Ulric the Jarl

by William Stoddard

  “Not if thou go to its port in a keel thou hast won from Cæsar,” said Sigurd. “That were but to offer them thy head. Thou wilt do better among the islands and toward the great land that is called Africa. There dwell the black men, and in the inland there are giants wonderful to see; and also there are powerful magicians.”

  “I care not much for them,” said Ulric, “although I am curious about giants. Tell me all thou wilt of thy voyages.”

  Willingly did Sigurd tell, and he had seen many wonderful things in the southlands.

  “I shall gladly see them again,” he said; and even the next day did this talk go on, for a gale blew and The Sword went before it with but one small sail lifted.

  Sigurd’s men were now as if they had been with Ulric from the first, and by them a matter had been told which was now more fully given by the tall viking.

  “Svein concealed it from me,” he said, “but an old Dane warned me in private. The Roman officer of that garrison was but waiting for the arrival of more legionaries, for Svein’s men might not be depended on in such an undertaking. It would have included thee and thine. All who did not belong to Svein or who were minded to leave him were to have been given up as war prisoners to the Romans.”

  “That they might lose their heads!” exclaimed Ulric. “I am glad he is slain! It was a dark purpose.”

  “Thou hast not read it rightly, nevertheless,” said Sigurd. “Hast thou not heard of the great games and shows of Cæsar and of his chief officers?”

  “Many a thing have I heard,” replied Ulric, “but not from any man who had ever witnessed the things he told of. Hast thou seen?”

  “No, Jarl Ulric,” said Sigurd, “but I have listened to brave men who have looked in upon such things. As to one affair, we learned little by little that the proconsul of Britain desired good swordsmen to contend with his trained slaves and with his wild beasts. It was also for his profit to send Saxons as presents to Cæsar to be slain in the great shows of Rome. For this purpose all we were to be entrapped and caged as soon as their hunting party should become strong enough to take us alive. We were to be set upon unawares. Therefore did we sleep by watches, fully armed, for the thing was to be done in the night. So was the idea of Svein, the treacherous, concerning all thy crew.”

  “He will entrap no more Saxons henceforth,” said the jarl. “As for me, I would gladly fight a lion or a tiger. It would be great sport. I will try if I may meet these wonderful beasts before I return to the Northland.

  “Thou wilt meet thy lion with full armor,” responded Sigurd, “but it is not so in these games of the Romans. There is no fair fighting. They arm thee as they see fit. Often thou art not matched with one man or with one beast, but with odds, that they may see thee overcome or torn. This is their delight concerning prisoners and malefactors which cost them little. They spare their dens of animals and their purchased gladiators that they may more cheaply see much blood. But there is worse than this among them, for they use the scourge upon us, and a man would rather die ten times than be made to feel the stroke of a whip, as if he were a slave.”

  “If I were indeed lashed,” growled Ulric, “it were well for that man, even were he Cæsar, not to come near me in after time if there were a blade within my reach. There might come a sure cast of a spear, and I throw far.”

  “This scourging,” said Sigurd, “is to break the proud spirit of such as thou art. I think thine or mine would not be so destroyed, but rather a red fire kindled in ashes that would smolder for a time. But they know us well, these Romans. A captive Saxon is chained as an untameable wild beast until they push him out of his cage into the arena.”

  “So slay we all Romans!” exclaimed the jarl. “We will count them but wolves. But I will see many other cities if I may not go to Rome. The wind changeth and I think a storm is upon us.”

  Soon fiercely howled around them an angry north wind, tossing the sea in great surges, but the trireme proved herself stanch and well behaved. She held on her way swiftly. Often saw they the land, but after one night more Sigurd called Ulric to a bulwark, at the dawn, and he pointed first westerly.

  “Seest thou,” he said, “yonder high white cliffs? We are in the narrow sea between Britain and Gaul. We have been driven about too much and we have expended days. Now we may drive southward and we may not meet other keels often. The Britons of Gaul are like those of the islands. They are not sea-goers, and they are all under the rule of Cæsar.”

  “We have no need to strike them,” said the jarl. “They are not our errand. We will but sail on as we have planned. Thou hast taught me many things. I thank thee.”

  The day went by and The Sword drew near the land at times, but it was better to keep well away from an unknown coast. All the crew were pleased to discover how swiftly they might travel and how readily they might turn so large a vessel.

  “She will do well in battle,” they said.

  As to the three banks of oars, the jarl angered some by his urgency in compelling all to practice their use, that they might become well skilled.

  “He is a hard master of a ship,” said some. “Do we not know what to do with oars?” The older men were better satisfied, and they also studied the handling of a trireme.

  The next day The Sword was not far out from the westerly shore of Gaul and a thing came to Ulric the Jarl as he stood upon the after deck steering and watching the land. He was thinking deeply, also, concerning the gods, and he was remembering those persons whom he had left behind him in the Northland which was now so far away.

  “What is this?” arose a sudden inquiry in his mind. “I am not alone! I think that one sitteth by me. I have felt the touch of her hand upon my hair, stroking it. There hath been no voice, but the hand is the hand of a woman and I know it well of old. I will wait and see if she will speak to me. I have hungered for speech with some whom I may not see. I think that of the unseen ones there must be a great multitude and that their land must be wide, but no man knoweth what it may be like. In it is the city of Asgard. There is Valhalla, and there dwell the heroes from innumerable battles. I shall not ever be fully contented until I hear the valkyrias call my name. But first I would have speech with one of these strange gods of the southlands. The Grecians have many, and so have the Romans. I have willed, also, to look upon the face of the god of the Jews, for he is said to be a strong one and very beautiful. O thou that touchest, I pray thee touch me again.”

  The wind went softly by him and there came a low whisper in his ear so that he heard it thus, as if it had been a voice:

  “Son of Odin, I have passed. Have passed.”

  More heard he not, nor did he see any, but at that hour there was a great silence in the house of Brander in the Northland.

  In her chair sat Hilda, as she was wont, but she was very white, and her eyes were shut. Around her stood the household, save that Oswald, the harper, sat with his head bowed upon his harp. Not many men were there, and the women and the maidens did but look at one another and at Hilda, for they knew not whether she were living or dead, and they feared to put hands upon her.

  Then opened she her eyes and her lips parted.

  “I have seen him,” she said, “but the ship is not The Sword. I have been as if I were asleep, but it was no dream. Where my heart is there was I, and I will go to him again. Now, when I sleep again, put ye my veil over my face. Let me not fall from my chair, but place me upon my bier and make ready to carry me to the cleft of the rocks. If it may be, I will speak once more before I go.”

  So went she to sleep and they covered her face, but now the women wailed loudly and all the men of the household were sent for to come to the hall.

  “Hilda of the hundred winters hath seen the last outing of the ice,” the women said, “and now the grass and the leaves have come. She goeth down to her own and she will see the gods.”

  A litter was made and they bore her to her room, for she had given the older women instructions and they knew what to do in such a case. The househol
d men came, but they did not stay in the house, for Oswald spoke to them and they went out with him to the place of tombs.

  The low hill on which were the standing stones had a face of broken rock seaward. In the middle of this face leaned a tall, flat stone, a slab of limestone, which had been worked to smoothness on its outer side. Upon this surface were many runes graven, in lines and columns, and some of them were like small pictures, and more were like letters of words that were to be read. The stone was exceedingly heavy, and strong men worked with wooden levers to lay it aside without injuring it. When that was done there could be seen a chasm, as if the rock had been cloven to make an entrance for any who would go in. At this the men looked, but as yet they kept their feet away from it.

  All over the Northland there are such tombs as was this of the house of Brander the Brave, the sea king, and in them are the bones of the mighty. But in some, as in this, are not buried the heroes after whose names the tombs are called, for they fell upon far-away battlefields or in fights at sea, but at their tombs were made sacrifices to the gods, nevertheless, and the songs to the dead are to be sung there by their kindred. If any man have a hero son, to this place must he come to speak to his father and to the Asas, or he will be accounted nidering and unfit to be a jarl and a leader of men.

  Low had sunk the sun when a procession walked slowly away from the house of Brander. The men of best rank and name were proud to be permitted to bear the bier of Hilda, as if she had been a princess; for she was of the race of Odin and she had talked with the gods for a hundred years. Therefore, also, every man wore his full armor; but of the women there were some who carried goblets and pitchers which had been Hilda’s, of pottery and of bronze and of silver and of beaten gold. Others there were who carried her best garments, rending them as they came.

  “She is not to be burned,” said Oswald. “She is to be laid in the inner crypt, with her feet toward the east. Her coffin is of wood, and it was in her room, but I have brought it. Let her be placed therein.”

  It was a long box made of planks of the fir tree, and it was large enough. In it did they lay the body of Hilda, taking it from the bier. Then the strong men bore it into the cleft of the rocks, but not many were permitted to follow and see. Three fathoms deep was the cleft, and then it widened, making a small room, and this could be seen well, for some of the men bore torches. There were other coffins, and there were bones and skulls uncovered at the sides and in the corners. There were stones also, set up in the form of coffins, and in them were bones and many good weapons, as if to each man had been given shield, ax, sword, spear, helmet, and mail, and vessels of pottery and of metal, with good garments. But the arms and armor were for the greater part marred, bent, broken, and the garments were rent.

  “Speak not,” said Oswald, “but put down the coffin of Hilda here. The runes on the rock beside it were graven by herself for the memory of Brander the Brave, for she loved him well.”

  In the coffin were some things placed. Upon it was laid a plank of fir. On this, then, and on the earth at the head were arranged all other matters brought by the women. Every man walked out then except Oswald, and he stood still and spoke to Hilda, but she answered him not. Again he spoke, calling her by name, and those without, in the cleft and beyond it, heard him, and they listened well, but they heard no other voice than his.

  “Hilda!” he said again. “Hilda of the hundred winters, daughter of Odin, what sayest thou to Oswald, thy friend?”

  They heard no answer, but Oswald came forth and bade them place the stone.

  “Set it well,” he said, “for it will not be moved again. The house of Brander is ended. There will be no other who will have the right to be buried behind the stone.”

  None answered him, but the women whispered sadly to one another: “What of Ulric the Jarl?”

  The men followed Oswald to the house, for a feast had been prepared in honor of the daughter of Odin, and the tables were set. Other harpers had come, with chiefs and men of rank, but no other harp might sound until after that of Oswald.

  The central fire had gone out, but he had bidden them leave the ash heap. It was high and gray, and he sat down by it, bringing his harp nearer. All who were there had heard him often, but never before, they said, had they heard him touch his harp as he did now. The music was wonderful, and with it arose his voice in marvelous power, for he sang of heroes, and of gods, and of the unseen lands where the gods live. Also, before he ceased, he sang of Ulric the Jarl and of the ship The Sword, as if even now he could see her going into battle and hear the warhorn of the son of Brander.

  So was the passing of Hilda of the hundred years.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XIV. The Jew and the Greek.

  “O JARL,” SAID SIGURD, the son of Thorolf, “many days have passed since we entered this sea. Thou hast pleased thy crew by landings at harbors. They have also smitten quiet people against thy will, and uselessly. They are hard to govern.”

  “The thirst of blood cometh upon them,” said the jarl. “I would not slay any without good need. What knowest thou of this place where we are?”

  “It is the gate of the world, O jarl,” said Sigurd. “We have passed all Spain and much too long time have we been in our voyaging. This great cliff upon the Spanish shore is the rock I named to thee at the beginning. Southward, across this narrow strait, is Africa. The Romans name this rock the Pillars of Hercules. He is of their old heroes, a strong one, a half god. Not as Thor or Odin. He is of the giants.”

  Many more things said Sigurd, and the vikings thronged around to hear. Of the older men, also, were many who knew this place and who had words to speak. The younger men were exultant and their speech was boisterous; but the face of the jarl grew harder as he heard them, for they had offended him often by their deeds in Gaul and on the coast of Spain, and by their cruelties to peaceable merchant sailors whose keels The Sword had overtaken. “I am made a pirate against my will,” he had said of these things. “The greatest of the sea kings are not so, for they have many friends and tributaries among the peoples and islands of the Middle Sea.” Nevertheless, he now spoke loudly to all.

  “Beyond this cape,” he said, “is the Middle Sea, which was from the first the destination of our voyage. Glad am I to have come so far out into the world. From this place onward we are as men who sail into a battle. So will every man bind himself to his obedience, lest his neck shall feel a seax.”

  This was the law of the Northmen upon the sea, and none might complain; but the jarl’s hand was upon his sword hilt, and some of the men turned to look at each other for a moment.

  Very smooth was the water, for there was no wind. The air was soft and warm. Only one bank of the oars propelled The Sword. She was now in no haste, and all who were on board of her felt their hearts beat with rejoicing. To most of them this was their first long war cruise, and all things were new, so that they watched eagerly for that which might be next to come.

  “O jarl,” said Tostig the Red, “beyond all doubt we shall soon see triremes of the Romans. Will they not at once inquire concerning us? Wilt thou avoid such a keel or wilt thou hasten into a battle?”

  “I have considered well,” said the jarl. “Of a merchantman we may exact tribute, but we need not always destroy. It is not the way of sea kings. Prisoners we take not any. A warship of Cæsar we must strike in her middle, without warning, that she may go down speedily and that too wide a report of our coming may not be given to those who would pursue us with a fleet. I know not, after such delays, that we are the first of the vikings this year in the Middle Sea.”

  “O jarl,” said Knud the Bear, “care not for that overmuch. We will but go the farther into the sea. I am with thee in thy saying that we must sail to the eastern shore of all these waters.”

  The jarl lifted his war horn and blew long and loudly and his face grew brighter.

  “To Asgard!” he shouted. “To the city of the gods! And we will smite the Romans.”

  Shield clash
ed on shield. Horn after horn was blown. The vikings shouted joyously and Sigurd the son of Thorolf lifted his great voice in a song of war.

  “Easterly!” commanded Ulric to him who was steering The Sword. “The gods of the Northland are with us and our voyage hath been well prospered.”

  On floated the good ship, but she seemed to be sailing over a sea of peace, so quiet and so beautiful were both sky and water. An hour went by, and now Ulric, sitting on the fore deck, sprang suddenly to his feet, for there came a shout down from Wulf the Skater above the sail upon the foremast:

  “O jarl! A sail! Eastward. And no other sail is with her.”

  “She is our prize!” shouted the jarl. “We may not fail of taking the first keel that we meet, whatever she may be. A man to every oar! But let those who hold the spears put on Roman helmets speedily. Open the sheaves of arrows. Bring out spears in abundance.”

  Other commands he gave, and there was no discontented man on board; none who was not willing to do the bidding of his jarl in battle. Then were they glad to be led by a son of Odin; and a hard ruler in a quiet time may be the captain men seek after if an enemy is nearing.

  The jarl bade the rowers to row, but steadily, not wasting their strength, while the Roman helmets were brought out from the stores of The Sword, and the vikings laughed merrily at each other in this strange disguising.

  Very soon they were near enough to learn the kind and the action of this keel which they were to contend with. She was not now attempting to either come or go, but she was drifting along over the calm water with her sails flapping lazily against her mast. The vikings might see, however, that her decks were full of armed men, and that she was a larger vessel than had ever been seen in the seas of the North. Vast was her length and breadth, and she carried five banks of oars instead of three, for this was one of the new quinqueremes which Cæsar had builded for the conveyance of his legions. She was planned, therefore, more for carrying than for speed, although her weight and force might be terrible to crash against another vessel. She was high above the water, like a tower that would be difficult to scale. She had two masts, and on these were bulwarked platforms for archers and slingers. She was as much more than a match for Ulric’s keel as had this been for The Sword, the first, the low-built ship with which he had sailed from the Northland behind the outing ice, only that the quinquereme was less readily to be turned about.