Toward mid-afternoon there was a great stir in the Saracen quarters, and soon all the Moslem folk of the burg--mounted and afoot, or drawn in their heavy-laden ox-carts--began to move in a steady stream along the streets and out through the Arga Gate. Before nightfall the last cart had creaked over the Arga bridge, and was trailing away on the Astorga road.

Floki was like a baited bear.

"_Hei_! ring-breaker," he grumbled; "the dogs seek a new kennel. It must be they know the Franks are coming. Now is the time to strike the poisoner,--now, before he slips through our fingers. He will flee to-night on the trail of these slow-moving tradefolk."

"And what if it be a lure to draw us into the open? No, old Crane! If the swart dogs linger till the Franks come, we will make blood-play for them. Not now."

The last drop in the bitter cup was drained when at dawn the Saracen spearmen were seen leisurely riding westward on the Astorga road.

Astride their swift desert coursers, they well knew their safety from the pursuit of any kaffir force.

An hour or so after their rearguard had disappeared four thousand Frankish hors.e.m.e.n came plodding north upon the Ebro road, their heavy war-chargers so weary that they could not be spurred out of a walk.

"They have done their best," admitted Olvir, half reluctantly, and choosing the first hundred men in the courtyard, he marched out to meet the Franks. There was none to bar the way. The Saracens were all gone, taking with them the Jews, and the Navarrese townfolk wisely kept out of the path of the fierce Northerners.

But there was some delay in the Saracen quarter, where the vikings scattered to see whether any loot was to be found in the deserted houses. As it proved, nearly everywhere the owners had fled in such haste that all manner of rich plunder lay ready to the hand of the first comer.

In vain Olvir sought to recall the eager looters from their search.

Hardly a score appeared after repeated blasts of his horn; but, spurred on by his desire to hear the tidings of the Frankish host, he advanced with this scant following.

The delay had been considerable, and before Olvir could reach the great archway of the burg gate a horseman on a black Arab stallion came racing through the dark tunnel. In two leaps the splendid courser was beside him, and Count Roland was springing from the saddle, to grasp his shoulders.

"Brother!" the Frank almost shouted. "Brother!--you 're safe--the poisoner did not take you unawares! We rode night and day to overtake the traitors; but the horses of my men--Thank G.o.d, I find you safe!"

There was no resisting the heartfelt joy of the Frank. It swept away at a breath every trace of the grievance between the friends. Olvir gazed earnestly into the radiant eyes of his captor.

"No less am I glad to see you, brother," he said. But even at that moment his face clouded: "I thirst for your tidings, king's kin! No word have I heard since the host fared south,--only, the poisoner mocked me with evil tales. What of my mother's father? Is it true he met his fate--?"

"True, Olvir! The wretch struck him with a poisoned blade. We came with Al Huseyn to hunt out the traitor, but found only the dying count."

"And none stopped the murderer?"

"He was already gone, brother. It was at twilight. He and his following rode out of Saragossa before Al Huseyn could send word to the gates, and the swart hounds burst through our beleaguering lines in the darkness.

I could not leave your dying kinsman,--and it was well. He intrusted me with your inheritance,--this pouch of gem-stones, and a book in Arabic script, which he said contained the wisdom of Plato, the old Greek sage.

The book is on my saddle; the gems have not left my bosom since the n.o.ble count gave them into my charge."

Olvir took the heavy pouch, and, thrusting in his fist, drew out a handful of flashing gems,---rubies and emeralds and sapphires.

"Here's honor to the dead!" he exclaimed, as he held out the precious stones to Roland.

"In his honor!" replied the Frank, gravely, and he took the gift as freely as it was offered. But as the gems rolled into his palm, he picked out a great pearl, and handed it back to the giver.

"Keep this for the little princess, brother," he said.

"It is a gift for a bride, if it has mates," murmured Olvir.

"A fitting betrothal gift from a sea-king to a princess! Now that our bitterness is past, only one thing is lacking to round out my happiness.

Two more years or so, and your little may--"

"Say no more, brother. That pure snow-blossom,--and I, the b.l.o.o.d.y-fanged wolf! Not a day has gone by since I saw in her eyes-- But tell me! Is it true the poisoner rode over the king's camp?"

"I must own he told you truth. We were watching for treachery, and yet the wily fox caught us unawares. When our smaller host came faring from Barcelona, Count Barnard rode across the Ebro half a day in the lead, and the king was holding war-council with him, when, in the twilight, the pagan spearmen burst upon the royal guard. Only by good chance did I bring up the hors.e.m.e.n in time to save our lord king."

"Thor! You 've not lacked sword-play. But what of Abd-er-Rahman, that old Omyyad lion?"

"Ask the South Wind; it alone may tell you. He proved too wary a lion to show himself within hail of the Ebro; while, for our part, with treachery in our rear, we would have been mad to fare south into the enemy's country."

"Treachery?"

"When we marched down the Ebro valley to Saragossa, the false vali of the burg closed the gates against us, though the n.o.ble Al Arabi sought to hold him to his compact. So we laid siege to the burg until Count Barnard came with the eastern host, and the poisoner sought to slay the king. Before that, messengers had come, by way of Narbonne and Barnard's host, with word from Count Rudulf that the Saxons threatened an uprising. The king at once sent Gerold and Worad Rhineward at the head of a thousand hors.e.m.e.n. They took the longer but safer road by way of Narbonne; for the whole land swarmed with the bands of our treacherous allies."

"That I foreboded," said Olvir. "No messenger came through with tidings."

"Small wonder! Of all our Saracen allies, your n.o.ble kinsman Al Arabi alone kept troth. We had had enough to sicken us of the Southland without old Rudulf's warnings. Already our host was wasting from fever and famine, and so, as Abd-er-Rahman would not come to give us battle, there was naught to do but to take the wergild which Vali Al Huseyn had offered to ransom his burg. The host is already following my trail."

Olvir flung out a hand toward the south: "By Loki! a bitter warfaring has it been for more than one. I have drunk a cup of gall; no less the great king--"

"Gall would have been honey to him beside that bitter draught. But see; here come my laggard riders."

"Your riders! Halt them, brother; let them camp outside the walls.

They 've already had their share of war-loot, while my men have not fingered a penny. Ours should be the plunder of the Saracen houses."

"But the Christian townfolk--?"

"King Karl shall levy their wergild. We will not break a Christian door. I can trust my sea-wolves even in the looting."

"It is well, brother. The hors.e.m.e.n shall camp outside the burg. They shall guard the gates, but not enter," replied Roland, and, raising his horn, he blew a ringing call to halt.

So the weary weeks of war-vigil came to an end, and few other than the townfolk of Pampeluna grumbled at the half-week which lapsed before the main host of the Franks, with its huge over-burdened ox-train, came trailing out of the South.

Throughout the days of waiting the weary hors.e.m.e.n were well content to lie about their camps and feast on the good fare sent out by the luckless townfolk; while up in the citadel the vikings made exact allotment of their Moslem loot, and in the heat of the reckless gaming which followed forgot how they had been cooped up for months like nun-women, and cheated of the merry sword-play.

The days of idleness, of wa.s.sail and gaming, were soon cut short. On the morning that the main host reached Pampeluna, King Karl called the councillors of the city before him, and told them that their burg should no longer serve as an eyry for the treacherous Saracen hawks. He would exact no wergild,--no ransom; but the citadel and walls of the burg should be razed to the ground.

There was no appeal from the hard decree. Within an hour the city walls swarmed with thousands of Frankish warriors, armed with mattock and battering-ram. Soon the battlements were crashing down, to shatter one upon the other.

But the task was not one to be accomplished in a day, even by hordes of brawny Northerners. While the greater number toiled at battering down the walls and casting the loosened stones into the Arga, others scoured the country for miles around, levying tribute and hostages wherever they went.

Among the first of these forays was one led by Count Hardrat in the direction of Astorga. When he returned, he reported that no trace of the Moslems had been found. Yet, for such a fruitless faring, he seemed highly satisfied over its outcome, and he had no little to say apart with the beautiful daughter of the Grey Wolf.

The nearer the time set for the homeward faring approached, the more frequently was Hardrat to be seen with Fastrada; but as he was well known to be a suitor for the maiden's hand, his attention aroused no comment other than pleasant raillery.

When at last the plunder-burdened host trailed away from the dismantled city, up the valley of the Arga, Hardrat had no other choice than to join his command. But Kosru the Magian rode in closest attendance upon Fastrada, up the Zubiri, and across the wooded hills, into the glen of Roncesvalles.

That evening, as Fastrada rested with others of the court on the turf before the royal pavilion, Hardrat approached the king's seat and knelt haltingly to kiss his lord's knee. Karl smiled, and reached out his hand instead.

"What would our brave count ask?" he said.

"No great favor to grant, sire, yet one upon which I have set my heart,"