Produced by Tom Harris
THE SWORD OF WELLERAN AND OTHER STORIES
By Lord Dunsany
Author of "Time and the Gods," etc.
DEDICATED
with deep gratitude to those few, known to me or unknown,who have cared for either of my former books, "The Gods ofPegana," "Time and the Gods."
The Sword of Welleran
Where the great plain of Tarphet runs up, as the sea in estuaries,among the Cyresian mountains, there stood long since the city ofMerimna well-nigh among the shadows of the crags. I have never seena city in the world so beautiful as Merimna seemed to me when firstI dreamed of it. It was a marvel of spires and figures of bronze,and marble fountains, and trophies of fabulous wars, and broadstreets given over wholly to the Beautiful. Right through thecentre of the city there went an avenue fifty strides in width, andalong each side of it stood likenesses in bronze of the Kings of allthe countries that the people of Merimna had ever known. At the endof that avenue was a colossal chariot with three bronze horsesdriven by the winged figure of Fame, and behind her in the chariotthe huge form of Welleran, Merimna's ancient hero, standing withextended sword. So urgent was the mien and attitude of Fame, and soswift the pose of the horses, that you had sworn that the chariotwas instantly upon you, and that its dust already veiled the facesof the Kings. And in the city was a mighty hall wherein were storedthe trophies of Merimna's heroes. Sculptured it was and domed, theglory of the art of masons a long while dead, and on the summit ofthe dome the image of Rollory sat gazing across the Cyresianmountains towards the wide lands beyond, the lands that knew hissword. And beside Rollory, like an old nurse, the figure of Victorysat, hammering into a golden wreath of laurels for his head thecrowns of fallen Kings.
Such was Merimna, a city of sculptured Victories and warriors ofbronze. Yet in the time of which I write the art of war had beenforgotten in Merimna, and the people almost slept. To and fro andup and down they would walk through the marble streets, gazing atmemorials of the things achieved by their country's swords in thehands of those that long ago had loved Merimna well. Almost theyslept, and dreamed of Welleran, Soorenard, Mommolek, Rollory,Akanax, and young Iraine. Of the lands beyond the mountains thatlay all round about them they knew nothing, save that they were thetheatre of the terrible deeds of Welleran, that he had done with hissword. Long since these lands had fallen back into the possessionof the nations that had been scourged by Merimna's armies. Nothingnow remained to Merimna's men save their inviolate city and theglory of the remembrance of their ancient fame. At night they wouldplace sentinels far out in the desert, but these always slept attheir posts dreaming of Rollory, and three times every night a guardwould march around the city clad in purple, bearing lights andsinging songs of Welleran. Always the guard went unarmed, but as thesound of their song went echoing across the plain towards thelooming mountains, the desert robbers would hear the name ofWelleran and steal away to their haunts. Often dawn would comeacross the plain, shimmering marvellously upon Merimna's spires,abashing all the stars, and find the guard still singing songs ofWelleran, and would change the colour of their purple robes and palethe lights they bore. But the guard would go back leaving theramparts safe, and one by one the sentinels in the plain would awakefrom dreaming of Rollory and shuffle back into the city quite cold.Then something of the menace would pass away from the faces of theCyresian mountains, that from the north and the west and the southlowered upon Merimna, and clear in the morning the statues and thepillars would arise in the old inviolate city. You would wonder thatan unarmed guard and sentinels that slept could defend a city thatwas stored with all the glories of art, that was rich in gold andbronze, a haughty city that had erst oppressed its neighbours, whosepeople had forgotten the art of war. Now this is the reason that,though all her other lands had long been taken from her, Merimna'scity was safe. A strange thing was believed or feared by the fiercetribes beyond the mountains, and it was credited among them that atcertain stations round Merimna's ramparts there still rode Welleran,Soorenard, Mommolek, Rollory, Akanax, and young Iraine. Yet it wasclose on a hundred years since Iraine, the youngest of Merimna'sheroes, fought his last battle with the tribes.
Sometimes indeed there arose among the tribes young men who doubtedand said: 'How may a man for ever escape death?'
But graver men answered them: 'Hear us, ye whose wisdom hasdiscerned so much, and discern for us how a man may escape deathwhen two score horsemen assail him with their swords, all of themsworn to kill him, and all of them sworn upon their country's gods;as often Welleran hath. Or discern for us how two men alone mayenter a walled city by night, and bring away from it that city'sking, as did Soorenard and Mommolek. Surely men that have escapedso many swords and so many sleety arrows shall escape the years andTime.'
And the young men were humbled and became silent. Still, thesuspicion grew. And often when the sun set on the Cyresianmountains, men in Merimna discerned the forms of savage tribesmenblack against the light, peering towards the city.
All knew in Merimna that the figures round the ramparts were onlystatues of stone, yet even there a hope lingered among a few thatsome day their old heroes would come again, for certainly none hadever seen them die. Now it had been the wont of these six warriorsof old, as each received his last wound and knew it to be mortal, toride away to a certain deep ravine and cast his body in, assomewhere I have read great elephants do, hiding their bones awayfrom lesser beasts. It was a ravine steep and narrow even at theends, a great cleft into which no man could come by any path. Thererode Welleran alone, panting hard; and there later rode Soorenardand Mommolek, Mommolek with a mortal wound upon him not to return,but Soorenard was unwounded and rode back alone from leaving hisdear friend resting among the mighty bones of Welleran. And thererode Soorenard, when his day was come, with Rollory and Akanax, andRollory rode in the middle and Soorenard and Akanax on either side.And the long ride was a hard and weary thing for Soorenard andAkanax, for they both had mortal wounds; but the long ride was easyfor Rollory, for he was dead. So the bones of these five heroeswhitened in an enemy's land, and very still they were, though theyhad troubled cities, and none knew where they lay saving onlyIraine, the young captain, who was but twenty-five when Mommolek,Rollory, and Akanax rode away. And among them were strewn theirsaddles and their bridles, and all the accoutrements of theirhorses, lest any man should ever find them afterwards and say insome foreign city: 'Lo! the bridles or the saddles of Merimna'scaptains, taken in war,' but their beloved trusty horses they turnedfree.
Forty years afterwards, in the hour of a great victory, his lastwound came upon Iraine, and the wound was terrible and would notclose. And Iraine was the last of the captains, and rode awayalone. It was a long way to the dark ravine, and Iraine feared thathe would never come to the resting-place of the old heroes, and heurged his horse on swiftly, and clung to the saddle with his hands.And often as he rode he fell asleep, and dreamed of earlier days,and of the times when he first rode forth to the great wars ofWelleran, and of the time when Welleran first spake to him, and ofthe faces of Welleran's comrades when they led charges in thebattle. And ever as he awoke a great longing arose in his soul asit hovered on his body's brink, a longing to lie among the bones ofthe old heroes. At last when he saw the dark ravine making a scaracross the plain, the soul of Iraine slipped out through his greatwound and spread its wings, and pain departed from the poor hackedbody, and, still urging his horse forward, Iraine died. But the oldtrue horse cantered on till suddenly he saw before him the darkravine and put his forefeet out on the very edge of it and stopped.Then the body of Iraine came toppling forward over the rightshoulder of the hor
se, and his bones mingle and rest as the years goby with the bones of Merimna's heroes.
Now there was a little boy in Merimna named Rold. I saw him first,I, the dreamer, that sit before my fire asleep, I saw him first ashis mother led him through the great hall where stand the trophiesof Merimna's heroes. He was five years old, and they stood beforethe great glass casket wherein lay the sword of Welleran, and hismother said: 'The sword of Welleran.' And Rold said: 'What should aman do with the sword of Welleran?' And his mother answered: 'Menlook at the sword and remember Welleran.' And they went on andstood before the great red cloak of Welleran, and the child said:'Why did Welleran wear this great red cloak?' And his motheranswered: 'It was the way of Welleran.'
When Rold was a little older he stole out of his mother's housequite in the middle of the night when all the world was still, andMerimna asleep dreaming of Welleran, Soorenard, Mommolek, Rollory,Akanax, and young Iraine. And he went down to the ramparts to hearthe purple guard go by singing of Welleran. And the purple guardcame by with lights, all singing in the stillness, and dark shapesout in the desert turned and fled. And Rold went back again to hismother's house with a great yearning towards the name of Welleran,such as men feel for very holy things.
And in time Rold grew to know the pathway all round the ramparts,and the six equestrian statues that were there guarding Merimnastill. These statues were not like other statues, they were socunningly wrought of many-coloured marbles that none might be quitesure until very close that they were not living men. There was ahorse of dappled marble, the horse of Akanax. The horse of Rollorywas of alabaster, pure white, his armour was wrought out of a stonethat shone, and his horseman's cloak was made of a blue stone, veryprecious. He looked northwards.
But the marble horse of Welleran was pure black, and there satWelleran upon him looking solemnly westwards. His horse it waswhose cold neck Rold most loved to stroke, and it was Welleran whomthe watchers at sunset on the mountains the most clearly saw as theypeered towards the city. And Rold loved the red nostrils of thegreat black horse and his rider's jasper cloak.
Now beyond the Cyresians the suspicion grew that Merimna's heroeswere dead, and a plan was devised that a man should go by night andcome close to the figures upon the ramparts and see whether theywere Welleran, Soorenard, Mommolek, Rollory, Akanax, and youngIraine. And all were agreed upon the plan, and many names werementioned of those who should go, and the plan matured for manyyears. It was during these years that watchers clustered often atsunset upon the mountains but came no nearer. Finally, a betterplan was made, and it was decided that two men who had been bychance condemned to death should be given a pardon if they went downinto the plain by night and discovered whether or not Merimna'sheroes lived. At first the two prisoners dared not go, but after awhile one of them, Seejar, said to his companion, Sajar-Ho: 'Seenow, when the King's axeman smites a man upon the neck that mandies.'
And the other said that this was so. Then said Seejar: 'And eventhough Welleran smite a man with his sword no more befalleth himthan death.'
Then Sajar-Ho thought for a while. Presently he said: 'Yet the eyeof the King's axeman might err at the moment of his stroke or hisarm fail him, and the eye of Welleran hath never erred nor his armfailed. It were better to bide here.'
Then said Seejar: 'Maybe that Welleran is dead and that some otherholds his place upon the ramparts, or even a statue of stone.'
But Sajar-Ho made answer: 'How can Welleran be dead when he evenescaped from two score horsemen with swords that were sworn to slayhim, and all sworn upon our country's gods?'
And Seejar said: 'This story his father told my grandfatherconcerning Welleran. On the day that the fight was lost on theplains of Kurlistan he saw a dying horse near to the river, and thehorse looked piteously towards the water but could not reach it.And the father of my grandfather saw Welleran go down to the river'sbrink and bring water from it with his own hand and give it to thehorse. Now we are in as sore a plight as was that horse, and asnear to death; it may be that Welleran will pity us, while theKing's axeman cannot because of the commands of the King.'
Then said Sajar-Ho: 'Thou wast ever a cunning arguer. Thoubroughtest us into this trouble with thy cunning and thy devices, wewill see if thou canst bring us out of it. We will go.'
So news was brought to the King that the two prisoners would go downto Merimna.
That evening the watchers led them to the mountain's edge, andSeejar and Sajar-Ho went down towards the plain by the way of a deepravine, and the watchers watched them go. Presently their figureswere wholly hid in the dusk. Then night came up, huge and holy, outof waste marshes to the eastwards and low lands and the sea; and theangels that watched over all men through the day closed their greateyes and slept, and the angels that watched over all men through thenight awoke and ruffled their deep blue feathers and stood up andwatched. But the plain became a thing of mystery filled with fears.So the two spies went down the deep ravine, and coming to the plainsped stealthily across it. Soon they came to the line of sentinelsasleep upon the sand, and one stirred in his sleep calling onRollory, and a great dread seized upon the spies and they whispered'Rollory lives,' but they remembered the King's axeman and went on.And next they came to the great bronze statue of Fear, carved bysome sculptor of the old glorious years in the attitude of flighttowards the mountains, calling to her children as she fled. And thechildren of Fear were carved in the likeness of the armies of allthe trans-Cyresian tribes with their backs towards Merimna, flockingafter Fear. And from where he sat on his horse behind the rampartsthe sword of Welleran was stretched out over their heads as ever itwas wont. And the two spies kneeled down in the sand and kissed thehuge bronze foot of the statue of Fear, saying: 'O Fear, Fear.' Andas they knelt they saw lights far off along the ramparts comingnearer and nearer, and heard men singing of Welleran. And thepurple guard came nearer and went by with their lights, and passedon into the distance round the ramparts still singing of Welleran.And all the while the two spies clung to the foot of the statue,muttering: 'O Fear, Fear.' But when they could hear the name ofWelleran no more they arose and came to the ramparts and climbedover them and came at once upon the figure of Welleran, and theybowed low to the ground, and Seejar said: 'O Welleran, we came tosee whether thou didst yet live.' And for a long while they waitedwith their faces to the earth. At last Seejar looked up towardsWelleran's terrible sword, and it was still stretched out pointingto the carved armies that followed after Fear. And Seejar bowed tothe ground again and touched the horse's hoof, and it seemed cold tohim. And he moved his hand higher and touched the leg of the horse,and it seemed quite cold. At last he touched Welleran's foot, andthe armour on it seemed hard and stiff. Then as Welleran moved notand spake not, Seejar climbed up at last and touched his hand, theterrible hand of Welleran, and it was marble. Then Seejar laughedaloud, and he and Sajar-Ho sped down the empty pathway and foundRollory, and he was marble too. Then they climbed down over theramparts and went back across the plain, walking contemptuously pastthe figure of Fear, and heard the guard returning round the rampartsfor the third time, singing of Welleran; and Seejar said: 'Ay, youmay sing of Welleran, but Welleran is dead and a doom is on yourcity.'
And they passed on and found the sentinel still restless in thenight and calling on Rollory. And Sajar-Ho muttered: 'Ay, you maycall on Rollory, but Rollory is dead and naught can save your city.'
And the two spies went back alive to their mountains again, and asthey reached them the first ray of the sun came up red over thedesert behind Merimna and lit Merimna's spires. It was the hourwhen the purple guard were wont to go back into the city with theirtapers pale and their robes a brighter colour, when the coldsentinels came shuffling in from dreaming in the desert; it was thehour when the desert robbers hid themselves away, going back totheir mountain caves; it was the hour when gauze-winged insects areborn that only live for a day; it was the hour when men die that arecondemned to death; and in this hour a great peril, new a
ndterrible, arose for Merimna and Merimna knew it not.
Then Seejar turning said: 'See how red the dawn is and how red thespires of Merimna. They are angry with Merimna in Paradise and theybode its doom.'
So the two spies went back and brought the news to their King, andfor a few days the Kings of those countries were gathering theirarmies together; and one evening the armies of four Kings weremassed together at the top of the deep ravine, all crouching belowthe summit waiting for the sun to set. All wore resolute andfearless faces, yet inwardly every man was praying to his gods, untoeach one in turn.
Then the sun set, and it was the hour when the bats and the darkcreatures are abroad and the lions come down from their lairs, andthe desert robbers go into the plains again, and fevers rise upwinged and hot out of chill marshes, and it was the hour when safetyleaves the thrones of Kings, the hour when dynasties change. But inthe desert the purple guard came swinging out of Merimna with theirlights to sing of Welleran, and the sentinels lay down to sleep.
Now into Paradise no sorrow may ever come, but may only beat likerain against its crystal walls, yet the souls of Merimna's heroeswere half aware of some sorrow far away as some sleeper feels thatsome one is chilled and cold yet knows not in his sleep that it ishe. And they fretted a little in their starry home. Then unseenthere drifted earthward across the setting sun the souls ofWelleran, Soorenard, Mommolek, Rollory, Akanax, and young Iraine.Already when they reached Merimna's ramparts it was just dark,already the armies of the four Kings had begun to move, jingling,down the deep ravine. But when the six warriors saw their cityagain, so little changed after so many years, they looked towardsher with a longing that was nearer to tears than any that theirsouls had known before, crying to her:
'O Merimna, our city: Merimna, our walled city.
'How beautiful thou art with all thy spires, Merimna. For thee weleft the earth, its kingdoms and little flowers, for thee we havecome away for awhile from Paradise.
'It is very difficult to draw away from the face of God--it islike a warm fire, it is like dear sleep, it is like a great anthem,yet there is a stillness all about it, a stillness full of lights.
'We have left Paradise for awhile for thee, Merimna.
'Many women have we loved, Merimna, but only one city.
'Behold now all the people dream, all our loved people. Howbeautiful are dreams! In dreams the dead may live, even the longdead and the very silent. Thy lights are all sunk low, they haveall gone out, no sound is in thy streets. Hush! Thou art like amaiden that shutteth up her eyes and is asleep, that draweth herbreath softly and is quite still, being at ease and untroubled.
'Behold now the battlements, the old battlements. Do men defendthem still as we defended them? They are worn a little, thebattlements,' and drifting nearer they peered anxiously. 'It is notby the hand of man that they are worn, our battlements. Only theyears have done it and indomitable Time. Thy battlements are likethe girdle of a maiden, a girdle that is round about her. See nowthe dew upon them, they are like a jewelled girdle.
'Thou art in great danger, Merimna, because thou art so beautiful.Must thou perish tonight because we no more defend thee, because wecry out and none hear us, as the bruised lilies cry out and nonehave known their voices?'
Thus spake those strong-voiced, battle-ordering captains, calling totheir dear city, and their voices came no louder than the whispersof little bats that drift across the twilight in the evening. Thenthe purple guard came near, going round the ramparts for the firsttime in the night, and the old warriors called to them, 'Merimna isin danger! Already her enemies gather in the darkness.' But theirvoices were never heard because they were only wandering ghosts.And the guard went by and passed unheeding away, still singing ofWelleran.
Then said Welleran to his comrades: 'Our hands can hold swords nomore, our voices cannot be heard, we are stalwart men no longer. Weare but dreams, let us go among dreams. Go all of you, and thou too,young Iraine, and trouble the dreams of all the men that sleep, andurge them to take the old swords of their grandsires that hang uponthe walls, and to gather at the mouth of the ravine; and I will finda leader and make him take my sword.'
Then they passed up over the ramparts and into their dear city. Andthe wind blew about, this way and that, as he went, the soul ofWelleran who had upon his day withstood the charges of tempestuousarmies. And the souls of his comrades, and with them young Iraine,passed up into the city and troubled the dreams of every man whoslept, and to every man the souls said in their dreams: 'It is hotand still in the city. Go out now into the desert, into the coolunder the mountains, but take with thee the old sword that hangsupon the wall for fear of the desert robbers.'
And the god of that city sent up a fever over it, and the feverbrooded over it and the streets were hot; and all that slept awokefrom dreaming that it would be cool and pleasant where the breezescame down the ravine out of the mountains; and they took the oldswords that their grandsires had, according to their dreams, forfear of the desert robbers. And in and out of dreams passed thesouls of Welleran's comrades, and with them young Iraine, in greathaste as the night wore on; and one by one they troubled the dreamsof all Merimna's men and caused them to arise and go out armed, allsave the purple guard who, heedless of danger, sang of Welleranstill, for waking men cannot hear the souls of the dead.
But Welleran drifted over the roofs of the city till he came to theform of Rold lying fast asleep. Now Rold was grown strong and waseighteen years of age, and he was fair of hair and tall likeWelleran, and the soul of Welleran hovered over him and went intohis dreams as a butterfly flits through trellis-work into a gardenof flowers, and the soul of Welleran said to Rold in his dreams:'Thou wouldst go and see again the sword of Welleran, the greatcurved sword of Welleran. Thou wouldst go and look at it in thenight with the moonlight shining upon it.'
And the longing of Rold in his dreams to see the sword caused him towalk still sleeping from his mother's house to the hall wherein werethe trophies of the heroes. And the soul of Welleran urging thedreams of Rold caused him to pause before the great red cloak, andthere the soul said among the dreams: 'Thou art cold in the night;fling now a cloak around thee.'
And Rold drew round about him the huge red cloak of Welleran. ThenRold's dreams took him to the sword, and the soul said to thedreams: 'Thou hast a longing to hold the sword of Welleran: take upthe sword in thy hand.'
But Rold said: 'What should a man do with the sword of Welleran?'
And the soul of the old captain said to the dreams: 'It is a goodsword to hold: take up the sword of Welleran.'
And Rold, still sleeping and speaking aloud, said: 'It is notlawful; none may touch the sword.'
And Rold turned to go. Then a great and terrible cry arose in thesoul of Welleran, all the more bitter for that he could not utterit, and it went round and round his soul finding no utterance, likea cry evoked long since by some murderous deed in some old hauntedchamber that whispers through the ages heard by none.
And the soul of Welleran cried out to the dreams of Rold: 'Thy kneesare tied! Thou art fallen in a marsh! Thou canst not move.'
And the dreams of Rold said to him: 'Thy knees are tied, thou artfallen in a marsh,' and Rold stood still before the sword. Then thesoul of the warrior wailed among Rold's dreams, as Rold stood beforethe sword.
'Welleran is crying for his sword, his wonderful curved sword. PoorWelleran, that once fought for Merimna, is crying for his sword inthe night. Thou wouldst not keep Welleran without his beautifulsword when he is dead and cannot come for it, poor Welleran whofought for Merimna.'
And Rold broke the glass casket with his hand and took the sword,the great curved sword of Welleran; and the soul of the warrior saidamong Rold's dreams: 'Welleran is waiting in the deep ravine thatruns into the mountains, crying for his sword.'
And Rold went down through the city and climbed over the ramparts,and walked with his eyes wide open but still sleeping over thedesert to the mountains.
/> Already a great multitude of Merimna's citizens were gathered in thedesert before the deep ravine with old swords in their hands, andRold passed through them as he slept holding the sword of Welleran,and the people cried in amaze to one another as he passed: 'Roldhath the sword of Welleran!'
And Rold came to the mouth of the ravine, and there the voices ofthe people woke him. And Rold knew nothing that he had done in hissleep, and looked in amazement at the sword in his hand and said:'What art thou, thou beautiful thing? Lights shimmer in thee, thouart restless. It is the sword of Welleran, the curved sword ofWelleran!'
And Rold kissed the hilt of it, and it was salt upon his lips withthe battle-sweat of Welleran. And Rold said: 'What should a man dowith the sword of Welleran?'
And all the people wondered at Rold as he sat there with the swordin his hand muttering, 'What should a man do with the sword ofWelleran?'
Presently there came to the ears of Rold the noise of a jingling upin the ravine, and all the people, the people that knew naught ofwar, heard the jingling coming nearer in the night; for the fourarmies were moving on Merimna and not yet expecting an enemy. AndRold gripped upon the hilt of the great curved sword, and the swordseemed to lift a little. And a new thought came into the hearts ofMerimna's people as they gripped their grandsires' swords. Nearerand nearer came the heedless armies of the four Kings, and oldancestral memories began to arise in the minds of Merimna's peoplein the desert with their swords in their hands sitting behind Rold.And all the sentinels were awake holding their spears, for Rolloryhad put their dreams to flight, Rollory that once could put toflight armies and now was but a dream struggling with other dreams.
And now the armies had come very near. Suddenly Rold leaped up,crying: 'Welleran! And the sword of Welleran!' And the savage,lusting sword that had thirsted for a hundred years went up with thehand of Rold and swept through a tribesman's ribs. And with thewarm blood all about it there came a joy into the curved soul ofthat mighty sword, like to the joy of a swimmer coming up drippingout of warm seas after living for long in a dry land. When they sawthe red cloak and that terrible sword a cry ran through the tribalarmies, 'Welleran lives!' And there arose the sounds of the exultingof victorious men, and the panting of those that fled, and the swordsinging softly to itself as it whirled dripping through the air.And the last that I saw of the battle as it poured into the depthand darkness of the ravine was the sword of Welleran sweeping up andfalling, gleaming blue in the moonlight whenever it arose andafterwards gleaming red, and so disappearing into the darkness.
But in the dawn Merimna's men came back, and the sun arising to givenew life to the world, shone instead upon the hideous things thatthe sword of Welleran had done. And Rold said: 'O sword, sword!How horrible thou art! Thou art a terrible thing to have come amongmen. How many eyes shall look upon gardens no more because of thee?How many fields must go empty that might have been fair withcottages, white cottages with children all about them? How manyvalleys must go desolate that might have nursed warm hamlets,because thou hast slain long since the men that might have builtthem? I hear the wind crying against thee, thou sword! It comesfrom the empty valleys. It comes over the bare fields. There arechildren's voices in it. They were never born. Death brings an endto crying for those that had life once, but these must cry for ever.O sword! sword! why did the gods send thee among men?' And thetears of Rold fell down upon the proud sword but could not wash itclean.
And now that the ardour of battle had passed away, the spirits ofMerimna's people began to gloom a little, like their leader's, withtheir fatigue and with the cold of the morning; and they looked atthe sword of Welleran in Rold's hand and said: 'Not any more, notany more for ever will Welleran now return, for his sword is in thehand of another. Now we know indeed that he is dead. O Welleran,thou wast our sun and moon and all our stars. Now is the sun fallendown and the moon broken, and all the stars are scattered as thediamonds of a necklace that is snapped off one who is slain byviolence.'
Thus wept the people of Merimna in the hour of their great victory,for men have strange moods, while beside them their old inviolatecity slumbered safe. But back from the ramparts and beyond themountains and over the lands that they had conquered of old, beyondthe world and back again to Paradise, went the souls of Welleran,Soorenard, Mommolek, Rollory, Akanax, and young Iraine.