CHAPTER XLVII. THE KINDREDS WIN THE MOTE-HOUSE.
The din and tumult still came from the north side of the Market-place, so that all the air was full of noise; and Face-of-god deemed that the thralls had gotten weapons into their hands and were slaying their masters.
Now he lifted up his face, and put his hand on Folk-might’s shoulder, and said in a loud voice:
‘Kinsmen, it were well if our brother were to bid the banners into the Mote-house of the Wolf, and let all the Host set itself in array before the said house, and abide till the chasers of the foe come to us thither; for I perceive that they are now become many, and are more than those of our kindred.’
Then Folk-might looked at him with kind eyes, and said:
‘Thou sayest well, brother; even so let it be!’
And he lifted up his swo
