"Say no more, brother. That pure snow-blossom,--and I, the bloody-fanged wolf! Not a day has gone by since I saw in her eyes-- But tell me! Is it true the poisoner rode over the king's camp?"
"I must own he told you truth. We were watching for treachery, and yet the wily fox caught us unawares. When our smaller host came faring from Barcelona, Count Barnard rode across the Ebro half a day in the lead, and the king was holding war-council with him, when, in the twilight, the pagan spearmen burst upon the royal guard. Only by good chance did I bring up the horsemen in time to save our lord king."
"Thor! You 've not lacked sword-play. But what of Abd-er-Rahman, that old Omyyad lion?"
"Ask the South Wind; it alone may tell you. He proved too wary a lion to show himself within hail of the Ebro; while, for our part, with treachery in our rear, we would have been mad to fare south into the enemy's country."
"Treachery?"
"When we marched down the Ebro valley to Saragossa, the false vali of the burg closed the gates against us, though the noble Al Arabi sought to hold him to his compact. So we laid siege to the burg until Count Barnard came with the eastern host, and the poisoner sought to slay the king. Before that, messengers had come, by way of Narbonne and Barnard's host, with word from Count Rudulf that the Saxons threatened an uprising. The king at once sent Gerold and Worad Rhineward at the head of a thousand horsemen. They took the longer but safer road by way of Narbonne; for the whole land swarmed with the bands of our treacherous allies."
"That I foreboded," said Olvir. "No messenger came through with tidings."
"Small wonder! Of all our Saracen allies, your noble kinsman Al Arabi alone kept troth. We had had enough to sicken us of the Southland without old Rudulf's warnings. Already our host was wasting from fever and famine, and so, as Abd-er-Rahman would not come to give us battle, there was naught to do but to take the wergild which Vali Al Huseyn had offered to ransom his burg. The host is already following my trail."
Olvir flung out a hand toward the south: "By Loki! a bitter warfaring has it been for more than one. I have drunk a cup of gall; no less the great king--"
"Gall would have been honey to him beside that bitter draught. But see; here come my laggard riders."