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.