XXII
Face-of-God Cometh Home to Burgstead
But Face-of-god with Bow-may and Wood-wise fared over the waste, going at first alongside the cliffs of the Shivering Flood, and then afterwards turning somewhat to the west. They soon had to climb a very high and steep bent going up to a mountain-neck; and the way over the neck was rough indeed when they were on it, and they toiled out of it into a barren valley, and out of the valley again on to a rough neck; and suchlike their journey the day long, for they were going athwart all those great dykes that went from the ice-mountains toward the lower dales like the outspread fingers of a hand or the roots of a great tree. And the ice-mountains they had on their left hands and whiles at their backs.
They went very warily, with their bows bended and spear in hand, but saw no man, good or bad, and but few living things. At noon they rested in a valley where was a stream, but no grass, nought but stones and sand; but where they were at least sheltered from the wind, which was mostly very great in these high wastes; and there Bow-may drew meat and wine from a wallet she bore, and they ate and drank, and were merry enough; and Bow-may said:
“I would I were going all the way with thee, Gold-mane; for I long sore to let my eyes rest a while on the land where I shall one day live.”
“Yea,” said Face-of-god, “art thou minded to dwell there? We shall be glad of that.”
“Whither are thy wits straying?” said she; “whether I am minded to it or not, I shall dwell there.”
And Wood-wise nodded a yea to her. But Face-of-god said:
“Good will be thy dwelling; but wherefore must it be so?”
Then Wood-wise laughed and said: “I shall tell thee in fewer words than she will, and time presses now: Wood-father and Wood-mother, and I and my two brethren and this woman have ever been about and anigh the Sun-beam; and we deem that war and other troubles have made us of closer kin to her than we were born, whether ye call it brotherhood or whatnot, and never shall we sunder from her in life or in death. So when thou goest to Burgdale with her, there shall we be.”
Then was Face-of-god glad when he found that they deemed his wedding so settled and sure; but Wood-wise fell to making ready for the road. And Face-of-god said to him:
“Tell me one thing, Wood-wise; that whoop that thou gavest forth when we were at handy-strokes e’en now—is it but a cry of thine own or is it of thy Folk, and shall I hear it again?”
“Thou may’st look to hear it many a time,” said Wood-wise, “for it is the cry of the Wolf. Seldom indeed hath battle been joined where men of our blood are, but that cry is given forth. Come now, to the road!”
So they went their ways and the road worsened upon them, and toilsome was the climbing up steep bents and the scaling of doubtful paths in the cliff-sides, so that the journey, though the distance of it were not so long to the fowl flying, was much eked out for them, and it was not till near nightfall that they came on the ghyll of the Weltering Water some six miles above Burgstead. Forsooth Wood-wise said that the way might be made less toilsome though far longer by turning back eastward a little past the vale where they had rested at midday; and that seemed good to Gold-mane, in case they should be wending hereafter in a great company between Burgdale and Shadowy Vale.
But now those two went with Face-of-god down a path in the side of the cliff whereby him-seemed he had gone before; and they came down into the ghyll and sat down together on a stone by the waterside, and Face-of-god spake to them kindly, for he deemed them good and trusty faring-fellows.
“Bow-may,” said he, “thou saidst a while ago that thou wouldst be fain to look on Burgdale; and indeed it is fair and lovely, and ye may soon be in it if ye will. Ye shall both be more than welcome to the house of my father, and heartily I bid you thither. For night is on us, and the way back is long and toilsome and beset with peril. Sister Bow-may, thou wottest that it would be a sore grief to me if thou camest to any harm, and thou also, fellow Wood-wise. Daylight is a good faring-fellow over the waste.”
Said Bow-may: “Thou art kind, Gold-mane, and that is thy wont, I know; and fain were I tonight of the candles in thine hall. But we may not tarry; for thou wottest how busy we be at home; and Sun-beam needeth me, if it were only to make her sure that no Dusky Man is bearing off thine head by its lovely locks. Neither shall we journey in the mirk night; for look you, the moon yonder.”
“Well,” said Face-of-god, “parting is ill at the best, and I would I could give you twain a gift, and especially to thee, my sister Bow-may.”
Said Wood-wise: “Thou may’st well do that; or at least promise the gift; and that is all one as if we held it in our hands.”
“Yea,” said Bow-may, “Wood-wise and I have been thinking in one way belike; and I was at point to ask a gift of thee.”
“What is it?” said Gold-mane. “Surely it is thine, if it were but a guerdon for thy good shooting.”
She laughed and handled the skirts of his hauberk as she said:
“Show us the dint in thine helm that the steel axe made this morning.”
“There is no such great dint,” said he; “my father forged that helm, and his work is better than good.”
“Yea,” said Bow-may, “and might I have hauberk and helm of his
