 CHAPTER VII OF THE ROOTS OF THE MOUNTAINS So that he went to sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. But within a while he deemed about two hours after midnight. He was awaked by the clattering of the weapons against the panel, and the sound of men's hands taking them down. And when he was fully awake he heard with all men going up and down the house, as if on errands. But he called to mind what the friend had said to him, and he did not so much as turn himself toward the hall. For he said, Be like these men are outlaws and wolves of the holy places. Yet by seeming they are good fellows and not churlish. Nor have I to do with taking up the feud against them. I will abide the morning. Yet me seemeth that she drew me hither. For what cause? Therewith he fell asleep again, and dreamed no more. But when he awoke, the sun was shining broad upon the whole floor, and he sat up and listened. But could hear no sound save the moaning of the wind in the pine-bows, and the chatter of the starlings about the gables of the house. And the place seemed so exceeding lonely to him that he was in a man of fear by that loneliness. Then he arose and clad himself, and went forth into the hall and gazed about him. And at first he deemed indeed that there was no one therein. But at last he looked and beheld the upper gable. And there, underneath the most goodly hanging, was the glorious shape of a woman, sitting on a bench, covered over with a cloth of gold and silver. And he looked and looked to see if the woman might stir, and if she were alive. And she turned her head toward him, and lo! it was the friend. And his heart rose to his mouth for wonder and fear and desire, and now he doubted whether the other folk were awed save shows and shadows, and she the goddess who had fashioned them out of nothing for his bewilderment, presently to return to nothing. Yet whatever he might fear or doubt, he went up the hall toward her, till he was quite night to her, and there he stood silent, wondering at her beauty, and desiring her kindness. Gray eyed she was like her brother, but her hair the colour of red wheat, her lips full and red, her chin round, her nose fine and straight, her hands and all her body fashioned exceedingly sweetly and delicately, yet not as if she were an image of which the like might be found if the craftsmen were but deft enough to make a perfect thing. But in such a way that there was none like to her, for those that had eyes to behold her as she was, and none could ever be made like to her, even by such a master craftsman as could fashion a body without a blemish. She was clad in a white smock, whose hems were broided with gold wire and precious gems of the mountains, and over that a gown woven of gold and silver, scarce hath the world such another. On her head was a fillet of golden gems, and there were wondrous gold rings on her arms. Her feet lay bare on the dark gray wolfskin that was stretched before her. She smiled kindly upon his solemn and troubled face, and her voice sounded strangely familiar to him, coming from all that loveliness, as she said, Hail face of God, here am I left alone, although I deemed last night that I should be gone with the others. Therefore am I feigned to show myself to thee in fairer array than yesterday night, for though we dwell in the wild wood afar from the solace of folk, yet are we not of thralls blood. But come now, I bid thee break thy fast and talk with me a little while, and then shall thou depart in peace. Spake face of God, and his voice trembled as he spake, but art thou, last night I deemed at wiles once and again, that thou wert of the gods, and now that I behold thee thus, that it is broad daylight, and of those others is no more to be seen than if they had never lived. I cannot but deem that it is even so, and that thou comest from the city that shall never perish. Now, if thou be a goddess, I have not to pray thee, save to slay me speedily if thou hast a mind for my death, but if thou art a woman, she broke in. Gold-man, stay thy prayer and hold thy peace for this time, lest thou repent when repent a surveilleth not, and this I say because I am none of the gods, nor akin to them, say far off through the generations, as art thou also, and all men of goodly kindred. Now I bid thee, eat thy meat, since his ill-talking betwixt a full man and a fasting, and I have dieted myself with my own hands, for Bohme and the wood-mother went away with the rest three hours before dawn. Come, sit and eat as thou hast a hardy heart, as for sooth thou shouldst do, if I were a very goddess. Take heed, friend, lest I take thee for some damsel of the lower dale, a raid in Earl's garments. She laughed therewith, and leaned toward him, and put forth her hand to him, and he took it and caressed it, and the exceeding beauty of her body, and of the raiment, which was, as it were, a part of her and her loveliness, made her laughter and her friendly words strange to him, as if one did not belong to the other, as in a dream it might be. Nevertheless he did as she bade him, and sat at the board and ate, while she leaned forward on the arm of her chair and spake to him in a friendly wise, and he wondered as she spake that she knew so much of him and his, and he kept saying to himself, she drew me hither, wherefore did she so? But she said, Goal-main, how fairer thy father the Olderman, is he as good a right as ever. He told her, yea, that ever was his hammer on the iron, the copper and the gold, and that no right in the dale was as deft as he. But he not have had thee seek to the cities, to see the ways of the outer world. Yea, said he. She said, thou art wise to naysay that offer, thou shalt have enough to do in the dale and round about it in twelve months time. Art thou foresighted, said he. Folk have called me so, she said, but I what not. But the brother hall face, how fair of he. Well, said he, to my deeming he is the sword of our house and the warrior of the dale, if the days were ready for him. And stone face, that stark ancient, she said, doth he still love the folk of the dale, and hate all other folks. Nay, he said, I know not that, but I know that he loveth us and above all me and my father. Again she spake, how fair of the bride, the fair maid to whom thou art afiant. As she spake it was to him, as if his heart was stricken cold, but he put a force upon himself, and neither reddened nor whitened, nor changed countenance in any way. So he answered, she was well the eve of yesterday. Then he remembered what she was, and her beauty and valour, and he constrained himself to say, each day she groweth fairer, there is no man's son and no daughter of woman that does not love her, yea, the very beast of the field and foal love her. The friend looked at him steadily and spake no word, but a red flush mounted to her cheeks and brow, and changed her face, and he marveled there at, for still he misdoubted that she was a goddess. But it passed away in a moment, and she smiled and said, Guest, thou seemest to wonder that I know concerning thee and the dale and thy kindred, but now shalt thou what that I have been in the dale once and again, and my brother often astill, and that I have seen thee before yesterday. That is marvellous, quoth thee, for sure am I that I have not seen thee, yet thou hast seen me, she said, yet not altogether as I am now. And therewith she smiled on him friendly. Thou is this, said he, art thou a skin-changer? Yea, in a fashion, she said, Harken, does thou perchance remember a day of last summer when there was a market-holden in Burgstead, and there stood in the way over against the house of the face, a tall old carl, who was trucking dearskins for diverse gear, and with him was a queen, tall and dark-skinned, somewhat well-liking, her hair bound up in a white quaff, so that none of it could be seen. By the token that she had a large stone of mountain-blue set in silver, stuck in the said quaff. As she spoke, she set her hand to her bosom, and drew something from it, and held forth her hand to gold-main, and lo, amidst the palm, the great blue stone set in silver. Wondrous as a dream is this, said face of God, for these twain I remember well, and what followed. She said, I will tell thee that, there came a man of the shepherd-fork, drunk of foolish, a both, who began to chaff her with the big carl. Whenever on the queen were his eyes set, and presently he put forth his hand to clip her, whereon the big carl hoeved up his fist and smote him, so that he fell to earth, nose-ling. Then ran the fork together to hail off the stranger, and helped the shepherd, and it was like that the stranger should be mishandled. Then there thrust through the press a young man with yellow hair and grey eyes, who cried out, fellows, let be! The stranger had the right of it. This is no matter to make a quarrel or a court-case off, let the market go on. The man had made a true folk. So when the fork heard the young man and his bidding, they forebore, and let the carl and the queen be, and the shepherd went his ways a little hurt. Now, then, who was this young man? Quoth gold-main, it was even I, and me seamoth, it was no great deed to do. Ye, she said, and the big carl was my brother, and the tall queen, it was myself. How, then, said he, for she was as dark-skinned as a dwarf, and thou so bright and fair. She said, well, if the woods are good for nothing else, yet are they good for the growing of herbs, and I know the craft of simpling, and with one of these herbs had I stained my skin and my brothers also, and it showed the darker beneath the white quaff. Ye, said he, but why must ye need fair infane shapes? Ye would have been welcome guests in the dale, howsoever ye had come. I may not tell thee hereof as now, said she. Said gold-main, yet thou mayst be like tell me wherefore it was that thy brother desired to slay me yesterday, if he knew me, who I was. Gold-main, she said, though art not slain, so little story need be made of that. For the rest, be like he knew thee not at that moment, so it falls that we look to see foes rather than friends in the wild woods. Many uncouth things are therein. Moreover, I must tell thee of my brother that whilst he is as the stalled bull late let loose, and nothing is good to him save battle and onset, and then he is blind, and knows not friend from foe. Said face of God, thou hast asked of me and mine, wilt thou not tell me of thee and thine? Nay, she said, not as now, thou must be take thee to the way, with the work thou end in when thou appenced upon us. He said, I know not, I was seeking something, but I knew not what. Me see, moth, that now I have found it. Art thou for the great mountains seeking gems? She said, ye go not thither today, for who knoweth what thou shalt meet there that shall be thy foe? He said, nay, nay, I have not to do but to abide here as long as I may, looking upon thee and harkening to thy voice. Her eyes were upon his, but yet she did not seem to see him, and for a while she answered not, and still he wondered that me a word should come from so fair a thing, for whether she moved foot or hand or knee, or turned this way or that, each time she stirred it was a caress to his very heart. He spake again, may I not abide here a while? What scathe may be in that? It is not so, she said, thou must depart, and that straightway. Lo, there lie a thyspear with which the wood-mother hath brought in from the waist. Take thy gear to thee, and when thy ways. Have patience, I will lead thee to the place where we first met, and there give thee fair well. Therewith she arose, and he also perforce, and when they came to the doorway, she stepped across the threshold, and gave him her hand, and so led him forth, the sun flashing back from her golden raiment. Together they went over the short grey grass of that hillside, so they came to the place where he had arisen from that wrestle with her brother. There she stayed him and said, this is the place, here we must part. But his heart failed him, and he faltered in his speech as he said, when shall I see thee again? Well, thou slay me if I seek to meet thee. Hark, and she said, autumn is now a dying into winter, let winter and its snows go past, nor seek to me hither. For me thou shalt not find, but thy death thou mightest well fall in with, and I would not that thou shouldest die. When winter is gone and spring is on the land, if thou hast not forgotten us, thou shalt meet us again. Yet shalt thou go further than this woodland hall. In shadowy veil shalt thou seek to me then, and there shall I talk with thee. And where, said he, his shadowy veil, for thereof I have never heard tell. She said, the token when it cometh to thee, shall show thee thereof in the way thither. Ah, thou a babbler, gold-main. He said, I have won no prize for babbling hither, too. She said, if thou listest to babble concerning what hath befallen thee on the mountain, so do, and repent it once only, that is, thy life long. Why should I say any word thereof? said he. Does thou not know the sweetness of such a tale untold? He spake as one who is somewhat wrathful, and she answered humbly and kindly, well is that. By thou the token that shall lead thee to shadowy veil. Farewell now. She drew her hand from his, and turned and went her way swiftly to the house. He could not choose but gaze on her, as she went glittering bright and fair, in that great place of the mountains, till the dark doorway swallowed up her beauty. Then he turned away, and took the path through the pine woods, muttering to himself as he went, what things have I done now that hitherto I had not done? What manner of man am I today, other than the man I was yesterday? End of chapter 7 Chapter 8 Of the Roots of the Mountains by William Morris This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Face of God cometh home again to Burgstead. Face of God went back through the wood by the way he had come, paying little heed to the things about him, for whatever he thought of strayed not one witt from the image of the fair woman of the mountainside. He went through the wood swiftlier than yesterday, and made no stay for noon or or else. Nor did he linger on the road when he was coming to the dale, either to speak to any or to note what they did. So he came to the house of the face about dusk, and found no man within the hall, either Carl or Queen. So he cried out on the folk, and there came in a damsel of the house, whom he greeted she him again. He bade her bring the washing water, and she did so, and washed his feet and his hands. She was a fair maid enough, as were most in the dale, but he heeded her little, and when she was done, he kissed not her cheek for her pains, as his want was, but let her go her ways unthanked. But he went to his shut bed, and opened his chest, and drew fair raiment from it, and did good gear, and did on him a goodly scarlet curdle, fairly broided, and a collar with gems of price therein, and other braveries. And when he was so attired, he came out into the hall, and there was old Stoneface standing by the hearth, which was blazing brightly with fresh brands, so that things were clear to see. Stoneface noted Goldman's gay raiment, for he was not to want to wear save on the feasts and high days when he behoved to. So the old man smiled and said Welcome back from the wood, but what is it? Has that been wedded there? Who have made the earl and king? Said Face of God, Foster Father, sooth it is that I have been to the wood, but there have I seen naught of manfolk worse than myself. Now as to my raiment, needs must I keep it from the moth, and I am very weary with all, and this curtle is light and easy to me. Moreover, I look to see the bride here again, and I would pleasure her with the sight of gay raiment upon me. Nay, said Stoneface, has thou not seen some woman in the wood arrayed like the image of a god? And hath she not bidden thee thus to worship her tonight? For I know that such whites be in the wood, and that such is their wants. Nor worship naught save the gods and the fathers, nor saw I in the wood any such as thou sayest. Therewith, Stoneface shook his head, but after a while he said, art thou for the wood to-morrow? Nay, said goldmane angrily, knitting his brows. The morrow of to-morrow, said Stoneface, is the day when we look to see the Westland merchants. After all, wilt thou not go hence with them when they went their ways before the first snowsfall. Nay, said he, I have no mind to it, fosterer, cease egging me on here too. Then Stoneface shook his head again, and looked on him long and muttered, to the wood wilt thou go to-morrow or next day, or some day when doomed is thine undoing. Therewith entered the service and torches, and presently after came the alderman with hall-face, and Ironface greeted his son and said to him, thou hast not hit the time to do on thy gay raiment, for the bride will not be here tonight. She bideth still at the feast at the apple-tree-house, or wilt thou be there, son? Nay, said face of God, I am over weary, and as for my raiment it is well, it is for thine honour and the honour of the name. So to-table they went, and Ironface asked his son of his ways again, and whether it was fixed in his mind not to go down to the plain and the cities. For, said he, the morrow if tomorrow shall the merchants be here, and this were great news for them if the son of the alderman should be their fairing fellow-back. But face of God answered without any haste or heat, Nay, father, it may not be. Fear not, thou shalt see that I have a good will to work and live in the dale. And loved Murth and the ways of his own will. He was a stalwart workman and few could mow a match with him in the hay-month, and win it. Or fell trees as certainly and swiftly, or drive as straight and clean a furrow through the stiff land of the lower dale. And in other matters also was he deft and sturdy. End of chapter 8 Chapter 9 of The Roots of the Mountains by William Morris recording as in the public domain, those brethren fair to the you-wood with the bride. Next morning face of God died himself for work and took his axe, that his brother Hallface had bidden him go down with him to the you-wood and cut timber there, since he of all men knew where to go straight to the sticks that would quarter best for both staves, whereas the alderman had the right of hewing in that wood. So they went forth those brethren from the house of the face, but when they were gotten to the gate, who should be there but the bride awaiting them, and she with an ass, duly saddled for bearing the you-sticks, because Hallface had told her that he and Belike Goldmane were going to hew in the wood, and she thought it good to be of the company, as often befallen erst. When they met, she greeted face of God and kissed him as her once was, and he looked upon her and saw how fair she was, and how kind and friendly were her eyes that beheld him, and how her whole face was eager for him as their lips parted. Then his heart failed him, when he knew that he no longer desired her as she did him, and he said within himself, would that she had been of our nicest kindred, would that I had had a sister, and that this were she. So the three went along the highway down the hill, and Hallface and the bride talked merrily together and laughed, for she was happy, since she knew that Goldmane had been to the wood and was back safe, and as much as he had been before. So indeed it seemed of him, for though at first he was moody and a few words, yet presently he cursed himself for a marsport, and so fell into the talk, and then forced himself to be merry, and soon he was so indeed, for he thought she drew me thither, she had a deed for me to do, I shall do the deed and have my reward, soon will the spring tide be here, and I shall be a young man yet when it comes. So came they to the place where he had met the three maidens yesterday. There they also turned from the highway, and as they went down the bent Goldmane could not but turn his eyes on the beauty of the bride and the lovely ways of her body, but presently he remembered all that had be tidd and turned away again, as one who is noting what it behoves him not to note, and he said to himself where art thou Goldmane, whose art thou? Yea, even if that had been but a dream that I have dreamed, yet would that this fair woman were my sister. So came they to the Eewood, and the brethren fell to work, and the bride with them, for she was deft with the axe and strong but at midday they rested on the green slope without the Eewood, and they ate bread and flesh and onions and apples, and drank red wine of the dale, and while they were resting after their meet the bride sang to them, and her song was a lay of time past, and here ye have somewhat of it. It is over the hill and over the dale men ride from the city fast and far, if they may have a soothfast tale, through tidings of the host of war, and first they happened men at arms, all clad in steel from head to foot, now tell true tale of the newcom harms, and gathered hosts of the mountain roots. Fair sirs, from murder cars we flee, whose fashion is as the mountain trolls, no man can tell how many they be, and the voice of their host as the thunder rolls. They were weary men at the ending day, but they spurred nor stayed for longer word. Now ye, oh merchants, wither away, what do ye there with the helm and the sword? Oh, we must fight for life and gear, for our beasts are spent and our wanes are stayed, and the host of the mountain men draws near that maketh all the world afraid. They left the Chapman on the hill and rode through the eve and through the night, they rode to have true tidings still, and were away when the dawn was bright. Oh, damsels fair, what do ye then to loiter thus upon the way, and have no fear of the mountain men, the host of the cars that strip and slay? Oh, riders weary with the road, come eat and drink on the grass hereby, and lay you down in a fair abode till the midday sun is broad and high. Then unto you shall we come aback, and lead you forth to the mountain men, to note their mercy and their lack, and have true tidings there and then. It is over the hill and over the dale, they ride from the mountain fast and far, and now have they learned a soothfast tale, true tidings of the host of war. It was summer tide, and the month of hay, and men and maids must fare afield. But we saw the place where the both staves lay, and the hall was hung with spear and shield. When the moon was high, we drank in the hall, and they drank to the guests and were kind and blithe. And they said, come back when the chestnuts fall, and the wine carts wend across the hive. Come often or again, they said, wonder your ways, but we abide, for all the world in the little stead, for wise are we, though the world be wide. Yea, come in arms if you will, they said, and despite your host shall we abide, for life or death in the little stead, for wise are we, though the world be wide. So she made an end, and looked at the fairness of the dale spreading wide before her, and a robin came nigh from out of a thorn-bush, and sung his song also, the sweet herald of coming winter, and the lap-wings wheeled about, black and white, above the meadow by the river, sending forth their weadling pipe as they hung above the soft turf. She felt the brothers near her, and knew their friendliness from of old, and she was happy, nor had she looked closer at gold-main, which she have noted any change in him be like, for the meat and the good wine, and the fair sunny time, and the bride's sweet voice, and the ancient song softened his heart, while it fed the desire therein. So in a while they arose from their rest, and did what was left of them of their work, and so went back their fair afternoon, by seeming all three in all content. But yet gold-main, as from time to time he looked upon the bride, kept saying to himself, oh, if she had been, but my sister, sweet had the kinship been. It was three days thereafter that gold-main, leading an ass, went along the highway to fetch home certain fleeters, which were needed for the house from a stead a little west of Wild Lake. But he had gone scant half a mile, ere he fell in with a throng of folk going to Burgstead. They were of the shepherds, they had weapons with them, and some were cladding coats of fence. They went along making a great noise, for they were all talking each to each at the same time, and seemed very hot and eager to talk about some matter. When they saw gold-main and I, they stopped, and the throng opened, as if to let him into their midmost. So he mingled with them, and they stood in a ring about him and an old man, more ill-favoured than it was the want of the dalesmen to be. For he was long, stooping, gaunt, and spindle-shanked, his hands big and crippled with mouth out. His cheeks were red after an old man's fashion, covered with a crimson network like a pippin, his lips thin and not well hiding his few teeth, his nose long like a snipe's neb, in short a shame and a laughing stock to the folk, and a man whom the kindreds had in small esteem, and that for good reasons. Face of God knew him at once for a notable close-fist and star-balled fool of the gods, and his name was now become Penethon the Lean, whatever it might once have been. So Face of God greeted all men and they him again, and he said, What aleth you neighbours, your weapons are bare, but I see not that they be bloody. What is it good man Penethon? Penethon did but groan for all answer, but a stout carl who stood by with a broad grin on his face, answered and said, Face of God, give all tidings be a broad, the strong thieves of the wood-arrest stir, and some deem that the wood-whites be helping them. Ye, and what is the deed they have done? said gold-mane, said the carl. Thou knowest Penethon's abode. Ye surely, said Face of God, fair are the water-meadows about it. Great gain of cheese can be gotten, thence. Has thou been within the house? said the carl. Then, spake Penethon, within his scant gear, we gather for others to scatter, we may meet for others mouths. The carl laughed. Sooth is that, said he, that there is little gear therein now, for the strong thieves avoided both all and bower and buyer. And when was that, said Face of God, the night before last, said the carl. The door was smitten on, and when none answered it was broken down. Ye, quoth Penethon, a host entered and there in arms. No host was within, said the carl. Nought put Penethon and his sister and his sister's son and three carls that worked for him, and one of them, rusty to wit, was the worst man of the hill-country. These, then, the host were of the good-man-telleth bound, but without doing the many scathes. And they ransacked the house, and took away much of the gear, yet left some. Thou liest, said Penethon, they took little and left none. There at all men laughed, for this seemed to them good game. And another man said, Well, neighbour Penethon, if it was so little, thou hast done unneberly in giving us such a heap of trouble about it. And they laughed again, but the first carl said, True is it, good man, that thou wilt exceed in eager to raise the hue and cry after that little when we happed upon thee and the house-mates bound in your chairs yesterday morning. Well, old man's son, short is the tale to tell, we could not fail to follow the gear, and the slot led us into the wood. And ill is the going there for us shepherds who are used to the bare downs. Save Rusty, who was a good woodsman, and lifted the slot for us. So he outwent us all, and ran out to sight of us. So presently we came upon him, dead slain, with a man's slayer spear in his breast. What then could we do but turn back again, for now was the wood blind, now Rusty was dead, and we knew not wither to follow the fray, and the man himself was but little loss. So back we turned and told good man Penethon of all this, for we had left him alone in his hall lamenting his gear. So we bided to day's morn, and have come out now with our silver and the spear, and the dead corpse of Rusty. Stand aside, neighbours, and let the alderman's son see it. They did so, and there was the corpse of a thin-faced, tall, wiry man, somewhat foxy of aspect, lying on a hand beer covered with black cloth. Yeah, face of God, said the Carl. He is not good to see, now he is dead, yet alive was he worse. But, look you, though the man was no man, yet was he of our people, and the feud is with us. So we would see the alderman, and do him wit of the tidings, that he make all the neighbours together to seek a blood-white for Rusty and atonement for the ransacking. Oh, what say us, though? Have you the spear that you found in Rusty, quoth Goldmane? Yeah, verily, said the Carl. Either with it, neighbours, give it to the alderman's son. So the spear came into his hand, waited and said, This is no spear of the smith's work of the dale, as my father will tell you. We take but little keep of the forging of spearheads here, so that they be well tempered, and made so as to ride well on the shaft. But this head, daintily it is wrought, the blood trench as clean and trim as though it were an old sword. See you with all this inlaying of runes on the steel. It is done with no tin or copper, but with very silver. And these ones about the shaft be of silver also. It is a fair weapon, and the owner hath the loss of it greater than he's gained in the slaying of Rusty, and he will have left it in the wound so that he might be known hereafter, and that he might be said not to have murdered Rusty, but to have slain him. For how think ye? They all said that this seem like to be, but that if the man who had slain Rusty were one of the ransackers, they might have a blood white of him if they could find him. Goldman said that so it was, and there with all he gave the shepherds good speed, and went on his way. But they came to Burgstead and found the alderman, and in due time was a court held and a finding uttered, an outlawry given forth for the man slaying, and the ransacking against certain men unknown. As for the spear, it was laid up in the house of the face. But face of God pondered these matters in his mind. For such ransackings there had been none of in late years, and he said to himself that his friends of the mountain must have other folk of which the dalesmen knew not, whose gear they could lift, or how could they live in that place? And he marvelled that they should risk drawing the dalesmen's wrath upon them, whereas they of the dale were strong men not easily daunted, albeit peaceable enough if not stirred to wrath. For in good sooth he had no doubt that spear, whose it was and whence it came. For that very weapon had been leaning against the panel of his shut bed the night he slept on the mountain, and all the other spears that he saw there were more or less of the same fashion and adorned with silver, albeit all that he knew and all that he thought of he kept in his own heart and said nothing of it. So wore the autumn into early winter, and the Westland merchants came through time, and departed without face of God, though his father made him that offer one last time. He went to and fro about his work in the dale, and seemed to most men's eyes, nor changed from what he had been. But the bride noted that he saw her less often than his want was and abode with her a lesser space when he met her, as she could not think what this might mean. Nor had she heart to ask him thereof, though she was sorry and grieved, but rather withdrew her company from him somewhat, and when she perceived that he noted it not and made no question of it, then was she the sorrier. But the first winter snow came on with a great storm of wind from the north-east, so that no man stirred abroad who was not compelled there too, and those who went abroad risked life and limb thereby. Next morning all was calm again and the snow was deep, but it did not end your long, for the wind shifted to the south-west, and the thaw came, and three days after, when folk could fare easily again up and down the dale, came tidings to Burgstead and the Aldermen from the lower dale. How a house called Green Toffs had been ransacked there, and none knew by whom. Now the good man of Green Toffs was little loved of the neighbours. He was grasping and overbearing, and he owed others out of their due. He was very cross-grained, both at home and abroad. His wife had fled from his hand, neither did his sons find it good to abide with him. There with all he was wealthy of goods, a strong man, and a deft man at arms. When his sons and his wife departed from him, and none other of the dales when cared to abide with him, he went down into the plain and got thence men to be with him men who were not well seen to in their own land. These to the number of twelve abode with him and did his bidding when so it pleased them. Two more had he who had been slain by good men of the dale for their masterful ways, and no blood-white had been paid for them because of their ill-doings, though they had not been made outlaws. This man of Green Toffs was called Heartsbane after his father, now the full tidings of the ransacking were these. The storm began two hours before sunset, and an hour thereafter when it was quite dark, who without none could see because the wind was at its height and the drift of snow was hard and full, the whole door flew open, and at first men thought it had been the wind until they saw in the dimness for all lights but the fire on the hearth had been quenched, certain things tumbling in, which at first they deemed were wolves. But when they took swords and staves against them, lo, they were met by swords and axes, and they saw that the seeming wolves were men with wolfskins drawn over them. So the newcomers cowed them that they threw down their weapons and were bound in their places. But when they were bound and had had time to note who the ransackers were, they saw that there were but six of them all told, who had cowed and bound Heartsbane and his twelve masterful men, and this they deemed a great shaming to them as might well be. So then the stead was ransacked, and those wolves took away what they would, and went their ways through the fierce storm, and none could tell whether they had lived or died in it, but at least neither the men nor their prey were seen again. Nor did they leave any slot, for next morning the snow lay deep over everything. No doubt had Goldman, but that these ransackers were his friends of the mountain, but he held his peace abiding till the winter should be over. End of chapter 10 Chapter 11 Of The Roots Of The Mountains by William Morris This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Men make oath at Burgstead on the Holy Boar. A week after the ransacking at Green Toffs the snow and the winter came on in earnest, and all the dale lay in snow, and men went on skids when they fared up and down the dale or on the mountain. All was now tidying less till you'll over, and in Burgstead was their feasting and joyance enough, and especially at the house of the face was High Tide Holden, and the alderman and his sons and stone face, and all the kindred and all their men sat in glorious attire within the hall, and of any others were there of the best of kindreds of Burgstead who had been bidden. Face of God sat between his father and stone face, and he looked up and down the tables and the hall and saw not the bride, and his heart misgave him because she was not there, and he wondered what had befallen and if she was sick of sorrow. But Iron Face beheld him how and he laughed, for he was exceeding Mary that night and fared as a young man. Then he said to his son, whom seekest thou son? Is there someone lacking? Face of God reddened as one who lies unused to it, and said yea, kinsman, so it is that I was seeking the bride, my kinswoman. Nay, said Iron Face, go on and knock, kinswoman, there is it'll look, lest it seem that thou art to wed to nigh thine own blood. Go there the bride only, to thee and to me the name is good. Well, son, desirous thou sorely to see her. Yea, yea, surely, said face of God, but his eyes went all about the hall still, as though his mind strayed from the place and that home of his. Said Iron Face, have patience, son, thou shalt see her and on, and that in such guise as shalt please thee. Then all came the maidens with the ewers of wine, and they filled all the horns and beakers. Then stood by the end-long tables on either side, laughing and talking with the carls and the older women, and the hall was a fair sight to see, for the many candles burned bright, and the fire on the hearth flared up, and those maids were clad in fair raiment, and there was none of them but was comely, and some were fair, and some very fair. The walls also were hung with goodly pictured cloths, and the image of the God of the face looked down smiling terribly from the gable end above the high seat. Thus as they sat, they heard the sound of a horn winded close outside the hall door, and the door was smitten on. Then rose Iron Face, smiling merrily, and cried out, Enter ye, whether ye be friends or foes, for if ye be foremen, yet shall ye keep the holy piece of Yule, unless ye be the foes of all kindreds and nations, and then shall we slay you. There at some who knew what was to odd laughed, but Goldmane, who had been away from Burgstead some days past, marvelled and knit his brows, and let his right hand fall on his sword-hilt. For this folk, who were of merry ways, were want to deal diversely with the Yule-tide customs in the manner of shows, do not that this was one of them. Now was the outer door thrown open, and there entered seven men, whereof two were all armed in bright war-gear, and two bore slug-horns, and two bore up somewhat on a dish, covered over with a piece of red cloth, and the seventh stood before them all wrapped up in a dark ver-mantle. Thus they stood a moment, and when he saw their number, back to Goldmane's heart came the thought of those folk on the mountain, for indeed he was somewhat out of himself for doubt and longing, else would he have deemed that all this was but a Yule-tide play. Now the men with the slug-horns set them to their mouths, and blew a long blast, while the first of the newcomers set hand to the clasps of the fur-cloak, and let it fall to the ground, and lo, a woman exceeding beautious, clad in glistering ornaments of gold and fine web, her hair wreathed with bay, and in her hand a naked sword, with goodly wrought golden hilt, and polished blue gleaming blade. Face of God started up in his seat, and stared like a man, new-wakened from a strange dream, because for one moment he deemed verily that it was the woman of the mountain, a raid as he had last seen her, and he cried the friend, the friend! His father break out into loud laughter there at, and clapped his son on the shoulder, and said here, ye lad, thou mayest well say the friend, that this is thy old playmate, whom thou has been looking round the hall for. A raid this eve in such fashion is his meat for her goodliness and her worthiness. Ye, this is the friend, indeed! Then waxed face of God as red as blood for shame, and sat him down in his place again, for now he wotted what was to awed, and saw that this fair woman was the bride, but stone face from the other side looked keenly on him. Then blew the horn again, and the bride stepped daintily up the hall, and the sweet odor of her raiment went from her about the firewarm dwelling, and her beauty moved all hearts with love. So stood she at the high table, and those two who bore the burden set it down thereon, and drew off the covering. And lo! there was the holy bore of gul, on which men were want to make oath of deeds that they would do in the coming year according to the custom of their forefathers. Then the bride laid the goodly sword beside the dish, and then went round the table, and sat down betwixt face of God and stone face, and turned kindly to gold main, and was glad, for now was his fair face as its want was to be. He in turn smiled upon her, for she was fair and kind, and his fellow for many a day. Now the men at arms stood each beside the bore, and out from them on each side stood the two hornsmen. Then these blew up again, whereon the aldermen stood up and cried, ye sons of the brave who have any deed that she may be desirous doing, come up, come lay your hand on the sword, and the point of the sword to the holy beast, and swear the oath that layeth on your hearts. Therewith he sat down, and there strode a man up the hall, strong-built and sturdy, but short of stature. Black haired, red-bearded, and ruddy faced, and he stood on the dais, and took up the sword, and laid its point on the bore, and said, I am Bristler, son of Breitling, a man of the shepherds. Here, by the holy bore, I swear to follow up the ransackers of Penetham, and the slayers of Rusty, and I take this feud upon me, although they be no good men, because I am of the kin, and it falleth to me, since others forbear. And when the court was hallowed hereon, I was away out of the dale and the downs. So help me, the warrior, and the god of the earth. Then the alderman nodded his head to him kindly, and reached him out a cup of wine, and as he drank there went up a rumour of praise from the hall, and a man said that his oath was manly, and that he was like to keep it, but he was a good man at arms, and a stout heart. Then came up three men of the shepherds, and two of the dale, and swore to help Bristler in his feud, and men thought it well sworn. After that came a braggart, a man very gay of his raiment, and swore with many words that if he lived the year through, he would be a captain over men of the plain, and would come back again with many gifts for his friends in the dale. This men deemed foolishly sworn, for they knew the man, so they jeered at him and laughed as he went back to his place, ashamed. Then swore three others' oaths not hard to be kept, and men were merry. At last up rose the alderman, and said kinsmen, and good fellows, good days are peaceable in the dale as now, and of such days little is the story, and little it availeth to swear a deed of daring do. Yet three things I swear by this beast, and first to gain say no man's asking if I may perform it, and next to set right above law and mercy above custom, and lastly, if the days change and war cometh to us, or we go out to meet it, I will be no backwarder in the onset than three fathoms behind the foremost, so help me the warrior and the god of the face and the holy earth. Therewith he sat down, and all men shouted for joy of him, and said that it was most like that he would keep his oath. Last of all up rose face of god, and took up the sword and looked at it, and so bright was the blade that he saw in it the image of the golden braveries which the bride bore, and even some broken image of her face. Then he handled the hilt, and laid the point on the bore, and cried hereby I swear to wed the fairest woman of the earth before the year is worn to an end, and that whether the dalesmen gain say me, or the men be on the dale, so help me the warrior and the god of the face and the holy earth. Therewith he sat down, and once more men shouted for the love of him and of the bride, and they said he had sworn well and like a chieftain. But the bride noted him that neither were his eyes nor his voice like to their want as he swore, for she knew him well and their acts was she ill at ease, for now whatever was new in him was to her threat of evil to come. Stoneface also noted him, and he knew the young man better than all others saved the bride, and he saw with all that she was ill-pleased, and he said to himself, I will speak to my fosterling tomorrow if I may find him alone. So came the swearing to an end, and they fell on to their meat and feasted on the bore of atonement, after they had duly given the gods their Jew wine went about the hall, and men were merry till they drank the parting cup, and fared to rest in the shut beds, and were so else they might in the hall and the house, for there were many men there. End of chapter 11 CHAPTER 12 OF THE ROOSE OF THE MOUNTAINS By William Morris This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Stoneface telleth concerning the wood whites. Early on the morrow, Goldmane arose and clad himself, and went out adores, and over the trodden snow, on to the bridge over the weltering water, and there betook himself into one of the coins of safety, built over the upstream piles. There he leaned against the wall and turned his face to the Thorpe, and felt a pondering on his case. And first he thought about his oath, and how that he had the mountain woman, although his kindred and her kindred should gain say him, yea, and herself also. Great seemed that oath to him, yet at the moment he wished he had made it greater, and made all the kindred, yea, and the bride herself, sure of the meaning of the words of it, and he deemed himself a daster that he had not done so. Then he looked round him and beheld the winter, and he fell into mere fear that the spring were come, and the token from the mountain. Things seemed too hard for him to deal with, and he between a mighty folk and two wayward women, and he went nigh to wish that he had taken his father's offer and gone down to the cities, and even had he met his bane, well were that. And, as young folk will, he set to work making a picture of his deeds there, had he been there, he showed himself the fight in the plain, and the press and the struggle and the breaking of the sered band, and himself amidst the ring of foremen, doing most valiantly, and falling there at last, his shield o'er heavy with the weight of foremen's spears for a man to uphold it. Then the victory of his folk and the lamentation and praise over the slain man of the mountain dales, and the burial of the valiant warrior, the praising folk meeting him at the city gate, laid stark and cold in his arms on the gold-hung garlanded beer. There ended his dream, and he laughed aloud and said, I am a fool, all this were good and sweet if I should see it myself, and forsooth that is how I am thinking of it, as if I still alive should see myself dead and famous. Then he turned a little, and looked at the houses of the flying dark about the snowy ways, under the starlit heavens of the winter morning. Dark they were indeed, and grey, save were here and there, the half-burned euled fire, reddened the windows of a hall, or where, as in one place, the candle of some early waker, Sean White in a chamber window. There was scarce a man of stir, he deemed, and no sound reached him save the crowing of the cocks muffled by their sound, and a faint sound of beasts in the buyers. Thus he stood a while, his thoughts wandering now, till presently he heard footsteps coming his way down the street, and turned toward them, and lo, it was the old man's stone face. He had seen Goldmayne go out, and had risen and followed him, that he might talk with him apart. Goldmayne greeted him kindly, though soothed to say, he was half content to see him, since he doubted what was verily the case, that his foster father would give him many words, counselling him to refrain from going to the wood. This was loathsome to him, but he spake and said, Me seems, father, that the eastern sky is brightening toward dawn. Yea, quoth stone face. It will be light in an hour, said face of God. Even so, said stone face, and a fair day for the morrow of yule, said the swain. Yea, said stone face, and what will thou do with the fair day? Will thou to the wood? Maybe, father, said Goldmayne. Hall face and some of the swains are talking of elks up the fells, which may be trapped in the drifts, and if they go hunting them, I may go in their company. Ah, son, quoth stone face, thou wilt look to see other kind of beast than elks. We fall in with there, who may not be impounded in the snow like to elks, but can go light foot on the top of the soft drift from one place to another. Said Goldmayne, Father, fear me not. I shall either refrain me from the wood, or if I go, I shall go to hunt the wooddeer with the other hunters. But since thou hast come to me, tell me more about the wood, for thy tales thereof are fair. Yea, said stone face. Those are foul things, as oft it befalleth in the world. Harken now, if thou demest that what thou seekest shall come reddier to thy hand, because of the winter and the snow, thou urrest. For the whites that way lay the bodies and souls of the mighty in the wild wood, heed such matters nothing. Yea, and at Yuletide are they most abroad, and most armed for the fray. Even such an one have I seen timer gone, when the snow was deep rough, and it was in the likeness of a woman, clad in such raiment as the bride bore last night, and she trod in the snow light-foot in thin raiment, where it would scarce bear the skids of a deft snow-runner. Even so, she stood before me, the icy wind blew her raiment round about her, and drifted the hair from her garland it had toward me, and she as fair and fresh is in the midsummer days. Up the fell she fared, sweetest of all things to look on, and beckoned on me to follow. On me, the warrior, the stout heart, and I followed, and between us grief was born. But I it was that fostered that child, and not she. Always when she would be, was she merry and lovely, and even so is she now, for she is one of those that be long lived, and I watch that thou has seen even such a one. Tell me more of thy tales, foster father, said goldmane, and fear not for me. Ah, son, he said, mayst thou have no such tales to tell to those that shall be young when thou art old. Yet harken, we sat in the hall together, and there was no third, and me thought that the birds sang and the flowers bloomed, and sweet was their savor, though it was midwinter. Her rose wreath was on her head, and fair unwrinkled summer apples on the day that we feasted together. When was the feast, saist thou? Long ago. What was the hall, thou saist, wherein ye feasted? I know not if it were on the earth or under it, or if we rode the clouds that even. But on the morrow, what was there but the stark wood, and the drift of the snow, and the iron wind howling through the branches, and a lonely man, a wanderer from the ground, a wanderer through the wood and up the fell, and up the high mountain, and up and up to the edges of the ice-river and the green caves of the ice-hills, a wanderer in spring, in summer, autumn and winter, with an empty heart and a burning never-satisfied desire, who had seen in the uncouth places many an evil and manly shape, many a foul hag and changing ugly semblance, who had suffered hunger and thirst, and wounding and fever, and had seen many things, but have never again seen that fair woman or that lovely feast-hall. All praise and honour to the house of the face, and the bounteous valiant men thereof, and the like praise and honour to the fair women whom they wed at the valiant and goodly house of the steer. Even so say I, quoth gold main calmly, but now when we are back to the house, for it is morning indeed, and folk will be stirring there. So they turned from the bridge together, and Stoneface was kind and fatherly, and was telling his foster son many wise things concerning the life of a chieftain, and the giving out of dooms, and the gathering for battle, to all of which talk, face of God seemed to harken gladly, but indeed, harken not at all. For verily his eyes were beholding that snowy waste, and the fair woman upon it, even such an one as Stoneface had told of. End of Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Of The Roots of the Mountains by William Morris This Librivox recording is in the public domain. They fare to the hunting of the elk. When they came into the hall, the hearthfire had been quickened, and the sleepers on the floor had been opened, and all folk were astir. So the old man sat down by the hearth, while Goldmayne busied himself in fetching wood and water, and in sweeping out the hall, and other such works of the early morning. In a little while, while Hallface and the other men and warriors were a foot, duly clad, and the old man came from his chamber, and greeted all men kindly. Soon meat was set upon the boards, and men broke their fast, and day dawned while they were about it, and ere it was all done, the sun rose clear and golden, so that all men knew that the day would be fair, for the frost seemed hard and enduring. Then the eager young men and the hunters, and those who knew the mountain best, drew together about the hearth, and fell to talking of the hunting of the elk. And there were three there, who knew both the woods, and also the fells, right up to the ice rivers, better than any other, and these said that they who were fain of the hunting of the elk would have no likelier time than that day for a year to come. Short was the reed betwixt them, for they said they would go to the work at once, and make the most of the short winter daylight, so they went each to his place, and some outside that house to their father's houses, to fetch each man his gear. Face of God for his part, went to his shut bed, and stood by his chest and opened it, and drew out of it a fine whore-burk of ring-mail, which his father had made for him. For though Face of God was a deft right, he was not by a long way so deft as his father, who was the deftest of all men of that time and country, so that the alien merchants would give him what he would for his whore-burks and helms, when so he would chaffer with them, which was but seldom. So Face of God did on this whore-burk above his kirtle, and over it he cast his foul weather-weed so that none might see it. He gored a strong war-sword to his side, cast his quiver over his shoulder, and took his bow in his hand, although he had little lust to shoot elks that day, even as Stoneface had said. There with all he took his skids, and went forth of the hall to the gate of the Burg, where two gathered the whole company of twenty-three and gold-main the twenty-fourth. And each man there had his skids and his bow-and-quiver, and what so other weapon, a short-sword or wood-knife or axe, seemed good to him. So they went out a gate and clumbed the stairway and the cliff, which led to the ancient watchtower, for it was on the lower slopes of the fells which lay near to the weltering water that they looked to find the elks, and this was the nicest road there too. When they had gotten to the top they lost no time, but went their ways nearly due east, making way easily where there were but scattered trees close to the lip of the sheer cliffs. They went merrily on their skids over the close lying snow, and were soon upon the great shoulders of the fells that went up from the bank of the weltering water. At noon they came into a little dale, wherein were a few trees, and there they abided to eat their meat, making for themselves tables and benches of the drifted snow, and piling it up to windward as a defence against the wind, which had now arisen little but bitter from the southeast, so that some, and they the wisest, began to look for foul weather, wherefore they tarried the shorter while in the said dale or hollow. But they were scarcely on their way again before the aforesaid southeast wind began to grow bigger, and at last flew a gale, and brought up with it a drift of fine snow, through which they yet made their way but slowly, so the drift grew so thick that they could not see each other five paces apart. Then before they made stay, and gathered together under a bent, which by good luck they happened upon, where they were sheltered from the worst of the drift. There they abode, till in less than an hour's space the drift abated, and the wind fell, and in a little while after it was quite clear, with the sun shining brightly and the young waxing moon white and high up in the heavens, and the frost was harder than ever. This seemed good to them, but now that they could see each other's faces they fell to telling over their company, and there was non-missing, save face of God. They were somewhat dismayed there at, but knew not what to do, and they deemed he might not be far off, either a little behind or a little ahead. And Hallface said, There is no need to make this to do about my brother, he can take good care of himself. Neither does a warrior of the face die because of a little cold and frost and snowdrift. With all, Goldman is a willful man, and of late days have been willful beyond his want. Let us now find the elks. So they went on their ways hoping to fall in with him again. No long story need be made of their hunting path and where they had taken shelter they came upon the elks, many of them impounded by the drifts, pretty much where the deft hunters looked to find them. There was then a battle between the elks and the men till the beasts were all slain and only one man hurt. Then they made them slays from wood which they found in the hollows there by, and they laid the carcasses there on, and so turned their faces homeward, dragging their prey with them. But they met not face of God either there or on the way home, and Hallface said, maybe Goldman will lie on the fell tonight and I would I were with him for adventures often before such folk when they abide in the wilds. Now it was late at night by then they reached Burgstead, so laden as they were with the dead beasts. But they heeded the night little for the moon was well nigh as bright as day for them, but when they came to the gate of the Thorpe they were assembled the good men and swains to meet them with torches and wine in their honor. There also was Goldman come back before them, yea for these two hours, and he stood clad in his holiday raiment and smiled on them. Then there was some jeering at him that he was come back empty-handed from the hunting, and that he was not able to abide the wind and the drift, but he laughed there at for all this was but game and play since men knew him for a keen hunter of stout woodsmen, and they had deemed it a heavy loss of him if he had been cast away as some feared he had been. And his brother whole face embraced him and kissed him and said to him, Now the next time that thou fairest to the wood will I be with thee foot to foot and never leave thee, and then me seamoth I shall what of the tale that hath befallen thee, and be like it shall be no sorry one. Face of God laughed and answered but little, and they all betook them to the house of the face and held high feasts therein for as late as the night was in honour of this hunting of the elk. No man cared to question face of God closely as to how or where he had strayed from the hunt for he had told his own tale at once as soon as he came home to it that his right foot skid strap had broken and even while he stopped to mend it came on that drift and weather and that he could not move from that place without losing his way and that when it had cleared he knew not whither they had gone because the snow had covered their slot so he deemed it not unlike that they had gone back and that he might come up with one or two on the way and that in any case he wotted well that they could look after themselves so he turned back not going very swiftly all this seemed like enough and a little matter except to just about so no man made any question concerning it only old stone face said to himself now were I feigned to have a true tale out of him but it is little likely that anything shall come of my much questioning and it is ill forcing a young man to tell lies so he held his peace and the feast went on merrily and blithely End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 of the Roots of the Mountains by William Morris this Librivox recording is in the public domain concerning face of God and the mountain but it must be told of gold main that what had befallen him was in this wise his skid strap break in Good Soothe and he stayed to mend it but when he had done what was needful he looked up and saw no man nigh what for the drift and that they had gone on somewhat so he rose to his feet and without more delay instead of keeping on toward the elk ground and the way his face had been set he turned himself north and by east and went his ways swiftly towards that airt because he deemed that it might lead him to the mountain hall where he had guested he abode not for the storm to clear but swept off through the thick of it and indeed the wind was somewhat at his back so that he went the swiftly but when the drift was gotten to its very worst he sheltered himself for a little in a hollow behind a thorn bush he stumbled upon as soon as it began to abate he went on again and at last when it was quite clear and the sun shone out he found himself on a long slope of the fells covered deep with smooth white snow and at the higher end a great crag rising bare fifty feet above the snow and more rocks but none so great and broken ground as he judged the snow being deep about it on the hither side and on the further three great pine trees all bent down and mingled together by their load of snow thitherward he made as a man might seeing nothing else to note before him but he had not made many strides when forth from behind the crag by the pine trees came a man and at first face of God thought it might be one of his hunting fellows gone astray and he hailed him in a loud voice but as he looked he saw the sun flash back from a bright helm on the newcomer's head albeit he kept on his way so there was but a space of two hundred yards between them went low the helm bearer notched a shaft to his bent bow and loosed at face of God the arrow came whistling and passed six inches by his right ear then face of God stopped perplexed with his case but he was on the deep snow in his skids with his bow and bent and he knew not how to bend it speedily he was loath to turn his back and flee and indeed he scarce deemed that it would help him meanwhile of his tarrying the archer loosed again at him at this time the shaft flew close to his left ear then face of God thought to cast himself down into the snow but he was ashamed till there came a third shaft which flew over his head amid most and close to it good shooting on the mountain muttered he the next shaft will be amidst my breast and who knows whether the oldman's handiwork will keep it out so he cried aloud thou shootest well brother but art thou a foe if thou art I have a sword by my side so hast thou come hither to me and let us fight it out friendly if we must needs fight a laugh came down the wind to him clear but somewhat shrill and the archer came swiftly towards him on his skids with no weapon in his hand save his bow so that face of God did not draw his sword but stood wondering as they drew nearer he beheld the face of the newcomer and deemed that he had seen it before and soon for all that it was hooded close by the ill weather raiment he perceived it to be the face of ruddy and smiling she laughed out loud again as she stopped herself within three feet of him and said we heard of the elks and looked to see the hereabouts and I knew thee at once when I came out from behind the crag and saw thee stand bewildered said goldman hail to thee bome and glad am I to see thee but thou liest in saying that thou newest me else why didst thou shoot those three shafts at me not so quick as that with all thy friends these be sharp greetings of you mountain folk thou lad with the sweet mouth she said I like to see thee and hear thee talk but now must I hasten thy departure so stand we here no longer let us get down into the wood where we can do off our skids and sit down and then will I tell thee the tidings come on and she caught his hand in hers and they went speedily down the slopes of the great oak wood the wind whistling past their ears whether are we going said he said she I am to surely the way back home which thou will not know surely amidst this snow come no words thou shall not have my tail for me till we are in the wood so the sooner we are there the sooner shall thou be pleased so face of God held his peace and they went on swiftly side by side it was not Beaumé's want to be silent for long so presently she said thou art good to do as I bid thee but see thou sweet playmate for all thou art achieved and sun thou wert but feather-brained to ask me why I shot at thee I shoot at thee that were a fine tale to tell her this even or dost thou think that I could shoot at a big man on the snow at two hundred paces and miss him three times unless I aim to miss yay Beaumé said he thou shall be my company when so I fare to battle indeed she said therein thou sayest but the bare truth no where else shall I be and thou shall find my bow no worse than a good shield he laughed somewhat lightly but she looked on him soberly and said laugh in that fashion on the day of battle and we shall be very well content with thee so on they spared very swiftly their way was mostly downhill so that they were soon amongst the outskirting trees of the wood and presently after reached the edge of the thicket beyond which the ground was but thinly covered with snow there they took off their skids and went into the thick wood and sat down under a horn-beam tree and ere Goldmane could open his mouth to speak Beaumé began and said well it was that I fell in with thee dalesman else had there been murders of men to tell of but ever she ordereth all things wisely though unwisely has thou done to seek her Harken dost thou think that thou has done well that thou hast me here with my tail well has thou busied thyself with the slaying of Elks who is sitting quietly at home yet shouldest thou have heard my tail and thou shouldest have seen me in Burgstead in a day or two to tell thee concerning the flitting of the token it is that I had missed it for feign had I been to behold the house of the face and to have seen thee sitting there in thy dignity amidst the kindred of chieftains and she sighed therewith but he said hold up thine heart Beaumé on the word of a true man that shall befall thee one day but come playmates give me my tail yes she said I must now tell thee in the wild wood what else I had told thee in the hall Harken closely for this is the message seek not to me again till thou has the token else assuredly wilt thou be slain and I shall be sorry for many a day thereof as now I may not tell thee more now as to the token when march is worn two weeks fail not to go to and fro on the place of the maiden ward for an hour before sunrise every day till thou bear tidings now quoth bore me as thou Harken done understood ye said he she said then tell me the words of my message concerning the token and he did so word for word then she said it is well there's no more to say now must I lead thee till thou know us the wood and then mayst thou get on to the smooth snow again so home merrily yet thou great eyed fellow I pay of thee before I do that last work therewith she turned about to him and took his head between her hands and kissed him well favouredly both cheeks and mouth and she laughed albeit the tears stood in her eyes as she said now smell of the wood sweeter and summer will come back again and even thus will I do once more when we stand side by side in battle array he smiled kindly on her and nodded as they both rose up from the earth she had taken off her foul weather gloves while they spake and he kissed her hand which was shapely of fashion albeit somewhat brown and hard of palm and he said in a friendly wise thou art a merry faring fellow bore me and be like shall be with all a true fighting fellow come now thou shall be my sister and I thy brother in despite of those three shafts of snow he laughed therewith she laughed not but seemed glad and said sobly yes I may well be thy sister for be like I also am of the people of the gods who've come into these dales by many far ways I am of the house of the ragged sword of the kindred of the wolf come brother let us walk toward wild lakes way therewith she went before him and led through the thicket by an assured and wanted path and he followed hard at heal but his thought went from her for a while for those words of brother and sister that he had spoken called to his mind the bride and their kindness of little children and the days when they seemed to have not to do but to make the sun brighter and the flowers fairer and the grass greener and the birds happier each for the other and a hard and evil thing it seemed to him that now he should be making all these things nought and dreary to her now when he had become a man and deed slay before him yet again was he solaced by what Bome had said concerning battle to come for he deemed that she must have had this from the friends foreseeing and he long saw for deeds to do wherein all these things might be cleared up and wash and clean as it were so passed they through the wood a long way and it was getting dark therein and goldmane said hold now Bome, for I am at home here she looked around and said yes so it is I was thinking of many things farewell and live mere little march comes and the token therewith she turned and went her ways and was soon out of sight and he went lightly through the wood and then on skids over the hard snow along the dale's edge till he was come to the watchtower when the moon was bright in heaven thus was he at Burgstead and the house of the face be times and before the hunters were gotten back end of chapter 14 chapter 15 of the roots of the mountains by William Morris this Librivox recording is in the public domain murder amongst the folk of the woodlanders so wore away midwinter tidingless stone face spake no more to face of God about the wood and its whites when he saw that the young man had come back hail and merry and seemed not to crave over much to go back with her as for the bride she was sad and more than mist doubted all but dauntless as she was in matters that try men's hardyhood she yet lacked heart to ask of face of God what had befallen him since the autumn tide or where he was with her so she put a force upon herself not to look sad or craving when she was in his company as full off she was for he rather sought her than shunned her for when he saw her thus he deemed things were changing with her as they had changed with him and he bethought him of what he had spoken to Bome and deemed that even so he might speak with the bride when the time came and that she would not be grieved beyond measure and all would be well now came on the Thor the snow went and the grass grew all up and down the dale and all waters were big and about this time arose rumours of strange men in the wood uncouth, vile and murderous and many of the feebler sorts were made timorous thereby but a little before March was born came new tidings from the woodlanders to it there came on a time to the house of a woodland Carl, a worthy goodman well renowned of all fairers in the first watch of the night and these men said that they were wending down to the plain from a far away dale, rose dale to it, which all men had heard of and that they had strayed from the way and were exceeding weary and they craved a meal's meat and lodging for the night this the goodman might no wise gain say and he saw no harm in it wherefore he bade them abide and be merry these men, said they who told the tidings were outlanders and no man had seen any like them before they were armed and bore short bows made of horn and round targets and coats of fence done over with hornscales they had crooked swords good to their sides and axes of steel forged all in one piece right good weapons they were clad in scarlets and had much silver on their raiment and about their weapons and great rings of the same on their arms and all this silver seemed brand new now the woodland Carl gave them of such things as he had and was kind and blithe to them they were in his house besides himself five men of his sons and kindred and his wife and three daughters and two other maids so they feasted after the woodlanders fashion and went to bed a little before midnight two hours after the Carl awoke and heard a little stir and saw the guests on their feet amidst the hall clad in all their war gear and they had betwixt them his two youngest daughters maids of fifteen and twelve winters and had bound their hands and done clout over their mouths so that they might not cry out and they were just at point to carry them off they're at the good man naked as he was caught up his sword and made at these murder cars and or ever they were aware of him he had hewn down one and turned to face the other who smote at him with his steel axe and gave him a great wound on the shoulder and there with all fled out at the open door and forth into the wood the woodlander made no stay to raise the cry there was no need for the hall was a stir now from end to end and men getting to their weapons but ran out after the felon even as he was and in spite of his grievous hurt he ran him no long way from the house before he had gotten into the thicket but the man was nimble and strong and the good man unsteady from his wound and by then the others of the household came up with the hue and cry he had gotten two more sore wounds and was just making an end of throttling the felon with his bare hands so he fell into their arms fainting from weakness and for all they could do he died in two hours time that axe wound in his shoulder and another on the side of the head and a knife thrust in his side and he was a man of sixty winters but the stranger he had slain outright and the one whom he had smitten in the hall died before the dawn thrusting all help aside and making no sound of speech when these tidings came to Burgstead they seemed great to all men and to gold main more than all so he and many others took their weapons and fared up to Wild Lake's way and so came to the Woodland Carls but the Woodlanders had borne out the carcasses of those felons and laid them on the green before Woodgrey's door for that was the name of the dead good man and they were saying that they would not bury such a cursed folk but would bear them a little way so that they should not be vexed with the stink of them and cast them into the thicket for the wolf and the wildcat to deal with and they should lie there weapons and silver and all and they deemed its base to strip such wretches for who would wear their raiments or bear their weapons after them there was a great ring of folk round about them when they of Burgstead drew near and they shouted for joy to see their neighbours and made way before them then the dalesmen cursed these murderers who had slain so good a man and they all praised his manliness as he ran out into the night naked and wounded after his foe and had fallen like his folk of old time it was a bright spring afternoon in that clearing of the wood and they looked at the two dead men closely and Goldmayne who had been somewhat silent and moody till then became merry and wordy for he beheld the men and saw that they were utterly strange to him they were short of stature crooked-legged strong for their size with small blue eyes snub-nosed wide-mouthed thin-lipped very swarthy of skin exceedingly foul of favour he and all others wondered who they were and whence they came for never had they seen their like and the woodlanders who often guested outlanders straight from the way of diverse kindreds and nations said also that none such had they ever seen but Stoneface who stood by Goldmayne shook his head and quoth he the wild would holdeth many marvels and these be of them the spawn of evil whites quickeneth therein and as other wiles it melted away again like the snow so may it be with these carcasses and some of the older folk of the woodlanders who stood by harkened what he said and deemed his words wise for they remembered their ancient lore and many a tale of old time thereafter they of Burgstead went into Woodgrace Hall or as many of them as might for it was but a poor place and not right great there they saw the good man laid out on the dais in all his war gear under the last tie-beam of his hall where on was carved amidst much goodly work of knots and flowers and twining stems the image of the wolf of the waist his jaws open and gaping the wife and daughters of the good man and other women of the folk stood about the beer singing some old song in a low voice and some sobbing there with all for the man was very much beloved and much people of the woodlanders was in the hall and it was somewhat dusk within so the Burgstead men greeted that folk kindly and humbly and again they felt appraising the dead man saying how his deed should long be remembered in the dale and wide about and the women hearkened and ceased their crooning and their sobbing and stood up proudly and raised their heads with gleaming eyes and as the words of the Burgstead men ended they lifted up their voices and sang loudly and clearly standing together in a row ten of them on the dais of that poor hall facing the gable and the wolf adorned tie-beam heeding knots as they sang behind them and this is some of what they sang why sit ye bare in the spinning-room why weave ye naked at the loom bare and white as the moon we be that the earth and the drifting nights may see now what is the worst of all your work what curse amidst the web shall lurk the worst of the work our hand shall win his rack and ruin round the kin shall the woolen yarn and the flaxen thread be gear for living men or dead the woolen yarn and the flaxen thread shall flare, twix, living men and dead oh, what is the ending of your day when shall ye rise and wend away our day shall end tomorrow morn when we hear the voice of the battle-horn wherefore shall eyes of men behold this weaving of the moonlight cold there where the alien-host abides the gathering on the mountain-sides how long aloft shall the fair web fly when the bows are bent and the spears are bent from eve to morn and morn till eve aloft shall fly the work we weave what then is this the web ye win what wood-beast waxeth stark therein we weave the wolf and the gift of war from the men that were to the men that are so sang they, and much were all men moved at their singing and there was none but call to mind the old days of the fathers and the years when their banners were in vain but the woodlanders feasted them of Burgstead, what they might and then went the dalesmen back to their houses but on the morrow's morrow they fared dither again and wood-grey was laid in mound amidst a great assemblage of the folk many men said that there was no doubt that these two felons were of the company of those who had ransacked the steds of Penetham and Hartzbane and so at first they went to the house of Penetham and Hartzbane and so at first deemed Bristler the son of Breitling but after a while when he had had time to think of it he changed his mind but he said that such men as these would have slain first and ransacked afterwards and some who loved neither Penetham nor Hartzbane said that they would not have been at the pains to choose for ransacking the two worst men about the dale whose loss was no loss to any but themselves as for Goldimane he knew not what to think except that his friends of the mountain had not to do with it so wore the days a while End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of the Roots of the Mountains by William Morris this LibriVox recording is in the public domain the bride speaketh with faith sub-god February had died into March and March was now 12 days old on a fair and sunny day an hour before noon and a face of God was in a meadow a scant mild down the dale from Burgstead he had been driving a bull into a good man's buyer nearby and had had to spend toil and patience both in getting him out of the fields and into the buyer for the beast was hot with the spring days and the new grass so now he was resting himself in happy mood in an exceeding pleasant place a little meadow to wit on one side whereop was a great orchard or grove of sweet chestnuts which went right up to the feet of the southern cliffs across the meadow ran a clear brook towards the weltering water free from big stones in some places dammed up for the flooding of the deep pasture meadow and with the grass growing on its lips down to the very water there was a low bank just outside the chestnut trees but no one had raised a dike about them when they were young which had been trodden low and spreading through the laps of years by the faring of many men and beasts the prim roses bloomed thick upon it now and here and there along it was a low blackthorn bush in full blossom from the mid meadow and right down to the lip of the brook was the grass well nigh hidden by the blossoms of the meadow saffron with daffodils sprinkled out amongst them and in the trees and bushes the birds and chiefly the blackbirds were singing their loudest there sat face of god on the bank resting after his toil and happy was his mood since in two days wearing he should be pacing the maiden ward awaiting the token that was to lead him to shadowy veil so he sat calling to mind the friend as he had last seen her striving as it were to set her image standing on the flowery grass before him till all the beauty of the meadow seemed bare and empty to him without her then it fell into his mind that this had been a beloved tristing place betwixt him and the bride and often when they were little would they come to gather chestnuts in the grove and thereafter sit and prattle on the old dyke or in spring when the season was warm would they go barefoot into the brook seeking its treasures of troutlets and flowers and clean washed agate pebbles yea and time not long ago had they met here to talk as lovers and sat on that very bank in all the kindness of good days without a blemish and both he and she had loved the place well for its wealth of blossoms and deep grass and goodly trees and clear running stream as he thought of all this and how often there he had praised himself her beauty which he scarce dared to praise to her he frowned and slowly rose to his feet and turned toward the chestnut grove as though he would go thence that way but or ever he stepped down from the dyke he turned about again and even therewith like the very image and ghost of his thought low the bride herself coming up from out the brook and wending toward him her wet naked feet gleaming in the sun as they trod down the tender meadow saffron and brushed past the tufts of daffodils he stood staring at her discomforted from that day he had much to think of that seemed happy to him and he deemed that she would now question him and his mind pondered diverse ways of answering her and none seemed good to him she drew near and let her skirts fall over her feet to see him her gown him dragging over the flowers then she stood straight up before him and greeted him but reached not forth her hand to him nor touched him her face was paler than its once and her voice trembled as she spoke to him and said face of god I would ask thee a gift all gifts he said that thou mayest ask and I may give lie open to thee she said time comes this gift thou mayest well give me sweet kinswoman said he tell me what it is that thou wouldst have of me and he was ill at ease as he waited for her answer she said kinsman kinsman woe on the day that maketh kinship accursed to me because thou desirest it he held his peace and was exceeding sorry and she said this is the gift that I ask of thee there are days to come when thou art wedded thou wilt give me the second man-child whom thou begetst he said this shall thou have and would that I might give thee much more would that we were little children together once again as when we played here in other days she said I would have a token of thee that thou shalt show to the god and swear on it to give me the gift for the times change what token wilt thou have said he she said when next thou farest to the wood thou shalt bring me back it may be a flower from the bank he sits upon a splinter from the dais of the hall wherein ye feast or may be a ring or some matter that the strangers I want to wear that shall be the token she spoke slowly hanging her head a down but she lifted it presently and looked into his face and said woe is me, gold-main how evil is this day when bewailing me I may not bewail thee also for I know that thine heart is glad all through the winter have I kept this hidden in my heart and durst not speak to thee but now the spring tide hath driven me to it let summer come and who shall say great was his grief and his shame kept him silent and he had no word to say and again she said tell me, gold-main when goest thou thither he said I know not surely, may happen in two days may happen in ten why ask us thou oh friend is it a new thing that I should ask thee whether thou goest and whence thou comeest and the times of thy coming and going fare well today forget not the token woe is me that I may not kiss thy fair face she spread her arms abroad and lifted up her face as one who waileth but no sound came from her lips then she turned about and went away as she had come but as for him he stood there after she was gone in all confusion as if he were undone but he felt his manhood lessened that he should thus and so sorely have hurt a friend and in a manner against his will and yet he was somewhat roth with her that she had come upon him so suddenly and spoken to him with such mastery and in so few words and he with none to make answer to her that she had so marred his pleasure and his hope of that fair day then he sat him down again on the flowery bank and little by little his heart softened and he once more called to mind many a time when they had been there before and the plays and the games they had had together there when they were little and he bethought him of the days that were long to him then and now seem short to him and as if they were all grown together into one story and that a sweet one then his breast heaved with a sub and the tears rose to his eyes and burned and stung him and he fell a weeping for that sweet tale and wept as he had wept once before on that old dyke when there had been some child's quarrel between them and she had gone away and left him then after a while he ceased his weeping and looked about him lest anyone might be coming and then he arose and went to and fro in the chestnut grove for a good while and afterwards went his ways from that meadow saying to himself yet remaineth to me the morrow of tomorrow and that is the first of the days of the watching for the token but all that day he was slow to meet the eyes of men and in the hall that eve he was silent and moody for from time to time it came over him that some of his manhood had departed from him End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Of The Roots Of The Mountains by William Morris This LibriVox recording is in the public domain The token cometh from the mountain The next day wore away tidingsless and the day after face of God arose betimes for it was the first day of his watch and he was at the maiden ward before the time appointed on a very fair and bright morning and he went to and fro on that place and had no tidings so he came away somewhat cast down and said within himself is it but a lie and a mocking when all is said on the morrow he went thither again and the morn was wild and stormy with drift of rain and low clouds hurrying over the earth though for the sunrise they lifted a little in the east and the sun came over the passes amidst the red and angry rack of clouds This morn also gave him no tidings of the token and he was wroth and perturbed in spirit but towards evening he said it is well ten days she gave me so that she might be able to send without fail on one of them she will not fail me so again on the morrow he was there betimes and the morn was windy as on the day before but the clouds higher and have better promise for the day Face of God walked to and fro on the maiden ward and as he turned toward Burgstead for the tenth time he heard as he deemed a bow string twang a far off and even therewith came a shaft flying heavily like a winged bird which smote a great standing stone on the other side of the way whereof some chieftain had been buried and fell to earth at its foot He went up to it and handled it and saw that there was a piece of thin parchment wrapped about it which indeed he was eager to unwrap at once but for bore because he was on the highway and people were already astir and even then passed by him a man of his going a field together and they gave him the seal of the day so he went along the highway a little till he came to a place where was a foot bridge over into the meadow he crossed there by and went swiftly till he reached a rising ground grown over with hazel trees there he sat down among the rabbit holes the primrose and the wild garlic blooming about him and three blackbirds answering one another from the edges of the coppice straight away when he had looked and seen none coming he broke the threads that were bound about the scroll and the arrow and unrolled the parchment and there was writing thereon in black ink of small letters but very fair and this is what he read therein come thou to the mountain hall by the path which thou knowest of on the morrow of the day whereon thou readest this rise be times and come armed for there are other men than we in the wood to whom thy death should be again when thou art come to the hall thou shalt find no man therein but a great hound only tied to a bench neither dais calling by his name show foot to it and give him to eat from the meat upon the board and give him water to drink if the day is then far spent as it is like to be abide thou with hound in the hall through the night and eat of what thou shalt find there but see that the hound fares not abroad till the morrow's morn then lead him out and bring him to the north-east corner of the hall and he shall lift the slot for thee that leadeth to the shadowy veil follow him and all good go with thee now when he had read this earth seemed fair indeed about him and he scarce knew wither to turn or what to do to make the most of his joy he presently went back to Burgstead and into the house of the face where all men were a stir now and the day was clearing he hid the shaft under his curtle for he would not that any should see it so he went to his shut bed and laid it up in his chest wherein he kept his chiefest treasures but the writing on the scroll he set in his bosom and so hid it he went joyfully and proudly as one who knoweth more tidings and better than those around him but stone face beheld him and said Dostoson thou art happy is it that the spring tide is in thy blood and makeeth thee blithe with all things that hath thou some new tidings nay, I would not have an answer out of thee but here is a good read when next thou goest into the wood it would not so ill for thee to have a valiant old carl by thy side one that loveth thee and would die for thee if need were one who might watch when thou were't seeking or else beware for there are evil things abroad in the wood and moreover the brethren of those two felons who were slain at Carlstead then Goldmayne constrained himself to answer the old carl softly and he thanked him kindly for his offer and said so it should be before long so the talk between them fell and stone face went away some what perhaps stone face went away some what well pleased and now was face of God become wary and he would not draw men's eyes and speech on him so he went afield with hall face to deal with the lambs and the ewes and did like other men no less wary was he in the hall that even and neither spake much nor little and when his father spaked him concerning the bride and made game of him with a fluggish groom he did not change countenance but answered likely what came to hand on the morrow ere the earliest dawn he was afoot and he clad himself and did on his horberk his father's work which was fine wrought and a stout defence and reached down to his knees and over that he did on a goodly green kirtle well embroidered he gird his war sword to his side his father's father had a very good sword it's name was Dale Warden he did a good helm on his head and slung a targe at his back and took two spears in his hand short but strong shaft and well steeled the serade he left Burgstead before the dawn and came to Wildlake's way and he took him to the woodland he made no stop or stay on the path but ate his meat standing by an oak tree close by the half blind track when he came to the little wood lawn where there was the toft of the ancient house he looked all round about him for he deemed that a likely place for those ugly wood whites to set on him but nor befell him though he stooped and drank of the woodland drill warily enough so he passed on and there were other places also where he fared warily because they seemed like to hold working felons though for sooth the whole wood might well serve their turn but no evil befell him and at last when it yet lacked an hour to sunset he came to the wood lawn where Wildwara had made his onset that other eve he went straight up to the house his heart beating and he scarce believing but that he should find the friend abiding him there but when he pushed the door he gave way before him at once and he entered and found no man therein and the walls stripped bare and no shield or weapon hanging onto the panels but the hound he saw tied to a bench neither dais and the bristles on the beast's neck arose and he snarled on face of God and strained his leaven leash then face of God went up to him and called him by his name Shorfoot and gave him his hand to lick and he brought him water and fed him with flesh from the meat on the board so the beast became friendly and wagged his tail and whined and slobbered his hand then he went all about the house and saw and heard no living thing therein save the mice in the panels and Shorfoot so he came back to the dais and sat him down at the board and ate his fill finding his case and it came into his mind that the woman of the mountain had some deed for him to do which would try his manliness and exalt his fame and his heart rose high and he was glad and he saw himself sitting beside her on the dais of a very fair hall beloved and honoured of all the folk and none had ought to say against him or owed him any grudge to himself in thinking of the good days to come sitting there till the hall grew dusk and dark and the night wind moaned about it then after a while he arose and raked together the brands on the half and made light in the hall and looked to the door and he found there were bolts and bars there too so he shot the bolts and drew the bars into their places and made all as sure as might be then he brought a sure foot down from the dais and tied him up so that he might lie down and thwart the door and then lay down in his horbrick with his naked sword ready to his hand and slept a long while when he awoke it was darker than when he had lain him down for the moon had set yet he deemed that the day was at the point of breaking so he fetched water and washed the night off him and saw a little glimmer of the dawn then he ate somewhat of the meat on the board and did on his helm and his other gear and unbarred the door and led sure foot without and brought him to the north east corner of the house and in a little while he lifted the slot and they departed the man and the hound just as dawn broke from over the mountains sure foot led right into the heart of the pinewood and it was dark enough therein with naught but a feeble glimmer for some while and long was the way there through but in two hours space there was something of a break and they came to the shore of a dark deep tarn on whose windlass and green waters the daylight shone fully the hound skirted the water and led on unchecked till the trees began to grow smaller and the air colder for all that the sun was higher for they had been going up and up all the way so at last after a six hours journey they came clean out of the pinewood and before them lay the black wilderness of the bare mountains and beyond them looking quite near now the great ice peaks the wall of the world it was but an hour short of noon by this time and the high sun shone down on a barren boggy moss which lay betwixt them and the rocky waste shorefoot made no stay but threaded the ways that went betwixt the quagmiers and in another hour led face of god into a winding valley blinded by great rocks and everywhere stony and rough with a trickle of water running amidst of it the hound fared on up the dale to where the water was bridged by a great fallen stone and so over it an upper steep bent on the further side onto a marvellously rough mountain neck wiles mere black sand cumbered with scattered rocks and stones wiles beset with mayers grown over with the cottony maya grass here and there a little scanty grass growing other where nought but dwarf willow ever dying ever growing mingled with moss or red blossoms sangrene and all blending together into mere desolation few living things they saw there upon the neck a few sheep were grazing the scanty grass but there was none to tend them yet face of god deemed the sight of them good for there must be men and I who own them for the rest the whimbrel laughed across the mayers high up in heaven a great eagle was hanging once and again a grey fox leapt up before them and the heathfowl whirred up from under face of god's feet a raven who was sitting croaking on a rock in that first dale stirred on easily on his perch as he saw them and when they were past flapped his wings and flew after them croaking still now they fared over that neck somewhat east making but slow way because the ground was so broken and rocky and in another hour's space shorefoot led downhill due east to where the stony neck sank into another desolate mirey heath still falling toward the east but whose further side was walled by a rampart of crags cleft at their tops into marvellous shapes coal black ungrassed and unmost thitherward the hound led straight and gold main followed wondering as he drew near them he saw that they were not very high they were big scant 50 feet from the face of the heath they made their way through the scattered rocks at the foot of these crags till just where the rock wall seemed the closest the way through the stones turned into a path going through it skew-wise and it was now so clear a path that to be like it had been bettered by men's hands down there by face of god followed the hound deeming that he was come to the gates of the shadowy veil path went down steeply and swiftly but when he had gone down a while the rocks on his right hand sank lower for a space so that he could look over and see what lay beneath there lay below him a long narrow veil quite plain at the bottom walled on the further side as on the hither by sheer rocks of black stone the plain was grown over with grass but he could see no tree therein a deep river dark and green ran through the veil sometimes through its midmost sometimes lapping the further rock wall and he thought indeed there's on many a day in the year the sun would never shine on that valley thus much he saw and then the rocks rose again and shut it from his sight and at last they drew so close together overhead that he was in a way going through a cave with little daylight coming from above and in the end he was in a cave indeed and mere darkness but with the last feeble glimmer of light he thought he saw carved on a smooth space of the living rock that he's left hand the image of a wolf this cave lasted but a little way and soon the hound and the man were going once more between sheer black rocks and the path grew steeper yet and was cut into steps at last there was a sharp turn and they stood on the top of a long stony scree down which shorefoot bounded eagerly giving tong as he went but face of god stood still and looked for now the whole dale lay open before him that river ran from north to south and at the south end the cliffs drew so close to it that looking thence no out gate could be seen but at the north end there was as it were a dreary street of rocks the river flowing amid most and leaving little foothold on either side somewhat as it was with the paths leading from the mountains into burgdale amid most of the dale a little toward the north end he saw a doomering of black stones and hard by it an ancient hall a building of the same black stone both wall and roof and thitherwood with shorefoot now running face of god looked up and down the dale and could see no break in the wall of sheer rock toward the southern end he saw a few booths and cots built roughly of stone and thatched with turf there about he saw a few folk moving about the most of whom seemed to be women and children there were some sheep and lambs near these cots and a herd of fifty or so of somewhat goodly mountain kind were feeding higher up the valley he could look down into the river from where he stood and he saw that it ran between rocky banks going straight down from the face of the meadow which was rather high above the water so that it seemed little likely that the water should rise over its banks either in summer or winter and in summer was it like to be highest because the veil was so near to the high mountains and their snows. End of chapter 17