There were several horns standing in their silver or gilded rests on the table at his elbow, and he held up that one which had been brought to me, and then dropped it.
It fell with its mouth upward, rocking on the bend in its midst, so that it might well have had a gill or two left in it, for it had a twist as well as the curve in its length, which was somewhat longer than usual.
"Poison!" he said in a low voice. "That a friend should be thus treated at my own door, by my own servant! What shall I say to you?"
"It is hard on you as on any one, Ealdorman," I answered. "But the girl did not come from Jago. Mara sent her in some way. I am sure it was she whom I saw at Tenby."
"Ay," he said, "one could not dream that a message seeming to come from honest Jago was not in truth from him. The trick was sure to be found out, and that soon, though."
"Not until the deed was done, maybe. This is the first chance that the Welsh girl has had to hand me aught."
The ealdorman held his peace for a moment, and then he broke out suddenly:
"By all the relics in Glastonbury, that thrall saved your life! He is no fool either, for he knew that the horn must be spilt in one way or the other, and it was worth while for you to run the risk of a fall rather than that you should drink it. How had he knowledge of what was to be done?"
"Whoever wrote the warning told him. It was a chance, however, that we did not come into the house."
"There is some friend watching these traitors," said Herewald. "I did not know the thrall, but so often men from the hill who have followed us come here for the ale that they know will be going, that I thought nothing of a stranger more or less. But why choose my house for this deed?"