CHAPTER XVII.

THE MURMURING OF THE MEN.

Out of the African harbor sailed _The Sword_ with a good wind, and there was no present need for rowing. No longer were the Saxons willing to linger in that place and live upon fishes. Small pleasure was to be had there, they said, save to lie at night and listen to the cries of many wild beasts. They had not hunted at night save that one of the youths of Sigurd's party had ventured beyond the jetty foolishly and had not returned. Blood had been found in the morning, but not any of his bones. It had been better if the weather had been rough or if the men had been at the oars, for in their idleness upon this blue and peaceful sea was an occasion for discontent.

"The jarl must do better than this!" they said to each other, and as they talked of battles the thirst for blood increased among them, for it is as a wild fever when it cometh.

"O jarl," said Sigurd, the son of Thorolf, not long after _The Sword_ passed beyond the ledge whereupon so many had been wrecked by reason of the revenge fire of Annibaal, "I think we do well if we steer now eastward. We shall find too many Roman triremes in this neighborhood."

"I would seek them," said Ulric, "if not too many of them were together. Dost thou know of a shore or an island where there are cattle?"

"Verily I do," said Ben Ezra, "but I know not if we may find it easily. We may but sail on. Lysias is with the steersman now, and he is pointing."

Vebba, the son of Uric, was at the helm, and he hated the Greek, but he listened, for he could not despise a good bowman.

"I would carve the blood eagle on thy back," he said, laughing, "but if thou wilt guide to where we may slay somebody, thou art better worth killing. I hate thee."

"So do I hate thee," said Lysias, boldly, "but we may not fight on the ship. I will give thee thy sword play when we get to a good place. But I shall strike thy head from thy shoulders."

"Good!" said Vebba. "I like thee better. But bring us first to some good fighting."

Then went Lysias to Ulric and the Jew, and they conferred somewhat, but Lysias passed from them to the after cabin, and came out bearing something that he took with him to the after deck.

"I saw it there," said Ulric. "It is a harp, not half so large as that of Oswald's. What can the Greek do with it?"

"Wait and see," replied Ben Ezra. "Among the Greeks are those who are skilled in music. Hearken!"

All ears upon _The Sword_ were suddenly turned to listen, for the harp was a good one.

"He playeth well!" said Sigurd. "No man shall slay him. We needed harping."

"Aye," replied the discontented men, and then they shouted to Lysias: "Sing!"

Not at once was he ready to sing, and the harp sounded on as if he heard them not.

"Sing! Sing!" they shouted again. "Sing, or we will slay thee!"

"Slay on, cowards!" laughed Lysias, angrily. "What care I for slaying!"

For he had been muttering hoarsely to himself something about Sapphira and there were tears in his eyes.

"Down!" shouted Sigurd, to a viking who was drawing his seax. "Harm him not, lest I send thee a spear! I would hear his harp. Down, I say!"

The spear of Sigurd was a matter to be avoided, and the seaman left his weapon sheathed and sat down. But at that moment arose the voice of Lysias in a grand Greek song, a song of war and of contending warriors.

"Right!" shouted the men to Sigurd. "Thou shalt slay any that shall rob us of our harping. He singeth well."

None would have expected a voice so powerful and so sweet, and they who heard it clapped their hands or clashed their spears upon their shields.

Then the war song ended, and the harp began to send out low, sweet music that made them think of the Northland. They said to one another that now the trees were in leaf, and the grass was green, and the wind was in the pines, and the waves were on the shores, and the voices of the gods could be heard in the fiords. The women and the children, too, were in the houses, or they were caring for the cattle, and the fisher boats were out from all the villages. So they grew quiet and looked across the blue waters of the Middle Sea less discontentedly, and the thirst for blood waned away for the hour. And yet they knew not that now the Greek was singing in his own tongue of Sapphira the Beautiful, and that he did not at all see the ship, or those who were in it, or the sea, but that his eyes, like those of the blind, were seeking far away for a face and a form that were out of sight, beyond--he knew not where.

His own countenance, with its perfect outlines and its youthful color, exhibited his sadness in keeping with the flowing music of his lyre, but he knew not that the eyes of Ulric and of Ben Ezra were reading him. Unlike the rest of the vikings, excepting Sigurd, they understood the words of the song, which was from one of the old poets of the better days of Greece.

"I have heard," whispered Ulric, "that even as he saith, the young women of his people have great beauty."

"Yea," returned the Jew, "I have seen many of them. I have seen this Sapphira, and she did excel. But no maidens are as those of Israel and Judah, the roses of Sharon and the lilies of the valley. Their voices are those of birds and their forms are of the heaven. Such was the mother of my son in her youth. Such were my daughters. I am glad that they fell by the sword----"

"How were they not captured by the Romans?" asked Ulric.

"Because of the swords of their husbands and their brethren," said the Jew, calmly. "All died together, but the fairest of them needed no sword save her own. She chose to die by her own hand rather than to become the sport of the heathen."

"She did well," muttered Ulric. "She was dark and she was beautiful. She was brave and true. I have never loved, but I would I could find one like her."

"If she were of the race of Abraham," replied Ben Ezra, "she might not wed save with one of her own people. That is our law concerning women."

"It is a good law," said Ulric. "Hilda, the saga woman, told me of it. She said that ye have good sagas of your own and that your runes are ancient. Are there any among you that are descended from the gods?"

"We have but one God," said Ben Ezra, "and all we are his children, for he is the creator and father of men."

"He is Odin, the all-father?" said the young jarl, inquiringly. "Then, when I get to Asgard, I shall see him. I have thought much concerning gods. That was a strange one in the temple in the city of ruins. He gave us much treasure."

"We took it," said Ben Ezra.

"Yea," replied Ulric, "we did so. But the Romans did not find it, nor any others that came, until the god who sat there watching permitted it to be taken. That was but his stone face that we saw. Thou knowest not much of gods, to think that he saw us not. Is thy god blind, that thou canst hide away from him?"

"Not so," said Ben Ezra, thoughtfully. "Talk no more. The Greek hath ceased. I think thy men like him better, but there is a spear waiting at any hour for either him or me."

"So is mine waiting for him who may cast his own unduly," said Ulric, angrily, "and that know they well. But the sun is sinking and a sail is in sight. Sigurd seeth afar. He is coming."

"A small trireme," said Sigurd, as he drew near. "I think we must take her."

"Take her," said the jarl. "Oars, all! Vebba, son of Uric, steer for yonder keel!"

Loud rang the shouts of the Saxons and the discontented became good-humored, but there was little need for fast rowing. The stranger was nearing them at its best speed, and ere long they could hear the sound of a trumpet.

"The grapplings!" commanded Ulric. "If we may not strike her with the ship, we will board her!"

Swiftly the two keels approached each other, and rash indeed were the Romans, for they were arrogant, not knowing with what they had to deal. They saw the Saxon flag on the mast. They heard the war horns. Many men they saw not at the first, for concealment of his strength was the prudence of the jarl, lest his enemy might strive to escape. All the more freely did the fighting men of the small trireme crowd her decks and gather at her bulwarks.

Even from afar did the arrows of Lysias and Tostig and other bowmen and the slingstones of Knud begin to go in among them, angering them as some of them fell, hurt or slain. They, too, had bowmen, but neither good nor many, and their arrows were short.

Cunningly did Vebba veer away _The Sword_ at the nearing, that a flight of spears might hurtle among the Roman soldiers, thinning them. Past them shot the swift keel of the Saxons, only to turn again suddenly, crashing back upon their further banks of oars. They, too, had been ready for boarding, but their bulwarks were not so high as were those of _The Sword_. Her grapnels were well thrown, moreover, and the two ships were as one when the legionaries made their brave rush to climb on board their enemy. Well had it been for them if they had been more in number. Well if they had not been so rashly self-confident, and if they had not been half beaten by astonishment at the sudden appearing of the Northmen at the ship's side.

With laughter and with mocking did the Saxons hurl their spears and then follow with sword and ax. Over the bulwarks they went, through the gaps left by slain Romans, and quickly they went two for one, slaying joyously. No Roman thought to surrender, nor was any mercy in the hearts of the vikings, but among them all did none smite more eagerly than did Ben Ezra and Lysias.

"Slay! Slay!" shouted the Jew. "O Greek, thou art too slow. Hew down! Smite under the fifth rib! Let none escape!"

"Good fighters are they!" shouted Vebba from the after deck of _The Sword_. "I will have a fine contest when I slay that Greek. I will fight him fairly. But I must get the Jew before me to see how he will handle that crooked blade. He cleft a Roman to the chin. Hah! I am but steersman and I miss the killing."

So did others of the vikings, for there were not enough on the trireme to put blood upon every good sword or spear. They were all gone too soon, and there was disappointment. Nevertheless, the legionaries had died hard, and nine of the Northern heroes had gone to Valhalla.

"To them the gods were kind," said Sigurd, "but this trireme is a fair prize. There are ten head of small, fat cattle, besides four fresh carcasses. We must have them on board _The Sword_, with the other plunder, before we kindle the fire."

The men were attending to that, for here was their fresh meat without the trouble of landing to find it. All of the slain might be burned with the trireme, with all honor, so there was no more care for that. Some Saxons were wounded, but not so that they might die, and there were no prisoners. All provisions and arms were taken over speedily and the good spirits of the men were returning, for none of them waited for needless cooking of the beef that was ready. Roasting might be done afterward, but the sharp knife could shred, and a viking cared for little more at the end of a won battle.

"Fire, now," commanded Ulric, at the last. "Throw off the grapplings and let her drift away. I would see her burn."

So the rowers pulled to a little distance and paused, letting _The Sword_ rock gently over the soft waves while the fire blazed more and more brightly upon the decks and in the waist of the Roman trireme.

"She burneth well," said Sigurd.

"So burn every Roman keel!" exclaimed Ben Ezra. "Jehovah of Hosts hath been with me this day, and I have gotten vengeance upon mine enemies. My sword hath been deep in the hearts of the heathen."

Lysias was silent, but his fair face glistened with pleasure as he gazed upon the mounting flames. His lyre was now in his hand again and his fingers wandered over the strings.

"The harp! the harp!" shouted some of the vikings. "If he playeth not, we will slay him."

"An evil spirit is among them," muttered the Jew. "Whence he cometh I know not. Who shall cast him out? for we have neither scribe nor priest on this accursed vessel. I think that he belongeth to the idol upon the fore deck."

In that he spoke of the anvil and hammer of Thor, for to him the Saxons ascribed the gift of this victory.

"He is a demon," said Ben Ezra, "and he hath entered into these uncircumcised. I would he might lead them to Gehenna."

"The harp! the harp!" again demanded the vikings, and the voices of the rowers were joined to the shouts of those who were feasting.

"The wind riseth well and so do yonder flames," said Lysias; "but they who are dead feel no pain of burning. Within me is a fire which is a continual torment. The harp were a relief, and I will sing."

It seemed as if a strange spirit of wild song had come upon him and his lyre. It mattered not greatly that few of the vikings understood his words, so fierce and so triumphant was the music of his singing. Moreover, they looked upon his face and it gave them an interpretation, for there was a terrible meaning in its expression.

Now the rowers ceased and the sail was up, but the burning Roman ship also felt the fresh wind, and it was as if it strove to keep them company while Lysias sang.

"She will founder shortly," said the jarl. "We are leaving her. I would I knew more nearly whitherto we have come. We are far in the Middle Sea and we should be near some of its islands."

"Thou knowest," remarked Sigurd, the son of Thorolf, "that opposite to the southerly point of Italy there lieth a great island, whereon is a volcano, vomiting fire, for under it is the world which burns, and there do the gods war with one another. I think we are between that island, which is called Sicily, and a part of Africa. O Jew, what sayest thou? Thou hast visited many parts of Africa."

"We have wandered here and there," said Ben Ezra. "The question is difficult. But if yonder haze telleth of the coast of Sicily we may meet another trireme soon. There are many hereabout. They will for the greater part be merchantmen."

Down sank the vessel they had burned, with much loud hissing of fire meeting water, and the clouds of smoke and steam went up while the Saxons blew their war horns and shouted their exultation. They all had feasted well, however, and those who were not on watch were willing to slumber while the increasing gale carried _The Sword_ swiftly toward the east.

Another was at the helm, and Ulric, the son of Brander, went and sat down upon a silken-covered couch in the after cabin. He was alone, and he brought out his jewels to look at them. They were many and they were beautiful, and he turned them over one by one.

"Never before," he said, "did I have so good a lamp as this that hangeth here. The oil, too, is perfumed and the room is full of a sweet odor. These are the ways of the Roman captains and rich men. I may not see Rome, for there are too many quinqueremes in the way, too many legions of warriors on the land. We are few. I do not care much for their gods, for I have beaten them. I will go on to Asgard, but I will go first to this temple in Jerusalem. Ben Ezra saith that I can buy both priests and governors with these bright stones. But I may have to slay my own men if they obey not. If I cut down a few of them the rest will be more peaceable. These Saxons that came with Sigurd hardly call me their jarl. If they were dead it would not matter. I will go my own way."

The ruby was now in his hand, the great red stone that was graven with the name of the Hebrew god, and among them all there was no other like this. It glowed like fire in the lamplight, and Ulric said: "It is full of blood. It is a stone of stones. But whence came the blood, and how is it full of fire? Is he angry with me? I think I will carry his gem to him in his temple, and I will tell him I have brought it back. I would not keep from any god that which is his."

So he put it back into the casket and took out an emerald. This, too, was graven with deeply cut runes.

"One of them," said Ulric, "is like the runes that Hilda showed me in the sand by the sea, but it is alone. I care not until there are three. It is green and wonderful. O Hilda of the hundred years, would that I could show to thee this jewel of the old gods!"

The lamp burned low and it was flickering. Without the gale roared loudly and the waves beat against the sides of the ship with a groaning sound. There was no voice but of the wind and of the surges. The curtains in the cabin swayed to and fro, as did the cresset of the lamp.

"Hilda! Hilda!" murmured Ulric, but he saw her not, and even his thought of her was confused in his mind. The saga woman was tall and dark, but not so tall and fairer was this thought which came before his eyes as if he were in a dream:

"So beautiful! So beautiful!" he said. "Her eyes are like stars and her hair is a cloud of shining curls. Her lips are like the ruby of the temple. I think she is one of the Hebrew maidens that Ben Ezra saith excel all others. I will go to that land and find her, for it must be that she also is of the daughters of the gods. And now I can see Hilda, and her hair is white, but her eyes are shut. Therefore I know that they have carried her to the tomb that was made in the rock of Odin. I shall see her no more until I get to Asgard. If this is her hand upon my head, she should speak, for I love her well."

He listened, and the lamp went out, but no voice came; and he lay down upon his couch, but a fire was kindling in his heart.

"Lysias loveth Sapphira," he thought, "but thus did I never feel before. The Hebrew maiden! I would Ben Ezra had not told me of her, for now I can have no other. I had thought that my love would be blue-eyed and a daughter of Odin. Shall I not be content if I find that she is dark, and that she is a daughter of this Jehovah, the god of the Jews? I will go on and I will see what she will say to me."

Then he slept, and _The Sword_ swept onward swiftly toward the sunrise.