CHAPTER XXI

Black deeds and ill Have they been a-doing, Evil rede Have they wrought at last. LAY OF SIGURD.

Not from fear of pursuit, but because of that which he bore with him, Olvir urged the red mare to her utmost speed. Never even in her prime had Zora coursed over hill and meadow at a swifter pace. But the way was long, and even her easy, swinging gait was agony to the wounded man. When at last she leaped into the war-ring on the Saale bank, her red coat was wet with the blood of her rider. He lay upon her neck, clutching at the silky mane, so far gone that, when Floki caught him from the saddle, he could gasp out but a few brief words: "To the little vala! I 've fought my last fight!"

Then darkness fell upon him, and he lay in Floki's arms as one dead.

Deftly the grim vikings stanched the wounds of their earl and applied healing salves.

"It is but blood-loss," said Floki. "In a day, I wager, he calls for his mare. But now we do his bidding. Bring a litter."

So it was that when Olvir awoke from his swoon, he found himself swinging along on the shoulders of four stout litter-bearers, well on the road to Erfurt, the great market of the Thuringians. As Floki had foretold, he at once called for Zora, and rode into Erfurt. There, hearing that Karl had left Saxon Land and was already at Cologne, on his way to Attigny, he turned and rode Rhineward. But though he sat his saddle all the way to Fulda, and gave his followers little rest, when he reached the monastery he was so utterly spent with weariness and pain that he had to lie over a full week before he could push on.

The bluff Northern monks spared themselves no pains to justify their fame for hospitality; but Olvir's thanks, though sincere, were briefly worded, and he had little to say to any one. When, rested and almost healed, he made ready to push on Rhineward, he handed to Abbot Baugulf a gold arm-ring, in kingly payment for his keep, and stood with unbent head while the priest poured out his fervent blessing.

From Fulda, Olvir rode steadily Rhineward on the old Roman highway, though his face spoke of doubt and indecision. But at Mayence he called Floki aside, and said briefly: "I ride alone to King Karl. Take the men down Rhine to Cologne, and make all ready aboard the longships. Fit them as for a race, and for the North Sea. I will join you in a few days, and, with Freya's aid, I shall not come alone. Another shall ride with me, whether Karl the King is loath or willing."

"Ho, ring-breaker!" croaked Floki, smiling with crafty triumph. "So we at last fare back to old Norway, and you are minded to take with you a bride. There will be joyous howling when your sea-wolves sight their vala. Yet I am minded of another matter. King Karl owes no small fee for the long service of the hero's son and his ready champions. Though we may leave somewhat hastily, on our path to Cologne stands Ingleheim, the king's new burg, which men say is filled with gold and all manner of loot."

"By Thor!" cried Olvir, his eyes flaming; "were I sure the Frank had broken his pledge, not Ingleheim alone should see sword and torch. As it is, he may yet--Christ grant he keep troth! ... No, old Crane. You must fare your way, with the peace-thongs firm knotted. If the Norns have so woven, Zora will bear me to the Rhine far in the lead of the following Franks; and there's rich loot between Cologne and Rhine Mouth."

"And what if the werwolf snare you? Let me ride with you, earl."

"I ride alone. No horse in Frank Land could bear up your weight in the flight from Attigny to Cologne. Yet again, I need you to hold the men in hand. Do not tell them over-much. They will be nimble enough if they but know it is for the little vala. Farewell."

With the word, Zora wheeled and sprang away on the long ride to Treves and across Eastern Neustria to Attigny.

For all her age and the roughness of the way, the red mare could still have covered the journey in four days. But Olvir, mindful that he might have need later of the utmost of her speed and strength, kept a tight rein on the willing mare, and was well content to double the time of the journey.

So it was that when they came to the Aisne bank, a little before nightfall of the eighth day, neither man nor rider was any the worse for the long faring. After bathing in the stream, Olvir rode into Attigny, under cover of the darkness. The little town was swarming with people; but Olvir avoided such of the streets as were torchlit, and, having secured a small room at an inn, presently found a messenger who would go to the king's palace with a token for Liutrad the scribe.

He was seated alone in his room, reading from his Greek Gospels by the light of a torch, when a deep voice sounded without the door, and a moment later the heavy panel had opened and swung to behind a huge figure in sombre priest robes. Olvir caught a glimpse of a white tonsure in the midst of the curly yellow hair, as the new-comer turned to bar the door, and then he was gazing up into Liutrad's honest, smiling face.

"Ring-breaker! Earl!"--how the joyously uttered words called up the care-free past, when the longships rode the storm waves, or they two stood side by side in the sword-game! For the moment, at least, it was not Liutrad the priest, but Liutrad Erlingson, who put his great hands on the shoulders of his friend, and met his keen glance with a look of boyish delight.

"Luck to you, earl!" he cried. "You come in good time. It is but three days since Wittikind and Alf entered Attigny, with a long following of Saxon athelings; and Deacon Alcuin has won over the heroes to peace."

"It would seem that the bloody struggle is at last ended," replied Olvir. "I give God praise, both for the forest-dwellers and for those who have crushed them."

"And for yourself, earl! Our lord king's face bears more of its old-time cheerfulness."

"It well may! I had thought the Saxons unyielding. For two years and more he has harried their land in summer and in winter. How came the great war-earl--"

"He is broken at last; I pray that it may be for good. As you doubtless have heard, after the Mayfields at Paderborn last spring, the king, egged on by his werwolf, once more set to ravaging beyond the Westphalian Gate. We had already marched to the Elbe and were encamped on its banks, when word came of a plot between the Lombards and the Duke of Bavaria, and the king thought better of his plan to cross the Elbe. But Wittikind and Alf, thinking that he was about to come over and lay waste all of Saxon Land yet unharried, sent to him, asking terms of surrender. The king chose out Amalwin to go to them with hostages suitable to their rank, that they might come to him in person. Then, leaving the greater part of the host in the North, he came Rhineward by swift marches, and here at Attigny made ready palace and court, that the wild forest-men might see the greatness of his might and kingship. So it has come about that Wittikind, following after with Amalwin, has seen and wondered, and at last bent to the will of Pepin's son. Soon the war-earl and all those who came with him will bow beside the holy font and receive baptism. Two days more will see the heathen become Christian."

"Christian! By Loki, I grieve for the Christian werwolf, who 'll now famish for lack of her Saxon blood!"

Liutrad drew back, and his face darkened with dread and anger.

"God's curse on that evil woman!" he cried; and then a sudden question sprang from his lips: "How come you here, earl?"

"You may well ask," replied Olvir, and he told of the plotters and the fight in Hardrat's hall.

As he listened, Liutrad's face cleared somewhat.

"By Thor, earl," he exclaimed, "that was sword-play! But the best is that you bring tidings of the plot. It may stand you in good stead." His face darkened again. "God knows you need every vantage. I could swear by the rood the werwolf has never forgotten how you scorned her, there on the Garonne bank. Not for your good did she cause the king to send Worad into Thuringia, when she met them at the Eresburg. It is common talk in the palace that she is putting out her utmost craft to sever your betrothal bond and wed Rothada to the Count of Metz."

"Loki!" gasped Olvir, white with anger. Years had passed since he had last given way to such passion; but now the cold fury came upon him with all its old-time force. Liutrad shrank back before the look in his earl's face.

"Calm yourself, ring-breaker," he muttered. "All may yet go well. In the morning I will bring you to the king."

"The king," repeated Olvir, and then his face flushed with a sudden resolve, and his eyes lost their deadly menace. "Who asks for the king? I would speak with my betrothed."

"But our lord king,--would he not be angered?"

"I would speak to my betrothed, alone."

"Holy Mother! Do not be rash, earl; you 'll ruin all!"

"There is nothing to lose; something may be gained. I 've had enough of waiting. The king himself shall no longer bar my way. Now I would speak with my betrothed. She will know best where we may meet."

"You 're mad, Olvir! What would you do?"

"I do not yet know; only, I must speak with Rothada. As you call me friend, seek out Berga her maid without delay. I must see the little maiden soon; else I cannot answer for what may follow. The fiend clutches at my heart."

"I will go, Olvir; though it is no light task."

"Then go and tell all to your grateful king."

"Why reproach me, earl? Is he not my lord? And yet, I risk his good-will to do you favor."

"Forgive me, lad! Faul tears my heart-strings. Go now, and Freya aid you."

"I go, earl. Yet first, a wolf's-hair. You had best lie close this night. In the morning I will bring you one of Deacon Alcuin's robes. With sandals, you can then fare at will about the burg."

"I 'll wear no priestly footgear; but the gown is well thought of. Hasten now. You may yet see her to-night."