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Ulric the Jarl

Page 29

by William Stoddard


  Loudly rang again the piercing shrieks while he was speaking, and his hard face widened into a grim smile, as if the sounds pleased him. But Lysias shuddered and his blood ran cold, and he wheeled away to gallop out of hearing of those terrible outcries.

  “No Roman may be crucified,” he exclaimed. “These are not Romans. To them all other men are less than brutes. I will watch that captain of the temple; but whither should I flee from the pursuit of a procurator’s executioner?”

  Under such fear as this dwelt all who were governed by the servants of Cæsar, and yet it was said that the common people were more sure of justice than from any other rulers if they remained quiet and paid all taxes without murmuring.

  “I will risk all!” shouted Lysias, “if I may but once more look into the blue eyes of my Sapphira, for I know she loveth me!”

  The sun went down as he rode, and the shadows came, and through the shadows he galloped on, but now and then it seemed to him as if the shrieks from Golgotha were ringing warningly in his ears.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXXII. The Mob of Samaria.

  THE CITY OF JEZREEL was for Caius of Thessalonica and his train but a resting place for a night. After leaving behind its towers and the valley of battles, at the side of which it seemed to be posted as a sentinel, Ulric the Jarl himself was satisfied with the speed of the going which brought him to Samaria.

  Here, also, as they drew near, the Saxons noted well the fortifications.

  “These walls are old,” said one. “Those of Tiberias are newer and better. I care not for walls. Better is it to fight in the open field, where swordsmen may come together, shield to shield, in a fair combat.”

  Tostig the Red heard, and he shouted loudly:

  “O jarl, not walls! Rather would I have a good keel like The Sword than any fort. Towers and walls rest where they are builded, but a ship may sail into new seas. I am hungry for the sea!”

  “I like not the land at all!” said Knud the Bear. “Never again may I be found so far from the rush of waves. I am minded to seek me a keel ere long. I think we shall all die if we may not again see the Northland.”

  He did but speak for all. While they had been inactive on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, and even more after setting out as if to find new adventures, the vikings had returned in their hearts to their old manner of living. They had thought continually of the sea and of ships. They had talked together of the cruise of The Sword and of all the strange things which had befallen them by the way in which they came to this country. They had also told many tales of the great deeds of sea kings, but there had been no minstrel or saga woman with them to sing them a saga or to play for them upon a harp. Often, also, did their conversings deal with the Northland itself in its summer beauty. They longed for the high mountains and the shadowy coolness of the fiords, and for the faces of men and of women and of children on the shores and about the houses. There is ever a kind of sickness which cometh upon brave men in the thinking of such thoughts and in the talking of such remembrances afar. So these vikings, who were all that remained of the mighty crew of The Sword, were not only weary at heart, but almost sick in body.

  “A keel?” said Wulf the Skater to Knud. “Thou wilt find thee a keel? Wert thou in thine own seas now thou wouldst find them closed against thee. Beautiful would be the ice to look upon. But I think I could make me good skates and reach the fiords over the floes.”

  So said other Saxons, and they did but look listlessly at the walls of Samaria.

  “O jarl,” said Caius from his chariot, “come thou hither to me. I have a word for thee.”

  Ulric rode to the side of the chariot.

  “What aileth thy men,” asked the centurion, “that their faces are so cloudy? Are they discontented?”

  “Not with thee, O noble Caius,” laughed Ulric, “but they are ill at ease on horseback and in peace. They would rather fight for thee than travel like pleasure-seekers. One man is ever afraid that, if this continueth, he may die in his bed and go to Hel instead of to Valhalla.”

  Stern yet pleasant was the countenance of the centurion.

  “I understand thy men,” he said. “Let them be posted in the doorway of the house where I abide this night. I have no others here whom I may trust, and this is a city of the enemies of the procurator.”

  “Thou mayest sleep safely,” said Ulric. “I will myself keep that house.”

  “Thy men could not be bribed,” said Caius. “I know that of them.”

  “They have too many coins already,” said Ulric. “But I bade them keep all and spend them at Jerusalem. No man need offer them any more. As to treachery, let thine enemy speak of that to Tostig the Red, but first let the seax of Tostig be taken from him.”

  “I will leave it at his belt,” said Caius, “and he may strike with it in such a case. But be not thou overhasty with a man of rank, for thou wilt be held accountable.”

  “I will be prudent,” said Ulric; “but how is it with thy legionaries? If they are on post, is it not life and death with them?”

  “Men have died suddenly,” said Caius, “with a legionary motionless at the outer door. He stirred not, being as a pillar of wood. Thy men will be free, and will act as if they were hunters of game instead of statues. Thy head is as good as thy hand.”

  “I will keep thee,” said Ulric, “and I would that the men might have a chance to draw a sword or throw a spear.”

  “They will not,” said Caius. “There are no men in Samaria who would trifle with such a guard as thy Saxons. Think not but what I will remember thee for this matter.”

  The jarl reined away his horse, thinking deeply.

  “O Caius, do I not know that thou art as other Romans? So soon as thou art done with us thou wouldst give us to the lions and look on while we were torn, being amused. Soft words are well enough, however, and thou art better than are some of thy people.”

  For the jarl grew crafty under the burden of leadership, and he seemed older than when he stood with Hilda on the shore of the North sea looking at her runes upon the sand.

  A large house like a castle near the eastern wall of the city was assigned to so great a man as Caius, but he went the next day to a feast, being entertained by the governor and other notables, among whom were certain lords of Herod’s household.

  “It will be late when I return,” he said to Ulric at his going. “I will send for thee.”

  “Not so,” said the jarl. “I will come without thy sending. There have been tumults in Samaria since the sun’s rising. There will be good spears around thy chariot.”

  “Do as thou wilt, O jarl,” said Caius. “I fear no tumult and I have good attendance.”

  “Hast thou indeed a guard, and is it not from this man, the governor?” said Ulric. “Leave thou such matters to me, I pray thee, that thou mayest at all reach Jerusalem.”

  The chariot of the centurion rolled away from the palace gate, and with it rode a score of mounted soldiers sent by the governor as a guard of honor for his distinguished guest. Hardly were they out of sight, however, before the Saxons sprang to their feet at a sudden summons.

  “Spears and shields!” commanded the jarl. “Let every man look well to his weapons and to his armor. Be ye all ready to march, but first let every man come to me and report whatever things he hath heard or seen this day.”

  One had this thing to speak of and another that thing, but for the greater part it all seemed to be of little worth. Their eyes, too, had been better than their ears in a city of an unknown tongue. Nevertheless, the jarl said to Wulf the Skater:

  “Thou hast scented this danger, then, thou keen old hunter? So is it with me, only that I better understand sayings uttered in my hearing, and some who spoke believed that I was as a stone wall, having no ears. They were, therefore, careless. I will say to thee that the soldiers who are now with Caius are all from this new legion wherein Julius was for a while the chief officer. It is for our interest that Caius may suffer no harm. Moreover, we may have
some good fighting, and that is worth while.”

  “Thank the gods!” interrupted Knud the Bear. “Now may I the more comfortably eat my supper. It is well to have a thoughtful jarl.”

  A city by itself was Samaria, as it had been during long centuries. They who called themselves Samaritans bore deadly hatred to all Jews, but could not prevent them from entering the city and transacting business there, although they could have no dealings with the Samaritans. All other nationalities came and went freely, and here was a gathering of the offscourings of the earth. The Jews risk all perils for the sake of traffic, and they had in this matter the protection of the Roman laws. Nevertheless, these hatreds were the root of many troubles, and from time to time there had been bloody riots to be suppressed by the legionaries with but small care upon whom their swords might fall. It might have been trusted that a Roman of rank like Caius would be as safe in Samaria as in Jerusalem or in Rome, and so he would have been but for the intrigues of those who were greater than he. Herod Archelaus, to whom Judea and Samaria had fallen by the will of his father, Herod the Great, had forfeited his realm to the Romans and it was now ruled by Pontius the Spearman. Both the Herod of the Black Castle, whose legacy had been Galilee and some provinces beyond the Dead Sea, and Herod Antipas, who had inherited large districts at the north and east of Galilee, were plotting to overthrow Pontius and also to defeat each other. The favor of Cæsar was the path to increase of power not only for them, but for Roman plotters such as Julius, and there were intrigues against them all at Rome itself. The strifes of those who fought continually for the spoils of Roman conquests were ever records of bloodshed, and no man’s life was safe. To be a great Roman was to walk on toward destruction.

  Splendid was the feast to which Caius went at the palace of the governor of Samaria, but he was wary and he did not become drunken. Long reclined the guests on the couches at the tables, to be served with all the delicacies of the earth. Also there were dancers and mimes and musicians. But the end came. Some were to abide in the palace, some were to go to their houses near, in the city. The chariot of Caius waited for him, but as he and his slaves walked out at the main portal they heard a sound of trumpets and great outcries of a multitude.

  “It is nothing,” said Caius. “I heard that the rabble had risen against the Jews. Let the legionaries form in the road. Drive on!”

  He spoke scornfully, but the outcries were near, and now came a great rush of men, of whom many were armed. In front of the governor’s palace was an open space, into which the multitude was pouring, but from the opposite direction came forward another throng of men. In the foreranks of these was a small man in armor, with the visor of his helmet closed.

  “Yonder is the chariot of Caius,” he said. “Wait only till the Iberians charge. Then slay him and flee. Let the blame fall on the Jews and the Samaritans.”

  Two score were the legionaries, and it was the governor, standing upon the steps of the palace portal, who shouted to them:

  “Charge ye the mob lest they hinder the going of my guest. Slay them! O most noble Caius, I send out also quickly my own guards and servants. Thou art safe!”

  If this were indeed the craft of the governor, it was well hidden, for the soldiers went forward smiting all in their way, and armed men from the palace went also. By this very charge, however, the chariot would have been left alone save for Caius and his charioteers and a few mounted bondsmen. Not in the silken robes of a man at a feast was the centurion at this moment, nevertheless. The robes were to be seen in the light of the torches, but they covered good mail and armor, and suddenly upon his head was a helmet and in his hand a pilum.

  “Treachery!” he shouted. “The jarl was correct! O for my Saxons!”

  “Here, O Caius!” loudly responded a voice from among the shadows of the palace front. “Halt not thy chariot, but drive slowly. We have abundant javelins.”

  The torches held by the bondsmen flared in swinging, more being lighted, and past them seemed to go dull red flashes, but these were the bright blades of Syrian darts obtained by Ulric for this business. Strong were the arms hurling, and the darts were better than arrows at so short a distance.

  “Jupiter Tonans!” roared Caius. “I have a sheaf of them here in the chariot, for myself and my charioteers. Wise is the Saxon, and he provided them for me!”

  A good thrower was he, and some who had stealthily crept on too nearly were smitten as they sprang forward. Then came the charge which had been purposed across the open space, but between its front and the chariot was a wall of Saxons, in full armor, shouting with the fierce joy of battle.

  Down went the small leader, cloven to the jaws as if his helmet were of wood. Down went his companions rapidly, while the battle laughter of the vikings rang derisively in their ears.

  The other multitude the legionaries were slaughtering pitilessly, but the command of the governor had been to follow, and the soldiers came not back at once.

  “Slay! Slay!” shouted Caius. “I come!”

  “Come not!” replied Ulric. “Abide where thou art and press on to thy house. We will keep these wolves at bay.”

  “A fight and I not in it?” said Caius, angrily. “Commandest thou me?”

  “In the fight I am jarl!” said Ulric. “I am answerable for thy head. Drive on!”

  “Thou art right!” said Caius, justly. “On, O charioteer! Obey thou the Saxon. I forgot that he is a prince and a captain among his own people. I will make him a Roman yet. He should not be a barbarian.”

  Hardly might any less than a king, nor even a king except at great cost and for policy, obtain Roman citizenship, but this was the meaning of the words of Caius.

  Then an arrow flew and struck him upon the left arm, wounding him; but he mentioned it not, for he saw that the charge was broken and that the Saxons came to march with the chariot.

  “Not one of them is missing,” he thought. “So much for broad shields and good mail. The rioters had weapons, but no armor, and they were slain as cattle. This arm of mine is but scratched.”

  “On!” commanded the jarl, to his men. “I heard the centurion say he is wounded. O Caius, how art thou?”

  “A sting on my arm,” replied Caius. “We shall soon be at the house. This is naught.”

  “Let me see it speedily,” said Ulric. “I have picked up an arrow with a grooved head. Thou knowest what that meaneth.”

  “Haste! Haste!” shouted Caius. “This thing is of Herod, the jackal! I am lost.”

  But the tumult had been stricken to quiet and the ground was strewn with the dead. Now as they went there came swiftly armed horsemen of the governor and behind these marched the Iberian legionaries. No visible fault might be charged by Caius upon his host of the feast. Not far was it to his place of abiding, but when the chariot halted there he sprang down and entered in a gloomy silence, followed by the jarl.

  “Home, now,” commanded the officer of the legionaries. “Our duty is done.”

  Back with them went all servants of the governor, but Caius was in an inner room removing his armor.

  “I wore no armlets,” he said, “lest the governor might see them. The arrow went past my shield while I threw a spear. Thou hast done well, O Saxon chief. But for thee I had been murdered. This is a small wound.”

  “I will suck it for thee before I bind it,” said Ulric. “Then watch thou if it beginneth to burn, but set thou out hence before dawn.”

  “That will I this hour,” said Caius, and orders went forth.

  Great was the declared wrath of the governor of Samaria, for he came himself to inquire concerning the welfare of his guest. Not to him was anything said of a groove in an arrow wherein might be pressed some deadly juice, and he returned to his palace a seeming friend of Caius, complaining bitterly of the Jews and Samaritans, more of whom he threatened to slaughter for this night’s business.

  Ulric cared for his men. They had cuts and bruises which they made light of, but among them was no arrow wound. So light a missi
le would have been stopped by a leathern hauberk, and all their mail was of the highest temper of steel.

  “We will ride soon,” he told them. “Be ready to mount and leave this place of thieves.”

  “I like it well!” exclaimed Knud the Bear. “It was not a hard fight, as if these fellows had been Danes or Northmen, but I cleft many skulls and I think Wulf the Skater killed a score of them. Tostig was unlucky, and Ven, the son of Gerta, slew more Samaritans that he did.”

  “He did not,” said Wulf. “Thy counting is not good. And I slew two men in armor also.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXXIII. The House of Pontius the Spearman.

  THE ROAD FROM SAMARIA to Jerusalem hath many windings and there are hills to weary the wayfarer. Climbing one of these slowly was the chariot of Caius of Thessalonica. He was lying heavily upon the back seat, as one to whom this journey had become an insupportable burden.

  “This long day draweth to its close, O jarl,” he said to the horseman nearest him on the right. “The roads are worse to pass than were those of yesterday. We are now on the level near the ridge of the Mount of Olives. Soon we may see the city. My arm burneth and it is swelling.”

  “I would we were already with thy learned physician,” replied Ulric. “Be of better cheer. I know little of such matters, but I think thou doest well. I will offer sacrifices for thee in this temple of the Jews. Hast thou ever done aught against their god? He is revengeful.”

  “I have not harmed him,” said Caius. “I have not slain Jews. Do as thou wilt, for at this time there is no other god in Jerusalem. I will pay for thy oxen and Pontius will command the priests to offer them upon his altar. Thinkest thou, O Saxon, that any god hath power to heal the wound made by a poisoned arrow?”

  “That I know not,” said Ulric. “I have often wondered much what the gods may do. One of them healed me of my hurts from the tiger of Julius. Such a god might cast out a poison. He casteth out demons and he healed a leper. He opened the eyes of a blind man. I would that he were now in Jerusalem and that thou mightest look into his face. Also I must offer sacrifices of thanks for that matter. It is not right to obtain a gift from any god and then not to keep faith with him. A god should be dealt with as if he were a brave warrior.”

 

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