BUT it must be told of Gold-mane that what had befallen him was in this
wise. His skid-strap brake in good sooth, 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 aírt, 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 swiftlier. 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 new-comer’s head; albeit he kept on his way till there was but a
space of two hundred yards between them; when lo! the helm-bearer notched
a shaft to his bent bow and loosed at Face-of-god, and the arrow came
whistling and passed six inches by his right ear. Then Face-of-god
stopped perplexed with his case; for he was on the deep snow in his
skids, with his bow unbent, and he knew not how to bend it speedily. He
was loth 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, and 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 amidmost
and close to it. ‘Good shooting on the Mountain!’ muttered he; ‘the next
shaft will be amidst my breast, and who knows whether the Alderman’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, and 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 new-comer, 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 Bow-may, ruddy and
smiling.
She laughed out loud again, as she stopped herself within three feet of
him, and said:
‘Yea, friend Yellow-hair, we heard of the elks and looked to see thee
hereabouts, and I knew thee at once when I came out from behind the crag
and saw thee stand bewildered.’
Said Gold-mane: ‘Hail to thee, Bow-may! and glad am I to see thee. But
thou liest in saying that thou knewest me; else why didst thou shoot
those three shafts at me? Surely thou art 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
toward the great oak-wood, the wind whistling past their ears.
‘Whither are we going?’ said he.
Said she: ‘I am to show thee the way back home, which thou wilt not know
surely amidst this snow. Come, no words! thou shalt not have my tale
from me till we are in the wood: so the sooner we are there the sooner
shalt thou be pleased.’
So Face-of-god held his peace, and they went on swiftly side by side.
But it was not Bow-may’s wont to be silent for long, so presently she
said:
‘Thou art good so do as I bid thee; but see thou, sweet playmate, for all
thou art a chieftain’s son, 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 aimed to miss.’
‘Yea, Bow-may,’ said he, ‘art thou so deft a Bow-may? Thou shalt be in
my company whenso I fare to battle.’
‘Indeed,’ she said, ‘therein thou sayest but the bare truth: nowhere else
shall I be, and thou shalt 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 well content
with thee!’
So on they sped very swiftly, for their way was mostly down hill, 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 hornbeam tree; and ere Gold-mane could open his mouth to
speak Bow-may 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 hast thou done to seek to her. Hearken! dost thou think
that thou hast done well that thou hast me here with my tale? Well,
hadst thou busied thyself with the slaying of elks, or with sitting
quietly at home, yet shouldest thou have heard my tale, and thou
shouldest have seen me in Burgstead in a day or two to tell thee
concerning the flitting of the token. And ill it is that I have missed
it, for fain 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, Bow-may!
On the word of a true man that shall befall thee one day. But come,
playmate, give me thy tale!’
‘Yea,’ she said, ‘I must now tell thee in the wild-wood what else I had
told thee in the Hall. Hearken closely, for this is the message:
‘_Seek not to me again till thou hast 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 hear tidings_.’
‘Now,’ quoth Bow-may, ‘hast thou hearkened and understood?’
‘Yea,’ 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 is no more to say. Now must I lead thee till thou
knowest the wood; and then mayst thou get on to the smooth snow again,
and so home merrily. Yet, thou grey-eyed fellow, I will have my 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 smelleth 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 friendly wise:
‘Thou art a merry faring-fellow, Bow-may, and belike shalt be withal a
true fighting-fellow. Come now, thou shalt be my sister and I thy
brother, in despite of those three shafts across the snow.’
He laughed therewith; she laughed not, but seemed glad, and said soberly:
‘Yea, I may well be thy sister; for belike I also am of the people of the
Gods, who have 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
toward Wildlake’s Way.’
Therewith she went before him and led through the thicket as by an
assured and wonted path, and he followed hard at heel; 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 nought 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 deeds lay before him. Yet again
was he solaced by what Bow-may had said concerning battle to come; for he
deemed that she must have had this from the Friend’s foreseeing; and he
longed sore for deeds to do, wherein all these things might be cleared up
and washen clean as it were.
So passed they through the wood a long way, and it was getting dark
therein, and Gold-mane said:
‘Hold now, Bow-may, for I am at home here.’
She looked around and said: ‘Yea, so it is: I was thinking of many
things. Farewell and live merrily till 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 watch-tower, when the moon was
bright in heaven.
Thus was he at Burgstead and the House of the Face betimes, and before
the hunters were gotten back.