The Roots of the Mountains<br />Wherein Is Told Somewhat of the Lives of the Men of Burgdale, Their by William Morris (best sales books of all time .txt) 📗

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;
p. 137Dark 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.

p. 138They 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 p. 139to 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 p. 140between 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.

p. 141CHAPTER 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 p. 142each 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