Читать книгу For the White Christ - Robert Ames Bennet - Страница 5

CHAPTER VII

As he sat on the high-seat,

That man of the Southland.

SONG OF ATLI.

Left alone on the knoll, Olvir turned his gaze back to the now distant barge, and watched it musingly until it disappeared beyond a clump of woods. Floki's warning had moved him more than he had cared to acknowledge. Though far from being as profound as had been Otkar, the man was possessed of exceptional shrewdness, and the knowledge of this now compelled the young sea-king to pause and ponder his words. Could they be true? He smiled at the absurdity of the question. But then he remembered the noble Frank whom he had chosen for foster-brother, and the smile left his face. However pure and innocent, what was this maiden to him?

"It is I who am dogwise, not Floki," he muttered, and he turned his back on Casseneuil.

Within a bow-shot of the king's pavilion he came upon Count Hardrat, and his quick eye noted that the man's first impulse was to avoid him. But as the Northman approached, the Thuringian advanced to meet him.

"I would make my peace," he said with a gruff show of cordiality. "Heroes should not bear malice,--and more, you had the best of it."

"Say no more of the wrangle," replied Olvir, quickly. "I heard your name, but it slips my memory."

"Hardrat, a count of Thuringia,--count of a little shire, when I should hold the Sorb Mark, if right were done me," grumbled the Thuringian. "But old Rudulf has a pretty daughter in the king's hall; and when was Karl ever known--"

Olvir turned upon the speaker, his eyes ablaze.

"How!" he demanded; "do you say anything against the maiden?"

The Thuringian recoiled as though struck.

"I--I--no!" he stammered.

"Then ward your tongue."

The count sought to meet his gaze, but failed.

"My lord Dane," he protested half sullenly, "are you not over-hasty? Surely, to speak without offence of a maiden whom you have met but once--"

"To me she is as a sister. She is all but betrothed to my foster-brother. But no more. I mistook your tone. And now I should hold it a favor to be told whose are yonder tents. They differ from all others I see about."

"Well they may. It is the camp of the Saracen envoys,--Al Arabi and--"

"Al Arabi--Al Arabi! How else is he called?"

"He is named after the wise King of the Hebrews, though his people give it a strange sound,--Sul--Suleyman."

"Thor smite me!" cried Olvir, his eyes glittering. "My thanks for the word. Farewell, earl."

Before the astonished count could answer, the Northman was walking swiftly toward the Saracen camp. Very soon he came to an open-fronted pavilion, in whose recess a venerable figure reclined on a low divan, droning out a passage of the Koran. Olvir halted a moment to stare at the patriarch, then stepped quietly within the entrance.

"Peace be with you, O emir," he said in Arabic.

"And with you peace," answered the Saracen, as he lifted his eyes. Their hawk-like glance rested wonderingly upon the bright figure of the Northman; but then it was drawn by the glow of the great ruby on the pommel of Al-hatif, and in an instant the Arab's wonder had given place to fury.

"Dog of a kaffir!" he cried, and he leaped to his feet. A taboret, set with dishes, stood before him. Spurning it aside, he advanced with a rush, till his claw-like hands threatened the smooth cheek of the Northman.

"Al-hatif! Al-hatif! The sword of the Prophet!" he shrieked. "What kaffir dog bears the khalif's gift? Eblis take the thief! May his arm wither--"

"Stay!" commanded Olvir. "Would you curse your own blood?"

The Arab paused, transfixed, and Olvir gazed unwavering into his glaring eyes. A dozen or more Moslems, weapons in hand, came flocking about the pavilion, drawn by the outcry of their sheik. But Olvir, heedless of their bared scimetars, continued gravely: "Many winters, O sheik, have whitened the mountains of Armenia since my father and Otkar, whom you called El Jinni, gave oath to you and left you lying bound on the river's bank. Both Thorbiorn and his bride, who was my mother, long since passed over the bridge of the dead, and El Jinni has now followed; but the oath has ever been kept. None other than your blood has borne the khalif's gift."

The sheik made no reply. He was gazing searchingly into Olvir's dark face, his own stern features softened by a look of deepest yearning. His doubts were soon ended. With joy as impetuous and unmeasured as had been his anger, he sprang forward and seized the young man in his arms.

"Son of Gulnare! Seed of my House!" he cried. "Allah is good! You come to cheer my age with your youth and beauty."

Olvir reverently returned the embrace of his mother's father, but answered quickly and with decision: "Deny not the justice of Allah, O sheik! Into the North He sent my mother,--and I am a son of the North. While this war lasts we shall together fight the Omyyad beneath your black banners. Afterwards I must return here among the Afranj, if not to my father's people."

"Allah's will be done! We shall see when the time is at hand. Now, at least, you will eat my salt and abide with me this night."

"Be it as you desire. Yet, first, I would see to my men."

"Go; but return quickly. My eyes yearn to feast upon the son of my daughter."

Reluctantly the sheik's arms released their clasp, and Olvir darted away along the river-bank. Al Arabi, with a curt command to his swarthy followers to withdraw, stood gazing after his grandson until he vanished behind a group of booths.

"Allah be praised this day!" he murmured fervently as he returned to his cushioned seat. "Kasim, my son-in-law, is a thorn in the flesh; but this bright child of Gulnare renews my youth. His eye is as the soaring falcon's; his step as the fleet gazelle's."

Nor was the sheik's praise unmerited. No runner in the Frankish camp could have covered the mile downstream and back with near the swiftness of the young Northman; yet when he stood again at the door of the pavilion and stepped in upon the costly Persian rugs, he betrayed no other signs of the race than a slight flush in his dark cheeks and an added depth of breathing.

"By the Beard!" exclaimed Al Arabi; "as Zora among coursers, so is the son of Gulnare among runners."

"I have run down the grey wolf in fair chase," replied Olvir, simply, and at the beckoning gesture of the sheik, he seated himself beside the old man in the same Oriental posture. Al Arabi smiled and clapped his hands. Almost immediately an Arab attendant, in loose shirt and baggy trousers, appeared at the entrance and salaamed to the ground.

"Bring food," said Al Arabi.

The man salaamed again and sprang away. As he disappeared, Olvir turned gravely to the sheik.

"What says the Prophet, O kinsman?--'Better is it to do justice than to sit at meat.' Before I taste your salt, it is well that right should be done between us. It seems to me just that I should now return to my mother's father the sword which my father took by force. Here, then, is Al-hatif. I restore it willingly, though I cannot say that the deed is a joyful one."

Olvir was not long kept waiting to see how Al Arabi would meet this act of generous pride. With a quick movement the old Moslem seized the sword and sprang to his feet. The beautiful blade whipped from its sheath and flashed around the sheik's head in bright circles.

"Allah acbar!" he cried. "The sword of the Prophet returns! Once again my hand grasps the khalif's gift!"

Olvir turned his head away, unable longer to hide his anguish at the loss of the sword. He thought of the day in Starkad's mound, when Otkar first put the coveted plaything in his childish hands. Since then it had never lain beyond his reach, night or day, and now--!

In the midst of his rejoicing, Al Arabi paused and turned his head to glance at his grandson. A moment later sword and scabbard were lying across Olvir's feet.

"Look, my son!" cried the old man. "The khalif's gift is my gift. For a little the light of the blade blinded me. But how could I take from my daughter's son the only inheritance she left him? Once the sword was forced from my grasp; now my heart rejoices to part with it to the son of Gulnare."

Olvir sought to answer, but the words choked in his throat. An eye far less keen than the sheik's, however, could have seen the gratitude which lighted the young viking's face. His eyes were shining through a mist of tears. Al Arabi gravely seated himself beside his grandson, and, sheathing the sword, clasped it once more to Olvir's belt.

The first attendant and another now entered the tent, bearing between them a taboret set with food. The second attendant withdrew at once; but his fellow waited for further orders.

"Where is Vali Kasim?" asked Al Arabi.

"He goes with the herd to the river, O sheik."

"When they return, bid him come this way."

The man bowed and slipped noiselessly away, while the host, having first tasted each dish on the table, urged his guest to eat. He had no need to repeat the bidding. Olvir's youth and health would have given relish to the plainest fare, and the mutton stew was very savory. When the last drop of gravy had been sopped up, Olvir turned with good-will to the dates and candied fruit, which the sheik was attacking with the zest of an Oriental. Hearty, however, as was the younger man's appetite, his palate, unaccustomed to such confections, soon cloyed with their spicy sweetness. Al Arabi gravely shook his head at this sign of foreign taste, and then he smiled in recollection of the past.

"It is clear that you were not raised in the land of the faithful, son of my daughter," he observed. "You lack the sweet tooth."

"I will not turn from honey in the comb; but these sweets--"

"The spices of the Far East. You will in time become used to their flavor," explained the sheik, and he held up a slice of candied pomegranate between thumb and finger. But the sweetmeat did not reach his mouth. Struck by a sudden thought, he dropped the titbit to clutch Olvir's shoulder. His eyes were ablaze with intense feeling.

"Hei, by the Prophet's Beard, you shall in truth learn the taste of Moslem sweets! Who is Kasim, that he should stand first with the Beni Al Abbas? My word is yet weightiest in the council of the sheiks. When this lion of the Afranj has broken the might of that dog Abd-er-Rahman, my daughter's son--my daughter's son shall be Emir of Andalus!"

Olvir's cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkled at the alluring prospect; but his clear intellect was quick to perceive the wildness of the scheme.

"Hearken a little, father of my mother," He said. "I give thanks for the good thought; but how can such be? Did Allah uprear me a kaffir, that I might rule over the faithful?"

"The mission of Islam is to bring unbelievers into the faith."

"I hold to no faith but my own. No priest or prophet shall set the bounds of my thought. I see much good in the words of the Son of Mary; but little has Mohammed added to them. I believe that God is in all men alike, and that each man is good, not according as he is Moslem or Jew, Christian or heathen, but as he does in his deeds the will of the Spirit within him. But enough! I give you pain."

"Hei! you speak in a strange tongue, son of Gulnare. Yet the tongue can be bridled. You believe in the One God. For the rest, there need be--"

"Stay, father. What is the creed of Islam, which the proselyte must cry aloud? No; it cannot be. Even my hair would betray me."

"Bismillah! The All-powerful One will disclose his decrees in due time. If yours is the Afranj hair, is not Abd-er-Rahman's the Afranj eye? 'Blue of eye, and foul of face,' the saying is against the Omyyad; but there is nothing in men's mouths against hair of golden flame. We shall see what Allah has decreed. Now tell me how you come here to the host of the Sultan Karolah; tell me of my Gulnare, and of your life in the frozen North."

Olvir bowed; but he had hardly made a beginning of the tale of how Thorbiorn Viking brought home his elf bride from the Land of the Asiamen, when he was interrupted by the sound of quick hoof-beats, and a score of beautiful horses, wine-red in color, came crowding around the front of the tent. As Olvir stopped short with a cry of delight, Al Arabi smiled and lifted his hand. A mare at once pushed from among her companions and advanced quietly into the tent, the tip of her flowing tail brushing the costly rugs, upon which she planted her small hoofs with the daintiness of a woman. Al Arabi held out for her a stoned date, and as she nibbled at it he stroked her bony cheek.

"So, Zora," he said, "you must have your sweetmeats, like all women. But I do not begrudge them to my swift one. You look at the guest, daughter of Rustem. It is well. He is not such a one as these Afranj jinn, who must get them to battle or the chase on ox-like steeds. No, Wind-racer; this is one with whom you could course the gazelle from dawn even to sunset. Look closely at the young man, for he is of the Household,--he is the Heir."

Zora stretched out her graceful neck to nuzzle the Heir's strange attire with the tip of her projecting lip. The attention was appreciated at its full value. Never before had Olvir seen the like of this beautiful mare, and her friendliness greatly pleased him. He was stroking the broad forehead between her soft black eyes when the younger Saracen envoy entered the tent.

Kasim did not wait to examine the guest, but perceiving at the first glance that the stranger's dress was not of Saracen fashion, he exclaimed petulantly: "How now, father of my bride; has your dowar become a lounging-place for kaffirs? I did not look to find you breaking bread with an Afranj dog."

Great was the vali's surprise when the despised kaffir answered him in his own tongue: "Friend, what says the wise king, the emir's namesake?--'Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is accounted wise; and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding.'"

Though not a little humiliated by the apt rebuke, Kasim advanced closer to examine the guest with his blinking gaze. If his thought was to strike fear into the heart of the stranger by the fierceness of his look, he was never so mistaken. Olvir met him with a gaze so steady and so full of calm indifference that the Saracen, to cover the sudden confusion which fell upon him, shifted his glance to the stranger's dress.

The body armor of the guest was familiar to his sight; for only in its rich finish and in the threefold thickness of its mesh did it differ from his own. Yet it had an odd appearance, worn with the cross-thonged stockings, close breeches, and fur-trimmed cloak of the Norse dress. And, notwithstanding the ruddy yellow hair of the son of Gulnare, never had Kasim Ibn Yusuf seen a warrior who in figure, face, and bearing so nearly approached the Arab ideal of princeliness and beauty.

"May it please the father of my sultana to make known the guest who sits at meat with him," he said.

Al Arabi rose, and Olvir imitated the movement. When both were standing, the sheik laid his hand on Olvir's shoulder, and answered the vali: "You have heard of El Jinni, Ibn Yusuf,--that Samson of the Far North--"

"I have heard of El Jinni," retorted Kasim. "So this is his son. Had another than yourself told me that you would hold friendship with any kin of the robber who despoiled your city and bore off your daughter, I should name the teller a liar."

"Do not marvel, Ibn Yusuf. This is not the son of El Jinni, but the son of that daughter,--my Gulnare. Rejoice with me, Kasim! The lost is found! Come forward and greet your kinsman."

At the appeal, which was half a command, Kasim advanced and embraced Olvir, muttering formal words of pleasure. His protestations of friendship did not, however, deceive the young Northman. He read the hostility in the Arab's eyes, and met the feigned warmth of his greeting with cold disdain.

"You bear a sword of price, kinsman," remarked the vali, as the glow of the great ruby on Al-hatif's hilt caught his eye.

"It is a sword beyond price," answered Olvir. "The Prophet himself once bore it. When your wife's father aided Khalif Abdullah to overthrow the House of Omar, the khalif did more than make him Emir of Kars,--he gave to him Al-hatif."

"Al-hatif!" cried Kasim; "the Prophet's sword in the hand of an unbeliever!"

"I believe in the One God," replied Olvir. "There is good in all faiths. I accept the Truth wherever I find it; the error I reject."

The vali threw out his hands in pious horror.

"La I'laha ilia Allah; Mohammed resoul Allah!" he cried. "Within Islam alone is salvation."

"So say the Jews; so say the Christians; and so say the Magians,--each for his own creed," retorted Olvir.

Kasim frowned and shook his fist at the unbeliever, in sudden heat.

"What saying's this?" he exclaimed. "Who dares name the creeds of kaffir dogs in the same breath with the true faith? Who--"

"Enough, vali!" commanded Al Arabi. "There shall be no railing and contention in my House. The son of Gulnare does not come to bring strife, but to strengthen our hands in the struggle against Abd-er-Rahman. You saw his warriors in the strange ships which rowed past before our dowar. When Karolah comes south, with him will march your kinsman and his steel-clad warriors, to fight beneath our banners. And now, that the son of Gulnare may not find the way toilsome, I give him the choicest of my desert-fliers. The daughter of Rustem is fitting gift to the son of Gulnare."

"Zora!" stammered Kasim,--"Zora!"

"I have spoken. Lead the herd away, and make ready full equipment, that the fleet one may come to her master with adornment worthy of her lineage."

With his hand clutched convulsively in Zora's flowing mane, Kasim led her from the tent without a word.

Al Arabi watched his departure with a frown of displeasure, his lean hand tugging at his beard.

"He goes in anger," he muttered.

"I fear I bring you sorrow, father," said Olvir. "A house divided against itself cannot stand."

"The Son of Mary spoke truth. Yet be at peace. It is not you who bring contention to my House. Kasim Ibn Yusuf is a man of unruly spirit. He has long been a thorn in my flesh. Your coming has rejoiced my soul."

"Allah grant it may never be otherwise!" responded Olvir.

"Amin--amin!" said Al Arabi; and motioning Olvir to resume his seat, he added: "Now, my son, tell me fully of your mother and of your fearful uprearing by El Jinni in the tomb."

CHAPTER VIII

Unwound from arm winding-rings

Of Kaiser gold wrought--

LAY OF HILDEBRAND.

The seed of gold

Sowed the swan-bright woman,

Rings of red-gold.

SONG OF ATLI.

Morning put an end to Sheik Suleyman's hospitality. Shortly after sunrise his retainers began striking the tents of the dowar, in preparation for the journey back across the Pyrenees. To ferry the envoys over the Garonne, Olvir manned one of his longships, and made ready to embark with his new-found kinsmen. His purpose was to accompany the sheik half a day on the march, as a mark of the respect and affection due his mother's father. He also had in view the return to the Garonne, when, unhampered by companions, he could test the speed of the beautiful red mare.

At the last moment, however, as Zora was being led aboard ship, young Gerold of Busson came galloping down the bank, and hailed the Norse chief loudly: "Hold, Lord Olvir! The king bids you to his presence."

Olvir turned, frowning, to the sheik, who stood with Kasim in the vessel's stern.

"Eblis!" he exclaimed in Arabic. "Am I a hound, to leap to another's bidding? Karolah sends command for my presence. Let him command; I go with you."

"Allah forbid!" rejoined Al Arabi. "Have you not chosen the service of the Afranj sultan? Why, then, should he not command? Bend to his wish. It may be that he sends to honor you."

"Yours are words of wisdom, father of my mother. My freedom is in the hands of my lord. Farewell, therefore,--and peace be with you till we meet in Andalus," replied Olvir, and he beckoned the groom who held Zora to bring the mare to him.

Al Arabi leaned over the ship's side and extended his arms in a yearning gesture.

"My peace with you, son of Gulnare! I shall suffer many nights of longing before I see your face on the Ebro's bank."

"The days of our meeting will blot out the memory of the parting," answered Olvir; and a smile drove the lingering frown from his brow. Still smiling, he glanced aside at Kasim, with a pleasant word of parting on his lips; but neither look nor word won a responsive smile from the impassive face of the younger Saracen.

A moment later, as the ship's bows swung clear of the bank, Count Gerold rode down beside Olvir and cried out eagerly: "Tell me, hero, is not that your rune-friend Liutrad at the helm?"

"Ay."

"Then may he not come with us? Our lord king will be glad to see him also."

Olvir made a sign to the young giant, who calmly gave the tiller into Floki's hand, and turned to pick up his ponderous axe.

"The hero should move more briskly if he would come ashore dry shod," remarked Gerold, and he pointed to the quickly widening space between the bank and the longship's stern.

"The stag leaps high. I alone can out spring the son of Erling. Watch!"

As Olvir spoke, Liutrad bounded up on the high stern-piece of the ship. For an instant he stood poised on the gilded dragon-tail, gathering force for the wide leap; then he came flying above the water, clear to the side of his earl.

"Well done, Dane!" exclaimed Gerold; and he sprang from his horse.

Liutrad caught the extended hand of the queen's brother in his powerful grip, and met his smile with a look no less friendly. Though the Northman overtopped the Swabian by a head, the two were so well matched in years and nature that their hearts warmed in friendship on the spot.

For a while, as the boyish warriors exchanged pledges of friendship, Olvir watched the white-bearded figure in the stern of the receding ship. At last, with a gesture of farewell, he turned and looked at the new-made friends. His face lighted at sight of their smiles, and with a quick movement he unwound one of the double spirals of gold coiled about his arm. Another twist in his sinewy fingers broke the spiral into two equal parts. Handing one to each of the young men, he explained to the Swabian: "In the North a leader who is not close-fisted is called the 'ring-breaker,' because he gives the red gold of his rings to his true friends and followers. Here, then, I give you each a ring to wear, as a token of the bond between you."

Both sought to thank him; but he cut short their words with a gesture. His face had darkened as though a shadow had fallen across it.

"May the Norns weave you good luck!" he muttered. "Not all friends lack gall in their mead."

"Surely there shall be none in the sweet mead that I 'll drink with Liutrad the loreful!" replied Gerold. "But come now. Our lord king is eager to talk with such wise heroes. It is wonderful that warriors should be so learned. Few even among monks and priests can mark fair letters. Were you and Lord Olvir baptized, his Majesty would make bishops of you both."

"As it is," rejoined Olvir, ironically, "we are benighted heathen,--sons of the fiend-god Thor. And now, as you well say, we had best be moving if we would not keep the great king waiting."

"I will walk to the villa beside my Frank friend," remarked Liutrad, as Olvir placed a hand on Zora's withers and vaulted lightly into the saddle. But Gerold would not agree.

"Yonder is the camp of one who owes me favor," he said. "I will soon have a horse for you."

With Liutrad mounted, the three quickly covered the ride to Casseneuil. Grooms of the king's stables took charge of the horses in the courtyard of the villa, and Gerold, waving aside the Grand Doorward, himself ushered his companions to the royal apartments.

Olvir and Liutrad, staring wonderingly about them at the Roman architecture and Gallo-Roman decorations of the villa, followed Gerold in half-awed silence through the flower-perfumed courts and the marble-tessellated passages. At each turn they looked to find themselves on the threshold of some grand rush-strewn hall, crowded with war-counts and the Frank king's councillors. When, however, Gerold at last led them through a curtained archway, a glance at the tapestried chamber within showed them their mistake.

"The queen's bower!" muttered Olvir, and his black eyes flashed their glance along the line of busily sewing maidens on the right to Rothada, playing with her sister and brothers at the edge of the dais that extended across the farther end of the chamber. Upon the dais sat Hildegarde herself, side by side with her royal spouse.

With all his haughty pride, Olvir was quick to realize the honor paid him, stranger and outlander as he was, by such an introduction into the bosom of the Frank king's family. When he perceived the queen's extended hand beckoning him to approach, he advanced at once down the chamber, without pausing to look about. In his eagerness he failed to see Count Roland and Fastrada, who had drawn apart into one of the recessed windows of the bower. Liutrad, however, chancing to glance that way, turned aside to inquire the health of the wounded count; and Fastrada took instant advantage of the interruption to glide out beside Gerold. If her intention was to overtake Olvir, she was too late. He was already kneeling at the edge of the dais, to kiss the queen's hand.

As the Northman's knee touched the dais step, the great Frank in the oaken seat struck his thigh, and cried loudly: "By my sweet dame's spindle! hereafter I swear by that token! The Dane bows neither to sword nor crown, yet stoops low to a woman's hand."

Olvir stood erect and looked straight into the gracious face of the queen. Hair of golden floss, a skin of dazzling fairness,--neither was new to him; but the mild blue eyes beamed with spiritual light such as was seldom seen even in the lands of Christendom. The daughter of Childebrand, despite her seven years of wedlock, was a dame very lovely to the eye, no less in expression than in feature.

Olvir smiled at her as he would have smiled at Rothada, and, without turning, he answered the king steadily: "I come of high blood, lord king; also, I am a free Northman,--I bow to no man. But the greatest of all may well bow to holiness. We have a saying in the North, 'A good woman is near the gods.'"

"That is a wise saw, however heathenish. But give heed to our queen; she has something to say to you."

"I would give thanks for the safe bringing of this little maiden," remarked Hildegarde. "Only a warrior of noblest heart could have done such a deed."

Olvir shook his head smilingly.

"I freed the Dane's thralls for my own pleasure, which you now double," he said.

"But you shall also accept this ring, as mark of our gratitude," rejoined the queen, and she drew a bracelet of twisted gold wires from her white wrist. When she held out the ornament, Olvir, instead of grasping it, thrust his left hand through the opening.

"How! is the ring on?" exclaimed Karl, in surprise. "The lad has no need to talk of high birth,--a warrior with hands womanly slender!"

"Yet fit to grasp spear or sword," added Hildegarde, gazing curiously at the young sea-king's hard palms and sinewy wrists.

"Before I could walk I played with weapons," replied Olvir, and he glanced aside at the royal children. The king looked also, and at once beckoned to the little group. The sturdy boy Karl sprang forward at the signal, followed by his imperious little sister Rotrude and the toddling Carloman. After the children of Hildegarde came their unfortunate half-brother, the crook-backed Pepin. All were soon perched upon the massive knees of majesty.

There was space left for Rothada at her father's side; but she had lingered to greet Olvir. She came to him, her face beaming with delight and gay welcome, which yet could not altogether hide the shyness of budding maidenhood. Olvir did not wait for her faltering speech. He caught her hands in his and bent to kiss her white forehead.

"Health to you, maiden!" he said. "My sea-wolves send greeting to their little seeress. Already they howl for a glimpse of her bright face."

"I pray they may not howl so loud as when Liutrad, yonder, and the lofty Floki upraised us on the shield. My heart turned to water for fear of their roaring," replied Rothada; and even the awe of her father's presence could not restrain a burst of merry laughter at the memory.

Olvir smiled down into the girl's sparkling eyes.

"Ay, king's daughter," he said; "but you soon lost your dread of the grim hailers. Did you not cry back greeting to them? Small wonder they hailed the little valkyrie who stood so boldly on the shield with their earl; small wonder they choose for vala the wise little leech-maid who went among the stricken warriors with soft words and healing balm."

Karl stared at his daughter in wonder.

"Do you jest, Count Olvir?" he demanded. "This is a part of the tale I had not yet heard. Surely, for a nun-child--"

"She was no nun-child, then, but the child of the great Frank king. Already she had turned away Floki from the burning of the thralls. Then she stood with me on the swaying shield. But not until we crossed the river bar and held war-council oh the Garonne bank did the crews choose her for their vala,--their little seeress-maiden. The stricken Danes whom she had nursed aboard my Raven set her in the midst of the gathering, and the king's daughter won all alike by her sweet wisdom and lore. She holds the fierce hearts of my sea-wolves by a bond subtle and strong as the fetter of the Fenris-wolf. We have sworn to carve the blood-eagle on the back of whoever does her harm."

"The Holy Mother bless you!" cried Hildegarde; and the king, flushing with pleasure, added heartily, "Amen to the good wish! You have well earned it, my bright Dane,--you and all your followers, though you be twice over heathen. Before sunset the grim warriors shall see the maiden in their midst. Now come to my side, child, and let a seat be brought for our guests."

CHAPTER IX

As fair as thou seest

Brides on the bench abiding.

Let not love's silver

Rule over thy dreams;

Draw no woman to kind kisses.

LAY OF SIGRDRIFA.

As Rothada sprang up the step of the dais to nestle close to her father, Gerold drew out a bench from the nearest wall. On this Olvir seated himself, and the king beckoned to Liutrad and Roland.

"Come forward, heroes," he said; "and you, Gerold."

The quick advance of her companions left Fastrada alone in the midst of the bower. She hesitated and looked appealingly to the king. Karl had bent over the children clasped in his great arms; but Hildegarde saw the girl's look, and signed to her to take the place on the bench beside Roland.

Crimson with shamefaced delight, the girl glided forward. Near the bench, however, she began to falter, seemingly overcome by diffidence. A very audible tittering from the other bower-maidens sent her edging around the end of the bench farthest from Roland. Then the king, drawn by the note of merriment, looked up and fixed his gaze upon her. Was it to be wondered that, between her diffidence and the awe of the royal presence, the girl shrank back to the bench in such confusion as to thrust herself between Liutrad Erlingson and his lord?

Karl burst into a hearty laugh.

"Holy Mother!" he exclaimed, "it is our herald maiden. She plays her own part more ill than another's. Did you not tell me, sweetheart, that Roland--ay, it was Roland! We will mend matters if this young Dane bear will barter seats on the bench with a stricken hero."

Liutrad sprang up at the word. But Count Roland sat firmly in his place.

"The maiden has good eyesight, and there is space beside me," he said.

A second and louder titter ran down the row of bower-maidens, and even Hildegarde could not suppress a smile. Fastrada only blushed the more, and sat with downcast eyes, not even venturing a glance at the young sea-king beside her. Her drooping shoulder pressed lightly against the gold spirals on the Norse hero's mailed arm. She sat very quiet.

Again Karl laughed, this time at the frowning face of his nephew.

"Ha, kinsman," he admonished in a jesting tone, "the maiden seems coy. Your wooing has been over-hearty."

"That could not be, dear lord, if the maiden loves him," observed Hildegarde, softly.

"Which is to say--"

"Nothing, sire, nothing!" broke in Roland. "We were merely talking of my sword-brother."

"A choice subject," rejoined Karl; "yet had I worn the buskins of Count Roland, I should have talked more of the maiden herself, and of Count Roland's thoughts of her."

Roland's frown deepened, and Fastrada's blushing face bent still farther forward. Olvir sat rigidly erect, striving to resist his desire to gaze down on the drooping maiden. He had caught one glimpse of her face as she stood between him and the king,--a glimpse that of itself was enough to set his pulses wildly throbbing; and now there was added to it the warmth and perfume of her person close against his side. The temptation was almost greater than he could bear. Only by the strongest effort could he hold in mind his duty to his foster-brother. Of all present, he perhaps felt most keenly the constraint of the silence which followed the king's well-meant raillery.

The pause was broken by Hildegarde, with the kindly thought of diverting attention from the lovers.

"Dear lord, you told me that Count Olvir was the foster-son of Otkar the Dane. Have I not also heard you say that Lord Otkar was the craftiest as well as the strongest of warriors?"

"He was a foe worthy a king," answered Karl. "Would that the hero were now beside my throne, with his grey wit and mighty axe! Yet I should not complain. Here is one whom he has reared in all his lore and wisdom."

"The lore, but not the wisdom, lord king," replied Olvir. "He could give me the one; the other no man may impart."

"True; and the saying tells me you have found wisdom for yourself. Beware, for now I shall put your wit to the test. I would ask your counsel on this Saracen war. All my other borders are pacified. Even the Saxon Mark--"

"Count nothing on the Saxons, lord king," interrupted Olvir.

"How! already a difference from my councillors? Not one in my hall but will tell you those wolves are at last tamed. I have planted their wild land with fortresses and chapels."

"Your church tithes and the preaching of your priests will soon stir the sons of Odin to renewed anger. I speak words from Otkar's lips. There will be blood on priestly robes. Your burgs and your chapels will see the torch. Look for no sure peace in Saxon Land so long as Wittikind the Westphalian bears his head upon his shoulders."

"He dwells with Sigfrid the Dane, as you yourself bring word."

"Scant cheer! When he comes again, it will be with a following of Dane warriors. If he is content to dwell always with the Nordmannian king, why should he send the murderer Hroar to bear off this little maiden by your knee?"

The king laid his hand on Rothada's head, and his face grew stern with a look of majesty and power before which even Olvir sat half awed.

"Dane and Saxon,--sea-wolf and forest-wolf,--let the wild hordes come! They shall find other than lambs to greet them!"

"Yet now you 'd lay open the Mark to them, lord king," persisted Olvir. "You plan to lead your host still farther from the Rhineland."

"By Thor, Olvir," broke in Liutrad, with Norse freedom, "why seek to mar such fair chance of sword-play? The more of war, the merrier for heroes. And would you turn aid from your Saracen kin?"

"Saracen kin; how's that, my Norse hawk? Is the boy mad?"

"No, lord king," replied Olvir; "my face should tell otherwise. Because of it, men in the North call me Elfkin; but this is the truth,--in my mother's veins Greek and Arab blood were mingled. Her father, Sheik Suleyman, is known to you as Al Arabi,--leader of the Saracen envoys."

"Al Arabi!"

"One-time Emir of Armenia. The wife who bore him my mother was of kin to the Emperor Leo, whom men call the Isaurian."

"By my crown! no longer do I wonder at your unbending knee! I have done well to honor you. What is your knowledge of the Saracen folk?"

"As to those in the Eastland, I learned much from Otkar and from Arabic writings; but of these in Andalus, I know only what came to me last night from the lips of my mother's father."

"And what did he say of Abd-er-Rahman? The Saracen king has the name of a great warrior."

"True, lord king; yet the Beni Al Abbas cherish undying hatred against the Omyyad."

"These Saracen pagans are loath to take oath; but the envoys swore to the fealty of their faction. I count no less on aid from the Christian folk in that land."

"And Duke Lupus, your Majesty," added Roland, with a sudden show of interest. "He brings us safe passage of the Pyrenees."

"I have heard Otkar speak of the Vascons," rejoined Olvir, dryly. "It is said they do not love outlanders. As to this duke, is he not of Merwing blood?"

"True,--and therefore lacks boldness to break his allegiance," answered Karl.

Olvir's lip curled in a slow smile.

"A fox will snap in his own den, and, at the best, the mountain-cats are hard to hold. You may look for aid to the Beni Al Abbas; but count neither on Christian Vascon nor Christian Goth."

"What! do you hold that the Christian folk would choose their pagan oppressors before a ruler of their own faith? Our Holy Father Hadrian numbers them among the truest of Christians."

"And yet, lord king, the Moslem yoke is lighter on their necks than is your own upon the folk of Aquitania."

At the bold assertion, Karl's heavy brows met in a frown, and an angry light shone from his grey eyes.

"My yoke,--my yoke!" he repeated slowly. "By my sword, young Dane, you are no court-man. Otkar himself would scarce have ventured so bitter a jeer."

"Jeer! The king asked my counsel, and I gave it. I believe what I spoke; it came to me from Otkar. Why, then, should I not speak it?"

"Why not?" rejoined Karl; and he burst into hearty laughter. Then, falling grave again, he nodded, and called out approvingly, "Here, in truth, is a king's son! Hearken, my Dane hawk; though I have bold counts as well as sleek flatterers, my ears are not used to such biting truths. It shall be otherwise hereafter. I will not willingly part with so straight-tongued a counsellor."

The great Frank paused to pat the heads of the three boys astride his knees.

"May these bairns prove as bold," he added. "And now, enough of such matters. I had intended, Olvir, to test your learning, and that of your ruddy-cheeked follower; but that must now wait. After the feast of Lupus, we will have you both come of an evening to feast us on your book-lore."

"The feast of Lupus!" sighed Hildegarde, pausing in her needlework. "I wish that I might attend it with you, dear lord."

"And why, sweetheart?"

"Fastrada, tell his Majesty of the feast."

Thus called upon by her royal mistress, Fastrada raised her eyes with a timid glance, which, as she spoke, faltered and turned appealingly aside toward Olvir.

"Your Majesty," she murmured, "it is said that the Vascon duke has planned his feast after the manner of the old-time Romans. Instead of seats, he will place couches for the guests to recline upon while they dine."

"What!--to lie and sup together? The Vascon proves his Merwing blood. None other would think of mating bed and board. Yet he is host; we must make the best of it."

"Surely no harm will follow, sire," said Gerold. "Abbot Fulrad and other churchmen will be there, and thus to act out an ancient custom will give play for much merriment."

"Joy works no harm," replied Karl, nodding. "At the least, we shall give the duke's hospitality fair trial. Meantime, there is much else to demand our care. Farewell for the present, my Dane hawk, and you, young Samson."

All on the bench rose at the word of dismissal. Olvir, with a bow to the queen and a kindly glance for Rothada, turned quickly away after Gerold and Liutrad, resolutely refraining from a single glance at the lovely bench-mate whom he thus suddenly deserted.

In vain Fastrada gazed longingly after the Northman; while, no less vainly, Roland lingered for a parting look from the girl. Both were alike disappointed.

As the bower-maiden glided silently back among her companions, the wounded count followed Olvir from the chamber with a heavy tread.