The bluff Northern monks spared themselves no pains to justify their fame for hospitality; but Olvir's thanks, though sincere, were briefly worded, and he had little to say to any one. When, rested and almost healed, he made ready to push on Rhineward, he handed to Abbot Baugulf a gold arm-ring, in kingly payment for his keep, and stood with unbent head while the priest poured out his fervent blessing.
From Fulda, Olvir rode steadily Rhineward on the old Roman highway, though his face spoke of doubt and indecision. But at Mayence he called Floki aside, and said briefly: "I ride alone to King Karl. Take the men down Rhine to Cologne, and make all ready aboard the longships. Fit them as for a race, and for the North Sea. I will join you in a few days, and, with Freya's aid, I shall not come alone. Another shall ride with me, whether Karl the King is loath or willing."
"Ho, ring-breaker!" croaked Floki, smiling with crafty triumph. "So we at last fare back to old Norway, and you are minded to take with you a bride. There will be joyous howling when your sea-wolves sight their vala. Yet I am minded of another matter. King Karl owes no small fee for the long service of the hero's son and his ready champions. Though we may leave somewhat hastily, on our path to Cologne stands Ingleheim, the king's new burg, which men say is filled with gold and all manner of loot."
"By Thor!" cried Olvir, his eyes flaming; "were I sure the Frank had broken his pledge, not Ingleheim alone should see sword and torch. As it is, he may yet--Christ grant he keep troth! ... No, old Crane. You must fare your way, with the peace-thongs firm knotted. If the Norns have so woven, Zora will bear me to the Rhine far in the lead of the following Franks; and there's rich loot between Cologne and Rhine Mouth."
"And what if the werwolf snare you? Let me ride with you, earl."
"I ride alone. No horse in Frank Land could bear up your weight in the flight from Attigny to Cologne. Yet again, I need you to hold the men in hand. Do not tell them over-much. They will be nimble enough if they but know it is for the little vala. Farewell."
With the word, Zora wheeled and sprang away on the long ride to Treves and across Eastern Neustria to Attigny.
For all her age and the roughness of the way, the red mare could still have covered the journey in four days. But Olvir, mindful that he might have need later of the utmost of her speed and strength, kept a tight rein on the willing mare, and was well content to double the time of the journey.
So it was that when they came to the Aisne bank, a little before nightfall of the eighth day, neither man nor rider was any the worse for the long faring. After bathing in the stream, Olvir rode into Attigny, under cover of the darkness. The little town was swarming with people; but Olvir avoided such of the streets as were torchlit, and, having secured a small room at an inn, presently found a messenger who would go to the king's palace with a token for Liutrad the scribe.
He was seated alone in his room, reading from his Greek Gospels by the light of a torch, when a deep voice sounded without the door, and a moment later the heavy panel had opened and swung to behind a huge figure in sombre priest robes. Olvir caught a glimpse of a white tonsure in the midst of the curly yellow hair, as the new-comer turned to bar the door, and then he was gazing up into Liutrad's honest, smiling face.