Ulric the Jarl: A Story of the Penitent Thief

by William O. Stoddard

"The sail is up," said Ben Ezra. "Steer eastward, for we may not do aught else now than land in Syria. Thou and thine shall see Jerusalem."

"So be it!" said Ulric. "I think we are none of us wounded. I am not."

"Glad am I of that!" exclaimed Lysias. "I feared for thee in that combat. But thou art of the heroes and Jove was thy keeper, with Mars and Apollo."

"A feast of blood!" exclaimed Tostig as he lifted the body of Vebba, the son of Uric, from Sigurd, the son of Thorolf. "The sea king is not dead. He was but stunned."

Slowly arose the old warrior until he sat erect and looked around him.

"I saw them!" he said, huskily. "I saw the Nornir in the air above the sail. I saw the valkyrias, but they looked sternly at me and passed by. Why, I know not, for I fought well. Odin hath taken many this day. O jarl, what doest thou?"

"Eastward!" said Ulric. "Canst thou stand upon thy feet?"

Tostig and Knud aided him, and they brought him a goblet of ale, for wine he would not drink.

"It is well with me now," he said. "My helmet is cloven, but my skull is safe. The ax of Vebba was heavy, but he will strike no more. Sad is it that he and these are slain. Better had they fallen in a fight with the Romans."