"Now I'm your thrall, king's daughter; for I wear your bond," he said.
"A collar, earl, that should not chafe even the pride of a sea-king," remarked Liutrad, who had fallen back to the opposite side of Rothada's litter. Olvir smiled into his honest, ruddy face.
"Well said, lad; for it's the gift of a true heart," he replied, and he cast a piercing glance at Fastrada. But the Thuringian, though within ear-shot, gave no sign that she either saw or heard. She was surrounded by a group of favorite admirers, who crowded about her litter, enjoying at the same time her beauty and her subtle wit. In wholesome dread of Olvir's quick ear, the maiden said nothing against him; but the hostile feeling of her companions was apparent in their shrugs and glances.
To this Olvir did not pay the slightest heed. Liutrad, however, took the matter more to heart. With boys like the pages such unfriendliness might be excusable. But Worad, notwithstanding his girlish face, was a learned count and skilled warrior, and during Olvir's Rhine journey he had not only enjoyed the hospitality of the viking camp, but had pledged friendship with Gerold and Liutrad. Of all which Liutrad grumbled to his earl across the litter, until Rothada and Olvir joined in laughing him into his usual good-humor.
The road had now plunged into a vast forest of beech and oak, and through the vistas Olvir pointed out to his companions the glittering white crest of Mount Altobiscar, toward which they were steadily ascending.
Gradually the wooded spurs of the great barrier closed in. The way became narrow and steep. Lofty cliffs, whose crannies were green with hardy box, towered above the invaders. Oaks and beeches were giving place to firs. High in the genial, sunny air other peaks than Altobiscar thrust up their jagged snow-crests.
Nearer and nearer the mountain towered above the narrow road, until the vanguard of the invaders could look directly up at the glittering summit, five thousand feet above them. Slowly horsemen and footmen wound through the wild gorges of Ibañeta, whose savage grandeur over-awed all others than the Bavarians and the mountain-bred warriors of the North. For them the dizzy cliffs and crags served only to stir pleasant memories of their own rugged lands. But the Frankish dwellers of forest and plain gazed about them half fearfully, well assured that such gloomy cliffs and jagged heights must be the abode of malevolent kobolds and scrats, if not of dragons.
No trace of man other than the old Roman way was to be seen in the pass. Nature here ruled alone in one of her wildest moods. From their eyries on the crags of Altobiscar, eagles swooped down to view the invaders, and their screams echoed weirdly through the gorge, above the dull tramp of hoofs and buskins and the clink and ring of war-gear.
All Rothada's delight had now given place to dread of the echoes and the savage scenery, and she would have wished herself back on the peaceful Garonne, had not Olvir set about diverting her attention by jests and droll tales.
So, without sign of opposition or danger, the host poured down through the ominous gorge, to enjoy the well-earned rest in the dewy valley below.