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.