Orm said that this would be a fine idea if only it were practicable; and he would be glad to lend a hand in throttling the guards if they got that far, which he rather doubted. Where, though, could they find a suitable piece of iron, and how could naked men, who were always under close observation, manage to smuggle it aboard without being detected? Toke sighed, and admitted that these were difficulties that would require careful consideration; but he could not think of any better plan and said they would merely have to bide their time until an opportunity should present itself.
He succeeded in having a surreptitious word with Krok, too, and told him of his plan; but Krok listened to him abstractedly and showed little interest or enthusiasm.
Not long afterwards the ship was put into dry dock in one of the Caliph’s shipyards to be scraped and pitched. Many of the slaves were detailed to assist with the work, chained in pairs; and the Northmen, who knew the ways of ships, were among these. Armed guards kept watch over them; and the overseer walked his rounds with his whip, to speed the work, two guards, armed with swords and bows, following him everywhere he went to protect him. Close to the ship there stood a large caldron full of simmering pitch, next to which was a barrel containing drinking-water for the slaves.
Krok and Gunne were drinking from this barrel when one of the slaves approached supporting his oar-companion, who had lost his foothold while engaged on the work and had so injured his foot that he was unable to stand on it. He was lowered to the ground and had begun to drink when the overseer came up to see what was afoot. The injured man was lying on his side, groaning; whereupon the overseer, thinking that the man was shamming, gave him a cut with his whip to bring him to his feet. The man, however, remained where he was, with everybody’s eyes fixed upon him.
Krok was standing a few paces behind them, on the far side of the barrel. He shifted toward them, dragging Gunne with him; and suddenly it seemed as though all his previous apathy had dropped away from him. When he was close enough and saw that there was sufficient slack in the chain, he sprang forward, seized the overseer by the belt and the neck, and lifted him above his head. The overseer cried out in terror, and the nearest of the guards turned and ran his sword through Krok’s body. Krok seemed not to feel the blow. Taking two sideward paces, he flung the overseer head downwards into the boiling pitch as the other guard’s sword bit into his head. Krok tottered, but he kept his eyes fixed on what could be seen of the overseer. Then he gave a laugh and said: “Now my luck has turned again,” and fell to the ground and died.
All the slaves raised a great shout of joy to see the overseer meet such an end; but the gladness of the Vikings was mingled with grief, and in the months that followed they often recalled Krok’s deed and the last words that he had uttered. They all agreed that he had died in a manner befitting a chieftain; and they expressed the hope that the overseer had lived long enough in the caldron to get a good feel of the pitch. Toke wrought a strophe in Krok’s honor, which ran thus:
Worse than the whiplash burned
The whipper, when his head
Was drowned deep in the hot wash-
Tub of the sea-mare’s bows.
Krok, who by cruel fate
Had slaved at a foreign oar,
Won his revenge and freedom:
His luck had turned again.
When they rowed out to sea again, they had a new overseer to supervise their labors; but he seemed to have taken note of the fate of his predecessor, for he was somewhat sparing in the use of his whip.
CHAPTER SIX
CONCERNING THE JEW SOLOMON AND THE LADY SUBAIDA, AND HOW ORM GOT HIS SWORD BLUE-TONGUE
THE TONGUELESS man who rowed beside Orm grew worse and worse until at last he could row no more; so when the ship anchored in one of the Caliph’s military harbors in the south, called Málaga, he was led ashore, and they waited for another man to be brought to replace him. Orm, who had had to do nearly all the work on his oar during the last few weeks, was curious to know whether he would now have a more congenial workmate. The next morning the new man appeared. He was dragged to the ship by four soldiers, who had their work cut out to get him up the gangway, and nobody needed to peer closely at him to know that he still had his tongue. He was a young man, handsome, beardless, and finely limbed, and he shrieked curses more frightful than anything that had been heard in the ship before.
He was carried to his place and held fast there while the chain was fixed round his ankle. At this, tears streamed down his cheeks, though they seemed to be the effect of anger rather than of sorrow. The ship’s captain and the overseer came to have a look at him, whereupon he immediately began to abuse them with curses and imprecations, calling them many names that Orm had never heard before, so that all the slaves expected to see him receive a fearful flogging. The captain and the overseer, however, merely stroked their beards and looked thoughtful, while they studied a letter that the soldiers had brought with them. They nodded their heads at this sentence and shook them at that one and whispered discreetly among themselves, while all the time the newcomer howled abuse at them, calling them sons of whores, pork-eaters, and copulators of female asses. At last the overseer threatened him with the whip and told him to keep his mouth shut. Then, when the captain and the overseer had moved away, the new-comer began to weep in earnest, so that his whole body shook with it.
Orm did not know what to make of all this, but thought he would get little help from this fellow, unless they used the whip on him. Still, he felt it would be something to have a companion who could at any rate talk, after his experience with the tongueless man. At first, however, the newcomer disdained to hold any converse with him and rejected Orm’s friendly approaches. As Orm had feared, he turned out to be no oarsman and could not adapt himself to his new mode of life at all, finding especial cause for complaint in the food that was supplied to them, which seemed to Orm to be very good, though insufficient. But Orm was forbearing with him, and did the rowing for both of them, and muttered words of encouragement to him, in so far as he was able to in Arabic. Several times he asked the man who he was and why he had been sentenced to this ship, but received in response merely haughty glances and shoulder-shrugs. At length the man condescended to address him and announced that he was a man of breeding and not accustomed to being cross-examined by slaves who could not even talk properly.
At this, Orm said: “For those words you have just uttered, I could take you by the neck so that you felt it; but it is better that there should be peace between us, and that you and I should be friends. In this ship we are all slaves, you no less than the rest of us; nor are you the only man aboard who is of good lineage. I am so myself; my name is Orm, and I am a chieftain’s son. It is true that I speak your language poorly, but you speak mine worse, for you do not know a word of it. It therefore appears to me that there is nothing to choose between us; indeed, if either of us has the advantage, I do not think it is you.”
“Your intonation is deplorable,” replied the newcomer. “However, you seem to be a man of some intelligence. It is possible that among your own people you are reckoned to be well-born; but in this respect you can hardly compare with me, for on my mother’s side I am directly descended from the Prophet, peace be to his immortal soul! Know, too, that the tongue I speak is Allah’s own, all other tongues having been invented by evil spirits to hinder the spread of the true learning. So you see that there can be no comparison between us. Khalid is my name, the son of Yezid; my father was a high officer of the Caliph, and I own great possessions and do no work, apart from supervising my gardens, entertaining my friends, and composing music and poetry. It is true, I admit, that I now temporarily find myself otherwise occupied, but this shall not be for long, may worms eat out the eyes of him who set me here! I have written songs that are sung throughout Málaga, and there are few poets living as skillful as I.”