Then they laughed, and the bees swarmed.
"Now," said Cædmon, who was a wise cowherd, "hang veneria on the hive, and if ye would have them safe lay on the hive a plant of madder. Then can naught lure them away."
When they reached the Hall folk were already eating inside. Little Finan saw Cædmon go in quietly, for Cædmon was attached to the Abbess Hild's monastery and had a right to go in and eat. Inside they were singing for the sake of mirth, and the torches and firelight were flaming.
Through the open window—for windows were always open then, and the word window meant literally "wind-eye"—Finan saw the harp being passed from one to another.
They sang many songs as the harp passed from hand to hand, songs of war and songs of home.
But when the harp was passed to Cædmon, who had charmed the bees, he shook his head sorrowfully, saying that he could not sing, and got up sad and ashamed and went out.
Little Finan wanted to shout through the window to him to sing about the bees. He did not dare, for he was afraid of being discovered. Instead he followed behind Cædmon. He wished to ask him why he could not sing. This he did not dare to do, either, but he went on to the fold where the cowherd had gone to care for the cattle. And there on the edge of the fold the little boy, unseen by the cowherd, fell asleep. Shortly afterward Cædmon, too, fell asleep.
It must have been near the middle of the night when the stars one and all were shining and dancing with the sheen of millions and millions of elves, and the sea down below the cliff was singing a mighty lullabye, that little Finan started wide awake, hearing a voice speak.
"Cædmon," spoke a man who stood beside the sleeping cowherd, "sing me something."