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Marcus: The Young Centurion, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 22. The Chief |
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_ 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. _ |
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