Olvir's lip curled in a slow smile.
"A fox will snap in his own den, and, at the best, the mountain-cats are hard to hold. You may look for aid to the Beni Al Abbas; but count neither on Christian Vascon nor Christian Goth."
"What! do you hold that the Christian folk would choose their pagan oppressors before a ruler of their own faith? Our Holy Father Hadrian numbers them among the truest of Christians."
"And yet, lord king, the Moslem yoke is lighter on their necks than is your own upon the folk of Aquitania."
At the bold assertion, Karl's heavy brows met in a frown, and an angry light shone from his grey eyes.
"My yoke,--my yoke!" he repeated slowly. "By my sword, young Dane, you are no court-man. Otkar himself would scarce have ventured so bitter a jeer."
"Jeer! The king asked my counsel, and I gave it. I believe what I spoke; it came to me from Otkar. Why, then, should I not speak it?"
"Why not?" rejoined Karl; and he burst into hearty laughter. Then, falling grave again, he nodded, and called out approvingly, "Here, in truth, is a king's son! Hearken, my Dane hawk; though I have bold counts as well as sleek flatterers, my ears are not used to such biting truths. It shall be otherwise hereafter. I will not willingly part with so straight-tongued a counsellor."
The great Frank paused to pat the heads of the three boys astride his knees.
"May these bairns prove as bold," he added. "And now, enough of such matters. I had intended, Olvir, to test your learning, and that of your ruddy-cheeked follower; but that must now wait. After the feast of Lupus, we will have you both come of an evening to feast us on your book-lore."