CHAPTER VI. OF FACE-OF-GOD AND THOSE MOUNTAIN-DWELLERS.
A YARD or two from the threshold Gold-mane hung back a moment, entangledin some such misgiving as a man is wont to feel when he is just about todo some new deed, but is not yet deep in the story; his new friends notedthat, for they smiled each in their own way, and the woman drew her handaway from his. Face-of-god held out his still as though to take hersagain, and therewithal he changed countenance and said as though he hadstayed but to ask that question:
‘Tell me thy name, tall man; and thou, fair woman, tell me thine; for howcan we talk together else?’
The man laughed outright and said: ‘The young chieftain thinks that thishouse 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 nomore than thou hast been hurt. Now as to my name; the name that was bornwith me is gone: the name that was given me hath been taken from me: nowI belike must give myself a name, and that shall be Wild-wearer; but itmay be that thou thyself shalt one day give me another, and call meGuest.’
His sister gazed at him solemnly as he spoke, and Face-of-god beholdingher the while, deemed that her beauty grew and grew till she seemed asaweful as a Goddess; and into his mind it came that this over-strong manand over-lovely woman were nought mortal, and they withal dealing withhim as father and mother deal with a wayward child: then for a moment hisheart failed him, and he longed for the peace of Burgdale, and even thelonely wood. But therewith she turned to him and let her hand come intohis again, and looked kindly on him and said: ‘And as for me, call me theFriend; the name is good and will serve for many things.’
He looked down from her face and his eyes lighted on her hand, and whenhe 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 ofmenfolk use, his fear departed, and the pleasure of his longing filledhis 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 saythat 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 mostlycall 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 isat hand, and here have we meat and lodging such as an hungry and wearyman may take; though we be broken people, dwellers in the waste.’
Therewith she led him gently over the threshold into the hall, and itseemed to him as if she were the fairest and the noblest of all theQueens of ancient story.
When he was in the house he looked and saw that, rough as it was withoutit lacked not fairness within. The floor was of hard-trodden earthstrewn with pine-twigs, and with here and there brown bearskins laid onit: there was a standing table near the upper end athwart the hall, and adays beyond that, but no endlong table. Gold-mane looked to theshut-beds, and saw that they were large and fair, though there were but afew of them; and at the lower end was a loft for a sleeping chamber dightvery fairly with broidered cloths. The hangings on the walls, thoughthey left some places bare which were hung with fresh boughs, were fairerthan any he had ever seen, so that he deemed that they must come from farcountries and the City of Cities: therein were images wrought of warriorsand fair women of old time and their dealings with the Gods and theGiants, and Wondrous wights; and he deemed that this was the story ofsome great kindred, and that their token and the sign of their bannermust needs be the Wood-wolf, for everywhere was it wrought in thesepictured webs. Perforce he looked long and earnestly at these fairthings, for the hall was not dark yet, because the brands on the hearthwere flaming their last, and when Wild-wearer beheld him so gazing, hestood up and looked too for a moment, and then smote his right hand onthe hilt of his sword, and turned away and strode up and down the hall asone in angry thought.
But the woman, even the Friend, bestirred herself for the service of theguest, and brought water for his hands and feet, and when she had washedhim, 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 theLadies of the Heavenly Burg were doing him service. Then she went awayby a door at the lower end of the hall, and Wild-wearer came and sat downby 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 temperthe carles themselves were of; which were good men, which were ill, whichwas loved and which scorned; no otherwise than if he had been the goodmanof some neighbouring dale; and Gold-mane told him whatso he knew, for hesaw no harm therein.
After a while the outer door opened, and there came in a woman of somefive-and-twenty winters, trimly and strongly built; short-skirted she wasand 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 leashof hares and two brace of mountain grouse; of Face-of-god she took butlittle heed.
Said Wild-wearer: ‘This is good for to-morrow, not for to-day; the meatis well-nigh on the board.’
Then Gold-mane smiled, for he called to mind his home-coming ofyesterday. But the woman said:
‘The fault is not mine; she told me of the coming guest but three hoursagone.’
‘Ay?’ said Wild-wearer, ‘she looked for a guest then?’
‘Yea, certes,’ said the woman, ‘else why went I forth this afternoon, aswearied as I was with yesterday?’
‘Well, well,’ said Wild-wearer, ‘get to thy due work or go play; I meddlenot with meat! and for thee all jests are as bitter earnest.’
‘And with thee, chief,’ she said, ‘it is no otherwise; surely I am madeon thy model.’
‘Thy tongue is longer, friend,’ said he; ‘now tarry if thou wilt, and ifthe supper’s service craveth thee not.’
She turned away with one keen look at Face-of-god, and departed throughthe door at the lower end of the hall.
By this time the hall was dusk, for there were no candles there, and thehearth-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. Atlast the lower door opened and the fair woman came into the hall with atorch in either hand, after whom came the huntress, now clad in a darkblue kirtle, and an old woman yet straight and hale; and these twain borein the victuals and the table-gear. Then the three fell to dighting theboard, and when it was all ready, and Gold-mane and Wild-wearer were setdown to it, and with them the fair woman and the huntress, the old womanthrew good store of fresh brands on the hearth, so that the light shoneinto every corner; and even therewith the outer door opened, and fourmore men entered, whereof one was old, but big and stalwarth, the otherthree young: they were all clad roughly in sheep-brown weed, but hadhelms upon their heads and spears in their hands and great swords girt totheir sides; and they seemed doughty men and ready for battle. One ofthe young men cast down by the door the carcass of a big-horned mountainsheep, 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 moreheed 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 orsleeping?’
‘Sleeping, mother,’ said one of the young men, ‘as was but due after lastnight was, and to-morrow shall be.’
Said the huntress: ‘Hold thy peace, Wood-wise, and let thy tongue helpthy 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, nowis the time to talk to him.’
Said the huntress: ‘’Tis thine hands that talk best, Wood-wont; it is notthey that shall bring thee to shame.’
Spake the third: ‘What have we to do with shame here, far away from doomsand doomers, and elders, and wardens, and guarded castles? If the newman listeth to speak, let him speak; or to fight, then let him; it shallever be man to man.’
Then spake the old woman: ‘Son Wood-wicked, hold thy peace, and forgetthe steel that ever eggeth thee on to draw.’
Therewith she set the last matters on the board, while the three swainssat and eyed Gold-mane somewhat fiercely, now that words had stirredthem, and he had sat there saying nothing, as one who was better thanthey, and contemned them; but now spake Wild-wearer:
‘Whoso hungreth let him eat! Whoso would slumber, let him to bed. Buthe who would bicker, it must needs be with me. Here is a man of theDale, who hath sought the wood in peace, and hath found us. His hand isready 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 ofBurgstead? then wilt thou be of the House of the Face, and thy name willbe Face-of-god; for that man is called the fairest of the Dale, and thereshall be none fairer than thou.’
Face-of-god laughed and said: ‘There be but few mirrors in Burgdale, andI have no mind to journey west to the cities to see what manner of man Ibe: that were ill husbandry. But now I have heard the names of the threeswains, tell me thy name, father!’
Spake the huntress: ‘This is my father’s brother, and his name isWood-father; or ye shall call him so: and I am called Bow-may because Ishoot well in the bow: and this old carline is my eme’s wife, and nowbelike my mother, if I need one. But thou, fair-faced Dalesman, littledost thou need a mirror in the Dale so long as women abide there; fortheir faces shall be instead of mirrors to tell thee whether thou be fairand 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; winelacked not, and that of the best; and Gold-mane noted that the cups andthe 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 spakemuch with her, and he deemed her friendly indeed, and she seemed mostpleased when he spoke best, and led him on to do so. Wild-wearer was butof few words, and those somewhat harsh; yet was he as a man striving tobe courteous and blithe; but of the others Bow-may was the greatestspeaker.
Wild-wearer called healths to the Sun, and the Moon, and the Hosts ofHeaven; 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 GoldenBushel; and the Ragged Sword. But when he asked the Friend concerningthese names what they might signify, she shook her head and answered not.
At last Wild-wearer cried out: ‘Now, lads, the night weareth and theguest is weary: therefore whoso of you hath in him any minstrelsy, nowlet him make it, for later on it shall be over-late.’
Then arose Wood-wont and went to his shut-bed and groped therein, andtook from out of it a fiddle in its case; and he opened the case and drewfrom it a very goodly fiddle, and he stood on the floor amidst of thehall and Bow-may his cousin with him; and he laid his bow on the fiddleand 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 sangtogether; 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; butwe are deeming that his singing shall be but as a starling to a throstlematched against thy new-come guest. Therefore, Dalesman, sing us a songof the Dale, and if ye will, let it be of gardens and pleasant houses ofstone, and fair damsels therein, and swains with them who toil notover-much for a scant livelihood, as do they of the waste, whose headsmay not be seen in the Holy Places.’
Said Gold-mane: ‘Father, it is ill to set the words of a lonely man afarfrom his kin against the song that cometh from the heart of a noblehouse; yet may I not gainsay thee, but will sing to thee what I may callto mind, and it is called the Song of the Ford.’
Therewith he sang in a sweet and clear voice: and this is the meaning ofhis 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 songwas sweet. Yet did Wild-wearer smile somewhat; and Bow-may saidoutright: ‘Soft is the song, and hath been made by lads and minstrelsrather than by warriors.’
‘Nay, kinswoman,’ said Wood-father, ‘thou art hard to please; the guestis kind, and hath given us that I asked for, and I give him all thankstherefor.’
Face-of-god smiled, but he heeded little what they said, for as he sanghe had noted that
the Friend looked kindly on him; and he thought he sawthat once or twice she put out her hand as if to touch him, but drew itback again each time. She spake after a little and said:
‘Here now hath been a stream of song running betwixt the Mountain and theDale even as doth a river; and this is good to come between our dreams ofwhat hath been and what shall be.’ Then she turned to Gold-mane, andsaid to him scarce loud enough for all to hear:
‘Herewith I bid thee good-night, O Dalesman; and this other word I haveto thee: heed not what befalleth in the night, but sleep thy best, fornought shall be to thy scathe. And when thou wakest in the morning, ifwe are yet here, it is well; but if we are not, then abide us no longwhile, 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 seeus again before thou diest.’
Therewith she held out her hand to him, and he took it and kissed it; andshe went to her chamber-aloft at the lower end of the hall. And when shewas gone, once more he had a deeming of her that she was of the kindredof the Gods. At her departure him-seemed that the hall grew dull andsmall and smoky, and the night seemed long to him and doubtful the comingof the day.
The Roots of the Mountains Page 7