Why does it grieve you not?
WHETTING OF GUDRUN.
Bitterly was Olvir to regret that he had bent to the subtle taunt of the witch's daughter. Had he taken Rothada before her father in the first flush of his wedding joy, Karl could have refused them nothing. But he had let himself be lured away to the fen-lands, far from king and court; while the new queen was ever at the side of the world-ruler, free at all times to whisper her guileful words into his willing ear. Olvir had no need of Liutrad's gloomy letters to tell him of the evil spell which the witch's daughter had laid on the great Frank. Before the year was out, it was commonly known, even in Frisia, how the king's bride, who never smiled, had driven Count Hardrat and others of her countrymen from the court with scoffs and biting jests, had poisoned the king's mind with evil thoughts of his most devoted liegemen, and had hardened his heart to bloodshed and cruelty.
After many dreary months of waiting, it was with a feeling almost of joy that Olvir received the curt command which bade him join young Karl and Gerold at the Sigiburg. The king had gone north to hunt out the wary Engern and Eastphalians, and had left the Frankish horsemen under the nominal command of his sturdy son, to meet the mounted forces of the Westphalians.
Even war was preferable to the torment of inaction, and in the great battle of horsemen which was fought on the Lippe, Olvir proved that if he had lost his old-time zest for fighting, he had by no means lost his daring and quickness. The Saxons were defeated with great slaughter, though not until Olvir had twice saved the life of young Karl.
For such a service, Olvir might well have looked for some special mark of the king's favor. But the queen had gone north with the court, to join Karl on the Weser, and not even a word of praise came from the gay camp near Sunthal, where Karl lingered until after Yuletide.
Then came the command signed by Angilram, the new Keeper of the Seal, saying that young Karl should join his father at the Eresburg, leaving the horsemen under Gerold's charge; while Count Olvir should march into Thuringia, to give aid to Rudulf, Count of the Sorb Mark.
The tidings of Abbot Fulrad's death were very grievous to Olvir; for the kindly old councillor had been his strongest friend at court. And to this cup of sorrow was added the gall of Teutoric's reinstatement as Count of the Frisian Mark. This, however, Karl himself sought to excuse by a scroll in his own rude, bold handwriting. Teutoric had at last recovered from his long illness, and had asked for his old countship. In giving it to him again, he, Karl, had meant nothing against his Dane hawk, but thought to honor him by sending him into the Sorb Mark, where there was need of his sword. Sometime in the spring, if the Sorbs had become quiet, he should call his bright falcon to him.
Filled with renewed hope by this promise, Olvir bade Gerold farewell, and marched swiftly across Westphalia with his vikings. At the Eresburg, he left young Karl to await his father, who had stopped at Paderborn; but he himself marched on with his vikings, over the Fulda and Werra, into the great forest of the Thuringians.
Not until they reached the banks of the Saale did the vikings come upon the Grey Wolf's lair,--a great fenced camp on the farthermost border of the Sorb Mark. But if their journey was long, their welcome was hearty enough to make amends. Morose and savage as was his nature, old Rudulf greeted Olvir with the open friendliness of one fearless man for another. He had long since put away the grudge which he had once cherished against the Northman, and now he could even speak of the spurning of his daughter without bitterness. Half jestingly, he called to mind that all but forgotten event, and pointed out how that which had seemed so ill a happening had, in the end, turned out well omened for all. Was not his daughter the king's wedded wife, and Olvir plighted to the king's daughter?