He presented the cup, a golden goblet, to Wulfhere as he spoke. The old man flushed with delight.
“Wass-hael,” responded he, as he took the cup. “Wass-hael to the Lady Elswitha.”
“She bids thee welcome, thou and the maiden, and wishes ye also to sing for her in her bower later. Meanwhile, partake of the glee and mingle as of our own household among us.”
So saying he returned to his own station on the dais.
“Granther,” whispered Egwina as the youth left, “seest thou not that the maiden, Ethelfleda, serveth the lady Elswitha? The youth also is on the dais.”
“It may be, child,” answered Wulfhere. “They are guests, likely. Methought they were gentles. But didst thou see, Egwina, that the lady hath sent her own cup? Fortune hath favored us in sooth.”
The girl looked at the cup as he wished, but ever and anon stole glances toward the dais where were the youth and the maiden. At this moment from one of the settles where sat the minstrels, a voice exclaimed:
“Tell me, ye wise ones, what is winter?”
“Tell us, Witlaf,” shouted the reeve. “Expect not wisdom at a feast.”
“It is the banishment of summer,” answered the minstrel.