"Here is yet more comfort for those who have faith in spells," added Olvir. "At the king's belt swings Ironbiter, my father's sword, upon whose blade are magic runes, cut by Otkar himself. They are pledged to guard the wielder against all witchcraft and evil."
Gerold shook his head doubtingly, and drew closer to the fire. "I have more faith in Christian signs. Yet though I marked the cross while she spoke, and twice since, I say freely that I would sooner face an aurochs bull naked-handed than stand again before that witch. Thank God, she is gone!"
"Into the storm, brother!" murmured Hildegarde, pityingly. "May the dear Christ save her body from wolf and cold, and her soul from hatred!"
At the fervent prayer, Fastrada stared up at the queen as her mother had stared at Rothada. But when she met Hildegarde's mild eyes, radiant with spiritual light, her gaze sank again to the hearth at her feet, and a dark flush overspread her face. Karl, who alone gave heed to the girl's shame, mistook its cause, and his own face reddened with a guilty flush.
"God bless you, dear wife!" he muttered. "What curse can bring harm upon so gracious a soul? But as to that Wend witch, should she escape the storm and wolf-pack, let her beware the law. Though twice over the wife of Rudulf and mother of this maiden, I will enforce against her to the utmost the just doom for evil spells and witcheries. Enough for the time of the hag and her curses. She has gone out among her storm-fiends; let them cherish her. We will warm our knees by her hearth. Fetch wood for the fire!"
As Gerold and Liutrad sprang up to bring fagots from the far end of the hut, Olvir led Rothada about to the fire, and sought a new bar for the door, which was swaying to and fro with the eddying draught. Before making it fast, however, he peered out in search of the Wend woman. He might as well have sought to look through a fog on the narrow seas.
Though the first fury of the wind had spent its force, the snow was now falling with greater thickness than ever. For all Olvir could tell, their grim hostess might have been lurking within a dozen yards of the doorway. He hesitated on the threshold, and was about to shout, when his quick ear caught another note than the creak and soughing of the oak-tops.
"Floki!--The laggard comes at last!" he said, and he faced about to the steaming group around the fire. "Listen, lord king! I hear horns. My vikings come in search of their vala."
Horn in hand, Karl sprang out beside the Northman, and blew the trysting-note. Three times he repeated the call, and then at last an answering note came blaring down the wind. Off toward the river other horns caught up and re-echoed the call. The searchers were beating through the forest. Guided by frequent blasts of the king's horn, they gathered quickly through the white snow-mist.
Soon the nearest horn resounded within a spear-throw, and Olvir flung open the door, that the red firelight might glow out into the storm. Hardly had he done so, when a gigantic white figure leaped out of the swirling snow-mist, and halted within two paces of the doorway, to lean, panting, upon the long shaft of a halberd.