And most ill hap!
LAY OF GUDRUN.
Never had Olvir or Rothada known a happier winter. As betrothed lovers they were allowed much greater freedom than would otherwise have been held seemly. Hildegarde often invited the Northman, with Gerold and Liutrad, to her bower, and there the lovers would sit by the hour in a quiet window-nook, watching the games of the king's children. Sometimes the young men and the bower-maidens joined in the play, and there was wild merriment in the bower. At other times the presence of the king restrained the roisterers to more sedate amusements.
But Olvir was not always left in peace with his betrothed. The many churchmen at Thionville, with Alcuin at their head, were untiring in their efforts to convince him of the divine right of the Pope and Holy Church. Over and over again, Olvir stated the high ideals of life which he had gathered from the Gospels by his own reading, but the pious churchmen had no ears for such heresy. Who so sacrilegious as to dispute the dogmas of the wise and holy Augustine? Even Karl was puzzled and annoyed by Olvir's failure to accept the argument of "authority."
But though Olvir found it no great task to withstand the priests, his position was not so easy when he came to the well-wishers who appealed to his heart instead of his head. Hildegarde had masses sung for his conversion, so great was her concern. Between his wish to gratify both king and queen and his desire to win his bride, Olvir came far nearer to losing the struggle than through any arguing of the priests. Yet through it all he held fast to his first stand, even at the times when Karl himself, roused by the failures of his churchmen, took part in the dispute and sought to sweep away the defences of the Northman by the sheer force of his giant will.
So the winter months slipped by, and at last in sunny nooks the earth began to peer through the holes in its white coverlet. Then the Moselle burst its fetters and rolled free in the sunshine, while Ostara of the Saxons came sauntering up from the Southlands, blowing open the leaf-buds with her fragrant breath and strewing behind her a trail of early blossoms.
Never had the outer conditions of the land seemed more in keeping with the quiet joy and peace of the Pascal season. The plans of Alcuin and Karl for a general educational movement throughout the kingdom were well under way, and gave promise of speedy fruition,--to the glory of the king and the uplifting of his subjects.
Into the midst of this peace and quiet the war-storm burst from the Saxon forests without forewarning. On the very eve of Easter Sunday, a messenger from Count Rudulf came riding in hot haste, with word that Wittikind was back again from the North, followed by a host of Nordalbingians.
Further tidings of disaster were not long delayed. From all parts of Saxon Land messengers came flying, with report of fire and sword, bloodshed and sacrilege. The wild forest-folk, Eastphalians, Westphalians, and Engern, had risen to a man, and, under the leadership of Hessi and Alf and Bruno, were rushing to join the standard of the indomitable Wittikind. Last of all came riders from Teutoric, Count of the Frisian Mark. The Frisians were marching eastwards across their fenlands, everywhere slaying and burning, like their Saxon kinsmen. All beyond the Rhine, from Thuringia to the North Sea, the land was aflame.
Such were the fearful tidings which were to bring sorrow to many a Frankish hearthside and shatter the great king's fond dream of peace. Olvir's forebodings of what Verden should bring forth had been verified even more fully than he had expected. It was the hour of promise for Wittikind, son of Wanekind. All the internecine bitterness and jealousies of the tribes had melted away in the heat of their common fury against the Frank. For the first time in the long struggle, the utterly free forest-dwellers had forgotten the narrow boundaries of their shires, and placed themselves willingly under a common leader.