Ulric the Jarl

by William Stoddard

  “He is but a Greek,” said the son of Leiknar; but the lion sprang again and he sprang far, with a short roar which was fierce and guttural, taking Svip for his enemy. Brave was the son of Leiknar, but he knew not aught of lions. Upon him fell the mighty beast, beating down the spear with a forepaw. Sharp were the long claws and swift and terrible was the tearing. The shield was no defense and the mail was rent as if it had been leather. Torn into fragments was the strong viking ere he might draw his seax, but the bow of Lysias twanged again and his arrow sped well.

  “The lion hath no mark but his,” said Sigurd, the son of Thorolf. “Back! This is his battle. Let him win it or perish!”

  This was a moment when men look, but do not breathe, for the lion turned upon Lysias and the youth faced him boldly, drawing his long arrow to the head.

  “Well shot!” shouted Tostig. “O Greek, thou art a good bowman, but he hath thee!”

  The lion had gathered his strength to spring, but the shaft had gone in too far. The roar choked in his throat. His limbs refused to cast him. He rolled over, snarling, and pawing at the pavement.

  “I would thou wert a Roman!” said Lysias. “But such as thou art have torn my kindred in the arena.”

  “Slain!” shouted Sigurd. “Thou hast done well, O Greek!”

  “Svip, the son of Leiknar, erred to his death,” said the jarl. “The fault was his own. But this lion was first smitten upon the stone of sacrifice. What sayest thou, O Jew; is there in this any offense to the god of this place?”

  “There is no god,” responded Ben Ezra. “Here are but idols, and upon their altars couch the beasts of the field. We may go forward. Who needeth to fear gods of stone, which are the work of men’s hands and which neither walk nor speak?”

  “The lions have no god,” said Lysias.

  “I would not fear him greatly if they had,” said an old viking, “but if he were a man, with a sword in his hand, then I would know what to do with him.”

  Some of the Saxons then declared that they knew what to do with the skin of such a lion, and they remained to take it off rather than go any nearer to the stone god behind the place of sacrifice. Grand and huge was he, the idol of this broken temple of old time. He was the head of a man upon the body of a beast, carved out of more stones than one, and he crouched there, looking at them with a stern and terrible expression.

  “I think,” said Ben Ezra, “that he is one of the forgotten gods of the Sidonians. They will not set him up in Egypt, but he was like Jupiter.”

  “There is no hammer,” said Sigurd. “It is not Thor. See the jarl!”

  They had paused, looking, but the son of Brander the Brave had walked curiously to the side of the god and was studying his marks, for there were many.

  “I would,” he muttered, “that Hilda were here, for I think she would read. These are like the runes upon the old Odin stone beyond the fiord, and they were made when he came from the East. I think this to be one of the Asas; but how came He to make this temple and place it here? The gods do strangely at times.”

  By him now stood Lysias, and he said: “O jarl of the Saxons, linger not. The Jew hath found a stone which must be lifted. He waiteth for thee.”

  No message had Ben Ezra sent, but he was stooping over a flat slab in the place of sacrifice. Upon it there were marks of fire and the stone was crumbling.

  “Why lift it?” asked Ulric, drawing nearer. “What have we to do with the secrets of the gods? Why should we anger them?”

  “They are dead,” said Ben Ezra, “but I think this to be a door of the priests. It is but a broken stone. Give me thy spear.”

  “Nay,” said Ulric, “I can pry with a spear shaft. We will have it up if anything may be hidden here for us.”

  The fire-broken limestone yielded in several pieces to the prying of the tough spear shafts. As its pieces were lifted, or as they fell away, behold stone steps, from which all shrank back save the Jew and the son of Odin and the Greek. Even Sigurd held back a moment, saying:

  “I like it not. It is the jarl’s place. Let him venture first. He knoweth runes that we know not. So doth the Jew, but the Greek is a young fool.”

  Dangerous indeed it was for any man to step into a chamber under the altar of a strange god, but when they went down and entered it and looked around there was but little to see.

  “A store of broken weapons and rust-eaten armor,” said Ulric. “Some of the hilts and shields are good enough. But there are many skulls and bones.”

  “A crown!” shouted Ben Ezra, with a round thing in his hand glittering. “Here placed they the ashes of kings from the altar. I know not why they should have buried with one the diadem of his realm. It may be that his dynasty was ended. Many of these stones are rare and precious. Here is gold, also, but the silver is of no great value. Let us bear all to the ship, for the spoil of this sacred tomb of the kings would buy a Roman province.”

  The vikings in the outer air were summoned, and now they were not unwilling to venture, for the fear of the place had departed when they heard again the voice of the jarl. Neither did they care overmuch to find merely the remains of the dead, and they were greatly pleased with the treasures.

  Ben Ezra bore away one shield which was heavy with gold, and in the middle of it was a jewel so like a great red eye that the vikings said it was looking at them revengefully, and they would not touch it.

  “This place the Romans missed in their search,” said Ulric. “Little reverence have they for the altars of unknown gods.”

  Even heavy were the burdens carried to the ship, and now all who had been left to guard her were entitled to take their turn in the exploration of the city. They went and they came, but they found nothing to bring with them and they slew no wild beasts. They reported, however, that they had seen a leopard and a number of hideous beasts which Ben Ezra told them were hyenas, which delighted to feast upon the dead of battlefields. Successful fishing had been done in the harbor with the small boats, and there was enough for all, but that night there was much murmuring over the lack of fresh meat.

  “Besides,” said some of the men, “this strange treasure hath its value, but there hath been no good fighting. When will this jarl of ours lead us to a throwing of spears? The months of the summer are already wasted.”

  To these an answer was given by Sigurd, the son of Thorolf, that to them was the fault, for by reason of their unruliness had there been needless landings and delays on the coasts of Gaul and of Spain, and idle cruising after fishing boats and empty merchantmen which fought not and paid but little.

  “And the jarl forbade us to slaughter their crews,” said one. “I would have slain all.”

  Men who will to find fault may readily prepare a cause. Thus far the voyage of The Sword had been even too prosperous, being guided by prudence, and there was lacking the curbing which cometh from wholesome disaster. The weather was all too warm for Northmen, and some few of them had sickened, and of this sickness had four vikings died a cow’s death but for the mark of a spear which was given them by the hands of friends. Now, also, the skin of the lion aroused jealousy against the Greek. It was declared that an hour must be found for him to feel an edge of a seax, for he was not a Saxon and there should be no outland men like him and Ben Ezra upon a ship from the Northland. The jarl was too hard in some matters and he was too soft in others. Nevertheless, days went by while all looked at these temples and houses and the mighty fortifications. As for the jarl, he explored somewhat, but he abode mostly with the ship. He was silent and moody, for there were many things upon his mind.

  “I have come far out into the world,” he thought. “I have seen that which is exceedingly marvelous. I have looked, also, upon the face of a dead god. Now I will go on until I may have speech with one that is living.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER XVII. The Murmuring of the Men.

  OUT OF THE AFRICAN harbor sailed The Sword with a good wind, and there was no present need for rowing. No longer were the Saxons wil
ling to linger in that place and live upon fishes. Small pleasure was to be had there, they said, save to lie at night and listen to the cries of many wild beasts. They had not hunted at night save that one of the youths of Sigurd’s party had ventured beyond the jetty foolishly and had not returned. Blood had been found in the morning, but not any of his bones. It had been better if the weather had been rough or if the men had been at the oars, for in their idleness upon this blue and peaceful sea was an occasion for discontent.

  “The jarl must do better than this!” they said to each other, and as they talked of battles the thirst for blood increased among them, for it is as a wild fever when it cometh.

  “O jarl,” said Sigurd, the son of Thorolf, not long after The Sword passed beyond the ledge whereupon so many had been wrecked by reason of the revenge fire of Annibaal, “I think we do well if we steer now eastward. We shall find too many Roman triremes in this neighborhood.”

  “I would seek them,” said Ulric, “if not too many of them were together. Dost thou know of a shore or an island where there are cattle?”

  “Verily I do,” said Ben Ezra, “but I know not if we may find it easily. We may but sail on. Lysias is with the steersman now, and he is pointing.”

  Vebba, the son of Uric, was at the helm, and he hated the Greek, but he listened, for he could not despise a good bowman.

  “I would carve the blood eagle on thy back,” he said, laughing, “but if thou wilt guide to where we may slay somebody, thou art better worth killing. I hate thee.”

  “So do I hate thee,” said Lysias, boldly, “but we may not fight on the ship. I will give thee thy sword play when we get to a good place. But I shall strike thy head from thy shoulders.”

  “Good!” said Vebba. “I like thee better. But bring us first to some good fighting.”

  Then went Lysias to Ulric and the Jew, and they conferred somewhat, but Lysias passed from them to the after cabin, and came out bearing something that he took with him to the after deck.

  “I saw it there,” said Ulric. “It is a harp, not half so large as that of Oswald’s. What can the Greek do with it?”

  “Wait and see,” replied Ben Ezra. “Among the Greeks are those who are skilled in music. Hearken!”

  All ears upon The Sword were suddenly turned to listen, for the harp was a good one.

  “He playeth well!” said Sigurd. “No man shall slay him. We needed harping.”

  “Aye,” replied the discontented men, and then they shouted to Lysias: “Sing!”

  Not at once was he ready to sing, and the harp sounded on as if he heard them not.

  “Sing! Sing!” they shouted again. “Sing, or we will slay thee!”

  “Slay on, cowards!” laughed Lysias, angrily. “What care I for slaying!”

  For he had been muttering hoarsely to himself something about Sapphira and there were tears in his eyes.

  “Down!” shouted Sigurd, to a viking who was drawing his seax. “Harm him not, lest I send thee a spear! I would hear his harp. Down, I say!”

  The spear of Sigurd was a matter to be avoided, and the seaman left his weapon sheathed and sat down. But at that moment arose the voice of Lysias in a grand Greek song, a song of war and of contending warriors.

  “Right!” shouted the men to Sigurd. “Thou shalt slay any that shall rob us of our harping. He singeth well.”

  None would have expected a voice so powerful and so sweet, and they who heard it clapped their hands or clashed their spears upon their shields.

  Then the war song ended, and the harp began to send out low, sweet music that made them think of the Northland. They said to one another that now the trees were in leaf, and the grass was green, and the wind was in the pines, and the waves were on the shores, and the voices of the gods could be heard in the fiords. The women and the children, too, were in the houses, or they were caring for the cattle, and the fisher boats were out from all the villages. So they grew quiet and looked across the blue waters of the Middle Sea less discontentedly, and the thirst for blood waned away for the hour. And yet they knew not that now the Greek was singing in his own tongue of Sapphira the Beautiful, and that he did not at all see the ship, or those who were in it, or the sea, but that his eyes, like those of the blind, were seeking far away for a face and a form that were out of sight, beyond—he knew not where.

  His own countenance, with its perfect outlines and its youthful color, exhibited his sadness in keeping with the flowing music of his lyre, but he knew not that the eyes of Ulric and of Ben Ezra were reading him. Unlike the rest of the vikings, excepting Sigurd, they understood the words of the song, which was from one of the old poets of the better days of Greece.

  “I have heard,” whispered Ulric, “that even as he saith, the young women of his people have great beauty.”

  “Yea,” returned the Jew, “I have seen many of them. I have seen this Sapphira, and she did excel. But no maidens are as those of Israel and Judah, the roses of Sharon and the lilies of the valley. Their voices are those of birds and their forms are of the heaven. Such was the mother of my son in her youth. Such were my daughters. I am glad that they fell by the sword——”

  “How were they not captured by the Romans?” asked Ulric.

  “Because of the swords of their husbands and their brethren,” said the Jew, calmly. “All died together, but the fairest of them needed no sword save her own. She chose to die by her own hand rather than to become the sport of the heathen.”

  “She did well,” muttered Ulric. “She was dark and she was beautiful. She was brave and true. I have never loved, but I would I could find one like her.”

  “If she were of the race of Abraham,” replied Ben Ezra, “she might not wed save with one of her own people. That is our law concerning women.”

  “It is a good law,” said Ulric. “Hilda, the saga woman, told me of it. She said that ye have good sagas of your own and that your runes are ancient. Are there any among you that are descended from the gods?”

  “We have but one God,” said Ben Ezra, “and all we are his children, for he is the creator and father of men.”

  “He is Odin, the all-father?” said the young jarl, inquiringly. “Then, when I get to Asgard, I shall see him. I have thought much concerning gods. That was a strange one in the temple in the city of ruins. He gave us much treasure.”

  “We took it,” said Ben Ezra.

  “Yea,” replied Ulric, “we did so. But the Romans did not find it, nor any others that came, until the god who sat there watching permitted it to be taken. That was but his stone face that we saw. Thou knowest not much of gods, to think that he saw us not. Is thy god blind, that thou canst hide away from him?”

  “Not so,” said Ben Ezra, thoughtfully. “Talk no more. The Greek hath ceased. I think thy men like him better, but there is a spear waiting at any hour for either him or me.”

  “So is mine waiting for him who may cast his own unduly,” said Ulric, angrily, “and that know they well. But the sun is sinking and a sail is in sight. Sigurd seeth afar. He is coming.”

  “A small trireme,” said Sigurd, as he drew near. “I think we must take her.”

  “Take her,” said the jarl. “Oars, all! Vebba, son of Uric, steer for yonder keel!”

  Loud rang the shouts of the Saxons and the discontented became good-humored, but there was little need for fast rowing. The stranger was nearing them at its best speed, and ere long they could hear the sound of a trumpet.

  “The grapplings!” commanded Ulric. “If we may not strike her with the ship, we will board her!”

  Swiftly the two keels approached each other, and rash indeed were the Romans, for they were arrogant, not knowing with what they had to deal. They saw the Saxon flag on the mast. They heard the war horns. Many men they saw not at the first, for concealment of his strength was the prudence of the jarl, lest his enemy might strive to escape. All the more freely did the fighting men of the small trireme crowd her decks and gather at her bulwarks.

  Eve
n from afar did the arrows of Lysias and Tostig and other bowmen and the slingstones of Knud begin to go in among them, angering them as some of them fell, hurt or slain. They, too, had bowmen, but neither good nor many, and their arrows were short.

  Cunningly did Vebba veer away The Sword at the nearing, that a flight of spears might hurtle among the Roman soldiers, thinning them. Past them shot the swift keel of the Saxons, only to turn again suddenly, crashing back upon their further banks of oars. They, too, had been ready for boarding, but their bulwarks were not so high as were those of The Sword. Her grapnels were well thrown, moreover, and the two ships were as one when the legionaries made their brave rush to climb on board their enemy. Well had it been for them if they had been more in number. Well if they had not been so rashly self-confident, and if they had not been half beaten by astonishment at the sudden appearing of the Northmen at the ship’s side.

  With laughter and with mocking did the Saxons hurl their spears and then follow with sword and ax. Over the bulwarks they went, through the gaps left by slain Romans, and quickly they went two for one, slaying joyously. No Roman thought to surrender, nor was any mercy in the hearts of the vikings, but among them all did none smite more eagerly than did Ben Ezra and Lysias.

  “Slay! Slay!” shouted the Jew. “O Greek, thou art too slow. Hew down! Smite under the fifth rib! Let none escape!”

  “Good fighters are they!” shouted Vebba from the after deck of The Sword. “I will have a fine contest when I slay that Greek. I will fight him fairly. But I must get the Jew before me to see how he will handle that crooked blade. He cleft a Roman to the chin. Hah! I am but steersman and I miss the killing.”

  So did others of the vikings, for there were not enough on the trireme to put blood upon every good sword or spear. They were all gone too soon, and there was disappointment. Nevertheless, the legionaries had died hard, and nine of the Northern heroes had gone to Valhalla.