CHAPTER XVIII

For wrong and hatred Shall rest them never, Nay, nor sore sorrow. LAY OF SIGRDRIFA.

The king spoke very truly when he predicted that Olvir's journey Rhineward would be slow. But at Cologne, the monks of Saint Martin of the Isle took charge of the wounded Franks, and Count Amalwin came to receive the king's share of the war-loot. He brought word of the queen-mother's death and her interment beside King Pepin in the Basilica of Saint Denis. After the burial, Karl moved the court to Worms, and returned into Saxon Land by way of Fulda. It was his command that Olvir should at once join the court, with Rothada and her brother.

So the longships were hauled from their sheds, and raced away up Rhine Stream, through the fair Rhinegau and past Mayence, on along the winding streams to Worms.

Old Fulrad greeted the king's Dane hawk with the embrace of a father, and Fastrada welcomed the lovers with such sweet humility that their hearts went out to her. Olvir himself could not withhold his friendship when he came upon the maiden in the midst of the royal children, and saw how even the boy Karl turned to her as to a mother. Only the most malicious of the court gossips failed to praise the girl for her devoted care of Queen Bertrada and the solicitude she had shown for the orphaned children of Hildegarde.

So it happened that when, in the autumn, the king returned from his planting of fortresses and missions in Saxon Land, he found waiting him a merry family group, of whom Fastrada was the life and centre. To this little group Karl at once joined himself, and, in the pleasant days which followed, he frequently put aside the affairs of state for a sail on the Rhine in Olvir's Raven.

Blind to all else in the happiness of his own wooing, Olvir knew nothing of the report that was fast growing from court gossip to widespread rumor, as to the king's intentions toward the daughter of Rudulf. The awakening came to him and to Rothada without warning.

Gerold and Liutrad, who had had in charge the building of the burg and mission-church on the Haze for the newly founded Bishopric of Osnabruk, returned to report their work complete. Neither had cause to complain of the king's praise for their good service; yet the very next day Olvir met them wandering moodily along the Rhine bank, and Gerold's face was clouded with grief.

"What is this, lad?" asked Olvir, with ready sympathy. "You grieve when all others are merry."

"All are merry, Olvir, even our lord king, and yet--and yet not half a year has passed--"

Sobs choked the young Swabian's utterance. He flung himself face down on the turf, and lay quivering.

Olvir flashed a look of inquiry at Liutrad, who shrugged his broad shoulders and muttered tersely: "The king and the witch's daughter, earl."

"It would be more fitting to say 'Count Rudulf's daughter.' But what of her and our lord king?"

"Do you not know, ring-breaker?"

"Why my question?"

"Worad says that it has been rumored for a fortnight, and now it is given out by authority, within a week our lord king weds the daughter of Rudulf."

"Weds--Fastrada!"

"And why not, ring-breaker? Once I scoffed at the maiden's magic ring. I was dog-wise. I know she hoped it would win back your love to her. In that it failed. Yet see now--it has gained her a queen's crown."

Olvir shook his head incredulously.

"I see you still put faith in foolish charms and spells," he said. "It was no bright stone that drew the king's heart. Though I wish that his Majesty had been less hasty, I cannot grudge the maiden her success. She has won it fairly,--not by spell or magic stone, nor altogether by her beauty; but most of all by the kindness of her deeds and the modesty of her bearing. Do not grieve, Gerold. Our lord king has not forgotten your gracious sister. He is giving to her children another mother."

"A stepmother--the witch's daughter!" muttered Liutrad.

"Hildegarde! Hildegarde!" sobbed Gerold.

"Ah, lads!" exclaimed Olvir, "you are unjust to the maiden. I myself have seen how her heart has changed."

"Changed?" retorted Liutrad. "Have you forgotten the past?--what of your werwolf? Do not frown, earl. I lived the four years in the king's hall with the witch's daughter, while you ruled Vascon Land. I saw much of what you seem to have forgotten."

"Enough. I believe that her heart has altered. At the least, she is now the betrothed of our lord king."

"The king has spoken. It is for us to honor his bride," said Gerold, and he rose up, dry-eyed, to return into the burg.

* * * * *

Often as the king was accustomed to visit that city, Worms could never remember so gay a festival as the wedding of the new queen. The narrow streets had been cleaned of excessive filth; bright cloths and banners hung from all the larger buildings, and the townfolk, heedless of the autumn breeze, gaped from window and doorway at the gaily attired lords who filled the streets with their armed henchmen. All Speyer and Mayence and Frankfurt and the country-side for miles around had come to see the royal wedding. The tradefolk had cause to rejoice in a surfeit of custom; and many a year passed before the beggars and slaves forgot the royal bounty doled out to them at the gate of every church and cloister in the burg.

Yet the giving was not all on the part of royalty. Lords and tradefolk vied with each other in their gifts to the king's bride, until Fastrada's bower overflowed with the finest of silks and woollens, coffers of jewels, and the richest garments of women's wear.

But in the midst of her abundance, the daughter of Rudulf sat cold and still, taking no part in the gay chatter and delighted outcry of the bower-maidens. There was a change, however, when, on the morning of the wedding, Rothada came running to her with the gift sent by Olvir,--a necklace of sapphires, the largest in the hoard of Sheik Al Arabi. At sight of the gift, Fastrada's eyes shone with the hue of the all but priceless gems, and she hastened to fasten the necklace about her rounded throat in place of the river pearls sent by her father.

The press of counts and officials in the burg was so great that when they thronged with their retainers into the domchurch, on the heels of the palace lords and the embassies from outland courts, they filled the great edifice to the very doors. As to the common folk, they had to stop outside in the church court and in the street. While they waited in the frosty air, those more favored by birth or fortune stood massed in dense ranks in the nave and feasted their eyes on the royal ceremony. Priests and officials were clad in their most ornate raiment, and the king himself had laid aside his plain dress for a costume unrivalled in magnificence by the most extravagant among his lords.

Very different was the appearance of the bride and her maidens. All were dressed in white silk, and, with their white wimples, looked far more like novices than bridesmaids. Even Rothada, who walked beside the bride, wore no gold or gems. As the girlish procession passed softly around into the chancel, the only jewel to be seen among them was the great opal on the hand which the bride held clasped to her bosom.

But when Fastrada advanced past her maidens to kneel before the high altar, she raised her head, with a sudden upwelling of exultant pride, and Olvir, gazing from his post behind the king, saw with wonder that his sapphire necklace lay about her throat. Then, as he stood staring, he met her glance, which had passed by the splendid figure of the king to fix upon himself. The look flashed upon him like a stab out of the darkness. In a moment it had come and gone, leaving him astounded and full of dread. As the lightning reveals the storm-swept landscape, so that instant's glance had opened to him a glimpse of the girl's inmost soul, torn between triumph and despairing hate and the old love for her lost hero.

Shocked and humiliated, Olvir stood in a half-daze, heeding neither the chanting of the choir nor the solemn words of Fulrad. His heart was numb with a vague foreboding of evil, and his mind whirled with a chaos of wild fancies. For a time he pictured himself as one entangled in the dreadful deeds and bitter fate of the Nibelung heroes.

But when at last Abbot Fulrad had pronounced the benediction, and Karl, placing the diadem upon the brow of his queen, rose up from the altar steps to lead her away, Olvir regained his calmness. He told himself that the queen's strange glance was only an illusion,--that the false light of the waxen tapers had deceived his eyes, and he was a vain fool to have imagined that any thought of himself could have come to the king's bride at the very steps of the altar.

In his revulsion of feeling, he joined heartily in the outcry of the Franks, and, side by side with Rothada, followed the royal couple from the church. But during the wedding feast, while all others stared constantly at the glittering figure of the king and the calm white face of his bride, Olvir was fully satisfied with the sight of his little princess. Though he had overcome the dread which had chilled his heart, he had no wish to meet such another look from the new queen.

The next day, however, Olvir heard with pleasure the summons to appear before the king and the queen in the bower. Even when, having saluted the king, he bent to kiss the slender hand on which glowed the many-hued opal, no thought of doubt or distrust entered his mind.

"All joy to my lord king and his bride!" he cried.

"All joy is ours, Olvir," replied Karl, and he beamed down upon his queen with the fond look of the newly wedded lover. Fastrada sat motionless, her eyes downcast and her face wrapped in an inscrutable calm. As Olvir released her hand and drew aside to where Rothada waited him on their accustomed seat, the queen-bride bent over her opal, and murmured softly: "Tell him of his fortune, dear lord. When one's heart is full of joy or sorrow, it is good to see those around grieve or rejoice with us."

"Such is the nature of man, sweetheart. Listen, Olvir. As part of the morning-gift of my bride, I have granted her kindly wish to do you honor, and so name you Count of the Frisian Mark. Count Teutoric lies wounded at Fitzlar, and Gerold is too young for so grave a charge. But this dear one at my side has called to mind your good service in Vascon Land, and though my selfishness urges the pleasure of your company, I wish to render you the honor which is your due. My ungenerous love would have had me regard my own pleasure before your advancement,--the more so as you should hasten at once to your mark. I will see you again before you sail. Now I go to advise with Alcuin."

"My lord king!" cried Olvir, springing up. But Karl, mistaking his purpose, stepped down from the dais and passed by, with a good-natured shake of the head.

"Render your thanks to your queen, to whom they are due," he called back, as he left the bower.

Olvir took a step or two after the king, only to turn again to Fastrada.

"Dear dame," he said, "I am not one to value lightly the honor put upon me; yet I wish that Gerold or Amalwin had been chosen instead. Let another be given the countship. I am content here beside my betrothed."

"Truly, it is a long way to Frisia," sighed Rothada, and she drew close to the side of her hero.

"A long way!" repeated Olvir, clasping her hand.

For a while Fastrada sat calm and silent as before, fingering the opal on her hand. Then, without raising her eyes or altering her look, she said quietly: "Take the word of a well-wisher, Olvir. It is not pleasing to kings to have their favors cast back upon them. Trust me. My dear lord has chosen you to honor and power above all others of his counts except Barnard, his uncle. Render him the service which lies in you to render, and you may look for more welcome favors to follow."

"I wish one only. Tell me, little vala, would you say no if the king, your father, gave you leave to sail down Rhine Stream with your sea-wolves?"

"If my father bade me go, dear hero--"

"Only one way could you go, child,--as bride of their count," broke in Fastrada, sharply.

"And so it shall be," rejoined Olvir.

Fastrada did not raise her eyes, but her jewelled buskin tapped softly on the dais.

"Foolish children!" she murmured. "You will spoil all when the future is brightest with promise. Would it not seem ungracious, Olvir, to so soon beg another favor? You have yet to fulfil the terms of your betrothal."

"But for this countship, I would go to him and ask that those terms be set aside. Yet you say true; I cannot tax his friendship. My mouth is closed."

"Trust me, Olvir. You will have a friend close to the king's ear. But bear in mind my dear lord's unwillingness to part with his little maid. It may be I can soon overcome that. If not, what is another year of waiting to true lovers? Have I not waited all these years for my king,--my king, 'grey of eye'? Rothada is still very young. I have seen two and twenty summers; she cannot count a score."

"She is none too young to wed, even by Northern custom," answered Olvir.

"True, and we will all pray that your betrothal may have a quick ending. Now send in the maidens from the antechamber, and say your farewells when there is none left to chatter over your parting. You shall have until the turn of the glass for your parting. No, Olvir; give me no thanks. Go quickly; the sweet moments are winged. But bear in mind, if it come to the worst, what is a year of waiting to true lovers?"

"A year!" muttered Olvir, as he drew Rothada's hand through his arm and led her from the bower, "a year! Doubtless, the queen's words are well meant, but already, dear heart, our betrothal year is far gone; and did I not love you all those long years before?"

Rothada made no reply until the curious maidens had hurried into the bower and she stood alone with her lover in the anteroom. Then she placed her arms on his shoulders, and gazed up, clear-eyed, into his troubled face.

"Dear hero," she said, "Fastrada has spoken wisely. We must have patience. In His own good time, God will grant us the fulness of joy."

"Ah, darling, you forget the longing--the hunger of love! How shall I sit at peace among the dreary fens, while my heart is with you in the Rhinegau? Day and night I shall hunger for the sight of your sweet face. By false Loki, would that our lord king might do me a wrong! I should seize you, though it were from the very cloister, and bear you away to Trondheim Fiord!"

"Olvir! It grieves me you should hold such thoughts!" cried Rothada, and she burst into tears. Olvir caught her to him in an agony of contrition.

"Would to Heaven I 'd never been a sea-king!" he muttered. "Dearest heart--little princess, forgive me--do not weep!"

"See, then; I have ceased already," whispered Rothada, and she looked up through her tears, with a brave smile. "Yet I am very sad, my hero. Oh, if only you could go to my father and tell him that your heart was free to fulfil those conditions! Then I would--I would myself beg of him that I might fare down Rhine Stream--with you."

"Little vala! How the longships would fly, winged by the bowing oars of your merry sea-wolves!"--and Olvir strained the girl to him. But then he freed her, and his face grew stern.

"Christ aid us!" he muttered. "My spirit is torn between love and truth. Odin bear witness how I love you, dear; yet even for your sake I cannot bend to the yoke of priestcraft. It would be a lie--a lie!"

"The more do I love you, my hero, for your true heart! If you are mistaken, our Lord Christ will give you light. Trust to His guidance, and however you may be led, I have faith that all will come well in the end."

"In the end--ay, in the end; but I'm weary of waiting. Five long winters have dragged by since we first plighted troth, there in the Southland."

"I was only a child; yet see, Olvir, my collar--the tress which saved you at Roncesvalles--still lies clasped about your throat. It is not a year since my father betrothed us. We must trust in Christ and in the good-will of--of the queen."

"The witch's daughter!" replied Olvir, and his face clouded yet more. "Why did she not look up as she spoke? My mind is not at ease. Her words were so kindly; but still, it seemed to me her meaning--"

"Such doubts are unworthy of you, Olvir. Could a sister--a mother--show greater tenderness than she has shown since Hildegarde left us?"

"The bitterness of parting poisons my thought. Forgive me, dear, if I give way to doubt. Yet there is one in the court whom I can trust to watch over you. Trust Liutrad in all things. He would strike off his sword-hand to give you joy. Wait; a word more, darling. Here is my silver-hilted knife, the work of my own hands."

"What--I bear a dagger?" cried Rothada, and she shrank from the gift.

"Call it a bodkin; only, take and keep it in memory of our parting."

"As you wish, then, dear; yet it is a large bodkin to carry in my bosom, and if I sling it at my girdle, the maidens will mock me for a warrior."

"A terrible hero! Tie the sheath with ribbons, and let the silly maidens laugh."

"No; I will hang it about my neck. It shall lie upon my heart, in pledge of your love and protection. I will cherish it, dear; for it comes from my hero."

Olvir smiled, half sadly, and turned away, while the girl looped a ribbon about her neck to suspend the dagger in her bosom. The movement brought his gaze about to the doorway of the bower, in which stood the withered form of old Kosru the leech, draped about with a gorgeous robe of yellow silk. The moment Olvir's eyes fell upon him, the Magian bent to the rushes, as in former years he had salaamed before the stern Vali Kasim. The servile obeisance irritated the Northman quite as much as the interruption.

"Withdraw, leech!" he said almost harshly.

"I go, lord count. But--may my lord forgive me the bearing!--the gracious queen bids me say that the sand is nearly run."

"Could she not give the glass another turning?"

"_Ai_, lord; but our mighty protector Karolah has gone to the water-side to see you take ship," replied the leech, and, with a dry cackling of toothless laughter, he shuffled about into the bower. As he turned, he thrust his hand beneath his robe, and a soft, metallic clink chimed with his mirthless chuckle.

"_At--ai!_" he muttered; "youth and love are soon sped; but the shining gold is ever a joy and a comfort."

Then his ill-omened figure disappeared from view, and Olvir clasped his little princess to him for the last bitter-sweet moments of parting.