CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.
"MY OWN BRAVE BOY!"
The speech Cracis made when he recovered from the fainting fit broughton by emotion when he was weak and prostrate from his wounds, and foundMarcus by his side bathing his face, was very short, setting the boy'sheart at rest and telling him that the past was entirely forgiven; andthe stern Roman judge merged once more in the loving father. For thespeech was this:
"My own brave boy!"
"Ah!" cried Caius Julius, who had just hurried back, after having beenaway for a very brief time giving the orders which had set the wholecamp in motion. "This is bad for you, Cracis, for we start at oncestraight for the pass, and as fast as we can go. Do you think you willbe able to sit a horse?"
"I will," said Cracis, firmly. "Yes, I am better now. My wounds aremere scratches, and once I get to-day and to-night over I shall benearly myself again."
"Nearly," said Caius Julius, with a smile. "Well, we shall see. Whatdo you say, nurse?"
Marcus flushed up at the term by which he was addressed.
"If my father says he will do a thing he will," cried the boy.
"No doubt," said the general; "but do you feel well enough to give meyour counsel and make any suggestions about our return?"
"Yes, certainly," was the reply. "First, then, tell me if you are fullyaware of our position."
"Yes," said Julius, "we have scattered the Gauls in every direction, andas soon as we start they will take it for granted that we are sodisheartened that we are hurrying back through the country in fullretreat, and they will begin to flow back upon us like a great tide,fiercer and more venturesome than ever."
"That is enough," said Cracis. "I ought to have known your feelings,but nearly helpless as I am, I was afraid that last triumph would makeyou over confident, and that our followers would take their cue fromtheir leader and become careless at a time when our position will bemore hazardous than ever."
"Trust me, Cracis; I shall be ready for the enemy at any moment. Now,Marcus, can I leave your father in your charge?"
"No," said Cracis, before the boy could speak, "I am not going to be aburden to our men and join the train of litters and our wounded. My sonMarcus and his old follower, Serge, will join one of the cohorts, andyou will place him where I am sure he would like to be as his father'sson."
"And that is--?" said Caius Julius.
"Where would you like to be, my boy?"
Marcus flushed deeper than ever as he replied:
"Serge always taught me, father, that the place of honour was in thefront."
That morning, as the army moved off in perfect order from their campupon the hill, a message came to where Marcus was marching on one sideof his father's horse, Serge limping stiffly along on the other, thatthe boy was to come forward to join his cohort at once, by the general'sorders; and Marcus started upon seeing that the messenger, at the headof ten stern-looking veterans, was the young officer who had fetched himto the general's tent.
There was a brief and soldierly leave-taking, and then Marcus washurrying forward with his guide, who began at once to falter outhurriedly his apologies for his former treatment of the boy.
"I didn't know," he said. "I couldn't tell who you were. I thought youwere to be a prisoner brought in as a traitorous Roman who had beenfighting on the enemy's side."
"Don't say a word more," cried Marcus, holding out his hand, and, thebest of friends directly, the young officer began to tell him how allthat he had done was known in the cohort, and how proud the men were tohave Cracis' son appointed to join their ranks.
"Ah," said Serge, as soon as he could get an opportunity to speak toMarcus alone, "do you see how I am marching now, my lad?"
"Oh, I have been watching you all the way," cried Marcus, "and pityingyou."
"What!" growled the old soldier.
"You seemed so lame and in such pain. I don't know what has become ofour chariot, but as that's gone you ought to be in one of the litterscarried by the slaves."
"Wha-a-at!" growled the old soldier, making the interjection as long inits utterance as half a dozen six-syllabled words. "Well, I do callthis hard! The knocking about you have had must have got into yourhead, my lad, and upset your eyes. Why, you can't see a bit!"
"What do you mean?" cried Marcus.
"Why, this, boy. When I began to march after that young cockerel hadbrought the orders, I was so stiff that I could hardly put one legbefore the other; but the very news of you being appointed to take yourplace in one of the leading cohorts of the army has acted like salve,and all my stiffness is as good as gone. Carried in a litter by slaves!Me! Do I look the sort of fellow who wants carrying in a litter like asick woman? Bah! Why, before we get far on the march we shall have theenemy closing in on all sides, and the fight beginning."
"Think so, Serge?"
"Yes, my boy. We have got our work cut out, for they'll never believetill it's knocked into them that we are not making a retreat. Me in alitter!" he growled. "Just you wait a bit, and I shall be showing thatI have got a little fighting left in me."
Serge proved his words the very next day, when, after many hours'marching painfully in the ranks, pretty close to where his young masterhad been appointed a junior officer, and been received by the men withcheers, a desperate attack was made upon this, the advance guard, by aperfect crowd of fierce Gallic warriors made up of the scatteredremnants of the beaten army, who came down upon the marching cohort likethe sea upon some massive rock. So fierce was the onslaught that thoughthe Roman ranks remained comparatively unbroken, they were pressed backby the sheer weight of their enemies, but only to recoil, and as theyadvanced to recover their lost ground, it was over the bodies of some oftheir wounded men, and to Marcus' horror he found himself once morecalled upon to dash forward to another's help. This time, however, itwas not blindly and in the dusk, for a shiver of dread ran through him,knowing how crippled his old companion was, when he saw that Serge wasone of those who had been unable to keep his place in the rank when theRomans were driven back, and that now he was defending himself andstriving to hold his own against the attack of three of the Gauls.Tearing off his helmet, as if it were an incumbrance, and making hisshort sword flash through the air, Marcus rushed to his old companion'shelp, but too late to save him being hurled heavily to the ground,while, ready as he was to contend against ordinary weapons, thisbarbaric method of attack confused and puzzled him. One of hishalf-nude enemies made as if to flinch from a coming blow, and thensprang up, hurling something through the air, and in an instant the boyfound himself entangled in the long cord of strips of hide, which wasdragged tight above his arms and crippled the blow he would have struck,while as he was jerked round the Gaul's companions flung themselves uponhis back, and for the moment he was prisoner in his turn.
The struggle that followed was brief, for the blade Marcus wielded wasthat in which old Serge had taken pride, feeling as he did that hismaster's son should be armed with a weapon that was keenest of the keen.Fortunately, too, the aim of the enemy was to make a prisoner of thewell-caparisoned young Roman, and not a slay, so that Marcus, in spiteof the way in which his arms were dragged to his side, was able to turnthe point of his sword upward, and give one thrust between the cord andhis breast, when the rope parted like tinder upon the razor-like edge,and his enemies started back from the sweep of the terrible blade hewhirled above his head.
Staggered for the moment, they were preparing for a fresh attack whenSerge, uttering a deep growl like a wounded lion, sprang to his feet,after snatching his sword from where it lay.
That was enough for the three Gauls, who turned at once and fled, for arank of the Roman soldiers was advancing, and as they closed up, Marcusand Serge were free to take their places in the line once more as ifnothing had happened, and the advance guard steadily pressed on.
There was a fortnight's hard fighting carried on day by day, with asuccession of halts for the formation of camps in the strongestpositions that offered th
emselves as havens of refuge against a teemingenemy which refused to be crushed and constantly swarmed round theretiring Roman army, perfectly reckless of life, and apparently contentwith the smallest advantages that they could gain.
Rolled back one day by a Roman charge, the Gauls gathered together againduring the night to attack and harass the retiring troops; but all wasin vain, for step by step Caius Julius carried all before him, and thehelp that Marcus had been sent to seek gradually drew nearer to thebeleaguered force till one morning, as the army came into position tocontinue its march, Marcus was passing along the ranks and halted bySerge, who eagerly drew his attention to the glittering snow upon themountains a mile or two in front.
"See that?" he cried. "Why, before long we shall reach that stream andbe marching into that great hollow among the mountains where we stoppedthat day with the chariot to see our general lead his men up into thepass. Why, to-night we ought to be camping there amongst the snows; anda nice change too, my boy, for its been rather hot work for about afortnight now."
"Yes," said Marcus, quietly; "but according to the tidings the scoutshave been bringing in all through the night, the Gauls are swarming inthat great amphitheatre between here and the pass, and all promises forthe biggest fight that the army has yet had."
Serge took off his helmet and rubbed one ear thoughtfully, as he gazedstraight before him in the direction of the pass.
"Well," he said, slowly, "I shouldn't wonder if such a fight did comeoff, and if it does it will be hard and fierce. I shouldn't wonder ifit is what your father means. That used to be the way we went on: heplanned where the fight was to be, and Caius Julius went on and won. Iremember every bit of that amphitheatre place, and what a death trap itseemed. You know the captain would not stay in it when the Gauls hadsurrounded him, but left the way clear for us to go for the help we'vebrought, and led his force right up into the pass so as to make theenemy follow him. Now our generals are scheming to get the Gauls, whohave kept on attacking us front, rear and flanks, right into thatamphitheatre of a place in the mountains, where they mean, so it seems,to make a stand and stop our getting up by the pass--for that's whatthey think we mean to do--so as to join forces with him who is holdingit still."
"But is he holding it still?" said Marcus. "The scouts that were sentout last night as soon as it was dark have not yet returned."
"Yes they have," said Serge, quickly. "I saw them come back an hourago, and make for the general's headquarters."
Serge was right, for one of his comrades had heard the result of theirinvestigation, the news they brought back being that their leader wasstill holding the pass, and, what was more, he was well supplied withprovisions, for the country people on the farther slope, realising thestrength of the Roman general's position, had judged it best to acceptthe conquest, and, making friends, had kept up an ample supply of food,so that the little force which kept the gateway into Gaul and commandedthe approaches on either side, had had no greater difficulties tocontend with than an occasional attack on the part of the enemy.
This being made known to Serge, he laughed softly.
"There, you'll see how our generals will carry to-day's work out, mylad. That's it: Cracis has calculated upon its being like this, andthis place will be instead of a retreat a masterly scheme which will endthis war."
"How?" said Marcus.
"How? Why, in the way your father has arranged. You'll see that whenwe advance the general will throw out two wings to secure the littlehollows by which the Gauls have been advancing, till he has got roundthem, and then, and then only, he will advance his centre. Do you see?"
"Not quite," said Marcus, "though I am trying to follow you."
"Well, I should have thought you would have been soldier enough to haveseen what would follow."
"A desperate fight?" said Marcus.
"Most likely, boy; but don't you see what will happen then?"
"A horrible slaughter, Serge," said Marcus, excitedly.
"Perhaps, boy, but it may happen that when the enemy finds how he hasbeen out-manoeuvred and that he is trapped he may surrender."
"But everything has proved that the enemy is too stubborn for that."
"He has never been in such a fix as this yet, my boy."
"But he has equal chances with us, Serge, and may fight to the last anddrive us back."
"Not when he finds out the truth."
"That our men are better disciplined than his?"
"No, boy; he must have found that out long ago. Not that, but that, asI said before, he has been completely out-manoeuvred by your father."
"Well, you said that before, Serge," said Marcus, impatiently; "but Idon't see matters as you do, though I have tried very hard."
"Then you ought to have seen," cried the old soldier, gruffly. "Thecaptain is still holding the pass, isn't he?"
"Yes, we have heard so."
"Well, boy, knowing him, do you think he will go on holding it withoutdoing anything when we advance and close the enemy in more and more?"
"Ah! I see now!" cried Marcus, eagerly. "He will come down from thepass with his men, and attack the Gauls in the rear."
"To be sure he will, and do the greater part of the fighting and drivingthe enemy on to our troops. Why, in a very short time, as I see it, Imean after the attack, half their men will be prisoners, for no matterhow clever the Gaul general may be he is bound to give up or have hisforces cut down to a man."
"Yes," said Marcus, eagerly.
"Just you take warning, then, boy, by this day's work: never you, whenyou grow up to be a general with an army at your command, never you letyourself be driven into a hole like this where you may be caught betweentwo fires."
"I never will if I can help it," said Marcus, smiling.
"Forewarned is forearmed, boy. You know now."
"Yes, Serge; but I am anxious to see what this afternoon brings forth."
"Not much but a little marching and counter marching to get things quiteexact and to the satisfaction of our generals. I expect this battlewill be fought out before night."
Marcus: the Young Centurion Page 32
