There he stood in the morning light, as the two keels neared each other. The Roman trumpets sounded at intervals, and they were answered by the war horns of the vikings.
“She is a splendid war vessel,” said Ulric to those who were with him. “Never yet have we builded her like. Her bulwarks are higher than ours and her sail is many times broader. It is made of woven stuff. Her prow is a ram. We must not let her strike us.”
“Neither will we strike her,” said Biorn the Berserker, “unless we can hit her amidships. She is a danger. O jarl, beware! I do not think we may take that trireme, but we can get away from her.”
So did not think the trierarch and the centurion on board the trireme. He who was captain of the vessel was of one accord with the officer in charge of the legionaries whom she was conveying. If Ulric could have heard them converse asThe Sword came toward them, he would have learned somewhat of the estimation in which such as he were held by the wolves of Rome.
“A Saxon pirate, O Lentulus,” said the trierarch to the man in armor at his side. “It is early in the season for them to be seen in these waters. They are the scourges of the sea.”
“And of the shore, friend Comus,” replied the centurion. “We will make short work of this one. It is of good size, and it swarmeth with men as with bees.”
“Hast thou ever met them in fight?” asked Comus, “or is this thy first sight of them?”
“This is my first service in these waters,” replied Lentulus, “but I have heard much of them. I would we had some legions of them to send against the Parthians, or into Africa. Laurentius had a cohort of them with him in Spain. They make the best of gladiators; Cæsar hath used them in the arena. But it is hard to take them. Let us see if we cannot send him a present of these pirates for the summer games. He is ever in need of good swordsmen.”
“Little thou knowest of them,” laughed Comus. “We may capture a few wounded men. The rest will die fighting.”
Even while he spoke Tostig the Red was remarking to his friends at the stern of The Sword, just forward of the deck: “A fine stone for my sling is this. I will strike that high-crested one. There is often much treasure on a trireme, if Thor will let us take her. But the men we want not, nor the keel.”
“Burn her,” they said, “and throw the soldiers overboard; but the Romans die where they stand. We shall take no prisoners but the rowers. The jarl will slay them.” So without thought of mercy on either side did the two keels draw nearer.
They were not yet within a spear’s cast when they who were with Tostig stood away from him to give him slinging room. “He is the best slinger,” they said, “on all the North coast. Let us see what he can do. He is not a boaster.”
As the vessel climbed a wave Tostig poised himself, swinging slowly the leathern thong which upheld the square apron in which his pebble rested. Two pounds only in weight it may have been, but it was smooth and round from much chafing on the shore of the fiord with other pebbles as the sea waves had tossed them to and fro in many storms. Over the crest of the wave went The Sword, and as she did so the sling began to whirl swiftly in the hand of Tostig. Hand went to hand to give it double force, and then, as the downward plunge of the keel went with him, he gave his might to it and threw.
None saw the stone, so swiftly did it pass, but the trierarch said to the centurion:
“O Lentulus, thou art said to be as good a spearman as Pontius of Asia. Have thy pilum ready and try thy fortune.”
“It is too far,” said Lentulus, poising his pilum. “I was in battle once with that same Pontius. Hercules! I am slain!”
Loud clanged his brazen helmet and prone he fell upon the deck. He did not move again. The stone hurled by Tostig had left him but life enough for that one outcry as it smote him.
“May all the gods forbid!” exclaimed Comus. “What ill fortune is this? He is dead! Toward the pirate! Strike her through and through!”
Even as he spoke a legionary at his side went down before a second stone from the sling of Tostig, and the shouts of the vikings mingled with the clangor of their war horns.
Deft was the steering of Wulf and the swift rush of the trireme was avoided, The Sword passing her stern so near that every spearman might make a cast. But the legionaries, pilum in hand, had faced the further bulwark, thinking their foe came that way, and not so many of them were at good stations. Their bowmen also had been deceived, and their greater number was of no account. Nevertheless, many Roman spears flew well, being mostly of the lighter javelins used by them in the beginning of a fight. Easily were these caught upon the broad shields of the vikings, as if it were in a mere game at home, and no harm was done by them or by the arrows. Closer were they when they did their own throwing, and a hundred heavy spears went hurtling in among the legionaries.
“Follow!” shouted Comus. “Have ready the grapplings! Strike and then board her!”
A good officer was he, and the rowers as well as the legionaries obeyed him angrily, for they deemed the Northmen insolent in assailing such superior force.
“Away!” shouted Ulric. “Hael to thee, O Tostig. Get thee to the stern and pitch thy pebbles among her rowers.”
Tostig was toiling hard, and so were other good slingers, of whom the trireme seemed to not have any, but The Sword swept on out of range while her enemy was turning.
“O jarl,” said Biorn, “she is not clumsy, but her steersman went down. Let us gain what distance we may. That was a good blow, but we may not strike the next so easily.”
The older vikings looked watchfully, as did Biorn, and again they said: “Our jarl is young, but this was well done.”
“Westward!” shouted Ulric to Wulf. “We must lead them toward the land. I would I knew this coast.”
“That do I,” said Biorn, “if we are where I think. There are high cliffs, but there is also much marsh land; and off the coast there are great shallows, worse for a ship than any rocks might be. Watch for them.”
“They are our friends,” said Ulric, “but they are not friendly to a deep vessel like yonder trireme.”
“Aye,” said Biorn, “it is our old way of battling such as she is, but there is an evil among these shallows. Hast thou not heard of the sand that is alive? There is much of it hereaway.”
“My father warned me of it,” replied Ulric. “If horse or man setteth foot upon it, it will seize him and suck him down. But it could not swallow a ship.”
“Were she a mountain!” exclaimed Biorn. “The living sand would be worse than a Roman trireme for The Sword to escape from. Yonder is a land line at the sky’s edge, and I think I see breakers.”
The rowers were rowing well and The Sword had gained a long advantage before the Roman oarsmen had recovered from their confusion. Now, however, Ulric upon the foredeck was measuring distances, wave after wave, and he spoke out plainly to his men.
“Swift is The Sword,” he said. “I had thought that no keel on earth could be swifter, but we are laden heavily; so is the trireme, that she turneth not nimbly, but in a straight course she is swifter than are we. She hath many rowers and she is sharp in the prow. She gaineth upon us little by little.”
“Woe to her,” responded the vikings. “She moveth too fast for her good.”
“The land riseth fast,” said Biorn. “The breakers are not far away. Under them are sand shoals.”
“The Roman is but a hundred fathoms behind us,” replied Ulric. “Wulf the Skater, steer thou through the breakers. Let us see if she will dare to follow.”
Comus, the trierarch, was overeager, or he would have remembered that which he seemed to have forgotten. They who were with him were stung by the death of Lentulus and by the ravages of the Saxon spears and stones. None counseled him to prudence, and he dashed on in the foaming wake of The Sword.
“Breakers, but no rocks,” muttered Wulf, as he grasped his tiller strongly. “Now, if we fill not, we shall dash through. Pull! For the Northland pull!”
Hard strained the rowers. High sprang
the curling breakers on either hand. Loud rang the shouts and the war horns. But The Sword rose buoyantly over the crown of a great billow and passed on into smoother water.
“Odin!” roared Biorn the Berserker. “The trireme is but fifty paces—”
“Struck!” shouted Ulric. “On, lest we ourselves may be stranded!”
“Deep water here, Jarl Ulric,” calmly responded an old seaman near him. “We have passed the sand bar. It may be the tide is falling. The gods of the sea are against that Roman keel.”
“Or they are not with her to-day,” said Ulric. “She is held fast. Cease rowing and put the sail up again. We will see if there is aught else that we may do. I like not to let her escape me.”
Up went the sail, and for an hour The Sword did but cruise back and forth, only now and then venturing near enough for the hurling of a stone or the sending of an arrow. It was then too far for any harm to the Romans, but they could hear the taunting music of the horns.
“Low tide,” said Biorn at last, “and she lieth upon bare sand. We are well away. We can do no more.”
“Watch!” said Ulric. “They are troubled.”
“She lieth too deeply. What is this?” So asked the Roman seamen of their captain as they leaned over their bulwarks and studied that bed of sand. He answered not, but one, a legionary in full armor, stepped down from the ship to examine more closely—and an unwise man was he. In places the sandy level seemed firm enough, and a horse may gallop along a sandy beach after the tide is out and leave but a fair hoofprint. That way armies have marched and chariots have driven. There were other patches, however, whereon the sand seemed to glisten and to change in the sunlight, and here there was potent witchcraft working. At these had the sailors been gazing, but the soldier did not reach one of them.
“Back!” shouted Comus. “It is the living sand! We are all dead men! Back!”
The legionary strove to wheel at the word of command, but his feet obeyed him not. Even the vikings were near enough to see that the sand was over his ankles.
“The under gods have seized him,” muttered Ulric. “It is from them that the sand liveth. They are angry with him.
“Vale! Vale! Vale!“ shouted the legionary. “O Comus, I go down! They who dwell below have decreed this. See thou to the ship and follow not the Saxons.”
“Follow them?” exclaimed Comus. “Vale, O comrade! But the trireme lieth a handbreadth deeper. She is sinking! O all the gods! Have we come to this ending? Who shall deliver us?”
“None, O Comus,” said a man of dark countenance who leaned over the bulwark at his side. “We have offended the gods and they have left us to our fate.”
Lower sank the wooden walls of the great vessel, while her helpless crew and the soldiery stared despairingly at the pitiless sand and at the White Horse flag of the vikings dancing lightly over the sea so near them.
“Form!” commanded Comus, and the legionaries fell into ranks all over the vessel. “Put ye the body of Lentulus upon the deck,” he said, “and bring me the eagle of the legion. O Lentulus, true comrade, brave friend, we salute thee, for all we who were of thy company go down to meet thee. Behold, we perish!”
Silent sat the rowers at their oars. The standards fluttered in the wind. The trierarch took the eagle and went and stood by the body of Lentulus.
“They are brave men, yonder,” said Biorn the Berserker. “They will to die in line. So do the Romans conquer all others except the men of the North.”
“They have one trireme the less,” replied Tostig the Red. “But they have many more. This is not like burning one. I see no honor to us in this.”
“Honor to the gods,” said Ulric. “She was too strong for us and Odin destroyed her.”
“It is well to have him on our side,” said Tostig; but Knud the Bear laughed loudly, as was his wont, and said: “Odin is not a sea god. What hath he to do with sand and water? Some other god is hidden under the living sand. We shall leave him behind us when we go away——”
“Her bulwarks go under!” shouted one of the vikings. “Hark to the trumpets! They go down!”
The trumpet blast ceased and there was a great silence, for the like of this had never before been seen.
“Oars!” commanded Ulric. “We will search the coast. Such a warship as was this came not hitherward without an errand. She may have had companions.”
The old vikings all agreed with him, and an eager lookout was set, but behind them as they sailed away they saw nothing but a bare bed of sand, over which the tide was returning.
* * *
CHAPTER VIII. The Saxon Shore.
“O JARL!” EXCLAIMED KNUD the Bear, in a morning watch, “we have wasted days in this coasting. The weather hath been rough and the men are weary, for we are tightly packed in this ship.”
“No longer shouldst thou prevent us from seeking the shore,” said another. “I would hunt, and get me some fresh meat.” There were also voices of impatience and of discontent among the crew.
The jarl listened, and thoughtfully he responded: “I have not forgotten that the Romans sail in fleets. We are one keel. If now we have avoided any trireme that was company for the one which was swallowed by the sand, we have done well. We will steer toward the shore. My father told me of such a coast as this.”
“As the sun riseth higher,” said Biorn the Berserker, “I think I can see a low headland. This is not my first cruising in these seas.”
“It is well,” said the jarl. “We will go within the headland. If we find a good shore, we will land, for I am of one mind with you.”
All the older vikings approved of his prudence, for they knew the Romans better than did the younger warriors, full of eagerness. Even now the sailing of The Sword was with caution. The noon drew near and they were close to the headland. It was neither high nor rocky, and on it was a forest; but here was a surprise, for the trees growing down to the beach were in full leaf.
“The winter tarried late in the Northland,” said the vikings. “We have also been many days upon our way. The summer is near.”
They might also discern patches of green grass, and now Knud shouted from the fore deck: “A deep cove, O jarl! It is very deep.”
Ulric was at the helm, and he responded: “Thou hast good eyes, O Bear. Watch thou for rocks and shoals and give me word. Let all eyes watch also for boats or men.”
The rowers rowed easily and The Sword slipped on into the cove. Here was dense forest on either side, and there were rocks, but the trees were large and old and there seemed to be little undergrowth, nor was there any sign of the dwellings of men.
“The Britons,” said an old viking, “build not often on the shore. They are not seamen. They have no forts but wooden palisades, and they dwell inland, where they are more safe. They fight well, but they have little armor, and their steel is soft. They are no match for the legions of Rome.”
It was exceedingly still as The Sword went forward. Away at the left a herd of red deer came out under a vast oak and stared at the newcomers. At their head was a stag with branching antlers.
“Now know we,” said Biorn the Berserker, “that no men are near this place, for these creatures are exceedingly timid. But their venison is of the best. In Britain are also wild cattle in abundance, and wild swine. We will have great hunting before we sail to other places.”
Swiftly away sped the red deer, for the prow of The Sword touched the strand and Wulf the Skater sprang ashore, followed by a score of vikings.
“On, up the bank!” shouted the jarl. “Return and tell what thou seest. All to the shore and stand ready if he findeth an enemy.”
“A prudent jarl,” murmured Biorn the Berserker. “He will not be surprised.”
Nevertheless, the younger men laughed scornfully, for they liked not well the hard discipline of the jarl, and he brooked no manner of disobedience, as was his right.
Back came one from Wulf the Skater. “O jarl!” he shouted. “A fine spring of water. An open glade. Wulf asketh
if he shall now cut the saplings.”
“I come soon,” replied the jarl, “but cut stakes for a palisade leading down to this beach on either hand. Though there be no Romans here, there are Britons not far off.”
Axes were plying speedily, and while the first fires were kindling many sharp stakes were driven, to be woven between with flexible twigs and branches. Such was ever the custom of the Saxons upon a new land, for behind such a wattle-work defense a few warriors may withstand many, and light palisades guard well against horsemen. Not all could work in these matters, and twoscore were selected by lot for the first hunting, going out in four parties, with a command not to venture too far. They were bowmen, but they went in their armor. Before the sun set there was a good stockade from tree to tree around the spring, with arms that reached out on either hand almost to the shore.
“We will make it stronger,” said the jarl, “but behind it we are safe; for we might also retreat to the ship if there were need.”
No red deer save one stag and a doe did the hunters bring in, and there would have been a lack of meat but for the slaying by another party of four black cattle, fat and good.
“O jarl,” said the men. “Did we not tell thee? This is better than being packed so tightly in The Sword. This is good venison.”
Well contented was he also, and he saw that he must humor the men if he were to command them well thereafter. For this reason, therefore, other and larger hunting parties went out the next day, and they came home heavily laden.
“O jarl,” said Tostig the Red, for his party, “we have also found paths, but no men. We saw hills beyond, but a river is between us and them, and a great marsh. I think no Britons come hither across the marsh.”
“On the morrow I will go,” said Ulric. “I will leave Biorn in command of the camp. I have no need for hunting, but I must know the land.”
Barrels of ale had been brought to the shore, and that night was a feast, with songs and sagas. After the feast the jarl went and lay down to sleep under an oak, but his eyes would not close for thinking of the Northland, and of the Middle Sea, and of Asgard.
Ulric the Jarl Page 6