hly in the British tongue, Prince,
forgive me. I can but do my best. Truly, I have even now asked my
neighbour, Father Morfed, if it is fairly rendered, but I have not
had his answer yet."

He ran his hand over the already tuned strings, and lifted his
voice and began. It was not the first time that he had handled a
British harp, by any means, but if he played well he sang better. I
do not think that one need want to hear a finer voice than his; and
though he had seen fit to doubt his powers, his Welsh was as good
as mine, and maybe, by reason of constant use, far more easy.

And next moment I knew that he was going to sing nothing more or
less than of King Ina's Yule feast, and what happened thereat. He
had promised to tell the princess the story, and this was her
doing, of course. I could not stop him, and there I must sit and
listen to as highly coloured a tale as a poet could make of it.
Once he saw that I was growing red, and he grinned gently at me
across the harp, and worked up the struggle still more terribly.
And all the while Morfed the priest glowered at me, until at length
he rose and left the room.

I was glad enough when Thorgils ended that song, but Nona must ask
him for yet another, and that pleased him, of course, and he began
once more. This time he sang, to my great confusion, of the
drinking of the bowl, and of my vow, and I wished that I was
anywhere but in Pembroke, or that I could reach the three-legged
stool on which he was perched from under him. I never knew a man
easy while the gleemen sang his deeds, save Ina, who was used to
it, and never listened; and I knew not where to look, though maybe
more than half the folk present did not understand that I was the
hero of the song. Nevertheless, I had to put up with it, till he
ended with a verse or two of praise of our host and of the princess
who loved the songs of the bard, and so took his applause with a
happy smile and went and sat down, while Nona bade her maidens bear
a golden cup and wine to him.

Then the princess turned to me with a quiet smile that had some
mischief in it.

"This last is more than I had thought to hear, Thane," she said;
"you told us nought of yourself and the lady Elfrida when we rode
from the hermit's."

And so she must ask me many questions, under cover of some chant
which the old bard began, and she drew my tale from me easily
enough, and maybe learnt more than I thought I told her, for before
long she said: