But whatever might happen nought could she do but sit in her place and
wend as the Sending Boat would; and in an hour’s space she was right
under the lee of the land, and she saw that it was shapen even as the
Isle of Nothing had been aforetime. But this made her wonder, that now
the grass grew thick down to the lip of the water, and all about from
the water up were many little slim trees, and some of them with the
May-tide blossom yet on them, as though it were a fair and great
orchard that she was nearing; and moreover, beyond all that she saw the
thatched roofs of houses rising up.
Presently then the Sending Boat had brought her to the land, and she
stepped ashore, but was wary, and gat her bow bent and set an arrow
thereto she began to go up from the water. Yet she thought within
herself, it will be nought ill if I be come amongst folk, so long as
they be peaceful, or else how might I live the journey out to all the
isles and so home to the House under the Wood?
So she turned her face to where she had seen those roofs, which now she
saw no longer because of the thick leaves of the little trees, and so
went along a narrow path, which grew to be more and more closely beset
with trees, and were now no longer apple and pear and quince and
medlar, but a young-grown thicket of woodland trees, as oak and
hornbeam and beech and holly.
At last as she went she heard voices before her, so she stole warily to
the edge of the copse, finger on shaft; and presently could see clear
of the saplings and out on to a wide space of greensward, beyond which
was a homestead of many houses and bowers, like unto that of a good
yeoman in peaceful lands, save that the main building was longer,
though it were low. But amidst the said greensward was a goodly flock
of sheep that had been but of late washed for the shearing, and along
with the sheep four folk, two carles and two queans, all of them in
their first youth, not one by seeming of over a score and two of
summers. These folk were clad but simply, man and woman, in short coats
of white woollen (but the women’s coats a little longer than the
men’s), without shoon or hosen; they had garlands of green leaves on
their heads, and were wholly unarmed, save that one of the men bore an
ashen wand in his hand. As for their bodies, they were goodly of
fashion, tanned indeed by the sun’s burning, but all sweet of flesh
were they, shapely and trim, clean-made, and light and slim.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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