The War-lord of the Danes, well worthy of men.
HEL-RIDE OF BRYNHILD.
While Floki and Liutrad returned to their posts, their leader sprang again to where Roland stood leaning upon Gerold's shoulder.
"You 're weary, sword-brother," he exclaimed. "Come with me--"
"Wait, friend," replied Roland. "Yonder is the maiden of whom I spoke."
"Fastrada--?"
"She stands apart with Count Hardrat, whom you threw, and Lupus, Duke of the Vascons."
"Lead on. I am eager to know the maiden who has so fast bound a warrior's heart," replied Olvir, smiling.
Gerold glanced about at the king. "We 're free to go," he said. "Our lord king has thought only for the princess."
Roland nodded impatiently and advanced at once, a hand on the shoulder of either friend. But the gaunt figure of Count Anselm blocked the way.