"How is that, friend?" called Olvir, from the entrance of the tent. "Will not Count Rudulf attend the Mayfields?"
The Saxon stared at the Norse earl in mingled surprise and admiration until Roland repeated the question, "Then Rudulf will not come to the assembly?"
"Not he! I half wish I were myself back over Rhine Stream, in the deep forest. But who is this young hero?"
"Greet him as my sword-brother. He is a Northman from beyond the Danes,--a fosterling of Otkar."
"Of Otkar!" shouted Amalwin; and he ran to grasp Olvir's hand. "The Dane himself took me thrall at the fall of the Irminsul; yet he gave me freedom, and won for me the good-will of Carloman."
Olvir nodded: "Be sure the hero spoke no ill to me of Amalwin the Saxon. But Count Rudulf--I must speak with him."
"Then you must fare over Rhine Stream, hero," rejoined Amalwin.
"I know the Grey Wolf," added Roland, nodding in assent. "If he scents forest-war, he will not stir out of his mark for all the Saracens in the old Goth realm."
"It is well I have Zora, brother. I shall start without delay. The time of your Folk-meet is not over-long."
"That is true, Northman," remarked Amalwin. "Two fortnights will see the close of the Mayfields. Though you ride the fleetest of horses, your return will find Karl the King across the Pyrenees, and the Saracens already broken."