"And he would not strike,--my sister's son! But his anger--?"
"The daughter of Rudulf and I broke troth; why, I will not tell,--let men think what they may. Roland met her. I do not know what she told him; but he came upon me like a berserk."
"No doubt the maiden was angry, and in her anger may have overstepped the truth. A word may set Roland right and heal your quarrel."
"Let him ask, then! He has broken blood-troth. He is the one to salve the hurt."
For some moments Karl regarded the young Northman's haughty face with impassive gravity. When at length he broke the silence, his gaze shifted to the jewelled Al-hatif.
"Yours is a gay sword," he observed.
"No less a keen blade," muttered Olvir.
"It shall soon test the Saracen mail. May it spur Abd-er-Rahman into the sea! Christ conquers; the heathen hosts shall flee before his warriors."
The king paused, and looked upwards into the blue sky, his face aglow. After some little time his gaze returned to Olvir.
"Listen, kin of Otkar," he said; "this is my war-scheme: Barnard, my uncle, marches around by way of Narbonne. He will leave men to hold the burgs of our allies in the northeast quarter of the old Goth realm, thus hedging in Septimania from counter-attack. At Saragossa we join hosts, cross the Ebro with our Saracen allies, and march south against the great burg called Toledo. If that burg falls before Abd-er-Rahman comes to battle for his kingdom, we strike yet farther south at Cordova, his chief burg and royal seat; while Ibn Habib, the kinsman of Kasim, crosses over from Africa to harry in the rear of the Saracen lion,--so Al Arabi and Kasim have given pledge. Now, what does my Dane hawk say? The Saracen folk cannot stand before us in battle. That was proven by my father's father. It is a fiery land; yet the war will be brief. Behind us is the support of our pagan allies and the Christian mountaineers; what can defeat us?"