Marcus: the Young Centurion Part 51

"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 pa.s.s, 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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.s.

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 ma.s.ses 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 fas.h.i.+on 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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.s 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 st.u.r.dy, 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 pa.s.s. 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 pa.s.s 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 princ.i.p.al 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 s.h.i.+eld joined to s.h.i.+eld 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 ma.s.s 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 antic.i.p.ating 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 s.h.i.+elds bristling with sword and spear.