I do not think that one need want to hear a finer voice than his; and though he had seen fit to doubt his powers, his Welsh was as good as mine, and maybe, by reason of constant use, far more easy.
And next moment I knew that he was going to sing nothing more or less than of King Ina's Yule feast, and what happened thereat.

He had promised to tell the princess the story, and this was her doing, of course.

I could not stop him, and there I must sit and listen to as highly coloured a tale as a poet could make of it.
Once he saw that I was growing red, and he grinned gently at me across the harp, and worked up the struggle still more terribly.
And all the while Morfed the priest glowered at me, until at length he rose and left the room.
I was glad enough when Thorgils ended that song, but Nona must ask him for yet another, and that pleased him, of course, and he began once more.

This time he sang, to my great confusion, of the drinking of the bowl, and of my vow, and I wished that I was anywhere but in Pembroke, or that I could reach the three-legged stool on which he was perched from under him.

I never knew a man easy while the gleemen sang his deeds, save Ina, who was used to it, and never listened; and I knew not where to look, though maybe more than half the folk present did not understand that I was the hero of the song.