FACE-OF-GOD was at the Bridge on the morrow before sun-rising, and as he
turned about at the Bridge-foot he saw the Sun-beam coming down the
street; and his heart rose to his mouth at the sight of her, and he went
to meet her and took her by the hand; and there were no words between
them till they had kissed and caressed each other, for there was no one
stirring about them. So they went over the Bridge into the meadows, and
eastward of the beaten path thereover.
The grass was growing thick and strong, and it was full of flowers, as
the cowslip and the oxlip, and the chequered daffodil, and the wild
tulip: the black-thorn was well-nigh done blooming, but the hawthorn was
in bud, and in some places growing white. It was a fair morning, warm
and cloudless, but the night had been misty, and the haze still hung
about the meadows of the Dale where they were wettest, and the grass and
its flowers were heavy with dew, so that the Sun-beam went barefoot in
the meadow. She had a dark cloak cast over her kirtle, and had left her
glittering gown behind her in the House.
They went along hand in hand exceeding fain of each other, and the sun
rose as they went, and the long beams of gold shone through the tops of
the tall trees across the grass they trod, and a light wind rose up in
the north, as Face-of-god stayed a moment and turned toward the Face of
the Sun and prayed to Him, while the Sun-beam’s hand left the
War-leader’s hand and stole up to his golden locks and lay amongst them.
Presently they went on, and the feet of Face-of-god led him unwitting
toward the chestnut grove by the old dyke where he had met the Bride such
a little while ago, till he bethought whither he was going and stopped
short and reddened; and the Sun-beam noted it, but spake not; but he
said: ‘Hereby is a fair place for us to sit and talk till the day’s work
beginneth.’
So then he turned aside, and soon they came to a hawthorn brake out of
which arose a great tall-stemmed oak, showing no green as yet save a
little on its lower twigs; and anigh it, yet with room for its boughs to
grow freely, was a great bird-cherry tree, all covered now with
sweet-smelling white blossoms. There they sat down on the trunk of a
tree felled last year, and she cast off her cloak, and took his face
between her two hands and kissed him long and fondly, and for a while
their joy had no word. But when speech came to them, it was she that
spake first and said:
‘Gold-mane, my dear, sorely I wonder at thee and at me, how we are
changed since that day last autumn when I first saw thee. Whiles I
think, didst thou not laugh when thou wert by thyself that day, and mock
at me privily, that I must needs take such wisdom on myself, and lesson
thee standing like a stripling before me. Dost thou not call it all to
mind and make merry over it, now that thou art become a great chieftain
and a wise warrior, and I am yet what I always was, a young maiden of the
kindred; save that now I abide no longer for my love?’
Her face was exceeding bright and rippled with joyous smiles, and he
looked at her and deemed that her heart was overflowing with happiness,
and he wondered at her indeed that she was so glad of him, and he said:
‘Yea, indeed, oft do I see that morning in the woodland hall and thee and
me therein, as one looketh on a picture; yea verily, and I laugh, yet is
it for very bliss; neither do I mock at all. Did I not deem thee a God
then? and am I not most happy now when I can call it thus to mind? And
as to thee, thou wert wise then, and yet art thou wise now. Yea, I
thought thee a God; and if we are changed, is it not rather that thou
hast lifted me up to thee, and not come down to me?’
Yet therewithal he knit his brows somewhat and said:
‘Yet thou hast not to tell me that all thy love for thy Folk, and thy
yearning hope for its recoverance, was but a painted show. Else why
shouldst thou love me the better now that I am become a chieftain, and
therefore am more meet to understand thy hope and thy sorrow? Did I not
behold thee as we stood before the Wolf of the Hall of Shadowy Vale, how
the tears stood in thine eyes as thou beheldest him, and thine hand in
mine quivered and clung to me, and thou wert all changed in a moment of
time? Was all this then but a seeming and a beguilement?’
‘O young man,’ she said, ‘hast thou not said it, that we stood there
close together, and my hand in thine and desire growing up in me? Dost
thou not know how this also quickeneth the story of our Folk, and our
goodwill towards the living, and remembrance of the dead? Shall they
have lived and desired, and we deny desire and life? Or tell me: what
was it made thee so chieftain-like in the Hall yesterday, so that thou
wert the master of all our wills, for as self-willed as some of us were?
Was it not that I, whom thou deemest lovely, was thereby watching thee
and rejoicing in thee? Did not the sweetness of thy love quicken thee?
Yet because of that was thy warrior’s wisdom and thy foresight an empty
show? Heedest thou nought the Folk of the Dale? Wouldest thou sunder
from the children of the Fathers, and dwell amongst strangers?’
He kissed her and smiled on her and said: ‘Did I not say of thee that
thou wert wiser than the daughters of men? See how wise thou hast made
me!’
She spake again: ‘Nay, nay, there was no feigning in my love for my
people. How couldest thou think it, when the Fathers and the kindred
have made this body that thou lovest, and the voice of their songs is in
the speech thou deemest sweet?’
He said: ‘Sweet friend, I deemed not that there was feigning in thee: I
was but wondering what I am and how I was fashioned, that I should make
thee so glad that thou couldst for a while forget thy hope of the days
before we met.’
She said: ‘O how glad, how glad! Yet was I nought hapless. In despite
of all trouble I had no down-weighing grief, and I had the hope of my
people before me. Good were my days; but I knew not till now how glad a
child of man may be.’
Their words were hushed for a while amidst their caresses. Then she
said:
‘Gold-mane, my friend, I mocked not my past self because I deem that I
was a fool then, but because I see now that all that my wisdom could do,
would have come about without my wisdom; and that thou, deeming thyself
something less than wise, didst accomplish the thing I craved, and that
which thou didst crave also; and withal wisdom embraced thee, along with
love.’
Therewith she cast her arms about him and said:
‘O friend, I mock myself of this: that erst thou deemedst me a God and
fearedst me, but now thou seemest to me to be a God, and I fear thee.
Yea, though I have longed so sore to be with thee since the day of
Shadowy Vale, and though I have wearied of the slow wearing of the days,
and it hath tormented me; yet now that I am with thee, I bless the
torment of my longing; for it is but my longing that compelleth me to
cast away my fear of thee and caress thee, because I have learned how
sweet it is to love thee thus.’
He wound his arms about her, and sweeter was their longing than mere joy;
and though their love was beyond measure, yet was therein no shame to
aught, not even to the lovely Dale and that fair season of spring, so
goodly they were among the children of men.
In a while they arose and turned homeward, and went over the open meadow,
and it was yet early, and the dew was as heavy on the grass as before,
though the wide sunlight was now upon it, glittering on the wet blades,
and shining through the bells of the chequered daffodils till they looked
like gouts of blood.
‘Look,’ said Sun-beam, as they went along by the same way whereas they
came, ‘deemest thou not that other speech-friends besides us have been
abroad to talk together apart on this morning of the eve of battle. It
is nought unwonted, that we do, even though we forget the trouble of the
people to think of our own joy for a while.’
The smile died out of her face as she spoke, and she said:
‘O friend, this much may I say for myself in all sooth, that indeed I
would die for the kindred and its good days, nor falter therein; but if I
am to die, might I but die in thine arms!’
He looked very lovingly on her, and put his arm about her and kissed her
and said: ‘What ails us to stand in the doom-ring and bear witness
against ourselves before the kindred? Now I will say, that whatsoever
the kindred may or can call upon me to do, that will I do, nor grudge the
deed: I am sackless before them. But that is true which I spake to thee
when we came together up out of Shadowy Vale, to wit, that I am no
strifeful man, but a peaceful; and I look to it to win through this war,
and find on the other side either death, or life amongst a happy folk;
and I deem that this is mostly the mind of our people.’
She said: ‘Thou shalt not die, thou shalt not die!’
‘Mayhappen not,’ he said; ‘yet yesterday I could not but look into the
slaughter to come, and it seemed to me a grim thing, and darkened the day
for me; and I grew acold as a man walking with the dead. But tell me:
thou sayest I shall not die; dost thou say this only because I am become
dear to thee, or dost thou speak it out of thy foresight of things to
come?’
She stopped and looked silently a while over the meadows towards the
houses of the Thorp: they were standing now on the border of a shallow
brook that ran down toward the Weltering Water; it had a little strand of
fine sand like the sea-shore, driven close together, and all moist,
because that brook was used to flood the meadow for the feeding of the
grass; and the last evening the hatches which held up the water had been
drawn, so that much had ebbed away and left the strand aforesaid.
After a while the Sun-beam turned to Face-of-god, and she was become
somewhat pale; she said:
‘Nay, I have striven to see, and can see nought save the picture of hope
and fear that I make for myself. So it oft befalleth foreseeing women,
that the love of a man cloudeth their vision. Be content, dear friend;
it is for life or death; but whichso it be, the same for me and thee
together?’
‘Yea,’ he said, ‘and well content I am; so now let each of us trust in
the other to be both good and dear, even as I trusted in thee the first
hour that I looked on thee.’
‘It is well,’ she said; ‘it is well. How fair thou art; and how fair is
the morn, and this our Dale in the goodly season; and all this abideth us
when the battle is over.’
Once more her voice became sweet and wheedling, and the smile lit up her
face again, and she pointed down to the sand with her finger, and said:
‘See thou! Here indeed have other lovers passed by across the brook.
Shall we wish them good luck?’
He laughed and looked down on the sand, and said:
‘Thou art in haste to make a story up. Indeed I see that these first
footprints are of a woman, for no carle of the Dale has a foot as small;
for we be tall fellows; and these others withal are a man’s footprints;
and if they showed that they had been walking side by side, simple had
been thy tale; but so it is not. I cannot say that these two pairs of
feet went over the brook within five minutes of each other; but sure it
is that they could not have been faring side by side. Well, belike they
were lovers bickering, and we may wish them luck out of that. Truly it
is well seen that Bow-may hath done thine hunting for thee, dear friend;
or else wouldest thou have lacked venison; for thou hast no hunter’s
eye.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘but wish them luck, and give me thine hand upon it.’
He took her hand, and fondled it, and said: ‘By this hand of my
speech-friend, I wish these twain all luck, in love and in leisure, in
faring and fighting, in sowing and samming, in getting and giving. Is it
well enough wished? If so it be, then come thy ways, dear friend; for
the day’s work is at hand.’
‘It is well wished,’ she said. ‘Now hearken: by the valiant hand of the
War-leader, by the hand that shall unloose my girdle, I wish these twain
to be as happy as we be.’
He made as if to draw her away, but she hung aback to set the print of
her foot beside the woman’s foot, and then they went on together, and
soon crossed the Bridge, and came home to the House of the Face.
When they had broken their fast, Face-of-god would straight get to his
business of ordering matters for the warfare, and was wishful to speak
with Folk-might; but found him not, either in the House or the street.
But a man said:
‘I saw the tall Guest come abroad from the House and go toward the Bridge
very early in the morning.’
The Sun-beam, who was anigh when that was spoken, heard it and smiled,
and said: ‘Gold-mane, deemest thou that it was my brother whom we
blessed?’
‘I wot not,’ he said; ‘but I would he were here, for this gear must
speedily be looked to.’
Nevertheless it was nigh an hour before Folk-might came home to the
House. He strode in lightly and gaily, and shaking the crest of his
war-helm as he went. He looked friendly on Face-of-god, and said to him:
‘Thou hast been seeking me, War-leader; but grudge it not that I have
caused thee to tarry. For as things have gone, I am twice the man for
thine helping that I was yester-eve; and thou art so ready and deft, that
all will be done in due time.’
He looked as if he would have had Face-of-god ask of him what made him so
fain, but Face-of-god said only:
‘I am glad of thy gladness; but now let us dally no longer, for I have
many folk to see to-day and much to set a-going.’
So therewith they spake together a while, and then went their ways
together toward Carlstead and the Woodlanders.