Nay, the
very lads of fifteen winters or so, whereof a few were there, seemed
bold and bright-eyed and keen of wit, and it seemed like that if the
warriors fared afield these would be with them.
So wore the feast; and Folk-might as aforetime amongst the healths
called on men to drink to the Jaws of the Wolf, and the Red Hand, and
the Silver Arm, and the Golden Bushel, and the Ragged Sword. But now
had Face-of-god no need to ask what these meant, since he knew that
they were the names of the kindreds of the Wolf. They drank also to
the troth-plight and to those twain, and shouted aloud over the
health and clashed their weapons: and Gold-mane wondered what echo
of that shout would reach to Burgstead.
Then sang men songs of old time, and amongst them Wood-wont stood
with his fiddle amidst the Hall and Bow-may beside him, and they sang
in turn to it sweetly and clearly; and this is some of what they
sang:
She singeth.
Wild is the waste and long leagues over;
Whither then wend ye spear and sword,
Where nought shall see your helms but the plover,
Far and far from the dear Dale's sward?
He singeth.
Pages:
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220