"Heu!" growled Rudulf; "I thought as much,--a court-man; and yet such mail-- You ride a shapely mare."
"There are worse."
"She is lean. You rode hard."
"Twelve days since, she drank from the Garonne at Casseneuil."
The Thuringian shifted on his bench and peered at Olvir with narrowing eyes.
"Liars are abhorred alike by Odin and the White Christ."
"Here is the king's message, sealed with his great seal. Doubtless Fulrad, Keeper of the Seal, noted the date of sending," replied Olvir, coolly; and he held out the folded parchment.
Rudulf took the message in a hairy fist, and stared at the barbarous Latin of the address.
"Open and read," said Olvir.
"How--am I a monk? That shall wait a while. You spoke of other tidings."