Not long was the remainder of the night. The morn came, and when the sun arose Ulric, the son of Brander, sat upon a rock, under an oak tree, looking out upon the blue waters of the Middle Sea. Beside him sat Sigurd, the son of Thorolf, and scattered around upon the grass were the other Saxons. Lysias stood and leaned against the rock, but Ben Ezra was nowhere to be seen. In the hand of Ulric was the long, straight sword that had been found with Annibaal at the ruined city on the African shore, but it was sheathed, and the jewels of its golden hilt were glittering.
"There are men upon the shore by our boats," said Sigurd. "They are escaped from the burning vessel."
"Look southward!" replied Ulric. "A squadron of Roman cavalry. Let us see what they will do, but let us step back behind trees out of their sight. They are too many for us."
"Worse than that," said Lysias. "Horsemen might carry an alarm and legionaries on foot might hunt us in these forests."
The cavalry rode fast, and the men at the beach looked mournfully into each other's faces, for there was no fleeing from riders. Quickly came these and their officer sprang to the ground, speaking loudly.
The light of the burning ships had been seen from afar, and even now a swift galley had arrived, rowing around the rocks of the ledge, while they who were on board of her studied well the charred fragments.
The officer questioned with care the rowers, and a small boat from the galley came to the shore with another officer.
"Were there other boats than these?" he asked, pointing at the twain left there by the Saxons. "These are from a warship."
"Yea," said the centurion of the cavalry, "and these deserters took away all chance for the escape of our comrades."
"We all swam ashore," they said, "and we found these boats here. Other men than we made off with them, We are innocent."