"There is that within will sweeten the taste, hero," replied Gerold.

"Do not shame us with your frown."

"Lead in, then," said Olvir, and he smothered down the rage and grief which distorted his face. Before the three had pa.s.sed the threshold of the banquet-chamber, the Northman's look, though stern, no longer showed a trace of pa.s.sion.

CHAPTER XI

A fair may know I, Fair of all the fairest, Girt about with gold, Good for thy getting.

LAY OF REGIN.

The feast was already begun when the doorward came forward to show the belated guests to their places. They followed him, gazing about with keenest curiosity. The apartment was one of ordinary size, hung with tapestries of a fashion familiar even to the Northman,--purple and blue silks, embroidered in gold and brilliant colors with peac.o.c.ks and lions, griffins and unicorns. But, notwithstanding what they had heard from Fastrada in the queen's bower, all three, as they went forward, stared half bewildered at the sight of the guests on the pillowed couches.

The table, shaped like a horseshoe greatly elongated, gave room for thirty guests. It was a gay company,--stately dames and merry-faced bower-maidens, high court officials, war-counts, and pompous bishops, all alike gorgeous with silks and jewels.

The king himself reclined on a raised couch at the head of the board, with Duke Lupus at his right. On his left was the genial white-haired Abbot Fulrad; next to whom a high court-dame sat in a chair, severely erect, her eyes fixed watchfully upon the bower-maidens. Two places below the old dame Roland's eager gaze instantly singled out Fastrada.

One couch above and two below the maiden were vacant; and when the doorward waved Gerold and Roland to the latter, the Count of the Breton Mark flung himself down beside Fastrada, without a thought as to why the Vascon should have arranged such an opportunity for his most earnest rival. Gerold, little less hasty, took the second place and fell into gay chatter with the laughing bower-maiden on his left.

Olvir, however, was not to be diverted from his sombre mood either by love or by merriment. He advanced to his place above Fastrada with no sign of surprise at the high honor rendered him by its nearness to the head of the board. Heedless of the maiden, heedless even of the king, he flung back his cloak and stood with the light shimmering on his bared mail, his piercing gaze fixed upon Duke Lupus.

Almost instantly the laughter of the guests died away, and they stared at the Northman in wondering silence. But the king half rose on his couch.

"What does this mean, Dane?" he demanded. "Do guests in the North dine in full war-gear?"

"Not so, lord king; in the North there is no need."

"Saint Michael! what need here?"

"This is good answer," replied Olvir; and plucking the poisoned arrow from beneath his cloak, he darted it into the table directly before Duke Lupus. The Vascon's startled cry and deathly pallor, as he flung himself back, fully justified the test.

"The viper!" muttered Olvir. "Others than my kinsman shared in the murderous deed. Only for a blind were the high places at the feast kept for us."

The king had bent forward, and was reaching to draw the arrow from the wood. As he grasped the black shaft, Gerold cried warningly: "Beware, sire; the dart is venomed!"

Karl sat upright, the arrow raised before his eyes.

"I see," he said sternly, "this is no clean point; but it is blunted."

"On my mail," replied Olvir.

"Thank G.o.d the mail was proof! A foul deed! Name the wretches, Count Olvir. They shall meet death in the slime."

"That I may not do, lord king. Would such foul ones as they stand in the open?"

"This is no Frankish arrow."

"Nor Vascon!" stammered Lupus.

Olvir smiled darkly. "Lay it to some chance band of outland thieves, lord king. No others would be so base. And now, enough of treachery and bitterness! May all turn again to the merrymaking. I would not be a mar-joy."

Karl nodded gravely and rolled the poisoned arrow in his kerchief. Then he sank back again upon his couch, and gave command: "The count says well. Let the feast go on."

But Olvir stood waiting beside his place.

"What more?" demanded Karl.

"Does the host question my feast-dress?"

"I? No! What does my lord count mean?" exclaimed Lupus. "I welcome you gladly, in steel or in silk. Feast and be merry!"

"As you bid, lord duke," replied Olvir, smiling; but as he stretched out on the couch his eyes sparkled with another look than friendship.

"So; the wily snake! Not my cup alone shall taste of gall."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "White to the lips, the young sea-king turned to his enemy." (Page 44)]

The comforting thought was diverted by a soft whisper at his ear,--"Do not be deceived, lord count. The Merwing lies."

In the tense strain of his test with the arrow, Olvir had lost all consciousness of Fastrada's presence. Now, however, he turned about, and his gaze rested upon the maiden's exquisite figure. At the sight, all his bitter thoughts of treachery and revenge were forgotten. He had no time to recall his sword-brother to mind before the girl raised her head, and, smiling and blushing with undisguised pleasure, turned upon him a look that set his heart to throbbing with mad delight.

"So my lord count is at last pleased to greet me," she half whispered.

"I had first to greet the host, maiden," rejoined Olvir, with a flash of grim humor.

"_Ai!_ it was grandly done! But I shudder to think of your peril!" and the girl's bosom heaved with emotion.

Olvir gazed straight into her eyes, blue as sapphires and melting with love. Again his heart leaped wildly and sent the hot blood surging through his veins. All the Oriental in his nature was aroused. But it held control only for a moment. Over the graceful head of the maiden he caught sight of his foster-brother's face, clouded with doubt and bewilderment. One glance was enough to sober the viking. Not even youth and Eastern blood could withstand the Northern loyalty. Olvir tore his gaze from the spell of the sapphire eyes and stared out across the silver-laden table, his face stern almost to fierceness.

Fastrada, her blushes fast paling, watched him from beneath lowered lashes with a startled look. Roland also watched him, his blue eyes still troubled. Presently a change lit up the Northman's face. He turned about, with a frank smile for Roland, and met Fastrada's glance with a look of calm resolve.

"Drink with me, maiden," he said. "I pledge one who is the truest friend, the boldest hero in all Frank Land."

"I drink to that hero," replied Fastrada; and over the brim of her crystal goblet her eyes again beamed upon Olvir.

Great as was his self-control, the young man looked hastily away. But then his lip curled in scorn of his weakness, and he exclaimed, "We drink to my sword-brother. May he find favor in the eyes of the queen's fairest maiden!"

"The fair to the fair," rejoined Fastrada, with adroit play on the word.

"The fair count will win a flaxen bride. But among the dark maidens I know one who has made choice of a dark-faced hero."

At the open confession Olvir panted, and his eyes glistened with the love which he could no longer restrain. Yet he held firm to his purpose.

"The dark maiden is a foolish maiden," he answered. "She should choose the blue-eyed hero,--a warrior of kingly blood. His great heart overflows with love for the maiden,--he, the king's kin, who need but speak, and honors will be heaped upon him. But the dark warrior, who is he?--a heathen outlander; a stranger in the land; a wanderer!"

"No, Olvir!" interrupted Roland, hoa.r.s.ely; "you are no stranger, but my true brother. Listen, Fastrada! For no short day you have known that I loved you, and you have never frowned upon my wooing. Yet now I see that you turn to my brother. May the Holy Mother grant that you do not scorn his love the same! Give him the happiness which I thought should be mine."