Then Ulric sat down by the hammer of Thor and bowed his head, for his heart was heavy.
“I can sing no song,” he thought, “over such a fight as this. I think it will now be long before I see the fiords and the hillsides of the Northland. My fate hath changed for me in an hour, and I know not what cometh. O Hilda, was this thy dark saying, that I understood not?”
No voice responded, nor any motion of the air, but he looked upward and he saw birds that were flying eastward.
“So will I go,” he muttered, “and they who are with me. There is too much blood upon this keel. I would she were burned with fire, for I hate her. The gods of the Romans have had their revenge upon me. I will never again speak lightly of any gods, for they have ways of their own and they are cunning. Who shall protect himself against an enemy whom he cannot see?”
Well blew the wind, and there was little now to be done save to steer and to rest. All ate and drank, and Ben Ezra seemed to love that dark, strong wine, but he used it sparingly.
“It is made in my own land,” he said, “but this came from a Greek island, I think. There is good wine in Canaan. I would eat again of the grapes and the pomegranates of Israel and Judah. O my son! That he might have been with me! O my Rachel and my daughters and my firstborn and his brethren! The curse of Jehovah be upon Rome forever! Amen!”
So the old Hebrew warrior wailed in the bitterness of his soul, and The Sword sprang on over the billows, bearing him to his own land, but she was now no longer a warship.
“We will not count the days,” said Ulric to Lysias. “We will speak to none that we may pass.”
“Pause not!” replied Lysias. “Thou hast thy life yet and I have mine. I have it in my mind that I shall see my Sapphira. I have had a dream in the night and she stood and beckoned me.”
Ulric answered not, but that night he slept upon the deck dreaming, and in the morning he thought about his dream also.
“Hilda was there,” he said, standing at the helm looking across the sea. “Behind her was the sun rising. Between her and the sun were many warriors, heroes of the gods, armed for battle. There was blood on some of them. But at the right hand of Hilda stood that dark and beautiful one, and there were flowers in her hair, and the flowers were both red and white.”
* * *
CHAPTER XIX. In the Night and In the Fire.
DAYS COME AND GO and no man may hinder them. The vikings went to and fro about The Sword and she seemed lonesome to them, for they were few and she was a great vessel. From time to time many sails were seen near and far, but none gave chase to The Sword. Even pirates and all merchantmen avoid what seemeth to be a warship.
“Winds have been both good and bad for us,” said the jarl to Ben Ezra at the close of a day. “What thought is in thy mind as to our nearness to any land?”
“O jarl,” said Ben Ezra, thoughtfully, “by the stars that I have watched; by the sun and winds; by the islands which we have passed; by a dim understanding which cometh to a man in such a case; by all the signs which are given me, we are so near to our destination that we may find a shore this night.”
“And if a shore,” said Ulric, “what shall it be?”
“Even the land that was given to the children of Israel by Jehovah, their god,” said the Jew. “It is ours yet, but the Romans have taken the kingdom from us.”
“Their gods are very strong,” said Ulric, “and they are exceedingly cunning. Else had Thor and Odin saved to us the swords that sailed with us from the Northland. Thy god refused to fight with the gods of the Romans. I think he was wise in that. But he agreed with them that they should not harm his temple, and I will go and see it. I may meet him.”
“Thou wilt not see him,” said Ben Ezra. “He was seen by Moses, our prophet, but to all others he hath hidden his face.”
“I know not that,” said Ulric. “They who see the gods are forbidden to tell. Hilda, the saga woman, loved me, but she would tell me naught concerning the dead save that they have a country of their own. There is much good in that country and when I am slain I shall go to it.”
“Thou art to die by the sword?” asked Ben Ezra. “How knowest thou that?”
“I am of Odin,” said Ulric, “and a cow’s death is not for me. There will be blood in the hour of my going. If thou seest me on a bed, be thou a Saxon unto me, and smite me through with a spear.”
“So said Saul, our king, to his armor-bearer at the end of a lost battle,” said Ben Ezra, marveling somewhat. “I will do as thou sayest; for verily thou art a jarl and of the princes of the North. Never before saw I a man like unto thee for battle.”
“Save Sigurd, the son of Thorolf, the sea king,” said Ulric, “I have met none that might stand before me. He too, is of one line of the hero Asas, but not of Odin.”
Ben Ezra was silent, thinking of these things, and The Sword drove onward. He and Ulric were at the prow as the darkness deepened. They could see no more save the stars above and the glancing waves around the ship, but they could hear the music of the lyre of Lysias on the after deck. Knud the Bear was at the helm, and all that remained of the crew were gathered there. They cared not to sleep in the cabins or in the bunks, for some of them said that the dead came at night to look again at the keel from which they had departed and that the evil spirit came also.
“I saw him not,” said Wulf the Skater, “but Vebba, the son of Ulric, spoke to me, and I think he said the Nornir were at hand. So sayeth Sigurd, the son of Thorolf.”
Greatly dispirited were they all, and the lyre was a comfort, but the song of Lysias was low-voiced and sad and they could not understand the words.
Now from the fore deck came back to them one who had heard from the jarl that they were to look out for a land and be ready to lower the sail.
“Good!” shouted Tostig the Red. “O Sigurd, go to the jarl and ask if we are steering rightly.”
“That are we,” said Sigurd. “Seest thou not the north star? Go we not eastward? What need to trouble the jarl? I would that they who are dead had obeyed him. Then had we all been more joyful.”
“Never had crew such adventures as we are having,” said Knud. “I think we may gain some good fighting before long. My hand goeth often to the hilt of my seax and my blood is unquiet.”
“A good sign!” exclaimed Wulf the Skater. “I feel better for hearing thee. O Greek, sing us a war song!”
Loudly answered the smitten lyre for a moment, and Lysias obeyed, but quickly came back from the fore deck the command of Ulric, the son of Brander.
“Silence, all!” he shouted. “There is a trumpet, far away southerly. We are too few and we near the land. Hark to the breakers!”
Listening diligently, all ears heard the dashing of that water as if upon rocks, and yet again came up from the southward that distant peal of the trumpet.
“Struck!” suddenly exclaimed Sigurd. “We go upon a shore. Is this thy land, O Jew?”
Not with a great shock, but glidingly and grating hard, did The Sword go on a little while the sail was lowering. Then she stood fast, and all on board of her knew that the end of her voyage had come.
Needing no command, the Saxon sailors made ready two of the small boats and prepared to lower them.
“The trumpet is nearer,” said Ben Ezra. “But this ledge of rocks cannot be far from the mainland. Thy men seem to know not of fear and they obey thee.”
“No Roman arms or armor,” shouted Ulric. “We land as Saxons and we will leave behind us no token. Kindle a fire amidships.”
To his cabin went he and Ben Ezra, and unto them shortly went Lysias, but each prepared bundles of his own to carry to the boats.
“No man knoweth of thy treasure nor of mine,” said Ben Ezra to Ulric. “Let the Greek, too, have gold and silver coins, for he will need them. He hath fought well.”
In like manner was every man furnished speedily and the burdens were not made uselessly heavy. Nevertheless, Ben Ezra said to Ulric:
“Never before landed boats
of thy people bearing to any shore such treasures as are these. We may buy any Roman governor if in so doing we do not hire him to put us to the sword. We will say that we were wrecked, but we must not be seen on the coast.”
Now the boats were lowered and all entered them, but in every quarter of The Sword was a hot fire kindled. The Roman trumpet had not sounded again when the Saxons rowed away into the darkness.
“Row harder!” commanded Ulric. “The light of the fire increaseth. We know not how near may be an enemy.”
Well had he spoken, for the flames were rising furiously and the light wind fanned them well.
“A shore!” said Sigurd. “A sandy beach!” But all others were looking back at The Sword, to see how fast she was burning, and at that moment there swept past her, outside, as if nearing to grapple her, a vast shape of a warship. Then arose suddenly a great volume of shouts in the Latin tongue, and the notes of a trumpet sounding commands, but Ulric said in a low voice to his comrades:
“A quinquereme! And she also is upon the ledge of rocks. What shall save her from destruction by that fire?”
“She cannot escape,” said Wulf the Skater. “It is as if we had set a good trap. I think the fire hath already caught her sail. There will many Romans perish this night.”
“Pull!” commanded Ulric. “The beach! We are here. Haul up the boats. Out with all cargo and leave them. Hark to the shouts of them who burn!”
Rashly in swift haste had the Roman warship dashed forward to discover what might be this unusual thing, of a light that grew and of a crew that replied not to a trumpet of hailing. Not of any rocky ledge had her steersman or her sailing master been thinking, and her centurion had deemed it his duty to grapple and to board this strange burning trireme. He would yet have passed her once, only studying her case, but his own ship had smitten a sunken rock, which forced her to swerve aside heavily, plunging her alongside of her fiery destroyer.
In vain were then all struggles to release the quinquereme. In vain was any effort to extinguish the swiftly devouring flames. Even of small boats the Roman ship had but four, and there were sailors who secretly, quickly lowered these, dropping into them to row away at once. Of these hurrying runaways there were none but hired Ionian rowers, and they cared for their lives only.
Ill fared it for legionaries in heavy armor, for if they sprang overboard, it was to sink. Sad was the fate of many who went into the water, crowding and clinging, for they perished grappling each other in their astonishment and despair. The Roman warship was on fire from end to end, and the side which was not yet burning was toward the sea. What wonder that all discipline failed and that all thought of obedience was gone? for every bond is loosed by fire.
“If any follow, they must not find us on the beach,” said Ben Ezra to Ulric. “I can see that the land riseth high and that there are great rocks. Let us depart!”
“Odin!” responded the jarl. “The Sword hath once more smitten the Romans. Every man take up his burden. Follow me!”
“A good captain,” muttered Ben Ezra. “I will cleave unto him. But verily our lives are worth but little. I would that we were among the mountains, even in Gilboa or in Lebanon, or in the wilderness of Judea.”
“Guide thou after daylight cometh,” said Ulric. “I would find crags and trees.”
On went they, climbing a steep, and ever and anon they looked behind to watch the awful splendor of the burning of the two ships upon the ledge.
“Here may we halt,” said Ulric at last. “We are on a height. It is a forest beyond us. The fire burneth lower. There will be no pursuit.”
There they sat down, therefore, wearied with their burdens, putting these aside, and ere long they slept, every man, without fear.
At the ledge of rocks in the sea there was silence, for the two ships burned to the water’s edge and there was little left of them. Nevertheless, of the swimmers there were a number who reached the shore, but all were of sailors unarmored, and no officer or legionary was among them. Here at the beach they found the two small boats left by the Saxons, with oars in them, but the four boats of the quinquereme, with the Ionian rowers, had landed further on. There was little to be done by these exhausted swimmers but to lie down and rest, and the Ionians were likewise waiting for day, being full of fear over what they had been guilty of in taking away the boats of their ship. Only the sword could await them if they were found by a Roman patrol of the coast, for they were to be accounted deserters from their assigned posts.
Not long was the remainder of the night. The morn came, and when the sun arose Ulric, the son of Brander, sat upon a rock, under an oak tree, looking out upon the blue waters of the Middle Sea. Beside him sat Sigurd, the son of Thorolf, and scattered around upon the grass were the other Saxons. Lysias stood and leaned against the rock, but Ben Ezra was nowhere to be seen. In the hand of Ulric was the long, straight sword that had been found with Annibaal at the ruined city on the African shore, but it was sheathed, and the jewels of its golden hilt were glittering.
“There are men upon the shore by our boats,” said Sigurd. “They are escaped from the burning vessel.”
“Look southward!” replied Ulric. “A squadron of Roman cavalry. Let us see what they will do, but let us step back behind trees out of their sight. They are too many for us.”
“Worse than that,” said Lysias. “Horsemen might carry an alarm and legionaries on foot might hunt us in these forests.”
The cavalry rode fast, and the men at the beach looked mournfully into each other’s faces, for there was no fleeing from riders. Quickly came these and their officer sprang to the ground, speaking loudly.
The light of the burning ships had been seen from afar, and even now a swift galley had arrived, rowing around the rocks of the ledge, while they who were on board of her studied well the charred fragments.
The officer questioned with care the rowers, and a small boat from the galley came to the shore with another officer.
“Were there other boats than these?” he asked, pointing at the twain left there by the Saxons. “These are from a warship.”
“Yea,” said the centurion of the cavalry, “and these deserters took away all chance for the escape of our comrades.”
“We all swam ashore,” they said, “and we found these boats here. Other men than we made off with them, We are innocent.”
The two centurions looked at each other and they were of one accord in this matter. At a word of command soldiers dropped from their horses sword in hand. At another word the work of punishment began and the stern justice of the Roman military law was done in utter injustice, for not one of these who were slain had sinned.
“They had done somewhat in other days,” said Ulric, “and the vengeance of their gods found them here, bringing upon them a sword. No man escapeth the gods. But I see another man down the beach. He is fleeing as if for his life. I think, therefore, that these were not all who came to the shore in some manner.”
Great was the wrath and the dismay of all those Romans at this terrible affair of wreck and fire, but there was no sign to suggest to them the presence of Saxons on the sea or on the land.
Unto the four boatloads of Ionian rowers at their landing place, where they still lingered, came running the one of their number who had gone forth as a scout. Pallid with fear and horror he gasped out to them the thing that he had seen, and he fell to the sand breathless with running.
“To the mountains!” they shouted. “We are slain if we are found on the coast. They now know not that we are here.”
Then it could be seen that not only had they taken plenty of weapons even in their hasty flight from the burning ship, but that their apparel was decent. Also their talk indicated that they had many coins of money, and that they knew this country whereupon they had landed. They stood still for a moment, and they swore to one another by their gods that this should forever be a secret, and then they marched away up the steep and were hidden in the forest.
Neither had they fai
led, in their talk upon the shore, to wonder much concerning the first burning vessel which had been the cause of their own disaster. They knew not of the Saxon boats, but they had said of themselves that they would not willingly fall in with any who had escaped lest their peril might be increased.
“It were death,” they said, “and we must at once put any such men to the sword.”
The Saxon men, whom they did not know, but of whom they had been speaking, were gathered together on the mountain.
“O jarl,” said Tostig the Red, “well that thou didst order us to bring provisions, also, for our first needs. Shall we not now go on into the forest and find a place where we may kindle a fire?”
“O Tostig,” said the jarl, “Ben Ezra is our guide. This is his country. What sayest thou, O Jew?”
“Only this,” replied Ben Ezra; “that we are upon Mount Carmel, and that the forests thereof are deep. We are safe if we are prudent. It is a wilderness into which not many come at any time, but there are villages and cities not far away.”
“Lead on thou, then,” said Ulric. “Let every man bring all his burden. We will keep up strong hearts, and we will see to what this strange coming on shore will take us.”
They had need of cheerful words from their jarl, for upon them all was a shadow deeper than any of the shadows of the forest. Their faces were dark, but among them all was there no face like that of Lysias, the Greek. There was no light in it, but rather a bitter sullenness.
“Sapphira! Sapphira!” he muttered, walking apart from the rest. “Am I indeed nearing thee? Am I to find thee? Am I, then, to love thee again or am I to slay thee? Thou shalt not live to be the bondslave of a Roman, even though he be a prince and a ruler!”
Ulric the Jarl heard him. It was as if he had been spoken to concerning the Hebrew maiden whom he had seen with Hilda.
“I think that she is somewhere in this land to which I have been guided,” he thought. “I will go on and I may find her. This forest is a dense cover of this mountain. I shall be glad to look upon that which is beyond it.”
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