Then I noted that the priest was scowling fiercely at myself, and I wondered idly why.

I supposed, so far as I troubled to think thereof that he was one of those who hated the very name of Saxon.
Now Thorgils took the harp without demur, smiling at the bard in thanks, and so came forward into the space round which the tables were set, while a silence fell on the company.
"If my song goeth not smoothly in the British tongue, Prince, forgive me.

I can but do my best.

Truly, I have even now asked my neighbour, Father Morfed, if it is fairly rendered, but I have not had his answer yet." He ran his hand over the already tuned strings, and lifted his voice and began.

It was not the first time that he had handled a British harp, by any means, but if he played well he sang better.