"You are right, maiden," muttered Hardrat, and he drew a deep breath.

Fastrada laughed low and softly,--a laugh at sound of which her fellow-plotter drew away from her, shuddering.

"What do we care for Lupus?" she said. "We shall yet win success; and--and him whom I hated I have slain!"

Hardrat crossed himself hastily.

"Saints shield us from werwolves!" he mumbled.

But Fastrada flung herself face down upon the earth.

CHAPTER XXVIII

Of fourteen winters was I, If thou listeth to wot, When I swore to the young lord Oaths of love.

HEL-RIDE OF BRYNHILD.

"Ho, there! Can this be Niflheim? Why is my voice so weak? I cannot lift my arm. If this is the under-world, I would look upon the blue and white face of Hel. Ho, there! Who hearkens to Olvir, son of Thorbiorn?"

"Peace, ring-breaker! You 're yet in Manheim," croaked a well-known voice. "When Olvir Elfkin goes hence, Odin, not Hel, shall claim his spirit. Now lie still, for a blood-fire has burned within your skull these twelve days gone."

"Faul! I 've dreamt dreams of ill omen. What tidings of the Wolf Duke?"

"He hangs in chains with his namesake. Before the Frank could strike, Asiamen and fell-folk had fled to safety with their b.l.o.o.d.y spoil. But Liutrad and I took the traitor earl even as he was flying from his burg.

Short shrift did the Frank give him. Eight nights he has ridden on the tree."

Olvir uttered a hollow laugh: "Then this night he should be wise as Odin."

"Thor!" cried Floki; "that is a welcome laugh. Now shall you surely live."

"I laugh with a sore heart. What of my brother?"

"They build him a hero's mound in the dewy valley."

"Would that I might see it!"

"That you shall, ring-breaker, when your strength comes again. Yours is the right to ward the hero's mound and to seek vengeance upon his slayers. For listen, son of Thorbiorn: When the king fared north, though you yet lay as a dying man, he named you Earl of the Vascon Mark.

From Toulouse to Bordeaux, from the Garonne to the Pyrenees, you are earl and hersir. The sons of Lupus are borne off to the king's hall.

Where the Wolf Duke ruled, you rule."

"Earl--of the Vascon Mark!" muttered Olvir. "Now, by Thor, if the men stay by me--"

"All stay but Liutrad."

"Liutrad! I 'd have thought him the last after you--"

"The king's will, earl. The Frank is minded to do well by the lad. For his good and the pleasure of the king, you will not forbid. The king looks only to your welfare. While we raced away to take thrall the Wolf Duke, the king put you in the care of Kosru, that outland warlock. The man's own head was in pledge against your death. Between his wizardry and the care of the little vala, Hel's hand was thrust back from you.

But now that you grasp firmly at life again, Liutrad should be faring away north, to return the old warlock to the king's household, and to bear back the little vala to the nun-women at Ch.e.l.les, whence she came."

"To the cloister,--to the pale nun-women! By Loki! that shall not be; she shall not become one of that crew--I--"

"Settle that with the maiden," rejoined Floki, and he slipped softly from the room.

"He has gone--he has left me alone!" exclaimed Olvir, and, in his great weakness, he could have wept. But then a little maiden came darting across the room and knelt to clasp his wasted hands.

"Rothada--little may!" he cried. "What's this I hear? You go to the cloister?"

"Back to Gisela and the blessed sisters, Lord Olvir. My heart aches with this terrible world-life. I cannot bear the hatred and cruelties of it all. I seek peace where my mother died."

"You shall not stay,--you shall not stay for all time! Bend lower, king's daughter--little vala with eyes like dewy violets!--lower yet, till your lips press upon mine. So; bravely done, sweetheart! Now lay your arm about my neck, and promise me--by your tress which I wore, by my ring on your hand--you will not take the cloister vows, but will wait--let the time be long or brief--you will wait my coming!"

Obediently Rothada clasped her arms about the young sea-king's neck, and with her face hidden close against his tangled red-gold hair she answered him softly: "I promise, Olvir."

BOOK TWO

Surely know I No love like your love Among all men On the mould abiding!

LAY OF GUDRUN.

CHAPTER I

He waxed under welkin in worth and honor till the folk around him, far and near, ... hearkened to him.

BEOWULF.

Four long years had come and gone, and at last the dreaded loss had fallen upon the common folk of Vascon Land. The rule of the young Dane count, who from the first had dispensed a justice throughout his mark as keen and as bright as his Saracen sword, had come to an end. The king had at last given way to the request of Olvir, whose followers had become unutterably wearied of the small pleasure to be gained in hunting out thieves and lawless lords; and that he might do honor to his loyal liegemen, Karl had sent as special _missi_ Abbot Fulrad and Count Gerold to take over the mark.

After the ceremony the _missi_ had journeyed on to Toulouse to place the rulership in the hands of Count William, for he was the guardian of Louis, the survivor of the royal twins born at Ca.s.seneuil, whom Karl, a year since, had caused the Pope to anoint as King of Aquitania.

When they came sailing back down the Garonne from Toulouse, the _missi_ found the five longships of the Norse fleet lying moored at Bordeaux, all newly refitted and sc.r.a.ped and painted, in readiness for the voyage north. So it chanced that the two Franks had clear proof of the nature of Olvir's rule; for the quays of the city swarmed with townfolk who had come to bewail the departure of their just count.

"Ah, Olvir," cried Abbot Fulrad, as they boarded the Raven, "our lord king did well to keep you here in the South all these years. I doubt if the _missi_ will bring such satisfying reports of William's rule."

"There will be some who will not grieve at my going," answered Olvir, meaningly. But the smile left his firm lips as he turned to gaze at the sorrowful crowds on the quays. Gerold, who came and stood beside the Northman, had lost little of his old-time boyishness; but Olvir's dark face was marked by the lines of rulership and shadowed by habitual thought. Floki could have told the curious guests that during the past two years his earl had spent no small part of his time in poring over the runes of the White Christ and the strange book of the Asiamen which Count Roland had brought to his foster-brother with the gem-pouch, out of Saragossa.

As the Raven at last cast off from the moorings and glided away down the Gironde in stately lead of the fleet, Olvir waved his hand to the weeping townfolk, and turned quietly to Abbot Fulrad.

"Liutrad has written fully of your bitter Saxon war," he said. "The heroes have met on the stricken field. Again you have beaten Wittikind back into the North, and men say that the war has been fought to a glorious end. Yet I have lain here in the South with sheathed sword, and--do not grieve."