For The White Christ Part 49

"I might guess," said Liutrad, in response to the queen's glance. "Yet why not ask Gerold? None should know better than he."

"Brother!" called Hildegarde; and when the young Swabian came circling back to her side, she pointed skywards. "It seems that our Norse hero is fearful of the storm-boding. He would have it that we wander too far afield."

"Ah, Olvir; so you still fret at the storm-light," laughed Gerold, and he cast a careless glance at the sky.

"In old Norway such a boding would bring the wind howling about our ears within an hour," rejoined Olvir.

"Here it will come with the sundown," said Gerold. "There is yet no moaning in the oak-tops."

"Enough!" cried his sister. "Rejoin the lads. We 'll fare on."

Though far from satisfied, Olvir made no further protest. Saluting the queen, he at once fell back with Rothada to their former position in the rear. Surely Gerold should know. If he gave a.s.surance of safety, why need an outlander doubt? And it was very pleasant to glide on into the forest depths, side by side with the little vala. Having done his part, he could now put away all thought of mishap, and give himself over to joy.

Constant practice with Olvir through all the happy days of Yule had gained for Rothada a skate-stroke which in lightness and grace all but equalled that of Hildegarde herself. With the light staff-spear balanced in her left hand, and scarf and cloak floating back from her shoulders, the king's daughter skimmed over the ice-street with all the airy freedom of a bird. But for the glint of the upcurving skate-runners as her slender foot peeped from beneath her skirt, Olvir might well have fancied that her flight was winged. Life and love had driven the last trace of cloister pallor from her rounding cheeks, and beamed from her eyes with the tender radiance of perfect trust and joy.

The loveliness of his princess set every fibre of Olvir's being atingle with rapture. His black eyes gazed down adoringly upon her lissome body and dainty foot; upon the glossy braids which lay entwined with bright ribbons down her heaving bosom; upon the flower-like face beneath its jewelled cap; most of all, upon the soft eyes, half-veiled by the tresses wind-blown across the white forehead.

Mile after mile, the forest glided past in an endless maze of gnarled trunks and leafless branches; but, like the queen, the lovers were lost to all sense of time and distance. Gradually the s.p.a.ce between them had lessened. Now Rothada's hand was upon Olvir's shoulder; his arm was clasped about her waist, and he was softly chanting to her of the fells and fiords, of the salmon leaping in the torrents, and the crimson glow of the midnight sun.

When at last Hildegarde gave the word to turn, the lovers halted with the others, and stood before them without altering their pose. Neither would have become aware of Hildegarde's look of surprise or of Liutrad's and Gerold's smiles, had not young Karl cried out in boyish glee: "See, mother, Rothada and Count Olvir! Sister will wed our lord father's bright Dane hawk, and he 'll never fly away to his frost-white eyry."

"The dear Christ grant that such may be the outcome, child," replied Hildegarde; and she gazed, with a tender smile, at Rothada's downbent head. "Now that your sister gives proof of her love, all should go well. Count Olvir has only to accept baptism."

"Baptism, dear dame! Should you not rather say, the yoke of priestly rule?"

"Olvir, Olvir! put aside your stubborn pride! You little know how hard it is for our lord to give his sweet maiden into another's keeping. If, then, he holds you in such friends.h.i.+p, should you not be willing to bend to Christ?"

"That I already do, Dame Hildegarde," replied Olvir, gravely. "But let us spare ourselves now. We are afield, and should give ourselves over to joy."

"Lord Olvir speaks well, mother," exclaimed Pepin, flouris.h.i.+ng his javelin. "Lead on again! We may yet chance upon an elk or bear."

"No, sister; about and homeward!" cried Gerold, in sudden alarm. "Hear the moaning in the oak-tops! How can I ever forgive myself? The storm's upon us, and we so far from shelter!"

"I alone am at fault," said Hildegarde. "Had I given heed to Olvir's warning, by now we should have been within sight of home. Lend your aid to the lads, brother. If you tire, Liutrad will take your place."

"Beside me, lads!" cried Gerold, impatiently.

The boys darted in to grasp the ends of the Swabian's crossed spear, and with a shout all three struck out on the homeward race. After them glided Hildegarde and Liutrad with long, easy strokes, while Olvir, his arm still clasped about his little princess, swept her along in the wake of the others like a cl.u.s.ter of thistledown upborne by the breeze.

Spurred on by his alarm, Gerold steadily increased the pace, until the air whistled in the ears of the skaters, and the long miles melted away beneath their flas.h.i.+ng ice-blades in swift succession. Few skaters, however, could long sustain so rapid a stroke, and Gerold at last found that he had overestimated his strength. Unhampered, he might have held on without slackening to the very end of the course; but his strength and training were now offset by the weight of the two boys. Little more than half the homeward course had been covered when his strokes began to flag, and he found himself compelled to ease the pace. Liutrad was quick to heed his friend's distress.

"Ho, gossip!" he called; "you 're all but winded. Leave Pepin to me, and fall behind. I 'll lead for a while."

"Lead, then! I must give way," panted Gerold, and reluctantly he slackened speed for the Northman to pa.s.s. At the moment, however, Pepin uttered a wild view-halloo, and dashed aside toward the river-bank, followed hotly by young Karl.

"A wolf!" sang out Liutrad, at sight of the gaunt black beast bounding silently along the bank among the alders.

"Ho! see the cowardly brute make off!" shouted Gerold, as the wolf leaped away into the forest.

"Cowardly?" repeated Hildegarde. "It seems to me very bold of the lone beast to follow an armed party in midday."

"Greyleg fares ill in the winter woods," answered Liutrad, in a careless tone, and he beckoned to the disappointed young hunters. "Hasten, lads!

If we find ourselves within a league of the villa before the storm bursts, we shall be doing well."

"G.o.d grant no worse befall us!" muttered Olvir, half aloud, and as the boys circled back to their new places in the party, he drew his war-bow from its case and strung it, ready for instant use. But at Rothada's startled look, he smiled, and said lightly: "Now I dare Greyleg to peer out the second time. He shall find his bane without waiting for the spears of bairns."

"He will do well to overtake us again, Olvir, now that Liutrad leads."

"True, dear heart. Few even in the North can out-ride Liutrad on the ice-steeds, and his bigness breaks the wind for those of us who follow.

Lean more to the stroke, dear one, and waste no breath in words."

Obediently Rothada bent forward on his supporting arm, while Olvir, freed from her inquiring gaze, searched the river-banks with his glance, and turned his head as though straining to catch the first note of some distant cry. He had not long to wait.

So faint that at first even the listening ear could scarcely tell it from the moaning of the oak boughs, down the wind came floating that most dismal of all sounds,--the long-drawn howl of a wolf. Olvir's face grew tense, and his grip on the war-bow tightened as he glanced down at Rothada. But he held on after the others, without a word, though howl after howl was borne to his ears by the freshening breeze.

CHAPTER XI

--Oft Wyrd preserveth Undoomed earl--if he doughty be.

BEOWULF.

At first none other than Olvir gave heed to the dreary cry; for now the storm's forerunners came soughing through the leafless treetops. A half-mile, however, and the howls had merged into one continuous note that rose and fell on the breeze like the wail of fiends in torment.

Even Rothada's untrained ear caught the appalling sound as it swelled out with a sudden flaw of the wind. The girl cowered and pressed closer to her companion. Nor was she alone in her fear. With all their boyish pride, her brothers cried out in dread, and Gerold turned as pale as his sister. Liutrad slackened speed, and looked instinctively to Olvir.

"Hearken, earl!" he called. "The wolf-pack is before us! Should we not turn back?"

"_Heu!_" shouted Gerold; "turn--turn and fly while there's yet time!"

"Where?" rejoined Olvir,--"to perish in the forest? The storm lowers.

Our only hope is ahead. Let us only sweep by the pack, and we may yet gain safety. At the worst, we can mount an oak till Floki brings aid.

Lead on, son of Erling! Already we glide through the midst of the horde. Look back!"

A cry of terror burst from all others than Liutrad as they stared back over their shoulders. From the point of the last bend, not a hundred paces behind them, a dozen gaunt beasts were breaking cover to leap out upon the ice. Even as the skaters looked about, other bands of the silent pursuers sprang into the open from either bank, and a dry snapping in the alders drew the eye to half-hidden forms flitting through the thickets abreast of the party.

Suddenly a huge grey wolf leaped out from the left bank, several yards in the lead of the skaters. The beast made no attempt to attack the quarry. Hardly even did he look at them, but bounded along on the ice-edge, whining like a young dog. The strange actions of the beast, coupled with the silence of the gathering pack, struck Liutrad's stout heart with a fear little less intense than that of his companions.

"Tyr! the beasts are upon us!" he shouted, and, gripping Hildegarde and Pepin fast in his giant grasp, he bent far over and drove into the teeth of the freshening wind at racing speed. At his heels followed Gerold with young Karl, keen to hold the vantage of the wind-break offered by the great body of the Northman.

Olvir, however, did not join in the mad rush. With a word of a.s.surance to Rothada, he freed his hold of her and plucked an arrow from his quiver. With the tw.a.n.g of the bow the grey leader of the wolf-pack uttered a yell and leaped high in the air, pierced through and through by the Norse arrow. Even as the beast fell dying, Olvir was back at Rothada's side, and his arm linked in hers with a grip of steel.

"Ho, dear heart!" he cried cheerily; "now will Odin's dogs whet their fangs on the bones of their leader, while we race away up the ice-street. Bend now--yet farther! The others outstrip us."

"Christ save us!" gasped Rothada, despairingly.