CHAPTER TEN.
LEFT BEHIND.
"Not going too, master?" cried Serge, as soon as he could recoverhimself from a verbal blow which had, for the moment, seemed to crushhim down; and, as Marcus heard the hopeless despair in the poor fellow'stones, the feeling of malicious triumph in his breast died away.
"No," said Cracis, firmly; "your duty lies here."
"Lies here, master?" stammered Serge.
"Yes, man, here. Whom am I to leave in charge of my home? Who is toprotect my son if I take you with me?"
"Home--Son?" faltered Serge. "But you, master--who is to protect you ifyour old follower is left behind?"
"I must protect myself, Serge," said Cracis, and his voice lost for themoment the hard, firm sternness of the soldier. "Your duty is here,Serge, and I look to you to carry it out. I leave you a greater chargethan that of following and trying to shield me."
"No, no, master, no!" cried the old soldier, passionately. "I was withyou always. I followed you through the wars, and I've stood by you likea man in peace. Once my master always my master while you could trustme, and it must be so still."
"No, Serge," cried Cracis, sternly. "I have told you your duty and nowgive you your orders. Protect my property; watch over my son till myreturn, if I ever do return," he added, sadly; "and if I fall, yourplace is still here to stand by my son and follow him as you havefollowed me."
"But you will not let me follow you, master!" cried Serge, passionately."Oh, master, master! Young Marcus isn't a suckling; he's big andstrong enough to fend himself. I've been waiting all these years foryou to take your place as a soldier and a general once again! Don't--pray don't leave me behind!"
"Serge," said Cracis, sternly, "you have led these years of peace, butrecollect that you are a soldier still. Man, your officer has given youyour orders--Obey!"
As Marcus gazed at their old follower he seemed to have suddenly grownold. His face was wrinkled, and the skin appeared to hang, while apiteous look of despair filled his eyes as, throwing out his handstowards one who seemed to him to be delivering his death sentence, hefell heavily upon his knees and poured forth:
"There, there, master, here's your sword, keener and brighter than ever.Draw it and put me out of my misery at once. I won't say a word, onlygive you a last look like that of a faithful hound who has died in yourservice. Kill me at once, and let that be the end, but now that you arecoming to your rights again after all these weary years of waiting, andare going to fight for brave old Rome, don't throw me over as if I was ahelpless log. Think what it means to an old soldier who never turnedhis back upon an enemy in his life. Use your sword on me, master, ifyou feel that I'm not the man to draw my own again; but don't--praydon't leave me behind!"
Marcus felt ready to join his petition to that of the old soldier, buthe could not speak, only stand and listen to his father's words, as hestepped forward to lay his hand upon the man's shoulder.
"Serge," he said, in a voice full of emotion--"brave old follower--trueold friend, I could sternly order you to obey my commands, but I canonly beg of you as you do of me. Rise up, man, and hear me. I wouldgladly take you with me and have you always at my back, but we cannot doeverything we would. In my absence, Serge, your place is here toprotect my boy. It is your duty, and perhaps the last command I shallever give you, for the Gauls are stout warriors and it is no child'splay that takes me from my home. I beg, then, as well as order. Stayand protect my son."
"But you don't know, master, how you may be surrounded by enemies readyto strike at you."
"No," said Cracis, firmly, and there was a ring of command in his tones."Neither do I know how closely my boy may be hemmed in, and I want toleave here with the peaceful feeling that, whatever happens, my son hasone beside him that I can always trust. Your duty, Serge, is here, andI leave Marcus in your charge. Now, no more save this: Rise up like mytrusted servant. Duty calls me away, not only as a counsellor, but alsoas one of my country's generals. Now help me with my armour, for I goforth to fight. There have been words enough. Take the example of myson. He feels the bitterness of being left behind as much as you. Now,quick! We have lost too much time already. Caius Julius awaits mycoming, and my heart is burning to be free from all this suffering andmental pain. Marcus, my boy, help him. It is the first time I everasked you to arm me as a soldier. Quick, boy, and let us get it done."
Marcus sprang to his father's side, while, heavy and slow, Serge, as herose, tottered here and there as he busied himself over a task that hadnot fallen to him for many long years, while a faint groan of miseryescaped his lips from time to time before the last metal loop had beenforced over its stud and then drawn into its place, the last buckledrawn tight, and the armed cheek-straps of the great Robin helmet passedbeneath the general's chin.
These final preparations made, Cracis stood, grave and thoughtful,asking himself whether there was anything more he wished to do, anythingin the way of orders to give his servant and his son before he left hishome.
"Leave me now, Marcus," he said. "I wish to be alone for a while.Well," he continued, as the boy stood frowning and looking at himwistfully, "why do you stay? You want to ask me something before I go?"
These words stirred the boy into action, and he started to his father'sside; but, though his lips parted, no words came.
"The time is gliding away, Marcus, my boy," said Cracis, sadly. "Come,speak out. You want to ask some favour before I go?"
"Yes, father, but after what you have said I hardly dare," cried theboy, hoarsely.
"Speak out, my son, boldly and bravely," said Cracis. "What is it youwish to say?"
"That there is yet time, father, before you go."
"Time for what?" said Cracis, frowning as if he grasped what his son wasabout to say.
"Time for you to withdraw your command," cried the boy, desperately."Father, I can't help it; I could not stay behind here with you leavinghome for the wars. You must take me with you after all."
Cracis frowned heavily.
"Is this my son speaking?" he said, harshly. "After the commands I havegiven you--after the way in which I have arranged for you to representme here, and take my place in all things? Where are all my teachingsabout duty--have all flown to the winds?"
"No, no, father," cried the boy, passionately; "but you cannot tell howI feel. You do not know what it is to be left alone, and for me to seeyou go."
"You are wrong, my boy; I do know," cried Cracis; "and I may answer youand say, neither do you know what it is for me to give up my happy homeand all belonging to me, to go hence never to return."
"Oh, I do, I do, father! I can feel that it must be terrible," criedthe boy, excitedly; "but there is no need for you to go alone. I knowhow young I am, but I could be of great help to you. I am sure I could.So pray, pray don't leave me behind."
"Is that all you have to say, Marcus?" said Cracis, sternly.
"Ye-e-es, father," faltered the boy, in a despairing tone, for he couldread plainly enough in his father's eyes that his appeal had been invain.
"Then leave me now, boy, and do not make my task harder by speaking likethis again. I have my duty to do towards my country and my home. Myduty to my country is to follow Caius Julius in the great venture he isabout to attempt; my duty to my home and son is to leave you here andnot expose you, at your age, to the horrors of this war."
"But father!" cried the boy, wildly.
"Silence, boy!" said Cracis, firmly. "Obey me. I will hear no more.Go!"
Marcus' lips parted to make one more appeal, but, as his eyes met hisfather's where Cracis stood pointing towards the door, his own fellagain, and feeling mastered, crushed in his despair, he moved slowlytowards the door, his heart seeming to rise to his throat to stranglehim in the intense emotion from which he suffered; but, as soon as hewas outside, his elastic young spirit seemed to spring up again, and hehurried to his room, to stand there thinking, with the resolve to makeone more strong effort to mo
ve his father's determination.
"He does not--he cannot know what I feel," he said to himself withenergy. "I did not half try. I should have thrown myself at his feetand prayed to him. No, no," said the boy, mournfully, as he felt moreand more the hopelessness of his cause. "It would have been no good.Father is like iron in his will; he is so strong, I am so weak--He agreat man--I only a poor, feeble boy to be left behind to mind thehouse, as if I were a girl! Oh, it's of no use; I must stay--I muststay!" he half groaned, in his despair. "When perhaps I might help himso, I and Serge, when he was in the fight, or--oh, if he were wounded!Suppose he were cut down and bleeding, perhaps dying, and I not there tohelp him! Oh, it's of no use to despair; I must--I will go. I know!I'll appeal to Caius Julius; he will hear me, I feel sure."
Full of enthusiasm once more, he hurried out of his room to seek for thevisitor, who had wrought such a change in their quiet home; but, as hecaught sight of him pacing slowly up and down the little inner courtclose to the fountain, the boy's heart failed him again, for he recalledthe angry passage that had taken place between them the previous day--their visitor's half-mocking words, and his own burst of passion, whichhad roused him into forgetting the sacred rites of hospitality andraising his hand to strike.
"I can't ask him; I dare not beg him to intercede," thought Marcus. "Hewould only jeer at me for being a boy, and put me out of temper again.But I must," he said. "It is for father's sake. Yes, I will. Whyshould I mind? Let him laugh at me if he likes."
Raising his courage he was on his way to their visitor's side when CaiusJulius turned and caught sight of the approaching boy.
"Ah, Marcus," he said; "is your father nearly ready to go?"
"Yes," cried the boy, "but--"
He stopped short, for the words refused to come.
"Well, what were you about to say?" said Julius, frowning.
"Your father is not going to repent?"
"Repent? About me?" cried the boy, excitedly.
"About you, boy? Why should he repent about you?"
"And let me go with him," cried Marcus, excitedly, as, forgetting allhis dislike, he caught his father's visitor by the robe and spokeeagerly and well. "I want to go with him to the war."
"You? To fight?"
"Yes; I know I am young and weak--Yes, I know, only a boy, but I shallgrow strong, and it is not only to fight. I want to be there to helphim. He might be sick or wounded. He says I must stay at home here,but I appeal to you. You can tell him how useful I could be. You willtell him, sir, for I feel that I ought not--that I cannot stay here andlet him go alone."
"Well spoken, my brave boy!" cried Caius Julius. "Spoken like a man!So you, young as you are, would go with us?"
"Yes, yes, of course," cried Marcus, in his wild excitement, as helistened to this encouraging reception of his appeal. "I think I couldfight; but even if I could not there is so much that I could do."
"And you would not feel afraid?" cried Julius, catching the boy by thearm.
"No--yes--no--I do not know," said the boy, colouring. "I hope not."
"You do not know the horrors of a battlefield, boy," said Julius, fixingMarcus with his keen eyes.
"No," said Marcus, thoughtfully; "it must be very terrible, but I do notthink I should shrink. I should be thinking so much of my father."
"Well, honestly and modestly spoken, boy," said Julius. "Why, you makeme feel full of confidence in your becoming as brave and great a man asyour father."
"Oh no, sir," replied Marcus, sadly. "No one could be so great andbrave a man as he."
"But you would follow us into the middle of the battle's horrors?"
"Yes, sir, I would indeed; indeed I would," cried Marcus, eagerly.
"I believe you, my boy, and all the more for your simple honesty ofspeech."
"And you will prevail upon my father to let me go?" cried Marcus,appealingly.
"I do not know," said Julius, thoughtfully. "You say that you havebegged hard and your father says that you must stay?"
"Yes," cried Marcus, "but you have the power, sir, and you will speak tohim and tell him that he must take me?" cried Marcus.
Julius shook his head.
"Let me see," he said; "you told me that you would try to be brave."
Marcus felt that his hopes were vain, but he spoke out desperately:
"Yes, I would indeed try to be as brave and firm as I could."
"I know you would, boy, but remember this: it is very brave to beobedient to those who are in authority over you," said Julius. "A goodson obeys his father, and Cracis has given you his commands to stayhere, has he not?"
"Yes," cried Marcus, desperately; "but I was sure that I could be of thegreatest help."
"I believe that you would try to be," said Julius, gravely; "but, myboy, I cannot fight for you in this and oppose your father's commands.Be brave and do your duty here. Put up with the disappointment andwait. Time flies fast, boy, and you will be a man sooner than youexpect--too soon perhaps for the golden days of youth. No, my boy, Icannot interfere. You must obey your father's commands."
"Oh," cried Marcus, passionately, "and suppose he is stricken down, tolie helpless on the field?"
Julius shrugged his shoulders, and at that moment the voice of Craciswas heard summoning the boy, who turned away hanging his head in hisdespair. Marcus turned to meet his father, who looked at him wonderingto see him there, and bringing the colour to the boy's cheeks, so guiltydid he feel, as, with his cloak over his arm, Cracis drew his son to himto press him to his mailed breast, held out his hand to Serge, and thenstrode forward with heavy tread to join his old military companion, whowas now slowly bending over the side of the fountain, into whose clearsurface he kept on lowering the white tips of his fingers so that one orthe other of the little fish that glided about within the depths mightdart at them and apply its lips in the belief that something was offeredto it fit for food.
Caius Julius rose up slowly as he heard the heavy tramp of his friend'sarmoured feet upon the paved floor, and took in his appearance with asmile of satisfaction.
"You are ready, then?" he said.
"Yes," was the laconic reply.
"Then nothing remains but for you to take your farewell of my braveyoung friend, your defender when I ventured to try his faith."
"That is done," said Cracis, gravely; "and as Rome awaits my coming,lead the way."
"But I have not said my valediction to your son, Cracis, and it is this:Wait, Marcus, my brave boy. Some day perhaps I may come to you as Ihave come to your father to ask your help. Better still, send him, fullof the honours he has won, to bring his son to Rome. Till then,farewell."
Marcus felt the touch of their visitor's hands and heard his words, buthe could not speak, only stand side by side with Serge, who looked olderand more bent than when he first learned the truth that he was to staybehind; but the boy had no thought at the moment but of the father whowas going away to face peril as well as to strike for glory and hiscountry's welfare.
He could only follow the pair of Rome's great men as, side by side, theypassed out of the open court where the fountain played and the waterthat sparkled like diamonds in the bright sunshine fell back into thebasin with a musical splashing sound.
A minute later and Cracis with his companion passed out through theporched entry into the tree-shaded road, the grave, white-robed leaderand the well-armed general with his shield, which flashed and turned offa shower of keen darts which came from on high, as he turned once towave his hand to his son.
At that moment there was a low, deep bay, and the great wolf-dog, whichhad caught sight of his master, bounded from the shadow where he hadcrouched to avoid the flies, and, seeing the two strangers, as theyseemed to him, he leaped forward, but crouched at his master's feet ashe recognised his face and voice.
"Good dog!" cried Cracis. "No, go back and guard all here till Ireturn."
If the dog did not grasp the words, he did the tone and gesture,replying
by throwing up his muzzle and giving vent to a piteous howlfull of protest, as he turned and walked slowly back to join Marcus andSerge, dropping at the former's feet just as the departing pairdisappeared at a turn of the road.
Then there was a pause for a time, before the dog slunk off to hiskennel; Serge hung his head and moved away in silence towards the backof the villa and the room that Marcus playfully called his den, whilethe boy, feeling that all was over and hope dead and buried in hisbreast, went slowly and sadly to his seat in the study, where his stylusand waxen tablets lay, to slowly scratch upon the smooth surface thewords:
"Gone. Left behind."
Marcus: the Young Centurion Page 10