Marcus: the Young Centurion Part 37

"Nay, they are only getting ready. You'll see them settle down again directly to watch our men and make sure what we are going to do."

The chariots moved on, one following the other till the rough line was all in motion, only one standing fast, and that one calling for the help of both Marcus and Serge, who at a word from the driver ran to the heads of the ponies to a.s.sist in controlling them. For as the last chariot started off they made a desperate plunge forward to follow, so taking the driver by surprise that the pair went on a few yards before they were stopped by Marcus and Serge hanging on to their bits and backing them to the place from which they had started.

"Don't like being left behind," growled Serge.

"Steady, boy, steady!" said Marcus, caressingly, as he patted the arching neck and smoothed down the wild, thick mane of the fiery little steed he held. "Wait a bit and we won't check you. You shall go, and as fast as you like, if we can only get clear ground."

The swarthy little driver grasped the boy's words, and nodded and showed his teeth, while in a few minutes the spirited animals were quieted down where they stood now with their heads turned from the slowly advancing line.

"He ought to have been on the look-out," growled Serge. "Hullo! How the chief must have been arranging all this!" And then he stood silently with his young companion, watching the changes that were beginning to take place in their little force.

The spot on which they stood was sufficiently elevated to give the pair of spectators a pretty good view of the little beleaguered camp. All at once the line of chariots was halted, while a fresh agitation commenced where the cavalry had been posted. There was a quick change where horses and men were ma.s.sed together, and the light played and flashed from helmet and s.h.i.+eld, while the men's spears glittered like so many points of light, as they sprang on to the backs of their horses and soon after were in motion, forming into another line which moved to the front of the chariots and were stopped in due time a little in advance.

"Why, he's making quite a show of it," growled Serge, "and the little army looks as if it were slowly going into action just for us to see."

"Yes," said Marcus, eagerly, "but look out yonder too. The enemy are advancing. They are gradually coming down that deep little valley, trickling like a stream."

"To be sure they are," said Serge, "and they are doing the same over yonder too."

"Well, doesn't that mean that they are going to attack at once?"

"No, boy; I fancy it only means to close us in and sweep us before them right up into the narrow of the pa.s.s again. They are beginning to take it."

"Take what?"

"Take what? Why, what our general means. I am not going to call him a captain any more. He's acting like a general, and a good one too. The enemy don't mean to attack--not yet, because you see they have got no head man to make a big plan for them all to work together. You see, they are all little bodies and tribes and bits of tribes, each under its own leader, and everyone thinks himself a general and acts just as he likes, and that's where they often get in a muddle, good fighters as they are. Look at them now. There's another lot yonder going slowly down from that hill into the hollow and coming creeping towards us."

"Yes, and right away from that opposite hill there's another tribe coming down," cried Marcus, whose voice was husky with excitement.

"That's right," growled Serge, "and don't you see, not one lot has moved towards the upper pa.s.s. Why have they left that way open?"

"I don't know," said Marcus. "Perhaps some of the enemy will move towards it soon."

"Not they," growled Serge, with a deep, low chuckle. "Our general's laid a trap for them, and they are walking in. They know that we must be running short of provisions, and they think that we are going to retreat. It looks like it, don't it? There goes an advance guard of the foot, marching to the front of the horse. Well done, brave boys!

There are some fine men amongst them to step together like that! Yes, there they go, about a third of them straight for the upper pa.s.s, and the whole of our little army will soon be under weigh as if in full retreat."

"And then the enemy will attack," cried Marcus.

"Perhaps not yet. They know what it's like up yonder amongst the snows, and they think that, tired and half starved, our poor fellows will be marching to their death, leaving their enemies very little work to do beside cutting down the stragglers. Ah, depend upon it, all these little petty generals think they have a great victory within their hands without any cost to themselves, and that none of our poor fellows will get across the pa.s.s alive."

"Oh, don't talk, Serge," cried Marcus, excitedly. "Look at the enemy!

There's more and more of them getting into motion. They are beginning to come from all round."

"Yes, as I said before, like a nest of stingers stirred up with a stick; but we are getting all in motion too," continued Serge. "Every captain has had his orders, and he's beginning to head his men as it comes to his turn. Look how the infantry are tramping along to lead the way!

Now the horse are getting ready to start! Take it coolly, my lads. You ought to be leading those horses over that stony ground; but I suppose the general wants to make a show and let it seem as if we were in full retreat."

"Will the chariots go next?" asked Marcus.

"Yes, boy, of course, with the baggage behind them, and all the strength of the infantry to form the rear-guard. You can see that for yourself, for the foot-men haven't moved."

"No," said Marcus, "but the enemy are moving more and more into two great parties, advancing so as to meet where the pa.s.s begins to narrow.

Why, Serge, if they get there first they'll cut our retreating line in two."

"They would," said the old soldier, with a chuckle, "if they could, but our general will be too smart for that. He's got it all carefully planned out, and when those two great streams of men come together out yonder they will be well in the rear. But now look at them. You can see right round the camp from here. What are the enemy doing? Trying to surround us?"

"No," said Marcus, after a long inspection; "they are all gradually turning in the same direction and getting into motion, as if to drive us back into the pa.s.s."

"Yes, and it looks pretty and bright up yonder with the sun s.h.i.+ning on the snow. To see it from here, boy, no one would think it meant bitter winds and a cold that cuts through you and turns men drowsy so that they want to lie down and die."

"No," said Marcus, with a slight shudder. "Ah!" he added, excitedly.

"Our big rear-guard is beginning to stir, and the enemy are still moving on. Why, in a short time the lower part of the camp will have none of them beyond it."

"That's right," cried Serge, as he shaded his eyes and gazed long and fixedly towards the lower part of the amphitheatre far beyond which, looking green and beautiful, stretched away the sunny plains of Gaul; "and that means, boy, that things will be just as our general intended that they should, clear of the enemy and ready for us to creep cautiously down like a pack of deserters trying to save our skins."

"Yes, but I want to be moving," cried Marcus, who was ready to stamp with impatience. "I want to be leading the horses down through this wilderness of rocks so as to get away to the open land, where we can send them off at a gallop with the wind whistling about their ears. I want to see their manes and tails flying, Serge, and feel the chariot rock as the wheels spin round and b.u.mp over the hillocks and stones.

Then on and on as fast as we can go, straight for the main army, to tear up to the guards with my message and bring them back. Oh, how slowly they move! Why doesn't the chief hurry the men, and why doesn't the enemy follow them at a rush? I want to be stirring; I want to go."

"Well done, young hurry-me-up!" chuckled Serge. "That's all very pretty. You want this and you want that, and you want to be racing the ponies along and making the chariot rock and the wheels spin round, till b.u.mp, crash, one of the wheels flies off or drops to pieces, over goes the car, sending you yesterday and me to-morrow, and the driving boy with his head knocked off, while the poor ponies stand staring and broken-winded, and no message taken to the master."

"What are you talking about, Serge?" cried Marcus, angrily.

"You, boy, and what you want to do," growled the old man. "That's not the way to carry a despatch, and if we are going to get where we want, it will have to be slow and sure. It will be all very well going to the heads of the ponies as soon as the way's clear and leading them in and out amongst the rocks, so that if any of the enemy sees us he'll think we are sneaking away; but when that's done and we are clear of the enemy, what then?"

"Why, we must gallop off," cried Marcus, excitedly. "This is not a time for your slow and sure."

"Oh, arn't it?" grumbled Serge. "Then you want to gallop right away at once, do you?"

"Of course."

"Which way? What way? And how?"

"What are you talking about?" cried Marcus.

"You know, and yet you don't know. Where's our army? Haven't we got to find the track they left?"

"Of course."

"Yes, of course, boy, but where's the beginning of it?" growled Serge, as he made a comprehensive motion, sweeping round one hand. "There will be no one to ask, for the country will be cleared--all the fighting men gone to the wars, all the women and children and old folk hiding among the mountains. Our army will have made a clean sweep of everything, and we have got to eat. It all sounds very nice, my boy, but to go off at a gallop such as you speak of means riding to nowhere, and the army never found."

"Oh, Serge, don't talk like that."

"Must, boy. We will gallop when we can, but lots of the time we shall pretty well have to crawl."

"Oh!" groaned Marcus, as he felt the truth of the old soldier's words.

"There, don't make a noise like that, but look round here and see what's going on. It's a sight, boy, such as you may never see again."

"I can't stand and look at sights," cried the boy, angrily.