cake smeared with dark honey, and squatted down again to her grinding.
Drem sat down with his back against the rowan-wood doorpost in the sunshine, and ate his wheaten cake, licking the golden dribble of sweetness round the edges, and watched Wenna scoop the grain from her basket into the hole in the upper stone of the quern, and the coarse creamy meal that came out between the two stones as she rubbed, on to the spread skin under the quern. Every now and then she stopped rubbing, and scooped up the meal into a crock beside her.Drem did not offer to help; it was woman’s work, and he was of the Men’s side, a hunter, and had made his first big kill.
The shadows were lengthening though it would not be evening for a long while yet, and Wenna had finished her grinding, and gone in again, carrying the baby with her on her hip, and Drem was alone before the house-place door, when at last Talore came home, driving a small, dispirited brown heifer calf on the end of a rope.
Drem scrambled up and went to meet him as he came up between the store shed and the woodstack, with the calf lurching from side to side on the end of the rope, and the three hounds loping at his heels.
‘Well?’ Talore said questioningly when he saw him, leaning back to check a sudden rush by the calf.
‘I have come for the cub,’ Drem said. ‘I can pay the price.’
Talore’s dark brows went up. ‘Where is it then? In the pot already?’
‘I could not bring it with me. It is too big.’
‘Have you killed a wild ox with your throw-spear?’ Talore’s voice deepened, as it always did with laughter; and the dog teeth showed at the corners of his mouth. ‘It was a bird I said, remember.’
‘It is a swan!’ Drem’s pride came rushing up into his throat. ‘A cob swan—big, big as a cloud!’
‘So? That is a kill indeed!’
They were all heading for the byre by now, and the calf had set up a dismal bawling. Drem nodded urgently. ‘Down in the Marsh, it is. I could not carry it, so I hid it and came back. I thought maybe—we could go for it—now.’ His voice trailed away a little, as it dawned on him that perhaps that was rather a lot to ask at the day’s end.
Talore glanced down at him, at the same time putting out a leg to fend the calf from a determined sideways rush in the wrong direction. He was tired, and wanted nothing but to sit down and stretch out his legs and polish his spears while hewaited for Wenna to make ready the evening meal. But looking at Drem’s proudly eager face with the doubt already beginning to shadow it, he said, ‘Let you help me to stall the calf, and then we will go down together and fetch this kill.’
They stalled the calf in the warm-shadowed byre, and left it to Wenna’s tending; and, in a little, were heading down again toward the Marsh, Talore loping ahead with the long, light stride of the hunter, the hounds and Drem close at his heels.
The blue summer dusk had deepened into the dark, and the white owl who lived in the shed of the Chieftain’s great herd bull was hawking to and fro like a silver shadow across the corn land, when they came up again towards the huddle of the village under the Hill of Gathering. Talore walked ahead as before, and Drem and the hounds padded at his heels; but now the hunter carried Drem’s swan on his shoulder, the great wings drooping wide behind him—pale, paler than the soft wings of the hunting owl in the darkness, or the white, wilting stars of the garlic spread on the hut roofs to dry.
The skin apron over the house-place doorway was drawn back, and a stain of light came to meet them, thick and golden like honey trickling from a tipped jar. Inside, the sons had returned from their hunting and were gathered about the hearth where the fire sank low, for the evening meal was long past, burnishing their weapons, while Wenna stitched at a piece of yellow cloth by the light of a mutton-fat lamp hanging from the roof tree.
There was another man sitting by the
Drem sat down with his back against the rowan-wood doorpost in the sunshine, and ate his wheaten cake, licking the golden dribble of sweetness round the edges, and watched Wenna scoop the grain from her basket into the hole in the upper stone of the quern, and the coarse creamy meal that came out between the two stones as she rubbed, on to the spread skin under the quern. Every now and then she stopped rubbing, and scooped up the meal into a crock beside her.Drem did not offer to help; it was woman’s work, and he was of the Men’s side, a hunter, and had made his first big kill.
The shadows were lengthening though it would not be evening for a long while yet, and Wenna had finished her grinding, and gone in again, carrying the baby with her on her hip, and Drem was alone before the house-place door, when at last Talore came home, driving a small, dispirited brown heifer calf on the end of a rope.
Drem scrambled up and went to meet him as he came up between the store shed and the woodstack, with the calf lurching from side to side on the end of the rope, and the three hounds loping at his heels.
‘Well?’ Talore said questioningly when he saw him, leaning back to check a sudden rush by the calf.
‘I have come for the cub,’ Drem said. ‘I can pay the price.’
Talore’s dark brows went up. ‘Where is it then? In the pot already?’
‘I could not bring it with me. It is too big.’
‘Have you killed a wild ox with your throw-spear?’ Talore’s voice deepened, as it always did with laughter; and the dog teeth showed at the corners of his mouth. ‘It was a bird I said, remember.’
‘It is a swan!’ Drem’s pride came rushing up into his throat. ‘A cob swan—big, big as a cloud!’
‘So? That is a kill indeed!’
They were all heading for the byre by now, and the calf had set up a dismal bawling. Drem nodded urgently. ‘Down in the Marsh, it is. I could not carry it, so I hid it and came back. I thought maybe—we could go for it—now.’ His voice trailed away a little, as it dawned on him that perhaps that was rather a lot to ask at the day’s end.
Talore glanced down at him, at the same time putting out a leg to fend the calf from a determined sideways rush in the wrong direction. He was tired, and wanted nothing but to sit down and stretch out his legs and polish his spears while hewaited for Wenna to make ready the evening meal. But looking at Drem’s proudly eager face with the doubt already beginning to shadow it, he said, ‘Let you help me to stall the calf, and then we will go down together and fetch this kill.’
They stalled the calf in the warm-shadowed byre, and left it to Wenna’s tending; and, in a little, were heading down again toward the Marsh, Talore loping ahead with the long, light stride of the hunter, the hounds and Drem close at his heels.
The blue summer dusk had deepened into the dark, and the white owl who lived in the shed of the Chieftain’s great herd bull was hawking to and fro like a silver shadow across the corn land, when they came up again towards the huddle of the village under the Hill of Gathering. Talore walked ahead as before, and Drem and the hounds padded at his heels; but now the hunter carried Drem’s swan on his shoulder, the great wings drooping wide behind him—pale, paler than the soft wings of the hunting owl in the darkness, or the white, wilting stars of the garlic spread on the hut roofs to dry.
The skin apron over the house-place doorway was drawn back, and a stain of light came to meet them, thick and golden like honey trickling from a tipped jar. Inside, the sons had returned from their hunting and were gathered about the hearth where the fire sank low, for the evening meal was long past, burnishing their weapons, while Wenna stitched at a piece of yellow cloth by the light of a mutton-fat lamp hanging from the roof tree.
There was another man sitting by the
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