Then the lord, the mighty Mercian
takes the bag of burnished booty
glistening gold torn from the sword-hilts
of the foe-men that have fallen
from the thegns that thought to fight him
and then lost their war-like wager
gives it to his own sworn servant
greasy Grima, oft called Worm-Tongue.
"Take this hoard and hold it, servant"
says the lord, the mighty Mercian.
"Like it was my own, my master"
Says the servant, greasy Grima,
licks his lips and sidles sideways.
And he edges for the exit
with the bag of burnished booty.
Do you think the trusted treasure
made it to the master's mead-hall?