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Marcus: The Young Centurion, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 29. On The Brink |
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_ 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. _ |
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