



Produced by Jeremy Woodburn






THE SUNDERING FLOOD

by

WILLIAM MORRIS

from

The Collected Works of William Morris
Volume XXI
The Sundering Flood
Unfinished Romances
Longmans Green and Company
Paternoster Row London
New York Bombay Calcutta
MDCCCCXIV



CONTENTS

Chapter I. Of a River Called the Sundering Flood, and of the Folk that
Dwelt Thereby

Chapter II. Of Wethermel and the Child Osberne

Chapter III. Wolves Harry the Flock

Chapter IV. Surly John Falls Out with the Goodman

Chapter V. Osberne Slays the Wolves

Chapter VI. They Fare to the Cloven Mote

Chapter VII. Of a Newcomer, and His Gift to Osberne

Chapter VIII. The Goodman Gets a New Hired Man

Chapter IX. The Bight of the Cloven Knoll

Chapter X. Osberne and Elfhild Hold Converse Together

Chapter XI. Osberne Shoots a Gift Across the Flood

Chapter XII. Of a Guest Called Waywearer

Chapter XIII. Steelhead Gives Osberne the Sword Boardcleaver

Chapter XIV. The Gifts of Steelhead

Chapter XV. Surly John Brings a Guest to Wethermel

Chapter XVI. Hardcastle Would Seize Wethermel

Chapter XVII. The Slaying of Hardcastle

Chapter XVIII. Elfhild Hears of the Slaying

Chapter XIX. The Winter Passes and Elfhild Tells of the Death of Her
Kinswoman

Chapter XX. Osberne Fares to Eastcheaping and Brings Gifts for Elfhild

Chapter XXI. Warriors from Eastcheaping Ride into the Dale

Chapter XXII. Osberne Takes Leave of Elfhild

Chapter XXIII. Osberne Is Chosen Captain of the Dalesmen

Chapter XXIV. A Skirmish with the Baron of Deepdale in the Marshes

Chapter XXV. Stephen Tells of an Adventure in the Camp of the Foemen

Chapter XXVI. They Bring the Baron into Eastcheaping

Chapter XXVII. They Parley from the Walls

Chapter XXVIII. The Baron of Deepdale Makes Peace

Chapter XXIX. Osberne and His Men Return to Wethermel

Chapter XXX. Osberne Goes to the Trysting-Place

Chapter XXXI. They Meet Through Autumn and Winter

Chapter XXXII. Foemen Among the West Dalers

Chapter XXXIII. Osberne Seeks Tidings of Elfhild

Chapter XXXIV. Osberne Sorrows for the Loss of Elfhild

Chapter XXXV. Osberne Seeks Counsel of Steelhead

Chapter XXXVI. The Staves which Osberne Taught to the Dalesmen

Chapter XXXVII. Osberne Takes Leave of Wethermel

Chapter XXXVIII. Osberne Parts from Stephen the Eater

Chapter XXXIX. Osberne Gets Him a New Master

Chapter XL. Osberne Rides with Sir Godrick

Chapter XLI. They Joust with the Knight of the Fish

Chapter XLII. They Deliver the Thorp-Dwellers from the Black Skinners

Chapter XLIII. They Come to the Edge of the Wood Masterless

Chapter XLIV. They Reach Longshaw and Osberne Gets Him a New Name

Chapter XLV. The Red Lad Scatters the Host of the Barons

Chapter XLVI. Osberne Enters the City of the Sundering Flood

Chapter XLVII. The Battle in the Square

Chapter XLVIII. Sir Godrick Is Chosen Burgreve of the City

Chapter XLIX. Of the City King and the Outland King

Chapter L. The Red Lad Speaks Privily with Sir Godrick

Chapter LI. Osberne is Beguiled by Felons

Chapter LII. The Meeting of Osberne and Elfhild

Chapter LIII. Strangers Come to Wethermel

Chapter LIV. The Carline Beginneth Her Tale

Chapter LV. The Blue Knight Buys the Maiden of the Chapman

Chapter LVI. The Blue Knight Talks with the Maiden by the Way

Chapter LVII. They Come to Brookside

Chapter LVIII. Peaceful Days in the Castle of Brookside

Chapter LIX. Tidings of Longshaw and of the Hosting of the Barons'
League

Chapter LX. The Blue Knight Gathers Men and Departs from Brookside

Chapter LXI. The Maiden and the Carline Flee to the Grey Sisters

Chapter LXII. They Fall in with Three Chapmen

Chapter LXIII. They Escape from the Chapmen by the Carline's Wizardry

Chapter LXIV. The Carline Endeth Her Tale

Chapter LXV. Osberne and Elfhild Make Themselves Known to Their People

Chapter LXVI. The Lip of the Sundering Flood

Chapter LXVII. A Friend at Need

Chapter LXVIII. The Knight of Longshaw Gathereth Force



ILLUSTRATIONS

Map of the country of the Sundering Flood



THE SUNDERING FLOOD

Chapter I. Of a River Called the Sundering Flood, and of the Folk that
Dwelt Thereby

It is told that there was once a mighty river which ran south into the
sea, and at the mouth thereof was a great and rich city, which had
been builded and had waxed and thriven because of the great and most
excellent haven which the river aforesaid made where it fell into the
sea. And now it was like looking at a huge wood of barked and
smoothened fir-trees when one saw the masts of the ships that lay in
the said haven.

But up in this river ran the flood of tide a long way, so that the
biggest of dromonds and round-ships might fare up it, and oft they lay
amid pleasant up-country places, with their yards all but touching the
windows of the husbandman's stead, and their bowsprits thrusting forth
amongst the middens, and the routing swine, and querulous hens. And
the uneasy lads and lasses sitting at high-mass of the Sunday in the
grey church would see the tall masts amidst the painted saints of the
aisle windows, and their minds would wander from the mass-hackled
priest and the words and the gestures of him, and see visions of far
countries and outlandish folk, and some would be heart-smitten with
that desire of wandering and looking on new things which so oft the
sea-beat board and the wind-strained pine bear with them to the
dwellings of the stay-at-homes: and to some it seemed as if, when they
went from out the church, they should fall in with St. Thomas of India
stepping over the gangway, and come to visit their uplandish Christmas
and the Yule-feast of the field-abiders of midwinter frost. And
moreover, when the tide failed, and there was no longer a flood to
bear the sea-going keels up-stream (and that was hard on an hundred of
miles from the sea), yet was this great river a noble and
wide-spreading water, and the downlong stream thereof not so heavy nor
so fierce but that the barges and lesser keels might well spread their
sails when the south-west blew, and fare on without beating; or if the
wind were fouler for them, they that were loth to reach from shore to
shore might be tracked up by the draught of horses and bullocks, and
bear the wares of the merchants to many a cheaping.

Other rivers moreover not a few fell into this main flood, and of the
some were no lesser than the Thames is at Abingdon, where I, who
gathered this tale, dwell in the House of the Black Canons; blessed be
St. William, and St. Richard, and the Holy Austin our candle in the
dark! Yea and some were even bigger, so that the land was well
furnished both of fisheries and water-ways.

Now the name of this river was the Sundering Flood, and the city at
the mouth thereof was called the City of the Sundering Flood. And it
is no wonder, considering all that I have told concerning the wares
and chaffer that it bore up-country, though the folk of the City and
its lands (and the city-folk in special) knew no cause for this name.
Nay, oft they jested and gibed and gabbed, for they loved their river
much and were proud of it; wherefore they said it was no sunderer but
a uniter; that it joined land to land and shore to shore; that it had
peopled the wilderness and made the waste places blossom, and that no
highway for wheels and beasts in all the land was so full of blessings
and joys as was their own wet Highway of the Flood. Nevertheless, as
meseemeth that no name is given to any town or mountain or river
causeless, but that men are moved to name all steads for a remembrance
of deeds that have been done and tidings that have befallen, or some
due cause, even so might it well be with the Sundering Flood, and
whereas also I wot something of that cause I shall now presently show
you the same.

For ye must know that all this welfare of the said mighty river was
during that while that it flowed through the plain country anigh the
city, or the fertile pastures and acres of hill and dale and down
further to the north. But one who should follow it up further and
further would reach at last the place where it came forth from the
mountains. There, though it be far smaller than lower down, yet is it
still a mighty great water, and it is then well two hundred miles from
the main sea. Now from the mountains it cometh in three great forces,
and many smaller ones, and perilous and awful it is to behold; for
betwixt those forces it filleth all the mountain ghyll, and there is
no foothold for man, nay for goat, save at a hundred foot or more
above the water, and that evil and perilous; and is the running of a
winter millstream to the beetles and shrew-mice that haunt the
greensward beside it, so is the running of that flood to the sons of
Adam and the beasts that serve them: and none has been so bold as to
strive to cast a bridge across it.

But when ye have journeyed with much toil and no little peril over the
mountain-necks (for by the gorge of the river, as aforesaid, no man
may go) and have come out of the mountains once more, then again ye
have the flood before you, cleaving a great waste of rocks mingled
with sand, where groweth neither tree nor bush nor grass; and now the
flood floweth wide and shallow but swift, so that no words may tell of
its swiftness, and on either side the water are great wastes of
tumbled stones that the spates have borne down from the higher ground.
And ye shall know that from this place upward to its very wells in the
higher mountains, the flood decreaseth not much in body or might,
though it be wider or narrower as it is shallower or deeper, for
nought but mere trickles of water fall into it in the space of this
sandy waste, and what feeding it hath is from the bents and hills on
either side as you wend toward the mountains to the north, where, as
aforesaid, are its chiefest wells.

Now when ye have journeyed over this waste for some sixty miles, the
land begins to better, and there is grass again, yet no trees, and it
rises into bents, which go back on each side, east and west, from the
Flood, and the said bents are grass also up to the tops, where they
are crested with sheer rocks black of colour. As for the Flood itself,
it is now gathered into straiter compass, and is deep, and exceeding
strong; high banks it hath on either side thereof of twenty foot and
upward of black rock going down sheer to the water; and thus it is for
a long way, save that the banks be higher and higher as the great
valley of the river rises toward the northern mountains.

But as it rises the land betters yet, and is well grassed, and in
divers nooks and crannies groweth small wood of birch and whiles of
quicken tree; but ever the best of the grass waxeth nigh unto the lips
of the Sundering Flood, where it rises a little from the Dale to the
water; and what little acre-land there is, and it is but little, is up
on knolls that lie nearer to the bent, and be turned somewhat
southward; or on the east side of the Flood (which runneth here nigh
due north to south), on the bent-side itself, where, as it windeth and
turneth, certain <DW72>s lie turned to southwest. And in these places
be a few garths, fenced against the deer, wherein grow rye, and some
little barley whereof to make malt for beer and ale, whereas the folk
of this high-up windy valley may have no comfort of wine. And it is to
be said that ever is that land better and the getting more on the east
side of the Sundering Flood than on the west.

As to the folk of this land, they are but few even now, and belike
were fewer yet in the time of my tale. There was no great man amongst
them, neither King, nor Earl, nor Alderman, and it had been hard
living for a strong-thief in the Dale. Yet folk there were both on the
east side and the west of the Flood. On neither side were they utterly
cut off from the world outside the Dale; for though it were toilsome,
it was not perilous to climb the bents and so wend over the necks east
and west, where some forty miles from the west bank and fifty from the
east you might come down into a valley fairly well peopled, wherein
were two or three cheaping-towns: and to these towns the dalesmen had
some resort, that they might sell such of their wool as they needed
not to weave for themselves, and other small chaffer, so that they
might buy wrought wares such as cutlery and pots, and above all boards
and timber, whereof they had nought at home.

But this you must wot and understand, that howsoever the Sundering
Flood might be misnamed down below, up in the Dale and down away to
the southern mountains it was such that better named it might not be,
and that nought might cross its waters undrowned save the fowl flying.
Nay, and if one went up-stream to where it welled forth from the great
mountains, he were no nearer to passing from one side to the other,
for there would be nought before him but a wall of sheer rock, and
above that rent and tumbled crags, the safe strong-houses of erne and
osprey and gerfalcon. Wherefore all the dealings which the folk on the
east Dale and the west might have with each other was but shouting and
crying across the swirling and gurgling eddies of the black water,
which themselves the while seemed to be talking together in some dread
and unknown tongue.

True it is that on certain feast days and above all on Midsummer
night, the folk would pluck up a heart, and gather together as gaily
clad as might be where the Flood was the narrowest (save at one place,
whereof more hereafter), and there on each side would trundle the
fire-wheel, and do other Midsummer games, and make music of
string-play and horns, and sing songs of old time and drink to each
other, and depart at last to their own homes blessing each other. But
never might any man on the east touch the hand of any on the west,
save it were that by some strange wandering from the cheaping-towns
aforesaid they might meet at last, far and far off from the Dale of
the Sundering Flood.



Chapter II. Of Wethermel and the Child Osberne

Draw we nigher now to the heart of our tale, and tell how on the east
side of the Sundering Flood was erewhile a stead hight Wethermel: a
stead more lonely than most even in that Dale, the last house but one,
and that was but a cot, toward the mountains at the head of the Dale.
It was not ill set down, for its houses stood beneath a low spreading
knoll, the broader side whereof was turned to the south-west, and
where by consequence was good increase of corn year by year. The said
knoll of Wethermel was amidst of the plain of the Dale a mile from the
waterside, and all round about it the pasture was good for kine and
horses and sheep all to the water's lip on the west and half way up
the bent on the east; while towards the crown of the bent was a wood
of bushes good for firewood and charcoal, and even beyond the crown of
the bent was good sheep-land a long way.

Nevertheless, though its land was fruitful as for that country, yet
had Wethermel no great name for luck, and folk who had the choice
would liever dwell otherwhere, so that it was hard for the goodman to
get men to work there for hire. Many folk deemed that this ill-luck
came because the knoll had been of old time a dwelling of the Dwarfs
or the Land-wights, and that they grudged it that the children of Adam
had supplanted them, and that corn grew on the very roof of their
ancient house. But however that might be, there was little thriving
there for the most part: and at least it was noted by some, that if
there were any good hap, it ever missed one generation, and went not
from father to son, but from grandsire to grandson: and even so it was
now at the beginning of this tale.

For he who had been master of Wethermel had died a young man, and his
wife followed him in a month or two, and there was left in the house
but the father and mother of these twain, hale and stout folk, he of
fifty winters, she of forty-five; an old woman of seventy, a kinswoman
of the house who had fostered the late goodman; and a little lad who
had to name Osberne, now twelve winters old, a child strong and bold,
tall, bright and beauteous. These four were all the folk of Wethermel,
save now and then a hired man who was hard pressed for livelihood
would be got to abide there some six months or so. It must be told
further that there was no house within ten miles either up or down the
water on that side, save the little cot abovesaid nigher to the
mountains, and that was four miles up-stream; it hight Burcot, and was
somewhat kenspeckle. Withal as to those Cloven Motes, as they were
called, which were between the folk on either side, they were holden
at a stead seven miles below Wethermel. So that in all wise was it a
lonely and scantly-manned abode: and because of this every man on the
stead must work somewhat hard and long day by day, and even Osberne
the little lad must do his share; and up to this time we tell of, his
work was chiefly about the houses, or else it was on the knoll, or
round about it, scaring fowl from the corn; weeding the acre-ground,
or tending the old horses that fed near the garth; or goose-herding at
whiles. Forsooth, the two elders, who loved and treasured the little
carle exceedingly, were loth to trust him far out of sight because of
his bold heart and wilful spirit; and there were perils in the Dale,
and in special at that rough and wild end of thereof, though they came
not from weaponed reivers for the more part, though now and again some
desperate outcast from the thicker peopled lands had strayed into it;
and there was talk from time to time of outlaws who lay out over the
mountain-necks, and might not always do to lack a sheep or a neat or a
horse. Other perils more of every-day there were for a young child, as
the deep and hurrying stream of the Sundering Flood, and the wolves
which haunted the bent and the foothills of the mountains; and ever
moreover there was the peril from creatures seldom seen, Dwarfs and
Land-wights to wit, who, as all tales told, might be well pleased to
have away into their realm so fair a child of the sons of Adam as was
this Osberne.

Forsooth for the most part the lad kept within bounds, for love's sake
rather than fear, though he wotted well that beating abode
bound-breaking; but ye may well wot that this quietness might not
always be. And one while amongst others he was missing for long, and
when his grandsire sought him he found him at last half way between
grass and water above the fierce swirling stream of the river; for he
had clomb down the sheer rock of the bank, which all along the water
is fashioned into staves, as it were organ-pipes, but here and there
broken by I wot not what mighty power. There then was my lad in an
ingle-nook of the rock, and not able either to go down or come up,
till the goodman let a rope down to him and hauled him on to the
grass.

Belike he was a little cowed by the peril, and the beating he got for
putting his folk in such fear; but though he was somewhat moved by his
grandam's tears and lamentations over him, and no less by the old
carline's bewailing for his days that he would so surely shorten, yet
this was not by a many the last time he strayed from the stead away
into peril. On a time he was missing again nightlong, but in the
morning came into the house blithe and merry, but exceeding hungry,
and when the good man asked him where he had been and bade him
whipping-cheer, he said that he cared little if beaten were he, so
merry a time he had had; for he had gone a long way up the Dale, and
about twilight (this was in mid-May) had fallen in with a merry lad
somewhat bigger than himself, who had shown him many merry plays, and
at last had brought him to his house, "which is not builded of stone
and turf, like to ours," saith he, "but is in a hole in the rock; and
there we wore away the night, and there was no one there but we two,
and again he showed me more strange plays, which were wondrous; but
some did frighten me."

Then his grandsire asked him what like those plays were. Said Osberne:
"He took a stone and stroked it, and mumbled, and it turned into a
mouse, and played with us nought afraid a while; but presently it grew
much bigger, till it was bigger than a hare; and great game meseemed
that was, till on a sudden it stood on its hind-legs, and lo it was
become a little child, and O, but so much littler than I; and then it
ran away from us into the dark, squealing the while like a mouse
behind the panel, only louder. Well, thereafter, my playmate took a
big knife, and said: 'Now, drudgling, I shall show thee a good game
indeed.' And so he did, for he set the edge of the said knife against
his neck, and off came his head; but there came no blood, nor did he
tumble down, but took up his head and stuck it on again, and then he
stood crowing like our big red cock. Then he said: 'Poultry, cockerel,
now I will do the like by thee.' And he came to me with the knife; but
I was afraid, and gat hold of his hand and had the knife from him; and
then I wrestled with him and gave him a fall; but I must needs let him
get up again presently, whereas he grew stronger under my hand; then
he thrust me from him and laughed exceeding much, and said: 'Here is a
champion come into my house forsooth! Well, I will leave thine head on
thy shoulders, for belike I might not be able to stick it on again,
which were a pity of thee, for a champion shalt thou verily be in the
days to come.' After this all his play with me was to sit down and bid
me hearken; and then he took out a little pipe, and put it to his
mouth, and made music out of it, which was both sweet and merry. And
then he left that, and fell to telling me tales about the woods where
big trees grow, and how his kindred had used to dwell therein, and
fashioned most fair things in smith's work of gold and silver and
iron; and all this liked me well; and he said: 'I tell thee that one
day thou shalt have a sword of my father's father's fashioning, and
that will be an old one, for they both were long-lived.' And as he
spake I deemed that he was not like a child any more, but a little,
little old man, white-haired and wrinkle-faced, but without a beard,
and his hair shone like glass. And then--I went to sleep, and when I
woke up again it was morning, and I looked around and there was no one
with me. So I arose and came home to you, and I am safe and sound if
thou beat me not, kinsman."

Now ye may judge if his fore-elders were not scared by the lad's tale,
for they knew that he had fallen in with one of the Dwarf-kin, and his
grandam caught him up and hugged him and kissed him well favouredly;
and the carline, whose name was Bridget, followed on the like road;
and then she said: "See you, kinsmen, if it be not my doing that the
blessed bairn has come back to us. Tell us, sweetheart, what thou hast
round thy neck under thy shirt." Osberne laughed. Said he: "Thou didst
hang on me a morsel of parchment with signs drawn thereon, and it is
done in a silk bag. Fear not, foster-mother, but that I will wear it
yet, since thou makest such to-do over it."

"Ah! the kind lad thou art, my dear," said the carline. "I will tell
you, kinsmen, that I had that said parchment from our priest, and it
is strong neckguard against all evil things, for on it is scored the
Holy Rood, and thereon are the names of the three Holy Kings, and
other writing withal which I may not read, for it is clerks' Latin."
And again the two women made much of the little lad, while the goodman
stood by grumbling and grunting; but this time did Osberne escape his
beating, though he was promised a drubbing which should give him much
to think on if he went that way again; and the women prayed and
besought him to be obedient to the goodman herein.

But one thing he had not told his kinsfolk, to wit, that the Dwarf had
given him for a gift that same knife wherewith he had played the game
of heads-off, and a fair sheath went with it, and he had done him to
wit that most like luck would go with it. Wherefore little Osberne had
the said knife hidden under his raiment, along with the parchment
whereon was scored the Holy Rood and the good words of wisdom written.



Chapter III. Wolves Harry the Flock

Now these matters, and other strayings and misdoings of the youngling,
befel before the time whereof I now tell, when he was, as aforesaid,
passed of twelve years; and it was in latter autumn, when the nights
are lengthening. At this time there was a hired man dwelling with
them, whose work it was to drive the sheep afield, either up on to the
eastern bents or away off down to the water, so as they might not eat
the grass of the kine from them. But Osberne, both of his own will and
at the bidding of the goodman, went off afield with this man John and
helped him to keep the sheep from straying over-far. Now one day at
evening, somewhat later than he was wont, when, as it chanced, Osberne
had not fared with him, back comes John from the bents, and he looked
scared and pale, and he tells the tale that as the light began to fail
up there, three huge wolves fell upon the sheep, and slew sundry of
them, and it was easy to be seen of him that he had held no very close
battle with the wolves, but had stood aloof till they had done their
supper, and then gathered what he could of the sheep without going
over-near the field of deed. The goodman berated him for his
cowardice, and seemed to begrudge him his victuals somewhat that
night, whereas, what with them