For The White Christ Part 51

"The king!" shouted Olvir, as he swung in to join himself to the near end of the line.

A welcoming hail burst from the lips of the skaters, and as they felt the thrust of Olvir's tireless stroke, they swept on with added speed.

Even Rothada found new strength in the joy of her hero's presence, and, no longer contented with gliding, she joined in the swinging stroke of the others.

CHAPTER XII

Now behold the fourth rede: If ill witch thee bideth, Woe-begetting by the way, Good going farther Rather than guesting, Though thick night be upon thee.

LAY OF SIGRDRIFA.

Though the blast struck quartering in the faces of the skaters, the brunt of its force was broken by the king's body; so that the others, dragged on by his bull-strength and Olvir's wiry vigor, held to a pace which lost none of the distance they had gained on the wolf-pack before the storm burst.

"Thor!" shouted Liutrad, hoa.r.s.e but joyful. "We cheat both werwolves and storm-fiends! We shall soon be sitting by the glowing hearth!"

"G.o.d grant it!" replied Karl. "Yet you crow too soon, lad. There's a turn ahead will bring us into the teeth of the wind. Even now we should be swerving."

"Saint Michael!" gasped Gerold. "We can never drive against this blast!"

"No, by Thor!" called back Olvir. "Even now we can scarce hold our own--and behind comes the horde! We are doomed if we linger on the ice.

To the bank, lord king! There's no other way!"

"A hard truth, Dane hawk! Yet it is better to freeze than to be torn by ravening beasts. _Heu_! I know of a hut among the oaks. To the forest! The pack runs blind, with neither sight nor scent. They 'll follow the river and pa.s.s us by."

"To the bank!" shouted Liutrad and Gerold; and the line of skaters swung around to glide insh.o.r.e. Blinded by the whirling flakes, they drove upon the low bank before aware of its nearness. Staggering and half falling, they stumbled across the rough ice-rim, and flung themselves down upon the bank to tear at their skate-thongs.

Olvir did not wait to untie knots. Even as he loosed his grip on young Karl, he drew his silver-hilted dagger. In a twinkling he had freed both himself and the boy, and was springing to the side of Rothada.

Thrusting her skates with his own and young Karl's into his empty quiver, he drew the maiden to her feet. The others had all freed themselves, and sprang up together.

"Leave no scent for the wood-fiends! Hold to your skates, and follow me!" commanded Karl. Flinging his younger son upon his shoulder, he grasped Hildegarde by the hand, and rushed headlong in among the oaks.

Liutrad caught up Pepin as the king had taken his brother, and dashed away after their leader. Olvir and Gerold, with Rothada between them, followed as closely upon his heels. They were none too quick. Hardly had they covered a hundred paces, when behind them a sudden burst of fierce yells rang out across the wind.

"G.o.d save us! they 've turned!" gasped Rothada; while Gerold gripped his sword-hilt and loosened the blade in its sheath, in readiness for his last fight. But the yelling cry died away as quickly as it had swelled out. The wolf-pack had overshot the snow-swept trail, and were racing on around the river-bend. For many minutes, however, the king led on into the forest without slackening his swift stride. He did not check himself until Hildegarde stumbled and half fell.

"Dear lord, I am very weary," she sighed.

Halting so abruptly that Liutrad almost ran upon him, Karl caught his queen in his free arm, and drew her close.

"Rest, sweetheart," he said gently. "We are safe for a time."

"A long time, lord king," added Liutrad. "Even should the pack turn, they 'd do well to hunt us out in this wild flurry."

All the party drew close together, and stood panting, while the shrieking storm-fiends swirled the snow about them in dizzy eddies.

Soon, however, Olvir felt Rothada s.h.i.+ver beneath his cloak.

"Lead on, lord king," he said. "To linger here is death! Lead on to your hut."

Karl raised his head, and peered around through the driving snow.

"By my sword, Olvir," he muttered; "you ask what is beyond my skill.

Here among the trees the blast swirls down from every quarter. Who could guide through such a storm?"

"Then we must wander blindly. If we stand, we shall perish of cold."

"Follow, then. We 'll try at a venture."

"Stay, sire!" warned Gerold. "What comes behind you?"

Karl turned sharply to stare at the huge form which loomed up out of the snow-mist and drifted by within a spear-length. As it pa.s.sed, the great shape swung about its steaming muzzle to sniff at the party, and then it lumbered on at the same leisurely gait.

"A bear!" muttered Karl; and he drew back to s.h.i.+eld his helpless charges.

Liutrad sprang before him with brandished spear.

"White biorn!" he cried,--"white biorn! What does the berg-rider in Frank Land?"

"Were I yet heathen," rejoined Olvir, "I 'd say we look upon the king's sprite."

"It is--it is, earl! No beast could pa.s.s so quietly. Follow your guardian sprite, sire! It leads you to safety!"

"Would you have me follow a forest fiend? And yet, beast or sprite, we can do no better! Come, then; our guide vanishes."

"Lead on, sire," answered Olvir; and all hurried in pursuit of the dim white figure. Once close upon it, they slackened their pace, and silently followed the wraith-like guide as it lumbered steadily onward into the forest.

Half a league or more had been pa.s.sed, and both Hildegarde and Rothada were nearly outspent, when the strange guide swerved suddenly and disappeared. At the same moment a dark object, broader than any oak, loomed before the wanderers. They advanced, turning a little to one side, and there, only a few paces before them, they saw a red spot glowing in the dark barrier.

"The hut!" cried Karl.

Gerold sprang ahead, and, thrusting open a loose corner of the window parchment, peered into the hut. The others would have hurried past him to the rude door just beyond; but he uttered a low cry, and stepped before the king with outstretched hands.

"Stay, sire, stay!" he muttered in a hushed tone. "Better wolf and storm than witch-cheer! Look within!"

Startled by the warning, Karl and then Liutrad peered through the broken parchment, and each in turn drew back with the same look which distended the eyes of the Swabian. Last of all, Olvir put his eye to the hole.

The first glance showed him a squalid little room whose walls of rotting logs stood out grimy and bare in the glow of the driftwood fire. The rafters of the low thatch were veiled by the smoke, indriven by the wind, which eddied through the roof-hole and sent little whirls of snowflakes hissing into the flames.

Crouched upon the rude hearth, across the fire from each other, were two women; and Olvir instantly recognized the one on the left as Fastrada.

She sat with her head thrust forward, gazing keenly across at her hearth-mate.

After the maiden, Olvir felt little surprise when his glance turned to the tall woman who sat rocking to and fro on the edge of the hearth and crooning a strange song, while weasels played about her feet and ran up and down her outstretched arms. It was the girl's mother, the Wend mate of the old Grey Wolf.

The woman's head was uncovered, and Olvir stared with keen curiosity at her black hair and aquiline features. Her dark oval face still showed traces of great beauty; but age and witch-deeds had stained and withered her cheeks and caused the once beautiful eyes to sink deep into their sockets. Even without the weasels, the look of malignant joy on the witch's face would have set most hearts to quaking. But Olvir was smiling, half pityingly, at the dread which even the king had betrayed, when the witch chanced to turn so that the firelight struck upon her cheek. At the sight he started and almost cried out. It seemed to him that a red adder had thrust up from beneath the woman's neckband and laid its venomous head upon her cheek. When he stared more closely, however, he saw that the snake-head, though perfect in outline, was only a crimson blotch upon the witch's skin. He drew back with a grim laugh.

"No wonder she hid her face," he muttered. "What woman would not, with such a mark? But now--ho, lord king; why do we linger? Let us hasten in."

"In!" rejoined Gerold,--"a witch den!"