For The White Christ Part 72

"Lord Christ--and to think! Ah, my world-hero, father of my betrothed!

Far better the outlaw's lot! And in my anger I would have left you--beguiled by the plotters!"

"Olvir--Olvir! my hero,--my gerfalcon! Do not shrink from me--do not go--stay with me, Olvir! All the night I sat watching your ships sail away into the cold North. I cannot bear it! Men say the Norse maidens are fair-- My heart! another will lie in your arms. Stay--stay with me, bright hero! See; I beg--I, the queen, on my knees to you. My G.o.d--he goes! Turn again, Olvir, only turn. You shall have that also,--I pledge it on your knife,--the girl also,--everything! only turn!"

But Olvir neither paused nor turned about to the frantic woman. His eyes, clear and luminous with inward light, were upraised as though he looked into the blue sky, and his lips smiled as they murmured the hard sayings of the Carpenter's Son: "'Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely.... Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you.'"

"He is mad--mad! I have stung him to madness!" cried the kneeling woman; and she struggled up to peer out through the hangings after the Northman. But when she saw him returning directly to the door of the king's chamber, she clutched at her bosom, and glided swiftly out after him. A blow between the helmet-rim and the gold collar of the hauberk--

But already the outlaw was at the other door. The doorward had not returned. He parted the curtains, and stepped within, unchallenged, even as the stealthy follower was upon him. The chance was lost.

With a soft rustle of silken robes the queen darted past the Northman, to fling herself into the king's arms.

"He is mad, dear lord,--mad!" she cried. "He entered my bower, and I alone! None but one crazed--"

"Peace, dame. It is you have lost your wit; I have come into wisdom,"

replied Olvir. "Peace to you and to your lord. I turn back, that, before I go, I may take oath to my tidings of how Hardrat and his fellows plot with Duke Ta.s.silo and Adelchis the Lombard against the life and throne of the son of Pepin."

"So, outlaw," cried Karl, "you hold to that lie! Murderer and traitor--and now--"

"Peace, world-hero; do not speak the word you will ever rue," said Olvir, so quietly that, as the king answered, his voice sank to a mutter.

"My Grey Wolf fell on the Saale bank, pierced by the arrows of the Sorbs."

"Bid men go look upon the count's riven hauberk and the wounds which split his hard skull," rejoined Olvir. "Even Sorbs would not notch their swords on bone and iron, when the foe lay arrow-pierced. Yet more,--no crooked blade cuts like the sweeping longsword. My mail was proof; but the weals still show where the blows struck across my back. As to the slaying of the leech, does the king name me a witling, that I should strike, and leave the knife to tell the tale? Let your daughter bear witness. I gave the blade back into her hand when I turned from the cowering dotard to come before you. It must be she let it fall as I caught her to me. Another came, and found it lying ready for the foul deed--"

"Gerold!"

"No, lord king. What could the brother of Hildegarde gain by the slaying? No; it was another,--whom I could name. But I do not come for vengeance, dear lord; I come only to open your eyes to the truth, that the Thuringians may not take you unawares. Well was it you journeyed so swiftly out of Saxon Land. I call to mind the words of that red boar Hardrat: 'Never shall Karl cross again over Rhine Stream.'"

The king flung out his hand.

"G.o.d forgive me, Olvir!" he muttered. "The scroll which maddened me--"

"In seeking my death, lord king, they have sealed their own doom. I could not name them, so they have themselves sent their names to the lord whom they would have betrayed. It is G.o.d's will. My counsel to the King of the Franks: In the name of Christ, there has been much to rouse hatred and enmity against your rule,--harshness and cruelty. You have listened to the ill counsel of this misguided daughter of G.o.d.

Therefore I say to you, bear in mind your own deeds, and be merciful to the wrongdoers. Now I go. The outlaw will not again trouble the son of Pepin. G.o.d be with you!"

"Stay, Olvir! You shall not go!" cried Karl, and, freeing himself from Fastrada, he came with a rush to seize the Northman's shoulders in his iron grasp. "Now I hold you fast, kinsman. You shall not go from me.

No longer are you outlaw. You shall wed your betrothed, and stay in my hall, Count Palatine, in the stead of Worad of Metz. He whom the king has wrongfully doomed to shame shall sit on the king's judgment-seat."

"My lord! my lord!"--the queen's voice rose to a scream--"what would you do? My father! Kosru! See the b.l.o.o.d.y knife. You 'd take the murderer's word against a score--"

"Silence, woman! I have given heed long enough to your ill counsel; long enough have I, the king, turned a harsh face against my loyal liegemen, at the bidding of a woman. My folly has borne bitter fruit,--heart-burnings and strife. Go, hide your shame in the bower.

Prepare yourself to live at peace with my high judge, else I--"

"Lord king!" protested Olvir, "is this time for harsh words? Listen, dear lord! Wisdom has come to me. I see how my own anger has brought my own sorrow. When, on the Garonne bank, I broke troth with the daughter of Rudulf, the outcome might have been far different had I curbed my tongue from scorn. If the maiden was at fault, my fault was the greater."

"O G.o.d!" moaned Fastrada, and she flung herself on the marble pavement.

But Karl did not look about from the serene face of the Northman.

"The Count Palatine has spoken," he said, gravely smiling.

"Would that it might so be!" answered Olvir, and his dark eyes grew dim.

"How then?" demanded Karl. But even as the words left his lips, the door-hangings parted, and Rothada darted across the room, blind to all else than her lover.

"Fly, hero!" she cried. "The courtyard swarms with the warriors; they come to take you! Fly! In the pa.s.sage wait those who 'll lead you to freedom. Ah, Holy Mother!--too late!"

The pa.s.sage without resounded with the tread and din of armed men jostling together in their haste. All eyes were fixed on the doorway as Gerold and Liutrad sprang into view. The Swabian paused at once, and stood hesitating, his face white and drawn with despair. But Liutrad strode across the room, tucking up his robe as he went. On the wall hung his great axe. He plucked it down, and turned about, with flaming eyes, as Count Worad rushed into the king's chamber, in the lead of a score of warriors.

But then the king's voice rang out, clear and joyful: "Stay your hand, viking-priest! And you, Count of Metz, take away your men. There's now no need of them."

"Father!" cried Rothada. "You smile! He is no longer outlaw!"

Karl drew her to him, and stood stroking her soft tresses, while the wondering warriors filed out of the king's chamber. When Worad, crestfallen and bewildered, had followed his men, Karl bent over his daughter.

"Do you, then, love him so much?" he murmured.

"More than life! G.o.d be praised, you 've listened to him!"

"I shall not soon forget how near I came to losing my Dane hawk,--and he flown hither to warn me of deadly peril! Let the traitors give thanks to Heaven for unmerited mercy. They will have a mild judge."

Olvir shook his head. "My heart leaps with joy that I have won again the friendship of the world-hero. Yet I ask two things only,--let my lord king give me my betrothed to wife, and bid me G.o.d-speed on my homeward faring."

"The maiden is yours, kinsman. But we cannot part either with her or you."

"Dear lord, I speak with clear vision. The heretic cannot sit in peace among those who bend to the Bishop of Rome; and more, it is best that we should go, both for ourselves and for the queen. I am weary of strife.

My heart longs for the iron cliffs of my home land, for the salt billows roaring among the skerries, for the still waters of the fiord. The viking stifles in this sea-less land."

"Can nothing stay you, Olvir? Think what you ask! You tear at my very heart-strings. How can I send my child into the frozen North?"

"Not all is rime and frost with us, lord king. The summer is fair in our North land, and the Trondir are warm of heart. In time, I shall sit on the high-seat of my father. The king's daughter shall not lack either in honor or in love."

"I will gladly give you whatever else you ask, Olvir. But to part with my child--"

Gently Olvir put Rothada from him, and half turned. He spoke with the calm of utter despair: "It would seem the Norns have woven ill for me.

I go into the North, and--I go without my bride."

"Ah, no!" gasped Fastrada. Struggling to her feet, she tore from about her throat the necklace of sapphires which the Northman had given her for wedding gift, and pressed it upon Rothada. "Take it, king's daughter; take it--even that!--only, bid him stay!"

Rothada thrust the blue stones from her, and drew herself up with a haughtiness which the king, her father, had never equalled. There was no grief in her white face as she made answer: "Am I such a one as you that I should bid my hero bend his will? He goes--"

"And you go with him!" The words burst from Karl's lips like a cry of anguish.

For a moment, Olvir stood as though dazed; then Rothada was locked fast in his arms. "My bride! Joy is ours, king's daughter!"

To them sprang their friends, with glad words,--Liutrad, Gerold, even the calm scholar Alcuin. In the midst, Olvir thrust them aside with friendly force, and Rothada and he stood forward, radiant, to return thanks to the great king.