Marcus: the Young Centurion

by George Manville Fenn

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

  MARCUS' PROMISE.

  "Seems to me, my lad," said Serge, "that we ought to have been startedon this journey two days earlier."

  "Yes, Serge," replied Marcus, in a despairing tone. "It's maddening.Here have we gone on, almost starved, never getting a proper night'srest--"

  "Well, but that's nothing to grumble at, my boy. That's soldiering;that is what I always told you. A soldier must be ready to fast and gowithout sleep, and be always prepared to fight. Now, didn't I teach youthat?"

  "Yes, Serge, but I didn't quite understand it then."

  "But you do now?"

  "Oh, yes, I know now; and I wouldn't care a bit if we could onlyovertake them. Three times over during the past week we have been soclose that half a day's march must have brought us to the army."

  "That's true," said Serge; "and each time we were cut off by parties ofthe enemy, and driven back, just as we thought we could march in, findthe master and Caius Julius, and deliver our message. Fortune of war,my lad; fortune of war."

  "Misfortune of war," cried Marcus, angrily. "Here, I don't know howmany days it is since we started, for days and nights and time all seemto have grown mixed up together."

  "Yes, we have had rather a muddled and worrying time of it, Marcus,lad."

  "And now we are just as far off as ever."

  "Well, not quite, my lad."

  "I feel weak for want of food, and confused for want of sleep."

  "Not you! You only fancy that because you're down in the dumps. You'llbe all right as soon as ever there's anything wants doing and we havetumbled by accident near to one of those parties of the enemy, who allseem to be moving the same way as we are to surround the army."

  "Yes, Serge, and that's what I am afraid they are doing, and keeping usoutside. It's all desperate and bad."

  "Oh, I don't know. We shall get to them some time," said Serge.

  "Some time!" cried Marcus, mockingly. "Our poor general with hisfollowers must have been utterly destroyed by this time."

  "Tchah! Not he! You don't know what a Roman general can do. He'llhold out for months, or kill those who are attacking him. Give it upyour fashion!"

  "What do you mean by my fashion?" cried Marcus, sharply.

  "Give it up in despair sort of way when there's no need."

  "No need!" cried Marcus, bitterly. "You seem to be blind to the danger.Why, the main army, as you must see perfectly well, has penetrated sofar into the enemy's country that it is completely surrounded by thetribes that have gathered together, and are only now waiting for afavourable opportunity to fall upon it and crush it."

  "Well, the army's no worse off than we are. They've surrounded us--parties of them--only we wouldn't be crushed. It's just the same withthe Roman army; it won't be crushed. I've taught you times enough, boy,what our generals can do--lock their men together, shield to shield,cohort to cohort, all facing outwards and bristling with spear andsword. These barbarians are brave enough and they rush at our menmeaning to crush them and sweep them out of the country; and so theykeep on at it, losing more and more, before they roll back beaten."

  "Yes, Serge, but only to try again."

  "Oh, of course. That's right enough, but it only means to be rolledback again. Now, look here, my boy; you have got your message todeliver."

  "Yes, yes, I know," cried Marcus, despairingly.

  "And you are a bit disappointed because it's not done. Everything'sbad, you say. It's been all misfortune since we started, and we may aswell give up at once."

  "Well, isn't it all true?" cried Marcus, as he stood unconsciouslycaressing one of the chariot horses as the pair stood ready to makeanother dash at a moment's notice, their driver busying himself thewhile with seeing to and examining the different parts of the harness.

  "True! Hardly a bit of it," cried Serge. "I ought to give you a gooddrilling and bullying for what you said; but somehow I can't, for wehave had some very hard work, and all through you have been such a braveboy."

  "Oh, nonsense, Serge! You are only saying that to comfort me. You willpraise me so."

  "Oh no I won't," said the old soldier, gruffly. "I won't give you a bitmore than's good for you, boy. When I say you have done well it meansyou have done well. You won't get any flattery out of me. All thistrouble that we are going through is no more than you must expect. Lookwhat we are doing, and how we stand."

  Serge was sitting down on a stone, busily employed as he talkedpolishing and sharpening his sword as it lay across his knees, and hedid not trouble himself to look up at his young companion, but kept onlecturing him in a bluff, good-humoured way, smiling to himself withsatisfaction all the time.

  "Now here we are, trying to overtake our army, which had some days thestart of us. If I say what you think isn't right, you stop me. Well,our army has invaded the country of these Gallic tribes. The Gauls areno fools. They know Caius Julius has come to conquer them, and theydon't want to be conquered. Their idea is to invade Rome and conquerus. Well, my boy, we have come into their country, and every man whocan fight has been called upon to come and fight against us, so thatlike a big crop in a cultivated land, what has been planted has come upall over. And this crop is fighting men with swords and spears. Nowwe--you and me and the driver, and we ought to put the horses in, bless'em, for they've done wonders--have come after the army, marchingthrough this bristling crop, and you, without taking any account of whata hard job it is to get through, keep on grumbling and saying everythingis bad."

  "And so it is, Serge."

  "It arn't, boy!" cried the old soldier, firmly, and letting his swordrest, brightly polished and sharp as it was, he now raised his head andlooked smilingly in the boy's face. "Haven't you got proof of it thatthings are not as bad as you say?"

  "No," cried Marcus, angrily. "I was entrusted with a message to myfather and Caius Julius, and I have not done my task."

  "Not yet, boy, but you are going to at the first chance. Why, lookhere, my lad, if things were half as bad as you say they are weshouldn't be here. If we have escaped once from being taken or killedwe have got through a dozen times. Look at us. Why, we haven't got ascratch, and here we are, better, ever so much, than when we started."

  "Better?" cried Marcus.

  "Yes, better. We are a bit hungry."

  "I tell you I'm half starved," cried Marcus.

  "Take your belt up another hole, then, boy. That's a splendidtightener. Hungry! Why, you talk about it as if it was a disease, whenit's a thing you can cure yourself the first time you get hold of a bigcake and a bowl of goat's milk."

  "Oh, how you talk!" cried the boy, holding out his arm and trying tospan his wrist with his fingers. "Look how thin I am getting."

  "Thin!" cried Serge. "Why, you look prime. You have got rid of a lotof that nasty fat that was filling out your skin through doing nothingbut sit on a stool all day making scratches with a stylus on a plate ofwax. What does a soldier want with fat? Your armour's quite heavyenough to carry, without your being loaded up with a lot of fat. That'sright enough for women and girls; makes 'em look smooth and nice andpretty, and fills up all the holes and corners; but a soldier wants boneand muscle--good, hard, tough muscle and sinew, and that's what you havegot now. Look at me."

  "Yes, I have looked at you time after time, Serge, and you lookhollow-cheeked and haggard and worn."

  "Why, I feel prime, my boy, ready for anything; ten years younger thanwhen we started. Why, I have got into regular fighting condition again.Did you see how I jumped into the car yesterday when the ponies startedwithout me?"

  "Yes, I saw you run ever so far and jump," cried Marcus.

  "And you begin talking to me about being haggard and worn! Isn't asword all the sharper for being a bit worn?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "So's a soldier. Look here, boy; we are getting seasoned, and I'm proudto say that I am what a man's officer would call a veteran, and that'sthe finest title th
ere is in an army. Then, too, look at our lad here.See what a splendid driver he's turned out, and how he can send thatchariot in and out among the rocks so close as almost to shave them, andright in between pairs of them where you or I would think there wasn'troom to pass. And then there's the ponies! They are a bit thin,certainly, but they are as fine as bronze, and can gallop farther andbetter than ever. Now then! Speak out honest! Did you ever before seesuch a splendid pair?"

  "No, Serge, never."

  "And yet you say that everything's wrong and hopeless and bad. Why,boy, if I didn't know it was all through your being young and anxiousand eager to do your duty, I should be ashamed of you."

  "But you are not, Serge?" cried the boy, excitedly.

  "'Shamed of you? No, boy. I feel proud."

  "There, Serge," cried Marcus, leaving the pony, to go and lay his handupon the old soldier's shoulder, "I've done, and I will try and nevercomplain any more. I do see now what a lot we have to be thankful for.Now then; what's the next thing we ought to do?"

  "Same as usual, my lad," said Serge, rising and sheathing his sword,which went back into its scabbard with a quick glide till the hilt wasnearly reached, when it required a firm thrust to get it close into itsplace. "Well, to begin with, forage first. I often think it's a pity aman wasn't made like a horse. Look at those two ponies! How theircoats shine in the sunshine! They began eating their breakfast beforeit was light, for I was watching and wakeful, and I got thinking likethis as I heard them busy at it, crop and blow, crop and blow, and afterthey had eaten all they wanted they had a drink of water, and there theyare fit for the day, while we three have got to find out some place oranother where we can buy, or frighten them into giving us some bread andmilk. We always have been lucky enough so far, and I don't see why weshouldn't be again to-day."

  "But which way shall we go, Serge? It's of no use to try to follow upthe army as we did yesterday, and then have to turn back because theenemy are between us and it."

  "No, boy; I think the best thing we can do is to leave that till we havedone foraging, for we must have something to eat. Then we'll try if wecan't creep round these tribes, or get in between them somehow. Perhapswe may have a bit of luck to give us a little help. Anyhow, we are notgoing to despair."

  "No, Serge," cried Marcus, firmly; "anything but that."

  "Hah!" cried Serge. "That's spoken like Cracis' son."