The Roman Traitor Volume Ii Part 33

"And we?"-asked one of the veterans-

"Disperse yourselves among the hills, and make your way singly to the camp. He will not think of you, with us before him!"-

"Farewell! The G.o.ds guide and guard thee!"-

"We shall much need, I fear, their guidance!" answered the legionary, setting off at a swift pace, still bearing Julia, who was now beginning to revive in the fresh air, following hard on Lucia, who ran, literally like the wind, to the spot where she had tied her own beautiful white Ister, and another horse, a powerful and well-bred Thracian charger, to the stems of two chesnut trees, in readiness for any fortunes.

Rapidly as the soldier ran, still the light-footed girl outstripped him, and when he reached the sandy road, she had already loosened the reins from the trees to which they had been attached, and held them in readiness.

"Mount, mount" cried Lucia, "for your life! I will help you to lift her."

"I am better now," exclaimed Julia-"Oh ye G.o.ds! and safe too! I can help myself now! and in an instant she was seated behind the stout man-at-arms, and clinging with both hands to his sword belt.

"If you see me no more, as I think you will not, Julia, tell Paullus, Lucia saved you, and-died, for love of him! Now-ride! ride! ride! for your life ride!"

And giving their good horses head they sprang forth, plying the rein and scourge, at headlong speed.

As they ascended the first little hillock, they saw the troopers of Catiline pouring out of the watch-tower gate, and thundering down the slope toward the bridge, with furious shouts, at a rate scarcely inferior to their own.

They had but one hope of safety. To reach the little bridge and pa.s.s it before their pursuers should gain it, and cut off their retreat toward their friends, whom they knew to be nigh at hand; but to do so appeared well nigh impossible.

It was a little in their favor that the steeds of Catiline's troopers had been hara.s.sed by a long and unusually rapid night march, while their own were fresh and full of spirit; but this advantage was neutralized at least by the double weight which impeded the progress and bore down the energies of the n.o.ble Thracian courser, bearing Julia and the soldier.

Again it was in their favor that the road on their side the chasm was somewhat shorter and much more level than that by which Catiline and his riders were straining every nerve, gallopping on a parallel line with the tremulous and excited fugitives; but this advantage also was diminished by the fact that they must turn twice at right angles-once to gain the bridge, and once more into the high road beyond it-while the rebels had a straight course, though down a hill side so steep that it might well be called precipitous.

The day had by this time broken, and either party could see the other clearly, even to the dresses of the men and the colors of the horses, not above the sixth part of a mile being occupied by the valley of the stream dividing the two roads.

For life! fire flashed from the flinty road at every bound of the brave coursers, and blood flew from every whirl of the knotted thong; but gallantly the high-blooded beasts answered it. At every bound they gained a little on their pursuers, whose horses foamed and labored down the abrupt descent, one or two of them falling and rolling over their riders, so steep was the declivity.

For life! Catiline had gained the head of his party, and his black horse had outstripped them by several lengths.

If the course had been longer the safety of the fugitives would have been now certain; but so brief was the s.p.a.ce and so little did they gain in that awful race, that the nicest eye hardly could have calculated which first would reach the bridge.

So secure of his prize was Catiline, that his keen blade was already out, and as he bowed over his charger's neck, goring his flanks with his b.l.o.o.d.y spurs, he shouted in his hoa.r.s.e demoniacal accents, "Victory and vengeance!"

Still, hopeful and dauntless, the stout legionary gallopped on-"Courage!"

he exclaimed, "courage, lady, we shall first cross the bridge!"-

Had Lucia chosen it, with her light weight and splendid horsemans.h.i.+p, she might easily have left Julia and the soldier, easily have crossed the defile in advance of Catiline, easily have escaped his vengeance. But she reined in white Ister, and held him well in hand behind the others, muttering to herself in low determined accents, "She shall be saved, but my time is come!"

Suddenly there was a hasty shout of alarm from the troopers on the other side, "Hold, Catiline! Rein up! Rein up!" and several of the foremost riders drew in their horses. Within a minute all except Catiline had halted.

"They see our friends! they are close at hand! We are saved! by the Immortal G.o.ds! we are saved!" cried the legionary, with a cry of triumph.

But in reply, across the narrow gorge, came the hoa.r.s.e roar of Catiline, above the din of his thundering gallop.-"By Hades! Death! or vengeance!"

"Ride! ride!" shrieked Lucia from behind, "Ride, I say, fool! you are _not_ saved! He will not halt for a beat when revenge spurs him! For your life! ride!"

It was a fearful crisis.

The Thracian charger reached the bridge. The hollow arch resounded but once under his clanging hoofs-the second stride cleared it. He wheeled down the road, and Julia, pale as death, whose eyes had been closed in the agony of that fearful expectation, unclosed them at the legionary's joyous shout, but closed them again in terror and despair with a faint shriek, as they met the grim countenance of Catiline, distorted with every h.e.l.lish pa.s.sion, and splashed with blood gouts from his reeking courser's side, thrust forward parallel nearly to the black courser's foamy jaws-both nearly within arm's length of her, as it appeared to her excited fancy.

"We are lost! we are lost!" she screamed.

"We are saved! we are saved!" shouted the soldier as he saw coming up the road at a gallop to meet them, the bronze casques and floating horse-hair crests, and scarlet cloaks, of a whole squadron of legionary cavalry, arrayed beneath a golden eagle-the head of their column scarcely distant three hundred yards.

But they were not saved yet, nor would have been-for Catiline's horse was close upon their croupe and his uplifted blade almost flashed over them-when, with a wild cry, Lucia dashed her white Ister at full speed, as she crossed the bridge, athwart the counter of black Erebus.

The thundering speed at which the black horse came down the hill, and the superior weight of himself and his rider, hurled the white palfrey and the brave girl headlong; but his stride was checked, and, blown as he was, he stumbled, and rolled over, horse and man.

A minute was enough to save them, and before Lucia had regained her feet, the ranks of the new comers had opened to receive the fugitives, and had halted around them, in some slight confusion.

"The G.o.ds be blessed for ever!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands, and raising her eyes to heaven. "I have saved her!"

"And lost thyself, thrice miserable fool!" hissed a hoa.r.s.e well known voice in her ear, as a heavy hand seized her by the shoulder, and twisted her violently round.

She stood face to face with Catiline, and met his horrid glare of hate with a glance prouder than his own and brighter. She smiled triumphantly, as she said in a clear high voice,

"I have saved her!"

"For which, take thy reward, in this, and this, and this!"

And with the words he dealt her three stabs, the least of which was mortal; but, even in that moment of dread pa.s.sion, with fiendish ingenuity he endeavored to avoid giving her a wound that should be directly fatal.

"There writhe, and howl, 'till slow death relieve you!"

"Meet end to such beginning!" cried the unhappy girl. "Adulterous parent!

incestuous seducer! kindred slayer! ha! ha! ha! ha!" and with a wild laugh she fell to the ground and lay with her eyes closed, motionless and for the moment senseless.

But he, with his child's blood smoking on his hand, shook his sword aloft fiercely against the legionaries, and leaping on his black horse which had arisen from the ground unhurt by its fall, gallopped across the bridge; and plunging through the underwood into the deep chesnut forest was lost to the view of the soldiers, who had spurred up in pursuit of him, that they abandoned it ere long as hopeless.

It was not long that Lucia lay oblivious of her sufferings. A sense of fresh coolness on her brow, and the checked flow of the blood, which gushed from those cruel wounds, were the first sensations of which she became aware.

But, as she opened her eyes, they met well known and loving faces; and soft hands were busy about her bleeding gashes; and hot tears were falling on her poor pallid face from eyes that seldom wept.

Julia was kneeling at her side, Paullus Arvina was bending over her in speechless grat.i.tude, and sorrow; and the stern cavaliers of the legion, unused to any soft emotions, stood round holding their chargers' bridles with frowning brows, and lips quivering with sentiments, which few of them had experienced since the far days of their gentler boyhood.

"Oh! happy," she exclaimed, in a soft low tone, "how happy it is so to die! and in dying to see thee, Paullus."

"Oh! no! no! no!" cried Julia, "you must not, shall not die! my friend, my sister! O, tell her, Paullus, that she will not die, that she will yet be spared to our prayers, our love, our grat.i.tude, our veneration."

But Paullus spoke not; a soldier, and a man used to see death in all shapes in the arena, he knew that there was no hope, and, had his life depended on it, he could not, at that moment have deceived her.

Little, however, cared the dying girl for that; even if she had heard or comprehended the appeal. Her ears, her mind, were full of other thoughts, and a bright beautiful irradiation played over her wan lips and ashy features, as she cried joyously, although her voice was very tremulous and weak.

"Paullus, do you hear that? her friend! her sister! Paullus, Paullus, do you hear that? Julia calls me her friend-me, me her sister! me the disgraced-"

"Peace! peace! Dear Lucia! you must not speak such words!" said Paullus.

"Be your past errors what they may-and who am I, that I should talk of errors?-this pure high love-this delicate devotion-this death most heroical and glorious no! no! I cannot-" and the strong man bowed his head upon his hands, and burst into an agony of tears and pa.s.sion.