CHAPTER V

What are ye, then, of armed men, Mailed folk who the foaming keel Have urged thus over the ocean ways, Over water-ridges the ringed prow? BEOWULF.

Most women at such a time would have cowered behind the empty throne; Fastrada sought to pass out with the war-counts. She was caught, however, in the press which closed behind them, and even with Abbot Fulrad's aid could not gain the entrance for some time. When at last the sturdy old Keeper of the Seal drew her into the open, the horns had ceased braying, and a strange hush lay upon the camp. But the river-banks were lined with armed men, and Fastrada saw hundreds of other warriors running to join them.

"What can it mean?" she exclaimed. "Have the Aquitanians revolted? Look how every man stares down the river."

"Let us go yonder to the knoll where the king stands. There the view is clear," suggested Fulrad.

"I see masts already,--five of them," exclaimed Fastrada, as they hurried forward. "Each bears a white shield at its peak. It cannot be they are Greek ships. They must be Frisian traders, or an embassy from Alfwold, King of Northumbria."

"Neither one nor the other, maiden," rejoined Fulrad. "Years since, in the days of Pepin, I saw the like,--once upon the Seine, and again upon the Rhine, in the Frisian Mark. It was there Karl fought his first battle,--a lad of twelve."

"But these ships--of what land are they? See how stately they surge up the river with their glittering prows; and hark to the oar-song of their crews,--a lay of the old gods! I 've heard it in the forest when no priest was near."

"Ay, maiden; these are heathen craft, and they bear warriors more terrible than the Saxon wolves. You've heard of Lord Otkar. These are his countrymen."

"Danes?"

"Truly; from Sigfrid's realm, or from Jutland, which is beyond. Otkar was of a land yet more distant. He told me much of the Norse folk; of their great wealth and fierce war-spirit. God grant that Wittikind the Westphalian lies quiet in Nordmannia and does not march back with the host of his wife's brother. The Saxons and Frisians are hard enough nuts to crack, without the Danes."

"But how come these heathen on the Garonne?"

"We shall soon learn," answered the abbot, pointing with his staff. "Here is the first ship abreast. Mark the mail-clad crew."

"The ship turns," observed Fastrada.

"And the others follow. They will moor before the king."

Even as Fulrad spoke, the oars of the longships rattled inboard, and the five beautiful craft glided toward the bank. They might have been dragons wheeling in salute to the royal standard. Spellbound by the sight, warriors and courtiers and king alike stood silently waiting while the stately prows swept inshore. First the leader and then, in quick succession, the four others ran aground, and the hush was broken by the thud of grapnels cast upon the bank. As the sterns of the vessels swung downstream with the current, a gangplank was thrust ashore from the prow of the leader.

The first to leap down the plank was a gallant young warrior in Frankish armor, at sight of whom the king cried out in astonishment: "Gerold!--with these Danes!"

"The Northmen come in peace, sire," observed Abbot Fulrad. "If not, how is it the queen's brother bears them company?"

"Peaceful or not, lord abbot," rejoined Hardrat, "these are insolent pagans to sing forbidden lays in the midst of a Christian host. Shall I not take horse, sire, and bring down the galleys from Casseneuil? Look, your Majesty! Count Roland follows Gerold; and he totters from recent wounds!"

But Karl made no answer. He was staring intently at the lithe warrior in shimmering mail who had leaped up to help Roland across the gangway.

"Ho, Fulrad," he called; "look close at the Dane count's war-gear, and call to mind that old Norse bear Otkar. His mail was the same in every point as this bright falcon's. Can they be kinsmen?"

"Old oak and young ash,--they 're little more alike, sire. But the lad will shortly tell us," remarked Fulrad, as Gerold hastened forward.

The queen's brother mounted the knoll, and knelt to kiss the extended hand of the king.

"Greeting, lad! You return in strange fellowship," remarked Karl, his gaze fixed upon the bright Northman, who was supporting Roland up the bank.

"They are shipmates whom I know your Majesty will gladly welcome," replied Gerold, with fervor. "Never have I seen such warriors! I fell in with them at Bordeaux."

"Bordeaux?"

"I journeyed to the Vascon burg from Fronsac, thinking that my lord would wish to know more of the new walls which Duke Lupus is building."

"Well done! But these Danes?"

"I can thank their count for a quick journey! He comes to you on a strange mission-- But let Roland speak, sire. He owes the Northman freedom and life."

"More, sire!--more!" cried Roland, as he sprang forward from the supporting arm of his companion.

The king met him halfway, and drew him up as he sought to kneel.

"You 're wounded, kinsman!" he exclaimed. "You have fought at sea! Where are your followers--and the child?"

"I have lost my henchmen, sire; but all else is well--thanks to Lord Olvir, my noble sword-brother."

"This Dane?"

"Ay, sire; leader of half a thousand sea-wolves,--the pick of the North. He has saved me from torture and the princess from shame."

"By my father's soul, he has earned the good-will of one who can repay! Stand forward, my bright Dane, that Karl the King may give you thanks."

At such a bidding from the lord of half Europe, most men would have run to kneel at the king's feet. Such, however, was not the manner of vikings, and Olvir Thorbiornson was not only a leader of vikings, but, throughout the heathen North, could have laid claim without dispute to a descent direct from Odin. Instead of hastening forward, with glowing face and ready bows, he advanced proudly erect, as one sea-king would meet another.

Karl and his lords gazed at the young heathen in wondering admiration, no less impressed by the grace and pride of his bearing than by his rich dress and the beauty of his sword and war-gear. Beside his lithe figure and dark, masterful face even Gerold of Bussen appeared rough and uncouth.

Olvir neither bowed nor knelt, but raised his shield overhead in salute, and returned Karl's gaze with the unflinching look of an equal. It was a novel meeting for the warrior-king, before whom even the wild Saxons trembled. He frowned and said shortly: "It would seem that the Danes are stiff of knee."

"Then set us in your battle-front, lord king," replied Olvir.

"Well answered!" cried Abbot Fulrad.

"You wish to join my standard, young Dane, and seek the post of danger?" said Karl, now smiling.

"Where else should a king's son stand? For this war the foster-son of Otkar Jotuntop seeks place with his sea-wolves in the fore of your host."

"Otkar the Dane!--you his fosterling?"

"And blood kinsman."

"Where, then, is the hero?"

"His ashes lie in the mound where he reared me."

"Dead?--that giant warrior! But he sent you to make peace with the foe whom without cause he sought so mightily to harm."

"No, by Thor," rejoined Olvir, his black eyes glittering. "To the end Otkar thought only of vengeance. He gave over the task into my hand. I sailed out of the North to harry your coasts with fire and steel."

"Saint Michael! you dare tell me that!" cried Karl, and his grey eyes flamed with anger at the Northman's audacity.

"My tale is not all told," said Olvir, unmoved.

"I have heard enough! You have slain Count Roland's henchmen, stolen my wares, and now you come to mock--"

"No, sire! no!" cried Roland, and he sprang before the Northman, who was turning haughtily away, his dark face no less angry than the king's. "Hold, brother! One word, sire! It was not he who slew my followers; he saved us from the clutches of Wittikind's man, a terrible Dane count, whom he slew in single combat. While I lay witless from my wounds, he granted the prayer of the little princess that we be brought to you; he won over the warriors of the Dane count to join his banner; yet more, he plighted brotherhood with me, after the old custom."

"As to your wares, Frank king," broke in Olvir, hotly, "bale and cask lie in my longships, untouched. Now I cast them ashore, and weigh anchor."

"No, by my sword; that you shall not!" cried Karl, and in a stride he was beside the young Northman. "Hold, kin of Otkar. I have done wrong; I will repay."

"Hold, brother, for my sake!" urged Roland, his arm about Olvir's shoulder.

The sea-king half turned, his nostrils quivering with passion, and stared fiercely about from the astonished Frank lords to their king. But before the look on Karl's grand face his anger broke and subsided as quickly as it had flared out.

"Have your will, lord king," he muttered. "I will listen, though that is not our custom in the North after words such as have been spoken here."

"Then I eat those words, my bold Dane. Wait; that is not enough! My hot anger has done you wrong. I will pay in full. Yet first, tell me why you sought vengeance against me,--you and Otkar. Why did your foster-father stir up strife between me and my brother Carolman? Why did he spur Desiderius, the weak Lombard, to war?"

Olvir's breast heaved, and his nostrils quivered; but he answered steadily: "It was thus, lord king: in your youth you laid an ambush near the Rhine mouth for a band of vikings."

"It was my first battle. The Danes had a famous hero for leader."

"He was my father."

"So--now I understand," muttered Karl, and his brows met in deep thought. "You have been generous, young count. Name what blood-fine you would have. I will pay it over without dispute."

"I do not come for wergild, lord king. While I thought you my father's slayer, nothing but blood could have paid for the wrong. And the debt is paid in blood; for before I slew that vile Dane, I learned from his own lips that he, who had betrayed my father, also was his bane,--that you sought to save the stricken hero."

"He thrust me aside; I was yet a child. I wish now that I had hung the blood-eager boar."

"Not so, king; else I might never have learned that I had no cause to hate you. I owe thanks to the braggart. But for his boasts, I doubt if I should have yielded to the little maid's entreaty."

"It was a Christian deed!" exclaimed Karl.

Olvir smiled: "Say rather, a Christly deed. I have read the runes of the White Christ; but, also, I have heard what Otkar had to say of your Christian priests and their flocks. By Thor! beneath the fleece, if Otkar spoke truth, they differ little from those whom you call heathen wolves."

"True--true! though the charge is bitter from the lips of a pagan. Yet Holy Church is the only fold, however much defiled by evil men. Already I have set about the cleansing of the sacred cloisters. Before I have ended that task, I hope that you and all your followers will have come within the pale."

"But now, lord king, all my men are sons of Thor and Odin; and I, like Otkar, trust neither in the old gods nor the new,--only in my own might. Can you welcome us so? I have heard how you force baptism upon the Saxons."

"As a nation of savage pagans, they menace my kingdom. I must bend them to Holy Church, or in time to come they will sweep across the Rhine and lay desolate the work I seek to upbuild. It is otherwise with your following, my Dane hawk. You are free to choose or reject Christ, as you are free to come and go. It is my trust that you will see the Truth and stay with me always."

"For this war, at least, we shall fight beneath your standard. Your foe will not easily break the shieldburg of my sea-wolves."

"That I can well believe if they are worthy of their leader."

"You shall view them now, lord king!" exclaimed Olvir, and, wheeling about, he sent a clear command ringing down the bank.

Hardly was the word uttered when from all five longships the armed crews poured overboard and swarmed up the shore like a storming party. So fierce, indeed, was their rush that many of the Frankish warriors mistook it for a real attack. When three or four counts, with Hardrat at their head, raised the cry of treachery, a thousand loyal men ran, shouting, to throw themselves between their king and the heathen.

But Karl sprang before his warriors, with angry commands to halt, and the movement was checked as suddenly as it had started. Yet, prompt as was the king's action, there was one sword which swung before he could utter his first command.

The moment Hardrat saw the Franks come running, he ceased his shouts and wheeled upon Olvir, with upraised sword, thinking to cut him down unawares. He might easier have surprised a hungry leopard. Before the blow could fall, the Northman had thrust Roland out of danger and leaped in under the descending blade. His arms closed about the burly Thuringian like steel bands. There was no time given Hardrat to break loose or to strike. He was flung up bodily and cast headlong over Olvir's shoulder.

The Thuringian's astonishment was exceeded only by his rage. Half stunned, he sat up, staring wide-eyed, and groped for his sword-hilt. But Olvir caught up the weapon, and, snapping the broad blade on his knee, tossed the fragments back to their owner with careless scorn.

"Ho! the red pig has a tumble!" roared Liutrad, at the head of the vikings, and the grim warriors burst into jeering laughter.

"Saint Michael! who jests at so ill a time?" demanded Karl; and he wheeled about, his face flushed, and his great figure quivering with anger.

Olvir answered him, smiling, "My sea-wolves, lord king. This fair-haired hero and I have played a merry game behind your back."

"A game for which Hardrat should hang, sire!" exclaimed Roland. "He sought to cut down Count Olvir unawares."

The angry flush on the king's face deepened, and he confronted Hardrat with a look before which the stout warrior visibly trembled.

"Well for you, Thuringian, your sword did no harm!" he cried. "Lightly as the young hero takes it, I am yet minded to ride you on the nearest tree."

"Forgive the deed, sire! I was over-hasty,--I thought the heathen were about to attack your Majesty," stammered Hardrat.

"We will allow the plea; the thought was loyal, however ill-advised. Your broken sword shall be the punishment for your rashness."

Had Karl been less keenly intent on the movements of the vikings, the affair might not have passed so lightly for the Thuringian. But as Olvir made no demand for redress, the king turned away, to watch with a kindling eye the manoeuvres of the Northmen.

At the first threat of attack, those members of the crews already ashore had lined up so as to present to the menacing Franks an unbroken wall of shields. Then their close ranks formed swiftly in a steel-faced wedge, with the towering figure of Floki the Crane at the point. Behind him stood Liutrad Erlingson with the sea-king's banner, while in the centre of the wedge the poorer armed Danes surrounded the Frisian sailors and Rothada. The discipline was perfect. Not even at the moment of wildest flurry, when the Franks were charging to the attack, had a single viking spear been cast or bow been drawn.

The king's powerful face glowed with pleasure and admiration at sight of such warriors.

"By my sword!" he swore, "this is a fair day for me! Never before has such a band been seen south of the Rhine."

"Or north of it, lord king," added Olvir. "All the champions among the Trondir sailed with me, and with them many other great warriors from Norway and Sweden; nor did Hroar number cowards in his crews."

"They may well be named the pick of the North. I should search all my kingdom to find their like. Would that their leader had pledged himself to me for a lifetime!"

The speaker's eyes glowed, and he laid a hand on Olvir's shoulder, as though eager to take full possession of such a liegeman. The Northman would have shrunk from the familiar touch, had he not perceived the earnest friendliness of the king's look. But his reply only half satisfied the great Frank.

"The Norns weave the future," he said. "When this war is ended I may yet wish to remain your man. But I cannot speak for my followers. They are free vikings."

"If you stay, they will stay. And now they shall not find me lacking in gifts. To begin, I name as yours all the wares which you saved from the Frisian ship. But did I not see women in the midst of your warriors? Where is the daughter of Himiltrude?"

Olvir turned and beckoned to his followers.

"The king awaits his daughter," he called. "Bring forward the little vala."

"She comes," answered Floki; and the wedge behind him split open to the centre.

When Rothada advanced to the front, with her broad-shouldered Frisian maid, Floki and Liutrad seated her on a shield between them and moved forward at a swinging stride.

"Farewell to our vala!" called out an old berserk, as he took the leader's post at the point of the wedge.

"Farewell! Come again to us soon, little maid!" shouted the vikings.

The girl waved her hand to the grim heathen, who in all things had honored her as they would have honored a daughter of their own kings. She could almost have wished to stay with them. But it was not to be. Even now the king, her father, awaited her,--that grand crowned warrior. Would he be kind to her, the daughter of the wife whom he had thrust aside so causelessly to wed the Lombard princess? Half hoping, half dismayed, the girl clasped her hands and gazed at her father with startled eyes.

Karl stared in wonder at the two viking leaders and the maiden they bore between them. Could this be Himiltrude's daughter,--a child of the cloisters,--this little heathen princess, clad in rarest furs and loaded down with glittering ornaments?

But the moment of doubt was brief. As the saluting vikings placed the girl before her father and drew back, she raised her head, which fear had caused her to droop, and looked up at him again with wide-open, appealing eyes.

"Himiltrude!" he cried, and he drew the trembling girl into his arms.

"All's well with the maiden," muttered Floki.

"All is well," repeated Olvir, and he waved the steersmen back to the wedge.