THE TAKING OF THE TRIREME.
The night was at hand when the jarl and his party arrived at the camp,
and already all others were around the camp-fires.
"O jarl!" shouted Tostig. "Come thou and see this mighty one! We hauled
him hither upon a bundle of branches, and he wearied us with his
weight."
"Never saw I such a one!" exclaimed Ulric, gazing at the great boar
which lay at the fire by the spring. "Was he for thy spear alone?"
"For mine!" said Tostig. "Now am I even with thee concerning the white
bear, for this one fought as did the son of the ice king. He nearly
overcame me after he had slain Nef, the son of Ponda, and had rent him
in pieces. He had no wound from Nef."
"We did watch them," said a viking, "and to Tostig is the honor. If his
spear had broken, as did thine in the bear, I think Tostig would have
lost the battle."
"Then had I felt those great tusks," laughed Tostig, "But it will take
all the night to roast him well."
"He will roast while we fight," replied the jarl; "and some of us will
eat not of him, but in Valhalla. To the ship, all! We go to attack a
Roman trireme. Let those eat now who have not eaten, taking their meat
with them. I leave not a sword here!"
"He who would stay behind is nidering!" shouted Tostig the Red. "We
will follow our jarl to the feast of swords, and they who return
may find the boar roasted. Hael to thee, O jarl! Thou bringest good
tidings."
Not until all were in the ship, however, did Ulric explain to his men
fully and carefully the errand upon which they were going. Wild was
their enthusiasm, and once more the young and the discontented were
satisfied with their jarl.
"He is a son of the gods," they said, "and he will lead us to victory."
"Or to Valhalla," growled Knud the Bear. "Not all of you will eat the
roasted boar's flesh."
The rowers rowed with power and _The Sword_ went swiftly. Ulric was at
the helm, and Olaf was at the prow sending back words of direction. The
distance to be traveled was less on the water than on the land, through
the forests.
"I would I knew of the doings of Biorn," said one, as the ship rounded
a point and entered the harbor at the river mouth.
The jarl answered not, but shortly he put his fingers to his lips and
whistled thrice.
"Row slowly, now," he said, "till an answer shall come. I am glad the
moon is not yet arisen. We go on behind a curtain."
The jarl's signal had been heard by a man upon whom was only a belt, to
which hung a sheathed seax and a war horn. He stood at the water's edge
at the harbor side.
"The jarl cometh!" he whispered, and he went into the water, making
no sound. Before that he had crept along the shore, landward, bearing
his arms and his armor, and now he had but sixty paces to swim. The
Roman sentinel on the deck of the trireme heard only the ripple of the
outgoing tide against her wooden walls.
Knife upon hemp cutteth silently, but soon the sentinel turned with a
sharp exclamation, for out of the seaward silence there came a long,
vibrating whistle, another, another, and then from the hollow of a dark
wave near the trireme there sounded a fourth like unto these three.
This last he answered with a shout, and he hurled his pilum at that
darkness in the water, but the trireme herself responded with a lurch
and a yawing as she began to be swept away by the tide. There were
rowers on board, and they quickly sprang to the oars, but they were
few and there was yet no steersman. There were many soldiers also, but
their officer ordered a number of them to the oars, that he might get
the ship under control. When, therefore, there came gliding swiftly out
of the shadows the unlooked-for warship of the Saxons she was alongside
and her grapplings were made fast with none to hinder.
From the opposite side of the Roman vessel, as it were from the water
itself, now sounded furiously the war horn of Biorn the Berserker.
Full half of the legionaries rushed in that direction and their hurled
spears were too hastily lost in the sea. Terribly rang out the war
horns and the battle shouts of the Saxons, but the first man of them
on board of the trireme was Ulric the Jarl, and down before his ax
fell whoever met him. Close behind him were his followers, so that the
nearer Romans were not only surprised, but outnumbered.
Up the side, near the stern, climbed Biorn the Berserker, and for
a moment he was alone, so quickly had fallen twain who were there.
Taking in hand the helm, "Biorn! Biorn the Berserker!" he shouted. "O
jarl, I am here! The ship is ours!" Hard fought the remaining Romans,
nevertheless, against such odds, but all the rowers were slain at their
oars.
"It is done!" said Ulric. "Silence, all! I have called twice for Biorn.
Where is he?"
"O jarl, son of Brander the Brave!" came faintly back from the after
deck, "hast thou fully taken this trireme?"
"We have her!" answered Ulric. "Thanks to thee, O Biorn! She is thine!"
"Odin!" shouted back the old berserker. "Then bear thou witness for me,
at feast and in song, that Biorn, the son of Nar, the sea king, died
not by drowning, but by the driven spear of a Roman, in all honor. I go
to Valhalla as becometh me. Rejoice, therefore, and smite thou these
Romans once more for me. I die!"
There was a silence of a moment on the ship, but then the oldest viking
of all blew triumphantly his horn and shouted: "We have heard! Biorn,
the hero, hath gone to the hall of the heroes. He died by the spear,
and not a cow's death. Good is his fortune. Hael to thee, O Biorn! And
hael to Jarl Ulric, the leader of men."
Clashed loudly then the shields and spears, but already Saxon hands
were upon the oars and Tostig the Red was at the helm, with Olaf by
him. Only it might be a dozen warriors had been named by the valkyrias
to go to Valhalla with Biorn the Berserker, but the Romans whose bodies
were cast into the sea were ten times as many.
_The Sword_ and the trireme were now going out with the tide into
the open sea and into the darkness, but there had been much sounding
of trumpets in the camp of the Romans. Few as were the remaining
legionaries, they had marched to the shore ready for action. There
were small boats at the beach, but it was all too late for any use of
these. Those who patrolled and inquired, however, found at the side of
a rock a helmet like a bear's head, a shirt the hide of a bear, two
heavy spears, an ax--the trophies to them of Biorn the Berserker. These
were brought to the centurion in command and he examined them with care.
"The pirates of the North are here," he said. "Woe is me that ever
I came to this death coast! Here shall we leave our bones, for the
Britons will come like locusts, and we have lost our trireme!"
"Another ship cometh soon," said his friends. "We may hold the fort
well until her arrival. All is not lost."
"Know ye that?" replied the centurion. "If the trireme of Lentulus
were above the water, she would have arrived long since. He hath never
failed an appointment. I think it was his evil demon and not the favor
of the proconsul that made him the count of the Saxon shore. The fates
are against us."
So darkly brooded the Romans over their many disasters, while Ulric the
Jarl ordered the steering of his two ships up the coast and into the
cove where he had first landed.
"I would have speech with a Druid, if I may," he said to Olaf. "It is
strongly upon my mind that I must see this great sacrifice to their
gods. Manage thou this for me. Thou hast been in league with them."
"What I can do in such a matter I will do," said Olaf. "But, O jarl,
I have somewhat to say to thee concerning this trireme. Consider her
well, for she is a strong warship and there is much room in her."
"Also much plunder," said Ulric; "but that must wait for the day. Each
man hath his share, and the shares of the slain go to their kindred
when we return."
"So is the North law," said Olaf; "but where shall any man stow that
which may be his prize? _The Sword_ is but a nutshell. Thou wilt think
of this matter, for thou art jarl."
The night waned toward the dawn and all had need of rest. The ships
were anchored, therefore, and the cove was still.
The trumpets at the Roman camp greeted loudly the sun's rising. The
sentinels were changed and the patrols came in from the edges of the
forest to report that no enemy seemed to be coming. The soldiers
sullenly attended to the customary morning duties of the camp, now and
then glancing seaward as if they hoped to see a sail. The centurion in
command walked along the lines of his intrenchments, studying them,
but his eyes more often sought the earth. A stalwart man was he, in
splendid armor, and his face bore scars of battle. Well had he fought
the Britons the day before, but now he loudly exclaimed:
"O my imprudence! I should have waited for Lentulus and a greater
force. Will he never come? But, if he come, the fault of this defeat is
not his, but mine. He will be acquitted, and I am left alone to account
to Cæsar for a lost eagle of a legion!"
He smote upon his breast and again he walked onward, downcast and
gloomy. Once more he spoke, with exceeding bitterness:
"How shall I answer for the loss of the trireme here in the bay? Will
not all men say that I kept no watch?"
He stepped upon the rampart and stood still. Near at hand were the
ruins of the Saxon village, but they had ceased smoking and lay black
and bare as witnesses of the ruthless blow which he had smitten upon
the Northmen of the Saxon shore. Beyond were fields which would not
be cultivated this season as formerly. There were many corpses yet
unburied, for the slayers had spared none save boys and girls for the
slave market. The very young, the very old, even the middle-aged women,
had been slain, and the fighting men had fallen with their weapons in
their hands. The prisoners were guarded in a kind of pen at the left,
and they were many.
"Petronius," shouted the centurion to an officer of rank, "take with
thee ten and slay all. We have no conveyance for them. Let not one
escape."
One order was as another to a Roman soldier, and Petronius answered
not, but marched away into the camp, seeking his ten who with him were
to butcher the prisoners.
"I am dishonored!" said the centurion. "Fate and fortune are against
me. I can give no reason for the loss of the trireme. I will go down to
the shades."
Slowly he drew his short-bladed, heavy gladius from its sheath. He
looked at it, trying its edge, and he said:
"Thou hast been with me through many battles, O sword! Thou hast drunk
the blood of more lives than I can count. Be thou true to me now, for
all else is lost."
Then he knelt upon the rampart and placed the hilt firmly in the earth,
the blade point leaning toward him. He braced himself and cast his
weight with force. A gasp, a shudder, a struggle of strong limbs, and
Petronius was in command of the Roman camp, for his superior officer
was dead.
There were many screams at the prison pen, but afterward all was quiet,
and Petronius returned, to be told of this new misfortune which had
befallen.
"Keep ye good watch," he said, "lest the Britons take us unawares.
There is more than one trireme yet to come. But now we will raise the
funeral pile of him who lieth here, for he died in all honor."
Orders were given and the soldiers brought much wood, but they came and
went in silence, for their fates were dark before them.
So was it with the camp of the Romans; but at the camp of the Saxons,
at the cove and spring, there was high feasting, for they found the
wild boar well roasted and the venison was abundant. They needed but
harps and harpers, for the spirit of song came upon all singers, and it
was a day of triumph. Not even the older vikings could say that they
had ever heard of the taking of a Roman warship in this wise.
"Some have the sea kings rammed to sinking," they said. "Some have they
driven ashore and some have they burned; but the Romans themselves ever
burn any keel that they are leaving. Hael to _The Sword_, the victor!"
"The smiters of my kindred have themselves been smitten," said Olaf,
the son of Hakon, but he sat with a fierce fire burning in his eyes and
his seax lay bare at his side.
"We have smitten them upon the sea," said Ulric the Jarl, "but not yet
upon the land. I may not yet leave Britain. Not until I have kept the
counsel of Hilda and my promise to my father at his tomb."
"Do as thou hast said," replied Olaf, "lest evil fortune come to thee.
But go thou now and look at the trireme. Is she not thine, to do with
as thou wilt?"
"I will go," said Ulric, and with him went only Knud the Bear, by his
ordering.
First went they upon _The Sword_, for she was nearer, and she was now
lashed side by side with the trireme. High above the low bulwarks of
the ship from the Northland arose the strong sides of the war vessel
of Cæsar, and her greater force in fight or in rough seas was evident.
Ulric looked and he thought of the sayings of Olaf, the son of Hakon,
for a shrewd suggestion sprouteth in the mind of a wise man like a seed
sown in a garden.
"Truly we were overcrowded," said Ulric, standing upon the fore deck of
_The Sword_. "We are thrice too many souls for so small a ship as this.
There was too little room for provisions or for sleeping. There is none
at all for the storage of spoils. The men will not brook the burning of
the shares which may fall to them. They like not my hard ruling even
thus far."
"O jarl," said Knud, "what sayest thou? Let us not burn good plunder.
What good to win it if we carry it not home with us? I would now go on
board the trireme."
"Come," said Ulric, and they climbed up over her high bulwark, noting
how thick it was and well joined together. Thus they passed from stem
to stern and in and out of cabins, examining all things--the oars, the
ropes, and the sails.
"She is provided for a long voyage," said the jarl. "Sawest thou ever
such armor and such store of weapons? We may need them in the southern
seas."
"That will we," replied Knud; "but I am an old seaman and I was
thinking of yonder sails. There are twain. They are of strongly woven
stuff--not skins, like our sail. They will save much rowing. There are
good anchors also. Thou sayest well, we are too many in _The Sword_."
Yet she seemed very beautiful as she lay at the side of the trireme,
and the jarl remembered how his heart had gone out to her while she was
building. She had borne him well, also, and she had proved herself.
What might he do with the vessel that he loved? He went on board of her
again and he stood by the hammer of Thor on the fore deck.
"What thinkest thou?" asked Knud. "What if I--for I am a smith--put now
the anvil and the hammer on the fore deck of the trireme? Will she not
then be _The Sword_? Will not Thor and Odin go with her?"
"Do even as thou hast said!" loudly exclaimed Ulric. "So the gods go
with us what matter for a wooden keel?"
But his heart smote him sorely.
"I would," he thought, "that I might have speech with Hilda. I will go
on shore and question Olaf. He is old."
Old was he and crafty, for already he had been saying many things to
the vikings. He had told them of keels overwhelmed in the storms of
the southern seas, or crushed by the rams of Roman warships. He had
spoken of hungers and thirsts because of lack of room for provisions,
and of fights lost because there were no more arrows to shoot or spears
to throw. The young men heard him eagerly, and even the old warriors
listened with care. They also called to mind such things and told
of them, and all who chose to look could see the difference in size
between the two vessels that floated in the cove.