Vainly did Karl the King look that night for the coming of his Dane hawk. Neither Olvir nor Liutrad stirred from the viking camp. Nor did they go out in the morning until the king sent Gerold to call Olvir before him.
Though the bidding was worded in terms of heartiest praise, and though Gerold spoke it with the delight of one who sees a beloved friend about to attain the highest honors, Floki alone heard the message with pleasure. Liutrad turned quickly to his earl, with a troubled look, as though he dreaded some rash outburst. But his dread was baseless. Olvir showed neither delight nor anger. As quietly as he had led Zora back to the tent the evening before, he now called for the mare, and rode off to do the king's bidding.
Very shortly the three riders came to the monastery gates and entered the great courtyard. At the door of the hospice they leaped off, and, without pausing to exchange greeting with the counts who stood about the yard, turned at once to enter. As they passed through the doorway, Olvir stepped before his companions and gazed up the long guest-hall. Beyond the square of white light which poured down through the roof-hole, he perceived a group of men in the semi-gloom at the far end of the room. The king stood with his back to the entrance; but Olvir knew him at once by his powerful figure and the stateliness of his bearing.
Then, in turn, he made out Abbot Fulrad and Count Hardrat, old Rudulf of the Sorb Mark, and Baugulf, who had been chosen abbot in the year 780, when the venerable Sturm departed this life. There was one other present,--a stooped, thin-faced priest, unknown to Olvir.
The three young warriors had hardly crossed the threshold when Rudulf's slit eyes caught sight of them. At his guttural exclamation, Karl faced about and peered down the hall. In a moment he had recognized Olvir by the brightness of his mail, and was advancing with swift strides to meet him. The counts and priests followed, Rudulf supported between the two abbots.
Olvir and the king met in the full light beneath the roof-hole. The Northman's face was pale and stern, and as he halted, he raised his hand in formal salute. But Karl gave no heed to this coldness. His great hands clasped Olvir by the shoulders, and he stood beaming down into the young man's hard-set face.
"Greeting! greeting to my just steward,--to my bright Dane!" he cried. "We grieve that you no longer rule over the folk of Vascon Land; but greater is our joy to welcome you in our presence."
Olvir quivered beneath the royal praise as though he had been struck, and his face flushed hotly. But, curbing his anger, he gazed direct into the king's eyes and answered with cold deliberation: "For whatever I have done, lord king, I have been repaid in full. Once the praise of the King of the Franks would have tasted sweet in my mouth; now gall is not more bitter."
A cry of amazement burst from the lips of the priests and counts, and Karl himself stepped back, frowning and bewildered.
"How now, Olvir?" he demanded. "What riddle is this?"