For a while, as the boyish warriors exchanged pledges of friendship, Olvir watched the white-bearded figure in the stern of the receding ship. At last, with a gesture of farewell, he turned and looked at the new-made friends. His face lighted at sight of their smiles, and with a quick movement he unwound one of the double spirals of gold coiled about his arm. Another twist in his sinewy fingers broke the spiral into two equal parts. Handing one to each of the young men, he explained to the Swabian: "In the North a leader who is not close-fisted is called the 'ring-breaker,' because he gives the red gold of his rings to his true friends and followers. Here, then, I give you each a ring to wear, as a token of the bond between you."
Both sought to thank him; but he cut short their words with a gesture. His face had darkened as though a shadow had fallen across it.
"May the Norns weave you good luck!" he muttered. "Not all friends lack gall in their mead."
"Surely there shall be none in the sweet mead that I 'll drink with Liutrad the loreful!" replied Gerold. "But come now. Our lord king is eager to talk with such wise heroes. It is wonderful that warriors should be so learned. Few even among monks and priests can mark fair letters. Were you and Lord Olvir baptized, his Majesty would make bishops of you both."
"As it is," rejoined Olvir, ironically, "we are benighted heathen,--sons of the fiend-god Thor. And now, as you well say, we had best be moving if we would not keep the great king waiting."
"I will walk to the villa beside my Frank friend," remarked Liutrad, as Olvir placed a hand on Zora's withers and vaulted lightly into the saddle. But Gerold would not agree.
"Yonder is the camp of one who owes me favor," he said. "I will soon have a horse for you."
With Liutrad mounted, the three quickly covered the ride to Casseneuil. Grooms of the king's stables took charge of the horses in the courtyard of the villa, and Gerold, waving aside the Grand Doorward, himself ushered his companions to the royal apartments.
Olvir and Liutrad, staring wonderingly about them at the Roman architecture and Gallo-Roman decorations of the villa, followed Gerold in half-awed silence through the flower-perfumed courts and the marble-tessellated passages. At each turn they looked to find themselves on the threshold of some grand rush-strewn hall, crowded with war-counts and the Frank king's councillors. When, however, Gerold at last led them through a curtained archway, a glance at the tapestried chamber within showed them their mistake.
"The queen's bower!" muttered Olvir, and his black eyes flashed their glance along the line of busily sewing maidens on the right to Rothada, playing with her sister and brothers at the edge of the dais that extended across the farther end of the chamber. Upon the dais sat Hildegarde herself, side by side with her royal spouse.