Bevis: The Story of a Boy

by Richard Jefferies

on the higherpart of the slope where he chanced to be, and looked down on the battle.He noted Phil Varro go up to Pompey and urge something. Pompey seemedto yield, and shouted, "A tail! a tail! Crassus! George! Tim! Atail!"

  Mark dashed down the slope to Bevis, who was fighting on the levelground. He hastened to save the battle, for a "tail" is a terriblething. The leader, who must be the biggest, gets in front, the nextbiggest behind him, a third behind him, and so on to the last, forming atail, which is in fact a column, and so long as it keeps formation willbore a hole through a crowd. Before he could get to Caesar, for so manystruck at him in passing that it took him some time to pass fifty yards,the tail was made--Pompey in front, next Val Crassus, then Varro, thenIke (a big fellow, but who had as yet done nothing, and was no goodexcept for the weight of his body), then George, then Tim, and two more.Eight of them in a mighty line, which began to descend the slope.

  "Look!" said Mark Antony at last, touching Caesar Bevis, "look there!It's a tail!"

  "It doesn't matter," said Bevis, looking up.

  "Doesn't matter! Why, they'll _hunt_ us!"

  And Pompey did hunt them, downright hunt them along. Before Fred andBill could come at Mark's call, before they could shake themselves freeof their immediate opponents, Pompey came thundering down, and swepteverything before him.

  "Out of the way!" cried Mark. "Bevis, out of the way! O! Now!" Hewrung his hands and stamped.

  Bevis stood and received the charge which Pompey led straight at him.Pompey, with his head down and arms crossed to defend it, ran with allhis might. Bevis, never stirring, lifted his sword. There was a partof Pompey's bare head which his arms did not cover. It was atemptation, but he remembered the agreement, and he struck with all hisstrength on Pompey's left arm. So hard was the blow that the toughsword snapped, and Pompey groaned with pain, but in the same instantCaesar felt as if an oak or a mountain had fallen on him. He was hurledto the ground with stunning force, and the column passed over him, onestepping on his foot.

  There he lay for half a minute, dazed, and they might easily have takenhim prisoner, but they could not stop their rush till they had gonetwenty or thirty yards. By that time, Mark, Fred, and Bill had draggedBevis up, and put a sword which they snatched from a soldier into hishand. He limped, and looked pale and wild for a minute, but his bloodwas up, and he wanted to renew the fight. They would not let him, theypulled him along.

  "It's no use," said Mark; "you can't. We must get to the trees. Here,lean on me. Run. Sycamores! Sycamores!" he shouted.

  "Sycamores! trees!" shouted Fred and Bill to their scattered followers.They urged Caesar to run, he limped, but kept pace with them somehow.Pompey had turned by now, and went through a small body of Caesar's men,who had rushed towards him when they saw he was down, just as if theyhad been straws. Still they checked the column a little, as floatingbeams check heavy waves, and so gave Caesar time to get more ahead.

  "Sycamores!" Mark continued to shout as he ran, and the broken legionseasily understood they were to rally there. At that moment the battlewas indeed lost. Pompey ranged triumphant. Leading his irresistibleand victorious column with shouting, he chased the flying Caesar.

  Little Charlie, left in the ash-tree, could not get down, but saw thewhole of the encounter. The lowest bough was too high to drop from, thetrunk too large to clasp and slide down. He was imprisoned andhelpless, with the war in sight. He chafed and raged and shouted, tillthe tears of vexation rolled down his cheeks. Full of fiery spirit itwas torture to him to see the battle in which he could not take part.For awhile, watching the first shock, he forgot everything else in theinterest of the fight; but presently, when the combatants separated, andwere strewn as it were over the slope, he saw how easily at thatjuncture any united body could have swept the field, and rememberedScipio Cecil. Why did not Cecil come?

  He looked that way, and from his elevation could see Cecil standing onthe gate by Pompey's camp. Having sacked the camp, put the fire out,and thrown all the coats over the gate into a heap in the field, Scipiodid not know what next he ought to do, and wondered that no ordersreached him from Caesar. He got up on the highest bar except one of thegate, but could see no one, the undulations of the ground completelyconcealing the site of the conflict. He did not know what to do; hewaited a while and looked again. Once he fancied he heard shouting, butthe gale was so strong he could not be certain.

  Charlie in the ash-tree now seeing Pompey form the tail, or column,worked himself into a state of frenzy. He yelled, he screamed to Scipioto come, till he was hoarse, and gasped with the straining of histhroat; but the howling of the tremendous wind through the trees by thegate, prevented Scipio from hearing a word. Had he known Charlie was inthe tree he might have guessed there was something wrong from hisfrantic gestures, but he did not, and as there were so many scatteredtrees in the field, there was nothing to make him look at that one inparticular. Charlie waved his hat, and at last flung it up into theair, waved his handkerchief--all in vain.

  He could see the crisis, but could not convey a knowledge of it to theidle cohort. He looked again at the battle. Caesar was down andtrampled under foot. He threw up his arms, and almost lost his balancein his excitement. The next minute Caesar was up, and he and hislieutenant were flying from Pompey. The column chased them, and thewhole scene--the flight and the pursuit--passed within a short distance,half a stone's throw of the ash-tree.

  Quite wild, and lost to everything but his auger, Charlie the nextsecond was out on a bough, clinging to it like a cat. He crawled outsome way, till the bough bent a little with his weight. His design wasto get out till it bowed towards the ground, and so lowered him--aperilous feat! He got half a yard further, and then swung under it, outand out, till the branch gave a good way. He tried again, and lookeddown; the ground was still far below. He heard a shout, it stimulatedhim. He worked out farther, till the branch cracked loudly; it wouldbreak, but would not bend much farther. His feet hung down now; he onlyheld by his hands. Crack! Another shout! He looked down wildly, andin that instant saw a little white knob--a button mushroom in the grass.He left hold, and dropped. The little mushroom saved him, for itguided him, steadied his drop; his feet struck it and smashed it, andhis knees giving under him, down he came.

  But he was not hurt, his feet, as he hung from the bowed branch, weremuch nearer the earth than it had looked to him from his original perch,and he alighted naturally. The shock dazed him at first, just as Bevishad been confused, a few minutes previously. In a minute he was allright, and running with all his speed towards Scipio.

  As Caesar ran, with the shout of victorious Pompey close behind, hesaid, "If we could charge the column sideways we could break it--"

  "If," snorted Mark, with the contempt of desperation; "if--of course!"

  Caesar was right, but he had not got the means just then. Next minutethey reached the first sycamore, not ten yards in front of Pompey. Asthey turned to face the enemy, with their backs to the great tree,Pompey lowered his head, crossed his arms, and the column charged.Nothing could stop that onslaught, which must have crushed them, butBevis, quick as thought, pushed Mark and Fred one way and Bill theother, stepping after the latter. Ted Pompey, with his eyes shut, andall the force of his men thrusting behind, crashed against the tree.

  Down he went recoiling, and two or three more behind him.

  Thwack! thwack! The four defenders hammered their enemies before theycould recover the shock.

  "Quick!" cried Mark; "tie him--prisoner--quick," pulling a cord from hispocket, and putting his foot on Ted, who was lying in a heap.

  Before any one could help Mark the heap heaved itself up, and ValCrassus and Phil Varro hauled their half-stunned leader back out ofreach.

  Crash! clatter! bang! thwack!

  "Backs to trees! Stand with backs to trees!" shouted Bevis, hitting outfuriously. "We shall win! Here, Bill!"

  They planted themselves, these four, Bevis, Mark, Fred, and Bill
, withtheir backs to the great trunk of the sycamore, standing a foot or twoin front of it for room to swing their swords, and a little way apartfor the same reason. The sycamore formed a bulwark so that none couldattack them in rear.

  The column, as it recoiled, widened out, and came on again in asemicircle, surrounding them.

  "Give in!" shouted Val. "We're ten to one!" (that was not numericallycorrect.) "Give in! You'll all be prisoners in a minute!"

  "That we shan't," said Bill, fetching him a side way slash.

  "If we could only get Scipio up," said Mark. "Where is he? Can't weget him?"

  "I forgot him," said Bevis. "There, take that," as he warded a cut andreturned it. "I forgot him. Look out, Fred, that's it.