"You speak words of ill-omen, lord Dane," said Worad, flushing. "The Franks have never been stronger. All outland folk tremble before Karl our King."
"Not all! I know of one folk--"
"Hold, Olvir, for my sake, if not for your own," broke in Roland. "Nothing but bitterness can come of wrangling. Look! there comes the folk-herald to tell the findings of the assembly."
"That is he," assented Worad, "the small man on the grey horse."
The herald leaned from his saddle to speak with the king, and then, at a nod from Karl, he rose in his stirrups and shouted down the long table: "Ho, lords of the Franks' king! learn that the freemen of the realm have confirmed all laws sent before them by his Majesty, and they give their full voice for war against the pagan Saracens."
As the shout which greeted this announcement died away, the herald's voice again rang through the grove; "Hearken, all, lords of the king! He who is not prepared let him make ready. Two days hence the host will march."
At this command the war-counts filled the grove with their shouts, and their zeal was so great that many rushed off leaving half-filled trenchers.
No Frank was more pleased than was Olvir.
"Come, brother!" he cried. "I must see to my vikings. They will be armed for my return."
"You will find them brisk in action. Floki has not let them lie about idle."