Ulric the Jarl

by William Stoddard

  “To them the gods were kind,” said Sigurd, “but this trireme is a fair prize. There are ten head of small, fat cattle, besides four fresh carcasses. We must have them on board The Sword, with the other plunder, before we kindle the fire.”

  The men were attending to that, for here was their fresh meat without the trouble of landing to find it. All of the slain might be burned with the trireme, with all honor, so there was no more care for that. Some Saxons were wounded, but not so that they might die, and there were no prisoners. All provisions and arms were taken over speedily and the good spirits of the men were returning, for none of them waited for needless cooking of the beef that was ready. Roasting might be done afterward, but the sharp knife could shred, and a viking cared for little more at the end of a won battle.

  “Fire, now,” commanded Ulric, at the last. “Throw off the grapplings and let her drift away. I would see her burn.”

  So the rowers pulled to a little distance and paused, letting The Sword rock gently over the soft waves while the fire blazed more and more brightly upon the decks and in the waist of the Roman trireme.

  “She burneth well,” said Sigurd.

  “So burn every Roman keel!” exclaimed Ben Ezra. “Jehovah of Hosts hath been with me this day, and I have gotten vengeance upon mine enemies. My sword hath been deep in the hearts of the heathen.”

  Lysias was silent, but his fair face glistened with pleasure as he gazed upon the mounting flames. His lyre was now in his hand again and his fingers wandered over the strings.

  “The harp! the harp!” shouted some of the vikings. “If he playeth not, we will slay him.”

  “An evil spirit is among them,” muttered the Jew. “Whence he cometh I know not. Who shall cast him out? for we have neither scribe nor priest on this accursed vessel. I think that he belongeth to the idol upon the fore deck.”

  In that he spoke of the anvil and hammer of Thor, for to him the Saxons ascribed the gift of this victory.

  “He is a demon,” said Ben Ezra, “and he hath entered into these uncircumcised. I would he might lead them to Gehenna.”

  “The harp! the harp!” again demanded the vikings, and the voices of the rowers were joined to the shouts of those who were feasting.

  “The wind riseth well and so do yonder flames,” said Lysias; “but they who are dead feel no pain of burning. Within me is a fire which is a continual torment. The harp were a relief, and I will sing.”

  It seemed as if a strange spirit of wild song had come upon him and his lyre. It mattered not greatly that few of the vikings understood his words, so fierce and so triumphant was the music of his singing. Moreover, they looked upon his face and it gave them an interpretation, for there was a terrible meaning in its expression.

  Now the rowers ceased and the sail was up, but the burning Roman ship also felt the fresh wind, and it was as if it strove to keep them company while Lysias sang.

  “She will founder shortly,” said the jarl. “We are leaving her. I would I knew more nearly whitherto we have come. We are far in the Middle Sea and we should be near some of its islands.”

  “Thou knowest,” remarked Sigurd, the son of Thorolf, “that opposite to the southerly point of Italy there lieth a great island, whereon is a volcano, vomiting fire, for under it is the world which burns, and there do the gods war with one another. I think we are between that island, which is called Sicily, and a part of Africa. O Jew, what sayest thou? Thou hast visited many parts of Africa.”

  “We have wandered here and there,” said Ben Ezra. “The question is difficult. But if yonder haze telleth of the coast of Sicily we may meet another trireme soon. There are many hereabout. They will for the greater part be merchantmen.”

  Down sank the vessel they had burned, with much loud hissing of fire meeting water, and the clouds of smoke and steam went up while the Saxons blew their war horns and shouted their exultation. They all had feasted well, however, and those who were not on watch were willing to slumber while the increasing gale carried The Sword swiftly toward the east.

  Another was at the helm, and Ulric, the son of Brander, went and sat down upon a silken-covered couch in the after cabin. He was alone, and he brought out his jewels to look at them. They were many and they were beautiful, and he turned them over one by one.

  “Never before,” he said, “did I have so good a lamp as this that hangeth here. The oil, too, is perfumed and the room is full of a sweet odor. These are the ways of the Roman captains and rich men. I may not see Rome, for there are too many quinqueremes in the way, too many legions of warriors on the land. We are few. I do not care much for their gods, for I have beaten them. I will go on to Asgard, but I will go first to this temple in Jerusalem. Ben Ezra saith that I can buy both priests and governors with these bright stones. But I may have to slay my own men if they obey not. If I cut down a few of them the rest will be more peaceable. These Saxons that came with Sigurd hardly call me their jarl. If they were dead it would not matter. I will go my own way.”

  The ruby was now in his hand, the great red stone that was graven with the name of the Hebrew god, and among them all there was no other like this. It glowed like fire in the lamplight, and Ulric said: “It is full of blood. It is a stone of stones. But whence came the blood, and how is it full of fire? Is he angry with me? I think I will carry his gem to him in his temple, and I will tell him I have brought it back. I would not keep from any god that which is his.”

  So he put it back into the casket and took out an emerald. This, too, was graven with deeply cut runes.

  “One of them,” said Ulric, “is like the runes that Hilda showed me in the sand by the sea, but it is alone. I care not until there are three. It is green and wonderful. O Hilda of the hundred years, would that I could show to thee this jewel of the old gods!”

  The lamp burned low and it was flickering. Without the gale roared loudly and the waves beat against the sides of the ship with a groaning sound. There was no voice but of the wind and of the surges. The curtains in the cabin swayed to and fro, as did the cresset of the lamp.

  “Hilda! Hilda!” murmured Ulric, but he saw her not, and even his thought of her was confused in his mind. The saga woman was tall and dark, but not so tall and fairer was this thought which came before his eyes as if he were in a dream:

  “So beautiful! So beautiful!” he said. “Her eyes are like stars and her hair is a cloud of shining curls. Her lips are like the ruby of the temple. I think she is one of the Hebrew maidens that Ben Ezra saith excel all others. I will go to that land and find her, for it must be that she also is of the daughters of the gods. And now I can see Hilda, and her hair is white, but her eyes are shut. Therefore I know that they have carried her to the tomb that was made in the rock of Odin. I shall see her no more until I get to Asgard. If this is her hand upon my head, she should speak, for I love her well.”

  He listened, and the lamp went out, but no voice came; and he lay down upon his couch, but a fire was kindling in his heart.

  “Lysias loveth Sapphira,” he thought, “but thus did I never feel before. The Hebrew maiden! I would Ben Ezra had not told me of her, for now I can have no other. I had thought that my love would be blue-eyed and a daughter of Odin. Shall I not be content if I find that she is dark, and that she is a daughter of this Jehovah, the god of the Jews? I will go on and I will see what she will say to me.”

  Then he slept, and The Sword swept onward swiftly toward the sunrise.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XVIII. The Evil Spirit on “The Sword.”

  THROUGH ONE DAY MORE the western gale blew furiously and The Sword was driven before it, for none on board cared for any better steering. Many vessels were seen from time to time, but all were too busy caring for themselves to pay overmuch attention to a trireme that might be fighting the storm as they were. The vikings were at ease concerning the weather, but they grumbled much that the tossing and pitching of their ship prevented them from making fires wherewith to roast their beef or to broi
l their fish. On board their Roman keel they had found gratings of iron for cooking, better than any of their North making. These gratings were wide, upheld by iron feet, and under them were slabs of stone to receive ashes and cinders. Fire would remain upon them well in any ordinary weather, but in such as this the brands and coals might be cast hither and thither. It was not even a time for the telling of sagas nor for the lyre of Lysias, and again the men grew moody and sullen.

  The night returned, and Ulric kept the helm through all its watches, for a heavy weight was on his mind and he had heard from Ben Ezra concerning the evil spirit. “I would I could slay a demon,” he had answered, “but of what good is a spear for an enemy thou canst not see? It were almost as if one fought with a god. I have thought I would like to fight with one, but not with Thor or Odin nor with thy Jehovah.”

  “They who contend with him are broken,” replied the Jew, “but I tell thee we are far on our way. I think we are not far from Cyprus. We might safely land in one of the havens of that island.”

  “We might meet a Roman fleet,” said Ulric.

  “They have none in these waters,” said Ben Ezra. “Their merchant ships of any consequence go and come in squadrons, well protected, and they have driven out all pirates. They will not be watching, I think, for the coming of such as thou art.”

  “We now are late in the season,” replied Ulric. “I had thought to have reached this water before any other keel from the North. We know not what may have called upon the Romans for watching. I am thinking that when this wind abateth I must find the men somewhat to occupy them.”

  “An evil spirit is a busy one,” said Ben Ezra. “All thine would find enough to do in Cyprus.”

  Afterward many of the men came to the jarl with questionings, and also to the Jew and to Lysias. These were looked upon with more favor for the time, for it was said that they might have some worth for piloting.

  A night and a day and a night went by and now the waters were again quieted. They were even too still, for the rowers had to be sent to the oars, and the sun looked down upon them with fervent heat, making their toil burdensome. Once more the ship was floating upon an even keel and the men speedily bethought them of the fire gratings. Twain of the fat cattle were butchered, and the jarl thought well of it, that the men might be kept in good humor. The fires were lighted, and casks of ale were opened, but the evil spirit was, nevertheless, making himself busy among the hearts of the men.

  In the trireme The Sword itself, when she was captured, there had been a few skins of wine, but it had been red and sour and the vikings liked it not. Such as it was it had long since been consumed. In the spoil of the burned trireme, however, and hardly noticed at the first, there had been found many wine skins. All had been taken with care, and now one of them was opened to find out what it might be.

  “Dark and sweet and good!” exclaimed Vebba, the son of Uric. “I will bear a horn of it to the jarl.”

  Large was the drinking horn, and he filled it to the brim. Sparkles arose upon the surface of the wine, and it seemed to laugh, as if the evil spirit which lived in it were accomplishing his purpose.

  “It is strong,” said Ben Ezra. “Drink it not, O jarl, for the demon of wine is thine enemy.”

  But he was too late, for the son of Brander drained the drinking horn as if it had held naught but ale. He felt it from his head to his feet, as if it had been poured upon a fire that was burning within him, and he stood erect, straightening himself and clinching his hands.

  “Bring me another horn of it,” he said.

  “That thou shalt not do,” commanded Ben Ezra, sternly. “Thou art the captain. I bid thee drink no more, lest thou lose thy life and thy vessel. The demon is upon thee, O jarl! Resist him, or he will bind thee hand and foot.”

  Then remembered Ulric a saying of his father and of Hilda, and it was as if he had heard her voice saying: “Son of Odin, beware of the dark wine of the south lands, for in it is death.”

  “Bring me no more,” he said to Vebba, “and let the wine skins be cast into the sea.”

  But the demon had been very busy and from lip to lip had already passed the goblets and the drinking horns. They had been emptied only to be quickly filled again, and now the Saxons of Sigurd shouted:

  “Haha! O jarl! Thou wouldst rob us of our feast? We will show thee a thing.”

  Sigurd himself went among them, but to him, also, they paid no heed, and he came back again.

  “I am sleepy,” said Ulric. “Wulf the Skater, these three nights I have wakened. I will lie down for a while. Take the helm.”

  Then came Tostig the Red and Knud the Bear and four other Saxons of the house of Brander, and they sat down by Ulric, spear in hand, with their axes lying by them. Lysias brought his bow and Ben Ezra closed the visor of his brazen helmet.

  “Trouble cometh,” he said. “The heathen are full of wine and of the thirst of blood.”

  There was no quarrel between twain of the vikings that were stepping forth upon the fore deck, but they were berserkers, and their seaxes were in their hands, for they were to fight without mail or shields.

  Skin after skin of that dark, strong wine was opening, and the men loved it, but they would see blood, they said, and the two berserkers shouted as they fought.

  “Both of them are down!” exclaimed Lysias. “Two more take their places. O that the jarl were awake! But I cannot rouse him. Were the Romans to come, we were all dead men.”

  Furious was now the drinking, and a man cast a spear at another without cause, laughing to see him struggle and bleed.

  “The evil spirit hath entered them all!” groaned Ben Ezra. “This is that which I feared greatly. Every man’s sword is against his neighbor.”

  Terrible was that fighting, for warriors who had lost all skill of warding blows or parrying spear casts were still strong to throw or to strike.

  “Where is now this jarl of ours?” yelled a drunken viking. “We will see if he be a son of Odin. We will slay him and then we may sail at our pleasure. He hath ruled us with too hard a hand.”

  Steady and stern had indeed been the rule of the son of Brander, and he had brooked no gainsaying, but he had been a prudent captain from the first, and there were a full third of the men now to stand by him in his peril. Would there had been more, for on both sides the slain were many. Moreover, when a man went down that was quickly his end, on whichever side he fought, for an enemy came to thrust him.

  “Wake, son of Brander! Wake!” shouted Tostig in the ear of Ulric. “Call thou upon Odin, thy father, and draw thy sword.”

  Waiting for no orders from any man, Lysias was sending his arrows, sure and deep striking, calling out:

  “With me be thou, O Apollo, god of the bow! With me, O Mars, god of battles!”

  But Ulric opened his eyes slowly and breathed hard. Then he sat up and he saw the men fighting and the blood flowing.

  “Odin!” he roared, in a voice they had not heard before; but the weapon he lifted was his pole ax, and he rushed forward to the front of his friends.

  “I go with him,” said Ben Ezra. “It may be his god hath come to help him. Be with me, O Jehovah of strength!”

  “We will guard thee at the helm,” said Knud and Tostig to Wulf the Skater. “This will be ended speedily. Look at the jarl!”

  “He, too, hath a demon!” burst from the lips of Ben Ezra, as he saw Ulric striking. “They go down before him like corn before the reaper.”

  Sigurd had been smitten to the deck by his own Saxons, and Ulric stood over him with his ax until the son of Thorolf was hidden by corpses of the slain.

  Mad with wine and with the fever of the thirst of blood, the rebellious vikings fought on, nor would they yield to the command of the son of Brander.

  “We will die!” they said. “But we will first slay thee. It is a feast of swords.”

  “I would I could spare enough for rowers,” said Ben Ezra, “but their blood is on their own heads. The evil spirit destroyeth them.”
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  “Thus endeth the cruise of The Sword!” said Ulric, sadly, when at last he might pause for breath. “Save thee, O Ben Ezra, and Lysias, and these few faithful, there are none living save some for whom the valkyrias are calling. What shall we do? for thou art old. What shall be the end of these things?”

  But Tostig and Knud had watched the falling of Sigurd and they were lifting from him the corpses.

  “The sail is up,” said Ben Ezra. “Steer eastward, for we may not do aught else now than land in Syria. Thou and thine shall see Jerusalem.”

  “So be it!” said Ulric. “I think we are none of us wounded. I am not.”

  “Glad am I of that!” exclaimed Lysias. “I feared for thee in that combat. But thou art of the heroes and Jove was thy keeper, with Mars and Apollo.”

  “A feast of blood!” exclaimed Tostig as he lifted the body of Vebba, the son of Uric, from Sigurd, the son of Thorolf. “The sea king is not dead. He was but stunned.”

  Slowly arose the old warrior until he sat erect and looked around him.

  “I saw them!” he said, huskily. “I saw the Nornir in the air above the sail. I saw the valkyrias, but they looked sternly at me and passed by. Why, I know not, for I fought well. Odin hath taken many this day. O jarl, what doest thou?”

  “Eastward!” said Ulric. “Canst thou stand upon thy feet?”

  Tostig and Knud aided him, and they brought him a goblet of ale, for wine he would not drink.

  “It is well with me now,” he said. “My helmet is cloven, but my skull is safe. The ax of Vebba was heavy, but he will strike no more. Sad is it that he and these are slain. Better had they fallen in a fight with the Romans.”

  “Not so,” said Ben Ezra, “for if some of them were living all we were dead. Let us cast them into the sea.”

  Wulf the Skater had watched the clouds, and now he said:

  “Ulric the Jarl, if thou wilt, they should be over the sides speedily, for a wind cometh. We shall use no oars henceforth.”

  Sad work it was to cast so many forms of dead heroes into the sea, but so had it been foredoomed by the Nornir, and there were some of the wounded who died while the task went on.