Other men had been busy in the house besides the Salernitan and his assistants. No joyful occurrence ever took place among the Saxons without its being noted by a feast;—provided only that such good Saxons had wherewith to feast upon. The Normans had gone off in much too great a hurry to think of taking anything with them. In the buttery remained, among other rich drinking-horns, all carved and ornamented with silver, that famed horn which Witlaf,[139] king of Mercia, had given from his own table to Crowland monastery, in order that the elder monks might drink thereout on festivals, and in their benedictions remember sometimes the soul of the donor. It was a mighty large horn, such as became a great king: and it was an ancient custom of the house that when any new Lord Abbat came they filled the horn with strong wine, and offered to him to drink, and if he happened to drink it all off cheerfully, they promised to themselves a noble Lord Abbat and many good years in his time. Now for this high festival the subcellarer brought forth this ancient and royal drinking-horn, which held twice the quantity of our modern horns; and in order that there might be no delay in filling it, the good subcellarer caused to be brought up from below an entire cask of wine, and as soon as the cask was in the refectory the head of it was stove in. Old Robin the cook, who had been pastor and master in the art culinary to that good cook of Spalding, had so bestirred himself, and had put so many other hands and feet in motion, that there was a good supper ready for all of the house, and all of the town, and all of the vicinage of Crowland who had been aiding in the good work of disseising, now so happily accomplished; and by the time Elfric and his friends got back to the monastery, the feast was ready. The thin and dark Salernitan, being but a puny eater and no drinker, and not fully versed in our vernacular, partook only of three or four dishes and of one cup of wine; and then went straight to the bed which had been prepared for him. The homely Saxons felt a relief when he was gone. They sent the wine round faster, and began to discourse of the wonders they had done and seen. Elfric gave thanks to the lay-brothers of the house without whose aid the sham devils of Crowland could never have gotten within the house. “And how suitably attired!” said Roger the tailor. “Yet what nimble devils we were!” said Orson the smith. “What vizards! what tails! That thin dark stranger made the vizards; but it was I that made the tails, and proud am I of the work! How they twisted! How lism[140] they were! How I switched mine about by pulling the strings under my jerkin!” “I wish,” said Hob the carpenter, “that thou hadst not switched thy devil’s tail into mine eye as I was coming up after thee through the trap-door. That trap-door was a good device, and it was all mine own; for who went and cut away the beams just at the right time but Hob?”