For The White Christ Part 58

"You do not understand," he replied. "Christ grant that wisdom may come to you! Now go. Your wound bleeds. Yet one more word. Bear in mind, should you ever wish to treat with Karl, I stand pledged as hostage for your safety."

Without a word, the Saxon turned away across the islet. But at the water's edge he wheeled and came striding back.

"Listen, viking," he said. "I have misjudged you. Though you fight for the b.l.o.o.d.y Frank, I must own that at heart you are a true man. May the Allfather soon lead you back to your own!"

"Rather, may the White Christ, to whom I bend knee,--I, who despise the Christian priests,--may He bring you to the joy and freedom of His love!"

"His priests have brought us nothing but a clamoring for t.i.thes and the sword of their king. I am content with the G.o.ds of my fathers. Again I say, may you soon return to your own folk and the old G.o.ds of the North.

I could wish you no better fortune."

"I pray that wisdom come to you, hero, before more blood is spilt,"

replied Olvir, earnestly. For a moment after the Saxon turned away, he stood gazing at him; then he also turned and plunged into the stream.

Midway across the narrow channel Gerold came riding to meet him, amazed and angry.

"Ho, Olvir!" he cried; "you 're mad, stark mad, to set the Saxon free!

A stroke would have put an end to him and his evil plots. At the least, he should be brought thrall to the king. Turn back! There's yet time to take him--"

"No, lad. Draw rein. My word is pledged--Wittikind is free."

"You 're mad!--mad! What will the king say? There 'll be no bounds to his anger! We must tell him nothing of this."

"The king shall know all," replied Olvir, and he waded on across to his waiting band.

When, late in the afternoon,--well fed from the loot of a farmstede, but very weary,--the Northmen came dragging back across the borders of the battlefield, their earl commanded them to make camp and gather in their dead and wounded. He himself rode on with Gerold, over the Haze and into the Frankish camp. The Swabian's face was clouded with fear for his friend; but Olvir went to the meeting, calm almost to indifference.

As they approached the royal pavilion, before which a group of war-counts were gathered about the king, Olvir was astonished to perceive in their midst the kindly face of Abbot Fulrad. He saw the old councillor nod and smile at him, and then the high war-counts, of whom only Rudulf was missing, rushed to greet him and Gerold. All others than Amalwin were fairly drunken with the wine of victory.

"Hail, heroes!" shouted Worad. "What tidings of the beaten wolves? We were too far spent to follow for long, but your iron vikings--"

"Would that we had stopped as well," replied Gerold, moodily.

"How then?" demanded Karl, rising from a heap of furs. "Did the rebels turn and beat you off? Where is Rudulf?"

"Each went his own way, lord king," replied Olvir, quietly. "We followed the Danes--"

"And they outran you?"

"No, lord king; we overtook them, and I fought with Wittikind."

"And won!" shouted Gerold.

"Where's the rebel's head?" rejoined Count Hardrat. "Were I a slayer, his skull should serve me for mead-bowl. Satan seize the traitors! They all but broke my own skull with their sling-stones."

"The hero's head is on his shoulders,--where Count Hardrat is free to seek it," said Olvir, coldly.

"Speak out!" exclaimed the king. "You fought the Westphalian, and won; yet he still lives. Do you then bring him back in thrall-bonds?"

"No, sire. When the hero's sword fell from his grasp, I spoke with him a little while, and then told him to go free."

"Free! King of Heaven!"

In an instant the king's smiling face was ablaze. He sprang up, and stood towering above the Northman in speechless anger, his hand gripped hard on the hilt of Ironbiter. There were few among the war-counts who did not whiten with dread as they saw the great blade half drawn from its sheath.

But Olvir stood quietly in his place, and faced the king with a look of calm friendliness that bordered on pity. As he met the look, Karl's hand fell away from the sword-hilt, and he turned to pace across the front of the tent. Twice he repeated the swift movement, and when he paused to again face the Northman, all his anger was gone, and in its place only bewilderment.

"Lord Christ!" he muttered; "a little more, and I 'd have struck my heart's friend. Ah, Olvir, why try me so? You were mad to set that traitor free,--him, the head and front of all the heathen cause!"

"Is there then no end to what you would ask of me, sire? The Saxon reproached me as the one who had turned his victory into bitter defeat.

Have I not waded in blood for you,--the blood of my brothers? I could not strike down that hero when he stood before me bare-handed, and death were far less bitter than the shame of thraldom. The thought came to me, sire, how he was a brave man, fighting for his country. He at least is no forsworn traitor, however many of his fellows may be."

"You forget that at Ca.s.seneuil you placed your hands between my hands.

As liegeman, you should have held my service above all else."

"Not so, lord king. I own to a service above your service,--the will of Christ."

"Was it His will to free that heathen duke, who, more than any other man, withstands the spreading of the Gospel?"

"I and mine have slain many warriors in your service, lord king; I am not yet Christian enough to slay one in the name of Christ."

"The more shame to own it, Dane," muttered Hardrat. "But for what else could one look from a heathen?"

"Curb your scoffing tongue, drunkard," commanded Karl. "Prudence should counsel you to silence. There are those who say that the false horn which, in the midst of the battle, called your Neustrians to retreat, is the horn which hangs at your belt."

"It is a lie, lord king!--a foul lie! I am no coward!"

"I know that well, Thuringian; yet I have known of brave traitors.

Enough. You will return to your s.h.i.+re when Count Rudulf marches homeward. See to it that neither he nor the _missi_ have cause to report drunkenness or ill deeds against you, if you do not wish to lose your counts.h.i.+p as well."

As the Thuringian shrank back before the stern rebuke, Karl turned again to Olvir, and his face softened.

"I have been harsh, lad. I even failed to hear you out. You said that you talked with Wittikind before you set him free?"

"I sought to show him the hopelessness of this b.l.o.o.d.y struggle, and to win him over to surrender."

"But he would not listen?"

"At the least, I stand pledged as his hostage, should he wish to treat with your Majesty. I trust that I have sown seed in his heart that in the end will bear fruit."

"Ah, Olvir, were it not for your pride of spirit, I should look to see you barter sword and helmet for the cowled robe, as have more than one of my war-counts. But enough, lad. It is not fair to keep you longer; go within the tent."

CHAPTER XVII

A may of all mays-- Bright in bower.