Feeder of foul deeds,
Fey do I deem thee.
LAY OF SIGURD.
Even as the Northman spun about at the cry of the little maiden, his
hands were loosening the horn at his belt. His glance rested but a
moment on the torrent of Saracen spearmen which was pouring out across
the green plain from behind the nearest hill.
"By Thor! three thousand and more, if a man!" he cried, and with the
words the horn was raised to his lips. As its warning note blared down
to the very donjons of the citadel, he bent out over the battlements,
and stared across the roofs of the Saracen quarter to the open space
about the Ebro Gate. Even as he looked, a shrill battle-cry rent the
air,--"_Allah acbar! Allah acbar!_"--and in a twinkling all the space
about the distant gateway was swarming with armed Saracens, the turbaned
warriors surging in a wild mob into the great arch of the gateway.
Olvir's nostrils dilated. "Thor!" he muttered. "The Crane will do well
to close the gate with those stinging gnats behind him."
"Oh, Olvir! are they fighting--all those fierce warriors?--and Floki has
so few! He will be slain! Hasten--"
"He must fare for himself, king's daughter. But never fear! The
horsemen have yet a bow-shot to race, and--_heya!_ look; there's proof
the gate is barred."
Great as was the distance, the dry, smokeless air was so clear that
Rothada could see with startling distinctness the battle-ebb of the
attacking mob as they fell back before the counter-charge of the vikings
in the archway. Suddenly the little band rushed into view, their weapons
flashing in fierce strokes. The deep viking battle-shout rolled out
above the shrill yells of the Moslems, and the giant warriors, forming
swiftly in a wedge, hurled themselves like a huge barbed spear-point
straight through the thick of the mob.
"_Haoi!_ there's fighting, king's daughter!" shouted Olvir, his eyes
aflame. But Rothada shrank back, and pressed her hands upon her eyes,
to shut out the cruel sight.
"What! So fearful of a little bloodshed?" he exclaimed. "But I forget.
You 're still a cloister-dove. Come down and hide with your pages. I
must look to the door when Floki comes knocking."
"Holy Mother! Why must there be so much of war and slaying?" wailed the
girl.
"Ask the priests of your White Christ," retorted Olvir, and taking her
hand, he led her quickly down the tower stair.
Having left the little princess in the care of her tiring-woman, he ran
from post to post of the citadel's defences, that he might see with his
own eyes whether every man was in his appointed position. Last of all,
he mounted the great arch above the entrance, whose oaken doors stood
ajar to welcome the retreating gate wardens.
At sight of his earl, a watchman who had climbed the main tower shouted
down to him: "Ho, ring-breaker! Floki's gate swings open. The Asiamen
ride into the burg."
"What of Floki?" demanded Olvir.
"I cannot see. But the other wardens gather in the great square. Ho!
there come the Crane and his men, a horde of swart curs yelping at their
heels. The bands join, and the Asiamen run to shelter. Now the Crane
turns this way."
"Good!" said Olvir. "They have little more than a bow-shot to come, and
the crooked lanes will check the horsemen."
It was none too soon, however, that the men of the gate watches swung up
the steep path after Floki and Liutrad, and poured through the archway
into the citadel court. As the ponderous doors swung to behind them,
the vanguard of the Saracen host came racing into view, hot on their
trail. But when they saw that their quarry had reached cover, the
swarthy riders contented themselves with a derisive yell, and wheeled
swiftly about to seek shelter from the arrows of the vikings.
Olvir hastened down into the court.
"Well done! well done, vikings!" he greeted the returned warriors. "You
had brisk play for a time, old Crane. What of the slain?"
"Go ask the Asiamen, earl," replied Floki, with a dry chuckle. "We have
none to name, though you can see enough of scratches among my men. The
black cats do not lack claws."
"I give thanks they are no sharper. Had your gate been opened when you
first left it--"
"The traitors did well to open it at all. I clenched the chain-hooks
with a sledge. For all their treachery, the curs gained nothing but
scathe."
"Yet we can count one man fated. Tell me, Liutrad; did not Ottar pass
out your gate upon my mare, to ride across the Arga?"
"He passed the gate, earl, but not to cross the river. I heard him say
that he was minded to ride around the burg to the Ebro Gate."
"Loki! my Zora,--my matchless mare!"
"Ho, earl!" called down a warrior on the wall; "here comes one waving a
green branch. Shall I loose an arrow at the swart hound? He is like
Earl Kasim as two peas."
"Hold!" commanded Olvir, and he ascended quickly to the parapet, Floki
and Liutrad at his heels. As they gained the top and leaned with him
over the battlements, they saw Kasim Ibn Yusuf, branch in hand, riding
up the steep ascent. Poisoner or not, there could be no doubt as to the
man's boldness.
"Thor smite me!" gasped Liutrad. "Zora!--he rides Zora!"
"It is a taunt," croaked Floki. "None but a fated man would venture
such a deed. Let me drive an arrow through his hide, and the mare is
yours again, ring-breaker."
Olvir was white with anger; but he shook his head.
"No," he lisped; "he bears a peace-branch,--he is a herald, and
peace-holy,--the foul poisoner!"
"May Hel's hand soon grip him!" growled Floki; and then all three stood
silent, glaring down on the approaching rider.
As he came within speaking distance, the Moslem peered up at the Norse
chiefs, and waved his green branch in mocking salute.
"Greeting, kinsman!" he called. "I have returned to my city with a few
friends, and so I am here to beg your hospitality for the night. Come
down, I pray you, and join us in the market-place. What! you are
silent? Is it thus you greet a guest? How speaks the Koran: 'For the
weary guest, food and a bed; for the stranger in your gates, a wife and
the queen of your drove.' Already you have made gift of the choice
mare. The groom who brought her you will find, arrow-pierced, beyond
the hill. He rode heedless into our very midst. I have besought you
for food and shelter; for wife, I might name that fair houri who rode
with Karolah's daughter--"
"Stay a little, dog," lisped Olvir, in a voice ominously gentle.
"First, tell me whether you come as envoy."
The vali raised his branch, and answered jeeringly: "I, Kasim Ibn Yusuf,
envoy of the Beni Al Abbas, come riding from Saragossa, to tell you how
I have outwitted the great Karolah and ridden over his camp."
"That is a lie, adder!"
"No; by the beard of the Prophet! In the dusk of evening we rode over
Karolah's tent and trampled his bright banner in the dust. Now will you
come forth with your braggart giants and meet my friends in the game of
swords?"
"I am content to lie at ease for the night," rejoined Olvir, quietly,
though his eyes were blazing.
"What! is my kinsman so backward when it comes to blows? I have heard
that he besought Karolah for the forefront in battle. Yet it may be he
is chilled by so long sitting behind the stone. I will try a last word
to stir his cold blood. When I rode over Karolah's camp, Vali Al Huseyn
opened to me the gates of Saragossa and shut them in the face of the
Afranj. But when Karolah named the city's ransom, he demanded that I
also should be delivered over to him. Urged to the treachery by my own
wife's father, the false vali assented. I was forewarned none too soon
to escape from Saragossa in the night. And yet, with all my haste, let
it be known to you, son of Gulnare, that I found time to force the gate
of the Balatt Al Arabi and bestow on your mother's father a scratch
which all the skill of Kosru my geber could not heal."
"Enough, poisoner!" lisped Olvir, almost in a whisper. "If you value
life, go--go quickly!"
Though the softly uttered words barely reached his ear, the Arab could
see the look on the Northman's white face. Without a word, he wheeled
Zora, and clattered down the slope at headlong speed.
"Ho, the murderous nithing!" jeered Liutrad. "He flees as from the
Fenris-wolf."
"None too fast to outstrip an arrow," growled Floki. "Give the word,
earl! My fingers itch to drive a dart into his swart back."
"No!" gasped Olvir; and he stood glaring after the fugitive, while the
cold sweat gathered and ran down his white face. "Hel seize the foul
murderer! He--he, my blood kin's slayer--has named me nithing!--and I
cannot leave this cursed rock heap!"
"Thor! Must we then lie idle for the sake of a Roman keep?"
"And for the vala's sake!" added Liutrad, quickly.
"I am not one to forget the maid," grumbled Floki. "But a hundred men
can hold the keep while we go out to the blood-game."
"No," broke in Olvir, harshly. "Far rather would I meet death than
swallow the taunts of that poisoner. Yet Karl the Frank gave over this
keep into my charge, and I hold the hard stones fast till Karl the Frank
comes again. Wait till he knocks at the burg gates. It will then be for
us to go out and open them to him."
A smile of terrible joy lit up the face of the sea-king, and he turned
eagerly to the southward, as though he already saw the vanguard of the
Frankish host.