And here on our threshold they stumbled and fell;
Here silent at even the steel-clad were lying,
And here were our mothers the story to tell.

Here then on the morn of the eve of the wedding
We pray to the Mighty that we too may bear
Such war-walls for warding of orchard and steading,
That the new days be merry as old days were dear.'


Therewith he made an end, and shouts and glad cries arose all about
the hall; and an old man arose and cried: 'A cup to the memory of
the Mighty of the Day of the Warding of the Ways.' For you must know
this song told of a custom of the Folk, held in memory of a time of
bygone battle, wherein they had overthrown a great host of aliens on
the Portway betwixt the river and the cliffs, two furlongs from the
gate of Burgstead. So now two weeks before Midsummer those maidens
who were presently to be wedded went early in the morning to that
place clad in very fair raiment, swords girt to their sides and
spears in their hands, and abode there on the highway from morn till
even as though they were a guard to it. And they made merry there,
singing songs and telling tales of times past: and at the sunsetting
their grooms came to fetch them away to the Feast of the Eve of the
Wedding.

While the song was a-singing Face-of-god took the Bride's hand in his
and caressed it, and was soft and blithe with her; and she reddened
and trembled for pleasure, and called to mind wedding feasts that had
been, and fair brides that she had seen thereat, and she forgot her
fears and her heart was at peace again.