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 Silverdale; and then Redesman handled his fiddle once more, and again the song rose up, and suchlike were the words which were borne back into the Marketplace of Silverstead:
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 today and tomorrow
Is waxing the oak-tree of peace and goodwill.
Thus then they departed from Silverdale, even as men who were a portion thereof, and had not utterly left it behind. And that night they lay in the wildwood not very far from the Dale’s end; for they went softly, faring amongst so many friends.
LVI
Talk Upon the Wildwood 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 greensward 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 Silverdale 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 Silverdale 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 Silverstead 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 forever 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.”
“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, Silverdale!” 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.
LVII
How the Host Came Home Again
It was fourteen days before they came to Rosedale; 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 of 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 Silverdale, and others not. The Burgdalers received them all, for it seemed to them no great matter for a score or so of newcomers to the Dale.
But when the Host was come to Rosedale, 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 Rosedale by Dallach and his folk.
Before
