four damsels sang together, standing +round about the young warrior: + + It was but a while since for earth’s sake we trembled, + Lest the increase our life-days had won for the Dale, + All the wealth that the moons and the years had assembled, + Should be but a mock for the days of your bale. + + But now we behold the sun smite on the token + In the hand of the Champion, the heart of a man; + We look down the long years and see them unbroken; + Forth fareth the Folk by the ways it began. + + So bid ye these chapmen in autumn returning, + To bring iron for ploughshares and steel for the scythe, + And the over-sea oil that hath felt the sun’s burning, + And fair webs for your women soft-spoken and blithe; + + And pledge ye your word in the market to meet them, + As many a man and as many a maid, + As eager as ever, as guest-fain to greet them, + And bide till the booth from the waggon is made. + + Come, guests of our lovers! for we, the year-wielders, + Bid each man and all to come hither and take + A cup from our hands midst the peace of our shielders, + And drink to the days of the Dale that we make. + +Then went the damsels to that wine-fountain, and drew thence cups of the +best and brightest wine of the Dale, and went round about the ring, and +gave drink to whomsoever would, both of the chapmen and the others; while +the weaponed youth stood in the midst bearing aloft his sword and shield +like an image in a holy place, and Redesman’s bow still went up and down +the strings, and drew forth a sweet and merry tune. + +Great game it was now to see the stark Burgdale carles dragging the Men +of the Plain, little loth, up to the front of the ring, that they might +stretch out their hands for a cup, and how many a one, as he took it, +took as much as he might of the damsel’s hand withal. As for the +damsels, they played the Holy Play very daintily, neither reddening nor +laughing, but faring so solemnly, and withal so sweetly and bright-faced, +that it might well have been deemed that they were in very sooth Maidens +of the God of Earth sent from the ever-enduring Hall to cheer the hearts +of men. + +So simply and blithely did the Men of Burgdale disport them after the +manner of their fathers, trusting in their valour and beholding the good +days to be. + +So wore the evening, and when night was come, men feasted throughout the +Burg from house to house, and every hall was full. But the Guests from +Shadowy Vale feasted in the Hall of the Face in all glee and goodwill; +and with them were the chief of the chapmen and two others; but the rest +of them had been laid hold of by goodmen of the Burg, and dragged into +their feast-halls, for they were fain of those guests and their tales. +One of the chapmen in the House of the Face knew Folk-might, and hailed +him by the name he had borne in the Cities, Regulus to wit; indeed, the +chief chapman knew him, and even somewhat over-well, for he had been held +to ransom by Folk-might in those past days, and even yet feared him, +because he, the chapman, had played somewhat of a dastard’s part to him. +But the other was an open-hearted and merry fellow, and no weakling; and +Folk-might was fain of his talk concerning times bygone, and the fields +they had foughten in, and other adventures that had befallen them, both +good and evil. + +As for Face-of-god, he went about the Hall soberly, and spake no more +than behoved him, so as not to seem a mar-feast; for the image of the +slaughter to be yet abode with him, and his heart foreboded the +after-grief of the battle. He had no speech with the Sun-beam till men +were sundering after the feast, and then he came close to her amidst of +the turmoil, and said: + +‘Time presses on me these days; but if thou wouldest speak with me +to-morrow as I would with thee, then mightest thou go on the Bridge of +the Burg about sunrise, and I will be there, and we two only.’ + +Her face, which had been somewhat sad that evening (for she had been +watching his), brightened at that word, and she took his hand as folk +came thronging round about them, and said: + +‘Yea, friend, I shall be there, and fain of thee.’ And therewithal they +sundered for that night. + +And all men went to sleep throughout the Burg: howbeit they set a watch +at the Burg-Gate; and Hall-face, when he was coming back from the +woodland ward about sunset, fell in with Redcoat of Waterless and four +score men on the Portway coming to meet him and take his place. All +which was clean contrary to the wont of the Burgdalers, who at most +whiles held no watch and ward, not even in Fair-time. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. FACE-OF-GOD TALKETH WITH THE SUN-BEAM. + + +FACE-OF-GOD was at the Bridge on the morrow before sun-rising, and as he +turned about at the Bridge-foot he saw the Sun-beam coming down the +street; and his heart rose to his mouth at the sight of her, and he went +to meet her and took her by the hand; and there were no words between +them till they had kissed and caressed each other, for there was no one +stirring about them. So they went over the Bridge into the meadows, and +eastward of the beaten path thereover. + +The grass was growing thick and strong, and it was full of flowers, as +the cowslip and the oxlip, and the chequered daffodil, and the wild +tulip: the black-thorn was well-nigh done blooming, but the hawthorn was +in bud, and in some places growing white. It was a fair morning, warm +and cloudless, but the night had been misty, and the haze still hung +about the meadows of the Dale where they were wettest, and the grass and +its flowers were heavy with dew, so that the Sun-beam went barefoot in +the meadow. She had a dark cloak cast over her kirtle, and had left her +glittering gown behind her in the House. + +They went along hand in hand exceeding fain of each other, and the sun +rose as they went, and the long beams of gold shone through the tops of +the tall trees across the grass they trod, and a light wind rose up in +the north, as Face-of-god stayed a moment and turned toward the Face of +the Sun and prayed to Him, while the Sun-beam’s hand left the +War-leader’s hand and stole up to his golden locks and lay amongst them. + +Presently they went on, and the feet of Face-of-god led him unwitting +toward the chestnut grove by the old dyke where he had met the Bride such +a little while ago, till he bethought whither he was going and stopped +short and reddened; and the Sun-beam noted it, but spake not; but he +said: ‘Hereby is a fair place for us to sit and talk till the day’s work +beginneth.’ + +So then he turned aside, and soon they came to a hawthorn brake out of +which arose a great tall-stemmed oak, showing no green as yet save a +little on its lower twigs; and anigh it, yet with room for its boughs to +grow freely, was a great bird-cherry tree, all covered now with +sweet-smelling white blossoms. There they sat down on the trunk of a +tree felled last year, and she cast off her cloak, and took his face +between her two hands and kissed him long and fondly, and for a while +their joy had no word. But when speech came to them, it was she that +spake first and said: + +‘Gold-mane, my dear, sorely I wonder at thee and at me, how we are +changed since that day last autumn when I first saw thee. Whiles I +think, didst thou not laugh when thou wert by thyself that day, and mock +at me privily, that I must needs take such wisdom on myself, and lesson +thee standing like a stripling before me. Dost thou not call it all to +mind and make merry over it, now that thou art become a great chieftain +and a wise warrior, and I am yet what I always was, a young maiden of the +kindred; save that now I abide no longer for my love?’ + +Her face was exceeding bright and rippled with joyous smiles, and he +looked at her and deemed that her heart was overflowing with happiness, +and he wondered at her indeed that she was so glad of him, and he said: + +‘Yea, indeed, oft do I see that morning in the woodland hall and thee and +me therein, as one looketh on a picture; yea verily, and I laugh, yet is +it for very bliss; neither do I mock at all. Did I not deem thee a God +then? and am I not most happy now when I can call it thus to mind? And +as to thee, thou wert wise then, and yet art thou wise now. Yea, I +thought thee a God; and if we are changed, is it not rather that thou +hast lifted me up to thee, and not come down to me?’ + +Yet therewithal he knit his brows somewhat and said: + +‘Yet thou hast not to tell me that all thy love for thy Folk, and thy +yearning hope for its recoverance, was but a painted show. Else why +shouldst thou love me the better now that I am become a chieftain, and +therefore am more meet to understand thy hope and thy sorrow? Did I not +behold thee as we stood before the Wolf of the Hall of Shadowy Vale, how +the tears stood in thine eyes as thou beheldest him, and thine hand in +mine quivered and clung to me, and thou wert all changed in a moment of +time? Was all this then but a seeming and a beguilement?’ + +‘O young man,’ she said, ‘hast thou not said it, that we stood there +close together, and my hand in thine and desire growing up in me? Dost +thou not know how this also quickeneth the story of our Folk, and our +goodwill towards the living, and remembrance of the dead? Shall they +have lived and desired, and we deny desire and life? Or tell me: what +was it made thee so chieftain-like in the Hall yesterday, so that thou +wert the master of all our wills, for as self-willed as some of us were? +Was it not that I, whom thou deemest lovely, was thereby watching thee +and rejoicing in thee? Did not the sweetness of thy love quicken thee? +Yet because of that was thy warrior’s wisdom and thy foresight an empty +show? Heedest thou nought the Folk of the Dale? Wouldest thou sunder +from the children of the Fathers, and dwell amongst strangers?’ + +He kissed her and smiled on her and said: ‘Did I not say of thee that +thou wert wiser than the daughters of men? See how wise thou hast made +me!’ + +She spake again: ‘Nay, nay, there was no feigning in my love for my +people. How couldest thou think it, when the Fathers and the kindred +have made this body that thou lovest, and the voice of their songs is in +the speech thou deemest sweet?’ + +He said: ‘Sweet friend, I deemed not that there was feigning in thee: I +was but wondering what I am and how I was fashioned, that I should make +thee so glad that thou couldst for a while forget thy hope of the days +before we met.’ + +She said: ‘O how glad, how glad! Yet was I nought hapless. In despite +of all trouble I had no down-weighing grief, and I had the hope of my +people before me. Good were my days; but I knew not till now how glad a +child of man may be.’ + +Their words were hushed for a while amidst their caresses. Then she +said: + +‘Gold-mane, my friend, I mocked not my past self because I deem that I +was a fool then, but because I see now that all that my wisdom could do, +would have come about without my wisdom; and that thou, deeming thyself +something less than wise, didst accomplish the thing I craved, and that +which thou didst crave also; and withal wisdom embraced thee, along with +love.’ + +Therewith she cast her arms about him and said: + +‘O friend, I mock myself of this: that erst thou deemedst me a God and +fearedst me, but now thou seemest to me to be a God, and I fear thee. +Yea, though I have longed so sore to be with thee since the day of +Shadowy Vale, and though I have wearied of the slow wearing of the days, +and it hath tormented me; yet now that I am with thee, I bless the +torment of my longing; for it is but my longing that compelleth me to +cast away my fear of thee and caress thee, because I have learned how +sweet it is to love thee thus.’ + +He wound his arms about her, and sweeter was their longing than mere joy; +and though their love was beyond measure, yet was therein no shame to +aught, not even to the lovely Dale and that fair season of spring, so +goodly they were among the children of men. + +In a while they arose and turned homeward, and went over the open meadow, +and it was yet early, and the dew was as heavy on the grass as before, +though the wide sunlight was now upon it, glittering on the wet blades, +and shining through the bells of the chequered daffodils till they looked +like gouts of blood. + +‘Look,’ said Sun-beam, as they went along by the same way whereas they +came, ‘deemest thou not that other speech-friends besides us have been +abroad to talk together apart on this morning of the eve of battle. It +is nought unwonted, that we do, even though we forget the trouble of the +people to think of our own joy for a while.’ + +The smile died out of her face as she spoke, and she said: + +‘O friend, this much may I say for myself in all sooth, that indeed I +would die for the kindred and its good days, nor falter therein; but if I +am to die, might I but die in thine arms!’ + +He looked very lovingly on her, and put his arm about her and kissed her +and said: ‘What ails us to stand in the doom-ring and bear witness +against ourselves before the kindred? Now I will say, that whatsoever +the kindred may or can call upon me to do, that will I do, nor grudge the +deed: I am sackless before them. But that is true which I spake to thee +when we came together up out of Shadowy Vale, to wit, that I am no +strifeful man, but a peaceful; and I look to it to win through this war, +and find on the other side either death, or life amongst a happy folk; +and I deem that this is mostly the mind of our people.’ + +She said: ‘Thou shalt not die, thou shalt not die!’ + +‘Mayhappen not,’ he said; ‘yet yesterday I could not but look into the +slaughter to come, and it seemed to me a grim thing, and darkened the day +for me; and I grew acold as a man walking with the dead. But tell me: +thou sayest I shall not die; dost thou say this only because I am become +dear to thee, or dost thou speak it out of thy foresight of things to +come?’ + +She stopped and looked silently a while over the meadows towards the +houses of the Thorp: they were standing now on the border of a shallow +brook that ran down toward the Weltering Water; it had a little strand of +fine sand like the sea-shore, driven close together, and all moist, +because that brook was used to flood the meadow for the feeding of the +grass; and the last evening the hatches which held up the water had been +drawn, so that much had ebbed away and left the strand aforesaid. + +After a while the Sun-beam turned to Face-of-god, and she was become +somewhat pale; she said: + +‘Nay, I have striven to see, and can see nought save the picture of hope +and fear that I make for myself. So it oft befalleth foreseeing women, +that the love of a man cloudeth their vision. Be content, dear friend; +it is for life or death; but whichso it be, the same for me and thee +together?’ + +‘Yea,’ he said, ‘and well content I am; so now let each of us trust in +the other to be both good and dear, even as I trusted in thee the first +hour that I looked on thee.’ + +‘It is well,’ she said; ‘it is well. How fair thou art; and how fair is +the morn, and this our Dale in the goodly season; and all this abideth us +when the battle is over.’ + +Once more her voice became sweet and wheedling, and the smile lit up her +face again, and she pointed down to the sand with her finger, and said: + +‘See thou! Here indeed have other lovers passed by across the brook. +Shall we wish them good luck?’ + +He laughed and looked down on the sand, and said: + +‘Thou art in haste to make a story up. Indeed I see that these first +footprints are of a woman, for no carle of the Dale has a foot as small; +for we be tall fellows; and these others withal are a man’s footprints; +and if they showed that they had been walking side by side, simple had +been thy tale; but so it is not. I cannot say that these two pairs of +feet went over the brook within five minutes of each other; but sure it +is that they could not have been faring side by side. Well, belike they +were lovers bickering, and we may wish them luck out of that. Truly it +is well seen that Bow-may hath done thine hunting for thee, dear friend; +or else wouldest thou have lacked venison; for thou hast no hunter’s +eye.’ + +‘Well,’ she said, ‘but wish them luck, and give me thine hand upon it.’ + +He took her hand, and fondled it, and said: ‘By this hand of my +speech-friend, I wish these twain all luck, in love and in leisure, in +faring and fighting, in sowing and samming, in getting and giving. Is it +well enough wished? If so it be, then come thy ways, dear friend; for +the day’s work is at hand.’ + +‘It is well wished,’ she said. ‘Now hearken: by the valiant hand of the +War-leader, by the hand that shall unloose my girdle, I wish these twain +to be as happy as we be.’ + +He made as if to draw her away, but she hung aback to set the print of +her foot beside the woman’s foot, and then they went on together, and +soon crossed the Bridge, and came home to the House of the Face. + +When they had broken their fast, Face-of-god would straight get to his +business of ordering matters for the warfare, and was wishful to speak +with Folk-might; but found him not, either in the House or the street. +But a man said: + +‘I saw the tall Guest come abroad from the House and go toward the Bridge +very early in the morning.’ + +The Sun-beam, who was anigh when that was spoken, heard it and smiled, +and said: ‘Gold-mane, deemest thou that it was my brother whom we +blessed?’ + +‘I wot not,’ he said; ‘but I would he were here, for this gear must +speedily be looked to.’ + +Nevertheless it was nigh an hour before Folk-might came home to the +House. He strode in lightly and gaily, and shaking the crest of his +war-helm as he went. He looked friendly on Face-of-god, and said to him: + +‘Thou hast been seeking me, War-leader; but grudge it not that I have +caused thee to tarry. For as things have gone, I am twice the man for +thine helping that I was yester-eve; and thou art so ready and deft, that +all will be done in due time.’ + +He looked as if he would have had Face-of-god ask of him what made him so +fain, but Face-of-god said only: + +‘I am glad of thy gladness; but now let us dally no longer, for I have +many folk to see to-day and much to set a-going.’ + +So therewith they spake together a while, and then went their ways +together toward Carlstead and the Woodlanders. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. FOLK-MIGHT SPEAKETH WITH THE BRIDE. + + +IT must be told that those footprints which Face-of-god and the Sun-beam +had blessed betwixt jest and earnest had more to do with them than they +wotted of. For Folk-might, who had had many thoughts and longings since +he had seen the Bride again, rose up early about sunrise, and went +out-a-doors, and wandered about the Burg, letting his eyes stray over the +goodly stone houses and their trim gardens, yet noting them little, since +the Bride was not there. + +At last he came to where there was an open place, straight-sided, longer +than it was wide, with a wall on each side of it, over which showed the +blossomed boughs of pear and cherry and plum-trees: on either hand before +the wall was a row of great lindens, now showing their first tender +green, especially on their lower twigs, where they were sheltered by the +wall. At the nether end of this place Folk-might saw a grey stone house, +and he went towards it betwixt the lindens, for it seemed right great, +and presently was but a score of paces from its door, and as yet there +was no man, carle or queen, stirring about it. + +It was a long low house with a very steep roof; but belike the hall was +built over some undercroft, for many steps went up to the door on either +hand; and the doorway was low, with a straight lintel under its arch. +This house, like the House of the Face, seemed ancient and somewhat +strange, and Folk-might could not choose but take note of it. The front +was all of good ashlar work, but it was carven all over, without heed +being paid to the joints of the stones, into one picture of a flowery +meadow, with tall trees and bushes in it, and fowl perched in the trees +and running through the grass, and sheep and kine and oxen and horses +feeding down the meadow; and over the door at the top of the stair was +wrought a great steer bigger than all the other neat, whose head was +turned toward the sun-rising and uplifted with open mouth, as though he +were lowing aloud. Exceeding fair seemed that house to Folk-might, and +as though it were the dwelling of some great kindred. + +But he had scarce gone over it with his eyes, and was just about to draw +nigher yet to it, when the door at the top of those steps opened, and a +woman came out of the house clad in a green kirtle and a gown of brazil, +with a golden-hilted sword girt to her side. Folk-might saw at once that +it was the Bride, and drew aback behind one of the trees so that she +might not see him, if she had not already seen him, as it seemed not that +she had, for she stayed but for a moment on the top of the stair, looking +out down the tree-rows, and then came down the stair and went soberly +along the road, passing so close to Folk-might that he could see the +fashion of her beauty closely, as one looks into the work of some deftest +artificer. Then it came suddenly into his head that he would follow her +and see whither she was wending. ‘At least,’ said he to himself, ‘if I +come not to speech with her, I shall be nigh unto her, and shall see +somewhat of her beauty.’ + +So he came out quietly from behind the tree, and followed her softly; and +he was clad in no garment save his kirtle, and bare no weapons to clash +and jingle, though he had his helm on his head for lack of a softer hat. +He kept her well in sight, and she went straight onward and looked not +back. She went by the way whereas he had come, till they were in the +main street, wherein as yet was no one afoot; she made her way to the +Bridge, and passed over it into the meadows; but when she had gone but a +few steps, she stayed a little and looked on the ground, and as she did +so turned a little toward Folk-might, who had drawn back into the last of +the refuges over the up-stream buttresses. He saw that there was a +half-smile on her face, but he could not tell whether she were glad or +sorry. A light wind was beginning to blow, that stirred her raiment and +raised a lock of hair that had strayed from the golden fillet round about +her head, and she looked most marvellous fair. + +Now she looked along the grass that glittered under the beams of the +newly-risen sun, and noted belike how heavy the dew lay on it; and the +grass was high already, for the spring had been hot, and haysel would be +early in the Dale. So she put off her shoes, that were of deerskin and +broidered with golden threads, and turned somewhat from the way, and hung +them up amidst the new green leaves of a hawthorn bush that stood nearby, +and so went thwart the meadow somewhat eastward straight from that bush, +and her feet shone out like pearls amidst the deep green grass. + +Folk-might followed presently, and she stayed not again, nor turned, nor +beheld him; he recked not if she had, for then would he have come up with +her and hailed her, and he knew that she was no foolish maiden to start +at the sight of a man who was the friend of her Folk. + +So they went their ways till she came to the strand of the water-meadow +brook aforesaid, and she went through the little ripples of the shallow +without staying, and on through the tall deep grass of the meadow beyond, +to where they met the brook again; for it swept round the meadow in a +wide curve, and turned back toward itself; so it was some half furlong +over from water to water. + +She stood a while on the brink of the brook here, which was brim-full and +nigh running into the grass, because there was a dam just below the +place; and Folk-might drew nigher to her under cover of the thorn-bushes, +and looked at the place about her and beyond her. The meadow beyond +stream was very fair and flowery, but not right great; for it was bounded +by a grove of ancient chestnut trees, that went on and on toward the +southern cliffs of the Dale: in front of the chestnut wood stood a broken +row of black-thorn bushes, now growing green and losing their blossom, +and he could see betwixt them that there was a grassy bank running along, +as if there had once been a turf-wall and ditch round about the chestnut +trees. For indeed this was the old place of tryst between Gold-mane and +the Bride, whereof the tale hath told before. + +The Bride stayed scarce longer than gave him time to note all this; but +he deemed that she was weeping, though he could not rightly see her face; +for her shoulders heaved, and she hung her face adown and put up her +hands to it. But now she went a little higher up the stream, where the +water was shallower, and waded the stream and went up over the meadow, +still weeping, as he deemed, and went between the black-thorn bushes, and +sat her down on the grassy bank with her back to the chestnut trees. + +Folk-might was ashamed to have seen her weeping, and was half-minded to +turn him back again at once; but love constrained him, and he said to +himself, ‘Where shall I see her again privily if I pass by this time and +place?’ So he waited a little till he deemed she might have mastered the +passion of tears, and then came forth from his bush, and went down to the +water and crossed it, and went quietly over the meadow straight towards +her. But he was not half-way across, when she lifted up her face from +between her hands and beheld the man coming. She neither started nor +rose up; but straightened herself as she sat, and looked right into +Folk-might’s eyes as he drew near, though the tears were not dry on her +cheeks. + +Now he stood before her, and said: ‘Hail to the Daughter of a mighty +House! Mayst thou live happy!’ + +She answered: ‘Hail to thee also, Guest of our Folk! Hast thou been +wandering about our meadows, and happened on me perchance?’ + +‘Nay,’ he said; ‘I saw thee come forth from the House of the Steer, and I +followed thee hither.’ + +She reddened a little, and knit her brow, and said: + +‘Thou wilt have something to say to me?’ + +‘I have much to say to thee,’ he said; ‘yet it was sweet to me to behold +thee, even if I might not speak with thee.’ + +She looked on him with her deep simple eyes, and neither reddened again, +nor seemed wroth; then she said: + +‘Speak what thou hast in thine heart, and I will hearken without anger +whatsoever it may be; even if thou hast but to tell me of the passing +folly of a mighty man, which in a month or two he will not remember for +sorrow or for joy. Sit here beside me, and tell me thy thought.’ + +So he sat him adown and said: ‘Yea, I have much to say to thee, but it is +hard to me to say it. But this I will say: to-day and yesterday make the +third time I have seen thee. The first time thou wert happy and calm, +and no shadow of trouble was on thee; the second time thine happy days +were waning, though thou scarce knewest it; but to-day and yesterday thou +art constrained by the bonds of grief, and wouldest loosen them if thou +mightest.’ + +She said: ‘What meanest thou? How knowest thou this? How may a stranger +partake in my joy and my sorrow?’ + +He said: ‘As for yesterday, all the people might see thy grief and know +it. But when I beheld thee the first time, I saw thee that thou wert +more fair and lovely than all other women; and when I was away from thee, +the thought of thee and thine image were with me, and I might not put +them away; and oft at such and such a time I wondered and said to myself, +what is she doing now? though god wot I was dealing with tangles and +troubles and rough deeds enough. But the second time I beheld thee, when +I had looked to have great joy in the sight of thee, my heart was smitten +with a pang of grief; for I saw thee hanging on the words and the looks +of another man, who was light-minded toward thee, and that thou wert +troubled with the anguish of doubt and fear. And he knew it not, nor saw +it, though I saw it.’ + +Her face grew troubled, and the tearful passion stirred within her. But +she held it aback, and said, as anyone might have said it: + +‘How wert thou in the Dale, mighty man? We saw thee not.’ + +He said: ‘I came hither hidden in other semblance than mine own. But +meddle not therewith; it availeth nought. Let me say this, and do thou +hearken to it. I saw thee yesterday in the street, and thou wert as the +ghost of thine old gladness; although belike thou hast striven with +sorrow; for I see thee with a sword by thy side, and we have been told +that thou, O fairest of women, hast given thyself to the Warrior to be +his damsel.’ + +‘Yea,’ she said, ‘that is sooth.’ + +He went on: ‘But the face which thou bearedst yesterday against thy will, +amidst all the people, that was because thou hadst seen my sister the +Sun-beam for the first time, and Face-of-god with her, hand clinging to +hand, lip longing for lip, desire unsatisfied, but glad with all hope.’ + +She laid hand upon hand in the lap of her gown, and looked down, and her +voice trembled as she said: + +‘Doth it avail to talk of this?’ + +He said: ‘I know not: it may avail; for I am grieved, and shall be whilst +thou art grieved; and it is my wont to strive with my griefs till I amend +them.’ + +She turned to him with kind eyes and said: + +‘O mighty man, canst thou clear away the tangle which besetteth the soul +of her whose hope hath bewrayed her? Canst thou make hope grow up in her +heart? Friend, I will tell thee that when I wed, I shall wed for the +sake of the kindred, hoping for no joy therein. Yea, or if by some +chance the desire of man came again into my heart, I should strive with +it to rid myself of it, for I should know of it that it was but a wasting +folly, that should but beguile me, and wound me, and depart, leaving me +empty of joy and heedless of life.’ + +He shook his head and said: ‘Even so thou deemest now; but one day it +shall be otherwise. Or dost thou love thy sorrow? I tell thee, as it +wears thee and wears thee, thou shalt hate it, and strive to shake it +off.’ + +‘Nay, nay,’ she said; ‘I love it not; for not only it grieveth me, but +also it beateth me down and belittleth me.’ + +‘Good is that,’ said he. ‘I know how strong thine heart is. Now, wilt +thou take mine hand, which is verily the hand of thy friend, and remember +what I have told thee of my grief which cannot be sundered from thine? +Shall we not talk more concerning this? For surely I shall soon see thee +again, and often; since the Warrior, who loveth me belike, leadeth thee +into fellowship with me. Yea, I tell thee, O friend, that in that +fellowship shalt thou find both the seed of hope, and the sun of desire +that shall quicken it.’ + +Therewith he arose and stood before her, and held out to her his hand all +hardened with the sword-hilt, and she took it, and stood up facing him, +and said: + +‘This much will I tell thee, O friend; that what I have said to thee this +hour, I thought not to have said to any man; or to talk with a man of the +grief that weareth me, or to suffer him to see my tears; and marvellous I +deem it of thee, for all thy might, that thou hast drawn this speech from +out of me, and left me neither angry nor ashamed, in spite of these +tears; and thou whom I have known not, though thou knewest me! + +‘But now it were best that thou depart, and get thee home to the House of +the Face, where I was once so frequent; for I wot that thou hast much to +do; and as thou sayest, it will be in warfare that I shall see thee. Now +I thank thee for thy words and the thought thou hast had of me, and the +pain which thou hast taken to heal my hurt: I thank thee, I thank thee, +for as grievous as it is to show one’s hurts even to a friend.’ + +He said: ‘O Bride, I thank thee for hearkening to my tale; and one day +shall I thank thee much more. Mayest thou fare well in the Field and +amidst the Folk!’ + +Therewith he kissed her hand, and turned away, and went across the meadow +and the stream, glad at heart and blithe with everyone; for kindness grew +in him as gladness grew. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. OF THE FOLK-MOTE OF THE DALESMEN, THE SHEPHERD-FOLK, AND +THE WOODLAND CARLES: THE BANNER OF THE WOLF DISPLAYED. + + +NOW came the day of the Great Folk-mote, and there was much thronging +from everywhere to the Mote-stead, but most from Burgstead itself, +whereas few of the Dale-dwellers who had been at the Fair had gone back +home. Albeit some of the Shepherds and of the Dalesmen of the +westernmost Dale had brought light tents, and tilted themselves in in the +night before the Mote down in the meadows below the Mote-stead. From +early morning there had been a stream of folk on the Portway setting +westward; and many came thus early that they might hold converse with +friends and well-wishers; and some that they might disport them in the +woods. Men went in no ordered bands, as the Burgstead men at least had +done on the day of the Weapon-show, save that a few of them who were +arrayed the bravest gathered about the banners, and went with them to the +Mote-stead; for all the banners must needs be there. + +The Folk-mote was to be hallowed-in three hours before noon, as all men +knew; therefore an hour before that time were all men of the Dale and the +Shepherds assembled that might be looked for, save the Alderman and the +chieftains with the banner of the Burg, and these were not like to come +many minutes before the Hallowing. Folk were gathered on the Field in +such wise, that the men-at-arms made a great ring round about the +Doom-ring, (albeit there were many old men there, girt with swords that +they should never heave up again in battle), so that without that ring +there was nought save women and children. But when all the other Houses +were assembled, men looked around, and beheld the place of the +Woodlanders that it was empty; and they marvelled that they were thus +belated. For now all was ready, and a watcher had gone up to the Tower +on the height, and had with him the great Horn of Warning, which could be +heard past the Mote-stead and a great way down the Dale: and if he saw +foes coming from the East he should blow one blast; if from the South, +two; if from the West, three; if from the North, four. + +So half an hour from the appointed time of Hallowing rose the rumour that +the Alderman was on the road, and presently they of the women who were on +the outside of the throng, by drawing nigh to the edge of the sheer rock, +could behold the Banner of the Burg on the Portway, and soon after could +see the wain, done about with green boughs, wherein sat the chieftains in +their glittering war-gear. Speedily they spread the tidings, and a +confused shout went up into the air; and in a little while the wain +stayed on Wildlake’s Way at the bottom of the steep slope that went up to +the Mote-stead, and the banner of the Burg came on proudly up the hill. +Soon all men beheld it, and saw that the tall Hall-face bore it in front +of his brother Face-of-god, who came on gleaming in war-gear better than +most men had seen; which was indeed of his father’s fashioning, and his +father’s gift to him that morning. + +After Face-of-god came the Alderman, and with him Folk-might leading the +Sun-beam by the hand, and then Stone-face and the Elder of the +Dale-wardens; and then the six Burg-wardens: as to the other +Dale-wardens, they were in their places on the Field. + +So now those who had been standing up turned their faces toward the Altar +of the Gods, and those who had been sitting down sprang to their feet, +and the confused rumour of the throng rose into a clear shout as the +chieftains went to their places, and sat them down on the turf-seats +amidst the Doom-ring facing the Speech-hill and the Altar of the Gods. +Amidmost sat the Alderman, on his right hand Face-of-god, and out from +him Hall-face, and then Stone-face and three of the Wardens; but on his +left hand sat first the two Guests, then the Elder of the Dale-wardens, +and then the other three Burg-wardens; as for the Banner of the Burg, its +staff was stuck into the earth behind them, and the Banner raised itself +in the morning wind and flapped and rippled over their heads. + +There then they sat, and folk abided, and it still lacked some minutes of +the due time, as the Alderman wotted by the shadow of the great +standing-stone betwixt him and the Altar. Therewithal came the sound of +a great horn from out of the wood on the north side, and men knew it for +the horn of the Woodland Carles, and were glad; for they could not think +why they should be belated; and now men stood up a-tiptoe and on other’s +shoulders to look over the heads of the women and children to behold +their coming; but their empty place was at the southwest corner of the +ring of men. + +So presently men beheld them marching toward their place, cleaving the +throng of the women and children, a great company; for besides that they +had with them two score more of men under weapons than on the day of the +Weapon-show, all their little ones and women and outworn elders were with +them, some on foot, some riding on oxen and asses. In their forefront +went the two signs of the Battle-shaft and the War-spear. But moreover, +in front of all was borne a great staff with the cloth of a banner +wrapped round about it, and tied up with a hempen yarn that it might not +be seen. + +Stark and mighty men they looked; tall and lean, broad-shouldered, +dark-faced. As they came amongst the throng the voice of their horn died +out, and for a few moments they fared on with no sound save the tramp of +their feet; then all at once the man who bare the hidden banner lifted up +one hand, and straightway they fell to singing, and with that song they +came to their place. And this is some of what they sang: + + O white, white Sun, what things of wonder + Hast thou beheld from thy wall of the sky! + All the Roofs of the Rich and the grief thereunder, + As the fear of the Earl-folk flitteth by! + + Thou hast seen the Flame steal forth from the Forest + To slay the slumber of the lands, + As the Dusky Lord whom thou abhorrest + Clomb up to thy Burg unbuilt with hands. + + Thou lookest down from thy door the golden, + Nor batest thy wide-shining mirth, + As the ramparts fall, and the roof-trees olden + Lie smouldering low on the burning earth. + + When flitteth the half-dark night of summer + From the face of the murder great and grim, + ’Tis thou thyself and no new-comer + Shines golden-bright on the deed undim. + + Art thou our friend, O Day-dawn’s Lover? + Full oft thine hand hath sent aslant + Bright beams athwart the Wood-bear’s cover, + Where the feeble folk and the nameless haunt. + + Thou hast seen us quail, thou hast seen us cower, + Thou hast seen us crouch in the Green Abode, + While for us wert thou slaying slow hour by hour, + And smoothing down the war-rough road. + + Yea, the rocks of the Waste were thy Dawns upheaving, + To let the days of the years go through; + And thy Noons the tangled brake were cleaving + The slow-foot seasons’ deed to do. + + Then gaze adown on this gift of our giving, + For the WOLF comes wending frith and ford, + And the Folk fares forth from the dead to the living, + For the love of the Lief by the light of the Sword. + +Then ceased the song, and the whole band of the Woodlanders came pouring +tumultuously into the space allotted them, like the waters pouring over a +river-dam, their white swords waving aloft in the morning sunlight; and +wild and strange cries rose up from amidst them, with sobbing and weeping +of joy. But soon their troubled front sank back into ordered ranks, +their bright blades stood upright in their hands before them, and folk +looked on their company, and deemed it the very Terror of battle and +Render of the ranks of war. Right well were they armed; for though many +of their weapons were ancient and somewhat worn, yet were they the work +of good smiths of old days; and moreover, if any of them lacked good +war-gear of his own, that had the Alderman and his sons made good to +them. + +But before the hedge of steel stood the two tall men who held in their +hands the war-tokens of the Battle-shaft and the War-spear, and betwixt +them stood one who was indeed the tallest man of the whole assembly, who +held the great staff of the hidden banner. And now he reached up his +hand, and plucked at the yarn that bound it, which of set purpose was but +feeble, and tore it off, and then shook the staff aloft with both hands, +and shouted, and lo! the Banner of the Wolf with the Sun-burst behind +him, glittering-bright, new-woven by the women of the kindred, ran out in +the fresh wind, and flapped and rippled before His warriors there +assembled. + +Then from all over the Mote-stead arose an exceeding great shout, and all +men waved aloft their weapons; but the men of Shadowy Vale who were +standing amidst the men of the Face knew not how to demean themselves, +and some of them ran forth into the Field and leapt for joy, tossing +their swords into the air, and catching them by the hilts as they fell: +and amidst it all the Woodlanders now stood silent, unmoving, as men +abiding the word of onset. + +As for that brother and sister: the Sun-beam flushed red all over her +face, and pressed her hands to her bosom, and then the passion of tears +over-mastered her, and her breast heaved, and the tears gushed out of her +eyes, and her body was shaken with weeping. But Folk-might sat still, +looking straight before him, his eyes glittering, his teeth set, his +right hand clutching hard at the hilts of his sword, which lay naked +across his knees. And the Bride, who stood clad in her begemmed and +glittering war-array in the forefront of the Men of the Steer, nigh unto +the seats of the chieftains, beheld Folk-might, and her face flushed and +brightened, and still she looked upon him. The Alderman’s face was as of +one pleased and proud; yet was its joy shadowed as it were by a cloud of +compassion. Face-of-god sat like the very image of the War-god, and +stirred not, nor looked toward the Sun-beam; for still the thought of the +after-grief of battle, and the death of friends and folk that loved him, +lay heavy on his heart, for all that it beat wildly at the shouting of +the men. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. OF THE GREAT FOLK-MOTE: ATONEMENTS GIVEN, AND MEN MADE +SACKLESS. + + +AMIDST the clamour uprose the Alderman; for it was clear to all men that +the Folk-mote should be holden at once, and the matters of the War, and +the Fellowship, and the choosing of the War-leader, speedily dealt with. +So the Alderman fell to hallowing in the Folk-mote: he went up to the +Altar of the Gods, and took the Gold-ring off it, and did it on his arm; +then he drew his sword and waved it toward the four aírts, and spake; and +the noise and shouting fell, and there was silence but for him: + +‘Herewith I hallow in this Folk-mote of the Men of the Dale and the +Sheepcotes and the Woodland, in the name of the Warrior and the Earth-god +and the Fathers of the kindreds. Now let not the peace of the Mote be +broken. Let not man rise against man, or bear blade or hand, or stick or +stone against any. If any man break the Peace of the Holy Mote, let him +be a man accursed, a wild-beast in the Holy Places; an outcast from home +and hearth, from bed and board, from mead and acre; not to be holpen with +bread, nor flesh, nor wine; nor flax, nor wool, nor any cloth; nor with +sword, nor shield, nor axe, nor plough-share; nor with horse, nor ox, nor +ass; with no saddle-beast nor draught-beast; nor with wain, nor boat, nor +way-leading; nor with fire nor water; nor with any world’s wealth. Thus +let him who hath cast out man be cast out by man. Now is hallowed-in the +Folk-mote of the Men of the Dale and the Sheepcotes and the Woodlands.’ + +Therewith he waved his sword again toward the four aírts, and went and +sat down in his place. But presently he arose again, and said: + +‘Now if man hath aught to say against man, and claimeth boot of any, or +would lay guilt on any man’s head, let him come forth and declare it; and +the judges shall be named, and the case shall be tried this afternoon or +to-morrow. Yet first I shall tell you that I, the Alderman of the +Dalesmen, doomed one Iron-face of the House of the Face to pay a double +fine, for that he drew a sword at the Gate-thing of Burgstead with the +intent to break the peace thereof. Thou, Green-sleeve, bring forth the +peace-breaker’s fine, that Iron-face may lay the same on the Altar.’ + +Then came forth a man from the men of the Face bearing a bag, and he +brought it to Iron-face, who went up to the Altar and poured forth +weighed gold from the bag thereon, and said: + +‘Warden of the Dale, come thou and weigh it!’ + +‘Nay,’ quoth the Warden, ‘it needeth not, no man here doubteth thee, +Alderman Iron-face.’ + +A murmur of yeasay went up, and none had a word to say against the +Alderman, but they praised him rather: also men were eager to hear of the +war, and the fellowship, and to be done with these petty matters. Then +the Alderman rose again and said: + +‘Hath any man a grief against any other of the Kindreds of the Dale, or +the Sheepcotes, or the Woodlands?’ + +None answered or stirred; so after he had waited a while, he said: + +‘Is there any who hath any guilt to lay against a Stranger, an Outlander, +being such a man as he deems we can come at?’ + +Thereat was a stir amongst the Men of the Fleece of the Shepherds, and +their ranks opened, and there came forth an ill-favoured lean old man, +long-nebbed, blear-eyed, and bent, girt with a rusty old sword, but not +otherwise armed. And all men knew Penny-thumb, who had been ransacked +last autumn. As he came forth, it seemed as if his neighbours had been +trying to hold him back; but a stout, broad-shouldered man, black-haired +and red-bearded, made way for the old man, and led him out of the throng, +and stood by him; and this man was well armed at all points, and looked a +doughty carle. He stood side by side with Penny-thumb, right in front of +the men of his house, and looked about him at first somewhat uneasily, as +though he were ashamed of his fellow; but though many smiled, none +laughed aloud; and they forbore, partly because they knew the man to be a +good man, partly because of the solemn tide of the Folk-mote, and partly +in sooth because they wished all this to be over, and were as men who had +no time for empty mirth. + +Then said the Alderman: ‘What wouldest thou, Penny-thumb, and thou, +Bristler, son of Brightling?’ + +Then Penny-thumb began to speak in a high squeaky voice: ‘Alderman, and +Lord of the Folk!’ But therewithal Bristle, pulled him back, and said: + +‘I am the man who hath taken this quarrel upon me, and have sworn upon +the Holy Boar to carry this feud through; and we deem, Alderman, that if +they who slew Rusty and ransacked Penny-thumb be not known now, yet they +soon may be.’ + +As he spake, came forth those three men of the Shepherds and the two +Dalesmen who had sworn with him on the Holy Boar. Then up stood +Folk-might, and came forth into the field, and said: + +‘Bristler, son of Brightling, and ye other good men and true, it is but +sooth that the ransackers and the slayer may soon be known; and here I +declare them unto you: I it was and none other who slew Rusty; and I was +the leader of those who ransacked Penny-thumb, and cowed Harts-bane of +Greentofts. As for the slaying of Rusty, I slew him because he chased +me, and would not forbear, so that I must either slay or be slain, as +hath befallen me erewhile, and will befall again, methinks. As for the +ransacking of Penny-thumb, I needed the goods that I took, and he needed +them not, since he neither used them, nor gave them away, and, they being +gone, he hath lived no worser than aforetime. Now I say, that if ye will +take the outlawry off me, which, as I hear, ye laid upon me, not knowing +me, then will I handsel self-doom to thee, Bristler, if thou wilt bear +thy grief to purse, and I will pay thee what thou wilt out of hand; or if +perchance thou wilt call me to Holm, thither will I go, if thou and I +come unslain out of this war. As to the ransacking and cowing of +Harts-bane, I say that I am sackless therein, because the man is but a +ruffler and a man of violence, and hath cowed many men of the Dale; and +if he gainsay me, then do I call him to the Holm after this war is over; +either him or any man who will take his place before my sword.’ + +Then he held his peace, and man spake to man, and a murmur arose, as they +said for the more part that it was a fair and manly offer. But Bristler +called his fellows and Penny-thumb to him, and they spake together; and +sometimes Penny-thumb’s shrill squeak was heard above the deep-voiced +talk of the others; for he was a man that harboured malice. But at last +Bristler spake out and said: + +‘Tall man, we know that thou art a chieftain and of good will to the men +of the Dale and their friends, and that want drave thee to the +ransacking, and need to the manslaying, and neither the living nor the +dead to whom thou art guilty are to be called good men; therefore will I +bring the matter to purse, if thou wilt handsel me self-doom.’ + +‘Yea, even so let it be,’ quoth Folk-might; and stepped forward and took +Bristler by the hand, and handselled him self-doom. Then said Bristler: + +‘Though Rusty was no good man, and though he followed thee to slay thee, +yet was he in his right therein, since he was following up his goodman’s +gear; therefore shalt thou pay a full blood-wite for him, that is to say, +the worth of three hundreds in weed-stuff in whatso goods thou wilt. As +for the ransacking of Penny-thumb, he shall deem himself well paid if +thou give him our hundreds in weed-stuff for that which thou didst borrow +of him.’ + +Then Penny-thumb set up his squeak again, but no man hearkened to him, +and each man said to his neighbour that it was well doomed of Bristler, +and neither too much nor too little. But Folk-might bade Wood-wont to +bring thither to him that which he had borne to the Mote; and he brought +forth a big sack, and Folk-might emptied it on the earth, and lo! the +silver rings of the slain felons, and they lay in a heap on the green +field, and they were the best of silver. Then the Elder of the +Dale-wardens weighed out from the heap the blood-wite for Rusty, +according to the due measure of the hundred in weed-stuff, and delivered +it unto Bristler. And Folk-might said: + +‘Draw nigh now, Penny-thumb, and take what thou wilt of this gear, which +I need not, and grudge not at me henceforward.’ + +But Penny-thumb was afraid, and abode where he was; and Bristler laughed, +and said: ‘Take it, goodman, take it; spare not other men’s goods as thou +dost thine own.’ + +And Folk-might stood by, smiling faintly: so Penny-thumb plucked up a +heart, and drew nigh trembling, and took what he durst from that heap; +and all that stood by said that he had gotten a full double of what had +been awarded to him. But as for him, he went his ways straight from the +Mote-stead, and made no stay till he had gotten him home, and laid the +silver up in a strong coffer; and thereafter he bewailed him sorely that +he had not taken the double of that which he took, since none would have +said him nay. + +When he was gone, the Alderman arose and said: + +‘Now, since the fines have been paid duly and freely, according to the +dooming of Bristler, take we off the outlawry from Folk-might and his +fellows, and account them to be sackless before us.’ + +Then he called for other cases; but no man had aught more to bring +forward against any man, either of the kindreds or the Strangers. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. OF THE GREAT FOLK-MOTE: MEN TAKE REDE OF THE WAR-FARING, +THE FELLOWSHIP, AND THE WAR-LEADER. FOLK-MIGHT TELLETH WHENCE HIS PEOPLE +CAME. THE FOLK-MOTE SUNDERED. + + +NOW a great silence fell upon the throng, and they stood as men abiding +some new matter. Unto them arose the Alderman, and said: + +‘Men of the Dale, and ye Shepherds and Woodlanders; it is well known to +you that we have foemen in the wood and beyond it; and now have we gotten +sure tidings, that they will not abide at home or in the wood, but are +minded to fall upon us at home. Now therefore I will not ask you whether +ye will have peace or war; for with these foemen ye may have peace no +otherwise save by war. But if ye think with me, three things have ye to +determine: first, whether ye will abide your foes in your own houses, or +will go meet them at theirs; next, whether ye will take to you as fellows +in arms a valiant folk of the children of the Gods, who are foemen to our +foemen; and lastly, what man ye will have to be your War-leader. Now, I +bid all those here assembled, to speak hereof, any man of them that will, +either what they may have conceived in their own minds, or what their +kindred may have put into their mouths to speak.’ + +Therewith he sat down, and in a little while came forth old Hall-ward of +the House of the Steer, and stood before the Alderman, and said: ‘O +Alderman, all we say: Since war is awake we will not tarry, but will go +meet our foes while it is yet time. The valiant men of whom thou tellest +shall be our fellows, were there but three of them. We know no better +War-leader than Face-of-god of the House of the Face. Let him lead us.’ + +Therewith he went his ways; and next came forth War-well, and said: ‘The +House of the Bridge would have Face-of-god for War-leader, these tall men +for fellows, and the shortest way to meet the foe.’ And he went back to +his place. + +Next came Fox of Upton, and said: ‘Time presses, or much might be spoken. +Thus saith the House of the Bull: Let us go meet the foe, and take these +valiant strangers for way-leaders, and Face-of-god for War-leader.’ And +he also went back again. + +Then came forth two men together, an old man and a young, and the old man +spake as soon as he stood still: ‘The Men of the Vine bid me say their +will: They will not stay at home to have their houses burned over their +heads, themselves slain on their own hearths, and their wives haled off +to thralldom. They will take any man for their fellow in arms who will +smite stark strokes on their side. They know Face-of-god, and were +liefer of him for War-leader than any other, and they will follow him +wheresoever he leadeth. Thus my kindred biddeth me say, and I hight +Fork-beard of Lea. If I live through this war, I shall have lived +through five.’ + +Therewith he went back to his place; but the young man lifted up his +voice and said: ‘To all this I say yea, and so am I bidden by the kindred +of the Sickle. I am Red-beard of the Knolls, the son of my father.’ And +he went to his place again. + +Then came forth Stone-face, and said: ‘The House of the Face saith: Lead +us through the wood, O Face-of-god, thou War-leader, and ye warriors of +the Wolf. I am Stone-face, as men know, and this word hath been given to +me by the kindred.’ And he took his place again. + +Then came forth together the three chiefs of the Shepherds, to wit +Hound-under-Greenbury, Strongitharm, and the Hyllier; and Strongitharm +spake for all three, and said: + +‘The Men of Greenbury, and they of the Fleece and the Thorn, are of one +accord, and bid us say that they are well pleased to have Face-of-god for +War-leader; and that they will follow him and the warriors of the Wolf to +live or die with them; and that they are ready to go meet the foe at +once, and will not skulk behind the walls of Greenbury.’ + +Therewith the three went back again to their places. + +Then came forth that tall man that bare the Banner of the Wolf, when he +had given the staff into the hands of him who stood next. He came and +stood over against the seat of the chieftains; and for a while he could +say no word, but stood struggling with the strong passion of his joy; but +at last he lifted his hands aloft, and cried out in a loud voice: + +‘O war, war! O death! O wounding and grief! O loss of friends and +kindred! let all this be rather than the drawing back of meeting hands +and the sundering of yearning hearts!’ and he went back hastily to his +place. But from the ranks of the Woodlanders ran forth a young man, and +cried out: + +‘As is the word of Red-wolf, so is my word, Bears-bane of Carlstead; and +this is the word which our little Folk hath put into our mouths; and O! +that our hands may show the meaning of our mouths; for nought else can.’ + +Then indeed went up a great shout, though many forebore to cry out; for +now were they too much moved for words or sounds. And in special was +Face-of-god moved; and he scarce knew which way to look, lest he should +break out into sobs and weeping; for of late he had been much among the +Woodlanders, and loved them much. + +Then all the noise and clamour fell, and it was to men as if they who had +come thither a folk, had now become an host of war. + +But once again the Alderman rose up and spake: + +‘Now have ye yeasaid three things: That we take Face-of-god of the House +of the Face for our War-leader; that we fare under weapons at once +against them who would murder us; and that we take the valiant Folk of +the Wolf for our fellows in arms.’ + +Therewith he stayed his speech, and this time the shout arose clear and +most mighty, with the tossing up of swords and the clashing of weapons on +shields. + +Then he said: ‘Now, if any man will speak, here is the War-leader, and +here is the chief of our new friends, to answer to whatso any of the +kindred would have answered.’ + +Thereon came forth the Fiddle from amongst the Men of the Sickle, and +drew somewhat nigh to the Alderman, and said: + +‘Alderman, we would ask of the War-leader if he hath devised the manner +of our assembling, and the way of our war-faring, and the day of our +hosting. More than this I will not ask of him, because we wot that in so +great an assembly it may be that the foe may have some spy of whom we wot +not; and though this be not likely, yet some folk may babble; therefore +it is best for the wise to be wise everywhere and always. Therefore my +rede it is, that no man ask any more concerning this, but let it lie with +the War-leader to bring us face to face with the foe as speedily as he +may.’ + +All men said that this was well counselled. But Face-of-god arose and +said: ‘Ye Men of the Dale, ye Shepherds and Woodlanders, meseemeth the +Fiddle hath spoken wisely. Now therefore I answer him and say, that I +have so ordered everything since the Gate-thing was holden at Burgstead, +that we may come face to face with the foemen by the shortest of roads. +Every man shall be duly summoned to the Hosting, and if any man fail, let +it be accounted a shame to him for ever.’ + +A great shout followed on his words, and he sat down again. But Fox of +Upton came forth and said: + +‘O Alderman, we have yeasaid the fellowship of the valiant men who have +come to us from out of the waste; but this we have done, not because we +have known them, otherwise than by what our kinsman Face-of-god hath told +us concerning them, but because we have seen clearly that they will be of +much avail to us in our warfare. Now, therefore, if the tall chieftain +who sitteth beside thee were to do us to wit what he is, and whence he +and his are come, it were well, and fain were we thereof; but if he +listeth not to tell us, that also shall be well.’ + +Then arose Folk-might in his place; but or ever he could open his mouth +to speak, the tall Red-wolf strode forward bearing with him the Banner of +the Wolf and the Sun-burst, and came and stood beside him; and the wind +ran through the folds of the banner, and rippled it out above the heads +of those twain. Then Folk-might spake and said: + + ‘O Men of the Dale and the Sheepcotes, I will do as ye bid me do; + And fain were ye of the story if every deal ye knew. + But long, long were its telling, were I to tell it all: + Let it bide till the Cup of Deliverance ye drink from hall to hall. + + ‘Like you we be of the kindreds, of the Sons of the Gods we come, + Midst the Mid-earth’s mighty Woodland of old we had our home; + But of older time we abided ’neath the mountains of the Earth, + O’er which the Sun ariseth to waken woe and mirth. + + Great were we then and many; but the long days wore us thin, + And war, wherein the winner hath weary work to win. + And the woodland wall behind us e’en like ourselves was worn, + And the tramp of the hosts of the foemen adown its glades was borne + On the wind that bent our wheat-fields. So in the morn we rose, + And left behind the stubble and the autumn-fruited close, + And went our ways to the westward, nor turned aback to see + The glare of our burning houses rise over brake and tree. + But the foe was fierce and speedy, nor long they tarried there, + And through the woods of battle our laden wains must fare; + And the Sons of the Wolf were minished, and the maids of the Wolf + waxed few, + As amidst the victory-singing we fared the wild-wood through. + + ‘So saith the ancient story, that west and west we went, + And many a day of battle we had in brake, on bent; + Whilst here a while we tarried, and there we hastened on, + And still the battle-harvest from many a folk we won. + + ‘Of the tale of the days who wotteth? Of the years what man can tell, + While the Sons of the Wolf were wandering, and knew not where to + dwell? + But at last we clomb the mountains, and mickle was our toil, + As high the spear-wood clambered of the drivers of the spoil; + And tangled were the passes and the beacons flared behind, + And the horns of gathering onset came up upon the wind. + So saith the ancient story, that we stood in a mountain-cleft, + Where the ways and the valleys sundered to the right hand and the + left. + There in the place of sundering all woeful was the rede; + We knew no land before us, and behind was heavy need. + As the sword cleaves through the byrny, so there the mountain flank + Cleft through the God-kin’s people; and ne’er again we drank + The wine of war together, or feasted side by side + In the Feast-hall of the Warrior on the fruit of the battle-tide. + For there we turned and sundered; unto the North we went + And up along the waters, and the clattering stony bent; + And unto the South and the Sheepcotes down went our sister’s sons; + And O for the years passed over since we saw those valiant ones!’ + +He ceased, and laid his right hand on the banner-staff a little below the +left hand of Red-wolf; and men were so keen to hear each word that he +spake, that there was no cry nor sound of voices when he had done, only +the sound of the rippling banner of the Wolf over the heads of those +twain. The Sun-beam bowed her head now, and wept silently. But the +Bride, she had drawn her sword, and held it upright in her hand before +her, and the sun smote fire from out of it. + +Then it was but a little while before Red-wolf lifted up his voice, and +sang: + + ‘Hearken a wonder, O Folk of the Field, + How they that did sunder stand shield beside shield! + + Lo! the old wont and manner by fearless folk made, + On the Bole of the Banner the brothers’ hands laid. + + Lo! here the token of what hath betid! + Grown whole is the broken, found that which was hid. + + Now one way we follow whate’er shall befall; + As seeketh the swallow his yesteryear’s hall. + + Seldom folk fewer to fight-stead hath fared; + Ne’er have men truer the battle-reed bared. + + Grey locks now I carry, and old am I grown, + Nor looked I to tarry to meet with mine own. + + For we who remember the deeds of old days + Were nought but the ember of battle ablaze. + + For what man might aid us? what deed and what day + Should come where Weird laid us aloof from the way? + + What man save that other of Twain rent apart, + Our war-friend, our Brother, the piece of our heart. + + Then hearken the wonder how shield beside shield + The twain that did sunder wend down to the Field!’ + +Now when he had made an end, men could no longer forebear the shout; and +it went up into the heavens, and was borne by the west-wind down the Dale +to the ears of the stay-at-home women and men unmeet to go abroad, and it +quickened their blood and the spirits within them as they heard it, and +they smiled and were fain; for they knew that their kinsfolk were glad. + +But when there was quiet on the Mote-field again, Folk-might spake again +and said; + + ‘It is sooth that my Brother sayeth, and that now again we wend, + All the Sons of the Wolf together, till the trouble hath an end. + But as for that tale of the Ancients, it saith that we who went + To the northward, climbed and stumbled o’er many a stony bent, + Till we happed on that isle of the waste-land, and the grass of + Shadowy Vale, + Where we dwelt till we throve a little, and felt our might avail. + Then we fared abroad from the shadow and the little-lighted hold, + And the increase fell to the valiant, and the spoil to the + battle-bold, + And never a man gainsaid us with the weapons in our hands; + And in Silver-dale the happy we gat us life and lands. + + ‘So wore the years o’er-wealthy; and meseemeth that ye know + How we sowed and reaped destruction, and the Day of the overthrow: + How we leaned on the staff we had broken, and put our lives in the + hand + Of those whom we had vanquished and the feeble of the land; + And these were the stone of stumbling, and the burden not to be borne, + When the battle-blast fell on us and our day was over-worn. + Thus then did our wealth bewray us, and left us wise and sad; + And to you, bold men, it falleth once more to make us glad, + If so your hearts are bidding, and ye deem the deed of worth. + Such were we; what we shall be, ’tis yours to say henceforth.’ + +He said furthermore: ‘How great we have been I have told you already; and +ye shall see for yourselves how little we be now. Is it enough, and will +ye have us for friends and brothers? How say ye?’ + +They answered with shout upon shout, so that all the place and the +wild-wood round about was full of the voice of their crying; but when the +clamour fell, then spake the Alderman and said: + +‘Friend, and chieftain of the Wolf, thou mayst hear by this shouting of +the people that we have no mind to naysay our yea-say. And know that it +is not our use and manner to seek the strong for friends, and to thrust +aside the weak; but rather to choose for our friends them who are of like +mind to us, men in whom we put our trust. From henceforth then there is +brotherhood between us; we are yours, and ye are ours; and let this +endure for ever!’ + +Then were all men full of joy; and now at last the battle seemed at hand, +and the peace beyond the battle. + +Then men brought the hallowed beasts all garlanded with flowers into the +Doom-ring, and there were they slain and offered up unto the Gods, to wit +the Warrior, the Earth-god, and the Fathers; and thereafter was solemn +feast holden on the Field of the Folk-mote, and all men were fain and +merry. Nevertheless, not all men abode there the feast through; for or +ever the afternoon was well worn, were many men wending along the Portway +eastward toward the Upper Dale, each man in his war-gear and with a scrip +hung about him; and these were they who were bound for the trysting-place +and the journey over the waste. + +So the Folk-mote was sundered; and men went to their houses, and there +abode in peace the time of their summoning; since they wotted well that +the Hosting was afoot. + +But as for the Woodlanders, who were at the Mote-stead with all their +folk, women, children, and old men, they went not back again to +Carlstead; but prayed the neighbours of the Middle Dale to suffer them to +abide there awhile, which they yeasaid with a good will. So the +Woodlanders tilted themselves in, the more part of them, down in the +meadows below the Mote-stead, along either side of Wildlake’s Way; but +their ancient folk, and some of the women and children, the neighbours +would have into their houses, and the rest they furnished with victual +and all that they needed without price, looking upon them as their very +guests. For indeed they deemed that they could see that these men would +never return to Carlstead, but would abide with the Men of the Wolf in +Silver-dale, once it were won. And this they deemed but meet and right, +yet were they sorry thereof; for the Woodlanders were well beloved of all +the Dalesmen; and now that they had gotten to know that they were come of +so noble a kindred, they were better beloved yet, and more looked upon. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. OF THE HOSTING IN SHADOWY VALE. + + +IT was on the evening of the fourth day after the Folk-mote that there +came through the Waste to the rocky edge of Shadowy Vale a band of some +fifteen score of men-at-arms, and with them a multitude of women and +children and old men, some afoot, some riding on asses and bullocks; and +with them were sumpter asses and neat laden with household goods, and a +few goats and kine. And this was the whole folk of the Woodlanders come +to the Hosting in Shadowy Vale and the Home of the Children of the Wolf. +Their leaders of the way were Wood-father and Wood-wont and two other +carles of Shadowy Vale; and Red-wolf the tall, and Bears-bane and +War-grove were the captains and chieftains of their company. + +Thus then they entered into the narrow pass aforesaid, which was the +ingate to the Vale from the Waste, and little by little its dimness +swallowed up their long line. As they went by the place where the +lowering of the rock-wall gave a glimpse of the valley, they looked down +into it as Face-of-god had done, but much change was there in little +time. There was the black wall of crags on the other side stretching +down to the ghyll of the great Force; there ran the deep green waters of +the Shivering Flood; but the grass which Face-of-god had seen naked of +everything but a few kine, thereon now the tents of men stood thick. +Their hearts swelled within them as they beheld it, but they forebore the +shout and the cry till they should be well within the Vale, and so went +down silently into the darkness. But as their eyes caught that dim image +of the Wolf on the wall of the pass, man pointed it out to man, and not a +few turned and kissed it hurriedly; and to them it seemed that many a +kiss had been laid on that dear token since the days of old, and that the +hard stone had been worn away by the fervent lips of men, and that the +air of the mirk place yet quivered with the vows sworn over the +sword-blade. + +But down through the dark they went, and so came on to the stony scree at +the end of the pass and into the Vale; and the whole Folk save the three +chieftains flowed over it and stood about it down on the level grass of +the Vale. But those three stood yet on the top of the scree, bearing the +war-signs of the Shaft and the Spear, and betwixt them the banner of the +Wolf and the Sunburst newly displayed to the winds of Shadowy Vale. + +Up and down the Vale they looked, and saw before the tents of men the old +familiar banners of Burgdale rising and falling in the evening wind. But +amidst of the Doom-ring was pitched a great banner, whereon was done the +image of the Wolf with red gaping jaws on a field of green; and about him +stood other banners, to wit, The Silver Arm on a red field, the Red Hand +on a white field, and on green fields both, the Golden Bushel and the +Ragged Sword. + +All about the plain shone glittering war-gear of men as they moved hither +and thither, and a stream of folk began at once to draw toward the scree +to look on those new-comers; and amidst the helmed Burgdalers and the +white-coated Shepherds went the tall men of the Wolf, bare-headed and +unarmed save for their swords, mingled with the fair strong women of the +kindred, treading barefoot the soft grass of their own Vale. + +Presently there was a great throng gathered round about the Woodlanders, +and each man as he joined it waved hand or weapon toward them, and the +joy of their welcome sent a confused clamour through the air. Then forth +from the throng stepped Folk-might, unarmed save his sword, and behind +him was Face-of-god, in his war-gear save his helm, hand in hand with the +Sun-beam, who was clad in her goodly flowered green kirtle, her feet +naked like her sisters of the kindred. + +Then Folk-might cried aloud: ‘A full and free greeting to our brothers! +Well be ye, O Sons of our Ancient Fathers! And to-day are ye the dearer +to us because we see that ye have brought us a gift, to wit, your wives +and children, and your grandsires unmeet for war. By this token we see +how great is your trust in us, and that it is your meaning never to +sunder from us again. O well be ye; well be ye!’ + +Then spake Red-wolf, and said: ‘Ye Sons of the Wolf, who parted from us +of old time in that cleft of the mountains, it is our very selves that we +give unto you; and these are a part of ourselves; how then should we +leave them behind us? Bear witness, O men of Burgdale and the +Sheepcotes, that we have become one Folk with the men of Shadowy Vale, +never to be sundered again!’ + +Then all that multitude shouted with a loud voice; and when the shout had +died away, Folk-might spake again: + +‘O Warriors of the Sundering, here shall your wives and children abide, +while we go a little journey to rejoice our hearts with the hard +handplay, and take to us that which we have missed: and to-morrow morn is +appointed for this same journey, unless ye be over foot-weary with the +ways of the Waste.’ + +Red-wolf smiled as he answered: ‘This ye say in jest, brother; for ye may +see that our day’s journey hath not been over-much for our old men; how +then should it weary those who may yet bear sword? We are ready for the +road and eager for the handplay.’ + +‘This is well,’ said Folk-might, ‘and what was to be looked for. +Therefore, brother, do ye and your counsel-mates come straightway to the +Hall of the Wolf; wherein, after ye have eaten and drunken, shall we take +counsel with our brethren of Burgdale and the Sheepcotes, so that all may +be ordered for battle!’ + +Said Red-wolf: ‘Good is that, if we must needs abide till to-morrow; for +verily we came not hither to eat and drink and rest our bodies; but it +must be as ye will have it.’ + +Then the Sun-beam left the hand of Face-of-god and came forward, and held +out both her palms to the Woodland-folk, and spake in a voice that was +heard afar, though it were a woman’s, so clear and sweet it was; and she +said: + +‘O Warriors of the Sundering, ye who be not needed in the Hall, and ye +our sisters with your little ones and your fathers, come now to us and +down to the tents which we have arrayed for you, and there think for a +little that we are all at our very home that we long for and have yet to +win, and be ye merry with us and make us merry.’ + +Therewith she stepped forward daintily and entered into their throng, and +took an old man of the Woodlanders by the hand, and kissed his cheek and +led him away, and the coming rest seemed sweet to him. And then came +other women of the Vale, kind and fair and smiling, and led away, some an +old mother of the Wood-landers, some a young wife, some a pair of lads; +and not a few forsooth kissed and embraced the stark warriors, and went +away with them toward the tents, which stood along the side of the +Shivering Flood where it was at its quietest; for there was the grass the +softest and most abundant. There on the green grass were tables arrayed, +and lamps were hung above them on spears, to be litten when the daylight +should fail. And the best of the victual which the Vale could give was +spread on the boards, along with wine and dainties, bought in +Silver-dale, or on the edges of the Westland with sword-strokes and +arrow-flight. + +There then they feasted and were merry; and the Sun-beam and Bow-may and +the other women of the Vale served them at table, and were very blithe +with them, caressing them with soft words, and with clipping and kissing, +as folk who were grown exceeding dear to them; so that that eve of battle +was softer and sweeter to them than any hour of their life. With these +feasters were God-swain and Spear-fist of the delivered thralls of +Silver-dale as glad as glad might be; but Wolf-stone their eldest was +gone with Dallach to the Council in the Hall. + +The men of Burgdale and the Shepherds feasted otherwhere in all content, +nor lacked folk of the Vale to serve them. Amongst the men of the Face +were the ten delivered thralls who had heart to meet their masters in +arms: seven of them were of Rose-dale and three of Silver-dale. + +The Bride was with her kindred of the Steer, with whom were many men of +Shadowy Vale, and she served her friends and fellows clad in her +war-gear, save helm and hauberk, bearing herself as one who is serving +dear guests. And men equalled her for her beauty to the Gods of the High +Place and the Choosers of the Slain; and they who had not beheld her +before marvelled at her, and her loveliness held all men’s hearts in a +net of desire, so that they forebore their meat to gaze upon her; and if +perchance her hand touched some young man, or her cheek or sweet-breathed +mouth came nigh to his face, he became bewildered and wist not where he +was, nor what to do. Yet was she as lowly and simple of speech and +demeanour as if she were a gooseherd of fourteen winters. + +In the Hall was a goodly company, and all the leaders of the Folk were +therein, and Folk-might and the War-leader sitting in the midst of those +stone seats on the days. There then they agreed on the whole ordering of +the battle and the wending of the host, as shall be told later on; and +this matter was long a-doing, and when it was done, men went to their +places to sleep, for the night was well worn. + +But when men had departed and all was still, Folk-might, light-clad and +without a weapon, left the Hall and walked briskly toward the nether end +of the Vale. He passed by all the tents, the last whereof were of the +House of the Steer, and came to a place where was a great rock rising +straight up from the plain like sheaves of black staves standing close +together; and it was called Staff-stone, and tales of the elves had been +told concerning it, so that Stone-face had beheld it gladly the day +before. + +The moon was just shining into Shadowy Vale, and the grass was bright +wheresoever the shadows of the high cliffs were not, and the face of +Staff-stone shone bright grey as Folk-might came within sight of it, and +he beheld someone sitting at the base of the rock, and as he drew nigher +he saw that it was a woman, and knew her for the Bride; for he had prayed +her to abide him there that night, because it was nigh to the tents of +the House of the Steer; and his heart was glad as he drew nigh to her. + +She sat quietly on a fragment of the black rock, clad as she had been all +day, in her glittering kirtle, but without hauberk or helm, a wreath of +wind-flowers about her head, her feet crossed over each other, her hands +laid palm uppermost in her lap. She moved not as he drew nigh, but said +in a gentle voice when he was close to her: + +‘Chief of the Wolf, great warrior, thou wouldest speak with me; and good +it is that friends should talk together on the eve of battle, when they +may never meet alive again.’ + +He said: ‘My talk shall not be long; for thou and I both must sleep +to-night, since there is work to hand to-morrow. Now since, as thou +sayest, O fairest of women, we may never meet again alive, I ask thee now +at this hour, when we both live and are near to one another, to suffer me +to speak to thee of my love of thee and desire for thee. Surely thou, +who art the sweetest of all things the Gods and the kindreds have made, +wilt not gainsay me this?’ + +She said very sweetly, yet smiling: ‘Brother of my father’s sons, how can +I gainsay thee thy speech? Nay, hast thou not said it? What more canst +thou add to it that will have fresh meaning to mine ears?’ + +He said: ‘Thou sayest sooth: might I then but kiss thine hand?’ + +She said, no longer smiling: ‘Yea surely, even so may all men do who can +be called my friends—and thou art much my friend.’ + +He took her hand and kissed it, and held it thereafter; nor did she draw +it away. The moon shone brightly on them; but by its light he could not +see if she reddened, but he deemed that her face was troubled. Then he +said: ‘It were better for me if I might kiss thy face, and take thee in +mine arms.’ + +Then said she: ‘This only shall a man do with me when I long to do the +like with him. And since thou art so much my friend, I will tell thee +that as for this longing, I have it not. Bethink thee what a little +while it is since the lack of another man’s love grieved me sorely.’ + +‘The time is short,’ said Folk-might, ‘if we tell up the hours thereof; +but in that short space have a many things betid.’ + +She said: ‘Dost thou know, canst thou guess, how sorely ashamed I went +amongst my people? I durst look no man in the face for the aching of +mine heart, which methought all might see through my face.’ + +‘I knew it well,’ he said; ‘yet of me wert thou not ashamed but a little +while ago, when thou didst tell me of thy grief.’ + +She said: ‘True it is; and thou wert kind to me. Thou didst become a +dear friend to me, methought.’ + +‘And wilt thou hurt a dear friend?’ said he. + +‘O no,’ she said, ‘if I might do otherwise. Yet how if I might not +choose? Shall there be no forgiveness for me then?’ + +He answered nothing; and still he held her hand that strove not to be +gone from his, and she cast down her eyes. Then he spake in a while: + +‘My friend, I have been thinking of thee and of me; and now hearken: if +thou wilt declare that thou feelest no sweetness embracing thine heart +when I say that I desire thee sorely, as now I say it; or when I kiss +thine hand, as now I kiss it; or when I pray thee to suffer me to cast +mine arms about thee and kiss thy face, as now I pray it: if thou wilt +say this, then will I take thee by the hand straightway, and lead thee to +the tents of the House of the Steer, and say farewell to thee till the +battle is over. Canst thou say this out of the truth of thine heart?’ + +She said: ‘What then if I cannot say this word? What then?’ + +But he answered nothing; and she sat still a little while, and then arose +and stood before him, looking him in the eyes, and said: + +‘I cannot say it.’ + +Then he caught her in his arms and strained her to him, and then kissed +her lips and her face again and again, and she strove not with him. But +at last she said: + +‘Yet after all this shalt thou lead me back to my folk straight-way; and +when the battle is done, if both we are living, then shall we speak more +thereof.’ + +So he took her hand and led her on toward the tents of the Steer, and for +a while he spake nought; for he doubted himself, what he should say; but +at last he spake: + +‘Now is this better for me than if it had not been, whether I live or +whether I die. Yet thou hast not said that thou lovest me and desirest +me.’ + +‘Wilt thou compel me?’ she said. ‘To-night I may not say it. Who shall +say what words my lips shall fashion when we stand together victorious in +Silver-dale; then indeed may the time seem long from now.’ + +He said: ‘Yea, true is that; yet once again I say that so measured long +and long is the time since first I saw thee in Burgdale before thou +knewest me. Yet now I will not bicker with thee, for be sure that I am +glad at heart. And lo you! our feet have brought us to the tents of thy +people. All good go with thee!’ + +‘And with thee, sweet friend,’ she said. Then she lingered a little, +turning her head toward the tents, and then turned her face toward him +and laid her hand on his neck, and drew his head adown to her and kissed +his cheek, and therewith swiftly and lightly departed from him. + +Now the night wore and the morning came; and Face-of-god was abroad very +early in the morning, as his custom was; and he washed the night from off +him in the Carles’ Bath of the Shivering Flood, and then went round +through the encampment of the host, and saw none stirring save here and +there the last watchmen of the night. He spake with one or two of these, +and then went up to the head of the Vale, where was the pass that led to +Silver-dale; and there he saw the watch, and spake with them, and they +told him that none had as yet come forth from the pass, and he bade them +to blow the horn of warning to rouse up the Host as soon as the +messengers came thence. For forerunners had been sent up the pass, and +had been set to hold watch at divers places therein to pass on the word +from place to place. + +Thence went Face-of-god back toward the Hall; but when he was yet some +way from it, he saw a slender glittering warrior come forth from the door +thereof, who stood for a moment looking round about, and then came +lightly and swiftly toward him; and lo! it was the Sun-beam, with a long +hauberk over her kirtle falling below her knees, a helm on her head and +plated shoes on her feet. She came up to him, and laid her hand to his +cheek and the golden locks of his head (for he was bare-headed), and said +to him, smiling: + +‘Gold-mane! thou badest me bear arms, and Folk-might also constrained me +thereto. Lo thou!’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Folk-might is wise then, even as I am; and forsooth as +thou art. For bethink thee if the bow drawn at a venture should speed +the eyeless shaft against thy breast, and send me forth a wanderer from +my Folk! For how could I bear the sight of the fair Dale, and no hope to +see thee again therein?’ + +She said: ‘The heart is light within me to-day. Deemest thou that this +is strange? Or dost thou call to mind that which thou spakest the other +day, that it was of no avail to stand in the Doom-ring of the Folk and +bear witness against ourselves? This will I not. This is no +light-mindedness that thou beholdest in me, but the valiancy that the +Fathers have set in mine heart. Deem not, O Gold-mane, fear not, that we +shall die before they dight the bride-bed for us.’ + +He would have kissed her mouth, but she put him away with her hand, and +doffed her helm and laid it on the grass, and said: + +‘This is not the last time that thou shalt kiss me, Gold-mane, my dear; +and yet I long for it as if it were, so high as the Fathers have raised +me up this morn above fear and sadness.’ + +He said nought, but drew her to him, and wonder so moved him, that he +looked long and closely at her face before he kissed her; and forsooth he +could find no blemish in it: it was as if it were but new come from the +smithy of the Gods, and exceeding longing took hold of him. But even as +their lips met, from the head of the Vale came the voice of the great +horn; and it was answered straightway by the watchers all down the tents; +and presently arose the shouts of men and the clash of weapons as folk +armed themselves, and laughter therewith, for most men were battle-merry, +and the cries of women shrilly-clear as they hastened about, busy over +the morning meal before the departure of the Host. But Face-of-god said +softly, still caressing the Sun-beam, and she him: + +‘Thus then we depart from this Valley of the Shadows, but as thou saidst +when first we met therein, there shall be no sundering of thee and me, +but thou shalt go down with me to the battle.’ + +And he led her by the hand into the Hall of the Wolf, and there they ate +a morsel, and thereafter Face-of-god tarried not, but busied himself +along with Folk-might and the other chieftains in arraying the Host for +departure. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. THE HOST DEPARTETH FROM SHADOWY VALE: THE FIRST DAY’S +JOURNEY. + + +IT was about three hours before noon that the Host began to enter into +the pass out of Shadowy Vale by the river-side; and the women and +children, and men unfightworthy, stood on the higher ground at the foot +of the cliffs to see the Host wend on the way. Of these a many were of +the Woodlanders, who were now one folk with them of Shadowy Vale. And +all these had chosen to abide tidings in the Vale, deeming that there was +little danger therein, since that last slaughter which Folk-might had +made of the Dusky Men; albeit Face-of-god had offered to send them all to +Burgstead with two score and ten men-at-arms to guard them by the way and +to eke out the warders of the Burg. + +Now the fighting-men of Shadowy Vale were two long hundreds lacking five; +of whom two score and ten were women, and three score and ten lads under +twenty winters; but the women, though you might scarce see fairer of face +and body, were doughty in arms, all good shooters in the bow; and the +swains were eager and light-foot, cragsmen of the best, wont to scaling +the cliffs of the Vale in search of the nests of gerfalcons and such-like +fowl, and swimming the strong streams of the Shivering Flood; tough +bodies and wiry, stronger than most grown men, and as fearless as the +best. + +The order of the Departure of the Host was this: + +The Woodlanders went first into the pass, and with them were two score of +the ripe Warriors of the Wolf. Then came of the kindreds of Burgdale, +the Men of the Steer, the Bridge, and the Bull; then the Men of the Vine +and the Sickle; then the Shepherd-folk; and lastly, the Men of the Face +led by Stone-face and Hall-face. With these went another two score of +the dwellers in Shadowy Vale, and the rest were scattered up and down the +bands of the Host to guide them into the best paths and to make the way +easier to them. Face-of-god was sundered from his kindred, and went +along with Folk-might in the forefront of the Host, while his father the +Alderman went as a simple man-at-arms with his House in the rearward. +The Sun-beam followed her brother and Face-of-god amidst the Warriors of +the Wolf, and with her were Bow-may clad in the Alderman’s gift, and +Wood-father and his children. Bow-may had caused her to doff her hauberk +for that day, whereon they looked to fall in with no foeman. As for the +Bride, she went with her kindred in all her war-gear; and the morning sun +shone in the gems of her apparel, and her jewelled feet fell like flowers +upon the deep grass of the upper Vale, and shone strange and bright +amongst the black stones of the pass. She bore a quiver at her back and +a shining yew bow in her hand, and went amongst the bowmen, for she was a +very deft archer. + +So fared they into the pass, leaving peace behind them, with all their +banners displayed, and the banner of the Red-mouthed Wolf went with the +Wolf and the Sun-burst in the forefront of their battle next after the +two captains. + +As for their road, the grassy space between the rock-wall and the water +was wide and smooth at first, and the cliffs rose up like bundles of +spear-shafts high and clear from the green grass with no confused litter +of fallen stones; so that the men strode on briskly, their hearts +high-raised and full of hope. And as they went, the sweetness of song +stirred in their souls, and at last Bow-may fell to singing in a loud +clear voice, and her cousin Wood-wise answered her, and all the warriors +of the Wolf who were in their band fell into the song at the ending, and +the sound of their melody went down the water and reached the ears of +those that were entering the pass, and of those who were abiding till the +way should be clear of them: and this is some of what they sang: + + _Bow-may singeth_: + + Hear ye never a voice come crying + Out from the waste where the winds fare wide? + ‘Sons of the Wolf, the days are dying, + And where in the clefts of the rocks do ye hide? + + ‘Into your hands hath the Sword been given, + Hard are the palms with the kiss of the hilt; + Through the trackless waste hath the road been riven + For the blade to seek to the heart of the guilt. + + ‘And yet ye bide and yet ye tarry; + Dear deem ye the sleep ’twixt hearth and board, + And sweet the maiden mouths ye marry, + And bright the blade of the bloodless sword.’ + + _Wood-wise singeth_: + + Yea, here we dwell in the arms of our Mother + The Shadowy Queen, and the hope of the Waste; + Here first we came, when never another + Adown the rocky stair made haste. + + Far is the foe, and no sword beholdeth + What deed we work and whither we wend; + Dear are the days, and the Year enfoldeth + The love of our life from end to end. + + Voice of our Fathers, why will ye move us, + And call up the sun our swords to behold? + Why will ye cry on the foeman to prove us? + Why will ye stir up the heart of the bold? + + _Bow-may singeth_: + + Purblind am I, the voice of the chiding; + Then tell me what is the thing ye bear? + What is the gift that your hands are hiding, + The gold-adorned, the dread and dear? + + _Wood-wise singeth_: + + Dark in the sheath lies the Anvil’s Brother, + Hid is the hammered Death of Men. + Would ye look on the gift of the green-clad Mother? + How then shall ye ask for a gift again? + + _The Warriors sing_: + + Show we the Sunlight the Gift of the Mother, + As foot follows foot to the foeman’s den! + Gleam Sun, breathe Wind, on the Anvil’s Brother, + For bare is the hammered Death of Men. + +Therewith they shook their naked swords in the air, and fared on eagerly, +and as swiftly as the pass would have them fare. But so it was, that +when the rearward of the Host was entering the first of the pass, and was +going on the wide smooth sward, the vanward was gotten to where there was +but a narrow space clear betwixt water and cliff; for otherwhere was a +litter of great rocks and small, hard to be threaded even by those who +knew the passes well; so that men had to tread along the very verge of +the Shivering Flood, and wary must they be, for the water ran swift and +deep betwixt banks of sheer rock half a fathom below their very +foot-soles, which had but bare space to go on the narrow a way. So it +held on for a while, and then got safer, and there was more space for +going betwixt cliff and flood; albeit it was toilsome enough, since for +some way yet there was a drift of stones to cumber their feet, some big +and some little, and some very big. After a while the way grew better, +though here and there, where the cliffs lowered, were wide screes of +loose stones that they must needs climb up and down. Thereafter for a +space was there an end of the stony cumber, but the way betwixt the river +and the cliffs narrowed again, and the black crags grew higher, and at +last so exceeding high, and the way so narrow, that the sky overhead was +to them as though they were at the bottom of a well, and men deemed that +thence they could see the stars at noontide. For some time withal had +the way been mounting up and up, though the cliffs grew higher over it; +till at last they were but going on a narrow shelf, the Shivering Flood +swirling and rattling far below them betwixt sheer rock-walls grown +exceeding high; and above them the cliffs going up towards the heavens as +black as a moonless starless night of winter. And as the flood thundered +below, so above them roared the ceaseless thunder of the wind of the +pass, that blew exceeding fierce down that strait place; so that the +skirts of their garments were wrapped about their knees by it, and their +feet were well-nigh stayed at whiles as they breasted the push thereof. + +But as they mounted higher and higher yet, the noise of the waters +swelled into a huge roar that drowned the bellowing of the prisoned wind, +and down the pass came drifting a fine rain that fell not from the sky, +for between the clouds of that drift could folk see the heavens bright +and blue above them. This rain was but the spray of the great force up +to whose steps they were climbing. + +Now the way got rougher as they mounted; but this toil was caused by +their gain; for the rock-wall, which thrust out a buttress there as if it +would have gone to the very edge of the gap where-through the flood ran, +and so have cut the way off utterly, was here somewhat broken down, and +its stones scattered down the steep bent, so that there was a passage, +though a toilsome one. + +Thus then through the wind-borne drift of the great force, through which +men could see the white waters tossing down below, amidst the clattering +thunder of the Shivering Flood and the rumble of the wind of the gap, +that tore through their garments and hair as if it would rend all to rags +and bear it away, the banners of the Wolf won their way to the crest of +the midmost height of the pass, and the long line of the Host came +clambering after them; and each band of warriors as it reached the top +cast an unheard shout from amidst the tangled fury of wind and waters. + +A little further on and all that turmoil was behind them; the sun, now +grown low, smote the wavering column of spray from the force at their +backs, till the rainbows lay bright across it; and the sunshine lay wide +over a little valley that sloped somewhat steeply to the west right up +from the edge of the river; and beyond these western slopes could men see +a low peak spreading down on all sides to the plain, till it was like to +a bossed shield, and the name of it was Shield-broad. Dark grey was the +valley everywhere, save that by the side of the water was a space of +bright green-sward hedged about toward the mountain by a wall of rocks +tossed up into wild shapes of spires and jagged points. The river itself +was spread out wide and shallow, and went rattling about great grey rocks +scattered here and there amidst it, till it gathered itself together to +tumble headlong over three slant steps into the mighty gap below. + +From the height in the pass those grey slopes seemed easy to traverse; +but the warriors of the Wolf knew that it was far otherwise, for they +were but the molten rock-sea that in time long past had flowed forth from +Shield-broad and filled up the whole valley endlong and overthwart, +cooling as it flowed, and the tumbled hedge of rock round about the green +plain by the river was where the said rock-sea had been stayed by meeting +with soft ground, and had heaped itself up round about the green-sward. +And that great rock-flood as it cooled split in divers fashions; and the +rain and weather had been busy on it for ages, so that it was worn into a +maze of narrow paths, most of which, after a little, brought the wayfarer +to a dead stop, or else led him back again to the place whence he had +started; so that only those who knew the passes throughly could thread +that maze without immeasurable labour. + +Now when the men of the Host looked from the high place whereon they +stood toward the green plain by the river, they saw on the top of that +rock-wall a red pennon waving on a spear, and beside it three or four +weaponed men gleaming bright in the evening sun; and they waved their +swords to the Host, and made lightning of the sunbeams, and the men of +the Host waved swords to them in turn. For these were the outguards of +the Host; and the place whereon they were was at whiles dwelt in by those +who would drive the spoil in Silver-dale, and midmost of the green-sward +was a booth builded of rough stones and turf, a refuge for a score of men +in rough weather. + +So the men of the vanward gat them down the hill, and made the best of +their way toward the grassy plain through that rocky maze which had once +been as a lake of molten glass; and as short as the way looked from +above, it was two hours or ever they came out of it on to the smooth +turf, and it was moonlight and night ere the House of the Face had gotten +on to the green-sward. + +There then the Host abode for that night, and after they had eaten lay +down on the green grass and slept as they might. Bow-may would have +brought the Sun-beam into the booth with some others of the women, but +she would not enter it, because she deemed that otherwise the Bride would +abide without; and the Bride, when she came up, along with the House of +the Steer, beheld the Sun-beam, that Wood-father’s children had made a +lair for her without like a hare’s form; and forsooth many a time had she +lain under the naked heaven in Shadowy Vale and the waste about it, even +as the Bride had in the meadows of Burgdale. So when the Bride was +bidden thereto, she went meekly into the booth, and lay there with others +of the damsels-at-arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. THE HOST COMETH TO THE EDGES OF SILVER-DALE. + + +SO wore the night, and when the dawn was come were the two captains +afoot, and they went from band to band to see that all was ready, and all +men were astir betimes, and by the time that the sun smote the eastern +side of Shield-broad ruddy, they had broken their fast and were dight for +departure. Then the horns blew up beside the banners, and rejoiced the +hearts of men. But by the command of the captains this was the last time +that they should sound till they blew for onset in Silver-dale, because +now would they be drawing nigher and nigher to the foemen, and they +wotted not but that wandering bands of them might be hard on the lips of +the pass, and might hear the horns’ voice, and turn to see what was +toward. + +Forth then went the banners of the Wolf, and the men of the vanward fell +to threading the rock-maze toward the north, and in two hours’ time were +clear of the Dale under Shield-broad. All went in the same order as +yesterday; but on this day the Sun-beam would bear her hauberk, and had a +sword girt to her side, and her heart was high and her speech merry. + +When they left the Dale under Shield-broad the way was easy and wide for +a good way, the river flowing betwixt low banks, and the pass being more +like a string of little valleys than a mere gap, as it had been on the +other side of the Dale. But when one third of the day was past, the way +began to narrow on them again, and to rise up little by little; and at +last the rock-walls drew close to the river, and when men looked toward +the north they saw no way, and nought but a wall. For the gap of the +Shivering Flood turned now to the east, and the Flood came down from the +east in many falls, as it were over a fearful stair, through a gap where +there was no path between the cliffs and the water, nought but the +boiling flood and its turmoil; so that they who knew not the road +wondered what they should do. + +But Folk-might led the banners to where a great buttress of the cliffs +thrust itself into the way, coming well-nigh down to the water, just at +the corner where the river turned eastward, and they got them about it as +they might, and on the other side thereof lo! another gap exceeding +strait, scarce twenty foot over, wall-sided, rugged beyond measure, going +up steeply from the great valley: a little water ran through it, mostly +filling up the floor of it from side to side; but it was but shallow. +This was now the battle-road of the Host, and the vanward entered it at +once, turning their backs upon the Shivering Flood. + +Full toilsome and dreary was that strait way; often great stones hung +above their heads, bridging the gap and hiding the sky from them; nor was +there any path for them save the stream itself; so that whiles were they +wading its waters to the knee or higher, and whiles were they striding +from stone to stone amidst the rattle of the waters, and whiles were they +stepping warily along the ledges of rock above the deeper pools, and in +all wise labouring in overcoming the rugged road amidst the twilight of +the gap. + +Thus they toiled till the afternoon was well worn, and so at last they +came to where the rock-wall was somewhat broken down on the north side, +and great rocks had fallen across the gap, and dammed up the waters, +which fell scantily over the dam from stone to stone into a pool at the +bottom of it. Up this breach, then, below the force they scrambled and +struggled, for rough indeed was the road for them; and so came they up +out of the gap on to the open hill-side, a great shoulder of the heath +sloping down from the north, and littered over with big stones, borne +thither belike by some ice-river of the earlier days; and one great rock +was in special as great as the hall of a wealthy goodman, and shapen like +to a hall with hipped gables, which same the men of the Wolf called +House-stone. + +There then the noise and clatter of the vanward rose up on the face of +the heath, and men were exceeding joyous that they had come so far +without mishap. Therewith came weaponed men out from under House-stone, +and they came toward the men of the vanward, and they were a half-score +of the forerunners of the Wolf; therefore Folk-might and Face-of-god fell +at once into speech with them, and had their tidings; and when they had +heard them, they saw nought to hinder the host from going on their road +to Silver-dale forthright; and there were still three hours of daylight +before them. So the vanward of the host tarried not, and the captains +left word with the men from under House-stone that the rest of the Host +should fare on after them speedily, and that they should give this word +to each company, as men came up from out the gap. Then they fared +speedily up the hillside, and in an hour’s wearing had come to the crest +thereof, and to where the ground fell steadily toward the north, and +hereabout the scattered stones ceased, and on the other side of the crest +the heath began to be soft and boggy, and at last so soft, that if they +had not been wisely led, they had been bemired oftentimes. At last they +came to where the flows that trickled through the mires drew together +into a stream, so that men could see it running; and thereon some of the +Woodlanders cried out joyously that the waters were running north; and +then all knew that they were drawing nigh to Silver-dale. + +No man they met on the road, nor did they of Shadowy Vale look to meet +any; because the Dusky Men were not great hunters for the more part, +except it were of men, and especially of women; and, moreover, these +hill-slopes of the mountain-necks led no-whither and were utterly waste +and dreary, and there was nought to be seen there but snipes and bitterns +and whimbrel and plover, and here and there a hill-fox, or the great erne +hanging over the heath on his way to the mountain. + +When sunset came, they were getting clear of the miry ground, and the +stream which they had come across amidst of the mires had got clearer and +greater, and rattled down between wide stony sides over the heath; and +here and there it deepened as it cleft its way through little knolls that +rose out of the face of the mountain-neck. As the Host climbed one of +these and was come to its topmost (it was low enough not to turn the +stream), Face-of-god looked and beheld dark-blue mountains rising up far +off before him, and higher than these, but away to the east, the snowy +peaks of the World-mountains. Then he called to mind what he had seen +from the Burg of the Runaways, and he took Folk-might by the arm, and +pointed toward those far-off mountains. + +‘Yea,’ said Folk-might, ‘so it is, War-leader. Silver-dale lieth between +us and yonder blue ridges, and it is far nigher to us than to them.’ + +But the Sun-beam came close to those twain, and took Face-of-god by the +hand and said: ‘O Gold-mane, dost thou see?’ and he turned about and +beheld her, and saw how her cheeks flamed and her eyes glittered, and he +said in a low voice: ‘To-morrow for mirth or silence, for life or death.’ + +But the whole vanward as they came up stayed to behold the sight of the +mountains on the other side of Silver-dale, and the banners of the Folk +hung over their heads, moving but little in the soft air of the evening: +so went they on their ways. + +The sun sank, and dusk came on them as they followed down the stream, and +night came, and was clear and starlit, though the moon was not yet risen. +Now was the ground firm and the grass sweet and flowery, and wind-worn +bushes were scattered round about them, as they began to go down into the +ghyll that cleft the wall of Silver-dale, and the night-wind blew in +their faces from the very Dale and place of the Battle to be. The path +down was steep at first, but the ghyll was wide, and the sides of it no +longer straight walls, as in the gaps of their earlier journey, but +broken, sloping back, and (as they might see on the morrow) partly of big +stones and shaly grit, partly grown over with bushes and rough grass, +with here and there a little stream trickling down their sides. As they +went, the ghyll widened out, till at last they were in a valley going +down to the plain, in places steep, in places flat and smooth, the stream +ever rattling down the midst of it, and they on the west side thereof. +The vale was well grassed, and oak-trees and ash and holly and hazel grew +here and there about it; and at last the Host had before it a wood which +filled the vale from side to side, not much tangled with undergrowth, and +quite clear of it nigh to the stream-side. Thereinto the vanward +entered, but went no long way ere the leaders called a halt and bade +pitch the banners, for that there should they abide the daylight. Thus +it had been determined at the Council of the Hall of the Wolf; for +Folk-might had said: ‘With an Host as great as ours, and mostly of men +come into a land of which they know nought at all, an onslaught by night +is perilous: yea, and our foes should be over-much scattered, and we +should have to wander about seeking them. Let us rather abide in the +wood of Wood-dale till the morning, and then display our banners on the +hill-side above Silver-dale, so that they may gather together to fall +upon us: in no case shall they keep us out of the Dale.’ + +There then they stayed, and as each company came up to the wood, they +were marshalled into their due places, so that they might set the battle +in array on the edge of Silver-dale. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. FACE-OF-GOD LOOKETH ON SILVER-DALE: THE BOWMEN’S BATTLE. + + +THERE then they rested, as folk wearied with the toilsome journey, when +they had set sure watches round about their campment; and they ate +quietly what meat they had with them, and so gat them to sleep in the +wood on the eve of battle. + +But not all slept; for the two captains went about amongst the companies, +Folk-might to the east, Face-of-god to the west, to look to the watches, +and to see that all was ordered duly. Also the Sun-beam slept not, but +she lay beside Bow-may at the foot of an oak-tree; she watched +Face-of-god as he went away amidst the men of the Host, and watched and +waked abiding his returning footsteps. + +The night was well worn by then he came back to his place in the vanward, +and on his way back he passed through the folk of the Steer laid along on +the grass, all save those of the watch, and the light of the moon high +aloft was mingled with the light of the earliest dawn; and as it happed +he looked down, and lo! close to his feet the face of the Bride as she +lay beside her grand-sire, her head pillowed on a bundle of bracken. She +was sleeping soundly like a child who has been playing all day, and whose +sleep has come to him unsought and happily. Her hands were laid together +by her side; her cheek was as fair and clear as it was wont to be at her +best; her face looked calm and happy, and a lock of her dark-red hair +strayed from her uncovered head over her breast and lay across her +wrists, so peacefully she slept. + +Face-of-god turned his eyes from her at once, and went by swiftly, and +came to his own company. The Sun-beam saw him coming, and rose +straightway to her feet from beside Bow-may, who lay fast asleep, and she +held out her hands to him; and he took them and kissed them, and he cast +his arms about her and kissed her mouth and her face, and she his in +likewise; and she said: + +‘O Gold-mane, if this were but the morrow of to-morrow! Yet shall all be +well; shall it not?’ + +Her voice was low, but it waked Bow-may, who sat up at once broad awake, +after the manner of a hunter of the waste ever ready for the next thing +to betide, and moreover the Sun-beam had been in her thoughts these two +days, and she feared for her, lest she should be slain or maimed. Now +she smiled on the Sun-beam and said: + +‘What is it? Does thy mind forebode evil? That needeth not. I tell +thee it is not so ill for us of the sword to be in Silver-dale. Thrice +have I been there since the Overthrow, and never more than a half-score +in company, and yet am I whole to-day.’ + +‘Yea, sister,’ said Face-of-god, ‘but in past times ye did your deed and +then fled away; but now we come to abide here, and this night is the last +of lurking.’ + +‘Ah,’ she said, ‘a little way from this I saw such things that we had +good will to abide here longer, few as we were, but that we feared to be +taken alive.’ + +‘What things were these?’ said Face-of-god. + +‘Nay,’ she said, ‘I will not tell thee now; but mayhap in the lighted +winter feast-hall, when the kindred are so nigh us and about us that they +seem to us as if they were all the world, I may tell it thee; or mayhap I +never shall.’ + +Said the Sun-beam, smiling: ‘Thou wilt ever be talking, Bow-may. Now let +the War-leader depart, for he will have much to do.’ + +And she was well at ease that she had seen Face-of-god again; but he +said: + +‘Nay, not so much; all is well-nigh done; in an hour it will be broad +day, and two hours thereafter shall the Banner be displayed on the edge +of Silver-dale.’ + +The cheek of the Sun-beam flushed, and paled again, as she said: ‘Yea, we +shall stand even as our Fathers stood on the day when, coming from off +the waste, they beheld it, and knew it would be theirs. Ah me! how have +I longed for this morn. But now—Tell me, Gold-mane, dost thou deem that +I am afraid? And I whom thou hast deemed to be a God.’ + +Quoth Bow-may: ‘Thou shalt deem her twice a God ere noon-tide, brother +Gold-mane. But come now! the hour of deadly battle is at hand, and we +may not laugh that away; and therefore I bid thee remember, Gold-mane, +how thou didst promise to kiss me once more on the verge of deadly +battle.’ + +Therewith she stood up before him, and he tarried not, but kind and +smiling took her face between his two hands and kissed her lips, and she +cast her arms about him and kissed him, and then sank down on the grass +again, and turned from him, and laid her face amongst the grass and the +bracken, and they could see that she was weeping, and her body was shaken +with sobs. But the Sun-beam knelt down to her, and caressed her with her +hand, and spake kind words to her softly, while Face-of-god went his ways +to meet Folk-might. + +Now was the dawn fading into full daylight; and between dawn and sunrise +were all men stirring; for the watch had waked the hundred-leaders, and +they the leaders of scores and half-scores, and they the whole folk; and +they sat quietly in the wood and made no noise. + +In the night the watch of the Sickle had fallen in with a thrall who had +stolen up from the Dale to set gins for hares, and now in the early +morning they brought him to the War-leader. He was even such a man as +those with whom Face-of-god had fallen in before, neither better nor +worse than most of them: he was sore afraid at first, but by then he was +come to the captains he understood that he had happened upon friends; but +he was dull of comprehension and slow of speech. Albeit Folk-might +gathered from him that the Dusky Men had some inkling of the onslaught; +for he said that they had been gathering together in the marketplace of +Silver-stead, and would do so again soon. Moreover, the captains deemed +from his speech that those new tribes had come to hand sooner than was +looked for, and were even now in the Dale. Folk-might smiled as one who +is not best pleased when he heard these tidings; but Face-of-god was glad +to hear thereof; for what he loathed most was that the war should drag +out in hunting of scattered bands of the foe. Herewith came Dallach to +them as they talked (for Face-of-god had sent for him), and he fell to +questioning the man further; by whose answers it seemed that many men +also had come into the Dale from Rose-dale, so that they of the kindreds +were like to have their hands full. Lastly Dallach drew from the thrall +that it was on that very morning that the great Folk-mote of the Dusky +Men should be holden in the market-place of the Stead, which was right +great, and about it were the biggest of the houses wherein the men of the +kindred had once dwelt. + +So when they had made an end of questioning the thrall, and had given him +meat and drink, they asked him if he would take weapons in his hand and +lead them on the ways into the Dale, bidding him look about the wood and +note how great and mighty an host they were. And the carle yeasaid this, +after staring about him a while, and they gave him spear and shield, and +he went with the vanward as a way-leader. + +Again presently came a watch of the Shepherds, and they had found a man +and a woman dead and stark naked hanging to the boughs of a great +oak-tree deep in the wood. This men knew for some vengeance of the Dusky +Men, for it was clear to see that these poor people had been sorely +tormented before they were slain. Also the same watch had stumbled on +the dead body of an old woman, clad in rags, lying amongst the rank grass +about a little flow; she was exceeding lean and hunger-starved, and in +her hand was a frog which she had half eaten. And Dallach, when he heard +of this, said that it was the wont of the Dusky Men to slay their thralls +when they were past work, or to drive them into the wilderness to die. + +Lastly came a watch from the men of the Face, having with them two more +thralls, lusty young men; these they had come upon in company of their +master, who had brought them up into the wood to shoot him a buck, and +therefore they bare bows and arrows. The watch had slain the master +straightway while the thralls stood looking on. They were much afraid of +the weaponed men, but answered to the questioning much readier than the +first man; for they were household thralls, and better fed and clad than +he, who was but a toiler in the fields. They yeasaid all his tale, and +said moreover that the Folk-mote of the Dusky Men should be holden in the +market-place that forenoon, and that most of the warriors should be +there, both the new-comers and the Rose-dale lords, and that without +doubt they should be under arms. + +To these men also they gave a good sword and a helm each, and bade them +be brisk with their bows, and they said yea to marching with the Host; +and indeed they feared nothing so much as being left behind; for if they +fell into the hands of the Dusky Men, and their master missing, they +should first be questioned with torments, and then slain in the evillest +manner. + +Now whereas things had thus betid, and that they knew thus much of their +foemen, Face-of-god called all the chieftains together, and they sat on +the green grass and held counsel amongst them, and to one and all it +seemed good that they should suffer the Dusky Men to gather together +before they meddled with them, and then fall upon them in such order and +such time as should seem good to the captains watching how things went; +and this would be easy, whereas they were all lying in the wood in the +same order as they would stand in battle-array if they were all drawn up +together on the brow of the hill. Albeit Face-of-god deemed it good, +after he had heard all that they who had been in the Stead could tell him +thereof, that the Shepherd-Folk, who were more than three long hundreds, +and they of the Steer, the Bridge, and the Bull, four hundreds in all, +should take their places eastward of the Woodlanders who had led the +vanward. + +Straightway the word was borne to these men, and the shift was made: so +that presently the Woodlanders were amidmost of the Host, and had with +them on their right hands the Men of the Steer, the Bridge, and the Bull, +and beyond them the Shepherd-Folk. But on their left hand lay the Men of +the Vine, then they of the Sickle, and lastly the Men of the Face, and +these three kindreds were over five hundreds of warriors: as for the Men +of the Wolf, they abode at first with those companies which they had led +through the wastes, though this was changed afterwards. + +All this being done, Face-of-god gave out that all men should break their +fast in peace and leisure; and while men were at their meat, Folk-might +spake to Face-of-god and said: ‘Come, brother, for I would show thee a +goodly thing; and thou, Dallach, come with us.’ + +Then he brought them by paths in the wood till Face-of-god saw the sky +shine white between the tree-boles, and in a little while they were come +well-nigh out of the thicket, and then they went warily; for before them +was nought but the slopes of Wood-dale, going down steeply into +Silver-dale, with nought to hinder the sight of it, save here and there +bushes or scattered trees; and so fair and lovely it was that Face-of-god +could scarce forbear to cry out. He saw that it was only at the upper or +eastern end, where the mountains of the Waste went round about it, that +the Dale was narrow; it soon widened out toward the west, and for the +most part was encompassed by no such straight-sided a wall as was +Burgdale, but by sloping hills and bents, mostly indeed somewhat higher +and steeper than the pass wherein they were, but such as men could well +climb if they had a mind to, and there were any end to their journey. +The Dale went due west a good way, and then winded about to the +southwest, and so was hidden from them thereaway by the bents that lay on +their left hand. As it was wider, so it was not so plain a ground as was +Burgdale, but rose in knolls and little hills here and there. A river +greater than the Weltering Water wound about amongst the said mounds; and +along the side of it out in the open dale were many goodly houses and +homesteads of stone. The knolls were mostly covered over with vines, and +there were goodly and great trees in groves and clumps, chiefly oak and +sweet chestnut and linden; many were the orchards, now in blossom, about +the homesteads; the pastures of the neat and horses spread out bright +green up from the water-side, and deeper green showed the acres of the +wheat on the lower slopes of the knolls, and in wide fields away from the +river. + +Just below the pitch of the hill whereon they were, lay Silver-stead, the +town of the Dale. Hitherto it had been an unfenced place; but Folk-might +pointed to where on the western side a new white wall was rising, and on +which, young as the day yet was, men were busy laying the stones and +spreading the mortar. Fair seemed that town to Face-of-god: the houses +were all builded of stone, and some of the biggest were roofed with lead, +which also as well as silver was dug out of the mountains at the eastern +end of the Dale. The market-place was clear to see from where they +stood, though there were houses on all sides of it, so wide it was. From +their standing-place it was but three furlongs to this heart of +Silver-dale; and Face-of-god could see brightly-clad men moving about in +it already. High above their heads he beheld two great clots of scarlet +and yellow raised on poles and pitched in front of a great stone-built +hall roofed with lead, which stood amidmost of the west end of the Place, +and betwixt those poles he saw on a mound with long slopes at its sides +somewhat of white stone, and amidmost of the whole Place a great stack of +faggot-wood built up four-square. Those red and yellow things on the +poles he deemed would be the banners of the murder-carles; and Folk-might +told him that even so it was, and that they were but big bunches of +strips of woollen cloth, much like to great ragmops, save that the rags +were larger and longer: no other token of war, said Folk-might, did those +folk carry, save a crookbladed sword, smeared with man’s blood, and +bigger than any man might wield in battle. + +‘Art thou far-seeing, War-leader?’ quoth he. ‘What canst thou see in the +market-place?’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Far-seeing am I above most men, and I see in the Place +a man in scarlet standing by the banner, which is pitched in front of the +great stone hall, near to the mound with the white stone on it; and +meseemeth he beareth a great horn in his hand.’ + +Said Folk-might: ‘Yea, and that stone hall was our Mote-house when we +were lords of the Dale, and thence it was that they who are now thralls +of the Dusky Men sent to them their message and token of yielding. And +as for that white stone, it is the altar of their god; for they have but +one, and he is that same crook-bladed sword. And now that I look, I see +a great stack of wood amidmost the market-place, and well I know what +that betokeneth.’ + +‘Lo you!’ said Face-of-god, ‘the man with the horn is gone up on to the +altar-mound, and meseemeth he is setting the little end of the horn to +his mouth.’ + +‘Hearken then!’ said Folk-might. And in a moment came the hoarse +tuneless sound of the horn down the wind towards them; and Folk-might +said: + +‘I deem I should know what that blast meaneth; and now is it time that +the Host drew nigher to set them in array behind these very trees. But +if ye will, War-leader, we will abide here and watch the ways of the +foemen, and send Dallach with the word to the Host; also I would have +thee suffer me to bid hither at once two score and ten of the best of the +bowmen of our folk and the Woodlanders, and Wood-wise to lead them, for +he knoweth well the land hereabout, and what is good to do.’ + +‘It is good,’ said Face-of-god. ‘Be speedy, Dallach!’ + +So Dallach departed, running lightly, and the two chiefs abode there; and +the horn in Silver-stead blew at whiles for a little, and then stayed; +and Folk-might said: + +‘Lo you! they come flockmeal to the Mote-stead; the Place will be filled +ere long.’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Will they make offerings to their god at the hallowing +in of their Folk-mote? Where then are the slaughter-beasts?’ + +‘They shall not long be lacking,’ said Folk-might. ‘See you it is +getting thronged about the altar and the Mote-house.’ + +Now there were four ways into the Market-place of Silver-stead turned +toward the four aírts, and the midmost of the kindreds’ battle looked +right down the southern one, which went up to the wood, but stopped there +in a mere woodland path, and the more part of the town lay north and west +of this way, albeit there was a way from the east also. But the +hill-side just below the two captains lay two furlongs west of this +southern way; and it went down softly till it was gotten quite near to +the backs of the houses on the south side of the Market-place, and was +sprinkled scantly with bushes and trees as aforesaid; but at last were +there more bushes, which well-nigh made a hedge across it, reaching from +the side of the southern way; and a foot or two beyond these bushes the +ground fell by a steep and broken bent down to the level of the +Market-place, and betwixt that fringe of bushes and the backs of the +houses on the south side of the Place was less it maybe than a full +furlong: but the southern road aforesaid went down softly into the +Market-place, since it had been fashioned so by men. + +Now the two chiefs heard a loud blast of horns come up from the town, and +lo! a great crowd of men wending their ways down the road from the north, +and they came into the market-place with spears and other weapons tossing +in the air, and amidst of these men, who seemed to be all of the +warriors, they saw as they drew nigher some two score and ten of men clad +in long raiment of yellow and scarlet, with tall spiring hats of strange +fashion on their heads, and in their hands long staves with great blades +like scythes done on to them; and again, in the midst of these yellow and +red glaive-bearers, in the very heart of the throng were some score of +naked folk, they deemed both men and women, but were not sure, so close +was the throng; nor could they see if they were utterly naked. + +‘Lo you, brother!’ quoth Folk-might, ‘said I not that the beasts for the +hewing should not tarry? Yonder naked folk are even they: and ye may +well deem that they are the thralls of the Dusky Men; and meseemeth by +the whiteness of their skins they be of the best of them. For these +felons, it is like, look to winning great plenty of thralls in Burgdale, +and so set the less store on them they have, and may expend them freely.’ + +As he spake they heard the sound of men marching in the wood behind them, +and they turned about and saw that there was come Wood-wise, and with him +upwards of two score and ten of the bowmen of the Woodlanders and the +Wolf—huntsmen, cragsmen, and scourers of the Waste; men who could shoot +the chaffinch on the twig a hundred yards aloof; who could make a +hiding-place of the bennets of the wayside grass, or the stem of the +slender birch-tree. With these must needs be Bow-may, who was the +closest shooter of all the kindreds. + +So then Wood-wise told the War-leader that Dallach had given the word to +the Host, and that all men were astir and would be there presently in +their ordered companies; and Face-of-god spake to Folk-might, and said: +‘Chief of the Wolf, wilt thou not give command to these bowmen, and set +them to the work; for thou wottest thereof.’ + +‘Yea, that will I,’ said Folk-might, and turned to Wood-wise, and said: +‘Wood-wise, get ye down the slope, and loose on these felons, who have a +murder on hand, if so be ye have a chance to do it wisely. But in any +case come ye all back; for all shall be needed yet to-day. So flee if +they pursue, for ye shall have us to flee to. Now be ye wary, nor let +the curse of the Wolf and the Face lie on your slothfulness.’ + +Wood-wise did but nod his head and lift his hand to his fellows, who set +off after him down the slope without more tarrying. They went very +warily, as if they were hunting a quarry which would flee from them; and +they crept amongst the grass and stones from bush to bush like serpents, +and so, unseen by the Dusky Men, who indeed were busied over their own +matters, they came to the fringe of bushes above the broken ground +aforesaid, and there they took their stand, and before them below those +steep banks was but the space at the back of the houses. As to the +houses, as aforesaid, they were not so high as elsewhere about the +Market-place; and at the end of a long low hall there was a gap between +its gable and the next house, whereby they had a clear sight of the Place +about the god’s altar and the banners, and the great hall of Silver-dale, +with the double stair that went up to the door thereof. + +There then they made them ready, and Wood-wise set men to watch that none +should come sidelong on them unawares; their bows were bent and their +quivers open, and they were eager for the fray. + +Thus they beheld the Market-place from their cover, and saw that those +folk who were to be hewn to the god were now standing facing the altar in +a half-ring, and behind them in another half-ring the glaive-bearers who +had brought them thither stood glaive in hand ready to hew them down when +the token should be given; and these were indeed the priests of the god. + +There was clear space round about these poor slaughter-thralls, so that +the bowmen could see them well, and they told up a score of them, half +men, half women, and they were all stark naked save for wreaths of +flowers about their middles and their necks; and they had shackles of +lead about their wrists; which same lead should be taken out of the fire +wherein they should be burned, and from the shape it should take after it +had passed through the fire would the priests foretell the luck of the +deed to be done. + +It was clear to be seen from thence that Folk-might was right when he +said that these slaughter-thralls were of the best of the house-thralls +and bed-mates of the Dusky Men, and that these felons were open-handed to +their god, and would not cheat him, or withhold from him the best and +most delicate of all they had. + +Now spake Wood-wise to those about him: ‘It is sure that Folk-might would +have us give these poor thralls a chance, and that we must loose upon the +felons who would hew them down; and if we are to come back again, we can +go no nigher. What sayest thou, Bow-may? Is it nigh enough? Can aught +be done?’ + +‘Yea, yea,’ she said, ‘nigh enough it is; but let Gold-ring be with me +and half a score of the very best, whether they be of our folk or the +Woodlanders, men who cannot miss such a mark; and when we have loosed, +then let all loose, and stay not till our shot be spent. Haste, now +haste! time presseth; for if the Host showeth on the brow of the hill, +these felons will hew down their slaughter-beasts before they turn on +their foemen. Let the grey-goose wing speed trouble and confusion +amongst them.’ + +But ere she had done her words Wood-wise had got to speaking quietly with +the Woodlanders; and Bears-bane, who was amidst them, chose out eight of +the best of his folk, men who doubted nothing of hitting whatever they +could see in the Market-place; and they took their stand for shooting, +and with them besides Bow-may were two women and four men of the Wolf, +and Gold-ring withal, a carle of fifty winters, long, lean, and wiry, a +fell shooter if ever anyone were. + +So all these notched their shafts and laid them on the yew, and each had +between the two last fingers of the shaft-hand another shaft ready, and a +half score more stuck into the ground before him. + +Now giveth Wood-wise the word to these sixteen as to which of the felons +with the glaives they shall each one aim at; and he saith withal in a +soft voice: ‘Help cometh from the Hill; soon shall battle be joined in +Silver-dale.’ + +Thus stand they watching Bow-may and Gold-ring till they draw home the +notches; and amidst their waiting the glaive-bearing felons fall +a-singing a harsh and ugly hymn to their crooked-sword god, and the +Market-stead is thronged endlong and overthwart with the tribes of the +Dusky Men. + +There now standeth Bow-may far-sighted and keen-eyed, her face as pale as +a linen sleeve, an awful smile on her glittering eyes and close-set lips, +and she feeling the twisted string of the red yew and the polished sides +of the notch, while the yelling song of the Dusky priests quavers now and +ends with a wild shrill cry, and she noteth the midmost of the priests +beginning to handle his weapon: then swift and steady she draweth home +the notches, while the yew bow standeth still as the oak-bole ere the +summer storm ariseth, and the twang of the sixteen strings maketh but one +fell sound as the feathered bane of men goeth on its way. + +There was silence for a moment of time in the Market of Silver-stead, as +if the bolt of the Gods had fallen there; and then arose a huge wordless +yell from those about the altar, and one of the priests who was left hove +up his glaive two-handed to smite the naked slaughter-thralls; but or +ever the stroke fell, Bow-may’s second shaft was through his throat, and +he rolled over amidst his dead fellows; and the other fifteen had loosed +with her, and then even as they could Wood-wise and the others of their +company; and all they notched and loosed without tarrying, and no shout, +no word came from their lips, only the twanging strings spake for them; +for they deemed the minutes that hurried by were worth much joy of their +lives to be. And few indeed were the passing minutes ere the dead men +lay in heaps about the Altar of the Crooked Sword, and the wounded men +wallowed amidst them. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. OF THE ONSLAUGHT OF THE MEN OF THE STEER, THE BRIDGE, AND +THE BULL. + + +WILD was the turmoil and confusion in the Market-stead; for the more part +of the men therein knew not what had befallen about the altar, though +some clomb up to the top of that stack of faggots built for the burning +of the thralls, and when they saw what was toward fell to yelling and +cursing; and their fellows on the plain Place could not hear their story +for the clamour, and they also fell to howling as if a wood full of wild +dogs was there. + +And still the shafts rained down on that throng from the Bent of the +Bowmen, for another two score men of the Woodlanders had crept down the +hill to them, and shafts failed them not. But the Dusky Men about the +altar, for all their terror, or even maybe because of it, now began to +turn upon the scarce-seen foemen, and to press up wildly toward the +hill-side, though as it were without any order or aim. Every man of them +had his weapons, and those no mere gilded toys, but their very tools of +battle; and some, but no great number, had their bows with them and a few +shafts; and these began to shoot at whatsoever they could see on the +hill-side, but at first so wildly and hurriedly that they did no harm. + +It must be said of them that at first only those about the altar fell on +toward the hill; for those about the road that led southward knew not +what had betided nor whither to turn. So that at this beginning of the +battle, of all the thousands in the great Place it was but a few hundreds +that set on the Bent of the Bowmen, and at these the bowmen of the +kindreds shot so close and so wholly together that they fell one over +another in the narrow ways between the houses whereby they must needs go +to gather on the plain ground betwixt the backs of the houses and the +break of the hill-side. But little by little the archers of the Dusky +Men gathered behind the corpses of the slain, and fell to shooting at +what they could see of the men of the kindreds, which at that while was +not much, for as bold as they were, they fought like wary hunters of the +Wood and the Waste. + +But now at last throughout all that throng of Felons in the Market-place +the tale began to spread of foemen come into the Dale and shooting from +the Bents, and all they turned their faces to the hill, and the whole set +of the throng was thitherward; though they fared but slowly, so evil was +the order of them, each man hindering his neighbour as he went. And not +only did the Dusky Men come flockmeal toward the Bent of the Bowmen, but +also they jostled along toward the road that led southward. That beheld +Wood-wise from the Bent, and he was minded to get him and his aback, now +that they had made so great a slaughter of the foemen; and two or three +of his fellows had been hurt by arrows, and Bow-may, she would have been +slain thrice over but for the hammer-work of the Alderman. And no marvel +was that; for now she stood on a little mound not half covered by a thin +thorn-bush, and notched and loosed at whatever was most notable, as +though she were shooting at the mark on a summer evening in Shadowy Vale. +But as Wood-wise was at point to give the word to depart, from behind +them rang out the merry sound of the Burgdale horns, and he turned to +look at the wood-side, and lo! thereunder was the hill bright and dark +with men-at-arms, and over them floated the Banners of the Wolf, and the +Banners of the Steer, the Bridge, and the Bull. Then gave forth the +bowmen of the kindreds their first shout, and they made no stay in their +shooting; but shot the eagerer, for they deemed that help would come +without their turning about to draw it to them: and even so it was. For +straightway down the bent came striding Face-of-god betwixt the two +Banners of the Wolf, and beside him were Red-wolf the tall and War-grove, +and therewithal Wood-wont and Wood-wicked, and many other men of the +Wolf; for now that the men of the kindreds had been brought face to face +with the foe, and there was less need of them for way-leaders, the more +part of them were liefer to fight under their own banner along with the +Woodlanders; so that the company of those who went under the Wolves was +more than three long hundreds and a half; and the bowmen on the edge of +the bent shouted again and merrily, when they felt that their brothers +were amongst them, and presently was the arrow-storm at its fiercest, and +the twanging of bow-strings and the whistle of the shafts was as the wind +among the clefts of the mountains; for all the new-comers were bowmen of +the best. + +But the kindreds of the Steer, the Bridge, and the Bull, they hung yet a +while longer on the hills’ brow, their banners floating over them and +their horns blowing; and the Dusky Felons in the Market-place beheld +them, and fear and rage at once filled their hearts, and a fierce and +dreadful yell brake out from them, and joyously did the Men of Burgdale +answer them, and song arose amongst them even such as this: + + _The Men of the Bridge sing_: + + Why stand ye together, why bear ye the shield, + Now the calf straineth tether at edge of the field? + + Now the lamb bleateth stronger and waters run clear, + And the day groweth longer and glad is the year? + + Now the mead-flowers jostle so thick as they stand, + And singeth the throstle all over the land? + + _The Men of the Steer sing_: + + No cloud the day darkened, no thunder we heard, + But the horns’ speech we hearkened as men unafeared. + + Yea, so merry it sounded, we turned from the Dale, + Where all wealth abounded, to wot of its tale. + + _The Men of the Bridge sing_: + + What white boles then bear ye, what wealth of the woods? + What chafferers hear ye bid loud for your goods? + + _The Men of the Bull sing_: + + O the bright beams we carry are stems of the steel; + Nor long shall we tarry across them to deal. + + Hark the men of the cheaping, how loudly they cry + On the hook for the reaping of men doomed to die! + + _They all sing_: + + Heave spear up! fare forward, O Men of the Dale! + For the Warrior, our war-ward, shall hearken the tale. + +Therewith they ceased a moment, and then gave a great and hearty shout +all together, and all their horns blew, and they moved on down the hill +as one man, slowly and with no jostling, the spear-men first, and then +they of the axe and the sword; and on their flanks the deft archers +loosed on the stumbling jostling throng of the Dusky Men, who for their +part came on drifting and surging up the road to the hill. + +But when those big spearmen of the Dale had gone a little way the horns’ +voice died out, and their great-staved spears rose up from their +shoulders into the air, and stood so a moment, and then slowly fell +forward, as the oars of the longship fall into the row-locks, and then +over the shoulders of the foremost men showed the steel of the five ranks +behind them, and their own spears cast long bars of shadow on the +whiteness of the sunny road. No sound came from them now save the rattle +of their armour and the tramp of their steady feet; but from the Dusky +Men rose up hideous confused yelling, and those that could free +themselves from the tangle of the throng rushed desperately against the +on-rolling hedge of steel, and the whole throng shoved on behind them. +Then met steel and men; here and there an ash-stave broke; here and there +a Dusky Felon rolled himself unhurt under the ash-staves, and hewed the +knees of the Dalesmen, and a tall man came tottering down; but what men +or wood-wights could endure the push of spears of those mighty +husbandmen? The Dusky Ones shrunk back yelling, or turned their backs +and rushed at their own folk with such fierce agony that they entered +into the throng, till the terror of the spear reached to the midmost of +it and swayed them back on the hindermost; for neither was there outgate +for the felons on the flanks of the spearmen, since there the feathered +death beset them, and the bowmen (and the Bride amongst the foremost) +shot wholly together, and no shaft flew idly. But the wise leaders of +the Dalesmen would not that they should thrust in too far amongst the +howling throng of the Dusky Men, lest they should be hemmed in by them; +for they were but a handful in regard to them: so there they stayed, +barring the way to the Dusky Men, and the bowmen still loosed from the +flanks of them, or aimed deftly from betwixt the ranks of the spearmen. + +And now was there a space of ten strides or more betwixt the Dalesmen and +their foes, over which the spears hung terribly, nor durst the Dusky Men +adventure there; and thereon was nought but men dead or sorely hurt. +Then suddenly a horn rang thrice shrilly over all the noise and clamour +of the throng, and the ranks of the spearmen opened, and forth into that +space strode two score of the swordsmen and axe-wielders of the Dale, +their weapons raised in their hands, and he who led them was Iron-hand of +the House of the Bull: tall he was, wide-shouldered, exceeding strong, +but beardless and fair-faced. He bore aloft a two-edged sword, +broad-bladed, exceeding heavy, so that few men could wield it in battle, +but not right long; it was an ancient weapon, and his father before him +had called it the Barley-scythe. With him were some of the best of the +kindreds, as Wolf of Whitegarth, Long-hand of Oakholt, Hart of Highcliff, +and War-well the captain of the Bridge. These made no tarrying on that +space of the dead, but cried aloud their cries: ‘For the Burg and the +Steer! for the Dale and the Bridge! for the Dale and the Bull!’ and so +fell at once on the Felons; who fled not, nor had room to flee; and also +they feared not the edge-weapons so sorely as they feared those huge +spears. So they turned fiercely on the swordsmen, and chiefly on +Iron-hand, as he entered in amongst them the first of all, hewing to the +right hand and the left, and many a man fell before the Barley-scythe; +for they were but little before him. Yet as one fell another took his +place, and hewed at him with the steel axe and the crooked sword; and +with many strokes they clave his shield and brake his helm and rent his +byrny, while he heeded little save smiting with the Barley-scythe, and +the blood ran from his arm and his shoulder and his thigh. + +But War-well had entered in among the foe on his left hand, and +unshielded hove up a great broad-bladed axe, that clave the iron helms of +the Dusky Men, and rent their horn-scaled byrnies. He was not very tall, +but his shoulders were huge and his arms long, and nought could abide his +stroke. He cleared a ring round Iron-hand, whose eyes were growing dim +as the blood flowed from him, and hewed three strokes before him; then +turned and drew the champion out of the throng, and gave him into the +arms of his fellows to stanch the blood that drained away the might of +his limbs; and then with a great wordless roar leaped back again on the +Dusky Men as the lion leapeth on the herd of swine; and they shrank away +before him; and all the swordsmen shouted, ‘For the Bridge, for the +Bridge!’ and pressed on the harder, smiting down all before them. On his +left hand now was Hart of Highcliff wielding a good sword hight +Chip-driver, wherewith he had slain and hurt a many, fighting wisely with +sword and shield, and driving the point home through the joints of the +armour. But even therewith, as he drave a great stroke at a lord of the +Dusky Ones, a cast-spear came flying and smote him on the breast, so that +he staggered, and the stroke fell flatlings on the shield-boss of his +foe, and Chip-driver brake atwain nigh the hilts; but Hart closed with +him, and smote him on the face with the pommel, and tore his axe from his +hand and clave his skull therewith, and slew him with his own weapon, and +fought on valiantly beside War-well. + +Now War-well had fought so fiercely that he had rent his own hauberk with +the might of his strokes, and as he raised his arm to smite a huge +stroke, a deft man of the Felons thrust the spike of his war-axe up under +his arm; and when War-well felt the smart of the steel, he turned on that +man, and, letting his axe fall down to his wrist and hang there by its +loop, he caught the foeman up by the neck and the breech, and drave him +against the other Dusky Ones before him, so that their weapons pierced +and rent their own friend and fellow. Then he put forth the might of his +arms and the pith of his body, and hove up that felon and cast him on to +the heads of his fellow murder-carles, so that he rent them and was rent +by them. Then War-well fell on again with the axe, and all the champions +of the Dale shouted and fell on with him, and the foe shrank away; and +the Dalesmen cleared a space five fathoms’ length before them, and the +spearmen drew onward and stood on the space whereon the first onslaught +had been. + +Then drew those hewers of the Dale together, and forth from the company +came the man that bare the Banner of the Bridget and the champions +gathered round him, and they ordered their ranks and strode with the +Banner before them three times to and fro across the road athwart the +front of the spearmen, and then with a great shout drew back within the +spear-hedge. Albeit five of the champions of the Dale had been slain +outright there, and the more part of them hurt more or less. + +But when all were well within the ranks, once again blew the horn, and +all the spears sank to the rest, and the kindreds drave the spear-furrow, +and a space was swept clear before them, and the cries and yells of the +Dusky Men were so fierce and wild that the rough voices of the Dalesmen +were drowned amidst them. + +Forth then came every bowman of the kindred that was there and loosed on +the Dusky Men; and they forsooth had some bowmen amongst them, but cooped +up and jostled as they were they shot but wildly; whereas each shaft of +the Dale went home truly. + +But amongst the bowmen forth came the Bride in her glittering war-gear, +and stepped lightly to the front of the spearmen. Her own yew bow had +been smitten by a shaft and broken in her hand: so she had caught up a +short horn bow and a quiver from one of the slain of the Dusky Men; and +now she knelt on one knee under the shadow of the spears nigh to her +grandsire Hall-ward, and with a pale face and knitted brow notched and +loosed, and notched and loosed on the throng of foemen, as if she were +some daintily fashioned engine of war. + +So fared the battle on the road that went from the south into the +Market-stead. Valiantly had the kindred fought there, and no man of them +had blenched, and much had they won; but the way was perilous before +them, for the foe was many and many. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. OF FACE-OF-GOD’S ONSLAUGHT. + + +NOW the banners of the Wolf flapped and rippled over the heads of the +Woodlanders and the Men of the Wolf; and the men shot all they might, nor +took heed now to cover themselves against the shafts of the Dusky Men. +As for these, for all they were so many, their arrow-shot was no great +matter, for they were in very evil order, as has been said; and moreover, +their rage was so great to come to handy strokes with these foemen, that +some of them flung away their bows to brandish the axe or the sword. +Nevertheless were some among the kindred hurt or slain by their arrows. + +Now stood Face-of-god with the foremost; and from where he stood he could +see somewhat of the battle of the Dalesmen, and he wotted that it was +thriving; therefore he looked before him and close around him, and noted +what was toward there. The space betwixt the houses and the break of the +bent was crowded with the fury of the Dusky Men tossing their weapons +aloft, crying to each other and at the kindred, and here and there +loosing a bow-string on them; but whatever was their rage they might not +come a many together past a line within ten fathom of the bent’s end; for +three hundred of the best of bowmen were shooting at them so ceaselessly +that no Dusky man was safe of any bare place of his body, and they fell +over one another in that penfold of slaughter, and for all their madness +did but little. + +Yet was the heart of the War-leader troubled; for he wotted that it might +not last for ever, and there seemed no end to the throng of +murder-carles; and the time would come when the arrowshot would be spent, +and they must needs come to handy strokes, and that with so many. + +Now a voice spake to him as he gazed with knitted brows and careful heart +on that turmoil of battle: + +‘What now hast thou done with the Sun-beam, and where is her brother? Is +the Chief of the Wolf skulking when our work is so heavy? And thou +meseemeth art overlate on the field: the mowing of this meadow is no +sluggard’s work.’ + +He turned and beheld Bow-may, and gazed on her face for a moment, and saw +her eyes how they glittered, and how the pommels of her cheeks were +burning red and her lips dry and grey; but before he answered he looked +all round about to see what was to note; and he touched Bow-may on the +shoulder and pointed to down below where a man of the Felons had just +come out of the court of one of the houses: a man taller than most, very +gaily arrayed, with gilded scales all over him, so that, with his dark +face and blue eyes, he looked like some strange dragon. Bow-may spake +not, but stamped her foot with anger. Yet if her heart were hot, her +hand was steady; for she notched a shaft, and just as the Dusky Chief +raised his axe and brandished it aloft, she loosed, and the shaft flew +and smote the felon in the armpit and the default of the armour, and he +fell to earth. But even as she loosed, Face-of-god cried out in a loud +voice: + +‘O lads of battle! shoot close and all together. Tarry not, tarry not! +for we need a little time ere sword meets sword, and the others of the +kindreds are at work!’ + +But Bow-may turned round to him and said: ‘Wilt thou not answer me? +Where is thy kindness gone?’ + +Even as she was speaking she had notched and loosed another shaft, +speaking as folk do who turn from busy work at loom or bench. + +Then said Face-of-god: ‘Shoot on, sister Bow-may! The Sun-beam is gone +with her brother, and he is with the Men of the Face.’ + +He broke off here, for a man fell beside him hurt in the neck, and +Face-of-god took his bow from his hands and shot a shaft, while one of +the women who had been hurt also tended the newly-wounded man. Then +Face-of-god went on speaking: + +‘She was unwilling to go, but Folk-might and I constrained her; for we +knew that this is the most perilous place of the battle—hah! see those +three felons, Bow-may! they are aiming hither.’ + +And again he loosed and Bow-may also, but a shaft rattled on his helm +withal and another smote a Woodlander beside him, and pierced through the +calf of his leg, as he turned and stooped to take fresh arrows from a +sheaf that lay there; but the carle took it by the notch and the point, +and brake it and drew it out, and then stood up and went on shooting. +And Face-of-god spake again: + +‘Folk-might skulketh not; nor the Men of the Vine, and the Sickle, and +the Face, nor the Shepherd-Folk: soon shall they be making our work easy +to us, if we can hold our own till then. They are on the other roads +that lead into the square. Now suffer me, and shoot on!’ + +Therewith he looked round about him, and he saw on the left hand that all +was quiet; and before him was the confused throng of the Dusky Men +trampling their own dead and wounded, and not able as yet to cross that +death-line of the arrow so near to them. But on his right hand he saw +how they of the kindreds held them firm on the way. Then for a moment of +time he considered and thought, till him-seemed he could see the whole +battle yet to be foughten; and his face flushed, and he said sharply: +‘Bow-may, abide here and shoot, and show the others where to shoot, while +the arrows hold out; but we will go further for a while, and ye shall +follow when we have made the rent great enough.’ + +She turned to him and said: ‘Why art thou not more joyous? thou art like +an host without music or banners.’ + +‘Nay,’ said he, ‘heed not me, but my bidding!’ + +She said hastily: ‘I think I shall die here; since for all we have shot +we minish them nowise. Now kiss me this once amidst the battle, and say +farewell.’ + +He said: ‘Nay, nay; it shall not go thus. Abide a little while, and thou +shalt see all this tangle open, as the sun cleaveth the clouds on the +autumn morning. Yet lo thou! since thou wilt have it so.’ + +And he bent forward and kissed her face, and now the tears ran over it, +and she said smiling somewhat: ‘Now is this more than I looked for, +whatso may betide.’ + +But while she was yet speaking he cried in a great voice: + +‘Ye who have spent your shot, or have nigh spent it, to axe and sword, +and follow me to clear the ground ’twixt the bent and the halls. Let +each help each, but throng not each other. Shoot wisely, ye bowmen, and +keep our backs clear of the foe. On, on! for the Burg and the Face, for +the Burg and the Face!’ + +Therewith he leapt down the steep of the hill, bounding like the hart, +with Dale-warden naked in his hand; and they that followed were two score +and ten; and the arrows of their bowmen rained over their heads on the +Dusky Men, as they smote down the first of the foemen, and the others +shrieked and shrank from them, or turned on them smiting wildly and +desperately. + +But Face-of-god swept round the great sword and plunged into that sea of +turmoil and noise and evil sights and savours, and even therewith he +heard clearly a voice that said: ‘Goldring, I am hurt; take my bow a +while!’ and knew it for Bow-may’s; but it came to his ears like the song +of a bird without meaning; for it was as if his life were changed at +once; and in a minute or two he had cut thrice with the edge and thrust +twice with the point, eager, but clear-eyed and deft; and he saw as in a +picture the foe before him, and the grey roofs of Silver-stead, and +through the gap in them the tops of the blue ridges far aloof. And now +had three fallen before him, and they feared him, and turned on him, and +smote so many together that their strokes crossed each other, and one +warded him from the other; and he laughed aloud and shielded himself, and +drave the point of Dale-warden amidst the tangle of weapons through the +open mouth of a captain of the Felons, and slashed a cheek with a +back-stroke, and swept round the edge to his right hand and smote off a +blue-eyed snub-nosed head; and therewith a pole-axe smote him on the left +side of his helm, so that he tottered; but he swung himself round, and +stood stark and upright, and gave a short hack with the edge, keeping +Dale-warden well in hand, and a gold-clad felon, a champion of them, and +their tallest on the ground, fell aback, his throat gaping more than the +mouth of him. + +Then Face-of-god shouted and waved Dale-warden aloft to the Banner of the +Wolf that floated behind and above him, and he cried out: ‘As I have +promised so have I done!’ And he looked about, and beheld how valiantly +his fellows had been doing; for before him now was a space of earth with +no man standing on his feet thereon, like the swathe of the mowers of +June; and beyond that was the crowd of the Dusky Men wavering like the +tall grass abiding the scythe. + +But a minute, and they fell to casting at Face-of-god and his fellows +spears and knives and shields and whatsoever would fly; and a spear smote +him on the breast, but entered not; and a bossed shield fell over his +face withal, and a plummet of sling-lead smote his helm, and he fell to +earth; but leapt up again straightway, and heard as he arose a great +shout close to him, and a shrill cry, and lo! at his left side Bow-may, +her sword in her hand, and the hand red with blood from a shaft-graze on +her wrist, and a white cloth stained with blood about her neck; and on +his right side Wood-wise bearing the banner and crying the Wolf-whoop; +for the whole company was come down from the slope and stood around him. + +Then for a little while was there such a stilling of the tumult about him +there, that he heard great and glad cries from the Road of the South of +‘The Burg and the Steer! The Dale and the Bridge! The Dale and the +Bull!’ And thereafter a terrible great shrieking cry, and a huge voice +that cried: ‘Death, death, death to the Dusky Men!’ And thereafter again +fierce cries and great tumult of the battle. + +Then Face-of-god shook Dale-warden in the air, and strode forward +fiercely, but not speedily, and the whole company went foot for foot +along with him; and as he went, would he or would he not, song came into +his mouth, a song of the meadows of the Dale, even such as this: + + The wheat is done blooming and rust’s on the sickle, + And green are the meadows grown after the scythe. + Come, hands for the dance! For the toil hath been mickle, + And ’twixt haysel and harvest ’tis time to be blithe. + + And what shall the tale be now dancing is over, + And kind on the meadow sits maiden by man, + And the old man bethinks him of days of the lover, + And the warrior remembers the field that he wan? + + Shall we tell of the dear days wherein we are dwelling, + The best days of our Mother, the cherishing Dale, + When all round about us the summer is telling, + To ears that may hearken, the heart of the tale? + + Shall we sing of these hands and these lips that caress us, + And the limbs that sun-dappled lie light here beside, + When still in the morning they rise but to bless us, + And oft in the midnight our footsteps abide? + + O nay, but to tell of the fathers were better, + And of how we were fashioned from out of the earth; + Of how the once lowly spurned strong at the fetter; + Of the days of the deeds and beginning of mirth. + + And then when the feast-tide is done in the morning, + Shall we whet the grey sickle that bideth the wheat, + Till wan grow the edges, and gleam forth a warning + Of the field and the fallow where edges shall meet. + + And when cometh the harvest, and hook upon shoulder + We enter the red wheat from out of the road, + We shall sing, as we wend, of the bold and the bolder, + And the Burg of their building, the beauteous abode. + + As smiteth the sickle amid the sun’s burning + We shall sing how the sun saw the token unfurled, + When forth fared the Folk, with no thought of returning, + In the days when the Banner went wide in the world. + +Many saw that he was singing, but heard not the words of his mouth, for +great was the noise and clamour. But he heard Bow-may, how she laughed +by his side, and cried out: + +‘Gold-mane, dear-heart, now art thou merry indeed; and glad am I, though +they told me that I am hurt.—Ah! now beware, beware!’ + +For indeed the Dusky Men, seeing the wall of steel rolling down on them, +and cooped up by the houses, so that they scarce knew how to flee, turned +in the face of death, the foremost of them, and rushed furiously on the +array of the Woodlanders, and all those behind pressed on them like the +big wave of the ebbing sea when the gust of the wind driveth it landward. + +The Woodlanders met them, shouting out: ‘The Greenwood and the Wolf, the +Greenwood and the Wolf!’ But not a few of them fell there, though they +gave not back a foot; for so fierce now were the Dusky Men, that hewing +and thrusting at them availed nought, unless they were slain outright or +stunned; and even if they fell they rolled themselves up against their +tall foe-men, heeding not death or wounds if they might but slay or +wound. There then fell War-grove and ten others of the Woodlanders, and +four men of the Wolf, but none before he had slain his foeman; and as +each man fell or was hurt grievously, another took his place. + +Now a felon leapt up and caught Gold-ring by the neck and drew him down, +while another strove to smite his head off; but the stout carle drave a +wood-knife into the side of the first felon, and drew it out speedily and +smote the other, the smiter, in the face with the same knife, and +therewith they all three rolled together on the earth amongst the feet of +men. Even so did another felon by Bow-may, and dragged her down to the +ground, and smote her with a long knife as she tumbled down; and this was +a feat of theirs, for they were long-armed like apes. + +But as to this felon, Dale-warden’s edge split his skull, and Face-of-god +gathered his might together and bestrode Bow-may, till he had hewed a +space round about him with great two-handed strokes; and yet the blade +brake not. Then he caught up Bow-may from the earth, and the felon’s +knife had not pierced her hauberk, but she was astonied, and might not +stand upon her feet; and Face-of-god turned aside a little with her, and +half bore her, half thrust her through the throng to the rearward of his +folk, and left her there with two carlines of the Wolf who followed the +host for leechcraft’s sake, and then turned back shouting: ‘For the Face, +for the Face!’ and there followed him back to the battle, a band of those +who were fresh as yet, and their blades unbloodied, the young men of the +Woodlands. + +The wearier fighters made way for them as they came on shouting, and +Face-of-god was ahead of them all, and leapt at the foemen as a man +unwearied and striking his first stroke, so wondrous hale he was; and +they drave a wedge amidst of the Dusky Men, and then turned about and +stood back to back hewing at all that drifted on them. But as +Face-of-god cleared a space about him, lo! almost within reach of his +sword-point up rose a grim shape from the earth, tall, grey-haired, and +bloody-faced, who uttered the Wolf-whoop from amidst the terror of his +visage, and turned and swung round his head an axe of the Dusky Men, and +fell to smiting them with their own weapon. The Dusky Men shrieked in +answer to his whoop, and all shrunk from him and Face-of-god; but a cry +of joy went up from the kindred, for they knew Gold-ring, whom they +deemed had been slain. So they all pressed on together, smiting down the +foe before them, and the Dusky Men, some turned their backs and drave +those behind them, till they too turned and were strained through the +passages and courts of the houses, and some were overthrown and trodden +down as they strove to hold face to the Woodlanders, and some were hewn +down where they stood; but the whole throng of those that were on their +feet drifted toward the Market-place, the Woodlanders following them ever +with point and edge, till betwixt the bent and the houses no foeman stood +up against them. + +Then they stood together, and raised the whoop of victory, and blew their +horns long and loud in token of their joy, and the Woodland men lifted up +their voices and sang: + + Now far, far aloof + Standeth lintel and roof, + The dwelling of days + Of the Woodland ways: + Now nought wendeth there + Save the wolf and the bear, + And the fox of the waste + Faring soft without haste. + No carle the axe whetteth on oak-laden hill; + No shaft the hart letteth to wend at his will; + None heedeth the thunder-clap over the glade, + And the wind-storm thereunder makes no man afraid. + Is it thus then that endeth man’s days on Mid-earth, + For no man there wendeth in sorrow or mirth? + + Nay, look down on the road + From the ancient abode! + Betwixt acre and field + Shineth helm, shineth shield. + And high over the heath + Fares the bane in his sheath; + For the wise men and bold + Go their ways o’er the wold. + Now the Warrior hath given them heart and fair day, + Unbidden, undriven, they fare to the fray. + By the rock and the river the banners they bear, + And their battle-staves quiver ’neath halbert and spear; + On the hill’s brow they gather, and hang o’er the Dale + As the clouds of the Father hang, laden with bale. + + Down shineth the sun + On the war-deed half done; + All the fore-doomed to die, + In the pale dust they lie. + There they leapt, there they fell, + And their tale shall we tell; + But we, e’en in the gate + Of the war-garth we wait, + Till the drift of war-weather shall whistle us on, + And we tread all together the way to be won, + To the dear land, the dwelling for whose sake we came + To do deeds for the telling of song-becrowned fame. + Settle helm on the head then! Heave sword for the Dale! + Nor be mocked of the dead men for deedless and pale. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. MEN MEET IN THE MARKET OF SILVER-STEAD. + + +SO sang they; but Face-of-god went with Red-wolf, who was hurt sorely, +but not deadly, and led him back toward the place just under the break of +the bent; and there he found Bow-may in the hands of the women who were +tending her hurts. She smiled on him from a pale face as he drew nigh, +and he looked kindly at her, but he might not abide there, for haste was +in his feet. He left Red-wolf to the tending of the women, and clomb the +bent hastily, and when he deemed he was high enough, he looked about him; +and somewhat more than half an hour had worn since Bow-may had sped the +first shaft against the Dusky Men. + +He looked down into the Market-stead, and deemed he could see that nigh +the Mote-house the Dusky Men were gathering into some better order; but +they were no longer drifting toward the southern bents, but were standing +round about the altar as men abiding somewhat; and he deemed that they +had gotten more bowshot than before, and that most of them bare bows. +Though so many had been slain in the battles of the southern bents, yet +was the Market-stead full of them, so to say, for others had come thereto +in place of those that had fallen. + +But now as he looked arose mighty clamour amongst them; and a little west +of the Altar was a stir and a hurrying onward and around as in the eddies +of a swift stream. Face-of-god wotted not what was betiding there, but +he deemed that they were now ware of the onfall of Folk-might and +Hall-face and the men of Burgdale, for their faces were all turned to +where that was to be looked for. + +So he turned and looked on the road to the east of him, where had been +the battle of the Steer, but now it was all gone down toward the +Market-place, and he could but hear the clamour of it; but nought he saw +thereof, because of the houses that hid it. + +Then he cast his eyes on the road that entered the Market-stead from the +north, and he saw thereon many men gathered; and he wotted not what they +were; for though there were weapons amongst them, yet were they not all +weaponed, as far as he could see. + +Now as he looked this way and that, and deemed that he must tarry no +longer, but must enter into the courts of the houses before him and make +his way into the Market-stead, lo! a change in the throng of Dusky +Warriors nigh the Mote-house, and the ordered bands about the Altar fell +to drifting toward the western way with one accord, with great noise and +hurry and fierce cries of wrath. Then made Face-of-god no delay, but ran +down the bent at once, and at the break of it came upon Bow-may standing +upright and sword in hand; and as he passed, she joined herself to him, +and said: ‘What new tidings now, Gold-mane?’ + +‘Tidings of battle!’ he cried; ‘tidings of victory! Folk-might hath +fallen on, and the Dusky Men run hastily to meet him. Hark, hark!’ + +For as he spoke came a great noise of horns, and Bow-may said: ‘What horn +is that blowing?’ + +He stayed not, but shouted aloud: ‘For the Face, for the Face! Now will +we fall upon their backs!’ + +Therewith was he come to his company, and he cried out to them: ‘Heard ye +the horn, heard ye the horn? Now follow me into the Market-place; much +is yet to do!’ + +Even therewith came the sound of other horns, and all men were silent a +moment, and then shouted all together, for the Wood-landers knew it for +the horn of the Shepherds coming on by the eastward way. + +But Face-of-god waved his sword aloft and set on at once, and they +followed and gat them through the courts of the houses and their passages +into the Market-place. There they found more room than they looked to +find; for the foemen had drawn away on the left hand toward the battle of +Folk-might, and on the right hand toward the battle of the Steer; and +great was the noise and cry that came thence. + +Now stood Face-of-god under the two banners of the Wolf in the +Market-place of Silver-stead, and scarce had he time to be high-hearted, +for needs must he ponder in his mind what thing were best to do. For on +the left hand he deemed the foe was the strongest and best ordered; but +there also were the kindreds the doughtiest, and it was little like that +the felons should overcome the spear-casters of the Face and the +glaive-bearers of the Sickle, and the bowmen of the Vine: there also were +the wisest leaders, as the stark elder Stone-face, and the tall +Hall-face, and his father of the unshaken heart, and above all +Folk-might, fierce in his wrath, but his anger burning steady and clear, +like the oaken butt on the hearth of the hall. + +Then as his mind pictured him amongst the foe, it made therewith another +picture of the slender warrior Sun-beam caught in the tangle of battle, +and longing for him and calling for him amidst the hard hand-play. And +thereat his face flushed, and all his body waxed hot, and he was on the +very point of leading the onset against the foe on the left. But +therewith he bethought him of the bold men of the Steer and the Bridge +and the Bull weary with much fighting; and he remembered also that the +Bride was amongst them and fighting, it might be, amidst the foremost, +and if she were slain how should he ever hold up his head again. He +bethought him also that the Shepherds, who had fallen on by the eastern +road, valiant as they were, were scarce so well armed or so well led as +the others. Therewithal he bethought him (and again it came like a +picture into his mind) of falling on the foemen by whom the southern +battle was beset, and then the twain of them meeting the Shepherds, and +lastly, all those three companies joined together clearing the +Market-place, and meeting the men under Folk-might in the midst thereof. + +Therefore, scant had he been pondering these things in his mind for a +minute ere he cried out: ‘Blow up horns, blow up! forward banners, and +follow me, O valiant men! to the helping of the Steer, the Bridge, and +the Bull; deep have they thrust into the Dusky Throng, and belike are +hard pressed. Hark how the clamour ariseth from their besetters! On +now, on!’ + +Therewith hung a star of sunlight on his sword as he raised it aloft, and +the Wolf-whoop rang out terribly in the Market-place, for now had the +Woodlanders also learned it, and the hearts of the foemen sank as they +heard the might and the mass thereof. Then the battle of the Woodlanders +swept round and fell upon the flank of them who were besetting the +kindreds, as an iron bar smiteth the soft fir-wood; and they of the +kindreds heard their cry, but faintly and confusedly, so great was the +turmoil of battle about them. + +Now once more was Bow-may by the side of Face-of-god; and if she had not +the might of the mightiest, yet had she the deftness of the deftest. And +now was she calm and cool, shielding herself with a copper-bossed target, +and driving home the point of her sharp sword; white was her face, and +her eyes glittered amidst it, and she seemed to men like to those on +whose heads the Warrior hath laid the Holy Bread. + +As to Wood-wise, he had given the Banner of the red-jawed Wolf to +Stone-wolf, a huge and dreadful warrior some forty winters old, who had +fought in the Great Overthrow, and now hewed down the Dusky Men, wielding +a heavy short-sword left-handed. But Wood-wise himself fought with a +great sword, giving great strokes to the right hand and the left, and was +no more hasty than is the hewer in the winter wood. + +Face-of-god fought wisely and coldly now, and looked more to warding his +friends than destroying his foes, and both to Bow-may and Wood-wise his +sword was a shield; for oft he took the life from the edge of the +upraised axe, and stayed the point of the foeman in mid-air. + +Even so wisely fought the whole band of the Woodlanders and the Wolves, +who got within smiting space of the foe; for they had no will to cast +away their lives when assured victory was so nigh to them. Sooth to say, +the hand-play was not so hard to them as it had been betwixt the bent and +the houses; for the Dusky Men were intent on dealing with the men of the +kindreds from the southern road, who stood war-wearied before them; and +they were hewing and casting at them, and baying and yelling like dogs; +and though they turned about to meet the storm of the Woodlanders, yet +their hearts failed them withal, and they strove to edge away from +betwixt those two fearful scythes of war, fighting as men fleeing, not as +men in onset. But still the Woodlanders and the Wolves came on, hewing +and thrusting, smiting down the foemen in heaps, till the Dusky Throng +grew thin, and the staves of the Dalesmen and their bright banners in the +morning sun were clear to see, and at last their very faces, kindly and +familiar, worn and strained with the stress of battle, or laughing +wildly, or pale with the fury of the fight. Then rose up to the heavens +the blended shout of the Woodlanders and the Dalesmen, and now there was +nought of foemen betwixt them save the dead and the wounded. + +Then Face-of-god thrust his sword into its sheath all bloody as it was, +and strode over the dead men to where Hall-ward stood under the banner of +the Steer, and cast his arms about the old carle, and kissed him for joy +of the victory. But Hall-ward thrust him aback and looked him in the +face, and his cheeks were pale and his lips clenched, and his eyes +haggard and staring, and he said in a harsh voice: + +‘O young man, she is dead! I saw her fall. The Bride is dead, and thou +hast lost thy troth-plight maiden. O death, death to the Dusky Men!’ + +Then grew Face-of-god as pale as a linen sleeve, and all the new-comers +groaned and cried out. But a bystander said: ‘Nay, nay, it is nought so +bad as that; she is hurt, and sorely; but she liveth yet.’ + +Face-of-god heard him not. He forgot Dale-warden lying in his sheath, +and he saw that the last speaker had a great wood-axe broad and heavy in +his hand, so he cried: ‘Man, man, thine axe!’ and snatched it from him, +and turned about to the foe again, and thrust through the ranks, +suffering none to stay him till all his friends were behind and all his +foes before him. And as he burst forth from the ranks waving his axe +aloft, bare-headed now, his yellow hair flying abroad, his mouth crying +out, ‘Death, death, death to the Dusky Men!’ fear of him smote their +hearts, and they howled and fled before him as they might; for they said +that the Dalesmen had prayed their Gods into the battle. But not so fast +could they flee but he was presently amidst them, smiting down all about +him, and they so terror-stricken that scarce might they raise a hand +against him. All that blended host followed him mad with wrath and +victory, and as they pressed on, they heard behind them the horns and +war-cries of the Shepherds falling on from the east. Nought they heeded +that now, but drave on a fearful storm of war, and terrible was the +slaughter of the Felons. + +It was but a few minutes ere they had driven them up against that great +stack of faggots that had been dight for the burnt-offering of men, and +many of the felons had mounted up on to it, and now in their anguish of +fear were shooting arrows and casting spears on all about them, heeding +little if they were friend or foe. Now were the men of the kindreds at +point to climb this twiggen burg; but by this time the fury of +Face-of-god had run clear, and he knew where he was and what he was +doing; so he stayed his folk, and cried out to them: ‘Forbear, climb not! +let the torch help the sword!’ And therewith he looked about and saw the +fire-pot which had been set down there for the kindling of the bale-fire, +and the coals were yet red in it; so he snatched up a dry brand and +lighted it thereat, and so did divers others, and they thrust them among +the faggots, and the fire caught at once, and the tongues of flame began +to leap from faggot to faggot till all was in a light low; for the wood +had been laid for that very end, and smeared with grease and oil so that +the burning to the god might be speedy. + +But the fierceness of the kindreds heeded not the fire, nor overmuch the +men who leapt down from the stack before it, but they left all behind +them, faring straight toward the western outgate from the Market-stead; +and Face-of-god still led them on; though by now he was wholly come to +his right mind again, albeit the burden of sorrow yet lay heavy on his +heart. He had broken his axe, and had once more drawn Dale-warden from +his sheath, and many felt his point and edge. + +But now, as they chased, came a rush of men upon them again, as though a +new onset were at hand. That saw Face-of-god and Hall-ward and War-well, +and other wise leaders of men, and they bade their folk forbear the +chase, and lock their ranks to meet the onfall of this new wave of +foemen. And they did so, and stood fast as a wall; but lo! the onrush +that drave up against them was but a fleeing shrieking throng, and no +longer an array of warriors, for many had cast away their weapons, and +were rushing they knew not whither; for they were being thrust on the +bitter edges of Face-of-god’s companies by the terror of the fleers from +the onset of the men of the Face, the Sickle, and the Vine, whom +Hall-face and Stone-face were leading, along with Folk-might. Then once +again the men of Face-of-god gave forth the whoop of victory, and pressed +forward again, hewing their way through the throng of fleers, but turning +not to chase to the right or the left; while at their backs came on the +Shepherd-folk, who had swept down all that withstood them; for now indeed +was the Market-stead getting thinner of living men. + +So led the War-leader his ordered ranks, till at last over the tangled +crowd of runaways he saw the banners of the Burg and the Face flashing +against the sun, and heard the roar of the kindreds as they drave the +chase towards them. Then he lifted up his sword, and stood still, and +all the host behind him stayed and cast a huge shout up to the heavens, +and there they abode the coming of the other Dalesmen. + +But the War-leader sent a message to Hound-under-Greenbury, bidding him +lead the Shepherds to the chase of the Dusky Men, who were now all +fleeing toward the northern outgate of the Market. Howbeit he called to +mind the throng he had seen on the northern road before they were come +into the Market-stead, and deemed that way also death awaited the foemen, +even if the men of the kindreds forbore them. + +But presently the space betwixt the Woodlanders and the men of the Face +was clear of all but the dead, so that friend saw the face of friend; and +it could be seen that the warriors of the Face were ruddy and smiling for +joy, because the battle had been easy to them, and but few of them had +fallen; for the Dusky Men who had left the Market-stead to fall on them, +had had room for fleeing behind them, and had speedily turned their backs +before the spear-casting of the men of the Face and the onrush of the +swordsmen. + +There then stood these victorious men facing one another, and the +banner-bearers on either side came through the throng, and brought the +banners together between the two hosts; and the Wolf kissed the Face, and +the Sickle and the Vine met the Steer and the Bridge and the Bull: but +the Shepherds were yet chasing the fleers. + +There in the forefront stood Hall-face the tall, with the joy of battle +in his eyes. And Stone-face, the wise carle in war, stood solemn and +stark beside him; and there was the goodly body and the fair and kindly +visage of the Alderman smiling on the faces of his friends. But as for +Folk-might, his face was yet white and aweful with anger, and he looked +restlessly up and down the front of the kindreds, though he spake no +word. + +Then Face-of-god could no longer forbear, but he thrust Dale-warden into +his sheath, and ran forward and cast his arms about his father’s neck and +kissed him; and the blood of himself and of the foemen was on him, for he +had been hurt in divers places, but not sorely, because of the good +hammer-work of the Alderman. + +Then he kissed his brother and Stone-face, and he took Folk-might by the +hand, and was on the point of speaking some word to him, when the ranks +of the Face opened, and lo! the Sun-beam in her bright war-gear, and the +sword girt to her side, and she unhurt and unsullied. + +Then was it to him as when he met her first in Shadowy Vale, and he +thought of little else than her; but she stepped lightly up to him, and +unashamed before the whole host she kissed him on the mouth, and he cast +his mailed arms about her, and joy made him forget many things and what +was next to do, though even at that moment came afresh a great clamour of +shrieks and cries from the northern outgate of the Market-stead: and the +burning pile behind them cast a great wavering flame into the air, +contending with the bright sun of that fair day, now come hard on +noontide. But ere he drew away his face from the Sun-beam’s, came memory +to him, and a sharp pang shot through his heart, as he heard Folk-might +say: ‘Where then is the Shield-may of Burgstead? where is the Bride?’ + +And Face-of-god said under his breath: ‘She is dead, she is dead!’ And +then he stared out straight before him and waited till someone else +should say it aloud. But Bow-may stepped forward and said: ‘Chief of the +Wolf, be of good cheer; our kinswoman is hurt, but not deadly.’ + +The Alderman’s face changed, and he said: ‘Hast thou seen her, Bow-may?’ + +‘Nay,’ she said. ‘How should I leave the battle? but others have told me +who have seen her.’ + +Folk-might stared into the ranks of men before him, but said nothing. +Said the Alderman: ‘Is she well tended?’ + +‘Yea, surely,’ said Bow-may, ‘since she is amongst friends, and there are +no foemen behind us.’ + +Then came a voice from Folk-might which said: ‘Now were it best to send +good men and deft in arms, and who know Silver-dale, from house to house, +to search for foemen who may be lurking there.’ + +The Alderman looked kindly and sadly on him and said: + +‘Kinsman Stone-face, and Hall-face my son, the brunt of the battle is now +over, and I am but a simple man amongst you; therefore, if ye will give +me leave, I will go see this poor kinswoman of ours, and comfort her.’ + +They bade him go: so he sheathed his sword, and went through the press +with two men of the Steer toward the southern road; for the Bride had +been brought into a house nigh the corner of the Market-place. + +But Face-of-god looked after his father as he went, and remembrance of +past days came upon him, and such a storm of grief swept over him, as he +thought of the Bride lying pale and bleeding and brought anigh to her +death, that he put his hands to his face and wept as a child that will +not be comforted; nor had he any shame of all those bystanders, who in +sooth were men good and kindly, and had no shame of his grief or +marvelled at it, for indeed their own hearts were sore for their lovely +kinswoman, and many of them also wept with Face-of-god. But the Sun-beam +stood by and looked on her betrothed, and she thought many things of the +Bride, and was sorry, albeit no tears came into her eyes; then she looked +askance at Folk-might and trembled; but he said coldly, and in a loud +voice: + +‘Needs must we search the houses for the lurking felons, or many a man +will yet be murdered. Let Wood-wicked lead a band of men at once from +house to house.’ + +Then said a man of the Wolf hight Hardgrip: ‘Wood-wicked was slain +betwixt the bent and the houses.’ + +Said Folk-might: ‘Let it be Wood-wise then.’ + +But Bow-may said: ‘Wood-wise is even now hurt in the leg by a wounded +felon, and may not go afoot.’ + +Then said Folk-might: ‘Is Crow the Shaft-speeder anigh?’ + +‘Yea, here am I,’ quoth a tall man of fifty winters, coming from out the +ranks where stood the Wolves. + +Said Folk-might: ‘Kinsman Crow, do thou take two score and ten of doughty +men who are not too hot-headed, and search every house about the +Market-place; but if ye come on any house that makes a stout defence, +send ye word thereof to the Mote-house, where we will presently be, and +we shall send you help. Slay every felon that ye fall in with; but if ye +find in the houses any of the poor folk crouching and afraid, comfort +their hearts all ye may, and tell them that now is life come to them.’ + +So Crow fell to getting his band together, and presently departed with +them on his errand. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. THE KINDREDS WIN THE MOTE-HOUSE. + + +THE din and tumult still came from the north side of the Market-place, so +that all the air was full of noise; and Face-of-god deemed that the +thralls had gotten weapons into their hands and were slaying their +masters. + +Now he lifted up his face, and put his hand on Folk-might’s shoulder, and +said in a loud voice: + +‘Kinsmen, it were well if our brother were to bid the banners into the +Mote-house of the Wolf, and let all the Host set itself in array before +the said house, and abide till the chasers of the foe come to us thither; +for I perceive that they are now become many, and are more than those of +our kindred.’ + +Then Folk-might looked at him with kind eyes, and said: + +‘Thou sayest well, brother; even so let it be!’ + +And he lifted up his sword, and Face-of-god cried out in a loud voice: +‘Forward, banners! blow up horns! fare we forth with victory!’ + +So the Host drew its ranks together in good order, and they all set +forward, and old Stone-face took the Sun-beam by the hand and led on +behind Folk-might and the War-leader. But when they came to the Hall, +then saw they how the steps that led up to the door were high and double, +going up from each side without any railing or fool-guard; and crowding +the stairs and the platform thereof was a band of the Dusky Men, as many +as could stand thereon, who shot arrows at the host of the kindreds, +howling like dogs, and chattering like apes; and arrows and spears came +from the windows of the Hall; yea, and on the very roof a score of these +felons were riding the ridge and mocking like the trolls of old days. + +Now when they saw this they stayed a while, and men shielded them against +the shafts; but the leaders drew together in front of the Host, and +Folk-might fell to speech; and his face was very pale and stern; for now +he had had time to think of the case of the Bride, and fierce wrath, and +grief unholpen filled his soul. So he said: + +‘Brothers, this is my business to deal with; for I see before me the +stair that leadeth to the Mote-house of my people, and now would I sit +there whereas my fathers sat, when peace was on the Dale, as once more it +shall be to-morrow. Therefore up this stair will I go, and none shall +hinder me; and let no man of the host follow me till I have entered into +the Hall, unless perchance I fall dead by the way; but stand ye still and +look on.’ + +‘Nay,’ said Face-of-god, ‘this is partly the business of the War-leader. +There are two stairs. Be content to take the southern one, and I will +take the northern. We shall meet on the plain stone at the top.’ + +But Hall-face said: ‘War-leader, may I speak?’ + +‘Speak, brother,’ said Face-of-god. + +Said Hall-face: ‘I have done but little to-day, War-leader. I would +stand by thee on the northern stair; so shall Folk-might be content, if +he doeth two men’s work who are not little-hearted.’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘The doom of the War-leader is that Folk-might shall +fall on by the southern stair to slake his grief and increase his glory, +and Face-of-god and Hall-face by the northern. Haste to the work, O +brothers!’ + +And he and Hall-face went to their places, while all looked on. But the +Sun-beam, with her hand still in Stone-face’s, she turned white to the +lips, and stared with wild eyes before her, not knowing where she was; +for she had deemed that the battle was over, and Face-of-god saved from +it. + +But Folk-might tossed up his head and laughed, and cried out, ‘At last, +at last!’ And his sword was in his hand, the Sleep-thorn to wit, a blade +of ancient fame; so now he let it fall and hang to his wrist by the +leash, while he clapped his hands together and uttered the Wolf-whoop +mightily, and all the men of the Wolf that were in the host, and the +Woodlanders withal, uttered it with him. Then he put his shield over his +head and stood before the first of the steps, and the Dusky Men laughed +to see one man come against them, though there was death in their hearts. +But he laughed back at them in triumph, and set his foot on the step, and +let Sleep-thorn’s point go into the throat of a Dusky lord, and thrust +amongst them, hewing right and left, and tumbling men over the edge of +the stair, which was to them as the narrow path along the cliff-side that +hangeth over the unfathomed sea. They hewed and thrust at him in turn; +but so close were they packed that their weapons crossed about him, and +one shielded him from the other, and they swayed staggering on that +fearful verge, while the Sleep-thorn crept here and there amongst them, +lulling their hot fury. For, as desperate as they were, and fighting for +death and not for life, they had a horror of him and of the sea of hatred +below them, and feared where to set their feet, and he feared nought at +all, but from feet to sword-point was but an engine of slaughter, while +the heart within him throbbed with fury long held back as he thought upon +the Bride and her wounding, and all the wrongs of his people since their +Great Undoing. + +So he smote and thrust, till him-seemed the throng of foes thinned before +him: with his sword-pommel he smote a lord of the Dusky Ones in the face, +so that he fell over the edge amongst the spears of the kindred; then he +thrust the point of Sleep-thorn towards the Hall-door through the breast +of another, and then it seemed to him that he had but one before him; so +he hove up the edges to cleave him down, but ere the stroke fell, close +to his ears exceeding loud rang out the cry, ‘For the Burg and the Face! +for the Face, for the Face!’ and he drew aback a little, and his eyes +cleared, and lo! it was Hall-face the tall, his long sword all reddened +with battle; and beside him stood Face-of-god, silent and panting, his +face pale with the fierce anger of the fight, and the weariness which was +now at last gaining upon him. There stood those three with no other +living man upon the plain of the stairs. + +Then Face-of-god turned shouting to the Folk, and cried: + +‘Forth now with the banners! For now is the Wolf come home. On into the +Hall, O Kindred of the Gods!’ + +Then poured the Folk up over the stairs and into the Hall of the Wolf, +the banners flapping over their heads; and first went the War-leader and +Folk-might and Hall-face, and then the three delivered thralls, +Wolf-stone, God-swain, and Spear-fist, and Dallach with them, though both +he and Wolf-stone had been hurt in the battle; and then came blended +together the Men of the Face along with them of the Wolf who had entered +the Market-stead with them, and with these were Stone-face and Wood-wont +and Bow-may, leading the Sun-beam betwixt them; and now was she come to +herself again, though her face was yet pale, and her eyes gleamed as she +stepped across the threshold of the Hall. + +But when a many were gotten in, and the first-comers had had time to +handle their weapons and look about them, a cry of the utmost wrath broke +from Folk-might and those others who remembered the Hall from of old. +For wretched and befouled was that well-builded house: the hangings rent +away; the goodly painted walls daubed and smeared with wicked tokens of +the Alien murderers: the floor, once bright with polished stones of the +mountain, and strewn with sweet-smelling flowers, was now as foul as the +den of the man-devouring troll of the heaths. From the fair-carven roof +of oak and chestnut-beams hung ugly knots of rags and shapeless images of +the sorcery of the Dusky Men. And furthermore, and above all, from the +last tie-beam of the roof over the daïs dangled four shapes of +men-at-arms, whom the older men of the Wolf knew at once for the embalmed +bodies of their four great chieftains, who had been slain on the day of +the Great Undoing; and they cried out with horror and rage as they saw +them hanging there in their weapons as they had lived. + +There was the Hostage of the Earth, his shield painted with the green +world circled with the worm of the sea. There was the older Folk-might, +the uncle of the living man, bearing a shield with an oak and a lion done +thereon. There was Wealth-eker, on whose shield was done a golden sheaf +of wheat. There was he who bore a name great from of old, Folk-wolf to +wit, bearing on his shield the axe of the hewer. There they hung, dusty, +befouled, with sightless eyes and grinning mouths, in the dimmed sunlight +of the Hall, before the eyes of that victorious Host, stricken silent at +the sight of them. + +Underneath them on the daïs stood the last remnant of the battle of the +Dusky Men; and they, as men mad with coming death, shook their weapons, +and with shrieking laughter mocked at the overcomers, and pointed to the +long-dead chiefs, and called on them in the tongue of the kindreds to +come down and lead their dear kinsmen to the high-seat; and then they +cried out to the living warriors of the Wolf, and bade them better their +deed of slaying, and set to work to make alive again, and cause their +kinsmen to live merry on the earth. + +With that last mock they handled their weapons and rushed howling on the +warriors to meet their death; nor was it long denied them; for the sword +of the Wolf, the axe of the Woodland, and the spear of the Dale soon made +an end of the dreadful lives of these destroyers of the Folks. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. MEN SING IN THE MOTE-HOUSE. + + +THEN strode the Warriors of the Wolf over the bodies of the slain on to +the daïs of their own Hall; and Folk-might led the Sun-beam by the hand, +and now was his sword in its sheath, and his face was grown calm, though +it was stern and sad. But even as he trod the daïs comes a slim swain of +the Wolves twisting himself through the throng, and so maketh way to +Folk-might, and saith to him: + +‘Chieftain, the Alderman of Burgdale sendeth me hither to say a word to +thee; even this, which I am to tell to thee and the War-leader both: It +is most true that our kinswoman the Bride will not die, but live. So +help me, the Warrior and the Face! This is the word of the Alderman.’ + +When Folk-might heard this, his face changed and he hung his head; and +Face-of-god, who was standing close by, beheld him and deemed that tears +were falling from his eyes on to the hall-floor. As for him, he grew +exceeding glad, and he turned to the Sun-beam and met her eyes, and saw +that she could scarce refrain her longing for him; and he was abashed for +the sweetness of his love. But she drew close up to him, and spake to +him softly and said: + +‘This is the day that maketh amends; and yet I long for another day. +When I saw thee coming to me that first day in Shadowy Vale, I thought +thee so goodly a warrior that my heart was in my mouth. But now how +goodly thou art! For the battle is over, and we shall live.’ + +‘Yea,’ said Face-of-god, ‘and none shall begrudge us our love. Behold +thy brother, the hard-heart, the warrior; he weepeth because he hath +heard that the Bride shall live. Be sure then that she shall not gainsay +him. O fair shall the world be to-morrow!’ + +But she said: ‘O Gold-mane, I have no words. Is there no minstrelsy +amongst us?’ + +Now by this time were many of the men of the Wolf and the Woodlanders +gathered on the daïs of the Hall; and the Dalesmen noting this, and +wotting that these men were now in their own Mote-house, withdrew them as +they might for the press toward the nether end thereof. That the +Sun-beam noted, and that all those about her save the War-leader were of +the kindreds of the Wolf and the Woodland, and, still speaking softly, +she said to Face-of-god: + +‘Gold-mane, meseemeth I am now in my wrong place; for now the Wolf +raiseth up his head, but I am departing from him. Surely I should now be +standing amongst my people of the Face, whereto I am going ere long.’ + +He said: ‘Beloved, I am now become thy kindred and thine home, and it is +meet for thee to stand beside me.’ + +She cast her eyes adown and answered not; and she fell a-pondering of how +sorely she had desired that fair dale, and now she would leave it, and be +content and more than content. + +But now the kindreds had sundered, they upon the daïs ranked themselves +together there in the House which their fathers had builded; and when +they saw themselves so meetly ordered, their hearts being full with the +sweetness of hope accomplished and the joy of deliverance from death, +song arose amongst them, and they fell to singing together; and this is +somewhat of their singing: + + Now raise we the lay + Of the long-coming day! + Bright, white was the sun + When we saw it begun: + O’er its noon now we live; + It hath ceased not to give; + It shall give, and give more + From the wealth of its store. + O fair was the yesterday! Kindly and good + Was the wasteland our guester, and kind was the wood; + Though below us for reaping lay under our hand + The harvest of weeping, the grief of the land; + Dumb cowered the sorrow, nought daring to cry + On the help of to-morrow, the deed drawing nigh. + + All increase throve + In the Dale of our love; + There the ox and the steed + Fed down the mead; + The grapes hung high + ’Twixt earth and sky, + And the apples fell + Round the orchard well. + Yet drear was the land there, and all was for nought; + None put forth a hand there for what the year wrought, + And raised it o’erflowing with gifts of the earth. + For man’s grief was growing beside of the mirth + Of the springs and the summers that wasted their wealth; + And the birds, the new-comers, made merry by stealth. + + Yet here of old + Abode the bold; + Nor had they wailed + Though the wheat had failed, + And the vine no more + Gave forth her store. + Yea, they found the waste good + For the fearless of mood. + Then to these, that were dwelling aloof from the Dale, + Fared the wild-wind a-telling the worst of the tale; + As men bathed in the morning they saw in the pool + The image of scorning, the throne of the fool. + The picture was gleaming in helm and in sword, + And shone forth its seeming from cups of the board. + + Forth then they came + With the battle-flame; + From the Wood and the Waste + And the Dale did they haste: + They saw the storm rise, + And with untroubled eyes + The war-storm they met; + And the rain ruddy-wet. + O’er the Dale then was litten the Candle of Day, + Night-sorrow was smitten, and gloom fled away. + How the grief-shackles sunder! How many to morn + Shall awaken and wonder how gladness was born! + O wont unto sorrow, how sweet unto you + Shall be pondering to-morrow what deed is to do! + + Fell many a man + ’Neath the edges wan, + In the heat of the play + That fashioned the day. + Praise all ye then + The death of men, + And the gift of the aid + Of the unafraid! + O strong are the living men mighty to save, + And good is their giving, and gifts that we have! + But the dead, they that gave us once, never again; + Long and long shall they save us sore trouble and pain. + O Banner above us, O God of the strong, + Love them as ye love us that bore down our wrong! + +So they sang in the Hall; and there was many a man wept, as the song +ended, for those that should never see the good days of the Dale, and all +the joy that was to be; and men swore, by all that they loved, that they +would never forget those that had fallen in the Winning of Silver-dale; +and that when each year the Cups of Memory went round, they should be no +mere names to them, but the very men whom they had known and loved. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. DALLACH FARETH TO ROSE-DALE: CROW TELLETH OF HIS ERRAND: +THE KINDREDS EAT THEIR MEAT IN SILVER-DALE. + + +NOW Dallach, who had gone away for a while, came back again into the +Hall; and at his back were a half score of men who bore ladders with +them: they were stout men, clad in scanty and ragged raiment, but girt +with swords and bearing axes, those of them who were not handling the +ladders. Men looked on them curiously, because they saw them to be of +the roughest of the thralls. They were sullen and fierce-eyed to behold, +and their hands and bare arms were flecked with blood; and it was easy to +see that they had been chasing the fleers, and making them pay for their +many torments of past days. + +But when Face-of-god beheld this he cried out: ‘Ho, Dallach! is it so +that thou hast bethought thee to bring in hither men to fall to the +cleansing of the Hall, and to do away the defiling of the Dusky Men?’ + +‘Even so, War-leader,’ said Dallach; ‘also ye shall know that all battle +is over in Silver-stead; for the thralls fell in numbers not to be +endured on the Dusky Men who had turned their backs to us, and hindered +them from fleeing north. But though they have slain many, they have not +slain all, and the remnant have fled by divers ways westaway, that they +may gain the wood and the ways to Rose-dale; and the stoutest of the +thralls are at their heels, and ever as they go fresh men from the fields +join in the chase with great joy. I have gathered together of the best +of them two hundreds and a half well-armed; and if thou wilt give me +leave, I will get to me yet more, and follow hard on the fleers, and so +get me home to Rose-dale; for thither will these runaways to meet whatso +of their kind may be left there. Also I would fain be there to set some +order amongst the poor folk of mine own people, whom this day’s work hath +delivered from torment. And if thou wilt suffer a few men of the +Dalesmen to come along with me, then shall all things be better done +there.’ + +‘Luck go with thine hands!’ said Face-of-god. ‘Take whomso thou wilt of +the Burgdalers that have a mind to fare with thee to the number of five +score; and send word of thy thriving to Folk-might, the chieftain of the +Dale; as for us, meseemeth that we shall abide here no long while. How +sayest thou, Folk-might, shall Dallach go?’ + +Then Folk-might, who stood close beside him, looked up and reddened +somewhat, as a man caught heedless when he should be heedful; but he +looked kindly on Face-of-god, and said: + +‘War-leader, so long as thou art in the Dale which ye kindreds have won +back for us, thou art the chieftain, and no other, and I bid thee do as +thou wilt in this matter, and in all things; and I hereby give command to +all my kindred to do according to thy will everywhere and always, as they +love me; and indeed I deem that thy will shall be theirs; since it is +only fools who know not their well-wishers. How say ye, kinsmen?’ + +Then those about cried out: ‘Hail to Face-of-god! Hail to the Dalesmen! +Hail to our friends!’ + +But Folk-might went up to Face-of-god, and threw his arms about him and +kissed him, and he said therewithal, so that most men heard him: + +‘Herewith I kiss not only thee, thou goodly and glorious warrior! but +this kiss and embrace is for all the men of the kindreds of the Dale and +the Shepherds; since I deem that never have men more valiant dwelt upon +the earth.’ + +Therewith all men shouted for joy of him, and were exceeding glad; but +Folk-might spake apart to Face-of-god and said: + +‘Brother, I suppose that thou wilt deem it good to abide in this Hall or +anigh it; for hereabouts now is the heart of the Host. But as for me, I +would have leave to depart for a little; since I have an errand, whereof +thou mayest wot.’ + +Then Face-of-god smiled on him, and said: ‘Go, and all good go with thee; +and tell my father that I would have tidings, since I may not be there.’ +So he spake; yet in his heart was he glad that he might not go to behold +the Bride lying sick and sorry. But Folk-might departed without more +words; and in the door of the Hall he met Crow the Shaft-speeder, who +would have spoken to him, and given him the tidings; but Folk-might said +to him: ‘Do thine errand to the War-leader, who is within the Hall.’ And +so went on his way. + +Then came Crow up the Hall, and stood before Face-of-god and said: +‘War-leader, we have done that which was to be done, and have cleared all +the houses about the Market-stead. Moreover, by the rede of Dallach we +have set certain men of the poor folk of the Dale, who are well looked to +by the others, to the burying of the slain felons; and they be digging +trenches in the fields on the north side of the Market-stead, and carry +the carcasses thither as they may. But the slain whom they find of the +kindreds do they array out yonder before this Hall. In all wise are +these men tame and biddable, save that they rage against the Dusky Men, +though they fear them yet. As for us, they deem us Gods come down from +heaven to help them. So much for what is good: now have I an ill word to +say; to wit, that in the houses whereas we have found many thralls alive, +yet also have we found many dead; for amongst these murder-carles were +some of an evil sort, who, when they saw that the battle would go against +them, rushed into the houses hewing down all before them—man, woman, and +child; so that many of the halls and chambers we saw running blood like +to shambles. To be short: of them whom they were going to hew to the +Gods, we have found thirteen living and three dead, of which latter is +one woman; and of the living, seven women; and all these, living and +dead, with the leaden shackles yet on them wherein they should be burned. +To all these and others whom we have found, we have done what of service +we could in the way of victual and clothes, so that they scarce believe +that they are on this lower earth. Moreover, I have with me two score of +them, who are men of some wits, and who know of the stores of victual and +other wares which the felons had, and these will fetch and carry for you +as much as ye will. Is all done rightly, War-leader?’ + +‘Right well,’ said Face-of-god, ‘and we give thee our thanks therefor. +And now it were well if these thy folk were to dight our dinner for us in +some green field the nighest that may be, and thither shall all the Host +be bidden by sound of horn. Meantime, let us void this Hall till it be +cleansed of the filth of the Dusky Ones; but hereafter shall we come +again to it, and light a fire on the Holy Hearth, and bid the Gods and +the Fathers come back and behold their children sitting glad in the +ancient Hall.’ + +Then men shouted and were exceeding joyous; but Face-of-god said once +more: ‘Bear ye a bench out into the Market-place over against the door of +this Hall: thereon will I sit with other chieftains of the kindreds, that +whoso will may have recourse to us.’ + +So therewith all the men of the kindreds made their ways out of the Hall +and into the Market-stead, which was by this time much cleared of the +slaughtered felons; and the bale for the burnt-offering was now but +smouldering, and a thin column of blue smoke was going up wavering amidst +the light airs of the afternoon. Men were somewhat silent now; for they +were stiff and weary with the morning’s battle; and a many had been hurt +withal; and on many there yet rested the after-grief of battle, and +sorrow for the loss of friends and well-wishers. + +For in the battle had fallen one long hundred and two of the men of the +Host; and of these were two score and five of the kindreds of the Steer, +the Bull, and the Bridge, who had made such valiant onslaught by the +southern road. Of the Shepherds died one score save three; for though +they scattered the foe at once, yet they fell on with such headlong +valour, rather than wisely, that many were trapped in the throng of the +Dusky Men. Of the Woodlanders were slain one score and nine; for hard +had been the fight about them, and no man of them spared himself one +whit. Of the men of the Wolf, who were but a few, fell sixteen men, and +all save two of these in Face-of-god’s battle. Of the Burgdale men whom +Folk-might led, to wit, them of the Face, the Vine, and the Sickle, were +but seven men slain outright. In this tale are told all those who died +of their hurts after the day of battle. Therewithal many others were +sorely hurt who mended, and went about afterwards hale and hearty. + +So as the folk abode in the Market-place, somewhat faint and weary, they +heard horns blow up merrily, and Crow the Shaft-speeder came forth and +stood on the mound of the altar, and bade men fare to dinner, and +therewith he led the way, bearing in his hand the banner of the Golden +Bushel, of which House he was; and they followed him into a fair and +great mead on the southwest of Silver-stead, besprinkled about with +ancient trees of sweet chestnut. There they found the boards spread for +them with the best of victual which the poor down-trodden folk knew how +to dight for them; and especially was there great plenty of good wine of +the sun-smitten bents. + +So they fell to their meat, and the poor folk, both men and women, served +them gladly, though they were somewhat afeard of these fierce +sword-wielders, the Gods who had delivered them. The said thralls were +mostly not of those who had fallen so bitterly on their fleeing masters, +but were men and women of the households, not so roughly treated as the +others, that is to say, those who had been wont to toil under the lash in +the fields and the silver-mines, and were as wild as they durst be. + +As for these waiting-thralls, the men of the kindreds were gentle and +blithe with them, and often as they served them would they stay their +hands (and especially if they were women), and would draw down their +heads to put a morsel in their mouths, or set the wine-cup to their lips; +and they would stroke them and caress them, and treat them in all wise as +their dear friends. Moreover, when any man was full, he would arise and +take hold of one of the thralls, and set him in his place, and serve him +with meat and drink, and talk with him kindly, so that the poor folk were +much bewildered with joy. And the first that arose from table were the +Sun-beam and Bow-may and Hall-face, with many of the swains and the women +of the Woodlanders; and they went from table to table serving the others. + +The Sun-beam had done off her armour, and went about exceeding fair and +lovely in her kirtle; but Bow-may yet bore her hauberk, for she loved it, +and indeed it was so fine and well-wrought that it was no great burden. +Albeit she had gone down with the Sun-beam and other women to a fair +stream thereby, and there had they bathed and washed themselves; and +Bow-may’s hurts, which were not great, had been looked to and bound up +afresh, and she had come to table unhelmed, with a wreath of wind-flowers +round her head. + +There then they feasted; and their hearts were strengthened by the meat +and drink; and if sorrow were blended with their joy, yet were they +high-hearted through both joy and sorrow, looking forward to the good +days to be in the Dales at the Roots of the Mountains, and the love and +fellowship of Folks and of Houses. + +But as for Face-of-god, he went not to the meadow, but abode sitting on +the bench in the Market-place, where were none else now of the kindreds +save the appointed warders. They had brought him a morsel and a cup of +wine, and he had eaten and drunk; and now he sat there with Dale-warden +lying sheathed across his knees, and seeming to gaze on the thralls of +Silver-dale busied in carrying away the bodies of the slain felons, after +they had stripped them of their raiment and weapons. Yet indeed all this +was before his eyes as a picture which he noted not. Rather he sat +pondering many things; wondering at his being there in Silver-dale in the +hour of victory; longing for the peace of Burgdale and the bride-chamber +of the Sun-beam. Then went his thought out toward his old playmate lying +hurt in Silver-dale; and his heart was grieved because of her, yet not +for long, though his thought still dwelt on her; since he deemed that she +would live and presently be happy—and happy thenceforward for many years. +So pondered Face-of-god in the Market-place of Silver-dale. + + + + +CHAPTER L. FOLK-MIGHT SEETH THE BRIDE AND SPEAKETH WITH HER. + + +NOW tells the tale of Folk-might, that he went his ways from the Hall to +the house where the Bride lay; and the swain who had brought the message +went along with him, and he was proud of walking beside so mighty a +warrior, and he talked to Folk-might as they went; and the sound of his +voice was irksome to the chieftain, but he made as though he hearkened. +Yet when they came to the door of the house, which was just out of the +Place on the Southern road (for thereby had the Bride fallen to earth), +he could withhold his grief no longer, but turned on the threshold and +laid his head on the door-jamb, and sobbed and wept till the tears fell +down like rain. And the boy stood by wondering, and wishing that +Folk-might would forbear weeping, but durst not speak to him. + +In a while Folk-might left weeping and went in, and found a fair hall +sore befouled by the felons, and in the corner on a bed covered with furs +the wounded woman; and at first sight he deemed her not so pale as he +looked to see her, as she lay with her long dark-red hair strewed over +the pillow, her head moving about wearily. A linen cloth was thrown over +her body, but her arms lay out of it before her. Beside her sat the +Alderman, his face sober enough, but not as one in heavy sorrow; and +anigh him was another chair as if someone had but just got up from it. +There was no one else in the hall save two women of the Woodlanders, one +of whom was cooking some potion on the hearth, and another was sweeping +the floor anigh of bran or some such stuff, which had been thrown down to +sop up the blood. + +So Folk-might went up to the Bride, sorely dreading the image of death +which she had grown to be, and sorely loving the woman she was and would +be. + +He knelt down by the bedside, heeding Iron-face little, though he nodded +friendly to him, and he held his face close to hers; but she had her eyes +shut and did not open them till he had been there a little while; and +then they opened and fixed themselves on his without surprise or change. +Then she lifted her right hand (for it was in her left shoulder and side +that she had been hurt) and slowly laid it on his head, and drew his face +to hers and kissed it fondly, as she both smiled and let the tears run +over from her eyes. Then she spake in a weak voice: + +‘Thou seest, chieftain and dear friend, that I may not stand by thy +victorious side to-day. And now, though I were fain if thou wouldst +never leave me, yet needs must thou go about thy work, since thou art +become the Alderman of the Folk of Silver-dale. Yea, and even if thou +wert not to go from me, yet in a manner should I go from thee. For I am +grievously hurt, and I know by myself, and also the leeches have told me, +that the fever is a-coming on me; so that presently I shall not know +thee, but may deem thee to be a woman, or a hound, or the very Wolf that +is the image of the Father of thy kindred; or even, it may be, someone +else—that I have played with time agone.’ + +Her voice faltered and faded out here, and she was silent a while; then +she said: + +‘So depart, kind friend and dear love, bearing this word with thee, that +should I die, I call on Iron-face my kinsman to bear witness that I bid +thee carry me to bale in Silver-dale, and lay mine ashes with the ashes +of thy Fathers, with whom thine own shall mingle at the last, since I +have been of the warriors who have helped to bring thee aback to the land +of thy folk.’ + +Then she smiled and shut her eyes and said: ‘And if I live, as indeed I +hope, and how glad and glad I shall be to live, then shalt thou bring me +to thy house and thy bed, that I may not depart from thee while both our +lives last.’ + +And she opened her eyes and looked at him; and he might not speak for a +while, so ravished as he was betwixt joy and sorrow. But the Alderman +arose and took a gold ring from off his arm, and spake: + +‘This is the gold ring of the God of the Face, and I bear it on mine arm +betwixt the Folk and the God in all man-motes, and I bore it through the +battle to-day; and it is as holy a ring as may be; and since ye are +plighting troth, and I am the witness thereof, it were good that ye held +this ring together and called the God to witness, who is akin to the God +of the Earth, as we all be. Take the ring, Folk-might, for I trust thee; +and of all women now alive would I have this woman happy.’ + +So Folk-might took the ring and thrust his hand through it, and took her +hand, and said: + +‘Ye Fathers, thou God of the Face, thou Earth-god, thou Warrior, bear +witness that my life and my body are plighted to this woman, the Bride of +the House of the Steer!’ + +His face was flushed and bright as he spoke, but as his words ceased he +noted how feebly her hand lay in his, and his face fell, and he gazed on +her timidly. But she lay quiet, and said softly and slowly: + +‘O Fathers of my kindred! O Warrior and God of the Earth! bear witness +that I plight my troth to this man, to lie in his grave if I die, and in +his bed if I live.’ + +And she smiled on him again, and then closed her eyes; but opened them +presently once more, and said: + +‘Dear friend, how fared it with Gold-mane to-day?’ + +Said Folk-might: ‘So well he did, that none might have done better. He +fared in the fight as if he had been our Father the Warrior: he is a +great chieftain.’ + +She said: ‘Wilt thou give him this message from me, that in no wise he +forget the oath which he swore upon the finger-ring as it lay on the +sundial of the Garden of the Face? And say, moreover, that I am sorry +that we shall part, and have between us such breadth of wild-wood and +mountain-neck.’ + +‘Yea, surely will I give thy message,’ said Folk-might; and in his heart +he rejoiced, because he heard her speak as if she were sure of life. +Then she said faintly: + +‘It is now thy work to depart from me, and to do as it behoveth a +chieftain of the people and the Alderman of Silver-dale. Depart, lest +the leeches chide me: farewell, my dear!’ + +So he laid his face to hers and kissed her, and rose up and embraced +Iron-face, and went his ways without looking back. + +But just over the threshold he met old Hall-ward of the House of the +Steer, who was at point to enter, and he greeted him kindly. The old man +looked on him steadily, and said: ‘To-morrow or the day after I will +utter a word to thee, O Chief of the Wolf.’ + +‘In a good hour,’ said Folk-might, ‘for all thy words are true.’ +Therewith he gat him away from the house, and came to Face-of-god, where +he sat before the altar of the Crooked Sword; and now were the chiefs +come back from their meat, and were sitting with him; there also were +Wood-father and Wood-wont; but Bow-may was with the Sun-beam, who was +resting softly in the fair meadow after all the turmoil. + +So men made place for Folk-might beside the War-leader, who looked upon +his face, and saw that it was sober and unsmiling, but not heavy or moody +with grief. So he deemed that all was as well as it might be with the +Bride, and with a good heart fell to taking counsel with the others; and +kindly and friendly were the redes which they held there, with no +gainsaying of man by man, for the whole folk was glad at heart. + +So there they ordered all matters duly for that present time, and by then +they had made an end, it was past sunset, and men were lodged in the +chief houses about the Market-stead. + +Albeit, though they ate their meat with all joy of heart, and were merry +in converse one with the other, the men of the Wolf would by no means +feast in their Hall again till it had been cleansed and hallowed anew. + + + + +CHAPTER LI. THE DEAD BORNE TO BALE: THE MOTE-HOUSE RE-HALLOWED. + + +ON the morrow they bore to bale their slain men, and there withal what +was left of the bodies of the four chieftains of the Great Undoing. They +brought them into a most fair meadow to the west of Silver-stead, where +they had piled up a very great bale for the burning. In that meadow was +the Doom-ring and Thing-stead of the Folk of the Wolf, and they had +hallowed it when they had first conquered Silver-dale, and it was deemed +far holier than the Mote-house aforesaid, wherein the men of the kindred +might hold no due court; but rather it was a Feast-hall, and a house +where men had converse together, and wherein precious things and tokens +of the Fathers were stored up. + +The Thing-stead in the meadow was flowery and well-grassed, and a little +stream winding about thereby nearly cast a ring around it; and beyond the +stream was a full fair grove of oak-trees, very tall and ancient. There +then they burned the dead of the Host, wrapped about in exceeding fair +raiment. And when the ashes were gathered, the men of Burgdale and the +Shepherds left those of their folk for the kindred to bury there in +Silver-dale; for they said that they had a right to claim such guesting +for them that had helped to win back the Dale. + +But when the Burning was done and the bale quenched, and the ashes +gathered and buried (and that was on the morrow), then men bore forth the +Banners of the Jaws of the Wolf, and the Red Hand, and the Silver Arm, +and the Golden Bushel, and the Ragged Sword, and the Wolf of the +Woodland; and with great joy and triumph they brought them into the +Mote-house and hung them up over the daïs; and they kindled fire on the +Holy Hearth by holding up a disk of bright glass to the sun; and then +they sang before the banners. And this is somewhat of the song that they +sang before them: + + Why are ye wending? O whence and whither? + What shineth over the fallow swords? + What is the joy that ye bear in hither? + What is the tale of your blended words? + + No whither we wend, but here have we stayed us, + Here by the ancient Holy Hearth; + Long have the moons and the years delayed us, + But here are we come from the heart of the dearth. + + We are the men of joy belated; + We are the wanderers over the waste; + We are but they that sat and waited, + Watching the empty winds make haste. + + Long, long we sat and knew no others, + Save alien folk and the foes of the road; + Till late and at last we met our brothers, + And needs must we to the old abode. + + For once on a day they prayed for guesting; + And how were we then their bede to do? + Wild was the waste for the people’s resting, + And deep the wealth of the Dale we knew. + + Here were the boards that we must spread them + Down in the fruitful Dale and dear; + Here were the halls where we would bed them: + And how should we tarry otherwhere? + + Over the waste we came together: + There was the tangle athwart the way; + There was the wind-storm and the weather; + The red rain darkened down the day. + + But that day of the days what grief should let us, + When we saw through the clouds the dale-glad sun? + We tore at the tangle that beset us, + And stood at peace when the day was done. + + Hall of the Happy, take our greeting! + Bid thou the Fathers come and see + The Folk-signs on thy walls a-meeting, + And deem to-day what men we be. + + Look on the Holy Hearth new-litten, + How the sparks fly twinkling up aloof! + How the wavering smoke by the sunlight smitten, + Curls up around the beam-rich roof! + + For here once more is the Wolf abiding, + Nor ever more from the Dale shall wend, + And never again his head be hiding, + Till all days be dark and the world have end. + + + + +CHAPTER LII. OF THE NEW BEGINNING OF GOOD DAYS IN SILVER-DALE. + + +ON the third day there was high-tide and great joy amongst all men from +end to end of the Dale; and the delivered thralls were feasted and made +much of by the kindreds, so that they scarce knew how to believe their +own five senses that told them the good tidings. + +For none strove to grieve them and torment them; what they would, that +did they, and they had all things plenteously; since for all was there +enough and to spare of goods stored up for the Dusky Men, as corn and +wine and oil and spices, and raiment and silver. Horses were there also, +and neat and sheep and swine in abundance. Withal there was the good and +dear land; the waxing corn on the acres; the blossoming vines on the +hillside; and about the orchards and alongside the ways, the plum-trees +and cherry-trees and pear-trees that had cast their blossom and were +overhung with little young fruit; and the fair apple-trees a-blossoming, +and the chestnuts spreading their boughs from their twisted trunks over +the green grass. And there was the goodly pasture for the horses and the +neat, and the thymy hill-grass for the sheep; and beyond it all, the +thicket of the great wood, with its unfailing store of goodly timber of +ash and oak and holly and yoke-elm. There need no man lack unless man +compelled him, and all was rich enough and wide enough for the waxing of +a very great folk. + +Now, therefore, men betook them to what was their own before the coming +of the Dusky Men; and though at first many of the delivered thrall-folk +feasted somewhat above measure, and though there were some of them who +were not very brisk at working on the earth for their livelihood; yet +were the most part of them quick of wit and deft of hand, and they mostly +fell to presently at their cunning, both of husbandry and handicraft. +Moreover, they had great love of the kindreds, and especially of the +Woodlanders, and strove to do all things that might pleasure them. And +as for those who were dull and listless because of their many torments of +the last ten years, they would at least fetch and carry willingly for +them of the kindreds; and these last grudged them not meat and raiment +and house-room, even if they wrought but little for it, because they +called to mind the evil days of their thralldom, and bethought them how +few are men’s days upon the earth. + +Thus all things throve in Silver-dale, and the days wore on toward the +summer, and the Yule-tide rest beyond it, and the years beyond and far +beyond the winning of Silver-dale. + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. OF THE WORD WHICH HALL-WARD OF THE STEER HAD FOR +FOLK-MIGHT. + + +BUT of the time then passing, it is to be said that the whole host abode +in Silver-dale in great mirth and good liking, till they should hear +tidings of Dallach and his company, who had followed hot-foot on the +fleers of the Dusky Men. And on the tenth day after the battle, +Iron-face and his two sons and Stone-face were sitting about sunset under +a great oak-tree by that stream-side which ran through the Mote-stead; +there also was Folk-might, somewhat distraught because of his love for +the Bride, who was now mending of her hurts. As they sat there in all +content they saw folk coming toward them, three in number, and as they +drew nigher they saw that it was old Hall-ward of the Steer, and the +Sun-beam and Bow-may following him hand in hand. + +When they came to the brook Bow-may ran up to the elder to help him over +the stepping-stones; which she did as one who loved him, as the old man +was stark enough to have waded the water waist-deep. She was no longer +in her war-gear, but was clad after her wont of Shadowy Vale, in nought +but a white woollen kirtle. So she stood in the stream beside the +stones, and let the swift water ripple up over her ankles, while the +elder leaned on her shoulder and looked down upon her kindly. The +Sun-beam followed after them, stepping daintily from stone to stone, so +that she was a fair sight to see; her face was smiling and happy, and as +she stepped forth on to the green grass the colour flushed up in it, but +she cast her eyes adown as one somewhat shamefaced. + +So the chieftains rose up before the leader of the Steer, and Folk-might +went up to him, and greeted him, and took his hand and kissed him on the +cheek. And Hall-ward said: + +‘Hail to the chiefs of the kindred, and my earthly friends!’ + +Then Folk-might bade him sit down by him, and all the men sat down again; +but the Sun-beam leaned her back against a sapling ash hard by, her feet +set close together; and Bow-may went to and fro in short turns, keeping +well within ear-shot. + +Then said Hall-ward: ‘Folk-might, I have prayed thy kinswoman Bow-may to +lead me to thee, that I might speak with thee; and it is good that I find +my kinsmen of the Face in thy company; for I would say a word to thee +that concerns them somewhat.’ + +Said Folk-might: ‘Guest, and warrior of the Steer, thy words are ever +good; and if this time thou comest to ask aught of me, then shall they be +better than good.’ + +Said Hall-ward: ‘Tell me, Folk-might, hast thou seen my daughter the +Bride to-day?’ + +‘Yea,’ said Folk-might, reddening. + +‘What didst thou deem of her state?’ said Hall-ward. + +Said Folk-might: ‘Thou knowest thyself that the fever hath left her, and +that she is mending.’ + +Hall-ward said: ‘In a few days belike we shall be wending home to +Burgdale: when deemest thou that the Bride may travel, if it were but on +a litter?’ + +Folk-might was silent, and Hall-ward smiled on him and said: + +‘Wouldst thou have her tarry, O chief of the Wolf?’ + +‘So it is,’ said Folk-might, ‘that it might be labour lost for her to +journey to Burgdale at present.’ + +‘Thinkest thou?’ said Hall-ward; ‘hast thou a mind then that if she goeth +she shall speedily come back hither?’ + +‘It has been in my mind,’ said Folk-might, ‘that I should wed her. Wilt +thou gainsay it? I pray thee, Iron-face my friend, and ye Stone-face and +Hall-face, and thou, Face-of-god, my brother, to lay thy words to mine in +this matter.’ + +Then said Hall-ward stroking his beard: ‘There will be a seat missing in +the Hall of the Steer, and a sore lack in the heart of many a man in +Burgdale if the Bride come back to us no more. We looked not to lose the +maiden by her wedding; for it is no long way betwixt the House of the +Steer and the House of the Face. But now, when I arise in the morning +and miss her, I shall take my staff and walk down the street of +Burgstead; for I shall say, The Maiden hath gone to see Iron-face my +friend; she is well in the House of the Face. And then shall I remember +how that the wood and the wastes lie between us. How sayest thou, +Alderman?’ + +‘A sore lack it will be,’ said Iron-face; ‘but all good go with her! +Though whiles shall I go hatless down Burgstead street, and say, Now will +I go fetch my daughter the Bride from the House of the Steer; while many +a day’s journey shall lie betwixt us.’ + +Said Hall-ward: ‘I will not beat about the bush, Folk-might; what gift +wilt thou give us for the maiden?’ + +Said Folk-might: ‘Whatever is mine shall be thine; and whatsoever of the +Dale the kindred and the poor folk begrudge thee not, that shalt thou +have; and deemest thou that they will begrudge thee aught? Is it +enough?’ + +Hall-ward said: ‘I wot not, chieftain; see thou to it! Bow-may, my +friend, bring hither that which I would have from Silver-dale for the +House of the Steer in payment for our maiden.’ + +Then Bow-may came forward speedily, and went up to the Sun-beam, and led +her by the hand in front of Folk-might and Hall-ward and the other +chieftains. Then Folk-might started, and leapt up from the ground; for, +sooth to say, he had been thinking so wholly of the Bride, that his +sister was not in his mind, and he had had no deeming of whither +Hall-ward was coming, though the others guessed well enough, and now +smiled on him merrily, when they saw how wild Folk-might stared. As for +the Sun-beam, she stood there blushing like a rose in June, but looking +her brother straight in the face, as Hall-ward said: + +‘Folk-might, chief of the Wolf, since thou wouldst take our maiden the +Bride away from us, I ask thee to make good her place with this maiden; +so that the House of the Steer may not lack, when they who are wont to +wed therein come to us and pray us for a bedfellow for the best of their +kindred.’ + +Then became Folk-might smiling and merry like unto the others, and he +said: ‘Chief of the Steer, this gift is thine, together with aught else +which thou mayst desire of us.’ + +Then he kissed the Sun-beam, and said: ‘Sister, we looked for this to +befall in some fashion. Yet we deemed that he that should lead thee away +might abide with us for a moon or two. But now let all this be, since if +thou art not to bear children to the kindreds of Silver-dale, yet shalt +thou bear them to their friends and fellows. And now choose what gift +thou wilt have of us to keep us in thy memory.’ + +She said: ‘The memory of my people shall not fade from me; yet indeed I +ask thee for a gift, to wit, Bow-may, and the two sons of Wood-father +that are left since Wood-wicked was slain; and belike the elder and his +wife will be fain to go with their sons, and ye will not hinder them.’ + +‘Even so shall it be done,’ said Folk-might, and he was silent a while, +pondering; and then he said: + +‘Lo you, friends! doth it not seem strange to you that peace sundereth as +well as war? Indeed I deem it grievous that ye shall have to miss your +well-beloved kinswoman. And for me, I am now grown so used to this woman +my sister, though at whiles she hath been masterful with me, that I shall +often turn about and think to speak to her, when there lie long days of +wood and waste betwixt her voice and mine. + +The Sun-beam laughed in his face, though the tears stood in her eyes, as +she said: ‘Keep up thine heart, brother; for at least the way is shorter +betwixt Burgdale and Silver-dale than betwixt life and death; and the +road we shall learn belike.’ + +Said Hall-face: ‘So it is that my brother is no ill woodman, as ye +learned last autumn.’ + +Iron-face smiled, but somewhat sadly; for he beheld Face-of-god, who had +no eyes for anyone save the Sun-beam; and no marvel was that, for never +had she looked fairer. And forsooth the War-leader was not utterly +well-pleased; for he was deeming that there would be delaying of his +wedding, now that the Sun-beam was to become a maid of the Steer; and in +his mind he half deemed that it would be better if he were to take her by +the hand and lead her home through the wild-wood, he and she alone; and +she looked on him shyly, as though she had a deeming of his thought. +Albeit he knew it might not be, that he, the chosen War-leader, should +trouble the peace of the kindred; for he wotted that all this was done +for peace’ sake. + +So Hall-ward stood forth and took the Sun-beam’s right hand in his, and +said: + +‘Now do I take this maiden, Sun-beam of the kindred of the Wolf, and lead +her into the House of the Steer, to be in all ways one of the maidens of +our House, and to wed in the blood wherein we have been wont to wed. +Neither from henceforth let anyone say that this woman is not of the +blood of the Steer; for we have given her our blood, and she is of us +duly and truly.’ + +Thereafter they talked together merrily for a little, and then turned +toward the houses, for the sun was now down; and as they went Iron-face +spake to his son, and said: + +‘Gold-mane, wilt thou verily keep thine oath to wed the fairest woman in +the world? By how much is this one fairer than my dear daughter who +shall no more dwell in mine house?’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Yea, father, I shall keep mine oath; for the Gods, who +know much, know that when I swore last Yule I was thinking of the fair +woman going yonder beside Hall-ward, and of none other.’ + +‘Ah, son!’ said Iron-face, ‘why didst thou beguile us? Hadst thou but +told us the truth then!’ + +‘Yea, Alderman,’ said Face-of-god smiling, ‘and how thou wouldest have +raged against me then, when thou hast scarce forgiven me now! In sooth, +father, I feared to tell you all: I was young; I was one against the +world. Yea, yea; and even that was sweet to me, so sorely as I loved +her—Hast thou forgotten, father?’ + +Iron-face smiled, and answered not; and so came they to the house wherein +they were guested. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. TIDINGS OF DALLACH: A FOLK-MOTE IN SILVER-DALE. + + +THREE days thereafter came two swift runners from Rose-dale with tidings +of Dallach. In all wise had he thriven, and had slain many of the +runaways, and had come happily to Rose-dale: therein by the mere shaking +of their swords had they all their will; for there were but a few of the +Dusky Warriors in the Dale, since the more part had fared to the +slaughter in Silver-stead. Now therefore had Dallach been made Alderman +of Rose-dale; and the Burgdalers who had gone with him should abide the +coming thither of the rest of the Burgdale Host, and meantime of their +coming should uphold the new Alderman in Rose-dale. Howbeit Dallach sent +word that it was not to be doubted but that many of the Dusky Men had +escaped to the woods, and should yet be the death of many a mother’s son, +unless it were well looked to. + +And now the more part of the Burgdale men and the Shepherds began to look +toward home, albeit some amongst them had not been ill-pleased to abide +there yet a while; for life was exceeding soft to them there, though they +helped the poor folk gladly in their husbandry. For especially the women +of the Dale, of whom many were very goodly, hankered after the fair-faced +tall Burgdalers, and were as kind to them as might be. Forsooth not a +few, both carles and queens, of the old thrall-folk prayed them of +Burgdale to take them home thither, that they might see new things and +forget their old torments once for all, yea, even in dreams. The +Burgdalers would not gainsay them, and there was no one else to hinder; +so that there went with the Burgdale men at their departure hard on five +score of the Silver-dale folk who were not of the kindreds. + +And now was a great Folk-mote holden in Silver-dale, whereto the Burgdale +men and the Shepherds were bidden; and thereat the War-leader gave out +the morrow of the morrow for the day of the departure of the Host. There +also were the matters of Silver-dale duly ordered: the Men of the Wolf +would have had the Woodlanders dwell with them in the fair-builded stead, +and take to them of the goodly stone houses there what they would; but +this they naysaid, choosing rather to dwell in scattered houses, which +they built for themselves at the utmost limit of the tillage. + +Indeed, the most abode not even there a long while; for they loved the +wood and its deeds. So they went forth into the wood, and cleared them +space to dwell in, and builded them halls such as they loved, and fell to +their old woodland crafts of charcoal-burning and hunting, wherein they +throve well. And good for Silver-dale was their abiding there, since +they became a sure defence and stout outpost against all foemen. For the +rest, wheresoever they dwelt, they were guest-cherishing and blithe, and +were well beloved by all people; and they wedded with the other Houses of +the Children of the Wolf. + +As to the other matters whereof they took rede at this Folk-mote, they +had mostly to do with the warding of the Dale, and the learning of the +delivered thralls to handle weapons duly. For men deemed it most like +that they would have to meet other men of the kindred of the Felons; +which indeed fell out as the years wore. + +Moreover, Folk-might (by the rede of Stone-face) sent messengers to the +Plain and the Cities, unto men whom he knew there, doing them to wit of +the tidings of Silver-dale, and how that a peaceful and guest-loving +people, having good store of wares, now dwelt therein, so that chapmen +might have recourse thither. + +Lastly spake Folk-might and said: + +‘Guests and brothers-in-arms, we have been looking about our new house, +which was our old one, and therein we find great store of wares which we +need not, and which we can but use if ye use them. Of your kindness +therefore we pray you to take of those things what ye can easily carry. +And if ye say the way is long, as indeed it is, since ye are bent on +going through the wood to Rose-dale, and so on to Burgdale, yet shall we +furnish you with beasts to bear your goods, and with such wains as may +pass through the woodland ways.’ + +Then rose up Fox of Upton and said: ‘O Folk-might, and ye men of the +Wolf, be it known unto you, that if we have done anything for your help +in the winning of Silver-dale, we have thus done that we might help +ourselves also, so that we might live in peace henceforward, and that we +might have your friendship and fellowship therewithal, so that here in +Silver-dale might wax a mighty folk who joined unto us should be strong +enough to face the whole world. Such are the redes of wise men when they +go a-warring. But we have no will to go back home again made rich with +your wealth; this hath been far from our thought in this matter.’ + +And there went up a murmur from all the Burgdalers yeasaying his word. + +But Folk-might took up the word again and spake: + +‘Men of Burgdale and the Sheepcotes, what ye say is both manly and +friendly; yet, since we look to see a road made plain through the +woodland betwixt Burgdale and Silver-dale, and that often ye shall face +us in the feast-hall, and whiles stand beside us in the fray, we must +needs pray you not to shame us by departing empty-handed; for how then +may we look upon your faces again? Stone-face, my friend, thou art old +and wise; therefore I bid thee to help us herein, and speak for us to thy +kindred, that they naysay us not in this matter.’ + +Then stood up Stone-face and said: ‘Forsooth, friends, Folk-might is in +the right herein; for he may look for anger from the wights that come and +go betwixt his kindred and the Gods, if they see us faring back giftless +through the woods. Moreover, now that ye have seen Silver-dale, ye may +wot how rich a land it is of all good things, and able to bring forth +enough and to spare. And now meseemeth the Gods love this Folk that +shall dwell here; and they shall become a mighty Folk, and a part of our +very selves. Therefore let us take the gifts of our friends, and thank +them blithely. For surely, as saith Folk-might, henceforth the wood +shall become a road betwixt us, and the thicket a halting-place for +friends bearing goodwill in their hands.’ + +When he had spoken, men yeasaid his words and forbore the gifts no +longer; and the Folk-mote sundered in all loving-kindness. + + + + +CHAPTER LV. DEPARTURE FROM SILVER-DALE. + + +ON morrow of the morrow were the Burgdale men and they of the Shepherds +gathered together in the Market-stead early in the morning, and they were +all ready for departure; and the men of the Wolf and the Woodlanders, and +of the delivered thralls a great many, stood round about them grieving +that they must go. There was much talk between the folk of the Dale and +the Guests, and many promises were given and taken to come and go betwixt +the two Dales. There also were the men of the thrall-folk who were to +wend home with the Burgdalers; and they had been stuffed with good things +by the men of the kindreds, and were as fain as might be. + +As for the Sun-beam, she was somewhat out of herself at first, being +eager and restless beyond her wont, and yet at whiles weeping-ripe when +she called to mind that she was now leaving all those things, the gain +whereof had been a dream to her both waking and sleeping for these years +past. But at last, as she stood in the door of the Mote-house, and +beheld all the throng of folk happy and friendly, it came over her that +she herself had done her full share to bring all this about, and that all +those pleasant places of Silver-dale now full of the goodly life of man +would be there even as she had striven for them, and that they would be a +part of her left behind, though she were dwelling otherwhere. + +Therewithal she said to herself that it was now her part to wield the +life of men in Burgdale, and begin once more her days of a chieftain and +a swayer of the Folk, and the life of a stirring woman, which the edge of +the sword and the need of the hard hand-play had taken out of her hands +for a while, making her as a child in the hands of the strong wielders of +the blades. + +So now she became calm once more, and her face was clad again with the +full measure of that majesty of beauty which had once overawed +Face-of-god amidst his love of her; and folk beheld her and marvelled at +her fairness, and said: ‘She hath an inward sorrow at leaving the fair +Dale wherein her Fathers dwelt, and where her mother’s ashes lie in +earth.’ Albeit now was her sorrow but little, and much was her hope, and +her foresight of days to be; though all the Dale, yea, every leaf and +twig of it whereby her feet had ever passed, and each stone of the fair +houses, was to her as a picture that she could look on from henceforth +for ever. + +Of the Bride it is to be said that she was now much mended, and she +caused men bear her on a litter out into the Marketplace, that she might +look on the departure of her folk. She had seen Face-of-god once and +again since the Day of Battle, and each time had been kind and blithe +with him; and for Iron-face, she loved him so well that she was ever loth +to let him depart from her, save when Folk-might was with her. + +And now was the Alderman standing beside her, and she said to him: +‘Friend and kinsman, this is the day of departure, and though I must +needs abide behind, and am content to abide, yet doth mine heart ache +with the sundering; for to-morrow when I wake in the morning there will +be no more sending of a messenger to fetch thee to me. Indeed, great +hath been the love between me and my people, and nought hath come between +us to mar it. Now, kinsman, I would see Gold-mane, my cousin, that I may +bid him farewell; for who knoweth if I shall see him again hereafter?’ + +Then went Iron-face and found Face-of-god where he was speaking with +Folk-might and the chieftains, and said to him: + +‘Come quickly, for thy cousin the Bride would speak with thee.’ + +Face-of-god reddened, and paled afterwards, but he went along with his +father silently; and his heart beat as he came and stood before the +litter whereas the Bride lay, clad all in white and propped up on fair +cushions of red silk. She was frail to look on, and worn and pale yet; +but he deemed that she was very happy. + +She smiled on him, and reached out her hand and said: + +‘Welcome once more, cousin!’ And he held her hand and kissed it, and was +nigh weeping, so sore was he beset by a throng of memories concerning her +and him in the days when they were little; and he bethought him of her +loving-kindness of past days, beyond that of most children, beyond that +of most maidens; and how there was nothing in his life but she had a +share in it, till the day when he found the Hall on the Mountain. + +So he said to her: ‘Kinswoman, is it well with thee?’ + +‘Yea,’ she said, ‘I am now nigh whole of my hurts.’ + +He was silent a while; then he said: + +‘And otherwise art thou merry at heart?’ + +‘Yea, indeed,’ said she; ‘yet thou wilt not find it hard to deem that I +am sorry of the sundering betwixt me and Burgdale.’ + +Again was he silent, and said in a while: ‘Dost thou deem that I wrought +that sundering?’ + +She smiled kindly on him and said: ‘Gold-mane, my playmate, thou art +become a mighty warrior and a great chief; but thou art not so mighty as +that. Many things lay behind the sundering which were neither thou nor +I.’ + +‘Yet,’ said he, ‘it was but such a little time agone that all things +seemed so sure; and we—to both of us was the outlook happy.’ + +‘Let it be happy still,’ she said, ‘now begrudging is gone. Belike the +sundering came because we were so sure, and had no defence against the +wearing of the days; even as it fareth with a folk that hath no foes.’ + +He smiled and said: ‘Even as it hath befallen _thy_ folk, O Bride, a +while ago.’ + +She reddened, and reached her hand to him, and he took it and held it, +and said: ‘Shall I see thee again as the days wear?’ + +Said she: ‘O chieftain of the Folk, thou shalt have much to do in +Burgdale, and the way is long. Yet would I have thee see my children. +Forget not the token on my hand which thou holdest. But now get thee to +thy folk with no more words; for after all, playmate, the sundering is +grievous to me, and I would not spin out the time thereof. Farewell!’ + +He said no more, but stooped down and kissed her lips, and then turned +from her, and took his ways to the head of the Host, and fell to asking +and answering, and bidding and arraying; and in a little time was his +heart dancing with joy to think of the days that lay before him, wherein +now all seemed happy. + +So was all arrayed for departure when it lacked three hours of noon. As +Folk-might had promised, there were certain light wains drawn by bullocks +abiding the departure of the Host, and of sumpter bullocks and horses no +few; and all these were laden with fair gifts of the Dale, as silver, and +raiment, and weapons. There were many things fair-wrought in the time of +the Sorrow, that henceforth should see but little sorrow. Moreover, +there was plenty of provision for the way, both meal and wine, and sheep +and neat; and all things as fair as might be, and well-arrayed. + +It was the Shepherds who were to lead the way; and after them were +arrayed the men of the Vine and the Sickle; then they of the Steer, the +Bridge, and the Bull; and lastly the House of the Face, with old +Stone-face leading them. The Sun-beam was to journey along with the +House of the Steer, which had taken her in as a maiden of their blood; +and though she had so much liefer have fared with the House of the Face, +yet she went meekly as she was bidden, as one who has gotten a great +thing, and will make no stir about a small one. + +Along with her were Wood-father and Wood-mother, and Wood-wise, now whole +of his hurt, and Wood-wont, and Bow-may. Save Bow-may, they were not +very joyous; for they were fain of Silver-dale, and it irked them to +leave it; moreover, they also had liefer have gone along with the House +of the War-leader. + +Last of all went those people of the once thralls of the Dusky Men who +had cast in their lot with the Burgdalers, and they were exceeding merry; +and especially the women of them, they were chattering like the stares in +the autumn evening, when they gather from the fields in the tall +elm-trees before they go to roost. + +Now all the men of the Dale, both of the kindreds and of the thrall-folk, +made way for the Host and its havings, that they might go their ways down +the Dale; albeit the Woodlanders clung close to the line of their ancient +friends, and with them, as men who were sorry for the sundering, were +Wolf-stone and God-swain and Spear-fist. But the chiefs, they drew +around Folk-might a little beside the way. + +Now Red-coat of Waterless, who had been hurt, and was now whole again, +cast his arms about Folk-might and kissed him, and said: + +‘All the way hence to Burgdale will I sow with good wishes for thee and +thine, and especially for my dear friend God-swain of the Silver Arm; and +I would wish and long that they might turn into spells to draw thy feet +to usward; for we love thee well.’ + +In like wise spake other of the Burgdalers; and Folk-might was kind and +blithe with them, and he said: + +‘Friends, forget ye not that the way is no longer from you to us than it +is from us to you. One half of this matter it is for you to deal with.’ + +‘True is that,’ said Red-beard of the Knolls, ‘but look you, Folk-might, +we be but simple husbandmen, and may not often stir from our meadows and +acres; even now I bethink me that May is amidst us, and I am beginning to +be drawn by the thought of the haysel. Whereas thou—’ (and therewith he +reddened) ‘I doubt that thou hast little to do save the work of +chieftains, and we know that such work is but little missed if it be +undone.’ + +Thereat Folk-might laughed; and when the others saw that he laughed, they +laughed also, else had they foreborne for courtesy’s sake. + +But Folk-might answered: ‘Nay, chief of the Sickle, I am not altogether a +chieftain, now we have gotten us peace; and somewhat of a husbandman +shall I be. Moreover, doubt ye not that I shall do my utmost to behold +the fair Dale again; for it is but mountains that meet not.’ + +Now spake Face-of-god to Folk-might, smiling and somewhat softly, and +said: ‘Is all forgiven now, since the day when we first felt each other’s +arms?’ + +‘Yea, all,’ said Folk-might; ‘now hath befallen what I foretold thee in +Shadowy Vale, that thou mightest pay for all that had come and gone, if +thou wouldest but look to it. Indeed thou wert angry with me for that +saying on that eve of Shadowy Vale; but see thou, in those days I was an +older man than thou, and might admonish thee somewhat; but now, though +but few days have gone over thine head, yet many deeds have abided in +thine hand, and thou art much aged. Anger hath left thee, and wisdom +hath waxed in thee. As for me, I may now say this word: May the Folk of +Burgdale love the Folk of Silver-dale as well as I love thee; then shall +all be well.’ + +Then Face-of-god cast his arms about him and kissed him, and turned away +toward Stone-face and Hall-face his brother, where they stood at the head +of the array of the Face; and even therewith came up the Alderman +somewhat sad and sober of countenance, and he pushed by the War-leader +roughly and would not speak with him. + +And now blew up the horns of the Shepherds, and they began to move on +amidst the shouting of the men of Silver-dale; yet were there amongst the +Woodlanders those who wept when they saw their friends verily departing +from them. + +But when they of the foremost of the Host were gotten so far forward that +the men of the Face could begin to move, lo! there was Redesman with his +fiddle amongst the leaders; and he had done a man’s work in the day of +battle, and all looked kindly on him. About him on this morn were some +who had learned the craft of singing well together, and knew his +minstrelsy, and he turned to these and nodded as their array moved on, +and he drew his bow across the strings, and straightway they fell +a-singing, even as it might be thus: + + Back again to the dear Dale where born was the kindred, + Here wend we all living, and liveth our mirth. + Here afoot fares our joyance, whatever men hindred, + Through all wrath of the heavens, all storms of the earth. + + O true, we have left here a part of our treasure, + The ashes of stout ones, the stems of the shield; + But the bold lives they spended have sown us new pleasure, + Fair tales for the telling in fold and on field. + + For as oft as we sing of their edges’ upheaving, + When the yellowing windows shine forth o’er the night, + Their names unforgotten with song interweaving + Shall draw forth dear drops from the depths of delight. + + Or when down by our feet the grey sickles are lying, + And behind us is curling the supper-tide smoke, + No whit shall they grudge us the joyance undying, + Remembrance of men that put from us the yoke. + + When the huddle of ewes from the fells we have driven, + And we see down the Dale the grey reach of the roof, + We shall tell of the gift in the battle-joy given, + All the fierceness of friends that drave sorrow aloof. + + Once then we lamented, and mourned them departed; + Once only, no oftener. Henceforth shall we fling + Their names up aloft, when the merriest hearted + To the Fathers unseen of our life-days we sing. + +Then was there silence in the ranks of men; and many murmured the names +of the fallen as they fared on their way from out the Market-place of +Silver-stead. Then once more Redesman and his mates took up the song: + + Come tell me, O friends, for whom bideth the maiden + Wet-foot from the river-ford down in the Dale? + For whom hath the goodwife the ox-waggon laden + With the babble of children, brown-handed and hale? + + Come tell me for what are the women abiding, + Till each on the other aweary they lean? + Is it loitering of evil that thus they are chiding, + The slow-footed bearers of sorrow unseen? + + Nay, yet were they toiling if sorrow had worn them, + Or hushed had they bided with lips parched and wan. + The birds of the air other tidings have borne them— + How glad through the wood goeth man beside man. + + Then fare forth, O valiant, and loiter no longer + Than the cry of the cuckoo when May is at hand; + Late waxeth the spring-tide, and daylight grows longer, + And nightly the star-street hangs high o’er the land. + + Many lives, many days for the Dale do ye carry; + When the Host breaketh out from the thicket unshorn, + It shall be as the sun that refuseth to tarry + On the crown of all mornings, the Midsummer morn. + +Again the song fell down till they were well on the western way down +Silver-dale; and then Redesman handled his fiddle once more, and again +the song rose up, and such-like were the words which were borne back into +the Market-place of Silver-stead: + + And yet what is this, and why fare ye so slowly, + While our echoing halls of our voices are dumb, + And abideth unlitten the hearth-brand the holy, + And the feet of the kind fare afield till we come? + + For not yet through the wood and its tangle ye wander; + Now skirt we no thicket, no path by the mere; + Far aloof for our feet leads the Dale-road out yonder; + Full fair is the morning, its doings all clear. + + There is nought now our feet on the highway delaying + Save the friend’s loving-kindness, the sundering of speech; + The well-willer’s word that ends words with the saying, + The loth to depart while each looketh on each. + + Fare on then, for nought are ye laden with sorrow; + The love of this land do ye bear with you still. + In two Dales of the earth for to-day and to-morrow + Is waxing the oak-tree of peace and good-will. + +Thus then they departed from Silver-dale, even as men who were a portion +thereof, and had not utterly left it behind. And that night they lay in +the wild-wood not very far from the Dale’s end; for they went softly, +faring amongst so many friends. + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. TALK UPON THE WILD-WOOD WAY. + + +ON the morrow morning when they were on their way again Face-of-god left +his own folk to go with the House of the Steer a while; and amongst them +he fell in with the Sun-beam going along with Bow-may. So they greeted +him kindly, and Face-of-god fell into talk with the Sun-beam as they went +side by side through a great oak-wood, where for a space was plain +green-sward bare of all underwood. + +So in their talk he said to her: ‘What deemest thou, my speech-friend, +concerning our coming back to guest in Silver-dale one day?’ + +‘The way is long,’ she said. + +‘That may hinder us but not stay us,’ said Face-of-god. + +‘That is sooth,’ said the Sun-beam. + +Said Face-of-god: ‘What things shall stay us? Or deemest thou that we +shall never see Silver-dale again?’ + +She smiled: ‘Even so I think thou deemest, Gold-mane. But many things +shall hinder us besides the long road.’ + +Said he: ‘Yea, and what things?’ + +‘Thinkest thou,’ said the Sun-beam, ‘that the winning of Silver-stead is +the last battle which thou shalt see?’ + +‘Nay,’ said he, ‘nay.’ + +‘Shall thy Dale—our Dale—be free from all trouble within itself +henceforward? Is there a wall built round it to keep out for ever storm, +pestilence, and famine, and the waywardness of its own folk?’ + +‘So it is as thou sayest,’ quoth Face-of-god, ‘and to meet such troubles +and overcome them, or to die in strife with them, this is a great part of +a man’s life.’ + +‘Yea,’ she said, ‘and hast thou forgotten that thou art now a great +chieftain, and that the folk shall look to thee to use thee many days in +the year?’ + +He laughed and said: ‘So it is. How many days have gone by since I +wandered in the wood last autumn, that the world should have changed so +much!’ + +‘Many deeds shall now be in thy days,’ she said, ‘and each deed as the +corn of wheat from which cometh many corns; and a man’s days on the earth +are not over many.’ + +‘Then farewell, Silver-dale!’ said he, waving his hand toward the north. +‘War and trouble may bring me back to thee, but it maybe nought else +shall. Farewell!’ + +She looked on him fondly but unsmiling, as he went beside her strong and +warrior-like. Three paces from him went Bow-may, barefoot, in her white +kirtle, but bearing her bow in her hand; a leash of arrows was in her +girdle, her quiver hung at her back, and she was girt with a sword. On +the other side went Wood-wont and Wood-wise, lightly clad but weaponed. +Wood-mother was riding in an ox-wain just behind them, and Wood-father +went beside her bearing an axe. Scattered all about them were the men of +the Steer, gaily clad, bearing weapons, so that the oak-wood was bright +with them, and the glades merry with their talk and singing and laughter, +and before them down the glades went the banner of the Steer, and the +White Beast led them the nearest way to Burgdale. + + + + +CHAPTER LVII. HOW THE HOST CAME HOME AGAIN. + + +IT was fourteen days before they came to Rose-dale; for they had much +baggage with them, and they had no mind to weary themselves, and the wood +was nothing loathsome to them, whereas the weather was fair and bright +for the more part. They fell in with no mishap by the way. But a score +and three of runaways joined themselves to the Host, having watched their +goings and wotting that they were not foemen. Of these, some had heard +of the overthrow of the Dusky Men in Silver-dale, and others not. The +Burgdalers received them all, for it seemed to them no great matter for a +score or so of new-comers to the Dale. + +But when the Host was come to Rose-dale, they found it fair arid lovely; +and there they met with those of their folk who had gone with Dallach. +But Dallach welcomed the kindreds with great joy, and bade them abide; +for he said that they had the less need to hasten, since he had sent +messengers into Burgdale to tell men there of the tidings. Albeit they +were mostly loth to tarry; yet when he lay hard on them not to depart as +men on the morrow of a gild-feast, they abode there three days, and were +as well guested as might be, and on their departure they were laden with +gifts from the wealth of Rose-dale by Dallach and his folk. + +Before they went their ways Dallach spake with Face-of-god and the chiefs +of the Dalesmen, and said: + +‘Ye have given me much from the time when ye found me in the wood a naked +wastrel; yet now I would ask you a gift to lay on the top of all that ye +have given me.’ + +Said Face-of-god: ‘Name the gift, and thou shalt have it; for we deem +thee our friend.’ + +‘I am no less,’ said Dallach, ‘as in time to come I may perchance be able +to show you. But now I am asking you to suffer a score or two of your +men to abide here with me this summer, till I see how this folk new-born +again is like to deal with me. For pleasure and a fair life have become +so strange to them, that they scarce know what to do with them, or how to +live; and unless all is to go awry, I must needs command and forbid; and +though belike they love me, yet they fear me not; so that when my +commandment pleaseth them, they do as I bid, and when it pleaseth them +not, they do contrary to my bidding; for it hath got into their minds +that I shall in no case lift a hand against them, which indeed is the +very sooth. But your folk they fear as warriors of the world, who have +slain the Dusky Men in the Market-place of Silver-stead; and they are of +alien blood to them, men who will do as their friend biddeth (think our +folk) against them who are neither friends or foes. With such help I +shall be well holpen.’ + +In such wise spake Dallach; and Face-of-god and the chiefs said that so +it should be, if men could be found willing to abide in Rose-dale for a +while. And when the matter was put abroad, there was no lack of such men +amongst the younger warriors, who had noted that the dale was fair +amongst dales and its women fairer yet amongst women. + +So two score and ten of the Burgdale men abode in Rose-dale, no one of +whom was of more than twenty and five winters. Forsooth divers of them +set up house in Rose-dale, and never came back to Burgdale, save as +guests. For a half score were wedded in Rose-dale before the year’s +ending; and seven more, who had also taken to them wives of the goodliest +of the Rose-dale women, betook them the next spring to the Burg of the +Runaways, and there built them a stead, and drew a garth about it, and +dug and sowed the banks of the river, which they called Inglebourne. And +as years passed, this same stead throve exceedingly, and men resorted +thither both from Rose-dale and Burgdale; for it was a pleasant place; +and the land, when it was cured, was sweet and good, and the wood +thereabout was full of deer of all kinds. So their stead was called +Inglebourne after the stream; and in latter days it became a very goodly +habitation of men. + +Moreover, some of the once-enthralled folk of Rose-dale, when they knew +that men of their kindred from Silver-dale were going home with the men +of Burgdale to dwell in the Dale, prayed hard to go along with them; for +they looked on the Burgdalers as if they were new Gods of the Earth. The +Burgdale chiefs would not gainsay these men either, but took with them +three score and ten from Rose-dale, men and women, and promised them +dwelling and livelihood in Burgdale. + +So now with good hearts the Host of Burgdale turned their faces toward +their well-beloved Dale; and they made good diligence, so that in three +days’ time they were come anigh the edge of the woodland wilderness. +Thither in the even-tide, as they were making ready for their last supper +and bed in the wood, came three men and two women of their folk, who had +been abiding their coming ever since they had had the tidings of +Silver-dale and the battles from Dallach. Great was the joy of these +messengers as they went from company to company of the warriors, and saw +the familiar faces of their friends, and heard their wonted voices +telling all the story of battle and slaughter. And for their part the +men of the Host feasted these stay-at-homes, and made much of them. But +one of them, a man of the House of the Face, left the Host a little after +nightfall, and bore back to Burgstead at once the tidings of the coming +home of the Host. Albeit since Dallach’s tidings of victory had come to +the Dale, the dwellers in the steads of the country-side had left +Burgstead and gone home to their own houses; so that there was no great +multitude abiding in the Thorp. + +So early on the morrow was the Host astir; but ere they came to +Wildlake’s Way, the Shepherd-folk turned aside westward to go home, after +they had bidden farewell to their friends and fellows of the Dale; for +their souls longed for the sheepcotes in the winding valleys under the +long grey downs; and the garths where the last year’s ricks shouldered up +against the old stone gables, and where the daws were busy in the tall +unfrequent ash-trees; and the green flowery meadows adown along the +bright streams, where the crowfoot and the paigles were blooming now, and +the harebells were in flower about the thorn-bushes at the down’s foot, +whence went the savour of their blossom over sheep-walk and water-meadow. + +So these went their ways with many kind words; and two hours afterwards +all the rest of the Host stood on the level ground of the Portway; but +presently were the ranks of war disordered and broken up by the joy of +the women and children, as they fell to drawing goodman or brother or +lover out of the throng to the way that led speediest to their homesteads +and halls. For the War-leader would not hold the Host together any +longer, but suffered each man to go to his home, deeming that the men of +Burgstead, and chiefly they of the Face and the Steer, would suffice for +a company if any need were, and they would be easily gathered to meet any +hap. + +So now the men of the Middle and Lower Dale made for their houses by the +road and the lanes and the meadows, and the men of the Upper Dale and +Burgstead went their ways along the Portway toward their halls, with the +throng of women and children that had come out to meet them. And now men +came home when it was yet early, and the long day lay before them; and it +was, as it were, made giddy and cumbered with the exceeding joy of +return, and the thought of the day when the fear of death and sundering +had been ever in their hearts. For these new hours were full of the +kissing and embracing of lovers, and the sweetness of renewed delight in +beholding the fair bodies so sorely desired, and hearkening the soft +wheedling of longed-for voices. There were the cups of friends beneath +the chestnut trees, and the talk of the deeds of the fighting-men, and of +the heavy days of the home-abiders; many a tale told oft and o’er again. +There was the singing of old songs and of new, and the beholding the +well-loved nook of the pleasant places, which death might well have made +nought for them; and they were sweet with the fear of that which was +past, and in their pleasantness was fresh promise for the days to come. + +So amid their joyance came evening and nightfall; and though folk were +weary with the fulness of delight, yet now for many their weariness led +them to the chamber of love before the rest of deep night came to them to +make them strong for the happy life to be begun again on the morrow. + +House by house they feasted, and few were the lovers that sat not +together that even. But Face-of-god and the Sun-beam parted at the door +of the House of the Face; for needs must she go with her new folk to the +House of the Steer, and needs must Face-of-god be amongst his own folk in +that hour of high-tide, and sit beside his father beneath the image of +the God with the ray-begirt head. + + + + +CHAPTER LVIII. HOW THE MAIDEN WARD WAS HELD IN BURGDALE. + + +NOW May was well worn when the Host came home to Burgdale; and on the +very morrow of men’s home-coming they began to talk eagerly of the +Midsummer Weddings, and how the Maiden Ward would be the greatest and +fairest of all yet seen, whereas battle and the deliverance from battle +stir up the longing and love both of men and maidens; much also men spake +of the wedding of Face-of-god and the Sun-beam; and needs must their +wedding abide to the time of the Maiden Ward at Midsummer, and needs also +must the Sun-beam go on the Ward with the other Brides of the Folk. So +then must Face-of-god keep his soul in patience till those few days were +over, doing what work came to hand; and he held his head high among the +people, and was well looked to of every man. + +In all matters the Sun-beam helped him, both in doing and in forbearing; +and now so wonderful and rare was her beauty, that folk looked on her +with somewhat of fear, as though she came from the very folk of the Gods. + +Indeed she seemed somewhat changed from what she had been of late; she +was sober of demeanour during these last days of her maidenhood, and sat +amongst the kindred as one communing with herself: of few words she was +and little laughter; but her face clear, not overcast by any gloom or +shaken by passion: soft and kind was she in converse with others, and +sweet were the smiles that came into her face if others’ faces seemed to +crave for them. For it must be said that as some folk eat out their +hearts with fear of the coming evils, even so was she feeding her soul +with the joy of the days to be, whatever trouble might fall upon them, +whereof belike she foreboded some. + +So wore the days toward Midsummer, when the wheat was getting past the +blossoming, and the grass in the mown fields was growing deep green again +after the shearing of the scythe; when the leaves were most and biggest; +when the roses were beginning to fall; when the apples were reddening, +and the skins of the grape-berries gathering bloom. High aloft floated +the light clouds over the Dale; deep blue showed the distant fells below +the ice-mountains; the waters dwindled; all things sought the shadow by +daytime, and the twilight of even and the twilight of dawn were but +sundered by three hours of half-dark night. + +So in the bright forenoon were seventeen brides assembled in the Gate of +Burgstead (but of the rest of the Dale were twenty and three looked for), +and with these was the Sun-beam, her face as calm as the mountain lake +under a summer sunset, while of the others many were restless, and +babbling like April throstles; and not a few talked to her eagerly, and +in their restless love of her dragged her about hither and thither. + +No men were to be seen that morning; for such was the custom, that the +carles either departed to the fields and the acres, or abode within doors +on the morn of the day of the Maiden Ward; but there was a throng of +women about the Gate and down the street of Burgstead, and it may well be +deemed that they kept not silence that hour. + +So fared the Brides of Burgstead to the place of the Maiden Ward on the +causeway, whereto were come already the other brides from steads up and +down the Dale, or were even then close at hand on the way; and among them +were Long-coat and her two fellows, with whom Face-of-god had held +converse on that morning whereon he had followed his fate to the +Mountain. + +There then were they gathered under the cliff-wall of the Portway; and by +the road-side had their grooms built them up bowers of green boughs to +shelter them from the sun’s burning, which were thatched with bulrushes, +and decked with garlands of the fairest flowers of the meadows and the +gardens. + +Forsooth they were a lovely sight to look on, for no fairer women might +be seen in the world; and the eldest of them was scant of five and twenty +winters. Every maiden was clad in as goodly raiment as she might +compass; their sleeves and gown-hems and girdles, yea, their very shoes +and sandals were embroidered so fairly and closely, that as they shifted +in the sun they changed colour like the king-fisher shooting from shadow +to sunshine. According to due custom every maiden bore some weapon. A +few had bows in their hands and quivers at their backs; some had nought +but a sword girt to their sides; some bore slender-shafted spears, so as +not to overburden their shapely hands; but to some it seemed a merry game +to carry long and heavy thrust-spears, or to bear great war-axes over +their shoulders. Most had their flowing hair coifed with bright helms; +some had burdened their arms with shields; some bore steel hauberks over +their linen smocks: almost all had some piece of war-gear on their +bodies; and one, to wit, Steed-linden of the Sickle, a tall and fair +damsel, was so arrayed that no garment could be seen on her but bright +steel war-gear. + +As for the Sun-beam, she was clad in a white kirtle embroidered from +throat to hem with work of green boughs and flowers of the goodliest +fashion, and a garland of roses on her head. Dale-warden himself was +girt to her side by a girdle fair-wrought of golden wire, and she bore no +other weapon or war-gear; and she let him lie quiet in his scabbard, nor +touched the hilts once; whereas some of the other damsels would be ever +drawing their swords out and thrusting them back. But all noted that +goodly weapon, the yoke-fellow of so many great deeds. + +There then on the Portway, between the water and the rock-wall, rose up +plenteous and gleeful talk of clear voices shrill and soft; and whiles +the maidens sang, and whiles they told tales of old days, and whiles they +joined hands and danced together on the sweet summer dust of the highway. +Then they mostly grew aweary, and sat down on the banks of the road or +under their leafy bowers. + +Noon came, and therewithal goodwives of the neighbouring Dale, who +brought them meat and drink, and fruit and fresh flowers from the teeming +gardens; and thereafter for a while they nursed their joy in their +bosoms, and spake but little and softly while the day was at its hottest +in the early afternoon. + +Then came out of Burgstead men making semblance of chapmen with a wain +bearing wares, and they made as though they were wending down the Portway +westward to go out of the Dale. Then arose the weaponed maidens and +barred the way to them, and turned them back amidst fresh-springing +merriment. + +Again in a while, when the sun was westering and the shadows growing +long, came herdsmen from down the Dale driving neat, and making as though +they would pass by into Burgstead, but to them also did the maidens +gainsay the road, so that needs must they turn back amidst laughter and +mockery, they themselves also laughing and mocking. + +And so at last, when the maidens had been all alone a while, and it was +now hard on sunset, they drew together and stood in a ring, and fell to +singing; and one Gold-may of the House of the Bridge, a most sweet +singer, stood amidst their ring and led them. And this is somewhat of +the meaning of their words: + + The sun will not tarry; now changeth the light, + Fail the colours that marry the Day to the Night. + + Amid the sun’s burning bright weapons we bore, + For this eve of our earning comes once and no more. + + For to-day hath no brother in yesterday’s tide, + And to-morrow no other alike it doth hide. + + This day is the token of oath and behest + That ne’er shall be broken through ill days and best. + + Here the troth hath been given, the oath hath been done, + To the Folk that hath thriven well under the sun. + + And the gifts of its giving our troth-day shall win + Are the Dale for our living and dear days therein. + + O Sun, now thou wanest! yet come back and see + Amidst all that thou gainest how gainful are we. + + O witness of sorrow wide over the earth, + Rise up on the morrow to look on our mirth! + + Thy blooms art thou bringing back ever for men, + And thy birds are a-singing each summer again. + + But to men little-hearted what winter is worse + Than thy summers departed that bore them the curse? + + And e’en such art thou knowing where thriveth the year, + And good is all growing save thralldom and fear. + + Nought such be our lovers’ hearts drawing anigh, + While yet thy light hovers aloft in the sky. + + Lo the seeker, the finder of Death in the Blade! + What lips shall be kinder on lips of mine laid? + + La he that hath driven back tribes of the South! + Sweet-breathed is thine even, but sweeter his mouth. + + Come back from the sea then, O sun! come aback, + Look adown, look on me then, and ask what I lack! + + Come many a morrow to gaze on the Dale, + And if e’er thou seest sorrow remember its tale! + + For ’twill be of a story to tell how men died + In the garnering of glory that no man may hide. + + O sun sinking under! O fragrance of earth! + O heart! O the wonder whence longing has birth! + +So they sang, and the sun sank indeed; and amidst their singing the eve +was still about them, though there came a happy murmur from the face of +the meadows and the houses of the Thorp aloof. But as their song fell +they heard the sound of footsteps a many on the road; so they turned and +stood with beating hearts in such order as when a band of the valiant +draw together to meet many foes coming on them from all sides, and they +stand back to back to face all comers. And even therewith, their raiment +gleaming amidst the gathering dusk, came on them the young men of the +Dale newly delivered from the grief of war. + +Then in very deed the fierce mouths of the raisers of the war-shout were +kind on the faces of tender maidens. Then went spear and axe and helm +and shield clattering to the earth, as the arms of the new-comers went +round about the bodies of the Brides, weary with the long day of +sunshine, and glee and loving speech, and the maidens suffered the young +men to lead them whither they would, and twilight began to draw round +about them as the Maiden Band was sundered. + +Some, they were led away westward down the Portway to the homesteads +thereabout; and for divers of these the way was long to their halls, and +they would have to wend over long stretches of dewy meadows, and hear the +night-wind whisper in many a tree, and see the east begin to lighten with +the dawn before they came to the lighted feast that awaited them. But +some turned up the Portway straight towards Burgstead; and short was +their road to the halls where even now the lights were being kindled for +their greeting. + +As for the Sun-beam, she had been very quiet the day long, speaking as +little as she might do, laughing not at all, and smiling for kindness’ +sake rather than for merriment; and when the grooms came seeking their +maidens, she withdrew herself from the band, and stood alone amidst the +road nigher to Burgstead than they; and her heart beat hard, and her +breath came short and quick, as though fear had caught her in its grip; +and indeed for one moment of time she feared that he was not coming to +her. For he had gone with the other grooms to that gathered band, and +had passed from one to the other, not finding her, till he had got him +through the whole company, and beheld her awaiting him. Then indeed he +bounded toward her, and caught her by the hands, and then by the +shoulders, and drew her to him, and she nothing loth; and in that while +he said to her: + +‘Come then, my friend; lo thou! they go each their own way toward the +halls of their houses; and for thee have I chosen a way—a way over the +foot-bridge yonder, and over the dewy meadows on this best even of the +year.’ + +‘Nay, nay,’ she said, ‘it may not be. Surely the Burgstead grooms look +to thee to lead them to the gate; and surely in the House of the Face +they look to see thee before any other. Nay, Gold-mane, my dear, we must +needs go by the Portway.’ + +He said: ‘We shall be home but a very little while after the first, for +the way I tell of is as short as the Portway. But hearken, my sweet! +When we are in the meadows we shall sit down for a minute on a bank under +the chestnut trees, and thence watch the moon coming up over the southern +cliffs. And I shall behold thee in the summer night, and deem that I see +all thy beauty; which yet shall make me dumb with wonder when I see it +indeed in the house amongst the candles.’ + +‘O nay,’ she said, ‘by the Portway shall we go; the torch-bearers shall +be abiding thee at the gate.’ + +Spake Face-of-god: ‘Then shall we rise up and wend first through a wide +treeless meadow, wherein amidst the night we shall behold the kine moving +about like odorous shadows; and through the greyness of the moonlight +thou shalt deem that thou seest the pink colour of the eglantine +blossoms, so fragrant they are.’ + +‘O nay,’ she said, ‘but it is meet that we go by the Portway.’ + +But he said: ‘Then from the wide meadow come we into a close of corn, and +then into an orchard-close beyond it. There in the ancient walnut-tree +the owl sitteth breathing hard in the night-time; but thou shalt not hear +him for the joy of the nightingales singing from the apple-trees of the +close. Then from out of the shadowed orchard shall we come into the open +town-meadow, and over its daisies shall the moonlight be lying in a grey +flood of brightness. + +‘Short is the way across it to the brim of the Weltering Water, and +across the water lieth the fair garden of the Face; and I have dight for +thee there a little boat to waft us across the night-dark waters, that +shall be like wavering flames of white fire where the moon smites them, +and like the void of all things where the shadows hang over them. There +then shall we be in the garden, beholding how the hall-windows are +yellow, and hearkening the sound of the hall-glee borne across the +flowers and blending with the voice of the nightingales in the trees. +There then shall we go along the grass paths whereby the pinks and the +cloves and the lavender are sending forth their fragrance, to cheer us, +who faint at the scent of the over-worn roses, and the honey-sweetness of +the lilies. + +‘All this is for thee, and for nought but for thee this even; and many a +blossom whereof thou knowest nought shall grieve if thy foot tread not +thereby to-night; if the path of thy wedding which I have made, be void +of thee, on the even of the Chamber of Love. + +‘But lo! at last at the garden’s end is the yew-walk arched over for +thee, and thou canst not see whereby to enter it; but I, I know it, and I +lead thee into and along the dark tunnel through the moonlight, and thine +hand is not weary of mine as we go. But at the end shall we come to a +wicket, which shall bring us out by the gable-end of the Hall of the +Face. Turn we about its corner then, and there are we blinking on the +torches of the torch-bearers, and the candles through the open door, and +the hall ablaze with light and full of joyous clamour, like the bale-fire +in the dark night kindled on a ness above the sea by fisher-folk +remembering the Gods.’ + +‘O nay,’ she said, ‘but by the Portway must we go; the straightest way to +the Gate of Burgstead.’ + +In vain she spake, and knew not what she said; for even as he was +speaking he led her away, and her feet went as her will went, rather than +her words; and even as she said that last word she set her foot on the +first board of the foot-bridge; and she turned aback one moment, and saw +the long line of the rock-wall yet glowing with the last of the sunset of +midsummer, while as she turned again, lo! before her the moon just +beginning to lift himself above the edge of the southern cliffs, and +betwixt her and him all Burgdale, and Face-of-god moreover. + +Thus then they crossed the bridge into the green meadows, and through the +closes and into the garden of the Face and unto the Hall-door; and other +brides and grooms were there before them (for six grooms had brought home +brides to the House of the Face); but none deemed it amiss in the +War-leader of the folk and the love that had led him. And old Stone-face +said: ‘Too many are the rows of bee-skeps in the gardens of the Dale that +we should begrudge wayward lovers an hour’s waste of candle-light.’ + +So at last those twain went up the sun-bright Hall hand in hand in all +their loveliness, and up on to the daïs, and stood together by the middle +seat; and the tumult of the joy of the kindred was hushed for a while as +they saw that there was speech in the mouth of the War-leader. + +Then he spread his hands abroad before them all and cried out: ‘How then +have I kept mine oath, whereas I swore on the Holy Boar to wed the +fairest woman of the world?’ + +A mighty shout went rattling about the timbers of the roof in answer to +his word; and they that looked up to the gable of the Hall said that they +saw the ray-ringed image of the God smile with joy over the gathered +folk. + +But spake Iron-face unheard amidst the clamour of the Hall: ‘How fares it +now with my darling and my daughter, who dwelleth amongst strangers in +the land beyond the wild-wood?’ + + + + +CHAPTER LIX. THE BEHEST OF FACE-OF-GOD TO THE BRIDE ACCOMPLISHED: A +MOTE-STEAD APPOINTED FOR THE THREE FOLKS, TO WIT, THE MEN OF BURGDALE, +THE SHEPHERDS, AND THE CHILDREN OF THE WOLF. + + +THREE years and two months thereafter, three hours after noon in the days +of early autumn, came a wain tilted over with precious webs of cloth, and +drawn by eight white oxen, into the Market-place of Silver-stead: two +score and ten of spearmen of the tallest, clad in goodly war-gear, went +beside it, and much people of Silver-dale thronged about them. The wain +stayed at the foot of the stair that led up to the door of the +Mote-house, and there lighted down therefrom a woman goodly of fashion, +with wide grey eyes, and face and hands brown with the sun’s burning. +She had a helm on her head and a sword girt to her side, and in her arms +she bore a yearling child. + +And there was come Bow-may with the second man-child born to Face-of-god. + +She stayed not amidst the wondering folk, but hastened up the stair, +which she had once seen running with the blood of men: the door was open, +and she went in and walked straight-way, with the babe in her arms, up +the great Hall to the daïs. + +There were men on the daïs: amidmost sat Folk-might, little changed since +the last day she had seen him, yet fairer, she deemed, than of old time; +and her heart went forth to meet the Chieftain of her Folk, and the glad +tears started in her eyes and ran down her cheeks as she drew near to +him. + +By his side sat the Bride, and her also Bow-may deemed to have waxed +goodlier. Both she and Folk-might knew Bow-may ere she had gone half the +length of the hall; and the Bride rose up in her place and cried out +Bow-may’s name joyously. + +With these were sitting the elders of the Wolf and the Woodlanders, the +more part of whom Bow-may knew well. + +On the daïs also stood aside a score of men weaponed, and looking as if +they were awaiting the word which should send them forth on some errand. + +Now stood up Folk-might and said: ‘Fair greeting and love to my friend +and the daughter of my Folk! How farest thou, Bow-may, best of all +friendly women? How fareth my sister, and Face-of-god my brother? and +how is it with our friends and helpers in the goodly Dale?’ + +Said Bow-may: ‘It is well both with all those and with me; and my heart +laughs to see thee, Folk-might, and to look on the elders of the valiant, +and our lovely sister the Bride. But I have a message for thee from +Face-of-god: wilt thou that I deliver it here?’ + +‘Yea surely,’ said Folk-might, and came forth and took her hand, and +kissed her cheeks and her mouth. The Bride also came forth and cast her +arms about her, and kissed her; and they led her between them to a seat +on the daïs beside Folk-might. + +But all men looked on the child in her arms and wondered what it was. +But Bow-may took the babe, which was both fair and great, and set it on +the knees of the Bride, and said: + +‘Thus saith Face-of-god: “Friend and kinswoman, well-beloved playmate, +the gift which thou badest of me in sorrow do thou now take in joy, and +do all the good thou wouldest to the son of thy friend. The ring which I +gave thee once in the garden of the Face, give thou to Bow-may, my trusty +and well-beloved, in token of the fulfilment of my behest.”’ + +Then the Bride kissed Bow-may again, and fell to fondling of the child, +which was loth to leave Bow-may. + +But she spake again: ‘To thee also, Folk-might, I have a message from +Face-of-god, who saith: “Mighty warrior, friend and fellow, all things +thrive with us, and we are happy. Yet is there a hollow place in our +hearts which grieveth us, and only thou and thine may amend it. Though +whiles we hear tell of thee, yet we see thee not, and fain were we, might +we see thee, and wot if the said tales be true. Wilt thou help us +somewhat herein, or wilt thou leave us all the labour? For sure we be +that thou wilt not say that thou rememberest us no more, and that thy +love for us is departed.” This is his message, Folk-might, and he would +have an answer from thee.’ + +Then laughed Folk-might and said: ‘Sister Bow-may, seest thou these +weaponed men hereby?’ + +‘Yea,’ she said. + +Said he: ‘These men bear a message with them to Face-of-god my brother. +Crow the Shaft-speeder, stand forth and tell thy friend Bow-may the +message I have set in thy mouth, every word of it.’ + +Then Crow stood forth and greeted Bow-may friendly, and said: ‘Friend +Bow-may, this is the message of our Alderman: “Friend and helper, in the +Dale which thou hast given to us do all things thrive; neither are we +grown old in three years’ wearing, nor are our memories worsened. We +long sore to see you and give you guesting in Silver-dale, and one day +that shall befall. Meanwhile, know this: that we of the Wolf and the +Woodland, mindful of the earth that bore us, and the pit whence we were +digged, have a mind to go see Shadowy Vale once in every three years, and +there to hold high-tide in the ancient Hall of the Wolf, and sit in the +Doom-ring of our Fathers. But since ye have joined yourselves to us in +battle, and have given us this Dale, our health and wealth, without price +and without reward, we deem you our very brethren, and small shall be our +hall-glee, and barren shall our Doom-ring seem to us, unless ye sit there +beside us. Come then, that we may rejoice each other by the sight of +face and sound of voice; that we may speak together of matters that +concern our welfare; so that we three Kindreds may become one Folk. And +if this seem good to you, know that we shall be in Shadowy Vale in a +half-month’s wearing. Grieve us not by forbearing to come.” Lo, +Bow-may, this is the message, and I have learned it well, for well it +pleaseth me to bear it.’ + +Then said Folk-might: ‘What say’st thou to the message, Bow-may?’ + +‘It is good in all ways,’ said she, ‘but is it timely? May our folk have +the message and get to Shadowy Vale, so as to meet you there?’ + +‘Yea surely,’ said Folk-might, ‘for our kinsmen here shall take the road +through Shadowy Vale, and in four days’ time they shall be in Burgdale, +and as thou wottest, it is scant a two days’ journey thence to Shadowy +Vale.’ + +Therewith he turned to those men again, and said: ‘Kinsman Crow, depart +now, and use all diligence with thy message.’ + +So the messengers began to stir; but Bow-may cried out: ‘Ho! Folk-might, +my friend, I perceive thou art little changed from the man I knew in +Shadowy Vale, who would have his dinner before the fowl were plucked. +For shall I not go back with these thy messengers, so that I also may get +all ready to wend to the Mote-house of Shadowy Vale?’ + +But the Bride looked kindly on her, and laughed and said: ‘Sister +Bow-may, his meaning is that thou shouldest abide here in Silver-dale +till we depart for the Folk-thing, and then go thither with us; and this +I also pray thee to do, that thou mayst rejoice the hearts of thine old +friends; and also that thou mayst teach me all that I should know +concerning this fair child of my brother and my sister.’ + +And she looked on her so kindly as she caressed the babe, that Bow-may’s +heart melted, and she cried out: + +‘Would that I might never depart from the house wherein thou dwellest, O +Bride of my Kinsman! And this that thou biddest me is easy and pleasant +for me to do. But afterwards I must get me back to Burgdale; for I seem +to have left much there that calleth for me.’ + +‘Yea,’ said Folk-might, ‘and art thou wedded, Bow-may? Shalt thou never +bend the yew in battle again?’ + +Said Bow-may soberly: ‘Who knoweth, chieftain? Yea, I am wedded now +these two years; and nought I looked for less when I followed those twain +through the wild-wood to Burgdale.’ + +She sighed therewith, and said: ‘In all the Dale there is no better man +of his hands than my man, nor any goodlier to look on, and he is even +that Hart of Highcliff whom thou knowest well, O Bride!’ + +Said the Bride: ‘Thou sayest sooth, there is no better man in the Dale.’ + +Said Bow-may: ‘Sun-beam bade me wed him when he pressed hard upon me.’ +She stayed awhile, and then said: ‘Face-of-god also deemed I should not +naysay the man; and now my son by him is of like age to this little one.’ + +‘Good is thy story,’ said Folk-might; ‘or deemest thou, Bow-may, that +such strong and goodly women as thou, and women so kind and friendly, +should forbear the wedding and the bringing forth of children? Yea, and +we who may even yet have to gather to another field before we die, and +fight for life and the goods of life.’ + +‘Thou sayest well,’ she said; ‘all that hath befallen me is good since +the day whereon I loosed shaft from the break of the bent over yonder.’ + +Therewith she fell a-musing, and made as though she were hearkening to +the soft voice of the Bride caressing the new-come baby; but in sooth +neither heard nor saw what was going on about her, for her thoughts were +in bygone days. Howbeit presently she came to herself again, and fell to +asking many questions concerning Silver-dale and the kindred, and those +who had once been thralls of the Dusky Men; and they answered all duly, +and told her the whole story of the Dale since the Day of the Victory. + +So Bow-may and the carles who had come with her abode for that half-month +in Silver-dale, guested in all love by the folk thereof, both the +kindreds and the poor folk. And Bow-may deemed that the Bride loved +Face-of-god’s child little less than her own, whereof she had two, a man +and a woman; and thereat was she full of joy, since she knew that +Face-of-god and the Sun-beam would be fain thereof. + +Thereafter, when the time was come, fared Folk-might and the Bride, and +many of the elders and warriors of the Wolf and the Woodland, to Shadowy +Vale; and Dallach and the best of Rose-dale went with them, being so +bidden; and Bow-may and her following, according to the word of the +Bride. And in Shadowy Vale they met Face-of-god and Alderman Iron-face, +and the chiefs of Burgdale and the Shepherds, and many others; and great +joy there was at the meeting. And the Sun-beam remembered the word which +she spoke to Face-of-god when first he came to Shadowy Vale, that she +would be wishful to see again the dwelling wherein she had passed through +so much joy and sorrow of her younger days. But if anyone were fain of +this meeting, the Alderman was glad above all, when he took the Bride +once more in his arms, and caressed her whom he had deemed should be a +very daughter of his House. + +Now telleth the tale of all these kindreds, to wit, the Men of Burgdale +and the Sheepcotes; and the Children of the Wolf, and the Woodlanders, +and the Men of Rose-dale, that they were friends henceforth, and became +as one Folk, for better or worse, in peace and in war, in waning and +waxing; and that whatsoever befell them, they ever held Shadowy Vale a +holy place, and for long and long after they met there in mid-autumn, and +held converse and counsel together. + +NO MORE AS NOW TELLETH THE TALE OF THESE KINDREDS AND FOLKS, BUT MAKETH +AN ENDING. + + * * * * * + + CHISWICK PRESS:—C. 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