The Roots of the Mountains

by William Morris

  CHAPTER LVIII. HOW THE MAIDEN WARD WAS HELD IN BURGDALE.

  NOW May was well worn when the Host came home to Burgdale; and on thevery morrow of men’s home-coming they began to talk eagerly of theMidsummer Weddings, and how the Maiden Ward would be the greatest andfairest of all yet seen, whereas battle and the deliverance from battlestir up the longing and love both of men and maidens; much also men spakeof the wedding of Face-of-god and the Sun-beam; and needs must theirwedding abide to the time of the Maiden Ward at Midsummer, and needs alsomust the Sun-beam go on the Ward with the other Brides of the Folk. Sothen must Face-of-god keep his soul in patience till those few days wereover, doing what work came to hand; and he held his head high among thepeople, and was well looked to of every man.

  In all matters the Sun-beam helped him, both in doing and in forbearing;and now so wonderful and rare was her beauty, that folk looked on herwith somewhat of fear, as though she came from the very folk of the Gods.

  Indeed she seemed somewhat changed from what she had been of late; shewas sober of demeanour during these last days of her maidenhood, and satamongst the kindred as one communing with herself: of few words she wasand little laughter; but her face clear, not overcast by any gloom orshaken by passion: soft and kind was she in converse with others, andsweet were the smiles that came into her face if others’ faces seemed tocrave for them. For it must be said that as some folk eat out theirhearts with fear of the coming evils, even so was she feeding her soulwith the joy of the days to be, whatever trouble might fall upon them,whereof belike she foreboded some.

  So wore the days toward Midsummer, when the wheat was getting past theblossoming, and the grass in the mown fields was growing deep green againafter the shearing of the scythe; when the leaves were most and biggest;when the roses were beginning to fall; when the apples were reddening,and the skins of the grape-berries gathering bloom. High aloft floatedthe light clouds over the Dale; deep blue showed the distant fells belowthe ice-mountains; the waters dwindled; all things sought the shadow bydaytime, and the twilight of even and the twilight of dawn were butsundered by three hours of half-dark night.

  So in the bright forenoon were seventeen brides assembled in the Gate ofBurgstead (but of the rest of the Dale were twenty and three looked for),and with these was the Sun-beam, her face as calm as the mountain lakeunder a summer sunset, while of the others many were restless, andbabbling like April throstles; and not a few talked to her eagerly, andin their restless love of her dragged her about hither and thither.

  No men were to be seen that morning; for such was the custom, that thecarles either departed to the fields and the acres, or abode within doorson the morn of the day of the Maiden Ward; but there was a throng ofwomen about the Gate and down the street of Burgstead, and it may well bedeemed that they kept not silence that hour.

  So fared the Brides of Burgstead to the place of the Maiden Ward on thecauseway, whereto were come already the other brides from steads up anddown the Dale, or were even then close at hand on the way; and among themwere Long-coat and her two fellows, with whom Face-of-god had heldconverse on that morning whereon he had followed his fate to theMountain.

  There then were they gathered under the cliff-wall of the Portway; and bythe road-side had their grooms built them up bowers of green boughs toshelter them from the sun’s burning, which were thatched with bulrushes,and decked with garlands of the fairest flowers of the meadows and thegardens.

  Forsooth they were a lovely sight to look on, for no fairer women mightbe seen in the world; and the eldest of them was scant of five and twentywinters. Every maiden was clad in as goodly raiment as she mightcompass; their sleeves and gown-hems and girdles, yea, their very shoesand sandals were embroidered so fairly and closely, that as they shiftedin the sun they changed colour like the king-fisher shooting from shadowto sunshine. According to due custom every maiden bore some weapon. Afew had bows in their hands and quivers at their backs; some had noughtbut a sword girt to their sides; some bore slender-shafted spears, so asnot to overburden their shapely hands; but to some it seemed a merry gameto carry long and heavy thrust-spears, or to bear great war-axes overtheir shoulders. Most had their flowing hair coifed with bright helms;some had burdened their arms with shields; some bore steel hauberks overtheir linen smocks: almost all had some piece of war-gear on theirbodies; and one, to wit, Steed-linden of the Sickle, a tall and fairdamsel, was so arrayed that no garment could be seen on her but brightsteel war-gear.

  As for the Sun-beam, she was clad in a white kirtle embroidered fromthroat to hem with work of green boughs and flowers of the goodliestfashion, and a garland of roses on her head. Dale-warden himself wasgirt to her side by a girdle fair-wrought of golden wire, and she bore noother weapon or war-gear; and she let him lie quiet in his scabbard, nortouched the hilts once; whereas some of the other damsels would be everdrawing their swords out and thrusting them back. But all noted thatgoodly weapon, the yoke-fellow of so many great deeds.

  There then on the Portway, between the water and the rock-wall, rose upplenteous and gleeful talk of clear voices shrill and soft; and whilesthe maidens sang, and whiles they told tales of old days, and whiles theyjoined hands and danced together on the sweet summer dust of the highway.Then they mostly grew aweary, and sat down on the banks of the road orunder their leafy bowers.

  Noon came, and therewithal goodwives of the neighbouring Dale, whobrought them meat and drink, and fruit and fresh flowers from the teeminggardens; and thereafter for a while they nursed their joy in theirbosoms, and spake but little and softly while the day was at its hottestin the early afternoon.

  Then came out of Burgstead men making semblance of chapmen with a wainbearing wares, and they made as though they were wending down the Portwaywestward to go out of the Dale. Then arose the weaponed maidens andbarred the way to them, and turned them back amidst fresh-springingmerriment.

  Again in a while, when the sun was westering and the shadows growinglong, came herdsmen from down the Dale driving neat, and making as thoughthey would pass by into Burgstead, but to them also did the maidensgainsay the road, so that needs must they turn back amidst laughter andmockery, they themselves also laughing and mocking.

  And so at last, when the maidens had been all alone a while, and it wasnow hard on sunset, they drew together and stood in a ring, and fell tosinging; and one Gold-may of the House of the Bridge, a most sweetsinger, stood amidst their ring and led them. And this is somewhat ofthe meaning of their words:

  The sun will not tarry; now changeth the light, Fail the colours that marry the Day to the Night.

  Amid the sun’s burning bright weapons we bore, For this eve of our earning comes once and no more.

  For to-day hath no brother in yesterday’s tide, And to-morrow no other alike it doth hide.

  This day is the token of oath and behest That ne’er shall be broken through ill days and best.

  Here the troth hath been given, the oath hath been done, To the Folk that hath thriven well under the sun.

  And the gifts of its giving our troth-day shall win Are the Dale for our living and dear days therein.

  O Sun, now thou wanest! yet come back and see Amidst all that thou gainest how gainful are we.

  O witness of sorrow wide over the earth, Rise up on the morrow to look on our mirth!

  Thy blooms art thou bringing back ever for men, And thy birds are a-singing each summer again.

  But to men little-hearted what winter is worse Than thy summers departed that bore them the curse?

  And e’en such art thou knowing where thriveth the year, And good is all growing save thralldom and fear.

  Nought such be our lovers’ hearts drawing anigh, While yet thy light hovers aloft in the sky.

  Lo the seeker, the finder of Death in the Blade! What lips shall be kinder on lips of mine laid?

  La he that hath driven back tribes of the South! Sweet-breathed is thine even, but swee
ter his mouth.

  Come back from the sea then, O sun! come aback, Look adown, look on me then, and ask what I lack!

  Come many a morrow to gaze on the Dale, And if e’er thou seest sorrow remember its tale!

  For ’twill be of a story to tell how men died In the garnering of glory that no man may hide.

  O sun sinking under! O fragrance of earth! O heart! O the wonder whence longing has birth!

  So they sang, and the sun sank indeed; and amidst their singing the evewas still about them, though there came a happy murmur from the face ofthe meadows and the houses of the Thorp aloof. But as their song fellthey heard the sound of footsteps a many on the road; so they turned andstood with beating hearts in such order as when a band of the valiantdraw together to meet many foes coming on them from all sides, and theystand back to back to face all comers. And even therewith, their raimentgleaming amidst the gathering dusk, came on them the young men of theDale newly delivered from the grief of war.

  Then in very deed the fierce mouths of the raisers of the war-shout werekind on the faces of tender maidens. Then went spear and axe and helmand shield clattering to the earth, as the arms of the new-comers wentround about the bodies of the Brides, weary with the long day ofsunshine, and glee and loving speech, and the maidens suffered the youngmen to lead them whither they would, and twilight began to draw roundabout them as the Maiden Band was sundered.

  Some, they were led away westward down the Portway to the homesteadsthereabout; and for divers of these the way was long to their halls, andthey would have to wend over long stretches of dewy meadows, and hear thenight-wind whisper in many a tree, and see the east begin to lighten withthe dawn before they came to the lighted feast that awaited them. Butsome turned up the Portway straight towards Burgstead; and short wastheir road to the halls where even now the lights were being kindled fortheir greeting.

  As for the Sun-beam, she had been very quiet the day long, speaking aslittle as she might do, laughing not at all, and smiling for kindness’sake rather than for merriment; and when the grooms came seeking theirmaidens, she withdrew herself from the band, and stood alone amidst theroad nigher to Burgstead than they; and her heart beat hard, and herbreath came short and quick, as though fear had caught her in its grip;and indeed for one moment of time she feared that he was not coming toher. For he had gone with the other grooms to that gathered band, andhad passed from one to the other, not finding her, till he had got himthrough the whole company, and beheld her awaiting him. Then indeed hebounded toward her, and caught her by the hands, and then by theshoulders, and drew her to him, and she nothing loth; and in that whilehe said to her:

  ‘Come then, my friend; lo thou! they go each their own way toward thehalls of their houses; and for thee have I chosen a way—a way over thefoot-bridge yonder, and over the dewy meadows on this best even of theyear.’

  ‘Nay, nay,’ she said, ‘it may not be. Surely the Burgstead grooms lookto thee to lead them to the gate; and surely in the House of the Facethey look to see thee before any other. Nay, Gold-mane, my dear, we mustneeds go by the Portway.’

  He said: ‘We shall be home but a very little while after the first, forthe way I tell of is as short as the Portway. But hearken, my sweet!When we are in the meadows we shall sit down for a minute on a bank underthe chestnut trees, and thence watch the moon coming up over the southerncliffs. And I shall behold thee in the summer night, and deem that I seeall thy beauty; which yet shall make me dumb with wonder when I see itindeed in the house amongst the candles.’

  ‘O nay,’ she said, ‘by the Portway shall we go; the torch-bearers shallbe abiding thee at the gate.’

  Spake Face-of-god: ‘Then shall we rise up and wend first through a widetreeless meadow, wherein amidst the night we shall behold the kine movingabout like odorous shadows; and through the greyness of the moonlightthou shalt deem that thou seest the pink colour of the eglantineblossoms, so fragrant they are.’

  ‘O nay,’ she said, ‘but it is meet that we go by the Portway.’

  But he said: ‘Then from the wide meadow come we into a close of corn, andthen into an orchard-close beyond it. There in the ancient walnut-treethe owl sitteth breathing hard in the night-time; but thou shalt not hearhim for the joy of the nightingales singing from the apple-trees of theclose. Then from out of the shadowed orchard shall we come into the opentown-meadow, and over its daisies shall the moonlight be lying in a greyflood of brightness.

  ‘Short is the way across it to the brim of the Weltering Water, andacross the water lieth the fair garden of the Face; and I have dight forthee there a little boat to waft us across the night-dark waters, thatshall be like wavering flames of white fire where the moon smites them,and like the void of all things where the shadows hang over them. Therethen shall we be in the garden, beholding how the hall-windows areyellow, and hearkening the sound of the hall-glee borne across theflowers and blending with the voice of the nightingales in the trees.There then shall we go along the grass paths whereby the pinks and thecloves and the lavender are sending forth their fragrance, to cheer us,who faint at the scent of the over-worn roses, and the honey-sweetness ofthe lilies.

  ‘All this is for thee, and for nought but for thee this even; and many ablossom whereof thou knowest nought shall grieve if thy foot tread notthereby to-night; if the path of thy wedding which I have made, be voidof thee, on the even of the Chamber of Love.

  ‘But lo! at last at the garden’s end is the yew-walk arched over forthee, and thou canst not see whereby to enter it; but I, I know it, and Ilead thee into and along the dark tunnel through the moonlight, and thinehand is not weary of mine as we go. But at the end shall we come to awicket, which shall bring us out by the gable-end of the Hall of theFace. Turn we about its corner then, and there are we blinking on thetorches of the torch-bearers, and the candles through the open door, andthe hall ablaze with light and full of joyous clamour, like the bale-firein the dark night kindled on a ness above the sea by fisher-folkremembering the Gods.’

  ‘O nay,’ she said, ‘but by the Portway must we go; the straightest way tothe Gate of Burgstead.’

  In vain she spake, and knew not what she said; for even as he wasspeaking he led her away, and her feet went as her will went, rather thanher words; and even as she said that last word she set her foot on thefirst board of the foot-bridge; and she turned aback one moment, and sawthe long line of the rock-wall yet glowing with the last of the sunset ofmidsummer, while as she turned again, lo! before her the moon justbeginning to lift himself above the edge of the southern cliffs, andbetwixt her and him all Burgdale, and Face-of-god moreover.

  Thus then they crossed the bridge into the green meadows, and through thecloses and into the garden of the Face and unto the Hall-door; and otherbrides and grooms were there before them (for six grooms had brought homebrides to the House of the Face); but none deemed it amiss in theWar-leader of the folk and the love that had led him. And old Stone-facesaid: ‘Too many are the rows of bee-skeps in the gardens of the Dale thatwe should begrudge wayward lovers an hour’s waste of candle-light.’

  So at last those twain went up the sun-bright Hall hand in hand in alltheir loveliness, and up on to the daïs, and stood together by the middleseat; and the tumult of the joy of the kindred was hushed for a while asthey saw that there was speech in the mouth of the War-leader.

  Then he spread his hands abroad before them all and cried out: ‘How thenhave I kept mine oath, whereas I swore on the Holy Boar to wed thefairest woman of the world?’

  A mighty shout went rattling about the timbers of the roof in answer tohis word; and they that looked up to the gable of the Hall said that theysaw the ray-ringed image of the God smile with joy over the gatheredfolk.

  But spake Iron-face unheard amidst the clamour of the Hall: ‘How fares itnow with my darling and my daughter, who dwelleth amongst strangers inthe land beyond the wild-wood?’

  CHAPTER LIX. THE BEHEST OF FACE-OF-GOD TO THE BRIDE ACCOMP
LISHED: AMOTE-STEAD APPOINTED FOR THE THREE FOLKS, TO WIT, THE MEN OF BURGDALE,THE SHEPHERDS, AND THE CHILDREN OF THE WOLF.

  THREE years and two months thereafter, three hours after noon in the daysof early autumn, came a wain tilted over with precious webs of cloth, anddrawn by eight white oxen, into the Market-place of Silver-stead: twoscore and ten of spearmen of the tallest, clad in goodly war-gear, wentbeside it, and much people of Silver-dale thronged about them. The wainstayed at the foot of the stair that led up to the door of theMote-house, and there lighted down therefrom a woman goodly of fashion,with wide grey eyes, and face and hands brown with the sun’s burning.She had a helm on her head and a sword girt to her side, and in her armsshe bore a yearling child.

  And there was come Bow-may with the second man-child born to Face-of-god.

  She stayed not amidst the wondering folk, but hastened up the stair,which she had once seen running with the blood of men: the door was open,and she went in and walked straight-way, with the babe in her arms, upthe great Hall to the daïs.

  There were men on the daïs: amidmost sat Folk-might, little changed sincethe last day she had seen him, yet fairer, she deemed, than of old time;and her heart went forth to meet the Chieftain of her Folk, and the gladtears started in her eyes and ran down her cheeks as she drew near tohim.

  By his side sat the Bride, and her also Bow-may deemed to have waxedgoodlier. Both she and Folk-might knew Bow-may ere she had gone half thelength of the hall; and the Bride rose up in her place and cried outBow-may’s name joyously.

  With these were sitting the elders of the Wolf and the Woodlanders, themore part of whom Bow-may knew well.

  On the daïs also stood aside a score of men weaponed, and looking as ifthey were awaiting the word which should send them forth on some errand.

  Now stood up Folk-might and said: ‘Fair greeting and love to my friendand the daughter of my Folk! How farest thou, Bow-may, best of allfriendly women? How fareth my sister, and Face-of-god my brother? andhow is it with our friends and helpers in the goodly Dale?’

  Said Bow-may: ‘It is well both with all those and with me; and my heartlaughs to see thee, Folk-might, and to look on the elders of the valiant,and our lovely sister the Bride. But I have a message for thee fromFace-of-god: wilt thou that I deliver it here?’

  ‘Yea surely,’ said Folk-might, and came forth and took her hand, andkissed her cheeks and her mouth. The Bride also came forth and cast herarms about her, and kissed her; and they led her between them to a seaton the daïs beside Folk-might.

  But all men looked on the child in her arms and wondered what it was.But Bow-may took the babe, which was both fair and great, and set it onthe knees of the Bride, and said:

  ‘Thus saith Face-of-god: “Friend and kinswoman, well-beloved playmate,the gift which thou badest of me in sorrow do thou now take in joy, anddo all the good thou wouldest to the son of thy friend. The ring which Igave thee once in the garden of the Face, give thou to Bow-may, my trustyand well-beloved, in token of the fulfilment of my behest.”’

  Then the Bride kissed Bow-may again, and fell to fondling of the child,which was loth to leave Bow-may.

  But she spake again: ‘To thee also, Folk-might, I have a message fromFace-of-god, who saith: “Mighty warrior, friend and fellow, all thingsthrive with us, and we are happy. Yet is there a hollow place in ourhearts which grieveth us, and only thou and thine may amend it. Thoughwhiles we hear tell of thee, yet we see thee not, and fain were we, mightwe see thee, and wot if the said tales be true. Wilt thou help ussomewhat herein, or wilt thou leave us all the labour? For sure we bethat thou wilt not say that thou rememberest us no more, and that thylove for us is departed.” This is his message, Folk-might, and he wouldhave an answer from thee.’

  Then laughed Folk-might and said: ‘Sister Bow-may, seest thou theseweaponed men hereby?’

  ‘Yea,’ she said.

  Said he: ‘These men bear a message with them to Face-of-god my brother.Crow the Shaft-speeder, stand forth and tell thy friend Bow-may themessage I have set in thy mouth, every word of it.’

  Then Crow stood forth and greeted Bow-may friendly, and said: ‘FriendBow-may, this is the message of our Alderman: “Friend and helper, in theDale which thou hast given to us do all things thrive; neither are wegrown old in three years’ wearing, nor are our memories worsened. Welong sore to see you and give you guesting in Silver-dale, and one daythat shall befall. Meanwhile, know this: that we of the Wolf and theWoodland, mindful of the earth that bore us, and the pit whence we weredigged, have a mind to go see Shadowy Vale once in every three years, andthere to hold high-tide in the ancient Hall of the Wolf, and sit in theDoom-ring of our Fathers. But since ye have joined yourselves to us inbattle, and have given us this Dale, our health and wealth, without priceand without reward, we deem you our very brethren, and small shall be ourhall-glee, and barren shall our Doom-ring seem to us, unless ye sit therebeside us. Come then, that we may rejoice each other by the sight offace and sound of voice; that we may speak together of matters thatconcern our welfare; so that we three Kindreds may become one Folk. Andif this seem good to you, know that we shall be in Shadowy Vale in ahalf-month’s wearing. Grieve us not by forbearing to come.” Lo,Bow-may, this is the message, and I have learned it well, for well itpleaseth me to bear it.’

  Then said Folk-might: ‘What say’st thou to the message, Bow-may?’

  ‘It is good in all ways,’ said she, ‘but is it timely? May our folk havethe message and get to Shadowy Vale, so as to meet you there?’

  ‘Yea surely,’ said Folk-might, ‘for our kinsmen here shall take the roadthrough Shadowy Vale, and in four days’ time they shall be in Burgdale,and as thou wottest, it is scant a two days’ journey thence to ShadowyVale.’

  Therewith he turned to those men again, and said: ‘Kinsman Crow, departnow, and use all diligence with thy message.’

  So the messengers began to stir; but Bow-may cried out: ‘Ho! Folk-might,my friend, I perceive thou art little changed from the man I knew inShadowy Vale, who would have his dinner before the fowl were plucked.For shall I not go back with these thy messengers, so that I also may getall ready to wend to the Mote-house of Shadowy Vale?’

  But the Bride looked kindly on her, and laughed and said: ‘SisterBow-may, his meaning is that thou shouldest abide here in Silver-daletill we depart for the Folk-thing, and then go thither with us; and thisI also pray thee to do, that thou mayst rejoice the hearts of thine oldfriends; and also that thou mayst teach me all that I should knowconcerning this fair child of my brother and my sister.’

  And she looked on her so kindly as she caressed the babe, that Bow-may’sheart melted, and she cried out:

  ‘Would that I might never depart from the house wherein thou dwellest, OBride of my Kinsman! And this that thou biddest me is easy and pleasantfor me to do. But afterwards I must get me back to Burgdale; for I seemto have left much there that calleth for me.’

  ‘Yea,’ said Folk-might, ‘and art thou wedded, Bow-may? Shalt thou neverbend the yew in battle again?’

  Said Bow-may soberly: ‘Who knoweth, chieftain? Yea, I am wedded nowthese two years; and nought I looked for less when I followed those twainthrough the wild-wood to Burgdale.’

  She sighed therewith, and said: ‘In all the Dale there is no better manof his hands than my man, nor any goodlier to look on, and he is eventhat Hart of Highcliff whom thou knowest well, O Bride!’

  Said the Bride: ‘Thou sayest sooth, there is no better man in the Dale.’

  Said Bow-may: ‘Sun-beam bade me wed him when he pressed hard upon me.’She stayed awhile, and then said: ‘Face-of-god also deemed I should notnaysay the man; and now my son by him is of like age to this little one.’

  ‘Good is thy story,’ said Folk-might; ‘or deemest thou, Bow-may, thatsuch strong and goodly women as thou, and women so kind and friendly,should forbear the wedding and the bringing forth of children? Yea, andwe who may even yet have to gather to another field before
we die, andfight for life and the goods of life.’

  ‘Thou sayest well,’ she said; ‘all that hath befallen me is good sincethe day whereon I loosed shaft from the break of the bent over yonder.’

  Therewith she fell a-musing, and made as though she were hearkening tothe soft voice of the Bride caressing the new-come baby; but in soothneither heard nor saw what was going on about her, for her thoughts werein bygone days. Howbeit presently she came to herself again, and fell toasking many questions concerning Silver-dale and the kindred, and thosewho had once been thralls of the Dusky Men; and they answered all duly,and told her the whole story of the Dale since the Day of the Victory.

  So Bow-may and the carles who had come with her abode for that half-monthin Silver-dale, guested in all love by the folk thereof, both thekindreds and the poor folk. And Bow-may deemed that the Bride lovedFace-of-god’s child little less than her own, whereof she had two, a manand a woman; and thereat was she full of joy, since she knew thatFace-of-god and the Sun-beam would be fain thereof.

  Thereafter, when the time was come, fared Folk-might and the Bride, andmany of the elders and warriors of the Wolf and the Woodland, to ShadowyVale; and Dallach and the best of Rose-dale went with them, being sobidden; and Bow-may and her following, according to the word of theBride. And in Shadowy Vale they met Face-of-god and Alderman Iron-face,and the chiefs of Burgdale and the Shepherds, and many others; and greatjoy there was at the meeting. And the Sun-beam remembered the word whichshe spoke to Face-of-god when first he came to Shadowy Vale, that shewould be wishful to see again the dwelling wherein she had passed throughso much joy and sorrow of her younger days. But if anyone were fain ofthis meeting, the Alderman was glad above all, when he took the Brideonce more in his arms, and caressed her whom he had deemed should be avery daughter of his House.

  Now telleth the tale of all these kindreds, to wit, the Men of Burgdaleand the Sheepcotes; and the Children of the Wolf, and the Woodlanders,and the Men of Rose-dale, that they were friends henceforth, and becameas one Folk, for better or worse, in peace and in war, in waning andwaxing; and that whatsoever befell them, they ever held Shadowy Vale aholy place, and for long and long after they met there in mid-autumn, andheld converse and counsel together.

  NO MORE AS NOW TELLETH THE TALE OF THESE KINDREDS AND FOLKS, BUT MAKETHAN ENDING.

  * * * * *

  CHISWICK PRESS:—C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE.