"Surely he has already strengthened your arm. In all the land you stand second only to the king my father!--But you spoke of Otkar the Dane. Tell me more about him, cousin. Already I know that he was a heathen count from the far North, more learned than any monk or priest, and in battle mightier even than my father. Two winters ago there came to Chelles a maiden who knew many tales of the Saxon and Lombard wars,--Fastrada--"
Roland's cheeks flushed, and he stooped forward eagerly.
"Fastrada!" he exclaimed. "You knew her?"
"For a winter's time---"
"You will meet her again. She is now one of the queen's maidens,--the fairest of them all."
"Then you like her, cousin," replied Rothada, with innocent candor. "It was different with Gisela and me. Many of the maidens feared her, and she broke the holy rules and talked so much of warriors that the good abbess sent her away. Yet that is long since--she may have changed."
"None could but like her now, child," replied Roland, softly. Yet even as he spoke, some unwelcome thought blotted the smile from his face. He frowned and stared moodily out into the wavering mists.
The girl followed his look, and the sight of the water alongside recalled her to the present.
"See, kinsman," she said, with a sudden return of gayety, "the sailors spread the sail. How long shall we be upon the sea until we reach the Garonne?"
"Were we travelling by land, I could tell you, little princess. But I am no sea-count. Our shipmaster can best answer you."