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diff --git a/21379.txt b/21379.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c32339a --- /dev/null +++ b/21379.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10509 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Marcus: the Young Centurion, by George Manville Fenn + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Marcus: the Young Centurion + +Author: George Manville Fenn + +Release Date: May 8, 2007 [EBook #21379] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARCUS: THE YOUNG CENTURION *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + + + + +Marcus, The Young Centurion, by George Manville Fenn. + +________________________________________________________________________ + +Marcus is eighteen, and his father had been a great Roman General, +Cracis, who had fallen from grace some years before and was living +quietly, farming in a small way in southern Italy. An old ex-soldier, +Serge, works on the farm, and is helping to bring Marcus up. Marcus +would like to be a soldier, and is encouraged in this by Serge, but his +father has forbidden any discussion of the topic. + +One day a stranger comes to the door. This turns out to be none other +than Caius Julius, later Caesar, who begs Marcus' father to join him in +a war against the Gauls. He agrees, and goes, having made Marcus and +Serge promise that they would not try to follow him. + +But they do, independently, and then meet accidentally. Serge was being +attacked by bandits, and Marcus sees this happening and rushes to the +rescue, so they are reunited, later to be joined also by the household +dog, Lupe, who has tracked them across Italy. On reaching Rome they are +just in time to join the last unit of the Roman army as it leaves for +the war. They make their way across the mountains and into Gaul +(France), where battles ensue, in which they distinguish themselves, and +are brought to the notice of the Generals, whom they had rescued from +personal disaster during the battle. So Marcus' military career is +assured. + +________________________________________________________________________ + +MARCUS, THE YOUNG CENTURION, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. + + + +CHAPTER ONE. + +FLIES AND BOYS. + +Hot as hot. Through the open window, where a couple of long shoots of +one of the grapevines hung down, partially shading the room within, a +broad, glowing ray of light, which made the shadows near look purply +black, streamed right across the head of Marcus, a Roman lad of about +eighteen, making his close, curly, brown hair glisten as if some of the +threads were of gold, while the light twinkled on the tiny dew-like +drops that stood out on the boy's brown forehead and by the sides of his +slightly aquiline nose. + +The side of his head was down upon the table and his hands outspread +upon either side; a wax-covered tablet had escaped from his left, and a +pointed stylus, with which he had been making a line of characters upon +the wax, had slipped from his right fingers, for he was sleeping like a +top. + +All was wonderfully still in the Roman villa, and, from time to time, a +slight puff of air which came cool from the mountains, but grew hot +before it reached the house, sent one of the vine strands swinging to +and fro like a pendulum, while the other, having secured itself to an +outer shutter by one of its tendrils, remained motionless. + +The one that swung to and fro kept up its motion the more easily from +the fact that it was weighted by a closely-set bunch of grapes of a +pearly green on one side, but on the other, facing the sun, beginning to +be tinged with a soft purple hue. Upon one of these berries a great +fly, which seemed to be clad in a coat of golden armour, sat with its +face away from the sun as if listening to the sleeping boy, who every +now and then uttered a low, buzzing sound which seemed to have attracted +the fly from the outer sunshine to dart to the window with a similar +kind of hum, buzz round for a few moments, and then settle upon the +grape. + +There was not much similarity in the two sounds, simply because the fly +made his by the rapid motion of the wings, while Marcus produced his +softly through his nose. In plain English, Marcus, the Roman boy, son +of Cracis, the famous senator, tired out by the heat, had gone to sleep +over his studies, snoring like an English lad of this year of grace, +nearly two thousand years later on in the progress of the world. + +So Marcus snored, not loudly and unpleasantly, but with a nice, soft, +humming note; and the great, golden-green fly sat on the grape and +seemed to watch him. + +It was very still in the simple Roman villa on the steep slope of the +hillside--a hill which looked like a young mountain, an offset of the +beautiful spur that ran upward from the vineyard farms and villas of the +campagna towards the purple shades of the great range far, far away. + +But now and again other sounds floated into the shadowy room past the +bright bar of golden light which crossed the boy as he slept. + +There was the uneasy, querulous bleating of a goat, answered by the +impatient cry of a kid, and now and again the satisfied grunting of +pigs, though in those days they called them swine, of which there were +several basking in the sunshine in the little farm attached to the +villa, the little herd having shortly before returned from a muddy pool, +dripping and thickly coated, after a satisfying wallow, to lay +themselves down to dry and sleep in peace, the mud having dried into a +crackling coat of armour which protected them from the flies. + +All at once that fly sprang up from the grape, darted into the room, and +circled round, humming loudly, one moment invisible in the dark, velvety +shade, the next flashing bright and golden as it darted across the sunny +bar of light, till, all at once, it dropped suddenly upon the boy's +glistening nose, producing such a tickling sensation with its six +brush-armed feet, that Marcus started impatiently, perfectly wide awake, +and sent his disturber escaping from the window by an angry stroke +which, of course, missed, as he impatiently exclaimed in fine, old, +sonorous, classic Latin: + +"Bother the flies!" + +The boy closed his eyes again, opened them sharply, and picked up his +tablet and stylus, yawned, and carefully laid them down again, for his +head felt very heavy. As he listened to the soft grunting of the swine, +his eyelids dropped, and, in another moment, he would have been fast +asleep once more, when from somewhere near at hand, as it seemed, there +was a sharp crack as of the breaking of a piece of wood. + +Marcus listened, fully awake once more, and, rising softly, he rose and +approached the window, to peer between the vine leaves that encroached +all down one side. + +He was listening to a soft whispering which was followed by a laugh, a +tearing noise, and another crack. + +The boy stole back and stood for a few moments in his loose, woollen, +open-fronted garment, not very much unlike a tweed Norfolk jacket +without pockets or buttons, very short in the sleeves. His eyes were +wandering about the room as if in search of something which was not +there, and, not finding it, he stretched out his hands before him, +looked at them with a satisfied smile, and doubled his fists. Then, +stealing further back into the shadow, he passed through a door, made +his way along a passage, across another room, and out into the open +atrium, a simply-made, shady court with a central basin where a little +jet of water played up, sparkling, and fell back in glistening drops. + +The next minute the boy was out in a fairly extensive garden, stooping +low as he glided among the trees towards the little trellised vineyard +on the sunny slope, where, from the continued sounds, it was evident +that a party of marauders were making a foray amongst the unripened +grapes, which, trained to fir-poles secured to posts, formed an +attractive pergola overhead. + +Marcus approached as near as he could unseen, and then paused to +reconnoitre, to find that the sounds proceeded from a party of six boys +of somewhere about his own age, two of whom had destructively climbed up +a couple of the poles to be seated astride amongst the spreading vines, +where, after throwing down bunches to their four companions below, they +were setting their glistening white teeth on edge with the sour grapes +they had torn from the clinging strands. + +They were talking in whispers, but that was the only sign of fear they +displayed, for the villa stood alone, the nearest domicile, another +villa farm, being a couple of hundred yards away lower down the slope, +and, apparently perfectly convinced that the occupants of the place were +right away, they feasted in perfect security and content. + +A grim smile came upon the handsome young face of Marcus as he watched +the destruction going on. His eyes sparkled, his sun-browned cheek grew +deeper in its tint, and he looked round again for the something that was +not to hand, that something being a good stout stick. Then, clenching +his fists more tightly--nature's own weapons--and without a sound, he +suddenly made a dash for two of the boys who were standing with their +backs towards him, and with a couple of springs came down upon them like +fate, gripping them by the backs of their necks and sending them face +downwards amongst the vine leaves and damaged bunches that had been torn +from the vine, kneeling upon one and pressing the head of the other down +into the soil, regardless of the shrieks and yells which made the two +seated above drop down and follow the other two, who had taken to +flight, while the noise that was made startled the sleeping swine +outside to add their shrill squeals and heavy grunts to the turmoil of +the cultivated ground within. + +It was hard work to keep down the two young marauders, who joined to +their struggling piteous appeals for mercy; but Right strengthened the +hands of Marcus, and he was gaining a complete triumph, and calculating +where he should secure his two prisoners until either his father or +Serge came back, the latter probably from his tramp through the forest +to see after the young acorn-eating pigs. + +But the prisoners' shouts reached and added wings to their flying +friends' heels for the moment, then checked them, and a feeling of +comradeship prevailed. The young rascals stopped short after going some +distance; then one looked back, and his example was followed by another +and another, till all four were hesitating as to what they should do. + +They were on the balance when a more pitiful yell than ever from their +trapped companions sent the scale down in the latter's favour. They +looked at one another questioningly and then began to steal back to see +what was happening, all the while fully on the alert to dash again +through the trees which shaded their approach to the garden. + +In this way, with their fellows' bellowing ringing in their ears, they +at last stole up to the palisading through which they had at first +broken, and then, dropping on hands and knees, they crept cautiously up +to the edge of the little vineyard and, sheltering themselves well, +peered in. + +The first and boldest got a good glimpse at once, and beckoned and made +way for the others to see what was happening. + +There was not much to see, only Marcus half kneeling half sitting upon +the ragged back of one of his prisoners, and reaching over to grind the +nose of the other a little more closely into the earth every time he +squealed. + +But that was enough for the return party, which clustered together on +all fours with their faces approaching and eyes questioning, like so +many quadrupeds. + +They looked the more animal-like from their silence during the next few +minutes, when the two prisoners made a concerted effort to get free--an +effort which only resulted in making their position worse, for, as he +mastered them, reducing them to obedience again, the boy jammed his +knees fiercely into the ribs of the one upon whom he squatted, and +lifted up and banged down again the head of the other. + +The result was a piteous burst of shrieks which were too much for their +friends and supplied them with the courage in which they were wanting, +making them with one consent spring forward to their comrades' help, +influenced, however, by the feeling that they were six to one. + +So sudden and unexpected was the attack, which accompanied a loud +shout--one which made the prisoners join in and heave themselves up to +get free--that Marcus was jerked over, and, before he could gain his +feet, found himself the centre of a combined attack in which he rapidly +began to get the worst of it, for, while he fought bravely and pommelled +and banged enemies in front, getting on so well that he succeeded in +seizing two by the neck and hammering their heads together, two others +leaped on him from behind in his weak rear, in spite of his splendid +kicking powers, while two more attacked in front. + +Marcus was a young Roman, and fought like the Romans of old; but then +the six young roughs were Romans too, and they fought like the Romans of +old, and six to one is rather long odds. + +Breath began to come short, perspiration was streaming, and an unlucky +blow on the nose set another stream flowing, while, all at once, a dab +in the eye made the optic flinch, close its lid from intense pain, and +refuse to open again, so that one-eyed like a regular old Cyclops, and +panting like the same gentleman from the exertions of using his hammer-- +two in this case, and natural--Marcus fought on, grinding his teeth, +rapidly weakening, but determined as ever, though he felt that he was +being thoroughly worsted by his foes. + +"I'm about done," he said to himself; but he did not utter a sound save +his panting, while suddenly it began to grow dark; for, feeling that the +day was their own, the enemy combined in a final rush, closed him in, +hung on to him wherever they could get a hold, and were dragging him +down to take vengeance for the past--for they were old enemies, Marcus +and they--when, all at once, there was a fierce, deep, growling bark, a +rush, a man's deep voice as if encouraging a dog, and Marcus was free, +to stand there breathless and giddy, listening to the retreating steps +of his foes and the shouts to the dog of Serge, who had come to his help +in the nick of time. + + + +CHAPTER TWO. + +OLD SERGE. + +Marcus, son of Cracis, was a good deal hurt, but his injuries were of a +temporary and superficial kind, and, as he stood listening, so little +importance did he attach to his injuries that a broad grin began to +gather upon his frank young face, and he uttered a low, chuckling laugh; +for, as he stood wiping his brow and listening, he could hear the sounds +of blows, yells and cries, the worrying growl of the dog, and the harsh +encouraging voice of the man pretty close at hand, all of which taught +him that the enemy had been checked in their retreat and were being +horribly routed by the reinforcements--a cohort of dog and man. + +"The young ruffians!" said Marcus, softly, as, unwillingly dragging +himself from where he could have the satisfaction of hearing the +punishment that was being awarded, he hurried back into the villa and +stopped in the court, where he sank upon his knees by the cool, plashing +fountain, whose clear waters he tinged as he bathed his face and swollen +eye. + +He had some intention of hurrying back to the scene of battle to look +upon the damaged vines, and see if any prisoners had been made; but, +while he was still occupied in his surgical effort to make his injured +eye see as well as the other, he was startled into rising up and turning +to face the owner of a deep, gruff voice, who had approached him +unheard, to growl out: + +"Well, you were a pretty fellow, boy! Why didn't you beat 'em?" + +The speaker was a big, thick-set, grizzled man of fifty, his bare arms +and legs brown-skinned, hairy and muscular, his chest open, and his +little clothing consisting of a belted garment similar to that worn by +the boy, at whom he gazed with a grim look of satisfaction which lit up +his rugged face and fine eyes. + +"Weren't running away, were you?" + +"No!" shouted Marcus, angrily. "I kept at it till you came, Serge. But +there were six." + +"Yes, I know. You didn't go the right way to work. Were they at the +grapes?" + +"Yes. They woke me up; I had been writing, and I dropped asleep." + +"Writing?" said the man contemptuously and with a deep grunt of scorn. +"Enough to send anybody to sleep on a day like this. I say, lucky for +you I came back!" + +"Yes," said Marcus, giving his face a final wipe; "I was getting the +worst of it." + +"Course you were. That's reading and writing, that is. Now, if you had +been taught to be a soldier instead of a volumer, you'd have known that +when the enemy's many more than you, you ought to attack him in bits, +not take him all at once and get yourself surrounded. Yes, it's lucky +for you I came." + +"Yes, and I hope you gave them something to remember it," said the boy, +with his eyes fixed upon the stout crook upon which the new-comer +leaned. + +"Oh yes, I made them feel this," said the man, with a chuckle; "and old +Lupus tickled them up a bit and made them squeak." + +"That's right," cried Marcus; "but where is he?" + +"On guard," said the man. + +"On guard?" + +"Yes," said the man, with a chuckle. "We took the whole six of them +prisoners." + +"Ah! Where are they then?" + +"Shut up fast alone with the wine-press. They won't get out of there +with Lupus looking on." + +"Capital!" cried Marcus, forgetting all his sufferings in the triumphant +news. "Here, Serge, what shall we do with them?" + +"I'm not going to do anything with them," said the man, gruffly. "I've +had my turn, and it's yours now. You've got to fight the lot." + +"Yes," cried the boy, flushing, and his fists began to clench. "But I +say, Serge, I should like to, but I'm a bit tired, and they're still six +to one." + +"Yes," said the man, "but that's what I want you to see. It won't hurt +you to know how, even if you're never going to be a soldier. You come +along o' me." + +"What, to fight them?" cried Marcus. + +"Yes. Aren't afraid, are you?" + +"Not a bit," cried the boy, flushing angrily. "Come and see." + +The man chuckled as he went off with his young companion to the lower +side of the villa, where stood a low-roofed stone building with heavy +chestnut plank doors, before which crouched a big, shaggy wolf-hound +which pricked up its ears and uttered a deep growl as it lifted up its +bushy tail, and rapped the earth in recognition of the new-comers, but +did not take its eyes from the door beyond which were the prisoners it +had been set to guard. + +"Now, boy," said the man, "it was your doing that I taught you a bit of +soldiering, and a nice row there'll be about it some day when he finds +us out; so now I'm just going to show you, if you're not too tired, how +one good Roman can fight six enemies and beat 'em, same as we've often +done in the good old days when I wore my armour and brass helmet with +its plume, not a straw hat and things like these. Ah, boy," said the +man, drawing himself up and shouldering his crook as if it were a spear, +"those were grand old times! I was a better man then than now." + +"No, you weren't, Serge, not a bit," cried the boy. "You must have +always been what you are now--a dear good old chap who'd do anything for +me." + +The fierce-looking old fellow smiled pleasantly, literally beaming upon +the boy, whom he patted on the shoulder. + +"Ah," he said, "but there was no you then. But never mind all that. +Hark!" he continued, softly, as a whispering was heard beyond the door, +"They know we are coming, and they're thinking about making a rush when +I open the door. But they'd better not try; you'd pin some of them, +wouldn't you, Lupe?" + +The dog uttered a low, deep, thundering growl. + +"That's right, boy. Now, Marcus, my lad, if you feel too tired, say so, +and we'll keep them till the master comes." + +"Oh, don't do that," cried the boy. "He'd only talk to them and scold +them, and then let them go, after forgiving them for stealing the +grapes." + +"That's right, boy; so he would." + +"And they'd all laugh," cried Marcus, "and come again." + +"But they won't after the welting you are going to give them, boy--if +you are not too tired." + +"Of course I'm tired," cried the boy, impatiently, "after a fight like +that; but then they are tired too, so it's all fair--only six to one?" + +"Don't I tell you that I am going to show you how to fight them as a +Roman should, and how we used to conquer in the good old times before we +took to reading and writing and came into the country to keep pigs." + +"And grow corn and grapes, and feed our goats in this beautiful farm +villa; and if father liked to take to study instead of being a great +Roman general and senator, it's not for you, Serge, to find fault with +what it pleases him to do." + +"Right, boy! Spoken like your father's son. It was only one of my +growls. I don't mind. He's one of the finest men that ever stepped, +and what he says is right. But you and me, we don't want him to let +these young ragamuffins off without loosening their skins a bit to do +them good, do we?" + +"No!" cried the boy, joyously, as he showed his white teeth. "I say, +Serge, I feel rested now, and I want to give it to them for knocking me +about as they did. The rascally young plebs! The cowards! Six to one! +I believe they'd have half killed me if they had got me down." + +"That they would, Marcus, my boy," cried the old soldier, gazing at him +proudly. "But come on, I'll show you the way, and Lupe and I will look +on and see that they fight fair, while we guard you flank and rear. Old +Lupe shall be ready to scatter their mothers, if they hear that we have +the young rascals fast. No women will interfere if old Lupe begins to +show his teeth." + +The man and boy exchanged glances, and, as the former struck his staff +down heavily upon the earth in advancing towards the great, rough door +of the building, the latter's fists clenched involuntarily, and the dog +pricked up his ears and uttered a low sigh. + +The next minute a big, rough, hairy hand was raised to the cross-bar +which secured the door, and, at the first touch, there was a low, +rustling sound within the building. + +Serge and Marcus exchanged glances again, while the dog crouched as if +about to spring. + +Directly after, the bar was loosened, and fell with a clang, the door +was dragged open from within, and the prisoners made a simultaneous rush +to escape, but only to fall back with a despairing yell, for the great +dog bounded at them, and the old soldier and his young master closed in, +to fill up the door and step forward. + +"Stop outside, Lupe, my lad," said the old soldier, quietly; and the dog +turned back to his former position and crouched once more, while the +door was shut from the inside, the six boys backing to the far side, +beyond the great stone hewn-out press, empty now, dry and clean, for the +time of grape harvest was not yet. + +"Now then, my fine fellows," growled Serge; "you want to fight, do you?" + +"We want to go," half whimpered the one who acted as spokesman. + +"Oh, yes, you want to go," said the old soldier; "of course. Well, you +shall go soon, but you wanted to fight young Marcus here, and you didn't +play fair." + +"Never touched him till he came at us," cried another. + +"So I suppose," said Serge. "Very hard on you! Six nice boys! +Interfered, did he, when you were breaking down the vines and stealing +the grapes?" + +"They warn't ripe," whimpered another. + +"Then they ought to have been, seeing that you wanted them," cried +Serge, indignantly, while Marcus laughed. "But as they weren't ripe, of +course, it made you cross, and you began to fight young Marcus here." + +None of the boys spoke, but gazed longingly at the door. + +"Ah! You see it ain't fastened inside," said Serge, mockingly; "but it +is fastened outside with dog's teeth. I wouldn't advise you to try to +get out, because our dog, Lupus, doesn't like boys, and he's hungry. +Nothing he'd like better than to eat such a chap as one of you. But you +know that, and you wouldn't have come, only you'd seen me go off to the +forest with him to herd up the young swine. Didn't know that we should +be back so soon. You see, the young swine were just at the edge." + +"You'd better not touch us, old Serge," cried the biggest lad, in a +whining tone. "You touch me and see if my father don't mark you!" + +"I'm not going to touch you, boy," replied the herdsman. "I've done all +I wanted to you for breaking down my grape poles that I cut and set up. +I've got you here because you wanted to fight." + +"I don't want to fight," cried the youngest of the party. "You'd better +let us go." + +"Yes, I'm going to as soon as you've fought young Marcus and beat him as +you meant to." + +"We don't want to fight," half sobbed another. "We want to go home." + +"I don't believe it," growled Serge. "You want to whip young Marcus, +and I'm going to see you do it; only old Lupe, our dog, and me's going +to see fair." + +"No, you ain't!" came in chorus. "You've got to call that dog off and +let us go." + +"Yes, when you've done," said the old soldier, with a grin. "Who's +going to be the first to begin? For it's going to be a fair fight, not +six all at once upon one. Now then, anyhow you like, only one at a +time. What, you won't speak? They're nice boys, Marcus, my lad, so +modest they don't like to step before one another; so you'll have to +choose for yourself. Just which you like, but I should go or that big +fellow first." + +"I don't want to fight," whined the lad indicated, and he backed in +among his companions and placed himself as far behind them as he could. + +"Oh, come! This is wasting time. There, go and fetch him out into the +middle, Marcus, my lad--or no, I'll do it." + + + +CHAPTER THREE. + +AN OLD-FASHIONED FIGHT. + +Serge had been standing leaning over his crook, but now, taking it in +both hands and holding it before him, he stepped quickly towards the big +lad, who backed more and more away; but his effort to escape was in +vain, for, quick as thought, Serge brought down his crook as if to +strike the lad a violent blow, making him wince and bound aside, when, +before he knew what was happening, he was hooked by the leg like an +obstinate swine, and dragged, yelling and calling for help, out into the +middle of the stone shed. + +"Got you," said Serge, coolly. "There, it's no use to kick. Here, you +other boys, close up and see fair." + +Satisfied at once that they were outside the trouble, the other lads +began to grin, and, obeying the old soldier, they closed in together, +whispering to their companion who had just been hauled out, as they +believed, to bear the brunt of the expected punishment. + +Their whispers were ill received by the selected victim, who, as soon as +his leg was released from the crook, made as if to back away again; but +his companions put a stop to this and began urging him on, trying to +incite him to begin, he reluctant and resisting all the time, till his +ire was roused by Marcus, who, at a word from the old soldier, dashed in +to make a beginning, using his fists upon his enemy so well that, at the +end of two or three minutes, the latter threw himself down, howling +dismally and covering his face with his arms. + +"Here, you are not half done!" cried Serge, poking him in the ribs with +the butt end of his crook. "Get up, will you, or I'll make the other +fellows stand you in a corner to be thrashed." + +"Oh, let him be, Serge," cried Marcus. "I did give it him well, and hit +him as hard as I could." + +"Oh, very well," said the old soldier, hooking the boy again and +dragging him, resisting all he could, to the door. + +"Just hold it open, Marcus, my lad. That'll do. No, no, Lupe, we don't +want you. Now then, young fellow, off you go, and if ever I see you +here again I'll set the dog at you, and if he once gets hold he won't +let you off so easily as I do." + +One minute the boy was resisting and tugging to get his leg free of the +crook; the next, as soon as he realised that he was being set free, he +dashed off, yelling threats of what he meant to do, till the dog sprang +up with a growl, and the yells gave place to a shriek of fear, uttering +which he disappeared from view. + +"Oh, no, you don't!" cried Serge, as, taking advantage of the dog's back +being turned, the others cautiously approached the door, and were about +to make a dash for liberty. + +As the old soldier spoke he thrust his crook across the doorway, and, as +the boys fell back again, the dog resumed its watchful position and the +door was closed. + +Directly after, to Marcus' great enjoyment, there was a repetition of +the previous proceedings, Serge selecting another victim with his crook +from the five prisoners, dragging him out into the middle, where Marcus, +who now thoroughly enjoyed his task, attacked him as Serge fell back, +and, between him and the other lads, the second prisoner was forced to +fight; but it was a sorry exhibition of cowardice, resulting in a +certain amount of punishment, before he too lay down and howled, and was +then set at liberty. + +The proceedings were repeated till the other four had received a +thrashing, and the last had clashed off, shamming terrible injury one +minute till he was outside the door, and yelling defiance the next; and +then, as the footsteps died out, Marcus threw himself upon the ground +under the shady vines. + +"Hallo!" cried Serge, anxiously. "Have they hurt you, boy?" + +"No," was the reply; "but I hurt myself a good deal against their thick +heads. But I say, Serge, do you think that was fair?" + +"Fair? Of course it was!" + +"But it seemed so one-sided, and as if I had it all my own way. They +couldn't fight because they were afraid of you." + +"Of you, you mean, boy, when it was man to man." + +"No," said Marcus; "they'd have fought better if you and the dog hadn't +been here." + +"Yes, and they could all have come on you at once. A set of mongrel +young hounds--half savages, that's what they are. You didn't thrash +them half enough." + +"Quite as much as I wanted to," cried the boy, "for my knuckles are as +sore as sore. But oh, I say, Serge, it was comic!" + +"They didn't think it was, my lad." + +"I mean, to see you hooking them out one after another with your old +crook, yelling and squealing like pigs." + +"Humph!" grunted the old soldier, with his grim face relaxing. "Well, +it has given them a pretty good scaring, and I don't suppose that they +will come after our grapes again." + +"Yah-h-ah!" came in a defiant chorus from a distance, where the young +marauders had gathered together, and the dog sprang upon his feet, +growling fiercely, before bursting into a deep, baying bark. + +"Hear that?" cried Marcus. + +"Hear it, yes! And it would not take much to make me set old Lupe after +them. He'd soon catch them up, and then--" + +"Yah-h-ah!" + +"Fetch them down, boy!" shouted the old soldier, and, with a fierce +roar, the dog dashed off in a series of tremendous bounds, but only to +be checked by a shrill whistle from Marcus, which stopped the fierce +beast and brought him trotting slowly back, to crouch down at his young +master's feet. + +"Why did you do that, lad?" cried the old soldier, staring. + +"Because I didn't want Lupe to get amongst them, worrying and tearing. +What would my father have said?" + +The old soldier let his crook fall into the hollow of his left arm and +pushed off his battered straw hat, to let it slide down between his +shoulders, where it hung by its string, while, with his grim sun-tanned +face as full of wrinkles as a walnut shell, he slowly swept the drops of +moisture from his brow. + +"Hah, yes," he said; "I didn't think of that. He wouldn't have liked +it. He's got so soft and easy with people since he took to volumes and +skins covered with writing. Why, his sword would be all rusty if it +wasn't for me. It's all waste of time, for he'll never use it again, +but I don't like to see a good blade such as his all covered with spots. +Yes, boy," added the man, thoughtfully, "I'm glad you stopped old Lupe. +Haw-haw-haw! I should rather liked to have seen him, though, nibbling +their heels and making them run." + +"Nibbling!" laughed Marcus. "Nibbling, Serge!" And the boy stooped +down, raised the great dog's muzzle, and pulled up one of his lips to +show the great, white fangs. "Not much of nibblers, these." + +"Well, no, my lad," said the old soldier; "they don't look nibbley. +Nibblers wouldn't do for him, would they, Lupe, old man? He wants good +tools to tackle the wolves in winter. There, it's all over, and I don't +feel so savage now. Here, you had better go and have a good wash while +I see to the vine poles and put in a new un or two from the stack. I +expect I shall have to prune a bit too, and tie, where those young +ruffians have been at work. Let's get a bit tidy before the master +comes back, though I don't suppose he'd take any notice if there wasn't +a grape bunch left. But he'd see the dirt and scratches on your face +first thing." + +"Yes, of course," cried the boy, hastily, as he held up his knuckles, +two of which were minus skin, and showing traces of dried blood. "But I +say, Serge, look at my face. Is it much knocked about?" + +"Well, pretty tidy, my lad. You look as if you had been in the wars. +Nose is a little bit knocked on one side." + +"Oh, Serge!" cried the boy, showing real excitement now. + +"Left eye looks a bit sleepy, too." + +"Serge!" + +"Well, you asked me, my lad--and your bottom lip has been cut against +your tooth." + +"Oh, what will he say?" cried the boy, wildly. + +"I dunno," growled the old soldier, grimly. "Yes, I do," and his eyes +twinkled with satisfaction and pride in the prowess his young master had +displayed. + +"What will he say?" cried the boy, anxiously, and as if he placed full +confidence in the old servant's words. + +"Say you oughtn't to have been fighting, but been busy scratting about +with your stylus and making marks on that wax." + +"But I was busy, only it was so hot and one couldn't keep awake; and +when I heard those fellows breaking down the vines--" + +"Why, you went out and walloped them, of course," cried the man. "Quite +nat'ral. What boy wouldn't who had got any stuff in him at all? There, +don't you fret yourself about it, lad. The master will grumble at you a +bit, of course, same as he does at me; but he's a right to, and it's +only his way as he's got into now since he took to his books and +writing. But there was a time--ah! And not so very long ago, my lad-- +when if he'd caught those ragged young cubs tearing down his vines, he'd +have stood and laughed and enjoyed seeing you thrash 'em, and helped you +with his stick. And done them good too, made men of them, knowing what +was right. But there, those days have all passed away. No more +marching in the legion with the men's plumes dancing in the sunshine, +and every man's armour as bright and clean as hands can make it. Ah, +Marcus, my boy, those were grand old days, when we marched out to +conquer, and came back and made grand processions, and the prisoners +carrying all the spoil. I did hope to have seen you as fine a young +centurion, growing into a general, as your father was before you. But-- +but--There, don't stand staring at me with your eyes shining, your face +red, and your mouth half open like that. Be off at once and have a good +wash, and bathe those cuts and bruises till they look better." + +"Yes! I had better go," said the boy, with a sigh. "It was a great +bother for those boys to come. I meant when you came back for us to +have some practice with the shield and spear, and then for you to show +me again how to use the sword." + +"Hah, yes," growled the old man, drawing a deep breath through his +dilating nostrils, and unconsciously he whirled up his crook with one +hand, and as he dropped into a picturesque attitude with one foot +advanced and let the stout staff drop into his extended left hand, +"that's the way," he cried. "Fancy, boy, a thousand spears presented +all at once like that to the coming barbarians, and then the advance +slowly and steadily, driving them scattered back, while the trumpets +sounded and the ground quivered like a coming earthquake beneath the +army's tramp. That's how we conquered and made the fame of grand old +Rome. Bah! What an old fool I am!" he cried, as he stamped the end of +his crook down once more, "I forget I'm not a soldier now, boy, only +Cracis' man who tends his farm and keeps his swine." + +"Never mind, Serge; we are very nice and happy here. The place is so +beautiful. Father likes you." + +"Bah! Not he! He only looks upon me as a slave." + +"That he doesn't!" cried the boy, indignantly. "Why, only the other day +he was talking about you." + +"About me?" + +"Yes, and saying what a happy, peaceful place this was." + +"Peaceful! Bah!" + +"And that it didn't matter what came to pass, he had me with him." + +"Of course! Spoken like a father." + +"And you," continued the boy, "a true old friend in whom he could +trust." + +"What!" cried the old soldier. "What! Friend? Did he say that?" + +"Of course. He often talks like that." + +"A friend in whom he could trust!" muttered the old soldier. "And here +have I been listening to you and doing what I know he'd hate." + +He gripped the boy sharply by the wrist as he spoke. + +"Why, Serge, what do you mean?" cried the boy, wonderingly. + +"Mean! Why, what have I been doing? Doesn't he want you to grow up as +one who hates fighting, and a lover of peace? And here have I been +teaching you how to use the sword and spear and shield, making of you +one who knows how to lead a phalanx to the fight--a man of war. What +would he say if he knew?" + +Marcus was silent. + +"I have done wrong, boy," continued the old soldier, "and some day he'll +find us out." + +The boy was still silent for a few moments. Then quickly-- + +"I must tell him some day, Serge, that it was all my doing--that I +wouldn't let you rest until you had taught me what I know." + +"That's true, boy," said Serge, in a sombre tone, "and it all comes of +letting you see me take so much care of his old armour and his sword and +spear. Yes, like my own old arms and weapons, I have kept them all +bright and ready for use, for it's always seemed to me as if the time +might come and bring the order for us to march to tackle some of Rome's +old enemies, or to make new conquests--perhaps to Gaul--and that we must +be ready for that day. I oughtn't to have done it, boy, but I was an +old soldier, one who loved to see his weapons ready for the fight, and +somehow I did. There, off you go! It's no use to think now of what is +done." + + + +CHAPTER FOUR. + +CAUGHT. + +It was the next day, under a brilliant blue Italian sky, that Marcus, +after spending the morning with his father in the room he devoted to his +studies, hurried out with a sense of relief to seek out the old soldier, +whom he expected to find repairing damages amongst the vines. But the +damages were repaired, and very few traces remained of the mischief that +had been done; but several of the upright fir-poles looked new, and +there were marks of knife and bill-hook upon some of the fresh +cross-pieces that had been newly bound in their places. But a freshly +tied-in cane and the careful distribution of the broad leaves pretty +well hid the injured places, and Marcus walked away smiling as he +thought of the encounter he had had, while passing his fingers daintily +over bruise and cut, and feeling gently a place or two that were tender +still. He walked down one path and up another of the garden, his eyes +wandering about to see if Serge were busy there; but he was absent, and +there was no sign of him in the farmyard, and none of the labourers whom +he found at work could give any news of his whereabouts. + +For quite half an hour the boy wandered about the well-kept little +estate of his father before beginning to return towards the villa +embowered in flowers that had been carefully trained over the stone +walls, when, going round to the back, he heard a burring sound as if +someone with a very unmusical voice were trying to sing; and, hurrying +along a path, after muttering impatiently, the boy made for an open +window, grasping the fact that he had had all his walk and search for +nothing, and that, if he had gone round to the two rooms set apart for +the old soldier's use before going out, he would have found him there. + +Marcus dashed up to the window, and looked in. + +"Why, Serge," he cried, "I've been hunting for you everywhere! Ah! +What are you doing there?" + +Without waiting for an answer, the boy drew sharply back, ran to an open +doorway, entered and made his way at once into Serge's room, a rough +museum in its way of the odds and ends of one who acted as herdsman, +gardener, and general odd man to the master of the little country Roman +villa. + +"Why, I have just come in time!" + +"Oh, here you are, then," said Serge, ignoring the boy's question. +"Well, what did the master say about the broken vines?" + +"Nothing," replied Marcus. + +"Well, about your cuts and bruises?" + +"Nothing," said the boy again. + +"He must have said something, seeing how you're knocked about." + +"No, he must not." + +"What!" + +"He was so quiet and thoughtful yesterday evening, and again this +morning, that he hardly looked at me at breakfast time; and when we went +into the study he took up the new volume he is reading, and hardly +raised his head again." + +"Then you haven't been scolded for fighting?" + +"Not in the least." + +"So much the better for you." + +"But I say, what in the world is the meaning of all this?" cried the +boy, as he stepped to the rough table, upon which, bright with +polishing, was a complete suit of armour such as would have been worn by +a Roman man-at-arms if he had joined the army when a mere youth. + +There lay the curved, brazen helmet with its comb arching over and edged +with its plume, the scaled cheek-straps that held it in its place, the +leathern breast and back-piece moulded and hammered into the shape of +the human form, brazen shoulder-pieces, ornamentations and +strengthening, the curved, oblong shield and short sword with lion's +head to its hilt and heavy sheath. + +There were two more helmets and suits of armour hanging from the walls, +the one rich and ornamental, such as an officer would have worn, the +other plain, and every indication visible of the old soldier having had +a general clean up, the result of his polishing being that every piece +of metal glistened and was as bright as hands could make it. + +"Come in time?" said Serge. "What for? I didn't want you here." + +"No, but I wanted to come. How beautiful it all looks!" + +These words softened the old soldier's next remarks. He uttered a +satisfied grunt as he said: + +"Yes, I have had a good turn at them; but it seems a pity, don't it?" + +"What seems a pity?" + +"To wrap all that tackle up and put it away so as it shan't be seen, +till I think it wants cleaning again." + +"Yes, of course. But you are not going to put mine away." + +"Oh, yes, I am," said the old man. "I didn't sleep all last night for +thinking about it. I don't mean for us to get into any trouble with the +master, so remember that." + +"Look here, Serge!" cried the boy, angrily, "you can put your armour and +father's away, of course, but this is mine, and I didn't save up the +money father gave me and let you buy what was wanted and pay those old +workmen, the smith and armourer, to cut down and alter and make all +these things to fit me, to have them all wrapped up and put away where I +can't see them." + +"But you must, boy. You are not going to fight." + +"Never mind that. I am not going to have them put away." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I want to put them on sometimes." + +"Bah! To go and strut about like a full-plumaged young cockerel in the +spring, and look at yourself in a bit of glass!" + +"No; I'm not so vain," said the boy; "but I've got that armour and those +weapons, and you have been teaching me how to use a sword and spear, and +a lot more besides, and I mean to go on learning--so mind that." + +"Ho!" cried the old man. "And who's going to teach you?" + +"You are, till I'm perfect." + +"Can't ever get perfect in using a sword and spear. It arn't to be +done, no matter how you practise." + +"Well, I mean to get as perfect as I can, and you are going on teaching +me." + +"Nay," said the old man; "once a fool don't mean always a fool. I am +going to put all these away, and you have got to forget it." + +"No!" cried the boy, angrily. "I shall never forget what you've taught +me, Serge--never; and I'm not going to have my things put away. You +shall keep them here, as you have since you fetched them home one after +the other as they were made." + +"And all too big for you, so that you might fill up and grow into them," +said the old soldier, with a sigh of regret. + +"And I have grown, ever so much, Serge." + +"You have, lad; and you're big-boned, and you'll make a big man one of +these days. You were framing finely for a soldier, my boy. But that's +all over now." + +"No, it isn't," cried the boy, impatiently, "and you shall go on +teaching me about all the fighting and the men's shields being all +linked together so that the enemy shouldn't break through the serried +ranks." + +"Nay, my lad," sighed the old warrior; "that was all very grand, but I +don't know what I could have been thinking about to let you persuade me +to teach you what I did, all going against the master's orders as it +was. I suppose I liked it, for it put me in mind of the old days; but I +seem to have come to myself like and know better now. You tempted me, +my lad, and I'm afraid I tempted you; but no more of it. I'm sorry for +what's done, and the best way to be sorry for it is to own up and never +do so any more." + +"Then you mean that you're to leave off teaching me?" + +"Yes, my lad; that's so." + +"And suppose I say, as your master: `you shall go on.' What then?" + +"I should say: `you're not going to disobey your father's orders any +more, but to give all this soldiering up like a man.'" + +"Serge!" + +"That's right, my lad, and I know you aren't going to set your face +against what the master says I'm right, aren't I?" + +"Yes, Serge," said the boy, sadly; "but it seems very hard." + +"It do, boy, very, very hard; but orders are orders, and I forgot to +teach you what is the first thing a soldier has to learn." + +"What's that, Serge? How to use his sword and shield? You did teach me +that." + +"No, that's not what I meant. What a soldier has to learn first is to +obey orders, and I want to teach you that now." + +Marcus was silent for a while, as he stood looking wistfully at the +speaker, then at the bright soldierly accoutrements, back at the old +man, and lastly, as if the bright weapons and armour fascinated him, he +stood frowning fixedly down at everything that was spread out upon the +rough table. + +The boy's looks and actions affected the old man, who said sadly: + +"It do seem hard, lad, eh?" + +"Yes, very, very hard, Serge," replied Marcus. + +"But it's duty, boy, eh! What we ought to do?" + +"Yes, Serge, and it must be done; but I wish we had never begun it all." + +"Ay, lad, so do I; but it's of no use to wish. There, have one good +look at it, and then I'll put it all away in the big chestnut box." + +"But I shall want to look at it all sometimes, Serge." + +"Well, I don't see no harm in that, my boy. Only no more fighting +lessons." + +"No," sighed Marcus; "no more fighting lessons. You are right, Serge, +and I'm going to forget all about it if I can; but I shall always feel +that I should have liked to be a Roman soldier." + +"Ah, you can't help that, boy, of course." + +"No, I can't help that," sighed Marcus, and, stretching out his hands, +he picked up the heavy brazen helmet, looked at it round and round +before turning it with the back towards him, and then, slowly raising +it, he balanced the heavy head-piece on high for a few moments before +slowly lowering it down upon his head; the scaled cheek-straps fell into +their places, and he drew himself up erect with his eyes flashing and +face lighting up, as he gazed half defiantly at the old soldier. + +"Hah!" cried the latter. "It do fit you well, boy, and you look nearly +a man in it." + +"Do I, Serge?" cried the boy, flushing, as he put off the helmet with a +sigh, and set it aside; then, catching up the sword and belt, he went +out on to the _Piazza_ to buckle them on, his fingers trembling with +excitement the while. + +"Do you, boy? Yes, and a regular soldier too," said Serge, following. + +Marcus threw his hand across and grasped the scabbard of the short sword +blade with his left, the hilt with his right, and, the next moment, the +keen, two-edged weapon flashed in the sunlight. + +"Good! Brave boy!" cried the old soldier excitedly, and, forgetting all +the words that had passed, he fetched the oblong, round-faced shield +from the table and held it ready for Marcus to thrust his left arm +through the loop and then grasp the hand-hold firmly, and draw the piece +of defensive armour before his breast. "Well done! Now think that I'm +going to cut you down." + +In an instant Marcus had drawn back with all his weight upon his right +foot, as he slightly raised the shield to cover his head and left +breast, before throwing himself forward again, bringing up his right +hand, sword-armed as it was, and delivering a thrust which, in the boy's +excitement, lightly touched the folds of the thick woollen garment which +crossed his breast, while the receiver smartly drew himself aside. + +"Gently, boy!" he shouted. "I didn't mean you to do that!" + +"Oh, Serge!" cried Marcus, flushing scarlet. "I didn't mean to touch +you like that! I haven't hurt you, have I?" he cried. + +"Well, no," said the old fellow, smiling grimly; "but it was very near, +and the point of that sword's as sharp as I could grind it." + +"I'm so sorry," cried Marcus. "I didn't think." + +"Lucky for me I did," said Serge, with a laugh. "Did you think I was an +enemy?" + +"No," cried Marcus, hurriedly; "I thought--no, I didn't think." + +"Of course you didn't, boy, but--" + +"What is the meaning of this?" said a stern voice, and a bare-headed +figure draped in the folds of a simple Roman toga stood looking +wonderingly at the pair. + + + +CHAPTER FIVE. + +THE TROUBLE GROWS. + +"There!" muttered Serge. "We've done it now!" + +"My old arms and weapons! Yours, Serge! And these?--How came you to be +possessed of those, my boy?" + +The new-comer pointed, frowning the while, at the boy's weapons, and +then turned his eyes upon Serge, who turned as red as the detected boy, +and made signs for him to speak; but, instead of speaking out, Marcus +signalled back for his companion to explain. + +"I am waiting very patiently for one of you to give me some explanation, +though I see plainly enough that I have been disobeyed by you, my son, +as well as by my old servant, in whom I thought I could place +confidence. Marcus, my son, do not disgrace yourself further by +behaving like a coward. Speak out at once and confess." + +"Yes, father," cried the boy, making a desperate effort to speak out +frankly. "I want to tell you everything, but it is so hard to do." + +"Hard to speak the truth, boy?" + +"No, father, I did not mean that. I--I--" + +"Well, sir?" + +"I've done wrong, father, and I am ashamed of it." + +"Hah! Come, that is more like my boy," cried Cracis, very sternly, but +with the frown upon his brow less deeply marked. "There, go on." + +"It was like this, father. One day I found Serge cleaning and +burnishing the old armour that you and he used to wear." + +"Why was this, sir?" cried Cracis sternly to his old servant. "Did I +not tell you that I had given up a warrior's life for ever?" + +"Yes, master." + +"Did I place any tie upon you? Did I not tell you that you were free to +remain in the legion?" + +"Yes, master; but how was I to leave you? You know I could not." + +"Well, sir, I gave you leave to stay here with me in my country house, +but I told you to leave all traces of my former life behind." + +"You did, master." + +"Is this the way that you obey a master who has always been true to you +in his dealings?" + +"It's all bad, master," replied the man, "and I tried hard to do my +duty, and so I brought the old armour and our swords, and something +seemed to make me keep everything clean and bright, ready if it should +be wanted." + +"It never could be wanted by one who was rejected, humbled and disgraced +as I was, man. You knew all that took place, and saw me cast down from +my position." + +"Yes, master, and my heart bled for you. That's why I came." + +"Yes," said Cracis, more gently, "and in my heart, Serge, I thank you +for your fidelity; but my orders were that all traces of our old +position in the Roman army should be destroyed." + +"Yes, master," said the man, humbly, "but they wouldn't destroy. I only +kept them, and cleaned them up now and then when no one was looking; but +you know what young Marcus is: he found me out." + +"Yes, father," cried Marcus, excitedly; "don't blame Serge. I made him +talk to me about the past, and he was obliged to tell me all about you +being such a great friend of Caesar, and how, at last, you went against +him and he--There, I won't say any more, father, because I can see from +your face how it hurts you; but I got to know everything, and, when you +were busy reading and writing of an evening, I used to come and sit by +the fire in the winter's nights and make him tell me about the wars and +what a great general you were; and so, from always loving to hear about +rights, I loved to hear of the wars and conquests more and more, and--" + +"Go on, my son, and keep nothing. I must hear everything now." + +"Yes, father; I want to be frank. It was all my doing, for I persuaded +and then I ordered Serge to get me sword and armour, and made the +armourer alter a man's breast-plate and helmet to fit me, and--and paid +for it all by degrees; and then I made Serge teach me how to wear the +armour and use the sword and spear and shield; and it was all like that, +father." + +"And he has taught you all this?" said Cracis, sternly. + +"Yes, father. I made him do it; but I did it all as a thoughtless boy." + +"And did this old soldier do all as a thoughtless boy," said Cracis, +bitterly, "or as my trusted servant?" + +"He did it as my servant as well as yours, father," said the boy, +proudly. "I told him it was his duty to obey me, his master's son, +father, and, poor fellow, he obeyed unwillingly till to-day, when he +felt and I felt, that we had been doing very wrong, that it was all +worse than we had ever thought, and this was the last time the teaching +was to go on. Everything was to be put aside, and I was going to work +hard at my writing and reading, as you wished, and try to think no more +about the army and the wars." + +Cracis was silent for a few moments, during which he gazed searchingly +at his son. + +"Is this the very truth?" he said. + +"Every word of it, master!" cried Serge, excitedly. "Tell him, Marcus +boy, how it was all by chance you put on your helmet and drew your +sword. I wish now, boy, it had gone through me and made an end of me, +before I had to stand up like this and own all my fault." + +"What do you mean by that--the sword gone through you, Serge?" + +"Yes, father. In my eagerness I made a big thrust at him, and the point +of my sword almost entered his breast." + +"Dangerously close?" asked Cracis. + +"Horribly close, father, and--there, I am glad you found it all out. I +have no more to say, father, only that you must punish me, not Serge, +and I will bear everything without saying a word." + +Cracis was silent for a few minutes, and his voice sounded different +when he spoke again. + +"Where have these war-like implements been kept?" he said. + +"In your big chest, master, made out of the planks cut from the big +chestnut that was hewn down four years ago." + +"Place them back there, Serge," said Cracis, gravely. "Fasten them in, +and carry the chest and bestow it where it may stand beside my bed." + +"But father--" began Marcus. + +"Silence, sir!" said Cracis. "I wish to think of all this, and not +judge hastily. Take off those unseemly weapons, which are far from +suited for my student son. Let this be done at once, Serge. You, +Marcus, will follow me to my room, and be there an hour hence. I have +much to say to you, my boy, very much to say." + +Cracis turned thoughtfully away, leaving his son with the old soldier, +for them to gaze sadly at one another as the slow steps of the father +and master died away. + +"He'll never forgive us, Marcus, my lad." + +"He will forgive us both, Serge," said Marcus quickly; "but what would I +not give if it had never been done!" + +"No," said Serge, grimly, "he'll never forgive us." + +"Nonsense!" cried Marcus. "You don't know my father as I do." + +"Better, a lot, boy. I've fought with him, starved with him, saved his +life; and I'll be fair--he's saved mine more than once. But he's hard +as bronze, boy, and when he says a thing he'll never go back." + +"And I say he's as good and forgiving as can be, and when all the armour +has been put away as he told you, he'll forget all this trouble, and we +shall be as happy again as ever." + +"You say that, boy, because you don't know him. I do, and there's +nothing left for it but for me to make up my bundle and go off." + +"What!" cried Marcus, laughing. "You pack up your bundle and go?" + +"Yes, my lad; I can never get over this again. I have been a servant +and herdsman here all these years because I felt your father respected +me, but now he don't I feel as if I could never do another stroke of +work, and I shall go." + +"No, you won't, Serge; you are only saying that because you are cross." + +"Oh no," said the man, shaking his head, "not cross, boy--wounded. Cut +to the heart. I'm only a poor sort of labouring man here and servant, +but I have been a soldier, and once a soldier always a soldier at heart, +a man who thinks about his honour. Ah, you smile; and it does sound +queer for a man dressed like this and handling a herdsman's crook to +talk about his honour; but inside he's just the same man as wore the +soldier's armour and plumed helmet and marched in the ranks, erect and +proud, ready to follow his general wherever he led. You wouldn't think +it strange for a proud-looking man like that to say his honour was +touched." + +"No," said Marcus, thoughtfully. + +"Well, boy, I'm the same man still. I have lost your father's +confidence, and as soon as I have done putting away of our armour and +weapons, as he told me, in the big old chest, I shall pack up and go." + +"Shall you take your sword and helmet with you, Serge?" asked the boy. + +The man stared, and looked at him sharply, before remaining silent for +quite a minute. + +"No," he cried, angrily; "I shall take nothing that will bring up the +past. I want to forget it all." + +"But what do you mean to do?" said Marcus. + +"I don't know yet, boy. Something will happen, I daresay; for we never +know what's going to take place to-morrow, and I shall leave all that." + +The man ceased speaking, and began almost caressingly to straighten and +arrange the various pieces of military accoutrement that he had been +burnishing, while Marcus sat leaning forward with his elbows on his +knees, watching him sadly. + +"I don't like it, Serge," he said at last. + +"Nay, boy, and I don't like it," replied the man. "I said just now we +never know what is going to take place to-morrow. Who would have +thought yesterday that things could have been like this to-day? But +here they are. Hah!" he cried passionately. "I wish I hadn't shrunk +away." + +"Shrunk away!" cried Marcus. "Why, you are bigger and stouter than ever +you were." + +"Pah!" ejaculated the man, angrily. "I don't mean that. I mean shrunk +away as I did just now when you made that thrust at me with the sword." + +"What!" cried Marcus. "Why, I should have killed you. That sword point +is so horribly sharp. You don't know what a shudder ran through me when +I saw what I had nearly done." + +"Yes, you would have killed me, boy, and that's what I wish you had +done." + +"Serge, do you know what you are talking about?" cried Marcus. "Are you +going mad?" + +"Oh yes, I know what I'm talking about, and perhaps I am going mad. +What else can you expect of a poor fellow who, all at once, finds +himself dishonoured and disgraced?" + +"You are not. I tell you I don't believe that my father will ever say +another word when all the things are put away." + +"Yes, because you don't know him, boy. There, it's no use to talk. I +have made up my mind to go." + +"What nonsense!" said Marcus. "When my father as good as said he was +going to look over all the past." + +"Ah, but that won't do for me, boy. I am dishonoured and disgraced, and +I can never hold up my head again." + +"Oh, Serge, this comes hard on me," cried the boy, passionately. + +"Nay, boy; it's all on my unfortunate head." + +"It isn't, Serge," cried Marcus, "for, as I told father, it was all my +doing. It was my stupid vanity and pride. I took it into my head that +I wanted to be a soldier the same as father and you had been, and it has +brought all this down upon you. I shall never forgive myself as long as +I live." + +"Nay, but you will, boy, when I'm gone and forgotten." + +"Gone and forgotten!" cried Marcus, angrily. "You are not going, and +you couldn't be forgotten. I shall never forget you, Serge, as long as +I live." + +"Shan't you, boy?" said the man, smiling sadly. "Well, thank ye. I +don't think you will. I like that, boy, for you never seemed like a +young master to me. I'm old and ugly, while you're young and handsome, +but somehow we have always seemed to be companions like, and whatever +you wanted me to do I always did." + +"Yes, that you did, Serge," cried Marcus, laughing. + +"I don't see nothing to laugh at, boy," said the old soldier, bitterly, +as he half drew Marcus' blade from its scabbard, and then thrust it +fiercely back with a sharp snap. + +"No, but I do," said Marcus, "sad as all this is. It seems so droll." + +"What does?" cried the man, fiercely. + +"For you to talk about being old and ugly--you, such a big, strong, +manly fellow as you are. Why, you are everything that a man ought to +be." + +"What!" cried the old soldier, gazing wonderingly at the boy, a puzzled +look in his eyes as if he was in doubt whether the words to which he +listened were mocking him. + +"Why, look at you! Look at your arms and legs, and the way in which you +step out, and then your strength! The way in which you lift heavy +things! Do you remember that day when you took hold of me by the belt +and lifted me up, to hold me out at arm's length for ever so long when I +was in a passion and tried to hit you, and the more I raged the more you +held me out, and laughed, till I came round and thought how stupid I was +to attack such a giant as you, when I was only a poor feeble boy?" + +"Nay, nay, you were never a poor feeble boy, but always a fine, sturdy +little chap, and strong for your years, from the very first. That was +partly my training, that was, and the way I made you feed. Don't you +remember how I told you that it was always a soldier's duty to be able +to fast, to eat well when he had the chance, and go without well when he +hadn't, and rest his teeth?" + +"Oh, yes, I recollect you told me it was the way to grow up strong and +hearty, and that some day I should be like you." + +"Well, wasn't that true enough? Only it takes time. And so you thought +I was quite a giant, did you?" + +"Yes, and so I do now. Old and worn out! What stuff! Why, Serge, I +have always longed and prayed that I might grow up into a big, strong, +fine-looking man like you." + +"Thank you, my lad," said the man, sadly, and with the beaming smile +that had come upon his face dying out, to leave it cold and dull. "Then +you won't forget me, boy, when--" He stopped short, with a suggestion of +moisture softening his fierce, dark eyes. + +"Forget you! You know I shan't. But what do you mean by `when'?" + +"When my well-picked, dry bones are lying out somewhere up the mountain +side, scattered here and there." + +"What!" cried Marcus, laughing merrily. "Who's going to pick them and +scatter them to dry up in the mountains?" + +"The wolves, boy, the wolves," said the man, bitterly, "for I suppose I +shall come to that. You asked me what I was going to do. I'll tell +you. I shall wander away somewhere right up among the mountains, for my +soldiering days are over, and I can never serve another master now, and +at last I shall lie down to die! The wolves will come, and," he added, +with a sigh, "you know what will happen then." + +"Oh yes," said Marcus, with mock seriousness. "The poor wolves! I +shall be sorry for them. I know what will happen then. At the first +bite you will jump up in a rage, catch them one at a time by the tail, +give them one swing round, and knock their brains out against the +stones. You wouldn't give them much chance to bite again." + +A grim smile gradually dawned once more upon the old soldier's +countenance, and, slowly raising one of his hands, he began to scratch +the side of his thickly-grizzled head, his brow wrinkling up more deeply +the while, as he gazed into the merry, mocking eyes that looked back so +frankly into his. + +"You are laughing at me, boy," he said, at last. + +"Of course I am, Serge. Oh my! You are down in the dumps! I say, how +many wolves do you think you could kill like that? But, oh nonsense! +You wouldn't be alone. If old Lupe saw you going off with your bundle +he'd spring at you, get it in his teeth, and follow you carrying it +wherever you went." + +"Hah! Good old Lupe!" said the man, thoughtfully. "I'd forgotten him. +Yes, he'd be sure to follow me. You'd have to shut him up in the +wine-press." + +"And hear him howl to get out?" cried Marcus. "No, I shouldn't, because +I shouldn't be there." + +"Why, where would you be?" said Serge, wonderingly. + +"Along with you, of course." + +"Along o' me?" + +"Yes. If you left home and went away for what was all my fault, do you +think I should be such a miserable cur as to stop behind? No; I should +go with you, Serge, and take my sword, and you and Lupe and I could +pretty well tackle as many wolves as would be likely to come up at us on +the mountain side." + +"Ah," cried the man, "you are talking like a boy." + +"And so are you, Serge, when you say such things as you did just now. +Now, look here; you are going to do as father said, pack up all the +armour in the old chest, and then you are going to speak out and tell +him that you are sorry that you listened to me, and then it will be all +over and we shall go on again just the same as before. You and I will +think out something that we can learn or do, and talk of something else +besides fighting. There, let's have no more talking about going away. +Look sharp and get it over. I shan't be happy till I see you and father +shaking hands again. Now promise me you will go and get it done." + +"'Tis done, boy; I did speak and made myself humble, just as you want; +but he wouldn't take it right, and you know what he said. I can't never +forget it now. He wouldn't listen to me, and no words now, no shaking +hands, will put it straight. I shall have to go." + +"Oh!" cried Marcus. "What an obstinate old bull it is! Yes, I mean it, +Serge; you are just like a human bull. Now, look here; do as I tell +you. You have got to go and speak to father as I say." + +"Nay, boy," said the man, solemnly, "not a word. I am going to do my +bit of work, the last job I shall ever do here, and then it will be +good-bye." + +Marcus sprang up in a passion. + +"I can't bring you to your senses," he said. "You are too stubborn and +blunt. If you won't promise me you will go and speak to father, I shall +go myself and tell him all you say." + +"Do, boy; that's right! I like to hear you turn like that. Hit me and +kick me if you will. It will all make it easier for me to go away." + +Marcus stood up before him, looking at him fiercely, and he was about to +flash out a torrent of angry words, but, feeling that he would say +something of which he might afterwards repent, he dashed out of the room +and made for his father's study. + + + +CHAPTER SIX. + +MAKING THE BEST OF IT. + +Cracis was deep in thought, seated by the open window, with the double +roll of a volume in his hands, reading slowly line by line of the old +papyrus Romano-Grecian writings of one of the philosophers, and, as he +came to each line's end, it slowly disappeared beneath the upper roll, +while the nether was opened out to leave the next line visible to the +reader's eye. + +Marcus dashed in loudly, but stopped short as he saw how his father was +occupied, and waited for him to speak; but Cracis was deep in his +studies and heard him not, so, bubbling over with impatience, the boy +advanced and laid his hand upon the student's arm. + +Cracis looked up, wonderingly, and seemed to be obliged to drag his +attention from the book, smiling pleasantly in the flushed face of his +son, and with every trace of anger missing from his own. + +"Well, boy," he said, gently, "what is it? Something you can't make +out?" + +"Yes, father--old Serge." + +"Ah, Serge!" said Cracis, with his brow clouding over. "I am sorry all +that happened, but it was your fault, my boy. You regularly led the +brave, old, honest fellow astray." + +"Yes, father, I did," cried Marcus, eagerly, "and now he has taken all +your angry words to heart." + +"Oh, tut, tut, tut! Nonsense! I have forgiven it all, my boy; but he +has not yet brought in the chest." + +"No, father, I have left him packing it all now, and I have told him +that all that is over, and that when we have time we must amuse +ourselves in some other way than playing at soldiers and talking of +war." + +Cracis laid his hand upon his son's shoulder and, with his face growing +sterner, looked proudly in the young, frank face. + +"Thank you, my boy," he said. "That is very brave and right of you. It +shows great respect for me. Well, there! The past is all forgiven and +forgotten--nay, I will not say forgotten; that can never be. Let it +always stand in your memory as a stone of warning. Well, that is all +over now." + +"But it isn't all over, father," cried the boy. "Old Serge says what +you said has cut him to the heart, and that you didn't forgive him +properly, and that he is dishonoured and disgraced as a soldier." + +"Poor brave old Serge!" said Cracis, warmly. + +"Hah!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "I wish he were here to hear you speak +like that." + +"Oh, nonsense, boy. Time is too valuable to waste by thinking over such +troubles as that. He must understand that I have reproved him for a +fault and forgiven him." + +"But he won't understand, father. He's as obstinate as a bull." + +"He is, and always was, Marcus," said Cracis, smiling; "but no man is +perfect, and Serge's good qualities more than balance all his bad. But +there, boy, what does he want me to do?" + +"I don't know, father. He thinks what you have said can never be +undone, that he can never be the same here again as he was, that he has +lost your confidence and you won't trust him again, and--" + +"Well, and what?" said Cracis, smiling tolerantly. + +"Oh, it's too stupid to tell you, father." + +"One has to hear stupid things in life, my boy, as well as wise, so tell +me all the same. You see, poor Serge, with all his noble qualities, has +never been a man to read and learn wisdom from the works of the great. +Simple, matter-of-fact and straightforward, he is not one who reflects +and balances his acts before he makes them live. I don't think Serge +ever said to himself: `shall I? Shall I not?' before he did a thing, +and I suppose he has not been reflecting now. I am sorry I hurt his +feelings, but I am the master. He is my servant, just as in old days I +was his officer, he my legionary. It was his duty to obey. Now then, +what is he doing?" + +"Putting the armour together to go in the chest." + +"Well, quite right." + +"But it's what he's going to do next, father." + +"And what is he going to do next?" + +"Pack up his bundle, and then tramp up into the mountains to lie down +and die, for the wolves to pick his bones." + +It is impossible to put in words the young speaker's tones, mingled, as +they were, of sadness, ridicule and mirth, while Cracis drew a deep, +long breath and said, softly: + +"Brave as a lion, strong beyond the limits of ordinary men; and yet, +poor faithful Serge, what a child he is at heart! Don't tell him what I +said, boy. That is a piece of confidence between ourselves." + +"But it's all so real, father. If you are angry with me you scold me, +and it's soon all over. I forget it all." + +"Yes, too soon, my boy, sometimes." + +"Oh, but I do try to go on right, father. But, you see, with poor old +Serge it all sticks. He's regularly wounded." + +"Yes, my boy, I know, and it's the sort of wound that will not heal. +Well, of course, that's all absurd. He mustn't go." + +"He will, father, if something isn't done." + +"Yes, I am afraid he would; so something must be done. Who is in the +wrong, boy--I or he?" + +"It's this--_I_, father." + +"Of course," said Cracis, laughing; "but I think I am in the right. The +master, if right, cannot humble himself to his man if he is in this +position, Marcus. If he is in the wrong it is noble and brave to give +way. Tell Serge to come to me at once. I will try to set him at one +with me; the sooner this is set aside the better for us all." + +"Thank you, father," cried the boy, excitedly; and hurrying out he made +for the back of the villa, where he found Serge in his own particular +den, hard at work packing the various accoutrements, but evidently +finding it difficult to make them fit. + +"Well, I've been and talked to father, Serge," cried Marcus, quickly. + +"That's right, boy," said the old soldier, without turning his head. + +"I told him you were packing up the armour." + +"Yes? Hard work. The things don't lie easy one with another, and we +mustn't have the helmets bruised. The shields don't lie so flat as I +could wish, but--" + +"Father wants you, Serge." + +"What for, boy? What for?" + +"To talk to you about you know what." + +"Then you've told him I'm going away?" + +"Of course." + +"Then it's of no use for me to go and see him." + +"But that's what he wishes to speak about." + +"Yes, and I know how he can talk and get round a man. Why, if I went to +his place yonder he'd talk me into stopping, and I'm not going to do +that now." + +"Nonsense! Father only wants to say a few words more. He has forgiven +you--I mean, us--and, after he has spoken, everything will be as it was +before. He says it's all nonsense about your going away." + +Serge nodded. + +"Yes, I knew he'd say that, my boy. Of course he would." + +"Well," said Marcus, impatiently, "isn't that what you want?" + +"No, not now, boy. Things can never be the same again." + +"Why not?" cried Marcus. + +"Because they can't, boy." + +"Oh, Serge, don't be so obstinate!" + +"No, my lad, not obstinate; only doing what's right. I can't help +what's done, nor what's said." + +"But don't stop talking, Serge. Father wants to see you at once." + +The old soldier shook his head and went on packing with increased +vigour. + +"Well, why don't you go?" cried Marcus, impatiently. + +"I daren't," said the man, frowning. + +"Then that's because you feel you're in the wrong, Serge." + +"Yes, boy, that's it; I'm in the wrong, and the master knows it, so it's +of no use for me to go." + +"Oh, Serge," cried Marcus, "you do make me so angry when you will keep +on like this. Look here, Serge." + +"No," said the man, sourly, "and it's of no use for you to talk, boy, +because my mind's made up. You want to talk me round, same as your +father, the master, would. I've done wrong, and I told him so. It's +all because I tried to make a good soldier of you, as is what Nature +meant you to be, and he can't forgive me for that. He couldn't even if +he tried. There, that's better--you lie there, and that'll make more +room for the boy's helmet. Yes, that'll do. Swords lie on each side +under the shields and keep them steady," he continued, apostrophising +the different portions of the military equipment, as he worked very +rapidly now in spite of Marcus' words, till the whole of the war-like +pieces were to his liking and the chest quite full, when he closed the +lid and sat upon it as if to think, with his eyes fixed upon one corner +of the place. + +"There, now are you satisfied?" cried Marcus. "Fortunately, father is +reading, and he will not notice how long you have been. You've made me +horribly impatient. Now go in to him at once and get it over." + +"I shall only want a little bundle and my staff," said Serge, as if to +himself. "That is mine, for I cut it in the forest and shaped and +trimmed it myself. Yes, that's all." + +"Aren't you going to take the chest into father's room?" said Marcus, +quietly. + +"Eh? No, my lad." + +"But he told you to." + +"Yes, boy, but it was after all was over, and I can't face him again." + +"Then you are going off without saying good-bye to him?" + +The old soldier nodded. + +"And you are not going in to see him after he has sent for you to come?" + +"No, boy," said the old soldier, with a sigh. "It's the only way. I'm +just going to take my bundle and my stick, and then I'm going off at +once--_alone_," he added, meaningly. + +"No, you're not, Serge, for someone else can be stubborn too." + +"What do you mean?" cried the man, sharply. + +"What I told you. I'm coming too." + +"Nay, boy, you're not; your father would stop that, and you must obey +him," cried Serge, angrily. + +"No, I mustn't," said Marcus. + +"What! Sons must obey their fathers." + +"And soldiers must obey their officers." + +"But he's not my officer now." + +"Yes, he is," cried Marcus, angrily; "your officer as well as my father. +If you go, Serge, I shall go, and I don't care where it is." + +"He'd never forgive you," cried the old soldier, angrily. + +"Well, I should take my chance of that. You know me, Serge. When I say +I'll do a thing I do it; and I shall do this, for I don't mean to let +you go away from here alone. Now what have you got to say?" + +The old soldier got up from the shut-down lid of the chest, walked to +the corner of the room, and took his crook-like staff, to which a rough +bundle was already tied, and then he stepped back to where Marcus was +seated upon the edge of the table which had so lately borne the armour +carefully spread out. + +"Good-bye, Marcus, boy," he said, holding out his hand. + +The lad sprang from the table and made for the door. + +"Won't you say good-bye, Marcus?" cried Serge, pitifully. + +"No," was the short, sharp reply. "What's the good? But stop a moment. +I'd better go and shut up Lupus, or he'll come bounding after us and we +shan't get rid of him again." + +"Oh!" roared the old soldier, angrily, and he dashed his bundle and +staff across the room to the corner from which they had been taken. +"You're both of you too much for me." + +"Come on, Serge, old fellow," said Marcus, softly, as he took his old +companion by the arm. "Shall I come in to father with you?" + +"No!" growled Serge. "I'm going to be beat, and I'll go alone." + +The next minute his steps were heard plodding heavily towards his +master's study, and, as he listened Marcus burst out into a merry, +silent laugh. + +"Poor old Serge!" he said. "How father hurt his feelings! He'll never +leave us while he lives, but I believe if he had gone away it would have +broken his heart. Well, that's all over, and things will be all right +again." + +The boy stood thinking for a few minutes, and then he sighed. + +"My poor old sword and shield," he said, half aloud; "and the helmet and +armour too! Oh, how grand it was! When I had them on I used to feel as +if I was marching with a successful army coming from the wars, and now +it's all over and I must sit and read and write, and the days will seem +so dull with nothing exciting, nothing bright, no war in the future-- +Yes, there will be," he cried; "there'll be those boys. They'll be +coming on again as the grapes turn black. Yes," he went on, with a +merry laugh, "and if they come I'll make some of them turn black. No +war! I'll make war with them, with old Serge and Lupus for allies. And +then the winter will come again, and there'll be the wolves. Why, +there'll be plenty to think of, after all." + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN. + +COMPANY COMES. + +"I want to go out," said Marcus to himself, one morning, as he sat at +the little table exclusively his. + +There was a small volume, a double roll tied round by a band of silk, +his tablets and stylus were before him, the latter quite blank, and the +window was open, giving him a glorious view of the distant, sunlit +mountains, while the air that was wafted in through the vine leaves was +rich in delicious odours that came gratefully to his nostrils. + +"But I can't go out," he said; "I have all that writing to do, and the +first thing when father comes back will be to ask me how much I have +done. And here have I been sitting for long enough and have not +scratched a word. I wonder how soon he will come?" + +The boy sat silently for a few minutes watching some twittering young +birds that were playing in the garden trees, chasing one another from +twig to twig in the full enjoyment of their life in the transparent +atmosphere. + +"I wish I were a bird!" sighed the boy, and then half passionately: "Oh, +what a lazy dog I am! I am always longing to be or do something else +than what I am. But look at that," he said, dropping into his dreamy +way again. "How beautiful it must be to throw oneself off the very top +of a tree and go floating and gliding about just where one likes, with +no books to study, nothing to write, only play about in the sunshine, +covered with clothes of the softest down; no bother about a house to +live in or a bed, but just when the sun goes down sing a bit about how +pleasant life is as one sits on a twig, and then tuck one's head under +one's wing, stick one's feathers up till one looks like a ball, and go +to sleep till the Sun rises again. Oh, how glorious to be a bird! Ha, +ha, ha!" he cried, with a merry laugh, "Old Serge is right. He says I +am a young fool, when he's in the grumps, and I suppose I am to think +like that; but it seems a life so free from trouble to be a bird, till a +cat comes, or a weasel, or perhaps a snake, and catches one on the +ground, or a hawk when one's flying in the air, or one of the noisy old +owls when one's roosting in the ivy at night. And then squeak-- +scrunch--and there's no more bird. Everything has to work, I suppose, +and nothing is able to do just as it pleases. That's what father says, +and, of course, it's true; but somehow I should like to go out this +morning, but I can't; I have to stick here and write. There's father +gone off, and old Serge too. I wonder where he's gone. Right away into +the forest, of course, to look after the swine, or else into the fields +to see whether something's growing properly, and mind that the men keep +to work and are not lying snoozing somewhere in the shade. Oh, how +beautiful it looks out of doors!" + +Marcus sat gazing longingly out of the window, and then apparently, for +no reason at all, raised his right hand and gave himself a sharp slap on +the side of the head. + +"Take that, you lazy brute!" he cried. "Of course you can't do your +work if you sit staring out of the window. Turn your back to it, sir, +and look inside where you will only see the wall. No wonder you can't +work." + +He jumped up quickly, raised his stool, and was in the act of turning it +round, giving a final glance through the window before he began to work +in earnest, when he stopped short and set down the stool again. + +"There's somebody coming along the road," he said. "Who's he? Dressed +just like father, in his long, white toga. Wonder where he's going, and +who he is? Some traveller, I suppose, seeing the country and enjoying +himself." + +The boy stood watching the stranger for a few moments. + +"Why, where can he be going?" he said. "That path only leads here and +to our fields. He can't be coming here, because nobody ever comes to +see us, and father doesn't seem to have any friends. Perhaps he wants +to see Serge about buying some pigs or corn, or to sell some young +goats? Yes, that's it, I should think. He wants to sell something. +No; it can't be that; he doesn't look the sort of man. Look at that +smooth-shaven face and short-cut hair. He seems quite a patrician, just +like father. What can he want? Here, how stupid!" cried the boy, as he +saw the stranger stop short a little distance from the villa front and +begin to look about him as if admiring the beauty of the place and the +distant scene. "I know; he's a traveller, and he's lost his way." + +Excited by his new thought, Marcus hurried out and down the garden, +catching the attention of the stranger at once, who smiled as he looked +with the eyes of curiosity at the bright, frank lad, while he took out a +handkerchief and stood wiping his dewy face. + +"Lost your way?" cried Marcus. + +"Well, not quite," was the reply; "but I know very little of these +parts." + +"I do," said Marcus, "laughing always, and have. I'll show you if you +tell me where you want to go." + +"Thank you," said the stranger, gravely and quietly; and the boy thought +to himself once more that he was no dealer or trader, but some patrician +on his travels, and he noted more particularly the clear skin, and +clean-cut features of a man thoughtful and strong of brain, who spoke +quietly, but in the tones of one accustomed to command. + +"You have a beautiful place here, my boy," he continued, as he looked +round and seemed to take in everything; "fields, woodlands, garden. +Fruit too--vines and figs. An attractive house too. The calm and quiet +of the country--a tired man could live very happily here." + +"Yes, of course," cried Marcus and with a merry laugh, "a boy too!" + +"Hah! Yes," said the stranger, smiling also, as he gazed searchingly in +the boy's clear eyes. "So you lead a very happy life here, do you?" + +"Oh yes!" + +"But not alone?" said the stranger. + +"Oh no, of course not," cried Marcus. "There's father, and old Serge, +and the labourers and servants." + +"Yes, a very pleasant place," said the stranger, as he once more wiped +his dewy face. + +"You look hot," said the boy. "Come in and sit down for a while and +rest. It's nice and shady in my room, and you get the cool breeze from +the mountains." + +"Thank you, my boy, I will," said the stranger, and he followed Marcus +through the shady garden and into the lately vacated room, where the boy +placed a chair, and his visitor sank into it with a sigh of relief. + +"Have you walked far?" he asked. + +"Yes, some distance," was the reply; "but the country is very beautiful, +especially through the woodlands, and very pleasant to one who is fresh +from the hot and crowded city." + +"The city!" cried Marcus, eagerly. "You don't mean Rome?" + +"I do mean Rome," said the visitor, leaning back smiling, and with his +eyes half closed, but keenly reading the boy the while. "Have you ever +been there?" + +"Oh no," said Marcus, quickly, "but I know all about it. My father +often used to tell me about Rome." + +"Your father? May I ask who your father is?" + +"Cracis," said the boy, drawing himself up proudly, as if he felt it an +honour to speak of such a man. "He used to live in Rome. You've come +from there. Did you ever hear of him?" + +"Cracis? Cracis? Yes, I have heard the name. Is he at home?" + +"No; he went out this morning; but I daresay he will be back soon. +Serge is out too." + +"Serge?" said the stranger. + +"Yes; our man who superintends the farm. He was an old soldier, and +knew Rome well. He was in the wars." + +"Ha!" said the stranger. "And they are both away?" + +"Yes; but you are tired, sir, and look faint. I'll come back directly." + +Marcus hurried from the room, but returned almost immediately, laden +with a cake of bread, a flask and cup, and a bunch or two of grapes +lying in an open basket. + +"Ha, ha!" said the visitor, smiling. "Then you mean to play the host to +a tired stranger?" + +"Of course," said the boy. "That is what father would do if he were at +home." + +"And the son follows his father's teaching, eh?" + +Marcus smiled, and busied himself in pouring out a cup of wine and +breaking the bread, which he pressed upon his guest, who partook of both +sparingly, keenly watching the boy the while. + +"The rest is good," he said, as he caught the boy's eye, "the room cool +and pleasant, and these most refreshing. You will let me rest myself +awhile? I might like to see your father when he comes." + +"Oh, of course," cried the boy. "Father will be very glad, I am sure. +We so seldom have anyone to see us here." + +Quite unconsciously the boy went on chatting, little realising that he +was literally answering his visitor's questions and giving him a full +account of their life at the villa and farm. + +He noted how sparingly his visitor ate and drank, and pressed him +hospitably to partake of more, but, after a few minutes, the guest +responded by smilingly waving the bread and wine aside. + +"_Quantum sufficit_, my boy," he said; "but I will eat a few of your +grapes." + +He broke off a tiny bunch, and went on talking as he glanced around. + +"Your studies?" he said, pointing to the tablets and stylus. "And you +read?" + +"Oh yes," said the boy. "My father teaches me. He is a great student." + +"Indeed?" said the guest. "And are you a great student too?" + +"No," cried Marcus, merrily; "only a great stupid boy!" + +"Very," said the visitor, sarcastically. "Well, and what are you going +to be when you grow up?" + +"Oh, a student too, and a farmer, I suppose." + +"Indeed! Why, a big, healthy, young lad like you ought to be a soldier, +and learn to fight for his country, like a true son of Rome." + +"Hah!" cried Marcus, flushing up and frowning, while the visitor watched +him intently. + +"I knew just such a boy as you who grew up to be a general, a great +soldier as well as a student who could use his pen." + +"Ah, that's what I should like to be," cried the boy, springing from his +seat with his eyes flashing, as his imagination seemed fired. "That's +what Serge says." + +"What does Serge say?" asked the visitor. + +"Just what you do," cried the boy, boldly; "that I might grow up to be a +great soldier, and still read and use my pen." + +"Well, why not?" said the guest, as he slowly broke off and ate a grape. + +The boy frowned and shook his head. + +"It is a man's duty to be ready to draw his sword for his country like a +brave citizen, and that country's son," continued the guest, warmly, +while the boy watched him eagerly, and leaned forward with one hand +resting upon the table as if he was drinking in every word that fell +from the other's lips. + +"Yes, that's what Serge says," he cried, "and that it is a great and +noble thing for a man to be ready to die for his country if there is any +need." + +"But it is pleasanter to live, my boy," said the visitor, smiling, "and +to be happy with those we love, with those whom we are ready to defend +against the enemy. You must be a soldier, then--a defender of your +land." + +"No," said the boy, quickly, and he gave his head a quick shake. "It +can never be." + +"Why?" + +"Because my father says `no.'" + +The visitor raised his brows a little, and then, leaning forward +slightly to gaze into the boy's eyes, he said, softly: + +"Why does your father say that?" + +"Because people are ungrateful and jealous and hard, and would ill-use +me, the same as they did him and drove him away from Rome." + +The visitor tightened his lips and was silent, sitting gazing past the +boy and through the window, so full of thought that he broke off another +grape, raised it to his lips, and then threw it through the opening into +a tuft of flowers beyond. + +"Ah!" he said, at last, as his eyes were turned again towards the boy. +"And so you are going to live here then, and only be a student?" + +"Of course," said the boy, proudly. "It is my father's wish." + +"And you know nothing, then, about a soldier's life?" + +"Oh, yes, I do," cried the boy, with his face lighting up. + +"Hah! Then your father has taught you to be a soldier and man?" + +"Oh, no; he has taught me to read and write. It was some one else who +taught me how to use a sword and spear." + +"Hah!" cried the visitor, quickly. "Then you are not all a student?" + +"Oh, no." + +"You know how to use a sword?" + +"Yes," said Marcus, laughing, "and a spear and shield as well," and, +warming up, the boy began to talk quickly about all he had learned, +ending, to his visitor's great interest, with a full account of his +training in secret and his father's discovery and ending of his +pursuits. + +"Well, boy," said the guest, at last, "it seems a pity." + +"For me to tell you all this?" cried Marcus, whose face was still +flushed with excitement. "Yes, I oughtn't to have spoken and said so +much, but somehow you questioned me and seemed to make me talk." + +"Did I?" said the visitor. "Well, I suppose I did; but what I meant was +that it seems a pity that so promising a lad should only be kept to his +books. But there, a good son is obedient to his father, and his duty is +to follow out his commands." + +"Yes," said the boy, stoutly, "and that's what Serge says." + +"Then he doesn't want you to be a soldier now?" + +"No," cried the boy. "He says one of the first things a soldier learns +is to obey." + +"Ah!" said the visitor, looking at the boy with his quiet smile. "I +should like to know this old soldier, Serge." + +"You soon can," said the boy, laughing. "Here he comes!" For at that +moment there was the deep bark of a dog. + +"The dog?" said the visitor. + +"Oh, that's our wolf-hound, Lupe. It means that Serge is coming back." + +The boy had hardly spoken when the man's step was heard outside, and, +directly after, as Marcus' guest sat watching the door, it was thrust +open, and the old soldier entered, saying: "Has the master come back, my +lad?" and started back, staring at the sight of the stranger. + +"Not yet, Serge. This is a gentleman, a traveller from Rome, who is +sitting down to rest." + +Serge drew himself up with a soldierly salute, which was received with +dignity, and, as eyes met, the stranger looked the old warrior through +and through, while Serge seemed puzzled and suspicious, as he slowly +raised his hand and rubbed his head. + +"Yes," said the visitor, "your young master has been playing the kindly +host to a weary man. Why do you look at me so hard? You know my face?" + +"No," said Serge, gruffly; "no. But I think I have seen someone like +you before." + +"And I," said the visitor, "have seen many such like you, but few who +bear such a character as your young master gives." + +"Eh?" cried Serge, sharply. "Why, what's he been saying about me?" + +"Told me what a brave old soldier you have been." + +"Oh! Oh! Stuff!" growled Serge, sourly. + +"And of how carefully you have taught him the duties of a soldier, and +told him all about the war." + +"There!" cried Serge, angrily, stepping forward to bring his big, hairy +fist down upon the table with a thump. "I don't know you, or who you +are, but you have come here tired, and been given refreshment and rest, +and, instead of being thankful, you have been putting all sorts of +things in this boy's head again that he ought to have forgot." + +"Serge! Serge!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "Mind what you are saying! +This is a stranger, and a noble gentleman from Rome." + +"I don't care who he is," replied the old soldier, fiercely. "He's no +business to be coming here and talking like this. Now, look here, sir," +he continued, turning upon the visitor, who sat smiling coldly with his +eyes half closed, "this lad's father, my old officer--and a better never +stepped or led men against Rome's enemies--gave me his commands, and +they were these: that young Marcus here was to give up all thoughts of +soldiering and war, and those commands, as his old follower, I am going +to carry out. So, as you have eaten and are rested, the sooner you go +on your journey the better, and leave us here at peace." + +"Serge!" cried Marcus, firmly; and he drew himself up with his father's +angry look, "you mean well, and wish to do your duty, but this is not +the way to speak to a stranger and my father's guest." + +"He's not your father's guest, my lad, but yours, and he's taken upon +himself to say to you what he shouldn't say, and set you against your +father's commands." + +"Even if he has, Serge, he must be treated as a guest--I don't know your +name, sir," continued the boy, turning to the visitor, "but in my +father's name I ask you to forgive his true old servant's blunt, honest +speech." + +The visitor rose, grave and stern. + +"It is forgiven, my boy," he said; "for after hearing what he has said I +can only respect him for his straightforward honesty. My man, I am an +old soldier too. I regret that I have spoken as I did, and I respect +you more and more. Rome lost a brave soldier when you left her ranks. +Will you shake hands?" + +Serge drew back a little, and looked puzzled. + +"Yes, give me your hand," said the visitor. "I am rested and refreshed, +but I am not yet going away. I am going to stay and see Cracis, who was +once my dear old friend." + +"You knew my master?" cried Serge, with the puzzled look deepening in +his eyes. + +"Thoroughly," was the reply, "and we have fought together in the past. +He will forgive me what I have said, as I do you, and I shall tell him +when he comes how glad I am to see that he has such a son and is so +bravely served." + +For answer the old soldier hesitatingly took the proffered hand, and +then gladly made his retreat, the pair following him slowly out into the +shady piazza, where they stood watching till he disappeared, when the +visitor, after glancing round, gathered his toga round him, and sank +down into a stone seat, beside one of the shadow-flecked pillars, +frowning heavily the while. + +"He means well, sir," said Marcus, hastily; "but I'm sure my father +would have been sorry if he had heard. I am glad, though, that I asked +you in." + +"Why?" said the visitor, with a peculiar look in his eyes. + +"Because you say you are an old friend of his, and, of course, I didn't +know. It was only out of civility that I did so." + +"Yes, so I suppose," was the reply. "Poor fellow! Your man meant +well," continued the visitor, with his whole manner changed, and he +spoke in a half-mocking, cynical way which puzzled and annoyed the boy. +"A poor, weak, foolish fellow, though, who hardly understands what he +meant. Don't you think he was very weak, bull-headed and absurd?" + +"Well--no," said the boy, quickly, and his face began to flush, and grew +the deeper in tint as he noticed a supercilious, mocking smile playing +upon the visitor's lips. "Serge is a very true, honest fellow, and +thought he was doing right." + +"Yes, of course," said the other, "but some people in meaning to do +right often commit themselves and do great wrong." + +"But you knew my father well?" said Marcus, hastily, to change the +conversation. "I never heard him mention you." + +"No, I suppose not," said the visitor, thoughtfully, but with a mocking +smile upon his lip growing more marked as he went on. "I don't suppose +he would ever mention me. A very good, true fellow, Cracis, and, as I +said, we were once great friends. But a weak and foolish man who got +into very great trouble with the Senate and with me. There was great +trouble at the time, and I had to defend him." + +"You had to defend my father?" said Marcus, turning pale, and with a +strange sensation rising in his breast. "What for?" + +"Why, there was that charge of cowardice--the retreat he headed from the +Gaulish troops," continued the visitor, watching the boy intently all +the while. "He was charged with being a coward, and--" + +"It was a lie!" cried the boy, fiercely. "You know it was a lie. My +father is the bravest, truest man that ever lived, and you who speak so +can be no friend of his. Old Serge was right, for he saw at once what +kind of man you are. How dare you speak to me like that! Go, sir! +Leave this house at once." + +"Go, boy?" said the visitor, coldly, and with a look of suppressed anger +gathering in his eyes. "And suppose that I refuse to go at the bidding +of such a boy as you?" + +"Refuse?" cried Marcus, fiercely. "You dare to refuse?" + +"Yes, boy, I refuse. And what then?" + +"This!" cried the boy, overcome with rage, and, raising his hand, he +made a dash as if about to strike, just as a step was heard, and, calmly +and thoughtfully, Cracis walked out into the piazza. + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT. + +THAT GREAT MAN. + +For a few moments there was utter silence, Cracis looking as if stunned, +and a slight colour beginning to appear in the visitor's pallid cheeks +as he stood gazing at Marcus' father, waiting for him to speak, while +Cracis after catching his son's wrist and snatching him back, and +without taking his eyes from their visitor, found words at last to +speak. + +"Are you mad, boy?" he exclaimed, hoarsely. "Do you know who this is?" + +"No, father," cried the boy, passionately, "only that he is a man who +has dared to speak ill of you." + +"Ah!" said Cracis, slowly, and with his face softening, as he pressed +the boy's arm; and then, in a voice full of dignity and pride: "May I +ask why Caius Julius has condescended to visit my humble home?" + +"I have come as a friend, Cracis," was the reply. + +"To continue your old enmity, and in mine absence revile me to my son?" + +"Revile? Nonsense!" cried his visitor. "It was by accident. I came, +and found you away, and reviled you?--no! I was but speaking to try +your brave and spirited boy. I never for a moment thought that he would +fire up as he did with all his father's spirit and readiness to resent a +wrong." + +"Indeed?" said Cracis, coldly. + +"Indeed," replied the visitor. "Only a few minutes ago I was telling +your boy how that once we were the greatest of friends. Did I not?" he +said quickly, turning to Marcus. + +"Yes, father, that is right," cried Marcus. "He praised you very highly +at first, and said he was your friend." + +"My friend!" said Cracis, bitterly. "My greatest enemy, he meant." + +"I was, Cracis, in the past. In my ignorance and pride it was only +after we had parted that I learned all that I had lost in my separation +from my bravest colleague, my truest and wisest counsellor." + +"And now," said Cracis, coldly, "you have found out the truth and have +tracked me to my home to accuse me with some base invention to my son." + +"Believe me, no!" cried Julius, warmly, and he held out his hand. +"Cracis, after much thought and battling with my pride, the pride that +has come with the position to which I have climbed, I have mastered self +so as to come humbly to my oldest and best friend." + +"Why?" said Cracis. + +"Because you are the only man I know whose counsel I can respect, and in +whom I could fully trust." + +"My greatest enemy comes to me to utter words like these, in the +presence of my son?" + +"Yes, and I am proud that he should hear them, so that he may fully +understand that, when I spoke to him lightly as I did, it was but to +test him, to try his spirit, to see whether he was fully worthy to bear +his great father's name." + +Cracis was silent for a few moments, gazing searchingly into his +visitor's eyes, which met his frankly and without blenching. + +"Is this the truth?" said Cracis, sternly. + +"The simple truth. Cracis, we were great friends once, and later the +greatest enemies; but in all those troubles of the past did we ever +doubt each other's words?" + +"Never," said Cracis, proudly. "But there is a reason for all this-- +something more than a late repentance for the injuries you have done me +in the years that have gone. I ask you again--why have you come?" + +"For our country's sake. I have climbed high since we parted, but only +to stand more and more alone, till now, perhaps at the most critical +period of my life, I have been forced to look around me for help, for a +man in whom I can place implicit trust, who will give me his counsel in +the State, and stand beside me in the perils that lie ahead. Cracis, +there is only one man in whom I could trust like that, one only who +would bare his sword and fight bravely by my side, and you are he." + +Cracis was silent as he shook his head slowly and turned his eyes away +from his visitor, to let them rest upon his son's upturned face, as the +boy gazed at him in wonder and astonishment at what he heard. + +"You do not believe me," cried Julius. "You think that something is +underlying all this," and he spoke with deep earnestness, his voice +broken and changed. + +"Yes," said Cracis; "I cannot do otherwise. I do believe you--every +word." + +"Then why do you speak so coldly and calmly, when I come to you +penitent, to humble myself to you and ask your help?" + +"I speak coldly like this," said Cracis, "because I am fighting hard to +beat down the feelings of pride and triumph that the time has come when +he who drove me from my high position in Rome has sought me out to make +so brave and manly an appeal, for, knowing you as I do to the very core, +I can feel the battle that you must have had with self before you +stooped--you, great general as you are--to come and tell me that you +need my help." + +"Stooped!" cried the other. "No, Cracis, that is an ill-chosen word. +It is that I have mastered self and cast away all pride and weakness so +that I might come to you and say: `For the sake of the old times, help +me in this bitter pass, so fraught with peril as it is'; and say, `I +forgive the bygones, and be to me as my brother once again.'" + +Cracis was silent, and stood drawing his son closer to him so that he +could rest his arm upon the boy's shoulder, while his visitor stood +before him with his white robe gathered up so as to leave free his +extended arm. + +For a few minutes neither spoke, and from the garden there came loud and +clear the joyous trilling of the birds. + +"You do not take my hand," said Caius Julius, passionately. + +"No, not yet," said Cracis; "but do not mistake me. There is no +bitterness or pride left in my breast. That died out years ago. I am +only thinking." + +"Ha!" cried his visitor, with a sigh of relief, "and forgetting the +courtesy due to a long-estranged friend." + +"Caius Julius, sit down. You are welcome to my simple, humble home. +Marcus, my boy, you can believe that all our visitor said was to try his +old friend's son to see of what metal he was made. He is a man who, for +years past, has found the necessity of testing those he would have to +trust, of placing them in the balance to try their worthiness and +weight. Boy, we are honoured to-day by the presence of Rome's greatest +son, your father's oldest friend, then his greatest enemy, and now, in +the fulness of time, his brother once again." + +As he spoke he took a step forward with extended hands, which the future +conqueror of the world clasped at once in his own, and once more there +was silence in the room. + +A minute later Cracis drew back and motioned to his son, who, earnest +and alert, stepped forward, to find himself clasped to their visitor's +breast, before he was released, to draw back wondering whether he liked +or hated this man of whose prowess he had heard so much, and stood +gazing at him wonderingly, as Julius, the Caesar yet to be, sank back, +quivering with emotion, in the nearest seat. + +A few minutes later Marcus stood trying to catch his father's eye, for +he too had sunk into a chair and sat back gazing away through the open +window at the sunlit hills. + +At last he turned his eye upon his son and read the question in his +speaking face. + +"Yes, boy," he said, "you may leave us now. My old friend has much to +say, and I too have much to think. Go and see that proper preparations +are made for our guest. You will honour us--No," he continued, with a +pleasant smile, as he turned to his guest, "we are very simple here, but +you will be welcome and stay here to-night." + +"Gladly," cried Julius, eagerly. "Believe me, I shall be proud, for I +have gained my ends." + +"Not yet," said Cracis, gravely. "It means so much, and I must have the +night to think. There, Marcus, boy, you know what should be done. +Leave us for a while." + +The boy hurried away, to seek the servants, and then to make for Serge, +but checked himself before he was half way to his old companion's room. + +"Not yet," he said. "How do I know that I ought to speak?" And he drew +back with a feeling of relief on seeing that the old soldier was right +away crossing one of the fields. "It would not have been right without +speaking to my father first," thought Marcus. "I wonder what they are +saying now?" + + + +CHAPTER NINE. + +THE OLD ARMOUR. + +When Marcus went to bed his habit was to drop his head upon his pillow, +close his eyes in the darkness, and, as it seemed to him, open them the +next minute to find it was broad daylight, and spring out of bed; but, +almost for the first time in his life, he, that night, lay tossing +about, thinking how hot it was, getting in and out of bed to open the +window wider or to close it again, changing from side to side, and +trying as hard as he possibly could to go off to sleep; and, even when +at last he succeeded, it seemed that he had suddenly plunged into a new +state of wakefulness in which he was listening to Caius Julius and then +quarrelling with him. + +Then his father seemed mixed up with his dream, and all kinds of the +wildest imaginings came forming processions through his fevered brain. +Armies of barbarians were marching to attack Rome. His father was a +great warrior and general once again, fighting to save his country. +Then he was the quiet student once more in his white toga, chiding him +for his love of arms and armour; and, directly after, Serge seemed to +come upon the scene, to catch their strange visitor by the ankle with +his crook and threaten to thrash him for breaking down the fir-poles and +stealing the grapes. + +From dreams peopled in this incongruous way the boy woke up again and +again, making up his mind that he would not go to sleep any more to be +worried by what he termed such a horrible muddle. + +The night, which generally passed so quickly, seemed as if it would +never end, and when at last he did start up from perhaps the worst and +most exciting dream of all, to find that the sun was just about to rise, +he sprang off his bed with a sigh of relief, dressed, and went out into +the garden to have what he called a good rest. + +His intention was to go round to the back and rouse up Serge, not to +make any confidence, but just to have a talk about the coming of the +visitor and the surly reception the old soldier had given to his +father's friend; but, before he had gone many yards, a gleam of +something white amongst the trees caught his attention, and he found +himself face to face with his father. + +"You out so soon?" he cried, in astonishment. + +"Yes, boy; it has been no time for sleep. I have had too much to think +about." + +"But, father--" began the boy. + +Cracis held up his hand. + +"Wait," he said. "Our visitor, Marcus, seems to have been as sleepless +as I; here he comes." For at the same moment they caught sight of Caius +Julius leaving the doorway; and, upon seeing them, he came quickly to +join them, with extended hand. + +The rest of that morning seemed afterwards one whirl of confusion to +Marcus, in which he could recall his father's words to their visitor, +and his quiet, grave declaration of how much it meant to him to have to +give up his calm and peaceful home and its surroundings to plunge at +once into the toil, excitement and care of public life. + +Marcus recalled too how, divining how they seemed to wish to be alone, +he had left them pacing up and down beneath the shading vines, talking +earnestly, while he consoled himself by joining Serge, who was in as +great a state of excitement as himself and literally pelted him with +questions which he could not answer, making the old soldier turn from +him fiercely after telling him that he might speak out if he liked, +instead of being so obstinate and refusing to trust him with what he +knew. + +Serge went off in high dudgeon, while, hardly giving him a thought, +Marcus strolled back towards the garden in the hope that his father +would take some notice of him and call him to his side. + +It was then approaching mid-day, and this time he was not disappointed, +for, as soon as the boy appeared, Cracis signed to him to approach. + +"Come here, Marcus," he said; and the boy noticed that their visitor +smiled at him in a satisfied way. + +"I am going away, my boy," he said, "to leave our quiet little home, on +very serious business." + +"Soon, father?" cried Marcus, excitedly, as his father stopped short. + +"Very soon, boy--now--at once. That is, as soon as I can make my +preparations." + +Marcus drew a deep breath. + +"You are going to follow--him?" + +"I am going with my old friend Caius Julius." + +"And you'll take me with you, father?" + +Cracis was silent for a few moments, and he sighed deeply as he laid his +hand upon his son's head. + +"No, my boy; I must leave you behind. I am going to take part in a +great struggle." + +"A great struggle, father? You don't mean a war?" + +"Yes, my boy, I do mean a war." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Marcus, and he turned sharply upon their visitor, +looking the question he longed to put, while Caius Julius met his eyes +and bowed in silence. + +"You are too young," said Cracis, slowly; "and now I want you to help me +for the short time I am here making my preparations." + +"Yes, father," cried the boy, in a choking voice; "but I should like for +you to--" + +"Yes," said Cracis, interrupting him and speaking very firmly, "I know +what you would say--take you with me--but it cannot be. Now, Marcus, +you are only a boy, but I want you to let my old friend see that you can +act like a man. Do you understand?" + +"Yes, father." + +"Then look here, my boy. I reproved you and Serge rather harshly the +other day for what you had done--Serge especially, for treasuring up and +keeping in order my old war-like gear; but Marcus, one never knows what +Fate has in store for us. I could not foresee, neither, for that +matter, could he, what was so soon to come, but he did quite right. Now +then," he continued, sharply, "away with you at once, and get out all +the arms that I shall want, for I cannot leave here as student, but as a +soldier once again. You understand?" + +Marcus nodded, quickly. He could not trust himself to speak. + +"Go to my room then, at once, to the big, old chest. Stop!" he cried, +when Marcus was half way to the door. "Serge knows better than you. +Call him and take him with you to help you lay out what I shall require. +That will do. At once." + +His brain whirling with excitement, his heart sinking with +disappointment and despair, Marcus ran into the house, striving to make +duty conquer all, his first effort being to drag his thoughts from self +and condense them upon the task he had in hand. + +"Where shall I find Serge?" he muttered. "He'll be gone off somewhere +in the fields. Which way had I better go?" + +The question had hardly formed itself in his brain as he was hurrying +across the little court where the fountain played, when the big, burly +figure of the old soldier stopped his way. + +"Want me, boy?" he cried, hoarsely. + +"Yes, Serge. Father is going away at once." + +"With that Caius Julius?" cried the old soldier. "I know him now. It +seemed to come to me like this morning when I woke. What does it mean +then? The master a prisoner?" + +"No, Serge; he's going with him to the war. But come, quickly!" he +added, as the man stood staring at him as if struck speechless with +wonderment. "Don't talk--don't ask me questions. Father wants his +weapons and his armour at once. Come on. You are to help me get them +ready." + +The old soldier was standing before him with his herdsman's staff in his +hand as if ready to go off round the farm, and, drawing himself up, he +grasped the stout crook in both his hands, bent down, placed one knee +against it, and, with one effort of his great strength, snapped it +across his knee as if it were a twig and threw the pieces from him with +a gesture of contempt. + +"Hah!" he cried, with a deep expiration of his breath. "At last, boy! +The master is going to be himself again. There, don't talk to me! I +know! I have lain awake, boy, cursing that Caius Julius for coming here +to disturb the master's quiet life. He was his enemy always, and I +could see nothing in it but ill--blind fool that I was! I can bless him +now. Come on, boy! I know! Who was right now in keeping the swords +sharp and the armour bright?" + +The next minute the great chest had been dragged out into the middle of +Cracis' room and the old soldier was down upon his knees joyously +unpacking the war-like equipments that he had so sadly stowed away so +short a time before. + +They were all mingled together so as to make them fit and the great +chest contain them all, and as, taking the lead, Serge worked on, it was +with a rapid touch that he sorted the three suits, giving each its +place, his own armour and weapons, the more handsomely furnished +appertaining to his master, and those of the boy, which had been fitted +in. + +The two former portions he laid to right and left, and, as he drew them +forth, he sent pang after pang through the breast of Marcus, for it +seemed to him that Serge laid his father's offensive and defensive +pieces of accoutrement together with almost reverent care, banging his +own together heavily, while, as he dislodged those portions that had +been prepared and fitted with such pride to suit the youth who wore +them, they were pitched carelessly upon the bed to clash and jingle as +if in protest at being looked upon now, when reality ruled the occasion, +as toys and of no account. + +"Ah!" cried the old soldier, as, when he had nearly finished, he drew +out from the bottom of the chest the smallest of the shields and pitched +it so that it fell upon Cracis' pillow, suggesting to Marcus that the +man meant that it should lie there in his master's absence and sleep; +but Serge saw nothing of Marcus' agitated countenance, for he was gazing +into the future. + +"Here we are," he cried, as he lifted out his own and Cracis' shields +together, to stand them up on edge so that he could separate them, for +the loops and handles were tightly wedged together so that they seemed +loth to come apart. "How soon will he be coming here for me to gird him +up?" + +"Directly, he said, Serge," replied the boy. + +"Then you look sharp, my lad, and put those things of yours back into +the chest out of the way. I shall be wanting him to sit there while I +fasten some of his buckles and straps. To think of its coming to this +again!" he cried, joyously. "Why, how many years is it since I did it +last? Why, you were a little toddling boy, and here you are getting on +to be a man--man enough, Marcus, to help me and buckle on and hitch +together some of the slides and studs when I dress myself." + +Marcus nodded, with a look of despair and envy in his eyes, while the +old soldier bent down, caught up his old legionary helmet from the +floor, gave it a slap with one hand, and then placed it upon his head, +to draw himself up proudly before the boy, and give his foot a stamp, as +he struck an attitude and cried: + +"Burn my old straw hat, Marcus, when I am gone. This fits me again like +a shell does one of the old white snails, and makes me feel like a +soldier and a man again, instead of a herdsman and a serf." + +He had hardly finished speaking when the door was thrown open, and as if +imbued by his old follower's feelings, Cracis, no longer in his +movements the calm, grave student, but the general and leader of men +once more, strode quickly into the room and stopped short as the old +soldier drew himself up motionless in his helmet, stiffly awaiting his +officer's next command. + +It seemed to Marcus, too, no longer his calm, grave father who, the next +moment, spoke as he raised one hand and pointed at the helmet his man +had donned. + +"What is the meaning of this, Serge?" he said, sternly. + +"Only the thought of old times, general," cried Serge, sharply, and to +Marcus the man's manner struck him as being completely changed, for he +spoke shortly and bluntly, standing up as stiff and erect as before, and +then in his misery and disappointment there was something very near akin +to malicious triumph as his father said, sternly: + +"Tut, man! Take that off! Did you think you were going too?" + +Serge's jaw dropped. + + + +CHAPTER TEN. + +LEFT BEHIND. + +"Not going too, master?" cried Serge, as soon as he could recover +himself from a verbal blow which had, for the moment, seemed to crush +him down; and, as Marcus heard the hopeless despair in the poor fellow's +tones, the feeling of malicious triumph in his breast died away. + +"No," said Cracis, firmly; "your duty lies here." + +"Lies here, master?" stammered Serge. + +"Yes, man, here. Whom am I to leave in charge of my home? Who is to +protect my son if I take you with me?" + +"Home--Son?" faltered Serge. "But you, master--who is to protect you if +your old follower is left behind?" + +"I must protect myself, Serge," said Cracis, and his voice lost for the +moment the hard, firm sternness of the soldier. "Your duty is here, +Serge, and I look to you to carry it out. I leave you a greater charge +than that of following and trying to shield me." + +"No, no, master, no!" cried the old soldier, passionately. "I was with +you always. I followed you through the wars, and I've stood by you like +a man in peace. Once my master always my master while you could trust +me, and it must be so still." + +"No, Serge," cried Cracis, sternly. "I have told you your duty and now +give you your orders. Protect my property; watch over my son till my +return, if I ever do return," he added, sadly; "and if I fall, your +place is still here to stand by my son and follow him as you have +followed me." + +"But you will not let me follow you, master!" cried Serge, passionately. +"Oh, master, master! Young Marcus isn't a suckling; he's big and +strong enough to fend himself. I've been waiting all these years for +you to take your place as a soldier and a general once again! Don't-- +pray don't leave me behind!" + +"Serge," said Cracis, sternly, "you have led these years of peace, but +recollect that you are a soldier still. Man, your officer has given you +your orders--Obey!" + +As Marcus gazed at their old follower he seemed to have suddenly grown +old. His face was wrinkled, and the skin appeared to hang, while a +piteous look of despair filled his eyes as, throwing out his hands +towards one who seemed to him to be delivering his death sentence, he +fell heavily upon his knees and poured forth: + +"There, there, master, here's your sword, keener and brighter than ever. +Draw it and put me out of my misery at once. I won't say a word, only +give you a last look like that of a faithful hound who has died in your +service. Kill me at once, and let that be the end, but now that you are +coming to your rights again after all these weary years of waiting, and +are going to fight for brave old Rome, don't throw me over as if I was a +helpless log. Think what it means to an old soldier who never turned +his back upon an enemy in his life. Use your sword on me, master, if +you feel that I'm not the man to draw my own again; but don't--pray +don't leave me behind!" + +Marcus felt ready to join his petition to that of the old soldier, but +he could not speak, only stand and listen to his father's words, as he +stepped forward to lay his hand upon the man's shoulder. + +"Serge," he said, in a voice full of emotion--"brave old follower--true +old friend, I could sternly order you to obey my commands, but I can +only beg of you as you do of me. Rise up, man, and hear me. I would +gladly take you with me and have you always at my back, but we cannot do +everything we would. In my absence, Serge, your place is here to +protect my boy. It is your duty, and perhaps the last command I shall +ever give you, for the Gauls are stout warriors and it is no child's +play that takes me from my home. I beg, then, as well as order. Stay +and protect my son." + +"But you don't know, master, how you may be surrounded by enemies ready +to strike at you." + +"No," said Cracis, firmly, and there was a ring of command in his tones. +"Neither do I know how closely my boy may be hemmed in, and I want to +leave here with the peaceful feeling that, whatever happens, my son has +one beside him that I can always trust. Your duty, Serge, is here, and +I leave Marcus in your charge. Now, no more save this: Rise up like my +trusted servant. Duty calls me away, not only as a counsellor, but also +as one of my country's generals. Now help me with my armour, for I go +forth to fight. There have been words enough. Take the example of my +son. He feels the bitterness of being left behind as much as you. Now, +quick! We have lost too much time already. Caius Julius awaits my +coming, and my heart is burning to be free from all this suffering and +mental pain. Marcus, my boy, help him. It is the first time I ever +asked you to arm me as a soldier. Quick, boy, and let us get it done." + +Marcus sprang to his father's side, while, heavy and slow, Serge, as he +rose, tottered here and there as he busied himself over a task that had +not fallen to him for many long years, while a faint groan of misery +escaped his lips from time to time before the last metal loop had been +forced over its stud and then drawn into its place, the last buckle +drawn tight, and the armed cheek-straps of the great Robin helmet passed +beneath the general's chin. + +These final preparations made, Cracis stood, grave and thoughtful, +asking himself whether there was anything more he wished to do, anything +in the way of orders to give his servant and his son before he left his +home. + +"Leave me now, Marcus," he said. "I wish to be alone for a while. +Well," he continued, as the boy stood frowning and looking at him +wistfully, "why do you stay? You want to ask me something before I go?" + +These words stirred the boy into action, and he started to his father's +side; but, though his lips parted, no words came. + +"The time is gliding away, Marcus, my boy," said Cracis, sadly. "Come, +speak out. You want to ask some favour before I go?" + +"Yes, father, but after what you have said I hardly dare," cried the +boy, hoarsely. + +"Speak out, my son, boldly and bravely," said Cracis. "What is it you +wish to say?" + +"That there is yet time, father, before you go." + +"Time for what?" said Cracis, frowning as if he grasped what his son was +about to say. + +"Time for you to withdraw your command," cried the boy, desperately. +"Father, I can't help it; I could not stay behind here with you leaving +home for the wars. You must take me with you after all." + +Cracis frowned heavily. + +"Is this my son speaking?" he said, harshly. "After the commands I have +given you--after the way in which I have arranged for you to represent +me here, and take my place in all things? Where are all my teachings +about duty--have all flown to the winds?" + +"No, no, father," cried the boy, passionately; "but you cannot tell how +I feel. You do not know what it is to be left alone, and for me to see +you go." + +"You are wrong, my boy; I do know," cried Cracis; "and I may answer you +and say, neither do you know what it is for me to give up my happy home +and all belonging to me, to go hence never to return." + +"Oh, I do, I do, father! I can feel that it must be terrible," cried +the boy, excitedly; "but there is no need for you to go alone. I know +how young I am, but I could be of great help to you. I am sure I could. +So pray, pray don't leave me behind." + +"Is that all you have to say, Marcus?" said Cracis, sternly. + +"Ye-e-es, father," faltered the boy, in a despairing tone, for he could +read plainly enough in his father's eyes that his appeal had been in +vain. + +"Then leave me now, boy, and do not make my task harder by speaking like +this again. I have my duty to do towards my country and my home. My +duty to my country is to follow Caius Julius in the great venture he is +about to attempt; my duty to my home and son is to leave you here and +not expose you, at your age, to the horrors of this war." + +"But father!" cried the boy, wildly. + +"Silence, boy!" said Cracis, firmly. "Obey me. I will hear no more. +Go!" + +Marcus' lips parted to make one more appeal, but, as his eyes met his +father's where Cracis stood pointing towards the door, his own fell +again, and feeling mastered, crushed in his despair, he moved slowly +towards the door, his heart seeming to rise to his throat to strangle +him in the intense emotion from which he suffered; but, as soon as he +was outside, his elastic young spirit seemed to spring up again, and he +hurried to his room, to stand there thinking, with the resolve to make +one more strong effort to move his father's determination. + +"He does not--he cannot know what I feel," he said to himself with +energy. "I did not half try. I should have thrown myself at his feet +and prayed to him. No, no," said the boy, mournfully, as he felt more +and more the hopelessness of his cause. "It would have been no good. +Father is like iron in his will; he is so strong, I am so weak--He a +great man--I only a poor, feeble boy to be left behind to mind the +house, as if I were a girl! Oh, it's of no use; I must stay--I must +stay!" he half groaned, in his despair. "When perhaps I might help him +so, I and Serge, when he was in the fight, or--oh, if he were wounded! +Suppose he were cut down and bleeding, perhaps dying, and I not there to +help him! Oh, it's of no use to despair; I must--I will go. I know! +I'll appeal to Caius Julius; he will hear me, I feel sure." + +Full of enthusiasm once more, he hurried out of his room to seek for the +visitor, who had wrought such a change in their quiet home; but, as he +caught sight of him pacing slowly up and down the little inner court +close to the fountain, the boy's heart failed him again, for he recalled +the angry passage that had taken place between them the previous day-- +their visitor's half-mocking words, and his own burst of passion, which +had roused him into forgetting the sacred rites of hospitality and +raising his hand to strike. + +"I can't ask him; I dare not beg him to intercede," thought Marcus. "He +would only jeer at me for being a boy, and put me out of temper again. +But I must," he said. "It is for father's sake. Yes, I will. Why +should I mind? Let him laugh at me if he likes." + +Raising his courage he was on his way to their visitor's side when Caius +Julius turned and caught sight of the approaching boy. + +"Ah, Marcus," he said; "is your father nearly ready to go?" + +"Yes," cried the boy, "but--" + +He stopped short, for the words refused to come. + +"Well, what were you about to say?" said Julius, frowning. + +"Your father is not going to repent?" + +"Repent? About me?" cried the boy, excitedly. + +"About you, boy? Why should he repent about you?" + +"And let me go with him," cried Marcus, excitedly, as, forgetting all +his dislike, he caught his father's visitor by the robe and spoke +eagerly and well. "I want to go with him to the war." + +"You? To fight?" + +"Yes; I know I am young and weak--Yes, I know, only a boy, but I shall +grow strong, and it is not only to fight. I want to be there to help +him. He might be sick or wounded. He says I must stay at home here, +but I appeal to you. You can tell him how useful I could be. You will +tell him, sir, for I feel that I ought not--that I cannot stay here and +let him go alone." + +"Well spoken, my brave boy!" cried Caius Julius. "Spoken like a man! +So you, young as you are, would go with us?" + +"Yes, yes, of course," cried Marcus, in his wild excitement, as he +listened to this encouraging reception of his appeal. "I think I could +fight; but even if I could not there is so much that I could do." + +"And you would not feel afraid?" cried Julius, catching the boy by the +arm. + +"No--yes--no--I do not know," said the boy, colouring. "I hope not." + +"You do not know the horrors of a battlefield, boy," said Julius, fixing +Marcus with his keen eyes. + +"No," said Marcus, thoughtfully; "it must be very terrible, but I do not +think I should shrink. I should be thinking so much of my father." + +"Well, honestly and modestly spoken, boy," said Julius. "Why, you make +me feel full of confidence in your becoming as brave and great a man as +your father." + +"Oh no, sir," replied Marcus, sadly. "No one could be so great and +brave a man as he." + +"But you would follow us into the middle of the battle's horrors?" + +"Yes, sir, I would indeed; indeed I would," cried Marcus, eagerly. + +"I believe you, my boy, and all the more for your simple honesty of +speech." + +"And you will prevail upon my father to let me go?" cried Marcus, +appealingly. + +"I do not know," said Julius, thoughtfully. "You say that you have +begged hard and your father says that you must stay?" + +"Yes," cried Marcus, "but you have the power, sir, and you will speak to +him and tell him that he must take me?" cried Marcus. + +Julius shook his head. + +"Let me see," he said; "you told me that you would try to be brave." + +Marcus felt that his hopes were vain, but he spoke out desperately: + +"Yes, I would indeed try to be as brave and firm as I could." + +"I know you would, boy, but remember this: it is very brave to be +obedient to those who are in authority over you," said Julius. "A good +son obeys his father, and Cracis has given you his commands to stay +here, has he not?" + +"Yes," cried Marcus, desperately; "but I was sure that I could be of the +greatest help." + +"I believe that you would try to be," said Julius, gravely; "but, my +boy, I cannot fight for you in this and oppose your father's commands. +Be brave and do your duty here. Put up with the disappointment and +wait. Time flies fast, boy, and you will be a man sooner than you +expect--too soon perhaps for the golden days of youth. No, my boy, I +cannot interfere. You must obey your father's commands." + +"Oh," cried Marcus, passionately, "and suppose he is stricken down, to +lie helpless on the field?" + +Julius shrugged his shoulders, and at that moment the voice of Cracis +was heard summoning the boy, who turned away hanging his head in his +despair. Marcus turned to meet his father, who looked at him wondering +to see him there, and bringing the colour to the boy's cheeks, so guilty +did he feel, as, with his cloak over his arm, Cracis drew his son to him +to press him to his mailed breast, held out his hand to Serge, and then +strode forward with heavy tread to join his old military companion, who +was now slowly bending over the side of the fountain, into whose clear +surface he kept on lowering the white tips of his fingers so that one or +the other of the little fish that glided about within the depths might +dart at them and apply its lips in the belief that something was offered +to it fit for food. + +Caius Julius rose up slowly as he heard the heavy tramp of his friend's +armoured feet upon the paved floor, and took in his appearance with a +smile of satisfaction. + +"You are ready, then?" he said. + +"Yes," was the laconic reply. + +"Then nothing remains but for you to take your farewell of my brave +young friend, your defender when I ventured to try his faith." + +"That is done," said Cracis, gravely; "and as Rome awaits my coming, +lead the way." + +"But I have not said my valediction to your son, Cracis, and it is this: +Wait, Marcus, my brave boy. Some day perhaps I may come to you as I +have come to your father to ask your help. Better still, send him, full +of the honours he has won, to bring his son to Rome. Till then, +farewell." + +Marcus felt the touch of their visitor's hands and heard his words, but +he could not speak, only stand side by side with Serge, who looked older +and more bent than when he first learned the truth that he was to stay +behind; but the boy had no thought at the moment but of the father who +was going away to face peril as well as to strike for glory and his +country's welfare. + +He could only follow the pair of Rome's great men as, side by side, they +passed out of the open court where the fountain played and the water +that sparkled like diamonds in the bright sunshine fell back into the +basin with a musical splashing sound. + +A minute later and Cracis with his companion passed out through the +porched entry into the tree-shaded road, the grave, white-robed leader +and the well-armed general with his shield, which flashed and turned off +a shower of keen darts which came from on high, as he turned once to +wave his hand to his son. + +At that moment there was a low, deep bay, and the great wolf-dog, which +had caught sight of his master, bounded from the shadow where he had +crouched to avoid the flies, and, seeing the two strangers, as they +seemed to him, he leaped forward, but crouched at his master's feet as +he recognised his face and voice. + +"Good dog!" cried Cracis. "No, go back and guard all here till I +return." + +If the dog did not grasp the words, he did the tone and gesture, +replying by throwing up his muzzle and giving vent to a piteous howl +full of protest, as he turned and walked slowly back to join Marcus and +Serge, dropping at the former's feet just as the departing pair +disappeared at a turn of the road. + +Then there was a pause for a time, before the dog slunk off to his +kennel; Serge hung his head and moved away in silence towards the back +of the villa and the room that Marcus playfully called his den, while +the boy, feeling that all was over and hope dead and buried in his +breast, went slowly and sadly to his seat in the study, where his stylus +and waxen tablets lay, to slowly scratch upon the smooth surface the +words: + +"Gone. Left behind." + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN. + +GOOD-BYE, OLD HOME. + +There was a strange solemnity about the Roman villa as soon as Marcus +was left alone. All seemed to have grown painfully still. It was +fancy, no doubt, but, to the boy, the birds had ceased to sing and chirp +among the trees, the sounds from the farm were distant, and though more +than once Marcus listened intently he did not hear Serge go to or from +his room, nor his step anywhere about the road. + +"Poor old Serge," thought Marcus; "he is as miserable as I am--no, not +quite, because he does not feel so guilty nor ready to disobey. He +heard what my father said, bowed his head, and went away." + +And how slowly the time glided away. The hottest part of the afternoon +came, when, as a rule, the boy felt drowsy and ready to have a restful +sleep till the sun began to get low; but this day Marcus felt so alert +and excited that he never once thought of sleep, though he more than +once longed to see the sun go down so that it might be darkness such as +would agree with the misery and despair which kept him shut in his room +hating the very sight of day. + +Marcus took up his stylus to write a dozen times over, but he did not +add a word to those which he had written as soon as he was alone, and he +threw the pointed implement down each time with a feeling of disgust. + +"I feel as if I shall never write again," he said, bitterly. "Oh, it is +too hard to bear!" + +He buried his face in his hands, resting his elbows upon his knees, +feeling at times almost stunned by his misery, quite ignorant of the +lapse of time, and so wretched that he did not even wonder how far his +father and the great Roman general had got by this time upon their +journey to Rome. + +"Is it never going to be night?" groaned the boy at last, and then he +started violently, for something cold and moist touched one of his +hands. + +"You, Lupe?" he said, with a sigh, as he realised his disturber, and he +looked gently at the great dog, whose eyes were fixed enquiringly and +wistfully on his. "He's gone, old boy--gone--gone--gone--and, yes, the +place does seem lonely and sad." + +The dog whined softly, and then looked sharply in his face again, before +turning to the door, forcing it open and passing through. + +"Who'd ever have thought a dog would feel it so?" thought Marcus. "But +he does. He missed him directly, and he has gone to hunt for him. + +"What, can't you find him, Lupe?" cried Marcus, as there came a +scratching at the door, which was forced open, and the dog came in +again, to utter a piteous whimper which increased into a howl. + +"Poor old Lupe!" sighed Marcus. "Can't you find him, boy? No, and you +never will. I dare say he will never come back here again. Good old +dog!" he continued, taking hold of his ears and drawing the head into +his lap, to keep on caressing him and talking to him the while. "What +mistakes one makes! I used to think you such a surly, savage old +fellow, and here you are as miserable as I am, Lupe. Oh, he might have +let me go!" + +The dog whined softly as it gazed wistfully in his eyes, and whined +again. + +"Where's old Serge, Lupe? You haven't seen him since father went." + +The dog growled. + +"Oh, don't be cross with him, Lupe. I dare say he's as disappointed as +I am; but he will have to stay," continued the boy, bitterly, as he +uttered a mocking laugh, "and take care of the house and the servants +and all the things about the farm; and you will have to stay and help +him too. Just as if all these things were of any consequence at all. +There, get away; I can't make a fuss over you now. I feel half wild and +savage. I can't bear it, Lupe. It's too much--too much." + +He thrust the dog's head roughly away, and Lupe stood up before him and +shook himself violently so that his ears rattled. Then, trotting +towards the door, he was stopped short, for the latch was in its place +and he tried to drag it open with his claws, but tried for some moments +in vain. Then showing plenty of intelligence, he trotted back to the +middle of the room, looked up anxiously in his young master's face, and +barked angrily. + +"Oh, look here," cried Marcus, "I can't bear this. Be off!" + +The dog trotted back to the door and scratched at it with his head +turned towards the boy the while; but Marcus was too full of his own +troubles to grasp the great animal's meaning, and, finding that he was +not understood, Lupe trotted to Marcus' side, lifted one leg, and pawed +at him. + +"Get away, I tell you!" cried the boy, and the dog barked a little, and +stood barking in the middle of the room for a few moments, before +turning and making for the window, where he crouched a little, and then, +with one effort, sprang right out into the garden, while Marcus subsided +into his old attitude with his face buried in his hands. + +No one disturbed him, and at last the night began to fall, the shadows +in the room darkened and grew darker still, till at last the boy seemed +to wake out of a deep sleep, though he had never closed his eyes. + +Springing up, he went to the window, looked out at the dark and silent +garden, and then uttering a low, deep sigh he crossed to the door, +passed through, and made for his father's study, to find there that all +was darker still. But he knew what he wanted, and with outstretched +hands made for his father's bed, when they came in contact at once with +what he wanted. + +Then there arose from the place where his father rested night after +night a short, sharp, clinking noise as of metal against metal, while +the boy quickly and carefully gathered together the various portions of +his armour and accoutrements which had been placed there by old Serge +when he unpacked and sorted out the portions of the three suits. + +It did not take long to clear the bed, and then, hugging everything +tightly to him, Marcus crept softly out through the darkness, listening +carefully the while before every movement, his acts suggesting that he +was playing the part of a robber; and he thought so and laughed to +himself, as he said softly, as if answering his conscience, "Yes, but I +am only stealing my own," and then made his way to his own sleeping +chamber, a narrow little closet of a place which opened upon the court, +where the musical tinkling of the water as it fell back into the basin +could be plainly heard. + +In the darkness everything was wonderfully still, save that the music of +the water sometimes sounded loud, and when the boy rather roughly freed +himself from his burden that he carried by casting the armour and +weapons upon his own bed, he was half startled by the resulting crash, +and turned back quickly into the court to stand and listen. + +As he did this the low murmur of voices came to his ear, making him step +cautiously across the little square court and go round to the spot from +which the sounds came. + +There he stood listening for a few moments, to satisfy himself that it +was only his father's servants talking together, their subject being +their master's going away. + +"Oh," he said, impatiently, "they don't think about me, any more than +old Serge does. But he might have given me a thought and come and said +a word or two to show that he was sorry for my disappointment. + +"But no; he wouldn't," continued the boy, with a sigh. "I suppose +people in trouble are always selfish, and he thinks his trouble a bigger +one than mine. Never mind. I won't be selfish. I'll go and speak to +him, just a few kind words to let him see that I am sorry for him, and +then--Oh, it's very miserable work, and what a difference father could +have made if he would have listened to me--and that Julius too. + +"Caius Julius! Yes, of course, I have heard about him, but it never +troubled me--in fact I hardly knew there was such a man in the world-- +the greatest man in Rome, a mighty soldier and conqueror, old Serge said +more than once; but I never took any notice, for it seemed nothing to do +with me. Oh, who could have thought that in a few short hours there +could be such a change as this!" + +The boy turned off, crossed the court again, and made his way to Serge's +den, where all was still and dark as the part of the building he had +just quitted. + +"You here, Serge?" he cried, cheerily, thrusting open the door. "Where +are you? What have you been doing all this time?" + +Marcus' words sounded hollow and strange, coming back to him, as it +were, and startling him for the moment. + +"Are you asleep?" he shouted, loudly, as if to encourage himself, for an +uncomfortable feeling thrilled him through and through. + +"Oh, what nonsense!" he muttered. "Not likely that he would be asleep; +he'd have heard me directly and sprung up. Where can he be?" + +The boy thought for a few moments, and then hurried out towards the farm +buildings and sheds, but stopped short as another thought struck him, +and he made at once for the dark building with its stone cistern where +the grapes were trodden. + +The door was ajar, and he stepped in at once. + +"You here, Serge?" he cried; and this time there was an answer, but it +was made by the dog, which approached him fawningly and uttered a low, +whining, discontented howl. + +"Oh, get out! I don't want you," cried Marcus, angrily; and he turned +to leave the place, but his conscience smote him and he stooped down and +began patting the great beast's head. + +"Yes, I do," he said, gently. "Poor old Lupe! I mustn't be surly to my +friends. Good old dog, then! But where's Serge? Do you know where he +is, boy?" + +The dog growled, and pressed up against Marcus' leg. + +"No, you don't know, old fellow. If you did you'd be with him. There, +go and lie down. I daresay he's gone into the woods to sulk and walk it +off." + +The dog whined softly, and then, in obedience to his master's commands, +let himself subside upon the stones, while Marcus strolled off, stopped +once or twice to think and listen, and then said, half aloud: + +"There, it's of no use, and perhaps it's all for the best, for I'm so +weak and stupid, and I daresay I shouldn't have been able to talk to him +and say what I meant without breaking down." + +He drew himself up firmly, then stood breathing hard for a few moments, +as he turned and gazed through the darkness in different directions, and +then made straight for his little cubicle, entered at once, and, +breathing hard the while as if he had been running far, he cast off his +loose every-day garment and began rapidly to put on the armour in which +he had had such pride. + +Practice with old Serge had made him perfect, and, in spite of the +darkness, his fingers obeyed him well, so that it was not long before he +stood girded and buckled up, fully accoutred, with nothing more to be +done than to crown his preparations by placing his heavy helmet upon his +head. + +Before he began, his spirits were down to the lowest ebb, but exertion +and excitement, joined with something in the touch of the war-like garb +and the thoughts this last engendered, so that as he went on he +gradually grew brighter, adventurous thoughts encouraged him; and, at +last, taking the helmet in both hands, he placed it upon his head, drew +the armed strap beneath his chin, and readjusted the hang of his short +broadsword, before standing in the darkness absolutely motionless. + +"Why, it makes me feel ten years older," he said, "even if I am but a +boy! And here was I, before I began, shrinking and feeling that I +should repent and be afraid to go. And now I am like this!" + +He lifted his shield from where it lay upon the bed, took the short +spear which he had leaned in a corner of the wall, and then, stiffened +by his armour and far more by the spirit that seemed to thrill through +every nerve and tendon, he stepped out into the court, to bend down and +place his lips to the clear water in the fountain basin, drink deeply, +and then stand up in the darkness to look round. + +"Good-bye, old home!" he said, aloud, and his voice broke a little; but +it hardened again the next moment, as he said, quickly: + +"No, it isn't home now that he has gone away. I am coming, father, and +you must forgive me when we meet, for I cannot--I dare not stay." + +There was the quick, sharp tramp of the boy's feet as he crossed the +stone-paved court, with the arms he wore, and those he carried, making a +slight crackling and clinking noise, while his bronze protected feet +made his steps sound heavier than of old. + +The next minute he was fighting against the desire to turn and look +back, and, conquering, for he felt that it would be weak, he strode off +with quickened pace away along the track that had been taken by his +father and Caius Julius hours before. + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE. + +REAL WAR. + +It was all one blur of mystery to Marcus as he tramped through the +forest, following the slightly beaten road. Time seemed to be no more, +and distance not to count. Everything was dreamy and strange, +over-ruled by the one great thought that he was going to reach his +father somewhere, somehow, in the future, when he would reprove him +bitterly and forgive him, but he would never turn him back; and, +governed by these thoughts, he went on, almost unconscious of everything +else. + +The way was sometimes desolate, sometimes grand, with mountain and +forest, over which and through which the roughly beaten track always +led, for it was not one of the carefully constructed military roads that +his great people afterwards formed through the length and breadth of +their land. + +The rocks amongst the mountains afforded resting places; beneath the +grand trees of the forest there was mossy carpet, upon which he slept; +there were trickling rills and natural basins where crystal water gave +him drink, or places where he could bathe his hot and tired feet, while +now and again he came upon the rude hut of some goat-herd or Pagan who, +for a small coin, gladly supplied him with coarse black bread and a bowl +of freshly-drawn goat's milk. + +And this went on, as he could recall when he thought, day after day, +night after night, if he tried to think; but that was rarely, for he had +no time. The one great thought of finding his father mastered all else, +as, still in what continued a strange, blurred, adventurous dream, he +went on and on, seeming to grow more vigorous and stronger every hour, +feeling too, at heart, that he was on the right way, with Rome in the +distance, the goal for which he was bound; and once there--ah! + +All was blank and confused again, but it was a confusion full of +excitement, where flashes of greatness played up on the great city of +which he had heard so much, and his father and the army were there. + +There was nothing to hinder his progress, for the weather was glorious, +and, each morning when he awakened from his sleep, it was with his heart +throbbing with joy and desire as he sprang up refreshed and eager with +nothing to stay his way, till, on the morning of the third--the fourth-- +the fifth--he could not tell what day--all he knew was that it was +during his journey--he came suddenly in a dense part of a forest, upon a +big, armed figure marching before him far down the track, evidently +going the same way as he, turning neither to the right nor left, but +striding steadily on, and Marcus suffered a new emotion near akin to +fear and dread, not of this armed man, but of what he might do. For the +boy reasoned that, if he overtook this man, he might question him, find +out who he was, and turn him back. + +Marcus stopped short, after stepping aside to shelter himself partly +behind a tree-trunk, to watch the soldier, whose helmet glistened in the +sun-rays which played through the leaves, while the head of his spear +flashed at times as if it were a blade of fire. + +It was not fear alone that troubled the boy, for the sight of this +warrior, who was evidently on the march to join the army, sent a thrill +through his breast, and the war-like ardour of old fostered by old +Serge, came back stronger than ever, as he said to himself that there +was nothing to mind, for they were both, this big, grand-looking warrior +and he, upon the same mission. + +"He'll make me welcome," thought Marcus, "and we can march on together +and talk about the wars, the same as Serge and I used to before father +found us out. + +"I wonder whether this man knew my father? He'll be sure to know Caius +Julius, and I can talk about him and his coming to my home." + +But Marcus did not hurry on, for the dread came, and with it the horror +of being ignominiously forced to retrace his steps, while the Roman +warrior seemed to increase and grow large, till he disappeared among the +trees, came into sight again farther on, and, after a time, as Marcus +still hesitated, he finally passed out of sight, making the boy breathe +more freely. + +"What a coward I am!" he cried, aloud. "It's because I'm doing wrong in +leaving home as I did after receiving my father's commands. But I +couldn't help it. Something forced me to come away, and it was only +because I felt that I ought to be at father's side. + +"Perhaps it wasn't cowardice," he muttered, after a pause. "It may have +been prudence--the desire to make sure of reaching the army without +being turned back. And I'm such a boy that this great warrior would +have laughed at me and perhaps have looked at me mockingly as he felt my +arms. I've done quite right, and I'll keep to myself and join nobody +till I get to the army, where I shall be safe." + +After a time Marcus started off again, keeping a sharp look-out along +the road as he proceeded, till, some time later, he saw afar off a flash +of light, then another, which proved that the first had come from the +marching warrior's helmet, and once more Marcus slackened his pace. + +He saw no more of the man that day, but, as the evening was closing in, +upon the slope of a wooded mountain the boy caught sight of a +goat-herd's hut, where he obtained bread and milk, and the peasant who +lived there asked him if he was a companion of the big warrior who had +been there a short time before. + +Marcus shook his head, and soon after continued his journey, keeping a +stricter watch than ever, but seeing no more of the man. But he turned +aside into the forest as soon as he found a suitable place offering +shelter and a soft, dry couch, and was soon after plunged in a restful +sleep which lasted till the grey dawn, when he suddenly started into +wakefulness, disturbed, as he was, by the rattling of armour. + +Marcus shrank back among the undergrowth which had been his shelter, +waking fully to the fact that he had lain down to sleep not above a +dozen yards from where the man had made his couch, while, in all +probability, had he continued his journey for those few paces the night +before, he would have stumbled upon him he sought to avoid. + +There was nothing for it but to wait for a while so as to give his +fellow-traveller time to get some distance ahead, and, when he thought +that he might start, Marcus went on again slowly, with the result that, +during that day, he caught sight of the man twice over steadily plodding +on, but never once looking back or hesitating as to his path. + +When night closed in again, the country had become far more hilly, and, +as Marcus was descending a steep slope at the bottom of which a stream +gurgled and rippled along, the boy awoke to the fact that the man had +been resting and bathing in the bottom of the tiny valley, and was now +ascending the opposite slope, where, in full sight of his +fellow-traveller, he stopped beneath a tree, divested himself of a +portion of his armour, and then lay down to rest. + +To have gone on and passed him would have been the most sensible thing +to do, but to do this the boy would have had to creep along a rugged +path close beside the sleeper's halting place, at the great risk of +dislodging stones and awakening him if he were asleep, while, if he were +yet awake, to pass without being seen was impossible. + +It was not the spot where Marcus would have chosen his resting place, +but there was no option, and, carefully keeping among the trees, he +dropped down at the most suitable place, and then lay for some time +vainly trying to sleep, till at last he lost consciousness, resting and +preparing for his next day's journey, waking at sunrise in the hope that +if he could not lose sight of his unwelcome fellow-traveller, the next +night would find him so near to Rome that another day's march would, at +least, bring him so close that there would be no more such anxious +travel. + +But matters turn out in daily life very often in a different way from +what is expected, and so it was here. Marcus waited and watched till he +saw the warrior rise bare-headed, but not to go on at once after donning +his helmet, but to come back in his direction. + +"He must have seen me," thought the boy excitedly, and he began to creep +carefully away through the low bushes; but, at the end of a minute, upon +glancing back, he found that the man was not following him, but had made +his way down to the little stream to drink and wash. + +Relieved by this, Marcus reseated himself to watch unseen every action +of the soldier, who had left his helmet, shield and weapons at the foot +of the tree where he had slept; and, after bathing his face and hands, +he was on his way back, when, to Marcus' horror, he caught sight of a +glint of something bright, and, directly after, made out first one and +then another rough-looking, armed man, till he saw there were no less +than six creeping towards the spot where the Roman soldier had left his +weapons. + +Marcus thought no more of himself at this, but was about to issue from +his hiding place when he grasped the fact that the soldier had realised +his danger, and, springing forward with a shout, he made a dash to reach +his resting place first. + +The strange men were evidently shaken by his bold action, but only for a +few moments, and turned to meet the soldier, knife in hand; but their +hesitation gave the warrior time to reach shield and sword, when, +without waiting to be attacked, the men advanced upon him at once. + +Such an encounter as this was quite new to Marcus, and he stood there +hidden from all concerned for quite a minute, with his heart beating +rapidly, trembling with excitement, and taking the position of a +spectator, gazing with starting eyes at the party of strangers as if the +fight were no concern of his. + +Strangers? Yes, they were all strangers--enemies perhaps; and then, +like a flash, it struck him that these rough-looking, knife-armed men +were robbers intent upon spoiling the warrior and perhaps taking his +life. + +This flash of intelligence opened the way for another, making him see +the cowardice of six attacking one while that one was brave as brave +could be. + +For a few moments, as he watched the encounter in the bright morning +light, Marcus was full of admiration for the brave and clever way in +which, hemmed in though he was, the big warrior interposed his shield +and turned off blow after blow. But all the same it was very evident +that numbers would gain the day and some desperate thrust lay the poor +fellow low. + +Marcus' thoughts passed very quickly in his excitement, and now another +came like a question: You are in armour, with a good shield, a sharp +sword and spear. You have taken upon yourself the part of a Roman +soldier, and you stand there doing nothing but look on. + +That thought seemed to smite Marcus right in the face, and the next +moment he was running hard, spear in hand, down the steep hill slope, to +leap the rivulet and, with lowered spear, charge up the other side +towards the contending party, a loud shout ringing out upon the morning +air. + +So fully were the attacking party taken up by their work of escaping the +single swordsman's blows and trying to get in a thrust, that they paid +no heed to the shout of the boy, and were not even conscious of his +presence till he was close at hand. + +But his approach was noted by the brave soldier, just as an attack from +behind was delivered simultaneously with one in front, and it gave him +strength to make a last effort which enabled him to lay one of his +assailants low; but at the same moment another enemy sprang upon his +back, and he went down, his foes hurling themselves upon him with a +shout of triumph, which turned into a yell of dismay as the boy +literally leaped amongst them as if to join in the mastery over the +fallen man. + +But though Marcus sprang quickly into their midst, his spear moved far +more quickly than his feet, and he darted in to right and left two of +the thrusts that he had learned from Serge in one of his mock combats at +home when his spear had been only a short, light pole, cut and trimmed +by the old soldier for the purpose in hand. + +All that was sham, but this was startlingly real to the boy, as, at each +thrust, he saw blood start, and heard the yells of pain given by the +receivers of the point. + +Those cries were auxiliaries, for they pierced the ears of those who +attacked, making them turn in their surprise to find amongst them a +fully-armed warrior whose arms flashed in the morning sun, as, advancing +his shield ready for a blow, he darted his spear forward at another, who +avoided the thrust by a backward leap, and, once started, dashed away as +hard as they could go. Fighting men are prone to follow their leader, +sometimes to victory, sometimes in panic flight. This latter was the +case here. Marcus' next thrust, delivered with all his might, coming +too late, for it was at a flying foe, three men running swiftly, one +limping away, another running more slowly, nursing his right arm, and +the sixth, who had been struck down by the Roman soldier's sword, +crawling along towards the rivulet, by which he stopped to bathe his +wound. + +It was a matter of very few moments, and Marcus had hardly realised the +fact that his daring surprise had completely turned the tables, for his +first thought was, "They couldn't have seen what a boy I am," when his +next led him to turn back to see how the beaten-down soldier had fared, +just in time to meet him face to face, as, half stunned, he struggled to +his knees and pressing his sword upon one of the stones hard by, used it +as a staff to enable him to gain his feet. + +The next moment he was afoot, passing his sword into his shield-bearing +hand so that he might raise his big helmet, which, in the struggle, had +been driven down over his eyes. Then it was that he stared at his +deliverer, and his deliverer stared at him. + +"Thank you, whoever you are--" began the soldier, and then his jaw +dropped and he was silent. Not so Marcus, whose countenance lit up with +delight, as he shouted: + +"Why, Serge! Can this be you?" + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN. + +TURNING THE TABLES. + +"Marcus, boy!" came back the next instant, as the old soldier dashed +down his shield and his sword upon it with a clattering noise, before +catching his deliverer in his arms and holding him to his breast. + +"Well done!" he cried. "Well done, boy! Well done! Hah! Hurrah! +Think of it! Six on 'em! And you set 'em running. Hah!" he panted, +breathlessly, as he freed the boy, took a couple of steps backward, +planted his great fists upon his hips, gazed at him proudly, and then +gave a sweeping look round as if addressing a circle of lookers-on +instead of blocks of stone and trees; "Hah!" he exclaimed. "I taught +him to fight like that!" + +"Yes, Serge, you did--you did!" cried Marcus. "But you are covered with +blood, and you are badly hurt. Those wretches must have stabbed you +with their knives." + +"Eh?" growled the old soldier, beginning to feel himself all over. +"Yes, how nasty! All over my breast. It's a long time since I have +been in a mess like this. I felt a dig in the front, and another in my +back, and another--" Serge ceased speaking as his hands were busy +feeling for his wounds, and then he exclaimed: "Yes, it's blood, sure +enough, but 'tain't mine, boy. Their knives didn't go through. I am +all right, only out of breath. But you? Did you get touched?" + +"Oh no," cried Marcus. "I escaped." + +"But you made your marks on them, boy. My marks, I call 'em." + +"Pick up your sword and shield, Serge," cried Marcus, excitedly. +"They'll be coming back directly perhaps." + +"Well, yes, it would be wise, boy," said the old soldier, taking his +advice. "Look yonder; that's the fellow I cut down," and he pointed +with his sword to the man who had been bathing his wound and, after +crossing the rivulet, was also in full retreat. "No, he's had enough of +it, and if the others came back it wouldn't be six to one, but five to +two--two well-armed warriors, you and me," said the old man, proudly, as +he made Marcus' shield clatter loudly as he tapped it with his sword. +"You and me, boy," he repeated. "Tchah! They won't come on again. +Why, back to back, you and me--why, we are ready for a dozen of them if +they came. Here, I had my wash, but I must go now and have another +while you keep guard over me. Think of it!--While you keep guard over +me, boy! No, I won't call you boy no more, for I have made you a +fighting man, and here's been the proof of it this morning. There's +only one thing wanted to make all this complete. Boy! Tchah! I can't +call you a boy: you are a young Roman warrior." + +"Oh, nonsense, Serge!" cried the boy, flushing. + +"Nonsense, eh? Look at you and the way you handled that spear. Why, +you are better with your sword, if you have to draw it, as I well know. +Do you remember how you nearly did for me?" + +"Oh yes, I remember," replied Marcus. + +"Yes, I had to jump that time; and lucky I did, or I shouldn't have been +here for you to fight like this. But, as I was saying, it only wanted +one thing, and that was for your father, who has come to his senses at +last, to have been here to see, and--" + +The old soldier stopped short, his big, massive jaw dropped, and he +stood staring as he took off his heavy helmet and wiped his brow with +the back of his hand. + +"But I say," he cried, at last, staring at the boy with the puzzled +expression upon his features growing more and more intense, "what are +you doing here?" + +Marcus' sun-browned face turned scarlet, and he stood silent, staring in +reply, beginning almost to cower--he, the brave, young, growing +warrior--before the old servant's stern eyes, and ready to shiver at the +pricking of the conscience that was now hard at work. + +"Look here," cried Serge, extending his shield and raising his short +broadsword to punctuate his words with the taps he gave upon this armour +of defence, "your father said that you were not to use that armour any +more, and I left it, being busy getting his for him to go off to the +war, lying upon his bed. It wasn't yours any longer. It was his'n. +You have been in and stole it; that's what you have done. Do you hear +me?" continued the old soldier, fiercely. "You've been and stole it and +put it on, when he said you warn't to. That's what you've done." + +"Yes, Serge," said the boy, meekly. + +"Hah!" cried the old soldier, gathering strength. + +"And your father said you were to stop at home and take care of his +house and servants, and the swine and cattle, and his lands, and, as +soon as he's gone, you begin kicking up your heels and playing your +wicked young pranks. That's what you've done, and been pretty quick +about it too. Now then, out with it. Let's have the truth--the truth, +and no excuses. Let's have the truth." + +It was no longer punctuation, but a series of heavy musical bangs upon +the shield, and once more, very meekly indeed, Marcus said, almost +beneath his breath: + +"Yes, Serge; that's quite right. Everything is as you say." + +"Ah, well," growled the old soldier, a little mollified by his young +master's frankness, "that don't make it quite so bad. Now then, just +you answer right out. Where were you a-going to go?" + +"To join father at the war." + +"Hah! I thought as much," cried the old soldier, triumphantly, and +looking as though he credited himself with a grand discovery. "And now +you see what comes of not doing what you are told. I've just catched +you on the hop, and it's lucky for you it's me and not the master +himself. So, now then, it's clear enough what I've got to do." + +"To do?" cried Marcus, quickly. "What do you mean, Serge?" + +"What do I mean? Why, to make you take off that coat of armour on the +spot. Well, no, I can't do that, because you aren't got nothing else to +wear. Well, never mind; you must go as you are." + +"Oh yes, Serge, never mind about the armour; I'll go as I am. But +gather your things together--that bundle of yours." + +"How did you know I'd got a bundle?" said the old soldier, suspiciously. + +"I have seen you carrying it day after day." + +"What! You've seen me day after day?" + +"Oh yes. I don't know how long it's been, but I have often seen you +right in front." + +"Worse and worse!" cried the old soldier, angrily. "That shows what a +bad heart you've got, boy. You've come sneaking along after me to find +the way, and never dared to show your face." + +"I did dare!" cried the boy, indignantly. "But I only saw your back. I +didn't know it was you." + +"Oh, you didn't know it was me?" growled Serge. "Well, that don't make +it quite so bad. But you knew it was me that you came to help?" + +"No." + +"Oh! Then I might have been a stranger?" + +"Yes, of course. I saw six men attacking one, and--" + +"Oh, come, he ain't got such a bad heart as I thought," said the old +soldier. "And you did behave very well. I did feel a bit proud of you. +But never mind that; we have got something else to talk about," said +Serge, as he rearranged his armour and picked up his wallet and spear. +"Now then, let's get back at once, and mind this, if you attempt to give +me the slip--" + +"Give you the slip! Get back!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "What do you +mean by get back at once?" + +"Why, get back home to your books and that there wax scratcher to do as +your father said. This is a pretty game, upon my word!" + +"But I am not going back, Serge," cried the boy, firmly. "I am going to +join my father." + +"You are not going to join your father," said the old soldier, sturdily. +"You've run away like one of them village ragged-jacks, and I am +ashamed of you, that's what I am. But 'shamed or no 'shamed, I've +catched you and I am going to take you back." + +"No!" cried Marcus, fiercely. + +"Nay, boy, it's yes, so make no more bones about it." + +"I am going to join my father, sir, and answer to him, not to his +servant." + +"You are going back home to your books and to take care of your father's +house." + +"And suppose I refuse?" cried Marcus. + +"Won't make a bit of difference, boy, for I shall make you." + +"Indeed!" cried Marcus. + +"Now then, none of that! None of your ruffling up like a young cockerel +and sticking your hackles out because you think your spurs have grown, +when you are not much more than fledged, because that won't do with me. +I tell you this: you come easy and it will be all the better for you, +for if you behave well perhaps I won't tell the master, after all. So +make up your mind to be a good boy at once." + +"A good boy!" cried Marcus, scornfully. "Why, you called me a brave +young warrior just now." + +"Yes, I am rather an old fool sometimes," growled Serge; "but you +needn't pitch that in my teeth. Now then, no more words, and let's +waste no more time. I want to get back." + +"But Serge--" cried the boy. + +"That'll do. You know what your father said, and you've got to obey +him, or I shall make you. Aren't you sorry for doing wrong?" + +"Yes--no," cried Marcus. + +"Yes--no? What do you mean by that, sir?" + +"I don't know," cried Marcus, desperately. "Look here, Serge: it is too +late now. I've taken this step, and I must go on and join my father +now." + +"Taken this step? Yes, of course you have," cried the old soldier, +sarcastically, "and a nice step it is! What's it led to? Your having +to take a lot more steps back again. I know; but you didn't, being such +a young callow bit of a fellow. Soon as you do anything wrong you have +to do a lot more bad things to cover it up. Lucky for you I catched +you; so now then, come on." + +"But Serge," cried Marcus, passionately, "you can't understand how I +felt--how it seemed as if I must go after my father, to be with him in +case he wanted help. He might be wounded, you know." + +"Well, if he is there'll be plenty to help him. Soldiers are always +comrades, and help one another. If he is wounded he won't want a boy +like you, so stop all that. I'm not going to stand here and let you +argue me into a rage. You've got to come back and obey your father's +commands, instead of breaking his orders. I wonder at you, boy, that I +do. Did this come out of your reading and writing?" + +"Serge!" cried the boy. "I did try hard--so hard, you don't know; but I +couldn't stay. I was obliged to come." + +"Won't do, boy," growled the old soldier, frowning. "Orders are orders, +and one has to obey them whether one likes 'em or whether one don't. +Ready?" + +"No, Serge, no, I'm not ready," pleaded the boy. "It is too late. I +can't go back." + +"Too late? Not a bit. Now then: come on." + +"I cannot, Serge. I must--I will go on now." + +"You mustn't, sir, and you will not," cried the old soldier, sternly. +"Now then, no nonsense; come on." + +"No, no, Serge. Pray, pray take my side. It is to be with my father; +can't you see?" + +"No, boy; I'm blind when it comes to orders." + +"Oh, Serge, have you no mercy?" cried Marcus, piteously. + +"Not a bit, boy. Now then, once more, come on." + +"I cannot," cried Marcus, passionately. + +"Then I'm going to make you." + +"What!" + +"I'm going to carry you, heavy as you'll be, and long as it will make +the road. But I've got it to do, and, if it takes me a month, I'm going +to make you obey your father's orders, sir, and stop at home." + +As he spoke Serge swung his shield between his shoulders, pressed his +sheathed sword a little more round to his side, and with a sharp dig +made his spear stand up in the earth. + +"Now then," he cried, and he caught Marcus by the wrists, and a struggle +seemed to be imminent. + +"Serge!" cried Marcus, angrily. + +"Your orders were to stay at home, sir, and home you go," cried the old +soldier. "If you will be carried back like a scrap of a little child, +why, carried you shall be. So give up. I'm twice as strong as you, and +it's your father's commands." + +"Hah!" cried Marcus, ceasing his struggles on the instant, and leaving +his wrists tightly clasped in the old soldier's hands. + +"Well, what are you `hah-ing' about?" cried Serge, as he noted the +suddenly triumphant tones of the boy's voice. + +"I was thinking about my father's orders," cried Marcus, in a state of +wild excitement now. + +"Good boy; and quite time. Pity you didn't think more of 'em and much +sooner. Then you're going to mind me without more fuss, and come home +like a good boy now?" + +"No," cried Marcus, fiercely. "I am going on to my father. I will not +stir a step backward now." + +"What!" cried Serge, as fiercely now, for the old man was roused by the +boy's obstinacy. "You won't obey?" + +"No," cried Marcus, catching his companion by the top of his breast +armour. "It's my turn now. Look here, sir; you talk about my father's +commands." + +"Yes, boy, I do," roared the old soldier, looking as fierce now as one +of the campagna bulls, whose bellow he seemed to emulate, "and I'll make +you obey them too." + +"Commands--obey--when I'm only going to join him?" + +"Yes, that's it, my lad. So now then!" + +"Yes," cried Marcus, giving his companion a fierce thrust which forced +him a little back so that he caught his heels against a projecting +stone, and as he tried to recover himself was brought down by Marcus +upon his knees. "Hah!" he cried. "I've got you! What have you got to +say about my father's orders? What are you doing here?" + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN. + +COMING TO TERMS. + +Serge was in the act of gathering himself together so as to spring up +and catch his prisoner by the arms, but, as the boy questioned him +sharply he sank a little lower upon his knees, and, as if all the +strength had been suddenly discharged from within him, he said in quite +a different tone of voice: + +"What am I doing here?" + +"Yes, sir," cried Marcus, forcing him a little more back, and fixing him +with his eyes, "what are _you_ doing here?" + +"Well, I--er--I--I'm here to take you back." + +"You old shuffler!" cried Marcus, in a rage. "I can see through you. +My father's orders, indeed! What were his orders to _you_, sir? +Weren't they to stop and take care of his house and belongings, and of +me?" + +"Well, they was something like that," growled the man, softly; "but +don't drive your knuckles into my throat like that, my lad. You hurt." + +"Hurt! Yes, and you deserve it," cried Marcus, growing stronger in his +attack upon the old servant as the latter grew more confused and weak. +"So this is the way you obey my father's commands. You took upon +yourself to go into his room and help yourself to the armour you have +on. Confess, you did; didn't you?" + +"Well, if it comes to that, Master Marcus," grumbled the man, "it was my +armour, and wouldn't fit no one else." + +"That's shuffling again, Serge, and it's no good. You took the armour, +unknown to my father?" + +"Course I did, my lad," cried the man, recovering himself a little. "He +wasn't there, was he?" + +"Pah!" ejaculated Marcus. "More shuffling. Now then, confess: you took +the armour and disobeyed the orders given you. What is more, you +forsook me and left me to myself. Speak out; you did, didn't you?" + +"Well, I s'pose it's o' no use to deny it, Master Marcus. I s'pose I +did." + +"And in direct opposition to my father's orders you were going to follow +him to the war?" + +"That's right, Master Marcus, but how could I help it? Could I let him, +as I'd followed into many a fight, go off to meet those savage Gauls +without me at his back to stand by him as I've done many and many a time +before?" + +"You disobeyed him, sir," cried Marcus. + +"Well, boy, I own up," growled the man; "but I meant to do it for the +best. How could I stop at home nussing you like a baby and thinking all +the while that my old master was going about with swords and spears +offering at his throat? How could I do it, Master Marcus? Don't be so +hard on a man. It wasn't to be done." + +"And yet you were as hard as iron to me, sir," cried Marcus. + +"Well, didn't your father order me to be in the way of taking care of +you? It was my duty." + +"Was it?" cried Marcus. "Then now I'm going to do my duty to you, sir." + +"What are you going to do, Master Marcus?" said Serge, quite humbled +now. + +"Make you go back to the old home and take care of it." + +"Master never gave you orders to do that," cried the old soldier, +triumphantly; "and now I'm started to follow him and fight for him, +nobody shan't make me go; so there!" + +Marcus and Serge remained gazing in one another's eyes, till at last the +latter spoke. + +"Look here, Master Marcus, I meant it for the best. Aren't you being a +bit hard on me?" + +"Look here, Serge," replied Marcus, "I meant it for the best. Weren't +you a bit hard upon me?" + +"I think not, Master Marcus, boy." + +"And that's what I think, Serge." + +"I couldn't see my dear old master go away alone into danger." + +"And I couldn't see my dear old father go away alone into danger." + +"Of course you couldn't, Master Marcus. I say, my lad, you know what I +used to tell you about enemies doing when they come to a check like-- +what they settled was best." + +"What, made a truce?" said Marcus. + +"Yes, my lad. I should like one now, for that bruise you've made with +your knuckles in my throat's quite big enough. It'll be black +to-morrow." + +"Get up, Serge," said Marcus, letting his hand fall. + +"Thankye, my lad. I say, boy, I didn't think you were so strong." + +"Didn't you, Serge?" + +"No, boy. My word, it's just as if getting into your armour had +stiffened you all over. My word, I wouldn't ha' believed that you could +fight like you did this morning!" + +"I felt hot and excited, Serge, and as if I could do anything." + +"Didn't feel a bit scared like, though there was six of them?" + +"No," said Marcus, thoughtfully; "I never thought anything about their +numbers, only of saving you." + +"Thinking all the time it was someone else, sir?" + +"Yes, Serge; that was it." + +"And you fought fine, sir. Seems to me it's a pity for a youngster like +you to be stopping at home unrolling volumes and making scratches with a +stylus." + +"Does it, Serge?" + +"Yes, sir, it do; and likewise it seems a pity that such a man as me, +who can do his share of fighting, should be doing nothing better than +driving the swine into the acorn woods." + +"And looking after and protecting me, Serge," said Marcus, drily. + +"Oh, yes, of course; there was that, of course, Master Marcus; but I +say, sir, don't you think we've both talked enough for the present; I +tackled you and you tackled me in a pretty tidy argument, and both on us +had the best of it in turn. I'm beginning to think that there's good +clear water coming down from the mountain yonder." + +"Yes, Serge; it makes me feel thirsty after getting so hot." + +"Then, too, I've got a nice loaf in my wallet and a tidy bit o' meat as +I got from a little way back. What do you say to our making a bit o' +breakfast together same as we've done before now in the woods?" + +"And settle afterwards about whether we should go back, Serge?" said +Marcus. + +"Yes, my lad; that'll be the sensiblest thing to do." + +"Yes," said Marcus, "you've talked about it, and it has made me feel +very hungry now." + +"Well, look here," said Serge, "we are about even, aren't we?" + +"Even!" said Marcus, staring at the man. "Do you mean about both being +hungry?" + +"Nay-y-y-ay! About being wicked uns. You've done wrong, you know, and +disobeyed orders." + +"Yes," said Marcus, with a sigh. + +"So have I. Well, we are both in disgrace, and that makes us even; so, +of course, I can't bully you any more and you can't say ugly things to +me. Fair play's the thing, isn't it?" + +"Of course," cried Marcus. + +"Well, then, as you've behaved uncommon fine in tackling those rough +ones, and saved my life--" + +"Oh no," said Marcus, modestly. + +"But I say, oh yes. Don't you talk to me. They'd have killed me dead, +stripped off everything that was worth taking, and then left my body to +the wolves." + +Marcus recalled the words of the speaker of his wandering away up the +mountains to lie down and die, and he felt ready to say: "Well, that +would have suited you;" but he thought it better not, and held his +tongue. + +"As I said before, you have behaved uncommonly well over that, so I'll +forgive you for running away, and shake hands, if you'll agree to say +nothing more about it to me." + +"Oh, very well," cried Marcus. "I don't feel that I can say any more to +you." + +"Then I won't to you, my lad, and there's my hand on it. Only mind +this," cried Serge, as they stood with their hands clasped, "this is +only me, you know. I lose my place of looking after you, according to +the master's orders, by forsaking my post and going after him, so I +aren't no longer holding your rein, as you may say. What I mean is +this--I forgive you, but I am not going to answer for what your father +will say." + +"Oh, of course not," cried Marcus. "We have both got to face that." + +"Yes, my lad," said the old soldier, sourly, "and a nice hard time it's +going to be. I daren't think about it, but keep on putting it off till +it comes. That'll be time enough. So now then, you and me's going to +be friends, and try to help one another out of the mud. That is, unless +you think we'd better go back home together." + +"Oh, no, no," cried Marcus. "Impossible! We must go on now." + +"Yes," said Serge, bluntly. "Then it's vittles." + +"Vittles?" said Marcus, staring. + +"Yes. Don't you know what vittles are? Didn't you say you was hungry?" + +"Oh!" cried Marcus. + +"Have you got anything?" + +"Scarcely anything," replied Marcus. + +"Yah! And after all the pains I took with you! Didn't I always say +that an army on the march must always look well after its foraging? No +commander can expect his men to behave better than a bottle." + +"Look here, Serge," cried Marcus, laughing, "why don't you speak out +plainly what you mean? What have men got to do with bottles?" + +"Oh, a good deal sometimes," said the man, chuckling. "But that's only +my way. You can't hold a bottle up, no matter whether it's a goat-skin +or one of them big jars made of clay, and expect to pour something out +of it if you haven't first put something in?" + +"No, of course not," said Marcus, who was busy polishing the point of +his spear with a tuft of dried grass. + +"Well, men's the same as bottles; if you don't give them plenty to eat +and drink you can't get plenty of fighting out of them. Always see to +your foraging when you are on the march. I always do, and I have got +something ready for us both now. But look here, my lad, this isn't at +home, and I'm not going to drive out the swine, and you are not going to +your wax table. We are soldiering now, and whether it's two thousand or +only two, things are just the same. We have got to keep a sharp +look-out for the enemy." + +"You didn't," said Marcus, quickly, "or you would have seen me following +you." + +"That's right," said Serge, "and it was because I could think of nothing +else but about being such a bad un as I was and forsaking my post. I +dursen't look back either, for fear that I should see someone following +me. But that's all over now; you and me's joined forces, and we must go +on straight. I don't think it's necessary, but we will just take a look +round for danger before we sit down to enjoy our breakfast." + +"Enjoy?" said Marcus, dubiously. + +"Yes, that's right. We shall both have company over it. It's been +precious dull to me, being all alone. So now then; take the lead, +captain, and give the orders to advance for a scout all round before we +sit down to our meal." + +"Very well, then," cried Marcus. "Forward! This way first." + +"Yes, but that's too much of it," said the old soldier. "A commanding +officer don't make speeches to his men 'cept when he's going into +action, and not always then. What you ought to have said was just +`forward!' and then advanced with your troops to follow you." + +Marcus nodded and smiled, and, side by side and spear in hand, they +climbed to the highest ground, carefully surveying their surroundings of +wood and rock--every place, in fact, likely to give harbour to an enemy, +till all at once Marcus threw out his left arm across his companion's +breast, and, stopping short, stood pointing with his spear to something +half hidden behind a patch of bushes upon the other side of the stream. + +Serge sheltered his eyes on the instant, and gave a satisfied nod. + +"Right, captain," he whispered; "but your force isn't strong enough to +surround the enemy. You must advance in line. It's an ambuscade." + +The half-concealed figure was nearly a hundred yards away, and, by the +time they had covered half the distance, Marcus' keen young eyes sent a +message to his brain, and he whispered to his companion in an +awe-stricken voice: + +"It's that wounded man. He has lain down to die." + +The old soldier uttered a low grunt, and sheltered his eyes again. + +"Looks like it," he said, "but we had best make sure. Tell your men to +level their spears and advance at a run. Dead men are dangerous +sometimes." + +Recalling the lesson he had just received, Marcus lowered his spear and +uttered the one word: + +"Advance!" + +They broke into a sharp trot, straight for the horrible-looking, +stiffened figure which lay crouched together in an unnatural attitude +just behind a bush; but, before they were half way, there was a quick +movement, a sharp rustling of leaves, and the dead man had sprung up and +was running as swiftly as a deer. + +Marcus stared in astonishment, looking so surprised that Serge lowered +the butt of his spear and rested upon its shaft in his familiar home +attitude when the staff he carried was terminated by a crook instead of +a keenly-pointed blade. + +"There, you see, my lad. That's the sort of dead man you have got to +beware of after a fight. They are a very dangerous sort; like that +fellow, they are crippled a bit, but they won't stop to be buried. They +don't like the idea. What they do is to play sham till their enemy has +marched by 'em, thinking they are real, and then when some poor fellow +is looking forward, one of them dead barbarians lets him have it in the +back. There, we will go and sit up on the top there, and I'll lean up +against your back, and you shall lean up against mine while we eat our +breakfast and are busy with our teeth, and leave our four eyes to play +watchful sentry till we've done." + +Marcus felt quite willing now that the excitement caused by the flying +foe was at an end, and, soon after, Serge's little store was drawn upon, +and, quite happy and contented, the two old companions made what Marcus +thought was the most appetising breakfast he had ever had in his life. + +"Hah!" cried Serge, as they rose at last. "Now let's go down to the +stream for a drink. Always camp, my lad, beside a river or a lake; and +if you can't--" He stopped short. + +"Well, if you can't?" said Marcus. + +"Why, then you must go thirsty, same as you must go hungry too +sometimes. Didn't I always teach you that a soldier's first duty was to +learn how to fast?" + +"Oh, yes, I remember," said Marcus, as he lay down to drink, while his +companion watched, and then drank in turn, rising to say, as he drew a +long, deep breath: + +"There, that's as much as I want now. Nice clear water, and we've left +plenty for the next as comes. But a deal of trouble I used to have in +the face of plenty to make you believe it was a soldier's duty to learn +how to fast. You always were the hungriest boy I ever knew." + +Marcus laughed, and looked wonderingly at his companion, who now stood +up stiffly with his hands resting upon his spear. + +"Well, Serge, what now?" cried Marcus. + +"Only waiting, captain. Orders to advance." + +"Forward!" cried Marcus; and, the next minute, with eyes eagerly +scanning the track in front, they were marching together side by side on +the way to Rome. + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN. + +WEARING ARMOUR. + +It was some hours afterwards, when the sun was beating down hotly, that +Serge suggested that they should have half an hour's rest in the shade +of a clump of huge, spiral-barked chestnuts, whose dark, glossy-green +leaves were spread over a bend of the track which had evidently been +slightly diverted so that those who followed it might take advantage of +the shade. + +The trees were approached cautiously, and the pair scouted round the +clump to make sure it was untenanted before they stretched themselves +amongst the mossy, radiating roots that spread far and wide. + +"There seem to have been plenty of people here," said Marcus, pointing +to where the soft, moist earth was full of imprints. "There have been +wheeled carriages here." + +"Yes," grunted Serge. "Those are ox waggons. See?" + +"Yes," said Marcus. "But those others are different." + +"Yes," said Serge. "Chariot wheels, those." + +"How do you know?" said Marcus, sharply. + +"Look at 'em," grunted the old soldier. "Can't you see they are light? +They are made to gallop. Those others were made to crawl. Why, it's +printed all about that they were chariot wheels. Look at the marks of +the horses' hoofs." + +"Oh yes, I see," cried Marcus. "The waggons show nothing but the feet +of oxen. But how come there to be chariot wheels about here?" + +"How did that Roman general, Caius Julius, come to the farm?" + +"I don't know," said Marcus, starting. "I never thought of that." + +"I did," said Serge, with a grunt which might have been copied from one +of the swine he had so often driven. + +"How did he come?" cried Marcus. + +"Same way as he went back to Rome." + +"Of course," cried the boy, impatiently. "But how was that?" + +"With chariots and horsemen." + +"Are you sure? I saw none." + +"Didn't go down to the village to look?" + +"No; I had too much to think of." + +"So had I," said Serge; "but I went and looked all the same. There was +a grand chariot and a lot of horsemen, and it was in that chariot that, +after walking down to the village, the master went away." + +"Oh, then they must be far ahead," cried Marcus. + +"Yes; at Rome before now." + +"And I have been expecting that we might come upon them at any moment," +said Marcus, with a sigh of relief. "Then we shan't see them till we +get there?" + +"And like enough not then," said Serge, with a grim smile; "so you may +make yourself comfortable about this scolding that's got to come, for it +won't be yet." + +"But we shall see my father as soon as we get to the army." + +"Some time perhaps," said Serge; "but the army will be miles long +perhaps on the march, and it's hard work, boy, to find one in a hundred +thousand men." + +"Then we may not find him!" cried Marcus, in an agonised tone. + +"Well, no, my lad, but you may make your mind happy about that. One +man's not bound to find his general, but his general's pretty sure to +find him, or the legion he is in. There, don't you fidget about that. +If you and me hadn't done any harm we should be pretty safe, but so sure +as one does what one ought not to do, one may make up one's mind that +he'll be found out." + +The rest was pleasant, but Marcus did not feel so satisfied in his own +mind when they started once again on the tramp. + +It was on the evening of a hot and wearying day that Marcus sat in a +shady grove, gladly resting, while Serge was relieving him of his armour +and carefully hanging it piece by piece from, one or other of the +branches by which they were surrounded. + +"Grand thing, armour," said the old soldier, as he watched the tired boy +from the corners of his eyes. + +Marcus started from a waking dream of Rome and its glories as he +pictured it in his own mind. + +"Oh yes," he said, hastily; "glorious!" + +"Nice and bright and shining, and makes a man seem worth looking at when +it's on, eh?" + +"Yes," said Marcus, with a faint sigh. + +"How proud you felt when you'd got yours; eh, my lad?" + +"Yes, very," said Marcus. + +"Nice dress to walk in." + +"But it's rather heavy in this hot weather," ventured Marcus. + +"Heavy, boy? Why, of course it is. If it wasn't heavy the barbarians' +swords and spears would go through it as if it was sheep skin. But +yours fits you beautifully, and will for ever so long yet--if you don't +grow," added the man, slily. + +Marcus turned upon him peevishly. + +"Well, I can't help growing, can I?" he cried. + +"Oh no, boy; course you can't till you've done growing, and then you +won't grow any more." + +"Do you think I don't know that?" snapped out the boy. + +"No. Oh no; but what's the matter with your shoulder?" + +"Nothing much," said Marcus, sourly. "Those shoulder straps rub that +one, and the back part frets my neck." + +"Does it? That's bad; but I'll put that right when you put it on in the +morning. Don't you mind about that: after a bit your skin'll get hard, +and what feels to worry and rub you will be soft as a duck's breast." + +"Nonsense! How can bronze and brass get to be soft as feathers, Serge?" + +"Oh, I dunno, my lad," replied the old soldier, slowly, "but it do. I +suppose," he added, mockingly, "you get so much glory on your shoulders +that it pads you out and makes your armour fit like wax. It is heavy, +though, at first. Mine worried me the first day, because I hadn't worn +it for years; but it sits lovely now, and I could run and jump and do +anything. Helmet too did feel a bit lumpy; but I felt it more in my +toes than on my head." + +"Are you laughing at me, Serge?" cried Marcus, turning upon the man, +sharply. + +"Can't you see I'm not, boy? Why, I'm as serious as a centurion with a +new command." + +"But do you think I'm going to believe that you felt your heavy helmet +in your toes?" + +"Of course I do, boy," said the man, chuckling. "If it's heavy, don't +the weight go right down to the bottom and drive your toes hard to the +very end of your sandals?" + +"I didn't think of that, Serge," said the boy, a trifle less irritably. + +"S'pose not, boy. You haven't got to the end of everything that there +is to know. Besides, your helmet is light." + +"Light?" cried Marcus, bitterly. + +"Well, of course it aren't as light as a straw hat as you can tilt off +every time you come into the shade, and let it hang between your +shoulders, same as you do your shield." + +"And I suppose that is?" said Marcus, sharply. + +"What, as a straw hat, boy? Well, I don't say that," said Serge, drily, +"because it do weigh a tidy bit. But that helmet of yours, as I took +care should be just right for a boy, is too light altogether." + +"Bah!" cried Marcus. "Why, it has made my forehead and the back just +behind my ears as sore as sore." + +"Pooh! That isn't because the helmet's too heavy; it's on account of +your head being so soft and green. It'll be hard enough before the end +of this war. Why, if it were lighter, every crack you got in your first +fight would make it give way like an eggshell; and then where would you +be, my lad? Come, come, cheer up! You're a bit tired with this tramp-- +the first big one you've had. You'll be better in the morning, and +before this time to-morrow night I dare say we shall be in sight of Rome +and its hills and the Tiber, and, take my word for it, you won't feel +tired then." + +"Think not. Serge?" + +"Sure of it, boy. Man who's a bit worn out feels as if everything's +wrong, and the flies that come buzzing about seem to be as big as crows; +but after a good sleep when the sun rises again to make everything look +bright, he sees clearer; the flies don't seem to buzz, only hum pleasant +like, and what there is of them is golden-green and shiny, and not a bit +bigger than a fly should be." + +"But I'm disappointed, Serge. I hoped to see my father as soon as I +reached Rome, and get this trouble off my mind." + +"Instead of which it has to wait. Well, never mind, lad. It will be +easier perhaps then. Now then, you do as I say: lie down at once close +up there to that dry, sandy bit, and sleep as hard as you can till +morning. Then we'll set off and get to Rome as soon as we can, and hear +about the army and which way it has gone." + +"Perhaps it will not have started yet?" said Marcus, eagerly. + +"Like as not, my lad, but, if it has, we can follow it up. Now then, be +sharp, for I want to lie down too. We shall be fresh as the field +flowers in the morning, for no one is likely to disturb us here." + +Marcus said nothing, for he knew that the old soldier's words were meant +to encourage him, and he thought so more than ever, as, free now from +his heavy armour, he lay looking upward, listening to the faint hum of +beetles and seeing the glint of the stars through the trees, while he +thought of their journey and the disappointment he felt over Serge's +words, while it seemed to him all a part of his thinking instead of a +dream--a confused dream when he fancied himself back at the old house +seeking for Serge and finding the dog crouched down in the shed where +the great stone cistern stood, and in the harvest time the grapes were +trodden, those grown in their little vineyard and those from the +neighbouring farms where there was no convenience of the kind. + +But as he was about to turn away and fasten the door, it seemed strange +that the place should be lit up by sunshine coming aslant through the +trees, when it was late in the evening and dark. But so it was, with +Lupe couching down, making no attempt to follow or pass him as he closed +the door, but resting his long, fierce-looking jaws upon his extended +paws, till, after trying hard to puzzle out why it was so, Marcus came +fully to his waking senses and sat up suddenly, while Lupe followed his +example, to burst out into a deep, joyous bark. + +"What!" now came in a deep voice from behind Marcus. "Why, Lupe, dog, +have you found your way here?" + + + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN. + +THE NEW RECRUIT. + +The dog had been lying for hours watching the sleepers, who had lain +perfectly unconscious of the presence of such a sentry and guardian, +while he had crouched there with his muzzle almost touching Marcus' +breast, pricking up his ears at the slightest sound made by some +nocturnal food-seeking creature, and uttering a low sigh of content as +he settled himself down again. + +Several times over he had heard some sound which he could not +understand, and upon these occasions he sprang up, smothering the low +growl that tried for exit, and seeming to understand the necessity for +caution, he began to reconnoitre in the direction from which the +suspicious noise had come. + +Had anybody been there to watch the dog, what they had seen would have +excited wonder at the amount of reason that the animal displayed; not +that Lupe, big wolf-hound, one of the kind kept by the peasantry in the +far-back past for the protection of their flocks, was anything +exceptional, for plenty of dogs at the present time are ready to display +an instinct that is almost human. + +Point out some very human act, and there are plenty who will tell you +either that it is the result of teaching, or that it has come naturally +from the dog's long continued intercourse with man. One ventures to +think that it is something more than teaching that makes a shut-out dog +wait till he sees what he considers to be a suitable stranger whom he +has never seen before, and then trot up to him and begin to gambol and +lead him on till the gate or door is reached, stopping short then and +saying as plainly as a dog can speak in barks--not the most expressive +language in the world--Open it and let me in. + +Lupe was evidently a dog that could reason in his way, and attributing +two of these interruptions of the night to the presence of wolves that +had come prowling down from the hills, he set off cautiously, with the +thick, dense hair bristling up about his neck, his armour against his +deadly enemy's teeth, and his black gums retiring to display his +trap-like jaws full of glistening ivory teeth. And all the time, in +spite of his efforts, there was a low, deep sound like young thunder +rumbling somewhere in his chest. + +But in each case, before he had gone far, Lupe's reason told him that +his natural enemies did not come prowling down from the mountains during +the soft summer nights, but waited till their hunger was sharpened by +the frosts of winter, and that he was over-anxious regarding the safety +of those he had come so far to find, judging rightly that the sounds he +had heard and magnified were only caused by some innocent little animal +which did not smell in the least like a wolf. So he trotted slowly +back, making sounds suggestive of mutterings against his own stupidity, +and dropped quietly down once more to watch. + +"Why, Serge," cried Marcus, "how could that dog manage to find us all +this distance from home?" + +"I dunno," said the old soldier, stooping down to caress the +savage-looking beast in his customary way, which was to bang him heavily +on both shoulders with his great, horny hand, the blows given being such +as would have made an ordinary dog howl; but their effect upon Lupe was +to make him half close his eyes, open his wide jaws, and loll out his +long, lambent tongue, which curled up at the end; and, as it quivered in +the fresh morning light, he rolled over upon his back and began patting +playfully at Serge's hand. + +"Don't knock him about like that, Serge," cried Marcus. + +"Knock him about?" cried the old soldier. "Why, he likes it; it loosens +his skin and makes it fit easy, and knocks out the dust. How did he +manage to find his way here? Ask him. I dunno. I left him at home, +yelping about and uneasy like, looking as if he'd like to go at the +general and tear his toga off his back." + +"I left him," cried Marcus, "hunting all over the place to find you. He +came twice over into my room, whining and asking me where you were." + +"Did he?" cried Serge. "Good old dog!" And he gave the animal a few +more of his tender caresses, with the result that the dog wriggled +himself along snake-like fashion upon his spine, and then made a playful +dab at his friend's hand. + +"I found him at last," continued Marcus, "in the press-house, and when I +came away I shut him up." + +"What, to starve?" + +"No, no; I thought he would howl till someone came and let him out; but +I didn't want him to follow me. Someone must have let him out in the +morning." + +"Oh, I don't know," said Serge, who began replacing his armour. "He'd +have got out somehow, through the window or roof." + +"He couldn't," cried Marcus. + +"Think not? Then he'd have scratched a way for himself under the door." + +"Well, but then?" + +"Oh, then--he'd have stood and smelt about till he'd got hold of our +scent, and then come on." + +"What, all this way and all this time? The scent couldn't have lain so +long." + +"It never seems to me that there's any scent at all," said Serge, "but +old Lupe there somehow seems to do it. He _is_ a dog, and no mistake. +Why, he's lost himself time after time going after the wolves when I +have been out hunting, and it has seemed to me that I should never find +him again. Why, you know, he's been away sometimes for days, but he's +always found his way back. Well, now then, give yourself your orders to +get ready to march, and let's get on to Rome." + +"Yes, of course," cried Marcus. + +"But how do you feel, lad? You seemed ready to knock up last night, +tired out." + +"Did I?" cried Marcus, flushing slightly. + +"Did yer? Why, you seemed sore all over, whining about your armour and +your helmet." + +"Oh, nonsense!" cried the boy, as he hastily followed his companion's +lead, handily buckling and securing his defensive armour the while. "We +had had a very long march, and it was as hot as could be. I feel quite +fresh this morning." + +"Ready for anything, eh? Well, what about this chap?" + +"Lupe?" + +"Yes; we don't want him. The general won't want him to join." + +"No-o," said Marcus, thoughtfully, as he stooped to pat the dog's head, +a favour which Lupe responded to by leaning himself as hard as he could +against his young master's legs. "I should like to have him with us, +Serge." + +"So should I, boy, if it comes to that. He'd have been splendid with +us, and saved us scouting when those rough uns were hanging round. Why, +if I had had him with me when those six came on they would have been no +worse than three, and I shouldn't have wanted you." + +"Yes," said Marcus, thoughtfully, "I should like to keep him with us, +but I'm afraid we shall have to send him away." + +"Send him away!" cried Serge. "You may try to send, but he won't go. +We can't take him with us," continued the man, drily, "and it looks to +me as if we shall have to make an end of him and hang him on the nearest +tree." + +"What!" cried Marcus with a look of horror. "You wouldn't be such a +brute?" + +"No," said Serge, slowly, "I suppose I wouldn't; but what are we to do? +The first captain that we speak to when we get to the army and ask him +to let us join his lot will shake his head at us if we bring a dog." + +"Yes, I suppose so," said Marcus, thoughtfully. + +"But look here, we wouldn't bring him. We didn't bring him. He came. +The country's free for all, and if he chooses to follow us we are not to +blame." + +"Well, that's right. Are you nearly ready?" + +"Yes," said Marcus, taking his helmet from where it rested in the fork +of a young tree, and lowering it slowly upon his head. + +"Does it hurt?" said Serge. + +"Oh no, it feels quite comfortable now. Why?" + +"Because you put it on as if it were red hot. But give the word +`forward,' captain, and let's march. The first farm or house we come to +we must halt and forage. My wallet's empty, and we want something very +much better than water for our next meal." + +"Forward, then!" cried Marcus, and the dog responded with a volley of +his deep barking, and bounded off before them, old Serge smiling grimly +the while. + +"Got his nose straight for Rome," he said, with a laugh. "Why, if I was +a general, Master Marcus, and going to lead our armies against the +barbarians as won't let us alone but keep on attacking and wanting to +come to plunder the riches of the place, and carry the Roman people off +as slaves, do you know what I'd do?" + +"Beat them and drive them back, and make them slaves instead," replied +Marcus. + +"Ah, but besides that, my lad, I'd get together an army of dogs like our +Lupe, and set them to work to tear 'em down and chase 'em away." + +"Oh, barbarous!" cried Marcus, laughing. + +"Barbarous! Aren't they barbarians? Why, I don't believe you could +manage it in a better way." + + + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. + +TOO LATE. + +It was the beginning of a tramp that lasted days. + +Rome had been soon reached, but they were too late to witness the +turmoil of excitement that had preceded and accompanied the departure of +the last division of the army which, Marcus and his companion gathered +from a group of invalided soldiers left behind, had been tarrying and +awaiting the return of Caius Julius to assume the supreme command. He, +they were told, had been away upon a mission to claim the assistance of +some great general who was supposed to be an old friend full of wisdom; +and he, they told Serge, had been brought in triumph to the city, to +place himself with Julius at the head of the waiting men. + +"You should have been here then," said one old man, "and seen the +welcome they had from our gallant boys and the women who crowded the +streets waiting to see them go. Ah, it made the tears come into my old +eyes to think that I should be left behind." + +"Then why were you left behind?" growled Serge. "You are not an older +man than I." + +"No," said the old soldier, laughing softly, "but you have two legs to +march on. I have only one and this stick." + +Marcus glanced sharply down at the speaker, and, seeing the boy's +intention, the old fellow laughed again. + +"Oh, yes, you are thinking I lie. There's two of them, my lad, and +one's as good a leg as ever stepped; but as for the other, it's years +ago now, when I was with Julius, and I got a swoop from a Gallic sword; +the savage ducked down as I struck at him, and brought his blade round +to catch me just above the heel. But he never made another blow," +continued the old man, grimly. "My short, sharp sword took him in the +chest, and he never hurt a Roman again." + +"But you got over your wound?" cried Marcus, eagerly. + +"It soon healed up, my lad, but he had cut through the tendon, and I was +never fit to march again, or I shouldn't be talking to you here. But +look here, old fellow, you were ready enough to twit me about not being +with the army. Why are you not there?" + +"Can't you see we are too late?" growled Serge, angrily. + +"Oh yes, that's plain enough," said the old man, maliciously, as he +rested upon his staff, "and some great fighting men who win great +battles with their tongues are always too late to strike a blow. How is +it you are late like that?" + +"Oh, that's what you want to know, is it?" said Serge, surlily. + +"Yes," said the old man. "A man with legs like yours ought to have been +there." + +"Well, I'll tell you," said Serge. "It was like this. My chariot had +gone to have new wheels. But perhaps I might have made the old ones do. +But both my chariot horses were down with a sort of fever. Then the +driver had gone away to get married and couldn't be found, and so I had +to walk. And now you know." + +"Bah!" cried the old man. "Look at your rough hands! You have been +like me. You never had a chariot or horses of your own. You're only a +working man. All lies." + +"Every word of it," said Serge, grinning, "'cept that it's true about me +and the youngster here having to walk like our dog. But we want to get +there, brother, as soon as we can, so put us on our way to overtake the +army, or by a short track to cut it off." + +"Do you mean it?" said the old soldier. + +"Mean it? Of course!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "The division, mind, +that's led by Caius Julius." + +"Ho, ho, my young cockerel!" cried the old man. "Then nothing will do +for you but the best?" + +"Nothing," cried Marcus, eagerly. "We want to be where that great +general is that Julius went to seek. Now put us on the way." + +"That's easily done," cried the old man. "There's a troop of horse that +sets off to-night to follow the rear-guard, and they'll have chariots +with them too. Go and see if you can get along with them. You've no +horses, but you might run beside the chariots, and their drivers, as +soon as they see there's stuff in you and that you want to fight, will +give you a lift from time to time." + +"Run beside the chariots, eh?" said Serge, with a laugh, as he glanced +at Marcus. "Running would suit you better, my lad, than it would me. +I've got a deal more flesh to carry than you have, and running is not +good in armour with a big helmet on your head. You'd have something to +grumble at about feeling sore, or I'm mistaken. But never mind; we want +to get there, don't we?" + +"Oh yes, we must get on," cried Marcus, "and if we can't run we can +walk." + +"What I was going to say," cried Serge, "so put us on the right way, old +comrade," he continued, to the old cripple, "and you shan't want for +something to pay for to-morrow; eh, Marcus, my lad?" + +"Oh no," cried the boy, thrusting his hand into his pouch; but Serge +clapped a hand upon his arm. + +"Wait a bit, boy," he said. "Don't pay for your work until it is done." + +A short time before, weary with their long tramp, the disappointment of +finding that they were quite left behind had made the future look blank +and dismal. But the old cripple's words seemed to bring the sun out +again, and he hobbled along by their side through street after street, +chattering volubly about his old experiences with the army and his +disappointment now in seeing the sturdy warriors march off, legion after +legion, leaving him behind. + +"Ah," he said, "it's lucky to be you, able to go, and luckier still for +you to have met me who can lead you to the place where the last party +are camping." + +"Where's that?" said Marcus, sharply, for the man seemed to be taking +them a very devious course. + +"Just outside the gate, over yonder. There, you can see the wall, and +in a few minutes we shall be there." + +The old soldier's words proved to be quite true, as, at the end of a few +minutes, he led them to the little camp, all astir with the soldiery +preparing to start--horsemen, chariots, baggage, horses and camp +followers, all were there, with the leaders fuming and fretting about +making the last preparations, and eager to make the start. + +The old soldier gave his new friends a nudge of the elbow and a very +knowing look. + +"I know what to do," he said. "You leave it to me. I wasn't in a +marching army for years without learning something. Yonder is a big +captain, there by that standard. Nothing like going to the top at once. +Come along." + +The old cripple drew himself up as well as he could, and, thumping his +stick heavily down, led the way to the fierce-looking captain, whose +face looked scarlet with anger and excitement. + +"Here, captain," cried the old man. + +The officer turned upon him angrily. + +"Who are you, and what do you want?" he roared. + +The old man pointed to Marcus and Serge. + +"Two brave fighting men," he cried; "volunteers, well-armed and trained, +who want to join." + +"Oh, I've all I want," cried the captain, roughly, "and--" He stopped +short, for, as he spoke, he ran his eyes over the two strangers, resting +them longest upon Serge, and he hesitated. + +"Here, you," he said, as he noted the way in which Marcus' companion was +caparisoned, "you've been in the army before?" + +"Years, captain," cried Serge, with military promptness. "I served with +Cracis and Julius in the old war." + +"Hah! You'll do," cried the captain. "But I don't want boys." + +Marcus' spirits had been rising to the highest point, but the +contemptuous tone in which these words were uttered dashed his hopes to +the ground, and he listened despairingly as in imagination he saw +himself rudely separated from his companion and left behind. + +The thoughts were instantaneous, and he was consoling himself with the +reflection that Serge would not forsake him, and anticipating the old +soldier's words, as Serge turned sharply upon his new commander. + +"Boys grow into men, captain," he said, sharply, "and I've trained this +one myself. He can handle a sword and spear better than I." + +"Hah!" cried the captain, as he looked critically at Marcus, examining +him from top to toe, whilst, as if for no reason whatever, he slowly +drew his sword, while Marcus, who stood spear in hand and shield before +him, in the attitude he had been taught by Serge, quivered beneath the +captain's searching eye. + +"Trained him yourself, have you?" + +"Yes, captain--well." + +"He can use his weapons?" + +"Yes, captain." + +To the astonishment of both Serge and Marcus, and as if without the +slightest reason, the big, burly, war-like captain made one step forward +and with it like lightning he struck a blow with his sword right at the +comb of Marcus' helmet, such a one as would have, had it been intended, +brought the boy to his knees. + +But Serge had spoken truth when he said that he trained Marcus well, +for, quicker in his action than the deliverer of the blow, Marcus had +thrown up his shield-bearing left arm, there was a loud clang upon its +metal guards as he received the sword blow, and, the next moment, the +captain drew back as sharply as he had advanced, to avoid the boy's +short spear, directed at his throat. + +"Good!" he cried. "Well done, boy!" And he began to sheath his sword. +"Your teacher, an old hand, no doubt, could not have done better. Why, +boy," he continued, "you are a soldier, every inch," and he grasped the +lad by both arms. "But this won't do; you must lay on muscle here, and +thicken and deepen in the chest. That helmet's too heavy for you too. +Yes, you are quite a boy--a brave one, no doubt, and well-trained; but +you are too young and slight to stand the hardships of a rough campaign. +I should like to take you, but I want men--strong men like your +companion here--and I should be wronging your parents if I took you. +Whose son are you, boy?" + +"My father is Cracis, sir, a friend of Caius Julius, and he is at the +front." + +"Ha!" cried the officer, looking at him searchingly. "Then why are you +at the rear?" + +Marcus' spirits had been rising again, and his eyes were sparkling, lit +up as they were by hope; but at that question down they went directly to +the lowest point. + +He tried hard to look firmly in the captain's face, but his eyes would +blench. He tried to speak, but he could not answer, and he stood +quivering in every nerve, shamefaced and humbled, while his trouble +increased and he turned his eyes upon Serge, looking appealingly at him +for help, as the big officer suddenly exclaimed, as he caught him by the +shoulder: + +"Why, you young dog, it's all written in your face! You've run away! +Ha-ha! I don't mean from the fight, but to it. Let me see. Am I +right? You being a trained young soldier, wanted to go with your father +to the war, and he told you to stay at home. You've run away to follow +him. Am I right?" + +Marcus looked at him firmly now. There was no shrinking in his eyes, +for he was uttering the truth. + +"Yes, sir," he said, huskily; "quite right." + +"Well, but I say, captain," growled Serge, "that's all true enough, +every word. But the boy aren't a bit worse than me. The master said I +was to stop at home and mind him and the swine and things about the +farm; but I couldn't do it with the smell of battle in the air, being an +old soldier, don't you see, and the master gone to lead. I felt like +the boy did, ashamed to stop and let one's armour rust when Rome's +enemies were waiting to be beaten. I felt obliged to come, and so did +young Marcus here. A brave boy, captain, so don't be hard." + +"Hah!" cried the captain, frowning severely. "A nice pair, both of you! +It isn't likely, but how could I meet Cracis or Julius by and by if I +took you into my following?" + +"Oh, we'd keep out of sight, captain," growled Serge. + +The captain pointed mockingly at Marcus. + +"He doesn't look much like a boy who'd keep out of sight, old warrior," +he said. "Far more likely to thrust himself into the front with all the +unbalanced rashness of a boy. A nice pair indeed! But I should like to +have a thousand of you, all the same. No, I don't think I ought to take +you, boy," he continued, slowly, with a very severe frown gathering on +his forehead. "But look here; I don't like to stand in the light of one +of Rome's brave sons, however young, at a time when our country needs +their help. But tell me, boy; if I say to you, go back home and wait a +year or two till you have grown more of a man, you will go back at once, +will you not?" + +"Shall you tell Serge to go back too?" replied Marcus, sharply. + +"Most certainly not," said the captain, laughing. "He has offered his +services, and I have taken him. You will have to go home alone. Tell +me, will you obey my orders?" + +"No," said Marcus, firmly. "I am not going to forsake old Serge." + +"You are a pretty fellow for a volunteer," cried the captain, merrily. +"Ask me to take you into my following, and, at the first command I give +you, tell me flat to my nose that you won't obey!" + +"I'll do anything else you tell me, captain, but that," cried Marcus, +quickly. + +"Well, boy," said the captain. "But stop. What shall you do now?" + +"Find my way to the army alone," said Marcus, quickly. + +"You'd never do that, boy. The country ahead is in a state of war, and +swarms with ruffians hanging about the heels of the army like wolves +following a drove of sheep--worse, these, than the enemy. Boy, before +many days had passed you'd be stripped of all your bravery, robbed for +the sake of your weapons, and left dead or dying somewhere in the +forest." + +"I can fight, sir," said Marcus, proudly, "and my sword and spear are +sharp." + +"Yes, boy, and I should be sorry for the one or two who tried to stop +your way. But wolves hunt in packs, and can pull the bravest down. Are +you heeding what I say?" + +Marcus nodded. He could not speak, but stood gazing at Serge, who had +taken off his helmet and with a face full of perplexity was vigorously +scratching at his grizzled head. + +"Well, boy," continued the captain, "I have thought it over and I must +do my duty, which is to send you back." + +"Oh!" cried Marcus, and throwing his spear sharply into his left hand he +held out his right to Serge. + +"But if I do that duty," continued the captain, "it will be to expose +you to greater risks amongst the marauders gathering everywhere now than +if I take you with me." + +"And you will let me come?" cried Marcus. + +"I am obliged to, boy," said the captain, smiling, "for I can't help +feeling that Cracis, if we meet, would blame me more for doing my duty +than for letting you come. Here, old man, you shall not tramp after our +horse to come in weary and distressed at every halt. I'll put the boy, +as he is Cracis' son, in one of the chariots, one of the light ones +drawn by Thracian horses. There are several with their drivers yonder +that I have not yet manned. You as his spearman may accompany him, of +course. There, boy, no thanks," continued the captain, sternly. "I +have no time for more. Off with you to your place. One of my officers +will see that all is right. What is that man? Away with you!" he +shouted to the old crippled soldier, who had heard all and now hobbled +forward to speak. But a couple of soldiers placed their spear shafts +before him and drove him back. + +But Marcus had seen, and sprang after him, dived under the spears and +pressed a few coins into his hand before he was hurried away, babbling +his thanks. + +"I'd about given it up, Marcus, boy," said Serge just then. "Here, come +along; here's a young captain waiting to show us where to go, and my +word, talk about a piece of luck! I thought I was going to be taken +away, never to see you again, and here we are. A chariot and pair with +our own driver, and me to sit behind you and do nothing but tell you how +to fight. Here, come along. Talk about a piece of luck! How old are +you? Eighteen. Why, you'll be a general at the end of another week!" + + + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. + +THE CHARIOTEER. + +"I shall never be able to do it, Serge," said Marcus, nervously, as he +stood with his old companion looking admiringly at a pair of +fiery-looking little steeds harnessed to a low chariot just big enough +to afford room for three. + +The little pair were being held, stamping and covering their sides with +the foam they champed from their bits, by a short, broad-shouldered, +swarthy driver, who had his work to restrain the impatient little +animals. + +They were less in size than what would now be termed cobs, almost +ponies, but beautifully formed, arched-necked and heavily maned and +tailed, a pair that had excited admiration in the boy's eyes as soon as +he saw the chariot to which he had been led. But they were almost wild, +and ready to resent the buffets given by their driver with teeth and +hoofs. + +"A chariot to be proud of," Serge had growled in the boy's ear. "Why, a +captain needn't wish for better. I don't know what the master will say +when he sees you." + +"Oh, don't talk about the meeting, Serge. I feel so excited," replied +the boy, and then he added the words which head this chapter. + +"Never be able to do what?" cried the old soldier. + +"Manage the chariot. It seems too much for me." + +"Tchah!" cried Serge. "Don't want no managing. You've got your driver +to take you where you tell him right at the enemy, when you get your +orders to advance, and cut them up. You'll stand there in front with +your spear or javelin, and I shall sit behind ready with spare ones for +you to throw when you are amongst the enemy, and stop anyone who tries +to come up behind if he's foolish enough. But I don't hold with +throwing javelins. It wants a lot of practice, and those who have +practised most, when they are going at full gallop, are pretty well sure +to miss. I should like for you to use your spear, and keep it tightly +in your hand. It means closer quarters, but your thrusts are surer, and +you do better work. Besides, you don't lose your weapon." + +"But I feel it's almost too much for me." + +"Then don't feel at all," said the old soldier. "Go and do what you've +got to do along with the cavalry when you have got your orders, and +don't think at all. What you have got to do is to skirmish and drive +the enemy, and what I have got to do is to mind they don't skirmish and +drive you. There, jump in boldly, and look as big as you can." + +"Nonsense! How am I to look big?" + +"By opening your mouth, boy, and speaking loud. You are not afraid?" + +"Oh no, I am not afraid," cried Marcus. + +"Then don't let that little driver chap think you are," whispered Serge. +"Act like a captain. That little fellow is only your slave, but if you +put on a scared look he'll try to play the master. Unlucky for him if +he does, for, if he don't do what he's told, I'll crack him like I would +a nut." + +There was no time for more conversation, for the little detachment under +the captain's command had already begun to advance; an order was brought +to the cavalry, and the chariot driver appealed to Serge to come and +stand at the horses' heads for a moment while he took the reins. + +Serge changed places with him directly, while the driver assumed the +reins, the slight touch upon the ponies' withers making them snort and +plunge as much as Serge's strong arms at their bits would allow. + +Then a trumpet rang out, Serge joined his young master in the chariot, +and in a few minutes the ponies had settled down into a steady progress +at the rear of the column. + +Exciting days followed, during which Marcus began to learn lessons of +what it meant to advance into an enemy's country, the necessity of being +constantly on the alert, where everyone was unfriendly, and to loiter +behind the main body meant being cut off, leaving the loiterer's place +in the column empty. + +It was all new to Marcus, as those days passed on, and his captain +followed exactly in the track of the army that had gone before, working +his men hard, practising various evolutions, keeping them on the alert +and ready for action at a moment's notice. + +It was on one of these occasions, many days after their start, that +towards evening a halt was called just after the column had moved out +from a narrow mountain ravine, such a place as had presented plenty of +opportunities for the enemy, had they been near, to descend from one of +the side gorges and attack, to the cutting off of the column. + +And all this had necessitated careful scouting and watchfulness on the +part of the leader. But at last it seemed as if they had ridden out +into safety, a wide, open plain stretching before them, suitable for +forming camp for the night, where there was no risk of ambush or +surprise. + +A murmur of satisfaction ran through the column as posts were set, fires +lit, and the men began settling down. Marcus' horses had given up a +good deal of their wildness and begun to form a kind of friendship with +Lupe, who had narrowly escaped execution, consequent upon the effect +that he had had upon Marcus' chariot pair, who, whenever he came near, +had exhibited a frantic determination to tear off at full speed, and +this generally where the ground was of the very roughest character and +the destruction of the chariot would have been certain. + +It had been a difficulty, but, like other difficulties better or worse, +it had been mastered, and, instead of meeting his death, the constant +training, through which the chariots and horsemen had passed, resulted +in the above-named friendly feeling, and now, at an advance, the dog +took his place just in front of the fiery little steeds and trotted +before them, while when they halted, he took it as a matter of course +that one or other of the beautiful little animals should stretch out its +arched neck, nuzzle among his bristly hairs, and at times close its +teeth upon the back of the dog's neck and attempt to raise him from the +ground. + +"I should never have thought he would have stood it, my lad," said +Serge; "but he has found out it means friendly, or else he'd bark and +let them have his teeth in turn." + +This was said as the sturdy driver was freeing the pair from their place +on each side of the chariot pole and twisting up their traces, for night +was falling fast, and the men's fires were beginning to twinkle here and +there. + +"Tired, boy?" said the old soldier, who was carefully removing the dust +from his armour. + +"Horribly," replied Marcus. "I want to lie down and sleep. Oh, how I +can sleep to-night!" + +The words had hardly passed his lips when there was the blare of a +trumpet, followed by another and another, with the result that it seemed +as if a nest of hornets had been disturbed, for a loud buzzing filled +the darkening air, leaders' voices rose giving orders, and there was a +murmur punctuated, so to speak, by the clinking of armour, the rattle of +weapons against shields, and the whinnying and squealing of horses, +accompanied by angry cries from those who were harnessing them again. + +"And I was so tired, Serge," said Marcus, as he finished hurrying on his +armour. "What does it mean?" + +"An alarm or an advance; I can't say which, boy. But be smart. We may +get our orders at any moment." + +"I shall be ready directly. There, he has done harnessing the horses. +Down, Lupe! Quiet! Keep away from their heads." + +The dog crouched in front, just beyond the reach of one of the horses, +waiting patiently for what was next to come. + +"Ah, you are the best off, after all," said Marcus, "You just get up on +all four legs, give yourself a shake, and you are ready for anything." + +The dog looked up, gave the speaker a friendly growl, and then let his +head rest again upon his extended paws, while Marcus walked to the side +of his chariot horses to pat and caress their arched necks, friendly +advances which were now accepted by the savage little animals without +any attempts to bite, while he could pass behind them now without having +to beware of a lightning-like kick. + +"All ready?" growled Serge, who had just loosened the throwing spears he +had laid in the bottom of the chariot. + +"Oh yes, I am ready; but can't I lie down and sleep till the order comes +to advance?" + +"No, you can't," growled Serge. "A soldier shouldn't want to sleep when +he is waiting for the trumpet to sound." + +"Oh, I don't know," said Marcus, peevishly. "I should have thought he +ought to snatch a little sleep whenever he could." + +"That's right," said the old soldier, grumpily. "But he can't now." + +"Why?" said Marcus, with a yawn. + +"Because the foot soldiers are starting now, and the horse went scouting +on ten minutes ago. I wonder we haven't got our orders before this." + +"Why, we shouldn't have been ready if they had come," said Marcus. + +"No," growled Serge. "We with the chariots are horribly slow. It's all +through having to depend upon these driver fellows and our horses having +to drag a clumsy car at their heels. Now look here, I am beginning to +think that the enemy's afoot coming down to surprise us, and, if so, we +with the chariots shall have our turn." + +"What makes you think that?" cried Marcus, shaking off his drowsiness at +these words. + +"I don't know, boy, only I do. In with you. Now we are off." + +The driver was already in his place as Marcus sprang into the chariot, +and seized one of the throwing spears, to be followed directly by Serge; +for an order rang out, there was a peculiar sound as the horses started +at the first shaking of their reins and the guttural cries of their +drivers, and then, in a fairly well-kept line, some twenty of the +war-like cars, drawn by their snorting horses, advanced in line over the +moderately smooth plain in the direction already taken by the foot and +horse. But as they nearly came within touch, the mounted figure of the +captain was seen facing them in front, where he sat ready to give a +fresh order, when the line of chariots broke, as it were, in two, half +passing him to left, the other half to right, to take up position on the +flanks of the infantry, which was about a couple of hundred yards in +advance. + +The next minute from out of the darkness ahead there came faintly the +sound of shouts, accompanied by the beating of hoofs, and a horseman +tore up to the captain, to make some communication which caused him to +set spurs to his horse and gallop forward, while Marcus, as his chariot +rolled on, rested his hand on the front and peered forward over his +horses' heads into the bank of gloom which now grew more and more alive +with sound. + +There was the heavy tramp, tramp of armed men, followed by the sudden +rush and thunder of hoofs, while where he stood there was the rattle of +the chariot wheels and the cries of the drivers as they urged their +horses on. + +"How are you, boy?" said Serge, hoarsely, with his lips close to his +young master's ear. + +"Oh, I'm well enough," was the reply, "but I can't see. I want to know +what we are going to do." + +"Don't you want to lie down and have a sleep?" said Serge, grimly. + +"Sleep? No! I want to understand what's going on." + +"What for?" growled Serge. "What's it got to do with you?" + +"What has it got to do with me?" cried Marcus, without turning his head. + +"Yes; what's it got to do with you? That's the captain's business. We +are advancing slowly, and by and by when the enemy has passed through +our cavalry, and delivered its attack upon our foot, and they are coming +on--I can hear them hurrah, boy! This isn't a false alarm. Hear that +shouting?" + +"Hear it, yes!" + +"That's the enemy, and they are very strong too." + +"How do you know?" + +"I can hear them, boy." + +"Oh, then why don't we gallop forward and attack?" cried Marcus, +excitedly. + +"Because it arn't our time. There! Hear that?" + +"Yes; what does it mean?" cried Marcus, as a dull, low, clattering sound +was heard. + +"Why, you ought to know by now. That's our foot-men joining shields +together to receive the enemy's horse, which must have scattered ours. +They are driven back, and they will come round behind us if I am not +mistaken." + +"What, have they run away?" cried Marcus. + +"Oh no, boy. Bent back to right and left. They were taken by surprise, +I should say, and gave way. That's the art of war. And now! Hark at +them! The enemy's coming down with a rush upon our infantry to cut them +up and sweep us all away." + +"What!" cried Marcus, wildly. "And we in the chariots are ambling on +like this! Oh, if I could only see something besides that line in +front!" + +"See with your ears, boy, as I do," growled Serge. "This is the first +bit of real work I have been in for many a year, but it's all going +right. We have got a captain over us who knows what he is about. +There! What did I say? Hear that?" + +It was plain enough to hear: a confused rush of galloping hoofs away in +front beyond the line of infantry, another thunder of galloping horses +panting and snorting as they rushed by in the darkness close at hand, +and another body away to Marcus' left, beyond the second half of the +line of chariots. This ceased directly afterwards, and, as the boy +glanced back, he could see a mass of horsemen forming up behind the +cars, while, at the same moment from away in front, there was a terrific +burst of savage yells, answered by shouts of defiance and the clatter of +spears and shields, mingled with a confused clash as the enemy's +horsemen charged home upon the infantry. + +Marcus' ears rang with the confusion of sounds which followed--cries of +agony, shouts of triumph, and the trampling of horses, and then a roar, +above which rang out somewhere near at hand the shrill note of a +clarion, whose effect was to make the chariot horses burst into a +gallop. + +"Now we are off," shouted Serge into the boy's ear. "Your spear, lad. +Throw when you get a chance; I have another ready for you. But don't +waste your stroke." + +Marcus heard, but he did not heed, for his heart was beating violently, +his head swimming with excitement, and he felt half stunned, half +maddened, as he was borne onward, his chariot about the middle of the +little line so close together that, moment by moment, it seemed as if +the wheels of the cars on either side must come into collision. + +But the collision was not to be there, for as, excited by the yells of +their drivers, the little pairs tore on, there suddenly seemed to spring +up out of the darkness ahead a confused crowd of mounted men; and then +there was a shock, and Marcus felt his car leap forward on its wheels, +rising on one side as if to overturn, but coming down level directly and +bounding oh again at the heels of his excited steeds. + +He could not see to right or left, but he was conscious that there were +other chariots tearing on beside him, and there was another shock, and +another, mingled with yells and cries, and then they were racing on +again apparently being hunted by a body of horse, and it seemed to the +boy as if his and his fellow chariots were in full flight. + +But just then there were the faint notes of a trumpet, and, as they tore +on, the line of chariots swung round as upon a pivot and began to tear +back. + +And now it seemed to Marcus that the horsemen who had been pursuing them +were taking flight in turn, and, as he realised this, the boy shouted to +his driver to drive more swiftly. + +"No, no!" yelled Serge, furiously. "Steady! Steady! And keep in +line." + +"But they will get away!" cried the boy, mad now with excitement. + +"Bah! You don't understand," cried Serge. "Those are our horsemen." + +Another trumpet brayed out and the cavalry in front of the chariots +swung round to right and left, making an opening through which they +passed, slackening their speed, but careering on till Marcus made out a +solid body of infantry on his right front. + +A minute later the chariots had wheeled round again in the infantry's +rear, and in the distance there was, dying away, the sound of hoofs. + +"Well, boy, what do you think of that?" said a voice in Marcus' ear. + +"I--I don't know," panted Marcus, as short of breath as if he had been +running hard. "I don't think I understand." + +"Ha, ha!" laughed Serge, hoarsely. "I don't suppose you do. I don't +quite myself, but I should think that was a big body of the Gallic horse +who came down thinking to surprise us and to snuff us out. But they +found out their mistake." + +"And where are they now?" panted Marcus. + +"Oh, far away. You can just hear them in the distance. They have gone +off beaten, with their tails between their legs. Couldn't you feel how +we cut them up?" + +"Cut them up!" said Marcus. + +"Yes. Don't you remember how we tore through them, crash into their +midst, after they were broken from their charge upon our infantry, which +stood together like a rock? It was splendid, boy, though it was almost +too dark to see." + +"Oh yes, I recollect something of it; but it was all wild and confused +and strange. I couldn't see anything clearly." + +"No more could anyone else, boy. We, who do the fighting, never see." + +"Because it was so dark to-night." + +"It would be just the same by day. But, hallo! Where's your spear?" + +"I don't know," said Marcus, staring. "Oh, I think I remember, I threw +it at a horseman, just before we went crash upon him and the chariot was +nearly overturned. But there, don't ask me. It seemed to be all one +wild struggle and noise, and my head's all whirling now." + +"Well, what did you expect it to be?" + +"Oh, I don't know," said Marcus. "But tell me, Serge, have we won?" + +"Won? Of course! We Romans always do. This was through our leader's +skill, training against an undisciplined horde of horsemen, twice our +number I should think. They are in full retreat, and I expect we shall +find they have left half their number upon the field." + +"Hark!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "Here they come again!" + +"No, boy; not at a gentle trot like that. Those you hear are the best +portion of our horsemen who have been pursuing and scattering the enemy +far and wide. Rather exciting all this, my lad, eh?" + +"Exciting? Yes! Only I couldn't understand." + +"But your captain could, my boy, and won the fight. Here, catch hold of +this; and next time you throw your spear, pick up another, sharp." + +"But oughtn't you to have given me one directly? You taught me +something of the kind." + +"So I did, boy; but you see I have been out of practice for many years, +and forgot my duty in the hurry of the fight; but I won't do so again." + + + +CHAPTER NINETEEN. + +OLD SERGE MUSES. + +"Sure you are not hurt, boy?" said Serge, as they stood waiting by the +chariot for further orders, their sturdy little driver taking advantage +of the opportunity to carefully attend to his steeds. + +"Hurt? No!" cried Marcus. "I only feel hot and excited." + +"Of course you do; but I don't suppose we shall move now for some time, +till the captain's scouts that he must have sent out bring back news of +the enemy, and then he will camp for the rest of the night. He ought +to. I should, so as to give the men a rest ready for when the enemy +attacks again in the morning." + +"But you said that the enemy were beaten and driven away." + +"So they were, boy, but in a war like this they will only make for the +mountains and collect together again ready for a fresh attack as soon as +they get the chance." + +"But will they keep on doing that?" cried Marcus. + +"Of course they will whenever they feel strong enough; and when they are +weak they will give up." + +"Oh, I don't understand it a bit," cried Marcus. + +"Well, you don't want to understand it," said Serge. "That's for the +generals and big captains to do. All that they want of us is to fight." + +"But why is this war?" said Marcus, impatiently. + +"Oh, I suppose it's because some of the tribes have been attacking and +plundering and carrying off cattle and goods of the country people, till +the chiefs say: This sort of thing must be stopped, and they collect an +army, talk it over with the peaceful tribes who are ready to be friends, +and then with their help march into the enemy's country, conquer it, and +bring them to their senses. That's what we do, and used to do--bring +all these nations round about under the rule of Rome. These we are +fighting with now are the peoples off to the north and west. They have +got all sorts of names, but I suppose they are all Gauls. But now look +here: a bit ago you were so tired out with your long march that you +wanted to sleep. Half the night hasn't gone, so the best thing you can +do is to curl yourself up and sleep till sunrise as hard as you can." + +"Sleep!" cried Marcus, mockingly. "Who's to sleep at a time like this?" + +"A soldier, of course, and be glad to when he gets the chance." + +"Oh, I couldn't sleep," cried Marcus. "I feel all bubbling over with +excitement, and if I were to lie down I should seem to be galloping over +the fields again." + +"Nonsense! You lie down and have a sleep. You always used to mind what +I said when I tried to teach you. Do so now, and get some rest." + +"But suppose they come back and attack us again?" + +"Well, we shall have warning. There are scouts and sentries out in all +directions, and you would have plenty of time to get up into the +chariot, I dare say. There, lie down." + +"Don't you order me, Serge," said the boy, peevishly. "You are not my +officer." + +"No, we are only comrades, and I am not ordering, only telling you for +the best. There, get a sleep, boy, while you can." + +"Well, I'll lie down, but I can't sleep, Serge. I shall be thinking +about the war, and the tribes that are coming to attack us, all the +night." + +"Very well, boy, think about them, then, as you are so anxious to +understand all about the war. I'd be sure and call you when you are +wanted. I am not greedy about having all the fighting to myself. You +shall have your share." + +"Very well," said Marcus, and selecting a place that seemed a little +less hard than the stony ground in their close neighbourhood, and where +he was not likely to be trampled upon by any of the chariot horses, he +threw himself down, but started up again in alarm with his hand seeking +his sword, for a big lump of stone dimly-seen in the darkness suddenly +seemed endowed with life, springing up to give itself a rough shake, and +assuming the form of a big dog. + +"Why, Lupe, you here?" cried Marcus, laughing. "Look here, Serge; he +was lying here curled up, asleep. Where's he been all the time?" + +"Taking care of himself and waiting for us to come back, I suppose. +There, do you want a lesson in campaigning, boy?" + +"No, not to-night, thank you. You said I was to go to sleep." + +"Of course; and here's your lesson all the same. Make Lupe lie down, +and use him for a warm, dry pillow. Not a bad thing at a time like +this. A deal better than a horse, for it isn't always you can get them +to lie down, and a horse's hoofs are rather bad company if he gets +restless in the night." + +Half irritably in his exalted state Marcus turned away with a gesture of +annoyance. + +"Down, Lupe! Lie down!" growled the old soldier; and as the dog +obediently subsided on the rough ground, the boy thought better of it, +sank upon his knees, and then awkwardly in his armour adjusted himself +so that he could lay his face with his cheek in the rough hair about the +dog's neck. + +There was something comforting and friendly in the deep, satisfied sigh +Lupe gave, holding quite rigid as he stretched himself out, while Marcus +said to himself: + +"Oh, this is stupid! I shall never go to sleep like this;" and he lay +staring right before him at the indistinctly seen chariot with its pair +of horses standing together, one or the other every now and then giving +an impatient stamp or whinnying softly. + +Beyond them and their driver all was dark confusion, out of which came +murmurs of voices, the jingling of armour, and a suggestion of people +passing to and fro. + +And then the darkness seemed to lighten and horses were tearing along at +full gallop with the enemy in front, and Marcus gave a sudden start, his +sharp movement producing a low remonstrant growl from his pillow. + +"What was that?" thought Marcus. "Why, I must have been asleep. Ah, +there it is again!" For from somewhere out of the darkness there came a +low agonised cry which made the boy sit up and listen. + +"Are you there, Serge?" he said, softly. + +"Yes. What is it, boy?" came from the back of the chariot, where the +old soldier had seated himself; and he rose at once and crossed the few +yards which lay between him and his young companion's resting place. + +"Did you hear that?" asked Marcus. + +"Oh, yes, I heard it, boy." + +"What was it?" + +"A wounded man. They have been carrying some in from over yonder." + +"How horrible!" whispered the boy. "Let's go and help him." + +"No, go to sleep. You can do nothing there." + +"Sleep!" cried the boy, reproachfully. "Who can sleep with anyone +suffering like that?" + +"You," said Serge, quietly. "You have been asleep an hour, and of +course there have been plenty of poor fellows carried by, enemies and +friends." + +"But--" began Marcus. + +"Go to sleep again, boy. You can do nothing there. We'd go together if +we could help." + +Marcus was silent as he lay resting on one hand, listening and thinking +what it was his duty to do, but listening in vain, for no such sound +again broke the silence of the night, while after standing by him a few +minutes, Serge walked away into the darkness and then returned to his +seat in the chariot, where he too, utterly devoid of all inclination to +sleep, sat and thought about their position there and asked himself +whether it was yet too late to reverse their plans, and seeking the +first opportunity to hurry his young companion away from the scenes of +carnage and the dangers by which they were surrounded. + +"I have done wrong all along," he muttered to himself. "I went against +my orders, and some day I shall have to face the master and answer for +myself. Yes," he muttered, "I must take him back." And with the full +intention, as he sat there leaning his left shoulder against the side of +the chariot, of leaving the little rear-guard of the army as soon as he +could, Serge changed his position to the other side of the chariot to +rest his right side, and as he subsided against the hard iron-bound +wood, listening for danger, the galloping-in of scouts, or some other +warning of another night attack, a fresh current of thoughts began to +chase each other through his brain. + +"No," he said, "I won't go, and if I would he'd say again that he +wouldn't come. He's a soldier's son, and it comes natural to him. What +am I growling at myself for? I didn't set him to run away. He came of +himself, and if I hadn't done the same he'd have been here all alone +without me to watch over him, take his part, and help him, same as he +did me when I was attacked. Why, after all, everything's gone right and +happened as it should. We are in for it, and must go on. But this +won't do; I mustn't go to sleep." And springing up, the old soldier +took a few steps up and down like a sentry, before stopping short and +going down on one knee, steadying himself the while by means of his +spear, and bending over Marcus, who was sleeping heavily, his breath +coming regularly as he lay there deaf to everything that was going on +around, while the dog uttered a low whine and lifted his heavy tail +slowly, to beat with it softly upon the ground. + +"He's all right," said Serge, and he backed away again, to march up to +the horses, pat them, and then say a word or two to their driver, who +was lying upon his back just in front, sleeping heavily and quite +unconscious of Serge's presence. + +The latter took another turn or two up and down, thinking deeply the +while. + +"Yes," he said softly, "what I told the boy's about right, and I can +tell him some more to-morrow, for out here in the darkness and silence +all my old soldiering seems to be coming back. We are a sort of +rear-guard, that's what we are, and it's our job to keep some miles +behind the main army, to prevent the enemy from closing in and harassing +our troops, besides seeing that they carry out the general's orders and +bring up the food and forage they as a conquered people are ordered to +supply. Conquered people!" he said, with a contemptuous ejaculation. +"Why, it's like digging a channel through a bed of dry sand. I know +what this country is. If we go on like this for a few days we shall be +right in amongst the mountains, full of holes and hiding-places where +the enemy can lurk, and as fast as they are driven off they will be like +dry sand, as I said, and come running back again." + +Serge went and bent over Marcus again to satisfy himself that the boy +was sleeping deeply, and uttered a low grunt that might have been +learned of the swine he tended at the farm. + +"Do him no end of good," he muttered--"strengthen his legs." And he +began to walk up and down again, pausing once or twice to pat the horses +and growl at the driver, who was sleeping hard with his mouth wide open. + +"Yes," muttered the old soldier, "a good sleep will do the boy good-- +harden his legs. I said my old soldiering was coming back; I wish my +old legs would come back and be the same as they used to when I could +walk for weeks, instead of aching like this when I haven't had to walk, +but have been riding all day. Hah!" he sighed, as he lowered himself +down into the back of the chariot to lean against the side once more. +"I can keep watch over him just as well sitting down as standing up. I +don't see that I need watch at all when the boy's got a pillow with a +set of teeth like a rat trap that will take fast hold of anyone who came +to interfere with him. But there's the master. We have got to meet +some day, and I shall have to give an account of myself. `What were you +doing away from the farm?' he'll say. `Watching over your boy, master,' +says I. That will have him on the hip. That's my only chance, the only +thing that will save me." + +Serge's grim face relaxed, and he rolled about in his seat, chuckling +softly. + +"It will get me off," he said; "it will get me off with the master. He +won't be very hard on me after that. It aren't quite honest, for I +never thought a bit about the boy when I went away. But I did mean to +take him back, and I'd have done it too, and stopped with him, only he +was too much for me. Ah, he's a clever one. He's only a boy, but he's +got a lot of man in him, and when he gets ripe, you mark my words," he +said, softly, staring hard at the dimly-seen driver the while, "he'll be +as big a man as his father. I don't mean as to size; like as not he'll +be bigger. I mean as to his head. It aren't quite fair, and maybe it's +a bit like deceiving the master to answer him like that when he says, +`What are you doing there?' and I says, `Watching over your boy, +master,' But I am going to watch over him, and I'll stick to him, and +I'll die for him if I'm obliged; and you can't say that arn't honest." + +Serge bent forward and literally glared at the sleeping driver, who +muttered something in reply. + +"Ah, you may say what you like," muttered Serge, "but that will be +honest; and if you put that in one side of the balance, and my forsaking +the old place when I was told to stay, in the other, they'll weigh +pretty much alike. Yes, I'll watch over him, master, like a man, just +as I would have done if he had been my own, for somehow I always seemed +to like him, and I suppose I should have felt just about the same if he +had been mine. It's precious dark and quiet enough now. I don't +suppose we shall be disturbed before daylight, for the enemy got more +than they expected, so I may just as well sit and rest. I can watch +over him just the same, and--" Serge's next utterance was not +understandable if treated as words, but perfectly plain if considered as +a snore, for he had sunk sideways till his head rested on the hard edge +of the car, while at regular intervals he gave vent to a series of deep +gruff tones which sounded as if his neck were bent at such a severe +angle that there was not room for his breath to pass comfortably round +the corner. + +It was not comfortable for him, for though he was sleeping very soundly, +his rest was uneasy, consequent upon which he began to dream in a +troubled way about being at home; and his busy brain put its own +interpretation upon the sounds that rose from his chest and interfered +with the soundness of his sleep, so that, half awakened, he lay back +listening to his own snoring and attributed it to something else, +gradually awakening more and more the while. + +"Hark at that!" he muttered. "And after all the trouble I took to mend +that bit of fence! Talk about sheep always following one another +through a gap, why they are nothing to swine! They want a gap, too, for +the leader to go through, but an old boar big with that snout of his and +them tusks, he'll bore and bore and bore till he makes a little hole a +big un, and once he gets his snout in he drives on till he gets right +through. Now, I've mended that hole so as you'd have thought it was +quite safe; but hark at that! He's got right through into the garden, +and the old sow and the young uns has followed him. But just wait a bit +till I get my staff, and I'll make such music as will bring Master +Marcus out to ask me if I am killing a pig. There's no room about the +place to please them, no miles of acorn and chestnut forest so that they +can fill themselves as full as sacks, but they must come into my garden +and raven there! Nothing will do for them but my melons and cucumbers! +Well, we'll just see about that." + +Serge rose from his seat, after taking hold of the spear that he had +rested against the side of the chariot, and with his eyes closely shut +took a couple of steps forward, and then stopped short with his eyes +wide open, as he stared wildly round in an absolute state of confusion +and strove hard to make out where he was. + +For some moments his mind was a complete blank, and the darkness seemed +impenetrable, while his mind absolutely refused to answer the mental +question--Where am I? + +Then he knew, and there was fierce anger in the low tones of his voice, +which formed the self-accusatory words: + +"Why, I've been asleep!" + +He struck a sharp blow with the staff of his spear; but it was not at +the imaginary patriarch of the home herd, but at his own head, which was +saved from harm by his helmet, the stroke causing a sharp sound +sufficiently loud to make Lupe utter an ominous growl, and the horses +where they were tethered start and stamp. + +"And sarve you right too!" growled Serge, removing his helmet, which he +had knocked on one side, and softly rubbing one spot that had felt the +bottom edge keenly. "And here have I been going on about being honest +and keeping a true watch over that boy! Here, I'm proud of myself, I +am! If I go to sleep again it shall be standing up, anyhow." And +pulling himself together he shouldered his spear and commenced pacing up +and down, to keep it up steadily hour after hour, only pausing to listen +from time to time, to hear nothing more suspicious than the regular +night sounds of a camp surrounded by sentries and scouts and on the +watch for an enemy known to be near at hand. + +Marcus slept well till daybreak, when the first warning of the enemy's +movements was given, and he sprang to his feet, to find himself face to +face with Serge. + +"What was that?" he cried. + +"Trumpet, boy. Make ready. The enemy's going to stir us up again." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY. + +IN THE SNOWY PASS. + +Serge's announcement was quite correct, for while the Romans rested, the +enemy had been gathering together again among the hills, and were coming +on in force to attack the camp; but what they had failed to do by their +night attack proved doubly difficult in the light of day. The little +Roman force, though vastly outnumbered and surrounded, was well +commanded by a skilful officer, who was able, by keeping his +well-disciplined men together, to roll back the desultory attacks +delivered on all sides, till, quite disheartened, the enemy retreated in +all directions and the march was resumed again. + +That day's tramp and the many that followed were a succession of marches +through an enemy's country, with the foe always on the watch to harass +the little force, and cut it off from joining the main invading body far +ahead. + +Every day brought its skirmishes, with victory constantly on the Roman +side. + +There was no want of bravery on the enemy's part, but the discipline of +the little civilised division with its strong coherence was too much for +the loose dashes, ambushes, and traps that were laid. + +The consequence was a slow, steady advance that nothing could impede, +through the fertile plains of the South and ever onward, with the +snow-capped mountains growing nearer and nearer, till the great pass was +at hand that had been traversed by the main army, and no difficulty was +then experienced as to the route, for its passage was marked plainly +enough by the traces of the many encounters and the ruin and destruction +that indicated its way. + +"Shall we never overtake them?" said Marcus, one evening. + +"Well, if we keep on I suppose we shall," replied the old soldier. "But +what's your hurry? Are you tired out?" + +"Oh, no," cried the boy; "we don't go fast enough for that; but I am +anxious to join father once again." + +"Humph!" grunted Serge. "I don't feel so much in a hurry myself. +Perhaps we shan't overtake him at all." + +"But we are going to join the army." + +"We are going just where our captain takes us, boy. He's doing his work +splendidly, and so are we." + +"What, keeping on with these little petty skirmishes?" + +"Of course, boy. Don't you see how we are keeping the enemy from +closing in about the army's rear, and saving them from destroying and +burning every homestead and village whose supplies are wanted for our +men?" + +"Oh, I don't quite understand," cried Marcus, impatiently. + +"Leave it to your leader, then, boy. That's what a good soldier ought +to do. But what's the matter with you? Cold?" + +"Yes, horribly. Why, it was as hot as could be in the valley this +morning." + +"Well, no wonder," said Serge, with a grim smile. "We were all amongst +the trees and pleasant grass down there, and now on each side and +straight before you--" + +"Yes," said Marcus, as he glanced around him. "It looks all very bleak +and bare down here." + +"Up here, boy. We have been steadily rising all the day. Look at the +ice and snow up yonder and straight before us. This time to-morrow we +shall be shivering amongst the snow." + +"But we can't get the horses and the baggage right over that mountain in +front." And he pointed at the jagged peaks and hollows which were +glistening like gold in the last rays of the setting sun. + +"No, boy, but we can go on along this rugged valley, which leads right +through, and then when we get to the top of the pass begins to go down +again, when we shall find it getting warmer every hour till we are once +more in the plains amongst the green fields and forests of the enemy's +country. Look there at that stream," and the old soldier pointed to the +dingy-coloured rushing waters which flowed by the side of the level +which their leader had chosen as the site of that night's camp. + +"Yes, I see; and it isn't fit to drink," said Marcus. + +"Snow water," said the old man, shortly. "Well, which way does it run?" + +"Why, towards us, of course." + +"Well, by this time to-morrow, if it's like one that I tramped by with +your father years ago, we shall have found it coming out from underneath +a bed of ice, left it behind, and on the other side of the hill come +upon another flowing right away to the north and west; and alongside of +that road will be our road, right into the enemy's country, and the +enemy posted every here and there to stop us from reaching the plain-- +that is, if Julius and your father have not driven them right away. But +most likely they have, and all our troubles now will come from the +rear." + +Serge's remarks, based upon old experience, proved to be pretty correct, +for the troubles of the little force began to come thick and fast. Up +to the time of that last halt the attacks had been made by the little +parties, each under its own leader, and they came from front, rear, and +flanks, in all directions, for the rush made by one portion of a tribe +would act as the signal for others to follow suit, and it frequently +happened that the Roman soldiers were completely surrounded. But now as +they moved on towards the north and west, the pass they had entered and +which wound or zig-zagged its way more into the mountain chain which +divided the land of the Gauls from the Roman dominions, closed in more +and more, beginning as a beautiful open valley and gradually changing +its nature as it rose till it assumed the nature of a gorge or rift. +The sides were no longer soft grassy slopes broken by little vales which +afforded shelter for the enemy, and from which they made their fiercest +rushes, coming down like furious torrents from the hills and often in +company with the streams by whose sides they made their way, but hour by +hour grew steeper till they assumed the nature of rugged walls, +impassable to any but climbers or the goats that browsed their sterile +paths in herds. The mountains here towered up higher and higher in +their stern frowning majesty, scantily furnished with growth, save here +and there the earth that had been washed down from above afforded +sustenance to a patch of spear-like pines with their dark, sombre, +blackish green needles. The roughest of rough stony tracks was now the +detachment's path, and it became hard work, approaching to climbing, for +the heavily-armed foot soldiers, difficult for the cavalry--whose horses +needed the sure-footedness of mules to get along, their riders having to +dismount and lead their steeds--while for the little train of chariots +the difficulties were almost insurmountable. The pony-like pairs that +drew them were safer footed and got on better than the heavier animals +that bore the Roman mounted men, but the chariots were always in need of +help. Sometimes one wheel would be high in the air, sometimes the +other, while often the drivers and riders had to make a rush to help +drag or push the low, heavy vehicles over some more rugged spot. + +For there was no regular road now that they were beyond the Roman +dominions, where directly a country was conquered the new owners set +themselves to form a level military road, but simply a rough, +rock-encumbered track. + +"Yes, it's bad going," Serge said, "but it would want a far worse way +than this to keep back a Roman army. Our men with all their baggage +have been along here, as you see, so of course we can follow; and it's +splendid for us in the way of safety." + +"Yes," agreed Marcus; "every attack must come now from the front or +rear. These mountain walls make splendid allies to guard our flanks." + +"Front--rear--flanks! Well done!" cried Serge. "I like that. You're +getting quite the soldier, my boy." + +Matters proved to be better still as they moved higher up the pass, not +in the way of the road improving, but respecting the difficulties with +the enemy, for after the latter had made a brave stand in one spot where +the pass widened out for a space, and fought stubbornly for a while, the +little Roman force cut their way through and into the narrow portion +where the walls of the gorge closed quite up on either side, leaving +only room for the grey muddy stream and the road track along which +Marcus and his friends made their way, completely freed from all attack +save from the rear, where a fierce pursuit was kept up, fresh parties of +the enemy giving up and retreating after delivering their attack and +being rolled back. + +The fighting was sharp, the brunt of it being borne by the foot +soldiers, who protected the rear, while the chariots were forced over +the many difficulties and the horses helped along, a portion of the foot +being far in advance, ready for any body of the enemy which might be +blocking their way in ambush. + +It had been rough work that day, and the men, after the amount of +fighting they had gone through, were beginning to look dispirited and +feel disheartened, for in addition to the length of the struggle, the +supplies had run short, and everyone knew that no more food could be +obtained until they had forced their way through the desolate pass, over +the summit, and down the other side to the cultivated and inhabited +regions below. + +But their leader was well suited to his task, and he seemed to be +everywhere, with a word or two of encouragement and praise, stopping to +help the men with the baggage animals, heading a party sent forward to +lever the great blocks of stone that impeded progress, and ready +directly after to urge his trembling horse back among the rocks the +moment the echoes of the shouts behind warned him that there was a fresh +attack in the rear. There were two of these, one directly after the +start at sunrise, and a second high up the pass at mid-day, when as he +bade the horsemen and the chariots pass on, he laughingly in Marcus' +hearing told his soldiery to make use of the loose rocks to form a rough +breastwork behind which they could fight, and all the better for the +cavalry being out of their way. + +That fight was bitter and long sustained, and as the turmoil came +echoing up the gorge to where Marcus and Serge were striving hard to +master the difficulties before them and urge their willing little +chariot horses on, the latter frowned as he rubbed his blue nose and +responded to something Marcus had said. + +"No, my lad," he replied; "they're not getting the better of our men, +and they will not. We hear so much of what is going on because the +sound comes up as if through a trumpet." + +"Comes up, Serge?" + +"Yes, my lad; we're a couple of thousand feet higher than they are below +yonder, and the reason the fight lasts so long is because the enemy keep +on bringing up fresh men." + +"Think so?" said Marcus. + +"I'm sure of it, my lad. Yesterday and before there were thousands of +them scattered in droves all about us; now the pass is so narrow that +they are all squeezed up together; and so much the better for us." + +"Why?" asked Marcus. + +"Because we've got such a narrow front to defend. Why, you know what a +scrap of road there was where the captain halted his men." + +"Yes," said Marcus; "just like a gash cut through the rock." + +"That's right," said the old soldier. "Well, a line of twenty men would +have been sufficient to guard that bit." + +"More than enough," said Marcus. + +"Right, boy. Well, he has got six or seven hundred there, and no army +that the enemy can bring up can drive our men from that stronghold. +There are only two things that can master them." + +"What are they?" said Marcus, anxiously. + +"Cold and hunger." + +"Ah!" sighed Marcus. + +"There, don't groan like that, boy," cried the old soldier, sharply. +"It sounded as if you hadn't had anything to eat for a week, and I'm +sure you're not cold." + +"Then you're wrong," cried Marcus, "for I am bitterly cold." + +"That shows you haven't worked hard enough. Come on and let's get +behind the chariot and help the horses with a push." + +"Yes, presently," said Marcus, as he glanced at the brave little beasts, +which looked hot in spite of the fact that a chilly wind was blowing +down the gorge, and that they were standing up to their knees in snow. +"I'm a bit out of breath too." + +"Don't talk, then, boy," growled Serge. "Save your wind." + +"But I want to talk," continued Marcus. "You've been over this pass +before?" + +"Nay, not this one, boy, but one like it farther east." + +"Like this? But was it so strange?" + +"What do you mean by strange, my lad?" + +"Why, for us to be going to rest last night with the country all round +seeming to be in summer, while as we've come along to-day we've got into +autumn, and now we're going right into the depth of winter." + +"Yes, my lad, but it's summer all the same. It's only because we're so +high up, same as you used to see it at home when you looked up towards +the mountains and saw them covered with snow." + +"But this doesn't look like snow, Serge," said the boy, kicking up the +icy particles. "It is more like piled-up heaps of hail after a heavy +storm. Ugh! It does look winterly! Ice and snow everywhere, and not a +green thing to be seen." + +"All the more reason, boy, why we should push on, get over the highest +bit, and then every step we take will be for the better." + +"Shall we be out of this cutting icy wind that comes roaring up between +these two great walls of rock?" + +"To be sure we shall," said Serge, cheerfully; "and it'll be something +to talk about when we've done it and are down below in the warm sunshine +to-morrow morning, eating new bread and drinking milk." + +"I don't want to talk about it, Serge," said Marcus, beginning to talk +in a dull, drowsy way. "I shall want to sleep and rest. I feel as if I +could do so now." + +"Do you? Then you mustn't; and we must stop anyone who tries to. Why, +it reminds me, boy, of old times when we crossed that other pass. Some +of our men would lie down to sleep, but they never got up again." + +"Why?" cried Marcus, in a horrified tone. + +"Frozen stiff, boy. Once you're up amongst the snow you can't stop, +only to get breath; you must push on; and I wish someone would give me +orders to go on now." + +Marcus was silent for a few moments, as if thinking deeply. + +"Don't feel more sleepy, boy, do you?" said Serge, sharply. + +"No; that seems to have woke me up," was the reply; and taking a few +steps forward with difficulty, for his feet sank right in at every step, +Marcus leaned over into the car and caught Lupe by the ear where he lay +curled up with his rough coat on end. + +The boy's movement was quickly and excitedly performed, a feeling of +dread having attacked him that the dog might have been frozen stiff; but +at the touch the animal gave a cheery bark, bounded out of the car, and +began to plough his way through the snow, at first after the fashion of +a pig, and then by throwing himself down first on one side and then upon +the other. + +"I was half afraid, Serge," said Marcus. + +"You needn't have been, boy," replied the old soldier. "You see, +Nature's given him a warm, thick coat, and he makes it thicker whenever +he likes by setting his bristles up on end." + +"But that would make it more open and thinner, Serge." + +"Nay, but it don't, boy. Somehow it keeps warm all inside between the +hairs, and the cold can't get through." + +"I don't understand why that should be, Serge," said Marcus, +thoughtfully. + +"I don't neither," said the man, "but it is so. It's one of those funny +things in Nature. Why, look at the birds. What do they do when a snow +storm comes down from the mountains in winter? They don't squeeze their +feathers down tight, do they?" + +"No," said Marcus, thoughtfully; "they seem to set them all up on end, +just as they do when they go to roost, and they look twice as big." + +"To be sure they do, boy. You don't feel sleepy now?" + +"No, not a bit. But I say, Serge, will there be more snow higher up the +pass?" + +"Most likely, boy; and I want to get at the job of fighting our way +through it. We ought to be going on. Hallo! Hear that?" + +"Yes. What does it mean?" + +"It's the reason why we with the horses are not pushed on. That's what +I was afraid of." + +"Afraid?" + +"There, don't take a man up short that way," growled Serge. "I didn't +mean afraid; I meant expected. The enemy have attacked our men right up +yonder in the front, and they've got us between them. Well, all the +better. Something for us to do, and keep us warm." + +"But I was hoping that we might be pushed on now." + +"So was I, boy, but it won't be yet," growled Serge. "I say, don't let +your mouth get watering for the new bread and warm milk just yet." + +"No," groaned Marcus, rather piteously. + +"But it will be all the nicer and sweeter when it comes, boy. I say, +there was only one thing that could possibly have happened to make us +worse off." + +"What, having to fight in this snow, Serge?" + +"Nay, that would have warmed us, lad. I meant, come on to snow." + +"Snow at this time of year?" cried Marcus. + +"It snows up in the mountains at all times of the year, boy," growled +Serge. "Down below in the plains it only rains, but up here it snows; +and here it comes, and someone else too. I expect things are going +wrong in the rear, or else he has heard the attack in front, and has +come to see." + +For a blinding and dense squall of snow came raging through the pass, +leaving horsemen and chariots as white as their chief, whose horse came +churning its way through the hail-like coating that stood half way up +the wheels, close to which its rider reined in. + +"Find it cold, my lads?" he cried cheerily, and was answered by a chorus +of assent. + +"Well, I've brought you up news to warm you. The men below are holding +the enemy in check, and they have begun to retire, which means to +support us and drive those back who are trying to stop us at the head of +the pass. Make ready. Ah, my boy, you there? Well, are you tired of +seeking your father?" + +Marcus shook his head. + +"Well," said the captain, "tired or not there is no going back, for you +could not cut through two or three thousand of the enemy alone. There, +we shall soon be through this frozen pass, and making our way down into +the sunny plains. Winter now, and summer this time to-morrow. Ready +there, advance!" + +As their chief spoke loudly, Marcus caught sight through the haze of +snow which seemed to hold the darkness of night above, the head of a +column of the foot soldiers making a steady advance, looking as if they +were wearing a fresh form of decoration, every man's helmet plume being +increased in size by a trimming of the purest, whitest swans-down or +filmy, flocculent silver itself. + +But there was no time for studying appearances; all now was stern, +earnest work. At the first order given by the chief, Lupe seemed to +take it that he was concerned, and set up a hoarse barking, which seemed +to animate the chariot horses, notably his friends attached to Marcus' +chariot, which began to stamp and paw up the snow beneath their feet, +while when their driver took his place by their heads they plunged +forward, tugging the heavy vehicle out of the ruts into which the wheels +had cut for themselves. Then with the snow squall driving on before +them leaving the trampled snow ahead freshly smoothed, and lighting the +darkness of the night, there was a dull, grinding, creaking sound of +wheels and yielding snow as it was trampled down into a better road, and +good progress was made, for the slope in advance was more gradual, and +the hollows and pitfalls between the rugged stones that strewed the way +were levelled down. + +It was a strange and weird procession, as Marcus tramped on step by step +with Serge, behind the chariot, into which Lupe had suddenly leaped to +stand with his paws planted upon the front of the vehicle, which now +looked as if it had been turned into silver. And there were moments +when the boy felt that it must all be part of a dream. + +But there was nothing dream-like in the sounds that came downward +between the great snowy walls, for they were those of desperate +fighting--the shouts of defiance of the Roman soldiers mingled with the +barbarous cries of the Gauls, who had gathered together again in the +great gateway from which they had been driven by the troops of Caius +Julius, and were now striving to prevent the descent of the Roman +rear-guard into their fruitful plains, and if possible entrap these new +troops between their own forces, which were holding them shut in the +deep, long, wintry gorge. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. + +A GOOD COMPANION. + +It was a curious sound, that made by the snow which lay so thickly +beneath sandal, hoof and wheel. As it was pressed together it literally +squeaked as if it possessed feeling and remonstrated at being crushed +down from light feathery snow into solid ice. + +The sounds it gave forth were at times quite loud, and were repeated +back from the towering rocks on either side. Farther on it would be a +soft crunch, crunch, mingled with the bumping of wheels and the plunging +of a horse as it struggled to drag its hoofs out of some depression into +which they had sunk, while, animated by the presence of their leader, +the horsemen cheered on the animals they led, and the charioteers helped +their pairs to drag the heavy cars over the snow-covered track. + +The pass grew more and more like some huge rift in the mountain which +seemed to have been split open by lightning, whose form the deep way had +in some degree assumed. + +For a few hundred yards the train would be going straight, till an acute +angle was reached, when for a distance the line would be forced to +almost double back to another point and double back again. It was a +savage kind of zig-zag which always led higher and higher, while as they +neared the top, the snow grew deeper and the walls on either side +closer, while these were not only perpendicular but in many cases +actually overhanging. + +The horses' hoofs and the chariot wheels at last sank in so far, in +spite of their being unburdened, that the leader commanded a halt for +rest, and as this order was obeyed, Marcus, from where he stood panting, +with one hand that had been used to push forward the chariot resting now +upon its back, felt awe-stricken at the strange silence that for a +moment or two dwelt deep down in the jagged furrow, before it was broken +by the peculiar panting of exhausted men and steeds who were striving to +regain their wind, while a mist formed by the breath rendered everything +indistinct along the line, as it rose visibly on high. + +For plainly now from the front came the sound of contending warriors, +apparently close at hand, though far enough away as yet, but increased +in power by being condensed into a narrow space, as it reverberated +along the pass from wall to wall. + +But not alone from the front; fainter, but minute by minute gathering +strength, similar sounds came from the rear, telling plainly enough of +the fight that was going on where the foot-men were holding back the +advancing enemy during a steady retiring movement that could hardly be +called a retreat. + +"I don't like this, boy," whispered Serge, who was resting against the +other side of the chariot. + +"Are we being beaten, Serge?" asked Marcus. + +"Oh, no, boy; they can't beat us. But they have got us in this narrow +gully where only a few men back and front can fight at once. Why, you +know for yourself here are all our mounted troops and us with the +chariots doing nothing but struggle through the snow, and never getting +a spear thrust at anyone. That's why I say I don't like it. I want to +be doing something, and when I say that it's just what everyone feels as +it makes his blood hot. I say, boy, you don't feel cold now?" + +"Cold?" cried Marcus. "Oh, no; I only want to keep going on." + +"Wait a bit, boy, and you shall have enough of that. Our captain isn't +letting us rest just to amuse ourselves. It will be forward directly, +and quite soon enough for the horses, for it's hard work for them; and I +say," continued the old soldier, jocosely, "this is a bit of a change +for you, my boy. You never thought there was a place like this so near +to Rome, where the people are lying grumbling now because it is so hot +that they cannot sleep, and panting just like old Lupe there." + +For the dog was just between them, sitting up in the back of the car, +sometimes turning his head towards one, sometimes towards the other, +lolling out his vibrating tongue and sending out puffs of visible +vapour-like steam from Vesuvius. + +"He's making believe that he's been working very hard," said Marcus, +laughing, "when he's been riding all the time. But all this does seem +very strange, Serge. I couldn't have believed this was possible at the +end of summer." + +"Suppose not," growled the old soldier. "You see, you don't know +everything yet, my boy. There's a deal to learn, as I found out years +ago when I first went to the war with the master. But it's all doing +you good, and you will like it by-and-by when you look back and think of +it all, for there isn't much time to think just now. I say, have you +got your wind again?" + +"Oh, yes, I am ready, and the horses are beginning to leave off panting. +I shall be glad when we make a fresh start. I want to get to the top." + +"That's what we all want, boy--to get to the top of everything--but the +sooner we get to the end of this narrow crack and can expect that it +will begin to open out and give us room to swing our arms, the better we +shall all like it. The chief ought to be thinking of starting up +afresh, for there's a deal of fighting going on back and front." + +The sounds that came floating to their ears, echoed from the snowy +walls, made this all plain enough, while the shouting from the rear grew +nearer and nearer; and then it seemed that the rear-guard was coming +more rapidly on, just as the order to move forward came from the front +and passed along the line. + +With a couple of halts for rest the troops plodded on and the horses +struggled for another hour, and then, to the great delight of all, the +word came back from the front that the height of the pass had been +reached, that the head of the column was beginning to descend, and that +not far in front their comrades were holding the enemy in check. + +This intelligence was like an invigorating breath of air to the little +force. The men stepped out and dragged and pushed, and the cries of the +drivers had a cheering sound, as they called upon their horses in a tone +of voice which made the struggling beasts exert themselves more than +ever. + +It was still terribly hard work, but there was no upward drag; the great +strain was gone, for the descent was steep, and a great portion of the +weight the chariot horses had to draw seemed to have been taken off. + +The pass was still walled in by towering heights, but it was rapidly +opening out, and at the end of another hour the advance force, which had +contented themselves with holding one of the narrowest portions of the +way, had been strengthened, and pressed back the enemy. + +There was another halt of the chariots, to enable a portion of the +troops from the rear to close up and pass through to the front to join +the advance, a manoeuvre which the panting men, as they struggled over +the beaten snow, obeyed with alacrity, eager to get into action and +bring to an end the hours of suspense through which they had passed in +comparative inaction while listening to the echoes of the fighting going +on in front and rear. + +"There, boy," said Serge, cheerfully, as they found time now to talk as +well as rest; "this don't look like being beaten, does it?" + +"I don't know," said Marcus, dubiously. "We seem as much shut up as +ever." + +"Nay, not us! Why, the walls are ever so much farther back, and we have +got more room to breathe." + +"But it's horribly dark still," said Marcus, rather wearily, "and the +snow seems as deep." + +"Not it," cried Serge. "And see how it's trampled down. Then it isn't +so cold." + +"Not so cold!" cried Marcus. "Why, it's terrible!" + +"Not it! Why, since we have been coming down a bit we have got more +into shelter, and that cutting wind that came up the pass isn't +whistling about one's ears." + +"Well, no," said Marcus. "That is better." + +"Better, yes; and so's everything else. It won't be long now before the +pass widens ever so much, and we shall begin to leave the snow behind; +and then as soon as we get on to level ground the captain will get his +horse to work to drive the barbarians back towards the plains below, and +then--you'll see that our turn will come." + +"To fight, Serge?" + +"Yes, boy. He'll be letting loose his chariots then, and when he does, +the fighting will be over for to-day." + +"For to-day!" said Marcus, with a faint laugh. + +"Well, yes, it must be getting towards morning, and before many hours we +shall be seeing the sun again, and if we are lucky have made a jump out +of winter into spring. But there, keep up your spirits, boy. I can see +a good breakfast ahead, and a long sleep in the sunshine waiting for us +down below when we have cleared these flies out of our path. They are a +worry now, but you'll see before long." + +Marcus was destined to see more than his old companion anticipated +during the next few hours, and events began to crowd rapidly one upon +another's heels. + +Their advance was no sooner strengthened by the foot-men who had been so +long inactive while crossing the pass, than changes began to occur, +foremost among which was the progress forward, the little force now +pressing steadily on downward. + +It was wintry and dark and the fighting was still going on with the +enemy, who were slowly giving way, while to balance this the attack on +the rear was still kept up. But the pass was opening more and more, and +during the next few hours the progress of the little force had been slow +but steady, the first rays of the sun shining upon the jaded men and +horses halted in a sterile amphitheatre surrounded by rocks which +afforded a fair amount of protection, Nature having formed the hollow +with but one entrance and one exit, her instrument for carving out the +depression having probably been a huge river of ice descending from the +heights behind towards the plains below, of which glimpses now began to +appear. + +Rest was imperative, and evidently feeling that his position was far +from safe, their leader had set a portion of his men to strengthen the +opening front and rear by means of the ample supply of scattered rocks, +many of which only needed a few well-directed thrusts to partly block up +the rugged track and form an adequate defence. + +This done and his foot-men disposed to the best advantage for the +protection of the still crippled mounted force, it was expected by all +that a few hours' rest might be obtained. + +The position was bad, and their leader had intended to have pressed on +downward to the plains; but the enemy in the rear had advanced so +swiftly, their allies given way so stubbornly, that he was forced to +seize upon the hollow which offered itself as being a natural +stronghold, here to breathe his men and recruit for a few hours before +making a final dash. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. + +THE CHIEF. + +Marcus woke up that same evening to find himself lying back in the +chariot with Lupe sitting watching him intently. + +"Hallo, Lupe," said the boy, thickly; "what's the matter?" + +The dog's answer was given with his tail--just one sharp rap on the +floor of the vehicle, nothing more. So Marcus looked round him, feeling +confused, and wondering what it all meant, for after so much exertion +and excitement his brain had taken a thorough rest from which the boy's +body was now awakened, but not his thinking powers. + +"I don't quite understand it," he said to himself, as he caught sight of +clusters of armed men, whose spears glittered in the evening sunshine, +gathered together upon the mountain slopes around, and he soon satisfied +himself that they were not Romans or any of the mercenaries whose +appearance he knew. + +It was easy to see, for nearer to him were his own people, one here and +there perched upon some eminence, evidently on the look-out, and by +running his eye along the edge of the rough amphitheatre he could trace +nearly all the sentries, and at the same time note that beyond them in +every ravine running downward there were hundreds of those who he at +once concluded were the enemy. + +"There are a great many of them," said Marcus to himself coolly, for he +was not yet fully awake to his position, "and they seem to be very near; +but our men appear to be ready for them, and the cavalry are standing +with their horses waiting, I suppose, for orders, while--yes, the +chariots! The horses are harnessed in. Are mine? Yes, and the driver +ready." + +Marcus had raised himself to look over the front of his chariot--a +movement which excited the dog, who began to whine, and then watched his +master eagerly as if to see what he would do next. + +"It looks as if we are going to make a fresh start," thought Marcus; +"and a good thing too, for it is chilly and cheerless; but we can't get +away from here without fighting." + +This last thought came with a look of excitement, for the boy's brain +was growing clearer and he was rapidly grasping the fact that they were +surrounded by a vast number of the enemy. + +"What has become of Serge?" he said, half aloud. + +The old soldier came into sight almost as he asked the question, +carrying a vessel of water in one hand and something that looked like a +cake of bread in the other. + +"Awake, boy?" he said, as he came out. "I thought you'd be hungry when +you did open your eyes, and so I managed to get this, but I've nigh had +it snatched away three times as I came back, for our fellows are getting +savage for want of food. Not that it matters much, for they'll fight +all the better to get down to the plains and plunder." + +"Then we're going to fight, Serge?" cried Marcus, eagerly. + +"Not much doubt about that, boy." + +"And start downward for the plains?" + +"Ah, there's a deal of doubt about that, my lad. I dare say the chief +would like to, but we're regularly shut up in this rocky hole." + +"But he ought not to have let the enemy shut us up, ought he?" + +"It was a case of can't help it, my boy," growled Serge. "From the time +we halted this morning the barbarians have been gathering round and +streaming down from the mountains, till there they are, thousands upon +thousands of them, hanging on the hills and running down the hollows +till they look like human rivers. We were obliged to have a rest and +refresh, for a man can't go on fighting and marching for ever, even if +he be a Roman; and ever since we've been resting the enemy has been +collecting, till they are like you see. Well, why don't you look +round?" + +"I did," cried Marcus, "and saw all this before you came. Then we're in +a sore strait, Serge?" + +"Yes, a very sore one, boy; but eat your bread." + +"Not now," said Marcus, quickly. "Let me have a drink of water." + +He took hold of the vessel and had a long, deep draught, one which +seemed to clear away the last mental cobweb from his brain. + +"Now eat a bit," said Serge, offering the cake; but the boy shook his +head and swept the surroundings with anxious eyes. + +"Very well," said the old soldier. "You'll be hungry by-and-by." And +slipping the cake into his wallet, he looked sternly at the boy, who +turned to him directly. + +"Then you think that we shall not be able to cut our way out, Serge?" he +said. + +"Sure of it, boy. They're too many for us." + +"Then what is to be done?" + +"What the chief likes, boy; but if I were he I should stand fast and let +the enemy hammer at us till he grows tired of losing men." + +"Then you think we can beat them off?" + +"Yes, boy, for a time; but we've got no stores to speak of, and even +Romans can't, as I said before, or something like it, go on fighting for +ever. But we shall do our best." + +"Yes," said Marcus, with a sigh, as he looked thoughtfully round, +unconsciously playing with the dog's ears the while, to that animal's +great satisfaction. "But I don't like it, Serge." + +"You don't? Well, you're a queer sort of a boy, then," growled the old +soldier. "I never met a boy before who said that he didn't like +fighting." + +"I did not say so," cried Marcus, sharply. "I was talking about our +position here." + +"Oh, I see!" growled Serge. "What about it? Strong enough for +anything." + +"Perhaps so, but here we are shut in amongst all these rocks, with no +room for the horsemen or the chariots to be of any use. How could we +gallop along here, or how could the cavalry attack?" + +Serge took off his great helmet, wiped his brow with the back of his +hand, and stared hard at his young companion for some moments, till the +boy noticed the heavy, fierce look, and coloured. + +"Why do you look at me like that?" he asked. + +"Cause you make me, boy?" + +"How? What do you mean?" + +"Who taught you to talk like that, boy? Anyone would think you were a +young general." + +"Nonsense, Serge!" cried Marcus, with the tint upon his face growing +deeper. "I spoke like that because you taught me and made me understand +about the uses and movements of horse and foot. I'm sorry I was not +right, but you need not laugh at me." + +"What, boy?" cried the old soldier, warmly. "Laugh at you! Why, if I +grinned it was because I was pleased and proud to see what a clever +fellow you are growing up to be. Why, a well-trained old soldier could +not have spoken better. You're as right as right, and it is unfortunate +that our chief should be surrounded here in a place where he can't use +the best part of his troops. But there, we won't argue about it. +'Tarn't a common soldier's duty to talk over what his general does. +What he, a fighting man, has to do is to fight and do in all things what +he is told. Do you see?" + +"Yes, Serge, I see, but--" + +Marcus ended by making a sign intended to mean, Hold your tongue. + +But Serge did not interpret it rightly. + +"Yes, I see what you mean, and it's of no use to say `but' to me. Our +chief is a thoroughly good commander of men, and if he has got us into +this hole of a place, where we are all shut up tightly without a chance +to get out, why it's--" + +Serge stopped short, to draw himself up tightly, for all at once he +understood the true meaning of Marcus' sign, having suddenly become +aware of the fact that their captain had in going from post to post +stopped close to his elbow, and had heard nearly every word that had +been spoken, while it was evident that he was thinking of something else +at the same time, for he finished the old soldier's sentence for him in +the way he interpreted it. + +"Why, it is his duty to get us out of it, eh, my man? That is what you +were going to say, is it not?" + +"Well, something like it, captain," faltered the veteran; "but I didn't +mean no harm." + +"Of course you did not, but you were teaching this boy to criticise his +superiors. Well, my man, you as an old soldier can see that we are in a +very dangerous position." + +"Yes, captain." + +"And that if I try to cut my way out with the force I have at my command +I may succeed." + +"You will succeed, captain." + +"Well, yes, I believe I should," said the captain, quickly; "but it +would only be with the loss of a great number of men that could not be +spared, and my division would afterwards be of little value to the main +force." + +"Yes, captain; that's right," growled Serge. + +"Spoken like a good old fighting man," said the chief. "Now, then, +speaking with your experience, what is best for me to do?" + +"Set the men to build up rough walls with the stones, twice as strong as +you have already." + +"Good! Go on," cried the chief, while Marcus stood listening with his +lips apart, and quivering with excitement the while. + +"Then sit fast and wait." + +"Without supplies?" + +"Plenty of water from the spring yonder," growled Serge. + +"Food?" said the chief, sharply. + +"Foraging parties," continued Serge. + +"Not to be depended upon in this high desert, man." + +"Capture the enemy's provisions," said Serge. + +"Doubtful, my man," cried the captain. "Can you propose nothing else?" + +"Send off messenger at once on to the generals in front, telling how you +are fixed, and asking for help at once." + +"Hah!" cried the captain. "That is what I was waiting for you to say. +Now for the messenger I must send to Julius and Cracis." + +"Someone who knows the country." + +"There is no one," said the captain, sharply. "Whoever goes must find +his way by the traces left by the generals." + +"Yes, that's right, captain," said Serge. + +"Well, man, whom am I to send?" + +"Me!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "I'll find my father and take your +message." + +"You shall, boy," said the captain, catching Marcus by the arm. "It is +what I planned, for I am going to send to Cracis, who will be directing +the forces and the arrangements of the campaign, while Caius Julius +leads the men. You, boy, have one of the best chariots and the swiftest +horses in the force. There is no need for me to write if you tell your +father that you come from me. Tell him everything you know, and that I +am going to hold out to the last, even if I have to butcher the horses +that the men may live. Tell him I am in a perilous strait, and that +help must come to save me and give the enemy a lesson that they will not +forget." + +"Yes--yes," cried Marcus; "and I start at once?" + +"Not yet, only be quite ready to dash off yonder by the lower track +which you can see leading downward through those hills. I say dash off, +but only if the enemy make for you. If you are not followed hasten +slowly for your horses' sake. Remember that he who goes softly goes +far, and I want sureness more than speed." + +"But he can't get out yonder, captain," growled Serge, fiercely. "You +are going to kill the boy." + +"Well," said the captain, with a peculiar smile, "could I honour the son +of great Cracis more than by letting him die for the sake of his +country?" + +"That's all very grand in sound, captain," cried Serge, grasping Marcus' +other arm, "but he's my boy as much as his father's, and I won't stand +by and see him go alone to sudden death." + +"Serge!" cried Marcus, fiercely. "How dare you! Captain, don't heed +him; I am ready to go the moment you say the word, and--and--" + +"Well, boy?" + +"If I am killed," continued Marcus, struggling hard with his emotion, +"and you ever see my father again, tell him, sir, that I went to my +death doing my duty, as he taught me, and praying that he will forgive +me for disobeying his commands." + +"I will, boy," cried the chief, warmly; "but it shall not come to that, +for you will reach your father, I feel sure, and bring me the help I +need." + +"He can't, captain, I tell you," cried Serge, fiercely. "Yes, you may +punish me, a common soldier, for speaking as I do, but I tell you once +again that I will not stand by and see my dear old master's son +butchered, for it's nothing else. A boy like him, brave as he is, ought +not to be sent, even if it is for his country's sake, when there are +plenty of stout, strong men who could do the work as well or better, +because they are hard and tough." + +"Be silent, Serge," cried Marcus, passionately. "Don't punish him, +captain; he means well, but he is half mad to speak to you like that." + +"You need not appeal, my boy," said the captain, smiling. "I should +punish no man for being brave and true to those he has served." + +"But I tell you, captain," raged out Serge, "that it would be like +murder to send the boy like that." + +"Silence, old madman," cried the captain. "Why, I should be as mad as +you even to think of doing such a thing. Listen, boy; be ready, and +when the rest of the chariots are moved off towards the upper part of +the track along with the rest of the force, you will keep back amongst +the rocks. I shall lead the men myself and make a feigned attack as if +I were going to retreat back by the way we came; and in the excitement +and confusion, when the enemy yonder have drawn off to go to their +companions' assistance and take me in the rear, you will watch your +chance and escape." + +"Yes, I see," cried Marcus, excitedly; and the captain went on: + +"The chances are that if you are noticed no one will try to stop you. +It will be thought that you are deserting and seeking your safety in +flight." + +"Yes, yes," cried Marcus; "and now I shall be sure to succeed." + +"Yes, captain, that's better," growled Serge, in his deepest tones. "I +like that." + +"Then take good heed to his safety, man," cried the captain, warmly, +"and die for him if there is need, for I would rather lose a hundred men +such as you than one like him." + +"But--but--" stammered Serge, "you don't mean--" + +"I don't mean!" cried the captain. "Why, the boy is right: you are an +old madman to think that I would send that brave boy alone when he has +such a faithful old follower as you at his side. No, no; go with him, +and bring him back safely to me, along with the help I ask, or never see +my face again." + +Before he had finished, rough old Serge, with the big tears standing in +his eyes, was down upon one knee catching at the leader's hand and +carrying it to his lips. + +"There, there, there," cried the captain, "time is precious. No more of +this. Boy, you have the safety of this force in your hands. Old +veteran, I give you charge as bodyguard of this, my young despatch +bearer. I do not tell you to do your duty, both of you; I only say, +remember Rome. Farewell." + +The captain turned quickly away to join a knot of his chiefs who were +anxiously awaiting his return, and the next minute, fixed in their +positions, neither feeling as if he had the power to stir, Marcus and +Serge were alone. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. + +THE FIGHT BEGUN. + +Marcus was the first to break the silence. + +"Serge," he panted, "isn't he grand!" + +"Grand!" cried the old soldier, excitedly. "Grand arn't half big +enough. He's a hero, that's what he is; and only think of me with a +head like the old bull at home. Just as thick and stupid. Why, if he +hadn't been such a great, wise, clever general as he is, he'd have +knocked me down with the hilt of his sword. But it's all right after +all, and look here, boy, you've got to do it." + +"We've got to do it, Serge," cried Marcus. "Why, the idea is splendid; +but I say--Lupe?" + +"What about him?" + +"What are we to do with him?" + +"Nothing," said Serge, promptly; "he'll do for himself. Why, if you +made up your mind to leave him behind he'd come." + +"I suppose so, Serge. There's no press-house here in which to shut him +up." + +"No, and there's no other way of getting rid of him but cutting off his +head," said the old soldier, grimly; "and you wouldn't like to do that." + +"Serge!" cried Marcus, taking for the moment his companion's words as +being meant seriously. + +"Ah, I thought you wouldn't, boy," said the old fellow, smiling. "He'll +hop into the chariot, of course, and when the way's clear we can let him +down for a run, and do him good. But no more talking; we've got to get +ready." + +"No," said Marcus; "we're soldiers, and all ready now. I can see +nothing to do but wait till we see that it is time to go." + +"And that isn't far away," said Serge, "for here comes back one of the +captains. Why, Marcus, boy, I feel happy enough to begin to dance. +Just think of it: here we are off on quite a holiday, straight away for +the Roman camp, to get to your father at once, and--Oh, my thick head! +I never thought of that!" + +"Thought of what?" said Marcus. + +"What we're going to do: both of us going straight to face the lion and +put our heads into his mouth." + +"You mean my father?" + +"Of course." + +"Nonsense! He will have no time to think of punishing us." + +"Won't he?" growled Serge. "Trust the master for ever forgetting +anything. We shall have it, and sharply too, after him and Julius have +come and done what they've got to do in the way they know how." + +"Pst! Don't talk," whispered Marcus. "Look, this officer is giving his +orders to the leaders of the chariots, and here he comes to us." + +The boy was right, for a few minutes later the officer came quickly to +him, and his words were very short. + +"You have your orders from the chief, young man?" he said. "Stand fast +there among these rocks till the line of chariots has moved off, and +then go down to the lower camp where the foot soldiers are as soon as +they have changed their station." + +He turned away directly, and as their driver sprang up, quite on the +alert as he saw that something was on the way, Marcus went to one pony, +Serge to the other, to see that every portion of the harness was in +proper trim; and Lupe leaped out of the chariot and then back to the +front, to raise himself upon his hind legs and plant his paws on the +front as if he were in command and issuing his orders, which took the +form of a deep bay. + +Directly after a sub-officer, who was in command of the line, gave an +order, each chariot was manned, and following one another in file they +began rattling and bumping in and out amongst the rocks and hollows, +slowly and noisily in the direction of the highest point of the pass +from which the way had been fought so short a time before. + +"Look yonder, Serge," cried Marcus, as he gazed beyond the outposts in +the direction of the hills that were dotted with the enemy. + +"Was looking, boy," growled the old soldier, "It's running all round us +wherever the enemy can see. Why, it's like putting a stick into a +wasp's nest and giving it a stir round." + +"Yes, look, look, look!" cried Marcus. "What an excitement! Does it +mean that they are going to attack at once? Because if they are we +shan't get off." + +"Nay, they are only getting ready. You'll see them settle down again +directly to watch our men and make sure what we are going to do." + +The chariots moved on, one following the other till the rough line was +all in motion, only one standing fast, and that one calling for the help +of both Marcus and Serge, who at a word from the driver ran to the heads +of the ponies to assist in controlling them. For as the last chariot +started off they made a desperate plunge forward to follow, so taking +the driver by surprise that the pair went on a few yards before they +were stopped by Marcus and Serge hanging on to their bits and backing +them to the place from which they had started. + +"Don't like being left behind," growled Serge. + +"Steady, boy, steady!" said Marcus, caressingly, as he patted the +arching neck and smoothed down the wild, thick mane of the fiery little +steed he held. "Wait a bit and we won't check you. You shall go, and +as fast as you like, if we can only get clear ground." + +The swarthy little driver grasped the boy's words, and nodded and showed +his teeth, while in a few minutes the spirited animals were quieted down +where they stood now with their heads turned from the slowly advancing +line. + +"He ought to have been on the look-out," growled Serge. "Hullo! How +the chief must have been arranging all this!" And then he stood +silently with his young companion, watching the changes that were +beginning to take place in their little force. + +The spot on which they stood was sufficiently elevated to give the pair +of spectators a pretty good view of the little beleaguered camp. All at +once the line of chariots was halted, while a fresh agitation commenced +where the cavalry had been posted. There was a quick change where +horses and men were massed together, and the light played and flashed +from helmet and shield, while the men's spears glittered like so many +points of light, as they sprang on to the backs of their horses and soon +after were in motion, forming into another line which moved to the front +of the chariots and were stopped in due time a little in advance. + +"Why, he's making quite a show of it," growled Serge, "and the little +army looks as if it were slowly going into action just for us to see." + +"Yes," said Marcus, eagerly, "but look out yonder too. The enemy are +advancing. They are gradually coming down that deep little valley, +trickling like a stream." + +"To be sure they are," said Serge, "and they are doing the same over +yonder too." + +"Well, doesn't that mean that they are going to attack at once?" + +"No, boy; I fancy it only means to close us in and sweep us before them +right up into the narrow of the pass again. They are beginning to take +it." + +"Take what?" + +"Take what? Why, what our general means. I am not going to call him a +captain any more. He's acting like a general, and a good one too. The +enemy don't mean to attack--not yet, because you see they have got no +head man to make a big plan for them all to work together. You see, +they are all little bodies and tribes and bits of tribes, each under its +own leader, and everyone thinks himself a general and acts just as he +likes, and that's where they often get in a muddle, good fighters as +they are. Look at them now. There's another lot yonder going slowly +down from that hill into the hollow and coming creeping towards us." + +"Yes, and right away from that opposite hill there's another tribe +coming down," cried Marcus, whose voice was husky with excitement. + +"That's right," growled Serge, "and don't you see, not one lot has moved +towards the upper pass. Why have they left that way open?" + +"I don't know," said Marcus. "Perhaps some of the enemy will move +towards it soon." + +"Not they," growled Serge, with a deep, low chuckle. "Our general's +laid a trap for them, and they are walking in. They know that we must +be running short of provisions, and they think that we are going to +retreat. It looks like it, don't it? There goes an advance guard of +the foot, marching to the front of the horse. Well done, brave boys! +There are some fine men amongst them to step together like that! Yes, +there they go, about a third of them straight for the upper pass, and +the whole of our little army will soon be under weigh as if in full +retreat." + +"And then the enemy will attack," cried Marcus. + +"Perhaps not yet. They know what it's like up yonder amongst the snows, +and they think that, tired and half starved, our poor fellows will be +marching to their death, leaving their enemies very little work to do +beside cutting down the stragglers. Ah, depend upon it, all these +little petty generals think they have a great victory within their hands +without any cost to themselves, and that none of our poor fellows will +get across the pass alive." + +"Oh, don't talk, Serge," cried Marcus, excitedly. "Look at the enemy! +There's more and more of them getting into motion. They are beginning +to come from all round." + +"Yes, as I said before, like a nest of stingers stirred up with a stick; +but we are getting all in motion too," continued Serge. "Every captain +has had his orders, and he's beginning to head his men as it comes to +his turn. Look how the infantry are tramping along to lead the way! +Now the horse are getting ready to start! Take it coolly, my lads. You +ought to be leading those horses over that stony ground; but I suppose +the general wants to make a show and let it seem as if we were in full +retreat." + +"Will the chariots go next?" asked Marcus. + +"Yes, boy, of course, with the baggage behind them, and all the strength +of the infantry to form the rear-guard. You can see that for yourself, +for the foot-men haven't moved." + +"No," said Marcus, "but the enemy are moving more and more into two +great parties, advancing so as to meet where the pass begins to narrow. +Why, Serge, if they get there first they'll cut our retreating line in +two." + +"They would," said the old soldier, with a chuckle, "if they could, but +our general will be too smart for that. He's got it all carefully +planned out, and when those two great streams of men come together out +yonder they will be well in the rear. But now look at them. You can +see right round the camp from here. What are the enemy doing? Trying +to surround us?" + +"No," said Marcus, after a long inspection; "they are all gradually +turning in the same direction and getting into motion, as if to drive us +back into the pass." + +"Yes, and it looks pretty and bright up yonder with the sun shining on +the snow. To see it from here, boy, no one would think it meant bitter +winds and a cold that cuts through you and turns men drowsy so that they +want to lie down and die." + +"No," said Marcus, with a slight shudder. "Ah!" he added, excitedly. +"Our big rear-guard is beginning to stir, and the enemy are still moving +on. Why, in a short time the lower part of the camp will have none of +them beyond it." + +"That's right," cried Serge, as he shaded his eyes and gazed long and +fixedly towards the lower part of the amphitheatre far beyond which, +looking green and beautiful, stretched away the sunny plains of Gaul; +"and that means, boy, that things will be just as our general intended +that they should, clear of the enemy and ready for us to creep +cautiously down like a pack of deserters trying to save our skins." + +"Yes, but I want to be moving," cried Marcus, who was ready to stamp +with impatience. "I want to be leading the horses down through this +wilderness of rocks so as to get away to the open land, where we can +send them off at a gallop with the wind whistling about their ears. I +want to see their manes and tails flying, Serge, and feel the chariot +rock as the wheels spin round and bump over the hillocks and stones. +Then on and on as fast as we can go, straight for the main army, to tear +up to the guards with my message and bring them back. Oh, how slowly +they move! Why doesn't the chief hurry the men, and why doesn't the +enemy follow them at a rush? I want to be stirring; I want to go." + +"Well done, young hurry-me-up!" chuckled Serge. "That's all very +pretty. You want this and you want that, and you want to be racing the +ponies along and making the chariot rock and the wheels spin round, till +bump, crash, one of the wheels flies off or drops to pieces, over goes +the car, sending you yesterday and me to-morrow, and the driving boy +with his head knocked off, while the poor ponies stand staring and +broken-winded, and no message taken to the master." + +"What are you talking about, Serge?" cried Marcus, angrily. + +"You, boy, and what you want to do," growled the old man. "That's not +the way to carry a despatch, and if we are going to get where we want, +it will have to be slow and sure. It will be all very well going to the +heads of the ponies as soon as the way's clear and leading them in and +out amongst the rocks, so that if any of the enemy sees us he'll think +we are sneaking away; but when that's done and we are clear of the +enemy, what then?" + +"Why, we must gallop off," cried Marcus, excitedly. "This is not a time +for your slow and sure." + +"Oh, arn't it?" grumbled Serge. "Then you want to gallop right away at +once, do you?" + +"Of course." + +"Which way? What way? And how?" + +"What are you talking about?" cried Marcus. + +"You know, and yet you don't know. Where's our army? Haven't we got to +find the track they left?" + +"Of course." + +"Yes, of course, boy, but where's the beginning of it?" growled Serge, +as he made a comprehensive motion, sweeping round one hand. "There will +be no one to ask, for the country will be cleared--all the fighting men +gone to the wars, all the women and children and old folk hiding among +the mountains. Our army will have made a clean sweep of everything, and +we have got to eat. It all sounds very nice, my boy, but to go off at a +gallop such as you speak of means riding to nowhere, and the army never +found." + +"Oh, Serge, don't talk like that." + +"Must, boy. We will gallop when we can, but lots of the time we shall +pretty well have to crawl." + +"Oh!" groaned Marcus, as he felt the truth of the old soldier's words. + +"There, don't make a noise like that, but look round here and see what's +going on. It's a sight, boy, such as you may never see again." + +"I can't stand and look at sights," cried the boy, angrily. + +"But you must. It's part of the work you have on hand. You must watch +for the time that is best for our start. You can't say anything to +that." + +"No," sighed Marcus, "that's right; but see what a time we have been +waiting now. It must be hours since the general came and gave me his +command." + +"Well, not hours, but it's a long time, boy, and it will be longer yet +before we shall dare to stir. Why, there are thousands of men below +there, and hundreds more coming into sight just along the part we shall +have to go, and we must wait till they have all marched off right and +left to join the rest before we shall dare to start." + +"But you are making the worst of it, Serge," cried Marcus, eagerly, as +he glanced round from his post of observation at the magnificent sight +of men in motion, glittering arms, trampling horse, and all framed in by +the sterile rocks, the snow-capped hills, and the dazzling blue sky +above. + +"Perhaps I am, boy, and all the better for us; but it's much the best to +look troubles straight in the face and not to come to grief from being +too hopeful." + +And as to time, so it proved, for after about another two hours had +elapsed, with the boy bubbling over with impatience, they were able to +feel that they might venture downward through the lower part of the +amphitheatre, where they would be getting more into the shelter of rock +and valley, and beyond the ken of the two trampling multitudes urging +their way on after the little army now in full motion higher up the +pass, the leading foot showing still clearly and nearly as distinctly as +if close at hand, though quite a couple of miles from where the chariot +stood. + +"Ah," cried Serge, at last, "now I think we will start." + +"Yes, come on," cried Marcus. "But why did you say that?" he added, +hastily. + +"Because the fight's begun, boy." + +"Where? How?" cried Marcus. + +"Look yonder towards that patch of grey rock which glitters in the sun. +That's where our stout rear-guard is. If you look hard you will be just +able to see something moving slowly and something like a dark cloud just +behind. That's the enemy's, front just coming into action, driving our +men on. Hark! Do you hear how the hum of the enemy's troops' sounds +changed?" + +"Yes, I think so. It comes echoing along the rocks." + +"Well, that's the barbarians cheering the others on." + +"Oh," cried Marcus, "the attack begun, when we haven't even stirred to +fetch the help! Serge, shall we reach the army to-night?" + +"Nay, nor to-morrow night either, boy." + +"And the fight begun!" cried Marcus. "Why, before we can get to my +father and Caius Julius our little force will be destroyed." + +"Bah! Don't you get setting up for a prophet like that. Do you think +our men are going to sit down and let themselves be swallowed up without +striking a blow? What are you thinking of, boy? Isn't our general +marching his men into the narrow gorge again where he will be safely +walled in, with only a little front to defend? You let him alone. He +will stop and turn as soon as he has found a spot he likes, one that he +can easily hold; and there he'll be with his rear open for men to go +over the pass and forage for food. He knows what he's about, and we +know what we have got to do." + +"Yes," said Marcus, with a sigh; "we know, but--" + +"But you needn't watch the going on of the fight, boy, for at this +distance it's nearly all guess work and little see, and here as far as I +can make out no one can notice us if we begin to move, so now's the time +to start." + +"Ah!" cried Marcus, triumphantly, as he turned to the horse's head on +his side. + +Serge made for the other, and the great dog reared himself up with his +paws upon the front of the chariot and his jaws parted, to send forth +one of his deep, barking volleys. + +But at a cry from Marcus he sank down as if abashed, and the only sounds +that were heard above the deep, low hum of the trampling army of +barbarians, were the soft rattling of the chariot wheels, and the beat +of the horses' hoofs upon the stony ground, as they began cautiously to +make for the end of the amphitheatre and its labyrinth of rocks. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. + +FIRST CHECK. + +It was a glorious change from the terrible inactivity of waiting to +energetic action, and the feeling was shared by all. + +Lupe leaped out of the chariot, the driver involuntarily shook the reins +to urge the ponies forward forgetful of the fact that they were held on +either side, and the beautiful little animals tried to plunge onward, +but feeling the check upon their bits, snorted and began to rear while +both Marcus and Serge had to make a struggle to control the desire +within their breasts which urged them to break forward into a run. + +But the knowledge of the need of caution prevailed, and glancing to +right and left in search of watching enemies, they had the satisfaction +of seeing the chaos of rocks rising above their heads and quite +concealing them, though on the other hand their progress became more +painful, their way more burdened with stones. + +But it was glorious work to Marcus. These masses of rock were only +difficulties in the way waiting to be mastered. It was quite refreshing +to leave the leading of the horses to the driver and add their strength +in pulling, pushing, and now and then seizing the spokes to hoist a +wheel over some stony bar. + +Their progress was slow towards the far end of the amphitheatre, but +every score of yards was something gained, and all worked eagerly till +at last the lower end of the amphitheatre was reached, where the rocks +closed in again and a small ravine was before them, whose bottom was the +bed of a mountain torrent along which a shallow stream hurried, hardly +above the soles of the adventurers' sandals, though the smooth rocks of +the bed and sides showed plainly enough that there were times when a +furious flood dashed along, laden with smaller stones and gravel, whose +effects were to polish the bigger rocks in their way. + +"Better not talk," growled Serge, as they began to make quicker +progress. "I don't suppose anyone is here; they'll all have gone to the +front; but you never know, and every bad word is picked up by the rocks +and sent flying far away till it drops plump into somebody's ear. +Steady's the word, boy. Keep your little chap still. I don't suppose +this bit of a streamlet keeps like this. I expect the narrow bed opens +out soon, for the hills seem to grow smaller and smaller here, and I am +hoping that we shall come upon level ground so that we may get a gallop +to stretch the ponies' legs." + +"Ah, I hope so," cried Marcus, eagerly. "Now you are beginning to talk, +Serge, like a man." + +"And that means, boy, that I was talking a bit ago like some old woman, +I suppose. Well, part of a soldier's duty is to take care. Steady you, +sir, and don't splash the water up like that," the old soldier continued +softly to the pony whose head he held. "It's all very nice for you, and +I dare say the water feels nice and pleasant to your hoofs; but keep +quiet. You don't have to polish the rust off your armour--I do. I wish +to goodness we could get on good dry ground." + +Like the rest of mountain torrents, the one whose bed they were +following zig-zagged in all directions, so that even from their old +point of vantage they had been able to see but a very little way along, +and were quite content with the knowledge that the rocks rose up some +fifteen or twenty feet above their heads, amply sufficient to shelter +them from the sight of the enemy who lay away on either side, while now +as they journeyed along the rocky bed, with the rattle of the wheels +multiplied by the echoes, nothing was visible a hundred yards ahead, and +as fast as one angle was turned there lay another a short distance in +front. + +But they were descending towards the plains; the plashing stream as it +hurried along taught them that, and at the end of about a quarter of a +mile of little interrupted progress they were cheered on by the fact +that the rocks on either side grew lower, rapidly ceasing to afford them +protection, and before long hardly rising to their shoulders. + +There was another turn, and then another, and then Marcus cried eagerly: + +"The hills are seeming to get farther away, Serge, and we must soon be +out in the plain. I wonder what's beyond that turning." + +"Open ground, I should say, my lad," said the old soldier, gravely; "but +we must take care. We want the open ground for the horses, but not for +ourselves." + +"I don't understand you," cried Marcus, sharply. + +"I spoke plainly enough, boy. I meant this: no shelter for us, don't +you see, and if the enemy look back some of them may turn and come in +pursuit." + +"Ah, of course," cried Marcus. "Well, if they do, and catch us, you +will have to fight, Serge, and drive them back." + +"That's right, my boy, and I'll do my best: but if I do, and get the +worst of it, you never mind but go right on." + +"Yes," said Marcus, drily, "when you are ready to come too." + +Serge grunted with satisfaction, and then, possibly from the solemnity +of the desolate place along which they travelled, they tramped silently +along over the rocky bed, their footsteps and those of the horses being +the only sounds as they neared the sharp angle where the stream bed +seemed to open out. + +Marcus said afterwards that Serge should have been more cautious, and +Serge retorted that Marcus was captain and ought to have sent on a scout +in front. But as it was, the scout who acted, sent on himself, and that +scout was Lupe, who, attracted by the openness of the rocks in front, +suddenly bounded forward with a cheery bark, sending the water flying, +and exciting the ponies into starting forward at a canter. + +Almost involuntarily the holders of their reins let go and, acting as if +on one impulse, caught at the sides of the chariot and sprang in, +steadying themselves in their position as the heavy vehicle dashed on +along the shallow bed, which was now wonderfully free of stones, while +the driver participating in the dog's excitement, uttered a low cry and +shook his reins, so that a minute later the chariot swung round the +angle into where the ravine suddenly came to an end and a low level +valley opened out. Right at the edge of the stream, and not far in +front, a cluster of rough camp shelters seemed to spring up before them, +and from out of the huts where they had been sheltering from the sun, a +body of about two score spear-armed men suddenly appeared. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. + +A NARROW ESCAPE. + +To have the horses turned, and gallop back along the narrow river bed +for their lives, was Marcus' first thought. His second, braver and +better, was to shout to the driver at his elbow to urge the horses on at +their greatest speed. + +The man hardly needed telling, for as the first words of command were +buzzing in his ear he was shaking the reins and calling upon the brave +little beasts to exert themselves to the utmost. + +"Forward, my beauties," he yelled, "or the barbarians will have you, and +before to-morrow you will be roasted and eaten. Gallop--gallop away!" + +There was no time for Serge to talk, but he acted, and acted well. +Picking up instantly two of the spears which hung at the chariot side in +loops, he thrust one into Marcus' hand, retained the other, and stood +ready to thrust. Marcus followed his example. Neither thought of using +their shields, but stood fierce and staring of aspect, watching the +party of men barring their way and shouting to them to stop. + +It seemed like the next moment that the enemy, who fully expected the +strangers in the chariot to surrender, found that to give up was the +last thought in their expected prisoners' breasts, and thereupon some +dropped their spears, others were in the act of turning to fly, when +with a dull, strange sound the chariot horses were upon them. Literally +upon them, for the gallant little beasts obeyed their natural instinct, +as they galloped and rose to leap the pale of human obstacles and spears +in front, but only to come down quite short, trampling and spurning down +the enemy, over whom the chariot rolled, bumping, leaping and splashing, +and directly after, untouched by the long spears held by the uninjured, +the driver turned the horses slightly, and their next bounds were upon +dry land, rough and rugged enough, but free from any great impediments. +Then away and away as hard as they could go, while the more active of +those who were not hurt, recovering themselves a little from the shock +and scare, came after the charioteers in chase with levelled spears. + +"Splendid, Marcus, boy!" cried Serge. "Bah! You need not look back; +they'll give up running directly. You did not think they would catch us +up?" + +"No," replied Marcus, breathing hard, "but stop! Stop! Lupe is +fighting with them, and they'll spear him if we don't go to his help." + +"Eh? Go back, boy? To certain death!" cried the old soldier, fiercely. +"It couldn't be done if it was to save the finest dog in the world." + +"Oh, Serge!" cried Marcus, wildly. + +"The message to Julius and your father, boy. We must not think of +either ourselves or the dog at a time like this." + +"You are right, Serge," said Marcus, bitterly. "But poor old Lupe!" he +continued, as he held on to the side of the chariot with his left hand +and gazed back. "He'll kill no more wolves when they come down from the +mountains over the wintry snow." + +"Why not?" growled Serge. + +"Because the enemy are spearing him." + +"I haven't heard him yelp," cried the old soldier, "but I can hear +somebody shouting as if Lupe was spearing him." + +"Do you think so?" cried Marcus. + +"Ay, that I do, boy. It wouldn't be an easy job to stick a long-handled +spear into old Lupe when he is bounding about attacking legs, and +waiting his chance to tackle throats. Like as not we shall find him +coming after us, scratched and bleeding perhaps, but not hurt more than +I can doctor him and set him right again, same as I've done more than +once when he has had a turn with the wolves." + +"Ah, look, look!" shouted Marcus, joyously. "Why, here he comes!" + +For all at once Lupe, who had been lost to sight, hidden as he was by +those of the enemy who had not taken up the pursuit, and who had +resented the dog's attacks by endeavouring to pin him to the earth with +their long spears, now dashed into sight, proving that he was uninjured +by the bounds and springs he kept on making, barking furiously the while +at those who were keeping up their pursuit of the chariot, but whose +attention was now diverted so that they turned the points of their +spears to repulse the dog's attack. + +"Yah! Just like him!" cried Serge, angrily. "You ugly old idiot, you! +Whether it's men or wolves, you always would have the last bite. Come +away, stupid! Come here!" he roared again, quite oblivious of the fact +that even if the distance had not prevented the dog from hearing, the +noise of the horses' beating hoofs would have effectually drowned +Serge's voice. + +"Ought we not to stop and help him, Serge?" cried Marcus. + +"No, boy; you know we ought not. We've got to get on with that message, +and we must think of nothing else now we are clear. We must not even +slacken while the path is so good; so keep on. You wanted a big gallop, +so take it and be content, for the horses are going fast enough to +satisfy anyone." + +"Yes," sighed Marcus. "But poor old Lupe!" + +"He must take care of himself, boy," growled Serge. "Look at him, +charging at the enemy as he is, when he is doing no good and running the +risks for nothing." + +"He has stopped the pursuit," said Marcus. + +"Yes; but why can't he be content now he has done it, and come on, +instead of asking them as plainly as a dog can speak, to thrust a spear +through his ribs?" + +"But he knows no better," pleaded Marcus, who was watching all that was +going on, and feeling proud of the dog's bravery in charging the enemy +furiously from time to time, and escaping every thrust as if by a +miracle. "I don't want to lose time, Serge," cried Marcus, raising his +voice so that his companion could hear, "but I am going to check the +horses for a few moments so that I can shout to Lupe. If he hears my +voice calling him he will come." + +"He's coming without, boy," cried Serge, angrily. "Oh! Poor old +fellow! But it's his own fault. I knew he'd get it at last, and he +has. That thrust has been too much for him. Look!" + +Marcus was already looking sharply enough to have seen, at the same +moment as his companion, Lupe make a rush at the halting enemy, whose +spears flashed in the bright light; and then the dog rushed away again, +to stand apparently barking furiously at his enemies, before dashing off +after the chariot for about a hundred yards, and then stopping short to +roll over and over. + +"Killed!" cried Marcus, in a voice full of anguish. + +"No," said Serge, hoarsely; "he's up again and tearing after us." + +But the next minute the dog had dropped again, and as far as those in +the chariot could make out in the increasing distance, was busily +engaged in licking his flank, and Marcus said so. + +"Not sure," cried Serge, "but I'm afraid he has got an ugly dig. Is he +going to lie down and die?" + +"Surely not!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "No, he is up again, and here he +comes." + +"Then perhaps it is not so bad as I thought, boy. Yes, here he comes as +hard as he can pelt. He can't be very bad, unless this is his last +struggle to get to your side." + +"And yours, Serge," said Marcus, mournfully. + +"No, boy; it's you that he wants to reach," said the old soldier, with a +grim smile. "He likes me, but you need not talk--he loves you; and if +he's very badly hurt he is putting all the strength he has left in him +to get here to you." + +"Oh, Serge," cried Marcus, as the ponies tore on, with the dog in full +pursuit, "it can't be so bad as you think!" + +"Well, boy, I'm beginning to think you're right. He can't be so very +bad, or he wouldn't be able to stretch himself out like that and come +over the ground faster than the horses are going, and that isn't slow. +Look at the brave old fellow; that's just the stride he takes--" + +"Stride!" cried Marcus, proudly. "He's coming on in bounds." + +"So he is, boy, and as I was going to say, that's just his way when he +wants to overtake a pack of ravaging wolves who have been after our +sheep. Well done, dog! Talk about muscles in his legs! I don't call +them muscles; he has legs like springs." + +The chariot horses still tore on at a fast gallop, the sturdy little +driver guiding them with admirable skill as they neared obstructions; +but fast as they swept over the open ground, with the heavy chariot +leaping and bounding behind, their speed was far out-paced by the great +dog which stretched out like a greyhound of modern times, and lessened +the distance between them more and more, till he was so near that Marcus +uttered a cry of horror upon making out as he did that the dog's flank +was marked by a great patch of blood. + +"Yes," said Serge, gravely, "I see, boy, and I could find it in my heart +to stop the ponies and take him into the chariot; but there is no need +for it. Can't be a serious wound, and he'll be close up to us in +another minute." + +"To reach us exhausted," cried Marcus, bitterly; "and I shall always +feel that we might have saved his life." + +Serge made no reply, but, frowning heavily, he watched the final efforts +the gallant animal was making. For gathering himself together for every +spring and putting all his strength in his efforts, Lupe bounded on till +he was close behind the chariot, and Marcus uttered an encouraging shout +as he went down on one knee, while the next minute Lupe made a +tremendous spring, from which he landed in the middle of the +rapidly-going vehicle, and then couched down, bent his head over as he +let himself fall over on his left side, and began licking his wound as +calmly as if nothing had happened more than the receiving of a big +scratch. + +"Why, Lupe, Lupe, old dog!" cried Marcus, as he knelt beside the wounded +animal hard at work over his natural surgery. + +Upon hearing the boy's voice the dog ceased his task, looked up in +Marcus' face with his big intelligent eyes, beat the floor of the +chariot a few times heavily with his tail, and then went on again with +his dressing of his wound. + +"There," cried Serge, after looking back at the distant Gauls, "they're +not likely to pursue us, so make him ease the ponies down a little. We +must not wear them out at the start. That's better," he continued, as +Marcus touched the driver on the shoulder and signed to him to moderate +their speed. + +This done, Serge placed his spear in the loops and Marcus' beside it, +before sinking down upon his knees on the other side of the wounded dog. + +"Now then," he said, "let's see whether it's very bad or not," and he +laid his great hand upon the dog's head. + +Lupe ceased the licking upon the instant, and raised his head to gaze +intelligently in the old soldier's eyes. + +"Good dog!" said the latter, speaking with gruff gentleness. "I won't +hurt you more than I can help." + +As if he comprehended the old soldier's words and placed full confidence +in his knowledge and power, Lupe stretched himself out fully upon his +left side, extended his head, and, half closing his eyes, lay perfectly +still as if dead. + +"Poor old Lupe!" said Marcus, softly, and he took hold of the dog's +right forepaw, with the result that the poor animal winced, but only +whined a little and did not try to withdraw his leg, but at the same +time began again to beat the floor of the chariot with his tail, keeping +up the latter, as Serge carefully examined the injury. + +"Nasty place!" growled Serge. + +"Not dangerous?" cried Marcus, anxiously. + +"Dangerous? No, not it. He had got himself into the right position +when the spear thrust was made. It's bad enough, of course--" + +"Oh, Serge!" cried Marcus. + +"But there's no likelihood of its being dangerous. The spear caught him +on the flank and went right in alongside his ribs, from the thick hair +above his shoulder right away to the front of his hind jumper." + +"Deep in the flesh, Serge?" + +"No, no; only just under the loose skin." + +"Has it bled much?" said Marcus, anxiously. + +"Plenty, my lad, but he won't die of it. Do you hear, Lupe, old boy? +Your doctor says he is not going to do anything in the way of tying you +up, for this is the sort of wound that has done bleeding and will heal +up without any more help than you can give it with your tongue; so go on +and do what you like to it, just the same as you began when you were +stopped." + +The dog ceased beating the floor of the chariot as Serge went on talking +to him, and as soon as the old soldier had given him a final pat or two +he resumed the application of Nature's remedy, paying no heed to those +in the chariot, which was now rolling steadily on and leaving the scene +of the late encounter farther and farther behind. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. + +IN THE TRACK OF AN ARMY. + +It was not easy to quiet down the half wild steeds. They had been going +through a long period of inaction since the fierce charge made on the +night of the encounter before crossing the snowy pass, and once their +driver had, to use the horsey phrase, given them their heads, and urged +them on to their top speed, their hot, wild blood had been bubbling +through their veins, making them snort and tear along heedless of rock, +rut, and the roughest ground. Marcus had told the driver to check them +twice over, but as soon as Lupe was in the chariot and both Marcus and +Serge busy seeing to his wound, the speed began to increase, till the +chariot was bumping over the open plain faster than ever; and though the +charioteer strove his best it was some time before he managed to get his +little pair into hand again so that the pace grew moderate and the +progress was made at a gentle canter, instead of a wild gallop which +threatened wreck over some projecting stone. + +"They were half mad with excitement," cried Marcus, who was breathing +hard. + +"Yes," grunted Serge. "I thought we were going to be upset over and +over again. Feel a bit frightened, boy?" + +"Frightened?" said Marcus, looking wonderingly at his companion. "No! +I liked it. Why, it was glorious to rush over the plain like that." + +"Wouldn't have been very glorious if one wheel had come bump against a +stone, flown all to pieces, and we two had gone flying one way and the +chariot the other." + +"No," said Marcus, laughing; "but that wheel did not, and we are all as +right as can be, with the enemy left behind." + +"Yes, that's all very true, boy," said Serge, who was pressing his +helmet a little farther back and holding it there so that he could get a +good uninterrupted look all round. + +"You didn't like it, then?" said Marcus, smiling at his companion's +perplexed expression. + +"Course I didn't," growled Serge. + +"Lupe did. Just look at him. He has curled himself up to go to sleep. +That's a good sign, isn't it, that he is not badly hurt?" + +"Yes, he's not going to be bad," said Serge, without so much as a glance +at the sleeping animal. "Dogs always do curl up when they are hurt;" +and he kept on staring anxiously ahead. + +"What are you looking for, Serge? More enemies?" asked Marcus. + +"No," replied the old soldier, though it was more like a grunt than a +reply. + +"What are you watching for, then? Not stones? It's getting smoother, +and we're going on at a nice steady rate now." + +"Yes, boy, we're going along at a nice steady rate, but I want to know +where to?" + +"Where to?" cried Marcus, quickly. "Why, to find the main army, and +deliver the message." + +"Yes, boy," growled the old soldier; "but where is the main army?" + +Marcus stared at his companion for a few moments in complete +astonishment, before gazing straight in front between the tossing manes +of the cantering ponies, and then looked to right and left. + +"I don't know," he said, at last. "Somewhere in front, I suppose." + +"Somewhere in front, you suppose!" grumbled Serge. "But where's that? +Nowhere, I say. We shall never come up with them if we go on like this. +We may be getting farther away at every stride." + +"Oh, Serge!" cried the boy, excitedly. + +"And it's O, Marcus!" growled the old fellow, sourly. + +"What's to be done Serge?" cried the boy, despairingly. "Why, we may be +losing time." + +"Most likely," said Serge. + +"And I was thinking that in flying along as we have been we were getting +nearer and nearer to the army. Now, then, what is to be done?" + +Serge was silent for a few moments, and then said slowly: + +"Well, boy, it seems to me that the best thing we can do is to bear off +to the right." + +"But that may take us wrong," said Marcus, excitedly. "Why not go to +the left?" + +"Humph!" grunted Serge. "Because that may take us wrong, boy. You see, +there's a lot of chance in it, and we must use our brains." + +"Of course. That's what I'm trying to do, Serge." + +"Don't seem like it, boy. We've got to track the army, haven't we?" + +"Yes," cried Marcus, "but they've left no traces." + +"Not that we have found as yet, boy, but they must have left some +wounded men, or sick, belonging to the army or the enemy. If they're +fighting their way, as is most likely, we may be sure that a good many +men have fallen." + +"Yes, that's reasonable enough, Serge, but we have seen no signs of +one." + +"Not one," said the old soldier. "So as there have been no traces, we +must go by guesswork, mustn't we?" + +"Yes, of course," cried Marcus. "Well, you guessed and I guessed, and I +think my guess will be the better one." + +"I know you do; but I don't, boy." + +"Why?" + +"Because there's no reason in yours and there is in mine." + +"I can't see that," said Marcus, stubbornly. "Show me how your way can +be better than mine." + +"That's soon done, boy," said Serge. "Caius Julius will have a big army +with him, won't he?" + +"Yes, of course; a very large one." + +"With plenty of mounted soldiers and chariots." + +"Yes," said Marcus. + +"Well, would he pick out the roughest part of the country all among the +rocks, like you have, or the lower and more even way like mine?" + +"You are right and I'm wrong, Serge," cried Marcus, frankly. "Let's go +your way." + +The old soldier nodded, the order was given, and the driver turned his +horses' heads more to the right; but before they had gone far Marcus +caught his companion by the arm. + +"But suppose, Serge, that the army did not come this way at all? We do +not know that it did." + +"How's that?" asked the old soldier. + +"Why, it might have gone by some other way." + +"Which?" growled Serge. + +"Oh, I don't know," replied the boy. "There must be plenty of ways +through the mountains by which an army could go." + +"No, there mustn't, and there arn't, without you go a long journey +round, and that a general is not likely to do. Passes through the +mountains are a long way apart; and besides, of course our new captain +knew the way that Caius Julius was going, and this is the way he meant +to follow if he had come on." + +"Are you sure?" said the boy, doubtingly. + +"Certain, my lad, or I wouldn't go this way." + +Serge had struck for the right, and he proved to be right indeed, for +before an hour had passed the adventurers had good proof, the old +soldier suddenly giving vent to a grunt of satisfaction. + +"What is it, Serge?" cried Marcus, eagerly, seeing that the old man was +smiling. + +"I'm right," he said. + +"What! Can you see anything?" + +"Yes; look yonder, boy." + +Marcus gazed in the direction the old man pointed, carefully scanning +the distance, but seeing nothing save the undulating stony plain with +here and there a stunted tree, and in one part a depression like an old +river bed. + +"Well," he said; at last; "I can see nothing." + +"Not looking right," said Serge. + +"I've looked right and left, and down that hollow too," said Marcus. + +"That's what I say. You haven't looked right up. Look up." + +"Up?" cried Marcus, who felt puzzled. "I do wish you would speak. +There is nothing to see there but those crows circling slowly round and +round." + +"That's right," grunted Serge; "you have seen what I mean." + +"What, the crows?" + +Serge grunted, and Marcus stared. + +"I don't know a bit what you mean," said Marcus, irritably. "Don't, +pray don't, waste time." + +"I'm not wasting time. I say we're on the right track, boy. Look at +the crows." + +"What for?" cried Marcus, angrily. + +"What for?" growled Serge. "S'pose you and me was at home and were out +among the pastures and up the lowest slopes of the mountains where we +drive the goats." + +"Well, what then?" cried Marcus, impatiently. + +"And suppose we saw crows flying round and round. What would you say +then?" + +"That there was a dead lamb or a kid lying somewhere about, or that the +wolves had been down and killed a sheep." + +"Well?" said Serge, with a dry look on his wrinkled face. + +Marcus was silent for a few moments, and then, "Oh, Serge," he cried, +with a look of horror, "you don't think--" + +"Yes, I do, boy. Nay, I feel sure. There's been a big fight yonder +where those crows are flying about." + +"Yes: I see," cried Marcus. "But--but which side has won?" + +"Ah, that we are going to see, my boy, and before long too. Turn a bit +more to the right, my man," he continued, laying his hand upon the +driver's shoulder, and their direction was a trifle altered, with the +result that before long they were passing by the side of a portion of +the plain where it was evident that a desperate encounter had taken +place from the large number of ghastly relics of the engagement that lay +scattered about, spread over the space of quite a mile. + +The scene was passed in silence, Marcus pressing their driver to urge on +the ponies till they were well ahead, after grasping the fact that a +stubborn stand must have been made, and that the action had been +continued onward to where they stood. + +"Well," said Serge, "you see all clearly enough now, don't you, boy?" + +"I'm not quite sure," said Marcus, thoughtfully, "though I think our +army must have won the day." + +"There's no doubt about that, boy, and in such a fight as it has been +they could not help losing heavily; but I haven't seen the body and arms +of a single Roman soldier, and that is a sure sign that they won the +day, and then stopped to carry away their wounded and bury their dead." + +Marcus shuddered, and they rode on for a time in silence, passing here +and there a little mound, and as soon as they had cleared one the old +soldier swept the distance with his eyes in search of another. + +Marcus looked at him questioningly. + +"Yes, boy," said the old fellow, softly; "an ugly way of tracking our +road, but a sure. Those hillocks show where they've laid some of our +poor fellows who fell out to lie down and die, and there their comrades +found them." + +"War is very horrible," said Marcus, after a pause. + +"Well, yes," replied Serge, "I suppose it is; but soldiers think it's +very glorious, and as a man's officers say it is, why, I suppose they're +right. But there; that's not for us to think about. It's not horrible +for our Roman soldiers to stop and bury their slain, and their doing +this has made it easy for us to follow the track of the army." + +"Yes," said Marcus, who was gazing straight before him; "and look +there." + +Serge shaded his eyes, and gazed in the direction pointed out. + +"Yes," he said, "that's another sign-post to show us our way, and I dare +say we shall come upon some more, ready to prove that we are on the +right track. The crows seem to have been pretty busy there, boy." + +"The crows and the ants," said Marcus. + +"Yes, and maybe the wolves have been down from the mountains to have +their turn." + +"Whoever would think, Serge, that those scattered white bones had once +formed a beautiful horse, just such a one as these we have in the +chariot?" + +"Ah, who indeed?" replied the old soldier. "But I don't know that we +want to think about it, boy. Let's think about your message and getting +on to deliver it. We must make the best of our way while the light +lasts, so as to get on as far as we can, as we know now that we're going +right. I should like to get down to some hilly or mountainous hit." + +"What for, Serge?" + +"To climb up when it's dark." + +"Because you think it will be safe to sleep there?" + +"No, boy; I was not thinking of sleeping till we get our message +delivered. I was wondering whether we should be lucky enough to get so +far that after dark, if we climbed up high enough, we might be able to +see our people's watch fires twinkling like stars in the distance." + +"Oh, Serge, that would be capital!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "Do you +think we shall be so fortunate?" + +"Don't know, boy," growled the old soldier; "but hurry the ponies along +while we can see that we are on the right track. There's no reason why +we shouldn't be fortunate." + +"Oh, we must be, Serge," cried Marcus. "It's horrible to think of our +general and all his men shut up in that bitter snowy pass, fighting hard +for life, and always watching for the help that does not come. +Forward!" shouted the boy, and at his word the driver seemed to make the +horses fly. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. + +MARCUS' PLAN. + +"Steady, steady!" cried Serge to the driver. "Mind that great block." + +For as they tore on, with more and more traces of an engagement teaching +them that they were going right, the driver seemed to be sending the +fiery little pair he drove straight for a low mass of stone, contact +with which must have meant wreck. + +Startled by the old soldier's angry shout, the driver drew one rein +sharply, making the ponies swerve right for another far more dangerous +obstacle and but for Marcus' readiness in snatching at the other rein, a +worse mishap would have occurred. + +They were saved from this, but the shouts had scared the fiery little +steeds, sending them dashing frantically off in quite a fresh direction, +while to Marcus' horror, he saw that it was into another danger in the +shape of a vast body of the enemy who, as the flying ponies drew near, +sprang to their feet from where they were lying behind a ridge. + +Getting the ponies once more well in hand, the driver, who saw nothing +but death for himself if they were taken, wrenched the heads of the pair +round once more, just when they seemed about to plunge into the thick +ranks of the enemy, along whose front they tore in the intent of +sweeping round their line. + +But the hope was vain, for another body of men came into sight, rising +from the earth where they had been lying, to form up at right angles to +the first body, and once more the direction of the chariot had to be +changed, then altered again and again, for to Marcus' horror foes sprang +up in every direction they took, the country seeming alive with the +enemy, and all prospect of getting through them and continuing their +dash for the Roman army at an end. + +"What's to be done, Serge?" cried the boy, at last. + +"Steady the ponies and let them get their wind again." + +This was done, the gallop being turned into a gentle trot and from that +into a walk, while the fugitives watched the slow, steady advance of the +barbarians, who in their way, in spite of the name they received, +appeared to be nearly as civilised as the Romans themselves. + +Their intent now seemed to be to make sure of the capture of the chariot +and its occupants as they kept on closing up and gradually narrowing the +extent of the open plain about which the galloping evolutions had taken +place. + +"It's just as if they knew that we were the bearers of an important +message, Serge," said Marcus. + +"Seems like it, boy, but it is not," was the reply. "We're enemies and +invaders on their lands, and they mean to take us at all costs. It +looks bad too." + +"What does?" said Marcus, sharply. + +"The country being up like this. It looks bad for our army, boy. I'm +beginning to think that Julius has had to fight every step of the way he +has come, and if our message was not what it is I should say it was our +soldierly duty to give up attempting to get through with it." + +"What!" cried Marcus, with a look of horror, as he turned from watching +the approaching enemy spreading out more and more over the open plain. + +"I said if it wasn't what it is," said Serge, quietly. + +"But you wouldn't give up, Serge, come what may?" + +"Do I look the sort of man to give up when I have work to do?" + +"No, no," cried Marcus, warmly. "It was wrong of me to think it even +for a moment. But now, Serge, our way lies away to the left." + +"No, boy; I've been watching every turn we took, and if we kept on as we +are now we should about be in the line our army took." + +"Then we must make a brave dash now and with lowered spears gallop right +through them." + +"And come down before we were half through their line, boy." + +"Oh, don't oppose what seems to be the only plan, Serge!" cried the boy, +appealingly. + +"I oppose it because it means being killed or taken prisoners." + +"Then what can we do?" cried Marcus. + +"I'll tell you what's best, boy," said the old soldier, thoughtfully. +"They're a long way off us, both in front and on the left." + +"Ah, try and trick them?" cried Marcus. "I know!" + +"That's right, then, boy," said Serge, with a smile. "How would you do +it?" + +"Why like this," cried Marcus, excitedly--"Pull up!" he cried to the +driver. + +The man obeyed, and the ponies stopped short, looking full of go, but +with their sides marked heavily with sweat and foam. + +"Now," cried Marcus, laying down his spear and leaping out of the +chariot, "out with you both. Lie down, Lupe! Quiet, sir!" + +The driver and Serge sprang from their places and followed Marcus to the +heads of their steeds, to begin patting and caressing them in the full +sight of the army. + +"Now," continued Marcus, "you get back into the car," and the driver +stepped into his place. + +"Take hold of the reins and hold them ready, but sit down as if your +work was done. You, Serge, lead one pony; I'll lead the other, and +we'll walk them slowly towards the enemy away here to the left." + +"So as to let them think we have given up trying to escape, and are +going to surrender?" said Serge, quickly. "Well done, boy! That's just +about what I was going to say." + +"Then," continued Marcus, "when we have slowly walked the ponies as near +to the enemy as we dare, resting them all the while, I'll give the word +to gallop off, and as the ponies are turned we two spring into the +chariot as it passes, and we'll tear away for liberty. No stopping this +time, but use our spears." + +"That's right," said Serge, rubbing his hands softly; "and I think they +will be so taken by surprise that we shall get through; and if we +don't--" + +"Well, Serge, finish what you were going to say," said Marcus, sadly. + +"It will be because it couldn't be done." + +"But it must be done." + +Just then a faint burst of cheering came to the adventurers' ears and +began to run along the line upon their left, towards which they now +began to move at a walk. + +The next instant it was taken up in front to their right and rear. + +"They think we've surrendered, Marcus, boy," said Serge, with a chuckle. +"Here, do as I do; take off your helmet and pitch it into the chariot. +It will look better." + +Marcus followed his companion's example, and leading the ponies, the +adventurers advanced slowly towards the enemy on their left, still about +a quarter of a mile away, and Marcus had the satisfaction of seeing that +the men had all halted, and those on the left were awaiting their +approach, while all ideas of order or discipline were at an end, the +lines breaking up and becoming so many loose crowds of armed men, +instead of roughly-formed Greek-like phalanxes ready for action. + +Those were exciting moments, and as the time neared for giving the order +for action, Marcus' heart did not fail, for it beat as strongly as ever, +but a feeling of doubt began to grow as he glanced along the line of the +army he was approaching, and then at the loose mass standing or moving +about at right angles, and thought how impossible it would be to dash +through them. + +At last, when the chariot was about fifty yards from the line, and a +couple of the enemy who seemed to be leaders stepped forward as if to +take their weapons, Marcus, without turning his head, whispered softly: + +"Ready, Serge?" + +"Ready!" was the reply. + +"Then drop your rein when I say _Now_. You, driver, turn their heads at +the same moment and gallop away." + +For answer the charioteer gathered up the reins a little, when, startled +at the touch, the ponies threw up their heads. + +What followed looked so natural upon the movement of the steeds that +when Marcus gave the word, and he and Serge stepped back together it +seemed to the enemy as if the horses had snatched the reins from their +hands, and when the chariot was turned rapidly, to dash off, the actions +of Marcus and Serge in catching at the sides and swinging themselves in +were looked upon as attempts to help the driver check the endeavours of +a restive pair of horses which had taken fright and galloped away at +full speed. + +Consequently a burst of laughter arose, to travel down the line, every +man watching the progress of the supposed runaways with delight, while +the body of men, now a disorderly crowd, instead of taking the alarm and +closing up with presented spears to receive and impale the runaways, +caught the contagion of laughter and separated, tumbling over one +another in their haste to escape the expected shock, and leaving a wide +opening through which the horses tore, urged to their utmost speed by +their driver's excited cries. + +Seeing this, Marcus shouted to Serge, who was ready with the spears and +holding out one to Marcus. + +"No, no," he cried, and seeing no danger he bent over the front of the +chariot, making believe to snatch at the reins, and grasping his idea +Serge seemed to be seconding his efforts as they tore by, and it was not +until the last of the enemy was left behind that any attempt was made to +follow, while even then the idea that it was a ruse went home but +slowly. + +"Hurrah!" said Marcus, softly, for he did not dare to shout. "They may +think what they like now; we have got the start and ought to be able to +drive clear away for the army again, eh, Serge?" + +"I hope so, boy, but after what I've seen I'm afraid that the passage of +our army has roused up the whole country, and that we shall be meeting +enemies every step of the way." + +"Oh, don't say disheartening things after this escape, Serge," cried the +boy, excitedly. "That's right, lad; keep them going for a bit longer, +and then steady down again to give them breath. Look at the beautiful +beasts, Serge. I wish we were mounted upon them, instead of letting +them drag this heavy chariot." + +"I'm looking at the enemy, my boy," cried Serge. "They don't seem to +know the truth yet, but scores of them are coming after us at a run. I +don't think they'll catch us though, for we are going four feet to their +one." + +"Yes, but we must not distress the horses. Steady! Steady! An easy +gallop now. That's better. A quarter of an hour like this, and we can +laugh at them, unless old Serge is right and enemies are ready to spring +up everywhere in our way." + +"Ah!" shouted Serge, at that moment, and the ponies took his cry to mean +faster, and increased their speed. "No, no," he cried. "Steady, +steady! Look, Marcus, boy, we are going right," and the old soldier +pointed to another of the grim traces of war in the shape of an +overturned chariot, with the skeletons of the horses that had drawn it +looking ghastly and strangely suggestive of what might have been their +fate, or might happen even yet. + +Before long the crowded together lines of the enemy began to grow more +and more confused; then the idea of distance manifested itself more and +more, and those who had pursued melted away into the main body, while +the gallant little steeds, whose pace had been slackened down into a +steady hand gallop, were eased more and more, to proceed at a gentle +trot such as they could easily keep up, till they were checked in the +midst of a green slope that ran along by a pine wood, pleasant +indications of the mountain land being left behind. + +Here a clear cool stream ran prattling along, towards which the ponies +stretched out their necks and were allowed to drink, their example being +followed by those they had drawn, a short distance higher up, and Marcus +rose looking eager and refreshed. + +"We shall do it, Serge," he cried; "but I have seen no signs lately of +the army having passed this way. Have you?" + +Serge gave him a peculiar look. + +"Yes," he said, roughly; "there has been fighting just yonder, if you +look for it; but don't, boy. I want to get on gently again, and to find +some sign of a farm, or peasants' hut. We must have food of some kind +if we are to do our work. Let's get a little farther on, and then I +must forage." + +"Yes," said Marcus, sadly. "It seems waste of time, but it must be +done, I suppose. But why not let the ponies browse a little here? See, +they have already begun." + +"Because it will be of no use for us to look about here." + +"Of course not," said Marcus, hastily, and he stood looking hurriedly +round, to see for the first time that all along the edge of the forest +which should have been bordered with fresh green bushes, was broken down +and trampled, while not far from where he stood fire had been doing its +work, and a large portion was blackened stump and skeleton-like stem. + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. + +MARCUS' PROMISE. + +"Seems to me, my lad," said Serge, "that we ought to have been started +on this journey two days earlier." + +"Yes, Serge," replied Marcus, in a despairing tone. "It's maddening. +Here have we gone on, almost starved, never getting a proper night's +rest--" + +"Well, but that's nothing to grumble at, my boy. That's soldiering; +that is what I always told you. A soldier must be ready to fast and go +without sleep, and be always prepared to fight. Now, didn't I teach you +that?" + +"Yes, Serge, but I didn't quite understand it then." + +"But you do now?" + +"Oh, yes, I know now; and I wouldn't care a bit if we could only +overtake them. Three times over during the past week we have been so +close that half a day's march must have brought us to the army." + +"That's true," said Serge; "and each time we were cut off by parties of +the enemy, and driven back, just as we thought we could march in, find +the master and Caius Julius, and deliver our message. Fortune of war, +my lad; fortune of war." + +"Misfortune of war," cried Marcus, angrily. "Here, I don't know how +many days it is since we started, for days and nights and time all seem +to have grown mixed up together." + +"Yes, we have had rather a muddled and worrying time of it, Marcus, +lad." + +"And now we are just as far off as ever." + +"Well, not quite, my lad." + +"I feel weak for want of food, and confused for want of sleep." + +"Not you! You only fancy that because you're down in the dumps. You'll +be all right as soon as ever there's anything wants doing and we have +tumbled by accident near to one of those parties of the enemy, who all +seem to be moving the same way as we are to surround the army." + +"Yes, Serge, and that's what I am afraid they are doing, and keeping us +outside. It's all desperate and bad." + +"Oh, I don't know. We shall get to them some time," said Serge. + +"Some time!" cried Marcus, mockingly. "Our poor general with his +followers must have been utterly destroyed by this time." + +"Tchah! Not he! You don't know what a Roman general can do. He'll +hold out for months, or kill those who are attacking him. Give it up +your fashion!" + +"What do you mean by my fashion?" cried Marcus, sharply. + +"Give it up in despair sort of way when there's no need." + +"No need!" cried Marcus, bitterly. "You seem to be blind to the danger. +Why, the main army, as you must see perfectly well, has penetrated so +far into the enemy's country that it is completely surrounded by the +tribes that have gathered together, and are only now waiting for a +favourable opportunity to fall upon it and crush it." + +"Well, the army's no worse off than we are. They've surrounded us-- +parties of them--only we wouldn't be crushed. It's just the same with +the Roman army; it won't be crushed. I've taught you times enough, boy, +what our generals can do--lock their men together, shield to shield, +cohort to cohort, all facing outwards and bristling with spear and +sword. These barbarians are brave enough and they rush at our men +meaning to crush them and sweep them out of the country; and so they +keep on at it, losing more and more, before they roll back beaten." + +"Yes, Serge, but only to try again." + +"Oh, of course. That's right enough, but it only means to be rolled +back again. Now, look here, my boy; you have got your message to +deliver." + +"Yes, yes, I know," cried Marcus, despairingly. + +"And you are a bit disappointed because it's not done. Everything's +bad, you say. It's been all misfortune since we started, and we may as +well give up at once." + +"Well, isn't it all true?" cried Marcus, as he stood unconsciously +caressing one of the chariot horses as the pair stood ready to make +another dash at a moment's notice, their driver busying himself the +while with seeing to and examining the different parts of the harness. + +"True! Hardly a bit of it," cried Serge. "I ought to give you a good +drilling and bullying for what you said; but somehow I can't, for we +have had some very hard work, and all through you have been such a brave +boy." + +"Oh, nonsense, Serge! You are only saying that to comfort me. You will +praise me so." + +"Oh no I won't," said the old soldier, gruffly. "I won't give you a bit +more than's good for you, boy. When I say you have done well it means +you have done well. You won't get any flattery out of me. All this +trouble that we are going through is no more than you must expect. Look +what we are doing, and how we stand." + +Serge was sitting down on a stone, busily employed as he talked +polishing and sharpening his sword as it lay across his knees, and he +did not trouble himself to look up at his young companion, but kept on +lecturing him in a bluff, good-humoured way, smiling to himself with +satisfaction all the time. + +"Now here we are, trying to overtake our army, which had some days the +start of us. If I say what you think isn't right, you stop me. Well, +our army has invaded the country of these Gallic tribes. The Gauls are +no fools. They know Caius Julius has come to conquer them, and they +don't want to be conquered. Their idea is to invade Rome and conquer +us. Well, my boy, we have come into their country, and every man who +can fight has been called upon to come and fight against us, so that +like a big crop in a cultivated land, what has been planted has come up +all over. And this crop is fighting men with swords and spears. Now +we--you and me and the driver, and we ought to put the horses in, bless +'em, for they've done wonders--have come after the army, marching +through this bristling crop, and you, without taking any account of what +a hard job it is to get through, keep on grumbling and saying everything +is bad." + +"And so it is, Serge." + +"It arn't, boy!" cried the old soldier, firmly, and letting his sword +rest, brightly polished and sharp as it was, he now raised his head and +looked smilingly in the boy's face. "Haven't you got proof of it that +things are not as bad as you say?" + +"No," cried Marcus, angrily. "I was entrusted with a message to my +father and Caius Julius, and I have not done my task." + +"Not yet, boy, but you are going to at the first chance. Why, look +here, my lad, if things were half as bad as you say they are we +shouldn't be here. If we have escaped once from being taken or killed +we have got through a dozen times. Look at us. Why, we haven't got a +scratch, and here we are, better, ever so much, than when we started." + +"Better?" cried Marcus. + +"Yes, better. We are a bit hungry." + +"I tell you I'm half starved," cried Marcus. + +"Take your belt up another hole, then, boy. That's a splendid +tightener. Hungry! Why, you talk about it as if it was a disease, when +it's a thing you can cure yourself the first time you get hold of a big +cake and a bowl of goat's milk." + +"Oh, how you talk!" cried the boy, holding out his arm and trying to +span his wrist with his fingers. "Look how thin I am getting." + +"Thin!" cried Serge. "Why, you look prime. You have got rid of a lot +of that nasty fat that was filling out your skin through doing nothing +but sit on a stool all day making scratches with a stylus on a plate of +wax. What does a soldier want with fat? Your armour's quite heavy +enough to carry, without your being loaded up with a lot of fat. That's +right enough for women and girls; makes 'em look smooth and nice and +pretty, and fills up all the holes and corners; but a soldier wants bone +and muscle--good, hard, tough muscle and sinew, and that's what you have +got now. Look at me." + +"Yes, I have looked at you time after time, Serge, and you look +hollow-cheeked and haggard and worn." + +"Why, I feel prime, my boy, ready for anything; ten years younger than +when we started. Why, I have got into regular fighting condition again. +Did you see how I jumped into the car yesterday when the ponies started +without me?" + +"Yes, I saw you run ever so far and jump," cried Marcus. + +"And you begin talking to me about being haggard and worn! Isn't a +sword all the sharper for being a bit worn?" + +"Yes, of course." + +"So's a soldier. Look here, boy; we are getting seasoned, and I'm proud +to say that I am what a man's officer would call a veteran, and that's +the finest title there is in an army. Then, too, look at our lad here. +See what a splendid driver he's turned out, and how he can send that +chariot in and out among the rocks so close as almost to shave them, and +right in between pairs of them where you or I would think there wasn't +room to pass. And then there's the ponies! They are a bit thin, +certainly, but they are as fine as bronze, and can gallop farther and +better than ever. Now then! Speak out honest! Did you ever before see +such a splendid pair?" + +"No, Serge, never." + +"And yet you say that everything's wrong and hopeless and bad. Why, +boy, if I didn't know it was all through your being young and anxious +and eager to do your duty, I should be ashamed of you." + +"But you are not, Serge?" cried the boy, excitedly. + +"'Shamed of you? No, boy. I feel proud." + +"There, Serge," cried Marcus, leaving the pony, to go and lay his hand +upon the old soldier's shoulder, "I've done, and I will try and never +complain any more. I do see now what a lot we have to be thankful for. +Now then; what's the next thing we ought to do?" + +"Same as usual, my lad," said Serge, rising and sheathing his sword, +which went back into its scabbard with a quick glide till the hilt was +nearly reached, when it required a firm thrust to get it close into its +place. "Well, to begin with, forage first. I often think it's a pity a +man wasn't made like a horse. Look at those two ponies! How their +coats shine in the sunshine! They began eating their breakfast before +it was light, for I was watching and wakeful, and I got thinking like +this as I heard them busy at it, crop and blow, crop and blow, and after +they had eaten all they wanted they had a drink of water, and there they +are fit for the day, while we three have got to find out some place or +another where we can buy, or frighten them into giving us some bread and +milk. We always have been lucky enough so far, and I don't see why we +shouldn't be again to-day." + +"But which way shall we go, Serge? It's of no use to try to follow up +the army as we did yesterday, and then have to turn back because the +enemy are between us and it." + +"No, boy; I think the best thing we can do is to leave that till we have +done foraging, for we must have something to eat. Then we'll try if we +can't creep round these tribes, or get in between them somehow. Perhaps +we may have a bit of luck to give us a little help. Anyhow, we are not +going to despair." + +"No, Serge," cried Marcus, firmly; "anything but that." + +"Hah!" cried Serge. "That's spoken like Cracis' son." + + + +CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. + +ON THE BRINK. + +Evening was coming on on the following day, when, growing tired but in +higher spirits, Marcus and Serge were cautiously following the traces +well marked along the side of a forest which gave unmistakable evidence +of the passing of a large body of men. + +There had been rain some hours before, which had left the earth softened +and refreshed, ready, too, for yielding to the pressure of horses' hoofs +and the clearly-indicated lines formed by chariot wheels. These formed +a splendid guide for the adventurers, who added their own traces as they +pressed eagerly on. + +"They are our people, Marcus, boy, and they are not far ahead." + +"Think so, Serge?" + +"Sure of it, boy. It has rained since morning, and whoever passed along +here has made these marks since the rain." + +"And it's certainly not a retreat, Serge, for there's no sign of +fighting." + +"Not a bit, my boy. It's our army on the march, and all those signs +show that our men were in full fettle, ready for anything, and are +pushing forward into the middle of the enemy's country. See yon +mountains?" + +"Mountains!" said Marcus. "You might call them hills." + +"Well, hills, then; and it strikes me that we shall find these tracks +lead straight to one of those green nicely-rounded tops with a pleasant +slope all round. Now, there's that one there," continued Serge, +pointing to a hill standing by itself; "that's just the sort of place my +old officer would have picked out for his next halting camp, lead his +men right to the top, mark out their places, and have them all at work +before sundown, busy as bees digging out a ditch and throwing up a wall +of earth in front for our men to fight behind, in case they were +attacked." + +Serge had hardly ceased speaking as he walked with Marcus on one side of +their horses, the driver on the other, to rest the brave little animals +as much as possible, when, passing round a clump of trees, following the +bend of the track made by the marching army, they came more fully in +view of the hills whose tops only they had seen before. + +Nearest of all was the one to which Serge had drawn attention, and as +this opened out more and more in the evening sunshine Marcus uttered an +ejaculation and caught at his companion's arm. + +"Ah!" cried Serge, starting, and he raised his hand to sign to their +driver to stop, before catching at one of the ponies' reins. "What is +it? Enemy?" + +"I don't know," cried Marcus, excitedly. "Look!" + +The old soldier shaded his eyes, and uttered a cry of joy. + +"Enemy? No?" he cried. "It's just as I said. Look, boy! Our people! +Our army! Far off as it is, I know them by the standards, and the way +they have gone to work. Look at them! Why they look no bigger than +bees from here, and it is as I said. They are forming camp as if they +meant to stop for days." + +"Oh, don't, Serge," cried the boy, huskily. "Don't talk like this if +you are not sure. It seems too good to believe, after all that we have +gone through." + +"Not it, boy!" cried Serge, excitedly. "Not a bit too good. Look at +all the bad we have had. Everything has another side, and there it is +for us." + +"Are you sure?" + +"As that I am here, boy. That's the Roman army, or part of it, for I +can't be certain that Julius and Cracis are there. But if it's only a +part it will do for us, for the general who commands can receive our +message and go to yon poor fellows' help. Now, then, forward at once, +for though that camp looks so near we have miles to travel before we can +march up and be stopped by their sentries ready to challenge us in the +good old Latin tongue. Why, boy, you said yesterday that all was bad +and everything had failed. What do you say now?" + +"Forward!" cried Marcus, "and at once!" + +The ponies had done little work that day, for the advance had been made +cautiously on account of the many bands of the enemy's warriors which +swarmed throughout the country, and the empty chariot had formed the +load; but now without further conversation Marcus sprang in. + +"If we walk, Serge," he said, "we shall not get there till after dark." + +"And then have a lot of trouble about going up to the camp," said +Serge--"perhaps get a spear in one's ribs; but I wouldn't hurry. +Besides, we don't know whether the country's clear between us and them." + +It was a glorious evening, and for the first time the land with its +forest and verdant hills looked beautiful to Marcus by comparison with +the rugged barren mountains they had traversed, and whose peaks lowered +up stern and forbidding in the distance, as they glanced back from time +to time. + +A sharp look-out was kept, as whenever the trees were not too close the +adventurers made cautious observations of the surrounding country, but +nothing suggestive of the enemy was seen, the broad track made by the +advancing Roman army marked their way, descending gradually from the +edge of the forest into one of the valleys beyond which extended the +range of verdant hills. Upon the special one that they had marked down +they had a clear view of the busy soldiery passing to and fro and +looking diminutive in the extreme, before the track led farther into the +woody valley and the hills were completely shut out. + +The distance proved greater than they had expected, but there was their +guide wandering here and there up ascents or down into the depths of the +valley along which meandered a lovely little river whose moist +meadow-like sides were sadly trampled and cut up. Still there was no +sign of danger, and the river bank was followed for some distance. + +"But those hills are on the other side, Serge," said Marcus after a +time. + +"Yes, and before long we shall come upon a shallow place that has been +forded. They'll have picked out a spot where the chariots could easily +pass, and what would do for them will do nicely for us, boy. So keep +on, and hold your eyes open, for where the Roman soldiers are, the +enemy's men will be pretty near at hand." + +Soon after, the track followed a bend of the river, going nearer and +nearer, and then all at once struck straight for the bright flowing +water, ending at the trampled down bank, and reappearing plainly enough +on the farther side. + +"Not above a foot deep," grunted Serge; and he proved to be right, the +water never once coming up to the chariot's axle trees, while the +ponies' hoofs just splashed in the barely covered gravel as they passed +out on to the springy grass on the farther side, where the track was +more plain than ever. + +"Shall we get there before dark, Serge?" said Marcus, after a time. + +"Hope so, boy, or we shall find it a bit hard. It's easy enough now, +but when the sun's down it will be rather hard to follow the marks with +all these trees overhead." + +"But the path must soon begin to ascend the hill," said Marcus. + +"I expect they'll have found it easier to walk round it and slope up +from the other side. I dare say they've got a good deal of baggage-- +impedimenta, as we call it--else I should have thought that they might +have struck up the valley slope at once. It will be dark before long; +sooner than I expected." + +"But they had the broad daylight, and of course taking a long sweep it +would be much easier for the chariots." + +"Yes," grunted Serge, "I don't like having it dark. We mustn't strike +up at once, must we? It would be nearest." + +"No," said Marcus, decisively; "we might not strike the track again, and +perhaps find that we had chosen the wrong hill, and have to come back." + +"Yes, that's right," said the old soldier. "Slow but sure;" and the +ponies went steadily on, their hoofs rustling through the thick, moist +grass where it was not trampled down. + +"What's the matter, Lupe? Thirsty?" asked Marcus, as the dog raised +himself up, looked over the front of the chariot, and then turned to +gaze wistfully in his master's eyes. "Want water, old fellow?" + +The dog gave the speaker an intelligent look and then sprang out of the +chariot, and after trotting alongside for a time, bounded silently +forward and disappeared. + +They saw no more of him for the next quarter of an hour, and then came +upon him sitting waiting at a spot where the beaten track swept away +from the river. + +"At last!" said Marcus, eagerly, as the ponies' heads were turned; and +before they had gone many hundred yards they had the satisfaction of +seeing the trees open out and the sky look lighter. + +Lupe sprang on in front and disappeared, but at the end of a few minutes +they came upon him again, standing gazing straight before him, +motionless, while as the ponies reached him, they too stopped short. + +"What does that mean?" whispered the old soldier. "Has he seen anything +to scare him?" + +Serge had hardly spoken when from somewhere in front there came the +distant whinnying of a horse. + +"From the army!" cried Marcus, excitedly. But Serge clapped his hand +upon the boy's lips. + +"Our army is not there," he said, in a hoarse whisper, and the driver +gave a quick snatch at the reins, just as one of the ponies stretched +out its neck to answer the challenge. + +"Good!" said Serge, sharply. "Now then, back." + +"Turn back," said Marcus, "now we are so near?" + +"Yes, boy, and try to get round to the camp another way." + +"You think the enemy are near?" whispered Marcus. + +"And enough to make me, boy, seeing how our people have been surrounded +and followed. I thought we were getting on too fast." + +"But look here," said Marcus, excitedly, "I don't like to turn back +without making sure. Let me go on alone and see if you are right." + +"Well," said Serge, slowly, "it would be best, for then--No, I can't let +you do that, boy. We'll stay here for a while till it grows darker, and +then, go on together, creeping amongst the bushes to see what we can +make out, and then come back to the chariot." + +"Why not make a brave dash forward?" said Marcus. + +Serge shook his head. + +"It would be too rash," he said. "We'll take the horses into yon clump +of trees, where they can stand well hidden and it will be easy to find +when we come back." + +"Serge, we shall never find it again in the darkness. Better keep with +it," whispered Marcus, excitedly. + +"Well, maybe you are right, boy. Lead on, then, my man, as silently as +you can. This way." + +Serge stepped in front, and with the darkness closing in fast the ponies +were led forward some twenty yards and then out of the clear open space +in amongst the dark patch of young growth, and the chariot was hardly +hidden from the sight of anyone who might be passing along the track +they were following, before Lupe uttered a low warning growl. + +Marcus bent over the dog and seized him by the muzzle to keep his jaws +closed, and the dog crouched down, while directly after there came the +heavy tramp of advancing men, following their path exactly, and very +dimly-seen from where the adventurers lay _perdu_ a body of men, who, +from the time they took in passing, must have numbered two or three +thousand, came by, the dull sound of their footsteps dying out suddenly +when they were some little distance away. + +"Gone?" whispered Marcus, as soon as he thought it safe to speak. + +"No, boy," was whispered back directly. "They've halted a little way +farther on." + +"What does it mean?" said Marcus. + +"I believe," replied Serge, with his lips close to his young companion's +ear, "that there is quite an army of the enemy in front, and that these +we heard are going to join them." + +"Then we ought to go on and give our people warning that they are going +to be attacked." + +"No need, boy," whispered Serge; "they won't catch our men lying about +with their eyes shut. Careful watch has been set by now, and scouts +will be well advanced. Cracis and Julius will not be caught asleep in +the enemy's country. Now, then, as soon as we can feel sure that no +more are coming we will try and get up to the camp." + +"But you will not be able to find it in the darkness." + +"I think I shall, boy," said the old fellow, confidently. + +"Pst!" whispered the driver, and Lupe uttered another growl, and then +had to suffer the indignity of being muzzled with Marcus' hand, till the +fresh tramping sound had approached them and then passed away. + +"Now, then," said Marcus, "we must risk it now." + +"I'm ready," said Serge. "But what are you going to do?" + +"Go back nearly to the river, and then strike for the hill which must be +to our right. It will be too dark to see, but we ought to be near it +before long, and we are pretty sure to be challenged." + +"I can't propose anything better," said Serge. "So on at once." + +The ponies were led out, and in the gloom Lupe was just seen as he +stepped out in front of the chariot and started off as if to lead the +way, while directly after the low, dull trampling of the ponies and the +soft, crushing sound of the chariot wheels rose in the moist evening +air, the ponies following the dog and the latter acting as if he +perfectly well knew where his master meant to go. For some little time +after the rippling of the river had reached their ears the dog struck +off to the right up a very gradual slope apparently quite free from +trees, keeping on for nearly an hour, before he stopped short, uttering +a low, deep growl, while as it rose in the silence the driver checked +the ponies, just as a sharp, low whispering of voices came from their +front, and then there was silence again, while Marcus and Serge stood +together in the chariot, hand clasped in hand. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY. + +WHAT SERGE THOUGHT. + +The silence seemed to be awful to the listeners, who were prepared to +give the word for the ponies to dash away as soon as the approach they +expected commenced. + +"Our people?" whispered Marcus at last, with his lips close to Serge's +ear. + +"No," was whispered back, and the next moment there was the heavy +trampling of feet, but not towards them; and they had proof directly +that they were no friends by the strange yell of defiance which suddenly +rang out in response to a challenge given in the unmistakable Roman +tongue. + +"Oh!" whispered Marcus, excitedly. "Our people, and so near! We must +go forward now." + +"No, not yet, boy. Hark! Yonder are our people speaking out, and the +fight is beginning." + +"A night attack," whispered Marcus, hoarsely, and with his heart beating +heavily. + +"Yes, boy, and as far as I can make out the hill and camp have been +surrounded. Now, then, the darkness may prove to be our friend. What +do you say? Shall we try to join our people, or fall back till morning, +when we can see what is best for us to do?" + +"Try and join the army," said Marcus, firmly. "If the hill is +surrounded we shall be getting into fresh danger by attempting to fall +back." + +"Yes," said Serge, in a low, deep voice, and no further word was +uttered. Lupe gave vent to an impatient growl, and the ponies from time +to time stamped uneasily as if eager to advance, while away to right and +left rose, all the more horrible for the darkness, the clash of arms and +roar of voices, mingled with the loud braying of trumpets, followed by +the responsive shouts of the soldiery. There were moments when the tide +of battle seemed to flow in the direction of the chariot, but only to be +beaten back and sway to and fro. + +Then, Marcus never afterwards knew how it happened--all he could recall +was a fragment or two of their situation--Serge had just almost shouted +in his ear, having to raise his voice to make himself heard, that they +must at all costs make a dash to get away, and he himself had laid his +hand on their driver's shoulder to bid him drive on, when he found that +he was too late. For all at once he discovered that the battle was +raging close at hand, right in front of the horses' heads, and directly +after as they were swung round in the opposite direction for the +occupants of the chariot to seek safety, there was a rush of armed men. +These came into contact with another body, and so it was that whichever +way they turned there was the wild turmoil and fury of the fight going +on, while as far as Marcus could make out, one minute the Roman soldiers +were driving the barbarians back and carrying all before them, but only +to be overwhelmed in turn by some tremendous wave of the enemy in the +shape of reinforcements, which raged and swirled round the more +disciplined men, carrying them back by sheer weight of numbers in the +direction from which they had come. + +Both Marcus and Serge seemed to bear a charmed life. They made no +attempt to use their weapons, and their position in the car had +something to do with their escape from injury as they held on to the +front, to be borne here and there by their frantic horses, while +naturally enough Roman and Gaul, where they were crowded together in +contention, yielded and made way for the plunging and rearing steeds, +whose hoofs seemed to them for the time being more dangerous than the +weapons of a foe. + +How long all this lasted Marcus never knew. + +It was enough for his brain to take in the wild horrors of the fierce +fight and its many changes till all at once in the dim light shed by the +stars the chariot horses had borne him and Serge partly out of the +fierce crowds of fighting men. + +Encounters were taking place all around in single combat, and charges +and counter charges made by little parties who were separated from the +main body crowded together in the central portions of the battlefield; +and snatching at the opportunity, Serge, spear in hand, leaned over to +Marcus and, pointing forward to an opening in front, shouted to him to +bid their driver make for that gap in the human wall. + +Marcus planted his spear shaft sharply down upon the floor of the +chariot to steady himself, as he leaned down to the driver to utter his +commands, and the next minute the fiery little steeds were tearing away +at full gallop along the open space, as if in their wild excitement they +were eager to escape from the savage scenes and bloodshed going on +around. + +But before a hundred yards had been traversed, the sea of human beings +closed in again, completely filling up the opening, and seeming about to +entirely stop the fugitives' course. + +Serge and the driver, both now as excited as the horses, burst forth +into a wild cry of command, and this and the sight of the dimly-seen +approaching steeds thundering along had their effect. The crowd opened +out again just as the driver's efforts were rewarded and he was able to +check the furious gallop of his steeds and save them from plunging into +the mass of friend and foe alike. + +The gallop became a trot, the trot a gentle amble, as the chariot now +rolled slowly on to where about a score altogether of Romans and Gauls, +each party headed by an officer, were just in the act of meeting, pretty +evenly balanced, in deadly combat. + +As with wild shouts they rushed together with sword and spear clashing +loudly against helmet, shield, or the protecting body armour they wore, +the driver of Marcus' chariot dragged upon his left rein to try and +swing round to avoid the contending foes. But in the darkness he did +not grasp that which was on his left, and Marcus became aware by a +sudden jerk that their further progress was at an end, the chariot being +wedged in between a couple of trees, while the horses were plunging +wildly to escape from a tangle of bush and branch, and the driver had +leaped out to seize them by their heads. + +"Look, look!" shouted Serge just then. + +Marcus, who had had to cling to the sides of the chariot to save himself +from being thrown out, turned sharply to learn the meaning of his old +comrade's cry, and he was just in time to see him throw himself over the +chariot's side, evidently to hurry to the help of the Roman officer and +his few men, who, completely outnumbered, were being beaten down by two +or three times their number of Gauls. + +Serge said no more in words; his acts spoke for themselves, and grasping +that he meant at all costs to go to the help of the Roman officer, +Marcus stood for a moment spear in hand and hurled it with all his might +at four of the barbarians who were attacking the Roman leader, who was +cut off from his companions and faring badly, in spite of a valorous +defence, at his enemies' hands. + +It was pretty nearly momentary, but Marcus took all in at a glance. He +saw that their coming and the dash of the chariot had had their effect +upon a portion of the Gauls, who turned and fled, while some of their +fellows were beating back the few Roman soldiers left unhurt. + +There were enough still, though, of the Gauls to rush at spear-armed +Serge with a yell of triumph, and Marcus, as he saw the sturdy old +soldier making furious play with his spear, snatched out his sword to +rush to his help; but his course was diverted by that which he saw just +beyond, dimly enough, but with sufficient vividness to go straight to +his heart. + +It was the Roman officer staggering back with his helmet falling from +his head from a blow he had just received from one Gaul, while, taking +advantage of his momentary helplessness, a second rushed at him with his +spear, bore him down backwards, and with a yell of triumph planted one +foot upon his chest and drove his spear with all his force right at his +throat. + +There was a curious crashing sound as the spear point was turned aside +by the finely-tempered gorget the Roman wore, and with a snarl the Gaul +raised his weapon again for a second blow. + +He made the thrust, but it was caught midway by the sword of Marcus, who +ended his rush to the Roman's help with a bound; his keen sword met the +descending spear shaft, cutting it right through as if it were a twig, +while he who wielded the sword came with all his weight full upon the +Gaul's chest and sent him rolling over and over upon the ground. + +Marcus, too, came heavily to earth, but it was upon hands and knees, +and, still retaining his sword, he scrambled to his feet again at the +same time as the Gaul, who raised his headless spear on high to bring it +down upon the head of his assailant. + +But at that moment Marcus was reinforced by the officer whose life he +had saved, and who, regaining his feet, cut down the Gaul and turned to +meet his next enemy; for about a dozen men came at him with a rush, but +only to be borne back in turn by a rallying party of the Romans, who, +coming at their officer's help, sprang at the Gauls, to be swept on in +turn by a tremendous rush in which Marcus was trampled down, to lie half +insensible for a few minutes before he struggled up, looked round, and +than staggered towards the trees in which the chariot was entangled, +while the horses were still being held by the driver. + +Here Marcus supported himself, panting and breathing hard, by the edge +of the chariot. He was giddy, and the dim battlefield seemed to be +heaving and slowly gliding round before his eyes. There was a curious +feeling of sickness troubling him and an intense longing for a draught +of water, while his thoughts were all, so to speak, broken and confused +and mingled together with a selfish feeling that he must be very badly +hurt. + +By degrees, though, the various objects began to settle down, and the +roar of battle and clash of arms gave place slowly to a dull, singing +noise in his ears. Then, as if by a sudden jump, his power of thinking +lucidly came back, and he looked round for the officer he had tried to +help. + +But he was not there. Some twenty or thirty dead and wounded men were +scattered about as they had fallen, some few of whom wore the armour of +Roman soldiers, but for the most part they were Gauls, and Marcus looked +in vain for the object of his search. + +Then he turned giddy again, for a mental cloud seemed to close him in, +and he snatched at his helmet and dragged it off, when the cool night +wind that played upon his heated brow brought with it a sense of relief, +and he thought clearly again, not of self but of Serge, and with a cry +of horror he ran from where he had stood, to bend over each of the +prostrate Roman soldiers in turn, uttering a sigh of relief as he raised +himself up, replaced his helmet, and looked round, fully conscious now +that the tide of war had swept right away to a distance. The fighting +was still going on, and the cries and the clashing of weapons were +strangely commingled, but faintly heard. One side had evidently won the +battle and was driving its enemies before it. But were was Serge? + +Marcus turned to where the driver was still soothing the horses, but he +could give him no information. He had not seen Serge since he leapt +from the chariot and was lost directly in the crowd of fighting men. +Marcus stepped back to the spot where his own encounter had taken place, +and looked round again for a few moments, but though he could see +several prostrate bodies Serge's was not one, and going on and on in the +dim starlight he was to some extent able to follow the course of the +fighting men by those they had left behind, till he grew confused as to +his position and began to retrace his steps. + +It was not easy, for he had nothing to guide him, and some considerable +space of time had elapsed before, utterly worn out and disheartened, he +made out a clump of trees, towards which he now directed his steps in +the hope that it might be the one in which the chariot had been +entangled. + +To his great delight, as he approached, he heard the voice of the driver +talking to the horses, and, hurrying on, he found that he was +approaching the chariot from the opposite side to that he had left. The +next minute he was tugging his sword from its sheath, for an armed man +suddenly rose up from just in front, and as the boy's sword fell to his +side, caught him in his arms. + +"And I thought you were dead--I thought you were dead!" came in a +familiar, deep, gruff voice, broken by sobs. "Oh, Marcus, my boy, where +have you been?" + +"Looking for you, Serge." + +"You have? Well, that's what I have been doing for you." + +"But where were you?" cried Marcus. + +"I d'know, boy, only that I have been fighting. I was hard at it when +there was a rush, and I was carried along with all the rest, getting a +hit now and then at one of the enemy, but not often, for they don't +fight fair. They all crowd at you together, and I got the worst of it +badly." + +"Then you are wounded?" cried Marcus. "No, boy; but I lost my spear." + +"Lost your spear?" cried Marcus, staring. "Yes, boy; this 'ere's only a +savage one." + +"But you are not hurt?" cried Marcus again. + +"Not hurt?" cried Serge. "Why, boy, I just am. Battered and banged and +hit all over. If it hadn't been for the goodness of my armour there +wouldn't have been no Serge--nothing left but a few bits. But you, my +boy?" + +"Oh, I'm very sore and bruised and sprained, but nothing worse. But +that officer, Serge, that we went to help?" + +"Ah!" cried Serge. "That officer we went to help! What about him? You +didn't let him be killed, boy?" + +"No; I remember he got up and fought again." + +"That's right, boy; but where is he now?" + +"I don't know," cried Marcus. "I was trampled down and lost my senses. +Don't you know what became of him?" + +"No," said Serge, "and I don't care, boy now that I have found you. +Here, don't let's stand talking, but help to get out that chariot. I +want to get up to the Roman camp." + +"Can we? Did our people win?" + +"Win? Why, of course, my lad! Romans never fail." + +"Quick, then!" cried Marcus. "The chariot, and then up to the camp. +There's the message; and let's hope my father's there." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. + +THE GENERAL'S TENT. + +The driver's face lit up as he saw Marcus and Serge come to his help, +for the battle was as nothing to him compared to the state of the +chariot and horses; and he eagerly set to work over the extraction of +the vehicle, which, though splintered and battered, was not much the +worse for the accident, and was soon dragged out from where it had been +wedged close to the spot where the horses, now quit calmed, had settled +down to browse upon the grass, which grew in abundance outside the clump +of trees. + +It was the harness which had fared the worst, but the driver and Serge +were both pretty handy, and by the time the day dawned tying and lacing +had done their work, so that, excepting appearance, the ropes, straps +and thongs were as good as ever, and, tired and anxious, Marcus hurried +his companions into the chariot to start for the camp. + +Guessing at the direction where the slope led, they had just started +when they were encountered by a minor officer at the head of a party of +men, who looked hard at them and accosted them with: + +"Have you seen anything of an overturned chariot in a clump of trees?" + +"Yes," said Marcus, smiling. + +"Which way?" cried the officer, who looked surprised at Marcus' way of +receiving the question. + +"Straight down that slope," said Marcus. "You can almost see the trees +from here." + +The officer nodded his thanks and was turning away, but Marcus stopped +him by saying: + +"The chariot is not there now." + +"Not there?" + +"No; this is it." + +"Ah!" cried the officer, eagerly. "Then you are the youth and this is +the man I want." + +"What for?" asked Marcus, flushing slightly. + +"Oh, you'll know soon enough. My chief has sent me to find you. It is +for something that took place in the fight last night." + +"Something that took place in the fight last night?" faltered Marcus, +wearily. "But tell me, did the Romans win the battle?" + +"Oh, yes, of course; but don't stop to talk. I must make haste back. +You haven't been murdering and plundering the people, have you?" + +"No, of course not," cried Marcus, sharply. + +"So much the better for you," said the officer, shortly. "Come along." + +He gave orders to some of his men to form up behind the chariot, and +with the rest he placed himself in front, and gave the order to march, +leading off at once to the left of the route in which the chariot had +been moving when it was stopped. + +"Why, anyone would think that we were prisoners," said Marcus, who felt +annoyed, but, satisfied that they were being taken to the camp, he +thought of his message and was content. He, however, reached over the +front of the chariot and called to the young officer, asking who was in +command of the army. + +The young man looked at him superciliously. + +"What is it to you?" he said, shortly. "Ask the general himself when +you come before him, and then perhaps you will be able to explain why +you who are Romans have come to be fighting on the side of the Gaul." + +"What!" said Marcus. "Do you know that--" + +"Never mind what I know, my lad," said the officer, shortly, "and don't +speak to me again in that free off-hand tone. Please to understand that +I am an officer and you a prisoner. Forward, and mind this: any attempt +to escape will be followed by a shower of spears." + +"Thanks," said Marcus, sarcastically; and he turned to Serge. + +"I shall not tell him why we have come," he said, with his face of a +deeper red than before. + +"That's right, boy," growled Serge. "We don't want him to be civil; all +we want is for him to take us to the general. You can tell him why we +have come." + +They were ascending a slope that grew more and more steep, and the +morning would have seemed beautiful to Marcus, whose heart beat high at +the prospect of being able to deliver his message to the general in +command, whoever it might be; but the beauty of the scene and the +approaching sunrise were marred by the traces left by the battle, which +they were constantly passing: the dead here, wounded men waiting for +help there; the trampled and stained earth everywhere. It was a +pleasant relief when the top of the hill they were ascending had been +reached, though it showed no trace of any camp till the descending slope +came into view, and then the adventurers found that they had to cross a +valley, beyond which, with the trench and banks showing in rich brown +tints gilded by the rays of the rising sun, was the Roman camp, with its +few tents and moving columns of men passing up the flanks of the steep +hill upon which it stood, evidently returning in regular order from the +pursuit of the scattered foes who had resisted the attack upon the +invader during the past night. + +In his eagerness Marcus gave an order to the driver for the chariot to +advance down the slope and cross the valley at a trot; but the officer +turned upon him angrily, and ordered two of his spear-armed men to take +the ponies by the rein, and in this fashion Marcus and his companion +were led right to the centre of the camp before one of the tents, up to +whose entrance the officer marched, spoke to another who was on guard, +and then entered. + +"Got all you want to say ready?" whispered Serge. + +"Yes," whispered back Marcus. "Oh, if he would only be quick! This is +all wasting time." + +The young officer was quick enough, for he returned directly, and his +manner seemed changed as he stepped up to the chariot. + +"Follow me, sir," he said. "The generals will see you directly." + +Marcus' heart beat quicker than ever now, as he sprang from the chariot, +wincing slightly from his stiffness, while Serge limped and screwed up +his face as he strove in vain to hold himself erect. + +It was bright with the early sunshine outside the tent, where Marcus now +found himself face to face with a stern-looking man in the dress of a +general, who sat with his hand resting upon his helmet. + +But he was not alone, for another officer was lying upon a rough couch, +evidently, from his bandaged head, wounded; but he was fully dressed, +and his helmet and sword were upon the rolled-up cloak at the side of +his averted head. + +"You are welcome," began the sitting general, warmly. "I have sent for +you to give you the thanks of my injured friend, whose life--Why, what +is this! My severe young friend Marcus here!" + +"What!" came from the couch, and its occupant sprang into a sitting +position. + +"Father!" cried Marcus, and Serge, who had doffed his helmet, now in his +astonishment let it fall upon the skins which covered the ground with a +heavy thud. + +As Marcus spoke he ran to his father's side and sank down upon one knee +to gaze anxiously in his face. + +"Are you much hurt?" he said, hoarsely. + +"No, no, not much, my boy," said Cracis; "but in the excitement I did +not know you, Marcus. Oh, it seems impossible that you could have been +my preserver!" + +"It was more Serge than I, father," cried Marcus, quickly. + +"Nay, nay, nay!" growled the old soldier, in his hoarsest tones. "Speak +the truth, boy." + +"That is the truth," cried Marcus, quickly. + +"I helped, of course, but it was him, master, who made that cut at the +Gaul's spear and knocked him over. But we neither of us knew that it +was you." + +"But you, Marcus, my boy," said Cracis, as he gazed wonderingly in his +son's face, while Caius Julius watched them both in turn--"you knew me, +of course?" + +"No, father," replied Marcus, whose face was scarlet now with +excitement. "I only saw that it was a Roman officer." + +"And you dashed at once to his help," said Caius Julius, smiling. +"Well, it was a brave act then, while now I scarcely know what to call +it. Why, Marcus, you must feel very proud of what you have done." + +"Stop!" cried the boy, quickly, eager to end the words of praise and +compliment. + +"Yes, stop," said Cracis, sternly. "You here, Marcus, in a soldier's +armour, and Serge as well! Is this the way my commands are obeyed? Why +are you here?" + +"To bring the message of the general commanding the rear-guard, father. +He is shut in on the snowy pass that crosses the mountain, and held +there by many times his number of the enemy; and he sent me and Serge to +the army here to ask for help." + +"He sent you, boy?" cried Cracis, quickly. + +"Yes, father," replied Marcus, "and I was to say that at all cost he +would hold out till help was sent." + +"Help shall be sent at once," said Cracis, firmly; "or better still, +Julius," he continued, "our work being so far completed, with +yesterday's victory, we will march to his help ourselves." + +Caius Julius bent his head without saying a word, and then sat back in +his seat, attentively watching father and son. + +"But your message did not answer my question, boy," said Cracis, coldly. +"Marcus, my son, how came it that you were with the little army that at +my orders was to follow in our wake, crushing down the Gauls who would +be sure to gather after we had passed? Speak out, sire: how came you +there?" + +"I could not bear it, father: something seemed to tell me that you would +be in danger, and I followed you to Rome, and then on here." + +"Then you disobeyed my commands, boy," said Cracis, sternly; and Marcus +sank upon his other knee, clasped his hands, and held them out before +him. Closing his eyes then he threw back his head and was silent while +one might have slowly counted ten. Then in a low, distinct tone, full +of sorrow and despair, he said slowly: + +"Yes, father; I disobeyed your command." + +"And you, Serge, my old and trusted servant, old soldier though you +were," continued Cracis, in tones that sounded icy, "as soon as my back +was turned you plotted with my son to follow me and forsake your post." + +"Nay, master," cried Serge, quickly; "there was no plotting. I deserted +first." + +"Hah!" ejaculated Caius Julius again, and his clearly-cut face looked as +if it were formed of marble. + +"Worse and worse," cried Cracis, angrily. "Then you set the example +which my weak son followed?" + +"No, father," cried Marcus, quickly; "I did not know that Serge had +gone." + +"Ah!" said Cracis, quickly. "What excuse have you to make, sir, for +deserting your post?" + +"I didn't, master," cried the old soldier, stoutly. "I didn't desert my +post. My post was where I was last night, at my master's side. It was +my post that deserted me." + +"What!" cried Cracis, angrily. "Insolent!" + +"Nay, master," cried the old soldier; "I'm as humble as young Marcus +there, and I'd kneel down just the same as he's a-doing now, but them +Gauls knocked me about so in the fight that my legs won't bend. Look +here, master; I couldn't help it. I was just like the boy there; I felt +somehow that you'd want your old follower's help, and I was obliged to +come and join you. You see, we came together, and reached you just in +time." + +"You disobeyed my commands, Serge," said Cracis, speaking as if deaf to +his old follower's appealing words. "You too, my son; but the words of +both tell of the repentance in your breasts. Prove, then, by your next +acts that you are willing to make amends. Silence! Do not speak, but +act. The horrors and bloodshed of this campaign are not for my son and +servant. You, Serge, do your duty as guardian--you, Marcus, yours, in +obedience at once. Back home at once, and I will forgive." + +"And leave you now, father, wounded, amidst all these perils?" cried +Marcus, wildly. "I cannot! I would sooner die!" + +Cracis started angrily to his feet and tore the bandage from his head, +as at that moment two officers advanced as if to receive commands. + +"You hear me, Marcus?" he cried, sternly. "You hear me, Serge?" + +"Yes, master," said the old soldier, slowly, and making an effort with +his bruised and stiffened limb, he slowly passed his hand across to his +left side and drew his short, heavy sword, passed the hilt into his left +so that he could clasp the blade with his right, and in that way held it +out to Cracis as he went on speaking: "I disobeyed you once, master, and +that's enough for a Roman soldier. Take hold. I've kept it as sharp as +it was in the old days when I followed you to victory, ready to die for +you, master, as I am this day, for I can't live to disobey you again. +Take it, I say, master, and let me die at once; better that you should +cut me down than that I should myself fall upon my sword, for that has +always seemed to me a coward's death." + +"Stop, Serge!" cried Marcus, passionately, and he laid his hand upon his +old comrade's blade. "I am a Roman, if only a boy, and I have the right +to appeal." + +Turning to Caius Julius, he cried: + +"You refused me once, sir, when I appealed to you, saying that I was but +a weak unseasoned boy--not in those words, but that is what you meant." + +Caius Julius gravely bent his head, and fixed his keen, glittering eyes +upon the speaker, who went on: + +"Since then I have tried hard to prove myself worthy to bear the arms I +was taught by an old soldier to use." + +The general bowed his head slowly once again. + +"Then help me, sir. It is from no desire to disobey, but I feel that I +cannot leave my father now. Forgive me, father. I cannot obey you. +Forgive me, too, for this appeal." + +"Yes," said Caius Julius, rising from his seat and taking a step or two +forward. "You both disobeyed, and came here bearers of an important +despatch which means more than you, boy, can imagine, in time to save a +father's and a master's life. Serge, old comrade," he continued, laying +his hand upon the unsheathed sword, "keep your blade for our enemies. +If it prove necessary I will kneel for you to my oldest friend and ask +his forgiveness for you and my brave young soldier here. Boy," he +continued, "you have confessed your fault as your father's son, but +since he left you, a simple scholar, you have become a soldier and +bravely done your duty in your country's cause. Cracis, my brother +general, I grant your son's appeal. Endorse it, man, for a fault so +frankly acknowledged is half atoned." + +"I must have obedience," said Cracis, coldly, "not defiance, at a time +like this." + +"I feel with you, old friend," said Caius Julius, slowly, "but your +wounds have fevered you, and it has not been cool, calculating Cracis +who has spoken, but the angry, offended general. Brother, you desire +that your old servant and your son should return home at once?" + +"Yes," said Cracis, speaking faintly now. + +"How?" said Caius Julius, quickly. "Alone, to fight their way through +the thousands of half conquered Gauls who will bar their way to the pass +where the great captain is waiting for help?" + +Cracis looked wildly at his brother in arms, and then slowly turned his +eyes upon his son--eyes that had flashed but a short time before, but +which now softened into a look of loving pride, as he slowly sank back +insensible upon his rough pillow, Marcus darting to his side. + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. + +"MY OWN BRAVE BOY!" + +The speech Cracis made when he recovered from the fainting fit brought +on by emotion when he was weak and prostrate from his wounds, and found +Marcus by his side bathing his face, was very short, setting the boy's +heart at rest and telling him that the past was entirely forgiven; and +the stern Roman judge merged once more in the loving father. For the +speech was this: + +"My own brave boy!" + +"Ah!" cried Caius Julius, who had just hurried back, after having been +away for a very brief time giving the orders which had set the whole +camp in motion. "This is bad for you, Cracis, for we start at once +straight for the pass, and as fast as we can go. Do you think you will +be able to sit a horse?" + +"I will," said Cracis, firmly. "Yes, I am better now. My wounds are +mere scratches, and once I get to-day and to-night over I shall be +nearly myself again." + +"Nearly," said Caius Julius, with a smile. "Well, we shall see. What +do you say, nurse?" + +Marcus flushed up at the term by which he was addressed. + +"If my father says he will do a thing he will," cried the boy. + +"No doubt," said the general; "but do you feel well enough to give me +your counsel and make any suggestions about our return?" + +"Yes, certainly," was the reply. "First, then, tell me if you are fully +aware of our position." + +"Yes," said Julius, "we have scattered the Gauls in every direction, and +as soon as we start they will take it for granted that we are so +disheartened that we are hurrying back through the country in full +retreat, and they will begin to flow back upon us like a great tide, +fiercer and more venturesome than ever." + +"That is enough," said Cracis. "I ought to have known your feelings, +but nearly helpless as I am, I was afraid that last triumph would make +you over confident, and that our followers would take their cue from +their leader and become careless at a time when our position will be +more hazardous than ever." + +"Trust me, Cracis; I shall be ready for the enemy at any moment. Now, +Marcus, can I leave your father in your charge?" + +"No," said Cracis, before the boy could speak, "I am not going to be a +burden to our men and join the train of litters and our wounded. My son +Marcus and his old follower, Serge, will join one of the cohorts, and +you will place him where I am sure he would like to be as his father's +son." + +"And that is--?" said Caius Julius. + +"Where would you like to be, my boy?" + +Marcus flushed deeper than ever as he replied: + +"Serge always taught me, father, that the place of honour was in the +front." + +That morning, as the army moved off in perfect order from their camp +upon the hill, a message came to where Marcus was marching on one side +of his father's horse, Serge limping stiffly along on the other, that +the boy was to come forward to join his cohort at once, by the general's +orders; and Marcus started upon seeing that the messenger, at the head +of ten stern-looking veterans, was the young officer who had fetched him +to the general's tent. + +There was a brief and soldierly leave-taking, and then Marcus was +hurrying forward with his guide, who began at once to falter out +hurriedly his apologies for his former treatment of the boy. + +"I didn't know," he said. "I couldn't tell who you were. I thought you +were to be a prisoner brought in as a traitorous Roman who had been +fighting on the enemy's side." + +"Don't say a word more," cried Marcus, holding out his hand, and, the +best of friends directly, the young officer began to tell him how all +that he had done was known in the cohort, and how proud the men were to +have Cracis' son appointed to join their ranks. + +"Ah," said Serge, as soon as he could get an opportunity to speak to +Marcus alone, "do you see how I am marching now, my lad?" + +"Oh, I have been watching you all the way," cried Marcus, "and pitying +you." + +"What!" growled the old soldier. + +"You seemed so lame and in such pain. I don't know what has become of +our chariot, but as that's gone you ought to be in one of the litters +carried by the slaves." + +"Wha-a-at!" growled the old soldier, making the interjection as long in +its utterance as half a dozen six-syllabled words. "Well, I do call +this hard! The knocking about you have had must have got into your +head, my lad, and upset your eyes. Why, you can't see a bit!" + +"What do you mean?" cried Marcus. + +"Why, this, boy. When I began to march after that young cockerel had +brought the orders, I was so stiff that I could hardly put one leg +before the other; but the very news of you being appointed to take your +place in one of the leading cohorts of the army has acted like salve, +and all my stiffness is as good as gone. Carried in a litter by slaves! +Me! Do I look the sort of fellow who wants carrying in a litter like a +sick woman? Bah! Why, before we get far on the march we shall have the +enemy closing in on all sides, and the fight beginning." + +"Think so, Serge?" + +"Yes, my boy. We have got our work cut out, for they'll never believe +till it's knocked into them that we are not making a retreat. Me in a +litter!" he growled. "Just you wait a bit, and I shall be showing that +I have got a little fighting left in me." + +Serge proved his words the very next day, when, after many hours' +marching painfully in the ranks, pretty close to where his young master +had been appointed a junior officer, and been received by the men with +cheers, a desperate attack was made upon this, the advance guard, by a +perfect crowd of fierce Gallic warriors made up of the scattered +remnants of the beaten army, who came down upon the marching cohort like +the sea upon some massive rock. So fierce was the onslaught that though +the Roman ranks remained comparatively unbroken, they were pressed back +by the sheer weight of their enemies, but only to recoil, and as they +advanced to recover their lost ground, it was over the bodies of some of +their wounded men, and to Marcus' horror he found himself once more +called upon to dash forward to another's help. This time, however, it +was not blindly and in the dusk, for a shiver of dread ran through him, +knowing how crippled his old companion was, when he saw that Serge was +one of those who had been unable to keep his place in the rank when the +Romans were driven back, and that now he was defending himself and +striving to hold his own against the attack of three of the Gauls. +Tearing off his helmet, as if it were an incumbrance, and making his +short sword flash through the air, Marcus rushed to his old companion's +help, but too late to save him being hurled heavily to the ground, +while, ready as he was to contend against ordinary weapons, this +barbaric method of attack confused and puzzled him. One of his +half-nude enemies made as if to flinch from a coming blow, and then +sprang up, hurling something through the air, and in an instant the boy +found himself entangled in the long cord of strips of hide, which was +dragged tight above his arms and crippled the blow he would have struck, +while as he was jerked round the Gaul's companions flung themselves upon +his back, and for the moment he was prisoner in his turn. + +The struggle that followed was brief, for the blade Marcus wielded was +that in which old Serge had taken pride, feeling as he did that his +master's son should be armed with a weapon that was keenest of the keen. +Fortunately, too, the aim of the enemy was to make a prisoner of the +well-caparisoned young Roman, and not a slay, so that Marcus, in spite +of the way in which his arms were dragged to his side, was able to turn +the point of his sword upward, and give one thrust between the cord and +his breast, when the rope parted like tinder upon the razor-like edge, +and his enemies started back from the sweep of the terrible blade he +whirled above his head. + +Staggered for the moment, they were preparing for a fresh attack when +Serge, uttering a deep growl like a wounded lion, sprang to his feet, +after snatching his sword from where it lay. + +That was enough for the three Gauls, who turned at once and fled, for a +rank of the Roman soldiers was advancing, and as they closed up, Marcus +and Serge were free to take their places in the line once more as if +nothing had happened, and the advance guard steadily pressed on. + +There was a fortnight's hard fighting carried on day by day, with a +succession of halts for the formation of camps in the strongest +positions that offered themselves as havens of refuge against a teeming +enemy which refused to be crushed and constantly swarmed round the +retiring Roman army, perfectly reckless of life, and apparently content +with the smallest advantages that they could gain. + +Rolled back one day by a Roman charge, the Gauls gathered together again +during the night to attack and harass the retiring troops; but all was +in vain, for step by step Caius Julius carried all before him, and the +help that Marcus had been sent to seek gradually drew nearer to the +beleaguered force till one morning, as the army came into position to +continue its march, Marcus was passing along the ranks and halted by +Serge, who eagerly drew his attention to the glittering snow upon the +mountains a mile or two in front. + +"See that?" he cried. "Why, before long we shall reach that stream and +be marching into that great hollow among the mountains where we stopped +that day with the chariot to see our general lead his men up into the +pass. Why, to-night we ought to be camping there amongst the snows; and +a nice change too, my boy, for its been rather hot work for about a +fortnight now." + +"Yes," said Marcus, quietly; "but according to the tidings the scouts +have been bringing in all through the night, the Gauls are swarming in +that great amphitheatre between here and the pass, and all promises for +the biggest fight that the army has yet had." + +Serge took off his helmet and rubbed one ear thoughtfully, as he gazed +straight before him in the direction of the pass. + +"Well," he said, slowly, "I shouldn't wonder if such a fight did come +off, and if it does it will be hard and fierce. I shouldn't wonder if +it is what your father means. That used to be the way we went on: he +planned where the fight was to be, and Caius Julius went on and won. I +remember every bit of that amphitheatre place, and what a death trap it +seemed. You know the captain would not stay in it when the Gauls had +surrounded him, but left the way clear for us to go for the help we've +brought, and led his force right up into the pass so as to make the +enemy follow him. Now our generals are scheming to get the Gauls, who +have kept on attacking us front, rear and flanks, right into that +amphitheatre of a place in the mountains, where they mean, so it seems, +to make a stand and stop our getting up by the pass--for that's what +they think we mean to do--so as to join forces with him who is holding +it still." + +"But is he holding it still?" said Marcus. "The scouts that were sent +out last night as soon as it was dark have not yet returned." + +"Yes they have," said Serge, quickly. "I saw them come back an hour +ago, and make for the general's headquarters." + +Serge was right, for one of his comrades had heard the result of their +investigation, the news they brought back being that their leader was +still holding the pass, and, what was more, he was well supplied with +provisions, for the country people on the farther slope, realising the +strength of the Roman general's position, had judged it best to accept +the conquest, and, making friends, had kept up an ample supply of food, +so that the little force which kept the gateway into Gaul and commanded +the approaches on either side, had had no greater difficulties to +contend with than an occasional attack on the part of the enemy. + +This being made known to Serge, he laughed softly. + +"There, you'll see how our generals will carry to-day's work out, my +lad. That's it: Cracis has calculated upon its being like this, and +this place will be instead of a retreat a masterly scheme which will end +this war." + +"How?" said Marcus. + +"How? Why, in the way your father has arranged. You'll see that when +we advance the general will throw out two wings to secure the little +hollows by which the Gauls have been advancing, till he has got round +them, and then, and then only, he will advance his centre. Do you see?" + +"Not quite," said Marcus, "though I am trying to follow you." + +"Well, I should have thought you would have been soldier enough to have +seen what would follow." + +"A desperate fight?" said Marcus. + +"Most likely, boy; but don't you see what will happen then?" + +"A horrible slaughter, Serge," said Marcus, excitedly. + +"Perhaps, boy, but it may happen that when the enemy finds how he has +been out-manoeuvred and that he is trapped he may surrender." + +"But everything has proved that the enemy is too stubborn for that." + +"He has never been in such a fix as this yet, my boy." + +"But he has equal chances with us, Serge, and may fight to the last and +drive us back." + +"Not when he finds out the truth." + +"That our men are better disciplined than his?" + +"No, boy; he must have found that out long ago. Not that, but that, as +I said before, he has been completely out-manoeuvred by your father." + +"Well, you said that before, Serge," said Marcus, impatiently; "but I +don't see matters as you do, though I have tried very hard." + +"Then you ought to have seen," cried the old soldier, gruffly. "The +captain is still holding the pass, isn't he?" + +"Yes, we have heard so." + +"Well, boy, knowing him, do you think he will go on holding it without +doing anything when we advance and close the enemy in more and more?" + +"Ah! I see now!" cried Marcus, eagerly. "He will come down from the +pass with his men, and attack the Gauls in the rear." + +"To be sure he will, and do the greater part of the fighting and driving +the enemy on to our troops. Why, in a very short time, as I see it, I +mean after the attack, half their men will be prisoners, for no matter +how clever the Gaul general may be he is bound to give up or have his +forces cut down to a man." + +"Yes," said Marcus, eagerly. + +"Just you take warning, then, boy, by this day's work: never you, when +you grow up to be a general with an army at your command, never you let +yourself be driven into a hole like this where you may be caught between +two fires." + +"I never will if I can help it," said Marcus, smiling. + +"Forewarned is forearmed, boy. You know now." + +"Yes, Serge; but I am anxious to see what this afternoon brings forth." + +"Not much but a little marching and counter marching to get things quite +exact and to the satisfaction of our generals. I expect this battle +will be fought out before night." + + + +CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. + +AFTER THE BATTLE. + +Serge was right. The weather was glorious; the hot sun blazed down; but +the heat was tempered by the gentle breeze which wafted its coolness +from the snowy pass. + +To one ignorant of the horrors that lurked behind, it was one grand +display of armed men, with their armour glittering and standards on +high, marching in different bodies as if to take part in some glorious +pageant to be held in the mighty, rugged amphitheatre whose walls were +mountains and whose background was formed by the piled-up masses of ice +and snow, here silvery, there dazzling golden in the blaze of the +afternoon sun, and farther back beauteous with the various azure tints, +from the faintest tinge to the deepest purple, in the rifts and chasms +far on high. + +There was a grim meaning behind it all as the troops under the command +of Caius Julius swept round by slow degrees to seize upon and hold the +different little valleys leading into the amphitheatre, and all in a +slow orderly fashion suggesting merely change of position, and as if +collision with the Gallic force was the last thing likely to occur. + +For as the Roman soldiery gradually advanced as if the distant pass were +the object they held in view, ready for pressing through it in one long +extended column, the barbarian troops gradually fell back, to form +themselves into one vast dam whose object it was to check the Roman +human river and roll it back broken and dismembered, ready for final +destruction in the plains they had invaded. + +There were moments when, as he stood beside the line of stalwart men +with whom he had been placed, Marcus' thoughts were wholly upon the +scene of which, from high up on a slope of one of the valleys, he had a +most comprehensive view; and he too was ready to forget what was behind, +as for an hour he watched and waited, until as if by magic the marching +and changing of position of the thousands before his eyes had ceased. + +It was evening then, with the sun sinking behind the hills in the rear +of the now concentrated Roman army, while the Gauls who filled the +amphitheatre and faced them were lit up, and their armour and weapons +blazed as if turned to fire by the orange glow which rose and filled the +mountain hollows and the pass beyond with its ever-deepening reddening +haze. + +Naturally enough Marcus took his stand close by Serge, who seemed to +have quite recovered from the injuries which he had received, and stood +up bronzed and sturdy, with his face lit up with the expectancy of one +whose training taught him to foresee a triumph for the Roman arms. + +"Are we all ready, Serge?" said Marcus, in a low voice. + +"Yes, boy. Isn't it grand! Take the lesson to heart. You will +understand it better later on, for it's too much for one so young as you +to take in all at once. Look how our generals have placed their men, +with never a bit of confusion from beginning to end, and all ready when +the trumpets sound to advance and strike, while these Gauls, crowded up +together into this great trap, don't even know as yet that their numbers +will be worse than nothing, only a big crowd in which every man will be +in his neighbour's way." + +"But suppose they stand fast," said Marcus, "instead of giving way?" + +"We shall march over them, boy, straight for the pass. Nothing can stop +our advance. One of our lines may go down, but another will step into +its place, and if that is broken there is another close behind, and +another and another, each of which must weaken the resistance and pave +the way for our army to pass on." + +"Don't say pave the way, Serge. It sounds too horrible, and makes me +think of what it means." + +"Don't think, then, boy." + +"I must," replied Marcus; "but it will be dreadful for the first cohort +which leads." + +"Grand, you mean, boy," cried the veteran, "and you ought to be proud, +for it is ours." + +"I don't see any signs of the captain's coming to meet us." + +"In hiding perhaps," said Serge. "He's certain to be there. He will +not let his men show themselves until we advance, and he has not stirred +as yet." + +"How do you know?" + +"Look at the barbarians," cried the old soldier, pointing to the distant +crowd far up the slope. "They would be showing it by now if he were +coming on." + +"It is getting late," said Marcus, after a pause. + +"Yes," replied Serge, "and if I were in command I should be here to +begin leading on my men. Think of that now," he whispered, sharply. +"Here he is!" + +"Who? My father?" + +"No, boy. He'd be in the rear upon one of these hills, directing the +advance of the legions, where he can look over the whole amphitheatre." + +No more was said, for a thrill seemed to be running through the long +serried line of veterans extending to right and left, as, followed by a +group of his principal officers, Caius Julius rode close up to his +leading cohort, gave the order to advance, and turned his horse to ride +in front and lead. + +Then as the heavy tramp of the armed men rang out and the advance with +shield joined to shield moved on over the stony ground, there was a roar +like distant thunder which rose and rolled and reverberated from the +rocks around, as the Gauls in one vast mass flashed forward to meet them +and sweep the van of the Roman army away. + +The deep thunderous sound as of a storm was awe-inspiring enough to +daunt the stoutest, but it had no effect upon the Roman warriors who +steadily advanced close to the heels of their leaders' horses; and once +more with his heart beating fast the while, it all seemed to Marcus like +some grand pageant in which he was honoured by being allowed to play his +little part. + +Fate had placed his rank almost within touch of their general, who rode +calmly, probably anticipating that the wild charge of Gauls as they came +tearing on would never be carried home, and that the enemy would melt +away to right and left before the steady pressure of that rank upon rank +of unbroken shields bristling with sword and spear. + +But the general was deceived. The wild barbarian charge of +undisciplined Gallic warriors was carried home. Borne on by their own +impetuosity, and pressed forward by the crowd behind, the enemy came on +with a wild rush, and then came the clashing arms, the roar of the +fierce multitude. Then as the steady stride of the line of Roman +veterans was checked in the awful shock, Marcus was conscious of the +struggles of a charger which reared up, fighting fiercely with its hoofs +against the enemy which hemmed him in, and then of its sidewise fall, to +lie upon its flank, plunging feebly in its efforts to rise, before lying +prone and motionless with half a dozen spear thrusts in its breast and +throat. + +Marcus was conscious of striking out fiercely with his keen, short +sword, and of the pressure on both sides amidst the roar and rush of the +fight in which he was taking part. But all seemed wild and confused, as +he stood with one foot planted on the fallen horse's side, the other on +the rock, holding his shield the while in front of the fallen rider, who +was striving vainly to free himself from the weight of the charger which +pinned him down. + +It seemed to be some long space of time, all horror and death, during +which men fought and heaved and swayed, sometimes beaten back a few +feet, then recovering themselves, regaining the lost ground, and +pressing on, till in regular rhythmic pulsation rank after rank of +warriors tramped on, opening out as they reached the group of dead and +wounded men whose core was the spear-slain horse. But in fact it was +but a matter of minutes before the pressure ceased as the ranks passed +on and a big, heavy-looking man came up, and by signs--for no voice +could make itself heard--seemed to be urging other men to seize and drag +the dead horse off the prisoned officer, who was saving himself from +falling prone, possibly to be trampled to death by the advancing ranks, +by clasping his hands round Marcus' waist as he still stood over him +with ready sword and shield. + +The start having been made, there were willing hands in plenty to drag +the horse away, and its rider stood up, holding on by Marcus' arms, as +once more a wave of the enemy seemed to rise up out of the tumultuous +sea of carnage, sweeping between the two Romans and their friends, the +former being left to face the bristling spears of the Gauls, and death +appearing inevitable for Marcus and the officer he had saved. + +The boy was borne back by half a score of the hirsute semi-savages, +leaving his companion standing erect with nothing to defend himself but +his clenched hand, when, half maddened by the scene, Marcus uttered a +wild cry, recovered himself, and dashed forward to the rescue, +staggering the foe with astonishment by the fierceness of his onslaught, +as he literally hurled himself between the officer and his fate, the +upraised shield turning aside the spears gliding with deadly aim toward +his throat. + +At that moment the deadly wave of destruction was checked in its onward +sweep by the rebound of a line of Roman veterans, the Gauls fell back, +and the officer drew himself up panting and waving one arm on high, when +a couple of officers rode up, one of whom dismounted and held his +stirrup, when, without a word, the companion of Marcus in peril sprang +upon the charger's back and dashed forward, the late rider holding on by +the mane. + +"Well done, boy! Grand!" was shouted in Marcus' ear, as he stood there +wondering whether it was all real, that noise of men tramping by, the +clash of arms, and the roar as of muttering thunder ahead, and not some +horrible dream in which, faint and sick, everything was whirling slowly +round. + +"That you, Serge?" someone said, for they did not seem to be his words. + +"Yes, boy; grand, but we ought to be along with our cohort, and it's far +ahead, so we must join the ranks of one of these that are going by." + +"Are we losing?" said Marcus, faintly, and still it was as if someone +else was speaking. + +"Losing!" cried the old soldier. "Winning, you mean. But think of you +having such luck as that!" + +"Luck?--Luck?" said the same voice, slowly. + +"Yes, I never saw anything like you. Sprang forward, you did, just as +the general's horse reared up, and saved him from an ugly death by the +thrust you gave that Gaul." + +"Who did?" said the same voice, feebly heard in the horrible dream. + +"Who did? Why, you did, and covered him afterwards with your shield all +the while he was pinned down by his dead charger. Why, Marcus, boy, if +you were a man you'd be made a big officer at once. But what's the +matter with you, boy?" + +"I--I don't know, Serge." + +"But I do!" roared the old soldier, with a roar like a lion. "Why, who +did this?" + +"That--that Gaul," said the boy, faintly, as he felt himself seized and +pressed back, to lie with his head pillowed upon the dead charger's +neck, while he was conscious of his old comrade's hands being busily +unbuckling his armour and then bandaging him tightly to stop the flowing +blood. + +"Feel better now, boy?" cried Serge, at last, as he bent down close to +the wounded lad's face. + +"Yes; not so sick," was the reply. "But tell me, Serge, about the +fight," and as Marcus uttered these words he was conscious that they +were his own. + +"Tell you about the fight? Ah, that's a sign you are better. A nasty +cut, my boy, between the shoulder and the neck. But it's nothing to +hurt." + +"But it does, Serge." + +"Pooh! Only smarts. It hasn't killed you. Soldiers expect wounds, and +you've got yours." + +"But the fight--the fight?" + +"Oh, just what I told you it would be, boy. The captain has brought his +men down the pass, and the Gauls, taken between the two armies, are +breaking up and streaming away to right and left. There'll be no Gallic +army by the time the litters come to carry the wounded off the field, +and the first shall be for the lad who saved the life of Caius Julius." + +"Oh, Serge, it is impossible that I could have done that," said Marcus, +feebly. + +"That's what I should have said, boy, if I had not seen." + +"But, Serge?" + +"I look out sharp, boy, so don't doubt what I say. Your wound made you +forget. I wonder whether the general will." + +"But you don't tell me about the fight, Serge." + +"What, do you want to know more?" + +"Of course." + +"Well, the Gauls are taken in a trap, and after all is over I hope that +one of those snowstorms will come down from the pass to cover all that +the amphitheatre will have to show. It's terrible work, my boy." + +"Horrible! Horrible indeed!" sighed Marcus, as he looked sadly round at +the traces of the fight that had taken place about the fallen horse. + +"Yes, my lad, I can't help thinking just the same," said the old +soldier, as he stooped to pick up the spear he had laid down while he +bound his young companion's wound, and leaned upon the staff as he gazed +straight away in the direction where the fight seemed to be raging +still. + +And the time passed on, till the tumult died away, and the old soldier +stood watching still and waiting anxiously, while Marcus lay silent in +the troubled sleep that came to dull his pain. + +At last the boy stirred, and Serge bent over him. + +"Awake, boy?" he said. + +"Yes, Serge. Have been asleep?" + +"Yes." + +Marcus gazed around him, and shuddered at the traces of the fight. + +"Horrible!" he sighed. + +"Yes, boy," said the old warrior, gravely; "I suppose it is, in spite of +all the glory and triumph and the like; but," he continued, after a +pause, as he raised his spear, whose head glimmered in the pale light as +he pointed in the direction of the shining crest of one of the mountains +beyond, while far away lay Rome, "our country must rule the world." + +Marcus sighed. + +"And give up the bravest and the best of her sons to fight her cause!" +sighed the old soldier to himself. "But I hope the general won't forget +what even a boy can do." + +Caius Julius did not, for a little later a group of mounted men +appeared, and the faint cheers of the wounded soldiery greeted them as +they passed. + +"It was somewhere near here, Cracis," said one of the party, and then +pointing with his sword, "Ah, it must have been there. Yonder is my +poor horse. Yes, there lies your brave son not dead, for he has raised +and is waving his hand to you. Another great triumph for Rome, Cracis, +but I'd give up all the glory I have won to possess a son like yours." + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Marcus: the Young Centurion, by +George Manville Fenn + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARCUS: THE YOUNG CENTURION *** + +***** This file should be named 21379.txt or 21379.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/3/7/21379/ + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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