Three long tables were ranged down the length of the apartment, filled with Alfred’s gesiths or retainers. In the centre of each table was a large boar’s head with an apple in its mouth. The room was decked with evergreens, conspicuous among them being the mistletoe, to which a traditionary superstition attached.
The floor was covered with rushes and sweet herbs, and a number of dogs lay thereon close to the great fire, watching greedily for some chance tidbit, if any there were so unmannerly as to throw to them. Upon the dais stood an oval-shaped table handsomely carved, above which was a canopy of richly embroidered cloth.
Around this table, reserved for the king’s family and guests of honor, were gathered two ladies and three small children, one boy and two girls. The king’s chair was empty. Behind the ladies stood two youths and a maiden of high rank, who served them with napkins and mead, and with a start of surprise, Egwina saw that the maiden was Ethelfleda and that one of the youths was her brother.
The tables were laden with gold and silver plate, and each person had a knife with a jeweled hilt. Pages served the meat on spits, kneeling, and occasionally passed bowls of water in which the fingers were dipped before drying them on the napkins.
Wulfhere and Egwina were given seats in the lower end of the hall among the other harpers, scops, bards, and gleemen. At their entrance every eye was turned inquiringly toward them. The reeve who had the feast in charge hastened to them.
“Thy music hath enchanted the household. Prithee delight us again. The feast is deepening.”
Nothing loth, Wulfhere complied readily; then, as the song was finished, without waiting for further request, his fingers swept the strings and he half sang, half recited, improvising as he went:
“Here Alfred of the West Saxons king, the giver of the bracelets of the nobles,
A lasting glory won by slaughter in battle, with the edges of swords at Ashdown.
The wall of shields he cleaved, the noble banners he hewed;
Pursuing, he destroyed the Danish people.
The field was colored with the warrior’s blood.
After that—the sun on high—the greatest star
Glided over the earth, God’s candle bright!
Till the noble creature hastened to her setting.
There lay soldiers many with darts struck down,
Northern men over their shields shot.
So were the Danes weary of ruddy battles.
The screamers of war he left behind; the raven to enjoy,
The dismal kite, and the black raven with horned beak, and the hoarse toad;
The eagle afterwards to feast on the white flesh;
The greedy battle hawk, and the gray beast, the wolf in the wood.
He has marched with his bloody sword, and the raven has followed him.
Furiously hath he fought, and the Northmen fear his presence.
Then did the Dane seek his fleet.
And they sang as they coursed gayly along the track of the swans:
‘Not here can the Great one harm us.
The force of the storm is a help to the arms of our rowers;
The hurricane is in our service;
It carries us the way we would go.’
Then arose the king in his wisdom. Alfred, great of understanding!
He the wise builder of ships! The giver of laws, the bestower of bracelets!
He spake, and the timbers took shape.
Then did the raven shriek on the waters.
Red ran the blood of the Northman, as the Dragon of Wessex pursued him.
Great, great are the deeds of Alfred! The wonder and glory of men!”
Thunderous applause broke forth from the retainers that shook the very rafters. Wulfhere sat down upon the settle, and glanced toward the dais from which there now advanced the royal cup-bearer.
“Later will the king grace the feast by his presence,” he said. “And then, O minstrel, shalt thou receive fitting guerdon for thy words. Drink hael to Elswitha, the lady” (the correct designation of the queens of that time was “The Lady”) “who sends thee cheer from her own table and in her own cup.”