For The White Christ Part 21

"Let the mother of Fastrada speak," he said in a tone more of command than entreaty.

"Do you not fear the fiends, son of Thorbiorn?" demanded the woman, in a hollow voice.

Olvir's lip curled. "The grave-mound was my dwelling, and I have ever drunk to Thor."

"Foolish bairn! Do you not know that I can blast you with the curse of your own G.o.ds,--that I can wither your limbs like the boughs of the stricken linden?"

Olvir drew up his lithe form, and his black eyes flashed defiantly.

"Now, by Loki!" he cried; "here we stand, witch-dame. Let us test the power of your spells."

"Not so, hero. I have tested what I would test, even as the Grey Wolf has tested you. Yet there is more. Answer me with a straight tongue.

Can you name yourself a king?"

"Sea-king,--no land-king. Yet my father, whose name you divined, was King of Lade, and I am now heir to the high-seat."

The woman bent her head, and muttered to herself in her strange tongue.

Rudulf stood waiting, as though spellbound; but Olvir, grown impatient, stepped about to go.

"Farewell, dame," he said briskly.

"Go, king's son-- Yet listen! I doubt. It should be _king_; not _king's son_--and _grey of eye_. _Hei_! all is misty. The fiend-G.o.ds are angered. Stay with us this night. I will make sacrifice and sing the fate-songs."

Olvir laughed. "I ask no aid from G.o.ds I scorn."

"Then I leave you to your fate."

"What the Norns weave will come to pa.s.s. Again I say, farewell, dame.

Come, Rudulf, if your word is true."

Rudulf turned to his wife, and, meeting a gesture of a.s.sent, hurried out after Olvir and the red mare. At his whistle, a powerful black horse came running from the meadow, and the count mounted without saddle or bridle. Side by side, Thuringian and Northman rode through the wild beech-wood to Fulda; and, on the way, the old count plied his daughter's suitor with many shrewd questions. To all alike Olvir made satisfactory answer; and the Thuringian raised no objections even when he learned that the young sea-king might soon bear off his bride to his far Northern home. It was enough for the Grey Wolf that the suitor was a tried warrior of good birth.

At Fulda he refused the urgent hospitality of Abbot Sturm, and waited only while Olvir, quicker than any of the monastery scribes, drew up the betrothal agreement in beautiful Irish script. Then he made his rude mark upon the parchment, and, with a word of farewell to Olvir, gruff but hearty, he mounted his horse and rode away homeward through the gathering night.

But Olvir gladly accepted the abbot's hospitality, not only for the night, but for two more days to come. Though the pick of a breed that could claim greater speed and endurance than perhaps any other stock known in all Arabia, even Zora had been too severely taxed by the strain of the long race from the Southland; and Olvir himself, with all his lifelong training, had to own the need of rest before undertaking the return journey.

To the monks of Fulda the brief visit of the king's messenger afforded material for gossip during many a dull month to follow. Young and old, they were eager to serve him; while Zora had no lack of frocked grooms who took joy in tending and caressing the wonderful mare. But what appealed strongest to Sturm and the more studious of the brothers was the marvellous learning of their guest. Though their school was already famed beyond the borders of the kingdom and could number its pupils by hundreds, so greatly had learning dwindled throughout Europe that Olvir, who had benefited by the fruit of Otkar's wander-years, far outmatched the scholars of the monastery in all branches of knowledge except only the writings of the Christian fathers.

Nor did Olvir detract from his reputation at the close of his visit.

One of his last acts was to visit the monastery school, where, with quick discernment, he singled out and rewarded with a handful of silver pennies the brightest among the younger students,--Eginhard, son of Eginhard, a nimble-witted child of eight, whom history was to know as the son-in-law and biographer of Karl the King.

CHAPTER XV

At the Thing, Where folk throng.

LAY OF SIGRDRIFA.

Once more Zora's round hoofs beat quick time on the roadway, and the ease of her stride was proof that the rest had fully restored her strength. With quick intelligence, she felt and responded to the joyful mood of her rider, who, with the betrothal lines safe in his bosom, raced away southwards, full of song and gladness.

Over Rhine and through Austrasia, back across the Seine at Paris, and so again to Tours and down into fair Aquitania rode the king's messenger, ever bright-eyed and smiling. At Paris he had stopped again half a day with the smith, so that Zora had had no cause to feel neglected; while, throughout the long ride, he had lightened the journey-toil both for himself and for the mare by humming Northern love-songs and Arab chants of the desert.

So the king's messenger rushed out of the North. The royal signet opened for him all doors, and no wayside thief dared attack so well armed a rider.

Morning of the twelfth day found him leaving the gate of a little town south of Perigueux. It was the commencement of the journey's last stage,--so Olvir whispered joyfully in Zora's ear; and the red mare responded by stretching out her neck for the half-day's race that should bring them to the Garonne. At first the faithful beast showed a little stiffness; but she soon fell into her stride, and the long miles melted away from before her no less swiftly than when she first left Fulda.

As mare and rider sped along the highway, a stranger, judging by their appearance, would have thought that they had just burst away from the tedium of camp life. Only by their leanness did either betray to the casual glance the tremendous strain of the long race against time.

Twice during the morning's ride Olvir dismounted and ran beside the mare, to ease his stiffened limbs. When, the second time, he swung back into the saddle, his eye was caught by the battlement on one of the towers of Ca.s.seneuil. Then the full view of the Garonne's valley burst upon him, and he uttered a joyful shout. The banks of the stream were still dotted with tents and booths. The Frankish host had not yet marched south.

a.s.sured of this welcome fact, Olvir turned the mare aside to a spring, where he groomed her carefully, and burnished the silver fittings of her saddle and bridle. After that he burnished his war-gear, and did what he could to cleanse his dress of dust and travel-stain. Last of all, he bathed in the pool of the spring and combed out his red-gold hair.

"So, Wind of the Desert, now we are fit and seemly for Karolah's presence," he said, and he kissed the mare's broad forehead.

A little later he was cantering down the road which wound through the Frankish camps. The first tents to which he came were deserted; but it was not hard to divine that their owners were to be found in the vast crowd on the river-bank, near the king's pavilion. Evidently the Frankish folk-council was holding one of its meetings.

A touch of the rein sent Zora off to the right across a long stretch of meadow where great herds of cattle were grazing; then around the corner of a little wood, and they dashed into the midst of the viking camp.

Suddenly as steed and rider rushed into view, they had hardly gained Olvir's tent, when the air rang with shouts of welcome, and the Northmen came running from all sides to greet their earl. In the lead came Floki the Crane, bounding like an elk. Yet he was not the first to welcome the sea-king. The flap of Olvir's tent was flung aside, and Rothada sprang out, radiant with pleasure. Close after the girl ran Karl, her st.u.r.dy little half-brother.

"Lord Olvir! Lord Olvir! how joyous it is to see you!"

"And you, king's daughter! Put your foot upon the stirrup--so!"

Drawing the girl up to him, Olvir kissed her ruddy cheek.

"Hold, little vala," he added, as Rothada would have sprung down. "I have a question to ask. Where is your father? and how came you here alone?"

"The king, my father, is near his tent. I came with Roland and Gerold and the others. But Liutrad was sent for by Abbot Fulrad, and Fastrada returned to our sweet Dame Hildegarde. Pepin would not stay with me; but Karl--"

"Fastrada!--And they have gone? Ah, well, then, we 'll go to the king, and you shall sit behind me, sweetheart."

"On the beautiful mare! But Karl--"

"He shall sit in front, if he be a man. So; there you are. Now, king's son!"

The boy ran forward, delighted, and was swung up by Floki, astride Zora's neck.

Then the jam of vikings closed in around their leader, and the shouting broke out again.

"Hold your noise, fools!" cried Floki. "The ring-breaker has no mind to be deafened."

"How--not cheer?" roared back a scarred old berserk, his ferocious face beaming. "Ho! Thor smite the silent ones! Howl your joy, sea-wolves!

Our earl has come again--_Haoi_!"

"Howl! howl, wolves of Hild!