"I held up the large drinking horn of the north. 'There is no way for this to stand upright,' I said to him, puzzled. He threw back his head again and roared once more with laughter.
'If you cannot drain it,' he said, 'give it to another!'
I threw back my head and drained the horn."

Marauders of Gor, pg. 89

"'Here Jarl,' said Thyri, again handing me the horn. It was filled with the mead of Torvaldsland, brewed from fermented, honey, thick and sweet."

Marauders of Gor, pg. 90

And at night, of course, they would serve the feasts of their masters, carrying and filling the great horns, and delighting them with the softness of their bodies in the furs.

Marauders of Gor pg 47