Great was their faith in their jarl, but they were disappointed that in this harbor they were to obtain no cattle nor any plunder.
First went Lysias, as if he feared not at all; but he had seen many temples, and this was one from which its gods must have gone away, leaving it solitary. His bow was in his hand, however, and suddenly he stood still, putting a long arrow upon the string in haste.
"Strike him!" shouted Ulric. "He may escape if I try to spear him."
"A splendid lion he is!" shouted Tostig the Red. "Thou canst not slay him with thy arrows! Let me go to him!"
Even at that moment they had passed the portal, for at the top of the flight of steps was a level place, stone-floored, surrounded by these vast pillars whereof they had been speaking. Across this level was the portal, but no doors were in it to hinder. Beyond, as they now saw entering, was an open space, a hundred cubits wide and more in length, but it had no roofing. It seemed like a place of assembly, and at its further end was a high dais, whereon was an altar and behind the altar an image. But on the altar couched this lion, tawny and large. His head had been between his paws, but now he arose and sent toward them a roar that was like half-smothered thunder.
The arrow sped and it smote him in the breast, entering deeply.
"Odin! What a bound was that!" exclaimed Ulric, and all the Saxons shouted for the pleasure of seeing the stricken beast fly through the air toward them.
"He belongeth to the Greek," said Sigurd. "Spoil not his sport. He shooteth well. He is a warrior's son."
It had been a disgrace to any viking to interfere, even if the lion should slay the Greek, but Svip, the son of Leiknar went forward wrongfully, lifting his spear. All others did but stand where they were and they called out angrily to Svip.
"He is but a Greek," said the son of Leiknar; but the lion sprang again and he sprang far, with a short roar which was fierce and guttural, taking Svip for his enemy. Brave was the son of Leiknar, but he knew not aught of lions. Upon him fell the mighty beast, beating down the spear with a forepaw. Sharp were the long claws and swift and terrible was the tearing. The shield was no defense and the mail was rent as if it had been leather. Torn into fragments was the strong viking ere he might draw his seax, but the bow of Lysias twanged again and his arrow sped well.