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Hearpwine downed the last of his water and stood, saying, “Liornung is right. A lass must not go unaccompanied on to the dance floor – and you are right, Mae, when you demand that the lad does the asking.” He bowed deeply and courteously to the maid and said through his widening smile, “May I have the pleasure of a dance with you, my lady?” Mae’s face glowed as she accepted.
Hearpwine and Mae took the floor and soon their feet took up the tune of the fiddle. They swirled about the room in time and those who looked on soon realised that Hearpwine’s talents lay more in his tongue than in his feet. His dancing was accomplished but far from effortless, and he was clearly outmatched by the easy grace and melody of Maercwen. Hearpwine though, did not seem to care and he more than made up for his lack of skill and polish with his enthusiasm.
As they danced, Hearpwine’s voice followed the music in a light hum. “Be careful Master Bard,” Mae said, somewhat breathlessly, “you sound as though you are about to burst into song once more.”
“Aye,” he replied, “I find it a sore trial to move my body to music but not my voice.” The music came to a halt and Hearpwine bowed to Mae once more, before turning to the room and crying out, “Who wishes to dance with this lass? If she will have you, I will be happy to stand aside, for I do not wish to hoard the glory all for myself this night!”
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