"No; by the beard of the Prophet! In the dusk of evening we rode over Karolah's tent and trampled his bright banner in the dust. Now will you come forth with your braggart giants and meet my friends in the game of swords?"
"I am content to lie at ease for the night," rejoined Olvir, quietly, though his eyes were blazing.
"What! is my kinsman so backward when it comes to blows? I have heard that he besought Karolah for the forefront in battle. Yet it may be he is chilled by so long sitting behind the stone. I will try a last word to stir his cold blood. When I rode over Karolah's camp, Vali Al Huseyn opened to me the gates of Saragossa and shut them in the face of the Afranj. But when Karolah named the city's ransom, he demanded that I also should be delivered over to him. Urged to the treachery by my own wife's father, the false vali assented. I was forewarned none too soon to escape from Saragossa in the night. And yet, with all my haste, let it be known to you, son of Gulnare, that I found time to force the gate of the Balatt Al Arabi and bestow on your mother's father a scratch which all the skill of Kosru my geber could not heal."
"Enough, poisoner!" lisped Olvir, almost in a whisper. "If you value life, go--go quickly!"
Though the softly uttered words barely reached his ear, the Arab could see the look on the Northman's white face. Without a word, he wheeled Zora, and clattered down the slope at headlong speed.
"Ho, the murderous nithing!" jeered Liutrad. "He flees as from the Fenris-wolf."
"None too fast to outstrip an arrow," growled Floki. "Give the word, earl! My fingers itch to drive a dart into his swart back."
"No!" gasped Olvir; and he stood glaring after the fugitive, while the cold sweat gathered and ran down his white face. "Hel seize the foul murderer! He--he, my blood kin's slayer--has named me nithing!--and I cannot leave this cursed rock heap!"
"Thor! Must we then lie idle for the sake of a Roman keep?"
"And for the vala's sake!" added Liutrad, quickly.