As the crowd parted before the Norse leaders, Karl knelt down beside their stricken earl.
"The leech,--where's the outland leech?" he demanded.
Back in the pavilion the plotters dragged Kosru to his feet.
"Hist, Magian!" cried Hardrat. "The king calls; I know that tone. Woe to you if you fail to heed!"
"Ai, God of Light! I cannot, noble lords. My limbs fail--"
"Here's the spur, dotard," said Hardrat, brutally, and he shook his dagger in the leech's face.
"Go, friend," urged Fastrada.
Reassured by her look, Kosru threw his cloak about his head, and ran, tottering, out beside the king.
But the fear-stricken Magian left behind him others little less overcome. As he passed through the entrance, Fastrada turned upon Hardrat.
"Oaf! sluggard!" she hissed. "You loiter here, and the chance is gone. Others ride first to Bordeaux. Lupus will be taken."