Ulric the Jarl: A Story of the Penitent Thief

by William O. Stoddard

"Thus far Jove hath been with me. I have escaped the treachery of both the wolf Julius and the foxes, the Herods. I do now know that Herod Antipas refuseth to join them, to his ruin. Why linger I here, where I am not safe for an hour but for the swords of my Saxon gladiators? I trust their jarl, for they are his more than mine. He mendeth but slowly from the tiger's clawing. I would he were able to ride even in a chariot, for my errand here is done. Unless he were with me I could do little with his barbarians. Abbas is a traitor, ready for a buyer, and I believe him already bought. Ben Ezra—he is a Jew, and every Jew hateth every Roman, with good cause. I am glad he hath departed. The barbarians are not so, for they are but gladiators, and this Jarl Ulric is not as a common man. I may trust him."

So spoke with himself the grim centurion, the near friend of Pontius the Spearman, considering the affairs of princes and of kingdoms. He walked on, thinking deeply, and ere long he was at the palace by the seashore. A legionary stood guard at the portal, but no Saxons were to be seen.

If one had walked with these at this hour, he would have been at a place from which might be seen the walls of Capernaum. Along the beach were boats and sailing vessels, larger and smaller, and out upon the sea were many fishermen. At the water side were some who spread out a net to dry, but above them, on the high ground, had gathered rapidly a mingled concourse of people. Said one of the net dryers to another:

"The rabbi of Nazareth is there. He healeth the people. Only John is with him. We ought not to be here. Let us go to him."

"Did he not bid us go a-fishing?" replied another. "We have caught many. It is enough. Let us go."

So left they their net and went up the bank, and as they went they heard the voice of the rabbi preaching to the multitude. They listened, hastening, and they spoke no more to each other. All utterances were stilled save the wonderful voice of the preacher, the music of the waves upon the beach, and the low, painful mutterings of one man who hobbled along upon crutches as if to join the gathering.

"O that I am to be maimed!" he said. "I, Ulric, the son of Brander! That I shall no more walk firmly! The tendons and the muscles of my limbs refuse to heal, as if the tiger's claws were poisonous. What thinkest thou, Wulf the Skater? Shall we not go on and see this man?"

"Thou art faint, O jarl," said Wulf. "It is not well that thou hast walked so far. I fear thou wilt but cure the more slowly. One goeth by us! Look at him! Hear him! He is a leper!"

"Unclean! Unclean! Unclean!" a hoarse and croaking sound came to their ears from the ulcered, shriveled lips of him at whom Wulf pointed.