The House of the Wolfings

by William Morris

  CHAPTER XXXI--OLD ASMUND SPEAKETH OVER THE WAR-DUKES: THE DEAD ARE LAIDIN MOUND

  Now while all looked on, he went to the place where lay the bodies of theWar-dukes, and looked down on the face of Otter and said:

  "O Otter, there thou liest! and thou that I knew of old, When my beard began to whiten, as the best of the keen and the bold, And thou wert as my youngest brother, and thou didst lead my sons When we fared forth over the mountains to meet the arrowy Huns, And I smiled to see thee teaching the lore that I learned thee erst. O Otter, dost thou remember how the Goth-folk came by the worst, And with thee in mine arms I waded the wide shaft-harrowed flood That lapped the feet of the mountains with its water blent with blood; And how in the hollow places of the mountains hidden away We abode the kindreds' coming as the wet night bideth day? Dost thou remember, Otter, how many a joy we had, How many a grief remembered has made our high-tide glad? O fellow of the hall-glee! O fellow of the field! Why then hast thou departed and left me under shield? I the ancient, I the childless, while yet in the Laxing hall Are thy brother's sons abiding and their children on thee call.

  "O kindreds of the people! the soul that dwelt herein, This goodly way-worn body, was keen for you to win Good days and long endurance. Who knoweth of his deed What things for you it hath fashioned from the flame of the fire of need? But of this at least well wot we, that forth from your hearts it came And back to your hearts returneth for the seed of thriving and fame. In the ground wherein ye lay it, the body of this man, No deed of his abideth, no glory that he wan, But evermore the Markmen shall bear his deeds o'er earth, With the joy of the deeds that are coming, the garland of his worth."

  He was silent a little as he stood looking down on Otter's face withgrievous sorrow, for all that his words were stout. For indeed, as hehad said, Otter had been his battle-fellow and his hall-fellow, though hewas much younger than Asmund; and they had been standing foot to foot inthat battle wherein old Asmund's sons were slain by his side.

  After a while he turned slowly from looking at Otter to gaze uponThiodolf, and his body trembled as he looked, and he opened his mouth tospeak; but no word came from it; and he sat down upon the edge of thebier, and the tears began to gush out of his old eyes, and he wept aloud.Then they that saw him wondered; for all knew the stoutness of his heart,and how he had borne more burdens than that of eld, and had not cowereddown under them. But at last he arose again, and stood firmly on hisfeet, and faced the folk-mote, and in a voice more like the voice of aman in his prime than of an old man, he sang:

  "Wild the storm is abroad Of the edge of the sword! Far on runneth the path Of the war-stride of wrath! The Gods hearken and hear The long rumour of fear From the meadows beneath Running fierce o'er the heath, Till it beats round their dwelling-place builded aloof And at last all up-swelling breaks wild o'er their roof, And quencheth their laughter and crieth on all, As it rolleth round rafter and beam of the Hall, Like the speech of the thunder-cloud tangled on high, When the mountain-halls sunder as dread goeth by.

  "So they throw the door wide Of the Hall where they bide, And to murmuring song Turns that voice of the wrong, And the Gods wait a-gaze For that Wearer of Ways: For they know he hath gone A long journey alone. Now his feet are they hearkening, and now is he come, With his battle-wounds darkening the door of his home, Unbyrnied, unshielded, and lonely he stands, And the sword that he wielded is gone from his hands-- Hands outstretched and bearing no spoil of the fight, As speechless, unfearing, he stands in their sight.

  "War-father gleams Where the white light streams Round kings of old All red with gold, And the Gods of the name With joy aflame. All the ancient of men Grown glorious again: Till the Slains-father crieth aloud at the last: 'Here is one that belieth no hope of the past! No weapon, no treasure of earth doth he bear, No gift for the pleasure of Godhome to share; But life his hand bringeth, well cherished, most sweet; And hark! the Hall singeth the Folk-wolf to greet!'

  "As the rain of May On earth's happiest day, So the fair flowers fall On the sun-bright Hall As the Gods rise up With the greeting-cup, And the welcoming crowd Falls to murmur aloud. Then the God of Earth speaketh; sweet-worded he saith, 'Lo, the Sun ever seeketh Life fashioned of death; And to-day as he turneth the wide world about On Wolf-stead he yearneth; for there without doubt Dwells the death-fashioned story, the flower of all fame. Come hither new Glory, come Crown of the Name!'"

  All men's hearts rose high as he sang, and when he had ended arose theclang of sword and shield and went ringing down the meadow, and themighty shout of the Markmen's joy rent the heavens: for in sooth at thatmoment they saw Thiodolf, their champion, sitting among the Gods on hisgolden chair, sweet savours around him, and sweet sound of singing, andhe himself bright-faced and merry as no man on earth had seen him, for asjoyous a man as he was.

  But when the sound of their exultation sank down, the Hall-Sun spakeagain:

  "Now wendeth the sun westward, and weary grows the Earth Of all the long day's doings in sorrow and in mirth; And as the great sun waneth, so doth my candle wane, And its flickering flame desireth to rest and die again. Therefore across the meadows wend we aback once more To the holy Roof of the Wolfings, the shrine of peace and war. And these that once have loved us, these warriors images, Shall sit amidst our feasting, and see, as the Father sees The works that men-folk fashion and the rest of toiling hands, When his eyes look down from the mountains and the heavens above all lands, And up from the flowery meadows and the rolling deeps of the sea. There then at the feast with our champions familiar shall we be As oft we are with the Godfolk, when in story-rhymes and lays We laugh as we tell of their laughter, and their deeds of other days.

  "Come then, ye sons of the kindreds who hither bore these twain! Take up their beds of glory, and fare we home again, And feast as men delivered from toil unmeet to bear, Who through the night are looking to the dawn-tide fresh and fair And the morn and the noon to follow, and the eve and its morrow morn, All the life of our deliv'rance and the fair days yet unborn."

  So she spoke, and a murmur arose as those valiant men came forth again.But lo, now were they dight in fresh and fair raiment and gleaming war-array. For while all this was a-doing and a-saying, they had gotten themby the Hall-Sun's bidding unto the wains of their Houses, and had arrayedthem from the store therein.

  So now they took up the biers, and the Hall-Sun led them, and they wentover the meadow before the throng of the kindreds, who followed them dulyordered, each House about its banner; and when they were come through thegarth which the Romans had made to the Man's-door of the Hall, there werethe women of the House freshly attired, who cast flowers on the livingmen of the host, and on the dead War-dukes, while they wept for pity ofthem. So went the freemen of the Houses into the Hall, following theHall-Sun, and the bearers of the War-dukes; but the banners abode withoutin the garth made by the Romans; and the thralls arrayed a feast forthemselves about the wains of the kindreds in the open place before theircots and the smithying booths and the byres.

  And as the Hall-Sun went into the Hall, she thrust down the candleagainst the threshold of the Man's-door, and so quenched it.

  Long were the kindreds entering, and when they were under the Roof of theWolfings, they looked and beheld Thiodolf set in his chair once more, andOtter set beside him; and the chiefs and leaders of the House took theirplaces on the dais, those to whom it was due, and the Hall-Sun sat underthe wondrous Lamp her namesake.

  Now was the glooming falling upon the earth; but the Hall was brightwithin even as the Hall-Sun had promised. Therein was set forth theTreasure of the Wolfings; fair cloths were hung on the walls, goodlybroidered garments on the pillars: goodly brazen cauldrons andfair-carven chests were set do
wn in nooks where men could see them well,and vessels of gold and silver were set all up and down the tables of thefeast. The pillars also were wreathed with flowers, and flowers hunggarlanded from the walls over the precious hangings; sweet gums andspices were burning in fair-wrought censers of brass, and so many candleswere alight under the Roof, that scarce had it looked more ablaze whenthe Romans had litten the faggots therein for its burning amidst thehurry of the Morning Battle.

  There then they fell to feasting, hallowing in the high-tide of theirreturn with victory in their hands: and the dead corpses of Thiodolf andOtter, clad in precious glistering raiment, looked down on them from theHigh-seat, and the kindreds worshipped them and were glad; and they drankthe Cup to them before any others, were they Gods or men.

  But before the feast was hallowed in, came Ali the son of Grey up to theHigh-seat, bearing something in his hand: and lo! it was Throng-plough,which he had sought all over the field where the Markmen had beenovercome by the Romans, and had found it at last. All men saw him how heheld it in his hand now as he went up to the Hall-Sun and spake to her.But she kissed the lad on the forehead, and took Throng-plough, and woundthe peace-strings round him and laid him on the board before Thiodolf;and then she spake softly as if to herself, yet so that some heard her:

  "O father, no more shalt thou draw Throng-plough from the sheath till thebattle is pitched in the last field of fight, and the sons of thefruitful Earth and the sons of Day meet Swart and his children at last,when the change of the World is at hand. Maybe I shall be with theethen: but now and in meanwhile, farewell, O mighty hand of my father!"

  Thus then the Houses of the Mark held their High-tide of Returning underthe Wolfing Roof with none to blame them or make them afraid: and themoon rose and the summer night wore on towards dawn, and within the Roofand without was there feasting and singing and harping and the voice ofabundant joyance: for without the Roof feasted the thralls and thestrangers, and the Roman war-captives.

  But on the morrow the kindreds laid their dead men in mound betwixt theGreat Roof and the Wild-wood. In one mound they laid them with the War-dukes in their midst, and Arinbiorn by Otter's right side; and Thiodolfbore Throng-plough to mound with him.

  But a little way from the mound of their own dead, toward the south theylaid the Romans, a great company, with their Captain in the midst: andthey heaped a long mound over them not right high; so that as years wore,and the feet of men and beasts trod it down, it seemed a mere swelling ofthe earth not made by men's hands; and belike men knew not how many bonesof valiant men lay beneath; yet it had a name which endured for long, towit, the Battle-toft.

  But the mound whereunder the Markmen were laid was called Thiodolf's Howefor many generations of men, and many are the tales told of him; for menwere loth to lose him and forget him: and in the latter days men deemedof him that he sits in that Howe not dead but sleeping, withThrong-plough laid before him on the board; and that when the sons of theGoths are at their sorest need and the falcons cease to sit on the ridgeof the Great Roof of the Wolfings, he will wake and come forth from theHowe for their helping. But none have dared to break open that Howe andbehold what is therein.

  But that swelling of the meadow where the Goths had their overthrow atthe hands of the Romans, and Thiodolf fell to earth unwounded, got a namealso, and was called the Swooning Knowe; and it kept that name long aftermen had forgotten wherefore it was so called.

  Now when all this was done, and the warriors of the kindreds weredeparted each to his own stead, the Wolfings gathered in wheat-harvest,and set themselves to make good all that the Romans had undone; and theycleansed and mended their Great Roof and made it fairer than before, andtook from it all signs of the burning, save that they left the charringand marks of the flames on one tie-beam, the second from the dais, for atoken of the past tidings. Also when Harvest was over the Wolfings, theBeamings, the Galtings, and the Elkings, set to work with the Bearings torebuild their Great Roof and the other dwellings and booths which theRomans had burned; and right fair was that house.

  But the Wolfings throve in field and fold, and they begat children whogrew up to be mighty men and deft of hand, and the House grew moreglorious year by year.

  The tale tells not that the Romans ever fell on the Mark again; for aboutthis time they began to stay the spreading of their dominion, or even todraw in its boundaries somewhat.

  AND THIS IS ALL THAT THE TALE HAS TO TELL CONCERNING THE HOUSE OF THEWOLFINGS AND THE KINDREDS OF THE MARK.

  FOOTNOTES

  {1} Welsh with these men means Foreign, and is used for all people ofEurope who are not of Gothic or Teutonic blood.

  {2} i.e. Foreigners: see note {1}