Transcribed from the 1896 Longmans, Green, and Co. edition by David
Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org
THE ROOTS OF THE MOUNTAINS
WHEREIN IS TOLD SOMEWHAT OF
THE LIVES OF THE MEN OF BURG-
DALE THEIR FRIENDS THEIR
NEIGHBOURS THEIR FOEMEN AND
THEIR FELLOWS IN ARMS
BY WILLIAM MORRIS
Whiles carried o’er the iron road,
We hurry by some fair abode;
The garden bright amidst the hay,
The yellow wain upon the way,
The dining men, the wind that sweeps
Light locks from off the sun-sweet heaps—
The gable grey, the hoary roof,
Here now—and now so far aloof.
How sorely then we long to stay
And midst its sweetness wear the day,
And ’neath its changing shadows sit,
And feel ourselves a part of it.
Such rest, such stay, I strove to win
With these same leaves that lie herein.
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
LONDON, NEW YORK, AND BOMBAY
MDCCCXCVI
* * * * *
_First Edition printed November_, 1889.
250 _copies were printed on Large Paper_.
_Second Edition_, _February_, 1893.
_CONTENTS_.
_Page_
_Chapter I_. _Of Burgstead and its Folk and its 1
Neighbours_
_II_. _Of Face-of-god and his Kindred_ 12
_III_. _They talk of divers matters in the Hall_ 18
_IV_. _Face-of-god fareth to the Wood again_ 25
_V_. _Face-of-god falls in with Menfolk on the 34
Mountain_
_VI_. _Of Face-of-god and those 39
Mountain-dwellers_
_VII_. _Face-of-god talketh with the Friend on the 50
Mountain_
_VIII_. _Face-of-god cometh home again to 57
Burgstead_
_IX_. _Those Brethren fare to the Yew-wood with 59
the Bride_
_X_. _New Tidings in the Dale_ 63
_XI_. _Men make Oath at Burgstead on the Holy 69
Boar_
_XII_. _Stone-face telleth concerning the 74
Wood-wights_
_XIII_. _They fare to the hunting of the elk_ 78
_XIV_. _Concerning Face-of-god and the Mountain_ 82
_XV_. _Murder amongst the Folk of the 87
Woodlanders_
_XVI_. _The Bride speaketh with Face-of-god_ 93
_XVII_. _The Token cometh from the Mountain_ 97
_XVIII_. _Face-of-god talketh with the Friend in 105
Shadowy Vale_
_XIX_. _The fair Woman telleth Face-of-god of her 109
Kindred_
_XX_. _Those two together hold the Ring of the 124
Earth-god_
_XXI_. _Face-of-god looketh on the Dusky Men_ 141
_XXII_. _Face-of-god cometh home to Burgstead_ 151
_XXIII_. _Talk in the Hall of the House of the Face_ 162
_XXIV_. _Face-of-god giveth that Token to the 165
Bride_
_XXV_. _Of the Gate-thing at Burgstead_ 170
_XXVI_. _The Ending of the Gate-thing_ 183
_XXVII_. _Face-of-god leadeth a Band through the 191
Wood_
_XXVIII_. _The Men of Burgdale meet the Runaways_ 202
_XXIX_. _They bring the Runaways to Burgstead_ 216
_XXX_. _Hall-face goeth toward Rose-dale_ 225
_XXXI_. _Of the Weapon-show of the Men of Burgdale 231
and their Neighbours_
_XXXII_. _The Men of Shadowy Vale come to the Spring 239
Market at Burgstead_
_XXXIII_. _The Alderman gives Gifts to them of 251
Shadowy Vale_
_XXXIV_. _The Chieftains take counsel in the Hall of 255
the Face_
_XXXV_. _Face-of-god talketh with the Sun-beam_ 268
_XXXVI_. _Folk-might speaketh with the Bride_ 275
_XXXVII_. _Of the Folk-mote of the Dalesmen_, _the 282
Shepherd-Folk_, _and the Woodland Carles_:
_the Banner of the Wolf displayed_
_XXXVIII_. _Of the Great Folk-mote_: _Atonements 287
given_, _and Men made sackless_
_XXXIX_. _Of the Great Folk-mote_: _Men take rede of 292
the War-faring_, _the Fellowship_, _and the
War-leader_. _Folk-might telleth whence
his People came_. _The Folk-mote sundered_
_XL_. _Of the Hosting in Shadowy Vale_ 301
_XLI_. _The Host departeth from Shadowy Vale_: 311
_the first Day’s journey_
_XLII_. _The Host cometh to the edges of 318
Silver-dale_
_XLIII_. _Face-of-god looketh on Silver-dale_: _the 322
Bowmen’s battle_
_XLIV_. _Of the Onslaught of the Men of the Steer_, 335
_the Bridge_, _and the Bull_
_XLV_. _Of Face-of-god’s Onslaught_ 343
_XLVI_. _Men meet in the Market of Silver-stead_ 352
_XLVII_. _The Kindreds win the Mote-house_ 363
_XLVIII_. _Men sing in the Mote-house_ 367
_XLIX_. _Dallach fareth to Rose-dale_: _Crow 372
telleth of his Errand_: _the Kindreds eat
their meat in Silver-dale_
_L_. _Folk-might seeth the Bride and speaketh 378
with her_
_LI_. _The Dead borne to bale_: _the Mote-house 382
re-hallowed_
_LII_. _Of the new Beginning of good Days in 384
Silver-dale_
_LIII_. _Of the Word which Hall-ward of the Steer 386
had for Folk-might_
_LIV_. _Tidings of Dallach_: _a Folk-mote in 391
Silver-dale_
_LV_. _Departure from Silver-dale_ 394
_LVI_. _Talk upon the Wild-wood Way_ 403
_LVII_. _How the Host came home again_ 404
_LVIII_. _How the Maiden Ward was held in Burgdale_ 409
_LIX_. _The Behest of Face-of-god to the Bride 418
accomplished_: _a Mote-stead appointed for
the three Folks_, _to wit_, _the Men of
Burgdale_, _the Shepherds_, _and the
Children of the Wolf_
CHAPTER I. OF BURGSTEAD AND ITS FOLK AND ITS NEIGHBOURS.
ONCE upon a time amidst the mountains and hills and falling streams of a
fair land there was a town or thorp in a certain valley. This was
well-nigh encompassed by a wall of sheer cliffs; toward the East and the
great mountains they drew together till they went near to meet, and left
but a narrow path on either side of a stony stream that came rattling
down into the Dale: toward the river at that end the hills lowered
somewhat, though they still ended in sheer rocks; but up from it, and
more especially on the north side, they swelled into great shoulders of
land, then dipped a little, and rose again into the sides of huge fells
clad with pine-woods, and cleft here and there by deep ghylls: thence
again they rose higher and steeper, and ever higher till they drew dark
and naked out of the woods to meet the snow-fields and ice-rivers of the
high mountains. But that was far away from the pass by the little river
into the valley; and the said river was no drain from the snow-fields
white and thick with the grinding of the ice, but clear and bright were
its waters that came from wells amidst the bare rocky heaths.
The upper end of the valley, where it first began to open out from the
pass, was rugged and broken by rocks and ridges of water-borne stones,
but presently it smoothed itself into mere grassy swellings and knolls,
and at last into a fair and fertile plain swelling up into a green wave,
as it were, against the rock-wall which encompassed it on all sides save
where the river came gushing out of the strait pass at the east end, and
where at the west end it poured itself out of the Dale toward the
lowlands and the plain of the great river.
Now the valley was some ten miles of our measure from that place of the
rocks and the stone-ridges, to where the faces of the hills drew somewhat
anigh to the river again at the west, and then fell aback along the edge
of the great plain; like as when ye fare a-sailing past two nesses of a
river-mouth, and the main-sea lieth open before you.
Besides the river afore-mentioned, which men called the Weltering Water,
there were other waters in the Dale. Near the eastern pass, entangled in
the rocky ground was a deep tarn full of cold springs and about two acres
in measure, and therefrom ran a stream which fell into the Weltering
Water amidst the grassy knolls. Black seemed the waters of that tarn
which on one side washed the rocks-wall of the Dale; ugly and aweful it
seemed to men, and none knew what lay beneath its waters save black
mis-shapen trouts that few cared to bring to net or angle: and it was
called the Death-Tarn.
Other waters yet there were: here and there from the hills on both sides,
but especially from the south side, came trickles of water that ran in
pretty brooks down to the river; and some of these sprang bubbling up
amidst the foot-mounds of the sheer-rocks; some had cleft a rugged and
strait way through them, and came tumbling down into the Dale at diverse
heights from their faces. But on the north side about halfway down the
Dale, one stream somewhat bigger than the others, and dealing with softer
ground, had cleft for itself a wider way; and the folk had laboured this
way wider yet, till they had made them a road running north along the
west side of the stream. Sooth to say, except for the strait pass along
the river at the eastern end, and the wider pass at the western, they had
no other way (save one of which a word anon) out of the Dale but such as
mountain goats and bold cragsmen might take; and even of these but few.
This midway stream was called the Wildlake, and the way along it
Wildlake’s Way, because it came to them out of the wood, which on that
north side stretched away from nigh to the lip of the valley-wall up to
the pine woods and the high fells on the east and north, and down to the
plain country on the west and south.
Now when the Weltering Water came out of the rocky tangle near the pass,
it was turned aside by the ground till it swung right up to the feet of
the Southern crags; then it turned and slowly bent round again northward,
and at last fairly doubled back on itself before it turned again to run
westward; so that when, after its second double, it had come to flowing
softly westward under the northern crags, it had cast two thirds of a
girdle round about a space of land a little below the grassy knolls and
tofts aforesaid; and there in that fair space between the folds of the
Weltering Water stood the Thorp whereof the tale hath told.
The men thereof had widened and deepened the Weltering Water about them,
and had bridged it over to the plain meads; and athwart the throat of the
space left clear by the water they had built them a strong wall though
not very high, with a gate amidst and a tower on either side thereof.
Moreover, on the face of the cliff which was but a stone’s throw from the
gate they had made them stairs and ladders to go up by; and on a knoll
nigh the brow had built a watch-tower of stone strong and great, lest war
should come into the land from over the hills. That tower was ancient,
and therefrom the Thorp had its name and the whole valley also; and it
was called Burgstead in Burgdale.
So long as the Weltering Water ran straight along by the northern cliffs
after it had left Burgstead, betwixt the water and the cliffs was a wide
flat way fashioned by man’s hand. Thus was the water again a good
defence to the Thorp, for it ran slow and deep there, and there was no
other ground betwixt it and the cliffs save that road, which was easy to
bar across so that no foemen might pass without battle, and this road was
called the Portway. For a long mile the river ran under the northern
cliffs, and then turned into the midst of the Dale, and went its way
westward a broad stream winding in gentle laps and folds here and there
down to the out-gate of the Dale. But the Portway held on still
underneath the rock-wall, till the sheer-rocks grew somewhat broken, and
were cumbered with certain screes, and at last the wayfarer came upon the
break in them, and the ghyll through which ran the Wildlake with
Wildlake’s Way beside it, but the Portway still went on all down the Dale
and away to the Plain-country.
That road in the ghyll, which was neither wide nor smooth, the wayfarer
into the wood must follow, till it lifted itself out of the ghyll, and
left the Wildlake coming rattling down by many steps from the east; and
now the way went straight north through the woodland, ever mounting
higher, (because the whole set of the land was toward the high fells,)
but not in any cleft or ghyll. The wood itself thereabout was thick, a
blended growth of diverse kinds of trees, but most of oak and ash; light
and air enough came through their boughs to suffer the holly and bramble
and eglantine and other small wood to grow together into thickets, which
no man could pass without hewing a way. But before it is told whereto
Wildlake’s Way led, it must be said that on the east side of the ghyll,
where it first began just over the Portway, the hill’s brow was clear of
wood for a certain space, and there, overlooking all the Dale, was the
Mote-stead of the Dalesmen, marked out by a great ring of stones, amidst
of which was the mound for the Judges and the Altar of the Gods before
it. And this was the holy place of the men of the Dale and of other folk
whereof the tale shall now tell.
For when Wildlake’s Way had gone some three miles from the Mote-stead,
the trees began to thin, and presently afterwards was a clearing and the
dwellings of men, built of timber as may well be thought. These houses
were neither rich nor great, nor was the folk a mighty folk, because they
were but a few, albeit body by body they were stout carles enough. They
had not affinity with the Dalesmen, and did not wed with them, yet it is
to be deemed that they were somewhat akin to them. To be short, though
they were freemen, yet as regards the Dalesmen were they well-nigh their
servants; for they were but poor in goods, and had to lean upon them
somewhat. No tillage they had among those high trees; and of beasts
nought save some flocks of goats and a few asses. Hunters they were, and
charcoal-burners, and therein the deftest of men, and they could shoot
well in the bow withal: so they trucked their charcoal and their smoked
venison and their peltries with the Dalesmen for wheat and wine and
weapons and weed; and the Dalesmen gave them main good pennyworths, as
men who had abundance wherewith to uphold their kinsmen, though they were
but far-away kin. Stout hands had these Woodlanders and true hearts as
any; but they were few-spoken and to those that needed them not somewhat
surly of speech and grim of visage: brown-skinned they were, but
light-haired; well-eyed, with but little red in their cheeks: their women
were not very fair, for they toiled like the men, or more. They were
thought to be wiser than most men in foreseeing things to come. They
were much given to spells, and songs of wizardry, and were very mindful
of the old story-lays, wherein they were far more wordy than in their
daily speech. Much skill had they in runes, and were exceeding deft in
scoring them on treen bowls, and on staves, and door-posts and roof-beams
and standing-beds and such like things. Many a day when the snow was
drifting over their roofs, and hanging heavy on the tree-boughs, and the
wind was roaring through the trees aloft and rattling about the close
thicket, when the boughs were clattering in the wind, and crashing down
beneath the weight of the gathering freezing snow, when all beasts and
men lay close in their lairs, would they sit long hours about the
house-fire with the knife or the gouge in hand, with the timber twixt
their knees and the whetstone beside them, hearkening to some tale of old
times and the days when their banner was abroad in the world; and they
the while wheedling into growth out of the tough wood knots and blossoms
and leaves and the images of beasts and warriors and women.
They were called nought save the Woodland-Carles in that day, though time
had been when they had borne a nobler name: and their abode was called
Carlstead. Shortly, for all they had and all they had not, for all they
were and all they were not, they were well-beloved by their friends and
feared by their foes.
Now when Wildlake’s Way was gotten to Carlstead, there was an end of it
toward the north; though beyond it in a right line the wood was thinner,
because of the hewing of the Carles. But the road itself turned west at
once and went on through the wood, till some four miles further it first
thinned and then ceased altogether, the ground going down-hill all the
way: for this was the lower flank of the first great upheaval toward the
high mountains. But presently, after the wood was ended, the land broke
into swelling downs and winding dales of no great height or depth, with a
few scattered trees about the hillsides, mostly thorns or scrubby oaks,
gnarled and bent and kept down by the western wind: here and there also
were yew-trees, and whiles the hillsides would be grown over with
box-wood, but none very great; and often juniper grew abundantly. This
then was the country of the Shepherds, who were friends both of the
Dalesmen and the Woodlanders. They dwelt not in any fenced town or
thorp, but their homesteads were scattered about as was handy for water
and shelter. Nevertheless they had their own stronghold; for amidmost of
their country, on the highest of a certain down above a bottom where a
willowy stream winded, was a great earthwork: the walls thereof were high
and clean and overlapping at the entering in, and amidst of it was a deep
well of water, so that it was a very defensible place: and thereto would
they drive their flocks and herds when war was in the land, for nought
but a very great host might win it; and this stronghold they called
Greenbury.
These Shepherd-Folk were strong and tall like the Woodlanders, for they
were partly of the same blood, but burnt they were both ruddy and brown:
they were of more words than the Woodlanders but yet not many-worded.
They knew well all those old story-lays, (and this partly by the
minstrelsy of the Woodlanders,) but they had scant skill in wizardry, and
would send for the Woodlanders, both men and women, to do whatso they
needed therein. They were very hale and long-lived, whereas they dwelt
in clear bright air, and they mostly went light-clad even in the winter,
so strong and merry were they. They wedded with the Woodlanders and the
Dalesmen both; at least certain houses of them did so. They grew no
corn; nought but a few pot-herbs, but had their meal of the Dalesmen; and
in the summer they drave some of their milch-kine into the Dale for the
abundance of grass there; whereas their own hills and bents and winding
valleys were not plenteously watered, except here and there as in the
bottom under Greenbury. No swine they had, and but few horses, but of
sheep very many, and of the best both for their flesh and their wool.
Yet were they nought so deft craftsmen at the loom as were the Dalesmen,
and their women were not very eager at the weaving, though they loathed
not the spindle and rock. Shortly, they were merry folk well-beloved of
the Dalesmen, quick to wrath, though it abode not long with them; not
very curious in their houses and halls, which were but little, and were
decked mostly with the handiwork of the Woodland-Carles their guests; who
when they were abiding with them, would oft stand long hours nose to
beam, scoring and nicking and hammering, answering no word spoken to them
but with aye or no, desiring nought save the endurance of the daylight.
Moreover, this shepherd-folk heeded not gay raiment over-much, but
commonly went clad in white woollen or sheep-brown weed.
But beyond this shepherd-folk were more downs and more, scantily peopled,
and that after a while by folk with whom they had no kinship or affinity,
and who were at whiles their foes. Yet was there no enduring enmity
between them; and ever after war and battle came peace; and all
blood-wites were duly paid and no long feud followed: nor were the
Dalesmen and the Woodlanders always in these wars, though at whiles they
were. Thus then it fared with these people.
But now that we have told of the folks with whom the Dalesmen had
kinship, affinity, and friendship, tell we of their chief abode,
Burgstead to wit, and of its fashion. As hath been told, it lay upon the
land made nigh into an isle by the folds of the Weltering Water towards
the uppermost end of the Dale; and it was warded by the deep water, and
by the wall aforesaid with its towers. Now the Dale at its widest, to
wit where Wildlake fell into it, was but nine furlongs over, but at
Burgstead it was far narrower; so that betwixt the wall and the wandering
stream there was but a space of fifty acres, and therein lay Burgstead in
a space of the shape of a sword-pommel: and the houses of the kinships
lay about it, amidst of gardens and orchards, but little ordered into
streets and lanes, save that a way went clean through everything from the
tower-warded gate to the bridge over the Water, which was warded by two
other towers on its hither side.
As to the houses, they were some bigger, some smaller, as the housemates
needed. Some were old, but not very old, save two only, and some quite
new, but of these there were not many: they were all built fairly of
stone and lime, with much fair and curious carved work of knots and
beasts and men round about the doors; or whiles a wale of such-like work
all along the house-front. For as deft as were the Woodlanders with
knife and gouge on the oaken beams, even so deft were the Dalesmen with
mallet and chisel on the face of the hewn stone; and this was a great
pastime about the Thorp. Within these houses had but a hall and solar,
with shut-beds out from the hall on one side or two, with whatso of
kitchen and buttery and out-bower men deemed handy. Many men dwelt in
each house, either kinsfolk, or such as were joined to the kindred.
Near to the gate of Burgstead in that street aforesaid and facing east
was the biggest house of the Thorp; it was one of the two abovesaid which
were older than any other. Its door-posts and the lintel of the door
were carved with knots and twining stems fairer than other houses of that
stead; and on the wall beside the door carved over many stones was an
image wrought in the likeness of a man with a wide face, which was
terrible to behold, although it smiled: he bore a bent bow in his hand
with an arrow fitted to its string, and about the head of him was a ring
of rays like the beams of the sun, and at his feet was a dragon, which
had crept, as it were, from amidst of the blossomed knots of the
door-post wherewith the tail of him was yet entwined. And this head with
the ring of rays about it was wrought into the adornment of that house,
both within and without, in many other places, but on never another house
of the Dale; and it was called the House of the Face. Thereof hath the
tale much to tell hereafter, but as now it goeth on to tell of the ways
of life of the Dalesmen.
In Burgstead was no Mote-hall or Town-house or Church, such as we wot of
in these days; and their market-place was wheresoever any might choose to
pitch a booth: but for the most part this was done in the wide street
betwixt the gate and the bridge. As to a meeting-place, were there any
small matters between man and man, these would the Alderman or one of the
Wardens deal with, sitting in Court with the neighbours on the wide space
just outside the Gate: but if it were to do with greater matters, such as
great manslayings and blood-wites, or the making of war or ending of it,
or the choosing of the Alderman and the Wardens, such matters must be put
off to the Folk-mote, which could but be held in the place aforesaid
where was the Doom-ring and the Altar of the Gods; and at that Folk-mote
both the Shepherd-Folk and the Woodland-Carles foregathered with the
Dalesmen, and duly said their say. There also they held their great
casts and made offerings to the Gods for the Fruitfulness of the Year,
the ingathering of the increase, and in Memory of their Forefathers.
Natheless at Yule-tide also they feasted from house to house to be glad
with the rest of Midwinter, and many a cup drank at those feasts to the
memory of the fathers, and the days when the world was wider to them, and
their banners fared far afield.
But besides these dwellings of men in the field between the wall and the
water, there were homesteads up and down the Dale whereso men found it
easy and pleasant to dwell: their halls were built of much the same
fashion as those within the Thorp; but many had a high garth-wall cast
about them, so that they might make a stout defence in their own houses
if war came into the Dale.
As to their work afield; in many places the Dale was fair with growth of
trees, and especially were there long groves of sweet chestnut standing
on the grass, of the fruit whereof the folk had much gain. Also on the
south side nigh to the western end was a wood or two of yew-trees very
great and old, whence they gat them bow-staves, for the Dalesmen also
shot well in the bow. Much wheat and rye they raised in the Dale, and
especially at the nether end thereof. Apples and pears and cherries and
plums they had in plenty; of which trees, some grew about the borders of
the acres, some in the gardens of the Thorp and the homesteads. On the
slopes that had grown from the breaking down here and there of the
Northern cliffs, and which faced the South and the Sun’s burning, were
rows of goodly vines, whereof the folk made them enough and to spare of
strong wine both white and red.
As to their beasts; swine they had a many, but not many sheep, since
herein they trusted to their trucking with their friends the Shepherds;
they had horses, and yet but a few, for they were stout in going afoot;
and, had they a journey to make with women big with babes, or with
children or outworn elders, they would yoke their oxen to their wains,
and go fair and softly whither they would. But the said oxen and all
their neat were exceeding big and fair, far other than the little beasts
of the Shepherd-Folk; they were either dun of colour, or white with black
horns (and those very great) and black tail-tufts and ear-tips. Asses
they had, and mules for the paths of the mountains to the east; geese and
hens enough, and dogs not a few, great hounds stronger than wolves,
sharp-nosed, long-jawed, dun of colour, shag-haired.
As to their wares; they were very deft weavers of wool and flax, and made
a shift to dye the thrums in fair colours; since both woad and madder
came to them good cheap by means of the merchants of the plain country,
and of greening weeds was abundance at hand. Good smiths they were in
all the metals: they washed somewhat of gold out of the sands of the
Weltering Water, and copper and tin they fetched from the rocks of the
eastern mountains; but of silver they saw little, and iron they must buy
of the merchants of the plain, who came to them twice in the year, to wit
in the spring and the late autumn just before the snows. Their wares
they bought with wool spun and in the fleece, and fine cloth, and skins
of wine and young neat both steers and heifers, and wrought copper bowls,
and gold and copper by weight, for they had no stamped money. And they
guested these merchants well, for they loved them, because of the tales
they told them of the Plain and its cities, and the manslayings therein,
and the fall of Kings and Dukes, and the uprising of Captains.
Thus then lived this folk in much plenty and ease of life, though not
delicately nor desiring things out of measure. They wrought with their
hands and wearied themselves; and they rested from their toil and feasted
and were merry: to-morrow was not a burden to them, nor yesterday a thing
which they would fain forget: life shamed them not, nor did death make
them afraid.
As for the Dale wherein they dwelt, it was indeed most fair and lovely,
and they deemed it the Blessing of the Earth, and they trod its flowery
grass beside its rippled streams amidst its green tree-boughs proudly and
joyfully with goodly bodies and merry hearts.