For The White Christ Part 66

"Saints grant it!" muttered Liutrad; and the two fell to eating in moody silence.

Yet Olvir's confidence in the future was not mistaken. Before evening Berga found Liutrad a chance to speak with her mistress; and he prevailed upon Rothada to set a meeting for that very night.

Immediately after nightfall Olvir, cowled and wrapped about in the Benedictine gown brought to him by Liutrad, strolled with his friend across the burg and around the great bulk of the palace to a shadowy recess between the queen's apartments and the quarters of the court-officials. Here they found Berga waiting for them beside a small door used by the servants, and Liutrad addressed her openly: "Here is my brother priest for your sick friend."

"Let him follow," answered the woman, and she led the way into the foul-odored pa.s.sage. Olvir silently entered at her heels, leaving Liutrad to watch at the door.

Within was pitchy darkness, broken only by an occasional gleam from the rooms where the house-slaves chattered over their evening meal or lay about on their straw pallets, easing the toil of the day with broad jests and coa.r.s.e raillery. A flight of steps, steep and narrow, took Olvir and his guide beyond the servants' quarters, and in the utter blackness the Northman had need of his quick ear to follow the woman's lead. She glided softly from pa.s.sage to pa.s.sage without a word, stopping only for a touch of warning when the silence was broken by the m.u.f.fled clink of Olvir's mail beneath his monk's robe. Some little time pa.s.sed before the woman paused beside a curtained doorway.

"The princess waits within, hero," she whispered. "Enter, and comfort her. I must watch over the bairns, lest they waken and call for their sister. May Freya soften the king's heart, that your love run smooth!"

"My thanks to the good wisher," replied Olvir, and he stepped between the curtains.

He found himself in a large chamber, half lighted by the moonbeams which streamed through the high, cas.e.m.e.nted window. Where the rays struck upon the opposite wall, the grotesque figures of the tapestry-hangings stood out with such startling distinctness that Olvir stepped back and grasped the hilt of Al-hatif beneath his robe. But then a slender figure glided out into the moonlight from the shadow beside the window, and he ran forward to clasp his betrothed in his arms.

"Little vala,--little vala!" was all he could say, for the words choked in his throat at sight of her tears.

For a while she leaned her head upon his shoulder, and wept as though her heart would break; and he held her to him, unable to put into words the tenderness and compa.s.sion which filled his whole being. At last, however, she dried her tear-wet face on his robe, and looked up with a pitiable attempt to be brave.

"My hero, my hero!" she whispered.

"Little vala! Has the witch's daughter sucked your blood, that you look so white and wasted? May Hel, Loki's daughter, wither the red lips of that werwolf! May she--"

"Cease--oh, cease, Olvir! Curses ever come home to the sender. This may be the last time we shall meet here on earth. Let there be no wormwood with the bitter-sweet."

"No, Rothada, this is not our last meeting here on the fair earth."

"Will you then give way to my father? Liutrad said--"

"He said aright. I will not sell my soul, though it be for your father's kingdom. Yet, before G.o.d and man, you are my betrothed wife.

I have won you by service such as few have given the king, and--we love each other. Your father gave pledge he would send for me, and he broke troth. It is hopeless--nothing can turn his course while the witch's daughter drives--it is hopeless to appeal to him."

"What then, Olvir? Your words fill me with dread; you cherish the thought of some wild deed."

"Should it fill you with dread, darling, that I would have you wed me?"

"No, dear one; my heart sings with gladness at the word. If only it might come true!"

"You have but to say it, king's daughter."

"Would you have me wed you without the banns, Olvir,--in secret? It could not be, dear hero! When the truth became known, the anger of my father would pa.s.s all measure. He would never forgive us."

"I look to your father for nothing. He has paid me ill for loyal service. I shall now break the bond which has held me to him. Beneath the priest-robe you feel the war-gear, king's daughter. Zora is saddled for the road. Come! the night is before us. Dawn will see us far on our way to the Rhine."

"O Christ! O Holy Mother, save me!" cried the girl; and she shrank away from her lover, wide-eyed and trembling.

"Listen, darling; listen to me!" he protested. "I would not force you.

Only, I beseech you, by the love you bear me, come! At Cologne lie my longs.h.i.+ps,--my ocean-racers. Who may overtake us when we sail down Rhine Stream? _Haoi!_ how the s.h.i.+ps spring to the bowing of the long oars! Behind us lie the flat sh.o.r.es of Frisia; we ride the wild North Sea; before us tower the iron cliffs of old Norway; up Trondheim Fiord we glide, where the free men of Lade wait to welcome their earl and his bride!"

The Northman's black eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and he held out his arms. But still Rothada shrank away.

"It cannot be, dear hero!" she sighed. "It cannot be!"

"Where, then, is the love of my betrothed?"

"I love you none the less, dear, that I cannot go with you."

An agony of grief distorted Olvir's face. He flung himself down before the girl and clasped her feet.

"Come with me,--come with me!" he begged. "Here is only sorrow and parting. The king is iron."

"Yet I am his daughter. There is still hope for us, Olvir. I will plead with my father."

"And if he deny you?"

"G.o.d forbid! I can then only return to Ch.e.l.les."

"To the cloisters! My curse on them! Listen, king's daughter. You are not fated for the nun's veil. That would not fill in fullest measure the spite-cup of the witch's daughter. She will wed you to our girl-faced Count of Metz."

"That is no new tale to me, Olvir; yet I can promise you this much,--I shall never be the bride of another than yourself. If I may not choose the cloister, I will choose that which lies in my bosom."

"You bear my knife?"

"Always--ever ready for use against the bearer."

Rothada put her hand to her breast, and the blue steel of the dagger gleamed in the moonlight. Olvir took the blade from her, and pressed it to his lips.

"Be true, knife of my forging!" he muttered. "There is yet one hope--if it fail, strike true; and when you pierce her heart, I will plunge Al-hatif into my breast."

"Olvir!--you grieve me; I cannot bear it!"

"Why grieve, king's daughter? If we may not wed in this life, we shall be united forever in the life beyond."

"There is still hope; I will go to my father when he is alone, and implore him to grant us happiness."

"It may be he will yield to you--Loki! What's that? The hangings--"

Hampered though he was by the priest's gown, Olvir sprang across the room with the quickness of a leaping wolf. The tapestry, torn from its fastenings by his fierce grasp, fell apart and exposed the withered form of Kosru the leech, crouched against the wall.

"So--it is the werwolf's dotard," said Olvir, and his lip curled with a smile of utter contempt. But the spy was already grovelling on his face, terrified by the dagger and the terrible look of the Northman as he tore apart the tapestry.

"Lord--lord!--spare the aged!" he babbled. "G.o.d of Light, soften his heart! Spare me, n.o.ble count! I will tell all. I will pay you wergild for my life,--s.h.i.+ning gold,--all the scant h.o.a.rd I 've saved and put away for my helpless age!"

Olvir touched the Magian's head with his buskin, and answered coldly: "Odin bear witness--the h.o.a.rder's heart is touched! He 'd give away his gold."

"All--all, to the last penny--only spare my life! I will serve you; I 'll be your slave! Do not thrust into the grave one who already totters on the brink!"

"The greyer the viper, the deadlier its venom," rejoined the Northman, in an ominous tone. "That man is dog-wise who pa.s.ses by the evil worm because it lies in his path torpid."