Murmurs were many, and they all came out and stood before the inn examining their weapons and tightening their mail.
Ulric walked on, but not far, in the brightening moonlight.
"It is like the North country moon in winter," he said, for the air was clear and many things could be seen as in the day.
Beyond him arose a hill, such as may be in so great a plain, and on it there were ruins, grass-grown and mossy. In the old time there had been here a castle or a pleasure palace, none could tell which, and some of the stones were large, arising as pillars with stones laid across their summits.
"Not a temple," said Ulric, thoughtfully. "I hope not. I would not go too near an abiding place of the dead gods. Oft they come back again to trouble men. So saith Ben Ezra. So saith Abbas. They hate men, for men worship them no more."
He walked more slowly, thinking of the gods and of Hilda and of the strangeness that he himself was here without a ship or a strong company, and not knowing what might be before him on the morrow.
"I am jarl no more," he began to say, but at that moment he was suddenly silenced and he stood still to listen.
Not many paces beyond him was an open space on the summit of the hill and around it were fallen pillars, many and great, made of white stone. From this open there arose a voice and the light of the moon trembled among the white pillars.
"He kneeleth!" said Ulric to himself. "Ben Ezra called him the rabbi of Nazareth. If there be dead gods or evil demons here, he feareth them not, for they know him."
Not loudly but with exceeding melody of voice the tongue of the kneeling man spoke on, and Ulric said: