On him the potency of that Frankish wine lingers yet, and he does not rouse quickly, but stares at her with wondering eyes.
"Wake," she says.

"Today you are the mightiest king that has ruled in England yet." "Ay, and was so yesterday," he says, for so the songs of his gleemen tell him night after night.
"Rouse yourself," she cries angrily; "hear what I have wrought for you." Thereat some remembrance of those other words of hers comes into his mind, and he wakes suddenly, fearing, and yet half hoping.
"What mean you ?" he says.
"I mean that naught stands in your way from here to the eastern sea.

Call your levies and march across the land in all its breadth, and there is not one who will forbid you.

East Anglia is yours." Now Offa looks on her face, and sees triumph written in her eyes; and he minds all, and knows that she has done that which he forbade her not, and round his heart is a terror and a chill suddenly.
"Wife," he says in a harsh voice, "what have you done ?" "That which you would not do for yourself, but left to me.

I have taken the weak out of the way of the strong, and hereafter East Anglia will thank me." Then says Offa under his breath, "Ethelbert has been slain in my house! There is not a thrall in all the land who will not sleep better than shall I hereafter.