Ulric the Jarl

by William Stoddard

  Slowly through the throng he went back to Caius at the pillar against which he had been faintly leaning.

  “O Caius,” he said, “I did ask him. Thou wilt yet speak to him for thyself.”

  “Jarl of the Saxons,” exclaimed Caius, “I go now to my chariot. Speak not. Seest thou not that I am standing firmly? The pain of the hurt hath departed! But here came one with a commandment from the procurator bidding thee to his house with speed. Delay not thy going, and deal with him as thou wouldst deal with me. I thank thee and I thank the rabbi. Go!”

  “O gladiator, come thou in haste!” said one in the raiment of a bondservant who stood near. “The thing is important!”

  “Tell him I come,” said Ulric. “Wait not. I go not in thy company. But glad am I, O Caius, my friend, if thou art healed of the poison.”

  “That I know not,” said Caius; “but the burning ceaseth. Return thou soon to me.”

  “O most noble Caius,” said Ulric, “I think this matter of the procurator is already known to me. If I see thee not again, may all be well with thee!”

  His countenance was bright and his step was firm and he turned away from Caius, going toward the outer entrance of the court of the women. The distance was but short, and here under the portico waited the veiled one.

  “Art thou here?” she said. “Hast thou indeed seen him? I spoke to him concerning thee and he told me thou wouldst surely follow him.”

  “I know not that,” he said, “but lift thy veil, O Miriam, that I may see thee—this last seeing. I go hence to death, but O that to thee might come life and joy forever!”

  Her unveiled face before him was white with terror and with agony.

  “O my beloved, what sayest thou?” she exclaimed. “To thy death?”

  “I will wait for thee in Valhalla,” said the jarl. “I will have a fair house for thee in the city of Asgard. There thou shalt live with me among the gods. I think this Jesus of Nazareth will also be there, for he is a Son of God and he is my friend and thy friend. Go thou to thy house. Fare thee well!”

  Strong and brave grew her face and her form was erect when she responded: “O my beloved, if thou art indeed going now to thy death, then will I also wait and I will come unto thee in thy high place, as thou hast said. From the prophet of Galilee have I heard a new thing concerning those who die, that they have a better country than this and a better city to dwell in. I had not known——”

  “O Miriam,” said Ulric, “it is not new to me. So say all the old sagas of the Northland. This have I been taught by Hilda from my childhood. She also will be there, and all my kindred, with thee and me.”

  None saw, but a swift kiss fell upon her lips and then her veil was drawn, but Ulric went from the portico joyously, exclaiming:

  “I care not now! She may bring me my ruby in the city of the gods, and I, the son of Odin, will keep tryst with her whom I love. O Pontius! O Spearman! O procurator! I will show thee how little a Saxon jarl careth for the edge of a sword.”

  Nevertheless, from that hour onward none saw the jarl, and two days went by. These were days of sorrow and of doubt for Miriam, waiting lonely in the house of Ben Ezra. She indeed went forth veiled to listen to the preaching of the prophet of Galilee, but ever her eyes were searching among the throngs of hearers for one who came not. “O that he might have heard these things also,” she said within her heart. “Did not Ulric himself say that this is the captain who is also his king? How shall he now follow him into any battle? O that it might be!”

  So thought Miriam, praying and weeping, and around her were many other women. “O weeping one,” said one of these, “knowest thou not? The Master himself hath said to us that he is to be crucified!”

  “Crucified!” exclaimed Miriam.

  “Yea,” said the other, “but that in three days he will arise from the dead and that then he will take the kingdom. It is a hard saying.”

  “That the dead rise we do know,” replied Miriam, “but none hath ever seen them after their resurrection. I think this saying is like the words of my beloved concerning the city of the gods where I am to live with him. And he—O God of Israel! Where is he now and what hath befallen him?”

  The evening of that day was set apart for the feast of the Passover. Many were gathered to eat of it at the house of Ben Ezra, for the kinsfolk of Isaac came also to partake of it. The Scriptures were read and hymns and psalms were sung, and they communed sorrowfully concerning the present desolation of their people, the terrors of the Herods, the oppression of the Romans, and their fears of the things which were yet to come upon them. After this some of them slumbered, but not all. There were those who waked and watched, for through all the city had gone a saying of Jesus of Nazareth that he was the Messiah, and that his kingdom was at hand.

  Even the Romans had heard of this saying, but Pontius the Spearman had laughed, for he thought of his forts and his legionaries and he troubled not his mind concerning some unarmed mob of Jewish enthusiasts.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XL. “A Little While.“

  IT WAS TOWARD THE morning of a new day that one came knocking loudly at the door of the house of Ben Ezra.

  “What wilt thou?” asked the porter, partly opening the door and looking forth.

  “Tell thou to those who are within,” was responded, “that the Romans and the chief priests have taken the prophet of Galilee by force. He is now at the palace of the procurator and a great multitude gathereth. I am a kinsman of Isaac, the aged.”

  Several were within hearing and the message passed quickly throughout the house. There was then hurried girding of robes and putting on of sandals.

  “We will go forth,” said Ben Ezra. “I would see what this thing meaneth. He hath done nothing for which he might be taken, either under the law of the Jews or the law of the Romans.”

  Some said one thing and some another, and so it was over the entire city, for great was the tumult which was arising in Jerusalem. It was said that Jesus had been arrested in the night upon the Mount of Olives, beyond the brook Kidron, after he had eaten the Passover in the city with his disciples. Neither he nor they had fought save for a blow or two, and no man had been slain. Jesus had been taken before the high priest and before Herod, the tetrarch, and before the procurator, by whom he was now to be judged, the others not having due authority. The tetrarch was in the city at this season by reason of the Passover, although it was known that he was at enmity with Pontius the Spearman.

  There were many rumors, nor was it easy to determine what report to believe, but when Ben Ezra and Isaac and their company came to the palace of the procurator they saw a strange matter. Outside of the palace was a place which was called the Pavement, and to this, and not into the house, the strictest Jews might advance and not become unclean, to be afterward unfitted for the Passover worship in the temple. Out of this place had been brought a throne chair of the procurator, and in it he now was seated for judgment, surrounded by armed legionaries and men of high degree, as if some matter of importance called for his decision.

  Before him, as one who is accused of some crime and is awaiting decision, stood Jesus of Nazareth, but not as any had ever before seen him. He had been both stripped and scourged, and the soldiers of the procurator, besides beating and mocking him, had derisively arrayed him in a purple robe of royalty; but the crown which they had put upon his head was a torture crown, plaited of thorn-tree twigs.

  The procurator himself now spoke, not to the prisoner before him, but to the surging mob of Jews upon the Pavement and in the street.

  “Behold the man!” he said.

  Then arose an angry roar of many voices, among which the loudest words were:

  “Crucify! Crucify! Crucify!”

  “Take him yourselves and crucify him,” said the procurator, “for I find no crime in him.”

  Then said one to Ben Ezra: “Already he hath been tried and condemned before Herod, the king. Also he hath been well examined and scourged duly by the procurato
r. Let him die!”

  There were many who responded in divers forms of speech to the utterance of the procurator, but a ruler among the Jews shouted loudly:

  “We have a law, and by our law he ought to die, because he made himself the Son of God.”

  When Pontius heard that he arose and went into the palace for a little space, taking the prisoner with him. What further examination was made thus in private the multitude knew not, but when again the procurator came forth, having Jesus brought also, he said to the Jews:

  “Which of these twain shall I release unto you, Bar Abbas, the robber, or Jesus who is called the Christ, the King of the Jews?”

  But they all answered him with shouts of “Bar Abbas!” for among the rabble were many priests and scribes who were stirring them up to do this thing. Other things were said, both by the procurator and the accusers, but it seemed that he would willingly have refrained from doing any further violence to this man.

  “Behold your king!” he said, at last.

  “Away with him! Crucify! Crucify!” came back the tumult of fierce voices.

  “Shall I crucify your king?” he asked.

  “We have no king but Cæsar,” responded one, and another added: “If thou spare him, thou art no friend of Cæsar.”

  Then a servant of the procurator brought out to him a basin of water, and in this he washed his hands, saying to them: “I am innocent of the blood of this righteous person. See ye to it.”

  “His blood be upon us and upon our children!” roared the mob.

  Then Pontius reentered the palace and the soldiers led away the prisoner, for his crucifixion had been commanded, and there is never any great delay in the performance of a Roman execution.

  “Let us follow, O Isaac,” said Ben Ezra.

  In the shadow behind him stood Miriam. “I also will follow with you,” she said, “for Jesus of Nazareth is my King.”

  Within the palace shortly after this, and in the small chamber near the hall of judgment, stood twain who seemed to be having earnest words with one another.

  “O Caius, my friend,” said the procurator, gloomily, “am I not in a strait place this day? I have heard thee. Gladly would I grant any request of thine, as thou knowest. I may not hear thee as to this King of the Jews. As to thy gladiator, I would give him back to thee if it were possible, but his evil deeds are too many. Without warrant or command he slew my slave dealer in the valley of Hinnom. He slew the master of the games who was over him, and with him also three slaves and the Jew merchant Abbas. Moreover, I have word from the proconsul of Spain that Saxon pirates under this Ulric the Jarl destroyed two of Cæsar’s triremes in the British seas. More things than these are justly charged to his account. What say est thou?”

  “Thou art justified,” said Caius, reluctantly. “I may urge thee no more. But I would gladly have saved him. This matter of Jesus of Nazareth would indeed be brought against thee before Cæsar. It is well for thee that thou art at peace with Herod, the fox.”

  “I did indeed strive to save the Galilean rabbi,” said Pontius. “I will tell thee a thing. My own wife had a dream concerning him and she warned me not to condemn him as of myself. To me, also, he declared himself to be of the gods. I meddle not with them, for little do we know of the gods. But I have this to ask of thee, that thou wilt be my witness of this crucifixion, that I may truly know of whatever shall there occur.”

  “That will I do!” exclaimed Caius. “I also would see how he dieth, for I have heard many strange things. It would be a rare thing to see a god upon a cross. Where, now, will be his kingdom and who shall do him reverence? I know not, surely, that it was indeed through him that I am healed of my hurt. So say a great many others who are cured. Their evils have departed from them, they know not how. We do know that no man hath such power as this.”

  “How did he deal with thee?” asked Pontius.

  “Not at all,” replied the centurion. “I stood at a distance when he looked upon me, and I felt the blood changing in my veins. He did not touch me. How, then, was the healing?”

  “This is wonderful,” said the procurator. “I will hear thee again about that matter. Go, now, I pray thee. With him and with thy Saxon there will also be crucified a strong rebel from the Lebanon who was captured in Judea. Upon his hands is the blood of many. For this consent of thine I thank thee.”

  During this time a long procession, accompanied and followed by a mixed and growing multitude, was passing slowly through the streets of Jerusalem. At its head, although many marched on in advance, were a quaternion of legionaries and their officer. Close by these were functionaries of the high priest and rulers of the Jews, with zealous scribes and Pharisees and officers from the household of Herod, the tetrarch. Next in the procession walked three who bore upon their shoulders heavy beams of wood. All three were suffering from the lacerations of the Roman scourge, and one was so far weakened that he fell under his burden.

  “Bring me hither that huge Jew!” said the Roman officer in command.

  “I bring him,” quickly replied a soldier. “He saith that he is one Simon of Cyrene.”

  “Let him carry the cross for Jesus of Nazareth,” said the officer. “We may not be delayed. Scourge him forward!”

  So again the procession moved on toward the place of execution.

  Upon the bosom of each of the condemned ones, to be afterward affixed over his head upon his wood of torment, swung a wooden tablet inscribed with his name and with his crime. Of these tablets the first was written in Latin only, and it told of the rebel of the Lebanon. Upon the second was written:

  “Ulric, the Saxon Murderer.“

  Upon the third, a larger tablet, was inscribed, in Latin and in Greek and in Hebrew:

  “This is Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.“

  Of this rather than of the others the rabble shouted mockeries as they read, for here, they said, was a king upon his way to die as a common malefactor, and for him there was no salvation.

  Silent was Ulric the Jarl, even when his eyes met those of Caius of Thessalonica, but the centurion drew near to him and said:

  “O jarl of the Saxons, I did what I could, but it was beyond my power to rescue thee. Thy sword hath fallen upon too many and thy condemnation is just.”

  No answer made Ulric, and the centurion turned away his horse.

  The gate had been passed and now the low hill of Calvary, or Golgotha, was at hand. The multitude grew as the rising tide of the sea, for all Jerusalem was stirred by this affair and the prophet of Galilee had friends as well as enemies, and many who came were weeping bitterly.

  “In a strange manner,” thought the jarl, “have the valkyrias come for me and for him. Where, now, is his father, that he hath thus deserted his son in such a place? Are the Romans more powerful than the gods? It is but little that we must die. Shortly I shall be in Valhalla, and I think Hilda will come to meet me at some place that is appointed. There, also, I will wait for Miriam until she shall come. I am glad that I have smitten down her enemies, giving my life for hers, and that I have made provision for her welfare.”

  The summit of the hill was level, and here a space was kept clear that the multitude might not hinder by pressing. Here were three holes in the earth already dug to receive the long timbers after the crosspieces and the victims should be spiked upon them.

  The raiment of the condemned was the execution fee of the Roman soldiers, and there was a stripping done, but the tunic of Jesus was gambled for by them because it was of one piece, to be spoiled by dividing.

  The three crosses now lay upon the sand and Ulric looked earnestly upon them, for a strong and sudden memory came into his mind.

  “The token of Hilda!” he exclaimed, but in a whisper, hoarse with pain. “These are but as the runes that she showed me upon the sandy beach of the North coast before I sailed thence in The Sword. Now know I that my voyage is ended, and I die, as she said, by the hands of the soldiers of Cæsar. But I had not thought of such a death as t
his!”

  First of all did the soldiers seize rudely upon Jesus, scoffing at him, and terrible was the swiftly performed work of the driving of the spikes, but there was not heard by any a cry of pain.

  “Brave is he!” thought Ulric. “I also will hold my peace.”

  Firm, also, was the courage of the rebel Jew from the Lebanon, and the multitude wondered greatly at the fortitude of these who suffered this horror silently.

  One by one did the soldiers and their helpers lift the crosses, fixing them firmly in the earth, and a loud shouting of the rabble arose at the lifting, but there was also weeping and wailing and beating of breasts among the multitude.

  At the foot of the cross of Jesus now knelt women and men to whom he spoke, and he also uttered words to some who were not so near.

  In front of the cross whereon the jarl was nailed there came for a moment a veiled one, putting aside her veil and gazing wistfully into his face.

  “O my beloved, thou!” she exclaimed.

  “Miriam! Loved one!” he groaned, being in great agony, “tarry not here! Look not upon me! Thine eyes are more than I may bear! Go to thy house!”

  Her lips parted and she strove to speak, but a great tremor shook her, and no voice came from her lips except a low, hard cry, having in it what seemed the name of her god. Then turned she away and she had fallen but that the arm of Ben Ezra went quickly around her, and he compelled her to go away a little space that she might kneel and wait.

  Time passeth slowly to one who hangeth upon a cross, desiring the coming of the end. The sun beat down hotly. The multitude came and went, and all the open space, to the highway and beyond, was a dense throng.

  “I heard him,” thought Ulric. “He hath spoken to his father more than once. If I speak to the gods, are they now near enough to hear me? I think not; but I shall see them shortly.”

  The man upon the third cross turned now in his writhing and he said to Jesus: