"Treachery."
"True. But of that I have no fear,--even from Count Kasim. The Saracen king has hunted him like a wolf and slain his kinfolk."
"There is yet the Vascon," remarked Olvir, dryly.
"Him!" rejoined Karl. "The Merwing hound dare not yap at my cold shoe. In the early years of my kingship he gave over to me his own kinsman, Hunold of Aquitania, at the first threat. Enough of such! Now I would speak with Roland; afterwards with Abbot Fulrad."
Olvir saluted, and wheeled Zora about. The act brought him face to face with Roland, riding alone at the head of the retinue. The count met his glance with a troubled look; but Olvir passed by, and signed to Liutrad.
"Tell Lord Roland the king would speak with him," he said.
The merry young giant nodded, and, without a blink of surprise at the transference of the message, spurred forward on Gerold's last gift,--a heavy horse of Frankish breed.
Olvir reined Zora aside and waited for the retinue to pass. His intention was to fall back among his own men, as far away as possible from his one-time brother and his one-time love. But while he rode with the king, Abbot Fulrad had brought Rothada forward to rejoin her maiden companion. A glimpse of the little princess staring at him from her litter in round-eyed wonderment altered Olvir's purpose.
Regardless alike of the cold-eyed courtiers and Fastrada's hateful smile, he guided Zora in among the retinue until she paced beside Rothada's litter. He met the dubious look of Abbot Fulrad with an easy smile.
"The king would speak with you, lord priest," he said, and as the white-haired churchman urged his mule forward, Olvir bent gravely over Rothada.