"No less am I glad to see you, brother," he said. But even at that moment his face clouded: "I thirst for your tidings, king's kin! No word have I heard since the host fared south,--only, the poisoner mocked me with evil tales. What of my mother's father? Is it true he met his fate--?"
"True, Olvir! The wretch struck him with a poisoned blade. We came with Al Huseyn to hunt out the traitor, but found only the dying count."
"And none stopped the murderer?"
"He was already gone, brother. It was at twilight. He and his following rode out of Saragossa before Al Huseyn could send word to the gates, and the swart hounds burst through our beleaguering lines in the darkness. I could not leave your dying kinsman,--and it was well. He intrusted me with your inheritance,--this pouch of gem-stones, and a book in Arabic script, which he said contained the wisdom of Plato, the old Greek sage. The book is on my saddle; the gems have not left my bosom since the noble count gave them into my charge."
Olvir took the heavy pouch, and, thrusting in his fist, drew out a handful of flashing gems,---rubies and emeralds and sapphires.
"Here's honor to the dead!" he exclaimed, as he held out the precious stones to Roland.
"In his honor!" replied the Frank, gravely, and he took the gift as freely as it was offered. But as the gems rolled into his palm, he picked out a great pearl, and handed it back to the giver.
"Keep this for the little princess, brother," he said.
"It is a gift for a bride, if it has mates," murmured Olvir.
"A fitting betrothal gift from a sea-king to a princess! Now that our bitterness is past, only one thing is lacking to round out my happiness. Two more years or so, and your little may--"