"Does the stooping hawk heed the lure?" rejoined Olvir, as coldly. "You chose us for shieldburg, lord king. As such--"
"Answer me, by Saint Michael! Would you have struck my ally?"
Olvir's black eyes flashed defiance straight into the eyes of the king.
"By Thor!" he cried. "By Thor and the White Christ! Had Kasim my kinsman charged past yonder spear, he and a host of his swart hounds should have fared hence to Loki's daughter!"
Karl's brows met over the long, arched nose, and his nostrils quivered. But the last word rang in his ear,--daughter! daughter! Suddenly he found himself regarding the affair from an entirely different point of view. Had not the young Dane good cause to mistrust the Saracen? Was he not charged with the safety of his king and of all the royal party,--officials and unarmed priests,--above all, the maidens?
Olvir was not slow to heed the sudden return of friendliness which lighted the king's face; but his own retained its gloom. He was sore to the heart with the injustice which had been done him. Karl perceived his bitter look, yet reached out his hand, and the Northman could not do other than take it. Holding fast the slender fingers in his great palm, the king turned in his saddle and called aloud: "Hearken, my liegemen! Before all, I give thanks to Lord Olvir, who most ably has proved his charge. If any had doubt as to the trueness of our guard, they may now feel assured."
"No longer may any doubt!" cried Roland, spurring forward through the viking ranks.
Olvir glanced about; but at the moment the royal standard dipped to the breeze, and he failed to see Roland's face. He turned back to the king with a look that was grave without bitterness, and met the Frank's parting grip with a responsive clasp.
CHAPTER XXI
O, for my Sigurd