"That is a notable henchman, brother," observed Roland.
Olvir made no reply. Silent as before, he followed his companions to the Vascon's hall. In the light of passing torches they saw his face livid with grief and anger.
In the Roman portico Roland paused and laid a hand on the Northman's shoulder.
"Guests--even armed guests--should come to the feast smiling," he said.
"True; yet my mouth tastes of gall,--my own kinsman!"
"There is that within will sweeten the taste, hero," replied Gerold. "Do not shame us with your frown."
"Lead in, then," said Olvir, and he smothered down the rage and grief which distorted his face. Before the three had passed the threshold of the banquet-chamber, the Northman's look, though stern, no longer showed a trace of passion.
CHAPTER XI
A fair may know I,
Fair of all the fairest,