THEN turned Face-of-god back into the Hall, and saw where Iron-face sat
at the daïs, and with him Folk-might and Stone-face and the Elder of the
Dale-wardens, and Sun-beam withal; so he went soberly up to the board,
and sat himself down thereat beside Stone-face, over against Folk-might
and his father, beside whom sat the Sun-beam; and Folk-might looked on
him gravely, as a man powerful and trustworthy, yet was his look somewhat
sour.
Then the Alderman said: ‘My son, I said not to thee come back presently,
because I wotted that thou wouldst surely do so, knowing that we have
much to speak of. For, whatever these thy friends may have done, or
whatsoever thou hast done with them to grieve us, all that must be set
aside at this present time, since the matter in hand is to save the Dale
and its folk. What sayest thou hereon? Since, young as thou mayst be,
thou art our War-leader, and doubtless shalt so be after the Folk-mote
hath been holden.’
Face-of-god answered not hastily: indeed, as he sat thinking for a minute
or two, the fair spring day seemed to darken about them or to glare into
the light of flames amidst the night-tide; and the joyous clamour without
doors seemed to grow hoarse and fearful as the sound of wailing and
shrieking. But he spake firmly and simply in a clear voice, and said:
‘There can be no two words concerning what we have to aim at; these Dusky
Men we must slay everyone, though we be fewer than they be.’
Folk-might smiled and nodded his head; but the others sat staring down
the hall or into the hangings.
Then spake Folk-might: ‘Thou wert a boy methought when I cast my spear at
thee last autumn, Face-of-god, but now hast thou grown into a man. Now
tell me, what deemest thou we must do to slay them all?’
Said Face-of-god: ‘Once again it is clear that we must fall upon them at
home in Rose-dale and Silver-dale.’
Again Folk-might nodded: but Iron-face said:
‘Needeth this? May we not ward the Dale and send many bands into the
wood to fall upon them when we meet them? Yea, and so doing these our
guests have already slain many, as this valiant man hath told me e’en
now. Will ye not slay so many at last, that they shall learn to fear us,
and abide at home and leave us at peace?’
But Face-of-god said: ‘Meseemeth, father, that this is not thy rede, and
that thou sayest this but to try me: and perchance ye have been talking
about me when I was without in the street e’en now. Even if it might be
that we should thus cow these felons into abiding at home and tormenting
their own thralls at their ease, yet how then are our friends of the Wolf
holpen to their own again? And I shall tell thee that I have promised to
this man and this woman that I will give them no less than a man’s help
in this matter. Moreover, I have spoken in every house of the Dale, and
to the Shepherds and the Woodlanders, and there is no man amongst them
but will follow me in the quarrel. Furthermore, they have heard of the
thralldom that is done on men no great way from their own houses; yea,
they have seen it; and they remember the old saw, “Grief in thy
neighbour’s hall is grief in thy garth,” and sure it is, father, that
whether thou or I gainsay them, go they will to deliver the thralls of
the Dusky Men, and will leave us alone in the Dale.’
‘This is no less than sooth,’ said the Dale-warden, ‘never have men gone
forth more joyously to a merry-making than all men of us shall wend to
this war.’
‘But,’ said Face-of-god, ‘of one thing ye may be sure, that these men
will not abide our pleasure till we cut them all off in scattered bands,
nor will they sit deedless at home. Nor indeed may they; for we have
heard from their thralls that they look to have fresh tribes of them come
to hand to eat their meat and waste their servants, and these and they
must find new abodes and new thralls; and they are now warned by the
overthrows and slayings that they have had at our hands that we are
astir, and they will not delay long, but will fall upon us with all their
host; it might even be to-day or to-morrow.’
Said Folk-might: ‘In all this thou sayest sooth, brother of the Dale; and
to cut this matter short, I will tell you all, that yesterday we had with
us a runaway from Silver-dale (it is overlong to tell how we fell in with
her; for it was a woman). But she told us that this very moon is a new
tribe come into the Dale, six long hundreds in number, and twice as many
more are looked for in two eights of days, and that ere this moon hath
waned, that is, in twenty-four days, they will wend their ways straight
for Burgdale, for they know the ways thereto. So I say that Face-of-god
is right in all wise. But tell me, brother, hast thou thought of how we
shall come upon these men?’
‘How many men wilt thou lead into battle?’ said Face-of-god.
Folk-might reddened, and said: ‘A few, a few; maybe two-hundreds all
told.’
‘Yea,’ said Face-of-god, ‘but some special gain wilt thou be to us.’
‘So I deem at least,’ said Folk-might.
Said Face-of-god: ‘Good is that. Now have we held our Weapon-show in the
Dale, and we find that we together with you be sixteen long hundreds of
men; and the tale of the foemen that be now in Silver-dale, new-comers
and all, shall be three thousands or thereabout, and in Rose-dale hard on
a thousand.’
‘Scarce so many,’ said Folk-might; ‘some of the felons have died; we told
over our silver arm-rings yesterday, and the tale was three hundred and
eighty and six. Besides, they were never so many as thou deemest.’
‘Well,’ said Face-of-god, ‘yet at least they shall outnumber us sorely.
We may scarce leave the Dale unguarded when our host is gone; therefore I
deem that we shall have but one thousand of men for our onslaught on
Silver-dale.’
‘How come ye to that?’ said Stone-face.
Said Face-of-god: ‘Abide a while, fosterer! Though the odds between us
be great, it is not to be hidden that I wot how ye of the Wolf know of
privy passes into Silver-dale; yea, into the heart thereof; and this is
the special gain ye have to give us. Therefore we, the thousand men,
falling on the foe unawares, shall make a great slaughter of them; and if
the murder be but grim enough, those thralls of theirs shall fear us and
not them, as already they hate them and not us, so that we may look to
them for rooting out these sorry weeds after the overthrow. And what
with one thing, what with another, we may cherish a good hope of clearing
Silver-dale at one stroke with the said thousand men.
‘There remaineth Rose-dale, which will be easier to deal with, because
the Dusky Men therein are fewer and the thralls as many: that also would
I fall on at the same time as we fall on Silver-dale with the men that
are left over from the Silver-dale onslaught. Wherefore my rede is, that
we gather all those unmeet for battle in the field into this Burg, with
ten tens of men to strengthen them; which shall be enough for them, along
with the old men, and lads, and sturdy women, to defend themselves till
help comes, if aught of evil befall, or to flee into the mountains, or at
the worst to die valiantly. Then let the other five hundreds fare up to
Rose-dale, and fall on the Dusky Men therein about the same time, but not
before our onslaught on Silver-dale: thus shall hand help foot, so that
stumbling be not falling; and we may well hope that our rede shall
thrive.’
Then was he silent, and the Sun-beam looked upon him with gleaming eyes
and parted lips, waiting eagerly to hear what Folk-might would say. He
held his peace a while, drumming on the board with his fingers, and none
else spake a word. At last he said:
‘War-leader of Burgdale, all that thou hast spoken likes me well, and
even so must it be done, saving that parting of our host and sending one
part to fall upon Rose-dale. I say, nay; let us put all our might into
that one stroke on Silver-dale, and then we are undone indeed if we fail;
but so shall we be if we fail anywise; but if we win Silver-dale, then
shall Rose-dale lie open before us.’
‘My brother,’ said Face-of-god, ‘thou art a tried warrior, and I but a
lad: but dost thou not see this, that whatever we do, we shall not at one
onslaught slay all the Dusky Men of Silver-dale, and those that flee
before us shall betake them to Rose-dale, and tell all the tale, and what
shall hinder them then from falling on Burgdale (since they are no great
way from it) after they have murdered what they will of the unhappy
people under their hands?’
Said Folk-might: ‘I say not but that there is a risk thereof, but in war
we must needs run such risks, and all should be risked rather than that
our blow on Silver-dale be light. For we be the fewer; and if the foemen
have time to call that to mind, then are we all lost.’
Said Stone-face: ‘Meseemeth, War-leader, that there is nought much to
dread in leaving Rose-dale to itself for a while; for not only may we
follow hard on the fleers if they flee to Rose-dale, and be there no long
time after them, before they have time to stir their host; but also after
the overthrow we shall be free to send men back to Burgdale by way of
Shadowy Vale. I deem that herein Folk-might hath the right of it.’
‘Even so say I,’ said the Alderman; ‘besides, we might theft leave more
folk behind us for the warding of the Dale. So, son, the risk whereof
thou speakest groweth the lesser the longer it is looked on.’
Then spake the Dale-warden: ‘Yet saving your wisdom, Alderman, the risk
is there yet. For if these felons come into the Dale at all, even if the
folk left behind hold the Burg and keep themselves unmurdered, yet may
they not hinder the foe from spoiling our homesteads; so that our folk
coming back in triumph shall find ruin at home, and spend weary days in
hunting their foemen, who shall, many of them, escape into the
Wild-wood.’
‘Yea,’ said the Sun-beam, ‘sooth is that; and Face-of-god is wise to
think of it and of other matters. Yet one thing we must bear in mind,
that all may not go smoothly in our day’s work in Silver-dale; so we must
have force there to fall back on, in case we miss our stroke at first.
Therefore, I say, send we no man to Rose-dale, and leave we no able
man-at-arms behind in the Burg, so that we have with us every blade that
may be gathered.’
Iron-face smiled and said: ‘Thou art wise, damsel; and I marvel that so
fair-fashioned a thing as thou can think so hardly of the meeting of the
fallow blades. But hearken! will not the Dusky Men hear that we have
stripped the Dale of fighting-men, and may they not then give our host
the go-by and send folk to ruin us?’
There was silence while Face-of-god looked down on the board; but
presently he lifted up his face and said:
‘Folk-might was right when he said that all must be risked. Let us leave
Rose-dale till we have overcome them of Silver-dale. Moreover, my
father, thou must not deem of these felons as if they were of like wits
to us, to forecast the deeds to come, and weigh the chances nicely, and
unravel tangled clews. Rather they move like to the stares in autumn, or
the winter wild-geese, and will all be thrust forward by some sting that
entereth into their imaginations. Therefore, if they have appointed one
moon to wear before they fall upon us, they will not stir till then, and
we have time enough to do what must be done. Wherefore am I now of one
mind with the rest of you. Now meseemeth it were well that these things
which we have spoken here, and shall speak, should not be noised abroad
openly; nay, at the Folk-mote it would be well that nought be said about
the day or the way of our onslaught on Silver-dale, lest the foe take
warning and be on their guard. Though, sooth to say, did I deem that if
they had word of our intent they of Rose-dale would join themselves to
them of Silver-dale, and that we should thus have all our foes in one
net, then were I fain if the word would reach them. For my soul loathes
the hunting that shall befall up and down the wood for the slaying of a
man here, and two or three there, and the wearing of the days in
wandering up and down with weapons in the hand, and the spinning out of
hatred and delaying of peace.’
Then Iron-face reached his hand across the board and took his son’s hand,
and said:
‘Hail to thee, son, for thy word! Herein thou speakest as if from my
very soul, and fain am I of such a War-leader.’
And desire drew the eyes of the Sun-beam to Face-of-god, and she beheld
him proudly. But he said:
‘All hath been spoken that the others of us may speak; and now it falleth
to the part of Folk-might to order our goings for the tryst for the
onslaught, and the trysting-place shall be in Shadowy Vale. How sayest
thou, Chief of the Wolf?’
Said Folk-might: ‘I have little to say; and it is for the War-leader to
see to this closely and piecemeal. I deem, as we all deem, that there
should be no delay; yet were it best to wend not all together to Shadowy
Vale, but in divers bands, as soon as ye may after the Folk-mote, by the
sure and nigh ways that we shall show you. And when we are gathered
there, short is the rede, for all is ready there to wend by the passes
which we know throughly, and whereby it is but two days’ journey to the
head of Silver-dale, nigh to the caves of the silver, where the felons
dwell the thickest.’
He set his teeth, and his colour came and went: for as constantly as the
onslaught had been in his mind, yet whenever he spake of the great day of
battle, hope and joy and anger wrought a tumult in his soul; and now that
it was so nigh withal, he could not refrain his joy.
But he spake again: ‘Now therefore, War-leader, it is for thee to order
the goings of thy folk. But I will tell thee that they shall not need to
take aught with them save their weapons and victual for the way, that is,
for thirty hours; because all is ready for them in Shadowy Vale, though
it be but a poor place as to victual. Canst thou tell us, therefore,
what thou wilt do?’
Face-of-god had knit his brows and become gloomy of countenance; but now
his face cleared, and he set his hand to his pouch, and drew forth a
written parchment, and said:
‘This is the order whereof I have bethought me. Before the Folk-mote I
and the Wardens shall speak to the leaders of hundreds, who be mostly
here at the Fair, and give them the day and the hour whereon they shall,
each hundred, take their weapons and wend to Shadowy Vale, and also the
place where they shall meet the men of yours who shall lead them across
the Waste. These hundred-leaders shall then go straightway and give the
word to the captains of scores, and the captains of scores to the
captains of tens; and if, as is scarce doubtful, the Folk-mote yea-says
the onslaught and the fellowship with you of the Wolf, then shall those
leaders of tens bring their men to the trysting-place, and so go their
ways to Shadowy Vale. Now here I have the roll of our Weapon-show, and I
will look to it that none shall be passed over; and if ye ask me in what
order they had best get on the way, my rede is that a two hundred should
depart on the very evening of the day of the Folk-mote, and these to be
of our folk of the Upper Dale; and on the morning of the morrow of the
Folk-mote another two hundreds from the Dale; and in the evening of the
same day the folk of the Shepherds, three hundreds or more, and that will
be easy to them; again on the next day two more bands of the Lower Dale,
one in the morning, one in the evening. Lastly, in the earliest dawn of
the third day from the Folk-mote shall the Woodlanders wend their ways.
But one hundred of men let us leave behind for the warding of the Burg,
even as we agreed before. As for the place of tryst for the faring over
the Waste, let it be the end of the knolls just by the jaws of the pass
yonder, where the Weltering Water comes into the Dale from the East. How
say ye?’
They all said, and Folk-might especially, that it was right well devised,
and that thus it should be done.
Then turned Face-of-god to the Dale-warden, and said:
‘It were good, brother, that we saw the other wardens as soon as may be,
to do them to wit of this order, and what they have to do.’
Therewith he arose and took the Elder of the Dale-wardens away with him,
and the twain set about their business straight-way. Neither did the
others abide long in the Hall, but went out into the Burg to see the
chapmen and their wares. There the Alderman bought what he needed of
iron and steel and other matters; and Folk-might cheapened him a dagger
curiously wrought, and a web of gold and silk for the Sun-beam, for which
wares he paid in silver arm-rings, new-wrought and of strange fashion.
But amidst of the chaffer was now a great ring of men; and in the midst
of the ring stood Redesman, fiddle and bow in hand, and with him were
four damsels wondrously arrayed; for the first was clad in a smock so
craftily wrought with threads of green and many colours, that it seemed
like a piece of the green field beset with primroses and cowslips and
harebells and windflowers, rather than a garment woven and sewn; and in
her hand she bore a naked sword, with golden hilts and gleaming blade.
But the second bore on her roses done in like manner, both blossoms and
green leaves, wherewith her body was covered decently, which else had
been naked. The third was clad as though she were wading the wheat-field
to the waist, and above was wrapped in the leaves and bunches of the
wine-tree. And the fourth was clad in a scarlet gown flecked with white
wool to set forth the winter’s snow, and broidered over with the burning
brands of the Holy Hearth; and she bore on her head a garland of
mistletoe. And these four damsels were clearly seen to image the four
seasons of the year—Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. But amidst them
stood a fountain or conduit of gilded work cunningly wrought, and full of
the best wine of the Dale, and gilded cups and beakers hung about it.
So now Redesman fell to caressing his fiddle with the bow till it began
to make sweet music, and therewith the hearts of all danced with it; and
presently words come into his mouth, and he fell to singing; and the
damsels answered him:
Earth-wielders, that fashion the Dale-dwellers’ treasure,
Soft are ye by seeming, yet hardy of heart!
No warrior amongst us withstandeth your pleasure;
No man from his meadow may thrust you apart.
Fresh and fair are your bodies, but far beyond telling
Are the years of your lives, and the craft ye have stored.
Come give us a word, then, concerning our dwelling,
And the days to befall us, the fruit of the sword.
_Winter saith_:
When last in the feast-hall the Yule-fire flickered,
The foot of no foeman fared over the snow,
And nought but the wind with the ash-branches bickered:
Next Yule ye may deem it a long time ago.
_Autumn saith_:
Loud laughed ye last year in the wheat-field a-smiting;
And ye laughed as your backs drave the beam of the press.
When the edge of the war-sword the acres are lighting
Look up to the Banner and laugh ye no less.
_Summer saith_:
Ye called and I came, and how good was the greeting,
When ye wrapped me in roses both bosom and side!
Here yet shall I long, and be fain of our meeting,
As hidden from battle your coming I bide.
_Spring saith_:
I am here for your comfort, and lo! what I carry;
The blade with the bright edges bared to the sun.
To the field, to the work then, that e’en I may tarry
For the end of the tale in my first days begun!
Therewith the throng opened, and a young man stepped lightly into the
ring, clad in very fair armour, with a gilded helm on his head; and he
took the sword from the hand of the Maiden of Spring, and waved it in the
air till the westering sun flashed back from it. Then each of the four
damsels went up to the swain and kissed his mouth; and Redesman drew the
bow across the strings, and the four damsels sang together, standing
round about the young warrior:
It was but a while since for earth’s sake we trembled,
Lest the increase our life-days had won for the Dale,
All the wealth that the moons and the years had assembled,
Should be but a mock for the days of your bale.
But now we behold the sun smite on the token
In the hand of the Champion, the heart of a man;
We look down the long years and see them unbroken;
Forth fareth the Folk by the ways it began.
So bid ye these chapmen in autumn returning,
To bring iron for ploughshares and steel for the scythe,
And the over-sea oil that hath felt the sun’s burning,
And fair webs for your women soft-spoken and blithe;
And pledge ye your word in the market to meet them,
As many a man and as many a maid,
As eager as ever, as guest-fain to greet them,
And bide till the booth from the waggon is made.
Come, guests of our lovers! for we, the year-wielders,
Bid each man and all to come hither and take
A cup from our hands midst the peace of our shielders,
And drink to the days of the Dale that we make.
Then went the damsels to that wine-fountain, and drew thence cups of the
best and brightest wine of the Dale, and went round about the ring, and
gave drink to whomsoever would, both of the chapmen and the others; while
the weaponed youth stood in the midst bearing aloft his sword and shield
like an image in a holy place, and Redesman’s bow still went up and down
the strings, and drew forth a sweet and merry tune.
Great game it was now to see the stark Burgdale carles dragging the Men
of the Plain, little loth, up to the front of the ring, that they might
stretch out their hands for a cup, and how many a one, as he took it,
took as much as he might of the damsel’s hand withal. As for the
damsels, they played the Holy Play very daintily, neither reddening nor
laughing, but faring so solemnly, and withal so sweetly and bright-faced,
that it might well have been deemed that they were in very sooth Maidens
of the God of Earth sent from the ever-enduring Hall to cheer the hearts
of men.
So simply and blithely did the Men of Burgdale disport them after the
manner of their fathers, trusting in their valour and beholding the good
days to be.
So wore the evening, and when night was come, men feasted throughout the
Burg from house to house, and every hall was full. But the Guests from
Shadowy Vale feasted in the Hall of the Face in all glee and goodwill;
and with them were the chief of the chapmen and two others; but the rest
of them had been laid hold of by goodmen of the Burg, and dragged into
their feast-halls, for they were fain of those guests and their tales.
One of the chapmen in the House of the Face knew Folk-might, and hailed
him by the name he had borne in the Cities, Regulus to wit; indeed, the
chief chapman knew him, and even somewhat over-well, for he had been held
to ransom by Folk-might in those past days, and even yet feared him,
because he, the chapman, had played somewhat of a dastard’s part to him.
But the other was an open-hearted and merry fellow, and no weakling; and
Folk-might was fain of his talk concerning times bygone, and the fields
they had foughten in, and other adventures that had befallen them, both
good and evil.
As for Face-of-god, he went about the Hall soberly, and spake no more
than behoved him, so as not to seem a mar-feast; for the image of the
slaughter to be yet abode with him, and his heart foreboded the
after-grief of the battle. He had no speech with the Sun-beam till men
were sundering after the feast, and then he came close to her amidst of
the turmoil, and said:
‘Time presses on me these days; but if thou wouldest speak with me
to-morrow as I would with thee, then mightest thou go on the Bridge of
the Burg about sunrise, and I will be there, and we two only.’
Her face, which had been somewhat sad that evening (for she had been
watching his), brightened at that word, and she took his hand as folk
came thronging round about them, and said:
‘Yea, friend, I shall be there, and fain of thee.’ And therewithal they
sundered for that night.
And all men went to sleep throughout the Burg: howbeit they set a watch
at the Burg-Gate; and Hall-face, when he was coming back from the
woodland ward about sunset, fell in with Redcoat of Waterless and four
score men on the Portway coming to meet him and take his place. All
which was clean contrary to the wont of the Burgdalers, who at most
whiles held no watch and ward, not even in Fair-time.