It was about three hours before noon that the Host began to enter into the pass out of Shadowy Vale by the river-side; and the women and children, and men unfightworthy, stood on the higher ground at the foot of the cliffs to see the Host wend on the way. Of these a many were of the Woodlanders, who were now one folk with them of Shadowy Vale. And all these had chosen to abide tidings in the Vale, deeming that there was little danger therein, since that last slaughter which Folk-might had made of the Dusky Men; albeit Face-of-god had offered to send them all to Burgstead with two score and ten men-at-arms to guard them by the way and to eke out the warders of the Burg.

Now the fighting-men of Shadowy Vale were two long hundreds lacking five; of whom two score and ten were women, and three score and ten lads under twenty winters; but the women, though you might scarce see fairer of face and body, were doughty in arms, all good shooters in the bow; and the swains were eager and light-foot, cragsmen of the best, wont to scaling the cliffs of the Vale in search of the nests of gerfalcons and such-like fowl, and swimming the strong streams of the Shivering Flood; tough bodies and wiry, stronger than most grown men, and as fearless as the best.

The order of the Departure of the Host was this:

The Woodlanders went first into the pass, and with them were two score of the ripe Warriors of the Wolf. Then came of the kindreds of Burgdale, the Men of the Steer, the Bridge, and the Bull; then the Men of the Vine and the Sickle; then the Shepherd-folk; and lastly, the Men of the Face led by Stone-face and Hall-face. With these went another two score of the dwellers in Shadowy Vale, and the rest were scattered up and down the bands of the Host to guide them into the best paths and to make the way easier to them. Face-of-god was sundered from his kindred, and went along with Folk-might in the forefront of the Host, while his father the Alderman went as a simple man-at-arms with his House in the rearward. The Sun-beam followed her brother and Face-of-god amidst the Warriors of the Wolf, and with her were Bow-may clad in the Alderman’s gift, and Wood-father and his children. Bow-may had caused her to doff her hauberk for that day, whereon they looked to fall in with no foeman. As for the Bride, she went with her kindred in all her war-gear; and the morning sun shone in the gems of her apparel, and her jewelled feet fell like flowers upon the deep grass of the upper Vale, and shone strange and bright amongst the black stones of the pass. She bore a quiver at her back and a shining yew bow in her hand, and went amongst the bowmen, for she was a very deft archer.

So fared they into the pass, leaving peace behind them, with all their banners displayed, and the banner of the Red-mouthed Wolf went with the Wolf and the Sun-burst in the forefront of their battle next after the two captains.

As for their road, the grassy space between the rock-wall and the water was wide and smooth at first, and the cliffs rose up like bundles of spear-shafts high and clear from the green grass with no confused litter of fallen stones; so that the men strode on briskly, their hearts high-raised and full of hope. And as they went, the sweetness of song stirred in their souls, and at last Bow-may fell to singing in a loud clear voice, and her cousin Wood-wise answered her, and all the warriors of the Wolf who were in their band fell into the song at the ending, and the sound of their melody went down the water and reached the ears of those that were entering the pass, and of those who were abiding till the way should be clear of them: and this is some of what they sang:

Bow-may singeth:

Hear ye never a voice come crying

Out from the waste where the winds fare wide?

‘Sons of the Wolf, the days are dying,

And where in the clefts of the rocks do ye hide?

‘Into your hands hath the Sword been given,

Hard are the palms with the kiss of the hilt;

Through the trackless waste hath the road been riven

For the blade to seek to the heart of the guilt.

‘And yet ye bide and yet ye tarry;

Dear deem ye the sleep ‘twixt hearth and board,

And sweet the maiden mouths ye marry,

And bright the blade of the bloodless sword.’

Wood-wise singeth:

Yea, here we dwell in the arms of our Mother

The Shadowy Queen, and the hope of the Waste;

Here first we came, when never another

Adown the rocky stair made haste.

Far is the foe, and no sword beholdeth

What deed we work and whither we wend;

Dear are the days, and the Year enfoldeth

The love of our life from end to end.

Voice of our Fathers, why will ye move us,

And call up the sun our swords to behold?

Why will ye cry on the foeman to prove us?

Why will ye stir up the heart of the bold?

Bow-may singeth:

Purblind am I, the voice of the chiding;

Then tell me what is the thing ye bear?

What is the gift that your hands are hiding,

The gold-adorned, the dread and dear?

Wood-wise singeth:

Dark in the sheath lies the Anvil’s Brother,

Hid is the hammered Death of Men.

Would ye look on the gift of the green-clad Mother?

How then shall ye ask for a gift again?

The Warriors sing:

Show we the Sunlight the Gift of the Mother,

As foot follows foot to the foeman’s den!

Gleam Sun, breathe Wind, on the Anvil’s Brother,

For bare is the hammered Death of Men.

Therewith they shook their naked swords in the air, and fared on eagerly, and as swiftly as the pass would have them fare. But so it was, that when the rearward of the Host was entering the first of the pass, and was going on the wide smooth sward, the vanward was gotten to where there was but a narrow space clear betwixt water and cliff; for otherwhere was a litter of great rocks and small, hard to be threaded even by those who knew the passes well; so that men had to tread along the very verge of the Shivering Flood, and wary must they be, for the water ran swift and deep be............