CHAPTER XIV.

THE JEW AND THE GREEK.

"O jarl," said Sigurd, the son of Thorolf, "many days have passed since we entered this sea. Thou hast pleased thy crew by landings at harbors. They have also smitten quiet people against thy will, and uselessly. They are hard to govern."

"The thirst of blood cometh upon them," said the jarl. "I would not slay any without good need. What knowest thou of this place where we are?"

"It is the gate of the world, O jarl," said Sigurd. "We have passed all Spain and much too long time have we been in our voyaging. This great cliff upon the Spanish shore is the rock I named to thee at the beginning. Southward, across this narrow strait, is Africa. The Romans name this rock the Pillars of Hercules. He is of their old heroes, a strong one, a half god. Not as Thor or Odin. He is of the giants."

Many more things said Sigurd, and the vikings thronged around to hear. Of the older men, also, were many who knew this place and who had words to speak. The younger men were exultant and their speech was boisterous; but the face of the jarl grew harder as he heard them, for they had offended him often by their deeds in Gaul and on the coast of Spain, and by their cruelties to peaceable merchant sailors whose keels _The Sword_ had overtaken. "I am made a pirate against my will," he had said of these things. "The greatest of the sea kings are not so, for they have many friends and tributaries among the peoples and islands of the Middle Sea." Nevertheless, he now spoke loudly to all.

"Beyond this cape," he said, "is the Middle Sea, which was from the first the destination of our voyage. Glad am I to have come so far out into the world. From this place onward we are as men who sail into a battle. So will every man bind himself to his obedience, lest his neck shall feel a seax."

This was the law of the Northmen upon the sea, and none might complain; but the jarl's hand was upon his sword hilt, and some of the men turned to look at each other for a moment.

Very smooth was the water, for there was no wind. The air was soft and warm. Only one bank of the oars propelled _The Sword_. She was now in no haste, and all who were on board of her felt their hearts beat with rejoicing. To most of them this was their first long war cruise, and all things were new, so that they watched eagerly for that which might be next to come.

"O jarl," said Tostig the Red, "beyond all doubt we shall soon see triremes of the Romans. Will they not at once inquire concerning us? Wilt thou avoid such a keel or wilt thou hasten into a battle?"

"I have considered well," said the jarl. "Of a merchantman we may exact tribute, but we need not always destroy. It is not the way of sea kings. Prisoners we take not any. A warship of Cæsar we must strike in her middle, without warning, that she may go down speedily and that too wide a report of our coming may not be given to those who would pursue us with a fleet. I know not, after such delays, that we are the first of the vikings this year in the Middle Sea."

"O jarl," said Knud the Bear, "care not for that overmuch. We will but go the farther into the sea. I am with thee in thy saying that we must sail to the eastern shore of all these waters."

The jarl lifted his war horn and blew long and loudly and his face grew brighter.

"To Asgard!" he shouted. "To the city of the gods! And we will smite the Romans."

Shield clashed on shield. Horn after horn was blown. The vikings shouted joyously and Sigurd the son of Thorolf lifted his great voice in a song of war.

"Easterly!" commanded Ulric to him who was steering _The Sword_. "The gods of the Northland are with us and our voyage hath been well prospered."

On floated the good ship, but she seemed to be sailing over a sea of peace, so quiet and so beautiful were both sky and water. An hour went by, and now Ulric, sitting on the fore deck, sprang suddenly to his feet, for there came a shout down from Wulf the Skater above the sail upon the foremast:

"O jarl! A sail! Eastward. And no other sail is with her."

"She is our prize!" shouted the jarl. "We may not fail of taking the first keel that we meet, whatever she may be. A man to every oar! But let those who hold the spears put on Roman helmets speedily. Open the sheaves of arrows. Bring out spears in abundance."

Other commands he gave, and there was no discontented man on board; none who was not willing to do the bidding of his jarl in battle. Then were they glad to be led by a son of Odin; and a hard ruler in a quiet time may be the captain men seek after if an enemy is nearing.

The jarl bade the rowers to row, but steadily, not wasting their strength, while the Roman helmets were brought out from the stores of _The Sword_, and the vikings laughed merrily at each other in this strange disguising.

Very soon they were near enough to learn the kind and the action of this keel which they were to contend with. She was not now attempting to either come or go, but she was drifting along over the calm water with her sails flapping lazily against her mast. The vikings might see, however, that her decks were full of armed men, and that she was a larger vessel than had ever been seen in the seas of the North. Vast was her length and breadth, and she carried five banks of oars instead of three, for this was one of the new quinqueremes which Cæsar had builded for the conveyance of his legions. She was planned, therefore, more for carrying than for speed, although her weight and force might be terrible to crash against another vessel. She was high above the water, like a tower that would be difficult to scale. She had two masts, and on these were bulwarked platforms for archers and slingers. She was as much more than a match for Ulric's keel as had this been for _The Sword_, the first, the low-built ship with which he had sailed from the Northland behind the outing ice, only that the quinquereme was less readily to be turned about.

The officer in command of the Roman warship knew no fear of any foe afloat, so sure was he of the superior strength of his vessel, and now he could have no suspicion that an enemy of Rome had come in at this time of the year through the gates of Hercules. He came to the after deck of the quinquereme when his outlooks called him, and his answer to them was haughty.

"Why did ye disturb me?" he asked. "It is but one of the triremes of Licinius coming back with tidings for Cæsar. We may hail her, in her passing, but we may not hinder her. Cæsar is careful of the bearers of his messages. Men die early who meddle with that which doth not concern them."

No change was made, therefore, in the handling of the quinquereme. The rowers sat idly at their places, ready for any orders which might come, but allowing their oars, longer and shorter, to hang in the water, or to rest hauled inboard.

Now there came wind enough to fill the sail, and she slipped along better, while the sailing master came and stood by the haughty centurion.

"They are in haste," he said. "They row swiftly."

"Well they may," replied the officer, "whether Licinius hath had good fortune or whether the fates have been against him. I would not be sent to Britain. Too many have gone to ruin on that island."

"It is a bad place," said the seaman, "and all those seas are full of Saxons. They are fierce barbarians, but they make good gladiators. I would crucify them all."

"Never spare thou a Saxon," said the centurion. "They are food for the sword. Slay every one thou findest on land or sea. Mars be my witness, I will spare not one."

For life or for death, therefore, was the swift coming of _The Sword_. The Saxons must overcome the quinquereme, or escape her in some manner, or they must die without mercy, and this they knew well.

"A strong force on board of her," said the centurion, as _The Sword_ drew nearer. "But I see no standard save an eagle on the fore deck. She hath no officers of rank, and that is strange. I will hail her. Sound thou thy trumpet, trumpeter!"

Loudly rang out the trumpet call, and it was answered by a trumpet from _The Sword_. But here too was a mystery. The viking who blew was better used to his war horn, and he knew not that instead of a peaceful greeting he had sounded the notes that bid a Roman legion close with an enemy, to win or die.

The centurion sprang to his feet, for he had been seated.

"Rowers!" he shouted, "to your places! Here is a strange matter! There is evil tidings!"

Other swift orders followed, and every legionary on board the quinquereme was at his post, for the Romans are not easily to be taken by surprise because of their strict discipline and their rule for perpetual readiness by day or night.

"She is a smaller craft than ours," said the sailing master, "but she is a good one. I know her well, and her sign is Minerva. Who now commandeth her I know not."

In that she was so well known as one of the triremes of the Roman fleet in British waters was now a gift of the gods to _The Sword_ and to the Saxons. Not the centurion nor his officers nor any seaman or legionary on board the quinquereme had any thought or suspicion of that which was to come.

Onward flashed the swift, strong vessel, the oars of the Northmen biting well the sparkling sea. Fiercely rang the Roman trumpet, warning them to change their course lest there should be a collision. Hoarse were the angry shouts of the astonished centurion, but vain were his too-long delayed orders to his rowers and his steersman.

On the fore deck of _The Sword_ stood now a tall shape, wearing indeed the helmet of a Roman, but putting to his lips a war horn of the North. Beside him stood what seemed a giant brandishing a spear. The blast was sounded and then sped the spear. A hundred more were hurled from _The Sword_ at the Romans on the decks of the quinquereme. The viking rowers pulled with their might.

Crash! With a breaking of timbers, a braying of horns, a chorus of mocking war cries, the quinquereme was smitten amidships with a force which threw her legionaries prostrate and sent her rowers from their oars.

The centurion was pierced by the spear of Sigurd. The steersman fell by a heavy pebble cast by Knud the Bear. The sailing master went down twice smitten.

Up to the masthead of _The Sword_ shot the White Horse flag of the Saxons, and the good ship sprang backward with a great rebound, helped quickly by the rowers.

"We have stricken her!" shouted Ulric. "The sea poureth into her. Back! Strike not again! It is enough!"

As the lightning from a clear sky, so was the deathblow given to the pride and strength of the quinquereme. As a warrior stabbed to the heart was she as she leaned over, and as the fatal blue tide poured in through the deep wound in her side. There was no stanching it. There was no hope. They who had purposed to slay all Saxons were themselves to die. On the decks and at the bulwarks, amazed, confounded, the Roman soldiers and sailors stood and gazed in silence at their utterly mysterious destroyer. Here was a riddle of the fates and furies which none might read. They knew not even the flag of this strange pirate keel. They only knew that they were going down.

On the stern of the quinquereme stood three men who were not in armor. They were bearded men and they wore turbans, and they spoke to each other in another tongue than the Latin.

"We may escape," one of them said. "The god of Israel hath heard. We are not to be crucified. Let us plunge in and go to yonder ship from Tarshish. Ben Ezra, what sayest thou?"

"Follow me," said Ben Ezra, "ere this accursed quinquereme goeth down bearing us with it. On this side, while the Romans are gazing. Take each two short oars. We have somewhat to bear with us. Get beyond a spear cast as soon as we may."

He was a short man, and old, but his eyes were bright and he seemed a brave one. His two companions were youths. Into the water they slipped silently, as he had said, and they swam well, partly upheld by the pieces of wood.

_The Sword_ was not receding, but her rowers were pulling easily as Wulf the Skater steered her around and past the quinquereme. No more spears were thrown nor did any arrows fly, but there was a sounding of war horns.

Brave must have been the trumpeter of the legionaries, for he lifted his trumpet and answered defiantly, even while the water rushed in through the fatal gap in the wooden wall of his sinking vessel.

"We shall have no prisoners," said Knud the Bear. "I would I knew if they had taken any. What if captured Saxons were on board of her?"

"Not at this season of the year," said Sigurd. "But what are those? Look yonder! The Romans wear no turbans. O jarl."

"Bid them on board!" shouted Ulric. "I would question them. Throw them a rope!"

It was a long thong of twisted hide that was cast out toward Ben Ezra and his companions, but it came too late. In a moment their escape had been seen by the legionaries. They were true to their soldier discipline. They themselves must die, but it was their duty to prevent the departure from the quinquereme of any prisoners. Such as attempted it must be slain. So the pila flew fast and even arrows were sent.

"Ben Ezra, I am smitten!" gasped one of the younger swimmers.

"Thou?" groaned Ben Ezra; but in an instant more, he added: "O God of Hosts! My son also! My only son! My Benjamin!"

"Father!" cried out the second youth, in agony, "the spear of the heathen! I die! I die!"

"My son!" again mourned Ben Ezra. "I care not to live! Let me perish with thee!"

Nevertheless, he had grasped the thong of twisted hide and the instinct of self-preservation was strong enough to make him cling to it. Moreover, he had taken three of the short oars, instead of only two, and on these he was buoying up what seemed a small casket of wood. He was doing so with difficulty, and now he exclaimed:

"The jewels! The gold! I must not lose them. They are priceless. The centurion knoweth not that I have them. Not only mine are here, but the prætor's also. O Jehovah of Hosts! Thou hast smitten the heathen! That spear fell short. Ha!"

A pilum struck the oars and Ben Ezra struggled hard for his treasure, but he succeeded in retaining it.

Down sank the two who had been stricken, and in a moment more a strong hand of a viking grasped the old man by the shoulder.

"Courage! Thou art safe!" he shouted.

"This first!" said Ben Ezra, trying to hand him the casket. "It is worth their quinquereme! Ye are Northmen. I am a Jew of Salonica. The Roman robbers plundered my ship unlawfully, and me they meant to crucify, the better to claim my goods. Help me in. I am faint. O my son!"

They pulled him up over the bulwark with some difficulty, but he spoke not nor did he seem to see anything until he was sure that his casket was in the hands of Ulric the Jarl.

"Open it not now, O captain of the Saxons," said Ben Ezra. "I have much to say to thee. When yonder Roman keel goeth down I am no longer in peril, for I have kept the law. But the Prætor Sergius of Spain and the commanders of the fleet rob whomsoever they will. Praise God, she sinketh fast!"

It was even so. The quinquereme was settling in the water and her crew could cast spears no more. They did but stand still and gaze at the sea and at their strange enemy, but some of them even now called loudly upon their gods, as if there could be any help from them.

She was a splendid vessel, and her figurehead was a gilded Neptune with a trident which looked as if it might be of gold. Rich indeed were her carvings and the very handles of her oars were graven and gilded. She was high at prow and stern, a castle of the sea, and the wonder was that she had been cloven at a blow. A lighter vessel with a ram less sharp would perhaps have rebounded without doing serious harm, but the beak of _The Sword_ was like a vast spearhead and it had been driven hard by the strong arms of the Saxons and by the weight of the trireme.

The middle parts of the foundering ship could no longer be occupied, and the ill-fortuned men who were to perish were now crowded densely fore and aft. Even now, however, the legionaries preserved their discipline, and they slew some of the hired rowers who pressed them in too disorderly a manner. These were deaths which were but somewhat hastened, yet military order was restored thereby, for the rowers feared the strokes of the pila and the broadswords.

"They go!" muttered Ben Ezra. "So perish all who afflict the chosen people. Rome will yet fall before the sword of Judah and the spear of Israel. Jehovah standeth for his elect. He will have vengeance upon the heathen. He will smite through kings in the day of his wrath."

"O Ulric the Jarl," said Sigurd, "thou mayest trust the Jew. He hateth Rome as we do."

Then came Ulric nearer, still watching the quinquereme, but he spoke words to Ben Ezra in a tongue that those who stood by understood not.

"Father Abraham!" exclaimed the old man, "where didst thou learn Hebrew? I like thee well for this. After yonder quinquereme goeth down thou hast cause to consult with me. There are matters thou knowest not."

"Odin!" exclaimed Ulric. "Watch! She is pitching forward! They are falling!"

In a mass together, as the decks slanted, plunged the overcrowded Romans. It was of no avail to struggle or to thrust with sharp weapons. Angrily, loudly, in his last desperate valor, blew the trumpeter his final defiance, but as the blast ended the prow of the quinquereme went madly under, lifting the stern out of water for a moment. Then went up a great cry and quickly naught could be seen save a few heads of swimmers dotting the blue water.

The helmets disappeared first because of the weight of armor, but the Saxons cast no spears at any who remained, and some who were bareheaded seemed to be swimming well.

"He hath golden hair," said Sigurd, pointing at one of these. "He is no Roman. I will call to him in Greek--"

"Bid him come," said Ulric, "if so be he is not a Roman. He may live."

Sigurd sent to the swimmer a few words in a smoothly sounding tongue, and the golden-haired youth struck out for the trireme, but he was followed by twain who were dark and who cursed him in Latin. Well for him that he was the better swimmer, for they strove to grapple him that he might die with them. He might not even then have fully escaped but that Ulric knew their meaning and said to Tostig the Red:

"I have no spear! Smite those two Romans and save the Greek."

Not one spear but twenty sped in answer to that command, and the youth came nearer alone, for there were none to follow him.

"He was a rower," said Ben Ezra. "He is a slave of the centurion. He is from Corinth. It is perilous to spare him, lest he might tell of this thy doing."

"What harm?" asked Ulric. "Can the Romans do more than destroy? I will myself tell them that this is the third of their warships that I have taken from them."

"Thou sailest in one," replied Ben Ezra, glancing around him. "Thou and thine are men of valor. But the like of this hath never before been seen. A Saxon crew in a Roman trireme fighting the ships of Cæsar! Mayest thou have a fleet and smite them in the Tiber itself! Now sail thou on, for there is another quinquereme and she may not be far away. Avoid her, lest thou fall into a snare of presumption."

"Not I," laughed Ulric. "We have done enough this day. Come thou and talk with me, and then I will have speech with the Greek."

The young Corinthian was now aft among the men, and Sigurd was talking freely with him. There were others of the older vikings who had learned words of the Grecian tongue, and they, too, were both speaking and hearing.

Into a cabin under the fore deck went Ulric and Ben Ezra, and there they were alone, for none was permitted to follow them.