"Have no thought for the mare, ring-breaker," he said. "Gerold and I will groom her with our own hands."
Among the first of the company to congratulate the Northman on his wonderful ride was Duke Lupus.
"I rejoice, hero, that you are here to be with us on the morrow," he concluded. "Count Roland and your learned young Liutrad have planned a boating party up the Lot. The queen herself will attend, and also one whom I need not name."
"My thanks for the good tidings," replied Olvir, and his hand closed with cordial firmness about the Vascon's soft palm.
Then Lupus glided away, and Count Amalwin thrust forward a slim, hazel-eyed young warrior, whose firm-set jaw alone saved his delicate face from girlish softness.
"Here, hero," called out the Saxon; "you have wrestled with Rudulf; here now is one, half a monk, who will strive to match you in book-craft,--Worad, Count of Metz."
"Not I, hero!" protested the young man. "Already Liutrad has worsted me. If the man be so learned, how dare I meet the master? Rather, measure your lore with Abbot Fulrad."
"You would set me against all the learning of Frank Land," said Olvir, smiling.
"That we shall, lad," replied the king. "For what should we gain learning, if not to impart it? My war-counts, alas, give little heed to letters."
"The greater heed we give to our swords, lord king," mumbled Amalwin.