CHAPTER XLVIII. MEN SING IN THE MOTE-HOUSE.
Then strode the Warriors of the Wolf over the bodies of the slain on to the daïs of their own Hall; and Folk-might led the Sun-beam by the hand, and now was his sword in its sheath, and his face was grown calm, though it was stern and sad. But even as he trod the daïs comes a slim swain of the Wolves twisting himself through the throng, and so maketh way to Folk-might, and saith to him:
‘Chieftain, the Alderman of Burgdale sendeth me hither to say a word to thee; even this, which I am to tell to thee and the War-leader both: It is most true that our kinswoman the Bride will not die, but live. So help me, the Warrior and the Face! This is the word of the Alderman.’
When Folk-might heard this, his face changed and he hung his head; and Face-of-g
