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) 📗

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 p. 309live 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 p. 310falling 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 p. 311hastened 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 p. 312and 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 p. 313with 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;
p. 314Dear 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,