For The White Christ Part 59

LAY OF GUDRUN.

Olvir caught the look in the king's eyes, and hastened to the pavilion, without waiting to ask questions. A moment, and he had darted through the loose-hanging curtains of the entrance and stood staring about in the gloom of the great canopy. Then, almost at his shoulder, there came a cry of glad surprise, and Rothada sprang up from her father's couch, blus.h.i.+ng with delight and sweet confusion. Wearied by the long journey from the Rhine, she had lain down to rest after the noon meal and had fallen asleep.

Before the little princess could even smooth her ruffled tresses, Olvir had his arm about her shoulders and was bending to kiss her. At first, overcome by shyness, she hid her face upon his shoulder; but the ring-mail was cold and hard, and love bade her look up.

"So, that is better, darling," said Olvir, as the violet eyes, beaming with love and happiness, were raised to his own. "Now you gaze up bravely, like a true king's daughter."

"Dear hero! Surely I should be a little brave, when you have had to undergo such fearful dangers--that terrible battle! I shall live in constant dread lest next time--"

"Foolish maiden! Fear slays far greater numbers than the sword. Where is your faith in the White Christ? See now; He has given us this great happiness."

"It is hard to be always trusting, Olvir. But you renew my faith. Here is joy to repay me for my dread."

"Sweet joy, sweetheart! I had given over all thought of seeing you until the host returned Rhineward."

"If only it had been a happier cause that brought me! Dame Bertrada, my father's mother, was stricken down with a sickness which none of the leeches could ease, and when Abbot Fulrad, compelled by matters of state, decided that he must come north, under guard of the Burgundian levy, the queen-mother gave command that I should go with him, to bear her message to my father. The good abbot has lost none of his liking for you, dear hero. He was only too well pleased to bring me in his following."

"He has brought me joy!--But the queen-mother? G.o.d grant that the old dame may yet find health!"

"Kosru the leech will return to Mayence with Abbot Fulrad. His magic drugs heal where others fail. Of all whom he has attended, only Hildegarde, my beloved mother--"

A sob choked Rothada's utterance, and tears sprang into her eyes.

Olvir caught her face between his hands, and, stooping quickly, kissed away the tears.

"Do not grieve, dear heart," he said. "She rests in the joy and peace of G.o.d's presence, where we shall meet again with her when we, too, go hence. Tell me now of Dame Bertrada. By what lucky chance could you be spared from her bedside?"

"Another cares for her, Olvir, with greater skill than I can give--Fastrada--"

"Fastrada!"

"Be just, dearest. The maiden has surely changed. Before Hildegarde--pa.s.sed on--she was softened, and now she gives all her time to good deeds. Even Dame Bertrada has no word against her. If only I might so rid myself of vanity and selfishness!"

"That were impossible, sweetheart,--you have nothing of either."

"Olvir! But tell me of my warriors. Oh, this terrible battle! I weep at the thought of the slain."

"Never weep for a viking who falls in battle, little vala. He goes hence rejoicing."

"That is no Christian joy."

"Christian, but far from Christ-like. I have now seen your father's Christian warriors in battle. They rejoiced in the b.l.o.o.d.y play even as did my grim heathen and--myself."

"Dear hero, I know that you fought only that you might aid in the coming of Christ's kingdom."

"No, Rothada--G.o.d forgive me! I came to the battlefield with nothing in my heart but good-will toward the forest-dwellers, and then I thrust my sword among them with wolfish delight."

"Yet you gave a.s.sent, Olvir, when my father said that there was no other way to bring about the highest good to the stubborn heathen."

"For the better way was closed long since! Ah, well; let us put the unwelcome thought behind us."

"I, too, might give way to grief, dearest. My brother--"

"The luckless bairn! How is he now?"

"He lies on the couch across; but do not go near. The leech has given him a sleeping draught, and he must not be wakened before dawn. He is still dazed from the blow on his head, and though Kosru gives promise that in time he will recover, he must now have the utmost of care. That is why I must also go when Father Fulrad takes him and Kosru back to Mayence."

"So soon--but I will not complain. Though but for a day or two, Father Fulrad has surely brought me joy!"

"I am glad that you are pleased, dear hero. Now free me, that I may make ready for the evening meal."

Olvir ran his fingers through the girl's tangled tresses, and laughed with a sudden outburst of boyish delight.

"Be seated, king's daughter," he exclaimed. "Yonder is a stool. Seat yourself, and I shall be your tiring-woman."

"No, no, you foolish hero!" protested Rothada, blus.h.i.+ng.

But Olvir caught up from a bench an ivory comb and smilingly led the girl to the seat.

When, a little later, Karl entered the pavilion, he saw the boldest of his war-counts on his knees before the daughter of Himiltrude, carefully plaiting the long tresses of chestnut hair which fell down her bosom.

Rothada drooped her head before the astonished look of her father, overcome with shame; but Olvir continued his braiding with quiet unconcern. The king stood where he had first paused, silently watching the lovers. Soon surprise gave way to other emotions, and he smiled half sadly. Very patiently he waited until the last gay ribbon had been knotted, and then, when Olvir would have risen to salute him, he held up a restraining hand, and went and fetched a stool to seat himself beside the blus.h.i.+ng girl.

"You do well to be happy while you may, children," he said gently. "The world is harsh and full of trials."

"But love is heaven upon earth," replied Olvir.

"True love; though earth cannot hold it long. But I did not come to mar your happiness. Only, I would sit with you while they prepare the meal.

At dawn I ride over the fells."

"At dawn!" exclaimed Rothada, and she lifted her head quickly to look at Olvir.

Karl drew her to him, and patted her glossy tresses.

"Look rather at me, child," he said. "I go at dawn to bear the Magian leech to the bedside of my mother; he stays here. I see plainly, Olvir, that you have had your fill of bloodshed, and so I give you the command which I had set aside for another. We have taken great booty and a mult.i.tude of thralls, and in turn have suffered many wounded among our bold warriors. Yours shall be the charge to guard all to the Rhine."

"My lord king!" cried Olvir, and he sprang up to put his grat.i.tude into words. But Karl motioned him to fetch a stool instead.

"Be seated, kinsman," he said gravely. "You owe me no thanks. It is little enough for what you have done. In a few weeks I may call you into the field again--and here I come thrusting myself in, to take from you a portion of your brief season of happiness."

"You do not take, sire, you add," replied Olvir, his face glowing. To be named as kinsman by Karl, son of Pepin,--Karl, the world-hero,--meant more to him than words could express.

Karl smiled, and turned from the happy lover to his betrothed.

"What is your word, child?" he demanded, half playfully.

Rothada raised his great hand to her lips and kissed it, as she murmured her answer: "Our Lord Christ is very good to me to give me such a father and--and--"