31752	----	public domain material generously made available by the Google Books Library Project (http://books.google.com/) Note: Images of the original pages are available through the the Google Books Library Project. See http://books.google.com/books?vid=MCYnAAAAMAAJ&id THE GOLD SICKLE Or Hena, The Virgin of The Isle of Sen A Tale of Druid Gaul by EUGENE SUE Translated from the Original French by Daniel De Leon New York Labor News Company, 1904 Copyright, 1904, by the New York Labor News Company TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE _The Gold Sickle; or, Hena the Virgin of the Isle of Sen_, is the initial story of the series that Eugene Sue wrote under the collective title of _The Mysteries of the People; or, History of a Proletarian Family Across the Ages_. The scheme of this great work of Sue's was stupendously ambitious--and the author did not fall below the ideal that he pursued. His was the purpose of producing a comprehensive "universal history," dating from the beginning of the present era down to his own days. But the history that he proposed to sketch was not to be a work for closet study. It was to be a companion in the stream of actual, every-day life and struggle, with an eye especially to the successive struggles of the successively ruled with the successively ruling classes. In the execution of his design, Sue conceived a plan that was as brilliant as it was poetic--withal profoundly philosophic. One family, the descendants of a Gallic chief named Joel, typifies the oppressed; one family, the descendants of a Frankish chief and conqueror named Neroweg, typifies the oppressor; and across and adown the ages, the successive struggles between oppressors and oppressed--the history of civilization--is thus represented in a majestic allegory. In the execution of this superb plan a thread was necessary to connect the several epochs with one another, to preserve the continuity requisite for historic accuracy, and, above all, to give unity and point to the silent lesson taught by the unfolding drama. Sue solved the problem by an ingenious scheme--a series of stories, supposedly written from age to age, sometimes at shorter, other times at longer intervals, by the descendants of the ancestral type of the oppressed, narrating their special experience and handing the supplemented chronicle down to their successors from generation to generation, always accompanied with some emblematic relic, that constitutes the first name of each story. The series, accordingly, though a work presented in the garb of "fiction," is the best universal history extant: Better than any work, avowedly on history, it graphically traces the special features of class-rule as they have succeeded one another from epoch to epoch, together with the special character of the struggle between the contending classes. The "Law," "Order," "Patriotism," "Religion," "Family," etc., etc., that each successive tyrant class, despite its change of form, fraudulently sought refuge in to justify its criminal existence whenever threatened; the varying economic causes of the oppression of the toilers; the mistakes incurred by these in their struggles for redress; the varying fortunes of the conflict;--all these social dramas are therein reproduced in a majestic series of "novels" covering leading and successive episodes in the history of the race--an inestimable gift, above all to our own generation, above all to the American working class, the short history of whose country deprives it of historic back-ground. It is not until the fifth story is reached--the period of the Frankish conquest of Gaul, 486 of the present era--that the two distinct streams of the typical oppressed and typical oppressor meet. But the four preceding ones are necessary, and preparatory for the main drama, that starts with the fifth story and that, although carried down to the revolution of 1848 which overthrew Louis Philippe in France, reaches its grand climax in _The Sword of Honor; or, The Foundation of the French Republic_, that is, the French Revolution. These stories are nineteen in number, and their chronological order is the following: 1. The Gold Sickle; or, Hena, the Virgin of the Isle of Sen; 2. The Brass Bell; or, The Chariot of Death; 3. The Iron Collar; or, Faustine and Syomara; 4. The Silver Cross; or, The Carpenter of Nazareth; 5. The Casque's Lark; or, Victoria, The Mother of the Fields; 6. The Poniard's Hilt; or, Karadeucq and Ronan; 7. The Branding Needle; or, The Monastery of Charolles; 8. The Abbatial Crosier; or, Bonaik and Septimine; 9. Carlovingian Coins; or, The Daughters of Charlemagne; 10. The Iron Arrow-Head; or, The Maid of the Buckler; 11. The Infant's Skull; or, The End of the World; 12. The Pilgrim's Shell; or, Fergan the Quarryman; 13. The Iron Pincers; or, Mylio and Karvel; 14. The Iron Trevet; or, Jocelyn the Champion; 15. The Executioner's Knife; or, Joan of Arc; 16. The Pocket Bible; or, Christian the Printer; 17. The Blacksmith's Hammer; or, The Peasant-Code; 18. The Sword of Honor; or, The Foundation of the French Republic; 19. The Galley-Slave's Ring; or, The Family of Lebrenn. Long and effectually has the influence of the usurping class in the English-speaking world succeeded in keeping this brilliant torch that Eugene Sue lighted, from casting its rays across the path of the English-speaking peoples. Several English translations were attempted before this, in England and this country, some fifty years ago. They were all fractional: they are all out of print now: most of them are not to be found even in public libraries of either England or America, not a wrack being left to them, little more than a faint tradition. Only two of the translations are not wholly obliterated. One of them was published by Trübner & Co. jointly with David Nutt, both of London, in 1863; the other was published by Clark, 448 Broome street, New York, in 1867. The former was anonymous, the translator's identity being indicated only with the initials "K. R. H. M." It contains only eight of the nineteen stories of the original, and even these are avowedly abridgments. The latter was translated by Mary L. Booth, and it broke off before well under way--extinguished as if snuffed off by a gale. Even these two luckier fragmentary translations, now surviving only as curios in a few libraries, attest the vehemence and concertedness of the effort to suppress this great gift of Sue's intellect to the human race. It will be thus no longer. _The Mysteries of the People; or, History of a Proletarian Family Across the Ages_ will henceforth enlighten the English-speaking toiling masses as well. DANIEL DE LEON. New York, May 1, 1904. INDEX. Translator's Preface iii Chapter 1. The Guest 1 Chapter 2. A Gallic Homestead 11 Chapter 3. Armel and Julyan 20 Chapter 4. The Story of Albrege 27 Chapter 5. The Story of Syomara 33 Chapter 6. The Story of Gaul 39 Chapter 7. "War! War! War!" 45 Chapter 8. "Farewell!" 53 Chapter 9. The Forest of Karnak 66 CHAPTER I. THE GUEST. He who writes this account is called Joel, the brenn[A] of the tribe of Karnak; he is the son of Marik, who was the son of Kirio, the son of Tiras, the son of Gomer, the son of Vorr, the son of Glenan, the son of Erer, the son of Roderik chosen chief of the Gallic army that, now two hundred and seventy-seven years ago, levied tribute upon Rome. [A] Gallic word for chief. Joel (why should I not say so?) feared the gods, he was of a right heart, a steady courage and a cheerful mind. He loved to laugh, to tell stories, and above all to hear them told, like the genuine Gaul that he was. At the time when Cæsar invaded Gaul (may his name be accursed!), Joel lived two leagues from Alrè, not far from the sea and the isle of Roswallan, near the edge of the forest of Karnak, the most celebrated forest of Breton Gaul. One evening towards nightfall--the evening before the anniversary of the day when Hena, his daughter, his well-beloved daughter was born unto him--it is now eighteen years ago--Joel and his eldest son Guilhern were returning home in a chariot drawn by four of those fine little Breton oxen whose horns are smaller than their ears. Joel and his son had been laying marl on their lands, as is usually done in the autumn, so that the lands may be in good condition for seed-time in the spring. The chariot was slowly climbing up the hill of Craig'h at a place where that mountainous road is narrowed between two rocks, and from where the sea is seen at a distance, and still farther away the Isle of Sen--the mysterious and sacred isle. "Father," Guilhern said to Joel, "look down there below on the flank of the hill. There is a rider coming this way. Despite the steepness of the descent, he has put his horse to a gallop." "As sure as the good Elldud invented the plow, that man will break his neck." "Where can he be riding to in such a hurry? The sun is going down; the wind blows high and threatens a storm; and that road that leads to the desert strand--" "Son, that man is not of Breton Gaul. He wears a furred cap and a shaggy coat, and his tanned-skin hose are fastened with red bands." "A short axe hangs at his right and he has a long knife in a sheath at his left." "His large black horse does not seem to stumble in the descent.... Where can he be going in such a hurry?" "Father, the man must have lost his way." "Oh, my son, may Teutates hear you! We shall tender our hospitality to the rider. His dress tells he is a stranger. What beautiful stories will he not be able to tell us of his country and his travels!" "May the divine Ogmi, whose words bind men in golden chains, be propitious to us, father! It is long since any strange story-teller has sat at our hearth." "Besides, we have had no news of what is going on elsewhere in Gaul." "Unfortunately so!" "Oh, my son, if I were all-powerful as Hesus, I would have a new story-teller every evening at supper." "I would send men traveling everywhere, and have them return and tell their adventures." "And if I had the power of Hesus, what wonderful adventures would I not provide for my travelers so as to increase the interest in their stories on their return." "Father, the rider is coming close to us!" "Yes, he reins in because the road is here narrow, and we bar his passage with our chariot. Come, Guilhern, the moment is favorable; the passenger must have lost his way; let us offer him hospitality for to-night. We shall then keep him to-morrow, and perhaps several other days. We shall have done him a good turn, and he will give us the news from Gaul and of the other countries that he has visited." "Besides, it will be a great joy to my sister Hena who is to come home to-morrow for the feast of her birthday." "Oh, Guilhern, I never thought of the pleasure that my beloved daughter will have listening to the stranger! He must be our guest!" "That he shall be, father! Indeed, he shall!" answered Guilhern resolutely. Joel and his son alighted from the chariot, and advanced towards the rider. Once close to him, both were struck with the majesty of the stranger's looks. Nothing haughtier than his eyes, more masculine than his face, more worthy than his bearing. On his forehead and on one cheek were visible the traces of two wounds only freshly healed. To judge by his dauntless appearance, the rider must have been one of those chiefs whom the tribes elect from time to time to lead them in battle. Joel and his son were all the more anxious to have him accept their hospitality. "Friend traveler," said Joel, "night is upon us; you have lost your way; the road you are on leads nowhere but to the desert strands; the tide will soon be washing over them because the wind is blowing high. To keep on your route by night would be dangerous. Come to my house. You may resume your journey to-morrow." "I have not lost my way; I know where I am going to; and I am in a hurry. Turn your oxen aside; make room for me to pass," was the brusque answer of the rider, whose forehead was wet with perspiration from the hurry of his course. By his accent he seemed to be from central Gaul, towards the Loire. After having thus addressed Joel, he struck his large black horse with both heels in the flanks and tried to draw still nearer to the oxen that now completely barred his passage. "Friend traveler, did you not hear me?" rejoined Joel. "I told you that this road led only to the seashore, that night was on, and that I offer you my house." The stranger, however, beginning to wax angry, replied: "I do not need your hospitality.... Draw your oxen aside.... Do you not see that the rocks leave me no passage either way?... Hurry up; I am in haste--" "Friend," said Joel, "you are a stranger; I am of this country; it is my duty to prevent you from going astray.... I shall do my duty--" "By Ritha-Gaür, who made himself a blouse out of the beard of the kings he shaved!" cried the stranger, now in towering rage. "I have traveled a deal since my beard began to grow, have seen many countries, many peoples and many strange customs, but never yet have I come across two fools like these!" Learning from the mouth of the stranger himself that he had seen many countries, many peoples and many strange customs, Joel and his son, both of whom were passionately fond of hearing stories, concluded that many and charming must be the ones the stranger could tell, and they felt all the more desirous of securing such a guest. Accordingly, so far from turning the chariot aside, Joel advanced close to the rider, and said to him with the sweetest voice that he could master, his natural voice being rather rough: "Friend, you shall go no further! I wish to be respectful to the gods, above all to Teutates, the god of travelers, and shall therefore keep you from going astray by making you spend a good night under a good roof, instead of allowing you to wander about the strand, where you would run the risk of being drowned in the rising tide." "Take care!" replied the unknown rider carrying his hand to the axe that hung from his belt. "Take care!... If you do not forthwith turn your oxen aside, I shall make a sacrifice to the gods, and shall join you to the offering!" "The gods cannot choose but protect such a worshipper as yourself," answered Joel, who, smiling, had passed a few words in a low voice to his son. "The gods will prevent you from spending the night on the strand.... You'll see--" Father and son precipitated themselves unexpectedly upon the traveler. Each took him by a leg, and both being large and robust men, raised him erect over his saddle, giving at the same time a thump with their knees to his horse's belly. The animal ran ahead, and Joel and Guilhern respectfully lowered the rider on his feet to the ground. Now in a wild rage, the traveler tried to resist, but before he could draw his knife he was held fast by Joel and Guilhern, one of whom produced a strong rope with which they firmly tied the stranger's feet and hands--all of which was done with great mildness and affability on the part of the story-greedy father and son, who despite the furious wrestling of the stranger, deposited him on the chariot with increasing respect and politeness, seeing they were increasingly struck by the virile dignity of his face. Guilhern then mounted the traveler's horse and followed the chariot that Joel led, urging on the oxen with his goad. They were in earnest haste to reach the shelter of their house: the gale increased; the roar of the waves was heard dashing upon the rocks along the coast; streaks of lightning glistened through the darkening clouds; all the signs portended a stormy night. All these threatening signs notwithstanding, the unknown rider seemed nowise thankful for the hospitality that Joel and his son had pressed upon him. Extended on the bottom of the chariot he was pale with rage. He ground his teeth and puffed at his mouth. But keeping his anger to himself he said not a word. Joel (it must be admitted) passionately loved a story, but he also passionately loved to talk. He turned to the stranger: "My guest, for such you are now, I give thanks to Teutates, the god of travelers, for having sent me a guest. You should know who I am. Yes, I must tell you who I am, seeing you are to sit down at my hearth;" and unaffected by the stranger's gesture of anger, which seemed to say he cared not to know who Joel was, the latter proceeded: "My name is Joel ... I am the son of Marik, who was the son of Kirio ... Kirio was the son of Tiras ... Tiras was the son of Gomer ... Gomer was the son of Vorr ... Vorr was the son of Glenan ... Glenan, son of Erer, who was the son of Roderik, chosen brenn of the confederated Gallic army, who two hundred and seventy-six years ago levied tribute upon Rome in order to punish the Romans for their treachery. I have been chosen brenn of my tribe, which is the tribe of Karnak. From father to son we have been peasants; we cultivate our fields as best we can, following the example left by Coll to our ancestors.... We sow more wheat and barley than rye and oats." The stranger continued nursing his rage rather than paying any attention to these details. Joel continued imperturbably: "Thirty-two years ago, I married Margarid, the daughter of Dorlern. I have from her three sons and a daughter. The elder boy is there behind us, leading your good black horse, friend guest ... his name is Guilhern. He and several other relatives help me in the cultivation of our field. I raise a good many black sheep that pasture on our meadows, as well as half-wild hogs, as vicious as wolves and who never sleep under a roof.... We have some fine meadows in this valley of Alrè.... I also raise horses, colts of my spirited stallion Tom-Bras.[B] My son amuses himself raising war and hunting dogs. The hunting dogs are of the breed of a greyhound named Tyntammar; the ones destined for war are the whelps of a large mastiff named Deber-Trud.[C] Our horses and our dogs are so renowned that people come more than twenty leagues from here to buy them. So you see, my guest, that you might have fallen into a worse house." [B] Ardent. [C] Man-eater. The stranger emitted a sigh of suppressed rage, bit what he could reach of his long blonde mustache and raised his eyes to heaven. Joel proceeded while pricking his oxen: "Mikael, my second son, is an armorer at Alrè, four leagues from here.... He does not fashion war implements only, but also plow-coulters and long Gallic scythes and axes that are highly prized, because he draws his iron from the mountains of Arres.... But there is more, friend traveler.... Mikael does other things besides. Before establishing himself at Alrè, he was at Bourges and worked with one of our parents who is a descendant of the first artisan who ever conceived the idea of alloying iron and copper with block-tin, a composition in which the artisans of Bourges excel.... Thus my son Mikael came away a worthy pupil of his masters. Oh, if you only saw the things he turns out! You would think the horse's bits, the chariot ornaments, the superb casques of war that Mikael manufactures to be of silver! He has just finished a casque the point of which represents an elk's head with its horns.... There is nothing more magnificent!" "O!" murmured the stranger between his teeth, "how true is the saying: 'The Sword of a Gaul kills but once, his tongue massacres you without end!'" "Friend guest, so far I can bestow no praise upon your tongue, which is as silent as a fish's. But I shall await your leisure, when it will be your turn to tell me who you are, whence you come, where you are going to, what you have seen in your travels, what wonderful people you have met, and the latest news from the sections of Gaul that you have traversed. While waiting for your narratives, I shall finish informing you about myself and family." At this threat the stranger contorted his members in an effort to snap his bonds; he failed; the rope was staunch, and Joel as well as his son made perfect knots. "I have not yet spoken to you of my third son Albinik the sailor," continued Joel. "He traffics with the island of Great Britanny, as well as all the ports of Gaul, and he goes as far as Spain carrying Gascony wines and salted provisions from Aquitaine.... Unfortunately he has been at sea a long time with his lovely wife Meroë; so you will not see them this evening at my house. I told you that besides three sons I had a daughter ... as to her! Oh, as to her!... See here," added Joel with an air that was at once boastful and tender, "she is the pearl of the family.... It is not I only who say so, my wife also, my sons, my whole tribe says the same thing. There is but one voice to sing the praises of Hena, the daughter of Joel ... of Hena, one of the virgins of the Isle of Sen." "What!" cried the traveler sitting up with a start, the only motion allowed to him by his bonds, that held his feet tied and his arms pinioned behind him. "What? Your daughter? Is she one of the virgins of the Isle of Sen?" "That seems to astonish and somewhat mollify you, friend guest!" "Your daughter?" the stranger proceeded, as if unable to believe what he heard. "Your daughter?... Is she one of the nine druid priestesses of the Isle of Sen?" "As true as that to-morrow it will be eighteen years since she was born! We have been preparing to celebrate her birthday, and you may attend the feast. The guest seated at our hearth is of our family.... You will see my daughter. She is the most beautiful, the sweetest, the wisest of her companions, without thereby detracting from any of them." "Very well, then," brusquely replied the unknown, "I shall pardon you the violence you committed upon me." "Hospitable violence, friend." "Hospitable, or not, you prevented me by force from proceeding to the wharf of Erer, where a boat awaited me until sunset, to take me to the Isle of Sen." At these words Joel broke out laughing. "What are you laughing about?" asked the stranger. "If you were to tell me that a boat with the head of a dog, the wings of a bird and the tail of a fish was waiting for you to take you to the sun, I would laugh as loud, and for the same reason. You are my guest; I shall not insult you by telling you that you lie. But I will tell you, friend, you are joking when you talk of a boat that is to take you to the Isle of Sen. No man, excepting the very oldest druids, have ever or ever will set foot on the Isle of Sen." "And when you go there to see your daughter?" "I do not step on the isle. I stop at the little island of Kellor. There I wait for my daughter, and she goes there to meet me." "Friend Joel," said the traveler, "you have so willed it that I be your guest; I am that, and, as such, I ask a service of you. Take me to-morrow in your boat to the little island of Kellor." "Do you know that the ewaghs watch day and night?" "I know it. It was one of them who was to come for me this evening at the wharf of Erer to conduct me to Talyessin the oldest of the druids, who, at this hour, is at the Isle of Sen with his wife Auria." "That is true!" exclaimed Joel much surprised. "The last time my daughter came home she said that Talyessin was on the isle since the new year, and that the wife of Talyessin tendered her a mother's care." "You see, you may believe me, friend Joel. Take me to-morrow to the island of Kellor; I shall see one of the ewaghs." "I consent. I shall take you to the island of Kellor." "And now you may loosen my bonds. I swear by Hesus that I shall not seek to elude your hospitality." "Very well," responded Joel, loosening the stranger's bonds; "I trust my guest's promise." While this conversation proceeded it had grown pitch dark. But the darkness notwithstanding and the difficulties of the road, the chariot, conducted by the sure hand of Joel, rolled up before his house. His son, Guilhern, who, mounted on the stranger's horse, had followed the van, took an ox-horn that was opened at both ends, and using it for a trumpet blew three times. The signal was speedily answered by a great barking of dogs. "Here we are at home!" said Joel to the stranger. "Be not alarmed at the barking of the dogs. Listen! That loud voice that dominates all the others is Deber-Trud's, from whom descends the valiant breed of war dogs that you will see to-morrow. My son Guilhern will take your horse to the stable. The animal will find a good shelter and plenty of provender." At the sound of Guilhern's trump, one of the family came out of the house holding a resin torch. Guided by the light, Joel led his oxen and the chariot entered the yard. CHAPTER II. A GALLIC HOMESTEAD. Like all other rural homes, Joel's was spacious and round of shape. The walls consisted of two rows of hurdles, the space between which was filled with a mixture of beaten clay and straw; the inside and outside of the thick wall was plastered over with a layer of fine and fattish earth, which, when dry, was hard as sandstone. The roofing was large and projecting. It consisted of oaken joists joined together and covered with a layer of seaweed laid so thick that it was proof against water. On either side of the house stood the barns destined for the storage of the harvest, and also for the stables, the sheepfolds, the kennels, the storerooms and the washrooms. These several structures formed an oblong square that surrounded a large yard, closed up at night with a massive gate. On the outside, a strong palisade, raised on the brow of a deep ditch, enclosed the system of buildings, leaving between it and them an alley about four feet wide. Two large and ferocious war mastiffs were let loose during the night in the vacant space. The palisade had an exterior door that corresponded with an interior one. All were locked at night. The number of men, women and children--all more or less near relatives of Joel--who cultivated fields in common with him, was considerable. These lodged in the houses attached to the principal building, where they met at noon and in the evening to take their joint meals. Other homesteads, similarly constructed and occupied by numerous families who cultivated lands in common, lay scattered here and there over the landscape and composed the _ligniez_, or tribe of Karnak, of which Joel was chosen chief. Upon his entrance in the yard of his homestead, Joel was received with the caresses of his old war dog Deber-Trud, an animal of an iron grey color streaked with black, an enormous head, blood-shot eyes, and of such a high stature that in standing up to caress his master he placed his front paws upon Joel's shoulders. He was a dog of such boldness that he once fought a monstrous bear of the mountains of Arres, and killed him. As to his war qualities, Deber-Trud would have been worthy of figuring with the war pack of Bithert, the Gallic chieftain who at sight of a small hostile troop said disdainfully: "They are not enough for a meal for my dogs." As Deber-Trud looked over and smelled the traveler with a doubtful air, Joel said to the animal: "Do you not see he is a guest whom I bring home?" As if he understood the words, Deber-Trud ceased showing any uneasiness about the stranger, and gamboled clumsily ahead of his master into the house. The house was partitioned into three sections of unequal size. The two smaller ones, separated from each other and from the main hall by oaken panels, were destined, one for Joel and his wife, the other for Hena, their daughter, when she came to visit the family. The vast hall between the two served as a dining-room, and in it were performed the noon and evening in-door labors. When the stranger entered the hall, a large fire of beech wood, enlivened with dry brush wood and seaweed burned in the hearth, and with its brilliancy rendered superfluous the light of a handsome lamp of burnished copper that hung from three chains of the same metal. The lamp was a present from Mikael the armorer. Two whole sheep, impaled in long iron spits broiled before the hearth, while salmon and other sea fish boiled in a large pewter pot filled with water, seasoned with vinegar, salt and caraway. The panels were ornamented with heads of wolves, boars, cerfs and of two wild bulls called _urok_, an animal that began to be rare in the region; beside them hung hunting weapons, such as bows, arrows and slings, and weapons of war, such as the _sparr_ and the _matag_, axes, sabres of copper, bucklers of wood covered with the tough skin of seals, and long lances with iron heads, sharpened and barbed and provided with little brass bells, intended to notify the enemy from afar that the Gallic warrior approached, seeing that the latter disdains ambuscades, and loves to fight in the open. There were also fishing nets and harpoons to harpoon the salmon in the shallows when the tide goes out. To the right of the main door stood a kind of altar, consisting of a block of granite, surmounted and covered by large oak branches freshly cut. A little copper bowl lay on the stone in which seven twigs of mistletoe stood. From above, on the wall, the following inscription looked down: Abundance and Heaven Are for the Just and the Pure. He is Pure and Holy Who Performs Celestial Works and Pure. When Joel stepped into the house, he approached the copper basin in which stood the seven branches of mistletoe and reverently put his lips to each. His guest followed his example, and then both walked towards the hearth. At the hearth was Mamm' Margarid, Joel's wife, with a distaff. She was tall of stature, and wore a short, sleeveless tunic of brown wool over a long robe of grey with narrow sleeves, both tunic and robe being fastened around her waist with her apron string. A white cap, cut square, left exposed her grey hair, that parted over her forehead. Like many other women of her kin, she wore a coral necklace round her neck, bracelets inwrought with garnets and other trinkets of gold and silver fashioned at Autun. Around Mamm' Margarid played the children of Guilhern and several other of her kin, while their young mothers busied themselves preparing supper. "Margarid," said Joel to his wife, "I bring a guest to you." "He is welcome," answered the woman without stopping to spin. "The gods send us a guest, our hearth is his own. The eve of my daughter's birth is propitious." "May your children when they travel, be received as I am by you," answered the stranger respectfully. "But you do not yet know what kind of a guest the gods have sent us, Margarid," rejoined Joel; "such a guest as one would request of Ogmi for the long autumn and winter nights; a guest who in the course of his travels has seen so many curious things and wonderful that a hundred evenings would not be too many to listen to his marvelous stories." Hardly had Joel pronounced these words when, from Mamm' Margarid and the young mothers down to the little boys and girls, all looked at the stranger with the greed of curiosity, expectant of the marvelous stories he was to tell. "Are we to have supper soon, Margarid?" asked Joel. "Our guest is probably as hungry as myself; I am hungry as a wolf." "The folk have just gone out to fill the racks of the cattle," answered Margarid; "they will be back shortly. If our guest is willing we shall be pleased of his company at supper." "I thank the wife of Joel, and shall wait," said the unknown. "And while waiting," remarked Joel, "you can tell us a story--" But the traveler interrupted his host and said smiling: "Friend, as one cup serves for all, so does the same story serve for all.... The cup will shortly circulate from lip to lip, and the story from ear to ear.... But now tell me, what is that brass belt for that I see hanging yonder?" "Have you not also in your country the belt of agility?" "Explain yourself, Joel." "Here, with us, at every new moon, the lads of each tribe come to the chief and try on the belt, in order to prove that their girth has not broadened with self-indulgence, and that they have preserved themselves agile and nimble. Those who cannot hitch the belt around themselves, are hissed, are pointed at with derision, and must pay a fine. Accordingly, all see to their stomachs lest they come to look like a leathern bottle on two skittles." "A good custom. I regret it fell into disuse in my province. And what is the purpose of that big old trunk? It is of precious wood and seems to have seen many years." "Very many. That is the family trunk of triumph," answered Joel opening the trunk, in which the stranger saw many whitened skulls. One of them, sawn in two, was mounted on a brass foot like a cup. "These are, no doubt, the heads of enemies who have been killed by your fathers, friend Joel? With us this sort of family charnel houses has long been abandoned." "With us also. I preserve these heads only out of respect for my ancestors. Since more than two hundred years, the prisoners of war are no longer mutilated. The habit existed in the days of the kings whom Ritha-Gaür shaved of their hair, as you mentioned before, to make himself a blouse out of their beards. Those were gay days of barbarism, were those days of royalty. I heard my grandfather Kirio say that even as late as in the days of his father, Tiras, the men who went to war returned to their tribes carrying the heads of their enemies stuck to the points of their lances, or trailed by the hair from the breast-plates of their horses. They were then nailed to the doors of the houses for trophies, just as you see yonder on the wall the heads of wild animals." "With us, in olden days, friend Joel, these trophies were also preserved, but preserved in cedar oil when they were the heads of a hostile chieftain." "By Hesus! Cedar oil!... What magnificence!" exclaimed Joel smiling. "That is the way our wives reason: 'for good fish, good sauce.'" "These relics were with us, as with you, the book from which the young Gaul learned of the exploits of his fathers. Often did the families of the vanquished offer to ransom these spoils; but to relinquish for money a head conquered by oneself or an ancestor was looked upon as an unpardonable crime of avarice and impiousness. I say with you, those barbarous customs passed away with royalty, and with them the days when our ancestors painted their bodies blue and scarlet, and dyed their hair and beard with lime water to impart to them a copper-red hue." "Without wronging their memory, friend guest, our ancestors must have been unpleasant beings to look upon, and must have resembled the frightful red and blue dragons that ornament the prows of the vessels of those savage pirates of the North that my son Albinik the sailor and his lovely wife Meroë have told us some curious tales about. But here are our men back from the stables; we shall not have to wait much longer for supper. I see Margarid unspitting the lambs. You shall taste them, friend, and see what a fine taste the salt meadows on which they browse impart to their flesh." All the men of the family of Joel who entered the hall wore, like him, a sleeveless blouse of coarse wool, through which the sleeves of their jackets or white shirts were passed. Their breeches reached down to their ankles; and they were shod with low slippers. Several of these laborers, just in from the fields, wore over their shoulders a cloak of sheep-skin, which they immediately took off. All wore woolen caps, long hair cut round, and bushy beards. The last two to enter held each other by the arm; they were especially handsome and robust. "Friend Joel," inquired the stranger, "who are those two young fellows? The statues of the heathen god Mars are not better shaped, nor have so valiant an aspect." "They are two relatives of mine; two cousins, Julyan and Armel. They love each other like brothers.... Quite recently an enraged bull rushed at Armel and Julyan saved Armel at the peril of his own life. Thanks to Hesus we are not now in times of war. But should it be necessary to take up arms, Julyan and Armel have taken 'the pledge of brotherhood'.... But supper is ready.... Come, yours is the seat of honor." Joel and the unknown guest drew near the table. It was round and raised somewhat above the floor which was covered with fresh straw. All around the table were seats bolstered with fragrant grass. The two broiled muttons, now quartered, were served up in large platters of beechwood, white as ivory. There were also large pieces of salted pork and a smoked ham of wild boar. The fish remained in the large pot that they had been boiled in. At the place where Joel, the head of the family, took his seat, stood a huge cup of plated copper that even two men could not have drained. It was before that cup, which marked the place of honor, that the stranger was placed with Joel at his left and Mamm' Margarid at his right. The old men, the young girls and the children then ranked themselves around the table. The grown up and the young men sat down behind these in a second row, from which they rose from time to time to perform some service, or, every time that, passing from hand to hand, beginning with the stranger, the large cup was empty, to fill it from a barrel of hydromel, that was placed at a corner of the hall. Furnished with a piece of barley or wheat bread, everyone received or took a slice of broiled or salted meat, which he cut up with his knife, or into which he bit freely without the help of knife. The old war-dog Deber-Trud, enjoying the privileges of his age and long years of service, lay at the feet of Joel, who did not forget his faithful servitor. Towards the end of the meal, Joel having carved the wild boar ham, detached the hoof, and following an ancient custom, said to his young relative Armel, handing it to him: "To you, Armel, belongs the bravest part! To you, the vanquisher in last evening's fight!" At the moment when, proud of being pronounced the bravest in the presence of the stranger, Armel was stretching out his hand to take the wild boar's hoof that Joel presented to him, an exceptionally short man in the family, nicknamed "Stumpy" by reason of his small stature, observed aloud: "Armel won in yesterday's fight because he was not fighting with Julyan. Two bullocks of equal strength avoid and fear each other, and do not lock horns." Feeling humiliated at hearing it said of them, and before a stranger, that they did not fight together because they were mutually afraid of each other, Julyan and Armel grew red in the face. With sparkling eyes, Julyan cried: "If I did not fight with Armel it was because someone else took my place; but Julyan fears Armel as little as Armel fears Julyan; and if you were but one inch taller, Stumpy, I would show you on the spot that, beginning with you, I fear nobody--not even my good brother Armel--" "Good brother Julyan!" added Armel whose eyes also began to glisten, "we shall have to prove to the stranger that we do not fear each other." "Done, Armel--let's fight with sabres and bucklers." The two friends reached out their hands to each other and pressed them warmly. They entertained no rancor for each other; they loved each other as warmly as ever; the combat decided upon by them was a not uncommon outbreak of foolhardiness. Joel was not sorry at seeing his kin act bravely before his guest; and his family shared his views. At the announcement of the battle, everybody present, even the little children and young women and girls felt joyful; they clapped their hands smiling and looked at each other proud of the good opinion that the unknown visitor was to form of the courage of their family. Mamm' Margarid thereupon addressed the young men: "The fight ends the moment I lower my distaff." "These children are feasting you at their best, friend guest," said Joel to the stranger; "you will, in turn, have to feast them by telling them and all of us some of the marvelous things that you have seen in your travels." "I could not do else than pay in my best coin for your hospitality, friend," answered the stranger. "I shall tell you the stories." "Let's hurry, brother Julyan," said Armel; "I have a strong desire to hear the traveler. I can never get tired of listening to stories, but the story-tellers are rare around Karnak." "You see, friend," said Joel, "with what impatience your stories are awaited. But before starting, and so as to give you strength, you shall presently drink to the victor with good wine of Gaul," and turning to his son: "Guilhern, fetch in the little keg of white wine from Beziers that your brother Albinik brought us on his last trip; fill up the cup in honor of the traveler." When that was done, Joel said to Julyan and Armel: "Now, boys, fall to with your sabres!" CHAPTER III. ARMEL AND JULYAN. The numerous family of Joel, gathered in a semi-circle at one end of the spacious hall, impatiently awaited the combat, with Mamm' Margarid holding the place of honor. The stranger stood at her right, her husband at her left, and two of the smallest children before her on their knees. Margarid raised her distaff and gave the signal for the combat to begin; the lowering of the distaff was to be the signal for the combat to end. Julyan and Armel stripped down to the waist, preserving their breeches only. Again they clasped hands. Each thereupon slung on his left arm a buckler of wood covered with seal-skin, armed himself with a heavy sabre of copper, and impetuously assailed each other, being all the more spurred by the presence of the stranger, before whom they were eager to display their skill and valor. Joel's guest looked more highly delighted than anyone else at the spectacle before him, and his face lighted with warlike animation. Julyan and Armel were at it. Their eyes sparkled, not with hatred but with foolhardiness. They exchanged no words of anger but of friendly cheer, all the while dealing out terrible blows that would have been deadly had they not been skillfully parried. At every thrust, brilliantly made, or dexterously avoided, the men, women and children in the audience clapped their hands, and according as the combat ran, cried: "_Her_ ... _her_ ... Julyan!" "_Her_ ... _her_ ... Armel!" Such was the effect of these cries, of the sight of the combat, of the clash of arms, that the huge mastiff Deber-Trud, the man-eater, felt the ardor of battle seize also himself, and barked wildly looking up at his master, who calmed and caressed him with his hand. Perspiration covered the young bodies of the handsome and robust Julyan and Armel. Each other's peers in courage, vigor and agility, neither had yet wounded the other. "Let's hurry, brother Julyan!" said Armel rushing on his companion with fresh impetus. "Let us hurry to hear the pretty stories of the stranger." "The plow can go no faster than the plowman, brother Armel," answered Julyan. With these words, Julyan seized his sabre with both hands, stretched himself at full length, and dealt so furious a stroke to his adversary that, although the latter threw himself back and thereby softened the blow, his buckler flew into splinters and the weapon struck Armel in the temple. The wounded man staggered for an instant and then fell flat upon his back, amid the admiring cries of "_Her_ ... _her_ ... Julyan!" from the enraptured by-standers among whom Stumpy was the loudest with the cry of "_Her_ ... _her_!" After lowering her distaff as a sign that the combat was over Mamm' Margarid stepped toward the wounded combatant to give him her attention, while Joel said to his guest, reaching him the cup: "Friend guest, you shall drink this old wine to the triumph of Julyan." "I drink to the triumph of Julyan and also to the valiant defeat of Armel!" responded the stranger. "The courage of the vanquished youth equals that of the vanquisher.... I have seen many a combat, but never have I seen greater bravery and courage displayed! Glory to the family of Joel!... Glory to your tribe!" "Formerly," said Joel, "these festive combats took place among us almost every day. Now they are rarer; they have been replaced by wrestling matches; but sabre combats better recall the habits of the old Gauls." Mamm' Margarid shook her head after a second inspection of the wound, while Julyan steadying himself against the wall sought to hold up his friend. One of the young women hurried with a casket of lint and salves, in which was also a little vial of mistletoe water. Armel's wound bled copiously; it was staunched with difficulty; the wounded youth's face was pale and his eyes closed. "Brother Armel," said Julyan to him in a cheerful voice, on his knees beside the prostrate Armel, "do not break down for so little.... Each has his day and his hour.... To-day you were wounded, to-morrow will be my turn.... We fought bravely.... The stranger will not forget the young men of Karnak and of the family of Joel, the brenn of the tribe." His face down, his forehead bathed in cold perspiration, Armel seemed not to hear the voice of his friend. Mamm' Margarid again shook her head, ordered some burnt coal, that was brought her on a little flat stone and threw on it some of the pulverized mistletoe bark. A strong vapor rose from the little brasier, and Mamm' Margarid made Armel inhale it. A little after he opened his eyes, looked around as if he awoke from a dream, and said feebly: "The angel of death calls me.... I shall now live no longer here but yonder.... My father and mother will be surprised and pleased to see me so soon.... I also shall be happy to meet them." A second later he added regretfully: "How I would have liked to hear the pretty stories of the traveler!" "What, brother Armel!" said Julyan, visibly astonished and grieved. "Are you to depart so soon from us? We were enjoying life so well together.... We swore brotherhood and never to leave each other!" "We did so swear, Julyan," Armel answered feebly, "but it is otherwise decreed." Julyan dropped his head upon his two hands and made no answer. Mamm' Margarid, skillful in the art of tending wounds, an art that she learned from a druid priestess her relative, placed her hand on Armel's heart. A few seconds later she said to those near her and who, together with Joel and his guest, stood around: "Teutates calls Armel away to take him to those who have preceded us. He will soon depart. If any of us has any message for the loved ones who have preceded us yonder, and wishes Armel to carry it--let him make haste." Mamm' Margarid thereupon kissed the forehead of the dying young man and said to him: "Give to all the members of our family the kiss of remembrance and hope." "I shall give them, Mamm' Margarid, the kiss of remembrance and hope in your name," answered Armel in a fainting voice, and added again in a pet, "and yet I would so much have liked to hear the pretty stories of the traveler!" These words seemed deeply to affect Julyan, who still holding his friend's head looked down upon him with sadness. Little Sylvest, the son of Guilhern, a child of rosy cheeks and golden hair, who held with one hand the hand of his mother Henory, advanced a little and addressing the dying relative said: "I loved little Alanik very much; he went away last year.... Tell him that little Sylvest always remembers him, and embrace him for me, Armel." "I shall embrace little Alanik for you, little Sylvest," and Armel added again, "and yet I would have liked to hear the pretty stories of the traveler!" Another man of Joel's family said to his expiring kinsman: "I was a friend of Houarne of the tribe of Morlech, our neighbor. He was killed defenceless, while asleep, a short time ago. Tell him, Armel, that Daoulas, his murderer, was discovered, was tried and condemned by the druids of Karnak and his sacrifice will soon take place. Houarne will be pleased to learn of Daoulas' punishment." Armel signified that he would convey the message to Houarne. Stumpy, who, not through wickedness but intemperate language, was the cause of Armel's death, also drew near with a message to the one about to depart, and said: "You know that at the eighth face of this month's moon old Mark, who lives near Glen'han was taken ill; the angel of death told him also to prepare for a speedy departure. Old Mark was not ready. He wished to assist at the wedding of his daughter's daughter. Not being ready to go, old Mark bethought him of some one who might be ready to go in his place and that would satisfy the angel of death. He asked the druid, his physician, if he knew of some 'substitute.' The druid answered him that Gigel of Nouaren, a member of our tribe, would be available, that he might consent to depart in the place of old Mark, and that he might be induced to do so both out of kindness to Mark and to render himself agreeable to the gods, who are always pleased at the sight of such sacrifices. Gigel consented freely. Old Mark made him a present of ten pieces of silver with the stamp of a horse's head, which Gigel distributed among his friends before departing. He then cheerfully emptied his last cup and bared his breast to the sacred knife amid the chants of the bards. The angel of death accepted the substitute. Old Mark attended the wedding of his daughter's daughter, and to-day he is in good health--" "Do you mean to say that you are willing to depart in my stead, Stumpy?" asked the dying warrior. "I fear it is now too late--" "No, no; I am not ready to depart in your stead," Stumpy hastened to answer. "I only wish to request you to return to Gigel three pieces of silver that I owed him; I could not repay him sooner. I feared Gigel might come and demand his money by moonlight in the shape of some demon." Saying which Stumpy rummaged in his lamb-skin bag, took out three pieces with the stamp of a horse's head, and placed them in the pocket of Armel's breeches. "I shall hand your three pieces of silver to Gigel," said Armel in a voice now hardly audible; and for a last time he murmured at Julyan's ear: "And yet ... I would ... have liked ... to hear ... the pretty stories ... of ... the traveler." "Be at ease, brother Armel," Julyan answered him; "I shall attentively listen to the pretty stories so that I may remember them well; and to-morrow ... I shall depart and tell them to you.... I would weary here without you.... We swore brotherhood to each other, and never to be separated; I shall follow you and continue to live yonder in your company." "Truly ... you will come?" said the dying youth, whom the promise seemed to render happy; "will you come ... to-morrow?" "To-morrow, by Hesus.... I swear to you, Armel, I shall come." The eyes of the whole family turned to Julyan at hearing the promise, and looked lovingly upon him. The wounded youth seemed the most pleased of all, and with his last breath said: "So long, then, brother Julyan ... listen attentively ... to the stories.... And now ... farewell ... farewell ... to all of you of our tribe," and Armel sought to suit the motion of his hands to his words. As loving relatives and friends crowd around one of their own when he is about to depart on a long journey, during which he will meet people of whom they all preserve a cherished remembrance, each now pressed the hand of Armel and gave him some tender commission for those of their tribe whom he was about to meet again. After Armel was dead, Joel closed the youth's eyes and had him taken to the altar of grey stones, above which stood the copper bowl with the seven twigs of mistletoe. The body was then covered with oak branches taken from the altar, so that, instead of the corpse, only a heap of verdure met the eye, with Julyan seated close to it. Finally, the head of the family filled the large cup up to the brim, moistened his lips in it and said to the stranger: "May Armel's journey be a happy one; he has ever been good and just; may he traverse under the guidance of Teutates the marvelous regions and countries that lie beyond the grave which none of us has yet traveled over, and which all of us will yet see. May Armel meet again those whom we have loved, and let him assure them that we love them still!" The cup went around; the women and young girls expressed their good wishes to Armel on his journey; the remains of the supper were removed; and all gathered at the hearth, impatient to hear the promised stories told by the stranger. CHAPTER IV. THE STORY OF ALBREGE. "Is it a story that you want of me?" asked the unknown guest turning to Joel, and seeing the eyes of all fixed upon himself. "One story?" cried Joel. "Tell us twenty, a hundred! You must have seen so much! so many countries! so many peoples! One story only? Ah, by the good Ormi, you shall not be let off with only one story, friend guest!" "Oh, no!" cried the family in chorus and with set determination. "Oh, no! We must have more than one!" "And yet," observed the stranger with a pensive and severe mien, "there is more serious work in hand than to tell and listen to frivolous stories." "I understand not what you mean," said Joel no less taken back than his family; all turned their eyes upon the stranger in silent amazement. "No, you do not understand me," replied the stranger sadly. "Nevertheless, I shall keep my promise--the thing promised is a thing done;" and pointing to Julyan who had remained at the other end of the hall near the oak-covered body of Armel he added: "We must see to it that that young man has something to tell his brother when he joins him beyond." "Proceed, guest, proceed with your story," answered Julyan, without raising his head from his hands; "proceed with your story; I shall not lose a word.... Armel shall hear it just as you tell it." "Two years ago," said the stranger, beginning his story, "while traveling among the Gauls who inhabit the borders of the Rhine, I happened one day to be at Strasburg. I had gone out of the town for a walk along the river bank. Presently I saw a large crowd of people moving in the direction of where I stood. They were following a man and woman, both young and both handsome, who carried on a buckler, that they held by the edges, a little baby not more than three or four months old. The man looked restless and somber; the woman pale and calm. Both stopped at the river's bank, at a spot where the stream runs especially rapid. The crowd also stopped. I drew near and inquired who the man and woman were. 'The man's name is Vindorix, the woman's Albrege; they are man and wife,' was the answer I received. I then saw Vindorix, whose countenance waxed more and more somber, approach his wife and say to her: "'This is the time.' "'Do you wish it?' asked Albrege. 'Do you wish it?' "'Yes,' answered the husband; 'I doubt--I want to be certain.' "'Then, be it so,' said she. "Thereupon, himself taking the buckler where the little child lay, smiling and stretching out its chubby arms to him, Vindorix walked into the river up to his waist, raised the buckler and child for a moment over his head, and looked back a last time towards his wife, as if to threaten her with what he was about to do. With her forehead high and a steady countenance, Albrege remained erect at the river bank, motionless like a statue, her arms crossed upon her bosom. When her husband now turned to her she stretched out her right hand towards him as if to say: "'Do it!' "At that moment a shudder ran over the crowd. Vindorix deposited upon the stream the buckler on which lay the child, and in that frail craft left the infant to the mercy of the eddies." "Oh, the wicked man!" cried Mamm' Margarid deeply moved by the story as were the other hearers. "And his wife!... his wife ... who remained on the bank?--" "But what was the reason of such a barbarity, friend guest?" asked Henory, the young wife of Guilhern embracing her two children, little Sylvest and little Syomara, both of whom she took on her knees as if fearing to see them exposed to a similar danger. With a gesture the stranger put an end to the interrogatories, and proceeded: "The stream had barely carried away the buckler on which the child lay, than the father raised both his trembling hands to heaven as if to invoke the gods. He followed the course of the buckler with sullen anxiety, leaning, despite himself, to the right when the buckler dipped to the right, and to the left when the buckler dipped on that side. The mother, on the contrary, her arms crossed over her bosom, followed the buckler with firm eyes, and as tranquil as if she had nothing to fear for her child." "Nothing to fear!" cried Guilhern. "To see her child thus exposed to almost certain death ... it is bound to go under...." "That must have been an unnatural mother," cried Henory. "And not one man in all that crowd to jump into the water and save the child!" observed Julyan thinking of his friend. "Oh, that will surely anger the heart of Armel, when I tell him that." "But do not interrupt every instant!" cried Joel. "Proceed, my guest; may Teutates, who presides over all journeys made in this world and in the others, guard the poor little thing!" "Twice," the stranger proceeded, "the buckler threatened to be swallowed up by the eddies of the rapid stream. Of all present, only the mother moved not a muscle. Presently the buckler was seen riding the waters like an airy skiff and peacefully following the course of the stream beyond the rapids. Immediately the crowd cried, beating their hands: "'The boat! The boat!' "Two men ran down the bank, pushed off a boat, and swiftly plying their oars, quickly reached the buckler, and took it up from the water together with the child that had fallen asleep--" "Thanks to the gods! The child is saved!" exclaimed almost in chorus the family of Joel, as if delivered from a painful apprehension. Perceiving that he was about to be again interrupted by fresh questions, the stranger hastened to resume his narrative. "While the buckler and child were being taken from the water, its father Vindorix, whose face was now as radiant with joy as it was somber until then, ran to his wife, and stretching out his arms to her said:" "'Albrege!... Albrege!... You told me the truth.... You were faithful!'" "But repelling her husband with an imperious gesture, Albrege answered him proudly: 'Certain of my honor, I did not fear the trial.... I felt at ease on my child's fate. The gods could not punish an innocent woman with the loss of her child.... But ... _a woman suspected is a woman outraged_.... I shall keep my child. You never more shall see us, nor him, nor me.... You have doubted your wife's honor!'" "The child was just then brought in triumph. Its mother threw herself upon it, like a lioness upon her whelp; pressed it closely to her heart; so calm and peaceful as she had been until then, so violent was she now with the caresses that she showered upon the baby, with whom she now fled away." "O, that was a true daughter of Gaul!" said Guilhern's wife. "A woman suspected is a woman outraged. Those are proud words.... I like to hear them!" "But," asked Joel, "is that trial one of the customs of the Gauls along the Rhine?" "Yes," answered the stranger; "the husband who suspects his wife of having dishonored his bed, places the baby upon a buckler and exposes it to the current of the river. If the child remains afloat, the wife's innocence is proved; if it sinks under the waves, the mother's crime is considered established." "And how was that brave wife clad, friend guest?" asked Henory. "Did she wear a tunic like ours?" "No," answered the stranger; "the tunics in that region are very short and of two colors. The corsage is generally blue, the skirt red. The latter is often embroidered with gold and silver thread." "And their head-gear?" asked one of the young girls. "Are they white and cut square like our own?" "No; they are black and bell-shaped, and they are also embroidered in gold and silver." "And the bucklers?" queried Guilhern. "Are they like ours?" "They are longer, and they are painted with lively colors, usually arranged in squares. Red and white is a very common combination." "And the marriages, how are they celebrated?" inquired another young girl. "And the cattle, are they as fine as ours?" an old man wanted to know. "And have they like us brave fighting cocks?" asked a child. The stranger was being assailed with such a shower of questions that Joel said to the questioners: "Enough; enough.... Let our friend regain his breath. You are screaming around him like a flock of sea-gulls." "Do they pay, as we do, the money they owe the dead?" asked Stumpy, despite Joel's orders to cease questioning the stranger. "Yes; their custom and ours is the same as here," answered the stranger; "and they are not idolaters like a man from Asia whom I met at Marseilles, and who claimed that, according to his religion, we continued to live after death, but not clad in human shape, according to him we were clad in the form of animals." "_Her!_ ... _Her!_" cried Stumpy in great trouble. "If it were as those idolatrous people claim, then Gigel, who departed instead of old Mark, may be now inhabiting the body of a fish; and I would have sent him three pieces of silver with Armel who might now be inhabiting the body of a bird. How could a bird deliver silver pieces to a fish. _Her!_ ... _Her!_" "Our friend told you that that belief is idolatry, Stumpy," put in Joel with severity; "your fear is impious." "It must be so," said Julyan sadly. "What would I become who am to proceed to-morrow to meet Armel by oath and out of friendship, were I to find him turned into a bird while I may be turned into a stag of the woods or an ox of the fields?" "Fear not, young man," said the stranger to Julyan, "the religion of Hesus is the only true religion; it teaches us that after death we are reclad in younger and handsomer bodies." "I pin my hopes on that!" said Stumpy. CHAPTER V. THE STORY OF SYOMARA. The storm of questions had spent itself and the thirst for fresh stories returned among the assembled family of Joel, whose head remarked with wonderment: "What a thing traveling is? How much one learns; but we must not lag behind our guest. Story for story. Proud Gallic woman for proud Gallic woman. Friend guest, ask Mamm' Margarid to tell you the beautiful story and deed of one of her own female ancestors, which happened about a hundred and thirty years ago when our fathers went as far as Asia to found a new Gaul, because you must know that few are the countries on earth that their soles have not trod upon." "After your wife's story," answered the stranger, "and seeing that you wish to speak of our own ancestors, I shall also speak of them ... and by Ritha Gaür!... never would the time be fitter. While we are here telling stories, you do not seem to know what is going on elsewhere in the land; you do not know that perhaps at this very moment--" "Why do you interrupt yourself?" asked Joel wondering at the suddenness with which his guest broke off in the middle of the sentence. "What is going on while we are here telling stories? What better can we do at the corner of our hearth during an autumn evening?" Instead of answering Joel, the stranger respectfully said to Mamm' Margarid: "I shall listen to the story of Joel's wife." "It is a very short and simple story," answered Margarid plying her distaff. "The story is as simple as the action of my ancestral grandmother. Her name was Syomara." "And in honor of her," said Guilhern breaking in upon his mother and proudly pointing the stranger to an eight year old child of surprising beauty, "in honor of our ancestral grandmother Syomara, who was as beautiful as she was brave, I have given her name to this little girl of mine." "This is indeed a most charming child," remarked the stranger struck by the lovely face of little Syomara. "I am sure she will have her grandmother's valor in the same degree that she is endowed with her beauty." Henory, the child's mother blushed with joy at these words and said smiling to Mamm' Margarid: "I dare not blame Guilhern for having interrupted you; it brought on the pretty compliment." "The compliment is as sweet to me as to you, my daughter," answered Mamm' Margarid; saying which she began her story: "My grandmother's name was Syomara; she was the daughter of Ronan. Her father had taken her into lower Languedoc whither his traffic called him. The Gauls of the neighborhood were just preparing for the expedition to the East. Their chief, Oriegon by name, saw my grandmother, was fascinated by her beauty, won her love and married her. Syomara departed with her husband on the expedition to the East. At first they triumphed. Afterwards, the Romans, who were ever jealous of the Gallic possessions, attacked our fathers. In one of the battles, Syomara, who, led thereto both by duty and love, accompanied Oriegon, her husband, to battle in a war-chariot, was separated from her husband during the fray, taken prisoner, and placed under the guard of a Roman officer, who was a miser and a libertine. The Roman, who was captivated by the beauty of Syomara, attempted to seduce her; but she repelled his advances with contempt. He then surprised his captive during her sleep and outraged her--" "Listen, Joel!" cried the stranger indignantly. "Listen to that!... A Roman subjects an ancestor of your wife to such indignity!" "Listen to the end of the story, friend guest," said Joel; "you will see that Syomara is the peer of the Gallic woman of the Rhine." "The one and the other," Margarid proceeded, "showed themselves true to the maxim that there are three kinds of chastity among the women of Gaul: The first, when a father says in the presence of his daughter that he grants her hand to him whom she loves; the second, when for the first time she enters her husband's bed; and the third, when she appears the next morning before other men. The Roman had outraged Syomara, his prisoner. His passion being satisfied, he offered her freedom upon payment of a ransom. She accepted the offer and induced the Roman to send her servant, a prisoner like herself, to the camp of the Gauls and tell Oriegon or, in his absence, any of his friends, to bring the ransom to an appointed place. The servant departed to the camp of the Gauls. The miserly Roman, wishing himself to receive the ransom and not share it with anyone else, led Syomara alone to the appointed place. The friends of Oriegon were there with the gold for the ransom. While the Roman was counting the gold, Syomara addressed the Gauls in their own tongue and ordered them to kill the infamous man. Her orders were executed on the spot. Syomara then cut off his head, placed it in a fold of her dress and returned to the camp of her people. Oriegon, who had himself been also taken prisoner and managed to escape, arrived in camp at the same time as his wife. At the sight of her husband, Syomara dropped the head of the Roman at his feet and addressed Oriegon saying: 'That is the head of a man who outraged me.... There is none but you who can say that he possessed me.'" At the close of her narrative, Mamm' Margarid continued to spin in silence. "Did I not tell you, friend," said Joel, "that Syomara, Margarid's grandmother, was the peer of your Gallic woman of the Rhine?" "And must not the noble name bring good luck to my daughter!" added Guilhern tenderly kissing the blonde head of the child. "That powerful and chaste story is worthy of the lips that told it," said the stranger. "It also proves that the Romans, our implacable enemies, have not changed. Avaricious and debauched were they once--and are to-day. And seeing that we are speaking of the avaricious and debauched Romans and that you love stories," he added with a bitter smile, "you must know that I have been in Rome ... and that I saw ... Julius Cæsar ... the most famous of the Roman generals, as also the most avaricious and the most debauched man of all Italy. I would not venture to speak of his infamous acts of libertinage before women and young girls." "Oh! Did you see that famous Julius Cæsar? What kind of a looking man is he?" asked Joel with great inquisitiveness. The stranger looked at the brenn as if greatly surprised at the question, and answered with an effort to suppress his anger: "Cæsar is nearing old age; he is tall of stature; his face is lean and long; his complexion pale; his eyes black; his head bald. Seeing the man combines in his person all the vices of the worst women of the Romans, he is possessed, like them, of extraordinary personal vanity. Accordingly, in order to conceal his baldness, he ever carries a chaplet of gold leaves on his head. Is your inquisitiveness satisfied, Joel? Would you want more details about Cæsar's infirmities? That he is subject to epileptic fits?... That--" But the stranger did not finish his sentence. Letting his eyes wander over the assembled family of the brenn, he cried with towering rage: "By the anger of Hesus! Can it be that all of you--as many as you are here capable of seizing the sabre and the sword but insatiable after idle stories--can it be you do not know that a Roman army, after having invaded under the command of Cæsar one-half of our provinces, has taken winter quarters in the country of Orleans, of Touraine and of Anjou?" "Yes, yes; we have heard about it," calmly said Joel. "People from Anjou, who came here to buy beef and pork, told us about it." "And it is with such unconcern that you speak of the Roman invasion of Gaul?" cried the traveler. "Never have the Breton Gauls been invaded by strangers," proudly answered the brenn of the tribe of Karnak. "We shall remain spotless of the taint. We are independent of the Gauls of Piotou, of Touraine, of Orleans and of the other sections of the land, just as they are independent of us. They have not asked for our help. We are not so constituted as to offer ourselves to their chiefs and to fight under them. Let everyone guard his own honor and his own province. The Romans are in Touraine ... but it is a long way from Touraine to here." "So that if the pirates of the North were to kill your son Albinik the sailor and his brave wife Meroë, it would no wise concern you because the murder was committed far from here?" "You are joking. My son is my son.... The Gauls of provinces other than mine are not my sons!" "Are they not, like yourself, the sons of the same god, as the druid religion teaches you? If that is so, are not all the Gauls your brothers? And does not the subjugation, does not the blood of a brother cry for vengeance? Are you unconcerned because the enemy is not at the very gates of your own homestead? On that principle, the hand, even when it knows that the foot is gangrened, could say to itself: 'As to me, I am well, and the foot is far from the hand--I need not worry over the disease.' And the gangrene, not being stopped, rises from the foot to the other members, until the whole body perishes." "Unless the healthy hand take an axe," said the brenn, "and cut off the foot from which the evil proceeds." "And what becomes of the body that is thus mutilated, Joel?" put in Mamm' Margarid who all the while had been listening in silence. "When the best regions of the country shall have been invaded by the stranger, what will then become of the rest of Gaul? Thus mutilated and dismembered, how will she defend herself against her enemies?" "The worthy spouse of my host speaks wisely," said the traveler respectfully to Mamm' Margarid; "like all Gallic matrons she holds her place at the public council as well as at her hearth." "You speak truly," rejoined Joel, "Margarid has a brave heart and a wise head. Often her opinion is better than mine.... I gladly say so.... But this time I am right. Whatever may happen to the rest of Gaul, never will the Romans set foot in our old Britanny. There are her rocks, her marshes, her woods, her sand banks--above all her Bretons to defend her." At these words of her husband Mamm' Margarid shook her head disapprovingly; all the men of the family, however, loudly applauded their brenn's words. CHAPTER VI. THE STORY OF GAUL. When the noisy and martial ardor, evoked by the boastful words of the brenn of the tribe of Karnak had subsided, the traveler was seen sitting in somber silence. He looked up and said: "Very well, one more and last story, but let this one fall upon the hearts of you all like burning brass, seeing that the wise words of this household's matron have proved futile." All looked with surprise at the stranger, who with somber and severe mien began his story with these words: "Once upon a time, as far back as two or three thousand years, there lived a family here in Gaul. Whence did it come, to fill the vast solitudes that to-day are so populous? It doubtlessly came from the heart of Asia, that ancient cradle of the human races, now, however, hidden in the night of antiquity. That family ever preserved a type peculiar to itself, and found with no other people of the world. Loyal, hospitable, generous, vivacious, gay, inclined to humor, loving to tell, above all, to hear stories, intrepid in battle, daring death more heroically than any other nation, because its religion taught it what death was--such were that family's virtues. Giddy-headed, vagabond, presumptuous, inconsistent, curious after novelty, and greedier yet of seeing than of conquering unknown countries, as easily uniting as falling apart, too proud and too fickle to adjust its opinions to those of its neighbors, or if consenting thereto, incapable of long marching in concert with them, although common and vital interests be at stake--such are that family's vices. In point of its virtues and in point of its vices, thus has it always been since the remotest centuries; thus is it to-day; thus will it be to-morrow." "Oh, oh! If I am not much mistaken," broke in the brenn smiling, "all of us, Gauls though we may be, must have some cousin red with that family." "Yes," said the stranger, "to its own misfortune--and to the joy of its enemies--such has been and such is to-day the character of our own people!" "But at least admit, despite such a character, the dear Gallic people has made its way well through the world. Few are the countries where the inquisitive vagabond, as you call it, did not promenade his shoes, with his nose in the air, his sword at his side--" "You are right. Such is its spirit of adventure: always marching ahead towards the unknown, rather than to stop and build. Thus, to-day, one-third of Gaul is in the hands of the Romans, while some centuries ago the Gallic race occupied through its headlong conquests, besides Gaul, England, Ireland, upper Italy, the banks of the Danube, and the countries along the sea border as far east and north as Denmark. Nor yet was that enough. It looked as if our race was to spread itself over the whole world. The Gauls of the Danube went into Macedonia, into Thrace, into Thessaly. Others of them crossed the Bosphorus and the Hellespont, reached Asia Minor, founded New Gaul, and thus became the arbiters of all the kingdoms of the East." "So far, meseems," rejoined the brenn, "we have nothing to regret over our character that you so severely judge." "And what is left of those senseless battles, undertaken by the pride of the kings who then reigned over the Gauls?" the stranger proceeded looking around. "Have not the distant conquests slipped from us? Have not our implacable and ever more powerful enemies, the Romans, raised all the peoples against us? Have we not been compelled to abandon those useless possessions--Asia, Greece, Germany, Italy? That is the net result of so much heroism and so much blood! That is the pass to which we have been brought by the ambition of the kings, who usurped the power of the druids!" "To that I have nothing to say. You are right. There was no need of promenading so far away only to soil the soles of our shoes with the blood and the dust of foreign lands. But if I am not mistaken, it was at about that time that the sons of the brave Ritha Gaür, who had a blouse made for himself of the beards of the kings whom he shaved, seeing in these the butchers of the people and not its shepherds, overthrew the royalty." "Yes, thanks to the gods, an epoch of real grandeur, of peace and of prosperity succeeded the barren and bloody conquests of the kings. Disembarassed of its useless possessions, reduced to rational limits--its natural frontiers--the Rhine, the Alps, the Pyrenees and the Ocean--the republic of the Gauls became the queen and envy of the world. Its fertile soil, cultivated as we so well know how, produced everything in abundance; the rivers were covered with merchant vessels; gold, silver and copper mines increased its wealth every day; large cities rose everywhere. The druids, spreading light in all directions, preached union to the provinces, and set the example by convoking once a year in the center of Gaul solemn assemblies, at which the general interests of the country were considered. Each tribe, each canton, each town, elected its own magistrates; each province was a republic which, according to the druid plan, merged into the great Republic of the Gauls, and thus constituted one powerful body through the union of all." "The fathers of our grandfathers saw those happy days, friend guest." "And their sons saw only ruins and misfortune! What has happened? The accursed stock of dethroned kings joins the stock of their former and no less accursed clients or seigneurs, and all of them, irritated at having been deposed of their authority, hope for restoration from the public misfortunes, and exploit with infamous perfidy our innate pride and lack of discipline, which, under the powerful influence of the druids, were being steadily corrected. The rivalries between province and province, long allayed, re-awakened; jealousies and hatreds sprang up anew; everywhere the structure of union began to crumble. For all this the kings do not re-ascend the throne. Many of their descendants are even judicially executed. But they have unchained internal feud. Civil war flares up. The more powerful provinces seek to subjugate the weaker. Thus, towards the end of the last century, the Marseillians, the descendants of the exiled Greeks to whom Gaul generously assigned the territory on which they built their town, sought to assume the rôle of sovereignty. The province rose against the town; finding herself in danger, Marseilles called the Romans to her aid. They came, not to sustain Marseilles in her contemplated iniquity, but to themselves take possession of the region, a purpose that they succeeded in, despite the prodigies of valor with which they were opposed. Established in Provence, the Romans built the town of Aix, and thus founded their first colony on our soil--" "Oh, a curse upon the Marseillians!" cried Joel. "It was thanks to those sons of Greeks that the Romans gained a foothold in Gaul!" "By what right can we curse the people of Marseilles? Must not also those provinces be cursed which, since the decline of the republic, thus allowed one of their sisters to be overpowered and subjugated? But retribution was swift. Encouraged by the indifference of the Gauls, the Romans took possession of Auvergne, and later of the Dauphine, and a little later also of Languedoc and Vivarais despite the heroic defence of their peoples, who, besides being divided among themselves, were left to their own resources. Thus the Romans became masters of almost all southern Gaul; they govern it by their proconsuls and reduce its people to slavery. Do the other provinces at last take alarm at these ominous invasions of Rome that push ever forward and threaten the very heart of Gaul? No! No! Relying upon their own courage, they say as you, Joel, did shortly ago: 'The South lies far away from the North, the East lies far away from the West.' This notwithstanding, our race, which is heedless and presumptuous enough to fail to prepare in advance, and when it is still time, against foreign domination, always has the belated courage of rebelling when the yoke is actually placed upon its neck. The provinces that have been subjugated by the Romans, break out in resolute rebellion; these are smothered in their own blood. Our disasters follow swiftly upon one another. The Burgundians, incited thereto by the descendants of the old kings, take up arms against the Frank-Compté and invoke the aid of the Romans. The Frank-Compté, unable to make head against such an alliance, requests reinforcements from the Germans of the other side of the Rhine. Thus these barbarians of the North are taught the road to Gaul, and after bloody battles with the very people who invited them, remain masters of both Burgundy and Frank-Compté. Last year, the Swiss, encouraged by the example of the Germans, make an irruption into the Gallic provinces that had been conquered by the Romans. Thereupon, Julius Cæsar is appointed proconsul; he hastens from Italy; owerthrows the Swiss in their mountains; drives the Germans out of Burgundy and Frank-Compté; takes possession of these provinces, now exhausted by their long struggles with the barbarians; and to the yoke of these now succeeds that of the Romans. It was a change of masters. And finally, at the beginning of this year a portion of Gaul shakes off its lethargy and scents the dangers that threatens the still independent provinces. Brave patriots, wanting neither Romans nor Germans for their masters--Galba among the Gauls of Belgium, Boddig-nat among the Gauls of Flanders--induce the people to rise in mass against Cæsar. The Gauls of Vermandois and those of Artois also rise in rebellion. Together they all march against the Romans! Oh, it was a great and terrible battle, that battle of the Sambre!" cried the unknown traveler with exaltation. "The Gallic army awaited Cæsar on the left bank of the river. Three times did the Roman army cross, and three times was it compelled to recross it, fighting up to their waists in the blood-reddened waters. The Roman is overthrown, the oldest legions are shattered. Cæsar alights from his horse, swings his sword, rallies his last cohorts of veterans, that already were yielding ground, and at their head charges upon our army. Despite Cæsar's courage the battle was lost to him, when we saw a fresh body arrive to his aid." "You say 'We saw'?" asked Joel. "Were you at that terrible battle?" But the unknown visitor proceeded without answering: "Exhausted, decimated by a seven hours' fight, we still held out against the fresh troops ... we fought to the bitter end ... we fought unto death.... And do you know," added the stranger with an expression of profound grief, "do you know, you who remained peacefully at home, while your brothers were dying for the liberty of Gaul, which is also yours,--do you know how many survived of the sixty thousand men in the Gallic army--in that battle of the Sambre?... _Not five hundred!_" "Not five hundred!" cried Joel as if questioning the figures. "I say so because I am one of the survivors," answered the stranger proudly. "Then the two fresh scars on your face--" "I received them at the battle of the Sambre--" CHAPTER VII. "WAR! WAR! WAR!" A furious barking of dogs in the yard and a distinct noise of hard rapping at the gate of the palisade interrupted the stranger's narrative. Still laboring under the painful impression of the traveler's words, the family of the brenn for a moment imagined their homestead was being attacked. The women rose precipitately, the little ones rushed to their mothers' arms, the men ran for their arms that hung from the walls. But the dogs soon ceased barking, although the rapping at the gate continued unabated. Joel said to his family: "Although they are still rapping, the dogs do not bark. They must know who is at the gate." Saying this, the brenn stepped out. Several of his kinsmen, the stranger included, followed him out of prudence. The yard gate was opened and two voices were heard outside the palisades crying: "It is we, friends, ... Albinik and Mikael." Indeed the two sons of the brenn were distinguished by the light of the torches, and behind them their horses, panting for breath and white with foam. After tenderly embracing his sons, especially the mariner, who was absent over a year on his sea journeys, Joel entered the house with them, where they were received with joy and not a little surprise by their mother and other relatives. Albinik the mariner and Mikael the armorer were, like their father and their brother, men of large and robust stature. Over their clothes they carried a caped cloak of heavy woolen fabric streaming with the rain. Upon entering the house, and even before embracing their mother, the new arrivals stepped to the altar and approached their lips to the seven small twigs of mistletoe that stood dipped in the copper bowl on the large stone. They there noticed a lifeless body covered with oak branches, near which Julyan still sat. "Good evening, Julyan," said Mikael. "Who is dead?" "It is Armel; I killed him this evening in a sword contest," answered Julyan; "but as we have both pledged brotherhood to each other, I shall join him to-morrow beyond. If you wish it I shall mention you to him." "Yes, yes. Julyan; I loved Armel and expected to find him alive. In the bag on my horse I have a little harpoon head of iron that I forged for him; I shall place it to-morrow on the pyre of you two--" "And you must tell Armel," added the mariner smiling, "that he went away too soon; his friends Albinik and Meroë would have told him their last experience at sea." "It is Armel and myself," replied Julyan with a smile, "who will later have pretty stories to tell you. Your sea trips will be like nothing to the travels that await us in those marvelous worlds that none has seen and all will see." After Margarid's two sons had answered the tender inquiries of their mother and family, the brenn said to the unknown traveler: "Friend, these are my two sons." "May it please heaven that the suddenness of their arrival may not be caused by some evil event," answered the traveler. "I say so, too, my children," rejoined Joel. "What has happened that you come at so late an hour and in such hurry? Happy be your return, Albinik, but I did not expect it so soon. But where is the gentle Meroë?" "I left her at Vannes, father. This is what has happened. I returned from Spain by the gulf of Gascony on the way to England. The bad weather forced us to put in at Vannes. But by Teutates, who presides over all journeys by land and sea, here on earth and beyond, I did not expect--no, I did not expect to see what I saw in that town. I, therefore, left my vessel in port in charge of my sailors with my wife as their chief, I took a horse and galloped to Auray. There I gave the news to Mikael, and we hastened hither to forewarn you, father." "And what is it you saw at Vannes?" "What did I see? All the inhabitants, in revolt, full of indignation and rage, like the brave Bretons that they are!" "And what is the reason of it all, children?" asked Mamm' Margarid without leaving her distaff. "Four Roman officers, without any other escort than four soldiers and as calmly insolent as if they were in some enslaved country, came in yesterday and commanded the magistrates of the town to issue orders to all the neighboring tribes to send to Vannes ten thousand bags of wheat--" "And what else?" asked Joel laughing and shrugging his shoulders. "Five thousand bags of oats." "And what else?" "Five hundred barrels of hydromel." "Of course," said the brenn laughing louder, "they must also drink--and what else?" "A thousand heads of beef." "And, of course, the fattest--What else?" "Five thousand sheep." "That's right. One soon gets tired of beef only. Is that all, my boy?" "They also demanded three hundred horses to furnish new equipages to the Roman cavalry, besides two hundred wagons of forage." "And why not? The poor horses must be fed," continued Joel sneeringly. "But there must be some more orders. If they begin to issue orders, why stop at all?" "The provisions were to be taken in wagons as far as Poitou and Touraine." "And what is the wide maw that is to swallow up those bags of wheat, those muttons, those heads of beef and those barrels of hydromel?" "Above all," added the traveler, "who is to pay for all those provisions?" "Pay for them!" replied Albinik. "Why, nobody. It is a forced impost." "Ha! Ha!" laughed Joel. "And the wide maw that is to gulp up the provisions is none other than the Roman army, which is wintering in Touraine and Anjou." A shudder of rage mixed with disdain ran through the family of the brenn. "Well, Joel," the unknown traveler remarked, "do you still think that it is a long way from Touraine to Britanny? The distance does not seem to me long, seeing that the officers of Cæsar come calmly and without escort, empty-pursed and swinging high their canes, to provision their army here." Joel no longer laughed; he dropped his head and remained silent. "Our guest is right," put in Albinik; "these Romans came empty-pursed and swinging high their canes. One of them even raised his cane over old Ronan, the oldest magistrate of Vannes, who, like you, father, objected strongly to the Roman exaction." "And yet, children, what else can we do but laugh at these demands. To levy these provisionings upon us and the neighboring tribes of Vannes; to force us to carry the requisitions to Touraine and Anjou with our oxen and horses which the Romans will surely keep also, and all that at the very season of the late sowing and of our autumn labors; to ruin next year's harvest;--why, that is to reduce us to living upon the grass that would have fed the cattle that they rob us of!" "Yes," said Mikael the armorer; "they want to take away our wheat and our cattle, and leave the grass to us. By the iron of the lance that I was forging this very morning, it shall be the Romans who, under our blows, will bite the grass on our fields!" "Vannes is now preparing to defend herself if attacked," added the mariner. "They have begun to throw up trenches in the neighborhood of the port. All our sailors are to be armed, and if the Roman galleys attack us by sea, never will the sea crows have had a like feast of corpses upon our beach." "While crossing to-night the other tribes," resumed Mikael, "we spread the news and sounded the alarm. The magistrates of Vannes have also sent out messengers in all direction ordering that fires be lighted from hill to hill, and thereby give immediate notice of the imminent danger from one end of Britanny to the other." Without once dropping her distaff, Mamm' Margarid had listened to the report given by her sons. When they stopped speaking she calmly said: "As to those Roman officers, my sons, were they not sent back to their army--after a thorough caning?" "No, mother; they were lodged in jail at Vannes, all except two of their soldiers whom the magistrates charged to declare to the Roman general that no provisions whatever were to be furnished him, and that his officers were to be as hostages." "It would have been better to give the officers a thorough caning and drive them in disgrace out of the town," replied Mamm' Margarid. "That is the way thieves are treated, and these Romans tried to rob us." "You are right, Margarid," said Joel; "they came to rob us--to starve us! to carry away our harvests and our cattle!" And Joel, now in a towering rage, added: "By the vengeance of Hesus! To think of their taking our fine turn-out of six young oxen with skins slick as wolves! Our four yokes of black bulls that have such a beautiful white star in the center of their foreheads!" "And our beautiful white heifers with yellow heads!" said Mamm' Margarid shrugging her shoulders and never quitting her distaff, "our sheep whose fleece is so nice and thick.... Come, a good caning for these Romans!" "And the powerful horses of the stock of your magnificent stallion Tom-Bras," put in the traveler. "They will, after all, have to draw your harvest to Touraine, and will then serve to replace the worn-out horses of the Roman cavalry.... True, to them, the labor will not be excessive ... because you will now probably discover that it is not far from Touraine to Britanny." "Well may you mock, friend," said Joel. "You were right, and I confess myself to have been wrong. Oh! If only the provinces of Gaul had from the start confederated themselves against the first assault of the Romans! If united they had put forth but one-half the efforts that they put forth separately--we would not now be exposed to the insolent demands and to the threats of these heathens! Well may you mock!" "No, Joel, I will mock no longer," gravely answered the traveler. "The danger is near; the hostile camp lies only a twelve day's march from here; the refusal of the magistrates of Vannes and the imprisonment of the Roman officers--all that means speedy war--a merciless war, as only the Romans know how to wage! If we are vanquished it means to us death on the battle field, or slavery far away! The slave merchants follow the tracks of the Roman army; they are greedy after prey. Whatever survives, whether whole or wounded--men, young women, girls, children--all are sold at auction like cattle for the benefit of the vanquisher, and are forthwith consigned by the thousands to Italy or to Southern Gaul where the Romans are settled! Arrived at their destination, the male slaves of robust frame are often forced to fight ferocious animals in the circus for the amusement of their masters; the young women and girls, even the children are subjected to monstrous debaucheries. Such is war with the Romans if vanquished!" cried the stranger. "Will you allow yourselves to be vanquished? Will you submit to such disgrace? Will you deliver to them your wives, your sisters, your daughters and children, ye Gauls of Britanny?" Hardly had the traveler uttered these words when the whole family of Joel--men, women, young girls, children--all down to the dwarfy Stumpy, rose to their feet and with their eyes shooting fire, their cheeks inflamed, cried tumultuously, waving their arms: "War! War! War!" Joel's large battle mastiff, fired by these cries, rose on his hind legs and laid his fore-paws on the breast of his master, who, while caressing his enormous head said: "Yes, old Deber-Trud, like our tribe you will hunt the Romans.... The quarry shall be for you.... Your jaws shall be red with blood!... Wow! Wow, Deber-Trud! At the Romans! At the Romans!" Hearing the well-known war-cry, the mastiff responded with furious barks, displaying fangs as redoubtable as a lion's. Hearing Deber-Trud, the outside watch-dogs, as well as those locked up in the kennels, answered him. Frightful was the war-cry raised by the pack. "A good omen, friend Joel," observed the traveler. "Your dogs bark death to the enemy." "Yes, yes; death to the enemy!" cried the brenn. "Thanks be to the gods, in our Breton Gaul, on the day of peril, the watch-dog becomes a war-dog! the draw-horse becomes a war-horse! the ox of the field a war-ox! the harvest carts chariots of war! the laborer a warrior! even our peaceful and fruitful earth turns to war and devours the stranger! at every step he finds a grave in our fathomless marshes, and his vessels vanish in the whirlpools of our bays which are more terrible in their calm than in the tempest of their fury!" "Joel," now said Julyan, who had left the body of his friend, "I promised Armel to meet him to-morrow yonder--Such a death would be pleasant to me.... To die fighting the Romans is a duty.... What shall I do?" "Ask to-morrow one of the druids of Karnak." "And our sister Hena," said Albinik the mariner to his mother. "It is nearly a year I have not seen her.... She is surely still the pearl of the Isle of Sen? My wife Meroë charged me to remember her to Hena." "You will see her to-morrow," answered Mamm' Margarid; and laying down her distaff she arose. It was the signal for the family to retire. Mamm' Margarid looked around and said: "Let us retire, my children; it is late; to-morrow at break of day we must begin our war preparations;" and turning to the traveler: "May the gods grant you a good rest and pleasant dreams!" CHAPTER VIII. FAREWELL! Agreeable to his promise, Joel pushed off his boat early the next morning, accompanied by his son Albinik the mariner, and took the unknown traveler to the island of Kellor, seeing he did not dare to land at the sacred precincts of the Isle of Sen. The brenn's guest said a few words in a low voice to the ewagh who mounts perpetual guard in the island's house. He seemed to be struck with respect and answered that Talyessin, the oldest of the living druids, who then was at the Isle of Sen together with his wife Auria, expected a traveler since the previous evening. Before leaving Joel, the stranger said to his host: "I hope neither you nor your family will forget your resolution of yesterday. This day a call to arms will resound from one end of Breton Gaul to the other." "You may rest assured that I and the rest of my tribe will be the first to respond to the call." "I believe you. The issue now is whether Gaul shall fall into slavery or shall rise again to the height of her one-time power and glory." "But should I not, at this moment when I am to leave you, know the name of the brave man who sat at my hearth? The name of the wise man who speaks with so much soundness and loves his country so warmly?" "Joel, my name shall be 'Soldier' so long as Gaul is not free; and if we ever meet again, I shall call myself 'Your Friend,' seeing that I am that." Saying these words the unknown traveler stepped into the ewagh's boat that was to take him from Kellor to the Isle of Sen. Before the boat, which was under charge of the ewagh, put off, Joel asked the latter whether he would be permitted to wait at the house for his daughter Hena, who was to come on that day to visit the family. The ewagh informed him that his daughter would not start for the shore until evening. Sorry at not being able to take Hena with him, the brenn re-entered his boat and returned alone with Albinik. Towards noon, Julyan went to consult the druids of the forest of Karnak upon whether he should take the immediate and voluntary death which would be a pleasure to him, seeing he was to rejoin Armel, or seek death in battle against the Romans. The druids answered him that having sworn to Armel upon his brotherhood faith to die with him, he should be faithful to his promise, and that the ewaghs would bring the body of Armel with the usual ceremonies in order to place it upon the pyre where Julyan would find his place at moon-rise. Happy at being able so soon to join his friend, Julyan was about to leave Karnak, when he saw the stranger, who had been the guest of Joel and who now returned from the Isle of Sen, approaching through the forest in the company of Talyessin. The latter said a few words to the other druids, who forthwith surrounded the traveler with great eagerness and marks of respect. The younger ones of the druids received him as a brother, the elder ones as a son. Recognizing Julyan, the traveler said to him: "As you are to return to the brenn of the tribe, wait a little; I shall give you a letter for him." Julyan yielded to the wish of the stranger, who withdrew accompanied by Talyessin and other druids. He returned shortly and handed to Julyan a little scroll of yellow tanned skin, saying: "This is for Joel.... This evening, Julyan, when the moon rises we shall see each other again.... Hesus loves those who, like you, are brave and faithful in their friendship." Upon arriving at the brenn's house, Julyan learned that the former was on the field gathering in the wheat. He went after him and delivered to Joel the writing sent by the stranger. It said: "Friend Joel, in the name of Gaul now in danger, this is what the druids expect of you: Command all the members of your family who are at work on the fields to cry out to those of the tribe working not far from them: The mistletoe and the new year! _Let every man, woman and child, all without exception, meet this evening in the forest of Karnak at the rise of the moon._ Let those of the tribe who will have heard these words in turn repeat them aloud to those of the other tribes who may also be at work on the fields, so that the call being repeated from mouth to mouth, from one to another, from village to village, from town to town, from Vannes to Auray, notify all the tribes to convene this evening at the forest of Karnak." Joel did as ordered by the stranger in the name of the druids of Karnak. The call was carried from mouth to mouth, from the nearest to the most distant tribes; all were notified to meet that evening in the forest of Karnak when the moon rose. While some of the brenn's family were hurriedly gathering in the wheat harvest that still remained heaped on the fields, in order to deposit a portion of it in cellars that the laborers were digging on dry ground, the women, the girls and even the children, all working under the direction of Margarid, were as busily engaged disposing of salted meats into baskets, flour into bags, hydromel and wine into pouches; others were filling coffers with lint and balsam for wounds; others were adjusting broad and strong tent cloths over the chariots. In all wars considered dangerous, the tribes threatened by the enemy, instead of waiting for, usually went out to meet him. The houses were abandoned; the field oxen were hitched to the war-chariots, all of which contained the women, the children, the clothes and the provisions of the combatants. The horses, ridden by the full grown men of the tribe, constituted the cavalry. The young men, being more agile, went on foot as an armed escort. The grain was hidden away; the cattle, let loose, pastured where they pleased and returned instinctively every evening to their usual stables. Generally, the wolves and bears devoured a part. The fields remained untended and scarcity followed. Often the combatants who went to war in defence of their country, encouraged by the presence of their wives and children, and having nothing to expect from the enemy but disgrace, slavery or death, drove back the invader beyond their frontiers, and returned home to repair the disasters of the fields. Knowing that his daughter was due at the house, Joel returned home towards sun-down. He also expected to be able to take a hand in the preparations for the war. Hena, the virgin of the Isle of Sen, soon arrived. When her father, mother and other relatives saw her enter it seemed to them never before had she been so beautiful. Never before did her father feel so proud of his daughter. The long black tunic that she wore was held around her waist by a brass belt, from which, on one side, hung a little gold sickle, and on the other a crescent in the shape of the waning moon. Hena had dressed herself with special care in honor of the celebration of her birthday. A necklace and gold bracelets inlaid with garnets ornamented her arms and neck, whiter than the driven snow. When she took off her caped cloak it was noticed that she wore, as ever at religious ceremonies, a crown of green oak leaves on her blonde hair, plaited in braids over her chaste and mild forehead. The blue of the sea, when lying calmly under a clear sky, was not purer than the blue of Hena's eyes. The brenn stretched out his arms to his daughter. She ran into them joyously and offered him her forehead, as she also did her mother. The children of the family loved Hena dearly and contested with each other the privilege of being the first to kiss her hands--sought with greed by all the little innocent mouths. Even old Deber-Trud gamboled and barked with joy at the arrival of his young mistress. Albinik the mariner was the first to whom Hena offered her forehead to kiss after her father and mother; she had not seen her brother for a long time. Next came the turn of Guilhern and Mikael and then the swarm of children, whom, stooping to them, Hena, sought to hold all together in one embrace. The young priestess then tenderly greeted Henory, her brother Guilhern's wife, and expressed her regret at not seeing Albinik's wife Meroë. Nor were the other relatives forgotten; all, down to Stumpy, otherwise everyone's butt, had a kind word from her. The general exchange of greetings being over, and happy at finding herself among her own, in the house where she was born eighteen years before, Hena sat down at her mother's feet on the same stool that she used to occupy when a child. When she saw her child seated at her feet, Mamm' Margarid called the maid's attention to the disorder that reigned in the house due to the preparations for war, and she said sadly: "We should have celebrated this day of your birth with joy and tranquility, dear child! Instead, you now find confusion and alarm in our house that soon will be deserted.... War threatens." "Mother is right," answered Hena sighing; "Great is the anger of Hesus." "And what say you, dear child, you who are a saint," inquired Joel, "a saint of the Isle of Sen? What must we do to appease the wrath of the All-Powerful?" "My father and mother honor me too much by calling me a saint," answered the young virgin. "Like the druids, myself and my female companions have meditated all night under the shadows of the sacred oak-trees at the hour of moon rise. We search for the simplest and divinest principles, and seek to spread them among our fellow-beings. We adore the All-Powerful in His works, from the mighty oak that is sacred to Him, down to the humble moss that grows on the rocks of our isle; from the stars, whose eternal course we study, down to the insect that is born and dies in one day; from the sourceless sea, down to the streamlet of water that glides under the grass. We search for the cure of diseases that cause pain, and we glorify those among our fathers and mothers who have shed lustre upon Gaul. By the knowledge of the auguries and the study of the past, we seek to foresee the future to the end of enlightening those who are less clear-sighted than ourselves. Finally, like the druids, we teach childhood, we inspire the child with an ardent love of our common and beloved fatherland--so threatened to-day by the wrath of Hesus, a wrath that comes down upon them because they have forgotten that _they are all the children of the same God_, and that a brother must resent the wound inflicted upon his brother." "The stranger who was our guest and whom this morning I took to the Isle of Sen," replied the brenn, "spoke to us as you do, dear daughter." "My father and mother may listen as sacred words to the words of the Chief of the Hundred Valleys. Hesus and love for Gaul inspire him. He is brave among the bravest." "He! Is he the Chief of the Hundred Valleys?" exclaimed Joel. "He refused to give me his name! Do you know it, daughter? Do you know which is his native province?" "He was impatiently waited for yesterday evening at the Isle of Sen by the venerable Talyessin. As to his name, all that I am free to say to my father and mother is that the day on which our country should be subjugated will also be the day when the Chief of the Hundred Valleys will see the last drop of his blood flow from his veins. May the wrath of Hesus spare us that disastrous day!" "Oh, my daughter, if Hesus is angry, how are we to appease him?" "By obeying the law. He has said--_all men are the children of one God_. By offering to him human sacrifices.... May those that are to be offered to-night calm his wrath." "The sacrifices of to-night?" asked the brenn; "which are they?" "Do not my father and mother know that to-night, when the moon rises, there will be three human sacrifices at the stones of the forest of Karnak?" "We know," answered Joel, "that all the tribes have been convened to appear this evening at the forest of Karnak. But who are the people that are to be sacrificed and will be pleasing to Hesus, dear daughter?" "First of all Daoulas the murderer: he killed Houarne without a fight and in his sleep. The druids have sentenced him to die this evening. The blood of a cowardly murderer is an expiation agreeable to Hesus." "And the second sacrifice?" "Our relative Julyan wishes, out of friendship, to rejoin Armel, whom he loyally killed in a contest. This evening, glorified by the chant of the bards, he will go, agreeable to his vow, and join Armel in the unknown worlds. The blood of a brave man, voluntarily offered to Hesus, is agreeable to him." "And the third sacrifice, dear child?" asked Mamm' Margarid; "Who is it?" Hena did not answer. She dropped her blonde and charming head upon the knees of Margarid, remained a while in a revery, kissed her mother's hands and said to her with a sweet smile that brought back old remembrances: "How often did not little Hena, when still a child, fall asleep of an evening on your knees, mother, while you spun at your distaff, and when all of you now present, except Albinik, were gathered at the hearth, narrating the virile virtues of our mothers and our fathers of old!" "It is true, dear daughter," answered Margarid caressingly passing her hand over the blonde hair of her child; "it is true. And here among us we all loved you so much for your good heart and your infantine grace, that when we saw you had fallen asleep on my knees, we all spoke in a low voice not to awake you." Stumpy, who was among the crowd of relatives, put in: "But who is that third human sacrifice, that is to appease Hesus and deliver us from war? Who, Hena, is the third to be sacrificed this evening?" "I shall tell you, Stumpy, when I shall have had a little time to meditate upon the past," answered the young maid dreamily, without leaving her mother's knees; and passing her hand over her forehead as if to refreshen her memory, she looked around, pointed to the stone where stood the copper bowl with the seven twigs of mistletoe and proceeded saying: "When I was twelve, do my father and mother remember how happy I was at having been selected by the female druids of the Isle of Sen to receive in a veil of linen, whitened in the dew of night, the mistletoe which the druids cut with a gold sickle at the moment when the moon shed its clearest light? Do my father and mother remember how, bringing home the mistletoe to sanctify our home, I was taken hither by the ewaghs in a chariot decked with flowers and greens while the bards sang the glory of Hesus? What tender embraces did not my whole family lavish upon me at my return! What a feast it was in our tribe!" "Dear, dear daughter," said Margarid pressing Hena's head against her maternal breast, "if the female druids chose you to receive the sacred mistletoe in a linen veil, it was because your soul was as pure as the veil." "It was because little Hena was the bravest of all her companions, she almost perished in the attempt to save Janed, the daughter of Wor, who, as she was gathering shells on the rocks along the shore of Glen'-Hek, fell into the water and was being carried away by the waves," said Mikael the armorer, tenderly contemplating his sister. "It was because, beyond all others, little Hena was sweet, patient and kind to the children; it was because, when only twelve, she instructed them like at matron at the cottage of the female druids of the Isle of Sen," said Guilhern in his turn. The daughter of Joel blushed with modesty at the words of her mother and brothers; but Stumpy insisted: "But who is that third human sacrifice that is to appease Hesus and deliver us from war? Who is it, Hena, who is it to be sacrificed this evening?" "I shall tell you, Stumpy," answered the young maid rising; "I shall tell you after I have once more looked at the dear little chamber where I used to sleep when, having grown unto maidenhood, I came here from the Isle of Sen to attend our family feasts." And stepping towards the door of the chamber, she stopped for a moment at the threshold and said: "What sweet nights have I spent there after retiring for the evening, regretful of leaving you! With what impatience did I not rise in the morning to meet you again!" Taking two steps into the little chamber, while her family felt ever more astonished at hearing Hena, still so young, thus dwell upon the past, the young maid proceeded, taking up several articles that lay upon a little table: "This is the sea-shell necklace that I entertained myself making in the evening sitting beside my mother.... These are the little dried twigs that resemble trees, and that I gathered from our rocks.... This is the net which I used when the tide was going out to catch little fishes with; how the sport used to amuse me!... There are the rolls of white skin on which, every time I came here, I recorded my joy at meeting my relatives and again seeing the house of my birth.... I find everything in its place. I am glad of having gathered these young girl's treasures." Stumpy, however, whom these mementoes did not seem to affect, again repeated in his sour and impatient voice: "But who is to be the third human sacrifice that is to appease Hesus and deliver us from war? Who, Hena, is to be sacrificed this evening?" "I shall let you know, Stumpy," answered Hena smiling. "I shall let you know after I shall have distributed my little treasures among you all,--you among them, Stumpy." Saying this, the daughter of the brenn motioned to her relatives to enter the chamber, and in the midst of the silent astonishment of all she gave a souvenir to each. Each, even of the little ones who loved her so much and also Stumpy received something. In order to make her gifts reach around, she loosened the sea-shell necklace and split up the dry twigs, saying in her sweet voice to each: "Keep this, I pray you, out of friendship for Hena, your relative and friend." Joel, his wife and his three children, to all of whom Hena had not yet given aught, looked at one another all the more astonished at what she did, seeing that towards the end tears appeared in her eyes although the young maid gave no other token of sadness. When all the others were supplied, Hena took from her neck the garnet necklace that she wore and said to Margarid while kissing her hand: "Hena prays her mother to keep this out of love for her." She then took the little rolls of white skin that had been prepared for writing on, handed them to Joel and kissing his hand said: "Hena prays her father to keep this roll out of love for her; he will there find her most cherished thoughts." Detaching thereupon from her arm her two garnet bracelets, Hena said to the wife of her brother Guilhern, the laborer: "Hena prays her sister Henory to wear this bracelet out of love for her." And giving the other bracelet to her brother the mariner she said: "Your wife, Meroë, whom I love as much for her courage as for her noble heart, is to keep this bracelet as a souvenir from me." Hena then took from her copper belt the little gold sickle and crescent that hung from it. She tendered the former to Guilhern the laborer, the second to Albinik the mariner, and taking a ring from her finger she gave it to Mikael the armorer, saying to the three: "I wish my brothers to preserve these keepsakes out of love for their sister Hena." All those present remained astonished and holding in their hands the gifts that the virgin of the Isle of Sen had delivered to them. They all remained standing and so speechless with astonishment that none could utter a word, but looked uneasily at one another as if threatened by some unknown disaster. Hena finally turned to Stumpy: "Stumpy," said she, "I shall now let you know who is to be the third sacrifice of this evening;" and taking the hands of Joel and Margarid she gently led them back into the large hall, whither all the others followed. Arrived there, Hena addressed her parents and assembled relatives: "My father and mother know that the blood of a cowardly murderer is an expiatory offering to Hesus, and that it might appease him--" "Yes--you told us so, dear daughter." "They also know that the blood of a brave man who dies in pledge of friendship is a valorous offering to Hesus, and that it might appease him." "Yes--you told us so, dear daughter." "Finally, my father and mother know that the most acceptable of all offerings to Hesus and most likely to appease him is the innocent blood of a virgin, happy and proud at the thought of offering her blood to Hesus, and of doing so voluntarily--voluntarily--in the hope that that all-powerful god may deliver our beloved fatherland, this dear and sacred fatherland of our fathers, from foreign oppression!... Thus the innocent blood of a virgin will flow this evening to appease the wrath of Hesus." "And her name?" asked Stumpy, "the name of that virgin who is to deliver us from war!" Hena looked towards her father and mother with tenderness and serenity and said: "The virgin who is to die is one of the nine female druids of the Isle of Sen. Her name is Hena. She is the daughter of Margarid and Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak!" Deep silence fell upon the family of Joel. None, not one present, expected to see Hena travel so soon yonder. None, not one present, neither her father, nor her mother, nor her brothers, nor any of her other relatives, was prepared for the farewells of the sudden journey. The children joined their little hands and said weeping: "What!... Leave us so soon?... Our Hena?... Why do you journey away?" The father and mother looked at each other and sighed. Margarid said to Hena: "Joel and Margarid believed that they would have to wait for their dear daughter in those unknown worlds, where we continue to live and where we meet again those whom we have loved here.... But it is to be otherwise. It is Hena who will precede us." "And perhaps," said the brenn, "our sweet and dear daughter will not long have to wait for us--" "May her blood, innocent and pure as a lamb's, appease the wrath of Hesus!" added Margarid; "May we soon be able to follow our dear daughter and inform her that Gaul is delivered from the stranger." "And the remembrance of the valiant sacrifice of our daughter shall be kept alive in our race," said the father; "so long as the descendants of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, shall live they will be proud to number among their ancestors Hena, the virgin of the Isle of Sen." The young maid made no answer. Her eyes wandered with sweet avidity from one relative to the other as, at the moment of undertaking a journey, the departing one takes a last look at the beloved beings from whom he is to be separated for a while. Pointing through the open door at the moon that, now at her fullest, was seen across the evening mist rising large-orbed and ruddy like a burning disk, Stumpy cried: "Hena!... Hena! The moon is rising above the horizon...." "You are right, Stumpy; this is the hour," she said, unwillingly taking her eyes from the faces of her beloved family. An instant later she added: "Let my father and mother and all the members of my family accompany me to the sacred stones of the forest of Karnak.... The hour of the sacrifice has come." Walking between Joel and Margarid, and followed by all the members of the tribe, Hena walked serenely to the forest of Karnak. CHAPTER IX. THE FOREST OF KARNAK. The call for assembling that was issued to the tribes at noon, had run from mouth to mouth, from village to village, from town to town. It was heard all over Breton Gaul. Towards evening the tribes proceeded en masse--men, women and children--to the forest of Karnak, the same as Joel and his family. The moon, at her fullest on that night, shone radiant amid the stars in the firmament. After having marched through the dark and the lighted spots of the forest, the assembling multitude finally arrived at the shores of the sea. The sacred stones of Karnak rose there in nine long avenues. They are sacred stones! They are the gigantic pillars of a temple that has the sky for its vault. In the measure that the tribes drew nearer to the place, their solemnity deepened. At the extremity of the avenue, the three stones of the sacrificial altar were ranged in a semi-circle, close to the shore. Behind the mass of people rose the deep and brooding forest, before them extended the boundless sea, above them spread the starry firmament. The tribes did not step beyond the last avenue of Karnak. They left a wide space between themselves and the altar. The large crowd remained silent. At the feet of the sacrificial stones rose three pyres. The center one, the largest of the three, was ornamented with long white veils striped with purple; it was also ornamented with ash, oak and birch-tree branches, arranged in mystical order. The pyre to the right was somewhat less high, but was also ornamented with green branches besides sheafs of wheat. On it lay the body of Armel, who had been killed in loyal combat. It was almost hidden under green and fruit-bearing boughs. The left pyre was surmounted with a hollow bunch of twisted osiers bearing the resemblance of a human body of gigantic stature. The sound of cymbals and harps was presently heard from the distance. The male and female druids, together with the virgins of the Isle of Sen were approaching the sacrificial place. At the head of the procession marched the bards, dressed in long white tunics that were held around their waists by brass belts; their temples were wreathed in oak leaves; they sang while playing upon their harps: "God, Gaul and her heroes." They were followed by the ewaghs charged with the sacrifices, and carrying torches and axes; they led in their midst and in chains Daoulas, the murderer who was to be executed. Behind these marched the druids themselves, clad in their purple-striped white robes, and their temples also wreathed in oak leaves. In their midst was Julyan, happy and proud; Julyan who was glad to leave this world in order to rejoin his friend Armel, and journey in his company over the unknown worlds. Finally came the married female druids, clad in white tunics with gold belts, and the nine virgins of the Isle of Sen, clad in their black tunics, their belts of brass, their arms bare, their green chaplets and their gold harps. Hena walked at the head of the latter. Her eyes looked for her father, her mother and her relatives--Joel, Margarid and their family had been placed in the front rank of the crowd--they soon recognized their daughter; their hearts went out to her. The druids ranked themselves beside the sacrificial stones. The bards ceased chanting. One of the ewaghs than said to the crowd, that all who wished to be remembered to people whom they had loved and who were no longer here, could deposit their letters and offering on the pyres. A large number of relatives and friends of those who had long been traveling yonder, thereupon piously approached the pyres, and deposited letters, flowers and other souvenirs that were to re-appear in the other worlds, the same as the souls of the bodies that were about to dissolve in brilliant flames, were to re-appear in a new body. Nobody, however, not one single person, deposited aught on the pyre of the murderer. As proud and joyful as Julyan was, Daoulas was crestfallen and frightened. Julyan had everything to hope for from the continuance of a life that had been uniformly pure and just. The murderer had everything to fear from the continuance of a life that was stained with crime. After all the offerings for the departed ones were deposited on the pyres, a profound silence followed. The ewaghs led Daoulas in chains to the osier effigy. Despite the pitiful cries of the condemned man, he was pinioned and placed at the foot of the pyre, and the ewaghs remained near him, axes in hand. Talyessin, the oldest of all the druids, an old man with long white beard, made a sign to one of the bards, who thereupon struck his three-stringed harp and intonated the following chant, after pointing to the murderer: "This man is of the tribe of Morlech. He killed Houarne of the same tribe. Did he kill him, like a brave man face to face with equal weapons? No, Daoulas killed Houarne like a coward. At the noon hour, Houarne was asleep under a tree. Daoulas approached him on tiptoe, axe in hand and killed his victim with one blow. Little Erick of the same tribe, who happened to be in a near-by tree picking fruit, saw the murder and him who committed it. On the evening of the same day the ewaghs seized Daoulas in his tribe. Brought before the druids of Karnak and confronted by Erick, he confessed his crime. Whereupon the oldest of the druids said: "'In the name of Hesus, _He who is because he is_, in the name of Teutates, who presides over journeys in this world and in the others, hear: The expiatory blood of the murderer is agreeable to Hesus.... You are about to be born again in other worlds. Your new life will be terrible, because you were cruel and cowardly.... You will die to be re-born in still greater wretchedness forever and ever through all eternity.... Become, on the contrary, from the moment that you are re-born, brave and good, despite the sufferings that you will endure and you will then die happy, to be re-born yonder, thus forever and ever, through all eternity!!!'" The bard then addressed himself to the murderer, who emitted fearful cries of terror. Thus spoke the venerable druid: "Daoulas, you are about to die ... and to meet your victim.... _He is waiting for you, he is waiting for you!_" When the bard pronounced these words, a shudder went through the assembled crowd. The fearful thought of meeting in the next world alive him who was killed in this made them all tremble. The bard proceeded, turning towards the pyre: "Daoulas, you are about to die! It is a glorious thing to see the face of a brave and just person at the moment when he or she voluntarily quits this world for some sacred cause. They love, at the moment of their departure to see the tender looks of farewell of their parents and friends. Cowards like yourself, Daoulas, are unworthy of taking a last look at the just. Hence, Daoulas, you will die and burn hidden in that envelop of osier, the effigy of a man, as you have become since the commission of the murder." And the bard cried: "In the name of Hesus! In the name of Teutates! Glory, glory to the brave! Shame, shame on the coward!" All the bards struck upon their harps and their cymbals, and cried in chorus: "Glory, glory to the brave! Shame, shame on the coward!" An ewagh then took up a sacred knife, cut off the murderer's life and cast his body inside of the huge osier effigy of a man. The pyre was set on fire. The harps and cymbals struck up in chorus, and all the tribes repeated aloud the last words of the bard: "Shame on the coward!" Soon the murderer's pyre was a raging mass of flame, within which was seen for a moment the effigy of a man like a giant on fire. The flames lighted the tops of the oaks of the forest, the colossal stones of Karnak, and even the vast expanse of the sea, while the moon inundated the space with its divine light. A few minutes later there was nothing left but a heap of ashes where the pyre of Daoulas had stood. Julyan was then seen ascending with radiant mien the pyre where lay the body of Armel, his friend--his pledged brother. Julyan had on his holiday clothes: a blouse of fine material striped white and blue, held around his waist by an embroidered leather belt, from which hung his knife. His caped cloak of brown wool was held by a brooch over his left shoulder. An oak crown decked his manly head. He held in his hand a nosegay of vervain. He looked serene and bold. Hardly had he ascended the pyre, when again the harps and cymbals struck up, and the bard chanted: "Who is this? He is a brave man! It is Julyan the laborer; Julyan of the family of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak! He fears the gods, and all love him. He is good, he is industrious, he is brave. He killed Armel not in hate but in a contest, in loyal combat, buckler on arm, sword in hand, like a true Breton Gaul, who loves to display his bravery and does not fear death. Armel having departed, Julyan, who had pledged brotherhood to him, wishes to depart also and join his friend. Glory to Julyan, faithful to the teachings of the druids. He knows that the creatures of the All-Powerful never die, and his pure and noble blood Julyan now offers up to Hesus. Glory, hope and happiness to Julyan! He has been good, just and brave. He will be re-born still happier, still juster, still braver, and ever onward, from world to world, Julyan will be re-born, his soul being ever re-incarnated in a new body the same as the body that here puts on new clothes." "Oh, Gauls! Ye proud souls, to whom death does not exist! Come, come! Remove your eyes from this earth; rise to the sublimity of heaven. See, see at your feet the abyss of space, dotted by these myriads of mortals as are all of us, and whom Teutates guides incessantly from the world that they have lived in towards the world that they are next to inhabit. Oh, what unknown worlds and marvelous we shall journey through, with our friends and our relatives that have preceded us, and with those whom we shall precede!" "No, we are not mortals! Our infinite lives are numbered by myriads and myriads of centuries, just as are numbered by myriads of myriads the stars in the firmament--mysterious worlds, ever different, ever new, that we are successively to inhabit." "Let those fear death who, faithful to the false gods of the Greeks, the Romans and the Jews, believe that man lives only once, and that after that, stripped of his body, the happy or unhappy soul remains eternally in the same hell or the same paradise! Aye! They are bound to fear death who believe that when man quits this life he finds _immobility in eternity_." "We Gauls have the right knowledge of God. We hold the secret of death. _Man is immortal both in body and soul._ Our destiny from world to world is to see and learn, to the end that at each of these journeys, if we have led wicked and impure lives, we may purify ourselves and become better--still better if we have been just and good; and that thus, from new birth to new birth man rises incessantly towards perfection as endless as his life!" "Happy, therefore, are the brave who voluntarily leave this world for other regions where they will ever see new and marvelous sights in the company of those whom they have loved! Happy, therefore, happy the brave Julyan! He is about to meet again with his friend, and with him see and know _what none of us has yet seen or known, and what all of us shall see and know_! Happy Julyan! Glory, glory to Julyan!" And all the bards and all the druids, the female druids and the virgins of the Isle of Sen repeated in chorus to the sound of the harps and the cymbals: "Happy, Happy Julyan! Glory to Julyan!" And all the tribes, feeling the thrill of curiosity of death and certain that they all would eventually become acquainted with the marvels of the other worlds, repeated with their thousands of voices: "Happy Julyan! Happy Julyan!" Standing erect upon his pyre, his face radiant, and at his feet the body of Armel, Julyan raised his inspired eyes towards the brilliant moon, opened his blouse, drew his long knife, held up the nosegay of vervain to heaven with his left hand, and with his right firmly plunged his knife into his breast, uttering as he did so in a strong voice: "Happy--happy am I. I am to join Armel!" The pyre was immediately lighted. Julyan, raised for a last, time his nosegay of vervain to heaven, and then vanished in the midst of the blinding flames, while the chants of the bards and the clang of harp and cymbals resounded far and wide. In their impatience to see and know the mysteries of the other world, a large number of men and women of the tribes rushed towards Julyan's pyre for the purpose of departing with him and of offering to Hesus an immense hecatomb with their bodies. But Talyessin, the eldest of the druids, ordered the ewaghs to restrain and hold these faithful people back. He cried out to them: "Enough blood has flown without that which is still to flow. But the hour has come when the blood of Gaul should flow only for freedom. The blood that is shed for liberty is also an agreeable offering to the All-Powerful." It was not without great effort that the ewaghs prevented the threatened rush of voluntary human sacrifices. The pyre of Julyan and Armel burned until the flames had nothing more to feed upon. Again profound silence fell upon the crowd. Hena, the virgin of the Isle of Sen, had ascended the third pyre. Joel and Margarid, their three sons, Guilhern, Albinik and Mikael, Guilhern's wife and little children all of whom so dearly loved Hena, all her relatives and all the members of her tribe held one another in a close embrace, and said to one another: "There is Hena.... There is our Hena!" As the virgin of the Isle of Sen stood upon the pyre that was ornamented with white veils, greens and flowers, the crowds of the tribes cried in one voice: "How beautiful she is!... How holy!" Joel writes it now down in all sincerity. His daughter Hena was indeed very beautiful as she stood erect on the pyre, lighted by the mellow light of the moon and resplendent in her black tunic, her blonde hair and her green chaplet, while her arms, whiter than ivory, embraced her gold harp! The bards ordered silence. The virgin of the Isle of Sen sang in a voice as pure as her own soul: "The daughter of Joel and Margarid comes to offer gladly her life as a sacrifice to Hesus! "Oh, All-Powerful! From the stranger deliver the soil of our father! "Gauls of Britanny, you have the lance and the sword! "The daughter of Joel and Margarid has but her blood. She offers it voluntarily to Hesus! "Oh, Almighty God! Render invincible the Gallic lance and sword! Oh, Hesus, take my blood, it is yours ... save our sacred fatherland!" The eldest of the female druids stood all this while on the pyre behind Hena with the sacred knife in her hand. When Hena's chant was ended, the knife glistened in the air and struck the virgin of the Isle of Sen. Her mother and her brothers, all the members of her tribe and her father Joel saw Hena fall upon her knees, cross her arms, turn her celestial face towards the moon, and cry with a still sonorous voice: "Hesus ... Hesus ... by the blood that flows.... Mercy for Gaul!" "Gauls, by this blood that flows, victory to our arms!" Thus the sacrifice of Hena was consummated amidst the religious admiration of the tribes. All repeated the last words of the brave virgin: "Hesus, mercy for Gaul!... Gauls, victory to our arms!" Several young men, being fired with enthusiasm by the heroic example and beauty of Hena sought to kill themselves upon her pyre in order to be re-born with her. The ewaghs held them back. The flames soon enveloped the pyre and Hena vanished in their dazzling splendor. A few minutes later there was nothing left of the virgin and her pyre but a heap of ashes. A high wind sat in from the sea and dispersed the atoms. The virgin of the Isle of Sen, brilliant and pure as the flame that consumed her, had vanished into space to be re-born and to await beyond for the arrival of those whom she had loved. The cymbals and harps resounded anew, and the chief of the bards struck up the chant: "To arms, ye Gauls, to arms! "The innocent blood of a virgin flowed for your sakes, and shall not yours flow for the fatherland! To arms! The Romans are here. Strike, Gauls, strike at their heads! Strike hard! See the enemy's blood flow like a stream! It rises up to your knees! Courage! Strike hard! Gauls, strike the Romans! Still harder! Harder still! You see the enemy's blood extend like a lake! It rises up to your chests! Courage! Strike still harder, Gauls! Strike the Romans! Strike harder still! You will rest to-morrow.... To-morrow Gaul will be free! Let, to-day, from the Loire to the ocean, but one cry resound--'To arms!'" As if carried away by the breath of war, all the tribes dispersed, running to their arms. The moon had gone down; dark night set in. But from all parts of the woods, from the bottoms of the valleys, from the tops of the hills where the signal fires were burning, a thousand voices echoed and re-echoed the chant of the bards: "To arms! Strike, Gauls! Strike hard at the Romans! To arms!" * * * * * The above truthful account of all that happened at our poor home on the birthday of my glorious Hena, a day that also saw her heroic sacrifice--that account has been written by me, Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, at the last moon of October of the first year that Julius Cæsar came to invade Gaul. I wrote it upon the rolls of white skin that my glorious daughter Hena gave me as a keepsake, and my eldest son, Guilhern has attached to them the keepsake he received from her--the mystic gold sickle of the virgin druid priestess. Let the two ever remain together. After me, my eldest son Guilhern shall carefully preserve both the writing and the emblem, and after Guilhern, the sons of his sons are charged to transmit them from generation to generation, to the end that our family may for all time preserve green the memory of Hena, the virgin of the Isle of Sen. (The End.) * * * * * THE INFANT'S SKULL; OR THE END OF THE WORLD. By EUGENE SUE. _Translated from the original French_ By DANIEL DE LEON. This is one of that series of thrilling stories by Eugene Sue in which historic personages and events are so artistically grouped that, without the fiction losing by the otherwise solid facts and without the solid facts suffering by the fiction, both are enhanced and combinedly act as a flash-light upon the past--and no less so upon the future. PRICE, FIFTY CENTS. New York Labor News Co. 2, 4 & 6 New Reade Street New York, N. Y. * * * * * THE PILGRIM'S SHELL OR FERGAN THE QUARRYMAN By Eugene Sue. Translated by Daniel De Leon. 283 pp., on fine book paper, cloth 75 cents. This great historical story by the eminent French writer is one of the majestic series that cover the leading and successive episodes of the history of the human race. The novel treats of the feudal system, the first Crusade and the rise of the Communes in France. It is the only translation into English of this masterpiece of Sue. The New York Sun says: Eugene Sue wrote a romance which seems to have disappeared in a curious fashion, called "Les Mysteres du Peuple." It is the story of a Gallic family through the ages, told in successive episodes, and, so far as we have been able to read it, is fully as interesting as "The Wandering Jew" or "The Mysteries of Paris." The French edition is pretty hard to find, and only parts have been translated into English. We don't know the reason. One medieval episode, telling of the struggle of the communes for freedom, is now translated by Mr. Daniel De Leon, under the title "The Pilgrim's Shell" (New York Labor News Co.). We trust the success of his effort may be such as to lead him to translate the rest of the romance. It will be the first time the feat has been done in English. NEW YORK LABOR NEWS CO., 2, 4 & 6 New Reade St., New York. * * * * * Woman Under Socialism By August Bebel Translated from the Original German of the Thirty-third Edition by Daniel De Leon, Editor of the New York Daily People, with translator's preface and foot notes. Cloth, 400 pages, with pen drawing of the author. Price, $1.00 The complete emancipation of woman, and her complete equality with man is the final goal of our social development, whose realization no power on earth can prevent;--and this realization is possible only by a social change that shall abolish the rule of man over man--hence also of capitalists over working-men. Only then will the human race reach its highest development. The "Golden Age" that man has been dreaming of for thousands of years, and after which they have been longing, will have come at last. Class rule will have reached its end for all time, and along with it, the rule of man over woman. CONTENTS: WOMAN IN THE PAST. Before Christianity. Under Christianity. WOMAN IN THE PRESENT. Sexual Instinct, Wedlock, Checks and Obstructions to Marriage. Further Checks and Obstructions to Marriage, Numerical Proportion of the Sexes, Its Causes and Effects. Prostitution a Necessary Institution of the Capitalist World. Woman's Position as a Breadwinner. Her Intellectual Faculties, Darwinism and the Condition of Society. Woman's Civic and Political Status. The State and Society. The Socialization of Society. WOMAN IN THE FUTURE. INTERNATIONALITY. POPULATION AND OVER-POPULATION. NEW YORK LABOR NEWS CO. 2-6 New Reade St. New York City * * * * * The Paris Commune By Karl Marx, with the elaborate introduction of Frederick Engels. It includes the First and Second manifestos of the International Workingman's Association, the Civil War in France and the Anti-Plebiscite Manifesto. Near his close of the Civil War in France, turning from history to forecast the future, Marx says: "After Whit-Sunday, 1871, there can be neither peace nor truce possible between the Workingmen of France and the appropriators of their produce. The iron hand of a mercenary soldiery may keep for a time both classes tied down in common oppression. But the battle must break out in ever growing dimensions, and there can be no doubt as to who will be the victor in the end--the appropriating few, or the immense working majority. And the French working class is only the vanguard of the modern proletariat." Price, 50 cents. New York Labor News Co. 2, 4, & 6 New Reade Street, New York City. 
26623	----	produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print project.) THE BRASS BELL OR THE CHARIOT OF DEATH A Tale of Caesar's Gallic Invasion By EUGENE SUE TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL FRENCH BY SOLON DE LEON NEW YORK LABOR NEWS COMPANY, 1907 NEW EDITION 1916 COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY THE NEW YORK LABOR NEWS CO. PREFACE TO THE TRANSLATION _The Brass Bell_; or, _The Chariot of Death_ is the second of Eugene Sue's monumental serial known under the collective title of _The Mysteries of the People; or History of a Proletarian Family Across the Ages_. The first story--_The Gold Sickle; or, Hena, the Virgin of the Isle of Sen_--fittingly preludes the grand drama conceived by the author. There the Gallic people are introduced upon the stage of history in the simplicity of their customs, their industrious habits, their bravery, lofty yet childlike--such as they were at the time of the Roman invasion by Caesar, 58 B. C. The present story is the thrilling introduction to the class struggle, that starts with the conquest of Gaul, and, in the subsequent seventeen stories, is pathetically and instructively carried across the ages, down to the French Revolution of 1848. D. D. L. TABLE OF CONTENTS. Preface to the Translation Chapter 1. The Conflagration 1 Chapter 2. In the Lion's Den 8 Chapter 3. Gallic Virtue 24 Chapter 4. The Trial 35 Chapter 5. Into the Shallows 41 Chapter 6. The Eve of Battle 52 Chapter 7. The Battle of Vannes 59 Chapter 8. After the Battle 80 Chapter 9. Master and Slave 88 Chapter 10. The Last Call to Arms 102 Chapter 11. The Slaves' Toilet 107 Chapter 12. Sold into Bondage 115 Chapter 13. The Booth across the Way 126 FOOTNOTES CHAPTER I. THE CONFLAGRATION. The call to arms, sounded by the druids of the forest of Karnak and by the Chief of the Hundred Valleys against the invading forces of the first Caesar, had well been hearkened to. The sacrifice of Hena, the Virgin of the Isle of Sen, seemed pleasing to Hesus. All the peoples of Brittany, from North to South, from East to West, rose to combat the Romans. The tribes of the territory of Vannes and Auray, those of the Mountains of Ares, and many others, assembled before the town of Vannes, on the left bank, close to the mouth of the river which empties into the great bay of Morbihan. This redoubtable position where all the Gallic forces were to meet, was situated ten leagues from Karnak, and had been chosen by the Chief of the Hundred Valleys, who had been elected Commander-in-Chief of the army. Leaving behind them their fields, their herds, and their dwellings, the tribes were here assembled, men and women, young and old, and were encamped round about the town of Vannes. Here also were Joel, his family, and his tribe. Albinik the mariner, together with his wife Meroë left the camp towards sunset, bent on an errand of many days' march. Since her marriage with Albinik, Meroë; was the constant, companion of his voyages and dangers at sea, and like him, she wore the seaman's costume. Like him she knew at a pinch how to put her hand to the rudder, to ply the oar or the axe, for stout was her heart, and strong her arm. In the evening, before leaving the Gallic army, Meroë dressed herself in her sailor's garments--a short blouse of brown wool, drawn tight with a leather belt, large broad breeches of white cloth, which fell below her knees, and shoes of sealskin. She carried on her left shoulder her short, hooded cloak, and on her flowing hair was a leathern bonnet. By her resolute air, the agility of her step, the perfection of her sweet and virile countenance, one might have taken Meroë for one of those young men whose good looks make maidens dream of marriage. Albinik also was dressed as a mariner. He had flung over his back a sack with provisions for the way. The large sleeves of his blouse revealed his left arm, wrapped to the elbow in a bloody bandage. Husband and wife had left Vannes for some minutes, when Albinik, stopping, sad and deeply moved, said to Meroë: "There is still time--consider. We are going to beard the lion in his den. He is tricky, distrustful and savage. It may mean for us slavery, torture, or death. Meroë, let me finish alone this trip and this enterprise, beside which a desperate fight would be but a trifle. Return to my father and mother, whose daughter you are also!" "Albinik, you had to wait for the darkness of night to say that to me. You would not see me blush with shame at the thought of your thinking me a coward;" and the young woman, while making this answer, instead of turning back, only hastened her step. "Let it be as your courage and your love for me bid," replied her husband. "May Hena, my holy sister, who is gone, protect us at the side of Hesus." The two continued their way along the crests of a chain of lofty hills. They had thus at their feet and before their eyes a succession of deep and fertile valleys. As far as eye could reach, they saw here villages, yonder small hamlets, elsewhere isolated farms; further off rose a flourishing town crossed by an arm of the river, in which were moored, from distance to distance, large boats loaded with sheaves of wheat, casks of wine, and fodder. But, strange to say, although the evening was clear, not a single one of those large herds of cattle and of sheep was to be seen, which ordinarily grazed there till nightfall. No more was there a single laborer in sight on the fields, although it was the hour when, by every road, the country-folk ordinarily began to return to their homes; for the sun was fast sinking. This country, so populous the preceding evening, now seemed deserted. The couple halted, pensive, contemplating the fertile lands, the bountifulness of nature, the opulent city, the hamlets, and the houses. Then, recollecting what they knew was to happen in a few moments, soon as the sun was set and the moon risen, Albinik and Meroë; shivered with grief and fear. Tears fell from their eyes, they sank to their knees, their eyes fixed with anguish on the depths of the valleys, which the thickening evening shade was gradually invading. The sun had disappeared, but the moon, then in her decline, was not yet up. There was thus, between sunset and the rising of the moon, a rather long interval. It was a bitter one for husband and wife; bitter, like the certain expectation of some great woe. "Look, Albinik," murmured the young woman to her spouse, although they were alone--for it was one of those awful moments when one speaks low in the middle of a desert--"just look, not a light: not one in these houses, hamlets, or the town. Night is come, and all within these dwellings is gloomy as the night without." "The inhabitants of this valley are going to show themselves worthy of their brothers," answered Albinik reverently. "They also wish to respond to the voice of our venerable druids, and to that of the Chief of the Hundred Valleys." "Yes; by the terror which is now come upon me, I feel we are about to see a thing no one has seen before, and perhaps none will see again." "Meroë, do you catch down there, away down there, behind the crest of the forest, a faint white glimmer!" "I do. It is the moon, which will soon be up. The moment approaches. I feel terror-stricken. Poor women! Poor children!" "Poor laborers; they lived so long, happy on this land of their fathers: on this land made fertile by the labor of so many generations! Poor workmen; they found plenty in their rude trades! Oh, the unfortunates! the unfortunates! But one thing equals their great misfortune, and that is their great heroism. Meroë! Meroë!" exclaimed Albinik, "the moon is rising. That sacred orb of Gaul is about to give the signal for the sacrifice." "Hesus! Hesus!" cried the young woman, her cheeks bathed in tears, "your wrath will never be appeased if this last sacrifice does not calm you." The moon had risen radiant among the stars. She flooded space with so brilliant a light that Albinik and his wife could see as in full day, and as far as the most distant horizon, the country that stretched at their feet. Suddenly, a light cloud of smoke, at first whitish, then black, presently colored with the red tints of a kindling fire, rose above one of the hamlets scattered in the plain. "Hesus! Hesus!" exclaimed Meroë. Then, hiding her face in the bosom of her husband who was kneeling near her, "You spoke truly. The sacred orb of Gaul has given the signal for the sacrifice. It is fulfilled." "Oh, liberty!" cried Albinik, "Holy liberty!----" He could not finish. His voice was smothered in tears, and he drew his weeping wife close in his arms. Meroë did not leave her face hidden in her husband's breast any longer than it would take a mother to kiss the forehead, mouth, and eyes, of her new born babe, but when she again raised her head and dared to look abroad, it was no longer only one house, one village, one hamlet, one town in that long succession of valleys at their feet that was disappearing in billows of black smoke, streaked with red gleams. It was all the houses, all the villages, all the hamlets, all the towns in the laps of all those valleys, that the conflagration was devouring. From North to South, from East to West, all was afire. The rivers themselves seemed to roll in flame under their grain and forage-laden barges, which in turn took fire, and sank in the waters. The heavens were alternately obscured by immense clouds of smoke, or reddened with innumerable columns of fire. From one end to the other, the panorama was soon nothing but a furnace, an ocean of flame. Nor were the houses, hamlets, and towns of only these valleys given over to the flames. It was the same in all the regions which Albinik and Meroë had traversed in one night and day of travel, on their way from Vannes to the mouth of the Loire, where was pitched the camp of Caesar.[1] All this territory had been burned by its inhabitants, and they abandoned the smoking ruins to join the Gallic army, assembled in the environs of Vannes. Thus the voice of the Chief of the Hundred Valleys had been obeyed--the command repeated from place to place, from village to village, from city to city: "In three nights, at the hour when the moon, the sacred orb of Gaul shall rise, let all the countryside, from Vannes to the Loire, be set on fire. Let Caesar and his army find in their passage neither men nor houses, nor provisions, nor forage, but everywhere, everywhere cinders, famine, desolation, and death." It was done as the druids and the Chief of the Hundred Valleys had ordered.[2] The two travelers, who witnessed this heroic devotion of each and all to the safety of the fatherland, had thus seen a sight no one had ever seen in the past; a sight which perhaps none will ever see in the future. Thus were expiated those fatal dissensions, those rivalries between province and province, which for too long a time, and to the triumph of their enemies, had divided the people of Gaul. CHAPTER II. IN THE LION'S DEN. The night passed. When the next day drew to its close Albinik and Meroë had traversed all the burnt country, from Vannes to the mouth of the Loire, which they were now approaching. At sunset they came to a fork in the road. "Of these two ways, which shall we take?" mused Albinik. "One ought to take us toward the camp of Caesar, the other away from it." Reflecting an instant, the young woman answered: "Climb yonder oak. The camp fires will show us our route." "True," said the mariner, and confident in his agility he was about to clamber up the tree. But stopping, he added: "I forgot that I have but one hand left. I cannot climb." The face of the young woman saddened as she replied: "You are suffering, Albinik? Alas, you, thus mutilated!" "Is the sea-wolf[3] caught without a lure?" "No." "Let the fishing be good," answered Albinik, "and I shall not regret having given my hand for bait." The young woman sighed, and after looking at the tree a minute, said to her husband: "Come, then, put your back to the trunk. I'll step in the hollow of your hand, then onto your shoulder, and from your shoulder I can reach that large branch overhead." "Fearless and devoted! You are always the dear wife of my heart, true as my sister Hena is a saint," tenderly answered Albinik, and steadying himself against the tree, he took in his hand the little foot of his companion. With his good arm he supported his wife while she placed her foot on his shoulder. Thence she reached the first large bough. Then, mounting from branch to branch, she gained the top of the oak. Arrived there, Meroë cast her eyes abroad, and saw towards the south, under a group of seven stars, the gleam of several fires. She descended, nimble as a bird, and at last, putting her feet on the mariner's shoulder, was on the ground with one bound, saying: "We must go towards the south, in the direction of those seven stars. That way lie the fires of Caesar's camp." "Let us take that road, then," returned the sailor, indicating the narrower of the two ways, and the two travelers pursued their journey. After a few steps, the young woman halted. She seemed to be searching in her garments. "What is the matter, Meroë?" "In climbing the tree, I've let my poniard drop. It must have worked out of the belt I was carrying it in, under my blouse." "By Hesus; we must get that poniard back," said Albinik, retracing his steps toward the tree. "You have need of a weapon, and this one my brother Mikael forged and tempered himself. It will pierce a sheet of copper." "Oh; I shall find it, Albinik. In that well-tempered little blade of steel one has an answer for all, and in all languages." After some search up the foot of the oak, Meroë found her poniard. It was cased in a sheath hardly as long as a hen's feather, and not much thicker. Meroë fastened it anew under her blouse, and started again on the road with her husband. After some little travel along deserted paths, the two arrived at a plain. They heard far in the distance the great roar of the sea. On a hill they saw the lights of many fires. "There, at last, is the camp of Caesar," said Albinik, stopping short, "the den of the lion." "The den of the scourge of Gaul. Come, come, the evening is slipping away." "Meroë, the moment has come." "Do you hesitate now?" "It is too late. But I would prefer a fair fight under the open heavens, vessel to vessel, soldier to soldier, sword to sword. Ah, Meroë, for us, Gauls, who despise ambuscade or cowardice, and hang brass bells on the iron of our lances to warn the enemy of our approach, to come here--traitorously!" "Traitorously!" exclaimed the young woman. "And to oppress a free people--is that loyalty? To reduce the inhabitants to slavery, to exile them by herds with iron collars on their necks--is that loyalty? To massacre old men and children, to deliver the women and virgins to the lust of soldiers--is that loyalty? And now, you would hesitate, after having marched a whole day and night by the lights of the conflagration, through the midst of those smoking ruins which were caused by the horror of Roman oppression? No! No! to exterminate savage beasts, all means are good, the trap as well as the boar-spear. Hesitate? Hesitate? Answer, Albinik. Without mentioning your voluntary mutilation, without mentioning the dangers which we brave in entering this camp--shall we not be, if Hesus aids our project, the first victims of that great sacrifice which we are going to make to the Gods? Come, believe me; he who gives his life has nothing to blush for. By the love which I bear you, by the virgin blood of your sister Hena, I have at this moment, I swear to you, the consciousness of fulfilling a holy duty. Come, come, the evening is passing." "What Meroë, the just and valiant, finds to be just and valiant, must be so," said Albinik, pressing his companion to his breast. "Yes, yes, to exterminate savage beasts all means are good, the trap as well as the spear. Who gives his life has no cause to blush. Come!" The couple hastened their pace toward the lights of the camp of Caesar. After a few moments, they heard close at hand, resounding on the earth, the measured tread of several soldiers, and the clashing of their swords on their iron armor. Presently they distinguished the invaders' red crested helmets glittering in the moonlight. "They are the soldiers of the guard, who keep vigil around the camp," said Albinik. "Let us go to them." Soon the travelers reached the Roman soldiers, by whom they were immediately surrounded. Albinik, who had learned in the Roman tongue these only words: "We are Breton Gauls; we would speak with Caesar," addressed them to his captors; but these, learning from Albinik's own admission that he and his companion were of the provinces that had risen in arms, forthwith took them prisoners, and treated them as such. They bound them, and conducted them to the camp. Albinik and Meroë were first taken to one of the gates of the entrenchment. Beside the gate, they saw, a cruel warning, five large wooden crosses. On each one of these a Gallic seaman was crucified, his clothes stained with blood. The light of the moon illuminated the corpses. "They have not deceived us," said Albinik in a low voice to his companion. "The pilots have been crucified after having undergone frightful tortures, rather than pilot the fleet of Caesar along the coast of Brittany." "To make them undergo torture, and death on the cross," flashed back Meroë, "is that loyalty! Would you still hesitate? Will you still speak of 'treachery'?" Albinik answered not a word, but in the dark he pressed his companion's hand. Brought before the officer who commanded the post, the mariner repeated the only words which he knew in the Roman tongue: "We are Breton Gauls; we would speak with Caesar." In these times of war, the Romans would often seize or detain travelers, for the purpose of learning from them what was passing in the revolted provinces. Caesar had given orders for all prisoners and fugitives who could throw light on the movements of the Gauls to be brought before him. The husband and wife were accordingly not surprised to see themselves, in fulfillment of their secret hope, conducted across the camp to Caesar's tent, which was guarded by the flower of his Spanish veterans, charged with watching over his person. Arrived within the tent of Caesar, the scourge of Gaul, Albinik and Meroë were freed of their bonds. Despite their souls' being stirred with hatred for the invader of their country, they looked about them with a somber curiosity. The tent of the Roman general, covered on the outside with thick pelts, like all the other tents of the camp, was decorated within with a purple-colored material embroidered with gold and white silk. The beaten earth was buried from sight under a carpet of tiger skins. Caesar was finishing supper, reclining on a camp bed which was concealed under a great lion-skin, decorated with gold claws and eyes of carbuncles. Within his reach, on a low table, the couple saw large vases of gold and silver, richly chased, and cups ornamented with precious stones. Humbly seated at the foot of Caesar's couch, Meroë saw a young and beautiful female slave, an African without doubt, for her white garments threw out all the stronger the copper colored hue of her face. Slowly she raised her large, shining back eyes to the two strangers, all the while petting a large greyhound which was stretched out at her side. She seemed to be as timid as the dog. The generals, the officers, the secretaries, the handsome looking young freedmen of Caesar's suite, were standing about his camp bed, while black Abyssinian slaves, wearing coral ornaments at their necks, wrists and ankles, and motionless as statues, held in their hands torches of scented wax, whose gleam caused the splendid armor of the Romans to glitter. Caesar, before whom Albinik and Meroë cast down their eyes for fear of betraying their hatred, had exchanged his armor for a long robe of richly broidered silk. His head was bare, nothing covered his large bald forehead, on each side of which his brown hair was closely trimmed. The warmth of the Gallic wine which it was his habit to drink to excess at night, caused his eyes to shine, and colored his pale cheeks. His face was imperious, his laugh mocking and cruel. He was leaning on one elbow, holding in one hand, thinned with debauchery, a wide gold cup, enriched with pearls. He looked at it leisurely and fitfully, still fixing his piercing gaze on the two prisoners, who were placed in such a manner that Albinik almost entirely hid Meroë. Caesar said a few words in Latin to his officers, who had been preparing to retire. One of them went up to the couple, brusquely shoved Albinik back, and took Meroë by the hand. Thus he forced her to advance a few steps, clearly for the purpose of permitting Caesar to look at her with greater ease. He did so, while at the same time and without turning around, reaching his empty cup to one of his young cup-bearers. Albinik knew how to control himself. He remained quiet while he saw his chaste wife blush under the bold looks of Caesar. After gazing at her for a moment, the Roman general beckoned to one of his interpreters. The two exchanged a few words, whereupon the interpreter drew close to Meroë, and said to her in the Gallic tongue: "Caesar asks whether you are a youth or a maiden!" "My companion and I have fled the Gallic camp," responded Meroë ingenuously. "Whether I am a youth or a maiden matters little to Caesar." At these words, translated by the interpreter to Caesar, the Roman laughed cynically, while his officers partook of the gaiety of their general. Caesar continued to empty cup after cup, fixing his eyes more and more ardently on Albinik's wife. He said a few words to the interpreter, who commenced to question the two prisoners, conveying as he proceeded, their answers to the general, who would then prompt new questions. "Who are you!" said the interpreter, "Whence come you!" "We are Bretons," answered Albinik. "We come from the Gallic camp, which is established under the walls of Vannes, two days' march from here." "Why have you deserted the Gallic camp!" Albinik answered not a word, but unwrapped the bloody bandage in which his arm was swathed. The Romans then saw that his left hand was cut off. The interpreter resumed: "Who has thus mutilated you?" "The Gauls." "But you are a Gaul yourself?" "Little does that matter to the Chief of the Hundred Valleys." At the name of the Chief of the Hundred Valleys, Caesar knit his brows, and his face was filled with envy and hatred. The interpreter resumed, addressing Albinik: "Explain yourself." "I am a sailor, and command a merchant vessel. Several other captains and I received the order to transport some armed men by sea, and to disembark them in the harbor of Vannes, by the bay of Morbihan. I obeyed. A gust of wind carried away one of my masts; my vessel arrived the last of all. Then--the Chief of the Hundred Valleys inflicted upon me the penalty for laggards. But he was generous. He let me off with my life, and gave me the choice between, the loss of my nose, my ears, or one hand. I have been mutilated, but not for having lacked courage or willingness. That would have been just, I would have undergone it according to the laws of my country, without complaint." "But this wrongful torture," joined in Meroë, "Albinik underwent because the sea wind came up against him. As well punish with death him who cannot see clear in the pitchy night--him who cannot darken the light of the sun." "And this mutilation covers me for ever with shame!" exclaimed Albinik. "Everywhere it is said: 'That fellow's a coward!' I have never known hatred; now my heart is filled with it. Perish that Fatherland where I cannot live but in dishonor! Perish its liberty! Perish the liberty of my people, provided only that I be avenged upon the Chief of the Hundred Valleys! For that I would gladly give the other hand which he has left me. That is why I have come here with my companion. Sharing my shame, she shares my hatred. That hatred we offer to Caesar; let him use it as he wills; let him try us. Our lives answer for our sincerity. As to recompense, we want none." "Vengeance--that is what we must have," interjected Meroë. "In what can you serve Caesar against the Chief of the Hundred Valleys?" queried the interpreter. "I offer Caesar my service as a mariner, as a soldier, as a guide, as a spy even, if he wishes it." "Why did you not seek to kill the Chief of the Hundred Valleys, being able to approach him in the Gallic camp?" suggested the interpreter. "You would have been revenged." "Immediately after the mutilation of my husband," answered Meroë, "we were driven from the camp. We could not return." The interpreter again conversed with the Roman general, who, while listening, did not cease to empty his cup and to follow Meroë with brazen looks. "You are a mariner, you say!" resumed the interpreter. "You used to command a merchantman?" "Yes." "And--are you a good seaman?" "I am five and twenty years old. From the age of twelve I have traveled on the sea; for four years I have commanded a vessel." "Do you know well the coast between Vannes and the channel which separates Great Britain from Gaul?" "I am from the port of Vannes, near the forest of Karnak. For more than sixteen years I have sailed these coasts continuously." "Would you make a good pilot?" "May I lose all the limbs which the Chief of the Hundred Valleys has left me, if there is a bay, a cape, an islet, a rock, a sand-bank, or a breaker, which I do not know from the Gulf of Aquitaine to Dunkirk." "You are vaunting your skill as a pilot. How can you prove it?" "We are near the shore. For him who is not a good and fearless sailor, nothing is more dangerous than the navigation of the mouth of the Loire, going up towards the north." "That is true," answered the interpreter. "Even yesterday a Roman galley ran aground on a sand-bank and was lost." "Who pilots a boat well," observed Albinik, "pilots well a galley, I think." "Yes." "To-morrow conduct us to the shore. I know the fisher boats of the country; my wife and I will suffice to handle one. From the top of the bank Caesar will see us skim around the rocks and breakers, and play with them as the sea raven plays with the wave it skims. Then Caesar will believe me capable of safely piloting a galley on the coasts of Brittany." Albinik's offer having been translated to Caesar by the interpreter, the latter proceeded: "We accept your test. It shall be done to-morrow morning. If it proves your skill as a pilot--and we shall take all precautions against treachery, lest you should wish to trick us--perhaps you will be charged with a mission which will serve your hatred, all the more seeing that you can have no idea of what that mission is. But for that it will be necessary to gain the entire confidence of Caesar." "What must I do!" "You must know the forces and plans of the Gallic army. Beware of telling an untruth; we already have reports on that subject. We shall see if you are sincere; if not, the chamber of torture is not far off." "Arrived at Vannes in the morning, arrested, judged, and punished almost immediately, and then driven from the Gallic camp, I could not learn the decisions of the council which was held the previous evening," promptly answered Albinik. "But the situation was grave, for the women were called to the council; it lasted from sun-down to dawn. The current rumor was that heavy re-enforcements to the Gallic army were on the way." "Who were those re-enforcements?" "The tribes of Finisterre and of the north coasts, those of Lisieux, of Amiens, and of Perche. They said, even, that the warriors of Brabant were coming by sea." After translating to Caesar Albinik's answer, the interpreter resumed: "You speak true. Your words agree with the reports which have been made to us. But some scouts returned this evening and have brought the news that, two or three leagues from here, they saw in the north the glare of a conflagration. You come from the north. Do you know anything about that?" "From the outskirts of Vannes up to three leagues from here," answered Albinik, "there remains not a town, not a borough, not a village, not a house, not a sack of wheat, not a skin of wine, not a cow, not a sheep, not a rick of fodder, not a man, woman, or child. Provisions, cattle, stores, everything that could not be carried away, have been given up to the flames by the inhabitants. At the hour that I speak to you, all the tribes of the burned regions are rallied to the support of the Gallic army, leaving behind them nothing but a desert of smouldering ruins." As Albinik progressed with his account, the amazement of the interpreter deepened, his terror increased. In his fright he seemed not to dare believe what he heard. He hesitated to make Caesar aware of the awful news. At last he resigned himself to the requirements of his office. Albinik did not take his eyes from Caesar, for he wished to read in his face what impression the words of the interpreter would make. Well skilled in dissimulation, they say, was the Roman general. Nevertheless, as the interpreter spoke, stupefaction, fear, frenzy and doubt betrayed themselves in the face of Gaul's oppressor. His officers and councillors looked at one another in consternation, exchanging under their breaths words which seemed full of anguish. Then Caesar, sitting bolt upright on his couch, addressed several short and violent words to the interpreter, who immediately turned to the mariner: "Caesar says you lie. Such a disaster is impossible. No nation is capable of such a sacrifice. If you have lied, you shall expiate your crime on the rack." Great was the joy of Albinik and Meroë on seeing the consternation and fury of the Roman, who could not make up his mind to believe the heroic resolution, so fatal to his army. But the couple concealed their emotions, and Albinik answered: "Caesar has in his camp Numidian horsemen, with tireless horses. Let him send out scouts instantly. Let them scour not only the country which we have just crossed in one night and day of travel, but let them extend their course into the east, to the boundary of Touraine. Let them go still further, as far as Berri; and so much further as their horses can carry them; they will traverse regions ravaged by fire, and deserted." Hardly had Albinik pronounced these words, when the Roman general shot some orders at several of his officers. They rushed from the tent in haste, while he, relapsing into his habitual dissimulation, and no doubt regretful of having betrayed his fears in the presence of the Gallic fugitives, affected to smile, and stretched himself again on his lion skin. He held out his cup to one of his cup-bearers, and emptied it after saying to the interpreter some words which he translated thus: "Caesar empties his cup to the honor of the Gauls--and, by Jupiter, he gives them thanks for having done just what he wished to do himself. For old Gaul shall humble herself vanquished and repentant, before Rome, like the most humble slave--or not one of her towns shall remain standing, not one of her warriors living, not one of her people free." "May the gods hear Caesar," answered Albinik. "Let Gaul be enslaved or devastated, and I shall be avenged on the Chief of the Hundred Valleys--for he will suffer a thousand deaths in seeing subdued or destroyed that fatherland which I now curse." While the interpreter was translating these words, the general, either to hide all the more his fears, or to drown them in wine, emptied his cup several times, and began to cast at Meroë more and more ardent looks. Then, a thought seeming to strike him, he smiled with a singular air, made a sign to one of the freedmen, and spoke to him in a low voice. He also whispered a few hurried words to the Moorish slave-girl, until then seated at his feet, whereupon she and the freedman left the tent. The interpreter thereupon returned to Albinik: "So far your answers have proved your sincerity. If the news you have just given is confirmed, if to-morrow you show yourself a capable and courageous pilot, you will be able to serve your revenge. If you satisfy Caesar, he will be generous. If you play us false your punishment will be terrible. Did you see, at the entrance to the camp, five men crucified!" "I saw them." "They are pilots who refused to serve us. They had to be carried to the crosses, because their legs, crushed by the torture, could not sustain them. Such will be your lot and that of your companion, upon the least suspicion." "I fear these threats no more than I expect a gift from the magnificence of Caesar," haughtily returned Albinik. "Let him try me first, then judge me." "You and your companion will be taken to a nearby tent; you will be guarded there like prisoners." At a sign from the Roman, the two Gauls were led away and conducted through a winding passage covered with cloth, into an adjacent tent, where they were left alone. CHAPTER III. GALLIC VIRTUE. So great was the distrust in which Albinik and his wife held everything Roman, that before passing the night in the tent to which they had been taken, they examined it carefully. The tent, round of form, was decorated inside with woolen cloth, striped in strongly contrasting colors. It was fixed on taut cords which were fastened to stakes driven into the earth. The cloth of the tent did not come down close to the ground, and Albinik remarked that between the coarsely tanned hides which served as a carpet, and the lower edge of the tent, there remained a space three times the width of his palm. There was no other visible entrance to the tent but the one the couple had just crossed, which was closed by two flaps of cloth overlapping each other. An iron bed furnished with cushions was half enveloped in draperies, with which one could shut himself in by pulling a cord hanging over the head of the bed. A brass lamp, raised on a long shaft stuck into the ground, feebly lighted the interior of the tent. After examining silently and carefully the place where he was to pass the night with his wife, Albinik said to her in a whisper: "Caesar will have us spied upon to-night. They will listen to our conversation. But no matter how softly they come, or how cunningly they hide themselves, no one can approach the cloth from the outside to listen to us, without our seeing, through that gap, the feet of the spy," and he pointed out to his wife the circular space left between the earth and the lower rim of the tent cloth. "Do you think, then, Albinik, that Caesar has any suspicions? Could he suppose that a man would have the courage to mutilate himself in order to induce confidence in his feelings of revenge?" "And our brothers, the inhabitants of the regions which we have just traversed, have they not shown a courage a thousand times greater than mine, in giving up their country to the flames? My one hope is in the absolute need our enemy has of Gallic pilots to conduct his ships along the Breton coasts. Now especially, when the land offers not a single resource to his army, the way by sea is perhaps his only means of safety. You saw, when he learned of that heroic devastation, that he could not, even he, always so dissembling, they say, hide his consternation and fury, which he then tried to forget in the fumes of wine. And that is not the only debauchery to which he gives himself up. I saw you blush under the obstinate looks of the infamous debauchee." "Oh, Albinik! while my forehead reddened with shame and anger under the eyes of Caesar, twice my hand sought and clasped under my garments the weapon with which I am provided. Once I measured the distance which separated me from him--it was too great." "At the first movement, before reaching him, you would have been pierced with a thousand sword thrusts. Our project is worth more. If it thrives," added Albinik, throwing a meaning glance at his companion, and instead of speaking low as he had been doing up till now, raising his voice little by little, "if our project thrives, if Caesar has faith in my word, we will be able at last to avenge ourselves on my tormentor. Oh, I tell you, I feel now for Gaul the hatred with which the Romans once inspired me!" Surprised by Albinik's words, Meroë stared at him in amazement. But by a sign he showed her, through the empty space left between the ground and the cloth, of the tent, the toes of the sandals of the interpreter, who had approached and now listened without. At once the young woman replied: "I share your hate, as I have shared your heart's love, and the peril of your mariner's life. May Hesus cause Caesar to understand what services you can render him, and I shall be the witness of your revenge as I was the witness of your torture." These words, and many others, exchanged by the couple to the end of deceiving the interpreter, apparently reassured the spy of the honesty of the two prisoners, for presently they saw him move away. Shortly thereafter, at the moment that Albinik and Meroë, fatigued with their long journey, were about to throw themselves into bed in their clothes, the interpreter appeared at the entry. The uplifted cloth disclosed several Spanish soldiers. "Caesar wishes to converse with you immediately," said the interpreter to the mariner. "Follow me." Albinik felt certain that the suspicions of the Roman general, if he had any, had just been allayed by the interpreter's report, and that the moment had come when he was to learn the mission with which they wished to charge him. Accordingly, he prepared to leave the tent, and Meroë with him, when the interpreter said to the young woman, stopping her with a gesture: "You may not accompany us. Caesar wishes to speak with your companion alone." "And I," answered the seaman, taking his wife by the hand, "I shall not leave Meroë." "Do you really refuse my order?" cried the interpreter. "Beware, beware!" "We go together to Caesar," began Meroë, "or we go not at all." "Poor fools! Are you not prisoners at our mercy?" said the interpreter to them, pointing to the soldiers, motionless at the door of the tent. "Willingly or unwillingly, I will be obeyed." Albinik reflected that resistance was impossible. Death he was not afraid of; but to die was to renounce his plans at the moment when they seemed to be prospering. Nevertheless, the thought of leaving Meroë alone in the tent disturbed him. The young woman divined the fears of her husband, and feeling, like him, that they must resign themselves, said: "Go alone. I shall wait for you without fear, true as your brother is an able armorer." Reassured by his wife's significant words, Albinik followed the interpreter. The door flaps of the tent, for the moment raised, fell back into place. Immediately, from behind them, she heard a heavy thud. She ran towards the place, and saw that a thick wicker screen had been fastened outside, closing the door. The young woman was at first surprised with this precaution, but she presently thought that it would be better to remain thus secured while awaiting Albinik, and that perhaps he himself had asked that the tent be closed till his return. Meroë accordingly seated herself thoughtfully on the bed, full of hope in the interview which undoubtedly her husband was then having with Caesar. Suddenly her revery was broken by a singular noise. It came from the part directly in front of the bed. Almost immediately, the cloth parted its whole length. The young woman sprang to her feet. Her first movement was to seize the poniard which she carried under her blouse. Then, trusting in herself and in the weapon which she held, she waited, calling to mind the Gallic proverb, "He who takes his own life in his hands has nothing to fear but the gods!" Against the background of dense shadows on which the tent cloth parted, Meroë saw the young Moorish slave approach, wrapped in her white garments. As soon as the slave had put her foot in the tent, she fell upon her knees, and stretched out her clasped hands to Albinik's companion. Touched by the suppliant gesture and the grief imprinted on the face of the slave, Meroë felt neither suspicion nor fear, but compassion mingled with curiosity, and she laid her poniard at the head of the bed. The Moorish girl advanced, creeping on her knees, her two hands still extended towards Meroë, who, full of pity, leaned towards the suppliant, meaning to raise her up. But when the slave had sufficiently approached the bed where the poniard was, she raised herself with a bound, and leaped to the weapon. Evidently she had not lost sight of it since entering the tent, and before Albinik's stupefied companion could oppose her, the poniard was flung into the outer darkness. By the peal of savage laughter which burst from the Moorish girl when she had thus disarmed Meroë, the latter saw that she had been betrayed. She ran toward the dark passage to recover her poniard, or to flee. But out of those shadows, she saw coming--Caesar. Stricken with fear, the Gallic woman recoiled several steps, Caesar advanced likewise, and the slave disappeared by the opening, which was immediately closed again. By the uncertain step of the Roman, by the fire in his looks, the excitement which impurpled his cheeks, Meroë saw that he was inebriate. Her terror subsided. He carried under his arm a casket of precious wood. After silently gazing at the young woman with such effrontery that the blush of shame again mounted to her forehead, the Roman drew from the casket a rich necklace of chased gold. He went closer to the lamp-light in order to improve its glitter in the eyes of the woman whom he wished to tempt. Then, simulating an ironical reverence, he stooped and placed the necklace at the feet of the Gaul. Rising, he questioned her with an audacious look. Meroë, standing with arms crossed on her breast, heaving with indignation and scorn, looked haughtily at Caesar, and spurned the collar with her foot. The Roman made an insulting gesture of surprise; he laughed with an air of disdainful confidence; and then drew from the casket a magnificent gold net-work for the hair, all encrusted with carbuncles. After making it sparkle in the lamp-light, he deposited the second trinket also at the feet of Meroë. Redoubling his ironical respect, he rose, and seemed to say: "This time I am sure of my triumph!" Meroë, pale with anger, smiled disdainfully. Then Caesar emptied at the young woman's feet all the contents of the casket. It was like a flood of gold, pearls, and precious stones, of necklaces, zones, earrings, bracelets, jewels of all sorts. This time Meroë did not push away the gewgaws with her foot. She ground under the heel of her boot as many of the trinkets as she could rapidly stamp upon, and drove back the infamous debauchee, who was advancing toward her with confidently open arms. Confused for a moment, the Roman put his hand to his heart, as if to protest his adoration. The woman of Gaul answered the mute language with a burst of laughter so scornful that Caesar, intoxicated with lust, wine and anger, seemed to say: "I have offered riches, I have offered prayers. All in vain; I shall use force." Albinik's wife was alone and disarmed. She knew that her cries would bring her no help. Her resolve was soon taken. The chaste, brave woman leaped upon the bed, seized the long cord which served to lower the draperies, and knotted it around her neck. Then she quickly climbed upon the head of the bed-stead, ready to launch herself into the air, and strangle herself by the weight of her own body at Caesar's first step towards her. So desperate was the resolution depicted on Meroë's face that the Roman general for an instant remained motionless. Then, urged either by compunction for his violence; or by the certainty that, if he attempted force, he would have but a corpse in his possession; or, as the unscrupulous libertine later pretended, by a generous impulse that had guided him throughout;--whatever his motive, Caesar stepped back several paces, and raised his hand to heaven as if to call the gods to witness that he would respect his prisoner. Still suspicious, the Gallic woman kept herself in readiness to give up her life. The Roman turned towards the secret opening of the tent, disappeared into the shadows for a moment, and gave an order in a loud voice. Immediately he returned, but kept himself at a wide distance from the bed, his arms crossed on his toga. Not knowing whether the danger she ran was not still to be increased, Meroë remained standing on the bed-stead with the cord about her neck. After a few minutes she saw the interpreter enter, accompanied by Albinik; with one bound she sprang to her husband. "Your wife is a woman of manful virtue," said the interpreter to Albinik. "Behold those treasures at her feet; she has spurned them. Great Caesar's love she has scorned. He pretended to resort to violence. Your companion, disarmed by a trick, was prepared to take her own life. Thus gloriously has she come out of the test." "The test?" answered Albinik, with an air of sinister doubt. "The test? Who, here, has the right to test the virtue of my wife?" "The thought of vengeance, which have brought you into the Roman camp, are the thoughts of a haughty soul, roused by injustice and barbarity. The mutilation which you have suffered seemed above all to prove the truth of your words," resumed the interpreter. "But fugitives always arouse a secret suspicion. The wife often is a test of the husband. Yours is a valiant wife. To inspire such fidelity, you must be a man of courage and of truth. That is what we wished to make sure of." "I don't know," began the mariner doubtfully, "the licentiousness of your general is well known----" "The gods have sent us in you a precious aid; you can become fatal to the Gauls. Do you believe Caesar is foolish enough to wish to make an enemy of you by outraging your wife, at the very moment, perhaps, when he is about to charge you with a mission of trust? No, I repeat: he wished to try you both, and so far the trials are favorable to you." Caesar interrupted the interpreter, saying a few words to him. Then bowing respectfully to Meroë, and saluting Albinik with a friendly gesture, he slowly and majestically left the tent. "You and your wife," said the interpreter, "are henceforth assured of the general's protection. He gives you his word for it. You shall no more be separated or disturbed. The wife of the courageous mariner has scorned these rich ornaments," added the interpreter, collecting the jewels and replacing them in the casket. "Caesar wishes to keep as a reminder of Gallic virtue the poniard which she wore, and which he took from her by ruse. Reassure yourself, she shall not remain unarmed." Almost at the same instant, two young freedmen entered the tent. They carried on a large silver tray a little oriental dagger of rich workmanship, and a Spanish saber, short and slightly curved, hung from a baldric of red leather, magnificently embroidered in gold. The interpreter presented the dagger to Meroë and the saber to Albinik, saying to them as he did so: "Sleep in peace, and guard these gifts of the grandeur of Caesar." "And do you assure him," returned Albinik, "that your words and his generosity dissipate my suspicions. Henceforth he will have no more devoted allies than my wife and myself, until our vengeance be satisfied." The interpreter left, taking with him the two freedmen. Albinik then told his wife that when he had been taken into the Roman general's tent, he had waited for Caesar, in company with the interpreter, up to the moment when they both returned to the tent, under the conduct of a slave. Meroë told in turn what had occurred to her. The couple concluded that Caesar, half drunk, had at first yielded to a foul thought, but that Meroë's desperate resolve, backed up by the reflection that he was running the risk of estranging a fugitive from whom he might reap good service, had curbed the Roman's passion. With his habitual trickery and address, he had given, under the pretext of a "trial," an almost generous appearance to the odious attempt. CHAPTER IV. THE TRIAL. The next morning Caesar, accompanied by his generals, set out for the bank which commanded the mouth of the Loire, where a tent had been set up for him. From this place the sea and its dangerous shores, strewn with sand-bars and rocks level with the water, could be seen in the distance. The wind was blowing a gale. Moored to the bank was a fisherman's boat, at once solid and light, rigged Gallic fashion, with one square sail with flaps cut in its lower edge. To this craft Albinik and Meroë were forthwith conducted. "It is stormy, the sea is menacing," said the interpreter to them. "Will you dare to venture it alone with your wife? There are some fishermen here who have been taken prisoners--do you want their help?" "My wife and I have before now braved tempests alone in our boat, when we made for my ship, anchored far out from shore on account of bad weather." "But now you are maimed," answered the interpreter. "How will you be able to manage!" "One hand is enough for the tiller. My companion will raise the sail--the woman's business, since it is a sort of cloth," gaily added the mariner to give the Romans faith in him. "Go ahead then," said the interpreter. "May the gods direct you." The bark, pushed into the waves by several soldiers, rocked a minute under the flappings of the sail, which had not yet caught the wind. But soon, held by Meroë, while her husband managed the tiller, the sail filled, and bellied out to the blast. The boat leaned gently, and seemed to fly over the crests of the waves like a sea-bird. Meroë, dressed in her mariner's costume, stayed at the prow, her black hair streaming in the wind. Occasionally the white foam of the ocean, bursting from the prow of the boat, flung its stinging froth in the young woman's noble face. Albinik knew these coasts as the ferryman of the solitary moors of Brittany knows their least detours. The bark seemed to play with the high waves. From time to time the couple saw in the distance the tent of Caesar, recognizable by its purple flaps, and saw gleaming in the sun the gold and silver which decked the armor of his generals. "Oh, Caesar!--scourge of Gaul--the most cruel, the most debauched of men!" exclaimed Meroë. "You do not know that this frail bark, which at this moment you are following in the distance with your eyes, bears two of your most desperate enemies. You do not know that they have beforehand given over their lives to Hesus in the hope of making to Teutates, god of journeys by land and by sea, an offering worthy of him--an offering of several thousand Romans, sinking in the depths of the sea. It is with hands raised to you, thankful and happy, O, Hesus, that we shall disappear in the bottom of the deep, with the enemies of our sacred Gaul!" The bark of Albinik and Meroë, almost grazing the rocks and glancing over the surges along the dangerous ashore, sometimes drew away from, sometimes approached the bank. The mariner's companion, seeing him sad and thoughtful, said: "Still brooding, Albinik! Everything favors our projects. The Roman general is no longer suspicious; your skill this morning will decide him to accept your services; and to-morrow, mayhap, you will pilot the galleys of our enemies----" "Yes, I will pilot them to the bottom, where they will be swallowed up, and we with them." "What a magnificent offering to the gods! Ten thousand Romans, perhaps!" "Meroë," answered Albinik with a sigh, "then, after ending our lives here, even as the soldiers, brave warriors after all, we shall be resurrected elsewhere with them. They will say to me: 'It was not through bravery, with the lance and the sword, that you overcame us. No, you slew us without a combat, by treason. You watched at the rudder, we slept in peace and confidence. You steered us on the rocks--in an instant the sea swallowed us. You are like a cowardly poisoner, who would send us to our death by putting poison in our food. Is that an act of valor? No, no longer do you know the open boldness of your fathers, those proud Gauls who fought us half naked, who railed at us in our iron armor, asking why we fought if we were afraid of wounds or death.'" "Ah!" exclaimed Meroë, sadly and bitterly, "Why did the druidesses teach me that a woman ought to escape the last outrage by death! Why did your mother Margarid tell us so often, as a noble example to follow, the deed of your grandmother Syomara, who cut off the head of the Roman who ravished her, and carrying the head under the skirt of her robe to her husband, said to him these proud and chaste words: 'No two men living can boast of having possessed me!' Why did I not yield to Caesar?" "Meroë!" "Perhaps you would then have been avenged! faint heart! weak spirit! Must then the outrage be completed, the ignominy swallowed, before your anger is kindled?" "Meroë, Meroë!" "It is not enough for you, then, that the Roman has proposed to your wife to sell herself, to deliver herself to him for gifts? It is to your wife--do you hear!--to your wife, that Caesar made that offer of shame!" "You speak true," answered the mariner, feeling anger fire his heart at the memory of these outrages, "I was a spiritless fellow----" But his companion went on with redoubled bitterness: "No, I see it now. This is not enough. I should have died. Then perhaps you would have sworn vengeance over my body. Oh, they arouse pity in you, these Romans, of whom we wish to make an offering to the gods! They are not accomplices to the crime which Caesar attempted, say you? Answer! Would they have come to my aid, these soldiers, these brave warriors, if, instead of relying on my own courage and drawing my strength from my love for you, I had cried, implored, supplicated, 'Romans, in the name of your mothers, defend me from the lust of your general'? Answer! Would they have come at my call? Would they have forgotten that I was a Gaul--that Caesar was Caesar? Would the 'generous hearts' of these brave fellows have revolted? After rape, do not they themselves drown the infants in the blood of their mothers?----" Albinik did not allow his companion to finish. He blushed at his lack of heart. He blushed at having an instant forgotten the horrible deeds perpetrated by the Romans in their impious war. He blushed at having forgotten that the sacrifice of the enemies of Gaul was above all else pleasing to Hesus. In his anger, he rang out, for answer, the war song of the Breton seamen, as if the wind could carry his words of defiance and death to Caesar where he stood on the bank: Tor-e-benn! Tor-e-benn![4] As I was lying in my vessel I heard The sea-eagle calling, in the dead of night. He called his eaglets and all the birds of the shore. He said to them as he called: 'Arise ye, all--come--come. It is no longer the putrid flesh of the dog or sheep we must have-- It is Roman flesh.' "Tor-e-benn! Tor-e-benn! Old sea-raven, tell me, what have you there? The head of the Roman leader I clutch; I want his eyes--his two red eyes!' And you, sea-wolf, what have you there? 'The heart of the Roman leader I hold-- I am devouring it.' And you, sea-serpent, what are you doing there, Coiled 'round that neck, your flat head so close To that mouth, already cold and blue? 'To hear the soul of the Roman leader Take its departure am I here!' Tor-e-benn! Tor-e-benn!" Stirred up, like her husband, by the song of war, Meroë repeated with him, seeming to defy Caesar, whose tent they discerned in the distance: "Tor-e-benn! Tor-e-benn! Tor-e-benn!" Still the bark of Albinik and Meroë played with the rocks and surges of those dangerous roads, sometimes drawing off shore, sometimes in. "You are the best and most courageous pilot I have ever met with, I, who have in my life traveled so much on the sea," said Caesar to Albinik when he had regained dry land, and, with Meroë, had left the boat. "To-morrow, if the weather is fair, you will guide an expedition, the destination of which you will know at the moment of setting sail." CHAPTER V. INTO THE SHALLOWS. The following day, at sunrise, the wind being favorable and the sea smooth, the Roman galleys were to sail. Caesar wished to be present at the embarkment. He had Albinik brought to him. Beside the general was a soldier of great height and savage mien. A flexible armor, made of interwoven iron links, covered him from head to foot. He stood motionless, a statue of iron, one might say. In his hand he held a short, heavy, two-edged axe. Pointing out this man, the interpreter said to Albinik: "You see that soldier. During the sail he will stick to you like your shadow. If through your fault or by treason, a single one of the galleys grates her keel, he has orders to kill you and your companion on the instant. If, on the contrary, you carry the fleet to harbor safely, the general will overwhelm you with gifts. You will then give the most happy mortals cause for envy." "Caesar shall be satisfied," answered Albinik. Followed by the soldier with the axe, he and Meroë went up into the galley Pretoria which was to lead the fleet. She was distinguished from the other ships by three gilded torches placed on the poop. Each galley carried seventy rowers, ten sailors to handle the sails, fifty light-armed archers and slingers, and one hundred and fifty soldiers cased in iron from top to toe. When the galleys had pulled out from shore, the praetor, military commandant of the fleet, told Albinik, through an interpreter, to steer for the lower part of the bay of Morbihan, in the neighborhood of the town of Vannes, where the Gallic army was assembled. Albinik with his hand at the tiller was to convey to the interpreter his orders to the master of the rowers. The latter beat time for the rowers, according to the pilot's orders, with an iron hammer with which he rapped on a gong of brass. As the speed of the Pretoria, whose lead the rest of the Roman fleet followed, needed quickening or slackening, he indicated it by quickening or slowing the strokes of the hammer. The galleys, driven by a fair wind, sailed northward. As the interpreter had done before, so now the oldest sailors admired the bold manoeuvre and quick sight of the Gallic pilot. After a sail of some length, the fleet found itself near the southern point of the bay of Morbihan, and knew that now it was to enter into those channels, the most dangerous on all the coast of Brittany because of the great number of small islands, rocks and sand banks, and above all, because of the undercurrents, which ran with irresistible violence. A little island situated in the mouth of the bay, which was still more constricted by two points of land, divided the inlet into two narrow lanes. Nothing in the surface of the sea, neither breakers nor foam nor change in the color of the waters gave token of the slightest difference between the two passes. Nevertheless, in one lay not a rock, while the other was strewn with danger. In the latter channel, after a hundred strokes of the oars, the ships in single file, led by the Pretoria, would have been dragged by a submarine current toward a reef of rocks which was visible in the distance, and over which the sea, calm everywhere else, broke tumultuously. The commanders of the several galleys could perceive their peril only one by one; each would be made aware of it only by the rapid drifting of the galley ahead of him. Then it would be too late. The violence of the current would drag and hurl vessel upon vessel. Whirling in the abyss, fouling the bottom, and crashing into one another, their timbers would part and they would sink into the watery depths with all on board, or else dash themselves on the rocky reef. A hundred more strokes of the oar, and the fleet would be annihilated in this channel of ruin. The sea was so calm and beautiful that not one of the Romans had any suspicion of danger. The rowers accompanied with songs the measured fall of their oars. Of the soldiers some were cleaning their arms; some were stretched out in the bow asleep; others were playing at huckle-bones. A short distance from Albinik, who was still at the helm, a white haired veteran with battle-scarred face was seated on one of the benches in the poop, between his two sons, fine young archers of eighteen or twenty years. They were conversing with their father, each with one arm familiarly laid on a shoulder of the old warrior, whom they thus held tight in their embrace; all three seemed to be talking in pleasant confidence, and to love one another tenderly. In spite of the hatred he entertained for the Romans, Albinik could not help sighing with pity when he thought of the fate of these three soldiers, who did not imagine they were so near the jaws of death. Just then one of those light boats used by the Irish seamen shot out from the bay of Morbihan by the safe channel. Albinik had, on his journeys, made frequent voyages to the coast of Ireland, an island that is inhabited by people of Gallic stock. They speak a language almost the same as that of the Gauls, yet difficult to understand for one who had not been as often on their coast as Albinik had. The Irishman, either because he feared that he would be pursued and caught by one of the men-of-war which he saw approaching, and wished to avoid that danger by coming up to the fleet of his own accord, or else because he had useful information to give, steered straight toward the Pretoria. Albinik shuddered. Perhaps the interpreter would question the Irishman, and he might point out the danger which the fleet ran in taking one of the passages. Albinik therefore gave orders to bend to the oars, in order to get inside the channel of destruction before the Irishman could join the galleys. But after a few words exchanged between the military commandant and the interpreter, the latter ordered them to wait for the boat which was drawing near, so as to ask for tidings of the Gallic fleet. Albinik obeyed; he did not dare to oppose the commandant for fear of arousing suspicion. Before long the little Irish shallop was within hailing distance of the Pretoria. The interpreter, stepping forward, hailed the Irishman in Gallic: "Where do you come from, and where are you bound to? Have you met any vessels at sea?" At these questions the Irishman motioned that he did not understand. Then he began in his own half-Gallic tongue: "I am coming to the fleet to give you news." "What language does the man speak?" said the interpreter to Albinik. "I do not catch his meaning, although his language does not seem entirely strange." "He speaks half Irish, half Gallic," answered Albinik. "I have often trafficked on the coasts of his country. I understand the tongue. The fellow says he has steered up to us to give us important news." "Ask him what his news is." "What information have you to give?" called Albinik to the Irishman. "The Gallic vessels," answered he, "coming from various ports of Brittany, joined forces yesterday evening in the bay I have just left. They are in great number, well armed, well manned, and cleared for action. They have chosen their anchorage at the foot of the bay, near the harbor of Vannes. You will not be able to see them till after doubling the promontory of A'elkern." "The Irishman carries us favorable tidings," cried Albinik to the interpreter. "The Gallic fleet is scattered on all sides; part of the ships are in the river Auray; the others, still more distant, towards the bay of Audiern, and Ouessant. At the foot of this bay, for the defense of Vannes, are but five or six poor merchantmen, barely armed in their haste." "By Jupiter!" exclaimed the interpreter, "the gods, as always, are favorable to Caesar!" The praetor and the officers, to whom the interpreter repeated the false news given by the pilot, seemed also overjoyed at the dispersion of the fleet of Gaul. Vannes was thus delivered into the hands of the Romans almost without defenses on the sea side. Then Albinik said to the interpreter, indicating the soldier with the axe: "Caesar has suspected me. The gods have been kind to allow me to prove the injustice of his suspicions. Do you see that islet, about a hundred oar-lengths ahead?" "I see it." "In order to enter the bay, we must take one of two passages, one to the right of the islet, the other to the left. The fate of the Roman fleet is in my hands. I could pilot you by one of these passages, which to the eye is exactly like the other, and an undercurrent would tow your galleys onto a sunken reef. Not one would escape." "What say you?" exclaimed the interpreter. As for Meroë, she gazed at her husband in pained surprise, for, by his words, he seemed finally to have renounced his vengeance. "I speak the truth," answered Albinik. "I'll prove it to you. That Irishman knows as well as I the dangers attendant upon entering the bay he has just left. I shall ask him to go before us, as pilot, and in advance I shall trace for you the route he will take. First he will take the channel to the right of the islet; then he will advance till he almost touches that point of land which you see furthest off; then he will make a wide turn to the right until he is just off those black rocks which tower over yonder; that pass behind us, those rocks shunned, we shall be safely in the bay. If the Irishman executes this manoeuvre from point to point, will you still suspect me?" "No, by Jupiter!" answered the interpreter. "It would then be absurd to entertain the least doubt of your good faith." "Judge me then," said Albinik, and he addressed a few words to the Irishman, who consented to pilot the ships. His manoeuvring tallied exactly with what Albinik had foretold. The latter, having given to the Romans this testimony of his truthfulness, deployed the fleet in three files, and for some time he guided them among the little islands with which the bay was dotted. Then he ordered the rowers to rest on their oars. From this place they could not see the Gallic fleet, anchored at the furthest part of the bay at almost two leagues' distance, and screened from all eyes by a lofty promontory. "Now," said Albinik to the interpreter, "We now run only one danger; it is a great one. Before us are shifting sandbanks, occasionally displaced by the high tides; the galleys might ground there. It is necessary, then, that I reconnoitre the passage plummet in hand, before bringing the fleet into it. Let them rest as they are on their oars. Order the smallest boat your galley has to be launched, with two rowers. My wife will take the tiller. If you have any suspicion, you and the soldier with the axe may accompany us in the boat. Then, the passage reconnoitred, I shall return on board to pilot the fleet even to the mouth of the harbor of Vannes." "I no longer suspect," answered the interpreter. "But according to Caesar's order, neither the soldier nor I may leave you a single instant." "Let it be as you wish," assented Albinik. A small boat was lowered from the galley. Two rowers descended into it, with the soldier and the interpreter; Albinik and Meroë embarked in their turn; and the boat drew away from the Roman fleet, which was disposed in a crescent, waiting on its oars, for the pilot's return. Meroë, seated at the helm, steered the boat according to the directions of her husband. He, kneeling and hanging over the prow, sounded the passage by means of a ponderous lead fastened to a long stout cord. Behind the little islet which the boat was then skirting stretched a long sand-bar which the tide, then ebbing, was beginning to uncover. Beyond the sand-bar were several rocks fringing the bank. Albinik was just about to heave the lead anew; while seeming to be examining on the cord the traces of the water's depth, he exchanged a rapid look with his wife, indicating with a glance the soldier and the interpreter. Meroë understood. The interpreter was seated near her on the poop; then came the two rowers on their bench; and at the farther end stood the man with the axe, behind Albinik, who was leaning at the bow, his lead in his hand. Rising suddenly he made of the plummet a terrible weapon. He imparted to it the rapid motion that a slinger imparts to his sling. The heavy lead attached to the cord struck the soldier's helmet so violently that the man sank to the bottom of the boat stunned with the blow. The interpreter rushed forward to the aid of his companion, but Meroë seized him by the hair and pulled him back; loosing his balance he toppled into the sea. One of the two rowers, who had raised his oar at Albinik, immediately rolled headlong overboard. The movement given to the rudder by Meroë made the boat approach so close to the rocky islet that she and her husband both leaped on it. Rapidly they climbed the steep rocks. There was now but one obstacle to their reaching shore. That was the sand-bar, one part of which, already uncovered by the sea, was in motion, as could be seen from the air bubbles which continually rose to the surface. To take that way to reach the rocks of the shore was to die in the abyss hidden under the treacherous surface. Already the couple heard, from the other side of the island, which hid them from view, the cries and threats of the soldier, who had recovered from his daze, and the voice of the interpreter, whom the rowers had doubtlessly pulled out of the water. Thoroughly familiar with these coasts, Albinik discovered, by the size of the gravel and the clearness of the water that covered it, that the sand-bar some paces off was firm. At that point, he and Meroë crossed, wading up to their waists. They reached the rocks on the shore, clambered up nimbly, and then stopped a moment to see if they were pursued. The man with the axe, hampered by his heavy armor and being, no more than the interpreter, accustomed to move upon slippery rocks covered with seaweed, such as were those of the islet which they had to cross in order to reach the fugitives, arrived after many efforts opposite the quicksands, which were now left high and dry by the tide. Furious at the sight of Albinik and his companion, from whom he saw himself separated by only a narrow and level sand-bar, the soldier thought the passage easy, and dashed on. At the first step he sank in the quicksand up to his knees. He made a violent effort to clear himself but sank deeper yet, up to his waist. He called his companions to his aid, but hardly had he called when only his head was above the abyss. Then the head also disappeared. The soldier raised his hands to heaven as he sank. A moment later only one of his iron gauntlets was to be seen convulsively quivering above the sand. Presently nothing was to be seen--nothing except some bubbles of air on the surface of the quagmire. The rowers and the interpreter, seized with fear, remained motionless, not daring to risk certain death in the capture of the fugitives. Feeling safe at last, Albinik addressed these words to the interpreter: "Say thou to Caesar that I maimed myself to inspire him with confidence in the sincerity of my offers of service. My design was to conduct the Roman fleet to certain perdition, sacrificing my companion and myself. Accident changed my plan. Just as I was piloting you into the channel of destruction, whence not a galley would have come back, we met the Irishman who informed me that the Gallic ships, since yesterday assembled in great numbers and trimmed for fight, are anchored at the foot of the bay, two leagues off. Learning that, I changed my plan. I no longer wished to cast away the galleys. They will be annihilated just the same, but not by a snare or by treachery; it will come about in valorous combat, ship to ship, Gaul to Roman. Now, for the sake of the fight to-morrow, listen well to this: I have purposely led your galleys into the shallows, where in a few minutes they will be left high and dry on the sands. They will stay there grounded, for the tide is falling. To attempt to disembark is to commit suicide; you are surrounded on all sides by moving quicksands like the one in which your soldier and his axe have just been swallowed up. Remain on board of your ships. To-morrow they will be floated again by the rising tide. And to-morrow, battle--battle to the finish. The Gaul will have once more showed that NEVER DID BRETON COMMIT TREASON, and that if he glories in the death of his enemy, it is because he has killed his enemy fairly." Then Albinik and Meroë, leaving the interpreter terrified by their words, turned in haste to the town of Vannes to give the alarm, and to warn the crews of the Gallic fleet to prepare for combat on the morrow. On the way, Albinik's wife said to him: "The heart of my beloved husband is more noble than mine. I wished to see the Roman fleet destroyed by the sea-rocks. My husband wishes to destroy it by the valor of the Gauls. May I forever be proud that I am wife to such a man!" CHAPTER VI. THE EVE OF BATTLE. It was the eve of the battle of Vannes; the battle of Vannes which, waged on land and sea, was to decide the fate of Brittany, and, consequently, of all Gaul, whether for liberty or enslavement. On this memorable evening, in the presence of all the members of our family united in the Gallic camp, except my brother Albinik, who had joined the Gallic fleet in the bay of Morbihan, my father Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, addressed me, his eldest born, Guilhern the laborer, who now writes this account. He said to me: "To-morrow, my son, is the day of battle. We shall fight hard. I am old--you are young. The angel of death will doubtless carry me hence first; perhaps to-morrow I shall meet in the other life my sainted daughter Hena. Here, now, is what I ask of you, in the face of the misfortunes which menace our country, for to-morrow the fortunes of war may go with the Romans. My desire is that as long as our stock shall last, the love of old Gaul and sacred memories of our fathers shall be ever kept fresh in our family. If our children should remain free men, the love of country, the reverence for the memory of their ancestors, will all the more endear their liberty to them. If they must live and die slaves, these holy memories will remind them, from generation to generation, that there was a time when, faithful to their gods, valiant in war, independent and happy, masters of the soil which they had won from nature by severe toil, careless of death, whose secret they held, the Gallic race lived, feared by the whole world, yet withal hospitable to peoples who extended to them a friendly hand. These memories, kept alive from age to age, will make slavery more horrible to our children, and some day give them the strength to overthrow it. In order that these memories may be thus transmitted from century to century, you must promise by Hesus, my son, to be faithful to our old Gallic custom. You must tenderly guard this collection of relics which I am going to entrust you with; you must add to it; you must make your son Sylvest swear to increase it in his turn, so that the children of your grandchildren may imitate their fore-fathers, and may themselves be imitated by their posterity. Here is the collection. The first roll contains the story of all that has chanced to our family up to the anniversary of my dear Hena's birthday, that day which also saw her die. This other roll I received this evening about sunset from my son Albinik the mariner. It contains the story of his journey across the burnt territory, to the camp of Caesar. This account throws honor on the courage of the Gaul, it throws honor on your brother and his wife, faithful as they were, almost excessively so, to that maxim of our fathers: 'Never did Breton commit treason.' These writings I confide to you. You will return them to me after to-morrow's conflict if I survive. If not, do you preserve them, or in lack of you, your brothers. Do you inscribe the principal events of your life and your family's; hand the account over to your son, that he may do as you, and thus on, forever--generation after generation. Do you swear to me, by Hesus, to respect my wishes?" I, Guilhern the laborer, answered: "I swear to my father Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, that I will faithfully carry out his desires." The orders then given to me by my father, I have carried out to-day, long after the battle of Vannes, and after innumerable misfortunes. I make the recital or these misfortunes for you, my son Sylvest. It is not with blood that I should write this narrative. No blood would run dry. I write with tears of rage, hatred and anguish,--their source never runs dry! After my poor and well-beloved brother Albinik piloted the Roman fleet into the bay of Morbihan, the following was the course of events on the day of the battle of Vannes. It all took place under my own eyes--I saw it all. Were I to have lived all the days I am to live in the next world and into all infinity, yet will the remembrance of that frightful day, and of the days; that followed it, be ever vivid before me, as vivid as it is now, as it was, and as it ever will be. Joel my father, Margarid my mother, Henory my wife, my two children Sylvest and Syomara, as well as my brother Mikael the armorer, his wife Martha, and their children, to mention only our nearest relatives, had, like all the rest of our tribe, gathered in the Gallic camp. Our war chariots, covered with cloth, had served us for tents until the day of the battle at Vannes. During the night, the council, called together by the Chief of the Hundred Valleys, and Tallyessin, the oldest of the druids, had met. Several mountaineers of Ares, mounted on their tireless little horses, were sent out in the evening to scout the area of the conflagration. At dawn they hastened back to report that at six leagues' distance from Vannes they saw the fires of the Roman army, encamped that night in the midst of the ruins of the town of Morh'ek. The Chief of the Hundred Valleys concluded that Caesar, to escape from the circle of devastation and famine that was drawing in closer and closer upon his army, had left the wasted country behind him by forced marches, and intended to offer battle to the Gauls. The council resolved to advance to meet Caesar, and to await him on the heights which overlooked the river Elrik. At break of day, after the druids had invoked the blessings of the gods, our tribe took up its march for its post in the battle. Joel, mounted on his high-mettled stallion Tom-Bras, commanded the _Mahrek-Ha-Droad_,[5] of which myself and my brother Mikael were members, I as a horseman, Mikael as a foot-soldier. According to the custom of the army, it was our duty to fight side by side, I on horse-back, he afoot, and mutually support each other. The war chariots, armed with scythes at the hubs, were placed in the center of the army, with the reserve. In one of them were my mother and wife, the wife of Mikael, and our children. Some young lads, lightly armed, surrounded the chariots and were with difficulty holding back the great war-dogs, which, after the example of Deber-Trud, the man-eater, were howling and tugging at their leashes, already scenting battle and blood. Among the young men of the tribe who were in the array, were two who had taken the bond of friendship, like Julyan and Armel. Moreover, to make it more certain that they would share the same fate, a stout iron chain was riveted to their collars of brass, and fastened them together. The chain as the symbol of their pledge of solidarity held them inseparable, scathless, wounded, or dead. On the way to our post in the battle, we beheld the Chief of the Hundred Valleys passing at the head of the _Trimarkisia_.[6] He rode a superb black horse, in scarlet housings; his armor was of steel; his helmet of plated copper, which shone like the sun, was capped by the emblem of Gaul, a gilded cock with half spread wings. At either side of the Chief rode a bard and a druid, clad in long white robes striped with purple. They carried no arms, but when the troops closed in to battle, then, disdainful of danger, they stood in the front ranks of the combatants, encouraging these with their words and their songs of war. Thus chanted the bard at the moment when the Chief of the Hundred Valleys passed by Joel's column: "Caesar has come against us. In a loud voice he asks: 'Do you want to be slaves? Are ye ready?' "No, we do not want to be slaves. No, we are not ready. Gauls! Children of the same race, Let us raise our standards on the mountains and pour down upon the plains. March on! March on against Caesar, Joining in the same slaughter him and his army! To the Romans! To the Romans!" As the bard sang this song, every heart beat with the ardor of battle.[7] As the Chief of the Hundred Valleys passed the troop at the head of which was my father Joel, he reined in his horse and cried: "Friend Joel, when I was your guest, you asked my name. I answered that I was called _Soldier_ so long as our old Gaul should be under the oppressor's scourge. The hour has come when we must show ourselves faithful to the motto of our fathers: 'In all war, there is but one of two outcomes for the man of courage: to conquer or to die.'[8] O, that my love for our common country be not barren! O, that Hesus keep our arms! Perhaps then the Chief of the Hundred Valleys will have washed off the stain which covers a name he no longer dares to bear.[9] Courage, friend Joel, the sons of your tribe are brave of the brave. What blows will they not deal on this day which makes for the welfare of Gaul!" "My tribe will strike its best, and with all its might," answered my father. "We have not forgotten that song of the bards who accompanied you, when the first war-cry burst from them in the forest of Karnak: 'Strike the Roman hard--strike for the head--still harder--strike!--The Romans, strike!'" With one voice the whole tribe of Joel took up the cry: "Strike!--The Romans, strike!" CHAPTER VII. THE BATTLE OF VANNES. The Chief of the Hundred Valleys took his departure, in order to address a few words of exhortation to each tribe. Before proceeding to our post of battle, far from the war chariots which held our wives, daughters and children, my father, brother and myself wished to make sure by a last look that nothing was lacking for the defense of that car which held our dear ones. My mother, Margarid, as calm as when she held the distaff in the corner of her own fireplace, was leaning against the oak panel which formed the body of the chariot. She had set Henory and Martha to work, giving more play to the straps which, fastened to pegs driven in the edge of the chariot, secured the handles of the scythes, which were used for defense in the same manner as oars fastened to the gunwhale of a boat. Several young girls and women of our kindred were occupied with other cares. Some were preparing behind the chariots, with thick skins stretched on cords, a retreat where the children would be under cover from the arrows and stones thrown by the slingers and archers of the enemy. Already the children were laughing and frolicking with joyous cries around the half finished den. As an additional protection, my mother Margarid, watchful in everything, had some sacks filled with grain placed in front of the hut. Other young girls were placing, along the interior walls of the car, knives, swords and axes, to be used in case of need, and weighing no more on their strong white arms than did the distaff. Two of their companions, kneeling near my mother, were opening chests of linen, and preparing oil, balm, salt and witch-hazel, to dress the wounds, following the example of the druidesses, near whom the car was stationed. At our approach the children ran gaily from the depths of their retreat into the fore-part of the wagon, whence they stretched out their little hands to us. Mikael, being on foot, took in his arms his son and his daughter, while Henory, to spare me the trouble of dismounting from my horse, reached out, one at a time, my little Syomara and Sylvest into my arms. I seated them both before me on the saddle, and at the moment of starting for the fight, I had the pleasure of kissing their yellow heads. My father, Joel, then said to my mother: "Margarid, if fortune turns against us, and the car is attacked by the Romans, do not free the dogs until the moment of attack. The brave animals will be only the more furious for their long wait, and will not then stray away from where you are." "Your advice will be followed, Joel," answered my mother. "Look and see if these straps give the scythes enough play." "Yes, they are free enough," answered my father, looking at some of the straps. Then, examining the array of scythes which defended the other side of the chariot, he broke out: "Wife, wife! What were those girls thinking of! Look here! Oh, the rattle heads! On this side the scythe-blades are turned towards the shaft of the chariot, and over there they are pointed backwards!" "It was I who had the weapons placed so," said she. "And why are not all the blades turned the same way, Margarid?" "Because a car is almost always attacked before and behind at once. In that case the two rows of scythes, placed in opposite directions, are the best defense. My mother taught me that, and I am showing the method to these dear girls." "Your mother saw further than I, Margarid. A good harvest time is thus made certain. Let the Romans come and assault the car! Heads and limbs will fall, mown down like ripe ears at the reaping! Let Hesus make it a good one, this human harvest!" Then, listening intently, my father said to Mikael and myself: "Sons, I hear the cymbals of the bards and the clarions of the _Trimarkisia_. Let us rejoin our friends. Well, Margarid, well, my daughters,--till we meet again, here--or above!" "Here or above, our fathers and husbands will find us pure and unstained," answered Henory, more proud, more beautiful than ever. "Victorious or dead you will see us again," added Madalen, a young maiden of sixteen. "But enslaved or dishonored, no. By the glorious blood of our Hena---- no---- never!" "No!" said Martha, the wife of Mikael, pressing to her bosom her two children, whom their father had just replaced in the chariot. "These dear girls are of our race--rest easy, Joel," continued my mother, even now calm and grave. "They will do their duty." "Even as we will do ours. And thus will Gaul be delivered," answered my father. "You also will do your duty, old man-eater, old Deber-Trud!" added the brenn, stroking the enormous head of the war-dog, who in spite of his chain, was standing up with his paws on the horse's shoulder. "Soon will come the hour of the quarry, fine bloody quarry, Deber-Trud! Her! Her! To the Romans!" The mastiff and the rest of the war pack responded to these words with furious bayings. The brenn, my brother and myself cast one last look upon our families. My father turned his spirited stallion's head towards the ranks of the army, and speedily came up with them. I followed my father, while Mikael, robust and agile, holding tightly with his left hand to the long mane of my galloping horse, ran along beside me. Sometimes falling in with the sway of the horse, Mikael leaped with it, and was thus raised off the ground for several steps. We two, like many others of our tribe, had in time of peace familiarized ourselves with the manly military exercise of the _Mahrek-Ha-Droad_. Thus the brenn, my brother and myself rejoined our tribe and took our stand in the ranks of battle. The Gallic army occupied the summit of a hill about one league's distance from Vannes. To the east their line of battle was covered by the forest of Merek, which was filled with their best archers. To the west they were defended by the lofty cliffs which rose from the bay of Morbihan. At the lower end of the bay was the fleet, already weighing anchor to proceed to the attack of the Roman galleys, which, motionless as a flock of sea-swans, lay at rest on the waves. No longer piloted by Albinik, the fleet of Caesar, although floated by the rising tide, still held its position of the previous evening, for fear of running upon the invisible rocks. Before the army flowed the River Roswallan. The Romans would have to ford it in order to attack us. Skillfully had the Chief of the Hundred Valleys chosen his position. He had before him a river; behind him the town of Vannes; on the west the sea; on the east the forest of Merek: its border chopped down, offered insurmountable obstacles to the Roman cavalry; and with an eye to the Roman infantry, the best of Gaul's archers were scattered among the mighty trees. The ground before us, on the opposite side of the river, rose in a gentle slope. Its crest hid from us the road by which the Roman army would arrive. Suddenly, on the summit of the slope there dashed into view several Ares mountaineers, who had been sent out as scouts to signal to us the approach of the enemy. They dashed down the hill at full speed, forded the river, joined us, and breathlessly announced the advance of the Roman army. "Friends!" the Chief of the Hundred Valleys called out to each tribe as he passed on horse-back before the army in battle array; "rest on your arms until the Romans, drawn up on the other bank of the river, begin to cross it. At that moment let the slingers and archers shower their stones and arrows upon the enemy. Then, when the Romans are forming their cohorts on this side, after crossing, let our whole line fall back, leaving the reserve with the war-chariots. Then, the foot soldiers in the center, the cavalry on the wings, let us pour down in a torrent from the top of this rapid decline. The enemy, driven back again to the river, will not withstand the impetuosity of our first charge!" Immediately the hill-top opposite the army was covered by the numberless troops of Caesar. In the vanguard marched the "Harassers," marked by the lion's skin which covered their heads and shoulders. The old legions, named from their experience and daring, as the "Thunderer," the "Iron Legion," and many others whom the Chief of the Hundred Valleys pointed out to his men, formed the reserve. We saw glittering in the sun the arms and the distinctive emblems of the legions, an eagle, a wolf, a dragon, a minotaur, and other figures of gilded bronze, decorated with leaves. The wind bore to us the piercing notes of the long Roman clarions, and our hearts leaped at the martial music. A horde of Numidian horsemen, wrapped in long white robes, preceded the army. The column halted a moment, and several of the Numidians went down at full tilt to the brink of the river. In order to ascertain whether it was fordable, they entered it on horse-back, and approached the nearer side, notwithstanding the hail of stones and arrows which the Gallic slingers and archers poured down upon them. More than one white robe was seen to float upon the river current, and more than one riderless horse returned to the bank and the Romans. Nevertheless, several Numidians, in spite of the stones and darts which were hurled upon them, crossed the entire breadth of the river several times. Such a display of bravery caused the Gallic archers and slingers to hold their fire by common accord, and do honor to such supreme valor. Courage in our enemies pleases us; it proves them more worthy of our steel. The Numidians, certain of having found a ford, ran to convey the news to the Roman army. Then the legions formed in several deep columns. The passage of the river commenced. According to the orders of the Chief of the Hundred Valleys, the archers and slingers resumed their shooting, while Cretan archers and slingers from the Balearic Islands, spreading over the opposite bank, answered our people. "My sons," said Joel to us, looking towards the bay of Morbihan, "your brother Albinik advances to the fight on the water as we begin the fight on land. See--our fleet has met the Roman galleys." Mikael and I looked in the direction the brenn was pointing, and saw our ships with their heavy leathern sails, bent on iron chains, grappling with the galleys. The brenn spoke true. The battle was joined on land and sea simultaneously. On that double combat depended the freedom or slavery of Gaul. But as I turned my attention from the two fleets back to our own army, I was struck to the heart with a sinister omen. The Gallic troops, ordinarily such chatterers, so gay in the hour of battle that from their ranks rise continually playful provocations to the enemy, or jests upon the dangers of war, were now sober and silent, resolved to win or die. The signal for battle was given. The cymbals of the bards spoke back to the Roman clarions. The Chief of the Hundred Valleys, dismounting from his horse, put himself some paces ahead of the line of battle. Several druids and bards took up their station on either side of him. He brandished his sword and started on a run down the steep hill-side. The druids and bards kept even pace with him, striking as they went upon their golden harps. At that signal, our whole army precipitated itself upon the enemy, who, now across the river, were re-forming their cohorts. The _Mahrek-Ha-Droad_, cavalry and footmen, of the tribes near that of Karnak, which my father commanded, darted down the slope with the rest of the army. Mikael, holding his axe in his right hand, was, during this impetuous descent, almost continually suspended from the mane of my horse, which he had seized with his left. At the foot of the slope, that troop of the Romans called the Iron Legion, because of their heavy armor, formed in a wedge. Immovable as a wall of steel, bristling with spears, it made ready to receive our charge on the points of its lances. I carried, in common with all the Gallic horsemen, a saber at my left side, an axe at my right, and in my hand a heavy staff capped with iron. For helmet I had a bonnet of fur, for breastplate a jacket of boar-hide, and strips of leather were wrapped around my legs where the breeches did not cover them. Mikael was armed with a tipped staff and a saber, and carried a light shield on his left arm. "Leap on the crupper!" I cried to my brother at the moment when the horses, now no longer under control, arrived at full gallop on the lances of the Iron Legion. Immediately we arrived within range we hurled our iron capped staffs full at the heads of the Romans with all our might. My staff struck hard and square on the helmet of a legionary, who, falling backward, dragged down with him the soldier behind. Through this gap my horse plunged into the thickest of the legion. Others followed me. In the melee the fight grew sharp. Mikael, always at my side, leaped sometimes, in order to deliver a blow from a greater height, to my horse's crupper, other times he made of the animal a rampart. He fought valorously. Once I was half unhorsed. Mikael protected me with his weapon till I regained my seat. The other foot-soldiers of the _Mahrek-Ha-Droad_ fought in the same manner, each one beside his own horseman. "Brother, you are wounded," I said to Mikael. "See, your blouse is red." "You too, brother," he responded. "Look at your bloody breeches." And, in truth, in the heat of combat, we do not feel these wounds. My father, chief of the _Mahrek-Ha-Droad_, was not accompanied by a foot-soldier. Twice we joined him in the midst of the fight. His arm, strong for all his age, struck incessantly. His heavy axe resounded on the iron armors like a hammer on the anvil. His stallion Tom-Bras bit furiously all the Romans within reach. One of them he almost lifted off the ground in his rearing. He held the man by the nape of the neck, and the blood was spurting. When the tide of the combat again carried Mikael and myself near our father, he was wounded. I overcame one of the brenn's assailants by trampling him under my horse's feet; then we were again separated from my father. Mikael and myself knew nothing of the other movements of the battle. Engaged in the conflict before us, we had no other thought than to tumble the Iron Legion into the river. To that end we struggled hard. Already our horses were stumbling over corpses as if in a quagmire. We heard, not far off, the piercing voices of the bards; their voices were heard over the tumult. "Victory to Gaul!--Liberty! Liberty! Another blow with the axe! Another effort! Strike, strike, ye Gauls.--And the Roman is vanquished.--And Gaul delivered. Liberty! Liberty! Strike the Roman hard! Strike harder!--Strike, ye Gauls!" The song of the bards, the hope of victory with which they inspired their countrymen, caused us to redouble our efforts. The remains of the Iron Legion, almost annihilated, recrossed the river in disorder. At that moment we saw running in our direction a Roman cohort, panic-stricken and in full rout. Our men had driven them back from the top of the hill, at the foot of which was the tribe of Karnak. The cohort, thus taken between two enemies, was destroyed. Slaughter was beginning to tire Mikael's arm and my own when I noticed a Roman warrior of medium height, whose magnificent armor announced his lofty rank. He was on foot, and had lost his helmet in the fight. His large bald forehead, his pale face and his terrible look gave him a terrifying appearance. Armed with a sword, he was furiously beating his own soldiers, all unable to arrest their flight. I called my brother's attention to him. "Guilhern," said he, "if they have fought everywhere as we have here, we are victorious. That soldier, by his gold and steel armor, must be a Roman general. Let us take him prisoner; he will be a good hostage. Help me and we'll have him." Mikael immediately hurled himself on the warrior of the golden armor, while the latter was still trying to halt the fugitives. With a few bounds of my horse, I rejoined my brother. After a brief struggle, Mikael threw the Roman. Wishing not to kill, but to take him prisoner, Mikael held him under his knees, with his axe uplifted, to signify to the Roman that he would have to give himself up. The Roman understood; no longer struggled to free himself; and raised to heaven the one hand he had free that the gods might witness he yielded himself a prisoner. "Off with him," said Mikael to me. Mikael, who like myself, was stalwart and stout, while our prisoner was slim and not above middle height, took the Roman in his arms and lifted him from the ground. I grasped him by the collar of buffalo-hide which he had on over his breastplate, drew him towards me, pulled him up, and threw him across my horse, in front of the saddle. Then, taking the reins in my teeth so as to have one hand to hold the prisoner, and the other to threaten him with my axe, I pressed the flanks of my horse, and set out in this fashion towards the reserve of our army, both for the purpose of putting the prisoner in safe keeping, and to have my wounds dressed. I had hardly started, when one of the horsemen of the _Mahrek-Ha-Droad_, happening that way in his pursuit of the fleeing Romans, cried out, as he recognized the man I was carrying: "IT IS CAESAR--STRIKE--KILL HIM!" Thus I became aware that I had on my horse the direst of Gaul's foes. So far from entertaining any thought of killing him, and seized with stupor, my axe slipped from my hand, and I leaned back in order the better to contemplate that terrible Caesar whom I had in my power. Unhappy me! Alas for Gaul! Caesar profited by my stupid astonishment, jumped down from my horse, called to his aid a troop of Numidian horsemen who were riding in search of him, and when I regained consciousness from my stupid amazement, the blunder was irreparable.[10] Caesar had leaped upon one of the Numidian riders' horse, while the others surrounded me. Furious at having allowed Caesar to escape, I now defended myself with frenzy. I received several fresh wounds and saw my brother Mikael die at my side. That misfortune was only the signal for others. Victory, so long hovering over our standards, went to the Romans. Caesar rallied his wavering legions; a considerable re-enforcement of fresh troops came to his aid; and our whole army was driven back in disorder upon the reserve, where were also our war-chariots, our wounded, our women and our children. Carried by the press of retreating combatants, I arrived in the proximity of the chariots, happy in the midst of defeat at having at least come near my mother and family, and at being able to defend them--if indeed the strength were spared me, for my wounds were weakening me more and more. Alas! The gods had condemned me to a horrible trial. I can now repeat the words of Albinik and his wife, both killed in the attack on the Roman galleys, and battling on the water as we did on the land for the freedom of our beloved country: "None ever saw, nor will ever see the frightful scene that I witnessed." Thrown back towards the chariots, still fighting, attacked at once by the Numidian cavalry, by the legionaries and by the Cretan archers, we yielded ground step by step. Already we could hear the bellowing of the oxen, the shrill sound of the numerous brass bells which trimmed their yokes, and the barking of the war dogs, still chained about the cars. Husbanding my ebbing strength, I no longer sought to fight, I strove only to reach the place where my family was in danger. Suddenly my horse, which had already sustained several wounds, received on the flank his death blow. The animal stumbled and rolled upon me. My leg and thigh, pierced with two lance thrusts, were caught as in a vise between the ground and the dead weight of my fallen steed. In vain I struggled to disengage myself. One of my comrades who, at the time of my fall, was following me, ran against the fallen horse. Steed and rider tumbled over the obstacle, and were instantly despatched by the blows of the legionaries. Our resistance became desperate. Corpse upon corpse piled up, both on top of and around me. More and more enfeebled by the loss of blood, overcome by the pains in my limbs, bruised under that heap of dead and dying, unable to make a motion, all sense left me; my eyes closed. Recalled to myself a moment later by the violent throbbing of my wounds, I opened my eyes again. The sight which met them at first made me believe I was seized with one of those frightful nightmares from which escape is vain. It was the horrible reality. Twenty paces from me I saw the car in which my mother, Henory my wife, Martha the wife of Mikael, their children, and several young women and girls of the family had taken refuge. Several men of our kindred and tribe, who had run like myself to the cars, were defending them against the Romans. Among the defenders I saw the two _saldunes_, fastened to each other by the iron chain, the symbol of their pledge of brotherhood. Both were young, beautiful and valiant. Their clothes were in tatters, their heads and chests naked and bloody. But their eyes flashed fire, and a scornful smile played on their lips, as, armed only with their staffs, they fearlessly fought the Roman legionaries sheathed in iron, and the Cretans clad in jackets and thigh-pieces of leather. The large dogs of war, shortly unchained, leaped at the throats of their assailants, often bearing them over backwards with their furious dashes. Their terrible jaws not being able to pierce either helmet or breastplate, they devoured the faces of their victims, killing without once letting go their grips. The Cretan archers, almost without defensive armor, were snatched by the legs, arms, shoulders, anywhere. Each bite of these savage dogs carried away a chunk of bleeding flesh. Several steps from where I lay, I saw an archer of gigantic stature, calm in the midst of the tumult, choose from his quiver his sharpest arrow, lay it on the string of his bow, pull it with a sinewy arm, and take long aim at one of the two chained _saldunes_, who, dragged down by the fall of his comrade, now dead by his side, could only fight on one knee. But so much the more valiantly did he ply his iron-capped staff. He swung it before him with such tireless dexterity that for some time none dared to brave its blows, for each stroke carried death. The Cretan archer, waiting for the proper moment, was again aiming at the _saldune_, when old Deber-Trud bounded forth. Held tight where I lay under the heap of dead which was crushing me, unable to move without causing intense pain in my wounded thigh, I summoned all my remaining strength to cry out: "Hou! Hou! Deber-Trud--at the Roman." The dog, increasingly excited by my voice, which he recognized, dashed with one bound upon the Cretan, at the moment when the arrow hissed from the string, and buried itself, still quivering, in the stalwart breast of the _saldune_. With this new wound his eyes closed, his heavy arms let fall the staff, his other knee gave way, his body sank to the ground; but by a last effort, the _saldune_ rose on both knees, snatched the arrow from the wound, and threw it back at the Roman legionaries, calling in a voice still strong, and with a smile of supreme contempt: "For you, cowards, who shelter your fear and your bodies under plates of iron. The breastplate of the Gaul is his naked bosom."[11] And the _saldune_ fell dead upon the body of his brother-in-arms. Both of them were avenged by Deber-Trud. The terrible dog had hurled down and was holding under his enormous paws the Cretan archer, who was uttering frightful cries. With one bite of his fangs, as dangerous as those of a lion, the dog tore his victim's throat so deeply that two jets of warm blood poured out on the archer's chest. Though still alive, the man could utter no sound. Deber-Trud, seeing that his prey still lived, fell upon him, roaring furiously, swallowing or throwing aside shreds of severed flesh. I heard the sides of the Cretan crack and grind under the teeth of Deber-Trud, who dug and dug, burying his bloody muzzle up to the eyes in the man's chest. Then a legionary ran up and transfixed Deber-Trud with one thrust of his lance. The dog gave not a groan. He died like a good war-dog, his monstrous head plunged in the Roman's entrails.[12] After the death of the two _saldunes_, the defenders of the chariots fell one by one. My mother Margarid, Martha, Henory, and the young girls of the family, with burning eyes and cheeks, their hair flying, their clothes disordered from the struggle, their arms and bosoms half uncovered, were running fearlessly from one end of the chariot to the other, encouraging the combatants by voice and gesture, and casting at the Romans with no feeble or untrained hands short pikes, knives, and spiked clubs. At last the critical moment came. All the men were killed, the chariot, surrounded by bodies piled half way up its sides, was defended only by the women. There they were, with my mother Margarid, five young women and six maidens, almost all of superb beauty, heightened by the ardor of battle. The Romans, sure of this prize of their obscene revels, and wishing to take it alive, consulted a moment on a plan of attack. I understood not their words, but from their coarse laugh, and the licentious looks which they threw upon the Gallic women, there could be no doubt as to the fate which awaited them. I lay there, broken, pinned fast; breathless, full of despair, horror, and impotent rage I lay there, seeing a few steps from me the chariot in which were my mother, my wife, my children.--Oh, wrathful heavens!--like one unable to awake from a horrible dream, I lay there condemned to see all, hear all, and yet to remain motionless. An officer of savage and insolent mien advanced alone towards the chariot and addressed to the women some words in the Latin tongue which the soldiers received with roars of revolting laughter. My mother, calm, pale, and terrible, exhorted the young women around her to maintain their self-control. Then the Roman, adding a word or two, closed with an obscene gesture. Margarid happened at that moment to have in her hand a heavy axe. So straight at the officer's head she hurled it, that he reeled and fell. His fall was the signal for the attack. The legionaries pressed forward to the capture of the chariot. Then the women rushed to the scythes, which on each side defended the cart, and plied them with such vigor and harmony, that the Romans, seeing a great number of their men killed or disabled, conceived a wholesome fear for such terrible arms, so intrepidly plied. They suspended the attack, and, applying their long lances after the fashion of crow-bars, succeeded, without approaching too near, in shattering the handles of the scythes. This safeguard demolished, a new attack commenced. The issue was not doubtful. While the scythes were falling under the blows of the soldiers, my mother hurriedly said a few words to Martha and Henory. The two, with a look of pride and determination on their faces, ran towards the cover which sheltered the children. Margarid also spoke to the young childless women, and they, as well as the young girls, took and piously kissed her hands. At that moment, the last scythes fell. Margarid seized a sword in one hand and a white cloth in the other. She stepped to the front of the chariot, waved the white cloth, and threw away the sword, as if to announce to the enemy that all the women wished to give themselves up. The soldiers, at first astonished at the proposed surrender, answered with laughs of ironical consent. Margarid seemed to be awaiting a signal. Twice she impatiently cast her eyes toward the shelter, where the two women had gone. Evidently, as the signal she seemed to wait for was not given, she was trying to distract the enemy's attention, and again waved her cloth, pointing alternately to the town of Vannes and to the sea. The soldiers, unable to take in the meaning of these gestures, looked at one another questioningly. Then Margarid, after another hasty glance at the redoubt, exchanged a few words with the girls round about her, seized a dagger, and, in quick succession struck three of the maidens, who had nobly bared their chaste bosoms to the knife. Meanwhile the other young women dispatched one another with steady hands. They had just fallen when Martha reappeared from the enclosure where the children had been hidden during the battle. Proud and serene, she held her two little daughters in her arms. A spare wagon-pole stood in front of her, the upper extremity of which was at a considerable elevation from the ground. She leaped on the edge of the car; a cord was around her neck. She passed the end of the cord through the ring at the extremity of the pole. Margarid steadied it in both hands. Martha leaped into the air with outspread arms, and hung there, strangled. Her two little children, instead of falling to the ground, remained suspended on either side of her breast, for she had passed the noose around their necks also. All this occurred so rapidly, that the Romans, at first struck dumb with astonishment and fear, had no time to prevent the heroic deaths. They had barely recovered from their amazement when Margarid, seeing all her family either dying or dead at her feet, raised to heaven her blood-stained knife, and exclaimed in a calm and steady voice: "Our daughters shall not be outraged; our children shall not be enslaved; all of us, of the family of Joel the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, dead, like our husbands and brothers, for the liberty of Gaul, are on our way to rejoin them above. Perhaps, O Hesus, all this spilled blood will appease you;" and with a hand which did not waver, she plunged the dagger into her own heart. All these terrible events which happened around the Chariot of Death I was compelled to behold, as I lay nearby, pinned to the ground. My wife Henory not having emerged from the enclosure, I concluded that she had put an end to herself there, first putting to death my little ones Sylvest and Syomara. My brain began to reel, my eyes closed; I felt that I was dying, and thanked Hesus for not leaving me behind alone when all my dear ones were to enter together upon the other life in the unknown world. But, no, it was here below, on earth, that I was to return to life--to face new torments after those I had just undergone. CHAPTER VIII. AFTER THE BATTLE. After I had beheld my mother and all the other women of the tribe die to escape the shame and outrages of slavery, the blood which I had lost caused me to swoon away. A long time passed in which I was bereft of reason. When my senses returned, I found myself lying on straw, along with a great number of other men, in a vast shed. At my first motion I found myself chained by the leg to a stake driven into the ground. I was half clad; they had left me my shirt and breeches, in a secret pocket of which I had hidden the writings of my father and of my brother Albinik, together with the little gold sickle, the gift of my sister Hena. A dressing had been put on my wounds, which no longer occasioned me much pain. I experienced only a great weakness and dizziness which made my last memories a confused mass. I looked about me. I was one of perhaps fifty wounded prisoners, all chained to their litters. At the further end of the shed were several armed men, who did not bear the appearance of regular Roman troops. They were seated round a table, drinking and singing. Some among them, who carried short-handled scourges twisted of several thongs and terminating in bits of lead, detached themselves from time to time from the group, and walked here and there with the uncertain gait of drunken men, casting jeering looks on the prisoners. Next to me lay an aged man with white hair and beard, very pale and thin. A bloody band half hid his forehead. He was sitting up, his elbows on his knees, and his face between his hands. Seeing him wounded and a prisoner, I concluded he was a Gaul. I did not err. "Good father," I said to him, laying my hand lightly upon the old man's arm, "where are we?" Slowly raising his sad and mournful visage, the old prisoner answered compassionately: "Those are the first words you have spoken for two days." "For two days?" I repeated, greatly astonished. I was unable to believe so much time had passed since the battle of Vannes. I sought to recall my wandering memory. "Is it possible? What, I have been here two days?" "Yes, and you have been unconscious, in a delirium. The physician who dressed your wounds made you take several potions." "Now I recall it confusedly. And also--a ride in a chariot?" "Yes, to come here from the battle-ground. I was with you in the chariot, whither they carried you wounded and dying." "And here we are--?" "At Vannes." "Our army?" "Destroyed." "Our fleet?" "Annihilated."[13] "O, my brother, and your courageous wife Meroë, both dead also!" flashed through my mind. "And Vannes, where we are," I added aloud to my companion, "Vannes is in the power of the Romans?" "Even as the whole of Brittany, they say." "And the Chief of the Hundred Valleys?" "He has fled into the mountains of Ares with a handful of cavalry. The Romans are in pursuit of him." Then raising his eyes to heaven, he continued, "May Hesus and Teutates protect that last defender of the Gauls!" I had put these questions while my thoughts were still disordered. But when I recalled the struggle at the chariot of war, the death of my mother, my father, my brother Mikael, my brother's wife and his two children, and finally, the almost certain death of my own wife with her son and daughter--for up to the moment when I lost consciousness I had not seen Henory leave the shelter behind the chariot--when I recalled all that, I heaved, in spite of myself, a great sigh of despair at finding myself alone in the world. I buried my face in the straw to shut out the light of day. One of the tipsy keepers became irritated at hearing my moans, and showered several cruel blows of the scourge, accompanied with oaths, upon my shoulders. Forgetting the pain in the shame that I felt at the thought of me, the son of Joel, being struck with the lash, I leaped to my feet notwithstanding my weakness, intending to throw myself upon the keeper. But my chain, sharply tightened by the jerk, checked me, and made me trip and fall upon my knees. The keeper, enabled by the length of his scourge to keep out of the prisoners' reach, thereupon redoubled his blows, lashing me across the face, chest, and back. Other keepers ran up, fell upon me, and slipped manacles of iron upon my wrists. Oh, my son, my son! You, for whose eyes I write all this down, obedient to the wishes of my father, never do yourself forget, and let also your sons preserve the memory of this outrage, the first that our stock ever underwent. Live, that you may avenge the outrage in due time. And if you cannot, let your sons wreak vengeance upon the Romans therefore. With my feet chained and my hands in irons, unable to move, I did not wish to afford my tormentors the spectacle of impotent rage. I closed my eyes and lay still, betraying neither anger nor grief, while the keepers, provoked by my calmness, beat me furiously. Presently, however, a strange voice having interposed and spoken a few angry words in the Latin tongue, the blows ceased. I opened my eyes and three new personages stood before me. One of them was speaking rapidly to the keepers, gesticulating angrily, and pointing at me from time to time. This man was short and stout; he had a very red face, white hair and pointed grey beard. He wore a short robe of brown wool, buck-skin stocks, and low leather boots; he was not dressed in the Roman fashion. Of the two men who accompanied him, one, dressed in a long black robe, had a grave and sinister mien. The other held a casket under his arm. While I was gazing at these persons, my aged neighbor called my attention with a rapid glance to the fat little man with the red face and the white hair, who was conversing with the keepers, and said to me with a look of anger and disgust: "The horse-dealer; the horse-dealer!" "What are you talking about?" I answered him, unable to understand what he meant. "A horse-dealer?" "That is what the Romans call the slave merchants."[14] "How! They traffic in wounded men?" I asked the old man in surprise. "Are there men who buy the dying?" "Do you not know," he answered with a somber smile, "that after the battle of Vannes there were more dead than living, and not an unwounded Gaul? Upon these wounded men, in default of more able-bodied prey, the slave-dealers who follow the Roman army fell like so many ravens upon corpses." There was no more room for doubt. I realized that I was a slave. I had been bought. I would be sold again. The "horse-dealer," having finished speaking to the keepers, approached the old man, and said to him in Gallic, but with an accent that proved his foreign origin: "My old Pierce-Skin--how has your neighbor come on? Has he at last recovered from his stupor? Is he at last able to speak?" "Ask him," snapped the old man, turning over on the straw. "He'll answer you himself." The "horse-dealer" thereupon walked over to my side. He seemed no longer angry. His countenance, naturally jovial, was beaming. Putting his two hands on his knees, he stooped down to me; grinned at me; and spoke to me hurriedly, often putting questions which he answered himself, not seeming to care whether I heard him or not. "You have, then, recovered your spirits, my fine Bull? Yes? Ah, so much the better! By Jupiter, it's a good sign. Now your appetite will return, and it is returning, isn't it? Still better! Before eight days you will be in fine feather. Those brutes of keepers, always in their cups, scourged you, did they? Yes? I'm not a bit surprised--they never do anything else. The wine of Gaul makes them stupid. To strike you! To strike you! And that when you can hardly stand up; besides the fact that in men of the Gallic race, choler is likely to produce bad results. But you are no longer angry, are you? No! So much the better! It is I who should be provoked at those tipsters. Suppose the fury raging in your blood had stifled you! But, bah! those brutes care little for making me lose twenty-five or thirty gold sous,[15] which you will presently be worth to me, my fine Bull. But for greater safety I'll have you taken to a shelter where you will be alone and better off than here. It was occupied by a wounded fellow who died last night--a superb fellow. That was a loss! Ah, commerce is not all gain. Come, follow me." He set to work to unfasten my chain by a secret spring. I asked him why he always called me "Bull." I would have preferred by far the keeper's lash to the jovial loquacity of this trafficker in human flesh. Certain now that I was not dreaming, still I could hardly accept the reality of what I saw. Unable to resist, I followed the man. At least I would no longer be under the eyes of the keepers who beat me, and the sight of whom made my blood boil. I made an effort to raise myself, but my weakness was still excessive. The "horse-dealer" unhooked the chain, and held one end. As my hands were still shackled, the man with the long black robe and the one who carried the casket took me under the arms, and led me to the extremity of the shed. They made me mount several stairs and enter a small room that was lighted through an iron-barred opening. I looked through the opening and recognized the great square of the town of Vannes, and, in the distance, the house where I had often gone to see my brother Albinik and his wife. In the room were a stool, a table, and a long box of fresh straw, in place of the one in which the other slave had died. I was made to sit on the stool. The black-robed man, a Roman physician, examined my two wounds, constantly conversing in his own language with the "horse-dealer." He took various salves from the casket which his companion was carrying, dressed my hurts, and went to render his services to the other slaves, not, however, before helping the "horse-dealer" to fasten my chain to the wooden box which served as my bed. The physician then took his departure, and left me alone with my master. CHAPTER IX. MASTER AND SLAVE. "By Jupiter," began my master immediately after the departure of the physician. "By Jupiter," he repeated in his satisfied and hilarious manner, so revolting to me: "Your injuries are healing so fast that you can see them heal, a proof of the purity of your blood; and with pure blood there are no such things as wounds, says the son of Aesculapius. But here you are back in your senses, my brave Bull. You are going to answer my questions, aren't you? Yes? Then, listen to me." Drawing from his pocket a stylus and a tablet, covered with wax, the "horse-dealer" continued: "I do not ask your name. You have no longer any name but that which I have given you, until your new owner shall name you differently. As for me, I have named you Bull[16]--a proud name, isn't it? You are worthy to bear it. It becomes you. So much the better." "Why have you named me Bull?" "Why did I name that old fellow, your late neighbor, Pierce-Skin? Because his bones stick out through his skin. But you, apart from your two wounds, what a strong constitution you have! What broad shoulders! What a chest! What a back! What powerful limbs!" While pouring out these praises, the "horse-dealer" rubbed his hands and gazed at me with satisfaction and covetousness, already figuring in advance the price I would fetch. "And your height! It exceeds by a palm that of the next tallest captive in my lot. So, seeing you so robust, I have named you Bull. Under that name you are entered in my inventory, at your number; and under that name will you be cried at the auction!" I knew that the Romans sold their slaves to the slave merchants. I knew that slavery was horrible, and I approved of a mother's killing her children sooner than have them live a captive's life. I knew that a slave became a beast of burden. While the "horse-dealer" was speaking, I drew my hand across my forehead to make sure that it was really I, Guilhern, the son of Joel the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, a son of that free and haughty race, whom they were treating like a beef for the mart. The shame of a life of slavery seemed to me insupportable, and I took heart at the resolve to flee at the first opportunity, or to kill myself and thus rejoin my relatives. That thought calmed me. I had neither the hope nor the desire to learn whether my wife and children had escaped death; but remembering that I had seen neither Henory, Sylvest nor Syomara come from the enclosure behind the war-chariot, I said to the "horse-dealer": "Where did you purchase me?" "In the place where we make all our purchases, my fine Bull. On the field of battle, after the combat." "So it was on the battlefield of Vannes you bought me?" "The same." "You doubtlessly picked me up at the place where I fell?" "Yes, there was a great pile of you Gauls there, in which there were only you and three others worth taking, among them that great booby, your neighbor--you know, Pierce-Skin. The Cretan archers gave him to me for good measure[17] after the sale. That is the way with you Gauls. You fight so desperately that after a battle live captives are exceedingly rare, and consequently priceless. I simply can't put out much money, so I must come down to the wounded ones. My partner, the son of Aesculapius, goes with me to the battlefield to examine the wounded men and guard the ones I choose. Thus, in spite of your two wounds and your unconsciousness, the young doctor said to me, after examining you and sounding your hurts, 'Buy, my pal, buy. Nothing but the flesh is cut, and that is in good condition; that will lower the value of your merchandise but little, and will prevent any breach of contract.'[18] Then you see, I, a real 'horse-dealer' who knows the trade, I said to the archers, poking you with my foot, 'As to that great corpse there, who has no more than his breath, I don't want him in my lot at all.'" "When I used to buy cattle in the market," I said to the "horse-dealer," mockingly, "when I used to buy cattle in the market, I was less skilful than you." "Oh, that is because I am an old hand, and know my trade. So the Cretans answered me, seeing that I didn't think much of you, 'But this thrust of the lance and this saber-cut are mere scratches.' 'Scratches, my masters!' said I in my turn, 'but it's no use poking or turning him,' and I kicked you and turned you over, 'See, he gives no sign of life. He is dying, my noble sons of Mars. He is already cold.' In short, my fine Bull, I had you for two sous of gold." "I see I cost but little; but to whom will you sell me?" "To the traffickers from Italy and the southern part of Gaul. They buy their slaves second-hand. Several of them have already arrived here, and have commenced making their purchases." "And they will take me far away?" "Yes, unless you are bought by one of those old Roman officers, who, too much disabled to follow a life of war, wish to found military colonies here, in accordance with the orders of Caesar." "And thus rob us of our lands!" "Of course. I hope to get out of you twenty-five or thirty gold sous, at least, and more if you are of an occupation easy to dispose of, such as a blacksmith, carpenter, mason, goldsmith, or some other good trade. It is in order to find that out that I am questioning you, so as to write it in my bill of sale. So, let us see:" (and the "horse-dealer" took up his tablet and began writing with his stylus) "Your name? Bull. Race, Breton Gaul. I can see that at a glance. I am a connoisseur. I would not take a Breton for a Bourgignon, nor a Poitevin for an Auvergnat. I sold lots of Auvergnats last year, after the battle of Puy. Your age?" "Twenty-nine." "Age, twenty-nine," he wrote on his tablet. "Your occupation?" "Laborer." "Laborer," repeated the "horse-dealer" in a surprised and injured tone, scratching his ear with his stylus. "You are nothing but a laborer? You have no other profession?" "I am a soldier also." "Oh, a soldier. He who wears the iron collar has no more to do with lance or sword. So then," added the "horse-dealer," reading from his tablet with a sigh: "No. 7. Bull; race, Breton Gaul; of great strength and very great height; aged twenty-nine years; excellent laborer." Then he said: "Your character?" "My character?" "Yes, what is it? rebellious or docile? open or sly? violent or peaceable? gay or moody? The buyers always inquire as to the character of the slave they are buying, and although one may not be compelled to answer them, it is a bad business to deceive them. Let us see, friend Bull, what is your character? In your own interest, be truthful. The master who buys you will sooner or later know the truth, and will make you pay more dearly for your lie than I would." "Then write upon your tablet: 'The draft-bull loves servitude, cherishes slavery, and licks the hand that strikes him.'" "You are joking. The Gallic race love service? As well say that the eagle or the falcon loves his cage." "Then write that when his strength has come back, the Bull at the first chance will break his yoke, gore his master, and fly to the woods to live in freedom." "There is more truth in that. Those brutes of keepers who beat you told me that at the first touch of the lash you gave a terrible jump the length of your chain. But, you see, friend Bull, if I offer you to the purchasers with the dangerous account which you give, I shall find few customers. An honest merchant should not boast his merchandise too much, no more should he underestimate it. So I shall announce your character as follows." And he wrote: "Of a violent character, sulky, because of his not being accustomed to slavery, for he is still green; but he can be broken in by using at different times gentleness, severity and chastisement." "Go over it again." "Over what?" "The description I am to be sold under." "You are right, my son. We must make sure that the description sounds well to the ear. Imagine that I am the auctioneer, thus: "No. 7. Bull; race, Breton Gaul; of great strength and very great height; aged twenty-nine years; excellent laborer; of a violent character, sulky, because of his not being accustomed to slavery, for he is still green; but he can be broken in by application of gentleness, severity, and chastisement." "That is what is left of a free and proud man whose only crime is having defended his country against Caesar!" I cried bitterly. "And yet I did not kill that same Caesar, who has reduced our people to slavery and is now about to divide among his soldiers the lands of our fathers, I did not kill him when I was making off with him on my horse!" "You, my fine Bull, you took great Caesar prisoner?" asked the "horse-dealer" mockingly. "It's too bad I can't proclaim that at the auction. It would make a rare slave of you." I reproached myself for having uttered before that trafficker in human flesh words which resembled a regret or a complaint. Coming back to my first thought, which made me endure patiently the loquacity of the man, I said to him: "When you picked me up where I fell on the battlefield, did you see hard by a war chariot harnessed to four black bulls, with a woman and two children hanging from the pole?" "Did I see them? Did I see them!" exclaimed the "horse-dealer" with a mournful sigh. "Ah, what excellent goods lost! We counted in that chariot eleven young women and girls, all beautiful--oh, beautiful!--worth at least forty or fifty gold sous apiece--but dead. They had all killed themselves. They were no good to anyone." "And in the chariot were there no women nor children still alive?" "Women? No,--alas, no. Not one, to the great loss of the Roman soldiers and myself. But of children, there were, I believe, two or three who had survived the death which those fierce Gallic women, furious as lionesses, wished to inflict upon them." "And where are they?" I exclaimed, thinking of my son and daughter, who were, perhaps, among them, "where are those children? Answer! Answer!" "I told you, my Bull, that I buy only wounded persons; one of my fellows bought the lot of children, and also some other little ones, for they picked up some alive from the other chariots. But what does it matter to you whether or not there are children to sell?" "Because I had a son and a daughter in that chariot," I answered, my heart bursting. "And how old were they?" "The girl was eight, the boy nine." "And your wife?" "If none of those eleven women found in the chariot were living, my wife is dead." "Isn't that too bad--too bad! Your wife had already borne you two children; you four would have made a fine deal. Ah, what a lost treasure!" I repressed a gesture of impotent anger at the scoundrel, and answered: "Yes, they would have billed us as the Bull and the Heifer!" "Surely! And since Caesar is going to distribute much of your depopulated country among his veterans, those who have no reserve prisoners will be under the necessity of buying slaves to cultivate and re-people their parcels of land. You are of that strong rustic race, and consequently I have hopes of getting a good price for you from some new colonist." "Listen to me. I would rather know that my son and daughter were dead, like their mother, than have them saved to be slaves. Nevertheless, since there were found near the chariot some children who had survived--a thing that astonishes me, since the women of Gaul always strike with a firm and sure hand when it is a case of snatching their race from shame--it is possible that my children may be among those found. How can I find out?" "What good will finding out do you?" "I will at least have with me my two children." The "horse-dealer" began to laugh, shrugged his shoulders, and answered: "Then you didn't hear me? By Jupiter, I advise you not to be deaf--you would be returned to me. I told you that I neither bought nor sold children." "What does that matter to me?" "Among a hundred purchasers of slaves for farm-hands, there would not be ten so foolish as to buy a man and his two children, without their mother. So that to offer you for sale with two brats, if they are still living, would make me lose half your value by burdening your purchaser with two useless mouths. Do you catch on; thick-head? No, for you look at me with a ferocious and stupefied air. I repeat that if I had been obliged to buy the two children in one lot with you, or even if they had been given to me to boot, in the market, like old Pierce-Skin, my first care would have been to have put you up for sale without them. Do you understand at last, double and triple block that you are?" At last I did understand; heretofore I had not dreamed of such refinement of torture in slavery. To think that my two children, if alive, might be sold, I know not where, or to whom, and taken far from me! I had not thought it possible. My heart swelled with grief. So great was my suffering that I almost supplicated the "horse-dealer." I said to him: "You are deceiving me. What can my children do? Who would wish to buy such poor little things, so young? useless mouths--as you said yourself?" "Oh, those who carry on the trade in children have a separate and assured patronage, especially if the children are favored with pretty features. Are your young ones good-looking?" "Yes," I answered in spite of myself. Before me was the vision of the charming fair faces of my little Sylvest and Syomara, who looked as much alike as twins and whom I had embraced a moment before the battle of Vannes. "Oh yes, they were good-looking. They were like their mother, who was so beautiful--!" "If they had good looks, be easy, my fine Bull. They will be easy to dispose of. The dealers in children have for their especial patrons the decrepit and surfeited Roman Senators, who love fresh fruits. By the way, they have announced the near arrival of the patrician Trymalcion, a very rich and very noble man, an old and very capricious expert. He is traveling through the Roman colonies of southern Gaul, and is expected here, they say, on his galley which is as splendid as a palace. No doubt he would like to take back to Italy some graceful specimens of Gallic brats. If your children are pretty, their fate is assured, for the patrician Trymalcion is one of my partner's patrician customers."[19] At first I listened to the "horse-dealer," without catching his meaning. But I was presently seized with a vertigo of horror at the idea that my children, who might unfortunately have escaped the death which their far-sighted mother had intended for them, might be carried to Italy to fulfill such a monstrous destiny. I felt neither anger nor fury, but a grief so great, and a fear so terrible, that I kneeled on the straw, and in spite of my manacles, stretched my pleading hands toward the "horse-dealer." Not finding words to utter my feelings, I wept, kneeling. The "horse-dealer" looked at me in great surprise, and said: "Well, well! What is it, my fine Bull? What ails you?" "My children!" was all I could say, for sobs choked me. "My children! if they are living!" "Your children?" "What you said--the fate that awaits them--if they are sold to those men--" "How? Their fate causes you alarm?" "Hesus! Hesus!" I exclaimed, calling on the god in my lamentation. "It is horrible!" "Are you going crazy?" demanded the "horse-dealer." "And what is there so horrible in the fate which awaits your children? Ah, what barbarians you are in Gaul, indeed. But, know: there is no life easier nor more flowery than that of these little flute-players and dancers with which these rich old fellows amuse themselves. If you could see them, the little rogues, their foreheads crowned with roses, their flowery robes spangled with gold, their rich earrings adorning their heads. And the little girls, if you could see them with their tunics and--" I could contain myself no longer. A bloody mist passed before my eyes. Furiously and desperately I leapt on the vile fellow. But my chain again tightening sharply, I stumbled and fell back on the straw. I looked around me--not a stick nor a stone. Then, crazed with rage, I doubled upon my chain, and gnawed at it like a wild animal. "What a brute of a Gaul!" exclaimed the "horse-dealer," shrugging his shoulders, and keeping well out of reach. "There he is, roaring and jumping and grinding at his chain like a staked wolf, and all because he has been told that his children, if they are pretty, are to live in the midst of wealth, ease and pleasure! What would it have been, then, fool that you are, if they were ugly or deformed? Do you know to whom they would have been sold? They would have been sold to those rich lords, who are so curious to read the future in the palpitating entrails of children freshly slaughtered for divination."[20] "Oh, Hesus!" I cried, filled with hope at the thought, "let it be so with mine, despite their beauty! Oh, death for them! Only let them enter the other world in their innocence, and live near their chaste mother." I could no longer hold back my tears. "Friend Bull," began the "horse-dealer" in a dissatisfied tone, "I was not a bit mistaken in putting you down in my tablet as violent and hot-headed. But I fear lest you have a fault worse than these--I mean a tendency towards tears. I have seen sullen slaves melt away like the snows of winter under a spring sun, dry up like parchment, and cause great loss to their owners by their pitiful appearance. So, look out for yourself. There remain but fifteen days before the auction at which you are to be sold. It is a short while to restore you to your natural fleshiness, to give you a fresh and rested complexion, a sleek and supple skin, in short, all those signs of vigor and health which allure the experts, jealous of possessing a sound and robust slave. To obtain this result, I wish to spare nothing, neither good food, nor care, nor any of those little artifices known to us to make our merchandise show off to advantage. On your part you must second my efforts. But if, on the contrary, you do not get over your fits of anger, if you begin to weep, if you begin to make yourself miserable, to waste away, so to speak, vainly dreaming of your children, instead of affording me honor and profit by your good figure, as a good slave should who is jealous of his master's interests,--beware, friend Bull, beware! I am not a novice in my business. I have carried it on for many years and in many lands. I have subdued more intractable fellows than you. I have made Sardinians docile, and Sarmatians as gentle as lambs, so you can judge of my skill.[21] Therefore, believe me, do not expect yourself to cause me harm by pining away. I am very mild, very gentle. I am not at all fond of chastisements; often they leave marks which lower a slave's value. Nevertheless, if you oblige me to, you will make the acquaintance of the jail for recalcitrants. Consider that, friend Bull. It will soon be meal-time; the physician says that you can now be put upon a substantial diet. You will be brought boiled chicken, oatmeal wet with gravy of roast sheep, good bread, and some good wine and water. I shall know whether you have eaten with a good appetite and in a manner to recuperate your strength, instead of losing it in weeping. So then, eat; it is the only way of gaining my favor. Eat plenty, eat often--I'll see that you have it. You will never eat too much to please me, for you are far from being well-fed, and that's what you must be, well-fed, before fifteen days, the time of the auction. I leave you to these reflections; pray the gods that they improve you. If not--oh, if not, I weep for you, friend Bull." So saying the "horse-dealer" shut the heavy door of the room behind him, leaving me chained within. CHAPTER X. THE LAST CALL TO ARMS. But for my uncertainty concerning the fate of my children, immediately upon the "horse-dealer's" departure I would have killed myself by butting my head against the wall of my prison, or by refusing all nourishment. Many Gauls had thus escaped the doom of slavery. But I felt that I should not die before doing what I could to snatch them from the destiny which menaced them. I examined my room to see whether, my strength once restored, there was any chance for escape. Three sides of the room were solid wall, the other was a thick partition re-enforced with beams, between two of which opened the door which was always carefully bolted without. A bar of iron crossed the window, leaving an opening too narrow to give me passage. I examined my chain, and the rings, one of which was riveted to my leg, the other to one of the cross-bars of the bed. It was impossible for me to unchain myself, even at my greatest strength. I then thought of a plan, a trick, to put myself in the good graces of the "horse-dealer," so as to obtain from him information of my little Sylvest and Syomara. With that end in view, it would not do to repine, to appear sad or afraid of the lot reserved for the children. I feared I might not be able to carry out the role, for I came of a race unaccustomed to deceit and lying. The Gauls either triumphed or died. On the evening of that same day when, regaining consciousness, I had become aware of my slavery, I witnessed a spectacle of terrible grandeur. It raised my courage. I could no longer despair for the safety and liberty of Gaul. The night was about to fall, when I heard the tramping of several troops of cavalry arriving at a walk in the great public square of Vannes, which I could see from the narrow window of my prison. I looked out, and beheld the following scene. Two cohorts of Roman infantry, and one of cavalry, both in battle array, surrounded a vacant space, in the middle of which rose a large scaffold of timber. On the platform was a heavy block, such as is used for chopping meat on. Beside the block stood a Moor of gigantic stature and bronzed of color. His arms and legs were bare, his hair was bound with a scarlet band; he wore a coat and a pair of short trousers of tanned skin, splashed here and there with dark red; in his hand was an axe. In the distance sounded the long clarions of the Romans, playing a funeral march. The sound drew nearer. One of the cohorts that were drawn up on the square opened its ranks, forming a double row. Through this lane the clarioneers entered. They preceded a troop of steel-clad legionaries. After the troop came the prisoners taken in the Gallic army, tied two and two. Then came the women and children, also in bonds. More than two stone's throws separated me from these captives. At such a distance I could not distinguish their features, try as I might. Nevertheless, my little son and daughter might be among them. The prisoners, of all ages and sexes, closed in by the two rows of soldiers, were stationed at the foot of the platform. Still more troops marched into the square; after them, five and twenty captives were led in, in single file, but not chained. I recognized them by their free and haughty pace. They were the chiefs and elders of the town and tribe of Vannes, all white-haired fathers.[22] Among them, marching last, I distinguished two druids and a bard of the college of the forest of Karnak, marked, the first by their long white robes, the second by his tunic striped with purple. Then appeared more Roman infantry; finally, between two escorts of white-robed Numidian cavalry, Caesar, on horse-back, in the midst of his officers. I recognized the scourge of Gaul by his armor, which was the same he wore when, aided by my brother Mikael the armorer, I was carrying him off in full panoply on my horse. Oh, how at the sight of the man I cursed anew my stupid astonishment, that so unfortunately proved the safety of my country's butcher. Caesar drew rein a short distance from the platform, and made a sign with his hand. Immediately the twenty-five prisoners, the bard and druids passing last, mounted with calm tread the steps of the scaffold. One by one they placed their white heads on the block, and each one of the venerable heads, stricken off by the axe of the Moor, rolled at the feet of the bound captives. The bard and the two druids were the only ones left. The three rushed together in a final embrace, they raised their faces and their hands towards heaven, and intoned in a loud voice the song of Hena, the virgin of the isle of Sen, uttered at the hour of her voluntary sacrifice on the rocks of Karnak, that song which had been the signal for the rising of Brittany against the Romans: "Hesus, Hesus! By the blood which is about to flow, clemency for Gaul!" "Gauls, by the blood which is about to flow, victory to our arms!" And the bard added: "The Chief of the Hundred Valleys is safe. There is hope for our arms!" Thereupon all the Gallic captives, men, women, and children present at the execution, all together repeated the last words of the druids, acclaiming them with so powerful a voice that the air shook even in my prison. After that supreme chant, the three placed their sacred heads in turn upon the block, and went the same way as the elders of Vannes. As the bard's and the druids' heads rolled upon the scaffold, all the captives took up the war-cry of the druids--"Strike the Roman! Strike at the head!"--in a voice so fierce and menacing that the legionaries, lowering their lances, hurriedly surrounded the unarmed and chained prisoners in a circle of iron, bristling with lance heads. But that mighty voice of their brothers and sisters had reached the wounded men shut up in the slave-shed, and all, myself included, answered the refrain: "Strike the Roman! Strike! Strike at the head! Strike the Roman hard!" Thus ended the war in Brittany. Thus ended the call to arms made by the druids from the heights of the sacred rocks of the forest of Karnak, after the sacrifice of Hena--the call to arms that led to the battle of Vannes. But in my lonely cell I did not yet lose hope. Our native Gaul, although invaded on all sides, would still resist. The Chief of the Hundred Valleys, forced to leave Brittany, had gone to arouse the regions still unvanquished. CHAPTER XI. THE SLAVES' TOILET. Night fell, and with it my spirits, in my lonely prison. Hesus! Hesus! I was left to the torture, not alone of my thoughts about my sacred and beloved country, but also of my reflections concerning the misfortunes of my family. Alas, at every wound inflicted upon our country our families bleed. Forcibly resigned to my lot, I little by little regained my natural strength, encouraged each day by the hope of obtaining from the "horse-dealer" some intelligence of my children. I described them to him as accurately as possible. Every day his report was that among the captives seen there were none answering to my description, but that several merchants made a practice of hiding their choice slaves from all eyes until the day of the public sale. The dealer also informed me that the patrician Trymalcion, whose very name now made me shudder with horror, had arrived at Vannes in his galley. The evening before the sale, the dealer entered my room. It was, almost dark. He brought in the meal himself, and waited on me. He brought as an extra a flagon of old Gallic wine. "Friend Bull," said he, with his habitual joviality, "I am satisfied with you. Your skin is almost filled up. You have no more crazy spells of anger, and if you don't appear exceedingly joyous, at least I no longer find you sad and tearful. We will drink this flagon together, to your happy placing with a good master, and to the gain which I shall get by you." "No," I answered, "I shall not drink." "And why not?" "Servitude sours wine, especially the wine of the country where one was born." "You respond ill to my kindness. You do not wish to drink? Suit yourself. I would have liked to empty one cup to your happy placing, and a second to your reunion with your children. I have my reasons for the latter." "What say you!" I cried aloud, filled with hope and anguish. "You know something about them?" "I know nothing about them," he answered curtly, rising to go out. "You refuse my friendly advance. You have supped well--now sleep well." "But what do you know of my children? Speak, I beg you, speak!" "Wine alone loosens my tongue, friend Bull, and I am not one of those men who loves to drink by himself. You are too proud to empty a cup with your master. Sleep well till to-morrow, the day of the auction." He took another step toward the door. I feared that by refusing to yield to the man's fancy I would anger him, and above all lose the chance of obtaining news of my beloved children. "Do you really wish it?" I said. "Then I shall drink, and especially shall I drink to the hope of soon meeting my son and daughter." "You pray well," answered the "horse-dealer" approaching his chattel, but keeping the chain's length away; then he poured me a full cup of wine, and another for himself. I later recollected that the man had held the cup a long time to his lips, but without my being able to see whether he drank or not. "Come," he added. "Come, let us drink to the good gain I shall make on you!" "Yes, let us drink to the hope of meeting my children." I emptied my cup. The wine seemed excellent. "I made you a promise," began the dealer, "I shall keep my promise. You told me that the chariot which held your family on the day of the battle of Vannes was harnessed to four black oxen?" "Yes." "Four black oxen, with a little white mark in the middle of their foreheads?" "Yes, all four were brothers, and alike," I answered, unable to repress a sigh at the thought of that fine yoke, raised on our own meadows, which my father and mother had always admired. "Those oxen carried on their necks leathern collars trimmed with little brass bells like this one?" continued the "horse-dealer," fumbling in his pocket, out of which he drew a little brass bell that he held up before me. I recognized it. It had been made by my brother Mikael, the armorer, and bore the mark with which he stamped all the articles of his fashioning. "This bell comes from our oxen," I answered. "Will you give it to me? It has no value." "What," asked the dealer, laughing, "do you want to hang bells at your neck too, friend Bull? It is your right. Here, take it. I brought it only to know from you if the yoke it came from was of your family's chariot." "Yes," I replied, putting the bell into my breeches pocket, as, perhaps, the only reminder of the past which might be left to me. "Yes, that yoke was ours. But it seems to me that I saw two of the oxen fall wounded in the fight." "You are not mistaken. Two of the oxen were killed in the battle. The other two, though slightly wounded, are alive, and were bought by one of my companions, who also bought three children left in the chariot. Two of them, a little boy and a little girl of about eight or nine, still had the cord around their necks. But my companion who found them was luckily able to bring them back to life." "Where is that merchant?" I asked, in a tremble. "Here, at Vannes. You will see him to-morrow. We drew lots for our places at the auction, our stands are opposite to each other. If the children he is to sell are yours, you will be near them." "Shall I be really close?" "You will be as close to them as twice the length of your room. But why do you press your hands to your forehead?" "I don't know. It is a long time since I have drunk wine. The glow of what you poured out to me has gone to my head--a few seconds ago--I feel giddy." "That proves, friend Bull, that my wine is generous," answered the "horse-dealer" with a strange smile, and stepping out, he called to one of the keepers. Presently he returned with a chest under his arm. He carefully shut the door, and hung a piece of curtain before the window, to prevent anyone looking from without into the room, which was now lighted by a lamp. That done, he again passed his eyes very attentively over me, without saying a word, all the while opening his chest, from which he took several flasks, sponges, a little silver vase with a long curved tube, and also several instruments, one of which seemed very keen. I watched my master closely, feeling an inexplicable numbness gradually creeping over me. My heavy eye-lids fell once or twice in spite of myself. I had been seated on my bed of straw, to which I was still chained; but now I was compelled to lean my head against the wall, so heavy had it grown. Noticing the effect of the wine upon me, the "horse-dealer" said: "Friend Bull, do not be disturbed at what is happening to you." "What--" I answered, trying to shake off my stupor, "What is happening to me?" "You feel a sort of half-drowse creeping over you in spite of your resistance." "True." "You hear me, you see me, but as if your ears and eyes were covered with a veil." "It is true," I murmured, for my voice also was growing weak, and without experiencing any pain, my whole life seemed to be little by little ebbing out. Nevertheless, I made an effort, and said to the man: "Why am I in this condition!" "Because I have prepared you for the slaves' toilet." "A toilet?" "I possess, friend Bull, certain magic philters to increase the attractiveness of my merchandise. Although you are now quite well filled out, the deprivation of exercise and the open air, the fever which your wounds caused, the sadness which captivity always occasions, and many other things, have dried and dulled your skin, and turned you yellow. But thanks to my philters, to-morrow morning you will have a skin as fresh and sleek, and a color as ruddy as if you were coming in from the fields some lovely spring morning, my fine rustic. That appearance will last barely a day or two, but I expect, by Jupiter, to have you sold by to-morrow evening, free to turn yellow and waste away under your new master. So I am going to commence by stripping you, and anointing you with this preparation of oil." The "horse-dealer" unlocked one of his flasks.[23] The performance affected me as so deep a disgrace put upon my dignity, that in spite of the numbness which was more and more depressing me, I sprang to my feet, and shaking my hands and arms, then unshackled, cried out: "To-day I have no manacles on. If you come near I will strangle you!" "I foresaw all that, friend Bull," chuckled the "horse-dealer," calmly pouring the oil of his flask into a vase and soaking a sponge in it. "I knew you would get hot and resist. I might have had you bound by the keepers, but in your violence you would have bruised your limbs, a detestable sign for the sale. These bruises always denote a stubborn slave. And all the time, what cries you would have let out! What a rebellion, when your head had to be shaved, in token of your slavery!" At this last insulting threat, I called up all my remaining strength. I arose, and threateningly cried out at the dealer: "By Ritha-Gaur, the saint of the Gauls, who made himself a shirt of the beards of the kings he had shaved, if you dare to touch a single hair of my head, I'll kill you!"[24] "Oh, oh! Reassure yourself, friend Bull," answered the "horse-dealer," pointing to his little sharp instrument. "Reassure yourself. I shall not cut a single one of your hairs--but all." I could retain my standing position no longer. Swaying on my legs like a drunken man, I fell back on the straw, and heard the "horse-dealer" burst out laughing, and, while still pointing at his steel instrument, say: "Thanks to this, your forehead will soon be as bald as that of the great Caesar, whom, you say, you carried on your horse in full armor. And the magic philter which you drank in that Gallic wine will put you at my mercy, quiet as a corpse." The "horse-dealer" spoke true. These words were the last I remember. A leaden torpor fell upon me, and I lost all knowledge of what was done with me. CHAPTER XII. SOLD INTO BONDAGE. The experience of that evening was only the prelude for a horrid day, a day doubly horrid due to the mystery that surrounded it. Aye, to this hour, when I write this for you, O my son Sylvest, to the end that from this truthful and detailed account, in which I recite to you one by one the torments and the indignities heaped upon our country and our race, you may contract a hate implacable for the Romans, while awaiting the day of vengeance and deliverance;--aye, to this hour the mysteries of that horrid day of sale are still impenetrable to me, unless they be explained by the sorceries of the "horse-dealer," many of his people being given to magic. But our venerable druids affirm that magic does not exist. The day of the auction I was roused from my stupor by my master. I had slept profoundly. I remembered what had occurred the previous evening. My first movement was to carry my hands to my head. It was shaved, and my beard also! A thrill of anguish shot through me at the discovery; but instead of flying into a rage, as I would have done the evening before, I only shed a few tears, fearfully regarding the "horse-dealer." Aye, I cried before that man--aye, I looked at him with fear. What could have come over me during the night? Was I still under the influence of the philter poured into the wine? No, my torpor had gone. I found myself active of body, and in sound mind, but in character and heart I found myself softened, enervated, timid,--and, why not say the word?--cowardly! Aye, cowardly! I, Guilhern, son of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak. I looked timidly around me. Every minute my heart seemed to sink, and tears came to my eyes, as formerly the flush of anger and pride had mantled my forehead. Of this inexplicable transformation, due, perhaps, to sorcery, I was dimly conscious and wondered thereat. Down to this day, when I recall the incident, I wonder, and none of the details of the horrid day has escaped from my memory. The "horse-dealer" observed me in silence with an air of triumph. He had left me my breeches only. I was stripped to the waist. I was seated on my bed of straw. The dealer addressed me: "Get up!" said he. I hastened to obey. My master drew from his pocket a steel mirror, handed it to me, and resumed: "Look at yourself!" I looked at myself. Thanks to the witch-craft of my master, my cheeks were red, my face clear, as if awful misfortune had not settled upon me and my family. Nevertheless, on seeing for the first time in the mirror my face and head completely shaved, as the badge of my bondage, I shed fresh tears, but tried to hide them from the "horse-dealer," for fear of annoying him. He replaced the mirror in his pocket, took from the table a braided wreath of beech leaves,[25] and said: "Put your head down." I obeyed. The dealer put the wreath on my head. Then he took a parchment on which were written several lines in large Roman characters, and hung the inscription on my chest by means of two strings which he tied behind my neck. Over my shoulders he threw a woolen covering. Then he opened the secret spring which held my chain to the end of the bed, and fastened it to another iron ring which had been riveted on my other ankle during my heavy sleep. This way, although chained by both legs, I could still walk with short steps. Finally, my hands were bound behind me. Obedient to the "horse-dealer's" orders, whom I followed as quiet and submissive as a dog does his master, I descended the stairs which led from my cell to the shed. The descent was affected not without pain to my limbs owing to the shortness of the chain. In the shed I found several captives, among whom I had passed my first night, lying upon straw. No doubt their recovery was far enough advanced to admit of their being put up for sale. Other slaves whose heads had likewise been shaved, either by trick or by force, also wore wreaths on their foreheads, inscriptions on their breasts, handcuffs on their hands and heavy shackles on their feet. They had started, under the supervision of armed keepers, to defile by a door which opened on the town square. It was there the auction sale was to be held. Nearly all the captives seemed to me to be mournful, depressed and submissive like myself. They lowered their eyes like men ashamed to look at one another. Among the last, I recognized two or three men of my own tribe. One of them passed close to me, and said in a low voice: "Guilhern, we are shaven; but hair will grow again, and nails also." I comprehended that the Gaul wished to give me to understand that some day would come the hour of vengeance. But in the great cowardice which paralyzed me since my awakening, such was my fear of the "horse-dealer" that I pretended not to understand my countryman.[26] The space engaged by the "horse-dealer" for the auction was not a great way from the shed where we had been kept prisoners. We speedily arrived at a sort of booth or stall, surrounded on three sides by planks, covered with canvas, and with the floor strewn with straw. Other booths, similar to it, were arranged to the right and left of a long space like a street. In this space Roman officers and soldiery walked in crowds, together with the buyers and sellers of slaves and various other men who follow in the wake of armies. They looked at the captives chained in the booths with a jeering and insulting curiosity. My master had informed me that his stall in the market was directly opposite that of his companion in whose possession were the two children. A cloth was lowered over the opening. I only heard, a few moments later, imprecations and piercing shrieks, mingled with mournful moans, from women, who were crying in Gallic: "Death, death, but not disgrace!" "Those timorous fools are playing the vestals, because they are stripped naked to be shown to the customers," said the "horse-dealer," who had kept near me. Presently he took me to the rear of the booth. On the way I counted nine captives, some in their youth, others middle-aged, and only two were past their prime. Some were seated on the straw, their faces turned down to escape the looks of the curious, others were lying prone, their faces to the ground; a few stood erect casting fierce glances around them. The keepers, their scourges in their hands, their swords at their sides, kept watch. The "horse-dealer" pointed to a wooden cage, a sort of large box at the back of the booth, and said to me: "Friend Bull, you are the pearl, the carbuncle of my assortment. Enter this cage. The comparisons which would be made between you and my other slaves would lower their value too much. As a thrifty merchant, I will try to sell first what is of least value. One sells the small fry before the big fish."[27] I obeyed. I went into the cage, and the door was closed upon me. I found that I could stand up. An opening through the top permitted me to breathe without being seen from the outside. Just then a bell sounded. It was the signal for the sale. On all sides arose the squeaky voices of the auctioneers announcing the bids of the purchasers of human flesh. The merchants bragged their slaves in the Roman tongue, and invited the purchaser into their booths. Several customers entered to inspect the "horse-dealer's" stock. Without understanding the words that he spoke, I guessed by the inflections of his voice that he strove to capture them, while the auctioneer all the while called out the bids. From time to time a loud tumult arose in the booth, mingled with the sound of the keepers' lashes, and the curses of the dealer. Evidently they were scourging some of my companions in slavery who refused to follow the new master to whom they had been "knocked down." But speedily the clamor ceased, choked off by the gag. Other times I heard the trampings of a confused struggle, desperate, though muffled. These struggles also came to an end under the efforts of the keepers. I was frightened at the courage displayed by the captives. I no longer understood resistance or boldness. I was plunged into my cowardly sluggishness. All at once the door of my cage opened, and the "horse-dealer" cried out in great glee: "All sold, save you, my pearl, my carbuncle. And by Mercury, to whom I promise an offering in recognition of my day's profits, I believe I have found for you a purchaser by private contract." My master made me step out of my cage; I traversed the booth, in which I saw not a single slave left. I found myself face to face with a gray haired man, of a cold, hard countenance. He wore the military dress, limped very badly, and supported himself on a vine-wood cane, which was the mark of the centurion rank in the Roman army. The dealer lifted from my shoulders the woolen covering in which I was wrapped, and left me stripped to the waist; he then made me get out of my breeches also. My master, with the air of a man proud of his merchandise, thus exposed my nakedness to the customer. Several of the curious, assembled outside of the stall, looked in and contemplated me. I dropped my eyes in shame and sorrow, not in anger. After the prospective purchaser read the writing which hung from my neck, he looked me over carefully, answering with affirmative nods of the head to what the merchant, with his usual volubility, was saying to him in Latin. Often he stopped to measure, with his spread out fingers, the size of my chest, the thickness of my arms, or the width of my shoulders. His first examination must have pleased the centurion, for my master said to me: "Be proud for your master, friend Bull, your build is found faultless. 'See'--I just said to the customer--'would not the Grecian sculptors have taken this superb slave as a model for a Hercules?' My customer agreed with me. Now you must show him that your strength and agility are not inferior to your appearance." My master pointed to a lead weight in readiness for the trial, and said to me while loosening my arms: "Now put on your breeches again, then take this weight in your two hands, lift it over your head, and hold it there as long as you can." I was about, in my stupid docility, to do as I was bid, when the centurion stooped towards the weight, and attempted to lift it from the ground, which he did, with much difficulty, while my master said to me: "This mischievous cripple is as foxy as myself. He knows that many dealers use hollow weights which appear to weigh two or three times as much as they actually do. Come, friend Bull, show this suspicious fellow that you are as powerful as you are well built." My strength was not yet entirely returned. Nevertheless, I took the heavy weight in my hands, throwing it over my head, and balanced it there a moment. A vague idea flitted at that instant across my mind to let the weight fall on my master's skull, and thus crush him at my feet. But that gleam of my bygone courage died out, and I dropped the weight on the ground. The lame Roman seemed satisfied. "Better and better, friend Bull," said my master to me, "by Hercules, your patron god, never did a slave do more honor to his owner. Your strength is demonstrated. Now let us witness your agility. Two keepers will hold this wooden bar about half a yard from the ground. Although your feet are in chains, you will jump over the bar several times. Nothing will better prove the strength and nimbleness of your muscles." In spite of my recent wounds, and the weight of my chain, I leaped several times with my joined feet over the bar, to the increasing satisfaction of the centurion.[28] "Better and better," repeated my master. "You are proven as strong as you are powerfully built, and as limber as both. It now remains to exhibit the inoffensive gentleness of your nature. As to this last proof, I am, in advance, certain of your success," saying which he again bound my hands behind my back. At first I did not understand what the dealer meant. But he took a scourge from the hand of a keeper, and pointing with its handle to me, spoke to the purchaser in a low voice. The latter made a gesture of assent, and my master passed the scourge over to the centurion. "The old fox, still suspicious, fears that I would not strike you hard enough, friend Bull," my master explained to me. "Come, do not make a slip. Do me this last honor, and gain me this last profit, by showing that you endure chastisement patiently." Hardly had he pronounced the words, when the cripple rained a shower of blows on my shoulders and chest. I felt neither shame nor indignation, only pain. I fell down on my knees in tears and begged for mercy. Outside, the curious crowd, gathered at the door, roared with laughter. The centurion, surprised at so much resignation in a Gaul, dropped the whip, and looked at my master who by his gesture seemed to say: "Did I deceive you?" Thereupon, patting me with the flat of his hand on my lacerated back, the same as one would pat an animal that pleased him, my master said to me: "If you are a bull for strength, you are a lamb for meekness. I expected so. Now some questions as to your laborer's trade, and the sale is concluded. The customer wishes to know in what place you were employed." "In the tribe of Karnak," I answered, with a cowardly sigh, "there my family and I cultivated the lands of our fathers." The "horse-dealer" reported my answer to the cripple, who seemed both surprised and pleased. He exchanged a few words with the dealer, who continued: "The customer asks where the lands and house of your fathers were situated." "Not far to the east of the rocks of Karnak, on the heights of Craig'h." At this answer the Roman was so pleased that he seemed hardly to believe what he heard, and the "horse-dealer" turned to me: "That cripple beats all for distrustfulness. To be certain that I do not deceive him, and that I have translated your words faithfully to him, he demands that you trace before him on the sand, the position of the lands and house of your family with reference to the rocks of Karnak and the sea-shore. Unfortunately I don't know his reasons, for if it were a convenience to him, I would make him pay for it. But do as he bids you." My hands were once more loosed. I took the handle of a lash from one of the keepers, and traced with it on the sand, followed by the eager eyes of the centurion, the location of the rocks of Karnak and the coast of Craig'h, and then the place of our dwelling to the east of Karnak. The cripple clapped his hands for joy. He drew from his pocket a long purse, took out a certain number of gold pieces, and offered them to the "horse-dealer." After a long chaffer, seller and buyer finally reached an agreement. "By Mercury," said the dealer to me; "I have sold you for thirty-eight sous of gold, one-half cash as a deposit, the other half at the close of the market, when the lame fellow will come to fetch you. Was I wrong when I called you the carbuncle of my stock?" After exchanging a few words with the centurion, he turned to me: "Your new master--and I can understand it, seeing he has paid so good a price for you--your new master is of the opinion that you are not chained securely enough. He wants clogs fastened to your chain. He will come for you in a chariot." In addition to my chain, I was loaded down with two heavy clogs of iron, which would have prevented me from moving except by leaping with both feet; even if I could lift so heavy a weight. My manacles were carefully inspected and locked on my wrists, and I sat down in a corner of the stall while the dealer counted and recounted his gold. CHAPTER XIII. THE BOOTH ACROSS THE WAY. While I sat in my former master's stall awaiting the arrival of my new purchaser to take me away, the cloth that covered the entrance of the opposite stall was raised. On one side were three beautiful young women, the same, I doubted not, who a little before had filled the air with groans and supplications while their clothes were being torn off them, in order to exhibit their charms to purchasers. They were still half nude, their feet bare, plastered with chalk[29] and fastened by rings to a long iron bar. Huddled close together, these three held one another in such close embrace that two of them, still crushed down with shame, hid their faces in the bosom of the third. The latter, pale and somber, hung her head, letting her disheveled black hair fall before her bruised and naked breast--bruised no doubt in the vain struggle against the keepers who disrobed her. A short distance from them, two little children, three or four years old, bound around their waists merely by a light cord fastened to a stake, laughed and played in the straw with the heedlessness common to their age. The children evidently did not belong to either of the three women. At the other side of the stall I saw a matron of the noble carriage of my mother Margarid. Manacles were on her wrists, shackles on her ankles. She was standing, leaning against a beam to which she was chained by the waist. She stood still as a statue; her grey hair disordered, her eyes fixed, her face livid and fearful. Time and again she gave vent to a burst of threatening and crazy laughter. Finally, at the rear of the stall, was a cage resembling the one which I myself had occupied. In that cage, if what the "horse-dealer" said was true, would be my two children. Tears filled my eyes. In spite of my weakness, the thought of my children, so close to me, caused a flush of warmth to rise to my face--a symptom of my returning powers. And now, Sylvest, my son, you for whom I write this report, read slowly what is now about to follow. Aye, read slowly, to the end that every word may imbue your soul with its indelible hatred for the Romans--a hatred that I feel certain must some day, the day of vengeance, break out with terrific force. Read, my son, and you will understand how your mother, after having given life to you and your sister, after having heaped all her tenderness upon you, could in the end give you no stronger proof of her maternal love than by endeavoring to kill you, to the end that she might carry you hence, to return to life in the other world at her side and in the circle of our family. Alas! You survived her foresight! This, my son, is what happened! I had my eyes fixed on the cage in which I surmised you and your sister were imprisoned, when I saw an old man, richly dressed, enter the stall. It was the rich patrician Trymalcion, worn out as much by debauchery as by years. His dull, cold, corpse-like eyes seemed to look into vacancy. His hideously wrinkled visage was half hidden under a coat of thick paint. He wore a frizzled yellow wig, earrings blazing with precious stones, and in the girdle of his robe a large bouquet, of which his red plush mantle off and on allowed a glimpse.[30] He painfully dragged his limbs after him, leaning on the shoulders of two young slaves fifteen or sixteen years of age, who were luxuriously dressed, but in such a style, and so effeminately, that it was impossible to tell whether they were young men or girls. Two other and older slaves followed. One carried under his arm his master's thick cloak, the other a golden night-vessel.[31] The proprietor of the stall hastened to receive his patrician customer with tokens of reverence, exchanged a few words with him, and then moved forward a stool on which the old man let himself down. As the seat had no back, one of the young slaves immediately stationed himself motionless behind his master, to serve him as a support, while the other slave lay down on the ground at a sign from the patrician, lifted his feet, which were encased in rich sandals, and wrapping them in a fold of his own robe, held them to his breast to warm them.[32] Thus supported with his back and feet on the bodies of his slaves, the old man spoke some words to the merchant. The latter first pointed toward the three half-naked women. At sight of them, Trymalcion turned half way round and spat at them, as if to evince the most sovereign disdain. At this indignity, the old man's slaves and the Romans, assembled in the vicinity of the stall, broke into coarse laughter. Then the merchant pointed out to lord Trymalcion the two children playing on the straw. The senile debauchee shrugged his shoulders, while he uttered some horrible words. His words must have been horrible, because the laughter redoubled. The merchant, hoping at last to please so fastidious a customer, went up to the cage, opened it, and brought out three children, draped in long white veils which hid their faces. Two of the children corresponded in height to my son and daughter; the other was smaller. The smallest one was the first to be unveiled to the eyes of the old man. I recognized her as the daughter of one of my relatives, whose husband was killed in the defense of the chariot; the mother had killed herself with the other women of the family, forgetting in that supreme moment, to kill the little one. The girl was sickly and without beauty. Patrician Trymalcion looked her over rapidly and made an impatient gesture with his hand, as if annoyed that they should dare to offer to his sight so unattractive an object. She was, accordingly, taken back to the cage by a keeper. The other two children remained, still veiled. I was eagerly watching these events from the corner of the "horse-dealer's" stall, my arms pinioned behind my back with double iron manacles, my legs chained and my feet fastened by fetters of enormous weight. I still felt under the influence of the sorcery that had been practiced upon me. Nevertheless, my blood, so long frozen in my veins, began to circulate more and more freely. A slight tremor occasionally went through my limbs. The spell was breaking. I was not the only one to tremble. The young Gallic women and the matron, forgetting their own shame and despair, experienced in their hearts of maid, of wife, or mother, a frightful horror at the fate of the children offered to that detestable old man. Although half nude, they no longer thought of withdrawing themselves from the licentious looks of the spectators who were crowding at the entrance to the booth. Their eyes brooded with motherly terror upon the two veiled children, while the matron, bound to the post, her eyes glittering and her teeth set in impotent fury, raised her chained arms to heaven as if to call down the punishments of the gods upon such monstrosities. At a sign from lord Trymalcion, the veils dropped--I recognized you both--you, my son Sylvest and your sister Syomara. You were both pale and wan; you were shivering with fear. Anguish was depicted in your tear-bathed faces. The long blonde hair of my little girl fell upon her shoulders. She dared not raise her eyes, neither did you; you held each other by the hand, closely clasped. Despite the terror that disfigured her face, I beheld my daughter in her singular and infantine beauty--accursed beauty! At sight of her Trymalcion's dead eyes lighted up and glistened like glowing coals in the middle of his wrinkled, paint-covered visage. He stood up, stretched out his emaciated arms towards my daughter as if to seize his prey, while a shocking smile disclosed his yellow teeth. Terror-stricken, Syomara threw herself back and clung to your neck. The merchant quickly tore you from each other and brought Syomara to the old man. The latter impatiently pushed away with his foot the slave that crouched on the ground before him, and grabbing my little girl, took her between his knees. He easily subdued the efforts she made to escape, while she uttered piercing cries; he violently snapped the strings that fastened my little girl's robe, and stripped her half naked in order to examine her chest and shoulders. While this was going on, the merchant was holding you back, my son, and I--the father of the two victims--I, loaded with chains, beheld the spectacle. At the sight of this crime of the patrician Trymalcion, outraging the chastity of a child, the three fettered Gallic women and the matron made a desperate but vain effort to break from their irons, and began to pour out a torrent of imprecations and groans. Trymalcion finished complacently his disgusting examination, and said a few words to the merchant. Immediately a keeper replaced the robe on my girl, who was more dead than alive, wrapped her up in her long white veil, which he tied around her, and taking the slender burden under his arm, held himself in readiness to follow the old man, who was taking some gold from his purse to pay the merchant. At that moment of supreme despair--you and your sister, poor little ones bewildered with terror, cried out as if you believed you would be heard and succored: "Mother! Father!" Up to that moment I had witnessed the scene panting, almost crazy with grief and rage. Slowly my heart, struggling against the sorcery of the "horse-dealer," was gaining the upper hand. But at that cry, uttered by you and your sister, the charm broke with a clap. All my intelligence, all my courage rushed back to me. The sight of you two gave me such a shock, it threw me into such a transport of rage that, unable to break my irons, I rose upon my feet, and, with my hands still pinioned behind me, my legs still loaded with heavy chains, I bounded out of my stall with two leaps, and fell like a thunderbolt upon the old patrician. The shock caused the old man to roll under me. In default of the liberty of my hands to strangle him, I bit him in the face, near the neck. The "horse-dealers" and their keepers threw themselves upon me; but bearing with all my weight upon the hideous old debauchee, who was howling at the top of his voice, I kept my teeth in his flesh. The monster's blood filled my mouth--a shower of whip lashes and blows from sticks and stones rained upon me--yet I budged not. No more than our old war dog Deber-Trud the man-eater did I drop my prey.--No!--Like the dog, when I did let go, it was only to carry away between my teeth--a strip of flesh, a bleeding mouthful that I spat back into Trymalcion's hideous, tortured face, as he had spat at the Gallic women. "Father! Father!" you cried out to me through the tumult. Wishing then to approach you two, my children, I stood up, an object of terror--aye, terror. For a moment a circle of fear surrounded the Gallic slave, with his load of irons. "Father! Father!" you cried again, stretching out your little arms, in spite of the keepers who held you back. I made a bound toward you, but the merchant, from the top of the cage where you had been confined, suddenly threw a large piece of cloth over my head. At the same time I was seized by the legs, thrown down, and tied with a thousand bonds. The cloth, which covered my head and shoulders, was tied down around my neck, and through it they made a gap, which unfortunately permitted me to breathe--I had hoped to smother. I felt myself being carried across to my own booth, where I was thrown on the straw, incapable of making the slightest motion. Quite a while later I heard the centurion, my new master, in a sharp altercation with the "horse-dealer" and the merchant who had sold Syomara to Trymalcion. Presently they all went out. Silence reigned around me. Some time later, the dealer returned; he approached me; he kicked me angrily; he tore off the cover from my face, and said to me in a voice trembling with rage: "Scoundrel! Do you know what it has cost me, that mouthful of flesh you tore out of the face of the noble Trymalcion? Do you know, ferocious beast? That mouthful of flesh cost me twenty sous of gold! More than half of what I sold you for, for I am responsible for your misdeeds, wretch! while you are in my stall, double villain! So that it is I who have made a present of your daughter to the old man. She was sold to him for twenty gold sous, which I paid in his stead. He insisted upon it. And even so I got off cheaply. He demanded that indemnity."[33] "That monster is not dead! Hena! he is not dead!" I cried in despair. "And my daughter is not dead either! Hesus, Teutates, take pity on my daughter!" "Your daughter, gallows bird! Your daughter is in Trymalcion's hands, and it is upon her he will wreak his revenge on you. He rejoices over the circumstance in advance. He sometimes is taken with savage caprices, and is rich enough to indulge them." I was unable to make answer to these words, save with long drawn out moans. "And that is not all, infamous scoundrel! I have lost the confidence of the centurion to whom I sold you. He reproached me with having outrageously deceived him; with having sold him, instead of a lamb, a tiger who exercised his teeth upon rich patricians. He wanted to sell you right back. To sell you back, as if anyone would consent to buy--after such an exhibition! As well buy a wild beast. Luckily for me, I received the deposit before witnesses. The fierceness of your nature will not set aside the contract; the centurion has no choice but to keep you. He'll keep you, I warrant, but he'll make you pay dear for your criminal instincts. Oh, you don't know the life that awaits you in the _ergastula_! You don't know--" "But my son," I asked, interrupting the "horse-dealer," well knowing that he would answer out of cruelty. "Is my son also sold? To whom?" "Sold? And who do you think would still want him? Sold? Better say given away. You bring bad luck to everybody, double traitor. Did not your ragings and the shrieks of that mis-born limb teach everyone that he is of your beastly blood? No one offered even an obole for him! Who would buy a wolf's whelp? Anyway, I was going to speak to you about that son of yours, to delight your father's heart. Know that he was given to boot by my partner at the end of the sale, to the same purchaser to whom he sold the grey-haired matron, who will be good to turn a mill-wheel." "And that purchaser," I enquired, "who is he? What is he going to do with my son?" "That purchaser is the centurion--your master!" "Hesus!" I exclaimed, hardly able to believe what I heard. "Hesus, you are kind and merciful. At least I shall have my son near me." "Your son near you! Then you are as stupid as you are scoundrelly. Ah, do you imagine that it is for your paternal contentment that your master has burdened himself with that wolf-cub? Do you know what your master said to me? 'I have only one means of subduing that savage beast you sold me, you egregious cheat.--The chances are, that madman loves his little one. I'll keep the wolf-whelp in a cage, and the son will answer to me for the father's docility.--At the father's first, and least offence, he will see the tortures which he will make his cub suffer, under my very eyes.'" I paid no further attention to what the "horse-dealer" said--I was at least sure of seeing you, or of knowing that you were near me, my child. That will help me to bear the awful grief caused to me by the fate of my little daughter Syomara, who, two days later, was carried into Italy on board the galley of the patrician Trymalcion. * * * * * My father Guilhern was not granted time to finish his narrative. Death--oh, what a death!--death overtook him the very day after he traced the above last lines. I preserve them together with the little brass bell that my father got from the "horse-dealer." The narrative of the sufferings of our race, I, Sylvest, shall continue in obedience to my father Guilhern, the same as he obeyed the behest of his father Joel the brenn of the tribe of Karnak. Hesus was merciful to you, O, my father.--You died ignorant of the life of your daughter Syomara-- It is left to me to narrate my sister's fate. THE END. FOOTNOTES: [1] A short distance from the town of St. Nazaire, which is still in existence. [2] The patriotism of the Russians in burning Moscow in order to starve and drive out Napoleon's army is justly admired. But how much more admirable was the heroic patriotism of these old Gauls! Not only Brittany, but almost a third of Gaul was delivered to the flames. See Caesar, _De Bello Gallico_, lib. VII, ch. XIV. Also Amedée Thierry, _History of the Gauls_, vol. III, p. 103: "The Chief of the Hundred Valleys was heard with calm and resignation. Not a murmur interrupted him, not an objection was raised against the heavy sacrifice which he demanded. It was with one voice that the heads of the tribes voted the ruin of their fortunes and the scattering of their families. This terrible remedy was at once applied to the country which they feared would be occupied by the enemy ... On every hand one perceived nothing but the fire and smoke of burning habitations. In the light of these flames, across the ruins and the ashes of their homes, an innumerable population wended their way towards the frontier, where shelter and food awaited them. Their sorrow and suffering was not without consolation, since it would lead to the safety of their country." [3] The shark. [4] A Gallic war cry, signifying "Strike at the head--down with them." [5] A troop composed of cavalry (_mahrek_) and footmen (_droad_). "A certain number of Gallic cavalrymen chose among the foot-soldiers an equal number of the most agile and courageous. Each of the latter attended a horseman, and followed him in battle. The cavalry fell back upon them if it was in danger, and the footmen ran up; if a wounded horseman fell from his charger, the foot-soldier succored and defended him. When it became necessary to make a rapid advance or retreat, exercise had made these foot-soldiers so agile that, hanging on by the manes of the horses, they kept up with the cavalry in its rapid movement."--Caesar, _De Bello Gallico_, book I, ch. XLVIII. [6] In this body of cavalry each horseman was followed by two equerries, mounted and equipped, who remained behind in the body of the army. When the battle was on, should the horseman be dismounted, the equerries gave him one of their horses. If then the horseman's horse was killed, or the horseman himself dangerously wounded, he was carried from the field by one of the equerries, while the other took his place in the ranks. This body of cavalry was called the _trimarkisia_, from two words which in the Gallic tongue signify "three horses."--Amedée Thierry, _History of the Gauls_, vol. I, p. 130. See also Pausanius, book X. [7] "The Gauls had also their Pindars and their Tyrteuses, bards exercising their talent to sing in heroic verse the deeds of great men, and to inculcate in the people the love of glory."--Latour d'Auvergne, _Gallic Origins_, p. 158. [8] "The Gauls hold that it is a disgrace to live subjugated, and that in all war there are but two outcomes for the man of courage--to conquer or to die."--Nicolas Damasc; see also Strabo, serm. XII. [9] "Caesar in his Commentaries, and after him the later historians, took the title of command held by this hero of Gaul for his proper name, and, by corruption, wrote _Vercingetorix_ in place of Ver-cinn-cedo-righ, Chief of the Hundred Valleys," observes Amedée Thierry (_History of the Gauls_, vol. III, p. 86). "Vercingetorix, a native of Auvergne, was the son of Celtil, who, guilty of conspiring against the freedom of his city, expiated on the pyre his ambition and his crime. The young Gaul thus became heir to the goods of his father, whose name he nevertheless blushed to bear. Having become the idol of his people, he traveled to Rome and saw Caesar, who attempted to win his good graces. But the Gaul rejected the friendship of his country's enemy. Returned to his native land he labored secretly to reawaken among his people the spirit of independence, and to raise up enemies against the Romans. When the hour to call the people to arms was come, he showed himself openly, in druid ceremonies, in political meetings; everywhere, in short, he was seen employing his eloquence, his fortune, his credit, in a word all his means of action upon the chiefs and on the multitude, to spur them on to reconquer the rights of old Gaul."--Thierry. [10] Here are Caesar's own words on this extraordinary event, taken from his _Ephemerides_, or diary, wherein with his own hand he was accustomed to enter day by day what of interest had occurred to him. These words are transmitted to us by Servius: "Caius Julius Caesar, cum dimicaret in Gallia, et ab hoste raptus, equo ejus portaretur armatus, occurrit quidam ex hostibus qui cum nosset et insultans ait: Ceco Caesar! quod in lingua Gallorum dimitte significat. Et ita factum est ut dimitteretur. "Hoc autem dicit ipse Caesar in Ephemeride sua ubi propriam commemorat felicitatem."--Ex Servio LXI. Aeneid, edit. Amstelod, type Elsevir, 1650, ex antiquo Vatic. Extemp. cap. VIII. "One can see by this passage," adds d'Auvergne, "that Caesar, having been released by the Gaul who had made him prisoner and who was carrying him off on his horse fully armed from the field of battle, believed the saving of his life to be due to the very word which was intended to be his death sentence: to the word _sko_, which Caesar wrote _ceco_, and which he falsely interpreted to mean _release_ when the word in Gallic in reality means _kill_, _strike_, _beat down_. Everything points to the conclusion that fear or stupefaction having seized the Gauls, in whose power Caesar completely was, at the mere mention of his name, he owed his safety to the sheer astonishment of his captor." [11] "During the fight, which lasted from the seventh hour until the evening, not a Gaul was seen turning his back (aversum hostem nemo videre potuit)."--Caesar, _De Bello Gallico_, ch. XXXVII. [12] "When the Romans drew near the chariots they came face to face with a new enemy, the war dogs. These were with difficulty exterminated by the archers."--Pliny, book LXXII, chap. C. [13] The total destruction of the Gallic fleet was the result of an extremely dangerous invention by the Romans, who, by means of scythes fastened to long poles, cut the stays which held the masts. These fell, and the Gallic vessels, deprived of sails and motion, were reduced to impotence. See Caesar, _De Bello Gallico_, book III, ch. XIV, XV. [14] See Pliny, Quintilian, Seneca, etc. Cited by Wallon in his _History of Slavery in Antiquity_, vol. II, p. 329. [15] About $100 or $120 in modern money. This was at the time the market price of a slave. (Wallon, _History of Slavery in Antiquity_, vol. II, p. 329.) [16] Slaves had no name of their own. They were given indiscriminately all sorts of soubriquets, even to the names of animals. (Givin, p. 339.) [17] It was the custom to throw in "for good measure," upon the purchase of a lot of slaves for labor or for pleasure, a few old men who were nothing but skin and bones. See Plautus, _Bachid._ IV, _Prospera_ IV; and _Terence_, _Eun._ Cited by Wallon, _History of Slavery in Antiquity_, vol. II. p. 56. [18] There were in the selling of slaves, as in the vending of animals established grounds entitling the purchaser to recover in full or in part his purchase price. Six months were allowed for causes of the first class to manifest themselves, a year for the latter. Deafness, dumbness, short-sightedness, tertiary or quaternary ague, gout, epilepsy, polyp, varicose veins, a breath indicating an internal malady, sterility among the women--such were the grounds accepted for complete abrogation of the contract. As to moral defects, nothing was said. Nevertheless, the merchant was not allowed to ascribe to a slave qualities he did not possess. One was bound above all to make known whether a slave possessed a tendency toward suicide. (Wallon, _History of Slavery in Antiquity_, vol. II, p. 63.) [19] We do not dare to expatiate on these monstrosities. We shall only cite the words of the lawyer Heterus: "Shamelessness is a crime in a free man--a duty in a freedman--and a necessity in a slave." For further details of the abominable and precocious depravity into which slaves and their children were dragged, see Wallon, _History of Slavery in Antiquity_, p. 266, following. [20] "Masters disemboweled their slaves, to search for prognostications in their entrails."--Wallon, vol. II, p. 251. [21] The characteristics of different nationalities of slaves had passed into bywords with the dealers. Thus they said "timid as a Phrygian," "vain as a Moor," "deceitful as a Cretan," "intractable as a Sardinian," "fierce as a Dalmatian," "gentle as an Ionian," etc., etc. (Wallon, vol. II, p. 65.) [22] Caesar wished to make a severe example. So "He put the Senate to death, and sold the rest at auction."--Caesar, _De Bello Gallico_, book III, ch. XVI. [23] See Wallon, vol. II, ch. III, for the singular means employed by the "horse-dealers" to rejuvenate their slaves. [24] The Gauls in the north and west of France attached so much importance and dignity to the length of their hair that the provinces they inhabited were called "Long-haired Gaul." (Latour d'Auvergne, Gallic Origins.) [25] When prisoners of war were sold as slaves, they were made to wear wreaths of the leaves of trees as a distinctive sign. (Wallon.) [26] "The magic philters of Media and Circe of old were nothing but pharmaceutical brews of an action as diversified as powerful. Several of these narcotic or exhilarators, which threw a man into an incredible moral prostration, or else into a fit of frenzy, were long employed among the Romans. The slave merchants used them to overcome and enervate their more unconquerable captives."--_Philosophic Dictionary_, p. 345. [27] "The higher priced slaves were kept in a sort of cage, which drew, by its air of mystery, the attention of the connoisseurs."--Wallon, vol. II, p. 54. [28] The slave was obliged to lift weights, to march, to leap, to prove his vigor and agility. (Wallon, vol. II, p. 59.) [29] The feet of women and children were daubed with white clay. (Wallon.) [30] See Petronius for details of Roman patrician "fashions." [31] For these shameful manners, which respect for humanity renders unpicturable, see Tacitus, Martial, Juvenal, and above all Petronius. [32] See above authors. [33] The master was civilly responsible for the acts of his slave, the same as for those of his dog. (Wallon, vol. II, p. 183.) 
21379	----	Marcus, The Young Centurion, by George Manville Fenn. ________________________________________________________________________ Marcus is eighteen, and his father had been a great Roman General, Cracis, who had fallen from grace some years before and was living quietly, farming in a small way in southern Italy. An old ex-soldier, Serge, works on the farm, and is helping to bring Marcus up. Marcus would like to be a soldier, and is encouraged in this by Serge, but his father has forbidden any discussion of the topic. One day a stranger comes to the door. This turns out to be none other than Caius Julius, later Caesar, who begs Marcus' father to join him in a war against the Gauls. He agrees, and goes, having made Marcus and Serge promise that they would not try to follow him. But they do, independently, and then meet accidentally. Serge was being attacked by bandits, and Marcus sees this happening and rushes to the rescue, so they are reunited, later to be joined also by the household dog, Lupe, who has tracked them across Italy. On reaching Rome they are just in time to join the last unit of the Roman army as it leaves for the war. They make their way across the mountains and into Gaul (France), where battles ensue, in which they distinguish themselves, and are brought to the notice of the Generals, whom they had rescued from personal disaster during the battle. So Marcus' military career is assured. ________________________________________________________________________ MARCUS, THE YOUNG CENTURION, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. CHAPTER ONE. FLIES AND BOYS. Hot as hot. Through the open window, where a couple of long shoots of one of the grapevines hung down, partially shading the room within, a broad, glowing ray of light, which made the shadows near look purply black, streamed right across the head of Marcus, a Roman lad of about eighteen, making his close, curly, brown hair glisten as if some of the threads were of gold, while the light twinkled on the tiny dew-like drops that stood out on the boy's brown forehead and by the sides of his slightly aquiline nose. The side of his head was down upon the table and his hands outspread upon either side; a wax-covered tablet had escaped from his left, and a pointed stylus, with which he had been making a line of characters upon the wax, had slipped from his right fingers, for he was sleeping like a top. All was wonderfully still in the Roman villa, and, from time to time, a slight puff of air which came cool from the mountains, but grew hot before it reached the house, sent one of the vine strands swinging to and fro like a pendulum, while the other, having secured itself to an outer shutter by one of its tendrils, remained motionless. The one that swung to and fro kept up its motion the more easily from the fact that it was weighted by a closely-set bunch of grapes of a pearly green on one side, but on the other, facing the sun, beginning to be tinged with a soft purple hue. Upon one of these berries a great fly, which seemed to be clad in a coat of golden armour, sat with its face away from the sun as if listening to the sleeping boy, who every now and then uttered a low, buzzing sound which seemed to have attracted the fly from the outer sunshine to dart to the window with a similar kind of hum, buzz round for a few moments, and then settle upon the grape. There was not much similarity in the two sounds, simply because the fly made his by the rapid motion of the wings, while Marcus produced his softly through his nose. In plain English, Marcus, the Roman boy, son of Cracis, the famous senator, tired out by the heat, had gone to sleep over his studies, snoring like an English lad of this year of grace, nearly two thousand years later on in the progress of the world. So Marcus snored, not loudly and unpleasantly, but with a nice, soft, humming note; and the great, golden-green fly sat on the grape and seemed to watch him. It was very still in the simple Roman villa on the steep slope of the hillside--a hill which looked like a young mountain, an offset of the beautiful spur that ran upward from the vineyard farms and villas of the campagna towards the purple shades of the great range far, far away. But now and again other sounds floated into the shadowy room past the bright bar of golden light which crossed the boy as he slept. There was the uneasy, querulous bleating of a goat, answered by the impatient cry of a kid, and now and again the satisfied grunting of pigs, though in those days they called them swine, of which there were several basking in the sunshine in the little farm attached to the villa, the little herd having shortly before returned from a muddy pool, dripping and thickly coated, after a satisfying wallow, to lay themselves down to dry and sleep in peace, the mud having dried into a crackling coat of armour which protected them from the flies. All at once that fly sprang up from the grape, darted into the room, and circled round, humming loudly, one moment invisible in the dark, velvety shade, the next flashing bright and golden as it darted across the sunny bar of light, till, all at once, it dropped suddenly upon the boy's glistening nose, producing such a tickling sensation with its six brush-armed feet, that Marcus started impatiently, perfectly wide awake, and sent his disturber escaping from the window by an angry stroke which, of course, missed, as he impatiently exclaimed in fine, old, sonorous, classic Latin: "Bother the flies!" The boy closed his eyes again, opened them sharply, and picked up his tablet and stylus, yawned, and carefully laid them down again, for his head felt very heavy. As he listened to the soft grunting of the swine, his eyelids dropped, and, in another moment, he would have been fast asleep once more, when from somewhere near at hand, as it seemed, there was a sharp crack as of the breaking of a piece of wood. Marcus listened, fully awake once more, and, rising softly, he rose and approached the window, to peer between the vine leaves that encroached all down one side. He was listening to a soft whispering which was followed by a laugh, a tearing noise, and another crack. The boy stole back and stood for a few moments in his loose, woollen, open-fronted garment, not very much unlike a tweed Norfolk jacket without pockets or buttons, very short in the sleeves. His eyes were wandering about the room as if in search of something which was not there, and, not finding it, he stretched out his hands before him, looked at them with a satisfied smile, and doubled his fists. Then, stealing further back into the shadow, he passed through a door, made his way along a passage, across another room, and out into the open atrium, a simply-made, shady court with a central basin where a little jet of water played up, sparkling, and fell back in glistening drops. The next minute the boy was out in a fairly extensive garden, stooping low as he glided among the trees towards the little trellised vineyard on the sunny slope, where, from the continued sounds, it was evident that a party of marauders were making a foray amongst the unripened grapes, which, trained to fir-poles secured to posts, formed an attractive pergola overhead. Marcus approached as near as he could unseen, and then paused to reconnoitre, to find that the sounds proceeded from a party of six boys of somewhere about his own age, two of whom had destructively climbed up a couple of the poles to be seated astride amongst the spreading vines, where, after throwing down bunches to their four companions below, they were setting their glistening white teeth on edge with the sour grapes they had torn from the clinging strands. They were talking in whispers, but that was the only sign of fear they displayed, for the villa stood alone, the nearest domicile, another villa farm, being a couple of hundred yards away lower down the slope, and, apparently perfectly convinced that the occupants of the place were right away, they feasted in perfect security and content. A grim smile came upon the handsome young face of Marcus as he watched the destruction going on. His eyes sparkled, his sun-browned cheek grew deeper in its tint, and he looked round again for the something that was not to hand, that something being a good stout stick. Then, clenching his fists more tightly--nature's own weapons--and without a sound, he suddenly made a dash for two of the boys who were standing with their backs towards him, and with a couple of springs came down upon them like fate, gripping them by the backs of their necks and sending them face downwards amongst the vine leaves and damaged bunches that had been torn from the vine, kneeling upon one and pressing the head of the other down into the soil, regardless of the shrieks and yells which made the two seated above drop down and follow the other two, who had taken to flight, while the noise that was made startled the sleeping swine outside to add their shrill squeals and heavy grunts to the turmoil of the cultivated ground within. It was hard work to keep down the two young marauders, who joined to their struggling piteous appeals for mercy; but Right strengthened the hands of Marcus, and he was gaining a complete triumph, and calculating where he should secure his two prisoners until either his father or Serge came back, the latter probably from his tramp through the forest to see after the young acorn-eating pigs. But the prisoners' shouts reached and added wings to their flying friends' heels for the moment, then checked them, and a feeling of comradeship prevailed. The young rascals stopped short after going some distance; then one looked back, and his example was followed by another and another, till all four were hesitating as to what they should do. They were on the balance when a more pitiful yell than ever from their trapped companions sent the scale down in the latter's favour. They looked at one another questioningly and then began to steal back to see what was happening, all the while fully on the alert to dash again through the trees which shaded their approach to the garden. In this way, with their fellows' bellowing ringing in their ears, they at last stole up to the palisading through which they had at first broken, and then, dropping on hands and knees, they crept cautiously up to the edge of the little vineyard and, sheltering themselves well, peered in. The first and boldest got a good glimpse at once, and beckoned and made way for the others to see what was happening. There was not much to see, only Marcus half kneeling half sitting upon the ragged back of one of his prisoners, and reaching over to grind the nose of the other a little more closely into the earth every time he squealed. But that was enough for the return party, which clustered together on all fours with their faces approaching and eyes questioning, like so many quadrupeds. They looked the more animal-like from their silence during the next few minutes, when the two prisoners made a concerted effort to get free--an effort which only resulted in making their position worse, for, as he mastered them, reducing them to obedience again, the boy jammed his knees fiercely into the ribs of the one upon whom he squatted, and lifted up and banged down again the head of the other. The result was a piteous burst of shrieks which were too much for their friends and supplied them with the courage in which they were wanting, making them with one consent spring forward to their comrades' help, influenced, however, by the feeling that they were six to one. So sudden and unexpected was the attack, which accompanied a loud shout--one which made the prisoners join in and heave themselves up to get free--that Marcus was jerked over, and, before he could gain his feet, found himself the centre of a combined attack in which he rapidly began to get the worst of it, for, while he fought bravely and pommelled and banged enemies in front, getting on so well that he succeeded in seizing two by the neck and hammering their heads together, two others leaped on him from behind in his weak rear, in spite of his splendid kicking powers, while two more attacked in front. Marcus was a young Roman, and fought like the Romans of old; but then the six young roughs were Romans too, and they fought like the Romans of old, and six to one is rather long odds. Breath began to come short, perspiration was streaming, and an unlucky blow on the nose set another stream flowing, while, all at once, a dab in the eye made the optic flinch, close its lid from intense pain, and refuse to open again, so that one-eyed like a regular old Cyclops, and panting like the same gentleman from the exertions of using his hammer-- two in this case, and natural--Marcus fought on, grinding his teeth, rapidly weakening, but determined as ever, though he felt that he was being thoroughly worsted by his foes. "I'm about done," he said to himself; but he did not utter a sound save his panting, while suddenly it began to grow dark; for, feeling that the day was their own, the enemy combined in a final rush, closed him in, hung on to him wherever they could get a hold, and were dragging him down to take vengeance for the past--for they were old enemies, Marcus and they--when, all at once, there was a fierce, deep, growling bark, a rush, a man's deep voice as if encouraging a dog, and Marcus was free, to stand there breathless and giddy, listening to the retreating steps of his foes and the shouts to the dog of Serge, who had come to his help in the nick of time. CHAPTER TWO. OLD SERGE. Marcus, son of Cracis, was a good deal hurt, but his injuries were of a temporary and superficial kind, and, as he stood listening, so little importance did he attach to his injuries that a broad grin began to gather upon his frank young face, and he uttered a low, chuckling laugh; for, as he stood wiping his brow and listening, he could hear the sounds of blows, yells and cries, the worrying growl of the dog, and the harsh encouraging voice of the man pretty close at hand, all of which taught him that the enemy had been checked in their retreat and were being horribly routed by the reinforcements--a cohort of dog and man. "The young ruffians!" said Marcus, softly, as, unwillingly dragging himself from where he could have the satisfaction of hearing the punishment that was being awarded, he hurried back into the villa and stopped in the court, where he sank upon his knees by the cool, plashing fountain, whose clear waters he tinged as he bathed his face and swollen eye. He had some intention of hurrying back to the scene of battle to look upon the damaged vines, and see if any prisoners had been made; but, while he was still occupied in his surgical effort to make his injured eye see as well as the other, he was startled into rising up and turning to face the owner of a deep, gruff voice, who had approached him unheard, to growl out: "Well, you were a pretty fellow, boy! Why didn't you beat 'em?" The speaker was a big, thick-set, grizzled man of fifty, his bare arms and legs brown-skinned, hairy and muscular, his chest open, and his little clothing consisting of a belted garment similar to that worn by the boy, at whom he gazed with a grim look of satisfaction which lit up his rugged face and fine eyes. "Weren't running away, were you?" "No!" shouted Marcus, angrily. "I kept at it till you came, Serge. But there were six." "Yes, I know. You didn't go the right way to work. Were they at the grapes?" "Yes. They woke me up; I had been writing, and I dropped asleep." "Writing?" said the man contemptuously and with a deep grunt of scorn. "Enough to send anybody to sleep on a day like this. I say, lucky for you I came back!" "Yes," said Marcus, giving his face a final wipe; "I was getting the worst of it." "Course you were. That's reading and writing, that is. Now, if you had been taught to be a soldier instead of a volumer, you'd have known that when the enemy's many more than you, you ought to attack him in bits, not take him all at once and get yourself surrounded. Yes, it's lucky for you I came." "Yes, and I hope you gave them something to remember it," said the boy, with his eyes fixed upon the stout crook upon which the new-comer leaned. "Oh yes, I made them feel this," said the man, with a chuckle; "and old Lupus tickled them up a bit and made them squeak." "That's right," cried Marcus; "but where is he?" "On guard," said the man. "On guard?" "Yes," said the man, with a chuckle. "We took the whole six of them prisoners." "Ah! Where are they then?" "Shut up fast alone with the wine-press. They won't get out of there with Lupus looking on." "Capital!" cried Marcus, forgetting all his sufferings in the triumphant news. "Here, Serge, what shall we do with them?" "I'm not going to do anything with them," said the man, gruffly. "I've had my turn, and it's yours now. You've got to fight the lot." "Yes," cried the boy, flushing, and his fists began to clench. "But I say, Serge, I should like to, but I'm a bit tired, and they're still six to one." "Yes," said the man, "but that's what I want you to see. It won't hurt you to know how, even if you're never going to be a soldier. You come along o' me." "What, to fight them?" cried Marcus. "Yes. Aren't afraid, are you?" "Not a bit," cried the boy, flushing angrily. "Come and see." The man chuckled as he went off with his young companion to the lower side of the villa, where stood a low-roofed stone building with heavy chestnut plank doors, before which crouched a big, shaggy wolf-hound which pricked up its ears and uttered a deep growl as it lifted up its bushy tail, and rapped the earth in recognition of the new-comers, but did not take its eyes from the door beyond which were the prisoners it had been set to guard. "Now, boy," said the man, "it was your doing that I taught you a bit of soldiering, and a nice row there'll be about it some day when he finds us out; so now I'm just going to show you, if you're not too tired, how one good Roman can fight six enemies and beat 'em, same as we've often done in the good old days when I wore my armour and brass helmet with its plume, not a straw hat and things like these. Ah, boy," said the man, drawing himself up and shouldering his crook as if it were a spear, "those were grand old times! I was a better man then than now." "No, you weren't, Serge, not a bit," cried the boy. "You must have always been what you are now--a dear good old chap who'd do anything for me." The fierce-looking old fellow smiled pleasantly, literally beaming upon the boy, whom he patted on the shoulder. "Ah," he said, "but there was no you then. But never mind all that. Hark!" he continued, softly, as a whispering was heard beyond the door, "They know we are coming, and they're thinking about making a rush when I open the door. But they'd better not try; you'd pin some of them, wouldn't you, Lupe?" The dog uttered a low, deep, thundering growl. "That's right, boy. Now, Marcus, my lad, if you feel too tired, say so, and we'll keep them till the master comes." "Oh, don't do that," cried the boy. "He'd only talk to them and scold them, and then let them go, after forgiving them for stealing the grapes." "That's right, boy; so he would." "And they'd all laugh," cried Marcus, "and come again." "But they won't after the welting you are going to give them, boy--if you are not too tired." "Of course I'm tired," cried the boy, impatiently, "after a fight like that; but then they are tired too, so it's all fair--only six to one?" "Don't I tell you that I am going to show you how to fight them as a Roman should, and how we used to conquer in the good old times before we took to reading and writing and came into the country to keep pigs." "And grow corn and grapes, and feed our goats in this beautiful farm villa; and if father liked to take to study instead of being a great Roman general and senator, it's not for you, Serge, to find fault with what it pleases him to do." "Right, boy! Spoken like your father's son. It was only one of my growls. I don't mind. He's one of the finest men that ever stepped, and what he says is right. But you and me, we don't want him to let these young ragamuffins off without loosening their skins a bit to do them good, do we?" "No!" cried the boy, joyously, as he showed his white teeth. "I say, Serge, I feel rested now, and I want to give it to them for knocking me about as they did. The rascally young plebs! The cowards! Six to one! I believe they'd have half killed me if they had got me down." "That they would, Marcus, my boy," cried the old soldier, gazing at him proudly. "But come on, I'll show you the way, and Lupe and I will look on and see that they fight fair, while we guard you flank and rear. Old Lupe shall be ready to scatter their mothers, if they hear that we have the young rascals fast. No women will interfere if old Lupe begins to show his teeth." The man and boy exchanged glances, and, as the former struck his staff down heavily upon the earth in advancing towards the great, rough door of the building, the latter's fists clenched involuntarily, and the dog pricked up his ears and uttered a low sigh. The next minute a big, rough, hairy hand was raised to the cross-bar which secured the door, and, at the first touch, there was a low, rustling sound within the building. Serge and Marcus exchanged glances again, while the dog crouched as if about to spring. Directly after, the bar was loosened, and fell with a clang, the door was dragged open from within, and the prisoners made a simultaneous rush to escape, but only to fall back with a despairing yell, for the great dog bounded at them, and the old soldier and his young master closed in, to fill up the door and step forward. "Stop outside, Lupe, my lad," said the old soldier, quietly; and the dog turned back to his former position and crouched once more, while the door was shut from the inside, the six boys backing to the far side, beyond the great stone hewn-out press, empty now, dry and clean, for the time of grape harvest was not yet. "Now then, my fine fellows," growled Serge; "you want to fight, do you?" "We want to go," half whimpered the one who acted as spokesman. "Oh, yes, you want to go," said the old soldier; "of course. Well, you shall go soon, but you wanted to fight young Marcus here, and you didn't play fair." "Never touched him till he came at us," cried another. "So I suppose," said Serge. "Very hard on you! Six nice boys! Interfered, did he, when you were breaking down the vines and stealing the grapes?" "They warn't ripe," whimpered another. "Then they ought to have been, seeing that you wanted them," cried Serge, indignantly, while Marcus laughed. "But as they weren't ripe, of course, it made you cross, and you began to fight young Marcus here." None of the boys spoke, but gazed longingly at the door. "Ah! You see it ain't fastened inside," said Serge, mockingly; "but it is fastened outside with dog's teeth. I wouldn't advise you to try to get out, because our dog, Lupus, doesn't like boys, and he's hungry. Nothing he'd like better than to eat such a chap as one of you. But you know that, and you wouldn't have come, only you'd seen me go off to the forest with him to herd up the young swine. Didn't know that we should be back so soon. You see, the young swine were just at the edge." "You'd better not touch us, old Serge," cried the biggest lad, in a whining tone. "You touch me and see if my father don't mark you!" "I'm not going to touch you, boy," replied the herdsman. "I've done all I wanted to you for breaking down my grape poles that I cut and set up. I've got you here because you wanted to fight." "I don't want to fight," cried the youngest of the party. "You'd better let us go." "Yes, I'm going to as soon as you've fought young Marcus and beat him as you meant to." "We don't want to fight," half sobbed another. "We want to go home." "I don't believe it," growled Serge. "You want to whip young Marcus, and I'm going to see you do it; only old Lupe, our dog, and me's going to see fair." "No, you ain't!" came in chorus. "You've got to call that dog off and let us go." "Yes, when you've done," said the old soldier, with a grin. "Who's going to be the first to begin? For it's going to be a fair fight, not six all at once upon one. Now then, anyhow you like, only one at a time. What, you won't speak? They're nice boys, Marcus, my lad, so modest they don't like to step before one another; so you'll have to choose for yourself. Just which you like, but I should go or that big fellow first." "I don't want to fight," whined the lad indicated, and he backed in among his companions and placed himself as far behind them as he could. "Oh, come! This is wasting time. There, go and fetch him out into the middle, Marcus, my lad--or no, I'll do it." CHAPTER THREE. AN OLD-FASHIONED FIGHT. Serge had been standing leaning over his crook, but now, taking it in both hands and holding it before him, he stepped quickly towards the big lad, who backed more and more away; but his effort to escape was in vain, for, quick as thought, Serge brought down his crook as if to strike the lad a violent blow, making him wince and bound aside, when, before he knew what was happening, he was hooked by the leg like an obstinate swine, and dragged, yelling and calling for help, out into the middle of the stone shed. "Got you," said Serge, coolly. "There, it's no use to kick. Here, you other boys, close up and see fair." Satisfied at once that they were outside the trouble, the other lads began to grin, and, obeying the old soldier, they closed in together, whispering to their companion who had just been hauled out, as they believed, to bear the brunt of the expected punishment. Their whispers were ill received by the selected victim, who, as soon as his leg was released from the crook, made as if to back away again; but his companions put a stop to this and began urging him on, trying to incite him to begin, he reluctant and resisting all the time, till his ire was roused by Marcus, who, at a word from the old soldier, dashed in to make a beginning, using his fists upon his enemy so well that, at the end of two or three minutes, the latter threw himself down, howling dismally and covering his face with his arms. "Here, you are not half done!" cried Serge, poking him in the ribs with the butt end of his crook. "Get up, will you, or I'll make the other fellows stand you in a corner to be thrashed." "Oh, let him be, Serge," cried Marcus. "I did give it him well, and hit him as hard as I could." "Oh, very well," said the old soldier, hooking the boy again and dragging him, resisting all he could, to the door. "Just hold it open, Marcus, my lad. That'll do. No, no, Lupe, we don't want you. Now then, young fellow, off you go, and if ever I see you here again I'll set the dog at you, and if he once gets hold he won't let you off so easily as I do." One minute the boy was resisting and tugging to get his leg free of the crook; the next, as soon as he realised that he was being set free, he dashed off, yelling threats of what he meant to do, till the dog sprang up with a growl, and the yells gave place to a shriek of fear, uttering which he disappeared from view. "Oh, no, you don't!" cried Serge, as, taking advantage of the dog's back being turned, the others cautiously approached the door, and were about to make a dash for liberty. As the old soldier spoke he thrust his crook across the doorway, and, as the boys fell back again, the dog resumed its watchful position and the door was closed. Directly after, to Marcus' great enjoyment, there was a repetition of the previous proceedings, Serge selecting another victim with his crook from the five prisoners, dragging him out into the middle, where Marcus, who now thoroughly enjoyed his task, attacked him as Serge fell back, and, between him and the other lads, the second prisoner was forced to fight; but it was a sorry exhibition of cowardice, resulting in a certain amount of punishment, before he too lay down and howled, and was then set at liberty. The proceedings were repeated till the other four had received a thrashing, and the last had clashed off, shamming terrible injury one minute till he was outside the door, and yelling defiance the next; and then, as the footsteps died out, Marcus threw himself upon the ground under the shady vines. "Hallo!" cried Serge, anxiously. "Have they hurt you, boy?" "No," was the reply; "but I hurt myself a good deal against their thick heads. But I say, Serge, do you think that was fair?" "Fair? Of course it was!" "But it seemed so one-sided, and as if I had it all my own way. They couldn't fight because they were afraid of you." "Of you, you mean, boy, when it was man to man." "No," said Marcus; "they'd have fought better if you and the dog hadn't been here." "Yes, and they could all have come on you at once. A set of mongrel young hounds--half savages, that's what they are. You didn't thrash them half enough." "Quite as much as I wanted to," cried the boy, "for my knuckles are as sore as sore. But oh, I say, Serge, it was comic!" "They didn't think it was, my lad." "I mean, to see you hooking them out one after another with your old crook, yelling and squealing like pigs." "Humph!" grunted the old soldier, with his grim face relaxing. "Well, it has given them a pretty good scaring, and I don't suppose that they will come after our grapes again." "Yah-h-ah!" came in a defiant chorus from a distance, where the young marauders had gathered together, and the dog sprang upon his feet, growling fiercely, before bursting into a deep, baying bark. "Hear that?" cried Marcus. "Hear it, yes! And it would not take much to make me set old Lupe after them. He'd soon catch them up, and then--" "Yah-h-ah!" "Fetch them down, boy!" shouted the old soldier, and, with a fierce roar, the dog dashed off in a series of tremendous bounds, but only to be checked by a shrill whistle from Marcus, which stopped the fierce beast and brought him trotting slowly back, to crouch down at his young master's feet. "Why did you do that, lad?" cried the old soldier, staring. "Because I didn't want Lupe to get amongst them, worrying and tearing. What would my father have said?" The old soldier let his crook fall into the hollow of his left arm and pushed off his battered straw hat, to let it slide down between his shoulders, where it hung by its string, while, with his grim sun-tanned face as full of wrinkles as a walnut shell, he slowly swept the drops of moisture from his brow. "Hah, yes," he said; "I didn't think of that. He wouldn't have liked it. He's got so soft and easy with people since he took to volumes and skins covered with writing. Why, his sword would be all rusty if it wasn't for me. It's all waste of time, for he'll never use it again, but I don't like to see a good blade such as his all covered with spots. Yes, boy," added the man, thoughtfully, "I'm glad you stopped old Lupe. Haw-haw-haw! I should rather liked to have seen him, though, nibbling their heels and making them run." "Nibbling!" laughed Marcus. "Nibbling, Serge!" And the boy stooped down, raised the great dog's muzzle, and pulled up one of his lips to show the great, white fangs. "Not much of nibblers, these." "Well, no, my lad," said the old soldier; "they don't look nibbley. Nibblers wouldn't do for him, would they, Lupe, old man? He wants good tools to tackle the wolves in winter. There, it's all over, and I don't feel so savage now. Here, you had better go and have a good wash while I see to the vine poles and put in a new un or two from the stack. I expect I shall have to prune a bit too, and tie, where those young ruffians have been at work. Let's get a bit tidy before the master comes back, though I don't suppose he'd take any notice if there wasn't a grape bunch left. But he'd see the dirt and scratches on your face first thing." "Yes, of course," cried the boy, hastily, as he held up his knuckles, two of which were minus skin, and showing traces of dried blood. "But I say, Serge, look at my face. Is it much knocked about?" "Well, pretty tidy, my lad. You look as if you had been in the wars. Nose is a little bit knocked on one side." "Oh, Serge!" cried the boy, showing real excitement now. "Left eye looks a bit sleepy, too." "Serge!" "Well, you asked me, my lad--and your bottom lip has been cut against your tooth." "Oh, what will he say?" cried the boy, wildly. "I dunno," growled the old soldier, grimly. "Yes, I do," and his eyes twinkled with satisfaction and pride in the prowess his young master had displayed. "What will he say?" cried the boy, anxiously, and as if he placed full confidence in the old servant's words. "Say you oughtn't to have been fighting, but been busy scratting about with your stylus and making marks on that wax." "But I was busy, only it was so hot and one couldn't keep awake; and when I heard those fellows breaking down the vines--" "Why, you went out and walloped them, of course," cried the man. "Quite nat'ral. What boy wouldn't who had got any stuff in him at all? There, don't you fret yourself about it, lad. The master will grumble at you a bit, of course, same as he does at me; but he's a right to, and it's only his way as he's got into now since he took to his books and writing. But there was a time--ah! And not so very long ago, my lad-- when if he'd caught those ragged young cubs tearing down his vines, he'd have stood and laughed and enjoyed seeing you thrash 'em, and helped you with his stick. And done them good too, made men of them, knowing what was right. But there, those days have all passed away. No more marching in the legion with the men's plumes dancing in the sunshine, and every man's armour as bright and clean as hands can make it. Ah, Marcus, my boy, those were grand old days, when we marched out to conquer, and came back and made grand processions, and the prisoners carrying all the spoil. I did hope to have seen you as fine a young centurion, growing into a general, as your father was before you. But-- but--There, don't stand staring at me with your eyes shining, your face red, and your mouth half open like that. Be off at once and have a good wash, and bathe those cuts and bruises till they look better." "Yes! I had better go," said the boy, with a sigh. "It was a great bother for those boys to come. I meant when you came back for us to have some practice with the shield and spear, and then for you to show me again how to use the sword." "Hah, yes," growled the old man, drawing a deep breath through his dilating nostrils, and unconsciously he whirled up his crook with one hand, and as he dropped into a picturesque attitude with one foot advanced and let the stout staff drop into his extended left hand, "that's the way," he cried. "Fancy, boy, a thousand spears presented all at once like that to the coming barbarians, and then the advance slowly and steadily, driving them scattered back, while the trumpets sounded and the ground quivered like a coming earthquake beneath the army's tramp. That's how we conquered and made the fame of grand old Rome. Bah! What an old fool I am!" he cried, as he stamped the end of his crook down once more, "I forget I'm not a soldier now, boy, only Cracis' man who tends his farm and keeps his swine." "Never mind, Serge; we are very nice and happy here. The place is so beautiful. Father likes you." "Bah! Not he! He only looks upon me as a slave." "That he doesn't!" cried the boy, indignantly. "Why, only the other day he was talking about you." "About me?" "Yes, and saying what a happy, peaceful place this was." "Peaceful! Bah!" "And that it didn't matter what came to pass, he had me with him." "Of course! Spoken like a father." "And you," continued the boy, "a true old friend in whom he could trust." "What!" cried the old soldier. "What! Friend? Did he say that?" "Of course. He often talks like that." "A friend in whom he could trust!" muttered the old soldier. "And here have I been listening to you and doing what I know he'd hate." He gripped the boy sharply by the wrist as he spoke. "Why, Serge, what do you mean?" cried the boy, wonderingly. "Mean! Why, what have I been doing? Doesn't he want you to grow up as one who hates fighting, and a lover of peace? And here have I been teaching you how to use the sword and spear and shield, making of you one who knows how to lead a phalanx to the fight--a man of war. What would he say if he knew?" Marcus was silent. "I have done wrong, boy," continued the old soldier, "and some day he'll find us out." The boy was still silent for a few moments. Then quickly-- "I must tell him some day, Serge, that it was all my doing--that I wouldn't let you rest until you had taught me what I know." "That's true, boy," said Serge, in a sombre tone, "and it all comes of letting you see me take so much care of his old armour and his sword and spear. Yes, like my own old arms and weapons, I have kept them all bright and ready for use, for it's always seemed to me as if the time might come and bring the order for us to march to tackle some of Rome's old enemies, or to make new conquests--perhaps to Gaul--and that we must be ready for that day. I oughtn't to have done it, boy, but I was an old soldier, one who loved to see his weapons ready for the fight, and somehow I did. There, off you go! It's no use to think now of what is done." CHAPTER FOUR. CAUGHT. It was the next day, under a brilliant blue Italian sky, that Marcus, after spending the morning with his father in the room he devoted to his studies, hurried out with a sense of relief to seek out the old soldier, whom he expected to find repairing damages amongst the vines. But the damages were repaired, and very few traces remained of the mischief that had been done; but several of the upright fir-poles looked new, and there were marks of knife and bill-hook upon some of the fresh cross-pieces that had been newly bound in their places. But a freshly tied-in cane and the careful distribution of the broad leaves pretty well hid the injured places, and Marcus walked away smiling as he thought of the encounter he had had, while passing his fingers daintily over bruise and cut, and feeling gently a place or two that were tender still. He walked down one path and up another of the garden, his eyes wandering about to see if Serge were busy there; but he was absent, and there was no sign of him in the farmyard, and none of the labourers whom he found at work could give any news of his whereabouts. For quite half an hour the boy wandered about the well-kept little estate of his father before beginning to return towards the villa embowered in flowers that had been carefully trained over the stone walls, when, going round to the back, he heard a burring sound as if someone with a very unmusical voice were trying to sing; and, hurrying along a path, after muttering impatiently, the boy made for an open window, grasping the fact that he had had all his walk and search for nothing, and that, if he had gone round to the two rooms set apart for the old soldier's use before going out, he would have found him there. Marcus dashed up to the window, and looked in. "Why, Serge," he cried, "I've been hunting for you everywhere! Ah! What are you doing there?" Without waiting for an answer, the boy drew sharply back, ran to an open doorway, entered and made his way at once into Serge's room, a rough museum in its way of the odds and ends of one who acted as herdsman, gardener, and general odd man to the master of the little country Roman villa. "Why, I have just come in time!" "Oh, here you are, then," said Serge, ignoring the boy's question. "Well, what did the master say about the broken vines?" "Nothing," replied Marcus. "Well, about your cuts and bruises?" "Nothing," said the boy again. "He must have said something, seeing how you're knocked about." "No, he must not." "What!" "He was so quiet and thoughtful yesterday evening, and again this morning, that he hardly looked at me at breakfast time; and when we went into the study he took up the new volume he is reading, and hardly raised his head again." "Then you haven't been scolded for fighting?" "Not in the least." "So much the better for you." "But I say, what in the world is the meaning of all this?" cried the boy, as he stepped to the rough table, upon which, bright with polishing, was a complete suit of armour such as would have been worn by a Roman man-at-arms if he had joined the army when a mere youth. There lay the curved, brazen helmet with its comb arching over and edged with its plume, the scaled cheek-straps that held it in its place, the leathern breast and back-piece moulded and hammered into the shape of the human form, brazen shoulder-pieces, ornamentations and strengthening, the curved, oblong shield and short sword with lion's head to its hilt and heavy sheath. There were two more helmets and suits of armour hanging from the walls, the one rich and ornamental, such as an officer would have worn, the other plain, and every indication visible of the old soldier having had a general clean up, the result of his polishing being that every piece of metal glistened and was as bright as hands could make it. "Come in time?" said Serge. "What for? I didn't want you here." "No, but I wanted to come. How beautiful it all looks!" These words softened the old soldier's next remarks. He uttered a satisfied grunt as he said: "Yes, I have had a good turn at them; but it seems a pity, don't it?" "What seems a pity?" "To wrap all that tackle up and put it away so as it shan't be seen, till I think it wants cleaning again." "Yes, of course. But you are not going to put mine away." "Oh, yes, I am," said the old man. "I didn't sleep all last night for thinking about it. I don't mean for us to get into any trouble with the master, so remember that." "Look here, Serge!" cried the boy, angrily, "you can put your armour and father's away, of course, but this is mine, and I didn't save up the money father gave me and let you buy what was wanted and pay those old workmen, the smith and armourer, to cut down and alter and make all these things to fit me, to have them all wrapped up and put away where I can't see them." "But you must, boy. You are not going to fight." "Never mind that. I am not going to have them put away." "Why not?" "Because I want to put them on sometimes." "Bah! To go and strut about like a full-plumaged young cockerel in the spring, and look at yourself in a bit of glass!" "No; I'm not so vain," said the boy; "but I've got that armour and those weapons, and you have been teaching me how to use a sword and spear, and a lot more besides, and I mean to go on learning--so mind that." "Ho!" cried the old man. "And who's going to teach you?" "You are, till I'm perfect." "Can't ever get perfect in using a sword and spear. It arn't to be done, no matter how you practise." "Well, I mean to get as perfect as I can, and you are going on teaching me." "Nay," said the old man; "once a fool don't mean always a fool. I am going to put all these away, and you have got to forget it." "No!" cried the boy, angrily. "I shall never forget what you've taught me, Serge--never; and I'm not going to have my things put away. You shall keep them here, as you have since you fetched them home one after the other as they were made." "And all too big for you, so that you might fill up and grow into them," said the old soldier, with a sigh of regret. "And I have grown, ever so much, Serge." "You have, lad; and you're big-boned, and you'll make a big man one of these days. You were framing finely for a soldier, my boy. But that's all over now." "No, it isn't," cried the boy, impatiently, "and you shall go on teaching me about all the fighting and the men's shields being all linked together so that the enemy shouldn't break through the serried ranks." "Nay, my lad," sighed the old warrior; "that was all very grand, but I don't know what I could have been thinking about to let you persuade me to teach you what I did, all going against the master's orders as it was. I suppose I liked it, for it put me in mind of the old days; but I seem to have come to myself like and know better now. You tempted me, my lad, and I'm afraid I tempted you; but no more of it. I'm sorry for what's done, and the best way to be sorry for it is to own up and never do so any more." "Then you mean that you're to leave off teaching me?" "Yes, my lad; that's so." "And suppose I say, as your master: `you shall go on.' What then?" "I should say: `you're not going to disobey your father's orders any more, but to give all this soldiering up like a man.'" "Serge!" "That's right, my lad, and I know you aren't going to set your face against what the master says I'm right, aren't I?" "Yes, Serge," said the boy, sadly; "but it seems very hard." "It do, boy, very, very hard; but orders are orders, and I forgot to teach you what is the first thing a soldier has to learn." "What's that, Serge? How to use his sword and shield? You did teach me that." "No, that's not what I meant. What a soldier has to learn first is to obey orders, and I want to teach you that now." Marcus was silent for a while, as he stood looking wistfully at the speaker, then at the bright soldierly accoutrements, back at the old man, and lastly, as if the bright weapons and armour fascinated him, he stood frowning fixedly down at everything that was spread out upon the rough table. The boy's looks and actions affected the old man, who said sadly: "It do seem hard, lad, eh?" "Yes, very, very hard, Serge," replied Marcus. "But it's duty, boy, eh! What we ought to do?" "Yes, Serge, and it must be done; but I wish we had never begun it all." "Ay, lad, so do I; but it's of no use to wish. There, have one good look at it, and then I'll put it all away in the big chestnut box." "But I shall want to look at it all sometimes, Serge." "Well, I don't see no harm in that, my boy. Only no more fighting lessons." "No," sighed Marcus; "no more fighting lessons. You are right, Serge, and I'm going to forget all about it if I can; but I shall always feel that I should have liked to be a Roman soldier." "Ah, you can't help that, boy, of course." "No, I can't help that," sighed Marcus, and, stretching out his hands, he picked up the heavy brazen helmet, looked at it round and round before turning it with the back towards him, and then, slowly raising it, he balanced the heavy head-piece on high for a few moments before slowly lowering it down upon his head; the scaled cheek-straps fell into their places, and he drew himself up erect with his eyes flashing and face lighting up, as he gazed half defiantly at the old soldier. "Hah!" cried the latter. "It do fit you well, boy, and you look nearly a man in it." "Do I, Serge?" cried the boy, flushing, as he put off the helmet with a sigh, and set it aside; then, catching up the sword and belt, he went out on to the _Piazza_ to buckle them on, his fingers trembling with excitement the while. "Do you, boy? Yes, and a regular soldier too," said Serge, following. Marcus threw his hand across and grasped the scabbard of the short sword blade with his left, the hilt with his right, and, the next moment, the keen, two-edged weapon flashed in the sunlight. "Good! Brave boy!" cried the old soldier excitedly, and, forgetting all the words that had passed, he fetched the oblong, round-faced shield from the table and held it ready for Marcus to thrust his left arm through the loop and then grasp the hand-hold firmly, and draw the piece of defensive armour before his breast. "Well done! Now think that I'm going to cut you down." In an instant Marcus had drawn back with all his weight upon his right foot, as he slightly raised the shield to cover his head and left breast, before throwing himself forward again, bringing up his right hand, sword-armed as it was, and delivering a thrust which, in the boy's excitement, lightly touched the folds of the thick woollen garment which crossed his breast, while the receiver smartly drew himself aside. "Gently, boy!" he shouted. "I didn't mean you to do that!" "Oh, Serge!" cried Marcus, flushing scarlet. "I didn't mean to touch you like that! I haven't hurt you, have I?" he cried. "Well, no," said the old fellow, smiling grimly; "but it was very near, and the point of that sword's as sharp as I could grind it." "I'm so sorry," cried Marcus. "I didn't think." "Lucky for me I did," said Serge, with a laugh. "Did you think I was an enemy?" "No," cried Marcus, hurriedly; "I thought--no, I didn't think." "Of course you didn't, boy, but--" "What is the meaning of this?" said a stern voice, and a bare-headed figure draped in the folds of a simple Roman toga stood looking wonderingly at the pair. CHAPTER FIVE. THE TROUBLE GROWS. "There!" muttered Serge. "We've done it now!" "My old arms and weapons! Yours, Serge! And these?--How came you to be possessed of those, my boy?" The new-comer pointed, frowning the while, at the boy's weapons, and then turned his eyes upon Serge, who turned as red as the detected boy, and made signs for him to speak; but, instead of speaking out, Marcus signalled back for his companion to explain. "I am waiting very patiently for one of you to give me some explanation, though I see plainly enough that I have been disobeyed by you, my son, as well as by my old servant, in whom I thought I could place confidence. Marcus, my son, do not disgrace yourself further by behaving like a coward. Speak out at once and confess." "Yes, father," cried the boy, making a desperate effort to speak out frankly. "I want to tell you everything, but it is so hard to do." "Hard to speak the truth, boy?" "No, father, I did not mean that. I--I--" "Well, sir?" "I've done wrong, father, and I am ashamed of it." "Hah! Come, that is more like my boy," cried Cracis, very sternly, but with the frown upon his brow less deeply marked. "There, go on." "It was like this, father. One day I found Serge cleaning and burnishing the old armour that you and he used to wear." "Why was this, sir?" cried Cracis sternly to his old servant. "Did I not tell you that I had given up a warrior's life for ever?" "Yes, master." "Did I place any tie upon you? Did I not tell you that you were free to remain in the legion?" "Yes, master; but how was I to leave you? You know I could not." "Well, sir, I gave you leave to stay here with me in my country house, but I told you to leave all traces of my former life behind." "You did, master." "Is this the way that you obey a master who has always been true to you in his dealings?" "It's all bad, master," replied the man, "and I tried hard to do my duty, and so I brought the old armour and our swords, and something seemed to make me keep everything clean and bright, ready if it should be wanted." "It never could be wanted by one who was rejected, humbled and disgraced as I was, man. You knew all that took place, and saw me cast down from my position." "Yes, master, and my heart bled for you. That's why I came." "Yes," said Cracis, more gently, "and in my heart, Serge, I thank you for your fidelity; but my orders were that all traces of our old position in the Roman army should be destroyed." "Yes, master," said the man, humbly, "but they wouldn't destroy. I only kept them, and cleaned them up now and then when no one was looking; but you know what young Marcus is: he found me out." "Yes, father," cried Marcus, excitedly; "don't blame Serge. I made him talk to me about the past, and he was obliged to tell me all about you being such a great friend of Caesar, and how, at last, you went against him and he--There, I won't say any more, father, because I can see from your face how it hurts you; but I got to know everything, and, when you were busy reading and writing of an evening, I used to come and sit by the fire in the winter's nights and make him tell me about the wars and what a great general you were; and so, from always loving to hear about rights, I loved to hear of the wars and conquests more and more, and--" "Go on, my son, and keep nothing. I must hear everything now." "Yes, father; I want to be frank. It was all my doing, for I persuaded and then I ordered Serge to get me sword and armour, and made the armourer alter a man's breast-plate and helmet to fit me, and--and paid for it all by degrees; and then I made Serge teach me how to wear the armour and use the sword and spear and shield; and it was all like that, father." "And he has taught you all this?" said Cracis, sternly. "Yes, father. I made him do it; but I did it all as a thoughtless boy." "And did this old soldier do all as a thoughtless boy," said Cracis, bitterly, "or as my trusted servant?" "He did it as my servant as well as yours, father," said the boy, proudly. "I told him it was his duty to obey me, his master's son, father, and, poor fellow, he obeyed unwillingly till to-day, when he felt and I felt, that we had been doing very wrong, that it was all worse than we had ever thought, and this was the last time the teaching was to go on. Everything was to be put aside, and I was going to work hard at my writing and reading, as you wished, and try to think no more about the army and the wars." Cracis was silent for a few moments, during which he gazed searchingly at his son. "Is this the very truth?" he said. "Every word of it, master!" cried Serge, excitedly. "Tell him, Marcus boy, how it was all by chance you put on your helmet and drew your sword. I wish now, boy, it had gone through me and made an end of me, before I had to stand up like this and own all my fault." "What do you mean by that--the sword gone through you, Serge?" "Yes, father. In my eagerness I made a big thrust at him, and the point of my sword almost entered his breast." "Dangerously close?" asked Cracis. "Horribly close, father, and--there, I am glad you found it all out. I have no more to say, father, only that you must punish me, not Serge, and I will bear everything without saying a word." Cracis was silent for a few minutes, and his voice sounded different when he spoke again. "Where have these war-like implements been kept?" he said. "In your big chest, master, made out of the planks cut from the big chestnut that was hewn down four years ago." "Place them back there, Serge," said Cracis, gravely. "Fasten them in, and carry the chest and bestow it where it may stand beside my bed." "But father--" began Marcus. "Silence, sir!" said Cracis. "I wish to think of all this, and not judge hastily. Take off those unseemly weapons, which are far from suited for my student son. Let this be done at once, Serge. You, Marcus, will follow me to my room, and be there an hour hence. I have much to say to you, my boy, very much to say." Cracis turned thoughtfully away, leaving his son with the old soldier, for them to gaze sadly at one another as the slow steps of the father and master died away. "He'll never forgive us, Marcus, my lad." "He will forgive us both, Serge," said Marcus quickly; "but what would I not give if it had never been done!" "No," said Serge, grimly, "he'll never forgive us." "Nonsense!" cried Marcus. "You don't know my father as I do." "Better, a lot, boy. I've fought with him, starved with him, saved his life; and I'll be fair--he's saved mine more than once. But he's hard as bronze, boy, and when he says a thing he'll never go back." "And I say he's as good and forgiving as can be, and when all the armour has been put away as he told you, he'll forget all this trouble, and we shall be as happy again as ever." "You say that, boy, because you don't know him. I do, and there's nothing left for it but for me to make up my bundle and go off." "What!" cried Marcus, laughing. "You pack up your bundle and go?" "Yes, my lad; I can never get over this again. I have been a servant and herdsman here all these years because I felt your father respected me, but now he don't I feel as if I could never do another stroke of work, and I shall go." "No, you won't, Serge; you are only saying that because you are cross." "Oh no," said the man, shaking his head, "not cross, boy--wounded. Cut to the heart. I'm only a poor sort of labouring man here and servant, but I have been a soldier, and once a soldier always a soldier at heart, a man who thinks about his honour. Ah, you smile; and it does sound queer for a man dressed like this and handling a herdsman's crook to talk about his honour; but inside he's just the same man as wore the soldier's armour and plumed helmet and marched in the ranks, erect and proud, ready to follow his general wherever he led. You wouldn't think it strange for a proud-looking man like that to say his honour was touched." "No," said Marcus, thoughtfully. "Well, boy, I'm the same man still. I have lost your father's confidence, and as soon as I have done putting away of our armour and weapons, as he told me, in the big old chest, I shall pack up and go." "Shall you take your sword and helmet with you, Serge?" asked the boy. The man stared, and looked at him sharply, before remaining silent for quite a minute. "No," he cried, angrily; "I shall take nothing that will bring up the past. I want to forget it all." "But what do you mean to do?" said Marcus. "I don't know yet, boy. Something will happen, I daresay; for we never know what's going to take place to-morrow, and I shall leave all that." The man ceased speaking, and began almost caressingly to straighten and arrange the various pieces of military accoutrement that he had been burnishing, while Marcus sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching him sadly. "I don't like it, Serge," he said at last. "Nay, boy, and I don't like it," replied the man. "I said just now we never know what is going to take place to-morrow. Who would have thought yesterday that things could have been like this to-day? But here they are. Hah!" he cried passionately. "I wish I hadn't shrunk away." "Shrunk away!" cried Marcus. "Why, you are bigger and stouter than ever you were." "Pah!" ejaculated the man, angrily. "I don't mean that. I mean shrunk away as I did just now when you made that thrust at me with the sword." "What!" cried Marcus. "Why, I should have killed you. That sword point is so horribly sharp. You don't know what a shudder ran through me when I saw what I had nearly done." "Yes, you would have killed me, boy, and that's what I wish you had done." "Serge, do you know what you are talking about?" cried Marcus. "Are you going mad?" "Oh yes, I know what I'm talking about, and perhaps I am going mad. What else can you expect of a poor fellow who, all at once, finds himself dishonoured and disgraced?" "You are not. I tell you I don't believe that my father will ever say another word when all the things are put away." "Yes, because you don't know him, boy. There, it's no use to talk. I have made up my mind to go." "What nonsense!" said Marcus. "When my father as good as said he was going to look over all the past." "Ah, but that won't do for me, boy. I am dishonoured and disgraced, and I can never hold up my head again." "Oh, Serge, this comes hard on me," cried the boy, passionately. "Nay, boy; it's all on my unfortunate head." "It isn't, Serge," cried Marcus, "for, as I told father, it was all my doing. It was my stupid vanity and pride. I took it into my head that I wanted to be a soldier the same as father and you had been, and it has brought all this down upon you. I shall never forgive myself as long as I live." "Nay, but you will, boy, when I'm gone and forgotten." "Gone and forgotten!" cried Marcus, angrily. "You are not going, and you couldn't be forgotten. I shall never forget you, Serge, as long as I live." "Shan't you, boy?" said the man, smiling sadly. "Well, thank ye. I don't think you will. I like that, boy, for you never seemed like a young master to me. I'm old and ugly, while you're young and handsome, but somehow we have always seemed to be companions like, and whatever you wanted me to do I always did." "Yes, that you did, Serge," cried Marcus, laughing. "I don't see nothing to laugh at, boy," said the old soldier, bitterly, as he half drew Marcus' blade from its scabbard, and then thrust it fiercely back with a sharp snap. "No, but I do," said Marcus, "sad as all this is. It seems so droll." "What does?" cried the man, fiercely. "For you to talk about being old and ugly--you, such a big, strong, manly fellow as you are. Why, you are everything that a man ought to be." "What!" cried the old soldier, gazing wonderingly at the boy, a puzzled look in his eyes as if he was in doubt whether the words to which he listened were mocking him. "Why, look at you! Look at your arms and legs, and the way in which you step out, and then your strength! The way in which you lift heavy things! Do you remember that day when you took hold of me by the belt and lifted me up, to hold me out at arm's length for ever so long when I was in a passion and tried to hit you, and the more I raged the more you held me out, and laughed, till I came round and thought how stupid I was to attack such a giant as you, when I was only a poor feeble boy?" "Nay, nay, you were never a poor feeble boy, but always a fine, sturdy little chap, and strong for your years, from the very first. That was partly my training, that was, and the way I made you feed. Don't you remember how I told you that it was always a soldier's duty to be able to fast, to eat well when he had the chance, and go without well when he hadn't, and rest his teeth?" "Oh, yes, I recollect you told me it was the way to grow up strong and hearty, and that some day I should be like you." "Well, wasn't that true enough? Only it takes time. And so you thought I was quite a giant, did you?" "Yes, and so I do now. Old and worn out! What stuff! Why, Serge, I have always longed and prayed that I might grow up into a big, strong, fine-looking man like you." "Thank you, my lad," said the man, sadly, and with the beaming smile that had come upon his face dying out, to leave it cold and dull. "Then you won't forget me, boy, when--" He stopped short, with a suggestion of moisture softening his fierce, dark eyes. "Forget you! You know I shan't. But what do you mean by `when'?" "When my well-picked, dry bones are lying out somewhere up the mountain side, scattered here and there." "What!" cried Marcus, laughing merrily. "Who's going to pick them and scatter them to dry up in the mountains?" "The wolves, boy, the wolves," said the man, bitterly, "for I suppose I shall come to that. You asked me what I was going to do. I'll tell you. I shall wander away somewhere right up among the mountains, for my soldiering days are over, and I can never serve another master now, and at last I shall lie down to die! The wolves will come, and," he added, with a sigh, "you know what will happen then." "Oh yes," said Marcus, with mock seriousness. "The poor wolves! I shall be sorry for them. I know what will happen then. At the first bite you will jump up in a rage, catch them one at a time by the tail, give them one swing round, and knock their brains out against the stones. You wouldn't give them much chance to bite again." A grim smile gradually dawned once more upon the old soldier's countenance, and, slowly raising one of his hands, he began to scratch the side of his thickly-grizzled head, his brow wrinkling up more deeply the while, as he gazed into the merry, mocking eyes that looked back so frankly into his. "You are laughing at me, boy," he said, at last. "Of course I am, Serge. Oh my! You are down in the dumps! I say, how many wolves do you think you could kill like that? But, oh nonsense! You wouldn't be alone. If old Lupe saw you going off with your bundle he'd spring at you, get it in his teeth, and follow you carrying it wherever you went." "Hah! Good old Lupe!" said the man, thoughtfully. "I'd forgotten him. Yes, he'd be sure to follow me. You'd have to shut him up in the wine-press." "And hear him howl to get out?" cried Marcus. "No, I shouldn't, because I shouldn't be there." "Why, where would you be?" said Serge, wonderingly. "Along with you, of course." "Along o' me?" "Yes. If you left home and went away for what was all my fault, do you think I should be such a miserable cur as to stop behind? No; I should go with you, Serge, and take my sword, and you and Lupe and I could pretty well tackle as many wolves as would be likely to come up at us on the mountain side." "Ah," cried the man, "you are talking like a boy." "And so are you, Serge, when you say such things as you did just now. Now, look here; you are going to do as father said, pack up all the armour in the old chest, and then you are going to speak out and tell him that you are sorry that you listened to me, and then it will be all over and we shall go on again just the same as before. You and I will think out something that we can learn or do, and talk of something else besides fighting. There, let's have no more talking about going away. Look sharp and get it over. I shan't be happy till I see you and father shaking hands again. Now promise me you will go and get it done." "'Tis done, boy; I did speak and made myself humble, just as you want; but he wouldn't take it right, and you know what he said. I can't never forget it now. He wouldn't listen to me, and no words now, no shaking hands, will put it straight. I shall have to go." "Oh!" cried Marcus. "What an obstinate old bull it is! Yes, I mean it, Serge; you are just like a human bull. Now, look here; do as I tell you. You have got to go and speak to father as I say." "Nay, boy," said the man, solemnly, "not a word. I am going to do my bit of work, the last job I shall ever do here, and then it will be good-bye." Marcus sprang up in a passion. "I can't bring you to your senses," he said. "You are too stubborn and blunt. If you won't promise me you will go and speak to father, I shall go myself and tell him all you say." "Do, boy; that's right! I like to hear you turn like that. Hit me and kick me if you will. It will all make it easier for me to go away." Marcus stood up before him, looking at him fiercely, and he was about to flash out a torrent of angry words, but, feeling that he would say something of which he might afterwards repent, he dashed out of the room and made for his father's study. CHAPTER SIX. MAKING THE BEST OF IT. Cracis was deep in thought, seated by the open window, with the double roll of a volume in his hands, reading slowly line by line of the old papyrus Romano-Grecian writings of one of the philosophers, and, as he came to each line's end, it slowly disappeared beneath the upper roll, while the nether was opened out to leave the next line visible to the reader's eye. Marcus dashed in loudly, but stopped short as he saw how his father was occupied, and waited for him to speak; but Cracis was deep in his studies and heard him not, so, bubbling over with impatience, the boy advanced and laid his hand upon the student's arm. Cracis looked up, wonderingly, and seemed to be obliged to drag his attention from the book, smiling pleasantly in the flushed face of his son, and with every trace of anger missing from his own. "Well, boy," he said, gently, "what is it? Something you can't make out?" "Yes, father--old Serge." "Ah, Serge!" said Cracis, with his brow clouding over. "I am sorry all that happened, but it was your fault, my boy. You regularly led the brave, old, honest fellow astray." "Yes, father, I did," cried Marcus, eagerly, "and now he has taken all your angry words to heart." "Oh, tut, tut, tut! Nonsense! I have forgiven it all, my boy; but he has not yet brought in the chest." "No, father, I have left him packing it all now, and I have told him that all that is over, and that when we have time we must amuse ourselves in some other way than playing at soldiers and talking of war." Cracis laid his hand upon his son's shoulder and, with his face growing sterner, looked proudly in the young, frank face. "Thank you, my boy," he said. "That is very brave and right of you. It shows great respect for me. Well, there! The past is all forgiven and forgotten--nay, I will not say forgotten; that can never be. Let it always stand in your memory as a stone of warning. Well, that is all over now." "But it isn't all over, father," cried the boy. "Old Serge says what you said has cut him to the heart, and that you didn't forgive him properly, and that he is dishonoured and disgraced as a soldier." "Poor brave old Serge!" said Cracis, warmly. "Hah!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "I wish he were here to hear you speak like that." "Oh, nonsense, boy. Time is too valuable to waste by thinking over such troubles as that. He must understand that I have reproved him for a fault and forgiven him." "But he won't understand, father. He's as obstinate as a bull." "He is, and always was, Marcus," said Cracis, smiling; "but no man is perfect, and Serge's good qualities more than balance all his bad. But there, boy, what does he want me to do?" "I don't know, father. He thinks what you have said can never be undone, that he can never be the same here again as he was, that he has lost your confidence and you won't trust him again, and--" "Well, and what?" said Cracis, smiling tolerantly. "Oh, it's too stupid to tell you, father." "One has to hear stupid things in life, my boy, as well as wise, so tell me all the same. You see, poor Serge, with all his noble qualities, has never been a man to read and learn wisdom from the works of the great. Simple, matter-of-fact and straightforward, he is not one who reflects and balances his acts before he makes them live. I don't think Serge ever said to himself: `shall I? Shall I not?' before he did a thing, and I suppose he has not been reflecting now. I am sorry I hurt his feelings, but I am the master. He is my servant, just as in old days I was his officer, he my legionary. It was his duty to obey. Now then, what is he doing?" "Putting the armour together to go in the chest." "Well, quite right." "But it's what he's going to do next, father." "And what is he going to do next?" "Pack up his bundle, and then tramp up into the mountains to lie down and die, for the wolves to pick his bones." It is impossible to put in words the young speaker's tones, mingled, as they were, of sadness, ridicule and mirth, while Cracis drew a deep, long breath and said, softly: "Brave as a lion, strong beyond the limits of ordinary men; and yet, poor faithful Serge, what a child he is at heart! Don't tell him what I said, boy. That is a piece of confidence between ourselves." "But it's all so real, father. If you are angry with me you scold me, and it's soon all over. I forget it all." "Yes, too soon, my boy, sometimes." "Oh, but I do try to go on right, father. But, you see, with poor old Serge it all sticks. He's regularly wounded." "Yes, my boy, I know, and it's the sort of wound that will not heal. Well, of course, that's all absurd. He mustn't go." "He will, father, if something isn't done." "Yes, I am afraid he would; so something must be done. Who is in the wrong, boy--I or he?" "It's this--_I_, father." "Of course," said Cracis, laughing; "but I think I am in the right. The master, if right, cannot humble himself to his man if he is in this position, Marcus. If he is in the wrong it is noble and brave to give way. Tell Serge to come to me at once. I will try to set him at one with me; the sooner this is set aside the better for us all." "Thank you, father," cried the boy, excitedly; and hurrying out he made for the back of the villa, where he found Serge in his own particular den, hard at work packing the various accoutrements, but evidently finding it difficult to make them fit. "Well, I've been and talked to father, Serge," cried Marcus, quickly. "That's right, boy," said the old soldier, without turning his head. "I told him you were packing up the armour." "Yes? Hard work. The things don't lie easy one with another, and we mustn't have the helmets bruised. The shields don't lie so flat as I could wish, but--" "Father wants you, Serge." "What for, boy? What for?" "To talk to you about you know what." "Then you've told him I'm going away?" "Of course." "Then it's of no use for me to go and see him." "But that's what he wishes to speak about." "Yes, and I know how he can talk and get round a man. Why, if I went to his place yonder he'd talk me into stopping, and I'm not going to do that now." "Nonsense! Father only wants to say a few words more. He has forgiven you--I mean, us--and, after he has spoken, everything will be as it was before. He says it's all nonsense about your going away." Serge nodded. "Yes, I knew he'd say that, my boy. Of course he would." "Well," said Marcus, impatiently, "isn't that what you want?" "No, not now, boy. Things can never be the same again." "Why not?" cried Marcus. "Because they can't, boy." "Oh, Serge, don't be so obstinate!" "No, my lad, not obstinate; only doing what's right. I can't help what's done, nor what's said." "But don't stop talking, Serge. Father wants to see you at once." The old soldier shook his head and went on packing with increased vigour. "Well, why don't you go?" cried Marcus, impatiently. "I daren't," said the man, frowning. "Then that's because you feel you're in the wrong, Serge." "Yes, boy, that's it; I'm in the wrong, and the master knows it, so it's of no use for me to go." "Oh, Serge," cried Marcus, "you do make me so angry when you will keep on like this. Look here, Serge." "No," said the man, sourly, "and it's of no use for you to talk, boy, because my mind's made up. You want to talk me round, same as your father, the master, would. I've done wrong, and I told him so. It's all because I tried to make a good soldier of you, as is what Nature meant you to be, and he can't forgive me for that. He couldn't even if he tried. There, that's better--you lie there, and that'll make more room for the boy's helmet. Yes, that'll do. Swords lie on each side under the shields and keep them steady," he continued, apostrophising the different portions of the military equipment, as he worked very rapidly now in spite of Marcus' words, till the whole of the war-like pieces were to his liking and the chest quite full, when he closed the lid and sat upon it as if to think, with his eyes fixed upon one corner of the place. "There, now are you satisfied?" cried Marcus. "Fortunately, father is reading, and he will not notice how long you have been. You've made me horribly impatient. Now go in to him at once and get it over." "I shall only want a little bundle and my staff," said Serge, as if to himself. "That is mine, for I cut it in the forest and shaped and trimmed it myself. Yes, that's all." "Aren't you going to take the chest into father's room?" said Marcus, quietly. "Eh? No, my lad." "But he told you to." "Yes, boy, but it was after all was over, and I can't face him again." "Then you are going off without saying good-bye to him?" The old soldier nodded. "And you are not going in to see him after he has sent for you to come?" "No, boy," said the old soldier, with a sigh. "It's the only way. I'm just going to take my bundle and my stick, and then I'm going off at once--_alone_," he added, meaningly. "No, you're not, Serge, for someone else can be stubborn too." "What do you mean?" cried the man, sharply. "What I told you. I'm coming too." "Nay, boy, you're not; your father would stop that, and you must obey him," cried Serge, angrily. "No, I mustn't," said Marcus. "What! Sons must obey their fathers." "And soldiers must obey their officers." "But he's not my officer now." "Yes, he is," cried Marcus, angrily; "your officer as well as my father. If you go, Serge, I shall go, and I don't care where it is." "He'd never forgive you," cried the old soldier, angrily. "Well, I should take my chance of that. You know me, Serge. When I say I'll do a thing I do it; and I shall do this, for I don't mean to let you go away from here alone. Now what have you got to say?" The old soldier got up from the shut-down lid of the chest, walked to the corner of the room, and took his crook-like staff, to which a rough bundle was already tied, and then he stepped back to where Marcus was seated upon the edge of the table which had so lately borne the armour carefully spread out. "Good-bye, Marcus, boy," he said, holding out his hand. The lad sprang from the table and made for the door. "Won't you say good-bye, Marcus?" cried Serge, pitifully. "No," was the short, sharp reply. "What's the good? But stop a moment. I'd better go and shut up Lupus, or he'll come bounding after us and we shan't get rid of him again." "Oh!" roared the old soldier, angrily, and he dashed his bundle and staff across the room to the corner from which they had been taken. "You're both of you too much for me." "Come on, Serge, old fellow," said Marcus, softly, as he took his old companion by the arm. "Shall I come in to father with you?" "No!" growled Serge. "I'm going to be beat, and I'll go alone." The next minute his steps were heard plodding heavily towards his master's study, and, as he listened Marcus burst out into a merry, silent laugh. "Poor old Serge!" he said. "How father hurt his feelings! He'll never leave us while he lives, but I believe if he had gone away it would have broken his heart. Well, that's all over, and things will be all right again." The boy stood thinking for a few minutes, and then he sighed. "My poor old sword and shield," he said, half aloud; "and the helmet and armour too! Oh, how grand it was! When I had them on I used to feel as if I was marching with a successful army coming from the wars, and now it's all over and I must sit and read and write, and the days will seem so dull with nothing exciting, nothing bright, no war in the future-- Yes, there will be," he cried; "there'll be those boys. They'll be coming on again as the grapes turn black. Yes," he went on, with a merry laugh, "and if they come I'll make some of them turn black. No war! I'll make war with them, with old Serge and Lupus for allies. And then the winter will come again, and there'll be the wolves. Why, there'll be plenty to think of, after all." CHAPTER SEVEN. COMPANY COMES. "I want to go out," said Marcus to himself, one morning, as he sat at the little table exclusively his. There was a small volume, a double roll tied round by a band of silk, his tablets and stylus were before him, the latter quite blank, and the window was open, giving him a glorious view of the distant, sunlit mountains, while the air that was wafted in through the vine leaves was rich in delicious odours that came gratefully to his nostrils. "But I can't go out," he said; "I have all that writing to do, and the first thing when father comes back will be to ask me how much I have done. And here have I been sitting for long enough and have not scratched a word. I wonder how soon he will come?" The boy sat silently for a few minutes watching some twittering young birds that were playing in the garden trees, chasing one another from twig to twig in the full enjoyment of their life in the transparent atmosphere. "I wish I were a bird!" sighed the boy, and then half passionately: "Oh, what a lazy dog I am! I am always longing to be or do something else than what I am. But look at that," he said, dropping into his dreamy way again. "How beautiful it must be to throw oneself off the very top of a tree and go floating and gliding about just where one likes, with no books to study, nothing to write, only play about in the sunshine, covered with clothes of the softest down; no bother about a house to live in or a bed, but just when the sun goes down sing a bit about how pleasant life is as one sits on a twig, and then tuck one's head under one's wing, stick one's feathers up till one looks like a ball, and go to sleep till the Sun rises again. Oh, how glorious to be a bird! Ha, ha, ha!" he cried, with a merry laugh, "Old Serge is right. He says I am a young fool, when he's in the grumps, and I suppose I am to think like that; but it seems a life so free from trouble to be a bird, till a cat comes, or a weasel, or perhaps a snake, and catches one on the ground, or a hawk when one's flying in the air, or one of the noisy old owls when one's roosting in the ivy at night. And then squeak-- scrunch--and there's no more bird. Everything has to work, I suppose, and nothing is able to do just as it pleases. That's what father says, and, of course, it's true; but somehow I should like to go out this morning, but I can't; I have to stick here and write. There's father gone off, and old Serge too. I wonder where he's gone. Right away into the forest, of course, to look after the swine, or else into the fields to see whether something's growing properly, and mind that the men keep to work and are not lying snoozing somewhere in the shade. Oh, how beautiful it looks out of doors!" Marcus sat gazing longingly out of the window, and then apparently, for no reason at all, raised his right hand and gave himself a sharp slap on the side of the head. "Take that, you lazy brute!" he cried. "Of course you can't do your work if you sit staring out of the window. Turn your back to it, sir, and look inside where you will only see the wall. No wonder you can't work." He jumped up quickly, raised his stool, and was in the act of turning it round, giving a final glance through the window before he began to work in earnest, when he stopped short and set down the stool again. "There's somebody coming along the road," he said. "Who's he? Dressed just like father, in his long, white toga. Wonder where he's going, and who he is? Some traveller, I suppose, seeing the country and enjoying himself." The boy stood watching the stranger for a few moments. "Why, where can he be going?" he said. "That path only leads here and to our fields. He can't be coming here, because nobody ever comes to see us, and father doesn't seem to have any friends. Perhaps he wants to see Serge about buying some pigs or corn, or to sell some young goats? Yes, that's it, I should think. He wants to sell something. No; it can't be that; he doesn't look the sort of man. Look at that smooth-shaven face and short-cut hair. He seems quite a patrician, just like father. What can he want? Here, how stupid!" cried the boy, as he saw the stranger stop short a little distance from the villa front and begin to look about him as if admiring the beauty of the place and the distant scene. "I know; he's a traveller, and he's lost his way." Excited by his new thought, Marcus hurried out and down the garden, catching the attention of the stranger at once, who smiled as he looked with the eyes of curiosity at the bright, frank lad, while he took out a handkerchief and stood wiping his dewy face. "Lost your way?" cried Marcus. "Well, not quite," was the reply; "but I know very little of these parts." "I do," said Marcus, "laughing always, and have. I'll show you if you tell me where you want to go." "Thank you," said the stranger, gravely and quietly; and the boy thought to himself once more that he was no dealer or trader, but some patrician on his travels, and he noted more particularly the clear skin, and clean-cut features of a man thoughtful and strong of brain, who spoke quietly, but in the tones of one accustomed to command. "You have a beautiful place here, my boy," he continued, as he looked round and seemed to take in everything; "fields, woodlands, garden. Fruit too--vines and figs. An attractive house too. The calm and quiet of the country--a tired man could live very happily here." "Yes, of course," cried Marcus and with a merry laugh, "a boy too!" "Hah! Yes," said the stranger, smiling also, as he gazed searchingly in the boy's clear eyes. "So you lead a very happy life here, do you?" "Oh yes!" "But not alone?" said the stranger. "Oh no, of course not," cried Marcus. "There's father, and old Serge, and the labourers and servants." "Yes, a very pleasant place," said the stranger, as he once more wiped his dewy face. "You look hot," said the boy. "Come in and sit down for a while and rest. It's nice and shady in my room, and you get the cool breeze from the mountains." "Thank you, my boy, I will," said the stranger, and he followed Marcus through the shady garden and into the lately vacated room, where the boy placed a chair, and his visitor sank into it with a sigh of relief. "Have you walked far?" he asked. "Yes, some distance," was the reply; "but the country is very beautiful, especially through the woodlands, and very pleasant to one who is fresh from the hot and crowded city." "The city!" cried Marcus, eagerly. "You don't mean Rome?" "I do mean Rome," said the visitor, leaning back smiling, and with his eyes half closed, but keenly reading the boy the while. "Have you ever been there?" "Oh no," said Marcus, quickly, "but I know all about it. My father often used to tell me about Rome." "Your father? May I ask who your father is?" "Cracis," said the boy, drawing himself up proudly, as if he felt it an honour to speak of such a man. "He used to live in Rome. You've come from there. Did you ever hear of him?" "Cracis? Cracis? Yes, I have heard the name. Is he at home?" "No; he went out this morning; but I daresay he will be back soon. Serge is out too." "Serge?" said the stranger. "Yes; our man who superintends the farm. He was an old soldier, and knew Rome well. He was in the wars." "Ha!" said the stranger. "And they are both away?" "Yes; but you are tired, sir, and look faint. I'll come back directly." Marcus hurried from the room, but returned almost immediately, laden with a cake of bread, a flask and cup, and a bunch or two of grapes lying in an open basket. "Ha, ha!" said the visitor, smiling. "Then you mean to play the host to a tired stranger?" "Of course," said the boy. "That is what father would do if he were at home." "And the son follows his father's teaching, eh?" Marcus smiled, and busied himself in pouring out a cup of wine and breaking the bread, which he pressed upon his guest, who partook of both sparingly, keenly watching the boy the while. "The rest is good," he said, as he caught the boy's eye, "the room cool and pleasant, and these most refreshing. You will let me rest myself awhile? I might like to see your father when he comes." "Oh, of course," cried the boy. "Father will be very glad, I am sure. We so seldom have anyone to see us here." Quite unconsciously the boy went on chatting, little realising that he was literally answering his visitor's questions and giving him a full account of their life at the villa and farm. He noted how sparingly his visitor ate and drank, and pressed him hospitably to partake of more, but, after a few minutes, the guest responded by smilingly waving the bread and wine aside. "_Quantum sufficit_, my boy," he said; "but I will eat a few of your grapes." He broke off a tiny bunch, and went on talking as he glanced around. "Your studies?" he said, pointing to the tablets and stylus. "And you read?" "Oh yes," said the boy. "My father teaches me. He is a great student." "Indeed?" said the guest. "And are you a great student too?" "No," cried Marcus, merrily; "only a great stupid boy!" "Very," said the visitor, sarcastically. "Well, and what are you going to be when you grow up?" "Oh, a student too, and a farmer, I suppose." "Indeed! Why, a big, healthy, young lad like you ought to be a soldier, and learn to fight for his country, like a true son of Rome." "Hah!" cried Marcus, flushing up and frowning, while the visitor watched him intently. "I knew just such a boy as you who grew up to be a general, a great soldier as well as a student who could use his pen." "Ah, that's what I should like to be," cried the boy, springing from his seat with his eyes flashing, as his imagination seemed fired. "That's what Serge says." "What does Serge say?" asked the visitor. "Just what you do," cried the boy, boldly; "that I might grow up to be a great soldier, and still read and use my pen." "Well, why not?" said the guest, as he slowly broke off and ate a grape. The boy frowned and shook his head. "It is a man's duty to be ready to draw his sword for his country like a brave citizen, and that country's son," continued the guest, warmly, while the boy watched him eagerly, and leaned forward with one hand resting upon the table as if he was drinking in every word that fell from the other's lips. "Yes, that's what Serge says," he cried, "and that it is a great and noble thing for a man to be ready to die for his country if there is any need." "But it is pleasanter to live, my boy," said the visitor, smiling, "and to be happy with those we love, with those whom we are ready to defend against the enemy. You must be a soldier, then--a defender of your land." "No," said the boy, quickly, and he gave his head a quick shake. "It can never be." "Why?" "Because my father says `no.'" The visitor raised his brows a little, and then, leaning forward slightly to gaze into the boy's eyes, he said, softly: "Why does your father say that?" "Because people are ungrateful and jealous and hard, and would ill-use me, the same as they did him and drove him away from Rome." The visitor tightened his lips and was silent, sitting gazing past the boy and through the window, so full of thought that he broke off another grape, raised it to his lips, and then threw it through the opening into a tuft of flowers beyond. "Ah!" he said, at last, as his eyes were turned again towards the boy. "And so you are going to live here then, and only be a student?" "Of course," said the boy, proudly. "It is my father's wish." "And you know nothing, then, about a soldier's life?" "Oh, yes, I do," cried the boy, with his face lighting up. "Hah! Then your father has taught you to be a soldier and man?" "Oh, no; he has taught me to read and write. It was some one else who taught me how to use a sword and spear." "Hah!" cried the visitor, quickly. "Then you are not all a student?" "Oh, no." "You know how to use a sword?" "Yes," said Marcus, laughing, "and a spear and shield as well," and, warming up, the boy began to talk quickly about all he had learned, ending, to his visitor's great interest, with a full account of his training in secret and his father's discovery and ending of his pursuits. "Well, boy," said the guest, at last, "it seems a pity." "For me to tell you all this?" cried Marcus, whose face was still flushed with excitement. "Yes, I oughtn't to have spoken and said so much, but somehow you questioned me and seemed to make me talk." "Did I?" said the visitor. "Well, I suppose I did; but what I meant was that it seems a pity that so promising a lad should only be kept to his books. But there, a good son is obedient to his father, and his duty is to follow out his commands." "Yes," said the boy, stoutly, "and that's what Serge says." "Then he doesn't want you to be a soldier now?" "No," cried the boy. "He says one of the first things a soldier learns is to obey." "Ah!" said the visitor, looking at the boy with his quiet smile. "I should like to know this old soldier, Serge." "You soon can," said the boy, laughing. "Here he comes!" For at that moment there was the deep bark of a dog. "The dog?" said the visitor. "Oh, that's our wolf-hound, Lupe. It means that Serge is coming back." The boy had hardly spoken when the man's step was heard outside, and, directly after, as Marcus' guest sat watching the door, it was thrust open, and the old soldier entered, saying: "Has the master come back, my lad?" and started back, staring at the sight of the stranger. "Not yet, Serge. This is a gentleman, a traveller from Rome, who is sitting down to rest." Serge drew himself up with a soldierly salute, which was received with dignity, and, as eyes met, the stranger looked the old warrior through and through, while Serge seemed puzzled and suspicious, as he slowly raised his hand and rubbed his head. "Yes," said the visitor, "your young master has been playing the kindly host to a weary man. Why do you look at me so hard? You know my face?" "No," said Serge, gruffly; "no. But I think I have seen someone like you before." "And I," said the visitor, "have seen many such like you, but few who bear such a character as your young master gives." "Eh?" cried Serge, sharply. "Why, what's he been saying about me?" "Told me what a brave old soldier you have been." "Oh! Oh! Stuff!" growled Serge, sourly. "And of how carefully you have taught him the duties of a soldier, and told him all about the war." "There!" cried Serge, angrily, stepping forward to bring his big, hairy fist down upon the table with a thump. "I don't know you, or who you are, but you have come here tired, and been given refreshment and rest, and, instead of being thankful, you have been putting all sorts of things in this boy's head again that he ought to have forgot." "Serge! Serge!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "Mind what you are saying! This is a stranger, and a noble gentleman from Rome." "I don't care who he is," replied the old soldier, fiercely. "He's no business to be coming here and talking like this. Now, look here, sir," he continued, turning upon the visitor, who sat smiling coldly with his eyes half closed, "this lad's father, my old officer--and a better never stepped or led men against Rome's enemies--gave me his commands, and they were these: that young Marcus here was to give up all thoughts of soldiering and war, and those commands, as his old follower, I am going to carry out. So, as you have eaten and are rested, the sooner you go on your journey the better, and leave us here at peace." "Serge!" cried Marcus, firmly; and he drew himself up with his father's angry look, "you mean well, and wish to do your duty, but this is not the way to speak to a stranger and my father's guest." "He's not your father's guest, my lad, but yours, and he's taken upon himself to say to you what he shouldn't say, and set you against your father's commands." "Even if he has, Serge, he must be treated as a guest--I don't know your name, sir," continued the boy, turning to the visitor, "but in my father's name I ask you to forgive his true old servant's blunt, honest speech." The visitor rose, grave and stern. "It is forgiven, my boy," he said; "for after hearing what he has said I can only respect him for his straightforward honesty. My man, I am an old soldier too. I regret that I have spoken as I did, and I respect you more and more. Rome lost a brave soldier when you left her ranks. Will you shake hands?" Serge drew back a little, and looked puzzled. "Yes, give me your hand," said the visitor. "I am rested and refreshed, but I am not yet going away. I am going to stay and see Cracis, who was once my dear old friend." "You knew my master?" cried Serge, with the puzzled look deepening in his eyes. "Thoroughly," was the reply, "and we have fought together in the past. He will forgive me what I have said, as I do you, and I shall tell him when he comes how glad I am to see that he has such a son and is so bravely served." For answer the old soldier hesitatingly took the proffered hand, and then gladly made his retreat, the pair following him slowly out into the shady piazza, where they stood watching till he disappeared, when the visitor, after glancing round, gathered his toga round him, and sank down into a stone seat, beside one of the shadow-flecked pillars, frowning heavily the while. "He means well, sir," said Marcus, hastily; "but I'm sure my father would have been sorry if he had heard. I am glad, though, that I asked you in." "Why?" said the visitor, with a peculiar look in his eyes. "Because you say you are an old friend of his, and, of course, I didn't know. It was only out of civility that I did so." "Yes, so I suppose," was the reply. "Poor fellow! Your man meant well," continued the visitor, with his whole manner changed, and he spoke in a half-mocking, cynical way which puzzled and annoyed the boy. "A poor, weak, foolish fellow, though, who hardly understands what he meant. Don't you think he was very weak, bull-headed and absurd?" "Well--no," said the boy, quickly, and his face began to flush, and grew the deeper in tint as he noticed a supercilious, mocking smile playing upon the visitor's lips. "Serge is a very true, honest fellow, and thought he was doing right." "Yes, of course," said the other, "but some people in meaning to do right often commit themselves and do great wrong." "But you knew my father well?" said Marcus, hastily, to change the conversation. "I never heard him mention you." "No, I suppose not," said the visitor, thoughtfully, but with a mocking smile upon his lip growing more marked as he went on. "I don't suppose he would ever mention me. A very good, true fellow, Cracis, and, as I said, we were once great friends. But a weak and foolish man who got into very great trouble with the Senate and with me. There was great trouble at the time, and I had to defend him." "You had to defend my father?" said Marcus, turning pale, and with a strange sensation rising in his breast. "What for?" "Why, there was that charge of cowardice--the retreat he headed from the Gaulish troops," continued the visitor, watching the boy intently all the while. "He was charged with being a coward, and--" "It was a lie!" cried the boy, fiercely. "You know it was a lie. My father is the bravest, truest man that ever lived, and you who speak so can be no friend of his. Old Serge was right, for he saw at once what kind of man you are. How dare you speak to me like that! Go, sir! Leave this house at once." "Go, boy?" said the visitor, coldly, and with a look of suppressed anger gathering in his eyes. "And suppose that I refuse to go at the bidding of such a boy as you?" "Refuse?" cried Marcus, fiercely. "You dare to refuse?" "Yes, boy, I refuse. And what then?" "This!" cried the boy, overcome with rage, and, raising his hand, he made a dash as if about to strike, just as a step was heard, and, calmly and thoughtfully, Cracis walked out into the piazza. CHAPTER EIGHT. THAT GREAT MAN. For a few moments there was utter silence, Cracis looking as if stunned, and a slight colour beginning to appear in the visitor's pallid cheeks as he stood gazing at Marcus' father, waiting for him to speak, while Cracis after catching his son's wrist and snatching him back, and without taking his eyes from their visitor, found words at last to speak. "Are you mad, boy?" he exclaimed, hoarsely. "Do you know who this is?" "No, father," cried the boy, passionately, "only that he is a man who has dared to speak ill of you." "Ah!" said Cracis, slowly, and with his face softening, as he pressed the boy's arm; and then, in a voice full of dignity and pride: "May I ask why Caius Julius has condescended to visit my humble home?" "I have come as a friend, Cracis," was the reply. "To continue your old enmity, and in mine absence revile me to my son?" "Revile? Nonsense!" cried his visitor. "It was by accident. I came, and found you away, and reviled you?--no! I was but speaking to try your brave and spirited boy. I never for a moment thought that he would fire up as he did with all his father's spirit and readiness to resent a wrong." "Indeed?" said Cracis, coldly. "Indeed," replied the visitor. "Only a few minutes ago I was telling your boy how that once we were the greatest of friends. Did I not?" he said quickly, turning to Marcus. "Yes, father, that is right," cried Marcus. "He praised you very highly at first, and said he was your friend." "My friend!" said Cracis, bitterly. "My greatest enemy, he meant." "I was, Cracis, in the past. In my ignorance and pride it was only after we had parted that I learned all that I had lost in my separation from my bravest colleague, my truest and wisest counsellor." "And now," said Cracis, coldly, "you have found out the truth and have tracked me to my home to accuse me with some base invention to my son." "Believe me, no!" cried Julius, warmly, and he held out his hand. "Cracis, after much thought and battling with my pride, the pride that has come with the position to which I have climbed, I have mastered self so as to come humbly to my oldest and best friend." "Why?" said Cracis. "Because you are the only man I know whose counsel I can respect, and in whom I could fully trust." "My greatest enemy comes to me to utter words like these, in the presence of my son?" "Yes, and I am proud that he should hear them, so that he may fully understand that, when I spoke to him lightly as I did, it was but to test him, to try his spirit, to see whether he was fully worthy to bear his great father's name." Cracis was silent for a few moments, gazing searchingly into his visitor's eyes, which met his frankly and without blenching. "Is this the truth?" said Cracis, sternly. "The simple truth. Cracis, we were great friends once, and later the greatest enemies; but in all those troubles of the past did we ever doubt each other's words?" "Never," said Cracis, proudly. "But there is a reason for all this-- something more than a late repentance for the injuries you have done me in the years that have gone. I ask you again--why have you come?" "For our country's sake. I have climbed high since we parted, but only to stand more and more alone, till now, perhaps at the most critical period of my life, I have been forced to look around me for help, for a man in whom I can place implicit trust, who will give me his counsel in the State, and stand beside me in the perils that lie ahead. Cracis, there is only one man in whom I could trust like that, one only who would bare his sword and fight bravely by my side, and you are he." Cracis was silent as he shook his head slowly and turned his eyes away from his visitor, to let them rest upon his son's upturned face, as the boy gazed at him in wonder and astonishment at what he heard. "You do not believe me," cried Julius. "You think that something is underlying all this," and he spoke with deep earnestness, his voice broken and changed. "Yes," said Cracis; "I cannot do otherwise. I do believe you--every word." "Then why do you speak so coldly and calmly, when I come to you penitent, to humble myself to you and ask your help?" "I speak coldly like this," said Cracis, "because I am fighting hard to beat down the feelings of pride and triumph that the time has come when he who drove me from my high position in Rome has sought me out to make so brave and manly an appeal, for, knowing you as I do to the very core, I can feel the battle that you must have had with self before you stooped--you, great general as you are--to come and tell me that you need my help." "Stooped!" cried the other. "No, Cracis, that is an ill-chosen word. It is that I have mastered self and cast away all pride and weakness so that I might come to you and say: `For the sake of the old times, help me in this bitter pass, so fraught with peril as it is'; and say, `I forgive the bygones, and be to me as my brother once again.'" Cracis was silent, and stood drawing his son closer to him so that he could rest his arm upon the boy's shoulder, while his visitor stood before him with his white robe gathered up so as to leave free his extended arm. For a few minutes neither spoke, and from the garden there came loud and clear the joyous trilling of the birds. "You do not take my hand," said Caius Julius, passionately. "No, not yet," said Cracis; "but do not mistake me. There is no bitterness or pride left in my breast. That died out years ago. I am only thinking." "Ha!" cried his visitor, with a sigh of relief, "and forgetting the courtesy due to a long-estranged friend." "Caius Julius, sit down. You are welcome to my simple, humble home. Marcus, my boy, you can believe that all our visitor said was to try his old friend's son to see of what metal he was made. He is a man who, for years past, has found the necessity of testing those he would have to trust, of placing them in the balance to try their worthiness and weight. Boy, we are honoured to-day by the presence of Rome's greatest son, your father's oldest friend, then his greatest enemy, and now, in the fulness of time, his brother once again." As he spoke he took a step forward with extended hands, which the future conqueror of the world clasped at once in his own, and once more there was silence in the room. A minute later Cracis drew back and motioned to his son, who, earnest and alert, stepped forward, to find himself clasped to their visitor's breast, before he was released, to draw back wondering whether he liked or hated this man of whose prowess he had heard so much, and stood gazing at him wonderingly, as Julius, the Caesar yet to be, sank back, quivering with emotion, in the nearest seat. A few minutes later Marcus stood trying to catch his father's eye, for he too had sunk into a chair and sat back gazing away through the open window at the sunlit hills. At last he turned his eye upon his son and read the question in his speaking face. "Yes, boy," he said, "you may leave us now. My old friend has much to say, and I too have much to think. Go and see that proper preparations are made for our guest. You will honour us--No," he continued, with a pleasant smile, as he turned to his guest, "we are very simple here, but you will be welcome and stay here to-night." "Gladly," cried Julius, eagerly. "Believe me, I shall be proud, for I have gained my ends." "Not yet," said Cracis, gravely. "It means so much, and I must have the night to think. There, Marcus, boy, you know what should be done. Leave us for a while." The boy hurried away, to seek the servants, and then to make for Serge, but checked himself before he was half way to his old companion's room. "Not yet," he said. "How do I know that I ought to speak?" And he drew back with a feeling of relief on seeing that the old soldier was right away crossing one of the fields. "It would not have been right without speaking to my father first," thought Marcus. "I wonder what they are saying now?" CHAPTER NINE. THE OLD ARMOUR. When Marcus went to bed his habit was to drop his head upon his pillow, close his eyes in the darkness, and, as it seemed to him, open them the next minute to find it was broad daylight, and spring out of bed; but, almost for the first time in his life, he, that night, lay tossing about, thinking how hot it was, getting in and out of bed to open the window wider or to close it again, changing from side to side, and trying as hard as he possibly could to go off to sleep; and, even when at last he succeeded, it seemed that he had suddenly plunged into a new state of wakefulness in which he was listening to Caius Julius and then quarrelling with him. Then his father seemed mixed up with his dream, and all kinds of the wildest imaginings came forming processions through his fevered brain. Armies of barbarians were marching to attack Rome. His father was a great warrior and general once again, fighting to save his country. Then he was the quiet student once more in his white toga, chiding him for his love of arms and armour; and, directly after, Serge seemed to come upon the scene, to catch their strange visitor by the ankle with his crook and threaten to thrash him for breaking down the fir-poles and stealing the grapes. From dreams peopled in this incongruous way the boy woke up again and again, making up his mind that he would not go to sleep any more to be worried by what he termed such a horrible muddle. The night, which generally passed so quickly, seemed as if it would never end, and when at last he did start up from perhaps the worst and most exciting dream of all, to find that the sun was just about to rise, he sprang off his bed with a sigh of relief, dressed, and went out into the garden to have what he called a good rest. His intention was to go round to the back and rouse up Serge, not to make any confidence, but just to have a talk about the coming of the visitor and the surly reception the old soldier had given to his father's friend; but, before he had gone many yards, a gleam of something white amongst the trees caught his attention, and he found himself face to face with his father. "You out so soon?" he cried, in astonishment. "Yes, boy; it has been no time for sleep. I have had too much to think about." "But, father--" began the boy. Cracis held up his hand. "Wait," he said. "Our visitor, Marcus, seems to have been as sleepless as I; here he comes." For at the same moment they caught sight of Caius Julius leaving the doorway; and, upon seeing them, he came quickly to join them, with extended hand. The rest of that morning seemed afterwards one whirl of confusion to Marcus, in which he could recall his father's words to their visitor, and his quiet, grave declaration of how much it meant to him to have to give up his calm and peaceful home and its surroundings to plunge at once into the toil, excitement and care of public life. Marcus recalled too how, divining how they seemed to wish to be alone, he had left them pacing up and down beneath the shading vines, talking earnestly, while he consoled himself by joining Serge, who was in as great a state of excitement as himself and literally pelted him with questions which he could not answer, making the old soldier turn from him fiercely after telling him that he might speak out if he liked, instead of being so obstinate and refusing to trust him with what he knew. Serge went off in high dudgeon, while, hardly giving him a thought, Marcus strolled back towards the garden in the hope that his father would take some notice of him and call him to his side. It was then approaching mid-day, and this time he was not disappointed, for, as soon as the boy appeared, Cracis signed to him to approach. "Come here, Marcus," he said; and the boy noticed that their visitor smiled at him in a satisfied way. "I am going away, my boy," he said, "to leave our quiet little home, on very serious business." "Soon, father?" cried Marcus, excitedly, as his father stopped short. "Very soon, boy--now--at once. That is, as soon as I can make my preparations." Marcus drew a deep breath. "You are going to follow--him?" "I am going with my old friend Caius Julius." "And you'll take me with you, father?" Cracis was silent for a few moments, and he sighed deeply as he laid his hand upon his son's head. "No, my boy; I must leave you behind. I am going to take part in a great struggle." "A great struggle, father? You don't mean a war?" "Yes, my boy, I do mean a war." "Oh!" exclaimed Marcus, and he turned sharply upon their visitor, looking the question he longed to put, while Caius Julius met his eyes and bowed in silence. "You are too young," said Cracis, slowly; "and now I want you to help me for the short time I am here making my preparations." "Yes, father," cried the boy, in a choking voice; "but I should like for you to--" "Yes," said Cracis, interrupting him and speaking very firmly, "I know what you would say--take you with me--but it cannot be. Now, Marcus, you are only a boy, but I want you to let my old friend see that you can act like a man. Do you understand?" "Yes, father." "Then look here, my boy. I reproved you and Serge rather harshly the other day for what you had done--Serge especially, for treasuring up and keeping in order my old war-like gear; but Marcus, one never knows what Fate has in store for us. I could not foresee, neither, for that matter, could he, what was so soon to come, but he did quite right. Now then," he continued, sharply, "away with you at once, and get out all the arms that I shall want, for I cannot leave here as student, but as a soldier once again. You understand?" Marcus nodded, quickly. He could not trust himself to speak. "Go to my room then, at once, to the big, old chest. Stop!" he cried, when Marcus was half way to the door. "Serge knows better than you. Call him and take him with you to help you lay out what I shall require. That will do. At once." His brain whirling with excitement, his heart sinking with disappointment and despair, Marcus ran into the house, striving to make duty conquer all, his first effort being to drag his thoughts from self and condense them upon the task he had in hand. "Where shall I find Serge?" he muttered. "He'll be gone off somewhere in the fields. Which way had I better go?" The question had hardly formed itself in his brain as he was hurrying across the little court where the fountain played, when the big, burly figure of the old soldier stopped his way. "Want me, boy?" he cried, hoarsely. "Yes, Serge. Father is going away at once." "With that Caius Julius?" cried the old soldier. "I know him now. It seemed to come to me like this morning when I woke. What does it mean then? The master a prisoner?" "No, Serge; he's going with him to the war. But come, quickly!" he added, as the man stood staring at him as if struck speechless with wonderment. "Don't talk--don't ask me questions. Father wants his weapons and his armour at once. Come on. You are to help me get them ready." The old soldier was standing before him with his herdsman's staff in his hand as if ready to go off round the farm, and, drawing himself up, he grasped the stout crook in both his hands, bent down, placed one knee against it, and, with one effort of his great strength, snapped it across his knee as if it were a twig and threw the pieces from him with a gesture of contempt. "Hah!" he cried, with a deep expiration of his breath. "At last, boy! The master is going to be himself again. There, don't talk to me! I know! I have lain awake, boy, cursing that Caius Julius for coming here to disturb the master's quiet life. He was his enemy always, and I could see nothing in it but ill--blind fool that I was! I can bless him now. Come on, boy! I know! Who was right now in keeping the swords sharp and the armour bright?" The next minute the great chest had been dragged out into the middle of Cracis' room and the old soldier was down upon his knees joyously unpacking the war-like equipments that he had so sadly stowed away so short a time before. They were all mingled together so as to make them fit and the great chest contain them all, and as, taking the lead, Serge worked on, it was with a rapid touch that he sorted the three suits, giving each its place, his own armour and weapons, the more handsomely furnished appertaining to his master, and those of the boy, which had been fitted in. The two former portions he laid to right and left, and, as he drew them forth, he sent pang after pang through the breast of Marcus, for it seemed to him that Serge laid his father's offensive and defensive pieces of accoutrement together with almost reverent care, banging his own together heavily, while, as he dislodged those portions that had been prepared and fitted with such pride to suit the youth who wore them, they were pitched carelessly upon the bed to clash and jingle as if in protest at being looked upon now, when reality ruled the occasion, as toys and of no account. "Ah!" cried the old soldier, as, when he had nearly finished, he drew out from the bottom of the chest the smallest of the shields and pitched it so that it fell upon Cracis' pillow, suggesting to Marcus that the man meant that it should lie there in his master's absence and sleep; but Serge saw nothing of Marcus' agitated countenance, for he was gazing into the future. "Here we are," he cried, as he lifted out his own and Cracis' shields together, to stand them up on edge so that he could separate them, for the loops and handles were tightly wedged together so that they seemed loth to come apart. "How soon will he be coming here for me to gird him up?" "Directly, he said, Serge," replied the boy. "Then you look sharp, my lad, and put those things of yours back into the chest out of the way. I shall be wanting him to sit there while I fasten some of his buckles and straps. To think of its coming to this again!" he cried, joyously. "Why, how many years is it since I did it last? Why, you were a little toddling boy, and here you are getting on to be a man--man enough, Marcus, to help me and buckle on and hitch together some of the slides and studs when I dress myself." Marcus nodded, with a look of despair and envy in his eyes, while the old soldier bent down, caught up his old legionary helmet from the floor, gave it a slap with one hand, and then placed it upon his head, to draw himself up proudly before the boy, and give his foot a stamp, as he struck an attitude and cried: "Burn my old straw hat, Marcus, when I am gone. This fits me again like a shell does one of the old white snails, and makes me feel like a soldier and a man again, instead of a herdsman and a serf." He had hardly finished speaking when the door was thrown open, and as if imbued by his old follower's feelings, Cracis, no longer in his movements the calm, grave student, but the general and leader of men once more, strode quickly into the room and stopped short as the old soldier drew himself up motionless in his helmet, stiffly awaiting his officer's next command. It seemed to Marcus, too, no longer his calm, grave father who, the next moment, spoke as he raised one hand and pointed at the helmet his man had donned. "What is the meaning of this, Serge?" he said, sternly. "Only the thought of old times, general," cried Serge, sharply, and to Marcus the man's manner struck him as being completely changed, for he spoke shortly and bluntly, standing up as stiff and erect as before, and then in his misery and disappointment there was something very near akin to malicious triumph as his father said, sternly: "Tut, man! Take that off! Did you think you were going too?" Serge's jaw dropped. CHAPTER TEN. LEFT BEHIND. "Not going too, master?" cried Serge, as soon as he could recover himself from a verbal blow which had, for the moment, seemed to crush him down; and, as Marcus heard the hopeless despair in the poor fellow's tones, the feeling of malicious triumph in his breast died away. "No," said Cracis, firmly; "your duty lies here." "Lies here, master?" stammered Serge. "Yes, man, here. Whom am I to leave in charge of my home? Who is to protect my son if I take you with me?" "Home--Son?" faltered Serge. "But you, master--who is to protect you if your old follower is left behind?" "I must protect myself, Serge," said Cracis, and his voice lost for the moment the hard, firm sternness of the soldier. "Your duty is here, Serge, and I look to you to carry it out. I leave you a greater charge than that of following and trying to shield me." "No, no, master, no!" cried the old soldier, passionately. "I was with you always. I followed you through the wars, and I've stood by you like a man in peace. Once my master always my master while you could trust me, and it must be so still." "No, Serge," cried Cracis, sternly. "I have told you your duty and now give you your orders. Protect my property; watch over my son till my return, if I ever do return," he added, sadly; "and if I fall, your place is still here to stand by my son and follow him as you have followed me." "But you will not let me follow you, master!" cried Serge, passionately. "Oh, master, master! Young Marcus isn't a suckling; he's big and strong enough to fend himself. I've been waiting all these years for you to take your place as a soldier and a general once again! Don't-- pray don't leave me behind!" "Serge," said Cracis, sternly, "you have led these years of peace, but recollect that you are a soldier still. Man, your officer has given you your orders--Obey!" As Marcus gazed at their old follower he seemed to have suddenly grown old. His face was wrinkled, and the skin appeared to hang, while a piteous look of despair filled his eyes as, throwing out his hands towards one who seemed to him to be delivering his death sentence, he fell heavily upon his knees and poured forth: "There, there, master, here's your sword, keener and brighter than ever. Draw it and put me out of my misery at once. I won't say a word, only give you a last look like that of a faithful hound who has died in your service. Kill me at once, and let that be the end, but now that you are coming to your rights again after all these weary years of waiting, and are going to fight for brave old Rome, don't throw me over as if I was a helpless log. Think what it means to an old soldier who never turned his back upon an enemy in his life. Use your sword on me, master, if you feel that I'm not the man to draw my own again; but don't--pray don't leave me behind!" Marcus felt ready to join his petition to that of the old soldier, but he could not speak, only stand and listen to his father's words, as he stepped forward to lay his hand upon the man's shoulder. "Serge," he said, in a voice full of emotion--"brave old follower--true old friend, I could sternly order you to obey my commands, but I can only beg of you as you do of me. Rise up, man, and hear me. I would gladly take you with me and have you always at my back, but we cannot do everything we would. In my absence, Serge, your place is here to protect my boy. It is your duty, and perhaps the last command I shall ever give you, for the Gauls are stout warriors and it is no child's play that takes me from my home. I beg, then, as well as order. Stay and protect my son." "But you don't know, master, how you may be surrounded by enemies ready to strike at you." "No," said Cracis, firmly, and there was a ring of command in his tones. "Neither do I know how closely my boy may be hemmed in, and I want to leave here with the peaceful feeling that, whatever happens, my son has one beside him that I can always trust. Your duty, Serge, is here, and I leave Marcus in your charge. Now, no more save this: Rise up like my trusted servant. Duty calls me away, not only as a counsellor, but also as one of my country's generals. Now help me with my armour, for I go forth to fight. There have been words enough. Take the example of my son. He feels the bitterness of being left behind as much as you. Now, quick! We have lost too much time already. Caius Julius awaits my coming, and my heart is burning to be free from all this suffering and mental pain. Marcus, my boy, help him. It is the first time I ever asked you to arm me as a soldier. Quick, boy, and let us get it done." Marcus sprang to his father's side, while, heavy and slow, Serge, as he rose, tottered here and there as he busied himself over a task that had not fallen to him for many long years, while a faint groan of misery escaped his lips from time to time before the last metal loop had been forced over its stud and then drawn into its place, the last buckle drawn tight, and the armed cheek-straps of the great Robin helmet passed beneath the general's chin. These final preparations made, Cracis stood, grave and thoughtful, asking himself whether there was anything more he wished to do, anything in the way of orders to give his servant and his son before he left his home. "Leave me now, Marcus," he said. "I wish to be alone for a while. Well," he continued, as the boy stood frowning and looking at him wistfully, "why do you stay? You want to ask me something before I go?" These words stirred the boy into action, and he started to his father's side; but, though his lips parted, no words came. "The time is gliding away, Marcus, my boy," said Cracis, sadly. "Come, speak out. You want to ask some favour before I go?" "Yes, father, but after what you have said I hardly dare," cried the boy, hoarsely. "Speak out, my son, boldly and bravely," said Cracis. "What is it you wish to say?" "That there is yet time, father, before you go." "Time for what?" said Cracis, frowning as if he grasped what his son was about to say. "Time for you to withdraw your command," cried the boy, desperately. "Father, I can't help it; I could not stay behind here with you leaving home for the wars. You must take me with you after all." Cracis frowned heavily. "Is this my son speaking?" he said, harshly. "After the commands I have given you--after the way in which I have arranged for you to represent me here, and take my place in all things? Where are all my teachings about duty--have all flown to the winds?" "No, no, father," cried the boy, passionately; "but you cannot tell how I feel. You do not know what it is to be left alone, and for me to see you go." "You are wrong, my boy; I do know," cried Cracis; "and I may answer you and say, neither do you know what it is for me to give up my happy home and all belonging to me, to go hence never to return." "Oh, I do, I do, father! I can feel that it must be terrible," cried the boy, excitedly; "but there is no need for you to go alone. I know how young I am, but I could be of great help to you. I am sure I could. So pray, pray don't leave me behind." "Is that all you have to say, Marcus?" said Cracis, sternly. "Ye-e-es, father," faltered the boy, in a despairing tone, for he could read plainly enough in his father's eyes that his appeal had been in vain. "Then leave me now, boy, and do not make my task harder by speaking like this again. I have my duty to do towards my country and my home. My duty to my country is to follow Caius Julius in the great venture he is about to attempt; my duty to my home and son is to leave you here and not expose you, at your age, to the horrors of this war." "But father!" cried the boy, wildly. "Silence, boy!" said Cracis, firmly. "Obey me. I will hear no more. Go!" Marcus' lips parted to make one more appeal, but, as his eyes met his father's where Cracis stood pointing towards the door, his own fell again, and feeling mastered, crushed in his despair, he moved slowly towards the door, his heart seeming to rise to his throat to strangle him in the intense emotion from which he suffered; but, as soon as he was outside, his elastic young spirit seemed to spring up again, and he hurried to his room, to stand there thinking, with the resolve to make one more strong effort to move his father's determination. "He does not--he cannot know what I feel," he said to himself with energy. "I did not half try. I should have thrown myself at his feet and prayed to him. No, no," said the boy, mournfully, as he felt more and more the hopelessness of his cause. "It would have been no good. Father is like iron in his will; he is so strong, I am so weak--He a great man--I only a poor, feeble boy to be left behind to mind the house, as if I were a girl! Oh, it's of no use; I must stay--I must stay!" he half groaned, in his despair. "When perhaps I might help him so, I and Serge, when he was in the fight, or--oh, if he were wounded! Suppose he were cut down and bleeding, perhaps dying, and I not there to help him! Oh, it's of no use to despair; I must--I will go. I know! I'll appeal to Caius Julius; he will hear me, I feel sure." Full of enthusiasm once more, he hurried out of his room to seek for the visitor, who had wrought such a change in their quiet home; but, as he caught sight of him pacing slowly up and down the little inner court close to the fountain, the boy's heart failed him again, for he recalled the angry passage that had taken place between them the previous day-- their visitor's half-mocking words, and his own burst of passion, which had roused him into forgetting the sacred rites of hospitality and raising his hand to strike. "I can't ask him; I dare not beg him to intercede," thought Marcus. "He would only jeer at me for being a boy, and put me out of temper again. But I must," he said. "It is for father's sake. Yes, I will. Why should I mind? Let him laugh at me if he likes." Raising his courage he was on his way to their visitor's side when Caius Julius turned and caught sight of the approaching boy. "Ah, Marcus," he said; "is your father nearly ready to go?" "Yes," cried the boy, "but--" He stopped short, for the words refused to come. "Well, what were you about to say?" said Julius, frowning. "Your father is not going to repent?" "Repent? About me?" cried the boy, excitedly. "About you, boy? Why should he repent about you?" "And let me go with him," cried Marcus, excitedly, as, forgetting all his dislike, he caught his father's visitor by the robe and spoke eagerly and well. "I want to go with him to the war." "You? To fight?" "Yes; I know I am young and weak--Yes, I know, only a boy, but I shall grow strong, and it is not only to fight. I want to be there to help him. He might be sick or wounded. He says I must stay at home here, but I appeal to you. You can tell him how useful I could be. You will tell him, sir, for I feel that I ought not--that I cannot stay here and let him go alone." "Well spoken, my brave boy!" cried Caius Julius. "Spoken like a man! So you, young as you are, would go with us?" "Yes, yes, of course," cried Marcus, in his wild excitement, as he listened to this encouraging reception of his appeal. "I think I could fight; but even if I could not there is so much that I could do." "And you would not feel afraid?" cried Julius, catching the boy by the arm. "No--yes--no--I do not know," said the boy, colouring. "I hope not." "You do not know the horrors of a battlefield, boy," said Julius, fixing Marcus with his keen eyes. "No," said Marcus, thoughtfully; "it must be very terrible, but I do not think I should shrink. I should be thinking so much of my father." "Well, honestly and modestly spoken, boy," said Julius. "Why, you make me feel full of confidence in your becoming as brave and great a man as your father." "Oh no, sir," replied Marcus, sadly. "No one could be so great and brave a man as he." "But you would follow us into the middle of the battle's horrors?" "Yes, sir, I would indeed; indeed I would," cried Marcus, eagerly. "I believe you, my boy, and all the more for your simple honesty of speech." "And you will prevail upon my father to let me go?" cried Marcus, appealingly. "I do not know," said Julius, thoughtfully. "You say that you have begged hard and your father says that you must stay?" "Yes," cried Marcus, "but you have the power, sir, and you will speak to him and tell him that he must take me?" cried Marcus. Julius shook his head. "Let me see," he said; "you told me that you would try to be brave." Marcus felt that his hopes were vain, but he spoke out desperately: "Yes, I would indeed try to be as brave and firm as I could." "I know you would, boy, but remember this: it is very brave to be obedient to those who are in authority over you," said Julius. "A good son obeys his father, and Cracis has given you his commands to stay here, has he not?" "Yes," cried Marcus, desperately; "but I was sure that I could be of the greatest help." "I believe that you would try to be," said Julius, gravely; "but, my boy, I cannot fight for you in this and oppose your father's commands. Be brave and do your duty here. Put up with the disappointment and wait. Time flies fast, boy, and you will be a man sooner than you expect--too soon perhaps for the golden days of youth. No, my boy, I cannot interfere. You must obey your father's commands." "Oh," cried Marcus, passionately, "and suppose he is stricken down, to lie helpless on the field?" Julius shrugged his shoulders, and at that moment the voice of Cracis was heard summoning the boy, who turned away hanging his head in his despair. Marcus turned to meet his father, who looked at him wondering to see him there, and bringing the colour to the boy's cheeks, so guilty did he feel, as, with his cloak over his arm, Cracis drew his son to him to press him to his mailed breast, held out his hand to Serge, and then strode forward with heavy tread to join his old military companion, who was now slowly bending over the side of the fountain, into whose clear surface he kept on lowering the white tips of his fingers so that one or the other of the little fish that glided about within the depths might dart at them and apply its lips in the belief that something was offered to it fit for food. Caius Julius rose up slowly as he heard the heavy tramp of his friend's armoured feet upon the paved floor, and took in his appearance with a smile of satisfaction. "You are ready, then?" he said. "Yes," was the laconic reply. "Then nothing remains but for you to take your farewell of my brave young friend, your defender when I ventured to try his faith." "That is done," said Cracis, gravely; "and as Rome awaits my coming, lead the way." "But I have not said my valediction to your son, Cracis, and it is this: Wait, Marcus, my brave boy. Some day perhaps I may come to you as I have come to your father to ask your help. Better still, send him, full of the honours he has won, to bring his son to Rome. Till then, farewell." Marcus felt the touch of their visitor's hands and heard his words, but he could not speak, only stand side by side with Serge, who looked older and more bent than when he first learned the truth that he was to stay behind; but the boy had no thought at the moment but of the father who was going away to face peril as well as to strike for glory and his country's welfare. He could only follow the pair of Rome's great men as, side by side, they passed out of the open court where the fountain played and the water that sparkled like diamonds in the bright sunshine fell back into the basin with a musical splashing sound. A minute later and Cracis with his companion passed out through the porched entry into the tree-shaded road, the grave, white-robed leader and the well-armed general with his shield, which flashed and turned off a shower of keen darts which came from on high, as he turned once to wave his hand to his son. At that moment there was a low, deep bay, and the great wolf-dog, which had caught sight of his master, bounded from the shadow where he had crouched to avoid the flies, and, seeing the two strangers, as they seemed to him, he leaped forward, but crouched at his master's feet as he recognised his face and voice. "Good dog!" cried Cracis. "No, go back and guard all here till I return." If the dog did not grasp the words, he did the tone and gesture, replying by throwing up his muzzle and giving vent to a piteous howl full of protest, as he turned and walked slowly back to join Marcus and Serge, dropping at the former's feet just as the departing pair disappeared at a turn of the road. Then there was a pause for a time, before the dog slunk off to his kennel; Serge hung his head and moved away in silence towards the back of the villa and the room that Marcus playfully called his den, while the boy, feeling that all was over and hope dead and buried in his breast, went slowly and sadly to his seat in the study, where his stylus and waxen tablets lay, to slowly scratch upon the smooth surface the words: "Gone. Left behind." CHAPTER ELEVEN. GOOD-BYE, OLD HOME. There was a strange solemnity about the Roman villa as soon as Marcus was left alone. All seemed to have grown painfully still. It was fancy, no doubt, but, to the boy, the birds had ceased to sing and chirp among the trees, the sounds from the farm were distant, and though more than once Marcus listened intently he did not hear Serge go to or from his room, nor his step anywhere about the road. "Poor old Serge," thought Marcus; "he is as miserable as I am--no, not quite, because he does not feel so guilty nor ready to disobey. He heard what my father said, bowed his head, and went away." And how slowly the time glided away. The hottest part of the afternoon came, when, as a rule, the boy felt drowsy and ready to have a restful sleep till the sun began to get low; but this day Marcus felt so alert and excited that he never once thought of sleep, though he more than once longed to see the sun go down so that it might be darkness such as would agree with the misery and despair which kept him shut in his room hating the very sight of day. Marcus took up his stylus to write a dozen times over, but he did not add a word to those which he had written as soon as he was alone, and he threw the pointed implement down each time with a feeling of disgust. "I feel as if I shall never write again," he said, bitterly. "Oh, it is too hard to bear!" He buried his face in his hands, resting his elbows upon his knees, feeling at times almost stunned by his misery, quite ignorant of the lapse of time, and so wretched that he did not even wonder how far his father and the great Roman general had got by this time upon their journey to Rome. "Is it never going to be night?" groaned the boy at last, and then he started violently, for something cold and moist touched one of his hands. "You, Lupe?" he said, with a sigh, as he realised his disturber, and he looked gently at the great dog, whose eyes were fixed enquiringly and wistfully on his. "He's gone, old boy--gone--gone--gone--and, yes, the place does seem lonely and sad." The dog whined softly, and then looked sharply in his face again, before turning to the door, forcing it open and passing through. "Who'd ever have thought a dog would feel it so?" thought Marcus. "But he does. He missed him directly, and he has gone to hunt for him. "What, can't you find him, Lupe?" cried Marcus, as there came a scratching at the door, which was forced open, and the dog came in again, to utter a piteous whimper which increased into a howl. "Poor old Lupe!" sighed Marcus. "Can't you find him, boy? No, and you never will. I dare say he will never come back here again. Good old dog!" he continued, taking hold of his ears and drawing the head into his lap, to keep on caressing him and talking to him the while. "What mistakes one makes! I used to think you such a surly, savage old fellow, and here you are as miserable as I am, Lupe. Oh, he might have let me go!" The dog whined softly as it gazed wistfully in his eyes, and whined again. "Where's old Serge, Lupe? You haven't seen him since father went." The dog growled. "Oh, don't be cross with him, Lupe. I dare say he's as disappointed as I am; but he will have to stay," continued the boy, bitterly, as he uttered a mocking laugh, "and take care of the house and the servants and all the things about the farm; and you will have to stay and help him too. Just as if all these things were of any consequence at all. There, get away; I can't make a fuss over you now. I feel half wild and savage. I can't bear it, Lupe. It's too much--too much." He thrust the dog's head roughly away, and Lupe stood up before him and shook himself violently so that his ears rattled. Then, trotting towards the door, he was stopped short, for the latch was in its place and he tried to drag it open with his claws, but tried for some moments in vain. Then showing plenty of intelligence, he trotted back to the middle of the room, looked up anxiously in his young master's face, and barked angrily. "Oh, look here," cried Marcus, "I can't bear this. Be off!" The dog trotted back to the door and scratched at it with his head turned towards the boy the while; but Marcus was too full of his own troubles to grasp the great animal's meaning, and, finding that he was not understood, Lupe trotted to Marcus' side, lifted one leg, and pawed at him. "Get away, I tell you!" cried the boy, and the dog barked a little, and stood barking in the middle of the room for a few moments, before turning and making for the window, where he crouched a little, and then, with one effort, sprang right out into the garden, while Marcus subsided into his old attitude with his face buried in his hands. No one disturbed him, and at last the night began to fall, the shadows in the room darkened and grew darker still, till at last the boy seemed to wake out of a deep sleep, though he had never closed his eyes. Springing up, he went to the window, looked out at the dark and silent garden, and then uttering a low, deep sigh he crossed to the door, passed through, and made for his father's study, to find there that all was darker still. But he knew what he wanted, and with outstretched hands made for his father's bed, when they came in contact at once with what he wanted. Then there arose from the place where his father rested night after night a short, sharp, clinking noise as of metal against metal, while the boy quickly and carefully gathered together the various portions of his armour and accoutrements which had been placed there by old Serge when he unpacked and sorted out the portions of the three suits. It did not take long to clear the bed, and then, hugging everything tightly to him, Marcus crept softly out through the darkness, listening carefully the while before every movement, his acts suggesting that he was playing the part of a robber; and he thought so and laughed to himself, as he said softly, as if answering his conscience, "Yes, but I am only stealing my own," and then made his way to his own sleeping chamber, a narrow little closet of a place which opened upon the court, where the musical tinkling of the water as it fell back into the basin could be plainly heard. In the darkness everything was wonderfully still, save that the music of the water sometimes sounded loud, and when the boy rather roughly freed himself from his burden that he carried by casting the armour and weapons upon his own bed, he was half startled by the resulting crash, and turned back quickly into the court to stand and listen. As he did this the low murmur of voices came to his ear, making him step cautiously across the little square court and go round to the spot from which the sounds came. There he stood listening for a few moments, to satisfy himself that it was only his father's servants talking together, their subject being their master's going away. "Oh," he said, impatiently, "they don't think about me, any more than old Serge does. But he might have given me a thought and come and said a word or two to show that he was sorry for my disappointment. "But no; he wouldn't," continued the boy, with a sigh. "I suppose people in trouble are always selfish, and he thinks his trouble a bigger one than mine. Never mind. I won't be selfish. I'll go and speak to him, just a few kind words to let him see that I am sorry for him, and then--Oh, it's very miserable work, and what a difference father could have made if he would have listened to me--and that Julius too. "Caius Julius! Yes, of course, I have heard about him, but it never troubled me--in fact I hardly knew there was such a man in the world-- the greatest man in Rome, a mighty soldier and conqueror, old Serge said more than once; but I never took any notice, for it seemed nothing to do with me. Oh, who could have thought that in a few short hours there could be such a change as this!" The boy turned off, crossed the court again, and made his way to Serge's den, where all was still and dark as the part of the building he had just quitted. "You here, Serge?" he cried, cheerily, thrusting open the door. "Where are you? What have you been doing all this time?" Marcus' words sounded hollow and strange, coming back to him, as it were, and startling him for the moment. "Are you asleep?" he shouted, loudly, as if to encourage himself, for an uncomfortable feeling thrilled him through and through. "Oh, what nonsense!" he muttered. "Not likely that he would be asleep; he'd have heard me directly and sprung up. Where can he be?" The boy thought for a few moments, and then hurried out towards the farm buildings and sheds, but stopped short as another thought struck him, and he made at once for the dark building with its stone cistern where the grapes were trodden. The door was ajar, and he stepped in at once. "You here, Serge?" he cried; and this time there was an answer, but it was made by the dog, which approached him fawningly and uttered a low, whining, discontented howl. "Oh, get out! I don't want you," cried Marcus, angrily; and he turned to leave the place, but his conscience smote him and he stooped down and began patting the great beast's head. "Yes, I do," he said, gently. "Poor old Lupe! I mustn't be surly to my friends. Good old dog, then! But where's Serge? Do you know where he is, boy?" The dog growled, and pressed up against Marcus' leg. "No, you don't know, old fellow. If you did you'd be with him. There, go and lie down. I daresay he's gone into the woods to sulk and walk it off." The dog whined softly, and then, in obedience to his master's commands, let himself subside upon the stones, while Marcus strolled off, stopped once or twice to think and listen, and then said, half aloud: "There, it's of no use, and perhaps it's all for the best, for I'm so weak and stupid, and I daresay I shouldn't have been able to talk to him and say what I meant without breaking down." He drew himself up firmly, then stood breathing hard for a few moments, as he turned and gazed through the darkness in different directions, and then made straight for his little cubicle, entered at once, and, breathing hard the while as if he had been running far, he cast off his loose every-day garment and began rapidly to put on the armour in which he had had such pride. Practice with old Serge had made him perfect, and, in spite of the darkness, his fingers obeyed him well, so that it was not long before he stood girded and buckled up, fully accoutred, with nothing more to be done than to crown his preparations by placing his heavy helmet upon his head. Before he began, his spirits were down to the lowest ebb, but exertion and excitement, joined with something in the touch of the war-like garb and the thoughts this last engendered, so that as he went on he gradually grew brighter, adventurous thoughts encouraged him; and, at last, taking the helmet in both hands, he placed it upon his head, drew the armed strap beneath his chin, and readjusted the hang of his short broadsword, before standing in the darkness absolutely motionless. "Why, it makes me feel ten years older," he said, "even if I am but a boy! And here was I, before I began, shrinking and feeling that I should repent and be afraid to go. And now I am like this!" He lifted his shield from where it lay upon the bed, took the short spear which he had leaned in a corner of the wall, and then, stiffened by his armour and far more by the spirit that seemed to thrill through every nerve and tendon, he stepped out into the court, to bend down and place his lips to the clear water in the fountain basin, drink deeply, and then stand up in the darkness to look round. "Good-bye, old home!" he said, aloud, and his voice broke a little; but it hardened again the next moment, as he said, quickly: "No, it isn't home now that he has gone away. I am coming, father, and you must forgive me when we meet, for I cannot--I dare not stay." There was the quick, sharp tramp of the boy's feet as he crossed the stone-paved court, with the arms he wore, and those he carried, making a slight crackling and clinking noise, while his bronze protected feet made his steps sound heavier than of old. The next minute he was fighting against the desire to turn and look back, and, conquering, for he felt that it would be weak, he strode off with quickened pace away along the track that had been taken by his father and Caius Julius hours before. CHAPTER TWELVE. REAL WAR. It was all one blur of mystery to Marcus as he tramped through the forest, following the slightly beaten road. Time seemed to be no more, and distance not to count. Everything was dreamy and strange, over-ruled by the one great thought that he was going to reach his father somewhere, somehow, in the future, when he would reprove him bitterly and forgive him, but he would never turn him back; and, governed by these thoughts, he went on, almost unconscious of everything else. The way was sometimes desolate, sometimes grand, with mountain and forest, over which and through which the roughly beaten track always led, for it was not one of the carefully constructed military roads that his great people afterwards formed through the length and breadth of their land. The rocks amongst the mountains afforded resting places; beneath the grand trees of the forest there was mossy carpet, upon which he slept; there were trickling rills and natural basins where crystal water gave him drink, or places where he could bathe his hot and tired feet, while now and again he came upon the rude hut of some goat-herd or Pagan who, for a small coin, gladly supplied him with coarse black bread and a bowl of freshly-drawn goat's milk. And this went on, as he could recall when he thought, day after day, night after night, if he tried to think; but that was rarely, for he had no time. The one great thought of finding his father mastered all else, as, still in what continued a strange, blurred, adventurous dream, he went on and on, seeming to grow more vigorous and stronger every hour, feeling too, at heart, that he was on the right way, with Rome in the distance, the goal for which he was bound; and once there--ah! All was blank and confused again, but it was a confusion full of excitement, where flashes of greatness played up on the great city of which he had heard so much, and his father and the army were there. There was nothing to hinder his progress, for the weather was glorious, and, each morning when he awakened from his sleep, it was with his heart throbbing with joy and desire as he sprang up refreshed and eager with nothing to stay his way, till, on the morning of the third--the fourth-- the fifth--he could not tell what day--all he knew was that it was during his journey--he came suddenly in a dense part of a forest, upon a big, armed figure marching before him far down the track, evidently going the same way as he, turning neither to the right nor left, but striding steadily on, and Marcus suffered a new emotion near akin to fear and dread, not of this armed man, but of what he might do. For the boy reasoned that, if he overtook this man, he might question him, find out who he was, and turn him back. Marcus stopped short, after stepping aside to shelter himself partly behind a tree-trunk, to watch the soldier, whose helmet glistened in the sun-rays which played through the leaves, while the head of his spear flashed at times as if it were a blade of fire. It was not fear alone that troubled the boy, for the sight of this warrior, who was evidently on the march to join the army, sent a thrill through his breast, and the war-like ardour of old fostered by old Serge, came back stronger than ever, as he said to himself that there was nothing to mind, for they were both, this big, grand-looking warrior and he, upon the same mission. "He'll make me welcome," thought Marcus, "and we can march on together and talk about the wars, the same as Serge and I used to before father found us out. "I wonder whether this man knew my father? He'll be sure to know Caius Julius, and I can talk about him and his coming to my home." But Marcus did not hurry on, for the dread came, and with it the horror of being ignominiously forced to retrace his steps, while the Roman warrior seemed to increase and grow large, till he disappeared among the trees, came into sight again farther on, and, after a time, as Marcus still hesitated, he finally passed out of sight, making the boy breathe more freely. "What a coward I am!" he cried, aloud. "It's because I'm doing wrong in leaving home as I did after receiving my father's commands. But I couldn't help it. Something forced me to come away, and it was only because I felt that I ought to be at father's side. "Perhaps it wasn't cowardice," he muttered, after a pause. "It may have been prudence--the desire to make sure of reaching the army without being turned back. And I'm such a boy that this great warrior would have laughed at me and perhaps have looked at me mockingly as he felt my arms. I've done quite right, and I'll keep to myself and join nobody till I get to the army, where I shall be safe." After a time Marcus started off again, keeping a sharp look-out along the road as he proceeded, till, some time later, he saw afar off a flash of light, then another, which proved that the first had come from the marching warrior's helmet, and once more Marcus slackened his pace. He saw no more of the man that day, but, as the evening was closing in, upon the slope of a wooded mountain the boy caught sight of a goat-herd's hut, where he obtained bread and milk, and the peasant who lived there asked him if he was a companion of the big warrior who had been there a short time before. Marcus shook his head, and soon after continued his journey, keeping a stricter watch than ever, but seeing no more of the man. But he turned aside into the forest as soon as he found a suitable place offering shelter and a soft, dry couch, and was soon after plunged in a restful sleep which lasted till the grey dawn, when he suddenly started into wakefulness, disturbed, as he was, by the rattling of armour. Marcus shrank back among the undergrowth which had been his shelter, waking fully to the fact that he had lain down to sleep not above a dozen yards from where the man had made his couch, while, in all probability, had he continued his journey for those few paces the night before, he would have stumbled upon him he sought to avoid. There was nothing for it but to wait for a while so as to give his fellow-traveller time to get some distance ahead, and, when he thought that he might start, Marcus went on again slowly, with the result that, during that day, he caught sight of the man twice over steadily plodding on, but never once looking back or hesitating as to his path. When night closed in again, the country had become far more hilly, and, as Marcus was descending a steep slope at the bottom of which a stream gurgled and rippled along, the boy awoke to the fact that the man had been resting and bathing in the bottom of the tiny valley, and was now ascending the opposite slope, where, in full sight of his fellow-traveller, he stopped beneath a tree, divested himself of a portion of his armour, and then lay down to rest. To have gone on and passed him would have been the most sensible thing to do, but to do this the boy would have had to creep along a rugged path close beside the sleeper's halting place, at the great risk of dislodging stones and awakening him if he were asleep, while, if he were yet awake, to pass without being seen was impossible. It was not the spot where Marcus would have chosen his resting place, but there was no option, and, carefully keeping among the trees, he dropped down at the most suitable place, and then lay for some time vainly trying to sleep, till at last he lost consciousness, resting and preparing for his next day's journey, waking at sunrise in the hope that if he could not lose sight of his unwelcome fellow-traveller, the next night would find him so near to Rome that another day's march would, at least, bring him so close that there would be no more such anxious travel. But matters turn out in daily life very often in a different way from what is expected, and so it was here. Marcus waited and watched till he saw the warrior rise bare-headed, but not to go on at once after donning his helmet, but to come back in his direction. "He must have seen me," thought the boy excitedly, and he began to creep carefully away through the low bushes; but, at the end of a minute, upon glancing back, he found that the man was not following him, but had made his way down to the little stream to drink and wash. Relieved by this, Marcus reseated himself to watch unseen every action of the soldier, who had left his helmet, shield and weapons at the foot of the tree where he had slept; and, after bathing his face and hands, he was on his way back, when, to Marcus' horror, he caught sight of a glint of something bright, and, directly after, made out first one and then another rough-looking, armed man, till he saw there were no less than six creeping towards the spot where the Roman soldier had left his weapons. Marcus thought no more of himself at this, but was about to issue from his hiding place when he grasped the fact that the soldier had realised his danger, and, springing forward with a shout, he made a dash to reach his resting place first. The strange men were evidently shaken by his bold action, but only for a few moments, and turned to meet the soldier, knife in hand; but their hesitation gave the warrior time to reach shield and sword, when, without waiting to be attacked, the men advanced upon him at once. Such an encounter as this was quite new to Marcus, and he stood there hidden from all concerned for quite a minute, with his heart beating rapidly, trembling with excitement, and taking the position of a spectator, gazing with starting eyes at the party of strangers as if the fight were no concern of his. Strangers? Yes, they were all strangers--enemies perhaps; and then, like a flash, it struck him that these rough-looking, knife-armed men were robbers intent upon spoiling the warrior and perhaps taking his life. This flash of intelligence opened the way for another, making him see the cowardice of six attacking one while that one was brave as brave could be. For a few moments, as he watched the encounter in the bright morning light, Marcus was full of admiration for the brave and clever way in which, hemmed in though he was, the big warrior interposed his shield and turned off blow after blow. But all the same it was very evident that numbers would gain the day and some desperate thrust lay the poor fellow low. Marcus' thoughts passed very quickly in his excitement, and now another came like a question: You are in armour, with a good shield, a sharp sword and spear. You have taken upon yourself the part of a Roman soldier, and you stand there doing nothing but look on. That thought seemed to smite Marcus right in the face, and the next moment he was running hard, spear in hand, down the steep hill slope, to leap the rivulet and, with lowered spear, charge up the other side towards the contending party, a loud shout ringing out upon the morning air. So fully were the attacking party taken up by their work of escaping the single swordsman's blows and trying to get in a thrust, that they paid no heed to the shout of the boy, and were not even conscious of his presence till he was close at hand. But his approach was noted by the brave soldier, just as an attack from behind was delivered simultaneously with one in front, and it gave him strength to make a last effort which enabled him to lay one of his assailants low; but at the same moment another enemy sprang upon his back, and he went down, his foes hurling themselves upon him with a shout of triumph, which turned into a yell of dismay as the boy literally leaped amongst them as if to join in the mastery over the fallen man. But though Marcus sprang quickly into their midst, his spear moved far more quickly than his feet, and he darted in to right and left two of the thrusts that he had learned from Serge in one of his mock combats at home when his spear had been only a short, light pole, cut and trimmed by the old soldier for the purpose in hand. All that was sham, but this was startlingly real to the boy, as, at each thrust, he saw blood start, and heard the yells of pain given by the receivers of the point. Those cries were auxiliaries, for they pierced the ears of those who attacked, making them turn in their surprise to find amongst them a fully-armed warrior whose arms flashed in the morning sun, as, advancing his shield ready for a blow, he darted his spear forward at another, who avoided the thrust by a backward leap, and, once started, dashed away as hard as they could go. Fighting men are prone to follow their leader, sometimes to victory, sometimes in panic flight. This latter was the case here. Marcus' next thrust, delivered with all his might, coming too late, for it was at a flying foe, three men running swiftly, one limping away, another running more slowly, nursing his right arm, and the sixth, who had been struck down by the Roman soldier's sword, crawling along towards the rivulet, by which he stopped to bathe his wound. It was a matter of very few moments, and Marcus had hardly realised the fact that his daring surprise had completely turned the tables, for his first thought was, "They couldn't have seen what a boy I am," when his next led him to turn back to see how the beaten-down soldier had fared, just in time to meet him face to face, as, half stunned, he struggled to his knees and pressing his sword upon one of the stones hard by, used it as a staff to enable him to gain his feet. The next moment he was afoot, passing his sword into his shield-bearing hand so that he might raise his big helmet, which, in the struggle, had been driven down over his eyes. Then it was that he stared at his deliverer, and his deliverer stared at him. "Thank you, whoever you are--" began the soldier, and then his jaw dropped and he was silent. Not so Marcus, whose countenance lit up with delight, as he shouted: "Why, Serge! Can this be you?" CHAPTER THIRTEEN. TURNING THE TABLES. "Marcus, boy!" came back the next instant, as the old soldier dashed down his shield and his sword upon it with a clattering noise, before catching his deliverer in his arms and holding him to his breast. "Well done!" he cried. "Well done, boy! Well done! Hah! Hurrah! Think of it! Six on 'em! And you set 'em running. Hah!" he panted, breathlessly, as he freed the boy, took a couple of steps backward, planted his great fists upon his hips, gazed at him proudly, and then gave a sweeping look round as if addressing a circle of lookers-on instead of blocks of stone and trees; "Hah!" he exclaimed. "I taught him to fight like that!" "Yes, Serge, you did--you did!" cried Marcus. "But you are covered with blood, and you are badly hurt. Those wretches must have stabbed you with their knives." "Eh?" growled the old soldier, beginning to feel himself all over. "Yes, how nasty! All over my breast. It's a long time since I have been in a mess like this. I felt a dig in the front, and another in my back, and another--" Serge ceased speaking as his hands were busy feeling for his wounds, and then he exclaimed: "Yes, it's blood, sure enough, but 'tain't mine, boy. Their knives didn't go through. I am all right, only out of breath. But you? Did you get touched?" "Oh no," cried Marcus. "I escaped." "But you made your marks on them, boy. My marks, I call 'em." "Pick up your sword and shield, Serge," cried Marcus, excitedly. "They'll be coming back directly perhaps." "Well, yes, it would be wise, boy," said the old soldier, taking his advice. "Look yonder; that's the fellow I cut down," and he pointed with his sword to the man who had been bathing his wound and, after crossing the rivulet, was also in full retreat. "No, he's had enough of it, and if the others came back it wouldn't be six to one, but five to two--two well-armed warriors, you and me," said the old man, proudly, as he made Marcus' shield clatter loudly as he tapped it with his sword. "You and me, boy," he repeated. "Tchah! They won't come on again. Why, back to back, you and me--why, we are ready for a dozen of them if they came. Here, I had my wash, but I must go now and have another while you keep guard over me. Think of it!--While you keep guard over me, boy! No, I won't call you boy no more, for I have made you a fighting man, and here's been the proof of it this morning. There's only one thing wanted to make all this complete. Boy! Tchah! I can't call you a boy: you are a young Roman warrior." "Oh, nonsense, Serge!" cried the boy, flushing. "Nonsense, eh? Look at you and the way you handled that spear. Why, you are better with your sword, if you have to draw it, as I well know. Do you remember how you nearly did for me?" "Oh yes, I remember," replied Marcus. "Yes, I had to jump that time; and lucky I did, or I shouldn't have been here for you to fight like this. But, as I was saying, it only wanted one thing, and that was for your father, who has come to his senses at last, to have been here to see, and--" The old soldier stopped short, his big, massive jaw dropped, and he stood staring as he took off his heavy helmet and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "But I say," he cried, at last, staring at the boy with the puzzled expression upon his features growing more and more intense, "what are you doing here?" Marcus' sun-browned face turned scarlet, and he stood silent, staring in reply, beginning almost to cower--he, the brave, young, growing warrior--before the old servant's stern eyes, and ready to shiver at the pricking of the conscience that was now hard at work. "Look here," cried Serge, extending his shield and raising his short broadsword to punctuate his words with the taps he gave upon this armour of defence, "your father said that you were not to use that armour any more, and I left it, being busy getting his for him to go off to the war, lying upon his bed. It wasn't yours any longer. It was his'n. You have been in and stole it; that's what you have done. Do you hear me?" continued the old soldier, fiercely. "You've been and stole it and put it on, when he said you warn't to. That's what you've done." "Yes, Serge," said the boy, meekly. "Hah!" cried the old soldier, gathering strength. "And your father said you were to stop at home and take care of his house and servants, and the swine and cattle, and his lands, and, as soon as he's gone, you begin kicking up your heels and playing your wicked young pranks. That's what you've done, and been pretty quick about it too. Now then, out with it. Let's have the truth--the truth, and no excuses. Let's have the truth." It was no longer punctuation, but a series of heavy musical bangs upon the shield, and once more, very meekly indeed, Marcus said, almost beneath his breath: "Yes, Serge; that's quite right. Everything is as you say." "Ah, well," growled the old soldier, a little mollified by his young master's frankness, "that don't make it quite so bad. Now then, just you answer right out. Where were you a-going to go?" "To join father at the war." "Hah! I thought as much," cried the old soldier, triumphantly, and looking as though he credited himself with a grand discovery. "And now you see what comes of not doing what you are told. I've just catched you on the hop, and it's lucky for you it's me and not the master himself. So, now then, it's clear enough what I've got to do." "To do?" cried Marcus, quickly. "What do you mean, Serge?" "What do I mean? Why, to make you take off that coat of armour on the spot. Well, no, I can't do that, because you aren't got nothing else to wear. Well, never mind; you must go as you are." "Oh yes, Serge, never mind about the armour; I'll go as I am. But gather your things together--that bundle of yours." "How did you know I'd got a bundle?" said the old soldier, suspiciously. "I have seen you carrying it day after day." "What! You've seen me day after day?" "Oh yes. I don't know how long it's been, but I have often seen you right in front." "Worse and worse!" cried the old soldier, angrily. "That shows what a bad heart you've got, boy. You've come sneaking along after me to find the way, and never dared to show your face." "I did dare!" cried the boy, indignantly. "But I only saw your back. I didn't know it was you." "Oh, you didn't know it was me?" growled Serge. "Well, that don't make it quite so bad. But you knew it was me that you came to help?" "No." "Oh! Then I might have been a stranger?" "Yes, of course. I saw six men attacking one, and--" "Oh, come, he ain't got such a bad heart as I thought," said the old soldier. "And you did behave very well. I did feel a bit proud of you. But never mind that; we have got something else to talk about," said Serge, as he rearranged his armour and picked up his wallet and spear. "Now then, let's get back at once, and mind this, if you attempt to give me the slip--" "Give you the slip! Get back!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "What do you mean by get back at once?" "Why, get back home to your books and that there wax scratcher to do as your father said. This is a pretty game, upon my word!" "But I am not going back, Serge," cried the boy, firmly. "I am going to join my father." "You are not going to join your father," said the old soldier, sturdily. "You've run away like one of them village ragged-jacks, and I am ashamed of you, that's what I am. But 'shamed or no 'shamed, I've catched you and I am going to take you back." "No!" cried Marcus, fiercely. "Nay, boy, it's yes, so make no more bones about it." "I am going to join my father, sir, and answer to him, not to his servant." "You are going back home to your books and to take care of your father's house." "And suppose I refuse?" cried Marcus. "Won't make a bit of difference, boy, for I shall make you." "Indeed!" cried Marcus. "Now then, none of that! None of your ruffling up like a young cockerel and sticking your hackles out because you think your spurs have grown, when you are not much more than fledged, because that won't do with me. I tell you this: you come easy and it will be all the better for you, for if you behave well perhaps I won't tell the master, after all. So make up your mind to be a good boy at once." "A good boy!" cried Marcus, scornfully. "Why, you called me a brave young warrior just now." "Yes, I am rather an old fool sometimes," growled Serge; "but you needn't pitch that in my teeth. Now then, no more words, and let's waste no more time. I want to get back." "But Serge--" cried the boy. "That'll do. You know what your father said, and you've got to obey him, or I shall make you. Aren't you sorry for doing wrong?" "Yes--no," cried Marcus. "Yes--no? What do you mean by that, sir?" "I don't know," cried Marcus, desperately. "Look here, Serge: it is too late now. I've taken this step, and I must go on and join my father now." "Taken this step? Yes, of course you have," cried the old soldier, sarcastically, "and a nice step it is! What's it led to? Your having to take a lot more steps back again. I know; but you didn't, being such a young callow bit of a fellow. Soon as you do anything wrong you have to do a lot more bad things to cover it up. Lucky for you I catched you; so now then, come on." "But Serge," cried Marcus, passionately, "you can't understand how I felt--how it seemed as if I must go after my father, to be with him in case he wanted help. He might be wounded, you know." "Well, if he is there'll be plenty to help him. Soldiers are always comrades, and help one another. If he is wounded he won't want a boy like you, so stop all that. I'm not going to stand here and let you argue me into a rage. You've got to come back and obey your father's commands, instead of breaking his orders. I wonder at you, boy, that I do. Did this come out of your reading and writing?" "Serge!" cried the boy. "I did try hard--so hard, you don't know; but I couldn't stay. I was obliged to come." "Won't do, boy," growled the old soldier, frowning. "Orders are orders, and one has to obey them whether one likes 'em or whether one don't. Ready?" "No, Serge, no, I'm not ready," pleaded the boy. "It is too late. I can't go back." "Too late? Not a bit. Now then: come on." "I cannot, Serge. I must--I will go on now." "You mustn't, sir, and you will not," cried the old soldier, sternly. "Now then, no nonsense; come on." "No, no, Serge. Pray, pray take my side. It is to be with my father; can't you see?" "No, boy; I'm blind when it comes to orders." "Oh, Serge, have you no mercy?" cried Marcus, piteously. "Not a bit, boy. Now then, once more, come on." "I cannot," cried Marcus, passionately. "Then I'm going to make you." "What!" "I'm going to carry you, heavy as you'll be, and long as it will make the road. But I've got it to do, and, if it takes me a month, I'm going to make you obey your father's orders, sir, and stop at home." As he spoke Serge swung his shield between his shoulders, pressed his sheathed sword a little more round to his side, and with a sharp dig made his spear stand up in the earth. "Now then," he cried, and he caught Marcus by the wrists, and a struggle seemed to be imminent. "Serge!" cried Marcus, angrily. "Your orders were to stay at home, sir, and home you go," cried the old soldier. "If you will be carried back like a scrap of a little child, why, carried you shall be. So give up. I'm twice as strong as you, and it's your father's commands." "Hah!" cried Marcus, ceasing his struggles on the instant, and leaving his wrists tightly clasped in the old soldier's hands. "Well, what are you `hah-ing' about?" cried Serge, as he noted the suddenly triumphant tones of the boy's voice. "I was thinking about my father's orders," cried Marcus, in a state of wild excitement now. "Good boy; and quite time. Pity you didn't think more of 'em and much sooner. Then you're going to mind me without more fuss, and come home like a good boy now?" "No," cried Marcus, fiercely. "I am going on to my father. I will not stir a step backward now." "What!" cried Serge, as fiercely now, for the old man was roused by the boy's obstinacy. "You won't obey?" "No," cried Marcus, catching his companion by the top of his breast armour. "It's my turn now. Look here, sir; you talk about my father's commands." "Yes, boy, I do," roared the old soldier, looking as fierce now as one of the campagna bulls, whose bellow he seemed to emulate, "and I'll make you obey them too." "Commands--obey--when I'm only going to join him?" "Yes, that's it, my lad. So now then!" "Yes," cried Marcus, giving his companion a fierce thrust which forced him a little back so that he caught his heels against a projecting stone, and as he tried to recover himself was brought down by Marcus upon his knees. "Hah!" he cried. "I've got you! What have you got to say about my father's orders? What are you doing here?" CHAPTER FOURTEEN. COMING TO TERMS. Serge was in the act of gathering himself together so as to spring up and catch his prisoner by the arms, but, as the boy questioned him sharply he sank a little lower upon his knees, and, as if all the strength had been suddenly discharged from within him, he said in quite a different tone of voice: "What am I doing here?" "Yes, sir," cried Marcus, forcing him a little more back, and fixing him with his eyes, "what are _you_ doing here?" "Well, I--er--I--I'm here to take you back." "You old shuffler!" cried Marcus, in a rage. "I can see through you. My father's orders, indeed! What were his orders to _you_, sir? Weren't they to stop and take care of his house and belongings, and of me?" "Well, they was something like that," growled the man, softly; "but don't drive your knuckles into my throat like that, my lad. You hurt." "Hurt! Yes, and you deserve it," cried Marcus, growing stronger in his attack upon the old servant as the latter grew more confused and weak. "So this is the way you obey my father's commands. You took upon yourself to go into his room and help yourself to the armour you have on. Confess, you did; didn't you?" "Well, if it comes to that, Master Marcus," grumbled the man, "it was my armour, and wouldn't fit no one else." "That's shuffling again, Serge, and it's no good. You took the armour, unknown to my father?" "Course I did, my lad," cried the man, recovering himself a little. "He wasn't there, was he?" "Pah!" ejaculated Marcus. "More shuffling. Now then, confess: you took the armour and disobeyed the orders given you. What is more, you forsook me and left me to myself. Speak out; you did, didn't you?" "Well, I s'pose it's o' no use to deny it, Master Marcus. I s'pose I did." "And in direct opposition to my father's orders you were going to follow him to the war?" "That's right, Master Marcus, but how could I help it? Could I let him, as I'd followed into many a fight, go off to meet those savage Gauls without me at his back to stand by him as I've done many and many a time before?" "You disobeyed him, sir," cried Marcus. "Well, boy, I own up," growled the man; "but I meant to do it for the best. How could I stop at home nussing you like a baby and thinking all the while that my old master was going about with swords and spears offering at his throat? How could I do it, Master Marcus? Don't be so hard on a man. It wasn't to be done." "And yet you were as hard as iron to me, sir," cried Marcus. "Well, didn't your father order me to be in the way of taking care of you? It was my duty." "Was it?" cried Marcus. "Then now I'm going to do my duty to you, sir." "What are you going to do, Master Marcus?" said Serge, quite humbled now. "Make you go back to the old home and take care of it." "Master never gave you orders to do that," cried the old soldier, triumphantly; "and now I'm started to follow him and fight for him, nobody shan't make me go; so there!" Marcus and Serge remained gazing in one another's eyes, till at last the latter spoke. "Look here, Master Marcus, I meant it for the best. Aren't you being a bit hard on me?" "Look here, Serge," replied Marcus, "I meant it for the best. Weren't you a bit hard upon me?" "I think not, Master Marcus, boy." "And that's what I think, Serge." "I couldn't see my dear old master go away alone into danger." "And I couldn't see my dear old father go away alone into danger." "Of course you couldn't, Master Marcus. I say, my lad, you know what I used to tell you about enemies doing when they come to a check like-- what they settled was best." "What, made a truce?" said Marcus. "Yes, my lad. I should like one now, for that bruise you've made with your knuckles in my throat's quite big enough. It'll be black to-morrow." "Get up, Serge," said Marcus, letting his hand fall. "Thankye, my lad. I say, boy, I didn't think you were so strong." "Didn't you, Serge?" "No, boy. My word, it's just as if getting into your armour had stiffened you all over. My word, I wouldn't ha' believed that you could fight like you did this morning!" "I felt hot and excited, Serge, and as if I could do anything." "Didn't feel a bit scared like, though there was six of them?" "No," said Marcus, thoughtfully; "I never thought anything about their numbers, only of saving you." "Thinking all the time it was someone else, sir?" "Yes, Serge; that was it." "And you fought fine, sir. Seems to me it's a pity for a youngster like you to be stopping at home unrolling volumes and making scratches with a stylus." "Does it, Serge?" "Yes, sir, it do; and likewise it seems a pity that such a man as me, who can do his share of fighting, should be doing nothing better than driving the swine into the acorn woods." "And looking after and protecting me, Serge," said Marcus, drily. "Oh, yes, of course; there was that, of course, Master Marcus; but I say, sir, don't you think we've both talked enough for the present; I tackled you and you tackled me in a pretty tidy argument, and both on us had the best of it in turn. I'm beginning to think that there's good clear water coming down from the mountain yonder." "Yes, Serge; it makes me feel thirsty after getting so hot." "Then, too, I've got a nice loaf in my wallet and a tidy bit o' meat as I got from a little way back. What do you say to our making a bit o' breakfast together same as we've done before now in the woods?" "And settle afterwards about whether we should go back, Serge?" said Marcus. "Yes, my lad; that'll be the sensiblest thing to do." "Yes," said Marcus, "you've talked about it, and it has made me feel very hungry now." "Well, look here," said Serge, "we are about even, aren't we?" "Even!" said Marcus, staring at the man. "Do you mean about both being hungry?" "Nay-y-y-ay! About being wicked uns. You've done wrong, you know, and disobeyed orders." "Yes," said Marcus, with a sigh. "So have I. Well, we are both in disgrace, and that makes us even; so, of course, I can't bully you any more and you can't say ugly things to me. Fair play's the thing, isn't it?" "Of course," cried Marcus. "Well, then, as you've behaved uncommon fine in tackling those rough ones, and saved my life--" "Oh no," said Marcus, modestly. "But I say, oh yes. Don't you talk to me. They'd have killed me dead, stripped off everything that was worth taking, and then left my body to the wolves." Marcus recalled the words of the speaker of his wandering away up the mountains to lie down and die, and he felt ready to say: "Well, that would have suited you;" but he thought it better not, and held his tongue. "As I said before, you have behaved uncommonly well over that, so I'll forgive you for running away, and shake hands, if you'll agree to say nothing more about it to me." "Oh, very well," cried Marcus. "I don't feel that I can say any more to you." "Then I won't to you, my lad, and there's my hand on it. Only mind this," cried Serge, as they stood with their hands clasped, "this is only me, you know. I lose my place of looking after you, according to the master's orders, by forsaking my post and going after him, so I aren't no longer holding your rein, as you may say. What I mean is this--I forgive you, but I am not going to answer for what your father will say." "Oh, of course not," cried Marcus. "We have both got to face that." "Yes, my lad," said the old soldier, sourly, "and a nice hard time it's going to be. I daren't think about it, but keep on putting it off till it comes. That'll be time enough. So now then, you and me's going to be friends, and try to help one another out of the mud. That is, unless you think we'd better go back home together." "Oh, no, no," cried Marcus. "Impossible! We must go on now." "Yes," said Serge, bluntly. "Then it's vittles." "Vittles?" said Marcus, staring. "Yes. Don't you know what vittles are? Didn't you say you was hungry?" "Oh!" cried Marcus. "Have you got anything?" "Scarcely anything," replied Marcus. "Yah! And after all the pains I took with you! Didn't I always say that an army on the march must always look well after its foraging? No commander can expect his men to behave better than a bottle." "Look here, Serge," cried Marcus, laughing, "why don't you speak out plainly what you mean? What have men got to do with bottles?" "Oh, a good deal sometimes," said the man, chuckling. "But that's only my way. You can't hold a bottle up, no matter whether it's a goat-skin or one of them big jars made of clay, and expect to pour something out of it if you haven't first put something in?" "No, of course not," said Marcus, who was busy polishing the point of his spear with a tuft of dried grass. "Well, men's the same as bottles; if you don't give them plenty to eat and drink you can't get plenty of fighting out of them. Always see to your foraging when you are on the march. I always do, and I have got something ready for us both now. But look here, my lad, this isn't at home, and I'm not going to drive out the swine, and you are not going to your wax table. We are soldiering now, and whether it's two thousand or only two, things are just the same. We have got to keep a sharp look-out for the enemy." "You didn't," said Marcus, quickly, "or you would have seen me following you." "That's right," said Serge, "and it was because I could think of nothing else but about being such a bad un as I was and forsaking my post. I dursen't look back either, for fear that I should see someone following me. But that's all over now; you and me's joined forces, and we must go on straight. I don't think it's necessary, but we will just take a look round for danger before we sit down to enjoy our breakfast." "Enjoy?" said Marcus, dubiously. "Yes, that's right. We shall both have company over it. It's been precious dull to me, being all alone. So now then; take the lead, captain, and give the orders to advance for a scout all round before we sit down to our meal." "Very well, then," cried Marcus. "Forward! This way first." "Yes, but that's too much of it," said the old soldier. "A commanding officer don't make speeches to his men 'cept when he's going into action, and not always then. What you ought to have said was just `forward!' and then advanced with your troops to follow you." Marcus nodded and smiled, and, side by side and spear in hand, they climbed to the highest ground, carefully surveying their surroundings of wood and rock--every place, in fact, likely to give harbour to an enemy, till all at once Marcus threw out his left arm across his companion's breast, and, stopping short, stood pointing with his spear to something half hidden behind a patch of bushes upon the other side of the stream. Serge sheltered his eyes on the instant, and gave a satisfied nod. "Right, captain," he whispered; "but your force isn't strong enough to surround the enemy. You must advance in line. It's an ambuscade." The half-concealed figure was nearly a hundred yards away, and, by the time they had covered half the distance, Marcus' keen young eyes sent a message to his brain, and he whispered to his companion in an awe-stricken voice: "It's that wounded man. He has lain down to die." The old soldier uttered a low grunt, and sheltered his eyes again. "Looks like it," he said, "but we had best make sure. Tell your men to level their spears and advance at a run. Dead men are dangerous sometimes." Recalling the lesson he had just received, Marcus lowered his spear and uttered the one word: "Advance!" They broke into a sharp trot, straight for the horrible-looking, stiffened figure which lay crouched together in an unnatural attitude just behind a bush; but, before they were half way, there was a quick movement, a sharp rustling of leaves, and the dead man had sprung up and was running as swiftly as a deer. Marcus stared in astonishment, looking so surprised that Serge lowered the butt of his spear and rested upon its shaft in his familiar home attitude when the staff he carried was terminated by a crook instead of a keenly-pointed blade. "There, you see, my lad. That's the sort of dead man you have got to beware of after a fight. They are a very dangerous sort; like that fellow, they are crippled a bit, but they won't stop to be buried. They don't like the idea. What they do is to play sham till their enemy has marched by 'em, thinking they are real, and then when some poor fellow is looking forward, one of them dead barbarians lets him have it in the back. There, we will go and sit up on the top there, and I'll lean up against your back, and you shall lean up against mine while we eat our breakfast and are busy with our teeth, and leave our four eyes to play watchful sentry till we've done." Marcus felt quite willing now that the excitement caused by the flying foe was at an end, and, soon after, Serge's little store was drawn upon, and, quite happy and contented, the two old companions made what Marcus thought was the most appetising breakfast he had ever had in his life. "Hah!" cried Serge, as they rose at last. "Now let's go down to the stream for a drink. Always camp, my lad, beside a river or a lake; and if you can't--" He stopped short. "Well, if you can't?" said Marcus. "Why, then you must go thirsty, same as you must go hungry too sometimes. Didn't I always teach you that a soldier's first duty was to learn how to fast?" "Oh, yes, I remember," said Marcus, as he lay down to drink, while his companion watched, and then drank in turn, rising to say, as he drew a long, deep breath: "There, that's as much as I want now. Nice clear water, and we've left plenty for the next as comes. But a deal of trouble I used to have in the face of plenty to make you believe it was a soldier's duty to learn how to fast. You always were the hungriest boy I ever knew." Marcus laughed, and looked wonderingly at his companion, who now stood up stiffly with his hands resting upon his spear. "Well, Serge, what now?" cried Marcus. "Only waiting, captain. Orders to advance." "Forward!" cried Marcus; and, the next minute, with eyes eagerly scanning the track in front, they were marching together side by side on the way to Rome. CHAPTER FIFTEEN. WEARING ARMOUR. It was some hours afterwards, when the sun was beating down hotly, that Serge suggested that they should have half an hour's rest in the shade of a clump of huge, spiral-barked chestnuts, whose dark, glossy-green leaves were spread over a bend of the track which had evidently been slightly diverted so that those who followed it might take advantage of the shade. The trees were approached cautiously, and the pair scouted round the clump to make sure it was untenanted before they stretched themselves amongst the mossy, radiating roots that spread far and wide. "There seem to have been plenty of people here," said Marcus, pointing to where the soft, moist earth was full of imprints. "There have been wheeled carriages here." "Yes," grunted Serge. "Those are ox waggons. See?" "Yes," said Marcus. "But those others are different." "Yes," said Serge. "Chariot wheels, those." "How do you know?" said Marcus, sharply. "Look at 'em," grunted the old soldier. "Can't you see they are light? They are made to gallop. Those others were made to crawl. Why, it's printed all about that they were chariot wheels. Look at the marks of the horses' hoofs." "Oh yes, I see," cried Marcus. "The waggons show nothing but the feet of oxen. But how come there to be chariot wheels about here?" "How did that Roman general, Caius Julius, come to the farm?" "I don't know," said Marcus, starting. "I never thought of that." "I did," said Serge, with a grunt which might have been copied from one of the swine he had so often driven. "How did he come?" cried Marcus. "Same way as he went back to Rome." "Of course," cried the boy, impatiently. "But how was that?" "With chariots and horsemen." "Are you sure? I saw none." "Didn't go down to the village to look?" "No; I had too much to think of." "So had I," said Serge; "but I went and looked all the same. There was a grand chariot and a lot of horsemen, and it was in that chariot that, after walking down to the village, the master went away." "Oh, then they must be far ahead," cried Marcus. "Yes; at Rome before now." "And I have been expecting that we might come upon them at any moment," said Marcus, with a sigh of relief. "Then we shan't see them till we get there?" "And like enough not then," said Serge, with a grim smile; "so you may make yourself comfortable about this scolding that's got to come, for it won't be yet." "But we shall see my father as soon as we get to the army." "Some time perhaps," said Serge; "but the army will be miles long perhaps on the march, and it's hard work, boy, to find one in a hundred thousand men." "Then we may not find him!" cried Marcus, in an agonised tone. "Well, no, my lad, but you may make your mind happy about that. One man's not bound to find his general, but his general's pretty sure to find him, or the legion he is in. There, don't you fidget about that. If you and me hadn't done any harm we should be pretty safe, but so sure as one does what one ought not to do, one may make up one's mind that he'll be found out." The rest was pleasant, but Marcus did not feel so satisfied in his own mind when they started once again on the tramp. It was on the evening of a hot and wearying day that Marcus sat in a shady grove, gladly resting, while Serge was relieving him of his armour and carefully hanging it piece by piece from, one or other of the branches by which they were surrounded. "Grand thing, armour," said the old soldier, as he watched the tired boy from the corners of his eyes. Marcus started from a waking dream of Rome and its glories as he pictured it in his own mind. "Oh yes," he said, hastily; "glorious!" "Nice and bright and shining, and makes a man seem worth looking at when it's on, eh?" "Yes," said Marcus, with a faint sigh. "How proud you felt when you'd got yours; eh, my lad?" "Yes, very," said Marcus. "Nice dress to walk in." "But it's rather heavy in this hot weather," ventured Marcus. "Heavy, boy? Why, of course it is. If it wasn't heavy the barbarians' swords and spears would go through it as if it was sheep skin. But yours fits you beautifully, and will for ever so long yet--if you don't grow," added the man, slily. Marcus turned upon him peevishly. "Well, I can't help growing, can I?" he cried. "Oh no, boy; course you can't till you've done growing, and then you won't grow any more." "Do you think I don't know that?" snapped out the boy. "No. Oh no; but what's the matter with your shoulder?" "Nothing much," said Marcus, sourly. "Those shoulder straps rub that one, and the back part frets my neck." "Does it? That's bad; but I'll put that right when you put it on in the morning. Don't you mind about that: after a bit your skin'll get hard, and what feels to worry and rub you will be soft as a duck's breast." "Nonsense! How can bronze and brass get to be soft as feathers, Serge?" "Oh, I dunno, my lad," replied the old soldier, slowly, "but it do. I suppose," he added, mockingly, "you get so much glory on your shoulders that it pads you out and makes your armour fit like wax. It is heavy, though, at first. Mine worried me the first day, because I hadn't worn it for years; but it sits lovely now, and I could run and jump and do anything. Helmet too did feel a bit lumpy; but I felt it more in my toes than on my head." "Are you laughing at me, Serge?" cried Marcus, turning upon the man, sharply. "Can't you see I'm not, boy? Why, I'm as serious as a centurion with a new command." "But do you think I'm going to believe that you felt your heavy helmet in your toes?" "Of course I do, boy," said the man, chuckling. "If it's heavy, don't the weight go right down to the bottom and drive your toes hard to the very end of your sandals?" "I didn't think of that, Serge," said the boy, a trifle less irritably. "S'pose not, boy. You haven't got to the end of everything that there is to know. Besides, your helmet is light." "Light?" cried Marcus, bitterly. "Well, of course it aren't as light as a straw hat as you can tilt off every time you come into the shade, and let it hang between your shoulders, same as you do your shield." "And I suppose that is?" said Marcus, sharply. "What, as a straw hat, boy? Well, I don't say that," said Serge, drily, "because it do weigh a tidy bit. But that helmet of yours, as I took care should be just right for a boy, is too light altogether." "Bah!" cried Marcus. "Why, it has made my forehead and the back just behind my ears as sore as sore." "Pooh! That isn't because the helmet's too heavy; it's on account of your head being so soft and green. It'll be hard enough before the end of this war. Why, if it were lighter, every crack you got in your first fight would make it give way like an eggshell; and then where would you be, my lad? Come, come, cheer up! You're a bit tired with this tramp-- the first big one you've had. You'll be better in the morning, and before this time to-morrow night I dare say we shall be in sight of Rome and its hills and the Tiber, and, take my word for it, you won't feel tired then." "Think not. Serge?" "Sure of it, boy. Man who's a bit worn out feels as if everything's wrong, and the flies that come buzzing about seem to be as big as crows; but after a good sleep when the sun rises again to make everything look bright, he sees clearer; the flies don't seem to buzz, only hum pleasant like, and what there is of them is golden-green and shiny, and not a bit bigger than a fly should be." "But I'm disappointed, Serge. I hoped to see my father as soon as I reached Rome, and get this trouble off my mind." "Instead of which it has to wait. Well, never mind, lad. It will be easier perhaps then. Now then, you do as I say: lie down at once close up there to that dry, sandy bit, and sleep as hard as you can till morning. Then we'll set off and get to Rome as soon as we can, and hear about the army and which way it has gone." "Perhaps it will not have started yet?" said Marcus, eagerly. "Like as not, my lad, but, if it has, we can follow it up. Now then, be sharp, for I want to lie down too. We shall be fresh as the field flowers in the morning, for no one is likely to disturb us here." Marcus said nothing, for he knew that the old soldier's words were meant to encourage him, and he thought so more than ever, as, free now from his heavy armour, he lay looking upward, listening to the faint hum of beetles and seeing the glint of the stars through the trees, while he thought of their journey and the disappointment he felt over Serge's words, while it seemed to him all a part of his thinking instead of a dream--a confused dream when he fancied himself back at the old house seeking for Serge and finding the dog crouched down in the shed where the great stone cistern stood, and in the harvest time the grapes were trodden, those grown in their little vineyard and those from the neighbouring farms where there was no convenience of the kind. But as he was about to turn away and fasten the door, it seemed strange that the place should be lit up by sunshine coming aslant through the trees, when it was late in the evening and dark. But so it was, with Lupe couching down, making no attempt to follow or pass him as he closed the door, but resting his long, fierce-looking jaws upon his extended paws, till, after trying hard to puzzle out why it was so, Marcus came fully to his waking senses and sat up suddenly, while Lupe followed his example, to burst out into a deep, joyous bark. "What!" now came in a deep voice from behind Marcus. "Why, Lupe, dog, have you found your way here?" CHAPTER SIXTEEN. THE NEW RECRUIT. The dog had been lying for hours watching the sleepers, who had lain perfectly unconscious of the presence of such a sentry and guardian, while he had crouched there with his muzzle almost touching Marcus' breast, pricking up his ears at the slightest sound made by some nocturnal food-seeking creature, and uttering a low sigh of content as he settled himself down again. Several times over he had heard some sound which he could not understand, and upon these occasions he sprang up, smothering the low growl that tried for exit, and seeming to understand the necessity for caution, he began to reconnoitre in the direction from which the suspicious noise had come. Had anybody been there to watch the dog, what they had seen would have excited wonder at the amount of reason that the animal displayed; not that Lupe, big wolf-hound, one of the kind kept by the peasantry in the far-back past for the protection of their flocks, was anything exceptional, for plenty of dogs at the present time are ready to display an instinct that is almost human. Point out some very human act, and there are plenty who will tell you either that it is the result of teaching, or that it has come naturally from the dog's long continued intercourse with man. One ventures to think that it is something more than teaching that makes a shut-out dog wait till he sees what he considers to be a suitable stranger whom he has never seen before, and then trot up to him and begin to gambol and lead him on till the gate or door is reached, stopping short then and saying as plainly as a dog can speak in barks--not the most expressive language in the world--Open it and let me in. Lupe was evidently a dog that could reason in his way, and attributing two of these interruptions of the night to the presence of wolves that had come prowling down from the hills, he set off cautiously, with the thick, dense hair bristling up about his neck, his armour against his deadly enemy's teeth, and his black gums retiring to display his trap-like jaws full of glistening ivory teeth. And all the time, in spite of his efforts, there was a low, deep sound like young thunder rumbling somewhere in his chest. But in each case, before he had gone far, Lupe's reason told him that his natural enemies did not come prowling down from the mountains during the soft summer nights, but waited till their hunger was sharpened by the frosts of winter, and that he was over-anxious regarding the safety of those he had come so far to find, judging rightly that the sounds he had heard and magnified were only caused by some innocent little animal which did not smell in the least like a wolf. So he trotted slowly back, making sounds suggestive of mutterings against his own stupidity, and dropped quietly down once more to watch. "Why, Serge," cried Marcus, "how could that dog manage to find us all this distance from home?" "I dunno," said the old soldier, stooping down to caress the savage-looking beast in his customary way, which was to bang him heavily on both shoulders with his great, horny hand, the blows given being such as would have made an ordinary dog howl; but their effect upon Lupe was to make him half close his eyes, open his wide jaws, and loll out his long, lambent tongue, which curled up at the end; and, as it quivered in the fresh morning light, he rolled over upon his back and began patting playfully at Serge's hand. "Don't knock him about like that, Serge," cried Marcus. "Knock him about?" cried the old soldier. "Why, he likes it; it loosens his skin and makes it fit easy, and knocks out the dust. How did he manage to find his way here? Ask him. I dunno. I left him at home, yelping about and uneasy like, looking as if he'd like to go at the general and tear his toga off his back." "I left him," cried Marcus, "hunting all over the place to find you. He came twice over into my room, whining and asking me where you were." "Did he?" cried Serge. "Good old dog!" And he gave the animal a few more of his tender caresses, with the result that the dog wriggled himself along snake-like fashion upon his spine, and then made a playful dab at his friend's hand. "I found him at last," continued Marcus, "in the press-house, and when I came away I shut him up." "What, to starve?" "No, no; I thought he would howl till someone came and let him out; but I didn't want him to follow me. Someone must have let him out in the morning." "Oh, I don't know," said Serge, who began replacing his armour. "He'd have got out somehow, through the window or roof." "He couldn't," cried Marcus. "Think not? Then he'd have scratched a way for himself under the door." "Well, but then?" "Oh, then--he'd have stood and smelt about till he'd got hold of our scent, and then come on." "What, all this way and all this time? The scent couldn't have lain so long." "It never seems to me that there's any scent at all," said Serge, "but old Lupe there somehow seems to do it. He _is_ a dog, and no mistake. Why, he's lost himself time after time going after the wolves when I have been out hunting, and it has seemed to me that I should never find him again. Why, you know, he's been away sometimes for days, but he's always found his way back. Well, now then, give yourself your orders to get ready to march, and let's get on to Rome." "Yes, of course," cried Marcus. "But how do you feel, lad? You seemed ready to knock up last night, tired out." "Did I?" cried Marcus, flushing slightly. "Did yer? Why, you seemed sore all over, whining about your armour and your helmet." "Oh, nonsense!" cried the boy, as he hastily followed his companion's lead, handily buckling and securing his defensive armour the while. "We had had a very long march, and it was as hot as could be. I feel quite fresh this morning." "Ready for anything, eh? Well, what about this chap?" "Lupe?" "Yes; we don't want him. The general won't want him to join." "No-o," said Marcus, thoughtfully, as he stooped to pat the dog's head, a favour which Lupe responded to by leaning himself as hard as he could against his young master's legs. "I should like to have him with us, Serge." "So should I, boy, if it comes to that. He'd have been splendid with us, and saved us scouting when those rough uns were hanging round. Why, if I had had him with me when those six came on they would have been no worse than three, and I shouldn't have wanted you." "Yes," said Marcus, thoughtfully, "I should like to keep him with us, but I'm afraid we shall have to send him away." "Send him away!" cried Serge. "You may try to send, but he won't go. We can't take him with us," continued the man, drily, "and it looks to me as if we shall have to make an end of him and hang him on the nearest tree." "What!" cried Marcus with a look of horror. "You wouldn't be such a brute?" "No," said Serge, slowly, "I suppose I wouldn't; but what are we to do? The first captain that we speak to when we get to the army and ask him to let us join his lot will shake his head at us if we bring a dog." "Yes, I suppose so," said Marcus, thoughtfully. "But look here, we wouldn't bring him. We didn't bring him. He came. The country's free for all, and if he chooses to follow us we are not to blame." "Well, that's right. Are you nearly ready?" "Yes," said Marcus, taking his helmet from where it rested in the fork of a young tree, and lowering it slowly upon his head. "Does it hurt?" said Serge. "Oh no, it feels quite comfortable now. Why?" "Because you put it on as if it were red hot. But give the word `forward,' captain, and let's march. The first farm or house we come to we must halt and forage. My wallet's empty, and we want something very much better than water for our next meal." "Forward, then!" cried Marcus, and the dog responded with a volley of his deep barking, and bounded off before them, old Serge smiling grimly the while. "Got his nose straight for Rome," he said, with a laugh. "Why, if I was a general, Master Marcus, and going to lead our armies against the barbarians as won't let us alone but keep on attacking and wanting to come to plunder the riches of the place, and carry the Roman people off as slaves, do you know what I'd do?" "Beat them and drive them back, and make them slaves instead," replied Marcus. "Ah, but besides that, my lad, I'd get together an army of dogs like our Lupe, and set them to work to tear 'em down and chase 'em away." "Oh, barbarous!" cried Marcus, laughing. "Barbarous! Aren't they barbarians? Why, I don't believe you could manage it in a better way." CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. TOO LATE. It was the beginning of a tramp that lasted days. Rome had been soon reached, but they were too late to witness the turmoil of excitement that had preceded and accompanied the departure of the last division of the army which, Marcus and his companion gathered from a group of invalided soldiers left behind, had been tarrying and awaiting the return of Caius Julius to assume the supreme command. He, they were told, had been away upon a mission to claim the assistance of some great general who was supposed to be an old friend full of wisdom; and he, they told Serge, had been brought in triumph to the city, to place himself with Julius at the head of the waiting men. "You should have been here then," said one old man, "and seen the welcome they had from our gallant boys and the women who crowded the streets waiting to see them go. Ah, it made the tears come into my old eyes to think that I should be left behind." "Then why were you left behind?" growled Serge. "You are not an older man than I." "No," said the old soldier, laughing softly, "but you have two legs to march on. I have only one and this stick." Marcus glanced sharply down at the speaker, and, seeing the boy's intention, the old fellow laughed again. "Oh, yes, you are thinking I lie. There's two of them, my lad, and one's as good a leg as ever stepped; but as for the other, it's years ago now, when I was with Julius, and I got a swoop from a Gallic sword; the savage ducked down as I struck at him, and brought his blade round to catch me just above the heel. But he never made another blow," continued the old man, grimly. "My short, sharp sword took him in the chest, and he never hurt a Roman again." "But you got over your wound?" cried Marcus, eagerly. "It soon healed up, my lad, but he had cut through the tendon, and I was never fit to march again, or I shouldn't be talking to you here. But look here, old fellow, you were ready enough to twit me about not being with the army. Why are you not there?" "Can't you see we are too late?" growled Serge, angrily. "Oh yes, that's plain enough," said the old man, maliciously, as he rested upon his staff, "and some great fighting men who win great battles with their tongues are always too late to strike a blow. How is it you are late like that?" "Oh, that's what you want to know, is it?" said Serge, surlily. "Yes," said the old man. "A man with legs like yours ought to have been there." "Well, I'll tell you," said Serge. "It was like this. My chariot had gone to have new wheels. But perhaps I might have made the old ones do. But both my chariot horses were down with a sort of fever. Then the driver had gone away to get married and couldn't be found, and so I had to walk. And now you know." "Bah!" cried the old man. "Look at your rough hands! You have been like me. You never had a chariot or horses of your own. You're only a working man. All lies." "Every word of it," said Serge, grinning, "'cept that it's true about me and the youngster here having to walk like our dog. But we want to get there, brother, as soon as we can, so put us on our way to overtake the army, or by a short track to cut it off." "Do you mean it?" said the old soldier. "Mean it? Of course!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "The division, mind, that's led by Caius Julius." "Ho, ho, my young cockerel!" cried the old man. "Then nothing will do for you but the best?" "Nothing," cried Marcus, eagerly. "We want to be where that great general is that Julius went to seek. Now put us on the way." "That's easily done," cried the old man. "There's a troop of horse that sets off to-night to follow the rear-guard, and they'll have chariots with them too. Go and see if you can get along with them. You've no horses, but you might run beside the chariots, and their drivers, as soon as they see there's stuff in you and that you want to fight, will give you a lift from time to time." "Run beside the chariots, eh?" said Serge, with a laugh, as he glanced at Marcus. "Running would suit you better, my lad, than it would me. I've got a deal more flesh to carry than you have, and running is not good in armour with a big helmet on your head. You'd have something to grumble at about feeling sore, or I'm mistaken. But never mind; we want to get there, don't we?" "Oh yes, we must get on," cried Marcus, "and if we can't run we can walk." "What I was going to say," cried Serge, "so put us on the right way, old comrade," he continued, to the old cripple, "and you shan't want for something to pay for to-morrow; eh, Marcus, my lad?" "Oh no," cried the boy, thrusting his hand into his pouch; but Serge clapped a hand upon his arm. "Wait a bit, boy," he said. "Don't pay for your work until it is done." A short time before, weary with their long tramp, the disappointment of finding that they were quite left behind had made the future look blank and dismal. But the old cripple's words seemed to bring the sun out again, and he hobbled along by their side through street after street, chattering volubly about his old experiences with the army and his disappointment now in seeing the sturdy warriors march off, legion after legion, leaving him behind. "Ah," he said, "it's lucky to be you, able to go, and luckier still for you to have met me who can lead you to the place where the last party are camping." "Where's that?" said Marcus, sharply, for the man seemed to be taking them a very devious course. "Just outside the gate, over yonder. There, you can see the wall, and in a few minutes we shall be there." The old soldier's words proved to be quite true, as, at the end of a few minutes, he led them to the little camp, all astir with the soldiery preparing to start--horsemen, chariots, baggage, horses and camp followers, all were there, with the leaders fuming and fretting about making the last preparations, and eager to make the start. The old soldier gave his new friends a nudge of the elbow and a very knowing look. "I know what to do," he said. "You leave it to me. I wasn't in a marching army for years without learning something. Yonder is a big captain, there by that standard. Nothing like going to the top at once. Come along." The old cripple drew himself up as well as he could, and, thumping his stick heavily down, led the way to the fierce-looking captain, whose face looked scarlet with anger and excitement. "Here, captain," cried the old man. The officer turned upon him angrily. "Who are you, and what do you want?" he roared. The old man pointed to Marcus and Serge. "Two brave fighting men," he cried; "volunteers, well-armed and trained, who want to join." "Oh, I've all I want," cried the captain, roughly, "and--" He stopped short, for, as he spoke, he ran his eyes over the two strangers, resting them longest upon Serge, and he hesitated. "Here, you," he said, as he noted the way in which Marcus' companion was caparisoned, "you've been in the army before?" "Years, captain," cried Serge, with military promptness. "I served with Cracis and Julius in the old war." "Hah! You'll do," cried the captain. "But I don't want boys." Marcus' spirits had been rising to the highest point, but the contemptuous tone in which these words were uttered dashed his hopes to the ground, and he listened despairingly as in imagination he saw himself rudely separated from his companion and left behind. The thoughts were instantaneous, and he was consoling himself with the reflection that Serge would not forsake him, and anticipating the old soldier's words, as Serge turned sharply upon his new commander. "Boys grow into men, captain," he said, sharply, "and I've trained this one myself. He can handle a sword and spear better than I." "Hah!" cried the captain, as he looked critically at Marcus, examining him from top to toe, whilst, as if for no reason whatever, he slowly drew his sword, while Marcus, who stood spear in hand and shield before him, in the attitude he had been taught by Serge, quivered beneath the captain's searching eye. "Trained him yourself, have you?" "Yes, captain--well." "He can use his weapons?" "Yes, captain." To the astonishment of both Serge and Marcus, and as if without the slightest reason, the big, burly, war-like captain made one step forward and with it like lightning he struck a blow with his sword right at the comb of Marcus' helmet, such a one as would have, had it been intended, brought the boy to his knees. But Serge had spoken truth when he said that he trained Marcus well, for, quicker in his action than the deliverer of the blow, Marcus had thrown up his shield-bearing left arm, there was a loud clang upon its metal guards as he received the sword blow, and, the next moment, the captain drew back as sharply as he had advanced, to avoid the boy's short spear, directed at his throat. "Good!" he cried. "Well done, boy!" And he began to sheath his sword. "Your teacher, an old hand, no doubt, could not have done better. Why, boy," he continued, "you are a soldier, every inch," and he grasped the lad by both arms. "But this won't do; you must lay on muscle here, and thicken and deepen in the chest. That helmet's too heavy for you too. Yes, you are quite a boy--a brave one, no doubt, and well-trained; but you are too young and slight to stand the hardships of a rough campaign. I should like to take you, but I want men--strong men like your companion here--and I should be wronging your parents if I took you. Whose son are you, boy?" "My father is Cracis, sir, a friend of Caius Julius, and he is at the front." "Ha!" cried the officer, looking at him searchingly. "Then why are you at the rear?" Marcus' spirits had been rising again, and his eyes were sparkling, lit up as they were by hope; but at that question down they went directly to the lowest point. He tried hard to look firmly in the captain's face, but his eyes would blench. He tried to speak, but he could not answer, and he stood quivering in every nerve, shamefaced and humbled, while his trouble increased and he turned his eyes upon Serge, looking appealingly at him for help, as the big officer suddenly exclaimed, as he caught him by the shoulder: "Why, you young dog, it's all written in your face! You've run away! Ha-ha! I don't mean from the fight, but to it. Let me see. Am I right? You being a trained young soldier, wanted to go with your father to the war, and he told you to stay at home. You've run away to follow him. Am I right?" Marcus looked at him firmly now. There was no shrinking in his eyes, for he was uttering the truth. "Yes, sir," he said, huskily; "quite right." "Well, but I say, captain," growled Serge, "that's all true enough, every word. But the boy aren't a bit worse than me. The master said I was to stop at home and mind him and the swine and things about the farm; but I couldn't do it with the smell of battle in the air, being an old soldier, don't you see, and the master gone to lead. I felt like the boy did, ashamed to stop and let one's armour rust when Rome's enemies were waiting to be beaten. I felt obliged to come, and so did young Marcus here. A brave boy, captain, so don't be hard." "Hah!" cried the captain, frowning severely. "A nice pair, both of you! It isn't likely, but how could I meet Cracis or Julius by and by if I took you into my following?" "Oh, we'd keep out of sight, captain," growled Serge. The captain pointed mockingly at Marcus. "He doesn't look much like a boy who'd keep out of sight, old warrior," he said. "Far more likely to thrust himself into the front with all the unbalanced rashness of a boy. A nice pair indeed! But I should like to have a thousand of you, all the same. No, I don't think I ought to take you, boy," he continued, slowly, with a very severe frown gathering on his forehead. "But look here; I don't like to stand in the light of one of Rome's brave sons, however young, at a time when our country needs their help. But tell me, boy; if I say to you, go back home and wait a year or two till you have grown more of a man, you will go back at once, will you not?" "Shall you tell Serge to go back too?" replied Marcus, sharply. "Most certainly not," said the captain, laughing. "He has offered his services, and I have taken him. You will have to go home alone. Tell me, will you obey my orders?" "No," said Marcus, firmly. "I am not going to forsake old Serge." "You are a pretty fellow for a volunteer," cried the captain, merrily. "Ask me to take you into my following, and, at the first command I give you, tell me flat to my nose that you won't obey!" "I'll do anything else you tell me, captain, but that," cried Marcus, quickly. "Well, boy," said the captain. "But stop. What shall you do now?" "Find my way to the army alone," said Marcus, quickly. "You'd never do that, boy. The country ahead is in a state of war, and swarms with ruffians hanging about the heels of the army like wolves following a drove of sheep--worse, these, than the enemy. Boy, before many days had passed you'd be stripped of all your bravery, robbed for the sake of your weapons, and left dead or dying somewhere in the forest." "I can fight, sir," said Marcus, proudly, "and my sword and spear are sharp." "Yes, boy, and I should be sorry for the one or two who tried to stop your way. But wolves hunt in packs, and can pull the bravest down. Are you heeding what I say?" Marcus nodded. He could not speak, but stood gazing at Serge, who had taken off his helmet and with a face full of perplexity was vigorously scratching at his grizzled head. "Well, boy," continued the captain, "I have thought it over and I must do my duty, which is to send you back." "Oh!" cried Marcus, and throwing his spear sharply into his left hand he held out his right to Serge. "But if I do that duty," continued the captain, "it will be to expose you to greater risks amongst the marauders gathering everywhere now than if I take you with me." "And you will let me come?" cried Marcus. "I am obliged to, boy," said the captain, smiling, "for I can't help feeling that Cracis, if we meet, would blame me more for doing my duty than for letting you come. Here, old man, you shall not tramp after our horse to come in weary and distressed at every halt. I'll put the boy, as he is Cracis' son, in one of the chariots, one of the light ones drawn by Thracian horses. There are several with their drivers yonder that I have not yet manned. You as his spearman may accompany him, of course. There, boy, no thanks," continued the captain, sternly. "I have no time for more. Off with you to your place. One of my officers will see that all is right. What is that man? Away with you!" he shouted to the old crippled soldier, who had heard all and now hobbled forward to speak. But a couple of soldiers placed their spear shafts before him and drove him back. But Marcus had seen, and sprang after him, dived under the spears and pressed a few coins into his hand before he was hurried away, babbling his thanks. "I'd about given it up, Marcus, boy," said Serge just then. "Here, come along; here's a young captain waiting to show us where to go, and my word, talk about a piece of luck! I thought I was going to be taken away, never to see you again, and here we are. A chariot and pair with our own driver, and me to sit behind you and do nothing but tell you how to fight. Here, come along. Talk about a piece of luck! How old are you? Eighteen. Why, you'll be a general at the end of another week!" CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. THE CHARIOTEER. "I shall never be able to do it, Serge," said Marcus, nervously, as he stood with his old companion looking admiringly at a pair of fiery-looking little steeds harnessed to a low chariot just big enough to afford room for three. The little pair were being held, stamping and covering their sides with the foam they champed from their bits, by a short, broad-shouldered, swarthy driver, who had his work to restrain the impatient little animals. They were less in size than what would now be termed cobs, almost ponies, but beautifully formed, arched-necked and heavily maned and tailed, a pair that had excited admiration in the boy's eyes as soon as he saw the chariot to which he had been led. But they were almost wild, and ready to resent the buffets given by their driver with teeth and hoofs. "A chariot to be proud of," Serge had growled in the boy's ear. "Why, a captain needn't wish for better. I don't know what the master will say when he sees you." "Oh, don't talk about the meeting, Serge. I feel so excited," replied the boy, and then he added the words which head this chapter. "Never be able to do what?" cried the old soldier. "Manage the chariot. It seems too much for me." "Tchah!" cried Serge. "Don't want no managing. You've got your driver to take you where you tell him right at the enemy, when you get your orders to advance, and cut them up. You'll stand there in front with your spear or javelin, and I shall sit behind ready with spare ones for you to throw when you are amongst the enemy, and stop anyone who tries to come up behind if he's foolish enough. But I don't hold with throwing javelins. It wants a lot of practice, and those who have practised most, when they are going at full gallop, are pretty well sure to miss. I should like for you to use your spear, and keep it tightly in your hand. It means closer quarters, but your thrusts are surer, and you do better work. Besides, you don't lose your weapon." "But I feel it's almost too much for me." "Then don't feel at all," said the old soldier. "Go and do what you've got to do along with the cavalry when you have got your orders, and don't think at all. What you have got to do is to skirmish and drive the enemy, and what I have got to do is to mind they don't skirmish and drive you. There, jump in boldly, and look as big as you can." "Nonsense! How am I to look big?" "By opening your mouth, boy, and speaking loud. You are not afraid?" "Oh no, I am not afraid," cried Marcus. "Then don't let that little driver chap think you are," whispered Serge. "Act like a captain. That little fellow is only your slave, but if you put on a scared look he'll try to play the master. Unlucky for him if he does, for, if he don't do what he's told, I'll crack him like I would a nut." There was no time for more conversation, for the little detachment under the captain's command had already begun to advance; an order was brought to the cavalry, and the chariot driver appealed to Serge to come and stand at the horses' heads for a moment while he took the reins. Serge changed places with him directly, while the driver assumed the reins, the slight touch upon the ponies' withers making them snort and plunge as much as Serge's strong arms at their bits would allow. Then a trumpet rang out, Serge joined his young master in the chariot, and in a few minutes the ponies had settled down into a steady progress at the rear of the column. Exciting days followed, during which Marcus began to learn lessons of what it meant to advance into an enemy's country, the necessity of being constantly on the alert, where everyone was unfriendly, and to loiter behind the main body meant being cut off, leaving the loiterer's place in the column empty. It was all new to Marcus, as those days passed on, and his captain followed exactly in the track of the army that had gone before, working his men hard, practising various evolutions, keeping them on the alert and ready for action at a moment's notice. It was on one of these occasions, many days after their start, that towards evening a halt was called just after the column had moved out from a narrow mountain ravine, such a place as had presented plenty of opportunities for the enemy, had they been near, to descend from one of the side gorges and attack, to the cutting off of the column. And all this had necessitated careful scouting and watchfulness on the part of the leader. But at last it seemed as if they had ridden out into safety, a wide, open plain stretching before them, suitable for forming camp for the night, where there was no risk of ambush or surprise. A murmur of satisfaction ran through the column as posts were set, fires lit, and the men began settling down. Marcus' horses had given up a good deal of their wildness and begun to form a kind of friendship with Lupe, who had narrowly escaped execution, consequent upon the effect that he had had upon Marcus' chariot pair, who, whenever he came near, had exhibited a frantic determination to tear off at full speed, and this generally where the ground was of the very roughest character and the destruction of the chariot would have been certain. It had been a difficulty, but, like other difficulties better or worse, it had been mastered, and, instead of meeting his death, the constant training, through which the chariots and horsemen had passed, resulted in the above-named friendly feeling, and now, at an advance, the dog took his place just in front of the fiery little steeds and trotted before them, while when they halted, he took it as a matter of course that one or other of the beautiful little animals should stretch out its arched neck, nuzzle among his bristly hairs, and at times close its teeth upon the back of the dog's neck and attempt to raise him from the ground. "I should never have thought he would have stood it, my lad," said Serge; "but he has found out it means friendly, or else he'd bark and let them have his teeth in turn." This was said as the sturdy driver was freeing the pair from their place on each side of the chariot pole and twisting up their traces, for night was falling fast, and the men's fires were beginning to twinkle here and there. "Tired, boy?" said the old soldier, who was carefully removing the dust from his armour. "Horribly," replied Marcus. "I want to lie down and sleep. Oh, how I can sleep to-night!" The words had hardly passed his lips when there was the blare of a trumpet, followed by another and another, with the result that it seemed as if a nest of hornets had been disturbed, for a loud buzzing filled the darkening air, leaders' voices rose giving orders, and there was a murmur punctuated, so to speak, by the clinking of armour, the rattle of weapons against shields, and the whinnying and squealing of horses, accompanied by angry cries from those who were harnessing them again. "And I was so tired, Serge," said Marcus, as he finished hurrying on his armour. "What does it mean?" "An alarm or an advance; I can't say which, boy. But be smart. We may get our orders at any moment." "I shall be ready directly. There, he has done harnessing the horses. Down, Lupe! Quiet! Keep away from their heads." The dog crouched in front, just beyond the reach of one of the horses, waiting patiently for what was next to come. "Ah, you are the best off, after all," said Marcus, "You just get up on all four legs, give yourself a shake, and you are ready for anything." The dog looked up, gave the speaker a friendly growl, and then let his head rest again upon his extended paws, while Marcus walked to the side of his chariot horses to pat and caress their arched necks, friendly advances which were now accepted by the savage little animals without any attempts to bite, while he could pass behind them now without having to beware of a lightning-like kick. "All ready?" growled Serge, who had just loosened the throwing spears he had laid in the bottom of the chariot. "Oh yes, I am ready; but can't I lie down and sleep till the order comes to advance?" "No, you can't," growled Serge. "A soldier shouldn't want to sleep when he is waiting for the trumpet to sound." "Oh, I don't know," said Marcus, peevishly. "I should have thought he ought to snatch a little sleep whenever he could." "That's right," said the old soldier, grumpily. "But he can't now." "Why?" said Marcus, with a yawn. "Because the foot soldiers are starting now, and the horse went scouting on ten minutes ago. I wonder we haven't got our orders before this." "Why, we shouldn't have been ready if they had come," said Marcus. "No," growled Serge. "We with the chariots are horribly slow. It's all through having to depend upon these driver fellows and our horses having to drag a clumsy car at their heels. Now look here, I am beginning to think that the enemy's afoot coming down to surprise us, and, if so, we with the chariots shall have our turn." "What makes you think that?" cried Marcus, shaking off his drowsiness at these words. "I don't know, boy, only I do. In with you. Now we are off." The driver was already in his place as Marcus sprang into the chariot, and seized one of the throwing spears, to be followed directly by Serge; for an order rang out, there was a peculiar sound as the horses started at the first shaking of their reins and the guttural cries of their drivers, and then, in a fairly well-kept line, some twenty of the war-like cars, drawn by their snorting horses, advanced in line over the moderately smooth plain in the direction already taken by the foot and horse. But as they nearly came within touch, the mounted figure of the captain was seen facing them in front, where he sat ready to give a fresh order, when the line of chariots broke, as it were, in two, half passing him to left, the other half to right, to take up position on the flanks of the infantry, which was about a couple of hundred yards in advance. The next minute from out of the darkness ahead there came faintly the sound of shouts, accompanied by the beating of hoofs, and a horseman tore up to the captain, to make some communication which caused him to set spurs to his horse and gallop forward, while Marcus, as his chariot rolled on, rested his hand on the front and peered forward over his horses' heads into the bank of gloom which now grew more and more alive with sound. There was the heavy tramp, tramp of armed men, followed by the sudden rush and thunder of hoofs, while where he stood there was the rattle of the chariot wheels and the cries of the drivers as they urged their horses on. "How are you, boy?" said Serge, hoarsely, with his lips close to his young master's ear. "Oh, I'm well enough," was the reply, "but I can't see. I want to know what we are going to do." "Don't you want to lie down and have a sleep?" said Serge, grimly. "Sleep? No! I want to understand what's going on." "What for?" growled Serge. "What's it got to do with you?" "What has it got to do with me?" cried Marcus, without turning his head. "Yes; what's it got to do with you? That's the captain's business. We are advancing slowly, and by and by when the enemy has passed through our cavalry, and delivered its attack upon our foot, and they are coming on--I can hear them hurrah, boy! This isn't a false alarm. Hear that shouting?" "Hear it, yes!" "That's the enemy, and they are very strong too." "How do you know?" "I can hear them, boy." "Oh, then why don't we gallop forward and attack?" cried Marcus, excitedly. "Because it arn't our time. There! Hear that?" "Yes; what does it mean?" cried Marcus, as a dull, low, clattering sound was heard. "Why, you ought to know by now. That's our foot-men joining shields together to receive the enemy's horse, which must have scattered ours. They are driven back, and they will come round behind us if I am not mistaken." "What, have they run away?" cried Marcus. "Oh no, boy. Bent back to right and left. They were taken by surprise, I should say, and gave way. That's the art of war. And now! Hark at them! The enemy's coming down with a rush upon our infantry to cut them up and sweep us all away." "What!" cried Marcus, wildly. "And we in the chariots are ambling on like this! Oh, if I could only see something besides that line in front!" "See with your ears, boy, as I do," growled Serge. "This is the first bit of real work I have been in for many a year, but it's all going right. We have got a captain over us who knows what he is about. There! What did I say? Hear that?" It was plain enough to hear: a confused rush of galloping hoofs away in front beyond the line of infantry, another thunder of galloping horses panting and snorting as they rushed by in the darkness close at hand, and another body away to Marcus' left, beyond the second half of the line of chariots. This ceased directly afterwards, and, as the boy glanced back, he could see a mass of horsemen forming up behind the cars, while, at the same moment from away in front, there was a terrific burst of savage yells, answered by shouts of defiance and the clatter of spears and shields, mingled with a confused clash as the enemy's horsemen charged home upon the infantry. Marcus' ears rang with the confusion of sounds which followed--cries of agony, shouts of triumph, and the trampling of horses, and then a roar, above which rang out somewhere near at hand the shrill note of a clarion, whose effect was to make the chariot horses burst into a gallop. "Now we are off," shouted Serge into the boy's ear. "Your spear, lad. Throw when you get a chance; I have another ready for you. But don't waste your stroke." Marcus heard, but he did not heed, for his heart was beating violently, his head swimming with excitement, and he felt half stunned, half maddened, as he was borne onward, his chariot about the middle of the little line so close together that, moment by moment, it seemed as if the wheels of the cars on either side must come into collision. But the collision was not to be there, for as, excited by the yells of their drivers, the little pairs tore on, there suddenly seemed to spring up out of the darkness ahead a confused crowd of mounted men; and then there was a shock, and Marcus felt his car leap forward on its wheels, rising on one side as if to overturn, but coming down level directly and bounding oh again at the heels of his excited steeds. He could not see to right or left, but he was conscious that there were other chariots tearing on beside him, and there was another shock, and another, mingled with yells and cries, and then they were racing on again apparently being hunted by a body of horse, and it seemed to the boy as if his and his fellow chariots were in full flight. But just then there were the faint notes of a trumpet, and, as they tore on, the line of chariots swung round as upon a pivot and began to tear back. And now it seemed to Marcus that the horsemen who had been pursuing them were taking flight in turn, and, as he realised this, the boy shouted to his driver to drive more swiftly. "No, no!" yelled Serge, furiously. "Steady! Steady! And keep in line." "But they will get away!" cried the boy, mad now with excitement. "Bah! You don't understand," cried Serge. "Those are our horsemen." Another trumpet brayed out and the cavalry in front of the chariots swung round to right and left, making an opening through which they passed, slackening their speed, but careering on till Marcus made out a solid body of infantry on his right front. A minute later the chariots had wheeled round again in the infantry's rear, and in the distance there was, dying away, the sound of hoofs. "Well, boy, what do you think of that?" said a voice in Marcus' ear. "I--I don't know," panted Marcus, as short of breath as if he had been running hard. "I don't think I understand." "Ha, ha!" laughed Serge, hoarsely. "I don't suppose you do. I don't quite myself, but I should think that was a big body of the Gallic horse who came down thinking to surprise us and to snuff us out. But they found out their mistake." "And where are they now?" panted Marcus. "Oh, far away. You can just hear them in the distance. They have gone off beaten, with their tails between their legs. Couldn't you feel how we cut them up?" "Cut them up!" said Marcus. "Yes. Don't you remember how we tore through them, crash into their midst, after they were broken from their charge upon our infantry, which stood together like a rock? It was splendid, boy, though it was almost too dark to see." "Oh yes, I recollect something of it; but it was all wild and confused and strange. I couldn't see anything clearly." "No more could anyone else, boy. We, who do the fighting, never see." "Because it was so dark to-night." "It would be just the same by day. But, hallo! Where's your spear?" "I don't know," said Marcus, staring. "Oh, I think I remember, I threw it at a horseman, just before we went crash upon him and the chariot was nearly overturned. But there, don't ask me. It seemed to be all one wild struggle and noise, and my head's all whirling now." "Well, what did you expect it to be?" "Oh, I don't know," said Marcus. "But tell me, Serge, have we won?" "Won? Of course! We Romans always do. This was through our leader's skill, training against an undisciplined horde of horsemen, twice our number I should think. They are in full retreat, and I expect we shall find they have left half their number upon the field." "Hark!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "Here they come again!" "No, boy; not at a gentle trot like that. Those you hear are the best portion of our horsemen who have been pursuing and scattering the enemy far and wide. Rather exciting all this, my lad, eh?" "Exciting? Yes! Only I couldn't understand." "But your captain could, my boy, and won the fight. Here, catch hold of this; and next time you throw your spear, pick up another, sharp." "But oughtn't you to have given me one directly? You taught me something of the kind." "So I did, boy; but you see I have been out of practice for many years, and forgot my duty in the hurry of the fight; but I won't do so again." CHAPTER NINETEEN. OLD SERGE MUSES. "Sure you are not hurt, boy?" said Serge, as they stood waiting by the chariot for further orders, their sturdy little driver taking advantage of the opportunity to carefully attend to his steeds. "Hurt? No!" cried Marcus. "I only feel hot and excited." "Of course you do; but I don't suppose we shall move now for some time, till the captain's scouts that he must have sent out bring back news of the enemy, and then he will camp for the rest of the night. He ought to. I should, so as to give the men a rest ready for when the enemy attacks again in the morning." "But you said that the enemy were beaten and driven away." "So they were, boy, but in a war like this they will only make for the mountains and collect together again ready for a fresh attack as soon as they get the chance." "But will they keep on doing that?" cried Marcus. "Of course they will whenever they feel strong enough; and when they are weak they will give up." "Oh, I don't understand it a bit," cried Marcus. "Well, you don't want to understand it," said Serge. "That's for the generals and big captains to do. All that they want of us is to fight." "But why is this war?" said Marcus, impatiently. "Oh, I suppose it's because some of the tribes have been attacking and plundering and carrying off cattle and goods of the country people, till the chiefs say: This sort of thing must be stopped, and they collect an army, talk it over with the peaceful tribes who are ready to be friends, and then with their help march into the enemy's country, conquer it, and bring them to their senses. That's what we do, and used to do--bring all these nations round about under the rule of Rome. These we are fighting with now are the peoples off to the north and west. They have got all sorts of names, but I suppose they are all Gauls. But now look here: a bit ago you were so tired out with your long march that you wanted to sleep. Half the night hasn't gone, so the best thing you can do is to curl yourself up and sleep till sunrise as hard as you can." "Sleep!" cried Marcus, mockingly. "Who's to sleep at a time like this?" "A soldier, of course, and be glad to when he gets the chance." "Oh, I couldn't sleep," cried Marcus. "I feel all bubbling over with excitement, and if I were to lie down I should seem to be galloping over the fields again." "Nonsense! You lie down and have a sleep. You always used to mind what I said when I tried to teach you. Do so now, and get some rest." "But suppose they come back and attack us again?" "Well, we shall have warning. There are scouts and sentries out in all directions, and you would have plenty of time to get up into the chariot, I dare say. There, lie down." "Don't you order me, Serge," said the boy, peevishly. "You are not my officer." "No, we are only comrades, and I am not ordering, only telling you for the best. There, get a sleep, boy, while you can." "Well, I'll lie down, but I can't sleep, Serge. I shall be thinking about the war, and the tribes that are coming to attack us, all the night." "Very well, boy, think about them, then, as you are so anxious to understand all about the war. I'd be sure and call you when you are wanted. I am not greedy about having all the fighting to myself. You shall have your share." "Very well," said Marcus, and selecting a place that seemed a little less hard than the stony ground in their close neighbourhood, and where he was not likely to be trampled upon by any of the chariot horses, he threw himself down, but started up again in alarm with his hand seeking his sword, for a big lump of stone dimly-seen in the darkness suddenly seemed endowed with life, springing up to give itself a rough shake, and assuming the form of a big dog. "Why, Lupe, you here?" cried Marcus, laughing. "Look here, Serge; he was lying here curled up, asleep. Where's he been all the time?" "Taking care of himself and waiting for us to come back, I suppose. There, do you want a lesson in campaigning, boy?" "No, not to-night, thank you. You said I was to go to sleep." "Of course; and here's your lesson all the same. Make Lupe lie down, and use him for a warm, dry pillow. Not a bad thing at a time like this. A deal better than a horse, for it isn't always you can get them to lie down, and a horse's hoofs are rather bad company if he gets restless in the night." Half irritably in his exalted state Marcus turned away with a gesture of annoyance. "Down, Lupe! Lie down!" growled the old soldier; and as the dog obediently subsided on the rough ground, the boy thought better of it, sank upon his knees, and then awkwardly in his armour adjusted himself so that he could lay his face with his cheek in the rough hair about the dog's neck. There was something comforting and friendly in the deep, satisfied sigh Lupe gave, holding quite rigid as he stretched himself out, while Marcus said to himself: "Oh, this is stupid! I shall never go to sleep like this;" and he lay staring right before him at the indistinctly seen chariot with its pair of horses standing together, one or the other every now and then giving an impatient stamp or whinnying softly. Beyond them and their driver all was dark confusion, out of which came murmurs of voices, the jingling of armour, and a suggestion of people passing to and fro. And then the darkness seemed to lighten and horses were tearing along at full gallop with the enemy in front, and Marcus gave a sudden start, his sharp movement producing a low remonstrant growl from his pillow. "What was that?" thought Marcus. "Why, I must have been asleep. Ah, there it is again!" For from somewhere out of the darkness there came a low agonised cry which made the boy sit up and listen. "Are you there, Serge?" he said, softly. "Yes. What is it, boy?" came from the back of the chariot, where the old soldier had seated himself; and he rose at once and crossed the few yards which lay between him and his young companion's resting place. "Did you hear that?" asked Marcus. "Oh, yes, I heard it, boy." "What was it?" "A wounded man. They have been carrying some in from over yonder." "How horrible!" whispered the boy. "Let's go and help him." "No, go to sleep. You can do nothing there." "Sleep!" cried the boy, reproachfully. "Who can sleep with anyone suffering like that?" "You," said Serge, quietly. "You have been asleep an hour, and of course there have been plenty of poor fellows carried by, enemies and friends." "But--" began Marcus. "Go to sleep again, boy. You can do nothing there. We'd go together if we could help." Marcus was silent as he lay resting on one hand, listening and thinking what it was his duty to do, but listening in vain, for no such sound again broke the silence of the night, while after standing by him a few minutes, Serge walked away into the darkness and then returned to his seat in the chariot, where he too, utterly devoid of all inclination to sleep, sat and thought about their position there and asked himself whether it was yet too late to reverse their plans, and seeking the first opportunity to hurry his young companion away from the scenes of carnage and the dangers by which they were surrounded. "I have done wrong all along," he muttered to himself. "I went against my orders, and some day I shall have to face the master and answer for myself. Yes," he muttered, "I must take him back." And with the full intention, as he sat there leaning his left shoulder against the side of the chariot, of leaving the little rear-guard of the army as soon as he could, Serge changed his position to the other side of the chariot to rest his right side, and as he subsided against the hard iron-bound wood, listening for danger, the galloping-in of scouts, or some other warning of another night attack, a fresh current of thoughts began to chase each other through his brain. "No," he said, "I won't go, and if I would he'd say again that he wouldn't come. He's a soldier's son, and it comes natural to him. What am I growling at myself for? I didn't set him to run away. He came of himself, and if I hadn't done the same he'd have been here all alone without me to watch over him, take his part, and help him, same as he did me when I was attacked. Why, after all, everything's gone right and happened as it should. We are in for it, and must go on. But this won't do; I mustn't go to sleep." And springing up, the old soldier took a few steps up and down like a sentry, before stopping short and going down on one knee, steadying himself the while by means of his spear, and bending over Marcus, who was sleeping heavily, his breath coming regularly as he lay there deaf to everything that was going on around, while the dog uttered a low whine and lifted his heavy tail slowly, to beat with it softly upon the ground. "He's all right," said Serge, and he backed away again, to march up to the horses, pat them, and then say a word or two to their driver, who was lying upon his back just in front, sleeping heavily and quite unconscious of Serge's presence. The latter took another turn or two up and down, thinking deeply the while. "Yes," he said softly, "what I told the boy's about right, and I can tell him some more to-morrow, for out here in the darkness and silence all my old soldiering seems to be coming back. We are a sort of rear-guard, that's what we are, and it's our job to keep some miles behind the main army, to prevent the enemy from closing in and harassing our troops, besides seeing that they carry out the general's orders and bring up the food and forage they as a conquered people are ordered to supply. Conquered people!" he said, with a contemptuous ejaculation. "Why, it's like digging a channel through a bed of dry sand. I know what this country is. If we go on like this for a few days we shall be right in amongst the mountains, full of holes and hiding-places where the enemy can lurk, and as fast as they are driven off they will be like dry sand, as I said, and come running back again." Serge went and bent over Marcus again to satisfy himself that the boy was sleeping deeply, and uttered a low grunt that might have been learned of the swine he tended at the farm. "Do him no end of good," he muttered--"strengthen his legs." And he began to walk up and down again, pausing once or twice to pat the horses and growl at the driver, who was sleeping hard with his mouth wide open. "Yes," muttered the old soldier, "a good sleep will do the boy good-- harden his legs. I said my old soldiering was coming back; I wish my old legs would come back and be the same as they used to when I could walk for weeks, instead of aching like this when I haven't had to walk, but have been riding all day. Hah!" he sighed, as he lowered himself down into the back of the chariot to lean against the side once more. "I can keep watch over him just as well sitting down as standing up. I don't see that I need watch at all when the boy's got a pillow with a set of teeth like a rat trap that will take fast hold of anyone who came to interfere with him. But there's the master. We have got to meet some day, and I shall have to give an account of myself. `What were you doing away from the farm?' he'll say. `Watching over your boy, master,' says I. That will have him on the hip. That's my only chance, the only thing that will save me." Serge's grim face relaxed, and he rolled about in his seat, chuckling softly. "It will get me off," he said; "it will get me off with the master. He won't be very hard on me after that. It aren't quite honest, for I never thought a bit about the boy when I went away. But I did mean to take him back, and I'd have done it too, and stopped with him, only he was too much for me. Ah, he's a clever one. He's only a boy, but he's got a lot of man in him, and when he gets ripe, you mark my words," he said, softly, staring hard at the dimly-seen driver the while, "he'll be as big a man as his father. I don't mean as to size; like as not he'll be bigger. I mean as to his head. It aren't quite fair, and maybe it's a bit like deceiving the master to answer him like that when he says, `What are you doing there?' and I says, `Watching over your boy, master,' But I am going to watch over him, and I'll stick to him, and I'll die for him if I'm obliged; and you can't say that arn't honest." Serge bent forward and literally glared at the sleeping driver, who muttered something in reply. "Ah, you may say what you like," muttered Serge, "but that will be honest; and if you put that in one side of the balance, and my forsaking the old place when I was told to stay, in the other, they'll weigh pretty much alike. Yes, I'll watch over him, master, like a man, just as I would have done if he had been my own, for somehow I always seemed to like him, and I suppose I should have felt just about the same if he had been mine. It's precious dark and quiet enough now. I don't suppose we shall be disturbed before daylight, for the enemy got more than they expected, so I may just as well sit and rest. I can watch over him just the same, and--" Serge's next utterance was not understandable if treated as words, but perfectly plain if considered as a snore, for he had sunk sideways till his head rested on the hard edge of the car, while at regular intervals he gave vent to a series of deep gruff tones which sounded as if his neck were bent at such a severe angle that there was not room for his breath to pass comfortably round the corner. It was not comfortable for him, for though he was sleeping very soundly, his rest was uneasy, consequent upon which he began to dream in a troubled way about being at home; and his busy brain put its own interpretation upon the sounds that rose from his chest and interfered with the soundness of his sleep, so that, half awakened, he lay back listening to his own snoring and attributed it to something else, gradually awakening more and more the while. "Hark at that!" he muttered. "And after all the trouble I took to mend that bit of fence! Talk about sheep always following one another through a gap, why they are nothing to swine! They want a gap, too, for the leader to go through, but an old boar big with that snout of his and them tusks, he'll bore and bore and bore till he makes a little hole a big un, and once he gets his snout in he drives on till he gets right through. Now, I've mended that hole so as you'd have thought it was quite safe; but hark at that! He's got right through into the garden, and the old sow and the young uns has followed him. But just wait a bit till I get my staff, and I'll make such music as will bring Master Marcus out to ask me if I am killing a pig. There's no room about the place to please them, no miles of acorn and chestnut forest so that they can fill themselves as full as sacks, but they must come into my garden and raven there! Nothing will do for them but my melons and cucumbers! Well, we'll just see about that." Serge rose from his seat, after taking hold of the spear that he had rested against the side of the chariot, and with his eyes closely shut took a couple of steps forward, and then stopped short with his eyes wide open, as he stared wildly round in an absolute state of confusion and strove hard to make out where he was. For some moments his mind was a complete blank, and the darkness seemed impenetrable, while his mind absolutely refused to answer the mental question--Where am I? Then he knew, and there was fierce anger in the low tones of his voice, which formed the self-accusatory words: "Why, I've been asleep!" He struck a sharp blow with the staff of his spear; but it was not at the imaginary patriarch of the home herd, but at his own head, which was saved from harm by his helmet, the stroke causing a sharp sound sufficiently loud to make Lupe utter an ominous growl, and the horses where they were tethered start and stamp. "And sarve you right too!" growled Serge, removing his helmet, which he had knocked on one side, and softly rubbing one spot that had felt the bottom edge keenly. "And here have I been going on about being honest and keeping a true watch over that boy! Here, I'm proud of myself, I am! If I go to sleep again it shall be standing up, anyhow." And pulling himself together he shouldered his spear and commenced pacing up and down, to keep it up steadily hour after hour, only pausing to listen from time to time, to hear nothing more suspicious than the regular night sounds of a camp surrounded by sentries and scouts and on the watch for an enemy known to be near at hand. Marcus slept well till daybreak, when the first warning of the enemy's movements was given, and he sprang to his feet, to find himself face to face with Serge. "What was that?" he cried. "Trumpet, boy. Make ready. The enemy's going to stir us up again." CHAPTER TWENTY. IN THE SNOWY PASS. Serge's announcement was quite correct, for while the Romans rested, the enemy had been gathering together again among the hills, and were coming on in force to attack the camp; but what they had failed to do by their night attack proved doubly difficult in the light of day. The little Roman force, though vastly outnumbered and surrounded, was well commanded by a skilful officer, who was able, by keeping his well-disciplined men together, to roll back the desultory attacks delivered on all sides, till, quite disheartened, the enemy retreated in all directions and the march was resumed again. That day's tramp and the many that followed were a succession of marches through an enemy's country, with the foe always on the watch to harass the little force, and cut it off from joining the main invading body far ahead. Every day brought its skirmishes, with victory constantly on the Roman side. There was no want of bravery on the enemy's part, but the discipline of the little civilised division with its strong coherence was too much for the loose dashes, ambushes, and traps that were laid. The consequence was a slow, steady advance that nothing could impede, through the fertile plains of the South and ever onward, with the snow-capped mountains growing nearer and nearer, till the great pass was at hand that had been traversed by the main army, and no difficulty was then experienced as to the route, for its passage was marked plainly enough by the traces of the many encounters and the ruin and destruction that indicated its way. "Shall we never overtake them?" said Marcus, one evening. "Well, if we keep on I suppose we shall," replied the old soldier. "But what's your hurry? Are you tired out?" "Oh, no," cried the boy; "we don't go fast enough for that; but I am anxious to join father once again." "Humph!" grunted Serge. "I don't feel so much in a hurry myself. Perhaps we shan't overtake him at all." "But we are going to join the army." "We are going just where our captain takes us, boy. He's doing his work splendidly, and so are we." "What, keeping on with these little petty skirmishes?" "Of course, boy. Don't you see how we are keeping the enemy from closing in about the army's rear, and saving them from destroying and burning every homestead and village whose supplies are wanted for our men?" "Oh, I don't quite understand," cried Marcus, impatiently. "Leave it to your leader, then, boy. That's what a good soldier ought to do. But what's the matter with you? Cold?" "Yes, horribly. Why, it was as hot as could be in the valley this morning." "Well, no wonder," said Serge, with a grim smile. "We were all amongst the trees and pleasant grass down there, and now on each side and straight before you--" "Yes," said Marcus, as he glanced around him. "It looks all very bleak and bare down here." "Up here, boy. We have been steadily rising all the day. Look at the ice and snow up yonder and straight before us. This time to-morrow we shall be shivering amongst the snow." "But we can't get the horses and the baggage right over that mountain in front." And he pointed at the jagged peaks and hollows which were glistening like gold in the last rays of the setting sun. "No, boy, but we can go on along this rugged valley, which leads right through, and then when we get to the top of the pass begins to go down again, when we shall find it getting warmer every hour till we are once more in the plains amongst the green fields and forests of the enemy's country. Look there at that stream," and the old soldier pointed to the dingy-coloured rushing waters which flowed by the side of the level which their leader had chosen as the site of that night's camp. "Yes, I see; and it isn't fit to drink," said Marcus. "Snow water," said the old man, shortly. "Well, which way does it run?" "Why, towards us, of course." "Well, by this time to-morrow, if it's like one that I tramped by with your father years ago, we shall have found it coming out from underneath a bed of ice, left it behind, and on the other side of the hill come upon another flowing right away to the north and west; and alongside of that road will be our road, right into the enemy's country, and the enemy posted every here and there to stop us from reaching the plain-- that is, if Julius and your father have not driven them right away. But most likely they have, and all our troubles now will come from the rear." Serge's remarks, based upon old experience, proved to be pretty correct, for the troubles of the little force began to come thick and fast. Up to the time of that last halt the attacks had been made by the little parties, each under its own leader, and they came from front, rear, and flanks, in all directions, for the rush made by one portion of a tribe would act as the signal for others to follow suit, and it frequently happened that the Roman soldiers were completely surrounded. But now as they moved on towards the north and west, the pass they had entered and which wound or zig-zagged its way more into the mountain chain which divided the land of the Gauls from the Roman dominions, closed in more and more, beginning as a beautiful open valley and gradually changing its nature as it rose till it assumed the nature of a gorge or rift. The sides were no longer soft grassy slopes broken by little vales which afforded shelter for the enemy, and from which they made their fiercest rushes, coming down like furious torrents from the hills and often in company with the streams by whose sides they made their way, but hour by hour grew steeper till they assumed the nature of rugged walls, impassable to any but climbers or the goats that browsed their sterile paths in herds. The mountains here towered up higher and higher in their stern frowning majesty, scantily furnished with growth, save here and there the earth that had been washed down from above afforded sustenance to a patch of spear-like pines with their dark, sombre, blackish green needles. The roughest of rough stony tracks was now the detachment's path, and it became hard work, approaching to climbing, for the heavily-armed foot soldiers, difficult for the cavalry--whose horses needed the sure-footedness of mules to get along, their riders having to dismount and lead their steeds--while for the little train of chariots the difficulties were almost insurmountable. The pony-like pairs that drew them were safer footed and got on better than the heavier animals that bore the Roman mounted men, but the chariots were always in need of help. Sometimes one wheel would be high in the air, sometimes the other, while often the drivers and riders had to make a rush to help drag or push the low, heavy vehicles over some more rugged spot. For there was no regular road now that they were beyond the Roman dominions, where directly a country was conquered the new owners set themselves to form a level military road, but simply a rough, rock-encumbered track. "Yes, it's bad going," Serge said, "but it would want a far worse way than this to keep back a Roman army. Our men with all their baggage have been along here, as you see, so of course we can follow; and it's splendid for us in the way of safety." "Yes," agreed Marcus; "every attack must come now from the front or rear. These mountain walls make splendid allies to guard our flanks." "Front--rear--flanks! Well done!" cried Serge. "I like that. You're getting quite the soldier, my boy." Matters proved to be better still as they moved higher up the pass, not in the way of the road improving, but respecting the difficulties with the enemy, for after the latter had made a brave stand in one spot where the pass widened out for a space, and fought stubbornly for a while, the little Roman force cut their way through and into the narrow portion where the walls of the gorge closed quite up on either side, leaving only room for the grey muddy stream and the road track along which Marcus and his friends made their way, completely freed from all attack save from the rear, where a fierce pursuit was kept up, fresh parties of the enemy giving up and retreating after delivering their attack and being rolled back. The fighting was sharp, the brunt of it being borne by the foot soldiers, who protected the rear, while the chariots were forced over the many difficulties and the horses helped along, a portion of the foot being far in advance, ready for any body of the enemy which might be blocking their way in ambush. It had been rough work that day, and the men, after the amount of fighting they had gone through, were beginning to look dispirited and feel disheartened, for in addition to the length of the struggle, the supplies had run short, and everyone knew that no more food could be obtained until they had forced their way through the desolate pass, over the summit, and down the other side to the cultivated and inhabited regions below. But their leader was well suited to his task, and he seemed to be everywhere, with a word or two of encouragement and praise, stopping to help the men with the baggage animals, heading a party sent forward to lever the great blocks of stone that impeded progress, and ready directly after to urge his trembling horse back among the rocks the moment the echoes of the shouts behind warned him that there was a fresh attack in the rear. There were two of these, one directly after the start at sunrise, and a second high up the pass at mid-day, when as he bade the horsemen and the chariots pass on, he laughingly in Marcus' hearing told his soldiery to make use of the loose rocks to form a rough breastwork behind which they could fight, and all the better for the cavalry being out of their way. That fight was bitter and long sustained, and as the turmoil came echoing up the gorge to where Marcus and Serge were striving hard to master the difficulties before them and urge their willing little chariot horses on, the latter frowned as he rubbed his blue nose and responded to something Marcus had said. "No, my lad," he replied; "they're not getting the better of our men, and they will not. We hear so much of what is going on because the sound comes up as if through a trumpet." "Comes up, Serge?" "Yes, my lad; we're a couple of thousand feet higher than they are below yonder, and the reason the fight lasts so long is because the enemy keep on bringing up fresh men." "Think so?" said Marcus. "I'm sure of it, my lad. Yesterday and before there were thousands of them scattered in droves all about us; now the pass is so narrow that they are all squeezed up together; and so much the better for us." "Why?" asked Marcus. "Because we've got such a narrow front to defend. Why, you know what a scrap of road there was where the captain halted his men." "Yes," said Marcus; "just like a gash cut through the rock." "That's right," said the old soldier. "Well, a line of twenty men would have been sufficient to guard that bit." "More than enough," said Marcus. "Right, boy. Well, he has got six or seven hundred there, and no army that the enemy can bring up can drive our men from that stronghold. There are only two things that can master them." "What are they?" said Marcus, anxiously. "Cold and hunger." "Ah!" sighed Marcus. "There, don't groan like that, boy," cried the old soldier, sharply. "It sounded as if you hadn't had anything to eat for a week, and I'm sure you're not cold." "Then you're wrong," cried Marcus, "for I am bitterly cold." "That shows you haven't worked hard enough. Come on and let's get behind the chariot and help the horses with a push." "Yes, presently," said Marcus, as he glanced at the brave little beasts, which looked hot in spite of the fact that a chilly wind was blowing down the gorge, and that they were standing up to their knees in snow. "I'm a bit out of breath too." "Don't talk, then, boy," growled Serge. "Save your wind." "But I want to talk," continued Marcus. "You've been over this pass before?" "Nay, not this one, boy, but one like it farther east." "Like this? But was it so strange?" "What do you mean by strange, my lad?" "Why, for us to be going to rest last night with the country all round seeming to be in summer, while as we've come along to-day we've got into autumn, and now we're going right into the depth of winter." "Yes, my lad, but it's summer all the same. It's only because we're so high up, same as you used to see it at home when you looked up towards the mountains and saw them covered with snow." "But this doesn't look like snow, Serge," said the boy, kicking up the icy particles. "It is more like piled-up heaps of hail after a heavy storm. Ugh! It does look winterly! Ice and snow everywhere, and not a green thing to be seen." "All the more reason, boy, why we should push on, get over the highest bit, and then every step we take will be for the better." "Shall we be out of this cutting icy wind that comes roaring up between these two great walls of rock?" "To be sure we shall," said Serge, cheerfully; "and it'll be something to talk about when we've done it and are down below in the warm sunshine to-morrow morning, eating new bread and drinking milk." "I don't want to talk about it, Serge," said Marcus, beginning to talk in a dull, drowsy way. "I shall want to sleep and rest. I feel as if I could do so now." "Do you? Then you mustn't; and we must stop anyone who tries to. Why, it reminds me, boy, of old times when we crossed that other pass. Some of our men would lie down to sleep, but they never got up again." "Why?" cried Marcus, in a horrified tone. "Frozen stiff, boy. Once you're up amongst the snow you can't stop, only to get breath; you must push on; and I wish someone would give me orders to go on now." Marcus was silent for a few moments, as if thinking deeply. "Don't feel more sleepy, boy, do you?" said Serge, sharply. "No; that seems to have woke me up," was the reply; and taking a few steps forward with difficulty, for his feet sank right in at every step, Marcus leaned over into the car and caught Lupe by the ear where he lay curled up with his rough coat on end. The boy's movement was quickly and excitedly performed, a feeling of dread having attacked him that the dog might have been frozen stiff; but at the touch the animal gave a cheery bark, bounded out of the car, and began to plough his way through the snow, at first after the fashion of a pig, and then by throwing himself down first on one side and then upon the other. "I was half afraid, Serge," said Marcus. "You needn't have been, boy," replied the old soldier. "You see, Nature's given him a warm, thick coat, and he makes it thicker whenever he likes by setting his bristles up on end." "But that would make it more open and thinner, Serge." "Nay, but it don't, boy. Somehow it keeps warm all inside between the hairs, and the cold can't get through." "I don't understand why that should be, Serge," said Marcus, thoughtfully. "I don't neither," said the man, "but it is so. It's one of those funny things in Nature. Why, look at the birds. What do they do when a snow storm comes down from the mountains in winter? They don't squeeze their feathers down tight, do they?" "No," said Marcus, thoughtfully; "they seem to set them all up on end, just as they do when they go to roost, and they look twice as big." "To be sure they do, boy. You don't feel sleepy now?" "No, not a bit. But I say, Serge, will there be more snow higher up the pass?" "Most likely, boy; and I want to get at the job of fighting our way through it. We ought to be going on. Hallo! Hear that?" "Yes. What does it mean?" "It's the reason why we with the horses are not pushed on. That's what I was afraid of." "Afraid?" "There, don't take a man up short that way," growled Serge. "I didn't mean afraid; I meant expected. The enemy have attacked our men right up yonder in the front, and they've got us between them. Well, all the better. Something for us to do, and keep us warm." "But I was hoping that we might be pushed on now." "So was I, boy, but it won't be yet," growled Serge. "I say, don't let your mouth get watering for the new bread and warm milk just yet." "No," groaned Marcus, rather piteously. "But it will be all the nicer and sweeter when it comes, boy. I say, there was only one thing that could possibly have happened to make us worse off." "What, having to fight in this snow, Serge?" "Nay, that would have warmed us, lad. I meant, come on to snow." "Snow at this time of year?" cried Marcus. "It snows up in the mountains at all times of the year, boy," growled Serge. "Down below in the plains it only rains, but up here it snows; and here it comes, and someone else too. I expect things are going wrong in the rear, or else he has heard the attack in front, and has come to see." For a blinding and dense squall of snow came raging through the pass, leaving horsemen and chariots as white as their chief, whose horse came churning its way through the hail-like coating that stood half way up the wheels, close to which its rider reined in. "Find it cold, my lads?" he cried cheerily, and was answered by a chorus of assent. "Well, I've brought you up news to warm you. The men below are holding the enemy in check, and they have begun to retire, which means to support us and drive those back who are trying to stop us at the head of the pass. Make ready. Ah, my boy, you there? Well, are you tired of seeking your father?" Marcus shook his head. "Well," said the captain, "tired or not there is no going back, for you could not cut through two or three thousand of the enemy alone. There, we shall soon be through this frozen pass, and making our way down into the sunny plains. Winter now, and summer this time to-morrow. Ready there, advance!" As their chief spoke loudly, Marcus caught sight through the haze of snow which seemed to hold the darkness of night above, the head of a column of the foot soldiers making a steady advance, looking as if they were wearing a fresh form of decoration, every man's helmet plume being increased in size by a trimming of the purest, whitest swans-down or filmy, flocculent silver itself. But there was no time for studying appearances; all now was stern, earnest work. At the first order given by the chief, Lupe seemed to take it that he was concerned, and set up a hoarse barking, which seemed to animate the chariot horses, notably his friends attached to Marcus' chariot, which began to stamp and paw up the snow beneath their feet, while when their driver took his place by their heads they plunged forward, tugging the heavy vehicle out of the ruts into which the wheels had cut for themselves. Then with the snow squall driving on before them leaving the trampled snow ahead freshly smoothed, and lighting the darkness of the night, there was a dull, grinding, creaking sound of wheels and yielding snow as it was trampled down into a better road, and good progress was made, for the slope in advance was more gradual, and the hollows and pitfalls between the rugged stones that strewed the way were levelled down. It was a strange and weird procession, as Marcus tramped on step by step with Serge, behind the chariot, into which Lupe had suddenly leaped to stand with his paws planted upon the front of the vehicle, which now looked as if it had been turned into silver. And there were moments when the boy felt that it must all be part of a dream. But there was nothing dream-like in the sounds that came downward between the great snowy walls, for they were those of desperate fighting--the shouts of defiance of the Roman soldiers mingled with the barbarous cries of the Gauls, who had gathered together again in the great gateway from which they had been driven by the troops of Caius Julius, and were now striving to prevent the descent of the Roman rear-guard into their fruitful plains, and if possible entrap these new troops between their own forces, which were holding them shut in the deep, long, wintry gorge. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. A GOOD COMPANION. It was a curious sound, that made by the snow which lay so thickly beneath sandal, hoof and wheel. As it was pressed together it literally squeaked as if it possessed feeling and remonstrated at being crushed down from light feathery snow into solid ice. The sounds it gave forth were at times quite loud, and were repeated back from the towering rocks on either side. Farther on it would be a soft crunch, crunch, mingled with the bumping of wheels and the plunging of a horse as it struggled to drag its hoofs out of some depression into which they had sunk, while, animated by the presence of their leader, the horsemen cheered on the animals they led, and the charioteers helped their pairs to drag the heavy cars over the snow-covered track. The pass grew more and more like some huge rift in the mountain which seemed to have been split open by lightning, whose form the deep way had in some degree assumed. For a few hundred yards the train would be going straight, till an acute angle was reached, when for a distance the line would be forced to almost double back to another point and double back again. It was a savage kind of zig-zag which always led higher and higher, while as they neared the top, the snow grew deeper and the walls on either side closer, while these were not only perpendicular but in many cases actually overhanging. The horses' hoofs and the chariot wheels at last sank in so far, in spite of their being unburdened, that the leader commanded a halt for rest, and as this order was obeyed, Marcus, from where he stood panting, with one hand that had been used to push forward the chariot resting now upon its back, felt awe-stricken at the strange silence that for a moment or two dwelt deep down in the jagged furrow, before it was broken by the peculiar panting of exhausted men and steeds who were striving to regain their wind, while a mist formed by the breath rendered everything indistinct along the line, as it rose visibly on high. For plainly now from the front came the sound of contending warriors, apparently close at hand, though far enough away as yet, but increased in power by being condensed into a narrow space, as it reverberated along the pass from wall to wall. But not alone from the front; fainter, but minute by minute gathering strength, similar sounds came from the rear, telling plainly enough of the fight that was going on where the foot-men were holding back the advancing enemy during a steady retiring movement that could hardly be called a retreat. "I don't like this, boy," whispered Serge, who was resting against the other side of the chariot. "Are we being beaten, Serge?" asked Marcus. "Oh, no, boy; they can't beat us. But they have got us in this narrow gully where only a few men back and front can fight at once. Why, you know for yourself here are all our mounted troops and us with the chariots doing nothing but struggle through the snow, and never getting a spear thrust at anyone. That's why I say I don't like it. I want to be doing something, and when I say that it's just what everyone feels as it makes his blood hot. I say, boy, you don't feel cold now?" "Cold?" cried Marcus. "Oh, no; I only want to keep going on." "Wait a bit, boy, and you shall have enough of that. Our captain isn't letting us rest just to amuse ourselves. It will be forward directly, and quite soon enough for the horses, for it's hard work for them; and I say," continued the old soldier, jocosely, "this is a bit of a change for you, my boy. You never thought there was a place like this so near to Rome, where the people are lying grumbling now because it is so hot that they cannot sleep, and panting just like old Lupe there." For the dog was just between them, sitting up in the back of the car, sometimes turning his head towards one, sometimes towards the other, lolling out his vibrating tongue and sending out puffs of visible vapour-like steam from Vesuvius. "He's making believe that he's been working very hard," said Marcus, laughing, "when he's been riding all the time. But all this does seem very strange, Serge. I couldn't have believed this was possible at the end of summer." "Suppose not," growled the old soldier. "You see, you don't know everything yet, my boy. There's a deal to learn, as I found out years ago when I first went to the war with the master. But it's all doing you good, and you will like it by-and-by when you look back and think of it all, for there isn't much time to think just now. I say, have you got your wind again?" "Oh, yes, I am ready, and the horses are beginning to leave off panting. I shall be glad when we make a fresh start. I want to get to the top." "That's what we all want, boy--to get to the top of everything--but the sooner we get to the end of this narrow crack and can expect that it will begin to open out and give us room to swing our arms, the better we shall all like it. The chief ought to be thinking of starting up afresh, for there's a deal of fighting going on back and front." The sounds that came floating to their ears, echoed from the snowy walls, made this all plain enough, while the shouting from the rear grew nearer and nearer; and then it seemed that the rear-guard was coming more rapidly on, just as the order to move forward came from the front and passed along the line. With a couple of halts for rest the troops plodded on and the horses struggled for another hour, and then, to the great delight of all, the word came back from the front that the height of the pass had been reached, that the head of the column was beginning to descend, and that not far in front their comrades were holding the enemy in check. This intelligence was like an invigorating breath of air to the little force. The men stepped out and dragged and pushed, and the cries of the drivers had a cheering sound, as they called upon their horses in a tone of voice which made the struggling beasts exert themselves more than ever. It was still terribly hard work, but there was no upward drag; the great strain was gone, for the descent was steep, and a great portion of the weight the chariot horses had to draw seemed to have been taken off. The pass was still walled in by towering heights, but it was rapidly opening out, and at the end of another hour the advance force, which had contented themselves with holding one of the narrowest portions of the way, had been strengthened, and pressed back the enemy. There was another halt of the chariots, to enable a portion of the troops from the rear to close up and pass through to the front to join the advance, a manoeuvre which the panting men, as they struggled over the beaten snow, obeyed with alacrity, eager to get into action and bring to an end the hours of suspense through which they had passed in comparative inaction while listening to the echoes of the fighting going on in front and rear. "There, boy," said Serge, cheerfully, as they found time now to talk as well as rest; "this don't look like being beaten, does it?" "I don't know," said Marcus, dubiously. "We seem as much shut up as ever." "Nay, not us! Why, the walls are ever so much farther back, and we have got more room to breathe." "But it's horribly dark still," said Marcus, rather wearily, "and the snow seems as deep." "Not it," cried Serge. "And see how it's trampled down. Then it isn't so cold." "Not so cold!" cried Marcus. "Why, it's terrible!" "Not it! Why, since we have been coming down a bit we have got more into shelter, and that cutting wind that came up the pass isn't whistling about one's ears." "Well, no," said Marcus. "That is better." "Better, yes; and so's everything else. It won't be long now before the pass widens ever so much, and we shall begin to leave the snow behind; and then as soon as we get on to level ground the captain will get his horse to work to drive the barbarians back towards the plains below, and then--you'll see that our turn will come." "To fight, Serge?" "Yes, boy. He'll be letting loose his chariots then, and when he does, the fighting will be over for to-day." "For to-day!" said Marcus, with a faint laugh. "Well, yes, it must be getting towards morning, and before many hours we shall be seeing the sun again, and if we are lucky have made a jump out of winter into spring. But there, keep up your spirits, boy. I can see a good breakfast ahead, and a long sleep in the sunshine waiting for us down below when we have cleared these flies out of our path. They are a worry now, but you'll see before long." Marcus was destined to see more than his old companion anticipated during the next few hours, and events began to crowd rapidly one upon another's heels. Their advance was no sooner strengthened by the foot-men who had been so long inactive while crossing the pass, than changes began to occur, foremost among which was the progress forward, the little force now pressing steadily on downward. It was wintry and dark and the fighting was still going on with the enemy, who were slowly giving way, while to balance this the attack on the rear was still kept up. But the pass was opening more and more, and during the next few hours the progress of the little force had been slow but steady, the first rays of the sun shining upon the jaded men and horses halted in a sterile amphitheatre surrounded by rocks which afforded a fair amount of protection, Nature having formed the hollow with but one entrance and one exit, her instrument for carving out the depression having probably been a huge river of ice descending from the heights behind towards the plains below, of which glimpses now began to appear. Rest was imperative, and evidently feeling that his position was far from safe, their leader had set a portion of his men to strengthen the opening front and rear by means of the ample supply of scattered rocks, many of which only needed a few well-directed thrusts to partly block up the rugged track and form an adequate defence. This done and his foot-men disposed to the best advantage for the protection of the still crippled mounted force, it was expected by all that a few hours' rest might be obtained. The position was bad, and their leader had intended to have pressed on downward to the plains; but the enemy in the rear had advanced so swiftly, their allies given way so stubbornly, that he was forced to seize upon the hollow which offered itself as being a natural stronghold, here to breathe his men and recruit for a few hours before making a final dash. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. THE CHIEF. Marcus woke up that same evening to find himself lying back in the chariot with Lupe sitting watching him intently. "Hallo, Lupe," said the boy, thickly; "what's the matter?" The dog's answer was given with his tail--just one sharp rap on the floor of the vehicle, nothing more. So Marcus looked round him, feeling confused, and wondering what it all meant, for after so much exertion and excitement his brain had taken a thorough rest from which the boy's body was now awakened, but not his thinking powers. "I don't quite understand it," he said to himself, as he caught sight of clusters of armed men, whose spears glittered in the evening sunshine, gathered together upon the mountain slopes around, and he soon satisfied himself that they were not Romans or any of the mercenaries whose appearance he knew. It was easy to see, for nearer to him were his own people, one here and there perched upon some eminence, evidently on the look-out, and by running his eye along the edge of the rough amphitheatre he could trace nearly all the sentries, and at the same time note that beyond them in every ravine running downward there were hundreds of those who he at once concluded were the enemy. "There are a great many of them," said Marcus to himself coolly, for he was not yet fully awake to his position, "and they seem to be very near; but our men appear to be ready for them, and the cavalry are standing with their horses waiting, I suppose, for orders, while--yes, the chariots! The horses are harnessed in. Are mine? Yes, and the driver ready." Marcus had raised himself to look over the front of his chariot--a movement which excited the dog, who began to whine, and then watched his master eagerly as if to see what he would do next. "It looks as if we are going to make a fresh start," thought Marcus; "and a good thing too, for it is chilly and cheerless; but we can't get away from here without fighting." This last thought came with a look of excitement, for the boy's brain was growing clearer and he was rapidly grasping the fact that they were surrounded by a vast number of the enemy. "What has become of Serge?" he said, half aloud. The old soldier came into sight almost as he asked the question, carrying a vessel of water in one hand and something that looked like a cake of bread in the other. "Awake, boy?" he said, as he came out. "I thought you'd be hungry when you did open your eyes, and so I managed to get this, but I've nigh had it snatched away three times as I came back, for our fellows are getting savage for want of food. Not that it matters much, for they'll fight all the better to get down to the plains and plunder." "Then we're going to fight, Serge?" cried Marcus, eagerly. "Not much doubt about that, boy." "And start downward for the plains?" "Ah, there's a deal of doubt about that, my lad. I dare say the chief would like to, but we're regularly shut up in this rocky hole." "But he ought not to have let the enemy shut us up, ought he?" "It was a case of can't help it, my boy," growled Serge. "From the time we halted this morning the barbarians have been gathering round and streaming down from the mountains, till there they are, thousands upon thousands of them, hanging on the hills and running down the hollows till they look like human rivers. We were obliged to have a rest and refresh, for a man can't go on fighting and marching for ever, even if he be a Roman; and ever since we've been resting the enemy has been collecting, till they are like you see. Well, why don't you look round?" "I did," cried Marcus, "and saw all this before you came. Then we're in a sore strait, Serge?" "Yes, a very sore one, boy; but eat your bread." "Not now," said Marcus, quickly. "Let me have a drink of water." He took hold of the vessel and had a long, deep draught, one which seemed to clear away the last mental cobweb from his brain. "Now eat a bit," said Serge, offering the cake; but the boy shook his head and swept the surroundings with anxious eyes. "Very well," said the old soldier. "You'll be hungry by-and-by." And slipping the cake into his wallet, he looked sternly at the boy, who turned to him directly. "Then you think that we shall not be able to cut our way out, Serge?" he said. "Sure of it, boy. They're too many for us." "Then what is to be done?" "What the chief likes, boy; but if I were he I should stand fast and let the enemy hammer at us till he grows tired of losing men." "Then you think we can beat them off?" "Yes, boy, for a time; but we've got no stores to speak of, and even Romans can't, as I said before, or something like it, go on fighting for ever. But we shall do our best." "Yes," said Marcus, with a sigh, as he looked thoughtfully round, unconsciously playing with the dog's ears the while, to that animal's great satisfaction. "But I don't like it, Serge." "You don't? Well, you're a queer sort of a boy, then," growled the old soldier. "I never met a boy before who said that he didn't like fighting." "I did not say so," cried Marcus, sharply. "I was talking about our position here." "Oh, I see!" growled Serge. "What about it? Strong enough for anything." "Perhaps so, but here we are shut in amongst all these rocks, with no room for the horsemen or the chariots to be of any use. How could we gallop along here, or how could the cavalry attack?" Serge took off his great helmet, wiped his brow with the back of his hand, and stared hard at his young companion for some moments, till the boy noticed the heavy, fierce look, and coloured. "Why do you look at me like that?" he asked. "Cause you make me, boy?" "How? What do you mean?" "Who taught you to talk like that, boy? Anyone would think you were a young general." "Nonsense, Serge!" cried Marcus, with the tint upon his face growing deeper. "I spoke like that because you taught me and made me understand about the uses and movements of horse and foot. I'm sorry I was not right, but you need not laugh at me." "What, boy?" cried the old soldier, warmly. "Laugh at you! Why, if I grinned it was because I was pleased and proud to see what a clever fellow you are growing up to be. Why, a well-trained old soldier could not have spoken better. You're as right as right, and it is unfortunate that our chief should be surrounded here in a place where he can't use the best part of his troops. But there, we won't argue about it. 'Tarn't a common soldier's duty to talk over what his general does. What he, a fighting man, has to do is to fight and do in all things what he is told. Do you see?" "Yes, Serge, I see, but--" Marcus ended by making a sign intended to mean, Hold your tongue. But Serge did not interpret it rightly. "Yes, I see what you mean, and it's of no use to say `but' to me. Our chief is a thoroughly good commander of men, and if he has got us into this hole of a place, where we are all shut up tightly without a chance to get out, why it's--" Serge stopped short, to draw himself up tightly, for all at once he understood the true meaning of Marcus' sign, having suddenly become aware of the fact that their captain had in going from post to post stopped close to his elbow, and had heard nearly every word that had been spoken, while it was evident that he was thinking of something else at the same time, for he finished the old soldier's sentence for him in the way he interpreted it. "Why, it is his duty to get us out of it, eh, my man? That is what you were going to say, is it not?" "Well, something like it, captain," faltered the veteran; "but I didn't mean no harm." "Of course you did not, but you were teaching this boy to criticise his superiors. Well, my man, you as an old soldier can see that we are in a very dangerous position." "Yes, captain." "And that if I try to cut my way out with the force I have at my command I may succeed." "You will succeed, captain." "Well, yes, I believe I should," said the captain, quickly; "but it would only be with the loss of a great number of men that could not be spared, and my division would afterwards be of little value to the main force." "Yes, captain; that's right," growled Serge. "Spoken like a good old fighting man," said the chief. "Now, then, speaking with your experience, what is best for me to do?" "Set the men to build up rough walls with the stones, twice as strong as you have already." "Good! Go on," cried the chief, while Marcus stood listening with his lips apart, and quivering with excitement the while. "Then sit fast and wait." "Without supplies?" "Plenty of water from the spring yonder," growled Serge. "Food?" said the chief, sharply. "Foraging parties," continued Serge. "Not to be depended upon in this high desert, man." "Capture the enemy's provisions," said Serge. "Doubtful, my man," cried the captain. "Can you propose nothing else?" "Send off messenger at once on to the generals in front, telling how you are fixed, and asking for help at once." "Hah!" cried the captain. "That is what I was waiting for you to say. Now for the messenger I must send to Julius and Cracis." "Someone who knows the country." "There is no one," said the captain, sharply. "Whoever goes must find his way by the traces left by the generals." "Yes, that's right, captain," said Serge. "Well, man, whom am I to send?" "Me!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "I'll find my father and take your message." "You shall, boy," said the captain, catching Marcus by the arm. "It is what I planned, for I am going to send to Cracis, who will be directing the forces and the arrangements of the campaign, while Caius Julius leads the men. You, boy, have one of the best chariots and the swiftest horses in the force. There is no need for me to write if you tell your father that you come from me. Tell him everything you know, and that I am going to hold out to the last, even if I have to butcher the horses that the men may live. Tell him I am in a perilous strait, and that help must come to save me and give the enemy a lesson that they will not forget." "Yes--yes," cried Marcus; "and I start at once?" "Not yet, only be quite ready to dash off yonder by the lower track which you can see leading downward through those hills. I say dash off, but only if the enemy make for you. If you are not followed hasten slowly for your horses' sake. Remember that he who goes softly goes far, and I want sureness more than speed." "But he can't get out yonder, captain," growled Serge, fiercely. "You are going to kill the boy." "Well," said the captain, with a peculiar smile, "could I honour the son of great Cracis more than by letting him die for the sake of his country?" "That's all very grand in sound, captain," cried Serge, grasping Marcus' other arm, "but he's my boy as much as his father's, and I won't stand by and see him go alone to sudden death." "Serge!" cried Marcus, fiercely. "How dare you! Captain, don't heed him; I am ready to go the moment you say the word, and--and--" "Well, boy?" "If I am killed," continued Marcus, struggling hard with his emotion, "and you ever see my father again, tell him, sir, that I went to my death doing my duty, as he taught me, and praying that he will forgive me for disobeying his commands." "I will, boy," cried the chief, warmly; "but it shall not come to that, for you will reach your father, I feel sure, and bring me the help I need." "He can't, captain, I tell you," cried Serge, fiercely. "Yes, you may punish me, a common soldier, for speaking as I do, but I tell you once again that I will not stand by and see my dear old master's son butchered, for it's nothing else. A boy like him, brave as he is, ought not to be sent, even if it is for his country's sake, when there are plenty of stout, strong men who could do the work as well or better, because they are hard and tough." "Be silent, Serge," cried Marcus, passionately. "Don't punish him, captain; he means well, but he is half mad to speak to you like that." "You need not appeal, my boy," said the captain, smiling. "I should punish no man for being brave and true to those he has served." "But I tell you, captain," raged out Serge, "that it would be like murder to send the boy like that." "Silence, old madman," cried the captain. "Why, I should be as mad as you even to think of doing such a thing. Listen, boy; be ready, and when the rest of the chariots are moved off towards the upper part of the track along with the rest of the force, you will keep back amongst the rocks. I shall lead the men myself and make a feigned attack as if I were going to retreat back by the way we came; and in the excitement and confusion, when the enemy yonder have drawn off to go to their companions' assistance and take me in the rear, you will watch your chance and escape." "Yes, I see," cried Marcus, excitedly; and the captain went on: "The chances are that if you are noticed no one will try to stop you. It will be thought that you are deserting and seeking your safety in flight." "Yes, yes," cried Marcus; "and now I shall be sure to succeed." "Yes, captain, that's better," growled Serge, in his deepest tones. "I like that." "Then take good heed to his safety, man," cried the captain, warmly, "and die for him if there is need, for I would rather lose a hundred men such as you than one like him." "But--but--" stammered Serge, "you don't mean--" "I don't mean!" cried the captain. "Why, the boy is right: you are an old madman to think that I would send that brave boy alone when he has such a faithful old follower as you at his side. No, no; go with him, and bring him back safely to me, along with the help I ask, or never see my face again." Before he had finished, rough old Serge, with the big tears standing in his eyes, was down upon one knee catching at the leader's hand and carrying it to his lips. "There, there, there," cried the captain, "time is precious. No more of this. Boy, you have the safety of this force in your hands. Old veteran, I give you charge as bodyguard of this, my young despatch bearer. I do not tell you to do your duty, both of you; I only say, remember Rome. Farewell." The captain turned quickly away to join a knot of his chiefs who were anxiously awaiting his return, and the next minute, fixed in their positions, neither feeling as if he had the power to stir, Marcus and Serge were alone. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. THE FIGHT BEGUN. Marcus was the first to break the silence. "Serge," he panted, "isn't he grand!" "Grand!" cried the old soldier, excitedly. "Grand arn't half big enough. He's a hero, that's what he is; and only think of me with a head like the old bull at home. Just as thick and stupid. Why, if he hadn't been such a great, wise, clever general as he is, he'd have knocked me down with the hilt of his sword. But it's all right after all, and look here, boy, you've got to do it." "We've got to do it, Serge," cried Marcus. "Why, the idea is splendid; but I say--Lupe?" "What about him?" "What are we to do with him?" "Nothing," said Serge, promptly; "he'll do for himself. Why, if you made up your mind to leave him behind he'd come." "I suppose so, Serge. There's no press-house here in which to shut him up." "No, and there's no other way of getting rid of him but cutting off his head," said the old soldier, grimly; "and you wouldn't like to do that." "Serge!" cried Marcus, taking for the moment his companion's words as being meant seriously. "Ah, I thought you wouldn't, boy," said the old fellow, smiling. "He'll hop into the chariot, of course, and when the way's clear we can let him down for a run, and do him good. But no more talking; we've got to get ready." "No," said Marcus; "we're soldiers, and all ready now. I can see nothing to do but wait till we see that it is time to go." "And that isn't far away," said Serge, "for here comes back one of the captains. Why, Marcus, boy, I feel happy enough to begin to dance. Just think of it: here we are off on quite a holiday, straight away for the Roman camp, to get to your father at once, and--Oh, my thick head! I never thought of that!" "Thought of what?" said Marcus. "What we're going to do: both of us going straight to face the lion and put our heads into his mouth." "You mean my father?" "Of course." "Nonsense! He will have no time to think of punishing us." "Won't he?" growled Serge. "Trust the master for ever forgetting anything. We shall have it, and sharply too, after him and Julius have come and done what they've got to do in the way they know how." "Pst! Don't talk," whispered Marcus. "Look, this officer is giving his orders to the leaders of the chariots, and here he comes to us." The boy was right, for a few minutes later the officer came quickly to him, and his words were very short. "You have your orders from the chief, young man?" he said. "Stand fast there among these rocks till the line of chariots has moved off, and then go down to the lower camp where the foot soldiers are as soon as they have changed their station." He turned away directly, and as their driver sprang up, quite on the alert as he saw that something was on the way, Marcus went to one pony, Serge to the other, to see that every portion of the harness was in proper trim; and Lupe leaped out of the chariot and then back to the front, to raise himself upon his hind legs and plant his paws on the front as if he were in command and issuing his orders, which took the form of a deep bay. Directly after a sub-officer, who was in command of the line, gave an order, each chariot was manned, and following one another in file they began rattling and bumping in and out amongst the rocks and hollows, slowly and noisily in the direction of the highest point of the pass from which the way had been fought so short a time before. "Look yonder, Serge," cried Marcus, as he gazed beyond the outposts in the direction of the hills that were dotted with the enemy. "Was looking, boy," growled the old soldier, "It's running all round us wherever the enemy can see. Why, it's like putting a stick into a wasp's nest and giving it a stir round." "Yes, look, look, look!" cried Marcus. "What an excitement! Does it mean that they are going to attack at once? Because if they are we shan't get off." "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 assist 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 massed together, and the light played and flashed from helmet and shield, 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 pass 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 pass. 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 pass, 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 pass 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 pass 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 pass." "Yes, and it looks pretty and bright up yonder with the sun shining 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 bump 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 bump, 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. "But you must. It's part of the work you have on hand. You must watch for the time that is best for our start. You can't say anything to that." "No," sighed Marcus, "that's right; but see what a time we have been waiting now. It must be hours since the general came and gave me his command." "Well, not hours, but it's a long time, boy, and it will be longer yet before we shall dare to stir. Why, there are thousands of men below there, and hundreds more coming into sight just along the part we shall have to go, and we must wait till they have all marched off right and left to join the rest before we shall dare to start." "But you are making the worst of it, Serge," cried Marcus, eagerly, as he glanced round from his post of observation at the magnificent sight of men in motion, glittering arms, trampling horse, and all framed in by the sterile rocks, the snow-capped hills, and the dazzling blue sky above. "Perhaps I am, boy, and all the better for us; but it's much the best to look troubles straight in the face and not to come to grief from being too hopeful." And as to time, so it proved, for after about another two hours had elapsed, with the boy bubbling over with impatience, they were able to feel that they might venture downward through the lower part of the amphitheatre, where they would be getting more into the shelter of rock and valley, and beyond the ken of the two trampling multitudes urging their way on after the little army now in full motion higher up the pass, the leading foot showing still clearly and nearly as distinctly as if close at hand, though quite a couple of miles from where the chariot stood. "Ah," cried Serge, at last, "now I think we will start." "Yes, come on," cried Marcus. "But why did you say that?" he added, hastily. "Because the fight's begun, boy." "Where? How?" cried Marcus. "Look yonder towards that patch of grey rock which glitters in the sun. That's where our stout rear-guard is. If you look hard you will be just able to see something moving slowly and something like a dark cloud just behind. That's the enemy's, front just coming into action, driving our men on. Hark! Do you hear how the hum of the enemy's troops' sounds changed?" "Yes, I think so. It comes echoing along the rocks." "Well, that's the barbarians cheering the others on." "Oh," cried Marcus, "the attack begun, when we haven't even stirred to fetch the help! Serge, shall we reach the army to-night?" "Nay, nor to-morrow night either, boy." "And the fight begun!" cried Marcus. "Why, before we can get to my father and Caius Julius our little force will be destroyed." "Bah! Don't you get setting up for a prophet like that. Do you think our men are going to sit down and let themselves be swallowed up without striking a blow? What are you thinking of, boy? Isn't our general marching his men into the narrow gorge again where he will be safely walled in, with only a little front to defend? You let him alone. He will stop and turn as soon as he has found a spot he likes, one that he can easily hold; and there he'll be with his rear open for men to go over the pass and forage for food. He knows what he's about, and we know what we have got to do." "Yes," said Marcus, with a sigh; "we know, but--" "But you needn't watch the going on of the fight, boy, for at this distance it's nearly all guess work and little see, and here as far as I can make out no one can notice us if we begin to move, so now's the time to start." "Ah!" cried Marcus, triumphantly, as he turned to the horse's head on his side. Serge made for the other, and the great dog reared himself up with his paws upon the front of the chariot and his jaws parted, to send forth one of his deep, barking volleys. But at a cry from Marcus he sank down as if abashed, and the only sounds that were heard above the deep, low hum of the trampling army of barbarians, were the soft rattling of the chariot wheels, and the beat of the horses' hoofs upon the stony ground, as they began cautiously to make for the end of the amphitheatre and its labyrinth of rocks. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. FIRST CHECK. It was a glorious change from the terrible inactivity of waiting to energetic action, and the feeling was shared by all. Lupe leaped out of the chariot, the driver involuntarily shook the reins to urge the ponies forward forgetful of the fact that they were held on either side, and the beautiful little animals tried to plunge onward, but feeling the check upon their bits, snorted and began to rear while both Marcus and Serge had to make a struggle to control the desire within their breasts which urged them to break forward into a run. But the knowledge of the need of caution prevailed, and glancing to right and left in search of watching enemies, they had the satisfaction of seeing the chaos of rocks rising above their heads and quite concealing them, though on the other hand their progress became more painful, their way more burdened with stones. But it was glorious work to Marcus. These masses of rock were only difficulties in the way waiting to be mastered. It was quite refreshing to leave the leading of the horses to the driver and add their strength in pulling, pushing, and now and then seizing the spokes to hoist a wheel over some stony bar. Their progress was slow towards the far end of the amphitheatre, but every score of yards was something gained, and all worked eagerly till at last the lower end of the amphitheatre was reached, where the rocks closed in again and a small ravine was before them, whose bottom was the bed of a mountain torrent along which a shallow stream hurried, hardly above the soles of the adventurers' sandals, though the smooth rocks of the bed and sides showed plainly enough that there were times when a furious flood dashed along, laden with smaller stones and gravel, whose effects were to polish the bigger rocks in their way. "Better not talk," growled Serge, as they began to make quicker progress. "I don't suppose anyone is here; they'll all have gone to the front; but you never know, and every bad word is picked up by the rocks and sent flying far away till it drops plump into somebody's ear. Steady's the word, boy. Keep your little chap still. I don't suppose this bit of a streamlet keeps like this. I expect the narrow bed opens out soon, for the hills seem to grow smaller and smaller here, and I am hoping that we shall come upon level ground so that we may get a gallop to stretch the ponies' legs." "Ah, I hope so," cried Marcus, eagerly. "Now you are beginning to talk, Serge, like a man." "And that means, boy, that I was talking a bit ago like some old woman, I suppose. Well, part of a soldier's duty is to take care. Steady you, sir, and don't splash the water up like that," the old soldier continued softly to the pony whose head he held. "It's all very nice for you, and I dare say the water feels nice and pleasant to your hoofs; but keep quiet. You don't have to polish the rust off your armour--I do. I wish to goodness we could get on good dry ground." Like the rest of mountain torrents, the one whose bed they were following zig-zagged in all directions, so that even from their old point of vantage they had been able to see but a very little way along, and were quite content with the knowledge that the rocks rose up some fifteen or twenty feet above their heads, amply sufficient to shelter them from the sight of the enemy who lay away on either side, while now as they journeyed along the rocky bed, with the rattle of the wheels multiplied by the echoes, nothing was visible a hundred yards ahead, and as fast as one angle was turned there lay another a short distance in front. But they were descending towards the plains; the plashing stream as it hurried along taught them that, and at the end of about a quarter of a mile of little interrupted progress they were cheered on by the fact that the rocks on either side grew lower, rapidly ceasing to afford them protection, and before long hardly rising to their shoulders. There was another turn, and then another, and then Marcus cried eagerly: "The hills are seeming to get farther away, Serge, and we must soon be out in the plain. I wonder what's beyond that turning." "Open ground, I should say, my lad," said the old soldier, gravely; "but we must take care. We want the open ground for the horses, but not for ourselves." "I don't understand you," cried Marcus, sharply. "I spoke plainly enough, boy. I meant this: no shelter for us, don't you see, and if the enemy look back some of them may turn and come in pursuit." "Ah, of course," cried Marcus. "Well, if they do, and catch us, you will have to fight, Serge, and drive them back." "That's right, my boy, and I'll do my best: but if I do, and get the worst of it, you never mind but go right on." "Yes," said Marcus, drily, "when you are ready to come too." Serge grunted with satisfaction, and then, possibly from the solemnity of the desolate place along which they travelled, they tramped silently along over the rocky bed, their footsteps and those of the horses being the only sounds as they neared the sharp angle where the stream bed seemed to open out. Marcus said afterwards that Serge should have been more cautious, and Serge retorted that Marcus was captain and ought to have sent on a scout in front. But as it was, the scout who acted, sent on himself, and that scout was Lupe, who, attracted by the openness of the rocks in front, suddenly bounded forward with a cheery bark, sending the water flying, and exciting the ponies into starting forward at a canter. Almost involuntarily the holders of their reins let go and, acting as if on one impulse, caught at the sides of the chariot and sprang in, steadying themselves in their position as the heavy vehicle dashed on along the shallow bed, which was now wonderfully free of stones, while the driver participating in the dog's excitement, uttered a low cry and shook his reins, so that a minute later the chariot swung round the angle into where the ravine suddenly came to an end and a low level valley opened out. Right at the edge of the stream, and not far in front, a cluster of rough camp shelters seemed to spring up before them, and from out of the huts where they had been sheltering from the sun, a body of about two score spear-armed men suddenly appeared. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. A NARROW ESCAPE. To have the horses turned, and gallop back along the narrow river bed for their lives, was Marcus' first thought. His second, braver and better, was to shout to the driver at his elbow to urge the horses on at their greatest speed. The man hardly needed telling, for as the first words of command were buzzing in his ear he was shaking the reins and calling upon the brave little beasts to exert themselves to the utmost. "Forward, my beauties," he yelled, "or the barbarians will have you, and before to-morrow you will be roasted and eaten. Gallop--gallop away!" There was no time for Serge to talk, but he acted, and acted well. Picking up instantly two of the spears which hung at the chariot side in loops, he thrust one into Marcus' hand, retained the other, and stood ready to thrust. Marcus followed his example. Neither thought of using their shields, but stood fierce and staring of aspect, watching the party of men barring their way and shouting to them to stop. It seemed like the next moment that the enemy, who fully expected the strangers in the chariot to surrender, found that to give up was the last thought in their expected prisoners' breasts, and thereupon some dropped their spears, others were in the act of turning to fly, when with a dull, strange sound the chariot horses were upon them. Literally upon them, for the gallant little beasts obeyed their natural instinct, as they galloped and rose to leap the pale of human obstacles and spears in front, but only to come down quite short, trampling and spurning down the enemy, over whom the chariot rolled, bumping, leaping and splashing, and directly after, untouched by the long spears held by the uninjured, the driver turned the horses slightly, and their next bounds were upon dry land, rough and rugged enough, but free from any great impediments. Then away and away as hard as they could go, while the more active of those who were not hurt, recovering themselves a little from the shock and scare, came after the charioteers in chase with levelled spears. "Splendid, Marcus, boy!" cried Serge. "Bah! You need not look back; they'll give up running directly. You did not think they would catch us up?" "No," replied Marcus, breathing hard, "but stop! Stop! Lupe is fighting with them, and they'll spear him if we don't go to his help." "Eh? Go back, boy? To certain death!" cried the old soldier, fiercely. "It couldn't be done if it was to save the finest dog in the world." "Oh, Serge!" cried Marcus, wildly. "The message to Julius and your father, boy. We must not think of either ourselves or the dog at a time like this." "You are right, Serge," said Marcus, bitterly. "But poor old Lupe!" he continued, as he held on to the side of the chariot with his left hand and gazed back. "He'll kill no more wolves when they come down from the mountains over the wintry snow." "Why not?" growled Serge. "Because the enemy are spearing him." "I haven't heard him yelp," cried the old soldier, "but I can hear somebody shouting as if Lupe was spearing him." "Do you think so?" cried Marcus. "Ay, that I do, boy. It wouldn't be an easy job to stick a long-handled spear into old Lupe when he is bounding about attacking legs, and waiting his chance to tackle throats. Like as not we shall find him coming after us, scratched and bleeding perhaps, but not hurt more than I can doctor him and set him right again, same as I've done more than once when he has had a turn with the wolves." "Ah, look, look!" shouted Marcus, joyously. "Why, here he comes!" For all at once Lupe, who had been lost to sight, hidden as he was by those of the enemy who had not taken up the pursuit, and who had resented the dog's attacks by endeavouring to pin him to the earth with their long spears, now dashed into sight, proving that he was uninjured by the bounds and springs he kept on making, barking furiously the while at those who were keeping up their pursuit of the chariot, but whose attention was now diverted so that they turned the points of their spears to repulse the dog's attack. "Yah! Just like him!" cried Serge, angrily. "You ugly old idiot, you! Whether it's men or wolves, you always would have the last bite. Come away, stupid! Come here!" he roared again, quite oblivious of the fact that even if the distance had not prevented the dog from hearing, the noise of the horses' beating hoofs would have effectually drowned Serge's voice. "Ought we not to stop and help him, Serge?" cried Marcus. "No, boy; you know we ought not. We've got to get on with that message, and we must think of nothing else now we are clear. We must not even slacken while the path is so good; so keep on. You wanted a big gallop, so take it and be content, for the horses are going fast enough to satisfy anyone." "Yes," sighed Marcus. "But poor old Lupe!" "He must take care of himself, boy," growled Serge. "Look at him, charging at the enemy as he is, when he is doing no good and running the risks for nothing." "He has stopped the pursuit," said Marcus. "Yes; but why can't he be content now he has done it, and come on, instead of asking them as plainly as a dog can speak, to thrust a spear through his ribs?" "But he knows no better," pleaded Marcus, who was watching all that was going on, and feeling proud of the dog's bravery in charging the enemy furiously from time to time, and escaping every thrust as if by a miracle. "I don't want to lose time, Serge," cried Marcus, raising his voice so that his companion could hear, "but I am going to check the horses for a few moments so that I can shout to Lupe. If he hears my voice calling him he will come." "He's coming without, boy," cried Serge, angrily. "Oh! Poor old fellow! But it's his own fault. I knew he'd get it at last, and he has. That thrust has been too much for him. Look!" Marcus was already looking sharply enough to have seen, at the same moment as his companion, Lupe make a rush at the halting enemy, whose spears flashed in the bright light; and then the dog rushed away again, to stand apparently barking furiously at his enemies, before dashing off after the chariot for about a hundred yards, and then stopping short to roll over and over. "Killed!" cried Marcus, in a voice full of anguish. "No," said Serge, hoarsely; "he's up again and tearing after us." But the next minute the dog had dropped again, and as far as those in the chariot could make out in the increasing distance, was busily engaged in licking his flank, and Marcus said so. "Not sure," cried Serge, "but I'm afraid he has got an ugly dig. Is he going to lie down and die?" "Surely not!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "No, he is up again, and here he comes." "Then perhaps it is not so bad as I thought, boy. Yes, here he comes as hard as he can pelt. He can't be very bad, unless this is his last struggle to get to your side." "And yours, Serge," said Marcus, mournfully. "No, boy; it's you that he wants to reach," said the old soldier, with a grim smile. "He likes me, but you need not talk--he loves you; and if he's very badly hurt he is putting all the strength he has left in him to get here to you." "Oh, Serge," cried Marcus, as the ponies tore on, with the dog in full pursuit, "it can't be so bad as you think!" "Well, boy, I'm beginning to think you're right. He can't be so very bad, or he wouldn't be able to stretch himself out like that and come over the ground faster than the horses are going, and that isn't slow. Look at the brave old fellow; that's just the stride he takes--" "Stride!" cried Marcus, proudly. "He's coming on in bounds." "So he is, boy, and as I was going to say, that's just his way when he wants to overtake a pack of ravaging wolves who have been after our sheep. Well done, dog! Talk about muscles in his legs! I don't call them muscles; he has legs like springs." The chariot horses still tore on at a fast gallop, the sturdy little driver guiding them with admirable skill as they neared obstructions; but fast as they swept over the open ground, with the heavy chariot leaping and bounding behind, their speed was far out-paced by the great dog which stretched out like a greyhound of modern times, and lessened the distance between them more and more, till he was so near that Marcus uttered a cry of horror upon making out as he did that the dog's flank was marked by a great patch of blood. "Yes," said Serge, gravely, "I see, boy, and I could find it in my heart to stop the ponies and take him into the chariot; but there is no need for it. Can't be a serious wound, and he'll be close up to us in another minute." "To reach us exhausted," cried Marcus, bitterly; "and I shall always feel that we might have saved his life." Serge made no reply, but, frowning heavily, he watched the final efforts the gallant animal was making. For gathering himself together for every spring and putting all his strength in his efforts, Lupe bounded on till he was close behind the chariot, and Marcus uttered an encouraging shout as he went down on one knee, while the next minute Lupe made a tremendous spring, from which he landed in the middle of the rapidly-going vehicle, and then couched down, bent his head over as he let himself fall over on his left side, and began licking his wound as calmly as if nothing had happened more than the receiving of a big scratch. "Why, Lupe, Lupe, old dog!" cried Marcus, as he knelt beside the wounded animal hard at work over his natural surgery. Upon hearing the boy's voice the dog ceased his task, looked up in Marcus' face with his big intelligent eyes, beat the floor of the chariot a few times heavily with his tail, and then went on again with his dressing of his wound. "There," cried Serge, after looking back at the distant Gauls, "they're not likely to pursue us, so make him ease the ponies down a little. We must not wear them out at the start. That's better," he continued, as Marcus touched the driver on the shoulder and signed to him to moderate their speed. This done, Serge placed his spear in the loops and Marcus' beside it, before sinking down upon his knees on the other side of the wounded dog. "Now then," he said, "let's see whether it's very bad or not," and he laid his great hand upon the dog's head. Lupe ceased the licking upon the instant, and raised his head to gaze intelligently in the old soldier's eyes. "Good dog!" said the latter, speaking with gruff gentleness. "I won't hurt you more than I can help." As if he comprehended the old soldier's words and placed full confidence in his knowledge and power, Lupe stretched himself out fully upon his left side, extended his head, and, half closing his eyes, lay perfectly still as if dead. "Poor old Lupe!" said Marcus, softly, and he took hold of the dog's right forepaw, with the result that the poor animal winced, but only whined a little and did not try to withdraw his leg, but at the same time began again to beat the floor of the chariot with his tail, keeping up the latter, as Serge carefully examined the injury. "Nasty place!" growled Serge. "Not dangerous?" cried Marcus, anxiously. "Dangerous? No, not it. He had got himself into the right position when the spear thrust was made. It's bad enough, of course--" "Oh, Serge!" cried Marcus. "But there's no likelihood of its being dangerous. The spear caught him on the flank and went right in alongside his ribs, from the thick hair above his shoulder right away to the front of his hind jumper." "Deep in the flesh, Serge?" "No, no; only just under the loose skin." "Has it bled much?" said Marcus, anxiously. "Plenty, my lad, but he won't die of it. Do you hear, Lupe, old boy? Your doctor says he is not going to do anything in the way of tying you up, for this is the sort of wound that has done bleeding and will heal up without any more help than you can give it with your tongue; so go on and do what you like to it, just the same as you began when you were stopped." The dog ceased beating the floor of the chariot as Serge went on talking to him, and as soon as the old soldier had given him a final pat or two he resumed the application of Nature's remedy, paying no heed to those in the chariot, which was now rolling steadily on and leaving the scene of the late encounter farther and farther behind. CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. IN THE TRACK OF AN ARMY. It was not easy to quiet down the half wild steeds. They had been going through a long period of inaction since the fierce charge made on the night of the encounter before crossing the snowy pass, and once their driver had, to use the horsey phrase, given them their heads, and urged them on to their top speed, their hot, wild blood had been bubbling through their veins, making them snort and tear along heedless of rock, rut, and the roughest ground. Marcus had told the driver to check them twice over, but as soon as Lupe was in the chariot and both Marcus and Serge busy seeing to his wound, the speed began to increase, till the chariot was bumping over the open plain faster than ever; and though the charioteer strove his best it was some time before he managed to get his little pair into hand again so that the pace grew moderate and the progress was made at a gentle canter, instead of a wild gallop which threatened wreck over some projecting stone. "They were half mad with excitement," cried Marcus, who was breathing hard. "Yes," grunted Serge. "I thought we were going to be upset over and over again. Feel a bit frightened, boy?" "Frightened?" said Marcus, looking wonderingly at his companion. "No! I liked it. Why, it was glorious to rush over the plain like that." "Wouldn't have been very glorious if one wheel had come bump against a stone, flown all to pieces, and we two had gone flying one way and the chariot the other." "No," said Marcus, laughing; "but that wheel did not, and we are all as right as can be, with the enemy left behind." "Yes, that's all very true, boy," said Serge, who was pressing his helmet a little farther back and holding it there so that he could get a good uninterrupted look all round. "You didn't like it, then?" said Marcus, smiling at his companion's perplexed expression. "Course I didn't," growled Serge. "Lupe did. Just look at him. He has curled himself up to go to sleep. That's a good sign, isn't it, that he is not badly hurt?" "Yes, he's not going to be bad," said Serge, without so much as a glance at the sleeping animal. "Dogs always do curl up when they are hurt;" and he kept on staring anxiously ahead. "What are you looking for, Serge? More enemies?" asked Marcus. "No," replied the old soldier, though it was more like a grunt than a reply. "What are you watching for, then? Not stones? It's getting smoother, and we're going on at a nice steady rate now." "Yes, boy, we're going along at a nice steady rate, but I want to know where to?" "Where to?" cried Marcus, quickly. "Why, to find the main army, and deliver the message." "Yes, boy," growled the old soldier; "but where is the main army?" Marcus stared at his companion for a few moments in complete astonishment, before gazing straight in front between the tossing manes of the cantering ponies, and then looked to right and left. "I don't know," he said, at last. "Somewhere in front, I suppose." "Somewhere in front, you suppose!" grumbled Serge. "But where's that? Nowhere, I say. We shall never come up with them if we go on like this. We may be getting farther away at every stride." "Oh, Serge!" cried the boy, excitedly. "And it's O, Marcus!" growled the old fellow, sourly. "What's to be done Serge?" cried the boy, despairingly. "Why, we may be losing time." "Most likely," said Serge. "And I was thinking that in flying along as we have been we were getting nearer and nearer to the army. Now, then, what is to be done?" Serge was silent for a few moments, and then said slowly: "Well, boy, it seems to me that the best thing we can do is to bear off to the right." "But that may take us wrong," said Marcus, excitedly. "Why not go to the left?" "Humph!" grunted Serge. "Because that may take us wrong, boy. You see, there's a lot of chance in it, and we must use our brains." "Of course. That's what I'm trying to do, Serge." "Don't seem like it, boy. We've got to track the army, haven't we?" "Yes," cried Marcus, "but they've left no traces." "Not that we have found as yet, boy, but they must have left some wounded men, or sick, belonging to the army or the enemy. If they're fighting their way, as is most likely, we may be sure that a good many men have fallen." "Yes, that's reasonable enough, Serge, but we have seen no signs of one." "Not one," said the old soldier. "So as there have been no traces, we must go by guesswork, mustn't we?" "Yes, of course," cried Marcus. "Well, you guessed and I guessed, and I think my guess will be the better one." "I know you do; but I don't, boy." "Why?" "Because there's no reason in yours and there is in mine." "I can't see that," said Marcus, stubbornly. "Show me how your way can be better than mine." "That's soon done, boy," said Serge. "Caius Julius will have a big army with him, won't he?" "Yes, of course; a very large one." "With plenty of mounted soldiers and chariots." "Yes," said Marcus. "Well, would he pick out the roughest part of the country all among the rocks, like you have, or the lower and more even way like mine?" "You are right and I'm wrong, Serge," cried Marcus, frankly. "Let's go your way." The old soldier nodded, the order was given, and the driver turned his horses' heads more to the right; but before they had gone far Marcus caught his companion by the arm. "But suppose, Serge, that the army did not come this way at all? We do not know that it did." "How's that?" asked the old soldier. "Why, it might have gone by some other way." "Which?" growled Serge. "Oh, I don't know," replied the boy. "There must be plenty of ways through the mountains by which an army could go." "No, there mustn't, and there arn't, without you go a long journey round, and that a general is not likely to do. Passes through the mountains are a long way apart; and besides, of course our new captain knew the way that Caius Julius was going, and this is the way he meant to follow if he had come on." "Are you sure?" said the boy, doubtingly. "Certain, my lad, or I wouldn't go this way." Serge had struck for the right, and he proved to be right indeed, for before an hour had passed the adventurers had good proof, the old soldier suddenly giving vent to a grunt of satisfaction. "What is it, Serge?" cried Marcus, eagerly, seeing that the old man was smiling. "I'm right," he said. "What! Can you see anything?" "Yes; look yonder, boy." Marcus gazed in the direction the old man pointed, carefully scanning the distance, but seeing nothing save the undulating stony plain with here and there a stunted tree, and in one part a depression like an old river bed. "Well," he said; at last; "I can see nothing." "Not looking right," said Serge. "I've looked right and left, and down that hollow too," said Marcus. "That's what I say. You haven't looked right up. Look up." "Up?" cried Marcus, who felt puzzled. "I do wish you would speak. There is nothing to see there but those crows circling slowly round and round." "That's right," grunted Serge; "you have seen what I mean." "What, the crows?" Serge grunted, and Marcus stared. "I don't know a bit what you mean," said Marcus, irritably. "Don't, pray don't, waste time." "I'm not wasting time. I say we're on the right track, boy. Look at the crows." "What for?" cried Marcus, angrily. "What for?" growled Serge. "S'pose you and me was at home and were out among the pastures and up the lowest slopes of the mountains where we drive the goats." "Well, what then?" cried Marcus, impatiently. "And suppose we saw crows flying round and round. What would you say then?" "That there was a dead lamb or a kid lying somewhere about, or that the wolves had been down and killed a sheep." "Well?" said Serge, with a dry look on his wrinkled face. Marcus was silent for a few moments, and then, "Oh, Serge," he cried, with a look of horror, "you don't think--" "Yes, I do, boy. Nay, I feel sure. There's been a big fight yonder where those crows are flying about." "Yes: I see," cried Marcus. "But--but which side has won?" "Ah, that we are going to see, my boy, and before long too. Turn a bit more to the right, my man," he continued, laying his hand upon the driver's shoulder, and their direction was a trifle altered, with the result that before long they were passing by the side of a portion of the plain where it was evident that a desperate encounter had taken place from the large number of ghastly relics of the engagement that lay scattered about, spread over the space of quite a mile. The scene was passed in silence, Marcus pressing their driver to urge on the ponies till they were well ahead, after grasping the fact that a stubborn stand must have been made, and that the action had been continued onward to where they stood. "Well," said Serge, "you see all clearly enough now, don't you, boy?" "I'm not quite sure," said Marcus, thoughtfully, "though I think our army must have won the day." "There's no doubt about that, boy, and in such a fight as it has been they could not help losing heavily; but I haven't seen the body and arms of a single Roman soldier, and that is a sure sign that they won the day, and then stopped to carry away their wounded and bury their dead." Marcus shuddered, and they rode on for a time in silence, passing here and there a little mound, and as soon as they had cleared one the old soldier swept the distance with his eyes in search of another. Marcus looked at him questioningly. "Yes, boy," said the old fellow, softly; "an ugly way of tracking our road, but a sure. Those hillocks show where they've laid some of our poor fellows who fell out to lie down and die, and there their comrades found them." "War is very horrible," said Marcus, after a pause. "Well, yes," replied Serge, "I suppose it is; but soldiers think it's very glorious, and as a man's officers say it is, why, I suppose they're right. But there; that's not for us to think about. It's not horrible for our Roman soldiers to stop and bury their slain, and their doing this has made it easy for us to follow the track of the army." "Yes," said Marcus, who was gazing straight before him; "and look there." Serge shaded his eyes, and gazed in the direction pointed out. "Yes," he said, "that's another sign-post to show us our way, and I dare say we shall come upon some more, ready to prove that we are on the right track. The crows seem to have been pretty busy there, boy." "The crows and the ants," said Marcus. "Yes, and maybe the wolves have been down from the mountains to have their turn." "Whoever would think, Serge, that those scattered white bones had once formed a beautiful horse, just such a one as these we have in the chariot?" "Ah, who indeed?" replied the old soldier. "But I don't know that we want to think about it, boy. Let's think about your message and getting on to deliver it. We must make the best of our way while the light lasts, so as to get on as far as we can, as we know now that we're going right. I should like to get down to some hilly or mountainous hit." "What for, Serge?" "To climb up when it's dark." "Because you think it will be safe to sleep there?" "No, boy; I was not thinking of sleeping till we get our message delivered. I was wondering whether we should be lucky enough to get so far that after dark, if we climbed up high enough, we might be able to see our people's watch fires twinkling like stars in the distance." "Oh, Serge, that would be capital!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "Do you think we shall be so fortunate?" "Don't know, boy," growled the old soldier; "but hurry the ponies along while we can see that we are on the right track. There's no reason why we shouldn't be fortunate." "Oh, we must be, Serge," cried Marcus. "It's horrible to think of our general and all his men shut up in that bitter snowy pass, fighting hard for life, and always watching for the help that does not come. Forward!" shouted the boy, and at his word the driver seemed to make the horses fly. CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. MARCUS' PLAN. "Steady, steady!" cried Serge to the driver. "Mind that great block." For as they tore on, with more and more traces of an engagement teaching them that they were going right, the driver seemed to be sending the fiery little pair he drove straight for a low mass of stone, contact with which must have meant wreck. Startled by the old soldier's angry shout, the driver drew one rein sharply, making the ponies swerve right for another far more dangerous obstacle and but for Marcus' readiness in snatching at the other rein, a worse mishap would have occurred. They were saved from this, but the shouts had scared the fiery little steeds, sending them dashing frantically off in quite a fresh direction, while to Marcus' horror, he saw that it was into another danger in the shape of a vast body of the enemy who, as the flying ponies drew near, sprang to their feet from where they were lying behind a ridge. Getting the ponies once more well in hand, the driver, who saw nothing but death for himself if they were taken, wrenched the heads of the pair round once more, just when they seemed about to plunge into the thick ranks of the enemy, along whose front they tore in the intent of sweeping round their line. But the hope was vain, for another body of men came into sight, rising from the earth where they had been lying, to form up at right angles to the first body, and once more the direction of the chariot had to be changed, then altered again and again, for to Marcus' horror foes sprang up in every direction they took, the country seeming alive with the enemy, and all prospect of getting through them and continuing their dash for the Roman army at an end. "What's to be done, Serge?" cried the boy, at last. "Steady the ponies and let them get their wind again." This was done, the gallop being turned into a gentle trot and from that into a walk, while the fugitives watched the slow, steady advance of the barbarians, who in their way, in spite of the name they received, appeared to be nearly as civilised as the Romans themselves. Their intent now seemed to be to make sure of the capture of the chariot and its occupants as they kept on closing up and gradually narrowing the extent of the open plain about which the galloping evolutions had taken place. "It's just as if they knew that we were the bearers of an important message, Serge," said Marcus. "Seems like it, boy, but it is not," was the reply. "We're enemies and invaders on their lands, and they mean to take us at all costs. It looks bad too." "What does?" said Marcus, sharply. "The country being up like this. It looks bad for our army, boy. I'm beginning to think that Julius has had to fight every step of the way he has come, and if our message was not what it is I should say it was our soldierly duty to give up attempting to get through with it." "What!" cried Marcus, with a look of horror, as he turned from watching the approaching enemy spreading out more and more over the open plain. "I said if it wasn't what it is," said Serge, quietly. "But you wouldn't give up, Serge, come what may?" "Do I look the sort of man to give up when I have work to do?" "No, no," cried Marcus, warmly. "It was wrong of me to think it even for a moment. But now, Serge, our way lies away to the left." "No, boy; I've been watching every turn we took, and if we kept on as we are now we should about be in the line our army took." "Then we must make a brave dash now and with lowered spears gallop right through them." "And come down before we were half through their line, boy." "Oh, don't oppose what seems to be the only plan, Serge!" cried the boy, appealingly. "I oppose it because it means being killed or taken prisoners." "Then what can we do?" cried Marcus. "I'll tell you what's best, boy," said the old soldier, thoughtfully. "They're a long way off us, both in front and on the left." "Ah, try and trick them?" cried Marcus. "I know!" "That's right, then, boy," said Serge, with a smile. "How would you do it?" "Why like this," cried Marcus, excitedly--"Pull up!" he cried to the driver. The man obeyed, and the ponies stopped short, looking full of go, but with their sides marked heavily with sweat and foam. "Now," cried Marcus, laying down his spear and leaping out of the chariot, "out with you both. Lie down, Lupe! Quiet, sir!" The driver and Serge sprang from their places and followed Marcus to the heads of their steeds, to begin patting and caressing them in the full sight of the army. "Now," continued Marcus, "you get back into the car," and the driver stepped into his place. "Take hold of the reins and hold them ready, but sit down as if your work was done. You, Serge, lead one pony; I'll lead the other, and we'll walk them slowly towards the enemy away here to the left." "So as to let them think we have given up trying to escape, and are going to surrender?" said Serge, quickly. "Well done, boy! That's just about what I was going to say." "Then," continued Marcus, "when we have slowly walked the ponies as near to the enemy as we dare, resting them all the while, I'll give the word to gallop off, and as the ponies are turned we two spring into the chariot as it passes, and we'll tear away for liberty. No stopping this time, but use our spears." "That's right," said Serge, rubbing his hands softly; "and I think they will be so taken by surprise that we shall get through; and if we don't--" "Well, Serge, finish what you were going to say," said Marcus, sadly. "It will be because it couldn't be done." "But it must be done." Just then a faint burst of cheering came to the adventurers' ears and began to run along the line upon their left, towards which they now began to move at a walk. The next instant it was taken up in front to their right and rear. "They think we've surrendered, Marcus, boy," said Serge, with a chuckle. "Here, do as I do; take off your helmet and pitch it into the chariot. It will look better." Marcus followed his companion's example, and leading the ponies, the adventurers advanced slowly towards the enemy on their left, still about a quarter of a mile away, and Marcus had the satisfaction of seeing that the men had all halted, and those on the left were awaiting their approach, while all ideas of order or discipline were at an end, the lines breaking up and becoming so many loose crowds of armed men, instead of roughly-formed Greek-like phalanxes ready for action. Those were exciting moments, and as the time neared for giving the order for action, Marcus' heart did not fail, for it beat as strongly as ever, but a feeling of doubt began to grow as he glanced along the line of the army he was approaching, and then at the loose mass standing or moving about at right angles, and thought how impossible it would be to dash through them. At last, when the chariot was about fifty yards from the line, and a couple of the enemy who seemed to be leaders stepped forward as if to take their weapons, Marcus, without turning his head, whispered softly: "Ready, Serge?" "Ready!" was the reply. "Then drop your rein when I say _Now_. You, driver, turn their heads at the same moment and gallop away." For answer the charioteer gathered up the reins a little, when, startled at the touch, the ponies threw up their heads. What followed looked so natural upon the movement of the steeds that when Marcus gave the word, and he and Serge stepped back together it seemed to the enemy as if the horses had snatched the reins from their hands, and when the chariot was turned rapidly, to dash off, the actions of Marcus and Serge in catching at the sides and swinging themselves in were looked upon as attempts to help the driver check the endeavours of a restive pair of horses which had taken fright and galloped away at full speed. Consequently a burst of laughter arose, to travel down the line, every man watching the progress of the supposed runaways with delight, while the body of men, now a disorderly crowd, instead of taking the alarm and closing up with presented spears to receive and impale the runaways, caught the contagion of laughter and separated, tumbling over one another in their haste to escape the expected shock, and leaving a wide opening through which the horses tore, urged to their utmost speed by their driver's excited cries. Seeing this, Marcus shouted to Serge, who was ready with the spears and holding out one to Marcus. "No, no," he cried, and seeing no danger he bent over the front of the chariot, making believe to snatch at the reins, and grasping his idea Serge seemed to be seconding his efforts as they tore by, and it was not until the last of the enemy was left behind that any attempt was made to follow, while even then the idea that it was a ruse went home but slowly. "Hurrah!" said Marcus, softly, for he did not dare to shout. "They may think what they like now; we have got the start and ought to be able to drive clear away for the army again, eh, Serge?" "I hope so, boy, but after what I've seen I'm afraid that the passage of our army has roused up the whole country, and that we shall be meeting enemies every step of the way." "Oh, don't say disheartening things after this escape, Serge," cried the boy, excitedly. "That's right, lad; keep them going for a bit longer, and then steady down again to give them breath. Look at the beautiful beasts, Serge. I wish we were mounted upon them, instead of letting them drag this heavy chariot." "I'm looking at the enemy, my boy," cried Serge. "They don't seem to know the truth yet, but scores of them are coming after us at a run. I don't think they'll catch us though, for we are going four feet to their one." "Yes, but we must not distress the horses. Steady! Steady! An easy gallop now. That's better. A quarter of an hour like this, and we can laugh at them, unless old Serge is right and enemies are ready to spring up everywhere in our way." "Ah!" shouted Serge, at that moment, and the ponies took his cry to mean faster, and increased their speed. "No, no," he cried. "Steady, steady! Look, Marcus, boy, we are going right," and the old soldier pointed to another of the grim traces of war in the shape of an overturned chariot, with the skeletons of the horses that had drawn it looking ghastly and strangely suggestive of what might have been their fate, or might happen even yet. Before long the crowded together lines of the enemy began to grow more and more confused; then the idea of distance manifested itself more and more, and those who had pursued melted away into the main body, while the gallant little steeds, whose pace had been slackened down into a steady hand gallop, were eased more and more, to proceed at a gentle trot such as they could easily keep up, till they were checked in the midst of a green slope that ran along by a pine wood, pleasant indications of the mountain land being left behind. Here a clear cool stream ran prattling along, towards which the ponies stretched out their necks and were allowed to drink, their example being followed by those they had drawn, a short distance higher up, and Marcus rose looking eager and refreshed. "We shall do it, Serge," he cried; "but I have seen no signs lately of the army having passed this way. Have you?" Serge gave him a peculiar look. "Yes," he said, roughly; "there has been fighting just yonder, if you look for it; but don't, boy. I want to get on gently again, and to find some sign of a farm, or peasants' hut. We must have food of some kind if we are to do our work. Let's get a little farther on, and then I must forage." "Yes," said Marcus, sadly. "It seems waste of time, but it must be done, I suppose. But why not let the ponies browse a little here? See, they have already begun." "Because it will be of no use for us to look about here." "Of course not," said Marcus, hastily, and he stood looking hurriedly round, to see for the first time that all along the edge of the forest which should have been bordered with fresh green bushes, was broken down and trampled, while not far from where he stood fire had been doing its work, and a large portion was blackened stump and skeleton-like stem. CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. MARCUS' PROMISE. "Seems to me, my lad," said Serge, "that we ought to have been started on 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's rest--" "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 go without sleep, and be always prepared to fight. Now, didn't I teach you that?" "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 only overtake them. Three times over during the past week we have been so close 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 of the enemy, and driven back, just as we thought we could march in, find the 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 how many days it is since we started, for days and nights and time all seem to 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'll be all right as soon as ever there's anything wants doing and we have tumbled by accident near to one of those parties of the enemy, who all seem 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 us outside. 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 his followers must have been utterly destroyed by this time." "Tchah! Not he! You don't know what a Roman general can do. He'll hold out for months, or kill those who are attacking him. Give it up your 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 so far into the enemy's country that it is completely surrounded by the tribes that have gathered together, and are only now waiting for a favourable 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 with the 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 and sword. These barbarians are brave enough and they rush at our men meaning to crush them and sweep them out of the country; and so they keep 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 rolled back again. Now, look here, my boy; you have got your message to deliver." "Yes, yes, I know," cried Marcus, despairingly. "And you are a bit disappointed because it's not done. Everything's bad, you say. It's been all misfortune since we started, and we may as well give up at once." "Well, isn't it all true?" cried Marcus, as he stood unconsciously caressing one of the chariot horses as the pair stood ready to make another dash at a moment's notice, their driver busying himself the while 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 good drilling and bullying for what you said; but somehow I can't, for we have had some very hard work, and all through you have been such a brave boy." "Oh, nonsense, Serge! You are only saying that to comfort me. You will praise me so." "Oh no I won't," said the old soldier, gruffly. "I won't give you a bit more than's good for you, boy. When I say you have done well it means you have done well. You won't get any flattery out of me. All this trouble that we are going through is no more than you must expect. Look what we are doing, and how we stand." Serge was sitting down on a stone, busily employed as he talked polishing and sharpening his sword as it lay across his knees, and he did not trouble himself to look up at his young companion, but kept on lecturing him in a bluff, good-humoured way, smiling to himself with satisfaction all the time. "Now here we are, trying to overtake our army, which had some days the start 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 are no fools. They know Caius Julius has come to conquer them, and they don't want to be conquered. Their idea is to invade Rome and conquer us. Well, my boy, we have come into their country, and every man who can fight has been called upon to come and fight against us, so that like a big crop in a cultivated land, what has been planted has come up all over. And this crop is fighting men with swords and spears. Now we--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, marching through this bristling crop, and you, without taking any account of what a hard job it is to get through, keep on grumbling and saying everything is bad." "And so it is, Serge." "It arn't, boy!" cried the old soldier, firmly, and letting his sword rest, brightly polished and sharp as it was, he now raised his head and looked smilingly in the boy's face. "Haven't you got proof of it that things are not as bad as you say?" "No," cried Marcus, angrily. "I was entrusted with a message to my father and Caius Julius, and I have not done my task." "Not yet, boy, but you are going to at the first chance. Why, look here, my lad, if things were half as bad as you say they are we shouldn't be here. If we have escaped once from being taken or killed we have got through a dozen times. Look at us. Why, we haven't got a scratch, 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 splendid tightener. Hungry! Why, you talk about it as if it was a disease, when it's a thing you can cure yourself the first time you get hold of a big cake and a bowl of goat's milk." "Oh, how you talk!" cried the boy, holding out his arm and trying to span his wrist with his fingers. "Look how thin I am getting." "Thin!" cried Serge. "Why, you look prime. You have got rid of a lot of that nasty fat that was filling out your skin through doing nothing but sit on a stool all day making scratches with a stylus on a plate of wax. What does a soldier want with fat? Your armour's quite heavy enough to carry, without your being loaded up with a lot of fat. That's right enough for women and girls; makes 'em look smooth and nice and pretty, and fills up all the holes and corners; but a soldier wants bone and muscle--good, hard, tough muscle and sinew, and that's what you have got now. Look at me." "Yes, I have looked at you time after time, Serge, and you look hollow-cheeked and haggard and worn." "Why, I feel prime, my boy, ready for anything; ten years younger than when we started. Why, I have got into regular fighting condition again. Did you see how I jumped into the car yesterday when the ponies started without 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 a sword 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 proud to say that I am what a man's officer would call a veteran, and that's the finest title there 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 that chariot in and out among the rocks so close as almost to shave them, and right in between pairs of them where you or I would think there wasn't room 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 and better than ever. Now then! Speak out honest! Did you ever before see such 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 anxious and 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 hand upon the old soldier's shoulder, "I've done, and I will try and never complain 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 was nearly reached, when it required a firm thrust to get it close into its place. "Well, to begin with, forage first. I often think it's a pity a man wasn't made like a horse. Look at those two ponies! How their coats shine in the sunshine! They began eating their breakfast before it was light, for I was watching and wakeful, and I got thinking like this as I heard them busy at it, crop and blow, crop and blow, and after they had eaten all they wanted they had a drink of water, and there they are fit for the day, while we three have got to find out some place or another where we can buy, or frighten them into giving us some bread and milk. We always have been lucky enough so far, and I don't see why we shouldn't be again to-day." "But which way shall we go, Serge? It's of no use to try to follow up the army as we did yesterday, and then have to turn back because the enemy are between us and it." "No, boy; I think the best thing we can do is to leave that till we have done foraging, for we must have something to eat. Then we'll try if we can't creep round these tribes, or get in between them somehow. Perhaps we may have a bit of luck to give us a little help. Anyhow, we are not going to despair." "No, Serge," cried Marcus, firmly; "anything but that." "Hah!" cried Serge. "That's spoken like Cracis' son." CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. ON THE BRINK. Evening was coming on on the following day, when, growing tired but in higher spirits, Marcus and Serge were cautiously following the traces well marked along the side of a forest which gave unmistakable evidence of the passing of a large body of men. There had been rain some hours before, which had left the earth softened and refreshed, ready, too, for yielding to the pressure of horses' hoofs and the clearly-indicated lines formed by chariot wheels. These formed a splendid guide for the adventurers, who added their own traces as they pressed eagerly on. "They are our people, Marcus, boy, and they are not far ahead." "Think so, Serge?" "Sure of it, boy. It has rained since morning, and whoever passed along here has made these marks since the rain." "And it's certainly not a retreat, Serge, for there's no sign of fighting." "Not a bit, my boy. It's our army on the march, and all those signs show that our men were in full fettle, ready for anything, and are pushing forward into the middle of the enemy's country. See yon mountains?" "Mountains!" said Marcus. "You might call them hills." "Well, hills, then; and it strikes me that we shall find these tracks lead straight to one of those green nicely-rounded tops with a pleasant slope all round. Now, there's that one there," continued Serge, pointing to a hill standing by itself; "that's just the sort of place my old officer would have picked out for his next halting camp, lead his men right to the top, mark out their places, and have them all at work before sundown, busy as bees digging out a ditch and throwing up a wall of earth in front for our men to fight behind, in case they were attacked." Serge had hardly ceased speaking as he walked with Marcus on one side of their horses, the driver on the other, to rest the brave little animals as much as possible, when, passing round a clump of trees, following the bend of the track made by the marching army, they came more fully in view of the hills whose tops only they had seen before. Nearest of all was the one to which Serge had drawn attention, and as this opened out more and more in the evening sunshine Marcus uttered an ejaculation and caught at his companion's arm. "Ah!" cried Serge, starting, and he raised his hand to sign to their driver to stop, before catching at one of the ponies' reins. "What is it? Enemy?" "I don't know," cried Marcus, excitedly. "Look!" The old soldier shaded his eyes, and uttered a cry of joy. "Enemy? No?" he cried. "It's just as I said. Look, boy! Our people! Our army! Far off as it is, I know them by the standards, and the way they have gone to work. Look at them! Why they look no bigger than bees from here, and it is as I said. They are forming camp as if they meant to stop for days." "Oh, don't, Serge," cried the boy, huskily. "Don't talk like this if you are not sure. It seems too good to believe, after all that we have gone through." "Not it, boy!" cried Serge, excitedly. "Not a bit too good. Look at all the bad we have had. Everything has another side, and there it is for us." "Are you sure?" "As that I am here, boy. That's the Roman army, or part of it, for I can't be certain that Julius and Cracis are there. But if it's only a part it will do for us, for the general who commands can receive our message and go to yon poor fellows' help. Now, then, forward at once, for though that camp looks so near we have miles to travel before we can march up and be stopped by their sentries ready to challenge us in the good old Latin tongue. Why, boy, you said yesterday that all was bad and everything had failed. What do you say now?" "Forward!" cried Marcus, "and at once!" The ponies had done little work that day, for the advance had been made cautiously on account of the many bands of the enemy's warriors which swarmed throughout the country, and the empty chariot had formed the load; but now without further conversation Marcus sprang in. "If we walk, Serge," he said, "we shall not get there till after dark." "And then have a lot of trouble about going up to the camp," said Serge--"perhaps get a spear in one's ribs; but I wouldn't hurry. Besides, we don't know whether the country's clear between us and them." It was a glorious evening, and for the first time the land with its forest and verdant hills looked beautiful to Marcus by comparison with the rugged barren mountains they had traversed, and whose peaks lowered up stern and forbidding in the distance, as they glanced back from time to time. A sharp look-out was kept, as whenever the trees were not too close the adventurers made cautious observations of the surrounding country, but nothing suggestive of the enemy was seen, the broad track made by the advancing Roman army marked their way, descending gradually from the edge of the forest into one of the valleys beyond which extended the range of verdant hills. Upon the special one that they had marked down they had a clear view of the busy soldiery passing to and fro and looking diminutive in the extreme, before the track led farther into the woody valley and the hills were completely shut out. The distance proved greater than they had expected, but there was their guide wandering here and there up ascents or down into the depths of the valley along which meandered a lovely little river whose moist meadow-like sides were sadly trampled and cut up. Still there was no sign of danger, and the river bank was followed for some distance. "But those hills are on the other side, Serge," said Marcus after a time. "Yes, and before long we shall come upon a shallow place that has been forded. They'll have picked out a spot where the chariots could easily pass, and what would do for them will do nicely for us, boy. So keep on, and hold your eyes open, for where the Roman soldiers are, the enemy's men will be pretty near at hand." Soon after, the track followed a bend of the river, going nearer and nearer, and then all at once struck straight for the bright flowing water, ending at the trampled down bank, and reappearing plainly enough on the farther side. "Not above a foot deep," grunted Serge; and he proved to be right, the water never once coming up to the chariot's axle trees, while the ponies' hoofs just splashed in the barely covered gravel as they passed out on to the springy grass on the farther side, where the track was more plain than ever. "Shall we get there before dark, Serge?" said Marcus, after a time. "Hope so, boy, or we shall find it a bit hard. It's easy enough now, but when the sun's down it will be rather hard to follow the marks with all these trees overhead." "But the path must soon begin to ascend the hill," said Marcus. "I expect they'll have found it easier to walk round it and slope up from the other side. I dare say they've got a good deal of baggage-- impedimenta, as we call it--else I should have thought that they might have struck up the valley slope at once. It will be dark before long; sooner than I expected." "But they had the broad daylight, and of course taking a long sweep it would be much easier for the chariots." "Yes," grunted Serge, "I don't like having it dark. We mustn't strike up at once, must we? It would be nearest." "No," said Marcus, decisively; "we might not strike the track again, and perhaps find that we had chosen the wrong hill, and have to come back." "Yes, that's right," said the old soldier. "Slow but sure;" and the ponies went steadily on, their hoofs rustling through the thick, moist grass where it was not trampled down. "What's the matter, Lupe? Thirsty?" asked Marcus, as the dog raised himself up, looked over the front of the chariot, and then turned to gaze wistfully in his master's eyes. "Want water, old fellow?" The dog gave the speaker an intelligent look and then sprang out of the chariot, and after trotting alongside for a time, bounded silently forward and disappeared. They saw no more of him for the next quarter of an hour, and then came upon him sitting waiting at a spot where the beaten track swept away from the river. "At last!" said Marcus, eagerly, as the ponies' heads were turned; and before they had gone many hundred yards they had the satisfaction of seeing the trees open out and the sky look lighter. Lupe sprang on in front and disappeared, but at the end of a few minutes they came upon him again, standing gazing straight before him, motionless, while as the ponies reached him, they too stopped short. "What does that mean?" whispered the old soldier. "Has he seen anything to scare him?" Serge had hardly spoken when from somewhere in front there came the distant whinnying of a horse. "From the army!" cried Marcus, excitedly. But Serge clapped his hand upon the boy's lips. "Our army is not there," he said, in a hoarse whisper, and the driver gave a quick snatch at the reins, just as one of the ponies stretched out its neck to answer the challenge. "Good!" said Serge, sharply. "Now then, back." "Turn back," said Marcus, "now we are so near?" "Yes, boy, and try to get round to the camp another way." "You think the enemy are near?" whispered Marcus. "And enough to make me, boy, seeing how our people have been surrounded and followed. I thought we were getting on too fast." "But look here," said Marcus, excitedly, "I don't like to turn back without making sure. Let me go on alone and see if you are right." "Well," said Serge, slowly, "it would be best, for then--No, I can't let you do that, boy. We'll stay here for a while till it grows darker, and then, go on together, creeping amongst the bushes to see what we can make out, and then come back to the chariot." "Why not make a brave dash forward?" said Marcus. Serge shook his head. "It would be too rash," he said. "We'll take the horses into yon clump of trees, where they can stand well hidden and it will be easy to find when we come back." "Serge, we shall never find it again in the darkness. Better keep with it," whispered Marcus, excitedly. "Well, maybe you are right, boy. Lead on, then, my man, as silently as you can. This way." Serge stepped in front, and with the darkness closing in fast the ponies were led forward some twenty yards and then out of the clear open space in amongst the dark patch of young growth, and the chariot was hardly hidden from the sight of anyone who might be passing along the track they were following, before Lupe uttered a low warning growl. Marcus bent over the dog and seized him by the muzzle to keep his jaws closed, and the dog crouched down, while directly after there came the heavy tramp of advancing men, following their path exactly, and very dimly-seen from where the adventurers lay _perdu_ a body of men, who, from the time they took in passing, must have numbered two or three thousand, came by, the dull sound of their footsteps dying out suddenly when they were some little distance away. "Gone?" whispered Marcus, as soon as he thought it safe to speak. "No, boy," was whispered back directly. "They've halted a little way farther on." "What does it mean?" said Marcus. "I believe," replied Serge, with his lips close to his young companion's ear, "that there is quite an army of the enemy in front, and that these we heard are going to join them." "Then we ought to go on and give our people warning that they are going to be attacked." "No need, boy," whispered Serge; "they won't catch our men lying about with their eyes shut. Careful watch has been set by now, and scouts will be well advanced. Cracis and Julius will not be caught asleep in the enemy's country. Now, then, as soon as we can feel sure that no more are coming we will try and get up to the camp." "But you will not be able to find it in the darkness." "I think I shall, boy," said the old fellow, confidently. "Pst!" whispered the driver, and Lupe uttered another growl, and then had to suffer the indignity of being muzzled with Marcus' hand, till the fresh tramping sound had approached them and then passed away. "Now, then," said Marcus, "we must risk it now." "I'm ready," said Serge. "But what are you going to do?" "Go back nearly to the river, and then strike for the hill which must be to our right. It will be too dark to see, but we ought to be near it before long, and we are pretty sure to be challenged." "I can't propose anything better," said Serge. "So on at once." The ponies were led out, and in the gloom Lupe was just seen as he stepped out in front of the chariot and started off as if to lead the way, while directly after the low, dull trampling of the ponies and the soft, crushing sound of the chariot wheels rose in the moist evening air, the ponies following the dog and the latter acting as if he perfectly well knew where his master meant to go. For some little time after the rippling of the river had reached their ears the dog struck off to the right up a very gradual slope apparently quite free from trees, keeping on for nearly an hour, before he stopped short, uttering a low, deep growl, while as it rose in the silence the driver checked the ponies, just as a sharp, low whispering of voices came from their front, and then there was silence again, while Marcus and Serge stood together in the chariot, hand clasped in hand. CHAPTER THIRTY. WHAT SERGE THOUGHT. The silence seemed to be awful to the listeners, who were prepared to give the word for the ponies to dash away as soon as the approach they expected commenced. "Our people?" whispered Marcus at last, with his lips close to Serge's ear. "No," was whispered back, and the next moment there was the heavy trampling of feet, but not towards them; and they had proof directly that they were no friends by the strange yell of defiance which suddenly rang out in response to a challenge given in the unmistakable Roman tongue. "Oh!" whispered Marcus, excitedly. "Our people, and so near! We must go forward now." "No, not yet, boy. Hark! Yonder are our people speaking out, and the fight is beginning." "A night attack," whispered Marcus, hoarsely, and with his heart beating heavily. "Yes, boy, and as far as I can make out the hill and camp have been surrounded. Now, then, the darkness may prove to be our friend. What do you say? Shall we try to join our people, or fall back till morning, when we can see what is best for us to do?" "Try and join the army," said Marcus, firmly. "If the hill is surrounded we shall be getting into fresh danger by attempting to fall back." "Yes," said Serge, in a low, deep voice, and no further word was uttered. Lupe gave vent to an impatient growl, and the ponies from time to time stamped uneasily as if eager to advance, while away to right and left rose, all the more horrible for the darkness, the clash of arms and roar of voices, mingled with the loud braying of trumpets, followed by the responsive shouts of the soldiery. There were moments when the tide of battle seemed to flow in the direction of the chariot, but only to be beaten back and sway to and fro. Then, Marcus never afterwards knew how it happened--all he could recall was a fragment or two of their situation--Serge had just almost shouted in his ear, having to raise his voice to make himself heard, that they must at all costs make a dash to get away, and he himself had laid his hand on their driver's shoulder to bid him drive on, when he found that he was too late. For all at once he discovered that the battle was raging close at hand, right in front of the horses' heads, and directly after as they were swung round in the opposite direction for the occupants of the chariot to seek safety, there was a rush of armed men. These came into contact with another body, and so it was that whichever way they turned there was the wild turmoil and fury of the fight going on, while as far as Marcus could make out, one minute the Roman soldiers were driving the barbarians back and carrying all before them, but only to be overwhelmed in turn by some tremendous wave of the enemy in the shape of reinforcements, which raged and swirled round the more disciplined men, carrying them back by sheer weight of numbers in the direction from which they had come. Both Marcus and Serge seemed to bear a charmed life. They made no attempt to use their weapons, and their position in the car had something to do with their escape from injury as they held on to the front, to be borne here and there by their frantic horses, while naturally enough Roman and Gaul, where they were crowded together in contention, yielded and made way for the plunging and rearing steeds, whose hoofs seemed to them for the time being more dangerous than the weapons of a foe. How long all this lasted Marcus never knew. It was enough for his brain to take in the wild horrors of the fierce fight and its many changes till all at once in the dim light shed by the stars the chariot horses had borne him and Serge partly out of the fierce crowds of fighting men. Encounters were taking place all around in single combat, and charges and counter charges made by little parties who were separated from the main body crowded together in the central portions of the battlefield; and snatching at the opportunity, Serge, spear in hand, leaned over to Marcus and, pointing forward to an opening in front, shouted to him to bid their driver make for that gap in the human wall. Marcus planted his spear shaft sharply down upon the floor of the chariot to steady himself, as he leaned down to the driver to utter his commands, and the next minute the fiery little steeds were tearing away at full gallop along the open space, as if in their wild excitement they were eager to escape from the savage scenes and bloodshed going on around. But before a hundred yards had been traversed, the sea of human beings closed in again, completely filling up the opening, and seeming about to entirely stop the fugitives' course. Serge and the driver, both now as excited as the horses, burst forth into a wild cry of command, and this and the sight of the dimly-seen approaching steeds thundering along had their effect. The crowd opened out again just as the driver's efforts were rewarded and he was able to check the furious gallop of his steeds and save them from plunging into the mass of friend and foe alike. The gallop became a trot, the trot a gentle amble, as the chariot now rolled slowly on to where about a score altogether of Romans and Gauls, each party headed by an officer, were just in the act of meeting, pretty evenly balanced, in deadly combat. As with wild shouts they rushed together with sword and spear clashing loudly against helmet, shield, or the protecting body armour they wore, the driver of Marcus' chariot dragged upon his left rein to try and swing round to avoid the contending foes. But in the darkness he did not grasp that which was on his left, and Marcus became aware by a sudden jerk that their further progress was at an end, the chariot being wedged in between a couple of trees, while the horses were plunging wildly to escape from a tangle of bush and branch, and the driver had leaped out to seize them by their heads. "Look, look!" shouted Serge just then. Marcus, who had had to cling to the sides of the chariot to save himself from being thrown out, turned sharply to learn the meaning of his old comrade's cry, and he was just in time to see him throw himself over the chariot's side, evidently to hurry to the help of the Roman officer and his few men, who, completely outnumbered, were being beaten down by two or three times their number of Gauls. Serge said no more in words; his acts spoke for themselves, and grasping that he meant at all costs to go to the help of the Roman officer, Marcus stood for a moment spear in hand and hurled it with all his might at four of the barbarians who were attacking the Roman leader, who was cut off from his companions and faring badly, in spite of a valorous defence, at his enemies' hands. It was pretty nearly momentary, but Marcus took all in at a glance. He saw that their coming and the dash of the chariot had had their effect upon a portion of the Gauls, who turned and fled, while some of their fellows were beating back the few Roman soldiers left unhurt. There were enough still, though, of the Gauls to rush at spear-armed Serge with a yell of triumph, and Marcus, as he saw the sturdy old soldier making furious play with his spear, snatched out his sword to rush to his help; but his course was diverted by that which he saw just beyond, dimly enough, but with sufficient vividness to go straight to his heart. It was the Roman officer staggering back with his helmet falling from his head from a blow he had just received from one Gaul, while, taking advantage of his momentary helplessness, a second rushed at him with his spear, bore him down backwards, and with a yell of triumph planted one foot upon his chest and drove his spear with all his force right at his throat. There was a curious crashing sound as the spear point was turned aside by the finely-tempered gorget the Roman wore, and with a snarl the Gaul raised his weapon again for a second blow. He made the thrust, but it was caught midway by the sword of Marcus, who ended his rush to the Roman's help with a bound; his keen sword met the descending spear shaft, cutting it right through as if it were a twig, while he who wielded the sword came with all his weight full upon the Gaul's chest and sent him rolling over and over upon the ground. Marcus, too, came heavily to earth, but it was upon hands and knees, and, still retaining his sword, he scrambled to his feet again at the same time as the Gaul, who raised his headless spear on high to bring it down upon the head of his assailant. But at that moment Marcus was reinforced by the officer whose life he had saved, and who, regaining his feet, cut down the Gaul and turned to meet his next enemy; for about a dozen men came at him with a rush, but only to be borne back in turn by a rallying party of the Romans, who, coming at their officer's help, sprang at the Gauls, to be swept on in turn by a tremendous rush in which Marcus was trampled down, to lie half insensible for a few minutes before he struggled up, looked round, and than staggered towards the trees in which the chariot was entangled, while the horses were still being held by the driver. Here Marcus supported himself, panting and breathing hard, by the edge of the chariot. He was giddy, and the dim battlefield seemed to be heaving and slowly gliding round before his eyes. There was a curious feeling of sickness troubling him and an intense longing for a draught of water, while his thoughts were all, so to speak, broken and confused and mingled together with a selfish feeling that he must be very badly hurt. By degrees, though, the various objects began to settle down, and the roar of battle and clash of arms gave place slowly to a dull, singing noise in his ears. Then, as if by a sudden jump, his power of thinking lucidly came back, and he looked round for the officer he had tried to help. But he was not there. Some twenty or thirty dead and wounded men were scattered about as they had fallen, some few of whom wore the armour of Roman soldiers, but for the most part they were Gauls, and Marcus looked in vain for the object of his search. Then he turned giddy again, for a mental cloud seemed to close him in, and he snatched at his helmet and dragged it off, when the cool night wind that played upon his heated brow brought with it a sense of relief, and he thought clearly again, not of self but of Serge, and with a cry of horror he ran from where he had stood, to bend over each of the prostrate Roman soldiers in turn, uttering a sigh of relief as he raised himself up, replaced his helmet, and looked round, fully conscious now that the tide of war had swept right away to a distance. The fighting was still going on, and the cries and the clashing of weapons were strangely commingled, but faintly heard. One side had evidently won the battle and was driving its enemies before it. But were was Serge? Marcus turned to where the driver was still soothing the horses, but he could give him no information. He had not seen Serge since he leapt from the chariot and was lost directly in the crowd of fighting men. Marcus stepped back to the spot where his own encounter had taken place, and looked round again for a few moments, but though he could see several prostrate bodies Serge's was not one, and going on and on in the dim starlight he was to some extent able to follow the course of the fighting men by those they had left behind, till he grew confused as to his position and began to retrace his steps. It was not easy, for he had nothing to guide him, and some considerable space of time had elapsed before, utterly worn out and disheartened, he made out a clump of trees, towards which he now directed his steps in the hope that it might be the one in which the chariot had been entangled. To his great delight, as he approached, he heard the voice of the driver talking to the horses, and, hurrying on, he found that he was approaching the chariot from the opposite side to that he had left. The next minute he was tugging his sword from its sheath, for an armed man suddenly rose up from just in front, and as the boy's sword fell to his side, caught him in his arms. "And I thought you were dead--I thought you were dead!" came in a familiar, deep, gruff voice, broken by sobs. "Oh, Marcus, my boy, where have you been?" "Looking for you, Serge." "You have? Well, that's what I have been doing for you." "But where were you?" cried Marcus. "I d'know, boy, only that I have been fighting. I was hard at it when there was a rush, and I was carried along with all the rest, getting a hit now and then at one of the enemy, but not often, for they don't fight fair. They all crowd at you together, and I got the worst of it badly." "Then you are wounded?" cried Marcus. "No, boy; but I lost my spear." "Lost your spear?" cried Marcus, staring. "Yes, boy; this 'ere's only a savage one." "But you are not hurt?" cried Marcus again. "Not hurt?" cried Serge. "Why, boy, I just am. Battered and banged and hit all over. If it hadn't been for the goodness of my armour there wouldn't have been no Serge--nothing left but a few bits. But you, my boy?" "Oh, I'm very sore and bruised and sprained, but nothing worse. But that officer, Serge, that we went to help?" "Ah!" cried Serge. "That officer we went to help! What about him? You didn't let him be killed, boy?" "No; I remember he got up and fought again." "That's right, boy; but where is he now?" "I don't know," cried Marcus. "I was trampled down and lost my senses. Don't you know what became of him?" "No," said Serge, "and I don't care, boy now that I have found you. Here, don't let's stand talking, but help to get out that chariot. I want to get up to the Roman camp." "Can we? Did our people win?" "Win? Why, of course, my lad! Romans never fail." "Quick, then!" cried Marcus. "The chariot, and then up to the camp. There's the message; and let's hope my father's there." CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. THE GENERAL'S TENT. The driver's face lit up as he saw Marcus and Serge come to his help, for the battle was as nothing to him compared to the state of the chariot and horses; and he eagerly set to work over the extraction of the vehicle, which, though splintered and battered, was not much the worse for the accident, and was soon dragged out from where it had been wedged close to the spot where the horses, now quit calmed, had settled down to browse upon the grass, which grew in abundance outside the clump of trees. It was the harness which had fared the worst, but the driver and Serge were both pretty handy, and by the time the day dawned tying and lacing had done their work, so that, excepting appearance, the ropes, straps and thongs were as good as ever, and, tired and anxious, Marcus hurried his companions into the chariot to start for the camp. Guessing at the direction where the slope led, they had just started when they were encountered by a minor officer at the head of a party of men, who looked hard at them and accosted them with: "Have you seen anything of an overturned chariot in a clump of trees?" "Yes," said Marcus, smiling. "Which way?" cried the officer, who looked surprised at Marcus' way of receiving the question. "Straight down that slope," said Marcus. "You can almost see the trees from here." The officer nodded his thanks and was turning away, but Marcus stopped him by saying: "The chariot is not there now." "Not there?" "No; this is it." "Ah!" cried the officer, eagerly. "Then you are the youth and this is the man I want." "What for?" asked Marcus, flushing slightly. "Oh, you'll know soon enough. My chief has sent me to find you. It is for something that took place in the fight last night." "Something that took place in the fight last night?" faltered Marcus, wearily. "But tell me, did the Romans win the battle?" "Oh, yes, of course; but don't stop to talk. I must make haste back. You haven't been murdering and plundering the people, have you?" "No, of course not," cried Marcus, sharply. "So much the better for you," said the officer, shortly. "Come along." He gave orders to some of his men to form up behind the chariot, and with the rest he placed himself in front, and gave the order to march, leading off at once to the left of the route in which the chariot had been moving when it was stopped. "Why, anyone would think that we were prisoners," said Marcus, who felt annoyed, but, satisfied that they were being taken to the camp, he thought of his message and was content. He, however, reached over the front of the chariot and called to the young officer, asking who was in command of the army. The young man looked at him superciliously. "What is it to you?" he said, shortly. "Ask the general himself when you come before him, and then perhaps you will be able to explain why you who are Romans have come to be fighting on the side of the Gaul." "What!" said Marcus. "Do you know that--" "Never mind what I know, my lad," said the officer, shortly, "and don't speak to me again in that free off-hand tone. Please to understand that I am an officer and you a prisoner. Forward, and mind this: any attempt to escape will be followed by a shower of spears." "Thanks," said Marcus, sarcastically; and he turned to Serge. "I shall not tell him why we have come," he said, with his face of a deeper red than before. "That's right, boy," growled Serge. "We don't want him to be civil; all we want is for him to take us to the general. You can tell him why we have come." They were ascending a slope that grew more and more steep, and the morning would have seemed beautiful to Marcus, whose heart beat high at the prospect of being able to deliver his message to the general in command, whoever it might be; but the beauty of the scene and the approaching sunrise were marred by the traces left by the battle, which they were constantly passing: the dead here, wounded men waiting for help there; the trampled and stained earth everywhere. It was a pleasant relief when the top of the hill they were ascending had been reached, though it showed no trace of any camp till the descending slope came into view, and then the adventurers found that they had to cross a valley, beyond which, with the trench and banks showing in rich brown tints gilded by the rays of the rising sun, was the Roman camp, with its few tents and moving columns of men passing up the flanks of the steep hill upon which it stood, evidently returning in regular order from the pursuit of the scattered foes who had resisted the attack upon the invader during the past night. In his eagerness Marcus gave an order to the driver for the chariot to advance down the slope and cross the valley at a trot; but the officer turned upon him angrily, and ordered two of his spear-armed men to take the ponies by the rein, and in this fashion Marcus and his companion were led right to the centre of the camp before one of the tents, up to whose entrance the officer marched, spoke to another who was on guard, and then entered. "Got all you want to say ready?" whispered Serge. "Yes," whispered back Marcus. "Oh, if he would only be quick! This is all wasting time." The young officer was quick enough, for he returned directly, and his manner seemed changed as he stepped up to the chariot. "Follow me, sir," he said. "The generals will see you directly." Marcus' heart beat quicker than ever now, as he sprang from the chariot, wincing slightly from his stiffness, while Serge limped and screwed up his face as he strove in vain to hold himself erect. It was bright with the early sunshine outside the tent, where Marcus now found himself face to face with a stern-looking man in the dress of a general, who sat with his hand resting upon his helmet. But he was not alone, for another officer was lying upon a rough couch, evidently, from his bandaged head, wounded; but he was fully dressed, and his helmet and sword were upon the rolled-up cloak at the side of his averted head. "You are welcome," began the sitting general, warmly. "I have sent for you to give you the thanks of my injured friend, whose life--Why, what is this! My severe young friend Marcus here!" "What!" came from the couch, and its occupant sprang into a sitting position. "Father!" cried Marcus, and Serge, who had doffed his helmet, now in his astonishment let it fall upon the skins which covered the ground with a heavy thud. As Marcus spoke he ran to his father's side and sank down upon one knee to gaze anxiously in his face. "Are you much hurt?" he said, hoarsely. "No, no, not much, my boy," said Cracis; "but in the excitement I did not know you, Marcus. Oh, it seems impossible that you could have been my preserver!" "It was more Serge than I, father," cried Marcus, quickly. "Nay, nay, nay!" growled the old soldier, in his hoarsest tones. "Speak the truth, boy." "That is the truth," cried Marcus, quickly. "I helped, of course, but it was him, master, who made that cut at the Gaul's spear and knocked him over. But we neither of us knew that it was you." "But you, Marcus, my boy," said Cracis, as he gazed wonderingly in his son's face, while Caius Julius watched them both in turn--"you knew me, of course?" "No, father," replied Marcus, whose face was scarlet now with excitement. "I only saw that it was a Roman officer." "And you dashed at once to his help," said Caius Julius, smiling. "Well, it was a brave act then, while now I scarcely know what to call it. Why, Marcus, you must feel very proud of what you have done." "Stop!" cried the boy, quickly, eager to end the words of praise and compliment. "Yes, stop," said Cracis, sternly. "You here, Marcus, in a soldier's armour, and Serge as well! Is this the way my commands are obeyed? Why are you here?" "To bring the message of the general commanding the rear-guard, father. He is shut in on the snowy pass that crosses the mountain, and held there by many times his number of the enemy; and he sent me and Serge to the army here to ask for help." "He sent you, boy?" cried Cracis, quickly. "Yes, father," replied Marcus, "and I was to say that at all cost he would hold out till help was sent." "Help shall be sent at once," said Cracis, firmly; "or better still, Julius," he continued, "our work being so far completed, with yesterday's victory, we will march to his help ourselves." Caius Julius bent his head without saying a word, and then sat back in his seat, attentively watching father and son. "But your message did not answer my question, boy," said Cracis, coldly. "Marcus, my son, how came it that you were with the little army that at my orders was to follow in our wake, crushing down the Gauls who would be sure to gather after we had passed? Speak out, sire: how came you there?" "I could not bear it, father: something seemed to tell me that you would be in danger, and I followed you to Rome, and then on here." "Then you disobeyed my commands, boy," said Cracis, sternly; and Marcus sank upon his other knee, clasped his hands, and held them out before him. Closing his eyes then he threw back his head and was silent while one might have slowly counted ten. Then in a low, distinct tone, full of sorrow and despair, he said slowly: "Yes, father; I disobeyed your command." "And you, Serge, my old and trusted servant, old soldier though you were," continued Cracis, in tones that sounded icy, "as soon as my back was turned you plotted with my son to follow me and forsake your post." "Nay, master," cried Serge, quickly; "there was no plotting. I deserted first." "Hah!" ejaculated Caius Julius again, and his clearly-cut face looked as if it were formed of marble. "Worse and worse," cried Cracis, angrily. "Then you set the example which my weak son followed?" "No, father," cried Marcus, quickly; "I did not know that Serge had gone." "Ah!" said Cracis, quickly. "What excuse have you to make, sir, for deserting your post?" "I didn't, master," cried the old soldier, stoutly. "I didn't desert my post. My post was where I was last night, at my master's side. It was my post that deserted me." "What!" cried Cracis, angrily. "Insolent!" "Nay, master," cried the old soldier; "I'm as humble as young Marcus there, and I'd kneel down just the same as he's a-doing now, but them Gauls knocked me about so in the fight that my legs won't bend. Look here, master; I couldn't help it. I was just like the boy there; I felt somehow that you'd want your old follower's help, and I was obliged to come and join you. You see, we came together, and reached you just in time." "You disobeyed my commands, Serge," said Cracis, speaking as if deaf to his old follower's appealing words. "You too, my son; but the words of both tell of the repentance in your breasts. Prove, then, by your next acts that you are willing to make amends. Silence! Do not speak, but act. The horrors and bloodshed of this campaign are not for my son and servant. You, Serge, do your duty as guardian--you, Marcus, yours, in obedience at once. Back home at once, and I will forgive." "And leave you now, father, wounded, amidst all these perils?" cried Marcus, wildly. "I cannot! I would sooner die!" Cracis started angrily to his feet and tore the bandage from his head, as at that moment two officers advanced as if to receive commands. "You hear me, Marcus?" he cried, sternly. "You hear me, Serge?" "Yes, master," said the old soldier, slowly, and making an effort with his bruised and stiffened limb, he slowly passed his hand across to his left side and drew his short, heavy sword, passed the hilt into his left so that he could clasp the blade with his right, and in that way held it out to Cracis as he went on speaking: "I disobeyed you once, master, and that's enough for a Roman soldier. Take hold. I've kept it as sharp as it was in the old days when I followed you to victory, ready to die for you, master, as I am this day, for I can't live to disobey you again. Take it, I say, master, and let me die at once; better that you should cut me down than that I should myself fall upon my sword, for that has always seemed to me a coward's death." "Stop, Serge!" cried Marcus, passionately, and he laid his hand upon his old comrade's blade. "I am a Roman, if only a boy, and I have the right to appeal." Turning to Caius Julius, he cried: "You refused me once, sir, when I appealed to you, saying that I was but a weak unseasoned boy--not in those words, but that is what you meant." Caius Julius gravely bent his head, and fixed his keen, glittering eyes upon the speaker, who went on: "Since then I have tried hard to prove myself worthy to bear the arms I was taught by an old soldier to use." The general bowed his head slowly once again. "Then help me, sir. It is from no desire to disobey, but I feel that I cannot leave my father now. Forgive me, father. I cannot obey you. Forgive me, too, for this appeal." "Yes," said Caius Julius, rising from his seat and taking a step or two forward. "You both disobeyed, and came here bearers of an important despatch which means more than you, boy, can imagine, in time to save a father's and a master's life. Serge, old comrade," he continued, laying his hand upon the unsheathed sword, "keep your blade for our enemies. If it prove necessary I will kneel for you to my oldest friend and ask his forgiveness for you and my brave young soldier here. Boy," he continued, "you have confessed your fault as your father's son, but since he left you, a simple scholar, you have become a soldier and bravely done your duty in your country's cause. Cracis, my brother general, I grant your son's appeal. Endorse it, man, for a fault so frankly acknowledged is half atoned." "I must have obedience," said Cracis, coldly, "not defiance, at a time like this." "I feel with you, old friend," said Caius Julius, slowly, "but your wounds have fevered you, and it has not been cool, calculating Cracis who has spoken, but the angry, offended general. Brother, you desire that your old servant and your son should return home at once?" "Yes," said Cracis, speaking faintly now. "How?" said Caius Julius, quickly. "Alone, to fight their way through the thousands of half conquered Gauls who will bar their way to the pass where the great captain is waiting for help?" Cracis looked wildly at his brother in arms, and then slowly turned his eyes upon his son--eyes that had flashed but a short time before, but which now softened into a look of loving pride, as he slowly sank back insensible upon his rough pillow, Marcus darting to his side. CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. "MY OWN BRAVE BOY!" The speech Cracis made when he recovered from the fainting fit brought on by emotion when he was weak and prostrate from his wounds, and found Marcus by his side bathing his face, was very short, setting the boy's heart at rest and telling him that the past was entirely forgiven; and the stern Roman judge merged once more in the loving father. For the speech was this: "My own brave boy!" "Ah!" cried Caius Julius, who had just hurried back, after having been away for a very brief time giving the orders which had set the whole camp in motion. "This is bad for you, Cracis, for we start at once straight for the pass, and as fast as we can go. Do you think you will be able to sit a horse?" "I will," said Cracis, firmly. "Yes, I am better now. My wounds are mere scratches, and once I get to-day and to-night over I shall be nearly myself again." "Nearly," said Caius Julius, with a smile. "Well, we shall see. What do 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 me your counsel and make any suggestions about our return?" "Yes, certainly," was the reply. "First, then, tell me if you are fully aware of our position." "Yes," said Julius, "we have scattered the Gauls in every direction, and as soon as we start they will take it for granted that we are so disheartened that we are hurrying back through the country in full retreat, 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 make you over confident, and that our followers would take their cue from their leader and become careless at a time when our position will be more 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 a burden to our men and join the train of litters and our wounded. My son Marcus and his old follower, Serge, will join one of the cohorts, and you will place him where I am sure he would like to be as his father's son." "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 the front." That morning, as the army moved off in perfect order from their camp upon the hill, a message came to where Marcus was marching on one side of his father's horse, Serge limping stiffly along on the other, that the boy was to come forward to join his cohort at once, by the general's orders; and Marcus started upon seeing that the messenger, at the head of ten stern-looking veterans, was the young officer who had fetched him to the general's tent. There was a brief and soldierly leave-taking, and then Marcus was hurrying forward with his guide, who began at once to falter out hurriedly his apologies for his former treatment of the boy. "I didn't know," he said. "I couldn't tell who you were. I thought you were to be a prisoner brought in as a traitorous Roman who had been fighting on the enemy's side." "Don't say a word more," cried Marcus, holding out his hand, and, the best of friends directly, the young officer began to tell him how all that he had done was known in the cohort, and how proud the men were to have Cracis' son appointed to join their ranks. "Ah," said Serge, as soon as he could get an opportunity to speak to Marcus alone, "do you see how I am marching now, my lad?" "Oh, I have been watching you all the way," cried Marcus, "and pitying you." "What!" growled the old soldier. "You seemed so lame and in such pain. I don't know what has become of our chariot, but as that's gone you ought to be in one of the litters carried by the slaves." "Wha-a-at!" growled the old soldier, making the interjection as long in its utterance as half a dozen six-syllabled words. "Well, I do call this hard! The knocking about you have had must have got into your head, 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 had brought the orders, I was so stiff that I could hardly put one leg before the other; but the very news of you being appointed to take your place 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 a sick woman? Bah! Why, before we get far on the march we shall have the enemy 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 believe till it's knocked into them that we are not making a retreat. Me in a litter!" he growled. "Just you wait a bit, and I shall be showing that I 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 master had been appointed a junior officer, and been received by the men with cheers, a desperate attack was made upon this, the advance guard, by a perfect crowd of fierce Gallic warriors made up of the scattered remnants of the beaten army, who came down upon the marching cohort like the sea upon some massive rock. So fierce was the onslaught that though the Roman ranks remained comparatively unbroken, they were pressed back by the sheer weight of their enemies, but only to recoil, and as they advanced to recover their lost ground, it was over the bodies of some of their wounded men, and to Marcus' horror he found himself once more called upon to dash forward to another's help. This time, however, it was 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 was one of those who had been unable to keep his place in the rank when the Romans were driven back, and that now he was defending himself and striving to hold his own against the attack of three of the Gauls. Tearing off his helmet, as if it were an incumbrance, and making his short sword flash through the air, Marcus rushed to his old companion's help, but too late to save him being hurled heavily to the ground, while, ready as he was to contend against ordinary weapons, this barbaric method of attack confused and puzzled him. One of his half-nude enemies made as if to flinch from a coming blow, and then sprang up, hurling something through the air, and in an instant the boy found himself entangled in the long cord of strips of hide, which was dragged tight above his arms and crippled the blow he would have struck, while as he was jerked round the Gaul's companions flung themselves upon his back, and for the moment he was prisoner in his turn. The struggle that followed was brief, for the blade Marcus wielded was that in which old Serge had taken pride, feeling as he did that his master'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 the well-caparisoned young Roman, and not a slay, so that Marcus, in spite of the way in which his arms were dragged to his side, was able to turn the point of his sword upward, and give one thrust between the cord and his breast, when the rope parted like tinder upon the razor-like edge, and his enemies started back from the sweep of the terrible blade he whirled above his head. Staggered for the moment, they were preparing for a fresh attack when Serge, 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 a rank of the Roman soldiers was advancing, and as they closed up, Marcus and Serge were free to take their places in the line once more as if nothing had happened, and the advance guard steadily pressed on. There was a fortnight's hard fighting carried on day by day, with a succession of halts for the formation of camps in the strongest positions that offered themselves as havens of refuge against a teeming enemy which refused to be crushed and constantly swarmed round the retiring Roman army, perfectly reckless of life, and apparently content with the smallest advantages that they could gain. Rolled back one day by a Roman charge, the Gauls gathered together again during the night to attack and harass the retiring troops; but all was in vain, for step by step Caius Julius carried all before him, and the help that Marcus had been sent to seek gradually drew nearer to the beleaguered force till one morning, as the army came into position to continue its march, Marcus was passing along the ranks and halted by Serge, who eagerly drew his attention to the glittering snow upon the mountains a mile or two in front. "See that?" he cried. "Why, before long we shall reach that stream and be marching into that great hollow among the mountains where we stopped that day with the chariot to see our general lead his men up into the pass. Why, to-night we ought to be camping there amongst the snows; and a nice change too, my boy, for its been rather hot work for about a fortnight now." "Yes," said Marcus, quietly; "but according to the tidings the scouts have been bringing in all through the night, the Gauls are swarming in that great amphitheatre between here and the pass, and all promises for the biggest fight that the army has yet had." Serge took off his helmet and rubbed one ear thoughtfully, as he gazed straight before him in the direction of the pass. "Well," he said, slowly, "I shouldn't wonder if such a fight did come off, and if it does it will be hard and fierce. I shouldn't wonder if it is what your father means. That used to be the way we went on: he planned where the fight was to be, and Caius Julius went on and won. I remember every bit of that amphitheatre place, and what a death trap it seemed. You know the captain would not stay in it when the Gauls had surrounded him, but left the way clear for us to go for the help we've brought, and led his force right up into the pass so as to make the enemy follow him. Now our generals are scheming to get the Gauls, who have kept on attacking us front, rear and flanks, right into that amphitheatre 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 what they think we mean to do--so as to join forces with him who is holding it still." "But is he holding it still?" said Marcus. "The scouts that were sent out last night as soon as it was dark have not yet returned." "Yes they have," said Serge, quickly. "I saw them come back an hour ago, and make for the general's headquarters." Serge was right, for one of his comrades had heard the result of their investigation, the news they brought back being that their leader was still holding the pass, and, what was more, he was well supplied with provisions, for the country people on the farther slope, realising the strength of the Roman general's position, had judged it best to accept the conquest, and, making friends, had kept up an ample supply of food, so that the little force which kept the gateway into Gaul and commanded the approaches on either side, had had no greater difficulties to contend 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, my lad. That's it: Cracis has calculated upon its being like this, and this place will be instead of a retreat a masterly scheme which will end this war." "How?" said Marcus. "How? Why, in the way your father has arranged. You'll see that when we advance the general will throw out two wings to secure the little hollows by which the Gauls have been advancing, till he has got round them, 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 have seen 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 has been 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 and drive 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, as I said before, he has been completely out-manoeuvred by your father." "Well, you said that before, Serge," said Marcus, impatiently; "but I don't see matters as you do, though I have tried very hard." "Then you ought to have seen," cried the old soldier, gruffly. "The captain 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 without doing anything when we advance and close the enemy in more and more?" "Ah! I see now!" cried Marcus, eagerly. "He will come down from the pass with his men, and attack the Gauls in the rear." "To be sure he will, and do the greater part of the fighting and driving the enemy on to our troops. Why, in a very short time, as I see it, I mean after the attack, half their men will be prisoners, for no matter how clever the Gaul general may be he is bound to give up or have his forces cut down to a man." "Yes," said Marcus, eagerly. "Just you take warning, then, boy, by this day's work: never you, when you grow up to be a general with an army at your command, never you let yourself be driven into a hole like this where you may be caught between two 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 quite exact and to the satisfaction of our generals. I expect this battle will be fought out before night." CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. AFTER THE BATTLE. Serge was right. The weather was glorious; the hot sun blazed down; but the heat was tempered by the gentle breeze which wafted its coolness from the snowy pass. To one ignorant of the horrors that lurked behind, it was one grand display of armed men, with their armour glittering and standards on high, marching in different bodies as if to take part in some glorious pageant to be held in the mighty, rugged amphitheatre whose walls were mountains and whose background was formed by the piled-up masses of ice and snow, here silvery, there dazzling golden in the blaze of the afternoon sun, and farther back beauteous with the various azure tints, from the faintest tinge to the deepest purple, in the rifts and chasms far on high. There was a grim meaning behind it all as the troops under the command of Caius Julius swept round by slow degrees to seize upon and hold the different little valleys leading into the amphitheatre, and all in a slow orderly fashion suggesting merely change of position, and as if collision with the Gallic force was the last thing likely to occur. For as the Roman soldiery gradually advanced as if the distant pass were the object they held in view, ready for pressing through it in one long extended column, the barbarian troops gradually fell back, to form themselves into one vast dam whose object it was to check the Roman human river and roll it back broken and dismembered, ready for final destruction in the plains they had invaded. There were moments when, as he stood beside the line of stalwart men with whom he had been placed, Marcus' thoughts were wholly upon the scene of which, from high up on a slope of one of the valleys, he had a most comprehensive view; and he too was ready to forget what was behind, as for an hour he watched and waited, until as if by magic the marching and changing of position of the thousands before his eyes had ceased. It was evening then, with the sun sinking behind the hills in the rear of the now concentrated Roman army, while the Gauls who filled the amphitheatre and faced them were lit up, and their armour and weapons blazed as if turned to fire by the orange glow which rose and filled the mountain hollows and the pass beyond with its ever-deepening reddening haze. Naturally enough Marcus took his stand close by Serge, who seemed to have quite recovered from the injuries which he had received, and stood up bronzed and sturdy, with his face lit up with the expectancy of one whose training taught him to foresee a triumph for the Roman arms. "Are we all ready, Serge?" said Marcus, in a low voice. "Yes, boy. Isn't it grand! Take the lesson to heart. You will understand it better later on, for it's too much for one so young as you to take in all at once. Look how our generals have placed their men, with never a bit of confusion from beginning to end, and all ready when the trumpets sound to advance and strike, while these Gauls, crowded up together into this great trap, don't even know as yet that their numbers will be worse than nothing, only a big crowd in which every man will be in his neighbour's way." "But suppose they stand fast," said Marcus, "instead of giving way?" "We shall march over them, boy, straight for the pass. Nothing can stop our advance. One of our lines may go down, but another will step into its place, and if that is broken there is another close behind, and another and another, each of which must weaken the resistance and pave the way for our army to pass on." "Don't say pave the way, Serge. It sounds too horrible, and makes me think of what it means." "Don't think, then, boy." "I must," replied Marcus; "but it will be dreadful for the first cohort which leads." "Grand, you mean, boy," cried the veteran, "and you ought to be proud, for it is ours." "I don't see any signs of the captain's coming to meet us." "In hiding perhaps," said Serge. "He's certain to be there. He will not let his men show themselves until we advance, and he has not stirred as yet." "How do you know?" "Look at the barbarians," cried the old soldier, pointing to the distant crowd far up the slope. "They would be showing it by now if he were coming on." "It is getting late," said Marcus, after a pause. "Yes," replied Serge, "and if I were in command I should be here to begin leading on my men. Think of that now," he whispered, sharply. "Here he is!" "Who? My father?" "No, boy. He'd be in the rear upon one of these hills, directing the advance of the legions, where he can look over the whole amphitheatre." No more was said, for a thrill seemed to be running through the long serried line of veterans extending to right and left, as, followed by a group of his principal officers, Caius Julius rode close up to his leading cohort, gave the order to advance, and turned his horse to ride in front and lead. Then as the heavy tramp of the armed men rang out and the advance with shield joined to shield moved on over the stony ground, there was a roar like distant thunder which rose and rolled and reverberated from the rocks around, as the Gauls in one vast mass flashed forward to meet them and sweep the van of the Roman army away. The deep thunderous sound as of a storm was awe-inspiring enough to daunt the stoutest, but it had no effect upon the Roman warriors who steadily advanced close to the heels of their leaders' horses; and once more with his heart beating fast the while, it all seemed to Marcus like some grand pageant in which he was honoured by being allowed to play his little part. Fate had placed his rank almost within touch of their general, who rode calmly, probably anticipating that the wild charge of Gauls as they came tearing on would never be carried home, and that the enemy would melt away to right and left before the steady pressure of that rank upon rank of unbroken shields bristling with sword and spear. But the general was deceived. The wild barbarian charge of undisciplined Gallic warriors was carried home. Borne on by their own impetuosity, and pressed forward by the crowd behind, the enemy came on with a wild rush, and then came the clashing arms, the roar of the fierce multitude. Then as the steady stride of the line of Roman veterans was checked in the awful shock, Marcus was conscious of the struggles of a charger which reared up, fighting fiercely with its hoofs against the enemy which hemmed him in, and then of its sidewise fall, to lie upon its flank, plunging feebly in its efforts to rise, before lying prone and motionless with half a dozen spear thrusts in its breast and throat. Marcus was conscious of striking out fiercely with his keen, short sword, and of the pressure on both sides amidst the roar and rush of the fight in which he was taking part. But all seemed wild and confused, as he stood with one foot planted on the fallen horse's side, the other on the rock, holding his shield the while in front of the fallen rider, who was striving vainly to free himself from the weight of the charger which pinned him down. It seemed to be some long space of time, all horror and death, during which men fought and heaved and swayed, sometimes beaten back a few feet, then recovering themselves, regaining the lost ground, and pressing on, till in regular rhythmic pulsation rank after rank of warriors tramped on, opening out as they reached the group of dead and wounded men whose core was the spear-slain horse. But in fact it was but a matter of minutes before the pressure ceased as the ranks passed on and a big, heavy-looking man came up, and by signs--for no voice could make itself heard--seemed to be urging other men to seize and drag the dead horse off the prisoned officer, who was saving himself from falling prone, possibly to be trampled to death by the advancing ranks, by clasping his hands round Marcus' waist as he still stood over him with ready sword and shield. The start having been made, there were willing hands in plenty to drag the horse away, and its rider stood up, holding on by Marcus' arms, as once more a wave of the enemy seemed to rise up out of the tumultuous sea of carnage, sweeping between the two Romans and their friends, the former being left to face the bristling spears of the Gauls, and death appearing inevitable for Marcus and the officer he had saved. The boy was borne back by half a score of the hirsute semi-savages, leaving his companion standing erect with nothing to defend himself but his clenched hand, when, half maddened by the scene, Marcus uttered a wild cry, recovered himself, and dashed forward to the rescue, staggering the foe with astonishment by the fierceness of his onslaught, as he literally hurled himself between the officer and his fate, the upraised shield turning aside the spears gliding with deadly aim toward his throat. At that moment the deadly wave of destruction was checked in its onward sweep by the rebound of a line of Roman veterans, the Gauls fell back, and the officer drew himself up panting and waving one arm on high, when a couple of officers rode up, one of whom dismounted and held his stirrup, when, without a word, the companion of Marcus in peril sprang upon the charger's back and dashed forward, the late rider holding on by the mane. "Well done, boy! Grand!" was shouted in Marcus' ear, as he stood there wondering whether it was all real, that noise of men tramping by, the clash of arms, and the roar as of muttering thunder ahead, and not some horrible dream in which, faint and sick, everything was whirling slowly round. "That you, Serge?" someone said, for they did not seem to be his words. "Yes, boy; grand, but we ought to be along with our cohort, and it's far ahead, so we must join the ranks of one of these that are going by." "Are we losing?" said Marcus, faintly, and still it was as if someone else was speaking. "Losing!" cried the old soldier. "Winning, you mean. But think of you having such luck as that!" "Luck?--Luck?" said the same voice, slowly. "Yes, I never saw anything like you. Sprang forward, you did, just as the general's horse reared up, and saved him from an ugly death by the thrust you gave that Gaul." "Who did?" said the same voice, feebly heard in the horrible dream. "Who did? Why, you did, and covered him afterwards with your shield all the while he was pinned down by his dead charger. Why, Marcus, boy, if you were a man you'd be made a big officer at once. But what's the matter with you, boy?" "I--I don't know, Serge." "But I do!" roared the old soldier, with a roar like a lion. "Why, who did this?" "That--that Gaul," said the boy, faintly, as he felt himself seized and pressed back, to lie with his head pillowed upon the dead charger's neck, while he was conscious of his old comrade's hands being busily unbuckling his armour and then bandaging him tightly to stop the flowing blood. "Feel better now, boy?" cried Serge, at last, as he bent down close to the wounded lad's face. "Yes; not so sick," was the reply. "But tell me, Serge, about the fight," and as Marcus uttered these words he was conscious that they were his own. "Tell you about the fight? Ah, that's a sign you are better. A nasty cut, my boy, between the shoulder and the neck. But it's nothing to hurt." "But it does, Serge." "Pooh! Only smarts. It hasn't killed you. Soldiers expect wounds, and you've got yours." "But the fight--the fight?" "Oh, just what I told you it would be, boy. The captain has brought his men down the pass, and the Gauls, taken between the two armies, are breaking up and streaming away to right and left. There'll be no Gallic army by the time the litters come to carry the wounded off the field, and the first shall be for the lad who saved the life of Caius Julius." "Oh, Serge, it is impossible that I could have done that," said Marcus, feebly. "That's what I should have said, boy, if I had not seen." "But, Serge?" "I look out sharp, boy, so don't doubt what I say. Your wound made you forget. I wonder whether the general will." "But you don't tell me about the fight, Serge." "What, do you want to know more?" "Of course." "Well, the Gauls are taken in a trap, and after all is over I hope that one of those snowstorms will come down from the pass to cover all that the amphitheatre will have to show. It's terrible work, my boy." "Horrible! Horrible indeed!" sighed Marcus, as he looked sadly round at the traces of the fight that had taken place about the fallen horse. "Yes, my lad, I can't help thinking just the same," said the old soldier, as he stooped to pick up the spear he had laid down while he bound his young companion's wound, and leaned upon the staff as he gazed straight away in the direction where the fight seemed to be raging still. And the time passed on, till the tumult died away, and the old soldier stood watching still and waiting anxiously, while Marcus lay silent in the troubled sleep that came to dull his pain. At last the boy stirred, and Serge bent over him. "Awake, boy?" he said. "Yes, Serge. Have been asleep?" "Yes." Marcus gazed around him, and shuddered at the traces of the fight. "Horrible!" he sighed. "Yes, boy," said the old warrior, gravely; "I suppose it is, in spite of all the glory and triumph and the like; but," he continued, after a pause, as he raised his spear, whose head glimmered in the pale light as he pointed in the direction of the shining crest of one of the mountains beyond, while far away lay Rome, "our country must rule the world." Marcus sighed. "And give up the bravest and the best of her sons to fight her cause!" sighed the old soldier to himself. "But I hope the general won't forget what even a boy can do." Caius Julius did not, for a little later a group of mounted men appeared, and the faint cheers of the wounded soldiery greeted them as they passed. "It was somewhere near here, Cracis," said one of the party, and then pointing with his sword, "Ah, it must have been there. Yonder is my poor horse. Yes, there lies your brave son not dead, for he has raised and is waving his hand to you. Another great triumph for Rome, Cracis, but I'd give up all the glory I have won to possess a son like yours." 
33868	----	produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print project.) THE CASQUE'S LARK THE FULL SERIES OF The Mysteries of the People " OR " History of a Proletarian Family Across the Ages By EUGENE SUE _Consisting of the Following Works:_ THE GOLD SICKLE; or, _Hena the Virgin of the Isle of Sen._ THE BRASS BELL; or, _The Chariot of Death._ THE IRON COLLAR; or, _Faustina and Syomara._ THE SILVER CROSS; or, _The Carpenter of Nazareth._ THE CASQUE'S LARK; or, _Victoria, the Mother of the Camps._ THE PONIARD'S HILT; or, _Karadeucq and Ronan._ THE BRANDING NEEDLE; or, _The Monastery of Charolles._ THE ABBATIAL CROSIER; or, _Bonaik and Septimine._ THE CARLOVINGIAN COINS; or, _The Daughters of Charlemagne._ THE IRON ARROW-HEAD; or, _The Buckler Maiden._ THE INFANT'S SKULL; or, _The End of the World._ THE PILGRIM'S SHELL; or, _Fergan the Quarryman._ THE IRON PINCERS; or, _Mylio and Karvel._ THE IRON TREVET; or, _Jocelyn the Champion._ THE EXECUTIONER'S KNIFE; or, _Joan of Arc._ THE POCKET BIBLE; or, _Christian the Printer._ THE BLACKSMITH'S HAMMER; _or, The Peasant Code._ THE SWORD OF HONOR; or, _The Foundation of the French Republic._ THE GALLEY SLAVE'S RING; or, _The Family Lebrenn._ Published Uniform With This Volume By THE NEW YORK LABOR NEWS CO. 28 CITY HALL PLACE NEW YORK CITY THE CASQUE'S LARK :: OR :: VICTORIA, THE MOTHER OF THE CAMPS A Tale of the Frankish Invasion of Gaul By EUGENE SUE TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL FRENCH By DANIEL DE LEON NEW YORK LABOR NEWS COMPANY 1909 Copyright, 1909, by the NEW YORK LABOR NEWS CO. INDEX TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE v INTRODUCTION 1 PART I--FOREIGN FOES. I. SCHANVOCH AND SAMPSO 21 II. ON THE RHINE 26 III. THE HORDES OF THE FRANKS 46 IV. THE PRIESTESS ELWIG 55 V. NEROWEG THE TERRIBLE EAGLE 69 VI. THE FLIGHT 83 VII. SHADOWS ACROSS THE PATH 94 VIII. CAPTAIN MARION 99 IX. VICTORIA THE GREAT 107 X. TETRIK 114 XI. VICTORIN 127 XII. TO BATTLE 143 XIII. THE BATTLE OF THE RHINE 156 XIV. THE HOMEWARD RIDE 173 PART II--DOMESTIC TRAITORS. I. GATHERING SHADOWS 185 II. THE CATASTROPHE 195 III. THE MORTUARY CHAMBER 208 IV. FUNERAL PYRES 229 V. ASSASSINATION OF MARION 233 VI. THE TRAITOR UNMASKED 247 VII. THE VISION OF VICTORIA 268 VIII. CRIME TRIUMPHANT 274 IX. KIDDA, THE BOHEMIAN GIRL 280 EPILOGUE 288 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE The first four stories of Eugene Sue's series of historic novels--_The Mysteries of the People; or, History of a Proletarian Family Across the Ages_--are properly introductory to the wondrous drama in which, as indicated in the preface to the first story of the series, "one family, the descendants of a Gallic chief named Joel, typifies the oppressed; one family, the descendants of a Frankish chief named Neroweg, typifies the oppressor; and across and adown the ages, the successive struggles between oppressors and oppressed--the history of civilization--is thus represented in a majestic allegory." That wondrous drama opens with this, the fifth of the stories--_The Casque's Lark; or, Victoria, the Mother of the Camps_. Here, for the first time, does a descendant of Joel, the Breton chief, encounter a Neroweg, the representative of the conquering race. Here they cross swords for the first time, their descendants meeting again and again in the course of the subsequent narratives, almost always in deadly encounter, each typical of the advancing stage of civilization in which the succeeding encounters occur. In point of time, the scene of this story is about the third century of the Christian era. The great historic epoch which it describes is that in which, the star of the Roman Empire being in the decline and the Empire's hold upon Gaul having been greatly relaxed, the flood of the barbarian migration of nations flowed westward from the primeval forests and frozen fields of Germania, attempting to cross the Rhine and enter Gaul. Foremost among these hordes were the savage and warlike Franks, led by a number of independent chiefs. The present story describes the two forces--Franks and Gauls, the latter supported by the Romans--facing each other, frequently crossing swords in bloody encounters and holding each other in check. Out of this material, into which the thin thread of the initial introduction of Christianity in Gaul is woven in the woof, Sue constructed the present superb narrative--a fit overture for the following and successive fourteen acts. DANIEL DE LEON Milford, Conn. August, 1909. INTRODUCTION. I, Schanvoch, a descendant of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak; I, Schanvoch, now a freeman, thanks to the valor of my father Ralf and the bold Gallic insurrections that continued unabated from century to century; I, Schanvoch, write the following narrative two hundred and sixty-four years after my ancestress Genevieve, the wife of Fergan, witnessed in Judea the death of the poor carpenter Jesus of Nazareth. I write the following account thirty-four years after Gomer, the son of Judicaël and grandson of Fergan, who was a slave like his father and grandfather, wrote to his son Mederik that he had nothing to add to the family annals but the monotonous account of his life as a slave. Neither did my ancestor Mederik contribute aught to our family history, and his son Justin contented himself with having a stranger's hand enter these short lines: "My father Mederik died a slave, fighting as a Son of the Mistletoe for the freedom of Gaul; he told me that he was driven to revolt against the foreign oppression by the narrative of the bravery of our free ancestors and by the description of the sufferance of our enslaved fathers. I, his son Justin, a colonist, and no longer a slave of the fisc, have caused this fact to be entered upon our family parchments, which I shall faithfully transmit to my son Aurel, together with their accompanying emblems, the gold sickle, the little brass bell, the fragment of the iron collar and the little silver cross, all of which I have carefully preserved." Aurel, Justin's son and a colonist like his father, was not any more literate than the latter, and left no record whatever. After him, again a stranger's hand inserted these lines in our family annals: "Ralf, the son of Aurel the colonist, fought for the freedom of his country. Ralf having become absolutely free, thanks to the Gallic arms and the holy war preached by our venerable druids, found himself obliged to resort to a friend's help in order to enter the death of his father Aurel upon our family parchments. Happier than myself, my son Schanvoch will not be forced to avail himself of a stranger in order to enter in our family's archives the death of myself, the first male descendant of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, who again regained complete freedom. As several of my ancestors have done before me, I here declare that it was the history of our ancestors' valor and martyrdom that induced me to take up arms against the Romans, our masters and secular oppressors." These family scrolls, together with their accompanying relics, I shall leave to you, my dear little Alguen, the son of my beloved wife Ellen, who gave you birth this day four years ago. I choose this day, the anniversary of your birth, as a day of happy augury, in order to start, for your benefit and the benefit of our descendants, the narrative of my life and my battles, my joys and my sorrows, obedient to the last wishes of our ancestor Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak. You will grieve, my son, when you learn from these archives that, from the death of Joel down to that of my great-grandfather Justin, seven generations, aye, seven whole generations, were subjected to intolerable slavery. But your heart will be cheered when you learn that my great-grandfather had, from a slave, become a colonist or serf attached to the glebe of Gaul--still a servile condition but greatly above that of slavery. My own father, having regained his full freedom, thanks to the formidable insurrections of the Sons of the Mistletoe that from century to century were conjured up at the voice of the druids, the tireless and heroic defenders of the freedom of oppressed Gaul, has bequeathed to me freedom, that most precious of all wealth. I shall, in turn, transmit it to you. By dint of constantly struggling for it, and also of stubborn resistance, we Gauls have succeeded in successively reconquering almost our full former freedom. A last and frail bond still holds us to Rome, now our ally, after having formerly been our pitiless master. When that last and frail bond will be snapped, we shall have regained our absolute independence, and we shall resume our former place at the head of the great nations of the world. Before acquainting you with the details of my life and time, my son, I must fill certain voids that are left in the history of our family through the omissions of those of our ancestors, who, either through illiteracy or the hardness of the times, were prevented from joining their respective accounts to our archives. Their lives must have been the life of all the other Gauls, who, the fetters of slavery notwithstanding, have, step by step and from century to century, conquered through revolt and battle the deliverance of our country. You will find in the last lines written by our ancestor Fergan, the husband of Genevieve, that despite the vows taken by the Sons of the Mistletoe and despite innumerable uprisings, one of the most formidable of which was chieftained by Sacrovir, the worthy emulator of the Chief of the Hundred Valleys, the Roman yoke that Caesar imposed upon Gaul remained unshaken. In vain did Jesus, the carpenter of Nazareth, prophesy that the chains of the slave would be broken. The slaves still dragged their blood-stained chains. Nevertheless, our old race, weakened, mutilated, unnerved or corrupted though it was by slavery, never once was submissive, and allowed only short intervals to pass without endeavoring to shake off the yoke. The secret associations of the Sons of the Mistletoe covered the country, and furnished intrepid soldiers to each succeeding revolt against Rome. After the heroic attempt of Sacrovir, the account of whose sublime death you will find in the narrative of our ancestor Fergan, the weak and timid weaver-slave, other insurrections broke out during the reigns of the Emperors Tiberius and Claudius; they increased in force during the civil wars that rent Italy under the reign of Nero. At about that time, one of our heroes, Vindex, as intrepid a patriot as Sacrovir or the Chief of the Hundred Valleys, long held the Roman arms in check. Civilis, another Gallic patriot, taking his stand upon the prophecies of Velleda--one of our female druids, a virile woman, wise in council and worthy compeer of our brave and wise mothers--roused almost all Gaul to revolt and gave the first serious wound to the power of Rome. Finally, during the reign of the Emperor Vitellius, a poor field slave like our ancestor Guilhern set himself up as the messiah and liberator of Gaul, just as Jesus of Nazareth proclaimed himself the Messiah of Judea, and pursued with patriotic ardor the task of liberation that was started by the Chief of the Hundred Valleys and continued after him by Sacrovir, Vindex, Civilis and so many other heroes. That field slave's name was Marik. He was then barely twenty-five years of age; robust, intelligent and gifted with heroic bravery he joined the Sons of the Mistletoe. Our venerable druids, always persecuted, had traversed Gaul inciting the lukewarm, restraining the impatient, and preparing all for the hour of the insurrection. It broke out. At the head of ten thousand slaves, field laborers like himself and armed with their scythes and forks, Marik engaged the Roman troops of Vitellius under the walls of Lyons. That first attempt miscarried; the insurgents were cut to pieces by the Roman army that greatly exceeded them in numbers. But so far from feeling overwhelmed, this defeat intensified the ardor of the revolted people. Whole populations rose in rebellion at the voice of the druids that called them to the holy war. The combatants seemed to spring out of the entrails of the earth, and Marik saw himself again at the head of a numerous army. Endowed by the gods with a military instinct, he disciplined his troops, inspired them with courage and a blind confidence in him, and marched at their head towards the banks of the Rhine, where, sheltered behind its trenches, lay the reserve of the Roman army. Marik attacked it, beat it, and compelled whole legions that he took prisoner to drop their own ensigns and substitute them with our ancient Gallic cock. Those Roman legions had, due to their long sojourn in our country, virtually become Gauls; carried away by the military ascendency of Marik, they readily joined him, combatted under him against the fresh Roman columns that were sent from Italy, and either annihilated or dispersed them. The hour of Gaul's deliverance was about to sound--but at that moment Marik fell through cowardly treason into the hands of the monster Vespasian, then Emperor of Rome. Riddled with wounds the hero of Gaul was delivered to the wild beasts in the circus, like our own ancestor Sylvest. The martyr's death exasperated the population. Fresh insurrections broke out forthwith all over Gaul. The words of Jesus of Nazareth, declaring that the slave is the equal of his master, began to penetrate our own country, filtering through on the lips of itinerant preachers. The flames of hatred for the foreign domination shot up with renewed vigor. Attacked from all sides in Gaul, harrassed on the other side of the Rhine by innumerable hordes of Franks, barbarous warriors that issued from the depths of the northern forests and seemed but to await the propitious moment to pour into Gaul, the Romans finally capitulated to us. At last we harvested the fruits of so many heroic sacrifices! The blood shed by our fathers for the previous three centuries watered our deliverance. Indeed, the words of the Chief of the Hundred Valleys were prophetic: "Flow, flow thou blood of the captive! Drop, drop thou dew of gore! Germinate, sprout up, thou avenging harvest!" Yes, my son, those words were prophetic. It was with that refrain on their lips that our fathers fought and overcame the foreign oppressor. Rome, at last, yielded back to us a part of our ancient freedom. We formed Gallic legions commanded by our own officers; our provinces were once more governed by magistrates of our own choice. Rome reserved only the right to appoint a "Principal" over Gaul, the suzerainty over which she was to retain. We accepted, while waiting and striving for better things--and these better things were not long in coming. Frightened by our continual revolts, our tyrants had been slowly moderating the rigor of our slavery. Terror was to force from them that which they relentlessly refused as a matter of right and justice to the voice of suppliant humanity. First the master was no longer allowed, as he was in the days of Sylvest and several of his descendants, to dispose over the life of his slaves as one disposes over the life of an animal. Later, as their fear increased, the masters were forbidden from inflicting corporal punishments upon their slaves, except with the express authorization of a magistrate. Finally, my child, that horrible Roman law, that, at the time of our ancestor Sylvest and of the five generations that followed him, declared in its ferocious language that the slave does not exist, that "he has no head" (_non caput habet_) that shocking law was, thanks to the dread inspired by our unceasing revolts, modified to the point that the Justinian code declared: "Freedom is a natural right; it is the statute law that has created slavery; it has also created enfranchisement, which is the return to natural freedom." Alack! It is distressing to notice that the sacred rights of humanity can not triumph except at the cost of torrents of blood and of unnumbered disasters! But who is to be cursed as the true cause of all such evils? Is it not the oppressor, seeing that he bends his fellow-men under the yoke of a frightful slavery, lives on the sweat of the brow of his fellow-men, depraves, debases and martyrizes his fellow-beings, kills them to satisfy a whim or out of sheer cruelty, and thus compels them to reconquer by force the freedom that they have been deprived of? Never forget this, my son, if, once subjugated, the whole Gallic race had shown itself as patient, as timid, as resigned as did our poor ancestor Fergan the weaver, our slavery never would have been abolished! After vain appeals to the heart and reason of the oppressor, there is but one means left to overthrow tyranny--revolt--energetic, stubborn, unceasing revolt. Sooner or later right triumphs, as it triumphed with us! Let the blood that our triumph has cost fall upon the heads of those who enslaved us. Accordingly, my son, thanks to our innumerable insurrections, slavery was at first replaced by the state of the colonist, or serfdom, the regime under which my great-grandfather Justin and my grandfather Aurel lived. Under that system, instead of being forced to cultivate under the whip and for the exclusive benefit of the Roman masters the lands that they had plundered us of by conquest, the colonist had a small share of the harvest that he gathered. He could no longer be sold as a draft horse, along with his children; he could no longer be submitted to the torture or killed; but they were, from father to children, compelled to remain attached to the same domain. If the domain was sold, the colonist likewise changed hands under the identical conditions of toil. Later the condition of the colonists was further improved; they were granted the rights of citizenship. When the Gallic legions were formed, the soldiers that composed them became completely free. My father Ralf, the son of a colonist, gained his freedom in that manner; I, the son of a soldier, brought up in camp, was born free; and I shall bequeath that freedom to you, as my father bequeathed it to me together with the duty to preserve it for your descendants. When you will read this narrative, my son, after you will have become acquainted with the manifold sufferings of our ancestors, who were slaves for so many generations, you will appreciate the wisdom of the wish expressed by our ancestor Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak. You will admire his sagacity in expecting that, by piously preserving the memory of its bravery and of the independence that it once enjoyed, the Gallic race would be able to draw from the horror for Roman oppression the strength to overthrow it. At this writing I am thirty-eight years of age. My parents are long dead. Ralf, my father, a soldier in one of our Gallic legions, in which he enrolled at the age of eighteen in the south of Gaul, came into this region, near the western banks of the Rhine, along with the army. He was in all the battles that were fought with the ferocious hordes of the Franks, who, attracted by the fertility of our Gaul and by the wealth contained in our borders, encamped on the opposite shore of the river, ever ready to attempt a new invasion. About four years ago a descent of the insular population of England was feared in Brittany. On that occasion several legions, the one in which my father enlisted among them, were ordered into that province. During several months he was quartered in the city of Vannes, not far from Karnak, the cradle of our family. Having had one of his friends read to him the narratives of our ancestors, Ralf visited with pious respect the battle field of Vannes, the sacred stones of Karnak, and the lands that we were plundered of in Caesar's time by the Roman conquerors. The lands were held by a Roman family; colonists, sons of the Breton Gauls of our tribe and who had formerly been in bondage, now cultivated the lands that their ancestors one time owned. The daughter of one of those colonists loved my father; her love was reciprocated; her name was Madalene; she was one of those proud and virile Gallic women, that our ancestress Margarid, the wife of Joel, was a type of. She followed my father when his legion left Brittany to return to the banks of the Rhine, where I was born in the fortified camp of Mayence, a military city that our troops occupied. The chief of the legion to which my father belonged was the son of a field laborer. His bravery won him the post. On the day after my birth that chief's wife died in child-bed of a baby girl--a girl who, some day perhaps, may yet, from the retreat of her humble home, reign over the world as she reigns to-day over Gaul. To-day, at the time that I write, Victoria, by virtue of her distinguished wisdom, her eminent qualities, the benign influence that she exercises over her son Victorin and over our whole army, is, in point of fact, empress of Gaul. Victoria is my foster-sister. Prizing the solid qualities of mind and heart that my mother was endowed with, when Victoria's father became a widower, he requested my mother to nurse his little babe. Accordingly, she and I grew up like brother and sister. We never since failed in the fraternal affection of our childhood. From her earliest age Victoria was serious and gentle, although she greatly delighted in the blare of trumpets and the sight of arms. She gave promise to be some day of that august beauty that mingles calmness, grace and energy, and that is peculiar to certain women of Gaul. You will see medals that have been struck in her honor when she was still a young maid. She is there represented as Diana the huntress, with a bow in one hand and a torch in the other. On a later medal, struck about two years ago, Victoria is represented with her son Victorin in the guise of Minerva accompanied by Mars. At the age of ten she was sent by her father to a college of female druids. Being now again freed from Roman persecution, thanks to the new birth of Gallic freedom, the druids, male and female, again attended to the education of children as they did of yore. Victoria remained with these venerable women until her fifteenth year. She drew from that patriotic and strict tuition an ardent love for her country, and information on all subjects. She left the college equipped with the secrets of former times, and, it is said, possessing, like Velleda and other female druids, the power of seeing into the future. At that period of her life the proud and virile beauty of Victoria was sublime. When she met me again she was happy and she did not conceal her joy. So far from declining through our long separation from each other, her affection for me, her foster-brother, had increased. I must at this point make an admission to you, my son; I am free to make it because you will not read these lines until after you will be a man. You will find a good example of courage and abnegation in my confession. When Victoria returned in her dazzling beauty of fifteen years I was of the same age and although hardly of the age of puberty myself, I fell distractedly in love with her. I carefully concealed my feelings, out of friendship as well as by reason of the respect that, despite the fraternal attachment of which she every day gave me fresh proof, that serious young maid, who brought with her from the college of the female druids an indescribably imposing, pensive and mysterious appearance, inspired in me. I then underwent a cruel trial. Ignorant of the feelings of my heart, as she ever will be, at fifteen and a half Victoria gave her hand to a young military chief. I came near dying of a slow consuming illness caused by my secret despair. So long as my life seemed in danger, Victoria did not leave the head of my couch. A tender sister could not have attended me with more devoted and touching care. She became a mother. Although a mother, she ever accompanied her husband, to whom she was passionately devoted, whenever called to war. By force of reflection I succeeded at last in overcoming, if not my love, at least its violent manifestations, the pain it gave me, the senselessness of the passion. But there remained in me a sense of boundless devotion towards my foster-sister. She asked me to remain near her and her husband as a horseman in the body of cavalrymen that ordinarily act as escorts to the Gallic chiefs, and either take down in writing or convey their military orders. My foster-sister was barely eighteen years of age when, in a severe battle with the Franks, she lost on the same day both her father and her husband. A widow with her son, for whom she foresaw a glorious future, bravely verified by himself since then, Victoria never left the camp. The soldiers, accustomed ever to see her in their midst, with her child in her arms, and walking between her father and her husband, knew that more than once her profoundly wise advice prevailed in the councils of the chiefs as the advice of our mothers of old often prevailed in the councils of our forefathers. They came to look as a good omen upon the presence of this young woman, who was trained in the mysterious science of the druids. At the death of her father and husband they begged her not to leave the army, declaring to her with naïve affection that thenceforth her son Victorin should be "Son of the Camps" and she the "Mother of the Camps." Touched by so much affection, Victoria remained with the troops, preserving her influence over the chiefs, directing them in the government of Gaul, sedulous in imparting a manly education to her son, and living as modestly as the wife of an officer. Shortly after her husband's death, my foster-sister told me that she would never marry again, it being her intention to consecrate her life entirely to Victorin. The last and insane hope that I nursed when I saw her a widow and free again, was dashed. With time I recovered my senses. I suppressed my ill-starred love and gave no thought but to the service of Victoria and her son. A simple horseman in the army, I served my foster-sister as her secretary. Often she confided important state secrets to me. At times she even charged me with confidential embassies to the military chiefs of Gaul. I taught Victorin to ride, to handle the lance and the sword. Soon I came to love him as an own son. A kinder and more generous disposition than that of the lad could not be imagined. Thus he grew up among the soldiers, who became attached to him by a thousand bonds of habit and of affection. At the age of fourteen he made his first campaign against the franks, who were fast becoming as dangerous enemies to us as the Romans once were. I accompanied him. Like a true Gallic woman his mother remained on horseback and surrounded by the officers, on a hill from which the battle field could be seen on which her son was engaged. He comported himself bravely and was wounded. Being thus from early youth habituated to the life of war, the youth developed great military talents. Intrepid as the bravest of the soldiers, skilful and cautious as a veteran captain, generous to the full extent that his purse allowed it, of a joyful disposition, open and kind to all, he gained ever more the attachment of the army that soon divided with him its adoration for his mother. The day finally arrived when Gaul, already almost independent, demanded to share with Rome the government of our country. The power was then divided between a Gallic and a Roman chief. Rome appointed Posthumus, and our troops unanimously acclaimed Victorin as the Gallic chief and general of the army. Shortly after, he married a young girl by whom he was dearly loved. Unfortunately she died within the year, leaving him a son. Victoria, now a grandmother, devoted herself to her son's child as she had done before to himself, and surrounded the babe with all the cares that the tenderest solicitude could inspire. My early resolve was never to marry. I was nevertheless gradually attracted by the modest graces and the virtue of the daughter of one of the centurions of our army. She was your mother, Ellen, whom I married five years ago. Such has been my life until this day, when I start the narrative that is to follow. Certain remarks of Victoria decided me to write it both for your benefit and the benefit of our descendants. If the expectations of my foster-sister, concerning several incidents in this narrative, are eventually realized, those of our relatives who in the centuries to come may happen to read this story will discover that Victoria, the Mother of the Camps, was gifted, like Hena, the Virgin of the Isle of Sen, and Velleda, the female druid and companion of Civilis, with the holy gift of prevision. What I am here about to narrate happened a week ago. In order to fix the date with greater accuracy I certify that it is written in the city of Mayence, defended by our fortified camp on the borders of the Rhine, on the fifth day of the month of June, as the Romans reckon, of the seventh year of the joint principality of Posthumus and Victorin in Gaul, two hundred and sixty-four years after the death of Jesus of Nazareth, the friend of the poor, who was crucified in Jerusalem under the eyes of our ancestress Genevieve. The Gallic camp, composed of tents and light but solid barracks, is massed around Mayence, which dominates it. Victoria lodges in the city; I occupy a little house not far from the one that she inhabits. PART I. FOREIGN FOES. CHAPTER I. SCHANVOCH AND SAMPSO. The morning of the day that I am telling of, I quitted my bed with the dawn, leaving my beloved wife Ellen soundly asleep. I contemplated her for an instant. Her long loose hair partly covered her bosom; her sweet and beautiful head rested upon one of her folded arms, while the other reclined on your cradle, my son, as if to protect you even during her sleep. I lightly kissed both your foreheads, fearing to awake you. It required an effort on my part to refrain from tenderly embracing you both again and again. I was bound upon a venturesome expedition; perchance, the kiss that I hardly dared to give you was the last you were ever to receive from me. I left the room where you slept and repaired to the contiguous one to arm myself, to don my cuirass over my blouse, and take my casque and sword. I then left the house. At our threshold I met Sampso, my wife's sister, as gentle and beautiful as herself. She held her apron filled with flowers of different colors; they were still wet with the dew. She had just gathered them in our little garden. Seeing me, she smiled and blushed surprised. "Up so early, Sampso?" I said to her. "I thought I was the first one stirring. But what is the purpose of these flowers?" "Is it not to-day a year ago that I came to live with my sister Ellen and you--you forgetful Schanvoch?" she answered with an affectionate smile. "I wish to celebrate the day in our old Gallic fashion. I went out for the flowers in order to garland the house-door, the cradle of your little Alguen, and his mother's head. But you, where are you bound to this morning in full armor?" At the thought that this holiday might turn into a day of mourning for my family I suppressed a sigh, and answered my wife's sister with a smile that was intended to allay suspicion. "Victoria and her son charged me yesterday with some military orders for the chief of a detachment that lies encamped some two leagues from here. It is the military custom to be armed when one has such orders in charge." "Do you know, Schanvoch, that you must arouse jealousy in many a breast?" "Because my foster-sister employs my soldier's sword during war and my pen during truces?" "You forget to say that that foster-sister is Victoria the Great, and that Victorin, her son, entertains for you the respect that he would have for his mother's brother. Hardly a day goes by without Victoria's calling upon you. These are favors that many should envy." "Have I ever sought to profit by these favors, Sampso? Have I not remained a simple horseman, ever declining to be an officer, and requesting the only favor of fighting at Victorin's side?" "Whose life you have already twice saved when he was at the point of perishing under the blows of those barbarous Franks!" "I did but my duty as a soldier and a Gaul. Should I not sacrifice my life to that of a man who is so necessary to our country?" "Schanvoch, we must not quarrel; you know how much I admire Victoria; but--" "But I know your uncharitableness towards her son," I put in with a smile, "you austere and severe Sampso!" "Is it any fault of mine if disorderly conduct finds no favor in my eyes--if I even consider it disgraceful?" "Certes, you are right. Nevertheless I can not avoid being somewhat indulgent towards the foibles of Victorin. A widower at twenty, should he not be excused for yielding at times to the impulses of his age? Dear but implacable Sampso, I let you read the narrative of my ancestress Genevieve. You are gentle and good as Jesus of Nazareth, why do you not imitate his charity towards sinners? He forgave Magdalen because she had loved much. In the name of the same sentiment pardon Victorin!" "There is nothing more worthy of forgiveness than love, when it is sincere. But debauchery has nothing in common with love. Schanvoch, it is as if you were to say to me that my sister and I could be compared with those Bohemian girls who recently arrived in Mayence." "In point of looks they might be compared with you or Ellen, seeing that they are said to be ravishingly beautiful. But the comparison ends there, Sampso. I trust but little the virtue of those strollers, however charming, however brilliantly arrayed they may be, who travel from town to town singing and dancing for public amusement--even if they indulge not in worse practices." "And for all that, I make no doubt that, when you least expect it, you will see Victorin the general of the army, one of the two Chiefs of Gaul, accompany on horseback the chariot in which these Bohemian girls promenade every evening along the borders of the Rhine. And if I should feel indignant at the sight of the son of Victoria serving as escort to such creatures, you would surely say to me: 'Forgive the sinner, just as Jesus forgave Magdalen the sinner.' Go to, Schanvoch, the man who can delight in unworthy amours is capable of--" But Sampso suddenly broke off. "Finish your sentence," I said to her, "express yourself in full, I pray you." "No," she answered after reflecting a moment; "the time has not yet come for that. I would not like to risk a hasty word." "See here," I said to her, "I am sure that what you have in mind is one of those ridiculous stories about Victorin that for some time have been floating about in the army, without its being possible to trace the slanders to their source. Can you, Sampso, you, with all your good sense and good heart, make yourself the echo of such gossip, such unworthy calumnies?" "Adieu, Schanvoch; I told you I was not going to quarrel with you, dear brother, on the subject of the hero whom you defend against all comers." "What would you have me do? It is my foible. I love his mother as an own sister. I love her son as if he were my own. Are you not as guilty as myself, Sampso? Is not my little Alguen, your sister's son, as dear to you as if he were your own child? Take my word for it, when Alguen will be twenty and you hear him accused of some youthful indiscretion, you will, I feel quite sure, defend him with even more warmth than I defend Victorin. But we need not wait so long, have you not begun your role of pleader for him, already? When the rascal is guilty of some misconduct, is it not his aunt Sampso whom he fetches to intercede in his behalf? He knows how you love him!" "Is not my sister's son mine?" "Is that the reason you do not wish to marry?" "Surely, brother," she answered with a blush and a slight embarrassment. After a moment's silence she resumed: "I hope you will be back home at noon to complete our little feast?" "The moment my mission is fulfilled I shall return. Adieu, Sampso!" "Adieu, Schanvoch!" And leaving his wife's sister engaged in her work of garlanding the house-door, Schanvoch walked rapidly away, revolving in his mind the topic of the conversation that Sampso had just broached. CHAPTER II. ON THE RHINE. I had often asked myself why Sampso, who was a year older than Ellen, and as beautiful and virtuous as my wife, had until then rejected several offers of marriage. At times I suspected that she entertained some secret love, other times I surmised she might belong to one of the Christian societies that began to spread over Gaul and in which the women took the vow of virginity, as did several of our female druids. I also pondered the reason for Sampso's reticence when I asked her to be more explicit concerning Victorin. Soon, however, I dropped all these subjects and turned my mind upon the expedition that I had in charge. I wended my way towards the advance posts of the camp and addressed myself to an officer under whose eyes I placed a scroll with a few lines written by Victorin. The officer immediately put four picked soldiers at my disposal. They were chosen from among a number whose special department was to manoeuvre the craft of the military flotilla that was used in ascending or descending the Rhine in order, whenever occasion required, to defend the fortified camp. Upon my recommendation the four soldiers left their arms behind. I alone was armed. As we passed a clump of oak trees I cut down a few branches to be placed at the prow of the bark that was to transport us. We soon arrived at the river bank, where we found several boats that were reserved for the service of the army, tied to their stakes. While two of the soldiers fastened on the prow of the boat the oak branches that I had furnished them with, the other two examined the oars with expert eyes in order to assure themselves that they were in fit condition for use. I took the rudder, and we left the shore. The four soldiers rowed in silence for a while. Presently the oldest of them, a veteran with a grey moustache and white hair, said to me: "There is nothing like a Gallic song to make time pass quickly and the oars strike in rhythm. I should say that some old national refrain, sung in chorus, renders the sculls lighter and the water more easy to cleave through. Are we allowed to sing, friend Schanvoch?" "You seem to know me, comrade?" "Who in the army does not know the foster-brother of the Mother of the Camps?" "Being a simple horseman I thought my name was more obscure than it seems to be." "You have remained a simple horseman despite our Victoria's friendship for you. That is why, Schanvoch, everybody knows and esteems you." "You certainly make me feel happy by saying so. What is your name?" "Douarnek." "You must be a Breton!" "From the neighborhood of Vannes." "My family also comes from that neighborhood." "I thought as much, your name being a Breton name. Well, friend Schanvoch, may we sing a song? Our officer gave us orders to obey you as we would himself. I know not whither you are taking us, but a song is heard far away, especially when it is struck up in chorus by vigorous and broad-chested lads. Perhaps we must not draw attention upon our bark?" "Just now you may sing--later not--we shall have to advance without making any noise." "Well, boys, what shall we sing?" said the veteran without either himself or his companions intermitting the regular strokes of their oars, and only slightly turning his head towards them, seeing that, seated as he was on the first bench, he sat opposite to me. "Come, make your choice!" "The song of the mariners, will that suit you?" answered one of the soldiers. "That is rather long," replied Douarnek. "The song of the Chief of the Hundred Valleys?" "That is very beautiful," again replied Douarnek, "but it is a song of slaves who await their deliverance; by the bones of our fathers, we are now free in old Gaul!" "Friend Douarnek," said I, "it was to the refrain of that slaves' song--'Flow, flow, thou blood of the captive! Drop, drop, thou dew of gore!' that our fathers, arms in hand, reconquered the freedom that we enjoy to-day." "That is true, Schanvoch, but that song is very long, and you warned us that we were soon to become silent as fishes." "Douarnek," one of the soldiers spoke up, "sing to us the song of Hena the Virgin of the Isle of Sen. It always brings tears to my eyes. She is my favorite saint, the beautiful and sweet Hena, who lived centuries and centuries ago." "Yes, yes," said the other soldiers, "sing the song of Hena, Douarnek! That song predicts the victory of Gaul--and Gaul is to-day triumphant!" Hearing these words I was greatly moved, I felt happy and, I confess it, proud at seeing that the name of Hena, dead more than three hundred years, had remained in Gaul as popular as it was at the time of Sylvest. "Very well, the song of Hena it shall be!" replied the veteran. "I also love the sweet and saintly girl, who offered her blood to Hesus for the deliverance of Gaul. And you, Schanvoch, do you know the song?" "Yes--quite well--I have heard it sung--" "You will know it enough to repeat the refrain with us." Saying this Douarnek struck up the song in a full and sonorous voice that reached far over the waters of the Rhine: "She was young, she was fair, And holy was she. To Hesus her blood gave That Gaul might be free. Hena her name! Hena, the Maid of the Island of Sen! "--Blessed be the gods, my sweet daughter,-- Said her father Joel, The brenn of the tribe of Karnak. --Blessed be the gods, my sweet daughter, Since you are at home this night To celebrate the day of your birth!-- "--Blessed be the gods, my sweet girl,-- Said Margarid, her mother. --Blessed be your coming! But why is your face so sad?-- "--My face is sad, my good mother; My face is sad, my good father, Because Hena your daughter Comes to bid you Adieu, Till we meet again.-- "--And where are you going, my sweet daughter? Will your journey, then, be long? Whither thus are you going?-- "--I go to those worlds So mysterious, above, That no one yet knows, But that all will yet know. Where living ne'er traveled, Where all will yet travel, To live there again With those we have loved.--" And myself and the three other oarsmen replied in chorus: "She was young, she was fair, And holy was she. To Hesus her blood gave, That Gaul might be free. Hena her name! Hena, the Maid of the Island of Sen!" Douarnek then proceeded with the song: "Hearing Hena speak these words, Sadly gazed upon her her father And her mother, aye, all the family, Even the little children, For Hena loved them very dearly. "--But why, dear daughter, Why now quit this world, And travel away beyond Without the Angel of Death having called you?-- "--Good father, good mother, Hesus is angry. The stranger now threatens our Gaul so beloved. The innocent blood of a virgin Offered by her to the gods May their anger well soften. Adieu, then, till we meet again, Good father, good mother, Adieu till we meet again, All, my dear ones and friends. These collars preserve, and these rings As mementoes of me. Let me kiss for the last time your blonde heads, Dear little ones. Good bye till we meet. Remember your Hena, she waits for you yonder, In the worlds yet unknown.--" And the other oarsmen and I replied in chorus to the rythmical sound of the oars: "She was young, she was fair, And holy was she. To Hesus her blood gave That Gaul might be free. Hena her name. Hena, the Maid of the Island of Sen!" Douarnek proceeded: "Bright is the moon, high is the pyre Which rises near the sacred stones of Karnak; Vast is the gathering of the tribes Which presses 'round the funeral pile. "Behold her, it is she, it is Hena! She mounts the pyre, her golden harp in hand, And singeth thus: "--Take my blood, O Hesus, And deliver my land from the stranger. Take my blood, O Hesus, Pity for Gaul! Victory to our arms!-- And it flowed, the blood of Hena. "O, holy Virgin, in vain 'twill not have been, The shedding of your innocent and generous blood. Bowed beneath the yoke, Gaul will some day rise erect, Free and proud, and crying, like thee, --Victory and Freedom!" And Douarnek, along with the three other soldiers, repeated in a low voice, vibrating with pious admiration, this last refrain: "So it was that she offered her blood to Hesus, To Hesus for the deliverance of Gaul! She was young, she was fair, And holy was she, Hena her name! Hena, the Maid of the Island of Sen!" I alone did not join in the last refrain of the song. I was too deeply moved! Noticing my emotion and my silence, Douarnek said to me surprised: "What, Schanvoch, have you lost your voice? You remain silent at the close of so glorious a song?" "Your speech is sooth, Douarnek; it is just because that song is particularly glorious to me--that you see me so deeply moved." "That song is particularly glorious to you? I do not understand you." "Hena was the daughter of one of my ancestors." "What say you!" "Hena was the daughter of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, who died, together with his wife and almost all his family, at the great battle of Vannes--a battle that was fought on land and water nearly three centuries ago. From father to son, I descend from Joel." "Do you know, Schanvoch," replied Douarnek, "that even kings would be proud of such an ancestry?" "The blood shed for our country and for liberty by all of us Gauls is our national patent of nobility," I said to him. "It is for that reason that our old songs are so popular among us." "When one considers," put in one of the younger soldiers, "that it is now more than three hundred years since Hena, the saintly maid, surrendered her own life for the deliverance of the country, and that her name still reaches us!" "Although it took the young virgin's voice more than two centuries to rise to the ears of Hesus," replied Douarnek, "her voice did finally reach him, seeing that to-day we can say--Victory to our arms! Victory and freedom!" We had now arrived at about the middle of the river, where the stream is very rapid. Raising his oar, Douarnek asked me: "Shall we enter the strong current? That would be a waste of strength, unless we are either to ascend or descend the river a distance equal to that that now separates us from the shore." "We are to cross the Rhine in its full breadth, friend Douarnek." "Cross it!" cried the veteran with amazement. "Cross the Rhine! And what for?" "To land on the opposite shore." "Do you know what that means, Schanvoch? Is not the army of those Frankish bandits, if one can honor those savage hordes with the name of army, encamped on the opposite shore?" "It is to those very barbarians that I am bound." For a few moments all the four oars rested motionless in their oarlocks. The soldiers looked at one another speechless, as if they could not believe what they heard me say. Douarnek was the first to break the silence. With a soldier's unconcern he said to me: "Is it, then, a sacrifice that we are to offer to Hesus by delivering our hides to those hide-tanners? If such be the orders, forward! Bend to your oars, my lads!" "Have you forgotten, Douarnek, that we have a truce of eight days with the Franks?" "There is no such thing as a truce to those brigands." "As you will notice, I have made the signal of peace by ornamenting the prow of our bark with green boughs. I shall proceed alone into the enemy's camp, with an oak branch in my hand." "And they will slay you despite all your oak branches, as they have slain other envoys during previous truces." "That may happen, Douarnek; but when the chief commands, the soldier obeys. Victoria and her son have ordered me to proceed to the Frankish camp. So thither I go!" "It surely was not out of fear that I spoke, Schanvoch, when I said that those savages would not leave our heads on our shoulders, nor our skins on our bodies. I only spoke from the old habit of sincerity. Well, then, my lads, fall to with a will! Bend to your oars! We have the order from our mother--the Mother of the Camps--and we obey. Forward! even if we are to be flayed alive by the barbarians, a cruel sport that they often indulge in at the expense of their prisoners." "And it is also said," put in the young soldier with a less unperturbed voice than Douarnek's, "it is also said that the priestesses of the nether world who follow the Frankish hordes drop their prisoners into large brass caldrons, and boil them alive with certain magic herbs." "Ha! Ha!" replied Douarnek merrily, "the one of us who may be boiled in that way will at least enjoy the advantage of being the first to taste his own soup--that's some consolation. Forward! Ply your oars! We are obeying orders from the Mother of the Camps." "Oh! We would row straight into an abyss, if Victoria so ordered!" "She has been well named, the Mother of the Camps and of the soldiers. It is a treat to see her visiting the wounded after each battle." "And addressing them with her kind words, that almost make the whole ones regret that they have not been wounded, too." "And then she is so beautiful. Oh, so beautiful!" "Oh! When she rides through the camp, mounted on her white steed, clad in her long black robe, her bold face looking out from under her casque, and yet her eyes shining with so much mildness, and her smile so motherly! It is like a vision!" "It is said for certain that our Victoria knows the future as well as she knows the present." "She must have some charm about her. Who would believe, seeing her, that she is the mother of a son of twenty-two?" "Oh! If the son had only fulfilled the promise that his younger years gave!" "Victorin will always be loved as he has been." "Yes, but it is a great pity!" remarked Douarnek shaking his head sadly, after the other soldiers had thus given vent to their thoughts and feelings. "Yes, it is a great pity! Oh! Victorin is no longer the child of the camps that we, old soldiers with grey moustaches, knew as a baby, rode on our knees, and, down to only recently, looked upon with pride and friendship!" The words of these soldiers struck me with deeper apprehension than Sampso's words did a few hours before. Not only did I often have to defend Victorin with the severe Sampso, but I had latterly noticed in the army a silent feeling of resentment towards my foster-sister's son, who until then, was the idol of the soldiers. "What have you to reproach Victorin with?" I asked Douarnek and his companions. "Is he not brave among the bravest? Have you not watched his conduct in war?" "Oh! If a battle is on, he fights bravely, as bravely as yourself, Schanvoch, when you are at his side, on your large bay horse, and more intent upon defending the son of your foster-sister than upon defending yourself. '_Your scars would declare it, if they could speak through the mouths of your wounds_,' as our old proverb says!" "I fight as a soldier; Victorin fights as a captain. And has not that young captain of only twenty-two years already won five great battles against the Germans and the Franks?" "His mother, well named Victoria, must have contributed with her counsel towards his victories. He confers with her upon his plans of campaign. But, anyhow, it is true, Victorin is a brave soldier and good captain." "And is not his purse open to all, so long as there is anything in it? Do you know of any invalid who ever vainly applied to him?" "Victorin is generous--that also is true." "Is he not the friend and comrade of the soldiers? Is he ever haughty?" "No, he is a good comrade, and always cheerful. Besides, what should he be proud about? Are not his father, his glorious mother and himself from the Gallic plebs, like the rest of us?" "Do you not know, Douarnek, that often it happens that the proudest people are the very ones who have risen from the lowest ranks?" "Victorin is not proud!" "Does he not, during war, sleep unsheltered with his head upon the saddle of his horse, like the rest of us horsemen?" "Brought up by so virile a mother as his, he was bound to grow up a rough soldier, as he is." "Are you not aware that in council he displays a maturity of judgment that many men of our age do not possess? In short, is it not his bravery, his kindness, his good judgment, his rare military qualities as a soldier and captain that caused him to be acclaimed general by the army, and one of the two Chiefs of Gaul?" "Yes, but in electing him, all of us knew that his mother Victoria would always be near him, guiding him, instructing him, schooling him in the art of governing men, without neglecting, worthy matron that she is, to sew her linen near the cradle of her grandson, as is her thrifty habit." "No one knows better than I how precious the advices of Victoria to her son are to our country. But what is it, then, that has changed? Is she not always there, watching over Victorin and Gaul that she loves with equal and paternal devotion? Come, now, Douarnek, answer me with a soldier's frankness. Whence comes the hostility that, I fear, is ever spreading and deepening against Victorin, our young and brave general?" "Listen, Schanvoch. I am, like yourself, a seasoned soldier. Your moustache, although younger than mine, begins to show grey streaks. Do you want to know the truth? Here it is: We are all aware that the life of the camp does not make people chaste and reserved like young girls who are brought up by our venerated female druids. We also know, because we have emptied many a cup, that our Gallic wines throw us into a merry and riotous humor. We know, furthermore, that when he is in a garrison, the young soldier who proudly carries a cockade on his casque and caresses his brown or blonde moustache, does not long preserve the friendship of fathers who have handsome daughters, or of husbands who have handsome wives. But, for all that, you will have to admit, Schanvoch, that a soldier who is habitually intoxicated like a brute, and takes cowardly advantage of women, would deserve to be treated to a hundred or more stripes laid on well upon his back, and to be ignominiously driven from camp. Is not that so?" "That is all very true, but what connection has it with Victorin?" "Listen, friend Schanvoch, and then answer me. If an obscure soldier deserves such treatment for his shameful conduct, what should be done to an army chief who disgraces himself in such fashion?" "Do you venture to say that Victorin has offered violence to women and that he is daily drunk?" I cried indignantly. "I say that you lie, or those who carried such tales to you lied. So, these are the unworthy rumors that circulate in the camp against Victorin! And can you be credulous enough to attach faith to them?" "Soldiers are not quite so credulous, friend Schanvoch, but they are aware of the old Gallic proverb--'The lost sheep are charged to the shepherd.' Now, for instance, you know Captain Marion, the old blacksmith?" "Yes, I know the brave fellow to be one of the best officers in the army." "The famous Captain Marion, who can carry an ox on his shoulders," put in one of the soldiers, "and who can knock down the same ox with a blow of his fist--his arm is as heavy as the iron mace of a butcher." "And Captain Marion," added another oarsman, "is a good comrade, for all that, despite his strength and military renown. He took a simple soldier, a former fellow blacksmith, for his 'friend in war,' or, as they used to say in olden times, took the 'pledge of brotherhood' with him." "I am aware of the bravery, modesty, good judgment and austerity of Captain Marion," I answered him, "but why do you now bring in his name?" "Have a little patience, friend Schanvoch, I shall satisfy you in a minute. Did you see the two Bohemian girls enter Mayence a few days ago in a wagon drawn by mules covered with tinkling bells and led by a Negro lad?" "I did not see the women, but have heard them mentioned. But I must insist upon it, what has all this got to do with Victorin?" "I have reminded you of the proverb--'The lost sheep are charged to the shepherd.' It would be idle to attribute habits of drunkenness and incontinence to Captain Marion, would it not? Despite all his simpleness, the soldier would not believe a word of such slanders; not so? While, on the other hand, the soldier would be ready to believe any story of debauchery about the said Bohemian strollers, and he would trust the narrator of the tale, do you understand?" "I understand you, Douarnek, and I shall be frank in turn. Yes, Victorin loves wine and indulges in it with some of his companions in arms. Yes, having been left a widower at the age of twenty, only a few months after his marriage, Victorin has occasionally yielded to the headlong impulses of youth. Often did his mother, as well as myself, regret that he was not endowed with greater austerity in morals, a virtue, however, that is extremely rare at his age. But, by the anger of the gods! I, who have never been from Victorin's side since his earliest childhood, deny that drunkenness is habitual with him; above all I deny that he ever was base enough to do violence to a woman!" "Schanvoch, you defend the son of your foster-sister out of the goodness of your heart, although you know him to be guilty--unless you really are ignorant of what you deny--" "What am I ignorant of?" "An adventure that has raised a great scandal, and that everybody in camp knows." "What adventure?" "A short time ago Victorin and several officers of the army went to a tavern on one of the isles near the border of the Rhine to drink and make merry. In the evening, being by that time drunk as usual, Victorin violated the tavern-keeper's wife, who, in her despair, threw herself into the river and was drowned." "The soldier who misdemeaned himself in that manner," remarked one of the oarsmen, "would speedily have his head cut off by a strict chief." "And he would have deserved the punishment," added another oarsman. "As much as the next man, I would find pleasure in bantering with the tavern-keeper's wife. But to offer her violence, that is an act of savagery worthy only of those Frankish butchers, whose priestesses, veritable devil's cooks, boil their prisoners alive in their caldrons." I was so stupefied by the accusation made against Victorin that I remained silent for a moment. But my voice soon came to me and I cried: "Calumny! A calumny as infamous as the act would have been. Who is it dares accuse Victoria's son of such a crime?" "A well informed man," Douarnek answered me. "His name! Give me the liar's name!" "His name is Morix. He was the secretary of one of Victoria's relatives. He came to the camp about a month ago to confer upon grave matters." "The relative is Tetrik, the Governor of Gascony," I said with increased stupefaction. "The man is the incarnation of kindness and loyalty; he is one of Victoria's oldest and most faithful friends." "All of which renders the man's testimony all the more reliable." "What! He, Tetrik! Did Tetrik confirm what you have just said?" "He communicated it to his secretary, and confirmed the occurrence, while deploring the shocking excesses of Victorin's dissoluteness." "Calumny! Tetrik has only words of kindness and esteem for Victoria's son." "Schanvoch, I have served in the army for the last twenty-five years. Ask my officers whether Douarnek is a liar." "I believe you to be sincere; only you have been shamefully imposed upon." "Morix, the secretary of Tetrik, narrated the occurrence not to me only but to other soldiers in the camp for whose wine he was paying. We all placed confidence in his words, because more than once did I myself and several others of my companions see Victorin and his friends heated with wine and indulging in crazy feats of arms." "Does not the ardor of courage heat up young heads as much as wine?" "Listen, Schanvoch, I have seen--with my own eyes--Victorin drive his steed into the Rhine saying that he would cross the river on horseback; and he would certainly have been drowned had not another soldier and I rushed into a boat and fished him half drunk out of the water, while the current carried his horse away. And do you know what Victorin then said to us? 'You should have let me drink; the white wine of Beziers runs in this stream.' What I am telling you now is no calumny, Schanvoch, I saw it with my own eyes, heard it with my own ears." Despite my attachment to Victorin I could not but reply to the soldier's testimony, saying: "I knew him to be incapable of an act of cowardice and infamy; but I also knew him to be capable of certain acts of extravagance and hotheadedness." "As to myself," replied another soldier, "more than once, as I mounted guard near Victorin's house which is separated from Victoria's by a little plot of flowers, have I seen veiled women leave his place at early dawn. They were of all colors and sizes, blondes and brunettes, tall and short, some robust and stout, others slender and thin. At least, that was the impression that the women left upon me, unless the gloaming deceived my sight, and it was always the same woman." "I notice that you are too sincere to make any answer to that, friend Schanvoch," Douarnek said to me; indeed, I could raise no objection against the latter accusation. "You must, therefore, not feel surprised at our trust in the words of Tetrik's secretary. You must admit that the man who in a drunken fit takes the Rhine for a stream of Bezier's wine, and from whose house a procession of women is seen to issue in the morning, is quite capable, in a fit of inebriety, of doing violence to a tavern-keeper's wife." "No!" I cried. "A man may be afflicted with the faults of his years in an aggravated degree, without therefore being an infamous fellow, a criminal!" "See here, Schanvoch, you are the personal friend of our mother Victoria. You love Victorin as if he were your own son. Say to him--'The soldiers, even the grossest and most dissolute among them, do not like to see their own vices reproduced in the chief whom they have chosen. By your conduct, the army's affection is daily withdrawn more and more from you and is centering wholly upon Victoria.'" "Yes," I answered thoughtfully, "and the process started since Tetrik, the Governor of Gascony, the relative and friend of Victoria, made his last visit to our camp. Until then our young chief was generally beloved, despite his little foibles." "That is true. He is so good, so brave, so kind to all! He sat his horse so well! He had so bold a military bearing! We loved the young captain as an own child! We knew him as a babe, and rode him on our knees when still a little fellow, during the watches in the camp! Later we shut our eyes to his foibles, because parents are ever indulgent! But there can be no room for indulgence towards baseness!" "And of this baseness," I replied, now more and more forcibly struck by the circumstance, which, recalling certain incidents to my mind, awakened a vague suspicion in me, "and of these acts of baseness there is no evidence other than the word of Tetrik's secretary?" "The secretary repeated to us his own master's words." During this conversation, to which I lent increasing attention, our bark, ever moving forward under the vigorous strokes of the four oarsmen, had traversed the Rhine and reached the opposite shore. The soldier's backs were turned to the bank on which we were about to land. I was so wholly absorbed in what I had just learned regarding the army's increasing disaffection towards Victorin, that I never once thought of casting my eyes upon the shore to which we were drawing near. Suddenly a sharp whizz struck our ears. I cried out: "Throw yourselves down flat upon your benches!" It was too late. A volley of long arrows flew over our boat. One of the oarsmen was instantly killed, while Douarnek, whose back was still turned to the shore received one of the arrows in the back. "This is the way the Franks receive parliamentarians during a truce," remarked the veteran without dropping his oar, and even without turning around. "This is the first time I have been hit in the back. An arrow in the back does not become a soldier. Pull it out quick, comrade," he added, addressing the oarsman who sat behind him. But despite his intrepidity, Douarnek managed his oar with less vigor. Although the wound that he received was not serious, his face betrayed the pain that he felt; the blood flowed copiously. "I told you so, Schanvoch," he proceeded to say. "I told you that your foliage of peace would prove a poor rampart against the treachery of the Frankish barbarians. Fall to, my lads! We must now row all the harder, seeing we are only three left. Our comrade yonder, who is bumping his nose against his bench, with his limbs stiffened, can no longer count as an oarsman!" Douarnek had not finished his sentence before I dashed forward to the prow of the bark, and passing over the corpse of the soldier who lay dead across his bench seized one of the oak branches and waved it over my head as a signal of peace. A second volley of arrows, that came flying from behind an embankment of the river, was the only answer to my appeal. One of the missiles grazed my arm, another broke off its point against my iron casque; but none of the soldiers was hit. We were then only a short distance from the shore. I threw myself into the water, swam a little distance, and as soon as my feet struck ground called out to Douarnek: "Pull the bark safely beyond the reach of the arrows and drop anchor, then wait for me. If I am not back after sunset, return to camp and inform Victoria that I have either been made prisoner or killed by the Franks. She will take my wife Ellen and my son Alguen under her protection." "I do not at all like the idea of leaving you alone in the hands of those barbarians, friend Schanvoch," answered Douarnek; "but to stay where we can be killed would be to deprive you of all possible means of return to our camp, should you be lucky enough to escape with your life. Courage, Schanvoch! We shall await the evening!" And the bark pulled away, while I clambered up the embankment. CHAPTER III. THE HORDES OF THE FRANKS. I had hardly reached the shore, always holding the green oak branch aloft, when I saw a large number of Franks, belonging to the hordes of their army, rush forward from behind the rocks where they had lain in ambush. They carried black bucklers and wore casques made of black calves' skin. Their arms, legs and faces were dyed black in order to escape detection when they march in the shadow of the forests or contemplate an attack in the night. Their appearance was rendered all the more hideous and strange, seeing that their chiefs were tattooed with a bright red on their foreheads, their cheeks and around their eyes. My long sojourn along the Rhine enabled me to speak the Frankish tongue with sufficient fluency. The black warriors emitted savage yells, surrounded me from all sides and threatened me with their long knives, the blades of which also were blackened in the fire. "A truce has been concluded, several days ago," I cried out to them; "I have come in the name of the chief of the Gallic army with a message to the chiefs of your hordes. Lead me to them. You surely will not kill an unarmed man?" Saying this I drew my sword and threw it away. The barbarians immediately precipitated themselves upon me, redoubling their cries for my blood. Some of them unwound the cords of their bows, and, despite all my remonstrances, threw me to the ground and bound me fast. "Let us flay him," said one. "We shall carry his skin to the chief Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle. It will serve him as a bandage to wrap his legs in." I was well aware that the Franks often skinned their enemies alive with great dexterity, and that the chiefs of their hordes decked themselves triumphantly with such human spoils. The proposition that I be skinned alive was received with shouts of approval; those who held me down began to cast about for a convenient place to perform the operation; others started to sharpen their knives upon the pebbles. At this juncture, the warrior in command of the band approached me. The man was horrible to behold. A bright red tattoo encircled his eyes and streaked his cheeks. The marks looked like bleeding wounds, standing off strongly against his blackened face. His hair, raised after the Frankish style over his forehead and tied in a knot on top of his head, fell back like the plume of a helmet over his shoulders, and was of a coppery yellow, due to the lime-water that those barbarians used in order to impart a warm bright color to their hair and beard.[1] Around his neck and his wrists he wore a necklace and bracelets of rough wrought tin. His raiment consisted of a casque of black calfskin; strips of black calfskin fastened with criss-cross bandelets, covered his thighs and lower extremities. A sword and a long knife hung from his belt. After fixedly looking at me for a moment, he raised his hand and letting it down on my shoulder said: "I shall take and keep this Gaul for Elwig. He is my prisoner." Muffled growls from several of the other black warriors greeted these words of their chief, who, raising his voice, proceeded to say: "I, Riowag, will take this Gaul to the priestess Elwig. Elwig needs a prisoner for her auguries." The chief's decision was acquiesced in by the majority of the black warriors; the growls ceased; and a mob of voices repeated in chorus: "Yes, yes; the Gaul must be kept for Elwig!" "He must be taken to Elwig!" "It is many days since she consulted our tutelary deities!" "And we," cried one of the black warriors who had bound me, "we object to having the prisoner delivered to Elwig. We want to flay him and present his skin in token of homage to the chief Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle; he will reward us with some present." There is small choice between being skinned alive and being boiled in a brass caldron. I did not feel called upon to manifest my preferences, and took no part whatever in the debate. Already those who wished to flay me cast savage glances at those who insisted that I be boiled, and carried their hands to their knives, when one of the black warriors proposed a compromise to the chief: "Riowag, do you want to deliver the Gaul to the priestess Elwig?" "Yes," answered the chief; "yes, I want to, and it shall be done as I order!" "And the rest of you," proceeded the conciliatory black warrior, "you wish to offer the Gaul's skin to the chief Neroweg?" "That is what we propose to do!" "Very well, you can be accommodated, both." A profound silence fell all around at these conciliatory words. The black warrior proceeded: "First, flay him alive, you will then have his skin; after that Elwig will boil his body in her caldron." The compromise seemed at first to satisfy both parties, but Riowag, the captain of the band, objected: "Do you not know that Elwig needs a living prisoner to render her auguries certain? You would be giving her only a corpse if you first flay the Gaul." And he added in a terrific voice: "Would you expose yourselves to the anger of the gods of the nether world by depriving them of a victim?" At this threat a shudder ran through the surrounding black warriors, and the party that demanded my skin seemed about to yield to a superstitious terror. The peacemaker, the warrior who had proposed that I be first flayed and then boiled, now spoke again: "Some of you wish to present the Gaul as an offering to the great Neroweg, others of you wish to present him to the priestess Elwig. Now do you not see that to give to the one is to give to the other also? Is not Elwig Neroweg's sister?" "And he would be the first to surrender the Gaul to the gods of the nether world, in order to render them propitious to our arms!" put in Riowag. The captain of the black warriors pointed thereupon at me, and added imperiously: "Take the Gaul on your shoulders and follow me!" "We want to have his spoils," said one of the black warriors who were the first to seize me. "We want his casque, his cuirass, his blouse, his belt, his shirt. We want everything, down to his shoes!" "The booty belongs to you," answered Riowag. "You will have it so soon as Elwig will have stripped the Gaul preparatorily to throwing him into her caldron." "We shall go with you, Riowag," replied the black warriors who made the arrest, "otherwise others than ourselves will take possession of the plunder from the Gaul." My perplexity was now at an end. I knew my fate. I was to be boiled alive. I would have gladly looked a useful or brave death in the face; but the death that awaited me seemed so barren and absurd, that I decided to make one more effort to save my life. Addressing the captain of the black warriors, I said: "Your conduct is unjust. Frankish warriors have often come to the Gallic camp to solicit an exchange of prisoners. Those Franks have always been respected. A truce is now in force between us, during a truce only spies who furtively enter the camp are put to death. I have come in open daylight, with a green bough in my hand, and in the name of Victorin, the son of Victoria. I am the carrier of a message from them for the chiefs of the Frankish army. Take care! If you act without orders from them, they will be sorry for not having heard me, and they may make you pay dearly for your treachery towards a soldier, who comes unarmed, during a truce, and in broad daylight, with the bough of peace in his hand." Riowag's answer to my words was a sign to his band. I was immediately raised up by four black warriors who placed me on their shoulders and carried me off in the tracks of their captain, who marched with a solemn air in the direction of the Frankish camp. At the moment when the barbarians raised me on their shoulders, I overheard one of those who wished to flay me alive say to one of his companions in a mocking tone: "Riowag is Elwig's lover; he wishes to make a present of the prisoner to his mistress." These words enabled me to realize that Riowag, the captain of the band of black warriors, being the lover of the priestess Elwig, gallantly made her a present of my person, just as in our country bridegrooms offer a dove or a sheep to the young girl whom they love. You will be astonished, my child, to find in this narrative that I have used words that sound almost droll in describing events that were so threatening to my life. Do not imagine that this is due to the circumstance that at the hour when I write these lines, I had escaped all danger. No. Even when the danger was most imminent--a danger from which I was almost miraculously delivered--I had full control of my spirit, and the old Gallic sense of humor, a thing so natural to our race, however long it lay torpid under the weight of the shame and the trials of slavery, revived in me as it did with so many others when we once more tasted the boon of freedom. The observations that you will encounter, and which I have reproduced as they occurred to me at times when death seemed inevitable, were sincere, they proceeded from my faith in that belief of our fathers that man never dies, that when he leaves this world he enters others in which he proceeds to live. Carried upon the shoulders of the four black warriors, I traversed a section of the Frankish camp. The vast bivouac which was arranged without order, consisted of huts for the chiefs and tents for the soldiers. It was a sort of gigantic village of savages. Here and there lay their innumerable war chariots sheltered under rude sheds made of the trunks of trees. Their indefatigable small, lean, rough-coated and shaggy-maned horses, that they managed with a halter of cord for only bridle, were, as is the custom with these barbarians, tied to the wheels of the chariots or to the trunks of trees, the bark of which they gnawed at. The Franks themselves, barely clad in skins of animals, their hair and beard greasy with suet, presented an aspect that was repulsive, stupid and ferocious. Some of them were stretched out at full length in the warm rays of that sun that they started in search of from the depths of their dark northern forests. Others found amusement in the hunt for vermin over their hairy bodies; these barbarians lived in such filth that, although they were in the open air, their encampment exhaled a fetid odor. At the sight of these undisciplined hordes, ill armed but innumerable, and whose forces were incessantly recruited by fresh migrations that poured down in mass from the glacial regions of the north to swoop upon the fertile and laughing fields of our Gaul as upon a prey, certain words of sinister omen that escaped the lips of Victoria came to my mind. Nevertheless supreme contempt speedily filled me for those barbarians, who, three or four times superior to our own armies in point of numbers, never had been able, despite many a bloody battle delivered for a number of years, to invade our soil, but found themselves every time driven back to the other side of the Rhine, our natural frontier. While crossing a section of the encampment on the shoulders of the four black warriors who carried me, I was pursued by insults, threats and cries for my blood from the Franks who saw me pass. Several times was the escort that accompanied me obliged, upon orders from Riowag, to use their arms in order to prevent my being slain on the spot. Thus we arrived at last near a thick wood. I observed in passing a large and more carefully constructed hut than the others, before which a yellow and red banner was planted. A large number of horsemen clad in bearskins, some in the saddle, others on foot near their mounts and leaning on their long lances, were posted around the habitation, thereby indicating clearly enough that it was occupied by one of the leading chiefs of their hordes. Again I sought to persuade Riowag, who now marched beside me, but still grave, silent and solemn, to conduct me first to that one of the chiefs whose banner I saw, after which, I said to him, they might kill me if they so pleased. My requests were vain. We entered the thick wood, and arrived at a large clearing, to the center of which I was taken. At a little distance I noticed a natural grotto, formed of large blocks of grey rock, from between which saplings and stately chestnut trees shot upwards. A stream of living water that trickled over the ledges of rock fell into a sort of natural basin. Not far from the cavern stood a brass pan, rather narrow and of about the length of a man. The opening or mouth of the infernal caldron was furnished with a net of iron chains. The latter was undoubtedly meant to keep the victim, who was thrown in to be boiled alive, from jumping out. Four large boulders supported the pan, under which a bundle of large logs of kindling wood lay ready. Human bones, bleached and strewn hither and thither over the ground, imparted to the spot the appearance of a charnel house. Finally, in the center of the clearing, rose a colossal statue; it was surmounted with three heads rudely carved with axes and adjusted to the enormous tree-trunk that, though shapeless, was intended to represent a gigantic body. The aspect of the statue was grotesque and repulsive. Riowag made a sign to the four black warriors who carried me to stop and deposit me at the foot of the statue. He thereupon entered the grotto alone while the warriors of the escort called out aloud: "Elwig! Elwig!" "Elwig! Priestess of the underground gods!" "Rejoice, Elwig, we bring you a prisoner for your caldron!" "You will now be able to prophesy to us!" CHAPTER IV. THE PRIESTESS ELWIG. I expected to see some hideous old hag; I was mistaken. Elwig was young, tall and endowed with savage beauty. Her grey eyes, shielded under a pair of naturally reddish eyebrows of the same color as her hair, glistened like the steel of the long knife that she was armed with. Her eagle-beaked nose and high forehead imparted to her an aspect at once savage and imposing. She was clad in a long tunic of a somber hue. Her bare neck and arms were heavily laden with copper necklaces and bracelets, that clinked upon one another as she walked, and upon which she cast coquettish glances as she approached me. On her thick reddish hair, that fell upon and parted on both sides of her shoulders, she wore a scarlet coif that was a ridiculous imitation of the charming headgear used by the women of Gaul. In short, I thought I noticed in the strange creature the evidence of that mixture of puerile pride and vanity so peculiar to barbarous peoples. Standing a few paces from her, Riowag seemed to contemplate the priestess with profound admiration. Despite his black dye and the red tattoo under which his face disappeared, his features seemed to me to betoken a violent love, and his eyes sparkled with joy when, twice in succession, pointing at me, Elwig turned her face to her lover with a smile upon her lips, in token, no doubt, of thankfulness for the offering that he brought her. I also noticed on the bare arms of the infernal priestess two tattoo marks that brought back to my mind some reminiscences of the war we had been waging with the Franks. One of the two marks represented two talons of a bird of prey; the other, a red serpent. With her knife in her hand, Elwig again turned towards me and fastened her large grey eyes upon me with ferocious satisfaction, while the black warriors contemplated her with looks of fear and superstition. "Woman," I said to the priestess, "I came here unarmed, an oak branch in my hand, and bearing a message of peace to the grand chiefs of your hordes.--I was fallen upon and bound fast.--I am in your power--you can kill me--if such be your pleasure--but before you do, have me presented to one of your chiefs.--The interview that I request is of as much importance to the Franks as to the Gauls. It is Victorin himself and his mother Victoria the Great who have sent me hither." "You are sent by Victoria?" cried the priestess with a singular air. "Victoria, who is said to be so very beautiful?" "Yes, I am sent by her who is called the Mother of the Camps." Elwig reflected, and after a long silence she raised her hands over her head, brandished her knife, and pronounced some mysterious words in a voice that sounded at once threatening and inspired. Thereupon she motioned to the black warriors to retire. They all obeyed, walking slowly back towards the thicket that surrounded the clearing. Only Riowag remained a few steps from the priestess. Turning towards him she pointed with an imperious gesture towards the wood in which the other black warriors had disappeared. Seeing that the captain did not obey her summons, she raised her voice, and again pointed to the wood. Riowag then obeyed and left in turn. I remained alone with the priestess. I was left bound, lying at the foot of the statue of the under gods. Elwig squatted down upon her haunches near me and asked: "You were sent by Victoria to speak with the Frankish chiefs?" "I said so before." "You are one of Victoria's officers?" "I am one of her soldiers." "Does she cherish you?" "She is my foster-sister, I am as a brother to her." These words seemed to cause Elwig to reflect anew. She remained silent for a while, and then resumed: "Would Victoria weep over your death?" "As one would weep over the death of a faithful servant." "She surely would give much to save your life?" "Is it ransom you want?" Elwig again relapsed into silence, and resumed with a mixture of embarrassment and cunning that struck me forcibly: "Let Victoria come and ask my brother for your life. He will grant it to her.--But listen, Victoria has a great reputation for beauty; handsome women love to deck themselves with the Gallic jewelry that is so celebrated.--Victoria must have superb ornaments, seeing she is the mother of the chief of your country.--Tell her to cover herself with her richest jewelry; it will please my brother's eyes.--He will be all the more gracious, and will grant your life to her." I immediately surmised the snare that the priestess of hell was laying for me with the clumsy cunning natural to barbarians. Wishing to make certain, I observed without referring to her last words: "It seems that your brother is a powerful chief." "He is more than a chief," Elwig answered proudly; "he is a king." "We also, in the days of our barbarism, had kings. What is your brother's name?" "Neroweg, surnamed the Terrible Eagle." "You carry on your arms two figures, one representing a red serpent, the other the talons of a bird of prey. What do those emblems mean?" "The fathers of our fathers in our royal family have always worn these signs of valor and subtlety. The eagle's talons denote valor; the serpent subtlety. But let us drop my brother," added Elwig with somber impatience. My digression seemed to displease her. "Will you induce Victoria to come here?" "One word more on your royal brother.--Does he not carry on his forehead the identical symbols that you carry on your arms?" "Yes," she replied with increasing impatience. "Yes, my brother carries an eagle's talon over each eye-brow, and the red serpent on a head-band over his forehead. Kings wear a head-band. But we have spoken enough of Neroweg--quite enough--" I thought I noticed on Elwig's features an ill dissembled sentiment of hatred when she pronounced his name. She proceeded: "If you do not wish to die, write to Victoria to come to our camp ornamented with her most precious jewels. She shall repair alone to a place that I shall designate to you--a secluded spot that I know--I shall come for her and shall lead her to my brother to solicit your life from him--" "Victoria to come alone to this camp?--I have come hither, relying upon the sacredness of the truce;--I carried the bough of peace in my hand, and yet one of my companions was killed, another was wounded, and to cap the climax of treachery, I am delivered to you bound hand and foot to be put to death--" "Victoria may bring a small escort with her." "Which would be unquestionably massacred by your men!--The scheme is too transparent!" "You, then, wish to die!" cried the priestess gnashing her teeth in actual or simulated rage, and threatening me with her knife. "The fire will be shortly kindled under the caldron.--I shall have you plunged alive into the magic water, and you shall boil in it until you are dead.--Once more, and for the last time, make your choice.--Either you shall die in tortures, or you will write to Victoria to repair to our camp decked in her richest ornaments!--Choose!" she added with redoubled fury and again threatening me with her knife. "Choose--or you die!" I knew there was no more thievish, covetous or vainglorious race than this breed of Franks. I noticed that Elwig's large grey eyes glistened with cupidity every time she mentioned the magnificent ornaments, that, as she imagined, the Mother of the Camps surely possessed. The ridiculous accoutrement of the priestess; the profusion of valueless gewgaws that she wore with a savage woman's coquetry, in order, no doubt, to appear pleasing to the eye of Riowag, the captain of the black warriors; above all, her persistence in demanding of me that Victoria come to the Frankish camp covered with rich jewels;--everything justified the conclusion that Elwig aimed at drawing my foster-sister into an ambush in order to slay her and rob her of her jewels. The clumsy scheme did not do credit to the ingenuity of the priestess of the nether regions. Nevertheless, her cupidity might be turned to my service. I answered her in a tone of indifference: "Woman, you mean to kill me if I do not induce Victoria to come here? You are free to kill me--boil my flesh and bones--you will thereby lose more than you think for, seeing that you are the sister of Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle, one of the greatest kings of all your hordes!" "What would I lose?--" "Magnificent Gallic ornaments!" "Ornaments!--What ornaments?" cried Elwig doubtfully, although her eyes snapped with greed. "Do you imagine that, in sending her foster-brother to convey a message to the kings of the Franks, Victoria the Great did not prepare, as a pledge of truce, rich presents for the wives and sisters who accompany them, and for those whom they left behind in Germany?" Elwig leaped to her feet with one bound, hurled her knife away, clapped her hands, and emitted loud peals of laughter that sounded like a crazy woman's transports. Thereupon she crouched down again beside me, and said in a voice broken with childish breathlessness: "Presents? You bring presents with you?--Where are they?" "Yes, I bring with me presents fit to dazzle an empress--gold necklaces studded with carbuncles, ear pendants of pearls and rubies, gold bracelets, belts and crowns that are so loaded with precious stones that they glitter in all the colors of the rainbow.--All these masterpieces of our most skilled Gallic goldsmiths I have brought with me for presents.--And seeing that your brother Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle, is the most powerful king of all your hordes, the bulk of all those riches--those bracelets, those necklaces and other jewels--would have fallen to you." Elwig listened to me open-mouthed, her hands clasped together, without endeavoring to hide either the admiration or unbridled greed that the enumeration of such treasures kindled in her breast. Suddenly, however, her features assumed an expression of mingled doubt and anger. She rose, ran to her knife, and returning with it in her hands, raised it over me crying: "You either lie, or you are mocking me!--Where are those treasures?" "In a safe place.--I foresaw that I might be killed and plundered before I was able to fulfil the orders of Victoria and her son." "Where did you put that treasure in safety?" "It remained in the bark that brought me to this side of the river.--My companions rowed back from the shore and cast anchor beyond the reach of the arrows of your hordes." "We also have barks moored at the other end of the camp. I shall order your companions to be pursued--I shall have the treasures!" "You deceive yourself!--As soon as my companions see the enemy's barks approach from a distance, they will suspect foul play. Seeing that they have a long lead, they will be able to regain the opposite shore of the Rhine without any danger whatever.--Such will be the only fruit of the treachery practiced by your people upon me.--Come, woman! Have me boiled for your infernal auguries! Perhaps my bones, bleached in your caldron, may be transformed into magnificent ornaments!" "I want the treasures!" replied Elwig struggling against her lingering suspicions. "Since you did not carry the jewels about you, when would you have given them to the kings of our hordes?" "When I left the jewels in the bark I expected I would be received as an envoy of peace, and that as such I would be escorted back to the river bank. My companions would then have returned to the shore to receive me, and I would have taken the presents out of the bark and distributed them among the kings in the name of Victoria and her son." The priestess looked upon me for a while with darkling eyes. She seemed to yield alternately to mistrust and to the promptings of cupidity. Finally, however, the latter sentiment evidently prevailed. She took a few steps away, and with a strong voice pronounced the bizarre name of a person who was not until then upon the scene. Almost instantly a hideous old hag with grey hair and clad in a blood-bespattered robe issued from the cavern. She was, no doubt, the active priestess at the inhuman sacrifices. She exchanged a few words in a low voice with Elwig and forthwith vanished in the surrounding wood, in the direction that the black warriors had followed. Again dropping on her haunches beside me, the priestess said in a low and muffled voice: "Since you wish to speak with my brother, King Neroweg, I have sent for him.--He will soon be here--but you shall not mention a word to him concerning the jewels." "Why keep him in the dark concerning them?" "Because he would keep them to himself." "What!--He!--Your own brother!--Would he not share the jewels with you, his sister?" A bitter smile contracted Elwig's lips. She resumed: "My brother came near cutting off my arm with a blow of his axe a few weeks ago, simply because I merely wished to touch part of his booty." "Is that the way brothers and sisters behave towards one another among the Franks?" "Among the Franks," Elwig answered with a face of deepening rancor, "the mother, sister and wives of a warrior are his first slaves." "His wives!--Has he, then, several?" "As many as he can capture and feed--the same as he has as many horses as he can buy." "What! Does not a sacred and eternal union join the husband to the mother of his children, as with us Gauls?--What! Sisters, wives and mothers--all are slaves? Blessed of the gods is Gaul, my own country, where our mothers and wives, venerated by all, proudly take their seat in the nation's councils and where their advice, often wiser than that of their husbands and sons, not infrequently prevails." Palpitating with cupidity, Elwig made no answer to me, and resumed the thread of her dominant thoughts. "You will, accordingly, not mention the jewels to Neroweg. He would keep them all for himself. You will wait until it is dark to leave the camp. I shall accompany you. You will give me the jewels, all the presents--to me alone!" And again bursting into almost insane peals of laughter, she added: "Gold bracelets! Necklaces of pearls! Ear pendants studded with rubies! Diadems full of precious stones! I shall look grand as an empress! Oh, how beautiful I shall be in the eye of Riowag!" Elwig thereupon cast disdainful glances at the copper bracelets that she rattled as she shook her arms, and repeated: "I shall look very beautiful to Riowag!" "Woman," I said to her, "your advice is prudent. We shall have to wait until it is night for us to leave the camp together and regain the river bank." And, to the end of still further enlisting Elwig's confidence in me by seeming to take an interest in her vainglorious greed, I added: "But if your brother sees you decked with such magnificent ornaments, will he not take them away from you?" "No," she promptly answered with a strange and sinister look. "No, he will not take them!" "If Neroweg the Terrible Eagle is of as violent a temperament as you claim, if he came near cutting off your arm for having wished merely to touch part of his booty," I suggested, surprised at her answer, and anxious to fathom her thoughts, "what will prevent your brother from seizing the jewels?" Elwig held up to me her large knife with an expression of calm ferocity that made me shiver, as she answered: "When I shall have the treasure--to-night, I shall enter my brother's hut--I shall share his bed, as usual--and when he is asleep I shall kill him--" "Your own brother!" I cried with a shudder and hardly believing what I heard, although the insight that the priestess gave into the shocking immorality prevalent among the Franks was nothing new to me. "How! You share your own brother's bed?" The priestess seemed no wise disconcerted by my question, and answered with a somber mien: "I have shared my brother's bed since the day that he violated me. It is the fate of almost all the sisters of the Frankish kings who follow them in war. Did I not tell you that their wives, their sisters and their mothers are the first slaves of the warriors? What female slave is there who, willingly or unwillingly, does not share her master's bed?" "Hold your tongue, woman!" I cried interrupting her. "Hold your tongue! Your monstrous words might draw a thunderbolt upon our heads!" And without being able to add another word I contemplated the creature with horror. Such a mixture of debauchery, greed, barbarism and, withal, stupid frankness, seeing that Elwig unbosomed herself to me, a man whom she then saw for the first time in her life, upon her fratricidal intentions--that fratricide, preceded by incest, which this priestess of a sanguinary cult was subjected to and who shared her brother's bed while she at the same time surrendered herself to another man--all that filled me with horror, notwithstanding I had often heard accounts of the abominable morals of the barbarians beyond the Rhine. Elwig seemed not to concern herself about the cause of my silence nor of the evident disgust that she filled me with. She mumbled some unintelligible words, and counted the copper bracelets that her arms were loaded with. She presently said to me pensively: "Do you think I shall have nine fine bracelets studded with precious stones to replace these? Could they all go into a little bag that I shall keep concealed under my robe when I return to the hut of the king, my brother? Why do you not answer my questions?" The cold, I should almost say naïve, ferocity of the woman redoubled the disgust that the monster inspired in me. Again I remained silent, and she cried aloud: "Why do you not answer me? You promised me the jewels!" But seeming to be suddenly struck by a new thought she added with terror: "I told him all! Suppose he tells it all again to Neroweg! My brother would kill us both, me and Riowag! The thought of the treasure bereft me of my senses!" And again she started to call, turning her face towards the cavern. A second old hag, no less hideous than the first, hobbled out holding in her hand the bone of an ox from which hung a partly boiled shred of meat at which she gnawed with her toothless gums. "Come quick to me," the priestess said to her, "and leave your bone there." The old hag obeyed unwillingly, grumbling like a dog whose meat is taken away from him. She laid the bone on one of the projecting rocks at the entrance of the grotto, and drew near, wiping her lips. "Gather some dry, good branches and roots of trees and kindle a fire with them under the brass caldron," the priestess said to the old woman. The latter returned into the cavern, and brought out all the things that she was ordered. Soon a bright fire burned under the caldron. "Now," Elwig said to the old woman, pointing her finger at me as I lay stretched out upon the earth at the feet of the statue of the subterranean deity, with my hands pinioned behind my back and my feet bound fast, "kneel down upon him." I could make not the slightest motion. The old hag planted herself on her knees upon my breast-plate, and said to the priestess: "What must I do next?" "Make him put out his tongue." I then understood that, carried away at first by her savage greed into making dangerous confidences to me, Elwig now reproached herself for having heedlessly mentioned her amours and her fratricidal intentions, and could think of no better way to compel my silence on these subjects towards her brother than to cut off my tongue. The project was more easily conceived than it could be executed. I clenched my teeth with all my might. "Tighten your fingers on his throat!" Elwig commanded the hag. "He will then open his mouth and stick his tongue out. I shall then cut it off." With her knees firmly planted upon my cuirass, the hag leaned forward so close to me that her hideous face almost touched mine. I shut my eyes with disgust. Presently I felt the crooked yet nervous fingers of the priestess' assistant tighten at my throat. For a while I struggled against suffocation and did not unlock my teeth; but, as Elwig had foreseen, I soon felt almost smothered and unconsciously opened my mouth. Elwig immediately thrust in her fingers in order to seize my tongue. I bit her so savagely that she withdrew her hand screaming with pain. At that moment I saw the black warriors and Riowag reissue from the wood whither they had withdrawn at the priestess' orders. Riowag approached on a run, but he stopped undecided what to do at the sight of a troop of Franks who arrived from the opposite side and stepped into the clearing. One of these called out in a hoarse and imperious voice: "Elwig! Elwig!" "The king, my brother!" gasped the priestess, who was on her knees beside me. It seemed to me that she looked for the knife that she had dropped during her struggle with me. "Fear not! I shall be dumb. You shall have the treasure all for yourself," I whispered to Elwig, fearing lest, in her terror, the woman plunge the knife into my throat. I sought to secure her support at all hazard, and to contrive a means of escape by inciting her cupidity. Whether Elwig trusted my word, or whether her brother's presence stayed her hand, she cast a significant glance at me, and remained on her knees at my side, with her head drooping upon her chest as if absorbed in revery. The old hag having risen to her feet, my breast-plate was relieved of her weight; I could again breathe freely; and I saw the Terrible Eagle standing before me, escorted by several other Frankish kings, as the chiefs of those marauding hordes styled themselves. CHAPTER V. NEROWEG THE TERRIBLE EAGLE. The Frankish chief who stood before me was a man of colossal stature. Due to the use of lime-water, his beard as well as his greasy hair, that rose in a knot over his forehead, had turned coppery red. His hair, tied with a leather thong on the top of his head, fell behind his shoulders like the flowing crest of a casque. Above each of his bushy red eyebrows I saw an eagle's talon tattooed in blue, while another scarlet tattoo mark, representing the undulations of a serpent, spanned his forehead. His left cheek was also ornamented with a red and blue tattoo that consisted of transverse rays. On his right cheek, however, the savage ornament disappeared almost wholly in the cavity of a deep scar that began below the eye and was finally lost under his shaggy beard. Heavy and coarsely-wrought gold medals, that hung from and distended his ears, dropped upon his shoulders. A heavy silver chain, wound three times around his neck, reached down to his semi-bare breast. Above his cloth tunic he wore a jacket of some animal's hide. His hose, of the same quality and as soiled as his tunic, were fastened by a leather belt from which, on one side, hung a long sword, on the other an axe of sharp stone. Wide strips of tanned skin criss-crossed upward over his hose, from the ankle to the knees. He leaned upon a short pike that ended in a sharp point. The other kings who accompanied Neroweg were tattooed, clad and armed more or less after the same fashion. The features of all bore the stamp of savage gravity. Elwig, who remained on her knees at my side, sought to conceal her face from Neroweg. He rudely touched his sister's shoulder with the point of his pike, and addressed her harshly: "Why did you send for me before boiling the Gallic dog for your auguries? My flayers have promised me his skin." "The hour is not favorable," answered the priestess abruptly with a mysterious air. "The hour of night--of dark night is preferable to sacrifice to the gods of the nether world. The Gaul, moreover, says, oh mighty king, that he has a message from Victoria and her son." Neroweg drew nearer and looked at me. At first his mien was one of disdainful indifference; presently, however, as he examined me more attentively, his features assumed an expression of hatred and of triumphant rage; at last he cried as if he could not believe his own eyes: "It is he! He is the horseman of the bay steed! It is himself!" "Do you know him?" Elwig asked her brother. "Do you know this prisoner?" "Off with you!" was Neroweg's brusque answer. "Get you gone!" He then proceeded to contemplate me with renewed interest and repeated: "Yes, it is he; the horseman of the bay steed!" "Did you ever meet him in battle?" again asked Elwig. "Answer me. Do answer me!" "Will you be gone!" repeated Neroweg now raising his pike over the head of the priestess. "I told you before, be gone!" My eyes at that moment caught sight of the group of black warriors. I saw that their captain Riowag could hardly be restrained by his men from drawing his sword, and revenging the insult offered to Elwig by Neroweg. But so far from obeying her brother, and no doubt fearing that in her absence I might reveal to the Terrible Eagle both her own fratricidal projects and the secret of Victoria's presents which she coveted, Elwig cried: "No! No! I remain here! The prisoner belongs to me for my auguries. I shall not go away. I shall keep him--" The only answer that Neroweg vouchsafed his sister were several blows with the handle of his pike, delivered over her back. He thereupon made a sign, and several of the warriors who accompanied him violently drove the priestess, together with the haggish old assistant, back into the cavern at the mouth of which they posted themselves on guard, sword in hand. The black warriors who surrounded Riowag were put to their mettle in order to prevent their captain from precipitating himself with drawn sword upon the Terrible Eagle. The latter, thinking only of me, failed to notice the fury of his rival, and addressed me in a voice trembling with rage, while he kicked me with his feet: "Do you recognize me, dog?" "I recognize you, rapacious wolf." "This wound," resumed Neroweg carrying his finger to the deep scar that furrowed his cheek, "do you know who made this wound?" "Yes, it is my handiwork. I fought you as a soldier." "You lie! You fought me like a coward! You were two against one!" "You were making a furious onset on the son of Victoria the Great. He was wounded--his hand could hardly hold his sword--I dashed to his help--and struck in Gallic fashion." "You marked my face with your Gallic sword--dog!" Saying this Neroweg struck me repeatedly with the handle of his pike, to the great amusement of the other kings. I remembered my ancestor Guilhern, chained like a slave and supporting with dignity the cruel treatment of the Romans after the battle of Vannes. I emulated his example. I merely said to Neroweg: "You are striking an unarmed soldier who is bound fast and who, relying upon the truce, came to you on an errand of peace--that is a coward's act. You would not dare to raise your stick at me if I stood on my feet and sword in hand." The Frankish chief laughed, struck me again and said: "He is a fool who, able to kill his enemy disarmed, does not exterminate him. I would like to kill you twice over. You are doubly my enemy. I hate you because you are a Gaul, I hate you because your race holds Gaul, the country of sunshine, of good wine and beautiful women; then also I hate you because you marked my face with a wound that is my eternal shame. I shall therefore make you suffer so much that your pain will be equal to two deaths, a thousand deaths, if I only could--you Gallic dog!" "The Gallic dog is a noble animal for war and for the hunt," I replied to him; "the Frankish wolf, however, is an animal of rapine and carnage. But it will not be long before the brave Gallic dogs will have chased from their frontiers this pack of voracious wolves that have come prowling from the northern forests. Be careful! If you refuse to listen to the message that I have for you from Victoria and her valiant son--be careful! Our army is numerous. It will be a war to the death that will be waged between the Gallic dog and the Frankish wolf--a war of extermination--and the Frankish wolf will be devoured by the Gallic dog." Grinding his teeth with rage, Neroweg seized the axe that hung from his belt, and raising it in both hands was about to let it come crashing down upon my head. I believed my last hour had come, but two of the other kings held the arm of Elwig's brother, into whose ears they whispered a few words that seemed to calm him. He held a short conference with his companions and returned to me: "What is the message that you bring from Victoria for the Frankish kings?" "The messenger of Victorin and Victoria can only speak on his feet, unfettered, his head high--not stretched down on the ground, and bound fast like the ox that expects the butcher's knife. Order my bonds to be removed, and I shall speak--if not, not. You have heard me, brute that you are!" "Speak on the spot--unconditionally, you Gallic dog!--or tremble before my anger!" "No; I shall not speak!" "I shall know how to make you speak!" "Try it! You will find me unshakeable!" Neroweg ordered one of the other kings to fetch a firebrand from under the brass caldron. I was held down by the shoulders and feet, so as to prevent me from making the slightest motion, while the Terrible Eagle placed the firebrand upon my iron cuirass and heaped up others about it. The brasier that he thus built upon my body seemed to amuse him greatly. He laughed out aloud and said to me: "You shall speak, or be broiled like a tortoise in its shell." The iron of my cuirass soon began to heat under the coals which two of the Frankish kings kept alive by blowing upon them. I suffered greatly and cried: "Oh! Neroweg! Neroweg! Cowardly assassin! I would gladly endure these tortures, if I only could see myself once more sword in hand before you, and put my mark upon your other cheek. Oh! You have said it--there is room only for hatred and death between our two races!" "What is Victoria's message?" the Terrible Eagle asked again. I remained silent, despite the intense pain that I suffered. The iron of my cuirass was growing hot all around. "Will you speak?" the Frankish chief cried anew, evidently astonished at my resistance. "Victoria's messenger speaks erect and free," I answered. "If not, not!" Whether the Frankish chief considered it desirable to know the message that I brought, or whether he only yielded to the suggestions of his companions, who were less ferocious than himself, one of them unbuckled my casque, raised it off my head, took it to the stream that rippled down the rocks at the mouth of the cavern, filled it and poured the cold water upon my heated cuirass. By degrees it cooled off. "Free him of his bonds," said Neroweg, "but surround him; and let him instantly fall under your blows should he try to escape." I slowly regained my strength while I was being unbound; the torture I had just undergone almost caused me to faint. I drank some of the water that remained in my casque, and stood up in the midst of the kings, who surrounded me so as to cut off my retreat. "Give us now your message," said Neroweg. "A truce has been concluded between our two armies," I proceeded. "Victoria and her son send to tell you: Since you issued from your northern forests you have taken possession of the whole territory of Germany on the right bank of the Rhine. That soil is as fertile as Gaul's. Before your invasion it produced an abundance of everything. Your acts of violence and cruelty have driven almost all its inhabitants to flight. The soil, nevertheless, remains, ready and willing for the husbandman. Why do you not cultivate it, instead of waging incessant war against us and living on rapine? Is it the love for war that sways you? We Gauls, better than anyone else, understand and appreciate the love for martial display. We appreciate it, and make this proposition to you. At each new moon, send one or two thousand of your picked warriors to one of the large islands in the Rhine, which is our joint frontier. We shall expedite thither an equal number of our warriors. The two sets will be free to fight it out at their heart's content. But then, at least, you Franks, on one side of the river, and we Gauls on the other shall be able to cultivate our respective fields in peace, we shall be able to work, to manufacture and to enrich our countries, without being forever compelled to keep an eye upon the frontier, and a sword hanging from the plow handle. If you refuse our proposition we shall then wage a war of extermination against you, drive you from our frontiers, and chase you back into your forests. When two nations are separated only by a river they should be friends, or one of the two must destroy the other. Choose! I await your answer." Neroweg consulted with several of the kings who stood near him, and presently answered me with marked insolence: "The Frank is not one of those races, like the Gallic, who work by cultivating the soil. The Frank loves war; but above all he loves the warmth of the sun, good wine, fine weapons, brilliant clothes, gold and silver goblets, rich necklaces, large and well built cities, superb palaces after the fashion of the Romans, the beautiful Gallic women, industrious slaves who mind the whip and work for their masters while these drink, sing, sleep and make love or war. In their gloomy country of the north, however, the Franks find neither sunshine nor good wine, nor fine weapons, nor brilliant clothes, nor gold and silver goblets, nor large and well built cities, nor superb palaces, nor beautiful Gallic women--all these things are to be found among you, Gallic dogs! We purpose and mean to take all that from you--we purpose and mean to establish ourselves in your fertile country, and enjoy all the good things that it contains, while the males of you will work for us under the whip and the sharp sword that we shall hold over you, and the females--your wives, sisters and daughters--will lie in our beds, will weave our shirts and will wash our clothes. Do you understand, Gallic dog?" The other kings applauded Neroweg and accentuated their approval with loud laughter and clatter of arms, joined to cries of: "Yes--that is what we want--do you understand, Gallic dog?" "I understand," I replied, unable to refrain from indulging in raillery against such savage insolence. "I understand that you wish to conquer and subjugate us as did the Romans for a time, after our own race dominated and conquered the whole world for centuries in succession. But you who so much love the sunshine, the goods, the country and the women of other peoples, you seem to forget that, despite the universal power that they acquired and despite their innumerable armies, even the Romans were compelled to return to us one by one the rights that we enjoyed, so that, at this hour, the Romans are no longer our conquerors, but our allies. Now, then, seeing that you so much love the sunshine, the country, the goods and wives of others, listen to my words: We, the Gauls, alone and unaided by the Romans, will chase you from our frontiers, or we shall exterminate you to the last man if you persist in being bad neighbors and in proposing to plunder us of our old Gaul." "Yes, we are plunderers!" cried Neroweg. "And, by the snows of Germany we shall plunder you of your old Gaul! Our army is four times as large as yours; you have your palaces, your cities, your wealth, your women, your sun, your fertile earth to defend--we have nothing to defend and everything to gain. We camp in our huts and sleep on the backs of our horses; our only wealth is our sword; we have nothing to lose, everything to gain. And we will gain everything, and we will subjugate your race, you Gallic dog! It will be the end of Gaul!" "Go and ask the Romans, whose army was even larger than yours, how many foreign cohorts the sod of old Gaul has devoured! Even the greatest battles that they, the conquerors of the world delivered, did not cost them one-quarter the number of soldiers that our fathers, as insurgent slaves, exterminated with their scythes and forks. Take care! Strong and sharp is the sword of the Gallic soldier; trenchant is the scythe, heavy the fork of the Gallic husbandman in the defense of hearth, family and freedom! Take care! If you persist in remaining bad neighbors, the Gallic scythe and fork will be enough to drive you back into your snow-bound wilderness, ye people of sloth, of rapine and of carnage, who desire to enjoy the fruits of the labors of others, who covet their soil, their wives and their sunshine, and strive after these by means of theft and massacre!" "Dare you, Gallic dog, hold such language to us!" cried Neroweg grinding his teeth. "You, a prisoner! You, under the points of our swords! under the edge of the Frankish battle axe!" "The moment seems to me opportune to say the truth to the enemies of Gaul!" "And I think the moment is opportune to put you through a thousand deaths!" cried the Frankish king in a passion as towering as that of his fellows. "Yes, you shall undergo a thousand deaths--and after that, my sole answer to the audacious message of your Victoria will be to return your head to her with the announcement in the name of Neroweg the Terrible Eagle, that, before the sun shall have risen six times, I shall capture herself in the midst of her own camp, shall take her to my bed, and shall then pass her over to my men, that they may, in turn, enjoy Victoria, the proud Gallic woman!" I lost all control over myself at the ribald and ferocious insolence flung at the woman whom I venerated above all others. I was unarmed, but I picked up one of the now extinguished firebrands that lay at my feet and which the Franks had used to torture me with; I seized the heavy log, and swift as lightning struck Neroweg so sound a blow with it over his head that he reeled back, stumbled and fell to the ground unconscious. Ten swords struck me almost simultaneously. But my casque and cuirass protected me. In their blind rage the Frankish chiefs struck at random, and cried: "Death! Death to the dog of a Gaul!" Only Riowag, the captain of the black warriors, did not join in the attempt to avenge upon my person the blow I dealt to his rival, Neroweg. On the contrary, he profited by the tumult to enter the cavern into which Elwig had been driven back, the entrance of which was now left free, seeing that the two kings, who, sword in hand, mounted guard before it, rushed to the assistance of the Terrible Eagle, who lay prostrate at a distance from them. Immediately after Riowag entered the grotto, the priestess and her two assistant hags rushed out. With streaming hair, haggard looks, and hands raised heavenward they cried: "The hour has come--the sun is setting--night approaches--death, death to the Gaul! He struck the Terrible Eagle--death, death to the Gaul! Bind him fast. We shall consult the subterranean gods in the magic water in which he is to boil!" "Yes--death!" cried the Franks rushing upon me and binding me fast again. "He shall die under a prolonged agony! Death to the dog of a Gaul!" "We are the priestesses of the sacrifice!" Elwig and the two hags protested in chorus, while they redoubled their bizarre contortions that by degrees imposed the Frankish warriors with terror. "Oh! you who struck my brother, the blood of my blood," Elwig screamed, writhing her arms, and howling furiously she threw herself upon me in a real or feigned transport of rage; "the gods of the nether world have delivered you into my hands! Come--come--let us drag him into the cavern," she added addressing the old hags, "we must season him for his death with the proper tortures. Vengeance! Let our vengeance be merciless!" The confusion into which the Franks were thrown by the blow that I dealt Neroweg kept them from interfering with Elwig and her two female assistants. Several of the kings even joined her in dragging me into the cavern, while the others were hurrying hither and thither or gathered anxiously around the Terrible Eagle who lay prone upon the ground, pale, motionless and his head bleeding. "Our grand chief is not dead," said some; "his hands are warm and his heart beats." "Let us transport him to his hut." "If he die we shall draw lots for his five black horses, his fine Gallic sword with the gold handle, and also for his necklace and silver bracelets." "The horses and arms of Neroweg belong to the oldest chief!" cried one of those who were holding up the head of the Terrible Eagle. "I am the oldest. To me belong both horses and arms! To me also his tent and chariots! To me his gold necklaces and silver bracelets!" "You lie!" came from one of the chiefs at the feet of Neroweg. "His horses, his tent and his arms belong to me as his war companion." "No!" cried the others. "No! Everything that belongs to Neroweg must be drawn lots for." From the threshold of the cavern where I then was, I could see and hear the dispute wax hot and the swords glisten, while Neroweg, who still remained unconscious, was almost trampled under the feet of the enraged disputants, as they leaped over his body to get at closer quarters with one another. The conflict threatened to take a bloody turn when, leaving me where I was, Elwig threw herself between the combatants, whom she sought to separate, and shouted aloud: "Shame and ill luck to those who contend over the spoils of a king who is neither dead nor revenged! Shame and ill luck to those who contend over the spoils of a brother before the very eyes of his sister! Shame and ill luck to the impious men who disturb the quiet of a place that is consecrated to the gods of the nether world!" And with an inspired and dreadful mien, the priestess drew herself to her full length, and throwing up her clenched fists above her head, cried: "My two hands are full of fearful misfortunes. Tremble!" At these threats, the frightened barbarians involuntarily lowered their heads, as if afraid of being struck with the mysterious ills that the priestess held in her closed hands. They put their swords back into their scabbards. Profound silence ensued. "Carry the Terrible Eagle to his hut!" Elwig thereupon commanded. "The sister will accompany her wounded brother. The Gallic prisoner will be watched by Map and Mob who assist me at the sacrifices. Two of you will remain at the mouth of the cavern, with your swords in your hands. Night is drawing near. Elwig will presently return with Neroweg. The execution of the prisoner will then begin, and I shall consult the auguries in the magic waters in which he is to boil until death supervenes!" My last hope was dashed. In contemplating to return with her brother, Elwig must have doubtlessly renounced the project that her greed had caused her to hatch. I had pinned my safety on that project. I was bound firmly, hands and feet. My arms were pinioned behind my back; a belt was strapped around my legs. I could hardly move a step. I slowly followed the two hags into the grotto, at the entrance of which several of the kings posted themselves, sword in hand. The deeper I penetrated the cave, all the darker it grew. After having proceeded a little way, one of the two hags said to me: "You may lie down on the ground if you wish; the sun has gone down. While waiting for Elwig's return, my companion and I shall keep the fire alive under the caldron." Saying this both the hags left me. I remained alone. CHAPTER VI. THE FLIGHT. From the solitude and darkness in which I was left at the departure of Elwig's sacrificial assistants, I could see the mouth of the cavern at some distance. The opening grew darker and darker as dusk yielded to night. Presently the gloom became complete, relieved only, from time to time, by the flickering light that the flames of the fire, kept alive under the huge brass caldron by the two hags, occasionally cast upon the grotto's mouth. I tried to snap my bonds. With my hands and feet free, I would have endeavored to disarm one of the Franks who guarded the issue, and, sword in hand, and protected by the darkness of the night, I would have reached the river bank guided by the sound of the rushing waves. Perhaps and notwithstanding the orders I gave him, Douarnek might not yet have rowed back to camp. But all my efforts proved futile against the bow-strings and the belt that held me fast. A muffled but increasing rumbling of feet and voices began to announce to me the arrival and assembling of a large number of people in the neighborhood of the cave. They must he doubtlessly gathering to witness my execution and listen to the auguries of the priestess. I believed there was nothing left to me but to resign myself to my fate. I turned my last thoughts to my wife and child. Suddenly, from the thickest of the surrounding darkness I heard the voice of Elwig two steps behind me. I started with surprise. I was certain she did not enter by the mouth of the cavern. "Follow me," she said. At the same moment her feverish hand seized mine and held it firmly. "How came you here?" I asked her stupefied, with hope re-rising in my breast, and endeavoring to walk. "The cavern has two issues," Elwig answered. "One of them is secret and known to me only. It is by that entrance that I came in, while the kings are waiting for me at the other entrance near the caldron. Come! Come! Take me to the bark where the treasure lies, where you left the necklaces, bracelets, diadems and other jewels!" "My legs are tied," I said. "I can hardly put one foot before the other." Elwig did not answer, but I could feel that she was cutting with her knife the leather strap and the bow-strings that bound my arms and legs. I was free! "And your brother," I inquired, following close upon her footsteps, "has he regained consciousness?" "Neroweg is still dazed, like a bull whom the butcher did not kill outright. He awaits in his hut the hour of your execution. I am to notify him in time. He wishes to see you suffer and die. Come, come!" "The darkness is so intense that I can not see before me." "Give me your hand." "Should your brother tire of waiting," I observed as she almost dragged me along through the windings of the secret issue, "and should he enter the sacred wood with the other chieftains and not find either you or me in the cavern, what will happen? Will they not immediately start in pursuit of us?" "Only I know this secret issue. When they miss both you and me from the cave, my brother and the chiefs will believe that I made you descend to the gods of the nether world. They will be all the more afraid of me. Come! Come quick!" While Elwig thus spoke I was following her through so narrow a passage that I felt myself grazing the rocks on either side. The passage seemed at first to dip down towards the bowels of the earth, but presently its ascent became so steep and difficult for my legs, still numb from their recent ligatures, that it was with difficulty I kept step with the hurrying priestess. We had been for some time in the maze of the underground cave when at last I felt the fresh air strike my face. I imagined we were about to step into the open. "To-night, after I shall have killed my brother in revenge for his outrages upon me," Elwig explained to me in abrupt words, "I shall flee with a king whom I love. He is waiting for us outside. He is strong, brave and well armed. He will accompany us to your bark. If you deceived me, Riowag will kill you--do you hear me, Gaul? You will fall under his axe." I was little affected by the threat--my hands were free--my only uneasiness was whether Douarnek and the bark still waited for me. A moment later we issued out of the cavern. The stars shone so brilliant in the sky that once out of the wood in which we still were, I was certain I would be able to see my way before me. The priestess stopped for a moment and called: "Riowag!" "Riowag is here," answered a voice so close to me that I realized the chief of the black warriors was near enough to be able to touch me. Nevertheless, it was in vain that I sought to distinguish his black shape in the dark. It became clearer to me than ever before how, by rendering themselves undistinguishable in the dark, these men could not choose but be dangerous foes in a night assault or ambuscade. "Is it far from here to the river bank?" I asked Riowag. "You must know the spot where I landed; you were the chief of the band that greeted me with a volley of arrows." "No, we have not far to go," Riowag answered. "Shall we have to cross the camp?" I inquired, perceiving the lights of the Frankish encampment at a little distance. Neither of my two guides made any answer. They exchanged a few words in a low voice, each took me by an arm, and they struck into a path that led away from the camp. Soon the roar of the rushing waters of the Rhine reached our ears. We drew rapidly near the shore. Finally from the height of the embankment on which we stood, I could distinguish a bluish sheet of water across the darkness--it was the river! "We shall now ascend the beach about two hundred feet," said Riowag; "we shall then be at the spot where you reached land under our arrows. Your bark must be only a little distance from there. If you deceived us your blood will redden the beach, and the waters of the Rhine will wash away your corpse." "Can we call out from the bank without being heard by the outposts of the camp?" I asked the Frank. "The wind blows off shore," Riowag answered with the sagacity of a savage. "You can freely raise your voice and call; you will not be heard at the camp, and your voice will surely travel to the middle of the stream." Riowag walked a few steps further and then stopped. "It is here," he said, "where you reached land; your bark must be anchored near by. I am a professional night warrior, and am able to see through the dark, but I can not distinguish your bark." "Oh! You deceived us! You deceived us!" murmured Elwig in a subdued voice. "You will die for it!" "It may be," I observed, "that, after having waited for me in vain, the bark may have just left its anchorage. The wind will carry my voice far; I shall call." Saying this I raised our battle cry of rally, well known to Douarnek. Only the sound of the waves made answer. Doubtlessly Douarnek had followed my orders and rowed back to camp at sunset. I uttered our war cry a second time and louder than the first. Again the only response was the rushing of the waves. Meaning to gain time and prepare myself for defense, I said to Elwig: "The wind blows off shore; it carries my voice to the river; but it blows back the voices that may have answered my signal. Let us listen!" While I spoke I strained my eyes to peer through the dark and discover the weapons that Riowag was armed with. In his belt he carried a dagger; in his hand his short, broad sword. Although he and his beloved were close to me, one on each side, I could elude them with a bound, plunge into the river, and escape by swimming. I was watching for my opportunity when suddenly the distant and rhythmic sound of oars reached my ears. My call was heard by Douarnek. In the measure that the decisive instant approached, the suspense and uneasiness of Elwig and her companion increased. To kill me would be to renounce the possession of the treasure, which, I had clearly told them, my soldiers would deliver only at my orders. But again, to allow the latter to disembark would be to furnish me with auxiliaries and render mine the stronger side. Elwig no doubt began to realize that her greed had carried her too far. Seeing the bark draw nearer she said to me in great excitement: "The sacredness of the Gallic word is proverbial. You owe your life to me. I hope you did not deceive me with a false promise." That priestess of the nether world, the incestuous and blood-thirsty monster, who had meant to cut out my tongue in order to make sure of my silence, and who calmly contemplated adding fratricide to her other crimes, had saved my life moved thereto only by base greed. Nevertheless, I could not remain insensible to her appeal to Gallic faith. I almost regretted the lie I had uttered, however excusable it might be in view of the treachery that the Frankish warriors had practiced towards me. At that critical moment I was, however, bound to consider my own safety only. I jumped at Riowag, and after a violent struggle in which Elwig did not venture to take a hand, out of fear that she might wound her lover while seeking to strike me, I succeeded in disarming the warrior. Soon as that was done I threw myself into a posture of defense with the sword in my hand and cried: "No, I have no treasure for you, Elwig, but if you fear to return to your brother, follow me. Victoria will treat you kindly; you will not be a prisoner; I give you my word; you may rely upon the faith of a Gaul." Both the priestess and Riowag refused to listen; breaking out into wild imprecations they made a furious rush at me. In the tussle that ensued I killed the black warrior at the moment when he sought to stab me with his dagger, and I was wounded in the hand in the attempt to wrench the knife from Elwig's grasp. I had just succeeded and thrown the weapon into the water when, attracted by the noise of the struggle, Douarnek and one of the soldiers leaped upon the shore to hasten to my help. "Schanvoch," Douarnek said quickly to me, "we did not follow your orders and row back at sunset. We remained at our anchorage, resolved to wait for you until morning. But thinking that you might issue at some other spot than where you landed, we rowed up and down along the shore. When we saw you this morning surrounded by those black devils, our first impulse was to row straight to the bank and suffer death beside you. But I recalled your orders, and we considered that for us to be killed was to cut off your retreat. But here you are, hale and sound. Now take my advice and let us return quickly to camp. These skinners of human bodies are ill neighbors to dwell among." While Douarnek was speaking to me, Elwig threw herself upon the corpse of Riowag and rent the air with roars of rage interspersed with sobs. However detestable the creature was, her paroxysm of grief touched my heart. I was about to address her when Douarnek cried: "Schanvoch, look at the torches approaching yonder!" Saying this Douarnek pointed in the direction of the Frankish camp. Luminous streaks were seen rapidly approaching through the dark. "Your flight has been discovered, Elwig," I said to her, and sought to tear her from her lover's corpse, which she held clasped in a close embrace and over which she moaned piteously. "Your brother has started in your pursuit--you have not a minute to lose--come!--come!--or you are lost!" "Schanvoch," Douarnek said to me as I vainly sought to drag away Elwig, who seemed not to hear me and sobbed aloud, "the torches are carried by armed horsemen! Listen to the clanging of their weapons! Listen to the tramp of their horses! They cannot be further than six bow shots! I beached the bark in order to reach you all the quicker! We shall have barely time to put it afloat! Would you have us all killed? If that is your purpose, say so, and we shall die like brave men; but if you mean to flee, it is high time that you move!" "It is your brother! It is death that is approaching!" I once more cried to Elwig, whom I could not bring myself to abandon without one more effort to save her. After all, she did save my life. A minute later and she would be lost. Seeing, however, that the priestess did not answer me, I cried to Douarnek: "Give me a hand--let us take her away by force!" It was impossible to tear Elwig from the corpse of Riowag; she held it in a convulsive embrace; the only alternative left was to carry off both bodies. We tried it, but soon gave up the attempt. In the meantime the Frankish horsemen were approaching so rapidly that the light of their resinous torches projected itself as far as the beach. It was too late to save Elwig. Our bark was with difficulty pushed off; I took the rudder; Douarnek and the two remaining soldiers bent vigorously to their oars. We were still within easy bowshot from the shore when, by the light of the torches that the troops carried, we saw the first hurrying Frankish horsemen ride up. At their head I recognized Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle, distinguishable by his colossal stature. He was closely followed by several other horsemen, all shouting with concentrated rage. Neroweg drove his horse up to the animal's neck into the river. His companions did the same, while they brandished their long lances with one hand and with the other their torches, whose ruddy reflections lighted far the waters of the river and fell upon our swiftly speeding bark. Seated near the rudder, my back was turned to the bank and I remarked sadly to Douarnek: "The miserable creature is killed by this time." And propelled by the three vigorous oarsmen, our bark shot through the water. "Is that a man, a woman, or a demon that is following us?" cried Douarnek a moment later, dropping his oar and rising on his feet in order to look at the track that our bark left behind, and that was lighted by the glimmer of the distant torches that the Frankish horsemen continued to brandish even after they gave up the pursuit. I also rose to my feet and looked in the same direction. A second later I cried: "Stop! Do not row! It is she! It is Elwig! Douarnek, hand me an oar! I shall reach it to her! She seems to be exhausted!" So said, so done. Fleeing from her brother and certain death, the priestess had thrown herself into the water and must have swam after us with extraordinary vigor. She seized the extremity of the oar with a convulsive grasp; two strokes of the oars backed the bark to her; and aided by one of the soldiers I was able to draw Elwig on board. "Blessed be the gods!" I cried. "I would always have reproached myself for your death." The priestess made no answer; she let herself down on the bench of one of the oarsmen, and shrinking into a heap with her face between her knees, remained ominously silent. The oarsmen rowed vigorously on, and from time to time I looked back at the receding river bank. The torches of the Frankish horsemen glimmered fitfully, luminous spots through the haze of the night and the vapors that rose from the river. The end of our passage drew near; we began to distinguish the lights of our own encampment on the opposite bank. Several times I addressed Elwig, but received no answer. I threw over her shoulders and her clothes, wet with the chilly waters of the Rhine, the thick night cloak of one of the soldiers. In doing this I touched one of her arms; it was feverishly warm. A stranger to all that happened in the bark, the woman did not emerge from her savage silence. As I jumped ashore I said to Neroweg's sister: "I shall take you to-morrow to Victoria. Until then I tender you the hospitality of my house. My wife and her sister will treat you like a friend." She made me a sign to lead the way, and she followed. Douarnek then approached me and said in a low voice: "If you take my advice, Schanvoch, after the she-devil, who I know not for what reason swam after you, has dried and warmed herself at your hearth, you will lock her up safely until morning. She might otherwise strangle your wife and child during the night. There is nothing more wily and ferocious than these Frankish women." "It will be a wise precaution to take," I answered Douarnek. And accompanied by Elwig, who, somber and silent, followed me like a specter, I proceeded homeward. CHAPTER VII. SHADOWS ACROSS THE PATH. The night was far advanced. I had reached within a few steps from my house when I saw through the dark a man crouching on the sill of one of the windows. He seemed to be peeping through the shutters. I gave a start. It was the window of my wife's room. I seized Elwig's arm and said to her in a low voice: "Do not budge--wait--" She stopped and stood motionless. Controlling my emotion I advanced cautiously, seeking to avoid making the sand crunch under my feet. I failed. My steps were heard; the man jumped down from the window sill and fled. I rushed after him. Thinking that I meant to leave her in the lurch, Elwig ran after me, overtook me and seized me by the arm, crying with terror: "If I am found alone in the Gallic camp I shall be killed!" Despite all I could do, I could not disengage myself of Elwig's hold until after the man had vanished from sight. He had too long a lead and the night was too dark for me to endeavor to catch him. Surprised and uneasy at the incident, I retraced my steps, and knocked at the door of my house. I could hear from within the voices of my wife and her sister, who seemed uneasy at my prolonged absence. Although they knew not that I had gone to the Frankish camp, they had not yet retired. "It is I!" I cried to them. "It is I, Schanvoch!" The door was no sooner opened than my wife, seeing me by the light that Sampso held in her hand, threw herself into my arms, saying in a tone of sweet and tender reproach: "At last you are back! We began to feel alarmed about you, seeing you were gone since early morning." "And we, who counted upon you for our little feast," put in Sampso; "but I suppose you met with old comrades in arms, and time passed quickly in their company." "Yes, I suppose the conversation was strung out over battles," added Ellen still hanging on my neck, "and my dear Schanvoch forgot his wife, just a little--" Ellen was interrupted by a cry from Sampso. She did not at first notice Elwig, who had remained in shadow near the door. At the sight, however, of the savage creature--pale, sinister and motionless--my wife's sister could not repress her surprise and involuntary fear. Ellen quickly stepped back, noticed the presence of the priestess, and gazing at me as much surprised as her sister, said: "Schanvoch, who is that woman?" "Why, sister," cried Sampso forgetting the presence of Elwig and looking at me more closely, "look, the sleeves of Schanvoch's blouse are red with blood--he is wounded!" My wife grew pale, stepped quickly back to me and anxiously scanned my face. "Calm yourself," I answered; "my wounds are slight. I concealed from you both the mission on which I was bound. I went to the camp of the Franks, our savage foes. I carried a message from Victoria." "To the camp of the Franks!" Ellen and Sampso cried terrified. "That meant death!" "And this is the being who saved my life," I said to my wife, pointing at Elwig, who stood motionless at the door. "I must bespeak the attention of you both in her behalf until to-morrow." When they learned that I owed my life to the Frankish woman my wife and her sister hastened toward Elwig, moved by a simultaneous impulse of gratitude; but they almost immediately stopped short, intimidated and even frightened by the sinister and impassive countenance of Elwig, the priestess, who seemed not to see them, and whose mind probably hovered over scenes far away. "Give her some dry clothes, those that she has on are wet," I said to my wife and her sister. "She does not understand Gallic; your thanks will be lost upon her." "Had she not saved your life," Ellen said to me, "I would think the woman's face looks somber and threatening." "She is a savage like the rest of her people. Get her some dry clothes, and I shall take her to the little side room, where I shall lock her up as a matter of precaution." Sampso went into a contiguous room to fetch a tunic and mantle for Elwig, while I said to my wife: "Did you hear any noise at the window of your room to-night, shortly before I came in?" "None whatever--neither did Sampso; she did not leave me since evening; we both felt uneasy at your absence. But why do you ask?" I did not then answer my wife, seeing that Sampso at that moment returned with the clothes that she had gone after. I took them, passed them over to Elwig and said to her: "My wife and her sister offer you these clothes. Yours are wet. Is there anything else that you wish? Are you hungry, or thirsty? What would you have?" "I want solitude," was Elwig's answer, rejecting the proffered clothes with a gesture; "I want the black night. Only that will suit me at present." "Very well--follow me," I said to her. Leading the way, I opened the door of a little chamber, and raising the lamp in order to light its interior, I said to the priestess: "You see yonder couch--rest yourself, and may the gods render peaceful to you the night that you are to pass under my roof." Elwig made no answer; she threw herself upon the couch and covered her face with her hands. "And now," I said to my wife as I closed and locked the door, "these duties of hospitality being attended to, I burn with the desire to embrace my little Alguen." I found you, my child, sleeping peacefully in your cradle. I covered you with kisses, that were all the sweeter to me seeing I had that very day feared never to see you again. Your mother and her sister examined and bandaged my wounds. They were slight. While Ellen and Sampso were attending to me, I spoke to them of the man whom I had caught sight of on the window sill, and who seemed to be peeping through the shutters. They were greatly astonished at my words; they had heard no sound; they had been together since evening. While talking over the matter, Ellen said to me: "Did you hear the news?" "No." "Tetrik, the Governor of Gascony and relative of Victoria, arrived this evening. The Mother of the Camps rode out on horseback to meet him. We saw him go by." "And did Victorin accompany his mother?" "He rode beside her. That must be the reason that we did not see him during the day." The arrival of Tetrik gave me food for reflection. Sampso left me alone with Ellen. It was late. Early the next morning I was to report to Victoria and her son the result of my mission to the camp of the Franks. CHAPTER VIII. CAPTAIN MARION. Early in the morning I repaired to Victoria's residence. The humble house of the Mother of the Camps was reached through a long narrow path, skirted on either side by high ramparts that constituted the outer fortifications of one of the gates of Mayence. I was about twenty paces from the house when I heard behind me the following cries uttered in terror: "Save yourself! Save yourself!" Looking back, I saw with no little fright a two-wheeled cart dashing rapidly towards me. The cart was drawn by two horses whose driver had lost control over them. I could jump off neither to the right nor the left of the narrow path to let the cart pass; its wheels almost grazed the opposite walls; I was still too far from Victoria's residence to hope for escape in that direction; however swiftly I might run, I would be overtaken by the horses and trampled under their hoofs long before I could have reached the door. There was nothing left for me to do but to face the runaways, and, however hopeless the prospect, to seize them by the bit and attempt to stop them. Accordingly, I rushed forward upon the animals with my hands raised. Oh! A prodigy! Hardly did I touch the horses' reins when they suddenly reared upon their haunches. It was almost as if my mere gesture had sufficed to check their impetuous course. Happy at having escaped what seemed certain death, but aware that I was not a magician, endowed with the power to arrest a runaway team with a mere motion of my hand, I asked myself while leaping back what the cause might be of the extraordinary spectacle. I noticed that the horses still made violent efforts to proceed on their career; they reared, tugged forward and stretched out their necks, but were unable to advance, as if the cart's wheels were locked, or some superior power restrained them. My curiosity stirred to a high pitch, I drew near, and gliding between the horses and the wall, succeeded in climbing over the dashboard of the cart whose driver I found crouching under the seat, looking more dead than alive. As the mystery seemed to deepen, my curiosity was pricked still more. I ran to the rear of the vehicle and noticed with no slight amazement that a large sized man, robust as a Hercules, was clinging to two ornamental pieces that projected from the rear of the cart. It was thanks to his weight, and to the superhuman resistance that his great strength enabled him to offer, that the team was held back. "Captain Marion!" I cried. "I should have known as much! There is none other in the whole Gallic army able to hold back a cart going at full speed." "Tell that fool of a driver to pull in the reins. My wrists begin to tire." I was transmitting the orders to the driver who was beginning to recover his senses, when I saw several soldiers, on guard at Victoria's dwelling, pour out of the house attracted by the noise. They opened the yard gate and thus offered a safe exit to the cart. "There is no longer any danger," I said to the driver; "lead your horses on. But whom does this conveyance belong to?" "To Tetrik, the Governor of Gascony, who arrived yesterday at Mayence. He stops at Victoria's house," answered the driver, while calming down his horses. While the cart proceeded into the yard of Victoria's residence, I walked back towards the captain to thank him for his timely aid. Marion had left his blacksmith's anvil for the army many years previous. He was well known and generally beloved among the soldiers, as much for his heroic courage and extraordinary strength, as for his exceptional good judgment, his sound reasoning powers, the austerity of his morals, and his extreme good fellowship. He now stood on the road, and with his casque in his hand wiped the sweat off his brow. He wore a cuirass of steel scales over his Gallic blouse, and a long sword at his side. His dusty boots told of a recent and long ride on horseback. His large sunburnt face, partly covered by a thick beard that began to be streaked with grey, was open and pleasing. "Captain Marion," I said to him, "I must thank you for having saved me from being ground under the wheels of that cart." "I did not know it was you who ran the risk of being trampled under the hoofs of those horses like a dog! A stupid sort of a death for a brave soldier like you, Schanvoch! But when I heard that devil of a driver crying: 'Save yourself!' I surmised he was about to kill somebody and I tried to hold the cart back. Fortunately my mother endowed me with a good pair of wrists. But where is my dear friend Eustace?" added the captain looking around. "Whom do you refer to?" "To a brave fellow, the old companion of my blacksmith days. Like me, he left the hammer for the lance. The fortune of war served me better than it did him. Despite his bravery, my friend Eustace has remained a simple horseman, while I have been promoted to captain. But there he is, yonder, with his arms crossed, and motionless as a signpost. Ho! Eustace! Eustace!" At the call, the companion of Captain Marion approached slowly, with his arms crossed over his breast. He was a man of middle size and vigorous frame. His pale blonde hair and beard, his bilious complexion, his harsh and sullen physiognomy offered a striking contrast to the pleasant exterior of the captain. I asked myself what singular affinity could draw two men of such different appearance, and doubtless also such dissimilar characters, into close and constant friendship. "How is that, friend Eustace," the captain jokingly remarked to him, "you remain yonder looking at me with crossed arms, while I am engaged in holding back a runaway team?" "You are strong," Eustace answered; "what aid can the flesh-worm bring to the bull?" "That man is certainly consumed with jealousy and hatred," I thought to myself at hearing the answer and observing the sullen looks of the captain's friend. "There is no flesh-worm nor bull in the case, my friend Eustace," answered the captain with his habitual joviality and looking rather flattered by the comparison; "but when the flesh-worm and the bull are comrades, then, however strong the latter may be, or small the former, the one does not forsake the other--union makes strength, says the proverb." "Captain," answered the soldier with a bitter smile, "did I ever forsake you in the hour of danger? Have I not always fought at your side, since we left the forge together?" "I bear witness to the truth of that," cried Marion cordially, taking Eustace by the hand. "As true as the sword you carry is the last weapon I forged in order to give you a token of friendship, as it is engraved on the blade, you have ever in battle 'marched in my shadow,' as the saying goes in my country." "What is there strange about that?" replied the soldier. "Beside you, so brave and robust, I was what the shadow is to the body." "By the devil! Look at the shadow! My friend Eustace!" the captain exclaimed and laughed, and addressing me he added pointing at his companion Eustace: "Let me have two or three thousand shadows like that, and the first battle that we fight on the other side of the Rhine, I shall bring back a herd of Frankish prisoners." "You are a captain of renown! I, like so many other poor waifs, are good only to obey, to fight and to be killed. We are only meat for battles," replied the old blacksmith with an envious look and his lips slightly losing their color. "Captain," I said to Marion, "I presume you wish to see Victorin and his mother?" "Yes, I have a report to render to Victorin of a journey that my friend and I have just made." "I followed you as a soldier," Eustace said; "the name of an obscure horseman must not be remembered before Victoria the Great." The captain shrugged his shoulders with impatience and jokingly shook his enormous fist at his friend. "Captain," I insisted, addressing Marion, "let us hasten to Victoria. I should have been with her since dawn. I am late." "Friend Eustace," Marion said, starting to walk with me toward Victoria's residence, "will you stay here, or wait for me at our lodging?" "I shall wait here at the door--that is a subaltern's place." "Would you believe it, Schanvoch," Marion replied laughing, "would you believe that it is nearly twenty years that lad and I live together and quarrel like two brothers? He will not forget that I am a captain, and will not treat me as a simple anvil-beater, as he formerly used to." "I am not the only one, Marion, to realize the difference there is between us," Eustace answered. "You are one of the most renowned captains in the army--I am only one of the least of its soldiers." Saying this Eustace sat down on a stone near the door, and bit his nails. "He is incorrigible," the captain remarked to me; and we two entered the house of Victoria. "Captain Marion must be strangely blinded by friendship," I thought to myself, "to fail to perceive that his companion is consumed with malevolent jealousy." The residence of the Mother of the Camps was extremely simple. Captain Marion having asked one of the soldiers on guard whether Victorin could receive him, the soldier answered that he could give him no information on that head, seeing that the young general had not spent the night in the house. Despite the camp life, Marion preserved great austerity of morals. He seemed shocked to learn that Victorin had not yet returned home, and he cast a dissatisfied look at me. I wished to excuse Victoria's son, and said to him: "Let us not be hasty in believing evil. Tetrik, the Governor of Gascony, arrived yesterday at the camp. It may be that Victorin spent the night in conference with him." "So much the better. I would like to see that young man, who to-day is chief of the Gauls, free himself from the claws of that pest of profligacy that drives so many of us to evil deeds. As to myself, the moment I see a woman's bonnet or a short skirt, I turn my head away as if I saw the devil in person." "Victorin improves, and he will improve still more with ripening years," I replied to the captain. "But what can we do--he is young--he loves pleasure--and pretty girls." "I also love pleasure, and furiously, too!" exclaimed the good captain. "There is nothing that I delight more in, when my duties are done, than to enter my lodging and empty a pot of cool beer with my friend Eustace, while we chat over our old trade, or entertain ourselves furbishing our weapons and good armor. Those are real pleasures! And notwithstanding all the excitement that one finds in them, they are absolutely honorable. Let us hope, Schanvoch, that Victorin may some day prefer them to his immodest and diabolical orgies with the pretty girls, that scandalize us." "I am of your opinion, captain; hope is better than despair. But in the absence of Victorin you may confer with his mother. I shall notify her of your arrival." Saying this I left Marion alone, and passing into a neighboring apartment, encountered a serving-girl who led me to Victoria, the Mother of the Camps, my foster-sister. CHAPTER IX. VICTORIA THE GREAT. I wish, my son, for your benefit and the benefit of our descendants, to trace here the portrait of that illustrious Gallic woman, one of the purest glories of our country. I found Victoria seated beside the cradle of her grandson Victorinin, a handsome boy of two who lay profoundly asleep. Victoria had some needlework in her hands, and was busy sewing, agreeable to her custom as a good housekeeper. She was then, like myself, thirty-eight years of age, but she would have been hardly taken for thirty. In her youth she was appropriately compared to Diana, the huntress. In her mature years she was no less appropriately compared to the antique Minerva. Tall, well built, and virile, without thereby forfeiting the chaste graces of womanhood, she was magnificently shaped. Her beautiful face, instinct with a grave yet gentle expression, bore the impress of majesty under the crown of black hair which she wore in two braids coiled over her august forehead. Sent when still a little girl to a college of our venerated female druids, and having taken at the age of fifteen the mysterious vows that bound her indissolubly to the sacred religion of our fathers, she ever since, and although married, preserved the black garb of the female druids, which was also the habitual garb of the matrons of old Gaul. Her long wide sleeves, open up to the elbows, exposed a pair of arms as white and as strong as those of the valiant Gallic women, who, as you will see in our family narratives, my son, heroically fought the Romans at the battle of Vannes under the eyes of our grandmother Margarid, and preferred death to the disgraces of slavery. In the middle of the chamber, and not far from the seat occupied by the Mother of the Camps near her grandson's cradle, several rolls of parchment, together with all that was necessary for writing, lay upon a table. From the wall hung the two casques and swords of Victoria's father and husband, both killed in the same battle. One of the two casques was surmounted by the Gallic cock of gilt bronze, with his wings partly spread, and holding under his feet a lark that he menaced with his beak. The emblem was adopted by Victoria's father as a military ornament after a heroic combat in which, at the head of only a handful of men, he exterminated a Roman legion that bore a lark on its ensign. Under the weapons stood a little brass vase in which seven twigs of mistletoe were arranged. Gaul, you must remember, my son, reconquered her religious liberty in recovering her independence. Close to the brass vase and the twigs of mistletoe, a druid symbol, was a wooden cross, in commemoration of the death of Jesus of Nazareth, for whom the Mother of the Camps, without being a Christian, professed profound admiration. She looked upon him as one of the sages who shed luster upon humanity. Such, my son, was Victoria the Great, the illustrious Gallic woman whose name our descendants will ever pronounce with pride. When the Mother of the Camps saw me come in, she rose quickly and approached me with gladness, saying in her sonorous and sweet voice: "Welcome, brother! The mission was a dangerous one. Not seeing you back before sunset, I did not wish to send any message to your house, lest I alarm your wife by showing uneasiness at your prolonged absence. But here you are; I feel happy to see you back again." Saying this Victoria pressed my hand tenderly in hers. The words that we spoke must have disturbed the slumber of Victoria's grandson; he moved in his cradle and made a slight sound. Victoria stepped quickly to him, and kissed the child on the forehead. She then sat down, and placing the tip of her foot on a treadle below the cradle, rocked it gently, while she continued her conversation with me. "And the message?" she asked, "how did the barbarians receive it? Are they ready for peace? Do they want war? Did they accept our proposition?" I was just about to begin giving my foster-sister a complete account of my mission, when she interrupted me with a gesture, and, reflecting a second, proceeded to say: "Do you know that my dear relative Tetrik has been here since yesterday?" "I know it, sister." "He is due here any moment. I prefer that you make the report to me before him only." "I shall do so. Can you receive Captain Marion? He came for a conference with Victorin." "Schanvoch, my son again spent the night out of the house!" remarked Victoria plying her needle more quickly, an action that, with her, always denoted deep annoyance. "Having heard of your relative's arrival, I surmised that, possibly, grave questions kept Victorin closeted with Tetrik during the night. That is the theory I threw out to Captain Marion, and told him that perhaps you would be ready to hear the report he has for your son." Victoria remained silent for a moment; she then dropped her needlework on her lap, raised her head and resumed in a tone of suppressed grief: "Victorin has vices--his vices are smothering his good parts. Moths destroy the best of grain." "Have confidence and hope--age will mature him." "During the last two years his vices grow upon him, his good parts decline." "His bravery, his generosity, his frankness have not degenerated." "His bravery no longer is the calm and provident bravery that becomes a general--it is becoming blind--headless. His generosity no longer distinguishes between the worthy and the unworthy. His reasoning powers decline--wine and debauchery are killing him. By Hesus! A drunkard and a debauché! He, my son! One of the chiefs of Gaul, free to-day and, perhaps, to-morrow, matchless among nations. Schanvoch, I am an unfortunate mother!" "Victorin loves me--I shall reprove him severely." "Do you imagine that your remonstrances will accomplish what the prayers of his own mother have failed to do? Of the mother who never left his side all his life, following him with the army, often even into battle? Schanvoch, Hesus punishes me--I have been too proud of my son!" "And what mother would not have been proud of him the day when a whole valiant army, of its own free choice, acclaimed as its chief the general of twenty years of age, behind whom they saw--you, his mother!" "What does it matter, if he dishonors me! And yet, my only ambition was to make of my son a citizen, a man worthy of our fathers! Did I not, when nourishing him with my milk, also nourish him with an ardent and holy love for our Gaul that was coming to life again--and to freedom! What was it that I asked; what was it that I always desired? To live an obscure life and ignored, but devote my night-watches and my days, my intelligence, my knowledge of the past, which enables me to understand the present, and at times to peer into the future--in short, to devote all the energies of my soul and of my mind to rendering my son brave, wise, enlightened, worthy at all points of guiding the free men who chose him their chief. And then, Hesus is my witness, proud as a Gallic woman, happy as a mother of having given birth to such a man, I would have enjoyed his glory and my country's prosperity in the seclusion of my humble home. But to have a drunkard and debauché for a son! Oh, wrath of heaven! Does not the giddy-headed boy understand that every excess that he indulges in is a slap that he gives his mother in the face? If he does not understand it, our soldiers do. Yesterday, as I crossed the camp, three old horsemen rode towards me. Do you know what they said to me? 'Mother, we pity you!'--and they rode off dejectedly. Schanvoch, I tell you, I am an unhappy mother!" "Listen to me. For some time since, our soldiers have been growing dissatisfied with Victorin. I admit it, I understand it. The warrior whom free men have chosen for their chief must be above excesses, and must even be able to control the impulses of his age. That is true, sister; and have I not often chided your son in your presence?" "You have." "Well, at this moment I take up his defense. These soldiers, whom we see to-day so full of scruples on the score of slips that are frequent with young chiefs, act, not so much in obedience to their own scruples, as in obedience to perfidious incitements that emanate from some secret enemy." "What do you mean?" "There are people who envy your son; they envy his influence over the troops. In order to undo him, his defects are being exploited so as to furnish a foundation for infamous calumnies." "Who is jealous of Victorin? Who would have an interest in spreading such calumnies?" "It is especially during the last month, not so, that this hostility to your son has manifested itself and has been on the increase?" "Yes, yes; but whom do you suspect of inciting it?" "Sister, what I am about to tell you is serious. It is a month ago that one of your relatives, the Governor of Gascony, came to Mayence--" "Tetrik!" "Yes; he departed after a stay of a few days! Almost immediately after Tetrik's departure the silent hostility towards your son began, and has since steadily grown!" Victoria looked at me in silence, as if she did not quite grasp the bearing of my words. But a sudden thought seeming to flash through her mind, she cried in a tone of reproach: "What! You suspect Tetrik! My own relative and best friend, the wisest of men, one of the most enlightened citizens of our age, a man who seeks his delight in letters and displays no mean poetic talents! One of the most useful men in the defense of Gaul, although he is not a man of war! Tetrik, who in his government of Gascony repairs by dint of wisdom the evils that civil war inflicted upon the province! Oh, brother, I expected better things from your loyal heart and your good sense!" "I suspect that man!" "Oh, you iron-headed, inflexible nature! Why should you suspect Tetrik? By what right? What has he done? By Hesus! If you were not my brother--if I did not know your heart--I would think you are jealous of my esteem for my relative!" Victoria had barely uttered these last words, when she seemed to regret having allowed them to escape her. She said: "Forget these words!" "They would greatly grieve me, sister, if the unjust doubt that they express could blind you to the truth." At this moment the servant entered and asked whether Tetrik could be admitted. "Let him in," answered Victoria, "let him in immediately." Tetrik stepped into the room. CHAPTER X. TETRIK. The personage who now entered the apartment was an undersized man of middle age. His face was refined and gentle; an affable smile played permanently around his lips. In short, his exterior bespoke so fully the man of honor that, seeing him enter, Victoria could not refrain from casting at me a look that still seemed to reproach me for my suspicions. Tetrik walked straight to Victoria, kissed her on the forehead with paternal familiarity and said: "Greeting to you, Victoria!" And approaching the cradle in which the grandson of the Mother of the Camps still slept, the Governor of Gascony contemplated the child with tenderness, and added, in a low voice, as if afraid to awaken him: "Sleep, poor little one! You are smiling in your infantine dreams, and you know not that, perhaps, the future of our beloved Gaul may rest upon your head. Sleep, little fellow, predestined, no doubt, to carry out the task that your glorious father has undertaken! A noble task that will engage his efforts for many long years under the inspiration of your august grandmother! Sleep, poor little one," Tetrik added, with eyes dimmed with tears of tenderness, "the gods that are propitious to Gaul will watch over you--you will grow up for the welfare of your country!" While her relative wiped his moist eyes, Victoria again interrogated me with her looks, as if asking me whether such was the language and the physiognomy of a traitor, of a cowardly hypocrite, of a man who was a perfidious enemy of the child's father. Turning then to me, Tetrik said affectionately: "Greeting to the best, the most faithful friend of the woman whom I most love and venerate in the world; greeting to Victoria's foster-brother." "Your speech is true. I am the obscurest but also the most devoted friend of Victoria," I answered looking fixedly at Tetrik, "and it is the duty of a friend to unmask scamps and traitors." "I am of your opinion, friend Schanvoch," Tetrik answered with simplicity. "A friend's first duty is to unmask scamps and traitors. I fear the roaring lion with its jaws wide open less than the serpent that creeps in the dark." "Now, then, I, Schanvoch, have this to say to you, Tetrik. You are one of the dangerous reptile that you have just mentioned. I consider you a traitor! And I purpose to unmask your treason!" "Schanvoch!" cried Victoria interrupting me in a reproachful tone. "I perceive that the old Gallic love for raillery, one of our franchises, has returned with our gods and our freedom," replied the governor smiling. And turning to Victoria he added: "Our friend Schanvoch possesses the art of dry humor--the most amusing of all--" "My brother speaks seriously and out of an honorable impulse," the Mother of the Camps broke in saying. "And I grieve thereat, since I know that he is mistaken; but he is sincere in his error--" Tetrik let his eyes wander alternately from Victoria to me with no little amazement; for a moment he was silent; thereupon he said in a serious and penetrating voice: "All faithful friends are quick to suspect. Good Schanvoch, your distrust is inexplicable to me; but it must have its reason. The attack was frank, frank shall be the answer. Let us settle the question. What is your charge against me?" "About a month ago you came to Mayence. A man of your retinue, your secretary, Morix by name and well supplied with money, gave the soldiers to drink and at the same time endeavored to irritate them against Victorin, saying to them that it was disgraceful that their general, one of the two chiefs of regenerated Gaul, should be a drunkard and a profligate. Did your secretary hold such language, yes or no? I wait for your answer." "Proceed, friend Schanvoch, proceed--" "Your secretary told a story that, being subsequently spread through the camp, has greatly irritated the soldiers against Victorin. This was the story: A few months ago, Victorin and several officers went to a tavern on one of the isles in the Rhine; after having drunk copiously, Victorin, excited by the wine, violated the innkeeper's wife, and she thereupon killed herself in despair--" "Calumny!" cried Victoria. "I know and condemn my son's faults--but he is incapable of such an infamous act!" The governor listened to me without betraying the slightest emotion. Presently he said with a smile and his habitual placidity of countenance: "So, then, good Schanvoch, it is your opinion that, obedient to orders received from me, my secretary spread unworthy calumnies in the camp?" "Yes. It is all done with your knowledge and consent." "And what could be my motive?" "You are ambitious--" "And in what manner could such calumnies subserve my ambition?" "If the dissatisfaction of the soldiers with Victorin, whom they elected, continues, you would then use your influence with Victoria to the end of inducing her to propose you to the soldiers as Victorin's successor in the government of Gaul." "A mother! Did you stop to consider that, good Schanvoch?" Tetrik answered looking at Victoria. "A mother sacrifice a son to a friend!" "In the greatness of her love for her country, Victoria would certainly sacrifice her son to your elevation if the measure became necessary to the welfare of Gaul. Am I mistaken, sister?" "No," Victoria answered me evidently grieved at my accusations against her relative; "in that you say the truth, but as to the inferences that you draw therefrom, I reject them." "And that heroic sacrifice, good Schanvoch," resumed the governor, "Victoria is expected to make knowing that it was through my underground calumnies that her son's reputation was blasted with the soldiers?" "My sister would not have been aware of your intrigues had I not unmasked them. Besides, more than once did I hear her say, and justly say, that in case peace was established, it would be better for the country if its chief, instead of being ever prone to battle, gave serious thought to the healing of the wounds inflicted by the past wars. She often mentioned you as one of the men who wisely prefer peace to war." "It is true, I hold that the sword, good to destroy, is impotent to reconstruct," remarked Victoria; "and the freedom of Gaul once firmly established, I would prefer to see my son give more thought to peace than to war. It was, therefore, Schanvoch, that I commissioned you with one last attempt with the Franks, looking to the restoration of peace." "Allow that I interrupt you, Victoria," put in Tetrik, "and that I ask our friend Schanvoch whether he has any other charges against me." "I charge you with being either the secret agent of the Roman Emperor Galien, or the agent of the chief of the new creed, Roman Catholicism." "I!" cried the governor. "I the agent of the Christians!" "I said the agent of the chief of the new creed. I refer to the Bishop of Rome, who entitles himself 'Sovereign Pontiff.'" "I the agent of Etienne, the Bishop of Rome, and fourteenth Pope of the new church?--of that Pope, of whom Firmilien, the Bishop of Caesarea, wrote to Cyprian, the presiding officer of the Spanish council, composed of twenty-eight bishops: 'Would one believe that that man (Pope Etienne) had a soul in his body? Evidently his body is but ill conducted, and his soul is in a disordered condition. Etienne does not stick at calling his brother Cyprian a false Christ, a false apostle, a fraudulent artisan; in order to forestall having these things said of himself, he has the audacity to make the accusation against others.' And can I be the agent of that ambitious pontiff! Of that simoniacal bishop, who is given over to all manner of vices!" "Yes--unless that, deceiving at once both the Roman Emperor and the Pope of Rome, you are serving both, ready to sacrifice the one or the other, according as your ambition may require." "That I serve the Romans is a thing that I am ready to admit," Tetrik answered with his unalterable placidity. "However unjust your suspicion towards me, it may be understood, as an instance of extreme patriotism. We are well aware that, although we have succeeded, by force of arms, to reconquer during nearly three centuries, inch by inch the full freedom once enjoyed by old Gaul, the Roman Emperors have seen with sorrow our country slip from their dominion. Accordingly, I can understand, Schanvoch, how you might accuse me of desiring to arrive at power in Gaul, with the end in view of sooner or later restoring the country to the Romans, although in doing so I would be betraying it most infamously. But is it imaginable that I act in the interest of the Pope of the Christians, of those unhappy people who are everywhere persecuted and martyrized? It is not a sane thought! What could I do for them? What could they do for me?" Schanvoch was about to answer. Victoria interrupted him with a gesture and said to Tetrik while she pointed to the cross of black wood, the emblem of the death of Jesus, that was placed near the brass vase with the seven twigs of mistletoe, a druid symbol much in use among the Gauls: "Look at that cross, Tetrik, it tells you that, without infidelity to our own gods, I nevertheless venerate him who said that no man has the right to oppress his fellows; that the guilty merit pity and consolation, not contempt and severity; and that the irons of the slave should be stricken off. Blessed be these maxims, Tetrik; the wisest of our druids have accepted them as holy; accordingly, you may judge how dearly I love the gentle and pure morality of that young man of Nazareth. But listen, Tetrik," Victoria added pensively, "there is something unexplainable, strange and mysterious that makes me shudder. Yes, many a time and oft, during my long watches beside the cradle of my grandson, and when I pondered the present and the past, tormenting thoughts crowded upon my mind concerning the future of our well-beloved Gaul." "And whence does your terror proceed?" Tetrik asked. "What is its cause?" "That for three successive centuries Rome was the implacable foe of Gaul," Victoria answered; "that for so many centuries Rome was the merciless scourge of the world!" "Rome?" replied the governor. "Pagan Rome?" "Yes. The tyranny that weighed down upon the world had its seat in Rome," rejoined Victoria. "Now, then, I ask myself, by what strange fatality have the bishops, the Popes of the new creed, who aspire to reign over the universe by ruling the sovereigns of the world, been led to establish the seat of their empire in Rome? Jesus of Nazareth branded the high priests as liars and hypocrites. He preached above all, humility, forgiveness, equality, fraternity among men, and lo! in his apotheosized name, we now see a new hierarchy of high priests arising, pretending to be the rulers of the world, and already, as Pope Etienne, meriting the charges of ambition, deception and intolerance, even from their fellow Christian bishops!" "Is it you, Victoria, who hold such language?" Tetrik interrupted her saying: "You so wise, so enlightened--can you fear the future of Gaul to be endangered by those unhappy people who bear witness to their faith by their martyrdom?" "Oh!" cried the Mother of the Camps with exaltation. "I love, I admire those poor Christians who die in torture while proclaiming the equality of man before God, the liberation of the slaves, the community of goods, love and forgiveness for the guilty! I love, I admire those poor Christians who die on the scaffold and proclaim in the name of Jesus: 'Those are monsters of iniquity who hold their brothers in bondage, who leave them to suffer in cold and hunger, instead of sharing with them their bread and their cloak.' Oh! pity and veneration for those heroic martyrs! But I stand in dread of those people who call themselves the chiefs, the Popes of the Christians. Yes, I stand in dread of those high priests who have fixed upon Rome as the seat of their mysterious empire!--in that city, the center of the most frightful tyranny that has ever crushed down the human race! I fear for the future of Gaul from that quarter." "Victoria," again Tetrik interrupted, saying: "You exaggerate the power of those Christian pontiffs. Have not large numbers of them, persecuted by the Roman Emperors, undergone martyrdom, like any other neophytes?" "Every battle has its dead, and the Popes struggle with the Emperors in order to wrench from these the dominion over the world! Among those bishops there have been many who have spoken and died like Jesus. But if there are some worthy pontiffs among them, and they are few, the domination of the priests is not, for that, any the less dread a visitation upon the people. Has not the government of our own priests been despotic and merciless? Did not the druids leave the people for over ten centuries steeped in crassest ignorance, governing them with the instruments of barbarism--superstition and terror? Did not those days of oppression and debasement last until the glorious and prosperous epoch when, merged in the body of the nation as citizens, fathers and soldiers, our druids took part in the common life of the people, in the joys of the family, and in the national wars against the foreigner? What I apprehend for the future of the nations is that some day there may be established in Rome a murky alliance between the Pope and the most powerful Emperors and Kings of the world! Unhappy will that day be for the peoples! From such an alliance a frightful political and religious tyranny will be born, and it will be watered with the blood of fresh martyrs! Woe, then, to the peoples! They will once more be made to bend under a pitiless theocratic yoke!" As she uttered these words, Victoria seemed inspired by the prophetic genius of the female druids of olden times. Tetrik listened to her in silence, but instead of answering, he resumed with a smile: "See how far we have wandered from the charges that our friend Schanvoch has preferred against me--and yet, Victoria, your words, regarding the apprehension that the Christian high priests, as you style them, fill you with for the future, in a manner bring us back to the charges. So, then, Schanvoch, the purpose of the perfidies that you charge me with is to arrive at power in Gaul, to the end of betraying the country to pagan or to Catholic Rome?" "Yes, that is my opinion." "Schanvoch, I shall not need many words for my defense. One of my secretaries did seek to arouse the hostility of our soldiers against Victorin. Your revelation comes rather late--" "I learned the facts only yesterday." "That is of no consequence," he replied, "that secretary was dismissed by me just because I learned that, irritated at Victorin for having railed at him several times, he sought to revenge himself by spreading against the general calumnies that were even more ridiculous and odious. But let us drop these petty matters. I am ambitious, you say, friend Schanvoch! I aim at the government of Gaul, even if, in order to accomplish my purpose, I should have to resort to unworthy intrigues! Now, ask Victoria what errand brings me back to Mayence." "Tetrik believes that the peace and prosperity of Gaul require that the soldiers be induced to proclaim my son's son the heir of his father's office. Tetrik believes he can count upon the consent of Emperor Galien." "Tetrik must, then, anticipate the speedy death of Victorin," I answered looking fixedly at the governor. He, however, whose eyes were rarely met, seeing he kept them habitually lowered, answered: "The Franks are on the other side of the Rhine--and Victorin is of temerarious bravery. My ardent wish is that he may live many more years; but death has no respect even for the most valuable life. It is my opinion that Gaul would find a pledge of security for the future if it knew that after Victorin the power would remain with the son of him whom the army acclaimed its chief, especially seeing that the child would have for his instructress Victoria, the Mother of the Camps." "But in case Victoria were to die, who tells me, Tetrik, that you would not have yourself appointed the child's tutor, exercise the power in his name, and in that manner arrive at the government of Gaul?" "Are you speaking seriously, Schanvoch?" Tetrik replied. "Ask Victoria whether she needs my help in order to render her grandson worthy of her and of the country? Do you imagine she is one of those weak women who feel forced to share a glorious task with others? Is not the idolatry that the soldiers entertain for her a sufficient guarantee that, in the event of Victorin's premature death, she could preserve alone the wardship of her grandson and govern in his name?" Victoria shook her head thoughtfully and sadly, and said: "I do not like your project of transmitting the office by inheritance, Tetrik. What! Shall a child, still in his cradle, be designated to the soldiers for their choice! Who knows what may become of this child?" "Has he not you for his teacher?" asked Tetrik. "Have I not been the teacher and instructress of Victorin also?" the Mother of the Camps answered sadly. "And yet, despite all my vigilant cares, my son has defects that serve as the basis for frightful calumnies. But of these, I sincerely assure you, Tetrik, I hold you guiltless; and I now hope that my brother Schanvoch will join me in doing justice to your loyalty." "I said so before, I repeat it now--I suspect this man!" I answered Victoria. She replied with impatience: "And I said so before and repeat it now--you are a head of iron, a genuine Breton head, rebellious to all reason, the moment a notion takes root in your brain." Instinctively convinced of Tetrik's perfidy, but having no more proofs against him, I said nothing more. But Tetrik resumed with a smile, and without betraying the slightest perturbation: "Neither you nor I, Victoria, could convince our good Schanvoch of his error. Let us leave that to an irresistible seductress--Truth. It will with time furnish the evidence of my loyalty. We shall return later, Victoria, to your repugnance in the matter of causing the army to acclaim your grandson the heir of his father's office. I still expect to overcome your scruples. But as I came in I saw one of your officers who seemed to await his turn for an audience. Do you not think it well to let him come in? It is Captain Marion, the old blacksmith, whom you introduced to me at my first trip to the camp as one of the bravest men in the army." "His valor matches his disposition and good judgment," replied the Mother of the Camps. "The man has a noble heart and is a faithful friend. Despite his promotion, he has continued to love as a brother one of the old companions of his trade, who remained a simple soldier." "Even at the risk of being again taken for an iron head, I am of the opinion that in the matter of this affection the good heart of Captain Marion misleads his judgment. I can only hope, Victoria, that your blindness may not be as complete as Captain Marion's." "Do you mean that the faithful companion of Captain Marion is his enemy?" queried Victoria. "You are singularly mistrustful to-day, brother!" When I alluded to Captain Marion and his friend I again sought to catch the eyes of the Governor of Gascony, but in vain. Nevertheless it was with no slight surprise that I noticed him slightly start with joy when I asserted that Captain Marion had a secret foe in his camp companion. Ever master over himself, Tetrik doubtlessly feared that slight as was his manifestation of joy it might not have escaped me. He said: "Envy is so revolting a feeling that I can never hear it mentioned without it makes a painful impression upon me. I feel positively grieved at what Schanvoch, who in this respect also, I hope, may be mistaken, tells us of the comrade of Captain Marion. But, should my presence prevent you from receiving the captain, Victoria, I shall withdraw." "On the contrary, I wish you to be present at the interview that I am to have with Marion and my brother Schanvoch. They were given important commissions by my son, and yet," she added with a sigh, "the morning is passing, and my son is not yet home!" At that very moment the door of the room was thrown open, and Victorin entered accompanied by Captain Marion. CHAPTER XI VICTORIN. The son of Victoria the Great was then in his twenty-third year. I told you, my son, that several medals were struck on which he figured in the guise of the god Mars beside his mother, who wore on her head a casque resembling that of the antique Minerva. Indeed, Victorin could have served as a model for a statue of the god of war. Tall, supple, robust, with a shape at once elegant and martial, he pleased all eyes. His features, imprinted with the rare beauty of his mother's, differed from them by an expression of mirthfulness and daring. The openness and generosity of his character was clearly visible on his face. On seeing him, one forgot, despite himself, the defects that marred that manly being, too vivacious and too fiery to curb the impulses of his age. Victorin doubtlessly came from a night of pleasure; yet his face looked as fresh as if he had just left his bed. A felt coif, ornamented with a little brooch, half covered his black hair, that fell in luxuriant ringlets around his virile and browned face. His Gallic blouse, made of silken fabric striped white and purple, was held around his waist by a silver-embroidered leather belt, from which hung his curiously chiseled gold hilted sword--a veritable masterpiece of Autun goldsmithing. Upon entering his mother's room followed by Captain Marion, Victorin proceeded straight to her with a mixture of tenderness and respect. He dropped upon one knee, took and kissed one of her hands, removed his head-cover, and, reaching up his forehead for her to kiss, said: "Greeting to my mother!" There was so touching a charm in the young general's features and posture, there on his knee before his mother, that I noticed her hesitate for a second between the desire to embrace the son whom she adored and the inclination to express her dissatisfaction with him. She gently pushed Victorin's head back with her hand, and said in a grave voice while pointing at the cradle that stood near: "Embrace your son--you have not seen him since yesterday." The young general understood the indirect reproach; he rose sadly, approached the cradle, took up the child in his arms, and embraced him effusively while his eyes wandered over to his mother, as if to tell her that he was indemnifying himself for her maternal severity. Captain Marion had drawn close to me and said in a low voice: "After all, Victorin has a good heart. How he does love his mother! How he cherishes his child! He surely is as much attached to them as I am to my friend Eustace, who constitutes my whole family. What a pity that that pest of profligacy" (the good captain hardly ever spoke without throwing in those words) "so frequently has the young man fast in its claws!" "It is a misfortune! But do you believe Victorin capable of the infamous act that he is charged with in camp?" I inquired from the captain loud enough to be heard by Tetrik, who, speaking with Victoria in a low voice, seemed to be reproaching her for her severity towards her son. "No, by the devil!" was Marion's quick answer. "I do not believe Victorin capable of such indignities--least way when I see him there between his mother and child." After carefully placing his child back into the cradle and kissing its outstretched hands, the young general said affectionately to the Governor of Gascony: "Greeting to Tetrik! I always love to see among us my mother's wise and faithful friend." And turning towards me: "I knew that you had returned, Schanvoch. When I heard the news my heart filled with joy--with as much joy as I felt apprehension during your absence. These Frankish bandits have often shown us how little they respect truces and parliamentarians." But doubtlessly noticing the sadness that still marked the visage of Victoria, her son approached her and said with as much frankness as tender deference: "Listen, mother--before you broach the matter of Captain Marion's and Schanvoch's messages, let me tell you what I have upon my heart; it might unwrinkle your brow, and I might no longer read on it the displeasure that afflicts me. Tetrik is a kind relative, Captain Marion is our friend, Schanvoch your brother--I can here speak freely. Admit it, mother, you are annoyed that I spent the night out of the house, are you not?" "Your disorderly conduct grieves me, Victorin--and it grieves me still more to see that my voice is no longer heard by you." "Mother, I shall make a full confession to you; but I swear that I have upbraided myself more severely for my weakness than you could have done yourself. Last evening, faithful to my promise of discussing fully with you the grave matters that we have in hand, I went home betimes; I had declined--Oh! heroically declined an invitation to take supper with three of the captains of the legions that recently arrived at Mayence from Beziers. Vain were all their praises of the kegs of fine old wines, of that country of wine _par excellence_, that they brought with them carefully stowed away in their war chariots to celebrate their safe arrival. I remained unmoved. They then tried to win me over by speaking of two strolling Bohemian songstresses, Kidda and Flora--pardon me, mother, for pronouncing the names of such women before you, but truthfulness compels me to do so. These Bohemian girls, my tempters said to me, had recently arrived in Mayence; they described them as wondrously beautiful, frisky as demons, magnificent dancers, and singers like nightingales! Certes, there was enough to tempt me in such a description." "Ah! I see it--I see it clearly approaching, that pest of profligacy--I see it creeping towards him on its velvet feet, like a wily and hungry tigress!" Marion cried. "How I would like to make those brazen Bohemian she-devils dance on sheets of red-hot iron! It is only then they would sing tunes to suit my ears--" "I was even wiser than you, brave Marion," Victorin proceeded to say; "I did not wish to see and hear them dance and sing in any way; I ran precipitately away from my tempters to come here--" "It is easy to say that; run away?--that pest of profligacy has legs as long as its arms and teeth!" the captain said. "It surely overtook you, Victorin!" "Deign to listen to me, mother," Victorin resumed, seeing my foster-sister make a gesture of disgust and impatience. "I was only two hundred paces from the house--the night was dark--a woman wrapped in a hooded cloak accosted me." "Now they are three!" cried the good captain clasping his hands. "We now have the two Bohemian girls reinforced by a hooded woman. Oh, unfortunate Victorin! You have no idea what diabolical snares lie hidden under those hoods--my friend Eustace would surely succumb and wind up by being hooded himself--but I would flee!" "'My father is an old soldier,' the woman said to me," proceeded Victorin with his narrative. "'One of his old wounds opened, he is dying; he knew you as a child, Victorin; he does not wish to die without once more pressing the hand of his young general; you will not refuse such a favor to my dying father, will you?' Such was the tale of the unknown woman; she spoke in accents that went straight to my heart. What would you have done, mother?" "Despite my dread of women's hoods, I would have gone and seen the poor old soldier," answered the captain. "Certes, I would have gone, seeing that my presence would render death sweeter to him." "Well, I did what you would have done, Marion. I followed the unknown woman; we arrived at a rickety house; it was dark; the door opened; my female guide seized my hand; led by her, I took a few steps in the darkness. Suddenly the glare of lights fell upon my eyes and dazed me. The three captains of the Beziers legions and other officers surrounded me. The veiled woman dropped her wraps, and I recognized--" "One of the cursed Bohemian girls!" cried the captain. "Ha! I told you so, Victorin! Women's hoods hide frightful things!" "Frightful? Alas, no, Marion! I had not the courage to shut my eyes. I was immediately surrounded from all sides; the other Bohemian girl ran out of a room and joined my captors. The doors were locked. I was dragged to a seat of honor at a banquet table. Kidda placed herself at my right, Flora at my left; and before me, upon a table loaded with eatables, rose one of the kegs of old and divine nectar, as the accursed fellows informed me; and--" "And day surprised you in that fresh orgy," said Victoria interrupting her son. "You thus forgot amidst the pleasures of the table and debauchery the hour that summoned you to me! Is that an excuse?" "No, dear mother, it is a confession--I was weak--but as truly as Gaul is free, I would have come dutifully home to you, but for the ruse by which I was misled and kept away. Will you not be indulgent towards me, mother, this once? I pray you!" saying which Victorin again knelt down before my foster-sister. "Be not so severe! I know my faults! Age will cure me! I am still too young, and my blood is still too warm. The ardor of pleasure often carries me away, despite myself--and yet, you know, mother, I would give my life for you--" "I believe you--but yet you will not sacrifice to me your insensate and evil passions--" "When one sees Victorin so respectful and repentant at his mother's feet," I whispered to Marion, "would one think he is the celebrated general, so dreaded by the enemies of Gaul--the general, who, at the age of twenty-two already has won five great battles?" "Victoria," said Tetrik in his kind and insinuating voice, "I also am a father and inclined to indulgence. Besides, in my hours of recreation, I am a poet, and I wrote an ode to Youth. How could I be severe? I love Victorin's brilliant qualities so much, that I find it hard to censure him! Could you be insensible to the tender words of your son? His only crime is his youth. As he said, years will cure that--and his affection for you, his deference to your wishes will hasten the cure--" As the Governor of Gascony was saying these words, a great noise was heard outside of the house, and the cry was soon heard: "To arms! To arms!" Victoria, who was seated, quickly rose to her feet, together with Victorin. "They cry to arms!" repeated Captain Marion anxiously, and listened. "The Franks must have broken the truce!" I cried in turn. "Yesterday one of their chiefs threatened me with a speedy attack upon our camp; I did not believe they would put their threat so quickly into action." "A truce is never broken before its expiration, without notice is given in advance," observed Tetrik. "The Franks are barbarians; they are capable of any act of treachery," cried Victoria rushing to the door. It opened before an officer covered with dust, and so breathless that he could not at first utter a word. "Do you not belong to the post of the camp's vanguard, four leagues from here?" the young general asked the officer; he knew personally all the officers of the army. "What has happened?" "A large number of rafts, loaded with troops and towed by barks, hove in sight towards the middle of the Rhine, when, upon orders of the commander of the post, I rode hither at full speed to bring the news to you, Victorin. By this hour the Frankish hordes must have disembarked. The post that I left is too weak to resist a whole army, and must have fallen back upon the camp. While crossing the camp I cried to arms! The legions and cohorts are forming in all haste." "It is the barbarians' answer to the message that Schanvoch took to them," said the Mother of the Camps to Victorin. "What answer did the Franks give you?" the young general asked me. "Neroweg, one of the principal kings of their army, rejected all idea of peace," I said to Victorin. "The barbarians are set upon invading Gaul and subjugating us. I threatened their chief with a war of extermination. He answered me insolently that the sun would not rise six times before he would fall upon our camp, set fire to our tents, pillage our baggage and carry off Victoria the Great--" "If they are on the march upon us, we have not a minute to spare!" cried Tetrik in a fright addressing the young general, who, calm and collected, with his arms crossed over his chest, was reflecting in silence. "We must act, and act quickly!" "Before acting," answered Victorin, "we must reflect." "But," replied the governor, "suppose the Franks move with forced marches upon the camp?" "So much the better!" Victorin said impatiently. "So much the better! We shall let them draw near to us!" Victorin's answer astonished Tetrik, and I must admit, I would myself have been astonished and even alarmed at hearing the young general speak of temporizing in the presence of an imminent attack, had I not had innumerable proofs of his unerring judgment. His mother made a sign to the governor not to disturb her son in his meditation upon the plan of battle, which, undoubtedly, he was revolving in his mind, and said to Marion: "You arrived this morning from your trip to the inhabitants on the other side of the Rhine, who are so often pillaged by these barbarians. What is the plan of those tribes?" "Too weak to act single-handed, they are ready to join us at the first call. Fires, that we are to light either by day or night on the hill of Berak, will give them the signal. There will be men on the watch for them. The moment the signal is given they will start on the march. One of our best captains shall head a troop of picked soldiers across the river and effect a junction with them, while the bulk of our army shall simultaneously operate upon this side." "The plan is excellent, Captain Marion," observed Victoria approvingly. "Especially at this juncture, such an alliance is of great service to us. Your eyes have, as usual, seen rightly." "If one has good eyes, he must seek to put them to the best use possible," the captain answered with his wonted affability. "That is what I said to my friend Eustace." "What friend is that?" asked Victoria. "Whom do you refer to?" "I refer to a soldier--my old companion at the anvil. I took him with me on the journey that I am now back from. Thus, instead of ruminating over my little projects all to myself, I uttered them aloud to my friend Eustace. He is discreet; by no means a fool; true enough, he is as peevish as the devil, and he often grumbles at me, whereat I profit not a little." "I am aware of your friendship for that soldier," replied Victoria. "Your affection does you honor." "To love an old friend is a simple and natural matter. I said to him: 'Do you see, Eustace, one day or other those Frankish skinners will undertake a decisive attack upon us. In order to protect their retreat, they will leave a body of reserve to protect their camp and wagons. That reserve will not be too large a morsel for our allied tribes to swallow, especially if they are reinforced by a picked legion in command of one of our own captains. So that if those skinners are beaten on this side of the Rhine, their retreat will be cut off on the other side of the river.' What I then foresaw is coming about to-day. The Franks are attacking us; I think we should forthwith send word to the allied tribes, and follow that with some picked troops, commanded by a captain of energy, prudence and skill--" "That captain will be yourself, Marion," Victoria quickly put in interrupting the captain. "I? Very well! I know the country. My plan is quite simple. While the Franks are marching upon us, I shall cross the Rhine, and there burn their wagons and cut the reserve to pieces. Let Victorin deliver battle on our side of the river; the Franks will then try to re-cross the Rhine; there they will find me and my friend Eustace ready to meet them with something else than a glad hand to help them disembark. And their hopes will be dashed when they learn that camp, reserves and wagons have all gone up in flames." "Marion," replied my foster-sister after having carefully listened to the captain, "victory is certain if you carry out the plan with your customary bravery and coolness." "I have great good hopes. My friend Eustace said to me in a more than usually querulous voice: 'Your plan is not so very stupid; it is not so very stupid.' I know from experience that the approval of Eustace has always brought me good luck." "Victoria," Tetrik approached saying in a low voice and no longer able to control his uneasiness, "I am not a man of war. I repose complete confidence in the military genius of your son. But an enemy twice as strong as ourselves is drawing nearer by the minute--and Victorin, still absorbed in his meditations, decides nothing, orders nothing!" "He told you rightly that before acting, one must think," answered Victoria. "The power of calm reflection, at the moment of danger, is the sign of a wise and prudent captain. Would it not be folly to run blindly ahead of danger?" Suddenly Victorin clapped his hands, leaped to his mother's neck, embraced her and cried: "Mother--Hesus inspires me. Not one of the barbarians who crossed the river will escape, and the peace of Gaul will be assured for many years. Your project is excellent, Captain Marion; it fits in with my own plan of battle, as if we had jointly conceived it!" "What! Did you hear me?" asked the astonished captain. "I thought you were wrapped up in your own thoughts!" "However absorbed a lover may seem to be, he always overhears what is said of his sweetheart, my brave Marion," was Victorin's mirthful answer. "My sovereign mistress is war!" "Again that pest of profligacy!" Captain Marion whispered to me. "Alack! It pursues him even in his thoughts of battle!" "Marion," remarked Victorin, "we have on this side of the Rhine two hundred and ten barks of war propelled by six oars--have we?" "About that number, and well equipped!" "Fifty of them will suffice for you to transport the reinforcement of picked troops that you are to take to our allies. The remaining hundred and sixty, manned by ten soldier oarsmen provided with axes, besides twenty picked archers, will hold themselves ready to descend the Rhine as far as the promontory of Herfel, where they will wait for further instructions. Issue this order to the captain of the flotilla before you embark." "It shall be done--rely upon me!" "Carry out your plan, brave Marion, from point to point. Cut the Frankish reserve to pieces, burn their camp and wagons. Ours is the day if I succeed in forcing the barbarians to retreat," said Victorin. "And you will, Victorin! I shall run for my friend, Eustace, and carry out your orders." Before leaving the room Captain Marion drew his sword, presented the hilt to the Mother of the Camps and making the military salute, said: "Touch this sword with your hand if you please, Victoria--it will be a good augury for the day." "Go, brave and good Marion," answered the Mother of the Camps returning the weapon after she had clasped the hilt with a virile hand; "go, Hesus is with Gaul!" "Our battle cry shall be, 'Victoria!' and it will resound from one bank of the river to the other," Marion exclaimed with exaltation; and leaving precipitately he added: "I shall run for my friend Eustace, and then to our barks! to our barks!" As Marion was rushing out of the room, several chiefs of legions and cohorts, having learned of the landing of the Franks from the officer who brought the tidings to the camp--tidings that rapidly spread among the soldiers--hastened to Victorin in order to receive the orders of their general. "Place yourselves at the head of your detachments," he said to them, "and march to the parade ground. I shall join you there and assign you your posts in battle. I wish first to confer with my mother." "We well know your valor and military genius," answered the oldest of the chiefs of the cohorts, a robust old man with a white beard. "Your mother, the angel of Gaul, watches by your side; we shall await your orders confident of victory." "Mother," said the young general in touching accents, "your pardon, here before all, and a kiss from you will give me the needed courage for this day of bloody battle!" "The excesses of my son have often saddened my heart, as they have the hearts of you all who have known him since his earliest days," said Victoria to the chiefs of the cohorts; "I hope you will forgive him as I do." Saying this she clasped her son passionately to her heart. "Infamous calumnies against Victorin have floated about the camp," the old captain proceeded to say. "We gave them no credence; but, less enlightened than ourselves, the soldier is ever hasty in censure as he is in praise. Follow the instructions of your august mother, Victorin, and no longer offer a handle to calumny. We shall wait for your orders on the parade ground; rely upon us, as we do upon you." "You speak to me like a father," answered Victorin deeply moved by the simple and dignified words of the old captain. "I shall hearken to your words as a son; your old experience guided me on the field of battle when I was still a child; your example made me the soldier that I am; to-day and always I shall strive to approve myself worthy of you and of my mother--worthy of Gaul--" "It is your duty, seeing that we glory in you and her," rejoined the old captain; and addressing Victoria: "Will the army not see you before we march to battle? To the soldiers and to us your presence always is a good omen--and your good words fire our courage." "I shall accompany my son as far as the parade ground--let the battle and triumph follow! Once the Roman eagles circled over our enslaved nation! The Gallic cock drove them away! And it will again drive away this cloud of birds of prey that seek to swoop down upon our Gaul!" cried the Mother of the Camps in so proud and superb a transport that, at the moment, I believed I saw before me the goddess of our land and of liberty. "By Hesus, shall the barbarous Franks conquer us? Before that happens neither a lance, nor a sword, nor a scythe, nor a club, nor a stone can have been left in Gaul! By Hesus! We shall triumph over the barbarian Franks!" At these brave words, the chiefs of the legions, sharing the enthusiasm of Victoria, spontaneously drew their swords, struck them against one another, and cried in chorus the war cry that they had more than once intoned: "By the iron of our swords, Victoria, we swear to you that Gaul shall remain free!--or you will never see us again!" "Yes, by your beloved and august name, Victoria, we shall fight to the last drop of our blood." And all left the room crying: "To arms, our legions!" "To arms, our cohorts!" During the whole scene, in which the military genius of Victorin, his tender deference for his mother, the controlling influence that both she and he exercised over the chiefs of the army were displayed, I more than once cast a covert look at the Governor of Gascony, who had withdrawn into a corner of the room. Was it fear at the approach of the Franks? Was it secret rage at witnessing how idle were his calumnies against Victorin?--because, despite the blandness and skilfulness of his defense, my suspicions were not lulled to sleep--I know not; but his livid and disturbed face grew by degrees more horrid to behold. Doubtlessly, evil thoughts and impulses, that he meant to keep concealed, came to the surface in that moment. Immediately after the departure of the chiefs, and as the Mother of the Camps turned to speak with the governor, the latter strove to resume his customary mask of mildness. Making an effort to smile he said to Victoria: "You and your son are endowed with a sort of magic power. According to my feeble understanding nothing can be more alarming than this march of the Frankish army upon our camp, while neither of you seem to be particularly concerned, and you deliberate as calmly as if the battle was to be to-morrow. And yet, I must confess, the tranquility that you display under such circumstances inspires me with blind confidence." "There is nothing more natural than our tranquility," replied Victorin. "I have calculated the time that it will take the Franks to cross the Rhine and disembark their troops, form their columns and arrive at a place that they are forced to cross. To hasten my movements would be a mistake, a grave strategic error. Delay serves my purposes well." Victorin thereupon turned to me: "Schanvoch, go and put on your armor; I shall have orders for you after I shall have conferred with my mother." "You will join me here, before proceeding to the parade ground," Victoria said to me. "I also have some recommendations to make to you." "I almost forgot to notify you of an important thing," said I. "The sister of one of the Frankish kings feared that her brother would put her to death, and fled the camp of the barbarians. She accompanied me to ours." "The woman can serve as a hostage," remarked Tetrik. "It is a valuable capture. She should be kept a prisoner." "No," I answered the governor. "I promised the woman that she would be free in the Gallic camp, and I assured her of Victoria's protection." "I shall keep the promise that you made," replied my foster-sister. "Where is the woman?" "At my house." "Have her sent to me after the departure of our troops. I wish to see her." I left the room together with the Governor of Gascony. As I stepped out several bards and druids, who, adhering to our ancient custom, always marched at the head of the armies in order to encourage the troops with their songs, stepped in to confer with Victoria and Victorin. CHAPTER XII. TO BATTLE! Upon leaving Victoria's house I hastened home to arm myself and take my horse. From all parts of the camp trumpets and clarions were heard blowing signals. When I entered my house I found Sampso and my wife, whom the tidings of the landing of the Franks had speedily reached, busily engaged getting my arms ready. Ellen was vigorously furbishing my steel cuirass, the polish of which was soiled by the fire that was kindled upon it the day before by order of Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle and powerful king of the Franks. "You are truly a soldier's wife," I said smiling to Ellen, seeing her provoked at not being able to restore the tarnished spot to the brilliancy of the rest of the cuirass. "The brilliancy of your husband's armor is your own greatest ornament." "If we were not so much pressed for time," Ellen answered, "we would have succeeded in furbishing off this black spot. Sampso and I have for the last hour been wondering how you managed to blacken and tarnish your armor in this manner." "They look like traces of fire," said Sampso, who was actively engaged polishing my casque with a piece of smooth skin. "Only fire can tarnish the polish of steel in that way." "You have guessed right, Sampso," I answered her laughing and taking up my sword, my battle axe and my dagger; "there was a big fire in the camp of the Franks; those hospitable folks insisted that I draw near to the brasier; the evening was cool, and I hugged the fire a little too closely." "I perceive that the announcement of battle throws you into a mirthful mood, my Schanvoch," put in my wife. "That is like you, I have long noticed it." "And the announcement of battle does not sadden you, my Ellen, because you have a stout heart." "I draw my strength from the faith of our fathers, my Schanvoch. It teaches me that we proceed to live in other worlds in the company of those whom we have loved in this," Ellen sweetly answered me while she and Sampso helped to buckle on my cuirass. "That is why I put into practice our mothers' maxim that the Gallic woman never grows pale when her brave husband departs for battle, and that she reddens with joy at his return. And if he does not return, she is proud at the knowledge that he died as a brave man, and every evening she says to herself: 'One more day has passed, one more step is taken towards those unknown worlds, where we shall meet our dear ones again.'" "Let us not talk of absence but of return," said Sampso, offering me my casque, which she had so carefully polished with her own hands that she could have seen her sweet face in the burnished steel. "You have always been so lucky in war, Schanvoch, that I feel sure you will return to us." "I rely on your faith, dear Sampso. I depart happy in the knowledge of your sisterly affection, and of Ellen's love. I shall return happy, above all if I shall have been able to leave a fresh mark on the face of a certain king of those Frankish skinners of human bodies, as a token of acknowledgment for the loyalty of the hospitality that he yesterday bestowed upon me. But here I am armed. A kiss to my little Alguen, and then to horse!" As I was about to proceed to my wife's room, Sampso held me back, saying: "Brother--what of the strange woman?" "You are right, Sampso; I forgot all about her." As a matter of precaution I had locked Elwig's room. I knocked at the door and called out to her: "Shall I come in?" I received no answer. Alarmed at the silence I opened the door. Elwig sat on the edge of the couch with her head in her hands, in the identical posture that I saw her last. "Did sleep bring you rest?" "There is no more sleep for me!" she answered brusquely. "Riowag is dead! I weep for my lover!" "My wife and sister will take you at noon to Victoria the Great. She will treat you as a friend. I announced to her your arrival in our camp." The sister of Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle, shrugged her shoulders with indifference. "Do you need anything?" I asked her. "Would you eat or drink?" "I want water--I am thirsty--" Despite the priestess' refusal to eat, Sampso went for some provisions--a pitcher of water, some bread and fruits--and placed them near Elwig, who remained motionless and mute. I again locked the door and gave the key to my wife, saying: "You and Sampso will take the poor woman to Victoria at noon. But be careful that she is not left alone with our child--" "Do you fear anything?" "Everything is to be feared from those barbarian women; they are as wily as they are ferocious. I killed her lover in defending myself against him; she is quite capable of strangling my child out of vengeance." You came running in at that moment, my child. Hearing my voice from your mother's room, you left your bed and came half naked to me with your little arms outstretched, smiling with pleasure at the sight of my armor, the brilliancy of which pleased your eyes. Time pressed; I embraced you, your mother and aunt tenderly. I then proceeded to saddle my horse, my good and strong Tom-Bras,[2] whom I named in remembrance of our ancestor Joel, who also gave the name of Tom-Bras to the spirited stallion that he rode at the battle of Vannes. Sampso and your mother, the latter of whom took you in her arms, accompanied me to the stable. Your aunt helped me to put on the bridle, and, caressing his sinewy neck, said to the war steed: "Tom-Bras, do not leave your master in danger; save him with your swiftness, if need be; defend him like the brave Tom-Bras of old who, as he bore the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, attacked the Romans with his hoofs and teeth." "Dear Sampso," I answered smiling as I leaped into the saddle, "do not give Tom-Bras bad advice by urging him to save me with his swiftness. A good war horse is rapid in pursuit, slow in flight. As to plying his teeth and hoofs, he does that to perfection; the Frankish horse that I captured, and that he almost tore to shreds in the stable, can testify to that. Tom-Bras is like his master; he abhors the Franks. Adieu, dear Sampso! Adieu, my beloved Ellen! Adieu, my little Alguen!" Casting one more look at your mother who held you in her arms, I departed at a gallop to the parade ground, where the army was assembling. The distant sound of the clarions, and the neighing of the horses, to which he responded, enlivened Tom-Bras. He bounded with vigor. I calmed him with my voice, I patted his neck so as to control his buoyant spirits and reserve his energy for the hard day's work ahead. When I was near the parade ground I perceived Victoria about a hundred paces ahead of me. She rode with an escort of several mounted officers. I quickly joined them. Mounted on a palfrey, Tetrik rode to the left of the Mother of the Camps; at her right rode a druid bard named Rolla, whom she greatly esteemed for his bravery, his noble character and his poetic talents. Several other druids were scattered among the various army corps, and were to march beside the chiefs at the head of their several detachments. Coifed in the light brass helmet of the antique Minerva, which was surmounted with the Gallic cock in gilt bronze holding an expiring lark under his spurs, Victoria sat with proud ease her beautiful steed, whose satin coat shimmered like silver. The housings of the prancing animal were, like its bridle, of scarlet color, they almost reached the ground and were partially covered by the long black robe of the Mother of the Camps, who seemed to inspire her mount with her own self-restraint and confidence. Her beautiful and virile visage seemed animated with martial ardor. A light flush suffused her cheeks; her bosom heaved; her large blue eyes shone with matchless brilliancy, under their long black lashes. Without being noticed by her, I joined the riders of her escort. With their banners to the breeze and their platoons of trumpeters at their head, the cohorts passed by us one after the other on their way to the parade ground. The officers saluted Victoria with their swords, the banners dipped before her, and soldiers, captains and chiefs, in short, the whole armed force cried in enthusiastic chorus: "Greeting to Victoria the Great!" "Greeting to the Mother of the Camps!" Among the first soldiers of one of the cohorts that passed us, I recognized Douarnek, one of the four oarsmen of the day before who was wounded in the back by an arrow. Despite his recent wound, the brave Breton marched in his place. I pricked my horse, drew near him and said: "Douarnek, the gods send a propitious opportunity to Victorin to prove to the army that, unworthy calumnies to the contrary notwithstanding, he is still worthy of his post." "You are right, Schanvoch," the Breton answered. "Let Victorin win this battle, as he won the others, and in the joy of their triumph the soldiers will acclaim their general and forget many a disagreeable thing. We shall meet again, Schanvoch!" Some Roman legions, our then allies, shared the enthusiasm of our own troops. As they passed under the eyes of Victoria their acclamations also greeted her. The whole army, the cavalry on the two wings, the infantry in the center, was soon gathered on the parade ground, a vast field that lay without the camp. It was bounded by the Rhine on one side, on the other by the slopes of a high hill. A wide road was seen at a distance. It wound its way and disappeared behind some woody slopes. The casques, the arms, the banners, all of which were surmounted by the Gallic cock wrought in gilt copper, glistened in the rays of the sun, and presented the bright and cheerful sight that does so much to raise the soldier's spirits. From the moment that she entered the parade ground Victoria put her horse to a gallop in order to join her son, who, surrounded by a group of chiefs to whom he was issuing orders, was conspicuous in the very center of the field. No sooner had the Mother of the Camps, whose brass helmet, black robe and white steed pointed her out to all eyes, appeared before the front ranks of the army, than one loud, vast, ringing cry from fifty thousand soldiers' breasts saluted Victoria the Great! "May that cry be heard of Hesus," my foster-sister said to the druid bard with deep emotion. "May the gods grant Gaul a new victory! Justice and right are on our side! We are not after conquest; we only defend our own soil, our hearths, our families, and our freedom!" "Our cause is holy among holy causes!" answered Rolla, the druid bard. "Hesus will render our arms invincible!" We rode up to Victorin. It seems to me I never saw him handsomer, or of a more martial bearing than on that morning, clad in his brilliant steel armor and with his casque, ornamented, like his mother's, by the Gallic cock and the expiring lark. Victoria herself, as she approached her son, could not keep from turning towards me and betraying her maternal pride with a look that, perhaps, only I understood. Several officers, the bearers of the young general's orders to the different army corps, left at a gallop in different directions. I drew near my foster-sister and said to her in a low voice: "You reproach your son with no longer displaying that cool bravery that must distinguish the general of an army. And yet, watch and see how cool and collected he is. Do you not read in his masculine face the wise and cautious cast of mind of the general who will not rashly risk his soldiers' lives, or the fate of his country?" "Your speech is sooth, Schanvoch; I saw him just as cool and collected at the great battle of Offenbach--one of his finest, one of his most fruitful victories. It was that victory that restored to us the Rhine for our frontier. It drove the accursed Franks to the other bank of the river." "And to-day's battle will supplement the victory won at Offenbach, if, as I expect we shall, we drive off the barbarians for all time from our frontier." "Brother," replied my foster-sister, "as always, you will not leave Victorin's side?" "I promise you." "He is now calm. But once the action is engaged, I fear the ardor of his blood, and his passion for battle. You know, Schanvoch, I do not fear peril for Victorin, I am the daughter, wife and mother of soldiers; all I fear is that, carried away by the heat of action, and anxious, even at the risk of his life, to achieve great deeds, he put the success of this day in jeopardy, and by his death endanger the safety of Gaul, that may otherwise be firmly established by to-day's action." "I shall use my full powers to convince Victorin that a general must preserve himself for his army." "Schanvoch," my foster-sister remarked with a tremulous voice, "you always are the best of brothers!" And looking towards her son, evidently anxious that none but myself be made aware of the anxious thoughts that struggled in her maternal breast, and her doubts concerning the firmness of his character, she added again, in a low voice: "You will watch over him?" "As over my own son." After the young general issued his last orders, he alighted from his horse the moment he saw his mother, walked over to where she was, and said: "The hour has come, mother. I have taken with the other captains the last dispositions on the plan of battle that I submitted to you and which you approved. I have reserved ten thousand men under the command of Robert, one of the most experienced chiefs, for the protection of the camp. He is to receive orders from you. May the gods look down favorably upon our arms. Adieu, mother. I shall do my best--" Saying this he bent his knee. "Adieu, my son. Come not back, unless you come back victorious over the barbarians!" As she said these words, the Mother of the Camps stooped down from her horse and reached her hand to Victorin, who kissed it and rose. "Be brave, my young Caesar!" the Governor of Gascony called out to my foster-sister's son. "The fate of Gaul is in your hands--and, thanks to the gods, your hands are powerful. Furnish me the opportunity to write an ode on this fresh victory." Victorin remounted his horse. A moment later our army set itself upon the march, with the scouts on horseback riding ahead of the vanguard. Victorin placed himself at the head of the army. We had the bank of the Rhine on our right. A few light bodies of mounted archers rode forward as scouts, to the end of guarding our left wing against a surprise. Victorin called me to his side; I drove my horse abreast his own, and as he hastened the step of his mount we were soon beyond the escort that accompanied him. "Schanvoch," he said to me, "you are an old and experienced soldier. I wish to explain my plans to you. I confided the plan to the chief who is to take my place in the event of my being killed. I wish you also to be posted on it. You will be all the better able to help in its execution." "I listen. Speak, Victorin." "It is now nearly three hours since the rafts of the Franks were seen by our scouts at about the middle of the river. Those rafts, towed by barks and loaded with troops navigate slowly. It must have taken them fully an hour to reach the bank and disembark on this side of the Rhine--" "Your calculation is correct. But why did you not hasten the march of the army in order to arrive at the spot before the Franks disembarked? Landing forces are always in disorder. Their disorder would have favored our attack." "Two reasons kept me from doing so. I shall tell them to you. How long, do you calculate, did it take the officer, who notified us of the enemy's approach, to ride in all haste from our advanced posts to Mayence?" "About an hour and a half. It is nearly five leagues from there to Mayence." "And how long will it take an army to cover the same distance, even at forced marches, but not rapid enough to be tired out and breathless when it reaches the spot and offers battle?" "It would take about three hours and a half." "Accordingly, you will perceive, Schanvoch, that it would have been impossible for us to have arrived in time to attack the Franks at the moment of their landing. Those barbarians' lack of discipline is surprising. They must have consumed considerable time in forming their ranks. This will enable us to arrive before and wait for them at the defile of Armstadt--the only military route open to them in order to attack our camp, unless they throw themselves across the marsh and the forests, where their cavalry, their principal arm, could not deploy." "That is true." "I temporized in order to give the Franks time to approach the defile." "If they undertake the passage, they are lost." "I hope so. With our swords in their loins we shall drive them back towards the river bank. Our hundred and sixty well armed barks, that left port under my orders and at the same time that we started on the march, will scatter the barbarians' rafts and cut off their retreat. Besides that, Captain Marion crossed the river with a picked body of men; he will effect a juncture with the friendly tribes on the other bank, and will march straight upon the Frankish camp, where the enemy must have left a strong reserve force together with all their wagons. These will all be destroyed!" Victorin was thus engaged in unfolding to me his ably conceived plan of battle, when we saw several of the scouts, who were sent forward, running back to us at full gallop. One of these reined in his foaming steed and cried out to Victorin: "The army of the Franks is advancing. It can be seen at a distance from the top of the hills. Their scouts approached the defile; they were all shot down by the arrows of our archers who were ambushed behind the shrubs. Not one of the Frankish scouts escaped with his life." "Well done," replied Victorin. "Those scouts would have ridden back and warned the Frankish army of our approach. It might not then have entered the defile. But I shall ride forward and judge the enemy's position myself. Follow me, Schanvoch!" Victorin put his horse to a gallop; I did likewise. The escort followed us; we quickly overtook and passed our vanguard, to whom Victorin gave the order to halt. We arrived at a place that dominated the defile of Armstadt. The rather broad road lay at our feet, hemmed in by two steep escarpments. The one to the right seemed cut with the pick, it rose so perpendicular over the road and formed a sort of promontory on the side of the Rhine. The escarpment to the left consisted of a rocky series of shelves, and served, so to speak, as the basis to the vast plateau through the heart of which the deep and wide gully was cut. The gully or road dipped gently till it ran out into a vast plain, bordered to the east and north by the curve of the river, to the west by woods and marshes, and behind us by the elevated plateau where our troops were ordered to halt. We presently distinguished at a great distance from where we stood and down in the direction of the plain, a large and confused black mass. It was the army of the Franks. Victorin remained silent for a few seconds; he attentively examined the disposition of the enemy's forces and the field at our feet. "My calculation and expectation did not deceive me," he observed. "The Frankish army is twice as large as ours. If their tactics were less savage, instead of entering the defile, as they will surely do, they would, despite the difficulty that accompanies that sort of assault, climb the plateau at several places simultaneously, and thereby compel me to divide my much inferior forces in order to attack them at a large number of places. Nevertheless, for greater certainty, and so as to lure the enemy into the defile, I shall resort to a ruse of war. Let us return to our vanguard; Schanvoch, the hour of battle has sounded!" "And such an hour," I answered, "is always solemn!" "Yes," he replied melancholically, "such an hour is always solemn, especially for the general, who, at this bloody game of war, plays with the lives of his soldiers and has his country's fate for stake. Come, let us ride back, Schanvoch--and may my mother's star protect me!" I rode back with Victorin to our troops, asking myself due to what singular contradiction that young man, always so firm and so calculating at the great crises of his life, showed himself below mediocrity in the power to combat his foibles. CHAPTER XIII. THE BATTLE OF THE RHINE. The young general was not long in rejoining the vanguard. After a hurried conference with the officers, the troops took their posts of battle. Three cohorts of infantry, each one thousand strong, received orders to march through the defile into the open plain, engage the vanguard of the Franks, and draw the bulk of the enemy's army into the dangerous passage. Victorin, several officers and myself stood grouped upon one of the highest bluffs that dominated the field on which the scrimmage was to take place. From where we stood we had a complete view of the immense Frankish army. Massed in a compact body, the bulk of their forces was still far away. A swarm of horsemen rode in advance and extended beyond the two wings. Our three cohorts had barely emerged from the pass into the plain when the Frankish horsemen rushed like a swarm of hornets towards them from all sides and sought to envelop them. Intent only upon taking the lead of one another, these horsemen gave the rein to their mounts, and tumultuously, without any order whatever, galloped towards our troops. When the former had drawn near enough, the latter formed themselves into a wedge in order to sustain the first shock of the cavalry; they were thereupon to feign a retreat back into the defile. The Frankish horsemen emitted such loud yells that, despite the considerable distance that separated us from the plain and the elevation of the plateau, their savage cries reached us like a muffled roar pierced from time to time by the distant notes of their wind instruments. As ordered, our soldiers did not yield to the first impetuous attack. In an instant we could see through the thick cloud of dust, raised by the Frankish horse, only a confused mass, in the midst of which our soldiers could be distinguished by their brilliant armor. Presently our troops began to operate their retreat towards the defile, yielding the ground before them foot by foot to the swarm of Frankish assailants, who received every moment fresh accessions from the cavalry of their vanguard, while their main body began to move at a quickened step. "By heaven!" cried Victorin, his fiery eyes fixed upon the field, "our brave Firmian who commands those three cohorts seems to have forgotten in his ardor for the fray that he was steadily to fall back into the defile so as to draw the enemy in after him. Firmian is no longer retreating; he has stopped and does not budge back an inch--he will cause his troops to be uselessly sacrificed--" And addressing one of the officers: "Ride quick to Ruper, and order him to proceed with his three veteran cohorts to the support of Firmian's retreat. Ruper is to order the retreat to be made rapidly. The bulk of the Frankish army is now only a hundred bow-shots from the entrance of the defile." The officer departed at a gallop. Obedient to the orders that he carried, the three veteran cohorts speedily emerged from the defile at the double quick; they hastened to join and sustain Firmian's troops; a little later the feigned retreat was effected in good order. Seeing the Gauls yield, the Franks set up a shout of savage joy, and charged impetuously upon our cohorts. The Frankish vanguard was soon close to the mouth of the defile. Suddenly Victorin grew pale. Anxiety was depicted on his face as he cried: "By my father's sword! Can I have been mistaken as to the barbarians' plans? Do you perceive their movement?" "Yes," I said, "instead of following their vanguard into the defile, the Frankish army has halted; it is forming into numerous separate columns of attack, and these are marching towards the plateau! Malediction! They are resorting to the skilful manoeuvre that you feared. Oh, we have taught the barbarians the art of war!" Victorin did not reply. He seemed to be counting the enemy's columns of attack. Thereupon he galloped back to our main army and cried: "My boys! It is not now in the defile that we are to await these barbarians--we shall have to fight them in the open field. Fall upon them from the height of the plateau that they are seeking to climb--drive their hordes into the Rhine! They are three to our one--so much the better! This evening, when we shall be back in camp, our mother, Victoria, will say to us: 'Children, you were brave!'" At these words, Rolla, the druid bard, improvised the following war song, which he struck up with a powerful, resonant voice: "This morning we say:-- 'How many are there of these barbarous hordes, Who thievishly aspire to rob us of land. Of homes, of wives, and of sunshine? Yes, how many are there of these Franks?' "This evening we'll say:-- 'Make answer, thou sod, red drenched In the blood of the stranger; Make answer, ye deep-rolling waves of the Rhine; Make answer, ye crows that flutter for carrion, Make answer--make answer! How many were they, These robbers of land, of homes, of wives and of sunshine? Aye, how many were there, Of these blood-thirsty, ravenous Franks?'" And the several detachments of our troops ran up the plateau at the double quick to the refrain of the chant that flew from mouth to mouth until it reached the rearmost ranks. Our army was promptly deployed on the crest of the plateau that dominated the vast plain whose edge was bordered by the curve of the Rhine in the distant horizon. Instead of awaiting the attack from that advantageous position, Victorin wished, by sheer audacity, to terrify the enemy. Despite our numerical inferiority, he issued the orders to pounce down upon the Franks from the crest of our elevated position. At the same moment, the enemy's column, which, deceived by the feigned retreat of our cohorts, had allowed itself to be lured into the defile, was being hurled back into the plain by the Gallic troops which confronted them. Our whole army thereupon reassumed the offensive, and not unlike an avalanche our full forces poured down from the summit of the plateau. The battle began; it was engaged all along the line. I promised Victoria not to leave the side of her son. Nevertheless, such was the impetuosity with which, from the very start of the action, he dashed upon the enemy at the head of a legion of cavalry, that the flux and reflux of the melee at first separated me from him. We were at the time engaged hand to hand with a picked, well mounted and well armed body of Franks. Their soldiers wore neither casque nor cuirass; but their double jackets of hides covered with long hair and their iron-lined fur caps, were the equivalent of our own armor. These Franks fought with fury, often with stupid ferocity. I saw several allow themselves to be killed like animals while, at the hottest of the battle, they madly sought to hack off the head of some fallen Gaul with their axes in order to make to themselves a trophy of the gory spoils. I was defending myself against two of these horsemen, and my hands were full; a third barbarian, a warrior who had been unhorsed and disarmed, clinched my leg and sought to pull me off the saddle, and as he found his efforts vain bit me with such rage in the ankle that his teeth cut through the leather of my gaiter and penetrated to the very bone. Without neglecting my two mounted adversaries, I found time to deal a blow with my mace upon this third Frank's skull. Freed from him, I was vainly endeavoring to discover and join Victorin, when I descried Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle, only a few paces from me, in the melee which his gigantic stature overtowered. At the sight of that man, there thronged to my mind the recollection of the outrageous insults heaped upon me only the day before, which I had only partly avenged by smiting him over the head with a firebrand; my blood, already warm with the ardor of the fray, now seethed. Over and above the anger that Neroweg inspired in me by reason of his cowardly insults of the previous day, I experienced for the man an unexplainable, mysterious, profound hatred. It was as if I saw in him the incarnation of that thievish and ferocious race that sought to subjugate us. It was to me, strange and unaccountable as it may seem, as if I abhorred Neroweg by reason of the future as much as of the present; as if that hatred was to perpetuate itself not only between our two races of Franks and Gauls, but also between our families, individually. What shall I say to you, my child! I even forgot the promise I made to my foster-sister of watching over her son. Instead of any longer striving to find and join Victorin, I now only strove to draw close to Neroweg. I was bent upon having that Frank's life--he alone, among so many other enemies, incited in me personally the thirst for blood. I happened at the time to find myself surrounded by several horsemen of the legion at the head of which Victorin had just charged the Frankish army with such impetuosity. Our troops were steadily pushing forward at that point, the enemy was being crowded towards the Rhine. Two of the soldiers in front of me fell under the heavy francisque of the Terrible Eagle. I now saw him across that human breach. Clad in a Gallic armor, the spoils of one of our captains who was killed at one of the previous battles, Neroweg wore a casque of gilded bronze, the visor of which partly covered his face, tattooed in blue and scarlet. His long copper colored beard reached down to the iron corselet that he had donned over his jacket of hides. Thick fleeces of sheep, held fast by criss-crossing strips of cloth, covered his legs from the thighs down to the feet. He rode a savage stallion from the forests of Germany, whose pale yellow coat was spotted with black. The tufts of the animal's thick mane fell below his square chest; his long tail, that streamed in the wind, lashed his sinewy haunches when he reared impatient under the restraint of his bit and silver-wrought reins, also the proceeds of some Gallic spoils. A wooden buckler ribbed with iron and roughly painted in yellow and red stripes, the colors of Neroweg's banner, covered the left arm of the Terrible Eagle. In his right hand he wielded his heavy francisque that now dripped blood. From his belt hung a sort of large butcher's knife with a wooden handle, together with a magnificent Roman sword with a hilt of chased gold, doubtlessly the fruit of some raid. Neroweg emitted a roar of rage as he recognized me. Rising in his stirrups he cried out: "The man of the bay horse!" Thereupon, striking the flank of his courser with the flat of his axe, he caused the animal to clear with an enormous leap both the bodies and mounts of the fallen horsemen who lay between us. The leap was so violent that when his horse touched ground again, the animal's head and chest struck the head and chest of my own mount. At the heavy shock the two animals were thrown upon their haunches and both fell over. Dazed at first by my fall, I quickly disengaged myself, took my stand firmly upon my feet and drew my sword, my mace having slipped from my hands with my fall. On his part, having had to disentangle himself from under his horse, as I was forced to do, Neroweg also rose to his feet and precipitated himself upon me. The chin-band of his casque had snapped with his fall, his head was bare, his thick red hair, tied over his head, floated behind him like the mane of a horse. "Ha! This time, you Gallic dog," he cried out as he ground his teeth and aimed at me with his axe a furious blow that I parried, "this time I shall have your life and your skin!" "And I, Frankish wolf, I shall once more put my mark on your face, whether dead or alive, so that the devil will recognize you!" For a long time we fought with maddening fury, all the while exchanging insults that redoubled our rage. "Dog!" cried Neroweg. "You carried off my sister!" "I took her from your infamous love! In the bestiality of your unclean race it couples like animals--brother with sister!" "Dare you insult my race, you bastard dog! Half Roman, half Gallic! My race will subjugate yours, vile revolted slaves! We shall clap the yoke back upon your necks--and we shall take possession of your goods, your lands, and your wives!" "Just look yonder at your routed army, Oh, great king! Just take a look at your packs of Frankish wolves, as cowardly as they are ferocious--just look at them, fleeing from the fangs of the Gallic dogs!" It was in the midst of such torrents of invectives that we fought with heightening rage without either being able to wound the other. Many a furiously aimed blow had glided harmlessly down our cuirasses; we seemed to manage our swords with equal dexterity. Suddenly and despite all the maddened rage of our duel, a strange spectacle drew away our attention for an instant. After our horses had rolled to the ground under the shock that they both received, they also rose to their feet. Immediately, as is usually the case with stallions, they rushed at each other neighing wildly, and with flashing eyes sought to tear each other to pieces. My brave Tom-Bras had raised himself on his haunches, and, holding the other steed by the neck between his teeth, was frantically battering his belly with his hoofs. Nettled at seeing his horse at the mercy of mine, Neroweg cried out without either he or I intermitting our battle: "Folg! Will you allow that Gallic swine to vanquish you? Defend yourself with your hoofs and teeth! Tear him to pieces!" "Steady, Tom-Bras!" I cried out in turn. "Disfigure and kill that horse, as I shall disfigure and kill his master." I had hardly uttered these words when the Frank's sword penetrated my thigh between skin and flesh, and it did so at the very moment when I dealt him a blow over the head that would have been mortal but for the backward move that Neroweg made in withdrawing his sword from my thigh. My weapon thus missed its full aim, but struck him over the eye, and, by a singular accident, plowed his face on the side opposite the one which already bore my mark. "I told you so! Dead or living the other side of your face would be also marked by me!" I cried at the moment when Neroweg, whose eye was put out by my blow and whose face was bathed in blood, precipitated himself upon me, roaring with pain and rage like an infuriated lion. Having calmly made up my mind to kill the man, I did not allow myself to be carried away with elation, but met his wrathful onset by throwing myself on the defensive, and watched for the opportunity to deal him a certain and mortal wound. We were thus engaged when Neroweg's stallion rolled to the ground under the feet of Tom-Bras, whose rage seemed to increase with his success. The animal almost fell upon us. Half a foot nearer, and we would both have been thrown off our feet. At the same instant, a legion of our reserve cavalry, the muffled sound of whose approaching tramp had struck my oars shortly before, hove in sight. In the impetuosity of its headlong dash, the heavily armed cavalry legion rode rough-shod and trampled over everything that lay in its path. The legion was three ranks deep, and approached with the swiftness of a gale. Both Neroweg and myself were doomed to be crushed to dust; the legion's line of battle was two hundred paces long; even if I had time to leap upon my horse, it would have been next to impossible to get in time out of the way of that long line of cavalry by endeavoring to ride, however swiftly, beyond the reach of either of its wings. Escape seemed impossible from the threatened shock. Nevertheless, I undertook it, despite my chagrin at not having been allowed time to despatch the Frankish king--so inveterate was my hatred of him! I took quick advantage of the accident, that, due to the fall of Neroweg's horse, interrupted our battle a second before, and I leaped upon the back of Tom-Bras that was near me. It required a rude handling of the reins and of the flat of my sword before I could cause my courser to desist from his infuriated assault upon the other stallion that he held under and kicked and bit unmercifully. Finally I succeeded. The long line of cavalry reaching far to my right and left was now only a few paces from me. I rushed ahead of it, adding with my voice and my spurs to the speed of Tom-Bras's rapid gallop; I rode on, keeping well in the lead of the legion, and from time to time casting a look behind to see the Frankish king, and what became of him. With his visage streaming blood he sought distractedly to run after me and wildly brandished his sword. Suddenly I saw him vanish in the cloud of dust raised by the rapid gallop of the legion of cavalry. "Hesus hearkened to my prayer!" I cried out. "Neroweg must be dead. The legion has trampled over his body." Thanks to Tom-Bras's exceptional swiftness, I was soon far enough in advance of the cavalry line that followed me to think of imparting to my course a direction that enabled me to take my place to the right of the legion's line. I immediately addressed one of the officers, inquiring after Victorin and the turn of the battle. He answered: "Victorin is fighting like a hero. A rider who brought to our reserve the orders to advance said to us that never before did the general reveal such consummate skill in his manoeuvres. Being more than twice our numbers, and above all displaying unwonted military skill, the Franks fought stubbornly. All the indications are that the day is ours, but it shall have been paid for dearly. Thousands of Gauls will have bitten the dust." The officer's report was correct. Victorin again fought with a soldier's intrepidity and the consummate skill of an experienced general. I found him, his heart overflowing with joy, in the midst of the melee. Miraculously enough, he had received only a slight wound. His reserve forces, skilfully managed by him, decided the fate of the battle. The routed Franks, rolled back three leagues with our triumphant forces pressing close upon their heels, were being crowded towards the Rhine despite the stubbornness of their retreat. After enormous losses a portion of their hordes were hurled headlong into the river, others succeeded in regaining their rafts in disorder, and in towing them with their barks from the shore. But at that moment the flotilla of a hundred and sixty large vessels fell upon the fleeing Franks on the river. Upon orders from Victorin, the flotilla had sped forward, doubled a tongue of land behind which it had kept itself concealed until then, and came into action. After a number of volleys of arrows that threw the Franks on the rafts into utter demoralization, our barks boarded the rafts from all sides. The episode that took place on the floating battlefield was the last, but not the least bloody of that day. The barks that towed the Frankish rafts were sunk under the blows of battle axes; the small number of Franks who survived this supreme struggle gave themselves over to the mercy of the river; clinging to some of the planks that were loosened from their rafts, they were carried helplessly down stream. Although cruelly decimated, still our army thrilled with the ardor of the fray as, massed along the bluffs of the river, it witnessed the enemy's disastrous rout, upon which the rays of the westering sun shed their parting light. At that sublime moment, the soldiers struck up in chorus the heroic chant of the bard to the words and melody of which they had stepped to battle in the morning: "This morning we say:-- 'How many are there of these barbarous hordes, Who thievishly aspire to rob us of land, Of homes, of wives, and of sunshine? Yea, how many are there of these Franks?' "This evening we'll say:-- 'Make answer, thou sod, red drenched In the blood of the stranger; Make answer, ye deep-rolling waves of the Rhine; Make answer, ye crows that flutter for carrion, Make answer--make answer! How many were they, These robbers of land, of homes, of wives and of sunshine? Aye, how many were there, Of these blood-thirsty, ravenous Franks?'" The last strophes of the refrain were falling from the lips of our soldiers when, from the other side of the river--which was so wide at that place that the opposite bank could hardly be distinguished, veiled moreover, as it was by the rising evening haze--I noticed a gleam that, rapidly gaining in brightness and extent, soon spanned the horizon like the reflection of a gigantic conflagration. Victorin immediately cried: "Our brave Marion has carried out his plans at the head of his picked men and the allied tribes on the other side of the Rhine. He marched with them upon the camp of the Franks. The last reserve force of the barbarians must have been cut to pieces, and their huts and wagons given over to the flames! By Hesus! Rid at last of the neighborhood of those savage marauders, Gaul will now enjoy the sweets of a friendly peace! Oh, my mother! Your prayers have been heard!" Victorin had just uttered these words with a face beaming with bliss, when I saw a considerable body of our soldiers belonging to different cavalry and infantry corps of the army marching slowly towards him. All of these soldiers were old men. Douarnek marched at their head. When the body had drawn near, Douarnek advanced alone a few steps and said in a grave and firm voice: "Listen, Victorin! Each legion of cavalry, each cohort of infantry, chose its oldest soldier. They are the comrades who accompany me yonder. Like myself, they have known you from the day of your birth; like myself they have seen you as a baby in the arms of Victoria, the Mother of the Camps, the august mother of the soldiers. We long have loved you out of love both for her and yourself. We acclaimed you our general and one of the two Chiefs of Gaul. We, veterans in war, have loved you as our son while we obeyed you as our father. And then came the day when, ever obeying you as our general and a Chief of Gaul, our love for you was less--" "And why did your love for me decline?" Victorin interrupted, struck by the solemn tone of the old soldier. "Why, pray, did your love for me decline?" "Because we respected you less. But if you have faults, we also have ours; to-day's battle proves it to us. We have come to make the admission to you." "Let us hear it," replied Victorin affectionately; "let us hear what are my faults and which are yours!" "Your faults, Victorin, are these--you love too much, much more than is meet, both wine and pretty girls!" "By all the sweethearts that you have had, my old Douarnek, by all the cups that you have emptied and that you will still empty, why such words on the evening of a battle that we have won?" merrily answered Victorin, who was slowly returning to his natural weakness, now no longer held under by concern for the battle. "In truth! There was no need for you and your comrades to put yourselves to the trouble of reproaching me with my peccadillos. Speak up frankly, are these reproaches that are usual from soldier to soldier?" "From soldier to soldier, no, Victorin!" resumed Douarnek with severity, "but from soldier to general, yes! We freely chose you our chief; we must speak freely to you! The more we have loved you, you, young man, the more we have honored you, all the more are we entitled to say to you: Keep yourself at the height of your mission!" "I endeavor to, brave Douarnek, by fighting at my best, by leading our legions in the hottest of the fray." "All is not said when one has done his duty in battle. You are not a captain only, you are also a Chief of Gaul!" "Be it so! But why, in the name of all the devils, do you imagine, my brave Douarnek, that as a general and a Chief of Gaul I should be less sensitive than a soldier to the splendor of two beautiful black or blue eyes, or to the bouquet of good old white or red wine?" "The man chosen by free men should, even in matters that appertain to his private life, observe wise moderation if he wishes to be beloved, obeyed and respected. Have you observed such moderation? No! And accordingly, having seen you swallow a pea, we have believed you capable of gulping down an ox. It is in that that we did wrong!" "What! My boys!" the young general replied smiling. "Did you really think I had such a maw as to be able to swallow a whole ox?" "We often saw you in your cups--we knew you to be a runner after girls. We were told that on one occasion, being intoxicated, you violated a woman, a tavern-keeper's wife on one of the isles of the Rhine, who thereupon killed herself in despair. We believed the story. Were we perhaps mistaken in that?" "Malediction!" cried Victorin indignantly and with grief depicted on his face. "And you believed such a thing of my mother's son!" "Yes," answered the veteran, "yes--in that lay the wrong that we did. So that we each did wrong--you and we. We have come to notify you that we are ready to forget the past, and that our hearts remain loyal to you. We wish you, in turn, to forgive us, so that we may love you and you us as in the past. Is it agreed, Victorin?" "Yes," answered Victorin, deeply moved by the veteran's loyal and touching words; "it is agreed." "Your hand!" replied Douarnek, "in the name of our comrades." "Here it is," said the young general, stooping down over his horse's neck in order cordially to clasp the veteran's hand. "I thank you for your frankness, my children. I shall be to you as you are to me for the glory and peace of Gaul. Without you I can do nothing; although it is the general who carries the triumphal chaplet, it is the soldier's bravery that weaves it, and imparts to it the purple of his own blood!" "It is, then, agreed, Victorin," Douarnek replied with moistening eyes. "Our blood belongs to you, to the last drop--and to our beloved Gaul--to your glory!" "And to my mother who made me what I am," interrupted Victorin with increasing emotion; "and to my mother our respect, our love, our devotion, my children!" "Long live the Mother of the Camps!" cried Douarnek in a resonant voice. "Long live Victorin, her glorious son!" Douarnek's companions, the rest of the soldiers and officers, in short, all of us present at this scene joined in the cheers of Douarnek: "Long live the Mother of the Camps! Long live Victorin, her glorious son!" The whole army thereupon set itself in march back to the camp while, under the protection of a legion that was ordered to watch our prisoners, the medical druids and their aides remained on the field of battle to gather the dead, and tend the wounded, both Frank and Gallic. It was a superb summer's night, that in which the army struck the road to Mayence. As it marched, the banks of the Rhine re-echoed to the chant of the bard: "This morning we say:-- 'How many are there of these barbarous hordes, Who thievishly aspire to rob us of land, Of homes, of wires and of sunshine? Yes, how many are there of these Franks?' "This evening we'll say:-- 'Make answer, thou sod, red drenched In the blood of the stranger; Make answer, ye deep-rolling waves of the Rhine; Make answer, ye crows that flutter for carrion, Make answer--make answer! How many were they, These robbers of land, of homes, of wives and of sunshine? Aye, how many were there, Of these blood-thirsty, ravenous Franks?'" CHAPTER XIV. THE HOMEWARD RIDE. In his haste to inform his mother of our splendid victory, Victorin passed the command of the troops to one of the oldest chiefs. We changed our tired horses for two fresh ones which were always led by the reins ready for Victorin's use, and he and I rode rapidly towards Mayence. The night was serene; the moon shone superbly among myriads of stars--those unknown worlds where we shall proceed to live when we leave this world. Strange! In the very midst of the ineffable bliss that I experienced at the triumph of our army, a triumph that insured the peace and prosperity of Gaul; in the very midst of the pleasurable thoughts of soon again seeing your mother and you, my son, after a hard day's fighting; in the very midst of all these pleasing emotions a sudden fit of profound melancholy came over me, a painful presentiment saddened my heart. In the fulness of my gratitude to the gods, I had raised my eyes to heaven in order to thank them for our success. The moon shed its brilliant light upon our path. I know not for what reason, but that moment my thoughts traveled back to our ancestors, and I recalled with sad piety all the glorious, the touching and the terrible deeds that they had done, and upon which also the sacred luminary of Gaul shed its never-ceasing light generations and generations ago. The sacrifice of Hena; the journey of Albinik the mariner and his wife Meroë to Caesar's camp, across a region that was heroically given up to the flames by our fathers during their war with the Romans; the nocturnal expeditions of Sylvest the slave to the secret meetings of the Sons of the Mistletoe and to the palace of Faustina, his escape and flight from the circus of Orange where he came near being devoured by ferocious beasts; and finally the bold insurrections, the formidable revolts, the signal for which was ever given by the courses of the moon, as prearranged by our venerable druids; all these events that lay in the distant past rose at that moment before my mind like pale phantoms of the past. The merry voice of Victorin drew me from my meditations: "What are you dreaming about? How can you, one of the vanquishers in this fair day's battle, be as mute as one of the vanquished?" "Victorin, I was thinking of days that are no more--of events that took place during the centuries that have rolled by--" "A curious thought!" replied the young general; and giving a loose to his exuberant feelings he proceeded to say: "Let us leave the past to the empty cups and the departed sweethearts! As for me, I am thinking first of all of my mother's joy when she will learn of our victory; next, my thoughts run, and they run strongly, upon the burning black eyes of Kidda the Bohemian girl, who is waiting for me. When I left her this morning, at the close of the protracted banquet to which she drew me by a ruse, she made an appointment with me for this evening. This will be a well rounded day, Schanvoch! A battle in the morning, and, in the evening, a festive supper with a charming sweetheart on my knees! Ah! It is pleasurable to be a soldier and twenty years of age!" "Listen, Victorin. So long as the cares of battle lay upon your mind, I saw you wise, thoughtful and grave, as becomes a Chief of Gaul, and at all points worthy of your mother and yourself--" "And by the beautiful eyes of Kidda, am I not still worthy of myself when my thoughts turn to her after battle?" "Do you know, Victorin, that Douarnek's mission to you in the name of the whole army is an evidence of the proud independence that animates our soldiers, whose free will alone made you a general? Do you realize that such words, pronounced by such men, are not, and will not be vain--and that it will be fatal to forget them?" "Why, Schanvoch! It was a whim of veterans who grieve over their lost youth--old men's words, censuring pleasures that their age can no longer taste." "Victorin, you affect an indifference that your heart does not share. I saw you touched, deeply affected by the language of that old soldier--and also by the attitude of his comrades." "One feels so happy on the evening of a battle won, that everything pleases. Besides, although his words were peevish enough, did they not betoken the army's affection for me?" "Do not deceive yourself, Victorin! The army's affection for you ebbed--it returned at floodtide with to-day's great victory. But, be careful! Fresh acts of imprudence will furnish the basis for fresh calumnies, started by those who would wish to undo you--" "And who wishes to undo me?" "A chief always has rivals who envy him secretly; and you will not have every day a triumph on the battle field to confound those envious souls with. Thanks to the gods, the utter annihilation of these barbarous hordes insures the peace of our beloved Gaul for many a year to come!" "All the better, Schanvoch! All the better! Becoming again one of Gaul's most obscure citizens, and hanging my sword, that will have become useless, beside that of my father, I shall then be free to empty innumerable cups without restraint, and to make love to all the Bohemian girls of the universe!" "Victorin! Be careful, I repeat! Remember the words of the old soldier!" "The devil take the old soldier and his foolish harangue! At this hour I think only of Kidda! Ah! Schanvoch, if you only saw her dance with her short skirt and her silvery corsage!" "Be careful! Both the camp and the town have their eyes upon those Bohemian dancers! Your friendly relations with them will make a scandal! Take my advice! Be reserved in your conduct; at any rate, veil your amours in secrecy and obscurity!" "Obscurity? Secrecy? No hypocrisy! I love to display to the eyes of all, the sweethearts that I am proud of! And I am even prouder of Kidda than of to-day's victory!" "Victorin! Victorin! Be careful, or that woman will be fatal to you!" "Oh! Schanvoch! If you heard Kidda sing and dance, accompanying herself with a tambourine--Oh! If you heard and saw her you would become as crazily in love with her as I am! But," added the young general breaking off the thread of his delighted description, and pointing ahead of him, "look at yonder torches! Heaven be praised! It is my mother! In her anxiety to know the issue of the day she must have ridden out towards the battle field! Oh, Schanvoch! I am young, impetuous, ardent after pleasures, that never leave me. I enjoy them with the delight of intoxication--and yet, I swear to you by my father's sword, I would exchange all my future pleasures for the happiness that I am about to experience when my mother will press me to her heart!" Saying this, the young general gave the reins to his horse and without waiting for me rode forward to meet Victoria, who was, indeed, approaching. When I reached the group, they had both alighted. Victoria held Victorin in a close embrace, and was saying to him in accents impossible to describe: "My son, I am a happy mother!" It was only then that I perceived by the light of the torches of Victoria's escort that her right hand was bandaged. Victorin inquired with anxiety: "Are you wounded, mother?" "Only slightly," answered Victoria. And addressing me she extended her hand affectionately, saying: "Brother, you are with us! My heart overflows with joy!" "But who gave you the wound?" "The Frankish woman whom Ellen and Sampso brought to my house after your departure--" "Elwig!" I cried horrified. "Oh! The accursed creature! She has approved herself worthy of her race!" "Schanvoch," Victoria said to me gravely, "we must not curse the dead. She whom you call Elwig lives no more--" "Mother!" cried Victorin with increased anxiety. "Dear mother! Are you certain the wound is slight?" "Here, my son; I shall let you see it!" And in order to reassure Victorin, she unwound the bandage in which her right hand was wrapped. "You can see for yourself," she added. "I cut myself only in two places in the palm of my hand as I sought to disarm the woman." Indeed, the wounds that my foster-sister exhibited were two long but by no means deep cuts. They were in no respect serious. "And Elwig was armed?" I inquired, seeking to recollect the events of the previous evening. "Where could she have found a weapon? Unless last evening, before starting to swim after us, she picked up her knife from the beach and hid it under her clothes." "And how and when did the woman try to stab you, mother? Were you alone with her?" "I asked Schanvoch to have Elwig brought to me at noon; I wanted to see her and give her my help. Ellen and Sampso brought her to me. I happened to be speaking with Robert, the chief of our reserves; we were considering measures for the defense of the camp and town in the event of our army's defeat. Elwig was taken to a contiguous apartment, and Schanvoch's wife and sister-in-law left the stranger alone while I sent for an interpreter to help us understand each other. At the close of my conversation with Robert on military matters, he asked me for some help for the widow of an old soldier. That took me to the chamber where Elwig was waiting for me. I went in for some silver pieces which I kept in a little casket in which were also several Gallic jewels, necklaces and bracelets that I inherited from my mother--" "If the casket was open," I cried, the savage cupidity of Neroweg's sister flashing through my mind, "Elwig, like the true daughter of a race of thieves, must have wished to seize some of the precious articles." "And that was how it happened, Schanvoch. When I entered, the young Frankish woman was holding in her hand a gold necklace of exquisite workmanship. She was contemplating it greedily. The moment she saw me she dropped the necklace at her feet, and crossing her arms over her breast she looked at me for a moment in silence and with a savage expression. Her pale face became red with shame and rage. She then gave me a somber look, and pronounced my name. I supposed she asked whether I was Victoria. I nodded my head affirmatively and said: 'Yes, I am Victoria.' I had hardly uttered the words when Elwig threw herself at my feet. Her forehead almost touched the floor, as if she humbly implored my protection. The woman must doubtlessly have profited by the movement to draw her knife from under her clothes without my perceiving it. I stooped down to raise her, when she suddenly leaped up, and with eyes that shot fire sought to stab me, while saying 'Victoria!' 'Victoria!' in a tone of rooted hatred." Although the danger was over, Victorin shuddered at the report that his mother was making; he approached her, gently took the wounded hand between his own, and kissed it tenderly and lovingly. "When I saw Elwig's knife raised over me," added Victoria, "my first and involuntary movement was to parry the blow and try to seize the knife, while I cried aloud to Robert for help. Robert rushed in and saw me struggling with Elwig. I was cut in the hand and my blood flowed. Robert believed me dangerously wounded, drew his sword, seized Elwig by the throat, and despatched her before I had time to stay his hand. I deplore the death of the Frankish woman--she came voluntarily to my house." "You pity her, mother!" cried Victorin. "That creature thievish and savage like the rest of her kith! You pity her! I feel certain that she followed Schanvoch only in order to find an opportunity to introduce herself into your house, cut your throat and then rob you!" "I pity her for being born of such a stock," answered Victoria sadly. "I pity her for having harbored murder in her heart." "Believe me," I said to my foster-sister. "That woman's death is a just punishment; besides it puts an end to a life that was soiled with crimes at which nature shudders. May it have pleased the gods that, like Elwig, her brother Neroweg lost his life to-day, and that his stock may be extinguished in him. I will otherwise regret all my life that I did not finish the man when I had a chance. I have a presentiment that his descendants will be fatal to mine." Victoria gave me a look of astonishment at hearing me utter these words, the sense of which she could not comprehend. But Victorin turned her thoughts and mine into other channels, exclaiming: "Hesus be blessed, mother! This was a happy day for Gaul! You escaped a grave danger, and our arms are victorious! The Franks are driven from our frontier!--" Victorin broke off; he seemed to listen to a sound in the distance; with flashing eyes he resumed: "Do you hear, mother? Do you hear the song that the wind carries to our ears?" We all remained silent; and repeated in chorus by thousands of voices tremulous with the joy of triumph, the following refrain reached us across the stillness of the night: "This morning we said:-- 'How many are there of these barbarians?' This evening we say:-- 'How many were there of these blood-thirsty Franks!'" PART II. DOMESTIC TRAITORS. CHAPTER I. GATHERING SHADOWS. Several years have elapsed since I wrote for you, my child, the account that closed with the great battle of the Rhine. The utter annihilation of the Frankish hordes and the simultaneous destruction of their establishment on the other side of the river, freed Gaul of the perpetual fear that she stood in, of a threatened invasion of barbarians. Perhaps from their retreat in the woods of northern Germany the Franks are now only awaiting a favorable opportunity to swoop down again upon Gaul. But for all the joy of this deliverance, I now resume my narrative after having experienced years of bitter sorrow. Great misfortunes have befallen me across this interval. I have seen a frightful intrigue of hypocrisy and malice unfold before my eyes. Since then an incurable sadness has taken possession of my soul. I left the borders of the Rhine for Brittany; here I established myself with your second mother and you, my son, at the identical place that long ago was the cradle of our family--near the sacred stones of Karnak, the witnesses of the heroic sacrifice of our ancestress Hena. Only yesterday, as I was returning from the fields with you--from a soldier I have become a field laborer like our fathers in the days of their independence--only yesterday I pointed out to you, on the border of the stream, two hollow willow trees; they were old. Their age must now be more than three hundred years. They are so very, very old that they no longer put forth but a few straggling leaves. You asked me to tie a rope between the two trees for you to swing yourself. You noticed with surprise that I grew sad at your request, and that I suddenly became pensive. It occurred to me how, nearly three hundred years ago, by a strange coincidence it occurred to Sylvest and his sister Syomara to tie a rope between those identical trees in order to disport themselves. Nor were, alas! those recollections the only ones that those two centenarian trunks brought back to my mind. I said to you: "Look at those two trees with sadness and veneration, my son. One of our ancestors, Guilhern, the son of Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, died an atrocious death bound to one of them; Guilhern's son, a lad a little older than yourself and named Sylvest, was tied to the other willow to die the same death as his father. An unexpected accident snatched him from the frightful fate."[3] "And what was their crime?" you asked me. "The crime of the father and of his son was to have tried to escape from bondage, so as not to be forced to cultivate under a master's whip, with the slave's collar on their necks and chains to their feet, the fields that were their own patrimony. They wished to escape cultivating those fields for the benefit of the Romans who had robbed them of them." My answer astonished you still more, my child--you who always lived happy and free, who until now have known no other grief than that of the loss of your dear mother, of whom you have preserved only a vague memory. You were barely four years and two months old a short time after the victory that Gaul won over the Franks on the border of the Rhine. You will remember that I broke off our conversation, and that I relapsed into one of those fits of melancholy that I find it impossible to overcome every time I recall the terrible domestic catastrophes that befell us on the Rhine. But I always regain courage when I remember the duty imposed upon me by our ancestor Joel, who lived nearly three hundred years ago in the same place where we are now again established after our family's having experienced innumerable vicissitudes. When you will be old enough to read these pages, my son, you will understand the cause of these mortal fits of sadness in which you have often seen me steeped, despite your second mother's tenderness, whom I could not cherish too dearly. Yes, when you will have read the last and solemn words of Victoria, the Mother of the Camps, dreadful words, you will then understand that, however painful may be to me the past that will throw a shadow over my path until death, the future that is perhaps in store for Gaul by the mysterious will of Hesus, must fill me with still greater anguish--and you will share my anguish, my son, when you reflect over the wise and profound observation of our ancestor Sylvest: "Alas, every time the nation is wounded the family bleeds." Aye, if Victoria was endowed with the science of foreseeing the future, as so many of our venerable female druids have been before her; if ever her redoubtable prophecies are verified--then, woe is Gaul! Woe is our race! Woe is our family! A longer period of even more cruel sufferings will lie before our country under the yoke of the Rome of the Bishops than it experienced under the yoke of the Rome of the Caesars and the Emperors! As I said before, I now resume the thread of my narrative where I dropped it several years ago. After an extensive conversation on the events of the day, Victorin and his mother returned to Mayence, where they arrived late in the evening. Pretending great fatigue and some pain from the light wound that he received, the young general retired. The moment he reached his house he threw off his armor, and wrapping himself in his cloak repaired to the Bohemian girls. "That woman will be fatal to you," were my words to the young general on our way from the battle field. Alas! My foresight was destined to prove true. By the way of these creatures, keep in mind, my son, a circumstance with which I later became acquainted; you will presently appreciate its importance--those Bohemian girls came to Mayence two days after the arrival of Tetrik in the same town, and they arrived from Gascony, the department that he governed. This discovery, together with many others, imparted to me such accurate information on certain facts that I am enabled to describe them the same as if I had been present. As I said, Victorin left his house at night to keep his assignation with Kidda, the Bohemian girl. He had met her only the previous evening for the first time. She made a deep impression upon him. He was young, handsome, bright and generous. That very day he had won a glorious battle. He was well aware of the easy morals of those strolling singers, who, in effect, were nothing but courtesans. He felt certain that he would possess the object of this latest whim. How great must his surprise have been when Kidda said to him with well simulated firmness, sadness and repressed passion: "Victorin, I shall not speak to you of my virtue; you will laugh at the virtue of a strolling Bohemian singer. But you may believe me when I say that long before I saw you, your glorious name had reached me. Your renown for valor and goodness made my heart beat, unworthy of you as that heart is, seeing that I am a poor, degraded creature. Believe me, Victorin," she added with tears in her eyes, "if I were pure, you would have my love and my life; but I am soiled; I do not deserve your attention. I love you too passionately, I honor you too much ever to offer to you the remains of an existence debased by men, who are not worthy of being compared with you." So far from cooling, the hypocritical language fired the ardor of Victorin; it exalted him beyond measure. His sensual whim for the woman was speedily transformed into a consuming and mad passion. Despite his protestations of devotion, despite his entreaties, despite his tears--he actually wept at the feet of the execrable woman--the Bohemian remained inexorable. Victorin's nature underwent thereupon a marked change. From mirthful, pleasant and open, it became retired and morose. He grew somber and taciturn. Both his mother and I were ignorant at the time of the cause of the change. To our pressing questions the young general would answer that, being struck by the manifestations of displeasure that the army had shown towards him, he did not wish to expose himself to a recurrence of their anger; thenceforth his life was to be austere and retired. With the exception of a few hours that he consecrated every day to his mother, Victorin now rarely left his house, and he avoided the company of his former boon companions. Struck, on their part, by his sudden change of deportment, the soldiers saw in it only the salutary effect of the remonstrances made to their young general in their name by Douarnek. They cherished him more than ever before. I later learned that, in his self-imposed solitude, the unhappy man habitually drank himself into utter stupor in order to forget his fatal passion, and that every evening he repaired to the Bohemian dancer's, only, however, to find her pitiless as ever. About a month passed in this manner. Tetrik remained in Mayence in order to overcome Victoria's repugnance to the idea of having her grandson acclaimed the heir of his father's office. But Victoria ever answered the Governor of Gascony, saying: "Ritha-Gaur, who made himself a blouse of the beard of the kings whom he shaved, overthrew royalty in Gaul about ten centuries ago. He held that, under royalty, it is the people and their descendants who are transmitted by hereditary right, to kings, and that these are rarely good, and generally bad. More and more enlightened by our venerable druids, the Gauls have wisely preferred to elect the chief whom they consider worthiest to govern them. They thus constituted themselves into a Republic. My grandson is still a child in his cradle; no one can know whether he will later have the qualities that are necessary for the government of a great people like ours. To acknowledge this child to-day as the heir of his father's office is tantamount to restoring the royalty that we have wisely overthrown. I hate royalty as much as did Ritha-Gaur." Still hoping to overcome the resolution of the Mother of the Camps by his persistence, Tetrik prolonged his stay in Mayence--at least I was long under the impression that such was the only reason for his postponing his departure. Nor did Tetrik seem to be less surprised at the unaccountable change that came over Victorin. The latter, although plunged in brooding sadness, still preserved his affection for me. I even thought that more than once he was on the point of opening his heart to me and of confiding to me what he there kept hidden. Later, however, he ceased calling at my house as he formerly used to, and seemed even to avoid meeting me. His features, once so handsome and open, were no longer the same. Pale with suffering, worn by excessive and solitary indulgence in wine, their expression gradually assumed a sinister aspect. At times a sort of dementia seemed to speak out of his alternately fixed and wandering gaze. About five weeks after the great battle of the Rhine, Victorin resumed his visits to my house. The turn was marked, both in point of suddenness and assiduity. Noticeable was the circumstance that the hours which he chose for his visits were those during which Sampso and my wife were home alone, I being at Victoria's writing the letters which she dictated. Ellen received the son of my foster-sister with her wonted affability. At first I imagined that, sorry at having kept himself away from me without cause and by a mere whim, he sought to bring about a reconciliation by means of my wife. I believed this all the more seeing that, despite his persistence in seeking to avoid me, he never spoke of me to Ellen except in terms of deep affection. Sampso was usually present at the conversations between her sister and Victorin. Only once did she leave them alone, and then, when she returned she was struck by the painful expression on my wife's face and the visible embarrassment shown by Victorin, who speedily took his departure. "What is the matter, Ellen?" asked Sampso. "Sister, I conjure you, never again leave me alone with Victoria's son. May it please the gods that I am mistaken! But to judge from some broken words that Victorin let drop, to judge by the expression of his face, I imagine that he is moved by a guilty love for me--and yet he is aware of my devotion to Schanvoch!" "Sister!" exclaimed Sampso, "Victorin's excesses have ever shocked me, but latterly he seems to have changed. The sacrifice of his unregulated pleasures doubtlessly costs him much; notwithstanding the young general's changed conduct is praised by everyone, they all comment on his profound sadness. I can not believe him capable of thinking of dishonoring your husband, who loves Victorin as if he were his own child, and who even saved his life in battle. You must be mistaken, Ellen! No! Such baseness is not possible!" "I only hope you are right, Sampso; nevertheless, I must conjure you not to leave me alone with Victorin if he comes again. At any rate, I mean to tell all to Schanvoch." "Be careful, Ellen. If, as I believe, you are mistaken, you would but raise a frightful and unjustified suspicion in your husband's breast. You know how attached he is to Victoria and her son. Only imagine Schanvoch's despair at such a revelation! Ellen, follow my advice, receive Victorin once more alone. Should your suspicions grow into certainty, then, hesitate no longer--reveal Victorin's treachery to Schanvoch. It would otherwise be imprudent on your part to awaken in him suspicions that may be wholly baseless. An infamous hypocrite, however, should be unmasked, when there is no longer any doubt as to his purpose." Ellen promised her sister to follow her advice. But Victorin never returned. I learned all these details only later. This happened in the course of the fifth or sixth week after the great battle of the Rhine, and exactly eight days before the catastrophe that it is my duty, my son, to relate to you. On that fateful day I spent the early part of the evening near Victoria conferring with her upon an urgent mission on which I was to depart on that very evening, and which might keep me several days from home. Although Victorin promised his mother to be present at the conference, the purpose of which was known to him, he remained away. I did not wonder at his absence. For some time, and without it being possible for me to fathom his whimsical conduct, he had avoided all opportunity of encountering me. Victoria said to me pathetically when I left her at the usual hour: "Private feelings must be hushed before interests of state. I have spoken to you fully on the subject of the mission that I have charged you with, Schanvoch. And now the mother will unbosom her private grief. I had this morning a sad conversation with my son. I vainly implored him to confide to me the cause of the secret sorrow that is consuming him. He answered me with a distressful smile: "'Mother, one time you reproached me with my levity and my too strong taste for pleasures--those days are now far behind--I now live in solitude and meditation. My lodging, where formerly the joyful din of song and revelry by torch light used to keep the night astir, is now lonely, silent and somber--like myself. Our scrupulous soldiers feel edified at my conversion, and now no longer reproach me with too much love for joy, wine and women! What more do you want, mother?' "'I want much more,' I replied to him, unable to restrain my tears. 'I want to see you happy as in the past. You suffer, my son; you suffer a pain that you conceal from me. The consciousness of a wise and thoughtful life, as becomes the chief of a great people, imparts to his face a grave yet serene expression. Your face, however, is haggard, sinister, pale, like that of a man distracted and in despair--'" "And what did Victorin say to that?" "Nothing. He relapsed into the gloomy brooding in which I find him so often plunged, and from which he emerges only to cast wandering looks about. I then showed him his child, whom I held in my arms. He took it, kissed it several times with great tenderness, put it back into its cradle, and left abruptly without saying a word. I believe he wished to hide his tears from me. I saw that he wept. Oh! Schanvoch, my heart breaks when I think of the future that seemed to me so rosy for Gaul, for my son and for me!" I sought to console Victoria by joining her in conjecturing the cause of her son's mysterious grief. The hour grew late. I was to travel all that night in order to fulfil my mission as promptly as possible. I left my foster-sister's and proceeded home in order to embrace your mother and you, my son, before starting on my journey. CHAPTER II. THE CATASTROPHE. When I reached home, my son, I found your mother Ellen and her sister Sampso seated near your cradle. The moment Sampso saw me she cried: "You arrive in time, Schanvoch, to help me convince Ellen that her fears are groundless--she is weeping--" "What ails you, Ellen? What afflicts you?" She dropped her head, made no answer, and continued weeping. "She does not dare to admit to you the cause of her affliction, Schanvoch; my sister weeps because you are about to depart." "What?" I asked Ellen in a tone of tender reproach, "you who are always so brave even when I leave for battle, are now timorous and tearful when I am only going on a peaceful journey that will not keep me away more than a few days--a journey into Gaul, where peace reigns! Ellen, your apprehensions are groundless." "That is exactly what I have been repeating to my sister. Your journey does not expose you to any danger; and if you depart to-night it is because the matter is urgent." "Yes, indeed! Why, it must be a positive pleasure to journey in the manner that I am about to do--on a mild summer's night, across the smiling fields of our own beautiful country that is to-day so calm and peaceful!" "I know all that," said Ellen in a tremulous voice. "My alarm is senseless; and yet this journey fills me with dread." And stretching her arms towards me imploringly: "Schanvoch, my beloved husband, do not depart; I conjure you--do not depart--" "Ellen," I replied sadly, "for the first time in my life I am compelled to answer you with a refusal--" "I beg you, stay near me!" "I would sacrifice everything to you, my duty excepted. The mission with which I am charged by Victoria is important--I promised to fulfil it. I must keep my word." "Well, then, go," answered my wife amid a paroxysm of sobs, "and let my fate come upon me; it is your will!" "Sampso, what fate does she mean?" "Alas! Since this morning my sister has been a prey to gloomy presentiments. She admitted them to be as unaccountable as I considered them myself, and yet she is unable to overcome them. She says she feels certain that she will never see you again--or that some grave peril threatens you during your journey." "Ellen, my beloved wife," I said, clasping her to my heart, "need I tell you that, short as our separation may be, it is always hard for me to be away from you? Would you add to that sorrow, the even greater one of having to leave you in such a desolate state?" "Pardon me," answered Ellen making a strong effort over herself. "You are right; such weakness is unworthy of the wife of a soldier. See; I have stopped weeping. I am calm; your words have reassured me; I am ashamed of my timorous terrors; but in the name of our child who is now asleep in his cradle, do not go away annoyed at me. Let your good-bye caresses be tender as ever; I shall need that; yes, I shall need that in order to recover the courage that I am deficient in to-day." Despite her apparent resignation, my wife seemed to suffer so much under the restraint that she imposed upon herself, that for a moment I thought of requesting Victoria to transfer the commission to Captain Marion, to the end that I might remain at home. One consideration held me back from putting the thought into execution; the time was too short. Seeing that the journey had to be undertaken that same night, Captain Marion could not possibly start on the spot. It would take hours in order to post the captain upon a matter of which he knew absolutely nothing, and which demanded promptness for success. Yielding to my duty, and, I must also say, convinced of the idleness of Ellen's fears, I decided to depart. I clasped her in my arms, and recommending her to the tender care of Sampso, I mounted my horse and rode off. It was ten o'clock at night. A rider was to serve as my escort and messenger in case I had occasion to write to Victoria on the road. The rider was chosen for me by Captain Marion, to whom I applied for a reliable man; I found him ready, waiting for me at one of the gates of Mayence, and we trotted forth together. Although the moon was not to rise until late, the night was luminous by the light of the stars. I noticed, although without attaching at the time any importance to the circumstance, that, despite the mildness of the season, my traveling companion had on a heavy coat the hood of which fell down deep over his casque, so that even in full daylight it would have been difficult for me to see the man's face. Although a simple soldier like myself, instead of riding beside me, he allowed me to ride ahead of him without exchanging a word. On any other occasion, and being like all Gauls of a chatty disposition, I would not have accepted this mark of exaggerated deference; it would have deprived me of the conversation of a companion during a long ride. But I was saddened by the condition in which I had left my wife, and as despite myself, my mind insisted upon turning upon the sad forebodings that alarmed her, the sense of sadness grew upon me in the measure that the distance separating us increased; consequently I did not regret being left to my reflections during a part of the night. Thus, the rider following me, we traveled away from the town. We had ridden about two hours without exchanging a word; the moon due in the sky towards midnight began to show her disk behind a hill that bounded the horizon. We had arrived at a crossing where four highways, built by the Romans, met. I slackened Tom-Bras's pace in order to ascertain the road I was to take, when suddenly my traveling companion raised his voice behind me and cried: "Schanvoch, ride back home at full tilt--a horrible crime is being committed at this hour in your house!" At these words I quickly turned in my saddle. By the glamour of the rising moon I could see the rider give a stupendous bound with his horse, clear the hedge that lined the road, and vanish in the shadow of the forest that we had been skirting for some time. Struck dumb with terror, I remained motionless for a moment; when, yielding to an impulse of curiosity and anguish, I thought of dashing after the rider and compelling an explanation of his words, it was too late. The moon was not yet far up enough to justify my pursuing the fugitive through the wood, which, moreover, was unknown to me. Besides, the rider had too much the lead of me. I listened intently for a moment, and I could hear in the profound stillness of the night the rapid gallop of the man's horse. He was far away. It seemed to me that he resumed the road to Mayence through the forest, consequently by a shorter route. For a moment I hesitated what to do. But recalling my wife's unaccountable forebodings and comparing them with the rider's words, I turned my horse's head and dashed back to the city. "If," I thought to myself, "by some unconceivable accident the announcement to which I hearkened was as ill founded as Ellen's forebodings, with which, however, it strangely coincided; if my alarm turns out to be vain, I shall take a fresh horse at the camp and immediately resume my journey, which will have been delayed by three hours." With voice and heels I urged on the rapid course of my horse Tom-Bras, and I rode headlong towards Mayence. In the measure that I approached the place where I left my wife and child, the gloomiest thoughts crowded upon me. What crime could it be that was being committed in my house? Was it to a friend, or was it to an enemy that I owed the revelation? At times I imagined the rider's voice was not unknown to me, yet I could not remember where I had heard it before. That which, above all, added fuel to my anxiety was the mysterious accord between the announcement just made to me and the presentiments that alarmed Ellen. The rising moon aided the swiftness of my course as it lighted the road. Trees, fields, houses vanished behind me with giddy swiftness. I consumed less than an hour in covering the same route that I had just spent two hours over. At last I reached the gates of Mayence. I felt Tom-Bras trembling under me, not for want of ardor or courage, but because his strength was spent. Seeing a soldier mounting guard, I said: "Did you see a rider enter town this night?" "About a quarter of an hour ago," the soldier answered, "a rider wrapped in a hooded mantle went by at a gallop. He rode towards the camp." "It is he," I said to myself, and resumed my course at the risk of seeing Tom-Bras expire under me. There could be no doubt; my traveling companion made a short cut through the forest, but why did he proceed to the camp, instead of entering the town? A few moments later I arrived before my house. I leaped down from my horse that neighed gladly as he recognized the place. I ran to the door and knocked hard. No one opened to me, but I heard muffled cries within. Again I knocked with the handle of my sword, but in vain. The cries grew louder; I thought I heard Sampso's voice--I tried to break down the door--impossible. Suddenly the window of my wife's room was thrown open. I ran thither sword in hand. At the instant when I arrived at the casement, the shutters were pulled open from within. I rushed through the passage and found myself face to face with a man. The darkness prevented me from recognizing him. He was in the act of fleeing from Ellen's room, whose heartrending cries then reached my ears. To seize the man by the throat at the moment when he put his foot upon the window sill in order to escape, to throw him back into the pitch dark room, and to strike him several times with my sword while I cried: 'Ellen, here I am!'--all this happened with the swiftness of thought. I drew my sword from the body that lay at my feet and was about to plunge it again into the carcass--my rage was uncontrollable--when I felt two arms clasp me convulsively. I thought myself attacked by a second adversary and forthwith ran the other body through. The arms that had been thrown around my neck immediately loosened their hold, and at the same time I heard these words pronounced by an expiring voice: "Schanvoch--you have killed me--thanks, my friend--it is sweet to me to die at your hands--I would not have been able to survive my shame--" It was Ellen's voice. My wife had run, dumb with terror, to place herself under my protection. It was her arms that had clasped me. I heard her fall upon the floor. I remained thunder-struck. My sword dropped from my hand; for several seconds the silence of death reigned in the room that was perfectly dark except for a beam of pale light that fell from the moon through the lattice of one of the shutters that the wind had blown to. The shutter was suddenly thrown open again from without, and by the light of the moon I saw a tall and slender woman, clad in a short red skirt and a silvery corsage, resting with her knee upon the outer window sill and leaning her head into the room say: "Victorin, handsome Tarquin of a new Lucretia, quit the house; the night is far advanced. I saw you enter the door at midnight, the hour agreed upon, the husband being away. You shall now leave your charmer's house by the window, the passage of lovers. You kept your promise--now I am yours. Come, my cart awaits us. Venus will protect us!" "Victorin!" I cried horrified, believing myself the sport of a frightful nightmare. "It was he--I killed him!" "The husband!" exclaimed Kidda, the Bohemian, leaping back. "It must be the devil that brought him back!" And she vanished. Immediately afterwards I heard the sound of a cart's wheels and the clinking of the bell of the mule that drew it rapidly away, while from another direction, from the quarter of the camp, I heard a distant roar that drew steadily nearer and resembled the hubbub of a tumultuous mob. My stupor was followed by a distressful agony lighted by a faint ray of hope--perhaps Ellen was not dead. I ran to the inside chamber; it was closed from within. I knocked and called Sampso at the top of my voice. She answered me from another room, in which she had been locked up. I set her free, crying aloud: "I struck Ellen with my sword in the dark--the wound may not be mortal;--run for the druid Omer--" "I shall run to him on the spot," answered Sampso without asking me any questions. She rushed to the house door which was bolted from within. As she opened it I saw a mob of soldiers advancing over the square where my house was situated and which was close to the entrance of the camp. Several soldiers carried torches; all uttered loud and threatening cries in which the name of Victorin constantly recurred. I recognized the veteran Douarnek at the head of the mob. He was brandishing his sword. "Schanvoch," he cried the moment he recognized me, "the rumor has just run over the camp that a shocking crime was committed in your house!" "And the criminal is Victorin!" cried several voices drowning mine. "Death to the infamous fellow!" "Death to the infamous fellow, who violated the wife of his friend!" "Just as he violated the wife of the tavern-keeper on the Rhine, who killed herself in despair." "The cowardly hypocrite pretended to have mended his ways!" "To dishonor a soldier's wife! The wife of Schanvoch, who loved the debauché as if he were his own son!" "And who, moreover, saved his life in battle!" "Death! Death to the wretch!" I found it impossible to dominate the furious cries with my voice; Sampso vainly sought to cross the crowd. "For pity's sake, let me pass!" Sampso implored them. "I wish to fetch a physician druid. Ellen still breathes; her wound may not be mortal! Let me bring her help!" Her words only served to redouble the indignation and fury of the soldiers. Instead of opening a passage for my wife's sister, they drove her back as they crowded towards the door. A compact and enraged mass stood there brandishing their swords, shaking their fists and vociferating: "Death! Death to Victorin!" "He slew Schanvoch's wife after doing violence to her!" "She has died as the tavern-keeper's wife on the Rhine!" "Victorin!" thundered Douarnek. "You will not this time escape punishment for your crimes!" "We shall be your executioners!" "Death! Death to Victorin!" "It is impossible to break through the crowd and fetch a physician for my sister--she is lost!" Sampso cried out to me wringing her hands, while I vainly strove to make myself heard by the delirious crowd. "I shall try to get out by the window," said Sampso. Saying this the distracted girl rushed into the mortuary chamber, and I, making superhuman efforts to prevent the infuriated soldiers from invading my house in search of the general, for whose blood they thirsted, cried out to them: "Withdraw! Leave me alone in this house of mourning! Justice has been done! Withdraw, comrades, withdraw!" An ever heightening tumult drowned my words. I saw Sampso issuing from your mother's room carrying you, my son, in her arms. She was sobbing aloud and said: "Brother, there is no hope! Ellen is rigid--her heart has stopped beating--she is dead!" "Dead! Oh, dead! Hesus, have pity upon me!" I moaned and leaned against the wall of the vestibule; I felt my strength leaving me. Suddenly, however, a thrill ran through my frame. From mouth to mouth these words began to circulate among the soldiers: "Here is Victoria! Here comes our mother!" As the words were uttered the crowd swayed back from the entrance of my house to make room for my foster-sister. Such was the respect that the august woman inspired in the army, that silence speedily succeeded the tumultuous clamors of the soldiers. They realized the terrible position of that mother, who, attracted by the cries for justice and vengeance uttered against her own son, accused of an infamous crime, approached the scene in all the majesty of her maternal grief. As to me, my heart felt like breaking. Victoria, my foster-sister, the woman in whose behalf my life had been but one continuous day of devotion--Victoria was about to find in my house the corpse of her son, slain by me--by me who knew him since his birth, and who loved him like my own! The thought of fleeing flashed through my mind--I lacked the physical strength. I remained where I was, supporting myself against the wall--distracted--vaguely looking before me, unable to stir. The crowd of soldiers parted; they formed a long passage; and by the light of the moon and the torches I saw Victoria, clad in her long black robe and her little grandson in her arms, advancing slowly. She doubtlessly hoped to soothe the exasperation of the soldiers by presenting the innocent creature to their sight. Tetrik, Captain Marion and several other officers, who had notified Victoria of the tumult and its cause, followed behind her. They seemed to succeed in calming the seething fury of the troops. The silence grew solemn. The Mother of the Camps was only a few steps from my house when Douarnek approached her, and bending his knee said: "Mother, your son has committed a great crime--we pity you from the bottom of our hearts. But you will see to it that justice is rendered us--we demand justice--" "Yes, yes, justice!" cried the soldiers, whose irritation, after being checked for a moment, now broke out with renewed violence. The cry broke forth from all parts: "Justice! Or we will do justice ourselves!" "Death to the infamous wretch!" "Death to the man who dishonored his friend's wife!" "Cursed be the name of Victorin!" "Yes, cursed--cursed!" repeated a thousand threatening voices. "Cursed be his name forever!" Pale, calm and imposing, Victoria stopped for a moment before Douarnek, who bent his knee as he addressed her. But when the cries of: "Death to Victorin!" "Cursed be his name!" exploded anew, my foster-sister, whose virile and beautiful countenance betrayed mortal anguish, stretched out her arms with the little child in them, as if the innocent creature implored mercy for its father. It was then that the cries broke forth with fiercest violence: "Death to Victorin! Cursed be his name!" And immediately I perceived my recent traveling companion, recognizable by his cloak and hood, in which he still kept himself closely wrapped, push himself with a menacing air toward Victoria, and shaking his fist at her, cry: "Yes, cursed be the name of Victorin! Let his stock be uprooted!" Saying this the man violently tore the child from Victoria's arms, took it by the two feet, and dashed it with such fury upon the cobble-stones that its head was instantly shattered. The deed of ferocity was done with such brutality and swiftness that, although it aroused instant indignation, neither Douarnek nor any of the soldiers who precipitated themselves upon the hooded man to save the child were in time. The innocent child lay dead and bleeding upon the ground. I heard a heartrending cry escape Victoria, but immediately lost sight of her; fearing that some sort of danger threatened her life, the soldiers speedily surrounded and built with their breasts a wall around their mother. The rumor also reached my ears that, thanks to the tumult which ensued, the perpetrator of the horrible murder had succeeded in making his escape. Presently the ranks of the soldiers opened anew amid mournful silence, and again I perceived Victoria, her face bathed in tears, holding in her arms the now lifeless and bleeding body of Victorin's son. At the sight, I cried out from the threshold of my house to the crowd that was now dumb and in consternation: "You demand justice? Justice has been done. I, Schanvoch, I have killed Victorin myself. He is innocent of my wife's death. Now, withdraw. Allow the Mother of the Camps to enter my house that she may weep over the bodies of her son and grandson." Victoria thereupon said to me in a firm voice as she stood at the threshold of my house: "You killed my son; you were right to avenge the outrage done to you." "Yes," I answered her in a hollow voice, "yes, and in the dark I also killed my wife." "Come, Schanvoch, join me in closing the eyelids of Ellen and Victorin." CHAPTER III. THE MORTUARY CHAMBER. Victoria entered the house amidst the religious silence of the soldiers who stood grouped without. Captain Marion and Tetrik followed her in. She motioned to them to remain outside of the death room, where she wished to be left alone with me and Sampso. At the sight of my wife, lying dead upon the floor, I fell upon my knees sobbing beside her. I raised her beautiful head, now pale and cold; closed her eyes; and taking the beloved body in my arms I laid it on my bed. Again I knelt down, and with my head resting upon the pillow on which hers reclined, I could no longer restrain my grief. I sobbed and moaned. I remained there long weeping and disconsolate; I could hear the suppressed sobs of Victoria. Finally her voice recalled me to myself; I thought of what she must be suffering; I looked around. She was seated on the floor near the corpse of Victorin, whose head rested on her maternal knees. "Schanvoch," said my foster-sister as she gently brushed back with her hands the hair that fell over Victorin's forehead, "my son is no more; I may weep over him, despite his crime. Here he lies dead--dead--dead and not yet twenty-three years old!" "Dead--and killed by me--who loved him as my son!" "Brother, you avenged your honor--you have my pardon and pity--" "Alas! I struck Victorin in the dark--I struck him in a fit of blind rage--I struck him without knowing that it was he! Hesus is my witness! Had I recognized your son, Oh, sister! I would have cursed him, but my sword would have dropped at my feet--" Victoria gazed at me in silence. My words seemed to lift a heavy weight from her heart. She looked relieved at learning that I had killed her son without knowing him. She reached out her hand to me feelingly, and I carried it respectfully to my lips. For several minutes we remained silent. She then said to Ellen's sister: "Sampso, were you here this fatal night? Speak, I pray you. What happened?" "It was midnight," Sampso answered in a voice broken with sobs. "Schanvoch had left the house two hours before on his journey. I was lying here beside my sister--I heard a rap at the house door--I threw a cloak over my shoulders and went to the door to ask who it was. A woman's voice with a foreign accent answered--" "A woman's voice?" I asked in a tone of surprise shared by Victoria. "Are you sure it was a woman's voice that answered you, Sampso?" "Yes; that was the snare. The voice said to me: 'I come from Victoria with a very important message for Ellen, the wife of Schanvoch, who left on a journey two hours ago.'" At these words of Sampso's, Victoria and I exchanged looks of increasing astonishment. Sampso proceeded: "As I could in no way suspect a messenger from Victoria, I opened the door. Immediately, instead of a woman, a man rushed at me; he violently pushed me back--and immediately bolted the street door. By the light of the lamp, which I had placed on the floor, I recognized Victorin. He was pale--frightful to behold--he seemed to be intoxicated, and could hardly stand on his feet--" "Oh! The unhappy boy! The unhappy boy!" I cried. "He was not in his senses! Only so! Oh, only so! He never could otherwise have attempted such a crime!" "Proceed, Sampso," said Victoria with a profound sigh; "proceed with your account--" "Without saying a word to me, Victorin pointed to the door of my own room, the room I always occupied when I did not share my sister's room during the absence of Schanvoch. In my terror I guessed all. I cried to Ellen: 'Sister, lock your door!' and I began to call for help as loud as I could. My cries exasperated Victorin. He seized and threw me into my room. Just as he was about to lock me in I saw Ellen hurrying out of her room. She looked pale and frightened; she was almost naked. I afterwards heard the distressing cries of my sister calling for help--I heard them struggle--I fainted away. I know not how long I remained in that state. I regained consciousness when someone knocked at my door and called me by name. It was Schanvoch. I answered him. He must have opened it for me--I saw him--" "And you," Victoria said, turning to me. "How was it that you returned so suddenly?" "At about four leagues from Mayence, I was notified that a crime was being committed in my house." "And who could have notified you?" "A soldier; my escort." "And who was that soldier?" asked Victoria with heightening intensity. "How did he know of the crime?" "I know not--he vanished across the forest the instant that he gave me the sinister information. That soldier got back to town before me--he was the same man who tore your grandchild from your arms and killed it at your feet--" "Schanvoch," resumed Victoria with a shudder and carrying both her hands to her forehead, "my son is dead--I shall neither accuse nor excuse him--but a horrible mystery underlies this crime--" "Listen," I replied, as several circumstances that had slipped my memory at the first pangs of my grief now came back to my mind. "When I arrived before the door of my house, I knocked; only the distant sound of Sampso's cries answered me. A moment later the lower window of my wife's room was opened. I ran thither. The shutters were being pushed aside to give passage to a man, while Ellen cried for help. I pushed the man back into the room, which was dark as a tomb--in the darkness I struck and killed your son. Almost immediately after I felt two arms thrown around my neck--I imagined myself attacked by a new assailant--I made another thrust in the dark--it was Ellen, my beloved wife, whom I killed--" And my sobs choked me. "Brother--brother," said Victoria to me, "this has been a fatal night to us all--" "Listen further--above all to this," I said to my foster-sister, controlling my emotion: "At the very moment when I recognized the voice of my expiring wife, I saw by the light of the moon a woman perched on the casement of the window--" "A woman!" cried Victoria. "It is she probably whose voice deceived me," observed Sampso, "by announcing to me a message from Victoria." "I think so too," I replied; "and that woman, doubtlessly the accomplice of Victorin's crime, called to him, saying it was time to flee, and that she now was his, seeing he had kept the promise that he made to her." "A promise?" Again Victoria pondered. "What promise could he have made to her?" "To dishonor Ellen--" My foster-sister shuddered and said: "I repeat it, Schanvoch, this crime is wrapped in some horrible mystery. But who may that woman have been?" "One of the two Bohemian dancers who recently arrived at Mayence. Listen. Seeing that she received no answer from Victorin, and hearing the distant but approaching clamors of the soldiers who were angrily hastening to my house, she leaped down and vanished. A second after the rumbling of her cart informed me of her flight. In my despair it never occurred to me to pursue her. I knew I had just killed Ellen near the cradle of our son--Ellen, my dearly beloved wife!" I could not continue. Tears and sobs deprived me of speech. Sampso and Victoria remained silent. "This is a veritable abyss!" resumed the Mother of the Camps. "An abyss that my mind can not fathom. My son's crime is great--his intoxication, so far from excusing, only serves to render the deed all the more shameful. And yet, Schanvoch, you know not what love this poor child had for you--" "Say not so, Victoria," I murmured, hiding my face in my hands. "Say not so--my despair becomes only more distressing!" "It is not a reproach that I make, brother," replied Victoria. "Had I been a witness of my son's crime, I would have killed him with my own hands, to the end that he cease to dishonor his mother, and Gaul, that chose him chief. I refer to Victorin's love for you because I believe that, without his being in a state of inebriety and without some dark machination, he never would have committed such a misdeed--" "As for me, sister, I believe I see through this infernal plot--" "You do? Speak!" "Before the great battle of the Rhine an infamous calumny was spread over the camp against Victorin. The army's affection for him was being withdrawn. Your son's victory regained for him the soldiers' affection. See how that old calumny becomes to-day a frightful reality. Victorin's crime cost him his life--and also his son's. His stock is extinct. A new chief must now be chosen for Gaul. Is this not so?" "Yes, brother, all that is true." "Did not that unknown soldier, my traveling companion, know when he revealed to me that a crime was being committed in my house--did he not know that unless I arrived in time to kill Victorin myself in the first access of my rage, your son would certainly be slaughtered by the troops who would undoubtedly rise in revolt at the first tidings of the felony?" "But how," put in Sampso, "was the army apprised so soon of the felony, seeing that no one left the house?" Struck by Sampso's observation the Mother of the Camps started and looked at me. I proceeded: "Who is the man, Victoria, who tore your grandson from your arms and dashed his life against the ground? The same unknown soldier! Did he yield to an impulse of blind rage against the child? Not at all! Accordingly, he was but the instrument of some ambition that is as concealed as it is ferocious. Only one man had an interest in the double murder that has just extinguished your stock--because, once your stock is extinguished Gaul must choose a new chief--and the man whom I suspect, the man whom I accuse has long wished to govern Gaul!" "His name!" cried Victoria, fixing upon me a look of intense agony. "The name of the man whom you suspect--" "His name is Tetrik, your relative, the Governor of Gascony." For the first time since I first expressed my suspicions of her relative, did Victoria seem to share them. She cast her eyes upon the corpse of her son with an expression of pitiful sorrow, kissed his icy forehead several times, and after a moment of profound reflection she seemed to take a supreme resolution. She rose and said to me in a firm voice: "Where is Tetrik?" "He awaits your orders in the next room, I presume, with Captain Marion. What are your orders?" "I wish them both to come in, immediately." "In this chamber of death?" "Yes, in this chamber of death. Yes, here, Schanvoch, before the inanimate remains of your wife, my son and his child. If it was that man who wove this dark and horrible plot, then, even if he were a demon of hypocrisy and bloodthirstiness, he can not choose but betray himself at the sight of his victims--at the sight of a mother between the corpses of her son and grandson; at the sight of a husband beside the corpse of his wife. Go, brother. Order them in! Order them in! Then also, we must at all cost find that unknown soldier, your traveling companion!" "I have thought of that--" and struck with a sudden thought, I added: "It was Captain Marion who chose the rider that was to escort me." "We shall question the captain. Go, brother. Order them in! Order them in!" I obeyed Victoria and called in Tetrik and Marion. Both hastened to answer to the summons. Despite the grief that rent my heart I had the fortitude to watch attentively the face of the Governor of Gascony. The moment he stepped into the room, the first object he seemed to notice was the corpse of Victorin. Tetrik's features immediately assumed the appearance of unspeakable anguish; tears flowed copiously down his cheeks; clasping his hands he dropped on his knees near the body and cried in a voice that seemed rent with grief: "Dead at the prime of his age--dead--he, so brave--so generous! The hope, the strong sword of Gaul. Ah! I forget the foibles of this unhappy youth before the frightful misfortune that has befallen my country!" Tetrik could not proceed. Sobs smothered his voice. On his knees and cowering in a heap, his face hidden in his hands and dropping scalding tears he remained as if crushed with pain near Victorin's body. Standing motionless at the door, Captain Marion was the prey of profound internal sorrow. He indulged in no outbursts of moans; he shed no tears; but he ceased not to contemplate the corpse of Victoria's grandson with a pathetic expression, as the little body lay in my son's cradle; and presently I heard him say in a low voice looking from Victoria to the innocent victim: "What a calamity! Ah! poor child! Poor mother!" Captain Marion then took a few steps forward and said in short and broken words: "Victoria--you are to be pitied--I pity you. Victorin loved you--he was a worthy son--I also loved him. My beard has turned grey, and yet I found a delight in serving under that young man. He was the first captain of our age. None of us can replace him. He had but two vices--the taste for wine and, above all, the pest of profligacy. I often quarreled with him on that. I was right, you see it! Well, we must not quarrel with him now. He had a brave heart. I can say no more to you, Victoria. And what would it boot? A mother can not be consoled. Do not think me unfeeling because I do not weep. One weeps only when he can; but I assure you that you have my sympathy from the bottom of my heart. I could not be sadder or more cast down had I lost my friend Eustace--" And taking a few steps, Marion again looked from Victoria to her little grandson, repeating as his eyes wandered from the one to the other: "Oh! the poor child! Oh! the poor mother!" Still upon his knees beside Victorin, Tetrik did not cease sobbing and moaning. While his grief was as demonstrative as Captain Marion's was reserved, it seemed sincere. Nevertheless, my suspicions still resisted the test, and I saw that my foster-sister shared my doubts. Again she made a violent effort over herself and said: "Tetrik, listen to me!" The Governor of Gascony did not seem to hear the voice of his relative. "Tetrik," Victoria repeated, leaning over to touch the man's shoulder, "I am speaking to you; answer me." "Who speaks?" cried the governor as if his mind wandered. "What do they want? Where am I?" A moment later he raised his eyes to my foster-sister and cried surprised: "You here--here, Victoria? Oh, yes! I was with you shortly ago--I had forgotten. Excuse me. My head swims. Alas! I am a father--I have a son almost of the age of this unfortunate boy. More than anyone else, I pity you!" "Time presses and the occasion is grave," replied my foster-sister solemnly while she fastened a penetrating look upon Tetrik in order to fathom the man's most hidden thoughts. "Private sorrow is hushed before the public interest. I have my whole life left to weep my son and grandson; but we have only a few hours to consider the succession of the Chief of Gaul and of the general of the army--" "What!" exclaimed Tetrik. "At such a moment as this--" "I wish that before daylight breaks upon us, I, Captain Marion and you, Tetrik, my relative, one of my most faithful friends, you, who are so devoted to Gaul, you, who grieve so bitterly over Victorin--I wish that we three revolve in our wisdom what man we shall to-morrow propose to the army as my son's successor." "Victoria, you are a heroic woman!" cried Tetrik clasping his hands in admiration. "You match with your courage and patriotism the most august women who have honored the world!" "What is your opinion, Tetrik, as to the successor of Victorin? Captain Marion and myself will speak after you," the Mother of the Camps proceeded to say without noticing the praises of the Governor of Gascony. "Yes, whom do you think capable of replacing my son--to the glory and advantage of Gaul?" "How can I give you my opinion?" Tetrik replied dejectedly. "How can I give you advice upon a matter of such gravity, when my heart is racked with pain--it is impossible!" "It is possible, since you see me here--between the corpses of my son and my grandson--ready to give my opinion--" "If you insist, Victoria, I shall speak, provided I can collect my thoughts. I am of the opinion that Gaul needs for her chief a wise, firm and enlightened man, a man who inclines to peace rather than to war--especially now when we no longer have the neighborhood of the Franks to fear, thanks to the sword of this young hero, whom I loved and will eternally mourn--" At this moment the governor interrupted himself to give renewed vent to his grief. "We shall weep later," said Victoria. "Life is long enough, but the night is short. It will soon be morning." Tetrik wiped his eyes and proceeded: "As I was saying, the successor of our Victorin should, above all, be a man of good judgment, and of long and approved devotion in the service of our beloved Gaul. Now, then, if I am not mistaken, the only one whom I can think of who unites these virtues, is Captain Marion, whom we see here." "I!" cried the captain raising his two enormous hands heavenward. "I, the Chief of Gaul! Grief makes you talk like a fool! I, Chief of Gaul!" "Captain Marion," Tetrik resumed in a dismal accent, "I know that the shocking death of Victorin and his innocent child has thrown my mind into disorder and desolation. And yet I believe that at this moment I speak not like a fool but like a sage--and Victoria will herself be of my opinion. Although you do not enjoy the brilliant military reputation of our Victorin, whom we shall never be able to mourn sufficiently, you have deserved, Captain Marion, the confidence and affection of our troops by your good and numerous services. Once a blacksmith, you exchanged the hammer for the sword; the soldiers will see in you one of their own rank rise to the dignity of chief through his valor and their own free choice. They will esteem you all the more knowing, above all, that, although you reached distinction, you never lost your friendship for your old comrade of the anvil." "Forget my friend Eustace!" said Marion. "Oh! Never!" "The austerity of your morals is known," Tetrik proceeded to say; "your excellent judgment, your straightforwardness, your calmness, are, according to my poor judgment, a guarantee for the future. You have put into practice Victoria's wise thought that now the days of barren war are ended, and the hour has come to think of fruitful peace. The task is arduous, I admit; it can not choose but startle your modesty. But this heroic woman, who, even at this terrible moment, forgets her maternal despair in order to turn her thoughts upon our beloved country, Victoria, I feel certain, in presenting you to the soldiers as her son's successor, will pledge herself to assist you with her precious counsel. And now, Captain Marion, if you will hearken to my feeble voice, I implore you, I beg you in the name of Gaul to accept the reins of office. Victoria joins me in demanding of you this fresh proof of self-sacrificing devotion to our common country!" "Tetrik," answered Marion in a grave voice, "you have ably described the man who is needed to govern Gaul. There is only one thing to change in the picture that you have drawn, and that is its name. In the place of my name, insert your own--it will then be complete--" "I!" cried Tetrik. "I, Chief of Gaul! I, who in all my life never have held a sword in my hand!" "Victoria said it," replied Marion. "The season for war is over, the season for peace has come. In times of war we need warriors--in times of peace we need men of peace. You belong to the latter category, Tetrik; it is your place to govern--do you not think so, Victoria?" "By the manner in which he has governed Gascony, Tetrik has shown how he would govern Gaul," answered my foster-sister; "I join you, captain, in requesting--my relative--to replace my son--" "What did I tell you?" broke in Captain Marion, addressing Tetrik. "Would you still refuse?" "Listen to me, Victoria; listen to me, Captain Marion; listen to me, Schanvoch," replied the governor turning towards me. "Yes, you also, Schanvoch, listen to me, you who are as stricken as Victoria. You, who, in your nervous friendship for this august woman, suspected my sincerity; I wish you all to believe me. I have received an incurable wound here, in my heart, by the occurrences of this fatal night; they have bereft us at once, in the person of our unfortunate Victorin and in that of his innocent son, of the present and the future support of Gaul. It was for the purpose of securing and rendering the future certain that I sought to induce Victoria to propose her grandson to the army as the heir of Victorin, and that I have made this journey to Mayence. My hopes are dashed--an eternal sorrow takes their place--" After stopping for a moment in order to allow his inexhaustible tears to flow, the governor proceeded: "My resolution is formed. Not only do I decline the power that is offered me, but I shall also give up the government of Gascony. The few years of life left to me shall henceforth be spent with my son in seclusion and sorrow. At another time I might have been able to render some service to our country, but that is now past with me. I shall carry into my retirement a grief that will be rendered less unbearable by the knowledge that my country's future is in such worthy hands as yours, Captain Marion, and that Victoria, the divine genius of Gaul, will continue to watch over our land. And now, Schanvoch," added the Governor of Gascony turning once more towards me, "have I put an end to your suspicions? Do you still think me ambitious? Is my language, are my actions those of a perfidious or treacherous man? Alas! Alas! I never thought that the frightful misfortunes of this night would so soon afford me the opportunity to justify myself--" "Tetrik," said Victoria extending her hand to her relative, "if ever I could have doubted the loyalty of your heart, I would at this hour perceive my error--" "And I admit it freely, my suspicions were groundless," I added in turn. After all that I had seen and heard, I was, as Victoria, convinced of her relative's innocence. And still, as my mind ever returned to the mysterious circumstances that surrounded the events of that night, I said to Marion, who, silent and pensive, seemed overwhelmed with the tender that was made to him: "Captain, yesterday I asked you for a discreet and safe man to serve me as escort." "You did." "Do you know the name of the soldier whom you picked out for me?" "It was not I who chose him--I do not know his name." "And who chose him?" asked Victoria. "My friend Eustace is better acquainted with the soldiers than I am. I commissioned him to find me a safe man, and to order him to repair after dark to the town gate, where he was to wait for the rider whom he was to accompany on the journey." "And after that," I asked the captain, "did you see your friend Eustace again?" "No; he has been mounting guard at the outposts of the camp since last evening, and he was not to be relieved until this morning." "But at any rate we could learn from him the name of the rider who escorted Schanvoch," observed Victoria. "I shall let you know later, Tetrik, the importance that I attach to that information, and you will be able to counsel me." "You must excuse me, Victoria, if I do not acceed to your wishes," the governor replied with a sigh. "Within an hour, at earliest dawn, I shall leave Mayence--the sight of this place is too harrowing to me. I have a humble retreat in Gascony; I shall bury my life there in the company of my son; he is to-day the only consolation left to me." "My friend," said Victoria reproachfully, "do you leave me at such a moment as this? The sight of this place is harrowing to you, you say--and what about myself? Does not this place recall at every turn memories that must distress me? And yet I shall leave Mayence only when Captain Marion will no longer stand in need of whatever counsel he may think that he may be in need of from me at the start of his government." "Victoria," put in Captain Marion in a resolute tone, "I have said nothing during this conversation in which you and Tetrik have disposed of me. I am not fluent in words, moreover, my heart is too heavy to-night. I have said little, but I have reflected a good deal. These are my thoughts: I love the profession of arms; I know how to execute a general's orders, and I am not altogether unskilful in the management of troops confided to me. At a pinch I can plan an attack like the one which completed Victorin's great victory by the destruction of the camp and reserve forces of the Franks. This is to say, Victoria, that I do not consider myself more of a fool than others--wherefore I have sense enough to understand that I am not fit for the government of Gaul--" "Nevertheless, Captain Marion," Tetrik broke in, "Victoria will agree with me that the task is not beyond your strength." "Oh! As to my strength, that is well known," replied Captain Marion soberly. "Fetch me an ox, and I'll carry him on my back, or fell him with a blow of my fist. But square shoulders are not all that is wanted for the chief of a great people. No--no. I am robust--granted. But the burden of state is too heavy. Therefore, Victoria, do not put such a weight upon me. I would break down under it--and Gaul will, in turn, break down under the weight of my weakness. And, moreover, it might as well be said, I love, after service hours, to go home and empty a pot of beer in the company of my friend Eustace, and chat with him over our old blacksmith's trade, or entertain ourselves with furbishing our arms like skilful armorers. Such am I, Victoria--such have I ever been--and such I wish to remain." "And these call themselves men! Oh, Hesus!" cried the Mother of the Camps indignantly. "I, a woman--I, a mother--I saw my son and grandson die this very night--and yet I have the necessary fortitude to repress my grief--and this soldier, to whom the most glorious post that can shed luster upon a man is offered, dares to answer with a refusal, giving his love for beer and the polishing of armor as an excuse! Oh! Woe is Gaul, if the very ones whom she regards as her bravest sons thus cowardly forsake her!" The reproach of the Mother of the Camps impressed Captain Marion. He dropped his head in confusion, remained silent for a moment, and then spoke: "Victoria, there is but one strong soul here--it is yours. You make me ashamed of myself. Well, then," he added with a sigh, "be it as you will--I accept. But the gods are my witnesses--I accept as a duty and under protest. If I should commit any asininities as Chief of Gaul, none will have a right to reproach me. Very well, I accept, Victoria, but under two imperative conditions." "What are they?" asked Tetrik. "This is the first," replied Marion: "The Mother of the Camps shall remain in Mayence to help me with her advice. I am as new a hand at my new work as a blacksmith's apprentice who for the first time dips the iron into the brasier." "I promised you that I would, Marion," answered my foster-sister. "I shall remain here as long as you may need my services." "Victoria, if your spirit should withdraw from me, I would be like a body without a soul--accordingly, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I know that that promise must cost you a good deal, poor woman. And yet," added the captain with his habitual good nature, "do not run away with the idea that I am so foolishly vainglorious as to imagine that it is to the strong bull of a warrior, named Marion, that Victoria the Great makes the sacrifice of burying her grief in order to guide him. No--no. It is to our old Gaul that she renders the sacrifice. As a good son of my country, I am as thankful for the kind act done to my mother, as if it were done to myself." "Nobly thought and nobly said, Marion," replied Victoria deeply touched by these words of the captain. "Nevertheless, your straightforwardness and sound judgment will soon enable you to dispense with my advice; then," added she with an expression of profound pain that she strove to repress, "I shall be able, like you, Tetrik, to retire and bury myself in some secluded spot with my sorrows." "Alas," replied the governor, "to weep in peace is the only consolation for irreparable losses." "But," he proceeded, addressing the captain, "you referred to two conditions. Victoria has accepted the first; which is the second?" "Oh! As to the second, it is as important to me as the first," and the captain shook his head. "Aye, it is as important as the first--" "And what is it?" asked my foster-sister. "Explain yourself, Marion." "I know not," replied the good captain with a naïve and embarrassed mien, "I know not whether I ever spoke to you of my friend Eustace." "Yes, and more than once," replied Tetrik. "But what has your friend Eustace to do with your new functions?" "What!" cried Captain Marion, "you ask me what my friend Eustace has to do with me--you might as well ask what has the sheath of the sword to do with the blade, the hammer with the handle, the bellows with the forge." "You are, in short, bound together by an old and close friendship; we know it," said Victoria. "Would you desire, captain, to accord some favor to your friend?" "I shall never consent to be separated from him. True enough, he is not of a gay disposition; he is habitually sullen, often peevish. Still, he loves me as I do him, and we can not do without each other. Now, then, it may be considered surprising that the Chief of Gaul should have a common soldier, a former blacksmith, for his intimate friend and chum. But as I said to you, Victoria, if I must be separated from my friend Eustace, the plan falls through--I decline. Only his friendship can render the burden supportable to me." "Is not Schanvoch, my foster-brother, who remained a simple horseman in the army, a close friend of mine?" observed Victoria. "No one is astonished at a friendship that does honor to us both. It will be so, Captain Marion, with you and your old blacksmith friend." "And your elevation, Captain Marion, will redouble your mutual affection," put in Tetrik. "In his tender affection your friend will rejoice over your elevation perhaps more than yourself." "I doubt whether my friend Eustace will greatly rejoice over my elevation," replied Marion. "Eustace is not ambitious after glory. Far from it. He loves me, his old companion at the anvil, and not the captain. But, Victoria, always keep this in mind: The same as to-day you say to me: 'Marion, you are needed,' never be backward in saying: 'Marion, be gone; you are of no further use; someone else will fill the place better than you.' I shall understand the slightest hint, and shall gladly return arm in arm with my friend Eustace to our pot of beer and our armor. So long, however, as you will say to me: 'Marion, you are needed,' I shall remain Chief of Gaul"--and smothering a last sigh, "seeing that you insist that I fill the place." "And chief you will long remain to the glory of Gaul," put in Tetrik. "Believe me, captain, you do not know yourself; your modesty blinds you. But a few hours hence, when Victoria will propose you to the soldiers as their general, the acclamation of the whole army will inform you of the high opinion that is entertained for your merits." "The one who will be most astonished at my merits will be myself," replied the good captain naïvely. "Well, I have made the promise; it is promised; count with me, Victoria, you have my word. I shall withdraw--I shall go to my lodging and wait for my good friend Eustace. It is now dawn; he is due from the advanced posts, where he has been on guard since yesterday. He will be uneasy if he does not find me in." "Forget not, captain," I said to him, "to ask your friend for the name of the soldier whom he chose to escort me." "I shall remember." "And now, adieu," said the Governor of Gascony with a smothered voice to Victoria. "Adieu; the sun will soon be up. Every minute that I spend here is torture to me--" "Would you not stay in Mayence at least until the ashes of my two children are returned to the earth?" Victoria asked the governor. "Will you not accord that religious homage to the memory of those who have just preceded us to those unknown worlds, where we shall one day meet them again? Oh! May it please Hesus that that day be soon!" "Oh! Our druid faith will always be the consolation of strong souls and the support of the weak!" answered Tetrik. "Alas! But for the certainty of meeting again the beings whom we have loved in this world, how much more dreadful would not their departure in death be to us! Believe me, Victoria, I shall see long before you, these dear beings whom to-day we weep. Agreeable to your wishes, I shall render to them to-day, before my departure, the last homage that is due to them." Tetrik and Captain Marion withdrew, leaving Victoria, Sampso and myself alone. CHAPTER IV. FUNERAL PYRES. Left all alone to ourselves, we no longer repressed our tears. In silent and pious meditation we clad Ellen in her wedding gown, while you, my child, still slept peacefully. In order to attend to the supreme interests of Gaul, Victoria had heroically curbed her grief. After the departure of Tetrik and Marion she gave way to the overpowering sorrow that heaved her bosom. She wished to wash the wounds of her son and grandson with her own hands; with her maternal hands she wrapped them in the same winding cloth. Two funeral pyres were raised on the border of the Rhine, one destined for Victorin and his son, the other for my wife Ellen. Towards noon, two war chariots covered with green and accompanied by several of our venerated female druids proceeded to my house. The body of my wife Ellen was deposited on one of the two chariots, on the other the remains of Victorin and his son. "Schanvoch," said Victoria to me, "I shall follow on foot the chariot on which your beloved wife lies. Be merciful, brother, follow on foot the chariot on which lie the remains of my son and grandson. Before the eyes of all, you, the outraged husband, will thus be giving a token of pardon to the memory of Victorin. And I also, will, before the eyes of all, give token, as a mother, of pardon for the death that, alas! my son but too fully merited!" I understood the touching appeal that lay in that thought of mutual mercy and pardon. It was so done. A deputation of the cohorts and legions preceded the funeral procession. I followed the hearses accompanied by Victoria, Sampso, Tetrik and Marion. The chief officers of the camp joined us. We marched amidst lugubrious silence. The first outburst of rage against Victorin having spent itself, the army now only remembered his bravery, his kindness, his openheartedness. The crowds saw me, the victim of an outrage that cost Ellen's life, give public token of pardon to Victorin by my following the hearse that carried his remains; they also saw his mother following the hearse on which Ellen reposed, and none had any but words of forgiveness and pity for the memory of the young general. The funeral convoy was approaching the river bank where the two pyres were raised, when Douarnek, who marched at the head of one of the deputations of cohorts, profited by a halt in the procession to approach me. He said with pronounced sadness: "Schanvoch, you have my sympathy. Assure Victoria, your sister, that we, the soldiers, remember only the valor of her glorious son. He has so long been our beloved son as well. Why did he disregard the frank and wise words that I carried to him in the name of our whole army, on the evening after our great battle of the Rhine! Had Victorin taken our advice and mended his ways, had he reformed, none of these misfortunes would have happened--" "Your words, comrade, will be a consolation to Victoria in her grief," I answered Douarnek. "But do you know whatever became of the hooded soldier who committed the barbarity of killing Victorin's child?" "Neither I, nor any of those near me at the time when the abominable crime was committed, was able to catch the felon. He slipped from us in the tumult and darkness. He fled towards the outposts of the camp, but there, thanks to the gods, he met with condign punishment." "He is dead?" "Perhaps you know Eustace, the old blacksmith and friend of our brave Captain Marion? He was mounting guard last night at the outposts. It seems that Eustace has a sweetheart in town. Excuse me, Schanvoch, if I mention to you such matters on so sad an occasion, but you asked me, and I am answering--" "Proceed, friend Douarnek." "Well, instead of remaining at his post, and despite the watchword, Eustace spent a part of the night in Mayence. He was returning at about an hour before dawn, hoping, as he said to me, that his absence would have passed unnoticed, when he saw a hooded man running breathlessly near the posts on the river bank. 'Whither are you running so fast?' he cried out. 'Those brutes are pursuing me!' was the answer, 'because I broke the head of Victoria's grandson by dashing it against the cobble-stones; they want to kill me.' 'And they are right! You deserve death!' replied Eustace indignantly. Saying this he overtook the infamous murderer and ran his sword through him. The corpse was found this morning on the beach with his cloak and hood." The soldier's death destroyed my last hope of unraveling the mystery that hung over that fatal night. The remains of Ellen, Victorin and his son were placed upon the pyres, amidst the chants of the bards and druids. A sheet of flame rose skyward. When the chants ceased only two heaps of ashes remained. The ashes of the pyre of Victorin and his son were piously gathered by Victoria into a bronze urn, that she placed under a mural tablet bearing the simple and touching inscription: HERE REST THE TWO That same evening the two Bohemian girls left Mayence. Tetrick also took his departure after having exchanged the most touching adieus with Victoria. Captain Marion was presented to the troops by the Mother of the Camps and was acclaimed Chief of Gaul and general of the army. The choice evoked no surprise; moreover, being presented by Victoria, whose influence had in a manner increased with the death of her son and grandson, there was no question of his being accepted. The bravery, the good judgment, the wisdom of Captain Marion were long known and appreciated by the soldiers. After his acclamation, the new general pronounced the following words, which I later found reproduced by a contemporary historian: "Comrades, I know that the trade of my youth may be objected to in me. Let him blame me who wills. Yes, people may twit me all they please with having been a blacksmith, provided the enemy admits that I have forged their ruin. But, as to you, my good comrades, never forget that the chief whom you have just chosen never knew and never will know how to hold anything but the sword." CHAPTER V. ASSASSINATION OF MARION. Endowed with rare sagacity, a straightforward and firm nature, and ever solicitous of the advice of Victoria, Marion's government was marked with wisdom. The army grew ever more attached to him, and gave him signal proof of its loyalty and admiration up to the day, exactly two months after his acclamation, when he, in turn, fell the victim of another horrible crime. I must narrate to you, my son, the circumstances of this second crime. It is intimately connected, as you will discover, with the bloody plot that drew in its vortex all whom I loved and venerated, leaving you motherless, me a widower, and Victoria desolate. Two months had elapsed since the fatal night when my wife Ellen, Victorin and his son lost their lives. The sight of my house became insupportable to me; too many were the cruel recollections that clustered around it. Victoria induced me to move to her house with Sampso, who took your mother's place with you. "Here I am, all alone in the world, separated from my son and grandson to the end of my days," said my foster-sister to me. "You know, Schanvoch, all the affection of my life was centered upon those two beings, so dear to my heart. Do not leave me alone. Come, you, your son and Sampso, come and stay with me. You will aid me thereby to bear the burden of my grief." At first I hesitated to accept Victoria's offer. Due to a shocking fatality, I was the slayer of her son. True enough, she knew that, despite the enormity of Victorin's outrage, I would have spared his life, had I recognized him. She was aware of and saw the grief that the involuntary and yet legitimate homicide caused me. Nevertheless, and horrid was the recollection thereof to her, I had killed her son. I feared--despite all her protestations, and despite her warmly expressed desire that I move to her house--that my presence, however much wished for during the first loneliness of her bereavement, might become cruel and burdensome to her. Finally I yielded. Often did Sampso, in later years, say to me: "Alas, Schanvoch, it was only after I saw how tenderly you always spoke of Victorin to his mother, who, in turn, spoke to you of my poor sister Ellen in the touching terms that she did, that I, together with all those who knew us, understood and admired what at first seemed impossible--the intimacy of you and Victoria, the two survivors of those victims of a cruel fatality!" Whenever Victoria sufficiently surmounted her grief to consider the interests of the country, she applauded herself on having succeeded in deciding Captain Marion to accept the eminent post of which he daily proved himself more worthy. She wrote several times to Tetrik in that sense. He had left the government of Gascony in order to retire with his son, then about twenty years of age, to a house that he owned near Bordeaux, and where, as he said, he sought in poetry whatever solace he could find for the death of Victorin and his son. He composed several odes on those cruel events. Nothing, indeed, could be more touching than an ode written by Tetrik on the subject of "The Two Victorins," and sent by him to Victoria. Accordingly, the letters that he addressed to her during the two months of Marion's administration were marked with profound sadness. They expressed in a manner at once so simple, so delicate and so tender the affection he entertained for her family, and the sorrow that her bereavement caused him, that my foster-sister's attachment for her relative increased by the day. Even I shared the blind confidence that she reposed in him, and forgot the suspicions that were twice awakened in my mind against the man. Moreover, my suspicions vanished before the answer made to me by Eustace, when I questioned him regarding the soldier, my mysterious traveling companion and perpetrator of the assassination of Victoria's grandson. "Commissioned by Captain Marion to provide him with a reliable man for your escort," Eustace answered me, "I picked out a horseman named Bertal. He was ordered to wait for you at the city gate. After nightfall I left the advanced post of the camp contrary to orders and went secretly into the city. I was on my way thither when I met the soldier on horseback. He was riding along the bank of the river, and was on the way to meet you. I told him to say nothing of having met me, should he run across any of our comrades on the road. He promised secrecy, and I went my way. Early the next morning, as I was returning along the river bank from Mayence, where I spent part of the night, I saw Bertal running towards me. He was on foot; he was fleeing distractedly before the just rage of our comrades. When I learned from his own mouth the horrible crime that he even dared to glory in, I killed him on the spot. That is all I know of the wretch." So far from the information clearing up, it obscured still more the mystery that brooded over that fatal night. The Bohemian girls had disappeared; and all inquiries set on foot regarding Bertal, my traveling companion and subsequent perpetrator of such a horrible deed as the murder of a child, agreed in representing the man as a brave and honest soldier, incapable of the monstrous deed imputed to him, and explainable only on the theory of drunkenness or insane fury. Accordingly, my son, Marion governed Gaul for two months to the satisfaction of all. One evening, shortly before sunset, seeking some diversion from the grief that oppressed me, I took a walk into the woods near Mayence. I had been walking ahead mechanically a long time, seeking only silence and seclusion and thus penetrating deeper and deeper into the wood, when my feet struck an object that I had not noticed. I tripped and was thus drawn from my sad revery. At my feet lay a casque the visor and gorget of which were turned up. I recognized on the spot Marion's casque by those features peculiar to the casque that he wore. I examined the ground more attentively by the last rays of the sun which penetrated the foliage with difficulty. I detected traces of blood on the grass; I followed them; they led to a thicket; I entered it. There, stretched upon some tree branches that were bent and broken with his fall, I saw Marion, bareheaded and bathed in his own blood. I thought he was dead, or at least unconscious. I was mistaken. As I stooped to raise him and to give him some aid, my eyes caught his; they were fixed but still clear, despite approaching dissolution. "Go away, Schanvoch!" Marion said in a voice that though fainting indicated anger. "I dragged myself to this spot in order to die in peace--I threw myself into this thicket to escape detection. Go away, Schanvoch! Leave me alone!" "Leave you!" I cried, looking at him in stupor and observing that his blouse was red with blood just above the heart. "Leave you when your blood is flowing over your clothes, and when your wound is perhaps mortal!" "Oh, perhaps!" replied Marion with a sarcastic smile. "It is certainly mortal, thanks to the gods!" "I shall run to town!" I cried without stopping to consider the distance that I had just walked, absorbed as I was in my own sorrow. "I shall go for help!" "Ha! Ha! Ha!--to run to the city--and we are two leagues away!" replied Marion with a lugubrious peal of laughter. "I am not afraid of any help that you may bring, Schanvoch. I shall be dead in less than a quarter of an hour. But, in the name of heaven, go away!" "Are you resolved to die--did you smite yourself with your sword?" "You have said it." "No! You are trying to deceive me. Your sword is in its sheath." "What is that to you? Go away--" "You were struck by an assassin!" I exclaimed as I ran forward and picked up a sword still bloody, that my eyes just fell upon and that lay at a little distance. "This is the weapon that was used." "I fought in loyal combat--leave me--Schanvoch--" "You did not fight, and you did not wound yourself. Your sword lies beside you in its sheath. No, no! You fell under the blows of some cowardly assassin. Marion, let me examine your wound. Every soldier is something of a surgeon--if the flow of blood is staunched it may be enough to save your life--" "Stop the flow of blood!" cried Marion casting at me an angry look. "Just you try to stop the flow of the blood from my wound, and you will see how I will receive you--" "I shall endeavor to save you," I answered, "despite yourself." As I spoke I approached Marion who lay flat upon his back. Just as I stooped over him he bent both his knees over his stomach and immediately struck out violently with his feet. The kick took me in the chest and threw me over upon the grass--so powerful was the expiring Hercules. "Will you still bring me help despite myself?" asked Marion as I rose up, not angry but desolate over his brutality. If I should be overcome in this sad struggle, it was clear that I would be compelled to give up the hope of bringing help to the wounded man. "Very well! Die!" I said to him, "since such is your wish. Die, since you forget that Gaul needs your services. But be sure of one thing--your death will be avenged--we shall discover the name of your assassin--" "There has been no assassin--I gave myself the wound--" "This sword belongs to someone," I said picking up the weapon. As I examined it I thought I could see through the blood that covered it that its blade bore an inscription. To ascertain the fact, I wiped it with some leaves. While I was engaged at this Marion cried in agony: "Will you leave that sword alone! Quit rubbing upon the blade! Oh! My strength fails me, or I would rise and snatch the weapon from your hands. A curse upon you, who have come to disturb my last moments! Oh! It must be the devil who sent you!" "It is the gods who sent me!" I cried struck almost dumb with horror. "It is Hesus who sent me for the punishment of the most horrible of crimes! A friend slay his friend!" "You lie! You lie!" "It is Eustace who dealt you the wound!" "You lie! Oh! Why am I sinking so fast--I would smother those words in your cursed throat!" "You were struck by this sword, the gift of your friendship to an infamous murderer--" "It is false!" "'_Marion forged this sword for his dear friend Eustace_'--that is the sentence engraved upon this blade," I replied to him pointing with my finger at the inscription graven in the steel. "This is the sword that you forged yourself." "The inscription proves nothing," observed Marion in great anguish. "The man who struck me stole the sword from my friend Eustace--that's all." "You still seek to screen that man! Oh! There will be no punishment too severe for the cowardly murderer!" "Listen, Schanvoch," replied Marion in a sinking and suppliant voice: "I am about to die--nothing is denied to an expiring man--" "Oh! Speak! Speak, good and brave soldier. Seeing that, to the misfortune of Gaul, fatality prevents me from saving you, speak! I shall execute your last will--" "Schanvoch, the oath that soldiers give each other at the moment of death--is sacred, is it not?" "Yes, my brave Marion." "Swear to me--that you will reveal to no one that you found here the sword of my friend Eustace." "You, his victim--and you wish to save him!" "Promise me, Schanvoch, that you will do as I ask you--" "Save the monster from condign punishment! Never! No, a thousand times no!" "Schanvoch, I implore you--" "Your murder shall be avenged--" "Be, then, yourself accursed! You who say 'No!' to the prayer of an expiring man--to the prayer of an old soldier--who weeps--you see it. Is it agony?--is it weakness?--I know not, but I weep--" And large drops of tears rolled down his face that gradually grew more livid. "Good Marion, your kindheartedness distresses me! You, imploring mercy for your murderer!" "Who else would take an interest in the unhappy fellow--if I did not?" he answered with an expression of ineffable mercifulness. "Oh! Marion, those words are worthy of the young man of Nazareth, whom my ancestress Genevieve saw put to death in Jerusalem!" "Friend Schanvoch--mercy--you will say nothing--I rely upon your promise--" "No! No! Your celestial mercifulness only renders the crime more atrocious. No pity for the monster who slew his friend!" "Go away from me!" feebly murmured Marion, sobbing. "It is you who harrow my last moments! Eustace only slew my body--but you, pitiless before my agony, you torture my very soul!" "Your despair distresses me--and yet listen, Marion. It is not merely the friend, the old friend that the assassin struck at--" "For twenty-three years we never left each other's side, Eustace and I," Marion mumbled moaning. "No, it is not the friend only that the monster struck in striking you, it was also, and perhaps especially, the Chief of Gaul and general of the army that he aimed at. The mysterious cause of this crime may be of deep interest to the country's future. The mystery must be fathomed, uncovered--" "Schanvoch, you do not know Eustace. He cared little, I know, whether or not I was Chief of Gaul or general of the army. Moreover, what does that concern me--now, when I am about to live in yonder new worlds? All I ask of you is that you grant me this last request--do not denounce my friend Eustace. I implore you with clasped hands--" "Granted! I shall keep the secret, but under one condition, that you inform me how the crime was committed." "How can you have the heart to drive such a bargain--the peace of mind--a dying man--" "The welfare of Gaul may be at stake, I tell you! Everything points to an infernal plot in this dark affair, the first victims of which were Victorin and his son. That is why I insist upon learning from you the details of this atrocious murder." "Schanvoch--a minute ago I could still distinguish your face--the color of your clothes--now I see before me only a vague shape. Make haste, make haste!" "Answer--how was the crime committed? By Hesus, tell me, and I swear to you I shall keep the secret--not otherwise." "Schanvoch--my good friend--" "Was Eustace acquainted with Tetrik?" "Eustace never as much as spoke to him--" "Are you certain?" "Eustace told me so--he ever felt--without knowing why--an aversion for the governor--I was not surprised at that. Eustace loved only me--" "And he killed you! Speak, and I swear to you, by Hesus, that I shall keep the secret--otherwise, not!" "I shall speak--but your silence on the matter will not suffice me. A score of times I proposed to my friend Eustace to share my purse--he met my tender with insults. Oh! his is not a venal soul--not his--he has no money--he must surely be without any resources whatever--how will he be able to flee?" "I shall help him to flee--I shall furnish him the money that he may need--I shall be only too glad to rid the camp of such a monster with all possible speed!" "A monster!" murmured Marion reproachfully. "You are very severe towards Eustace." "How did he manage to inflict a mortal wound upon you, and what was his reason? Answer my question." "Since I was acclaimed Chief of Gaul and general, my friend Eustace became more peevish than ever before, and more sullen--than he usually was--he feared, poor soul, that my elevation would make me proud--" Marion choked in his speech. Throwing his arms about at random, he called out: "Schanvoch, where are you?" "Here I am, close to you--" "I see you no longer," he said in a sinking voice. "Lean my back against a tree--I am--smothering--" With no little difficulty I did what Marion desired; his Herculean body was heavy. Finally, however, I succeeded in drawing him up with his back against the nearest tree. Reclined against it, Marion continued in a voice that steadily grew feebler: "In the measure that--the ill temper of my friend Eustace increased--I sought to show myself even more friendly than usual towards him. I could understand his apprehensions. Already, when I was only a captain, he could not bring himself to treat me as his former companion at the anvil. When I became general and Chief of Gaul he took me for a potentate. As to myself, certain that I esteemed him none the less--I always laughed in his face at his rudeness--I laughed--I did wrong--the poor fellow was suffering. To make it short--to-day he said to me: 'Marion, it is a long time since we took a walk together, shall we take a stroll in the woods, near the city?' I had a conference with Victoria. But fearing to displease my friend Eustace, I wrote to the Mother of the Camps, excusing myself--and he and I started on our walk arm in arm. I was reminded of the days of our apprenticeship in the forest of Chartres--where we used to go to trap magpies. I felt buoyant--and despite my grey beard--knowing that nobody saw us--I indulged in all manner of boyish tricks in order to amuse Eustace. I mimicked, as in the days of our boyhood, the cry of--the magpies--by blowing upon a leaf held close to my lips. I did other monkey tricks of the same nature--It was singular--I never felt in better spirits than to-day--Eustace, on the contrary did not move--a muscle of his face--not--a smile could be extracted from him. We were a few steps from here, he behind me--he called me--I turned around--and you will see, Schanvoch, that there could not have been any wicked purpose on his part--only insanity--pure insanity. The moment that I turned around he threw himself upon me sword in hand--and--as he plunged the weapon into my side he cried: 'Do you recognize this sword, you who forged it yourself?' I admit--I was not a little surprised--I fell under the blow--I called out to my friend Eustace: 'What ails you? Explain yourself at least. Have I offended you in aught without knowing?' But I was only speaking--to the trees--the poor crazy man had vanished--leaving his sword beside me--another evidence of insanity--the weapon--you will notice--Schanvoch--the weapon--bore on the blade the inscription: 'Marion forged this sword for his dear friend Eustace.'" These were the last intelligible words of the good and brave soldier. He expired a few minutes later uttering incoherent words, among which these recurred with greatest frequency: "Eustace," "flee," "save yourself." After Marion had given up the ghost, I hastened back to Mayence in order to notify Victoria of the occurrence, nor did I conceal from her that my suspicions again pointed to Tetrik as having a hand in the plot. The man, I explained, left again vacant the government of Gaul by the removal of Marion, after Victorin and his son were gotten out of the way. Although desolate by the death of Marion, my foster-sister combated my suspicions with regard to Tetrik. She reminded me that I myself, more than two months before the murder of Marion, was so struck by the expression of hatred and envy betrayed by the face and words of the captain's old companion, that I said to her before Tetrik that Marion must be very much blinded by his affection to fail to perceive that his friend was devoured by implacable jealousy. Victoria shared the opinion of the good Marion, that the crime to which he had fallen a victim had no other cause than the envious hatred of Eustace, who was driven to the point of insanity by the more recent elevation of his friend. Besides, a singular coincidence, on that same day my foster-sister received from Tetrik, then on his way to Italy, a letter in which he informed her that seeing his health was daily declining, the physicians saw but one chance of safety for him--a trip to some southern country. For that reason he was on the way to Rome with his son. These facts, Tetrik's conduct since the death of Victorin, the touching letters that he wrote, together with what seemed to be the irrefutable arguments advanced by Victoria, once more overthrew my mistrust toward the Governor of Gascony. I also arrived at the conclusion, which was certainly justified on the face of the events, that, in view of the previous behavior of Eustace, the atrocious murder committed by him had no other motive than a savage jealousy, that was driven to the point of insanity by the recent distinction that fell to the lot of his friend. I kept the promise that I made to the good and brave Marion at the hour of his death. His assassination was attributed to some unknown murderer, but not to Eustace. I took the man's sword with me to Victoria; no suspicion was drawn to the actual felon, who was never more seen either at Mayence, or in the camp. Marion's remains, wept over by the whole army, received the pompous military honors due to a general and a Chief of Gaul. CHAPTER VI. THE TRAITOR UNMASKED. The direst day of my life since that on which I accompanied the remains of Victorin, his son and my beloved wife Ellen to the funeral pyre that was to consume them, was the day on which the following events took place. They happened, my son, two hundred and sixty years after our ancestress Genevieve saw the young man of Nazareth die upon the cross, and five years after the assassination of Marion, the successor of Victorin in the government of Gaul. Victoria no longer lived in Mayence, but in Treves, a large and magnificent Gallic city situated on this side of the Rhine. I continued to live with my foster-sister. Sampso, who served you as a mother since the death of my never-to-be-forgotten Ellen, Sampso became my second wife. On the evening of our marriage she admitted to me a fact of which I never had any doubt--that having always felt a secret inclination for me, she had decided never to marry, and to share her life with Ellen, you, my child, and myself. My wife's death; the affection and profound esteem that Sampso inspired in me; her virtues; the kindnesses that she heaped upon you; the love with which you reciprocated her tenderness towards you--you loved her as a mother, whose place she worthily filled; the requirements of your education; finally also the urgent requests of Victoria, who valuing the qualities of Sampso, warmly urged the union;--all these circumstances combined to induce me to propose marriage to your aunt. She accepted. But for the distressing recollections of the death of Victorin and Ellen, of whom not a day passed but we spoke with tears in our eyes; but for the incurable grief of Victoria, whose mind ever turned upon her son and grandson;--but for these circumstances I would, after so many misfortunes, have re-embraced happiness when I embraced Sampso as my wife. Accordingly, I shared Victoria's house in the city of Treves. The sun had just risen; I was engaged with some writing for the Mother of the Camps, seeing that I continued my offices near her. Her confidential servant, called Mora, stepped into the room. The girl claimed to have been born in Mauritania, whence her name of Mora. Like the inhabitants of that region, her complexion was bronzed, almost black, like a Negro's. Nevertheless, despite the somber hue of her face, she was handsome and young. Since the four years (remember the date, my son), since the four years that Mora served my foster-sister, she gained her mistress's affection by her zeal, her reserve and her devotion that seemed proof against all temptation to change her quarters. Occasionally, seeking some diversion from her sorrows, Victoria would ask Mora to sing, because the girl's voice was of remarkable sweetness and sadness. One of the officers of the army who had been as far as the Danube, said to us one day as he heard Mora sing, that he had heard those peculiar songs in the mountains of Bohemia. Mora seemed startled, and said that she learned the songs she was singing as a little child in the country of Mauritania. "Schanvoch," said Mora to me, "my mistress wishes to speak to you." "I shall follow you, Mora." "But before you go, one word, I beg you." "Speak--what is it?" "You are the friend, the foster-brother of my mistress--what affects her affects you--" "Undoubtedly--what are you driving at?" "You left my mistress last night after having spent the evening with her, your wife and son--" "Yes--and Victoria withdrew to her room, as usual." "Now listen--a short time after your departure, I took to her room a man wrapped in a cloak. After a conversation with the unknown man, that lasted deep into the night, instead of going to bed, my mistress was so agitated that she walked up and down the room until morning." "Who can that man be?" I asked myself aloud, yielding to my astonishment. Victoria was not in the habit of keeping any secrets from me. "What mystery is this?" Mora believed that I questioned her, an act of indiscretion on my part that I would have carefully guarded against, out of respect for Victoria. The girl answered: "After your departure, Schanvoch, my mistress said to me: 'Go out by the garden gate. Wait at the little door. You will soon hear a rap. A man in a cloak will present himself--bring him to me--and not a word upon this to anyone whatever--'" "You should, then, have abstained from making the confidence to me." "Perhaps I am wrong in not keeping the secret, even from you, Schanvoch, the devoted friend and brother of my mistress. But she seemed to me so agitated after the departure of the mysterious personage, that I thought it my duty to tell you all. There is another reason why I decided to speak to you. I led the man back to the garden gate--I walked a few steps ahead of him--he seemed to be in a towering rage, and he dropped terrible threats against my mistress. It was this that determined me to reveal to you the secret of the interview." "Did you notify Victoria of the threats made against her?" "No--I was hardly back to her when she brusquely--she who is otherwise so gentle towards me--ordered me to leave the room. I withdrew to a contiguous apartment, and from there I could hear my mistress walk the room all night in great agitation until dawn when she finally threw herself upon her couch. A minute ago she called me in and ordered me to bring you to her. Oh! If you had seen her! She looked so pale and somber! I thought it best to reveal to you all that had happened--" I hastened to Victoria in a state of great alarm. The sight of her struck me painfully. Mora had not exaggerated. Before proceeding with the thread of this narrative, and to the end of helping you to understand it, my son, I must give you some details upon the special arrangement of Victoria's chamber. In the rear of the spacious apartment was a species of niche covered with heavy curtains. In that niche, whither my foster-sister frequently retired in order to think of those whom she had loved so much, hung the casques and swords of her father, her husband and her son Victorin, over the symbols of our druid faith. In the niche also stood--a dear and precious relic--the cradle of the grandson of this woman, whom misfortune had so sorely tried. Victoria stepped towards me, reached out her hand, and said in a faltering voice: "Brother, for the first time in my life I have kept a secret from you; brother, for the first time in my life I am about to resort to ruse and dissimulation." She then took me by the hand, led me to the niche, drew back the heavy curtain that closed it from sight, and added: "Every minute is precious; step into that niche; remain there silent, motionless, and lose not a word of all that you shall hear. I hide you in time in order to remove suspicion." The curtains of the niche closed upon me; I remained in the dark; for a while I heard only Victoria's steps over the floor as she walked the room in evident agitation. I was in my hiding place for over half an hour when I heard the door of Victoria's room open and close. Someone stepped in and said: "Greeting to Victoria the Great!" It was Tetrik's voice, the same mellifluous and insinuating voice. The following conversation took place between him and Victoria. As she recommended to me, I engraved every word in my memory, and that same day I transcribed them, realizing the gravity of the dialogue. Another circumstance which I shall presently inform you of dictated the precaution to me. "Greeting to Victoria the Great," said the former Governor of Gascony. "Greeting to you, Tetrik." "Did the night bring counsel, Victoria?" "Tetrik," answered Victoria in a perfectly calm voice that was in strong contrast with the agitation under which I had just seen her laboring, "Tetrik, you are a poet?" "It is true--I sometimes seek in the cultivation of letters a little recreation from the cares of state--especially from my undying sorrow over the untimely departure of our glorious Victorin, whom, contrary to my expectations, I have survived. I must repeat it to you, Victoria, let us not speak of that young hero, whom I loved with the deep love of a father. I had two sons; I have only one left to me.--I am a poet, say you? Alas! Fain would I be one of those geniuses who render immortal the heroes of their songs--Victorin would then live in all posterity as he lives in the hearts of those who knew and mourn for him! But why do you broach the subject of verses? Have they any connection with the subject that brings me back to you this morning?" "Like all poets--you surely read your verses many times over in order to correct them--and then you forget them, if the term can be used, to the end that when you read them over anew, you may be struck all the more forcibly by anything that may hurt your eyes or ears." "Certes, after having written some ode under the inspiration of the moment, it has sometimes happened to me that, as the saying is, I let my verses sleep for several months, and then, reading them over again, was shocked at things that had at first escaped me. But poetry is not the question before us." "There is, indeed, a great advantage in first letting thoughts sleep and then taking them up again," answered my foster-sister with a phlegma that surprised me more and more. "Yes, the method is a good one. That which, under the heat of inspiration may not have at first wounded us--sometimes shocks our senses when the inspiration has cooled down. If the test is useful in the instance of frivolous matters like verses, should it not be all the more useful when grave matters affecting our lives are concerned?" "Victoria, I do not grasp your meaning!" "I yesterday received from you a letter that ran thus: 'This evening I shall be in Treves unknown to anybody. I conjure you, in the name of the most vital interests of our beloved country, to receive me in secrecy, and not to mention the matter to anyone, not even to your friend Schanvoch. Towards midnight I shall await your answer. I shall be found wrapped in my cloak near your garden gate.'" "And you granted me the interview, Victoria. Unfortunately for me it led to no decisive results, and so, instead of my returning to Mayence, as I should have done, I find myself compelled to remain at Treves, seeing you demanded time until this morning to arrive at a conclusion." "I shall be unable to arrive at any conclusion before submitting your proposition to the test that we just spoke of. Tetrik, I let your offers sleep, or rather I slept with them. Repeat to me, now, what you said to me last night. Mayhap what wounded me then may no longer seem so objectionable--" "Victoria, can you joke at such a moment?" "She who, even before having had to weep over her father and her husband, over her son and her grandson, rarely laughed--such a woman will assuredly not choose the hour of eternal mourning to indulge in jokes. Believe me, Tetrik, I repeat it, your last night's propositions seemed so extraordinary to me, they have thrown my mind into such perplexity, they have raised such strange thoughts, that instead of uttering myself under the shock of my first impressions, I prefer to forget all that we said, and to listen to you once more, as if you broached those matters for the first time." "Victoria, your eminent intellect, your powerful mind that has always been prompt and unerring in taking a decision, did not, I must confess, prepare me for such caution and hesitation." "Simply because never before in my life, now a long one, have I been called upon to utter myself upon questions of such moment." "Pray, remember that yesterday--" "I wish to remember nothing. To me our last night's interview is as if it had not been. Consider that it is now midnight, Mora has just let you in by the garden gate, and has brought you to me. Speak--I listen." "Victoria--what is it that you have in mind?" "Be careful--if you refuse to broach the matter in full, I might give you the answer that my first impressions dictated--and you know, Tetrik, that when I once utter myself, I do so irrevocably." "Your first impression is, accordingly, unfavorable," cried Tetrik in an accent of anguish. "Oh! It would be a misfortune, a great misfortune!" "Speak, then, if it is your desire to avert the misfortune." "Be it as you desire, Victoria, although such singular conduct on your part disturbs me. You desire it? I shall satisfy you--our last night's interview did not take place--I see you now for the first time after a rather long absence, although a frequent exchange of correspondence kept us in close touch with each other, and I say to you: It is now five years ago since, struck at my very heart by the death of Victorin--a fatal event, that carried away the hopes I entertained for the glory of Gaul--I lay almost dying in Italy, at Rome, whither my son accompanied me. According to the opinion of the physicians, the trip was to restore my health. They erred. My ailments increased. It pleased God that a Christian priest, whom a recently converted friend secretly introduced into my house, succeeded in reaching my bedside. The faith enlightened me--and, while enlightening me, performed a miracle--it saved me from death. I returned, so to speak, to a new life with a new religion. My son abjured, as I did, only in secret, the false gods that we had until then adored. At that stage I received a letter from you, Victoria. You informed me of the assassination of Marion. Guided by you, and as I had expected, he had governed Gaul wisely. I remained overwhelmed by such tidings; they were as distressing as they were unexpected. You conjured me in the name of the most sacred interests of our country to return to Gaul. None, you said to me, was capable of replacing Marion except myself. You even went further. I alone, in the new and peaceful era that opened to our country, could promote her prosperity by taking the reins of government. You made a vehement appeal to my old friendship for you, to my devotion for our country. I left Rome with my son. A month later I was near you at Mayence. You pledged me your far-reaching influence with the army--you were what you still are, the Mother of the Camps. Presented by you to the army I was acclaimed by it. Yes, thanks to you alone, I, a civil governor, who in my life had never touched a sword, I was acclaimed the sole Chief of Gaul, and you boldly and proudly declared on that day to the Emperor that Gaul, strong and feared, and henceforth independent, would render obedience only to a Gallic chief, freely elected. Engaged at the time in his disastrous war in the Orient against Queen Zenobia, your heroic peer, the Emperor yielded. I alone governed our country. Ruper, an old and tried general in the wars of the Rhine, was placed in command of the troops. In its undying idolatry for you, the army wished to keep you in its midst. I was engaged in developing in Gaul the blessings of peace. Always faithful to the Christian faith, I did not consider it politic to make a public confession of my belief, and I concealed from even you, Victoria, my conversion to a religion whose Pope is in Rome. Since the last five years Gaul has been prospering at home, and is respected abroad. I established the seat of my government and of the senate at Bordeaux, while you remained with the army, which covers our frontier, and is ever ready to repel either new invasions attempted by the Franks, or any attack undertaken by the Romans, should the latter attempt to curtail the complete independence that we enjoy and conquered so dearly. As you know, Victoria, I always sought inspiration from your eminent wisdom, either by visiting you in Treves, after you left Mayence, or through correspondence with you upon the affairs of the country. But I indulge in no delusions, Victoria; I am proud to admit the truth; it was only your powerful hand that raised me to headship; it is only your hand that keeps me there. Yes, from the seclusion of her modest retreat in Treves, the Mother of the Camps is in fact the Empress of Gaul--despite the power that I enjoy, I am only your first subject. That rapid glance over the past was necessary in order to clearly formulate the present--" "Proceed, Tetrik, I am listening attentively." "The deplorable death of Victorin and his son, the assassination of Marion, all these catastrophes tell you upon how slender a thread elective sovereignty hangs. Gaul is at peace; her brave army is more devoted to you than it has ever been to any of its generals; it overawes our enemies; all that our beautiful country now stands in need of, in order to reach the highest pinnacle of prosperity, is stability. The country needs an authority that will not be dependent upon the caprice of an election, which, however intelligent to-day, may be stupid to-morrow. We need a government that is not personified in a man, ever at the mercy of those who elected him, or of the dagger of an assassin. The monarchic institution, based as it is, not upon a man, but upon a principle, existed in Gaul centuries ago. It alone could to-day impart to the nation the vigor and prosperity that it lacks. Victoria, you dispose of the army, I govern the country. Let us join our strength for a common aim--the insurance of our glorious country's future; let us join, not our bodies--I am old, while you are still handsome and young, Victoria--but our souls before a priest of the new religion. Embrace Christianity, become my wife before God--and proclaim us, yourself Empress, me Emperor of the Gauls. The army will have but one voice in favor of elevating you upon a throne--you will reign alone and without sharing your power with anyone. As to me, you know it, I have no ambition to subserve. Despite my idle title of Emperor, I shall continue to be your first vassal. As to my son, we shall adopt him for our successor to the throne. He is of marriageable age; we shall choose for him some sovereign alliance--and the monarchy of Gaul will be established for all time. That, Victoria, was the proposal that I made to you last night--I repeat it to-day. I have again laid my projects bare before you and in the interest of our country. Adopt the plan; it is the fruit of long years of meditation--and Gaul will march at the head of the nations of the world." A long silence on the part of my foster-sister followed these words of her relative. She then replied with the calmness that marked her words since the entrance of Tetrik into the room: "It was a wise inspiration that caused me to wish to hear you a second time, Tetrik. You abjured in favor of the new religion the ancient religion of our fathers; but almost all Gaul is still loyal to the druid faith." "Hence it is that I considered it politic to keep my abjuration a secret, and in this I have acted in accord with the views of the Pope of Rome. But if you should accept my offer, and should yourself abjure your idolatry at our marriage, I shall then loudly proclaim my new belief, and, according to the opinion of the bishops, our conversion will draw in its wake the conversion of our people. Moreover I have the promise of the bishops that they will glorify you as a saint with all the magnificent pomp of the new Church. And, believe me, Victoria, a power that is consecrated in the name of God by the Gallic prelates and by the Pope of Rome, will be clothed in the eyes of the people with almost divine authority." "Tell me, Tetrik; you abjured the belief of our fathers in favor of the new, in favor of the gospel preached by the young man of Nazareth who was crucified two centuries ago. I have read that gospel. An ancestress of Schanvoch's witnessed the last days of Jesus, the friend of the slave and the afflicted. Now, then, nowhere have I found in the gentle and divine words of the young master of Nazareth aught but exhortations to renounce wealth, to meekness, to equality among men--and here are you, a fervent and recent convert, dreaming of royalty! The young man of Nazareth, so sweet, so tender of the sufferers, the sinners and the oppressed as he was, nevertheless broke out at times into terrible threats against the rich, the powerful, the worldly happy--above all and always he thundered against the princes of the church whom he branded as infamous hypocrites--and, here are you, a fervent and recent convert, seeking to place the royalty that you are striving after under the consecration of just such princes of the church, the bishops! The young man of Nazareth said to his disciples: 'When you pray, enter into your closet, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father which is in secret, and your Father which sees in secret will reward you openly'--and here are you, a fervent and recent convert, proposing to me to render our abjuration and prayers in public, pompously and solemnly, seeing that the bishops are to glorify my conversion in the face of the world. Truly, my feeble intellect, still closed to the light of the new faith, is unable to reconcile such shocking contradictions." "Nothing more simple. The gospel of our Lord--" "Of what 'Lord' do you speak, Tetrik?" "Of our Lord Jesus Christ, the son of God, or rather the incarnate God." "How the times have changed! During his life the young man of Nazareth did not call himself 'Lord'--far from it; he called himself the son of God, in the sense that our druid faith teaches us that we are all children of the same God. And in line with the teachings of our druids he declared that our spirit, emancipated of its terrestrial bonds, proceeds to unknown worlds where it animates rejuvenated bodies." "The times have changed--you are right, Victoria. Taken in an absolute sense, the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ would be but a weapon of eternal rebellion in the hands of the poor against the rich, the servant against his lord, the people against their chiefs--it would be the negation of all authority. Creeds on the contrary have the mission to strengthen authority." "I am aware of that. In the days of their primitive barbarism, and before they became the sublimest of men, our druids rendered themselves redoubtable to the ignorant, struck them with terror, and crushed them under their yoke. But the young man of Nazareth smote the atrocious knavery when he indignantly denounced the princes of the church saying: 'They bind heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and lay them on men's shoulders; but they themselves will not move them with one of their fingers.' All the more, if he is God, should his words be held sacred. You speak, Tetrik, very much after the fashion of the Pharisees of old, who caused the young man of Nazareth to be crucified." "Those are only sentimental views. Cultured minds, like yours, will understand the true meaning of those bitter criticisms, and the violent attacks of our Lord against the rich, the powerful and the priests of his days. His sermons in favor of community of property, his exaggerated mercifulness towards women of ill fame, the debauched, the prodigals, the vagabonds--in short, his preference for the dregs of the population with which he surrounded himself are not the means of government and authority. The priests and bishops of the new faith alone are able, by means of their sermons, skilfully to turn off the dangerous current of the thought of equality among men, of hatred against the mighty, of dispossessment against the rich, of liberty, of fraternity, of community of goods, of tolerance for the guilty--a fatal current that takes its source in certain passages of the gospel, which vulgar minds wrongfully interpret." "And yet it is in the name of those generous thoughts that so many martyrs have died in the past, and are still sacrificing their lives!" "Alas, yes! Jesus our Lord has remained for them the carpenter of Nazareth, who was put to death for having defended the poor, the slaves, the oppressed, the sinners, against those who then enjoyed power; he promised the former the goods of the latter saying that the day would come when 'the first would be the last.' It is for that reason that these martyrs preach with unconquerable heroism the doctrines of Jesus, the friend of the poor, the enemy of the mighty. The interests of both the present and the future, accordingly, dictate to you that you accept my offer. I resume: Take me for your husband; embrace the new faith, as I did; have yourself and me proclaimed Emperor and Empress; adopt my son and his posterity. All Gaul will follow our example and become Christians; we shall heap privileges and wealth upon the bishops, and they will consecrate in us the most sovereign and absolute authority ever vested in any emperor or empress!" At this point, Victoria's voice, that until then was calm and collected, broke out indignant and threatening: "Tetrik! The compact that you are proposing to me is sacrilegious--infamous! Yesterday I thought you were demented--to-day, when you repeat your proposition and expose to my gaze, even clearer than you did before, the abysmal depths of your infernal soul, I see in you a monster of ambition and of felony! At this hour the past lights up the present before me, and the present lights the future! Blessed be you, Hesus! I was not alone when this plot was unrolled to my ears! You inspired me, Oh, Hesus! I wished to have a witness, who, in case of need, could verify the reality of this monstrous proposal--Victoria herself would not be believed upon her unsupported testimony when she uncovers such dark designs! Come, brother--come, Schanvoch!" At Victoria's call I presented myself, crying: "Sister, I no longer say as I once did: 'I suspect this man!' To-day I accuse the criminal!" "Schanvoch!" answered Tetrik disdainfully, "your accusations are stale. This is not the first time that such silly words have dropped before my contempt--" "I formerly only suspected you, Tetrik," I said determinedly, "of having by your machinations brought on the death of Victorin and his son, who was still in his cradle. To-day I accuse you of that horrible plot. I prefer against you the charge of murder!" "Take care!" Tetrik answered pale, somber and with a threatening gesture. "Take care! My power is great--I can annihilate you--" "Brother," Victoria said to me, "your thought is mine--speak without fear--I also have power." "Tetrik," I proceeded, "I once only suspected you of being at the bottom of Marion's assassination--to-day I accuse you of that crime also!" "Crazy wretch! Where are the proofs of the charges that you have the audacity to hurl at me?" "Oh! You are prudent and skilful as well as patient. You break your tools in the dark after having used them--" "Those are idle words," answered Tetrik with icy coolness. "Your proofs, where are they! I laugh at your impotent threats." "The proofs!" cried Victoria. "They are embodied in your sacrilegious propositions. You conceived the project of being the hereditary emperor of Gaul long before Victorin's death; your proposition of having my grandson acclaimed the heir of his father's office was a lure meant at once to lead me off the scent of your designs and to furnish the first step of the ladder that you meant to climb." "Victoria, anger is blinding you! What a bungler would I have been--if, indeed, the ambitious object that I pursued was a hereditary throne for myself--to advise you to vest the power in your own stock--" "Aye! For one thing, the principle would have been accepted by the army. For another, once hereditary power was established for the future, you would have rid yourself of my son and grandson, in the manner that you did--by assassination. It is all now clear before me. That cursed Bohemian girl was your instrument; she was sent to Mayence in order to seduce my son, in order to drive him with her refusals to the infamous act that the creature demanded as the price of her favors. The crime once committed, my son would either be killed by Schanvoch, who was hastily called back to Mayence that very night, or he would be slain by the army, which received timely notice and was lashed to fury by your emissaries--" "Proofs--proofs--Victoria! Proofs!" "I have none, yet I state the facts! You managed to have my grandson killed the same night--torn from my arms. My stock is extinguished. Your first step towards empire was marked in blood. You thereupon declined power, and proposed the elevation of Marion. Oh! I admit it! Before that prodigy of infernal cunning, my suspicions, which were for a moment aroused, melted away. Two months after his acclamation as Chief of Gaul, Marion fell under the sword of an execrable assassin, your instrument again--" "Proofs!" broke in Tetrik impassibly. "Furnish the proofs!" "I have none, yet I state the facts. You remained the only available candidate for the office--Victorin, his son and Marion were killed. Thereupon, I unwittingly became your accomplice. I urged you to accept the government of the country. You triumphed, but only in part; you governed; but, you said it, you were but the first subject of the Mother of the Camps. Oh! I perceive it clearly! The hour has come when my power stands in your way. The army, Gaul, accepted Tetrik for their chief upon my request. It was not they who chose you. With one word I can break you, the same as I raised you to the place that you now are in. Blinded by ambition you judged my heart after your own; you thought me capable of wishing to exchange my influence over the army for the crown of an empress, and of enthroning my stock. You have entered into a dark compact with the Pope and bishops, looking to the eventual brutification and enslavement of this proud Gallic people which freely chooses its chiefs, and remains faithful to the religion of our fathers. Why, centuries ago this people broke the yoke of kingship through the sacred hands of Ritha-Gaur, and yet you now scheme to impose upon it a hated domination by allying your self with the new Church! Very well, I, Victoria, the Mother of the Camps, accuse you before the people in arms of intriguing for the subjugation of Gaul! I accuse you of having denied the faith of our fathers! I accuse you of entering into a secret alliance with the bishops! I accuse you of wishing to usurp the imperial crown and to render it hereditary in your family! I shall bring these charges against you before the people in arms, and shall pronounce you a traitor, a renegade, a murderer, a usurper! I shall demand on the spot that you be tried by the senate, and punished with death for your crimes!" The vehemence of the accusations of my foster-sister notwithstanding, Tetrik maintained his habitual composure. For a moment he had dropped the mask and flown at me with threats. Now he was himself again. Raising his hands heavenward, he answered with the most unctuous voice that he could summon: "Victoria, I considered the project that I submitted to you advantageous to Gaul--let us drop it. You accuse me; I am ready to answer for my acts before the senate and the army. Should my death, decreed at your instigation, be of any service to my country, I shall not refuse to you the few days of life that are still left to me. I shall await the decision of the senate. Adieu, Victoria. The future will tell which of us two, you or I, understood the country's interests better, and loved Gaul with the wiser love." Saying this he took a step toward the door. I dashed forward ahead of him, barred his passage and said: "You shall not go out! You mean to flee from the punishment that is due to your crimes--" Tetrik looked me from head to feet with icy haughtiness, and half turning towards Victoria, said: "What! In your house, violence is attempted upon an old man! Upon a relative who comes to you unsuspecting--" "I shall respect that which is considered sacred in all countries--hospitality," answered the Mother of the Camps. "You came to me freely, you shall go out freely." "Sister!" I cried. "Be careful! Your confidence has proved fatal once before--" Victoria interrupted me with a gesture, and said bitterly: "You are right--my confidence has been fatal to the country; it weighs upon my heart with remorse--but fear not this time." Saying this she rang the bell. Mora entered almost immediately. Her mistress whispered a few words in her ear and the servant quickly went out again. "Tetrik," Victoria proceeded, "I have sent for Captain Paul and several officers. They will come here for you. They will accompany you to your lodging--you shall not leave the place but to appear before your judges." "My judges! Who are to be my judges?" "The army will appoint a tribunal--that tribunal will judge you." "I can be tried only by the senate." "If the military tribunal finds you guilty, you will then be sent before the senate; if the military tribunal acquits you, you will be free. Only divine vengeance will then be able to reach you." Mora re-entered the room to inform her mistress that her orders were issued to Captain Paul. Afterwards I remembered, but, alas! too late, that Mora exchanged a few words in a low voice with Tetrik who sat near the door. "Schanvoch," Victoria said to me, "did you hear well the conversation that I had with Tetrik?" "Perfectly. I lost not one word." "Transcribe it faithfully." And turning to the Chief of Gaul she said: "That will be the indictment that I shall bring against you. It shall be read before the military tribunal that is to sit in judgment upon you." "Victoria," Tetrik replied calmly, "listen to the advice of an old man, who once was and still is your best friend. It is an easy thing to accuse a man, but to prove his crime is a more difficult affair--" "Hold your tongue, detestable hypocrite!" cried Victoria angrily. "Drive me not to extremes--" And clasping her hands: "Hesus! Give me the strength to be equitable towards this man. Calm down in me, Oh, Hesus! the ebullitions of anger that might unsettle my judgment!" Having heard steps behind the door, Mora opened it, and returned to her mistress, saying: "Captain Paul has arrived." Victoria made a sign to Tetrik to leave the room. He stepped out heaving a profound sigh and saying in penetrating accents: "Lord! Lord! Dissipate the blindness of my enemies! Pardon them, as I pardon them!" CHAPTER VII. THE VISION OF VICTORIA. When the room was cleared of the presence of Tetrik the Mother of the Camps said to her servant, just as the latter was about to leave close upon the heels of Tetrik: "Mora, my breast is afire. Bring me a cup of water with some honey, to cool me and slake my thirst." The servant hurriedly nodded her head and vanished with Tetrik, who lingered for a moment at the threshold. "Oh, my brother!" murmured Victoria despondently when we were again alone. "My long struggle with that man has exhausted me--the sight of evil lames my energies--I feel broken--" "Want of sleep, excitement, the horror that the sight of Tetrik inspired you with--all this has rendered you feverish. Take a little rest, sister; I shall instantly transcribe your conversation with the man. This very evening justice will be done." "You are right; I think that if I could sleep a while I should feel relieved. Go, brother, but do not leave the house." "Would you like Sampso to keep you company?" "No, I prefer to be alone." Mora re-entered. She carried a cup filled with the beverage that her mistress had ordered. The latter took the cup and drained its contents with avidity. Leaving my foster-sister to the care of her servant, I went back to my room in order to reproduce the words of Tetrik accurately. I was just about finishing the task, which took me nearly two hours, when Mora dashed in pale and frightened. "Schanvoch!" she cried panting for breath. "Come! Come quick! Drop your writing! Hasten to my mistress!" "What is the matter! What has happened?" "My mistress. Oh! Woe! Woe! Come quick!" "Victoria! Does any danger threaten her?" I cried, hurrying to the apartment of my foster-sister, while Mora followed me, saying: "She sent me out of the room--she wanted to be alone. A minute ago I went in--and, woe is me! I saw my poor mistress--" "Finish speaking--you saw Victoria--" "I saw her lying on her bed--her eyes open--but they were fixed--she seemed dead--" I shall never forget the frightful sight that struck my eyes as I stepped into Victoria's chamber. As Mora said, she lay stretched upon her bed motionless, livid, like a corpse. Her fixed, yet sparkling eyes, seemed to have sunk into their orbits; her features, painfully contracted, were of the cold whiteness of marble. A sinister thought flashed through my mind like lightning--Victoria was dying of poison! "Mora!" I cried throwing myself upon my knees beside the couch of the Mother of the Camps. "Send immediately for the druid physician, and run and tell Sampso to come here!" The servant rushed out. I took one of Victoria's hands. It was limp and icy. "Sister! It is I!" I cried--"Schanvoch!" "Brother," she murmured. As I heard her muffled, feeble voice, methought the answer proceeded from the bottom of a tomb. A moment later, her eyes, that until then were fixed, turned slowly towards me. The divine intelligence that formerly illumined the beautiful, august and sweet look of my foster-sister seemed extinguished. Nevertheless, by degrees, she recovered consciousness, and said: "Is it you--brother? I am dying--" Tossing her head painfully from one side to the other as if seeking something, she made an effort to raise her arm; it dropped immediately beside her; she then proceeded to say: "See yonder large trunk--open it--you will find in it--a bronze casket--bring it to me--" I did as I was bid, and deposited a rather heavy bronze casket near her on the couch. At that moment Sampso, whom Mora notified of Victoria's condition, came in. "Sampso," said Victoria, "take this casket--take it away with you--keep it carefully locked--open it in three days--the key is tied to the lid." And addressing me: "Did you transcribe Tetrik's conversation with me?" "I was just finishing it when Mora ran in to me." "Sampso, take that casket away to your room immediately, and bring me the parchment on which Schanvoch has just been writing. Go, we have not a minute to spare!" Sampso obeyed and left the room distracted. I remained alone with Victoria. "Brother," she said to me, "every minute is precious. Listen to what I have to say to you without interrupting me. I feel that I am dying; I think I know the hand that smote me, without her being herself aware of what she was doing. This crime caps a long series of dark and felonious deeds. My death is at this moment a grave danger to Gaul. We must avert the danger. You are known in the army--my confidence in you is known--call the officers and soldiers together--inform them of Tetrik's schemes. The conversation that you transcribed will be signed by me, in order to verify your words. My life is ebbing fast. Oh! If I but had the time to gather here around my death-bed the officers of the army who this very evening will surround my funeral pyre. Upon that pyre I wish you to lay the arms of my father, my husband and Victorin, also the cradle of my little grandson!" "Schanvoch!" cried Sampso precipitately entering the room, "The parchments that you left upon the table--have disappeared. But I saw them lying on your desk when Mora came in to call me. They must have been taken away since." "The parchments were taken away! Oh! What a misfortune to Gaul!" murmured Victoria. "What mysterious hand is it that can thus penetrate my house? Woe, woe is Gaul! Hesus! Omnipotent god! You call me to the unknown worlds, where, perhaps, we may hover over this world that we leave for yonder ones. Hesus! Am I to leave this earth without the assurance of the welfare of the country I love so much? The future terrifies me! Oh, Omnipotent! Allow your spirit to enlighten me at this supreme moment! Hesus, have you heard me?" added Victoria in a louder voice, half rising on her couch; and with inspired eyes she proceeded: "What do I see? Is this the future that unveils itself before my eyes? Who is that woman--so pale, lying prostrate? Her robe is blood-bespattered. Also her chaplet of oaken leaves has drops of blood; the sword, that her virile hand once held, lies broken at her side. One of those savage Franks, his head ornamented with a crown, holds the noble woman under his knees; he looks with mild and timid mien at a man splendidly arrayed as a pontiff. Hesus! The bleeding woman--is Gaul! The barbarian who kneels down upon her--is a Frankish king! The pontiff--is the Bishop of Rome! Blood flows! a stream of blood! it carries in its course, to the light of the flames of conflagrations, a mass of ruins, thousands of corpses! Oh! the woman--Gaul, I see her again wan, worn, clad in rags, the iron collar of servitude on her neck; she drags herself on her knees; bending under a heavy burden! The Frankish king and the Roman bishop quicken the march of enslaved Gaul with their whips! Another torrent of blood; still the glamour of conflagration. Oh, Hesus! Enough! Enough ruins and massacre! Heaven be praised!" cried Victoria, whose face seemed for a moment to beam with divine splendor. "The noble woman has risen to her feet! Behold her--more beautiful, prouder than ever before! Her head is wreathed in a crown of fresh oak-leaves! In one hand she holds a sheaf of grain, grapes and flowers; in the other a red flag,[4] surmounted by the Gallic cock. Superbly she tramples under foot the fragments of her collar of slavery, the crown of the Frankish kings and that of the Roman pontiffs! Yes, that woman, free at last, stately, glorious and fruitful--she is Gaul! Hesus! Hesus! Be kind to her! Enable her to break the yoke of Kings and Pontiffs! Lead her to freedom, glorious and fruitful without being compelled to reach the goal by wading from century to century through those seas of tears, those seas of blood that affright me!" These last words wholly exhausted Victoria's strength. Still she made one more effort in her divine exaltation. She raised her eyes to heaven, crossed her arms over her breast, heaved a long sigh, and fell back upon her couch. The Mother of the Camps, Victoria the Great, was dead! While she spoke I made superhuman efforts to control my despair. When, however, I saw her expire, I became dizzy, my knees sank under me, my strength, my thoughts fled. I lost consciousness, but I still recollect the sound of many voices and a great tumult in the contiguous apartment whence I heard distinctly the words: "Tetrik, the Chief of Gaul, is in his death agony--he is dying of poison--" CHAPTER VIII. CRIME TRIUMPHANT. For several days I lay at death's door, constantly attended, my son, by your second mother. About two weeks passed after the death of Victoria, before I was able to collect and co-ordinate my recollections, and speak with Sampso of our irreparable loss. The last words that struck my ears when, broken with grief, I wholly lost consciousness beside the death-bed of my foster-sister were these: "Tetrik, the Chief of Gaul, is in his death agony--he is dying of poison." Indeed Tetrik was, or rather seemed to have been, poisoned at the same time as Victoria. He had hardly stepped into the house of the general of the army, when he seemed seized with severe pangs. When two weeks later I myself returned to life, the life of Tetrik was still despaired of. I must admit I was stupefied at the strange information; my reason refused to believe the man guilty of a crime of which he was himself a victim. Victoria's death threw the city of Treves, the army, and later the whole nation into consternation. The funeral of the august Mother of the Camps seemed to be the funeral of Gaul herself. In her sudden taking-off people saw the presage of new evils to the country. The Gallic senate decreed the apotheosis of Victoria. It was celebrated at Treves in the midst of universal sorrow and tears. The pompous solemnity of the druid cult, the chant of the bards, imparted imposing splendor to the ceremony. Embalmed and lying on an ivory couch covered with cloth of gold, Victoria lay in state to the veneration of the citizens who crowded in mass to the house of mourning. The place was constantly invaded by that army of the Rhine of which Victoria was truly the mother. Finally her remains were placed upon the pyre, agreeable to the custom of our fathers. Incense rose along the streets of Treves, crossed by the funeral procession, which was headed by the bards singing on their golden harps the praises of the illustrious woman. The pyre was then set on fire and disappeared in a sheet of flame. A medal, struck on the very day of the funeral ceremony, represents, on its obverse, the head of the Gallic heroine, casqued as Minerva, and on its reverse, an eagle with outstretched wings flying into space with its eyes fixed upon the sun, the symbol of the druid faith--the soul leaving this world and flying towards the unknown world where it is to be clad in a new body. Under the symbol the ordinary formula was engraved: "Consecration," followed below by these words: VICTORIA, EMPEROR. By that virile appellation Gaul immortalized in her enthusiasm the glorious Mother of the Camps, and wreathed her memory in a title that she had steadily declined during life--a life that was at once modest and sublime, and wholly consecrated to her father, her husband, her son and to the glory and welfare of her country. My perplexity was profound. The poisoning of Tetrik, who, as it was claimed, still struggled with death, the disappearance of the parchments that contained the traitor's conversation with Victoria, and which she was thereby prevented from signing before dying--all these circumstances rendered the prosecution of the traitor difficult, if not impossible. An accusation lodged by me, an obscure soldier, against Tetrik, who survived as the supreme Chief of Gaul, and whose power was now all the greater, seeing it was no longer counterbalanced by the vast influence of the Mother of the Camps, could not lead to favorable results. Before deciding upon a final course in the matter, I waited for my shattered frame and mind to recover their former vigor. Three days after Victoria's death, and obedient to the last wishes of the Mother of the Camps, Sampso opened the casket that Victoria gave her. In it my wife found a last touching proof of the thoughtfulness of my foster-sister. There was a parchment with these words inscribed in her own hand: "We shall never part until death," did we, my good brother Schanvoch, often say to each other; it is your wish, it is mine; but if I am called away before you to live in the unknown worlds, where we shall one day meet again, I shall feel happy on the day when we shall meet again elsewhere than here, at the thought that you have gone back to Brittany, the cradle of your family. The Roman conquest plundered your family of its ancestral fields. Free once more, Gaul should, in the name of right or by force, have revanquished the heritage of your children from the descendants of the Romans. I know not what will be our country's condition, at the time of our separation. But, hap what hap may, there are three means by which you will be able to revindicate your just heritage--right, money or force. You have the right, you have the force, you have the money--you will find in this casket the sufficient sum with which to buy back, if need be, the fields that belonged to your family, and thenceforth live happy and free near the sacred stones of Karnak, the witnesses of the heroic death of your ancestress Hena, the Virgin of the Isle of Sen. You have often shown to me the pious relics of your family--I wish to join to them a souvenir of my own. You will find in this casket a bronze lark. I wore that ornament on my casque the day of the battle of Riffenel, at which I saw my son Victorin flash his virgin sword. I wish that you and your family may continue to keep this memento of our fraternal friendship. It is left to you by your foster-sister Victoria; she is of your family--did she not drink the milk of your brave mother? When you read these lines, my good brother Schanvoch, I shall have been re-born beyond, near those whom I have loved. Persevere in your fidelity to Gaul and the faith of our fathers. You have approved yourself worthy of your family. May your descendants approve themselves worthy of you, and write, without having to blush, the history of their lives, as Joel, the brenn of the tribe of Karnak, has desired them to do. VICTORIA. Need I tell you, my son, how deeply I was moved by such solicitude on her part? I was at the time steeped in gloom and absorbed by the fear of the grave events that might follow in the wake of Victoria's death. I remained almost insensible to the hope of speedily returning to Brittany, in order to end my days there, on the spot where my ancestors lived. When my health was completely restored, I repaired to the general who commanded the army of the Rhine. An old soldier himself, he was certain to appreciate better than anyone else the serious dangers that Gaul remained exposed to with Victoria's death. I frankly told him the schemes that Tetrik was hatching; I also expressed to him my suspicions regarding the poisoning of my foster-sister. The general made me the following answer: "The crimes and plots that you accuse Tetrik of are so monstrous, they would bespeak so infernal a soul, that I would hardly believe them, even if they were attested by Victoria herself, our august mother, whom we can never forget. Schanvoch, you are a brave and honest soldier, but your deposition will not suffice to bring the Chief of Gaul to the bar of the senate and the army. Besides, Tetrik is himself about to die; even his own poisoning proves to a certainty that he is innocent of Victoria's death. You would be the only witness against the Chief of Gaul, who has been loved and venerated up to now, seeing that he has always conducted himself as the first subject of Victoria, the real empress of the nation. Take my advice, Schanvoch, invigorate your spirit, that the sudden death of this august woman has so severely shaken. It may be that, shocked by the disaster, your judgment is led astray, and mistakes vague apprehensions for facts. Until now, Tetrik has governed Gaul wisely, thanks to the inspiration of our august Mother. If he dies, he will be regretted by us; if he survives the mysterious crime which he has himself narrowly escaped, we shall continue to honor the man who was pointed out to us by Victoria herself as the fit object of our choice." The general's answer proved to me that I would never succeed in causing the senate and the army to share my suspicions and convictions, both being so thoroughly prejudiced in favor of the Chief of Gaul. Tetrik did not die. Hearing of his father's predicament, his son hurried to Treves, and took his father in charge. When he became convalescent, Tetrik held lengthy interviews with the senators and the chiefs of the army. He manifested on the subject of Victoria's death so profound and, to all appearance, sincere a grief; he honored her memory in so pious a manner by a funeral ceremony at which he glorified the illustrious woman, whose omnipotent hand, he said, had so long supported him, and to whom he felt proud of owing his elevation; in short, he seemed so heart-stricken when, pale, worn with his illness, frequently breaking out into tears, and leaning on the arm of his son, he dragged himself with unsteady step to the sad solemnity, that he conquered the affection of the people and the army more completely than ever by the last homage that he rendered to the memory of Victoria. I then realized how utterly futile it would be to press my accusations against Tetrik. With my heart rent at seeing the fate of Gaul in the hands of a man whom I knew for a traitor, I decided to leave Treves with you, my son, and Sampso, your second mother, and repair to Brittany, the country of our family's nativity, there to seek some consolation for my sorrows. Nevertheless I felt bound to fulfil what I considered a sacred duty. By dint of constantly interrogating my memory on the subject of the conversation between Tetrik and Victoria, I succeeded in transcribing it a second time, word for word. Of this I made a second copy, and on the eve of my departure took the first draft to the general of the army. "You are of the opinion," I said to him, "that my reason wanders--keep this narrative--I hope the future may not prove to you the truth of my accusation." The general took the parchment, and dismissed me with the compassionate mien that is bestowed upon people whose mind is deranged. CHAPTER IX. KIDDA, THE BOHEMIAN GIRL. On leaving the general of the army I walked home disconsolate. Crime was triumphant. I returned home, to the house of my foster-sister, where I remained until my departure for Brittany. I was engaged with Sampso packing up the last articles needed on our journey, when the following unlooked-for events happened on that night. Mora, the servant, had also remained in the house. The woman's grief at her mistress's death touched my heart. On the night that I am writing about, my son, while engaged with your second mother in the preparations for our journey, we found that we needed another trunk. I went downstairs in search of one into a room that was separated from Mora's chamber by a rough wooden partition. It was past midnight. Upon entering the room where the trunk was, I noticed, to my no slight astonishment, that a bright light shone from the servant's room through the clefts of the partition. Fearing that the woman's bed might have taken fire while she slept, I hastened to peep through the clefts in the boards. I bounded back with astonishment, but quickly returned to my place of observation. Mora was contemplating herself in a little silver mirror by the light of two lamps, the gleam of which had first attracted my attention. But it was no longer Mora the Mauritanian; at least, her bronze complexion had disappeared! I now saw her a pale brunette, coiffed in a rich gold band ornamented with precious stones. The woman smiled at herself in the glass. She put a long pearl earring to one of her ears, and--strangest of all--she wore a corsage of some silvery material and a scarlet skirt. I recognized Kidda, the Bohemian girl. Alas! I had seen the creature only once, and then only by the light of the moon, on that fateful night, when, suddenly recalled to Mayence by the mysterious notification given me by my traveling companion, I slew Victorin in my house, together with my beloved wife Ellen. Rage followed close upon the heels of my stupor--a horrible suspicion flashed through my mind. I bolted from the inside the room in which I was; with a violent thrust of my shoulder--rage multiplied my strength a hundredfold--I broke down one of the boards of the partition, and suddenly I stood before the eyes of the startled Bohemian. With one hand I seized her and threw her upon her knees, with the other I took one of the two heavy iron lamps, and raising it over the woman's head I cried: "I shall shatter your skull if you do not immediately confess your crimes!" Kidda believed she read the decree of her death in my face. She grew livid and murmured: "Kill me not! I shall speak!" "You are Kidda, the Bohemian girl?" "Yes--I am Kidda." "You were formerly at Mayence--and, as the price of your favors, you exacted of Victorin that he dishonor my wife Ellen?" "Yes--that is so!" "You were acting under orders of Tetrik?" "No, I never spoke to him." "Whose orders were you, then, following?" "Of Tetrik's equerry." "The man is cautious," I thought to myself. "And the soldier who on that fateful night announced to me that a heinous crime was being perpetrated in my house--do you know who he was?" "It was Captain Marion's companion in arms, he was a former blacksmith, like Marion." "Did Tetrik also know that soldier?" "No, it was Tetrik's equerry who had secret conferences with him at Mayence." "And where is that soldier now?" "He died." "After Tetrik employed him to assassinate Captain Marion?" The girl looked puzzled. "Did Tetrik cause him to be put to death? Answer!" "I think so!" "And it is that same equerry who sent you to this house under the guise of Mora, the Mauritanian? Was it in order to disguise yourself that you painted your face?" "Yes--that is all so." "You were to spy upon your mistress, were you not?--and then poison her? Speak! If you believe in a God--if your infernal soul dares at this supreme moment to implore his help--you have but a minute to live--Speak!" "Have pity upon me!" "Confess your crime--you committed it under orders of Tetrik? Speak!" "Yes, I was ordered by Tetrik." "When--how did he give you the order to execute that crime?" "When I entered the room the second time--after I was sent to bring Captain Paul, who was to arrest Tetrik." "And the poison--you poured it into the drink that you were to present to your mistress?" "Yes--it happened that way." "And on that same day," I added, my recollections now thronging to my mind, "when I sent you to my wife, you purloined a parchment that lay on my table and that I had written upon?" "Yes, Tetrik ordered me to--he heard Victoria refer to the parchment." "Why, after the crime was committed, did you stay in this house down to to-day?" "So as to awaken no suspicions." "What induced you to poison your mistress?" "The gift of these jewels that I was entertaining myself with putting on when you broke in upon me. I thought I was alone!" "Tetrik came himself near dying of the poison--do you believe his equerry is guilty of that crime?" "Every poison has its counter-poison," answered the Bohemian with a sinister smile. "He who poisons others, removes suspicion from himself by drinking from the same cup, and he is safe through the counter-poison." The woman's answer was a flash-light to me. By an infernal ruse, and doubtlessly guaranteed against death, thanks to an antidote, Tetrik had swallowed enough poison to produce in him the identical symptoms that marked Victoria's agony and thus seem to share her fate. To seize a scarf that lay upon the bed, and, despite the resistance that she offered, to tie her hands firmly together and to lock her up in one of the lower rooms, was the affair of but an instant. I ran back to the general of the army. After finally succeeding in being admitted to his presence--a difficult thing owing to the hour of the night--I repeated to him the confession that Kidda had just made to me. He shrugged his shoulders impatiently and said: "Ever this same, rooted, thought--your mind must be wholly deranged. The idea of having me waked up to hear such crazy man's stories. Moreover, you have chosen ill the hour to prefer such charges against the venerable Tetrik. He left Treves last evening for Bordeaux." The departure of Tetrik was a heavy blow to my last hopes. Nevertheless, I pressed the general with such insistence, I spoke to him with such earnestness and coherence, that he consented to order one of his officers to accompany me back to the house, and take the Bohemian girl's confession in writing. He and I returned hurriedly to the house. I opened the door of the chamber in which I had left Kidda with her hands tied. She was gone! She must have gnawed at the scarf with her teeth, and fled by one of the windows that now stood open and that looked into the garden. In my hurry and the seething confusion of my brain I had omitted to guard against the chances of the woman's escape by that issue. "Poor Schanvoch!" said the officer to me with deep pity. "Your grief makes you see visions--be careful, or you will go crazy, altogether!" And without caring to listen to me any longer he left. The will of God be done! I now renounced all hope of uncovering the crimes of Tetrik. The next day I left the city of Treves with you and Sampso, and took the road for Brittany. * * * * * You will read, alas! with no little grief and apprehension, my son, the few lines with which I shall close this narrative. You will see how our old Gaul, after having fully reacquired her freedom by dint of three centuries of continuous struggle, after having become great and powerful under the influence of Victoria, was again to fall, not, it is true, completely under the yoke, but at least enfeoffed to the Roman Emperors through the infamous treachery of Tetrik. Finding his projects of marriage and usurpation thwarted by the Mother of the Camps, the monster had her poisoned. She alone, had she consented to abjure her faith and contract a union with him, could have cleared the path for him to reach the hereditary throne of Gaul. With Victoria dead, he realized the futility of persevering along that route. Moreover, he soon felt that, being no longer sustained by the wisdom and sovereign influence of that august woman, the people's affection for him was visibly ebbing. Seeing that with every day he lost some of his former prestige, and foreseeing his speedy fall, he began to cast about for the commission of one of the two acts of treason that I had long ago suspected him of contemplating. He labored in the dark to reduce Gaul, after the country had acquired its complete independence, back to the level of a dependency of the Roman Emperors. Long in advance, and by means of a thousand and one covert schemes, he sowed the germs of civil discord in the country. By these means Gaul's powers of resistance were weakened. He succeeded in re-kindling the old jealousies between province and province that had long been allayed. By means of deliberately practiced acts of favoritism and of injustice, he incited violent rivalries between the generals and also between the several army corps. When matters were ripe for the deed of treason he secretly wrote to Aurelian, the Roman Emperor: "The favorable moment for an attack upon Gaul has arrived. You will prevail easily over a people that is weakened by internal dissensions, and an army, one division of which is jealous of the other. I shall notify you in advance of how the Gallic troops are distributed, and also of their moves, in order to insure the prospects of your triumph." The two armies met on the banks of the Marne on the wide plain of Chalon. Agreeable to his promise, and acting in concert with the Roman general, Tetrik allowed the corps that he led to be cut off from the rest of the army. The Gallic legions of the Rhine fought with their wonted intrepidity, but it was of no avail. Their movements being known in advance by the enemy and overpowered by numbers, they were finally cut to pieces. Tetrik and his son took refuge in the enemy's camp. Our army being out of the way, and our country divided against itself, as it had never been before even during the darkest days of our history, victory was rendered an easy matter to the Romans. After re-enjoying absolute freedom for many a year, Gaul became a Roman province once more. As Caesar had done before him, in order to glorify the great event, the Emperor Aurelian made a solemn entry into the Roman capital. All the captives, gathered by that emperor in the course of his long wars in Asia, marched before his chariot. Among these the queen of the Orient was seen, the heroine who emulated Victoria--Zenobia. She was loaded with golden chains riveted to the gold collar that she wore around her neck. Behind Zenobia marched Tetrik, the last Chief of Gaul before the country relapsed into a province of Rome. Tetrik and his son marched free and with heads erect, despite their infamous treachery. They wore long purple mantles over silk tunics and breeches. They represented in the procession the recent submission of the Gauls to Aurelian the Emperor. Alas! my son, the history of our fathers will teach you that one day, three hundred years ago, another Gaul also marched before the triumphal chariot of a Roman Emperor, Caesar. That Gaul did not march in brilliant array, with audacious mien and with smiles for his vanquisher. That captive was loaded with chains, he was clad in rags, and was hardly able to walk; he was that day taken out of the dungeon where he had languished four years after having defended the freedom of Gaul inch by inch against the victorious armies of the great Caesar. That captive, one of the most heroic martyrs of our country and our independence, was called Vercingetorix, the Chief of the Hundred Valleys. After the triumphal march of Caesar, the head of the valiant defender of Gaul was cut off. After the triumphal march of Aurelian, Tetrik, the renegade who delivered his country to the foreigner, was led with pomp to a splendid palace, the price of his sacrilegious treason. Let not the contrast cause you to despair of virtue, my son. The justice of Hesus is eternal. Traitors will receive their punishment. EPILOGUE. The narrative of my father Amael's great-grandfather Schanvoch on the events that transpired in Gaul--after the death of Victoria the Great, during the time that, living retiredly in Brittany on the fields of our ancestors that he bought back from a Roman colonist, he quietly spent his life with his son Alguen and his second wife Sampso--ends here. While it is true that Gaul was again a province of Rome, nevertheless, all the practical franchises, that we reconquered so dearly by innumerable insurrections, and paid for with the blood of our fathers, have remained to us. None has dared, none will dare to deprive us of them. We shall preserve our laws and customs; we shall enjoy our full rights as citizens. Our incorporation with the Empire, the impost that we pay into the fisc, and our name of "Roman Gaul"--these are the only evidences of our dependence. Such a chain may not be heavy; but, light as it be, a chain it is. I doubt not that some day we shall be able to break it. The apprehensions that weighed upon my great-great-grandfather Schanvoch's mind and that continue to weigh upon mine do not arise from that quarter. No! The dangers that we apprehend--if faith is to be attached to the prediction made by Victoria upon her death-bed; the danger, that has filled us with dread for the future, rises from the once more swelling number of the Frankish hordes on the other side of the Rhine, and in the dark machinations of the bishops of the new religion. My great-great-grandfather Schanvoch died peaceably in our house, situated near the sacred stones of Karnak. He left the narrative that he wrote, and the casque's lark, given him by Victoria, together with the previous narratives of our family and the relics that accompany them, to his son Alguen. After a long and peaceful life Alguen died, three hundred and forty years after our ancestress Genevieve saw Jesus of Nazareth perish on the cross. Alguen's son Roderik, my grandfather, inherited from his father both our family records and relics, and a quiet, peaceful and contented life, all of which he bequeathed to his son, my father Amael, who in turn bequeathed them to me, Gildas. I then, Gildas, make this entry to-day in our family annals three hundred and seventy-five years after the death of Jesus. I feel sad on this occasion. My father had intended to add a few words to our family annals. He postponed doing so from day to day, seeing there was nothing that he desired to make particular mention of to our descendants, his life being the uneventful one of a quiet, industrious and obscure husbandman. Two days ago my father died. He died in our own house, near the stones of Karnak, after a short illness. The frightful predictions of Victoria, the illustrious foster-sister of my ancestor Schanvoch, have not been verified. May they never be! Gaul continues a dependence of the Roman Emperors. Occasionally a traveler reaches these parts, penetrating into these remote regions of our old Armorica. From them we have learned that, in some of the other provinces there have been several popular uprisings of considerable strength and generally called "Bagaudies." These uprisings must have taken place shortly after the death of my ancestor Schanvoch. Brittany has remained free from the revolts of the "Bagauders." The region enjoys profound tranquility. The impost that we pay into the emperor's fisc is not too heavy. We live peacefully and free. Several of our ancestors, during the darksome days of their enslavement to Rome, and when they were steeped in ignorance and misery, recorded on our family parchments that such was the leaden uniformity of their days, spent by them from dawn to dusk, in oppressive labors, that they had nothing to say except: "I was born, I have lived and I shall die in the sorrows of slavery." May it please the gods that the happiness of the generations that are to follow me be in turn, so uniform, that each of my descendants may, as I do now, have nothing to add to our family chronicles but these lines with which I shall close my narrative: "I have lived happy, peaceful and obscure in our Armorican Brittany cultivating our ancestral fields with the help of my family. I shall depart from this world without fear or regret when it will please Hesus to call me away to live again in yonder unknown worlds." I am now aged eighteen years. The family relics in my possession consist of Hena's gold sickle, Guilhern's little brass bell, Sylvest's iron collar, Genevieve's silver cross, and the casque's lark of Schanvoch. THE END. FOOTNOTES [1] The Frankish chiefs, at the time of the conquest, daubed their hair with tallow mixed with crushed limestone, to make their hair a glaring reddish-yellow. Such was the beauty of the period. [2] Ardent, or Fiery. See "The Brass Bell," the second work of this series. [3] For the source of these recollections, see the third volume of this series, entitled "The Iron Collar." [4] The color of the Gallic emblem was crimson red. 
10657	----	Proofreaders [Transcriber's Note: Typographical errors in the original have been corrected and noted using the notation ** . Macrons, breves, umlauts etc have been removed from the body of the text since they were very obtrusive and made reading difficult. However, they are retained in the Index for reference. The convention used for these marks is: Macron (straight line over letter) [=x] Umlaut (2 dots over letter) [:x] Grave accent [`x] Acute accent ['x] Circumflex [^x] Breve (u-shaped symbol over letter) [)x] Cedilla [,x] ] * * * * * EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY EDITED BY ERNEST RHYS CLASSICAL CAESAR'S COMMENTARIES TRANSLATED BY W. A. MACDEVITT WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY THOMAS DE QUINCEY THIS IS NO. 702 OF _EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY_. THE PUBLISHERS WILL BE PLEASED TO SEND FREELY TO ALL APPLICANTS A LIST OF THE PUBLISHED AND PROJECTED VOLUMES ARRANGED UNDER THE FOLLOWING SECTIONS: * * * * * TRAVEL--SCIENCE--FICTION THEOLOGY & PHILOSOPHY HISTORY--CLASSICAL FOR YOUNG PEOPLE ESSAYS--ORATORY POETRY & DRAMA BIOGRAPHY REFERENCE ROMANCE * * * * * THE ORDINARY EDITION IS BOUND IN CLOTH WITH GILT DESIGN AND COLOURED TOP. THERE IS ALSO A LIBRARY EDITION IN REINFORCED CLOTH THE SAGES OF OLD LIVE AGAIN IN US GLANVILL "DE BELLO GALLICO" & OTHER COMMENTARIES: OF CAIUS JULIUS CAESAR FIRST PUBLISHED IN THIS EDITION, 1915 REPRINTED 1923, 1929 INTRODUCTION BY THOMAS DE QUINCEY The character of the First Caesar has perhaps never been worse appreciated than by him who in one sense described it best; that is, with most force and eloquence wherever he really _did_ comprehend it. This was Lucan, who has nowhere exhibited more brilliant rhetoric, nor wandered more from the truth, than in the contrasted portraits of Caesar and Pompey. The famous line, _"Nil actum reputans si quid superesset agendum,"_ is a fine feature of the real character, finely expressed. But, if it had been Lucan's purpose (as possibly, with a view to Pompey's benefit, in some respects it was) utterly and extravagantly to falsify the character of the great Dictator, by no single trait could he more effectually have fulfilled that purpose, nor in fewer words, than by this expressive passage, _"Gaudensque viam fecisse ruina."_ Such a trait would be almost extravagant applied even to Marius, who (though in many respects a perfect model of Roman grandeur, massy, columnar, imperturbable, and more perhaps than any one man recorded in History capable of justifying the bold illustration of that character in Horace, "_Si fractus illabatur orbis, impavidum ferient ruinae_") had, however, a ferocity in his character, and a touch of the devil in him, very rarely united with the same tranquil intrepidity. But, for Caesar, the all-accomplished statesman, the splendid orator, the man of elegant habits and polished taste, the patron of the fine arts in a degree transcending all example of his own or the previous age, and as a man of general literature so much beyond his contemporaries, except Cicero, that he looked down even upon the brilliant Sylla as an illiterate person--to class such a man with the race of furious destroyers exulting in the desolations they spread is to err not by an individual trait, but by the whole genus. The Attilas and the Tamerlanes, who rejoice in avowing themselves the scourges of God, and the special instruments of his wrath, have no one feature of affinity to the polished and humane Caesar, and would as little have comprehended his character as he could have respected theirs. Even Cato, the unworthy hero of Lucan, might have suggested to him a little more truth in this instance, by a celebrated remark which he made on the characteristic distinction of Caesar, in comparison with other revolutionary disturbers; for, said he, whereas others had attempted the overthrow of the state in a continued paroxysm of fury, and in a state of mind resembling the lunacy of intoxication, Caesar, on the contrary, among that whole class of civil disturbers, was the only one who had come to the task in a temper of sobriety and moderation _(unum accessisse sobrium ad rempublicam delendam)_.... Great as Caesar was by the benefit of his original nature, there can be no doubt that he, like others, owed something to circumstances; and perhaps amongst those which were most favourable to the premature development of great self-dependence we must reckon the early death of his father. It is, or it is not, according to the nature of men, an advantage to be orphaned at as early age. Perhaps utter orphanage is rarely or never such: but to lose a father betimes may, under appropriate circumstances, profit a strong mind greatly. To Caesar it was a prodigious benefit that he lost his father when not much more than fifteen. Perhaps it was an advantage also to his father that he died thus early. Had he stayed a year longer, he might have seen himself despised, baffled, and made ridiculous. For where, let us ask, in any age, was the father capable of adequately sustaining that relation to the unique Caius Julius--to him, in the appropriate language of Shakespeare "The foremost man of all this world?" And, in this fine and Caesarean line, "this world" is to be understood not of the order of co-existences merely,` but also of the order of successions; he was the foremost man not only of his contemporaries, but also, within his own intellectual class, of men generally--of all that ever should come after him, or should sit on thrones under the denominations of Czars, Kesars, or Caesars of the Bosphorus and the Danube; of all in every age that should inherit his supremacy of mind, or should subject to themselves the generations of ordinary men by qualities analogous to his. Of this infinite superiority some part must be ascribed to his early emancipation from paternal control. There are very many cases in which, simply from considerations of sex, a female cannot stand forward as the head of a family, or as its suitable representative. If they are even ladies paramount, and in situations of command, they are also women. The staff of authority does not annihilate their sex; and scruples of female delicacy interfere for ever to unnerve and emasculate in their hands the sceptre however otherwise potent. Hence we see, in noble families, the merest boys put forward to represent the family dignity, as fitter supporters of that burden than their mature mothers. And of Caesar's mother, though little is recorded, and that little incidentally, this much at least we learn--that, if she looked down upon him with maternal pride and delight, she looked up to him with female ambition as the re-edifier of her husband's honours,-- looked with reverence as to a column of the Roman grandeur and with fear and feminine anxieties as to one whose aspiring spirit carried him but too prematurely into the fields of adventurous strife. One slight and evanescent sketch of the relations which subsisted between Caesar and his mother, caught from the wrecks of time, is preserved both by Plutarch and Suetonius. We see in the early dawn the young patrician standing upon the steps of his patrimonial portico, his mother with her arms wreathed about his neck, looking up to his noble countenance, sometimes drawing auguries of hope from features so fitted for command, sometimes boding an early blight to promises so dangerously magnificent. That she had something of her son's aspiring character, or that he presumed so much in a mother of his, we learn from the few words which survive of their conversation. He addressed to her no language that could tranquillise her fears. On the contrary, to any but a Roman mother his valedictory words, taken in connexion with the known determination of his character, were of a nature to consummate her depression, as they tended to confirm the very worst of her fears. He was then going to stand his chance in a popular electioneering contest for an office of the highest dignity, and to launch himself upon the storms of the Campus Martius. At that period, besides other and more ordinary dangers, the bands of gladiators, kept in the pay of the more ambitious or turbulent amongst the Roman nobles, gave a popular tone of ferocity and of personal risk to the course of such contests; and, either to forestall the victory of an antagonist, or to avenge their own defeat, it was not at all impossible that a body of incensed competitors might intercept his final triumph by assassination. For this danger, however, he had no leisure in his thoughts of consolation; the sole danger which _he_ contemplated, or supposed his mother to contemplate, was the danger of defeat, and for that he reserved his consolations. He bade her fear nothing; for that his determination was to return with victory, and with the ensigns of the dignity he sought, or to return a corpse. Early indeed did Caesar's trials commence; and it is probable, that, had not the death of his father, by throwing him prematurely upon his own resources, prematurely developed the masculine features of his character, forcing him whilst yet a boy under the discipline of civil conflict and the yoke of practical life, even _his_ energies might have been insufficient to sustain them. His age is not exactly ascertained; but it is past a doubt that he had not reached his twentieth year when he had the hardihood to engage in a struggle with Sylla, then Dictator, and exercising the immoderate powers of that office with the licence and the severity which History has made so memorable. He had neither any distinct grounds of hope, nor any eminent example at that time, to countenance him in this struggle--which yet he pushed on in the most uncompromising style, and to the utmost verge of defiance. The subject of the contest gives it a further interest. It was the youthful wife of the youthful Caesar who stood under the shadow of the great Dictator's displeasure; not personally, but politically, on account of her connexions: and her it was, Cornelia, the daughter of a man who had been four times consul, that Caesar was required to divorce: but he spurned the haughty mandate, and carried his determination to a triumphant issue, notwithstanding his life was at stake, and at one time saved only by shifting his place of concealment every night; and this young lady it was who afterwards became the mother of his only daughter. Both mother and daughter, it is remarkable, perished prematurely, and at critical periods of Caesar's life; for it is probable enough that these irreparable wounds to Caesar's domestic affections threw him with more exclusiveness of devotion upon the fascinations of glory and ambition than might have happened under a happier condition of his private life. That Caesar should have escaped destruction in this unequal contest with an enemy then wielding the whole thunders of the state, is somewhat surprising; and historians have sought their solution of the mystery in the powerful intercessions of the vestal virgins, and several others of high rank amongst the connexions of his great house. These may have done something; but it is due to Sylla, who had a sympathy with everything truly noble, to suppose him struck with powerful admiration for the audacity of the young patrician, standing out in such severe solitude among so many examples of timid concession; and that to this magnanimous feeling in the Dictator much of the indulgence which he showed may have been really due. In fact, according to some accounts, it was not Sylla, but the creatures of Sylla (_adjutores_), who pursued Caesar. We know, at all events, that Sylla formed a right estimate of Caesar's character, and that, from the complexion of his conduct in this one instance, he drew that famous prophecy of his future destiny; bidding his friends beware of that slipshod boy, "for that in him lay couchant many a Marius." A grander testimony to the awe which Caesar inspired, or from one who knew better the qualities of that Cyclopean man by whose scale he measured the patrician boy, cannot be imagined. It is not our intention, or consistent with our plan, to pursue this great man through the whole circumstances of his romantic career; though it is certain that many parts of his life require investigation much keener than has ever been applied to them, and that many might be placed in a new light. Indeed, the whole of this most momentous section of ancient history ought to be recomposed with the critical scepticism of a Niebuhr, and the same comprehensive collation, resting, if possible, on the felicitous interpretation of authorities. In reality it is the hinge upon which turned the future destiny of the whole earth, and, having therefore a common relation to all modern nations whatsoever, should naturally have been cultivated with the zeal which belongs to a personal concern. In general, the anecdotes which express most vividly the grandeur of character in the first Caesar are those which illustrate his defiance of danger in extremity: the prodigious energy and rapidity of his decisions and motions in the field (looking to which it was that Cicero called him [Greek: teras] or portentous revelation); the skill with which he penetrated the designs of his enemies, and the electric speed with which he met disasters with remedy and reparation, or, where that was impossible, with relief; the extraordinary presence of mind which he showed in turning adverse omens to his own advantage, as when, upon stumbling in coming on shore (which was esteemed a capital omen of evil), he transfigured as it were in one instant its whole meaning by exclaiming, "Thus, and by this contact with the earth, do I take possession of thee, O Africa!" in that way giving to an accident the semblance of a symbolic purpose. Equally conspicuous was the grandeur of fortitude with which he faced the whole extent of a calamity when palliation could do no good, "non negando, minuendove, sed insuper amplificando, _ementiendoque_"; as when, upon finding his soldiery alarmed at the approach of Juba, with forces really great, but exaggerated by their terrors, he addressed them in a military harangue to the following effect:--"Know that within a few days the king will come up with us, bringing with him sixty thousand legionaries, thirty thousand cavalry, one hundred thousand light troops, besides three hundred elephants. Such being the case, let me hear no more of conjectures and opinions, for you have now my warrant for the fact, whose information is past doubting. Therefore, be satisfied; otherwise, I will put every man of you on board some crazy old fleet, and whistle you down the tide--no matter under what winds, no matter towards what shore." Finally, we might seek for _characteristic_ anecdotes of Caesar in his unexampled liberalities and contempt of money. Upon this last topic it is the just remark of Casaubon that some instances of Caesar's munificence have been thought apocryphal, or to rest upon false readings, simply from ignorance of the heroic scale upon which the Roman splendours of that age proceeded. A forum which Caesar built out of the products of his last campaign, by way of a present to the Roman people, cost him--for the ground merely on which it stood-- nearly eight hundred thousand pounds. To the citizens of Rome he presented, in one _congiary_, about two guineas and a half a head. To his army, in one _donation_, upon the termination of the Civil War, he gave a sum which allowed about two hundred pounds a man to the infantry, and four hundred to the cavalry. It is true that the legionary troops were then much reduced by the sword of the enemy, and by the tremendous hardships of their last campaigns. In this, however, he did perhaps no more than repay a debt. For it is an instance of military attachment, beyond all that Wallenstein or any commander, the most beloved amongst his troops, has ever experienced, that, on the breaking out of the Civil War, not only did the centurions of every legion severally maintain a horse soldier, but even the privates volunteered to serve without pay, and (what might seem impossible) without their daily rations. This was accomplished by subscriptions amongst themselves, the more opulent undertaking for the maintenance of the needy. Their disinterested love for Caesar appeared in another and more difficult illustration: it was a traditionary anecdote in Rome that the majority of those amongst Caesar's troops who had the misfortune to fall into the enemy's hands refused to accept their lives under the condition of serving against _him_. In connexion with this subject of his extraordinary munificence, there is one aspect of Caesar's life which has suffered much from the misrepresentations of historians, and that is--the vast pecuniary embarrassments under which he laboured, until the profits of war had turned the scale even more prodigiously in his favour. At one time of his life, when appointed to a foreign office, so numerous and so clamorous were his creditors that he could not have left Rome on his public duties had not Crassus come forward with assistance in money, or by guarantees, to the amount of nearly two hundred thousand pounds. And at another he was accustomed to amuse himself with computing how much money it would require to make him worth exactly nothing (_i.e._ simply to clear him of debts); this, by one account, amounted to upwards of two millions sterling. Now, the error of historians has been to represent these debts as the original ground of his ambition and his revolutionary projects, as though the desperate condition of his private affairs had suggested a civil war to his calculations as the best or only mode of redressing it. Such a policy would have resembled the last desperate resource of an unprincipled gambler, who, on seeing his final game at chess, and the accumulated stakes depending upon it, all on the brink of irretrievable sacrifice, dexterously upsets the chess-board, or extinguishes the lights. But Julius, the one sole patriot of Rome, could find no advantage to his plans in darkness or in confusion. Honestly supported, he would have crushed the oligarchies of Rome by crushing in its lairs that venal and hunger-bitten democracy which made oligarchy and its machineries resistless. Caesar's debts, far from being stimulants and exciting causes of his political ambition, stood in an inverse relation to the ambition; they were its results, and represented its natural costs, being contracted from first to last in the service of his political intrigues, for raising and maintaining a powerful body of partisans, both in Rome and elsewhere. Whosoever indeed will take the trouble to investigate the progress of Caesar's ambition, from such materials as even yet remain, may satisfy himself that the scheme of revolutionizing the Republic, and placing himself at its head, was no growth of accident or circumstances; above all, that it did not arise upon any so petty and indirect a suggestion as that of his debts; but that his debts were in their very first origin purely ministerial to his wise, indispensable, and patriotic ambition; and that his revolutionary plans were at all periods of his life a direct and foremost object, but in no case bottomed upon casual impulses. In this there was not only patriotism, but in fact the one sole mode of patriotism which could have prospered, or could have found a field of action. Chatter not, sublime reader, commonplaces of scoundrel moralists against ambition. In some cases ambition is a hopeful virtue; in others (as in the Rome of our resplendent Julius) ambition was the virtue by which any other could flourish. It had become evident to everybody that Rome, under its present constitution, must fall; and the sole question was--by whom? Even Pompey, not by nature of an aspiring turn, and prompted to his ambitious course undoubtedly by circumstances and, the friends who besieged him, was in the habit of saying, "Sylla potuit: ego non potero?" _Sylla found it possible: shall I find it not so?_ Possible to do what? To overthrow the political system of the Republic. This had silently collapsed into an order of things so vicious, growing also so hopelessly worse, that all honest patriots invoked a purifying revolution, even though bought at the heavy price of a tyranny, rather than face the chaos of murderous distractions to which the tide of feuds and frenzies was violently tending. Such a revolution at such a price was not less Pompey's object than Caesar's. In a case, therefore, where no benefit of choice was allowed to Rome as respected the thing, but only as respected the person, Caesar had the same right to enter the arena in the character of combatant as could belong to any one of his rivals. And that he _did_ enter that arena constructively, and by secret design, from his very earliest manhood, may be gathered from this--that he suffered no openings towards a revolution, provided they had any hope in them, to escape his participation. It is familiarly known that he was engaged pretty deeply in the conspiracy of Catiline, and that he incurred considerable risk on that occasion; but it is less known that he was a party to at least two other conspiracies. There was even a fourth, meditated by Crassus, which Caesar so far encouraged as to undertake a journey to Rome from a very distant quarter merely with a view to such chances as it might offer to him; but, as it did not, upon examination, seem to him a very promising scheme, he judged it best to look coldly upon it, or not to embark in it by any personal co-operation. Upon these and other facts we build our inference--that the scheme of a revolution was the one great purpose of Caesar from his first entrance upon public life. Nor does it appear that he cared much by whom it was undertaken, provided only there seemed to be any sufficient resources for carrying it through, and for sustaining the first collision with the regular forces of the existing oligarchies, taking or _not_ taking the shape of triumvirates. He relied, it seems, on his own personal superiority for raising him to the head of affairs eventually, let who would take the nominal lead at first. To the same result, it will be found, tended the vast stream of Caesar's liberalities. From the senator downwards to the lowest _faex Romuli_, he had a hired body of dependents, both in and out of Rome, equal in numbers to a nation. In the provinces, and in distant kingdoms, he pursued the same schemes. Everywhere he had a body of mercenary partisans; kings even are known to have taken his pay. And it is remarkable that even in his character of commander-in-chief, where the number of legions allowed to him for the accomplishment of his Gaulish mission raised him for a number of years above all fear of coercion or control, he persevered steadily in the same plan of providing for the distant day when he might need assistance, not _from_ the state, but _against_ the state. For, amongst the private anecdotes which came to light under the researches made into his history after his death, was this--that, soon after his first entrance upon his government in Gaul, he had raised, equipped, disciplined, and maintained, from his own private funds, a legion amounting, possibly, to six or seven thousand men, who were bound to no sacrament of military obedience to the state, nor owed fealty to any auspices except those of Caesar. This legion, from the fashion of their crested helmets, which resembled the heads of a small aspiring bird, received the popular name of the _Alauda_ (or Lark) legion. And very singular it was that Cato, or Marcellus, or some amongst those enemies of Caesar who watched his conduct during the period of his Gaulish command with the vigilance of rancorous malice, should not have come to the knowledge of this fact; in which case we may be sure that it would have been denounced to the Senate. Such, then, for its purpose and its uniform motive, was the sagacious munificence of Caesar. Apart from this motive, and considered in and for itself, and simply with a reference to the splendid forms which it often assumed, this munificence would furnish the materials for a volume. The public entertainments of Caesar, his spectacles and shows, his naumachiae, and the pomps of his unrivalled triumphs (the closing triumphs of the Republic), were severally the finest of their kind which had then been brought forward. Sea-fights were exhibited upon the grandest scale, according to every known variety of nautical equipment and mode of conflict, upon a vast lake formed artificially for that express purpose. Mimic land-fights were conducted, in which all the circumstances of real war were so faithfully rehearsed that even elephants "indorsed with towers," twenty on each side, took part in the combat. Dramas were represented in every known language (_per omnium linguarum histriones_). And hence (that is, from the conciliatory feeling thus expressed towards the various tribes of foreigners resident in Rome) some have derived an explanation of what is else a mysterious circumstance amongst the ceremonial observances at Caesar's funeral-- that all people of foreign nations then residing at Rome distinguished themselves by the conspicuous share which they took in the public mourning; and that, beyond all other foreigners, the Jews for night after night kept watch and ward about the Emperor's grave. Never before, according to traditions which lasted through several generations in Rome, had there been so vast a conflux of the human race congregated to any one centre, on any one attraction of business or of pleasure, as to Rome on occasion of these triumphal spectacles exhibited by Caesar. In our days, the greatest occasional gatherings of the human race are in India, especially at the great fair of the _Hurdwar_ on the Ganges in northern Hindustan: a confluence of some millions is sometimes seen at that spot, brought together under the mixed influences of devotion and commercial business, but very soon dispersed as rapidly as they had been convoked. Some such spectacle of nations crowding upon nations, and some such Babylonian confusion of dresses, complexions, languages, and jargons, was then witnessed at Rome. Accommodations within doors, and under roofs of houses, or roofs of temples, was altogether impossible. Myriads encamped along the streets, and along the high-roads, fields, or gardens. Myriads lay stretched on the ground, without even the slight protection of tents, in a vast circuit about the city. Multitudes of men, even senators, and others of the highest rank, were trampled to death in the crowds. And the whole family of man might seem at that time to be converged at the bidding of the dead Dictator. But these, or any other themes connected with the public life of Caesar, we notice only in those circumstances which have been overlooked, or partially represented, by historians. Let us now, in conclusion, bring forward, from the obscurity in which they have hitherto lurked, the anecdotes which describe the habits of his private life, his tastes, and personal peculiarities. In person, he was tall, fair, gracile, and of limbs distinguished for their elegant proportions. His eyes were black and piercing. These circumstances continued to be long remembered, and no doubt were constantly recalled to the eyes of all persons in the imperial palaces by pictures, busts, and statues; for we find the same description of his personal appearance three centuries afterwards in a work of the Emperor Julian's. He was a most accomplished horseman, and a master (_peritissimus_) in the use of arms. But, notwithstanding his skill and horsemanship, it seems that, when he accompanied his army on marches, he walked oftener than he rode; no doubt, with a view to the benefit of his example, and to express that sympathy with his soldiers which gained him their hearts so entirely. On other occasions, when travelling apart from his army, he seems more frequently to have ridden in a carriage than on horseback. His purpose, in this preference, must have been with a view to the transport of luggage. The carriage which he generally used was a _rheda_, a sort of gig, or rather curricle; for it was a _four_-wheeled carriage, and adapted (as we find from the imperial regulations for the public carriages, etc.) to the conveyance of about half a ton. The mere personal baggage which Caesar carried with him was probably considerable; for he was a man of elegant habits, and in all parts of his life sedulously attentive to elegance of personal appearance. The length of journeys which he accomplished within a given time appears even to us at this day, and might well therefore appear to his contemporaries, truly astonishing. A distance of one hundred miles was no extraordinary day's journey for him in a _rheda_, such as we have described it. So refined were his habits, and so constant his demand for the luxurious accommodations of polished life as it then existed in Rome, that he is said to have carried with him, as indispensable parts of his personal baggage, the little ivory lozenges, squares and circles or ovals, with other costly materials, wanted for the tessellated flooring of his tent. Habits such as these will easily account for his travelling in a carriage rather than on horseback. The courtesy and obliging disposition of Caesar were notorious; and both were illustrated in some anecdotes which survived for generations in Rome. Dining on one occasion, as an invited guest, at a table where the servants had inadvertently, for salad-oil, furnished some sort of coarse lamp-oil, Caesar would not allow the rest of the company to point out the mistake to their host, for fear of shocking him too much by exposing what might have been construed into inhospitality. At another time, whilst halting at a little _cabaret_, when one of his retinue was suddenly taken ill, Caesar resigned to his use the sole bed which the house afforded. Incidents as trifling as these express the urbanity of Caesar's nature; and hence one is the more surprised to find the alienation of the Senate charged, in no trifling degree, upon a gross and most culpable failure in point of courtesy. Caesar, it is alleged-- but might we presume to call upon antiquity for its authority?-- neglected to rise from his seat, on their approaching him with an address of congratulation. It is said, and we can believe it, that he gave deeper offence by this one defect in a matter of ceremonial observance than by all his substantial attacks upon their privileges. What we find it difficult to believe is not that result from that offence--this is no more than we should all anticipate--not _that_, but the possibility of the offence itself, from one so little arrogant as Caesar, and so entirely a man of the world. He was told of the disgust which he had given; and we are bound to believe his apology, in which he charged it upon sickness, that would not at the moment allow him to maintain a standing attitude. Certainly the whole tenor of his life was not courteous only, but kind, and to his enemies merciful in a degree which implied so much more magnanimity than men in general could understand that by many it was put down to the account of weakness. Weakness, however, there was none in Caius Caesar; and, that there might be none, it was fortunate that conspiracy should have cut him off in the full vigour of his faculties, in the very meridian of his glory, and on the brink of completing a series of gigantic achievements. Amongst these are numbered:--a digest of the entire body of laws, even then become unwieldy and oppressive; the establishment of vast and comprehensive public libraries, Greek as well as Latin; the chastisement of Dacia (that needed a cow-hiding for insolence as much as Affghanistan from us in 1840); the conquest of Parthia; and the cutting a ship canal through the Isthmus of Corinth. The reformation of the Calendar he had already accomplished. And of all his projects it may be said that they were equally patriotic in their purpose and colossal in their proportions. As an orator, Caesar's merit was so eminent that, according to the general belief, had he found time to cultivate this department of civil exertion, the received supremacy of Cicero would have been made questionable, or the honour would have been divided. Cicero himself was of that opinion, and on different occasions applied the epithet _splendidus_ to Caesar, as though in some exclusive sense, or with some peculiar emphasis, due to him. His taste was much simpler, chaster, and less inclined to the _florid_ and Asiatic, than that of Cicero. So far he would, in that condition of the Roman culture and feeling, have been less acceptable to the public; but, on the other hand, he would have compensated this disadvantage by much more of natural and Demosthenic fervour. In literature, the merits of Caesar are familiar to most readers. Under the modest title of _Commentaries_, he meant to offer the records of his Gallic and British campaigns, simply as notes, or memoranda, afterwards to be worked up by regular historians; but, as Cicero observes, their merit was such in the eyes of the discerning that all judicious writers shrank from the attempt to alter them. In another instance of his literary labours he showed a very just sense of true dignity. Rightly conceiving that everything patriotic was dignified, and that to illustrate or polish his native language was a service of real and paramount patriotism, he composed a work on the grammar and orthoepy of the Latin language. Cicero and himself were the only Romans of distinction in that age who applied themselves with true patriotism to the task of purifying and ennobling their mother tongue. Both were aware of a transcendent value in the Grecian literature as it then stood; but that splendour did not depress their hopes of raising their own to something of the same level. As respected the natural wealth of the two languages, it was the private opinion of Cicero that the Latin had the advantage; and, if Caesar did not accompany him to that length--which, perhaps, under some limitations he ought to have done--he yet felt that it was but the more necessary to draw forth any special or exceptional advantage which it really had. Was Caesar, upon the whole, the greatest of men? We restrict the question, of course, to the classes of men great in _action_: great by the extent of their influence over their social contemporaries; great by throwing open avenues to extended powers that previously had been closed; great by making obstacles once vast to become trivial, or prizes that once were trivial to be glorified by expansion. I (said Augustus Caesar) found Rome built of brick; but I left it built of marble. Well, my man, we reply, for a wondrously little chap, you did what in Westmoreland they call a good _darroch_ (day's work); and, if _navvies_ had been wanted in those days, you should have had our vote to a certainty. But Caius Julius, even under such a limitation of the comparison, did a thing as much transcending this as it was greater to project Rome across the Alps and the Pyrenees,--expanding the grand Republic into crowning provinces of 1. France (_Gallia_), 2. Belgium, 3. Holland (_Batavia_), 4. England (_Britannia_), 5. Savoy (_Allobroges_), 6. Switzerland (_Helvetia_), 7. Spain (_Hispania_),--than to decorate a street or to found an amphitheatre. Dr. Beattie once observed that, if that question as to the greatest man in action upon the rolls of History were left to be collected from the suffrages already expressed in books and scattered throughout the literature of all nations, the scale would be found to have turned prodigiously in Caesar's favour as against any single competitor; and there is no doubt whatsoever that even amongst his own countrymen, and his own contemporaries, the same verdict would have been returned, had it been collected upon the famous principle of Themistocles, that he should be reputed the first whom the greatest number of rival voices had pronounced to be the second. BIBLIOGRAPHY _Works_: Latin folio, Rome, 1469; Venice, 1471; Florence, 1514; London, 1585. De Bello Gallico, Esslingen (?), 1473. Translations by John Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester (John Rastell), of Julius Caesar's Commentaries-"newly translated into Englyshe ... as much as concerneth thys realme of England"--1530 folio; by Arthur Goldinge, The Eyght Bookes of C. Julius Caesar, London, 1563, 1565, 1578, 1590; by Chapman, London, 1604 folio; by Clem. Edmonds, London, 1609; the same, with Hirtius, 1655, 1670, 1695 folio with commendatory verses by Camden, Daniel, and Ben Johnson (_sic_). Works: Translated by W. Duncan, 1753, 1755; by M. Bladen, 8th ed., 1770; MacDevitt, Bohn's Library, 1848. De Bello Gallico, translated by R. Mongan, Dublin, 1850; by J.B. Owgan and C.W. Bateman, 1882. Caesar's Commentaries on the Gallic War, translated by T. Rice Holmes, London, 1908 (see also Holmes' Caesar's Conquest of Gaul, 1911). Caesar's Gallic War, translated by Rev. F.P. Long, Oxford, 1911; Books IV. and V. translated by C.H. Prichard, Cambridge, 1912. For Latin text of De Bello Gallico see Bell's Illustrated Classical Series; Dent's Temple Series of Classical Texts, 1902; Macmillan and Co., 1905; and Blackie's Latin Texts, 1905-7. * * * * * CONTENTS THE WAR IN GAUL THE CIVIL WAR THE COMMENTARIES OF CAIUS JULIUS CAESAR THE WAR IN GAUL BOOK I I.--All Gaul is divided into three parts, one of which the Belgae inhabit, the Aquitani another, those who in their own language are called Celts, in ours Gauls, the third. All these differ from each other in language, customs and laws. The river Garonne separates the Gauls from the Aquitani; the Marne and the Seine separate them from the Belgae. Of all these, the Belgae are the bravest, because they are farthest from the civilisation and refinement of [our] Province, and merchants least frequently resort to them and import those things which tend to effeminate the mind; and they are the nearest to the Germans, who dwell beyond the Rhine, with whom they are continually waging war; for which reason the Helvetii also surpass the rest of the Gauls in valour, as they contend with the Germans in almost daily battles, when they either repel them from their own territories, or themselves wage war on their frontiers. One part of these, which it has been said that the Gauls occupy, takes its beginning at the river Rhone: it is bounded by the river Garonne, the ocean, and the territories of the Belgae: it borders, too, on the side of the Sequani and the Helvetii, upon the river Rhine, and stretches towards the north. The Belgae rise from the extreme frontier of Gaul, extend to the lower part of the river Rhine; and look towards the north and the rising sun. Aquitania extends from the river Garonne to the Pyrenaean mountains and to that part of the ocean which is near Spain: it looks between the setting of the sun and the north star. II.--Among the Helvetii, Orgetorix was by far the most distinguished and wealthy. He, when Marcus Messala and Marcus Piso were consuls, incited by lust of sovereignty, formed a conspiracy among the nobility, and persuaded the people to go forth from their territories with all their possessions, [saying] that it would be very easy, since they excelled all in valour, to acquire the supremacy of the whole of Gaul. To this he the more easily persuaded them, because the Helvetii are confined on every side by the nature of their situation; on one side by the Rhine, a very broad and deep river, which separates the Helvetian territory from the Germans; on a second side by the Jura, a very high mountain which is [situated] between the Sequani and the Helvetii; on a third by the Lake of Geneva, and by the river Rhone, which separates our Province from the Helvetii. From these circumstances it resulted that they could range less widely, and could less easily make war upon their neighbours; for which reason men fond of war [as they were] were affected with great regret. They thought, that considering the extent of their population, and their renown for warfare and bravery, they had but narrow limits, although they extended in length 240, and in breadth 180 [Roman] miles. III.--Induced by these considerations, and influenced by the authority of Orgetorix, they determined to provide such things as were necessary for their expedition--to buy up as great a number as possible of beasts of burden and waggons--to make their sowings as large as possible, so that on their march plenty of corn might be in store--and to establish peace and friendship with the neighbouring states. They reckoned that a term of two years would be sufficient for them to execute their designs; they fix by decree their departure for the third year. Orgetorix is chosen to complete these arrangements. He took upon himself the office of ambassador to the states: on this journey he persuades Casticus, the son of Catamantaledes (one of the Sequani, whose father had possessed the sovereignty among the people for many years, and had been styled "_friend_" by the senate of the Roman people), to seize upon the sovereignty in his own state, which his father had held before him, and he likewise persuades Dumnorix, an Aeduan, the brother of Divitiacus, who at that time possessed the chief authority in the state, and was exceedingly beloved by the people, to attempt the same, and gives him his daughter in marriage. He proves to them that to accomplish their attempts was a thing very easy to be done, because he himself would obtain the government of his own state; that there was no doubt that the Helvetii were the most powerful of the whole of Gaul; he assures them that he will, with his own forces and his own army, acquire the sovereignty for them. Incited by this speech, they give a pledge and oath to one another, and hope that, when they have seized the sovereignty, they will, by means of the three most powerful and valiant nations, be enabled to obtain possession of the whole of Gaul. IV.--When this scheme was disclosed to the Helvetii by informers, they, according to their custom, compelled Orgetorix to plead his cause in chains; it was the law that the penalty of being burned by fire should await him if condemned. On the day appointed for the pleading of his cause, Orgetorix drew together from all quarters to the court all his vassals to the number of ten thousand persons; and led together to the same place, and all his dependants and debtor-bondsmen, of whom he had a great number; by means of these he rescued himself from [the necessity of] pleading his cause. While the state, incensed at this act, was endeavouring to assert its right by arms, and the magistrates were mustering a large body of men from the country, Orgetorix died; and there is not wanting a suspicion, as the Helvetii think, of his having committed suicide. V.--After his death, the Helvetii nevertheless attempt to do that which they had resolved on, namely, to go forth from their territories. When they thought that they were at length prepared for this undertaking, they set fire to all their towns, in number about twelve--to their villages about four hundred--and to the private dwellings that remained; they burn up all the corn, except what they intend to carry with them; that after destroying the hope of a return home, they might be the more ready for undergoing all dangers. They order every one to carry forth from home for himself provisions for three months, ready ground. They persuade the Rauraci, and the Tulingi, and the Latobrigi, their neighbours, to adopt the same plan, and after burning down their towns and villages, to set out with them: and they admit to their party and unite to themselves as confederates the Boii, who had dwelt on the other side of the Rhine, and had crossed over into the Norican territory, and assaulted Noreia. VI.--There were in all two routes by which they could go forth from their country--one through the Sequani, narrow and difficult, between Mount Jura and the river Rhone (by which scarcely one waggon at a time could be led; there was, moreover, a very high mountain overhanging, so that a very few might easily intercept them); the other, through our Province, much easier and freer from obstacles, because the Rhone flows between the boundaries of the Helvetii and those of the Allobroges, who had lately been subdued, and is in some places crossed by a ford. The furthest town of the Allobroges, and the nearest to the territories of the Helvetii, is Geneva. From this town a bridge extends to the Helvetii. They thought that they should either persuade the Allobroges, because they did not seem as yet well-affected towards the Roman people, or compel them by force to allow them to pass through their territories. Having provided everything for the expedition, they appoint a day on which they should all meet on the bank of the Rhone. This day was the fifth before the kalends of April [_i.e._ the 28th of March], in the consulship of Lucius Piso and Aulus Gabinius [B.C. 58]. VII.--When it was reported to Caesar that they were attempting to make their route through our Province, he hastens to set out from the city, and, by as great marches as he can, proceeds to Further Gaul, and arrives at Geneva. He orders the whole Province [to furnish] as great a number of soldiers as possible, as there was in all only one legion in Further Gaul: he orders the bridge at Geneva to be broken down. When the Helvetii are apprised of his arrival, they send to him, as ambassadors, the most illustrious men of their state (in which embassy Numeius and Verudoctius held the chief place), to say "that it was their intention to march through the Province without doing any harm, because they had" [according to their own representations] "no other route:--that they requested they might be allowed to do so with his consent." Caesar, inasmuch as he kept in remembrance that Lucius Cassius, the consul, had been slain, and his army routed and made to pass under the yoke by the Helvetii, did not think that [their request] ought to be granted; nor was he of opinion that men of hostile disposition, if an opportunity of marching through the Province were given them, would abstain from outrage and mischief. Yet, in order that a period might intervene, until the soldiers whom he had ordered [to be furnished] should assemble, he replied to the ambassadors, that he would take time to deliberate; if they wanted anything, they might return on the day before the ides of April [on April 12th]. VIII.--Meanwhile, with the legion which he had with him and the soldiers who had assembled from the Province, he carries along for nineteen [Roman, not quite eighteen English] miles a wall, to the height of sixteen feet, and a trench, from the lake of Geneva, which flows into the river Rhone, to Mount Jura, which separates the territories of the Sequani from those of the Helvetii. When that work was finished, he distributes garrisons, and closely fortifies redoubts, in order that he may the more easily intercept them, if they should attempt to cross over against his will. When the day which he had appointed with the ambassadors came, and they returned to him, he says that he cannot, consistently with the custom and precedent of the Roman people, grant any one a passage through the Province; and he gives them to understand that, if they should attempt to use violence, he would oppose them. The Helvetii, disappointed in this hope, tried if they could force a passage (some by means of a bridge of boats and numerous rafts constructed for the purpose; others, by the fords of the Rhone, where the depth of the river was least, sometimes by day, but more frequently by night), but being kept at bay by the strength of our works, and by the concourse of the soldiers, and by the missiles, they desisted from this attempt. IX.--There was left one way, [namely] through the Sequani, by which, on account of its narrowness, they could not pass without the consent of the Sequani. As they could not of themselves prevail on them, they send ambassadors to Dumnorix the Aeduan, that through his intercession they might obtain their request from the Sequani. Dumnorix, by his popularity and liberality, had great influence among the Sequani, and was friendly to the Helvetii, because out of that state he had married the daughter of Orgetorix; and, incited by lust of sovereignty, was anxious for a revolution, and wished to have as many states as possible attached to him by his kindness towards them. He, therefore, undertakes the affair, and prevails upon the Sequani to allow the Helvetii to march through their territories, and arranges that they should give hostages to each other--the Sequani not to obstruct the Helvetii in their march--the Helvetii, to pass without mischief and outrage. X.--It-is again told Caesar that the Helvetii intend to march through the country of the Sequani and the Aedui into the territories of the Santones, which are not far distant from those boundaries of the Tolosates, which [viz. Tolosa, Toulouse] is a state in the Province. If this took place, he saw that it would be attended with great danger to the Province to have warlike men, enemies of the Roman people, bordering upon an open and very fertile tract of country. For these reasons he appointed Titus Labienus, his lieutenant, to the command of the fortification which he had made. He himself proceeds to Italy by forced marches, and there levies two legions, and leads out from winter-quarters three which were wintering around Aquileia, and with these five legions marches rapidly by the nearest route across the Alps into Further Gaul. Here the Centrones and the Graioceli and the Caturiges, having taken possession of the higher parts, attempt to obstruct the army in their march. After having routed these in several battles, he arrives in the territories of the Vocontii in the Further Province on the seventh day from Ocelum, which is the most remote town of the Hither Province; thence he leads his army into the country of the Allobroges, and from the Allobroges to the Segusiani. These people are the first beyond the Province on the opposite side of the Rhone. XI.--The Helvetii had by this time led their forces over through the narrow defile and the territories of the Sequani, and had arrived at the territories of the Aedui, and were ravaging their lands. The Aedui, as they could not defend themselves and their possessions against them, send ambassadors to Caesar to ask assistance, [pleading] that they had at all times so well deserved of the Roman people, that their fields ought not to have been laid waste--their children carried off into slavery--their towns stormed, almost within sight of our army. At the same time the Ambarri, the friends and kinsmen of the Aedui, apprise Caesar that it was not easy for them, now that their fields had been devastated, to ward off the violence of the enemy from their towns: the Allobroges likewise, who had villages and possessions on the other side of the Rhone, betake themselves in flight to Caesar and assure him that they had nothing remaining, except the soil of their land. Caesar, induced by these circumstances, decides that he ought not to wait until the Helvetii, after destroying all the property of his allies, should arrive among the Santones. XII.--There is a river [called] the Saone, which flows through the territories of the Aedui and Sequani into the Rhone with such incredible slowness, that it cannot be determined by the eye in which direction it flows. This the Helvetii were crossing by rafts and boats joined together. When Caesar was informed by spies that the Helvetii had already conveyed three parts of their forces across that river, but that the fourth part was left behind on this side of the Saone, he set out from the camp with three legions during the third watch, and came up with that division which had not yet crossed the river. Attacking them, encumbered with baggage, and not expecting him, he cut to pieces a great part of them; the rest betook themselves to flight, and concealed themselves in the nearest woods. That canton [which was cut down] was called the Tigurine; for the whole Helvetian state is divided into four cantons. This single canton having left their country, within the recollection of our fathers, had slain Lucius Cassius the consul, and had made his army pass under the yoke [B.C. 107]. Thus, whether by chance, or by the design of the immortal gods, that part of the Helvetian state which had brought a signal calamity upon the Roman people was the first to pay the penalty. In this Caesar avenged not only the public, but also his own personal wrongs, because the Tigurini had slain Lucius Piso the lieutenant [of Cassius], the grandfather of Lucius Calpurnius Piso, his [Caesar's] father-in-law, in the same battle as Cassius himself. XIII.--This battle ended, that he might be able to come up with the remaining forces of the Helvetii, he procures a bridge to be made across the Saone, and thus leads his army over. The Helvetii, confused by his sudden arrival, when they found that he had effected in one day what they themselves had with the utmost difficulty accomplished in twenty, namely, the crossing of the river, send ambassadors to him; at the head of which embassy was Divico, who had been commander of the Helvetii in the war against Cassius. He thus treats with Caesar:--that, "if the Roman people would make peace with the Helvetii they would go to that part and there remain, where Caesar might appoint and desire them to be; but if he should persist in persecuting them with war, that he ought to remember both the ancient disgrace of the Roman people and the characteristic valour of the Helvetii. As to his having attacked one canton by surprise, [at a time] when those who had crossed the river could not bring assistance to their friends, that he ought not on that account to ascribe very much to his own valour, or despise them; that they had so learned from their sires and ancestors, as to rely more on valour than on artifice or stratagem. Wherefore let him not bring it to pass that the place, where they were standing, should acquire a name, from the disaster of the Roman people and the destruction of their army or transmit the remembrance [of such an event to posterity]." XIV.--To these words Caesar thus replied:--that "on that very account he felt less hesitation, because he kept in remembrance those circumstances which the Helvetian ambassadors had mentioned, and that he felt the more indignant at them, in proportion as they had happened undeservedly to the Roman people: for if they had been conscious of having done any wrong it would not have been difficult to be on their guard, but for that very reason had they been deceived, because neither were they aware that any offence had been given by them, on account of which they should be afraid, nor did they think that they ought to be afraid without cause. But even if he were willing to forget their former outrage, could he also lay aside the remembrance of the late wrongs, in that they had against his will attempted a route through the Province by force, in that they had molested the Aedui, the Ambarri, and the Allobroges? That as to their so insolently boasting of their victory, and as to their being astonished that they had so long committed their outrages with impunity, [both these things] tended to the same point; for the immortal gods are wont to allow those persons whom they wish to punish for their guilt sometimes a greater prosperity and longer impunity, in order that they may suffer the more severely from a reverse of circumstances. Although these things are so, yet, if hostages were to be given him by them in order that he may be assured they will do what they promise, and provided they will give satisfaction to the Aedui for the outrages which they had committed against them and their allies, and likewise to the Allobroges, he [Caesar] will make peace with them." Divico replied, that "the Helvetii had been so trained by their ancestors that they were accustomed to receive, not to give, hostages; of that fact the Roman people were witness." Having given this reply, he withdrew. XV.--On the following day they move their camp from that place; Caesar does the same, and sends forward all his cavalry, to the number of four thousand (which he had drawn together from all parts of the Province and from the Aedui and their allies), to observe towards what parts the enemy are directing their march. These, having too eagerly pursued the enemy's rear, come to a battle with the cavalry of the Helvetii in a disadvantageous place, and a few of our men fall. The Helvetii, elated with this battle because they had with five hundred horse repulsed so large a body of horse, began to face us more boldly, sometimes too from their rear to provoke our men by an attack. Caesar [however] restrained his men from battle, deeming it sufficient for the present to prevent the enemy from rapine, forage, and depredation. They marched for about fifteen days in such a manner that there was not more than five or six miles between the enemy's rear and our van. XVI.--Meanwhile, Caesar kept daily importuning the Aedui for the corn which they had promised in the name of their state; for, in consequence of the coldness (Gaul being, as before said, situated towards the north), not only was the corn in the fields not ripe, but there was not in store a sufficiently large quantity even of fodder: besides he was unable to use the corn which he had conveyed in ships up the river Saone, because the Helvetii, from whom he was unwilling to retire, had diverted their march from the Saone. The Aedui kept deferring from day to day, and saying that it was being "collected--brought in--on the road." When he saw that he was put off too long, and that the day was close at hand on which he ought to serve out the corn to his soldiers,-- having called together their chiefs, of whom he had a great number in his camp, among them Divitiacus, and Liscus who was invested with the chief magistracy (whom the Aedui style the Vergobretus, and who is elected annually, and has power of life and death over his countrymen), he severely reprimands them, because he is not assisted by them on so urgent an occasion, when the enemy were so close at hand, and when [corn] could neither be bought nor taken from the fields, particularly as, in a great measure urged by their prayers, he had undertaken the war; much more bitterly, therefore, does he complain of his being forsaken. XVII.--Then at length Liscus, moved by Caesar's speech, discloses what he had hitherto kept secret:--that "there are some whose influence with the people is very great, who, though private men, have more power than the magistrates themselves: that these by seditious and violent language are deterring the populace from contributing the corn which they ought to supply; [by telling them] that, if they cannot any longer retain the supremacy of Gaul, it were better to submit to the government of Gauls than of Romans, nor ought they to doubt that, if the Romans should overpower the Helvetii, they would wrest their freedom from the Aedui together with the remainder of Gaul. By these very men [said he] are our plans, and whatever is done in the camp, disclosed to the enemy; that they could not be restrained by _him_: nay more, he was well aware that, though compelled by necessity, he had disclosed the matter to Caesar, at how great a risk he had done it; and for that reason, he had been silent as long as he could." XVIII.--Caesar perceived that, by this speech of Liscus, Dumnorix, the brother of Divitiacus, was indicated; but, as he was unwilling that these matters should be discussed while so many were present, he speedily dismisses the council, but detains Liscus: he inquires from him when alone, about those things which he had said in the meeting. He [Liscus] speaks more unreservedly and boldly. He [Caesar] makes inquiries on the same points privately of others, and discovers that it is all true; that "Dumnorix is the person, a man of the highest daring, in great favour with the people on account of his liberality, a man eager for a revolution: that for a great many years he has been in the habit of contracting for the customs and all the other taxes of the Aedui at a small cost, because when _he_ bids, no one dares to bid against him. By these means he has both increased his own private property and amassed great means for giving largesses; that he maintains constantly at his own expense and keeps about his own person a great number of cavalry, and that not only at home, but even among the neighbouring states, he has great influence, and for the sake of strengthening this influence has given his mother in marriage among the Bituriges to a man the most noble and most influential there; that he has himself taken a wife from among the Helvetii, and has given his sister by the mother's side and his female relations in marriage into other states; that he favours and wishes well to the Helvetii on account of this connection; and that he hates Caesar and the Romans, on his own account, because by their arrival his power was weakened, and his brother, Divitiacus, restored to his former position of influence and dignity: that, if anything should happen to the Romans, he entertains the highest hope of gaining the sovereignty by means of the Helvetii, but that under the government of the Roman people he despairs not only of royalty but even of that influence which he already has." Caesar discovered too, on inquiring into the unsuccessful cavalry engagement which had taken place a few days before, that the commencement of that flight had been made by Dumnorix and his cavalry (for Dumnorix was in command of the cavalry which the Aedui had sent for aid to Caesar); that by their flight the rest of the cavalry was dismayed. XIX.--After learning these circumstances, since to these suspicions the most unequivocal facts were added, viz., that he had led the Helvetii through the territories of the Sequani; that he had provided that hostages should be mutually given; that he had done all these things, not only without any orders of his [Caesar's] and of his own state's, but even without their [the Aedui] knowing anything of it themselves; that he [Dumnorix] was reprimanded by the [chief] magistrate of the Aedui; he [Caesar] considered that there was sufficient reason why he should either punish him himself, or order the state to do so. One thing [however] stood in the way of all this--that he had learned by experience his brother Divitiacus's very high regard for the Roman people, his great affection towards him, his distinguished faithfulness, justice, and moderation; for he was afraid lest by the punishment of this man, he should hurt the feelings of Divitiacus. Therefore, before he attempted anything, he orders Divitiacus to be summoned to him, and when the ordinary interpreters had been withdrawn, converses with him through Caius Valerius Procillus, chief of the province of Gaul, an intimate friend of his, in whom he reposed the highest confidence in everything; at the same time he reminds him of what was said about Dumnorix in the council of the Gauls, when he himself was present, and shows what each had said of him privately in his [Caesar's] own presence; he begs and exhorts him, that, without offence to his feelings, he may either himself pass judgment on him [Dumnorix] after trying the case, or else order the [Aeduan] state to do so. XX.-Divitiacus, embracing Caesar, begins to implore him, with many tears, that "he would not pass any very severe sentence upon his brother; saying, that he knows that those [charges] are true, and that nobody suffered more pain on that account than he himself did; for when he himself could effect a very great deal by his influence at home and in the rest of Gaul, and he [Dumnorix] very little on account of his youth, the latter had become powerful through his means, which power and strength he used not only to the lessening of his [Divitiacus] popularity, but almost to his ruin; that he, however, was influenced both by fraternal affection and by public opinion. But if anything very severe from Caesar should befall him [Dumnorix], no one would think that it had been done without his consent, since he himself held such a place in Caesar's friendship; from which circumstance it would arise that the affections of the whole of Gaul would be estranged from him." As he was with tears begging these things of Caesar in many words, Caesar takes his right hand, and, comforting him, begs him to make an end of entreating, and assures him that his regard for him is so great that he forgives both the injuries of the republic and his private wrongs, at his desire and prayers. He summons Dumnorix to him; he brings in his brother; he points out what he censures in him; he lays before him what he of himself perceives, and what the state complains of; he warns him for the future to avoid all grounds of suspicion; he says that he pardons the past, for the sake of his brother, Divitiacus. He sets spies over Dumnorix that he may be able to know what he does, and with whom he communicates. XXI.--Being on the same day informed by his scouts that the enemy had encamped at the foot of a mountain eight miles from his own camp, he sent persons to ascertain what the nature of the mountain was, and of what kind the ascent on every side. Word was brought back that it was easy. During the third watch he orders Titus Labienus, his lieutenant with praetorian powers, to ascend to the highest ridge of the mountain with two legions, and with those as guides who had examined the road; he explains what his plan is. He himself during the fourth watch, hastens to them by the same route by which the enemy had gone, and sends on all the cavalry before him. Publius Considius, who was reputed to be very experienced in military affairs, and had been in the army of Lucius Sulla, and afterwards in that of Marcus Crassus, is sent forward with the scouts. XXII.--At day-break, when the summit of the mountain was in the possession of Titus Labienus, and he himself was not further off than a mile and half from the enemy's camp, nor, as he afterwards ascertained from the captives, had either his arrival or that of Labienus been discovered; Considius, with his horse at full gallop, comes up to him-- says that the mountain which he [Caesar] wished should be seized by Labienus, is in possession of the enemy; that he has discovered this by the Gallic arms and ensigns. Caesar leads off his forces to the next hill: [and] draws them up in battle-order. Labienus, as he had been ordered by Caesar not to come to an engagement unless [Caesar's] own forces were seen near the enemy's camp, that the attack upon the enemy might be made on every side at the same time, was, after having taken possession of the mountain, waiting for our men, and refraining from battle. When, at length, the day was far advanced, Caesar learned through spies that the mountain was in possession of his own men, and that the Helvetii had moved their camp, and that Considius, struck with fear, had reported to him, as seen, that which he had not seen. On that day he follows the enemy at his usual distance, and pitches his camp three miles from theirs. XXIII.--The next day (as there remained in all only two days' space [to the time] when he must serve out the corn to his army, and as he was not more than eighteen miles from Bibracte, by far the largest and best-stored town of the Aedui) he thought that he ought to provide for a supply of corn; and diverted his march from the Helvetii, and advanced rapidly to Bibracte. This circumstance is reported to the enemy by some deserters from Lucius Aemilius, a captain of the Gallic horse. The Helvetii, either because they thought that the Romans, struck with terror, were retreating from them, the more so, as the day before, though they had seized on the higher grounds, they had not joined battle; or because they flattered themselves that they might be cut off from the provisions, altering their plan and changing their route, began to pursue and to annoy our men in the rear. XXIV.--Caesar, when he observes this, draws off his forces to the next hill, and sent the cavalry to sustain the attack of the enemy. He himself, meanwhile, drew up on the middle of the hill a triple line of his four veteran legions in such a manner that he placed above him on the very summit the two legions which he had lately levied in Hither Gaul, and all the auxiliaries; and he ordered that the whole mountain should be covered with men, and that meanwhile the baggage should be brought together into one place, and the position be protected by those who were posted in the upper line. The Helvetii, having followed with all their waggons, collected their baggage into one place: they themselves, after having repulsed our cavalry and formed a phalanx, advanced up to our front line in very close order. XXV.--Caesar, having removed out of sight first his own horse, then those of all, that he might make the danger of all equal, and do away with the hope of flight, after encouraging his men, joined battle. His soldiers, hurling their javelins from the higher ground, easily broke the enemy's phalanx. That being dispersed, they made a charge on them with drawn swords. It was a great hindrance to the Gauls in fighting, that, when several of their bucklers had been by one stroke of the (Roman) javelins pierced through and pinned fast together, as the point of the iron had bent itself, they could neither pluck it out, nor, with their left hand entangled, fight with sufficient ease; so that many, after having long tossed their arm about, chose rather to cast away the buckler from their hand, and to fight with their person unprotected. At length, worn out with wounds, they began to give way, and as there was in the neighbourhood a mountain about a mile off, to betake themselves thither. When the mountain had been gained, and our men were advancing up, the Boii and Tulingi, who with about 15,000 men closed the enemy's line of march and served as a guard to their rear, having assailed our men on the exposed flank as they advanced [prepared] to surround them; upon seeing which, the Helvetii, who had betaken themselves to the mountain, began to press on again and renew the battle. The Romans having faced about, advanced to the attack in two divisions; the first and second line to withstand those who had been defeated and driven off the field; the third to receive those who were just arriving. XXVI.--Thus was the contest long and vigorously carried on with doubtful success. When they could no longer withstand the attacks of our men, the one division, as they had begun to do, betook themselves to the mountain; the other repaired to their baggage and waggons. For during the whole of this battle, although the fight lasted from the seventh hour [_i.e._ 12 (noon)--1 P.M.] to eventide, no one could see an enemy with his back turned. The fight was carried on also at the baggage till late in the night, for they had set waggons in the way as a rampart, and from the higher ground kept throwing weapons upon our men, as they came on, and some from between the waggons and the wheels kept darting their lances and javelins from beneath, and wounding our men. After the fight had lasted some time, our men gained possession of their baggage and camp. There the daughter and one of the sons of Orgetorix were taken. After that battle about 130,000 men [of the enemy] remained alive, who marched incessantly during the whole of that night; and after a march discontinued for no part of the night, arrived in the territories of the Lingones on the fourth day, whilst our men, having stopped for three days, both on account of the wounds of the soldiers and the burial of the slain, had not been able to follow them. Caesar sent letters and messengers to the Lingones [with orders] that they should not assist them with corn or with anything else; for that if they should assist them, he would regard them in the same light as the Helvetii. After the three days' interval he began to follow them himself with all his forces. XXVII.--The Helvetii, compelled by the want of everything, sent ambassadors to him about a surrender. When these had met him in the way and had thrown themselves at his feet, and speaking in suppliant tone had with tears sued for peace, and [when] he had ordered them to await his arrival, in the place where they then were, they obeyed his commands. When Caesar arrived at that place, he demanded hostages, their arms, and the slaves who had deserted to them. Whilst those things are being sought for and got together, after a night's interval, about 6000 men of that canton which is called the Verbigene, whether terrified by fear, lest, after delivering up their arms, they should suffer punishment, or else induced by the hope of safety, because they supposed that, amid so vast a multitude of those who had surrendered themselves, _their_ flight might either be concealed or entirely overlooked, having at night-fall departed out of the camp of the Helvetii, hastened to the Rhine and the territories of the Germans. XXVIII.--But when Caesar discovered this, he commanded those through whose territories they had gone, to seek them, out and to bring them back again, if they meant to be acquitted before him; and considered them, when brought back, in the light of enemies; he admitted all the rest to a surrender, upon their delivering up the hostages, arms, and deserters. He ordered the Helvetii, the Tulingi, and the Latobrigi to return to their territories from which they had come, and as there was at home nothing whereby they might support their hunger, all the productions of the earth having been destroyed, he commanded the Allobroges to let them have a plentiful supply of corn; and ordered them to rebuild the towns and villages which they had burnt. This he did, chiefly on this account, because he was unwilling that the country, from which the Helvetii had departed, should be untenanted, lest the Germans, who dwell on the other side of the Rhine, should, on account of the excellence of the lands, cross over from their own territories into those of the Helvetii, and become borderers upon the province of Gaul and the Allobroges. He granted the petition of the Aedui, that they might settle the Boii, in their own (_i.e._ in the Aeduan) territories, as these were known to be of distinguished valour to whom they gave lands, and whom they afterwards admitted to the same state of rights and freedom as themselves. XXIX.--In the camp of the Helvetii, lists were found, drawn up in Greek characters, and were brought to Caesar, in which an estimate had been drawn up, name by name, of the number which had gone forth from their country of those who were able to bear arms; and likewise the boys, the old men, and the women, separately. Of all which items the total was:- Of the _Helvetii_ [lit. of the heads of the Helvetii] 263,000 Of the _Tulingi_ 36,000 Of the _Latobrigi_ 14,000 Of the _Rauraci_ 23,000 Of the _Boii_ 32,000 ------- The sum of all amounted to 368,000 Out of these, such as could bear arms [amounted] to about 92,000. When the _census_ of those who returned home was taken, as Caesar had commanded, the number was found to be 110,000. XXX.--When the war with the Helvetii was concluded, ambassadors from almost all parts of Gaul, the chiefs of states, assembled to congratulate Caesar, [saying] that they were well aware, that, although he had taken vengeance on the Helvetii in war, for the old wrongs done by them to the Roman people, yet that circumstance had happened no less to the benefit of the land of Gaul than of the Roman people, because the Helvetii, while their affairs were most flourishing, had quitted their country with the design of making war upon the whole of Gaul, and seizing the government of it, and selecting, out of a great abundance, that spot for an abode which they should judge to be the most convenient and most productive of all Gaul, and hold the rest of the states as tributaries. They requested that they might be allowed to proclaim an assembly of the whole of Gaul for a particular day, and to do that with Caesar's permission, [stating] that they had some things which, with the general consent, they wished to ask of him. This request having been granted, they appointed a day for the assembly, and ordained by an oath with each other, that no one should disclose [their deliberations] except those to whom this [office] should be assigned by the general assembly. XXXI.--When that assembly was dismissed, the same chiefs of states, who had before been to Caesar, returned, and asked that they might be allowed to treat with him privately (in secret) concerning the safety of themselves and of all. That request having been obtained, they all threw themselves in tears at Caesar's feet, [saying] that they no less begged and earnestly desired that what they might say should not be disclosed than that they might obtain those things which they wished for; inasmuch as they saw that, if a disclosure were made, they should be put to the greatest tortures. For these Divitiacus the Aeduan spoke and told him:-- "That there were two parties in the whole of Gaul: that the Aedui stood at the head of one of these, the Arverni of the other. After these had been violently struggling with one another for the superiority for many years, it came to pass that the Germans were called in for hire by the Arverni and the Sequani. That about 15,000 of them [_i.e._ of the Germans] had at first crossed the Rhine: but after that these wild and savage men had become enamoured of the lands and the refinement and the abundance of the Gauls, more were brought over, that there were now as many as 120,000 of them in Gaul: that with these the Aedui and their dependants had repeatedly struggled in arms, that they had been routed and had sustained a great calamity--had lost all their nobility, all their senate, all their cavalry. And that broken by such engagements and calamities, although they had formerly been very powerful in Gaul, both from their own valour and from the Roman people's hospitality and friendship, they were now compelled to give the chief nobles of their state as hostages to the Sequani, and to bind their state by an oath, that they would neither demand hostages in return, nor supplicate aid from the Roman people, nor refuse to be for ever under their sway and empire. That he was the only one out of all the state of the Aedui who could not be prevailed upon to take the oath or to give his children as hostages. On that account he had fled from his state and had gone to the senate at Rome to beseech aid, as he alone was bound neither by oath nor hostages. But a worse thing had befallen the victorious Sequani than the vanquished Aedui, for Ariovistus, the king of the Germans, had settled in their territories, and had seized upon a third of their land, which was the best in the whole of Gaul, and was now ordering them to depart from another third part, because a few months previously 24,000 men of the Harudes had come to him, for whom room and settlements must be provided. The consequence would be, that in a few years they would all be driven from the territories of Gaul, and all the Germans would cross the Rhine; for neither must the land of Gaul be compared with the land of the Germans, nor must the habit of living of the latter be put on a level with that of the former. Moreover, [as for] Ariovistus, no sooner did he defeat the forces of the Gauls in a battle, which took place at Magetobria, than [he began] to lord it haughtily and cruelly, to demand as hostages the children of all the principal nobles, and wreak on them every kind of cruelty, if everything was not done at his nod or pleasure; that he was a savage, passionate, and reckless man, and that his commands could no longer be borne. Unless there was some aid in Caesar and the Roman people, the Gauls must all do the same thing that the Helvetii had done, [viz.] emigrate from their country, and seek another dwelling place, other settlements remote from the Germans, and try whatever fortune may fall to their lot. If these things were to be disclosed to Ariovistus, [Divitiacus adds] that he doubts not that he would inflict the most severe punishment on all the hostages who are in his possession, [and says] that Caesar could, either by his own influence and by that of his army, or by his late victory, or by name of the Roman people, intimidate him, so as to prevent a greater number of Germans being brought over the Rhine, and could protect all Gaul from the outrages of Ariovistus." XXXII.--When this speech had been delivered by Divitiacus, all who were present began with loud lamentation to entreat assistance of Caesar. Caesar noticed that the Sequani were the only people of all who did none of those things which the others did, but, with their heads bowed down, gazed on the earth in sadness. Wondering what was the reason of this conduct, he inquired of themselves. No reply did the Sequani make, but silently continued in the same sadness. When he had repeatedly inquired of them and could not elicit any answer at all, the same Divitiacus the Aeduan answered, that--"the lot of the Sequani was more wretched and grievous than that of the rest, on this account, because they alone durst not even in secret complain or supplicate aid; and shuddered at the cruelty of Ariovistus [even when] absent, just as if he were present; for, to the rest, despite of everything, there was an opportunity of flight given; but all tortures must be endured by the Sequani, who had admitted Ariovistus within their territories, and whose towns were all in his power." XXXIII.--Caesar, on being informed of these things, cheered the minds of the Gauls with his words, and promised that this affair should be an object of his concern, [saying] that he had great hopes that Ariovistus, induced both by his kindness and his power, would put an end to his oppression. After delivering this speech, he dismissed the assembly; and, besides those statements, many circumstances induced him to think that this affair ought to be considered and taken up by him; especially as he saw that the Aedui, styled [as they had been] repeatedly by the senate "brethren" and "kinsmen," were held in the thraldom and dominion of the Germans, and understood that their hostages were with Ariovistus and the Sequani, which in so mighty an empire [as that] of the Roman people he considered very disgraceful to himself and the republic. That, moreover, the Germans should by degrees become accustomed to cross the Rhine, and that a great body of them should come into Gaul, he saw [would be] dangerous to the Roman people, and judged that wild and savage men would not be likely to restrain themselves, after they had possessed themselves of all Gaul, from going forth into the province and thence marching into Italy (as the Cimbri and Teutones had done before them), particularly as the Rhone [was the sole barrier that] separated the Sequani from our province. Against which events he thought he ought to provide as speedily as possible. Moreover, Ariovistus, for his part, had assumed to himself such pride and arrogance that he was felt to be quite insufferable. XXXIV.--He therefore determined to send ambassadors to Ariovistus to demand of him to name some intermediate spot for a conference between the two, [saying] that he wished to treat with him on state-business and matters of the highest importance to both of them. To this embassy Ariovistus replied, that if he himself had had need of anything from Caesar, he would have gone to him; and that if Caesar wanted anything from him he ought to come to him. That, besides, neither dare he go without an army into those parts of Gaul which Caesar had possession of, nor could he, without great expense and trouble, draw his army together to one place; that to him, moreover, it appeared strange what business either Caesar or the Roman people at all had in his own Gaul, which he had conquered in war. XXXV.--When these answers were reported to Caesar, he sends ambassadors to him a second time with this message "Since, after having been treated with so much kindness by himself and the Roman people (as he had in his consulship [B.C. 59] been styled 'king and friend' by the senate), he makes this recompense to [Caesar] himself and the Roman people, [viz.] that when invited to a conference he demurs, and does not think that it concerns him to advise and inform himself about an object of mutual interest, these are the things which he requires of him; first, that he do not any more bring over any body of men across the Rhine into Gaul; in the next place, that he restore the hostages which he has from the Aedui, and grant the Sequani permission to restore to them with his consent those hostages which they have, and that he neither provoke the Aedui by outrage nor make war upon them or their allies; if he would accordingly do this," [Caesar says] that "he himself and the Roman people will entertain a perpetual feeling of favour and friendship towards him; but that if he [Caesar] does not obtain [his desires], that he (forasmuch as in the consulship of Marcus Messala and Marcus Piso [B.C. 61] the senate had decreed that, whoever should have the administration of the province of Gaul should, as far as he could do so consistently with the interests of the republic, protect the Aedui and the other friends of the Roman people) will not overlook the wrongs of the Aedui." XXXVI.--To this Ariovistus replied, that "the right of war was, that they who had conquered should govern those whom they had conquered, in what manner they pleased; that in that way the Roman people were wont to govern the nations which they had conquered, not according to the dictation of any other, but according to their own discretion. If he for his part did not dictate to the Roman people as to the manner in which they were to exercise their right, he ought not to be obstructed by the Roman people in his right; that the Aedui, inasmuch as they had tried the fortune of war and had engaged in arms and been conquered, had become tributaries to him; that Caesar was doing a great injustice, in that by his arrival he was making his revenues less valuable to him; that he should not restore their hostages to the Aedui, but should not make war wrongfully either upon them or their allies, if they abided by that which had been agreed on, and paid their tribute annually: if they did _not_ continue to do that, the Roman people's name of 'brothers' would avail them nought. As to Caesar's threatening him that be would not overlook the wrongs of the Aedui, [he said] that no one had ever entered into a contest with _him_ [Ariovistus] without utter ruin to himself. That Caesar might enter the lists when he chose; he would feel what the invincible Germans, well-trained [as they were] beyond all others to arms, who for fourteen years had not been beneath a roof, could achieve by their valour." XXXVII.--At the same time that this message was delivered to Caesar, ambassadors came from the Aedui and the Treviri; from the Aedui to complain that the Harudes, who had lately been brought over into Gaul, were ravaging their territories; that they had not been able to purchase peace from Ariovistus, even by giving hostages: and from the Treviri, [to state] that a hundred cantons of the Suevi had encamped on the banks of the Rhine, and were attempting to cross it; that the brothers, Nasuas and Cimberius, headed them. Being greatly alarmed at these things, Caesar thought that he ought to use all despatch, lest, if this new band of Suevi should unite with the old troops of Ariovistus, he [Ariovistus] might be less easily withstood. Having, therefore, as quickly as he could, provided a supply of corn, he hastened to Ariovistus by forced marches. XXXVIII.--When he had proceeded three days' journey, word was brought to him that Ariovistus was hastening with all his forces to seize on Vesontio, which is the largest town of the Sequani, and had advanced three days' journey from his territories. Caesar thought that he ought to take the greatest precautions lest this should happen, for there was in that town a most ample supply of everything which was serviceable for war; and so fortified was it by the nature of the ground as to afford a great facility for protracting the war, inasmuch as the river Doubs almost surrounds the whole town, as though it were traced round it with a pair of compasses. A mountain of great height shuts in the remaining space, which is not more than 600 feet, where the river leaves a gap, in such a manner that the roots of that mountain extend to the river's bank on either side. A wall thrown around it makes a citadel of this [mountain], and connects it with the town. Hither Caesar hastens by forced marches by night and day, and, after having seized the town, stations a garrison there. XXXIX.--Whilst he is tarrying a few days at Vesontio, on account of corn and provisions; from the inquiries of our men and the reports of the Gauls and traders (who asserted that the Germans were men of huge stature, of incredible valour and practice in arms, that ofttimes they, on encountering them, could not bear even their countenance, and the fierceness of their eyes)--so great a panic on a sudden seized the whole army, as to discompose the minds and spirits of all in no slight degree. This first arose from the tribunes of the soldiers, the prefects and the rest, who, having followed Caesar from the city [Rome] from motives of friendship, had no great experience in military affairs. And alleging, some of them one reason, some another, which they said made it necessary for them to depart, they requested that by his consent they might be allowed to withdraw; some, influenced by shame, stayed behind in order that they might avoid the suspicion of cowardice. These could neither compose their countenance, nor even sometimes check their tears: but hidden in their tents, either bewailed their fate, or deplored with their comrades the general danger. Wills were sealed universally throughout the whole camp. By the expressions and cowardice of these men, even those who possessed great experience in the camp, both soldiers and centurions, and those [the decurions] who were in command of the cavalry, were gradually disconcerted. Such of them as wished to be considered less alarmed, said that they did not dread the enemy, but feared the narrowness of the roads and the vastness of the forests which lay between them and Ariovistus, or else that the supplies could not be brought up readily enough. Some even declared to Caesar that when he gave orders for the camp to be moved and the troops to advance, the soldiers would not be obedient to the command, nor advance in consequence of their fear. XL.--When Caesar observed these things, having called a council, and summoned to it the centurions of all the companies, he severely reprimanded them, "particularly for supposing that it belonged to them to inquire or conjecture, either in what direction they were marching, or with what object. That Ariovistus, during his [Caesar's] consulship, had most anxiously sought after the friendship of the Roman people; why should any one judge that he would so rashly depart from his duty? He for his part was persuaded that, when his demands were known and the fairness of the terms considered, he would reject neither his nor the Roman people's favour. But even if, driven on by rage and madness, he should make war upon them, what after all were they afraid of?--or why should they despair either of their own valour or of his zeal? Of that enemy a trial had been made within our fathers' recollection, when, on the defeat of the Cimbri and Teutones by Caius Marius, the army was regarded as having deserved no less praise than their commander himself. It had been made lately, too, in Italy; during the rebellion of the slaves, whom, however, the experience and training which they had received from us, assisted in some respect. From which a judgment might be formed of the advantages which resolution carries with it,--inasmuch as those whom for some time they had groundlessly dreaded when unarmed, they had afterwards vanquished, when well armed and flushed with success. In short, that these were the same men whom the Helvetii, in frequent encounters, not only in their own territories, but also in theirs [the German], have generally vanquished, and yet cannot have been a match for our army. If the unsuccessful battle and flight of the Gauls disquieted any, these, if they made inquiries, might discover that, when the Gauls had been tired out by the long duration of the war, Ariovistus, after he had many months kept himself in his camp and in the marshes, and had given no opportunity for an engagement, fell suddenly upon them, by this time despairing of a battle and scattered in all directions, and was victorious more through stratagem and cunning than valour. But though there had been room for such stratagem against savage and unskilled men, not even [Ariovistus] himself expected that thereby our armies could be entrapped. That those who ascribed their fear to a pretence about the [deficiency of] supplies and the narrowness of the roads, acted presumptuously, as they seemed either to distrust their general's discharge of his duty, or to dictate to him. That these things were his concern; that the Sequani, the Leuci, and the Lingones were to furnish the corn; and that it was already ripe in the fields; that as to the road they would soon be able to judge for themselves. As to its being reported that the soldiers would not be obedient to command, or advance, he was not at all disturbed at that; for he knew that in the case of all those whose army had not been obedient to command, either upon some mismanagement of an affair, fortune had deserted them, or, that upon some crime being discovered, covetousness had been clearly proved [against them]. His integrity had been seen throughout his whole life, his good fortune in the war with the Helvetii. That he would therefore instantly set about what he had intended to put off till a more distant day, and would break up his camp the next night, in the fourth watch, that he might ascertain, as soon as possible, whether a sense of honour and duty, or whether fear had more influence with them. But that, if no one else should follow, yet he would go with only the tenth legion, of which he had no misgivings, and it should be his praetorian cohort."--This legion Caesar had both greatly favoured, and in it, on account of its valour, placed the greatest confidence. XLI.-Upon the delivery of this speech, the minds of all were changed in a surprising, manner, and the highest ardour and eagerness for prosecuting the war were engendered; and the tenth legion was the first to return thanks to him, through their military tribunes, for his having expressed this most favourable opinion of them; and assured him that they were quite ready to prosecute the war. Then, the other legions endeavoured, through their military tribunes and the centurions of the principal companies, to excuse themselves to Caesar, [saying] that they had never either doubted or feared, or supposed that the determination of the conduct of the war was theirs and not their general's. Having accepted their excuse, and having had the road carefully reconnoitred by Divitiacus, because in him of all others he had the greatest faith, [he found] that by a circuitous route of more than fifty miles he might lead his army through open parts; he then set out in the fourth watch, as he had said [he would]. On the seventh day, as he did not discontinue his march, he was informed by scouts that the forces of Ariovistus were only four and twenty miles distant from ours. XLII.--Upon being apprised of Caesar's arrival, Ariovistus sends ambassadors to him, [saying] that what he had before requested as to a conference, might now, as far as his permission went, take place, since he [Caesar] had approached nearer, and he considered that he might now do it without danger. Caesar did not reject the proposal and began to think that he was now returning to a rational state of mind, as he spontaneously proffered that which he had previously refused to him when requesting it; and was in great hopes that, in consideration of his own and the Roman people's great favours towards him, the issue would be that he would desist from his obstinacy upon his demands being made known. The fifth day after that was appointed as the day of conference. Meanwhile, as ambassadors were being often sent to and fro between them, Ariovistus demanded that Caesar should not bring any foot-soldier with him to the conference, [saying] that "he was afraid of being ensnared by him through treachery; that both should come accompanied by cavalry; that he would not come on any other condition." Caesar, as he neither wished that the conference should, by an excuse thrown in the way, be set aside, nor durst trust his life to the cavalry of the Gauls, decided that it would be most expedient to take away from the Gallic cavalry all their horses, and thereon to mount the legionary soldiers of the tenth legion, in which he placed the greatest confidence; in order that he might have a body-guard as trustworthy as possible, should there be any need for action. And when this was done, one of the soldiers of the tenth legion said, not without a touch of humour, "that Caesar did more for them than he had promised; he had promised to have the tenth legion in place of his praetorian cohort; but he now converted them into horse." XLIII.--There was a large plain, and in it a mound of earth of considerable size. This spot was at nearly an equal distance from both camps. Thither, as had been appointed, they came for the conference. Caesar stationed the legion, which he had brought [with him] on horseback, 200 paces from this mound. The cavalry of Ariovistus also took their stand at an equal distance. Ariovistus then demanded that they should confer on horseback, and that, besides themselves, they should bring with them ten men each to the conference. When they were come to the place, Caesar, in the opening of his speech, detailed his own and the senate's favours towards him [Ariovistus], "in that he had been styled king, in that [he had been styled] friend, by the senate-- in that very considerable presents had been sent him; which circumstance he informed him had both fallen to the lot of few, and had usually been bestowed in consideration of important personal services; that he, although he had neither an introduction, nor a just ground for the request, had obtained these honours through the kindness and munificence of himself [Caesar] and the senate. He informed him too, how old and how just were the grounds of connexion that existed between themselves [the Romans] and the Aedui, what decrees of the senate had been passed in their favour, and how frequent and how honourable; how from time immemorial the Aedui had held the supremacy of the whole of Gaul; even [said Caesar] before they had sought our friendship; that it was the custom of the Roman people to desire not only that its allies and friends should lose none of their property, but be advanced in influence, dignity, and honour: who then could endure that what they had brought with them to the friendship of the Roman people, should be torn from them?" He then made the same demands which he had commissioned the ambassadors to make, that [Ariovistus] should not make war either upon the Aedui or their allies, that he should restore the hostages; that, if he could not send back to their country any part of the Germans, he should at all events suffer none of them any more to cross the Rhine. XLIV.--Ariovistus replied briefly to the demands of Caesar; but expatiated largely on his own virtues, "that he had crossed the Rhine not of his own accord, but on being invited and sent for by the Gauls; that he had not left home and kindred without great expectations and great rewards; that he had settlements in Gaul, granted by the Gauls themselves; that the hostages had been given by their own good-will; that he took by right of war the tribute which conquerors are accustomed to impose on the conquered; that he had not made war upon the Gauls, but the Gauls upon him; that all the states of Gaul came to attack him, and had encamped against him; that all their forces had been routed and beaten by him in a single battle; that if they chose to make a second trial, he was ready to encounter them again; but if they chose to enjoy peace, it was unfair to refuse the tribute, which of their own free-will they had paid up to that time. That the friendship of the Roman people ought to prove to him an ornament and a safeguard, not a detriment; and that he sought it with that expectation. But if through the Roman people the tribute was to be discontinued, and those who surrendered to be seduced from him, he would renounce the friendship of the Roman people no less heartily than he had sought it. As to his leading over a host of Germans into Gaul, that he was doing this with a view of securing himself, not of assaulting Gaul: that there was evidence of this, in that he did not come without being invited, and in that he did not make war, but merely warded it off. That he had come into Gaul before the Roman people. That never before this time did a Roman army go beyond the frontiers of the province of Gaul. What [said he] does [Caesar] desire? --why come into his [Ariovistus's] domains?--that this was his province of Gaul, just as that is ours. As it ought not to be pardoned in him, if he were to make an attack upon our territories; so, likewise, that we were unjust to obstruct him in his prerogative. As for Caesar's saying that the Aedui had been styled 'brethren' by the senate, he was not so uncivilized nor so ignorant of affairs, as not to know that the Aedui in the very last war with the Allobroges had neither rendered assistance to the Romans, nor received any from the Roman people in the struggles which the Aedui had been maintaining with him and with the Sequani. He must feel suspicious that Caesar, though feigning friendship as the reason for his keeping an army in Gaul; was keeping it with the view of crushing him. And that unless he depart, and withdraw his army from these parts, he shall regard him not as a friend, but as a foe; and that, even if he should put him to death, he should do what would please many of the nobles and leading men of the Roman people; he had assurance of that from themselves through their messengers, and could purchase the favour and the friendship of them all by his [Caesar's] death. But if he would depart and resign to him the free possession of Gaul, he would recompense him with a great reward, and would bring to a close whatever wars he wished to be carried on, without any trouble or risk to him." XLV.--Many things were stated by Caesar to the effect [to show]: "why he could not waive the business, and that neither his nor the Roman people's practice would suffer him to abandon most meritorious allies, nor did he deem that Gaul belonged to Ariovistus rather than to the Roman people; that the Arverni and the Ruteni had been subdued in war by Quintus Fabius Maximus, and that the Roman people had pardoned them and had not reduced them into a province or imposed a tribute upon them. And if the most ancient period was to be regarded--then was the sovereignty of the Roman people in Gaul most just: if the decree of the senate was to be observed, then ought Gaul to be free, which they [the Romans] had conquered in war, and had permitted to enjoy its own laws." XLVI.--While these things are being transacted in the conference, it was announced to Caesar that the cavalry of Ariovistus were approaching nearer the mound, and were riding up to our men, and casting stones and weapons at them. Caesar made an end of his speech and betook himself to his men; and commanded them that they should by no means return a weapon upon the enemy. For though he saw that an engagement with the cavalry would be without any danger to his chosen legion, yet he did not think proper to engage, lest, after the enemy were routed, it might be said that they had been ensnared by him under the sanction of a conference. When it was spread abroad among the common soldiery with what haughtiness Ariovistus had behaved at the conference, and how he had ordered the Romans to quit Gaul, and how his cavalry had made an attack upon our men, and how this had broken off the conference, a much greater alacrity and eagerness for battle was infused into our army. XLVII.--Two days after, Ariovistus sends ambassadors to Caesar, to state "that he wished to treat with him about those things which had been begun to be treated of between them, but had not been concluded"; [and to beg] that "he would either again appoint a day for a conference; or, if he were not willing to do that, that he would send one of his [officers] as an ambassador to him." There did not appear to Caesar any good reason for holding a conference; and the more so as the day before the Germans could not be restrained from casting weapons at our men. He thought he should not without great danger send to him as ambassador one of his [Roman] officers, and should expose him to savage men. It seemed [therefore] most proper to send to him C. Valerius Procillus, the son of C. Valerius Caburus, a young man of the highest courage and accomplishments (whose father had been presented with the freedom of the city by C. Valerius Flaccus), both on account of his fidelity and on account of his knowledge of the Gallic language, which Ariovistus, by long practice, now spoke fluently; and because in his case the Germans would have no motive for committing violence; and [as his colleague] M. Mettius, who had shared the hospitality of Ariovistus. He commissioned them to learn what Ariovistus had to say, and to report to him. But when Ariovistus saw them before him in his camp, he cried out in the presence of his army, "Why were they come to him? was it for the purpose of acting as spies?" He stopped them when attempting to speak, and cast them into chains. XLVIII.--The same day he moved his camp forward and pitched under a hill six miles from Caesar's camp. The day following he led his forces past Caesar's camp, and encamped two miles beyond him; with this design--that he might cut off Caesar from, the corn and provisions which might be conveyed to him from the Sequani and the Aedui. For five successive days from that day, Caesar drew out his forces before the camp, and put them in battle order, that, if Ariovistus should be willing to engage in battle, an opportunity might not be wanting to him. Ariovistus all this time kept his army in camp: but engaged daily in cavalry skirmishes. The method of battle in which the Germans had practised themselves was this. There were 6000 horse, and as many very active and courageous foot, one of whom each of the horse selected out of the whole army for his own protection. By these [foot] they were constantly accompanied in their engagements; to these the horse retired; these on any emergency rushed forward; if any one, upon receiving a very severe wound, had fallen from his horse, they stood around him: if it was necessary to advance farther: than usual, or to retreat more rapidly, so great, from practice, was their swiftness, that, supported by the manes of the horses, they could keep pace with their speed. XLIX.--Perceiving that Ariovistus kept himself in camp, Caesar, that he might not any longer be cut off from provisions, chose a convenient position for a camp beyond that place in which the Germans had encamped, at about 600 paces from them, and having drawn up his army in three lines, marched to that place. He ordered the first and second lines to be under arms; the third to fortify the camp. This place was distant from the enemy about 600 paces, as has been stated. Thither Ariovistus sent light troops, about 16,000 men in number, with all his cavalry; which forces were to intimidate our men, and hinder them in their fortification. Caesar nevertheless, as he had before arranged, ordered two lines to drive off the enemy: the third to execute the work. The camp being fortified, he left there two legions and a portion of the auxiliaries; and led back the other four legions into the larger camp. L.--The next day, according to his custom, Caesar led out his forces from both camps, and having advanced a little from the larger one, drew up his line of battle, and gave the enemy an opportunity of fighting. When he found that they did not even then come out [from their entrenchments], he led back his army into camp about noon. Then at last Ariovistus sent part of his forces to attack the lesser camp. The battle was vigorously maintained on both sides till the evening. At sunset, after many wounds had been inflicted and received, Ariovistus led back his forces into camp. When Caesar inquired of his prisoners, wherefore Ariovistus did not come to an engagement, he discovered this to be the reason--that among the Germans it was the custom for their matrons to pronounce from lots and divination whether it were expedient that the battle should be engaged in or not; that they had said, "that it was not the will of heaven that the Germans should conquer, if they engaged in battle before the new moon." LI.--The day following, Caesar left what seemed sufficient as a guard for both camps; [and then] drew up all the auxiliaries in sight of the enemy, before the lesser camp, because he was not very powerful in the number of legionary soldiers, considering the number of the enemy; that [thereby] he might make use of his auxiliaries for appearance. He himself, having drawn up his army in three lines, advanced to the camp of the enemy. Then at last of necessity the Germans drew their forces out of camp, and disposed them canton by canton, at equal distances, the Harudes, Marcomanni, Tribocci, Vangiones, Nemetes, Sedusii, Suevi; and surrounded their whole army with their chariots and waggons, that no hope might be left in flight. On these they placed their women, who, with dishevelled hair and in tears, entreated the soldiers, as they went forward to battle, not to deliver them into slavery to the Romans. LII.--Caesar appointed over each legion a lieutenant and a questor, that every one might have them as witnesses of his valour. He himself began the battle at the head of the right wing, because he had observed that part of the enemy to be the least strong. Accordingly our men, upon the signal being given, vigorously made an attack upon the enemy, and the enemy so suddenly and rapidly rushed forward, that there was no time for casting the javelins at them. Throwing aside [therefore] their javelins, they fought with swords hand to hand. But the Germans, according to their custom, rapidly forming a phalanx, sustained the attack of our swords. There were found very many of our soldiers who leaped upon the phalanx, and with their hands tore away the shields, and wounded the enemy from above. Although the army of the enemy was routed on the left wing and put to flight, they [still] pressed heavily on our men from the right wing, by the great number of their troops. On observing which, P. Crassus, a young man, who commanded the cavalry--as he was more disengaged than those who were employed in the fight--sent the third line as a relief to our men who were in distress. LIII.--Thereupon the engagement was renewed, and all the enemy turned their backs, nor did they cease to flee until they arrived at the river Rhine, about fifty miles from that place. There some few, either relying on their strength, endeavoured to swim over, or, finding boats, procured their safety. Among the latter was Ariovistus, who meeting with a small vessel tied to the bank, escaped in it: our horse pursued and slew all the rest of them. Ariovistus had two wives, one a Suevan by nation, whom he had brought with him from home; the other a Norican, the sister of king Vocion, whom he had married in Gaul, she having been sent [thither for that purpose] by her brother. Both perished in that flight. Of their two daughters, one was slain, the other captured. C. Valerius Procillus, as he was being dragged by his guards in the flight, bound with a triple chain, fell into the hands of Caesar himself, as he was pursuing the enemy with his cavalry. This circumstance indeed afforded Caesar no less pleasure than the victory itself; because he saw a man of the first rank in the province of Gaul, his intimate acquaintance and friend, rescued from the hand of the enemy, and restored to him, and that fortune had not diminished aught of the joy and exultation [of that day] by his destruction. He [Procillus] said that in his own presence the lots had been thrice consulted respecting him, whether he should immediately be put to death by fire, or be reserved for another time: that by the favour of the lots he was uninjured. M. Mettius, also, was found and brought back to him [Caesar]. LIV.--This battle having been reported beyond the Rhine, the Suevi, who had come to the banks of that river, began to return home, when the Ubii, who dwelt nearest to the Rhine, pursuing them, while much alarmed, slew a great number of them. Caesar having concluded two very important wars in one campaign, conducted his army into winter quarters among the Sequani, a little earlier than the season of the year required. He appointed Labienus over the winter quarters, and set out in person for Hither Gaul to hold the assizes. BOOK II I.--While Caesar was in winter quarters in Hither Gaul, as we have shown above, frequent reports were brought to him, and he was also informed by letters from Labienus, that all the Belgae, who we have said are a third part of Gaul, were entering into a confederacy against the Roman people, and giving hostages to one another; that the reasons of the confederacy were these--first, because they feared that, after all [Celtic] Gaul was subdued, our army would be led against them; secondly, because they were instigated by several of the Gauls; some of whom as [on the one hand] they had been unwilling that the Germans should remain any longer in Gaul, so [on the other] they were dissatisfied that the army of the Roman people should pass the winter in it, and settle there; and others of them, from a natural instability and fickleness of disposition, were anxious for a revolution; [the Belgae were instigated] by several, also, because the government in Gaul was generally seized upon by the more powerful persons and by those who had the means of hiring troops, and they could less easily effect this object under our dominion. II.--Alarmed by these tidings and letters, Caesar levied two new legions in Hither Gaul, and, at the beginning of summer, sent Q. Pedius, his lieutenant, to conduct them further into Gaul. He himself, as soon as there began to be plenty of forage, came to the army. He gives a commission to the Senones and the other Gauls who were neighbours of the Belgae, to learn what is going on amongst them [_i.e._ the Belgae], and inform him of these matters. These all uniformly reported that troops were being raised, and that an army was being collected in one place. Then, indeed, he thought that he ought not to hesitate about proceeding towards them, and having provided supplies, moves his camp, and in about fifteen days arrives at the territories of the Belgae. III.--As he arrived there unexpectedly and sooner than any one anticipated, the Remi, who are the nearest of the Belgae to [Celtic] Gaul, sent to him Iccius and Antebrogius, [two of] the principal persons of the state, as their ambassadors: to tell him that they surrendered themselves and all their possessions to the protection and disposal of the Roman people: and that they had neither combined with the rest of the Belgae, nor entered into any confederacy against the Roman people: and were prepared to give hostages, to obey his commands, to receive him into their towns, and to aid him with corn and other things; that all the rest of the Belgae were in arms; and that the Germans, who dwell on this side the Rhine, had joined themselves to them; and that so great was the infatuation of them all that they could not restrain even the Suessiones, their own brethren and kinsmen, who enjoy the same rights, and the same laws, and who have one government and one magistracy [in common] with themselves, from uniting with them. IV.--When Caesar inquired of them what states were in arms, how powerful they were, and what they could do in war, he received the following information: that the greater part of the Belgae were sprung from the Germans, and that having crossed the Rhine at an early period, they had settled there, on account of the fertility of the country, and had driven out the Gauls who inhabited those regions; and that they were the only people who, in the memory of our fathers, when all Gaul was overrun, had prevented the Teutones and the Cimbri from entering their territories; the effect of which was that, from the recollection of those events, they assumed to themselves great authority and haughtiness in military matters. The Remi said that they had known accurately everything respecting their number, because, being united to them by neighbourhood and by alliances, they had learnt what number each state had in the general council of the Belgae promised for that war. That the Bellovaci were the most powerful amongst them in valour, influence, and number of men; that these could muster 100,000 armed men, [and had] promised 60,000 picked men out of that number, and demanded for themselves the command of the whole war. That the Suessiones were their nearest neighbours and possessed a very extensive and fertile country; that among them, even in our own memory, Divitiacus, the most powerful man of all Gaul, had been king; who had held the government of a great part of these regions, as well as of Britain; that their king at present was Galba; that the direction of the whole war was conferred by the consent of all upon him, on account of his integrity and prudence; that they had twelve towns; that they had promised 50,000 armed men; and that the Nervii, who are reckoned the most warlike among them, and are situated at a very great distance, [had promised] as many; the Atrebates, 15,000; the Ambiani, 10,000; the Morini, 25,000; the Menapu, 9000; the Caleti, 10,000; the Velocasses and the Veromandui as many; the Aduatuci, 19,000; that the Condrusi, the Eburones, the Caeraesi, the Paemani, who are called by the common name of Germans, [had promised], they thought, to the number of 40,000. V.--Caesar, having encouraged the Remi, and addressed them courteously, ordered the whole senate to assemble before him, and the children of their chief men to be brought to him as hostages; all which commands they punctually performed by the day [appointed]. He, addressing himself to Divitiacus the Aeduan, with great earnestness, points out how much it concerns the republic and their common security, that the forces of the enemy should be divided, so that it might not be necessary to engage with so large a number at one time. [He asserts] that this might be effected if the Aedui would lead their forces into the territories of the Bellovaci, and begin to lay waste their country. With these instructions he dismissed him from his presence. After he perceived that all the forces of the Belgae, which had been collected in one place, were approaching towards him, and learnt from the scouts whom he had sent out, and [also] from the Remi, that they were not then far distant, he hastened to lead his army over the Aisne, which is on the borders of the Remi, and there pitched his camp. This position fortified one side of his camp by the banks of the river, rendered the country which lay in his rear secure from the enemy, and furthermore ensured that provisions might without danger be brought to him by the Remi and the rest of the states. Over that river was a bridge: there he places a guard; and on the other side of the river he leaves Q. Titurus Sabinus, his lieutenant, with six cohorts. He orders him to fortify a camp with a rampart twelve feet in height, and a trench eighteen feet in breadth. VI.--There was a town of the Remi, by name Bibrax, eight miles distant from this camp. This the Belgae on their march began to attack with great vigour. [The assault] was with difficulty sustained for that day. The Gauls' mode of besieging is the same as that of the Belgae: when after having drawn a large number of men around the whole of the fortifications, stones have begun to be cast against the wall on all sides, and the wall has been stript of its defenders, [then], forming a testudo, they advance to the gates and undermine the wall: which was easily effected on this occasion; for while so large a number were casting stones and darts, no one was able to maintain his position upon the wall. When night had put an end to the assault, Iccius, who was then in command of the town, one of the Remi, a man of the highest rank and influence amongst his people, and one of those who had come to Caesar as ambassador [to sue] for a peace, sends messengers to him, [to report] "That, unless assistance were sent to him, he could not hold out any longer." VII.--Thither immediately after midnight, Caesar, using as guides the same persons who had come to him as messengers from Iccius, sends some Numidian and Cretan archers, and some Balearian slingers as a relief to the townspeople, by whose arrival both a desire to resist together with the hope of [making good their] defence was infused into the Remi, and, for the same reason, the hope of gaining the town abandoned the enemy. Therefore, after staying a short time before the town, and laying waste the country of the Remi, when all the villages and buildings which they could approach had been burnt, they hastened with all their forces to the camp of Caesar, and encamped within less than two miles [of it]; and their camp, as was indicated by the smoke and fires, extended more than eight miles in breadth. VIII.--Caesar at first determined to decline a battle, as well on account of the great number of the enemy as their distinguished reputation for valour: daily, however, in cavalry actions, he strove to ascertain by frequent trials what the enemy could effect by their prowess and what our men would dare. When he perceived that our men were not inferior, as the place before the camp was naturally convenient and suitable for marshalling an army (since the hill where the camp was pitched, rising gradually from the plain, extended forward in breadth as far as the space which the marshalled army could occupy, and had steep declines of its side in either direction, and gently sloping in front gradually sank to the plain), on either side of that hill he drew a cross trench of about four hundred paces, and at the extremities of that trench built forts, and placed there his military engines, lest, after he had marshalled his army, the enemy, since they were so powerful in point of number, should be able to surround his men in the flank, while fighting. After doing this, and leaving in the camp the two legions which he had last raised, that, if there should be any occasion, they might be brought as a reserve, he formed the other six legions in order of battle before the camp. The enemy, likewise, had drawn up their forces which they had brought out of the camp. IX.--There was a marsh of no great extent between our army and that of the enemy. The latter were waiting to see if our men would pass this; our men, also, were ready in arms to attack them while disordered, if the first attempt to pass should be made by them. In the meantime battle was commenced between the two armies by a cavalry action. When neither army began to pass the marsh, Caesar, upon the skirmishes of the horse [proving] favourable to our men, led back his forces into the camp. The enemy immediately hastened from that place to the river Aisne, which it has been stated was behind our camp. Finding a ford there, they endeavoured to lead a part of their forces over it; with the design, that, if they could, they might carry by storm the fort which Q. Titurius, Caesar's lieutenant, commanded, and might cut off the bridge; but, if they could not do that, they should lay waste the lands of the Remi, which were of great use to us in carrying on the war, and might hinder our men from foraging. X.--Caesar, being apprised of this by Titurius, leads all his cavalry and light-armed Numidians, slingers and archers, over the bridge, and hastens towards them. There was a severe struggle in that place. Our men, attacking in the river the disordered enemy, slew a great part of them. By the immense number of their missiles they drove back the rest, who in a most courageous manner were attempting to pass over their bodies, and surrounded with their cavalry, and cut to pieces those who had first crossed the river. The enemy, when they perceived that their hopes had deceived them both with regard to their taking the town by storm and also their passing the river, and did not see our men advance to a more disadvantageous place for the purpose of fighting, and when provisions began to fail them, having called a council, determined that it was best for each to return to his country, and resolved to assemble from all quarters to defend those into whose territories the Romans should first march an army; that they might contend in their own rather than in a foreign country, and might enjoy the stores of provisions which they possessed at home. Together with other causes, this consideration also led them to that resolution, viz.: that they had learnt that Divitiacus and the Aedui were approaching the territories of the Bellovaci. And it was impossible to persuade the latter to stay any longer, or to deter them from conveying succour to their own people. XI.--That matter being determined on, marching out of their camp at the second watch, with great noise and confusion, in no fixed order, nor under any command, since each sought for himself the foremost place in the journey, and hastened to reach home, they made their departure appear very like a flight. Caesar, immediately learning this through his scouts, [but] fearing an ambuscade, because he had not yet discovered for what reason they were departing, kept his army and cavalry within the camp. At daybreak, the intelligence having been confirmed by the scouts, he sent forward his cavalry to harass their rear; and gave the command of it to two of his lieutenants, Q. Pedius, and L. Aurunculeius Cotta. He ordered T. Labienus, another of his lieutenants, to follow them closely with three legions. These, attacking their rear, and pursuing them for many miles, slew a great number of them as they were fleeing; while those in the rear with whom they had come up, halted, and bravely sustained the attack of our soldiers; the van, because they appeared to be removed from danger, and were not restrained by any necessity or command, as soon as the noise was heard, broke their ranks, and, to a man, rested their safety in flight. Thus without any risk [to themselves] our men killed as great a number of them as the length of the day allowed; and at sunset desisted from the pursuit, and betook themselves into the camp, as they had been commanded. XII.--On the day following, before the enemy could recover from their terror and flight, Caesar led his army into the territories of the Suessiones, which are next to the Remi, and having accomplished a long march, hastens to the town named Noviodunum. Having attempted to take it by storm on his march, because he heard that it was destitute of [sufficient] defenders, he was not able to carry it by assault, on account of the breadth of the ditch and the height of the wall, though few were defending it. Therefore, having fortified the camp, he began to bring up the vineae, and to provide whatever things were necessary for the storm. In the meantime, the whole body of the Suessiones, after their flight, came the next night into the town. The vineae having been quickly brought up against the town, a mound thrown up, and towers built, the Gauls, amazed by the greatness of the works, such as they had neither seen nor heard of before, and struck, also, by the despatch of the Romans, send ambassadors to Caesar respecting a surrender, and succeed in consequence of the Remi requesting that they [the Suessiones] might be spared. XIII.--Caesar, having received as hostages the first men of the state, and even the two sons of king Galba himself; and all the arms in the town having been delivered up, admitted the Suessiones to a surrender, and led his army against the Bellovaci. Who, when they had conveyed themselves and all their possessions into the town called Bratuspantium, and Caesar with his army was about five miles distant from that town, all the old men, going out of the town, began to stretch out their hands to Caesar, and to intimate by their voice that they would throw themselves on his protection and power, nor would contend in arms against the Roman people. In like manner, when he had come up to the town, and there pitched his camp, the boys and the women from the wall, with outstretched hands, after their custom, begged peace from the Romans. XIV.--For these Divitiacus pleads (for after the departure of the Belgae, having dismissed the troops of the Aedui, he had returned to Caesar). "The Bellovaci had at all times been in the alliance and friendship of the Aeduan state; that they had revolted from the Aedui and made war upon the Roman people, being urged thereto by their nobles, who said that the Aedui, reduced to slavery by Caesar, were suffering every indignity and insult. That they who had been the leaders of that plot, because they perceived how great a calamity they had brought upon the state, had fled into Britain. That not only the Bellovaci, but also the Aedui, entreated him to use his [accustomed] clemency and lenity towards them [the Bellovaci]: which if he did, he would increase the influence of the Aedui among all the Belgae, by whose succour and resources they had been accustomed to support themselves whenever any wars occurred." XV.--Caesar said that on account of his respect for Divitiacus and the Aeduans, he would receive them into his protection, and would spare them; but, because the state was of great influence among the Belgae, and pre-eminent in the number of its population, he demanded 600 hostages. When these were delivered, and all the arms in the town collected, he went from that place into the territories of the Ambiani, who, without delay, surrendered themselves and all their possessions. Upon their territories bordered the Nervii, concerning whose character and customs when Caesar inquired he received the following information: --That "there was no access for merchants to them; that they suffered no wine and other things tending to luxury to be imported; because they thought that by their use the mind is enervated and the courage impaired: that they were a savage people and of great bravery: that they upbraided and condemned the rest of the Belgae who had surrendered themselves to the Roman people and thrown aside their national courage: that they openly declared they would neither send ambassadors, nor accept any condition of peace." XVI.--After he had made three days' march through their territories, he discovered from some prisoners, that the river Sambre was not more than ten miles from his camp: that all the Nervii had stationed themselves on the other side of that river, and together with the Atrebates and the Veromandui, their neighbours, were there awaiting the arrival of the Romans; for they had persuaded both these nations to try the same fortune of war [as themselves]: that the forces of the Aduatuci were also expected by them, and were on their march; that they had put their women, and those who through age appeared useless for war, in a place to which there was no approach for an army, on account of the marshes. XVII.--Having learnt these things, he sends forward scouts and centurions to choose a convenient place for the camp. And as a great many of the surrounding Belgae and other Gauls, following Caesar, marched with him; some of these, as was afterwards learnt from the prisoners, having accurately observed, during those days, the army's method of marching, went by night to the Nervii, and informed them that a great number of baggage-trains passed between the several legions, and that there would be no difficulty, when the first legion had come into the camp, and the other legions were at a great distance, to attack that legion while under baggage, which being routed, and the baggage-train seized, it would come to pass that the other legions would not dare to stand their ground. It added weight also to the advice of those who reported that circumstance, that the Nervii, from early times, because they were weak in cavalry (for not even at this time do they attend to it, but accomplish by their infantry whatever they can), in order that they might the more easily obstruct the cavalry of their neighbours if they came upon them for the purpose of plundering, having cut young trees, and bent them, by means of their numerous branches [extending] on to the sides, and the quick-briars and thorns springing up between them, had made these hedges present a fortification like a wall, through which it was not only impossible to enter, but even to penetrate with the eye. Since [therefore] the march of our army would be obstructed by these things, the Nervii thought that the advice ought not to be neglected by them. XVIII.--The nature of the ground which our men had chosen for the camp was this: A hill, declining evenly from the top, extended to the river Sambre, which we have mentioned above: from this river there arose a [second] hill of like ascent, on the other side and opposite to the former, and open from about 200 paces at the lowest part; but in the upper part, woody, (so much so) that it was not easy to see through it into the interior. Within those woods the enemy kept themselves in concealment; a few troops of horse-soldiers appeared on the open ground, along the river. The depth of the river was about three feet. XIX.--Caesar, having sent his cavalry on before, followed close after them with all his forces; but the plan and order of the march was different from that which the Belgae had reported to the Nervii. For as he was approaching the enemy Caesar, according to his custom, led on [as the van] six legions unencumbered by baggage; behind them he had placed the baggage-trains of the whole army; then the two legions which had been last raised closed the rear, and were a guard for the baggage-train. Our horse, with the slingers and archers, having passed the river, commenced action with the cavalry of the enemy. While they from time to time betook themselves into the woods to their companions, and again made an assault out of the wood upon our men, who did not dare to follow them in their retreat further than the limit to which the plain and open parts extended, in the meantime the six legions which had arrived first, having measured out the work, began to fortify the camp. When the first part of the baggage-train of our army was seen by those who lay hid in the woods, which had been agreed on among them as the time for commencing action, as soon as they had arranged their line of battle and formed their ranks within the woods, and had encouraged one another, they rushed out suddenly with all their forces and made an attack upon our horse. The latter being easily routed and thrown into confusion, the Nervii ran down to the river with such incredible speed that they seemed to be in the woods, the river, and close upon us almost at the same time. And with the same speed they hastened up the hill to our camp and to those who were employed in the works. XX.--Caesar had everything to do at one time: the standard to be displayed, which was the sign when it was necessary to run to arms; the signal to be given by the trumpet; the soldiers to be called off from the works; those who had proceeded some distance for the purpose of seeking materials for the rampart, to be summoned; the order of battle to be formed; the soldiers to be encouraged; the watchword to be given. A great part of these arrangements was prevented by the shortness of time and the sudden approach and charge of the enemy. Under these difficulties two things proved of advantage; [first] the skill and experience of the soldiers, because, having been trained by former engagements, they could suggest to themselves what ought to be done, as conveniently as receive information from others; and [secondly] that Caesar had forbidden his several lieutenants to depart from the works and their respective legions, before the camp was fortified. These, on account of the near approach and the speed of the enemy, did not then wait for any command from Caesar, but of themselves executed whatever appeared proper. XXI.--Caesar, having given the necessary orders, hastened to and fro into whatever quarter fortune carried him to animate the troops, and came to the tenth legion. Having encouraged the soldiers with no further speech than that "they should keep up the remembrance of their wonted valour, and not be confused in mind, but valiantly sustain the assault of the enemy"; as the latter were not farther from them than the distance to which a dart could be cast, he gave the signal for commencing battle. And having gone to another quarter for the purpose of encouraging [the soldiers], he finds them fighting. Such was the shortness of the time, and so determined was the mind of the enemy on fighting, that time was wanting not only for affixing the military insignia, but even for putting on the helmets and drawing off the covers from the shields. To whatever part any one by chance came from the works (in which he had been employed), and whatever standards he saw first, at these he stood, lest in seeking his own company he should lose the time for fighting. XXII.--The army having been marshalled, rather as the nature of the ground and the declivity of the hill and the exigency of the time, than as the method and order of military matters required; whilst the legions in the different places were withstanding the enemy, some in one quarter, some in another, and the view was obstructed by the very thick hedges intervening, as we have before remarked, neither could proper reserves be posted, nor could the necessary measures be taken in each part, nor could all the commands be issued by one person. Therefore, in such an unfavourable state of affairs, various events of fortune followed. XXIII.--The soldiers of the ninth and tenth legions, as they had been stationed on the left part of the army, casting their weapons, speedily drove the Atrebates (for that division had been opposed to them), who were breathless with running and fatigue, and worn out with wounds, from the higher ground into the river; and following them as they were endeavouring to pass it, slew with their swords a great part of them while impeded (therein). They themselves did not hesitate to pass the river; and having advanced to a disadvantageous place, when the battle was renewed, they [nevertheless] again put to flight the enemy, who had returned and were opposing them. In like manner, in another quarter two different legions, the eleventh and the eighth, having routed the Veromandui, with whom they had engaged, were fighting from the higher ground upon the very banks of the river. But, almost the whole camp on the front and on the left side being then exposed, since the twelfth legion was posted in the right wing, and the seventh at no great distance from it, all the Nervii, in a very close body, with Boduognatus, who held the chief command, as their leader, hastened towards that place; and part of them began to surround the legions on their unprotected flank, part to make for the highest point of the encampment. XXIV.--At the same time our horsemen, and light-armed infantry, who had been with those who, as I have related, were routed by the first assault of the enemy, as they were betaking themselves into the camp, met the enemy face to face, and again sought flight into another quarter; and the camp-followers who from the Decuman Gate and from the highest ridge of the hill had seen our men pass the river as victors, when, after going out for the purposes of plundering, they looked back and saw the enemy parading in our camp, committed themselves precipitately to flight; at the same time there arose the cry and shout of those who came with the baggage-train; and they (affrighted) were carried some one way, some another. By all these circumstances the cavalry of the Treviri were much alarmed (whose reputation for courage is extraordinary among the Gauls, and who had come to Caesar, being sent by their state as auxiliaries), and, when they saw our camp filled with a large number of the enemy, the legions hard pressed and almost held surrounded, the camp-retainers, horsemen, slingers, and Numidians fleeing on all sides divided and scattered, they, despairing of our affairs, hastened home, and related to their state that the Romans were routed and conquered, [and] that the enemy were in possession of their camp and baggage-train. XXV.--Caesar proceeded, after encouraging the tenth legion, to the right wing; where he perceived that his men were hard pressed, and that in consequence of the standards of the twelfth legion being collected together in one place, the crowded soldiers were a hindrance to themselves in the fight; that all the centurions of the fourth cohort were slain, and the standard-bearer killed, the standard itself lost, almost all the centurions of the other cohorts either wounded or slain, and among them the chief centurion of the legion, P. Sextius Baculus, a very valiant man, who was so exhausted by many and severe wounds, that he was already unable to support himself; he likewise perceived that the rest were slackening their efforts, and that some, deserted by those in the rear, were retiring from the battle and avoiding the weapons; that the enemy [on the other hand], though advancing from the lower ground, were not relaxing in front, and were [at the same time] pressing hard on both flanks; he also perceived that the affair was at a crisis, and that there was not any reserve which could be brought up; having therefore snatched a shield from one of the soldiers in the rear (for he himself had come without a shield), he advanced to the front of the line, and addressing the centurions by name, and encouraging the rest of the soldiers, he ordered them to carry forward the standards, and extend the companies, that they might the more easily use their swords. On his arrival, as hope was brought to the soldiers and their courage restored, whilst every one for his own part, in the sight of his general, desired to exert his utmost energy, the impetuosity of the enemy was a little checked. XXVI.--Caesar, when he perceived that the seventh legion, which stood close by him, was also hard pressed by the enemy, directed the tribunes of the soldiers to effect a junction of the legions gradually, and make their charge upon the enemy with a double front; which having been done, since they brought assistance the one to the other, nor feared lest their rear should be surrounded by the enemy, they began to stand their ground more boldly, and to fight more courageously. In the meantime, the soldiers of the two legions which had been in the rear of the army, as a guard for the baggage-train, upon the battle being reported to them, quickened their pace, and were seen by the enemy on the top of the hill; and Titus Labienus, having gained possession of the camp of the enemy, and observed from the higher ground what was going on in our camp, sent the tenth legion as a relief to our men, who, when they had learnt from the flight of the horse and the sutlers in what position the affair was, and in how great danger the camp and the legion and the commander were involved, left undone nothing [which tended] to despatch. XXVI.--By their arrival, so great a change of matters was made, that our men, even those who had fallen down exhausted with wounds, leant on their shields, and renewed the fight: then the camp-retainers, though unarmed, seeing the enemy completely dismayed, attacked [them though] armed; the horsemen too, that they might by their valour blot out the disgrace of their flight, thrust themselves before the legionary soldiers in all parts of the battle. But the enemy, even in the last hope of safety, displayed such great courage that when the foremost of them had fallen, the next stood upon them prostrate, and fought from their bodies; when these were overthrown, and their corpses heaped up together, those who survived cast their weapons against our men [thence], as from a mound, and returned our darts which had fallen between [the armies]; so that it ought not to be concluded, that men of such great courage had injudiciously dared to pass a very broad river, ascend very high banks, and come up to a very disadvantageous place; since their greatness of spirit had rendered these actions easy, although in themselves very difficult. XXVIII.--This battle being ended, and the nation and name of the Nervii being almost reduced to annihilation, their old men, whom together with the boys and women we have stated to have been collected together in the fenny places and marshes, on this battle having been reported to them, since they were convinced that nothing was an obstacle to the conquerors, and nothing safe to the conquered, sent ambassadors to Caesar by the consent of all who remained, and surrendered themselves to him; and in recounting the calamity of their state, said that their senators were reduced from 600 to three; that from 60,000 men they [were reduced] to scarcely 500 who could bear arms; whom Caesar, that he might appear to use compassion towards the wretched and the suppliant, most carefully spared; and ordered them to enjoy their own territories and towns, and commanded their neighbours that they should restrain themselves and their dependants from offering injury or outrage [to them]. XXIX.--When the Aduatuci, of whom we have written above, were coming with all their forces to the assistance of the Nervii, upon this battle being reported to them, they returned home after they were on the march; deserting all their towns and forts, they conveyed together all their possessions into one town, eminently fortified by nature. While this town had on all sides around it very high rocks and precipices, there was left on one side a gently ascending approach, of not more than 200 feet in width; which place they had fortified with a very lofty double wall: besides, they had placed stones of great weight and sharpened stakes upon the walls. They were descended from the Cimbri and Teutones, who, when they were marching into our province and Italy, having deposited on this side the river Rhine such of their baggage-trains as they could not drive or convey with them, left 6000 of their men as a guard and defence for them. These having, after the destruction of their countrymen, been harassed for many years by their neighbours, while one time they waged war offensively, and at another resisted it when waged against them, concluded a peace with the consent of all, and chose this place as their settlement. XXX.--And on the first arrival of our army they made frequent sallies from the town, and contended with our men in trifling skirmishes: afterwards, when hemmed in by a rampart of twelve feet [in height], and fifteen miles in circuit, they kept themselves within the town. When, vineae having been brought up and a mound raised, they observed that a tower also was being built at a distance, they at first began to mock the Romans from their wall, and to taunt them with the following speeches. "For what purpose was so vast a machine constructed at so great a distance?" "With what hands," or "with what strength did they, especially [as they were] men of such very small stature" (for our shortness of stature, in comparison with the great size of their bodies, is generally a subject of much contempt to the men of Gaul), "trust to place against their walls a tower of such great weight." XXXI.--But when they saw that it was being moved, and was approaching their walls, startled by the new and unaccustomed sight, they sent ambassadors to Caesar [to treat] about peace; who spoke in the following manner: "That they did not believe the Romans waged war without divine aid, since they were able to move forward machines of such a height with so great speed, and thus fight from close quarters: that they resigned themselves and all their possessions to [Caesar's] disposal: that they begged and earnestly entreated one thing, viz., that if perchance, agreeably to his clemency and humanity, which they had heard of from others, he should resolve that the Aduatuci were to be spared, he would not deprive them of their arms; that all their neighbours were enemies to them and envied their courage, from whom they could not defend themselves if their arms were delivered up: that it was better for them, if they should be reduced to that state, to suffer any fate from the Roman people, than to be tortured to death by those among whom they had been accustomed to rule." XXXII.--To these things Caesar replied, "That he, in accordance with his custom, rather than owing to their desert, should spare the state, if they should surrender themselves before the battering-ram should touch the wall; but that there was no condition of surrender, except upon their arms being delivered up; that he should do to them that which he had done in the case of the Nervii, and would command their neighbours not to offer any injury to those who had surrendered to the Roman people." The matter being reported to their countrymen, they said that they would execute his commands. Having cast a very large quantity of their arms from the wall into the trench which was before the town, so that the heaps of arms almost equalled the top of the wall and the rampart, and nevertheless having retained and concealed, as we afterwards discovered, about a third part in the town, the gates were opened, and they enjoyed peace for that day. XXXIII.--Towards evening Caesar ordered the gates to be shut, and the soldiers to go out of the town, lest the townspeople should receive any injury from them by night. They [the Aduatuci], by a design before entered into, as we afterwards understood, because they believed that, as a surrender had been made, our men would dismiss their guards, or at least would keep watch less carefully, partly with those arms which they had retained and concealed, partly with shields made of bark or interwoven wickers, which they had hastily covered over with skins (as the shortness of time required) in the third watch, suddenly made a sally from the town with all their forces [in that direction] in which the ascent to our fortifications seemed the least difficult. The signal having been immediately given by fires, as Caesar had previously commanded, a rush was made thither [_i.e._ by the Roman soldiers] from the nearest fort; and the battle was fought by the enemy as vigorously as it ought to be fought by brave men, in the last hope of safety, in a disadvantageous place, and against those who were throwing their weapons from a rampart and from towers; since all hope of safety depended on their courage alone. About 4000 of the men having been slain, the rest were forced back into the town. The day after, Caesar, after breaking open the gates, which there was no one then to defend, and sending in our soldiers, sold the whole spoil of that town. The number of 53,000 persons was reported to him by those who had bought them. XXXIV.--At the same time he was informed by P. Crassus, whom he had sent with one legion against the Veneti, the Unelli, the Osismii, the Curiosolitae, the Sesuvii, the Aulerci, and the Rhedones, which are maritime states, and touch upon the [Atlantic] ocean, that all these nations were brought under the dominion and power of the Roman people. XXXV.--These things being achieved, [and] all Gaul being subdued, so high an opinion of this war was spread among the barbarians, that ambassadors were sent to Caesar by those nations who dwelt beyond the Rhine, to promise that they would give hostages and execute his commands. Which embassies Caesar, because he was hastening into Italy and Illyricum, ordered to return to him at the beginning of the following summer. He himself, having led his legions into winter-quarters among the Carnutes, the Andes, and the Turones, which states were close to those regions in which he had waged war, set out for Italy; and a thanksgiving of fifteen days was decreed for those achievements, upon receiving Caesar's letter; [an honour] which before that time had been conferred on none. BOOK III I.--When Caesar was setting out for Italy, he sent Servius Galba with the twelfth legion and part of the cavalry against the Nantuates, the Veragri, and Seduni, who extend from the territories of the Allobroges, and the lake of Geneva, and the river Rhone to the top of the Alps. The reason for sending him was, that he desired that the pass along the Alps, through which [the Roman] merchants had been accustomed to travel with great danger, and under great imposts, should be opened. He permitted him, if he thought it necessary, to station the legion in these places, for the purpose of wintering. Galba having fought some successful battles, and stormed several of their forts, upon ambassadors being sent to him from all parts and hostages given and a peace concluded, determined to station two cohorts among the Nantuates, and to winter in person with the other cohorts of that legion in a village of the Veragri, which is called Octodurus; and this village being situated in a valley, with a small plain annexed to it, is bounded on all sides by very high mountains. As this village was divided into two parts by a river, he granted one part of it to the Gauls, and assigned the other, which had been left by them unoccupied, to the cohorts to winter in. He fortified this [latter] part with a rampart and a ditch. II.--When several days had elapsed in winter quarters, and he had ordered corn to be brought in, he was suddenly informed by his scouts that all the people had gone off in the night from that part of the town which he had given up to the Gauls, and that the mountains which hung over it were occupied by a very large force of the Sedani and Veragri. It had happened for several reasons that the Gauls suddenly formed the design of renewing the war and cutting off that legion. First, because they despised a single legion, on account of its small number, and that not quite full (two cohorts having been detached, and several individuals being absent, who had been despatched for the purpose of seeking provision); then, likewise, because they thought that on account of the disadvantageous character of the situation, even their first attack could not be sustained [by us] when they would rush from the mountains into the valley, and discharge their weapons upon us. To this was added, that they were indignant that their children were torn from them under the title of hostages, and they were persuaded that the Romans designed to seize upon the summits of the Alps, and unite those parts to the neighbouring province [of Gaul], not only to secure the passes, but also as a constant possession. III.--Having received these tidings, Galba, since the works of the winter quarters and the fortifications were not fully completed, nor was sufficient preparation made with regard to corn and other provisions (since, as a surrender had been made, and hostages received, he had thought he need entertain no apprehension of a war), speedily summoning a council, began to anxiously inquire their opinions. In which council, since so much sudden danger had happened contrary to the general expectation, and almost all the higher places were seen already covered with a multitude of armed men, nor could [either] troops come to their relief, or provisions be brought in, as the passes were blocked up [by the enemy]; safety being now nearly despaired of, some opinions of this sort were delivered; that, "leaving their baggage, and making a sally, they should hasten away for safety by the same routes by which they had come thither." To the greater part, however, it seemed best, reserving that measure to the last, to await the issue of the matter, and to defend the camp. IV.--A short time only having elapsed, so that time was scarcely given for arranging and executing those things which they had determined on, the enemy, upon the signal being given, rushed down [upon our men] from all parts, and discharged stones and darts upon our rampart. Our men at first, while their strength was fresh, resisted bravely, nor did they cast any weapon ineffectually from their higher station. As soon as any part of the camp, being destitute of defenders, seemed to be hard pressed, thither they ran, and brought assistance. But they were over-matched in this, that the enemy when wearied by the long continuance of the battle, went out of the action, and others with fresh strength came in their place; none of which things could be done by our men, owing to the smallness of their number; and not only was permission not given to the wearied [Roman] to retire from the fight, but not even to the wounded [was liberty granted] to quit the post where he had been stationed, and recover. V.--When they had now been fighting for more than six hours, without cessation, and not only strength, but even weapons were failing our men, and the enemy were pressing on more rigorously, and had begun to demolish the rampart and to fill up the trench, while our men were becoming exhausted, and the matter was now brought to the last extremity, P. Sextius Baculus, a centurion of the first rank, whom we have related to have been disabled by severe wounds in the engagement with the Nervii, and also C. Volusenus, a tribune of the soldiers, a man of great skill and valour, hasten to Galba, and assure him that the only hope of safety lay in making a sally, and trying the last resource. Whereupon, assembling the centurions, he quickly gives orders to the soldiers to discontinue the fight a short time, and only collect the weapons flung [at them], and recruit themselves after their fatigue, and afterwards, upon the signal being given, sally forth from the camp, and place in their valour all their hope of safety. VI.--They do what they were ordered; and, making a sudden sally from all the gates [of the camp], leave the enemy the means neither of knowing what was taking place, nor of collecting themselves. Fortune thus taking a turn, [our men] surround on every side, and slay those who had entertained the hope of gaining the camp, and having killed more than the third part of an army of more than 30,000 men (which number of the barbarians it appeared certain had come up to our camp), put to flight the rest when panic-stricken, and do not suffer them to halt even upon the higher grounds. All the forces of the enemy being thus routed, and stripped of their arms, [our men] betake themselves to their camp and fortifications. Which battle being finished, inasmuch as Galba was unwilling to tempt fortune again, and remembered that he had come into winter quarters with one design, and saw that he had met with a different state of affairs; chiefly however urged by the want of corn and provision, having the next day burned all the buildings of that village, he hastens to return into the province; and as no enemy opposed or hindered his march, he brought the legion safe into the [country of the] Nantuates, thence into [that of] the Allobroges, and there wintered. VII.--These things being achieved, while Caesar had every reason to suppose that Gaul was reduced to a state of tranquillity, the Belgae being overcome, the Germans expelled, the Seduni among the Alps defeated, and when he had, therefore, in the beginning of winter, set out for Illyricum, as he wished to visit those nations, and acquire a knowledge of their countries, a sudden war sprang up in Gaul. The occasion of that war was this: P. Crassus, a young man, had taken up his winter quarters with the seventh legion among the Andes, who border upon the [Atlantic] ocean. He, as there was a scarcity of corn in those parts, sent out some officers of cavalry and several military tribunes amongst the neighbouring states, for the purpose of procuring corn and provision; in which number T. Terrasidius was sent amongst the Esubii; M. Trebius Gallus amongst the Curiosolitae; Q. Velanius, with T. Silius, amongst the Veneti. VIII.--The influence of this state is by far the most considerable of any of the countries on the whole sea coast, because the Veneti both have a very great number of ships, with which they have been accustomed to sail to Britain, and [thus] excel the rest in their knowledge and experience of nautical affairs; and as only a few ports lie scattered along that stormy and open sea, of which they are in possession, they hold as tributaries almost all those who are accustomed to traffic in that sea. With them arose the beginning [of the revolt] by their detaining Silius and Velanius; for they thought that they should recover by their means the hostages which they had given to Crassus. The neighbouring people, led on by their influence (as the measures of the Gauls are sudden and hasty), detain Trebius and Terrasidius for the same motive; and quickly sending ambassadors, by means of their leading men, they enter into a mutual compact to do nothing except by general consent, and abide the same issue of fortune; and they solicit the other states to choose rather to continue in that liberty which they had received from their ancestors, than endure slavery under the Romans. All the sea coast being quickly brought over to their sentiments, they send a common embassy to P. Crassus [to say], "If he wished to receive back his officers, let him send back to them their hostages." IX.--Caesar, being informed of these things by Crassus, since he was so far distant himself, orders ships of war to be built in the meantime on the river Loire, which flows into the ocean; rowers to be raised from the province; sailors and pilots to be provided. These matters being quickly executed, he himself, as soon as the season of the year permits, hastens to the army. The Veneti, and the other states also, being informed of Caesar's arrival, when they reflected how great a crime they had committed, in that the ambassadors (a character which had amongst all nations ever been sacred and inviolable) had by them been detained and thrown into prison, resolve to prepare for a war in proportion to the greatness of their danger, and especially to provide those things which appertain to the service of a navy; with the greater confidence, inasmuch as they greatly relied on the nature of their situation. They knew that the passes by land were cut off by estuaries, that the approach by sea was most difficult, by reason of our ignorance of the localities, [and] the small number of the harbours, and they trusted that our army would not be able to stay very long among them, on account of the insufficiency of corn; and again, even if all these things should turn out contrary to their expectation, yet they were very powerful in their navy. They, well understood that the Romans neither had any number of ships, nor were acquainted with the shallows, the harbours, or the islands of those parts where they would have to carry on the war; and that navigation was very different in a narrow sea from what it was in the vast and open ocean. Having come to this resolution, they fortify their towns, convey corn into them from the country parts, bring together as many ships as possible to Venetia, where it appeared Caesar would at first carry on the war. They unite to themselves as allies for that war, the Osismii, the Lexovii, the Nannetes, the Ambiliati, the Morini, the Diablintes, and the Menapii; and send for auxiliaries from Britain, which is situated over against those regions. X.--There were these difficulties which we have mentioned above, in carrying on the war, but many things, nevertheless, urged Caesar to that war; the open insult offered to the state in the detention of the Roman knights, the rebellion raised after surrendering, the revolt after hostages were given, the confederacy of so many states, but principally, lest if [the conduct of] this part was overlooked, the other nations should think that the same thing was permitted them. Wherefore, since he reflected that almost all the Gauls were fond of revolution, and easily and quickly excited to war; that all men likewise, by nature, love liberty and hate the condition of slavery, he thought he ought to divide and more widely distribute his army, before more states should join the confederation. XI.--He therefore sends T. Labienus, his lieutenant, with the cavalry to the Treviri, who are nearest to the river Rhine. He charges him to visit the Remi and the other Belgians, and to keep them in their allegiance and repel the Germans (who were said to have been summoned by the Belgae to their aid) if they attempted to cross the river by force in their ships. He orders P. Crassus to proceed into Aquitania with twelve legionary cohorts and a great number of the cavalry, lest auxiliaries should be sent into Gaul by these states, and such great nations be united. He sends Q. Titurius Sabinus, his lieutenant, with three legions, among the Unelli, the Curiosolitae, and the Lexovii, to take care that their forces should be kept separate from the rest. He appoints D. Brutus, a young man, over the fleet and those Gallic vessels which he had ordered to be furnished by the Pictones and the Santoni, and the other provinces which remained at peace; and commands him to proceed towards the Veneti, as soon as he could. He himself hastens thither with the land forces. XII.--The sites of their towns were generally such that, being placed on extreme points [of land] and on promontories, they neither had an approach by land when the tide had rushed in from the main ocean, which always happens twice in the space of twelve hours; nor by ships, because, upon the tide ebbing again, the ships were likely to be dashed upon the shoals. Thus, by either circumstance, was the storming of their towns rendered difficult; and if at any time perchance the Veneti, overpowered by the greatness of our works (the sea having been excluded by a mound and large dams, and the latter being made almost equal in height to the walls of the town), had begun to despair of their fortunes, bringing up a large number of ships, of which they had a very great quantity, they carried off all their property and betook themselves to the nearest towns; there they again defended themselves by the same advantages of situation. They did this the more easily during a great part of the summer, because our ships were kept back by storms, and the difficulty of sailing was very great in that vast and open sea, with its strong tides and its harbours far apart and exceedingly few in number. XIII.--For their ships were built and equipped after this manner. The keels were somewhat flatter than those of our ships, whereby they could more easily encounter the shallows and the ebbing of the tide: the prows were raised very high, and in like manner the sterns were adapted to the force of the waves and storms [which they were formed to sustain]. The ships were built wholly of oak, and designed to endure any force and violence whatever; the benches, which were made of planks a foot in breadth, were fastened by iron spikes of the thickness of a man's thumb; the anchors were secured fast by iron chains instead of cables, and for sails they used skins and thin dressed leather. These [were used] either through their want of canvas and their ignorance of its application, or for this reason, which is more probable, that they thought that such storms of the ocean, and such violent gales of wind could not be resisted by sails, nor ships of such great burden be conveniently enough managed by them. The encounter of our fleet with these ships was of such a nature that our fleet excelled in speed alone, and the plying of the oars; other things, considering the nature of the place [and] the violence of the storms, were more suitable and better adapted on their side; for neither could our ships injure theirs with their beaks (so great was their strength), nor on account of their height was a weapon easily cast up to them; and for the same reason they were less readily locked in by rocks. To this was added, that whenever a storm began to rage and they ran before the wind, they both could weather the storm more easily and heave to securely in the shallows, and when left by the tide feared nothing from rocks and shelves: the risk of all which things was much to be dreaded by our ships. XIV.--Caesar, after taking many of their towns, perceiving that so much labour was spent in vain and that the flight of the enemy could not be prevented on the capture of their towns, and that injury could not be done them, he determined to wait for his fleet. As soon as it came up and was first seen by the enemy, about 220 of their ships, fully equipped and appointed with every kind of [naval] implement, sailed forth from the harbour, and drew up opposite to ours; nor did it appear clear to Brutus, who commanded the fleet, or to the tribunes of the soldiers and the centurions, to whom the several ships were assigned, what to do, or what system of tactics to adopt; for they knew that damage could not be done by their beaks; and that, although turrets were built [on their decks], yet the height of the stems of the barbarian ships exceeded these; so that weapons could not be cast up from [our] lower position with sufficient effect, and those cast by the Gauls fell the more forcibly upon us. One thing provided by our men was of great service, [viz.] sharp hooks inserted into and fastened upon poles, of a form not unlike the hooks used in attacking town walls. When the ropes which fastened the sail-yards to the masts were caught by them and pulled, and our vessel vigorously impelled with the oars, they [the ropes] were severed; and when they were cut away, the yards necessarily fell down; so that as all the hope of the Gallic vessels depended on their sails and rigging, upon these being cut away, the entire management of the ships was taken from them at the same time. The rest of the contest depended on courage; in which our men decidedly had the advantage; and the more so because the whole action was carried on in the sight of Caesar and the entire army; so that no act, a little more valiant than ordinary, could pass unobserved, for all the hills and higher grounds, from which there was a near prospect of the sea, were occupied by our army. XV.--The sail-yards [of the enemy], as we have said, being brought down, although two and [in some cases] three ships [of theirs] surrounded each one [of ours], the soldiers strove with the greatest energy to board the ships of the enemy: and, after the barbarians observed this taking place, as a great many of their ships were beaten, and as no relief for that evil could be discovered, they hastened to seek safety in flight. And, having now turned their vessels to that quarter in which the wind blew, so great a calm and lull suddenly arose, that they could not move out of their place, which circumstance, truly, was exceedingly opportune for finishing the business; for our men gave chase and took them one by one, so that very few out of all the number, [and those] by the intervention of night, arrived at the land, after the battle had lasted almost from the fourth hour till sunset. XVI.--By this battle the war with the Veneti and the whole of the sea coast was finished; for both all the youth, and all, too, of more advanced age, in whom there was any discretion or rank, had assembled in that battle; and they had collected in that one place whatever naval forces they had anywhere; and when these were lost, the survivors had no place to retreat to, nor means of defending their towns. They accordingly surrendered themselves and all their possessions to Caesar, on whom Caesar thought that punishment should be inflicted the more severely, in order that for the future the rights of ambassadors might be more carefully respected, by barbarians: having, therefore, put to death all their senate, he sold the rest for slaves. XVII.--While these things are going on amongst the Veneti, Q. Titurius Sabinus with those troops which he had received from Caesar, arrives in the territories of the Unelli. Over these people Viridovix ruled, and held the chief command of all those states which had revolted: from which he had collected a large and powerful army. And in those few days, the Aulerci and the Sexovii, having slain their senate because they would not consent to be promoters of the war, shut their gates [against us] and united themselves to Viridovix; a great multitude besides of desperate men and robbers assembled out of Gaul from all quarters, whom the hope of plundering and the love of fighting had called away from husbandry and their daily labour. Sabinus kept himself within his camp, which was in a position convenient for everything; while Viridovix encamped over against him at a distance of two miles, and daily bringing out his forces, gave him an opportunity of fighting; so that Sabinus had now not only come into contempt with the enemy, but also was somewhat taunted by the speeches of our soldiers; and furnished so great a suspicion of his cowardice that the enemy presumed to approach even to the very rampart of our camp. He adopted this conduct for the following reason: because he did not think that a lieutenant ought to engage in battle with so great a force, especially while he who held the chief command was absent, except on advantageous ground or some favourable circumstance presented itself. XVIII.--After having established this suspicion of his cowardice, he selected a certain suitable and crafty Gaul, who was one of those whom he had with him as auxiliaries. He induces him by great gifts and promises to go over to the enemy; and informs [him] of what he wished to be done. Who, when he arrives amongst them as a deserter, lays before them the fears of the Romans; and informs them by what difficulties Caesar himself was harassed, and that the matter was not far removed from this--that Sabinus would the next night privately draw off his army out of the camp and set forth to Caesar, for the purpose of carrying [him] assistance, which, when they heard, they all cry out together that an opportunity of successfully conducting their enterprise ought not to be thrown away; that they ought to go to the [Roman] camp. Many things persuaded the Gauls to this measure; the delay of Sabinus during the previous days; the positive assertion of the [pretended] deserter; want of provisions, for a supply of which they had not taken the requisite precautions; the hope springing from the Venetic war; and [also] because in most cases men willingly believe what they wish. Influenced by these things, they do not discharge Viridovix and the other leaders from the council, before they gained permission from them to take up arms and hasten to [our] camp; which being granted, rejoicing as if victory were fully certain, they collected faggots and brushwood, with which to fill up the Roman trenches, and hasten to the camp. XIX.--The situation of the camp was a rising ground, gently sloping from the bottom for about a mile. Thither they proceeded with great speed (in order that as little time as possible might be given to the Romans to collect and arm themselves), and arrived quite out of breath. Sabinus having encouraged his men, gives them the signal, which they earnestly desired. While the enemy were encumbered by reason of the burdens which they were carrying, he orders a sally to be suddenly made from two gates [of the camp]. It happened, by the advantage of situation, by the unskilfulness and the fatigue of the enemy, by the valour of our soldiers, and their experience in former battles, that they could not stand one attack of our men, and immediately turned their backs: and our men with full vigour followed them while disordered, and slew a great number of them; the horse pursuing the rest, left but few, who escaped by flight. Thus at the same time, Sabinus was informed of the naval battle and Caesar of victory gained by Sabinus; and all the states immediately surrendered themselves to Titurius: for as the temper of the Gauls is impetuous and ready to undertake wars, so their mind is weak, and by no means resolute in enduring calamities. XX.--About the same time, P. Crassus, when he had arrived in Aquitania (which, as has been before said, both from its extent of territory and the great number of its people, is to be reckoned a third part of Gaul), understanding that he was to wage war in these parts, where a few years before L. Valerius Praeconinus, the lieutenant, had been killed, and his army routed, and from which L. Manilius, the proconsul, had fled with the loss of his baggage, he perceived that no ordinary care must be used by him. Wherefore, having provided corn, procured auxiliaries and cavalry, [and] having summoned by name many valiant men from Tolosa, Carcaso, and Narbo, which are the states of the province of Gaul, that border on these regions [Aquitania], he led his army into the territories of the Sotiates. On his arrival being known, the Sotiates having brought together great forces and [much] cavalry, in which their strength principally lay, and assailing our army on the march, engaged first in a cavalry action, then when their cavalry was routed, and our men pursuing, they suddenly display their infantry forces, which they had placed in ambuscade in a valley. These attacked our men [while] disordered, and renewed the fight. XXI.--The battle was long and vigorously contested, since the Sotiates, relying on their former victories, imagined that the safety of the whole of Aquitania rested on their valour; [and] our men, on the other hand, desired it might be seen what they could accomplish without their general and without the other legions, under a very young commander; at length the enemy, worn out with wounds, began to turn their backs, and a great number of them being slain, Crassus began to besiege the [principal] town of the Sotiates on his march. Upon their valiantly resisting, he raised vineae and turrets. They at one time attempting a sally, at another forming mines to our rampart and vineae (at which the Aquitani are eminently skilled, because in many places amongst them there are copper mines); when they perceived that nothing could be gained by these operations through the perseverance of our men, they send ambassadors to Crassus, and entreat him to admit them to a surrender. Having obtained it, they, being ordered to deliver up their arms, comply. XXII.--And while the attention of our men is engaged in that matter, in another part Adcantuannus, who held the chief command, with 600 devoted followers, whom they call soldurii (the conditions of whose association are these,--that they enjoy all the conveniences of life with those to whose friendship they have devoted themselves: if anything calamitous happen to them, either they endure the same destiny together with them, or commit suicide: nor hitherto, in the memory of men, has there been found any one who, upon his being slain to whose friendship he had devoted himself, refused to die); Adcantuannus, [I say] endeavouring to make a sally with these, when our soldiers had rushed together to arms, upon a shout being raised at that part of the fortification, and a fierce battle had been fought there, was driven back into the town, yet he obtained from Crassus [the indulgence] that he should enjoy the same terms of surrender [as the other inhabitants]. XXIII.--Crassus, having received their arms and hostages, marched into the territories of the Vocates and the Tarusates. But then, the barbarians being alarmed, because they had heard that a town fortified by the nature of the place and by art had been taken by us in a few days after our arrival there, began to send ambassadors into all quarters, to combine, to give hostages one to another, to raise troops. Ambassadors also are sent to those states of Hither Spain which are nearest to Aquitania, and auxiliaries and leaders are summoned from them; on whose arrival they proceed to carry on the war with great confidence, and with a great host of men. They who had been with Q. Sertorius the whole period [of his war in Spain] and were supposed to have very great skill in military matters, are chosen leaders. These, adopting the practice of the Roman people, begin to select [advantageous] places, to fortify their camp, to cut off our men from provisions, which, when Crassus observes, [and likewise] that his forces, on account of their small number, could not safely be separated; that the enemy both made excursions and beset the passes, and [yet] left sufficient guard for their camp; that on that account, corn and provision could not very conveniently be brought up to him, and that the number of the enemy was daily increased, he thought that he ought not to delay in giving battle. This matter being brought to a council, when he discovered that all thought the same thing, he appointed the next day for the fight. XXIV.--Having drawn out all his forces at the break of day, and marshalled them in a double line, he posted the auxiliaries in the centre, and waited to see what measures the enemy would take. They, although on account of their great number and their ancient renown in war, and the small number of our men, they supposed they might safely fight, nevertheless considered it safer to gain the victory without any wound, by besetting the passes [and] cutting off the provisions: and if the Romans, on account of the want of corn, should begin to retreat, they intended to attack them while encumbered in their march and depressed in spirit [as being assailed while] under baggage. This measure being approved of by the leaders and the forces of the Romans drawn out, the enemy [still] kept themselves in their camp. Crassus having remarked this circumstance, since the enemy, intimidated by their own delay, and by the reputation [_i.e._ for cowardice arising thence] had rendered our soldiers more eager for fighting, and the remarks of all were heard [declaring] that no longer ought delay to be made in going to the camp, after encouraging his men, he marches to the camp of the enemy, to the great gratification of his own troops. XXV.--There, while some were filling up the ditch, and others, by throwing a large number of darts, were driving the defenders from the rampart and fortifications, and the auxiliaries, on whom Crassus did not much rely in the battle, by supplying stones and weapons [to the soldiers], and by conveying turf to the mound, presented the appearance and character of men engaged in fighting; while also the enemy were fighting resolutely and boldly, and their weapons, discharged from their higher position, fell with great effect; the horse, having gone round the camp of the enemy, reported to Crassus that the camp was not fortified with equal care on the side of the Decuman gate, and had an easy approach. XXVI.--Crassus, having exhorted the commanders of the horse to animate their men by great rewards and promises, points out to them what he wished to have done. They, as they had been commanded, having brought out the four cohorts, which, as they had been left as a guard for the camp, were not fatigued by exertion, and having led them round by a somewhat longer way, lest they could be seen from the camp of the enemy, when the eyes and minds of all were intent upon the battle, quickly arrived at those fortifications which we have spoken of, and, having demolished these, stood in the camp of the enemy before they were seen by them, or it was known what was going on. And then, a shout being heard in that quarter, our men, their strength having been recruited (which usually occurs on the hope of victory), began to fight more vigorously. The enemy, surrounded on all sides, [and] all their affairs being despaired of, made great attempts to cast themselves down over the ramparts and to seek safety in flight. These the cavalry pursued over the very open plains, and after leaving scarcely a fourth part out of the number of 50,000, which it was certain had assembled out of Aquitania and from the Cantabri, returned late at night to the camp. XXVII.--Having heard of this battle, the greatest part of Aquitania surrendered itself to Crassus, and of its own accord sent hostages, in which number were the Tarbelli, the Bigerriones, the Preciani, the Vocasates, the Tarusates, the Elurates, the Garites, the Ausci, the Garumni, the Sibuzates, the Cocosates. A few [and those] most remote nations, relying on the time of the year, because winter was at hand, neglected to do this. XXVIII.--About the same time Caesar, although the summer was nearly past, yet since, all Gaul being reduced, the Morini and the Menapii alone remained in arms, and had never sent ambassadors to him [to make a treaty] of peace, speedily led his army thither, thinking that that war might soon be terminated. They resolved to conduct the war on a very different method from the rest of the Gauls; for as they perceived that the greatest nations [of Gaul] who had engaged in war, had been routed and overcome, and as they possessed continuous ranges of forests and morasses, they removed themselves and all their property thither. When Caesar had arrived at the opening of these forests, and had begun to fortify his camp, and no enemy was in the meantime seen, while our men were dispersed on their respective duties, they suddenly rushed out from all parts of the forest, and made an attack on our men. The latter quickly took up arms and drove them back again to their forests; and having killed a great many, lost a few of their own men while pursuing them too far through those intricate places. XXIX.--During the remaining days after this, Caesar began to cut down the forests; and that no attack might be made on the flank of the soldiers, while unarmed and not foreseeing it, he placed together (opposite to the enemy) all that timber which was cut down, and piled it up as a rampart on either flank. When a great space had been, with incredible speed, cleared in a few days, when the cattle [of the enemy] and the rear of their baggage-train were already seized by our men, and they themselves were seeking for the thickest parts of the forests, storms of such a kind came on that the work was necessarily suspended, and, through the continuance of the rains, the soldiers could not any longer remain in their tents. Therefore, having laid waste all their country, [and] having burnt their villages and houses, Caesar led back his army and stationed them in winter-quarters among the Aulerci and Lexovii, and the other states which had made war upon him last. BOOK IV I.-The following winter (this was the year in which Cn. Pompey and M. Crassus were consuls), those Germans [called] the Usipetes, and likewise the Tenchtheri, with a great number of men, crossed the Rhine, not far from the place at which that river discharges itself into the sea. The motive for crossing [that river] was that, having been for several years harassed by the Suevi, they were constantly engaged in war, and hindered from the pursuits of agriculture. The nation of the Suevi is by far the largest and the most warlike nation of all the Germans. They are said to possess a hundred cantons, from each of which they yearly send from their territories for the purpose of war a thousand armed men: the others who remain at home, maintain [both] themselves and those engaged in the expedition. The latter again, in their turn, are in arms the year after: the former remain at home. Thus neither husbandry nor the art and practice of war are neglected. But among them there exists no private and separate land; nor are they permitted to remain more than one year in one place for the purpose of residence. They do not live much on corn, but subsist for the most part on milk and flesh, and are much [engaged] in hunting; which circumstance must, by the nature of their food, and by their daily exercise and the freedom of their life (for having from boyhood been accustomed to no employment, or discipline, they do nothing at all contrary to their inclination), both promote their strength and render them men of vast stature of body. And to such a habit have they brought themselves, that even in the coldest parts they wear no clothing whatever except skins, by reason of the scantiness of which a great portion of their body is bare, and besides they bathe in open rivers. II.--Merchants have access to them rather that they may have persons to whom they may sell those things which they have taken in war, than because they need any commodity to be imported to them. Moreover, even as to labouring cattle, in which the Gauls take the greatest pleasure, and which they procure at a great price, the Germans do not employ such as are imported, but those poor and ill-shaped animals which belong to their country; these, however, they render capable of the greatest labour by daily exercise. In cavalry actions they frequently leap from their horses and fight on foot; and train their horses to stand still in the very spot on which they leave them, to which they retreat with great activity when there is occasion; nor, according to their practice, is anything regarded as more unseemly, or more unmanly, than to use housings. Accordingly, they have the courage, though they be themselves but few, to advance against any number whatever of horse mounted with housings. They on no account permit wine to be imported to them, because they consider that men degenerate in their powers of enduring fatigue, and are rendered effeminate by that commodity. III.--They esteem it their greatest praise as a nation that the lands about their territories lie unoccupied to a very great extent, inasmuch as [they think] that by this circumstance is indicated that a great number of nations cannot, withstand their power; and thus on one side of the Suevi the lands are said to lie desolate for about six hundred miles. On the other side they border on the Ubii, whose state was large and flourishing, considering the condition of the Germans, and who are somewhat more refined than those of the same race and the rest [of the Germans], and that because they border on the Rhine, and are much resorted to by merchants, and are accustomed to the manners of the Gauls, by reason of their approximity to them. Though the Suevi, after making the attempt frequently and in several wars, could not expel this nation from their territories, on account of the extent and population of their state, yet they made them tributaries, and rendered them less distinguished and powerful [than they had ever been]. IV.--In the same condition were the Usipetes and the Tenchtheri (whom we have mentioned above), who for many years resisted the power of the Suevi, but being at last driven from their possessions, and having wandered through many parts of Germany, came to the Rhine, to districts which the Menapii inhabited, and where they had lands, houses, and villages on either side of the river. The latter people, alarmed by the arrival of so great a multitude, removed from those houses which they had on the other side of the river, and having placed guards on this side the Rhine, proceeded to hinder the Germans from crossing. They, finding themselves, after they had tried all means, unable either to force a passage on account of their deficiency in shipping, or cross by stealth on account of the guards of the Menapii, pretended to return to their own settlements and districts; and, after having proceeded three days' march, returned; and their cavalry having performed the whole of this journey in one night, cut off the Menapii, who were ignorant of, and did not expect [their approach, and] who, having moreover been informed of the departure of the Germans by their scouts, had without apprehension returned to their villages beyond the Rhine. Having slain these, and seized their ships, they crossed the river before that part of the Menapii, who were at peace in their settlements over the Rhine, were apprised of [their intention]; and seizing all their houses, maintained themselves upon their provisions during the rest of the winter. V.--Caesar, when informed of these matters, fearing the fickle disposition of the Gauls, who are easily prompted to take up resolutions, and much addicted to change, considered that nothing was to be entrusted to them; for it is the custom of that people to compel travellers to stop, even against their inclination, and inquire what they may have heard, or may know, respecting any matter; and in towns the common people throng around merchants and force them to state from what countries they come, and what affairs they know of there. They often engage in resolutions concerning the most important matters, induced by these reports and stories alone; of which they must necessarily instantly repent, since they yield to mere unauthorised reports; and since most people give to their questions answers framed agreeably to their wishes. VI.--Caesar, being aware of their custom, in order that he might not encounter a more formidable war, sets forward to the army earlier in the year than he was accustomed to do. When he had arrived there, he discovered that those things, which he had suspected would occur, had taken place; that embassies had been sent to the Germans by some of the states, and that they had been entreated to leave the Rhine, and had been promised that all things which they desired should be provided by the Gauls. Allured by this hope, the Germans were then making excursions to greater distances, and had advanced to the territories of the Eburones and the Condrusi, who are under the protection of the Treviri. After summoning the chiefs of Gaul, Caesar thought proper to pretend ignorance of the things which he had discovered; and having conciliated and confirmed their minds, and ordered some cavalry to be raised, resolved to make war against the Germans. VII.--Having provided corn and selected his cavalry, he began to direct his march towards those parts in which he heard the Germans were. When he was distant from them only a few days' march, ambassadors come to him from their state; whose speech was as follows:--"That the Germans neither make war upon the Roman people first, nor do they decline, if they are provoked, to engage with them in arms; for that this was the custom of the Germans handed down to them from their forefathers, to resist whatsoever people make war upon them and not to avert it by entreaty; this, however, they confessed,--that they had come hither reluctantly, having been expelled from their country. If the Romans were disposed to accept their friendship, they might be serviceable allies to them; and let them either assign them lands, or permit them to retain those which they had acquired by their arms; that they are inferior to the Suevi alone, to whom not even the immortal gods can show themselves equal; that there was none at all besides on earth whom they could not conquer." VIII.--To these remarks Caesar replied in such terms as he thought proper; but the conclusion of his speech was, "That he could make no alliance with them, if they continued in Gaul; that it was not probable that they who were not able to defend their own territories, should get possession of those of others, nor were there any lands lying waste in Gaul which could be given away, especially to so great a number of men, without doing wrong [to others]; but they might, if they were desirous, settle in the territories of the Ubii; whose ambassadors were then with him, and were complaining of the aggressions of the Suevi, and requesting assistance from him; and that he would obtain this request from them." IX.--The ambassadors said that they would report these things to their countrymen; and, after having deliberated on the matter, would return to Caesar after the third day, they begged that he would not in the meantime advance his camp nearer to them. Caesar said that he could not grant them even that; for he had learned that they had sent a great part of their cavalry over the Meuse to the Ambivariti, some days before, for the purpose of plundering and procuring forage. He supposed that they were then waiting for these horse, and that the delay was caused on this account. X.--The Meuse rises from mount Le Vosge, which is in the territories of the Lingones; and, having received a branch of the Rhine, which is called the Waal, forms the island of the Batavi, and not more than eighty miles from it it falls into the ocean. But the Rhine takes its course among the Lepontii, who inhabit the Alps, and is carried with a rapid current for a long distance through the territories of the Sarunates, Helvetii, Sequani, Mediomatrici, Tribuci, and Treviri, and when it approaches the ocean, divides into several branches; and, having formed many and extensive islands, a great part of which are inhabited by savage and barbarous nations (of whom there are some who are supposed to live on fish and the eggs of sea-fowl), flows into the ocean by several mouths. XI.--When Caesar was not more than twelve miles distant from the enemy, the ambassadors return to him, as had been arranged; who meeting him on the march, earnestly entreated him not to advance any farther. When they could not obtain this, they begged him to send on a despatch to those who had marched in advance of the main army, and forbid them to engage; and grant them permission to send ambassadors to the Ubii, and if the princes and senate of the latter would give them security by oath, they assured Caesar that they would accept such conditions as might be proposed by him; and requested that he would give them the space of three days for negotiating these affairs. Caesar thought that these things tended to the self-same point [as their other proposal]; [namely] that, in consequence of a delay of three days intervening, their horse which were at a distance might return; however, he said, that he would not that day advance farther than four miles for the purpose of procuring water; he ordered that they should assemble at that place in as large a number as possible the following day, that he might inquire into their demands. In the meantime he sends messengers to the officers who had marched in advance with all the cavalry to order them not to provoke the enemy to an engagement, and if they themselves were assailed, to sustain the attack until he came up with the army. XII.--But the enemy, as soon as they saw our horse, the number of which was 5000, whereas they themselves had not more than 800 horse, because those which had gone over the Meuse for the purpose of foraging had not returned, while our men had no apprehensions, because their ambassadors had gone away from Caesar a little before, and that day had been requested by them as a period of truce, made an onset on our men, and soon threw them into disorder. When our men, in their turn, made a stand, they, according to their practice, leaped from their horses to their feet, and stabbing our horses in the belly and overthrowing a great many of our men, put the rest to flight, and drove them forward so much alarmed that they did not desist from their retreat till they had come in sight of our army. In that encounter seventy-four of our horse were slain; among them, Piso, an Aquitanian, a most valiant man, and descended from a very illustrious family; whose grandfather had held the sovereignty of his state, and had been styled friend by our senate. He, while he was endeavouring to render assistance to his brother who was surrounded by the enemy, and whom he rescued from danger, was himself thrown from his horse, which was wounded under him, but still opposed [his antagonists] with the greatest intrepidity, as long as he was able to maintain the conflict. When at length he fell, surrounded on all sides and after receiving many wounds, and his brother, who had then retired from the fight, observed it from a distance, he spurred on his horse, threw himself upon the enemy, and was killed. XIII.--After this engagement, Caesar considered that neither ought ambassadors to be received to audience, nor conditions be accepted by him from those who, after having sued for peace by way of stratagem and treachery, had made war without provocation. And to wait till the enemy's forces were augmented and their cavalry had returned, he concluded, would be the greatest madness; and knowing the fickleness of the Gauls, he felt how much influence the enemy had already acquired among them by this one skirmish. He [therefore] deemed that no time for converting measures ought to be afforded them. After having resolved on these things and communicated his plans to his lieutenants and quaestor in order that he might not suffer any opportunity for engaging to escape him, a very seasonable event occurred, namely, that on the morning of the next day, a large body of Germans, consisting of their princes and old men, came to the camp to him to practise the same treachery and dissimulation; but, as they asserted, for the purpose of acquitting themselves for having engaged in a skirmish the day before, contrary to what had been agreed and to what, indeed, they themselves had requested; and also if they could by any means obtain a truce by deceiving him. Caesar, rejoicing that they had fallen into his power, ordered them to be detained. He then drew all his forces out of the camp, and commanded the cavalry, because he thought they were intimidated by the late skirmish, to follow in the rear. XIV.--Having marshalled his army in three lines, and in a short time performed a march of eight miles, he arrived at the camp of the enemy before the Germans could perceive what was going on; who being suddenly alarmed by all the circumstances, both by the speediness of our arrival and the absence of their own officers, as time was afforded neither for concerting measures nor for seizing their arms, are perplexed as to whether it would be better to lead out their forces against the enemy, or to defend their camp, or seek their safety by flight. Their consternation being made apparent by their noise and tumult, our soldiers, excited by the treachery of the preceding day, rushed into the camp: such of them as could readily get their arms for a short time withstood our men, and gave battle among their carts and baggage-waggons; but the rest of the people, [consisting] of boys and women (for they had left their country and crossed the Rhine with all their families), began to fly in all directions; in pursuit of whom Caesar sent the cavalry. XV.--The Germans when, upon hearing a noise behind them, [they looked and] saw that their families were being slain, throwing away their arms and abandoning their standards, fled out of the camp, and when they had arrived at the confluence of the Meuse and the Rhine, the survivors despairing of farther escape, as a great number of their countrymen had been killed, threw themselves into the river and there perished, overcome by fear, fatigue, and the violence of the stream. Our soldiers, after the alarm of so great a war, for the number of the enemy amounted to 430,000, returned to their camp, all safe to a man, very few being even wounded. Caesar granted those whom he had detained in the camp liberty of departing. They however, dreading revenge and torture from the Gauls, whose lands they had harassed, said that they desired to remain with him. Caesar granted them permission. XVI.--The German war being finished, Caesar thought it expedient for him to cross the Rhine, for many reasons; of which this was the most weighty, that, since he saw the Germans were so easily urged to go into Gaul, he desired they should have their fears for their own territories when they discovered that the army of the Roman people both could and dared pass the Rhine. There was added also, that that portion of the cavalry of the Usipetes and the Tenchtheri, which I have above related to have crossed the Meuse for the purpose of plundering and procuring forage, and was not present at the engagement, had betaken themselves, after the retreat of their countrymen, across the Rhine into the territories of the Sigambri, and united themselves to them. When Caesar sent ambassadors to them, to demand that they should give up to him those who had made war against him and against Gaul, they replied, "That the Rhine bounded the empire of the Roman people; if he did not think it just for the Germans to pass over into Gaul against his consent, why did he claim that anything beyond the Rhine should be subject to his dominion or power?" The Ubii also, who alone, out of all the nations lying beyond the Rhine, had sent ambassadors to Caesar, and formed an alliance and given hostages, earnestly entreated "that he would bring them assistance, because they were grievously oppressed by the Suevi; or, if he was prevented from doing so by the business of the commonwealth, he would at least transport his army over the Rhine; that that would be sufficient for their present assistance and their hope for the future; that so great was the name and the reputation of his army, even among the most remote nations of the Germans, arising from the defeat of Ariovistus and this last battle which was fought, that they might be safe under the fame and friendship of the Roman people." They promised a large number of ships for transporting the army. XVII.--Caesar, for those reasons which I have mentioned, had resolved to cross the Rhine; but to cross by ships he neither deemed to be sufficiently safe, nor considered consistent with his own dignity or that of the Roman people. Therefore, although the greatest difficulty in forming a bridge was presented to him, on account of the breadth, rapidity, and depth of the river, he nevertheless considered that it ought to be attempted by him, or that his army ought not otherwise to be led over. He devised this plan of a bridge. He joined together at the distance of two feet, two piles, each a foot and a half thick, sharpened a little at the lower end, and proportioned in length to the depth of the river. After he had, by means of engines, sunk these into the river, and fixed them at the bottom, and then driven them in with rammers, not quite perpendicularly, like a stake, but bending forward and sloping, so as to incline in the direction of the current of the river; he also placed two [other piles] opposite to these, at the distance of forty feet lower down, fastened together in the same manner, but directed against the force and current of the river. Both these, moreover, were kept firmly apart by beams two feet thick (the space which the binding of the piles occupied), laid in at their extremities between two braces on each side; and in consequence of these being in different directions and fastened on sides the one opposite to the other, so great was the strength of the work, and such the arrangement of the materials, that in proportion as the greater body of water dashed against the bridge, so much the closer were its parts held fastened together. These beams were bound together by timber laid over them in the direction of the length of the bridge, and were [then] covered over with laths and hurdles; and in addition to this, piles were driven into the water obliquely, at the lower side of the bridge, and these serving as buttresses, and being connected with every portion of the work, sustained the force of the stream: and there were others also above the bridge, at a moderate distance; that if trunks of trees or vessels were floated down the river by the barbarians for the purpose of destroying the work, the violence of such things might be diminished by these defences, and might not injure the bridge. XVIII.--Within ten days after the timber began to be collected, the whole work was completed, and the whole army led over. Caesar, leaving a strong guard at each end of the bridge, hastens into the territories of the Sigambri. In the meantime ambassadors from several nations come to him, whom, on their suing for peace and alliance, he answers in a courteous manner, and orders hostages to be brought to him. But the Sigambri, at the very time the bridge was begun to be built, made preparations for a flight (by the advice of such of the Tenchtheri and Usipetes as they had amongst them), and quitted their territories and conveyed away all their possessions, and concealed themselves in deserts and woods. XIX.--Caesar, having remained in their territories a few days, and burnt all their villages and houses, and cut down their corn, proceeded into the territories of the Ubii; and having promised them his assistance, if they were ever harassed by the Suevi, he learned from them these particulars: that the Suevi, after they had by means of their scouts found that the bridge was being built, had called a council, according to their custom, and sent orders to all parts of their state to remove from the towns and convey their children, wives, and all their possessions into the woods, and that all who could bear arms should assemble in one place; that the place thus chosen was nearly the centre of those regions which the Suevi possessed; that in this spot they had resolved to await the arrival of the Romans, and give them battle there. When Caesar discovered this, having already accomplished all those things on account of which he had resolved to lead his army over, namely, to strike fear into the Germans, take vengeance on the Sigambri, and free the Ubii from the invasion of the Suevi, having spent altogether eighteen days beyond the Rhine, and thinking he had advanced far enough to serve both honour and interest, he returned into Gaul, and cut down the bridge. XX.--During the short part of summer which remained, Caesar, although in these countries, as all Gaul lies towards the north, the winters are early, nevertheless resolved to proceed into Britain, because he discovered that in almost all the wars with the Gauls succours had been furnished to our enemy from that country; and even if the time of year should be insufficient for carrying on the war, yet he thought it would be of great service to him if he only entered the island, and saw into the character of the people, and got knowledge of their localities, harbours, and landing-places, all which were for the most part unknown to the Gauls. For neither does any one except merchants generally go thither, nor even to them was any portion of it known, except the sea-coast and those parts which are opposite to Gaul. Therefore, after having called up to him the merchants from all parts, he could learn neither what was the size of the island, nor what or how numerous were the nations which inhabited it, nor what system of war they followed, nor what customs they used, nor what harbours were convenient for a great number of large ships. XXI.--He sends before him Caius Volusenus with a ship of war, to acquire a knowledge of these particulars before he in person should make a descent into the island, as he was convinced that this was a judicious measure. He commissioned him to thoroughly examine into all matters, and then return to him as soon as possible. He himself proceeds to the Morini with all his forces. He orders ships from all parts of the neighbouring countries, and the fleet which the preceding summer he had built for the war with the Veneti, to assemble in this place. In the meantime, his purpose having been discovered, and reported to the Britons by merchants, ambassadors come to him from several states of the island, to promise that they will give hostages, and submit to the government of the Roman people. Having given them an audience, he after promising liberally, and exhorting them to continue in that purpose, sends them back to their own country, and [despatches] with them Commius, whom, upon subduing the Atrebates, he had created king there, a man whose courage and conduct he esteemed, and who he thought would be faithful to him, and whose influence ranked highly in those countries. He orders him to visit as many states as he could, and persuade them to embrace the protection of the Roman people, and apprise them that he would shortly come thither. Volusenus, having viewed the localities as far as means could be afforded one who dared not leave his ship and trust himself to barbarians, returns to Caesar on the fifth day, and reports what he had there observed. XXII.--While Caesar remains in these parts for the purpose of procuring ships, ambassadors come to him from a great portion of the Morini, to plead their excuse respecting their conduct on the late occasion; alleging that it was as men uncivilised, and as those who were unacquainted with our custom, that they had made war upon the Roman people, and promising to perform what he should command. Caesar, thinking that this had happened fortunately enough for him, because he neither wished to leave an enemy behind him, nor had an opportunity for carrying on a war, by reason of the time of year, nor considered that employment in such trifling matters was to be preferred to his enterprise on Britain, imposes a large number of hostages; and when these were brought, he received them to his protection. Having collected together and provided about eighty transport ships, as many as he thought necessary for conveying over two legions, he assigned such [ships] of war as he had besides to the quaestor, his lieutenants, and officers of cavalry. There were in addition to these eighteen ships of burden which were prevented, eight miles from that place, by winds, from being able to reach the same port. These he distributed amongst the horse; the rest of the army he delivered to Q. Titurius Sabinus and L. Aurunculeius Cotta, his lieutenants, to lead into the territories of the Menapii and those cantons of the Morini from which ambassadors had not come to him. He ordered P. Sulpicius Rufus, his lieutenant, to hold possession of the harbour, with such a garrison as he thought sufficient. XXIII.--These matters being arranged, finding the weather favourable for his voyage, he set sail about the third watch, and ordered the horse to march forward to the farther port, and there embark and follow him. As this was performed rather tardily by them, he himself reached Britain with the first squadron of ships, about the fourth hour of the day, and there saw the forces of the enemy drawn up in arms on all the hills. The nature of the place was this: the sea was confined by mountains so close to it that a dart could be thrown from their summit upon the shore. Considering this by no means a fit place for disembarking, he remained at anchor till the ninth hour, for the other ships to arrive there. Having in the meantime assembled the lieutenants and military tribunes, he told them both what he had learnt from Volusenus, and what he wished to be done; and enjoined them (as the principle of military matters, and especially as maritime affairs, which have a precipitate and uncertain action, required) that all things should be performed by them at a nod and at the instant. Having dismissed them, meeting both with wind and tide favourable at the same time, the signal being given and the anchor weighed, he advanced about seven miles from that place, and stationed his fleet over against an open and level shore. XXIV.--But the barbarians, upon perceiving the design of the Romans, sent forward their cavalry and charioteers, a class of warriors of whom it is their practice to make great use in their battles, and following with the rest of their forces, endeavoured to prevent our men landing. In this was the greatest difficulty, for the following reasons, namely, because our ships, on account of their great size, could be stationed only in deep water; and our soldiers, in places unknown to them, with their hands embarrassed, oppressed with a large and heavy weight of armour, had at the same time to leap from the ships, stand amidst the waves, and encounter the enemy; whereas they, either on dry ground, or advancing a little way into the water, free in all their limbs, in places thoroughly known to them, could confidently throw their weapons and spur on their horses, which were accustomed to this kind of service. Dismayed by these circumstances and altogether untrained in this mode of battle, our men did not all exert the same vigour and eagerness which they had been wont to exert in engagements on dry ground. XXV.--When Caesar observed this, he ordered the ships of war, the appearance of which was somewhat strange to the barbarians and the motion more ready for service, to be withdrawn a little from the transport vessels, and to be propelled by their oars, and be stationed towards the open flank of the enemy, and the enemy to be beaten off and driven away with slings, arrows, and engines: which plan was of great service to our men; for the barbarians being startled by the form of our ships and the motions of our oars and the nature of our engines, which was strange to them, stopped, and shortly after retreated a little. And while our men were hesitating [whether they should advance to the shore], chiefly on account of the depth of the sea, he who carried the eagle of the tenth legion, after supplicating the gods that the matter might turn out favourably to the legion, exclaimed, "Leap, fellow soldiers, unless you wish to betray your eagle to the enemy. I, for my part, will perform my duty to the commonwealth and my general." When he had said this with a loud voice, he leaped from the ship and proceeded to bear the eagle toward the enemy. Then our men, exhorting one another that so great a disgrace should not be incurred, all leaped from the ship. When those in the nearest vessels saw them, they speedily followed and approached the enemy. XXVI.--The battle was maintained vigorously on both sides. Our men, however, as they could neither keep their ranks, nor get firm footing, nor follow their standards, and as one from one ship and another from another assembled around whatever standards they met, were thrown into great confusion. But the enemy, who were acquainted with all the shallows, when from the shore they saw any coming from a ship one by one, spurred on their horses, and attacked them while embarrassed; many surrounded a few, others threw their weapons upon our collected forces on their exposed flank. When Caesar observed this, he ordered the boats of the ships of war and the spy sloops to be filled with soldiers, and sent them up to the succour of those whom he had observed in distress. Our men, as soon as they made good their footing on dry ground, and all their comrades had joined them, made an attack upon the enemy, and put them to flight, but could not pursue them very far, because the horse had not been able to maintain their course at sea and reach the island. This alone was wanting to Caesar's accustomed success. XXVII.--The enemy being thus vanquished in battle, as soon as they recovered after their flight, instantly sent ambassadors to Caesar to negotiate about peace. They promised to give hostages and perform what he should command. Together with these ambassadors came Commius the Atrebatian, who, as I have above said, had been sent by Caesar into Britain. Him they had seized upon when leaving his ship, although in the character of ambassador he bore the general's commission to them, and thrown into chains: then after the battle was fought, they sent him back, and in suing for peace cast the blame of that act upon the common people, and entreated that it might be pardoned on account of their indiscretion. Caesar, complaining that after they had sued for peace, and had voluntarily sent ambassadors into the continent for that purpose, they had made war without a reason, said that he would pardon their indiscretion, and imposed hostages, a part of whom they gave immediately; the rest they said they would give in a few days, since they were sent for from remote places. In the meantime they ordered their people to return to the country parts, and the chiefs assembled from all quarters, and proceeded to surrender themselves and their states to Caesar. XXVIII.--A peace being established by these proceedings four days after we had come into Britain, the eighteen ships, to which reference has been made above, and which conveyed the cavalry, set sail from the upper port with a gentle gale; when, however, they were approaching Britain and were seen from the camp, so great a storm suddenly arose that none of them could maintain their course at sea; and some were taken back to the same port from which they had started;--others, to their great danger, were driven to the lower part of the island, nearer to the west; which, however, after having cast anchor, as they were getting filled with water, put out to sea through necessity in a stormy night, and made for the continent. XXIX.--It happened that night to be full moon, which usually occasions very high tides in that ocean; and that circumstance was unknown to our men. Thus, at the same time, the tide began to fill the ships of war which Caesar had provided to convey over his army, and which he had drawn up on the strand; and the storm began to dash the ships of burden which were riding at anchor against each other; nor was any means afforded our men of either managing them or of rendering any service. A great many ships having been wrecked, inasmuch as the rest, having lost their cables, anchors, and other tackling, were unfit for sailing, a great confusion, as would necessarily happen, arose throughout the army; for there were no other ships in which they could be conveyed back, and all things which are of service in repairing vessels were wanting, and corn for the winter had not been provided in those places, because it was understood by all that they would certainly winter in Gaul. XXX.--On discovering these things the chiefs of Britain, who had come up after the battle was fought to perform those conditions which Caesar had imposed, held a conference, when they perceived that cavalry, and ships, and corn were wanting to the Romans, and discovered the small number of our soldiers from the small extent of the camp (which, too, was on this account more limited than ordinary because Caesar had conveyed over his legions without baggage), and thought that the best plan was to renew the war, and cut off our men from corn and provisions and protract the affair till winter; because they felt confident that, if they were vanquished or cut off from a return, no one would afterwards pass over into Britain for the purpose of making war. Therefore, again entering into a conspiracy, they began to depart from the camp by degrees and secretly bring up their people from the country parts. XXXI.--But Caesar, although he had not as yet discovered their measures, yet, both from what had occurred to his ships, and from the circumstance that they had neglected to give the promised hostages, suspected that the thing would come to pass which really did happen. He therefore provided remedies against all contingencies; for he daily conveyed corn from the country parts into the camp, used the timber and brass of such ships as were most seriously damaged for repairing the rest, and ordered whatever things besides were necessary for this object to be brought to him from the continent. And thus, since that business was executed by the soldiers with the greatest energy, he effected that, after the loss of twelve ships, a voyage could be made well enough in the rest. XXXII.--While these things are being transacted, one legion had been sent to forage, according to custom, and no suspicion of war had arisen as yet, and some of the people remained in the country parts, others went backwards and forwards to the camp, they who were on duty at the gates of the camp reported to Caesar that a greater dust than was usual was seen in that direction in which the legion had marched. Caesar, suspecting that which was [really the case],--that some new enterprise was undertaken by the barbarians, ordered the two cohorts which were on duty to march into that quarter with him, and two other cohorts to relieve them on duty; the rest to be armed and follow him immediately. When he had advanced some little way from the camp, he saw that his men were overpowered by the enemy and scarcely able to stand their ground, and that, the legion being crowded together, weapons were being cast on them from all sides. For as all the corn was reaped in every part with the exception of one, the enemy, suspecting that our men would repair to that, had concealed themselves in the woods during the night. Then attacking them suddenly, scattered as they were, and when they had laid aside their arms, and were engaged in reaping, they killed a small number, threw the rest into confusion, and surrounded them with their cavalry and chariots. XXXIII.--Their mode of fighting with their chariots is this: firstly, they drive about in all directions and throw their weapons and generally break the ranks of the enemy with the very dread of their horses and the noise of their wheels; and when they have worked themselves in between the troops of horse, leap from their chariots and engage on foot. The charioteers in the meantime withdraw some little distance from the battle, and so place themselves with the chariots that, if their masters are overpowered by the number of the enemy, they may have a ready retreat to their own troops. Thus they display in battle the speed of horse, [together with] the firmness of infantry; and by daily practice and exercise attain to such expertness that they are accustomed, even on a declining and steep place, to check their horses at full speed, and manage and turn them in an instant and run along the pole, and stand on the yoke, and thence betake themselves with the greatest celerity to their chariots again. XXXIV.-Under these circumstances, our men being dismayed by the novelty of this mode of battle, Caesar most seasonably brought assistance; for upon his arrival the enemy paused, and our men recovered from their fear; upon which, thinking the time unfavourable for provoking the enemy and coming to an action, he kept himself in his own quarter, and, a short time having intervened, drew back the legions into the camp. While these things were going on, and all our men engaged, the rest of the Britons, who were in the fields, departed. Storms then set in for several successive days, which both confined our men to camp and hindered the enemy from attacking us. In the meantime the barbarians despatched messengers to all parts and reported to their people the small number of our soldiers, and how good an opportunity was given for obtaining spoil and for liberating themselves for ever, if they should only drive the Romans from their camp. Having by these means speedily got together a large force of infantry and of cavalry, they came up to the camp. XXXV.--Although Caesar anticipated that the same thing which had happened on former occasions would then occur--that, if the enemy were routed, they would escape from danger by their speed; still, having got about thirty horse, which Commius the Atrebatian, of whom mention has been made, had brought over with him [from Gaul], he drew up the legions in order of battle before the camp. When the action commenced, the enemy were unable to sustain the attack of our men long, and turned their backs; our men pursued them as far as their speed and strength permitted, and slew a great number of them; then, having destroyed and burnt everything far and wide, they retreated to their camp. XXXVI.--The same day, ambassadors sent by the enemy came to Caesar to negotiate a peace. Caesar doubled the number of hostages which he had before demanded; and ordered that they should be brought over to the continent, because, since the time of the equinox was near, he did not consider that, with his ships out of repair, the voyage ought to be deferred till winter. Having met with favourable weather he set sail a little after midnight, and all his fleet arrived safe at the continent, except two of the ships of burden which could not make the same port which the other ships did, and were carried a little lower down. XXXVII.--When our soldiers, about 300 in number, had been drawn out of these two ships, and were marching to the camp, the Morini, whom Caesar, when setting forth for Britain, had left in a state of peace, excited by the hope of spoil, at first surrounded them with a small number of men, and ordered them to lay down their arms, if they did not wish to be slain; afterwards however, when they, forming a circle, stood on their defence, a shout was raised and about 6000 of the enemy soon assembled; which being reported, Caesar sent all the cavalry in the camp as a relief to his men. In the meantime our soldiers sustained the attack of the enemy, and fought most valiantly for more than four hours, and, receiving but few wounds themselves, slew several of them. But after our cavalry came in sight, the enemy, throwing away their arms, turned their backs, and a great number of them were killed. XXXVIII.--The day following Caesar sent Labienus, his lieutenant, with those legions which he had brought back from Britain, against the Morini, who had revolted; who, as they had no place to which they might retreat, on account of the drying up of their marshes (which they had availed themselves of as a place of refuge the preceding year), almost all fell into the power of Labienus. In the meantime Caesar's lieutenants, Q. Titurius and L. Cotta, who had led the legions into the territories of the Menapii, having laid waste all their lands, cut down their corn and burnt their houses, returned to Caesar because the Menapii had all concealed themselves in their thickest woods. Caesar fixed the winter quarters of all the legions amongst the Belgae. Thither only two British states sent hostages; the rest omitted to do so. For these successes, a thanksgiving of twenty days was decreed by the senate upon receiving Caesar's letter. BOOK V I.--Lucius Domitius and Appius Claudius being consuls, Caesar when departing from his winter quarters into Italy, as he had been accustomed to do yearly, commands the lieutenants whom he appointed over the legions to take care that during the winter as many ships as possible should be built, and the old repaired. He plans the size and shape of them. For despatch of lading, and for drawing them on shore, he makes them a little lower than those which we have been accustomed to use in our sea; and that so much the more, because he knew that, on account of the frequent changes of the tide, less swells occurred there; for the purpose of transporting little and a great number of horses, [he makes them] a little broader than those which we use in other seas. All these he orders to be constructed for lightness and expedition, to which object their lowness contributes greatly. He orders those things which are necessary for equipping ships to be brought thither from Spain. He himself, on the assizes of Hither Gaul being concluded, proceeds into Illyricum, because he heard that the part of the province nearest them was being laid waste by the incursions of the Pirustae. When he had arrived there, he levies soldiers upon the states, and orders them to assemble at an appointed place. Which circumstance having been reported [to them], the Pirustae send ambassadors to him to inform him that no part of those proceedings was done by public deliberation, and assert that they were ready to make compensation by all means for the injuries [inflicted]. Caesar, accepting their defence, demands hostages, and orders them to be brought to him on a specified day, and assures them that unless they did so he would visit their state with war. These being brought to him on the day which he had ordered, he appoints arbitrators between the states, who should estimate the damages and determine the reparation. II.--These things being finished, and the assizes being concluded, he returns into Hither Gaul, and proceeds thence to the army. When he had arrived there, having made a survey of the winter quarter, he finds that, by the extraordinary ardour of the soldiers, amidst the utmost scarcity of all materials, about six hundred ships of that kind which we have described above, and twenty-eight ships of war, had been built, and were not far from that state that they might be launched in a few days. Having commended the soldiers and those who had presided over the work, he informs them what he wishes to be done, and orders all the ships to assemble at port Itius, from which port he had learned that the passage into Britain was shortest, [being only] about thirty miles from the continent. He left what seemed a sufficient number of soldiers for that design; he himself proceeds into the territories of the Treviri with four legions without baggage, and 800 horse, because they neither came to the general diets [of Gaul], nor obeyed his commands, and were, moreover, said to be tampering with the Germans beyond the Rhine. III.--This state is by far the most powerful of all Gaul in cavalry, and has great forces of infantry, and as we have remarked above, borders on the Rhine. In that state, two persons, Indutiomarus and Cingetorix, were then contending with each other for the supreme power; one of whom, as soon as the arrival of Caesar and his legions was known, came to him; assures him that he and all his party would continue in their allegiance, and not revolt from the alliance of the Roman people, and informs him of the things which were going on amongst the Treviri. But Indutiomarus began to collect cavalry and infantry, and make preparations for war, having concealed those who by reason of their age could not be under arms in the forest Arduenna, which is of immense size, [and] extends from the Rhine across the country of the Treviri to the frontiers of the Remi. But after that, some of the chief persons of the state, both influenced by their friendship for Cingetorix, and alarmed at the arrival of our army, came to Caesar and began to solicit him privately about their own interests, since they could not provide for the safety of the state; Indutiomarus, dreading lest he should be abandoned by all, sends ambassadors to Caesar, to declare that he absented himself from his countrymen, and refrained from coming to him on this account, that he might the more easily keep the state in its allegiance, lest on the departure of all the nobility the commonalty should, in their indiscretion, revolt. And thus the whole state was at his control; and that he, if Caesar would permit, would come to the camp to him, and would commit his own fortunes and those of the state to his good faith. IV.--Caesar, though he discerned from what motive these things were said, and what circumstance deterred him from his meditated plan, still, in order that he might not be compelled to waste the summer among the Treviri, while all things were prepared for the war with Britain, ordered Indutiomarus to come to him with 200 hostages. When these were brought, [and] among them his son and near relations whom he had demanded by name, he consoled Indutiomarus, and enjoined him to continue in his allegiance; yet, nevertheless, summoning to him the chief men of the Treviri, he reconciled them individually to Cingetorix: this he both thought should be done by him in justice to the merits of the latter, and also judged that it was of great importance that the influence of one whose singular attachment towards him he had fully seen, should prevail as much as possible among his people. Indutiomarus was very much offended at this act, [seeing that] his influence was diminished among his countrymen; and he, who already before had borne a hostile mind towards us, was much more violently inflamed against us through resentment at this. V.--These matters being settled, Caesar went to port Itius with the legions. There he discovers that forty ships which had been built in the country of the Meldi, having been driven back by a storm, had been unable to maintain their course, and had returned to the same port from which they had set out; he finds the rest ready for sailing, and furnished with everything. In the same place, the cavalry of the whole of Gaul, in number 4000, assembles, and [also] the chief persons of all the states; he had determined to leave in Gaul a very few of them, whose fidelity towards him he had clearly discerned, and take the rest with him as hostages; because he feared a commotion in Gaul when he should be absent. VI.--There was together with the others, Dumnorix, the Aeduan, of whom we have made previous mention. Him in particular he had resolved to have with him, because he had discovered him to be fond of change, fond of power, possessing great resolution, and great influence among the Gauls. To this was added that Dumnorix had before said in an assembly of Aeduans, that the sovereignty of the state had been made over to him by Caesar; which speech the Aedui bore with impatience and yet dared not send ambassadors to Caesar for the purpose of either rejecting or deprecating [that appointment]. That fact Caesar had learned from his own personal friends. He at first strove to obtain by every entreaty that he should be left in Gaul; partly, because, being unaccustomed to sailing, he feared the sea; partly, because he said he was prevented by divine admonitions. After he saw that this request was firmly refused him, all hope of success being lost, he began to tamper with the chief persons of the Gauls, to call them apart singly and exhort them to remain on the continent; to agitate them with the fear that it was not without reason that Gaul should be stript of all her nobility; that it was Caesar's design to bring over to Britain and put to death all those whom he feared to slay in the sight of Gaul, to pledge his honour to the rest, to ask for their oath that they would by common deliberation execute what they should perceive to be necessary for Gaul. These things were reported to Caesar by several persons. VII.--Having learned this fact, Caesar, because he had conferred so much honour upon the Aeduan state, determined that Dumnorix should be restrained and deterred by whatever means he could; and that, because he perceived his insane designs to be proceeding farther and farther, care should be taken lest he might be able to injure him and the commonwealth. Therefore, having stayed about twenty-five days in that place, because the north wind, which usually blows a great part of every season, prevented the voyage, he exerted himself to keep Dumnorix in his allegiance [and] nevertheless learn all his measures: having at length met with favourable weather, he orders the foot soldiers and the horse to embark in the ships. But, while the minds of all were occupied, Dumnorix began to take his departure from the camp homewards with the cavalry of the Aedui, Caesar being ignorant of it. Caesar, on this matter being reported to him, ceasing from his expedition and deferring all other affairs, sends a great part of the cavalry to pursue him, and commands that he be brought back; he orders that if he use violence and do not submit, that he be slain: considering that Dumnorix would do nothing as a rational man while he himself was absent, since he had disregarded his command even when present. He, however, when recalled, began to resist and defend himself with his hand, and implore the support of his people, often exclaiming that "he was free and the subject of a free state." They surround and kill the man as they had been commanded; but the Aeduan horsemen all return to Caesar. VIII.--When these things were done [and] Labienus, left on the continent with three legions and 2000 horse, to defend the harbours and provide corn, and discover what was going on in Gaul, and take measures according to the occasion and according to the circumstance; he himself, with five legions and a number of horse, equal to that which he was leaving on the continent, set sail at sunset and [though for a time] borne forward by a gentle south-west wind, he did not maintain his course, in consequence of the wind dying away about midnight, and being carried on too far by the tide, when the sun rose, espied Britain passed on his left. Then, again, following the change of tide, he urged on with the oars that he might make that port of the island in which he had discovered the preceding summer that there was the best landing-place, and in this affair the spirit of our soldiers was very much to be extolled; for they with the transports and heavy ships, the labour of rowing not being [for a moment] discontinued, equalled the speed of the ships of war. All the ships reached Britain nearly at mid-day; nor was there seen a [single] enemy in that place, but, as Caesar afterwards found from some prisoners, though large bodies of troops had assembled there, yet being alarmed by the great number of our ships, more than eight hundred of which, including the ships of the preceding year, and those private vessels which each had built for his own convenience, had appeared at one time, they had quitted the coast and concealed themselves among the higher points. IX.--Caesar, having disembarked his army and chosen a convenient place for the camp, when he discovered from the prisoners in what part the forces of the enemy had lodged themselves, having left ten cohorts and 300 horse at the sea, to be a guard to the ships, hastens to the enemy, at the third watch, fearing the less for the ships for this reason, because he was leaving them fastened at anchor upon an even and open shore; and he placed Q. Atrius over the guard of the ships. He himself, having advanced by night about twelve miles, espied the forces of the enemy. They, advancing to the river with their cavalry and chariots from the higher ground, began to annoy our men and give battle. Being repulsed by our cavalry, they concealed themselves in woods, as they had secured a place admirably fortified by nature and by art, which, as it seemed, they had before prepared on account of a civil war; for all entrances to it were shut up by a great number of felled trees. They themselves rushed out of the woods to fight here and there, and prevented our men from entering their fortifications. But the soldiers of the seventh legion, having formed a testudo and thrown up a rampart against the fortification, took the place and drove them out of the woods, receiving only a few wounds. But Caesar forbade his men to pursue them in their flight any great distance; both because he was ignorant of the nature of the ground, and because, as a great part of the day was spent, he wished time to be left for the fortification of the camp. X.--The next day, early in the morning, he sent both foot-soldiers and horse in three divisions on an expedition to pursue those who had fled. These having advanced a little way, when already the rear [of the enemy] was in sight, some horse came to Caesar from Quintus Atrius, to report that the preceding night, a very great storm having arisen, almost all the ships were dashed to pieces and cast upon the shore, because neither the anchors and cables could resist, nor could the sailors and pilots sustain the violence of the storm; and thus great damage was received by that collision of the ships. XI.--These things being known [to him], Caesar orders the legions and cavalry to be recalled and to cease from their march; he himself returns to the ships: he sees clearly before him almost the same things which he had heard of from the messengers and by letter, so that, about forty ships being lost, the remainder seemed capable of being repaired with much labour. Therefore he selects workmen from the legions, and orders others to be sent for from the continent; he writes to Labienus to build as many ships as he could with those legions which were with him. He himself, though the matter was one of great difficulty and labour, yet thought it to be most expedient for all the ships to be brought up on shore and joined with the camp by one fortification. In these matters he employed about ten days, the labour of the soldiers being unremitting even during the hours of night. The ships having been brought up on shore and the camp strongly fortified, he left the same forces which he did before as a guard for the ships; he sets out in person for the same place that he had returned from. When he had come thither, greater forces of the Britons had already assembled at that place, the chief command and management of the war having been entrusted to Cassivellaunus, whose territories a river, which is called the Thames, separates from the maritime states at about eighty miles from the sea. At an earlier period perpetual wars had taken place between him and the other states; but, greatly alarmed by our arrival, the Britons had placed him over the whole war and the conduct of it. XII.--The interior portion of Britain is inhabited by those of whom they say that it is handed down by tradition that they were born in the island itself: the maritime portion by those who had passed over from the country of the Belgae for the purpose of plunder and making war; almost all of whom are called by the names of those states from which being sprung they went thither, and having waged war, continued there and began to cultivate the lands. The number of the people is countless, and their buildings exceedingly numerous, for the most part very like those of the Gauls: the number of cattle is great. They use either brass or iron rings, determined at a certain weight, as their money. Tin is produced in the midland regions; in the maritime, iron; but the quantity of it is small: they employ brass, which is imported. There, as in Gaul, is timber of every description, except beech and fir. They do not regard it lawful to eat the hare, and the cock, and the goose; they, however, breed them for amusement and pleasure. The climate is more temperate than in Gaul, the colds being less severe. XIII.--The island is triangular in its form, and one of its sides is opposite to Gaul. One angle of this side, which is in Kent, whither almost all ships from Gaul are directed, [looks] to the east; the lower looks to the south. This side extends about 500 miles. Another side lies towards Spain and the west, on which part is Ireland, less, as is reckoned, than Britain by one-half; but the passage [from it] into Britain is of equal distance with that from Gaul. In the middle of this voyage is an island, which is called Mona; many smaller islands besides are supposed to lie [there], of which islands some have written that at the time of the winter solstice it is night there for thirty consecutive days. We, in our inquiries about that matter, ascertained nothing, except that, by accurate measurements with water, we perceived the nights to be shorter there than on the continent. The length of this side, as their account states, is 700 miles. The third side is towards the north, to which portion of the island no land is opposite; but an angle of that side looks principally towards Germany. This side is considered to be 800 miles in length. Thus the whole island is [about] 2000 miles in circumference. XIV.--The most civilised of all these nations are they who inhabit Kent, which is entirely a maritime district, nor do they differ much from the Gallic customs. Most of the inland inhabitants do not sow corn, but live on milk and flesh, and are clad with skins. All the Britons, indeed, dye themselves with wood, which occasions a bluish colour, and thereby have a more terrible appearance in fight. They wear their hair long, and have every part of their body shaved except their head and upper lip. Ten and even twelve have wives common to them, and particularly brothers among brothers, and parents among their children; but if there be any issue by these wives, they are reputed to be the children of those by whom respectively each was first espoused when a virgin. XV.--The horse and charioteers of the enemy contended vigorously in a skirmish with our cavalry on the march; yet so that our men were conquerors in all parts, and drove them to their woods and hills; but, having slain a great many, they pursued too eagerly, and lost some of their men. But the enemy, after some time had elapsed, when our men were off their guard, and occupied in the fortification of the camp, rushed out of the woods, and making an attack upon those who were placed on duty before the camp, fought in a determined manner; and two cohorts being sent by Caesar to their relief, and these severally the first of two legions, when these had taken up their position at a very small distance from each other, as our men were disconcerted by the unusual mode of battle, the enemy broke through the middle of them most courageously, and retreated thence in safety. That day, Q. Laberius Durus, a tribune of the soldiers, was slain. The enemy, since more cohorts were sent against them, were repulsed. XVI.--In the whole of this method of fighting since the engagement took place under the eyes of all and before the camp, it was perceived that our men, on account of the weight of their arms, inasmuch as they could neither pursue [the enemy when] retreating, nor dare quit their standards, were little suited to this kind of enemy; that the horse also fought with great danger, because they [the Britons] generally retreated even designedly, and, when they had drawn off our men a short distance from the legions, leaped from their chariots and fought on foot in unequal [and to them advantageous] battle. But the system of cavalry engagement is wont to produce equal danger, and indeed the same, both to those who retreat and those who pursue. To this was added, that they never fought in close order, but in small parties and at great distances, and had detachments placed [in different parts], and then the one relieved the other, and the vigorous and fresh succeeded the wearied. XVII.--The following day the enemy halted on the hills, a distance from our camp, and presented themselves in small parties, and began to challenge our horse to battle with less spirit than the day before. But at noon, when Caesar had sent three legions, and all the cavalry with C. Trebonius, the lieutenant, for the purpose of foraging, they flew upon the foragers suddenly from all quarters, so that they did not keep off [even] from the standards and the legions. Our men making an attack on them vigorously, repulsed them; nor did they cease to pursue them until the horse, relying on relief, as they saw the legions behind them, drove the enemy precipitately before them, and, slaying a great number of them, did not give them the opportunity either of rallying or halting, or leaping from their chariots. Immediately after this retreat, the auxiliaries who had assembled from all sides, departed; nor after that time did the enemy ever engage with us in very large numbers. XVIII.--Caesar, discovering their design, leads his army into the territories of Cassivellaunus to the river Thames; which river can be forded in one place only, and that with difficulty. When he had arrived there, he perceives that numerous forces of the enemy were marshalled on the other bank of the river; the bank also was defended by sharp stakes fixed in front, and stakes of the same kind fixed under the water were covered by the river. These things being discovered from [some] prisoners and deserters, Caesar, sending forward the cavalry, ordered the legions to follow them immediately. But the soldiers advanced with such speed and such ardour, though they stood above the water by their heads only, that the enemy could not sustain the attack of the legions and of the horse, and quitted the banks, and committed themselves to flight. XIX.--Cassivellaunus, as we have stated above, all hope [rising out] of battle being laid aside, the greater part of his forces being dismissed, and about 4000 charioteers only being left, used to observe our marches and retire a little from the road, and conceal himself in intricate and woody places, and in those neighbourhoods in which he had discovered we were about to march, he used to drive the cattle and the inhabitants from the fields into the woods; and, when our cavalry, for the sake of plundering and ravaging the more freely, scattered themselves among the fields, he used to send out charioteers from the woods by all the well-known roads and paths, and, to the great danger of our horse, engage with them; and this source of fear hindered them from straggling very extensively. The result was that Caesar did not allow excursions to be made to a great distance from the main body of the legions, and ordered that damage should be done to the enemy in ravaging their lands and kindling fires only so far as the legionary soldiers could, by their own exertion and marching, accomplish it. XX.--In the meantime, the Trinobantes, almost the most powerful state of those parts, from which the young man Mandubratius embracing the protection of Caesar had come to the continent of Gaul to [meet] him (whose father, Imanuentius, had possessed the sovereignty in that state, and had been killed by Cassivellaunus; he himself had escaped death by flight), send ambassadors to Caesar, and promise that they will surrender themselves to him and perform his commands; they entreat him to protect Mandubratius from the violence of Cassivellaunus, and send to their state some one to preside over it, and possess the government. Caesar demands forty hostages from them, and corn for his army, and sends Mandubratius to them. They speedily performed the things demanded, and sent hostages to the number appointed, and the corn. XXI.--The Trinobantes being protected and secured from any violence of the soldiers, the Cenimagni, the Segontiaci, the Ancalites, the Bibroci, and the Cassi, sending embassies, surrender themselves to Caesar. From them he learns that the capital town of Cassivellaunus was not far from that place, and was defended by woods and morasses, and a very large number of men and of cattle had been collected in it. (Now the Britons, when they have fortified the intricate woods, in which they are wont to assemble for the purpose of avoiding the incursion of an enemy, with an entrenchment and a rampart, call them a town.) Thither he proceeds with his legions: he finds the place admirably fortified by nature and art; he, however, undertakes to attack it in two directions. The enemy, having remained only a short time, did not sustain the attack of our soldiers, and hurried away on the other side of the town. A great amount of cattle was found there, and many of the enemy were taken and slain in their flight. XXII.--While these things are going forward in those places, Cassivellaunus sends messengers into Kent, which, we have observed above, is on the sea, over which districts four several kings reigned, Cingetorix, Carvilius, Taximagulus, and Segonax, and commands them to collect all their forces, and unexpectedly assail and storm the naval camp. When they had come to the camp, our men, after making a sally, slaying many of their men, and also capturing a distinguished leader named Lugotorix, brought back their own men in safety. Cassivellaunus, when this battle was reported to him, as so many losses had been sustained, and his territories laid waste, being alarmed most of all by the desertion of the states, sends ambassadors to Caesar [to treat] about a surrender through the mediation of Commius the Atrebatian. Caesar, since he had determined to pass the winter on the continent, on account of the sudden revolts of Gaul, and as much of the summer did not remain, and he perceived that even that could be easily protracted, demands hostages, and prescribes what tribute Britain should pay each year to the Roman people; he forbids and commands Cassivellaunus that he wage not war against Mandubratius or the Trinobantes. XXIII.--When he had received the hostages, he leads back the army to the sea, and finds the ships repaired. After launching these, because he had a large number of prisoners, and some of the ships had been lost in the storm, he determines to convey back his army at two embarkations. And it so happened, that out of so large a number of ships, in so many voyages, neither in this nor in the previous year was any ship missing which conveyed soldiers; but very few out of those which were sent back to him from the continent empty, as the soldiers of the former convoy had been disembarked, and out of those (sixty in number) which Labienus had taken care to have built, reached their destination; almost all the rest were driven back, and when Caesar had waited for them for some time in vain, lest he should be debarred from a voyage by the season of the year, inasmuch as the equinox was at hand, he of necessity stowed his soldiers the more closely, and, a very great calm coming on, after he had weighed anchor at the beginning of the second watch, he reached land at break of day and brought in all the ships in safety. XXIV.--The ships having been drawn up and a general assembly of the Gauls held at Samarobriva, because the corn that year had not prospered in Gaul by reason of the droughts, he was compelled to station his army in its winter-quarters, differently from the former years, and to distribute the legions among several states: one of them he gave to C. Fabius, his lieutenant, to be marched into the territories of the Morini; a second to Q. Cicero, into those of the Nervii; a third to L. Roscius, into those of the Essui; a fourth he ordered to winter with T. Labienus among the Remi in the confines of the Treviri; he stationed three in Belgium; over these he appointed M. Crassus, his questor, and L. Munatius Plancus and C. Trebonius, his lieutenants. One legion which he had raised last on the other side of the Po, and five cohorts, he sent amongst the Eburones, the greatest portion of whom lie between the Meuse and the Rhine, [and] who were under the government of Ambiorix and Cativolcus. He ordered Q. Titurius Sabinus and L. Aurunculeius Cotta, his lieutenants, to take the command of these soldiers. The legions being distributed in this manner, he thought he could most easily remedy the scarcity of corn; and yet the winter-quarters of all these legions (except that which he had given to L. Roscius to be led into the most peaceful and tranquil neighbourhood) were comprehended within [about] 100 miles. He himself in the meanwhile, until he had stationed the legions and knew that the several winter-quarters were fortified, determined to stay in Gaul. XXV.--There was among the Carnutes a man named Tasgetius, born of very high rank, whose ancestors had held the sovereignty in his state. To him Caesar had restored the position of his ancestors, in consideration of his prowess and attachment towards him, because in all his wars he had availed himself of his valuable services. His personal enemies had killed him when in the third year of his reign, many even of his own state being openly promoters [of that act]. This event is related to Caesar. He fearing, because several were involved in the act, that the state might revolt at their instigation, orders Lucius Plancus, with a legion, to proceed quickly from Belgium to the Carnutes, and winter there, and arrest and send to him the persons by whose instrumentality he should discover that Tasgetius was slain. In the meantime, he was apprised by all the lieutenants and questors to whom he had assigned the legions, that they had arrived in winter-quarters, and that the place for the quarters was fortified. XXVI.--About fifteen days after they had come into winter-quarters, the beginning of a sudden insurrection and revolt arose from Ambiorix and Cativolcus, who, though they had met with Sabinus and Cotta at the borders of their kingdom, and had conveyed corn into our winter-quarters, induced by the messages of Indutiomarus, one of the Treviri, excited their people, and after having suddenly assailed the soldiers, engaged in procuring wood, came with a large body to attack the camp. When our men had speedily taken up arms and had ascended the rampart, and sending out some Spanish horse on one side, had proved conquerors in a cavalry action, the enemy, despairing of success, drew off their troops from the assault. Then they shouted, according to their custom, that some of our men should go forward to a conference, [alleging] that they had some things which they desired to say respecting the common interest, by which they trusted their disputes could be removed. XXVII.--C. Arpineius, a Roman knight, the intimate friend of Q. Titurius, and with him Q. Junius, a certain person from Spain, who already on previous occasions had been accustomed to go to Ambiorix, at Caesar's mission, is sent to them for the purpose of a conference: before them Ambiorix spoke to this effect: "That he confessed that for Caesar's kindness towards him he was very much indebted to him, inasmuch as by his aid he had been freed from a tribute which he had been accustomed to pay to the Aduatuci, his neighbours; and because his own son and the son of his brother had been sent back to him, whom, when sent in the number of hostages, the Aduatuci had detained among them in slavery and in chains; and that he had not done that which he had done in regard to the attacking of the camp, either by his own judgment or desire, but by the compulsion of his state; and that his government was of that nature, that the people had as much of authority over him as he over the people. To the state moreover the occasion of the war was this --that it could not withstand the sudden combination of the Gauls; that he could easily prove this from his own weakness, since he was not so little versed in affairs as to presume that with his forces he could conquer the Roman people; but that it was the common resolution of Gaul; that that day was appointed for the storming of all Caesar's winter-quarters, in order that no legion should be able to come to the relief of another legion, that Gauls could not easily deny Gauls, especially when a measure seemed entered into for recovering their common freedom. Since he had performed his duty to them on the score of patriotism [he said], he has now regard to gratitude for the kindness of Caesar; that he warned, that he prayed Titurius by the claims of hospitality, to consult for his and his soldiers' safety; that a large force of the Germans had been hired and had passed the Rhine; that it would arrive in two days; that it was for them to consider whether they thought fit, before the nearest people perceived it, to lead off their soldiers when drawn out of winter-quarters, either to Cicero or to Labienus; one of whom was about fifty miles distant from them, the other rather more; that this he promised and confirmed by oath, that he would give them a safe passage through his territories; and when he did that, he was both consulting for his own state, because it would be relieved from the winter-quarters, and also making a requital to Caesar for his obligations." XXVIII.--Arpineius and Junius relate to the lieutenants what they had heard. They, greatly alarmed by the unexpected affair, though those things were spoken by an enemy, still thought they were not to be disregarded; and they were especially influenced by this consideration, that it was scarcely credible that the obscure and humble state of the Eburones had dared to make war upon the Roman people of their own accord. Accordingly, they refer the matter to a council, and a, great controversy arises among them. L. Aurunculeius, and several tribunes of the soldiers and the centurions of the first rank, were of opinion "that nothing should be done hastily, and that they should not depart from the camp without Caesar's orders"; they declared, "that any forces of the Germans, however great, might be encountered by fortified winter-quarters; that this fact was a proof [of it]; that they had sustained the first assault of the Germans most valiantly, inflicting many wounds upon them; that they were not distressed for corn; that in the meantime relief would come both from the nearest winter-quarters and from Caesar"; lastly, they put the query, "what could be more undetermined, more undignified, than to adopt measures respecting the most important affairs on the authority of an enemy?" XXIX.--In opposition to those things Titurius exclaimed, "That they would do this too late, when greater forces of the enemy, after a junction with the Germans, should have assembled; or when some disaster had been received in the neighbouring winter-quarters; that the opportunity for deliberating was short; that he believed that Caesar had set forth into Italy, as the Carnutes would not otherwise have taken the measure of slaying Tasgetius, nor would the Eburones, if he had been present, have come to the camp with so great defiance of us; that he did not regard the enemy, but the fact, as the authority; that the Rhine was near; that the death of Ariovistus and our previous victories were subjects of great indignation to the Germans; that Gaul was inflamed, that after having received so many defeats she was reduced under the sway of the Roman people, her pristine glory in military matters being extinguished." Lastly, "who would persuade himself of this, that Ambiorix had resorted to a design of that nature without sure grounds? That his own opinion was safe on either side; if there be nothing very formidable, they would go without danger to the nearest legion; if all Gaul conspired with the Germans, their only safety lay in despatch. What issue would the advice of Cotta and of those who differed from him, have? from which, if immediate danger was not to be dreaded, yet certainly famine, by a protracted siege, was." XXX.--This discussion having been held on the two sides, when opposition was offered strenuously by Cotta and the principal officers, "Prevail," said Sabinus, "if so you wish it"; and he said it with a louder voice, that a great portion of the soldiers might hear him; "nor am I the person among you," he said, "who is most powerfully alarmed by the danger of death; these will be aware of it, and then, if any thing disastrous shall have occurred, they will demand a reckoning at your hands; these, who, if it were permitted by you, united three days hence with the nearest winter-quarters, may encounter the common condition of war with the rest, and not, as if forced away and separated far from the rest, perish either by the sword or by famine." XXXI.--They rise from the council, detain both, and entreat, that "they do not bring the matter into the greatest jeopardy by their dissension and obstinacy; the affair was an easy one, if only they all thought and approved of the same thing, whether they remain or depart; on the other hand, they saw no security in dissension." The matter is prolonged by debate till midnight. At last Cotta, being overruled, yields his assent; the opinion of Sabinus prevails. It is proclaimed that they will march at day-break; the remainder of the night is spent without sleep, since every soldier was inspecting his property, [to see] what he could carry with him, and what, out of the appurtenances of the winter-quarters, he would be compelled to leave; every reason is suggested to show why they could not stay without danger, and how that danger would be increased by the fatigue of the soldiers and their want of sleep. At break of day they quit the camp, in a very extended line and with a very large amount of baggage, in such a manner as men who were convinced that the advice was given by Ambiorix, not as an enemy, but as most friendly [towards them]. XXXII.--But the enemy, after they had made the discovery of their intended departure by the noise during the night and their not retiring to rest, having placed an ambuscade in two divisions in the woods, in a suitable and concealed place, two miles from the camp, waited for the arrival of the Romans; and when the greater part of the line of march had descended into a considerable valley, they suddenly presented themselves on either side of that valley, and began both to harass the rear and hinder the van from ascending, and to give battle in a place exceedingly disadvantageous to our men. XXXIII.--Then at length Titurius, as one who had provided nothing beforehand, was confused, ran to and fro, and set about arranging his troops; these very things, however, he did timidly and in such a manner that all resources seemed to fail him: which generally happens to those who are compelled to take council in the action itself. But Cotta, who had reflected that these things might occur on the march, and on that account had not been an adviser of the departure, was wanting to the common safety in no respect; both in addressing and encouraging the soldiers, he performed the duties of a general, and in the battle those of a soldier. And since they [Titurius and Cotta] could less easily perform everything by themselves, and provide what was to be done in each place, by reason of the length of the line of march, they ordered [the officers] to give the command that they should leave the baggage and form themselves into an orb, which measure, though in a contingency of that nature it was not to be condemned, still turned out unfortunately; for it both diminished the hope of our soldiers and rendered the enemy more eager for the fight, because it appeared that this was not done without the greatest fear and despair. Besides that happened, which would necessarily be the case, that the soldiers for the most part quitted their ensigns and hurried to seek and carry off from the baggage whatever each thought valuable, and all parts were filled with uproar and lamentation. XXXIV.--But judgment was not wanting to the barbarians; for their leaders ordered [the officers] to proclaim through the ranks "that no man should quit his place; that the booty was theirs, and for them was reserved whatever the Romans should leave; therefore let them consider that all things depended on their victory." Our men were equal to them in fighting, both in courage and in number, and though they were deserted by their leader and by fortune, yet they still placed all hope of safety in their valour, and as often as any cohort sallied forth on that side, a great number of the enemy usually fell. Ambiorix, when he observed this, orders the command to be issued that they throw their weapons from a distance and do not approach too near, and in whatever direction the Romans should make an attack, there give way (from the lightness of their appointments and from their daily practice no damage could be done them); [but] pursue them when betaking themselves to their standards again. XXXV.--Which command having been most carefully obeyed, when any cohort had quitted the circle and made a charge, the enemy fled very precipitately. In the meantime, that part of the Roman army, of necessity, was left unprotected, and the weapons received on their open flank. Again, when they had begun to return to that place from which they had advanced, they were surrounded both by those who had retreated and by those who stood next them; but if, on the other hand, they wished to keep their place, neither was an opportunity left for valour, nor could they, being crowded together, escape the weapons cast by so large a body of men. Yet, though assailed by so many disadvantages, [and] having received many wounds, they withstood the enemy, and, a great portion of the day being spent, though they fought from day-break till the eighth hour, they did nothing which was unworthy of them. At length, each thigh of T. Balventius, who the year before had been chief centurion, a brave man and one of great authority, is pierced with a javelin; Q. Lucanius, of the same rank, fighting most valiantly, is slain while he assists his son when surrounded by the enemy; L. Cotta, the lieutenant, when encouraging all the cohorts and companies, is wounded full in the mouth by a sling. XXXVI.--Much troubled by these events, Q. Titurius, when he had perceived Ambiorix in the distance encouraging his men, sends to him his interpreter, Cn. Pompey, to beg that he would spare him and his soldiers. He, when addressed, replied, "If he wished to confer with him, it was permitted; that he hoped what pertained to the safety of the soldiers could be obtained from the people; that to him however certainly no injury would be done, and that he pledged his faith to that effect." He consults with Cotta, who had been wounded, whether it would appear right to retire from battle, and confer with Ambiorix; [saying] that he hoped to be able to succeed respecting his own and the soldiers' safety. Cotta says he will not go to an armed enemy, and in that perseveres. XXXVII.--Sabinus orders those tribunes of the soldiers whom he had at the time around him, and the centurions of the first ranks, to follow him, and when he had approached near to Ambiorix, being ordered to throw down his arms, he obeys the order and commands his men to do the same. In the meantime, while they treat upon the terms, and a longer debate than necessary is designedly entered into by Ambiorix, being surrounded by degrees, he is slain. Then they according to their custom shout out "Victory," and raise their war-cry, and, making an attack on our men, break their ranks. There L. Cotta, while fighting, is slain, together with the greater part of the soldiers; the rest betake themselves to the camp from which they had marched forth, and one of them, L. Petrosidius, the standard bearer, when he was overpowered by the great number of the enemy, threw the eagle within the entrenchments and is himself slain while fighting with the greatest courage before the camp. They with difficulty sustain the attack till night; despairing of safety, they all to a man destroy themselves in the night. A few escaping from the battle, make their way to Labienus at winter-quarters, after wandering at random through the woods, and inform him of these events. XXXVIII.--Elated by this victory, Ambiorix marches immediately with his cavalry to the Aduatuci, who bordered on his kingdom; he halts neither day nor night, and orders the infantry to follow him closely. Having related the exploit and roused the Aduatuci, the next day he arrived among the Nervii, and entreats "that they should not throw away the opportunity of liberating themselves for ever and of punishing the Romans for those wrongs which they had received from them"; [he tells them] "that two lieutenants have been slain, and that a large portion of the army has perished; that it was not a matter of difficulty for the legion which was wintering with Cicero to be cut off, when suddenly assaulted; he declares himself ready to co-operate in that design." He easily gains over the Nervii by this speech. XXXIX.--Accordingly, messengers having been forthwith despatched to the Centrones, the Grudii, the Levaci, the Pleumoxii, and the Geiduni, all of whom are under their government, they assemble as large bodies as they can, and rush unexpectedly to the winter-quarters of Cicero, the report of the death of Titurius not having as yet been conveyed to him. That also occurred to him which was the consequence of a necessary work,--that some soldiers who had gone off into the woods for the purpose of procuring timber and therewith constructing fortifications, were intercepted by the sudden arrival of [the enemy's] horse. These having been entrapped, the Eburones, the Nervii, and the Aduatuci and all their allies and dependants, begin to attack the legion: our men quickly run together to arms and mount the rampart: they sustained the attack that day with great difficulty, since the enemy placed all their hope in despatch, and felt assured that, if they obtained this victory, they would be conquerors for ever. XL.--Letters are immediately sent to Caesar by Cicero, great rewards being offered [to the messengers] if they carried them through. All the passes having been beset, those who were sent are intercepted. During the night as many as 120 towers are raised with incredible despatch out of the timber which they had collected for the purpose of fortification: the things which seemed necessary to the work are completed. The following day the enemy, having collected far greater forces, attack the camp [and] fill up the ditch. Resistance is made by our men in the same manner as the day before: this same thing is done afterwards during the remaining days. The work is carried on incessantly in the night: not even to the sick, or wounded, is opportunity given for rest: whatever things are required for resisting the assault of the next day are provided during the night: many stakes burnt at the end, and a large number of mural pikes are procured: towers are built up, battlements and parapets are formed of interwoven hurdles. Cicero himself, though he was in very weak health, did not leave himself the night-time for repose, so that he was forced to spare himself by the spontaneous movement and entreaties of the soldiers. XLI.--Then these leaders and chiefs of the Nervii, who had any intimacy and grounds of friendship with Cicero, say they desire to confer with him. When permission was granted, they recount the same things which Ambiorix had related to Titurius, namely, "that all Gaul was in arms, that the Germans had passed the Rhine, that the winter-quarters of Caesar and of the others were attacked." They report in addition also, about the death of Sabinus. They point to Ambiorix for the purpose of obtaining credence; "they are mistaken," say they, "if they hoped for any relief from those who distrust their own affairs; that they bear such feelings towards Cicero and the Roman people that they deny them nothing but winter-quarters and are unwilling that this practice should become constant; that through their [the Nervii's] means it is possible for them [the Romans] to depart from their winter-quarters safely and to proceed without fear into whatever parts they desire." To these Cicero made only one reply: "that it is not the custom of the Roman people to accept any condition from an armed enemy: if they are willing to lay down their arms, they may employ him as their advocate and send ambassadors to Caesar: that he believed, from his [Caesar's] justice, they would obtain the things which they might request." XLII.--Disappointed in this hope, the Nervii surround the winter-quarters with a rampart eleven feet high, and a ditch thirteen feet in depth. These military works they had learnt from our men in the intercourse of former years, and, having taken some of our army prisoners, were instructed by them: but, as they had no supply of iron tools which are requisite for this service, they were forced to cut the turf with their swords, and to empty out the earth with their hands and cloaks, from which circumstance the vast number of the men could be inferred; for in less than three hours they completed a fortification of ten miles in circumference; and during the rest of the days they began to prepare and construct towers of the height of the ramparts, and grappling irons, and mantlets, which the same prisoners had taught them. XLIII.--On the seventh day of the attack, a very high wind having sprung up, they began to discharge by their slings hot balls made of burnt or hardened clay, and heated javelins, upon the huts, which, after the Gallic custom, were thatched with straw. These quickly took fire, and by the violence of the wind, scattered their flames in every part of the camp. The enemy following up their success with a very loud shout, as if victory were already obtained and secured, began to advance their towers and mantlets, and climb the rampart with ladders. But so great was the courage of our soldiers, and such their presence of mind, that though they were scorched on all sides, and harassed by a vast number of weapons, and were aware that their baggage and their possessions were burning, not only did no one quit the rampart for the purpose of withdrawing from the scene, but scarcely did any one even then look behind; and they all fought most vigorously and most valiantly. This day was by far the most calamitous to our men; it had this result, however, that on that day the largest number of the enemy was wounded and slain, since they had crowded beneath the very rampart, and the hindmost did not afford the foremost a retreat. The flame having abated a little, and a tower having been brought up in a particular place and touching the rampart, the centurions of the third cohort retired from the place in which they were standing, and drew off all their men: they began to call on the enemy by gestures and by words, to enter if they wished; but none of them dared to advance. Then stones having been cast from every quarter, the enemy were dislodged, and their tower set on fire. XLIV.--In that legion there were two very brave men, centurions, who were now approaching the first ranks, T. Pulfio, and L. Varenus. These used to have continual disputes between them which of them should be preferred, and every year used to contend for promotion with the utmost animosity. When the fight was going on most vigorously before the fortifications, Pulfio, one of them, says, "Why do you hesitate, Varenus? or what [better] opportunity of signalising your valour do you seek? This very day shall decide our disputes." When he had uttered these words, he proceeds beyond the fortifications, and rushes on that part of the enemy which appeared the thickest. Nor does Varenus remain within the rampart, but respecting the high opinion of all, follows close after. Then, when an inconsiderable space intervened, Pulfio throws his javelin at the enemy, and pierces one of the multitude who was running up, and while the latter was wounded and slain, the enemy cover him with their shields, and all throw their weapons at the other and afford him no opportunity of retreating. The shield of Pulfio is pierced and a javelin is fastened in his belt. This circumstance turns aside his scabbard and obstructs his right hand when attempting to draw his sword: the enemy crowd around him when [thus] embarrassed. His rival runs up to him and succours him in this emergency. Immediately the whole host turn from Pulfio to him, supposing the other to be pierced through by the javelin. Varenus rushes on briskly with his sword and carries on the combat hand to hand, and having slain one man, for a short time drove back the rest: while he urges on too eagerly, slipping into a hollow, he fell. To him, in his turn, when surrounded, Pulfio brings relief; and both having slain a great number, retreat into the fortifications amidst the highest applause. Fortune so dealt with both in this rivalry and conflict, that the one competitor was a succour and a safeguard to the other, nor could it be determined which of the two appeared worthy of being preferred to the other. XLV.--In proportion as the attack became daily more formidable and violent, and particularly because, as a great number of the soldiers were exhausted with wounds, the matter had come to a small number of defenders, more frequent letters and messengers were sent to Caesar; a part of which messengers were taken and tortured to death in the sight of our soldiers. There was within our camp a certain Nervian, by name Vertico, born in a distinguished position, who in the beginning of the blockade had deserted to Cicero, and had exhibited his fidelity to him. He persuades his slave, by the hope of freedom, and by great rewards, to convey a letter to Caesar. This he carries out bound about his javelin, and mixing among the Gauls without any suspicion by being a Gaul, he reaches Caesar. From him they received information of the imminent danger of Cicero and the legion. XLVI.--Caesar having received the letter about the eleventh hour of the day, immediately sends a messenger to the Bellovaci, to M. Crassus, questor there, whose winter-quarters were twenty-five miles distant from him. He orders the legion to set forward in the middle of the night and come to him with despatch. Crassus set out with the messenger. He sends anther to C. Fabius, the lieutenant, ordering him to lead forth his legion into the territories of the Atrebates, to which he knew his march must be made. He writes to Labienus to come with his legion to the frontiers of the Nervii, if he could do so to the advantage of the commonwealth: he does not consider that the remaining portion of the army, because it was somewhat farther distant, should be waited for; but assembles about 400 horse from the nearest winter-quarters. XLVII.--Having been apprised of the arrival of Crassus by the scouts at about the third hour, he advances twenty miles that day. He appoints Crassus over Samarobriva and assigns him a legion, because he was leaving there the baggage of the army, the hostages of the states, the public documents, and all the corn, which he had conveyed thither for passing the winter. Fabius, without delaying a moment, meets him on the march with his legion, as he had been commanded. Labienus, having learnt the death of Sabinus and the destruction of the cohorts, as all the forces of the Treviri had come against him, beginning to fear lest, if he made a departure from his winter-quarters, resembling a flight, he should not be able to support the attack of the enemy, particularly since he knew them to be elated by their recent victory, sends back a letter to Caesar, informing him with what great hazard he would lead out his legion from winter-quarters; he relates at large the affair which had taken place among the Eburones; he informs him that all the infantry and cavalry of the Treviri had encamped at a distance of only three miles from his own camp. XLVIII.--Caesar, approving of his motives, although he was disappointed in his expectation of three legions, and reduced to two, yet placed his only hopes of the common safety in despatch. He goes into the territories of the Nervii by long marches. There he learns from some prisoners what things are going on in the camp of Cicero, and in how great jeopardy the affair is. Then with great rewards he induces a certain man of the Gallic horse to convey a letter to Cicero. This he sends written in Greek characters, lest the letter being intercepted, our measures should be discovered by the enemy. He directs him, if he should be unable to enter, to throw his spear with the letter fastened to the thong inside the fortifications of the camp. He writes in the letter, that he having set out with his legions, will quickly be there: he entreats him to maintain his ancient valour. The Gaul apprehending danger, throws his spear as he had been directed. It by chance stuck in a tower, and, not being observed by our men for two days, was seen by a certain soldier on the third day: when taken down, it was carried to Cicero. He, after perusing it, reads it out in an assembly of the soldiers, and fills all with the greatest joy. Then the smoke of the fires was seen in the distance, a circumstance which banished all doubt of the arrival of the legions. XLIX.--The Gauls, having discovered the matter through their scouts, abandon the blockade, and march towards Caesar with all their forces: these were about 60,000 armed men. Cicero, an opportunity being now afforded, again begs of that Vertico, the Gaul, whom we mentioned above, to convey back a letter to Caesar; he advises him to perform his journey warily; he writes in the letter that the enemy had departed and had turned their entire force against him. When this letter was brought to him about the middle of the night, Caesar apprises his soldiers of its contents, and inspires them with courage for fighting: the following day, at the dawn, he moves his camp, and, having proceeded four miles, he espies the forces of the enemy on the other side of a considerable valley and rivulet. It was an affair of great danger to fight with such large forces in a disadvantageous situation. For the present, therefore, inasmuch as he knew that Cicero was released from the blockade, and thought that he might, on that account, relax his speed, he halted there and fortifies a camp in the most favourable position he can. And this, though it was small in itself, [there being] scarcely 7000 men, and these too without baggage, still by the narrowness of the passages, he contracts as much as he can, with this object, that he may come into the greatest contempt with the enemy. In the meanwhile, scouts having been sent in all directions, he examines by what most convenient path he might cross the valley. L.--That day, slight skirmishes of cavalry having taken place near the river, both armies kept in their own positions: the Gauls, because they were awaiting larger forces which had not then arrived; Caesar, [to see] if perchance by pretence of fear he could allure the enemy towards his position, so that he might engage in battle, in front of his camp, on this side of the valley; if he could not accomplish this, that, having inquired about the passes, he might cross the valley and the river with the less hazard. At day-break the cavalry of the enemy approaches to the camp and joins battle with our horse. Caesar orders the horse to give way purposely, and retreat to the camp: at the same time he orders the camp to be fortified with a higher rampart in all directions, the gates to be barricaded, and in executing these things as much confusion to be shown as possible, and to perform them under the pretence of fear. LI.--Induced by all these things the enemy lead over their forces and draw up their line in a disadvantageous position; and as our men also had been led down from the ramparts, they approach nearer, and throw their weapons into the fortification from all sides, and sending heralds round, order it to be proclaimed that, if "any, either Gaul or Roman, was willing to go over to them before the third hour, it was permitted; after that time there would not be permission"; and so much did they disregard our men, that the gates having been blocked up with single rows of turf as a mere appearance, because they did not seem able to burst in that way, some began to pull down the rampart with their hands, others to fill up the trenches. Then Caesar, making a sally from all the gates, and sending out the cavalry, soon puts the enemy to flight, so that no one at all stood his ground with the intention of fighting; and he slew a great number of them, and deprived all of their arms. LII.--Caesar, fearing to pursue them very far, because woods and morasses intervened, and also [because] he saw that they suffered no small loss in abandoning their position, reaches Cicero the same day with all his forces safe. He witnesses with surprise the towers, mantlets, and [other] fortifications belonging to the enemy: the legion having been drawn out, he finds that even every tenth soldier had not escaped without wounds. From all these things he judges with what danger and with what great courage matters had been conducted; he commends Cicero according to his desert and likewise the legion; he addresses individually the centurions and the tribunes of the soldiers, whose valour he had discovered to have been signal. He receives information of the death of Sabinus and Cotta from the prisoners. An assembly being held the following day, he states the occurrence; he consoles and encourages the soldiers; he suggests that the disaster, which had been occasioned by the misconduct and rashness of his lieutenant, should be borne with a patient mind, because by the favour of the immortal gods and their own valour, neither was lasting joy left to the enemy, nor very lasting grief to them. LIII.--In the meanwhile the report respecting the victory of Caesar is conveyed to Labienus through the country of the Remi with incredible speed, so that, though he was about sixty miles distant from the winter-quarter of Cicero, and Caesar had arrived there after the ninth hour, before midnight a shout arose at the gates of the camp, by which shout an indication of the victory and a congratulation on the part of the Remi were given to Labienus. This report having been carried to the Treviri, Indutiormarus, who had resolved to attack the camp of Labienus the following day, flies by night and leads back all his forces into the country of the Treviri. Caesar sends back Fabius with his legion to his winter-quarters; he himself determines to winter with three legions near Samarobriva in three different quarters, and, because such great commotions had arisen in Gaul, he resolved to remain during the whole winter with the army himself. For the disaster respecting the death of Sabinus having been circulated among them, almost all the states of Gaul were deliberating about war, sending messengers and embassies into all quarters, inquiring what further measure they should take, and holding councils by night in secluded places. Nor did any period of the whole winter pass over without fresh anxiety to Caesar, or without his receiving some intelligence respecting the meetings and commotions of the Gauls. Among these, he is informed by L. Roscius, the lieutenant whom he had placed over the thirteenth legion, that large forces of those states of the Gauls, which are called the Armoricae, had assembled for the purpose of attacking him and were not more than eight miles distant; but intelligence respecting the victory of Caesar being carried [to them], had retreated in such a manner that their departure appeared like a flight. LIV.--But Caesar, having summoned to him the principal persons of each state, in one case by alarming them, since he declared that he knew what was going on, and in another case by encouraging them, retained a great part of Gaul in its allegiance. The Senones, however, which is a state eminently powerful and one of great influence among the Gauls, attempting by general design to slay Cavarinus whom Caesar had created king among them (whose brother, Moritasgus, had held the sovereignty at the period of the arrival of Caesar in Gaul, and whose ancestors had also previously held it) when he discovered their plot and fled, pursued him even to the frontiers [of the state], and drove him from his kingdom and his home; and, after having sent ambassadors to Caesar for the purpose of concluding a peace, when he ordered all their senate to come to him, did not obey that command. So far did it operate among those barbarian people, that there were found some to be the first to wage war; and so great a change of inclinations did it produce in all, that except the Aedui and the Remi, whom Caesar had always held in especial honour, the one people for their long standing and uniform fidelity towards the Roman people, the other for their late service in the Gallic war, there was scarcely a state which was not suspected by us. And I do not know whether that ought much to be wondered at, as well for several other reasons, as particularly because they who ranked above all nations for prowess in war, most keenly regretted that they had lost so much of that reputation as to submit to commands from the Roman people. LV.--But the Treviri and Indutiomarus let no part of the entire winter pass without sending ambassadors across the Rhine, importuning the states, promising money, and asserting that, as a large portion of our army had been cut off, a much smaller portion remained. However, none of the German states could be induced to cross the Rhine, since "they had twice essayed it," they said, "in the war with Ariovistus and in the passage of the Tenchtheri there; that fortune was not to be tempted any more." Indutiomarus disappointed in this expectation, nevertheless began to raise troops, and discipline them, and procure horses from the neighbouring people and allure to him by great rewards the outlaws and convicts throughout Gaul. And such great influence had he already acquired for himself in Gaul by these means, that embassies were flocking to him in all directions, and seeking, publicly and privately, his favour and friendship. LVI.--When he perceived that they were coming to him voluntarily; that on the one side the Senones and the Carnutes were stimulated by their consciousness of guilt, on the other side the Nervii and the Aduatuci were preparing war against the Romans, and that forces of volunteers would not be wanting to him if he began to advance from his own territories, he proclaims an armed council (this according to the custom of the Gauls is the commencement of war) at which, by a common law, all the youth were wont to assemble in arms; whoever of them comes last is killed in the sight of the whole assembly after being racked with every torture. In that council he declares Cingetorix, the leader of the other faction, his own son-in-law (whom we have above mentioned, as having embraced the protection of Caesar, and never having deserted him) an enemy and confiscates his property. When these things were finished, he asserts in the council that he, invited by the Senones and the Carnutes, and several other states of Gaul, was about to march thither through the territories of the Remi, devastate their lands, and attack the camp of Labienus: before he does that, he informs them of what he desires to be done. LVII.--Labienus, since he was confining himself within a camp strongly fortified by the nature of the ground and by art, had no apprehensions as to his own and the legion's danger, but was devising that he might throw away no opportunity of conducting the war successfully. Accordingly, the speech of Indutiomarus, which he had delivered in the council, having been made known [to him] by Cingetorix and his allies, he sends messengers to the neighbouring states and summons horse from all quarters: he appoints to them a fixed day for assembling. In the meantime, Indutiomarus, with all his cavalry, nearly every day used to parade close to his [Labienus's] camp; at one time, that he might inform himself of the situation of the camp; at another time, for the purpose of conferring with or of intimidating him. Labienus confined his men within the fortifications and promoted the enemy's belief of his fear by whatever methods he could. LVIII.--Since Indutiomarus was daily advancing up to the camp with greater defiance, all the cavalry of the neighbouring states which he [Labienus] had taken care to have sent for, having been admitted in one night, he confined all his men within the camp by guards with such great strictness, that that fact could by no means be reported or carried to the Treviri. In the meanwhile Indutiomarus, according to his daily practice, advances up to the camp and spends a great part of the day there: his horse cast their weapons, and with very insulting language call out our men to battle. No reply being given by our men, the enemy when they thought proper, depart towards evening in a disorderly and scattered manner, Labienus unexpectedly sends out all the cavalry by two gates; he gives this command and prohibition, that, when the enemy should be terrified and put to flight (which he foresaw would happen, as it did), they should all make for Indutiomarus, and no one wound any man before he should have seen him slain, because he was unwilling that he should escape, in consequence of gaining time by the delay [occasioned by the pursuit] of the rest. He offers great rewards for those who should kill him: he sends up the cohorts as a relief to the horse. The issue justifies the policy of the man, and, since all aimed at one, Indutiomarus is slain, having been overtaken at the very ford of the river, and his head is carried to the camp: the horse, when returning, pursue and slay all whom they can. This affair having been known, all the forces of the Eburones and the Nervii which had assembled, depart; and for a short time after this action, Caesar was less harassed in the government of Gaul. BOOK VI I.--Caesar, expecting for many reasons a greater commotion in Gaul, resolves to hold a levy by the means of M. Silanus, C. Antistius Reginus, and T. Sextius, his lieutenants: at the same time he requested of Cn. Pompey, the proconsul, that since he was remaining near the city invested with military command for the interests of the commonwealth, he would command those men whom when consul he had levied by the military oath in Cisalpine Gaul, to join their respective corps, and to proceed to him; thinking it of great importance, as far as regarded the opinion which the Gauls would entertain for the future, that the resources of Italy should appear so great, that if any loss should be sustained in war, not only could it be repaired in a short time, but likewise be further supplied by still larger forces. And when Pompey had granted this to the interests of the commonwealth and the claims of friendship, Caesar having quickly completed the levy by means of his lieutenants, after three legions had been both formed and brought to him before the winter [had] expired, and the number of those cohorts which he had lost under Q. Titurius had been doubled, taught the Gauls, both by his dispatch and by his forces, what the discipline and the power of the Roman people could accomplish. II.--Indutiomarus having been slain, as we have stated, the government was conferred upon his relatives by the Treviri. They cease not to importune the neighbouring Germans and to promise them money: when they could not obtain [their object] from those nearest them, they try those more remote. Having found some states willing to accede to their wishes, they enter into a compact with them by a mutual oath, and give hostages as a security for the money: they attach Ambiorix to them by an alliance and confederacy. Caesar, on being informed of their acts, since he saw that war was being prepared on all sides, that the Nervii, Aduatuci, and Menapii, with the addition of all the Germans on this side of the Rhine were under arms, that the Senones did not assemble according to his command, and were concerting measures with the Carnutes and the neighbouring states, that the Germans were importuned by the Treviri in frequent embassies, thought that he ought to take measures for the war earlier [than usual]. III.-Accordingly, while the winter was not yet ended, having concentrated the four nearest legions, he marched unexpectedly into the territories of the Nervii, and before they could either assemble, or retreat, after capturing a large number of cattle and of men, and wasting their lands and giving up that booty to the soldiers, compelled them to enter into a surrender and give him hostages. That business having been speedily executed, he again led his legions back into winter-quarters. Having proclaimed a council of Gaul in the beginning of the spring, as he had been accustomed [to do], when the deputies from the rest, except the Senones, the Carnutes, and the Treviri, had come, judging this to be the commencement of war and revolt, that he might appear to consider all things of less consequence [than that war], he transfers the council to Lutetia of the Parisii. These were adjacent to the Senones, and had united their state to them during the memory of their fathers, but were thought to have no part in the present plot. Having proclaimed this from the tribunal, he advances the same day towards the Senones with his legions and arrives among them by long marches. IV.--Acco, who had been the author of that enterprise, on being informed of his arrival, orders the people to assemble in the towns; to them, while attempting this and before it could be accomplished, news is brought that the Romans are close at hand: through necessity they give over their design and send ambassadors to Caesar for the purpose of imploring pardon; they make advances to him through the Aedui, whose state was from ancient times under the protection of Rome. Caesar readily grants them pardon and receives their excuse at the request of the Aedui; because he thought that the summer season was one for an impending war, not for an investigation. Having imposed one hundred hostages, he delivers these to the Aedui to be held in charge by them. To the same place the Carnutes send ambassadors and hostages, employing as their mediators the Remi, under whose protection they were: they receive the same answers. Caesar concludes the council and imposes a levy of cavalry on the states. V.--This part of Gaul having been tranquillized, he applies himself entirely both in mind and soul to the war with the Treviri and Ambiorix. He orders Cavarinus to march with him with the cavalry of the Senones, lest any commotion should arise either out of his hot temper, or out of the hatred of the state which he had incurred. After arranging these things, as he considered it certain that Ambiorix would not contend in battle, he watched his other plans attentively. The Menapii bordered on the territories of the Eburones, and were protected by one continued extent of morasses and woods; and they alone out of Gaul had never sent ambassadors to Caesar on the subject of peace. Caesar knew that a tie of hospitality subsisted between them and Ambiorix: he also discovered that the latter had entered into an alliance with the Germans by means of the Treviri. He thought that these auxiliaries ought to be detached from him before he provoked him to war; lest he, despairing of safety, should either proceed to conceal himself in the territories of the Menapii, or should be driven to coalesce with the Germans beyond the Rhine. Having entered upon this resolution, he sends the baggage of the whole army to Labienus, in the territories of the Treviri and orders two legions to proceed to him: he himself proceeds against the Menapii with five lightly-equipped legions. They, having assembled no troops, as they relied on the defence of their position, retreat into the woods and morasses, and convey thither all their property. VI.--Caesar, having divided his forces with C. Fabius, his lieutenant, and M. Crassus, his questor, and having hastily constructed some bridges, enters their country in three divisions, burns their houses and villages, and gets possession of a large number of cattle and men. Constrained by these circumstances, the Menapii send ambassadors to him for the purpose of suing for peace. He, after receiving hostages, assures them that he will consider them in the number of his enemies if they shall receive within their territories either Ambiorix or his ambassadors. Having determinately settled these things, he left among the Menapii, Commius the Atrebatian with some cavalry as a guard; he himself proceeds toward the Treviri. VII.--While these things are being performed by Caesar, the Treviri, having drawn together large forces of infantry and of cavalry, were preparing to attack Labienus and the legion which was wintering in their territories, and were already not further distant from him than a journey of two days, when they learn that two legions had arrived by the order of Caesar. Having pitched their camp fifteen miles off, they resolve to await the support of the Germans. Labienus, having learned the design of the enemy, hoping that through their rashness there would be some opportunity of engaging, after leaving a guard of five cohorts for the baggage, advances against the enemy with twenty-five cohorts and a large body of cavalry, and, leaving the space of a mile between them, fortifies his camp. There was between Labienus and the enemy a river difficult to cross and with steep banks: this neither did he himself design to cross, nor did he suppose the enemy would cross it. Their hope of auxiliaries was daily increasing. He [Labienus] openly says in a council that "since the Germans are said to be approaching, he would not bring into uncertainty his own and the army's fortunes, and the next day would move his camp at early dawn. These words are quickly carried to the enemy, since out of so large a number of cavalry composed of Gauls, nature compelled some to favour the Gallic interests. Labienus, having assembled the tribunes of the soldiers and principal centurions by night, states what his design is, and, that he may the more easily give the enemy a belief of his fears, he orders the camp to be moved with greater noise and confusion than was usual with the Roman people. By these means he makes his departure [appear], like a retreat. These things, also, since the camps were so near, are reported to the enemy by scouts before daylight. VIII.--Scarcely had the rear advanced beyond the fortifications when the Gauls, encouraging one another "not to cast from their hands the anticipated booty, that it was a tedious thing, while the Romans were panic stricken, to be waiting for the aid of the Germans, and that their dignity did not suffer them to fear to attack with such great forces so small a band, particularly when retreating and encumbered," do not hesitate to cross the river and give battle in a disadvantageous position. Labienus suspecting that these things would happen, was proceeding quietly, and using the same pretence of a march, in order that he might entice them across the river. Then, having sent forward the baggage some short distance and placed it on a certain eminence, he says, "Soldiers, you have the opportunity you have sought: you hold the enemy in an encumbered and disadvantageous position: display to us your leaders the same valour you have ofttimes displayed to your general: imagine that he is present and actually sees these exploits." At the same time he orders the troops to face about towards the enemy and form in line of battle, and, despatching a few troops of cavalry as a guard for the bag gage, he places the rest of the horse on the wings. Our men, raising a shout, quickly throw their javelins at the enemy. They, when, contrary to their expectation, they saw those whom they believed to be retreating, advance towards them with threatening banners, were not able to sustain even the charge, and, being put to flight at the first onslaught, sought the nearest woods: Labienus pursuing them with the cavalry, upon a large number being slain, and several taken prisoners, got possession of the state a few days after; for the Germans who were coming to the aid of the Treviri, having been informed of their flight, retreated to their homes. The relations of Indutiomarus, who had been the promoters of the revolt, accompanying them, quitted their own state with them. The supreme power and government were delivered to Cingetorix, whom we have stated to have remained firm in his allegiance from the commencement. IX.--Caesar, after he came from the territories of the Menapii into those of the Treviri, resolved for two reasons to cross the Rhine; one of which was, because they had sent assistance to the Treviri against him; the other, that Ambiorix might not have a retreat among them. Having determined on these matters, he began to build a bridge a little above that place, at which he had before conveyed over his army. The plan having been known and laid down, the work is accomplished in a few days by the great exertion of the soldiers. Having left a strong guard at the bridge on the side of the Treviri, lest any commotion should suddenly arise among them, he leads over the rest of the forces and the cavalry. The Ubii, who before had sent hostages and come to a capitulation, send ambassadors to him, for the purpose of vindicating themselves, to assure him that "neither had auxiliaries been sent to the Treviri from their state, nor had they violated their allegiance"; they entreat and beseech him "to spare them, lest, in his common hatred of the Germans, the innocent should suffer the penalty of the guilty: they promise to give more hostages, if he desire them." Having investigated the case, Caesar finds that the auxiliaries had been sent by the Suevi; he accepts the apology of the Ubii, and makes minute inquiries concerning the approaches and the routes to the territories of the Suevi. X.--In the meanwhile he is informed by the Ubii, a few days after, that the Suevi are drawing all their forces into one place, and are giving orders to those nations which are under their government to send auxiliaries of infantry and of cavalry. Having learned these things, he provides a supply of corn, selects a proper place for his camp, and commands the Ubii to drive off their cattle and carry away all their possessions from the country parts into the towns, hoping that they, being a barbarous and ignorant people, when harassed by the want of provisions, might be brought to an engagement on disadvantageous terms: he orders them to send numerous scouts among the Suevi, and learn what things are going on among them. They execute the orders, and, a few days having intervened, report that all the Suevi, after certain intelligence concerning the army of the Romans had come, retreated with all their own forces and those of their allies, which they had assembled, to the utmost extremities of their territories: that there is a wood there of very great extent, which is called Bacenis; that this stretches a great way into the interior, and, being opposed as a natural barrier, defends from injuries and incursions the Cherusci against the Suevi, and the Suevi against the Cherusci: that at the entrance of that forest the Suevi had determined to await the coming up of the Romans. XI.--Since we have come to this place, it does not appear to be foreign to our subject to lay before the reader an account of the manners of Gaul and Germany, and wherein these nations differ from each other. In Gaul there are factions not only in all the states, and in all the cantons and their divisions, but almost in each family, and of these factions those are the leaders who are considered according to their judgment to possess the greatest influence, upon whose will and determination the management of all affairs and measures depends. And that seems to have been instituted in ancient times with this view, that no one of the common people should be in want of support against one more powerful; for none [of those leaders] suffers his party to be oppressed and defrauded, and if he do otherwise, he has no influence among his party. This same policy exists throughout the whole of Gaul; for all the states are divided into two factions. XII.--When Caesar arrived in Gaul, the Aedui were the leaders of one faction, the Sequani of the other. Since the latter were less powerful by themselves, inasmuch as the chief influence was from of old among the Aedui, and their dependencies were great, they had united to themselves the Germans and Ariovistus, and had brought them over to their party by great sacrifices and promises. And having fought several successful battles and slain all the nobility of the Aedui, they had so far surpassed them in power, that they brought over, from the Aedui to themselves, a large portion of their dependants and received from them the sons of their leading men as hostages, and compelled them to swear in their public character that they would enter into no design against them; and held a portion of the neighbouring land, seized on by force, and possessed the sovereignty of the whole of Gaul. Divitiacus urged by this necessity, had proceeded to Rome to the senate, for the purpose of entreating assistance, and had returned without accomplishing his object. A change of affairs ensued on the arrival of Caesar, the hostages were returned to the Aedui, their old dependencies restored, and new acquired through Caesar (because those who had attached themselves to their alliance saw that they enjoyed a better state and a milder government), their other interests, their influence, their reputation were likewise increased, and in consequence, the Sequani lost the sovereignty. The Remi succeeded to their place, and, as it was perceived that they equalled the Aedui in favour with Caesar, those, who on account of their old animosities could by no means coalesce with the Aedui, consigned themselves in clientship to the Remi. The latter carefully protected them. Thus they possessed both a new and suddenly acquired influence. Affairs were then in that position, that the Aedui were considered by far the leading people, and the Remi held the second post of honour. XIII.--Throughout all Gaul there are two orders of those men who are of any rank and dignity: for the commonality is held almost in the condition of slaves, and dares to undertake nothing of itself and is admitted to no deliberation. The greater part, when they are pressed either by debt, or the large amount of their tributes, or the oppression of the more powerful, give themselves up in vassalage to the nobles, who possess over them the same rights without exception as masters over their slaves. But of these two orders, one is that of the Druids, the other that of the knights. The former are engaged in things sacred, conduct the public and the private sacrifices, and interpret all matters of religion. To these a large number of the young men resort for the purpose of instruction, and they [the Druids] are in great honour among them. For they determine respecting almost all controversies, public and private; and if any crime has been perpetrated, if murder has been committed, if there be any dispute about an inheritance, if any about boundaries, these same persons decide it; they decree rewards and punishments if any one, either in a private or public capacity, has not submitted to their decision, they interdict him from the sacrifices. This among them is the most heavy punishment. Those who have been thus interdicted are esteemed in the number of the impious and the criminal: all shun them, and avoid their society and conversation, lest they receive some evil from their contact; nor is justice administered to them when seeking it, nor is any dignity bestowed on them. Over all these Druids one presides, who possesses supreme authority among them. Upon his death, if any individual among the rest is pre-eminent in dignity, he succeeds; but, if there are many equal, the election is made by the suffrages of the Druids; sometimes they even contend for the presidency with arms. These assemble at a fixed period of the year in a consecrated place in the territories of the Carnutes, which is reckoned the central region of the whole of Gaul. Hither all, who have disputes, assemble from every part, and submit to their decrees and determinations. This institution is supposed to have been devised in Britain, and to have been brought over from it into Gaul; and now those who desire to gain a more accurate knowledge of that system generally proceed thither for the purpose of studying it. XIV.--The Druids do not go to war, nor pay tribute together with the rest; they have an exemption from military service and a dispensation in all matters. Induced by such great advantages, many embrace this profession of their own accord, and [many] are sent to it by their parents and relations. They are said there to learn by heart a great number of verses; accordingly some remain in the course of training twenty years. Nor do they regard it lawful to commit these to writing, though in almost all other matters, in their public and private transactions, they use Greek characters. That practice they seem to me to have adopted for two reasons; because they neither desire their doctrines to be divulged among the mass of the people, nor those who learn, to devote themselves the less to the efforts of memory, relying on writing; since it generally occurs to most men, that, in their dependence on writing, they relax their diligence in learning thoroughly, and their employment of the memory. They wish to inculcate this as one of their leading tenets, that souls do not become extinct, but pass after death from one body to another, and they think that men by this tenet are in a great degree excited to valour, the fear of death being disregarded. They likewise discuss and impart to the youth many things respecting the stars and their motion, respecting the extent of the world and of our earth, respecting the nature of things, respecting the power and the majesty of the immortal gods. XV.--The other order is that of the knights. These, when there is occasion and any war occurs (which before Caesar's arrival was for the most part wont to happen every year, as either they on their part were inflicting injuries or repelling those which others inflicted on them), are all engaged in war. And those of them most distinguished by birth and resources, have the greatest number of vassals and dependants about them. They acknowledge this sort of influence and power only. XVI.--The nation of all the Gauls is extremely devoted to superstitious rites; and on that account they who are troubled with unusually severe diseases and they who are engaged in battles and dangers, either sacrifice men as victims, or vow that they will sacrifice them, and employ the Druids as the performers of those sacrifices; because they think that unless the life of a man be offered for the life of a man, the mind of the immortal gods cannot be rendered propitious, and they have sacrifices of that kind ordained for national purposes. Others have figures of vast size, the limbs of which formed of osiers they fill with living men, which being set on fire, the men perish enveloped in the flames. They consider that the oblation of such as have been taken in theft, or in robbery, or any other offence, is more acceptable to the immortal gods; but when a supply of that class is wanting, they have recourse to the oblation of even the innocent. XVII.--They worship as their divinity, Mercury in particular, and have many images of him, and regard him as the inventor of all arts, they consider him, the guide of their journeys and marches, and believe him to have very great influence over the acquisition of gain and mercantile transactions. Next to him they worship Apollo, and Mars, and Jupiter, and Minerva; respecting these deities they have for the most part the same belief as other nations: that Apollo averts diseases, that Minerva imparts the invention of manufactures, that Jupiter possesses the sovereignty of the heavenly powers; that Mars presides over wars. To him when they have determined to engage in battle, they commonly vow those things they shall take in war. When they have conquered, they sacrifice whatever captured animals may have survived the conflict, and collect the other things into one place. In many states you may see piles of these things heaped up in their consecrated spots; nor does it often happen that any one, disregarding the sanctity of the case, dares either to secrete in his house things captured, or take away those deposited; and the most severe punishment, with torture, has been established for such a deed. XVIII.--All the Gauls assert that they are descended from the god Dis, and say that this tradition has been handed down by the Druids. For that reason they compute the divisions of every season, not by the number of days, but of nights; they keep birthdays and the beginnings of months and years in such an order that the day follows the night. Among the other usages of their life, they differ in this from almost all other nations, that they do not permit their children to approach them openly until they are grown up so as to be able to bear the service of war; and they regard it as indecorous for a son of boyish age to stand in public in the presence of his father. XIX.--Whatever sums of money the husbands have received in the name of dowry from their wives, making an estimate of it, they add the same amount out of their own estates. An account is kept of all this money conjointly, and the profits are laid by: whichever of them shall have survived [the other], to that one the portion of both reverts, together with the profits of the previous time. Husbands have power of life and death over their wives as well as over their children: and when the father of a family, born in a more than commonly distinguished rank, has died, his relations assemble, and, if the circumstances of his death are suspicious, hold an investigation upon the wives in the manner adopted towards slaves; and if proof be obtained, put them to severe torture, and kill them. Their funerals, considering the state of civilization among the Gauls, are magnificent and costly; and they cast into the fire all things, including living creatures, which they suppose to have been dear to them when alive; and, a little before this period, slaves and dependants, who were ascertained to have been beloved by them, were, after the regular funeral rites were completed, burnt together with them. XX.--Those states which are considered to conduct their commonwealth more judiciously, have it ordained by their laws, that, if any person shall have heard by rumour and report from his neighbours anything concerning the commonwealth, he shall convey it to the magistrate and not impart it to any other; because it has been discovered that inconsiderate and inexperienced men were often alarmed by false reports and driven to some rash act, or else took hasty measures in affairs of the highest importance. The magistrates conceal those things which require to be kept unknown; and they disclose to the people whatever they determine to be expedient. It is not lawful to speak of the commonwealth, except in council. XXI.--The Germans differ much from these usages, for they have neither Druids to preside over sacred offices, nor do they pay great regard to sacrifices. They rank in the number of the gods those alone whom they behold, and by whose instrumentality they are obviously benefited, namely, the sun, fire, and the moon; they have not heard of the other deities even by report. Their whole life is occupied in hunting and in the pursuits of the military art; from childhood they devote themselves to fatigue and hardships. Those who have remained chaste for the longest time, receive the greatest commendation among their people: they think that by this the growth is promoted, by this the physical powers are increased and the sinews are strengthened. And to have had knowledge of a woman before the twentieth year they reckon among the most disgraceful acts; of which matter there is no concealment, because they bathe promiscuously in the rivers and [only] use skins or small cloaks of deers' hides, a large portion of the body being in consequence naked. XXII.--They do not pay much attention to agriculture, and a large portion of their food consists in milk, cheese, and flesh; nor has any one a fixed quantity of land or his own individual limits; but the magistrates and the leading men each year apportion to the tribes and families, who have united together, as much land as, and in the place in which, they think proper, and the year after compel them to remove elsewhere. For this enactment they advance many reasons--lest seduced by long-continued custom, they may exchange their ardour in the waging of war for agriculture; lest they may be anxious to acquire extensive estates, and the more powerful drive the weaker from their possessions; lest they construct their houses with too great a desire to avoid cold and heat; lest the desire of wealth spring up, from which cause divisions and discords arise; and that they may keep the common people in a contented state of mind, when each sees his own means placed on an equality with [those of] the most powerful. XXIII.--It is the greatest glory to the several states to have as wide deserts as possible around them, their frontiers having been laid waste. They consider this the real evidence of their prowess, that their neighbours shall be driven out of their lands and abandon them, and that no one dare settle near them; at the same time they think that they shall be on that account the more secure, because they have removed the apprehension of a sudden incursion. When a state either repels war waged against it, or wages it against another, magistrates are chosen to preside over that war with such authority, that they have power of life and death. In peace there is no common magistrate, but the chiefs of provinces and cantons administer justice and determine controversies among their own people. Robberies which are committed beyond the boundaries of each state bear no infamy, and they avow that these are committed for the purpose of disciplining their youth and of preventing sloth. And when any of their chiefs has said in an assembly "that he will be their leader, let those who are willing to follow, give in their names"; they who approve of both the enterprise and the man arise and promise their assistance and are applauded by the people; such of them as have not followed him are accounted in the number of deserters and traitors, and confidence in all matters is afterwards refused them. To injure guests they regard as impious; they defend from wrong those who have come to them for any purpose whatever, and esteem them inviolable; to them the houses of all are open and maintenance is freely supplied. XXIV.--And there was formerly a time when the Gauls excelled the Germans in prowess, and waged war on them offensively, and, on account of the great number of their people and the insufficiency of their land, sent colonies over the Rhine. Accordingly, the Volcae Tectosages seized on those parts of Germany which are the most fruitful [and lie] around the Hercynian forest (which, I perceive, was known by report to Eratosthenes and some other Greeks, and which they call Orcynia) and settled there. Which nation to this time retains its position in those settlements, and has a very high character for justice and military merit: now also they continue in the same scarcity, indigence, hardihood, as the Germans, and use the same food and dress; but their proximity to the Province and knowledge of commodities from countries beyond the sea supplies to the Gauls many things tending to luxury as well as civilization. Accustomed by degrees to be overmatched and worsted in many engagements, they do not even compare themselves to the Germans in prowess. XXV.--The breadth of this Hercynian forest, which has been referred to above, is to a quick traveller, a journey of nine days. For it cannot be otherwise computed, nor are they acquainted with the measures of roads. It begins at the frontiers of the Helvetii, Nemetes, and Rauraci, and extends in a right line along the river Danube to the territories of the Daci and the Anartes: it bends thence to the left in a different direction from the river, and owing to its extent touches the confines of many nations; nor is there any person belonging to this part of Germany who says that he either has gone to the extremity of that forest, though he had advanced a journey of sixty days, or has heard in what place it begins. It is certain that many kinds of wild beasts are produced in it which have not been seen in other parts; of which the following are such as differ principally from other animals, and appear worthy of being committed to record. XXVI.--There is an ox of the shape of a stag, between whose ears a horn rises from the middle of the forehead, higher and straighter than those horns which are known to us. From the top of this, branches, like palms; stretch out a considerable distance. The shape of the female and of the male is the same; the appearance and the size of the horns is the same. XXVII.--There are also [animals] which are called elks. The shape of these, and the varied colour of their skins, is much like roes, but in size they surpass them a little and are destitute of horns, and have legs without joints and ligatures; nor do they lie down for the purpose of rest, nor, if they have been thrown down by any accident, can they raise or lift themselves up. Trees serve as beds to them; they lean themselves against them, and thus reclining only slightly, they take their rest; when the huntsmen have discovered from the footsteps of these animals whither they are accustomed to betake themselves, they either undermine all the trees at the roots, or cut into them so far that the upper part of the trees may appear to be left standing. When they have leant upon them, according to their habit, they knock down by their weight the unsupported trees, and fall down themselves along with them. XXVIII.-There is a third kind, consisting of those animals which are called uri. These are a little below the elephant in size, and of the appearance, colour, and shape of a bull. Their strength and speed are extraordinary; they spare neither man nor wild beast which they have espied. These the Germans take with much pains in pits and kill them. The young men harden themselves with this exercise, and practice themselves in this kind of hunting, and those who have slain the greatest number of them, having produced the horns in public, to serve as evidence, receive great praise. But not even when taken very young can they be rendered familiar to men and tamed. The size, shape, and appearance of their horns differ much from the horns of our oxen. These they anxiously seek after, and bind at the tips with silver, and use as cups at their most sumptuous entertainments. XXIX.--Caesar, after he discovered through the Ubian scouts that the Suevi had retired into their woods, apprehending a scarcity of corn, because, as we have observed above, all the Germans pay very little attention to agriculture, resolved not to proceed any farther; but, that he might not altogether relieve the barbarians from the fear of his return, and that he might delay their succours, having led back his army, he breaks down, to the length of 200 feet, the farther end of the bridge, which joined the banks of the Ubii, and, at the extremity of the bridge raises towers of four stories, and stations a guard of twelve cohorts for the purpose of defending the bridge, and strengthens the place with considerable fortifications. Over that fort and guard he appointed C. Volcatius Tullus, a young man; he himself, when the corn began to ripen, having set forth for the war with 40 Ambiorix (through the forest Arduenna, which is the largest of all Gaul, and reaches from the banks of the Rhine and the frontiers of the Treviri to those of the Nervii, and extends over more than 500 miles), he sends forward L. Minucius Basilus with all the cavalry, to try if he might gain any advantage by rapid marches and the advantage of time, he warns him to forbid fires being made in the camp, lest any indication of his approach be given at a distance: he tells him that he will follow immediately. XXX.--Basilus does as he was commanded; having performed his march rapidly, and even surpassed the expectations of all, he surprises in the fields many not expecting him; through their information he advances towards Ambiorix himself, to the place in which he was said to be with a few horse. Fortune accomplishes much, not only in other matters, but also in the art of war. For as it happened by a remarkable chance, that he fell upon [Ambiorix] himself unguarded and unprepared, and that his arrival was seen by the people before the report or information of his arrival was carried thither; so it was an incident of extraordinary fortune that, although every implement of war which he was accustomed to have about him was seized, and his chariots and horses surprised, yet he himself escaped death. But it was effected owing to this circumstance, that his house being surrounded by a wood, (as are generally the dwellings of the Gauls, who, for the purpose of avoiding heat, mostly seek the neighbourhood of woods and rivers) his attendants and friends in a narrow spot sustained for a short time the attack of our horse. While they were fighting, one of his followers mounted him on a horse: the woods sheltered him as he fled. Thus fortune tended much both towards his encountering and his escaping danger. XXXI.--Whether Ambiorix did not collect his forces from cool deliberation, because he considered he ought not to engage in a battle, or [whether] he was debarred by time and prevented by the sudden arrival of our horse, when he supposed the rest of the army was closely following, is doubtful; but certainly, despatching messengers through the country, he ordered every one to provide for himself; and a part of them fled into the forest Arduenna, a part into the extensive morasses; those who were nearest the ocean, concealed themselves in the islands which the tides usually form; many, departing from their territories, committed themselves and all their possessions to perfect strangers. Cativolcus, king of one-half of the Eburones, who had entered into the design together with Ambiorix, since, being now worn out by age, he was unable to endure the fatigue either of war or flight, having cursed Ambiorix with every imprecation, as the person who had been the contriver of that measure, destroyed himself with the juice of the yew tree, of which there is a great abundance in Gaul and Germany. XXXII.--The Segui and Condrusi, of the nation and number of the Germans, and who are between the Eburones and the Treviri, sent ambassadors to Caesar to entreat that he would not regard them in the number of his enemies, nor consider that the cause of all the Germans on this side the Rhine was one and the same; that they had formed no plans of war, and had sent no auxiliaries to Ambiorix. Caesar, having ascertained this fact by an examination of his prisoners commanded that if any of the Eburones in their flight had repaired to them, they should be sent back to him; he assures them that if they did that, he will not injure their territories. Then, having divided his forces into three parts, he sent the baggage of all the legions to Aduatuca. That is the name of a fort. This is nearly in the middle of the Eburones, where Titurius and Aurunculeius had been quartered for the purpose of wintering. This place he selected as well on other accounts as because the fortifications of the previous year remained, in order that he might relieve the labour of the soldiers. He left the fourteenth legion as a guard for the baggage, one of those three which he had lately raised in Italy and brought over. Over that legion and camp he places Q. Tullius Cicero and gives him 200 horse. XXXIII.--Having divided the army, he orders T. Labienus to proceed with three legions towards the ocean into those parts which border on the Menappii; he sends C. Trebonius with a like number of legions to lay waste that district which lies contiguous to the Aduatuci; he himself determines to go with the remaining three to the river Sambre, which flows into the Meuse, and to the most remote parts of Arduenna, whither he heard that Ambiorix had gone with a few horse. When departing, he promises that he will return before the end of the seventh day, on which day he was aware corn was due to that legion which was being left in garrison. He directs Labienus and Trebonius to return by the same day, if they can do so agreeably to the interests of the republic; so that their measures having been mutually imparted, and the plans of the enemy having been discovered, they might be able to commence a different line of operations. XXXIV.--There was, as we have above observed, no regular army, nor a town, nor a garrison which could defend itself by arms; but the people were scattered in all directions. Where either a hidden valley, or a woody spot, or a difficult morass furnished any hope of protection or of security to any one, there he had fixed himself. These places were known to those that dwelt in the neighbourhood, and the matter demanded great attention, not so much in protecting the main body of the army (for no peril could occur to them altogether from those alarmed and scattered troops), as in preserving individual soldiers; which in some measure tended to the safety of the army. For both the desire of booty was leading many too far, and the woods with their unknown and hidden routes would not allow them to go in large bodies. If he desired the business to be completed and the race of those infamous people to be cut off, more bodies of men must be sent in several directions and the soldiers must be detached on all sides; if he were disposed to keep the companies at their standards, as the established discipline and practice of the Roman army required, the situation itself was a safeguard to the barbarians, nor was there wanting to individuals the daring to lay secret ambuscades and beset scattered soldiers. But amidst difficulties of this nature as far as precautions could be taken by vigilance, such precautions were taken; so that some opportunities of injuring the enemy were neglected, though the minds of all were burning to take revenge, rather than that injury should be effected with any loss to our soldiers. Caesar despatches messengers to the neighbouring states; by the hope of booty he invites all to him, for the purpose of plundering the Eburones, in order that the life of the Gauls might be hazarded in the woods rather than the legionary soldiers; at the same time, in order that a large force being drawn around them, the race and name of that state may be annihilated for such a crime. A large number from all quarters speedily assembles. XXXV.--These things were going on in all parts of the territories of the Eburones, and the seventh day was drawing near, by which day Caesar had purposed to return to the baggage and the legion. Here it might be learned how much fortune achieves in war, and how great casualties she produces. The enemy having been scattered and alarmed, as we related above, there was no force which might produce even a slight occasion of fear. The report extends beyond the Rhine to the Germans that the Eburones are being pillaged, and that all were without distinction invited to the plunder. The Sigambri, who are nearest to the Rhine, by whom, we have mentioned above, the Tenchtheri and Usipetes were received after their retreat, collect 2000 horse; they cross the Rhine in ships and barks thirty miles below that place where the bridge was entire and the garrison left by Caesar; they arrive at the frontiers of the Eburones, surprise many who were scattered in flight, and get possession of a large amount of cattle, of which barbarians are extremely covetous. Allured by booty, they advance farther; neither morass nor forest obstructs these men, born amidst war and depredations; they inquire of their prisoners in what parts Caesar is; they find that he has advanced farther, and learn that all the army has removed. Thereon one of the prisoners says, "Why do you pursue such wretched and trifling spoil; you, to whom it is granted to become even now most richly endowed by fortune? In three hours you can reach Aduatuca; there the Roman army has deposited all its fortunes; there is so little of a garrison that not even the wall can be manned, nor dare any one go beyond the fortifications." A hope having been presented them, the Germans leave in concealment the plunder they had acquired; they themselves hasten to Aduatuca, employing as their guide the same man by whose information they had become informed of these things. XXXVI.--Cicero, who during all the foregoing days had kept his soldiers in camp with the greatest exactness, and agreeably to the injunctions of Caesar, had not permitted even any of the camp-followers to go beyond the fortification, distrusting on the seventh day that Caesar would keep his promise as to the number of days, because he heard that he had proceeded farther, and no report as to his return was brought to him, and being urged at the same time by the expressions of those who called his tolerance almost a siege, if, forsooth, it was not permitted them to go out of the camp, since he might expect no disaster, whereby he could be injured, within three miles of the camp, while nine legions and all the cavalry were under arms, and the enemy scattered and almost annihilated, sent five cohorts into the neighbouring cornlands, between which and the camp only one hill intervened, for the purpose of foraging. Many soldiers of the legions had been left invalided in the camp, of whom those who had recovered in this space of time, being about 300, are set together under one standard; a large number of soldiers' attendants besides, with a great number of beasts of burden, which had remained in the camp, permission being granted, follow them. XXXVII.--At this very time, the German horse by chance come up, and immediately, with the same speed with which they had advanced, attempt to force the camp at the Decuman gate, nor were they seen, in consequence of woods lying in the way on that side, before they were just reaching the camp: so much so, that the sutlers who had their booths under the rampart had not an opportunity of retreating within the camp. Our men, not anticipating it, are perplexed by the sudden affair, and the cohort on the outpost scarcely sustains the first attack. The enemy spread themselves on the other sides to ascertain if they could find any access. Our men with difficulty defend the gates; the very position of itself and the fortification secures the other accesses. There is a panic in the entire camp, and one inquires of another the cause of the confusion, nor do they readily determine whither the standards should be borne, nor into what quarter each should betake himself. One avows that the camp is already taken, another maintains that, the enemy having destroyed the army and commander-in-chief, are come thither as conquerors; most form strange superstitious fancies from the spot, and place before their eyes the catastrophe of Cotta and Titurius, who had fallen in the same fort. All being greatly disconcerted by this alarm, the belief of the barbarians is strengthened that there is no garrison within, as they had heard from their prisoner. They endeavour to force an entrance and encourage one another not to cast from their hands so valuable a prize. XXXVIII.-P. Sextius Baculus, who had led a principal century under Caesar (of whom we have made mention in previous engagements), had been left an invalid in the garrison, and had now been five days without food. He, distrusting his own safety and that of all, goes forth from his tent unarmed; he sees that the enemy are close at hand and that the matter is in the utmost danger; he snatches arms from those nearest, and stations himself at the gate. The centurions of that cohort which was on guard follow him; for a short time they sustain the fight together. Sextius faints, after receiving many wounds; he is with difficulty saved, drawn away by the hands of the soldiers. This space having intervened, the others resume courage, so far as to venture to take their place on the fortifications and present the aspect of defenders. XXXIX.--The foraging having in the meantime been completed, our soldiers distinctly hear the shout; the horse hasten on before and discover in what danger the affair is. But here there is no fortification to receive them, in their alarm: those last enlisted and unskilled in military discipline turn their faces to the military tribune and the centurions; they wait to find what orders may be given by them. No one is so courageous as not to be disconcerted by the suddenness of the affair. The barbarians, espying our standard in the distance, desist from the attack; at first they suppose that the legions, which they had learned from their prisoners had removed farther off, had returned; afterwards, despising their small number, they make an attack on them at all sides. XL.-The camp-followers run forward to the nearest rising ground; being speedily driven from this they throw themselves among the standards and companies: they thus so much the more alarm the soldiers already affrighted. Some propose that, forming a wedge, they suddenly break through, since the camp was so near; and if any part should be surrounded and slain, they fully trust that at least the rest may be saved; others, that they take their stand on an eminence, and all undergo the same destiny. The veteran soldiers, whom we stated to have set out together [with the others] under a standard, do not approve of this. Therefore encouraging each other, under the conduct of Caius Trebonius, a Roman knight, who had been appointed over them, they break through the midst of the enemy, and arrive in the camp safe to a man. The camp-attendants and the horse following close upon them with the same impetuosity, are saved by the courage of the soldiers. But those who had taken their stand upon the eminence having even now acquired no experience of military matters, neither could persevere in that resolution which they approved of, namely, to defend themselves from their higher position, nor imitate that vigour and speed which they had observed to have availed others; but, attempting to reach the camp, had descended into an unfavourable situation. The Centurions, some of whom had been promoted for their valour from the lower ranks of other legions to higher ranks in this legion, in order that they might not forfeit their glory for military exploits previously acquired, fell together fighting most valiantly. The enemy having been dislodged by their valour, a part of the soldiers arrived safe in camp contrary to their expectations; a part perished, surrounded by the barbarians. XLI.--The Germans, despairing of taking the camp by storm, because they saw that our men had taken up their position on the fortifications, retreated beyond the Rhine with that plunder which they had deposited in the woods. And so great was the alarm, even after the departure of the enemy, that when C. Volusenus, who had been sent with the cavalry, arrived that night, he could not gain credence that Caesar was close at hand with his army safe. Fear had so pre-occupied the minds of all, that, their reason being almost estranged, they said that all the other forces having been cut off, the cavalry alone had arrived there by flight, and asserted that, if the army were safe, the Germans would not have attacked the camp: which fear the arrival of Caesar removed. XLII.--He, on his return, being well aware of the casualties of war, complained of one thing [only], namely, that the cohorts had been sent away from the outposts and garrison [duty], and pointed out that room ought not to have been left for even the most trivial casualty; that fortune had exercised great influence in the sudden arrival of their enemy; much greater, in that she had turned the barbarians away from the very rampart and gates of the camp. Of all which events, it seemed the most surprising that the Germans, who had crossed the Rhine with this object, that they might plunder the territories of Ambiorix, being led to the camp of the Romans, rendered Ambiorix a most acceptable service. XLIII.--Caesar, having again marched to harass the enemy, after collecting a large number [of auxiliaries] from the neighbouring states, despatches them in all directions. All the villages and all the buildings, which each beheld, were on fire: spoil was being driven off from all parts; the corn not only was being consumed by so great numbers of cattle and men, but also had fallen to the earth, owing to the time of the year and the storms; so that if any had concealed themselves for the present, still, it appeared likely that they must perish through want of all things, when the army should be drawn off. And frequently it came to that point, as so large a body of cavalry had been sent abroad in all directions, that the prisoners declared Ambiorix had just then been seen by them in flight, and had not even passed out of sight, so that the hope of overtaking him being raised, and unbounded exertions having been resorted to, those who thought they should acquire the highest favour with Caesar, nearly overcame nature by their ardour, and continually a little only seemed wanting to complete success; but he rescued himself by [means of] lurking-places and forests, and, concealed by the night, made for other districts and quarters, with no greater guard than that of four horsemen, to whom alone he ventured to confide his life. XLIV.--Having devastated the country in such a manner, Caesar leads back his army with the loss of two cohorts to Durocortorum of the Remi, and, having summoned a council of Gaul to assemble at that place, he resolved to hold an investigation respecting the conspiracy of the Senones and Carnutes, and having pronounced a most severe sentence upon Acco, who had been the contriver of that plot, he punished him after the custom of our ancestors. Some fearing a trial, fled; when he had forbidden these fire and water, he stationed in winter quarters two legions at the frontiers of the Treviri, two among the Lingones, the remaining six at Agendicum, in the territories of the Senones; and, having provided corn for the army, he set out for Italy, as he had determined, to hold the assizes. BOOK VII I.--Gaul being tranquil, Caesar, as he had determined, sets out for Italy to hold the provincial assizes. There he receives intelligence of the death of Clodius; and, being informed of the decree of the senate [to the effect] that all the youth of Italy should take the military oath, he determined to hold a levy throughout the entire province. Report of these events is rapidly borne into Transalpine Gaul. The Gauls themselves add to the report, and invent what the case seemed to require, [namely] that Caesar was detained by commotions in the city, and could not, amidst so violent dissensions, come to his army. Animated by this opportunity, they who already, previously to this occurrence, were indignant that they were reduced beneath the dominion of Rome, begin to organize their plans for war more openly and daringly. The leading men of Gaul, having convened councils among themselves in the woods, and retired places, complain of the death of Acco: they point out that this fate may fall in turn on themselves: they bewail the unhappy fate of Gaul; and by every sort of promises and rewards, they earnestly solicit some to begin the war, and assert the freedom of Gaul at the hazard of their lives. They say that special care should be paid to this, that Caesar should be cut off from his army, before their secret plans should be divulged. That this was easy, because neither would the legions, in the absence of their general, dare to leave their winter quarters, nor could the general reach his army without a guard: finally, that it was better to be slain in battle than not to recover their ancient glory in war, and that freedom which they had received from their forefathers. II.--Whilst these things are in agitation, the Carnutes declare "that they would decline no danger for the sake of the general safety," and promise that they would be the first of all to begin the war; and since they cannot at present take precautions, by giving and receiving hostages, that the affair shall not be divulged they require that a solemn assurance be given them by oath and plighted honour, their military standards being brought together (in which manner their most sacred obligations are made binding), that they should not be deserted by the rest of the Gauls on commencing the war. III.--When the appointed day came, the Carnutes, under the command of Cotuatus and Conetodunus, desperate men, meet together at Genabum, and slay the Roman citizens who had settled there for the purpose of trading (among the rest, Caius Fusius Cita, a distinguished Roman knight, who by Caesar's orders had presided over the provision department), and plunder their property. The report is quickly spread among all the states of Gaul; for, whenever a more important and remarkable event takes place, they transmit the intelligence through their lands and districts by a shout; the others take it up in succession, and pass it to their neighbours, as happened on this occasion; for the things which were done at Genabum at sunrise were heard in the territories of the Arverni before the end of the first watch, which is an extent of more than a hundred and sixty miles. IV.--There in like manner, Vercingetorix the son of Celtillus the Arvernian, a young man of the highest power (whose father had held the supremacy of entire Gaul, and had been put to death by his fellow citizens, for this reason, because he aimed at sovereign power), summoned together his dependents, and easily excited them. On his design being made known, they rush to arms: he is expelled from the town of Gergovia by his uncle Gobanitio and the rest of the nobles, who were of opinion, that such an enterprise ought not to be hazarded: he did not however desist, but held in the country a levy of the needy and desperate. Having collected such a body of troops, he brings over to his 30 sentiments such of his fellow citizens as he has access to: he exhorts them to take up arms in behalf of the general freedom, and having assembled great forces he drives from the state his opponents, by whom he had been expelled a short time previously. He is saluted king by his partisans; he sends ambassadors in every direction, he conjures them to adhere firmly to their promise. He quickly attaches to his interests the Senones, Parisii, Pictones, Cadurci, Turones, Aulerci, Lemovice, and all the others who border on the ocean; the supreme command is conferred on him by unanimous consent. On obtaining this authority, he demands hostages from all these states, he orders a fixed number of soldiers to be sent to him immediately; he determines what quantity of arms each state shall prepare at home, and before what time; he pays particular attention to the cavalry. To the utmost vigilance he adds the utmost rigour of authority; and by the severity of his punishments brings over the wavering: for on the commission of a greater crime he puts the perpetrators to death by fire and every sort of tortures; for a slighter cause, he sends home the offenders with their ears cut off, or one of their eyes put out, that they may be an example to the rest, and frighten others by the severity of their punishment. V.--Having quickly collected an army by their punishments, he sends Lucterius, one of the Cadurci, a man of the utmost daring, with part of his forces, into the territory of the Ruteni; and marches in person into the country of the Bituriges. On his arrival, the Bituriges send ambassadors to the Aedui, under whose protection they were, to solicit aid in order that they might more easily resist the forces of the enemy. The Aedui, by the advice of the lieutenants whom Caesar had left with the army, send supplies of horse and foot to succour the Bituriges. When they came to the river Loire, which separates the Bituriges from the Aedui, they delayed a few days there, and, not daring to pass the river, return home, and send back word to the lieutenants that they had returned through fear of the treachery of the Bituriges, who, they ascertained, had formed this design, that if the Aedui should cross the river, the Bituriges on the one side, and the Arverni on the other, should surround them. Whether they did this for the reason which they alleged to the lieutenants, or influenced by treachery, we think that we ought not to state as certain, because we have no proof. On their departure, the Bituriges immediately unite themselves to the Arverni. VI.--These affairs being announced to Caesar in Italy at the time when he understood that matters in the city had been reduced to a more tranquil state by the energy of Cneius Pompey, he set out for Transalpine Gaul. After he had arrived there, he was greatly at a loss to know by what means he could reach his army. For if he should summon the legions into the province, he was aware that on their march they would have to fight in his absence; he foresaw too, that if he himself should endeavour to reach the army, he would act injudiciously, in trusting his safety even to those who seemed to be tranquillized. VII.--In the meantime Lucterius the Cadurcan, having been sent into the country of the Ruteni, gains over that state to the Arverni. Having advanced into the country of the Nitiobriges, and Gabali, he receives hostages from both nations, and, assembling a numerous force, marches to make a descent on the province in the direction of Narbo. Caesar, when this circumstance was announced to him, thought that the march to Narbo ought to take the precedence of all his other plans. When he arrived there, he encourages the timid, and stations garrisons among the Ruteni, in the province of the Volcae Arecomici, and the country around Narbo which was in the vicinity of the enemy; he orders a portion of the forces from the province, and the recruits which he had brought from Italy, to rendezvous among the Helvii who border on the territories of the Arverni. VIII.--These matters being arranged, and Lucterius now checked and forced to retreat, because he thought it dangerous to enter the line of Roman garrisons, Caesar marches into the country of the Helvii; although mount Cevennes, which separates the Arverni from the Helvii, blocked up the way with very deep snow, as it was the severest season of the year; yet having cleared away the snow to the depth of six feet, and having opened the roads, he reaches the territories of the Arverni, with infinite labour to his soldiers. This people being surprised, because they considered themselves defended by the Cevennes as by a wall, and the paths at this season of the year had never before been passable even to individuals, he orders the cavalry to extend themselves as far as they could, and strike as great a panic as possible into the enemy. These proceedings are speedily announced to Vercingetorix by rumour and his messengers. Around him all the Arverni crowd in alarm, and solemnly entreat him to protect their property, and not to suffer them to be plundered by the enemy, especially as he saw that all the war was transferred into their country. Being prevailed upon by their entreaties he moves his camp from the country of the Bituriges in the direction of the Arverni. IX.--Caesar, having delayed two days in that place, because he had anticipated that, in the natural course of events, such would be the conduct of Vercingetorix, leaves the army under pretence of raising recruits and cavalry: he places Brutus, a young man, in command of these forces; he gives him instructions that the cavalry should range as extensively as possible in all directions; that he would exert himself not to be absent from the camp longer than three days. Having arranged these matters, he marches to Vienna by as long journeys as he can, when his own soldiers did not expect him. Finding there a fresh body of cavalry, which he had sent on to that place several days before, marching incessantly night and day, he advanced rapidly through the territory of the Aedui into that of the Lingones, in which two legions were wintering, that, if any plan affecting his own safety should have been organised by the Aedui, he might defeat it by the rapidity of his movements. When he arrived there, he sends information to the rest of the legions, and gathers all his army into one place before intelligence of his arrival could be announced to the Arverni. Vercingetorix, on hearing this circumstance, leads back his army into the country of the Bituriges; and after marching from it to Gergovia, a town of the Boii, whom Caesar had settled there after defeating them in the Helvetian war, and had rendered tributary to the Aedui, he determined to attack it. X.--This action caused great perplexity to Caesar in the selection of his plans; [he feared] lest, if he should confine his legions in one place for the remaining portion of the winter, all Gaul should revolt when the tributaries of the Aedui were subdued, because it would appear that there was in him no protection for his friends; but if he should draw them too soon out of their winter quarters, he might be distressed by the want of provisions, in consequence of the difficulty of conveyance. It seemed better, however, to endure every hardship than to alienate the affections of all his allies, by submitting to such an insult. Having, therefore, impressed on the Aedui the necessity of supplying him with provisions, he sends forward messengers to the Boii to inform them of his arrival, and encourage them to remain firm in their allegiance, and resist the attack of the enemy with great resolution. Having left two legions and the luggage of the entire army at Agendicum, he marches to the Boii. XI.--On the second day, when he came to Vellaunodunum, a town of the Senones, he determined to attack it, in order that he might not leave an enemy in his rear, and might the more easily procure supplies of provisions, and drew a line of circumvallation around it in two days: on the third day, ambassadors being sent from the town to treat of a capitulation, he orders their arms to be brought together, their cattle to be brought forth, and six hundred hostages to be given. He leaves Caius Trebonius, his lieutenant, to complete these arrangements; he himself sets out with the intention of marching as soon as possible to Genabum, a town of the Carnutes, who having then for the first time received information of the siege of Vellaunodunum, as they thought that it would be protracted to a longer time, were preparing a garrison to send to Genabum for the defence of that town. Caesar arrived here in two days; after pitching his camp before the town, being prevented by the time of the day, he defers the attack to the next day, and orders his soldiers to prepare whatever was necessary for that enterprise; and as a bridge over the Loire connected the town of Genabum with the opposite bank, fearing lest the inhabitants should escape by night from the town, he orders two legions to keep watch under arms. The people of Genabum came forth silently from the city before midnight, and began to cross the river. When this circumstance was announced by scouts, Caesar, having set fire to the gates, sends in the legions which he had ordered to be ready, and obtains possession of the town so completely, that very few of the whole number of the enemy escaped being taken alive, because the narrowness of the bridge and the roads prevented the multitude from escaping. He pillages and burns the town, gives the booty to the soldiers, then leads his army over the Loire, and marches into the territories of the Bituriges. XII.--Vercingetorix, when he ascertained the arrival of Caesar, desisted from the siege [of Gergovia], and marched to meet Caesar. The latter had commenced to besiege Noviodunum; and when ambassadors came from this town to beg that he would pardon them and spare their lives, in order that he might execute the rest of his designs with the rapidity by which he had accomplished most of them, he orders their arms to be collected, their horses to be brought forth, and hostages to be given. A part of the hostages being now delivered up, when the rest of the terms were being performed, a few centurions and soldiers being sent into the town to collect the arms and horses, the enemy's cavalry, which had outstripped the main body of Vercingetorix's army, was seen at a distance; as soon as the townsmen beheld them, and entertained hopes of assistance, raising a shout, they began to take up arms, shut the gates, and line the walls. When the centurions in the town understood from the signal-making of the Gauls that they were forming some new design, they drew their swords and seized the gates, and recovered all their men safe. XIII.--Caesar orders the horse to be drawn out of the camp, and commences a cavalry action. His men being now distressed, Caesar sends to their aid about four hundred German horse, which he had determined, at the beginning, to keep with himself. The Gauls could not withstand their attack, but were put to flight, and retreated to their main body, after losing a great number of men. When they were routed, the townsmen, again intimidated, arrested those persons by whose exertions they thought that the mob had been roused, and brought them to Caesar, and surrendered themselves to him. When these affairs were accomplished, Caesar marched to the Avaricum, which was the largest and best fortified town in the territories of the Bituriges, and situated in a most fertile tract of country; because he confidently expected that on taking that town, he would reduce beneath his dominion the state of the Bituriges. XIV.--Vercingetorix, after sustaining such a series of losses at Vellaunodunum, Genabum, and Noviodunum, summons his men to a council. He impresses on them "that the war must be prosecuted on a very different system from that which had been previously adopted; but they should by all means aim at this object, that the Romans should be prevented from foraging and procuring provisions; that this was easy, because they themselves were well supplied with cavalry and were likewise assisted by the season of the year; that forage could not be cut; that the enemy must necessarily disperse, and look for it in the houses, that all these might be daily destroyed by the horse. Besides that the interests of private property must be neglected for the sake of the general safety; that the villages and houses ought to be fired, over such an extent of country in every direction from Boia, as the Romans appeared capable of scouring in their search for forage. That an abundance of these necessaries could be supplied to them, because they would be assisted by the resources of those in whose territories the war would be waged: that the Romans either would not bear the privation, or else would advance to any distance from the camp with considerable danger; and that it made no difference whether they slew them or stripped them of their baggage, since, if it was lost, they could not carry on the war. Besides that, the towns ought to be burnt which were not secured against every danger by their fortifications or natural advantages; that there should not be places of retreat for their own countrymen for declining military service, nor be exposed to the Romans as inducements to carry off abundance of provisions and plunder. If these sacrifices should appear heavy or galling, that they ought to consider it much more distressing that their wives and children should be dragged off to slavery, and themselves slain; the evils which must necessarily befall the conquered. XV.--This opinion having been approved of by unanimous consent, more than twenty towns of the Bituriges are burnt in one day. Conflagrations are beheld in every quarter; and although all bore this with great regret, yet they laid before themselves this consolation, that, as the victory was certain, they could quickly recover their losses. There is a debate concerning Avaricum in the general council, whether they should decide that it should be burnt or defended. The Bituriges threw themselves at the feet of all the Gauls, and entreat that they should not be compelled to set fire with their own hands to the fairest city of almost the whole of Gaul, which was both a protection and ornament to the state; they say that "they could easily defend it, owing to the nature of the ground, for, being enclosed almost on every side by a river and a marsh, it had only one entrance, and that very narrow." Permission being granted to them at their earnest request, Vercingetorix at first dissuades them from it, but afterwards concedes the point, owing to their entreaties and the compassion of the soldiers. A proper garrison is selected for the town. XVI.--Vercingetorix follows closely upon Caesar by shorter marches, and selects for his camp a place defended by woods and marshes, at the distance of fifteen miles from Avaricum. There he received intelligence by trusty scouts, every hour in the day, of what was going on at Avaricum, and ordered whatever he wished to be done; he closely watched all our expeditions for corn and forage, and whenever they were compelled to go to a greater distance, he attacked them when dispersed, and inflicted severe loss upon them; although the evil was remedied by our men, as far as precautions could be taken, by going forth at irregular times, and by different ways. XVII.--Caesar pitching his camp at that side of the town which was not defended by the river and marsh, and had a very narrow approach, as we have mentioned, began to raise the vineae and erect two towers; for the nature of the place prevented him from drawing a line of circumvallation. He never ceased to importune the Boii and Aedui for supplies of corn; of whom the one [the Aedui], because they were acting with no zeal, did not aid him much; the others [the Boii], as their resources were not great, quickly consumed what they had. Although the army was distressed by the greatest want of corn, through the poverty of the Boii, the apathy of the Aedui, and the burning of the houses, to such a degree, that for several days the soldiers were without corn, and satisfied their extreme hunger with cattle driven from the remote villages; yet no language was heard from them unworthy of the majesty of the Roman people and their former victories. Moreover, when Caesar addressed the legions, one by one, when at work, and said that he would raise the siege, if they felt the scarcity too severely, they unanimously begged him "not to do so; that they had served for several years under his command in such a manner, that they never submitted to insult, and never abandoned an enterprise without accomplishing it; that they should consider it a disgrace if they abandoned the siege after commencing it; that it was better to endure every hardship than not to avenge the manes of the Roman citizens who perished at Genabum by the perfidy of the Gauls." They entrusted the same declarations to the centurions and military tribunes, that through them they might be communicated to Caesar. XVIII.--When the towers had now approached the walls, Caesar ascertained from the captives that Vercingetorix, after destroying the forage, had pitched his camp nearer Avaricum, and that he himself with the cavalry and light-armed infantry, who generally fought among the horse, had gone to lay an ambuscade in that quarter to which he thought that our troops would come the next day to forage. On learning these facts, he set out from the camp secretly at midnight, and reached the camp of the enemy early in the morning. They having quickly learned the arrival of Caesar by scouts, hid their cars and baggage in the thickest parts of the woods, and drew up all their forces in a lofty and open space: which circumstance being announced, Caesar immediately ordered the baggage to be piled, and the arms to be got ready. XIX.--There was a hill of a gentle ascent from the bottom; a dangerous and impassable marsh, not more than fifty feet broad, begirt it on almost every side. The Gauls, having broken down the bridges, posted themselves on this hill, in confidence of their position, and being drawn up in tribes according to their respective states, held all the fords and passages of that marsh with trusty guards, thus determined that if the Romans should attempt to force the marsh, they would overpower them from the higher ground while sticking in it, so that whoever saw the nearness of the position, would imagine that the two armies were prepared to fight on almost equal terms; but whoever should view accurately the disadvantage of position, would discover that they were showing off an empty affectation of courage. Caesar clearly points out to his soldiers, who were indignant that the enemy could bear the sight of them at the distance of so short a space, and were earnestly demanding the signal for action, "with how great loss and the death of how many gallant men the victory would necessarily be purchased: and when he saw them so determined to decline no danger for his renown, that he ought to be considered guilty of the utmost injustice if he did not hold their life dearer than his own personal safety." Having thus consoled his soldiers, he leads them back on the same day to the camp, and determined to prepare the other things which were necessary for the siege of the town. XX.--Vercingetorix, when he had returned to his men, was accused of treason, in that he had moved his camp nearer the Romans, in that he had gone away with all the cavalry, in that he had left so great forces without a commander, in that, on his departure, the Romans had come at such a favourable season, and with such despatch; that all these circumstances could not have happened accidentally or without design; that he preferred holding the sovereignty of Gaul by the grant of Caesar, to acquiring it by their favour. Being accused in such a manner, he made the following reply to these charges:--"That his moving his camp had been caused by want of forage, and had been done even by their advice; that his approaching near the Romans had been a measure dictated by the favourable nature of the ground, which would defend him by its natural strength; that the service of the cavalry could not have been requisite in marshy ground, and was useful in that place to which they had gone; that he, on his departure, had given the supreme command to no one intentionally, lest he should be induced by the eagerness of the multitude to hazard an engagement, to which he perceived that all were inclined, owing to their want of energy, because they were unable to endure fatigue any longer. That, if the Romans in the meantime came up by chance, they [the Gauls] should feel grateful to fortune; if invited by the information of some one they should feel grateful to him, because they were enabled to see distinctly from the higher ground the smallness of the number of their enemy, and despise the courage of those who, not daring to fight, retreated disgracefully into their camp. That he desired no power from Caesar by treachery, since he could have it by victory, which was now assured to himself and to all the Gauls; nay, that he would even give them back the command, if they thought that they conferred honour on him, rather then received safety from him. That you may be assured," said he, "that I speak these words with truth;--listen to these Roman soldiers!" He produces some camp-followers whom he had surprised on a foraging expedition some days before, and had tortured by famine and confinement. They being previously instructed in what answers they should make when examined, say, "That they were legionary soldiers, that, urged by famine and want, they had recently gone forth from the camp, [to see] if they could find any corn or cattle in the fields; that the whole army was distressed by a similar scarcity, nor had any one now sufficient strength, nor could bear the labour of the work; and therefore that the general was determined, if he made no progress in the siege, to draw off his army in three days." "These benefits," says Vercingetorix, "you receive from me, whom you accuse of treason--me, by whose exertions you see so powerful and victorious an army almost destroyed by famine, without shedding one drop of your blood; and I have taken precautions that no state shall admit within its territories this army in its ignominious flight from this place." XXI.--The whole multitude raise a shout and clash their arms, according to their custom, as they usually do in the case of him whose speech they approve; [they exclaim] that Vercingetorix was a consummate general, and that they had no doubt of his honour; that the war could not be conducted with greater prudence. They determine that ten thousand men should be picked out of the entire army and sent into the town, and decide that the general safety should not be entrusted to the Bituriges alone, because they were aware that the glory of the victory must rest with the Bituriges, if they made good the defence of the town. XXII.--To the extraordinary valour of our soldiers, devices of every sort were opposed by the Gauls; since they are a nation of consummate ingenuity, and most skilful in imitating and making those things which are imparted by any one; for they turned aside the hooks with nooses, and when they had caught hold of them firmly, drew them on by means of engines, and undermined the mound the more skilfully on this account, because there are in their territories extensive iron mines, and consequently every description of mining operations is known and practised by them. They had furnished, moreover, the whole wall on every side with turrets, and had covered them with skins. Besides, in their frequent sallies by day and night, they attempted either to set fire to the mound, or attack our soldiers when engaged in the works; and, moreover, by splicing the upright timbers of their own towers, they equalled the height of ours, as fast as the mound had daily raised them, and countermined our mines, and impeded the working of them by stakes bent and sharpened at the ends, and boiling pitch, and stones of very great weight, and prevented them from approaching the walls. XXIII.--But this is usually the form of all the Gallic walls. Straight beams, connected lengthwise and two feet distant from each other at equal intervals, are placed together on the ground; these are mortised on the inside, and covered with plenty of earth. But the intervals which we have mentioned, are closed up in front by large stones. These being thus laid and cemented together, another row is added above, in such a manner that the same interval may be observed, and that the beams may not touch one another, but equal spaces intervening, each row of beams is kept firmly in its place by a row of stones. In this manner the whole wall is consolidated, until the regular height of the wall be completed. This work, with respect to appearance and variety, is not unsightly, owing to the alternate rows of beams and stones, which preserve their order in right lines; and, besides, it possesses great advantages as regards utility and the defence of cities; for the stone protects it from fire, and the wood from the battering ram, since it [the wood] being mortised in the inside with rows of beams, generally forty feet each in length, can neither be broken through nor torn asunder. XXIV.--The siege having been impeded by so many disadvantages, the soldiers, although they were retarded during the whole time, by the mud, cold, and constant showers, yet by their incessant labour overcame all these obstacles, and in twenty-five days raised a mound three hundred and thirty feet broad and eighty feet high. When it almost touched the enemy's walls, and Caesar, according to his usual custom, kept watch at the work, and encouraged the soldiers not to discontinue the work for a moment: a little before the third watch they discovered that the mound was sinking, since the enemy had set it on fire by a mine; and at the same time a shout was raised along the entire wall, and a sally was made from two gates on each side of the turrets. Some at a distance were casting torches and dry wood from the wall on the mound, others were pouring on it pitch, and other materials, by which the flame might be excited, so that a plan could hardly be formed, as to where they should first run to the defence, or to what part aid should be brought. However, as two legions always kept guard before the camp by Caesar's orders, and several of them were at stated times at the work, measures were promptly taken, that some should oppose the sallying party, others draw back the towers and make a cut in the rampart; and moreover, that the whole army should hasten from the camp to extinguish the flames. XXV.--When the battle was going on in every direction, the rest of the night being now spent, and fresh hopes of victory always arose before the enemy: the more so on this account because they saw the coverings of our towers burnt away, and perceived that we, being exposed, could not easily go to give assistance, and they themselves were always relieving the weary with fresh men, and considered that all the safety of Gaul rested on this crisis; there happened in my own view a circumstance which, having appeared to be worthy of record, we thought it ought not to be omitted. A certain Gaul before the gate of the town, who was casting into the fire opposite the turret balls of tallow and fire which were passed along to him, was pierced with a dart on the right side and fell dead. One of those next him stepped over him as he lay, and discharged the same office: when the second man was slain in the same manner by a wound from a cross-bow, a third succeeded him, and a fourth succeeded the third: nor was this post left vacant by the besieged, until, the fire of the mound having been extinguished, and the enemy repulsed in every direction, an end was put to the fighting. XXVI.--The Gauls having tried every expedient, as nothing had succeeded, adopted the design of fleeing from the town the next day, by the advice and order of Vercingetorix. They hoped that, by attempting it at the dead of night, they would effect it without any great loss of men, because the camp of Vercingetorix was not far distant from the town, and the extensive marsh which intervened was likely to retard the Romans in the pursuit. And they were now preparing to execute this by night, when the matrons suddenly ran out into the streets, and weeping cast themselves at the feet of their husbands, and requested of them, with every entreaty, that they should not abandon themselves and their common children to the enemy for punishment, because the weakness of their nature and physical powers prevented them from taking to flight. When they saw that they (as fear does not generally admit of mercy in extreme danger) persisted in their resolution, they began to shout aloud, and give intelligence of their flight to the Romans. The Gauls being intimidated by fear of this, lest the passes should be pre-occupied by the Roman cavalry, desisted from their design. XXVII.--The next day Caesar, the tower being advanced, and the works which he had determined to raise being arranged, a violent storm arising, thought this no bad time for executing his designs, because he observed the guards arranged on the walls a little too negligently, and therefore ordered his own men to engage in their work more remissly, and pointed out what he wished to be done. He drew up his soldiers in a secret position within the vineae, and exhorts them to reap, at least, the harvest of victory proportionate to their exertions. He proposed a reward for those who should first scale the walls, and gave the signal to the soldiers. They suddenly flew out from all quarters and quickly filled the wall. XXVIII.--The enemy being alarmed by the suddenness of the attack, were dislodged from the wall and towers, and drew up, in form of a wedge, in the market-place and the open streets, with this intention that, if an attack should be made on any side, they should fight with their line drawn up to receive it. When they saw no one descending to the level ground, and the enemy extending themselves along the entire wall in every direction, fearing lest every hope of flight should be cut off, they cast away their arms, and sought, without stopping, the most remote parts of the town. A part was then slain by the infantry when they were crowding upon one another in the narrow passage of the gates; and a part having got without the gates, were cut to pieces by the cavalry: nor was there one who was anxious for the plunder. Thus, being excited by the massacre at Genabum and the fatigue of the siege, they spared neither those worn out with years, women, or children. Finally, out of all that number, which amounted to about forty thousand, scarcely eight hundred, who fled from the town when they heard the first alarm, reached Vercingetorix in safety: and he, the night being now far spent, received them in silence after their flight (fearing that any sedition should arise in the camp from their entrance in a body and the compassion of the soldiers), so that, having arranged his friends and the chiefs of the states at a distance on the road, he took precautions that they should be separated and conducted to their fellow countrymen, to whatever part of the camp had been assigned to each state from the beginning. XXIX.--Vercingetorix having convened an assembly on the following day, consoled and encouraged his soldiers in the following words:--"That they should not be too much depressed in spirit, nor alarmed at their loss; that the Romans did not conquer by valour nor in the field, but by a kind of art and skill in assault, with which they themselves were unacquainted; that whoever expected every event in the war to be favourable, erred; that it never was his opinion that Avaricum should be defended, of the truth of which statement he had themselves as witnesses, but that it was owing to the imprudence of the Bituriges, and the too ready compliance of the rest, that this loss was sustained; that, however, he would soon compensate it by superior advantages; for that he would, by his exertions, bring over those states which severed themselves from the rest of the Gauls, and would create a general unanimity throughout the whole of Gaul, the union of which not even the whole earth could withstand, and that he had it already almost effected; that in the meantime it was reasonable that he should prevail on them, for the sake of the general safety, to begin to fortify their camp, in order that they might the more easily sustain the sudden attacks of the enemy." XXX.--This speech was not disagreeable to the Gauls, principally, because he himself was not disheartened by receiving so severe a loss, and had not concealed himself, nor shunned the eyes of the people: and he was believed to possess greater foresight and sounder judgment than the rest, because, when the affair was undecided, he had at first been of opinion that Avaricum should be burnt, and afterwards that it should be abandoned. Accordingly, as ill success weakens the authority of other generals, so, on the contrary, his dignity increased daily, although a loss was sustained: at the same time they began to entertain hopes, on his assertion, of uniting the rest of the states to themselves, and on this occasion, for the first time, the Gauls began to fortify their camps, and were so alarmed that although they were men unaccustomed to toil, yet they were of opinion that they ought to endure and suffer everything which should be imposed upon them. XXXI.--Nor did Vercingetorix use less efforts than he had promised, to gain over the other states, and [in consequence] endeavoured to entice their leaders by gifts and promises. For this object he selected fitting emissaries by whose subtle pleading or private friendship each of the nobles could be most easily influenced. He takes care that those who fled to him on the storming of Avaricum should be provided with arms and clothes. At the same time, that his diminished forces should be recruited, he levies a fixed quota of soldiers from each state, and defines the number and day before which he should wish them brought to the camp, and orders all the archers, of whom there was a very great number in Gaul, to be collected and sent to him. By these means, the troops which were lost at Avaricum are speedily replaced. In the meantime, Teutomarus, the son of Ollovicon, the king of the Nitiobriges, whose father had received the appellation of friend from our senate, came to him with a great number of his own horse and those whom he had hired from Aquitania. XXXII.--Caesar, after delaying several days at Avaricum, and finding there the greatest plenty of corn and other provisions, refreshed his army after their fatigue and privation. The winter being almost ended, when he was invited by the favourable season of the year to prosecute the war and march against the enemy, [and try] whether he could draw them from the marshes and woods, or else press them by a blockade; some noblemen of the Aedui came to him as ambassadors to entreat "that in an extreme emergency he should succour their state; that their affairs were in the utmost danger, because, whereas single magistrates had been usually appointed in ancient times and held the power of king for a single year, two persons now exercised this office, and each asserted that he was appointed according to their laws. That one of them was Convictolitanis, a powerful and illustrious youth; the other Cotus, sprung from a most ancient family, and personally a man of very great influence and extensive connections. His brother Valetiacus had borne the same office during the last year: that the whole state was up in arms; the senate divided, the people divided; that each of them had his own adherents; and that, if the animosity would be fomented any longer the result would be that one part of the state would come to a collision with the other; that it rested with his activity and influence to prevent it." XXXIII.--Although Caesar considered it ruinous to leave the war and the enemy, yet, being well aware what great evils generally arise from internal dissensions, lest a state so powerful and so closely connected with the Roman people, which he himself had always fostered and honoured in every respect, should have recourse to violence and arms, and that the party which had less confidence in its own power should summon aid from Vercingetorix, he determined to anticipate this movement; and because, by the laws of the Aedui, it was not permitted those who held the supreme authority to leave the country, he determined to go in person to the Aedui, lest he should appear to infringe upon their government and laws, and summoned all the senate, and those between whom the dispute was, to meet him at Decetia. When almost all the state had assembled there, and he was informed that one brother had been declared magistrate by the other, when only a few persons were privately summoned for the purpose, at a different time and place from what he ought, whereas the laws not only forbade two belonging to one family to be elected magistrates while each was alive, but even deterred them from being in the senate, he compelled Cotus to resign his office; he ordered Convictolitanis, who had been elected by the priests, according to the usage of the state, in the presence of the magistrates, to hold the supreme authority. XXXIV.--Having pronounced this decree between [the contending parties], he exhorted the Aedui to bury in oblivion their disputes and dissensions, and, laying aside all these things, devote themselves to the war, and expect from him, on the conquest of Gaul, those rewards which they should have earned, and send speedily to him all their cavalry and ten thousand infantry, which he might place in different garrisons to protect his convoys of provisions, and then divided his army into two parts: he gave Labienus four legions to lead into the country of the Senones and Parisii; and led in person six into the country of the Arverni, in the direction of the town of Gergovia, along the banks of the Allier. He gave part of the cavalry to Labienus, and kept part to himself. Vercingetorix, on learning this circumstance, broke down all the bridges over the river and began to march on the other bank of the Allier. XXXV.--When each army was in sight of the other, and was pitching their camp almost opposite that of the enemy, scouts being distributed in every quarter, lest the Romans should build a bridge and bring over their troops; it was to Caesar a matter attended with great difficulties, lest he should be hindered from passing the river during the greater part of the summer, as the Allier cannot generally be forded before the autumn. Therefore, that this might not happen, having pitched his camp in a woody place opposite to one of those bridges which Vercingetorix had taken care should be broken down, the next day he stopped behind with two legions in a secret place: he sent on the rest of the forces as usual, with all the baggage, after having selected some cohorts, that the number of the legions might appear to be complete. Having ordered these to advance as far as they could, when now, from the time of day, he conjectured they had come to an encampment, he began to rebuild the bridge on the same piles, the lower part of which remained entire. Having quickly finished the work and led his legions across, he selected a fit place for a camp, and recalled the rest of his troops. Vercingetorix, on ascertaining this fact, went before him by forced marches, in order that he might not be compelled to come to an action against his will. XXXVI.--Caesar, in five days' march, went from that place to Gergovia, and after engaging in a slight cavalry skirmish that day, on viewing the situation of the city, which, being built on a very high mountain, was very difficult of access, he despaired of taking it by storm, and determined to take no measures with regard to besieging it before he should secure a supply of provisions. But Vercingetorix, having pitched his camp on the mountain near the town, placed the forces of each state separately and at small intervals around himself, and having occupied all the hills of that range as far as they commanded a view [of the Roman encampment], he presented a formidable appearance; he ordered the rulers of the states, whom he had selected as his council of war, to come to him daily at the dawn, whether any measure seemed to require deliberation or execution. Nor did he allow almost any day to pass without testing in a cavalry action, the archers being intermixed, what spirit and valour there was in each of his own men. There was a hill opposite the town, at the very foot of that mountain, strongly fortified and precipitous on every side (which if our men could gain, they seemed likely to exclude the enemy from a great share of their supply of water, and from free foraging; but this place was occupied by them with a weak garrison): however, Caesar set out from the camp in the silence of night, and dislodging the garrison before succour could come from the town, he got possession of the place and posted two legions there, and drew from the greater camp to the less a double trench twelve feet broad, so that the soldiers could even singly pass secure from any sudden attack of the enemy. XXXVII.--Whilst these affairs were going on at Gergovia, Convictolitanis, the Aeduan, to whom we have observed the magistracy was adjudged by Caesar, being bribed by the Arverni, holds a conference with certain young men, the chief of whom were Litavicus and his brothers, who were born of a most noble family. He shares the bribe with them, and exhorts them to "remember that they were free and born for empire; that the state of the Aedui was the only one which retarded the most certain victory of the Gauls; that the rest were held in check by its authority; and, if it was brought over, the Romans would not have room to stand on in Gaul; that he had received some kindness from Caesar, only so far, however, as gaining a most just cause by his decision; but that he assigned more weight to the general freedom; for, why should the Aedui go to Caesar to decide concerning their rights and laws, rather than the Romans come to the Aedui?" The young men being easily won over by the speech of the magistrate and the bribe, when they declared that they would even be leaders in the plot, a plan for accomplishing it was considered, because they were confident their state could not be induced to undertake the war on slight grounds. It was resolved that Litavicus should have the command of the ten thousand which were being sent to Caesar for the war, and should have charge of them on their march, and that his brothers should go before him to Caesar. They arrange the other measures, and the manner in which they should have them done. XXXVIII.--Litavicus, having received the command of the army, suddenly convened the soldiers, when he was about thirty miles distant from Gergovia, and, weeping, said, "Soldiers, whither are we going? All our knights and all our nobles have perished. Eporedorix and Viridomarus, the principal men of the state, being accused of treason, have been slain by the Romans without even permission to plead their cause. Learn this intelligence from those who have escaped from the massacre; for I, since my brothers and all my relations have been slain, am prevented by grief from declaring what has taken place." Persons are brought forward whom he had instructed in what he would have them say, and make the same statements to the soldiery as Litavicus had made: that all the knights of the Aedui were slain because they were said to have held conferences with the Arverni; that they had concealed themselves among the multitude of soldiers, and had escaped from the midst of the slaughter. The Aedui shout aloud and conjure Litavicus to provide for their safety. "As if," said he, "it were a matter of deliberation, and not of necessity, for us to go to Gergovia and unite ourselves to the Arverni. Or have we any reasons to doubt that the Romans, after perpetrating the atrocious crime, are now hastening to slay us? Therefore, if there be any spirit in us, let us avenge the death of those who have perished in a most unworthy manner, and let us slay these robbers." He points to the Roman citizens, who had accompanied them, in reliance on his protection. He immediately seizes a great quantity of corn and provisions, cruelly tortures them, and then puts them to death, sends messengers throughout the entire state of the Aedui, and rouses them completely by the same falsehood concerning the slaughter of their knights and nobles; he earnestly advises them to avenge, in the same manner as he did, the wrongs which they had received. XXXIX.--Eporedorix, the Aeduan, a young man born in the highest rank and possessing very great influence at home, and, along with Viridomarus, of equal age and influence, but of inferior birth, whom Caesar had raised from a humble position to the highest rank, on being recommended to him by Divitiacus, had come in the number of horse, being summoned by Caesar by name. These had a dispute with each other for precedence, and in the struggle between the magistrates they had contended with their utmost efforts, the one for Convictolitanis, the other for Cotus. Of these Eporedorix, on learning the design of Litavicus, lays the matter before Caesar almost at midnight; he entreats that Caesar should not suffer their state to swerve from the alliance with the Roman people, owing to the depraved counsels of a few young men, which he foresaw would be the consequence if so many thousand men should unite themselves to the enemy, as their relations could not neglect their safety, nor the state regard it as a matter of slight importance. XL.--Caesar felt great anxiety on this intelligence, because he had always especially indulged the state of the Aedui, and, without any hesitation, draws out from the camp four light-armed legions and all the cavalry: nor had he time, at such a crisis, to contract the camp, because the affair seemed to depend upon despatch. He leaves Caius Fabius, his lieutenant, with two legions to guard the camp. When he ordered the brothers of Litavicus to be arrested, he discovers that they had fled a short time before to the camp of the enemy. He encouraged his soldiers "not to be disheartened by the labour of the journey on such a necessary occasion," and, after advancing twenty-five miles, all being most eager, he came in sight of the army of the Aedui, and, by sending on his cavalry, retards and impedes their march; he then issues strict orders to all his soldiers to kill no one. He commands Eporedorix and Viridomarus, who they thought were killed, to move among the cavalry and address their friends. When they were recognized and the treachery of Litavicus discovered, the Aedui began to extend their hands to intimate submission, and, laying down their arms, to deprecate death. Litavicus, with his clansmen, who after the custom of the Gauls consider it a crime to desert their patrons, even in extreme misfortune, flees forth to Gergovia. XLI.--Caesar, after sending messengers to the state of the Aedui, to inform them that they whom he could have put to death by the right of war were spared through his kindness, and after giving three hours of the night to his army for his repose, directed his march to Gergovia. Almost in the middle of the journey, a party of horse that were sent by Fabius stated in how great danger matters were; they inform him that the camp was attacked by a very powerful army, while fresh men were frequently relieving the wearied, and exhausting our soldiers by the incessant toil, since, on account of the size of the camp, they had constantly to remain on the rampart; that many had been wounded by the immense number of arrows and all kinds of missiles; that the engines were of great service in withstanding them; that Fabius, at their departure, leaving only two gates open, was blocking up the rest, and was adding breast-works to the ramparts, and was preparing himself for a similar casualty on the following day. Caesar, after receiving this information, reached the camp before sunrise owing to the very great zeal of his soldiers. XLII.--Whilst these things are going on at Gergovia, the Aedui, on receiving the first announcements from Litavicus, leave themselves no time to ascertain the truth of these statements. Some are stimulated by avarice, others by revenge and credulity, which is an innate propensity in that race of men to such a degree that they consider a slight rumour as an ascertained fact. They plunder the property of the Roman citizens, and either massacre them or drag them away to slavery. Convictolitanis increases the evil state of affairs, and goads on the people to fury, that by the commission of some outrage they may be ashamed to return to propriety. They entice from the town of Cabillonus, by a promise of safety, Marcus Aristius, a military tribune, who was on his march to his legion; they compel those who had settled there for the purpose of trading to do the same. By constantly attacking them on their march they strip them of all their baggage; they besiege day and night those that resisted; when many were slain on both sides, they excite a greater number to arms. XLIII.--In the meantime, when intelligence was brought that all their soldiers were in Caesar's power, they run in a body to Aristius; they assure him that nothing had been done by public authority; they order an inquiry to be made about the plundered property; they confiscate the property of Litavicus and his brothers; they send ambassadors to Caesar for the purpose of clearing themselves. They do all this with a view to recover their soldiers; but being contaminated by guilt, and charmed by the gains arising from the plundered property, as that act was shared in by many, and being tempted by the fear of punishment, they began to form plans of war and stir up the other states by embassies. Although Caesar was aware of this proceeding, yet he addresses the ambassadors with as much mildness as he can: "That he did not think worse of the state on account of the ignorance and fickleness of the mob, nor would diminish his regard for the Aedui." He himself, fearing a greater commotion in Gaul, in order to prevent his being surrounded by all the states, began to form plans as to the manner in which he should return from Gergovia and again concentrate his forces, lest a departure arising from the fear of a revolt should seem like a flight. XLIV.--Whilst he was considering these things an opportunity of acting successfully seemed to offer. For, when he had come into the smaller camp for the purpose of securing the works, he noticed that the hill in the possession of the enemy was stript of men, although, on the former days, it could scarcely be seen on account of the numbers on it. Being astonished, he inquires the reason of it from the deserters, a great number of whom flocked to him daily. They all concurred in asserting, what Caesar himself had already ascertained by his scouts, that the back of that hill was almost level; but likewise woody and narrow, by which there was a pass to the other side of the town; that they had serious apprehensions for this place, and had no other idea, on the occupation of one hill by the Romans, than that, if they should lose the other, they would be almost surrounded, and cut off from all egress and foraging; that they were all summoned by Vercingetorix to fortify this place. XLV.--Caesar, on being informed of this circumstance, sends several troops of horse to the place immediately after midnight; he orders them to range in every quarter with more tumult than usual. At dawn he orders a large quantity of baggage to be drawn out of the camp, and the muleteers with helmets, in the appearance and guise of horsemen, to ride round the hills. To these he adds a few cavalry, with instructions to range more widely to make a show. He orders them all to seek the same quarter by a long circuit; these proceedings were seen at a distance from the town, as Gergovia commanded a view of the camp, nor could the Gauls ascertain at so great a distance what certainty there was in the manoeuvre. He sends one legion to the same hill, and after it had marched a little, stations it in the lower ground, and conceals it in the woods. The suspicions of the Gauls are increased, and all their forces are marched to that place to defend it. Caesar, having perceived the camp of the enemy deserted, covers the military insignia of his men, conceals the standards, and transfers his soldiers in small bodies from the greater to the less camp, and points out to the lieutenants whom he had placed in command over the respective legions, what he should wish to be done; he particularly advises them to restrain their men from advancing too far, through their desire of fighting, or their hope of plunder; he sets before them what disadvantages the unfavourable nature of the ground carries with it; that they could be assisted by despatch alone: that success depended on a surprise, and not on a battle. After stating these particulars, he gives the signal for action, and detaches the Aedui at the same time by another ascent an the right. XLVI.--The town wall was 1200 paces distant from the plain and foot of the ascent, in a straight line, if no gap intervened; whatever circuit was added to this ascent, to make the hill easy, increased the length of the route. But almost in the middle of the hill, the Gauls had previously built a wall six feet high, made of large stones, and extending in length as far as the nature of the ground permitted, as a barrier to retard the advance of our men; and leaving all the lower space empty, they had filled the upper part of the hill, as far as the wall of the town, with their camps very close to one another. The soldiers, on the signal being given, quickly advance to this fortification, and passing over it, make themselves masters of the separate camps. And so great was their activity in taking the camps, that Teutomarus, the king of the Nitiobriges, being suddenly surprised in his tent, as he had gone to rest at noon, with difficulty escaped from the hands of the plunderers, with the upper part of his person naked, and his horse wounded. XLVII.--Caesar, having accomplished the object which he had in view, ordered the signal to be sounded for a retreat; and the soldiers of the tenth legion, by which he was then accompanied, halted. But the soldiers of the other legions, not hearing the sound of the trumpet, because there was a very large valley between them, were however kept back by the tribunes of the soldiers and the lieutenants, according to Caesar's orders; but being animated by the prospect of speedy victory, and the flight of the enemy, and the favourable battles of former periods, they thought nothing so difficult that their bravery could not accomplish it; nor did they put an end to the pursuit, until they drew nigh to the wall of the town and the gates. But then, when a shout arose in every quarter of the city, those who were at a distance being alarmed by the sudden tumult, fled hastily from the town, since they thought that the enemy were within the gates. The matrons begin to cast their clothes and silver over the wall, and bending over as far as the lower part of the bosom, with outstretched hands beseech the Romans to spare them, and not to sacrifice to their resentment even women and children, as they had done at Avaricum. Some of them let themselves down from the walls by their hands, and surrendered to our soldiers. Lucius Fabius, a centurion of the eighth legion, who, it was ascertained, had said that day among his fellow soldiers that he was excited by the plunder of Avaricum, and would not allow any one to mount the wall before him, finding three men of his own company, and being raised up by them, scaled the wall. He himself, in turn, taking hold of them one by one, drew them up to the wall. XLVIII.--In the meantime those who had gone to the other part of the town to defend it, as we have mentioned above, at first, aroused by hearing the shouts, and, afterwards, by frequent accounts that the town was in possession of the Romans, sent forward their cavalry, and hastened in larger numbers to that quarter. As each first came he stood beneath the wall, and increased the number of his countrymen engaged in action. When a great multitude of them had assembled, the matrons, who a little before were stretching their hands from the walls to the Romans, began to beseech their countrymen, and after the Gallic fashion to show their dishevelled hair, and bring their children into public view. Neither in position nor in numbers was the contest an equal one to the Romans; at the same time, being exhausted by running and the long continuation of the fight, they could not easily withstand fresh and vigorous troops. XLIX.--Caesar, when he perceived that his soldiers were fighting on unfavourable ground, and that the enemy's forces were increasing, being alarmed for the safety of his troops, sent orders to Titus Sextius, one of his lieutenants, whom he had left to guard the smaller camp, to lead out his cohorts quickly from the camp, and post them at the foot of the hill, on the right wing of the enemy; that if he should see our men driven from the ground, he should deter the enemy from following too closely. He himself, advancing with the legion a little from that place where he had taken his post, awaited the issue of the battle. L.--While the fight was going on most vigorously, hand to hand, and the enemy depended on their position and numbers, our men on their bravery, the Aedui suddenly appeared on our exposed flank, as Caesar had sent them by another ascent on the right, for the sake of creating a diversion. These, from the similarity of their arms, greatly terrified our men; and although they were discovered to have their right shoulders bare, which was usually the sign of those reduced to peace, yet the soldiers suspected that this very thing was done by the enemy to deceive them. At the same time Lucius Fabius the centurion, and those who had scaled the wall with him, being surrounded and slain, were cast from the wall. Marcus Petreius, a centurion of the same legion, after attempting to hew down the gates, was overpowered by numbers, and, despairing of his safety, having already received many wounds, said to the soldiers of his own company who followed him: "Since I cannot save you as well as myself, I shall at least provide for your safety, since I allured by the love of glory, led you into this danger, do you save yourselves when an opportunity is given." At the same time he rushed into the midst of the enemy, and slaying two of them, drove back the rest a little from the gate. When his men attempted to aid him, "In vain," he says, "you endeavour to procure my safety since blood and strength are now failing me, therefore leave this, while you have the opportunity, and retreat to the legion." Thus he fell fighting a few moments after, and saved his men by his own death. LI.--Our soldiers, being hard pressed on every side, were dislodged from their position, with the loss of forty-six centurions; but the tenth legion, which had been posted in reserve on ground a little more level, checked the Gauls in their eager pursuit. It was supported by the cohorts of the thirteenth legion, which, being led from the smaller camp, had, under the command of Titus Sextius, occupied the higher ground. The legions, as soon as they reached the plain, halted and faced the enemy. Vercingetorix led back his men from the part of the hill within the fortifications. On that day little less than seven hundred of the soldiers were missing. LII.--On the next day, Caesar, having called a meeting, censured the rashness and avarice of his soldiers, "In that they had judged for themselves how far they ought to proceed, or what they ought to do, and could not be kept back by the tribunes of the soldiers and the lieutenants;" and stated, "what the disadvantage of the ground could effect, what opinion he himself had entertained at Avaricum, when having surprised the enemy without either general or cavalry, he had given up a certain victory, lest even a trifling loss should occur in the contest owing to the disadvantage of position. That as much as he admired the greatness of their courage, since neither the fortifications of the camp, nor the height of the mountain, nor the wall of the town could retard them; in the same degree he censured their licentiousness and arrogance, because they thought that they knew more than their general concerning victory, and the issue of actions: and that he required in his soldiers forbearance and self-command, not less than valour and magnanimity." LIII.--Having held this assembly, and having encouraged the soldiers at the conclusion of his speech, "That they should not be dispirited on this account, nor attribute to the valour of the enemy what the disadvantage of position had caused;" entertaining the same views of his departure that he had previously had, he led forth the legions from the camp, and drew up his army in order of battle in a suitable place. When Vercingetorix, nevertheless, would not descend to the level ground, a slight cavalry action, and that a successful one, having taken place, he led back his army into the camp. When he had done this, the next day, thinking that he had done enough to lower the pride of the Gauls, and to encourage the minds of his soldiers, he moved his camp in the direction of the Aedui. The enemy not even then pursuing us, on the third day he repaired the bridge over the river Allier, and led over his whole army. LIV.--Having then held an interview with Viridomarus and Eporedorix the Aeduans, he learns that Litavicus had set out with all the cavalry to raise the Aedui; that it was necessary that they too should go before him to confirm the state in their allegiance. Although he now saw distinctly the treachery of the Aedui in many things, and was of opinion that the revolt of the entire state would be hastened by their departure; yet he thought that they should not be detained, lest he should appear either to offer an insult, or betray some suspicion of fear. He briefly states to them when departing his services towards the Aedui: in what a state and how humbled he had found them, driven into their towns, deprived of their lands, stripped of all their forces, a tribute imposed on them, and hostages wrested from them with the utmost insult; and to what condition and to what greatness he had raised them, [so much so] that they had not only recovered their former position, but seemed to surpass the dignity and influence of all the previous eras of their history. After giving these admonitions he dismissed them. LV.--Noviodunum was a town of the Aedui, advantageously situated on the banks of the Loire. Caesar had conveyed hither all the hostages of Gaul, the corn, public money, a great part of his own baggage and that of his army; he had sent hither a great number of horses, which he had purchased in Italy and Spain on account of this war. When Eporedorix and Viridomarus came to this place, and received information of the disposition of the state, that Litavicus had been admitted by the Aedui into Bibracte, which is a town of the greatest importance among them, that Convictolitanis the chief magistrate and a great part of the senate had gone to meet him, that ambassadors had been publicly sent to Vercingetorix to negotiate a peace and alliance; they thought that so great an opportunity ought not to be neglected. Therefore, having put to the sword the garrison of Noviodunum and those who had assembled there for the purpose of trading or were on their march, they divided the money and horses among themselves; they took care that the hostages of the [different] states should be brought to Bibracte, to the chief magistrate; they burnt the town to prevent its being of any service to the Romans, as they were of opinion that they could not hold it; they carried away in their vessels whatever corn they could in the hurry; they destroyed the remainder, by [throwing it] into the river or setting it on fire; they themselves began to collect forces from the neighbouring country, to place guards and garrisons in different positions along the banks of the Loire, and to display the cavalry on all sides to strike terror into the Romans, [to try] if they could cut them off from a supply of provisions. In which expectation they were much aided, from the circumstance that the Loire had swollen to such a degree from the melting of the snows, that it did not seem capable of being forded at all. LVI.--Caesar on being informed of these movements was of opinion that he ought to make haste, even if he should run some risk in completing the bridges, in order that he might engage before greater forces of the enemy should be collected in that place. For no one even then considered it an absolutely necessary act, that changing his design he should direct his march into the Province, both because the infamy and disgrace of the thing, and the intervening mount Cevennes, and the difficulty of the roads prevented him; and especially because he had serious apprehensions for the safety of Labienus whom he had detached, and those legions whom he had sent with him. Therefore, having made very long marches by day and night, he came to the river Loire, contrary to the expectation of all; and having by means of the cavalry found out a ford, suitable enough considering the emergency, of such depth that their arms and shoulders could be above water for supporting their accoutrements, he dispersed his cavalry in such a manner as to break the force of the current, and having confounded the enemy at the first sight, led his army across the river in safety; and finding corn and cattle in the fields, after refreshing his army with them, he determined to march into the country of the Senones. LVII.--Whilst these things are being done by Caesar, Labienus, leaving at Agendicum the recruits who had lately arrived from Italy, to guard the baggage, marches with four legions to Lutetia (which is a town of the Parisii, situated on an island of the river Seine), whose arrival being discovered by the enemy, numerous forces arrived from the neighbouring states. The supreme command is entrusted to Camulogenus, one of the Aulerci, who, although almost worn out with age, was called to that honour on account of his extraordinary knowledge of military tactics. He, when he observed that there was a large marsh which communicated with the Seine, and rendered all that country impassable, encamped there, and determined to prevent our troops from passing it. LVIII.--Labienus at first attempted to raise vineae, fill up the marsh with hurdles and clay, and secure a road. After he perceived that this was too difficult to accomplish, he issued in silence from his camp at the third watch, and reached Melodunum by the same route by which he came. This is a town of the Senones, situated on an island in the Seine, as we have just before observed of Lutetia. Having seized upon about fifty ships and quickly joined them together, and having placed soldiers in them, he intimidated by his unexpected arrival the inhabitants, of whom a great number had been called out to the war, and obtains possession of the town without a contest. Having repaired the bridge, which the enemy had broken down during the preceding days, he led over his army, and began to march along the banks of the river to Lutetia. The enemy, on learning the circumstance from those who had escaped from Melodunum, set fire to Lutetia, and order the bridges of that town to be broken down: they themselves set out from the marsh, and take their position on the banks of the Seine, over against Lutetia and opposite the camp of Labienus. LIX.--Caesar was now reported to have departed from Gergovia; intelligence was likewise brought to them concerning the revolt of the Aedui, and a successful rising in Gaul; and that Caesar, having been prevented from prosecuting his journey and crossing the Loire, and having been compelled by the want of corn, had marched hastily to the province. But the Bellovaci, who had been previously disaffected of themselves, on learning the revolt of the Aedui, began to assemble forces and openly to prepare for war; Then Labienus, as the change in affairs was so great, thought that he must adopt a very different system from what he had previously intended, and he did not now think of making any new acquisitions, or of provoking the enemy to an action; but that he might bring back his army safe to Agendicum. For, on one side, the Bellovaci, a state which held the highest reputation for prowess in Gaul, were pressing on him; and Camulogenus, with a disciplined and well-equipped army, held the other side; moreover, a very great river separated and cut off the legions from the garrison and baggage. He saw that, in consequence of such great difficulties being thrown in his way, he must seek aid from his own energy of disposition. LX.--Having, therefore, called a council of war a little before evening, he exhorted his soldiers to execute with diligence and energy such commands as he should give; he assigns the ships which he had brought from Melodunum to Roman knights, one to each, and orders them to fall down the river silently for four miles, at the end of the fourth watch, and there wait for him. He leaves the five cohorts, which he considered to be the most steady in action, to guard the camp; he orders the five remaining cohorts of the same legion to proceed a little after midnight up the river with all their baggage, in a great tumult. He collects also some small boats; and sends them in the same direction, with orders to make a loud noise in rowing. He himself, a little after, marched out in silence, and, at the head of three legions, seeks that place to which he had ordered the ships to be brought. LXI.--When he had arrived there, the enemy's scouts, as they were stationed along every part of the river, not expecting an attack, because a great storm had suddenly arisen, were surprised by our soldiers: the infantry and cavalry are quickly transported, under the superintendence of the Roman knights, whom he had appointed to that office. Almost at the same time, a little before daylight, intelligence was given to the enemy that there was an unusual tumult in the camp of the Romans, and that a strong force was marching up the river, and that the sound of oars was distinctly heard in the same quarter, and that soldiers were being conveyed across in ships a little below. On hearing these things, because they were of opinion that the legions were passing in three different places, and that the entire army, being terrified by the revolt of the Aedui, were preparing for flight, they divided their forces also into three divisions. For leaving a guard opposite to the camp and sending a small body in the direction of Metiosedum, with orders to advance as far as the ships would proceed, they led the rest of their troops against Labienus. LXII.--By day-break all our soldiers were brought across and the army of the enemy was in sight. Labienus, having encouraged his soldiers "to retain the memory of their ancient valour, and so many most successful actions, and imagine Caesar himself, under whose command they had so often routed the enemy, to be present," gives the signal for action. At the first onset the enemy are beaten and put to flight in the right wing, where the seventh legion stood: on the left wing, which position the twelfth legion held, although the first ranks fell transfixed by the javelins of the Romans, yet the rest resisted most bravely; nor did any one of them show the slightest intention of flying. Camulogenus, the general of the enemy, was present and encouraged his troops. But when the issue of the victory was still uncertain, and the circumstances which were taking place on the left wing were announced to the tribunes of the seventh legion, they faced about their legion to the enemy's rear and attacked it: not even then did any one retreat, but all were surrounded and slain. Camulogenus met the same fate. But those who were left as a guard opposite the camp of Labienus, when they heard that the battle was commenced, marched to aid their countrymen and take possession of a hill, but were unable to withstand the attack of the victorious soldiers. In this manner, mixed with their own fugitives, such as the woods and mountains did not shelter were cut to pieces by our cavalry. When this battle was finished, Labienus returns to Agendicum, where the baggage of the whole army had been left: from it he marched with all his forces to Caesar. LXIII.--The revolt of the Aedui being known, the war grows more dangerous. Embassies are sent by them in all directions: as far as they can prevail by influence, authority, or money, they strive to excite the state [to revolt]. Having got possession of the hostages whom Caesar had deposited with them, they terrify the hesitating by putting them to death. The Aedui request Vercingetorix to come to them and communicate his plans of conducting the war. On obtaining this request they insist that the chief command should be assigned to them; and when the affair became a disputed question, a council of all Gaul is summoned to Bibracte. They come together in great numbers and from every quarter to the same place. The decision is left to the votes of the mass: all to a man approve of Vercingetorix as their general. The Remi, Lingones, and Treviri were absent from this meeting; the two former because they attached themselves to the alliance of Rome; the Treviri because they were very remote and were hard pressed by the Germans; which was also the reason of their being absent during the whole war, and their sending auxiliaries to neither party. The Aedui are highly indignant at being deprived of the chief command; they lament the change of fortune, and miss Caesar's indulgence towards them; however, after engaging in the war, they do not dare to pursue their own measures apart from the rest. Eporedorix and Viridomarus, youths of the greatest promise, submit reluctantly to Vercingetorix. LXIV.--The latter demands hostages from the remaining states: nay, more, appointed a day for this proceeding; he orders all the cavalry, fifteen thousand in number, to quickly assemble here; he says that he will be content with the infantry which he had before, and would not tempt fortune nor come to a regular engagement; but since he had abundance of cavalry, it would be very easy for him to prevent the Romans from obtaining forage or corn, provided that they themselves should resolutely destroy their corn and set fire to their houses, by which sacrifice of private property they would evidently obtain perpetual dominion and freedom. After arranging these matters he levies ten thousand infantry on the Aedui and Segusiani, who border on our province: to these he adds eight hundred horse. He sets over them the brother of Eporedorix, and orders him to wage war against the Allobroges. On the other side he sends the Gabali and the nearest cantons of the Arverni against the Helvii; he likewise sends the Ruteni and Cadurci to lay waste the territories of the Volcae Arecomici. Besides, by secret messages and embassies, he tampers with the Allobroges, whose minds, he hopes, had not yet settled down after the excitement of the late war. To their nobles he promises money, and to their state the dominion of the whole province. LXV.--The only guards provided against all these contingencies were twenty-two cohorts, which were collected from the entire province by Lucius Caesar, the lieutenant, and opposed to the enemy in every quarter. The Helvii, voluntarily engaging in battle with their neighbours, are defeated, and Caius Valerius Donotaurus, the son of Caburus, the principal man of the state, and several others, being slain, they are forced to retire within their towns and fortifications. The Allobroges, placing guards along the course of the Rhine, defend their frontiers with great vigilance and energy. Caesar, as he perceived that the enemy were superior in cavalry, and he himself could receive no aid from the province or Italy, while all communication was cut off, sends across the Rhine into Germany to those states which he had subdued in the preceding campaigns, and summons from them cavalry and the light-armed infantry, who were accustomed to engage among them. On their arrival, as they were mounted on unserviceable horses, he takes horses from the military tribunes and the rest, nay, even from the Roman knights and veterans, and distributes them among the Germans. LXVI.--In the meantime, whilst these things are going on, the forces of the enemy from the Arverni, and the cavalry which had been demanded from all Gaul, meet together. A great number of these having been collected, when Caesar was marching into the country of the Sequani, through the confines of the Lingones, in order that he might the more easily render aid to the province, Vercingetorix encamped in three camps, about ten miles from the Romans: and having summoned the commanders of the cavalry to a council, he shows that the time of victory was come; that the Romans were fleeing into the province and leaving Gaul; that this was sufficient for obtaining immediate freedom; but was of little moment in acquiring peace and tranquillity for the future; for the Romans would return after assembling greater forces, and would not put an end to the war; Therefore they should attack them on their march, when encumbered. If the infantry should [be obliged to] relieve their cavalry, and be retarded by doing so, the march could not be accomplished: if, abandoning their baggage, they should provide for their safety (a result which, he trusted, was more likely to ensue), they would lose both property and character. For as to the enemy's horse, they ought not to entertain a doubt that none of them would dare to advance beyond the main body. In order that they [the Gauls] may do so with greater spirit, he would marshal all their forces before the camp, and intimidate the enemy. The cavalry unanimously shout out, "That they ought to bind themselves by a most sacred oath, that he should not be received under a roof, nor have access to his children, parents, or wife, who shall not twice have ridden through the enemy's army." LXVII.--This proposal receiving general approbation, and all being forced to take the oath, on the next day the cavalry were divided into three parts, and two of these divisions made a demonstration on our two flanks; while one in front began to obstruct our march. On this circumstance being announced, Caesar orders his cavalry also to form three divisions and charge the enemy. Then the action commences simultaneously in every part: the main body halts; the baggage is received within the ranks of the legions. If our men seemed to be distressed, or hard pressed in any quarter, Caesar usually ordered the troops to advance, and the army to wheel round in that quarter; which conduct retarded the enemy in the pursuit, and encouraged our men by the hope of support. At length the Germans, on the right wing, having gained the top of the hill, dislodge the enemy from their position and pursue them even as far as the river at which Vercingetorix with the infantry was stationed, and slay several of them. The rest, on observing this action, fearing lest they should be surrounded, betake themselves to flight. A slaughter ensues in every direction, and three of the noblest of the Audi are taken and brought to Caesar: Cotus, the commander of the cavalry, who had been engaged in the contest with Convictolitanis the last election, Cavarillus, who had held the command of the infantry after the revolt of Litavicus, and Eporedorix, under whose command the Aedui had engaged in war against the Sequani, before the arrival of Caesar. LXVIII.--All his cavalry being routed, Vercingetorix led back his troops in the same order as he had arranged them before the camp, and immediately began to march to Alesia, which is a town of the Mandubii; and ordered the baggage to be speedily brought forth from the camp, and follow him closely. Caesar, having conveyed his baggage to the nearest hill, and having left two legions to guard it, pursued as far as the time of day would permit, and after slaying about three thousand of the rear of the enemy, encamped at Alesia on the next day. On reconnoitring the situation of the city, finding that the enemy were panic-stricken, because the cavalry in which they placed their chief reliance were beaten, he encouraged his men to endure the toil, and began to draw a line of circumvallation round Alesia. LXIX.--The town itself was situated on the top of a hill, in a very lofty position, so that it did not appear likely to be taken, except by a regular siege. Two rivers, on two different sides, washed the foot of the hill. Before the town lay a plain of about three miles in length; on every other side hills at a moderate distance, and of an equal degree of height, surrounded the town. The army of the Gauls had filled all the space under the wall, comprising the part of the hill which looked to the rising sun, and had drawn in front a trench and a stone wall six feet high. The circuit of that fortification, which was commenced by the Romans, comprised eleven miles. The camp was pitched in a strong position, and twenty-three redoubts were raised in it, in which sentinels were placed by day, lest any sally should be made suddenly; and by night the same were occupied by watches and strong guards. LXX.-The work having been begun, a cavalry action ensues in that plain, which we have already described as broken by hills, and extending three miles in length. The contest is maintained on both sides with the utmost vigour; Caesar sends the Germans to aid our troops when distressed, and draws up the legions in front of the camp, lest any sally should be suddenly made by the enemy's infantry. The courage of our men is increased by the additional support of the legions; the enemy being put to flight, hinder one another by their numbers, and as only the narrower gates were left open, are crowded together in them; then the Germans pursue them with vigour even to the fortifications. A great slaughter ensues; some leave their horses, and endeavour to cross the ditch and climb the wall. Caesar orders the legions which he had drawn up in front of the rampart to advance a little. The Gauls, who were within the fortifications, were no less panic-stricken, thinking that the enemy were coming that moment against them, and unanimously shout "to arms;" some in their alarm rush into the town; Vercingetorix orders the gates to be shut, lest the camp should be left undefended. The Germans retreat, after slaying many and taking several horses. LXXI.--Vercingetorix adopts the design of sending away all his cavalry by night, before the fortifications should be completed by the Romans. He charges them when departing "that each of them should go to his respective state, and press for the war all who were old enough to bear arms; he states his own Merits, and conjures them to consider his safety, and not surrender him, who had deserved so well of the general freedom, to the enemy for torture; he points out to them that, if they should be remiss, eighty thousand chosen men would perish with him; that, upon making a calculation, he had barely corn for thirty days, but could hold out a little longer by economy." After giving these instructions he silently dismisses the cavalry in the second watch, [on that side] where our works were not completed; he orders all the corn to be brought to himself; he ordains capital punishment to such as should not obey; he distributes among them, man by man, the cattle, great quantities of which had been driven there by the Mandubii; he began to measure out the corn sparingly, and by little and little; he receives into the town all the forces which he had posted in front of it. In this manner he prepares to await the succours from Gaul, and carry on the war. LXXII.--Caesar, on learning these proceedings from the deserters and captives, adopted the following system of fortification; he dug a trench twenty feet deep, with perpendicular sides, in such a manner that the base of this trench should extend so far as the edges were apart at the top. He raised all his other works at a distance of four hundred feet from that ditch; [he did] that with this intention, lest (since he necessarily embraced so extensive an area, and the whole works could not be easily surrounded by a line of soldiers) a large number of the enemy should suddenly, or by night, sally against the fortifications; or lest they should by day cast weapons against our men while occupied with the works. Having left this interval, he drew two trenches fifteen feet broad, and of the same depth; the innermost of them, being in low and level ground, he filled with water conveyed from the river. Behind these he raised a rampart and wall twelve feet high: to this he added a parapet and battlements, with large stakes cut like stags' horns, projecting from the junction of the parapet and battlements, to prevent the enemy from scaling it, and surrounded the entire work with turrets, which were eighty feet distant from one another. LXXIII.--It was necessary, at one and the same time, to procure timber [for the rampart], lay in supplies of corn, and raise also extensive fortifications, and the available troops were in consequence of this reduced in number, since they used to advance to some distance from the camp, and sometimes the Gauls endeavoured to attack our works, and to make a sally from the town by several gates and in great force. On which Caesar thought that further additions should be made to these works, in order that the fortifications might be defensible by a small number of soldiers. Having, therefore, cut down the trunks of trees or very thick branches, and having stripped their tops of the bark, and sharpened them into a point, he drew a continued trench everywhere five feet deep. These stakes being sunk into this trench, and fastened firmly at the bottom, to prevent the possibility of their being torn up, had their branches only projecting from the ground. There were five rows in connection with, and intersecting each other; and whoever entered within them were likely to impale themselves on very sharp stakes. The soldiers called these "cippi." Before these, which were arranged in oblique rows in the form of a quincunx, pits three feet deep were dug, which gradually diminished in depth to the bottom. In these pits tapering stakes, of the thickness of a man's thigh, sharpened at the top and hardened in the fire, were sunk in such a manner as to project from the ground not more than four inches; at the same time for the purpose of giving them strength and stability, they were each filled with trampled clay to the height of one foot from the bottom: the rest of the pit was covered over with osiers and twigs, to conceal the deceit. Eight rows of this kind were dug, and were three feet distant from each other. They called this a lily from its resemblance to that flower. Stakes a foot long, with iron hooks attached to them, were entirely sunk in the ground before these, and were planted in every place at small intervals; these they called spurs. LXXIV.--After completing these works, having selected as level ground as he could, considering the nature of the country, and having enclosed an area of fourteen miles, he constructed, against an external enemy, fortifications of the same kind in every respect, and separate from these, so that the guards of the fortifications could not be surrounded even by immense numbers, if such a circumstance should take place owing to the departure of the enemy's cavalry; and in order that the Roman soldiers might not be compelled to go out of the camp with great risk, he orders all to provide forage and corn for thirty days. LXXV.--Whilst those things are carried on at Alesia, the Gauls, having convened a council of their chief nobility, determine that all who could bear arms should not be called out, which was the opinion of Vercingetorix, but that a fixed number should be levied from each state; lest, when so great a multitude assembled together, they could neither govern nor distinguish their men, nor have the means of supplying them with corn. They demand thirty-five thousand men from the Aedui and their dependents, the Segusiani, Ambivareti, and Aulerci Brannovices; an equal number from the Arverni in conjunction with the Eleuteti Cadurci, Gabali, and Velauni, who were accustomed to be under the command of the Arverni; twelve thousand each from the Senones, Sequani, Bituriges, Santones, Ruteni, and Carnutes; ten thousand from the Bellovaci; the same number from the Lemovici; eight thousand each from the Pictones, and Turoni, and Parisii, and Helvii; five thousand each from the Suessiones, Ambiani, Mediomatrici, Petrocorii, Nervii, Morini, and Nitiobriges; the same number from the Aulerci Cenomani; four thousand from the Atrebates; three thousand each from the Bellocassi, Lexovii, and Aulerci Eburovices; thirty thousand from the Rauraci, and Boii; six thousand, from all the states together which border on the Atlantic, and which in their dialect are called Armoricae (in which number are comprehended the Curisolites, Rhedones, Ambibari, Caltes, Osismii, Lemovices, Veneti, and Unelli). Of these the Bellovaci did not contribute their number, as they said that they would wage war against the Romans on their own account, and at their own discretion, and would not obey the order of any one: however, at the request of Commius, they sent two thousand, in consideration of a tie of hospitality which subsisted between him and them. LXXVI.--Caesar had, as we have previously narrated, availed himself of the faithful and valuable services of this Commius, in Britain, in former years: in consideration of which merits he had exempted from taxes his [Commius's] state, and had conferred on Commius himself the country of the Morini. Yet such was the unanimity of the Gauls in asserting their freedom, and recovering their ancient renown in war, that they were influenced neither by favours, nor by the recollection of private friendship; and all earnestly directed their energies and resources to that war, and collected eight thousand cavalry, and about two hundred and forty thousand infantry. These were reviewed in the country of the Aedui, and a calculation was made of their numbers: commanders were appointed: the supreme command is entrusted to Commius the Atrebatian, Viridomarus and Eporedorix the Aeduans, and Vergasillaunus the Arvernian, the cousin-german of Vercingetorix. To them are assigned men selected from each state, by whose advice the war should be conducted. All march to Alesia, sanguine and full of confidence: nor was there a single individual who imagined that the Romans could withstand the sight of such an immense host: especially in an action carried on both in front and rear, when [on the inside] the besieged would sally from the town and attack the enemy, and on the outside so great forces of cavalry and infantry would be seen. LXXVII.--But those who were blockaded at Alesia, the day being past on which they had expected auxiliaries from their countrymen, and all their corn being consumed, ignorant of what was going on among the Aedui, convened an assembly and deliberated on the exigency of their situation. After various opinions had been expressed among them, some of which proposed a surrender, others a sally, whilst their strength would support it, the speech of Critognatus ought not to be omitted for its singular and detestable cruelty. He sprung from the noblest family among the Arverni, and possessing great influence, says, "I shall pay no attention to the opinion of those who call a most disgraceful surrender by the name of a capitulation; nor do I think that they ought to be considered as citizens, or summoned to the council. My business is with those who approve of a sally: in whose advice the memory of our ancient prowess seems to dwell in the opinion of you all. To be unable to bear privation for a short time is disgraceful cowardice, not true valour. Those who voluntarily offer themselves to death are more easily found than those who would calmly endure distress. And I would approve of this opinion (for honour is a powerful motive with me), could I foresee no other loss, save that of life: but let us, in adopting our design, look back on all Gaul, which we have stirred up to our aid. What courage do you think would our relatives and friends have, if eighty thousand men were butchered in one spot, supposing that they should be forced to come to an action almost over our corpses? Do not utterly deprive them of your aid, for they have spurned all thoughts of personal danger on account of your safety; nor by your folly, rashness, and cowardice, crush all Gaul and doom it to an eternal slavery. Do you doubt their fidelity and firmness because they have not come at the appointed day? What then? Do you suppose that the Romans are employed every day in the outer fortifications for mere amusement? If you cannot be assured by their despatches, since every avenue is blocked up, take the Romans as evidence that their approach is drawing near; since they, intimidated by alarm at this, labour night and day at their works. What, therefore, is my design? To do as our ancestors did in the war against the Cimbri and Teutones, which was by no means equally momentous; who, when driven into their towns, and oppressed by similar privations, supported life by the corpses of those who appeared useless for war on account of their age, and did not surrender to the enemy: and even if we had not a precedent for such cruel conduct, still I should consider it most glorious that one should be established, and delivered to posterity. For in what was that war like this? The Cimbri, after laying Gaul waste, and inflicting great calamities, at length departed from our country, and sought other lands; they left us our rights, laws, lands, and liberty. But what other motive or wish have the Romans, than, induced by envy, to settle in the lands and states of those whom they have learned by fame to be noble and powerful in war, and impose on them perpetual slavery? For they never have carried on wars on any other terms. But if you know not these things which are going on in distant countries, look to the neighbouring Gaul, which being reduced to the form of a province, stripped of its rights and laws, and subjected to Roman despotism, is oppressed by perpetual slavery." LXXVIII.--When different opinions were expressed, they determined that those who, owing to age or ill health, were unserviceable for war, should depart from the town, and that themselves should try every expedient before they had recourse to the advice of Critognatus: however, that they would rather adopt that design, if circumstances should compel them and their allies should delay, than accept any terms of a surrender or peace. The Mandubii, who had admitted them into the town, are compelled to go forth with their wives and children. When these came to the Roman fortifications, weeping, they begged of the soldiers by every entreaty to receive them as slaves and relieve them with food. But Caesar, placing guards on the rampart, forbade them to be admitted. LXXIX.--In the meantime, Commius and the rest of the leaders, to whom the supreme command had been intrusted, came with all their forces to Alesia, and having occupied the entire hill, encamp not more than a mile from our fortifications. The following day, having led forth their cavalry from the camp, they fill all that plain, which, we have related, extended three miles in length, and draw out their infantry a little from that place, and post them on the higher ground. The town Alesia commanded a view of the whole plain. The besieged run together when these auxiliaries were seen; mutual congratulations ensue, and the minds of all are elated with joy. Accordingly, drawing out their troops, they encamp before the town, and cover the nearest trench with hurdles and fill it up with earth, and make ready for a sally and every casualty. LXXX.--Caesar, having stationed his army on both sides of the fortifications, in order that, if occasion should arise, each should hold and know his own post, orders the cavalry to issue forth from the camp and commence action. There was a commanding view from the entire camp, which occupied a ridge of hills; and the minds of all the soldiers anxiously awaited the issue of the battle. The Gauls had scattered archers and light-armed infantry here and there, among their cavalry, to give relief to their retreating troops, and sustain the impetuosity of our cavalry. Several of our soldiers were unexpectedly wounded by these, and left the battle. When the Gauls were confident that their countrymen were the conquerors in the action, and beheld our men hard pressed by numbers, both those who were hemmed in by the line of circumvallation and those who had come to aid them, supported the spirits of their men by shouts and yells from every quarter. As the action was carried on in sight of all, neither a brave nor cowardly act could be concealed; both the desire of praise and the fear of ignominy, urged on each party to valour. After fighting from noon almost to sunset, without victory inclining in favour of either, the Germans, on one side, made a charge against the enemy in a compact body, and drove them back; and, when they were put to flight, the archers were surrounded and cut to pieces. In other parts, likewise, our men pursued to the camp the retreating enemy, and did not give them an opportunity of rallying. But those who had come forth from Alesia returned into the town dejected and almost despairing of success. LXXXI.--The Gauls, after the interval of a day, and after making, during that time, an immense number of hurdles, scaling ladders, and iron hooks, silently went forth from the camp at midnight and approached the fortifications in the plain. Raising a shout suddenly, that by this intimation those who were besieged in the town might learn their arrival, they began to cast down hurdles and dislodge our men from the rampart by slings, arrows, and stones, and executed the other movements which are requisite in storming. At the same time, Vercingetorix having heard the shout, gives the signal to his troops by a trumpet, and leads them forth from the town. Our troops, as each man's post had been assigned him some days before, man the fortifications; they intimidate the Gauls by slings, large stones, stakes which they had placed along the works, and bullets. All view being prevented by the darkness, many wounds are received on both sides; several missiles are thrown from the engines. But Marcus Antonius, and Caius Trebonius, the lieutenants, to whom the defence of these parts had been allotted, draughted troops from the redoubts which were more remote, and sent them to aid our troops, in whatever direction they understood that they were hard pressed. LXXXII.--Whilst the Gauls were at a distance from the fortification, they did more execution, owing to the immense number of their weapons: after they came nearer, they either unawares empaled themselves on the spurs, or were pierced by the mural darts from the ramparts and towers, and thus perished. After receiving many wounds on all sides, and having forced no part of the works, when day drew nigh, fearing lest they should be surrounded by a sally made from the higher camp on the exposed flank, they retreated to their countrymen. But those within, whilst they bring forward those things which had been prepared by Vercingetorix for a sally, fill up the nearest trenches; having delayed a long time in executing these movements, they learned the retreat of their countrymen before they drew nigh to the fortifications. Thus they returned to the town without accomplishing their object. LXXXIII.--The Gauls, having been twice repulsed with great loss, consult what they should do: they avail themselves of the information of those who were well acquainted with the country; from them they ascertain the position and fortification of the upper camp. There was, on the north side, a hill, which our men could not include in their works, on account of the extent of the circuit, and had necessarily made their camp in ground almost disadvantageous, and pretty steep. Caius Antistius Reginus, and Caius Caninius Rebilus, two of the lieutenants, with two legions, were in possession of this camp. The leaders of the enemy, having reconnoitred the country by their scouts, select from the entire army sixty thousand men; belonging to those states which bear the highest character for courage: they privately arrange among themselves what they wished to be done, and in what manner; they decide that the attack should take place when it should seem to be noon. They appoint over their forces Vergasillaunus, the Arvernian, one of the four generals, and a near relative of Vercingetorix. He, having issued from the camp at the first watch, and having almost completed his march a little before the dawn, hid himself behind the mountain, and ordered his soldiers to refresh themselves after their labour during the night. When noon now seemed to draw nigh, he marched hastily against that camp which we have mentioned before; and, at the same time, the cavalry began to approach the fortifications in the plain, and the rest of the forces to make a demonstration in front of the camp. LXXXIV.--Vercingetorix, having beheld his countrymen from the citadel of Alesia, issues forth from the town; he brings forth from the camp long hooks, movable pent-houses, mural hooks, and other things, which he had prepared for the purpose of making a sally. They engage on all sides at once, and every expedient is adopted. They flocked to whatever part of the works seemed weakest. The army of the Romans is distributed along their extensive lines, and with difficulty meets the enemy in every quarter. The shouts which were raised by the combatants in their rear, had a great tendency to intimidate our men, because they perceived that their danger rested on the valour of others: for generally all evils which are distant most powerfully alarm men's minds. LXXXV.--Caesar, having selected a commanding situation, sees distinctly whatever is going on in every quarter, and sends assistance to his troops when hard pressed. The idea uppermost in the minds of both parties is, that the present is the time in which they would have the fairest opportunity of making a struggle; the Gauls despairing of all safety, unless they should succeed in forcing the lines: the Romans expecting an end to all their labours if they should gain the day. The principal struggle is at the upper lines, to which, we have said, Vergasillaunus was sent. The least elevation of ground, added to a declivity, exercises a momentous influence. Some are casting missiles, others, forming a testudo, advance to the attack; fresh men by turns relieve the wearied. The earth, heaped up by all against the fortifications, gives the means of ascent to the Gauls, and covers those works which the Romans had concealed in the ground. Our men have no longer arms or strength. LXXXVI.--Caesar, on observing these movements, sends Labienus with six cohorts to relieve his distressed soldiers: he orders him, if he should be unable to withstand them, to draw off the cohorts and make a sally; but not to do this except through necessity. He himself goes to the rest, and exhorts them not to succumb to the toil; he shows them that the fruits of all former engagements depend on that day and hour. The Gauls within, despairing of forcing the fortifications in the plains on account of the greatness of the works, attempt the places precipitous in ascent: hither they bring the engines which they had prepared; by the immense number of their missiles they dislodge the defenders from the turrets: they fill the ditches with clay and hurdles, then clear the way; they tear down the rampart and breast-work with hooks. LXXXVII.--Caesar sends at first young Brutus, with six cohorts, and afterwards Caius Fabius, his lieutenant, with seven others: finally, as they fought more obstinately, he leads up fresh men to the assistance of his soldiers. After renewing the action, and repulsing the enemy, he marches in the direction in which he had sent Labienus, drafts four cohorts from the nearest redoubt, and orders part of the cavalry to follow him, and part to make the circuit of the external fortifications and attack the enemy in the rear. Labienus, when neither the ramparts or ditches could check the onset of the enemy, informs Caesar by messengers of what he intended to do. Caesar hastens to share in the action. LXXXVIII.--His arrival being known from the colour of his robe, and the troops of cavalry, and the cohorts which he had ordered to follow him being seen, as these low and sloping grounds were plainly visible from the eminences, the enemy join battle. A shout being raised by both sides, it was succeeded by a general shout along the ramparts and whole line of fortifications. Our troops, laying aside their javelins, carry on the engagement with their swords. The cavalry is suddenly seen in the rear of the Gauls: the other cohorts advance rapidly; the enemy turn their backs; the cavalry intercept them in their flight, and a great slaughter ensues. Sedulius the general and chief of the Lemovices is slain; Vergasillaunus, the Arvernian, is taken alive in the flight, seventy-four military standards are brought to Caesar, and few out of so great a number return safe to their camp. The besieged, beholding from the town the slaughter and flight of their countrymen, despairing of safety, lead back their troops from the fortifications. A flight of the Gauls from their camp immediately ensues on hearing of this disaster, and had not the soldiers been wearied by sending frequent reinforcements, and the labour of the entire day, all the enemy's forces could have been destroyed. Immediately after midnight, the cavalry are sent out and overtake the rear, a great number are taken or cut to pieces, the rest by flight escape in different directions to their respective states. Vercingetorix, having convened a council the following day, declares, "That he had undertaken that war, not on account of his own exigencies, but on account of the general freedom; and since he must yield to fortune, he offered himself to them for either purpose, whether they should wish to atone to the Romans by his death, or surrender him alive." Ambassadors are sent to Caesar on this subject. He orders their arms to be surrendered, and their chieftains delivered up. He seated himself at the head of the lines in front of the camp, the Gallic chieftains are brought before him. They surrender Vercingetorix, and lay down their arms. Reserving the Aedui and Arverni, [to try] if he could gain over, through their influence, their respective states, he distributes one of the remaining captives to each soldier, throughout the entire army, as plunder. XC.--After making these arrangements, he marches into the [country of the] Aedui, and recovers that state. To this place ambassadors are sent by the Arverni, who promise that they will execute his commands. He demands a great number of hostages. He sends the legions to winter quarters; he restores about twenty thousand captives to the Aedui and Arverni; he orders Titus Labienus to march into the [country of the] Sequani with two legions and the cavalry, and to him he attaches Marcus Sempronius Rutilus; he places Caius Fabius, and Lucius Minucius Basilus, with two legions in the country of the Remi, lest they should sustain any loss from the Bellovaci in their neighbourhood. He sends Caius Antistius Reginus into the [country of the] Ambivareti, Titus Sextius into the territories of the Bituriges, and Caius Caninius Rebilus into those of the Ruteni, with one legion each. He stations Quintus Tullius Cicero, and Publius Sulpicius among the Aedui at Cabillo and Matisco on the Saone, to procure supplies of corn. He himself determines to winter at Bibracte. A supplication of twenty days is decreed by the senate at Rome, on learning these successes from Caesar's despatches. BOOK VIII CONTINUATION OF CAESAR'S GALLIC WAR ASCRIBED TO AULUS HIRTIUS PREFACE Prevailed on by your continued solicitations, Balbus, I have engaged in a most difficult task, as my daily refusals appear to plead not my inability, but indolence, as an excuse. I have compiled a continuation of the Commentaries of our Caesar's Wars in Gaul, not indeed to be compared to his writings, which either precede or follow them; and recently, I have completed what he left imperfect after the transactions in Alexandria, to the end, not indeed of the civil broils, to which we see no issue, but of Caesar's life. I wish that those who may read them could know how unwillingly I undertook to write them, as then I might the more readily escape the imputation of folly and arrogance, in presuming to intrude among Caesar's writings. For it is agreed on all hands, that no composition was ever executed with so great care, that it is not exceeded in elegance by these Commentaries, which were published for the use of historians, that they might not want memoirs of such achievements; and they stand so high in the esteem of all men, that historians seem rather deprived of than furnished with materials. At which we have more reason to be surprised than other men; for they can only appreciate the elegance and correctness with which he finished them, while we know with what ease and expedition. Caesar possessed not only an uncommon flow of language and elegance of style, but also a thorough knowledge of the method of conveying his ideas. But I had not even the good fortune to share in the Alexandrian or African war; and though these were partly communicated to me by Caesar himself, in conversation, yet we listen with a different degree of attention to those things which strike us with admiration by their novelty, and those which we design to attest to posterity. But, in truth, whilst I urge every apology, that I may not be compared to Caesar, I incur the charge of vanity, by thinking it possible that I can in the judgment of any one be put in competition with him. Farewell. I.--Gaul being entirely reduced, when Caesar having waged war incessantly during the former summer, wished to recruit his soldiers after so much fatigue, by repose in winter quarters, news was brought him that several states were simultaneously renewing their hostile intentions, and forming combinations. For which a probable reason was assigned: namely, that the Gauls were convinced that they were not able to resist the Romans with any force they could collect in one place; and hoped that if several states made war in different places at the same time, the Roman army would neither have aid, nor time, nor forces, to prosecute them all: nor ought any single state to decline any inconveniences that might befall them, provided that by such delay the rest should be enabled to assert their liberty. II.--That this notion might not be confirmed among the Gauls, Caesar left Marcus Antonius, his quaestor, in charge of his quarters, and set out himself with a guard of horse, the day before the kalends of January, from the town Bibracte, to the thirteenth legion, which he had stationed in the country of the Bituriges, not far from the territories of the Aedui, and joined to it the eleventh legion which was next it. Leaving two cohorts to guard the baggage, he leads the rest of his army into the most plentiful part of the country of the Bituriges; who, possessing an extensive territory and several towns, were not to be deterred, by a single legion quartered among them, from making warlike preparation, and forming combinations. III.-By Caesar's sudden arrival, it happened, as it necessarily must, to an unprovided and dispersed people, that they were surprised by our horse, whilst cultivating the fields without any apprehensions, before they had time to fly to their towns. For the usual sign of an enemy's invasion, which is generally intimated by the burning of their towns, was forbidden by Caesar's orders: lest if he advanced far, forage and corn should become scarce, or the enemy be warned by the fires to make their escape. Many thousands being taken, as many of the Bituriges as were able to escape the first coming of the Romans, fled to the neighbouring states, relying either on private friendship, or public alliance. In vain; for Caesar, by hasty marches, anticipated them in every place, nor did he allow any state leisure to consider the safety of others, in preference to their own. By this activity, he both retained his friends in their loyalty, and by fear, obliged the wavering to accept offers of peace. Such offers being made to the Bituriges, when they perceived that through Caesar's clemency, an avenue was open to his friendship, and that the neighbouring states had given hostages, without incurring any punishment, and had been received under his protection, they did the same. IV.-Caesar promises his soldiers, as a reward for their labour and patience, in cheerfully submitting to hardships from the severity of the winter, the difficulty of the roads, and the intolerable cold, two hundred sestertii each, and to every centurian two thousand, to be given instead of plunder; and sending his legions back to quarters, he himself returned on the fortieth day to Bibracte. Whilst he was dispensing justice there, the Bituriges send ambassadors to him, to entreat his aid against the Carnutes, who they complained had made war against them. Upon this intelligence, though he had not remained more than eighteen days in winter quarters, he draws the fourteenth and sixth legion out of quarters on the Saone, where he had posted them as mentioned in a former Commentary to procure supplies of corn. With these two legions he marches in pursuit of the Carnutes. V.--When the news of the approach of our army reached the enemy, the Carnutes, terrified by the sufferings of other states, deserted their villages and towns (which were small buildings, raised in a hurry, to meet the immediate necessity, in which they lived to shelter themselves against the winter, for, being lately conquered, they had lost several towns), and dispersed and fled. Caesar, unwilling to expose his soldiers to the violent storms that break out, especially at that season, took up his quarters at Genabum, a town of the Carnutes; and lodged his men in houses, partly belonging to the Gauls, and partly built to shelter the tents, and hastily covered with thatch. But the horse and auxiliaries he sends to all parts to which he was told the enemy had marched; and not without effect, as our men generally returned loaded with booty. The Carnutes, overpowered by the severity of the winter, and the fear of danger, and not daring to continue long in any place, as they were driven from their houses, and not finding sufficient protection in the woods, from the violence of the storms, after losing a considerable number of their men, disperse, and take refuge among the neighbouring states. VI.--Caesar, being contented, at so severe a season, to disperse the gathering foes, and prevent any new war from breaking out, and being convinced, as far as reason could foresee, that no war of consequence could be set on foot in the summer campaign, stationed Caius Trebonius, with the two legions which he had with him, in quarters at Genabum: and being informed by frequent embassies from the Remi, that the Bellovaci (who exceed all the Gauls and Belgae in military prowess), and the neighbouring states, headed by Correus, one of the Bellovaci, and Comius, the Atrebatian, were raising an army, and assembling at a general rendezvous, designing with their united forces to invade the territories of the Suessiones, who were put under the patronage of the Remi: and moreover, considering that not only his honour, but his interest was concerned, that such of his allies, as deserved well of the republic, should suffer no calamity; he again draws the eleventh legion out of quarters and writes besides to Caius Fabius, to march with his two legions to the country of the Suessiones; and he sends to Trebonius for one of his two legions. Thus, as far as the convenience of the quarters, and the management of the war admitted, he laid the burden of the expedition on the legions by turns, without any intermission to his own toils. VII.--As soon as his troops were collected, he marched against the Bellovaci: and pitching his camp in their territories, detached troops of horse all round the country, to take prisoners, from whom he might learn the enemy's plan. The horse, having executed his orders, bring him back word that but few were found in the houses: and that even these had not stayed at home to cultivate their lands (for the emigration was general from all parts), but had been sent back to watch our motions. Upon Caesar's inquiring from them, where the main body of the Bellovaci were posted, and what was their design: they made answer, "that all the Bellovaci, fit for carrying arms, had assembled in one place, and along with them the Ambiani, Aulerci, Caletes, Velocasses, and Atrebates, and that they had chosen for their camp an elevated position, surrounded by a dangerous morass: that they had conveyed all their baggage into the most remote woods: that several noblemen were united in the management of the war; but that the people were most inclined to be governed by Correus, because they knew that he had the strongest aversion to the name of the Roman people: that a few days before Comius had left the camp to engage the Germans to their aid whose nation bordered on theirs, and whose numbers were countless: that the Bellovaci had come to a resolution, with the consent of all the generals and the earnest desire of the people, if Caesar should come with only three legions, as was reported, to give him battle, that they might not be obliged to encounter his whole army on a future occasion, when they should be in a more wretched and distressed condition; but if he brought a stronger force, they intended to remain in the position they had chosen, and by ambuscade to prevent the Romans from getting forage (which at that season was both scarce and much scattered), corn, and other necessaries." VIII.--When Caesar was convinced of the truth of this account from the concurring testimony of several persons, and perceived that the plans which were proposed were full of prudence, and very unlike the rash resolves of a barbarous people, he considered it incumbent on him to use every exertion, in order that the enemy might despise his small force and come to an action. For he had three veteran legions of distinguished valour, the seventh, eighth, and ninth. The eleventh consisted of chosen youth of great hopes, who had served eight campaigns, but who, compared with the others, had not yet acquired any great reputation for experience and valour. Calling therefore a council, and laying before it the intelligence which he had received, he encouraged his soldiers. In order if possible to entice the enemy to an engagement by the appearance of only three legions, he ranged his army in the following manner: that the seventh, eighth, and ninth legions should march before all the baggage; that then the eleventh should bring up the rear of the whole train of baggage (which however was but small, as is usual on such expeditions), so that the enemy could not get a sight of a greater number than they themselves were willing to encounter. By this disposition he formed his army almost into a square, and brought them within sight of the enemy sooner than was anticipated. IX.--When the Gauls, whose bold resolutions had been reported to Caesar, saw the legions advance with a regular motion, drawn up in battle array; either from the danger of an engagement, or our sudden approach, or with the design of watching our movements, they drew up their forces before the camp, and did not quit the rising ground. Though Caesar wished to bring them to battle, yet being surprised to see so vast a host of the enemy, he encamped opposite to them, with a valley between them, deep rather than extensive. He ordered his camp to be fortified with a rampart twelve feet high, with breast-works built on it proportioned to its height; and two trenches, each fifteen feet broad, with perpendicular sides to be sunk: likewise several turrets, three stories high, to be raised, with a communication to each other by galleries laid across and covered over; which should be guarded in front by small parapets of osiers; that the enemy might be repulsed by two rows of soldiers. The one of whom, being more secure from danger by their height, might throw their darts with more daring and to a greater distance; the other, which was nearer the enemy, being stationed on the rampart, would be protected by their galleries from darts falling on their heads. At the entrance he erected gates and turrets of a considerable height. X.-Caesar had a double design in this fortification; for he both hoped that the strength of his works, and his [apparent] fears would raise confidence in the barbarians; and when there should be occasion to make a distant excursion to get forage or corn, he saw that his camp would be secured by the works with a very small force. In the meantime there were frequent skirmishes across the marsh, a few on both sides sallying out between the two camps. Sometimes, however, our Gallic or German auxiliaries crossed the marsh, and furiously pursued the enemy; or on the other hand the enemy passed it and beat back our men. Moreover there happened in the course of our daily foraging, what must of necessity happen, when corn is to be collected by a few scattered men out of private houses, that our foragers dispersing in an intricate country were surrounded by the enemy; by which, though we suffered but an inconsiderable loss of cattle and servants, yet it raised foolish hopes in the barbarians; but more especially, because Comius, who I said had gone to get aid from the Germans, returned with some cavalry, and though the Germans were only 500, yet the barbarians were elated by their arrival. XI.-Caesar, observing that the enemy kept for several days within their camp, which was well secured by a morass and its natural situation, and that it could not be assaulted without a dangerous engagement, nor the place enclosed with lines without an addition to his army, wrote to Trebonius to send with all despatch for the thirteenth legion which was in winter-quarters among the Bituriges under Titus Sextius, one of his lieutenants; and then to come to him by forced marches with the three legions. He himself sent the cavalry of the Remi, and Lingones, and other states, from whom he had required a vast number, to guard his foraging parties, and to support them in case of any sudden attack of the enemy. XII.--As this continued for several days, and their vigilance was relaxed by custom (an effect which is generally produced by time), the Bellovaci, having made themselves acquainted with the daily stations of our horse, lie in ambush with a select body of foot in a place covered with woods; to it they sent their horse the next day, who were first to decoy our men into the ambuscade, and then when they were surrounded, to attack them. It was the lot of the Remi to fall into this snare, to whom that day had been allotted to perform this duty; for, having suddenly got sight of the enemy's cavalry, and despising their weakness, in consequence of their superior numbers, they pursued them too eagerly, and were surrounded on every side by the foot. Being by this means thrown into disorder they returned with more precipitation than is usual in cavalry actions, with the loss of Vertiscus, the governor of their state, and the general of their horse, who, though scarcely able to sit on horseback through years, neither, in accordance with the custom of the Gauls, pleaded his age in excuse for not accepting the command, nor would he suffer them to fight without him. The spirits of the barbarians were puffed up and inflated at the success of this battle, in killing the prince and general of the Remi; and our men were taught by this loss, to examine the country, and post their guards with more caution, and to be more moderate in pursuing a retreating enemy. XIII.--In the meantime daily skirmishes take place continually in view of both camps; these were fought at the ford and pass of the morass. In one of these contests the Germans, whom Caesar had brought over the Rhine, to fight intermixed with the horse, having resolutely crossed the marsh, and slain the few who made resistance, and boldly pursued the rest, so terrified them, that not only those who were attacked hand to hand, or wounded at a distance, but even those who were stationed at a greater distance to support them, fled disgracefully; and being often beaten from the rising grounds, did not stop till they had retired into their camp, or some, impelled by fear, had fled farther. Their danger drew their whole army into such confusion, that it was difficult to judge whether they were more insolent after a slight advantage, or more dejected by a trifling calamity. XIV.--After spending several days in the same camp, the guards of the Bellovaci, learning that Caius Trebonius was advancing nearer with his legions, and fearing a siege like that of Alesia, send off by night all who were disabled by age or infirmity, or unarmed, and along with them their whole baggage. Whilst they are preparing their disorderly and confused troop for march (for the Gauls are always attended by a vast multitude of waggons, even when they have very light baggage), being overtaken by daylight, they drew their forces out before their camp, to prevent the Romans attempting a pursuit before the line of their baggage had advanced to a considerable distance. But Caesar did not think it prudent to attack them when standing on their defence, with such a steep hill in their favour, nor keep his legions at such a distance that they could quit their post without danger: but, perceiving that his camp was divided from the enemy's by a deep morass, so difficult to cross that he could not pursue with expedition, and that the hill beyond the morass, which extended almost to the enemy's camp, was separated from it only by a small valley, he laid a bridge over the morass and led his army across, and soon reached the plain on the top of the hill, which was fortified on either side by a steep ascent. Having there drawn up his army in order of battle, he marched to the furthest hill, from which he could, with his engines, shower darts upon the thickest of the enemy. XV.--The Gauls, confiding in the natural strength of their position, though they would not decline an engagement if the Romans attempted to ascend the hill, yet dared not divide their forces into small parties, lest they should be thrown into disorder by being dispersed, and therefore remained in order of battle. Caesar, perceiving that they persisted in their resolution, kept twenty cohorts in battle array, and, measuring out ground there for a camp, ordered it to be fortified. Having completed his works, he drew up his legions before the rampart and stationed the cavalry in certain positions, with their horses bridled. When the Bellovaci saw the Romans prepared to pursue them, and that they could not wait the whole night, or continue longer in the same place without provisions, they formed the following plan to secure a retreat. They handed to one another the bundles of straw and sticks on which they sat (for it is the custom of the Gauls to sit when drawn up in order of battle, as has been asserted in former commentaries), of which they had great plenty in their camp, and piled them in the front of their line; and at the close of the day, on a certain signal, set them all on fire at one and the same time. The continued blaze soon screened all their forces from the sight of the Romans, which no sooner happened than the barbarians fled with the greatest precipitation. XVI.--Though Caesar could not perceive the retreat of the enemy for the intervention of the fire, yet, suspecting that they had adopted that method to favour their escape, he made his legions advance, and sent a party of horse to pursue them; but, apprehensive of an ambuscade, and that the enemy might remain in the same place and endeavour to draw our men into a disadvantageous situation, he advances himself but slowly. The horse, being afraid to venture into the smoke and dense line of flame, and those who were bold enough to attempt it being scarcely able to see their horses' heads, gave the enemy free liberty to retreat, through fear of an ambuscade. Thus, by a flight, full at once of cowardice and address, they advanced without any loss about ten miles, and encamped in a very strong position. From which, laying numerous ambuscades, both of horse and foot, they did considerable damage to the Roman foragers. XVII.--After this had happened several times, Caesar discovered, from a certain prisoner, that Correus, the general of the Bellovaci, had selected six thousand of his bravest foot and a thousand horse, with which he designed to lie in ambush in a place to which he suspected the Romans would send to look for forage, on account of the abundance of corn and grass. Upon receiving information of their design Caesar drew out more legions than he usually did, and sent forward his cavalry as usual, to protect the foragers. With these he intermixed a guard of light infantry, and himself advanced with the legions as fast as he could. XVIII.--The Gauls, placed in ambush, had chosen for the seat of action a level piece of bound, not more than a mile in extent, enclosed on every side by a thick wood or a very deep river, as by a toil, and this they surrounded. Our men, apprised of the enemy's design, marched in good order to the ground, ready both in heart and hand to give battle, and willing to hazard any engagement when the legions were at their back. On their approach, as Correus supposed that he had got an opportunity of effecting his purpose, he at first shows himself with a small party and attacks the foremost troops. Our men resolutely stood the charge, and did not crowd together in one place, as commonly happens from surprise in engagements between the horse, whose numbers prove injurious to themselves. XIX.--When by the judicious arrangement of our forces only a few of our men fought by turns, and did not suffer themselves to be surrounded, the rest of the enemy broke out from the woods whilst Correus was engaged. The battle was maintained in different parts with great vigour, and continued for a long time undecided, till at length a body of foot gradually advanced from the woods in order of battle and forced our horse to give ground: the light infantry, which were sent before the legions to the assistance of the cavalry, soon came up, and, mixing with the horse, fought with great courage. The battle was for some time doubtful, but, as usually happens, our men, who stood the enemy's first charge, became superior from this very circumstance that, though suddenly attacked from an ambuscade, they had sustained no loss. In the meantime the legions were approaching, and several messengers arrived with notice to our men and the enemy that the [Roman] general was near at hand, with his forces in battle array. Upon this intelligence, our men, confiding in the support of the cohorts, fought most resolutely, fearing, lest if they should be slow in their operations they should let the legions participate in the glory of the conquest. The enemy lose courage and attempt to escape by different ways. In vain; for they were themselves entangled in that labyrinth in which they thought to entrap the Romans. Being defeated and put to the rout, and having lost the greater part of their men, they fled in consternation whither-soever chance carried them; some sought the woods, others the river, but were vigorously pursued by our men and put to the sword. Yet, in the meantime, Correus, unconquered by calamity, could not be prevailed on to quit the field and take refuge in the woods, or accept our offers of quarter, but, fighting courageously and wounding several, provoked our men, elated with victory, to discharge their weapons against him. XX.--After this transaction, Caesar, having come up immediately after the battle, and imagining that the enemy, upon receiving the news of so great a defeat, would be so depressed that they would abandon their camp, which was not above eight miles distant from the scene of action, though he saw his passage obstructed by the river, yet he marched his army over and advanced. But the Bellovaci and the other states, being informed of the loss they had sustained by a few wounded men who having escaped by the shelter of the woods, had returned to them after the defeat, and learning that everything had turned out unfavourable, that Correus was slain, and the horse and most valiant of their foot cut off, imagined that the Romans were marching against them, and calling a council in haste by sound of trumpet, unanimously cry out to send ambassadors and hostages to Caesar. XXI.--This proposal having met with general approbation, Comius the Atrebatian fled to those Germans from whom he had borrowed auxiliaries for that war. The rest instantly send ambassadors to Caesar; and requested that he would be contented with that punishment of his enemy, which if he had possessed the power to inflict on them before the engagement, when they were yet uninjured, they were persuaded from his usual clemency and mercy, he never would have inflicted; that the power of the Bellovaci was crushed by the cavalry action; that many thousands of their choicest foot had fallen, that scarce a man had escaped to bring the fatal news. That, however, the Bellovaci had derived from the battle one advantage, of some importance, considering their loss; that Correus, the author of the rebellion, and agitator of the people, was slain: for that whilst he lived, the senate had never equal influence in the state with the giddy populace. XXII.--Caesar reminded the ambassadors who made these supplications, that the Bellovaci had at the same season the year before, in conjunction with other states of Gaul, undertaken a war, and that they had persevered the most obstinately of all in their purpose, and were not brought to a proper way of thinking by the submission of the rest; that he knew and was aware that the guilt of a crime was easily transferred to the dead; but that no one person could have such influence, as to be able by the feeble support of the multitude to raise a war and carry it on without the consent of the nobles, in opposition to the senate, and in despite of every virtuous man; however he was satisfied with the punishment which they had drawn upon themselves. XXIII.--The night following the ambassadors bring back his answer to their countrymen, and prepare the hostages. Ambassadors flock in from the other states, which were waiting for the issue of the [war with the] Bellovaci: they give hostages, and receive his orders; all except Comius, whose fears restrained him from entrusting his safety to any person's honour. For the year before, while Caesar was holding the assizes in Hither Gaul, Titus Labienus, having discovered that Comius was tampering with the states, and raising a conspiracy against Caesar, thought he might punish his infidelity without perfidy; but judging that he would not come to his camp at his invitation, and unwilling to put him on his guard by the attempt, he sent Caius Volusenus Quadratus, with orders to have him put to death under pretence of a conference. To effect his purpose, he sent with him some chosen centurions. When they came to the conference, and Volusenus, as had been agreed on, had taken hold of Comius by the hand, and one of the centurions, as if surprised at so uncommon an incident, attempted to kill him, he was prevented by the friends of Comius, but wounded him severely in the head by the first blow. Swords were drawn on both sides, not so much with a design to fight as to effect an escape, our men believing that Comius had received a mortal stroke; and the Gauls, from the treachery which they had seen, dreading that a deeper design lay concealed. Upon this transaction, it was said that Comius made a resolution never to come within sight of any Roman. XXIV.--When Caesar, having completely conquered the most warlike nations, perceived that there was now no state which could make preparations for war to oppose him, but that some were removing and fleeing from their country to avoid present subjection, he resolved to detach his army into different parts of the country. He kept with himself Marcus Antonius the quaestor, with the eleventh legion; Caius Fabius was detached with twenty-five cohorts into the remotest part of Gaul, because it was rumoured that some states had risen in arms, and he did not think that Caius Caninius Rebilus, who had the charge of that country, was strong enough to protect it with two legions. He ordered Titus Labienus to attend himself, and sent the twelfth legion which had been under him in winter quarters, to Hither Gaul, to protect the Roman colonies, and prevent any loss by the inroads of barbarians, similar to that which had happened the year before to the Tergestines, who were cut off by a sudden depredation and attack. He himself marched to depopulate the country of Ambiorix, whom he had terrified and forced to fly, but despaired of being able to reduce under his power; but he thought it most consistent with his honour to waste his country both of inhabitants, cattle, and buildings, so that from the abhorrence of his countrymen, if fortune suffered any to survive, he might be excluded from a return to his state for the calamities which he had brought on it. XXV.--After he had sent either his legions or auxiliaries through every part of Ambiorix's dominions, and wasted the whole country by sword, fire, and rapine, and had killed or taken prodigious numbers, he sent Labienus with two legions against the Treviri, whose state, from its vicinity to Germany, being engaged in constant war, differed but little from the Germans, in civilization and savage barbarity; and never continued in its allegiance, except when awed by the presence of his army. XXVI.--In the meantime Caius Caninius, a lieutenant, having received information by letters and messages from Duracius, who had always continued in friendship to the Roman people, though a part of his state had revolted, that a great multitude of the enemy were in arms in the country of the Pictones, marched to the town Limonum. When he was approaching it, he was informed by some prisoners, that Duracius was shut up by several thousand men, under the command of Dumnacus, general of the Andes, and that Limonum was besieged, but not daring to face the enemy with his weak legions, he encamped in a strong position: Dumnacus, having notice of Caninius's approach, turned his whole force against the legions, and prepared to assault the Roman camp. But after spending several days in the attempt, and losing a considerable number of men, without being able to make a breach in any part of the works, he returned again to the siege of Limonum. XXVII.--At the same time, Caius Fabius, a lieutenant, brings back many states to their allegiance, and confirms their submission by taking hostages; he was then informed by letters from Caninius, of the proceedings among the Pictones. Upon which he set off to bring assistance to Duracius. But Dumnacus hearing of the approach of Fabius, and despairing of safety, if at the same time he should be forced to withstand the Roman army without, and observe, and be under apprehension from the town's people, made a precipitate retreat from that place with all his forces. Nor did he think that he should be sufficiently secure from danger, unless he led his army across the Loire, which was too deep a river to pass except by a bridge. Though Fabius had not yet come within sight of the enemy, nor joined Caninius; yet being informed of the nature of the country, by persons acquainted with it, he judged it most likely that the enemy would take that way, which he found they did take. He therefore marched to that bridge with his army, and ordered his cavalry to advance no further before the legions, than that they could return to the same camp at night, without fatiguing their horses. Our horse pursued according to orders, and fell upon Dumnacus's rear, and attacking them on their march, while fleeing, dismayed, and laden with baggage, they slew a great number, and took a rich booty. Having executed the affair so successfully, they retired to the camp. XXVIII.--The night following, Fabius sent his horse before him, with orders to engage the enemy, and delay their march till he himself should come up. That his orders might be faithfully performed, Quintus Atius Varus, general of the horse, a man of uncommon spirit and skill, encouraged his men, and pursuing the enemy, disposed some of his troops in convenient places, and with the rest gave battle to the enemy. The enemy's cavalry made a bold stand, the foot relieving each other, and making a general halt, to assist their horse against ours. The battle was warmly contested. For our men, despising the enemy whom they had conquered the day before, and knowing that the legions were following them, animated both by the disgrace of retreating, and a desire of concluding the battle expeditiously by their own courage, fought most valiantly against the foot: and the enemy, imagining that no more forces would come against them, as they had experienced the day before, thought they had got a favourable opportunity of destroying our whole cavalry. XXIX.-After the conflict had continued for some time with great violence, Dumnacus drew out his army in such a manner, that the foot should by turns assist the horse. Then the legions, marching in close order, came suddenly in sight of the enemy. At this sight, the barbarian horse were so astonished, and the foot so terrified, that breaking through the line of baggage, they betook themselves to flight with a loud shout, and in great disorder. But our horse, who a little before had vigorously engaged them, whilst they made resistance, being elated with joy at their victory, raising a shout on every side, poured round them as they ran, and as long as their horses had strength to pursue, or their arms to give a blow, so long did they continue the slaughter of the enemy in that battle, and having killed above twelve thousand men in arms, or such as threw away their arms through fear, they took their whole train of baggage. XXX.--After this defeat, when it was ascertained that Drapes, a Senonian (who in the beginning of the revolt of Gaul, had collected from all quarters men of desperate fortunes, invited the slaves to liberty, called in the exiles of the whole kingdom, given an asylum to robbers, and intercepted the Roman baggage and provisions), was marching to the province with five thousand men, being all he could collect after the defeat, and that Luterius a Cadurcian who, as it has been observed in a former commentary, had designed to make an attack on the Province in the first revolt of Gaul, had formed a junction with him, Caius Caninius went in pursuit of them with two legions, lest great disgrace might be incurred from the fears or injuries done to the Province by the depredations of a band of desperate men. XXXI.--Caius Fabius set off with the rest of the army to the Carnutes and those other states, whose forces he was informed had served as auxiliaries in that battle, which he fought against Dumnacus. For he had no doubt that they would be more submissive after their recent sufferings, but if respite and time were given them, they might be easily excited by the earnest solicitations of the same Dumnacus. On this occasion Fabius was extremely fortunate and expeditious in recovering the states. For the Carnutes, who, though often harassed had never mentioned peace, submitted and gave hostages: and the other states, which lie in the remotest parts of Gaul, adjoining the ocean, and which are called Armoricae, influenced by the example of the Carnutes, as soon as Fabius arrived with his legions, without delay comply with his command. Dumnacus, expelled from his own territories, wandering and skulking about, was forced to seek refuge by himself in the most remote parts of Gaul. XXXII.--But Crapes in conjunction with Literius, knowing that Caninius was at hand with the legions, and that they themselves could not without certain destruction enter the boundaries of the province, whilst an army was in pursuit of them, and being no longer at liberty to roam up and down and pillage, halt in the country of the Cadurci, as Luterius had once in his prosperity possessed a powerful influence over the inhabitants, who were his countrymen, and being always the author of new projects, had considerable authority among the barbarians; with his own and Drapes' troops he seized Uxellodunum, a town formerly in vassalage to him and strongly fortified by its natural situation; and prevailed on the inhabitants to join him. XXXIII.--After Caninius had rapidly marched to this place, and perceived that all parts of the town were secured by very craggy rocks, which it would be difficult for men in arms to climb even if they met with no resistance; and, moreover, observing that the town's people were possessed of effects, to a considerable amount, and that if they attempted to convey them away in a clandestine manner, they could not escape our horse, nor even our legions; he divided his forces into three parts, and pitched three camps on very high ground, with the intention of drawing lines round the town by degrees, as his forces could bear the fatigue. XXXIV.--When the townsmen perceived his design, being terrified by the recollection of the distress at Alesia, they began to dread similar consequences from a siege; and above all Luterius, who had experienced that fatal event, cautioned them to make provision of corn; they therefore resolve by general consent to leave part of their troops behind, and set out with their light troops to bring in corn. The scheme having met with approbation, the following night Drapes and Luterius, leaving two thousand men in the garrison, marched out of the town with the rest. After a few days' stay in the country of the Cadurci (some of whom were disposed to assist them with corn, and others were unable to prevent their taking it) they collected a great store. Sometimes also attacks were made on our little forts by sallies at night. For this reason Caninius deferred drawing his works round the whole town, lest he should be unable to protect them when completed, or by disposing his garrisons in several places, should make them too weak. XXXV.--Drapes and Luterius, having laid in a large supply of corn, occupy a position at about ten miles distance from the town, intending from it to convey the corn into the town by degrees. They chose each his respective department. Drapes stayed behind in the camp with part of the army to protect it; Luterius conveys the train with provisions into the town. Accordingly, having disposed guards here and there along the road, about the tenth hour of the night, he set out by narrow paths through the woods, to fetch the corn into the town. But their noise being heard by the sentinels of our camp, and the scouts which we had sent out, having brought an account of what was going on, Caninius instantly with the ready-armed cohorts from the nearest turrets made an attack on the convoy at the break of day. They, alarmed at so unexpected an evil, fled by different ways to their guard: which as soon as our men perceived, they fell with great fury on the escort, and did not allow a single man to be taken alive. Luterius escaped thence with a few followers, but did not return to the camp. XXXVI.--After this success, Caninius learnt from some prisoners, that a part of the forces was encamped with Drapes, not more than ten miles off; which being confirmed by several, supposing that after the defeat of one general, the rest would be terrified, and might be easily conquered, he thought it a most fortunate event that none of the enemy had fled back from the slaughter to the camp, to give Drapes notice of the calamity which had befallen him. And as he could see no danger in making the attempt, he sent forward all his cavalry and the German foot, men of great activity, to the enemy's camp. He divides one legion among the three camps, and takes the other without baggage along with him. When he had advanced near the enemy, he was informed by scouts, which he had sent before him, that the enemy's camp, as is the custom of barbarians, was pitched low, near the banks of a river, and that the higher grounds were unoccupied: but that the German horse had made a sudden attack on them, and had begun the battle. Upon this intelligence, he marched up with his legion, armed and in order of battle. Then, on a signal being suddenly given on every side, our men took possession of the higher grounds. Upon this, the German horse observing the Roman colours, fought with great vigour. Immediately all the cohorts attack them on every side; and having either killed or made prisoners of them all, gained great booty. In that battle, Drapes himself was taken prisoner. XXXVII.--Caninius, having accomplished the business so successfully, without having scarcely a man wounded, returned to besiege the town; and, having destroyed the enemy without, for fear of whom he had been prevented from strengthening his redoubts, and surrounding the enemy with his lines, he orders the work to be completed on every side. The next day, Caius Fabius came to join him with his forces, and took upon him the siege of one side. XXXVIII.--In the meantime, Caesar left Caius Antonius in the country of the Bellovaci, with fifteen cohorts, that the Belgae might have no opportunity of forming new plans in future. He himself visits the other states, demands a great number of hostages, and by his encouraging language allays the apprehensions of all. When he came to the Carnutes, in whose state he has in a former commentary mentioned that the war first broke out; observing, that from a consciousness of their guilt, they seemed to be in the greatest terror: to relieve the state the sooner from its fear, he demanded that Guturvatus, the promoter of that treason, and the instigator of that rebellion, should be delivered up to punishment. And though the latter did not dare to trust his life even to his own countrymen, yet such diligent search was made by them all, that he was soon brought to our camp. Caesar was forced to punish him, by the clamours of the soldiers, contrary to his natural humanity, for they alleged that all the dangers and losses incurred in that war, ought to be imputed to Guturvatus. Accordingly, he was whipped to death, and his head cut off. XXXIX.--Here Caesar was informed by numerous letters from Caninius of what had happened to Drapes and Luterius, and in what conduct the town's people persisted: and though he despised the smallness of their numbers, yet he thought their obstinacy deserving a severe punishment, lest Gaul in general should adopt an idea that she did not want strength but perseverance to oppose the Romans; and lest the other states, relying on the advantage of situation, should follow their example and assert their liberty; especially as he knew that all the Gauls understood that his command was to continue but one summer longer, and if they could hold out for that time, that they would have no further danger to apprehend. He therefore left Quintus Calenus, one of his lieutenants behind him, with two legions, and instructions to follow him by regular marches. He hastened as much as he could with all the cavalry to Caninius. XL.--Having arrived at Uxellodunum, contrary to the general expectation, and perceiving that the town was surrounded by the works, and that the enemy had no possible means of retiring from the assault, and being likewise informed by the deserters that the townsmen had abundance of corn; he endeavoured to prevent their getting water. A river divided the valley below, which almost surrounded the steep craggy mountain on which Uxellodunum was built. The nature of the ground prevented his turning the current; for it ran so low down at the foot of the mountain, that no drains could be sunk deep enough to draw it off in any direction. But the descent to it was so difficult, that if we made opposition, the besieged could neither come to the river, nor retire up the precipice without hazard of their lives. Caesar, perceiving the difficulty, disposed archers and slingers, and in some places, opposite to the easiest descents, placed engines, and attempted to hinder the townsmen from getting water at the river, which obliged them afterwards to go all to one place to procure water. XLI.--Close under the walls of the town, a copious spring gushed out on that part, which for the space of nearly three hundred feet, was not surrounded by the river. Whilst every other person wished that the besieged could be debarred from this spring, Caesar alone saw that it could be effected, though not without great danger. Opposite to it he began to advance the vineae towards the mountain, and to throw up a mound, with great labour and continual skirmishing. For the townsmen ran down from the high ground, and fought without any risk, and wounded several of our men, yet they obstinately pushed on and were not deterred from moving forward the vineae, and from surmounting by their assiduity the difficulties of situation. At the same time they work mines, and move the crates and vineae to the source of the fountain. This was the only work which they could do without danger or suspicion. A mound sixty feet high was raised; on it was erected a turret of ten stories, not with the intention that it should be on a level with the wall (for that could not be effected by any works), but to rise above the top of the spring. When our engines began to play from it upon the paths that led to the fountain, and the townsmen could not go for water without danger, not only the cattle designed for food and the working cattle, but a great number of men also died of thirst. XLII.--Alarmed at this calamity, the townsmen fill barrels with tallow, pitch, and dried wood; these they set on fire, and roll down on our works. At the same time, they fight most furiously, to deter the Romans, by the engagement and danger, from extinguishing the flames. Instantly a great blaze arose in the works. For whatever they threw down the precipice, striking against the vine and agger, communicated the fire to whatever was in the way. Our soldiers on the other hand, though they were engaged in a perilous sort of encounter, and labouring under the disadvantages of position, yet supported all with very great presence of mind. For the action happened in an elevated situation, and in sight of our army; and a great shout was raised on both sides; therefore every man faced the weapons of the enemy and the flames in as conspicuous a manner as he could, that his valour might be the better known and attested. XLIII.--Caesar, observing that several of his men were wounded, ordered the cohorts to ascend the mountain on all sides, and, under pretence of assailing the walls, to raise a shout: at which the besieged being frightened, and not knowing what was going on in other places, call off their armed troops from attacking our works, and dispose them on the walls. Thus our men, without hazarding a battle, gained time partly to extinguish the works which had caught fire, and partly to cut off the communication. As the townsmen still continued to make an obstinate resistance, and even, after losing the greatest part of their forces by drought, persevered in their resolution: At last the veins of the spring were cut across by our mines, and turned from their course. By this their constant spring was suddenly dried up, which reduced them to such despair that they imagined that it was not done by the art of man, but the will of the gods; forced, therefore, by necessity, they at length submitted. XLIV.--Caesar, being convinced that his lenity was known to all men, and being under no fears of being thought to act severely from a natural cruelty, and perceiving that there would be no end to his troubles if several states should attempt to rebel in like manner and in different places, resolved to deter others by inflicting an exemplary punishment on these. Accordingly he cut off the hands of those who had borne arms against him. Their lives he spared, that the punishment of their rebellion might be the more conspicuous. Drapes, who I have said was taken by Caninius, either through indignation and grief arising from his captivity, or through fear of severer punishments, abstained from food for several days, and thus perished. At the same time, Luterius, who, I have related, had escaped from the battle, having fallen into the hands of Epasnactus, an Arvernian (for he frequently changed his quarters, and threw himself on the honour of several persons, as he saw that he dare not remain long in one place, and was conscious how great an enemy he deserved to have in Caesar), was by this Epasnactus, the Arvernian, a sincere friend of the Roman people, delivered without any hesitation, a prisoner to Caesar. XLV.--In the meantime, Labienus engages in a successful cavalry action among the Treviri; and, having killed several of them and of the Germans, who never refused their aid to any person against the Romans, he got their chiefs alive into his power, and, amongst them, Surus, an Aeduan, who was highly renowned both for his valour and birth, and was the only Aeduan that had continued in arms till that time. Caesar, being informed of this, and perceiving that he had met with good success in all parts of Gaul, and reflecting that, in former campaigns, [Celtic] Gaul had been conquered and subdued; but that he had never gone in person to Aquitania, but had made a conquest of it, in some degree, by Marcus Crassus, set out for it with two legions, designing to spend the latter part of the summer there. This affair he executed with his usual despatch and good fortune. For all the states of Aquitania sent ambassadors to him and delivered hostages. These affairs being concluded, he marched with a guard of cavalry towards Narbo, and drew off his army into winter quarters by his lieutenants. He posted four legions in the country of the Belgae, under Marcus Antonius, Caius Trebonius, Publius Vatinius, and Quintus Tullius, his lieutenants. Two he detached to the Aedui, knowing them to have a very powerful influence throughout all Gaul. Two he placed among the Turoni, near the confines of the Carnutes, to keep in awe the entire tract of country bordering on the ocean; the other two he placed in the territories of the Lemovices, at a small distance from the Arverni, that no part of Gaul might be without an army. Having spent a few days in the province, he quickly ran through all the business of the assizes, settled all public disputes, and distributed rewards to the most deserving; for he had a good opportunity of learning how every person was disposed towards the republic during the general revolt of Gaul, which he had withstood by the fidelity and assistance of the Province. XLVII.--Having finished these affairs, he returned to his legions among the Belgae and wintered at Nemetocenna: there he got intelligence that Comius, the Atrebatian had had an engagement with his cavalry. For when Antonius had gone into winter quarters, and the state of the Atrebates continued in their allegiance, Comius, who, after that wound which I before mentioned, was always ready to join his countrymen upon every commotion, that they might not want a person to advise and head them in the management of the war, when his state submitted to the Romans, supported himself and his adherents on plunder by means of his cavalry, infested the roads, and intercepted several convoys which were bringing provisions to the Roman quarters. XLVIII.--Caius Volusenus Quadratus was appointed commander of the horse under Antonius, to winter with him: Antonius sent him in pursuit of the enemy's cavalry; now Volusenus added to that valour which was pre-eminent in him, a great aversion to Comius, on which account he executed the more willingly the orders which he received. Having, therefore, laid ambuscades, he had several encounters with his cavalry and came off successful. At last, when a violent contest ensued, and Volusenus, through eagerness to intercept Comius, had obstinately pursued him with a small party; and Comius had, by the rapidity of his flight, drawn Volusenus to a considerable distance from his troops, he, on a sudden, appealed to the honour of all about him for assistance not to suffer the wound, which he had perfidiously received, to go without vengeance; and, wheeling his horse about, rode unguardedly before the rest up to the commander. All his horse following his example, made a few of our men turn their backs and pursued them. Comius, clapping spurs to his horse, rode up to Volusenus, and, pointing his lance, pierced him in the thigh with great force. When their commander was wounded, our men no longer hesitated to make resistance, and, facing about, beat back the enemy. When this occurred, several of the enemy, repulsed by the great impetuosity of our men, were wounded, and some were trampled to death in striving to escape, and some were made prisoners. Their general escaped this misfortune by the swiftness of his horse. Our commander, being severely wounded, so much so that he appeared to run the risk of losing his life, was carried back to the camp. But Comius, having either gratified his resentment, or, because he had lost the greatest part of his followers, sent ambassadors to Antonius, and assured him that he would give hostages as a security that he would go wherever Antonius should prescribe, and would comply with his orders, and only entreated that this concession should be made to his fears, that he should not be obliged to go into the presence of any Roman. As Antonius judged that his request originated in a just apprehension, he indulged him in it and accepted his hostages. * * * * * Caesar, I know, has made a separate commentary of each year's transactions, which I have not thought it necessary for me to do, because the following year, in which Lucius Paulus and Caius Marcellus were consuls, produced no remarkable occurrences in Gaul. But that no person may be left in ignorance of the place where Caesar and his army were at that time, I have thought proper to write a few words in addition to this commentary. * * * * * XLIX.--Caesar, whilst in winter quarters in the country of the Belgae, made it his only business to keep the states in amity with him, and to give none either hopes of, or pretext for, a revolt. For nothing was further from his wishes than to be under the necessity of engaging in another war at his departure; lest, when he was drawing his army out of the country, any war should be left unfinished, which the Gauls would cheerfully undertake, when there was no immediate danger. Therefore, by treating the states with respect, making rich presents to the leading men, imposing no new burdens, and making the terms of their subjection lighter, he easily kept Gaul (already exhausted by so many unsuccessful battles) in obedience. L.--When the winter quarters were broken up, he himself, contrary to his usual practice, proceeded to Italy, by the longest possible stages, in order to visit the free towns and colonies, that he might recommend to them the petition of Marcus Antonius, his treasurer, for the priesthood. For he exerted his interest both cheerfully in favour of a man strongly attached to him, whom he had sent home before him to attend the election, and zealously to oppose the faction and power of a few men, who, by rejecting Marcus Antonius, wished to undermine Caesar's influence when going out of office. Though Caesar heard on the road, before he reached Italy, that he was created augur, yet he thought himself in honour bound to visit the free town and colonies, to return them thanks for rendering such service to Antonius by their presence in such great numbers [at the election], and at the same time to recommend to them himself, and his honour in his suit for the consulate the ensuing year. For his adversaries arrogantly boasted that Lucius Lentulus and Caius Marcellus had been appointed consuls, who would strip Caesar of all honour and dignity: and that the consulate had been injuriously taken from Sergius Galba, though he had been much superior in votes and interest, because he was united to Caesar, both by friendship, and by serving as lieutenant under him. LI.--Caesar, on his arrival, was received by the principal towns and colonies with incredible respect and affection; for this was the first time he came since the war against united Gaul. Nothing was omitted which could be thought of for the ornament of the gates, roads, and every place through which Caesar was to pass. All the people with their children went out to meet him. Sacrifices were offered up in every quarter. The market places and temples were laid out with entertainments, as if anticipating the joy of a most splendid triumph. So great was the magnificence of the richer and zeal of the poorer ranks of the people. LII.--When Caesar had gone through all the states of Cisalpine Gaul, he returned with the greatest haste to the army at Nemetocenna; and having ordered all his legions to march from winter quarters to the territories of the Treviri, he went thither and reviewed them. He made Titus Labienus governor of Cisalpine Gaul, that he might be the more inclined to support him in his suit for the consulate. He himself made such journeys, as he thought would conduce to the health of his men by change of air; and though he was frequently told that Labienus was solicited by his enemies, and was assured that a scheme was in agitation by the contrivance of a few, that the senate should interpose their authority to deprive him of a part of his army; yet he neither gave credit to any story concerning Labienus, nor could be prevailed upon to do anything in opposition to the authority of the senate; for he thought that his cause would be easily gained by the free voice of the senators. For Caius Curio, one of the tribunes of the people, having undertaken to defend Caesar's cause and dignity, had often proposed to the senate, "that if the dread of Caesar's arms rendered any apprehensive, as Pompey's authority and arms were no less formidable to the forum, both should resign their command, and disband their armies. That then the city would be free, and enjoy its due rights." And he not only proposed this, but of himself called upon the senate to divide on the question. But the consuls and Pompey's friends interposed to prevent it; and regulating matters as they desired, they broke up the meeting. LIII.--This testimony of the unanimous voice of the senate was very great, and consistent with their former conduct; for the preceding year, when Marcellus attacked Caesar's dignity, he proposed to the senate, contrary to the law of Pompey and Crassus, to dispose of Caesar's province, before the expiration of his command, and when the votes were called for, and Marcellus, who endeavoured to advance his own dignity, by raising envy against Caesar, wanted a division, the full senate went over to the opposite side. The spirit of Caesar's foes was not broken by this, but it taught them, that they ought to strengthen their interest by enlarging their connections, so as to force the senate to comply with whatever they resolved on. LIV.--After this a decree was passed by the senate, that one legion should be sent by Pompey, and another by Caesar, to the Parthian war. But these two legions were evidently drawn from Caesar alone. For the first legion which Pompey sent to Caesar, he gave Caesar, as if it belonged to himself, though it was levied in Caesar's province. Caesar, however, though no one could doubt the design of his enemies, sent the legion back to Cneius Pompey, and in compliance with the decree of the senate, ordered the fifteenth, belonging to himself, and which was quartered in Cisalpine Gaul, to be delivered up. In its room he sent the thirteenth into Italy, to protect the garrisons from which he had drafted the fifteenth. He disposed his army in winter quarters, placed Caius Trebonius, with four legions among the Belgae, and detached Caius Fabius, with four more, to the Aedui; for he thought that Gaul would be most secure if the Belgae, a people of the greatest valour, and the Aedui, who possessed the most powerful influence, were kept in awe by his armies. LV.--He himself set out for Italy; where he was informed on his arrival, that the two legions sent home by him, and which by the senate's decree, should have been sent to the Parthian war, had been delivered over to Pompey, by Caius Marcellus the consul, and were retained in Italy. Although from this transaction it was evident to every one that war was designed against Caesar, yet he resolved to submit to any thing, as long as there were hopes left of deciding the dispute in an equitable manner, rather than have recourse to arms. * * * * * THE CIVIL WAR BOOK I I.--When Caesar's letter was delivered to the consuls, they were with great difficulty, and a hard struggle of the tribunes, prevailed on to suffer it to be read in the senate; but the tribunes could not prevail, that any question should be put to the senate on the subject of the letter. The consuls put the question on the regulation of the state. Lucius Lentulus the consul promises that he will not fail the senate and republic, "if they declared their sentiments boldly and resolutely, but if they turned their regard to Caesar, and courted his favour, as they did on former occasions, he would adopt a plan for himself, and not submit to the authority of the senate: that he too had a means of regaining Caesar's favour and friendship." Scipio spoke to the same purport, "that it was Pompey's intention not to abandon the republic, if the senate would support him; but if they should hesitate and act without energy, they would in vain implore his aid, if they should require it hereafter." II.--This speech of Scipio's, as the senate was convened in the city, and Pompey was near at hand, seemed to have fallen from the lips of Pompey himself. Some delivered their sentiments with more moderation, as Marcellus first, who in the beginning of his speech, said, "that the question ought not to be put to the senate on this matter, till levies were made throughout all Italy, and armies raised under whose protection the senate might freely and safely pass such resolutions as they thought proper": as Marcus Calidius afterwards, who was of opinion, "that Pompey should set out for his province, that there might be no cause for arms: that Caesar was naturally apprehensive as two legions were forced from him, that Pompey was retaining those troops, and keeping them near the city to do him injury": as Marcus Rufus, who followed Calidius almost word for word. They were all harshly rebuked by Lentulus, who peremptorily refused to propose Calidius's motion. Marcellus, overawed by his reproofs, retracted his opinion. Thus most of the senate, intimidated by the expressions of the consul, by the fears of a present army, and the threats of Pompey's friends, unwillingly and reluctantly adopted Scipio's opinion, that Caesar should disband his army by a certain day, and should he not do so, he should be considered as acting against the state. Marcus Antonius, and Quintus Cassius, tribunes of the people, interposed. The question was immediately put on their interposition. Violent opinions were expressed: whoever spoke with the greatest acrimony and cruelty, was most highly commended by Caesar's enemies. III.--The senate having broken up in the evening, all who belonged to that order were summoned by Pompey. He applauded the forward, and secured their votes for the next day; the more moderate he reproved and excited against Caesar. Many veterans, from all parts, who had served in Pompey's armies, were invited to his standard by the hopes of rewards and promotions. Several officers belonging to the two legions, which had been delivered up by Caesar, were sent for. The city and the Comitium were crowded with tribunes, centurions, and veterans. All the consuls' friends, all Pompey's connections, all those who bore any ancient enmity to Caesar, were forced into the senate house. By their concourse and declarations the timid were awed, the irresolute confirmed, and the greater part deprived of the power of speaking their sentiments with freedom. Lucius Piso, the censor, offered to go to Caesar: as did likewise Lucius Roscius, the praetor, to inform him of these affairs, and require only six days' time to finish the business. Opinions were expressed by some to the effect that commissioners should be sent to Caesar to acquaint him with the senate's pleasure. IV.--All these proposals were rejected, and opposition made to them all, in the speeches of the consul, Scipio, and Cato. An old grudge against Caesar and chagrin at a defeat actuated Cato. Lentulus was wrought upon by the magnitude of his debts, and the hopes of having the government of an army and provinces, and by the presents which he expected from such princes as should receive the title of friends of the Roman people, and boasted amongst his friends, that he would be a second Sylla, to whom the supreme authority should return. Similar hopes of a province and armies, which he expected to share with Pompey on account of his connection with him, urged on Scipio; and moreover, [he was influenced by] the fear of being called to trial, and the adulation and an ostentatious display of himself and his friends in power, who at that time had great influence in the republic, and courts of judicature. Pompey himself, incited by Caesar's enemies, because he was unwilling that any person should bear an equal degree of dignity, had wholly alienated himself from Caesar's friendship, and procured a reconciliation with their common enemies; the greatest part of whom he had himself brought upon Caesar during his affinity with him. At the same time, chagrined at the disgrace which he had incurred by converting the two legions from their expedition through Asia and Syria, to [augment] his own power and authority, he was anxious to bring matters to a war. V.--For these reasons everything was done in a hasty and disorderly manner, and neither was time given to Caesar's relations to inform him [of the state of affairs] nor liberty to the tribunes of the people to deprecate their own danger, nor even to retain the last privilege, which Sylla had left them, the interposing their authority; but on the seventh day they were obliged to think of their own safety, which the most turbulent tribunes of the people were not accustomed to attend to, nor to fear being called to an account for their actions, till the eighth month. Recourse is had to that extreme and final decree of the senate (which was never resorted to even by daring proposers except when the city was in danger of being set on fire, or when the public safety was despaired of). "That the consuls, praetors, tribunes of the people, and proconsuls in the city should take care that the state received no injury." These decrees are dated the eighth day before the ides of January; therefore, in the first five days, on which the senate could meet, from the day on which Lentulus entered into his consulate, the two days of election excepted, the severest and most virulent decrees were passed against Caesar's government, and against those most illustrious characters, the tribunes of the people. The latter immediately made their escape from the city, and withdrew to Caesar, who was then at Ravenna, awaiting an answer to his moderate demands; [to see] if matters could be brought to a peaceful termination by any equitable act on the part of the enemies. VI.--During the succeeding days the senate is convened outside the city. Pompey repeated the same things which he had declared through Scipio. He applauded the courage and firmness of the senate, acquainted them with his force, and told them that he had ten legions ready; that he was moreover informed and assured that Caesar's soldiers were disaffected, and that he could not persuade them to defend or even follow him. Motions were made in the senate concerning other matters; that levies should be made through all Italy; that Faustus Sylla should be sent as propraetor into Mauritania; that money should be granted to Pompey from the public treasury. It was also put to the vote that king Juba should be [honoured with the title of] friend and ally. But Marcellus said that he would not allow this motion for the present. Philip, one of the tribunes, stopped [the appointment of] Sylla; the resolutions respecting the other matters passed. The provinces, two of which were consular, the remainder praetorian, were decreed to private persons; Scipio got Syria, Lucius Domitius Gaul: Philip and Marcellus were omitted, from a private motive, and their lots were not even admitted. To the other provinces praetors were sent, nor was time granted as in former years, to refer to the people on their appointment, nor to make them take the usual oath, and march out of the city in a public manner, robed in the military habit, after offering their vows; a circumstance which had never before happened. Both the consuls leave the city, and private men had lictors in the city and capital, contrary to all precedents of former times. Levies were made throughout Italy, arms demanded, and money exacted from the municipal towns, and violently taken from the temples. All distinctions between things human and divine are confounded. VII.--These things being made known to Caesar, he harangued his soldiers; he reminded them "of the wrongs done to him at all times by his enemies, and complained that Pompey had been alienated from him and led astray by them through envy and a malicious opposition to his glory, though he had always favoured and promoted Pompey's honour and dignity. He complained that an innovation had been introduced into the republic, that the intercession of the tribunes, which had been restored a few years before by Sylla, was branded as a crime, and suppressed by force of arms; that Sylla, who had stripped the tribunes of every other power, had, nevertheless, left the privilege of intercession unrestrained; that Pompey, who pretended to restore what they had lost, had taken away the privileges which they formerly had; that whenever the senate decreed, "that the magistrates should take care that the republic sustained no injury" (by which words and decree the Roman people were obliged to repair to arms), it was only when pernicious laws were proposed; when the tribunes attempted violent measures; when the people seceded, and possessed themselves of the temples and eminences of the city; (and these instances of former times, he showed them were expiated by the fate of Saturninus and the Gracchi): that nothing of this kind was attempted now, nor even thought of: that no law was promulgated, no intrigue with the people going forward, no secession made; he exhorted them to defend from the malice of his enemies, the reputation and honour of that general, under whose command they had for nine years most successfully supported the state; fought many successful battles, and subdued all Gaul and Germany." The soldiers of the thirteenth legion, which was present (for in the beginning of the disturbances he had called it out, his other legions not having yet arrived), all cry out that they are ready to defend their general, and the tribunes of the commons, from all injuries. VIII.--Having made himself acquainted with the disposition of his soldiers, Caesar set off with that legion to Ariminum, and there met the tribunes, who had fled to him for protection; he called his other legions from winter quarters, and ordered them to follow him. Thither came Lucius Caesar, a young man, whose father was a lieutenant general under Caesar. He, after concluding the rest of his speech, and stating for what purpose he had come, told Caesar that he had commands of a private nature for him from Pompey; that Pompey wished to clear himself to Caesar, lest he should impute those actions which he did for the republic, to a design of affronting him; that he had ever preferred the interest of the state to his own private connections; that Caesar, too, for his own honour, ought to sacrifice his desires and resentment to the public good, and not vent his anger so violently against his enemies, lest in his hopes of injuring them, he should injure the republic. He spoke a few words to the same purport from himself, in addition to Pompey's apology. Roscius, the praetor, conferred with Caesar almost in the same words, and on the same subject, and declared that Pompey had empowered him to do so. IX.--Though these things seemed to have no tendency towards redressing his injuries, yet having got proper persons by whom he could communicate his wishes to Pompey; he required of them both, that as they had conveyed Pompey's demands to him, they should not refuse to convey his demands to Pompey; if by so little trouble they could terminate a great dispute, and liberate all Italy from her fears. "That the honour of the republic had ever been his first object, and dearer to him than life; that he was chagrined, that the favour of the Roman people was wrested from him by the injurious reports of his enemies; that he was deprived of a half-year's command, and dragged back to the city, though the people had ordered that regard should be paid to his suit for the consulate at the next election, though he was not present; that, however, he had patiently submitted to this loss of honour for the sake of the republic; that when he wrote letters to the senate, requiring that all persons should resign the command of their armies, he did not obtain even that request; that levies were made throughout Italy; that the two legions which had been taken from him, under the pretence of the Parthian war, were kept at home, and that the state was in arms. To what did all these things tend, unless to his ruin? But, nevertheless, he was ready to condescend to any terms, and to endure everything for the sake of the republic. Let Pompey go to his own province; let them both disband their armies; let all persons in Italy lay down their arms; let all fears be removed from the city; let free elections, and the whole republic be resigned to the direction of the senate and Roman people. That these things might be the more easily performed, and conditions secured and confirmed by oath, either let Pompey come to Caesar, or allow Caesar to go to him; it might be that all their disputes would be settled by an interview." X.--Roscius and Lucius Caesar, having received this message, went to Capua, where they met the consuls and Pompey, and declared to them Caesar's terms. Having deliberated on the matter, they replied, and sent written proposals to him by the same persons, the purport of which was, that Caesar should return into Gaul, leave Ariminum, and disband his army: if he complied with this, that Pompey would go to Spain. In the meantime, until security was given that Caesar would perform his promises, that the consuls and Pompey would not give over their levies. XI.--It was not an equitable proposal, to require that Caesar should quit Ariminum and return to his province; but that he [Pompey] should himself retain his province and the legions that belonged to another, and desire that Caesar's army should be disbanded, whilst he himself was making new levies: and that he should merely promise to go to his province, without naming the day on which he would set out; so that if he should not set out till after Caesar's consulate expired, yet he would not appear bound by any religious scruples about asserting a falsehood. But his not granting time for a conference, nor promising to set out to meet him, made the expectation of peace appear very hopeless. Caesar, therefore, sent Marcus Antonius, with five cohorts from Ariminum to Arretium; he himself stayed at Ariminum with two legions, with the intention of raising levies there. He secured Pisaurus, Fanum, and Ancona, with a cohort each. XII.--In the meantime, being informed that Thermus the praetor was in possession of Iguvium, with five cohorts, and was fortifying the town, but that the affections of all the inhabitants were very well inclined towards himself; he detached Curio with three cohorts, which he had at Ariminum and Pisaurus. Upon notice of his approach, Thermus, distrusting the affections of the townsmen, drew his cohorts out of it, and made his escape; his soldiers deserted him on the road, and returned home. Curio recovered Iguvium, with the cheerful concurrence of all the inhabitants. Caesar, having received an account of this, and relying on the affections of the municipal towns, drafted all the cohorts of the thirteenth legion from the garrisons, and set out for Auximum, a town into which Attius had brought his cohorts, and of which he had taken possession, and from which he had sent senators round about the country of Picenum, to raise new levies. XIII.--Upon news of Caesar's approach, the senate of Auximum went in a body to Attius Varus; and told him that it was not a subject for them to determine upon: yet neither they, nor the rest of the freemen would suffer Caius Caesar, a general, who had merited so well of the republic, after performing such great achievements, to be excluded from their town and walls; wherefore he ought to pay some regard to the opinion of posterity, and his own danger. Alarmed at this declaration, Attius Varus drew out of the town the garrison which he had introduced, and fled. A few of Caesar's front rank having pursued him, obliged him to halt, and when the battle began, Varus is deserted by his troops: some of them disperse to their homes, the rest come over to Caesar; and along with them, Lucius Pupius, the chief centurion, is taken prisoner and brought to Caesar. He had held the same rank before in Cneius Pompey's army. But Caesar applauded the soldiers of Attius, set Pupius at liberty, returned thanks to the people of Auximum, and promised to be grateful for their conduct. XIV.--Intelligence of this being brought to Rome, so great a panic spread on a sudden that when Lentulus, the consul, came to open the treasury, to deliver money to Pompey by the senate's decree, immediately on opening the hallowed door he fled from the city. For it was falsely rumoured that Caesar was approaching, and that his cavalry were already at the gates. Marcellus, his colleague, followed him, and so did most of the magistrates. Cneius Pompey had left the city the day before, and was on his march to those legions which he had received from Caesar, and had disposed in winter quarters in Apulia. The levies were stopped within the city. No place on this side of Capua was thought secure. At Capua they first began to take courage and to rally, and determined to raise levies in the colonies, which had been sent thither by the Julian law: and Lentulus brought into the public market-place the gladiators which Caesar maintained there for the entertainment of the people, and confirmed them in their liberty, and gave them horses and ordered them to attend him; but afterwards, being warned by his friends that this action was censured by the judgment of all, he distributed them among the slaves of the districts of Campania, to keep guard there. XV.--Caesar, having moved forward from Auximum, traversed the whole country of Picenum. All the governors in these countries most cheerfully received him, and aided his army with every necessary. Ambassadors came to him even from Cingulum, a town which Labienus had laid out and built at his own expense, and offered most earnestly to comply with his orders. He demanded soldiers: they sent them. In the meantime, the twelfth legion came to join Caesar; with these two he marched to Asculum, the chief town of Picenum. Lentulus Spinther occupied that town with ten cohorts; but, on being informed of Caesar's approach, he fled from the town, and, in attempting to bring off his cohorts with him, was deserted by a great part of his men. Being left on the road with a small number, he fell in with Vibullius Rufus, who was sent by Pompey into Picenum to confirm the people [in their allegiance]. Vibullius, being informed by him of the transactions in Picenum, takes his soldiers from him and dismisses him. He collects, likewise, from the neighbouring countries, as many cohorts as he can from Pompey's new levies. Amongst them he meets with Ulcilles Hirrus fleeing from Camerinum, with six cohorts, which he had in the garrison there; by a junction with which he made up thirteen cohorts. With them he marched by hasty journeys to Corfinium, to Domitius Aenobarbus, and informed him that Caesar was advancing with two legions. Domitius had collected about twenty cohorts from Alba, and the Marsians, Pelignians, and neighbouring states. XVI.--Caesar, having recovered Asculum and driven out Lentulus, ordered the soldiers that had deserted from him to be sought out and a muster to be made; and, having delayed for one day there to provide corn, he marched to Corfinium. On his approach, five cohorts, sent by Domitius from the town, were breaking down a bridge which was over the river, at three miles' distance from it. An engagement taking place there with Caesar's advanced-guard, Domitius's men were quickly beaten off from the bridge and retreated precipitately into the town. Caesar, having marched his legions over, halted before the town and encamped close by the walls. XVII.--Domitius, upon observing this, sent messengers well acquainted with the country, encouraged by a promise of being amply rewarded, with despatches to Pompey to Apulia, to beg and entreat him to come to his assistance. That Caesar could be easily enclosed by the two armies, through the narrowness of the country, and prevented from obtaining supplies: unless he did so, that he and upwards of thirty cohorts, and a great number of senators and Roman knights, would be in extreme danger. In the meantime he encouraged his troops, disposed engines on the walls, and assigned to each man a particular part of the city to defend. In a speech to the soldiers he promised them lands out of his own estate; to every private soldier four acres, and a corresponding share to the centurions and veterans. XVIII.--In the meantime, word was brought to Caesar that the people of Sulmo, a town about seven miles distant from Corfinium, were ready to obey his orders, but were prevented by Quintus Lucretius, a senator, and Attius, a Pelignian, who were in possession of the town with a garrison of seven cohorts. He sent Marcus Antonius thither, with five cohorts of the eighth legion. The inhabitants, as soon as they saw our standards, threw open their gates, and all the people, both citizens and soldiers, went out to meet and welcome Antonius. Lucretius and Attius leaped off the walls. Attius, being brought before Antonius, begged that he might be sent to Caesar. Antonius returned the same day on which he had set out with the cohorts and Attius. Caesar added these cohorts to his own army, and sent Attius away in safety. The three first days Caesar employed in fortifying his camp with strong works, in bringing in corn from the neighbouring free towns, and waiting for the rest of his forces. Within the three days the eighth legion came to him, and twenty-two cohorts of the new levies in Gaul, and about three hundred horse from the king of Noricum. On their arrival he made a second camp on another part of the town, and gave the command of it to Curio. He determined to surround the town with a rampart and turrets during the remainder of the time. Nearly at the time when the greatest part of the work was completed, all the messengers sent to Pompey returned. XIX.--Having read Pompey's letter, Domitius, concealing the truth, gave out in council that Pompey would speedily come to their assistance; and encouraged them not to despond, but to provide everything necessary for the defence of the town. He held private conferences with a few of his most intimate friends, and determined on the design of fleeing. As Domitius's countenance did not agree with his words, and he did everything with more confusion and fear than he had shown on the preceding days, and as he had several private meetings with his friends, contrary to his usual practice, in order to take their advice, and as he avoided all public councils and assemblies of the people, the truth could be no longer hid nor dissembled; for Pompey had written back in answer, "That he would not put matters to the last hazard; that Domitius had retreated into the town of Corfinium, without either his advice or consent. Therefore, if any opportunity should offer, he [Domitius] should come to him with the whole force." But the blockade and works round the town prevented his escape. XX.--Domitius's design being noised abroad, the soldiers in Confinium [**error in original: should be CORFINIUM] early in the evening began to mutiny, and held a conference with each other by their tribunes and centurions, and the most respectable amongst themselves: "that they were besieged by Caesar; that his works and fortifications were almost finished; that their general, Domitius, on whose hopes and expectations they had confided, had thrown them off, and was meditating his own escape; that they ought to provide for their own safety." At first the Marsians differed in opinion, and possessed themselves of that part of the town which they thought the strongest. And so violent a dispute arose between them, that they attempted to fight and decide it by arms. However, in a little time, by messengers sent from one side to the other, they were informed of Domitius's meditated flight, of which they were previously ignorant. Therefore they all with one consent brought Domitius into public view, gathered round him, and guarded him; and sent deputies out of their number to Caesar, to say that they were ready to throw open their gates, to do whatever he should order, and to deliver up Domitius alive into his hands. XXI.--Upon intelligence of these matters, though Caesar thought it of great consequence to become master of the town as soon as possible, and to transfer the cohorts to his own camp, lest any change should be wrought on their inclinations by bribes, encouragement, or fictitious messages, because in war great events are often brought about by trifling circumstances; yet, dreading lest the town should be plundered by the soldiers entering into it, and taking advantage of the darkness of the night, he commended the persons who came to him, and sent them back to the town, and ordered the gates and walls to be secured. He disposed his soldiers on the works, which he had begun, not at certain intervals, as was his practice before, but in one continued range of sentinels and stations, so that they touched each other, and formed a circle round the whole fortification; he ordered the tribunes and general officers to ride round; and exhorted them not only to be on their guard against sallies from the town, but also to watch that no single person should get out privately. Nor was any man so negligent or drowsy as to sleep that night. To so great height was their expectation raised, that they were carried away, heart and soul, each to different objects, what would become of the Corfinians, what of Domitius, what of Lentulus, what of the rest; what event would be the consequence of another. XXII.--About the fourth watch, Lentulus Spinther said to our sentinels and guards from the walls, that he desired to have an interview with Caesar, if permission were given him. Having obtained it, he was escorted out of town; nor did the soldiers of Domitius leave him till they brought him into Caesar's presence. He pleaded with Caesar for his life, and entreated him to spare him, and reminded him of their former friendship; and acknowledged that Caesar's favours to him were very great; in that through his interest he had been admitted into the college of priests; in that after his praetorship he had been appointed to the government of Spain; in that he had been assisted by him in his suit for the consulate. Caesar interrupted him in his speech, and told him, "that he had not left his province to do mischief [to any man], but to protect himself from the injuries of his enemies; to restore to their dignity the tribunes of the people who had been driven out of the city on his account, and to assert his own liberty, and that of the Roman people, who were oppressed by a few factious men." Encouraged by this address, Lentulus begged leave to return to the town, that the security which he had obtained for himself might be an encouragement to the rest to hope for theirs; saying that some were so terrified that they were induced to make desperate attempts on their own lives. Leave being granted him, he departed. XXIII.--When day appeared Caesar ordered all the senators and their children, the tribunes of the soldiers, and the Roman knights, to be brought before him. Among the persons of senatorial rank were Lucius Domitius, Publius Lentulus Spinther, Lucius Vibullius Rufus, Sextus Quintilius Varus, the quaestor, and Lucius Rubrius, besides the son of Domitius, and several other young men, and a great number of Roman knights and burgesses, whom Domitius had summoned from the municipal towns. When they were brought before him he protected them from the insolence and taunts of the soldiers; told them in few words that they had not made him a grateful return, on their part, for his very extraordinary kindness to them, and dismissed them all in safety. Sixty sestertia, which Domitius had brought with him and lodged in the public treasury, being brought to Caesar by the magistrates of Corfinium, he gave them back to Domitius, that he might not appear more moderate with respect to the life of men than in money matters, though he knew that it was public money, and had been given by Pompey to pay his army. He ordered Domitius's soldiers to take the oath to himself, and that day decamped and performed the regular march. He stayed only seven days before Corfinium, and marched into Apulia through the country of the Marrucinians, Frentanians, and Larinates. XXIV.--Pompey, being informed of what had passed at Corfinium, marches from Luceria to Canusium, and thence to Brundusium. He orders all the forces raised everywhere by the new levies to repair to him. He gives arms to the slaves that attended the flocks, and appoints horses for them. Of these he made up about three hundred horse. Lucius, the praetor, fled from Alba, with six cohorts: Rutilus Lupus, the praetor, from Tarracina, with three. These having descried Caesar's cavalry at a distance, which were commanded by Bivius Curius, and having deserted the praetor, carried their colours to Curius and went over to him. In like manner during the rest of his march, several cohorts fell in with the main body of Caesar's army, others with his horse. Cneius Magius, from Cremona, engineer-general to Pompey, was taken prisoner on the road and brought to Caesar, but sent back by him to Pompey with this message: "As hitherto he had not been allowed an interview, and was now on his march to him at Brundusium, that it deeply concerned the commonwealth and general safety that he should have an interview with Pompey; and that the same advantage could not be gained at a great distance when the proposals were conveyed to them by others, as if terms were argued by them both in person." XXV.--Having delivered this message he marched to Brundusium with six legions, four of them veterans: the rest those which he had raised in the late levy and completed on his march, for he had sent all Domitius's cohorts immediately from Corfinium to Sicily. He discovered that the consuls were gone to Dyrrachium with a considerable part of the army, and that Pompey remained at Brundusium with twenty cohorts; but could not find out, for a certainty, whether Pompey stayed behind to keep possession of Brundusium, that he might the more easily command the whole Adriatic sea, with the extremities of Italy and the coast of Greece, and be able to conduct the war on either side of it, or whether he remained there for want of shipping; and, being afraid that Pompey would come to the conclusion that he ought not to relinquish Italy, he determined to deprive him of the means of communication afforded by the harbour of Brundusium. The plan of his work was as follows:--Where the mouth of the port was narrowest he threw up a mole of earth on either side, because in these places the sea was shallow. Having gone out so far that the mole could not be continued in the deep water, he fixed double floats, thirty feet on either side, before the mole. These he fastened with four anchors at the four corners, that they might not be carried away by the waves. Having completed and secured them, he then joined to them other floats of equal size. These he covered over with earth and mould, that he might not be prevented from access to them to defend them, and in the front and on both sides he protected them with a parapet of wicker work; and on every fourth one raised a turret, two stories high, to secure them the better from being attacked by the shipping and set on fire. XXVI.--To counteract this, Pompey fitted out large merchant ships, which he found in the harbour of Brundusium: on them he erected turrets three stories high, and, having furnished them with several engines and all sorts of weapons, drove them amongst Caesar's works, to break through the floats and interrupt the works; thus there happened skirmishes every day at a distance with slings, arrows, and other weapons. Caesar conducted matters as if he thought that the hopes of peace were not yet to be given up. And though he was very much surprised that Magius, whom he had sent to Pompey with a message, was not sent back to him; and though his attempting a reconciliation often retarded the vigorous prosecution of his plans, yet he thought that he ought by all means to persevere in the same line of conduct. He therefore sent Caninius Rebilus to have an interview with Scribonius Libo, his intimate friend and relation. He charges him to exhort Libo to effect a peace, but, above all things, requires that he should be admitted to an interview with Pompey. He declared that he had great hopes, if that were allowed him, that the consequence would be that both parties would lay down their arms on equal terms; that a great share of the glory and reputation of that event would redound to Libo, if, through his advice and agency, hostilities should be ended. Libo, having parted from the conference with Caninius, went to Pompey, and, shortly after, returns with answer that, as the consuls were absent, no treaty of compositions could be engaged in without them. Caesar therefore thought it time at length to give over the attempt which he had often made in vain, and act with energy in the war. XXVII.--When Caesar's works were nearly half finished, and after nine days were spent in them, the ships which had conveyed the first division of the army to Dyrrachium being sent back by the consuls, returned to Brundusium. Pompey, either frightened at Caesar's works or determined from the beginning to quit Italy, began to prepare for his departure on the arrival of the ships; and the more effectually to retard Caesar's attack, lest his soldiers should force their way into the town at the moment of his departure, he stopped up the gates, built walls across the streets and avenues, sunk trenches across the ways, and in them fixed palisadoes and sharp stakes, which he made level with the ground by means of hurdles and clay. But he barricaded with large beams fastened in the ground and sharpened at the ends two passages and roads without the walls, which led to the port. After making these arrangements, he ordered his soldiers to go on board without noise, and disposed here and there, on the wall and turrets, some light-armed veterans, archers and slingers. These he designed to call off by a certain signal, when all the soldiers were embarked, and left row-galleys for them in a secure place. XXVIII.--The people of Brundusium, irritated by the insolence of Pompey's soldiers, and the insults received from Pompey himself, were in favour of Caesar's party. Therefore, as soon as they were aware of Pompey's departure, whilst his men were running up and down, and busied about their voyage, they made signs from the tops of the houses: Caesar, being apprized of the design by them, ordered scaling ladders to be got ready, and his men to take arms, that he might not lose any opportunity of coming to an action. Pompey weighed anchor at nightfall. The soldiers who had been posted on the wall to guard it, were called off by the signal which had been agreed on, and knowing the roads, ran down to the ships. Caesar's soldiers fixed their ladders and scaled the walls: but being cautioned by the people to beware of the hidden stakes and covered trenches, they halted, and being conducted by the inhabitants by a long circuit, they reached the port, and captured with their long boats and small craft two of Pompey's ships, full of soldiers, which had struck against Caesar's moles. XXIX.-Though Caesar highly approved of collecting a fleet, and crossing the sea, and pursuing Pompey before he could strengthen himself with his transmarine auxiliaries, with the hope of bringing the war to a conclusion, yet he dreaded the delay and length of time necessary to effect it: because Pompey, by collecting all his ships, had deprived him of the means of pursuing him at present. The only resource left to Caesar, was to wait for a fleet from the distant regions of Gaul, Picenum, and the straits of Gibraltar. But this, on account of the season of the year, appeared tedious and troublesome. He was unwilling that, in the meantime, the veteran army, and the two Spains, one of which was bound to Pompey by the strongest obligations, should be confirmed in his interest; that auxiliaries and cavalry should be provided and Gaul and Italy reduced in his absence. XXX.--Therefore, for the present, he relinquished all intention of pursuing Pompey, and resolved to march to Spain, and commanded the magistrates of the free towns to procure him ships, and to have them conveyed to Brundusium. He detached Valerius, his lieutenant, with one legion to Sardinia; Curio, the proprietor, to Sicily with three legions; and ordered him, when he had recovered Sicily, to immediately transport his army to Africa. Marcus Cotta was at this time governor of Sardinia: Marcus Cato, of Sicily: and Tubero, by the lots, should have had the government of Africa. The Caralitani, as soon as they heard that Valerius was sent against them, even before he left Italy, of their own accord drove Cotta out of the town; who, terrified because he understood that the whole province was combined [against him], fled from Sardinia to Africa. Cato was in Sicily, repairing the old ships of war, and demanding new ones from the states, and these things he performed with great zeal. He was raising levies of Roman citizens, among the Lucani and Brutii, by his lieutenants, and exacting a certain quota of horse and foot from the states of Sicily. When these things were nearly completed, being informed of Curio's approach, he made a complaint that he was abandoned and betrayed by Pompey, who had undertaken an unnecessary war, without making any preparation, and when questioned by him and other members in the senate, had assured them that every thing was ready and provided for the war. After having made these complaints in a public assembly, he fled from his province. XXXI.--Valerius found Sardinia, and Curio, Sicily, deserted by their governors when they arrived there with their armies. When Tubero arrived in Africa, he found Attius Varus in the government of the province, who, having lost his cohorts, as already related, at Auximum, had straightway fled to Africa, and finding it without a governor, had seized it of his own accord, and making levies, had raised two legions. From his acquaintance with the people and country, and his knowledge of that province, he found the means of effecting this; because a few years before, at the expiration of his praetorship, he had obtained that province. He, when Tubero came to Utica with his fleet, prevented his entering the port or town, and did not suffer his son, though labouring under sickness, to set foot on shore; but obliged him to weigh anchor and quit the place. XXXIL.--When these affairs were despatched, Caesar, that there might be an intermission from labour for the rest of the season, drew off his soldiers to the nearest municipal towns, and set off in person for Rome. Having assembled the senate, he reminded them of the injustice of his enemies; and told them, "That he aimed at no extraordinary honour, but had waited for the time appointed by law, for standing candidate for the consulate, being contented with what was allowed to every citizen. That a bill had been carried by the ten tribunes of the people (notwithstanding the resistance of his enemies, and a very violent opposition from Cato, who in his usual manner, consumed the day by a tedious harangue) that he should be allowed to stand candidate, though absent, even in the consulship of Pompey; and if the latter disapproved of the bill, why did he allow it to pass? if he approved of it, why should he debar him [Caesar] from the people's favour? He made mention of his own patience, in that he had freely proposed that all armies should be disbanded, by which he himself would suffer the loss both of dignity and honour. He urged the virulence of his enemies, who refused to comply with what they required from others, and had rather that all things should be thrown into confusion, than that they should lose their power and their armies. He expatiated on their injustice, in taking away his legions: their cruelty and insolence in abridging the privileges of the tribunes; the proposals he had made, and his entreaties of an interview, which had been refused him: For which reasons, he begged and desired that they would undertake the management of the republic, and unite with him in the administration of it. But if through fear they declined it, he would not be a burden to them, but take the management of it on himself. That deputies ought to be sent to Pompey, to propose a reconciliation; as he did not regard what Pompey had lately asserted in the senate, that authority was acknowledged to be vested in those persons to whom ambassadors were sent, and fear implied in those that sent them. That these were the sentiments of low, weak minds: that for his part, as he had made it his study to surpass others in glory, so he was desirous of excelling them in justice and equity." XXXIII.--The senate approved of sending deputies, but none could be found fit to execute the commission: for every person, from his own private fears, declined the office. For Pompey, on leaving the city, had declared in the open senate, that he would hold in the same degree of estimation, those who stayed in Rome and those in Caesar's camp. Thus three days were wasted in disputes and excuses. Besides, Lucius Metellus, one of the tribunes, was suborned by Caesar's enemies, to prevent this, and to embarrass everything else which Caesar should propose. Caesar having discovered his intention, after spending several days to no purpose, left the city, in order that he might not lose any more time, and went to Transalpine Gaul, without effecting what he had intended. XXXIV.--On his arrival there, he was informed that, Vibullius Rufus, whom he had taken a few days before at Corfinium, and set at liberty, was sent by Pompey into Spain; and that Domitius also was gone to seize Massilia with seven row-galleys, which were fitted up by some private persons at Igilium and Cosa, and which he had manned with his own slaves, freedmen, and colonists: and that some young noblemen of Massilia had been sent before him; whom Pompey, when leaving Rome had exhorted, that the late services of Caesar should not erase from their minds the memory of his former favours. On receiving this message, the Massilians had shut their gates against Caesar, and invited over to them the Albici, who had formerly been in alliance with them, and who inhabited the mountains that overhung Massilia: they had likewise conveyed the corn from the surrounding country, and from all the forts into the city; had opened armouries in the city: and were repairing the walls, the fleet, and the gates. XXXV.--Caesar sent for fifteen of the principal persons of Massilia to attend him. To prevent the war commencing among them, he remonstrates [in the following language]; "that they ought to follow the precedent set by all Italy, rather than submit to the will of any one man." He made use of such arguments as he thought would tend to bring them to reason. The deputies reported his speech to their countrymen, and by the authority of the state bring him back this answer: "That they understood that the Roman people was divided into two factions: that they had neither judgment nor abilities to decide which had the juster cause; but that the heads of these factions were Cneius Pompey and Caius Caesar, the two patrons of the state: the former of whom had granted to their state the lands of the Volcae Arecomici, and Helvii; the latter had assigned them a part of his conquests in Gaul, and had augmented their revenue. Wherefore, having received equal favours from both, they ought to show equal affection to both, and assist neither against the other, nor admit either into their city or harbours." XXXVI.--Whilst this treaty was going forward, Domitius arrived at Massilia with his fleet, and was received into the city, and made governor of it. The chief management of the war was entrusted to him. At his command they send the fleet to all parts; they seize all the merchantmen they could meet with, and carry them into the harbour; they apply the nails, timber, and rigging, with which they were furnished to rig and refit their other vessels. They lay up in the public stores, all the corn that was found in the ships, and reserve the rest of their lading and convoy for the siege of the town, should such an event take place. Provoked at such ill treatment, Caesar led three legions against Massilia, and resolved to provide turrets, and vinae to assault the town, and to build twelve ships at Arelas, which being completed and rigged in thirty days (from the time the timber was cut down), and being brought to Massilia, he put under the command of Decimus Brutus; and left Caius Trebonius his lieutenant, to invest the city. XXXVII.--Whilst he was preparing and getting these things in readiness, he sent Caius Fabius one of his lieutenants into Spain with three legions, which he had disposed in winter quarters in Narbo, and the neighbouring country; and ordered him immediately to seize the passes of the Pyrenees, which were at that time occupied by detachments from Lucius Afranius, one of Pompey's lieutenants. He desired the other legions, which were passing the winter at a great distance, to follow close after him. Fabius, according to his orders, by using expedition, dislodged the party from the hills, and by hasty marches came up with the army of Afranius. XXXVIII.--On the arrival of Vibullius Rufus, whom, we have already mentioned, Pompey had sent into Spain, Afranius, Petreius, and Varro, his lieutenants (one of whom had the command of Hither Spain, with three legions; the second of the country from the forest of Castulo to the river Guadiana with two legions; the third from the river Guadiana to the country of the Vettones and Lusitania, with the like number of legions), divided amongst themselves their respective departments. Petreius was to march from Lusitania through the Vettones, and join Afranius with all his forces; Varro was to guard all Further Spain with what legions he had. These matters being settled, reinforcements of horse and foot were demanded from Lusitania, by Petreius; from the Celtiberi, Cantabri, and all the barbarous nations which border on the ocean, by Afranius. When they were raised, Petreius immediately marched through the Vettones to Afranius. They resolved by joint consent to carry on the war in the vicinity of Ilerda, on account of the advantages of its situation. XXXIX.--Afranius, as above mentioned, had three legions, Petreius two. There were besides about eighty cohorts raised in Hither and Further Spain (of which, the troops belonging to the former province had shields, those of the latter targets), and about five thousand horse raised in both provinces. Caesar had sent his legions into Spain, with about six thousand auxiliary foot, and three thousand horse, which had served under him in all his former wars, and the same number from Gaul, which he himself had provided, having expressly called out all the most noble and valiant men of each state. The bravest of these were from the Aquitani and the mountaineers, who border on the Province in Gaul. He had been informed that Pompey was marching through Mauritania with his legions to Spain, and would shortly arrive. He at the same time borrowed money from the tribunes and centurions, which he distributed amongst his soldiers. By this proceeding he gained two points; he secured the interest of the centurions by this pledge in his hands, and by his liberality he purchased the affections of his army. XL.--Fabius sounded the inclinations of the neighbouring states by letters and messengers. He had made two bridges over the river Segre, at the distance of four miles from each other. He sent foraging parties over these bridges, because he had already consumed all the forage that was on his side of the river. The generals of Pompey's army did almost the same thing, and for the same reason: and the horse had frequent skirmishes with each other. When two of Fabius's legions had, as was their constant practice, gone forth as the usual protection to the foragers, and had crossed the river, and the baggage, and all the horse were following them, on a sudden, from the weight of the cattle, and the mass of water, the bridge fell, and all the horse were cut off from the main army, which being known to Petreius and Afranius, from the timber and hurdles that were carried down the river, Afranius immediately crossed his own bridge, which communicated between his camp and the town, with four legions and all the cavalry, and marched against Fabius's two legions. When his approach was announced, Lucius Plancus, who had the command of those legions, compelled by the emergency, took post on a rising ground; and drew up his army with two fronts, that it might not be surrounded by the cavalry. Thus, though engaged with superior numbers, he sustained the furious charge of the legions and the horse. When the battle was begun by the horse, there were observed at a distance by both sides the colours of two legions, which Caius Fabius had sent round by the further bridge to reinforce our men, suspecting, as the event verified, that the enemy's generals would take advantage of the opportunity which fortune had put in their way, to attack our men. Their approach put an end to the battle, and each general led back his legions to their respective camps. XLI.--In two days after Caesar came to the camp with nine hundred horse, which he had retained for a bodyguard. The bridge which had been broken down by the storm was almost repaired, and he ordered it to be finished in the night. Being acquainted with the nature of the country, he left behind him six cohorts to guard the bridge, the camp, and all his baggage, and the next day set off in person for Ilerda, with all his forces drawn up in three lines, and halted just before the camp of Afranius, and having remained there a short time under arms, he offered him battle on equal terms. When this offer was made, Afranius drew out his forces, and posted them on the middle of a hill, near his camp. When Caesar perceived that Afranius declined coming to an engagement, he resolved to encamp at somewhat less than half a mile's distance from the very foot of the mountain; and that his soldiers whilst engaged in their works, might not be terrified by any sudden attack of the enemy, or disturbed in their work, he ordered them not to fortify it with a wall, which must rise high, and be seen at a distance, but draw, on the front opposite the enemy, a trench fifteen feet broad. The first and second lines continued under arms as was from the first appointed. Behind them the third line was carrying on the work without being seen; so that the whole was completed before Afranius discovered that the camp was being fortified. XLII.--In the evening Caesar drew his legions within this trench, and rested them under arms the next night. The day following he kept his whole army within it, and as it was necessary to bring materials from a considerable distance, he for the present pursued the same plan in his work; and to each legion, one after the other, he assigned one side of the camp to fortify, and ordered trenches of the same magnitude to be cut: he kept the rest of the legions under arms without baggage to oppose the enemy. Afranius and Petreius, to frighten us and obstruct the work, drew out their forces at the very foot of the mountain, and challenged us to battle. Caesar, however, did not interrupt his work, relying on the protection of the three legions, and the strength of the fosse. After staying for a short time, and advancing no great distance from the bottom of the hill, they led back their forces to their camp. The third day Caesar fortified his camp with a rampart, and ordered the other cohorts which he had left in the upper camp, and his baggage to be removed to it. XLIIL-Between the town of Ilerda and the next hill, on which Afranius and Petreius were encamped, there was a plain about three hundred paces broad, and near the middle of it an eminence somewhat raised above the level: Caesar hoped that if he could get possession of this and fortify it, he should be able to cut off the enemy from the town, the bridge, and all the stores which they had laid up in the town. In expectation of this he led three legions out of the camp, and, drawing up his army in an advantageous position, he ordered the advanced men of one legion to hasten forward and seize the eminence. Upon intelligence of this the cohorts which were on guard before Afranius's camp were instantly sent a nearer way to occupy the same post. The two parties engage, and as Afranius's men had reached the eminence first, our men were repulsed, and, on a reinforcement being sent, they were obliged to turn their backs and retreat to the standards of legions. XLIV.--The manner of fighting of those soldiers was to run forward with great impetuosity and boldly take a post, and not to keep their ranks strictly, but to fight in small scattered parties: if hard pressed they thought it no disgrace to retire and give up the post, being accustomed to this manner of fighting among the Lusitanians and other barbarous nations; for it commonly happens that soldiers are strongly influenced by the customs of those countries in which they have spent much time. This method, however, alarmed our men, who were not used to such a description of warfare. For they imagined that they were about to be surrounded on their exposed flank by the single men who ran forward from their ranks; and they thought it their duty to keep their ranks, and not to quit their colours, nor, without good reason, to give up the post which they had taken. Accordingly, when the advanced guard gave way, the legion which was stationed on that wing did not keep its ground, but retreated to the next hill. XLV.--Almost the whole army being daunted at this, because it had occurred contrary to their expectations and custom, Caesar encouraged his men and led the ninth legion to their relief, and checked the insolent and eager pursuit of the enemy, and obliged them, in their turn, to show their backs and retreat to Ilerda, and take post under the walls. But the soldiers of the ninth legion, being over zealous to repair the dishonour which had been sustained, having rashly pursued the fleeing enemy, advanced into disadvantageous ground and went up to the foot of the mountain on which the town Ilerda was built. And when they wished to retire they were again attacked by the enemy from the rising ground. The place was craggy in the front and steep on either side, and was so narrow that even three cohorts, drawn up in order of battle, would fill it; but no relief could be sent on the flanks, and the horse could be of no service to them when hard pressed. From the town, indeed, the precipice inclined with a gentle slope for near four hundred paces. Our men had to retreat this way, as they had, through their eagerness, advanced too inconsiderately. The greatest contest was in this place, which was much to the disadvantage of our troops, both on account of its narrowness, and because they were posted at the foot of the mountain, so that no weapon was thrown at them without effect: yet they exerted their valour and patience, and bore every wound. The enemy's forces were increasing, and cohorts were frequently sent to their aid from the camp through the town, that fresh men might relieve the weary. Caesar was obliged to do the same, and relieve the fatigued by sending cohorts to that post. XLVI.--After the battle had in this manner continued incessantly for five hours, and our men had suffered much from superior numbers, having spent all their javelins, they drew their swords and charged the enemy up the hill, and, having killed a few, obliged the rest to fly. The cohorts being beaten back to the wall, and some being driven by their fears into the town, an easy retreat was afforded to our men. Our cavalry also, on either flank, though stationed on sloping or low ground, yet bravely struggled up to the top of the hill, and, riding between the two armies, made our retreat more easy and secure. Such were the various turns of fortune in the battle. In the first encounter about seventy of our men fell: amongst them Quintus Fulgenius, first centurion of the second line of the fourteenth legion, who, for his extraordinary valour, had been promoted from the lower ranks to that post. About six hundred were wounded. Of Afranius's party there were killed Titus Caecilius, principal centurion, and four other centurions, and above two hundred men. XLVII.--But this opinion is spread abroad concerning this day, that each party thought that they came off conquerors. Afranius's soldiers, because, though they were esteemed inferior in the opinion of all, yet they had stood our attack and sustained our charge, and, at first, had kept the post and the hill which had been the occasion of the dispute; and, in the first encounter, had obliged our men to fly: but ours, because, notwithstanding the disadvantage of the ground and the disparity of numbers, they had maintained the battle for five hours, had advanced up the hill sword in hand, and had forced the enemy to fly from the higher ground and driven them into the town. The enemy fortified the hill, about which the contest had been, with strong works, and posted a garrison on it. XLVIII.--In two days after this transaction, there happened an unexpected misfortune. For so great a storm arose, that it was agreed that there were never seen higher floods in those countries; it swept down the snow from all the mountains, and broke over the banks of the river, and in one day carried away both the bridges which Fabius had built,--a circumstance which caused great difficulties to Caesar's army. For as our camp, as already mentioned, was pitched between two rivers, the Segre and Cinca, and as neither of these could be forded for the space of thirty miles, they were all of necessity confined within these narrow limits. Neither could the states, which had espoused Caesar's cause, furnish him with corn, nor the troops, which had gone far to forage, return, as they were stopped by the waters: nor could the convoys, coming from Italy and Gaul, make their way to the camp. Besides, it was the most distressing season of the year, when there was no corn in the blade, and it was nearly ripe: and the states were exhausted, because Afranius had conveyed almost all the corn, before Caesar's arrival, into Ilerda, and whatever he had left, had been already consumed by Caesar. The cattle, which might have served as a secondary resource against want, had been removed by the states to a great distance on account of the war. They who had gone out to get forage or corn, were chased by the light troops of the Lusitanians, and the targeteers of Hither Spain, who were well acquainted with the country, and could readily swim across the river, because it is the custom of all those people not to join their armies without bladders. XLIX.--But Afranius's army had abundance of everything; a great stock of corn had been provided and laid in long before, a large quantity was coming in from the whole province: they had a good store of forage. The bridge of Ilerda afforded an opportunity of getting all these without any danger, and the places beyond the bridge, to which Caesar had no access, were as yet untouched. L.--Those floods continued several days. Caesar endeavoured to repair the bridges, but the height of the water did not allow him: and the cohorts disposed along the banks did not suffer them to be completed; and it was easy for them to prevent it, both from the nature of the river and the height of the water, but especially because their darts were thrown from the whole course of the bank on one confined spot; and it was no easy matter at one and the same time to execute a work in a very rapid flood, and to avoid the darts. LI.--Intelligence was brought to Afranius that the great convoys, which were on their march to Caesar, had halted at the river. Archers from the Rutheni, and horse from the Gauls, with a long train of baggage, according to the Gallic custom of travelling, had arrived there; there were besides about six thousand people of all descriptions, with slaves and freed men. But there was no order, or regular discipline, as every one followed his own humour, and all travelled without apprehension, taking the same liberty as on former marches. There were several young noblemen, sons of senators, and of equestrian rank; there were ambassadors from several states; there were lieutenants of Caesar's. The river stopped them all. To attack them by surprise, Afranius set out in the beginning of the night, with all his cavalry and three legions, and sent the horse on before, to fall on them unawares; but the Gallic horse soon got themselves in readiness, and attacked them. Though but few, they withstood the vast number of the enemy, as long as they fought on equal terms: but when the legions began to approach, having lost a few men, they retreated to the next mountains. The delay occasioned by this battle was of great importance to the security of our men; for having gained time, they retired to the higher grounds. There were missing that day about two hundred bow-men, a few horse, and an inconsiderable number of servants and baggage. LII.--However, by all these things, the price of provisions was raised, which is commonly a disaster attendant, not only on a time of present scarcity, but on the apprehension of future want. Provisions had now reached fifty denarii each bushel; and the want of corn had diminished the strength of the soldiers; and the inconveniences were increasing every day: and so great an alteration was wrought in a few days, and fortune had so changed sides, that our men had to struggle with the want of every necessary; while the enemy had an abundant supply of all things, and were considered to have the advantage. Caesar demanded from those states which had acceded to his alliance, a supply of cattle, as they had but little corn. He sent away the camp followers to the more distant states, and endeavoured to remedy the present scarcity by every resource in his power. LIII.--Afranius and Petreius, and their friends, sent fuller and more circumstantial accounts of these things to Rome, to their acquaintances. Report exaggerated them so that the war appeared to be almost at an end. When these letters and despatches were received at Rome, a great concourse of people resorted to the house of Afranius, and congratulations ran high: several went out of Italy to Cneius Pompey; some of them, to be the first to bring him the intelligence; others, that they might not be thought to have waited the issue of the war, and to have come last of all. LIV.--When Caesar's affairs were in this unfavourable position, and all the passes were guarded by the soldiers and horse of Afranius, and the bridges could not be prepared, Caesar ordered his soldiers to make ships of the kind that his knowledge of Britain a few years before had taught him. First, the keels and ribs were made of light timber, then, the rest of the hulk of the ships was wrought with wicker-work, and covered over with hides. When these were finished, he drew them down to the river in waggons in one night, a distance of twenty-two miles from his camp, and transported in them some soldiers across the river, and on a sudden took possession of a hill adjoining the bank. This he immediately fortified, before he was perceived by the enemy. To this he afterwards transported a legion: and having begun a bridge on both sides, he finished it in two days. By this means, he brought safe to his camp the convoys, and those who had gone out to forage; and began to prepare a conveyance for the provisions. LV.--The same day he made a great part of his horse pass the river, who, falling on the foragers by surprise as they were dispersed without any suspicions, intercepted an incredible number of cattle and people; and when some Spanish light-armed cohorts were sent to reinforce the enemy, our men judiciously divided themselves into two parts, the one to protect the spoil, the other to resist the advancing foe, and to beat them back, and they cut off from the rest and surrounded one cohort, which had rashly ventured out of the line before the others, and after putting it to the sword, returned safe with considerable booty to the camp over the same bridge. LVI.--Whilst these affairs are going forward at Ilerda, the Massilians, adopting the advice of Domitius, prepared seventeen ships of war, of which eleven were decked. To these they add several smaller vessels, that our fleet might be terrified by numbers: they man them with a great number of archers and of the Albici, of whom mention has been already made, and these they incited by rewards and promises. Domitius required certain ships for his own use, which he manned with colonists and shepherds, whom he had brought along with him. A fleet being thus furnished with every necessary, he advanced with great confidence against our ships, commanded by Decimus Brutus. It was stationed at an island opposite to Massilia. LVII.--Brutus was much inferior in number of ships; but Caesar had appointed to that fleet the bravest men selected from all his legions, antesignani and centurions, who had requested to be employed in that service. They had provided iron hooks and harpoons, and had furnished themselves with a vast number of javelins, darts, and missiles. Thus prepared, and being apprised of the enemy's approach, they put out from the harbour, and engaged the Massilians. Both sides fought with great courage and resolution; nor did the Albici, a hardy people, bred on the highlands and inured to arms, fall much short of our men in valour: and being lately come from the Massilians, they retained in their minds their recent promises: and the wild shepherds, encouraged by the hope of liberty, were eager to prove their zeal in the presence of their masters. LVIII.--The Massilians themselves, confiding in the quickness of their ships, and the skill of their pilots, eluded ours, and evaded the shock, and as long as they were permitted by clear space, lengthening their line they endeavoured to surround us, or to attack single ships with several of theirs, or to run across our ships, and carry away our oars, if possible; but when necessity obliged them to come nearer, they had recourse, from the skill and art of the pilots, to the valour of the mountaineers. But our men, not having such expert seamen, or skilful pilots, for they had been hastily drafted from the merchant ships, and were not yet acquainted even with the names of the rigging, were moreover impeded by the heaviness and slowness of our vessels, which having been built in a hurry and of green timber, were not so easily manoeuvred. Therefore, when Caesar's men had an opportunity of a close engagement, they cheerfully opposed two of the enemy's ships with one of theirs. And throwing in the grappling irons, and holding both ships fast, they fought on both sides of the deck, and boarded the enemy's; and having killed numbers of the Albici and shepherds, they sank some of their ships, took others with the men on board, and drove the rest into the harbour. That day the Massilians lost nine ships, including those that were taken. LIX.--When news of this battle was brought to Caesar at Ilerda, the bridge being completed at the same time, fortune soon took a turn. The enemy, daunted by the courage of our horse, did not scour the country as freely or as boldly as before: but sometimes advancing a small distance from the camp, that they might have a ready retreat, they foraged within narrower bounds: at other times, they took a longer circuit to avoid our outposts and parties of horse; or having sustained some loss, or descried our horse at a distance, they fled in the midst of their expedition, leaving their baggage behind them; at length they resolved to leave off foraging for several days, and, contrary to the practice of all nations, to go out at night. LX.--In the meantime the Oscenses and the Calagurritani, who were under the government of the Oscenses, send ambassadors to Caesar, and offer to submit to his orders. They are followed by the Tarraconenses, Jacetani, and Ausetani, and in a few days more by the Illurgavonenses, who dwell near the river Ebro. He requires of them all to assist him with corn, to which they agreed, and having collected all the cattle in the country, they convey them into his camp. One entire cohort of the Illurgavonenses, knowing the design of their state, came over to Caesar, from the place where they were stationed, and carried their colours with them. A great change is shortly made in the face of affairs. The bridge being finished, five powerful states being joined to Caesar, a way opened for the receiving of corn, and the rumours of the assistance of legions which were said to be on their march, with Pompey at their head, through Mauritania, having died away, several of the more distant states revolt from Afranius, and enter into league with Caesar. LXI.--Whilst the spirits of the enemy were dismayed at these things, Caesar, that he might not be always obliged to send his horse a long circuit round by the bridge, having found a convenient place, began to sink several drains, thirty feet deep, by which he might draw off a part of the river Segre, and make a ford over it. When these were almost finished, Afranius and Petreius began to be greatly alarmed, lest they should be altogether cut off from corn and forage, because Caesar was very strong in cavalry. They therefore resolved to quit their posts, and to transfer the war to Celtiberia. There was, moreover, a circumstance that confirmed them in this resolution: for of the two adverse parties, that which had stood by Sertorius in the late war, being conquered by Pompey, still trembled at his name and sway, though absent: the other which had remained firm in Pompey's interest, loved him for the favours which they had received: but Caesar's name was not known to the barbarians. From these they expected considerable aid, both of horse and foot, and hoped to protract the war till winter, in a friendly country. Having come to this resolution, they gave orders to collect all the ships in the river Ebro, and to bring them to Octogesa, a town situated on the river Ebro, about twenty miles distant from their camp. At this part of the river, they ordered a bridge to be made of boats fastened together, and transported two legions over the river Segre, and fortified their camp with a rampart, twelve feet high. LXII.--Notice of this being given by the scouts, Caesar continued his work day and night, with very great fatigue to the soldiers, to drain the river, and so far effected his purpose, that the horse were both able and bold enough, though with some difficulty and danger, to pass the river; but the foot had only their shoulders and upper part of their breast above the water, so that their fording it was retarded, not only by the depth of the water, but also by the rapidity of the current. However, almost at the same instant, news was received of the bridge being nearly completed over the Ebro, and a ford was found in the Segre. LXIII.--Now indeed the enemy began to think that they ought to hasten their march. Accordingly, leaving two auxiliary cohorts in the garrison at Ilerda, they crossed the Segre with their whole force, and formed one camp with the two legions which they had led across a few days before. Caesar had no resource, but to annoy and cut down their rear; since with his cavalry to go by the bridge, required him to take a long circuit; so that they would arrive at the Ebro by a much shorter route. The horse, which he had detached, crossed the ford, and when Afranius and Petreius had broken up their camp about the third watch, they suddenly appeared on their rear, and spreading round them in great numbers, began to retard and impede their march. LXIV.--At break of day, it was perceived from the rising grounds which joined Caesar's camp, that their rear was vigorously pressed by our horse; that the last line sometimes halted and was broken; at other times, that they joined battle and that our men were beaten back by a general charge of their cohorts, and, in their turn, pursued them when they wheeled about: but through the whole camp the soldiers gathered in parties, and declared their chagrin that the enemy had been suffered to escape from their hands and that the war had been unnecessarily protracted. They applied to their tribunes and centurions, and entreated them to inform Caesar that he need not spare their labour or consider their danger; that they were ready and able, and would venture to ford the river where the horse had crossed. Caesar, encouraged by their zeal and importunity, though he felt reluctant to expose his army to a river so exceedingly large, yet judged it prudent to attempt it and make a trial. Accordingly, he ordered all the weaker soldiers, whose spirit or strength seemed unequal to the fatigue, to be selected from each century, and left them, with one legion besides, to guard the camp: the rest of the legions he drew out without any baggage, and, having disposed a great number of horses in the river, above and below the ford, he led his army over. A few of his soldiers being carried away by the force of the current, were stopped by the horse and taken up, and not a man perished. His army being safe on the opposite bank, he drew out his forces and resolved to lead them forward in three battalions: and so great was the ardour of the soldiers that, notwithstanding the addition of a circuit of six miles and a considerable delay in fording the river, before the ninth hour of the day they came up with those who had set out at the third watch. LXV.--When Afranius, who was in company with Petreius, saw them at a distance, being affrighted at so unexpected a sight, he halted on a rising ground and drew up his army. Caesar refreshed his army on the plain that he might not expose them to battle whilst fatigued; and when the enemy attempted to renew their march, he pursued and stopped them. They were obliged to pitch their camp sooner than they had intended, for there were mountains at a small distance; and difficult and narrow roads awaited them about five miles off. They retired behind these mountains that they might avoid Caesar's cavalry, and, placing parties in the narrow roads, stop the progress of his army and lead their own forces across the Ebro without danger or apprehension. This it was their interest to attempt and to effect by any means possible; but, fatigued by the skirmishes all day, and by the labour of their march, they deferred it till the following day: Caesar likewise encamped on the next hill. LXVI.--About midnight a few of their men who had gone some distance from the camp to fetch water, being taken by our horse, Caesar is informed by them that the generals of the enemy were drawing their troops out of the camp without noise. Upon this information Caesar ordered the signal to be given and the military shout to be raised for packing up the baggage. When they heard the shout, being afraid lest they should be stopped in the night and obliged to engage under their baggage, or lest they should be confined in the narrow roads by Caesar's horse, they put a stop to their march and kept their forces in their camp. The next day Petreius went out privately with a few horse to reconnoitre the country. A similar movement was made from Caesar's camp. Lucius Decidius Saxa was detached with a small party to explore the nature of the country. Each returned with the same account to his camp, that there was a level road for the next five miles, that there then succeeded a rough and mountainous country. Whichever should first obtain possession of the defiles would have no trouble in preventing the other's progress. LXVII.--There was a debate in the council between Afranius and Petreius, and the time of marching was the subject. The majority were of opinion that they should begin their march at night, "for they might reach the defiles before they should be discovered." Others, because a shout had been raised the night before in Caesar's camp, used this as an argument that they could not leave the camp unnoticed: "that Caesar's cavalry were patrolling the whole night, and that all the ways and roads were beset; that battles at night ought to be avoided, because in civil dissension, a soldier once daunted is more apt to consult his fears than his oath; that the daylight raised a strong sense of shame in the eyes of all, and that the presence of the tribunes and centurions had the same effect: by these things the soldiers would be re strained and awed to their duty. Wherefore they should, by all means, attempt to force their way by day; for, though a trifling loss might be sustained, yet the post which they desired might be secured with safety to the main body of the army." This opinion prevailed in the council, and the next day, at the dawn, they resolved to set forward. LXVIII.--Caesar, having taken a view of the country, the moment the sky began to grow white, led his forces from the camp and marched at the head of his army by a long circuit, keeping to no regular road; for the road which led to the Ebro and Octogesa was occupied by the enemy's camp, which lay in Caesar's way. His soldiers were obliged to cross extensive and difficult valleys. Craggy cliffs, in several places, interrupted their march, insomuch that their arms had to be handed to one another, and the soldiers were forced to perform a great part of their march unarmed, and were lifted up the rocks by each other. But not a man murmured at the fatigue, because they imagined that there would be a period to all their toils if they could cut off the enemy from the Ebro and intercept their convoys. LXIX.--At first, Afranius's soldiers ran in high spirits from their camp to look at us, and in contumelious language upbraided us, "that we were forced, for want of necessary subsistence, to run away, and return to Ilerda." For our route was different from what we proposed, and we appeared to be going a contrary way. But their generals applauded their own prudence in keeping within their camp, and it was a strong confirmation of their opinion, that they saw we marched without waggons or baggage, which made them confident that we could not long endure want. But when they saw our army gradually wheel to the right, and observed our van was already passing the line of their camp, there was nobody so stupid, or averse to fatigue, as not to think it necessary to march from the camp immediately, and oppose us. The cry to arms was raised, and all the army, except a few which were left to guard the camp, set out and marched the direct road to the Ebro. LXX.--The contest depended entirely on despatch, which should first get possession of the defile and the mountain. The difficulty of the roads delayed Caesar's army, but his cavalry pursuing Afranius's forces, retarded their march. However, the affair was necessarily reduced to this point, with respect to Afranius's men, that if they first gained the mountains, which they desired, they would themselves avoid all danger, but could not save the baggage of their whole army, nor the cohorts which they had left behind in the camps, to which, being intercepted by Caesar's army, by no means could assistance be given. Caesar first accomplished the march, and having found a plain behind large rocks, drew up his army there in order of battle and facing the enemy. Afranius, perceiving that his rear was galled by our cavalry, and seeing the enemy before him, having come to a hill, made a halt on it. Thence he detached four cohorts of Spanish light infantry to the highest mountain which was in view: to this he ordered them to hasten with all expedition, and to take possession of it, with the intention of going to the same place with all his forces, then altering his route, and crossing the hills to Octogesa. As the Spaniards were making towards it in an oblique direction, Caesar's horse espied them and attacked them, nor were they able to withstand the charge of the cavalry even for a moment, but were all surrounded and cut to pieces in the sight of the two armies. LXXI.--There was now an opportunity for managing affairs successfully, nor did it escape Caesar, that an army daunted at suffering such a loss before their eyes, could not stand, especially as they were surrounded by our horse, and the engagement would take place on even and open ground. To this he was importuned on all sides. The lieutenants, centurions, and tribunes, gathered round him, and begged "that he would not hesitate to begin the battle: that the hearts of all the soldiers were very anxious for it: that Afranius's men had by several circumstances betrayed signs of fear; in that they had not assisted their party; in that they had not quitted the hill; in that they did not sustain the charge of our cavalry, but crowding their standards into one place, did not observe either rank or order. But if he had any apprehensions from the disadvantage of the ground, that an opportunity would be given him of coming to battle in some other place: for that Afranius must certainly come down, and would not be able to remain there for want of water." LXXII.--Caesar had conceived hopes of ending the affair without an engagement, or without striking a blow, because he had cut off the enemy's supplies. Why should he hazard the loss of any of his men, even in a successful battle? Why should he expose soldiers to be wounded; who had deserved so well of him? Why, in short, should he tempt fortune? especially when it was as much a general's duty to conquer by tactics, as by the sword. Besides, he was moved with compassion for those citizens, who, he foresaw, must fall: and he had rather gain his object without any loss or injury to them. This resolution of Caesar was not generally approved of; but the soldiers openly declared to each other, that since such an opportunity of victory was let pass, they would not come to an engagement, even when Caesar should wish it. He persevered however in his resolution, and retired a little from that place to abate the enemy's fears. Petreius and Afranius, having got this opportunity, retired to their camp. Caesar, having disposed parties on the mountains, and cut off all access to the Ebro, fortified his camp as close to the enemy as he could. LXXIII.--The day following, the generals of his opponents, being alarmed that they had lost all prospect of supplies, and of access to the Ebro, consulted as to what other course they should take. There were two roads, one to Ilerda, if they chose to return, the other to Tarraco, if they should march to it. Whilst they were deliberating on these matters, intelligence was brought them that their watering parties were attacked by our horse: upon which information, they dispose several parties of horse and auxiliary foot along the road, and intermix some legionary cohorts, and begin to throw up a rampart from the camp to the water, that they might be able to procure water within their lines, both without fear, and without a guard. Petreius and Afranius divided this task between themselves, and went in person to some distance from their camp for the purpose of seeing it accomplished. LXXIV.--The soldiers having obtained by their absence a free opportunity of conversing with each other, came out in great numbers, and inquired each for whatever acquaintance or fellow citizen he had in our camp, and invited him to him. First they returned them general thanks for sparing them the day before, when they were greatly terrified, and acknowledged that they were alive through their kindness; then they inquired about the honour of our general, and whether they could with safety entrust themselves to him; and declared their sorrow that they had not done so in the beginning, and that they had taken up arms against their relations and kinsmen. Encouraged by these conferences, they desired the general's parole for the lives of Petreius and Afranius, that they might not appear guilty of a crime, in having betrayed their generals. When they were assured of obtaining their demands, they promised that they would immediately remove their standards, and sent centurions of the first rank as deputies to treat with Caesar about a peace. In the meantime some of them invite their acquaintances, and bring them to their camp, others are brought away by their friends, so that the two camps seemed to be united into one, and several of the tribunes and centurions came to Caesar, and paid their respects to him. The same was done by some of the nobility of Spain, whom they summoned to their assistance, and kept in their camp as hostages. They inquired after their acquaintance and friends, by whom each might have the means of being recommended to Caesar. Even Afranius's son, a young man, endeavoured by means of Sulpitius the lieutenant, to make terms for his own and his father's life. Every place was filled with mirth and congratulations; in the one army, because they thought they had escaped so impending danger; in the other, because they thought they had completed so important a matter without blows; and Caesar, in every man's judgment, reaped the advantage of his former lenity, and his conduct was applauded by all. LXXV.--When these circumstances were announced to Afranius, he left the work which he had begun, and returned to his camp determined, as it appeared, whatever should be the event to bear it with an even and steady mind. Petreius did not neglect himself; he armed his domestics; with them and the praetorian cohort of Spaniards, and a few foreign horse, his dependants, whom he commonly kept near him to guard his person, he suddenly flew to the rampart, interrupted the conferences of the soldiers, drove our men from the camp, and put to death as many as he caught. The rest formed into a body, and, being alarmed by the unexpected danger, wrapped their left arms in their cloaks, and drew their swords, and in this manner, depending on the nearness of their camp, defended themselves against the Spaniards, and the horse, and made good their retreat to the camp, where they were protected by the cohorts, which were on guard. LXXVI.--Petreius, after accomplishing this, went round every maniple, calling the soldiers by their names and entreating with tears, that they would not give up him and their absent general Pompey, as a sacrifice to the vengeance of their enemies. Immediately they ran in crowds to the general's pavilion, when he required them all to take an oath that they would not desert nor betray the army nor the generals, nor form any design distinct from the general interest. He himself swore first to the tenor of those words, and obliged Afranius to take the same oath. The tribunes and centurions followed their example; the soldiers were brought out by centuries, and took the same oath. They gave orders, that whoever had any of Caesar's soldiers should produce them; as soon as they were produced, they put them to death publicly in the praetorium, but most of them concealed those that they had entertained, and let them out at night over the rampart. Thus the terror raised by the generals, the cruelty of the punishments, the new obligation of an oath, removed all hopes of surrender for the present, changed the soldiers' minds, and reduced matters to the former state of war. LXXVII.--Caesar ordered the enemy's soldiers, who had come into his camp to hold a conference, to be searched for with the strictest diligence, and sent back. But of the tribunes and centurions, several voluntarily remained with him, and he afterwards treated them with great respect. The centurions he promoted to higher ranks, and conferred on the Roman knights the honour of tribunes. LXXVIII.--Afranius's men were distressed in foraging, and procured water with difficulty. The legionary soldiers had a tolerable supply of corn, because they had been ordered to bring from Ilerda sufficient to last twenty-two days; the Spanish and auxiliary forces had none, for they had but few opportunities of procuring any, and their bodies were not accustomed to bear burdens; and therefore a great number of them came over to Caesar every day. Their affairs were under these difficulties; but of the two schemes proposed, the most expedient seemed to be to return to Ilerda, because they had left some corn there; and there they hoped to decide on a plan for their future conduct. Tarraco lay at a greater distance; and in such a space they knew affairs might admit of many changes. Their design having met with approbation, they set out from their camp. Caesar having sent forward his cavalry, to annoy and retard their rear, followed close after with his legions. Not a moment passed in which their rear was not engaged with our horse. LXXIX.--Their manner of fighting was this: the light cohorts closed their rear, and frequently made a stand on the level grounds. If they had a mountain to ascend, the very nature of the place readily secured them from any danger; for the advanced guards, from the rising grounds, protected the rest in their ascent. When they approached a valley or declivity, and the advanced men could not impart assistance to the tardy, our horse threw their darts at them from the rising grounds with advantage; then their affairs were in a perilous situation; the only plan left was, that whenever they came near such places, they should give orders to the legions to halt, and by a violent effort repulse our horse; and these being forced to give way, they should suddenly, with the utmost speed, run all together down to the valley, and having passed it, should face about again on the next hill. For so far were they from deriving any assistance from their horse (of which they had a large number), that they were obliged to receive them into the centre of their army, and themselves protect them, as they were daunted by former battles. And on their march no one could quit the line without being taken by Caesar's horse. LXXX.--Whilst skirmishes were fought in this manner, they advanced but slowly and gradually, and frequently halted to help their rear, as then happened. For having advanced four miles, and being very much harassed by our horse, they took post on a high mountain, and there entrenched themselves on the front only, facing the enemy; and did not take their baggage off their cattle. When they perceived that Caesar's camp was pitched, and the tents fixed up, and his horse sent out to forage, they suddenly rushed out about twelve o'clock the same day, and, having hopes that we should be delayed by the absence of our horse, they began to march, which Caesar perceiving, followed them with the legions that remained. He left a few cohorts to guard his baggage, and ordered the foragers to be called home at the tenth hour, and the horse to follow him. The horse shortly returned to their daily duty on march, and charged the rear so vigorously, that they almost forced them to fly; and several privates and some centurions were killed. The main body of Caesar's army was at hand, and universal ruin threatened them. LXXXI.--Then indeed, not having opportunity either to choose a convenient position for their camp, or to march forward, they were obliged to halt, and to encamp at a distance from water, and on ground naturally unfavourable. But for the reasons already given, Caesar did not attack them, nor suffer a tent to be pitched that day, that his men might be the readier to pursue them whether they attempted to run off by night or by day. Observing the defect in their position, they spent the whole night in extending their works, and turn their camp to ours. The next day, at dawn, they do the same, and spend the whole day in that manner, but in proportion as they advanced their works, and extended their camp, they were farther distant from the water; and one evil was remedied by another. The first night, no one went out for water. The next day, they left a guard in the camp, and led out all their forces to water: but not a person was sent to look for forage. Caesar was more desirous that they should be humbled by these means, and forced to come to terms, than decide the contest by battle. Yet he endeavoured to surround them with a wall and trench, that he might be able to check their most sudden sally, to which he imagined that they must have recourse. Hereupon, urged by want of fodder, that they might be the readier for a march, they killed all their baggage cattle. LXXXII.--In this work, and the deliberations on it, two days were spent. By the third day a considerable part of Caesar's works was finished. To interrupt his progress, they drew out their legions about the eighth hour, by a certain signal, and placed them in order of battle before their camp. Caesar calling his legions off from their work, and ordering the horse to hold themselves in readiness, marshalled his army: for to appear to decline an engagement contrary to the opinion of the soldiers and the general voice, would have been attended with great disadvantage. But for the reasons already known, he was dissuaded from wishing to engage, and the more especially, because the short space between the camps, even if the enemy were put to flight, would not contribute much to a decisive victory; for the two camps were not distant from each other above two thousand feet. Two parts of this were occupied by the armies, and one third left for the soldiers to charge and make their attack. If a battle should be begun, the nearness of the camps would afford a ready retreat to the conquered party in the flight. For this reason Caesar had resolved to make resistance, if they attacked him, but not to be the first to provoke the battle. LXXXIII.--Afranius's five legions were drawn up in two lines, the auxiliary cohorts formed the third line, and acted as reserves. Caesar had three lines, four cohorts out of each of the five legions formed the first line. Three more from each legion followed them, as reserves: and three others were behind these. The slingers and archers were stationed in the centre of the line; the cavalry closed the flanks. The hostile armies being arranged in this manner, each seemed determined to adhere to his first intention: Caesar not to hazard a battle, unless forced to it; Afranius to interrupt Caesar's works. However, the matter was deferred, and both armies kept under arms till sunset; when they both returned to their camp. The next day Caesar prepared to finish the works which he had begun. The enemy attempted to pass the river Segre by a ford. Caesar, having perceived this, sent some light-armed Germans and a party of horse across the river, and disposed several parties along the banks to guard them. LXXXIV.--At length, beset on all sides, their cattle having been four days without fodder, and having no water, wood, or corn, they beg a conference; and that, if possible, in a place remote from the soldiers. When this was refused by Caesar, but a public interview offered if they chose it, Afranius's son was given as a hostage to Caesar. They met in the place appointed by Caesar. In the hearing of both armies, Afranius spoke thus: "That Caesar ought not to be displeased either with him or his soldiers, for wishing to preserve their attachment to their general, Cneius Pompey. That they had now sufficiently discharged their duty to him, and had suffered punishment enough, in having endured the want of every necessary: but now, pent up almost like wild beasts, they were prevented from procuring water, and prevented from walking abroad; and were not able to bear the bodily pain or the mental disgrace: but confessed themselves vanquished: and begged and entreated, if there was any room left for mercy, that they should not be necessitated to suffer the most severe penalties." These sentiments were delivered in the most submissive and humble language. LXXXV.--Caesar replied, "That either to complain or sue for mercy became no man less than him: for that every other person had done their duty: himself, in having declined to engage on favourable terms, in an advantageous situation and time, that all things tending to a peace might be totally unembarrassed: his army, in having preserved and protected the men whom they had in their power, notwithstanding the injuries which they had received, and the murder of their comrades; and even Afranius's soldiers, who of themselves treated about concluding a peace, by which they thought that they would secure the lives of all. Thus, that the parties on both sides inclined to mercy: that the generals only were averse to peace: that they paid no regard to the laws either of conference or truce; and had most inhumanly put to death ignorant persons, who were deceived by a conference: that therefore, they had met that fate which usually befalls men from excessive obstinacy and arrogance; and were obliged to have recourse, and most earnestly desire that which they had shortly before disdained. That for his part, he would not avail himself of their present humiliation, or his present advantage, to require terms by which his power might be increased, but only that those armies, which they had maintained for so many years to oppose him, should be disbanded: for six legions had been sent into Spain, and a seventh raised there, and many and powerful fleets provided, and generals of great military experience sent to command them, for no other purpose than to oppose him; that none of these measures were adopted to keep the Spains in peace, or for the use of the province, which, from the length of the peace, stood in need of no such aid; that all these things were long since designed against him: that against him a new sort of government was established, that the same person should be at the gates of Rome, to direct the affairs of the city; and though absent, have the government of two most warlike provinces for so many years: that against him the laws of the magistrates had been altered; that the late praetors and consuls should not be sent to govern the provinces as had been the constant custom, but persons approved of and chosen by a faction. That against him the excuse of age was not admitted: but persons of tried experience in former wars were called up to take the command of the armies, that with respect to him only, the routine was not observed which had been allowed to all generals, that, after a successful war, they should return home and disband their armies, if not with some mark of honour, at least without disgrace: that he had submitted to all these things patiently, and would still submit to them: nor did he now desire to take their army from them and keep it to himself (which, however, would not be a difficult matter), but only that they should not have it to employ against him: and therefore, as he said before, let them quit the provinces, and disband their army. If this was complied with, he would injure no person; that these were the last and only conditions of peace." LXXXVI.--It was very acceptable and agreeable to Afranius's soldiers, as might be easily known from their signs of joy, that they who expected some injury after this defeat, should obtain without solicitation the reward of a dismissal. For when a debate was introduced about the place and time of their dismissal, they all began to express, both by words and signs, from the rampart where they stood, that they should be discharged immediately: for although every security might be given that they would be disbanded, still the matter would be uncertain, if it was deferred to a future day. After a short debate on either side, it was brought to this issue: that those who had any settlement or possession in Spain, should be immediately discharged: the rest at the river Var. Caesar gave security that they should receive no damage, and that no person should be obliged against his inclination to take the military oath under him. LXXXVII.--Caesar promised to supply them with corn from the present time, till they arrived at the river Var. He further adds, that whatever any of them lost in the war, which was in the possession of his soldiers, should be restored to those that lost them. To his soldiers he made a recompense in money for those things, a just valuation being made. Whatever disputes Afranius's soldiers had afterwards amongst themselves, they voluntarily submitted to Caesar's decision. Afranius and Petreius, when pay was demanded by the legions, a sedition almost breaking out, asserted that the time had not yet come, and required that Caesar should take cognizance of it: and both parties were content with his decision. About a third part of their army being dismissed in two days, Caesar ordered two of his legions to go before, the rest to follow the vanquished enemy: that they should encamp at a small distance from each other. The execution of this business he gave in charge to Quintus Fufius Kalenus, one of his lieutenants. According to his directions, they marched from Spain to the river Var, and there the rest of the army was disbanded. BOOK II I.--Whilst these things were going forward in Spain, Caius Trebonius, Caesar's lieutenant, who had been left to conduct the assault of Massilia, began to raise a mound, vineae, and turrets against the town, on two sides: one of which was next the harbour and docks, the other on that part where there is a passage from Gaul and Spain to that sea which forces itself up the mouth of the Rhone. For Massilia is washed almost on three sides by the sea, the remaining fourth part is the only side which has access by land. A part even of this space, which reaches to the fortress, being fortified by the nature of the country, and a very deep valley, required a long and difficult siege. To accomplish these works, Caius Trebonius sends for a great quantity of carriages and men from the whole Province, and orders hurdles and materials to be furnished. These things being provided, he raised a mound eighty feet in height. II.--But so great a store of everything necessary for a war had been a long time before laid up in the town, and so great a number of engines, that no vineae made of hurdles could withstand their force. For poles twelve feet in length, pointed with iron, and these too shot from very large engines, sank into the ground through four rows of hurdles. Therefore the arches of the vineae were covered over with beams a foot thick, fastened together, and under this the materials of the agger were handed from one to another. Before this was carried a testudo sixty feet long, for levelling the ground, made also of very strong timber, and covered over with every thing that was capable of protecting it against the fire and stones thrown by the enemy. But the greatness of the works, the height of the wall and towers, and the multitude of engines retarded the progress of our works. Besides, frequent sallies were made from the town by the Albici, and fire was thrown on our mound and turrets. These our men easily repulsed, and, doing considerable damage to those who sallied, beat them back into the town. III.--In the meantime, Lucius Nasidius, being sent by Cneius Pompey with a fleet of sixteen sail, a few of which had beaks of brass, to the assistance of Lucius Domitius and the Massilians, passed the straits of Sicily without the knowledge or expectation of Curio, and, putting with his fleet into Messana, and making the nobles and senate take flight with the sudden terror, carried off one of their ships out of dock. Having joined this to his other ships, he made good his voyage to Massilia, and, having sent in a galley privately, acquaints Domitius and the Massilians of his arrival, and earnestly encourages them to hazard another battle with Brutus's fleet with the addition of his aid. IV.--The Massilians, since their former loss, had brought the same number of old ships from the docks, and had repaired and fitted them out with great industry: they had a large supply of seamen and pilots. They had got several fishing-smacks, and covered them over, that the seamen might be secure against darts: these they filled with archers and engines. With a fleet thus appointed, encouraged by the entreaties and tears of all the old men, matrons, and virgins to succour the state in this hour of distress, they went on board with no less spirit and confidence than they had fought before. For it happens, from a common infirmity of human nature, that we are more flushed with confidence, or more vehemently alarmed at things unseen, concealed, and unknown, as was the case then. For the arrival of Lucius Nasidius had filled the state with the most sanguine hopes and wishes. Having got a fair wind, they sailed out of port and went to Nasidius to Taurois, which is a fort belonging to the Massilians, and there ranged their fleet and again encouraged each other to engage, and communicated their plan of operation. The command of the right division was given to the Massilians, that of the left to Nasidius. V.--Brutus sailed to the same place with an augmented fleet: for to those made by Caesar at Arelas were added six ships taken from the Massilians, which he had refitted since the last battle and had furnished with every necessary. Accordingly, having encouraged his men to despise a vanquished people whom they had conquered when yet unbroken, he advanced against them full of confidence and spirit. From Trebonius's camp and all the higher grounds it was easy to see into the town--how all the youth which remained in it, and all persons of more advanced years, with their wives and children, and the public guards, were either extending their hands from the wall to the heavens, or were repairing to the temples of the immortal gods, and, prostrating themselves before their images, were entreating them to grant them victory. Nor was there a single person who did not imagine that his future fortune depended on the issue of that day; for the choice of their youth and the most respectable of every age, being expressly invited and solicited, had gone on board the fleet, that if any adverse fate should befall them they might see that nothing was left for them to attempt, and, if they proved victorious, they might have hopes of preserving the city, either by their internal resources or by foreign assistance. VI-.-When the battle was begun, no effort of valour was wanting to the Massilians, but, mindful of the instructions which they had a little before received from their friends, they fought with such spirit as if they supposed that they would never have another opportunity to attempt a defence, and as if they believed that those whose lives should be endangered in the battle would not long precede the fate of the rest of the citizens, who, if the city was taken, must undergo the same fortune of war. Our ships being at some distance from each other, room was allowed both for the skill of their pilots and the manoeuvring of their ships; and if at any time ours, gaining an advantage by casting the iron hooks on board their ships, grappled with them, from all parts they assisted those who were distressed. Nor, after being joined by the Albici, did they decline coming to close engagement, nor were they much inferior to our men in valour. At the same time, showers of darts, thrown from a distance from the lesser ships, suddenly inflicted several wounds on our men when off their guard and otherwise engaged; and two of their three-decked galleys, having descried the ship of Decimus Brutus, which could be easily distinguished by its flag, rowed up against him with great violence from opposite sides: but Brutus, seeing into their designs, by the swiftness of his ship extricated himself with such address as to get clear, though only by a moment. From the velocity of their motion they struck against each other with such violence that they were both excessively injured by the shock; the beak, indeed, of one of them being broken off, the whole ship was ready to founder, which circumstance being observed, the ships of Brutus's fleet, which were nearest that station, attack them when in this disorder and sink them both. VII.--But Nasidius's ships were of no use, and soon left the fight; for the sight of their country, or the entreaties of their relations, did not urge them to run a desperate risk of their lives. Therefore, of the number of the ships not one was lost: of the fleet of the Massilians five were sunk, four taken, and one ran off with Nasidius: all that escaped made the best of their way to Hither Spain, but one of the rest was sent forward to Massilia for the purpose of bearing this intelligence, and when it came near the city, the whole people crowded out to hear the tidings, and on being informed of the event, were so oppressed with grief, that one would have imagined that the city had been taken by an enemy at the same moment. The Massilians, however, began to make the necessary preparations for the defence of their city with unwearied energy. VIII.--The legionary soldiers who had the management of the works on the right side observed, from the frequent sallies of the enemy, that it might prove a great protection to them to build a turret of brick under the wall for a fort and place of refuge, which they at first built low and small, [to guard them] against sudden attacks. To it they retreated, and from it they made defence if any superior force attacked them; and from it they sallied out either to repel or pursue the enemy. It extended thirty feet on every side, and the thickness of the walls was five feet. But afterwards, as experience is the best master in everything on which the wit of man is employed, it was found that it might be of considerable service if it was raised to the usual height of turrets, which was effected in the following manner. IX.-When the turret was raised to the height for flooring, they laid it on the walls in such a manner that the ends of the joists were covered by the outer face of the wall, that nothing should project to which the enemy's fire might adhere. They, moreover, built over the joists with small bricks as high as the protection of the plutei and vineae permitted them; and on that place they laid two beams across, angle-ways, at a small distance from the outer walls, to support the rafters which were to cover the turret, and on the beams they laid joists across in a direct line, and on these they fastened down planks. These joists they made somewhat longer, to project beyond the outside of the wall, that they might serve to hang a curtain on them to defend and repel all blows whilst they were building the walls between that and the next floor, and the floor of this story they faced with bricks and mortar, that the enemy's fire might do them no damage; and on this they spread mattresses, lest the weapons thrown from engines should break through the flooring, or stones from catapults should batter the brickwork. They, moreover, made three mats of cable ropes, each of them the length of the turret walls, and four feet broad, and, hanging them round the turret on the three sides which faced the enemy, fastened them to the projecting joists. For this was the only sort of defence which, they had learned by experience in other places, could not be pierced by darts or engines. But when that part of the turret which was completed was protected and secured against every attempt of the enemy, they removed the plutei to other works. They began to suspend gradually, and raise by screws from the first-floor, the entire roof of the turret, and then they elevated it as high as the length of the mats allowed. Hid and secured within these coverings, they built up the walls with bricks, and again, by another turn of the screw, cleared a place for themselves to proceed with the building; and, when they thought it time to lay another floor, they laid the ends of the beams, covered in by the outer bricks in like manner as in the first story, and from that story they again raised the uppermost floor and the mat-work. In this manner, securely and without a blow or danger, they raised it six stories high, and in laying the materials left loop-holes in such places as they thought proper for working their engines. X.--When they were confident that they could protect the works which lay around from this turret, they resolved to build a musculus, sixty feet long, of timber, two feet square, and to extend it from the brick tower to the enemy's tower and wall. This was the form of it: two beams of equal length were laid on the ground, at the distance of four feet from each other; and in them were fastened small pillars, five feet high, which were joined together by braces, with a gentle slope, on which the timber which they must place to support the roof of the musculus should be laid: upon this were laid beams, two feet square, bound with iron plates and nails. To the upper covering of the musculus and the upper beams, they fastened laths, four fingers square, to support the tiles which were to cover the musculus. The roof being thus sloped and laid over in rows in the same manner as the joists were laid on the braces, the musculus was covered with tiles and mortar, to secure it against fire, which might be thrown from the wall. Over the tiles hides are spread, to prevent the water let in on them by spouts from dissolving the cement of the bricks. Again, the hides were covered over with mattresses, that they might not be destroyed by fire or stones. The soldiers under the protection of the vineae, finish this whole work to the very tower, and suddenly, before the enemy were aware of it, moved it forward by naval machinery, by putting rollers under it, close up to the enemy's turret, so that it even touched the building. XI.--The townsmen, affrighted at this unexpected stroke, bring forward with levers the largest stones they can procure; and pitching them from the wall, roll them down on the musculus. The strength of the timber withstood the shock; and whatever fell on it slid off, on account of the sloping roof. When they perceived this, they altered their plan and set fire to barrels, filled with resin and tar, and rolled them down from the wall on the musculus. As soon as they fell on it, they slid off again, and were removed from its side by long poles and forks. In the meantime, the soldiers, under cover of the musculus, were looting out with crowbars the lowest stones of the enemy's turret, with which the foundation was laid. The musculus was defended by darts, thrown from engines by our men from the brick tower, and the enemy were beaten off from the wall and turrets; nor was a fair opportunity of defending the walls given them. At length several stones being picked away from the foundation of that turret next the musculus, part of it fell down suddenly, and the rest, as if following it, leaned forward. XII.--Hereupon, the enemy, distressed at the sudden fall of the turret, surprised at the unforeseen calamity, awed by the wrath of the gods, and dreading the pillage of their city, rush all together out of the gate unarmed, with their temples bound with fillets, and suppliantly stretch out their hands to the officers and the army. At this uncommon occurrence, the whole progress of the war was stopped, and the soldiers, turning away from the battle, ran eagerly to hear and listen to them. When the enemy came up to the commanders and the army, they all fell down at their feet, and besought them "to wait till Caesar's arrival; they saw that their city was taken, our works completed, and their tower undermined, therefore they desisted from a defence; that no obstacle could arise, to prevent their being instantly plundered at a beck, as soon as he arrived, if they refused to submit to his orders." They inform them that, "if the turret had entirely fallen down, the soldiers could not be withheld from forcing into the town and sacking it, in hopes of getting spoil." These and several other arguments to the same effect were delivered, as they were a people of great learning, with great pathos and lamentations. XIII.--The lieutenants, moved with compassion, draw off the soldiers from the work, desist from the assault, and leave sentinels on the works. A sort of a truce having been made through compassion for the besieged, the arrival of Caesar is anxiously awaited; not a dart was thrown from the walls or by our men, but all remit their care and diligence, as if the business was at an end. For Caesar had given Trebonius strict charge not to suffer the town to be taken by storm, lest the soldiers, too much irritated both by abhorrence of their revolt, by the contempt shown to them, and by their long labour, should put to the sword all the grown-up inhabitants, as they threatened to do. And it was with difficulty that they were then restrained from breaking into the town, and they were much displeased, because they imagined that they were prevented by Trebonius from taking possession of it. XIV.--But the enemy, destitute of all honour, only waited a time and opportunity for fraud and treachery. And after an interval of some days, when our men were careless and negligent, on a sudden, at noon, when some were dispersed, and others indulging themselves in rest on the very works, after the fatigue of the day, and their arms were all laid by and covered up, they sallied out from the gates, and, the wind being high and favourable to them, they set fire to our works; and the wind spread it in such a manner that, in the same instant, the agger, plutei, testudo, tower, and engines all caught the flames and were consumed before we could conceive how it had occurred. Our men, alarmed at such an unexpected turn of fortune, lay hold on such arms as they could find. Some rush from the camp; an attack is made on the enemy: but they were prevented, by arrows and engines from the walls, from pursuing them when they fled. They retired to their walls, and there, without fear, set the musculus and brick tower on fire. Thus, by the perfidy of the enemy and the violence of the storm, the labour of many months was destroyed in a moment. The Massilians made the same attempt the next day, having got such another storm. They sallied out against the other tower and agger, and fought with more confidence. But as our men had on the former occasion given up all thoughts of a contest, so, warned by the event of the preceding day, they had made every preparation for a defence. Accordingly, they slew several, and forced the rest to retreat into the town without effecting their design. XV.--Trebonius began to provide and repair what had been destroyed, with much greater zeal on the part of the soldiers; for when they saw that their extraordinary pains and preparations had an unfortunate issue, they were fired with indignation that, in consequence of the impious violation of the truce, their valour should be held in derision. There was no place left them from which the materials for their mound could be fetched, in consequence of all the timber, far and wide, in the territories of the Massilians, having been cut down and carried away; they began therefore to make an agger of a new construction, never heard of before, of two walls of brick, each six feet thick, and to lay floors over them of almost the same breadth with the agger, made of timber. But wherever the space between the walls, or the weakness of the timber, seemed to require it, pillars were placed underneath and traversed beams laid on to strengthen the work, and the space which was floored was covered over with hurdles, and the hurdles plastered over with mortar. The soldiers, covered overhead by the floor, on the right and left by the wall, and in the front by the mantlets, carried whatever materials were necessary for the building without danger: the business was soon finished--the loss of their laborious work was soon repaired by the dexterity and fortitude of the soldiers. Gates for making sallies were left in the wall in such places as they thought proper. XVI.--But when the enemy perceived that those works, which they had hoped could not be replaced without a great length of time, were put into so thorough repair by a few days' labour and diligence, that there was no room for perfidy or sallies, and that no means were left them by which they could either hurt the men by resistance or the works by fire, and when they found by former examples that their town could be surrounded with a wall and turrets on every part by which it was accessible by land, in such a manner that they could not have room to stand on their own fortifications, because our works were built almost on the top of their walls by our army, and darts could be thrown from our hands, and when they perceived that all advantage arising from their engines, on which they had built great hopes, was totally lost, and that though they had an opportunity of fighting with us on equal terms from walls and turrets, they could perceive that they were not equal to our men in bravery, they had recourse to the same proposals of surrender as before. XVII.--In Further Spain, Marcus Varro, in the beginning of the disturbances, when he heard of the circumstances which took place in Italy, being diffident of Pompey's success, used to speak in a very friendly manner of Caesar. That though, being pre-engaged to Cneius Pompey in quality of lieutenant, he was bound in honour to him, that, nevertheless, there existed a very intimate tie between him and Caesar; that he was not ignorant of what was the duty of a lieutenant, who bore an office of trust; nor of his own strength, nor of the disposition of the whole province to Caesar. These sentiments he constantly expressed in his ordinary conversation, and did not attach himself to either party. But afterwards, when he found that Caesar was detained before Massilia, that the forces of Petreius had effected a junction with the army of Afranius, that considerable reinforcements had come to their assistance, that there were great hopes and expectations, and heard that the whole Hither province had entered into a confederacy, and of the difficulties to which Caesar was reduced afterwards at Ilerda for want of provisions, and Afranius wrote to him a fuller and more exaggerated account of these matters, he began to regulate his movements by those of fortune. XVIII.--He made levies throughout the province; and, having completed his two legions, he added to them about thirty auxiliary cohorts: he collected a large quantity of corn to send partly to the Massilians, partly to Afranius and Petreius. He commanded the inhabitants of Gades to build ten ships of war; besides, he took care that several others should be built in Spain. He removed all the money and ornaments from the temple of Hercules to the town of Gades, and sent six cohorts thither from the province to guard them, and gave the command of the town of Gades to Caius Gallonius, a Roman knight, and friend of Domitius, who had come thither sent by Domitius to recover an estate for him; and he deposited all the arms, both public and private, in Gallonius's house. He himself [Varro] made severe harangues against Caesar. He often pronounced from his tribunal that Caesar had fought several unsuccessful battles, and that a great number of his men had deserted to Afranius. That he had these accounts from undoubted messengers, and authority on which he could rely. By these means he terrified the Roman citizens of that province, and obliged them to promise him for the service of the state one hundred and ninety thousand sesterces, twenty thousand pounds weight of silver, and a hundred and twenty thousand bushels of wheat. He laid heavier burdens on those states which he thought were friendly disposed to Caesar, and billeted troops on them; he passed judgment against some private persons, and condemned to confiscation the properties of those who had spoken or made orations against the republic, and forced the whole province to take an oath of allegiance to him and Pompey. Being informed of all that happened in Hither Spain, he prepared for war. This was his plan of operations. He was to retire with his two legions to Gades, and to lay up all the shipping and provisions there. For he had been informed that the whole province was inclined to favour Caesar's party. He thought that the war might be easily protracted in an island, if he was provided with corn and shipping. Caesar, although called back to Italy by many and important matters, yet had determined to leave no dregs of war behind him in Spain, because he knew that Pompey had many dependants and clients in the Hither province. XIX.--Having therefore sent two legions into Further Spain under the command of Quintus Cassius, tribune of the people; he himself advances with six hundred horse by forced marches, and issues a proclamation, appointing a day on which the magistrates and nobility of all the states should attend him at Corduba. This proclamation being published through the whole province, there was not a state that did not send a part of their senate to Corduba, at the appointed time; and not a Roman citizen of any note but appeared that day. At the same time the senate at Corduba shut the gates of their own accord against Varro, and posted guards and sentinels on the wall and in the turrets, and detained two cohorts (called Colonicae, which had come there accidentally), for the defence of the town. About the same time the people of Carmona, which is by far the strongest state in the whole province, of themselves drove out of the town the cohorts, and shut the gates against them, although three cohorts had been detached by Varro to garrison the citadel. XX.--But Varro was in greater haste on this account to reach Gades with his legion as soon as possible, lest he should be stopped either on his march or on crossing over to the island. The affection of the province to Caesar proved so great and so favourable, that he received a letter from Gades, before he was far advanced on his march: that as soon as the nobility of Gades heard of Caesar's proclamation, they had combined with the tribune of the cohorts, which were in garrison there, to drive Gallonius out of the town, and to secure the city and island for Caesar. That having agreed on the design they had sent notice to Gallonius, to quit Gades of his own accord whilst he could do it with safety; if he did not, they would take measures for themselves; that for fear of this Gallonius had been induced to quit the town. When this was known, one of Varro's two legions, which was called Vernacula, carried off the colours from Varro's camp, he himself standing by and looking on, and retired to Hispalis, and took post in the market and public places without doing any injury, and the Roman citizens residing there approved so highly of this act, that every one most earnestly offered to entertain them in their houses. When Varro, terrified at these things, having altered his route, proposed going to Italica, he was informed by his friends that the gates were shut against him. Then indeed, when intercepted from every road, he sends word to Caesar that he was ready to deliver up the legion which he commanded. He sends to him Sextus Caesar, and orders him to deliver it up to him. Varro, having delivered up the legion, went to Caesar to Corduba, and having laid before him the public accounts, handed over to him most faithfully whatever money he had, and told him what quantity of corn and shipping he had, and where. XXI.--Caesar made a public oration at Corduba, in which he returned thanks to all severally: to the Roman citizens, because they had been zealous to keep the town in their own power; to the Spaniards, for having driven out the garrison; to the Gaditani, for having defeated the attempts of his enemies, and asserted their own liberty; to the Tribunes and Centurions who had gone there as a guard, for having by their valour confirmed them in their purpose. He remitted the tax which the Roman citizens had promised to Varro for the public use: he restored their goods to those who he was informed had incurred that penalty by speaking too freely, having given public and private rewards to some: he filled the rest with flattering hopes of his future intentions; and having stayed two days at Corduba, he set out for Gades: he ordered the money and ornaments which had been carried away from the temple of Hercules, and lodged in the houses of private persons, to be replaced in the temple. He made Quintus Cassius governor of the province, and assigned him four legions. He himself, with those ships which Marcus Varro had built, and others which the Gaditani had built by Varro's orders, arrived in a few days at Tarraco, where ambassadors from the greatest part of the nearer province waited his arrival. Having in the same manner conferred marks of honour both publicly and privately on some states, he left Tarraco, and went thence by land to Narbo, and thence to Massilia. There he was informed that a law was passed for creating a dictator, and that he had been nominated dictator by Marcus Lepidus the praetor. XXII.--The Massilians, wearied out by misfortunes of every sort, reduced to the lowest ebb for want of corn, conquered in two engagements at sea, defeated in their frequent sallies, and struggling moreover with a fatal pestilence, from their long confinement and change of victuals (for they all subsisted on old millet and damaged barley, which they had formerly provided and laid up in the public stores against an emergency of this kind), their turret being demolished, a great part of their wall having given way, and despairing of any aid, either from the provinces or their armies, for these they had heard had fallen into Caesar's power, resolved to surrender now without dissimulation. But a few days before, Lucius Domitius, having discovered the intention of the Massilians, and having procured three ships, two of which he gave up to his friends, went on board the third himself, having got a brisk wind, put out to sea. Some ships, which by Brutus's orders were constantly cruising near the port, having espied him, weighed anchor, and pursued him. But of these, the ship on board of which he was, persevered itself, and continuing its flight, and by the aid of the wind got out of sight: the other two, affrighted by the approach of our galleys, put back again into the harbour. The Massilians conveyed their arms and engines out of the town, as they were ordered: brought their ships out of the port and docks, and delivered up the money in their treasury. When these affairs were despatched, Caesar, sparing the town more out of regard to their renown and antiquity than to any claim they could lay to his favour, left two legions in garrison there, sent the rest to Italy, and set out himself for Rome. XXIII.--About the same time Caius Curio, having sailed from Sicily to Africa, and from the first despising the forces of Publius Attius Varus, transported only two of the four legions which he had received from Caesar, and five hundred horse, and having spent two days and three nights on the voyage, arrived at a place called Aquilaria, which is about twenty-two miles distant from Clupea, and in the summer season has a convenient harbour, and is enclosed by two projecting promontories. Lucius Caesar, the son, who was waiting his arrival near Clupea with ten ships which had been taken near Utica in a war with the pirates, and which Publius Attius had had repaired for this war, frightened at the number of our ships, fled the sea, and running his three-decked covered galley on the nearest shore, left her there and made his escape by land to Adrumetum. Caius Considius Longus, with a garrison of one legion, guarded this town. The rest of Caesar's fleet, after his flight, retired to Adrumetum. Marcus Rufus, the quaestor, pursued him with twelve ships, which Curio had brought from Sicily as convoy to the merchantmen, and seeing a ship left on the shore, he brought her off by a towing rope, and returned with his fleet to Curio. XXIV.--Curio detached Marcus before with the fleet to Utica, and marched thither with his army. Having advanced two days, he came to the river Bagrada, and there left Caius Caninius Rebilus, the lieutenant, with the legions; and went forward himself with the horse to view the Cornelian camp, because that was reckoned a very eligible position for encamping. It is a straight ridge, projecting into the sea, steep and rough on both sides, but the ascent is more gentle on that part which lies opposite Utica. It is not more than a mile distant from Utica in a direct line. But on this road there is a spring, to which the sea comes up, and overflows; an extensive morass is thereby formed; and if a person would avoid it, he must make a circuit of six miles to reach the town. XXV.--Having examined this place, Curio got a view of Varus's camp, joining the wall and town, at the gate called Bellica, well fortified by its natural situation, on one side by the town itself, on the other by a theatre which is before the town, the approaches to the town being rendered difficult and narrow by the very extensive out-buildings of that structure. At the same time he observed the roads very full of carriages and cattle which they were conveying from the country into the town on the sudden alarm. He sent his cavalry after them to plunder them and get the spoil. And at the same time Varus had detached as a guard for them six hundred Numidian horse, and four hundred foot, which king Juba had sent to Utica as auxiliaries a few days before. There was a friendship subsisting between his [Juba's] father and Pompey, and a feud between him and Curio, because he, when a tribune of the people, had proposed a law, in which he endeavoured to make public property of the kingdom of Juba. The horse engaged; but the Numidians were not able to stand our first charge; but a hundred and twenty being killed, the rest retreated into their camp near the town. In the meantime, on the arrival of his men-of-war, Curio ordered proclamation to be made to the merchant ships, which lay at anchor before Utica, in number about two hundred, that he would treat as enemies all that did not set sail immediately for the Cornelian camp. As soon as the proclamation was made, in an instant they all weighed anchor and left Utica, and repaired to the place commanded them. This circumstance furnished the army with plenty of everything. XXVI.--After these transactions, Curio returned to his camp at Bagrada; and by a general shout of the whole army was saluted imperator. The next day he led his army to Utica, and encamped near the town. Before the works of the camp were finished, the horse upon guard brought him word that a large supply of horse and foot sent by king Juba were on their march to Utica, and at the same time a cloud of dust was observed, and in a moment the front of the line was in sight. Curio, surprised at the suddenness of the affair, sent on the horse to receive their first charge, and detain them. He immediately called off his legions from the work, and put them in battle array. The horse began the battle: and before the legions could be completely marshalled and take their ground, the king's entire forces being thrown into disorder and confusion, because they had marched without any order, and were under no apprehensions, betake themselves to flight: almost all the enemy's horse being safe, because they made a speedy retreat into the town along the shore, Caesar's soldiers slay a great number of their infantry. XXVII.--The next night two Marsian centurions, with twenty-two men belonging to the companies, deserted from Curio's camp to Attius Varus. They, whether they uttered the sentiments which they really entertained, or wished to gratify Varus (for what we wish we readily give credit to, and what we think ourselves, we hope is the opinion of other men), assured him, that the minds of the whole army were disaffected to Curio, that it was very expedient that the armies should be brought in view of each other, and an opportunity of a conference be given. Induced by their opinion, Varus the next day led his troops out of the camp: Curio did so in like manner, and with only one small valley between them, each drew up his forces. XXVIII.--In Varus's army there was one Sextus Quintilius Varus who, as we have mentioned before, was at Corfinium. When Caesar gave him his liberty, he went over to Africa; now, Curio had transported to Africa those legions which Caesar had received under his command a short time before at Corfinium: so that the officers and companies were still the same, excepting the change of a few centurions. Quintilius, making this a pretext for addressing them, began to go round Curio's lines, and to entreat the soldiers "not to lose all recollection of the oath which they took first to Domitius and to him their quaestor, nor bear arms against those who had shared the same fortune, and endured the same hardships in a siege, nor fight for those by whom they had been opprobriously called deserters." To this he added a few words by way of encouragement, what they might expect from his own liberality, if they should follow him and Attius. On the delivery of this speech, no intimation of their future conduct is given by Curio's army, and thus both generals led back their troops to their camp. XXIX.--However, a great and general fear spread through Curio's camp, for it is soon increased by the various discourses of men. For every one formed an opinion of his own; and to what he had heard from others, added his own apprehensions. When this had spread from a single author to several persons, and was handed from one another, there appeared to be many authors for such sentiments as these: ["That it was a civil war; that they were men; and therefore that it was lawful for them to act freely, and follow which party they pleased." These were the legions which a short time before had belonged to the enemy; for the custom of offering free towns to those who joined the opposite party had changed Caesar's kindness. For the harshest expressions of the soldiers in general did not proceed from the Marsi and Peligni, as those which passed in the tents the night before; and some of their fellow soldiers heard them with displeasure. Some additions were also made to them by those who wished to be thought more zealous in their duty.] XXX.--For these reasons, having called a council, Curio began to deliberate on the general welfare. There were some opinions, which advised by all means an attempt to be made, and an attack on Varus's camp; for when such sentiments prevailed among the soldiers, they thought idleness was improper. In short, they said, "that it was better bravely to try the hazard of war in a battle, than to be deserted and surrounded by their own troops, and forced to submit to the greatest cruelties." There were some who gave their opinion, that they ought to withdraw at the third watch to the Cornelian camp; that by a longer interval of time the soldiers might be brought to a proper way of thinking; and also, that if any misfortune should befall them, they might have a safer and readier retreat to Sicily, from the great number of their ships. XXXI.--Curio, censuring both measures, said, "that the one was as deficient in spirit, as the other exceeded in it: that the latter advised a shameful flight, and the former recommended us to engage at a great disadvantage. For on what, says he, can we rely that we can storm a camp, fortified both by nature and art? Or, indeed, what advantage do we gain if we give over the assault, after having suffered considerable loss; as if success did not acquire for a general the affection of his army, and misfortune their hatred? But what does a change of camp imply but a shameful flight, and universal despair, and the alienation of the army? For neither ought the obedient to suspect that they are distrusted, nor the insolent to know that we fear them; because our fears augment the licentiousness of the latter, and diminish the zeal of the former. But if, says he, we were convinced of the truth of the reports of the disaffection of the army (which I indeed am confident are either altogether groundless, or at least less than they are supposed to be), how much better to conceal and hide our suspicions of it, than by our conduct confirm it? Ought not the defects of an army to be as carefully concealed as the wounds in our bodies, lest we should increase the enemy's hopes? but they moreover advise us to set out at midnight, in order, I suppose, that those who attempt to do wrong may have a fairer opportunity; for conduct of this kind is restrained either by shame or fear, to the display of which the night is most adverse. Wherefore, I am neither so rash as to give my opinion that we ought to attack their camp without hopes of succeeding; nor so influenced by fear as to despond: and I imagine that every expedient ought first to be tried; and I am in a great degree confident that I shall form the same opinion as yourselves on this matter." XXXII.--Having broken up the council he called the soldiers together, and reminded them "what advantage Caesar had derived from their zeal at Corfinium; how by their good offices and influence he had brought over a great part of Italy to his interest. For, says he, all the municipal towns afterwards imitated you and your conduct; nor was it without reason that Caesar judged so favourably, and the enemy so harshly of you. For Pompey, though beaten in no engagement, yet was obliged to shift his ground, and leave Italy, from the precedent established by your conduct. Caesar committed me, whom he considered his dearest friend, and the provinces of Sicily and Africa, without which he was not able to protect Rome or Italy, to your protection. There are some here present who encourage you to revolt from us; for what can they wish for more, than at once to ruin us, and to involve you in a heinous crime? or what baser opinions could they in their resentment entertain of you, than that you would betray those who acknowledged themselves indebted to you for everything, and put yourselves in the power of those who think they have been ruined by you? Have you not heard of Caesar's exploits in Spain? that he routed two armies, conquered two generals, recovered two provinces, and effected all this within forty days after he came in sight of the enemy? Can those who were not able to stand against him whilst they were uninjured resist him when they are ruined? Will you, who took part with Caesar whilst victory was uncertain, take part with the conquered enemy when the fortune of the war is decided, and when you ought to reap the reward of your services? For they say that they have been deserted and betrayed by you, and remind you of a former oath. But did you desert Lucius Domitius, or did Lucius Domitius desert you? Did he not, when you were ready to submit to the greatest difficulties, cast you off? Did he not, without your privacy, endeavour to effect his own escape? When you were betrayed by him, were you not preserved by Caesar's generosity? And how could he think you bound by your oath to him, when, after having thrown up the ensigns of power, and abdicated his government, he became a private person, and a captive in another's power? A new obligation is left upon you, that you should disregard the oath, by which you are at present bound; and have respect only to that which was invalidated by the surrender of your general, and his diminution of rank. But I suppose, although you are pleased with Caesar, you are offended with me; however I shall not boast of my services to you, which still are inferior to my own wishes or your expectations. But, however, soldiers have ever looked for the rewards of labour at the conclusion of a war; and what the issue of it is likely to be, not even you can doubt. But why should I omit to mention my own diligence and good fortune, and to what a happy crisis affairs are now arrived? Are you sorry that I transported the army safe and entire, without the loss of a single ship? That on my arrival, in the very first attack, I routed the enemy's fleet? That twice in two days I defeated the enemy's horse? That I carried out of the very harbour and bay, two hundred of the enemy's victuallers, and reduced them to that situation that they can receive no supplies either by land or sea? Will you divorce yourselves from this fortune and these generals; and prefer the disgrace of Corfinium, the defeat of Italy, the surrender of both Spains, and the prestige of the African war? I, for my part, wished to be called a soldier of Caesar's; you honoured me with the title of Imperator. If you repent your bounty, I give it back to you; restore to me my former name that you may not appear to have conferred the honour on me as a reproach." XXXIII.--The soldiers, being affected by this oration, frequently attempted to interrupt him whilst he was speaking, so that they appeared to bear with excessive anguish the suspicion of treachery, and when he was leaving the assembly they unanimously besought him to be of good spirits, and not hesitate to engage the enemy and put their fidelity and courage to a trial. As the wishes and opinions of all were changed by this act, Curio, with the general consent, determined, whenever opportunity offered, to hazard a battle. The next day he led out his forces and ranged them in order of battle on the same ground where they had been posted the preceding day; nor did Attius Varus hesitate to draw out his men, that, if any occasion should offer, either to tamper with our men or to engage on equal terms, he might not miss the opportunity. XXXIV.-There lay between the two armies a valley, as already mentioned, not very deep, but of a difficult and steep ascent. Each was waiting till the enemy's forces should attempt to pass it, that they might engage with the advantage of the ground. At the same time, on the left wing, the entire cavalry of Publius Attius, and several light-armed infantry intermixed with them, were perceived descending into the valley. Against them Curio detached his cavalry and two cohorts of the Marrucini, whose first charge the enemy's horse were unable to stand, but, setting spurs to their horses, fled back to their friends: the light-infantry being deserted by those who had come out along with them, were surrounded and cut to pieces by our men. Varus's whole army, facing that way, saw their men flee and cut down. Upon which Rebilus, one of Caesar's lieutenants, whom Curio had brought with him from Sicily knowing that he had great experience in military matters, cried out, "You see the enemy are daunted, Curio! why do you hesitate to take advantage of the opportunity?" Curio, having merely "expressed this, that the soldiers should keep in mind the professions which they had made to him the day before," then ordered them to follow him, and ran far before them all. The valley was so difficult of ascent that the foremost men could not struggle up it unless assisted by those behind. But the minds of Attius's soldiers being prepossessed with fear and the flight and slaughter of their men, never thought of opposing us; and they all imagined that they were already surrounded by our horse, and, therefore, before a dart could be thrown or our men come near them, Varus's whole army turned their backs and retreated to their camp. XXXV.-In this flight one Fabius, a Pelignian and common soldier in Curio's army, pursuing the enemy's rear, with a loud voice shouted to Varus by his name, and often called him, so that he seemed to be one of his soldiers, who wished to speak to him and give him advice. When Varus, after being repeatedly called, stopped and looked at him, and inquired who he was and what he wanted, he made a blow with his sword at his naked shoulder and was very near killing Varus, but he escaped the danger by raising his shield to ward off the blow. Fabius was surrounded by the soldiers near him and cut to pieces; and by the multitude and crowds of those that fled, the gates of the camps were thronged and the passage stopped, and a greater number perished in that place without a stroke than in the battle and flight. Nor were we far from driving them from this camp; and some of them ran straightway to the town without halting. But both the nature of the ground and the strength of the fortifications prevented our access to the camp; for Curio's soldiers, marching out to battle, were without those things which were requisite for storming a camp. Curio, therefore, led his army back to the camp, with all his troops safe except Fabius. Of the enemy about six hundred were killed and a thousand wounded, all of whom, after Curio's return, and several more under pretext of their wounds, but in fact through fear, withdrew from the camp into the town, which Varus perceiving and knowing the terror of his army, leaving a trumpeter in his camp and a few tents for show, at the third watch led back his army quietly into the town. XXXVI.--The next day Curio resolved to besiege Utica, and to draw lines about it. In the town there was a multitude of people, ignorant of war, owing to the length of the peace; some of them Uticans, very well inclined to Caesar, for his favours to them; the Roman population was composed of persons differing widely in their sentiments. The terror occasioned by former battles was very great; and therefore they openly talked of surrendering, and argued with Attius that he should not suffer the fortune of them all to be ruined by his obstinacy. Whilst these things were in agitation, couriers, who had been sent forward, arrived from king Juba, with the intelligence that he was on his march, with considerable forces, and encouraged them to protect and defend their city, a circumstance which greatly comforted their desponding hearts. XXXVII.--The same intelligence was brought to Curio; but for some time he could not give credit to it, because he had so great confidence in his own good fortune. And at this time Caesar's success in Spain was announced in Africa by messages and letters. Being elated by all these things, he imagined that the king would not dare to attempt anything against him. But when he found out, from undoubted authority, that his forces were less than twenty miles distant from Utica, abandoning his works, he retired to the Cornelian camp. Here he began to lay in corn and wood, and to fortify his camp, and immediately despatched orders to Sicily, that his two legions and the remainder of his cavalry should be sent to him. His camp was well adapted for protracting a war, from the nature and strength of the situation, from its proximity to the sea, and the abundance of water and salt, of which a great quantity had been stored up from the neighbouring salt-pits. Timber could not fail him from the number of trees, nor corn, with which the lands abounded. Wherefore, with the general consent, Curio determined to wait for the rest of his forces, and protract the war. XXXVIII.--This plan being settled, and his conduct approved of, he is informed by some deserters from the town that Juba had stayed behind in his own kingdom, being called home by a neighbouring war, and a dispute with the people of Leptis; and that Sabura, his commander-in-chief, who had been sent with a small force, was drawing near to Utica. Curio rashly believing this information, altered his design, and resolved to hazard a battle. His youth, his spirits, his former good fortune and confidence of success, contributed much to confirm this resolution. Induced by these motives, early in the night he sent all his cavalry to the enemy's camp near the river Bagrada, of which Sabura, of whom we have already spoken, was the commander. But the king was coming after them with all his forces, and was posted at a distance of six miles behind Sabura. The horse that were sent perform their march that night, and attack the enemy unawares and unexpectedly; for the Numidians, after the usual barbarous custom, encamped here and there without any regularity. The cavalry having attacked them, when sunk in sleep and dispersed, killed a great number of them; many were frightened and ran away. After which the horse returned to Curio, and brought some prisoners with them. XXXIX.--Curio had set out at the fourth watch with all his forces, except five cohorts which he left to guard the camp. Having advanced six miles, he met the horse, heard what had happened, and inquired from the captives who commanded the camp at Bagrada. They replied Sabura. Through eagerness to perform his journey, he neglected to make further inquiries, but looking back to the company next him, "Don't you see, soldiers," says he, "that the answer of the prisoners corresponds with the account of the deserters, that the king is not with him, and that he sent only a small force which was not able to withstand a few horse? Hasten then to spoil, to glory; that we may now begin to think of rewarding you, and returning you thanks." The achievements of the horse were great in themselves, especially if their small number be compared with the vast host of Numidians. However, the account was enlarged by themselves, as men are naturally inclined to boast of their own merit. Besides, many spoils were produced; the men and horses that were taken were brought into their sight, that they might imagine that every moment of time which intervened was a delay to their conquest. By this means the hopes of Curio were seconded by the ardour of the soldiers. He ordered the horse to follow him, and hastened his march, that he might attack them as soon as possible, while in consternation after their flight. But the horse, fatigued by the expedition of the preceding night, were not able to keep up with him, but fell behind in different places. Even this did not abate Curio's hopes. XL.--Juba, being informed by Sabura of the battle in the night, sent to his relief two thousand Spanish and Gallic horse, which he was accustomed to keep near him to guard his person, and that part of his infantry on which he had the greatest dependence, and he himself followed slowly after with the rest of his forces and forty elephants, suspecting that as Curio had sent his horse before, he himself would follow them. Sabura drew up his army, both horse and foot, and commanded them to give way gradually and retreat through the pretence of fear; that when it was necessary he would give them the signal for battle, and such orders as he found circumstances required. Curio, as his idea of their present behaviour was calculated to confirm his former hopes, imagined that the enemy were running away, and led his army from the rising grounds down to the plain. XLI.--And when he had advanced from this place about sixteen miles, his army being exhausted with the fatigue, he halted. Sabura gave his men the signal, marshalled his army, and began to go around his ranks and encourage them. But he made use of the foot only for show; and sent the horse to the charge: Curio was not deficient in skill, and encouraged his men to rest all their hopes in their valour. Neither were the soldiers, though wearied, nor the horse, though few and exhausted with fatigue, deficient in ardour to engage, and courage: but the latter were in number but two hundred: the rest had dropped behind on the march. Wherever they charged they forced the enemy to give ground, but they were not able to pursue them far when they fled, or to press their horses too severely. Besides, the enemy's cavalry began to surround us on both wings and to trample down our rear. When any cohorts ran forward out of the line, the Numidians, being fresh, by their speed avoided our charge, and surrounded ours when they attempted to return to their post, and cut them off from the main body. So that it did not appear safe either to keep their ground and maintain their ranks, or to issue from the line, and run the risk. The enemy's troops were frequently reinforced by assistance sent from Juba; strength began to fail our men through fatigue; and those who had been wounded could neither quit the field nor retire to a place of safety, because the whole field was surrounded by the enemy's cavalry. Therefore, despairing of their own safety, as men usually do in the last moment of their lives, they either lamented their unhappy deaths, or recommended their parents to the survivors, if fortune should save any from the impending danger. All were full of fear and grief. XLII.--When Curio perceived that in the general consternation neither his exhortations nor entreaties were attended to, imagining that the only hope of escaping in their deplorable situation was to gain the nearest hills, he ordered the colours to be borne that way. But a party of horse, that had been sent by Sabura, had already got possession of them. Now indeed our men were reduced to extreme despair: and some of them were killed by the cavalry in attempting to escape: some fell to the ground unhurt. Cneius Domitius, commander of the cavalry, standing round Curio with a small party of horse, urged Curio to endeavour to escape by flight, and to hasten to his camp; and assured him that he would not forsake him. But Curio declared that he would never more appear in Caesar's sight, after losing the army which had been committed by Caesar to his charge, and accordingly fought till he was killed. Very few of the horse escaped from that battle, but those who had stayed behind to refresh their horses having perceived at a distance the defeat of the whole army, retired in safety to their camp. XLIII.--The soldiers were all killed to a man. Marcus Rufus, the quaestor, who was left behind in the camp by Curio, having got intelligence of these things, encouraged his men not to be disheartened. They beg and entreat to be transported to Sicily. He consented, and ordered the masters of the ships to have all the boats brought close to the shore early in the evening. But so great was the terror in general that some said that Juba's forces were marching up, others that Varus was hastening with his legions, and that they already saw the dust raised by their coming; of which not one circumstance had happened: others suspected that the enemy's fleet would immediately be upon them. Therefore, in the general consternation, every man consulted his own safety. Those who were on board of the fleet, were in a hurry to set sail, and their flight hastened the masters of the ships of burden. A few small fishing boats attended their duty and his orders. But as the shores were crowded, so great was the struggle to determine who of such a vast number should first get on board, that some of the vessels sank with the weight of the multitude, and the fears of the rest delayed them from coming to the shore. XLIV.--From which circumstances it happened that a few foot and aged men, that could prevail either through interest or pity, or who were able to swim to the ships, were taken on board, and landed safe in Sicily. The rest of the troops sent their centurions as deputies to Varus at night, and surrendered themselves to him. But Juba, the next day having spied their cohorts before the town, claimed them as his booty, and ordered a great part of them to be put to the sword; a few he selected and sent home to his own realm. Although Varus complained that his honour was insulted by Juba, yet he dare not oppose him: Juba rode on horseback into the town, attended by several senators, amongst whom were Servius Sulpicius and Licinius Damasippus, and in a few days arranged and ordered what he would have done in Utica, and in a few days more returned to his own kingdom, with all his forces. BOOK III I.--Julius Caesar, holding the election as dictator, was himself appointed consul with Publius Servilius; for this was the year in which it was permitted by the laws that he should be chosen consul. This business being ended, as credit was beginning to fail in Italy, and the debts could not be paid, he determined that arbitrators should be appointed: and that they should make an estimate of the possessions and properties [of the debtors], how much they were worth before the war, and that they should be handed over in payment to the creditors. This he thought the most likely method to remove and abate the apprehension of an abolition of debt, the usual consequence of civil wars and dissensions, and to support the credit of the debtors. He likewise restored to their former condition (the praetors and tribunes first submitting the question to the people) some persons condemned for bribery at the elections, by virtue of Pompey's law, at the time when Pompey kept his legions quartered in the city (these trials were finished in a single day, one judge hearing the merits, and another pronouncing the sentences), because they had offered their service to him in the beginning of the civil war, if he chose to accept them; setting the same value on them as if he had accepted them, because they had put themselves in his power. For he had determined that they ought to be restored, rather by the judgment of the people, than appear admitted to it by his bounty: that he might neither appear ungrateful in repaying an obligation, nor arrogant in depriving the people of their prerogative of exercising this bounty. II.--In accomplishing these things, and celebrating the Latin festival, and holding all the elections, he spent eleven days; and having resigned the dictatorship, set out from the city, and went to Brundisium, where he had ordered twelve legions and all his cavalry to meet him. But he scarcely found as many ships as would be sufficient to transport fifteen thousand legionary soldiers and five hundred horse. This [the scarcity of shipping] was the only thing that prevented Caesar from putting a speedy conclusion to the war. And even these troops embarked very short of their number, because several had fallen in so many wars in Gaul, and the long march from Spain had lessened their number very much, and a severe autumn in Apulia and the district about Brundisium, after the very wholesome countries of Spain and Gaul, had impaired the health of the whole army. III.--Pompey having got a year's respite to provide forces, during which he was not engaged in war, nor employed by an enemy, had collected a numerous fleet from Asia, and the Cyclades, from Corcyra, Athens, Pontus, Bithynia, Syria, Cilicia, Phoenicia, and Egypt, and had given directions that a great number should be built in every other place. He had exacted a large sum of money from Asia, Syria, and all the kings, dynasts, tetrarchs, and free states of Achaia; and had obliged the corporations of those provinces, of which he himself had the government, to count down to him a large sum. IV.--He had made up nine legions of Roman citizens; five from Italy, which he had brought with him; one veteran legion from Sicily, which being composed of two, he called the Gemella; one from Crete and Macedonia, of veterans who had been discharged by their former generals, and had settled in those provinces; two from Asia, which had been levied by the activity of Lentulus. Besides he had distributed among his legions a considerable number, by way of recruits, from Thessaly, Boeotia, Achaia, and Epirus: with his legions he also intermixed the soldiers taken from Caius Antonius. Besides these, he expected two legions from Syria, with Scipio; from Crete, Lacedaemon, Pontus, Syria, and other states, he got about three thousand archers, six cohorts of slingers, two thousand mercenary soldiers, and seven thousand horse; six hundred of which, Deiotarus had brought from Gaul; Ariobarzanes, five hundred from Cappadocia. Cotus had given him about the same number from Thrace, and had sent his son Sadalis with them. From Macedonia there were two hundred, of extraordinary valour, commanded by Rascipolis; five hundred Gauls and Germans; Gabinius's troops from Alexandria, whom Aulus Gabinius had left with king Ptolemy, to guard his person. Pompey, the son, had brought in his fleet eight hundred, whom he had raised among his own and his shepherds' slaves. Tarcundarius, Castor and Donilaus had given three hundred from Gallograecia: one of these came himself, the other sent his son. Two hundred were sent from Syria by Comagenus Antiochus, whom Pompey rewarded amply. The most of them were archers. To these were added Dardanians, and Bessians, some of them mercenaries; others procured by power and influence: also, Macedonians, Thessalians, and troops from other nations and states, which completed the number which we mentioned before. V.--He had laid in vast quantities of corn from Thessaly, Asia, Egypt, Crete, Cyrene, and other countries. He had resolved to fix his winter quarters at Dyrrachium, Apollonia, and the other sea-ports, to hinder Caesar from passing the sea: and for this purpose had stationed his fleet along the sea-coast. The Egyptian fleet was commanded by Pompey, the son: the Asiatic, by Decimus Laelius, and Caius Triarius: the Syrian, by Caius Cassius: the Rhodian, by Caius Marcellus, in conjunction with Caius Coponius; and the Liburnian, and Achaian, by Scribonius Libo, and Marcus Octavius. But Marcus Bibulus was appointed commander-in-chief of the whole maritime department, and regulated every matter. The chief direction rested upon him. VI.--When Caesar came to Brundisium, he made a speech to the soldiers: "That since they were now almost arrived at the termination of their toils and dangers, they should patiently submit to leave their slaves and baggage in Italy, and to embark without luggage, that a greater number of men might be put on board: that they might expect everything from victory and his liberality." They cried out with one voice, "he might give what orders he pleased, that they would cheerfully fulfil them." He accordingly set sail the fourth day of January, with seven legions on board, as already remarked. The next day he reached land, between the Ceraunian rocks and other dangerous places; meeting with a safe road for his shipping to ride in, and dreading all other ports which he imagined were in possession of the enemy, he landed his men at a place called Pharsalus, without the loss of a single vessel. VII.--Lucretius Vespillo and Minutius Rufus were at Oricum, with eighteen Asiatic ships, which were given into their charge by the orders of Decimus Laelius: Marcus Bibulus at Corcyra, with a hundred and ten ships. But they had not the confidence to dare to move out of the harbour; though Caesar had brought only twelve ships as a convoy, only four of which had decks; nor did Bibulus, his fleet being disordered and his seamen dispersed, come up in time: for Caesar was seen at the continent before any account whatsoever of his approach had reached those regions. VIII.--Caesar, having landed his soldiers, sent back his ships the same night to Brundisium, to transport the rest of his legions and cavalry. The charge of this business was committed to lieutenant Fufius Kalenus, with orders to be expeditious in transporting the legions. But the ships having put to sea too late, and not having taken advantage of the night breeze, fell a sacrifice on their return. For Bibulus, at Corcyra, being informed of Caesar's approach, hoped to fall in with some part of our ships, with their cargoes, but found them empty; and having taken about thirty, vented on them his rage at his own remissness, and set them all on fire: and, with the same flames, he destroyed the mariners and masters of the vessels, hoping by the severity of the punishment to deter the rest. Having accomplished this affair, he filled all the harbours and shores from Salona to Oricum with his fleets. Having disposed his guard with great care, he lay on board himself in the depth of winter, declining no fatigue or duty, and not waiting for reinforcements, in hopes that he might come within Caesar's reach. IX.--But after the departure of the Liburnian fleet, Marcus Octavius sailed from Illyricum with what ships he had to Salona; and having spirited up the Dalmatians, and other barbarous nations, he drew Issa off from its connection with Caesar; but not being able to prevail with the council of Salona, either by promises or menaces, he resolved to storm the town. But it was well fortified by its natural situation, and a hill. The Roman citizens built wooden towers, the better to secure it; but when they were unable to resist, on account of the smallness of their numbers, being weakened by several wounds, they stooped to the last resource, and set at liberty all the slaves old enough to bear arms; and cutting the hair off the women's heads, made ropes for their engines. Octavius, being informed of their determination, surrounded the town with five encampments, and began to press them at once with a siege and storm. They were determined to endure every hardship, and their greatest distress was the want of corn. They, therefore, sent deputies to Caesar, and begged a supply from him; all other inconveniences they bore by their own resources, as well as they could: and after a long interval, when the length of the siege had made Octavius's troops more remiss than usual, having got an opportunity at noon, when the enemy were dispersed, they disposed their wives and children on the walls, to keep up the appearance of their usual attention; and forming themselves into one body, with the slaves whom they had lately enfranchised, they made an attack on Octavius's nearest camp, and having forced that, attacked the second with the same fury; and then the third and the fourth, and then the other, and beat them from them all: and having killed a great number, obliged the rest and Octavius himself to fly for refuge to their ships. This put an end to the blockade. Winter was now approaching, and Octavius, despairing of capturing the town, after sustaining such considerable losses, withdrew to Pompey, to Dyrrachium. X.--We have mentioned that Vibullius Rufus, an officer of Pompey's, had fallen twice into Caesar's power; first at Corfinium, and afterwards in Spain. Caesar thought him a proper person, on account of his favours conferred on him, to send with proposals to Pompey: and he knew that he had an influence over Pompey. This was the substance of his proposals: "That it was the duty of both, to put an end to their obstinacy, and forbear hostilities, and not tempt fortune any further; that sufficient loss had been suffered on both sides, to serve as a lesson and instruction to them, to render them apprehensive of future calamities, by Pompey, in having been driven out of Italy, and having lost Sicily, Sardinia, and the two Spains, and one hundred and thirty cohorts of Roman citizens, in Italy and Spain: by himself, in the death of Curio, and the loss of so great an army in Africa, and the surrender of his soldiers in Corcyra. Wherefore, they should have pity on themselves, and the republic: for, from their own misfortunes, they had sufficient experience of what fortune can effect in war. That this was the only time to treat of peace; when each had confidence in his own strength, and both seemed on an equal footing. Since, if fortune showed ever so little favour to either, he who thought himself superior, would not submit to terms of accommodation; nor would he be content with an equal division, when he might expect to obtain the whole. That, as they could not agree before, the terms of peace ought to be submitted to the senate and people in Rome. That in the meantime, it ought to content the republic and themselves, if they both immediately took oath in a public assembly, that they would disband their forces within the three following days. That having divested themselves of the arms and auxiliaries, on which they placed their present confidence, they must both of necessity acquiesce in the decision of the people and senate. To give Pompey the fuller assurance of his intentions, he would dismiss all his forces on land, even his garrisons. XI.--Vibullius, having received this commission from Caesar, thought it no less necessary to give Pompey notice of Caesar's sudden approach, that he might adopt such plans as the circumstance required, than to inform him of Caesar's message; and therefore continuing his journey by night as well as by day, and taking fresh horses for despatch, he posted away to Pompey, to inform him that Caesar was marching towards him with all his forces. Pompey was at this time in Candavia, and was on his march from Macedonia to his winter quarters in Apollonia and Dyrrachium; but surprised at the unexpected news, he determined to go to Apollonia by speedy marches, to prevent Caesar from becoming master of all the maritime states. But as soon as Caesar had landed his troops, he set off the same day for Oricum: when he arrived there, Lucius Torquatus, who was governor of the town by Pompey's appointment, and had a garrison of Parthinians in it, endeavoured to shut the gates and defend the town, and ordered the Greeks to man the walls, and to take arms. But as they refused to fight against the power of the Roman people, and as the citizens made a spontaneous attempt to admit Caesar, despairing of any assistance, he threw open the gates, and surrendered himself and the town to Caesar, and was preserved safe from injury by him. XII.--Having taken Oricum, Caesar marched without making any delay to Apollonia. Staberius the governor, hearing of his approach, began to bring water into the citadel, and to fortify it, and to demand hostages of the town's people. But they refuse to give any, or to shut their gates against the consul, or to take upon them to judge contrary to what all Italy and the Roman people had judged. As soon as he knew their inclinations, he made his escape privately. The inhabitants of Apollonia sent ambassadors to Caesar, and gave him admission into their town. Their example was followed by the inhabitants of Bullis, Amantia, and the other neighbouring states, and all Epirus: and they sent ambassadors to Caesar, and promised to obey his commands. XIII.--But Pompey having received information of the transactions at Oricum and Apollonia, began to be alarmed for Dyrrachium, and endeavoured to reach it, marching day and night. As soon as it was said that Caesar was approaching, such a panic fell upon Pompey's army, because in his haste he had made no distinction between night and day, and had marched without intermission, that they almost every man deserted their colours in Epirus and the neighbouring countries; several threw down their arms, and their march had the appearance of a flight. But when Pompey had halted near Dyrrachium, and had given orders for measuring out the ground for his camp, his army even yet continuing in their fright, Labienus first stepped forward and swore that he would never desert him, and would share whatever fate fortune should assign to him. The other lieutenants took the same oath, and the tribunes and centurions followed their example: and the whole army swore in like manner. Caesar, finding the road to Dyrrachium already in the possession of Pompey, was in no great haste, but encamped by the river Apsus, in the territory of Apollonia, that the states which had deserved his support might be certain of protection from his out-guards and forts; and there he resolved to wait the arrival of his other legions from Italy, and to winter in tents. Pompey did the same; and pitching his camp on the other side of the river Apsus, collected there all his troops and auxiliaries. XIV.--Kalenus, having put the legions and cavalry on board at Brundisium, as Caesar had directed him, as far as the number of his ships allowed, weighed anchor: and having sailed a little distance from port, received a letter from Caesar, in which he was informed, that all the ports and the whole shore was occupied by the enemy's fleet: on receiving this information he returned into the harbour, and recalled all the vessels. One of them, which continued the voyage and did not obey Kalenus's command, because it carried no troops, but was private property, bore away for Oricum, and was taken by Bibulus, who spared neither slaves nor free men, nor even children; but put all to the sword. Thus the safety of the whole army depended on a very short space of time and a great casualty. XV.--Bibulus, as has been observed before, lay with his fleet near Oricum, and as he debarred Caesar of the liberty of the sea and harbours, so he was deprived of all intercourse with the country by land; for the whole shore was occupied by parties disposed in different places by Caesar. And he was not allowed to get either wood or water, or even anchor near the land. He was reduced to great difficulties, and distressed with extreme scarcity of every necessary; insomuch that he was obliged to bring, in transports from Corcyra, not only provisions, but even wood and water; and it once happened that, meeting with violent storms, they were forced to catch the dew by night which fell on the hides that covered their decks; yet all these difficulties they bore patiently and without repining, and thought they ought not to leave the shores and harbours free from blockade. But when they were suffering under the distress which I have mentioned, and Libo had joined Bibulus, they both called from on ship-board to Marcus Acilius and Statius Marcus, the lieutenants, one of whom commanded the town, the other the guards on the coast, that they wished to speak to Caesar on affairs of importance, if permission should be granted them. They add something further to strengthen the impression that they intended to treat about an accommodation. In the meantime they requested a truce, and obtained it from them; for what they proposed seemed to be of importance, and it was well known that Caesar desired it above all things, and it was imagined that some advantage would be derived from Bibulus's proposals. XVI.--Caesar having set out with one legion to gain possession of the more remote states, and to provide corn, of which he had but a small quantity, was at this time at Buthrotum, opposite to Corcyra. There receiving Acilius and Marcus's letters, informing him of Libo's and Bibulus's demands, he left his legion behind him, and returned himself to Oricum. When he arrived, they were invited to a conference. Libo came and made an apology for Bibulus, "that he was a man of strong passion, and had a private quarrel against Caesar, contracted when he was aedile and praetor; that for this reason he had avoided the conference, lest affairs of the utmost importance and advantage might be impeded by the warmth of his temper. That it now was and ever had been Pompey's most earnest wish, that they should be reconciled, and lay down their arms; but they were not authorized to treat on that subject, because they resigned the whole management of the war, and all other matters, to Pompey, by order of the council. But when they were acquainted with Caesar's demands, they would transmit them to Pompey, who would conclude all of himself by their persuasions. In the meantime, let the truce be continued till the messengers could return from him; and let no injury be done on either side." To this he added a few words of the cause for which they fought, and of his own forces and resources. XVII.--To this, Caesar did not then think proper to make any reply, nor do we now think it worth recording. But Caesar required "that he should be allowed to send commissioners to Pompey, who should suffer no personal injury; and that either they should grant it, or should take his commissioners in charge, and convey them to Pompey. That as to the truce, the war in its present state was so divided, that they by their fleet deprived him of his shipping and auxiliaries; while he prevented them from the use of the land and fresh water; and if they wished that this restraint should be removed from them, they should relinquish their blockade of the seas, but if they retained the one, he in like manner would retain the other; that nevertheless, the treaty of accommodation might still be carried on, though these points were not conceded, and that they need not be an impediment to it." They would neither receive Caesar's commissioners, nor guarantee their safety, but referred the whole to Pompey. They urged and struggled eagerly to gain the one point respecting a truce. But when Caesar perceived that they had proposed the conference merely to avoid present danger and distress, but that they offered no hopes or terms of peace, he applied his thoughts to the prosecution of the war. XVIII.--Bibulus, being prevented from landing for several days, and being seized with a violent distemper from the cold and fatigue, as he could neither be cured on board, nor was willing to desert the charge which he had taken upon him, was unable to bear up against the violence of the disease. On his death, the sole command devolved on no single individual, but each admiral managed his own division separately, and at his own discretion. Vibullius, as soon as the alarm, which Caesar's unexpected arrival had raised, was over, began again to deliver Caesar's message in the presence of Libo, Lucius Lucceius, and Theophanes, to whom Pompey used to communicate his most confidential secrets. He had scarcely entered on the subject when Pompey interrupted him, and forbade him to proceed. "What need," says he, "have I of life or Rome, if the world shall think I enjoy them by the bounty of Caesar; an opinion which can never be removed whilst it shall be thought that I have been brought back by him to Italy, from which I set out." After the conclusion of the war, Caesar was informed of these expressions by some persons who were present at the conversation. He attempted, however, by other means to bring about a negotiation of peace. XIX.--Between Pompey's and Caesar's camp there was only the river Apsus, and the soldiers frequently conversed with each other; and by a private arrangement among themselves, no weapons were thrown during their conferences. Caesar sent Publius Vatinius, one of his lieutenants, to the bank of the river, to make such proposals as should appear most conducive to peace; and to cry out frequently with a loud voice [asking], "Are citizens permitted to send deputies to citizens to treat of peace? a concession which had been made even to fugitives on the Pyrenean mountains, and to robbers, especially when by so doing they would prevent citizens from fighting against citizens." Having spoken much in humble language, as became a man pleading for his own and the general safety, and being listened to with silence by the soldiers of both armies, he received an answer from the enemy's party that Aulus Varro proposed coming the next day to a conference, and that deputies from both sides might come without danger, and explain their wishes, and accordingly a fixed time was appointed for the interview. When the deputies met the next day, a great multitude from both sides assembled, and the expectations of every person concerning this subject were raised very high, and their minds seemed to be eagerly disposed for peace. Titus Labienus walked forward from the crowd, and in submissive terms began to speak of peace, and to argue with Vatinius. But their conversation was suddenly interrupted by darts thrown from all sides, from which Vatinius escaped by being protected by the arms of the soldiers. However, several were wounded; and among them Cornelius Balbus, Marcus Plotius, and Lucius Tiburtius, centurions, and some privates; hereupon Labienus exclaimed, "Forbear, then, to speak any more about an accommodation, for we can have no peace unless we carry Caesar's head back with us." XX.--At the same time in Rome, Marcus Caelius Rufus, one of the praetors, having undertaken the cause of the debtors, on entering into his office, fixed his tribunal near the bench of Caius Trebonius, the city praetor, and promised if any person appealed to him in regard to the valuation and payment of debts made by arbitration, as appointed by Caesar when in Rome, that he would relieve them. But it happened, from the justice of Trebonius's decrees and his humanity (for he thought that in such dangerous times justice should be administered with moderation and compassion), that not one could be found who would offer himself the first to lodge an appeal. For to plead poverty, to complain of his own private calamities, or the general distresses of the times, or to assert the difficulty of setting the goods to sale, is the behaviour of a man even of a moderate temper; but to retain their possessions entire, and at the same time acknowledge themselves in debt, what sort of spirit, and what impudence would it not have argued! Therefore nobody was found so unreasonable as to make such demands. But Caelius proved more severe to those very persons for whose advantage it had been designed; and starting from this beginning, in order that he might not appear to have engaged in so dishonourable an affair without effecting something, he promulgated a law, that all debts should be discharged in six equal payments, of six months each, without interest. XXI.--When Servilius, the consul, and the other magistrates opposed him, and he himself effected less than he expected, in order to raise the passions of the people, he dropped it, and promulgated two others; one, by which he remitted the annual rents of the houses to the tenants, the other, an act of insolvency: upon which the mob made an assault on Caius Trebonius, and having wounded several persons, drove him from his tribunal. The consul Servilius informed the senate of his proceedings, who passed a decree that Caelius should be removed from the management of the republic. Upon this decree, the consul forbade him the senate; and when he was attempting to harangue the people, turned him out of the rostrum. Stung with the ignominy and with resentment, he pretended in public that he would go to Caesar, but privately sent messengers to Milo, who had murdered Clodius, and had been condemned for it; and having invited him into Italy, because he had engaged the remains of the gladiators to his interest, by making them supple presents, he joined him, and sent him to Thurinum to tamper with the shepherds. When he himself was on his road to Casilinum, at the same time that his military standards and arms were seized at Capua, his slaves seen at Naples, and the design of betraying the town discovered: his plots being revealed, and Capua shut against him, being apprehensive of danger, because the Roman citizens residing there had armed themselves, and thought he ought to be treated as an enemy to the state, he abandoned his first design, and changed his route. XXII.--Milo in the meantime despatched letters to the free towns, purporting that he acted as he did by the orders and commands of Pompey, conveyed to him by Bibulus: and he endeavoured to engage in his interest all persons whom he imagined were under difficulties by reason of their debts. But not being able to prevail with them, he set at liberty some slaves from the work-houses, and began to assault Cosa in the district of Thurinum. There having received a blow of a stone thrown from the wall of the town which was commanded by Quintus Pedius with one legion, he died of it; and Caelius having set out, as he pretended for Caesar, went to Thurii, where he was put to death as he was tampering with some of the freemen of the town, and was offering money to Caesar's Gallic and Spanish horse, which he had sent there to strengthen the garrison. And thus these mighty beginnings, which had embroiled Italy, and kept the magistrates employed, found a speedy and happy issue. XXIII.--Libo having sailed from Oricum, with a fleet of fifty ships, which he commanded, came to Brundisium, and seized an island, which lies opposite to the harbour; judging it better to guard that place, which was our only pass to sea, than to keep all the shores and ports blocked up by a fleet. By his sudden arrival, he fell in with some of our transports, and set them on fire, and carried off one laden with corn; he struck great terror into our men, and having in the night landed a party of soldiers and archers, he beat our guard of horse from their station, and gained so much by the advantage of situation, that he despatched letters to Pompey, that if he pleased he might order the rest of the ships to be hauled upon shore and repaired; for that with his own fleet he could prevent Caesar from receiving his auxiliaries. XXIV.--Antonius was at this time at Brundisium, and relying on the valour of his troops, covered about sixty of the long-boats belonging to the men-of-war with penthouses and bulwarks of hurdles, and put on board them select soldiers; and disposed them separately along the shore: and under the pretext of keeping the seamen in exercise, he ordered two three-banked galleys, which he had built at Brundisium, to row to the mouth of the port. When Libo saw them advancing boldly towards him, he sent five four-banked galleys against them, in hopes of intercepting them. When these came near our ships, our veteran soldiers retreated within the harbour. The enemy, urged by their eagerness to capture them, pursued them unguardedly; for instantly the boats of Antonius, on a certain signal, rowed with great violence from all parts against the enemy; and at the first charge took one of the four-banked galleys, with the seamen and marines, and forced the rest to flee disgracefully. In addition to this loss, they were prevented from getting water by the horse which Antonius had disposed along the sea-coast. Libo, vexed at the distress and disgrace, departed from Brundisium, and abandoned the blockade. XXV.--Several months had now elapsed, and winter was almost gone, and Caesar's legions and shipping were not coming to him from Brundisium, and he imagined that some opportunities had been neglected, for the winds had at least been often favourable, and he thought that he must trust to them at last. And the longer it was deferred, the more eager were those who commanded Pompey's fleet to guard the coast, and were more confident of preventing our getting assistance: they receive frequent reproofs from Pompey by letter, that as they had not prevented Caesar's arrival at the first, they should at least stop the remainder of his army: and they were expecting that the season for transporting troops would become more unfavourable every day, as the winds grew calmer. Caesar, feeling some trouble on this account, wrote in severe terms to his officers at Brundisium, [and gave them orders] that as soon as they found the wind to answer, they should not let the opportunity of setting sail pass by, if they were even to steer their course to the shore of Apollonia: because there they might run their ships on ground. That these parts principally were left unguarded by the enemy's fleet, because they dare not venture too far from the harbour. XXVI.--They [his officers], exerting boldness and courage, aided by the instructions of Marcus Antonius, and Fufius Kalenus, and animated by the soldiers strongly encouraging them, and declining no danger for Caesar's safety, having got a southerly wind, weighed anchor, and the next day were carried past Apollonia and Dyrrachium, and being seen from the continent, Quintus Coponius, who commanded the Rhodian fleet at Dyrrachium, put out of the port with his ships; and when they had almost come up with us, in consequence of the breeze dying away, the south wind sprang up afresh, and rescued us. However, he did not desist from his attempt, but hoped by the labour and perseverance of his seamen to be able to bear up against the violence of the storm; and although we were carried beyond Dyrrachium, by the violence of the wind, he nevertheless continued to chase us. Our men, taking advantage of fortune's kindness, for they were still afraid of being attacked by the enemy's fleet, if the wind abated, having come near a port, called Nymphaeum, about three miles beyond Lissus, put into it (this port is protected from a south-west wind, but is not secure against a south wind); and thought less danger was to be apprehended from the storm than from the enemy. But as soon as they were within the port, the south wind, which had blown for two days, by extraordinary good luck veered round to the south-west. XXVII.--Here one might observe the sudden turns of fortune. We who, a moment before, were alarmed for ourselves, were safely lodged in a very secure harbour: and they who had threatened ruin to our fleet, were forced to be uneasy on their own account: and thus, by a change of circumstances, the storm protected our ships, and damaged the Rhodian fleet to such a degree, that all their decked ships, sixteen in number, foundered, without exception, and were wrecked: and of the prodigious number of seamen and soldiers, some lost their lives by being dashed against the rocks, others were taken by our men: but Caesar sent them all safe home. XXVIII.--Two of our ships, that had not kept up with the rest, being overtaken by the night, and not knowing what port the rest had made to, came to an anchor opposite Lissus. Otacilius Crassus, who commanded Pompey's fleet, detached after them several barges and small craft, and attempted to take them. At the same time, he treated with them about capitulating, and promised them their lives if they would surrender. One of them carried two hundred and twenty recruits, the other was manned with somewhat less than two hundred veterans. Here it might be seen what security men derive from a resolute spirit. For the recruits, frightened at the number of vessels, and fatigued with the rolling of the sea; and with sea-sickness, surrendered to Otacilius, after having first received his oath, that the enemy would not injure them; but as soon as they were brought before him, contrary to the obligation of his oath, they were inhumanly put to death in his presence. But the soldiers of the veteran legion, who had also struggled, not only with the inclemency of the weather, but by labouring at the pump, thought it their duty to remit nothing of their former valour: and having protracted the beginning of the night in settling the terms, under pretence of surrendering, they obliged the pilot to run the ship aground: and having got a convenient place on the shore, they spent the rest of the night there, and at daybreak, when Otacilius had sent against them a party of the horse, who guarded that part of the coast, to the number of four hundred, besides some armed men, who had followed them from the garrison, they made a brave defence, and having killed some of them, retreated in safety to our army. XXIX.--After this action, the Roman citizens, who resided at Lissus, a town which Caesar had before assigned them, and had carefully fortified, received Antony into their town, and gave him every assistance. Otacilius, apprehensive for his own safety, escaped out of the town, and went to Pompey. All his forces, whose number amounted to three veteran legions, and one of recruits, and about eight hundred horse, being landed, Antony sent most of his ships back to Italy, to transport the remainder of the soldiers and horse. The pontons, which are a sort of Gallic ships, he left at Lissus with this object, that if Pompey, imagining Italy defenceless, should transport his army thither (and this notion was spread among the common people), Caesar might have some means of pursuing him; and he sent messengers to him with great despatch, to inform him in what part of the country he had landed his army, and what number of troops he had brought over with him. XXX.--Caesar and Pompey received this intelligence almost at the same time; for they had seen the ships sail past Apollonia and Dyrrachium. They directed their march after them by land; but at first they were ignorant to what part they had been carried; but when they were informed of it, they each adopted a different plan; Caesar, to form a junction with Antonius as soon as possible, Pompey, to oppose Antonius's forces on their march to Caesar, and, if possible, to fall upon them unexpectedly from ambush. And the same day they both led out their armies from their winter encampment along the river Apsus; Pompey, privately by night; Caesar, openly by day. But Caesar had to march a longer circuit up the river to find a ford. Pompey's route being easy, because he was not obliged to cross the river, he advanced rapidly and by forced marches against Antonius, and being informed of his approach, chose a convenient situation, where he posted his forces; and kept his men close within camp, and forbade fires to be kindled, that his arrival might be the more secret. An account of this was immediately carried to Antonius by the Greeks. He despatched messengers to Caesar, and confined himself in his camp for one day. The next day Caesar came up with him. On learning his arrival, Pompey, to prevent his being hemmed in between two armies, quitted his position, and went with all his forces to Asparagium, in the territory of Dyrrachium, and there encamped in a convenient situation. XXXI.--During these times, Scipio, though he had sustained some losses near mount Amanus, had assumed to himself the title of imperator, after which he demanded large sums of money from the states and princes. He had also exacted from the tax-gatherers two years' rents that they owed; and enjoined them to lend him the amount of the next year, and demanded a supply of horse from the whole province. When they were collected, leaving behind him his neighbouring enemies, the Parthians (who shortly before had killed Marcus Crassus, the imperator, and had kept Marcus Bibulus besieged), he drew his legions and cavalry out of Syria; and when he came into the province, which was under great anxiety and fear of the Parthian war, and heard some declarations of the soldiers, "That they would march against an enemy, if he would lead them on; but would never bear arms against a countryman and consul"; he drew off his legions to winter quarters to Pergamus, and the most wealthy cities, and made them rich presents: and in order to attach them more firmly to his interest, permitted them to plunder the cities. XXXII.--In the meantime, the money which had been demanded from the province at large, was most rigorously exacted. Besides, many new imposts of different kinds were devised to gratify his avarice. A tax of so much a head was laid on every slave and child. Columns, doors, corn, soldiers, sailors, arms, engines, and carriages, were made subject to a duty. Wherever a name could be found for anything, it was deemed a sufficient reason for levying money on it. Officers were appointed to collect it, not only in the cities, but in almost every village and fort: and whosoever of them acted with the greatest rigour and inhumanity, was esteemed the best man, and best citizen. The province was overrun with bailiffs and officers, and crowded with overseers and tax-gatherers; who, besides the duties imposed, exacted a gratuity for themselves; for they asserted, that being expelled from their own homes and countries, they stood in need of every necessary; endeavouring by a plausible pretence to colour the most infamous conduct. To this was added the most exorbitant interest, as usually happens in times of war; the whole sums being called in, on which occasion they alleged that the delay of a single day was a donation. Therefore, in those two years, the debt of the province was doubled: but notwithstanding, taxes were exacted, not only from the Roman citizens, but from every corporation and every state. And they said that these were loans, exacted by the senate's decree. The taxes of the ensuing year were demanded beforehand as a loan from the collectors, as on their first appointment. XXXIII.--Moreover, Scipio ordered the money formerly lodged in the temple of Diana at Ephesus, to be taken out with the statues of that goddess which remained there. When Scipio came to the temple, letters were delivered to him from Pompey, in the presence of several senators, whom he had called upon to attend him; [informing him] that Caesar had crossed the sea with his legions; that Scipio should hasten to him with his army, and postpone all other business. As soon as he received the letter, he dismissed his attendants, and began to prepare for his journey to Macedonia; and a few days after set out. This circumstance saved the money at Ephesus. XXXIV.--Caesar, having effected a junction with Antonius's army, and having drawn his legion out of Oricum, which he had left there to guard the coast, thought he ought to sound the inclination of the provinces, and march farther into the country; and when ambassadors came to him from Thessaly and Aetolia, to engage that the states in those countries would obey his orders, if he sent a garrison to protect them, he despatched Lucius Cassius Longinus, with the twenty-seventh, a legion composed of young soldiers, and two hundred horse, to Thessaly: and Caius Calvisius Sabinus, with five cohorts, and a small party of horse, into Aetolia. He recommended them to be especially careful to provide corn, because those regions were nearest to him. He ordered Cneius Domitius Calvinus to march into Macedonia with two legions, the eleventh and twelfth, and five hundred horse; from which province, Menedemus, the principal man of those regions, on that side which is called the Free, having come as ambassador, assured him of the most devoted affection of all his subjects. XXXV.--Of these Calvisius, on his first arrival in Aetolia, being very kindly received, dislodged the enemy's garrisons in Calydon and Naupactus, and made himself master of the whole country. Cassius went to Thessaly with his legion. As there were two factions there, he found the citizens divided in their inclinations. Hegasaretus, a man of established power, favoured Pompey's interest. Petreius, a young man of a most noble family, warmly supported Caesar with his own and his friends' influence. XXXVI.--At the same time, Domitius arrived in Macedonia: and when numerous embassies had begun to wait on him from many of the states, news was brought that Scipio was approaching with his legions, which occasioned various opinions and reports; for in strange events, rumour generally goes before. Without making any delay in any part of Macedonia, he marched with great haste against Domitius; and when he was come within about twenty miles of him, wheeled on a sudden towards Cassius Longinus in Thessaly. He effected this with such celerity, that news of his march and arrival came together; for to render his march expeditious, he left the baggage of his legions behind him at the river Haliacmon, which divides Macedonia from Thessaly, under the care of Marcus Favonius, with a guard of eight cohorts, and ordered him to build a strong fort there. At the same time, Cotus's cavalry, which used to infest the neighbourhood of Macedonia, flew to attack Cassius's camp, at which Cassius being alarmed, and having received information of Scipio's approach, and seen the horse, which he imagined to be Scipio's, he betook himself to the mountains that environ Thessaly, and thence began to make his route towards Ambracia. But when Scipio was hastening to pursue him, despatches overtook him from Favonius, that Domitius was marching against him with his legions, and that he could not maintain the garrison over which he was appointed, without Scipio's assistance. On receipt of these despatches, Scipio changed his designs and his route, desisted from his pursuit of Cassius, and hastened to relieve Favonius. Accordingly, continuing his march day and night, he came to him so opportunely, that the dust raised by Domitius's army, and Scipio's advanced guard, were observed at the same instant. Thus, the vigilance of Domitius saved Cassius, and the expedition of Scipio, Favonius. XXXVII--Scipio, having stayed for two days in his camp, along the river Haliacmon, which ran between him and Domitius's camp, on the third day, at dawn, led his army across a ford, and having made a regular encampment the day following, drew up his forces in front of his camp. Domitius thought he ought not to show any reluctance, but should draw out his forces and hazard a battle. But as there was a plain six miles in breadth between the two camps, he posted his army before Scipio's camp; while the latter persevered in not quitting his entrenchment. However, Domitius with difficulty restrained his men, and prevented their beginning a battle; the more so as a rivulet with steep banks, joining Scipio's camp, retarded the progress of our men. When Scipio perceived the eagerness and alacrity of our troops to engage, suspecting that he should be obliged the next day, either to fight, against his inclination, or to incur great disgrace by keeping within his camp, though he had come with high expectation, yet by advancing rashly, made a shameful end; and at night crossed the river, without even giving the signal for breaking up the camp, and returned to the ground from which he came, and there encamped near the river, on an elevated situation. After a few days, he placed a party of horse in ambush in the night, where our men had usually gone to forage for several days before. And when Quintus Varus, commander of Domitius's horse, came there as usual, they suddenly rushed from their ambush. But our men bravely supported their charge, and returned quickly every man to his own rank, and in their turn, made a general charge on the enemy: and having killed about eighty of them, and put the rest to flight, retreated to their camp with the loss of only two men. XXXVIII.--After these transactions, Domitius, hoping to allure Scipio to a battle, pretended to be obliged to change his position through want of corn, and having given the signal for decamping, advanced about three miles, and posted his army and cavalry in a convenient place, concealed from the enemy's view. Scipio being in readiness to pursue him, detached his cavalry and a considerable number of light infantry to explore Domitius's route. When they had marched a short way, and their foremost troops were within reach of our ambush, their suspicions being raised by the neighing of the horses, they began to retreat: and the rest who followed them, observing with what speed they retreated, made a halt. Our men, perceiving that the enemy had discovered their plot, and thinking it in vain to wait for any more, having got two troops in their power, intercepted them. Among them was Marcus Opimius, general of the horse, but he made his escape: they either killed or took prisoners all the rest of these two troops, and brought them to Domitius. XXXIX.--Caesar, having drawn his garrisons out of the sea-ports, as before mentioned, left three cohorts at Oricum to protect the town, and committed to them the charge of his ships of war, which he had transported from Italy. Acilius, as lieutenant-general, had the charge of this duty and the command of the town; he drew the ships into the inner part of the harbour, behind the town, and fastened them to the shore, and sank a merchant-ship in the mouth of the harbour to block it up; and near it he fixed another at anchor, on which he raised a turret, and faced it to the entrance of the port, and filled it with soldiers, and ordered them to keep guard against any sudden attack. XL.--Cneius, Pompey's son, who commanded the Egyptian fleet, having got intelligence of these things, came to Oricum, and weighed up the ship, that had been sunk, with a windlass, and by straining at it with several ropes, and attacked the other which had been placed by Acilius to watch the port with several ships, on which he had raised very high turrets, so that fighting as it were from an eminence, and sending fresh men constantly to relieve the fatigued, and at the same time attempting the town on all sides by land, with ladders and his fleet, in order to divide the force of his enemies, he overpowered our men by fatigue, and the immense number of darts, and took the ship, having beat off the men who were put on board to defend it, who, however, made their escape in small boats; and at the same time he seized a natural mole on the opposite side, which almost formed an island over against the town. He carried over land, into the inner part of the harbour, four galleys, by putting rollers under them, and driving them on with levers. Then attacking on both sides the ships of war which were moored to the shore, and were not manned, he carried off four of them, and set the rest on fire. After despatching this business, he left Decimus Laelius, whom he had taken away from the command of the Asiatic fleet, to hinder provisions from being brought into the town from Biblis and Amantia, and went himself to Lissus, where he attacked thirty merchantmen, left within the port by Antonius, and set them on fire. He attempted to storm Lissus, but being delayed three days by the vigorous defence of the Roman citizens who belonged to that district, and of the soldiers which Caesar had sent to keep garrison there, and having lost a few men in the assault, he returned without effecting his object. XLI.--As soon as Caesar heard that Pompey was at Asparagium, he set out for that place with his army, and having taken the capital of the Parthinians on his march, where there was a garrison of Pompey's, he reached Pompey in Macedonia, on the third day, and encamped beside him; and the day following, having drawn out all his forces before his camp, he offered Pompey battle. But perceiving that he kept within his trenches, he led his army back to his camp, and thought of pursuing some other plan. Accordingly, the day following, he set out with all his forces by a long circuit, through a difficult and narrow road to Dyrrachium; hoping, either that Pompey would be compelled to follow him to Dyrrachium, or that his communication with it might be cut off, because he had deposited there all his provisions and mat['e]riel of war. And so it happened; for Pompey, at first not knowing his design, because he imagined he had taken a route in a different direction from that country, thought that the scarcity of provisions had obliged him to shift his quarters; but having afterwards got true intelligence from his scouts, he decamped the day following, hoping to prevent him by taking a shorter road; which Caesar suspecting might happen, encouraged his troops to submit cheerfully to the fatigue, and having halted a very small part of the night, he arrived early in the morning at Dyrrachium, when the van of Pompey's army was visible at a distance, and there he encamped. XLII.--Pompey, being cut off from Dyrrachium, as he was unable to effect his purpose, took a new resolution, and entrenched himself strongly on a rising ground, which is called Petra, where ships of a small size can come in, and be sheltered from some winds. Here he ordered a part of his men-of-war to attend him, and corn and provisions to be brought from Asia, and from all the countries of which he kept possession. Caesar, imagining that the war would be protracted to too great a length, and despairing of his convoys from Italy, because all the coasts were guarded with great diligence by Pompey's adherents; and because his own fleets, which he had built during the winter, in Sicily, Gaul, and Italy, were detained; sent Lucius Canuleius into Epirus to procure corn; and because these countries were too remote, he fixed granaries in certain places, and regulated the carriage of the corn for the neighbouring states. He likewise gave directions that search should be made for whatever corn was in Lissus, the country of the Parthini, and all the places of strength. The quantity was very small, both from the nature of the land (for the country is rough and mountainous, and the people commonly import what grain they use); and because Pompey had foreseen what would happen, and some days before had plundered the Parthini, and having ravaged and dug up their houses, carried off all the corn, which he collected by means of his horse. XLIII.--Caesar, on being informed of these transactions, pursued measures suggested by the nature of the country. For round Pompey's camps there were several high and rough hills. These he first of all occupied with guards, and raised strong forts on them. Then drawing a fortification from one fort to another, as the nature of each position allowed, he began to draw a line of circumvallation round Pompey; with these views; as he had but a small quantity of corn, and Pompey was strong in cavalry, that he might furnish his army with corn and other necessaries from all sides with less danger: secondly, to prevent Pompey from foraging, and thereby render his horse ineffectual in the operations of the war; and thirdly, to lessen his reputation, on which he saw he depended greatly, among foreign nations, when a report should have spread throughout the world that he was blockaded by Caesar, and dare not hazard a battle. XLIV.--Neither was Pompey willing to leave the sea and Dyrrachium, because he had lodged his mat['e]riel there, his weapons, arms, and engines; and supplied his army with corn from it by his ships: nor was he able to put a stop to Caesar's works without hazarding a battle, which at that time he had determined not to do. Nothing was left but to adopt the last resource, namely, to possess himself of as many hills as he could, and cover as great an extent of country as possible with his troops, and divide Caesar's forces as much as possible; and so it happened: for having raised twenty-four forts, and taken in a compass of fifteen miles, he got forage in this space, and within this circuit there were several fields lately sown, in which the cattle might feed in the meantime. And as our men, who had completed their works by drawing lines of communication from one fort to another, were afraid that Pompey's men would sally out from some part, and attack us in the rear; so the enemy were making a continued fortification in a circuit within ours to prevent us from breaking in on any side, or surrounding them on the rear. But they completed their works first; both because they had a greater number of men, and because they had a smaller compass to enclose. When Caesar attempted to gain any place, though Pompey had resolved not to oppose him with his whole force or to come to a general engagement; yet he detached to particular places slingers and archers, with which his army abounded, and several of our men were wounded, and filled with great dread of the arrows; and almost all the soldiers made coats or coverings for themselves of hair cloths, tarpaulins, or raw hides to defend them against the weapons. XLV.--In seizing the posts, each exerted his utmost power: Caesar, to confine Pompey within as narrow a compass as possible; Pompey, to occupy as many hills as he could in as large a circuit as possible, and several skirmishes were fought in consequence of it. In one of these, when Caesar's ninth legion had gained a certain post, and had begun to fortify it; Pompey possessed himself of a hill near to and opposite the same place, and endeavoured to annoy the men while at work; and as the approach on one side was almost level, he first surrounded it with archers and slingers, and afterwards by detaching a strong party of light infantry, and using his engines, he stopped our works: and it was no easy matter for our men at once to defend themselves, and to proceed with their fortifications. When Caesar perceived that his troops were wounded from all sides, he determined to retreat and give up the post; his retreat was down a precipice, on which account they pushed on with more spirit, and would not allow us to retire, because they imagined that we resigned the place through fear. It is reported that Pompey said that day in triumph to his friends about him, "That he would consent to be accounted a general of no experience, if Caesar's legions effected a retreat without considerable loss from that ground into which they had rashly advanced." XLVI.--Caesar, being uneasy about the retreat of his soldiers, ordered hurdles to be carried to the further side of the hill, and to be placed opposite to the enemy, and behind them a trench of a moderate breadth to be sunk by his soldiers under shelter of the hurdles: and the ground to be made as difficult as possible. He himself disposed slingers in convenient places to cover our men in their retreat. These things being completed, he ordered his legions to file off. Pompey's men insultingly and boldly pursued and chased us, levelling the hurdles that were thrown up in the front of our works, in order to pass over the trench. Which as soon as Caesar perceived, being afraid that his men would appear not to retreat, but to be repulsed, and that greater loss might be sustained, when his men were almost half way down the hill, he encouraged them by Antonius, who commanded that legion, ordered the signal of battle to be sounded, and a charge to be made on the enemy. The soldiers of the ninth legion suddenly closing their files threw their javelins, and advancing impetuously from the low ground up the steep, drove Pompey's men precipitately before them, and obliged them to turn their backs; but their retreat was greatly impeded by the hurdles that lay in a long line before them, and the pallisadoes which were in their way, and the trenches that were sunk. But our men being contented to retreat without injury, having killed several of the enemy, and lost but five of their own, very quietly retired, and having seized some other hills somewhat on this side of that place, completed their fortifications. XLVII.--This method of conducting a war was new and unusual, as well on account of the number of forts, the extent and greatness of the works, and the manner of attack and defence, as on account of other circumstances. For all who have attempted to besiege any person, have attacked the enemy when they were frightened or weak, or after a defeat; or have been kept in fear of some attack, when they themselves have had a superior force both of foot and horse. Besides, the usual design of a siege is to cut off the enemy's supplies. On the contrary, Caesar, with an inferior force, was enclosing troops sound and unhurt, and who had abundance of all things. For there arrived every day a prodigious number of ships, which brought them provisions: nor could the wind blow from any point that would not be favourable to some of them. Whereas, Caesar, having consumed all the corn far and near, was in very great distress, but his soldiers bore all with uncommon patience. For they remembered that they lay under the same difficulties last year in Spain, and yet by labour and patience had concluded a dangerous war. They recollected too that they had suffered an alarming scarcity at Alesia, and a much greater at Avaricum, and yet had returned victorious over mighty nations. They refused neither barley nor pulse when offered them, and they held in great esteem cattle, of which they got great quantities from Epirus. XLVIII.--There was a sort of root, called chara, discovered by the troops which served under Valerius. This they mixed up with milk, and it greatly contributed to relieve their want. They made it into a sort of bread. They had great plenty of it: loaves made of this, when Pompey's men upbraided ours with want, they frequently threw among them to damp their hopes. XLIX.--The corn was now beginning to ripen, and their hope supported their want, as they were confident of having abundance in a short time. And there were frequently heard declarations of the soldiers on guard, in discourse with each other, that they would rather live on the bark of the trees, than let Pompey escape from their hands. For they were often told by deserters, that they could scarcely maintain their horses, and that their other cattle was dead: that they themselves were not in good health from their confinement within so narrow a compass, from the noisome smell, the number of carcasses, and the constant fatigue to them, being men unaccustomed to work, and labouring under a great want of water. For Caesar had either turned the course of all the rivers and streams which ran to the sea, or had dammed them up with strong works. And as the country was mountainous, and the valleys narrow at the bottom, he enclosed them with piles sunk in the ground, and heaped up mould against them to keep in the water. They were therefore obliged to search for low and marshy grounds, and to sink wells, and they had this labour in addition to their daily works. And even these springs were at a considerable distance from some of their posts, and soon dried up with the heat. But Caesar's army enjoyed perfect health and abundance of water, and had plenty of all sorts of provisions except corn; and they had a prospect of better times approaching, and saw greater hopes laid before them by the ripening of the grain. L.--In this new kind of war, new methods of managing it were invented by both generals. Pompey's men, perceiving by our fires at night, at what part of the works our cohorts were on guard, coming silently upon them discharged their arrows at random among the whole multitude, and instantly retired to their camp: as a remedy against which our men were taught by experience to light their fires in one place, and keep guard in another. * * * * * LI.--In the meantime, Publius Sylla, whom Caesar at his departure had left governor of his camp, came up with two legions to assist the cohort; upon whose arrival Pompey's forces were easily repulsed. Nor did they stand the sight and charge of our men, and the foremost falling, the rest turned their backs and quitted the field. But Sylla called our men in from the pursuit, lest their ardour should carry them too far, but most people imagine, that if he had consented to a vigorous pursuit, the war might have been ended that day. His conduct however does not appear to deserve censure; for the duties of a lieutenant-general and of a commander-in-chief are very different; the one is bound to act entirely according to his instructions, the other to regulate his conduct without control, as occasion requires. Sylla, being deputed by Caesar to take care of the camp, and having rescued his men, was satisfied with that, and did not desire to hazard a battle (although this circumstance might probably have had a successful issue), that he might not be thought to have assumed the part of the general. One circumstance laid the Pompeians under great difficulty in making good a retreat: for they had advanced from disadvantageous ground, and were posted on the top of a hill. If they attempted to retire down the steep, they dreaded the pursuit of our men from the rising ground, and there was but a short time till sunset: for in hopes of completing the business, they had protracted the battle almost till night. Taking therefore measures suited to their exigency, and to the shortness of the time, Pompey possessed himself of an eminence, at such a distance from our fort, that no weapon discharged from an engine could reach him. Here he took up a position, and fortified it, and kept all his forces there. LII.--At the same time, there were engagements in two other places; for Pompey had attacked several forts at once, in order to divide our forces; that no relief might be sent from the neighbouring posts. In one place, Volcatius Tullus sustained the charge of a legion with three cohorts, and beat them off the field. In another, the Germans, having sallied over our fortifications, slew several of the enemy, and retreated safe to our camp. LIII.--Thus six engagements having happened in one day, three at Dyrrachium, and three at the fortifications, when a computation was made of the number of slain, we found that about two thousand fell on Pompey's side, several of them volunteer veterans and centurions. Among them was Valerius, the son of Lucius Flaccus, who as praetor had formerly had the government of Asia, and six military standards were taken. Of our men, not more than twenty were missing in all the action. But in the fort, not a single soldier escaped without a wound; and in one cohort, four centurions lost their eyes. And being desirous to produce testimony of the fatigue they underwent, and the danger they sustained, they counted to Caesar about thirty thousand arrows which had been thrown into the fort; and in the shield of the centurion Scaeva, which was brought to him, were found two hundred and thirty holes. In reward for this man's services both to himself and the republic, Caesar presented to him two hundred thousand pieces of copper money, and declared him promoted from the eighth to the first centurion. For it appeared that the fort had been in a great measure saved by his exertions; and he afterwards very amply rewarded the cohorts with double pay, corn, clothing, and other military honours. LIV.--Pompey, having made great additions to his works in the night, the following days built turrets, and having carried his works fifteen feet high, faced that part of his camp with mantlets; and after an interval of five days, taking advantage of a second cloudy night, he barricaded all the gates of his camp to hinder a pursuit, and about midnight quietly marched off his army, and retreated to his old fortifications. LV.--Aetolia, Acarnania, and Amphilochis, being reduced, as we have related, by Cassius Longinus, and Calvisius Sabinus, Caesar thought he ought to attempt the conquest of Achaia, and to advance farther into the country. Accordingly, he detached Fufius thither, and ordered Quintus Sabinus and Cassius to join him with their cohorts. Upon notice of their approach, Rutilius Lupus, who commanded in Achaia, under Pompey, began to fortify the Isthmus, to prevent Fufius from coming into Achaia. Kalenus recovered Delphi, Thebes, and Orchomenus, by a voluntary submission of those states. Some he subdued by force, the rest he endeavoured to win over to Caesar's interest, by sending deputies round to them. In these things, principally, Fufius was employed. LVI.--Every day afterwards, Caesar drew up his army on a level ground, and offered Pompey battle, and led his legions almost close to Pompey's camp; and his front line was at no greater distance from the rampart than that no weapons from their engines could reach it. But Pompey, to save his credit and reputation with the world, drew out his legions, but so close to his camp that his rear lines might touch the rampart, and that his whole army, when drawn up, might be protected by the darts discharged from it. LVII.--Whilst these things were going forward in Achaia and at Dyrrachium, and when it was certainly known that Scipio was arrived in Macedonia, Caesar, never losing sight of his first intention, sends Clodius to him, an intimate friend to both, whom Caesar, on the introduction and recommendation of Pompey, had admitted into the number of his acquaintance. To this man he gave letters and instructions to Pompey, the substance of which was as follows: "That he had made every effort towards peace, and imputed the ill success of those efforts to the fault of those whom he had employed to conduct those negotiations: because they were afraid to carry his proposals to Pompey at an improper time. That Scipio had such authority, that he could not only freely explain what conduct met his approbation, but even in some degree enforce his advice, and govern him [Pompey] if he persisted in error; that he commanded an army independent of Pompey, so that besides his authority, he had strength to compel; and if he did so, all men would be indebted to him for the quiet of Italy, the peace of the provinces, and the preservation of the empire." These proposals Clodius made to him, and for some days at the first appeared to have met with a favourable reception, but afterwards was not admitted to an audience; for Scipio being reprimanded by Favonius, as we found afterwards when the war was ended, and the negotiation having miscarried, Clodius returned to Caesar. LVIII.--Caesar, that he might the more easily keep Pompey's horse enclosed within Dyrrachium, and prevent them from foraging, fortified the two narrow passes already mentioned with strong works, and erected forts at them. Pompey perceiving that he derived no advantage from his cavalry, after a few days had them conveyed back to his camp by sea. Fodder was so exceedingly scarce that he was obliged to feed his horses upon leaves stripped off the trees, or the tender roots of reeds pounded. For the corn which had been sown within the lines was already consumed, and they would be obliged to supply themselves with fodder from Corcyra and Acarnania, over a long tract of sea; and as the quantity of that fell short, to increase it by mixing barley with it, and by these methods support their cavalry. But when not only the barley and fodder in these parts were consumed, and the herbs cut away, when the leaves too were not to be found on the trees, the horses being almost starved, Pompey thought he ought to make some attempt by a sally. LIX.--In the number of Caesar's cavalry were two Allobrogians, brothers, named Roscillus and Aegus, the sons of Abducillus, who for several years possessed the chief power in his own state; men of singular valour, whose gallant services Caesar had found very useful in all his wars in Gaul. To them, for these reasons, he had committed the offices of greatest honour in their own country, and took care to have them chosen into the senate at an unusual age, and had bestowed on them lands taken from the enemy, and large pecuniary rewards, and from being needy had made them affluent. Their valour had not only procured them Caesar's esteem, but they were beloved by the whole army. But presuming on Caesar's friendship, and elated with the arrogance natural to a foolish and barbarous people, they despised their countrymen, defrauded their cavalry of their pay, and applied all the plunder to their own use. Displeased at this conduct, their soldiers went in a body to Caesar, and openly complained of their ill usage; and to their other charges added, that false musters were given in to Caesar, and the surcharged pay applied to their own use. LX.--Caesar, not thinking it a proper time to call them to account, and willing to pardon many faults, on account of their valour, deferred the whole matter, and gave them a private rebuke, for having made a traffic of their troops, and advised them to expect everything from his friendship, and by his past favours to measure their future hopes. This, however, gave them great offence, and made them contemptible in the eyes of the whole army. Of this they became sensible, as well from the reproaches of others, as from the judgment of their own minds, and a consciousness of guilt. Prompted then by shame, and perhaps imagining that they were not liberated from trial, but reserved to a future day, they resolved to break off from us, to put their fortune to a new hazard, and to make trial of new connections. And having conferred with a few of their clients, to whom they could venture to entrust so base an action, they first attempted to assassinate Caius Volusenus, general of the horse (as was discovered at the end of the war), that they might appear to have fled to Pompey after conferring an important service on him. But when that appeared too difficult to put in execution, and no opportunity offered to accomplish it, they borrowed all the money they could, as if they designed to make satisfaction and restitution for what they had defrauded: and having purchased a great number of horses, they deserted to Pompey along with those whom they had engaged in their plot. LXI.--As they were persons nobly descended and of liberal education, and had come with a great retinue, and several cattle, and were reckoned men of courage, and had been in great esteem with Caesar, and as it was a new and uncommon event, Pompey carried them round all his works, and made an ostentatious show of them, for till that day, not a soldier, either horse or foot, had deserted from Caesar to Pompey, though there were desertions almost every day from Pompey to Caesar: but more commonly among the soldiers levied in Epirus and Aetolia, and in those countries which were in Caesar's possession. But the brothers, having been acquainted with all things, either what was incomplete in our works, or what appeared to the best judges of military matters to be deficient, the particular times, the distance of places, and the various attention of the guards, according to the different temper and character of the officer who commanded the different posts, gave an exact account of all to Pompey. LXII.--Upon receiving this intelligence, Pompey, who had already formed the design of attempting a sally, as before mentioned, ordered the soldiers to make ozier coverings for their helmets, and to provide fascines. These things being prepared, he embarked on board small boats and row galleys by night, a considerable number of light infantry and archers, with all their fascines, and immediately after midnight, he marched sixty cohorts drafted from the greater camp and the outposts, to that part of our works which extended towards the sea, and were at the farthest distance from Caesar's greater camp. To the same place he sent the ships, which he had freighted with the fascines and light-armed troops; and all the ships of war that lay at Dyrrachium; and to each he gave particular instructions: at this part of the lines Caesar had posted Lentulus Marcellinus, the quaestor, with the ninth legion, and as he was not in a good state of health, Fulvius Costhumus was sent to assist him in the command. LXIII.--At this place, fronting the enemy, there was a ditch fifteen feet wide, and a rampart ten feet high, and the top of the rampart was ten feet in breadth. At an interval of six hundred feet from that there was another rampart turned the contrary way, with the works lower. For some days before, Caesar, apprehending that our men might be surrounded by sea, had made a double rampart there, that if he should be attacked on both sides, he might have the means in defending himself. But the extent of the lines, and the incessant labour for so many days, because he had enclosed a circuit of seventeen miles with his works, did not allow time to finish them. Therefore the transverse rampart which should make a communication between the other two, was not yet completed. This circumstance was known to Pompey, being told to him by the Allobrogian deserters, and proved of great disadvantage to us. For when our cohorts of the ninth legion were on guard by the sea-side, Pompey's army arrived suddenly by break of day, and their approach was a surprise to our men, and at the same time, the soldiers that came by sea cast their darts on the front rampart; and the ditches were filled with fascines: and the legionary soldiers terrified those that defended the inner rampart, by applying the scaling ladders, and by engines and weapons of all sorts, and a vast multitude of archers poured round upon them from every side. Besides, the coverings of oziers, which they had laid over their helmets, were a great security to them against the blows of stones which were the only weapons that our soldiers had. And therefore, when our men were oppressed in every manner, and were scarcely able to make resistance, the defect in our works was observed, and Pompey's soldiers, landing between the two ramparts, where the work was unfinished, attacked our men in the rear, and having beat them from both sides of the fortification, obliged them to flee. LXIV.--Marcellinus, being informed of this disorder, detached some cohorts to the relief of our men, who seeing them flee from the camp, were neither able to persuade them to rally at their approach, nor themselves to sustain the enemy's charge. And in like manner, whatever additional assistance was sent, was infected by the fears of the defeated, and increased the terror and danger. For retreat was prevented by the multitude of the fugitives. In that battle, when the eagle-bearer was dangerously wounded, and began to grow weak, having got sight of our horse, he said to them, "This eagle have I defended with the greatest care for many years, at the hazard of my life, and now in my last moments restore it to Caesar with the same fidelity. Do not, I conjure you, suffer a dishonour to be sustained in the field, which never before happened to Caesar's army, but deliver it safe into his hands." By this accident the eagle was preserved, but all the centurions of the first cohorts were killed, except the principal. LXV.--And now the Pompeians, after great havoc of our troops, were approaching Marcellinus's camp, and had struck no small terror into the rest of the cohorts, when Marcus Antonius, who commanded the nearest fort, being informed of what had happened, was observed descending from the rising ground with twelve cohorts. His arrival checked the Pompeians, and encouraged our men to recover from their extreme affright. And shortly after, Caesar having got notice by the smoke from all the forts, which was the usual signal on such occasions, drafted off some cohorts from the outposts, and went to the scene of action. And having there learnt the loss he had sustained, and perceiving that Pompey had forced our works, and had encamped along the coast, so that he was at liberty to forage, and had a communication with his shipping, he altered his plan for conducting the war, as his design had not succeeded, and ordered a strong encampment to be made near Pompey. LXVI.--When this work was finished, Caesar's scouts observed that some cohorts, which to them appeared like a legion, were retired behind the wood, and were on their march to the old camp. The situation of the two camps was as follows: a few days before, when Caesar's ninth legion had opposed a party of Pompey's troops, and were endeavouring to enclose them, Caesar's troops formed a camp in that place. This camp joined a certain wood, and was not above four hundred paces distant from the sea. Afterwards, changing his design for certain reasons, Caesar removed his camp to a small distance beyond that place; and after a few days, Pompey took possession of it, and added more extensive works, leaving the inner rampart standing, as he intended to keep several legions there. By this means, the lesser camp included within the greater, answered the purpose of a fort and citadel. He had also carried an entrenchment from the left angle of the camp to the river, about four hundred paces, that his soldiers might have more liberty and less danger in fetching water. But he too, changing his design for reasons not necessary to be mentioned, abandoned the place. In this condition the camp remained for several days, the works being all entire. LXVII.--Caesar's scouts brought him word that the standard of a legion was carried to this place. That the same thing was seen he was assured by those in the higher forts. This place was half a mile distant from Pompey's new camp. Caesar, hoping to surprise this legion, and anxious to repair the loss sustained that day, left two cohorts employed in the works to make an appearance of entrenching himself, and by a different route, as privately as he could, with his other cohorts amounting to thirty-three, among which was the ninth legion, which had lost so many centurions, and whose privates were greatly reduced in number, he marched in two lines against Pompey's legion and his lesser camp. Nor did this first opinion deceive him. For he reached the place before Pompey could have notice of it; and though the works were strong, yet having made the attack with the left wing, which he commanded in person, he obliged the Pompeians to quit the rampart in disorder. A barricade had been raised before the gates, at which a short contest was maintained, our men endeavouring to force their way in, and the enemy to defend the camp; Titus Pulcio, by whose means we have related that Caius Antonius's army was betrayed, defending them with singular courage. But the valour of our men prevailed, and having cut down the barricade, they first forced the greater camp, and after that the fort which was enclosed within it: and as the legion on its repulse had retired to this, they slew several defending themselves there. LXVIII.--But Fortune, who exerts a powerful influence as well in other matters, as especially in war, effects great changes from trifling causes, as happened at this time. For the cohorts on Caesar's right wing, through ignorance of the place, followed the direction of that rampart, which ran along from the camp to the river, whilst they were in search of a gate, and imagined that it belonged to the camp. But when they found that it led to the river, and that nobody opposed them, they immediately climbed over the rampart, and were followed by all our cavalry. LXIX.--In the meantime Pompey, by the great delay which this occasioned, being informed of what had happened, marched with the fifth legion, which he called away from their work to support his party; and at the same time his cavalry were advancing up to ours, and an army in order of battle was seen at a distance by our men who had taken possession of the camp, and the face of affairs was suddenly changed. For Pompey's legion, encouraged by the hope of speedy support, attempted to make a stand at the Decuman gate, and made a bold charge on our men. Caesar's cavalry, who had mounted the rampart by a narrow breach, being apprehensive of their retreat, were the first to flee. The right wing, which had been separated from the left, observing the terror of the cavalry, to prevent their being overpowered within the lines, were endeavouring to retreat by the same way as they burst in; and most of them, lest they should be engaged in the narrow passes, threw themselves down a rampart ten feet high into the trenches; and the first being trodden to death, the rest procured their safety and escaped over their bodies. The soldiers of the left wing, perceiving from the rampart that Pompey was advancing, and their own friends fleeing, being afraid that they should be enclosed between the two ramparts, as they had an enemy both within and without, strove to secure their retreat the same way they came. All was disorder, consternation, and flight; insomuch that, when Caesar laid hold of the colours of those who were running away, and desired them to stand, some left their horses behind, and continued to run in the same manner; others through fear even threw away their colours, nor did a single man face about. LXX.--In this calamity, the following favourable circumstance occurred to prevent the ruin of our whole army, viz., that Pompey suspecting an ambuscade (because, as I suppose, the success had far exceeded his hopes, as he had seen his men a moment before fleeing from the camp), durst not for some time approach the fortification; and that his horse were retarded from pursuing, because the passes and gates were in possession of Caesar's soldiers. Thus a trifling circumstance proved of great importance to each party; for the rampart drawn from the camp to the river, interrupted the progress and certainty of Caesar's victory, after he had forced Pompey's camp. The same thing, by retarding the rapidity of the enemy's pursuit, preserved our army. LXXI.--In the two actions of this day, Caesar lost nine hundred and sixty rank and file, several Roman knights of distinction, Felginas Tuticanus Gallus, a senator's son; Caius Felginas from Placentia; Aulus Gravius from Puteoli; Marcus Sacrativir from Capua; and thirty-two military tribunes and centurions. But the greatest part of all these perished without a wound, being trodden to death in the trenches, on the ramparts and banks of the river by reason of the terror and flight of their own men. Pompey, after this battle, was saluted Imperator; this title he retained, and allowed himself to be addressed by it afterwards. But neither in his letters to the senate, nor in the fasces, did he use the laurel as a mark of honour. But Labienus, having obtained his consent that the prisoners should be delivered up to him, had them all brought out, as it appeared, to make a show of them, and that Pompey might place a greater confidence in him who was a deserter; and calling them fellow soldiers, and asking them in the most insulting manner whether it was usual with veterans to flee, ordered them to be put to death in the sight of the whole army. LXXII.-Pompey's party were so elated with confidence and spirit at this success, that they thought no more of the method of conducting the war, but thought that they were already conquerors. They did not consider that the smallness of our numbers, and the disadvantage of the place and the confined nature of the ground occasioned by their having first possessed themselves of the camp, and the double danger both from within and without the fortifications, and the separation of the army into two parts, so that the one could not give relief to the other, were the cause of our defeat. They did not consider, in addition, that the contest was not decided by a vigorous attack, nor a regular battle; and that our men had suffered greater loss from their numbers and want of room, than they had sustained from the enemy. In fine, they did not reflect on the common casualties of war; how trifling causes, either from groundless suspicions, sudden affright, or religious scruples, have oftentimes been productive of considerable losses; how often an army has been unsuccessful either by the misconduct of the general, or the oversight of a tribune; but as if they had proved victorious by their valour, and as if no change could ever take place, they published the success of the day throughout the world by reports and letters. LXXIII.--Caesar, disappointed in his first intentions, resolved to change the whole plan of his operations. Accordingly, he at once called in all out-posts, gave over the siege, and collecting his army into one place, addressed his soldiers and encouraged them "not to be troubled at what had happened, nor to be dismayed at it, but to weigh their many successful engagements against one disappointment, and that, too, a trifling one. That they ought to be grateful to Fortune, through whose favour they had recovered Italy without the effusion of blood; through whose favour they had subdued the two Spains, though protected by a most warlike people under the command of the most skilful and experienced generals: through whose favour they had reduced to submission the neighbouring states that abounded with corn: in fine, that they ought to remember with what success they had been all transported safe through blockading fleets of the enemy, which possessed not only the ports, but even the coasts: that if all their attempts were not crowned with success, the defects of Fortune must be supplied by industry; and whatever loss had been sustained, ought to be attributed rather to her caprices than to any faults in him: that he had chosen a safe ground for the engagement, that he had possessed himself of the enemy's camp; that he had beaten them out, and overcome them when they offered resistance; but whether their own terror or some mistake, or whether Fortune herself had interrupted a victory almost secured and certain, they ought all now to use their utmost efforts to repair by their valour the loss which had been incurred; if they did so, their misfortunes would turn to their advantage, as it happened at Gergovia, and those who feared to face the enemy would be the first to offer themselves to battle. LXXIV.--Having concluded his speech, he disgraced some standard-bearers, and reduced them to the ranks; for the whole army was seized with such grief at their loss, and with such an ardent desire of repairing their disgrace, that not a man required the command of his tribune or centurion, but they imposed each on himself severer labours than usual as a punishment, and at the same time were so inflamed with eagerness to meet the enemy, that the officers of the first rank, sensibly affected at their entreaties, were of opinion that they ought to continue in their present posts, and commit their fate to the hazard of a battle. But, on the other hand, Caesar could not place sufficient confidence in men so lately thrown into consternation, and thought he ought to allow them time to recover their dejected spirits; and having abandoned his works, he was apprehensive of being distressed for want of corn. LXXV.--Accordingly, suffering no time to intervene but what was necessary for a proper attention to be paid to the sick and wounded, he sent on all his baggage privately in the beginning of the night from his camp to Apollonia, and ordered them not to halt till they had performed their journey; and he detached one legion with them as a convoy. This affair being concluded, having retained only two legions in his camp; he marched the rest of his army out at three o'clock in the morning by several gates, and sent them forward by the same route; and in a short space after, that the military practice might be preserved, and his march known as late as possible, he ordered the signal for decamping to be given; and setting out immediately, and following the rear of his own army, he was soon out of sight of the camp. Nor did Pompey, as soon as he had notice of his design, make any delay to pursue him; but with a view to surprise them whilst encumbered with baggage on their march, and not yet recovered from their fright, he led his army out of his camp, and sent his cavalry on to retard our rear; but was not able to come up with them, because Caesar had got far before him, and marched without baggage. But when we reached the river Genusus, the banks being steep, their horse overtook our rear, and detained them by bringing them to action. To oppose whom, Caesar sent his horse, and intermixed with them about four hundred of his advanced light troops, who attacked their horse with such success, that having routed them all, and killed several, they returned without any loss to the main body. LXXVI.--Having performed the exact march which he had proposed that day, and having led his army over the river Genusus, Caesar posted himself in his old camp opposite Asparagium; and kept his soldiers close within the entrenchments; and ordered the horse, who had been sent out under pretence of foraging, to retire immediately into the camp, through the Decuman gate. Pompey, in like manner, having completed the same day's march, took post in his old camp at Asparagium; and his soldiers, as they had no work (the fortifications being entire), made long excursions, some to collect wood and forage; others, invited by the nearness of the former camp, laid up their arms in their tents, and quitted the entrenchments in order to bring what they had left behind them, because the design of marching being adopted in a hurry, they had left a considerable part of their waggons and luggage behind. Being thus incapable of pursuing, as Caesar had foreseen, about noon he gave the signal for marching, led out his army, and doubling that day's march, he advanced eight miles beyond Pompey's camp; who could not pursue him, because his troops were dispersed. LXXVII.--The next day Caesar sent his baggage forward early in the night, and marched off himself immediately after the fourth watch: that if he should be under the necessity of risking an engagement, he might meet a sudden attack with an army free from incumbrance. He did so for several days successively, by which means he was enabled to effect his march over the deepest rivers, and through the most intricate roads without any loss. For Pompey, after the first day's delay, and the fatigue which he endured for some days in vain, though he exerted himself by forced marches, and was anxious to overtake us, who had got the start of him, on the fourth day desisted from the pursuit, and determined to follow other measures. LXXVIII.--Caesar was obliged to go to Apollonia, to lodge his wounded, pay his army, confirm his friends, and leave garrisons in the towns. But for these matters, he allowed no more time than was necessary for a person in haste. And being apprehensive for Domitius, lest he should be surprised by Pompey's arrival, he hastened with all speed and earnestness to join him; for he planned the operations of the whole campaign on these principles: that if Pompey should march after him, he would be drawn off from the sea, and from those forces which he had provided in Dyrrachium, and separated from his corn and magazines, and be obliged to carry on the war on equal terms; but if he crossed over into Italy, Caesar, having effected a junction with Domitius, would march through Illyricum to the relief of Italy; but if he endeavoured to storm Apollonia and Oricum, and exclude him from the whole coast, he hoped, by besieging Scipio, to oblige him, of necessity, to come to his assistance. Accordingly, Caesar despatching couriers, writes to Domitius, and acquaints him with his wishes on the subject: and having stationed a garrison of four cohorts at Apollonia, one at Lissus, and three at Oricum, besides those who were sick of their wounds, he set forward on his march through Epirus and Acarnania. Pompey, also, guessing at Caesar's design, determined to hasten to Scipio, that if Caesar should march in that direction, he might be ready to relieve him; but that if Caesar should be unwilling to quit the sea-coast and Corcyra, because he expected legions and cavalry from Italy, he himself might fall on Domitius with all his forces. LXXIX.--For these reasons, each of them studied despatch, that he might succour his friends, and not miss an opportunity of surprising his enemies. But Caesar's engagements at Apolloma had carried him aside from the direct road. Pompey had taken the short road to Macedonia, through Candavia. To this was added another unexpected disadvantage, that Domitius, who for several days had been encamped opposite Scipio, had quitted that post for the sake of provisions, and had marched to Heraclea Sentica, a city subject to Candavia; so that fortune herself seemed to throw him in Pompey's way. Of this, Caesar was ignorant up to this time. Letters likewise being sent by Pompey through all the provinces and states, with an account of the action at Dyrrachium, very much enlarged and exaggerated beyond the real facts, a rumour had been circulated, that Caesar had been defeated and forced to flee, and had lost almost all his forces. These reports had made the roads dangerous, and drawn off some states from his alliance: whence it happened, that the messengers despatched by Caesar, by several different roads to Domitius, and by Domitius to Caesar, were not able by any means to accomplish their journey. But the Allobroges, who were in the retinue of Aegus and Roscillus, and who had deserted to Pompey, having met on the road a scouting party of Domitius; either from old acquaintance, because they had served together in Gaul, or elated with vain glory, gave them an account of all that had happened, and informed them of Caesar's departure, and Pompey's arrival. Domitius, who was scarce four hours' march distant, having got intelligence from these, by the courtesy of the enemy, avoided the danger, and met Caesar coming to join him at Aeginium, a town on the confines of and opposite to Thessaly. LXXX.--The two armies being united, Caesar marched to Gomphi, which is the first town of Thessaly on the road from Epirus. Now, the Thessalians, a few months before, had of themselves sent ambassadors to Caesar, offering him the free use of everything in their power, and requesting a garrison for their protection. But the report, already spoken of, of the battle at Dyrrachium, which it had exaggerated in many particulars, had arrived before him. In consequence of which, Androsthenes, the praetor of Thessaly, as he preferred to be the companion of Pompey's victory, rather than Caesar's associate in his misfortunes, collected all the people, both slaves and freemen, from the country into the town and shut the gates, and despatched messengers to Scipio and Pompey "to come to his relief, that he could depend on the strength of the town, if succour was speedily sent; but that it could not withstand a long siege." Scipio, as soon as he received advice of the departure of the armies from Dyrrachium, had marched with his legions to Larissa: Pompey was not yet arrived near Thessaly. Caesar having fortified his camp, ordered scaling ladders and pent-houses to be made for a sudden assault, and hurdles to be provided. As soon as they were ready, he exhorted his soldiers, and told them of what advantage it would be to assist them with all sorts of necessaries if they made themselves masters of a rich and plentiful town: and, at the same time, to strike terror into other states by the example of this, and to effect this with speed, before auxiliaries could arrive. Accordingly, taking advantage of the unusual ardour of the soldiers, he began his assault on the town at a little after three o'clock on the very day on which he arrived, and took it, though defended with very high walls, before sunset, and gave it up to his army to plunder, and immediately decamped from before it, and marched to Metropolis, with such rapidity as to outstrip any messenger or rumour of the taking of Gomphi. LXXXI.--The inhabitants of Metropolis, at first influenced by the same rumours, followed the same measures, shut the gates and manned their walls. But when they were made acquainted with the fate of the city of Gomphi by some prisoners, whom Caesar had ordered to be brought up to the walls, they threw open their gates. As he preserved them with the greatest care, there was not a state in Thessaly (except Larissa, which was awed by a strong army of Scipio's), but on comparing the fate of the inhabitants of Metropolis with the severe treatment of Gomphi, gave admission to Caesar, and obeyed his orders. Having chosen a position convenient for procuring corn, which was now almost ripe on the ground, he determined there to wait Pompey's arrival, and to make it the centre of all his warlike operations. LXXXII.--Pompey arrived in Thessaly a few days after, and having harangued the combined army, returned thanks to his own men, and exhorted Scipio's soldiers, that as the victory was now secured, they should endeavour to merit a part of the rewards and booty. And receiving all the legions into one camp, he shared his honours with Scipio, ordered the trumpet to be sounded at his tent, and a pavilion to be erected for him. The forces of Pompey being thus augmented, and two such powerful armies united, their former expectations were confirmed, and their hopes of victory so much increased, that whatever time intervened was considered as so much delay to their return into Italy: and whenever Pompey acted with slowness and caution, they used to exclaim, that it was the business only of a single day, but that he had a passion for power, and was delighted in having persons of consular and praetorian rank in the number of his slaves. And they now began to dispute openly about rewards and priesthoods, and disposed of the consulate for several years to come. Others put in their claims for the houses and properties of all who were in Caesar's camp, and in that council there was a warm debate, whether Lucius Hirrus, who had been sent by Pompey against the Parthians, should be admitted a candidate for the praetorship in his absence at the next election; his friends imploring Pompey's honour to fulfil the engagements which he had made to him at his departure, that he might not seem deceived through his authority: whilst others, embarked in equal labour and danger, pleaded that no individual ought to have a preference before all the rest. LXXXIII.--Already Domitius, Scipio, and Lentulus Spinthur, in their daily quarrels about Caesar's priesthood, openly abused each other in the most scurrilous language. Lentulus urging the respect due to his age, Domitius boasting his interest in the city and his dignity, and Scipio presuming on his alliance with Pompey. Attius Rufus charged Lucius Afranius before Pompey with betraying the army in the action that happened in Spain, and Lucius Domitius declared in the council that it was his wish that, when the war should be ended, three billets should be given to all the senators who had taken part with them in the war, and that they should pass sentence on every single person who had stayed behind at Rome, or who had been within Pompey's garrisons and had not contributed their assistance in the military operations; that by the first billet they should-have power to acquit, by the second to pass sentence of death, and by the third to impose a pecuniary fine. In short, Pompey's whole army talked of nothing but the honours or sums of money which were to be their rewards, or of vengeance on their enemies; and never considered how they were to defeat their enemies, but in what manner they should use their victory. LXXXIV.--Corn being provided, and his soldiers refreshed, and a sufficient time having elapsed since the engagement at Dyrrachium, when Caesar thought he had sufficiently sounded the disposition of his troops, he thought that he ought to try whether Pompey had any intention or inclination to come to a battle. Accordingly he led his troops out of the camp, and ranged them in order of battle, at first on their own ground, and at a small distance from Pompey's camp: but afterwards for several days in succession he advanced from his own camp, and led them up to the hills on which Pompey's troops were posted, which conduct inspired his army every day with fresh courage. However he adhered to his former purpose respecting his cavalry, for as he was by many degrees inferior in number, he selected the youngest and most active of the advanced guard, and desired them to fight intermixed with the horse, and they by constant practice acquired experience in this kind of battle. By these means it was brought to pass that a thousand of his horse would dare, even on open ground, to stand against seven thousand of Pompey's, if occasion required, and would not be much terrified by their number. For even on one of those days he was successful in a cavalry action, and killed one of the two Allobrogians who had deserted to Pompey, as we before observed, and several others. LXXXV.--Pompey, because he was encamped on a hill, drew up his army at the very foot of it, ever in expectation, as may be conjectured, that Caesar would expose himself to this disadvantageous situation. Caesar, seeing no likelihood of being able to bring Pompey to an action, judged it the most expedient method of conducting the war, to decamp from that post, and to be always in motion: with this hope, that by shifting his camp and removing from place to place, he might be more conveniently supplied with corn, and also, that by being in motion he might get some opportunity of forcing them to battle, and might by constant marches harass Pompey's army, which was not accustomed to fatigue. These matters being settled, when the signal for marching was given, and the tents struck, it was observed that shortly before, contrary to his daily practice, Pompey's army had advanced farther than usual from his entrenchments, so that it appeared possible to come to an action on equal ground. Then Caesar addressed himself to his soldiers, when they were at the gates of the camp, ready to march out. "We must defer," says he, "our march at present, and set our thoughts on battle, which has been our constant wish; let us then meet the foe with resolute souls. We shall not hereafter easily find such an opportunity." He immediately marched out at the head of his troops. LXXXVI.--Pompey also, as was afterward known, at the unanimous solicitation of his friends, had determined to try the fate of a battle. For he had even declared in council a few days before that, before the battalions came to battle, Caesar's army would be put to the rout. When most people expressed their surprise at it, "I know," says he, "that I promise a thing almost incredible; but hear the plan on which I proceed, that you may march to battle with more confidence and resolution. I have persuaded our cavalry, and they have engaged to execute it, as soon as the two armies have met, to attack Caesar's right wing on the flank, and enclosing their army on the rear, throw them into disorder, and put them to the rout, before we shall throw a weapon against the enemy. By this means we shall put an end to the war, without endangering the legions, and almost without a blow. Nor is this a difficult matter, as we far outnumber them in cavalry." At the same time he gave them notice to be ready for battle on the day following, and since the opportunity which they had so often wished for was now arrived, not to disappoint the opinion generally entertained of their experience and valour. LXXXVII.--After him Labienus spoke, as well to express his contempt of Caesar's forces, as to extol Pompey's scheme with the highest encomiums. "Think not, Pompey," says he, "that this is the army which conquered Gaul and Germany; I was present at all those battles and do not speak at random on a subject to which I am a stranger: a very small part of that army now remains, great numbers lost their lives, as must necessarily happen in so many battles, many fell victims to the autumnal pestilence in Italy, many returned home, and many were left behind on the continent. Have you not heard that the cohorts at Brundisium are composed of invalids? The forces which you now behold, have been recruited by levies lately made in Hither Spain, and the greater part from the colonies beyond the Po; moreover, the flower of the forces perished in the two engagements at Dyrrachium." Having so said, he took an oath, never to return to his camp unless victorious; and he encouraged the rest to do the like. Pompey applauded his proposal, and took the same oath; nor did any person present hesitate to take it. After this had passed in the council they broke up full of hopes and joy, and in imagination anticipated victory; because they thought that in a matter of such importance, no groundless assertion could be made by a general of such experience. LXXXVIII.--When Caesar had approached near Pompey's camp, he observed that his army was drawn up in the following manner:--On the left wing were the two legions delivered over by Caesar at the beginning of the disputes in compliance with the senate's decree, one of which was called the first, the other the third. Here Pompey commanded in person. Scipio with the Syrian legions commanded the centre. The Cilician legion in conjunction with the Spanish cohorts, which we said were brought over by Afranius, were disposed on the right wing. These Pompey considered his steadiest troops. The rest he had interspersed between the centre and the wing, and he had a hundred and ten complete cohorts; these amounted to forty-five thousand men. He had besides two cohorts of volunteers, who having received favours from him in former wars, flocked to his standard: these were dispersed through his whole army. The seven remaining cohorts he had disposed to protect his camp, and the neighbouring forts. His right wing was secured by a river with steep banks; for which reason he placed all his cavalry, archers, and slingers, on his left wing. LXXXIX.--Caesar, observing his former custom, had placed the tenth legion on the right, the ninth on the left, although it was very much weakened by the battles at Dyrrachium. He placed the eighth legion so close to the ninth, as to almost make one of the two, and ordered them to support one another. He drew up on the field eighty cohorts, making a total of twenty-two thousand men. He left two cohorts to guard the camp. He gave the command of the left wing to Antonius, of the right to P. Sulla, and of the centre to Cn. Domitius: he himself took his post opposite Pompey. At the same time, fearing, from the disposition of the enemy which we have previously mentioned, lest his right wing might be surrounded by their numerous cavalry, he rapidly drafted a single cohort from each of the legions composing the third line, formed of them a fourth line, and opposed them to Pompey's cavalry, and, acquainting them with his wishes, admonished them that the success of that day depended on their courage. At the same time he ordered the third line, and the entire army not to charge without his command: that he would give the signal whenever he wished them to do so. XC.--When he was exhorting his army to battle, according to the military custom, and spoke to them of the favours that they had constantly received from him, he took especial care to remind them "that he could call his soldiers to witness the earnestness with which he had sought peace, the efforts that he had made by Vatinius to gain a conference [with Labienus], and likewise by Claudius to treat with Scipio, in what manner he had exerted himself at Oricum, to gain permission from Libo to send ambassadors; that he had been always reluctant to shed the blood of his soldiers, and did not wish to deprive the republic of one or other of her armies." After delivering this speech, he gave by a trumpet the signal to his soldiers, who were eagerly demanding it, and were very impatient for the onset. XCI.--There was in Caesar's army a volunteer of the name of Crastinus, who the year before had been first centurion of the tenth legion, a man of pre-eminent bravery. He, when the signal was given, says, "Follow me, my old comrades, and display such exertions in behalf of your general as you have determined to do: this is our last battle, and when it shall be won, he will recover his dignity, and we our liberty." At the same time he looked back to Caesar, and said, "General, I will act in such a manner to-day, that you will feel grateful to me living or dead." After uttering these words he charged first on the right wing, and about one hundred and twenty chosen volunteers of the same century followed. XCII.--There was so much space left between the two lines, as sufficed for the onset of the hostile armies: but Pompey had ordered his soldiers to await Caesar's attack, and not to advance from their position, or suffer their line to be put into disorder. And he is said to have done this by the advice of Caius Triarius, that the impetuosity of the charge of Caesar's soldiers might be checked, and their line broken, and that Pompey's troops remaining in their ranks, might attack them while in disorder; and he thought that the javelins would fall with less force if the soldiers were kept in their ground, than if they met them in their course; at the same time he trusted that Caesar's soldiers, after running over double the usual ground, would become weary and exhausted by the fatigue. But to me Pompey seems to have acted without sufficient reason: for there is a certain impetuosity of spirit and an alacrity implanted by nature in the hearts of all men, which is inflamed by a desire to meet the foe. This a general should endeavour not to repress, but to increase; nor was it a vain institution of our ancestors, that the trumpets should sound on all sides, and a general shout be raised; by which they imagined that the enemy were struck with terror, and their own army inspired with courage. XCIII.--But our men, when the signal was given, rushed forward with their javelins ready to be launched, but perceiving that Pompey's men did not run to meet their charge, having acquired experience by custom, and being practised in former battles, they of their own accord repressed their speed, and halted almost midway, that they might not come up with the enemy when their strength was exhausted, and after a short respite they again renewed their course, and threw their javelins, and instantly drew their swords, as Caesar had ordered them. Nor did Pompey's men fail in this crisis, for they received our javelins, stood our charge, and maintained their ranks: and having launched their javelins, had recourse to their swords. At the same time Pompey's horse, according to their orders, rushed out at once from his left wing, and his whole host of archers poured after them. Our cavalry did not withstand their charge: but gave ground a little, upon which Pompey's horse pressed them more vigorously, and began to file off in troops, and flank our army. When Caesar perceived this, he gave the signal to his fourth line, which he had formed of the six cohorts. They instantly rushed forward and charged Pompey's horse with such fury, that not a man of them stood; but all wheeling about, not only quitted their post, but galloped forward to seek a refuge in the highest mountains. By their retreat the archers and slingers, being left destitute and defenceless, were all cut to pieces. The cohorts, pursuing their success, wheeled about upon Pompey's left wing, whilst his infantry still continued to make battle, and attacked them in the rear. XCIV.--At the same time Caesar ordered his third line to advance, which till then had not been engaged, but had kept their post. Thus, new and fresh troops having come to the assistance of the fatigued, and others having made an attack on their rear, Pompey's men were not able to maintain their ground, but all fled, nor was Caesar deceived in his opinion that the victory, as he had declared in his speech to his soldiers, must have its beginning from those six cohorts which he had placed as a fourth line to oppose the horse. For by them the cavalry were routed; by them the archers and slingers were cut to pieces; by them the left wing of Pompey's army was surrounded, and obliged to be the first to flee. But when Pompey saw his cavalry routed, and that part of his army on which he reposed his greatest hopes thrown into confusion, despairing of the rest, he quitted the field, and retreated straightway on horseback to his camp, and calling to the centurions, whom he had placed to guard the praetorian gate, with a loud voice, that the soldiers might hear: "Secure the camp," says he, "defend it with diligence, if any danger should threaten it; I will visit the other gates, and encourage the guards of the camp." Having thus said, he retired into his tent in utter despair, yet anxiously waiting the issue. XCV.--Caesar having forced the Pompeians to flee into their entrenchment, and thinking that he ought not to allow them any respite to recover from their fright, exhorted his soldiers to take advantage of fortune's kindness, and to attack the camp. Though they were fatigued by the intense heat, for the battle had continued till mid-day, yet, being prepared to undergo any labour, they cheerfully obeyed his command. The camp was bravely defended by the cohorts which had been left to guard it, but with much more spirit by the Thracians and foreign auxiliaries. For the soldiers who had fled for refuge to it from the field of battle, affrighted and exhausted by fatigue, having thrown away their arms and military standards, had their thoughts more engaged on their further escape than on the defence of the camp. Nor could the troops who were posted on the battlements long withstand the immense number of our darts, but fainting under their wounds, quitted the place, and under the conduct of their centurions and tribunes, fled, without stopping, to the high mountains which joined the camp. XCVI.--In Pompey's camp you might see arbours in which tables were laid, a large quantity of plate set out, the floors of the tents covered with fresh sods, the tents of Lucius Lentulus and others shaded with ivy, and many other things which were proofs of excessive luxury, and a confidence of victory, so that it might readily be inferred that they had no apprehensions of the issue of the day, as they indulged themselves in unnecessary pleasures, and yet upbraided with luxury Caesar's army, distressed and suffering troops, who had always been in want of common necessaries. Pompey, as soon as our men had forced the trenches, mounting his horse, and stripping off his general's habit, went hastily out of the back gate of the camp, and galloped with all speed to Larissa. Nor did he stop there, but with the same despatch collecting a few of his flying troops, and halting neither day nor night, he arrived at the sea-side, attended by only thirty horse, and went on board a victualling barque, often complaining, as we have been told, that he had been so deceived in his expectation, that he was almost persuaded that he had been betrayed by those from whom he had expected victory, as they began the flight. XCVII.--Caesar having possessed himself of Pompey's camp, urged his soldiers not to be too intent on plunder, and lose the opportunity of completing their conquest. Having obtained their consent, he began to draw lines round the mountain. The Pompeians distrusting the position, as there was no water on the mountain, abandoned it, and all began to retreat towards Larissa; which Caesar perceiving, divided his troops, and ordering part of his legions to remain in Pompey's camp, sent back a part to his own camp, and taking four legions with him, went by a shorter road to intercept the enemy: and having marched six miles, drew up his army. But the Pompeians observing this, took post on a mountain whose foot was washed by a river. Caesar having encouraged his troops, though they were greatly exhausted by incessant labour the whole day, and night was now approaching, by throwing up works cut off the communication between the river and the mountain, that the enemy might not get water in the night. As soon as the work was finished, they sent ambassadors to treat about a capitulation. A few senators who had espoused that party, made their escape by night. XCVIII.--At break of day, Caesar ordered all those who had taken post on the mountain, to come down from the higher grounds into the plain, and pile their arms. When they did this without refusal, and with outstretched arms, prostrating themselves on the ground, with tears, implored his mercy: he comforted them and bade them rise, and having spoken a few words of his own clemency to alleviate their fears, he pardoned them all, and gave orders to his soldiers that no injury should be done to them, and nothing taken from them. Having used this diligence, he ordered the legions in his camp to come and meet him, and those which were, with him to take their turn of rest, and go back to the camp; and the same day went to Larissa. XCIX.--In that battle, no more than two hundred privates were missing, but Caesar lost about thirty centurions, valiant officers. Crastinus, also, of whom mention was made before, fighting most courageously, lost his life by the wound of a sword in the mouth; nor was that false which he declared when marching to battle: for Caesar entertained the highest opinion of his behaviour in that battle, and thought him highly deserving of his approbation. Of Pompey's army, there fell about fifteen thousand; but upwards of twenty-four thousand were made prisoners: for even the cohorts which were stationed in the forts, surrendered to Sylla. Several others took shelter in the neighbouring states. One hundred and eighty stands of colours, and nine eagles, were brought to Caesar. Lucius Domitius, fleeing from the camp to the mountains, his strength being exhausted by fatigue, was killed by the horse. C.--About this time, Decimus Laelius arrived with his fleet at Brundisium and in the same manner as Libo had done before, possessed himself of an island opposite the harbour of Brundisium. In like manner, Valimus, who was then governor of Brundisium, with a few decked barques, endeavoured to entice Laelius's fleet, and took one five-benched galley and two smaller vessels that had ventured farther than the rest into a narrow part of the harbour: and likewise disposing the horse along the shore, strove to prevent the enemy from procuring fresh water. But Laelius having chosen a more convenient season of the year for his expedition, supplied himself with water brought in transports from Corcyra and Dyrrachium, and was not deterred from his purpose; and till he had received advice of the battle in Thessaly, he could not be forced either by the disgrace of losing his ships, or by the want of necessaries, to quit the port and islands. CI.--Much about the same time, Cassius arrived in Sicily with a fleet of Syrians, Phoenicians, and Cilicians: and as Caesar's fleet was divided into two parts, Publius Sulpicius the praetor commanding one division at Vibo near the straits, Pomponius the other at Messana, Cassius got into Messana with his fleet before Pomponius had notice of his arrival, and having found him in disorder, without guards or discipline, and the wind being high and favourable, he filled several transports with fir, pitch, and tow, and other combustibles, and sent them against Pomponius's fleet, and set fire to all his ships, thirty-five in number, twenty of which were armed with beaks: and this action struck such terror, that though there was a legion in garrison at Messana, the town with difficulty held out, and had not the news of Caesar's victory been brought at that instant by the horse stationed along the coast, it was generally imagined that it would have been lost, but the town was maintained till the news arrived very opportunely; and Cassius set sail from thence to attack Sulpicius's fleet at Vibo, and our ships being moored to the land, to strike the same terror, he acted in the same manner as before. The wind being favourable, he sent into the port about forty ships provided with combustibles, and the flame catching on both sides, five ships were burnt to ashes. And when the fire began to spread wider by the violence of the wind, the soldiers of the veteran legions, who had been left to guard the fleet, being considered as invalids, could not endure the disgrace, but of themselves went on board the ships and weighed anchor, and having attacked Cassius's fleet, captured two five-banked galleys, in one of which was Cassius himself; but he made his escape by taking to a boat. Two three-banked galleys were taken besides. Intelligence was shortly after received of the action in Thessaly, so well authenticated, that the Pompeians themselves gave credit to it; for they had hitherto believed it a fiction of Caesar's lieutenants and friends. Upon which intelligence Cassius departed with his fleet from that coast. CII.--Caesar thought he ought to postpone all business and pursue Pompey, whithersoever he should retreat; that he might not be able to provide fresh forces, and renew the war; he therefore marched on every day, as far as his cavalry were able to advance, and ordered one legion to follow him by shorter journeys. A proclamation was issued by Pompey at Amphipolis, that all the young men of that province, Grecians and Roman citizens, should take the military oath; but whether he issued it with an intention of preventing suspicion, and to conceal as long as possible his design of fleeing farther, or to endeavour to keep possession of Macedonia by new levies, if nobody pursued him, it is impossible to judge. He lay at anchor one night, and calling together his friends in Amphipolis, and collecting a sum of money for his necessary expenses, upon advice of Caesar's approach, set sail from that place, and arrived in a few days at Mitylene. Here he was detained two days, and having added a few galleys to his fleet he went to Cilicia, and thence to Cyprus. There he is informed that, by the consent of all the inhabitants of Antioch and Roman citizens who traded there, the castle had been seized to shut him out of the town; and that messengers had been despatched to all those who were reported to have taken refuge in the neighbouring states, that they should not come to Antioch; that if they did that, it would be attended with imminent danger to their lives. The same thing had happened to Lucius Lentulus, who had been consul the year before, and to Publius Lentulus a consular senator, and to several others at Rhodes, who having followed Pompey in his flight, and arrived at the island, were not admitted into the town or port; and having received a message to leave that neighbourhood, set sail much against their will; for the rumour of Caesar's approach had now reached those states. CIII.--Pompey, being informed of these proceedings, laid aside his design of going to Syria, and having taken the public money from the farmers of the revenue, and borrowed more from some private friends, and having put on board his ships a large quantity of brass for military purposes, and two thousand armed men, whom he partly selected from the slaves of the tax farmers, and partly collected from the merchants, and such persons as each of his friends thought fit on this occasion, he sailed for Pelusium. It happened that king Ptolemy, a minor, was there with a considerable army, engaged in war with his sister Cleopatra, whom a few months before, by the assistance of his relations and friends, he had expelled from the kingdom; and her camp lay at a small distance from his. To him Pompey applied to be permitted to take refuge in Alexandria, and to be protected in his calamity by his powerful assistance, in consideration of the friendship and amity which had subsisted between his father and him. But Pompey's deputies having executed their commission, began to converse with less restraint with the king's troops, and to advise them to act with friendship to Pompey, and not to think meanly of his bad fortune. In Ptolemy's army were several of Pompey's soldiers, of whom Gabinius had received the command in Syria, and had brought them over to Alexandria, and at the conclusion of the war had left with Ptolemy the father of the young king. CIV.--The king's friends, who were regents of the kingdom during the minority, being informed of these things, either induced by fear, as they afterwards declared, lest Pompey should corrupt the king's army, and seize on Alexandria and Egypt; or despising his bad fortune, as in adversity friends commonly change to enemies, in public gave a favourable answer to his deputies, and desired him to come to the king; but secretly laid a plot against him, and despatched Achillas, captain of the king's guards, a man of singular boldness, and Lucius Septimius a military tribune to assassinate him. Being kindly addressed by them, and deluded by an acquaintance with Septimius, because in the war with the pirates the latter had commanded a company under him, he embarked in a small boat with a few attendants, and was there murdered by Achillas and Septimius. In like manner, Lucius Lentulus was seized by the king's order, and put to death in prison. CV.--When Caesar arrived in Asia, he found that Titus Ampius had attempted to remove the money from the temple of Diana at Ephesus; and for this purpose had convened all the senators in the province that he might have them to attest the sum, but was interrupted by Caesar's arrival, and had made his escape. Thus, on two occasions, Caesar saved the money of Ephesus. It was also remarked at Elis, in the temple of Minerva, upon calculating and enumerating the days, that on the very day on which Caesar had gained his battle, the image of Victory which was placed before Minerva, and faced her statue, turned about towards the portal and entrance of the temple; and the same day, at Antioch in Syria, such a shout of an army and sound of trumpets was twice heard, that the citizens ran in arms to the walls. The same thing happened at Ptolemais; a sound of drums too was heard at Pergamus, in the private and retired parts of the temple, into which none but the priests are allowed admission, and which the Greeks call Adyta (the inaccessible), and likewise at Tralles, in the temple of Victory, in which there stood a statue consecrated to Caesar; a palm-tree at that time was shown that had sprouted up from the pavement, through the joints of the stones, and shot up above the roof. CVI.--After a few days' delay in Asia, Caesar, having heard that Pompey had been seen in Cyprus, and conjecturing that he had directed his course into Egypt, on account of his connection with that kingdom, set out for Alexandria with two legions (one of which he ordered to follow him from Thessaly, the other he called in from Achaia, from Fufius, the lieutenant-general) and with eight hundred horse, ten ships of war from Rhodes, and a few from Asia. These legions amounted but to three thousand two hundred men; the rest, disabled by wounds received in various battles, by fatigue and the length of their march, could not follow him. But Caesar, relying on the fame of his exploits; did not hesitate to set forward with a feeble force, and thought that he would be secure in any place. At Alexandria he was informed of the death of Pompey: and at his landing there, heard a cry among the soldiers whom the king had left to garrison the town, and saw a crowd gathering towards him, because the fasces were carried before him; for this the whole multitude thought an infringement of the king's dignity. Though this tumult was appeased, frequent disturbances were raised for several days successively, by crowds of the populace, and a great many of his soldiers were killed in all parts of the city. CVIL--Having observed this, he ordered other legions to be brought to him from Asia, which he had made up out of Pompey's soldiers; for he was himself detained against his will, by the etesian winds, which are totally unfavourable to persons on a voyage from Alexandria. In the meantime, considering that the disputes of the princes belonged to the jurisdiction of the Roman people, and of him as consul, and that it was a duty more incumbent on him, as in his former consulate a league had been made with Ptolemy the late king, under sanction both of a law, and a decree of the senate, he signified that it was his pleasure, that king Ptolemy, and his sister Cleopatra, should disband their armies, and decide their disputes in his presence by justice, rather than by the sword. CVIII.--A eunuch named Pothinus, the boy's tutor, was regent of the kingdom on account of his youthfulness. He at first began to complain amongst his friends, and to express his indignation, that the king should be summoned to plead his cause: but afterwards, having prevailed on some of those whom he had made acquainted with his views to join him, he secretly called the army away from Pelusium to Alexandria, and appointed Achillas, already spoken of, commander-in-chief of the forces. Him he encouraged and animated by promises both in his own and the king's name, and instructed him both by letters and messages how he should act. By the will of Ptolemy the father, the elder of his two sons and the more advanced in years of his two daughters were declared his heirs, and for the more effectual performance of his intention, in the same will he conjured the Roman people by all the gods, and by the league which he had entered into at Rome, to see his will executed. One of the copies of his will was conveyed to Rome by his ambassadors to be deposited in the treasury, but the public troubles preventing it, it was lodged with Pompey: another was left sealed up, and kept at Alexandria. CIX.--Whilst these things were debated before Caesar, and he was very anxious to settle the royal disputes as a common friend and arbitrator; news was brought on a sudden that the king's army and all his cavalry were on their march to Alexandria. Caesar's forces were by no means so strong that he could trust to them, if he had occasion to hazard a battle without the town. His only resource was to keep within the town in the most convenient places, and get information of Achillas's designs. However he ordered his soldiers to repair to their arms; and advised the king to send some of his friends, who had the greatest influence, as deputies to Achillas and to signify his royal pleasure. Dioscorides and Serapion, the persons sent by him, who had both been ambassadors at Rome, and had been in great esteem with Ptolemy the father, went to Achillas. But as soon as they appeared in his presence, without hearing them, or learning the occasion of their coming, he ordered them to be seized and put to death. One of them, after receiving a wound, was taken up and carried off by his attendants as dead: the other was killed on the spot. Upon this, Caesar took care to secure the king's person, both supposing that the king's name would have great influence with his subjects, and to give the war the appearance of the scheme of a few desperate men, rather than of having been begun by the king's consent. CX.--The forces under Achillas did not seem despicable, either for number, spirit, or military experience; for he had twenty thousand men under arms. They consisted partly of Gabinius's soldiers, who were now become habituated to the licentious mode of living at Alexandria, and had forgotten the name and discipline of the Roman people, and had married wives there, by whom the greatest part of them had children. To these was added a collection of highwaymen and free-booters, from Syria, and the province of Cilicia, and the adjacent countries. Besides several convicts and transports had been collected: for at Alexandria all our runaway slaves were sure of finding protection for their persons on the condition that they should give in their names, and enlist as soldiers: and if any of them was apprehended by his master, he was rescued by a crowd of his fellow soldiers, who being involved in the same guilt, repelled, at the hazard of their lives, every violence offered to any of their body. These by a prescriptive privilege of the Alexandrian army, used to demand the king's favourites to be put to death, pillage the properties of the rich to increase their pay, invest the king's palace, banish some from the kingdom, and recall others from exile. Besides these, there were two thousand horse, who had acquired the skill of veterans by being in several wars in Alexandria. These had restored Ptolemy the father to his kingdom, had killed Bibulus's two sons; and had been engaged in war with the Egyptians; such was their experience in military affairs. CXI.--Full of confidence in his troops, and despising the small number of Caesar's soldiers, Achillas seized Alexandria, except that part of the town which Caesar occupied with his troops. At first he attempted to force the palace; but Caesar had disposed his cohorts through the streets, and repelled his attack. At the same time there was an action at the port: where the contest was maintained with the greatest obstinacy. For the forces were divided, and the fight maintained in several streets at once, and the enemy endeavoured to seize with a strong party the ships of war; of which fifty had been sent to Pompey's assistance, but after the battle in Thessaly had returned home. They were all of either three or five banks of oars, well equipped and appointed with every necessary for a voyage. Besides these, there were twenty-two vessels with decks, which were usually kept at Alexandria, to guard the port. If they made themselves masters of these, Caesar being deprived of his fleet, they would have the command of the port and whole sea, and could prevent him from procuring provisions and auxiliaries. Accordingly that spirit was displayed, which ought to be displayed when the one party saw that a speedy victory depended on the issue, and the other their safety. But Caesar gained the day, and set fire to all those ships, and to others which were in the docks, because he could not guard so many places with so small a force; and immediately he conveyed some troops to the Pharos by his ships. CXIL--The Pharos is a tower on an island, of prodigious height, built with amazing works, and takes its name from the island. This island lying over against Alexandria forms a harbour; but on the upper side it is connected with the town by a narrow way eight hundred paces in length, made by piles sunk in the sea, and by a bridge. In this island some of the Egyptians have houses, and a village as large as a town; and whatever ships from any quarter, either through mistaking the channel, or by the storm, have been driven from their course upon the coast, they constantly plunder like pirates. And without the consent of those who are masters of the Pharos, no vessels can enter the harbour, on account of its narrowness. Caesar being greatly alarmed on this account, whilst the enemy were engaged in battle, landed his soldiers, seized the Pharos, and placed a garrison in it. By this means he gained this point, that he could be supplied without danger with corn and auxiliaries: for he sent to all the neighbouring countries, to demand supplies. In other parts of the town, they fought so obstinately, that they quitted the field with equal advantage, and neither were beaten (in consequence of the narrowness of the passes); and a few being killed on both sides, Caesar secured the most necessary posts, and fortified them in the night. In this quarter of the town was a wing of the king's palace, in which Caesar was lodged on his first arrival, and a theatre adjoining the house which served as for citadel, and commanded an avenue to the port and other docks. These fortifications he increased during the succeeding days, that he might have them before him as a rampart, and not be obliged to fight against his will. In the meantime Ptolemy's younger daughter, hoping the throne would become vacant, made her escape from the palace to Achillas, and assisted him in prosecuting the war. But they soon quarrelled about the command, which circumstance enlarged the presents to the soldiers, for each endeavoured by great sacrifices to secure their affection. Whilst the enemy was thus employed, Pothinus, tutor to the young king, and regent of the kingdom, who was in Caesar's part of the town, sent messengers to Achillas, and encouraged him not to desist from his enterprise, nor to despair of success; but his messengers being discovered and apprehended, he was put to death by Caesar. Such was the commencement of the Alexandrian war. * * * * * INDEX N.B. The numerals refer to the book, the figures to the chapter. G. stands for the Gallic War, C. for the Civil. Acarn[=a]n[)i]a, a region of Greece, _Carnia_ Acco, prince of the Sen[)o]nes, his conduct on Caesar's approach, G. vi. 4; condemned in a council of the Gauls, vi. 44 Achaia, sometimes taken for all Greece, but most commonly for a part of it only; in Peloponnesus, _Romania alta_ Achillas, captain of Ptolemy's guards, sent to kill Pompey, C. iii. 104; appointed by Pothinus commander of all the Egyptian forces, _ibid_. 108; heads an army of twenty thousand veteran troops, _ibid_. 110 Acilla, or Achilla, or Acholla. There were two cities in Africa of this name, one inland, the other on the coast. The modern name of the latter is _Elalia_ Acilius, Caesar's lieutenant, C. iii. 15 Act[)i]um, a promontory of Epirus, now called the _Cape of Tigalo_, famous for a naval victory gained near it, by Augustus, over M. Antony Act[)i]us, a Pelignian, one of Pompey's followers, taken by Caesar, and dismissed in safety, C. i. 18 Act[)i]us Rufus accuses L. Apanius of treachery, C. iii. 83 Act[)i]us Varus prevents Tubero from landing in Africa, C. i. 31; his forces, C. ii. 23; his camp, _ibid_. 25; engages Curio, _ibid_. 34; his danger, defeat, and stratagem, _ibid_. 35 Adcant[)u]annus sallies upon Crassus at the head of a chosen body of troops, G. iii. 22 Add[)u]a, the _Adda_, a river that rises in the Alps, and, separating the duchy of Milan from the state of Venice, falls into the Po above Cremona Adriatic Sea, the _Gulf of Venice_, at the extremity of which that city is situated Adrum[=e]tum, a town in Africa, _Mahometta_; held by Considius Longus with a garrison of one legion, C. ii. 23 Aduat[)u]uci (in some editions Atuatici), descendants of the Teutones and Cimbri, G. ii. 29; they furnish twenty-nine thousand men to the general confederacy of Gaul, _ibid_. 4; Caesar obliges them to submit, _ibid_. 29 Aed[)u]i, the _Autunois_, a people of Gaul, near _Autun_, in the country now called _Lower Burgundy_; they complain to Caesar of the ravages committed in their territories by the Helvetii, G. i. 11; join in a petition against Ariovistus, _ibid_. 33; at the head of one of the two leading factions of Gaul, G. vi. 12; Caesar quiets an intestine commotion among them, C. vii. 33; they revolt from the Romans, G. vii. 54; their law concerning magistrates, _ibid_. 33; their clients, i. 31; vii. 75 Aeg[=e]an Sea, the _Archipelago_, a part of the Mediterranean which lies between Greece, Asia Minor, and the Isle of Crete Aeg[=i]n[)i]um, a town of Thessaly; Domitius joins Caesar near that place, C. iii. 79 Aegus and Roscillus, their perfidious behaviour towards Caesar, C. iii. 59, 60 Aegyptus, _Egypt,_ an extensive country of Africa, bounded on the west by part of Marmarica and the deserts of Lybia, on the north by the Mediterranean, on the east by the Sinus Arabicus, and a line drawn from Arsino[)e] to Rhinocolura, and on the south by Aethiopia. Egypt, properly so called, may be described as consisting of the long and narrow valley which follows the course of the Nile from Syene (_Assooan_) to _Cairo,_ near the site of the ancient Memphis. The name by which this country is known to Europeans comes from the Greeks, some of whose writers inform us that it received this appellation from Aegyptus, son of Belus, it having been previously called Aeria. In the Hebrew scriptures it is called Mitsraim, and also Matsor and Harets Cham; of these names, however, the first is the one most commonly employed Aemilia Via, a Roman road in Italy, from Rimini to Aquileia, and from Pisa to Dertona Aet[=o]lia, a country of Greece, _Despotato;_ recovered from Pompey by the partisans of Caesar, C. iii. 35 Afr[=a]nius, Pompey's lieutenant, his exploits in conjunction with Petreius, C. i. 38; resolves to carry the war into Celtiberia, _ibid_. 61; surrenders to Caesar, _ibid_. 84 Afr[)i]ca, one of the four great continents into which the earth is divided; the name seems to have been originally applied by the Romans to the country around Carthage, the first part of the continent with which they became acquainted, and is said to have been derived from a small Carthaginian district on the northern coast, called _Frigi._ Hence, even when the name had become applied to the whole continent, there still remained in Roman geography the district of Africa Proper, on the Mediterranean coast, corresponding to the modem kingdom of _Tunis,_ with part of that of _Tripoli_ Agend[)i]cum, a city of the Senones, _Sens_; Caesar quarters four legions there, G. vi. 44; Labienus leaves his baggage in it under a guard of new levies, and sets out for Lutetia, G. vii. 57 Alba, a town of Latium, in Italy, _Albano_; Domitius levies troops in that neighbourhood, C. i. 15 Alb[=i]ci, a people of Gaul, unknown; some make them the same with the _Vivarois_; taken into the service of the Marseillians, C. i. 34 Albis, the _Elbe,_ a large and noble river in Germany, which has its source in the Giant's Mountains in Silesia, on the confines of Bohemia, and passing through Bohemia, Upper and Lower Saxony, falls into the North Sea at Ritzbuttel, about sixty miles below Hamburg Alces, a species of animals somewhat resembling an elk, to be found in the Hercynian forests, C. vi. 27 Alemanni, or Alamanni, a name assumed by a confederacy of German tribes, situated between the Neckar and the Upper Rhine, who united to resist the encroachments of the Roman power. According to Mannert, they derived their origin from the shattered remains of the army of Ariovistus retired, after the defeat and death of their leader, to the mountainous country of the Upper Rhine. After their overthrow by Clovis, king of the Salian Franks, they ceased to exist as one nation, and were dispersed over Gaul, Switzerland, and Nether Italy. From them L'Allemagne, the French name for Germany, is derived Alemannia, the country inhabited by the Alemanni Alesia, or Alexia, a town of the Mandubians, _Alise_; Caesar shuts up Vercingetorix there, C. vii. 68; surrounds it with lines of circumvallation and contravallation, _ibid_. 69, 72; obliges it to surrender, _ibid_. 89 Alexandr[=i]a, a city of Egypt, _Scanderia_. It was built by Alexander the Great, 330 years before Christ; Caesar pursues Pompey thither, C. iii. 106 Aliso, by some supposed to be the town now called _Iselburg_; or, according to Junius, _Wesel_, in the duchy of Cleves, but more probably _Elsen_ Allier (El[=a]ver), Caesar eludes the vigilance of Vercingetorix, and by an artifice passes that river, G. vii. 35 All[)o]br[)o]ges, an ancient people of Gallia Transalp[=i]na, who inhabited the country which is now called _Dauphiny, Savoy,_ and _Piedmont_. The name, Allobroges, means highlanders, and is derived from Al, "high," and Broga, "land." They are supposed to be disaffected to the Romans, G. i. 6; complain to Caesar of the ravages of the Helvetians, _ibid_. 11 Alps, a ridge of high mountains, which separates France and Germany from Italy. That part of them which separates Dauphiny from Piedmont was called the Cottian Alps. Their name is derived from their height, Alp being an old Celtic appellation for "a lofty mountain"; Caesar crosses them with five legions, G. i. 10; sends Galba to open a free passage over them to the Roman merchants, G. iii. 1 Alsati[)a], a province of Germany, in the upper circle of the Rhine, _Alsace_ Amagetobr[)i]a, a city of Gaul, unknown; famous for a defeat of the Gauls there by Ariovistus, G. i. 31 Amant[)i]a, a town in Macedonia, _Porto Raguseo_; it submits to Caesar, and sends ambassadors to know his pleasure, C. iii. 12 Am[=a]nus, a mountain of Syria, _Alma Daghy,_ near which Scipio sustains some losses, C. iii. 31 Am[=a]ni Pylae, or Am[=a]nicae Portae, _Straits of Scanderona_ Ambarri, a people of Gaul, uncertain; they complain to Caesar of the ravages committed in their territories by the Helvetii, G. i. 11 Ambialites, a people of Gaul, of _Lamballe in Bretagne_. Others take the word to be only a different name for the Ambiani; they join in a confederacy with the Veneti against Caesar, G. iii. 9 Ambi[=a]ni, or Ambianenses, the people of _Amiens;_ they furnish ten thousand men to the general confederacy of the Belgians against Caesar, G. ii. 4; sue for peace, and submit themselves to Caesar's pleasure, G. ii. 15 Ambi[=a]num, a city of Belgium, _Amiens_ Amb[)i]b[)a]ri, a people of Gaul, inhabiting _Ambie_, in Normandy Amb[)i][)o]rix, his artful speech to Sabinus and Cotta, G. v. 27; Caesar marches against him, G. vi. 249. Ravages and lays waste his territories, _ibid_. 34; endeavours in vain to get him into his hands, _ibid_. 43 Ambivar[)e]ti, a people of Gaul, the _Vivarais_. They are ordered to furnish their contingent for raising the siege of Alesia, G. vii. 75 Ambivar[=i]ti, an ancient people of _Brabant_, between the Rhine and the Maese; the German cavalry sent to forage among them, G. iv. 9 Ambr[)a]c[)i]a, a city of Epirus, _Arta_; Cassius directs his march thither, C. iii. 36 Ambrones, an ancient people, who lived in the country which is now called the _Canton of Bern_, in Switzerland Amph[)i]l[)o]chia, a region of Epirus, _Anfilocha_. Its inhabitants reduced by Cassius Longinus, C. iii. 55 Amph[)i]p[)o]lis, a city of Macedonia, _Cristopoli_, or _Emboli_. An edict in Pompey's name published there, C. iii. 102 Anartes, a people of Germany, _Walachians_, _Servians_, or _Bulgarians_, bordering upon the Hercynian Forest, G. vi. 25 Anas, a river of Spain, the _Guadiana_, or _Rio Roydera_, bounding that part of Spain under the government of Petreius, C. i. 38 Anc[)a]l[=i]tes, a people of Britain, of the hundred of _Henley_, in Oxfordshire; they send ambassadors to Caesar with an offer of submission, G. v. 21 Anch[)i][)a]los, a city of Thrace, near the Euxine Sea, now called _Kenkis_ Ancibarii, or Ansivarii, an ancient people of Lower Germany, of and about the town of _Ansestaet_, or _Amslim_ Anc[=o]na, _Ancona_, a city of Italy, on the coast of Pisenum. It is supposed to derive its name from the Greek word [Greek: agkon], an angle or elbow, on account of the angular form of the promontory on which it is built. The foundation of Ancona is ascribed by Strabo to some Syracusans, who were fleeing from the tyranny of Dionysius. Livy speaks of it as a naval station of great importance in the wars of Rome with the Illyrians. We find it occupied by Caesar (C. i. 2) shortly after crossing the Rubicon; Caesar takes possession of it with a garrison of one cohort, C. i. 11 Andes, _Angers_, in France, the capital of the duchy of Anjou Andes, a people of Gaul, the ancient inhabitants of the duchy of Anjou; Caesar puts his troops into winter quarters among them, G. ii. 35 Andomad[=u]num Ling[)o]num, a large and ancient city of Champagne, at the source of the river Marne, _Langres_ Anglesey (Mona), an island situated between Britain and Ireland, where the night, during the winter, is said to be a month long, G. v. 13 Angrivarii, an ancient people of Lower Germany, who dwelt between the Ems and the Weser, below the Lippe Ansivarii, see _Ancibarii_ Antioch[=i]a, _Antachia_, an ancient and famous city, once the capital of Syria, or rather of the East. It is situate on two rivers, the Orontes and the Phaspar, not far from the Mediterranean; refuses to admit the fugitives after the battle of Pharsalia, C. iii. 102 Ant[=o]nius (Mark Antony), Caesar's lieutenant, G. vii. i i; quaestor, G. viii. 2; governor of Brundusium, C. iii. 24; his standing for that priesthood, G. vii. 50; obliges Libo to raise the siege of Brundusium, C. iii. 24; and in conjunction with Kalenus transports Caesar's troops to Greece, _ibid_. 26 Apam[=e]a, _Apami_, a city of Bithynia, built by Nicomedes, the son of Prusias Apennine Mountains, a large chain of mountains, branching off from the Maritime Alps, in the neighbourhood of Genoa, running diagonally from the Ligurian Gulf to the Adriatic, in the vicinity of Ancona; from which it continues nearly parallel with the latter gulf, as far as the promontory of Garg[=a]nus, and again inclines to Mare Inf[)e]rum, till it finally terminates in the promontory of Leucopetra, near Rhegium. The etymology of the name given to these mountains must be traced to the Celtic, and appears to combine two terms of that language nearly synonymous, Alp, or Ap, "a high mountain," and Penn, "a summit" Apoll[=o]n[)i]a, a city of Macedonia, _Piergo_. Pompey resolves to winter there, C. iii. 5; Caesar makes himself master of it, _ibid_. iii. 12 Appia Via, the Appian road which led from Rome to Campania, and from the sea to Brundusium. It was made, as Livy informs us, by the censor, Appius Caecus, A.U.C. 442, and was, in the first instance, only laid down as far as Capua, a distance of about 125 miles. It was subsequently carried on to Beneventum, and finally to Brundusium. According to Eustace (_Classical Tour_, vol. iii.), such parts of the Appian Way as have escaped destruction, as at _Fondi_ and _Mola_, show few traces of wear and decay after a duration of two thousand years Apsus, a river of Macedonia, the _Aspro_. Caesar and Pompey encamp over against each other on the banks of that river, C. iii. 13 Apulia, a region of Italy, _la Puglia_. Pompey quarters there the legions sent by Caesar, C. i. 14 Aquil[=a]ria, a town of Africa, near Clupea. Pompey quarters there the legions sent by Caesar, C. i. 14; Curio arrives there with the troops designed against Africa. C. ii. 23 Aquileia, formerly a famous and considerable city of Italy, not far from the Adriatic, now little more than a heap of ruins, _Aquilegia_. Caesar draws together the troops quartered there, G. i. 10 Aquitania, a third part of ancient Gaul, now containing _Guienne_, _Gascony_, etc. Aquit[=a]ni, the Aquitanians reduced under the power of the Romans by Crassus, G. iii. 20-22; very expert in the art of mining, _ibid_. 21 Arar, or Araris, a river of Gaul, the Sa[^o]ne; the Helvetians receive a considerable check in passing this river, G. i. 12 Arduenna Silva, the forest of _Ardenne_, in France, reaching from the Rhine to the city of Tournay, in the low countries; Indutiom[)a]rus conceals in it the infirm and aged, G. v. 3; Caesar crosses it in quest of Ambiorix, G. vi. 29 Arecomici Volcae, Caesar plants garrisons among them, G. vii. 7 Arel[=a]te, or Arel[=a]tum, or Arelas, a city of Gaul, _Arles_. Caesar orders twelve galleys to be built there, C. i. 36 Ar[)i]m[)i]num, a city of Italy, _Rimini_; Caesar having sounded the disposition of his troops, marches thither, C. i. 8 Ar[)i][)o]vistus, king of the Germans, his tyrannical conduct towards the Gauls, G. i. 31; Caesar sends ambassadors to him demanding an interview, _ibid_. 34; he is defeated and driven entirely out of Gaul, _ibid_. 52 Arles, see _Arelate_ Arm[)e]n[)i]a, a country of Asia, divided into the greater or lesser, and now called _Turcomania_ Armorici, the ancient people of Armorica, a part of Gallia Celtica, now _Bretagne_; they assemble in great numbers to attack L. Roscius in his winter quarters, G. v. 53 Arr[=e]t[)i]um, a city of Etruria, in Italy, _Arezzo_; Antony sent thither with five cohorts, C. i. 10 Arverni, an ancient people of France, on the Loire, whose chief city was Arvernum, now _Clermont_, the capital of _Auvergne_; suddenly invaded, and their territories ravaged by Caesar, G. vii. 8 Asculum, a town of Italy, _Ascoli_; Caesar takes possession of it, C. i. 16 Asparagium, a town in Macedonia, unknown; Pompey encamps near it with all his forces, C. iii. 30 Astigi, or Astingi, a people of Andalusia, in Spain Athens, one of the most ancient and noble cities of Greece, the capital of Attica. It produced some of the most distinguished statesmen, orators, and poets that the world ever saw, and its sculptors and painters have been rarely rivalled, never surpassed. No city on the earth has ever exercised an equal influence on the educated men of all ages. It contributes to fit out a fleet for Pompey, C. iii. 3 Atreb[)a]tes, an ancient people of Gaul, who lived in that part of the Netherlands which is now called _Artois_; they furnish fifteen thousand men to the general confederacy of Gaul, G. ii. 4 Attica, a country of Greece, between Achaia and Macedonia, famous on account of its capital, Athens Attuarii, a people of ancient Germany, who inhabited between the Maese and the Rhine, whose country is now a part of the duchy of _Gueldes_ Atuatuca, a strong castle, where Caesar deposited all his baggage, on setting out in pursuit of Ambiorix, G. vi. 32; the Germans unexpectedly attack it, _ibid_. 35 Augustod[=u]num, _Autun_, a very ancient city of Burgundy, on the river Arroux Aulerci Eburovices, a people of Gaul, in the country of _Evreux_, in Normandy Aulerci Brannovices, a people of Gaul, _Morienne_ Aulerci Cenomanni, a people of Gaul, the country of _Maine_ Aulerci Diablintes, a people of Gaul, _le Perche_ Aulerci reduced by P. Crassus, G, ii. 34; massacre their senate, and join Viridovix, G. iii. 17; Aulerci Brannovices ordered to furnish their contingent to the relief of Alesia, G. vii. 7; Aulerci Cenomanni furnish five thousand, _ibid_.; Aulerci Eburovices three thousand, _ibid_. Ausci, a people of Gaul, those of _Auchs_ or _Aux_, in Gascony; they submit to Crassus and send hostages, G. iii. 27 Auset[=a]ni, a people of Spain, under the Pyrenean mountains; they send ambassadors to Caesar, with an offer of submission, C. i. 60 Aux[)i]mum, a town in Italy, _Osimo_, or _Osmo_; Caesar makes himself master of it, C. i. 15 Av[=a]r[)i]cum, a city of Aquitaine, the capital of the Biturigians, _Bourges_; besieged by Caesar, G. vii. 13; and at last taken by storm, _ibid_. 31 Ax[)o]na, the river _Aisne_, Caesar crosses it in his march against the Belgians, G. ii. 5, 6 Bac[=e]nis, a forest of ancient Germany, which parted the Suevi from the Cherusci; by some supposed to be the Forests of _Thuringia_, by others the _Black Forest_; the Suevians encamp at the entrance of that wood, resolving there to await the approach of the Romans, G vi. 10 Bac[)u]lus, P. Sextius, his remarkable bravery, G. vi. 38 Baet[)i]ca, in the ancient geography, about a third part of Spain, containing _Andalusia_, and a part of _Granada_ Bagr[)a]das, a river of Africa, near Ut[)i]ca, the _Begrada_; Curio arrives with his army at that river, C. ii. 38 Bale[=a]res Ins[)u]lae, several islands in the Mediterranean Sea, formerly so called, of which _Majorca_ and _Minorca_ are the chief; the inhabitants famous for their dexterity in the use of the sling, G. ii. 7 Bat[)a]vi, the ancient inhabitants of the island of Batavia Batavia, or Batavorum Insula, _Holland_, a part of which still retains the name of _Betuwe_; formed by the Meuse and the Wal, G. iv. 10 Belgae, the inhabitants of Gallia Belgica. The original Belgae were supposed to be of German extraction; but passing the Rhine, settled themselves in Gaul. The name Belgae belongs to the Cymric language, in which, under the form _Belgiaid_, the radical of which is _Belg_, it signifies warlike; they are the most warlike people of Gaul, G. i. 1; withstand the invasion of the Teutones and Cimbri, G. ii. 4; originally of German extraction, _ibid_.; Caesar obliges them to decamp and return to their several habitations, _ibid_. 11 Belgia, Belgium, or Gallia Belgica, the _Low Countries_, or _Netherlands_ Bellocassi, or Velocasses, a people of Gaul, inhabiting the country of _Bayeux_, in Normandy; they furnish three thousand men to the relief of Alesia, G. vii. 75 Bell[)o]v[)a]ci, an ancient renowned people among the Belgae, inhabiting the country now called _Beauvais_ in France; they furnish a hundred thousand men to the general confederacy of Belgium, G. ii. 4; join in the general defection under Vercingetorix, G. vii. 59; again take up arms against Caesar, viii. 7; but are compelled to submit and sue for pardon Bergea, a city of Macedonia, now called _Veria_ Berones, see _Retones_ Bessi, a people of Thrace, _Bessarabia_; they make part of Pompey's army, C. iii. 4 Bethuria, a region of Hispania Lusitanica, _Estremadura_ Bibracte, a town of Burgundy, now called _Autun_, the capital of the Aedui; Caesar, distressed for want of corn, marches thither to obtain a supply, G. i. 23 Bibrax, a town of Rheims, _Braine_, or _Bresne_; attacked with great fury by the confederate Belgians, G. ii. 6 Bibr[)o]ci, a people of Britain; according to Camden, _the hundred of Bray_, in Berkshire; they send ambassadors to Caesar to sue for peace, G. v. 21 Bib[)u]lus burns thirty of Caesar's ships, C. iii. 8; his hatred of Caesar, _ibid_. 8, 16; his cruelty towards the prisoners that fell into his hands, _ibid_. 14; his death, _ibid_. 18; death of his two sons, _ibid_. 110 Bigerriones, a people of Gaul, inhabiting the country now called _Bigorre,_ in Gascony; they surrender and give hostages to Crassus, G. iii. 27 Bithynia, a country of Asia Minor, adjoining to Troas, over against Thrace, _Becsangial_ Bit[:u]r[)i]ges, a people of Guienne, in France, of the country of _Berry;_ they join with the Arverni in the general defection under Vercingetorix, G. vii. 5 Boeotia, a country in Greece; separated from Attica by Mount Citheron. It had formerly several other names and was famous for its capital, Thebes; it is now called _Stramulipa_ Boii, an ancient people of Germany who, passing the Rhine, settled in Gaul, the _Bourbonnois;_ they join with the Helvetians in their expedition against Gaul, G. i. 5; attack the Romans in flank, _ibid_. 25; Caesar allows them to settle among the Aeduans, _ibid_. 28 Bor[=a]ni, an ancient people of Germany, supposed by some to be the same as the Burii Bosphor[=a]ni, a people bordering upon the Euxine Sea, _the Tartars_ Bosph[)o]rus, two straits of the sea so called, one Bosphorus Thracius, now the _Straits of Constantinople;_ the other Bosphorus Climerius, now the _Straits of Caffa_ Brannov[=i]ces, the people of _Morienne,_ in France Brannovii furnished their contingent to the relief of Alesia, C. vii. 75 Bratuspant[)i]um, a city of Gaul, belonging to the Bellov[)a]ci, _Beauvais;_ it submits, and obtains pardon from Caesar, G. ii. 13 Bridge built by Caesar over the Rhine described, G. iv. 7 Br[)i]tannia, Caesar's expedition thither, G. iv. 20; description of the coast, 23; the Romans land in spite of the vigorous opposition of the islanders, 26; the Britons send ambassadors to Caesar to desire a peace, which they obtain on delivery of hostages, 27; they break the peace on hearing that Caesar's fleet was destroyed by a storm, and set upon the Roman foragers, 30; their manner of fighting in chariots; they fall upon the Roman camp, but are repulsed, and petition again for peace, which Caesar grants them, 33-35; Caesar passes over into their island a second time, v. 8; drives them from the woods where they had taken refuge, 9; describes their manners and way of living, 12; defeats them in several encounters, 15-21; grants them a peace, on their giving hostages, and agreeing to pay a yearly tribute, 22 Brundusium, a city of Italy, _Brindisi._ By the Greeks it was called [Greek: Brentesion], which in the Messapian language signified a stag's head, from the resemblance which its different harbours and creeks bore to that object; Pompey retires thither with his forces, C. i. 24; Caesar lays siege to it, 26; Pompey escapes from it by sea, upon which it immediately surrenders to Caesar, 28; Libo blocks up the port with a fleet, C. iii. 24; but by the valour of Antony is obliged to retire, _ibid_. Brutii, a people of Italy, _the Calabrians._ They were said to be runaway slaves and shepherds of the Lucanians, who, after concealing themselves for a time, became at last numerous enough to attack their masters, and succeeded at length in gaining their independence. Their very name is said to indicate that they were revolted slaves: [Greek: Brettious gar kalousi apostatas], says Strabo, speaking of the Lucanians Br[=u]tus, appointed to command the fleet in the war against the people of Vannes, G. iii. 11; engages and defeats at sea the Venetians, 14; and also the people of Marseilles, C. i. 58; engages them a second time with the same good fortune, ii. 3 Bullis, a town in Macedonia, unknown; it sends ambassadors to Caesar with an offer of submission, C. iii. 12 Buthr[=o]tum, a city of Epirus, _Butrinto,_ or _Botronto_ Byzantium, an ancient city of Thrace, called at different times Ligos, Nova Roma, and now _Constantinople_ Cabill[=o]num, a city of ancient Gaul, _Chalons sur Sa[^o]ne_ Cad[=e]tes, a people of Gaul, unknown Cadurci, a people of Gaul, inhabiting the country of _Quercy_ Caeraesi, a people of Belgic Gaul, inhabiting the country round Namur; they join in the general confederacy of Belgium against Caesar, G. i. 4 Caesar, hastens towards Gaul, C. i. 7; refuses the Helvetians a passage through the Roman province, _ibid_.; his answer to their ambassadors, 14; defeats and sends them back into their own country, 25-27; sends ambassadors to Ariovistus, 34; calls a council of war: his speech, 40; begins his march, 41; his speech to Ariovistus, 43; totally routs the Germans, and obliges them to repass the Rhine, 53; his war with the Belgians, ii. 2; reduces the Suessi[)o]nes and Bellov[)a]ci, 12, 13; his prodigious slaughter of the Nervians, 20-27; obliges the Atuatici to submit, 32; prepares for the war against the Venetians, iii. 9; defeats them in a naval engagement, and totally subdues them, 14, 15; is obliged to put his army into winter quarters, before he can complete the reduction of the Menapians and Morini, 29; marches to find out the Germans; his answer to their ambassadors, iv. 8; attacks them in their camp and routs them, 14, 15; crosses the Rhine, and returns to Gaul, 17 --19; his expedition into Britain described, 22; refits his navy, 31; comes to the assistance of his foragers whom the Britons had attacked, 34; returns to Gaul, 36; gives orders for building a navy, v. 1; his preparations for a second expedition into Britain, 2; marches into the country of Treves to prevent a rebellion, 3; marches to Port Itius, and invites all the princes of Gaul to meet him there, 5; sets sail for Britain, 8; describes the country and customs of the inhabitants, 12; fords the river Thames, and puts Cassivellaunus, the leader of the Britons, to flight, 18; imposes a tribute upon the Britons and returns into Gaul, 23; routs the Nervians, and relieves Cicero, 51; resolves to winter in Gaul, 53; his second expedition into Germany, vi. 9; his description of the manners of the Gauls and Germans, 13; his return into Gaul, and vigorous prosecution of the war against Ambiorix, 27; crosses the mountains of the Cevennes in the midst of winter, and arrives at Auvergne, which submits, vii. 8; takes and sacks Genabum, 11; takes Noviodunum, and marches from thence to Avaricum, 12; his works before Alesia, 69; withstands all the attacks of the Gauls, and obliges the place to surrender, 89; marches into the country of the Biturigians, and compels them to submit, viii. 2; demands Guturvatus, who is delivered up and put to death, 38; marches to besiege Uxellodunum, 39; cuts off the hands of the besieged at Uxellodunum, 44; marches to Corfinium, and besieges it, C. i. 16, which in a short time surrenders, 22; he marches through Abruzzo, and great part of the kingdom of Naples, 23; his arrival at Brundusium, and blockade of the haven, 24; commits the siege of Marseilles to the case of Brutus and Trebonius, 36; his expedition to Spain, 37; his speech to Afranius, 85; comes to Marseilles, which surrenders. C. ii. 22; takes Oricum, iii. 8; marches to Dyrrhachium to cut off Pompey's communication with that place, 41; sends Canuleius into Epirus for corn, 42; besieges Pompey in his camp, his reasons for it, 43; encloses Pompey's works within his fortifications: a skirmish between them, 45; his army reduced to great straits for want of provisions, 47; offers Pompey battle, which he declines, 56; sends Clodius to Scipio, to treat about a peace, whose endeavours prove ineffectual, 57; joins Domitius, storms and takes the town of Gomphis in Thessaly, in four hours' time, 80; gains a complete victory over Pompey in the battle of Pharsalia, 93; summons Ptolemy and Cleopatra to attend him, 107; burns the Alexandrian fleet, 111 Caesar[=e]a, the chief city of Cappadocia Caesia Sylva, the _Caesian_ Forest, supposed to be a part of the Hercynian Forest, about the duchy of Cleves and Westphalia Calagurritani, a people of Hispania Tarraconensis, inhabiting the province of _Calahorra;_ send ambassadors to Caesar with an offer of submission, C. i. 60 Cal[)e]tes, an ancient people of Belgic Gaul, inhabiting the country called _Le Pais de Caulx,_ in Normandy, betwixt the Seine and the sea; they furnish ten thousand men in the general revolt of Belgium, G. ii. 4 Cal[)y]don, a city of Aetolia, _Ayton,_ C. iii. 35 C[)a]m[)e]r[=i]num, a city of Umbria, in Italy, _Camarino_ Camp[=a]n[)i]a, the most pleasant part of Italy, in the kingdom of Naples, now called _Terra di Lavoro_ Campi Can[=i]ni, a place in the Milanese, in Italy, not far from Belizona Campi Catalaunici, supposed to be the large plain which begins about two miles from Chalons sur Marne Cam[=u]l[)o]g[=e]nus appointed commander-in-chief by the Parisians, G. vii. 57; obliges Labienus to decamp from before Paris, _ibid.;_ is slain, 62 Cadav[)i]a, a country of Macedonia, _Canovia_ Caninefates, an ancient people of the lower part of Germany, near Batavia, occupying the country in which Gorckum, on the Maese, in South Holland, now is Can[=i]nius sets Duracius at liberty, who had been shut up in Limonum by Dumnacus, G. viii. 26; pursues Drapes, 30; lays siege to Uxellodunum, 33 Cant[)a]bri, the Cantabrians, an ancient warlike people of Spain, properly of the provinces of _Guipuscoa_ and _Biscay_; they are obliged by Afranius to furnish a supply of troops, C. i. 38 Cantium, a part of England, _the county of Kent_ C[)a]nus[=i]um, a city of Apulia, in Italy, _Canosa_. The splendid remains of antiquity discovered among the ruins of Canosa, together with its coins, establish the Grecian origin of the place Cappadocia, a large country in Asia Minor, upon the Euxine Sea Capr[)e]a, _Capri_, an island on the coast of Campania Cap[)u]a, _Capha_, a city in the kingdom of Naples, in the Provincia di Lavoro C[)a]r[)a]les, a city of Sardinia, _Cagliari_ C[)a]r[)a]l[)i]t[=a]ni, the people of _Cagliari_, in Sardinia; they declare against Pompey, and expel Cotta with his garrison, C. i. 30 Carc[)a]so, a city of Gaul, _Carcassone_ Carm[=o]na, a town of Hispania Baetica, _Carmone_; declares for Caesar, and expels the enemy's garrison, C. ii. 19 Carni, an ancient people, inhabiting a part of Noricum, whose country is still called _Carniola_ Carn[=u]tes, an ancient people of France, inhabiting the territory now called _Chartres_; Caesar quarters some troops among them, G. ii. 35; they openly assassinate Tasgetins, G. v. 25; send ambassadors to Caesar and submit, vi. 4; offer to be the first in taking up alms against the Romans, vii. 2; attack the Biturigians, but are dispersed and put to flight by Caesar. viii. 5 Carpi, an ancient people near the Danube Cassandr[)e]a, a city of Macedonia, _Cassandria_ Cassi, a people of ancient Britain, _the hundred of Caishow_, in _Hertfordshire_; they send ambassadors and submit to Caesar, G. v. 21 Caesil[=i]num, a town in Italy, _Castelluzzo_ Cassivellaunus, chosen commander-in-chief of the confederate Britons, G. v. 11; endeavours in vain to stop the course of Caesar's conquests, 18; is obliged to submit, and accept Caesar's terms, 22 Cassius, Pompey's lieutenant, burns Caesar's fleet in Sicily, C. iii. 101 Castellum Menapiorum, _Kessel_, a town in Brabant, on the river Neerse, not far from the Maese Cast[)i]cus, the son of Catam['a]ntaledes, solicited by Orgetorix to invade the liberty of his country, G. i. 3 Castra Posthumiana, a town in Hispania Baetica, _Castro el Rio_ Castra Vetera, an ancient city in Lower Germany, in the duchy of Cleves; some say where _Santon_, others where _Byrthon_ now is Castulonensis Saltus, a city of Hispania Tarraconensis, _Castona la Vieja_ Cativulcus takes up arms against the Romans at the instigation of Indutiomarus, G. v. 24; poisons himself, vi. 31 Cato of Utica, the source of his hatred to Caesar, C. i. 4; made praetor of Sicily, prepares for war, and abdicates his province, 30 Catur[)i]ges, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting the country of _Embrun_, or _Ambrun_, or _Chagres_; oppose Caesar's passage over the Alps, G. i. 10 Cavalry, their institution and manner of fighting among the Germans, G. i. 48, iv. 2 Cavarillus taken and brought before Caesar, G. vii. 62 Cavarinus, the Senones attempt to assassinate him, G. v. 54; Caesar orders him to attend him with the cavalry of the Senones, vi. 5 Cebenna Mons, the mountains of the _Cevennes_, in Gaul, separating the Helvians from Auvergne Celeja, a city of Noricum Mediterraneum, now _Cilley_ Celtae, a people of Thrace, about the mountains of Rhodope and Haemus Celtae, an ancient people of Gaul, in that part called Gallia Comata, between the Garumna (_Garonne_) and Sequana (_Seine_), from whom that country was likewise called Gallia Celtica. They were the most powerful of the three great nations that inhabited Gaul, and are supposed to be the original inhabitants of that extensive country. It is generally supposed that they called themselves _Gail_, or _Gael_, out of which name the Greeks formed their [Greek: Keltai], and the Romans Galli. Some, however, deduce the name from the Gaelic "_Ceilt,_" an inhabitant of the forest Celt[)i]b[=e]ri, an ancient people of Spain, descended from the Celtae, who settled about the River Iberus, or _Ebro_, from whom the country was called Celtiberia, now _Arragon_; Afranius obliges them to furnish a supply of troops, C. i. 38 Celtillus, the father of Vercingetorix, assassinated by the Arverni, G. vii. 4 Cenimagni, or Iceni, an ancient people of Britain, inhabiting the counties of _Suffolk, Norfolk, Cambridgeshire_, and _Huntingdonshire_ Cenis Mons, that part of the Alps which separates Savoy from Piedmont Cenni, an ancient people of Celtic extraction Cenom[=a]ni, a people of Gallia Celtica, in the country now called _Le Manseau_, adjoining to that of the Insubres Centr[=o]nes, an ancient people of Flanders, about the city of _Courtray_, dependent on the Nervians Centr[=o]nes, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting the country of Tarantaise Cerauni Montes, Mountains of Epirus, _Monti di Chimera_ Cerc[=i]na, an island on the coast of Africa, _Chercara, Cercare_ Cevennes, mountains of, Caesar passes them in the midst of winter, though covered with snow six feet deep, G. vii. 8 Chara, a root which served to support Caesar's army in extreme necessity, C. iii. 48; manner of preparing it, _ibid_. Chariots, manner of fighting with them among the Britons, G. iv. 33; dexterity of the British charioteers, _ibid_. Cherron[=e]sus, a peninsula of Africa, near Alexandria Cherson[=e]sus Cimbr[=i]ca, a peninsula on the Baltic, now _Jutland_, part of _Holstein, Ditmarsh_, and _Sleswic_ Cherusci, a great and warlike people of ancient Germany, between the Elbe and the Weser, about the country now called _Mansfield_, part of the duchy of _Brunswick_, and the dioceses of _Hildesheim_ and _Halberstadt_. The Cherusci, under the command of Arminius (Hermann), lured the unfortunate Varus into the wilds of the Saltus Teutoburgiensis (Tutinger Wold), where they massacred him and his whole army. They were afterwards defeated by Germanicus, who, on his march through the forest so fatal to his countrymen, found the bones of the legions where they had been left to blanch by their barbarian conqueror.--See Tacitus's account of the March of the Roman Legions through the German forests, _Annals,_ b. i. c. 71 Cicero, Quintus, attacked in his winter quarters by Ambi[)o]rix, G. v. 39; informs Caesar of his distress, who marches to relieve him, 46; attacked unexpectedly by the Sigambri, who are nevertheless obliged to retire, vi. 36 Cimbri, _the Jutlanders,_ a very ancient northern people, who inhabited Chersonesus Cimbrica Cing[)e]t[)o]rix, the leader of one of the factions among the Treviri, and firmly attached to Caesar, G. v. 3; declared a public enemy, and his goods confiscated by Indutiom[)a]rus, 56 Cing[)u]lum, a town of Pic[=e]num, in Italy, _Cingoli_ Cleopatra, engaged in a war with her brother Ptolemy, C. iii. 103 Clod[)i]us sent by Caesar to Scipio, to treat about a peace, but without effect, C. iii. 90 Cocas[=a]tes, a people of Gaul, according to some the _Bazadois_ Caelius Rufus raises a sedition in Rome, C. iii. 20; is expelled that city, then joins with Milo, 21; he is killed, 22 C[)o]imbra, an ancient city of Portugal, once destroyed, but now rebuilt, on the river _Mendego_ Colchis, a country in Asia, near Pontus, including the present _Mingrelia_ and _Georgia_ Com[=a]na Pont[)i]ca, a city of Asia Minor, _Com,_ or, _Tabachzan_ Com[=a]na of Cappadocia, _Arminacha_ Comius sent by Caesar into Britain to dispose the British states to submit, G. iv. 21; persuades the Bellov[)a]ci to furnish their contingent to the relief of Alesia, vii. 76; his distrust of the Romans, occasioned by an attempt to assassinate him, viii. 23; harasses the Romans greatly, and intercepts their convoys, 47; attacks Volusenus Quadratus, and runs him through the thigh, 48; submits to Antony, on condition of not appearing in the presence of any Roman, _ibid_. Compsa, a city of Italy, _Conza,_ or _Consa_ Concordia, an ancient city of the province of _Triuli,_ in Italy, now in ruins Condr[=u]si, or Condr[=u]s[=o]nes, an ancient people of Belgium, dependent on the Treviri, whose country is now called _Condrotz_, between Liege and Namur Conetod[=u]nus heads the Carnutes in their revolt from the Romans, and the massacre at Genabum, G. vii. 3 Confluens Mosae et Rheni, the confluence of the Meuse and Rhine, or the point where the Meuse joins the Vahalis, or Waal, which little river branches out from the Rhine Convictolit[=a]nis, a division on his account among the Aeduans, C. vii. 32; Caesar confirms his election to the supreme magistracy, 33; he persuades Litavicus and his brothers to rebel, 37 Corc[=y]ra, an island of Epirus, _Corfu_ Cord[)u]ba, a city of Hispania Baetica, _Cordova;_ Caesar summons the leading men of the several states of Spain to attend him there, C. ii. 19; transactions of that assembly, 21 Corf[=i]n[)i]um, a town belonging to the Peligni, in Italy, _St. Pelino,_ al. _Penlina;_ Caesar lays siege to it, C. i. 16; and obliges it to surrender, 24 Corinth, a famous and rich city of Achaia, in Greece, in the middle of the Isthmus going into Peloponnesus Corneli[=a]na Castra, a city of Africa, between Carthage and Utica Correus, general of the Bellov[)a]ci, with six thousand foot, and a thousand horse, lies in ambush for the Roman foragers, and attacks the Roman cavalry with a small party, but is routed and killed, G. viii. 19 Cors[)i]ca, a considerable island in the Mediterranean Sea, near Sardinia, which still retains its name Cosanum, a city of Calabria, in Italy, _Cassano_ Cotta, L. Aurunculeius, dissents from Sabinus in relation to the advice given them by Ambiorix, G. v. 28; his behaviour when attacked by the Gauls, 33; is slain, with the great part of his men, after a brave resistance, 37 Cotuatus and Conetodunus massacre all the Roman merchants at Genabum, G. vii. 3 Cotus, a division on his account among the Aeduans, G. vii. 32; obliged to desist from his pretensions to the supreme magistracy, 33 Crassus, P., his expedition into Aquitaine, G. iii. 20; reduces the Sotiates, 22; and other states, obliging them to give hostages, 27 Crast[)i]nus, his character, and courage at the battle of Pharsalia, C. iii. 91; where he is killed, 99 Cr[)e]m[=o]na, an ancient city of Gallia Cisalpina, which retains its name to this day, and is the metropolis of the _Cremonese_, in Italy Crete, one of the noblest islands in the Mediterranean Sea, now called _Candia_ Critognatus, his extraordinary speech and proposal to the garrison of Alesia, G. vii. 77 Curio obliges Cato to abandon the defence of Cicily, C. i. 30; sails for Africa, and successfully attacks Varus, ii. 25; his speech to revive the courage of his men, 32; defeats Varus, 34; giving too easy credit to a piece of false intelligence, is cut off with his whole army, 42 Curiosol[=i]tae, a people of Gaul, inhabiting _Cornoualle,_ in Bretagne Cycl[)a]des, islands in the Aegean Sea, _L'Isole dell' Archipelago_ Cyprus, an island in the Mediterranean Sea, between Syria and Cilicia, _Cipro_ Cyr[=e]ne, an ancient and once a fine city of Africa, situate over against Matapan, the most southern cape of Morea, _Cairoan_ Cyz[=i]cus, Atraki, formerly one of the largest cities of Asia Minor, in an island of the same name, in the Black Sea Dacia, an ancient country of Scythia, beyond the Danube, containing part of _Hungary, Transylvania, Walachia,_ and _Moldavia_ Dalm[=a]tia, a part of Illyricum, now called _Sclavonia_, lying between Croatia, Bosnia, Servia, and the Adriatic Gulf D[=a]n[)u]b[)i]us, the largest river in Europe, which rises in the Black Forest, and after flowing through that country, Bavaria, Austria, Hungary, Servia, Bulgaria, Moldavia, and Bessarabia, receiving in its course a great number of noted rivers, some say sixty, and 120 minor streams, falls into the Black or Euxine Sea, in two arms Dard[=a]nia, the ancient name of a country in Upper Moesia, which became afterwards a part of Dacia; _Rascia_, and part of _Servia_ Dec[=e]tia, a town in Gaul,_Decise_, on the Loire Delphi, a city of Achaia, _Delpho_, al. _Salona_ Delta, a very considerable province of Egypt, at the mouth of the Nile, _Errif_ Diablintes, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting the country called _Le Perche_; al. _Diableres_, in Bretagne; al. _Lintes_ of Brabant; al. _Lendoul_, over against Britain Divit[)i][)a]cus, the Aeduan, his attachment to the Romans and Caesar, G. i. 19; Caesar, for his sake, pardons his brother Dumnorix, _ibid_.; he complains to Caesar, in behalf of the rest of the Gauls, of the cruelty of Ariovistus, 31; marches against the Bellov[)a]ci create a diversion in favour of Caesar, ii. 10; intercedes for the Bellov[)a]ci, and obtains their pardon from Caesar, 14; goes to Rome to implore aid of the senate, but without effect, vi. 12 Domitius Ahenobarbus, besieged by Caesar in Corfinium, writes to Pompey for assistance, C. i. 15; seized by his own troops, who offer to deliver him up to Caesar, 20; Caesar's generous behaviour towards him, 23; he enters Marseilles, and is entrusted with the supreme command, 36; is defeated in a sea fight by Decimus Brutus, 58; escapes with great difficulty a little before the surrender of Marseilles, ii. 22 Domitius Calvinus, sent by Caesar into Macedonia, comes very opportunely to the relief of Cassius Longinus, C. iii. 34; gains several advantages over Scipio, 32 Drapes, in conjunction with Luterius, seizes Uxellodunum, G. viii. 30; his camp stormed, and himself made prisoner, 29; he starves himself, 44 Druids, priests so called, greatly esteemed in Gaul, and possessed of many valuable privileges, G. vi. 13 D[=u]bis, a river of Burgundy, _Le Doux_ Dumn[)a]cus besieges Duracius in Limonum, G. viii. 26; is defeated by Fabius, 27 Dumn[)o]rix, the brother of Divitiacus, his character, G. i. 15; persuades the noblemen of Gaul not to go with Caesar into Britain, v. 5; deserts, and is killed for his obstinacy, 6 Duracius besieged in Limonum by Dumnacus, general of the Andes, G. viii. 26 Durocort[=o]rum, a city of Gaul, _Rheims_ D[)y]rrh[)a]ch[)i]um, a city of Macedonia, _Durazzo, Drazzi_; Caesar endeavours to enclose Pompey within his lines near that place, C. iii. 41 Ebur[=o]nes, an ancient people of Germany, inhabiting part of the country, now the bishopric of _Liege_, and the county of _Namur_. Caesar takes severe vengeance on them for their perfidy, G. vi. 34, 35 Eb[=u]r[)o]v[=i]ces, a people of Gaul, inhabiting the country of _Evreux_, in Normandy; they massacre their senate, and join with Viridovix, G. iii. 17 Egypt, see _Aegypt_ El[=a]ver, a river of Gaul, the _Allier_ Eleut[=e]ti Cadurci, a branch of the Cadurci, in Aquitania. They are called in many editions Eleutheri Cadurci, but incorrectly, since Eleutheri is a term of Greek origin, and besides could hardly be applied to a Gallic tribe like the Eleuteti, who, in place of being free [Greek: eleutheroi], seem to have been clients of the Arverni; they furnish troops to the relief of Alesia, G. vii. 75 Elis, a city of Peloponnesus, _Belvidere_ Elus[=a]tes, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting the country of _Euse_, in Gascony Eph[)e]sus, an ancient and celebrated city of Asia Minor, _Efeso_; the temple of Diana there in danger of being stripped, G. iii. 32 Epidaurus, a maritime city of Dalmatia, _Ragusa_ Ep[=i]rus, a country in Greece, between Macedonia, Achaia, and the Ionian Sea, by some now called _Albania inferior_ Eporedorix, treacherously revolts from Caesar, G. vii. 54 Essui, a people of Gaul; the word seems to be a corruption from Aedui, C. v. 24 Etesian winds detain Caesar at Alexandria, which involves him in a new war, C. iii. 107 Eusubii, corrupted from _Unelli_, or _Lexovii_, properly the people of _Lisieux_, in Normandy Fabius, C., one of Caesar's lieutenants, sent into Spain, with three legions, C. i. 37; builds two bridges over the Segre for the convenience of foraging, 40 Fanum, a city of Umbria in Italy, _Fano_, C. i. 11 Fortune, her wonderful power and influence on matters of war, G. vi. 30 Faesulae, _Fiesoli_, an ancient city of Italy, in the duchy of Florence, anciently one of the twelve considerable cities of Etruria. Flavum, anciently reckoned the eastern mouth of the Rhine, now called the _Ulie_, and is a passage out of the Zuyder Sea into the North Sea Gab[)a]li, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting the country of _Givaudan_. Their chief city was Anduitum, now _Mende_, G. vii. 64; they join the general confederacy of Vercingetorix, and give hostages to Luterius, G. vii. 7 Gadit[=a]ni, the people of Gades, C. ii. 18 Gal[=a]tia, a country in Asia Minor, lying between Cappadocia, Pontus, and Paphlagonia, now called _Chiangare_ Galba Sergius, sent against the Nantuates, Veragrians, and Seduni, G. iii. 1; the barbarians attack his camp unexpectedly, but are repulsed with great loss, iii. 6 Galli, the Gauls, the people of ancient Gaul, now _France_; their country preferable to that of the Germans, G. i. 31; their manner of attacking towns, ii.6; of greater stature than the Romans, 30; quick and hasty in their resolves, iii.8; forward in undertaking wars, but soon fainting under misfortunes, 19; their manners, chiefs, druids, discipline, cavalry, religion, origin, marriages, and funerals, vi.13; their country geographically described, i.1 Gall[=i]a, the ancient and renowned country of Gaul, now _France_. It was divided by the Romans into-- Gallia Cisalpina, Tonsa, or Togata, now _Lombardy_, between the Alps and the river Rubicon: and-- Gallia Transalpina, or Com[=a]ta, comprehending _France, Holland, the Netherlands_: and farther subdivided into-- Gallia Belg[)i]ca, now a part of _Lower Germany_, and the _Netherlands_, with _Picardy_; divided by Augustus into Belgica and Germania__ and the latter into Prima and Secunda Gallia Celt[)i]ca, now _France_ properly so called, divided by Augustus into Lugdun[=e]nsis, and Rothomagensis Gallia Aquitan[)i]ca, now _Gascony_; divided by Augustus into Prima, Secunda, and Tertia: and-- Gallia Narbonensis, or Bracc[=a]ta, now _Languedoc, Dauphiny_, and _Provence_ Gallograecia, a country of Asia Minor, the same as _Galatia_ Gar[=i]tes, a people of Gaul, inhabiting the country now called _Gavre, Gavaraan_ Garoceli, or Graioc[)e]li, an ancient people of Gaul, about _Mount Genis_, or _Mount Genevre_ others place them in the _Val de Gorienne_; they oppose Caesar's passage over the Alps, G. i. 10 Garumna, the _Garonne_, one of the largest rivers of France, which, rising in the Pyrenees, flows through Guienne, forms the vast Bay of Garonne, and falls, by two mouths, into the British Seas. The Garonne is navigable as far as _Toulouse_, and communicates with the Mediterranean by means of the great canal, G. i. 1 Garumni, an ancient people of Gaul, in the neighbourhood of the _Garonne_, G. iii. 27 Geld[=u]ra, a fortress of the Ubii, on the Rhine, not improbably the present village of _Gelb_, on that river eleven German miles from N[=e]us Gen[)a]bum, _Orleans_, an ancient town in Gaul, famous for the massacre of the Roman citizens committed there by the Carn[=u]tes Gen[=e]va, a city of Savoy, now a free republic, upon the borders of Helvetia, where the Rhone issues from the Lake Lemanus, anciently a city of the Allobr[)o]ges Gen[=u]sus, a river of Macedonia, uncertain Gerg[=o]via, the name of two cities in ancient Gaul, the one belonging to the Boii, the other to the Arverni. The latter was the only Gallic city which baffled the attacks of Caesar Gerg[=o]via of the Averni, Vercingetorix expelled thence by Gobanitio, G. vii. 4; the Romans attacking it eagerly, are repulsed with great slaughter, 50 Gerg[=o]via of the Boii, besieged in vain by Vercingetorix, G. vii. 9 Germania, _Germany_, one of the largest countries of Europe, and the mother of those nations which, on the fall of the Roman empire, conquered all the rest. The name appears to be derived from _wer_, war, and _man_, a man, and signifies the country of warlike men Germans, habituated from their infancy to arms, G. i. 36; their manner of training their cavalry, 48; their superstition 50; defeated by Caesar, 53; their manners, religion, vi. 23; their huge stature and strength, G. i. 39 G[=e]tae, an ancient people of Scythia, who inhabited betwixt Moesia and Dacia, on each side of the Danube. Some think their country the same with the present _Walachia_, or _Moldavia_ Getulia, a province in the kingdom of Morocco, in Barbary Gomphi, a town in Thessaly, _Gonfi_, refusing to open its gates to Caesar, is stormed and taken, C. iii. 80 Gord[=u]ni, a people of Belgium, the ancient inhabitants of _Ghent_, according to others of _Courtray_; they join with Ambiorix in his attack of Cicero's camp, G. v. 39 Got[=i]ni, an ancient people of Germany, who were driven out of their country by Maroboduus Graecia, _Greece,_ a large part of Europe, called by the Turks _Rom[=e]lia,_ containing many countries, provinces, and islands, once the nursery of arts, learning, and sciences Graioc[)e]li, see _Garoceli_ Grudii, the inhabitants about _Louvaine,_ or, according to some, about _Bruges;_ they join with Ambiorix in his attack of Cicero's camp, G. v. 39 Gugerni, a people of ancient Germany, who dwelt on the right banks of the Rhine, between the Ubii and the Batavi Gutt[=o]nes, or Gyth[=o]nes, an ancient people of Germany, inhabiting about the Vistula Haemus, a mountain dividing Moesia and Thrace, _Argentaro_ Haliacmon, a river of Macedonia, uncertain; Scipio leaves Favonius with orders to build a fort on that river, C. iii. 36 Har[=u]des, or Har[=u]di, a people of Gallia Celtica, supposed to have been originally Germans: and by some to have inhabited the country about _Constance_ Helv[=e]tia, _Switzerland,_ now divided into thirteen cantons Helv[=e]tii, _the Helvetians, or Switzers,_ ancient inhabitants of the country of _Switzerland;_ the most warlike people of Gaul, G. i. 1; their design of abandoning their own country, 2; attacked with considerable loss near the river Sa[^o]ne, 12; vanquished and obliged to return home by Caesar, 26 Helvii, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting the country now possessed by the _Vivarois;_ Caesar marches into their territories, G. vii. 7 Heracl[=e]a, a city of Thrace, on the Euxine Sea, _Pantiro_ Heracl[=e]a Sent[)i]ca, a town in Macedonia, _Chesia_ Hercynia Silva, _the Hercinian Forest,_ the largest forest of ancient Germany, being reckoned by Caesar to have been sixty days' journey in length, and nine in breadth. Many parts of it have been since cut down, and many are yet remaining; of which, among others, is that called the _Black Forest;_ its prodigious extent, G. vi. 4 Hermand[=u]ri, an ancient people of Germany, particularly in the country now called _Misnia,_ in Upper Saxony; though they possessed a much larger tract of land, according to some, all _Bohemia_ Hermin[)i]us Mons, a mountain of _Lusitania, Monte Arm[)i]no;_ according to others, _Monte della Strella_ Her[)u]li, an ancient northern people, who came first out of Scandavia, but afterwards inhabited the country now called _Mecklenburg_ in Lower Saxony, towards the Baltic Hibernia, _Ireland,_ a considerable island to the west of Great Britain, G. v. 13 Hisp[=a]n[)i]a, Spain, one of the most considerable kingdoms of Europe, divided by the ancients into Tarraconensis, Baetica, and Lusitania. This name appears to be derived from the Phoenician _Saphan,_ a rabbit, vast numbers of these animals being found there by the Phoenician colonists Ib[=e]rus, a river of Hispania Tarraconensis, the _Ebro,_ C. i. 60 Iccius, or Itius Portus, a seaport town of ancient Gaul; _Boulogne,_ or, according to others, _Calais_ Ig[)i]l[)i]um, an island in the Tuscan Sea, _il Giglio, l'Isle du Lys_ Ig[)u]v[)i]um, a city of Umbria in Italy, _Gubio;_ it forsakes Pompey, and submits to Caesar, C. i. 12 Illurgavonenses, a people of Hispania Tarraconensis, near the Iberus; they submit to Caesar, and supply him with corn, C. i. 60 Illurgis, a town of Hispania Baetica, _Illera_ Induti[)o]m[)a]rus, at the head of a considerable faction among the Treviri, G. v. 3; endeavouring to make himself master of Labienus's camp, is repulsed and slain, 53 Is[)a]ra, the _Is[`e]re,_ a river of France, which rises in Savoy, and falls into the Rhone above Valance Isauria, a province anciently of Asia Minor, now a part of _Caramania,_ and subject to the Turks Issa (an island of the Adriatic Sea, _Lissa_), revolts from Caesar at the instigation of Octavius, C. iii. 9 Ister, that part of the Danube which passed by Illyricum Istr[)i]a, a country now in Italy, under the Venetians, bordering on Illyricum, so called from the river Ister Istr[)o]p[)o]lis, a city of Lower Moesia, near the south entrance of the Danube, _Prostraviza_ It[)a]l[)i]a, _Italy,_ one of the most famous countries in Europe, once the seat of the Roman empire, now under several princes, and free commonwealths It[)a]l[)i]ca, a city of Hispania Baetica, _Servila la Veja;_ according to others, _Alcala del Rio;_ shuts its gates against Varro, C. ii. 20 Itius Portus, Caesar embarks there for Britain, G. v. 5 It[=u]raea, a country of Palestine, _Sacar_ Jacet[=a]ni, or Lacet[=a]ni, a people of Spain, near the Pyrenean Mountains; revolt from Afranius and submit to Caesar, C. i. 60 Jadert[=i]ni, a people so called from their capital Jadera, a city of Illyricum, _Zara_ Juba, king of Numidia, strongly attached to Pompey, C. ii. 25; advances with a large army to the relief of Utica, 36; detaches a part of his troops to sustain Sabura, 40; defeats Cario, ii. 42; his cruelty, ii. 44 J[=u]ra, a mountain in Gallia Belgica, which separated the Sequani from the Helvetians, most of which is now called _Mount St. Claude._ The name appears to be derived from the Celtic, _jou-rag,_ which signifies the "domain of God;" the boundary of the Helvetians towards the Sequani, G. i. 2 Labi[=e]nus, one of Caesar's lieutenants, is attacked in his camp, G. v. 58, vi. 6; his stratagem, G. vii. 60; battle with the Gauls, G. vii. 59; is solicited by Caesar's enemies to join their party, G. viii. 52; built the town of Cingulum, C. i. 15; swears to follow Pompey, C. iii. 13; his dispute with Valerius about a peace, C. iii. 19; his cruelty towards Caesar's followers, C. iii. 71; flatters Pompey, C. iii. 87 Lacus B[)e]n[=a]cus, _Lago di Guardo,_ situated in the north of Italy, between Verona, Brescia, and Trent Lacus Lem[)a]nus, the lake upon which Geneva stands, formed by the River Rhone, between _Switzerland_ to the north, and Savoy to the south, commonly called the _Lake of Geneva_, G. i. 2, 8 Larin[=a]tes, the people of Larinum, a city of Italy, _Larino_; C. i. 23 Larissa, the principal city of Thessaly, a province of Macedonia, on the river Peneo L[)a]t[=i]ni, the inhabitants of Latium, an ancient part of Italy, whence the Latin tongue is so called Lat[=o]br[)i]gi, a people of Gallia Belgica, between the Allobroges and Helvetii, in the country called _Lausanne_; abandon their country, G. i. 5; return, G. i. 28; their number, G. i. 29 Lemnos, an island in the Aegean Sea, now called _Stalimane_ Lemov[=i]ces, an ancient people of Gaul, _le Limosin_, G. vii. 4 Lemov[=i]ces Armorici, the people of _St. Paul de Leon_ Lenium, a town in Lusitania, unknown Lent[)u]lus Marcellinus, the quaestor, one of Caesar's followers, C. iii. 62 Lentulus and Marcellus, the consuls, Caesar's enemies, G. viii. 50; leave Rome through fear of Caesar, C. i. 14 Lenunc[)u]li, fishing-boats, C. ii. 43 Lepontii, a people of the Alps, near the valley of _Leventini_, G. iv. 10 Leuci, a people of Gallia Belgica, where now Lorrain is, well skilled in darting. Their chief city is now called _Toul_, G. i. 40 Lev[)a]ci, a people of Brabant, not far from Louvain, whose chief town is now called _Leew_; dependants on the Nervii, G. v. 39 Lex, law of the Aedui respecting the election of magistrates, G. vii. 33 Lex, Julian law, C. ii. 14 Lex, the Pompeian law respecting bribery, C. iii. 1 Lex, two Caelian laws, C. iii. 20, 21 Lexovii, an ancient people of Gaul, _Lisieux_ in Normandy, G. iii. 11, 17 Liberty of the Gauls, G. iii. 8; the desire of, G. v. 27; the sweetness of, G. iii. 10; the incitement to, G. vii. 76; C. i. 47 Libo, praefect of Pompey's fleet, C. iii. 5; converses with Caesar at Oricum, C. iii. 16; takes possession of the Island at Brundisium, C. iii. 23; threatens the partisans of Caesar, C. iii. 24; withdraws from Brundisium, _ibid_. Liburni, an ancient people of Illyricum, inhabiting part of the present _Croatia_ Liger, or Ligeris, the _Loire_; one of the greatest and most celebrated rivers of France, said to receive one hundred and twelve rivers in its course; it rises in Velay, and falls into the Bay of Aquitain, below Nantz, G. iii. 5 Lig[)u]ria, a part of ancient Italy, extending from the Apennines to the Tuscan Sea, containing _Ferrara_, and the territories of _Genoa_ Limo, or Lim[=o]num, a city of ancient Gaul, _Poitiers_ Ling[)o]nes, a people of Gallia Belgica, inhabiting in and about _Langres_, in Champagne, G. i. 26, 40 Liscus, one of the Aedui, accuses Dumnorix to Caesar, G. i. 16, 17 Lissus, an ancient city of Macedonia, _Alessio_ Litavicus, one of the Aedui, G. vii. 37; his treachery and flight, G. vii. 38 Lucani, an ancient people of Italy, inhabiting the country now called _Basilicate_ Luceria, an ancient city of Italy, _Lucera_ Lucretius Vespillo, one of Pompey's followers, C. iii. 7 Lucterius or Laterius, one of the Cadurci, vii. 5, 7 Lusit[=a]nia, _Portugal_, a kingdom on the west of Spain, formerly a part of it Lusitanians, light-armed troops, C. i. 48 Lutetia, _Paris_, an ancient and famous city, now the capital of all France, on the river _Seine_ Lygii, an ancient people of Upper Germany, who inhabited the country now called _Silesia_, and on the borders of _Poland_ M[)a]c[)e]d[=o]nia, a large country, of great antiquity and fame, containing several provinces, now under the Turks Macedonian cavalry among Pompey's troops, C. iii. 4 Mae[=o]tis Palus, a vast lake in the north part of Scythia, now called _Marbianco_, or _Mare della Tana_. It is about six hundred miles in compass, and the river Tanais disembogues itself into it Maget[)o]br[)i]a, or Amagetobria, a city of Gaul, near which Ariovistus defeated the combined forces of the Gauls. It is supposed to correspond to the modern _Moigte de Broie_, near the village of _Pontailler_ Mandub[)i]i, an ancient people of Gaul, _l'Anxois_, in Burgundy; their famine and misery, G. vii. 78 Mandubratius, a Briton, G. v. 20 Marcellus, Caesar's enemy, G. viii 53 Marcius Crispus, is sent for a protection to the inhabitants of Thabena Marcomanni, a nation of the Suevi, whom Cluverius places between the Rhine, the Danube and the Neckar; who settled, however, under Maroboduus, in _Bohemia_ and _Moravia_. The name Marcomanni signifies border-men. Germans, G. i. 51 Marruc[=i]ni, an ancient people of Italy, inhabiting the country now called _Abruzzo_, C. i. 23; ii. 34 Mars, G. vi. 17 Marsi, an ancient people of Italy inhabiting the country now called _Ducato de Marsi_, C. ii. 27 Massilia, _Marseilles_, a large and flourishing city of Provence, in France, on the Mediterranean, said to be very ancient, and, according to some, built by the Phoenicians, but as Justin will have it, by the Phocaeans, in the time of Tarquinius, king of Rome Massilienses, the inhabitants of Marseilles, C. i. 34-36 Matisco, an ancient city of Gaul, _Mascon_, G. vii. 90 Matr[)o]na, a river in Gaul, the _Marne_, G. i. 1 Mauritania, _Barbary_, an extensive region of Africa, divided into M. Caesariensis, Tingitana, and Sitofensis Mediomatr[=i]ces, a people of Lorrain, on the Moselle, about the city of _Mentz_, G. iv. 10 Mediterranean Sea, the first discovered sea in the world, still very famous, and much frequented, which breaks in from the Atlantic Ocean, between Spain and Africa, by the straits of Gibraltar, or Hercules' Pillar, the _ne plus ultra_ of the ancients Meldae, according to some the people of _Meaux_; but more probably corrupted from _Belgae_ Melodunum, an ancient city of Gaul, upon the Seine, above Paris, _Melun_, G. vii. 58, 60 Menapii, an ancient people of Gallia Belgica, who inhabited on both sides of the Rhine. Some take them for the inhabitants of _Cleves_, and others of _Antwerp, Ghent_, etc., G. ii. 4; iii. 9 Menedemus, C. iii. 34 Mercurius, G. v. 17 Mes[)o]p[)o]t[=a]mia, a large country in the middle of Asia, between the Tigris and the Euphrates, _Diarbeck_ Mess[=a]na, an ancient and celebrated city of Sicily, still known by the name of _Messina_, C. iii. 101 M[)e]taurus, a river of Umbria, now called _Metoro_, in the duchy of Urbino Metios[=e]dum, an ancient city of Gaul, on the Seine, below Paris, _Corbeil_, G. vii. 61 Metr[)o]p[)o]lis, a city of Thessaly, between Pharsalus and Gomphi, C. iii. 11 Milo, C. iii. 21 Minerva, G. vi. 12 Minutius Rufus, C. iii. 7 Mitylene, a city of Lesbos, _Metelin_ Moesia, a country of Europe, and a province of the ancient Illyricum, bordering on Pannonia, divided into the Upper, containing _Bosnia_ and _Servia_, and the Lower, called _Bulgaria_ Mona, in Caesar, the Isle of _Man_; in Ptolemy, _Anglesey_, G. v. 13 Mor[)i]ni, an ancient people of the Low Countries, who probably inhabited on the present coast of _Bologne_, on the confines of _Picardy_ and _Artois_, because Caesar observes that from their country was the nearest passage to Britain, G. ii. 4 Moritasgus, G. v. 54 Mosa, the _Maess_, or _Meuse_, a large river of Gallia Belgica, which falls into the German Ocean below the Briel, G. iv. 10 Mosella, the _Moselle_, a river which, running through Lorrain, passes by Triers and falls unto the Rhine at Coblentz, famous for the vines growing in the neighbourhood of it Mysia, a country of Asia Minor, not far from the Hellespont, divided Into Major and Minor Nabathaei, an ancient people of Arabia, uncertain Nann[=e]tes, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting the country about _Nantes_, G. iii. 9 Nantu[=a]tes, an ancient people of the north part of Savoy, whose country is now called _Le Chablais_, G. iii. 1 Narbo, _Narbonne_, an ancient Roman city in Languedoc, in France, said to be built a hundred and thirty-eight years before the birth of Christ, G. iii. 20 Narisci, the ancient people of the country now called _Nortgow_, in Germany, the capital of which is the famous city of Nuremburg Nasua, the brother of Cimberius, and commander of the hundred cantons of the Suevi, who encamped on the banks of the Rhine with the intention of crossing that river, G. i. 37 Naupactus, an ancient and considerable city of Aetolia, now called _Lepanto_, C. iii. 35 Nem[=e]tes, a people of ancient Germany, about the city of Spire, on the Rhine, G. i. 51 Nemetocenna, a town of Belgium, not known for certain; according to some, _Arras_, G. viii, 47 Neocaesarea, the capital of Ponts, on the river Licus, now called _Tocat_ Nervii, an ancient people of _Gallia Belgica_, thought to have dwelt in the now diocese of _Cambray_. They attacked Caesar on his march, and fought until they were almost annihilated, G. ii. 17 Nessus, or Nestus, a river is Thrace, _Nesto_ Nicaea, a city of Bithynia, now called _Isnick_, famous for the first general council, anno 324, against Arianism Nit[=o]br[)i]ges, an ancient people of Gaul, whose territory lay on either side of the Garonne, and corresponded to the modern Agennois, in the department of Lot-et-Garonne. Their capital was Agrimum, now _Agen_, G. vii. 7, 31, 46, 75 Noreia, a city on the borders of Illyricum, in the province of Styria, near the modern village of Newmarket, about nine German miles from Aquileia, G. i. 5 N[=o]r[)i]cae Alpes, that part of the Alps which were in, or bordering upon, Noricum N[=o]r[)i]cum, anciently a large country, and now comprehending a great part of _Austria, Styria, Carinthia_, part of _Tyrol, Bavaria_, etc., and divided into Noricum Mediterraneum and Ripense. It was first conquered by the Romans under Tiberius, in the reign of Augustus, and was celebrated for its mineral treasures, especially iron N[)o]v[)i][)o]d[=u]num Belgarum, an ancient city of Belgic Gaul, now called _Noyon_ N[)o]v[)i][)o]d[=u]num Bitur[)i]gum, _Neuvy_, or _Neufvy_, G. vii. 12 N[)o]v[)i][)o]d[=u]num Aeduorum, _Nevers_, G. vii. 55 N[)o]v[)i][)o]d[=u]num Suessionum, _Soissons, al. Noyon_, G. ii. 12 N[)o]v[)i]om[=a]gum, _Spire_, an ancient city of Germany, in the now upper circle of the Rhine, and on that river Numantia, a celebrated city of ancient Spain, famous for a gallant resistance against the Romans, in a siege of fourteen years; _Almasan_ Numeius, G. i. 7 Num[)i]dae, the inhabitants of, G. ii. 7 Numid[)i]a, an ancient and celebrated kingdom of Africa, bordering on Mauritania; _Algiers, Tunis, Tripoli_, etc. N[=y]mphaeum, a promontory of Illyricum, exposed to the south wind, and distant about three miles from Lissus, _Alessio_, C. iii. 26 Oc[)e]lum, a town situated among the Cottian Alps, Usseau in Piedmont, G. i. 10 Octavius, C. iii. 9 Octod[=u]rus, a town belonging to the Veragrians, among the Pennine Alps, now _Martigny_ in the Valois, G. iii. 1 Octog[=e]sa, a city of Hispania Tarraconensis, _Mequinenza_, C. i. 61 Ollovico, G. vii. 31 Orch[)o]m[)e]nus, a town in Boeotia, _Orcomeno_, C. iii. 5 5 Orcynia, the name given by Greek writers to the Hercynian forest Orget[=o]rix, G. i. 2, 3 Or[)i]cum, a town in Epirus, _Orco, or Orcha_, C. iii. 11, 12 Osc[=e]nses, the people of Osca, a town in Hispania Tarraconensis, now _Huescar_, C. i. 60 Os[=i]sm[)i]i, an ancient people of Gaul, one of the Gentes Armoricae. Their country occupied part of Neodron Brittany; capital Vorganium, afterwards Osismii, and now _Korbez_. In this territory also stood Brivatas Portus, now _Brest_, G. i. 34 Otacilii, C. iii. 28 Padua, the _Po_, the largest river in Italy, which rises in Piedmont, and dividing Lombardy into two parts, falls into the Adriatic Sea, by many mouths; south of Venice Paem[=a]ni, an ancient people of Gallia Belgica; according to some, those of _Luxemburg_; according to others, the people of _Pemont_, near the Black Forest, in part of the modern _Lugen_, G. ii. 4 P[)a]laeste, a town in Epirus, near Oricurn Pann[=o]n[)i]a, a very large country in the ancient division of Europe, divided into the Upper and Lower, and comprehended betwixt Illyricum, the Danube, and the mountains Cethi P[)a]ris[)i]i, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting the country now called the _Isle of France_. Their capital was Lutetia, afterwards Parisii, now _Paris_, G. vi. 3 P[=a]rth[)i]a, a country in Asia, lying between Media, Caramania, and the Hyreanian Sea Parthians at war with Rome, C. iii. 31 P[=a]rth[=i]ni, a people of Macedonia; their chief city taken by storm, C. iii. 41 P[=e]l[=i]gni, a people of Italy in Abruzzo, C. i. 15 P[)e]l[)o]ponn[=e]sus, the _Morea_, a famous, large, and fruitful peninsula of Greece, now belonging to the Venetians P[=e]l[=u]s[)i]um, an ancient and celebrated city of Egypt, _Belbais_; Pompey goes to it, C. iii. 103; taken by Mithridates P[=e]rg[)a]mus, an ancient and famous city of Mysia, _Pergamo_ Per[)i]nthus, a city of Thrace, about a day's journey west of Constantinople, now in a decaying condition, and called _Heraclea_ P[=e]rs[)i]a, one of the largest, most ancient and celebrated kingdoms of Asia P[=e]tra, an ancient city of Macedonia, uncertain Petreius, one of Pompey's lieutenants, C. i. 38 P[=e]tr[)o]g[)o]r[)i]i, a country in Gaul, east of the mouth of the Garumna; their chief city was Vesuna, afterwards Petrocorii, now _Perigueux_, the capital of Perigord Pe[=u]c[=i]ni, the inhabitants of the islands of Peuce, in one of the mouths of the Danube Ph[=a]rs[=a]l[)i]a, a part of Thessaly, famous for the battle between Caesar and Pompey, which decided the fate of the Roman commonwealth Pharus, an isle facing the port of Alexandria in ancient Egypt; _Farion_ Phasis, a large river in Colchis, now called _Fasso_, which flows into the Euxine Sea Ph[)i]lippi, a city of Macedonia, on the confines of Thrace, _Filippo_ Ph[)i]l[=i]pp[)o]p[)o]lis, a city of Thrace, near the river Hebrus, _Filippopoli_ Phr[)y]g[)i]a, two countries in Asia Minor, one called Major, the other Minor P[=i]c[=e]num, an ancient district of Italy, lying eastward of Umbria; _the March of Ancona_; according to others, _Piscara_ P[=i]cti, _Picts_, an ancient barbarous northern people, who by inter-marriages became, in course of time, one nation with the Scots; but are originally supposed to have come out of Denmark or Scythia, to the Isles of Orkney, and from thence into Scotland P[=i]ct[)o]nes, an ancient people of Gaul, along the southern bank of the Liger, or Loire. Their capital was Limonum, afterwards Pictones, now _Paitross_, in the department _de la Vienne_, G. iii. 11 Pir[=u]stae, an ancient people of Dalmatia, Illyricum, on the confines of Pannonia. They are the same as the Pyraci of Pliny (H. N. iii. 22), G. v. i P[)i]saurum, a city of Umbria in Italy, _Pisaro_ Piso, an Aquitanian, slain, G. iv. 12 Placentia, an ancient city of Gallia Cisalpina, near the Po, now the metropolis of the duchy of _Piacenza_, which name it also bears Pleum[)o]si, an ancient people of Gallia Belgica, subject to the Nervians, and inhabiting near _Tournay_ Pompey, at first friendly to Caesar, G. vi. 1; subsequently estranged, G. viii. 53; could not bear an equal his authority, power, and influence, C. i. 61; sends ambassadors to Caesar, C. i. 8, 10; always received great respect from Caesar, C. i. 8; Caesar desires to bring him to an engagement, C. iii. 66; his unfortunate flight, C. iii. 15, 94, 102; his death, C. iii. 6, 7. Pomponius, C. iii. 101 Pontus Eux[=i]nus, the _Euxine,_ or _Black Sea_, from the Aegean along the Hellespont, to the Maeotic Lake, between Europe and Asia Posth[)u]m[)i][=a]na Castra, an ancient town in Hispania Baetica, now called _Castro el Rio_ Pothinus, king Ptolemy's tutor, C. iii. 108; his death, C. iii. 112 Praeciani, an ancient people of Gaul, _Precius_; they surrendered to the Romans, G. iii. 27 Provincia Rom[=a]na, or Romanorum, one of the southern provinces of France, the first the Romans conquered and brought into the form of a province, whence it obtained its name; which it still in some degree retains, being called at this day _Provence_. It extended from the Pyrenees to the Alps, along the coast. _Provence_ is only part of the ancient Provincia, which in its full extent included the departments of Pyr['e]n['e]es-Orientales, l'Arri[`e]ge, Aude[**Note: misprint "Ande" in the original], Haute Garonne, Tarn, Herault, Gard, Vaucluse, Bouches-du- Rh[^o]ne, Var, Basses-Alpes, Hautes-Alpes, La Dr[^o]me, l'Is[`e]re, l'Ain Prusa, or Prusas, _Bursa_, a city of Bithynia, at the foot of Olympus, built by Hannibal Ptolemaeius, Caesar interferes between him and Cleopatra, C. iii. 107; his father's will, C. iii. 108; Caesar takes the royal youth into his power, C. iii. 109 Pt[)o]l[)e]m[=a]is, an ancient city of Africa, _St. Jean d'Acre_ Publius Attius Varus, one of Pompey's generals, C. ii. 23 Pyrenaei Montes, the _Pyrenees_, or _Pyrenean mountains_, one of the largest chains of mountains in Europe, which divide Spain from France, running from east to west eighty-five leagues in length. The name is derived from the _Celtic Pyren_ or _Pyrn_, a high mountain, hence also Brenner, in the Tyrol Ravenna, a very ancient city of Italy, near the coast of the Adriatic Gulf, which still retains its ancient name. In the decline of the Roman empire, it was sometimes the seat of the emperors of the West; as it was likewise of the Visi-Gothic kingdom, C. i. 5 Raur[=a]ci, a people of ancient Germany, near the Helvetii, who inhabited near where _Basle_ in Switzerland now is; they unite with the Helvetii, and leave home, G. i. 5, 29 Rebilus, one of Caesar's lieutenants, a man of great military experience, C. ii. 34 Remi, the people of _Rheims_, a very ancient, fine, and populous city of France, in the province of Champagne, on the river Vesle; surrender to Caesar, G. ii. 3; their influence and power with Caesar, G. v. 54; vi. 64; they fall into an ambuscade of the Bellovaci, G. viii. 12 Rh[-e][)d]ones, an ancient people of Gaul inhabiting about _Rennes,_ in Bretagne; they surrender to the Romans, G. ii. 34 Rhaetia, the country of the _Grisons,_ on the Alps, near the Hercynian Forest Rhenus, the _Rhine,_ a large and famous river in Germany, which it formerly divided from Gaul. It springs out of the Rhaetian Alps, in the western borders of Switzerland, and the northern of the Grisons, from two springs which unite near Coire, and falls into the Meuse and the German Ocean, by two mouths, whence Virgil calls it Rhenus bicornis. It passes through Lacus Brigantinus, or the Lake of Constance, and Lacus Acronius or the Lake of Zell, and then continues its westerly direction to Basle (Basiliae). It then bends northward, and separates Germany from France, and further down Germany from Belgium. At Schenk the Rhine sends off its left-hand branch, the Vahalis (Waal), by a western course to join the Mosa or Meuse. The Rhine then flows on a few miles, and again separates into two branches--the one to the right called the Flevo, or Felvus, or Flevum--now the Yssel, and the other called the Helium, now the _Leek_. The latter joins the Mosa above Rotterdam. The Yssel was first connected with the Rhine by the canal of Drusus. It passed through the small lake of Flevo before reaching the sea which became expanded into what is now called the Zuyder Zee by increase of water through the Yssel from the Rhine. The whole course of the Rhine is nine hundred miles, of which six hundred and thirty are navigable from Basle to the sea.--G. iv. 10, 16, 17; vi. 9, etc.; description of it, G. iv. 10 Rh[)o]d[)a]nus, the _Rhone_, one of the most celebrated rivers of France, which rises from a double spring in Mont de la Fourche, a part of the Alps, on the borders of Switzerland, near the springs of the Rhine. It passes through the Lacus Lemanus, Lake of Geneva, and flows with a swift and rapid current in a southern direction into the Sinus Gallicus, or Gulf of Lyons. Its whole course is about four hundred miles Rhod[)o]pe, a famous mountain of Thrace, now called _Valiza_ Rh[)o]dus, Rhodes, a celebrated island in the Mediterranean, upon the coast of Asia Minor, over against Caria Rhynd[)a]gus, a river of Mysia in Asia, which falls into the Propontis R[)o]ma, _Rome_, once the seat of the Roman empire, and the capital of the then known world, now the immediate capital of Camagna di Roma only, on the river Tiber, and the papal seat; generally supposed to have been built by Romulus, in the first year of the seventh Olympiad, B.C. 753 Roscillus and Aegus, brothers belonging to the Allobroges, revolt from Caesar to Pompey, C. iii. 59 Roxol[-a]ni, a people of Scythia Europaea, bordering upon the Alani; their country, anciently called Roxolonia, is now _Red Russia_ R[)u]t[-e]ni, an ancient people of Gaul, to the north-west of the Volcae Arecomici, occupying the district now called Le Rauergne. Their capital was Segodunum, afterwards Ruteni, now Rhodes, G. i. 45; vii. 7, etc. S[=a]bis, _the Sambre_, a river of the Low Countries, which rises in Picardy, and falls into the Meuse at Namur, G. ii. 16, 18; vi. 33 Sabura, general of king Juba, C. ii. 38; his stratagem against Curio, C. ii. 40; his death, C. ii. 95 Sadales, the son of king Cotys, brings forces to Pompey, C. iii. 4 Salassii, an ancient city of Piedmont, whose chief town was where now _Aosta_ is situate Salluvii, _Sallyes_, a people of Gallia Narbonensis, about where _Aix_ now is Sal[=o]na, an ancient city of Dalmatia, and a Roman colony; the place where Dioclesian was born, and whither he retreated, after he had resigned the imperial dignity S[=a]lsus, a river of Hispania Baetica, _Rio Salado_, or _Guadajos_ S[)a]m[)a]r[:o]br[=i]va, _Amiens_, an ancient city of Gallia Belgica, enlarged and beautified by the emperor Antoninus Pius, now Amicus, the chief city of Picardy, on the river Somme; assembly of the, Gauls held there, G. v. 24 S[=a]nt[)o]nes, the ancient inhabitants of _Guienne_, or _Xantoigne_, G. i. 10 S[=a]rd[)i]n[)i]a, a large island in the Mediterranean, which in the time of the Romans had forty-two cities, it now belongs to the Duke of Savoy, with the title of king S[=a]rm[=a]t[)i]a, a very large northern country, divided into Sarmatia Asiatica, containing _Tartary, Petigora, Circassia_, and the country of the _Morduitae_; and Sarmatia Europaea, containing _Russia_, part of _Poland, Prussia_, and _Lithuania_ Savus, the _Save_, a large river which rises in Upper Carniola, and falls into the Danube at Belgrade Scaeva, one of Caesar's centurions, displays remarkable valour, C. iii. 5 3; his shield is pierced in two hundred and thirty places Sc[=a]ldis, the _Scheld_, a noted river in the Low Countries, which rises in Picardy, and washing several of the principal cities of Flanders and Brabant in its course, falls into the German Ocean by two mouths, one retaining its own name, and the other called the _Honte_. Its whole course does not exceed a hundred and twenty miles. G. vi. 33 Scandinav[)i]a, anciently a vast northern peninsula, containing what is yet called _Schonen_, anciently Scania, belonging to _Denmark_; and part of _Sweden_, _Norway_, and _Lapland_ Scipio, his opinion of Pompey and Caesar, C. i. 1, 21; his flight, C. iii. 37 S[)e]d[=u]l[)i]us, general of the Lemovices; his death, G. vii. 38 S[=e]d[=u]ni, a people of Gaul, to the south-east of the Lake of Geneva, occupying the upper part of the Valais. Their chief town was Civitus Sedunorum, now _Sion_, G. iii. i S[=e]d[=u]s[)i]i, an ancient people of Germany, on the borders of Suabia, G. i. 51 S[=e]gni, an ancient German nation, neighbours of the Condrusi, _Zulpich_ S[=e]g[=o]nt[)i][=a]ci, a people of ancient Britain, inhabiting about Holshot, in Hampshire, G. v. 21 Segovia, a city of Hispania Baetica, _Sagovia la Menos_ S[)e]g[=u]s[)i][=a]ni, a people of Gallia Celtica, about where _Lionois Forest_ is now situate Sen[)o]nes, an ancient nation of the Celtae, inhabiting the country about the _Senonois_, in Gaul Sequ[)a]na, the _Seine_, one of the principal rivers of France, which rising in the duchy of Burgundy, not far from a town of the same name, and running through Paris, and by Rouen, forms at Candebec a great arm of the sea Sequ[)a]ni, an ancient people of Gallia Belgica, inhabiting the country now called the _Franche Comt['e]_, or the _Upper Burgundy_; they bring the Germans into Gaul, G. vi. 12; lose the chief power, _ibid_. Servilius the consul, C. iii. 21 S[=e]s[=u]v[)i]i, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting about _Seez_; they surrender to the Romans, G. ii. 34 Sextus Bibaculus, sick in the camp, G. vi. 38; fights bravely against the enemy, _ibid_. Sextus Caesar, C. ii. 20 Sextus, Quintilius Varus, qaestor, C. i. 23; C. ii. 28 Sib[=u]z[=a]tes, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting the country around the _Adour_; they surrender to the Romans, G. iii. 27 Sicil[)i]a, _Sicily_, a large island in the Tyrrhene Sea, at the south-west point of Italy, formerly called the storehouse of the Roman empire, it was the first province the Romans possessed out of Italy, C. i. 30 S[)i]c[)o]ris, a river in Catalonia, the _Segre_ S[)i]g[)a]mbri, or S[)i]c[)a]mbri, an ancient people of Lower Germany, between the Maese and the Rhine, where _Cuelderland_ is; though by some placed on the banks of the Maine, G. iv. 18 Silicensis, a river of Hispania Baetica, _Rio de las Algamidas_. Others think it a corruption from _Singuli_ Sinuessa, a city of Campania, not far from the Save, an ancient Roman colony, now in a ruinous condition; _Rocca di Mondragon['e]_ Soldurii, G. iii. 22 S[)o]t[)i][=a]tes, or Sontiates, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting the country about _Aire_; conquered by Caesar Aquillus, G. iii. 20, 21 Sp[=a]rta, a city of Peloponnesus, now called _Mucithra_, said to be as ancient as the days of the patriarch Jacob Spolet[)i]um, _Spoleto_, a city of great antiquity, of Umbria, in Italy, the capital of a duchy of the same name, on the river Tesino, where are yet some stately ruins of ancient Roman and Gothic edifices Statius Marcus, one of Caesar's lieutenants, C. iii. i 5 S[)u][=e]ss[)i][=o]nes, an ancient people of Gaul, _les Soissanois_; a kindred tribe with the Remi, G. ii. 3; surrender to Caesar, G. iii. 13 Su[=e]vi, an ancient, great, and warlike people of Germany, who possessed the greatest part of it, from the Rhine to the Elbe, but afterwards removed from the northern parts, and settled about the Danube; and some marched into Spain, where they established a kingdom, the greatest nation in Germany, G. i. 37, 51, 54; hold a levy against the Romans, G. iv. 19; the Germans say that not even the gods are a match for them, G. iii. 7; the Ubii pay them tribute, G. iv. 4 S[=u]lmo, an ancient city of Italy, _Sulmona_; its inhabitants declare in favour of Caesar, C. i. 18 Sulpicius, one of Caesar's lieutenants, stationed among the Aedui, C. i. 74 Supplications decreed in favour of Caesar on several occasions, G. ii. 15; _ibid_. 35; iv. 38 Suras, one of the Aeduan nobles, taken prisoner, G. viii. 45 Sylla, though a most merciless tyrant, left to the tribunes the right of giving protection, C. i. 5, 73 Syrac[=u]sae, _Saragusa_, once one of the noblest cities of Sicily, said to have been built by Archias, a Corinthian, about seven hundred years before Christ. The Romans besieged and took it during the second Punic war, on which occasion the great Archimedes was killed S[=y]rtes, _the Deserts of Barbary_; also two dangerous sandy gulfs in the Mediterranean, upon the coast of Barbary, in Africa, called the one Syrtis Magna, now the _Gulf of Sidra_; the other Syrtis Parva, now the _Gulf of Capes_ T[)a]m[)e]sis, the _Thames_, a celebrated and well-known river of Great Britain; Caesar crosses it, G. v. 18 Tan[)a]is, the _Don_, a very large river in Scythia, dividing Asia from Europe. It rises in the province of Resan, in Russia, and flowing through Crim-Tartary, runs into the Maeotic Lake, near a city of the same name, now in ruins T[=a]rb[=e]lli, a people of ancient Gaul, near the Pyrenees, inhabiting about _Ays_ and _Bayonne_, in the country of _Labourd_; they surrender to Crassus, G. iii. 27 Tarcundarius Castor, assists Pompey with three hundred cavalry, C. iii. 4 Tarr[)a]c[=i]na, an ancient city of Italy, which still retains the same name T[=a]rr[)a]co, _Tarragona_, a city of Spain, which in ancient time gave name to that part of it called Hispania Tarraconensis; by some said to be built by the Scipios, though others say before the Roman conquest, and that they only enlarged it. It stands on the mouth of the river Tulcis, now _el Fracoli_, with a small haven on the Mediterranean; its inhabitants desert to Caesar, C. i. 21, 60 Tar[=u]s[=a]tes, an ancient people of Gaul, uncertain; according to some, _le Teursan_; they surrender to the Romans, G. iii. 13, 23, 27 Tasg[=e]t[)i]us, chief of the Carnutes, slain by his countrymen, G. v. 25 Taur[=o]is, a fortress of the inhabitants of Massilia Taurus, an island in the Adriatic Sea, unknown Taurus Mons, the largest mountain in all Asia, extending from the Indian to the Aegean Seas, called by different names in different countries, viz., Imaus, Caucasus, Caspius, Cerausius, and in Scripture, Ar[)a]rat. Herbert says it is fifty English miles over, and 1500 long Taximagulus, one of the four kings or princes that reigned over Kent, G. v. 22 Tect[)o]s[)a]ges, a branch of the Volcae, G. vi. 24 Tegea, a city of Africa, unknown Tenchth[)e]ri, a people of ancient Germany, bordering on the Rhine, near _Overyssel_; they and the Usip[)e]tes arrive at the banks of the Rhine, iv. 4; cross that river by a stratagem, _ibid_.; are defeated with great slaughter, _ibid_. 15 Tergeste, a Roman colony, its inhabitants in the north of Italy cut off by an incursion, G. viii. 24 Terni, an ancient Roman colony, on the river Nare, twelve miles from Spol[=e]tum Teutomatus, king of the Nitobriges, G. vii. 31 Teut[)o]nes, or Teutoni, an ancient people bordering on the Cimbri, the common ancient name for all the Germans, whence they yet call themselves _Teutsche_, and their country _Teutschland_; they are repelled from the territories of the Belgae, G. ii. 4 Thebae, Thebes, a city of Boeotia, in Greece, said to have been built by Cadmus, destroyed by Alexander the Great, but rebuilt, and now known by the name of _Stives_; occupied by Kalenus, C. iii. 55 Therm[)o]pylae, a famous pass on the great mountain Oeta, leading into Phocis, in Achaia, now called _Bocca di Lupa_ Thessaly, a country of Greece, formerly a great part of Macedonia, now called _Janna_; in conjunction with Aetolia, sends ambassadors to Caesar, C. iii. 34; reduced by Caesar, _ibid_. 81 Thessalon[=i]ca, a chief city of Macedonia, now called _Salonichi_ Thracia, a large country of Europe, eastward from Macedonia, commonly called _Romania_, bounded by the Euxine and Aegean Seas Th[=u]r[=i]i, or T[=u]r[=i]i, an ancient people of Italy, _Torre Brodogneto_ Tigur[=i]nus Pagus, one of the four districts into which the Helvetii were divided according to Caesar, the ancient inhabitants of the canton of _Zurich_ in Switzerland, cut to pieces by Caesar, G. i. 12 Titus Ampius attempts sacrilege, but is prevented, C. iii. 105 Tol[=o]sa, _Thoulouse_, a city of Aquitaine, of great antiquity, the capital of Languedoc, on the Garonne Toxandri, an ancient people of the Low Countries, about _Breda_, and _Gertruydenburgh_; but according to some, of the diocese of _Liege_ Tralles, an ancient city of Lydia in, Asia Minor, _Chara_, C. iii. 105 Trebonius, one of Caesar's lieutenants, C. i. 36; torn down from the tribunal, C. iii. 21; shows remarkable industry in repairing the works, C. ii. 14; and humanity, C. iii. 20 Trev[)i]ri, the people of _Treves_, or _Triers_, a very ancient city of Lower Germany, on the Moselle, said to have been built by Trebetas, the brother of Ninus. It was made a Roman colony in the time of Augustus, and became afterwards the most famous city of Gallia Belgica. It was for some time the seat of the western empire, but it is now only the seat of the ecclesiastical elector named from it, G. i. 37; surpass the rest of the Gauls in cavalry, G. ii. 24; solicit the Germans to assist them against the Romans, G. v. 2, 55; their bravery, G. viii. 25; their defeat, G. vi. 8, vii. 63 Tr[)i]b[)o]ci, or Tr[)i]b[)o]ces, a people of ancient Germany, inhabiting the country of _Alsace_, G. i. 51 Tribunes of the soldiers and centurions desert to Caesar, C. i. 5 Tribunes (of the people) flee to Caesar, C. i. 5 Trin[)o]bantes, a people of ancient Britain, inhabitants of the counties of _Middlesex_ and _Hertfordshire_, G. v. 20 Troja, _Troy_, a city of Phrygia, in Asia Minor, near Mount _Ida_, destroyed by the Greeks, after a ten years' siege Tubero is prevented by Attius Varus from landing on the African coast, G. i. 31 Tulingi, an ancient people of Germany, who inhabited about where now _Stulingen_ in Switzerland is; border on the Helvetii, G. i. 5 Tungri, an ancient people inhabiting about where Tongres, in Liege, now is Tur[=o]nes, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting about _Tours_ Tusc[)i], or Hetrusci, the inhabitants of _Tuscany_, a very large and considerable region of Italy, anciently called Tyrrh[=e]nia, and Etruria Ubii, an ancient people of Lower Germany, who inhabited about where _Cologne_ and the duchy of _Juliers_ now are. They seek protection from the Romans against the Suevi, G. iv. 3; tributary to the Suevi, _ibid_.; declare in favour of Caesar, G. iv. 9, 14 Ulcilles Hirrus, one of Pompey's officers, C. i. 15 Ulla, or Ulia, a town in Hispania Baetica, in regard to whose situation geographers are not agreed; some making it _Monte Major_, others _Vaena_, others _Vilia_ Umbria, a large country of Italy, on both sides of the Apennines Unelli, an ancient people of Gaul, uncertain, G. ii. 34 Urbigenus, one of the cantons of the Helvetii, G. i. 27 Usip[)e]tes, an ancient people of Germany, who frequently changed their habitation Usita, a town unknown Uxellod[=u]num, a town in Gaul, whose situation is not known; according to some, _Ussoldun_ besieged and stormed, G. viii. 32 Vah[)a]lis, the _Waal_, the middle branch of the Rhine, which, passing by Nim[)e]guen, falls into the Meuse, above Gorcum, G. iv. 10 Valerius Flaccus, one of Caesar's lieutenants, C. i. 30; his death, C. iii. 5 3 Val[=e]t[)i][)a]cus, the brother of Cotus, G. vii. 32 Vangi[)o]nes, an ancient people of Germany, about the city of _Worms_, G. i. 51 V[=a]r[=e]nus, a centurion, his bravery, G. v. 44 Varro, one of Pompey's lieutenants, C. i. 38; his feelings towards Caesar, C. ii. 17; his cohorts driven out by the inhabitants of Carmona, C. ii. 19; his surrender, C. ii. 20 V[=a]rus, the _Var_, a river of Italy, that flows into the Mediterranean Sea, C. i. 87 Varus, one of Pompey's lieutenants, is afraid to oppose Juba. C. ii. 44; his flight, C. ii. 34 Vatinius, one of Caesar's followers, C. iii. 100 V[)e]launi, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting about _Velai_ Vellaunod[=u]num, a town in Gaul, about which geographers are much divided; some making it _Auxerre_, others _Chasteau Landon_, others _Villeneuve_ in Lorraine, others _Veron_. It surrenders, G. vii. 11 Velocasses, an ancient people of Normandy, about _Rouen_, G. ii. 4 V[)e]n[)e]ti, this name was anciently given as well to the _Venetians_ as to the people of _Vannes_, in Bretagne, in Gaul, for which last it stands in Caesar. They were powerful by sea, G. iii. 1; their senate is put to death by Caesar, G. iii. 16; they are completely defeated, _ibid_. 15; and surrender, _ibid_. 16 Veragri, a people of Gallia Lugdunensls, whose chief town was Aguanum, now _St. Maurice_, G. iii. 1 Verb[)i]g[)e]nus, or Urb[)i]g[)e]nus Pagus, a nation or canton of the Helvetians, inhabiting the country in the neighbourhood of _Orbe_ Vercelli Campi, the _Plains of Vercellae_, famous for a victory the Romans obtained there over the Cimbri. The city of that name is in Piedmont on the river Sesia, on the borders of the duchy of Milan Vercingetorix, the son of Celtillus, receives the title of king from his followers, G. vii. 4; his plans, G. vii. 8; is accused of treachery, G. vii. 20; his acts, G. vii. 8; surrenders to Caesar, G. vii. 82 Vergasillaunus, the Arvernian, one of the Gallic leaders, G. vii. 76; taken prisoner, G. vii. 88 Vergobr[)e]tus, the name given to the chief magistrate among the Aedui, G. i. 16 V[)e]r[)u]doct[)i]us, one of the Helvetian embassy who request permission from Caesar to pass through the province, G. i. 7 Veromand[)u]i, a people of Gallia Belgica, whose country, now a part of Picardy, is still called _Vermandois_ Ver[=o]na, a city of Lombardy, the capital of a province of the same name, on the river Adige, said to have been built by the Gauls two hundred and eighty-two years before Christ. It has yet several remains of antiquity Vertico, one of the Nervii. He was in Cicero's camp when it was attacked by the Eburones, and prevailed on a slave to carry a letter to Caesar communicating that information, G. v. 49 Vertiscus, general of the Remi, G. viii. 12 Vesontio, _Besan[,c]on_, the capital of the Sequani, now the chief city of Burgundy, G. i. 38 Vett[=o]nes, a people of Spain, inhabiting the province of _Estremadura_, C. i. 38 Vibo, a town in Italy, not far from the Sicilian Straits, _Bibona_ Vibullius Rufus, one of Pompey's followers, C. i. 15 Vienna, a city of Narbonese Gaul, _Vienne in Dauphiny_, G. vii. 9 Vindel[)i]ci, an ancient people of Germany, inhabitants of the country of Vindelicia, otherwise called Raetia secunda Viridomarus, a nobleman among the Aedui, G. vii. 38 Viridorix, king of the Unelli, G. iii. 17 Vist[)u]la, the _Weichsel_, a famous river of Poland, which rises in the Carpathian mountains, in Upper Silesia, and falls into the Baltic, not far from Dantzic, by three mouths Visurgis, the _Weser_, a river of Lower Germany, which rises in Franconia, and, among other places of note, passing by Bremen, falls into the German Ocean, not far from the mouth of the Elbe, between that and the Ems V[)o]c[=a]tes, a people of Gaul, on the confines of the Lapurdenses, G. iii. 23 Vocis, the king of the Norici, G. i. 58 V[)o]contii, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting about _Die_, in Dauphiny, and _Vaison_ in the county of Venisse Vog[)e]sus Mons, the mountain of _Vauge_ in Lorrain, or, according to others, _de Faucilles_, G. iv. 10 Volcae Arecom[)i]ci, and Tectosages, an ancient people of Gaul, inhabiting the _Upper_ and _Lower Languedoc_ Volcae, a powerful Gallic tribe, divided into two branches, the Tectosages and Arecomici, G. vii. 7 Volcatius Tullus, one of Caesar's partisans, C. iii. 52