Olvir uttered a hollow laugh: "Then this night he should be wise as Odin."
"Thor!" cried Floki; "that is a welcome laugh. Now shall you surely live."
"I laugh with a sore heart. What of my brother?"
"They build him a hero's mound in the dewy valley."
"Would that I might see it!"
"That you shall, ring-breaker, when your strength comes again. Yours is the right to ward the hero's mound and to seek vengeance upon his slayers. For listen, son of Thorbiorn: When the king fared north, though you yet lay as a dying man, he named you Earl of the Vascon Mark. From Toulouse to Bordeaux, from the Garonne to the Pyrenees, you are earl and hersir. The sons of Lupus are borne off to the king's hall. Where the Wolf Duke ruled, you rule."
"Earl--of the Vascon Mark!" muttered Olvir. "Now, by Thor, if the men stay by me--"
"All stay but Liutrad."
"Liutrad! I 'd have thought him the last after you--"
"The king's will, earl. The Frank is minded to do well by the lad. For his good and the pleasure of the king, you will not forbid. The king looks only to your welfare. While we raced away to take thrall the Wolf Duke, the king put you in the care of Kosru, that outland warlock. The man's own head was in pledge against your death. Between his wizardry and the care of the little vala, Hel's hand was thrust back from you. But now that you grasp firmly at life again, Liutrad should be faring away north, to return the old warlock to the king's household, and to bear back the little vala to the nun-women at Chelles, whence she came."