"Look for yourselves," answered Olvir, as he handed the arrow to Roland. "Beware the point, brother."
"This is no Frank shaft," said Roland, the instant he felt the arrow.
"No," replied Olvir, bitterly; "nor is the steel glazed for rust guard. Otkar brought the like from Saracen Land. They are more deadly than the adder."
"But who--"
"My Saracen kinsman, the younger envoy. Have I not won the old sheik's love and taken Zora from him?"
"The foul pagan!" muttered Roland. "But we have passed him. No more arrows whistle."
"And the snake crawls away unscathed!" spluttered Gerold, boiling with righteous anger.
But Olvir stood silent. Not until the boat swung in beside the villa landing did he speak a word, and then only a curt command: "Moor offshore, Floki, and wait."
"A dreary watch," remarked Gerold. "I could send wine--"
"Thanks, lad; but we have mead aboard," replied Floki. "A merry feast to you!"