So spoke with himself the grim centurion, the near friend of Pontius the Spearman, considering the affairs of princes and of kingdoms. He walked on, thinking deeply, and ere long he was at the palace by the seashore. A legionary stood guard at the portal, but no Saxons were to be seen.
If one had walked with these at this hour, he would have been at a place from which might be seen the walls of Capernaum. Along the beach were boats and sailing vessels, larger and smaller, and out upon the sea were many fishermen. At the water side were some who spread out a net to dry, but above them, on the high ground, had gathered rapidly a mingled concourse of people. Said one of the net dryers to another:
“The rabbi of Nazareth is there. He healeth the people. Only John is with him. We ought not to be here. Let us go to him.”
“Did he not bid us go a-fishing?” replied another. “We have caught many. It is enough. Let us go.”
So left they their net and went up the bank, and as they went they heard the voice of the rabbi preaching to the multitude. They listened, hastening, and they spoke no more to each other. All utterances were stilled save the wonderful voice of the preacher, the music of the waves upon the beach, and the low, painful mutterings of one man who hobbled along upon crutches as if to join the gathering.
“O that I am to be maimed!” he said. “I, Ulric, the son of Brander! That I shall no more walk firmly! The tendons and the muscles of my limbs refuse to heal, as if the tiger’s claws were poisonous. What thinkest thou, Wulf the Skater? Shall we not go on and see this man?”
“Thou art faint, O jarl,” said Wulf. “It is not well that thou hast walked so far. I fear thou wilt but cure the more slowly. One goeth by us! Look at him! Hear him! He is a leper!”
“Unclean! Unclean! Unclean!” a hoarse and croaking sound came to their ears from the ulcered, shriveled lips of him at whom Wulf pointed.
Behind him were four who carried a sick one in a litter, but they held back, not overtaking the leper.
“Come!” said Ulric. “I would look into the face of this god once more. We may hear another of the demons. I have much curiosity concerning them. Put thy arm around me and aid me on.”
“Woe is me, son of Brander,” moaned Wulf, but his strong arm went around the waist of his jarl and they walked along.
“Unclean! Unclean! Unclean!” the terrible voice repeated, but on the brow of a little knoll the rabbi of Nazareth stood and ceased not his preaching.
All around him were men and women, the old and the young, but these stepped suddenly away, as if in fear, while the leper came toward them.
“He hath no right!” exclaimed one.
“Touch him not! Breathe not his breath,” said another, “lest thou become leprous!”
Down knelt the leper, but the rabbi ceased speaking and looked upon him kindly.
“What wilt thou?” he asked.
“That I might be clean,” gasped the leper.
“Be thou clean!” said Jesus.
“O jarl!” exclaimed Wulf. “What is this? He standeth erect! He is strengthening! Would almost that thou wert a Jew, for their god is a strong healer.”
“Come!” said Ulric. “He hath cured this leper. I will have speech with him. Nearer! I walk more easily. My hurts cease to pain as they did. O Wulf, aid me strongly, that I may get to him. Pass me on! I breathe more freely! I strengthen! I fail not! Fear thou not for me that this shall do me harm!”
“O jarl!” said Wulf. “This is but a sudden strength that cometh to thee. Afterward thou wilt fall!”
“On! On!” exclaimed the jarl. “I have somewhat to say that I had forgotten. I must speak!”
Near were they now, and the rabbi of Nazareth again ceased speaking as he looked upon the white face of the jarl, but the crutches of Ulric had fallen from his hands and the arm of Wulf seemed still to uphold him.
“O thou Jesus, of the sons of the gods,” said the jarl. “Sigurd, the son of Thorolf, hath fallen in battle with robbers, many of whom he slew. He bade me that I should see thee again and bring thee his greeting.”
“O rabbi of the Jews!” exclaimed Wulf the Skater, earnestly, “it is Ulric, the son of Brander the Brave, of the Northland. His gods are not thy gods, for he is a son of Odin, whom thou knowest not. But he is our jarl and we love him. We pray thee that thou wilt ask of thy god for him that his hurts may be healed and that he may become strong to lead us, for we are but as lost children without him.”
As yet Jesus answered not, but the jarl stood firmly upon his feet and stepped one step nearer, Wulf stepping with him, but of the other Saxons was none with them.
“O rabbi,” said Ulric, “I was torn by wild beasts in the arena of Tiberias. I slew both the lion and the tiger, while they were tearing each other. And now I shall be no more a warrior, for my sword falleth from my hand.” As he spoke he held out the hand which had been so strong, and which was now so weak, and it was touched by the outstretched hand of this rabbi of Nazareth.
“Go, thou,” he said. “Be thou healed. And remember thou that which thou hast this day seen and heard. Speak not again now.”
Wulf the Skater took up the crutches, but the jarl put them away, saying:
“Hath he not bidden us to go our way? Shall we not now do as he hath said? Come! I walk as if I had not been torn. He is a god!”
“O jarl,” whispered Wulf, trembling, “what meaneth he? I understand him not. And what is this strange thing which hath come upon thee, as if thou wert a Jew? I think his god is a good god and very strong.”
But both he and Ulric stepped backward and the rabbi and the man who was leprous stood face to face.
“Silence, Wulf the Skater!” whispered Ulric. “The god hath spoken to me as to this one. I have looked into his face. What he hath said I know not, but I go to Caius quickly. Where thou art commanded well do thou obey lest evil befall thee.”
“Clean! Clean!” sprang from the lips of the healed leper. “Hallelujah! I glorify the god of Abraham. This man is a great rabbi!”
“He is of the sons of the gods, thou stupid one!” said Ulric. “I am healed. Who but a god can cure the scratch of a lion or a tiger? He is as Odin, and I think they are friends, and that Odin bade him heal me. I will fight for him when he gathereth his army. O Wulf the Skater, come! My arm telleth me that I could cast a spear. O thou of Nazareth, thank thy father for me, for thou wilt see him before I do. When I am slain I shall go to Asgard and I will meet him there, and I hope to meet thee. Also, in thine hour, thou shalt be my captain.”
“Go now!” said Jesus, turning to a sick one.
“He meaneth he will send for thee,” said Wulf, walking on at the side of Ulric. “But we need more Saxons for his army if he is to overcome the Roman legionaries. He would do well to gather the sea kings and all the men of the fiords and of the forests. Even from Denmark and the islands we might bring to him good fighters. How well could a captain keep his army if he might heal all who were but hurt, losing only the heroes for whom the valkyrias had come.”
“I walk more strongly!” said Ulric. “I would be where I may look at myself, for the marks were deep and they ran as sores. We will go with Caius to Jerusalem. I think it well for us that we guard him.”
“O jarl,” said Wulf, “a friend is a friend, but a Roman valueth a Saxon only for his sword and for his spear. I have thought, indeed, that he might yet give one of us a chance to kill this Julius. I shall not be fully contented until I have seen his blood upon a blade of steel.”
As a man in a dream walked Ulric, the son of Brander. With him, looking at him as they went, walked Wulf the Skater, and now other men drew near.
“How is it with the jarl?” asked Knud the Bear. “He hath no crutches this day.”
“He walketh strongly,” said Tostig the Red. “His face is ruddy and his eye is bright. Thou hast been with him, O Wulf; what is this?”
“The son of Odin hath had speech with this god of the Jews,” slowly responded Wulf. “I myself asked for his healing, b
ut the sons of the gods are not like other men. Hold ye your peace, for the jarl was bidden to tell no man.”
“Let him alone, then,” said Tostig. “It is enough that he walketh so well. But yonder is the centurion, Julius, talking with Caius.”
“I am to slay him yet,” said Wulf. “Watch ye, for we belong to Caius.”
Enough of Saxon knew their master to gather that saying, and it pleased him well, for he turned and saw blue eyes that flashed a little, and dark eyes that seemed to ask his bidding.
“There is truth in these Saxons!” he said to himself. “Were I to command the death of Julius, he were dead this hour.”
But at that moment the voice of Julius rose in a sound of chiding.
“O Caius,” he said, “I did indeed pay my wagers, as became me, but thy Saxon died and the payment should be restored to me. If the lion and the tiger slew him, the wager is void.”
“Justly spoken, O my friend,” replied Caius; “but knowest thou this man, or is he dead?”
Then turned Julius, wondering, for before him stood the son of Brander smiling in a mockery, and saying:
“Hael to thee, O Julius, the captain! Hast thou any wild beasts with thee this day? I am Ulric the Jarl!”
Proud and strong he stood, with the sunlight upon his golden curls and the strength of a hero showing in his movements, but the centurions, both of them, stared at him as if they were in amazement.
“Thou art not dead?” said Julius.
“O jarl, let him take thy hand,” said Caius. “Let him be sure of thee that thou art well.”
“O Caius,” said his enemy, “thy swordsman liveth. I have been misinformed. But how were his wounds that they have healed?”
“Scratches!” said Caius. “I have care for my gladiators after a fight that they may be ready again. Hast thou any to put against him for a thousand sesterces, man for man?”
“That have not I!” exclaimed Julius, looking hard at Ulric. “He hath cost me enough!”
Then, also, for he was cunning, he understood the looks of the other Saxons, closing around the jarl lovingly, and he ground his teeth, for the thought in his mind was: “They would slay half a cohort of my dwarfs. They would slay me, if Caius bade them. I would I had such a bodyguard that knew nothing but mine own will.”
So thought Caius in his mind, silently, but he said aloud:
“O Julius, now the games are ended, and my mission to thee from Pontius is fulfilled, I will set out on the morrow for Jerusalem. The winter is here. What sayest thou?”
“The gods go with thee!” said Julius. “Also, if thou art wise, take with thee thy swordsmen. Thou wilt be safe by the way.”
So he and Caius walked on by themselves toward the palace and the Saxons gathered gladly around their jarl, feeling of his wounds that were healed and wondering greatly at his meeting with this son of the unseen god of the Jews.
* * *
CHAPTER XXIX. Beautiful as Aphrodite.
AT THE DAMASCUS GATE of the city of Jerusalem halted a weary-seeming ass, upon whose back was a dusty and travel-worn rider.
“Wonderful indeed is the grandeur of this city,” he had said, as his jaded beast toiled up the road from the bridge over the Kidron. “I would willingly have paused longer upon the Mount of Olives, but the lash of the procurator is close behind all who ride upon his errands. Somewhere in this city of the temple is my Sapphira even now, but how shall she be made to know that I am here? Not now, but I will climb over all barriers, even these great walls and forts, until I find her.”
At the gate was a Roman guard, and to the sentinel on post rode Lysias, saying:
“O guard! From the procurator to the captain of the gate! In haste! I am Lysias, a messenger, with a token in writing. I may not dismount until he cometh.”
The soldier saluted ceremoniously the name and authority of the procurator, but he stirred not from his place. He did but shout loudly, and an officer came forth, to whom the Greek repeated his utterances.
“Sit thou in thy saddle,” said the officer. “I may not touch that which is in thy keeping. But the centurion cometh shortly—the captain to whom thou art commanded to make thy delivery.”
No word spoke Lysias to the important man when he came, but the subofficer made the announcement and the parcel from Pontius the Spearman was placed in the right hands.
“O messenger,” he said, “dismount. Thy beast is worn out. So art thou. He will be kept for thee in the stables of the procurator. Thou, too, wilt have refreshment. Rest thee and be ready when thy return message shall be prepared.”
Here ended for the present the dangerous responsibilities of Lysias, but in no manner had he yet escaped from the grip which had been put upon him. The lodgings to which he was speedily conducted were as a jail of secure detention and from them he might not think of going forth, lest evil should befall him. He might but eat and sleep while his next duties were in course of preparation. Nevertheless rest was sweet, and his dreams were free to wander where they would, seeking a fair face and welcoming eyes which might not now be far away.
Early upon the morrow he was summoned to come forth, and he was led to the Damascus gate without having had speech with any save with soldiers who were as his jailers. Here a saddled horse of Arabia awaited him and also a high official, whom he knew not, and the captain of the gate, whom he had already seen.
“Hear thou with care, O messenger,” said the latter, sternly, handing to him sealed parchments. “This first to the procurator, from me. These from the high priest and from the captain of the temple. I give thee, also, a spoken message, which may not be written, for thee to deliver and then to forget; for thou art of the household of the procurator, and he trusteth thee. Were another to hear these words, lost were his head and thine. Slain is the secret messenger of Herod, and he went not to Cæsar. Caius of Thessalonica is in Galilee watching Julius, the subtle, who plotteth, also, with Herod and with Herod Antipas. Caius may die there, or ere he returneth, but he is trustworthy. Well were it that the procurator should now leave his inspection of the garrisons and of Samaria until a better day and that he should now return to Jerusalem. Go!”
Words in reply or questioning might not be spoken. Lysias sprang upon the Arabian horse, the letters being hidden in his bosom. Away he rode down into the valley of the Kidron, thinking within himself: “Great is the peril to him who carrieth the secrets of rulers. Sure is my death if I do not this errand well, and yet the very doing of it may bring a sword upon me. And now I am indeed of the household of Pontius, wherein is hidden my Sapphira. Surely Venus and Juno are with me, and Mercurius himself hath given me this fleet stallion to ride. He goeth like the wind.”
The remainder of that day went by, and the night also came and went. Not any did the messenger have speech with but seemed ready to speed him and glad to see him go from them, as if in having met him might bide a future peril. It was only in the forenoon of the next day, however, that his Arabian steed was halted in the middle of the northward highway, and before him in a gilded chariot sat Pontius, the procurator, reading slowly and thoughtfully the letters delivered to him by the Greek.
“Thou hast done well,” he said. “Thou art a speedy messenger. Was there aught else?”
“Here are ears near thee, most noble Pontius,” replied Lysias. “I pray thee bid me be prudent.”
Down from the chariot sprang the procurator with a fierce flush upon his face.
“Dismount thee! Come!” he said. “Back, all! I would have speech with this man.”
Not far behind the chariot, but not as if they belonged to the same company, rode two men upon asses, of whom one said to the other:
“A messenger, O Ben Ezra. There may be tidings of importance. What sayest thou?”
“Silence! O Abbas,” replied the other, “thus far our god hath befriended us upon our way. Trifle not with the business of the great lest the sword seek thee. Thou art overcurious. Let it suffice that we are permitted to travel under guard of the p
rocurator’s horsemen.”
At the roadside now stood he and the Greek and none dared approach them, for the spear of Pontius was in his hand and his brow was dark. “Speak with care!” he said to Lysias. “Forget not!”
“Thus said the captain of the gate,” replied Lysias, “and a centurion who stood by him and who gave me this cornelian for a token, telling me not his name——”
“Cornelius of Cæsarea!” muttered Pontius, but the Greek spoke on, uttering exactly the words which had been given him.
“It is well,” he said. “I have word of Caius that he is wise and that his Saxon swordsmen are his bodyguard. More than one secret messenger hath been slain, saith Ben Ezra, the bringer of tidings from Galilee. Trust him, but not the Jew Abbas who is with him, for he is of Julius. I come to Jerusalem quickly. I will give thee a fresh horse in the morning and thou wilt again return, but thou wilt wait for me in mine own house. Go, now, and speak to these Jews, questioning them. What they say thou wilt tell me. It is well that thou wilt be in the school of Gamaliel and also in the service of the procurator, but let no man know of more than of the school.”
The strong man is often in desire of a willing servitor, and it pleased Pontius that the eyes of the Greek brightened with delight. His lips parted also, but the word “Sapphira” that was upon them was not uttered aloud.
The ruler turned and walked away to his chariot and Lysias remounted his weary horse.
“I must be cunning with these Jews,” he thought; “and in one of them is my deadly peril.”
The train passed on and they were riding at his side.
“Who art thou?” he asked of Ben Ezra.
There was no sign of recognition in the face of his former comrade upon the good ship The Sword.
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