So all these notched their shafts and laid them on the yew, and each
had between the two last fingers of the shaft-hand another shaft
ready, and a half score more stuck into the ground before him.
Now giveth Wood-wise the word to these sixteen as to which of the
felons with the glaives they shall each one aim at; and he saith
withal in a soft voice: 'Help cometh from the Hill; soon shall
battle be joined in Silver-dale.'
Thus stand they watching Bow-may and Gold-ring till they draw home
the notches; and amidst their waiting the glaive-bearing felons fall
a-singing a harsh and ugly hymn to their crooked-sword god, and the
Market-stead is thronged endlong and overthwart with the tribes of
the Dusky Men.
There now standeth Bow-may far-sighted and keen-eyed, her face as
pale as a linen sleeve, an awful smile on her glittering eyes and
close-set lips, and she feeling the twisted string of the red yew and
the polished sides of the notch, while the yelling song of the Dusky
priests quavers now and ends with a wild shrill cry, and she noteth
the midmost of the priests beginning to handle his weapon: then
swift and steady she draweth home the notches, while the yew bow
standeth still as the oak-bole ere the summer storm ariseth, and the
twang of the sixteen strings maketh but one fell sound as the
feathered bane of men goeth on its way.
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