“None are here,” said Ben Ezra. “And the people will trouble us not. Pontius the Spearman, the procurator of Judea, hath many gladiators and he hath mercenaries whose speech is strange to the nation. None will question you because ye are not legionaries.”
“Well for them that they do not,” growled Knud the Bear. “I am no hired gladiator. I am a free Saxon. What sayest thou, O jarl?”
“Nothing,” said Ulric, striding forward. “Let us see what this crowd meaneth.”
“We have naught to do with them,” said Sigurd, “but I am curious to have a look at the people of the land. None of them can say to himself that we came out of the sea on the other side of Carmel.”
Every Saxon was as Sigurd in willing to see the people and to know what this might mean, for there were very many in the highway, men and women and children, and there were no horsemen, nor did there seem to be so much as a spear or a shield among them.
* * *
CHAPTER XXI. The Rabbi from Nazareth.
LYSIAS, THE GREEK, STOOD in a copse of thick bushes near the forest border and looked out upon the plain, but not toward Gilboa. He had been digging in the earth, as Ulric and Ben Ezra had digged in the cave, but he had not been hiding treasure. He had but wrapped his weapons and his armor in a woolen robe-cloth that he might conceal such perilous evidence from inquiring officials of Rome or of any local authority. Earth and flat stones and sods were over them now, and he had made marks upon trees whereby he might find that place again if he should at any future day will to do so. He now walked out beyond the bushes with no trace upon him that he had been a warrior.
“Well was it for me,” he said, “that I found such goodly raiment among the spoils of the trireme. Fewer questions are asked of him who is handsomely appareled. Soon I will procure me a beast and I will go with all speed to Jerusalem. It is a city to which strangers come from all the world, and he who escapeth into a multitude hideth himself in a solitude.”
The tunic which he wore was of silk and his robe was of embroidered linen. Sandals were on his feet and his white turban was of a costly silken fabric. If he had retained any weapon, it was now perfectly concealed. To the eye of one who might chance to meet him he would suggest beauty and riches and peace, and not at all an archer whose bow had sent many messengers of death.
“Now must I be careful concerning robbers,” he thought. “I have both gold and jewels with me. But to all who ask my errand I shall be but a scholar in the school of Gamaliel at Jerusalem, and therefore I may not enter Samaria, but must pass on swiftly. The Romans themselves favor all such scholars, and I shall have their protection. Their laws are good and my time for smiting them again hath not come. But never will I show mercy to a Roman.”
Other things he said concerning the much-vaunted laws and justice of the world’s conquerors. Beyond a doubt they not only claimed much in the way of righteousness, and also did many things righteously, but behind this sternly formal justice of theirs, and but little concealed, was a man holding out his hand for bribes, and near him was a place of scourging and the sword of a ready executioner.
Nevertheless, Lysias walked on joyously. Soon he was in a highway, and by it passed through hamlets. He looked inquiringly at all places as he went, but he paused not for conversation with any whom he met or greeted. At last he came to the open gate of a wall, behind which were a goodly house and some outbuildings of stone. In the gateway stood an old man, well appareled, and before him Lysias stood making reverent obeisance, as to an elder.
“I am Simon Ben Assur,” said the old man. “Who art thou, O Greek?”
“I am Lysias, the scholar, of the school of Gamaliel at Jerusalem,” he replied. “I have lost my beast, for he was worthless and he would go no further. Hast thou a good ass for sale, that will travel swiftly?”
“I see that some one hath sent thee to me,” replied Ben Assur. “Thou knowest, therefore, that the beast is a swift one.”
“Well with thee,” said Lysias. “I would buy him but for thy extortionate price. Wilt thou now give me an honest bidding, that I may pay thee and take him away?”
“Ha!” said Ben Assur. “They told thee my price? There is more which they did not tell thee. The ass is young and there is none swifter than he. He is well trained. The saddle and the bridle are to be purchased with him, as thou needest.”
“One needeth them to ride withal,” said Lysias. “But every beast hath faults and thine is not worth, upon the market, the half of thy asking. I will but look at him and pass on about my business.”
Loudly laughed Simon then, looking keenly into the handsome face of the Greek. He turned and spoke to some one within the inclosure, bidding him bring the ass.
“O youth,” he said, “I mind not that thou hast spoken with that evil beast of a Samaritan. Arcas offereth that he will pay me for the ass next Passover week; and I rejected him not, but told him that the price must now be paid to me in five golden pieces. I will say to thee that the pay days of Arcas never come, and wise men deal not at all with him unless he giveth double security.”
“I deal not with him,” said Lysias, “but I will see thy beast.”
And now a serving man led forth to the gate a large and well-shaped animal, upon which were a fair saddle and bridle.
“Mount and try him,” said Simon. “If thou canst ride at all, thou wilt ascertain what is under thee; but an unskillful rider may wisely choose another, for he is full of life.”
Lysias sprang to the saddle and rode back and forth along the highway.
“He must be mine at any price,” he thought, “for in his legs is my safety.”
“Wilt thou take thy good bargain, O Greek?” shouted Ben Assur as Lysias returned.
“He is no good bargain at five pieces,” said Lysias. “No ass is worth so much. I will give thee one piece—”
“Thou art no Samaritan,” interrupted the old Jew. “Thou art not Arcas, to buy of me and afterward to rob me of my pay with false witnesses before the magistrate’s seat, proving that thou hast already paid me. Hast thou not two pieces in thy hand? I will give thee a writing of sale lest he be taken from thee in Samaria.”
“Two I will give,” said Lysias, after again galloping up and down the road. “Make out thy bill of sale to Lysias, the scholar. I now return speedily to Jerusalem.”
“I think well of thee!” exclaimed Simon; afterward adding, “I pray thee take my greeting to the great Rabbi Gamaliel. He knoweth me. I deal fairly with thee. I am not ashamed to have thee show unto even him this thy purchase.”
Back into the house he went and he soon returned with a small square parchment of a bill of sale. But the coins which he received were heavy coins of Athens and he weighed them thoughtfully in his hand.
“Good youth,” he said, “take thou now the counsel of thy elder. Carry not too many of such as these with thee. Open not thy purse before strangers. Thou art overwell appareled. Get thee as far as the gate of a walled town having a garrison before the sun goeth down. Ride fast and far that thou mayest be beyond any who might inquire of thee concerning that which is now under thee. Thou hadst better not enter Samaria.”
“Fare thee well,” said Lysias, urging the ass promptly. “I take thy counsel.”
“Well for him if he so doeth,” muttered Ben Assur in the gateway, “since Arcas claimeth the beast as already his own. I will myself now depart for Damascus and the Samaritan devil may seek for his five pieces where he will. I have beaten him.”
The thought then in the mind of Lysias did not err greatly.
“Something is concealed from me as to this swift one,” he said to himself. “I have no business in Samaria that I should risk being robbed and then imprisoned as a thief. But if I now meet a Roman patrol, no officer will deem me a pirate coming ashore from a burning trireme with a band of Saxons.”
Therefore he blessed his gods for guiding him to the house of Ben Assur, and he rode on in safety, but not as yet was there any safety for the others who, like h
im, had escaped the sea and the fire. Far behind him on Mount Carmel, in a place of few trees, an Ionian sailor fell breathless upon the grass while beside him halted a Roman horseman.
“Get thee up!” he shouted. “Answer truly lest I slay thee! Where are thy companions?”
“Slain by robbers in the armor of Saxons,” responded the fallen man, rising. “I will tell thee.”
Another horseman came galloping to the side of the first and legionaries on foot might be seen not far away. The wisdom of a commander had sent a band of searchers to the side of Carmel toward the plain rather than among the crags and forests.
Gaining his breath as he could, for he had been running swiftly, the Ionian told all save that he claimed to have swam to the shore.
“Thou sawest but three of these Saxons?” said the officer at last. “I had no knowledge of any such pirate trireme. The Saxons are to be the scourge of the Middle Sea if Cæsar destroyeth them not.”
More questions were put to the frightened Ionian, and then he was told:
“I will not slay thee. Thou wilt come with me to Samaria. Thy testimony must go before the procurator that a fleet may cruise against these rovers from the ocean stream. Thy companions that remain must be sought out that they may confirm thee.”
Calm and wise was this man, and he at once sent forward, also, swift runners to ask here and there if anything had been seen of a band, or of single men, of the Saxons who had escaped from the trireme.
Now the plain of Esdraelon is wide and the skirts of Carmel are long and rugged. There were none who had seen Ulric the Jarl and his vikings up to the hour when they walked out into the highway. By his directions, as a prudent captain, they marched orderly, two and two, as if they belonged to the auxiliary of some Roman legion and were going by due authority.
“So,” advised Ben Ezra, “no man less than a quaternion or a magistrate will run the risk of asking thee a question. No man of the people may demand the errand of a soldier lest harm come to him.”
“The multitude hath paused,” said Sigurd. “They gather around a man. Let us go see.”
Right and left parted the crowd as the Saxon column marched onward, but it halted suddenly, the people closing around and behind it, curiously staring, but not touching nor inquiring whence it came.
There was an open space on the broad highway, and five paces in front of the jarl stood the man of whom Sigurd had spoken. He was of full height and broad, but Ulric said in a low tone to Ben Ezra, in Latin:
“He looketh not altogether like a Jew. I have seen darker Saxons. I think he is a jarl. Such as he might be a leader of men.”
Proud was the bearing of Sigurd, the son of Thorolf, the sea king; high and stern was the aspect of Ulric, the son of Odin; tall and powerful men were all the other vikings; but not among them all was there one with the dignity of this plainly dressed Jew rabbi, who stood there unarmed and with only a turban on his head.
He spoke not now to the Saxons, but before him on the earth rolled and wallowed one who seemed in agony. His eyes were starting from their sockets and there was foam upon his lips. A shriek burst from him as his convulsed limbs beat the earth.
“He hath a demon!” said Ben Ezra to Ulric. “The evil spirit teareth him. There are many such. Let us see what this rabbi will do. I think him a learned one. Only the learned may deal with demons.”
“Come out of him!” commanded the princely man, stooping to touch the demoniac.
On his face was a kindly smile, nevertheless, but they saw not his eyes, for he was looking downward.
Wild was the shriek that came back, as if in a fiercer spasm of inward pain, but a voice followed it, saying:
“I know thee, who thou art, thou Jesus of Nazareth! Thou holy one of God!”
Again he said, “Come out of him!” and it was as if some unseen being called out loudly in an unknown tongue and fled away.
Then arose from the ground the man in whom the evil spirit had been dwelling, and he stood erect, unharmed, like other men.
“A great rabbi!” whispered Ben Ezra. “One of the learned, from Jerusalem. Thou mayest not speak to him while he is healing.”
“He that fled called him a son of Odin,” replied Ulric. “He looketh like one.”
“He may be one of the gods of this land,” muttered Wulf the Skater. “I like him not. He commandeth evil spirits and they obey him. I am glad the jarl is also a son of Odin.”
“I am glad to have seen a god,” replied Knud the Bear. “He is nobler than other men. Let us see what he will do to that crippled one.”
Bent and deformed, as if his arms and legs had little shape left them, was this man whom his friends now half led, half carried, before this rabbi of the Jews.
“Canst thou do anything for him?” asked one. “He hath been thus from his birth.”
No answer made the man Jesus, but he laid his hand upon the arm of the crippled one.
“Odin!” exclaimed Ulric. “Look! He can stand upon his feet! He lifteth his hands! Thou art right, Ben Ezra. It were evil for me to speak. The cripple singeth! He is praising his god, and well he may.”
“Go thou to the priest at Jerusalem,” he heard the rabbi from Nazareth say to each in turn of the men who had been cured. “See thou tell no man.”
“What meaneth he?” thought Ulric. “Have not all we seen with our own eyes this which hath been done? I would I were healed of something, then would I know what is this secret between them and their god. He is a strong one. What will Ben Ezra now say about his Jehovah? I think this may be a stronger god, for Jehovah doth not well guard the Jews from the Romans.”
But there stood the rabbi, Jesus, and he was saying many things to the multitude. Clear was his voice and deep, and they who were not near him needed not to lose a word that he was saying.
“I understand him not,” muttered Sigurd. “I am glad to have seen him, but he is not like our gods of the North. It is time we were marching, O jarl.”
“Haste then,” added Ben Ezra. “This Jesus is a learned rabbi, and he healeth, but the swords of the Romans are not far behind us.”
“I would have speech with him before I go,” said Ulric to Ben Ezra. “What is this that he saith concerning unending life? Do we not all die? Do we not all go to the gods? He is lying. It is not good for a son of Odin to lie.”
“Speak to him not,” said Ben Ezra. “He is touching the sick. Never before have I seen a rabbi like this.”
“He is of the seed of David,” said a short, dark man who stood near. “He is the Christ that was to come. He is yet to be our King. I am one of his disciples. I shall be a prince when he is crowned.”
“Thou a prince?” said Ulric. “Thou lookest not like a captain of warriors. What couldst thou do in a feast of swords?”
The short man shrank away chinking a small bag that was attached to his belt, and his black eyes were glittering with anger.
“If I were a king,” said Ulric, “I would find me better captains than he. I like not his face. He loveth his bag too well. Come on, now!”
The order went to his Saxons, but at that moment he heard the rabbi saying: “Let him sell all that he hath and come and follow me. So shall he have treasure in the heavens.”
“Where are they, Ben Ezra?” asked the jarl.
“No man knoweth,” replied Ben Ezra. “I think they are above the sky. It is the place of our people. Thou art a heathen and they have no part with Israel.”
“I go to Valhalla and to the city of Asgard,” said Ulric. “To the city of the gods. I want no treasure in any place of the Jews. Thou mayest have thy heavens to thyself. Lead on!”
Nevertheless, Ulric strode forward and stood for a moment before the rabbi looking him in the face.
“O thou of the sons of the gods,” he said, “I also am of the line of Odin. I think thou wouldst make a leader of men. I will fight for thee if thou wilt.”
“Thou art not far from the kingdom,” said the rabbi, smiling wonderfully. “Go thou thy
way, for thou wilt see me again. Thou wilt come unto me in the day in which I shall call thee.”
“That will I!” exclaimed Ulric with an energy that was sudden. “But I think thou wilt need all the Saxons if thou art to contend with Cæsar. It will be a great battle when his legions meet thee. I have slain many Romans already. I am thy man.”
“Thou knowest not yet what thou art,” replied the rabbi, “but the Saxons also are my people. I shall send for them.”
“That do thou,” said Ulric; “and I, Ulric the Jarl, the son of Brander the Brave, the son of Odin, I will lead them for thee, for I am a jarl and a sea king. Fare thee well.”
No answer made the rabbi, for he turned to speak to a woman in the crowd, and Ulric turned to walk away with Ben Ezra.
“The Romans will slay him,” said Ben Ezra. “Thou wert imprudent. I wonder much. Can this be the Christ that is to come?”
“Who, then, is he?” asked Ulric, and as they went onward the Jew told him many things that were hard to understand.
“It seemeth to me,” said the jarl at last, “that thou speakest a saga that Hilda of the hundred years told me in my childhood. Odin is to return bringing the gods with him, and some say he hath returned already and that he who saileth far enough to the eastward and southward may find Asgard. I must see this city, Jerusalem, and its temple, for now I do know that thy Jehovah is a god like Thor or Odin.”
“He is the greatest of all gods,” said Ben Ezra stoutly, “but this rabbi cannot be the Christ. He is but a healer, and there have been many who wrought cures and cast out demons.”
“I would he had been with us in The Sword,” replied Ulric, “in the day when the evil spirit took possession of my vikings. But he could have done nothing against the Nornir and the valkyrias. Even Odin could not prevent their calling. It was the time for those men to die.”
“I heard this demon that was cast out by the rabbi,” said Ben Ezra, “but I did not see him. I wonder what he is like?”
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