For The White Christ Part 7

"Hold, brother, for my sake!" urged Roland, his arm about Olvir's shoulder.

The sea-king half turned, his nostrils quivering with pa.s.sion, and stared fiercely about from the astonished Frank lords to their king.

But before the look on Karl's grand face his anger broke and subsided as quickly as it had flared out.

"Have your will, lord king," he muttered. "I will listen, though that is not our custom in the North after words such as have been spoken here."

"Then I eat those words, my bold Dane. Wait; that is not enough! My hot anger has done you wrong. I will pay in full. Yet first, tell me why you sought vengeance against me,--you and Otkar. Why did your foster-father stir up strife between me and my brother Carolman? Why did he spur Desiderius, the weak Lombard, to war?"

Olvir's breast heaved, and his nostrils quivered; but he answered steadily: "It was thus, lord king: in your youth you laid an ambush near the Rhine mouth for a band of vikings."

"It was my first battle. The Danes had a famous hero for leader."

"He was my father."

"So--now I understand," muttered Karl, and his brows met in deep thought. "You have been generous, young count. Name what blood-fine you would have. I will pay it over without dispute."

"I do not come for wergild, lord king. While I thought you my father's slayer, nothing but blood could have paid for the wrong. And the debt is paid in blood; for before I slew that vile Dane, I learned from his own lips that he, who had betrayed my father, also was his bane,--that you sought to save the stricken hero."

"He thrust me aside; I was yet a child. I wish now that I had hung the blood-eager boar."

"Not so, king; else I might never have learned that I had no cause to hate you. I owe thanks to the braggart. But for his boasts, I doubt if I should have yielded to the little maid's entreaty."

"It was a Christian deed!" exclaimed Karl.

Olvir smiled: "Say rather, a Christly deed. I have read the runes of the White Christ; but, also, I have heard what Otkar had to say of your Christian priests and their flocks. By Thor! beneath the fleece, if Otkar spoke truth, they differ little from those whom you call heathen wolves."

"True--true! though the charge is bitter from the lips of a pagan. Yet Holy Church is the only fold, however much defiled by evil men. Already I have set about the cleansing of the sacred cloisters. Before I have ended that task, I hope that you and all your followers will have come within the pale."

"But now, lord king, all my men are sons of Thor and Odin; and I, like Otkar, trust neither in the old G.o.ds nor the new,--only in my own might.

Can you welcome us so? I have heard how you force baptism upon the Saxons."

"As a nation of savage pagans, they menace my kingdom. I must bend them to Holy Church, or in time to come they will sweep across the Rhine and lay desolate the work I seek to upbuild. It is otherwise with your following, my Dane hawk. You are free to choose or reject Christ, as you are free to come and go. It is my trust that you will see the Truth and stay with me always."

"For this war, at least, we shall fight beneath your standard. Your foe will not easily break the shieldburg of my sea-wolves."

"That I can well believe if they are worthy of their leader."

"You shall view them now, lord king!" exclaimed Olvir, and, wheeling about, he sent a clear command ringing down the bank.

Hardly was the word uttered when from all five longships the armed crews poured overboard and swarmed up the sh.o.r.e like a storming party. So fierce, indeed, was their rush that many of the Frankish warriors mistook it for a real attack. When three or four counts, with Hardrat at their head, raised the cry of treachery, a thousand loyal men ran, shouting, to throw themselves between their king and the heathen.

But Karl sprang before his warriors, with angry commands to halt, and the movement was checked as suddenly as it had started. Yet, prompt as was the king's action, there was one sword which swung before he could utter his first command.

The moment Hardrat saw the Franks come running, he ceased his shouts and wheeled upon Olvir, with upraised sword, thinking to cut him down unawares. He might easier have surprised a hungry leopard. Before the blow could fall, the Northman had thrust Roland out of danger and leaped in under the descending blade. His arms closed about the burly Thuringian like steel bands. There was no time given Hardrat to break loose or to strike. He was flung up bodily and cast headlong over Olvir's shoulder.

The Thuringian's astonishment was exceeded only by his rage. Half stunned, he sat up, staring wide-eyed, and groped for his sword-hilt.

But Olvir caught up the weapon, and, snapping the broad blade on his knee, tossed the fragments back to their owner with careless scorn.

"Ho! the red pig has a tumble!" roared Liutrad, at the head of the vikings, and the grim warriors burst into jeering laughter.

"Saint Michael! who jests at so ill a time?" demanded Karl; and he wheeled about, his face flushed, and his great figure quivering with anger.

Olvir answered him, smiling, "My sea-wolves, lord king. This fair-haired hero and I have played a merry game behind your back."

"A game for which Hardrat should hang, sire!" exclaimed Roland. "He sought to cut down Count Olvir unawares."

The angry flush on the king's face deepened, and he confronted Hardrat with a look before which the stout warrior visibly trembled.

"Well for you, Thuringian, your sword did no harm!" he cried. "Lightly as the young hero takes it, I am yet minded to ride you on the nearest tree."

"Forgive the deed, sire! I was over-hasty,--I thought the heathen were about to attack your Majesty," stammered Hardrat.

"We will allow the plea; the thought was loyal, however ill-advised.

Your broken sword shall be the punishment for your rashness."

Had Karl been less keenly intent on the movements of the vikings, the affair might not have pa.s.sed so lightly for the Thuringian. But as Olvir made no demand for redress, the king turned away, to watch with a kindling eye the manoeuvres of the Northmen.

At the first threat of attack, those members of the crews already ash.o.r.e had lined up so as to present to the menacing Franks an unbroken wall of shields. Then their close ranks formed swiftly in a steel-faced wedge, with the towering figure of Floki the Crane at the point. Behind him stood Liutrad Erlingson with the sea-king's banner, while in the centre of the wedge the poorer armed Danes surrounded the Frisian sailors and Rothada. The discipline was perfect. Not even at the moment of wildest flurry, when the Franks were charging to the attack, had a single viking spear been cast or bow been drawn.

The king's powerful face glowed with pleasure and admiration at sight of such warriors.

"By my sword!" he swore, "this is a fair day for me! Never before has such a band been seen south of the Rhine."

"Or north of it, lord king," added Olvir. "All the champions among the Trondir sailed with me, and with them many other great warriors from Norway and Sweden; nor did Hroar number cowards in his crews."

"They may well be named the pick of the North. I should search all my kingdom to find their like. Would that their leader had pledged himself to me for a lifetime!"

The speaker's eyes glowed, and he laid a hand on Olvir's shoulder, as though eager to take full possession of such a liegeman. The Northman would have shrunk from the familiar touch, had he not perceived the earnest friendliness of the king's look. But his reply only half satisfied the great Frank.

"The Norns weave the future," he said. "When this war is ended I may yet wish to remain your man. But I cannot speak for my followers. They are free vikings."

"If you stay, they will stay. And now they shall not find me lacking in gifts. To begin, I name as yours all the wares which you saved from the Frisian ship. But did I not see women in the midst of your warriors?

Where is the daughter of Himiltrude?"

Olvir turned and beckoned to his followers.

"The king awaits his daughter," he called. "Bring forward the little vala."

"She comes," answered Floki; and the wedge behind him split open to the centre.

When Rothada advanced to the front, with her broad-shouldered Frisian maid, Floki and Liutrad seated her on a shield between them and moved forward at a swinging stride.

"Farewell to our vala!" called out an old berserk, as he took the leader's post at the point of the wedge.

"Farewell! Come again to us soon, little maid!" shouted the vikings.

The girl waved her hand to the grim heathen, who in all things had honored her as they would have honored a daughter of their own kings.

She could almost have wished to stay with them. But it was not to be.

Even now the king, her father, awaited her,--that grand crowned warrior.