Ulric the Jarl

by William Stoddard

  “Let him go free,” said Tostig. “He hath wild fowl enough for the catching, but he will swim far before he runneth on land again.”

  It was a time of doubt and of waiting, but the drifting ceased not. There was much discussion at intervals, among even the elder seamen, as to precisely in what part of the sea they now might be, for there were no guidings. Toward the sunset, after long hours of idleness that brought weariness, Ulric went and stood by the hammer of Thor on the fore deck. Tostig the Red came and stood by him and laid his hand upon the hammer, for Tostig was a smith, as had been his fathers before him. Not only could he smelt iron out of the right rock, but he could harden it for cutting and for bending and springing. The secret of that art was his inheritance, and Hilda had said that it was a thing that the old gods who were dead had brought with them from the east before Asa Thor’s time. It was from a rising-sun land, but a cold one, that Odin led his children, said some, and there were runes on the rocks to prove it, if they might be read by any now living.

  “We go faster,” said Tostig. “We have already gone far this day. If the gods were against us, I think they would not so swiftly bear us forward without wind or work.”

  “Who knoweth the will of the gods?” replied Ulric. “Not thou or I. They puzzle me greatly. I would they might come at times and show themselves. How can one know what to think of a god he hath never seen! I mean to look upon one of them, if I may, before I sail back to the Northland. That were a thing worth telling of a winter evening by the fire in the hall.”

  “And have all men answer thee that thou wert lying?” laughed Knud cheerily, from behind Tostig. “I believe that Hilda seeth them at an hour that cometh to her, but I would rather let them alone. I will think well of them if they will but shove us along in the right direction. They work finely now, it seemeth, but the sun goeth down. Thor hath been friendly to us during all his day, but I doubt if we are as safe after he is gone. The morrow will be Freya’s day, and she meddleth not overmuch with seafaring matters. Ægir is the god of the sea, and of him we know but little, nor of Ran, his wife, nor of his nine daughters. They must at this hour be all under the ice doing nothing.”

  The saying of Knud was a thing that it was hard to dispute, but it was in Ulric’s mind to wonder whether or not he and his vikings were drifting altogether beyond the help of the old gods of the North.

  The wind began to blow strongly, and the men listened with eager ears, for they thought that they could now and then hear shrill and angry voices from the neighborhood of the ice king. Some of them were like shrieks, but these may have been made by the gale itself, blowing among the crags and chasms.

  “We will both eat and drink,” commanded Ulric. “Let every man be hearty, that he may have his full strength for that which may be before him.”

  After he himself had eaten he went to the after deck, putting his hand upon the tiller. From that place he might best watch the ice king, and there came others to stand with him, waiting.

  “He is very tall,” said Ulric, at last. “I doubt if we shall ever look upon his like again. But saw ye ever such moonlight? I have known days when I could not see so well as I can this night.”

  “Aye,” said Wulf. “I know this moon. It is not such light as ours, for he hath brought it with him. It is the light which the gods make instead of sunlight in his own place, and it will not go south any further than he goeth. But mark the bears!”

  “Something troubleth them,” said Ulric.

  All could see them plainly, and they were like ghosts wandering to and fro among the rugged heaps of the ice floes. They were much scattered and they moved as if they were hunting for something which they could not find, and they were calling often to each other, moaning as if they were in pain or in great discontent. Sometimes as they did so they lifted up their heads toward the moon, but oftener toward the ice king.

  “Look at him now!” exclaimed Ulric. “The moon is shining upon him wonderfully.

  “It is so,” said Tostig, “but I think not of that. Wilt thou note this, that whenever there cometh a boom of the rending ice the bears call out to their mates? More than we do they know of such matters. All such creatures have gods of their own, and we may have offended them. I like it not.”

  “The gods of the bears will care for the bears!” said Knud. “They have naught to do with men.”

  Nevertheless, it was a time for men to speak softly concerning such things when powers whom they saw not and knew not were dragging them and their ship along so helplessly. There are times when one feeleth that he can get along well enough without the gods, but this was a different matter. All the vikings talked soberly and they were glad that their jarl was a son of Odin.

  It was a strange, solemn, weird night in spite of the moonlight, what with the peril and the moaning bears and the booming ice. After all, they said, Odin himself might not be with them. There had been places, as all men knew, where all the gods had abandoned even the bravest of the Northmen. Men like themselves had died without a sword cut or a spear thrust. All hope of falling in battle might be lost to them among these treacherous ice floes. It was a short night, if there had been aught to measure it by, but to the men on The Sword it seemed long enough. None cared to go under a deck, but there were some who lay down and slept. The moon sank lower and lower and the shadows lengthened acrossthe ice fields, but there was yet a great flood of broken light when Ulric, the son of Brander, uttered a loud cry and put his war horn to his lips. Every man sprang to his feet, for each thought that he had never before heard such a blast as that. A louder sound instantly answered it, but none could tell whether it came from among the ice peaks or from down toward the bottom of the sea.

  “The bears are moaning again!” said Knud. He was ever thinking of his bears, but all the rest were hearkening for what might be coming next, and they knew not yet the meaning of Ulric’s blast.

  “Oars!” shouted the jarl. “Every man to his place! There is free water southerly. The ice king is bowing!”

  Loudly moaned the bears, for a moment, and they seemed to be running toward the ship, as if they would come on board; and Ulric blew his horn again with the notes of battle defiance, but then there burst out upon all sides a roaring, splitting, rending sound, such as none of the vikings had ever heard before.

  “He hath struck! He is aground!” shouted Ulric. “Hark to his breaking! His hour is come!”

  If that were true, so also it seemed as if the hour of The Sword had come, and of all who were on board of her. But the gods were with her. If the forefoot of the ice king had indeed caught upon a shoal, checking and breaking him, the shock of that striking had separated the great floe in front of him so that it might move freely. Still it no longer upheld him, and he suddenly began to pitch forward toward the ship. Vast was the roll of the sea that swelled away from his pitching, and powerfully it uplifted The Sword in her bed of ice.

  “Hold hard, all!” shouted Ulric. “Ready with your oars! Odin!”

  Up gazed they then, and the bravest of them shuddered, for the gigantic white head of the ice king was bowing nearer, as if he would cast himself upon them. On rolled the great wave, steadily, and all along the crest of it the ice it carried was rending into fragments that ground angrily against each other. The floe that carried The Sword became twain that parted, letting her down and shooting her swiftly forward. It was just then that the ice king fell upon his face, his uppermost pinnacle almost crashing upon her stern.

  The foaming water dashed across the deck and drenched Ulric at the tiller. He was wearing no headpiece now, and the salt spray drops glittered brightly among his yellow curls. But they glistened not with moonlight, for while they all had waited and watched the sun had risen and his first rays lit the hero face of the son of Odin as he shouted to his men to row their best, and as he steered the good ship The Sword into the open water the White Horse banner of the Saxons floated gallantly from the masthead and men sprang to set free the sail.

  “Hael,
O Ulric the Jarl!” shouted Knud the Bear. “We have a good sea captain.”

  So said several of the elder vikings.

  “Hael, all!” cheerily responded Ulric. “The ice king hath fallen and we shall fear him no more. The gods are with us!”

  Loudly shouted they all, and those who were not rowing clashed their swords upon their shields as if they had won a victory.

  “Aye!” growled Tostig the Red. “‘Tis a stout ship.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER VII. The Living Sand.

  IT WAS THE TIME of thaw in the Northland, but the snow and ice go fast when the winter letteth go its hold. Already great reaches of land were bare, but no man might travel far from his own home because of the floods from the melting. All must wait until days should pass, and these were growing longer, but they were full of unrest. Even the cattle in their enclosures lowed impatiently to one another; for the brute creatures know well the signs of the return of green grass to their pastures. In the house of Brander there was no shadow because of the absence of any who had gone, but these were spoken of cheerfully. Moreover, there came boats and larger keels into the cove from other villages up and down the coast and from out the fiords that were opening. Far and wide had been known the building of The Sword, and many would have been glad to look upon her. All these were disappointed, but there were wise old vikings and jarls of note who said to Hilda:

  “Thy foster son hath done well. It is like his father. Other keels will follow him speedily, but he will be first to strike.”

  As if she had been mistress of the house was Hilda, and she entertained well all who came. Reverence was paid her because of her high descent and her kinship to Odin the Strong, and because of her hundred winters, but even more because of her learning and her knowledge of the gods. Men asked her questions concerning them, and there were those who believed that she had seen and known more than she would tell.

  “I would not like to anger her,” said one, “lest she might afterward come to me in a bad hour, for she hath knowledge of charms and of witchcraft and she can write runes.”

  There was reason in that, said all, but that she was a kindly woman and that she kept the house of Brander liberally.

  Much time she now spent among the old armor, the trophies on the wall, and in the study of such things as had been brought from the lands around the Middle Sea. She made Oswald open his bag and she read the many inscriptions upon his coins, and she talked to him of Greece and of Rome, where most of them were made. He also knew about his gold and silver pieces, and there were some even of copper for which he had names and values. What good was there in such things in a land like this, where money was not needed?

  “I would that Ulric had them,” she said. “He might buy with them another ship, or provisions, or arms.”

  “Not save of a friend,” replied Oswald. “He will need nothing that his sword can win for him. It is not the custom of the vikings to be long in need.”

  The household knew by her face that her thoughts were not troubling her concerning Ulric and his men.

  “She hath had no ill token,” they said. “It must be that he doeth well.”

  They knew not of the ice king, nor how narrowly he had missed his last angry blow at The Sword. But that peril was over and the good ship was flying along in safety, driven by strong rowers, who had also some help from the sail. They would have had more but that the winds were variable. Therefore the days and the nights went by before they again saw land, and the older seamen knew by that that they had kept in the open sea and were well advanced in their voyage.

  “How fast or how far the ice king bore us I know not,” said Knud the Bear, “but if that headland were not of one of the northern isles, we have seen a cape of North Britain.”

  “Not so far south as that,” argued Tostig the Red, “but all these coasts are bad to land upon. There is naught worth the taking away.”

  “Our errand is not to them,” said Ulric. “We will not waste an arrow upon them. I will not let the prow of The Sword touch the sand until we see the mid-coast of the British island——”

  “We shall see a storm this night,” interrupted an old viking. “The wind changeth to the northwest, and Knud may wear his bearskins. It will be cold.”

  When the night fell all were willing to cover well; but the rowers might rest, for the ship carried her sail all the more safely because it was not too large and because she was well laden. There was a spirit upon Ulric which kept him at the helm, so that his men needed almost to take him away by force that he might sleep.

  “I would I might see Hilda and have speech with her,” he said to himself. “I have strange dreams when I close my eyes. She might tell me what they mean. Do the gods come to one when he is asleep? I have heard so. But they have told me nothing—save that I have dreamed of men who wore the armor that hangeth behind the table on the dais. Strong men they were, and dark, and I think they were good swordsmen. Before long it may chance that we shall meet a trireme of the Romans if my dreams have that reading. I must burn one of their ships before we pass these seas.”

  Heavier blew the gale and higher rose the waves, and The Sword sped on as if she were a waterfowl, but all on board were willing to be as well covered as was Knud the Bear. The night was dark and the next morning they saw no land. The storm drove them onward steadily all day, and now and then they saw ice floating, but no sail of any ship. Again the night came, and the moon was out and the wind lulled, but the waves were still rough.

  “We will not row,” said Ulric, when they inquired of him. “There are coasts now not far away. When the dawn cometh we will seek some bay or harbor. I have heard that there are villages of North folk hereaway, and they would be friendly.”

  So said they all save Tostig the Red, who laughed somewhat grimly and replied:

  “I think there are villages upon many coasts whereof the folk are willing to be friendly to a crew like this. The seax hath many acquaintances who are willing to see him stay quietly in the belt.”

  “So hath the ax,” growled old Biorn the Berserker. It was rare for him to speak, but he was leaning upon the long handle of his weapon, and when he lay down on the deck the ax slept beside him.

  It was after the middle watch that night, and Ulric was at the helm. He was steering a straight course southward and the ship was slipping quietly over the waves. He was awake, truly, but somehow he seemed to himself to be dreaming almost, and his eyes were downcast. “The runes upon the sand,” he muttered. “I can see them now, before the wave washed them away. When and where am I to see them again, and to know that my voyage is ended? Who shall read runes, and how shall I be sure that I am not mistaken? For Hilda will not be there——”

  Even as he spoke there came to his ears a sound, and he looked suddenly up, gripping hard the tiller.

  “Faint and far away,” he exclaimed, “but it was a trumpet! There are three in the hall at the house and Oswald taught me their soundings. Up, all! Rowers to the oars! I will send an answer!”

  Long and powerful was the horn blast that went out across the moonlit sea. Clearer and louder than before was the trumpet voice which instantly responded from the right—and that was toward the British shore. The men shouted not, for they were listening, and those who knew were telling the younger vikings that the jarl had heard from the Romans. It was good news to hear, after long waiting, and the rowers put out the long oars eagerly.

  “The dawn draweth near,” shouted Ulric, after blowing his horn again. “We will steer toward yonder trumpet. There will be much music with the sun’s rising. We will see if the gods of Rome are better than the gods of the North in the seas of Britain.”

  Loud voices answered him bidding him lead on; for the blood of the vikings was rising hotly, and Biorn the Berserker sharpened the edge of his great ax while he beat the deck with his feet and out through his thickly bearded lips there poured, low, but swelling, a song of the skalds at the gate of battle.

  Red grew the edges o
f the eastern sky as The Sword pressed her iron beak to the crests of the waves and sprang forward. Joyously rang out the war horn of warrior after warrior, for on board were vikings of high descent who would not have chosen for their jarl any of less degree than a son of Odin. They were men entitled to go forward into the feast of swords shoulder to shoulder with kings and with chiefs of renown. Said one of them to Ulric:

  “Jarl Ulric, many spears from the stowage. The Romans cast well and their spears are heavy. I mind not their light javelins nor their arrows. Close not with any trireme at the first.”

  “I will be prudent,” replied Ulric; “but bring out the spears. There are arrow sheaves enough and stones for slinging.”

  “Let them not ram The Sword,” continued the old fighter. “Her ribs are strong, but so is the beak of a war galley of Rome. Strike her not save amidships.”

  Well was it for older men to counsel so young a leader, but Ulric had been taught from his infancy not only by Brander the Brave and Oswald, but by all the sea kings and berserkers to whom he had listened while they talked of war around the mid-fire in the old hall. Naught had they said or sung but he had made its teachings his own against an hour like this.

  “A trireme!” shouted Knud the Bear as the daylight brightened. “She is of the largest. Helmets and standards and the shields of a cohort of a legion. They are more in number than we are.”

  “Twice more,” said the old counselor, “and her bulk is nearly thrice that of The Sword. Beware, O jarl!”

  “I see her well,” responded Ulric. “She is heavy in the water. I think she is overburdened.”

  “They are swift also,” said Tostig the Red, “but that keel cannot turn as nimbly as can our own. Let us go nearer!”

  “Within a spear’s cast!” shouted Ulric, fiercely. “We will not pass her without a blow. Wulf, take thou the helm. I will go to the fore deck.”