"'At the hall's gable-end
Fell Sorli to earth,
But Hamdir lay low
At the end of the house.'"
Rudulf made no reply. His slit eyes were fixed in a hungry stare upon the bulky form of his black-bearded bench-mate. The Wend had been drinking steadily of the mead, and the powerful drink was already rising to his head. Drawn by the look of the old count, he turned his bloodshot eyes upon him in an insolent leer.
"Ho, Karl's dog," he jeered; "when the bear is baited, mine shall be his bed-mate; nor shall I trouble your priests."
Rudulf rose up quietly, as one who would address the company. The guests on either side of the table stilled their loud talk, and turned expectantly to the Count of the mark. For a little, he stood silent before them, his bristling face thrust forward, his narrow-lidded eyes blinking. Then, suddenly, he bared his corded arms, and his voice roared through the hall: "Traitors to Karl! thus the Grey Wolf pledges you friendship!"
Swiftly the old wrestler stooped, and his terrible grip closed about the giant Wend. The man had no time to call upon his bull-strength. Caught fast in the fatal hold, he was bent backward; there came a snapping as of a dry twig.--The Grey Wolf loosed his hold of the quivering corpse, to spring at another victim. But his wife stood between, and before he could pass her, the man had flung himself beneath the table.
Then the hall resounded with wild shouts and the clang of swords torn from their sheaths. The terrified house-slaves fled screaming into the open, or crouched against the wall, as the Thuringians rushed forward to avenge their fellow-plotter. Olvir leaped around beside Rudulf, and thrust him forward.
"To the door! to the door!" he cried.