gs on the
tiled floor which hardly needed them, as I thought, there was a
guest I was pleased to see. Thorgils had ridden from Tenby at the
bidding of the princess, as it seemed, and his first words to me
were of assurance that all went well for our sailing. The good ship
would be ready for the tide of the morrow night. Pleased enough
also he was with the chance of new passengers, as may be supposed.

I do not think that I have ever sat at a feast whereat so few were
present at the high table, and there were no house-carles at all.
Truly, the room was not large enough for what we deem that a king's
board should be, but we seemed almost in private. There were not
more than thirty guests altogether, but it was pleasant for all
that. The princess was on the right of her father, and Mara, the
daughter of Dunwal, on his left, but I sat next to Nona, and Dunwal
to me again. On the other side of the prince were some of his own
nobles, and across the room sat Thorgils next to the Cornish
priest, among Welshmen of some lower rank. They seemed an
ill-assorted pair, but Thorgils was plainly trying to be friendly
with every one in reach of him, and soon I forgot him in the
pleasantness of all that went on at our table.

However, by and by Howel said to Nona suddenly, in a low voice:

"Look yonder at the Norseman. He must be talking heathenry to yon
priest, for the good man seems well-nigh wild. What can we do?"

Truly, the face of Morfed was black as thunder, while that of the
Norseman was shining with delight in some long-winded story he was
telling. The white-robed servants were clearing the tables at this
moment, and the prince's bard, a fine old harper with golden collar
and chain, was tuning his little gilded harp as if the time for
song had come.

"Make him sing," said Nona. "I bade him here tonight that he might
do so. He has some wondrous tale to tell us."

Howel beckoned to the harper, and signed to him, and the old man
rose at once and went to Thorgils. It was not the first time that
he had sung here, it was plain. Then I noted that the priest was
scowling fiercely at myself, and I wondered idly why. I supposed,
so far as I troubled to think thereof that he was one of those who
hated the very name of Saxon.

Now Thorgils took the harp without demur, smiling at the bard in
thanks, and so came forward into the space round which the tables
were set, while a silence fell on the company.

"If my song goeth not smoot