The Carline gazed at her with dark eyes that shone brightly from amidst her brown wrinkled face: then she sat herself down beside her and spake:
"From a far folk have I wandered and I come of an alien blood, But I know all tales of the Wolfings and their evil and their good; And when I heard of thy fairness, thereof I heard it said, That for thee should be never a bridal nor a place in the warrior's bed."
The maiden neither reddened nor paled, but looking with calm steady eyes into the Carline's face she answered:
"Yea true it is, I am wedded to the mighty ones of old, And the fathers of the Wolfings ere the days of field and fold."
Then a smile came into the eyes of the old woman and she said.
"How glad shall be thy mother of thy worship and thy worth, And the father that begat thee if yet they dwell on earth!"
But the Hall-Sun answered in the same steady manner as before:
"None knoweth who is my mother, nor my very father's name; But when to the House of the Wolfings a wild-wood waif I came, They gave me a foster-mother an ancient dame and good, And a glorious foster-father the best of all the blood."
Spake the Carline.
"Yea, I have heard the story, but scarce therein might I trow That thou with all thy beauty wert born 'neath the oaken bough, And hast crawled a naked baby o'er the rain-drenched autumn-grass; Wilt thou tell the wandering woman what wise it cometh to pass That thou art the Mid-mark's Hall-Sun, and the sign of the Wolfings' gain? Thou shalt pleasure me much by the telling, and there of shalt thou be fain."
Then answered the Hall-Sun.
"Yea; thus much I remember for the first of my memories; That I lay on the grass in the morning and above were the boughs of the trees. But nought naked was I as the wood-whelp, but clad in linen white, And adown the glades of the oakwood the morning sun lay bright. Then a hind came out of the thicket and stood on the sunlit glade, And turned her head toward the oak tree and a step on toward me made. Then stopped, and bounded aback, and away as if in fear, That I saw her no more; then I wondered, though sitting close anear Was a she-wolf great and grisly. But with her was I wont to play, And pull her ears, and belabour her rugged sides and grey, And hold her jaws together, while she whimpered, slobbering For the love of my love; and nowise I deemed her a fearsome thing. There she sat as though she were watching, and o'er head a blue-winged jay Shrieked out from the topmost oak-twigs, and a squirrel ran his way Two tree-trunks off. But the she-wolf arose up suddenly And growled with her neck-fell bristling, as if danger drew anigh; And therewith I heard a footstep, for nice was my ear to catch All the noises of the wild-wood; so there did we sit at watch While the sound of feet grew nigher: then I clapped hand on hand And crowed for joy and gladness, for there out in the sun did stand A man, a glorious creature with a gleaming helm on his head, And gold rings on his arms, in raiment gold-broidered crimson-red. Straightway he strode up toward us nor heeded the wolf of the wood But sang as he went in the oak-glade, as a man whose thought is good, And nought she heeded the warrior, but tame as a sheep was grown, And trotted away through the wild-wood with her crest all laid adown. Then came the man and sat down by the oak-bole close unto me And took me up nought fearful and set me on his knee. And his face was kind and lovely, so my cheek to his cheek I laid And touched his cold bright war-helm and with his gold rings played, And hearkened his words, though I knew not what tale they had to tell, Yet fain was my heart of their music, and meseemed I loved him well. So we fared for a while and were fain, till he set down my feet on the grass, And kissed me and stood up himself, and away through the wood did he pass. And then came back the she-wolf and with her I played and was fain. Lo the first thing I remember: wilt thou have me babble again?"
Spake the Carline and her face was soft and kind:
"Nay damsel, long would I hearken to thy voice this summer day. But how didst thou leave the wild-wood, what people brought thee away?"
Then said the Hall-Sun:
"I awoke on a time in the even, and voices I heard as I woke; And there was I in the wild-wood by the bole of the ancient oak, And a ring of men was around me, and glad was I indeed As I looked upon their faces and the fashion of their weed. For I gazed on the red and the scarlet and the beaten silver and gold, And blithe were their noble faces and kindly to behold, And nought had I seen of such-like since that hour of the other day When that warrior came to the oak glade with the little child to play. And forth now he came, with the face that my hands had fondled before, And a battle shield wrought fairly upon his arm he bore, And thereon the wood-wolf's image in ruddy gold was done. Then I stretched out my little arms towards the glorious shining one And he took me up and set me on his shoulder for a while And turned about to his fellows with a blithe and joyous smile; And they shouted aloud about me and drew forth gleaming swords And clashed them on their bucklers; but nought I knew of the words Of their shouting and rejoicing. So thereafter was I laid And borne forth on the warrior's warshield, and our way through the wood we made 'Midst the mirth and great contentment of those fair-clad shielded men.
"But no tale of the wolf and the wild-wood abides with me since then, And the next thing I remember is a huge and dusky hall, A world for my little body from ancient wall to wall; A world of many doings, and nought for me to do, A world of many noises, and known to me were few.
"Time wore, and I spoke with the Wolfings and knew the speech of the kin, And was strange 'neath the roof no longer, as a lonely waif therein; And I wrought as a child with my playmates and every hour looked on Unto the next hour's joyance till the happy day was done. And going and coming amidst us was a woman tall and thin With hair like the hoary barley and silver streaks therein. And kind and sad of visage, as now I remember me, And she sat and told us stories when we were aweary with glee, And many of us she fondled, but me the most of all. And once from my sleep she waked me and bore me down the hall, In the hush of the very midnight, and I was feared thereat. But she brought me unto the dais, and there the warrior sat, Who took me up and kissed me, as erst within the wood; And meseems in his arms I slumbered: but I wakened again and stood Alone with the kindly woman, and gone was the goodly man, And athwart the hush of the Folk-hall the moon shone bright and wan, And the woman dealt with a lamp hung up by a chain aloft, And she trimmed it and fed it with oil, while she chanted sweet and soft A song whose words I knew not: then she ran it up again, And up in the darkness above us died the length of its wavering chain."
"Yea," said the carline, "this woman will have been the Hall-Sun that came before thee. What next dost thou remember?"
Said the maiden:
"Next I mind me of the hazels behind the People's Roof, And the children running thither and the magpie flitting aloof, And my hand in the hand of the Hall-Sun, as after the others we went, And she soberly hearkening my prattle and the words of my intent. And now would I call her 'Mother,' and indeed I loved her well.
"So I waxed; and now of my memories the tale were long to tell; But as the days passed over, and I fared to field and wood, Alone or with my playmates, still the days were fair and good. But the sad and kindly Hall-Sun for my fosterer now I knew, And the great and glorious warrior that my heart clung sorely to Was but my foster-father; and I knew that I had no kin In the ancient House of the Wolfings, though love was warm therein."
Then smiled the carline and said: "Yea, he is thy foster-father, and yet a fond one."
"Sooth is that," said the Hall-Sun. "But wise art thou by seeming. Hast thou come to tell me of what kindred I am, and who is my father and who is my mother?"
Said the carline: "Art thou not also wise? Is it not