As he approached Paris, Olvir began to fear that Zora's hoofs would soon crack from the continual beating on the hard roads. So he sought out the most noted ironsmith in the city, and he and Zora lodged that night in the hovel of the low-born sledge-wielder.
Never had Zora been groomed as she was groomed by the smith that night and in the morning; and when it came to the shoeing, one would have thought the mare a queen, with such care and delicacy did the man fit on the light iron running shoes. While he then spent the forenoon in yet more grooming, Olvir took a stroll into the city. He found gardens and convents, hovels and palaces, spread over all the Island of Notre Dame and along both banks of the Seine opposite. Undeterred by the narrowness and filth of the streets, he crossed the ancient Roman bridge to the island, and visited the palaces of Clovis and Julian the Apostate, and the great domchurches of Saint Genevieve and Saint Merdicus.
Noon, however, saw the king's messenger not only back at the hut, but ready for the road. He had found Zora sleek as silk and bright-eyed, eager to start. When he mounted he said nothing of pay; but the smith bowed and smiled, and wished the princely king's rider a hearty _God-speed_. Smiling in turn, Olvir put his hand to one of the gold spirals on his left arm; and when the smith, who had not heeded the quick movement, grasped the Northman's hand, he felt an angular piece of heavy metal pressed into his palm. The giver's hand was withdrawn, and the smith stood gaping at the lump of yellow gold that was worth more than his forge and his home and all else he possessed, though he threw in the very shirt upon his back.
Before the man could recover wit enough to cry out his thanks, Olvir was riding away down the crooked street. It was the hour when most of the Franks were seeking the customary noon-rest, and there were few folk abroad to admire and wonder at the king's messenger as he threaded the narrow ways and passed over the Roman bridges to the north bank. Before long Zora bore him through the main gate of the suburban walls, and galloped away on the road to Mayence.
A short ride to the Convent of Chelles on the Marne, where Olvir delivered a message to the abbess for young Gisela, the king's sister; then Zora was given free rein. The Frankish smith had shod the mare so skilfully that she at once fell into her stride, and the race swept on across Neustria, north and east into Austrasia.