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) 📗

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 p. 284into 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 p. 285the 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.

p. 286Yea, 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.

p. 287Then 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 p. 288to 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:

p. 289‘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: p. 290‘Alderman, and Lord of the Folk!’  But therewithal Bristle, pulled him back, and said:

‘I