The Roots of the Mountains<br />Wherein Is Told Somewhat of the Lives of the Men of Burgdale, Their by William Morris (best love story novels in english TXT) 📖

a husbandman shall I be.  Moreover, doubt ye not that I shall do my utmost to behold the fair Dale again; for it is but mountains that meet not.’

Now spake Face-of-god to Folk-might, smiling and somewhat softly, and said: ‘Is all forgiven now, since the day when we first felt each other’s arms?’

‘Yea, all,’ said Folk-might; ‘now hath befallen what I foretold thee in Shadowy Vale, that thou mightest pay for all that had come and gone, if thou wouldest but look to it.  Indeed thou wert angry with me for that saying on that eve of Shadowy Vale; but see thou, in those days I was an older man than thou, and might admonish thee somewhat; but now, though but few days have gone over thine head, yet many deeds have abided in thine hand, and thou art much aged.  Anger hath left thee, and wisdom hath p. 400waxed in thee.  As for me, I may now say this word: May the Folk of Burgdale love the Folk of Silver-dale as well as I love thee; then shall all be well.’

Then Face-of-god cast his arms about him and kissed him, and turned away toward Stone-face and Hall-face his brother, where they stood at the head of the array of the Face; and even therewith came up the Alderman somewhat sad and sober of countenance, and he pushed by the War-leader roughly and would not speak with him.

And now blew up the horns of the Shepherds, and they began to move on amidst the shouting of the men of Silver-dale; yet were there amongst the Woodlanders those who wept when they saw their friends verily departing from them.

But when they of the foremost of the Host were gotten so far forward that the men of the Face could begin to move, lo! there was Redesman with his fiddle amongst the leaders; and he had done a man’s work in the day of battle, and all looked kindly on him.  About him on this morn were some who had learned the craft of singing well together, and knew his minstrelsy, and he turned to these and nodded as their array moved on, and he drew his bow across the strings, and straightway they fell a-singing, even as it might be thus:

Back again to the dear Dale where born was the kindred,
   Here wend we all living, and liveth our mirth.
Here afoot fares our joyance, whatever men hindred,
   Through all wrath of the heavens, all storms of the earth.

O true, we have left here a part of our treasure,
   The ashes of stout ones, the stems of the shield;
But the bold lives they spended have sown us new pleasure,
   Fair tales for the telling in fold and on field.

For as oft as we sing of their edges’ upheaving,
   When the yellowing windows shine forth o’er the night,
p. 401Their names unforgotten with song interweaving
   Shall draw forth dear drops from the depths of delight.

Or when down by our feet the grey sickles are lying,
   And behind us is curling the supper-tide smoke,
No whit shall they grudge us the joyance undying,
   Remembrance of men that put from us the yoke.

When the huddle of ewes from the fells we have driven,
   And we see down the Dale the grey reach of the roof,
We shall tell of the gift in the battle-joy given,
   All the fierceness of friends that drave sorrow aloof.

Once then we lamented, and mourned them departed;
   Once only, no oftener.  Henceforth shall we fling
Their names up aloft, when the merriest hearted
   To the Fathers unseen of our life-days we sing.

Then was there silence in the ranks of men; and many murmured the names of the fallen as they fared on their way from out the Market-place of Silver-stead.  Then once more Redesman and his mates took up the song:

Come tell me, O friends, for whom bideth the maiden
   Wet-foot from the river-ford down in the Dale?
For whom hath the goodwife the ox-waggon laden
   With the babble of children, brown-handed and hale?

Come tell me for what are the women abiding,
   Till each on the other aweary they lean?
Is it loitering of evil that thus they are chiding,
   The slow-footed bearers of sorrow unseen?

Nay, yet were they toiling if sorrow had worn them,
   Or hushed had they bided with lips parched and wan.
The birds of the air other tidings have borne them—
   How glad through the wood goeth man beside man.

p. 402Then fare forth, O valiant, and loiter no longer
   Than the cry of the cuckoo when May is at hand;
Late waxeth the spring-tide, and daylight grows longer,
   And nightly the star-street hangs high o’er the land.

Many lives, many days for the Dale do ye carry;
   When the Host breaketh out from the thicket unshorn,
It shall be as the sun that refuseth to tarry
   On the crown of all mornings, the Midsummer morn.

Again the song fell down till they were well on the western way down Silver-dale; and then Redesman handled his fiddle once more, and again the song rose up, and such-like were the words which were borne back into the Market-place of Silver-stead:

And yet what is this, and why fare ye so slowly,
   While our echoing halls of our voices are dumb,
And abideth unlitten the hearth-brand the holy,
   And the feet of the kind fare afield till we come?

For not yet through the wood and its tangle ye wander;
   Now skirt we no thicket, no path by the mere;
Far aloof for our feet leads the Dale-road out yonder;
   Full fair is the morning, its doings all clear.

There is nought now our feet on the highway delaying
   Save the friend’s loving-kindness, the sundering of speech;
The well-willer’s word that ends words with the saying,
   The loth to depart while each looketh on each.

Fare on then, for nought are ye laden with sorrow;
   The love of this land do ye bear with you still.
In two Dales of the earth for to-day and to-morrow
   Is waxing the oak-tree of peace and good-will.

Thus then they departed from Silver-dale, even as men who were a portion thereof, and had not utterly left it behind.  And p. 403that night they lay in the wild-wood not very far from the Dale’s end; for they went softly, faring amongst so many friends.

CHAPTER LVI.  TALK UPON THE WILD-WOOD WAY.

On the morrow morning when they were on their way again Face-of-god left his own folk to go with the House of the Steer a while; and amongst them he fell in with the Sun-beam going along with Bow-may.  So they greeted him kindly, and Face-of-god fell into talk with the Sun-beam as they went side by side through a great oak-wood, where for a space was plain green-sward bare of all underwood.

So in their talk he said to her: ‘What deemest thou, my speech-friend, concerning our coming back to guest in Silver-dale one day?’

‘The way is long,’ she said.

‘That may hinder us but not stay us,’ said Face-of-god.

‘That is sooth,’ said the Sun-beam.

Said Face-of-god: ‘What things shall stay us?  Or deemest thou that we shall never see Silver-dale again?’

She smiled: ‘Even so I think thou deemest, Gold-mane.  But many things shall hinder us besides the long road.’

Said he: ‘Yea, and what things?’

‘Thinkest thou,’ said the Sun-beam, ‘that the winning of Silver-stead is the last battle which thou shalt see?’

‘Nay,’ said he, ‘nay.’

‘Shall thy Dale—our Dale—be free from all trouble within itself henceforward?  Is there a wall built round it to keep out for ever storm, pestilence, and famine, and the waywardness of its own folk?’

‘So it is as thou sayest,’ quoth Face-of-god, ‘and to meet such troubles and overcome them, or to die in strife with them, this is a great part of a man’s life.’

p. 404‘Yea,’ she said, ‘and hast thou forgotten that thou art now a great chieftain, and that the folk shall look to thee to use thee many days in the year?’

He laughed and said: ‘So it is.  How many days have gone by since I wandered in the wood last autumn, that the world should have changed so much!’

‘Many deeds shall now be in thy days,’ she said, ‘and each deed as the corn of wheat from which cometh many corns; and a man’s days on the earth are not over many.’

‘Then farewell, Silver-dale!’ said he, waving his hand toward the north.  ‘War and trouble may bring me back to thee, but it maybe nought else shall.  Farewell!’

She looked on him fondly but unsmiling, as he went beside her strong and warrior-like.  Three paces from him went Bow-may, barefoot, in her white kirtle, but bearing her bow in her hand; a leash of arrows was in her girdle, her quiver hung at her back, and she was girt with a sword.  On the other side went Wood-wont and Wood-wise, lightly clad but weaponed.  Wood-mother was riding in an ox-wain just behind them, and Wood-father went beside her bearing an axe.  Scattered all about them were the men of the Steer, gaily clad, bearing weapons, so that the oak-wood was bright with them, and the glades merry with their talk and singing and laughter, and before them down the glades went the banner of the Steer, and the White Beast led them the nearest way to Burgdale.

CHAPTER LVII.  HOW THE HOST CAME HOME AGAIN.

It was fourteen days before they came to Rose-dale; for they had much baggage with them, and they had no mind to weary themselves, and the wood was nothing loathsome to them, whereas the weather was fair and bright for the more part.  They fell in with no mishap by the way.  But a score and three p. 405of runaways joined themselves to the Host, having watched their goings and wotting that they were not foemen.  Of these, some had heard of the overthrow of the Dusky Men in Silver-dale, and others not.  The Burgdalers received them all, for it seemed to them no great matter for a score or so of new-comers to the Dale.

But when the Host was come to Rose-dale, they found it fair arid lovely; and there they met with those of their folk who had gone with Dallach.  But Dallach welcomed the kindreds with great joy, and bade them abide; for he said that they had the less need to hasten, since he had sent messengers into Burgdale to tell men there of the tidings.  Albeit they were mostly loth to tarry; yet when he lay hard on them not to depart as men on the morrow of a gild-feast, they abode there three days, and were as well guested as might be, and on their departure they were laden with gifts from the wealth of Rose-dale by Dallach and his folk.

Before they went their ways Dallach spake with Face-of-god and the chiefs of the Dalesmen, and said:

‘Ye have given me much from the time when ye found me in the wood a naked wastrel; yet now I would ask you a gift to lay on the top of all that ye have given me.’

Said Face-of-god: ‘Name the gift, and thou shalt have it; for we deem thee our friend.’

‘I am no less,’ said Dallach, ‘as in time to come I may perchance be able to show you.  But now I am asking you to suffer a score or two of your men to abide here with me this summer, till I see how this folk new-born again is like to deal with me.  For pleasure and a fair life have become so strange to them, that they scarce know what to do with them, or how to live; and unless all is to go awry, I must needs command and forbid; and though belike they love me, yet they fear me not; so that when my commandment pleaseth them, they do as I bid, and when it pleaseth them not, they do contrary to my p. 406bidding; for it hath got into their minds that I shall in no case lift a hand against them, which indeed is the very sooth.  But your folk they fear as warriors of the world, who have slain the Dusky Men in the Market-place of Silver-stead; and they are of alien blood to them, men who will do as their friend biddeth (think our folk) against them who are neither friends or foes.  With such help I shall be well holpen.’

In such wise spake Dallach; and Face-of-god and the chiefs said that so it should be, if men could be found willing to abide in Rose-dale for a while.  And when the matter was put abroad,