Transcribed from the 1913 Longmans, Green and Co. edition by
David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org

THE STORY OF THE GLITTERING PLAIN WHICH HAS BEEN ALSO CALLED
THE LAND OF LIVING MEN OR THE ACRE OF THE UNDYING

WRITTEN

BY WILLIAM MORRIS

pocket
edition

LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO.

39 paternoster row, london

new york, bombay, and
calcutta

1913

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

First printed in the English Illustrated Magazine, Vol.
VII, 1890.

First Edition in book form, 200 copies printed at the
Kelmscott Press in the Golden Type, quarto, April 1891, Reeves
and Turner, with six copies on vellum.

Printed at the Kelmscott Press in the Troy Type, with
wood-engravings from designs by Walter Crane, 250 copies and
seven on vellum, January 1894.

Printed September 1891, in imperial 16mo.

Transferred to Longmans, Green and Co., June 1896.

Reprinted February 1898 and August 1904.

Included in Volume XIV of the Collected Works of William
Morris, July 1912.

Included in Longmans’ Pocket Library, November 1913.

CHAPTER I: OF THOSE THREE WHO CAME TO THE HOUSE OF THE
RAVEN

It has been told that there was once a young man of free
kindred and whose name was Hallblithe: he was fair, strong, and
not untried in battle; he was of the House of the Raven of old
time.

This man loved an exceeding fair damsel called the Hostage,
who was of the House of the Rose, wherein it was right and due
that the men of the Raven should wed.

She loved him no less, and no man of the kindred gainsaid
their love, and they were to be wedded on Midsummer Night.

But one day of early spring, when the days were yet short and
the nights long, Hallblithe sat before the porch of the house
smoothing an ash stave for his spear, and he heard the sound of
horse-hoofs drawing nigh, and he looked up and saw folk riding
toward the house, and so presently they rode through the garth
gate; and there was no man but he about the house, so he rose up
and went to meet them, and he saw that they were but three in
company: they had weapons with them, and their horses were of the
best; but they were no fellowship for a man to be afraid of; for
two of them were old and feeble, and the third was dark and sad,
and drooping of aspect: it seemed as if they had ridden far and
fast, for their spurs were bloody and their horses all
a-sweat.

Hallblithe hailed them kindly and said: “Ye are
way-worn, and maybe ye have to ride further; so light down and
come into the house, and take bite and sup, and hay and corn also
for your horses; and then if ye needs must ride on your way,
depart when ye are rested; or else if ye may, then abide here
night-long, and go your ways to-morrow, and meantime that which
is ours shall be yours, and all shall be free to you.”

Then spake the oldest of the elders in a high piping voice and
said: “Young man, we thank thee; but though the days of the
springtide are waxing, the hours of our lives are waning; nor may
we abide unless thou canst truly tell us that this is the Land of
the Glittering Plain: and if that be so, then delay not, lead us
to thy lord, and perhaps he will make us content.”

Spake he who was somewhat less stricken in years than the
first: “Thanks have thou! but we need something more than
meat and drink, to wit the Land of Living Men.  And Oh! but
the time presses.”

Spake the sad and sorry carle: “We seek the Land where
the days are many: so many that he who hath forgotten how to
laugh, may learn the craft again, and forget the days of
Sorrow.”

Then they all three cried aloud and said:

“Is this the Land?  Is this the Land?”

But Hallblithe wondered, and he laughed and said:
“Wayfarers, look under the sun down the plain which lieth
betwixt the mountains and the sea, and ye shall behold the
meadows all gleaming with the spring lilies; yet do we not call
this the Glittering Plain, but Cleveland by the Sea.  Here
men die when their hour comes, nor know I if the days of their
life be long enough for the forgetting of sorrow; for I am young
and not yet a yokefellow of sorrow; but this I know, that they
are long enough for the doing of deeds that shall not die. 
And as for Lord, I know not this word, for here dwell we, the
sons of the Raven, in good fellowship, with our wives that we
have wedded, and our mothers who have borne us, and our sisters
who serve us.  Again I bid you light down off your horses,
and eat and drink, and be merry; and depart when ye will, to seek
what land ye will.”

They scarce looked on him, but cried out together
mournfully:

“This is not the Land!  This is not the
Land!”

No more than that they said, but turned about their horses and
rode out through the garth gate, and went clattering up the road
that led to the pass of the mountains.  But Hallblithe
hearkened wondering, till the sound of their horse-hoofs died
away, and then turned back to his work: and it was then two hours
after high-noon.

CHAPTER II: EVIL TIDINGS COME TO HAND AT CLEVELAND

Not long had he worked ere he heard the sound of horsehoofs
once more, and he looked not up, but said to himself, “It
is but the lads bringing back the teams from the acres, and
riding fast and driving hard for joy of heart and in wantonness
of youth.”

But the sound grew nearer and he looked up and saw over the
turf wall of the garth the flutter of white raiment; and he
said:

“Nay, it is the maidens coming back from the sea-shore
and the gathering of wrack.”

So he set himself the harder to his work, and laughed, all
alone as he was, and said: “She is with them: now I will
not look up again till they have ridden into the garth, and she
has come from among them, and leapt off her horse, and cast her
arms about my neck as her wont is; and it will rejoice her then
to mock me with hard words and kind voice and longing heart; and
I shall long for her and kiss her, and sweet shall the coming
days seem to us: and the daughters of our folk shall look on and
be kind and blithe with us.”

Therewith rode the maidens into the garth, but he heard no
sound of laughter or merriment amongst them, which was contrary
to their wont; and his heart fell, and it was as if instead of
the maidens’ laughter the voices of those wayfarers came
back upon the wind crying out, “Is this the Land?  Is
this the Land?”

Then he looked up hastily, and saw the maidens drawing near,
ten of the House of the Raven, and three of the House of the
Rose; and he beheld them that their faces were pale and
woe-begone, and their raiment rent, and there was no joy in
them.  Hallblithe stood aghast while one who had gotten off
her horse (and she was the daughter of his own mother) ran past
him into the hall, looking not at him, as if she durst not: and
another rode off swiftly to the horse-stalls.  But the
others, leaving their horses, drew round about him, and for a
while none durst utter a word; and he stood gazing at them, with
the spoke-shave in his hand, he also silent; for he saw that the
Hostage was not with them, and he knew that now he was the
yokefellow of sorrow.

At last he spoke gently and in a kind voice, and said:
“Tell me, sisters, what evil hath befallen us, even if it
be the death of a dear friend, and the thing that may not be
amended.”

Then spoke a fair woman of the Rose, whose name was
Brightling, and said: “Hallblithe, it is not of death that
we have to tell, but of sundering, which may yet be
amended.  We were on the sand of the sea nigh the Ship-stead
and the Rollers of the Raven, and we were gathering the wrack and
playing together; and we saw a round-ship nigh to shore lying
with her sheet slack, and her sail beating the mast; but we
deemed it to be none other than some bark of the Fish-biters, and
thought no harm thereof, but went on running and playing amidst
the little waves that fell on the sand, and the ripples that
curled around our feet.  At last there came a small boat
from the side of the round-ship, and rowed in toward shore, and
still we feared not, though we drew a little aback from the surf
and let fall our gown-hems.  But the crew of that boat
beached her close to where we stood, and came hastily wading the
surf towards us; and we saw that they were twelve weaponed men,
great, and grim, and all clad in black raiment.  Then indeed
were we afraid, and we turned about and fled up the beach; but
now it was too late, for the tide was at more than half ebb and
long was the way over the sand to the place where we had left our
horses tied among the tamarisk-bushes.  Nevertheless we ran,
and had gotten up to the pebble-beach before they ran in amongst
us: and they caught us, and cast us down on to the hard
stones.

“Then they made us sit in a row on a ridge of the
pebbles; and we were sore afraid, yet more for defilement at
their hands than for death; for they were evil-looking men
exceeding foul of favour.  Then said one of them:
‘Which of all you maidens is the Hostage of the House of
the Rose?’

“Then all we kept silence, for we would not betray
her.  But the evil man spake again: ‘Choose ye then
whether we shall take one, or all of you across the waters in our
black ship.’  Yet still we others spake not, till
arose thy beloved, O Hallblithe, and said:

“‘Let it be one then, and not all; for I am the
Hostage.’

“‘How shalt thou make us sure thereof?’ said
the evil carle.

“She looked on him proudly and said: ‘Because I
say it.’

“‘Wilt thou swear it?’ said he.

“‘Yea,’ said she, ‘I swear it by the
token of the House wherein I shall wed; by the wings of the Fowl
that seeketh the Field of Slaying.’

“‘It is enough,’ said the man, ‘come
thou with us.  And ye maidens sit ye there, and move not
till we have made way on our ship, unless ye would feel the point
of the arrow.  For ye are within bowshot of the ship, and we
have shot weapons aboard.’

“So the Hostage departed with them, and she unweeping,
but we wept sorely.  And we saw the small boat come up to
the side of the round-ship, and the Hostage going over the
gunwale along with those evil men, and we heard the hale and how
of the mariners as they drew up the anchor and sheeted home; and
then the sweeps came out and the ship began to move over the
sea.  And one of those evil-minded men bent his bow and shot
a shaft at us, but it fell far short of where we sat, and the
laugh of those runagates came over the sands to us.  So we
crept up the beach trembling, and then rose to our feet and got
to our horses, and rode hither speedily, and our hearts are
broken for thy sorrow.”

At that word came Hallblithe’s own sister out from the
hall; and she bore weapons with her, to wit Hallblithe’s
sword and shield and helm and hauberk.  As for him he turned
back silently to his work, and set the steel of the spear on the
new ashen shaft, and took the hammer and smote the nail in, and
laid the weapon on a round pebble that was thereby, and clenched
the nail on the other side.  Then he looked about, and saw
that the other damsel had brought him his coal-black war-horse
ready saddled and bridled; then he did on his armour, and girt
his sword to his side and leapt into the saddle, and took his
new-shafted spear in hand and shook the rein.  But none of
all those damsels durst say a word to him or ask him whither he
went, for they feared his face, and the sorrow of his
heart.  So he got him out of the garth and turned toward the
sea-shore, and they saw the glitter of his spear-point a minute
over the turf-wall, and heard the clatter of his horse-hoofs as
he galloped over the hard way; and thus he departed.

CHAPTER III: THE WARRIORS OF THE RAVEN SEARCH THE SEAS

Then the women bethought them, and they spake a word or two
together, and then they sundered and went one this way and one
that, to gather together the warriors of the Raven who were
a-field, or on the way, nigh unto the house, that they might
follow Hallblithe down to the sea-shore and help him; after a
while they came back again by one and two and three, bringing
with them the wrathful young men; and when there was upward of a
score gathered in the garth armed and horsed, they rode their
ways to the sea, being minded to thrust a long-ship of the Ravens
out over the Rollers into the sea, and follow the strong-thieves
of the waters and bring a-back the Hostage, so that they might
end the sorrow at once, and establish joy once more in the House
of the Raven and the House of the Rose.  But they had with
them three lads of fifteen winters or thereabouts to lead their
horses back home again, when they should have gone up on to the
Horse of the Brine.

Thus then they departed, and the maidens stood in the
garth-gate till they lost sight of them behind the sandhills, and
then turned back sorrowfully into the house, and sat there
talking low of their sorrow.  And many a time they had to
tell their tale anew, as folk came into the hall one after
another from field and fell.  But the young men came down to
the sea, and found Hallblithe’s black horse straying about
amongst the tamarisk-bushes above the beach; and they looked
thence over the sand, and saw neither Hallblithe nor any man: and
they gazed out seaward, and saw neither ship nor sail on the
barren brine.  Then they went down on to the sand, and
sundered their fellowship, and went half one way, half the other,
betwixt the sandhills and the surf, where now the tide was
flowing, till the nesses of the east and the west, the horns of
the bay, stayed them.  Then they met together again by the
Rollers, when the sun was within an hour of setting.  There
and then they laid hand to that ship which is called the Seamew,
and they ran her down over the Rollers into the waves, and leapt
aboard and hoisted sail, and ran out the oars and put to sea; and
a little wind was blowing seaward from the gates of the mountains
behind them.

So they quartered the sea-plain, as the kestrel doth the
water-meadows, till the night fell on them, and was cloudy,
though whiles the wading moon shone out; and they had seen
nothing, neither sail nor ship, nor aught else on the barren
brine, save the washing of waves and the hovering of
sea-fowl.  So they lay-to outside the horns of the bay and
awaited the dawning.  And when morning was come they made
way again, and searched the sea, and sailed to the out-skerries,
and searched them with care; then they sailed into the main and
fared hither and thither and up and down: and this they did for
eight days, and in all that time they saw no ship nor sail, save
three barks of the Fish-biters nigh to the Skerry which is called
Mew-stone.

So they fared home to the Raven Bay, and laid their keel on
the Rollers, and so went their ways sadly, home to the House of
the Raven: and they deemed that for this time they could do no
more in seeking their valiant kinsman and his fair damsel. 
And they were very sorry; for these two were well-beloved of all
men.  But since they might not amend it, they abode in
peace, awaiting what the change of days might bring them.

CHAPTER IV: NOW HALLBLITHE TAKETH THE SEA

Now must it be told of Hallblithe that he rode fiercely down
to the sea-shore, and from the top of the beach he gazed about
him, and there below him was the Ship-stead and Rollers of his
kindred, whereon lay the three long-ships, the Seamew, and the
Osprey and the Erne.  Heavy and huge they seemed to him as
they lay there, black-sided, icy-cold with the washing of the
March waves, their golden dragon-heads looking seaward
wistfully.  But first had he looked out into the offing, and
it was only when he had let his eyes come back from where the sea
and sky met, and they had beheld nothing but the waste of waters,
that he beheld the Ship-stead closely; and therewith he saw where
a little to the west of it lay a skiff, which the low wave of the
tide lifted and let fall from time to time.  It had a mast,
and a black sail hoisted thereon and flapping with slackened
sheet.  A man sat in the boat clad in black raiment, and the
sun smote a gleam from the helm on his head.  Then
Hallblithe leapt off his horse, and strode down the sands
shouldering his spear; and when he came near to the man in the
boat he poised his spear and shook it and cried out: “Man,
art thou friend or foe?”

Said the man: “Thou art a fair young man: but there is
grief in thy voice along with wrath.  Cast not till thou
hast heard me, and mayst deem whether I may do aught to heal thy
grief.”

“What mayst thou do?” said Hallblithe; “art
thou not a robber of the sea, a harrier of the folks that dwell
in peace?”

The man laughed: “Yea,” said he, “my craft
is thieving and carrying off the daughters of folk, so that we
may have a ransom for them.  Wilt thou come over the waters
with me?”

Hallblithe said wrathfully:

“Nay, rather, come thou ashore here!  Thou seemest
a big man, and belike shall be good of thine hands.  Come
and fight with me; and then he of us who is vanquished, if he be
unslain, shall serve the other for a year, and then shalt thou do
my business in the ransoming.”

The man in the boat laughed again, and that so scornfully that
he angered Hallblithe beyond measure: then he arose in the boat
and stood on his feet swaying from side to side as he
laughed.  He was passing big, long-armed and big-headed, and
long hair came from under his helm like the tail of a red horse;
his eyes were grey and gleaming, and his mouth wide.

In a while he stayed his laughter and said: “O Warrior
of the Raven, this were a simple game for thee to play; though it
is not far from my mind, for fighting when I needs must win is no
dull work.  Look you, if I slay or vanquish thee, then all
is said; and if by some chance stroke thou slayest me, then is
thine only helper in this matter gone from thee.  Now to be
short, I bid thee come aboard to me if thou wouldst ever hear
another word of thy damsel betrothed.  And moreover this
need not hinder thee to fight with me if thou hast a mind to it
thereafter; for we shall soon come to a land big enough for two
to stand on.  Or if thou listest to fight in a boat rocking
on the waves, I see not but there may be manhood in that
also.”

Now was the hot wrath somewhat run off Hallblithe, nor durst
he lose any chance to hear a word of his beloved; so he said:
“Big man, I will come aboard.  But look thou to it, if
thou hast a mind to bewray me; for the sons of the Raven die
hard.”

“Well,” said the big man, “I have heard that
their minstrels are of many words, and think that they have tales
to tell.  Come aboard and loiter not.”  Then
Hallblithe waded the surf and lightly strode over the gunwale of
the skiff and sat him down.  The big man thrust out into the
deep and haled home the sheet; but there was but little wind.

Then said Hallblithe: “Wilt thou have me row, for I wot
not whitherward to steer?”

Said the red carle: “Maybe thou art not in a hurry; I am
not: do as thou wilt.”  So Hallblithe took the oars
and rowed mightily, while the alien steered, and they went
swiftly and lightly over the sea, and the waves were little.

CHAPTER V: THEY COME UNTO THE ISLE OF RANSOM

So the sun grew low, and it set; the stars and the moon shone
a while and then it clouded over.  Hallblithe still rowed
and rested not, though he was weary; and the big man sat and
steered, and held his peace.  But when the night was grown
old and it was not far from the dawn, the alien said:
“Youngling of the Ravens, now shalt thou sleep and I will
row.”

Hallblithe was exceeding weary; so he gave the oars to the
alien and lay down in the stern and slept.  And in his sleep
he dreamed that he was lying in the House of the Raven, and his
sisters came to him and said, “Rise up now, Hallblithe!
wilt thou be a sluggard on the day of thy wedding?  Come
thou with us to the House of the Rose that we may bear away the
Hostage.”  Then he dreamed that they departed, and he
arose and clad himself: but when he would have gone out of the
hall, then was it no longer daylight, but moonlight, and he
dreamed that he had dreamed: nevertheless he would have gone
abroad, but might not find the door; so he said he would go out
by a window; but the wall was high and smooth (quite other than
in the House of the Raven, where were low windows all along one
aisle), nor was there any way to come at them.  But he
dreamed that he was so abashed thereat, and had such a weakness
on him, that he wept for pity of himself: and he went to his bed
to lie down; and lo! there was no bed and no hall; nought but a
heath, wild and wide, and empty under the moon.  And still
he wept in his dream, and his manhood seemed departed from him,
and he heard a voice crying out, “Is this the Land? 
Is this the Land?”

Therewithal he awoke, and as his eyes cleared he beheld the
big man rowing and the black sail flapping against the mast; for
the wind had fallen dead and they were faring on over a long
smooth swell of the sea.  It was broad daylight, but round
about them was a thick mist, which seemed none the less as if the
sun were ready to shine through it.

As Hallblithe caught the red man’s eye, he smiled and
nodded on him and said: “Now has the time come for thee
first to eat and then to row.  But tell me what is that upon
thy cheeks?”

Hallblithe, reddening somewhat, said: “The night dew
hath fallen on me.”

Quoth the sea-rover, “It is no shame for thee a
youngling to remember thy betrothed in thy sleep, and to weep
because thou lackest her.  But now bestir thee, for it is
later than thou mayest deem.”

Therewith the big man drew in the oars and came to the
afterpart of the boat, and drew meat and drink out of a locker
thereby; and they ate and drank together, and Hallblithe grew
strong and somewhat less downcast; and he went forward and gat
the oars into his hands.

Then the big red man stood up and looked over his left
shoulder and said: “Soon shall we have a breeze and bright
weather.”

Then he looked into the midmost of the sail and fell
a-whistling such a tune as the fiddles play to dancing men and
maids at Yule-tide, and his eyes gleamed and glittered
therewithal, and exceeding big he looked.  Then Hallblithe
felt a little air on his cheek, and the mist grew thinner, and
the sail began to fill with wind till the sheet tightened: then,
lo! the mist rising from the face of the sea, and the sea’s
face rippling gaily under a bright sun.  Then the wind
increased, and the wall of mist departed and a few light clouds
sped over the sky, and the sail swelled and the boat heeled over,
and the seas fell white from the prow, and they sped fast over
the face of the waters.

Then laughed the red-haired man, and said: “O croaker on
the dead branch, now is the wind such that no rowing of thine may
catch up with it: so in with the oars now, and turn about, and
thou shalt see whitherward we are going.”

Then Hallblithe turned about on the thwart and looked across
the sea, and lo! before them the high cliffs and crags and
mountains of a new land which seemed to be an isle, and they were
deep blue under the sun, which now shone aloft in the mid
heaven.  He said nought at all, but sat looking and
wondering what land it might be; but the big man said: “O
tomb of warriors, is it not as if the blueness of the deep sea
had heaved itself up aloft, and turned from coloured air into
rock and stone, so wondrous blue it is?  But that is because
those crags and mountains are so far away, and as we draw nigher
to them, thou shalt see them as they verily are, that they are
coal-black; and yonder land is an isle, and is called the Isle of
Ransom.  Therein shall be the market for thee where thou
mayst cheapen thy betrothed.  There mayst thou take her by
the hand and lead her away thence, when thou hast dealt with the
chapman of maidens and hast pledged thee by the fowl of battle,
and the edge of the fallow blade to pay that which he will have
of thee.”

As the big man spoke there was a mocking in his voice and his
face and in his whole huge body, which made the sword of
Hallblithe uneasy in his scabbard; but he refrained his wrath,
and said: “Big man, the longer I look, the less I can think
how we are to come up on to yonder island; for I can see nought
but a huge cliff, and great mountains rising beyond
it.”

“Thou shalt the more wonder,” said the alien,
“the nigher thou drawest thereto; for it is not because we
are far away that thou canst see no beach or strand, or sloping
of the land seaward, but because there is nought of all these
things.  Yet fear not! am I not with thee? thou shalt come
ashore on the Isle of Ransom.”

Then Hallblithe held his peace, and the other spake not for a
while, but gave a short laugh once or twice; and said at last in
a big voice, “Little Carrion-biter, why dost thou not ask
me of my name?”

Now Hallblithe was a tall man and a fell fighter; but he said:
“Because I was thinking of other things and not of
thee.”

“Well,” said the big man, in a voice still louder,
“when I am at home men call me the Puny Fox.”

Then Hallblithe said: “Art thou a Fox?  It may well
be that thou shalt beguile me as such beasts will but look to it,
that if thou dost I shall know how to avenge me.”

Then rose up the big man from the helm, and straddled wide in
the boat, and cried out in a great roaring voice:
“Crag-nester, I am one of seven brethren, and the smallest
and weakest of them.  Art thou not afraid?”

“No,” said Hallblithe, “for the six others
are not here.  Wilt thou fight here in boat, O
Fox?”

“Nay,” said Fox, “rather we will drink a cup
of wine together.”

So he opened the locker again and drew out thence a great horn
of some huge neat of the outlands, which was girthed and stopped
with silver, and also a golden cup, and he filled the cup from
the horn and gave it into Hallblithe’s hand and said:
“Drink, O black-fledged nestling!  But call a health
over the cup if thou wilt.”  So Hallblithe raised the
cup aloft and cried: “Health to the House of the Raven and
to them that love it! an ill day to its foemen!”  Then
he set his lips to the cup and drank; and that wine seemed to him
better and stronger than any he had ever tasted.  But when
he had given the cup back again to Fox, that red one filled it
again, and cried over it, “The Treasure of the Sea! and the
King that dieth not!”  Then he drank, and filled again
for Hallblithe, and steered with his knees meanwhile; and thus
they drank three cups each, and Fox smiled and was peaceful and
said but little, but Hallblithe sat wondering how the world was
changed for him since yesterday.

But now was the sky blown all clear of clouds and the wind
piped shrill behind them, and the great waves rose and fell about
them, and the sun glittered on them in many colours.  Fast
flew the boat before the wind as though it would never stop, and
the day was waning, and the wind still rising; and now the Isle
of Ransom uphove huge before them, and coal-black, and no beach
and no haven was to be seen therein; and still they ran before
the wind towards that black cliff-wall, against which the sea
washed for ever, and no keel ever built by man might live for one
moment ’twixt the surf and the cliff of that grim
land.  The sun grew low, and sank red under the sea, and
that world of stone swallowed up half the heavens before them,
for they were now come very nigh thereto; nor could Hallblithe
see aught for it, but that they must be dashed against the cliff
and perish in a moment of time.

Still the boat flew on; but now when the twilight was come,
and they had just opened up along reach of the cliff that lay
beyond a high ness, Hallblithe thought he saw down by the edge of
the sea something darker than the face of the rock-wall, and he
deemed it was a cave: they came a little nearer and he saw it was
a great cave high enough to let a round-ship go in with all her
sails set.

“Son of the Raven,” quoth Fox, “hearken, for
thy heart is not little.  Yonder is the gate into the Isle
of Ransom, and if thou wilt, thou mayst go through it.  Yet
it may be that if thou goest ashore on to the Isle something
grievous shall befall thee, a trouble more than thou canst bear:
a shame it may be.  Now there are two choices for thee:
either to go up on to the Isle and face all; or to die here by my
hand having done nothing unmanly or shameful: What sayest
thou?”

“Thou art of many words when time so presses,
Fox,” said Hallblithe.  “Why should I not choose
to go up on to the Island to deliver my trothplight maiden? 
For the rest, slay me if thou canst, if we come alive out of this
cauldron of waters.”

Said the big red man: “Look on then, and note Fox how he
steereth, as it were through a needle’s eye.”

Now were they underneath the black shadow of the black cliff
and amidst the twilight the surf was tossed about like white
fire.  In the lower heavens the stars were beginning to
twinkle and the moon was bright and yellow, and aloft all was
peaceful, for no cloud sullied the sky.  One moment
Hallblithe saw all this hanging above the turmoil of thundering
water and dripping rock and the next he was in the darkness of
the cave, the roaring wind and the waves still making thunder
about him, though of a different voice from the harsh hubbub
without.  Then he heard Fox say: “Sit down now and
take the oars, for presently shall we be at home at the landing
place.”

So Hallblithe took the oars and rowed, and as they went up the
cave the sea fell, and the wind died out into the aimless
gustiness of hollow places; and for a little while was all as
dark as dark might be.  Then Hallblithe saw that the
darkness grew a little greyer, and he looked over his shoulder
and saw a star of light before the bows of the boat, and Fox
cried out: “Yea, it is like day; bright will the moon be
for such as needs must be wayfaring to-night!  Cease rowing,
O Son of the coal-blue fowl, for there is way enough on
her.”

Then Hallblithe lay on his oars, and in a minute the bows
smote the land; then he turned about and saw a steep stair of
stone, and up the sloping shaft thereof the moonlit sky and the
bright stars.  Then Fox arose and came forward and leapt out
of the boat and moored her to a big stone: then he leapt back
again and said: “Bear a hand with the victuals; we must
bring them out of the boat unless thou wilt sleep supperless, as
I will not.  For to-night must we be guests to ourselves,
since it is far to the dwelling of my people, and the old man is
said to be a skin-changer, a flit-by-night.  And as to this
cave, it is deemed to be nowise safe to sleep therein, unless the
sleeper have a double share of luck.  And thy luck,
meseemeth, O Son of the Raven, is as now somewhat less than a
single share.  So to-night we shall sleep under the naked
heaven.”

Hallblithe yea-said this, and they took the meat and drink,
such as they needed, from out the boat, and climbed the steep
stair no little way, and so came out on to a plain place, which
seemed to Hallblithe bare and waste so far as he saw it by the
moonlight; for the twilight was gone now, and nought was left of
the light of day save a glimmer in the west.

This Hallblithe deemed wonderful, that no less out on the open
heath and brow of the land than in the shut-in cave, all that
tumult of the wind had fallen, and the cloudless night was calm,
and with a little air blowing from the south and the
landward.

Therewithal was Fox done with his loud-voiced braggart mood,
and spoke gently and peaceably like to a wayfarer, who hath
business of his to look to as other men.  Now he pointed to
certain rocks or low crags that a little way off rose like a reef
out of the treeless plain; then said he: “Shipmate,
underneath yonder rocks is our resting-place for to-night; and I
pray thee not to deem me churlish that I give thee no better
harbour.  But I have a charge over thee to bring thee safe
thus far on thy quest; and thou wouldst find it hard to live
among such housemates as thou wouldst find up yonder amongst our
folks to-night.  But to-morrow shalt thou come to speech
with him who will deal with thee concerning the
ransom.”

“It is enough,” said Hallblithe, “and I
thank thee for thy leading: and as for thy rough and uncomely
words which thou hast given me, I pardon thee for them: for I am
none the worse of them: forsooth, if I had been, my sword would
have had a voice in the matter.”

“I am well content as it is, Son of the Raven,”
quoth Fox; “I have done my bidding and all is
well.”

“Tell me then who it is hath bidden thee bring me
hither?”

“I may not tell thee,” said Fox; “thou art
here, be content, as I am.”

And he spake no more till they had come to the reef aforesaid,
which was some two furlongs from the place where they had come
from out of the cave.  There then they set forth their
supper on the stones, and ate what they would, and drank of that
good strong wine while the horn bare out.  And now was Fox
of few words, and when Hallblithe asked him concerning that land,
he had little to say.  And at last when Hallblithe asked him
of that so perilous house and those who manned it, he said to
him:

“Son of the Raven, it avails not asking of these
matters; for if I tell thee aught concerning them I shall tell
thee lies.  Once again let it be enough for thee that thou
hast passed over the sea safely on thy quest; and a more perilous
sea it is forsooth than thou deemest.  But now let us have
an end of vain words, and make our bed amidst these stones as
best we may; for we should be stirring betimes in the
morning.”  Hallblithe said little in answer, and they
arrayed their sleeping places cunningly, as the hare doth her
form, and like men well used to lying abroad.

Hallblithe was very weary and he soon fell asleep; and as he
lay there, he dreamed a dream, or maybe saw a vision; whether he
were asleep when he saw it, or between sleeping and waking, I
know not.  But this was his dream or his vision; that the
Hostage was standing over him, and she as he had seen her but
yesterday, bright-haired and ruddy-cheeked and white-skinned,
kind of hand and soft of voice, and she said to him:
“Hallblithe, look on me and hearken, for I have a message
for thee.”  And he looked and longed for her, and his
soul was ravished by the sweetness of his longing, and he would
have leapt up and cast his arms about her, but sleep and the
dream bound him, and he might not.  Then the image smiled on
him and said: “Nay, my love, lie still, for thou mayst not
touch me: here is but the image of the body which thou
desirest.  Hearken then.  I am in evil plight, in the
hands of strong-thieves of the sea, nor know I what they will do
with me, and I have no will to be shamed; to be sold for a price
from one hand to another, yet to be bedded without a price, and
to lie beside some foe-man of our folk, and he to cast his arms
about me, will I, will I not: this is a hard case. 
Therefore to-morrow morning at daybreak while men sleep, I think
to steal forth to the gunwale of the black ship and give myself
to the gods, that they and not these runagates may be masters of
my life and my soul, and may do with me as they will: for indeed
they know that I may not bear the strange kinless house, and the
love and caressing of the alien house-master, and the mocking and
stripes of the alien house-mistress.  Therefore let the
Hoary One of the sea take me and look to my matters, and carry me
to life or death, which-so he will.  Thin now grows the
night, but lie still a little yet, while I speak another
word.

“Maybe we shall meet alive again, and maybe not: and if
not, though we have never yet lain in one bed together, yet I
would have thee remember me: yet not so that my image shall come
between thee and thy speech-friend and bed-fellow of the kindred,
that shall lie where I was to have lain.  Yet again, if I
live and thou livest, I have been told and have heard that by one
way or other I am like to come to the Glittering Plain, and the
Land of Living Men.  O my beloved, if by any way thou
mightest come thither also, and we might meet there, and we two
alive, how good it were!  Seek that land then, beloved! seek
it, whether or no we once more behold the House of the Rose, or
tread the floor of the Raven dwelling.  And now must even
this image of me sunder from thee.  Farewell!”

Therewith was the dream done and the vision departed; and
Hallblithe sat up full of anguish and longing; and he looked
about him over the dreary land, and it was somewhat light and the
sky was grown grey and cloudy, and he deemed that the dawn was
come.  So he leapt to his feet and stooped down over Fox,
and took him by the shoulder, and shook him and said:
“Faring-fellow, awake! the dawn is come, and we have much
to do.”

Fox sat up and growled like a dog, and rubbed his eyes and
looked about him and said: “Thou hast waked me for nought:
it is the false dawn of the moon that shineth now behind the
clouds and casteth no shadow; it is but an hour after
midnight.  Go to sleep again, and let me be, else will I not
be a guide to thee when the day comes.”  And he lay
down and was asleep at once.  Then Hallblithe went and lay
down again full of sorrow: Yet so weary was he that he presently
fell asleep, and dreamed no more.

CHAPTER VI: OF A DWELLING OF MAN ON THE ISLE OF RANSOM

When he awoke again the sun shone on him, and the morning was
calm and windless.  He sat up and looked about him, but
could see no signs of Fox save the lair wherein he had
lain.  So he arose to his feet and sought for him about the
crannies of the rocks, and found him not; and he shouted for him,
and had no answer.  Then he said, “Belike he has gone
down to the boat to put a thing in, or take a thing
out.”  So he went his ways to the stair down into the
water-cave, and he called on Fox from the top of the stair, and
had no answer.

So he went down that long stair with a misgiving in his heart,
and when he came to the last step there was neither man nor boat,
nor aught else save the water and the living rock.  Then was
he exceeding wroth, for he knew that he had been beguiled, and he
was in an evil case, left alone on an Isle that he knew not, a
waste and desolate land, where it seemed most like he should die
of famine.

He wasted no breath or might now in crying out for Fox, or
seeking him; for he said to himself: “I might well have
known that he was false and a liar, whereas he could scarce
refrain his joy at my folly and his guile.  Now is it for me
to strive for life against death.”

Then he turned and went slowly up the stair, and came out on
to the open face of that Isle, and he saw that it was waste
indeed, and dreadful: a wilderness of black sand and stones and
ice-borne rocks, with here and there a little grass growing in
the hollows, and here and there a dreary mire where the
white-tufted rushes shook in the wind, and here and there
stretches of moss blended with red-blossomed sengreen; and
otherwhere nought but the wind-bitten creeping willow clinging to
the black sand, with a white bleached stick and a leaf or two,
and again a stick and a leaf.  In the offing looking
landward were great mountains, some very great and snow-capped,
some bare to the tops; and all that was far away, save the snow,
was deep-blue in the sunny morning.  But about him on the
heath were scattered rocks like the reef beneath which he had
slept the last night, and peaks, and hammers, and knolls of
uncouth shapes.

Then he went to the edge of the cliffs and looked down on the
sea which lay wrinkled and rippling on toward the shore far below
him, and long he gazed thereon and all about, but could see
neither ship nor sail, nor aught else save the washing of waves
and the hovering of sea fowl.

Then he said: “Were it not well if I were to seek that
house-master of whom Fox spake?  Might he not flit me at
least to the Land of the Glittering Plain?  Woe is me! now
am I of that woful company, and I also must needs cry out, Where
is the land?  Where is the land?”

Therewith he turned toward the reef above their lair, but as
he went he thought and said: “Nay, but was not this Stead a
lie like the rest of Fox’s tale? and am I not alone in this
sea-girt wilderness?  Yea, and even that image of my Beloved
which I saw in the dream, perchance that also was a mere
beguiling; for now I see that the Puny Fox was in all ways wiser
than is meet and comely.”  Yet again he said:
“At least I will seek on, and find out whether there be
another man dwelling on this hapless Isle, and then the worst of
it will be battle with him, and death by point and edge rather
than by hunger; or at the best we may become friends and fellows
and deliver each other.”  Therewith he came to the
reef, and with much ado climbed to the topmost of its rocks and
looked down thence landward: and betwixt him and the mountains,
and by seeming not very far off, he saw smoke arising: but no
house he saw, nor any other token of a dwelling.  So he came
down from the stone and turned his back upon the sea and went
toward that smoke with his sword in its sheath, and his spear
over his shoulder.  Rough and toilsome was the way: three
little dales he crossed amidst the mountain necks, each one
narrow and bare, with a stream of water amidst, running seaward,
and whether in dale or on ridge, he went ever amidst sand and
stones, and the weeds of the wilderness, and saw no man, or
man-tended beast.

At last, after he had been four hours on the way, but had not
gone very far, he topped a stony bent, and from the brow thereof
beheld a wide valley grass-grown for the more part, with a river
running through it, and sheep and kine and horses feeding up and
down it.  And amidst this dale by the stream-side, was a
dwelling of men, a long hall and other houses about it builded of
stone.

Then was Hallblithe glad, and he strode down the bent
speedily, his war-gear clashing upon him: and as he came to the
foot thereof and on to the grass of the dale, he got amongst the
pasturing horses, and passed close by the horse-herd and a woman
that was with him.  They scowled at him as he went by, but
meddled not with him in any way.  Although they were
giant-like of stature and fierce of face, they were not
ill-favoured: they were red-haired, and the woman as white as
cream where the sun had not burned her skin; they had no weapons
that Hallblithe might see save the goad in the hand of the
carle.

So Hallblithe passed on and came to the biggest house, the
hall aforesaid: it was very long, and low as for its length, not
over shapely of fashion, a mere gabled heap of stones.  Low
and strait was the door thereinto, and as Hallblithe entered
stooping lowly, and the fire of the steel of his spear that he
held before him was quenched in the mirk of the hall, he smiled
and said to himself: “Now if there were one anigh who would
not have me enter alive, and he with a weapon in his hand, soon
were all the tale told.”  But he got into the hall
unsmitten, and stood on the floor thereof, and spake: “The
sele of the day to whomsoever is herein!  Will any man speak
to the new comer?”

But none answered or gave him greeting; and as his eyes got
used to the dusk of the hall, he looked about him, and neither on
the floor or the high seat nor in any ingle could he see a man;
and there was silence there, save for the crackling of the
flickering flame on the hearth amidmost, and the running of the
rats behind the panelling of the walls.

On one side of the hall was a row of shut-beds, and Hallblithe
deemed that there might be men therein; but since none had
greeted him he refrained him from searching them for fear of a
trap, and he thought, “I will abide amidst the floor, and
if there be any that would deal with me, friend or foe, let him
come hither to me.”

So he fell to walking up and down the hall from buttery to
dais, and his war-gear rattled upon him.  At last as he
walked he thought he heard a small thin peevish voice, which yet
was too husky for the squeak of a rat.  So he stayed his
walk and stood still, and said: “Will any man speak to
Hallblithe, a newcomer, and a stranger in this Stead?”

Then that small voice made a word and said: “Why paceth
the fool up and down our hall, doing nothing, even as the Ravens
flap croaking about the crags, abiding the war-mote and the clash
of the fallow blades?”

Said Hallblithe, and his voice sounded big in the hall:
“Who calleth Hallblithe a fool and mocketh at the sons of
the Raven?”

Spake the voice: “Why cometh not the fool to the man
that may not go to him?”

Then Hallblithe bent forward to hearken, and he deemed that
the voice came from one of the shut-beds, so he leaned his spear
against a pillar, and went into the shut-bed he had noted, and
saw where there lay along in it a man exceeding old by seeming,
sore wasted, with long hair as white as snow lying over the
bed-clothes.

When the elder saw Hallblithe, he laughed a thin cracked laugh
as if in mockery and said: “Hail newcomer! wilt thou
eat?”

“Yea,” said Hallblithe.

“Go thou into the buttery then,” said the old
carle, “and there shalt thou find on the cupboard cakes and
curds and cheese: eat thy fill, and when thou hast done, look in
the ingle, and thou shalt see a cask of mead exceeding good, and
a stoup thereby, and two silver cups; fill the stoup and bring it
hither with the cups; and then may we talk amidst of drinking,
which is good for an old carle.  Hasten thou! or I shall
deem thee a double fool who will not fare to fetch his meat,
though he be hungry.”

Then Hallblithe laughed, and went down the hall into the
buttery and found the meat, and ate his fill, and came away with
the drink back to the Long-hoary man, who chuckled as he came and
said: “Fill up now for thee and for me, and call a health
to me and wish me somewhat.”

“I wish thee luck,” said Hallblithe, and
drank.  Said the elder: “And I wish thee more wits; is
luck all that thou mayst wish me?  What luck may an outworn
elder have?”

“Well then,” quoth Hallblithe, “what shall I
wish thee?  Wouldst thou have me wish thee youth?”

“Yea, certes,” said the Long-hoary, “that
and nought else.”

“Youth then I wish thee, if it may avail thee
aught,” said Hallblithe, and he drank again therewith.

“Nay, nay,” said the old carle peevishly,
“take a third cup, and wish me youth with no idle words
tacked thereto.”

Said Hallblithe raising the cup: “Herewith I wish thee
youth!” and he drank.

“Good is the wish,” said the elder; “now ask
thou the old carle whatso thou wilt.”

Said Hallblithe: “What is this land called?”

“Son,” said the other, “hast thou heard it
called the Isle of Ransom?”

“Yea,” said Hallblithe, “but what wilt thou
call it?”

“By no other name,” said the hoary carle.

“It is far from other lands?” said Hallblithe.

“Yea,” said the carle, “when the light winds
blow, and the ships sail slow.”

“What do ye who live here?” said Hallblithe. 
“How do ye live, what work win ye?”

“We win diverse work,” said the elder, “but
the gainfullest is robbing men by the high hand.”

“Is it ye who have stolen from me the Hostage of the
Rose?” said Hallblithe.

Said the Long-hoary, “Maybe; I wot not; in diverse ways
my kinsmen traffic, and they visit many lands.  Why should
they not have come to Cleveland also?”

“Is she in this Isle, thou old runagate?” said
Hallblithe.

“She is not, thou young fool,” said the
elder.  Then Hallblithe flushed red and spake:
“Knowest thou the Puny Fox?”

“How should I not?” said the carle, “since
he is the son of one of my sons.”

“Dost thou call him a liar and a rogue?” said
Hallblithe.

The elder laughed; “Else were I a fool,” said he;
“there are few bigger liars or bigger rogues than the Puny
Fox!”

“Is he here in this Isle?” said Hallblithe;
“may I see him?”

The old man laughed again, and said: “Nay, he is not
here, unless he hath turned fool since yesterday: why should he
abide thy sword, since he hath done what he would and brought
thee hither?”

Then he laughed, as a hen cackles a long while, and then said:
“What more wilt thou ask me?”

But Hallblithe was very wroth: “It availeth nought to
ask,” he said; “and now I am in two minds whether I
shall slay thee or not.”

“That were a meet deed for a Raven, but not for a
man,” said the carle, “and thou that hast wished me
luck!  Ask, ask!”

But Hallblithe was silent a long while.  Then the carle
said, “Another cup for the longer after youth!”

Hallblithe filled, and gave to him, and the old man drank and
said: “Thou deemest us all liars in the Isle of Ransom
because of thy beguiling by the Puny Fox: but therein thou
errest.  The Puny Fox is our chiefest liar, and doth for us
the more part of such work as we need: therefore, why should we
others lie.  Ask, ask!”

“Well then,” said Hallblithe, “why did the
Puny Fox bewray me, and at whose bidding?”

Said the elder: “I know, but I will not tell thee. 
Is this a lie?”

“Nay, I deem it not,” said Hallblithe: “But,
tell me, is it verily true that my trothplight is not here, that
I may ransom her?”

Said the Long-hoary: “I swear it by the Treasure of the
Sea, that she is not here: the tale was but a lie of the Puny
Fox.”

CHAPTER VII: A FEAST IN THE ISLE OF RANSOM

Hallblithe pondered his answer awhile with downcast eyes and
said at last: “Have ye a mind to ransom me, now that I have
walked into the trap?”

“There is no need to talk of ransom,” said the
elder; “thou mayst go out of this house when thou wilt, nor
will any meddle with thee if thou strayest about the Isle, when I
have set a mark on thee and given thee a token: nor wilt thou be
hindered if thou hast a mind to leave the Isle, if thou canst
find means thereto; moreover as long as thou art in the Isle, in
this house mayst thou abide, eating and drinking and resting with
us.”

“How then may I leave this Isle?” said
Hallblithe.

The elder laughed: “In a ship,” said he.

“And when,” said Hallblithe, “shall I find a
ship that shall carry me?”

Said the old carle, “Whither wouldest thou my
son?”  Hallblithe was silent a while, thinking what
answer he should make; then he said: “I would go to the
land of the Glittering Plain.”

“Son, a ship shall not be lacking thee for that
voyage,” said the elder.  “Thou mayst go
to-morrow morn.  And I bid thee abide here to-night, and thy
cheer shall not be ill.  Yet if thou wilt believe my word,
it will be well for thee to say as little as thou mayst to any
man here, and that little as little proud as maybe: for our folk
are short of temper and thou knowest there is no might against
many.  Indeed it is not unlike that they will not speak one
word to thee, and if that be so, thou hast no need to open thy
mouth to them.  And now I will tell thee that it is good
that thou hast chosen to go to the Glittering Plain.  For if
thou wert otherwise minded, I wot not how thou wouldest get thee
a keel to carry thee, and the wings have not yet begun to sprout
on thy shoulders, raven though thou be.  Now I am glad that
thou art going thy ways to the Glittering Plain to-morrow; for
thou wilt be good company to me on the way: and I deem that thou
wilt be no churl when thou art glad.”

“What,” said Hallblithe, “art thou wending
thither, thou old man?”

“Yea,” said he, “nor shall any other be on
the ship save thou and I, and the mariners that waft us; and they
forsooth shall not go aland there.  Why should not I go,
since there are men to bear me aboard?”

Said Hallblithe, “And when thou art come aland there,
what wilt thou do?”

“Thou shalt see, my son,” said the
Long-hoary.  “It may be that thy good wishes shall be
of avail to me.  But now since all this may only be if I
live through this night, and since my heart hath been warmed by
the good mead, and thy fellowship, and whereas I am somewhat
sleepy, and it is long past noon, go forth into the hall, and
leave me to sleep, that I may be as sound as eld will let me
to-morrow.  And as for thee, folk, both men and women, shall
presently come into the hall, and I deem not that any shall
meddle with thee; but if so be that any challenge thee,
whatsoever may be his words, answer thou to him, ‘The House of the Undying,’ and there
will be an end of it.  Only look thou to it that no naked
steel cometh out of thy scabbard.  Go now, and if thou wilt,
go out of doors; yet art thou safer within doors and nigher unto
me.”

So Hallblithe went back into the main hall, and the sun had
gotten round now, and was shining into the hall, through the
clerestory windows, so that he saw clearly all that was
therein.  And he deemed the hall fairer within than without;
and especially over the shut-beds were many stories carven in the
panelling, and Hallblithe beheld them gladly.  But of one
thing he marvelled, that whereas he was in an island of the
strong-thieves of the waters, and in their very home and chiefest
habitation, there were no ships or seas pictured in that imagery,
but fair groves and gardens, with flowery grass and fruited trees
all about.  And there were fair women abiding therein, and
lovely young men, and warriors, and strange beasts and many
marvels, and the ending of wrath and beginning of pleasure and
the crowning of love.  And amidst these was pictured oft and
again a mighty king with a sword by his side and a crown on his
head; and ever was he smiling and joyous, so that Hallblithe,
when he looked on him, felt of better heart and smiled back on
the carven image.

So while Hallblithe looked on these things, and pondered his
case carefully, all alone as he was in that alien hall, he heard
a noise without of talking and laughter, and presently the
pattering of feet therewith, and then women came into the hall, a
score or more, some young, some old, some fair enough, and some
hard-featured and uncomely, but all above the stature of the
women whom he had seen in his own land.

So he stood amidst the hall-floor and abided them; and they
saw him and his shining war-gear, and ceased their talking and
laughter, and drew round about him, and gazed at him; but none
said aught till an old crone came forth from the ring, and said
“Who art thou, standing under weapons in our
hall?”

He knew not what to answer, and held his peace; and she spake
again: “Whither wouldest thou, what seekest
thou?”

Then answered Hallblithe: “The House
of the Undying.”

None answered, and the other women all fell away from him at
once, and went about their business hither and thither through
the hall.  But the old crone took him by the hand, and led
him up to the dais, and set him next to the midmost
high-seat.  Then she made as if she would do off his
war-gear, and he would not gainsay her, though he deemed that
foes might be anear; for in sooth he trusted in the old carle
that he would not bewray him, and moreover he deemed it would be
unmanly not to take the risks of the guesting, according to the
custom of that country.

So she took his armour and his weapons and bore them off to a
shut-bed next to that wherein lay the ancient man, and she laid
the gear within it, all save the spear, which she laid on the
wall-pins above; and she made signs to him that therein he was to
lie; but she spake no word to him.  Then she brought him the
hand-washing water in a basin of latten, and a goodly towel
therewith, and when he had washed she went away from him, but not
far.

This while the other women were busy about the hall; some
swept the floor down, and when it was swept strawed thereon
rushes and handfuls of wild thyme: some went into the buttery and
bore forth the boards and the trestles: some went to the chests
and brought out the rich hangings, the goodly bankers and
dorsars, and did them on the walls: some bore in the stoups and
horns and beakers, and some went their ways and came not back a
while, for they were busied about the cooking.  But whatever
they did, none hailed him, or heeded him more than if he had been
an image, as he sat there looking on.  None save the old
woman who brought him the fore-supper, to wit a great horn of
mead, and cakes and dried fish.

So was the hall arrayed for the feast very fairly, and
Hallblithe sat there while the sun westered and the house grew
dim, and dark at last, and they lighted the candles up and down
the hall.  But a little after these were lit, a great horn
was winded close without, and thereafter came the clatter of arms
about the door, and exceeding tall weaponed men came in, one
score and five, and strode two by two up to the foot of the dais,
and stood there in a row.  And Hallblithe deemed their
war-gear exceeding good; they were all clad in ring-locked
byrnies, and had steel helms on their heads with garlands of gold
wrought about them and they bore spears in their hands, and white
shields hung at their backs.  Now came the women to them and
unarmed them; and under their armour their raiment was black; but
they had gold rings on their arms, and golden collars about their
necks.  So they strode up to the dais and took their places
on the high-seat, not heeding Hallblithe any more than if he were
an image of wood.  Nevertheless that man sat next to him who
was the chieftain of all and sat in the midmost high-seat; and he
bore his sheathed sword in his hand and laid it on the board
before him, and he was the only man of those chieftains who had a
weapon.

But when these were set down there was again a noise without,
and there came in a throng of men armed and unarmed who took
their places on the end-long benches up and down the hall; with
these came women also, who most of them sat amongst the men, but
some busied them with the serving: all these men were great of
stature, but none so big as the chieftains on the high-seat.

Now came the women in from the kitchen bearing the meat,
whereof no little was flesh-meat, and all was of the best. 
Hallblithe was duly served like the others, but still none spake
to him or even looked on him; though amongst themselves they
spoke in big, rough voices so that the rafters of the hall rang
again.

When they had eaten their fill the women filled round the cups
and the horns to them, and those vessels were both great and
goodly.  But ere they fell to drinking uprose the chieftain
who sat furthest from the midmost high-seat on the right and
cried a health: “The Treasure of the
Sea!”  Then they all stood up and shouted,
women as well as men, and emptied their horns and cups to that
health.  Then stood up the man furthest on the left and
cried out, “Drink a health to the Undying
King!”  And again all men rose up and shouted ere they
drank.  Other healths they drank, as the “Cold
Keel,” the “Windworn Sail,” the
“Quivering Ash” and the “Furrowed
Beach.”  And the wine and mead flowed like rivers in
that hall of the Wild Men.  As for Hallblithe, he drank what
he would but stood not up, nor raised his cup to his lips when a
health was drunk; for he knew not whether these men were his
friends or his foes, and he deemed it would be little-minded to
drink to their healths, lest he might be drinking death and
confusion to his own kindred.

But when men had drunk a while, again a horn blew at the
nether end of the hall, and straightway folk arose from the
endlong tables, and took away the boards and trestles, and
cleared the floor and stood against the wall; then the big
chieftain beside Hallblithe arose and cried out: “Now let
man dance with maid, and be we merry!  Music, strike
up!”  Then flew the fiddle-bows and twanged the harps,
and the carles and queens stood forth on the floor; and all the
women were clad in black raiment, albeit embroidered with knots
and wreaths of flowers.  A while they danced and then
suddenly the music fell, and they all went back to their
places.  Then the chieftain in the high-seat arose and took
a horn from his side, and blew a great blast on it that filled
the hall; then he cried in a loud voice: “Be we
merry!  Let the champions come forth!”

Men shouted gleefully thereat, and straightway ran into the
hall from out the screens three tall men clad all in black armour
with naked swords in their hands, and stood amidst the
hall-floor, somewhat on one side, and clashed their swords on
their shields and cried out: “Come forth ye Champions of
the Raven!”

Then leapt Hallblithe from his seat and set his hand to his
left side, but no sword was there; so he sat down again,
remembering the warning of the Elder, and none heeded him.

Then there came into the hall slowly and mournfully three
men-at-arms, clad and weaponed like the warriors of his folk,
with the image of the Raven on their helms and shields.  So
Hallblithe refrained him, for besides that this seemed like to be
a fair battle of three against three, he doubted some snare, and
he determined to look on and abide.

So the champions fell to laying on strokes that were no
child’s play, though Hallblithe doubted if the edges bit,
and it was but a little while before the Champions of the Raven
fell one after another before the Wild Men, and folk drew them by
the heels out into the buttery.  Then arose great laughter
and jeering, and exceeding wroth was Hallblithe; howbeit he
refrained him because he remembered all he had to do.  But
the three Champions of the Sea strode round the hall, tossing up
their swords and catching them as they fell, while the horns blew
up behind them.

After a while the hall grew hushed, and the chieftain arose
and cried: “Bring in now some sheaves of the harvest we
win, we lads of the oar and the arrow!”  Then was
there a stir at the screen doors, and folk pressed forward to
see, and, lo, there came forward a string of women, led in by two
weaponed carles; and the women were a score in number, and they
were barefoot and their hair hung loose and their gowns were
ungirt, and they were chained together wrist to wrist; yet had
they gold at arm and neck: there was silence in the hall when
they stood amidst of the floor.

Then indeed Hallblithe could not refrain himself, and he leapt
from his seat and on to the board, and over it, and ran down the
hall, and came to those women and looked them in the face one by
one, while no man spake in the hall.  But the Hostage was
not amongst them; nay forsooth, they none of them favoured of the
daughters of his people, though they were comely and fair; so
that again Hallblithe doubted if this were aught but a feast-hall
play done to anger him; whereas there was but little grief in the
faces of those damsels, and more than one of them smiled wantonly
in his face as he looked on them.

So he turned about and went back to his seat, having said no
word, and behind him arose much mocking and jeering; but it
angered him little now; for he remembered the rede of the elder
and how that he had done according to his bidding, so that he
deemed the gain was his.  So sprang up talk in the hall
betwixt man and man, and folk drank about and were merry, till
the chieftain arose again and smote the board with the flat of
his sword, and cried out in a loud and angry voice, so that all
could hear: “Now let there be music and minstrelsy ere we
wend bedward!”

Therewith fell the hubbub of voices, and there came forth
three men with great harps, and a fourth man with them, who was
the minstrel; and the harpers smote their harps so that the roof
rang therewith, and the noise, though it was great, was tuneable,
and when they had played thus a little while, they abated their
loudness somewhat, and the minstrel lifted his voice and
sang:

      The land lies
black

      With winter’s lack,

      The wind blows cold

      Round field and fold;

      All folk are within,

      And but weaving they win.

Where from finger to finger the shuttle flies fast,

And the eyes of the singer look fain on the cast,

As he singeth the story of summer undone

And the barley sheaves hoary ripe under the sun.

      Then the maidens stay

      The light-hung sley,

      And the shuttles bide

      By the blue web’s side,

      While hand in hand

      With the carles they stand.

But ere to the measure the fiddles strike up,

And the elders yet treasure the last of the cup,

There stand they a-hearkening the blast from the lift,

And e’en night is a-darkening more under the drift.

      There safe in the hall

      They bless the wall,

      And the roof o’er head,

      Of the valiant stead;

      And the hands they praise

      Of the olden days.

Then through the storm’s roaring the fiddles break out,

And they think not of warring, but cast away doubt,

And, man before maiden, their feet tread the floor,

And their hearts are unladen of all that they bore.

      But what winds are
o’er-cold

      For the heart of the bold?

      What seas are o’er-high

      For the undoomed to die?

      Dark night and dread wind,

      But the haven we find.

Then ashore mid the flurry of stone-washing surf!

Cloud-hounds the moon worry, but light lies the turf;

Lo the long dale before us! the lights at the end,

Though the night darkens o’er us, bid whither to wend.

      Who beateth the door

      By the foot-smitten floor?

      What guests are these

      From over the seas?

      Take shield and sword

      For their greeting-word.

Lo, lo, the dance ended!  Lo, midst of the hall

The fallow blades blended!  Lo, blood on the wall!

Who liveth, who dieth?  O men of the sea,

For peace the folk crieth; our masters are ye.

      Now the dale lies grey

      At the dawn of day;

      And fair feet pass

      O’er the wind-worn grass;

      And they turn back to gaze

      On the roof of old days.

Come tread ye the oaken-floored hall of the sea!

Be your hearts yet unbroken; so fair as ye be,

That kings are abiding unwedded to gain

The news of our riding the steeds of the main.

Much shouting and laughter arose at the song’s end; and
men sprang up and waved their swords above the cups, while
Hallblithe sat scowling down on their merriment.  Lastly
arose the chieftain and called out loudly for the good-night cup,
and it went round and all men drank.  Then the horn blew for
bed, and the chieftains went to their chambers, and the others
went to the out-bowers or laid them down on the hall-floor, and
in a little while none stood upright thereon.  So Hallblithe
arose, and went to the shut-bed appointed for him, and laid him
down and slept dreamlessly till the morning.

CHAPTER VIII: HALLBLITHE TAKETH SHIP AGAIN AWAY FROM THE ISLE
OF RANSOM

When he awoke, the sun shone into the hall by the windows
above the buttery, and there were but few folk left
therein.  But so soon as Hallblithe was clad, the old woman
came to him, and took him by the hand, and led him to the board,
and signed to him to eat of what was thereon; and he did so; and
by then he was done, came folk who went into the shut-bed where
lay the Long-hoary, and they brought him forth bed and all and
bare him out a-doors.  Then the crone brought Hallblithe his
arms and he did on byrny and helm, girt his sword to his side,
took his spear in his hand and went out a-doors; and there close
by the porch lay the Long-hoary upon a horse-litter.  So
Hallblithe came up to him and gave him the sele of the day: and
the elder said: “Good morrow, son, I am glad to see
thee.  Did they try thee hard last night?”

And Hallblithe saw two of the carles that had borne out the
elder, that they were talking together, and they looked on him
and laughed mockingly; so he said to the elder: “Even fools
may try a wise man, and so it befell last night.  Yet, as
thou seest, mumming hath not slain me.”

Said the old man: “What thou sawest was not all mumming;
it was done according to our customs; and well nigh all of it had
been done, even hadst thou not been there.  Nay, I will tell
thee; at some of our feasts it is not lawful to eat either for
the chieftains or the carles, till a champion hath given forth a
challenge, and been answered and met, and the battle fought to an
end.  But ye men, what hindereth you to go to the
horses’ heads and speed on the road the chieftain who is no
longer way-worthy?”

So they ran to the horses and set down the dale by the
riverside, and just as Hallblithe was going to follow afoot,
there came a swain from behind the house leading a red horse
which he brought to Hallblithe as one who bids mount.  So
Hallblithe leapt into the saddle and at once caught up with the
litter of the Long-hoary down along the river.  They passed
by no other house, save here and there a cot beside some fold or
byre; they went easily, for the way was smooth by the river-side;
so in less than two hours they came where the said river ran into
the sea.  There was no beach there, for the water was ten
fathom deep close up to the lip of the land; but there was a
great haven land-locked all but a narrow outgate betwixt the
sheer black cliffs.  Many a great ship might have lain in
that haven; but as now there was but one lying there, a
round-ship not very great, but exceeding trim and meet for the
sea.

There without more ado the carles took the elder from the
litter and bore him aboard, and Hallblithe followed him as if he
had been so appointed.  They laid the old man adown on the
poop under a tilt of precious web, and so went aback by the way
that they had come; and Hallblithe went and sat down beside the
Long-hoary, who spake to him and said: “Seest thou, son,
how easy it is for us twain to be shipped for the land whither we
would go?  But as easy as it is for thee to go thither
whereas we are going, just so hard had it been for thee to go
elsewhere.  Moreover I must tell thee that though many an
one of the Isle of Ransom desireth to go this voyage, there shall
none else go, till the world is a year older, and he who shall go
then shall be likest to me in all ways, both in eld and in
feebleness, and in gibing speech, and all else; and now that I am
gone, his name shall be the same as that whereby ye may call me
to-day, and that is Grandfather.  Art thou glad or sorry,
Hallblithe?”

“Grandfather,” said Hallblithe, “I can
scarce tell thee: I move as one who hath no will to wend one way
or other.  Meseems I am drawn to go thither whereas we are
going; therefore I deem that I shall find my beloved on the
Glittering Plain: and whatever befalleth afterward, let it be as
it will!”

“Tell me, my son,” said the Grandfather,
“how many women are there in the world?”

“How may I tell thee?” said Hallblithe.

“Well, then,” said the elder, “how many
exceeding fair women are there?”

Said Hallblithe, “Indeed I wot not.”

“How many of such hast thou seen?” said the
Grandfather.

“Many,” said Hallblithe; “the daughters of
my folk are fair, and there will be many other such amongst the
aliens.”

Then laughed the elder, and said: “Yet, my son, he who
had been thy fellow since thy sundering from thy beloved, would
have said that in thy deeming there is but one woman in the
world; or at least one fair woman: is it not so?”

Then Hallblithe reddened at first, as though he were angry;
then he said: “Yea, it is so.”

Said the Grandfather in a musing way: “I wonder if
before long I shall think of it as thou dost.”

Then Hallblithe gazed at him marvelling, and studied to see
wherein lay the gibe against himself; and the Grandfather beheld
him, and laughed as well as he might, and said: “Son, son;
didst thou not wish me youth?”

“Yea,” said Hallblithe, “but what ails thee
to laugh so?  What is it I have said or done?”

“Nought, nought,” said the elder, laughing still
more, “only thou lookest so mazed.  And who knoweth
what thy wish may bring forth?”

Thereat was Hallblithe sore puzzled; but while he set himself
to consider what the old carle might mean, uprose the hale and
how of the mariners; they cast off the hawsers from the shore,
ran out the sweeps, and drave the ship through the
haven-gates.  It was a bright sunny day; within, the green
water was oily-smooth, without the rippling waves danced merrily
under a light breeze, and Hallblithe deemed the wind to be fair;
for the mariners shouted joyously and made all sail on the ship;
and she lay over and sped through the waves, casting off the seas
from her black bows.  Soon were they clear of those swart
cliffs, and it was but a little afterwards that the Isle of
Ransom was grown deep blue behind them and far away.

CHAPTER IX: THEY COME TO THE LAND OF THE GLITTERING
PLAIN

As in the hall, so in the ship, Hallblithe noted that the folk
were merry and of many words one with another, while to him no
man cast a word save the Grandfather.  As to Hallblithe,
though he wondered much what all this betokened, and what the
land was whereto he was wending, he was no man to fear an unboded
peril; and he said to himself that whatever else betid, he should
meet the Hostage on the Glittering Plain; so his heart rose and
he was of good cheer, and as the Grandfather had foretold, he was
a merry faring-fellow to him.  Many a gibe the old man cast
at him, and whiles Hallblithe gave him back as good as he took,
and whiles he laughed as the stroke went home and silenced him;
and whiles he understood nought of what the elder said.  So
wore the day and still the wind held fair, though it was light;
and the sun set in a sky nigh cloudless, and there was nowhere
any forecast of peril.  But when night was come, Hallblithe
lay down on a fair bed, which was dight for him in the poop, and
he soon fell asleep and dreamed not save such dreams as are but
made up of bygone memories, and betoken nought, and are not
remembered.

When he awoke, day lay broad on the sea, and the waves were
little, the sky had but few clouds, the sun shone bright, and the
air was warm and sweet-breathed.

He looked aside and saw the old man sitting up in his bed, as
ghastly as a dead man dug up again: his bushy eyebrows were
wrinkled over his bleared old eyes, the long white hair dangled
forlorn from his gaunt head: yet was his face smiling and he
looked as happy as the soul within him could make the half-dead
body.  He turned now to Hallblithe and said:

“Thou art late awake: hadst thou been waking earlier,
the sooner had thine heart been gladdened.  Go forward now,
and gaze thy fill and come and tell me thereof.”

“Thou art happy, Grandfather,” said Hallblithe,
“what good tidings hath morn brought us?”

“The Land! the Land!” said the Long-hoary;
“there are no longer tears in this old body, else should I
be weeping for joy.”

Said Hallblithe: “Art thou going to meet some one who
shall make thee glad before thou diest, old man?”

“Some one?” said the elder; “what one? 
Are they not all gone? burned, and drowned, and slain and died
abed?  Some one, young man?  Yea, forsooth some one
indeed!  Yea, the great warrior of the Wasters of the Shore;
the Sea-eagle who bore the sword and the torch and the terror of
the Ravagers over the coal-blue sea.  It is myself, Myself that I shall find on the Land of the
Glittering Plain, O young lover!”

Hallblithe looked on him wondering as he raised his wasted
arms towards the bows of the ship pitching down the slope of the
sunlit sea, or climbing up it.  Then again the old man fell
back on his bed and muttered: “What fool’s work is
this! that thou wilt draw me on to talk loud, and waste my body
with lack of patience.  I will talk with thee no more, lest
my heart swell and break, and quench the little spark of life
within me.”

Then Hallblithe arose to his feet, and stood looking at him,
wondering so much at his words, that for a while he forgat the
land which they were nearing, though he had caught glimpses of
it, as the bows of the round-ship fell downward into the hollow
of the sea.  The wind was but light, as hath been said, and
the waves little under it, but there was still a smooth swell of
the sea which came of breezes now dead, and the ship wallowed
thereon and sailed but slowly.

In a while the old man opened his eyes again, and said in a
low peevish voice: “Why standest thou staring at me? why
hast thou not gone forward to look upon the land?  True it
is that ye Ravens are short of wits.”

Said Hallblithe: “Be not wrath, chieftain; I was
wondering at thy words, which are exceeding marvellous; tell me
more of this land of the Glittering Plain.”

Said the Grandfather: “Why should I tell it thee? ask of
the mariners.  They all know more than thou dost.”

“Thou knowest,” said Hallblithe, “that these
men speak not to me, and take no more heed of me than if I were
an image which they were carrying to sell to the next mighty man
they may hap on.  Or tell me, thou old man,” said he
fiercely, “is it perchance a thrall-market whereto they are
bringing me?  Have they sold her there, and will they sell
me also in the same place, but into other hands.”

“Tush!” said the Grandfather somewhat feebly,
“this last word of thine is folly; there is no buying or
selling in the land whereto we are bound.  As to thine other
word, that these men have no fellowship with thee, it is true:
thou art my fellow and the fellow of none else aboard. 
Therefore if I feel might in me, maybe I will tell thee
somewhat.”

Then he raised his head a little and said: “The sun
grows hot, the wind faileth us, and slow and slow are we
sailing.”

Even as he spoke there was a stir amidships, and Hallblithe
looked and beheld the mariners handling the sweeps, and settling
themselves on the rowing-benches.  Said the elder:
“There is noise amidships, what are they doing?”

The old man raised himself a little again, and cried out in
his shrill voice: “Good lads! brave lads!  Thus would
we do in the old time when we drew anear some shore, and the
beacons were sending up smoke by day, and flame benights; and the
shore-abiders did on their helms and trembled.  Thrust her
through, lads!  Thrust her along!”  Then he fell
back again, and said in a weak voice: “Make no more delay,
guest, but go forward and look upon the land, and come back and
tell me thereof, and then the tale may flow from me.  Haste,
haste!”  So Hallblithe went down from the poop, and in
to the waist, where now the rowers were bending to their oars,
and crying out fiercely as they tugged at the quivering ash; and
he clomb on to the forecastle and went forward right to the
dragon-head, and gazed long upon the land, while the dashing of
the oar-blades made the semblance of a gale about the
ship’s black sides.  Then he came back again to the
Sea-eagle, who said to him: “Son, what hast thou
seen?”

“Right ahead lieth the land, and it is still a good way
off.  High rise the mountains there, but by seeming there is
no snow on them; and though they be blue they are not blue like
the mountains of the Isle of Ransom.  Also it seemed to me
as if fair slopes of woodland and meadow come down to the edge of
the sea.  But it is yet far away.”

“Yea,” said the elder, “is it so?  Then
will I not wear myself with making words for thee.  I will
rest rather, and gather might.  Come again when an hour hath
worn, and tell me what thou seest; and may happen then thou shalt
have my tale!”  And he laid him down therewith and
seemed to be asleep at once.  And Hallblithe might not amend
it; so he waited patiently till the hour had worn, and then went
forward again, and looked long and carefully, and came back and
said to the Sea-eagle, “The hour is worn.”

The old chieftain turned himself about and said “What
hast thou seen?”

Said Hallblithe: “The mountains are pale and high, and
below them are hills dark with wood, and betwixt them and the sea
is a fair space of meadowland, and methought it was
wide.”

Said the old man: “Sawest thou a rocky skerry rising
high out of the sea anigh the shore?”

“Nay,” said Hallblithe, “if there be, it is
all blended with the meadows and the hills.”

Said the Sea-eagle: “Abide the wearing of another hour,
and come and tell me again, and then I may have a gainful word
for thee.”  And he fell asleep again.  But
Hallblithe abided, and when the hour was worn, he went forward
and stood on the forecastle.  And this was the third shift
of the rowers, and the stoutest men in the ship now held the oars
in their hands, and the ship shook through all her length and
breadth as they drave her over the waters.

So Hallblithe came aft to the old man and found him asleep; so
he took him by the shoulder, and shook him and said:
“Awake, faring-fellow, for the land is a-nigh.”

So the old man sat up and said: “What hast thou
seen?”

Said Hallblithe: “I have seen the peaks and cliffs of
the far-off mountains; and below them are hills green with grass
and dark with woods, and thence stretch soft green meadows down
to the sea-strand, which is fair and smooth, and
yellow.”

“Sawest thou the skerry?” said the Sea-eagle.

“Yea, I saw it,” said Hallblithe, “and it
rises sheer from out the sea about a mile from the yellow strand;
but its rocks are black, like the rocks of the Isle of
Ransom.”

“Son,” said the elder, “give me thine hands
and raise me up a little.”  So Hallblithe took him and
raised him up, so that he sat leaning against the pillows; and he
looked not on Hallblithe, but on the bows of the ship, which now
pitched but a little up and down, for the sea was laid quiet
now.  Then he cried in his shrill, piping voice: “It
is the Land!  It is the Land!”

But after a little while he turned to Hallblithe and spake:
“Short is the tale to tell: thou hast wished me youth, and
thy wish hath thriven; for to-day, ere the sun goes down, thou
shalt see me as I was in the days when I reaped the harvest of
the sea with sharp sword and hardy heart.  For this is the
land of the Undying King, who is our lord and our gift-giver; and
to some he giveth the gift of youth renewed, and life that shall
abide here the Gloom of the Gods.  But none of us all may
come to the Glittering Plain and the King Undying without turning
the back for the last time on the Isle of Ransom: nor may any men
of the Isle come hither save those who are of the House of the
Sea-eagle, and few of those, save the chieftains of the House,
such as are they who sat by thee on the high-seat that
even.  Of these once in a while is chosen one of us, who is
old and spent and past battle, and is borne to this land and the
gift of the Undying.  Forsooth some of us have no will to
take the gift, for they say they are liefer to go to where they
shall meet more of our kindred than dwell on the Glittering Plain
and the Acre of the Undying; but as for me I was ever an
overbearing and masterful man, and meseemeth it is well that I
meet as few of our kindred as may be: for they are a strifeful
race.”

Hereat Hallblithe marvelled exceedingly, and he said:
“And what am I in all this story?  Why am I come
hither with thy furtherance?”

Said the Sea-eagle: “We had a charge from the Undying
King concerning thee, that we should bring thee hither alive and
well, if so be thou camest to the Isle of Ransom.  For what
cause we had the charge, I know not, nor do I greatly
heed.”

Said Hallblithe: “And shall I also have that gift of
undying youth, and life while the world of men and gods
endureth?”

“I must needs deem so,” said the Sea-eagle,
“so long as thou abidest on the Glittering Plain; and I see
not how thou mayst ever escape thence.”

Now Hallblithe heard him, how he said “escape,”
and thereat he was somewhat ill at ease, and stood and pondered a
little.  At last he said: “Is this then all that thou
hast to tell me concerning the Glittering Plain?”

“By the Treasure of the Sea!” said the elder,
“I know no more of it.  The living shall learn. 
But I suppose that thou mayst seek thy troth-plight maiden there
all thou wilt.  Or thou mayst pray the Undying King to have
her thither to thee.  What know I?  At least, it is
like that there shall be no lack of fair women there: or else the
promise of youth renewed is nought and vain.  Shall this not
be enough for thee?”

“Nay,” said Hallblithe.

“What,” said the elder, “must it be one
woman only?”

“One only,” said Hallblithe.

The old man laughed his thin mocking laugh, and said: “I
will not assure thee but that the land of the Glittering Plain
shall change all that for thee so soon as it touches the soles of
thy feet.”

Hallblithe looked at him steadily and smiled, and said:
“Well is it then that I shall find the Hostage there; for
then shall we be of one mind, either to sunder or to cleave
together.  It is well with me this day.”

“And with me it shall be well ere long,” said the
Sea-eagle.

But now the rowers ceased rowing and lay on their oars, and
the shipmen cast anchor; for they were but a bowshot from the
shore, and the ship swung with the tide and lay side-long to the
shore.  Then said the Sea-eagle: “Look forth,
shipmate, and tell me of the land.”

And Hallblithe looked and said: “The yellow beach is
sandy and shell-strewn, as I deem, and there is no great space of
it betwixt the sea and the flowery grass; and a bowshot from the
strand I see a little wood amidst which are fair trees
blossoming.”

“Seest thou any folk on the shore?” said the old
man.  “Yea,” said Hallblithe, “close to
the edge of the sea go four; and by seeming three are women, for
their long gowns flutter in the wind.  And one of these is
clad in saffron colour, and another in white, and another in
watchet; but the carle is clad in dark red; and their raiment is
all glistening as with gold and gems; and by seeming they are
looking at our ship as though they expected somewhat.”

Said the Sea-eagle: “Why now do the shipmen tarry and
have not made ready the skiff?  Swillers and belly-gods they
be; slothful swine that forget their chieftain.”

But even as he spake came four of the shipmen, and without
more ado took him up, bed and all, and bore him down into the
waist of the ship, whereunder lay the skiff with four strong
rowers lying on their oars.  These men made no sign to
Hallblithe, nor took any heed of him; but he caught up his spear,
and followed them and stood by as they lowered the old man into
the boat.  Then he set his foot on the gunwale of the ship
and leapt down lightly into the boat, and none hindered or helped
him; and he stood upright in the boat, a goodly image of battle
with the sun flashing back from his bright helm, his spear in his
hand, his white shield at his back, and thereon the image of the
Raven; but if he had been but a salt-boiling carle of the
sea-side none would have heeded him less.

CHAPTER X: THEY HOLD CONVERSE WITH FOLK OF THE GLITTERING
PLAIN

Now the rowers lifted the ash-blades, and fell to rowing
towards shore: and almost with the first of their strokes, the
Sea-eagle moaned out:

“Would we were there, oh, would we were there! 
Cold groweth eld about my heart.  Raven’s Son, thou
art standing up; tell me if thou canst see what these folk of the
land are doing, and if any others have come thither?”

Said Hallblithe: “There are none others come, but kine
and horses are feeding down the meadows.  As to what those
four are doing, the women are putting off their shoon, and
girding up their raiment, as if they would wade the water toward
us; and the carle, who was barefoot before, wendeth straight
towards the sea, and there he standeth, for very little are the
waves become.”

The old man answered nothing, and did but groan for lack of
patience; but presently when the water was yet waist deep the
rowers stayed the skiff, and two of them slipped over the gunwale
into the sea, and between them all they took up the chieftain on
his bed and got him forth from the boat and went toward the
strand with him; and the landsfolk met them where the water was
shallower, and took him from their hands and bore him forth on to
the yellow sand, and laid him down out of reach of the creeping
ripple of the tide.  Hallblithe withal slipped lightly out
of the boat and waded the water after them.  But the shipmen
rowed back again to their ship, and presently Hallblithe heard
the hale and how, as they got up their anchor.

But when Hallblithe was come ashore, and was drawn near the
folk of the land, the women looked at him askance, and they
laughed and said: “Welcome to thee also, O young
man!”  And he beheld them, and saw that they were of
the stature of the maidens of his own land; they were exceeding
fair of skin and shapely of fashion, so that the nakedness of
their limbs under their girded gowns, and all glistening with the
sea, was most lovely and dainty to behold.  But Hallblithe
knelt by the Sea-eagle to note how he fared, and said: “How
is it with thee, O chieftain?”

The old man answered not a word, and he seemed to be asleep,
and Hallblithe deemed that his cheeks were ruddier and his skin
less wasted and wrinkled than aforetime.  Then spake one of
those women: “Fear not, young man; he is well and will soon
be better.”  Her voice was as sweet as a spring bird
in the morning; she was white-skinned and dark-haired, and full
sweetly fashioned; and she laughed on Hallblithe, but not
mockingly; and her fellows also laughed, as though it was strange
for him to be there.  Then they did on their shoon again,
and with the carle laid their hands to the bed whereon the old
man lay, and lifted him up, and bore him forth on to the grass,
turning their faces toward the flowery wood aforesaid; and they
went a little way and then laid him down again and rested; and so
on little by little, till they had brought him to the edge of the
wood, and still he seemed to be asleep.  Then the damsel who
had spoken before, she with the dark hair, said to Hallblithe,
“Although we have gazed on thee as if with wonder, this is
not because we did not look to meet thee, but because thou art so
fair and goodly a man: so abide thou here till we come back to
thee from out of the wood.”

Therewith she stroked his hand, and with her fellows lifted
the old man once more, and they bore him out of sight into the
thicket.

But Hallblithe went to and fro a dozen paces from the wood,
and looked across the flowery meads and deemed he had never seen
any so fair.  And afar off toward the hills he saw a great
roof arising, and thought he could see men also; and nigher to
him were kine pasturing, and horses also, whereof some drew anear
him and stretched out their necks and gazed at him; and they were
goodly after their kind; and a fair stream of water came round
the corner out of the wood and down the meadows to the sea; and
Hallblithe went thereto and could see that there was but little
ebb and flow of the tide on that shore; for the water of the
stream was clear as glass, and the grass and flowers grew right
down to its water; so he put off his helm and drank of the stream
and washed his face and his hands therein, and then did on his
helm again and turned back again toward the wood, feeling very
strong and merry; and he looked out seaward and saw the Ship of
the Isle of Ransom lessening fast; for a little land wind had
arisen and they had spread their sails to it; and he laid down on
the grass till the four folk of the country came out of the wood
again, after they had been gone somewhat less than an hour, but
the Sea-eagle was not with them: and Hallblithe rose up and
turned to them, and the carle saluted him and departed, going
straight toward that far-away roof he had seen; and the women
were left with Hallblithe, and they looked at him and he at them
as he stood leaning on his spear.

Then said the black-haired damsel: “True it is, O
Spearman, that if we did not know of thee, our wonder would be
great that a man so young and lucky-looking should have sought
hither.”

“I wot not why thou shouldest wonder,” said
Hallblithe; “I will tell thee presently wherefore I come
hither.  But tell me, is this the Land of the Glittering
Plain?”

“Even so,” said the damsel, “dost thou not
see how the sun shineth on it?  Just so it shineth in the
season that other folks call winter.”

“Some such marvel I thought to hear of,” said he;
“for I have been told that the land is marvellous; and fair
though these meadows be, they are not marvellous to look on now:
they are like other lands, though it maybe, fairer.”

“That may be,” she said; “we have nought but
hearsay of other lands.  If we ever knew them we have
forgotten them.”

Said Hallblithe, “Is this land called also the Acre of
the Undying?”

As he spake the words the smile faded from the damsel’s
face; she and her fellows grew pale, and she said: “Hold
thy peace of such words!  They are not lawful for any man to
utter here.  Yet mayst thou call it the Land of the
Living.”

He said: “I crave pardon for the rash word.”

Then they smiled again, and drew near to him, and caressed him
with their hands, and looked on him lovingly; but he drew a
little aback from them and said: “I have come hither
seeking something which I have lost, the lack whereof grieveth
me.”

Quoth the damsel, drawing nearer to him again, “Mayst
thou find it, thou lovely man, and whatsoever else thou
desirest.”

Then he said: “Hath a woman named the Hostage been
brought hither of late days?  A fair woman, bright-haired
and grey-eyed, kind of countenance, soft of speech, yet outspoken
and nought timorous; tall according to our stature, but very
goodly of fashion; a woman of the House of the Rose, and my
troth-plight maiden.”

They looked on each other and shook their heads, and the
black-haired damsel spake: “We know of no such a woman, nor
of the kindred which thou namest.”

Then his countenance fell, and became piteous with desire and
grief, and he bent his brows upon them, for they seemed to him
light-minded and careless, though they were lovely.

But they shrank from him trembling, and drew aback; for they
had all been standing close to him, beholding him with love, and
she who had spoken most had been holding his left hand
fondly.  But now she said: “Nay, look not on us so
bitterly!  If the woman be not in the land, this cometh not
of our malice.  Yet maybe she is here.  For such as
come hither keep not their old names, and soon forget them what
they were.  Thou shalt go with us to the King, and he shall
do for thee what thou wilt; for he is exceeding
mighty.”

Then was Hallblithe appeased somewhat; and he said: “Are
there many women in the land?”

“Yea, many,” said that damsel.

“And many that are as fair as ye be?” said
he.  Then they laughed and were glad, and drew near to him
again and took his hands and kissed them; and the black-haired
damsel said: “Yea, yea, there be many as fair as we be, and
some fairer,” and she laughed.

“And that King of yours,” said he, “how do
ye name him?”

“He is the King,” said the damsel.

“Hath he no other name?” said Hallblithe.

“We may not utter it,” she said; “but thou
shalt see him soon, that there is nought but good in him and
mightiness.”

CHAPTER XI: THE SEA-EAGLE RENEWETH HIS LIFE

But while they spake together thus, came a man from out of the
wood very tall of stature, red-bearded and black-haired,
ruddy-cheeked, full-limbed, most joyous of aspect; a man by
seeming of five and thirty winters.  He strode straight up
to Hallblithe, and cast his arms about him, and kissed his cheek,
as if he had been an old and dear friend newly come from over
seas.

Hallblithe wondered and laughed, and said: “Who art thou
that deemest me so dear?”

Said the man: “Short is thy memory, Son of the Raven,
that thou in so little space hast forgotten thy shipmate and thy
faring-fellow; who gave thee meat and drink and good rede in the
Hall of the Ravagers.”  Therewith he laughed joyously
and turned about to the three maidens and took them by the hands
and kissed their lips, while they fawned upon him lovingly.

Then said Hallblithe: “Hast thou verily gotten thy youth
again, which thou badest me wish thee?”

“Yea, in good sooth,” said the red-bearded man;
“I am the Sea-eagle of old days; and I have gotten my
youth, and love therewithal, and somewhat to love
moreover.”

Therewith he turned to the fairest of the damsels, and she was
white-skinned and fragrant as the lily, rose-cheeked and slender,
and the wind played with the long locks of her golden hair, which
hung down below her knees; so he cast his arms about her and
strained her to his bosom, and kissed her face many times, and
she nothing loth, but caressing him with lips and hand.  But
the other two damsels stood by smiling and joyous: and they
clapped their hands together and kissed each other for joy of the
new lover; and at last fell to dancing and skipping about them
like young lambs in the meadows of Spring-tide.  But amongst
them all, stood up Hallblithe leaning on his spear with smiling
lips and knitted brow; for he was pondering in his mind in what
wise he might further his quest.

But after they had danced a while the Sea-eagle left his love
that he had chosen and took a hand of either of the two damsels,
and led them tripping up to Hallblithe, and cried out:
“Choose thou, Raven’s baby, which of these twain thou
wilt have to thy mate; for scarcely shalt thou see better or
fairer.”

But Hallblithe looked on them proudly and sternly, and the
black-haired damsel hung down her head before him and said
softly: “Nay, nay, sea-warrior; this one is too lovely to
be our mate.  Sweeter love abides him, and lips more longed
for.”

Then stirred Hallblithe’s heart within him and he said:
“O Eagle of the Sea, thou hast thy youth again: what then
wilt thou do with it?  Wilt thou not weary for the moonlit
main, and the washing of waves and the dashing of spray, and thy
fellows all glistening with the brine?  Where now shall be
the alien shores before thee, and the landing for fame, and
departure for the gain of goods?  Wilt thou forget the
ship’s black side, and the dripping of the windward oars,
as the squall falleth on when the sun hath arisen, and the sail
tuggeth hard on the sheet, and the ship lieth over and the lads
shout against the whistle of the wind?  Has the spear fallen
from thine hand, and hast thou buried the sword of thy fathers in
the grave from which thy body hath escaped?  What art thou,
O Warrior, in the land of the alien and the King?  Who shall
heed thee or tell the tale of thy glory, which thou hast covered
over with the hand of a light woman, whom thy kindred knoweth
not, and who was not born in a house wherefrom it hath been
appointed thee from of old to take the pleasure of woman? 
Whose thrall art thou now, thou lifter of the spoil, thou scarer
of the freeborn?  The bidding of what lord or King wilt thou
do, O Chieftain, that thou mayst eat thy meat in the morning and
lie soft in thy bed in the evening?”

“O Warrior of the Ravagers, here stand I, Hallblithe of
the Raven, and I am come into an alien land beset with marvels to
seek mine own, and find that which is dearest to mine heart; to
wit, my troth-plight maiden the Hostage of the Rose, the fair
woman who shall lie in my bed, and bear me children, and stand by
me in field and fold, by thwart and gunwale, before the bow and
the spear, by the flickering of the cooking-fire, and amidst the
blaze of the burning hall, and beside the bale-fire of the
warrior of the Raven.  O Sea-eagle, my guester amongst the
foemen, my fellow-farer and shipmate, say now once for all
whether thou wilt help me in my quest, or fall off from me as a
dastard?”

Again the maidens shrank before his clear and high-raised
voice, and they trembled and grew pale.

But the Sea-eagle laughed from a countenance kind with joy,
and said: “Child of the Raven, thy words are good and
manly: but it availeth nought in this land, and I wot not how
thou wilt fare, or why thou hast been sent amongst us.  What
wilt thou do?  Hadst thou spoken these words to the
Long-hoary, the Grandfather, yesterday, his ears would have been
deaf to them; and now that thou speakest them to the Sea-eagle,
this joyous man on the Glittering Plain, he cannot do according
to them, for there is no other land than this which can hold
him.  Here he is strong and stark, and full of joy and love;
but otherwhere he would be but a gibbering ghost drifting down
the wind of night.  Therefore in whatsoever thou mayst do
within this land I will stand by thee and help thee; but not one
inch beyond it may my foot go, whether it be down into the brine
of the sea, or up into the clefts of the mountains which are the
wall of this goodly land.

“Thou hast been my shipmate and I love thee, I am thy
friend; but here in this land must needs be the love and the
friendship.  For no ghost can love thee, no ghost may help
thee.  And as to what thou sayest concerning the days gone
past and our joys upon the tumbling sea, true it is that those
days were good and lovely; but they are dead and gone like the
lads who sat on the thwart beside us, and the maidens who took
our hands in the hall to lead us to the chamber.  Other days
have come in their stead, and other friends shall cherish
us.  What then?  Shall we wound the living to pleasure
the dead, who cannot heed it?  Shall we curse the Yuletide,
and cast foul water on the Holy Hearth of the winter feast,
because the summer once was fair and the days flit and the times
change?  Now let us be glad!  For life
liveth.”

Therewith he turned about to his damsel and kissed her on the
mouth.  But Hallblithe’s face was grown sad and stern,
and he spake slowly and heavily: “So is it, shipmate, that
whereas thou sayest that the days flit, for thee they shall flit
no more; and the day may come for thee when thou shalt be weary,
and know it, and long for the lost which thou hast
forgotten.  But hereof it availeth nought for me to speak
any longer, for thine ears are deaf to these words, and thou wilt
not hear them.  Therefore I say no more save that I thank
thee for thy help whatsoever it may be; and I will take it, for
the day’s work lieth before me, and I begin to think that
it may be heavy enough.”

The women yet looked downcast, and as if they would be gone
out of earshot; but the Sea-eagle laughed as one who is well
content, and said: “Thou thyself wilt make it hard for
thyself after the wont of thy proud and haughty race; but for me
nothing is hard any longer; neither thy scorn nor thy forebodings
of evil.  Be thou my friend as much as thou canst, and I
will be thine wholly.  Now ye women, whither will ye lead
us?  For I am ready to see any new thing ye will show
us.”

Said his damsel: “We will take you to the King, that
your hearts may be the more gladdened.  And as for thy
friend the Spearman, O Sea-warrior, let not his heart be
downcast.  Who wotteth but that these two desires, the
desire of his heart, and the desire of a heart for him, may not
be one and the same desire, so that he shall be fully
satisfied?”  As she spoke she looked sidelong at
Hallblithe, with shy and wheedling eyes; and he wondered at her
word, and a new hope sprang up in his heart that he was presently
to be brought face to face with the Hostage, and that this was
that love, sweeter than their love, which abode in him, and his
heart became lighter, and his visage cleared.

CHAPTER XII: THEY LOOK ON THE KING OF THE GLITTERING
PLAIN

So now the women led them along up the stream, and Hallblithe
went side by side by the Sea-eagle; but the women had become
altogether merry again, and played and ran about them as gamesome
as young goats; and they waded the shallows of the clear bright
stream barefoot to wash their limbs of the sea-brine, and strayed
about the meadows, plucking the flowers and making them wreaths
and chaplets, which they did upon themselves and the Sea-eagle;
but Hallblithe they touched not, for still they feared him. 
They went on as the stream led them up toward the hills, and ever
were the meads about them as fair and flowery as might be. 
Folk they saw afar off, but fell in with none for a good while,
saving a man and a maid clad lightly as for mid-summer days, who
were wandering together lovingly and happily by the stream-side,
and who gazed wonderingly on the stark Sea-eagle, and on
Hallblithe with his glittering spear.  The black-haired
damsel greeted these twain and spake something to them, and they
laughed merrily, and the man stooped down amongst the grasses and
blossoms of the bank, and drew forth a basket, and spread dainty
victuals on the grass under a willow-tree, and bade them be his
guests that fair afternoon.  So they sat down there above
the glistering stream and ate and drank and were merry. 
Thereafter the new-comers and their way-leaders departed with
kind words, and still set their faces towards the hills.

At last they saw before them a little wooded hill, and
underneath it something red and shining, and other coloured
things gleaming in the sun about it.  Then said the
Sea-eagle: “What have we yonder?”

Said his damsel: “That is the pavilion of the King; and
about it are the tents and tilts of our folk who are of his
fellowship: for oft he abideth in the fields with them, though he
hath houses and halls as fair as the heart of man can
conceive.”

“Hath he no foemen to fear?” said the
Sea-eagle.

“How should that be?” said the damsel. 
“If perchance any came into this land to bring war upon
him, their battle-anger should depart when once the bliss of the
Glittering Plain had entered into their souls, and they would ask
for nought but leave to abide here and be happy.  Yet I trow
that if he had foemen he could crush them as easily as I set my
foot on this daisy.”

So as they went on they fell in with many folk, men and women,
sporting and playing in the fields; and there was no semblance of
eld on any of them, and no scar or blemish or feebleness of body
or sadness of countenance; nor did any bear a weapon or any piece
of armour.  Now some of them gathered about the new-corners,
and wondered at Hallblithe and his long spear and shining helm
and dark grey byrny; but none asked concerning them, for all knew
that they were folk new come to the bliss of the Glittering
Plain.  So they passed amidst these fair folk little
hindered by them, and into Hallblithe’s thoughts it came
how joyous the fellowship of such should be and how his heart
should be raised by the sight of them, if only his troth-plight
maiden were by his side.

Thus then they came to the King’s pavilion, where it
stood in a bight of the meadow-land at the foot of the hill, with
the wood about it on three sides.  So fair a house
Hallblithe deemed he had never seen; for it was wrought all over
with histories and flowers, and with hems sewn with gold, and
with orphreys of gold and pearl and gems.

There in the door of it sat the King of the Land in an ivory
chair; he was clad in golden gown, girt with a girdle of gems,
and had his crown on his head and his sword by his side. 
For this was the hour wherein he heard what any of his folk would
say to him, and for that very end he sat there in the door of his
tent, and folk were standing before him, and sitting and lying on
the grass round about; and now one, now another, came up to him
and spoke before him.

His face shone like a star; it was exceeding beauteous, and as
kind as the even of May in the gardens of the happy, when the
scent of the eglantine fills all the air.  When he spoke his
voice was so sweet that all hearts were ravished, and none might
gainsay him.

But when Hallblithe set eyes on him, he knew at once that this
was he whose carven image he had seen in the Hall of the
Ravagers, and his heart beat fast, and he said to himself:
“Hold up thine head now, O Son of the Raven, strengthen
thine heart, and let no man or god cow thee.  For how can
thine heart change, which bade thee go to the house wherefrom it
was due to thee to take the pleasure of woman, and there to
pledge thy faith and troth to her that loveth thee most, and
hankereth for thee day by day and hour by hour, so that great is
the love that we twain have builded up.”

Now they drew nigh, for folk fell back before them to the
right and left, as before men who are new come and have much to
do; so that there was nought between them and the face of the
King.  But he smiled upon them so that he cheered their
hearts with the hope of fulfilment of their desires, and he said:
“Welcome, children!  Who be these whom ye have brought
hither for the increase of our joy?  Who is this tall,
ruddy-faced, joyous man so meet for the bliss of the Glittering
Plain?  And who is this goodly and lovely young man, who
beareth weapons amidst our peace, and whose face is sad and stern
beneath the gleaming of his helm?”

Said the dark-haired damsel: “O King!  O Gift-giver
and assurer of joy! this tall one is he who was once oppressed by
eld, and who hath come hither to thee from the Isle of Ransom,
according to the custom of the land.”

Said the King: “Tall man, it is well that thou art
come.  Now are thy days changed and thou yet alive. 
For thee battle is ended, and therewith the reward of battle,
which the warrior remembereth not amidst the hard hand-play:
peace hath begun, and thou needest not be careful for the
endurance thereof: for in this land no man hath a lack which he
may not satisfy without taking aught from any other.  I deem
not that thine heart may conceive a desire which I shall not
fulfil for thee, or crave a gift which I shall not give
thee.”

Then the Sea-eagle laughed for joy, and turned his head this
way and that, so that he might the better take to him the smiles
of all those that stood around.

Then the King said to Hallblithe: “Thou also art
welcome; I know thee who thou art: meseemeth great joy awaiteth
thee, and I will fulfil thy desire to the uttermost.”

Said Hallblithe: “O great King of a happy land, I ask of
thee nought save that which none shall withhold from me
uncursed.”

“I will give it to thee,” said the King,
“and thou shalt bless me.  But what is it which thou
wouldst?  What more canst thou have than the Gifts of the
land?”

Said Hallblithe: “I came hither seeking no gifts, but to
have mine own again; and that is the bodily love of my
troth-plight maiden.  They stole her from me, and me from
her; for she loved me.  I went down to the sea-side and
found her not, nor the ship which had borne her away.  I
sailed from thence to the Isle of Ransom, for they told me that
there I should buy her for a price; neither was her body
there.  But her image came to me in a dream of the night,
and bade me seek to her hither.  Therefore, O King, if she
be here in the land, show me how I shall find her, and if she be
not here, show me how I may depart to seek her otherwhere. 
This is all my asking.”

Said the King: “Thy desire shall be satisfied; thou
shalt have the woman who would have thee, and whom thou shouldst
have.”

Hallblithe was gladdened beyond measure by that word; and now
did the King seem to him a comfort and a solace to every heart,
even as he had deemed of his carven image in the Hall of the
Ravagers; and he thanked him, and blessed him.

But the King bade him abide by him that night, and feast with
him.  “And on the morrow,” said he, “thou
shalt go thy ways to look on her whom thou oughtest to
love.”

Therewith was come the eventide and beginning of night, warm
and fragrant and bright with the twinkling of stars, and they
went into the King’s pavilion, and there was the feast as
fair and dainty as might be; and Hallblithe had meat from the
King’s own dish, and drink from his cup; but the meat had
no savour to him and the drink no delight, because of the longing
that possessed him.

And when the feast was done, the damsels led Hallblithe to his
bed in a fair tent strewn with gold about his head like the
starry night, and he lay down and slept for sheer weariness of
body.

CHAPTER XIII: HALLBLITHE BEHOLDETH THE WOMAN WHO LOVETH
HIM

But on the morrow the men arose, and the Sea-eagle and his
damsel came to Hallblithe; for the other two damsels were
departed, and the Sea-eagle said to him:

“Here am I well honoured and measurelessly happy; and I
have a message for thee from the King.”

“What is it?” said Hallblithe; but he deemed that
he knew what it would be, and he reddened for the joy of his
assured hope.

Said the Sea-eagle: “Joy to thee, O shipmate!  I am
to take thee to the place where thy beloved abideth, and there
shalt thou see her, but not so as she can see thee; and
thereafter shalt thou go to the King, that thou mayst tell him if
she shall accomplish thy desire.”

Then was Hallblithe glad beyond measure, and his heart danced
within him, and he deemed it but meet that the others should be
so joyous and blithe with him, for they led him along without any
delay, and were glad at his rejoicing; and words failed him to
tell of his gladness.

But as he went, the thoughts of his coming converse with his
beloved curled sweetly round his heart, so that scarce anything
had seemed so sweet to him before; and he fell a-pondering what
they twain, he and the Hostage, should do when they came together
again; whether they should abide on the Glittering Plain, or go
back again to Cleveland by the Sea and dwell in the House of the
Kindred; and for his part he yearned to behold the roof of his
fathers and to tread the meadow which his scythe had swept, and
the acres where his hook had smitten the wheat.  But he said
to himself, “I will wait till I hear her desire
hereon.”

Now they went into the wood at the back of the King’s
pavilion and through it, and so over the hill, and beyond it came
into a land of hills and dales exceeding fair and lovely; and a
river wound about the dales, lapping in turn the feet of one
hill-side or the other; and in each dale (for they passed through
two) was a goodly house of men, and tillage about it, and
vineyards and orchards.  They went all day till the sun was
near setting, and were not weary, for they turned into the houses
by the way when they would, and had good welcome and meat and
drink and what they would of the folk that dwelt there. 
Thus anigh sunset they came into a dale fairer than either of the
others, and nigh to the end where they had entered it was an
exceeding goodly house.  Then said the damsel:

“We are nigh-hand to our journey’s end; let us sit
down on the grass by this river-side whilst I tell thee the tale
which the King would have thee know.”

So they sat down on the grass beside the brimming river, scant
two bowshots from that fair house, and the damsel said, reading
from a scroll which she drew from her bosom:

“O Spearman, in yonder house dwelleth the woman
foredoomed to love thee: if thou wouldst see her, go thitherward,
following the path which turneth from the river-side by yonder
oak-tree, and thou shalt presently come to a thicket of bay-trees
at the edge of an apple-orchard, whose trees are blossoming;
abide thou hidden by the bay-leaves, and thou shalt see maidens
come into the orchard, and at last one fairer than all the
others.  This shall be thy love fore-doomed, and none other;
and thou shalt know her by this token, that when she hath set her
down on the grass beside the bay-tree, she shall say to her
maidens ‘Bring me now the book wherein is the image of my
beloved, that I may solace myself with beholding it before the
sun goes down and the night cometh.’”

Now Hallblithe was troubled when she read out these words, and
he said: “What is this tale about a book?  I know not
of any book that lieth betwixt me and my beloved.”

“O Spearman,” said the damsel, “I may tell
thee no more, because I know no more.  But keep up thine
heart!  For dost thou know any more than I do what hath
befallen thy beloved since thou wert sundered from her? and why
should not this matter of the book be one of the things that hath
befallen her?  Go now with joy, and come again blessing
us.”

“Yea, go, faring-fellow,” said the Sea-eagle,
“and come back joyful, that we may all be merry
together.  And we will abide thee here.”

Hallblithe foreboded evil, but he held his peace and went his
ways down the path by the oak-tree; and they abode there by the
water-side, and were very merry talking of this and that (but no
whit of Hallblithe), and kissing and caressing each other; so
that it seemed but a little while to them ere they saw Hallblithe
coming back by the oak-tree.  He went slowly, hanging his
head like a man sore-burdened with grief: thus he came up to
them, and stood there above them as they lay on the fragrant
grass, and he saying no word and looking so sad and sorry, and
withal so fell, that they feared his grief and his anger, and
would fain have been away from him; so that they durst not ask
him a question for a long while, and the sun sank below the hill
while they abided thus.

Then all trembling the damsel spake to the Sea-eagle:
“Speak to him, dear friend, else must I flee away, for I
fear his silence.”

Quoth the Sea-eagle: “Shipmate and friend, what hath
betided?  How art thou?  May we hearken, and mayhappen
amend it?”

Then Hallblithe cast himself adown on the grass and said:
“I am accursed and beguiled; and I wander round and round
in a tangle that I may not escape from.  I am not far from
deeming that this is a land of dreams made for my
beguiling.  Or has the earth become so full of lies, that
there is no room amidst them for a true man to stand upon his
feet and go his ways?”

Said the Sea-eagle: “Thou shalt tell us of what hath
betid, and so ease the sorrow of thy soul if thou wilt.  Or
if thou wilt, thou shalt nurse thy sorrow in thine heart and tell
no man.  Do what thou wilt; am I not become thy
friend?”

Said Hallblithe: “I will tell you twain the tidings, and
thereafter ask me no more concerning them.  Hearken.  I
went whereas ye bade me, and hid myself in the bay-tree thicket;
and there came maidens into the blossoming orchard and made a
resting-place with silken cushions close to where I was lurking,
and stood about as though they were looking for some one to
come.  In a little time came two more maidens, and betwixt
them one so much fairer than any there, that my heart sank within
me: whereas I deemed because of her fairness that this would be
the fore-doomed love whereof ye spake, and lo, she was in nought
like to my troth-plight maiden, save that she was exceeding
beauteous: nevertheless, heart-sick as I was, I determined to
abide the token that ye told me of.  So she lay down amidst
those cushions, and I beheld her that she was sad of countenance;
and she was so near to me that I could see the tears welling into
her eyes, and running down her cheeks; so that I should have
grieved sorely for her had I not been grieving so sorely for
myself.  For presently she sat up and said ‘O maiden,
bring me hither the book wherein is the image of my beloved, that
I may behold it in this season of sunset wherein I first beheld
it; that I may fill my heart with the sight thereof before the
sun is gone and the dark night come.’

“Then indeed my heart died within me when I wotted that
this was the love whereof the King spake, that he would give to
me, and she not mine own beloved, yet I could not choose but
abide and look on a while, and she being one that any man might
love beyond measure.  Now a maiden went away into the house
and came back again with a book covered with gold set with gems;
and the fair woman took it and opened it, and I was so near to
her that I saw every leaf clearly as she turned the leaves. 
And in that book were pictures of many things, as flaming
mountains, and castles of war, and ships upon the sea, but
chiefly of fair women, and queens, and warriors and kings; and it
was done in gold and azure and cinnabar and minium.  So she
turned the leaves, till she came to one whereon was pictured none
other than myself, and over against me was the image of mine own
beloved, the Hostage of the Rose, as if she were alive, so that
the heart within me swelled with the sobbing which I must needs
refrain, which grieved me like a sword-stroke.  Shame also
took hold of me as the fair woman spoke to my painted image, and
I lying well-nigh within touch of her hand; but she said:
‘O my beloved, why dost thou delay to come to me?  For
I deemed that this eve at least thou wouldst come, so many and
strong as are the meshes of love which we have cast about thy
feet.  Oh come to-morrow at the least and latest, or what
shall I do, and wherewith shall I quench the grief of my
heart?  Or else why am I the daughter of the Undying King,
the Lord of the Treasure of the Sea?  Why have they wrought
new marvels for me, and compelled the Ravagers of the Coasts to
serve me, and sent false dreams flitting on the wings of the
night?  Yea, why is the earth fair and fruitful, and the
heavens kind above it, if thou comest not to-night, nor
to-morrow, nor the day after?  And I the daughter of the
Undying, on whom the days shall grow and grow as the grains of
sand which the wind heaps up above the sea-beach.  And life
shall grow huger and more hideous round about the lonely one,
like the ling-worm laid upon the gold, that waxeth thereby, till
it lies all around about the house of the queen entrapped, the
moveless unending ring of the years that change not.’

“So she spake till the weeping ended her words, and I
was all abashed with shame and pale with anguish.  I stole
quietly from my lair unheeded of any, save that one damsel said
that a rabbit ran in the hedge, and another that a blackbird
stirred in the thicket.  Behold me, then, that my quest
beginneth again amidst the tangle of lies whereinto I have been
entrapped.”

CHAPTER XIV: HALLBLITHE HAS SPEECH WITH THE KING AGAIN

He stood up when he had made an end, as a man ready for the
road; but they lay there downcast and abashed, and had no words
to answer him.  For the Sea-eagle was sorry that his
faring-fellow was hapless, and was sorry that he was sorry; and
as for the damsel, she had not known but that she was leading the
goodly Spearman to the fulfilment of his heart’s
desire.  Albeit after a while she spake again and said:

“Dear friends, day is gone and night is at hand; now
to-night it were ill lodging at yonder house; and the next house
on our backward road is over far for wayworn folk.  But hard
by through the thicket is a fair little wood-lawn, by the lip of
a pool in the stream wherein we may bathe us to-morrow morning;
and it is grassy and flowery and sheltered from all winds that
blow, and I have victual enough in my wallet.  Let us sup
and rest there under the bare heaven, as oft is the wont of us in
this land; and on the morrow early we will arise and get us back
again to Wood-end, where yet the King abideth, and there shalt
thou talk to him again, O Spearman.”

Said Hallblithe: “Take me whither ye will; but now
nought availeth.  I am a captive in a land of lies, and here
most like shall I live betrayed and die hapless.”

“Hold thy peace, dear friend, of such words as those
last,” said she, “or I must needs flee from thee, for
they hurt me sorely.  Come now to this pleasant
place.”

She took him by the hand and looked kindly on him, and the
Sea-eagle followed him, murmuring an old song of the
harvest-field, and they went together by a path through a thicket
of white-thorn till they came unto a grassy place.  There
then they sat them down, and ate and drank what they would,
sitting by the lip of the pool till a waning moon was bright over
their heads.  And Hallblithe made no semblance of content;
but the Sea-eagle and his damsel were grown merry again, and
talked and sang together like autumn stares, with the kissing and
caressing of lovers.

So at last those twain lay down amongst the flowers, and slept
in each other’s arms; but Hallblithe betook him to the
brake a little aloof, and lay down, but slept not till morning
was at hand, when slumber and confused dreams overtook him.

He was awaked from his sleep by the damsel, who came pushing
through the thicket all fresh and rosy from the river, and roused
him, and said:

“Awake now, Spearman, that we may take our pleasure in
the sun; for he is high in the heavens now, and all the land
laughs beneath him.”

Her eyes glittered as she spoke, and her limbs moved under her
raiment as though she would presently fall to dancing for very
joy.  But Hallblithe arose wearily, and gave her back no
smile in answer, but thrust through the thicket to the water, and
washed the night from off him, and so came back to the twain as
they sat dallying together over their breakfast.  He would
not sit down by them, but ate a morsel of bread as he stood, and
said: “Tell me how I can soonest find the King: I bid you
not lead me thither, but let me go my ways alone.  For with
me time presses, and with you meseemeth time is nought. 
Neither am I a meet fellow for the happy.”

But the Sea-eagle sprang up, and swore with a great oath that
he would nowise leave his shipmate in the lurch.  And the
damsel said: “Fair man, I had best go with thee; I shall
not hinder thee, but further thee rather, so that thou shalt make
one day’s journey of two.”

And she put forth her hand to him, and caressed him smiling,
and fawned upon him, and he heeded it little, but hung not aback
from them since they were ready for the road: so they set forth
all three together.

They made such diligence on the backward road that the sun was
not set by then they came to Wood-end; and there was the King
sitting in the door of his pavilion.  Thither went
Hallblithe straight, and thrust through the throng, and stood
before the King; who greeted him kindly, and was no less sweet of
face than on that other day.

Hallblithe hailed him not, but said: “King, look on my
anguish, and if thou art other than a king of dreams and lies,
play no longer with me, but tell me straight out if thou knowest
of my troth-plight maiden, whether she is in this land or
not.”

Then the King smiled on him and said: “True it is that I
know of her; yet know I not whether she is in this land or
not.”

“King,” said Hallblithe, “wilt thou bring us
together and stay my heart’s bleeding?”

Said the King: “I cannot, since I know not where she
is.”

“Why didst thou lie to me the other day?” said
Hallblithe.

“I lied not,” said the King; “I bade bring
thee to the woman that loved thee, and whom thou shouldst love;
and that is my daughter.  And look thou!  Even as I may
not bring thee to thine earthly love, so couldst thou not make
thyself manifest before my daughter, and become her deathless
love.  Is it not enough?”

He spake sternly for all that he smiled, and Hallblithe said:
“O King, have pity on me!”

“Yea,” said the King; “pity thee I do: but I
will live despite thy sorrow; my pity of thee shall not slay me,
or make thee happy.  Even in such wise didst thou pity my
daughter.”

Said Hallblithe: “Thou art mighty, O King, and maybe the
mightiest.  Wilt thou not help me?”

“How can I help thee?” said the King, “thou
who wilt not help thyself.  Thou hast seen what thou
shouldst do: do it then and be holpen.”

Then said Hallblithe: “Wilt thou not slay me, O King,
since thou wilt not do aught else?”

“Nay,” said the King, “thy slaying wilt not
serve me nor mine: I will neither help nor hinder.  Thou art
free to seek thy love wheresoever thou wilt in this my
realm.  Depart in peace!”

Hallblithe saw that the King was angry, though he smiled upon
him; yet so coldly, that the face of him froze the very marrow of
Hallblithe’s bones: and he said within himself: “This
King of lies shall not slay me, though mine anguish be hard to
bear: for I am alive, and it may be that my love is in this land,
and I may find her here, and how to reach another land I know
not.”

So he turned from before the face of the King as the sun was
setting, and he went down the land southward betwixt the
mountains and the sea, not heeding whether it were night or day;
and he went on till it was long past midnight, and then for mere
weariness laid him down under a tree, not knowing where he was,
and fell asleep.

And in the morning he woke up to the bright sun, and found
folk standing round about him, both men and women, and their
sheep were anigh them, for they were shepherd folk.  So when
they saw that he was awake, they greeted him, and were blithe
with him and made much of him: and they took him home to their
house, and gave him to eat and to drink, and asked him what he
would that they might serve him.  And they seemed to him to
be kind and simple folk, and though he loathed to speak the
words, so sick at heart he was, yet he told them how he was
seeking his troth-plight maiden, his earthly love, and asked them
to say if they had seen any woman like her.

They heard him kindly and pitied him, and told him how they
had heard of a woman in the land, who sought her beloved even as
he sought his.  And when he heard that, his heart leapt up,
and he asked them to tell him more concerning this woman. 
Then they said that she dwelt in the hill-country in a goodly
house, and had set her heart on a lovely man, whose image she had
seen in a book, and that no man but this one would content her;
and this, they said, was a sad and sorry matter, such as was
unheard of hitherto in the land.

So when Hallblithe heard this, as heavily as his heart fell
again, he changed not countenance, but thanked the kind folk and
departed, and went on down the land betwixt the mountains and the
sea, and before nightfall he had been into three more houses of
folk, and asked there of all comers concerning a woman who was
sundered from her beloved; and at none of them gat he any answer
to make him less sorry than yesterday.  At the last of the
three he slept, and on the morrow early there was the work to
begin again; and the next day was the same as the last, and the
day after differed not from it.  Thus he went on seeking his
beloved betwixt the mountains and the plain, till the great
rock-wall came down to the side of the sea and made an end of the
Glittering Plain on that side.  Then he turned about and
went back by the way he had come, and up the country betwixt the
mountains and the plain northward, until he had been into every
house of folk in those parts and asked his question.

Then he went up into that fair country of the dales, and even
anigh to where dwelt the King’s Daughter, and otherwhere in
the land and everywhere, quartering the realm of the Glittering
Plain as the heron quarters the flooded meadow when the waters
draw aback into the river.  So that now all people knew him
when he came, and they wondered at him; but when he came to any
house for the third or fourth time, they wearied of him, and were
glad when he departed.

Ever it was one of two answers that he had: either folk said
to him, “There is no such woman; this land is happy, and
nought but happy people dwell herein;” or else they told
him of the woman who lived in sorrow, and was ever looking on a
book, that she might bring to her the man whom she desired.

Whiles he wearied and longed for death, but would not die
until there was no corner of the land unsearched.  Whiles he
shook off weariness, and went about his quest as a craftsman sets
about his work in the morning.  Whiles it irked him to see
the soft and merry folk of the land, who had no skill to help
him, and he longed for the house of his fathers and the men of
the spear and the plough; and thought, “Oh, if I might but
get me back, if it were but for an hour and to die there, to the
meadows of the Raven, and the acres beneath the mountains of
Cleveland by the Sea.  Then at least should I learn some
tale of what is or what hath been, howsoever evil the tidings
were, and not be bandied about by lies for ever.”

CHAPTER XV: YET HALLBLITHE SPEAKETH WITH THE KING

So wore the days and the moons; and now were some six moons
worn since first he came to the Glittering Plain; and he was come
to Wood-end again, and heard and knew that the King was sitting
once more in the door of his pavilion to hearken to the words of
his people, and he said to himself: “I will speak yet again
to this man, if indeed he be a man; yea, though he turn me into
stone.”

And he went up toward the pavilion; and on the way it came
into his mind what the men of the kindred were doing that
morning; and he had a vision of them as it were, and saw them
yoking the oxen to the plough, and slowly going down the acres,
as the shining iron drew the long furrow down the stubble-land,
and the light haze hung about the elm-trees in the calm morning,
and the smoke rose straight into the air from the roof of the
kindred.  And he said: “What is this? am I
death-doomed this morning that this sight cometh so clearly upon
me amidst the falseness of this unchanging land?”

Thus he came to the pavilion, and folk fell back before him to
the right and the left, and he stood before the King, and said to
him: “I cannot find her; she is not in thy land.”

Then spake the King, smiling upon him, as erst: “What
wilt thou then?  Is it not time to rest?”

He said: “Yea, O King; but not in this land.”

Said the King: “Where else than in this land wilt thou
find rest?  Without is battle and famine, longing
unsatisfied, and heart-burning and fear; within it is plenty and
peace and good will and pleasure without cease.  Thy word
hath no meaning to me.”

Said Hallblithe: “Give me leave to depart, and I will
bless thee.”

“Is there nought else to do?” said the King.

“Nought else,” said Hallblithe.

Therewith he felt that the King’s face changed though he
still smiled on him, and again he felt his heart grow cold before
the King.

But the King spake and said: “I hinder not thy
departure, nor will any of my folk.  No hand will be raised
against thee; there is no weapon in all the land, save the
deedless sword by my side and the weapons which thou
bearest.”

Said Hallblithe: “Dost thou not owe me a joy in return
for my beguiling?”

“Yea,” said the King, “reach out thine hand
to take it.”

“One thing only may I take of thee,” said
Hallblithe; “my troth-plight maiden or else the speeding of
my departure.”

Then said the King, and his voice was terrible though yet he
smiled: “I will not hinder; I will not help.  Depart
in peace!”

Then Hallblithe turned away dizzy and half fainting, and
strayed down the field, scarce knowing where he was; and as he
went he felt his sleeve plucked at, and turned about, and lo! he
was face to face with the Sea-eagle, no less joyous than
aforetime.  He took Hallblithe in his arms and embraced him
and kissed him, and said: “Well met, faring-fellow! 
Whither away?”

“Away out of this land of lies,” said
Hallblithe.

The Sea-eagle shook his head, and quoth he: “Art thou
still seeking a dream?  And thou so fair that thou puttest
all other men to shame.”

“I seek no dream,” said Hallblithe, “but
rather the end of dreams.”

“Well,” said the Sea-eagle, “we will not
wrangle about it.  But hearken.  Hard by in a pleasant
nook of the meadows have I set up my tent; and although it be not
as big as the King’s pavilion, yet is it fair enough. 
Wilt thou not come thither with me and rest thee to-night; and
to-morrow we will talk of this matter?”

Now Hallblithe was weary and confused, and downhearted beyond
his wont, and the friendly words of the Sea-eagle softened his
heart, and he smiled on him and said: “I give thee thanks;
I will come with thee: thou art kind, and hast done nought to me
save good from the time when I first saw thee lying in thy bed in
the Hall of the Ravagers.  Dost thou remember the
day?”

The Sea-eagle knitted his brow as one striving with a
troublous memory, and said: “But dimly, friend, as if it
had passed in an ugly dream: meseemeth my friendship with thee
began when I came to thee from out of the wood, and saw thee
standing with those three damsels; that I remember full well ye
were fair to look on.”

Hallblithe wondered at his words, but said no more about it,
and they went together to a flowery nook nigh a stream of clear
water where stood a silken tent, green like the grass which it
stood on, and flecked with gold and goodly colours.  Nigh it
on the grass lay the Sea-eagle’s damsel, ruddy-cheeked and
sweet-lipped, as fair as aforetime.  She turned about when
she heard men coming, and when she saw Hallblithe a smile came
into her face like the sun breaking out on a fair but clouded
morning, and she went up to him and took him by the hands and
kissed his cheek, and said: “Welcome, Spearman! welcome
back!  We have heard of thee in many places, and have been
sorry that thou wert not glad, and now are we fain of thy
returning.  Shall not sweet life begin for thee from
henceforward?”

Again was Hallblithe moved by her kind welcome; but he shook
his head and spake: “Thou art kind, sister; yet if thou
wouldst be kinder thou wilt show me a way whereby I may escape
from this land.  For abiding here has become irksome to me,
and meseemeth that hope is yet alive without the Glittering
Plain.”

Her face fell as she answered: “Yea, and fear also, and
worse, if aught be worse.  But come, let us eat and drink in
this fair place, and gather for thee a little joyance before thou
departest, if thou needs must depart.”

He smiled on her as one not ill-content, and laid himself down
on the grass, while the twain busied themselves, and brought
forth fair cushions and a gilded table, and laid dainty victual
thereon and good wine.

So they ate and drank together, and the Sea-eagle and his mate
became very joyous again, and Hallblithe bestirred himself not to
be a mar-feast; for he said within himself: “I am
departing, and after this time I shall see them no more; and they
are kind and blithe with me, and have been aforetime; I will not
make their merry hearts sore.  For when I am gone I shall be
remembered of them but a little while.”

CHAPTER XVI: THOSE THREE GO THEIR WAYS TO THE EDGE OF THE
GLITTERING PLAIN

So the evening wore merrily; and they made Hallblithe lie in
an ingle of the tent on a fair bed, and he was weary, and slept
thereon like a child.  But in the morning early they waked
him; and while they were breaking their fast they began to speak
to him of his departure, and asked him if he had an inkling of
the way whereby he should get him gone, and he said: “If I
escape it must needs be by way of the mountains that wall the
land about till they come down to the sea.  For on the sea
is no ship and no haven; and well I wot that no man of the land
durst or can ferry me over to the land of my kindred, or
otherwhere without the Glittering Plain.  Tell me therefore
(and I ask no more of you), is there any rumour or memory of a
way that cleaveth yonder mighty wall of rock to other
lands?”

Said the damsel: “There is more than a memory or a
rumour: there is a road through the mountains known to all
men.  For at whiles the earthly pilgrims come into the
Glittering Plain thereby; and yet but seldom, so many are the
griefs and perils which beset the wayfarers on that road. 
Whereof thou hadst far better bethink thee in time, and abide
here and be happy with us and others who long sore to make thee
happy.”

“Nay,” said Hallblithe, “there is nought to
do but tell me of the way, and I will depart at once, blessing
you.”

Said the Sea-eagle: “More than that at least will we
do.  May I lose the bliss whereto I have attained, if I go
not with thee to the very edge of the land of the Glittering
Plain.  Shall it not be so, sweetheart?”

“Yea, at least we may do that,” said the damsel;
and she hung her head as if she were ashamed, and said:
“And that is all that thou wilt get from us at
most.”

Said Hallblithe: “It is enough, and I asked not so
much.”

Then the damsel busied herself, and set meat and drink in two
wallets, and took one herself and gave the other to the
Sea-eagle, and said: “We will be thy porters, O Spearman,
and will give thee a full wallet from the last house by the
Desert of Dread, for when thou hast entered therein, thou mayst
well find victual hard to come by: and now let us linger no more
since the road is dear to thee.”

So they set forth on foot, for in that land men were slow to
feel weariness; and turning about the hill of Wood-end, they
passed by some broken country, and came at even to a house at the
entrance of a long valley, with high and steeply-sloping sides,
which seemed, as it were, to cleave the dale country wherein they
had fared aforetime.  At that house they slept well-guested
by its folk, and the next morning took their way down the valley,
and the folk of the house stood at the door to watch their
departure; for they had told the wayfarers that they had fared
but a little way thitherward and knew of no folk who had used
that road.

So those three fared down the valley southward all day, ever
mounting higher as they went.  The way was pleasant and
easy, for they went over fair, smooth, grassy lawns betwixt the
hill-sides, beside a clear rattling stream that ran northward; at
whiles were clumps of tall trees, oak for the most part, and at
whiles thickets of thorn and eglantine and other such trees: so
that they could rest well shaded when they would.

They passed by no house of men, nor came to any such in the
even, but lay down to sleep in a thicket of thorn and eglantine,
and rested well, and on the morrow they rose up betimes and went
on their ways.

This second day as they went, the hill-sides on either hand
grew lower, till at last they died out into a wide plain, beyond
which in the southern offing the mountains rose huge and
bare.  This plain also was grassy and beset with trees and
thickets here and there.  Hereon they saw wild deer enough,
as hart and buck, and roebuck and swine: withal a lion came out
of a brake hard by them as they went, and stood gazing on them,
so that Hallblithe looked to his weapons, and the Sea-eagle took
up a big stone to fight with, being weaponless; but the damsel
laughed, and tripped on her way lightly with girt-up gown, and
the beast gave no more heed to them.

Easy and smooth was their way over this pleasant wilderness,
and clear to see, though but little used, and before nightfall,
after they had gone a long way, they came to a house.  It
was not large nor high, but was built very strongly and fairly of
good ashlar: its door was shut, and on the jamb thereof hung a
slug-horn.  The damsel, who seemed to know what to do, set
her mouth to the horn, and blew a blast; and in a little while
the door was opened, and a big man clad in red scarlet stood
therein: he had no weapons, but was somewhat surly of aspect: he
spake not, but stood abiding the word: so the damsel took it up
and said: “Art thou not the Warden of the Uttermost
House?”

He said: “I am.”

Said the damsel: “May we guest here to-night?”

He said: “The house lieth open to you with all that it
hath of victual and plenishing: take what ye will, and use what
ye will.”

They thanked him; but he heeded not their thanks, and withdrew
him from them.  So they entered and found the table laid in
a fair hall of stone carven and painted very goodly; so they ate
and drank therein, and Hallblithe was of good heart, and the
Sea-eagle and his mate were merry, though they looked softly and
shyly on Hallblithe because of the sundering anigh; and they saw
no man in the house save the man in scarlet, who went and came
about his business, paying no heed to them.  So when the
night was deep they lay down in the shut-bed off the hall, and
slept, and the hours were tidingless to them until they woke in
the morning.

On the morrow they arose and broke their fast, and thereafter
the damsel spake to the man in scarlet and said: “May we
fill our wallets with victual for the way?”

Said the Warden: “There lieth the meat.”

So they filled their wallets, while the man looked on; and
they came to the door when they were ready, and he unlocked it to
them, saying no word.  But when they turned their faces
towards the mountains he spake at last, and stayed them at the
first step.  Quoth he: “Whither away?  Ye take
the wrong road!”

Said Hallblithe: “Nay, for we go toward the mountains
and the edge of the Glittering Plain.”

“Ye shall do ill to go thither,” said the Warden,
“and I bid you forbear.”

“O Warden of the Uttermost House, wherefore should we
forbear?” said the Sea-eagle.

Said the scarlet man: “Because my charge is to further
those who would go inward to the King, and to stay those who
would go outward from the King.”

“How then if we go outward despite thy bidding?”
said the Sea-eagle, “wilt thou then hinder us
perforce?”

“How may I,” said the man, “since thy fellow
hath weapons?”

“Go we forth, then,” said the Sea-eagle.

“Yea,” said the damsel, “we will go
forth.  And know, O Warden, that this weaponed man only is
of mind to fare over the edge of the Glittering Plain; but we
twain shall come back hither again, and fare inwards.”

Said the Warden: “Nought is it to me what ye will do
when you are past this house.  Nor shall any man who goeth
out of this garth toward the mountains ever come back inwards
save he cometh in the company of new-corners to the Glittering
Plain.”

“Who shall hinder him?” said the Sea-eagle.

“The King,” said the
Warden.

Then there was silence awhile, and the man said:

“Now do as ye will.”  And therewith he turned
back into the house and shut the door.

But the Sea-eagle and the damsel stood gazing on one another,
and at Hallblithe; and the damsel was downcast and pale; but the
Sea-eagle cried out:

“Forward now, O Hallblithe, since thou willest it, and
we will go with thee and share whatever may befall thee; yea,
right up to the very edge of the Glittering Plain.  And
thou, O beloved, why dost thou delay?  Why dost thou stand
as if thy fair feet were grown to the grass?”

But the damsel gave a lamentable cry, and cast herself down on
the ground, and knelt before the Sea-eagle, and took him by the
knees, and said betwixt sobbing and weeping: “O my lord and
love, I pray thee to forbear, and the Spearman, our friend, shall
pardon us.  For if thou goest, I shall never see thee more,
since my heart will not serve me to go with thee.  O
forbear!  I pray thee!”

And she grovelled on the earth before him; and the Sea-eagle
waxed red, and would have spoken but Hallblithe cut his speech
across, and said “Friends, be at peace!  For this is
the minute that sunders us.  Get ye back at once to the
heart of the Glittering Plain, and live there and be happy; and
take my blessing and thanks for the love and help that ye have
given me.  For your going forward with me should destroy you
and profit me nothing.  It would be but as the host bringing
his guests one field beyond his garth, when their goal is the
ends of the earth; and if there were a lion in the path, why
should he perish for courtesy’s sake?”

Therewith he stooped down to the damsel, and lifted her up and
kissed her face; and he cast his arms about the Sea-eagle and
said to him: “Farewell, shipmate!”

Then the damsel gave him the wallet of victual, and bade him
farewell, weeping sorely; and he looked kindly on them for a
moment of time, and then turned away from them and fared on
toward the mountains, striding with great strides, holding his
head aloft.  But they looked no more on him, having no will
to eke their sorrow, but went their ways back again without
delay.

CHAPTER XVII: HALLBLITHE AMONGST THE MOUNTAINS

So strode on Hallblithe; but when he had gone but a little way
his head turned, and the earth and heavens wavered before him, so
that he must needs sit down on a stone by the wayside, wondering
what ailed him.  Then he looked up at the mountains, which
now seemed quite near to him at the plain’s ending, and his
weakness increased on him; and lo! as he looked, it was to him as
if the crags rose up in the sky to meet him and overhang him, and
as if the earth heaved up beneath him, and therewith he fell
aback and lost all sense, so that he knew not what was become of
the earth and the heavens and the passing of the minutes of his
life.

When he came to himself he knew not whether he had lain so a
great while or a little; he felt feeble, and for a while he lay
scarce moving, and beholding nought, not even the sky above
him.  Presently he turned about and saw hard stone on either
side, so he rose wearily and stood upon his feet, and knew that
he was faint with hunger and thirst.  Then he looked around
him, and saw that he was in a narrow valley or cleft of the
mountains amidst wan rocks, bare and waterless, where grew no
blade of green; but he could see no further than the sides of
that cleft, and he longed to be out of it that he might see
whitherward to turn.  Then he bethought him of his wallet,
and set his hand to it and opened it, thinking to get victual
thence; but lo! it was all spoilt and wasted.  None the
less, for all his feebleness, he turned and went toiling slowly
along what seemed to be a path little trodden leading upward out
of the cleft; and at last he reached the crest thereof, and sat
him down on a rock on the other side; yet durst not raise his
eyes awhile and look on the land, lest he should see death
manifest therein.  At last he looked, and saw that he was
high up amongst the mountain-peaks: before him and on either hand
was but a world of fallow stone rising ridge upon ridge like the
waves of the wildest of the winter sea.  The sun not far
from its midmost shone down bright and hot on that wilderness;
yet was there no sign that any man had ever been there since the
beginning of the world, save that the path aforesaid seemed to
lead onward down the stony slope.

This way and that way and all about he gazed, straining his
eyes if perchance he might see any diversity in the stony waste;
and at last betwixt two peaks of the rock-wall on his left hand
he descried a streak of green mingling with the cold blue of the
distance; and he thought in his heart that this was the last he
should see of the Glittering Plain.  Then he spake aloud in
that desert, and said, though there was none to hear: “Now
is my last hour come; and here is Hallblithe of the Raven
perishing, with his deeds undone and his longing unfulfilled, and
his bridal-bed acold for ever.  Long may the House of the
Raven abide and flourish, with many a man and maiden, valiant and
fair and fruitful!  O kindred, cast thy blessing on this man
about to die here, doing none otherwise than ye would have
him!”

He sat there a little while longer, and then he said to
himself: “Death tarries; were it not well that I go to meet
him, even as the cot-carle preventeth the mighty
chieftain?”

Then he arose, and went painfully down the slope, steadying
himself with the shaft of his gleaming spear; but all at once he
stopped; for it seemed to him that he heard voices borne on the
wind that blew up the mountain-side.  But he shook his head
and said: “Now forsooth beginneth the dream which shall
last for ever; nowise am I beguiled by it.”  None the
less he strove the more eagerly with the wind and the way and his
feebleness; yet did the weakness wax on him, so that it was but a
little while ere he faltered and reeled and fell down once more
in a swoon.

When he came to himself again he was no longer alone: a man
was kneeling down by him and holding up his head, while another
before him, as he opened his eyes, put a cup of wine to his
lips.  So Hallblithe drank and was refreshed; and presently
they gave him bread, and he ate, and his heart was strengthened,
and the happiness of life returned to it, and he lay back, and
slept sweetly for a season.

When he awoke from that slumber he found that he had gotten
back much of his strength again, and he sat up and looked around
him, and saw three men sitting anigh, armed and girt with swords,
yet in evil array, and sore travel-worn.  One of these was
very old, with long white hair hanging down; and another, though
he was not so much stricken in years, still looked an old man of
over sixty winters.  The third was a man some forty years
old, but sad and sorry and drooping of aspect.

So when they saw him stirring, they all fixed their eyes upon
him, and the oldest man said: “Welcome to him who erst had
no tidings for us!”  And the second said: “Tell
us now thy tidings.”  But the third, the sorry man,
cried out aloud, saying: “Where is the Land?  Where is
the Land?”

Said Hallblithe: “Meseemeth the land which ye seek is
the land which I seek to flee from.  And now I will not hide
that meseemeth I have seen you before, and that was at Cleveland
by the Sea when the days were happier.”

Then they all three bowed their heads in yea-say, and spake:
“‘Where is the Land?  Where is the
Land?”

Then Hallblithe arose to his feet, and said: “Ye have
healed me of the sickness of death, and I will do what I may to
heal you of your sickness of sorrow.  Come up the pass with
me, and I will show you the land afar off.”

Then they arose like young and brisk men, and he led them over
the brow of the ridge into the little valley wherein he had first
come to himself: there he showed them that glimpse of a green
land betwixt the two peaks, which he had beheld e’en now;
and they stood a while looking at it and weeping for joy.

Then spake the oldest of the seekers: “Show us the way
to the land.”

“Nay,” said Hallblithe, “I may not; for when
I would depart thence, I might not go by mine own will, but was
borne out hither, I wot not how.  For when I came to the
edge of the land against the will of the King, he smote me, and
then cast me out.  Therefore since I may not help you, find
ye the land for yourselves, and let me go blessing you, and come
out of this desert by the way whereby ye entered it.  For I
have an errand in the world.”

Spake the youngest of the seekers: “Now art thou become
the yoke-fellow of Sorrow, and thou must wend, not whither thou
wouldst, but whither she will: and she would have thee go forward
toward life, not backward toward death.”

Said the midmost seeker: “If we let thee go further into
the wilderness thou shalt surely die: for hence to the peopled
parts, and the City of Merchants, whence we come, is a
month’s journey: and there is neither meat nor drink, nor
beast nor bird, nor any green thing all that way; and since we
have found thee famishing, we may well deem that thou hast no
victual.  As to us we have but little; so that if it be much
more than three days’ journey to the Glittering Plain, we
may well starve and die within sight of the Acre of the
Undying.  Nevertheless that little will we share with thee
if thou wilt help us to find that good land; so that thou mayst
yet put away Sorrow, and take Joy again to thy board and
bed.”

Hallblithe hung his head and answered nought; for he was
confused by the meshes of ill-hap, and his soul grew sick with
the bitterness of death.  But the sad man spake again and
said: “Thou hast an errand sayest thou? is it such as a
dead man may do?”

Hallblithe pondered, and amidst the anguish of his despair was
borne in on him a vision of the sea-waves lapping the side of a
black ship, and a man therein: who but himself, set free to do
his errand, and his heart was quickened within him, and he said:
“I thank you, and I will wend back with you, since there is
no road for me save back again into the trap.”

The three seekers seemed glad thereat, and the second one
said: “Though death is pursuing, and life lieth ahead, yet
will we not hasten thee unduly.  Time was when I was Captain
of the Host, and learned how battles were lost by lack of
rest.  Therefore have thy sleep now, that thou mayst wax in
strength for our helping.”

Said Hallblithe: “I need not rest; I may not rest; I
will not rest.”

Said the sad man: “It is lawful for thee to rest. 
So say I, who was once a master of law.”

Said the long-hoary elder: “And I command thee to rest;
I who was once the king of a mighty folk.”

In sooth Hallblithe was now exceeding weary; so he laid him
down and slept sweetly in the stony wilderness amidst those three
seekers, the old, the sad, and the very old.

When he awoke he felt well and strong again, and he leapt to
his feet and looked about him, and saw the three seekers
stirring, and he deemed by the sun that it was early
morning.  The sad man brought forth bread and water and
wine, and they broke their fast; and when they had done he spake
and said: “Abideth now in wallet and bottle but one more
full meal for us, and then no more save a few crumbs and a drop
or two of wine if we husband it well.”

Said the second elder: “Get we to the road, then, and
make haste.  I have been seeking, and meseemeth, though the
way be long, it is not utterly blind for us.  Or look thou,
Raven-son, is there not a path yonder that leadeth onward up to
the brow of the ghyll again? and as I have seen, it leadeth on
again down from the said brow.”

Forsooth there was a track that led through the stony tangle
of the wilderness; so they took to the road with a good heart,
and went all day, and saw no living thing, and not a blade of
grass or a trickle of water: nought save the wan rocks under the
sun; and though they trusted in their road that it led them
aright, they saw no other glimpse of the Glittering Plain,
because there rose a great ridge like a wall on the north side,
and they went as it were down along a trench of the rocks, albeit
it was whiles broken across by ghylls, and knolls, and reefs.

So at sunset they rested and ate their victual, for they were
very weary; and thereafter they lay down, and slept as soundly as
if they were in the best of the halls of men.  On the morrow
betimes they arose soberly and went their ways with few words,
and, as they deemed, the path still led them onward.  And
now the great ridge on the north rose steeper and steeper, and
their crossing it seemed not to be thought of; but their
half-blind track failed them not.  They rested at even, and
ate and drank what little they had left, save a mouthful or two
of wine, and then went on again by the light of the moon, which
was so bright that they still saw their way.  And it
happened to Hallblithe, as mostly it does with men very
travel-worn, that he went on and on scarce remembering where he
was, or who his fellows were, or that he had any fellows.

So at midnight they lay down in the wilderness again, hungry
and weary.  They rose at dawn and went forward with waning
hope: for now the mountain ridge on the north was close to their
path, rising up along a sheer wall of pale stone over which
nothing might go save the fowl flying; so that at first on that
morning they looked for nothing save to lay their bones in that
grievous desert where no man should find them.

But, as beset with famine, they fared on heavily down the
narrow track, there came a hoarse cry from Hallblithe’s dry
throat and it was as if his cry had been answered by another like
to his; and the seekers turned and beheld him pointing to the
cliff-side, and lo! half-way up the pale sun-litten crag stood
two ravens in a cranny of the stone, flapping their wings and
croaking, with thrusting forth and twisting of their heads; and
presently they came floating on the thin pure air high up over
the heads of the wayfarers, croaking for the pleasure of the
meeting, as though they laughed thereat.

Then rose the heart of Hallblithe, and he smote his palms
together, and fell to singing an old song of his people, amidst
the rocks whereas few men had sung aforetime.

Whence are ye and whither, O fowl of our
fathers?

What field have ye looked on, what acres unshorn?

What land have ye left where the battle-folk gathers,

And the war-helms are white o’er the paths of the corn?

What tale do ye bear of the people uncraven,

Where amidst the long hall-shadow sparkle the spears;

Where aloft on the hall-ridge now flappeth the raven,

And singeth the song of the nourishing years?

There gather the lads in the first of the morning,

While white lies the battle-day’s dew on the grass,

And the kind steeds trot up to the horn’s voice of
warning,

And the winds wake and whine in the dusk of the pass.

O fowl of our fathers, why now are ye resting?

Come over the mountains and look on the foe.

Full fair after fight won shall yet be your nesting;

And your fledglings the sons of the kindred shall know.

Therewith he strode with his head upraised, and above him flew
the ravens, croaking as if they answered his song in friendly
fashion.

It was but a little after this that the path turned aside
sharp toward the cliffs, and the seekers were abashed thereof,
till Hallblithe running forward beheld a great cavern in the face
of the cliff at the path’s ending: so he turned and cried
on his fellows, and they hastened up, and presently stood before
that cavern’s mouth with doubt and joy mingled in their
minds; for now, mayhappen, they had reached the gate of the
Glittering Plain, or mayhappen the gate of death.

The sad man hung his head and spake: “Doth not some new
trap abide us?  What do we here? is this aught save
death?”

Spake the Elder of Elders: “Was not death on either hand
e’en now, even as treason besetteth the king upon his
throne?”

And the second said: “Yea, we were as the host which
hath no road save through the multitude of foe-men.”

But Hallblithe laughed and said: “Why do ye hang back,
then?  As for me, if death be here, soon is mine errand
sped.”  Therewith he led the way into the dark of the
cave, and the ravens hung about the crag overhead croaking, as
the men left the light.

So was their way swallowed up in the cavern, and day and its
time became nought to them; they went on and on, and became
exceeding faint and weary, but rested not, for death was behind
them.  Whiles they deemed they heard waters running, and
whiles the singing of fowl; and to Hallblithe it seemed that he
heard his name called, so that he shouted back in answer; but all
was still when the sound of his voice had died out.

At last, when they were pressing on again after a short while
of resting, Hallblithe cried out that the cave was lightening: so
they hastened onward, and the light grew till they could dimly
see each other, and dimly they beheld the cave that it was both
wide and high.  Yet a little further, and their faces showed
white to one another, and they could see the crannies of the
rocks, and the bats hanging garlanded from the roof.  So
then they came to where the day streamed down bright on them from
a break overhead, and lo! the sky and green leaves waving against
it.

To those way-worn men it seemed hard to clamber out that way,
and especially to the elders: so they went on a little further to
see if there were aught better abiding them, but when they found
the daylight failing them again, they turned back to the place of
the break in the roof, lest they should waste their strength and
perish in the bowels of the mountain.  So with much ado they
hove up Hallblithe till he got him first on to a ledge of the
rocky wall, and so, what by strength, what by cunning, into the
daylight through the rent in the roof.  So when he was
without he made a rope of his girdle and strips from his raiment,
for he was ever a deft craftsman, and made a shift to heave up
therewith the sad man, who was light and lithe of body; and then
the two together dealt with the elders one after another, till
they were all four on the face of the earth again.

The place whereto they had gotten was the side of a huge
mountain, stony and steep, but set about with bushes, which
seemed full fair to those wanderers amongst the rocks.  This
mountain-slope went down towards a fair green plain, which
Hallblithe made no doubt was the outlying waste of the Glittering
Plain: nay, he deemed that he could see afar off thereon the
white walls of the Uttermost House.  So much he told the
seekers in few words; and then while they grovelled on the earth
and wept for pure joy, whereas the sun was down and it was
beginning to grow dusk, he went and looked around soberly to see
if he might find water and any kind of victual; and presently a
little down the hillside he came upon a place where a spring came
gushing up out of the earth and ran down toward the plain; and
about it was green grass growing plentifully, and a little
thicket of bramble and wilding fruit-trees.  So he drank of
the water, and plucked him a few wilding apples somewhat better
than crabs, and then went up the hill again and fetched the
seekers to that mountain hostelry; and while they drank of the
stream he plucked them apples and bramble-berries.  For
indeed they were as men out of their wits, and were dazed by the
extremity of their jog, and as men long shut up in prison, to
whom the world of men-folk hath become strange.  Simple as
the victual was, they were somewhat strengthened by it and by the
plentiful water, and as night was now upon them, it was of no
avail for them to go further: so they slept beneath the boughs of
the thorn-bushes.

CHAPTER XVIII: HALLBLITHE DWELLETH IN THE WOOD ALONE

But on the morrow they arose betimes, and broke their fast on
that woodland victual, and then went speedily down the
mountain-side; and Hallblithe saw by the clear morning light that
it was indeed the Uttermost House which he had seen across the
green waste.  So he told the seekers; but they were silent
and heeded nought, because of a fear that had come upon them,
lest they should die before they came into that good land. 
At the foot of the mountain they came upon a river, deep but not
wide, with low grassy banks, and Hallblithe, who was an exceeding
strong swimmer, helped the seekers over without much ado; and
there they stood upon the grass of that goodly waste.

Hallblithe looked on them to note if any change should come
over them, and he deemed that already they were become stronger
and of more avail.  But he spake nought thereof, and strode
on toward the Uttermost House, even as that other day he had
stridden away from it.

Such diligence they made, that it was but little after noon
when they came to the door thereof.  Then Hallblithe took
the horn and blew upon it, while his fellows stood by murmuring,
“It is the Land!  It is the Land!”

So came the Warden to the door, clad in red scarlet, and the
elder went up to him and said: “Is this the
Land?”

“What land?” said the Warden.

“Is it the Glittering Plain?” said the second of
the seekers.

“Yea, forsooth,” said the Warden.  Said the
sad man: “Will ye lead us to the King?

“Ye shall come to the King,” said the Warden.

“When, oh when?” cried they out all three.

“The morrow of to-morrow, maybe,” said the
Warden.

“Oh! if to-morrow were but come!” they cried.

“It will come,” said the red man; “enter ye
the house, and eat and drink and rest you.”

So they entered, and the Warden heeded Hallblithe
nothing.  They ate and drank and then went to their rest,
and Hallblithe lay in a shut-bed off from the hall, but the
Warden brought the seekers otherwhere, so that Hallblithe saw
them not after he had gone to bed; but as for him he slept and
forgot that aught was.

In the morning when he awoke he felt very strong and
well-liking; and he beheld his limbs that they were clear of skin
and sleek and fair; and he heard one hard by in the hall
carolling and singing joyously.  So he sprang from his bed
with the wonder of sleep yet in him, and drew the curtains of the
shut-bed and looked forth into the hall; and lo on the high-seat
a man of thirty winters by seeming, tall, fair of fashion, with
golden hair and eyes as grey as glass, proud and noble of aspect;
and anigh him sat another man of like age to look on, a man
strong and burly, with short curling brown hair and a red beard,
and ruddy countenance, and the mien of a warrior.  Also, up
and down the hall, paced a man younger of aspect than these two,
tall and slender, black-haired and dark-eyed, amorous of
countenance; he it was who was singing a snatch of song as he
went lightly on the hall pavement: a snatch like to this

Fair is the world, now autumn’s wearing,

And the sluggard sun lies long abed;

Sweet are the days, now winter’s nearing,

And all winds feign that the wind is dead.

Dumb is the hedge where the crabs hang yellow,

Bright as the blossoms of the spring;

Dumb is the close where the pears grow mellow,

And none but the dauntless redbreasts sing.

Fair was the spring, but amidst his greening

Grey were the days of the hidden sun;

Fair was the summer, but overweening,

So soon his o’er-sweet days were done.

Come then, love, for peace is upon us,

Far off is failing, and far is fear,

Here where the rest in the end hath won us,

In the garnering tide of the happy year.

Come from the grey old house by the water,

Where, far from the lips of the hungry sea,

Green groweth the grass o’er the field of the slaughter,

And all is a tale for thee and me.

So Hallblithe did on his raiment and went into the hall; and
when those three saw him they smiled upon him kindly and greeted
him; and the noble man at the board said: “Thanks have
thou, O Warrior of the Raven, for thy help in our need: thy
reward from us shall not be lacking.”

Then the brown-haired man came up to him, and clapped him on
the back and said to him: “Brisk man of the Raven, good is
thy help at need; even so shall be mine to thee
henceforward.”

But the young man stepped up to him lightly, and cast his arms
about him, and kissed him, and said: “O friend and fellow,
who knoweth but I may one day help thee as thou hast holpen me?
though thou art one who by seeming mayst well help thyself. 
And now mayst thou be as merry as I am to-day!”

Then they all three cried out joyously: “It is the
Land!  It is the Land!”

So Hallblithe knew that these men were the two elders and the
sad man of yesterday, and that they had renewed their youth.

Joyously now did those men break their fast: nor did
Hallblithe make any grim countenance, for he thought: “That
which these dotards and drivellers have been mighty enough to
find, shall I not be mighty enough to flee from?” 
Breakfast done, the seekers made little delay, so eager as they
were to behold the King, and to have handsel of their new sweet
life.  So they got them ready to depart, and the
once-captain said: “Art thou able to lead us to the King, O
Raven-son, or must we seek another man to do so much for
us?”

Said Hallblithe: “I am able to lead you so nigh unto
Wood-end (where, as I deem, the King abideth) that ye shall not
miss him.”

Therewith they went to the door, and the Warden unlocked to
them, and spake no word to them when they departed, though they
thanked him kindly for the guesting.

When they were without the garth, the young man fell to
running about the meadow plucking great handfuls of the rich
flowers that grew about, singing and carolling the while. 
But he who had been king looked up and down and round about, and
said at last: “Where be the horses and the men?”

But his fellow with the red beard said: “Raven-son, in
this land when they journey, what do they as to riding or going
afoot?”

Said Hallblithe: “Fair fellows, ye shall wot that in
this land folk go afoot for the most part, both men and women;
whereas they weary but little, and are in no haste.”

Then the once-captain clapped the once-king on the shoulder,
and said: “Hearken, lord, and delay no longer, but gird up
thy gown, since here is no mare’s son to help thee: for
fair is to-day that lies before us, with many a new fair day
beyond it.”

So Hallblithe led the way inward, thinking of many things, yet
but little of his fellows.  Albeit they, and the younger man
especially, were of many words; for this black-haired man had
many questions to ask, chiefly concerning the women, what they
were like to look on, and of what mood they were. 
Hallblithe answered thereto as long as he might, but at last he
laughed and said: “Friend, forbear thy questions now; for
meseemeth in a few hours thou shalt be as wise hereon as is the
God of Love himself.”

So they made diligence along the road, and all was tidingless
till on the second day at even they came to the first house off
the waste.  There had they good welcome, and slept. 
But on the morrow when they arose, Hallblithe spake to the
Seekers, and said: “Now are things much changed betwixt us
since the time when we first met: for then I had all my desire,
as I thought, and ye had but one desire, and well nigh lacked
hope of its fulfilment.  Whereas now the lack hath left you
and come to me.  Wherefore even as time agone ye might not
abide even one night at the House of the Raven, so hard as your
desire lay on you; even so it fareth with me to-day, that I am
consumed with my desire, and I may not abide with you; lest that
befall which befalleth betwixt the full man and the
fasting.  Wherefore now I bless you and depart.”

They abounded in words of good-will to him, and the once-king
said: “Abide with us, and we shall see to it that thou have
all the dignities that a man may think of.”

And the once-captain said: “Lo, here is mine hand that
hath been mighty; never shalt thou lack it for the accomplishment
of thine uttermost desire.  Abide with us.”

Lastly said the young man: “Abide with us, Son of the
Raven!  Set thine heart on a fair woman, yea even were it
the fairest; and I will get her for thee, even were my desire set
on her.”

But he smiled on them, and shook his head, and said:
“All hail to you! but mine errand is yet
undone.”  And therewith he departed.

He skirted Wood-end and came not to it, but got him down to
the side of the sea, not far from where he first came aland, but
somewhat south of it.  A fair oak-wood came down close to
the beach of the sea; it was some four miles end-long and
over-thwart.  Thither Hallblithe betook him, and in a day or
two got him wood-wright’s tools from a house of men a
little outside the wood, three miles from the sea-shore. 
Then he set to work and built him a little frame-house on a lawn
of the wood beside a clear stream; for he was a very deft
wood-wright.  Withal he made him a bow and arrows, and shot
what he would of the fowl and the deer for his livelihood; and
folk from that house and otherwhence came to see him, and brought
him bread and wine and spicery and other matters which he
needed.  And the days wore, and men got used to him, and
loved him as if he had been a rare image which had been brought
to that land for its adornment; and now they no longer called him
the Spearman, but the Wood-lover.  And as for him, he took
all in patience, abiding what the lapse of days should bring
forth.

CHAPTER XIX: HALLBLITHE BUILDS HIM A SKIFF

After Hallblithe had been housed a little while, and the time
was again drawing nigh to the twelfth moon since he had come to
the Glittering Plain, he went in the wood one day; and, pondering
many things without fixing on any one, he stood before a very
great oak-tree and looked at the tall straight bole thereof, and
there came into his head the words of an old song which was
written round a scroll of the carving over the shut-bed, wherein
he was wont to lie when he was at home in the House of the Raven:
and thus it said:

I am the oak-tree, and forsooth

Men deal by me with little ruth;

My boughs they shred, my life they slay,

And speed me o’er the watery way.

He looked up into that leafy world for a little and then
turned back toward his house; but all day long, whether he were
at work or at rest, that posy ran in his head, and he kept on
saying it over, aloud or not aloud, till the day was done and he
went to sleep.

Then in his sleep he dreamed that an exceeding fair woman
stood by his bedside, and at first she seemed to him to be an
image of the Hostage.  But presently her face changed, and
her body and her raiment; and, lo! it was the lovely woman, the
King’s daughter whom he had seen wasting her heart for the
love of him.  Then even in his dream shame thereof overtook
him, and because of that shame he awoke, and lay awake a little,
hearkening the wind going through the woodland boughs, and the
singing of the owl who had her dwelling in the hollow oak nigh to
his house.  Slumber overcame him in a little while, and
again the image of the King’s daughter came to him in his
dream, and again when he looked upon her, shame and pity rose so
hotly in his heart that he awoke weeping, and lay a while
hearkening to the noises of the night.  The third time he
slept and dreamed; and once more that image came to him. 
And now he looked, and saw that she had in her hand a book
covered outside with gold and gems, even as he saw it in the
orchard-close aforetime: and he beheld her face that it was no
longer the face of one sick with sorrow; but glad and clear, and
most beauteous.

Now she opened the book and held it before Hallblithe and
turned the leaves so that he might see them clearly; and therein
were woods and castles painted, and burning mountains, and the
wall of the world, and kings upon their thrones, and fair women
and warriors, all most lovely to behold, even as he had seen it
aforetime in the orchard when he lay lurking amidst the leaves of
the bay-tree.

So at last she came to the place in the book wherein was
painted Hallblithe’s own image over against the image of
the Hostage; and he looked thereon and longed.  But she
turned the leaf, and, lo! on one side the Hostage again, standing
in a fair garden of the spring with the lilies all about her
feet, and behind her the walls of a house, grey, ancient, and
lovely: and on the other leaf over against her was painted a sea
rippled by a little wind and a boat thereon sailing swiftly, and
one man alone in the boat sitting and steering with a cheerful
countenance; and he, who but Hallblithe himself.  Hallblithe
looked thereon for a while and then the King’s daughter
shut the book, and the dream flowed into other imaginings of no
import.

In the grey dawn Hallblithe awoke, and called to mind his
dream, and he leapt from his bed and washed the night from off
him in the stream, and clad himself and went the shortest way
through the wood to that House of folk aforesaid: and as he went
his face was bright and he sang the second part of the carven
posy; to wit:

Along the grass I lie forlorn

That when a while of time is worn,

I may be filled with war and peace

And bridge the sundering of the seas.

He came out of the wood and hastened over the flowery meads of
the Glittering Plain, and came to that same house when it was yet
very early.  At the door he came across a damsel bearing
water from the well, and she spake to him and said:
“Welcome, Wood-lover!  Seldom art thou seen in our
garth; and that is a pity of thee.  And now I look on thy
face I see that gladness hath come into thine heart, and that
thou art most fair and lovely.  Here then is a token for
thee of the increase of gladness.”  Therewith she set
her buckets on the earth, and stood before him, and took him by
the ears, and drew down his face to hers and kissed him
sweetly.  He smiled on her and said: “I thank thee,
sister, for the kiss and the greeting; but I come here having a
lack.”

“Tell us,” she said, “that we may do thee a
pleasure.”

He said: “I would ask the folk to give me timber, both
beams and battens and boards; for if I hew in the wood it will
take long to season.”

“All this is free for thee to take from our wood-store
when thou hast broken thy fast with us,” said the
damsel.  “Come thou in and rest thee.”

She took him by the hand and they went in together, and she
gave him to eat and drink, and went up and down the house, saying
to every one: “Here is come the Wood-lover, and he is glad
again; come and see him.”

So the folk gathered about him, and made much of him. 
And when they had made an end of breakfast, the head man of the
House said to him: “The beasts are in the wain, and the
timber abideth thy choosing; come and see.”

So he brought Hallblithe to the timber-bower, where he chose
for himself all that he needed of oak-timber of the best; and
they loaded the wain therewith, and gave him what he would
moreover of nails and treenails and other matters; and he thanked
them; and they said to him: “Whither now shall we lead thy
timber?”

“Down to the sea-side,” quoth he, “nighest
to my dwelling.”

So did they, and more than a score, men and women, went with
him, some in the wain, and some afoot.  Thus they came down
to the sea-shore, and laid the timber on the strand just above
high-water mark; and straightway Hallblithe fell to work shaping
him a boat, for well he knew the whole craft thereof; and the
folk looked on wondering, till the tide had ebbed the little it
was wont to ebb, and left the moist sand firm and smooth; then
the women left watching Hallblithe’s work, and fell to
paddling barefoot in the clear water, for there was scarce a
ripple on the sea; and the carles came and played with them so
that Hallblithe was left alone a while; for this kind of play was
new to that folk, since they seldom came down to the
sea-side.  Thereafter they needs must dance together, and
would have had Hallblithe dance with them; and when he naysaid
them because he was fain of his work, in all playfulness they
fell to taking the adze out of his hand, whereat he became
somewhat wroth, and they were afraid and went and had their dance
out without him.

By this time the sun was grown very hot, and they came to him
again, and lay down about him and watched his work, for they were
weary.  And one of the women, still panting with the dance,
spake as she looked on the loveliness of her limbs, which one of
the swains was caressing: “Brother,” said she,
“great strokes thou smitest; when wilt thou have smitten
the last of them, and come to our house again?”

“Not for many days, fair sister,” said he, without
looking up.

“Alas that thou shouldst talk so,” said a carle,
rising up from the warm sand; “what shall all thy toil win
thee?”

Spake Hallblithe: “Maybe a merry heart, or maybe
death.”

At that word they all rose up together, and stood huddled
together like sheep that have been driven to the croft-gate, and
the shepherd hath left them for a little and they know not
whither to go.  Little by little they got them to the wain
and harnessed their beasts thereto, and departed silently by the
way that they had come; but in a little time Hallblithe heard
their laughter and merry speech across the flowery meadows. 
He heeded their departure little, but went on working, and worked
the sun down, and on till the stars began to twinkle.  Then
he went home to his house in the wood, and slept and dreamed not,
and began again on the morrow with a good heart.

To be short, no day passed that he wrought not his full tale
of work, and the days wore, and his ship-wright’s work
throve.  Often the folk of that house, and from otherwhere
round about, came down to the strand to watch him working. 
Nowise did they wilfully hinder him, but whiles when they could
get no talk from him, they would speak of him to each other,
wondering that he should so toil to sail upon the sea; for they
loved the sea but little, and it soon became clear to them that
he was looking to nought else: though it may not be said that
they deemed he would leave the land for ever.  On the other
hand, if they hindered him not, neither did they help, saving
when he prayed them for somewhat which he needed, which they
would then give him blithely.

Of the Sea-eagle and his damsel, Hallblithe saw nought;
whereat he was well content, for he deemed it of no avail to make
a second sundering of it.

So he worked and kept his heart up, and at last all was ready;
he had made him a mast and a sail, and oars, and whatso-other
gear there was need of.  So then he thrust his skiff into
the sea on an evening whenas there were but two carles standing
by; for there would often be a score or two of folk.  These
two smiled on him and bespake him kindly, but would not help him
when he bade them set shoulder to her bows and shove. 
Albeit he got the skiff into the water without much ado, and got
into her, and brought her to where a stream running from out of
his wood made a little haven for her up from the sea.  There
he tied her to a tree-hole, and busied himself that even with
getting the gear into her, and victual and water withal, as much
as he deemed he should need: and so, being weary, he went to his
house to sleep, thinking that he should awake in the grey of the
morning and thrust out into the deep sea.  And he was the
more content to abide, because on that eve, as oftenest betid,
the wind blew landward from the sea, whereas in the morning it
oftenest blew seaward from the land.  In any case he thought
to be astir so timely that he should come alone to his keel, and
depart with no leave-takings.  But, as it fell out, he
overslept himself, so that when he came out into the wood clad in
all his armour, with his sword girt to his side, and his spear
over his shoulder, he heard the voices of folk, and presently
found so many gathered about his boat that he had some ado to get
aboard.

The folk had brought many gifts for him of such things as they
deemed he might need for a short voyage, as fruit and wine, and
woollen cloths to keep the cold night from him; he thanked them
kindly as he stepped over the gunwale, and some of the women
kissed him: and one said (she it was, who had met him at the
stead that morning when he went to fetch timber): “Thou
wilt be back this even, wilt thou not, brother?  It is yet
but early, and thou shalt have time enough to take all thy
pleasure on the sea, and then come back to us to eat thy meat in
our house at nightfall.”

She spake, knitting her brows in longing for his return; but
he knew that all those deemed he would come back again soon; else
had they deemed him a rebel of the King, and might, as he
thought, have stayed him.  So he changed not countenance in
any wise, but said only: “farewell, sister, for this day,
and farewell to all you till I come back.”

Therewith he unmoored his boat, and sat down and took the
oars, and rowed till he was out of the little haven, and on the
green sea, and the keel rose and fell on the waves.  Then he
stepped the mast and hoisted sail, and sheeted home, for the
morning wind was blowing gently from the mountains over the
meadows of the Glittering Plain, so the sail filled, and the keel
leapt forward and sped over the face of the cold sea.  And
it is to be said that whether he wotted or not, it was the very
day twelve months since he had come to that shore along with the
Sea-eagle.  So that folk stood and watched the skiff growing
less and less upon the deep till they could scarce see her. 
Then they turned about and went into the wood to disport them,
for the sun was growing hot.  Nevertheless, there were some
of them (and that damsel was one), who came back to the sea-shore
from time to time all day long; and even when the sun was down
they looked seaward under the rising moon, expecting to see
Hallblithe’s bark come into the shining path which she drew
across the waters round about the Glittering Land.

CHAPTER XX: SO NOW SAILETH HALLBLITHE AWAY FROM THE
GLITTERING PLAIN

But as to Hallblithe, he soon lost sight of the Glittering
Plain and the mountains thereof, and there was nought but sea all
round about him, and his heart swelled with joy as he sniffed the
brine and watched the gleaming hills and valleys of the restless
deep; and he said to himself that he was going home to his
Kindred and the Roof of his Fathers of old time.

He stood as near due north as he might; but as the day wore,
the wind headed him, and he deemed it not well to beat, lest he
should make his voyage overlong; so he ran on with the wind
abeam, and his little craft leapt merrily over the sea-hills
under the freshening breeze.  The sun set and the moon and
stars shone out, and he still sailed on, and durst not sleep,
save as a dog does, with one eye.  At last came dawn, and as
the light grew it was a fair day with a falling wind, and a
bright sky, but it clouded over before sunset, and the wind
freshened from the north by east, and, would he, would he not,
Hallblithe must run before it night-long, till at sunrise it fell
again, and all day was too light for him to make much way beating
to northward; nor did it freshen till after the moon was risen
some while after sunset.  And now he was so weary that he
must needs sleep; so he lashed the helm, and took a reef in the
sail, and ran before the wind, he sleeping in the stern.

But past the middle of the night, towards the dawning, he
awoke with the sound of a great shout in his ears.  So he
looked over the dark waters, and saw nought, for the night was
cloudy again.  Then he trimmed his craft, and went to sleep
again, for he was over-burdened with slumber.

When he awoke it was broad daylight; so he looked to the
tiller and got the boat’s head a little up to the wind, and
then gazed about him with the sleep still in his eyes.  And
as his eyes took in the picture before him he could not refrain a
cry; for lo! there arose up great and grim right ahead the black
cliffs of the Isle of Ransom.  Straightway he got to the
sheet, and strove to wear the boat; but for all that he could do
she drifted toward the land, for she was gotten into a strong
current of the sea that set shoreward.  So he struck sail,
and took the oars and rowed mightily so that he might bear her
off shore; but it availed nothing, and still he drifted
landward.  So he stood up from the oars, and turned about
and looked, and saw that he was but some three furlongs from the
shore, and that he was come to the very haven-mouth whence he had
set sail with the Sea-eagle a twelvemonth ago: and he knew that
into that haven he needs must get him, or be dashed to pieces
against the high cliffs of the land: and he saw how the waves ran
on to the cliffs, and whiles one higher than the others smote the
rock-wall and ran up it, as if it could climb over on to the
grassy lip beyond, and then fell back again, leaving a river of
brine running down the steep.

Then he said that he would take what might befall him inside
the haven.  So he hoisted sail again, and took the tiller,
and steered right for the midmost of the gate between the rocks,
wondering what should await him there.  Then it was but a
few minutes ere his bark shot into the smoothness of the haven,
and presently began to lose way; for all the wind was dead within
that land-locked water.  Hallblithe looked steadily round
about seeking his foe; but the haven was empty of ship or boat;
so he ran his eye along the shore to see where he should best lay
his keel and as aforesaid there was no beach there, and the water
was deep right up to the grassy lip of the land; though the tides
ran somewhat high, and at low water would a little steep
undercliff go up from the face of the sea.  But now it was
near the top of the tide, and there was scarce two feet betwixt
the grass and the dark-green sea.

Now Hallblithe steered toward an ingle of the haven; and
beyond it, a little way off, rose a reef of rocks out of the
green grass, and thereby was a flock of sheep feeding, and a big
man lying down amongst them, who seemed to be unarmed, as
Hallblithe could not see any glint of steel about him. 
Hallblithe drew nigh the shore, and the big man stirred not; nor
did he any the more when the keel ran along the shore, and
Hallblithe leapt out and moored his craft to his spear stuck deep
in the earth.  And now Hallblithe deems that the man must be
either dead or asleep: so he drew his sword and had it in his
right hand, and in his left a sharp knife, and went straight up
to the man betwixt the sheep, and found him so lying on his side
that he could not see his face; so he stirred him with his foot,
and cried out: “Awake, O Shepherd! for dawn is long past
and day is come, and therewithal a guest for thee!”

The man turned over and slowly sat up, and, lo! who should it
be but the Puny Fox?  Hallblithe started back at the sight
of him, and cried out at him, and said: “Have I found thee,
O mine enemy?”

The Puny Fox sat up a little straighter, and rubbed his eyes
and said: “Yea, thou hast found me sure enough.  But
as to my being thine enemy, a word or two may be said about that
presently.”

“What!” said Hallblithe, “dost thou deem
that aught save my sword will speak to thee?”

“I wot not,” said the Puny Fox, slowly rising to
his feet, “but I suppose thou wilt not slay me unarmed, and
thou seest that I have no weapons.”

“Get thee weapons, then,” quoth Hallblithe,
“and delay not; for the sight of thee alive sickens
me.”

“Ill is that,” said the Puny Fox, “but come
thou with me at once, where I shall find both the weapons and a
good fighting-stead.  Hasten! time presseth, now thou art
come at last.”

“And my boat?” said Hallblithe.

“Wilt thou carry her in thy pouch?” said the Puny
Fox; “thou wilt not need her again, whether thou slay me,
or I thee.”

Hallblithe knit his brows on him in his wrath; for he deemed
that Fox’s meaning was to threaten him with the vengeance
of the kindred.  Howbeit, he said nought; for he deemed it
ill to wrangle in words with one whom he was presently to meet in
battle; so he followed as the Puny Fox led.  Fox brought him
past the reef of rock aforesaid, and up a narrow cleft of the
cliffs overlooking the sea, whereby they came into a little
grass-grown meadow well nigh round in shape, as smooth and level
as a hall-floor, and fenced about by a wall of rock: a place
which had once been the mouth of an earth-fire, and a cauldron of
molten stone.

When they stood on the smooth grass Fox said: “Hold thee
there a little, while I go to my weapon-chest, and then shall we
see what is to be done.”

Therewith he turned aside to a cranny of the rock, and going
down on his hands and knees, fell to creeping like a worm up a
hole therein, which belike led to a cavern; for after his voice
had come forth from the earth, grunting and groaning, and cursing
this thing, and that, out he comes again feet first, and casts
down an old rusty sword without a sheath; a helm no less rusty,
and battered withal, and a round target, curled up and outworn as
if it would fall to pieces of itself.  Then he stands up and
stretches himself, and smiles pleasantly on Hallblithe and says:
“Now, mine enemy, when I have donned helm and shield and
got my sword in hand, we may begin the play: as to a hauberk I
must needs go lack; for I could not come by it; I think the old
man must have chaffered it away: he was ever too
money-fain.”

But Hallblithe looked on him angrily and said: “Hast
thou brought me hither to mock me?  Hast thou no better
weapons wherewith to meet a warrior of the Raven than these rusty
shards, which look as if thou hadst robbed a grave of the
dead?  I will not fight thee so armed.”

“Well,” said the Puny Fox, “and from out of
a grave come they verily: for in that little hole lieth my
father’s grandsire, the great Sea-mew of the Ravagers, the
father of that Sea-eagle whom thou knowest.  But since thou
thinkest scorn of these weapons of a dead warrior, in go the old
carle’s treasures again!  It is as well maybe; since
he might be wrath beyond his wont if he were to wake and miss
them; and already this cold cup of the once-boiling rock is not
wholly safe because of him.”

So he crept into the hole once more, and out of it presently,
and stood smiting his palms one against the other to dust them,
like a man who has been handling parchments long laid by; and
Hallblithe stood looking at him, still wrathful, but silent.

Then said the Puny Fox: “This at least was a wise word
of thine, that thou wouldst not fight me.  For the end of
fighting is slaying; and it is stark folly to fight without
slaying; and now I see that thou desirest not to slay me: for if
thou didst, why didst thou refuse to fall on me armed with the
ghosts of weapons that I borrowed from a ghost?  Nay, why
didst thou not slay me as I crept out of yonder hole?  Thou
wouldst have had a cheap bargain of me either way.  It would
be rank folly to fight me.”

Said Hallblithe hoarsely: “Why didst thou bewray me, and
lie to me, and lure me away from the quest of my beloved, and
waste a whole year of my life?”

“It is a long story,” said the Puny Fox,
“which I may tell thee some day.  Meantime I may tell
thee this, that I was compelled thereto by one far mightier than
I, to wit the Undying King.”

At that word the smouldering wrath blazed up in Hallblithe,
and he drew his sword hastily and hewed at the Puny Fox: but he
leapt aside nimbly and ran in on Hallblithe, and caught his
sword-arm by the wrist, and tore the weapon out of his hand, and
overbore him by sheer weight and stature, and drave him to the
earth.  Then he rose up, and let Hallblithe rise also, and
took his sword and gave it into his hand again and said:
“Crag-nester, thou art wrathful, but little.  Now thou
hast thy sword again and mayst slay me if thou wilt.  Yet
not until I have spoken a word to thee: so hearken! or else by
the Treasure of the Sea I will slay thee with my bare
hands.  For I am strong indeed in this place with my old
kinsman beside me.  Wilt thou hearken?”

“Speak,” said Hallblithe, “I
hearken.”

Said the Puny Fox: “True it is that I lured thee away
from thy quest, and wore away a year of thy life.  Yet true
it is also that I repent me thereof, and ask thy pardon. 
What sayest thou?”

Hallblithe spake not, but the heat died out of his face and he
was become somewhat pale.  Said the Puny Fox: “Dost
thou not remember, O Raven, how thou badest me battle last year
on the sea-shore by the side of the Rollers of the Raven? and how
this was to be the prize of battle, that the vanquished should
serve the vanquisher year-long, and do all his will?  And
now this prize and more thou hast won without battle; for I swear
by the Treasure of the Sea, and by the bones of the great Sea-mew
yonder, that I will serve thee not year-long but life-long, and
that I will help thee in thy quest for thy beloved.  What
sayest thou?”

Hallblithe stood speechless a moment, looking past the Puny
Fox, rather than at him.  Then the sword tumbled out of his
hand on to the grass, and great tears rolled down his cheeks and
fell on to his raiment, and he reached out his hand to the Puny
Fox and said: “O friend, wilt thou not bring me to her? for
the days wear, and the trees are growing old round about the
Acres of the Raven.”

Then the Puny Fox took his hand; and laughed merrily in his
face, and said: “Great is thine heart, O
Carrion-biter!  But now that thou art my friend I will tell
thee that I have a deeming of the whereabouts of thy
beloved.  Or where deemest thou was the garden wherein thou
sawest her standing on the page of the book in that dream of the
night?  So it is, O Raven-son, that it is not for nothing
that my grandsire’s father lieth in yonder hole of the
rocks; for of late he hath made me wise in mighty lore. 
Thanks have thou, O kinsman!”  And he turned him
toward the rock wherein was the grave.

But Hallblithe said: “What is to do now?  Am I not
in a land of foemen?”

“Yea, forsooth,” said the Puny Fox, “and
even if thou knewest where thy love is, thou shouldst hardly
escape from this isle unslain, save for me.”

Said Hallblithe: “Is there not my bark, that I might
depart at once? for I deem not that the Hostage is on the Isle of
Ransom.”

The Puny Fox laughed boisterously and said: “Nay, she is
not.  But as to thy boat, there is so strong a set of the
flood-tide toward this end of the isle, that with the wind
blowing as now, from the north-north-east, thou mayst not get off
the shore for four hours at least, and I misdoubt me that within
that time we shall have tidings of a ship of ours coming into the
haven.  Thy bark they shall take, and thee also if thou art
therein; and then soon were the story told, for they know thee
for a rebel of the Undying King.  Hearken!  Dost thou
not hear the horn’s voice?  Come up hither and we
shall see what is towards.”

So saying, he led hastily up a kind of stair in the rock-wall,
until they reached a cranny, whence through a hole in the cliff,
they could see all over the haven.  And lo! as they looked,
in the very gate and entry of it came a great ship heaving up her
bows on the last swell of the outer sea (where the wind had risen
somewhat), and rolling into the smooth, land-locked water. 
Black was her sail, and the image of the Sea-eagle enwrought
thereon spread wide over it; and the banner of the Flaming Sword
streamed out from the stern.  Many men all-weaponed were on
the decks, and the minstrels high up on the poop were blowing a
merry song of return on their battle-horns.

“Lo, you,” said the Puny Fox, “thy luck or
mine hath served thee this time, in that the Flaming Sword did
not overhaul thee ere thou madest the haven.  We are well
here at least.”

Said Hallblithe: “But may not some of them come up
hither perchance?”

“Nay, nay,” said the Puny Fox; “they fear
the old man in the cleft yonder; for he is not over
guest-fain.  This mead is mine own, as for other living men;
it is my unroofed house, and I have here a house with a roof
also, which I will show thee presently.  For now since the
Flaming Sword hath come, there is no need for haste; nay, we
cannot depart till they have gone up-country.  So I will
show thee presently what we shall do to-night.”

So there they sat and watched those men bring their ship to
the shore and moor her hard by Hallblithe’s boat. 
They cried out when they saw her, and when they were aland they
gathered about her to note her build, and the fashion of the
spear whereto she was tied.  Then in a while the more part
of them, some fourscore in number, departed up the valley toward
the great house and left none but a half dozen ship-warders
behind.

“Seest thou, friend of the Ravens,” said the Fox,
“hadst thou been there, they might have done with thee what
they would.  Did I not well to bring thee into my unroofed
house?”

“Yea, verily,” said Hallblithe; “but will
not some of the ship-wards, or some of the others returning, come
up hither and find us?  I shall yet lay my bones in this
evil island.”

The Puny Fox laughed, and said: “It is not so bad as thy
sour looks would have it; anyhow it is good enough for a grave,
and at this present I may call it a casket of precious
things.”

“What meanest thou?” said Hallblithe eagerly.

“Nay, nay,” said the other, “nought but what
thou knowest.  Art thou not therein, and I myself? without
reckoning the old carle in the hole yonder.  But I promise
thee thou shalt not die here this time, unless thou wilt. 
And as to folk coming up hither, I tell thee again they durst
not; because they fear my great-grandsire over much.  Not
that they are far wrong therein; for now he is dead, the worst of
him seemeth to come out of him, and he is not easily dealt with,
save by one who hath some share of his wisdom.  Thou thyself
couldst see by my kinsman, the Sea-eagle, how much of ill blood
and churlish malice there may be in our kindred when they wax
old, and loneliness and dreariness taketh hold of them.  For
I must tell thee that I have oft heard my father say that his
father the Sea-eagle was in his youth and his prime blithe and
buxom, a great lover of women, and a very friendly fellow. 
But ever, as I say, as the men of our kind wax in years, they
worsen; and thereby mayst thou deem how bad the old man in yonder
must be, since he hath lain so long in the grave.  But now
we will go to that house of mine on the other side of the mead,
over against my kinsman’s.”

Therewith he led Hallblithe down from the rock while
Hallblithe said to him: “What! art thou also dead that thou
hast a grave here?”

“Nay, nay,” said Fox, smiling, “am I so
evil-conditioned then?  I am no older than thou
art.”

“But tell me,” said Hallblithe, “wilt thou
also wax evil as thou growest old?”

“Maybe not,” said Fox, looking hard at him,
“for in my mind it is that I may be taken into another
house, and another kindred, and amongst them I shall be healed of
much that might turn to ill.”

Therewith were they come across the little meadow to a place
where was a cave in the rock closed with a door, and a wicket
window therein.  Fox led Hallblithe into it, and within it
was no ill dwelling; for it was dry and clean, and there were
stools therein and a table, and shelves and lockers in the
wall.  When they had sat them down Fox said: “Here
mightest thou dwell safely as long as thou wouldst, if thou
wouldst risk dealings with the old carle.  But, as I wot
well that thou art in haste to be gone and get home to thy
kindred, I must bring thee at dusk to-day close up to our
feast-hall, so that thou mayst be at hand to do what hath to be
done to-night, so that we may get us gone to-morrow.  Also
thou must do off thy Raven gear lest we meet any in the twilight
as we go up to the house; and here have I to hand home-spun
raiment such as our war-taken thralls wear, which shall serve thy
turn well enough; but this thou needst not do on till the time is
at hand for our departure; and then I will bring thee away, and
bestow thee in a bower hard by the hall; and when thou art
within, I may so look to it that none shall go in there, or if
they do, they shall see nought in thee save a carle known to them
by name.  My kinsman hath learned me to do harder things
than this.  But now it is time to eat and drink.”

Therewith he drew victual from out a locker and they fell
to.  But when they had eaten, Fox taught Hallblithe what he
should do in the hall that night, as shall be told
hereafter.  And then, with much talk about many things, they
wore away the day in that ancient cup of the seething rock, and a
little before dusk set out for the hall, bearing with them
Hallblithe’s gear bundled up together, as though it had
been wares from over sea.  So they came to the house before
the tables were set, and the Puny Fox bestowed Hallblithe in a
bower which gave into the buttery, so that it was easy to go
straight into the mid-most of the hall.  There was
Hallblithe clad and armed in his Raven gear; but Fox gave him a
vizard to go over his face, so that none might know him when he
entered therein.

CHAPTER XXI: OF THE FIGHT OF THE CHAMPIONS IN THE HALL OF THE
RAVAGERS

Now it is to be told that the chieftains came into the hall
that night and sat down at the board on the dais, even as
Hallblithe had seen them do aforetime.  And the chieftain of
all, who was called the Erne of the Sea-eagles, rose up according
to custom and said: “Hearken, folk! this is a night of the
champions, whereon we may not eat till the pale blades have
clashed together, and one hath vanquished and another been
overcome.  Now let them stand forth and give out the prize
of victory which the vanquished shall pay to the
vanquisher.  And let it be known, that, whosoever may be the
champion that winneth the battle, whether he be a kinsman, or an
alien, or a foeman declared; yea, though he have left the head of
my brother at the hall-door, he shall pass this night with us
safe from sword, safe from axe, safe from hand: he shall eat as
we eat, drink as we drink, sleep as we sleep, and depart safe
from any hand or weapon, and shall sail the sea at his pleasure
in his own keel or in ours, as to him and us may be meet. 
Blow up horns for the champions!”

So the horns blew a cheerful strain, and when they were done,
there came into the hall a tall man clad in black, and with black
armour and weapons saving the white blade of his sword.  He
had a vizard over his face, but his hair came down from under his
helm like the tail of a red horse.

So he stood amidst the floor and cried out: “I am the
champion of the Ravagers.  But I swear by the Treasure of
the Sea that I will cross no blade to-night save with an alien, a
foeman of the kindred.  Hearest thou, O chieftain, O Erne of
the Sea-eagles?”

“Hear it I do,” said the chieftain, “and I
deem that thy meaning is that we should go supperless to bed; and
this cometh of thy perversity: for we know thee despite thy
vizard.  Belike thou deemest that thou shalt not be met this
even, and that there is no free alien in the island to draw sword
against thee.  But beware!  For when we came aland this
morning we found a skiff of the aliens tied to a great spear
stuck in the bank of the haven; so that there will be one foeman
at least abroad in the island.  But we said if we should
come on the man, we would set his head on the gable of the hall
with the mouth open toward the North for a token of reproach to
the dwellers in the land over sea.  But now give out the
prize of victory, and I swear by the Treasure of the Sea that we
will abide by thy word.”

Said the champion: “These are the terms and conditions
of the battle; that whichso of us is vanquished, he shall either
die, or serve the vanquisher for twelve moons, to fare with him
at his will, to go his errands, and do according to his
commandment in all wise.  Hearest thou,
chieftain?”

“Yea,” said he, “and by the Undying King,
both thou and we shall abide by this bargain.  So look to it
that thou smite great strokes, lest our hall lack a
gable-knop.  Horns, blow up for the alien
champion!”

So again the horns were winded; and ere their voice had died,
in from the buttery screens came a glittering image of war, and
there stood the alien champion over against the warrior of the
sea; and he too had a vizard over his face.

Now when the folk saw him, and how slim and light and small he
looked beside their champion, and they beheld the Raven painted
on his white shield, they hooted and laughed for scorn of him and
his littleness.  But he tossed his sword up lightly and
caught it by the hilts as it fell, and drew nigher to the
champion of the sea and stood facing him within reach of his
sword.  Then the chieftain on the high-seat put his two
hands to his mouth and roared out: “Fall on, ye champions,
fall on!”

But the folk in the hall were so eager that they stood on the
benches and the boards, and craned over each other’s
shoulders, so that they might lose no whit of the
hand-play.  Now flashed the blades in the candle-lit hall,
and the red-haired champion hove up his sword and smote two great
strokes to right and to left; but the alien gave way before him,
and the folk cried out at him in scorn and in joy of their
champion, who fell to raining down great strokes like the hail
amidst the lightning.  But so deft was the alien, that he
stood amidst it unhurt, and laid many strokes on his foeman, and
did all so lightly and easily, that it seemed as if he were
dancing rather than fighting; and the folk held their peace and
began to doubt if their huge champion would prevail.  Now
the red-haired fetched a mighty stroke at the alien, who leapt
aside lightly and gat his sword in his left hand and dealt a
great stroke on the other’s head, and the red-haired
staggered, for he had over-reached himself; and again the alien
smote him a left-handed stroke so that he fell full length on the
floor with a mighty clatter, and the sword flew out of his hand:
and the folk were dumb-founded.

Then the alien threw himself on the sea-champion, and knelt
upon him, and shortened his sword as if to slay him with a
thrust.  But thereon the man overthrown cried out:
“Hold thine hand, for I am vanquished!  Now give me
peace according to the bargain struck between us, that I shall
serve thee year-long, and follow thee wheresoever thou
goest.”

Therewith the alien champion arose and stood off from him, and
the man of the sea gat to his feet, and did off his helm, so that
all men could see that he was the Puny Fox.

Then the victorious champion unhelmed himself, and lo, it was
Hallblithe!  And a shout arose in the hall, part of wonder,
part of wrath.

Then cried out the Puny Fox: “I call on all men here to
bear witness that by reason of this battle, Hallblithe of the
Ravens is free to come and go as he will in the Isle of Ransom,
and to take help of any man that will help him, and to depart
from the isle when he will and how he will, taking me with him if
so he will.”

Said the chieftain: “Yea, this is right and due, and so
shall it be.  But now, since no freeman, who is not a foe of
the passing hour, may abide in our hall without eating of our
meat, come up here, Hallblithe, and sit by me, and eat and drink
of the best we have, since the Norns would not give us thine head
for a gable-knop.  But what wilt thou do with thy thrall the
Puny Fox; and whereto in the hall wilt thou have him shown? 
Or wilt thou that he sit fasting in the darkness to-night, laid
in gyves and fetters?  Or shall he have the cheer of
whipping and stripes, as befitteth a thrall to whom the master
oweth a grudge?  What is thy will with him?”

Said Hallblithe: “My will is that thou give him a seat
next to me, whether that be high or low, or the bench of thy
prison-house.  That he eat of my dish, and drink of my cup,
whatsoever the meat and drink may be.  For to-morrow I mean
that we twain shall go under the earth-collar together, and that
our blood shall run together and that we shall be brothers in
arms henceforward.”  Then Hallblithe did on his helm
again and drew his sword, and looked aside to the Puny Fox to bid
him do the like, and he did so, and Hallblithe said:
“Chieftain, thou hast bidden me to table, and I thank thee;
but I will not set my teeth in meat, out of our own house and
land, which hath not been truly given to me by one who wotteth of
me, unless I have conquered it as a prey of battle; neither will
I cast a lie into the loving-cup which shall pass from thy lips
to mine: therefore I will tell thee, that though I laid a stroke
or two on the Puny Fox, and those no light ones, yet was this
battle nought true and real, but a mere beguiling, even as that
which I saw foughten in this hall aforetime, when meseemeth the
slain men rose up in time to drink the good-night cup. 
Therefore, O men of the Ravagers, and thou, O Puny Fox, there is
nought to bind your hands and refrain your hearts, and ye may
slay me if ye will without murder or dishonour, and may make the
head of Hallblithe a knop for your feast-hall.  Yet shall
one or two fall to earth before I fall.”

Therewith he shook his sword aloft, and a great roar arose,
and weapons came down from the wall, and the candles shone on
naked steel.  But the Puny Fox came and stood by Hallblithe,
and spake in his ear amidst the uproar: “Well now,
brother-in-arms, I have been trying to learn thee the lore of
lies, and surely thou art the worst scholar who was ever smitten
by master.  And the outcome of it is that I, who have lied
so long and well, must now pay for all, and die for a barren
truth.”

Said Hallblithe: “Let all be as it will!  I love
thee, lies and all; but as for me I cannot handle them.  Lo
you! great and grim shall be the slaying, and we shall not fall
unavenged.”

Said the Puny Fox: “Hearken! for still they hang
back.  Belike it is I that have drawn this death on thee and
me.  My last lie was a fool’s lie and we die for it:
for what wouldst thou have done hadst thou wotted that thy
beloved, the Hostage of the Rose—”  He broke off
perforce; for Hallblithe was looking to right and left and
handling his sword, and heard not that last word of his; and from
both sides of the hall the throng was drawing round about those
twain, weapon in hand.  Then Hallblithe set his eyes on a
big man in front who was heaving up a heavy short-sword and
thought that he would at least slay this one.  But or ever
he might smite, the great horn blared out over the tumult, and
men forbore a while and fell somewhat silent.

Then came down to them the voice of the chieftain, a loud
voice, but clear and with mirth mingled with anger in it, and he
said: “What do these fools of the Ravagers cumbering the
floor of the feast-hall, and shaking weapons when there is no
foeman anigh?  Are they dreaming-drunk before the wine is
poured?  Why do they not sit down in their places, and abide
the bringing in of the meat?  And ye women, where are ye,
why do ye delay our meat, when ye may well wot that our hearts
are drooping for hunger; and all hath been duly done, the battle
of the champions fought and won, and the prize of war given forth
and taken?  How long, O folk, shall your chieftains sit
fasting?”

Then there arose great laughter in the hall, and men withdrew
them from those twain and went and sat them down in their
places.

Then the chieftain said: “Come up hither, I say, O
Hallblithe, and bring thy war-thrall with thee if thou
wilt.  But delay not, unless it be so that thou art neither
hungry nor thirsty; and good sooth thou shouldst be both; for men
say that the ravens are hard to satisfy.  Come then and make
good cheer with us!”

So Hallblithe thrust his sword into the sheath, and the Puny
Fox did the like, and they went both together up the hall to the
high-seat.  And Hallblithe sat down on the chieftain’s
right hand, and the Puny Fox next to him; and the chieftain, the
Erne, said: “O Hallblithe, dost thou need thine armour at
table; or dost thou find it handy to take thy meat clad in thy
byrny and girt with a sword?”

Then laughed Hallblithe and said: “Nay, meseemeth
to-night I shall need war-gear no more.”  And he stood
up and did off all his armour and gave it, sword and all, into
the hands of a woman, who bore it off, he knew not whither. 
And the Erne looked on him and said: “Well is that! and now
I see that thou art a fair young man, and it is no marvel though
maidens desire thee.”

As he spake came in the damsels with the victual and the cheer
was exceeding good, and Hallblithe grew light-hearted.

But when the healths had been drunk as aforetime, and men had
drunk a cup or two thereafter, there rose a warrior from one of
the endlong benches, a big young man, black-haired and
black-bearded, ruddy of visage, and he said in a voice that was
rough and fat: “O Erne, and ye other chieftains, we have
been talking here at our table concerning this guest of thine who
hath beguiled us, and we are not wholly at one with thee as to
thy dealings with him.  True it is, now that the man hath
our meat in his belly, that he must depart from amongst us with a
whole skin, unless of his own will he stand up to fight some man
of us here.  Yet some of us think that he is not so much our
friend that we should help him to a keel whereon to fare home to
those that hate us: and we say that it would not be unlawful to
let the man abide in the isle, and proclaim him a
wolf’s-head within a half-moon of to-day.  Or what
sayest thou?”

Said the Erne: “Wait for my word a while, and hearken to
another!  Is the Grey-goose of the Ravagers in the
hall?  Let him give out his word on this matter.”

Then arose a white-headed carle from a table nigh to the dais,
whose black raiment was well adorned with gold.  Despite his
years his face was fair and little wrinkled; a man with a
straight nose and a well-fashioned mouth, and with eyes still
bright and grey.  He spake: “O folk, I find that the
Erne hath done well in cherishing this guest.  For first, if
he hath beguiled us, he did it not save by the furtherance and
sleight of our own kinsman; therefore if any one is to die for
beguiling us, let it be the Puny Fox.  Secondly, we may well
wot that heavy need hath driven the man to this beguilement; and
I say that it was no unmanly deed for him to enter our hall and
beguile us with his sleight; and that he hath played out the play
right well and cunningly with the wisdom of a warrior. 
Thirdly, the manliness of him is well proven, in that having
overcome us in sleight, he hath spoken out the sooth concerning
our beguilement and hath made himself our foeman and captive,
when he might have sat down by us as our guest, freely and in all
honour.  And this he did, not as contemning the Puny Fox and
his lies and crafty wiles (for he hath told us that he loveth
him); but so that he might show himself a man in that which
trieth manhood.  Moreover, ye shall not forget that he is
the rebel of the Undying King, who is our lord and master;
therefore in cherishing him we show ourselves great-hearted, in
that we fear not the wrath of our master.  Therefore I
naysay the word of the War-brand that we should make this man a
wolf’s-head; for in so doing we shall show ourselves
lesser-hearted than he is, and of no account beside of him; and
his head on our hall-gable should be to us a nithing-stake, and a
tree of reproach.  So I bid thee, O Erne, to make much of
this man; and thou shalt do well to give him worthy gifts, such
as warriors may take, so that he may show them at home in the
House of the Raven, that it may be the beginning of peace betwixt
us and his noble kindred.  This is my say, and later on I
shall wax no wiser.”

Therewith he sat down, and there arose a murmur and stir in
the hall; but the more part said that the Grey-goose had spoken
well, and that it was good to be at peace with such manly fellows
as the new guest was.

But the Erne said: “One word will I lay hereto, to wit,
that he who desireth mine enmity let him do scathe to Hallblithe
of the Ravens and hinder him.”

Then he bade fill round the cups, and called a health to
Hallblithe, and all men drank to him, and there was much joyance
and merriment.

But when the night was well worn, the Erne turned to
Hallblithe and said: “That was a good word of the
Grey-goose which he spake concerning the giving of gifts:
Raven-son, wilt thou take a gift of me and be my
friend?”

“Thy friend will I be,” said Hallblithe,
“but no gift will I take of thee or any other till I have
the gift of gifts, and that is my troth-plight maiden.  I
will not be glad till I can be glad with her.”

Then laughed the Erne, and the Puny Fox grinned all across his
wide face, and Hallblithe looked from one to the other of them
and wondered at their mirth, and when they saw his wondering
eyes, they did but laugh the more; and the Erne said:
“Nevertheless, thou shalt see the gift which I would give
thee; and then mayst thou take it or leave it as thou wilt. 
Ho ye! bring in the throne of the Eastland with them that
minister to it!”

Certain men left the hall as he spake, and came back bearing
with them a throne fashioned most goodly of ivory, parcel-gilt
and begemmed, and adorned with marvellous craftsmanship: and they
set it down amidst of the hall-floor and went aback to their
places, while the Erne sat and smiled kindly on the folk and on
Hallblithe.  Then arose the sound of fiddles and the lesser
harp, and the doors of the screen were opened, and there flowed
into the hall a company of fair damsels not less than a score,
each one with a rose on her bosom, and they came and stood in
order behind the throne of the Eastlands, and they strewed roses
on the ground before them: and when they were duly ranged they
fell to singing:

      Now waneth
spring,

      While all birds sing,

      And the south wind blows

      The earliest rose

      To and fro

      By the doors we know,

      And the scented gale

      Fills every dale.

Slow now are brooks running because of the weed,

And the thrush hath no cunning to hide her at need,

So swift as she flieth from hedge-row to tree

As one that toil trieth, and deedful must be.

      And O! that at last,

      All sorrows past,

      This night I lay

      ’Neath the oak-beams
grey!

      O, to wake from sleep,

      To see dawn creep

      Through the fruitful grove

      Of the house that I love!

O! my feet to be treading the threshold once more,

O’er which once went the leading of swords to the war!

O! my feet in the garden’s edge under the sun,

Where the seeding grass hardens for haysel begun!

      Lo, lo! the wind blows

      To the heart of the Rose,

      And the ship lies tied

      To the haven side!

      But O for the keel

      The sails to feel!

      And the alien ness

      Growing less and less;

As down the wind driveth and thrusts through the sea

The sail-burg that striveth to turn and go free,

But the lads at the tiller they hold her in hand,

And the wind our well-willer drives fierce to the land.

      We shall wend it yet,

      The highway wet;

      For what is this

      That our bosoms kiss?

      What lieth sweet

      Before our feet?

      What token hath come

      To lead us home?

’Tis the Rose of the garden walled round from the croft

Where the grey roof its warden steep riseth aloft,

’Tis the Rose ’neath the oaken-beamed hall, where
they bide,

The pledges unbroken, the hand of the bride.

Hallblithe heard the song, and half thought it promised him
somewhat; but then he had been so misled and mocked at, that he
scarce knew how to rejoice at it.

Now the Erne spake: “Wilt thou not take the chair and
these dainty song-birds that stand about it?  Much wealth
might come into thine hall if thou wert to carry them over sea to
rich men who have no kindred, nor affinity wherein to wed, but
who love women as well as other men.”

Said Hallblithe: “I have wealth enow were I once home
again.  As to these maidens, I know by the fashion of them
that they are no women of the Rose, as by their song they should
be.  Yet will I take any of these maidens that have will to
go with me and be made sisters of my sisters, and wed with the
warriors of the Rose; or if they are of a kindred, and long to
sit each in the house of her folk, then will we send them home
over the sea with warriors to guard them from all trouble. 
For this gift I thank thee.  As to thy throne, I bid thee
keep it till a keel cometh thy way from our land, bringing fair
gifts for thee and thine.  For we are not so
unwealthy.”

Those that sat nearby heard his words and praised them; but
the Erne said: “All this is free to thee, and thou mayst do
what thou wilt with the gifts given to thee.  Yet shalt thou
have the throne; and I have thought of a way to make thee take
it.  Or what sayst thou, Puny Fox?”

Said the Puny Fox: “Yea if thou wilt, thou mayst, but I
thought it not of thee that thou wouldst.  Now is all
well.”

Again Hallblithe looked from one to the other and wondered
what they meant.  But the Erne cried out: “Bring in
now the sitter, who shall fill the empty throne!”

Then again the screen-doors opened, and there came in two
weaponed men, leading between them a woman clad in gold and
garlanded with roses.  So fair was the fashion of her face
and all her body, that her coming seemed to make a change in the
hall, as though the sun had shone into it suddenly.  She
trod the hall-floor with firm feet, and sat down on the ivory
chair.  But even before she was seated therein Hallblithe
knew that the Hostage was under that roof and coming toward
him.  And the heart rose in his breast and fluttered
therein, so sore he yearned toward the Daughter of the Rose, and
his very speech-friend.  Then he heard the Erne saying,
“How now, Raven-son, wilt thou have the throne and the
sitter therein, or wilt thou gainsay me once more?”

Thereafter he himself spake, and the sound of his voice was
strange to him and as if he knew it not: “Chieftain, I will
not gainsay thee, but will take thy gift, and thy friendship
therewith, whatsoever hath betided.  Yet would I say a word
or two unto the woman that sitteth yonder.  For I have been
straying amongst wiles and images, and mayhappen I shall yet find
this to be but a dream of the night, or a beguilement of the
day.”  Therewith he arose from the table, and walked
slowly down the hall; but it was a near thing that he did not
fall a-weeping before all those aliens, so full his heart
was.

He came and stood before the Hostage, and their eyes were upon
each other, and for a little while they had no words.  Then
Hallblithe began, wondering at his voice as he spake: “Art
thou a woman and my speech-friend?  For many images have
mocked me, and I have been encompassed with lies, and led astray
by behests that have not been fulfilled.  And the world hath
become strange to me, and empty of friends.”

Then she said: “Art thou verily Hallblithe?  For I
also have been encompassed by lies, and beset by images of things
unhelpful.”

“Yea,” said he, “I am Hallblithe of the
Ravens, wearied with desire for my troth-plight
maiden.”

Then came the rosy colour into the fairness of her face, as
the rising sun lighteth the garden of flowers in the June
morning; and she said: “If thou art Hallblithe, tell me
what befell to the finger-gold-ring that my mother gave me when
we were both but little.”

Then his face grew happy, and he smiled, and he said: “I
put it for thee one autumntide in the snake’s hole in the
bank above the river, amidst the roots of the old thorn-tree,
that the snake might brood it, and make the gold grow greater;
but when winter was over and we came to look for it, lo! there
was neither ring nor snake, nor thorn-tree: for the flood had
washed it all away.”

Thereat she smiled most sweetly, and whereas she had been
looking on him hitherto with strained and anxious eyes, she now
beheld him simply and friendly; and she said: “O
Hallblithe, I am a woman indeed, and thy speech-friend. 
This is the flesh that desireth thee, and the life that is thine,
and the heart which thou rejoicest.  But now tell me, who
are these huge images around us, amongst whom I have sat thus,
once in every moon this year past, and afterwards I was taken
back to the women’s bower?  Are they men or
mountain-giants?  Will they slay us, or shut us up from the
light and air?  Or hast thou made peace with them? 
Wilt thou then dwell with me here, or shall we go back again to
Cleveland by the Sea?  And when, oh when, shall we
depart?”

He smiled and said: “Quick come thy questions,
beloved.  These are the folks of the Ravagers and the
Sea-eagles: they be men, though fierce and wild they be. 
Our foes they have been, and have sundered us; but now are they
our friends, and have brought us together.  And to-morrow, O
friend, shall we depart across the waters to Cleveland by the
Sea.”

She leaned forward, and was about to speak softly to him, but
suddenly started back, and said: “There is a big,
red-haired man, as big as any here, behind thy shoulder.  Is
he also a friend?  What would he with us?”

So Hallblithe turned about, and beheld the Puny Fox beside
him, who took up the word and spoke, smiling as a man in great
glee: “O maiden of the Rose, I am Hallblithe’s
thrall, and his scholar, to unlearn the craft of lying, whereby I
have done amiss towards both him and thee.  Whereof I will
tell thee all the tale soon.  But now I will say that it is
true that we depart to-morrow for Cleveland by the Sea, thou and
he, and I in company.  Now I would ask thee, Hallblithe, if
thou wouldst have me bestow this gift of thine in safe-keeping
to-night, since there is an end of her sitting in the hall like a
graven image: and to-morrow the way will be long and wearisome,
What sayest thou?”

Said the Hostage: “Shall I trust this man and go with
him?”

“Yea, thou shalt trust him,” said Hallblithe,
“for he is trusty.  And even were he not, it is meet
for us of the Raven and the Rose to do as our worth biddeth us,
and not to fear this folk.  And it behoveth us to do after
their customs since we are in their house.”

“That is sooth,” she said; “big man, lead me
out of the hall to my place.  Farewell, Hallblithe, for a
little while, and then shall there be no more sundering for
us.”

Therewith she departed with the Puny Fox, and Hallblithe went
back to the high-seat and sat down by the Erne, who laughed on
him and said: “Thou hast taken my gift, and that is well:
yet shall I tell thee that I would not have given it to thee if I
could have kept it for myself in such plight as thou wilt have
it.  But all I could do, and the Puny Fox to help withal,
availed me nought.  So good luck go with thine hands. 
Now will we to bed, and to-morrow I will lead thee out on thy
way; for to say sooth, there be some here who are not well
pleased with either thee or me; and thou knowest that words are
wasted on wilful men, but that deeds may avail
somewhat.”

Therewith he cried out for the cup of good-night, and when it
was drunken, Hallblithe was shown to a fair shut-bed; even that
wherein he had lain aforetime; and there he went to sleep in joy,
and in good liking with all men.

CHAPTER XXII: THEY GO FROM THE ISLE OF RANSOM AND COME TO
CLEVELAND BY THE SEA

In the morning early Hallblithe arose from his bed, and when
he came into the mid-hall, there was the Puny Fox and the Hostage
with him; Hallblithe kissed her and embraced her, and she him;
yet not like lovers long sundered, but as a man and maid
betrothed are wont to do, for there were folk coming and going
about the hall.  Then spake the Puny Fox: “The Erne is
abiding us out in the meadow yonder; for now nought will serve
him but he must needs go under the earth-collar with us. 
How sayest thou, is he enough thy friend?”

Said Hallblithe, smiling on the Hostage: “What hast thou
to say to it, beloved?”

“Nought at all,” she said, “if thou art
friend to any of these men.  I may deem that I have somewhat
against the chieftain, whereof belike this big man may tell thee
hereafter; but even so much meseemeth I have against this man
himself, who is now become thy friend and scholar; for he also
strove for my beguilement, and that not for himself, but for
another.”

“True it is,” said the Fox, “that I did it
for another; even as yesterday I took thy mate Hallblithe out of
the trap whereinto he had strayed, and compassed his deliverance
by means of the unfaithful battle; and even as I would have
stolen thee for him, O Rose-maiden, if need had been; yea, even
if I must have smitten into ruin the roof-tree of the
Ravagers.  And how could I tell that the Erne would give
thee up unstolen?  Yea, thou sayeth sooth, O noble and
spotless maiden; all my deeds, both good and ill, have I done for
others; and so I deem it shall be while my life
lasteth.”

Then Hallblithe laughed and said: “Art thou nettled,
fellow-in-arms, at the word of a woman who knoweth thee
not?  She shall yet be thy friend, O Fox.  But tell me,
beloved, I deemed that thou hadst not seen Fox before; how then
can he have helped the Erne against thee?”

“Yet she sayeth sooth,” said Fox, “this was
of my sleight: for when I had to come before her, I changed my
skin, as I well know how; there are others in this land who can
do so much as that.  But what sayest thou concerning the
brotherhood with the Erne?”

“Let it be so,” said Hallblithe, “he is
manly and true, though masterful, and is meet for this land of
his.  I shall not fall out with him; for seldom meseemeth
shall I see the Isle of Ransom.”

“And I never again,” said the Puny Fox.

“Dost thou loathe it, then,” said the Hostage,
“because of the evil thou hast done therein?”

“Nay,” said he, “what is the evil, when
henceforth I shall do but good?  Nay, I love the land. 
Belike thou deemest it but dreary with its black rocks and black
sand, and treeless wind-swept dales; but I know it in summer and
winter, and sun and shade, in storm and calm.  And I know
where the fathers dwelt and the sons of their sons’ sons
have long lain in the earth.  I have sailed its windiest
firths, and climbed its steepest crags; and ye may well wot that
it hath a friendly face to me; and the land-wights of the
mountains will be sorry for my departure.”

So he spake, and Hallblithe would have answered him, but by
now were they come to a grassy hollow amidst the dale, where the
Erne had already made the earth-yoke ready.  To wit, he had
loosened a strip of turf all save the two ends, and had propped
it up with two ancient dwarf-wrought spears, so that amidmost
there was a lintel to go under.

So when he saw those others coming, he gave them the sele of
the day, and said to Hallblithe: “What is it to be? shall I
be less than thy brother-in-arms henceforward?”

Said Hallblithe: “Not a whit less.  It is good to
have brothers in other lands than one.”

So they made no delay, but clad in all their war-gear, they
went under the earth-yoke one after the other; thereafter they
stood together, and each let blood in his arm, so that the blood
of all three mingled together fell down on the grass of the
ancient earth; and they swore friendship and brotherhood each to
each.

But when all was done the Erne spake: “Brother
Hallblithe, as I lay awake in bed this morning I deemed that I
would take ship with thee to Cleveland by the Sea, that I might
dwell there a while.  But when I came out of the hall, and
saw the dale lying green betwixt hill-side and hill-side, and the
glittering river running down amidmost, and the sheep and kine
and horses feeding up and down on either side the water: and I
looked up at the fells and saw how deep blue they stood up
against the snowy peaks, and I thought of all our deeds on the
deep sea, and the merry nights, in yonder abode of men: then I
thought that I would not leave the kindred, were it but for a
while, unless war and lifting called me.  So now I will ride
with thee to the ship, and then farewell to thee.”

“It is good,” said Hallblithe, “though not
as good as it might be.  Glad had we been with thee in the
hall of the Ravens.”

As he spoke drew anigh the carles leading the horses, and with
them came six of those damsels whom the Erne had given to
Hallblithe the night before; two of whom asked to be brought to
their kindred over sea; but the other four were fain to go with
Hallblithe and the Hostage, and become their sisters at Cleveland
by the Sea.

So then they got to horse and rode down the dale toward the
haven, and the carles rode with them, so that of weaponed men
they were a score in company.  But when they were half-way
to the haven they saw where hard by three knolls on the way-side
were men standing with their weapons and war-gear glittering in
the sun.  So the Erne laughed and said: “Shall we have
a word with War-brand then?”

But they rode steadily on their way, and when they came up to
the knolls they saw that it was War-brand indeed with a score of
men at his back; but they stirred not when they saw Erne’s
company that it was great.  Then Erne laughed aloud and
cried out in a big voice, “What, lads! ye ride early this
morning; are there foemen abroad in the Isle?”

They shrank back before him, but a carle of those who was
hindermost cried out: “Art thou coming back to us, Erne, or
have thy new friends bought thee to lead them in
battle?”

“Fear it nought,” quoth Erne, “I shall be
back before the shepherd’s noon.”

So they went their ways and came to the haven, and there lay
the Flaming Sword, and beside her a trim bark, not right great,
all ready for sea: and Hallblithe’s skiff was made fast to
her for an after-boat.

Then the Hostage and Hallblithe and the six damsels went
aboard her, and when the Erne had bidden them farewell, they cast
off the hawsers and thrust her out through the haven-mouth; but
ere they had got midmost of the haven, they saw the Erne, that he
had turned about, and was riding up the dale with his
house-carles, and each man’s weapon was shining in his
hand: and they wondered if he were riding to battle with
War-brand; and Fox said: “Meseemeth our brother-in-arms
hath in his mind to give those waylayers an evil minute, and
verily he is the man to do the same.”

So they gat them out of the haven, and the ebb-tide drave out
seaward strongly, and the wind was fair for Cleveland by the Sea;
and they ran speedily past the black cliffs of the Isle of
Ransom, and soon were they hull down behind them.  But on
the afternoon of the next day they hove up the land of the
kindreds, and by sunset they beached their ship on the sand by
the Rollers of the Raven, and went ashore without more ado. 
And the strand was empty of all men, even as on the day when
Hallblithe first met the Puny Fox.  So then in the cool of
the evening they went up toward the House of the Raven. 
Those damsels went together hand in hand two by two, and
Hallblithe held the Hostage by the hand; but the Puny Fox went
along beside them, gleeful and of many words; telling them tales
of his wiles and his craft, and his skin-changing.

“But now,” quoth he, “I have left all that
behind me in the Isle of Ransom, and have but one shape, and I
would for your behoof that it were a goodlier one: and but one
wisdom have I, even that which dwelleth in mine own
head-bone.  Yet it may be that this may avail you one time
or other.  But lo you! though I am thy thrall, have I not
the look of a thrall-huckster from over sea leading up my wares
to the cheaping-stead?”  They laughed at his words and
were merry, and much love there was amongst them as they went up
to the House of the Raven.

But when they came thither they went into the garth, and there
was no man therein, for it was now dusk, and the windows of the
long hall were yellow with candle-light.  Then said Fox:
“Abide ye here a little; for I would go into the hall alone
and see the conditions of thy people, O Hallblithe.”

“Go thou, then,” said Hallblithe, “but be
not rash.  I counsel thee; for our folk are not over-patient
when they deem they have a foe before them.”

The Puny Fox laughed, and said: “So it is then the world
over, that happy men are wilful and masterful.”

Then he drew his sword and smote on the door with the pommel,
and the door opened to him and in he went: and he found that fair
hall full of folk and bright with candles; and he stood amidst
the floor; all men looked on him, and many knew him at once to be
a man of the Ravagers, and silence fell upon the hall, but no man
stirred hand against him.  Then he said: “Will ye
hearken to the word of an evil man, a robber of the
folks?”

Spake the chieftain from the dais: “Words will not hurt
us, sea-warrior; and thou art but one among many; wherefore thy
might this eve is but as the might of a new-born baby. 
Speak, and afterwards eat and drink, and depart safe from amongst
us!”

Spake the Puny Fox: “What is gone with Hallblithe, a
fair young man of your kindred, and with the Hostage of the Rose,
his troth-plight maiden?”

Then was the hush yet greater in the hall, so that you might
have heard a pin drop; and the chieftain said: “It is a
grief of ours that they are gone, and that none hath brought us
back their dead bodies that we might lay them in the Acre of the
Fathers.”

Then leapt up a man from the end-long table nigh to Fox, and
cried out: “Yea, folk! they are gone, and we deem that
runagates of thy kindred, O new-come man, have stolen them from
us; wherefor they shall one day pay us.”

Then laughed the Puny Fox and said: “Some would say that
stealing Hallblithe was like stealing a lion, and that he might
take care of himself; though he was not as big as I
am.”

Said the last speaker: “Did thy kin or didst thou steal
him, O evil man?”

“Yea, I stole him,” quoth Fox, “but by
sleight, and not by might.”

Then uprose great uproar in the hall, but the chieftain on the
high-seat cried out: “Peace, peace!” and the noise
abated, and the chieftain said: “Dost thou mean that thou
comest hither to give us thine head for making away with
Hallblithe and the Hostage?”

“I mean to ask rather,” said the Fox, “what
thou wilt give me for the bodies of these twain?”

Said the chieftain: “A boat-load of gold were not too
much if thou shouldst live a little longer.”

Quoth the Puny Fox: “Well, in anywise I will go and
bring in the bodies aforesaid, and leave my reward to the
goodwill of the Ravens.”

Therewith he turned about to go, but lo! there already in the
door stood Hallblithe holding the Hostage by the hand; and many
in the hall saw them, for the door was wide.  Then they came
in and stood by the side of the Puny Fox, and all men in the hall
arose and shouted for joy.  But when the tumult was a little
abated, the Puny Fox cried out: “O chieftain, and all ye
folk! if a boat-load of gold were not too much reward for the
bringing back the dead bodies of your friends, what reward shall
he have who hath brought back their bodies and the souls
therein?”

Said the chieftain: “The man shall choose his own
reward.”  And the men in the hall shouted their
yeasay.

Then said the Puny Fox: “Well, then, this I choose, that
ye make me one of your kindred before the fathers of old
time.”

They all cried out that he had chosen wisely and manfully; but
Hallblithe said: “I bid you do for him no less than this;
and ye shall wot that he is already my sworn
brother-in-arms.”

Now the chieftain cried out: “O Wanderers from over the
sea, come up hither and sit with us and be merry at
last!”

So they went up to the dais, Hallblithe and the Hostage, and
the Puny Fox and the six maidens withal.  And since the
night was yet young, the supper of the men of the Ravens was
turned into the wedding-feast of Hallblithe and the Hostage, and
that very night she became a wife of the Ravens, that she might
bear to the House the best of men and the fairest of women.

But on the morrow they brought the Puny Fox to the mote-stead
of the kindreds that he might stand before the fathers and be
made a son of the kindred; and this they did because of the word
of Hallblithe, and because they believed in the tale which he
told them of the Glittering Plain and the Acre of the
Undying.  The four maidens also were made sisters of the
House; and the other twain were sent home to their own kindred in
all honour.

Of the Puny Fox it is said that he soon lost and forgot all
the lore which he had learned of the ancient men, living and
dead; and became as other men and was no wizard.  Yet he was
exceeding valiant and doughty; and he ceased not to go with
Hallblithe wheresoever he went; and many deeds they did together,
whereof the memory of men hath failed: but neither they nor any
man of the Ravens came any more to the Glittering Plain, or heard
any tidings of the folk that dwell there.

Herewith endeth
the Tale.

Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson &
Co.

at Paul’s Work, Edinburgh