"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."