For The White Christ Part 44

As the couple seated themselves on a bench in the rear of the main group of students, Alcuin selected one of the scrolls handed him by his pupils, and bowed to the king.

"Your Majesty, all is in readiness," he said.

At the word, Karl glanced about the hall. All present except Alcuin were now seated; but the king gazed up and down the benches until he caught sight of Olvir. Then he nodded and replied: "It is well; the lesson will now begin. Summon all your lore, my dear teacher. We have with us to-day a new-comer whose wits are keen as his sword."

"Such learning, sire, as I have gained from the Holy Fathers, I stand ready to impart. But who may say that he knows all of wisdom? Not even Solomon, son of David, could so claim."

"What is wisdom?" queried Karl.

"The fruit of knowledge,--the soul of learning."

"And learning?"

"The inscribed knowledge of the ancients."

"What says my bright Dane to that?"

Olvir started up at the question, and saluted the king.

"I am over-new in this game to take active part, sire," he said. "I do not even know its rules."

"Another time, then, lad. You will soon learn our ways. We will now follow the lessons set for the day. Worad was to question Alcuin on dialectics."

As the young Frank rose to confront the master, Olvir sat down again beside Fastrada, and fell to musing, heedless alike of the learned disputants and of his fair benchmate.

In the midst of his revery, he was roused by Fastrada, who, under cover of Alcuin's voice, leaned over and whispered softly: "Look, my hero friend. Here comes one whom I doubt if you can name. Though she has not yet taken the veil, Gisela has all but made a nun of her."

"How? Ah!"

Rothada had come in by the queen's entrance, and was already close at hand, gliding silently over the rushes. It was little wonder that Olvir, after the first quick start of recognition, sat staring at the king's daughter, with lips parted and black eyes glistening. He did not see the Rothada for whom he had looked. That gay, bright-eyed child-maid was gone, and in her stead was a maiden no less lissome than the little vala, but taller, and grave with habitual meditation. The slight pallor of her face, together with the spirituality of its look, gave to her features an ethereal--almost unearthly--beauty.

As she was about to pa.s.s by, unconscious of his presence, Olvir uttered a stifled cry. Rothada looked down, and met his eager gaze. At sight of him she halted, as though struck, and he could see her eyes widen and darken with doubt and vague dread. Her first impulse apparently was to hasten on; but she checked herself, and was about to speak, when she chanced to catch Fastrada's look of insolent triumph. At that a flush rose in her white cheeks, and without a word of greeting she pa.s.sed quickly by to her stool, on the dais beside Hildegarde.

For a moment Olvir sat staring in utter bewilderment. Then the hot blood leaped into his face, and he sprang to his feet. Heedless of the disputing scholars, of the Thuringian, with her short-lived triumph, of the king himself, he stalked down the hall, his head high, and his eyes flas.h.i.+ng.

CHAPTER VI

One I loved, One and none other, The gold-decked may.

LAY OF SIGURD.

For several days Olvir avoided the villa, pleading the need of overlooking the affairs of his men. At last, however, Karl himself, chancing to pa.s.s through the viking camp from a hunt down the Moselle, stopped to bid Olvir attend the ma.s.s in the royal chapel on Christmas Day. There could be no excuse for failing to obey the direct command of the king, and Olvir came to the service in his gayest dress. But with him for fellow he brought the grim Floki.

The gloomy chapel exhibited a sepulchral magnificence well in keeping with the ascetic spirit of priest and monk. The few and broken sun-rays which struggled in through the narrow windows glistened brightly on the screens and gates of polished bra.s.s and the jewelled images of kings and saints in the wall niches. The nave, crowded with courtly wors.h.i.+ppers, was further brightened by the glint of polished steel, the rich colors of precious fabrics, and a bewildering display of gold and gems.

Yet the magnificence of the nave was nothing to the splendor of the chancel. There, from giant silver candelabra, hundreds of tapers shed their radiance over the sumptuous decorations of the altar, the gold crucifix, the tapestries of white silk, emblazoned with griffins and peac.o.c.ks, the gold vessels of the officiating priests, and the white ca.s.socks of the Italian choir.

But notwithstanding the presence of king and court, the solemn harmony of the Gregorian chants, and the impressiveness of the ceremony as conducted by the venerable Fulrad, there were two onlookers present who stood throughout the ma.s.s unbending and irreverent.

"By the hair of Sif, ring-breaker," muttered Floki, in the midst, "here is enough of gold to stock a dozen G.o.di-houses."

"It is nothing to the h.o.a.rd in the temple of the G.o.di of Rome. That is all but sheathed with gold, wrung by Holy Church from the sweat and blood of slaves! But I will not give way to bitterness. This is a merry day to the Christian folk; we also will be light of heart. Look how the beams sparkle among the gem-stones. I choose those before your dull gold. See their bright hues,--blue and green and purple,--ay! and red as the life-blood of white biorn gus.h.i.+ng upon the snow."

"I have eyes, son of Thorbiorn. There is one flagon which alone is worth a king's wergild,--the jewelled cup that the G.o.di Fulrad holds aloft. By Thor! that is a wa.s.sail-bowl worth the having. Not Otkar himself could have drained it at a draught."

"True, old Crane; and it may hold even more than our eyes show us. Tell me,--you have now dwelt many seasons in Frank Land,--what is your thought of the White Christ?"

Floki scratched his long nose, and glanced shrewdly about the chapel before replying.

"You ask a hard riddle, earl," he muttered. "I should answer that He is Odin and Balder--and more--in One. Yet why should I bend knee to Him? I have seen how His runes have drawn the temper of your keen spirit and marred your old-time joy of battle. What greater loss could befall a viking? So I will yet drink to Thor, trusting in my own craft and the sweep of my halberd."

"I will not say you are wrong," replied Olvir. "At the least, one cannot do the will of the White Christ and take joy in sword-play; that I see clearly, though these Christian priests teach otherwise. Some day I must make my choice, either to ungirt Al-hatif from my side, or to burn my Christ-runes."

"Thor!" croaked Floki; "it is time for a little sword-play to stir your kingly blood. With the springtime, earl, there 'll be call for your heron beak."

"How? To peck the Saxon wolves?"

"They 'll be afoot in full pack, else I 've lost my scent for blood.

Nor is that the whole saga. I smell blood on another trail,--one which leads from the king's hall."

"Treason again! I had thought that with the subtle Lupus gone--"

"Gone--ay; but he left one behind him little less subtle. The Grey Wolf's daughter might teach cunning to Odin, and she does not lack of crafty mates. More than once I have seen her in the forest border, waiting for Earl Hardrat and that wizened warlock Kosru."

"I have heard of that from Liutrad. They go to practise witchcraft."

"Then I am dull at riddles, earl. It is treason the three brew in the woodland, not spell-herbs."

"A fearsome brewing," said Olvir, smiling, "an old man, a maiden, and a drunkard."

"The fox, the adder, and the full-tushed boar," rejoined Floki. "Craft cuts sharper than any sword. As to Liutrad's red pig, he has put away the wa.s.sail-bowl. I name the Thuringian no mean foe. He has the strength of a bull, and far more of wit than in the past, now that the beer seeps from his brain."

"Yet I see in all this nothing more than a love tryst, with witchery for a blind. Even granting that the red pig has grown tushes, we will have our boar-spears at hand when there is need. As to your fox and adder-- But see; the ma.s.s is at an end. The king turns to withdraw."

Floki stared down at his earl with a wry look; but as Karl, in all the stateliness of his majesty and manhood, came down the aisle, side by side with his beautiful queen, the grim viking drew himself up to his full height, and sought to imitate his earl's easy salute. The upswing of the giant's arm drew upon him Hildegarde's glance. At a word from her, Karl turned to smile at the Northmen, and spoke briefly with Worad.

Immediately the Count Palatine slipped aside, and informed Floki that the queen wished to inquire about the training of the king's sons.

Floki pushed out among the courtiers. But Olvir, muttering a hasty response to Worad's greeting, drew back into a niche behind a pillar.

As he did so, his eyes rested for an instant upon Fastrada. The girl was gazing directly at him, her head thrown back, her eyes narrowed to a line. When she caught his glance, she smiled and pa.s.sed on, looking down at the rings on her clasped hands.

Olvir's face clouded, and his hand went unwittingly to the hilt of his dagger. A moment, and the dark mood was past; for his gaze fell upon Rothada in her simple novice's dress. She had lingered at her devotions after the benediction, and now came slowly down the aisle behind the other wors.h.i.+ppers. Her head was bent, and her lips moved with the prayers which her white fingers told off on the rosary of pearls about her throat.

The girl was so absorbed in her devotions that she failed to see Olvir even when he stepped out beside her. Restraining his eagerness, he silently followed her down the aisle and out of the chapel. But at the first lateral pa.s.sage which opened into the main corridor, he took her by the arm and drew her within the doorway.

"Stay a moment, little vala," he said quietly. "I would speak with you."