"Best leave me heathen," said Olvir. "If I become anything else, it will be an Arian, whom, according to Otkar, you name heretic, and hold to be more accursed than the unbelievers."
"We will trust the grace of our Lord Christ to lead you into the true fold," replied Fulrad.
"Meantime, Roland waits to greet his may," suggested Gerold.
All smiled at the hint, and the two high councillors hastened to make way for the lover, with hearty God-speeds.
The approach of the three friends had by no means passed unobserved by the queen's maiden; and when presently they stood before her, there was an added depth of color in her cheeks, and her bosom rose and fell to a quickened heart-beat. While the great Count Roland bent to kiss her hand, she stared with glowing eyes at the sea-king. Here was a warrior such as must have been that grand old Saracen,--a hero with a soul of fire, proud as a king, who would laugh at death as at a jest.
Unable to meet the piercing brightness of Olvir's black eyes, she lowered her gaze and bowed as she had bowed to the king. Many a lord had gazed at her with the same admiring look, but never one who had roused a response in her own heart strong enough to over-ride her cool and purposeful coquetry. The blue tints in her eyes deepened, and she stood thrilling with a delicious fear. Only by a strong effort did she succeed in raising her lashes to meet the expected love-message in the stranger's eyes. To her astonishment and chagrin, the calm, full gaze that met her glance told only of frank admiration.
Not that Olvir was unmoved. He had seen many beautiful maidens among the blond daughters of the Northern earls and bondir, but never one whose loveliness was as the loveliness of this dark daughter of Thuringia. Half bewildered, he drank in her rich beauty with eager delight. Yet he did not forget that this was the maiden whom his sword-brother loved.
"So I stand before the daughter of the brave Count Rudulf," he said quietly. "No longer, Roland, do I wonder that the maiden holds your heart in leash. I trust that she will accept this trinket, which I offer in token of friendship."
Great as had been Fastrada's disappointment, she took with eagerness the gold brooch which Olvir unclasped from his cloak. At the touch of his fingers she blushed rosier than before.
"A gift with true friendship is doubly gracious," she murmured.