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 Casseneuil. 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.

Assured 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 sturdy 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! He, our hersir, He, our hero, Have we here!"

rang out the mellow voice of a skald from the thick of the crowd, and the quickly turned verse was echoed by a roar to be heard even at Casseneuil.

Olvir's eyes sparkled, and he wheeled Zora slowly around, that he might see all. As the shouting died away, he lifted his hand, and answered the boisterous welcome: "Greeting to you, sons of Thor! My heart leaps at the sight of viking faces! But now I must go to the Frank king. I will come again before nightfall. Arm yourselves as for battle, that I may see if the camp-sloth has overtaken you."

"If one man shows a rust-speck on mail or helmet, strike off my hand," said Floki.

"The Crane has looked to it!" grumbled the old berserk. "There are softer-spoken leaders. But he has kept all well in hand, even as against Liutrad's red pig."

"I will hear of that later; now I must be going. Farewell," replied Olvir, and Zora passed with her triple burden through the opening crowd.

The mare's gentle canter soon covered the distance to the assembling-ground of the national council. But when she left the last bit of coppice, young Karl, who held the reins, turned her away from the immense gathering of freemen to a little grove that shaded a company of priests, court-officials, and war-counts. The royal standard, planted before the grove, marked the presence of the king. Here, in fact, was the inner council of the Frankish national assembly, whence the sovereign, surrounded by his high liegemen, both lay and ecclesiastical, sent over his decrees to be confirmed by the voice of the freemen.

When Zora approached the grove, the king was reading from a long scroll, and his audience had eye and ear only for the royal speaker. Not until Zora thrust her head over Count Amalwin's heavy shoulder, were the new-comers perceived. The Saxon turned with a frown, to start back and stare at the Northman, open-mouthed. Olvir leaned toward him, smiling.

"So, Saxon," he said quietly, "what do you now say of my mare, and what of her master? We crossed Rhine Stream, and more,--I held your Grey Wolf by the throat."

"How--Rudulf!" shouted Amalwin, forgetting all else in his surprise.

The cry rang through the grove like an alarm, and king, counts, and priests alike turned to stare at the intruders. The first look on many faces was one of resentment; but then, just beyond the oaken throne, Roland sprang up and came running with a cry of greeting: "Olvir! Olvir! Welcome back again!"

Close after him ran Liutrad and Gerold, while from all sides the liegemen pressed forward with excited shouts: "The Dane! It is the Dane count! He cannot have gone and come already! Saint Michael, what a mare!"

Then Gerold caught Zora's bridle, while behind him Roland and Liutrad clasped Olvir by the hands. So escorted, with the king's son before him and the king's daughter at his back, the young Northman rode forward to the very edge of the dais. There his friends stepped aside, and Olvir would have dismounted. But Karl stayed him with a gesture, and came forward to lay his great palm on Zora's forehead.

"By the King of Heaven," he muttered, "well did I name you my Dane hawk! Six and twenty days ago you rode northward. Have you, in truth, crossed the Rhine?"

"To Fulda and beyond, lord king," replied Olvir; "to the lair of the Grey Wolf."

"Beyond Fulda! And how did the old count greet you?"

"We played at back-breaking till I throttled him. Then we rode to Fulda, and he made his mark on what I asked him."

"How, Dane," demanded the purple-faced Count Hardrat; "do you claim to have outwrestled Rudulf of the Sorb Mark? I cannot swallow that boast."

Olvir's lip curled, and he bent over toward the speaker.

"Shall I prove the boast--now?" he asked softly.

"Ay; now!" retorted the Thuringian. But then the soft hand of Duke Lupus fell upon his shoulder: "Go easy, friend. Count Olvir has already tossed you over his head; he will toss you again."

"Enough!" interrupted Karl, imperiously. "We will have no brawling. I answer for Lord Olvir's truth."

"A word, lord king," called out Amalwin. "I know that Rudulf vowed never to give his daughter to one who could not best him at his own game."

"And here is Rudulf's mark to my betrothal lines," added Olvir.

"I need no such proof of the deed, my gerfalcon. Put up your scroll, and dismount. Give me the child."

At the bidding, Olvir tossed young Karl into his father's arms, and Roland swung down Rothada. Then Olvir leaped from the saddle. As the foster-brothers parted, Liutrad touched his earl's shoulder.

"Have no thought for the mare, ring-breaker," he said. "Gerold and I will groom her with our own hands."

Among the first of the company to congratulate the Northman on his wonderful ride was Duke Lupus.

"I rejoice, hero, that you are here to be with us on the morrow," he concluded. "Count Roland and your learned young Liutrad have planned a boating party up the Lot. The queen herself will attend, and also one whom I need not name."

"My thanks for the good tidings," replied Olvir, and his hand closed with cordial firmness about the Vascon's soft palm.

Then Lupus glided away, and Count Amalwin thrust forward a slim, hazel-eyed young warrior, whose firm-set jaw alone saved his delicate face from girlish softness.

"Here, hero," called out the Saxon; "you have wrestled with Rudulf; here now is one, half a monk, who will strive to match you in book-craft,--Worad, Count of Metz."

"Not I, hero!" protested the young man. "Already Liutrad has worsted me. If the man be so learned, how dare I meet the master? Rather, measure your lore with Abbot Fulrad."

"You would set me against all the learning of Frank Land," said Olvir, smiling.

"That we shall, lad," replied the king. "For what should we gain learning, if not to impart it? My war-counts, alas, give little heed to letters."

"The greater heed we give to our swords, lord king," mumbled Amalwin.

"To your trenchers, rather!" laughed Karl. "And now I myself would give heed to the same. Here comes my cupbearer, to tell us that the meat cools on the spits."

Giving over Rothada and her brother into the charge of the page, the king led the way to the table with a hastiness that betrayed a hunter's appetite.

Olvir soon found himself seated at a rustic board, between Roland and Worad. Overhead the breeze sighed through the green foliage; but the birds of the grove had flown away, frightened by the clamor. After no little confusion, seats were found for all the company, and a crowd of attendants served the guests. Very shortly the loud talk of the warriors lulled, and little else was to be heard than the click of knives and spoons.

In the midst of the feast the air shook with a great rolling outcry that sent Olvir's hand to the hilt of Al-hatif. But the Franks went on with their eating as though nothing had happened. Roland, however, observed Olvir's movement, and hastened to explain.

"It is the assembly," he said. "The freemen have brought their deliberations to an end."

Olvir smiled ironically: "Otkar had somewhat to say of your Frankish _folk-thing_. Your warriors meet to shout for what the king bids them. In the North at the _thing_ all alike--kings, earls, and common freemen--stand on the same footing. So it is in Saxon Land, and so it was once among the free Franks."

"You speak boldly, Count Olvir," rejoined young Worad of Metz. "I might answer that we free Franks have passed the stage of the barbarous Saxons. The Romans were very wise; we have learned from them."

"And Rome to-day is a grave-mound of dead might. Its folk bent knee to the foul kaisers as to gods, and their realm crumbled away. Kings alone cannot long uphold kingdoms. The strength of a land lies in its freemen."

"You jest, Olvir," protested Roland. "See how our folk have become bound together and our strength been magnified since Karl the Hammer seized the reins of power in his single grasp."

"But why were you weak before? Your freemen then had as little part in the making of your laws as they have now. Already they were falling into slavery and serfdom. Even during my few weeks in your land, I have heard how your freemen, to save themselves from pillage and starvation, are fast pledging themselves as followers of the counts. Lucky for you so great a one as yonder world-hero sits on the throne! When he is gone, I foresee evil for Frank Land."

"You speak words of ill-omen, lord Dane," said Worad, flushing. "The Franks have never been stronger. All outland folk tremble before Karl our King."

"Not all! I know of one folk--"

"Hold, Olvir, for my sake, if not for your own," broke in Roland. "Nothing but bitterness can come of wrangling. Look! there comes the folk-herald to tell the findings of the assembly."

"That is he," assented Worad, "the small man on the grey horse."

The herald leaned from his saddle to speak with the king, and then, at a nod from Karl, he rose in his stirrups and shouted down the long table: "Ho, lords of the Franks' king! learn that the freemen of the realm have confirmed all laws sent before them by his Majesty, and they give their full voice for war against the pagan Saracens."

As the shout which greeted this announcement died away, the herald's voice again rang through the grove; "Hearken, all, lords of the king! He who is not prepared let him make ready. Two days hence the host will march."

At this command the war-counts filled the grove with their shouts, and their zeal was so great that many rushed off leaving half-filled trenchers.

No Frank was more pleased than was Olvir.

"Come, brother!" he cried. "I must see to my vikings. They will be armed for my return."

"You will find them brisk in action. Floki has not let them lie about idle."

"That I can well believe. Farewell for the time, Count Worad."

"Until the morning, lord count, if nearness to the time of marching does not prevent our boating trip."

"It may chance that Lupus cannot come; but that would be small loss," said Roland, bluntly. "There is nothing to stay the others. Are your men ready for the road?"

"Amalwin has seen to that."

"And Floki to mine, I could swear, brother," said Olvir. "Yet we should go and see. Again, farewell."

Worad waved his slender hand, and the sword-brothers joined the crowds of departing warriors.