"And the jarl forbade us to slaughter their crews," said one. "I would have slain all."
Men who will to find fault may readily prepare a cause. Thus far the voyage of The Sword had been even too prosperous, being guided by prudence, and there was lacking the curbing which cometh from wholesome disaster. The weather was all too warm for Northmen, and some few of them had sickened, and of this sickness had four vikings died a cow's death but for the mark of a spear which was given them by the hands of friends. Now, also, the skin of the lion aroused jealousy against the Greek. It was declared that an hour must be found for him to feel an edge of a seax, for he was not a Saxon and there should be no outland men like him and Ben Ezra upon a ship from the Northland. The jarl was too hard in some matters and he was too soft in others. Nevertheless, days went by while all looked at these temples and houses and the mighty fortifications. As for the jarl, he explored somewhat, but he abode mostly with the ship. He was silent and moody, for there were many things upon his mind.
"I have come far out into the world," he thought. "I have seen that which is exceedingly marvelous. I have looked, also, upon the face of a dead god. Now I will go on until I may have speech with one that is living."
[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?"