Those gleemen of Offa's court were skilful, and he had both Welsh and English harpers, who harped in rivalry.

Soon Ethelbert left the hall, and men smiled to one another, for they deemed that he was seeking some quiet with the princess.

But he was only following his own custom, and I knew that he would most likely be in the little chapel for the last service of the day.
Offa sat on, and it seemed to me that his face grew flushed, and his voice somewhat loud, as the time passed.

His courtiers noted it also.
"Our king is merry," one said to me.

"It is not often that he will drink the red wine which your Frankish lord sent him." "Ay," said another Mercian.