"Olvir! Olvir!--my earl--my bright one!" he cried; and as Liutrad sprang in and halted the red mare at the edge of the gathering, Floki's long arm caught her rider from the saddle. But it was Rothada who took the king's flagon out of the cupbearer's hand and ran to place it at the lips of the Northman.
The fiery wine lent new strength to the fainting messenger. He drew away from Floki and faced the king.
"Vengeance!--vengeance, lord king!" he gasped. "Slain is the Hero--my brother--and all his host! I alone come forth alive--I alone--to call for vengeance!"
Karl's eyes blazed with terrible anger.
"Whose is the guilt?" he demanded.
But Olvir was reeling. Blood gushed from his mouth. He fell back into Floki's arms like one dead.
Quivering with rage and grief, the giant raised his earl as though a child, and turned upon the king.
"Thor!" he roared. "Do you still stand idle? Who rules the fell-folk?"
"Ha! Lupus,--that bastard fox!" cried Karl. "Where's Hardrat? Stay; 'tis a deed for his own men; they will not fail. You shall lead them yourself, Crane,--you and Liutrad. Those who have horses, let them ride; the rest follow as best they may. Five thousand of my Austrasians shall come after. Here is my seal-ring. Go swiftly to Bordeaux, and seize the Vascon Wolf!"
Without a word, Floki laid his earl upon the ground and ran to turn back the wild rush of vikings who came seething around the pavilion. Liutrad paused to lay his hand on Olvir's bloody breast and mutter a vow. Then, leading Zora by the bridle, he ran after Floki.