Chapter XLII.
HOW YWAIN AND AITHNE WERE GIVEN EACH TO OTHER, AND HOW THEY WERE WEDDED BY THE FREEDOM OF ALADORE.

THEN Ywain stood still and mused, looking down upon the grass about his feet: and he mused upon his pilgrimage whereby he had at last come hither. And Aithne asked him of his musing, and he answered her not, but he said: Tell me, O my beloved, when shall be the end of this my pilgrimage? And she answered: It is ended, for the shrine is found, and the lamp of the world is lit afresh. But he asked her again: By what token shall I have certainty of this? And she said: By a flame and by a gift, for by those tokens is love confirmed of all lovers both of old and for ever. Then his blood beat and his throat trembled and he said: Yea, beloved, but it may yet be far to the hour of giving. And she also trembled and said: The hour of giving is the hour of starlight, and between the sunsetting and the moonrising it will be here. Then Ywain looked again upon the ground and he saw beside his feet the long morning shadows, and he said: It is far, O my beloved. And she said: Nay, but have I not told you, that all things here are yours, for that you only are the master of the dream?

Then with her hand she pointed to the shadows upon the grass, and they were two shadows that were as one, and they lay upon a wide and open space. And Ywain looked again upon them and was amazed: for the shadows drew in apace, and they went round him as the finger goes upon the dial, save that they went a forty times more quickly. And he asked of his lady: What mean these shadows, for they are gone from the West into the East. And she answered him softly: O my lord, see you not that you are master even of the sun in heaven? And she looked stilly into his eyes, and a little wind of evening blew cool upon him.

Then she took him by the hand and led him within the house, and she brought him to an upper room and to a window therein which looked upon the city. And the window was wide open, and without it was a gallery of stone; and Ywain held his lady’s hand and went forward upon the gallery. Then he looked down, and saw beneath him the courtyard full of folk, and the place was filled with the thronging of them, and the street beyond the gates was filled also. And at the first the folk were silent and shadowy, and the twilight gathered thick upon them: and Ywain looked hard among them, peering to see if by their faces he might know them. And by one and by two he knew them, and there were by seeming in that place the faces of all men and women that he had known in all his life-days. Then pity came upon him in a moment, and great pain: for he saw them as folk lost and gone from him, and he would have had them to be partakers in his joy. And in that moment came a light of sunset into the sky, and it glowed upon the faces of them that were before him: and they cried all together and called him by his name, giving him friendship and honour. And Ywain shut to his eyes, for there was that which burned them hotly: and when he looked forth again there was neither face nor form of any man, but only a sound as of folk departing.

Then Ywain said to Aithne: Are there not also some within doors in this place, that I may do them courtesy? And she answered: They, too, are of the bordure of your dream. So she brought him within, and they went towards the great hall, and there went with them lights and trumpets. And when they came to the hall they found there a great company of knights sitting at feast together: and the knights were in number a hundred, and they were all they which in their time had sought the Lady Aithne and her love, and their feasting was full sombre and courteous. And when they saw Ywain and Aithne they rose up and did them reverence, and they gathered about them and spoke many things of honour and of farewell. Then Ywain gave them thanks with the like honour, and immediately they faded from before him, and with them the lights also faded and fell to darkness. And in the hall was none left with Ywain and Aithne, save one child only: and the child was nowise strange to them, for it was he which had been the beginner of their pilgrimage. And in his hand was a torch burning, and he bore it up before them, and about them the shadows went dancing upon the walls and upon the roof: and he went down the hall, and they two followed after him with hand in hand, and so he brought them to the chamber where they should be wed. And when they were come there he turned his torch downwards to quench it upon the floor: and the flame of it vanished and the child therewith, and the place was lit by starlight only.

But in the chamber was also a little glowing as of embers, and Ywain saw there an altar of bronze: and it seemed to him right ancient, as a thing made in the time out of mind. And beside the altar was a platter of meal and a cup of red wine standing: and Aithne took the meal into her hand, and in like manner Ywain took the wine. And they two stood beside the altar on this side and on that, and sprinkled it with meal and wine; and there went up from it two bright flames of fire, a red and a white, and they spired up and were entwined together so that they were two colours but one only flame.

Then Ywain looked upon his beloved and said: The flame is here truly, but where is the gift? And she also looked steadfastly upon him and answered him: The gift is here, but it is yours to show first the manner of the giving. And thereat he took her by the hand and said: Here in free marriage I give thee the body of me, my life with thy life, my blood with thy blood, my dust with thy dust to be mingled and made one. Then with a low voice she said after him the same words. And he said again: Here also I give thee the heart of me, my love with thy love, my hope with thy hope, my sorrow with thy sorrow to be mingled and made one. And those words also she spoke in like manner. Then he said the third time: Here also do I witness that I have given thee long since the spirit of me, to be thy friend and fellow to the end of pilgrimage. Yea, she said, and thereafter: and with thee and with all spirits to be mingled and made one.

Then she said again as to herself only: Now am I wedded by the freedom of Aladore, and so is my promise fulfilled. And when she had said that she fell suddenly to weeping. And she went to the window and leaned upon the sill, and Ywain came near, and he saw her tears falling bright under the starlight. And he was both sorry and afraid, and he took her in his arms and asked her many times wherefore she wept, and she told him not. And at the last she said: That will I tell you, but not now: and I weep not for sorrow but for remembrance. Then he solaced her with comfort of strength and of silence: and afterwards they went joyfully to their wedding and to their rest. And the moon rose on Aladore, and they saw her not: for they slept as it had been the sleep of childhood.