The House of the Wolfings | Page 4

days when as yet
there was neither house nor tillage, nor flocks and herds, but the Earth's
face only and what freely grew thereon.
But over the dais there hung by chains and pulleys fastened to a
tie-beam of the roof high aloft a wondrous lamp fashioned of glass; yet
of no such glass as the folk made then and there, but of a fair and clear
green like an emerald, and all done with figures and knots in gold, and
strange beasts, and a warrior slaying a dragon, and the sun rising on the
earth: nor did any tale tell whence this lamp came, but it was held as an
ancient and holy thing by all the Markmen, and the kindred of the Wolf
had it in charge to keep a light burning in it night and day for ever; and
they appointed a maiden of their own kindred to that office; which
damsel must needs be unwedded, since no wedded woman dwelling
under that roof could be a Wolfing woman, but would needs be of the
houses wherein the Wolfings wedded.
This lamp which burned ever was called the Hall-Sun, and the woman
who had charge of it, and who was the fairest that might be found was
called after it the Hall-Sun also.
At the other end of the hall was the Woman's-Chamber, and therein

were the looms and other gear for the carding and spinning of wool and
the weaving of cloth.
Such was the Roof under which dwelt the kindred of the Wolfings; and
the other kindreds of the Mid-mark had roofs like to it; and of these the
chiefest were the Elkings, the Vallings, the Alftings, the Beamings, the
Galtings, and the Bearings; who bore on their banners the Elk, the
Falcon, the Swan, the Tree, the Boar, and the Bear. But other lesser and
newer kindreds there were than these: as for the Hartings above named,
they were a kindred of the Upper-mark.
CHAPTER II
--THE FLITTING OF THE WAR-ARROW
Tells the tale that it was an evening of summer, when the wheat was in
the ear, but yet green; and the neat-herds were done driving the milch-
kine to the byre, and the horseherds and the shepherds had made the
night- shift, and the out-goers were riding two by two and one by one
through the lanes between the wheat and the rye towards the meadow.
Round the cots of the thralls were gathered knots of men and women
both thralls and freemen, some talking together, some hearkening a
song or a tale, some singing and some dancing together; and the
children gambolling about from group to group with their shrill and
tuneless voices, like young throstles who have not yet learned the song
of their race. With these were mingled dogs, dun of colour, long of
limb, sharp-nosed, gaunt and great; they took little heed of the children
as they pulled them about in their play, but lay down, or loitered about,
as though they had forgotten the chase and the wild-wood.
Merry was the folk with that fair tide, and the promise of the harvest,
and the joy of life, and there was no weapon among them so close to
the houses, save here and there the boar-spear of some herdman or
herd-woman late come from the meadow.
Tall and for the most part comely were both men and women; the most
of them light-haired and grey-eyed, with cheek-bones somewhat high;
white of skin but for the sun's burning, and the wind's parching, and

whereas they were tanned of a very ruddy and cheerful hue. But the
thralls were some of them of a shorter and darker breed, black-haired
also and dark-eyed, lighter of limb; sometimes better knit, but
sometimes crookeder of leg and knottier of arm. But some also were of
build and hue not much unlike to the freemen; and these doubtless
came of some other Folk of the Goths which had given way in battle
before the Men of the Mark, either they or their fathers.
Moreover some of the freemen were unlike their fellows and kindred,
being slenderer and closer-knit, and black-haired, but grey-eyed withal;
and amongst these were one or two who exceeded in beauty all others
of the House.
Now the sun was set and the glooming was at point to begin and the
shadowless twilight lay upon the earth. The nightingales on the borders
of the wood sang ceaselessly from the scattered hazel-trees above the
greensward where the grass was cropped down close by the nibbling of
the rabbits; but in spite of their song and the divers voices of the
men-folk about the houses, it was an evening on which sounds from
aloof can be well heard, since noises carry far at such tides.