Of the women many seemed fair to Ralph despite their grief and travel; and as he looked on them he deemed that they must be of the kindred and nation of the fair white women he had seen in the streets; though they were not clad like those, but diversely.
So Ralph gazed on this pageant till all had passed, and he was weary with the heat and the dust and the confused clamour of shouting and laughter and talking; and whereas most of the folk followed after the host and their spoil, the streets of the town there about were soon left empty and peaceful.

So he turned into a street narrower than most, that went east from the South Gate and was much shaded from the afternoon sun, and went slowly down it, meaning to come about the inside of the wall till he should hit the East Gate, and so into the Great Place when the folk should have gone their ways home.
He saw no folk in the street save here and there an old woman sitting at the door of her house, and maybe a young child with her.

As he came to where the street turned somewhat, even such a carline was sitting on a clean white door-step on the sunny side, somewhat shaded by a tall rose-laurel tree in a great tub, and she sang as she sat spinning, and Ralph stayed to listen in his idle mood, and he heard how she sang in a dry, harsh voice: Clashed sword on shield In the harvest field; And no man blames The red red flames, War's candle-wick On roof and rick.
Now dead lies the yeoman unwept and unknown On the field he hath furrowed, the ridge he hath sown: And all in the middle of wethers and neat The maidens are driven with blood on their feet; For yet 'twixt the Burg-gate and battle half-won The dust-driven highway creeps uphill and on, And the smoke of the beacons goes coiling aloft, While the gathering horn bloweth loud, louder and oft.
Throw wide the gates For nought night waits; Though the chase is dead The moon's o'erhead And we need the clear Our spoil to share.
Shake the lots in the helm then for brethren are we, And the goods of my missing are gainful to thee.
Lo! thine are the wethers, and his are the kine; And the colts of the marshland unbroken are thine, With the dapple-grey stallion that trampled his groom; And Giles hath the gold-blossomed rose of the loom.
Lo! leaps out the last lot and nought have I won, But the maiden unmerry, by battle undone.
Even as her song ended came one of those fair yellow-gowned damsels round the corner of the street, bearing in her hand a light basket full of flowers: and she lifted up her head and beheld Ralph there; then she went slowly and dropped her eyelids, and it was pleasant to Ralph to behold her; for she was as fair as need be.

Her corn-coloured gown was dainty and thin, and but for its silver embroidery had hidden her limbs but little; the rosiness of her ancles showed amidst her white sandal-thongs, and there were silver rings and gold on her arms along with the iron ring.
Now she lifted up her eyes and looked shyly at Ralph, and he smiled at her well-pleased, and deemed it would be good to hear her voice; so he went up to her and greeted her, and she seemed to take his greeting well, though she glanced swiftly at the carline in the doorway.
Said Ralph: "Fair maiden, I am a stranger in this town, and have seen things I do not wholly understand; now wilt thou tell me before I ask the next question, who will be those war-taken thralls whom even now I saw brought into the Burg by the host?
of what nation be they, and of what kindred ?" Straightway was the damsel all changed; she left her dainty tricks, and drew herself up straight and stiff.

She looked at him in the eyes, flushing red, and with knit brows, a moment, and then passed by him with swift and firm feet as one both angry and ashamed.
But the carline who had beheld the two with a grin on her wrinkled face changed aspect also, and cried out fiercely after the damsel, and said: "What! dost thou flee from the fair young man, and he so kind and soft with thee, thou jade?
Yea, I suppose thou dost fetch and carry for some mistress who is young and a fool, and who has not yet learned how to deal with the daughters of thine accursed folk.