The Four Corners of the World Part 53

Now once more the soldiers march through Anderida.

Gleva (_holds up her hand_): Listen!

[_A pause. The sound of marching is heard quite clearly, but at a distance_.]

Bran: It does not stop, Princess.

Gleva: All yesterday, all through last night, all through this long day! Listen to it, steady as a heart beating, steady and terrible.

(_She speaks with great discouragement, moving apart, L., and sitting on tree bole_.)

Caransius (_lighting fire_): I crept to the edge of the forest to-day.

I lay very quiet behind the bushes and looked out across the clearing to the road.

Gleva: You!

[_A general exclamation of astonishment._]

Caransius: Oh, it's not easy to frighten me, I can tell you. I fought at Verulanium with the Iceni. I know. I carried a sling. (_He nods majestically at his companions._) And there you have it.

Gleva: Yes, yes, good friend. But which way did the soldiers march?

What of the road?

[_She goes over to him._]

Caransius: Mistress, there wasn't any road. There were only soldiers.

As far as my eyes could see, bright helmets and brown faces and flas.h.i.+ng shoulder plates bobbing up and down between the trees and a smother of dust until my head whirled.

Bran and Both Attendants: Oh!

Gleva: But which way did they go?

Caransius: I lost my dog, too--the brute. He ran from me and joined the marching men. I dared not call to him.

Bran: Yes, that is the way of dogs.

Gleva: Did they go north towards the Wall? (_She shakes him._)

Caransius (_who has been blowing on the fire, now sits up comfortably and smiles upon Gleva, who is tortured with impatience_): G.o.d bless you, mistress, there isn't any Wall. I know about the Romans; I know!

I fought at Verulanium. Now!

[_Gleva turns away in despair of getting any sense out of him. A trumpet sounds on the top of Bignor Hill, faintly. All turn swiftly towards it_.]

Gleva: Ready!

[_A sound of armed men moving, a clash of s.h.i.+elds is heard from the top of Bignor Hill._]

Now fire the torch. Give it me! (_She springs on to the bank and waves it three times from side to side, steps down, and gives it back to an attendant, who puts it out._)

Caransius (_continuing placidly_): No, there's no Wall. There are a great many mistakes made about the Romans. They are no longer the men they were. I carried a sling at Verulanium, and there you have it.

I'll tell you something. The soldiers were marching to Regnum.

Gleva: To Regnum? Are you sure?

Caransius: Yes. Up over the great Down they went. I saw their armour amongst the trees on the side of the hill, and the smoke of their marching on the round bare top.

Gleva: They were going to Regnum and the sea. (_She speaks in despair._)

Third Attendant: I am afraid.

Gleva (_turns on him scornfully_): You! Why should you fear if they are marching to the sea?

Third Attendant: I have been afraid ever since yesterday. The noise of the marching scattered my wits.

[_Gleva and the others laugh contemptuously._]

And because I was afraid--I killed. (_A low cry of consternation bursts from Bran and Caransius._)

Bran: Madman! Madman!

Gleva: You killed one of the Romans!

Third Attendant (_stands before her_): I was afraid. It was by the old forge in the forest. There's a brook by the forge.

Bran: Yes.

Third Attendant: He had fallen out of the ranks. He was stooping over the brook. I saw the sun sparkle upon his helmet as he dipped it into the water, and his strong, brown neck as he raised it. I crept close to him and struck at his neck as he drank.

Caransius: That was a good stroke.

Bran: A mad stroke.

Third Attendant: He fell over without a cry, and all his armour rattled once.

Bran: It will be the fire for our barns, and death for every tenth man of the tribe.

Third Attendant: No one saw.

Gleva: Stand here!

[_The third attendant stands before her._]

I gave an order.

Caransius: Yet, mistress, it is better to strike against orders than to leave one's friends and, like my dog, follow the marching men.

[_A cry bursts from Bran. He seizes Caransius. Gleva stands with her hand upon her knife. Then she turns away, and buries her face in her hands. A whistle is heard from the hillside above her on the left. She looks up, and her face changes. She turns to third attendant._]

Gleva: Go up the hill--close to the camp, as close as you can creep, and watch. So may you earn your pardon. (_He goes off_.) You two stand aside--but not so far but that a cry may bring you instantly.

Bran: We will be ready. (_Exeunt R._)