"May Worad eat bitter herbs when he sits at board! The base wretch, to covet a friend's betrothed!"
"Waste no thought on him, lad. The werwolf alone--"
"True; her ring holds him with its magic glamour, even as it has cast its spell over our lord king."
"Ring or no, she is at the root of all the trouble. The world-hero is as wax in her white hands. I have talked much with the Franks since you left me. It is she who has turned away the king's heart from mercy. Not the Saxons alone, but the nearest of his liegemen have suffered from his harshness; and I must have my share, though the dints in my shield and helmet should read me title to fairer reward. Ah, well, better luck in Skuld's hand! Another day may bring a rift in the clouds."
"Saints grant it!" muttered Liutrad; and the two fell to eating in moody silence.
Yet Olvir's confidence in the future was not mistaken. Before evening Berga found Liutrad a chance to speak with her mistress; and he prevailed upon Rothada to set a meeting for that very night.
Immediately after nightfall Olvir, cowled and wrapped about in the Benedictine gown brought to him by Liutrad, strolled with his friend across the burg and around the great bulk of the palace to a shadowy recess between the queen's apartments and the quarters of the court-officials. Here they found Berga waiting for them beside a small door used by the servants, and Liutrad addressed her openly: "Here is my brother priest for your sick friend."
"Let him follow," answered the woman, and she led the way into the foul-odored passage. Olvir silently entered at her heels, leaving Liutrad to watch at the door.
Within was pitchy darkness, broken only by an occasional gleam from the rooms where the house-slaves chattered over their evening meal or lay about on their straw pallets, easing the toil of the day with broad jests and coarse raillery. A flight of steps, steep and narrow, took Olvir and his guide beyond the servants' quarters, and in the utter blackness the Northman had need of his quick ear to follow the woman's lead. She glided softly from passage to passage without a word, stopping only for a touch of warning when the silence was broken by the muffled clink of Olvir's mail beneath his monk's robe. Some little time passed before the woman paused beside a curtained doorway.
"The princess waits within, hero," she whispered. "Enter, and comfort her. I must watch over the bairns, lest they waken and call for their sister. May Freya soften the king's heart, that your love run smooth!"