"Greeting, Floki," said Olvir, in a very quiet tone. "You come over-late to the skating."
"Forgive, earl!" replied the tall viking. "Let the king say if the storm did not burst before the signs boded; and, more, we 've had a game on the way."
"Saint Michael!" cried Karl; "you 're torn, man,--you bleed! The wolves!"
"They had their chase, lord king; now they rest on the ice. Only a few turned back before us. After the blood-game, we spread out from either bank. A witling could have guessed that you 'd tricked the grey dogs in the flurry."
"Come within," said Olvir. "The others draw near. I 'll bind up your shoulder while they gather."
"Let be, ring-breaker. I would not bring blood before the queen and our little vala. It is only a flesh nip, and can wait. Here come those whom I outran. Make ready the women and bairns, and we 'll bear all to the king's burg."
"Better for them to linger by the warm hearth till the storm is spent," said Olvir.
But Karl struck his fist into his open palm.
"No! by all the fiends, no!" he swore. "We linger no longer under this unholy roof. Ho! within there,--Liutrad--Gerold! Cast the brands among the fagots, and let all come out. Guests arrive; we should have hearth-cheer for all."
Obedient to the king's command, the young men swept the blazing brands from the hearthstone across to the high-heaped stack of fuel. Quickly the flames licked in among the dry fagots, and spread to right and left. Then, puzzled, but satisfied that they had done the king's will, the young men followed the others from the hut. As they passed the threshold, a dozen vikings came leaping out of the white swirl, wild with delight at sight of their little vala.