CHAPTER FIVE.
THE TROUBLE GROWS.
"There!" muttered Serge. "We've done it now!"
"My old arms and weapons! Yours, Serge! And these?--How came you to bepossessed of those, my boy?"
The new-comer pointed, frowning the while, at the boy's weapons, andthen turned his eyes upon Serge, who turned as red as the detected boy,and made signs for him to speak; but, instead of speaking out, Marcussignalled back for his companion to explain.
"I am waiting very patiently for one of you to give me some explanation,though I see plainly enough that I have been disobeyed by you, my son,as well as by my old servant, in whom I thought I could placeconfidence. Marcus, my son, do not disgrace yourself further bybehaving like a coward. Speak out at once and confess."
"Yes, father," cried the boy, making a desperate effort to speak outfrankly. "I want to tell you everything, but it is so hard to do."
"Hard to speak the truth, boy?"
"No, father, I did not mean that. I--I--"
"Well, sir?"
"I've done wrong, father, and I am ashamed of it."
"Hah! Come, that is more like my boy," cried Cracis, very sternly, butwith the frown upon his brow less deeply marked. "There, go on."
"It was like this, father. One day I found Serge cleaning andburnishing the old armour that you and he used to wear."
"Why was this, sir?" cried Cracis sternly to his old servant. "Did Inot tell you that I had given up a warrior's life for ever?"
"Yes, master."
"Did I place any tie upon you? Did I not tell you that you were free toremain in the legion?"
"Yes, master; but how was I to leave you? You know I could not."
"Well, sir, I gave you leave to stay here with me in my country house,but I told you to leave all traces of my former life behind."
"You did, master."
"Is this the way that you obey a master who has always been true to youin his dealings?"
"It's all bad, master," replied the man, "and I tried hard to do myduty, and so I brought the old armour and our swords, and somethingseemed to make me keep everything clean and bright, ready if it shouldbe wanted."
"It never could be wanted by one who was rejected, humbled and disgracedas I was, man. You knew all that took place, and saw me cast down frommy position."
"Yes, master, and my heart bled for you. That's why I came."
"Yes," said Cracis, more gently, "and in my heart, Serge, I thank youfor your fidelity; but my orders were that all traces of our oldposition in the Roman army should be destroyed."
"Yes, master," said the man, humbly, "but they wouldn't destroy. I onlykept them, and cleaned them up now and then when no one was looking; butyou know what young Marcus is: he found me out."
"Yes, father," cried Marcus, excitedly; "don't blame Serge. I made himtalk to me about the past, and he was obliged to tell me all about youbeing such a great friend of Caesar, and how, at last, you went againsthim and he--There, I won't say any more, father, because I can see fromyour face how it hurts you; but I got to know everything, and, when youwere busy reading and writing of an evening, I used to come and sit bythe fire in the winter's nights and make him tell me about the wars andwhat a great general you were; and so, from always loving to hear aboutrights, I loved to hear of the wars and conquests more and more, and--"
"Go on, my son, and keep nothing. I must hear everything now."
"Yes, father; I want to be frank. It was all my doing, for I persuadedand then I ordered Serge to get me sword and armour, and made thearmourer alter a man's breast-plate and helmet to fit me, and--and paidfor it all by degrees; and then I made Serge teach me how to wear thearmour and use the sword and spear and shield; and it was all like that,father."
"And he has taught you all this?" said Cracis, sternly.
"Yes, father. I made him do it; but I did it all as a thoughtless boy."
"And did this old soldier do all as a thoughtless boy," said Cracis,bitterly, "or as my trusted servant?"
"He did it as my servant as well as yours, father," said the boy,proudly. "I told him it was his duty to obey me, his master's son,father, and, poor fellow, he obeyed unwillingly till to-day, when hefelt and I felt, that we had been doing very wrong, that it was allworse than we had ever thought, and this was the last time the teachingwas to go on. Everything was to be put aside, and I was going to workhard at my writing and reading, as you wished, and try to think no moreabout the army and the wars."
Cracis was silent for a few moments, during which he gazed searchinglyat his son.
"Is this the very truth?" he said.
"Every word of it, master!" cried Serge, excitedly. "Tell him, Marcusboy, how it was all by chance you put on your helmet and drew yoursword. I wish now, boy, it had gone through me and made an end of me,before I had to stand up like this and own all my fault."
"What do you mean by that--the sword gone through you, Serge?"
"Yes, father. In my eagerness I made a big thrust at him, and the pointof my sword almost entered his breast."
"Dangerously close?" asked Cracis.
"Horribly close, father, and--there, I am glad you found it all out. Ihave no more to say, father, only that you must punish me, not Serge,and I will bear everything without saying a word."
Cracis was silent for a few minutes, and his voice sounded differentwhen he spoke again.
"Where have these war-like implements been kept?" he said.
"In your big chest, master, made out of the planks cut from the bigchestnut that was hewn down four years ago."
"Place them back there, Serge," said Cracis, gravely. "Fasten them in,and carry the chest and bestow it where it may stand beside my bed."
"But father--" began Marcus.
"Silence, sir!" said Cracis. "I wish to think of all this, and notjudge hastily. Take off those unseemly weapons, which are far fromsuited for my student son. Let this be done at once, Serge. You,Marcus, will follow me to my room, and be there an hour hence. I havemuch to say to you, my boy, very much to say."
Cracis turned thoughtfully away, leaving his son with the old soldier,for them to gaze sadly at one another as the slow steps of the fatherand master died away.
"He'll never forgive us, Marcus, my lad."
"He will forgive us both, Serge," said Marcus quickly; "but what would Inot give if it had never been done!"
"No," said Serge, grimly, "he'll never forgive us."
"Nonsense!" cried Marcus. "You don't know my father as I do."
"Better, a lot, boy. I've fought with him, starved with him, saved hislife; and I'll be fair--he's saved mine more than once. But he's hardas bronze, boy, and when he says a thing he'll never go back."
"And I say he's as good and forgiving as can be, and when all the armourhas been put away as he told you, he'll forget all this trouble, and weshall be as happy again as ever."
"You say that, boy, because you don't know him. I do, and there'snothing left for it but for me to make up my bundle and go off."
"What!" cried Marcus, laughing. "You pack up your bundle and go?"
"Yes, my lad; I can never get over this again. I have been a servantand herdsman here all these years because I felt your father respectedme, but now he don't I feel as if I could never do another stroke ofwork, and I shall go."
"No, you won't, Serge; you are only saying that because you are cross."
"Oh no," said the man, shaking his head, "not cross, boy--wounded. Cutto the heart. I'm only a poor sort of labouring man here and servant,but I have been a soldier, and once a soldier always a soldier at heart,a man who thinks about his honour. Ah, you smile; and it does soundqueer for a man dressed like this and handling a herdsman's crook totalk about his honour; but inside he's just the same man as wore thesoldier's armour and plumed helmet and marched in the ranks, erect andproud, ready to follow his general wherever he led. You wouldn't thinkit strange for a proud-looking man like that to say his honour wastouched.
"
"No," said Marcus, thoughtfully.
"Well, boy, I'm the same man still. I have lost your father'sconfidence, and as soon as I have done putting away of our armour andweapons, as he told me, in the big old chest, I shall pack up and go."
"Shall you take your sword and helmet with you, Serge?" asked the boy.
The man stared, and looked at him sharply, before remaining silent forquite a minute.
"No," he cried, angrily; "I shall take nothing that will bring up thepast. I want to forget it all."
"But what do you mean to do?" said Marcus.
"I don't know yet, boy. Something will happen, I daresay; for we neverknow what's going to take place to-morrow, and I shall leave all that."
The man ceased speaking, and began almost caressingly to straighten andarrange the various pieces of military accoutrement that he had beenburnishing, while Marcus sat leaning forward with his elbows on hisknees, watching him sadly.
"I don't like it, Serge," he said at last.
"Nay, boy, and I don't like it," replied the man. "I said just now wenever know what is going to take place to-morrow. Who would havethought yesterday that things could have been like this to-day? Buthere they are. Hah!" he cried passionately. "I wish I hadn't shrunkaway."
"Shrunk away!" cried Marcus. "Why, you are bigger and stouter than everyou were."
"Pah!" ejaculated the man, angrily. "I don't mean that. I mean shrunkaway as I did just now when you made that thrust at me with the sword."
"What!" cried Marcus. "Why, I should have killed you. That sword pointis so horribly sharp. You don't know what a shudder ran through me whenI saw what I had nearly done."
"Yes, you would have killed me, boy, and that's what I wish you haddone."
"Serge, do you know what you are talking about?" cried Marcus. "Are yougoing mad?"
"Oh yes, I know what I'm talking about, and perhaps I am going mad.What else can you expect of a poor fellow who, all at once, findshimself dishonoured and disgraced?"
"You are not. I tell you I don't believe that my father will ever sayanother word when all the things are put away."
"Yes, because you don't know him, boy. There, it's no use to talk. Ihave made up my mind to go."
"What nonsense!" said Marcus. "When my father as good as said he wasgoing to look over all the past."
"Ah, but that won't do for me, boy. I am dishonoured and disgraced, andI can never hold up my head again."
"Oh, Serge, this comes hard on me," cried the boy, passionately.
"Nay, boy; it's all on my unfortunate head."
"It isn't, Serge," cried Marcus, "for, as I told father, it was all mydoing. It was my stupid vanity and pride. I took it into my head thatI wanted to be a soldier the same as father and you had been, and it hasbrought all this down upon you. I shall never forgive myself as long asI live."
"Nay, but you will, boy, when I'm gone and forgotten."
"Gone and forgotten!" cried Marcus, angrily. "You are not going, andyou couldn't be forgotten. I shall never forget you, Serge, as long asI live."
"Shan't you, boy?" said the man, smiling sadly. "Well, thank ye. Idon't think you will. I like that, boy, for you never seemed like ayoung master to me. I'm old and ugly, while you're young and handsome,but somehow we have always seemed to be companions like, and whateveryou wanted me to do I always did."
"Yes, that you did, Serge," cried Marcus, laughing.
"I don't see nothing to laugh at, boy," said the old soldier, bitterly,as he half drew Marcus' blade from its scabbard, and then thrust itfiercely back with a sharp snap.
"No, but I do," said Marcus, "sad as all this is. It seems so droll."
"What does?" cried the man, fiercely.
"For you to talk about being old and ugly--you, such a big, strong,manly fellow as you are. Why, you are everything that a man ought tobe."
"What!" cried the old soldier, gazing wonderingly at the boy, a puzzledlook in his eyes as if he was in doubt whether the words to which helistened were mocking him.
"Why, look at you! Look at your arms and legs, and the way in which youstep out, and then your strength! The way in which you lift heavythings! Do you remember that day when you took hold of me by the beltand lifted me up, to hold me out at arm's length for ever so long when Iwas in a passion and tried to hit you, and the more I raged the more youheld me out, and laughed, till I came round and thought how stupid I wasto attack such a giant as you, when I was only a poor feeble boy?"
"Nay, nay, you were never a poor feeble boy, but always a fine, sturdylittle chap, and strong for your years, from the very first. That waspartly my training, that was, and the way I made you feed. Don't youremember how I told you that it was always a soldier's duty to be ableto fast, to eat well when he had the chance, and go without well when hehadn't, and rest his teeth?"
"Oh, yes, I recollect you told me it was the way to grow up strong andhearty, and that some day I should be like you."
"Well, wasn't that true enough? Only it takes time. And so you thoughtI was quite a giant, did you?"
"Yes, and so I do now. Old and worn out! What stuff! Why, Serge, Ihave always longed and prayed that I might grow up into a big, strong,fine-looking man like you."
"Thank you, my lad," said the man, sadly, and with the beaming smilethat had come upon his face dying out, to leave it cold and dull. "Thenyou won't forget me, boy, when--" He stopped short, with a suggestion ofmoisture softening his fierce, dark eyes.
"Forget you! You know I shan't. But what do you mean by `when'?"
"When my well-picked, dry bones are lying out somewhere up the mountainside, scattered here and there."
"What!" cried Marcus, laughing merrily. "Who's going to pick them andscatter them to dry up in the mountains?"
"The wolves, boy, the wolves," said the man, bitterly, "for I suppose Ishall come to that. You asked me what I was going to do. I'll tellyou. I shall wander away somewhere right up among the mountains, for mysoldiering days are over, and I can never serve another master now, andat last I shall lie down to die! The wolves will come, and," he added,with a sigh, "you know what will happen then."
"Oh yes," said Marcus, with mock seriousness. "The poor wolves! Ishall be sorry for them. I know what will happen then. At the firstbite you will jump up in a rage, catch them one at a time by the tail,give them one swing round, and knock their brains out against thestones. You wouldn't give them much chance to bite again."
A grim smile gradually dawned once more upon the old soldier'scountenance, and, slowly raising one of his hands, he began to scratchthe side of his thickly-grizzled head, his brow wrinkling up more deeplythe while, as he gazed into the merry, mocking eyes that looked back sofrankly into his.
"You are laughing at me, boy," he said, at last.
"Of course I am, Serge. Oh my! You are down in the dumps! I say, howmany wolves do you think you could kill like that? But, oh nonsense!You wouldn't be alone. If old Lupe saw you going off with your bundlehe'd spring at you, get it in his teeth, and follow you carrying itwherever you went."
"Hah! Good old Lupe!" said the man, thoughtfully. "I'd forgotten him.Yes, he'd be sure to follow me. You'd have to shut him up in thewine-press."
"And hear him howl to get out?" cried Marcus. "No, I shouldn't, becauseI shouldn't be there."
"Why, where would you be?" said Serge, wonderingly.
"Along with you, of course."
"Along o' me?"
"Yes. If you left home and went away for what was all my fault, do youthink I should be such a miserable cur as to stop behind? No; I shouldgo with you, Serge, and take my sword, and you and Lupe and I couldpretty well tackle as many wolves as would be likely to come up at us onthe mountain side."
"Ah," cried the man, "you are talking like a boy."
"And so are you, Serge, when you say such things as you did just now.Now, look here; you are going to do as father said, pack up all thearmour in the old chest, and
then you are going to speak out and tellhim that you are sorry that you listened to me, and then it will be allover and we shall go on again just the same as before. You and I willthink out something that we can learn or do, and talk of something elsebesides fighting. There, let's have no more talking about going away.Look sharp and get it over. I shan't be happy till I see you and fathershaking hands again. Now promise me you will go and get it done."
"'Tis done, boy; I did speak and made myself humble, just as you want;but he wouldn't take it right, and you know what he said. I can't neverforget it now. He wouldn't listen to me, and no words now, no shakinghands, will put it straight. I shall have to go."
"Oh!" cried Marcus. "What an obstinate old bull it is! Yes, I mean it,Serge; you are just like a human bull. Now, look here; do as I tellyou. You have got to go and speak to father as I say."
"Nay, boy," said the man, solemnly, "not a word. I am going to do mybit of work, the last job I shall ever do here, and then it will begood-bye."
Marcus sprang up in a passion.
"I can't bring you to your senses," he said. "You are too stubborn andblunt. If you won't promise me you will go and speak to father, I shallgo myself and tell him all you say."
"Do, boy; that's right! I like to hear you turn like that. Hit me andkick me if you will. It will all make it easier for me to go away."
Marcus stood up before him, looking at him fiercely, and he was about toflash out a torrent of angry words, but, feeling that he would saysomething of which he might afterwards repent, he dashed out of the roomand made for his father's study.
Marcus: the Young Centurion Page 5