CHAPTER IX

Unto all bale And all hate whetted.

LAY OF BRYNHILD

In the centre of the skating-course the girl threw back her hood and gazed about at the circling skaters. Being now easily recognized, she at once became a focus of attraction for the younger Franks, who darted forward from all sides to offer themselves as partners. But the girl stood coyly in their midst, seemingly undecided whom to choose. She had spied the king sweeping out from the bank, and so contrived that when he wheeled past the cl.u.s.ter of eager suitors he caught her gaze fixed upon him in a look of tender longing. Instantly his eyes kindled, and, driving in among the young warriors, he bore off the prize from their midst.

With the girl's arm locked fast in his powerful clasp, Karl swept her along at whirlwind speed, his skates ringing loudly on the ice with the force of his strokes. His face glowed with the fierce delight of the captor, and the half-frightened, half-pleased look of his lovely captive sent the hot blood leaping through his veins.

Unresisting but una.s.sisting, Fastrada clung to his supporting arm while he bore her around the skating-course at a speed no other skater born in Frank Land might have hoped to equal. As he swept back through the thick of the shouting onlookers, he wheeled, seized by some fresh impulse, and drove away down the river, with no slackening in his headlong rush.

The Franks discreetly refrained from following their king; and Floki the Crane, who alone of those present could have overtaken the flying couple, headed back such of the younger Northmen as chose to consider the manner of the king's leaving a challenge to race.

So, followed neither by Frank nor viking, Karl drove on with his fair prize into the forest. As the gnarled trunks of the giant oaks shut out from view the last glimpse of field and dwelling, Fastrada's downcast eyes shone with sapphire tints, and though far from wearied by her mad race with Hardrat, she leaned more heavily upon the arm of the king.

A little later, the two were standing face to face in the centre of the river, a league beyond the viking camp. Karl was staring at the maiden with a bewildered look as he listened to her pleading words: "Ah, stay, my lord! You break my heart! I thought--I thought you 'd take me to wife."

Karl smiled, half incredulously.

"How then, silly maiden," he said; "have you forgotten who sits beside me on the throne?"

Fastrada's drooping eyelids quivered, and her face whitened; but she betrayed no sign of anger or jealousy.

"I 've not forgotten, dear lord," she whispered. "Yet I thought-- I 've heard of kingly rights. Is there--was there not a custom that the king might take to himself two wives?"

"By my sword, fair one, you 'd make a Merwing of me! Is it not enough that you have won my love?"

"No, sire, no! It is not enough for me!" cried the girl.

"Then what would you have?" asked Karl, wonderingly.

Before she answered, the girl raised her eyes to his, and flung out her arms.

"Ah, how I love you, dear lord!" she half whispered. "But you forgo your ancient right,--you 'll not seat two with you on your throne. I see only one way that joy may come to me,--ay, and why not? Why should not I have my turn?"

"How then?" demanded Karl. "Speak out."

"Ah, dear lord, do not be harsh! It is my love that forces my lips to speak, and so--and so--I will say it, though it kill me! Dear lord, if you will not make me joint sharer of your throne with the one who now sits beside you, I would--I would that she might give place to me,--as the Lombard's daughter gave way to her--as Himiltrude gave way to the princess--"

"Ha!" cried Karl. He drew back a step, and stood staring at her, overcome with amazement at her audacity.

For a moment the girl straightened before his angry wonder with a gesture almost of defiance. But then her eyes sank, and her whole body drooped forward.

"Pardon me, dear sire!" she pleaded faintly. "Forgive the love which carried me beyond reason. I could not stay my tongue, dear lord. I was mad!"

Softened by the girl's words and timid look, Karl relaxed his frown.

"Daughter of Rudulf," he said, "it is I who am at fault. You are far other than I thought,--I own it with shame! Here, then, is an end; for as to your foolish dream, that may never be. No woman lives who can thrust from my heart the daughter of Childebrand."

"Then all is over, dear lord; I may not hope?"

"All is over, maiden."

For a while the girl stood silent, one of her skate-runners tapping gently on the ice. But then, forcing as it were the words from her lips, she murmured hurriedly: "Your Majesty, is it not best I should be returning?"

"Not you alone, maiden! Whoever's afield should be seeking shelter.

Already the oak-tops moan with the coming storm. But fear nothing. We shall soon be warming our knees by the cheery hall-fire."

"But how, sire, of those who-- Ah, Holy Mother forgive me! I forgot; in my love and joy, I forgot! Kosru the leech-- Oh, hasten, sire! The lads and Rothada,--they are on the river, and with them our gracious dame!"

"Hildegarde!" roared Karl, in angry alarm.

"The queen," echoed Fastrada, and she shrank back in real fear of the king's threatening gesture. But he advanced, only to motion her up the river.

"To the villa!" he commanded. "Tell the Danes their vala is in peril!

Bid the counts join with them! I go to meet the skaters."

With the words, Karl wheeled past the cowering girl, and drove away down the river at headlong speed.

Instantly Fastrada sprang erect and glared after him.

"_Hai!_" she hissed. "Let him go; let him rush to share the fate of the others! The hungry fangs await him! Merry's the feast I 've set for Odin's dogs!--king's kin and king; ay, and my false hero! All's merry in the bleak wood! Hark to the moaning oaks! My mother's spell has roused the storm-fiends,--the sky darkens. Soon the gnawed bones will lie wrapped in a snowy shroud! And now I shall go to _her_. She shall unriddle that old foretelling,--'a king, grey of eye.' The Merwing Wolf rode the tree; Pepin's son rushes to meet his bane; who, then, may it be? Adelchis the Lombard, idling in the Kaiser's hall, or that drunken Hardrat? More likely he,--the white-bristled boar! I had thought to crush him when the time came; but now-- Ah, would that Pepin's son had lent a willing ear! He at least was a world-hero, with whom might be named no warrior other than my sea-king. And now they are death-doomed.

_Ai!_ my bright hero bleeds! Olvir! Oh, Olvir!"

Writhing in tearless anguish, the girl stumbled to the river's edge.

With feverish haste she tore loose the skate-thongs from her buskins, and, leaping up the bank, fled wildly into the heart of the forest.

CHAPTER X

Thou shalt hear the wolves howling.

LAY OF GUDRUN.

When the little party, whose leader he had considered himself, glided away into the forest, Olvir had thought to limit the trip to three leagues at the utmost. But he failed to consider the queen's humor.

After her long confinement within the bower, Hildegarde's fair face glowed with almost feverish delight as she felt the ice glide away beneath her feet, and she swayed her body to the skate-stroke with the grace of a Greek dancer. Upborne by Liutrad's powerful grasp, she soon lost all thought of fatigue and distance, and floated on--on--through the white sunlight, her face serene with dreamy contentment. Her enjoyment was at its height when Olvir, hand in hand with Rothada, glided up beside her, a troubled look in his dark eyes.

"Stay, Dame Hildegarde," he called out. "I beg you to turn back before it is too late. The storm-light is boding, and we 're already too far from hearth and roof-tree."

Hildegarde threw out her hand in a gesture of vexation very unlike her usual gentle bearing.

"Leave croaking to the ravens!" she cried. "How soon will your storm sweep upon us?"

"That I cannot say, dear dame. I know nothing of your Rhineland."