Widsið accepts the sweetbread with a nod to the Celt from Caer Uisc, understanding only bits and pieces through her brogue. I keep to myself at a table near the door. As an Anglo-Dane, there are few of my stock that are more than thralls. Though I own the place, Widsið is the mead hall's figurehead. Famous and well-travelled, he draws many prominent figures, most notable of which is King Ælfred himself!

I pull my hacele tightly around me, as if Ælfred might know me by sight. I've never before met the Dryhten of Wessex, but there's something about they way he looks through the hall that makes me wonder if he can tell family tree's roots of every face he sees. I hide behind my horn of beor.