Look on thy loved one,
Lay lips to his lips.
LAY OF GUDRUN.
On the morning after the feast, the first to greet Roland as he stepped
from Olvir's tent was a stocky, bow-legged warrior, whose unkempt red
beard and travel-stained dress of coarse wool and leather spoke far more
strongly of the camp than of kings' halls. But Roland answered the
new-comer's hearty shout with a greeting no less cordial.
"Ho, Amalwin!" he cried; "I did not look to see your Saxon face this far
south. What of your fellows in the Sorb Mark,--Count Rudulf?"
"Worad and I came with our levies, the few that Rudulf would spare us.
The little birds twitter on the green boughs; but the crafty Grey Wolf
scents war in the spring breezes. He will not venture Rhineward from
his mark a step beyond Fulda."
"How is that, friend?" called Olvir, from the entrance of the tent.
"Will not Count Rudulf attend the Mayfields?"
The Saxon stared at the Norse earl in mingled surprise and admiration
until Roland repeated the question, "Then Rudulf will not come to the
assembly?"
"Not he! I half wish I were myself back over Rhine Stream, in the deep
forest. But who is this young hero?"
"Greet him as my sword-brother. He is a Northman from beyond the
Danes,--a fosterling of Otkar."
"Of Otkar!" shouted Amalwin; and he ran to grasp Olvir's hand. "The
Dane himself took me thrall at the fall of the Irminsul; yet he gave me
freedom, and won for me the good-will of Carloman."
Olvir nodded: "Be sure the hero spoke no ill to me of Amalwin the Saxon.
But Count Rudulf--I must speak with him."
"Then you must fare over Rhine Stream, hero," rejoined Amalwin.
"I know the Grey Wolf," added Roland, nodding in assent. "If he scents
forest-war, he will not stir out of his mark for all the Saracens in the
old Goth realm."
"It is well I have Zora, brother. I shall start without delay. The
time of your Folk-meet is not over-long."
"That is true, Northman," remarked Amalwin. "Two fortnights will see
the close of the Mayfields. Though you ride the fleetest of horses,
your return will find Karl the King across the Pyrenees, and the
Saracens already broken."
Olvir shook his head; but Roland broke in quickly: "Come, brother; let
us bear Amalwin company to our lord king. He should know at once of
your wish."
"I had forgotten. I am now only a henchman," said Olvir, and he
frowned.
For a little while, as they walked along the river's bank to the royal
pavilion, his anger kept him moody and silent. But then he began to
question Amalwin on the course and condition of the roads along the main
route to the Rhine.
Though Karl was deep in the affairs of his immense realm, he was none
too busy to turn immediately at sight of the Saxon.
"Ho, my forest-bear!--greeting to you! Where is Rudulf?"
"Lying in lair, lord king. He scents blood near by," answered Amalwin,
and he bent awkwardly to kiss the royal knee.
"How? Stand up, man. Are the Sorbs harrying?"
"Neither Sorb nor Saxon; yet the old wolf will not fare far from his
mark. His wife, the Wend woman, has been at her witchery. She
forebodes evil from the west. So he lies in his mark, sniffing the Saxon
breezes."
"Witchcraft--witchcraft!" muttered Karl, frowning. "We must again warn
Rudulf to keep his outland dame within our law. But as to the
boding,--the fiends may read the future! Rudulf has a grey head, and
you, my bright Dane, brought added warning. Rudulf shall have our
arrow-bode, to levy at will all the land-host of Thuringia and
Austrasia."
"Give me leave to bear the message, lord king," said Olvir.
"You, my Dane hawk? I counted on you to lead the host into Spain."
"My kinsman Al Arabi gave me an Arab mare. I will go and come before
the ending of the Mayfields."
"Then your mare must be winged! Why should you go?"
Olvir glanced at Roland, flushing darkly.
The Frank met the look with a grave smile, and answered for his
sword-brother: "It is a simple matter, sire. Olvir would ask Count
Rudulf for the hand of his daughter. The Thuringian will not come south;
so the suitor must go north."
"Still, is a long journey."
"I will return before you march, lord king," repeated Olvir.
Karl gazed steadily into the haughty face of the Northman. What he saw
there soon satisfied his doubts. He nodded, and said briefly: "Fulrad
will have the writings drawn up within an hour. Make ready--Stay! here
is my ring. It may speed your faring."
Olvir's eyes glistened as he took the royal signet.
"Thor!" he cried. "Here is a king whom a king's son may serve without
shame!"
"Then fly, king's son. We 'll be looking for your return."
Olvir saluted, and hastened out through the crowds of envious lords. He
was springing away from the pavilion, when Roland's voice brought him to
a stand: "Hold, brother! a word. I go first to the villa, to make ready
for your farewell."
"Brother--ay, brother!" muttered Olvir; and he stood hesitating,
overcome by the insistent generosity of the Frank. But time pressed.
He waved his hand to Roland and darted away again.
The hour had hardly passed when Olvir sprang down from Zora's back,
beside Gerold and Roland, at the main gateway of the villa. The older
count promptly took the bridle-rein, while Gerold turned and led Olvir
to the queen's apartments.
There was little change within the bower since Olvir's first visit. As
before, Hildegarde sat on the dais, with the children grouped about her
feet, and the row of busy maidens on her left. Only the king was
absent.
At Olvir's entrance, the maidens dropped their needlework, to glance at
him from beneath their lashes and exchange softly murmured comments on
his appearance. But Olvir's gaze was already fixed upon the graceful
form of Fastrada, among the children on the dais edge. Heedless of the
chattering maidens, he hastened forward, his ardor so keen that he could
hardly conceal his impatience when Rothada came running to meet him.
"You leave us, Lord Olvir!" she exclaimed.
"Ay, little maid; the time is short. Farewell," he answered, and, with
a hasty kiss on her forehead, he passed by. For a moment he knelt to
kiss the queen's hand, and then he was beside Fastrada, drinking in the
loveliness of her blushing face. The look in her eyes as she gazed at
his lithe figure and resplendent war-gear filled him with such an
intoxicating delight that for a little he failed to comprehend
Hildegarde's remark: "I know nothing of your Norse customs, Lord Olvir.
Here we are somewhat strict with unbetrothed maidens. You must say your
farewells in our presence."
Fastrada drooped her head to hide a look of resentment, and her dainty
foot tapped the floor ominously. Olvir, however, the moment he sensed
the queen's meaning, smiled up at her and answered gaily, "Why speak of
strictness, dear dame? True love has nothing to hide."
As he spoke, he took Fastrada's hands, and bent to kiss her, thrilling
with all the love and reverence of the Northern heart for a pure woman.
But as their lips met, the girl, unable to restrain the impulse of her
wild Wendish blood, threw herself upon his breast, and flung her arms
about his neck. He could feel the throbbing of her heart through his
mail.
"Farewell, my lord--my hero!" she whispered brokenly. "Hasten back
again. If you linger, I shall die!"
"Never has man gone that journey swifter than I shall go, dear one. If
you have need of service, ask for Liutrad Erlingson. All my sea-wolves
are at your command. Now, farewell, for a little time!"
Tearing himself from the girl's embrace, Olvir turned and walked quickly
away. Rothada and her brothers joined the queen in a chorus of
_God-speeds_; but Olvir waved his hand and leaped out through the
doorway, without a single glance even for Fastrada.
He found Roland with one hand on Zora's neck and the other caressing the
mare's bony cheek. The Frank turned at once at the sound of Olvir's
light step, and caught his outstretched hands. For a moment the two
gazed at each other with eyes aglow. Then Olvir leaped into the saddle
and called to the mare in Arabic. Wheeling at the word, she leaped
through the gateway and shot away down the road like an arrow.