CHAPTER I

He waxed under welkin in worth and honor till the folk around him, far and near, ... hearkened to him. BEOWULF.

Four long years had come and gone, and at last the dreaded loss had fallen upon the common folk of Vascon Land. The rule of the young Dane count, who from the first had dispensed a justice throughout his mark as keen and as bright as his Saracen sword, had come to an end. The king had at last given way to the request of Olvir, whose followers had become unutterably wearied of the small pleasure to be gained in hunting out thieves and lawless lords; and that he might do honor to his loyal liegemen, Karl had sent as special _missi_ Abbot Fulrad and Count Gerold to take over the mark.

After the ceremony the _missi_ had journeyed on to Toulouse to place the rulership in the hands of Count William, for he was the guardian of Louis, the survivor of the royal twins born at Casseneuil, whom Karl, a year since, had caused the Pope to anoint as King of Aquitania.

When they came sailing back down the Garonne from Toulouse, the _missi_ found the five longships of the Norse fleet lying moored at Bordeaux, all newly refitted and scraped and painted, in readiness for the voyage north. So it chanced that the two Franks had clear proof of the nature of Olvir's rule; for the quays of the city swarmed with townfolk who had come to bewail the departure of their just count.

"Ah, Olvir," cried Abbot Fulrad, as they boarded the Raven, "our lord king did well to keep you here in the South all these years. I doubt if the _missi_ will bring such satisfying reports of William's rule."

"There will be some who will not grieve at my going," answered Olvir, meaningly. But the smile left his firm lips as he turned to gaze at the sorrowful crowds on the quays. Gerold, who came and stood beside the Northman, had lost little of his old-time boyishness; but Olvir's dark face was marked by the lines of rulership and shadowed by habitual thought. Floki could have told the curious guests that during the past two years his earl had spent no small part of his time in poring over the runes of the White Christ and the strange book of the Asiamen which Count Roland had brought to his foster-brother with the gem-pouch, out of Saragossa.

As the Raven at last cast off from the moorings and glided away down the Gironde in stately lead of the fleet, Olvir waved his hand to the weeping townfolk, and turned quietly to Abbot Fulrad.

"Liutrad has written fully of your bitter Saxon war," he said. "The heroes have met on the stricken field. Again you have beaten Wittikind back into the North, and men say that the war has been fought to a glorious end. Yet I have lain here in the South with sheathed sword, and--do not grieve."

"You may well say that, my son!" exclaimed Fulrad. "Far nobler are the victories of peace than war-won fame. If you have lost the wild joy of battle, you have gained the love of the folk you ruled, and a happiness--"

"Love and happiness? Ay; but not the love and happiness for which I long," sighed Olvir, and his hand went to the double strand of chestnut hair clasped around his throat. "Listen, Father Fulrad. Liutrad once wrote that he had told you of my betrothal. It was a secret which promised me joy; but it has brought me sorrow instead. Through all these years I have sent message after message to my little may, ever faithful to my pledge, ever longing for a word of love in answer. But she is silent,--she has forgotten me in your cold cloisters."

"Forgotten!" cried Gerold, in protest. But Fulrad made a hasty sign to him to be silent, and answered Olvir gravely: "Be patient, my son. Much may chance in so long a time. The maiden was yet a child. None can say whether or not she has forgotten you. However that may be, bear in mind that you have won high favor in the king's eye. That alone should give you joy."

"Nor have you altogether lacked the joy of battle, Olvir," added Gerold. "Liutrad has told me how, at the very first, you searched out the mountain Vascons in their fastnesses, and avenged the death of Roland."

"Vengeance? I found little joy in that. There was more in the finding of Ironbiter, my brother's sword, which he flung among the swart Saracens, and which Floki took from a dying Vascon. I 'd had enough of blood."

"No need to tell us, my son, how you turned to the arts of peace. You have ruled with wisdom; you have tempered justice with mercy. Few counts give heed to the welfare of those they rule. You, not content with the administration of justice, have aided the landfolk out of your own treasure. The Lombards whom you brought in have shown the folk better methods of tillage, and I hear that our own men have sought to teach the rude shipwrights of Bordeaux your Norse art of shipbuilding. Our lord king will not soon forget such deeds."

"If he approve them, why, then, does he deal so harshly with the Saxons?" demanded Olvir, with sudden heat. "No Frank pays the tithe he has put upon the forest-folk. He has taken away their cherished freedom, and saddled them with stern laws that will goad them to revolt."

"No, no, lad; only to crush out their stubborn heathenism."

"A sight for the heathen fiend-gods!--a world-hero priest-ridden!"

"Saint Michael, no, Olvir!" cried Gerold, and he burst into a boyish laugh. "You 'd not say that had you been with us in Rome. Listen! It is now some five years since one of the learned deacons found a parchment, under seal by the Kaiser Constantine, whom men call the Great, giving to the Holy Father the title to Rome and all Italy. Yet our lord king set aside the claim, and, as you know, caused the Holy Father to crown little Carloman as King of Italy, under the name of Pepin."

"By Thor! those are good tidings. I had not heard that part of the tale, though I heard of the crowning of the bairns. William of Toulouse saw to that. The short-nosed count wrote to me, in the name of King Louis of Aquitania, demanding aid in his war against the Saracens. I sent back word that the Count of the Vascon Mark was not the man of any bairn or of any bairn's nurse."

"We heard of that sending, Olvir, even in the Saxon Mark," said Gerold. "William did not trouble you the second time."

"No; but the shrewd Neustrian waited his chance, as you know. And now, by Thor, I'm done with all that. Like my sea-wolves, I 've sickened of this mild Southland. Ho for the gritting snow and the icy breath of the frost-giant!" and the sea-king thrust over the Raven's tiller to steer out into the open sea.

The voyage Rhineward was very boisterous for the season, and Abbot Fulrad spent much of his time on a cot beneath the Raven's quarter-deck. But Gerold proved himself a better sailor, and after the second day was able to keep his place with Olvir beside the tiller. Standing thus, with the noble ship beneath him racing at the head of the fleet, Gerold could not only comprehend, but could share in the Northman's keen enjoyment of the whistling gale and the high-leaping waves. He felt, as few landsmen might, the wild fascination of the viking life.

But when Olvir began to talk of Trondheim Fiord and the joys of a home visit, Gerold quickly sought to turn his thoughts back to the honors and friendships he had won in Frank Land. The king was eager to see his Dane hawk, and it was not right for Olvir to delay for even a short visit in the North. What might he not expect of the king's favor, when Worad, who was not half so learned, had been raised to the judgment-seat of the Count Palatine? Then there was Liutrad, beloved of all in the king's hall, and one of the foremost pupils in Alcuin's School of the Palace,--ah, yes, Alcuin! Surely Olvir would be eager to meet the famed Anglo-Saxon scholar, whom the king had at last induced to come to his court.

To all this Olvir listened with a cold ear. But when, having vainly tried to arouse interest by tales of Fastrada's unsuccessful suitors, and of her reputed dabblings in witchcraft with the Magian leech Kosru, Gerold at last gained leave of Fulrad to tell how the king had finally yielded to the wish of Hildegarde, and bidden Rothada to leave the Convent of Chelles, in which she had so long secluded herself, he struck the right note to stir his companion. He had then only to add the rumor that the king's purpose in compelling the presence of the daughter of Himiltrude was to betroth her to some outland king.

Here were tidings which touched Olvir to the quick. From the moment he heard them he was aflame to reach the Rhine and the hall of Karl. He might have been willing to forgo the king's favor; but the possibility of Rothada--the little vala--being betrothed to another roused all the tender love and affection which he felt toward the maiden, and intensified that love tenfold by a single touch of jealousy.

His should be the king's daughter, if it were within the power of man to win her! The thought that the king planned to give her to another stirred him to deepest anger, which, when it left his heart, gave place to a great longing to see again the little maiden's violet eyes and pure young face.

And so, while the Raven drove on up the stormy channel, the sea-king no longer saw rising before him the iron cliffs of old Norway. In his thoughts were now pictured the quiet convent garden of Chelles, and in that garden, walking among the roses with Gisela, his little may, sweeter than ever, and no longer a child.