"But all listen to the tale of the Wend witch's daughter," added Olvir, bitterly.
"We would hear you speak, hero. The maiden says nothing. Only, Lupus--"
"Lupus! Let that fox look to his crooked tongue! When the daughter of Rudulf speaks, I will answer. Until then my sword speaks for me."
Count Amalwin bent forward, with an altered look.
"You speak rashly, young man," he said; "but your eye is clear, and--Lupus has a crafty wit. I doubt if you are so greatly in the wrong as he hints in his twisted talk."
"Believe as you choose," said Olvir. "I have had enough of Frank love and Frank troth. In the North we are not so hasty to put shame upon a man. Now, if you are not minded to sword-play, I have only to weigh anchor."
"By the fiend Odin!" growled Amalwin; "you are a proud blade, even for Otkar's fostering. Hear me; I am of a mind with Gerold, and,--a friend's word in your ear,--if you come Rhineward, look that you shun the Grey Wolf and his mate."
"My thanks for the warning," said Olvir, coldly. "Yet it is needless. I sail homewards. Your king has broken troth."
"No, Olvir," interrupted Gerold; "the king keeps troth. I myself heard the command given. Your band is chosen for the king's shieldburg. At the Pyrenees you will be called to the front."
"So! by the King of Skalds, that is another tune," replied Olvir, and he turned to the Saxon with a quick smile. "Sharp words have passed,--it may be mine were sharpest; but none should look for other than snarls from a baited bear."