Orders had been given, moreover, and before the setting of the sun both keels were anchored some fathoms out from low-water mark, and only the small boats were at the beach. It was best, the jarl had said, to trust deep water rather than a stockade after the darkness should come. All the fires in the camp were heaped to burn long, and so were other large fires upon the strand. Then came all the vikings on board the ship, and there could be no present peril. It was a night of peace, but the watchers saw both dark forms and white ones by the light of the fires, and knew that the Britons had come.
“The white ones are the Druids,” said Wulf the Skater to his companions. “I am not afraid of their gods which have men roasted. I hope the jarl will find us a chance to spear priests before we sail away from this island.”
The rest agreed with him, asking him many questions concerning the sacrifices.
“But for the prudence of the jarl,” he also told them, “all we who went would have been taken at a disadvantage in the darkness of the forest. There would have been no fair fighting.”
“He is a good battle jarl,” they said, but it might be seen that among them were some who were not well pleased with his ways.
There, safe from all assailing, floated the two keels until the dawn. Then went some of the men ashore in the small boats, and the fires were replenished for cooking, but none were permitted to wander into the woods. On board the trireme there was much search going on and great was the delight of all over the plunder discovered. Rich indeed was the store of arms, as if it had been intended to refit a cohort or to arm new recruits.
“It is good, too,” they said, “to be able to walk around. There was hardly elbow-room on our own keel. But we knew that we must lose some and that there would be less crowding when we came home.”
“We can give a man to every oar of the trireme,” said Ulric, “and yet leave threescore to the spears.”
But he looked over the bulwark and down into the good ship The Sword, and his heart smote him sadly, for the very wood she was made of came from his own trees, and she seemed to look him in the face kindly.
Hours went by before there were any newcomers upon the shore, but Olaf said that there must be patience.
“Watch also,” he warned Ulric, “and let not any Briton come on board. We will meet them in the small boats at the strand.”
So it came to be, for at the noon the woods became alive with men. Foremost came the chief Druid, followed by some of lesser rank and by harpers. With them were chiefs of clans of the Britons, each one calling himself a king, but being really less than a Norse jarl in power, for he was as a slave to all Druids.
“These,” told Olaf, “make the laws and enforce them. They alone know the sagas of the Britons and what is to be given to the gods. They sometimes burn a king if he worketh not their will, and they have magic arts which make the people fear them. I would slay all such if I were a king.”
He and Ulric were in the same boat pulling to the strand; and the chief Druid was wise, for he came to meet them attended only by two other Druids and by seven of his harpers. Behind them under the trees clustered the British warriors. They formed no ranks, but they wore a fierce, warlike appearance. Among them were some in armor that was half Roman, as if taken in battle. More had Roman swords, but their own British blades were both short and light. All were armed with javelins, but their shields were of all sorts, only that most of them were made of wicker and hide.
“They are brave enough,” said Olaf, “but the Romans seek to prevent them from getting weapons. A Briton might become as good a soldier as a legionary, with arms and with training. Cæsar is always cunning in government.”
“Hael, O Druid!” shouted Ulric. “I am well pleased to see thee.”
“O thou, the jarl of the vikings,” sternly responded the chief Druid. “Too many came with thee. My permission was but to thee and to Olaf. Neither didst thou do reverence to my gods.”
“O priest,” said the jarl, “I came and I returned as I would. I like not thy gods. What is thy errand with me this day?”
The face of Ulric had flushed hotly upon hearing the haughty speech of the Druid, for he was not one to be lightly chidden by any man.
“O jarl,” said the Druid yet more sternly, “I have this also against thee, that thou didst promise me a treasure the like of which I never saw before, and thou didst not deliver it. Where is thy great gift?”
“O Knud the Bear,” shouted Ulric, “row now to the shore and bring to this priest the token of the son of Odin.”
The second of the small boats came to the shore and Knud and eight other of the tallest vikings, ax in hand, bore out and spread upon the earth the tremendous hide of the white bear, the king of bears. From the skull, also, they had reft its whole cover, putting in eyes of bright leather. The hide seemed to be longer and broader than in life, as if it lay two fathoms from tail to nose.
“O jarl of the Saxons,” exclaimed the Druid, “what is this? I have heard of these creatures, but never have I seen one.”
“Then have I kept my promise,” said Ulric. “Thou mayest hang it in thy house or in the house of thy gods, as thou wilt, but never was the like of it in Britain. He was a son of the ice king. He came from the long darkness, and I slew him with my own hand.”
Around the jarl stood now a score of vikings; terrible men for a foe to look upon, for they were throwers of sudden spears. Still stood the chief Druid and his fellows and the harpers, gazing at the great skin, and the Britons in the edge of the wood shouted loudly.
“I agree with thee as to this,” said the high priest, reluctantly. “I accept thy token, for in it is a meaning that thou knowest not. There is an old prophecy concerning the Northern Bear and Britain. Thou hast done well. My quarrel is now with Olaf, who standeth by thee.”
“But for him thou wouldst have slain me and mine in thy forest trap on the hill, at the sacrifices,” answered the jarl, angrily. “Thy quarrel is also with me!”
Then came the rush of the Britons from the woods, hurling javelins as they came, but the vikings were instantly in their boats, and the high priest and all who were with him lay upon the sand, so suddenly were they smitten. From the ships came showers of spears, arrows, stones, and the men in the small boats seemed to be unharmed, for their shields were up.
“Thou sittest very still,” said Ulric to Olaf. “What sayest thou? Mine eyes were upon these blue ones.”
“O jarl,” said Knud the Bear, “we lifted him in, thinking there might still be life in him, but there is none. The spear of the high priest was strongly driven.”
“Hael to thee, O hero!” shouted the jarl. “Olaf, the son of Hakon, hath gone to Valhalla! He hath died in his armor! Row to the ships. We will go hence and the body of Olaf we will bury in the sea. There shall be no lamenting for the son of Hakon.”
Only this harm had befallen the Saxons from the treachery of the Druids, while the slain lying upon the beach were many. Loudly now arose the wailing of the Britons, for they had a strange death cry of their own, long and vibrating, that went far out across the sea.
“Their gods will be against us,” said Wulf the Skater. “We may not now linger long in Britain.”
“Very soon,” said the jarl, “we will sail for the Middle Sea, but not with two keels. We are too few.”
The Sword and the trireme, nevertheless, were now going out to sea with all oars, as if to show how many men were needed for this. The jarl was at the helm of the trireme and his face was clouded.
“Not yet,” he said, “have I smitten the Romans upon the land of Britain. That must I do, and I know not how or where. The days go by and it will be winter before we reach the Middle Sea. The voyage is long.”
* * *
CHAPTER XI. The Passing of Lars the Old.
SUDDEN IS THE CHANGE from winter to summer in the Northland. The buds of the trees get ready under the frost and open to the sunshine as soon as a few days of warmth have told them that they may safely burst forth
. No full leaves were as yet, but the grass was greening and the fisher boats were busy in the fiords.
In the hall of the house of Brander there were fewer to gather now, in the lengthening evenings, around the central fire, but Oswald’s harp was always there. Hilda, from her chair, would often ask him to strike up, but there was a lack of spirit in his minstrelsy, and even when she spoke to him her voice was weaker and softer than of old. The wrinkles upon her face were deepening, and they who looked long at her said to one another that a light which did not come from the fire played now and then across her forehead and around her mouth. At other times she was shut up much in her own room, and it was said that she pored long and thoughtfully over polished sheepskins and fragments of gray stone whereon were graven runes that none else might read. Some of these, they said, had been brought by Odin’s men when they journeyed from the East into the Northland. Who knew, therefore, but what the runes had been written in the city of Asgard by the hands of the Asas? It was not well to question over-closely about such things. They said naught to her of the matters which were her own, and only once did a little maiden yield to her own curiosity and follow the old saga woman when at night she walked out along the path which led to the stones of the mighty dead. Afterward she told her mother, and then all the village knew, that Hilda did but sit down by the tomb of Brander, weeping loudly and talking with him concerning his absent son.
“It is no wonder,” said the villagers, “for she loved Ulric the Jarl. It is good for all our men that Hilda should speak to the gods concerning their welfare. She knoweth them better than we do, and she is to go to them soon. She getteth ready daily.”
So fared it in the Northland, but many ships were putting to sea, and there was even jealousy here and there that Ulric and The Sword should have gotten away so much in advance of all others. But the ships of the vikings would now be so many as to bode ill for the fleets of Rome and for the merchantmen of the Middle Sea unless Cæsar should send force enough to prevent their coming.
“Olaf told me,” said Ulric, talking to Tostig of such matters, “that the Romans fear the coming of the Saxons. Therefore against our villages as well as against the rebellious Druids came these triremes at this time. Cæsar’s power in Britain groweth. Around his fortified camps are cities springing up, and he fortifieth also ancient towns. We must come with many keels and a great host when we take this island away from Cæsar.”
“But I think we will destroy the Britons,” said Tostig the Red, “for we have seen that we may not trust them. I like a place where there is so much good hunting.”
Ulric had been scanning the shore line, for he was steering, and now he said:
“We will anchor for the night within yonder rocky point. There is a ledge there for which I have been seeking.”
All day had the two ships been coasting slowly, and the men had wondered much what it might be that was in the mind of their jarl, for he was moody. He had also asked many questions of the older vikings. The two ships came to anchor not many fathoms out from the rocky point, but all men were forbidden venturing to the shore.
“It is not well,” said Ulric to some who would have landed in the small boats. “If ye but look closely, ye will discern the glimmer of fires in the deep forest. Our movement this day hath been followed, and now a small party might meet too many of their spearmen. They are good fighters.”
There was much grumbling among the younger men, for they despised this prudence of his which ever held them in and thwarted their hot wills, but they had no choice but to obey him concerning the boats.
More and more plainly through the night darkness might the watchers on the decks discern the fires that were kindled in the woods. The jarl gazed at them long, thinking many things concerning the Druids and the other Saxon villages of the shore of Britain. He slept after a while to the slow rocking of the ship, and when morn came Wulf the Skater stood by him.
“O jarl,” he said, “the Britons build fires along the beach. They swim out to us. I have speared four of their swimmers. What do we next?”
Ulric arose and gave orders. Immediately a transfer began from The Sword to the trireme of all arms and provisions, and the men worked rapidly. Only that Wulf worked not, and that an old viking came and stood by him at the bulwark.
“I like it not,” said Wulf, “but Ulric is jarl. What sayest thou, Lars the Old, the shipmaker?”
“Thou art a seaman,” said Lars. “I am of thy mind. I toiled much in the shaping and the making of The Sword. My heart is heavy.”
“So is mine!” exclaimed Wulf. “First of all men, after the jarl, did I take her helm. She is Odin’s keel. There is bad fortune in leaving her.”
“That do I fear,” said Lars, “but I leave her not. I was sore smitten in the ribs in the fight with the Druids on the beach. I bleed well now. I shall not sail in this trireme.”
“Good is thy fate,” said Wulf. “Didst thou tell the jarl thou wert wounded?”
“Not so,” replied Lars. “None know but a few of our old vikings. I thought not much of it at first, for I have oft been wounded. But now they will soon burn The Sword. I command thee that thou lay me upon the fore deck, where was once the hammer of Thor. That is my death place.”
“That will I do,” said Wulf. “So will say the jarl.”
“So do I now say!” came to them in his own voice, for he also was leaning over the rail and he had heard. “O Lars, I knew not of thy hurt, thinking only of Olaf, the son of Hakon. Him have we buried in the sea this day, and thou shalt have thy will. The Sword is nearly emptied. We burn her on yonder rocks at the point as the tide falleth. We will lay thee upon her fore deck with thy arms and armor.”
“Do thou thy duty by me,” said Lars, “that it may be well with thee. But leave not The Sword until every timber shall be burned, lest some part of her shall fall into an enemy’s hand.”
“She is ready!” exclaimed Ulric. “We will lift the anchors and move both ships. There will be many to see the burning.”
Trumpetings and harpings and angry shouts were answering from a throng of Britons gathering along the shore. Not any of them could guess as yet what would be the next move of the Saxons, but great was their wrath that they were able to do no harm.
“They would we might find reason for landing,” said Ulric to Wulf, “but I care not to strike them at this place. We would gain nothing.”
“O jarl,” said Wulf, “Lars, the shipmaker, lieth down. The valkyrias are with him.”
“He dieth not a cow’s death,” said Ulric, “but as a true warrior of the North. It is as he would will, but he still is breathing.”
“Yea, but heavily,” said Wulf. “I would I were as he is, that I might not leave The Sword.”
“O Wulf,” said the jarl, “thou hast many a feast of swords before thee. Cheer thee up.”
“Jarl Ulric,” said Wulf, “do I not know thee? Thou too lovest thy first keel. But I think thou doest wisely. The men have demanded this, and they may not be gainsaid. But I would there had been men enough for both ships, and then I would not have left mine own.”
On moved the two keels toward the ledge of rocks, and the tide was falling. They would be bare before long.
“Row, now!” shouted the jarl. “Send The Sword far up upon the ledge. She must be lifted by the rocks till she is out of the water. There come the Britons toward the point. Be ready to strike them! The Druids have gathered an army!”
No sail was raised upon either of the ships, but the rowers of the trireme paused while those of The Sword pulled strongly. She was light now, having no stowage or ballast, and quickly her prow was thrust high up the ledge between two masses of dark gray stone. Then the trireme was grappled at her stern and many Saxons sprang out upon the ledge. There were several fathoms of water between this and the shore.
“Fast falleth the tide,” said Ulric. “Lift ye now Lars the Old, the shipmaker, and bear him to the fore deck of The Sword. Lay by him his arms and his armor, breaking the s
word and the spear and cleaving the shield and mail that no other may ever bear them.”
The vikings carried the old warrior quickly, and he uttered no sound. They laid him upon the fore deck and did as Ulric commanded, but the hilt of the broken sword, having yet half the length of its bright blade, they put into his right hand. In the middle of the ship much wood was placed, heaping it, and in this heap a blazing torch was thrust. Then all the vikings left The Sword, and the greater part of her was already out of water.
“They come in swarms!” exclaimed Tostig the Red, gazing at the Britons who rushed along the shore toward the point. “Hael! the fire burneth well! They must not prevent it!”
Up leaped the long-armed flames, catching the fagots of pine splinters.
“Burn thou, O Sword!” shouted the jarl. “I give thee to Odin in the fire! Thou art mine own, O good ship from the Northland. I would I might have sailed in thee to the Middle Sea and to the city of the gods!”
“O jarl,” said Wulf the Skater, “even so would I have sailed. I think we shall never see that city. The gods are far away, and I know not if they have any city. I am dark this day, and over me is a cloud.”
The jarl spoke not again, but he looked earnestly at The Sword and at that which was threatening along the shore. Still as a stone lay Lars the Old, and some men thought him dead. There were Druids now at the point, and with them were harpers and trumpeters, and the white-robed ones were chanting to their gods.
The chanting ceased and a Druid raised his sacred wand, shouting fiercely. At that word hundreds of armed Britons began to rush into the sea.
“They are too many,” said Knud the Bear. “They do but drown each other. These Druids are not good captains. Therefore are they beaten by the Romans in spite of their gods and their sacrifices.”
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