"That is not true," said Olvir, staring intently at the grey-shrouded figure of the woman.
"The hero talks foolishly. She who was my daughter lies in the king's arms; Count Olvir lies on the Saale bank."
"It is easy to speak bold words when the face is hidden," rejoined Olvir.
At the taunt, the witch flung back her cloak, exposing fully to the red firelight the ghastly adder mark upon her cheek and the weasels nestling in her bosom. Roused by the movement, the little beasts crawled upon her shoulders, and stared, fiery-eyed, at the stranger.
"Now I see the face of the alruna," said Olvir, quietly. "Let her speak."
"What more should I say, Dane hawk? Go through the Frank's realm; ask of the king's men if their lord keeps troth with them; ask of the harried Saxons whose is the bitter tongue that is ever inflaming the king's mind to bloodshed."
"Enough of ill talk, wife," growled Rudulf. "King Karl will do right by our guest-friend."
"Well said, old Grey Dog!" rejoined the woman, scoffingly. "Your teeth have worn blunt on the bones of Karl's foemen, and now you 'd whine and lick your master's foot, lest he beat you from the kennel."
"Your tongue is keen, wife, but your speech dull," replied Rudulf, unmoved. "There's little wit to be found in your jeering talk."
"It may prove a biting jest when the queen's hound comes to lie in the kennel of the king's dog. Ai, my Grey Wolf! your ears are keen for the footfall of sword-foes, but you do not hear the tread of those who come creeping from the king's hall."