Karl stared down into the upraised eyes of his queen, and they were as the eyes of a wolf, glaring green with exultant hate. He turned to stride across the room, and as he turned, he saw again before him the gentle eyes of his daughter,--the pleading face of Himiltrude's child. Twice he paced across the room, the angry flush slowly receding from his face.
Then he paused before his queen, and said coldly, "Seek your bed, wife. This is no place for grieving dames. As to my Dane hawk, rest content. He shall fare from my realm, an outlaw."
"How!--the murderer? Are you mad, son of Pepin? Free to go?--that traitor!"
"No traitor, dame; and he may have had cause for vengeance against your kin. As to the leech, he was but an outlander,--a wizened dotard, already on the grave's edge,--and the Dane is the bravest of all my counts. I have loved him as a kinsman. Enough! His doom is spoken. I give him this night. Then Gerold shall bid him go, under pain of death if he linger an hour after sunrise. Here, Worad, is my signet. After the baptizing of the Saxons, the High Marshal and his horsemen will ride with you to Cologne, on the trail of the outlaw,--to drive him and his wolf-pack from my kingdom."
CHAPTER XXV
I will fare back thither
From whence I came,
To my nighest kin
And those who know me.
LAY OF SIGURD.