"Then set us in your battle-front, lord king," replied Olvir.
"Well answered!" cried Abbot Fulrad.
"You wish to join my standard, young Dane, and seek the post of danger?" said Karl, now smiling.
"Where else should a king's son stand? For this war the foster-son of Otkar Jotuntop seeks place with his sea-wolves in the fore of your host."
"Otkar the Dane!--you his fosterling?"
"And blood kinsman."
"Where, then, is the hero?"
"His ashes lie in the mound where he reared me."
"Dead?--that giant warrior! But he sent you to make peace with the foe whom without cause he sought so mightily to harm."
"No, by Thor," rejoined Olvir, his black eyes glittering. "To the end Otkar thought only of vengeance. He gave over the task into my hand. I sailed out of the North to harry your coasts with fire and steel."