The House of the Wolfings
first won, so that Valtyr and his folk were the first to clear a space
within the gate, and to tell the tale shortly (for can this that and the
other sword-stroke be told of in such a medley?) they drew the death-ring
around the Romans that were before them, and slew them all to the last
man, and then fell fiercely on the rearward of them of the North gate,
who still stood before Hiarandi's onset. There again was no long tale to
tell of, for Hiarandi was just winning the gate, and the wall was cleared
of the Roman shot-fighters, and the Markmen were standing on the top
thereof, and casting down on the Romans spears and baulks of wood and
whatsoever would fly. There again were the Romans all slain or put out
of the fight, and the two bands of the kindred joined together, and with
what voices the battle-rage had left them cried out for joy and fared on
together to help to bind the sheaves of war which Thiodolf's sickle had
reaped. And now it was mere slaying, and the Romans, though they still
fought in knots of less than a score, yet fought on and hewed and thrust
without more thought or will than the stone has when it leaps adown the
hill-side after it has first been set agoing.
But now the garth was fairly won and Thiodolf saw that there was no hope
for the Romans drawing together again; so while the kindreds were busied
in hewing down those knots of desperate men, he gathered to him some of
the wisest of his warriors, amongst whom were Steinulf and Grani the
Grey, the deft wood-wrights (but Athalulf had been grievously hurt by a
spear and was out of the battle), and drave a way through the confused
turmoil which still boiled in the garth there, and made straight for the
Man's-door of the Hall. Soon he was close thereto, having hewn away all
fleers that hindered him, and the doorway was before him. But on the
threshold, the fire and flames of the kindled hall behind him, stood the
Roman Captain clad in gold-adorned armour and surcoat of sea-born purple;
the man was cool and calm and proud, and a mocking smile was on his face:
and he bore his bright blade unbloodied in his hand.
Thiodolf stayed a moment of time, and their eyes met; it had gone hard
with the War-duke, and those eyes glittered in his pale face, and his
teeth were close set together; though he had fought wisely, and for life,
as he who is most valiant ever will do, till he is driven to bay like the
lone wood-wolf by the hounds, yet had he been sore mishandled. His helm
and shield were gone, his hauberk rent; for it was no dwarf-wrought coat,
but the work of Ivar's hand: the blood was running down from his left
arm, and he was hurt in many places: he had broken Ivar's sword in the
medley, and now bore in his hand a strong Roman short-sword, and his feet
stood bloody on the worn earth anigh the Man's-door.
He looked into the scornful eyes of the Roman lord for a little minute
and then laughed aloud, and therewithal, leaping on him with one spring,
turned sideways, and dealt him a great buffet on his ear with his unarmed
left hand, just as the Roman thrust at him with his sword, so that the
Captain staggered forward on to the next man following, which was
Wolfkettle the eager warrior, who thrust him through with his sword and
shoved him aside as they all strode into the hall together. Howbeit no
sword fell from the Roman Captain as he fell, for Thiodolf's side bore it
into the Hall of the Wolfings.
Most wrathful were those men, and went hastily, for their Roof was full
of smoke, and the flames flickered about the pillars and the wall here
and there, and crept up to the windows aloft; yet was it not wholly or
fiercely burning; for the Roman fire-raisers had been hurried and hasty
in their work. Straightway then Steinulf and Grani led the others off at
a run towards the loft and the water; but Thiodolf, who went slowly and
painfully, looked and beheld on the dais those men bound for the burning,
and he went quietly, and as a man who has been sick, and is weak, up on
to the dais, and said:
"Be of good cheer, O brothers, for the kindreds have vanquished the
foemen, and the end of strife is come."
His voice sounded strange and sweet to them amidst the turmoil of the
fight without; he laid down his sword on the table, and drew a little
sharp knife from his girdle and cut their bonds one by one and loosed
them with his blood-stained hands; and each one as he loosed him he
kissed and said to him, "Brother, go help those who are quenching the
fire; this is the bidding of the War-duke."
But as he loosed one after other he was longer and longer about it, and
his words were slower. At last he came to the man who was bound in his
own high-seat close under the place of the wondrous Lamp, the Hall-Sun,
and he was the only one left bound; that man was of the Wormings and was
named Elfric; he loosed him and was long about it; and when he was done
he smiled on him and kissed him, and said to him:
"Arise, brother! go help the quenchers of the fire, and leave to me this
my chair, for I am weary: and if thou wilt, thou mayst bring me of that
water to drink, for this morning men have forgotten the mead of the
reapers!"
Then Elfric arose, and Thiodolf sat in his chair, and leaned back his
head; but Elfric looked at him for a moment as one scared, and then ran
his ways down the hall, which now was growing noisy with the hurry and
bustle of the quenchers of the fire, to whom had divers others joined
themselves.
There then from a bucket which was still for a moment he filled a wooden
bowl, which he caught up from the base of one of the hall-pillars, and
hastened up the Hall again; and there was no man nigh the dais, and
Thiodolf yet sat in his chair, and the hall was dim with the rolling
smoke, and Elfric saw not well what the War-duke was doing. So he
hastened on, and when he was close to Thiodolf he trod in something wet,
and his heart sank for he knew that it was blood; his foot slipped
therewith and as he put out his hand to save himself the more part of the
water was spilled, and mingled with the blood. But he went up to
Thiodolf and said to him, "Drink, War-duke! here hath come a mouthful of
water."
But Thiodolf moved not for his word, and Elfric touched him, and he moved
none the more.
Then Elfric's heart failed him and he laid his hand on the War-duke's
hand, and looked closely into his face; and the hand was cold and the
face ashen-pale; and Elfric laid his hand on his side, and he felt the
short-sword of the Roman leader thrust deep therein, besides his many
other hurts.
So Elfric knew that he was dead, and he cast the bowl to the earth, and
lifted up his hands and wailed out aloud, like a woman who hath come
suddenly on her dead child, and cried out in a great voice:
"Hither, hither, O men in this hall, for the War-duke of the Markmen is
dead! O ye people, Hearken! Thiodolf the Mighty, the Wolfing is dead!"
And he was a young man, and weak with the binding and the waiting for
death, and he bowed himself adown and crouched on the ground and wept
aloud.
But even as he cried that cry, the sunlight outside the Man's-door was
darkened, and the Hall-Sun came over the threshold in her ancient gold-
embroidered raiment, holding in her hand her namesake the wondrous Lamp;
and the spears and the war-gear of warriors gleamed behind her; but the
men tarried on the threshold till she turned about and beckoned to them,
and then they poured in through the Man's-door, their war-gear rent and
they all befouled and disarrayed with the battle, but with proud and
happy faces: as they entered she waved her hand to them to bid them go
join the quenchers of the fire; so they went their ways.
But she went with unfaltering steps up to the dais, and the place where
the chain of the Lamp hung down from amidst the smoke-cloud wavering a
little in the gusts of the hall. Straightway she made the Lamp fast to
its chain, and dealt with its pulleys with a deft hand often practised
therein, and then let it run up toward the smoke-hidden Roof till it
gleamed in its due place once more, a token of the salvation of the
Wolfings and the welfare of all the kindreds.
Then she turned toward Thiodolf with a calm and solemn face, though it
was very pale and looked as if she would not smile again. Elfric had
risen up and was standing by the board speechless and the passion of sobs
still struggling in his bosom. She put him aside gently, and went up to
Thiodolf and stood above him, and looked down on his face a while: then
she put forth her hand and closed his eyes, and stooped down and kissed
his face. Then she stood up again and faced the Hall and looked and saw
that many were streaming in, and that though the smoke was still eddying
overhead, the fire was well nigh quenched within; and without the sound
of battle had sunk and died away. For indeed the Markmen had ended their
day's work before noon-tide that day, and the more part of the Romans
were slain, and to the rest they had given peace till the Folk-mote
should give Doom concerning them; for pity of these valiant men was
growing in the hearts of the valiant men who had vanquished them, now
that they feared them no more.
And this second part of the Morning Battle is called Thiodolf's Storm.
So now when the Hall-Sun looked and beheld that the battle was done and
the fire quenched, and when she saw how every man that came into the Hall
looked up and beheld the wondrous Lamp and his face quickened into joy at
the sight of it; and how most looked up at the high-seat and Thiodolf
lying leaned back therein, her heart nigh broke between the thought of
her grief and of the grief of the Folk that their mighty friend was dead,
and the thought of the joy of the days to be and all the glory that his
latter days had won. But she gathered heart, and casting back the dark
tresses of her hair, she lifted up her voice and cried out till its clear
shrillness sounded throughout all the Roof:
"O men in this Hall the War-duke is dead! O people hearken! for Thiodolf
the Mighty hath changed his life: Come hither, O men, Come hither, for
this is true, that Thiodolf is dead!"
CHAPTER XXX--THIODOLF IS BORNE OUT OF THE HALL AND OTTER IS LAID BESIDE
HIM
So when they heard her voice they came thither flockmeal, and a great
throng mingled of many kindreds was in the Hall, but with one consent
they made way for the Children of the Wolf to stand nearest to the dais.
So there they stood, the warriors mingled with the women, the swains with
the old men, the freemen with the thralls: for now the stay-at-homes of
the House were all gotten into the garth, and the more part of them had
flowed into the feast-hall when they knew that the fire was slackening.
All these now had heard the clear voice of the Hall-Sun, or others had
told them what had befallen; and the wave of grief had swept coldly over
them amidst their joy of the recoverance of their dwelling-place; yet
they would not wail nor cry aloud, even to ease their sorrow, till they
had heard the words of the Hall-Sun, as she stood facing them beside
their dead War-duke.
Then she spake: "O Sorli the Old, come up hither! thou hast been my
fellow in arms this long while."
So the old man came forth, and went slowly in his clashing war-gear up on
to the dais. But his attire gleamed and glittered, since over-old was he
to thrust deep into the press that day, howbeit he was wise in war. So
he stood beside her on the dais holding his head high, and proud he
looked, for all his thin white locks and sunken eyes.
But again said the Hall-Sun: "Canst thou hear me, Wolfkettle, when I bid
thee stand beside me, or art thou, too, gone on the road to Valhall?"
Forth then strode that mighty warrior and went toward the dais: nought