And she sighed therewith. But he said: ‘Hold up thine heart, Bow-may! On the word of a true man that shall befall thee one day. But come, playmate, give me thy tale!’
‘Yea,’ she said, ‘I must now tell thee in the wild-wood what else I had told thee in the Hall. Hearken closely, for this is the message:
‘Seek not to me again till thou hast the token; else assuredly wilt thou be slain, and I shall be sorry for many a day. Thereof as now I may not tell thee more. Now as to the token: When March is worn two weeks fail not to go to and fro on the place of the Maiden Ward for an hour before sunrise every day till thou hear tidings.’
‘Now,’ quoth Bow-may, ‘hast thou hearkened and understood?’
‘Yea,’ said he.
She said: ‘Then tell me the words of my message concerning the token.’ And he did so word for word. Then she said:
‘It is well, there is no more to say. Now must I lead thee till thou knowest the wood; and then mayst thou get on to the smooth snow again, and so home merrily. Yet, thou grey-eyed fellow, I will have my pay of thee before I do that last work.’
Therewith she turned about to him and took his head between her hands, and kissed him well favouredly both cheeks and mouth; and she laughed, albeit the tears stood in her eyes as she said: ‘Now smelleth the wood sweeter, and summer will come back again. And even thus will I do once more when we stand side by side in battle array.’
He smiled kindly on her and nodded as they both rose up from the earth: she had taken off her foul-weather gloves while they spake, and he kissed her hand, which was shapely of fashion albeit somewhat brown, and hard of palm, and he said in friendly wise:
‘Thou art a merry faring-fellow, Bow-may, and belike shalt be withal a true fighting-fellow. Come now, thou shalt be my sister and I thy brother, in despite of those three shafts across the snow.’