"Now, by Loki!" he cried; "here we stand, witch-dame. Let us test the power of your spells."
"Not so, hero. I have tested what I would test, even as the Grey Wolf has tested you. Yet there is more. Answer me with a straight tongue. Can you name yourself a king?"
"Sea-king,--no land-king. Yet my father, whose name you divined, was King of Lade, and I am now heir to the high-seat."
The woman bent her head, and muttered to herself in her strange tongue. Rudulf stood waiting, as though spellbound; but Olvir, grown impatient, stepped about to go.
"Farewell, dame," he said briskly.
"Go, king's son-- Yet listen! I doubt. It should be king; not king's son--and grey of eye. Hei! all is misty. The fiend-gods are angered. Stay with us this night. I will make sacrifice and sing the fate-songs."
Olvir laughed. "I ask no aid from gods I scorn."
"Then I leave you to your fate."
"What the Norns weave will come to pass. Again I say, farewell, dame. Come, Rudulf, if your word is true."
Rudulf turned to his wife, and, meeting a gesture of assent, hurried out after Olvir and the red mare. At his whistle, a powerful black horse came running from the meadow, and the count mounted without saddle or bridle. Side by side, Thuringian and Northman rode through the wild beech-wood to Fulda; and, on the way, the old count plied his daughter's suitor with many shrewd questions. To all alike Olvir made satisfactory answer; and the Thuringian raised no objections even when he learned that the young sea-king might soon bear off his bride to his far Northern home. It was enough for the Grey Wolf that the suitor was a tried warrior of good birth.