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.