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Morris, William, 1834-1896

"The Roots of the Mountains; Wherein Is Told Somewhat of the Lives of the Men of Burgdale"


There was silence for a moment of time in the Market of Silver-stead,
as if the bolt of the Gods had fallen there; and then arose a huge
wordless yell from those about the altar, and one of the priests who
was left hove up his glaive two-handed to smite the naked slaughter-
thralls; but or ever the stroke fell, Bow-may's second shaft was
through his throat, and he rolled over amidst his dead fellows; and
the other fifteen had loosed with her, and then even as they could
Wood-wise and the others of their company; and all they notched and
loosed without tarrying, and no shout, no word came from their lips,
only the twanging strings spake for them; for they deemed the minutes
that hurried by were worth much joy of their lives to be. And few
indeed were the passing minutes ere the dead men lay in heaps about
the Altar of the Crooked Sword, and the wounded men wallowed amidst
them.

CHAPTER XLIV. OF THE ONSLAUGHT OF THE MEN OF THE STEER, THE BRIDGE,
AND THE BULL

Wild was the turmoil and confusion in the Market-stead; for the more
part of the men therein knew not what had befallen about the altar,
though some clomb up to the top of that stack of faggots built for
the burning of the thralls, and when they saw what was toward fell to
yelling and cursing; and their fellows on the plain Place could not
hear their story for the clamour, and they also fell to howling as if
a wood full of wild dogs was there.


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