CHAPTER XXII

But we in no wise Might love withstand, And mine head must I lay On my love, the ring-breaker. LAMENT OF ODDRUN.

Liutrad did not return to the inn until mid-morning of the next day, and then it was to fling himself down with a sigh of discouragement.

"The werwolf is keen of eye and ear," he muttered.

"Rest easy, lad. You've done your best. Another day will see fairer luck."

"If only Father Fulrad were here to aid us! Had he lived, all would have been well."

"I could ask no more from any friend, son of Erling, than what you will do for me. Now I will eat, that my full strength may come to me."

"You have not rested much this night, Olvir. Your war-gear shimmers like starlit ice."

"A bride might use the shield as mirror, for all its dints. Eat now. Here is plain fare, but toothsome."

"May Worad eat bitter herbs when he sits at board! The base wretch, to covet a friend's betrothed!"

"Waste no thought on him, lad. The werwolf alone--"

"True; her ring holds him with its magic glamour, even as it has cast its spell over our lord king."

"Ring or no, she is at the root of all the trouble. The world-hero is as wax in her white hands. I have talked much with the Franks since you left me. It is she who has turned away the king's heart from mercy. Not the Saxons alone, but the nearest of his liegemen have suffered from his harshness; and I must have my share, though the dints in my shield and helmet should read me title to fairer reward. Ah, well, better luck in Skuld's hand! Another day may bring a rift in the clouds."

"Saints grant it!" muttered Liutrad; and the two fell to eating in moody silence.

Yet Olvir's confidence in the future was not mistaken. Before evening Berga found Liutrad a chance to speak with her mistress; and he prevailed upon Rothada to set a meeting for that very night.

Immediately after nightfall Olvir, cowled and wrapped about in the Benedictine gown brought to him by Liutrad, strolled with his friend across the burg and around the great bulk of the palace to a shadowy recess between the queen's apartments and the quarters of the court-officials. Here they found Berga waiting for them beside a small door used by the servants, and Liutrad addressed her openly: "Here is my brother priest for your sick friend."

"Let him follow," answered the woman, and she led the way into the foul-odored passage. Olvir silently entered at her heels, leaving Liutrad to watch at the door.

Within was pitchy darkness, broken only by an occasional gleam from the rooms where the house-slaves chattered over their evening meal or lay about on their straw pallets, easing the toil of the day with broad jests and coarse raillery. A flight of steps, steep and narrow, took Olvir and his guide beyond the servants' quarters, and in the utter blackness the Northman had need of his quick ear to follow the woman's lead. She glided softly from passage to passage without a word, stopping only for a touch of warning when the silence was broken by the muffled clink of Olvir's mail beneath his monk's robe. Some little time passed before the woman paused beside a curtained doorway.

"The princess waits within, hero," she whispered. "Enter, and comfort her. I must watch over the bairns, lest they waken and call for their sister. May Freya soften the king's heart, that your love run smooth!"

"My thanks to the good wisher," replied Olvir, and he stepped between the curtains.

He found himself in a large chamber, half lighted by the moonbeams which streamed through the high, casemented window. Where the rays struck upon the opposite wall, the grotesque figures of the tapestry-hangings stood out with such startling distinctness that Olvir stepped back and grasped the hilt of Al-hatif beneath his robe. But then a slender figure glided out into the moonlight from the shadow beside the window, and he ran forward to clasp his betrothed in his arms.

"Little vala,--little vala!" was all he could say, for the words choked in his throat at sight of her tears.

For a while she leaned her head upon his shoulder, and wept as though her heart would break; and he held her to him, unable to put into words the tenderness and compassion which filled his whole being. At last, however, she dried her tear-wet face on his robe, and looked up with a pitiable attempt to be brave.

"My hero, my hero!" she whispered.

"Little vala! Has the witch's daughter sucked your blood, that you look so white and wasted? May Hel, Loki's daughter, wither the red lips of that werwolf! May she--"

"Cease--oh, cease, Olvir! Curses ever come home to the sender. This may be the last time we shall meet here on earth. Let there be no wormwood with the bitter-sweet."

"No, Rothada, this is not our last meeting here on the fair earth."

"Will you then give way to my father? Liutrad said--"

"He said aright. I will not sell my soul, though it be for your father's kingdom. Yet, before God and man, you are my betrothed wife. I have won you by service such as few have given the king, and--we love each other. Your father gave pledge he would send for me, and he broke troth. It is hopeless--nothing can turn his course while the witch's daughter drives--it is hopeless to appeal to him."

"What then, Olvir? Your words fill me with dread; you cherish the thought of some wild deed."

"Should it fill you with dread, darling, that I would have you wed me?"

"No, dear one; my heart sings with gladness at the word. If only it might come true!"

"You have but to say it, king's daughter."

"Would you have me wed you without the banns, Olvir,--in secret? It could not be, dear hero! When the truth became known, the anger of my father would pass all measure. He would never forgive us."

"I look to your father for nothing. He has paid me ill for loyal service. I shall now break the bond which has held me to him. Beneath the priest-robe you feel the war-gear, king's daughter. Zora is saddled for the road. Come! the night is before us. Dawn will see us far on our way to the Rhine."

"O Christ! O Holy Mother, save me!" cried the girl; and she shrank away from her lover, wide-eyed and trembling.

"Listen, darling; listen to me!" he protested. "I would not force you. Only, I beseech you, by the love you bear me, come! At Cologne lie my longships,--my ocean-racers. Who may overtake us when we sail down Rhine Stream? _Haoi!_ how the ships spring to the bowing of the long oars! Behind us lie the flat shores of Frisia; we ride the wild North Sea; before us tower the iron cliffs of old Norway; up Trondheim Fiord we glide, where the free men of Lade wait to welcome their earl and his bride!"

The Northman's black eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and he held out his arms. But still Rothada shrank away.

"It cannot be, dear hero!" she sighed. "It cannot be!"

"Where, then, is the love of my betrothed?"

"I love you none the less, dear, that I cannot go with you."

An agony of grief distorted Olvir's face. He flung himself down before the girl and clasped her feet.

"Come with me,--come with me!" he begged. "Here is only sorrow and parting. The king is iron."

"Yet I am his daughter. There is still hope for us, Olvir. I will plead with my father."

"And if he deny you?"

"God forbid! I can then only return to Chelles."

"To the cloisters! My curse on them! Listen, king's daughter. You are not fated for the nun's veil. That would not fill in fullest measure the spite-cup of the witch's daughter. She will wed you to our girl-faced Count of Metz."

"That is no new tale to me, Olvir; yet I can promise you this much,--I shall never be the bride of another than yourself. If I may not choose the cloister, I will choose that which lies in my bosom."

"You bear my knife?"

"Always--ever ready for use against the bearer."

Rothada put her hand to her breast, and the blue steel of the dagger gleamed in the moonlight. Olvir took the blade from her, and pressed it to his lips.

"Be true, knife of my forging!" he muttered. "There is yet one hope--if it fail, strike true; and when you pierce her heart, I will plunge Al-hatif into my breast."

"Olvir!--you grieve me; I cannot bear it!"

"Why grieve, king's daughter? If we may not wed in this life, we shall be united forever in the life beyond."

"There is still hope; I will go to my father when he is alone, and implore him to grant us happiness."

"It may be he will yield to you--Loki! What's that? The hangings--"

Hampered though he was by the priest's gown, Olvir sprang across the room with the quickness of a leaping wolf. The tapestry, torn from its fastenings by his fierce grasp, fell apart and exposed the withered form of Kosru the leech, crouched against the wall.

"So--it is the werwolf's dotard," said Olvir, and his lip curled with a smile of utter contempt. But the spy was already grovelling on his face, terrified by the dagger and the terrible look of the Northman as he tore apart the tapestry.

"Lord--lord!--spare the aged!" he babbled. "God of Light, soften his heart! Spare me, noble count! I will tell all. I will pay you wergild for my life,--shining gold,--all the scant hoard I 've saved and put away for my helpless age!"

Olvir touched the Magian's head with his buskin, and answered coldly: "Odin bear witness--the hoarder's heart is touched! He 'd give away his gold."

"All--all, to the last penny--only spare my life! I will serve you; I 'll be your slave! Do not thrust into the grave one who already totters on the brink!"

"The greyer the viper, the deadlier its venom," rejoined the Northman, in an ominous tone. "That man is dog-wise who passes by the evil worm because it lies in his path torpid."

"Olvir--Olvir, do not slay the old man!" cried Rothada, and she darted across the chamber, to cling to her lover's arm. "He has been good to me, and--and he has saved many lives."

"_Ai!_ the king's daughter pleads for me; the maiden pleads! I have never sought to do her hurt--by the God of my fathers, I swear it, noble count! Even now I was but coming to fetch the queen's sampler. How could I know you from a priest, lord? If I hid behind the hangings, thinking to creep near and listen, I meant no evil. Only forgive me, and I will serve you; I 'll make confession how, with the witch in the Moselle Wood, I brewed love potions for her daughter to give the Lord Karolah, and how I bound the queen in slumber with my drugs, that the dark maiden might be free to lure the king with her enticements. Spare me, lord, and I 'll even tell--"

"Go to the priests with your witchery and spells," broke in Olvir, with impatient contempt. "As to your lying pledges, I ask nothing of a miserly dotard; nor will I take your oath for silence. This knife is better pledge. Do not forget its keen point, and learn that every man among my blood-eager warriors bears such another blade. If you betray me, by word or by sign, they will search you out, though it be from under the very seat of the throne. I have spoken. Now rise up and guide me back by the way I came, to the door of the slaves."

"_Ai!_ the shadow of Azrael is upon me! The wrathful youth seeks to lure me from the presence of the king's daughter, to shed my blood in secret!"

"Grey fool! That is a lie born of your own treachery. The knife is the maiden's; I give it back into her own hand. Rise up; I would be going. Farewell, little may! It is ill luck that our parting must be said before such a one; yet I trust to the blue steel that he blots all from his memory. Come now, darling, draw near my heart."

"God forbid it be for the last time!" sobbed the girl, overcome by the thought. The knife fell unheeded from her hand upon the wolfskin beside her as she sank, half fainting, into Olvir's arms. Many moments passed while she lay on his breast, quivering with grief. Then Olvir kissed her forehead, and put her gently from him, to spurn the shoulder of the leech.

"Up, dog!" he muttered harshly. "Lead me out."

Kosru shrank back, and huddled in a shapeless heap against the wall.

"I cannot--I cannot go!" he gasped. "A palsy has stricken my limbs. I cannot rise--I swear to you, lord count--"

"Liar! Stand up or I--"

"Stay; do not force him, Olvir. I will guide you myself."

"To the king, then."

"My father!"

"Do you dream that this coward could withhold his secret from the werwolf? He fears my vengeance; he will fear hers more. We will go to the king, and make an end, either for good or for ill."

"It is well, dear hero. Come; my father is in the cell of Deacon Alcuin."