"It is made in my own land," he said, "but this came from a Greek island, I think. There is good wine in Canaan. I would eat again of the grapes and the pomegranates of Israel and Judah. O my son! That he might have been with me! O my Rachel and my daughters and my firstborn and his brethren! The curse of Jehovah be upon Rome forever! Amen!"
So the old Hebrew warrior wailed in the bitterness of his soul, and The Sword sprang on over the billows, bearing him to his own land, but she was now no longer a warship.
"We will not count the days," said Ulric to Lysias. "We will speak to none that we may pass."
"Pause not!" replied Lysias. "Thou hast thy life yet and I have mine. I have it in my mind that I shall see my Sapphira. I have had a dream in the night and she stood and beckoned me."
Ulric answered not, but that night he slept upon the deck dreaming, and in the morning he thought about his dream also.
"Hilda was there," he said, standing at the helm looking across the sea. "Behind her was the sun rising. Between her and the sun were many warriors, heroes of the gods, armed for battle. There was blood on some of them. But at the right hand of Hilda stood that dark and beautiful one, and there were flowers in her hair, and the flowers were both red and white."