When at last the gale-driven fleet sighted the dune shores of the old Rhine Mouth, and the ships steered in across the bar, no time was lost in beginning the ascent of the river. From a passing Frisian trader, the crews learned that war had broken out anew in Saxon Land; and after such tidings there was no need to urge the viking oarsmen to their benches whenever, in rounding the wide bends of the stream, the breeze chanced to come ahead. Olvir was not more eager than were they to reach Mayence, where both Abbot Fulrad and Gerold thought they might now look to find Karl and the court. When the missi started south, the king was about to leave for Aix, to enjoy the warm baths, and plan the building of the grand palace and the domchurch, which were so long to commemorate his reign. By this time, however, he should have returned to the Rhinegau, to urge on the construction of the new palace of Ingleheim.
But as the fleet lay to for provisions at the great stone bridge of Constantine, which spanned the Rhine at Cologne, the monks of Saint Martin of the Isle brought full account of the bloody disaster at Sunthal, to avenge which Karl the King had a month since gathered a great host and swept north into Saxon Land.
The various stories of the battle, though contradictory on many points, all agreed as to the main outline. The Sorbs, taking advantage of the fact that the grim Count Rudulf lay at Fulda helpless from the goring of a wild boar, had stirred up trouble in their mark. To quiet them, Karl had levied a host, under the command of Count Worad, the High Marshal Gilo, and Adalgis the Chamberlain, and had unwisely added to the host a contingent of Saxons.
In the midst of the forest these Saxons had deserted and fled across Eastphalia, to join the great war-earl Wittikind, who had once more returned from Denmark with fire and sword. Following the deserters to the Weser, the Franks came upon a small host under the command of Count Teutoric of the Frisian Mark, who had counselled that all should join in a united attack on the Saxon camp.
But the jealous counts planned secretly to make the attack without the famed kinsman of the king. Thinking to overwhelm the Saxons by the impetuosity of their assault, they had rushed upon the Saxon war-hedges in wildest disorder; only to be caught by the crafty Wittikind as Herman, his great predecessor, had trapped the Roman Varus. The greater part of the Frankish host, including Adalgis, Gilo, and twenty counts, had been slaughtered, and Count Worad had barely managed to bring three hundred warriors out of the ambush.
After such tidings there was no longer holding the vikings in check. The ships were at once left in charge of a scanty ship-watch, and with the swiftness of a mounted levy the vikings swept north from the Rhine toward the Saxon Mark.
But near the Ruhr a rumor reached the eager band that the king was now at Fulda; and Olvir, at the urgent request of Abbot Fulrad, turned aside toward the monastery.
The march to Fulda across the war-trampled fields of Hesse was taken far more leisurely than the rush from the Rhine. The vikings had little heart for turning aside, and there was much grumbling among them at being cheated of the merry sword-play. Even at their slower pace, however, the third day found them close upon their journey's end, where they were fated to hear that which should cool the blood-fever of the grimmest berserk in their number.
Marching through the wild beech forest, the Norse band came upon Fulda late in the day. They found the half-cleared groves around the monastery filled with the booths of the Frankish host, and everywhere, by scores and by hundreds, the leathern-jerkined warriors were to be seen cooking their evening meal, or seated in groups to eat.
It was the time of day when the men of a victorious host should have broken into song and merriment. But a hush lay upon the Frankish camp, and the faces of the less brutal among the warriors bore the gloomy look of defeated men.