"Sooth is that," said the Elking; "and as to the mightiness of this folk and their customs, ye may gather somewhat from the songs which our House yet singeth, and which ye have heard wide about in the Mark; for this is the same folk of which a many of them tell, making up that story-lay which is called the South-Welsh Lay; which telleth how we have met this folk in times past when we were in fellowship with a folk of the Welsh of like customs to ourselves: for we of the Elkings were then but a feeble folk. So we marched with this folk of the Kymry and met the men of the cities, and whiles we overthrew and whiles were overthrown, but at last in a great battle were overthrown with so great a slaughter, that the red blood rose over the wheels of the wains, and the city-folk fainted with the work of the slaughter, as men who mow a match in the meadows when the swathes are dry and heavy and the afternoon of midsummer is hot; and there they stood and stared on the field of the slain, and knew not whether they were in Home or Hell, so fierce the fight had been." Therewith a man of the Beamings, who was riding on the other side of the Elking, reached out over his horse's neck and said: "Yea friend, but is there not some telling of a tale concerning how ye and your fellowship took the great city of the Welshmen of the South, and dwelt there long." "Yea," said the Elking, "Hearken how it is told in the South-Welsh Lay: "'Have ye not heard Of the ways of Weird? How the folk fared forth Far away from the North? And as light as one wendeth Whereas the wood endeth, When of nought is our need, And none telleth our deed, So Rodgeir unwearied and Reidfari wan The town where none tarried the shield-shaking man. All lonely the street there, and void was the way And nought hindered our feet but the dead men that lay Under shield in the lanes of the houses heavens-high, All the ring-bearing swains that abode there to die.' "Tells the Lay, that none abode the Goths and their fellowship, but such as were mighty enough to fall before them, and the rest, both man and woman, fled away before our folk and before the folk of the Kymry, and left their town for us to dwell in; as saith the Lay: "'Glistening of gold Did men's eyen behold; Shook the pale sword O'er the unspoken word, No man drew nigh us With weapon to try us, For the Welsh-wrought shield Lay low on the field. By man's hand unbuilded all seemed there to be, The walls ruddy gilded, the pearls of the sea: Yea all things were dead there save pillar and wall, But _they_ lived and _they_ said us the song of the hall; The dear hall left to perish by men of the land, For the Goth-folk to cherish with gold gaining hand.' "See ye how the Lay tells that the hall was bolder than the men, who fled from it, and left all for our fellowship to deal with in the days gone by?"