Beric the Briton

A Story of the Roman Invasion

by G. A. Henty

CHAPTER IV: AN
INFURIATED PEOPLE

CHAPTER V: THE SACK OF
CAMALODUNUM

CHAPTER VII:
DEFEAT OF THE BRITONS

CHAPTER VIII: THE
GREAT SWAMPS

CHAPTER IX: THE
STRUGGLE IN THE SWAMP

CHAPTER XII: A SCHOOL FOR
GLADIATORS

CHAPTER XV: THE
CHRISTIANS TO THE LIONS

My series of stories dealing with the wars of England would be
altogether incomplete did it not include the period when the
Romans were the masters of the country. The valour with which the
natives of this island defended themselves was acknowledged by
the Roman historians, and it was only the superior discipline of
the invaders that enabled them finally to triumph over the
bravery and the superior physical strength of the Britons. The
Roman conquest for the time was undoubtedly of immense advantage
to the people–who had previously wasted their energies in
perpetual tribal wars–as it introduced among them the
civilization of Rome. In the end, however, it proved disastrous
to the islanders, who lost all their military virtues. Having
been defended from the savages of the north by the soldiers of
Rome, the Britons were, when the legions were recalled, unable to
offer any effectual resistance to the Saxons, who, coming under
the guise of friendship, speedily became their masters, imposing
a yoke infinitely more burdensome than that of Rome, and erasing
almost every sign of the civilization that had been engrafted
upon them. How far the British population disappeared under the
subsequent invasion and the still more oppressive yoke of the
Danes is uncertain; but as the invaders would naturally desire to
retain the people to cultivate the land for them, it is probable
that the great mass of the Britons were not exterminated. It is
at any rate pleasant to believe that with the Saxon, Danish, and
Norman blood in our veins, there is still a large admixture of
that of the valiant warriors who fought so bravely against
Caesar, and who rose under Boadicea in a desperate effort to
shake off the oppressive rule of Rome.

CHAPTER I: A
HOSTAGE

“It is a fair sight.”

“It may be a fair sight in a Roman’s eyes, Beric, but nought
could be fouler to those of a Briton. To me every one of those
blocks of brick and stone weighs down and helps to hold in
bondage this land of ours; while that temple they have dared to
rear to their gods, in celebration of their having conquered
Britain, is an insult and a lie. We are not conquered yet, as
they will some day know to their cost. We are silent, we wait,
but we do not admit that we are conquered.”

“I agree with you there. We have never fairly tried our
strength against them. These wretched divisions have always
prevented our making an effort to gather; Cassivelaunus and some
of the Kentish tribes alone opposed them at their first landing,
and he was betrayed and abandoned by the tribes on the north of
the Thames. It has been the same thing ever since. We fight
piecemeal; and while the Romans hurl their whole strength against
one tribe the others look on with folded hands. Who aided the
Trinobantes when the Romans defeated them and established
themselves on that hill? No one. They will eat Britain up bit by
bit.”

“Then you like them no better for having lived among them,
Beric?”

“I like them more, but I fear them more. One cannot be four
years among them, as I was, without seeing that in many respects
we might copy them with advantage. They are a great people.
Compare their splendid mansions and their regular orderly life,
their manners and their ways, with our rough huts, and our
feasts, ending as often as not with quarrels and brawls. Look at
their arts, their power of turning stone into lifelike figures,
and above all, the way in which they can transfer their thoughts
to white leaves, so that others, many many years hence, can read
them and know all that was passing, and what men thought and did
in the long bygone. Truly it is marvellous.”

“You are half Romanized, Beric,” his companion said
roughly.

“I think not,” the other said quietly; “I should be worse than
a fool had I lived, as I have done, a hostage among them for four
years without seeing that there is much to admire, much that we
could imitate with advantage, in their life and ways; but there
is no reason because they are wiser and far more polished, and in
many respects a greater people than we, that they should come
here to be our masters. These things are desirable, but they are
as nothing to freedom. I have said that I like them more for
being among them. I like them more for many reasons. They are
grave and courteous in their manner to each other; they obey
their own laws; every man has his rights; and while all yield
obedience to their superiors, the superiors respect the rights of
those below them. The highest among them cannot touch the
property or the life of the lowest in rank. All this seems to me
excellent; but then, on the other hand, my blood boils in my
veins at the contempt in which they hold us; at their greed,
their rapacity, their brutality, their denial to us of all
rights. In their eyes we are but savages, but wild men, who may
be useful for tilling the ground for them, but who, if
troublesome, should be hunted down and slain like wild beasts. I
admire them for what they can do; I respect them for their power
and learning; but I hate them as our oppressors.”

“That is better, Beric, much better. I had begun to fear that
the grand houses and the splendour of these Romans might have
sapped your patriotism. I hate them all; I hate changes; I would
live as we have always lived.”

“But you forget, Boduoc, that we ourselves have not been
standing still. Though our long past forefathers, when they
crossed from Gaul wave after wave, were rude warriors, we have
been learning ever since from Gaul as the Gauls have learned from
the Romans, and the Romans themselves admit that we have advanced
greatly since the days when, under their Caesar, they first
landed here. Look at the town on the hill there. Though ’tis
Roman now ’tis not changed so much from what it was under that
great king Cunobeline, while his people had knowledge of many
things of which we and the other tribes of the Iceni knew
nothing.”

“What good did it do them?” the other asked scornfully; “they
lie prostrate under the Roman yoke. It was easy to destroy their
towns while we, who have few towns to destroy, live comparatively
free. Look across at Camalodunum, Cunobeline’s capital. Where are
the men who built the houses, who dressed in soft garments, who
aped the Romans, and who regarded us as well nigh savage men?
Gone every one of them; hewn down on their own hearthstones, or
thrust out with their wives and families to wander homeless–is
there one left of them in yonder town? Their houses they were so
proud of, their cultivated fields, their wealth of all kinds has
been seized by the Romans. Did they fight any better for their
Roman fashions? Not they; the kingdom of Cunobeline, from the
Thames to the western sea, fell to pieces at a touch and it was
only among the wild Silures that Caractacus was able to make any
great resistance.”

“But we did no better, Boduoc; Ostorius crushed us as easily
as Claudius crushed the Trinobantes. It is no use our setting
ourselves against change. All that you urge against the
Trinobantes and the tribes of Kent the Silures might urge with
equal force against us. You must remember that we were like them
not so many ages back. The intercourse of the Gauls with us on
this eastern sea coast, and with the Kentish tribes, has changed
us greatly. We are no longer, like the western tribes, mere
hunters living in shelters of boughs and roaming the forests. Our
dress, with our long mantles, our loose vests and trousers,
differs as widely from that of these western tribes as it does
from the Romans. We live in towns, and if our houses are rude
they are solid. We no longer depend solely on the chase, but till
the ground and have our herds of cattle. I daresay there were
many of our ancestors who set themselves as much against the
Gaulish customs as you do against those of the Romans; but we
adopted them, and benefited by them, and though I would exult in
seeing the last Roman driven from our land, I should like after
their departure to see us adopt what is good and orderly and
decent in their customs and laws.”

Beric’s companion growled a malediction upon everything
Roman.

“There is one thing certain,” he said after a pause, “either
they must go altogether, not only here but everywhere–they
must learn, as our ancestors taught them at their two first
invasions, that it is hopeless to conquer Britain–or they will
end by being absolute masters of the island, and we shall be
their servants and slaves.”

“That is true enough,” Beric agreed; “but to conquer we must
be united, and not only united but steadfast. Of course I have
learned much of them while I have been with them. I have come to
speak their language, and have listened to their talk. It is not
only the Romans who are here whom we have to defeat, it is those
who will come after them. The power of Rome is great; how great
we cannot tell, but it is wonderful and almost inconceivable.
They have spread over vast countries, reducing peoples everywhere
under their dominion. I have seen what they call maps showing the
world as far as they know it, and well nigh all has been
conquered by them; but the farther away from Rome the more
difficulty have they in holding what they have conquered.

“That is our hope here; we are very far from Rome. They may
send army after army against us, but in time they will get weary
of the loss and expense when there is so little to gain, and as
after their first invasions a long time elapsed before they again
troubled us, so in the end they may abandon a useless enterprise.
Even now the Romans grumble at what they call their exile, but
they are obstinate and tenacious, and to rid our land of them for
good it would be necessary for us not only to be united among
ourselves when we rise against them, but to remain so, and to
oppose with our whole force the fresh armies they will bring
against us.

“You know how great the difficulties will be, Boduoc; we want
one great leader whom all the tribes will follow, just as all the
Roman legions obey one general; and what chance is there of such
a man arising–a man so great, so wise, so brave, that all the
tribes of Britain will lay aside their enmities and jealousies,
and submit themselves to his absolute guidance?”

“If we wait for that, Beric, we may wait for ever,” Boduoc
said in a sombre tone, “at any rate it is not while we are
tranquil under the Roman heel that such a man could show himself.
If he is to come to the front it must be in the day of battle.
Then, possibly, one chief may rise so high above his fellows that
all may recognize his merits and agree to follow him.”

“That is so,” Beric agreed; “but is it possible that even the
greatest hero should find support from all? Cassivelaunus was
betrayed by the Trinobantes. Who could have united the tribes
more than the sons of Cunobeline, who reigned over well nigh all
Britain, and who was a great king ruling wisely and well, and
doing all in his power to raise and advance the people; and yet,
when the hour came, the kingdom broke up into pieces. Veric, the
chief of the Cantii, went to Rome and invited the invader to aid
him against his rivals at home, and not a man of the Iceni or the
Brigantes marched to the aid of Caractacus and Togodamnus. What
wonder, then, that these were defeated. Worse than all, when
Caractacus was driven a fugitive to hide among the Brigantes, did
not their queen, Cartismandua, hand him over to the Romans? Where
can we hope to find a leader more fitted to unite us than was
Caractacus, the son of the king whom we all, at least, recognized
and paid tribute to; a prince who had learned wisdom from a wise
father, a warrior enterprising, bold, and indomitable–a true
patriot?

“If Caractacus could not unite us, what hope is there of
finding another who would do so? Moreover, our position is far
worse now than it was ten years ago. The Belgae and Dumnonii in
the southwest have been crushed after thirty battles; the Dobuni
in the centre have been defeated and garrisoned; the Silures have
set an example to us all, inflicting many defeats on the Romans;
but their power has at last been broken. The Brigantes and
ourselves have both been heavily struck, as we deserved, Boduoc,
for standing aloof from Caractacus at first. Thus the task of
shaking off the Roman bonds is far more difficult now than it was
when Plautius landed here twenty years ago. Well, it is time for
me to be going on. Won’t you come with me, Boduoc?”

“Not I, Beric; I never want to enter their town again save
with a sword in one hand and a torch in the other. It enrages me
to see the airs of superiority they give themselves. They scarce
seem even to see us as we walk in their streets; and as to the
soldiers as they stride along with helmet and shield, my fingers
itch to meet them in the forest. No; I promised to walk so far
with you, but I go no farther. How long will you be there?”

“Two hours at most, I should say.”

“The sun is halfway down, Beric; I will wait for you till it
touches that hill over there. Till then you will find me sitting
by the first tree at the spot where we left the forest.”

Beric nodded and walked on towards the town. The lad, for he
was not yet sixteen, was the son of Parta, the chieftainess of
one of the divisions of the great tribe of the Iceni, who
occupied the tract of country now known as Suffolk, Norfolk,
Cambridge, and Huntingdon. This tribe had yielded but a nominal
allegiance to Cunobeline, and had held aloof during the struggle
between Caractacus and the Romans, but when the latter had
attempted to establish forts in their country they had taken up
arms. Ostorius Scapula, the Roman proprietor, had marched against
them and defeated them with great slaughter, and they had
submitted to the Roman authority. The Sarci, the division of the
tribe to which Beric belonged, had taken a leading part in the
rising, and his father had fallen in the defence of their
intrenchments.

Among the British tribes the women ranked with the men, and
even when married the wife was often the acknowledged chief of
the tribe. Parta had held an equal authority with her husband,
and at his death remained sole head of the subtribe, and in order
to ensure its obedience in the future, Ostorius had insisted that
her only son Beric, at that time a boy of eleven, should be
handed over to them as a hostage.

Had Parta consulted her own wishes she would have retired with
a few followers to the swamps and fens of the country to the
north rather than surrender her son, but the Brigantes, who
inhabited Lincolnshire, and who ranged over the whole of the
north of Britain as far as Northumberland, had also received a
defeat at the hands of the Romans, and might not improbably hand
her over upon their demand. She therefore resigned herself to let
Beric go.

“My son,” she said, “I need not tell you not to let them
Romanize you. You have been brought up to hate them. Your father
has fallen before their weapons, half your tribe have been slain,
your country lies under their feet. I will not wrong you then by
fearing for a moment that they can make a Roman of you.

“You have been brought up to lie upon the bare ground, to
suffer fatigue and hardship, hunger and thirst, and the rich food
and splendid houses and soft raiment of the Romans should have no
attraction for you. I know not how long your imprisonment among
them may last. For the present I have little hope of another
rising; but should I see a prospect of anything like unity among
our people, I will send Boduoc with a message to you to hold
yourself in readiness to escape when you receive the signal that
the time has come. Till then employ your mind in gaining what
good you may by your residence among them; there must be some
advantage in their methods of warfare which has enabled the
people of one city to conquer the world.

“It is not their strength, for they are but pigmies to us. We
stand a full head above them, and even we women are stronger than
Roman soldiers, and yet they defeat us. Learn then their
language, throw your whole mind into that at first, then study
their military discipline and their laws. It must be the last as
much as their discipline that has made them rulers over so vast
an empire. Find out if you can the secret of their rule, and
study the training by which their soldiers move and fight as if
bound together by a cord, forming massive walls against which we
break ourselves in vain. Heed not their arts, pay no attention to
their luxuries, these did Cunobeline no good, and did not for a
day delay the destruction that fell upon his kingdom. What we
need is first a knowledge of their military tactics, so that we
may drive them from the land; secondly, a knowledge of their
laws, that we may rule ourselves wisely after they have gone.
What there is good in the rest may come in time.

“However kind they may be to you, bear always in mind that you
are but a prisoner among the oppressors of your country, and that
though, for reasons of policy, they may treat you well, yet that
they mercilessly despoil and ill treat your countrymen. Remember
too, Beric, that the Britons, now that Caractacus has been sent a
prisoner to Rome, need a leader, one who is not only brave and
valiant in the fight, but who can teach the people how to march
to victory, and can order and rule them well afterwards. We are
part of one of our greatest tribes, and from among us, if
anywhere, such a leader should come.

“I have great hopes of you, Beric. I know that you are brave,
for single handed you slew with an arrow a great wolf the other
day; but bravery is common to all, I do not think that there is a
coward in the tribe. I believe you are intelligent. I consulted
the old Druid in the forest last week, and he prophesied a high
destiny for you; and when the messenger brought the Roman summons
for me to deliver you up as a hostage, it seemed to me that this
was of all things the one that would fit you best for future
rule. I am not ambitious for you, Beric. It would be nought to me
if you were king of all the Britons. It is of our country that I
think. We need a great leader, and my prayer to the gods is that
one may be found. If you should be the man so much the better;
but if not, let it be another. Comport yourself among them
independently, as one who will some day be chief of a British
tribe, but be not sullen or obstinate. Mix freely with them,
learn their language, gather what are the laws under which they
live, see how they build those wonderful houses of theirs, watch
the soldiers at their exercises, so that when you return among us
you can train the Sarci to fight in a similar manner. Keep the
one purpose always in your mind. Exercise your muscles daily, for
among us no man can lead who is not as strong and as brave as the
best who follow him. Bear yourself so that you shall be in good
favour with all men.”

Beric had, to the best of his power, carried out the
instructions of his mother. It was the object of the Romans
always to win over their adversaries if possible, and the boy had
no reason to complain of his treatment. He was placed in the
charge of Caius Muro, commander of a legion, and a slave was at
once appointed to teach him Latin. He took his meals with the
scribe and steward of the household, for Caius was of noble
family, of considerable wealth, and his house was one of the
finest in Camalodunum. He was a kindly and just man, and much
beloved by his troops. As soon as Beric had learned the language,
Caius ordered the scribe to teach him the elements of Roman law,
and a decurion was ordered to take him in hand and instruct him
in arms.

As Beric was alike eager to study and to exercise in arms, he
gained the approval of both his teachers. Julia, the wife of
Caius, a kindly lady, took a great fancy to the boy. “He will
make a fine man, Caius,” she said one day when the boy was
fourteen years old. “See how handsome and strong he is; why,
Scipio, the son of the centurion Metellus, is older by two years,
and yet he is less strong than this young Briton.”

“They are a fine race, Julia, though in disposition as fierce
as wild cats, and not to be trusted. But the lad is, as you say,
strong and nimble. I marked him practising with the sword the
other day against Lucinus, who is a stout soldier, and the man
had as much as he could do to hold his own against him. I was
surprised myself to see how well he wielded a sword of full
weight, and how active he was. The contest reminded me of a dog
and a wild cat, so nimble were the boy’s springs, and so fierce
his attacks. Lucinus fairly lost his temper at last, and I
stopped the fight, for although they fought with blunted weapons,
he might well have injured the lad badly with a downright cut,
and that would have meant trouble with the Iceni again.”

“He is intelligent, too,” Julia replied. “Sometimes I have him
in while I am working with the two slave girls, and he will stand
for hours asking me questions about Rome, and about our manners
and customs.”

“One is never sure of these tamed wolves,” Caius said;
“sometimes they turn out valuable allies and assistants, at other
times they grow into formidable foes, all the more dangerous for
what they have learned of us. However, do with him as you like,
Julia; a woman has a lighter hand than a man, and you are more
likely to tame him than we are. Cneius says that he is very eager
to learn, and has ever a book in his hand when not practising in
arms.”

“What I like most in him,” Julia said, “is that he is very
fond of our little Berenice. The child has taken to him
wonderfully, and of an afternoon, when he has finished with
Cneius, she often goes out with him. Of course old Lucia goes
with them. It is funny to hear them on a wet day, when they
cannot go out, talking together–she telling him stories of
Rome and of our kings and consuls, and he telling her tales of
hunting the wolf and wild boar, and legends of his people, who
seem to have been always at war with someone.”

After Beric had resided for three years and a half at
Camalodunum a great grief fell on the family of Caius Muro, for
the damp airs from the valley had long affected Julia and she
gradually faded and died. Beric felt the loss very keenly, for
she had been uniformly kind to him. A year later Suetonius and
the governor of the colony decided that as the Sarci had now been
quiet for nearly five years, and as Caius reported that their
young chief seemed to have become thoroughly Romanized, he was
permitted to return to his tribe.

The present was his first visit to the colony since he had
left it four months before. His companion, Boduoc, was one of the
tribesmen, a young man six years his senior. He was related to
his mother, and had been his companion in his childish days,
teaching him woodcraft, and to throw the javelin and use the
sword. Together, before Beric went as hostage, they had wandered
through the forest and hunted the wolf and wild boar, and at that
time Boduoc had stood in the relation of an elder brother to
Beric. That relation had now much changed. Although Boduoc was a
powerful young man and Beric but a sturdy stripling, the former
was little better than an untutored savage, and he looked with
great respect upon Beric both as his chief and as possessing
knowledge that seemed to him to be amazing.

Hating the Romans blindly he had trembled lest he should find
Beric on his return completely Romanized. He had many times,
during the lad’s stay at Camalodunum, carried messages to him
there from his mother, and had sorrowfully shaken his head on his
way back through the forest as he thought of his young chief’s
surroundings. Beric had partially adopted the Roman costume, and
to hear him talking and jesting in their own language to the
occupants of the mansion, whose grandeur and appointments filled
Boduoc with an almost superstitious fear, was terrible to him.
However, his loyalty to Beric prevented him from breathing a word
in the tribe as to his fears, and he was delighted to find the
young chief return home in British garb, and to discover that
although his views of the Romans differed widely from his own, he
was still British at heart, and held firmly the opinion that the
only hope for the freedom of Britain was the entire expulsion of
the invaders.

He was gratified to find that Beric had become by no means
what he considered effeminate. He was built strongly and
massively, as might be expected from such parents, and was of the
true British type, that had so surprised the Romans at their
first coming among them, possessing great height and muscular
power, together with an activity promoted by constant
exercise.

Beric had fallen back upon the customs of his people as
thoroughly as if he had never dwelt in the stately Roman town. He
was as ready as before to undertake the longest hunting
expeditions, to sleep in the forest, to go from sunrise to sunset
without breaking his fast. When not engaged in hunting he
practised incessantly hurling the javelin and other warlike
exercises, while of an evening he frequently related stories of
Roman history to any chiefs or other guests of his mother, on
which occasions the humbler followers would gather thickly in the
background, evincing an interest even greater than that which
they felt in the songs and legends of the bards.

Beric generally chose stories relating to periods when Rome
was hardly pressed by her foes, showing how the intense feeling
of patriotism, and the obstinate determination to resist, in
spite of all dangers, upon the part of the population, and the
discipline and dogged valour of the soldiers, saved her from
destruction. He was cautious to draw no parallel openly to the
case of Britain. He knew that the Romans were made acquainted, by
traitors in their pay, with much that passed among the native
tribes, and that at first they were sure to interest themselves
in his proceedings. At present there could be no thought of a
rising, and the slightest sign of disaffection might bring
disaster and ruin upon his tribe. Only when some unexpected
event, some invasion of the rights of the Britons even more
flagrant than those that had hitherto taken place, should stir
the smouldering fire of discontent, and fan it into a fierce
flame of revolt from end to end of Britain, could success be
hoped for.

No Roman could have found fault with Beric’s relation of their
prowess or their valour; for he held them up to the admiration of
his hearers. “No wonder Rome is great and powerful,” he said,
“when its people evince so deep a love of country, so resolute a
determination in the face of their enemies, so unconquerable a
spirit when misfortune weighs upon them.”

To the men he addressed all this was new. It was true that a
few princes and chiefs had visited Rome, occasionally as
travellers desiring to see the centre of her greatness, more
often as exiles driven from Britain by defeat in civil strife,
but these had only brought back great tales of Rome’s
magnificence, and the Britons knew nothing of the history of the
invaders, and eagerly listened to the stories that Beric had
learned from their books in the course of his studies. The report
of his stories spread so far that visits were paid to the village
of Parta by chiefs and leading men from other sections of the
Iceni to listen to them.

Oratory was among the Britons, as among most primitive tribes,
highly prized and much cultivated. Oral tradition among such
peoples takes the place of books among civilized nations. Story
and legend are handed down from father to son, and the wandering
bard is a most welcome guest. Next only to valour oratory sways
and influences the minds of the people, and a Ulysses had greater
influence than an Ajax. From his earliest childhood Beric had
listened to the stories and legends told by bards in the rough
palace of his father, and his sole schooling before he went to
Camalodunum had been to learn these by heart, and to repeat them
with due emphasis and appropriate gesture. His father had been
one of the most eloquent and influential of the chiefs of the
Iceni, and had early impressed upon him the importance of
cultivating the power of speech.

His studies in Roman history, too, had taught him the power
exercised by men with the gift of moving multitudes by their
words; he had learned from books how clearly and distinctly
events could be described by a careful choice of words, and
attention to form and expression, so that almost unconsciously to
himself he had practised the art in his relations of the tales
and legends of British history to Berenice and her mother. Thus,
then, the manner no less than the matter of his recitals of Roman
story, gained him a high estimation among his hearers, and he was
already looked upon as a young chief likely to rise to a very
high position among the Iceni. Among the common herd his glowing
laudations of Roman patriotism, devotion, and sacrifice, caused
him to be regarded with disfavour, and the epithet “the Roman”
was frequently applied to him. But the wiser spirits saw the
hidden meaning of his stories, and that, while holding up the
Romans as an example, he was endeavouring to teach how much can
be done by patriotism, by a spirit of self sacrifice, and by
unity against a common foe. Parta was also proud of the
congratulations that distinguished chiefs, famed for their wisdom
throughout the tribe, offered to her on the occasion of their
visits.

“Beric will be a great chief,” one of the wisest of these said
to her; “truly his sojourn among the Romans has done great things
for him. It would be well, indeed, if every noble youth
throughout the island were to have such schooling, if he had your
son’s wit in taking advantage of it. He will be a great orator;
never among our bards have I heard narrations so clear and so
well delivered; although the deeds he praises are those of our
oppressors, one cannot but feel a thrill of enthusiasm as he
tells them. Yea, for the moment I myself felt half a Roman when
he told us of the brave youth who thrust his hand into the
flames, and suffered it to be consumed in order to impress the
invader with a knowledge of the spirit that animated the Romans,
and of the three men who held against a host the bridge that
their friends were breaking down behind them.

“If he could stir me thus by his tales of the deeds of our
enemies, what will it be when some day he makes the heroes of
Britain his theme, and calls upon his countrymen to imitate their
deeds! I have heard him called ‘the Roman,’ Parta. Now that I
have listened to him I know that he will, when the time comes, be
one of Rome’s most formidable foes. I will tell you now that
Prasutagus, our king, and his queen Boadicea, spoke to me about
Beric, and begged me to come hither to see for myself this youth
of whom they had heard reports from others, some saying that he
had returned a Roman heart and soul, while others affirmed that,
while he had learned much from them, he had forgotten nothing of
the injuries he had received at their hands in the death of his
father, and the disaster of the tribe. I shall know now what to
tell them. To Prasutagus, whose fear of the Romans is even
greater than his hatred for them, I shall say that the lad is
full of the glories of Roman story, and that there is no fear of
his doing or saying aught that will excite the anger or suspicion
of the Romans. To Boadicea, who hates the Romans far more than
she fears them, I shall tell the truth, and shall inform her that
when the time comes, as assuredly it some day will, that the
Iceni are called upon to defend their liberties against Rome, in
Beric she will find a champion of whom I predict that he will be
worthy to take his place in our history by the side of Caractacus
and Cassivelaunus. May our gods avert that, like them, he fall a
victim to British treachery!”

After leaving Boduoc, Beric crossed the bridge built by the
Romans over the Stour, and entered the city. Camalodunum was the
chief seat of the Roman power in England. Although but so short a
time had elapsed since Claudius had occupied it, it was already a
large city. A comparatively small proportion, however, was Roman
work, but all bore the impress of Roman art and civilization, for
Cunobeline, whose capital it had been, was a highly enlightened
king, and had introduced Roman ways and methods among his people.
Men instructed in their arts and architecture had been largely
employed in the building of the town, and its edifices would have
borne comparison with those in minor towns in the Roman
provinces.

The conquerors, therefore, found much of their work done for
them. The original possessors of the houses and of the highly
cultivated lands lying round the town were ejected wholesale, and
the Romans, establishing themselves in their abodes and farms,
then proceeded to add to, embellish, and fortify the town. The
2nd, 9th, and 14th Legions were selected by Claudius to found
what was called the colony, and to take possession of the
surrounding country. Plautius was appointed propraetor, or
governor, and establishing himself in the royal palace of
Cunobeline, his first step was to protect the city from renewed
attacks by the Britons. He accordingly erected vast works to the
westward of the town, extending from the sea to the river, by
which means he not only protected the city from attack, but
gained, in case of an assault by overpowering numbers, the means
of retiring safely to Mersea Island, lying a short distance from
the shore.

A council house and a tribunal were erected for the Roman
magistrates; temples, a theatre, and baths raised. The civilian
population increased rapidly. Architects, artists, and musicians,
decorators, skilled artisans, and traders were attracted from the
mainland to the rising city, which rapidly increased in wealth
and importance. Conspicuous on the most elevated position stood a
temple erected to the honour of Claudius, who was raised by the
grateful legionaries to divine rank. So strong and populous was
the city that the Trinobantes, during the years that had elapsed
since the Romans took possession of it, remained passive under
the yoke of their oppressors, and watched, without attempting to
take part in them, the rising of the Iceni and Brigantes, the
long and desperate war of the Silures and Ordovices under
Caractacus, and the reduction of the Belgae and Dumnonii from
Hampshire to Cornwall by Vespasian. Yet, had their spirit
remained unbroken, there was an opportunity for revenge, for a
large part of the veteran legionaries had been withdrawn to take
part in the struggle against the western tribes. The tribe had,
however, been disarmed, and with Camalodunum on the north, and
the rising towns of London and Verulamium on the south, they were
cut off from other tribes, and could not hope for final success,
unless the powerful Iceni, who were still semi-independent, rose
in the national cause. Whether their easy defeat of this tribe
soon after the occupation of Camalodunum had rendered the Romans
contemptuous of their fighting powers, or that they deemed it
wiser to subdue the southwest and west of England, and to strike
a heavy blow at the Brigantes to the north before interfering
with a powerful tribe so close to their doors, is uncertain; but
doubtless they felt that so long as Prasutagus reigned there was
little fear of trouble in that quarter, as that king protested
himself the friend and ally of Rome, and occupied himself wholly
in acquiring wealth and adding to his personal possessions.

The scene in Camalodunum was a familiar one to Beric. The
streets were thronged with people. Traders from Gaul and Italy,
Roman artisans and workmen, haughty legionaries with shield and
helmet, civil officials, Greek players, artists and decorators,
native tribesmen, with the products of their fields or the spoils
of the chase, walking with humble mien; and shopkeepers sitting
at the open fronts of their houses, while their slaves called the
attention of passersby to the merits of the goods. Here were the
rich products of Eastern looms, there the cloths and linen of
Rome, further on a smith’s shop in full work, beyond that a
silversmith’s, next door to which was a thriving trader who sold
unguents and perfumes, dyes for the ladies’ cheeks and pigments
for their eyebrows, dainty requisites for the toilette, and
perfumed soap. Bakers and butchers, vendors of fish and game, of
fruit, of Eastern spices and flavourings abounded.

Druggists and dealers in dyes for clothing and in the pigments
used in wall decorations and paintings were also to be found;
and, in fact, this Roman capital of a scarcely subjugated country
contained all the appliances for luxury and comfort that could be
found in the cities of the civilized provinces.

The only shops at which Beric paused were those of the
armourers and of the scribes, at some of which were exhibited
vellums with the writings of the Greek and Roman poets and
historians; and Beric muttered to himself, “If I am ever present
at the sack of Camalodunum these shall be my share of the spoil,
and I fancy that no one is likely to dispute their possession
with me.”

But he did not linger long. Boduoc would be waiting for him,
and he could not hurry over his visit, the first he had paid
since his absence; therefore he pushed on, with scarce a glance
at the stately temple of Claudius, the magnificent baths or other
public buildings, until he arrived at the villa of Caius Muro,
which stood somewhat beyond the more crowded part of the
town.

CHAPTER II: CITY AND FOREST

The house of Caius Muro had been built six years before on the
model of one owned by him in the Tuscan hills. Passing through
the hall or vestibule, with its mosaic pavement, on which was the
word of welcome, “Salve!” Beric entered the atrium, the principal
apartment in the house. From each side, at a height of some
twenty feet from the ground, extended a roof, the fall being
slightly to the centre, where there was an aperture of about
eight feet square. Through this light and air made their way down
to the apartment, the rainfall from the roofs and opening falling
into a marble tank, called the impluvium, below the level of the
floor, which was paved with squares of coloured marble. On either
side of the atrium were the small sleeping chambers, the bed
places being raised and covered with thick mats and rugs.

The walls of the bed chambers as well as of the atrium were
painted in black, with figures and landscapes in colour. On the
centre of the side facing the vestibule was the tablinum, the
apartment of Caius Muro himself. This formed his sitting room and
study. The floor was raised about a foot above that of the
atrium, and it was partly open both on that side and on the
other, looking into the peristylium, so that, while at work, he
commanded a view of all that was going on in the atrium and in
the courtyard. In the centre of this was a fountain surrounded by
plants. From the courtyard opened the triclinium, or dining room,
and also rooms used as storerooms, kitchen, and the sleeping
places of the slaves.

At the back of the peristylium was the oecus, or state
apartment, where Caius received distinguished guests, and where,
in the lifetime of Julia, entertainments were given to the ladies
of the colony. Like the triclinium, this room was also partially
open at both ends, affording the guests a view of the graceful
fountain on the one side and of the garden on the other. In
winter wooden frames, with heavy hangings, were erected across
these openings and that of the tablinum, for the Romans soon
found the necessity for modifying the arrangements which,
although well suited for an Italian climate, were wholly unfit
for that of Britain. The opening in the centre of the atrium was
then closed with an awning of oiled canvas, which admitted a
certain amount of light to pass, but prevented the passage of
rain and snow, and kept out much of the cold. There was a narrow
passage between the atrium and the peristylium; this was called
the fauces. Above the chambers round the atrium was a second
story, approached by a staircase from the peristylium; here were
the apartments of the ladies and of the female slaves.

As Beric entered the atrium, a man, who was reading a roll of
parchment, rose to his feet.

“Welcome, Beric!” he said warmly.

“All hail, preceptor!” the lad replied. “Are all well
here?”

“All well, Beric. We had looked to see you before, and
Berenice has been constantly asking me when you were coming.”

“I had been absent over four years, you see,” Beric replied,
“and it was not easy to get away from home again. Now I must
speak to Caius.” He crossed the apartment, and stood at the
entrance to the tablinum. Caius looked up from a military
treatise he was perusing.

“Ah, Beric! it is you! I am glad to see you again, though I am
sorry to observe that you have abandoned our fashions and taken
to the native garb again.”

“It was necessary, Caius,” Beric said. “I should have lost all
influence with the tribe had I not laid aside my Roman dress. As
it is, they regard me with some doubt, as one too enamoured of
Roman customs.”

“We have heard of you, Beric, and, indeed, report says that
you speak well of us, and are already famous for your relations
of our history.”

“I thought it well that my countrymen should know your great
deeds,” Beric said, “and should see by what means you have come
to rule the world. I received nought but kindness at your hands,
and no prisoner’s lot was ever made more easy than mine. To you
and yours I am deeply grateful. If your people all behaved as
kindly towards the natives of this country as you did to me,
Britain would be conquered without need of drawing sword from
scabbard.”

“I know not that, Beric; to rule, one should be strong as well
as kind. Still, as you know, I think that things might have been
arranged far less harshly than they have been. It was needful
that we should show ourselves to be masters; but I regret the
harshness that has been too often used, and I would that not one
of us here, from the governor down to the poorest soldier, was
influenced by a desire for gain, but that each was animated, as
he assuredly should be, only by a desire to uphold the glory and
power of Rome. But that would be expecting too much from human
nature, and even among you there are plenty ready to side against
their countrymen for the sake of Roman gold. In that they have
less excuse than we. Custom and habit have made our wants many,
and all aim at attaining the luxuries of the rich. On the other
hand, your wants are few, and I see not that the piling up of
wealth adds in any way to your happiness.”

“That is true, Caius. I quite agree with you that it is far
more excusable for a Roman to covet wealth than for a Briton; and
while I blame many officials and soldiers for the harshness with
which they strive to wring all their possessions from my
countrymen, I deem their conduct as worthy and honourable when
compared with that of Britons who sell their country for your
gold.”

“We must take the world as we find it, Beric. We may regret
that greed and the love of luxury should influence men, as we may
grieve that they are victims of other base passions; but it is of
no use quarrelling with human nature. Certain it is that all
vices bring their own punishment, and that the Romans were a far
nobler race when they were poor and simple, in the days of the
early consuls, than they are now, with all their power, their
riches, and their luxuries. Such is the history of all peoples–of
Egypt, of Persia, of Greece, and Carthage; and methinks that
Rome, too, will run the course of other nations, and that some
day, far distant maybe, she will sink beneath the weight of her
power and her luxury, and that some younger and more vigorous
people will, bit by bit, wrest her dominions from her and rule in
her place.

“As yet, happily, I see no signs of failing in her powers. She
is still vigorous, and even in the distant outskirts of the
empire the wave of conquest flows onward. Happily for us, I
think, it can flow no farther this way; there is but one island
beyond this to conquer, and then, as in Western Gaul and Iberia,
the ocean says to Rome, ‘Thou shalt go no farther.’ Would that to
the south, the east, and north a similar barrier checked our
progress, then we could rest and be content, and need no longer
waste our strength in fresh conquests, or in opposing the
incursions of hordes of barbarians from regions unknown to us
even by report. I could wish myself, Beric, that nature had
placed your island five days’ sail from the coasts of Gaul,
instead of placing it within sight. Then I might have been
enjoying life in my villa among the Tuscan hills with my
daughter, instead of being exposed at any moment to march with
the Legion against the savage mountaineers of the west. Ah! here
comes Berenice,” he broke off, as his daughter, attended by her
old nurse, entered the atrium from the vestibule. She hastened
her steps as she saw Beric standing before her father in the
tablinum.

“I knew you would come back, Beric, because you promised me;
but you have been a long time in keeping your word.”

“I am not my own master at home, any more than I was here,
Berenice,” he said, “and my mother would not hear before of my
leaving her. I have only come now for an hour’s visit, to see
that all goes well in this house, and to tell you that I had not
forgotten my promise; the next time I hope to pay a longer visit.
At daybreak tomorrow we have a party to hunt the wolves, which
have so multiplied as to become a danger in the forests of
late.”

“I should like to go out to see a wolf hunt, Beric.”

“I fear that would not be possible,” he said; “the woods are
thick and tangled, and we have to force our way through to get to
their lair.”

“But last winter they came close to the town, and I heard that
some came even into the streets.”

“Yes, they will do so when driven by hunger; but they were
hunting then and not being hunted. No, Berenice, I fear that your
wish to see a wolf hunt cannot be gratified; they are savage
beasts, and are great trouble and no loss to us. In winter they
carry off many children, and sometimes devour grown up people,
and in times of long snow have been known to attack large
parties, and, in spite of a stout resistance by the men, to
devour them. In summer they are only met singly, but in winter
they go in packs and kill numbers of our cattle.”

“I should like to go into the woods,” the girl said earnestly,
“I am tired of this town. My father says he will take me with him
some day when he goes west, but so far I have seen nothing except
this town and Verulamium, and the country was all just as it is
here, fields and cultivation. We could see the forests in the
distance, but that was all. My father says, that if we went west,
we should travel for miles through the forest and should sleep in
tents, but that we cannot do it till everything is quiet and
peaceful. Oh, Beric! I do wish the Britons would not be always
fighting.”

Beric smiled. “The British girls, Berenice, say they wish the
Romans would not be always fighting.”

“It is very troublesome,” she said pettishly. “I should like
everyone to be friends, and then there would be no need to have
so many soldiers in Britain, and perhaps the emperor would order
our legions home. Father says that we ought to look upon this as
home now, for that the legion may remain here for years and
years; but he said the other day that he thought that if
everything was quiet here he should, when I am sixteen years old,
obtain leave from the governor, and go back to Rome for two or
three years, and I think, though he has not said so outright,
that he will perhaps retire and settle there.”

“It would be much the best for you,” Beric said earnestly. “I
should be sorry, because you have been very kind to me, and I
should grieve were you to leave me altogether; but there may be
trouble here again some day, and I think it would be far better
for you to be back in Rome, where you would have all the
pleasures and delights of the great capital, and live in ease and
comfort, without the risk of your father having to march away to
the wars. I know that if I were your father I would take you
back. He says that his villa there is exactly like this, and you
have many relations there, and there must be all sorts of
pleasures and grand spectacles far beyond anything there is here.
I am sure it would be better for you, and happier.”

“I thought that you would be quite sorry,” she said
gravely.

“So I shall be very sorry for myself,” Beric said; “as, next
to my own mother, there is no one I care for so much as you and
your father. I shall miss you terribly; but yet I am so sure that
it would be best for you to be at home with your own people, that
I should be glad to hear that your father was going to take you
back to Rome.”

But Berenice did not altogether accept the explanation. She
felt really hurt that Beric should view even the possibility of
her going away with equanimity, and she very shortly went off to
her own apartment; while a few minutes later, Beric, after
bidding goodbye to Caius, started to rejoin Boduoc, whom he found
waiting at the edge of the forest.

That evening Berenice said to her father, “I was angry with
Beric today, father.”

“Were you, child? what about?”

“I told him that perhaps in another three years, when I was
sixteen, you would take me to Rome, and that I thought, perhaps,
if we went there you would not come back again; and instead of
being very much grieved, as I thought he would, he seemed quite
pleased at the idea. Of course he said he was sorry, but he did
not really seem to be, and he says he thought it would be very
much better for me. I thought he was grateful, father, and liked
us very much, and now I am quite disappointed in him.”

Caius was silent for a minute or two.

“I do not think Beric is ungrateful,” he said, “and I am sure
that he likes us, Berenice.”

“He said he did, father, that he cared for us more than anyone
except his mother; but if he cared for us, surely he would be
very, very sorry for us to go away.”

“Beric is a Briton, my dear, and we are Romans. By this time
he must have thoroughly learned his people’s feelings towards us.
I have never believed, as some do, that Britain is as yet
completely conquered, and that when we have finished with the
Silures in the west our work will be completely done.

“Beric, who knows his countrymen, may feel this even more
strongly than I do, and may know that, sooner or later, there
will be another great effort on the part of the Britons to drive
us out. It may be a year, and it may be twenty, but I believe
myself that some day we shall have a fierce struggle to maintain
our hold here, and Beric, who may see this also, and who knows
the feeling of his countrymen, may wish that we should be away
before the storm comes.

“There is but little doubt, Berenice, that we despise these
people too much, still less that we treat them harshly and
cruelly. Were I propraetor of Britain, I would rule them
differently. I am but the commander of a legion, and my duty is
but to rule my men. I would punish, and punish sternly, all
attempts at rising; but I would give them no causes for
discontent. We treat them as if their spirit were altogether
broken, as if they and their possessions were but our chattels,
as if they possessed no rights, not even the right to live. Some
day we shall find our mistake, and when the time comes the
awakening will be a rude one. It is partly because I see dimly
the storm gathering in the distance that I long to be home again.
As long as your mother lived this seemed a home to me, now I
desire rest and quiet. I have done my share of fighting, I have
won honour enough, and I may look before long to be a general;
but I have had enough of it, and long for my quiet villa in the
Alban hills, with an occasional visit to Rome, where you can take
part in its gaieties, and I can have the use of the libraries
stored with the learning of the world. So do not think harshly of
Beric, my child; he may see the distant storm more plainly than I
do. I am sure that he cares for us, and if he is glad at the news
that we are going, it is because he wishes us away and in safety
before the trouble comes.

“Nero has come to the imperial throne, and the men he is
sending hither are of a widely different stamp from the
lieutenants of Claudius. The latter knew that the Britons can
fight, and that, wild and untutored as they are, it needed all
the skill and courage of Ostorius and Vespasian to reduce them to
order. The newcomers regard them as slaves to be trampled upon,
robbed, and ill used as they choose. I am sure they will find
their mistake. As long as they deal only with the tribes
thoroughly subdued, the Trinobantes, the Cantii, the Belgae, and
the Dumnonii, all may be quiet; they dare not move. But the Iceni
and Brigantes, although they both have felt the weight of our
swords, are still partly independent, and if pressed too severely
will assuredly revolt, and if they give the signal all Britain
may be up in arms again. I am scoffed at if I venture to hint to
these newcomers that there is life yet in Britain. Dwelling here
in a Roman city, it seems to them absurd that there can be danger
from the savages who roam in the forests that stretch away from
beyond the river at our very feet to the far distant north, to
regions of which we are absolutely ignorant. I regard what Beric
has said as another warning.”

“But I thought that Beric was our friend, father, and you told
me you had heard that he was teaching his countrymen how great is
our history.”

“Beric is a Briton in the midst of Britons, child. He is a
partially tamed wolf cub, and had he been sent to Rome and
remained there he would have done credit to our teaching. He is
fond of study, and at the same time fond of arms; he might have
turned out a wise citizen or a valiant soldier. But this was not
done. He has gone back again among the wolves, and whatever his
feelings towards us personally may be, he must side with his own
people. Did they suspect him of being Roman at heart they would
tear him in pieces. I believe that as he knows our strength, and
that in the end we must conquer, his influence will always be on
the side of peace; but if arms are taken up he will have no
choice but to side with his countrymen, and should it be another
ten years before the cloud bursts, he may be one of our most
formidable opponents. Don’t blame him, child; he only shows his
regard for you, by wishing you back safely in Rome before trouble
arises.”

“You are just in time, Beric,” Boduoc said as the young chief
joined him. “The sun is but a hand’s breadth above that hill.
Here are your spear and sword where you hid them, though why you
should have done it I know not, seeing that they have not yet
ventured to order us to disarm.”

“And if they did we should not obey them, Boduoc; but as the
Trinobantes have long been forbidden to carry arms, it might have
caused trouble had I gone armed into the town, and we don’t want
trouble at present. I went on a peaceful visit, and there was no
occasion for me to carry my weapons. But give me a piece of that
deer flesh and an oaten cake; we have a long march before
us.”

“Why, did you not eat with them?”

“No. I was, of course, invited, but I had but a short time to
stop and did not wish it to seem as if I had come for a taste of
Roman dainties again.”

As soon as the meal was eaten they set out. It was but a track
through the forest, for although the trees had been cleared away
for a width of twenty feet there was but little traffic, for the
road was seldom traversed, save by an occasional messenger from
Prasutagus. It had been used by the legions at the time that
Ostorius had built a line of forts stretching from the Nen to the
Severn, and by it they had advanced when the Iceni had risen; but
from that time it had been unused by them, as the Iceni had paid
their tribute regularly, and held aloof from all hostile
movements against them. Prasutagus was always profuse in his
assurance of friendship towards Rome, and save that the Roman
officers visited his capital once a year to receive their
tribute, they troubled but little about the Iceni, having their
hands occupied by their wars in the south and west, while their
main road to the north ran far to the west of Camalodunum.

“We shall arrive about midnight,” Beric said as they strode
along.

“We may or we may not,” Boduoc said curtly.

“What is to prevent us, Boduoc?”

“Well, the wolves may prevent us, Beric; we heard them howling
several times as we came along this morning. The rapacious brutes
have not been so bold for years, and it is high time that we
hunted them down, or at any rate made our part of the country too
hot to hold them. I told Borgon before I started that if we did
not return by an hour after midnight it would be because we had
been obliged to take to a tree, and that he had better bring out
a party at the first break of day to rescue us.”

“But we have never had any trouble of that kind while we have
been hunting, Boduoc.”

“No; but I think there must have been some great hunts up in
Norfolk, and that the brutes have come south. Certain it is that
there have in the last week been great complaints of them, and,
as you know, it was for that reason that your mother ordered all
the men of the tribe to assemble by tomorrow morning to make war
against them. The people in the farms and villages are afraid to
stay out after nightfall. No man with arms in his hands fears a
wolf, or even two or three of them, in the daytime; but when they
are in packs they are formidable assailants, even to a strong
party. Things are getting as bad now as they were twenty years
ago. My father has told me that during one hard winter they
destroyed full half our herds, and that hundreds of people were
devoured by them. They had to erect stockades round the villages
and drive in all the cattle, and half the men kept guard by
turns, keeping great fires alight to frighten them away. When we
have cleared the land of those two legged wolves the Romans, we
shall have to make a general war upon them, for truly they are
becoming a perfect scourge to the land. It is not like the wild
boar, of which there might with advantage be more, for they do
but little harm, getting their food for the most part in the
woods, and furnishing us with good eating as well as good sport.
But the wolves give us nothing in return, and save for the sport
no one would trouble to hunt them; and it is only by a general
order for their destruction, or by the offer of a reward for
their heads, that we shall get rid of them.”

“Well, let us press on, Boduoc. I would not that anything
should occur to prevent us starting with the rest in the
morning.”

“We are walking a good pace now,” Boduoc said, “and shall gain
but little by going faster. One cannot run for six hours; and
besides it is as much as we can do to walk fast in the dark. Did
we try to run we should like enough fall over a stump or root,
and maybe not arrive there even though the wolves stopped us
not.”

For two hours more they strode along. Boduoc’s eyes had been
trained by many a long night spent among the woods, and dark as
it was beneath the overarching trees, he was able to discern
objects around him, and kept along in his regular stride as
surely and almost as noiselessly as a wild beast; but the four
years spent in the Roman town had impaired Beric’s nocturnal
vision; and though he had done much hunting since his return
home, he was far from being able to use his eyes as his companion
did, and he more than once stumbled over the roots that crossed
the path.

“You will be on your head presently,” Boduoc growled.

“It is all very well for you, Boduoc, who have the eyes of a
cat; but you must remember we are travelling in the dark, and
although I can make out the trunks on either hand the ground is
all black to me, and I am walking quite at hazard.”

“It is not what I should call a light night,” Boduoc
admitted.

“Well, no, considering that there is no moon, and that the
clouds that were rising when the sun went down have overspread
all the sky. I don’t see that it could well be darker.”

“Well we will stop at that hut in the little clearing,
somewhere about half a mile on, and get a couple of torches. If
you were to fall and twist your foot you would not be able to
hunt tomorrow.”

“What is that?” Beric exclaimed as a distant cry came to their
ears.

“I think it is the voice of a woman,” Boduoc said. “Or maybe
it is one of the spirits of evil.”

Beric during his stay among the Romans had lost faith in most
of his superstitions. “Nonsense, Boduoc! it was the cry of a
woman; it came from ahead. Maybe some woman returning late has
been attacked by wolves. Come along,” he shouted, and he started
to run, followed reluctantly by his companion.

“Stop, Beric, stop!” he said in a short time, “I hear other
sounds.”

“So do I,” Beric agreed, but without checking his pace. “My
eyes may be dull, Boduoc, but they are not so dull as your ears.
Why, don’t you know the snarling of wolves when you hear
them?”

Again the loud cry of distress came on the night air. “They
have not seized her yet,” Beric said. “Her first cry would have
been her last had they done so. She must be in that hut, Boduoc,
and they are trying to get at her. Maybe her husband is
away.”

“It is wolves,” Boduoc agreed in a tone of relief. “Since that
is all I am ready for them; but sword and spear are of no avail
against the spirits of the air. We must be careful though, or
instead of us attacking we may be attacked.”

Beric paid no attention. They had as they passed the hut that
morning stopped for a drink of water there, and he saw now before
his eyes the tall comely young woman with a baby in her arms and
two children hanging to her skirts. In a short time they stood at
the edge of the little clearing by the side of the path. It was
lighter here, and he could make out the outline of the rude hut,
and, as he thought, that of many dark figures moving round it. A
fierce growling and snarling rose from around the hut, with once
or twice a sharp yell of pain.

“There are half a dozen of them on the roof,” Boduoc said,
“and a score or more round the hut. At present they haven’t
winded us, for the air is in our faces.”

“I think we had best make a rush at them, Boduoc, shouting at
the top of our voices as we go, and bidding the woman stand in
readiness to unbar the door. They will be scared for a moment,
not knowing how many of us there may be, and once inside we shall
be safe from them.”

“Let us get as near as we can before we begin to shout, Beric.
They may run back a few paces at our voice, but will speedily
rally.”

Holding their spears in readiness for action they ran forward.
When within thirty yards of the hut Boduoc raised his voice in a
wild yell, Beric adding his cry and then shouting, “Unbar your
door and stand to close it as we enter.”

There was, however, no occasion for haste. Boduoc’s sudden
yell completely scared the wolves, and with whimpers of dismay
they scattered in all directions. The door opened as Beric and
his companion came up, and they rushed in and closed it after
them. A fire burned on the hearth. A dead wolf lay on the ground,
the children crouched in terror on a pile of rushes, and a woman
stood with a spear in her hand.

“Thanks to our country’s gods you have come!” she said. “A few
minutes later and all would have been over with me and my
children. See, one has already made his way through the roof, and
in half a dozen places they have scratched holes well nigh large
enough to pass through.”

“We heard your cry,” Beric said, “and hastened forward at the
top of our speed.”

“It was for you that I called,” the woman said. “By what you
said this morning I judged you would be returning about this
hour, and it was in hopes you might hear me that I cried out, for
I knew well that no one else would be likely to be within
earshot.”

“Where is your husband?” Beric asked.

“He started this afternoon for Cardun. He and all the able
bodied men were ordered to assemble there tonight in readiness to
begin the war against the wolves at daybreak. There is no other
house within a mile, and even had they heard me there they could
have given me no assistance, seeing there are but women and
children remaining behind.”

“They are coming again,” Boduoc broke in; “I can hear their
feet pattering on the dead leaves. Which shall we do, Beric, pile
more wood on the fire, or let it go out altogether? I think that
we shall do better without it; it is from the roof that they will
attack, and if we have a light here we cannot see them till they
are ready to leap down; whereas, if we are in darkness we may be
able to make them out when they approach the holes, or as they
pass over any of the crevices.”

“I don’t know, Boduoc; I think we shall do better if we have
light. We may not make them out so well, but at least we can use
our spears better than we could in the dark, when we might strike
them against the rafters or thick branches.”

The woman at once gathered some of the pieces of wood that had
fallen through as the wolves made the holes and put them on the
hearth, where they soon blazed up brightly.

“I will take this big hole,” Boduoc said, “it is the only one
by which they can come down at present. Do you try and prevent
them from enlarging any of the others.”

There was a sudden thump overhead, followed almost immediately
by several others.

“They get up by the wood pile,” the woman said. “It is against
that side of the hut, and reaches nearly up to the eaves.

There was a sharp yell as Boduoc thrust his spear up through
the hole when he saw a pair of eyes, shining in the firelight,
appear at the edge. At the same moment there was a sound of
scraping and scratching at some of the other holes. The roof was
constructed of rough poles laid at short distances apart, and
above these were small branches, on which was a sort of thatch of
reeds and rushes. Standing close under one of the holes Beric
could see nothing, but from the sound of the scratching he could
tell from which side the wolf was at work enlarging it. He
carefully thrust the point of his spear through the branches and
gave a sudden lunge upwards. A fierce yell was heard, followed by
the sound of a body rolling down the roof, and then a struggle
accompanied by angry snarling and growling outside.

“That is one less, Beric,” Boduoc said. “I fancy I only
scratched mine. Ah!” he exclaimed suddenly, as without the least
warning a wolf sprang down through the hole. Before it could
gather its legs under it for a fresh spring Beric and the woman
both thrust their spears deeply into it, Boduoc keeping his eyes
fixed on the hole, and making a lunge as another wolf peered down
in readiness to spring after the one that had entered.

For hours the fight went on. Gradually the holes, in spite of
the efforts of the defenders, were enlarged, and the position
became more and more critical. At least twenty of the wolves were
slain; but as the attack was kept up as vigorously as at first,
it was evident that fresh reinforcements had arrived to the
assailants.

“We cannot keep them out much longer, Beric,” Boduoc said at
last. “It seems to me that our only plan is to fire the hut, and
then, each taking a child, to make a rush across to the trees and
climb them. The sudden burst of fire will drive them back for a
little, and we may make good our retreat to the trees.”

“What time is it, think you, Boduoc?”

“It must be two or three hours past midnight, and if Borgon
carried out my instructions help ought to be near at hand. I
would that we could let them know of our peril.”

“There is a cow horn,” the woman said, pointing to the corner
of the hut. “My husband uses it for calling in the cattle.”

Boduoc seized the horn and blew a deep hollow blast upon it.
There was a sudden pattering of feet overhead and then
silence.

“That has scared them,” Beric said. “Blow again, Boduoc; if we
can but gain half an hour our friends may be up.”

Again and again the hoarse roar of the cow horn rose, but the
wolves speedily recovered from their scare and crowded on the
roof.

“We can’t hold out much longer,” Beric said, as two wolves
that leapt down together had just been despatched. “Get a brand
from the fire.” At this moment there was a sudden scuffle
overhead, and the three defenders stood, spear in hand, ready to
repel a fresh attack; but all was quiet; then a loud shout rose
on the air.

“Thank the gods, here they are!” Boduoc said. He listened a
moment, but all was still round the hut; then he threw the door
open as a score of men with lighted torches came running towards
it, and raised a shout of satisfaction as the light fell upon
Beric.

“Thanks for your aid, my friends!” he said as they crowded
round him; “never was a shout more welcome than yours. You were
just in time, as you may see by looking at the roof. We were
about to fire it and make for the trees, though I doubt if one of
us would have reached them.”

As the men entered the hut and looked at the ragged holes in
the roof and the bodies of nine wolves stretched on the ground,
they saw that they had, indeed, arrived only just in time. Among
the rescuing party was the man to whom the hut belonged, whose
joy at finding his wife and children unhurt was great indeed; and
he poured forth his thanks to Beric and Boduoc when he learned
from his wife that they had voluntarily abandoned the wood, where
they could have been secure in the shelter of a tree, in order to
assist her in defending the hut against the wolves.

“You must all come with us,” Beric said; “the wolves may
return after we have gone. When our hunt is over I will send some
men to help you to repair your roof. Where are the cattle?”

“They are safe in a stockade at the next village,” the man
said. “We finished it only yesterday, and drove in all the cattle
from the forests, and collected great quantities of wood so that
the women might keep up great bonfires if the wolves tried to
break in.”

A few minutes later the party started on their return. As they
walked they could sometimes hear the pattering of footsteps on
the falling leaves, but the torches deterred the animals from
making an attack, and after three hours’ walking they arrived at
Cardun. The village stood on a knoll rising from swamps, through
which a branch of the Stour wound its way sluggishly. Round the
crest of the knoll ran two steep earthen banks, one rising behind
the other, and in the inclosed space, some eight acres in extent,
stood the village. The contrast between it and the Roman city but
two-and-twenty miles away was striking. No great advance had been
made upon the homes that the people had occupied in Gaul before
their emigration. In the centre stood Parta’s abode,
distinguished from the rest only by its superior size. The walls
were of mud and stone, the roof high, so as to let the water run
more easily off the rough thatching. It contained but one central
hall surrounded by half a dozen small apartments.

The huts of the people consisted but of a single room, with a
hole in the roof by which the smoke of the fire in the centre
made its way out. The doorway was generally closed by a wattle
secured by a bar. When this was closed light only found its way
into the room through the chinks of the wattle and the hole in
the roof. In winter, for extra warmth, a skin was hung before the
door. Beyond piles of hides, which served as seats by day and
beds at night, there was no furniture whatever in the rooms, save
a few earthen cooking pots.

Parta’s abode, however, was more sumptuously furnished. Across
one end ran a sort of dais of beaten earth, raised a foot above
the rest of the floor. This was thickly strewn with fresh rushes,
and there was a rough table and benches. The walls of the
apartment were hidden by skins, principally those of wolves.

The fireplace was in the centre of the lower part of the hall,
and arranged on a shelf against the wall were cooking pots of
iron and brass; while on a similar shelf on the wall above the
dais were jugs and drinking vessels of gold. Hams of wild boar
and swine hung from the rafters, where too were suspended wild
duck and fish, and other articles of food. Parta’s own apartment
led from the back of the dais. That of Beric was next to it, its
separate use having been granted to him on his return from
Camalodunum, not without some scoffing remarks upon his
effeminacy in requiring a separate apartment, instead of sleeping
as usual on the dais; while the followers and attendants
stretched themselves on the floor of the hall.

CHAPTER
III: A WOLF HUNT

Shouts of welcome saluted Beric as with his party he crossed
the rough bridge over the stream and descended the slope to the
village. Some fifteen hundred men were gathered here, all armed
for the chase with spears, javelins, and long knives. Their hair
fell over their necks, their faces were, according to the
universal custom, shaved with the exception of the moustache.
Many of them were tattooed–a custom that at one time had been
universal, but was now dying out among the more civilized. Most
of them were, save for the mantle, naked from the waist up, the
body being stained a deep blue with woad–a plant largely
cultivated for its dye. This plant, known as Isatis tinctoria, is
still grown in France and Flanders. It requires rich ground and
grows to a height of three or four feet, bearing yellow flowers.
The dye is obtained from the leaves, which are stripped two or
three times in the season. They are partially dried, and are then
pounded or ground, pressed into a mass with the hands or feet,
and piled in a heap, when fermentation takes place. When this
process is completed the paste is cut up, and when placed in
water yields a blue dye. It can also be prepared by laying it in
the water in the first place and allowing it to ferment there.
The water, which becomes a deep blue, is drawn off and allowed to
settle, the dye remaining at the bottom. Fresh water is then
added to the leaves, which are again stirred up and the operation
is repeated.

Passing through the crowd of tribesmen, Beric entered his
mother’s abode, walked up to the dais, and saluted her by a deep
bow. Parta was a woman of tall stature and of robust form. Her
garment was fastened at each shoulder by a gold brooch. A belt
studded and clasped by the same metal girded it in at the waist,
and it then fell in loose folds almost to her feet. She had heavy
gold bracelets on her arms.

“You are late, Beric,” she said sternly. “Our tribesmen have
been waiting nigh an hour for you. I only heard at daybreak that
Borgon had gone out to search for you with a party.”

“It was well that he did, mother, for Boduoc and I were
besieged in a hut by a pack of wolves, who would shortly have
made an end of us had not rescue arrived.”

“What were you doing in the hut?” she asked. “You told me you
should leave the Romans’ town before sunset and make your way
straight back here.”

Beric shortly related the circumstances of the fight.

“It is well that it is no worse,” she said; “but Boduoc ought
to have known better than to have allowed you to leave the trees,
where you would at least have been safe from the wolves. What
mattered the life of a woman in comparison to yours, when you
know my hopes and plans for you? But stay not talking. Magartha
has some roasted kid in readiness for you. Eat it quickly, and
take a horn of mead, and be gone. An hour has been wasted
already.”

A few minutes sufficed for Beric to satisfy his hunger. Then
he went out and joined two or three minor chiefs of experience
who had charge of the hunt. The greater portion of the tribesmen
had already started. Almost every man had brought with him one or
more large dogs trained in hunting the wolf and boar, and the
woods beyond the swamp rang with their deep barking. Instructions
had already been given to the men. These proceeded in parties of
four, each group taking its post some fifty yards from the next.
Those who had the farthest to go had started before daybreak, and
it was another two hours before the whole were in position,
forming a long line through the forest upwards of ten miles in
length. A horn was sounded in the centre where the leaders had
posted themselves, and the signal was repeated at points along
the line, and then, with shouts on the part of the men and fierce
barkings on that of the dogs, the whole moved forward. The right
of the line rested on the Stour, the left upon the Orwell; and as
they passed along through the forest the line contracted. At
times wild boars made a dash to break through it. Many of these
were slain, till the chiefs considered that there was a
sufficient supply of food, and the rest were then allowed to pass
through.

No wolves were seen until they neared the point where the two
rivers unite, by which time the groups were within a few paces of
each other. Then among the trees in front of them a fierce
snarling and yelping was heard. The dogs, which had hitherto been
kept in hand, were now loosed, and with a shout the men rushed
forward both on the bluffs in the centre and along the low land
skirting the rivers on either side. Soon the wolves came pouring
down from the wooded bluff, and engaged in a furious conflict
with the dogs. As the men ran up, a few of the wolves in their
desperation charged them and endeavoured to break through, but
the great majority, cowed by the clamour and fierce assault,
crouched to the earth and received their death blow
unresistingly. Some took to the water, but coracles had been sent
down to the point the evening before, and they were speedily
slain. Altogether some four or five hundred wolves were
killed.

It was now late in the afternoon. Wood was collected and great
fires made, and the boars’ flesh was soon roasting over them. At
daybreak they started again, and retracing their steps formed a
fresh line at the point where the last beat had begun, this time
beating in a great semicircle and driving the wolves down on to
the Stour. So for a fortnight the war went on. Only such deer and
boar as were required for food were killed; but the wolves were
slain without mercy, and at the end of the operations that
portion of the country was completely cleared of these savage
beasts, for those who had escaped the beating parties had fled
far away through the forest to more quiet quarters.

The work had been laborious; for each day some forty miles had
been traversed in the march from the last place of slaughter to
the next beat, and in the subsequent proceedings. It had,
however, been full of interest and excitement, especially during
the second week, when, having cleared all the country in the
neighbourhood of the rivers, the men were ranged in wide circles
some ten miles in diameter, advancing gradually towards a centre.
Occasionally many of the wolves escaped before the lines had
narrowed sufficiently for the men to be near enough to each other
to oppose a successful resistance, but in each case the majority
continued to slink from the approaching noises until the cordon
was too close for them to break through.

Altogether over four thousand wolves were slain. All those
whose coats were in good condition were skinned, the skins being
valuable for linings to the huts, for beds, and winter mantles.
Many men had been bitten more or less severely by them, but none
had been killed; and there was much rejoicing at the complete
clearance from the district of a foe that had, since the arrival
of the large packs from the north, made terrible inroads among
the herds of cattle and swine, and had killed a considerable
number of men, women, and children. The previous winter had been
a very severe one, and had driven great numbers of wolves down
from North Britain. The fighting that had been going on for years
in the south and west, and at times in the midlands, had put a
stop to the usual chases of wolves in those districts, and they
had consequently multiplied exceedingly and had become a serious
scourge even before the arrival of the fresh bands from the
north. However, after so great a slaughter it was hoped that for
a time at least they would not again make their appearance in
that neighbourhood.

Returning home at the end of their expedition Beric was
surprised as he entered the hall to see a Druid standing upon the
dais conversing with his mother, who was pacing up and down with
angry gestures. That their conference was an important one he did
not doubt; for the Druids dwelt in the recesses of the forests or
near their temples, and those who wished to consult them must
journey to them to ask their counsel beneath a sacred oak or in
the circle of the magic stones. When great events were impending,
or when tribes took up arms against each other, the Druids would
leave their forest abodes, and, interposing between the
combatants, authoritatively bid them desist. They acted as
mediators between great chiefs, and were judges upon all matters
in dispute. He was sure, therefore, that the Druid was the bearer
of news of importance. He stood waiting in the centre of the hall
until his mother’s eye fell upon him.

“Come hither, Beric,” she said, “and hear the news that the
holy Druid has brought. Think you not that the Romans have
carried their oppression far enough when they have seized half
the land of our island, enslaved the people, and exacted tribute
from the free Britons? What think you, now? The Roman governor
Severus, knowing that it is our religion as well as love of our
country that arms us against them, and that the Druids ever raise
their voices to bid us defend our altars and our homes, have
resolved upon an expedition against the Sacred Island, and have
determined to exterminate our priests, to break down our altars,
and to destroy our religion. Ten days since the legion marched
from Camalodunum to join the army he is assembling in the west.
From all other parts he has drawn soldiers, and he has declared
his intention of rooting out and destroying our religion at its
centre.”

“The news is terrible,” the Druid said, “but our gods will
fight for us, and doubtless a terrible destruction will fall upon
the impious men who thus dream of profaning the Sacred Island;
but it may be otherwise, or perchance the gods may see that thus,
and thus only, can the people of Britain be stirred to take up
arms and to annihilate the worshippers of the false gods of Rome.
Assuredly we are on the eve of great events, and every Briton
must prepare to take up arms, either to fall upon the legions
whom our gods have stricken or to avenge the insult offered to
our faith.”

“It is terrible news, indeed,” Beric said; “and though I am
but a lad, father, I am ready when the call comes to fight in the
front ranks of the Iceni with our people. My father fell fighting
for his country by the sword of the Romans, and I am ready to
follow his example when my mother shall say, ‘Go out to
war.'”

“For the present, Beric, we must remain quiet; we must await
news of the result of this expedition; but the word has gone
round, and I and my brethren are to visit every chief of the
Iceni, while the Druids of the north stir up the Brigantes; the
news, too, that the time of their deliverance is at hand, and
that they must hold themselves in readiness to rise against the
oppressors, is passing through the Trinobantes and the tribes of
the south and southwest. This time it must be no partial rising,
and we must avoid the ruinous error of matching a single tribe
against the whole strength of the Romans. It must be Britain
against Rome–a whole people struggling for their homes and
altars against those who would destroy their religion and reduce
them to slavery.”

“I would that it could have been postponed for a time,
father,” Beric said. “During the four years I passed as a hostage
at Camalodunum I have been learning the tactics that have enabled
the Romans to conquer us. I have learned their words of command,
and how the movements were executed, and I hope when I become a
man to train the Sarci to fight in solid order, to wheel and turn
as do the Romans, so that we might form a band which might in the
day of battle oppose itself to the Roman onset, check pursuit,
and perhaps convert a reverse into a victory.”

“Heed not that,” the Druid said enthusiastically. “It would be
useful indeed, but there is but scant time for it now. Our gods
will fight for us. We have numbers and valour. Our warriors will
sweep their soldiers aside as a wave dashes over a rock.”

The conversation between the Druid and Parta had been heard by
others in the hall, and the news spread rapidly among the
tribesmen as they returned from the chase. Shouts of fury and
indignation rose outside, and several of the minor chiefs,
followed by a crowd of excited men, poured into the hall,
demanding with loud shouts that war should be declared against
the Romans. The Druid advanced to the edge of the dais.

“Children,” he said, “the time has not yet come, nor can the
Sarci do aught until the word is given by Prasutagus, and the
whole of the Iceni rise in arms, and not the Iceni alone, but
Britons from sea to sea. Till then hold yourselves in readiness.
Sharpen your arms and prepare for the contest. But you need a
chief. In the ordinary course of things years would have elapsed
before Beric, the son of your last brave prince, would have been
associated with his mother in the rule of the tribe; but on the
eve of such a struggle ordinary customs and usages must be set at
nought. I therefore, in virtue of my sacred authority, now
appoint Beric as chief next to his mother in the tribe, and I bid
you obey him in all things relating to war. He has learned much
of Roman ways and methods, and is thus better fitted than many
far older than he to instruct you how best to stand their onset,
and I prophesy that under him no small honour and glory will fall
to the tribe, and that they will bear a signal share in avenging
our gods and winning our freedom. Come hither, Beric;” and the
Druid, laying a hand upon the lad’s head, raised the other to
heaven and implored the gods to bestow wisdom and strength upon
him, and to raise in him a mighty champion of his country and
faith. Then he uttered a terrible malediction upon any who should
disobey Beric’s orders, or question his authority, who should
show faint heart in the day of battle, or hold his life of any
account in the cause of his country.

“Now,” he concluded, “retire to your homes. We must give no
cause or pretext for Roman aggression until the signal is given.
You will not be idle. Your young chief will teach you somewhat of
the discipline that has rendered the Roman soldiers so
formidable, so that you may know how to set yourselves in the day
of battle, how to oppose rank to rank, to draw off in good order,
or to press forward to victory. The issue is ever in the hands of
the gods, but we should do all we can to deserve it. It is good
to learn even from our enemies. They have studied war for ages,
and if they have conquered brave peoples, it has not been by
superior valour, but because they have studied war, while others
have trusted solely to their native valour. Therefore deem not
instruction useless, or despise methods simply because you do not
understand them. None could be braver than those who fought under
Caractacus, yet they were conquered, not by the valour, but by
the discipline of the Romans. It was the will of the gods that
your young chief should dwell for four years a hostage among the
Romans, and doubtless they willed it should be so in order that
he might be fitted to be a worthy champion of his country, and so
to effect what even the valour of Caractacus failed to do. The
gods have spoken by me. See that you obey them, and woe to the
wretch who murmurs even in his own heart against their
decrees!”

As he concluded a loud shout was raised throughout the crowded
hall, and swelled into a mighty roar outside, for those at the
open door had passed his words to the throng of tribesmen
outside. When the shout subsided, Beric added a few words,
saying, that although he regretted he had not yet come to his
full strength, and that thus early he should be called upon to
lead men, he accepted the decree of the gods, and would strive
not to be wanting in the day of trial. In matters connected with
war he had learned much from the Romans, who, oppressors as they
were and despisers of the gods of Britain, were skilled beyond
all others in such matters. In all other respects he had happily
his mother’s counsel and guidance to depend upon, and before
assuming any civil authority he should wait until years had
taught him wisdom, and should then go through all the usual
ceremonies appointed by their religion, and receive his
instalment solemnly in the temple at the hands of the Druids.

That night there was high feasting at Cardun. A bullock and
three swine were slain by order of Parta, and a number of great
earthen jars of mead broached, and while the principal men of the
tribe feasted in the hall, the rest made merry outside. The bard
attached to Parta’s household sang tales of the glories of the
tribe, even the women from the villages and detached huts for a
large circle round came in, happy that, now the wolves had been
cleared away, they could stir out after nightfall without fear.
After entertaining their guests in the hall, Parta and her son
went round among the tribesmen outside and saw that they had all
they needed, and spoke pleasantly even to the poorest among
them.

It was long before Beric closed his eyes that night. The
events of the day had been a complete surprise to him. He had
thought that in the distant future he should share with his
mother in the ruling of the tribe, but had never once dreamed of
its coming for years. Had it not been for the news that they had
heard of the intended invasion of the Holy Isle he should not
have regretted his elevation, for it would have given him the
means and opportunity to train the tribesmen to fight in close
order as did the Romans. But now he could not hope that there
would be time to carry this out effectually. He knew that
throughout Britain the feeling of rage and indignation at this
outrage upon the gods of their country would raise the passions
of men to boiling point, and that the slightest incident would
suffice to bring on a general explosion, and he greatly feared
that the result of such a rising would in the end be
disastrous.

His reading had shown him how great was the power of Rome, and
how obstinately she clung to her conquests. His countrymen seemed
to think that were they, with a mighty effort, to free Britain of
its invaders, their freedom would be achieved; but he knew that
such a disaster would arouse the Roman pride, and that however
great the effort required, fresh armies would be despatched to
avenge the disaster and to regain the territory lost.

“The Britons know nothing of Roman power,” he said to himself.
“They see but twenty or thirty thousand men here, and they forget
that that number have alone been sent because they were
sufficient for the work, and that Rome could, if need be,
despatch five times as many men. With time to teach the people,
not of the Sarci tribe only, but all the Iceni, to fight in solid
masses, and to bear the brunt of the battle, while the rest of
the tribes attacked furiously on all sides, we might hope for
victory; but fighting without order or regularity, each man for
himself, cannot hope to prevail against their solid mass.

“If I could have gained a name before the time came, so that
my voice might have had weight and power in the councils of the
chiefs, I might have done something. As it is, I fear that a
rising now will bring ruin and slavery upon all Britain.”

Beric thought but little of himself, or of the personal danger
he should encounter. The Britons were careless of their lives.
They believed implicitly in a future life, and that those who
fell fighting bravely for their country would meet with reward
hereafter; hence, as among the Gauls, cowardice was an almost
unknown vice.

Beric had faith in the gods of his country, while he had none
whatever in those of Rome, and wondered how a mighty people could
believe in such deities; but, unlike the Britons in general, he
did not believe that the gods interfered to decide the fate of
battles.

He saw that the Romans, with their false gods, had conquered
all other nations, and that so far they had uniformly triumphed
over his own. Therefore, mighty as he believed the gods to be, he
thought that they concerned themselves but little in the affairs
of the world, and that battles were to be won solely by valour,
discipline, and numbers. Numbers and valour the British had, but
of discipline they were absolutely ignorant, and it was this that
gave so tremendous an advantage to the Romans. Hence Beric felt
none of the exultation and excitement that most British lads of
his age would have done on attaining to rank and command in the
tribe to which they belonged.

The Britons despised the Romans as much for their belief in
many gods as for their luxury, and what they considered their
effeminacy. The religion of the Britons was a pure one, though
disfigured by the offering of human sacrifices. They believed in
one great Supreme Spirit, whose power pervaded everything. They
thought of him less as an absolute being than as a pervading
influence. They worshipped him everywhere, in the forests and in
the streams, in the sky and heavenly bodies. Through the Druids
they consulted him in all their undertakings. If the answer was
favourable, they followed it; if unfavourable, they endeavoured
to change it by sacrifices and offerings to the priests. They
believed firmly in a life after death, when they held that the
souls of all brave and good men and women would be transported at
once to an island far out in the Atlantic, which they called the
Happy Island. The highest places would be theirs who had fought
valiantly and died in battle; but there was room for all, and all
would be happy. Holding this idea firmly, the Britons sought
rather than avoided death. Their lives in their separate tribes
were quiet and simple, except when engaged in the chase or war.
They were averse to labour. They were domestic, virtuous, frank,
and straightforward. The personal property of a stranger was
sacred among them, and the most lavish hospitality was exercised.
It was not strange that a simple hardy people, believing firmly
in the one supreme god, should have regarded with contempt alike
the luxury of the Romans and their worship of many gods in the
likenesses of men and women, and that the more Beric had seen of
the learning and wisdom of the Romans in other directions, the
more he should wonder that such a people should be slaves to what
seemed to him childish superstitions.

The next morning, after a consultation with some of the minor
chiefs, a hundred men were summoned to attend on the following
day. They were picked out from families where there were two or
more males of working age, so that there would be as little
disturbance of labour as possible. It was principally in
companies of a hundred that Beric had seen the Romans exercised,
and he had learned every order by heart from first to last. The
manoeuvres to be taught were not of a complicated nature. To form
in fighting order six deep, and to move in column, were the
principal points; but when the next day the band assembled, Beric
was surprised and vexed to find that the operations were vastly
more difficult than he expected. To begin with, every man was to
have his place in the line, and the tribesmen, though eager to
learn, and anxious to please their young chief, could not see
that it mattered in what order they stood. When, however, having
arranged them at first in a line two deep, Beric proceeded to
explain how the spears were to be held, and in what order the
movements were to be performed,–the exercise answering to the
manual and platoon of modern days,–the tribesmen were unable
to restrain their laughter. What difference could it make whether
the hands were two feet apart or three, whether the spears were
held upright or sloped, whether they came down to the charge one
after another or all together? To men absolutely unaccustomed to
order of any kind, but used only to fight each in the way that
suited him best, these details appeared absolutely ludicrous.

Beric was obliged to stop and harangue them, pointing out to
them that it was just these little things that gave the Romans
their fighting power; that it was because the whole company moved
as one man, and fought as one man, each knowing his place and
falling into it, however great the confusion, however sudden the
alarm, that made them what they were.

“Why do they conquer you?” he said. “Chiefly because you can
never throw them into confusion. Charge down upon them and break
them, and they at once reunite and a solid wall opposes your
scattered efforts. You know how cattle, when wolves attack them,
gather in a circle with their horns outwards, and so keep at bay
those who could pull them down and rend them separately. At
present it seems ridiculous to you that every position of the
hand, every movement of the arm, should be done by rule; but when
you have practised them these will become a second nature; so
with your other movements. It seems folly to you to do with
measured steps what it seems you could do far more quickly by
running together hastily; but it is not so. The slowest movement
is really the quickest, and it has the advantage that no one is
hurried, that everything is done steadily and regularly, and that
even in the greatest heat and confusion of a battle every man
takes his place, as calm and ready to fight as if no foe were in
sight. Now let us try this again. At the end of the day I shall
pick out some of those who are quickest and most attentive, and
make of them officers under me. They will have more work to do,
for they will have to understand and teach my orders, but also
they will gain more honour and credit.”

For hours the drill went on; then they broke off for dinner
and again worked until evening, and by that time had made
sufficient progress in their simple movements to begin to feel
that there was after all something more in it than they had
fancied. For the first hour it had seemed to them a sort of
joke–a mere freak on the part of their young chief; but they were
themselves surprised to find by the end of the day how rapidly
they were able to change from their rank two deep into the solid
formation, and how their spears rose and fell together at the
order. Beric bade them by the next morning provide themselves
with spears six feet longer. Britons were more accustomed to
fight with javelin than with spear, and the latter weapons were
shorter and lighter than those of the Romans. Beric felt that the
advantage should be the other way, for the small shields carried
by the Britons were inferior as defensive weapons to those of the
Romans, and to preserve the balance it was necessary therefore to
have longer spears; the more so since the Britons were taller,
and far more powerful men than their foes, and should therefore
be able, with practice, to use longer weapons.

The next day Beric chose Boduoc as his second in command, and
appointed ten men sub-officers or sergeants. After a week of
almost incessant work that would have exhausted men less hardy
and vigorous, Beric was satisfied. The company had now come to
take great interest in their work, and were able to go through
their exercises with a fair show of regularity. Even the older
chiefs, who had at first shaken their heads as they looked on,
acknowledged that there was a great deal to be gained from the
exercises. Parta was delighted. It was she who had foreseen the
advantages that might be derived from Beric’s stay among the
Romans, and she entered heartily into his plans, ordering the men
engaged to be fed from the produce of her flocks and herds.

When the week was over two hundred more men were summoned, a
sufficient number of the brightest and most intelligent of the
first company being chosen as their sub- officers. Before the
drill commenced, however, the first company were put through
their exercises in order that the newcomers might see what was
expected of them, and how much could be done. This time several
of the chiefs joined the companies in order that they might learn
the words of command and be fitted to lead. This greatly
encouraged Beric, who had foreseen that while he himself could
command a company, he could do nothing towards controlling ten or
fifteen companies unless these had each officers of rank and
influence enough to control them.

The exercises after the first company had been drilled were
carried on in the forest some miles away from the village, the
men assembling there and camping beneath the trees, so that no
rumour of gatherings or preparations for war should reach the
Romans, although at present these were not in a position to make
any eruption from Camalodunum, as the greater portion of the
legionaries had marched with Suetonius.

Returning one day to Cardun with Boduoc, Beric was surprised
to hear loud cries of lamentation. The women were running about
with dishevelled hair and disordered garments. Fearful that
something might have happened to his mother, he hurried on to the
hall. Parta was sitting on the ground rocking herself to and fro
in her grief, while the women were assembled round her uttering
cries of anguish.

“What is the matter?” Beric asked as he hurried forward. The
bard stepped forward to answer the question.

“My son,” he said, “misfortune has fallen on the land. The
gods have hidden their faces and refused to fight for their
children. Woe and desolation have come upon us. The altars are
thrown down and the priests slaughtered.”

“Mona is taken!” Beric exclaimed.

“Yes, my son, Mona is taken. The Druid Boroc but an hour ago
brought the news. The Romans having reached the strait,
constructed flat bottomed boats, and in these approached the
island, the horsemen towing their horses behind them. There were
assembled the women of the Silures and the Druids from all parts
of Britain, with many fugitives who had fled for shelter to the
island. The Druids remained by their altars offering up human
sacrifices, the men and women assembled on the beach waving
torches, hurling imprecations upon the invaders, and imploring
the gods to aid them and to crush the impious foe. For a time the
Romans paused in mid channel, terrified at the spectacle, and the
hopes of all that the gods had paralysed their arms rose high;
but, alas! the halt was but temporary. Encouraging each other
with shouts, they again advanced, and, leaping from their boats,
waded through the water and set foot on the sacred soil.

“What was there to do? The men were few, and though the women
in their despair rushed wildly at the enemy, it was all in vain;
men and women were alike slaughtered; and then, moving forward,
they advanced against the holy circle and slew the Druids upon
the altars of the gods they served, and yet the gods were silent.
They saw, they heard, but answered not; neither the clouds rained
fire upon the invaders nor the earth shook. Ah! my son, evil days
have fallen upon the land. What will be the end of them?”

Throughout the length and breadth of Britain a thrill of
horror was felt at the news of the massacre of Druids at Mona,
and everywhere it was followed by a stern determination to
prepare for battle to clear the land of the Romans. The Druids
went from tribe to tribe and from village to village stirring up
men’s hearts; the women, even more deeply excited than the men at
the news of the calamity, behaved as if possessed, many going
about the country calling upon the men to take up arms, and
foretelling victory to the Britons and destruction to the Romans;
even in the streets of Camalodunum at night their voices were
heard crying out curses upon the Romans and predicting the
destruction of the city.

A week after the news came, Beric, in fulfilment of the
promise he had given to Berenice, paid another visit to
Camalodunum. There were no signs in its busy streets of
uneasiness or fear. The new propraetor Catus Decianus, who
commanded in the absence of Suetonius, was holding a sort of
court there, and the bearing of the Romans seemed even more
arrogant and insolent than usual. The news of the destruction of
the Druids at Mona had by them been hailed as a final and most
crushing blow to the resistance of the Britons. Since their gods
could not protect their own altars what hope could there be for
them in the future? Decianus, a haughty tyrant who had been sent
to Britain by Nero as a mark of signal favour, in order that he
might enrich himself by the spoils of the Britons, was levying
exactions at a rate hitherto unknown, treating the people as if
they were but dirt under his feet. His lieutenants, all creatures
of Nero, followed his example, and the exasperation of the
unfortunate Trinobantes, who were the chief victims, had reached
such a point that they were ready for revolt whensoever the
signal might come.

On arrival at the house of Caius Muro, Beric found Berenice at
home; she received him with joy. “I am glad that you have come,
Beric; it is so dull now that father has gone away to the war. I
have been expecting you here for the last fortnight. I suppose
you have been amusing yourself too much to give a thought to
me.”

“I have been very busy, Berenice. I am a chief now, and have
had much to do in the tribe. Among other things we have been
having great war with the wolves.”

“Yes, you told me when you were last here that you were going
to set out next day on an expedition against them.”

“They began first, as it turned out,” he said smiling, “and
very nearly made a meal of me that night on my way homeward.”

“Sit down and tell me all about it,” she said. “You know I
love stories.”

Beric recited to her the story of the fight at the hut.

“And there was a woman there! How terrible it must have been
for her to be alone with her children before you arrived, and to
think of her killing wolves with the spear. How different your
women must be from us, Beric, for we are only taught to
embroider, to dress ourselves, and to care for pretty things.
Why, I should be frightened out of my life at the sight of a wolf
if I were all alone and had no one to protect me.”

“Our women are brought up differently, Berenice. We regard
them as altogether our equals, and many of our tribes are ruled
by women. My own, you know, for example. They do not go into
battle with the men; but when a camp is attacked they are ready
to fight in its defence, and being brought up to lead a vigorous
life, they are well nigh as strong as we are. Among all the
Gaulish nations the women are held in high respect. Of course
with you this is so sometimes. Your father was wont to listen to
the opinions of your mother; but you know that is not often so,
and that with many Romans women are looked upon as inferior
creatures, good only for dress and pleasure, useful in ordering a
house and in managing the slaves, but unfit to take part in
public life, and knowing nothing of aught save domestic affairs.
And what has been going on here, Berenice?”

“Nothing,” the girl said; “at least I have been doing nothing.
I went to the footraces the other day, and saw the propraetor,
but I don’t like him. I think that he is a bad man, and I hear
stories among the ladies of his being cruel and greedy; and there
have been mad women going about at night shrieking and crying; I
have heard them several times myself. Some of the ladies said
they wish that my father was back here with his legion, for that
there are but few soldiers, and if Decianus continues to treat
the people so badly there may be trouble. What do you think,
Beric?”

“I cannot say,” he replied. “It seems to me that the Romans
are bent upon crushing us down altogether. They have just
captured our Holy Island, slaying the priests and priestesses,
and overthrowing the altars, while Nero’s officers wring from the
people the last coin and the last animal they possess. I fear
that there will be trouble, Berenice. No men worthy of the name
could see their gods insulted and themselves despoiled of all
they possess without striking a blow in defence.”

“But they will only bring more trouble upon themselves,” the
girl said gravely. “I have heard my father lament that they
forced us to fight against them, though you know he held that it
was our fault more than theirs, and that if they were ruled
kindly and wisely, as were the people in Southern Gaul, where the
legion was stationed before it came over here, they would settle
down and live peaceably, and be greatly benefited by our
rule.”

“If you treat a man as you would a dog you must not be
surprised if he bites you,” Beric said. “Some of your people not
only think that we are dogs, but that we are toothless ones.
Mayhap they will find their mistake some day.”

“But you will never fight against us, Beric,” the girl said
anxiously, “after living so long among us?”

“I would not fight against your father or against those who
have treated me well,” he replied; “but against those who ill
treat and abuse us I would fight when my countrymen fought. Yet
if I could ever do you a service, Berenice, I would lay down my
life to do it.”

The event seemed so improbable to the girl that she passed
over the promise without comment.

“So you are a chief, Beric! But I thought chiefs wore golden
bracelets and ornaments, and you are just as you were when you
came here last.”

“Because I come here only as a visitor. If I came on a mission
from the queen, or as one of a deputation of chiefs, I should
wear my ornaments. I wear them at home now, those that my father
had.”

Beric stayed for some hours chatting with Berenice, and his
old instructor, who had been left by Caius in charge of the
household. As he walked home he wondered over the careless
security of the Romans, and vowed that should opportunity occur
he would save Berenice from the fate that was likely to fall upon
all in Camalodunum should the Britons rise.

CHAPTER IV: AN INFURIATED
PEOPLE

“A fresh misfortune has occurred,” was the greeting with which
Beric’s mother met him on his return home. “Prasutagus is dead;
and this is not the worst, he has left half his estates to the
Roman Emperor.”

“To the Roman Emperor!” Beric repeated; “is it possible,
mother?”

“It is true, Beric. You know he has always tried to curry
favour with the Romans, and has kept the Iceni from joining when
other tribes rose against Rome. He has thought of nothing but
amassing wealth, and in all Britain there is no man who could
compare with him in riches. Doubtless he felt that the Romans
only bided their time to seize what he had gathered, and so, in
order that Boadicea and his daughters should enjoy in peace a
portion of his stores, he has left half to Nero. The man was a
fool as well as a traitor. The peasant who throws a child out of
the door to the wolves knows that it does but whet their appetite
for blood, and so it will be in this case. I hear Prasutagus died
a week since, though the news has come but slowly, and already a
horde of Roman officials have arrived in Norfolk, and are
proceeding to make inventories of the king’s possessions, and to
bear themselves as insolently as if they were masters of all.
Trouble must come, and that soon. Boadicea is of different stuff
to her husband; she will not bear the insolence of the Romans. It
would have been well for the Iceni had Prasutagus died twenty
years ago and she had ruled our country.”

“The gods have clearly willed, mother, that we should rise as
one people against the Romans. It may be that it was for this
that they did not defend their shrines from the impious hands of
the invaders. Nought else stirred the Britons to lay aside their
jealousies and act as one people. Now from end to end of the
island all are burning for vengeance. Just at this moment, comes
the death of the Romans’ friend Prasutagus, and the passing of
the rule of the Iceni into the hands of Boadicea. With the Romans
in her capital the occasion will assuredly not long be wanting,
and then there will be such a rising as the Romans have never yet
seen; and then, their purpose effected, the gods may well fight
on our side. I would that there had been five more years in which
to prepare for the struggle, but if it must come it must. This
Catus Decianus is just the man to bring it on. Haughty, arrogant,
and greedy, he knows nothing of us, and has never faced the
Britons in arms. Had Suetonius been here he would not have acted
thus with regard to the affairs of Prasutagus. Had Caius Muro not
been absent his voice might have been raised in warning to the
tyrant; but everything seems to conspire together, mother, to
bring on the crisis.”

“The sooner the better,” Parta exclaimed vehemently. “It is
true that in time you might teach the whole Iceni to fight in
Roman methods, but what is good for the Romans may not be good
for us. Moreover, every year that passes strengthens their hold
on the land. Their forts spring up everywhere, their cities grow
apace; every month numbers flock over here. Another five years,
my son, and their hold might be too strong to shake off.”

“That is so, mother. Thinking of ourselves I thought not of
them; it may be that it were better to fight now than to wait.
Well, whenever the signal is given, and from wheresoever it
comes, we are ready.”

Since the news of the capture of Mona had arrived, the
tribesmen had drilled with increased alacrity and eagerness.
Every man saw that the struggle with Rome must ere long take
place, and was eager to take a leading share in the conflict. It
was upon them that the blow had fallen most heavily in the former
partial rising, and they knew that the other tribes of the Iceni
held that their defence of their camp should not have been
overborne by the Romans as it was; hence they had something of a
private wrong as well as a national one to avenge. Another
fortnight was spent in constant work, until one day the news came
that Boadicea’s daughters had been most grossly insulted by the
Roman officers, and that the queen herself had started for
Camalodunum to demand from Decianus a redress of their wrongs and
the punishment of the offenders. The excitement was intense.
Every man felt the outrage upon the daughters of their queen as a
personal injury, and when Beric took his place before the men of
the tribe, who were drawn up in military order, a shout arose:
“Lead us to Camalodunum! Let us take vengeance!”

“Not yet,” Beric cried. “The queen has gone there; we must
wait the issue. Not until she gives the orders must we move. A
rising now would endanger her safety. We must wait, my friends,
until all are as ready as we are; when the time comes you will
not find me backward in leading you.”

Three days later came news that seemed at first incredible,
but which was speedily confirmed. Decianus had received the
queen, had scoffed at her complaints, and when, fired with
indignation, she had used threats, he had ordered his soldiers to
strip and scourge her, and the sentence had actually been carried
into effect. Then the rage of the tribesmen knew no bounds, and
it needed the utmost persuasions of Parta herself to induce them
to wait until news came from the north.

“Fear not,” she said, “that your vengeance will be baulked.
Boadicea will not submit to this double indignity, of that you
maybe sure. Wait until you hear from her. When measures are
determined upon in this matter the Iceni must act as one man. We
are all equally outraged in the persons of our queen and her
daughters; all have a right to a share in avenging her insults.
We might spoil all by moving before the others are ready. When we
move it must be as a mighty torrent to overwhelm the invaders.
Not Camalodunum only, but every Roman town must be laid in ruins.
It must be a life and death struggle between us and Rome; we must
conquer now or be enslaved for ever.”

It was not long before messengers arrived from Boadicea,
bidding the Sarci prepare for war, and summoning Parta and her
son to a council of the chiefs of the tribe, to be held under a
well known sacred oak in the heart of the forest, near Norwich.
Parta’s chariot was at once prepared, together with a second,
which was to carry Boduoc and a female attendant of Parta, and as
soon as the horses were harnessed they started. Two long days’
journey brought them to the place of meeting. The scene was a
busy one. Already fully two score of the chiefs had arrived.
Parta was received with great marks of respect. The Sarci were
the tribe lying nearest to the Romans, and upon them the brunt of
the Roman anger would fall, as it had done before; but her
appearance in answer to the summons showed, it was thought, their
willingness to join in the general action of the tribe.

Beric was looked at curiously. His four years’ residence among
the Romans caused him to be regarded with a certain amount of
suspicion, which had been added to by rumours that he had been
impressing upon the tribe the greatness and power of Rome. Of
late there had been reports brought by wandering bards that the
Sarci were being practised in the same exercises as those of the
Roman soldiers, and there were many who thought that Beric, like
Cogidinus, a chief of the Regi of Sussex, had joined himself
heart and soul to Rome, and was preparing his tribe to fight side
by side with the legions. On the other hand many, knowing that
Parta had lost her husband at the hands of the Romans, and hated
them with all her heart, held that she would never have divided
her power with Beric, or suffered him to take military command of
the tribe, had she not been assured of his fidelity to the cause
of Britain.

Beric was dressed in the full panoply of a chief. He wore a
short skirt or kilt reaching to his knees. Above it a loose vest
or shirt, girt in by a gold belt, while over his shoulders he
wore the British mantle, white in colour and worked with gold.
Around his neck was the torque, the emblem of chieftainship. On
his left arm he carried a small shield of beaten brass, and from
a baldric covered with gold plates hung the straight pointless
British sword that had been carried by his father in battle. Even
those most suspicious of him could not deny that he was a
stalwart and well built youth, with a full share of pith and
muscle, and that his residence among the Romans had not given him
any airs of effeminacy. The only subject of criticism was that
his hair was shorter than that of his countrymen, for although he
had permitted it to grow since he left Camalodunum, where he had
worn it short, in Roman fashion, it had not yet attained its full
length.

Beric felt a stranger among the others. Since his return home
there had been no great tribal gathering, for Prasutagus had for
some time been ill, and had always discouraged such assemblages
both because they were viewed with jealousy by the Romans and
because he begrudged the expenses of entertaining. Parta, who was
personally known to almost all present, introduced Beric to
them.

“My son is none the less one of the Iceni for his Roman
training,” she said; “he has learned much, but has forgotten
nothing. He is young, but you will find him a worthy companion in
arms when the day of battle comes.”

“I am glad to hear what you say, Parta,” Aska, one of the
older chiefs, said. “It would be unfair to impute blame to him
for what assuredly was not his fault, but I feared that they
might have taught him to despise his countrymen.”

“It is not so, sir,” Beric said firmly. “Happily I fell into
good hands. Caius Muro, the commander of the 12th Legion, in
whose charge I was, is a just as well as a valiant man, and had
me instructed as if I had been his own son, and I trust that I am
none the less a true Briton because I except him and his from the
hatred I bear the Romans. He never said a word to me against my
countrymen, and indeed often bewailed that we were not treated
more wisely and gently, and were not taught to regard the Romans
as friends and teachers rather than oppressors.”

“Well spoken, young chief!” the other said; “ingratitude is,
of all sins, the most odious, and you do well to speak up boldly
for those who were kind to you. Among all men there are good and
evil, and we may well believe, even among the Romans, there are
some who are just and honourable. But I hear that you admire them
greatly, and that you have been telling to your tribe tales of
their greatness in war and of their virtues.”

“I have done so,” Beric replied. “A race could not conquer the
world as the Romans have done unless they had many virtues; but
those that I chiefly told of are the virtues that every Briton
should lay to heart. I spoke of their patriotism, of the love of
country that never failed, of the stern determination that
enabled them to pass through the gravest dangers without
flinching, and to show a dauntless face to the foe even when
dangers were thickest and the country was menaced with
destruction. Above all, how in Rome, though there might be
parties and divisions, there were none in the face of a common
enemy. Then all acted as one man; there was no rivalry save in
great deeds. Each was ready to give life and all he possessed in
defence of his country. These were lessons which I thought it
well that every Briton should learn and take to heart. Rome has
conquered us so far because she has been one while we are rent
into tribes having no common union; content to sit with our arms
folded while our neighbours are crushed, not seeing that our turn
will come next. It was so when they first came in the time of our
forefathers, it has been so in these latter times; tribe after
tribe has been subdued; while, had we been all united, the Romans
would never have obtained a footing on our shore. No wonder the
gods have turned away their faces from a people so blind and so
divided when all was at stake. Yes, I have learned much from the
Romans. I have not learned to love them, but I have learned to
admire them and to regret that in many respects my own countrymen
did not resemble them.”

There was a murmur of surprise among the chiefs who had by
this time gathered round, while angry exclamations broke from
some of the younger men; but Aska waved his hand.

“Beric speaks wisely and truly,” he said; “our dissensions
have been our ruin. Still more, perhaps, the conduct of those who
should have led us, but who have made terms with Rome in order to
secure their own possessions. Among these Prasutagus was
conspicuous, and we ourselves were as much to blame as he was
that we suffered it. If he knows what is passing here he himself
will see how great are the misfortunes that he has brought upon
his queen, his daughters, and the tribe. Had we joined our whole
forces with those of Caractacus the Brigantes too might have
risen. It took all the strength of the Romans to conquer
Caractacus alone. What could they have done had the Brigantes and
we from the north, and the whole of the southern tribes, then
unbroken, closed down upon them? It is but yesterday since
Prasutagus was buried. The grass has not yet begun to shoot upon
his funeral mound and yet his estates have been seized by the
Romans, while his wife and daughters have been insulted beyond
measure.

“The young chief of the Sarci has profited by his sojourn
among the Romans. The Druids have told me that the priest who has
visited the Sarci prophesies great things of him, and for that
reason decided that, young as he was, he should share his
mother’s power and take his place as leader of the tribe in
battle, and that he foresaw that, should time be given him to
ripen his wisdom and establish his authority, he might some day
become a British champion as powerful as Cunobeline, as valiant
as Caractacus. These were the words of one of the wisest of the
Druids. They have been passed round among the Druids, and even
now throughout Britain there are many who never so much as heard
of the name of the Sarci, who yet believe that, in this young
chief of that tribe, will some day be found a mighty champion of
his country. Prasutagus knew this also, for as soon as Beric
returned from Camalodunum he begged the Druids to find out
whether good or evil was to be looked for from this youth, who
had been brought up among the Romans, and their report to him
tallied with that which I myself heard from them. It was for that
reason that Boadicea sent for him with his mother, although so
much younger than any here, and belonging to a tribe that is but
a small one among the Iceni. I asked these questions of him,
knowing that among some of you there were doubts whether his stay
with the Romans had not rendered him less a Briton. He answered
as I expected from him, boldly and fearlessly, and, as you have
heard wisely, and I for one believe in the predictions of the
Druids. But here comes the queen.”

As he spoke a number of chariots issued from the path through
the forest into the circular clearing, in the centre of which
stood the majestic oak, and at the same moment, from the opposite
side, appeared a procession of white robed Druids singing a loud
chant. As the chariots drew up, the queen and her two daughters
alighted from them, with a number of chiefs of importance from
the branches of the tribe near her capital. Beric had never seen
her before, and was struck with her aspect. She was a tall and
stately woman, large in her proportions, with her yellow hair
falling below her waist. She wore no ornaments or insignia of her
high rank; her dress and those of her daughters were careless and
disordered, indicative of mourning and grief, but the expression
of her face was that of indignation and passion rather than of
humiliation.

Upon alighting she acknowledged the greeting of the assembled
chiefs with a slight gesture, and then remained standing with her
eyes fixed upon the advancing Druids. When these reached the
sacred tree they encircled it seven times, still continuing their
chanting, and then ranged themselves up under its branches with
the chief Druid standing in front. They had already been
consulted privately by the queen and had declared for war; but it
was necessary that the decision should be pronounced solemnly
beneath the shade of the sacred oak.

“Why come you here, woman?” the chief priest asked, addressing
the queen.

“I come as a supplicant to the gods,” she said; “as an
outraged queen, a dishonoured woman, and a broken hearted mother,
and in each of these capacities I call upon my country’s gods for
vengeance.” Then in passionate words she poured out the story of
the indignities that she and her daughters had suffered, and
suddenly loosening her garment, and suffering it to drop to her
waist, she turned and showed the marks of the Roman rods across
her back, the sight eliciting a shout of fury from the chiefs
around her.

“Let all retire to the woods,” the Druids said, “and see that
no eye profanes our mysteries. When the gods have answered we
will summon you.”

The queen, followed by all the chiefs, retired at once to the
forest, while the Druids proceeded to carry out the sacred
mysteries. Although all knew well what the decision would be,
they waited with suppressed excitement the summons to return and
hear the decision that was to embark them in a desperate struggle
with Rome. Some threw themselves down under the trees, some
walked up and down together discussing in low tones the prospects
of a struggle, and the question what tribes would join it. The
queen and her daughters sat apart, none venturing to approach
them. Parta and three other female chiefs sat a short distance
away talking together, while two or three of the younger chiefs,
their attitude towards Beric entirely altered by the report of
the Druids’ predictions concerning him, gathered round him and
asked questions concerning the Romans’ methods of fighting, their
arms and power. An hour after they had retired a deep sound of a
conch rose in the air. The queen and her daughters at once moved
forward, followed by the four female chiefs, behind whom came the
rest in a body. Issuing from the forest they advanced to the
sacred oak and stood in an attitude of deep respect, while the
chief Druid announced the decision of the gods.

“The gods have spoken,” he said. “Too long have the Iceni
stood aloof from their countrymen, therefore have the gods
withdrawn their faces from them; therefore has punishment and woe
fallen upon them. Prasutagus is dead; his queen and his daughters
have suffered the direst indignities; a Roman has seized the
wealth heaped up by inglorious cowardice. But the moment has
come; the gods have suffered their own altars to be desecrated in
order that over the whole length and breadth of the land the cry
for vengeance shall arise simultaneously. The cup is full;
vengeance is at hand upon the oppressors and tyrants, the land
reeks with British blood. Not content with grasping our
possessions, our lives and the honour of our women are held as
nought by them, our altars are cold, our priests slaughtered. The
hour of vengeance is at hand. I see the smoke of burning cities
ascending in the air. I hear the groans of countless victims to
British vengeance. I see broken legions and flying men.

“To arms! the gods have spoken. Strike for vengeance. Strike
for the gods. Strike for your country and outraged queen. Chiefs
of the Iceni, to arms! May the curse of the gods fall upon an
enemy who draws back in the day of battle! May the gods give
strength to your arms and render you invincible in battle! The
gods have spoken.”

A mighty shout was raised by his hearers; swords were
brandished, and spears shaken, and the cry “To arms! the gods
have spoken,” was repeated unanimously. As the Druids closed
round their chief, who had been seized with strong convulsions as
soon as he had uttered the message of the gods, Boadicea turned
to the chiefs and raised her arm for silence.

“I am a queen again; I reign once more over a race of men. No
longer do I feel the smart of my stripes, for each shall ere long
be washed out in Roman blood; but before action, counsel, and
before counsel, food, for you have, many of you, come from afar.
I have ordered a feast to be prepared in the forest.”

She led the way across the opposite side of the glade, where,
a few hundred yards in the forest, a number of the queen’s slaves
had prepared a feast of roasted sheep, pig, and ox, with bread
and jars of drink formed of fermented honey, and a sort of beer.
As soon as the meal was concluded the queen called the chiefs
round her, and the assembly was joined by the Druids.

“War is declared,” she said; “the question is shall we
commence at once, or shall we wait?”

There was a general response “At once!” but the chief Druid
stepped forward and said: “My sons, we must not risk the ruin of
all by undue haste; this must be a national movement if it is to
succeed. For a fortnight we must keep quiet, preparing everything
for war, so that we may take the field with every man capable of
bearing arms in the tribe. In the meantime we, with the aid of
the bards, will spread the news of the outrages that the Romans
have committed upon the queen and her daughters far and wide over
the land. Already the tribes are burning with indignation at the
insults to our gods and the slaughter of our priests at Mona, and
this news will arouse them to madness, for what is done here
today may be done elsewhere tomorrow, and all men will see that
only in the total destruction of the Romans is there a hope of
freedom. All will be bidden to prepare for war, and, when the
news comes that the Iceni have taken up arms, to assemble and
march to join us. On this day fortnight, then, let every chief
with his following meet at Cardun, which is but a short march
from Camalodunum. Then we will rush upon the Roman city, the
scene of the outrage to your queen, and its smoke shall tell
Britain that she is avenged, and Rome that her day of oppression
is over.”

The decision was received with satisfaction. A fortnight was
none too long for making preparations, assembling the tribesmen,
and marching to the appointed spot.

“One thing I claim,” Boadicea said, “and that is the right to
fall upon and destroy instantly the Romans who installed
themselves in my capital, and who are the authors of the outrages
upon my daughters. So long as they live and lord it there I
cannot return.”

“That is right and just,” the Druid said. “Slay all but ten,
and hand them over bound to us to be sacrificed on the altars of
the gods they have insulted.”

“I will undertake that task, as my tribe lies nearest the
capital,” one of the chiefs said. “I will assemble them tonight
and fall upon the Romans at daybreak.”

“See that none escape,” the Druid said. “Kill them and all
their slaves and followers. Let not one live to carry the news to
Camalodunum.”

“I shall be at the meeting place and march at your head,” the
queen said to the chiefs; “that victory will be ours I do not
doubt; but if the gods will it otherwise I swear that I shall not
survive defeat. Ye gods, hear my vow.”

The council was now over, and the queen mingled with the
chiefs, saying a few words to each. Beric was presented to her by
his mother, and Boadicea was particularly gracious to him. “I
have heard great things predicted of you, Beric. The gods have
marked you out for favour, and their priests tell me that you
will be one day a great champion of the Britons. So may it be. I
shall watch you on the day of battle, and am assured that none
among the Iceni will bear themselves more worthily.”

An hour later the meeting broke up, and Parta and Beric
returned to Cardun, where they at once began to make preparations
for the approaching conflict. Every man in the tribe was summoned
to attend, and the exercises went on from daybreak till dusk,
while the women cooked and waited upon the men. Councils were
held nightly in the hall, and to each of the chiefs was assigned
a special duty, the whole tribe being treated as a legion, and
every chief and fighting man having his place and duty assigned
to him.

In Camalodunum, although nothing was known of the preparations
that were being made, a feeling of great uneasiness prevailed.
The treatment of Boadicea had excited grave disapproval upon the
part of the great majority of the inhabitants, although new
arrivals from Gaul or Rome and the officials in the suite of
Decianus lauded his action as an act of excellent policy.

“These British slaves must be taught to feel the weight of our
arm,” they said, “and a lesson such as this will be most useful.
Is it for dogs like these to complain because they are whipped?
They must be taught to know that they live but at our pleasure;
that this island and all it contains is ours. They have no rights
save those we choose to give them.”

But the older settlers viewed the matter very differently.
They knew well enough that it was only after hard fighting that
Vespasian had subdued the south, and Ostorius crushed Caractacus.
They knew, too, that the Iceni gave but a nominal submission to
Rome, and that the Trinobantes, crushed as they were, had been
driven to the verge of madness by extortion. Moreover the legions
were far away; Camalodunum was well nigh undefended, and lay
almost at the mercy of the Britons should they attack. They,
therefore, denounced the treatment of Boadicea as not only brutal
but as impolitic in the extreme.

The sudden cessation of news from the officials who had gone
to take possession of the estate of Prasutagus caused
considerable uneasiness among this section of the inhabitants of
Camalodunum. Messengers were sent off every day to inquire as to
what had taken place after the return of Boadicea, but none came
back. The feeling of uneasiness was heightened by the attitude of
the natives. Reports came in from all parts of the district that
they had changed their attitude, that they no longer crouched at
the sight of a Roman but bore themselves defiantly, that there
were meetings at night in the forest, and that the women sang
chants and performed dances which had evidently some hidden
meaning.

Decianus, conscious perhaps that his action was strongly
disapproved by all the principal inhabitants of the town, and
that, perhaps, Suetonius would also view it in the same light
when it was reported to him, had left the city a few days after
the occurrence and had gone to Verulamium. His absence permitted
the general feeling of apprehension and discontentment more open
expression than it would otherwise have had. Brave as the Romans
were, they were deeply superstitious, and a thrill of horror and
apprehension ran through the city when it was reported one
morning that the statute of Victory in the temple had fallen to
the ground, and had turned round as if it fled towards the sea.
This presage of evil created a profound impression.

“What do you think of it, Cneius?” Berenice asked; “it is
terrible, is it not? Nothing else is spoken of among all the
ladies I have seen today, and all agree it forbodes some terrible
evil.”

“It may, or it may not,” the old scribe said cautiously; “if
the statue has fallen by the action of the gods the omen is
surely a most evil one.”

“But how else could it have fallen, Cneius?”

“Well, my dear, there are many Britons in the town, and you
know they are in a very excited state; their women, indeed, seem
to have gone well nigh mad with their midnight singing and
wailing. It is possible–mind, I do not for a moment say that
it is so, for were the suggestion to occur to the citizens it
would lead to fresh oppressions and cruelties against the Britons–but
it is just possible that some of them may have entered the
temple at night and overthrown Victory’s image as an act of
defiance. You know how the women nightly shriek out their
prophecies of the destruction of this town.”

“But could they destroy it, Cneius? Surely they would never
dare to attack a great Roman city like this!”

“I don’t know whether they dare or not, Berenice, but
assuredly Decianus is doing all in his power to excite them to
such a pitch of despair that they might dare do anything; and if
they dare, I see nothing whatever to prevent them from taking the
city. The works erected after Claudius first founded the colony
are so vast that they would require an army to defend them, while
there are but a few hundred soldiers here. What could they do
against a horde of barbarians? I would that your father were
back, and also the two legions who marched away to join
Suetonius. Before they went they ought to have erected a central
fort here, to which all could retire in case of danger, and hold
out until Suetonius came back to our assistance; but you see,
when they went away none could have foreseen what has since taken
place. No one could have dreamt that Decianus would have wantonly
stirred up the Iceni to revolt.”

“But you don’t think they have revolted?”

“I know nothing of it, Berenice, but I can put two and two
together. We have heard nothing for a week from the officials who
went to seize the possessions of Prasutagus. How is it that none
of our messengers have returned? It seems to me almost certain
that these men have paid for their conduct to the daughters of
Boadicea with their lives.”

“But Beric is with the Iceni. Surely we should hear from him
if danger threatened.”

“He is with them,” Cneius said, “but he is a chief, and if the
tribe are in arms he is in arms also, and cannot, without risking
the forfeit of his life for treachery, send hither a message that
would put us on our guard. I believe in the lad. Four years I
taught him, and I think I know his nature. He is honest and true.
He is one of the Iceni and must go with his countrymen; but I am
sure he is grateful for the kindness he received here, and has a
real affection for you, therefore I believe, that should my worst
fears be verified, and the Iceni attack Camalodunum, he will do
his utmost to save you.”

“But they will not kill women and girls surely, even if they
did take the city?”

“I fear that they will show slight mercy to any, Berenice; why
should they? We have shown no mercy to them; we have slaughtered
their priests and priestesses, and at the storm of their towns
have put all to death without distinction of age or sex. If we, a
civilized people, thus make war, what can you expect from the men
upon whom we have inflicted such countless injuries?”

The fall of the statue of Victory was succeeded by other
occurrences in which the awestruck inhabitants read augury of
evil. It was reported that strange noises had been heard in the
council house and theatre, while men out in boats brought back
the tale that there was the appearance of a sunken town below the
water. It was currently believed that the sea had assumed the
colour of blood, and that there were, when the tide went out,
marks upon the sand as if dead bodies had been lying there. Even
the boldest veterans were dismayed at this accumulation of
hostile auguries. A council of the principal citizens was held,
and an urgent message despatched to Decianus, praying that he
would take instance measures for the protection of the city. In
reply to this he despatched two hundred soldiers from Verulamium,
and these with the small body of troops already in the city took
possession of the Temple of Claudius, and began to make
preparations for putting it into a state of defence.

Still no message had come from Norwich, but night after night
the British women declared that the people of Camalodunum would
suffer the same fate that had already overwhelmed those who had
ventured to insult the daughters of the queen of the Iceni. A
strange terror had now seized the inhabitants of the town. The
apprehension of danger weighted upon all, and the peril seemed
all the more terrible inasmuch as it was so vague. Nothing was
known for certain. No message had come from the Iceni since the
queen quitted the town, and yet it was felt that among the dark
woods stretching north a host of foes was gathering, and might at
any moment pour down upon the city. Orders were issued that at
the approach of danger all who could do so were to betake
themselves at once to the temple, which was to act as a citadel,
yet no really effective measures were taken. There was, indeed, a
vague talk of sending the women and children and valuables away
to the legion, commanded by Cerealis, stationed in a fortified
camp to the south, but nothing came of it; all waited for
something definite, some notification that the Britons had really
revolted, and while waiting for this nothing was done.

One evening a slave brought in a small roll of vellum to
Cneius. It had been given him at the door, he said, by a Briton,
who had at once left after placing it in his hands. The scribe
opened it and read as follows:–

“To Cneius Nepo, greeting–Obtain British garb for yourself
and Berenice. Let her apparel be that of a boy. Should anything
unusual occur by night or day, do you and she disguise yourselves
quickly, and stir not beyond the house. It will be best for you
to wait in the tablinum; lose no time in carrying out this
instruction.”

There was no signature, nor was any needed.

“So the storm is about to burst,” Cneius said thoughtfully
when he had read it. “I thought so. I was sure that if the
Britons had a spark of manhood left in them they would avenge the
cruel wrongs of their queen. I am rejoiced to read Beric’s words,
and to see that he has, as I felt sure he had, a grateful heart.
He would save us from the fate that he clearly thinks is about to
overwhelm this place. The omens have not lied then–not that I
believe in them; they are for the most part the offspring of
men’s fancy, but at any rate they will come true this time. I
care little for myself, but I must do as he bids me for the sake
of the girl. I doubt, though whether Beric can save her. These
people have terrible wrongs to avenge, and at their first
outburst will spare none. Well, I must do my best, and late as it
is I will go out and purchase these garments. It is not likely
that the danger will come tonight, for he would have given us
longer notice. Still he may have had no opportunity, and may not
have known until the last moment when the attack was to take
place. He says ‘lose no time.'”

Cneius at once went to one of the traders who dealt with the
natives who came into the town, and procured the garments for
himself and Berenice. The trader, who knew him by sight,
remarked, “Have you been purchasing more slaves?”

“No, but I have need for dresses for two persons who have done
me some service.”

“I should have thought,” the trader said, “they would have
preferred lighter colours. These cloths are sombre, and the
natives, although their own cloths are for the most part dark,
prefer, when they buy of me, brighter colours.”

“These will do very well,” Cneius said. “just at present Roman
colours and cloths are not likely to be in demand among
them.”

“No, the times are bad,” the trader said; “there has been
scarce a native in my shop for the last ten days, and even among
the townspeople there has been little buying or selling.”

Cneius returned to the house, a slave carrying his purchases
behind him. On reaching home he took the parcel from him, and
carried it to his own cubicule, and then ordered a slave to beg
Berenice to come down from her apartment as he desired to speak
with her.

CHAPTER V:
THE SACK OF CAMALODUNUM

Upon the morning of the day fixed for the gathering of the
Iceni preparations were begun early at Cardun. Oxen and swine
were slaughtered, great fires made, and the women in the village
were all employed in making and baking oaten cakes upon the
hearth. For some days many of them had been employed in making a
great store of fermented honey and water. Men began to flock in
from an early hour, and by midday every male of the Sarci capable
of bearing arms had come in. Each brought with him a supply of
cooked meat and cakes sufficient to last for three or four days.
In the afternoon the tribes began to pour in, each tribe under
its chiefs. There was no attempt at order or regularity; they
came trooping in in masses, the chiefs sometimes in chariots
sometimes on horseback, riding at their head. Parta welcomed
them, and food was served out to the men while the chiefs were
entertained in the hall. Beric, looking at the wild figures,
rough and uncouth but powerful and massive in frame, was filled
with regret that these men knew nothing of discipline, and that
circumstances had forced on the war so suddenly.

The contrast between these wild figures and the disciplined
veterans of Rome, whom he had so often watched as they performed
their exercises, was striking indeed. Far inferior in height and
muscular power to the tribesmen, the legionaries bore themselves
with a proud consciousness in their fighting power that alone
went a long way towards giving them victory. Each man trusted not
only in himself, but on his fellows, and believed that the legion
to which he belonged was invincible. Their regular arms, their
broad shields and helmets, all added to their appearance, while
their massive formation, as they stood shoulder to shoulder,
shield touching shield, seemed as if it could defy the utmost
efforts of undisciplined valour. However, Beric thought with
pride that his own tribe, the sixteen hundred men he had for six
weeks been training incessantly, would be a match even for the
Roman veterans. Their inferiority in the discipline that was
carried to such perfection among the Romans would be atoned for
by their superior strength and activity. His only fear was, that
in the excitement of battle they would forget their teaching,
and, breaking their ranks, fight every man for himself. He had,
however, spared no pains in impressing upon them that to do this
would be to throw away all that they had learned.

“I have not taught you to fight in Roman fashion,” he said,
“merely that you might march in regular order and astonish the
other tribesmen, but that you should be cool and collected,
should be able patiently to stand the shock of the Roman legion,
and to fight, not as scattered units, but as a solid whole. You
will do well to bear this in mind, for to those who disobey
orders and break the line when engaged with the foe I will show
no mercy. My orders will be given to each sergeant of ten men to
run a spear through any man who stirs from his post, whether in
advance or in retreat, whether to slay or to plunder. The time
may come when the safety of the whole army depends upon your
standing like a wall between them and the Romans, and the man who
advances from his place in the ranks will, as much as the man who
retreats, endanger the safety of all.”

Over and over again had he impressed this lesson upon them.
Sometimes he had divided them in two parts, and engaged in mimic
fight. The larger half, representing the tribesmen, advanced in
their ordinary fashion with loud shouts and cries, while the
smaller section maintained their solid formation, and with
levelled spears, five deep, waited the attack. Even those who
were least impressed with the advantages of the exercises through
which they had been going, could not but feel how immensely
superior was the solid order, and how impossible would it have
been for assailants to burst through the hedge of pointed
weapons.

By sunset well nigh thirty thousand men had arrived, each
subtribe passing through the village and taking up its post on
the slopes around it, where they were at once supplied with food
by the women.

With the fighting men were large numbers of women, for these
generally accompanied the Britons on their warlike expeditions.
Just at sunset a shout arose from the tribesmen on the north side
of the village, and Boadicea, with her daughters and chief
councillors, drove into the village. Her mien was proud and
lofty. She carried a spear in her hand and a sword in her girdle.
She had resumed her royal ornaments, and a fillet of gold
surrounded her head. Her garments were belted in with a broad
girdle of the same metal, and she wore heavy gold armlets and
bracelets. She looked with pride upon the tribesmen who thronged
shouting to greet her, and exclaimed as she leapt from her
chariot, “The day of vengeance is at hand.”

The fires blazed high all that night round Cardun. Numbers of
bards had accompanied the tribes, as not only had those who lived
in the households of the principal chiefs come in, but many had
been attracted from the country lying near their borders. At
every fire, therefore, songs were sung and tales told of the
valour and glory of the heroes of old. Mingled with these were
laments over the evil days that had befallen Britain, and
exhortations to their hearers to avenge the past and prove
themselves worthy of their ancestors.

In similar manner the night was passed in Parta’s hall. Here
the chief bards were assembled, with all the tribal leaders, and
vied with each other in their stirring chants. Beric moved about
among the guests, seeing that their wants were supplied, while
Parta herself looked after those who were gathered on the dais.
Beric learned from the old chief Aska, who had first spoken to
him on the day of their arrival at the sacred oak, that all
Britain was ripe for the rising, and that messengers had been
received not only from the Brigantes, but from many of the
southern and western tribes, with assurances that they would rise
as soon as they heard that the Iceni had struck the first
blow.

“The Trinobantes will join us at Camalodunum. All goes well.
Suetonius, with the legions, is still in the far west. We shall
make an end of them here before he can return. By that time we
shall have been joined by most of the tribes, and shall have a
force that will be sufficient to destroy utterly the army he is
leading. That done, there will be but the isolated forts to
capture and destroy, and then Britain will be free from the
invader. You think this will be so, Beric?”

“I hope and trust so,” Beric replied. “I think that success in
our first undertakings is a certainty, and I trust we may defeat
Suetonius. With such numbers as we shall put in the field we
ought surely to be able to do so. It is not of the present I
think so much as of the future. Rome never submits to defeat, and
will send an army here to which that of Suetonius would be but a
handful. But if we remain united, and utilize the months that
must elapse before the Romans can arrive in preparing for the
conflict, we ought to be victorious.”

“You feel sure that the Romans will try to reconquer
Britain?”

“Quite sure. In all their history there is not an instance
where they have submitted to defeat. This is one of the main
reasons of their success. I am certain that, at whatever
sacrifices, they will equip and send out an army that they will
believe powerful enough for the purpose.”

“But they were many years after their first invasion before
they came again.”

“That is true; but in those first two invasions they did not
conquer. In the first they were forced to retire, and therefore
came again; in the second they had success enough to be able to
claim a victory and so to retire with honour. Besides, Rome is
vastly stronger and more powerful now than she was then. Believe
me, Aska, the struggle will be but begun when we have driven the
last Roman from the island.”

“We must talk of this again,” Aska said, “as it is upon us
that the brunt of this struggle will fall. We shall have the
chief voice and influence after it is over, and Boadicea will
stand in the place that Cunobeline held, of chief king of the
island. Then, as you say, much will depend on the steps we take
to prepare to resist the next invasion; and young as you are,
your knowledge of Roman ways will render your counsels valuable,
and give great weight to your advice.”

“I do not wish to put myself in any way in the foreground,”
Beric said. “I am still but a boy, and have no wish to raise my
voice in the council of chiefs; but what I have learned of Roman
history and Roman laws I would gladly explain to those who, like
yourself, speak with the voice of authority, and whose wisdom all
recognize.”

In the morning Boadicea said that reports had been brought to
her of the manner in which Beric had been teaching the Sarci to
fight in Roman fashion, and that she should be glad to see the
result.

Accordingly the tribesmen proceeded to the open fields a mile
away, where they had been accustomed to drill, and they were
followed by the whole of those gathered round the village. The
queen and Parta drove out in their chariots. When they reached
the spot the chiefs of the other tribes, at Beric’s request,
called upon their men to draw off and leave a space sufficient
for the exercises. This left the Sarci standing in scattered
groups over the open space, at one end of which Boadicea and all
the chiefs were gathered.

“They are now in the position, queen,” Beric said, “of men
unsuspecting danger. I shall now warn them that they are about to
be attacked, and that they are to gather instantly to repel the
enemy.”

Taking the conch slung over his shoulder Beric applied it to
his lips and blew three short notes. The tribesmen ran together;
there was, as it seemed to the lookers on, a scene of wild
confusion for a minute, and then they were drawn up in companies,
each a hundred strong, in regular order. A short blast and a long
one, and they moved up together into a mass five deep; a single
note, and the spears fell, and an array of glistening points
shone in front of them.

A shout of surprise and approval rose from the tribesmen
looking on. To them this perfect order and regularity seemed well
nigh miraculous.

Beric now advanced to the line. At his order the two rear
ranks stepped backwards a few feet, struck their spears in the
ground, and then discharged their javelins–of which each man
carried six–over the heads of the ranks in front, against the
enemy supposed to be advancing to attack them. Then seizing their
spears they fell into line again, and at another order the whole
advanced at a quick pace with levelled spears to the charge, and
keeping on till within a few paces of where the queen was
standing, halted suddenly and raised their spears. Again a roar
of applause came from the tribesmen.

“It is wonderful,” the queen said. “I had not thought that men
could be taught so to move together; and that is how the Romans
fight, Beric?”

“It is, queen,” Beric said. “The exercises are exactly similar
to those of the Romans. I learnt them by heart when I was among
them, and the orders are exactly the same as those given in the
legions–only, of course, they are performed by trained
soldiers more perfectly than we can as yet do them. It is but two
months since we began, and the Romans have practised them for
years. Had I time you would have seen them much more perfect than
at present.”

“You have performed marvels,” she said. “I wish that you had
had more time, and that all the Iceni, and not the Sarci only
could have thus learned to meet the enemy. Do you not think so,
chiefs?”

“It is wonderful,” one of the chiefs said; “but I think that
it is not so terrifying to a foe as the rush of our own men. It
is better for resistance, but not so good for attack. Still it
has great merits; but I think it more suited for men who fight
deliberately, like the Romans, than for our own tribesmen, who
are wont to rely for victory each upon his own strength and
valour.”

“What say you, Beric?” the queen asked.

“It would be presumptuous for me to give my opinion against
that of a great chief,” Beric said quietly; “But, so far,
strength and valour have not in themselves succeeded. The men of
Caractacus had both, but they were unavailing against the solid
Roman line. We have never yet won a great victory over the
Romans, and yet we have fought against them valiantly. None can
say that a Briton is not as brave and as strong as a Roman. In
our battles we have always outnumbered them. If we have been
beaten, therefore, it has been surely because the Roman method of
fighting is superior to our own.”

There was a murmur of assent from several of the chiefs.

“Beric’s argument is a strong one,” the queen said to the one
who had spoken; “and I would that all the Iceni had learnt to
fight in this fashion. However, we shall have opportunities of
seeing which is right before we have finished with the Romans.
March your men back again, Beric.”

Beric sounded his horn, and the line, facing half round,
became a column, and marched in regular order back to the
village. The morning meal was now taken, and at midday the march
began. Boadicea with her daughters, Parta and other women of
rank, went first in their chariots; and the Sarci, who, as lying
next to the enemy’s country, were allowed the post of honour,
followed in column behind her, while the rest of the tribesmen
made their way in a miscellaneous crowd through the forest. They
halted among the trees at a distance of four miles from
Camalodunum, and then rested, for the attack was not to take
place until daybreak on the next morning.

Late that evening two or three women of the Trinobantes came
out, in accordance with a preconcerted arrangement, to tell them
that there was no suspicion at Camalodunum of the impending
danger; and that, although there was great uneasiness among the
inhabitants, no measures for defence had been taken, and that
even the precaution of sending away the women and children had
not been adopted.

No fires had been lighted; the men slept in the open air,
simply wrapping themselves in their mantles and lying down under
the trees. Beric had a long talk with Boduoc and ten of the
tribesmen of the latter’s company.

“You understand,” Beric said at last, “that if, as I expect,
the surprise will be complete and no regular resistance be
offered, I shall sound my horn and give the signal for the tribe
to break ranks and scatter. You ten men will, however, keep
together, and at once follow Boduoc and myself. As soon as we
enter the house to which I shall lead you, you will surround the
two persons I shall place in your charge, and will conduct them
to the spot where the chariot will be waiting. You will defend
them, if necessary, with your lives, should any disobey my order
to let you pass through with them. As soon as they are placed in
the chariot you will be free to join in the sack, and if you
should be losers by the delay, I will myself make up your share
to that of your comrades. You are sure, Boduoc, that all the
other arrangements are perfect?”

“Everything is arranged,” Boduoc said. “My brother, who drives
the chariot that brought your mother’s attendants, quite
understands that he is to follow as soon as we move off, and
keeping a short way behind us is to stop in front of the last
house outside the gate until we come. As soon as he has taken
them up he will drive off and give them into the charge of our
mother, who has promised you to have everything in readiness for
them; the skins for beds, drinking vessels, food, and everything
else necessary was taken there two days ago. My sisters will see
to the comfort of the young lady, and you can rely upon my mother
to carry out all the orders you have given her. Our hut lies so
deeply in the forest that there is little chance of anyone going
near it, especially as the whole of the men of the tribe are
away.”

Two hours before daylight the Iceni moved forward. They were
to attack at a number of different points, and each chief had had
his position allotted to him. The Sarci were to move directly
against the northern gate and would form the centre of the
attack. Each man, by Beric’s order, carried a faggot so that
these could be piled against the wall by the gate and enable them
to effect an entrance without the delay that would be incurred in
breaking down the massive gates. They passed quietly through the
cultivated fields, and past the houses scattered about outside
the walls, whose inhabitants had withdrawn into the city since
the alarm spread. They halted at a short distance from the gate,
for sentries would be on guard there, and remained for nearly an
hour, as many of the other tribesmen had a considerably longer
distance to go to reach their appointed stations. A faint light
was beginning to steal over the sky when, far away on their
right, a horn sounded. It was repeated again and again, each time
nearer, and ran along far to the left; then, raising their war
cry, the Sarci dashed forward to the gate.

The shouts of the sentinels on the walls had arisen as soon as
the first horn sounded, and had scarcely died away when the Sarci
reached the gate. Each man as he arrived threw down his faggot,
and the pile soon reached the top of the wall. Then Beric led the
way up and stood on the Roman work. The sentries, seeing the
hopelessness of resistance, had already fled, and the Sarci
poured in. A confused clamour of shouts and cries rose from the
town, above which sounded the yells of the exulting Iceni. Beric
gave the signal for the Sarci to scatter, and the tribesmen at
once began to attack the houses. Placing himself at the head of
Boduoc’s chosen party, Beric ran forward. Already from some of
the houses armed men were pouring out, but disregarding these
Beric pressed on until he reached the house of Caius Muro. His
reason for haste was that, standing rather on the other side of
the town, it was nearer the point assailed by one of the other
divisions of the tribe than to the north gate, and he feared that
others might arrive there before him. Reaching the door he beat
upon it with the handle of his sword.

“Open, Cneius,” he shouted, “it is I, Beric.”

The door was opened at once, and he ran forward into the
atrium, which was filled with frightened slaves, who burst into
cries of terror as, followed by his men, he entered. “Where are
you, Cneius?” Beric shouted.

“I am here,” the scribe replied from his cubicule, “I will be
with you in a moment; it is but a minute since we were awoke by
the uproar.”

“Be quick!” Beric said, “there is not a moment to be lost.

“Run up to the women’s apartments,” he said to a slave, “and
tell your mistress to hurry down, for that every minute is
precious.”

Almost immediately Berenice came down the stairs in her
disguise as a British boy, and at the same moment Cneius issued
from his room.

“Come, Berenice,” Beric said, “there is not a moment to be
lost; the town is in our hands, and if others of the tribe arrive
I might not be able to save you.”

Hurrying them from the house he ordered the men to close round
them, and then started on his way back. A terrible din was going
on all round; yells, shouts, and screams arising from every
house. flames were bursting up at a dozen points. To his great
satisfaction Beric reached the point where the Sarci were at
work, breaking into the houses, before he encountered any of the
other Iceni. The men were too busy to pay any attention to the
little group of their own tribesmen; passing through these they
were soon at the gate. It already stood open, the bolts having
been drawn by those who first entered. Fifty yards from the wall
stood the chariot.

“Now you can leave us,” Beric said to his followers, “I will
rejoin you soon.”

Berenice was crying bitterly, horror stricken at the sounds
she had heard, though happily she had seen nothing, being closely
shut in by the tall forms of her guard.

“Thanks be to the gods that I have saved you, Berenice,” Beric
said, “and you also, Cneius! Now I must commit you to the care of
the driver of the chariot, who is one of my tribesmen. He will
take you to a retreat where you will, I trust, be in perfect
safety until the troubles are over. His mother has promised to do
all in her power for your comfort. You will find one of our huts
but a rough abode, but it will at least be a shelter.”

“Cannot you come with us, Beric?” the girl sobbed.

“That I cannot do, Berenice. I am a Briton and a chief, and I
must be with my tribe. And now I must away. Farewell, Berenice!
may your gods and mine watch over you! Farewell, my kind
teacher!”

He took off the torque, the collar formed of a number of small
metal cords interlaced with each other, the emblem of rank and
command, and handed it to the driver. “You will show this, Runoc,
to any you meet, for it may be that you will find parties of late
comers on the road. This will be a proof that you are journeying
on my business and under my orders. Do not stop and let them
question you, but drive quickly along, and if they should shout
and bid you stop, hold up the torque and shout, ‘I travel at
speed by my chief’s orders.’

“Do you both sit down in the chariot,” he said to the others.
“Then as you journey rapidly along it will be supposed that you
are either wounded or messengers of importance. Farewell!”

Cneius and the girl had already mounted the chariot, and the
driver now gave the horses rein and started at full speed. Beric
turned and re-entered the town slowly. In those days pity for the
vanquished was a sentiment but little comprehended, and he had
certainly not learned it among the Romans, who frequently
massacred their prisoners wholesale. Woe to the vanquished! was
almost a maxim with them. But Beric shrank from witnessing the
scene, now that the tables were turned upon the oppressors.
Nationally he hated the Romans, but individually he had no
feeling against them, and had he had the power he would at once
have arrested the effusion of blood. He wished to drive them from
the kingdom, not to massacre them; but he knew well that he had
no power whatever in such a matter. Even his own tribesmen would
not have stayed their hand at his command. To slay a Roman was to
them a far more meritorious action than to slay a wolf, and any
one who urged mercy would have been regarded not only as a
weakling but as a traitor.

Already the work was well nigh done. Pouring in on all sides
into the city the Iceni had burst into the houses and slain their
occupants whether they resisted or not. A few men here and there
sold their lives dearly, but the great majority had been too
panic stricken with the sudden danger to attempt the slightest
resistance. Some of the inhabitants whose houses were near the
temple had fled thither for refuge before the assailants reached
them, but in half an hour from the striking of the first blow
these and the troops there were the sole survivors of the
population of Camalodunum. For the present the temple was
disregarded. It was known that the garrison did not exceed four
hundred men, and there was no fear of so small a body assuming
the offensive.

The work of destruction had commenced. There was but little
plundering, for the Britons despised the Roman luxuries, of the
greater part of which they did not even comprehend the use. They
were Roman, and therefore to be hated as well as despised. Save,
therefore, weapons, which were highly prized, and gold ornaments,
which were taken as trinkets for the women at home, nothing was
saved. As the defenders of each house were slain, fire was
applied to hangings and curtains, and then the assailants hurried
away in search of fresh victims. Thus the work of destruction
proceeded concurrently with that of massacre, and as the sun rose
vast columns of smoke mounting upwards conveyed the news to the
women of the Iceni and Trinobantes for a circle of many miles
round, that the attack had been successful, and that Camalodunum,
the seat of their oppressors, was in flames. Beric, as he made
his way towards the centre of the town, sighed as he passed the
shop where two months before he had stopped a moment to look at
the rolls of vellum.

The destruction of the monuments of Roman luxury; the houses
with their costly contents; and even the Palace of Cunobeline,
which had been converted into the residence of the Roman
governor, had not affected him; but he mourned over the loss of
the precious manuscripts which had contained such a wealth of
stored up learning. Already the house was wrapped in flames,
which were rushing from the windows, and the prize which he had
looked upon as his own special share of the plunder had escaped
him.

At the edge of the broad open space that surrounded the Temple
of Claudius the Britons were gathering thickly. Beric applied his
horn to his lips, and in a few minutes the Sarci gathered round
him. Bidding them stand in order he moved away to see what
disposition was being made for the attack on the temple, but at
present all were too excited with their success for any to assume
the lead or give orders. At the first rush parties of the Britons
had made for the temple, but had been received with showers of
darts and stones, and had been met on the steps by the Roman
soldiers and roughly repulsed. Walking round he came upon the
chariot of Boadicea. The queen was flushed with excitement and
gratified vengeance, and was shaking her spear menacingly towards
the temple; her eye presently fell upon Beric.

“The work has begun well, my young chief, but we have still to
crush the wolves in their den. It is a strong place, with its
massive walls unpierced save by the doorway at each end; but we
will have them out if to do so we are forced to tear it down
stone by stone.”

“I trust that we shall not be as long as that would take,
queen,” Beric said, “for we have other work to do.”

Just at this moment one of the chiefs of the Trinobantes came
up. “Queen Boadicea,” he said, “we crave that we may be allowed
to storm the temple. It is built on our ground as a sign of our
subjection, and we would fain ourselves capture it.”

“Be it so,” the queen replied. “Do you undertake the task at
once.”

The Trinobantes, who had joined the Iceni in the attack on the
town, presently gathered with loud shouts, and under their chiefs
rushed at the temple. From the roof darts and stones were
showered down upon them; but though many were killed they swarmed
up the broad steps that surrounded it on all sides and attacked
the doors. Beric shook his head, and returning to his men led
them off down one of the broad streets to an open space a short
distance away.

“This will be our gathering place,” he said. “Do not wander
far away, and return quickly at the sound of my horn. We may be
wanted presently. I do not think that the Trinobantes will take
the temple in that fashion.”

They had indeed advanced entirely unprovided with proper means
of assault. The massive gates against which the Romans had piled
stones, casks of provisions, and other heavy articles were not to
be broken down by such force as the Britons could bring against
them. In vain these chopped with their swords upon the woodwork.
The gates were constructed of oak, and the weapons scarce marked
them. In vain they threw themselves twenty abreast against them.
The doors hardly quivered at the shock, and in the meantime the
assailants were suffering heavily, for from openings in the roof,
extending from the building itself to the pillars that surrounded
it, the Romans dropped missiles upon them.

For some time the Trinobantes persevered, and then their
chiefs, seeing that the attempt was hopeless, called off their
followers. No fresh attempt was made for a time, and Boadicea
established herself in one of the few houses that had escaped the
flames, and there presently the chiefs assembled. Various
suggestions were made, but at last it was decided to batter in
the doors with a heavy tree, and a strong party of men were at
once despatched to fell and prepare two of suitable size. The
operation was a long one, as the trees when found had to be
brought down by lighting fires against the trunks, and it was
nightfall before they fell and the branches were cut off. It was
decided, therefore, to postpone the attack until the next
day.

Beric had not been present at the council, to which only a few
of the leading chiefs had been summoned; but he doubted, when he
heard what had been decided upon, whether the attack would be
successful. It was settled that the Trinobantes were to attack
the door at one end of the temple, and the Iceni that at the
other. Late in the evening the chariot returned, and Beric was
greatly relieved to hear that the fugitives had been placed in
safety and that the journey had been made without interference.
He was glad to recover his torque, for its absence would have
excited surprise when men’s minds were less occupied and excited.
Not until he recovered it could he go to see Parta, who was
lodged with the queen, but as soon as he recovered it he went in.
Every sign of Roman habitation and luxury had been, as far as
possible, obliterated by order of Boadicea before she entered the
house. Hangings had been pulled down, statues overthrown, and the
paintings on the plaster chipped from the walls.

“What have you been doing all day, Beric?” his mother asked.
“I looked to see you long before this, and should have thought
that some accident had befallen you had I not known that the news
would have been speedily brought me had it been so.”

“I have been looking after the tribesmen, mother. I should
have come in to see you, but did not wish to intrude among the
chiefs in council with the queen. You represented the Sarci here,
and had we been wanted you would have sent for me. Who are to
attack the temple tomorrow?”

“Not the Sarci, my son. Unser begged that he and his tribe
might have the honour, and the queen and council granted it to
him.”

“I am glad of it, mother. The duty is an honourable one, but
the loss will be heavy, and others can do the work as well as we
could, and I want to keep our men for the shock of battle with
the legions. Moreover, I doubt whether the doors will be battered
down in the way they propose.”

“You do, Beric! and why is that?” The speaker was Aska, who
had just left the group of chiefs gathered round the queen at the
other end of the apartment, and had come close without Beric
hearing him.

The lad coloured. “I spoke only for my mother’s hearing, sir,”
he said. “To no one else should I have ventured to express an
opinion on a course agreed upon by those who are older and wiser
than myself.”

“That is right, Beric; the young should be silent in the
presence of their elders; nevertheless I should like to know why
you think the assault is likely to fail.”

“It was really not my own opinion I was giving, sir. I was
thinking of the manner in which the Romans, who are accustomed to
besiege places with high walls and strong gates, proceed. They
have made these matters a study, while to us an attack upon such
a place is altogether new, seeing that none such exist in Britain
save those the Romans have erected.”

“How would they proceed, Beric?”

“They would treat an attack upon such a place as a serious
matter, not to be undertaken rashly and hastily, but only after
great preparation. In order to batter down a gate or a wall they
use heavy beams, such as those that have been prepared for
tomorrow, but they affix to the head a shoe of iron or brass.
They do not swing it upon men’s arms, seeing that it would be
most difficult to get so many men to exercise their strength
together, and indeed could not give it the momentum
required.”

“But we propose to have the beam carried by fifty men, and for
all to rush forward together and drive it against the door.”

“If the door were weak and would yield to the first blow that
might avail,” Beric said; “but unless it does so the shock will
throw down the tree and the men bearing it. Many will be
grievously hurt. Moreover, if, as will surely be the case, many
of the bearers fall under the darts of the Romans as they
approach, others will stumble over their bodies, and the speed of
the whole be greatly checked.”

“Then can you tell me how the Romans act in such a case,
Beric?”

“Yes, sir. I have frequently heard relations of sieges from
soldiers who have taken part in them. They build, in the first
place, movable towers or sheds running on wheels. These towers
are made strong enough to resist the stones and missiles the
besieged may hurl against them. Under cover of the shelter men
push up the towers to the door or wall to be battered; the beam
is then slung on ropes hanging from the inside of the tower.
Other ropes are attached; numbers of men take hold of these, and
working together swing the beam backwards and forwards, so that
each time it strikes the wall or door a heavy blow. As the beam
is of great weight, and many men work it, the blows are well nigh
irresistible, and the strongest walls crumble and the most
massive gates splinter under the shock of its iron head.”

“The Romans truly are skilled warriors,” Aska said. “We are
but children in the art of war beside them, and methinks it would
be difficult indeed for us to construct such a machine, though
mayhap it could be done had we with us many men skilled in the
making of chariots. But sometimes, Beric, they must have occasion
to attack places where such machines could not well be used.”

“In that case, sir, they sometimes make what they call a
tortoise. The soldiers link their broad shields together, so as
to form a complete covering, resembling the back of a tortoise,
and under shelter of this they advance to the attack. When they
reach the foot of the wall all remain immovable save those in the
front line, who labour with iron bars to loosen the stones at the
foot of the wall, protected from missiles from above by the
shields of their comrades. From time to time they are relieved by
fresh workers until the foundations of the wall are deeply
undermined. As they proceed they erect massive props to keep up
the wall, and finally fill up the hole with combustibles. After
lighting these they retire. When the props are consumed the wall
of course falls, and they then rush forward and climb the
breach.”

“Truly, Beric, you have profited by your lessons,” Aska said,
laying his hand kindly on the lad’s shoulder. “The Druids spoke
wisely when they prophesied a great future for you. Before we
have done we may have many Roman strongholds to capture, and when
we do I will see that the council order that your advice be taken
as to how they shall be attacked; but in this matter tomorrow
things must remain as they are. Unser is a proud chief, and
headstrong, and would not brook any interference. Should he be
repulsed in the assault, I will advise the queen to call up the
Sarci, and allow you to proceed in your own manner.”

“I will do my best, sir; but time is needed for proceeding
according to the first Roman method, and our shields are too
small for the second. The place should be taken by tomorrow
night, for Cerealis will assuredly move with his legion to
relieve it as soon as he hears the news of our attack.”

“That is what has been in our minds,” Aska said. “Well, what
do you say, Beric? After what I saw the other day of the
movements you have taught your tribe I should be sorry to have
their ranks thinned in a hopeless attack upon the temple. I would
rather that we should leave it for the present and march out to
meet Cerealis, leaving a guard here to keep the Romans hemmed in
until we have time to deal with them.”

Beric stood for a minute or two without answering, and then
said, “I will undertake it, sir, with the Sarci should Unser’s
attack fail.”

CHAPTER VI: FIRST SUCCESSES

Upon leaving his mother, Beric returned to the spot where the
Sarci were lying. Some of the chiefs were sitting round a fire
made of beams and woodwork dragged from the ruins of the Roman
houses.

“We must be up an hour before daybreak; I think that there
will be work for us tomorrow. If Unser and his tribe fail in
capturing the temple we are to try; and there will be
preparations to make.” And he explained the plan upon which he
had determined.

Daylight was just breaking when the Sarci entered the forest
four miles from Camalodunum. Here they scattered in search of dry
wood. In two hours sufficient had been gathered for their
purpose, and it was made up into two hundred great faggots nearly
four feet across and ten in length, in weight as much as a strong
man could carry on his head. With these they returned to the
city. It needed no questions as to the result of the attack,
which had just terminated with the same fortune that had befallen
that on the day previous. Unser had been killed, and large
numbers of his men had fallen in their vain attempts to hew down
the gates. The battering rams had proved a complete failure. Many
of the fifty men who carried the beam had fallen as they
advanced. The others had rushed at the gate door, but the recoil
had thrown them down, and many had had their limbs broken from
the tree falling on them. Attempts had been made to repeat the
assault; but the Romans having pierced the under part of the roof
in many places, let fall javelins and poured down boiling oil;
and at last, having done all that was possible, but in vain, the
tribesmen had fallen back.

Beric proceeded at once to the queen’s. A council was being
held, and it had just been determined to march away to meet
Cerealis when Beric entered. Aska left his place in the circle of
chiefs as soon as he saw him enter the door.

“Are you ready to undertake it, Beric? Do not do so unless you
have strong hopes of success. The repulses of yesterday and today
have lowered the spirits of our men, and another failure would
still further harm us.”

“I will undertake it, Aska, and I think I can answer for
success; but I shall need three hours before I begin.”

“That could be spared,” the chief said. “Cerealis will not
have learned the news until last night at the earliest–he may
not know it yet. There is no fear of his arriving here until
tomorrow.” Then he returned to his place.

“Before we finally decide, queen,” he said, “I would tell you
that the young chief Beric is ready to attack the place with the
Sarci. He has learned much of the Roman methods, and may be more
fortunate than the others have been. I would suggest that he be
allowed to try, for it will have a very ill effect upon the
tribes if we fail in taking the temple, which is regarded as the
symbol of Roman dominion. I will even go so far as to say that a
retreat now would go very far to mar our hopes of success in the
war, for the news would spread through the country and dispirit
others now preparing to join us.”

“Why should Beric succeed when Unser has failed?” one of the
chiefs said. “Can a lad achieve a success where one of our best
and bravest chiefs has been repulsed?”

“I think that he might,” Aska replied. “At any rate, as he is
ready to risk his life and his tribe in doing so, I pray the
queen to give her consent. He demands three hours to make his
preparations for the attack.”

“He shall try,” Boadicea said decidedly. “You saw the other
day, chiefs, how well he has learned the Roman methods of war. He
shall have an opportunity now of turning his knowledge to
account. Parta, you are willing that your son should try?”

“Certainly I am willing,” Parta said. “He can but die once; he
cannot die in a nobler effort for his country.”

“Then it is settled,” the queen said. “The Sarci will attack
in three hours.”

As soon as Beric heard the decision he hurried away and at
once ordered the tribesmen to scatter through the country and to
kill two hundred of the cattle roaming at present masterless, to
strip off their hides, and bring them in. They returned before
the three hours expired, bringing in the hides. In the meantime
Beric had procured from a half consumed warehouse a quantity of
oil, pitch, and other combustibles, and had smeared the faggots
with them. On the arrival of the men with the hides, these were
bound with the raw side upwards over the faggots.

Two hundred of the strongest men of the tribe were then chosen
and divided into two parties, and the rest being similarly
divided, took their station at the ends of the square facing the
gates. When Beric sounded his horn the faggot bearers raised
their burdens on to their heads and formed in a close square, ten
abreast, with the faggots touching each other. Beric himself
commanded the party facing the principal entrance, and holding a
blazing torch in each hand, took his place in the centre of the
square, there being ample room for him between the lines of men.
The rest of the tribe were ordered to stand firmly in order until
he gave the signal for the advance. Then he again sounded his
horn, and the two parties advanced from the opposite ends of the
square.

As soon as they came within reach the Romans showered down
darts and javelins; but these either slipped altogether from the
surface of the wet hides, or, penetrating them, went but a short
distance into the faggots; and the British tribesmen raised
shouts of exultation as the two solid bodies advanced unshaken to
the steps of the temple. Mounting these they advanced to the
gates. In vain the Romans dropped their javelins perpendicularly
through the holes in the ceiling of the colonnade, in vain poured
down streams of boiling oil, which had proved so fatal to the
last attack. The javelins failed to penetrate, the oil streamed
harmless off the hides. The men had, before advancing, received
minute instructions. The ten men in the front line piled their
faggots against the door, and then keeping close to the wall of
the temple itself, slipped round to the side colonnade.

The operation was repeated by the next line, and so on until
but two lines remained. Then the two men at each end of these
lines mounted the pile of faggots and placed their burdens there,
leaving but six standing. In their centre Beric had his place,
and now, kneeling down under their shelter, applied his torches
to the pile. He waited till he saw the flames beginning to mount
up. Then he gave the word; the six men dropped their faggots to
the ground, and with him ran swiftly to the side colonnade, where
they were in shelter, as the Romans, knowing they could not be
attacked here, had made no openings in the ceiling above. The
Britons were frantic with delight when they saw columns of smoke
followed by tongues of flames mounting from either end of the
temple. Higher and higher the flames mounted till they licked the
ceiling above them.

For half an hour the fire continued, and by the end of that
time there was but a glowing mass of embers through which those
without could soon see right into the temple. The doors and the
obstacles behind them had been destroyed. As soon as he was aware
by the shouts of his countrymen that the faggots were well in a
blaze, Beric had sounded his horn, and he and the tribesmen from
both colonnades had run across the open unmolested by the darts
of the Romans, who were too panic stricken at the danger that
threatened them to pay any heed to their movements. Beric was
received with loud acclamations by the Iceni, and was escorted by
a shouting multitude to the queen, who had taken her place at a
point where she could watch the operations. She held out her hand
to him. “You have succeeded, Beric,” she said; “and my thanks and
those of all here–nay, of all Britain–are due to you. In
half an hour the temple will be open to attack.”

“Hardly in that time, queen,” he replied. “The faggots will
doubtless have done their work by then, but it will be hours
before the embers and stonework will be sufficiently cool to
enable men to pass over them to the assault.”

“We can wait,” the queen said. “A messenger, who left the camp
of Cerealis at daybreak, has just arrived, and at that hour
nothing was known to the Romans of our attack here. They will not
now arrive until tomorrow.”

Not until the afternoon was it considered that the entrances
would be cool enough to pass through. Then the Sarci prepared for
the attack, binding pieces of raw hide under their feet to
protect them from the heated stonework. They were formed ten
abreast. Beric took his place before the front line of one of the
columns, and with levelled spears they advanced at a run towards
the doors. A shower of missiles saluted them from the roof. Some
fell, but the rest, pressing on in close order, dashed through
the gateway and flung themselves upon the Roman soldiers drawn up
to oppose their passage. The resistance was feeble. The Romans
had entirely lost heart and could not for a moment sustain the
weight of the charge. They were swept away from the entrance, and
the Britons poured in.

Standing in groups the Romans defended themselves in
desperation; but their efforts were vain, and in five minutes the
last defender of the place was slain. As soon as the fight was
over the whole of the Iceni rushed tumultuously forward with
exultant shouts and filled the temple; then a horn sounded and a
lane was made, as Boadicea, followed by her chiefs and
chieftainesses, entered the temple. The queen’s face was radiant
with triumph, and she would have spoken but the shouting was so
loud that those near her could not obtain silence. They
understood, however, when advancing to the statues of the gods
that stood behind the altars, she waved her spear. In an instant
the tribesmen swarmed round the statues, ropes were attached to
the massive figures, and Jupiter, Mars, and Minerva fell to the
ground with a crash, as did the statue of the Emperor
Claudius.

A mighty shout hailed its downfall. The gods of the Britons,
insulted and outraged, were avenged upon those of Rome; the
altars of Mona had streamed with the blood of the Druids, those
of Camalodunum were wet with the gore of Roman legionaries. The
statues were broken to pieces, the altars torn down, and then the
chiefs ordered the tribesmen to fetch in faggots. Thousands went
to the forest, while others pulled down detached houses and sheds
that had escaped the flames, and dragged the beams and woodwork
to the temple. By nightfall an enormous pile of faggots was
raised round each of the eight interior columns that in two lines
supported the roof. Torches were applied by Boadicea, her two
daughters and some of the principal Druids, and in a short time
the interior of the temple was a glowing furnace. The beams of
the ceiling and roof soon ignited and the flames shot up high
into the air.

All day the Trinobantes had been pouring in, and a perfect
frenzy of delight reigned among the great crowd looking on at the
destruction of the temple that had been raised to signify and
celebrate the subjugation of Britain. Women with flowing hair
performed wild dances of triumph; some rushed about as if
possessed with madness, uttering prophecies of the total
destruction of the Romans; others foamed at the mouth and fell in
convulsions, while the men were scarcely less excited over their
success. Messengers had already brought in news that at midday
Cerealis had learned that Camalodunum had been attacked, and that
the legion was to start on the following morning to relieve the
town.

The news had been taken to him by one of the Trinobantes, who
had received his instructions from Aska. He was to say that the
town had suddenly been attacked and that many had fallen; but the
greater portion of the population had escaped to the temple,
which had been vainly attacked by the Iceni. The object of this
news was to induce Cerealis to move out from his fortified camp.
The chiefs felt the difficulty of assaulting such a position, and
though they had dreaded the arrival of Cerealis before the temple
was taken, they were anxious that he should set out as soon as
they saw that Beric’s plan of attack had succeeded, and that the
temple was now open to their assault.

At midnight the roof of the temple fell in, and nothing
remained but the bare walls and the columns surrounding them. The
chiefs ordered their followers to make their way through the
still burning town and to gather by tribes outside the defensive
works, and there lie down until morning, when they would march to
meet the legion of Cerealis. At daybreak they were again afoot
and on the march southward, swollen by the accession of the
Trinobantes and by the arrival during the last two days of tribes
who had been too late to join the rest at Cardun. The British
force now numbered at least fifty thousand.

“It is a great army, Beric,” Boduoc said exultingly as they
moved forward.

“It is a great host,” Beric replied. “I would that it were an
army. Had they all even as much training as our men I should feel
confident in the future.”

“But surely you are confident now, Beric; we have begun
well.”

“We have scarcely begun at all,” Beric said. “What have we
done? Destroyed a sleeping town and captured by means of fire a
temple defended by four hundred men. We shall win today, that I
do not doubt. The men are wrought up by their success, and the
Romans are little prepared to meet such a force–I doubt not
that we shall beat them, but to crush a legion is not to defeat
Rome. I hope, Boduoc, but I do not feel confident. Look back at
the Sarci and then look round at this disordered host. Well, the
Romans in discipline and order exceed the Sarci as much as we
exceed the rest of the Iceni. They will be led by generals
trained in war; we are led by chiefs whose only idea of war is to
place themselves at the head of their tribe and rush against the
enemy. Whether courage and great numbers can compensate for want
of discipline remains to be seen. The history of Rome tells me
that it has never done so yet.”

After five hours’ marching some fleet footed scouts sent on
ahead brought in the news that the Romans were approaching. A
halt was called, and the chiefs assembled round the queen’s
chariot in council. Beric was summoned by a messenger from the
queen.

“You must always attend our councils,” she said when he came
up. “You have proved that, young as you are, you possess a
knowledge of war that more than compensates for your lack of
years. You have the right, after capturing the temple for us, to
take for the Sarci the post of honour in today’s battle. Choose
it for yourself. You know the Romans; where do you think we had
better fight them?”

“I think we could not do better than await them here,” he
said. “We stand on rising ground, and one of the Trinobantes to
whom I have just spoken says that there is a swamp away on the
left of our front, so that the Roman horsemen cannot advance in
that direction. I should attack them in face and on their left
flank, closing in thickly so as to prevent their horsemen from
breaking out on to the plain at our right and then falling upon
us in our rear. Since you are good enough to say that I may
choose my post for the Sarci, I will hold them where they stand;
then, should the others fail to break the Roman front, we will
move down upon them and check their advance while the rest attack
their flanks.”

This answer pleased some of the chiefs, who felt jealous of
the honour the small tribe had gained on the previous day. They
were afraid that Beric would have chosen to head the attack.

“Does that plan please you?” Boadicea asked.

“It is as well as another,” one of the chiefs said. “Let the
Sarci look on this time while we destroy the enemy. I should have
thought Beric would have chosen for his tribe the post of honour
in the attack.”

“The Romans always keep their best troops in reserve,” Beric
said quietly; “in a hard fight it is the reserve that decides the
fate of the battle.”

“Then let it be so,” Boadicea said. “Is the swamp that you
speak of deep?”

“It is not too deep for our men to cross,” one of the chiefs
of the Trinobantes said; “but assuredly a horseman could not pass
through it.”

“Very well, then, let the Trinobantes attack by falling upon
the Romans on our right; the Iceni will attack them in front; and
the Sarci will remain where they stand until Beric sees need for
them to advance.”

In a few minutes the Roman legion was seen advancing, with a
portion of the cavalry in front and the rest in the rear. The
queen, whose chariot was placed in front of the line, raised her
spear. A tremendous shout was raised by the Britons, and with
wild cries the tribes poured down to the attack, while the women,
clustered on the slopes they had left, added their shrill cries
of encouragement to the din. The Romans, who, believing that the
Britons were still engaged in the attack on Camalodunum, had no
expectation of meeting them on the march, halted and stood
uncertain as the masses of Britons poured down to the attack.
Then their trumpets sounded and they again advanced, the cavalry
in the rear moving forward to join those in the advance, but
before they accomplished this the Britons were upon them. Showers
of darts were poured in, and the horsemen, unable to stand the
onslaught, rode into the spaces between the companies of the
infantry, who, moving outwards and forming a solid column on
either flank, protected them from the assaults of their foes.

The Britons, after pouring in showers of javelins, flung
themselves, sword in hand, upon the Roman infantry; but these
with levelled spears showed so solid a front that they were
unable to break through, while from behind the spearmen, the
light armed Roman troops poured volleys of missiles among them.
Boadicea called Beric to her side.

“It is as you said, Beric; the order in which the Romans fight
is wonderful. See how steadily they hold together, it is like a
wild boar attacked by dogs; but they will be overwhelmed, see how
the darts fly and how bravely the Iceni are fighting.”

The tribesmen, indeed, were attacking with desperate bravery.
Seizing the heads of the spears they attempted to wrest them from
their holders, or to thrust them aside and push forward within
striking distance. Sometimes they partially succeeded, and though
the first might fall others rushing in behind reached the Romans
and pressed them backwards, but reserves were brought up and the
line restored. Then slowly but steadily the Romans moved forward,
and although partial success had at some points attended those
who attacked them in flank, the front of the column with serried
spears held its way on in spite of the efforts of the Britons to
arrest the movement. Presently the supply of javelins of their
assailants began to fail, and the assaults upon the head of the
column to grow more feeble, while the shouts of the Roman
soldiers rose above the cries of their assailants.

“Now it is time for us to move down,” Beric said; “if we can
arrest the advance their flanks will be broken in before long.
Now, men,” he shouted as he returned to his place at the head of
the Sarci, “now is the time to show that you can meet the Romans
in their own fashion. Move slowly down to the attack, let no man
hasten his pace, but let each keep his place in the ranks. Four
companies will attack the Romans in front, the others in column
five deep will march down till they face the Roman flank, then
they will march at it, spears down, and break it in.”

Beric sounded his bugle, and ten deep the four hundred men
moved steadily down to the attack of the Romans. The five front
ranks marched with levelled spears, those behind prepared to hurl
their darts over their heads. When within fifty yards of the
enemy the Sarci raised their battle cry, and the Iceni engaged
with the Romans in front, seeing the hedge of spears advancing
behind them, hurriedly ran off at both flanks and the Sarci
advanced to the attack.

The Romans halted involuntarily, astonished at the spectacle.
Never before had they encountered barbarians advancing in
formation similar to their own, and the sight of the tall figures
advancing almost naked to the assault–for the Britons always
threw off their garments before fighting–filled them with
something like consternation. At the shouts of their officers,
however, they again got into motion and met the Britons firmly.
The additional length Beric had given to the spears of the Sarci
now proved of vital advantage, and bearing steadily onward they
brought the Romans to a standstill, while the javelins from the
British rear ranks fell thick and fast among them. Gradually the
Romans were pressed backwards, quickly as the gaps were filled up
by those behind, until the charging shout of the Sarci on their
flank was heard. Beric blew his horn, and his men with an
answering shout pressed forward faster, their cries of victory
rising as the Romans gave way.

Still the latter fought stubbornly, until triumphant yells and
confused shouts told them that the flank had given way under the
attack of the Britons. Then Beric’s horn sounded again, the slow
advance was converted into a charge, the ranks behind closed up,
and before the weight and impetus of the rush the Roman line was
broken. Then the impetuosity of the Sarci could no longer be
restrained, in vain Beric blew his horn. Flinging down their
spears and drawing their swords the Britons flung themselves on
the broken mass, the other tribesmen pouring in tumultuously
behind them.

For a few minutes a desperate conflict raged, each man
fighting for himself, but numbers prevailed, the Roman shouts
became feebler, the war cries of the Britons louder and more
triumphant. In ten minutes the fight was over, more than two
thousand Roman soldiers lay dead, while Cerealis and the cavalry,
bursting their way through their assailants, alone escaped,
galloping off at full speed towards the refuge of their fortified
camp. The exultation of the Britons knew no bounds. They had for
the first time since the Romans set foot on their shore beaten
them in a fair fight in the open. There was a rush to collect the
arms, shields, and helmets of the fallen Romans, and two of the
Sarci presently brought the standards of the legion to Beric.

“Follow me with them,” he said, and, extricating himself from
the throng, ascended the slope to where Boadicea, surrounded with
women who were dancing and joining in a triumphant chant of
victory, was still standing in her chariot.

“Here are the Roman standards, the emblems of victory,” Beric
said as he approached the chariot.

Boadicea sprang down, and advancing to him, embraced him
warmly. “The victory is yours, Beric,” she said. “Keep these two
eagles, and fix them in your hall, so that your children’s
children may point to them with pride and say, ‘It was Beric,
chief of the Sarci, who first overthrew the Romans in the field.’
But there is no time to be lost;” and she turned to her
charioteer, who carried a horn. “Sound the summons for the chiefs
to assemble.”

There were several missing, for the Britons had suffered
heavily in their first attack.

“Chiefs,” she said, “let us not lose an instant, but press on
after the Romans. Let us strike before they recover from their
confusion and surprise. Catus Decianus may be in their camp, and
while I seek no other spoil, him I must have to wreak my
vengeance on. See that a party remain to look to the wounded, and
that such as need it are taken to their homes in wagons.” The
horns were at once sounded, the tribesmen flocked back to the
positions from which they had charged, and resumed their
garments. Then the march was continued.

They presented a strange appearance now. Almost every man had
taken possession of some portion or other of the Romans’ arms.
Some had helmets, others shields, others breastplates, swords, or
spears. The helmets, however, were speedily taken off and slung
behind them, the heads of the Iceni being vastly larger than
those of the Romans, the tallest of whom they overtopped by fully
six inches. The arms of the officer who commanded under Cerealis
were offered to Beric, but he refused them.

“I fight to drive the Romans from our land,” he said, “and not
for spoil. Nothing of theirs will I touch, but will return to the
forest when all is over just as I left it.”

By evening they approached the Roman camp. A portion of the
legion had been left there when Cerealis set out, and in the
light of the setting sun the helmets and spearheads could be seen
above the massive palisades that rose on the top of the outworks.
The Britons halted half a mile away, fires were lighted, and the
men sat down to feast upon the meat that had been brought in
wagons from Camalodunum. Then a council was held. As a rule, the
British councils were attended by all able bodied men. The power
of the chiefs, except in actual war, was very small, for the
Britons, like their Gaulish ancestors, considered every man to be
equal, and each had a voice in the management of affairs. Thus
every chief had, before taking up arms, held a council of his
tribesmen, and it was only after they had given their vote for
war that he possessed any distinct power and control.

When the council began, one of the chiefs of the Trinobantes
was asked first to give a minute description of the Roman camp.
The works were formidable. Surrounding it was a broad and deep
fosse, into which a stream was turned. Beyond this there was a
double vallum or wall of earth so steep as to be climbed with
great difficulty. In the hollow between the two walls sharp
stakes were set thickly together. The second wall was higher than
the first, and completely commanded it. Along its top ran a solid
palisade of massive beams, behind which the earth was banked up
to within some three and a half feet from the top, affording a
stand for the archers, slingers, and spearmen.

The council was animated, but the great majority of chiefs
were in favour of leaving this formidable position untouched, and
falling upon places that offered a chance of an easier capture.
The British in their tribal wars fought largely for the sake of
plunder. In their first burst of fury at Camalodunum they had,
contrary to their custom, sought only to destroy; but their
thirst for blood was now appeased, they longed for the rich
spoils of the Roman cities, both as trophies of victory and to
adorn their women. The chiefs represented that already many of
their bravest tribesmen had fallen, and it would be folly to risk
a heavy loss in the attack upon such a position.

What matter, they argued, if two or three hundred Romans were
left there for the present? They could do no harm, and could be
either captured by force or obliged to surrender by hunger after
Suetonius and the Roman army had been destroyed. Not a day should
be lost, they contended, in marching upon Verulamium, after which
London could be sacked, for, although far inferior in size and
importance to Camalodunum and Verulamium, it was a rising town,
inhabited by large numbers of merchants and traders, who imported
goods from Gaul and distributed them over the country.

Beric’s opinion was in favour of an instant assault, and in
this he was supported by Aska and two or three of the older
chiefs; but the majority were the other way, and the policy of
leaving altogether the fortified posts garrisoned by the Romans
to be dealt with after the Roman army had been met and destroyed
was decided upon. One of the arguments employed was that while
the capture of these places would be attended with considerable
loss, it would add little to the effect that the news of the
destruction of the chief Roman towns would have upon the tribes
throughout the whole country, and would take so long that
Suetonius might return in time to succour the most important
places before the work was done. Aska walked away from the
council with Beric.

“They have decided wrongly,” he said.

“I do not think it much matters,” Beric replied. “Everything
hangs at present upon the result of our battle with Suetonius. If
we win, all the detached forts must surrender; if we lose, what
matters it?”

“You think we shall lose, Beric?”

“I do not say that,” Beric said; “but see how it was today.
The Iceni made no more impression upon the Roman column than if
they had been attacking a wall. They hindered themselves by their
very numbers, and by the time we meet the Romans our numbers will
be multiplied by five, perhaps by ten. But shall we be any
stronger thereby? Will not rather the confusion be greater? Today
the Roman horse fled; but had they charged among us, small as was
their number, what confusion would they have made in our ranks! A
single Briton is a match for a single Roman, and more. Ten Romans
fighting in order might repel the assault of a hundred, and as
the numbers multiply so does the advantage of discipline
increase. I hope for victory, Aska, but I cannot say that I feel
confident of it.”

Marching next morning against Verulamium, they arrived there
in the afternoon and at once attacked it. The resistance was
feeble, and bursting through in several places the Iceni and
Trinobantes spread over the town, slaughtering all they found.
Not only the Romans, but the Gauls settled in the city, and such
Britons as had adopted Roman customs were put to the sword. The
city was then sacked and set on fire. It was now decided that
instead of turning towards London they should march west in order
that they might be joined by other tribes on their way and meet
Suetonius returning from Wales.

There was no haste in their movements. They advanced by easy
stages, their numbers swelling every day, tribe after tribe
joining them, as the news spread of the capture and destruction
of the two chief Roman towns, and the defeat and annihilation of
one of the legions. So they marched until, a fortnight after the
capture of Verulamium, the news arrived that Suetonius, marching
with all speed towards the east, had already passed them,
gathering up on his way the garrisons of all the fortified posts.
Then the great host turned and marched east again. Beric
regretted deeply the course that had been taken. Had the
garrisons all been attacked and destroyed separately, the army
they would have to encounter would have been a little more than
half the strength of that which Suetonius would be able to put
into the field when he collected all the garrisons.

But the Britons troubled themselves in no way. They regarded
victory as certain, and expressed exultation that they should
crush all the Romans at one blow in the open field, instead of
being forced to undertake a number of separate sieges. Still
marching easily, they came down upon the valley of the Thames and
followed it until they arrived at London. They had expected that
Suetonius would give battle before they arrived there. He had
indeed passed through the town a few days previously, but had
disregarded the prayers of the inhabitants to remain for their
protection. He allowed all males who chose to do so to enlist in
the ranks and permitted others to accompany the army, but he
wished before fighting to be joined by Cerealis and the survivors
of his legion, and by the garrisons of other fortified posts. The
Britons therefore fell upon London, slaughtered all the
inhabitants, and sacked and burned the town. It was calculated
that here and in the two Roman cities no less than 80,000 persons
had been slain. This accomplished, the great host again set out
in search of Suetonius. They were accompanied now by a vast train
of wagons and chariots carrying the women and spoil.

Beric was not present at the sack of London. As they
approached the town and it became known that Suetonius had
marched away, and that there would be no resistance, he struck
off north. Since they had left Verulamium the tribesmen had given
up marching in military order. They were very proud of the credit
they had gained in the battle with the Romans, but said that they
did not see any use in marching tediously abreast when there was
no enemy near. Beric having no power whatever to compel them,
told them that of course they could do as they liked, but that
they would speedily forget all they had learned. But the
impatience of restraint of any kind, or of doing anything unless
perfectly disposed to do it, which was a British characteristic,
was too strong, and many were influenced by the scoffs of the
newcomers, who, not having seen them in the day of battle, asked
them scornfully if the Sarci were slaves that they should obey
orders like Roman soldiers.

Boduoc, although he had objected to the drill at first, and
had scoffed at the idea of men fighting any better because they
all kept an even distance from each other, and marched with the
same foot forward, had now become an enthusiast in its favour and
raged at this falling away. But Beric said, “It is no use being
angry, Boduoc. I was surprised that they consented at first, and
I am not surprised that they have grown tired of it. It is the
fault of our people to be fickle and inconstant, soon wearying of
anything they undertake; but I do not think that it matters much
now. We alone were able to decide the fight when there were but
two thousand Roman spearmen; but when we meet Suetonius, he will
have ten thousand soldiers under him, and our multitude is so
great that the Sarci would be lost in the crowd. If the Britons
cannot beat them without us, we should not suffice to change the
fortunes of the day.”

It was partly to escape the sight of the sack of London,
partly because he was anxious to know how Berenice and Cneius
Nepo were faring that Beric left the army, and drove north in a
chariot. After two days’ journey he arrived at the cottage of
Boduoc’s mother. The door stood open as was the universal custom
in Britain, for nowhere was hospitality so lavishly practised,
and it was thought that a closed door might deter a passerby from
entering. His footsteps had been heard, for two dogs had growled
angrily at his approach. The old woman was sitting at the fire,
and at first he saw no one else in the hut.

“Good will to all here!” he said.

“It is the young chief!” the old woman exclaimed, and at once
two figures rose from a pile of straw in a dark corner of the
room.

“Beric?”

“Yes, it is I,” he said. “How fares it with you, Berenice? You
are well, Cneius, I hope? You have run no risks, I trust, since
you have been here?”

“We are well, Beric,” the girl said; “but oh the time has
seemed so long! It is not yet a month since you sent us here, but
it seems a year. She has been very kind to us, and done all that
she could, and the girls, her daughters, have gone with me
sometimes for rambles in the wood; but they cannot speak our
language. Not another person has been here since we came.”

“What is the news, Beric?” Cneius asked. “No word has reached
us. The old woman and her daughters have learned something, for
the eldest girl goes away sometimes for hours, and I can see that
she tells her mother news when she returns.”

Beric briefly told them what had happened, at which Berenice
exclaimed passionately that the Britons were a wicked people.

“Then there will be a great battle when you meet Suetonius,
Beric,” Cneius said. “How think you will it go?”

“It is hard to say,” Beric replied; “we are more than one
hundred and fifty thousand men against ten thousand, but the ten
thousand are soldiers, while the hundred and fifty thousand are a
mob. Brave and devoted, and fearless of death I admit, but still
a mob. I cannot say how it will go.”

“How long shall we stay here, Beric?” Berenice asked. “When
will you take me to my father?”

“If we are beaten, Berenice, you will rejoin him speedily; if
we win–“

“He will not be alive,” she broke in.

Beric did not contradict her, but went on, “I will see that
you are placed on board a ship and sent to Gaul; it is for this I
come here today. Cneius, in two or three days we shall meet
Suetonius; if we win, I will return to you myself, or if I am
killed, Boduoc or his brother, both of whom I shall charge with
the mission, will come in my place and will escort you to the
coast and see that you are placed on board ship. If we lose, it
is likely that none of us will return. I shall give the old woman
instructions that in that case her daughter is to guide you
through the forest and take you on until you meet some Roman
soldiers, or are within sight of their camp, then you will only
have to advance and declare yourself.”

Then he turned and spoke for some time to Boduoc’s mother in
her own language, thanking her for the shelter that she had given
the fugitives, and giving instructions as to the future. He took
a hasty meal, and started at once on his return journey in order
to rejoin the Sarci as the army advanced from London. Berenice
wept bitterly when he said goodbye, and Cneius himself was much
affected.

“I view you almost as a son,” he said; “and it is terrible to
know that if you win in the battle, my patron Caius and my
countrymen will be destroyed, while if they win, you may
fall.”

“It is the fortune of war, Cneius. You know that we Britons
look forward to death with joy; that, unlike you, we mourn at a
birth and feast at a burial, knowing that after death we go to
the Happy Island where there is no more trouble or sorrow, but
where all is peace and happiness and content; so do not grieve
for me. You will know that if I fall I shall be happy, and shall
be free from all the troubles that await this unfortunate
land.”

CHAPTER VII: DEFEAT OF
THE BRITONS

London was but a heap of ashes when Beric arrived there. It
had been a trading place rather than a town. Here were no Roman
houses or temples with their massive stone work; it consisted
only of a large collection of wooden structures, inhabited by
merchants and traders. It lay upon a knoll rising above the low
swampy ground covered by the sea at high water, for not till long
afterwards did the Romans erect the banks that dammed back the
waters and confined them within their regular channel. The
opposite shore was similarly covered with water at high tide, and
forests extended as far as the eye could reach. London, in fact,
occupied what was at high water a peninsula, connected with the
mainland only by a shoulder extending back to the hills beyond
it, and separated by a deep channel on the west from a similar
promontory.

It was a position that, properly fortified by strong walls
across the isthmus, could have been held against a host, but the
Romans had not as yet taken it in hand; later, however, they
recognized the importance of the position, and made it one of the
chief seats of their power. Even in the three days that he had
been absent Beric found that the host had considerably increased.
The tribes of Sussex and Kent, as they heard of the approach of
the army, had flocked in to join it, and to share in the plunder
of London.

Another day was spent in feasting and rejoicing, and then the
army moved northward. It consisted now of well nigh two hundred
thousand fighting men, and a vast crowd of women, with a huge
train of wagons. Two days later, news reached them of the spot
where Suetonius had taken up his position and was awaiting their
attack, and the army at once pressed forward in that direction.
At nightfall they bivouacked two miles away from it, and Beric,
taking Boduoc with him, went forward to examine it. It was at a
point where a valley opened into the plain; the sides of the
valley were steep and thickly wooded, and it was only in front
that an attack could well be delivered.

“What think you of it, Beric?” Boduoc asked.

“Suetonius relies upon our folly,” Beric said; “he is sure
that we shall advance upon him as a tumultous mob, and as but a
small portion can act at once our numbers will count but little.
The position would be a bad one had we any skill or forethought.
Were I commander tomorrow I should, before advancing to the
attack, send a great number round on either side to make their
way through the woods, and so to attack on both flanks, and to
pour down the valley in their rear, at the same time that the
main body attacked in the front. Then the position would be a
fatal one; attacked in front and rear and overwhelmed by darts
from the woods on the flanks, their position would be well nigh
desperate, and not a man should escape.”

“But we must overwhelm them,” Boduoc said. “What can ten
thousand men do against a host like ours?”

“It may be so, Boduoc. Yet I feel by no means sure of it. At
any rate we must prepare for defeat as well as victory. If we are
beaten the cause of Britain will be lost. As we advance without
order we shall fly without order, and the tribes will disperse to
their homes even more quickly than they have gathered. Of one
thing you may be sure, the Roman vengeance will be terrible. We
have brought disgrace and defeat upon them. We have destroyed
their chief cities. We have massacred tens of thousands. No mercy
will be shown us, and chiefly will their vengeance fall upon the
Iceni. When we return to the camp, go among the men and ask them
whether they mean to fight tomorrow as they fought Cerealis, or
whether they will fight in the fashion of the rest. I fear that,
wild as all are with enthusiasm and the assurance of victory,
they will not consent to be kept in reserve, but will be eager to
be in the front of the attack. I will go with you, and will do my
best to persuade them; but if they insist on fighting in their
own way, then we will go to them one by one, and will form if we
can a body, if only a hundred strong, to keep, and if needs be,
retreat together. In speed we can outrun the heavy armed Roman
soldiers with ease, but their cavalry will scour the plain.
Keeping together, however, we can repel these with our lances,
and make good our escape. We will first make for home, load
ourselves with grain, and driving cattle before us, and taking
our women and children, make for the swamps that lie to the
northwest of our limits. There we can defend ourselves against
the Romans for any length of time.”

“You speak as if defeat were certain,” Boduoc said
reproachfully.

“Not at all, Boduoc; a prudent man prepares for either
fortune, it is only the fool that looks upon one side only. I
hope for victory, but I prepare for defeat; those who like to
return to their homes and remain there to be slaughtered by the
Romans, can do so. I intend to fight to the last.”

Upon rejoining the Sarci, Beric called them together, and
asked them whether they wished on the following day to rush into
the battle, or to remain in solid order in reserve. The reply
was, that they wished for their share of glory, and that did they
hold aloof until the battle was done and the enemy annihilated
they would be pointed out as men who had feared to take their
share in the combat. When the meeting had dispersed Beric and
Boduoc went among them; they said nothing about the advantage
that holding together would be in case of defeat, but pointed out
the honour they had gained by deciding the issue of the last
battle, and begged them to remain in a solid body, so that
possibly they might again decide the battle. As to disgrace, they
had already shown how well they could fight, and that none could
say that fear had influenced their decision. Altogether two
hundred agreed to retain their ranks, and with this Beric was
satisfied. He then went off to find his mother, who was as usual
with the queen. She would not hear of any possibility of
defeat.

“What!” she said. “Are Britons so poor and unmanly a race,
that even when twenty to one they cannot conquer a foe? I would
not believe it of them.”

“I don’t expect it, mother, but it is best to be prepared for
whatever may happen.” He then told her of the arrangements he had
made.

“You may be right, Beric, in preparing for the worst, but I
will take no part in it. The queen has sworn she will not survive
defeat, nor shall I. I will not live to see my country bound in
Roman chains. A free woman I have lived, and a free woman I will
die, and shall gladly quit this troubled life for the shores of
the Happy Island.”

Beric was silent for a minute. “I do not seek to alter your
determination, mother, but as for myself, so long as I can lift a
sword I shall continue to struggle against the Romans. We shall
not meet tomorrow; when the battle once begins all will be
confusion, and there would be no finding each other in this vast
crowd. If victory is ours, we shall meet afterwards; if defeat, I
shall make for Cardun, where, if you change your mind, I shall
hope to meet you, and then shall march with those who will for
the swamps of Ely, where doubtless large numbers of fugitives
will gather, for unless the Romans drive their causeways into its
very heart they can scarce penetrate in any other way.”

So sure were the Britons of victory that no council was held
that night. There were the enemy, they had only to rush upon and
destroy them. Returning to his men, Beric met Aska.

“I have just been over to your camp to see you, Beric. I have
talked with Boduoc, who told me frankly that you did not share
the general assurance of an easy victory. Nor do I, after what I
saw the other day–how we dashed vainly against the Roman line.
He tells me that your men, save a small party, have determined to
fight tomorrow in the front line with the rest, and I lament over
it.”

“It would make no difference in the result,” Beric said; “in
so great a mass as this we should be lost, and even if we could
make our way to the front, and fall upon the Romans in a solid
body, our numbers are too small to decide the issue; but at least
we might, had the day gone against us, have drawn off in good
order.”

“I will take my station with you,” Aska said; “I have, as all
the Iceni know, been a great fighter in my time; but I will leave
it to the younger men tomorrow to win this battle. My authority
may aid yours, and methinks that if we win tomorrow, none can say
that you were wrong to stand aloof from the first charge, if Aska
stood beside you.”

Thanking the chief warmly for the promise, Beric returned to
the Sarci. Feasting was kept up all night, and at daybreak the
Britons were on foot, and forming in their tribes advanced within
half a mile of the Roman position. Then they halted, and Boadicea
with her daughters and the chiefs moved along their front
exhorting them to great deeds, recalling to them the oppression
and tyranny of the Romans, and the indignity that they had
inflicted upon her and her daughters; and her addresses were
answered by loud shouts from the tribesmen. In the meantime the
wagons had moved out and drew up in a vast semicircle behind the
troops, so as to enable the women who crowded them to get a view
of the victory. So great was the following that the wagons were
ranged four or five deep. Beric had drawn up the men who had
agreed to fight in order, in a solid mass in front of the tribe.
He was nearly on the extreme left of the British position. Aska
had taken his place by his side. His mother, as in her chariot
she passed along behind Boadicea, waved her hand to him, and then
pointed towards the Romans.

“Look, Aska,” he said presently; “do you see that deep line of
wagons forming all round us? In case of disaster they will block
up the retreat. A madness has seized our people. One would think
that this was a strife of gladiators at Rome rather than a battle
between two nations. There will be no retreat that way for us if
disaster comes. We must make off between the horn of the crescent
and the Romans. It is there only we can draw off in a body.”

“That is so, Beric,” the chief said; “but see! the queen has
reached the end of the lines, and waves her spear as a
signal.”

A thundering shout arose, mingled with the shrill cries of
encouragement from the women, and then like a torrent the Britons
rushed to the attack in confused masses, each tribe striving to
be first to attack the Romans. The Sarci from behind the company
joined in the rush, and there was confusion in the ranks, many of
the men being carried away by the enthusiasm; but the shouts and
exhortations of Beric, Aska, and Boduoc steadied them again, and
in regular order they marched after the host. In five minutes the
uproar of battle swelled high in front. Beric marched up the
valley until he arrived at the rear of the great mass of men who
were swarming in front of the Roman line, each man striving to
get to the front to hurl his dart and join in the struggle. The
Romans had drawn up twelve deep across the valley, the heavy
armed spearmen in front, the lighter troops behind, the latter
replying with their missiles to the storm of darts that the
Britons poured upon them. With desperate efforts the assailants
strove to break through the hedge of spears; their bravest flung
themselves upon the Roman weapons and died there, striving in
vain to break the line.

For hours the fight continued, but the Roman wall remained
unbroken and immovable. Fresh combatants had taken the place of
those in front until all had exhausted their store of javelins.
In vain the chiefs attempted to induce their followers to gather
thickly together and to make a rush; the din was too great for
their voices to be heard, and the tribesmen were half mad with
fury at the failure of their own efforts to break the Roman line.
Beric strove many times to bring up his company in a mass through
the crowd to the front. The pressure was too great, none would
give way where all sought to get near their foes, and rather than
break them up he remained in the rear in spite of the eager cries
of the men to be allowed to break up and push their way singly
forward.

“What can you do alone,” he shouted to them, “more than the
others are doing? Together and in order we might succeed, broken
we should be useless. If this huge army cannot break their line,
what could two hundred men do?” At last, as the storm of javelins
began to dwindle, a mighty shout rose from the Romans, and
shoulder to shoulder with levelled spears they advanced, while
the flanks giving way, the cavalry burst out on both sides and
fell upon the Britons. For those in front, pressed by the mass
behind them, there was no falling back, they fell as they stood
under the Roman spears. Stubbornly for a time the tribesmen
fought with sword and target; but as the line pressed forward,
and the horsemen cut their way through the struggling mass, a
panic began to seize them.

The tribes longest conquered by the Romans first gave way, and
the movement rapidly spread. Many for some time desperately
opposed the advance of the Romans, whose triumphant shouts rose
loudly; but gradually these melted away, and the vast crowd of
warriors became a mob of fugitives, the Romans pressing hotly
with cries of victory and vengeance upon their rear. Beric’s
little band was swept away like foam before the wave of
fugitives. For a time it attempted to stem the current; but when
Beric saw that this was in vain he shouted to his tribesmen to
keep in a close body and to press towards the left, which was
comparatively free. Fortunately the Roman horse had plunged in
more towards the centre, and the ground was open for their
retreat.

Thousands of flying men were making towards the rear, but with
a great effort they succeeded in crossing the tide of fugitives,
and in passing through outside the semicircle of wagons. Here
they halted for a moment while Beric, climbing on the end wagon,
surveyed the scene. There was no longer any resistance among the
Britons. The great semicircle within the line of wagons was
crowded by a throng of fugitives behind whom, at a run now, the
Roman legions were advancing, maintaining their order even at
that rapid pace. Outside the sweep of wagons women with cries of
terror were flying in all directions, and the horses, alarmed by
the din, were plunging and struggling, while their drivers vainly
endeavoured to extricate them from the close line of
vehicles.

“All is lost for the present,” he said to Aska, “let us make
for the north; it is useless to delay, men; to try to fight would
be to throw away our lives uselessly, we shall do more good by
preserving them to fight upon another day. Keep closely together,
we shall have the Roman cavalry upon us before long, and only by
holding to our ranks can we hope to repel them.”

Many of the women from the nearest wagons rushed in among the
men, and, placing them in their centre, the band went off at a
steady trot, which they could maintain for hours. The din behind
was terrible, the shouts of the Romans mingled with the cries of
the Britons and the loud shrieks of women. The plain was already
thick with fugitives, consisting either of women from the outside
wagons or men who had made their way through the mass of
struggling animals. Here and there chariots were dashing across
the plain at full gallop. Looking back from a rise of the ground
a mile from the battlefield, they saw a few parties of the Roman
horse scouring the plain; but the main body were scattered round
the confused mass by the wagons.

“There will be but few escape,” Aska said, throwing up his
arms in despair; “the wagons have proved a death trap; had it not
been for them the army would have scattered all over the country,
and though the Roman horse might have cut down many, the greater
number would have gained the woods and escaped; but the wagons
held them just as a thin line of men will hold the wolves till
the hunters arrive and hem them in.”

The carts crowded with women, the plunging horses in lines
three or four deep had indeed checked the first fugitives; then
came the others crowding in upon them, and then before a gap wide
enough to let them through could be forced, the Roman horse were
round and upon them.

The pause that Beric made had been momentary, and the band
kept on at their rapid pace until the woods were reached, and
they were safe from pursuit; then, as they halted, they gave way
to their sorrow and anguish. Some threw themselves down and lay
motionless; others walked up and down with wild gestures; some
broke into imprecations against the gods who had deserted them.
Some called despairingly the names of wives and daughters who had
been among the spectators in that fatal line of wagons. The women
sat in a group weeping; none of them belonged to the Iceni, and
their kinsfolk and friends had, as they believed, all perished in
the fight.

“Think you that the queen has fallen?” Aska asked Beric.

“She may have made her way out,” Beric said; “we saw chariots
driving across the plain. She would be carried back by the first
fugitives, and it may be that they managed to clear a way through
the wagons for her and those with her. If she is alive, doubtless
my mother is by her side.”

“If the queen has escaped,” Aska said, “it will be but to die
by her own hand instead of by that of the Romans. I am sure that
she will not survive this day. There is nothing else left for
her, her tribe is destroyed, her country lost, herself insulted
and humiliated. Boadicea would never demand her life from the
Romans.”

“My mother will certainly die with her,” Beric said, “and I
should say that all her party will willingly share her fate. For
the chiefs and leaders there will be no mercy, and for a time
doubtless all will be slaughtered who fall into the Roman hands;
but after a time the sword will be stayed, for the land will be
useless to them without men to cultivate it, and when the Roman
hands are tired of slaying, policy will prevail. It were best to
speak to the men, Aska, for us to be moving on; will you address
them?”

The old chief moved towards the men, and raising his hand,
called them to him. At first but few obeyed the summons, but as
he proceeded they roused themselves and gathered round him, for
his reputation in the tribe was great, and the assured tone in
which he spoke revived their spirits.

“Men of the Sarci,” he said, “this is no time for wailing or
lamentation; the gods of Britain have deserted us, but of this
terrible day’s defeat none of the disgrace rests upon you. The
honour of the victories we won was yours, and though but a small
subtribe, the name of the Sarci rang through Britain as that of
the bravest in the land. Had all of your tribe obeyed their young
chief and fought together today as they have fought before, it
may be that the defeat would have been averted; but you stood
firmly by him when the others fell away, and you stand here
without the loss of a man, safe in the forest and ready to meet
the Roman again. You are fortunate in having such a leader. I may
tell you that had his counsel prevailed you would not now be
mourning a defeat. I, an old chief with long years of experience,
believed what he said, young though he is, and saw that to fight
in a confused multitude on such a field was to court almost
certain defeat.

“Thus then I placed myself by his side, relying upon his skill
in arms and your bravery, and throwing my fortune in with yours.
I was not mistaken. Had you not firmly kept together and followed
his instructions you too would have been inclosed in that vast
throng of fugitives hemmed in among the wagons, slaughtered by
the Roman footmen in their rear and cut down by their horse if
they broke through the line of wagons. You may ask what is there
to live for; you may say that the cause of Britain is lost, that
your tribe is well nigh destroyed, that many of you have lost
your wives and families as well. All this is true, but yet, men,
all is not lost. Great as may have been the slaughter, large
numbers must have escaped, and many of you have still wives and
families at home. Before aught else is thought of these must be
taken to a place of safety until the first outburst of Roman
vengeance has passed.

“Had Beric been the sole leader of the Britons from the first
there would be no need of fearing their vengeance, for in that
case none of their women and children would have been slain, and
they would be now in our hands as hostages; but that is past. I
say it only to show you how wise and far seeing as well as how
brave a leader in battle is this young chief of yours. While all
others were dreaming only of an easy victory over the Romans he
and I have been preparing for what had best be done in case of
defeat. To return to your homes would be but to court death, and
if we are to die at the hands of the Romans it is best that we
should die fighting them to the end. We have therefore arranged
that we will seek a refuge in the Fen country that forms the
western boundary of the land of the Iceni; there we can find
strongholds into which the Romans can never force their way;
thence we can sally out, and in turn take vengeance. There will
rally round you hundreds of other brave men till we grow to a
force that may again make head against the Romans. There at least
we shall live as free men and die as free men.”

A shout of approval broke from the men.

“You need not starve,” Aska went on. “The rivers abound with
fish and the swamps with waterfowl. There are islands among the
swamps where the land is dry, and we can construct huts. Three
days since, when he foresaw that it might be that a refuge would
be needed, Beric despatched a messenger home with orders that a
herd of three hundred cattle and another of as many swine should
be driven to the spot near the swamps for which we propose to
make, and they will there be found awaiting you.”

There was again a chorus of approval, and one of the men
stepping forward said, “Beric is young, but he is a great chief.
We will follow him wherever he will take us, and will swear to be
faithful and obedient to him.” Every man raised his right arm
towards the sky, and with a loud shout swore to be faithful to
Beric.

“You are right,” Aska said. “It is of no use to obey a chief
only when ranged in battle; it is that which has ruined our
country. There is nothing slavish in recognizing that one man
must rule, and in obeying when obedience is necessary for the
sake of all. As one body led by one mind you may do much; as two
hundred men swayed by two hundred minds you will do nothing. I
shall be with Beric, and my experience may be of aid to him. And
if I, a chief of high standing among the Iceni, am well content
to recognize in him the leader of our party, you may well do the
same. Now, Beric, step forward and say what is next to be
done.”

“I thank you,” Beric said when the shout of acclamation that
greeted him when he stepped forward had subsided, “for the oath
you have sworn to be faithful to me. I pretend not to more wisdom
than others, and feel that in the presence of one so full of
years and experience as Aska it is a presumption for one of my
age to give an opinion; but in one respect I know that I am more
fitted than others to lead you. I have studied the records of the
Romans, of their wars with the Gauls and other peoples, and I
know that their greatest trouble was not in defeating armies in
the field but of overcoming the resistance of those who took
refuge in fastnesses and harassed them continually by sorties and
attacks. I know where the Romans are strong and where they are
weak; and it is by the aid of such knowledge that I hope that we
may long retain our freedom, and may even in time become so
formidable that we may be able to win terms not only for
ourselves but for our countrymen.

“The first step is to gather at our place of refuge those
belonging to us. Therefore do you choose among yourselves twenty
swift runners and send them to our villages, bidding the wives
and families of all here to leave their homes at once, taking
only such gear as they can carry lightly, and to make with all
speed for Soto, a village in the district of the Baci, and but a
mile or two from the edge of the great swamp country. It is there
that the herds have been driven, and there they will find a party
ready to escort them. Let all the other women and children be
advised to quit their homes also, and to travel north together
with the old men and boys. Bid the latter drive the herds before
them. It may be months before they can return to their homes. It
were best that they should pass altogether beyond the district of
our people, for it is upon the Iceni that the vengeance of the
Romans will chiefly fall. By presents of cattle they can purchase
an asylum among the Brigantes, and had best remain there till
they hear that Roman vengeance is satisfied.

“Let them as they journey north advise all the people in our
villages to follow their example. Let those who will not do this
take shelter in the hearts of the forests. To our own people my
orders are distinct: no herd, either of cattle or swine, is to be
left behind. Let the Romans find a desert where they can gather
no food; let the houses be burnt, together with all crops that
have been gathered. Warn all that there must be no delay. Let the
boys and old men start within five minutes from the time that you
deliver my message, to gather the herds and drive them north. Let
the women call their children round them, take up their babes,
make a bundle of their garments, and pile upon a wagon cooking
pots and such things as are most needed, and then set fire to
their houses and stacks and granaries and go. Warn them that even
the delay of an hour may be fatal, for that the Roman cavalry
will be spreading like a river in flood over the country. Beg
them to leave the beaten tracks and journey through the woods,
both those who go north and those who will meet us at Soto.
Quick! choose the messengers; and such of you as choose had best
hand to the one who is bound for his village a ring or a
bracelet, or some token that your wives will recognize, so that
they may know that the order comes from you.”

Twenty young men were at once chosen, and Boduoc and two of
the older men divided the district of the Sarci among them,
allotting to each the hamlets they should visit. As soon as this
was decided the rest of the band gave the messengers their tokens
to their families, and then the runners started at a trot which
they could maintain for many hours. The rest of the band then
struck off in the direction in which they were bound. With only
an occasional half hour for food and a few hours at night for
sleep they pressed northward. Fast as they went the news of the
disaster had preceded them, carried by fugitives from the
battle.

At each hamlet through which they passed, Aska repeated the
advice that had been sent to the Iceni. “Abandon your homes,
drive the swine and the cattle before you, take to the forests,
journey far north, and seek refuge among the Brigantes. A
rallying place for fighting men will be found at Soto, on the
edge of the great swamps; let all who can bear arms and love
freedom better than servitude or death gather there.”

Upon the march swine were taken and killed for food without
hesitation. Many were found straying in the woods untended, the
herdsmen having fled in dismay when the news of the defeat
reached them. As yet the full extent of the disaster was unknown.
Some of the fugitives had reported that scarce a man had escaped;
but the very number of fugitives who had preceded the band showed
that this was an exaggeration. But it was not until long
afterwards that the truth was known. Of the great multitude,
estimated at two hundred and thirty thousand, fully a third had
fallen, among whom were almost all the women and children whose
presence on the battlefield had proved so fatal, and of whom
scarce one had been able to escape; for the Romans, infuriated by
the massacres at Camalodunum, Verulamium, and London had spared
neither age nor sex.

On their arrival at Soto they obtained for the first time news
of the queen. A chief of one of the northern subtribes of the
Iceni had driven through on his chariot and had told the headman
of the hamlet that he had been one of the few who had accompanied
Boadicea in her flight.

At the call of the queen, he said, the men threw themselves on
the line of wagons in such number and force that a breach was
made through them, horses and wagons being overthrown and dragged
bodily aside. The chariot with the queen and her two daughters
passed through, with four others containing the ladies who
accompanied her. Three or four chiefs also passed through in
their chariots, and then the breach was filled by the struggling
multitude, that poured out like a torrent. The chariots were well
away before the Roman horse swept round the wagons, and travelled
without pursuit to a forest twenty miles away. As soon as they
reached this the queen ordered the charioteers to dig graves, and
then calling upon the god of her country to avenge her, she and
her daughters and the ladies with them had all drunk poison,
brewed from berries that they gathered in the wood. The chiefs
would have done so also, but the queen forbade them.

“It is for you,” she said, “to look after your people, and to
wage war with Rome to the last. We need but two men to lay us in
our graves and spread the sods over us; so that after death at
least we shall be safe from further dishonour at the hands of the
Romans.”

When they had drunk the poison the men were ordered to leave
them for an hour and then to return. When they did so the ladies
were all dead, lying in a circle round Boadicea. They were buried
in the shallow holes that had been dug, the turf replaced, and
dead leaves scattered over the spot, so that no Roman should ever
know where the queen of the Iceni and her daughters slept.

Although Beric had given up all hope of again seeing his
mother alive, the news of her death was a terrible blow to him,
and he wept unrestrainedly until Aska placed a hand on his
shoulder. “You must not give way to sorrow, Beric. You have her
people to look to. She has gone to the Green Island, where she
will dwell in happiness, and where your father has been long
expecting her. It is not at a death that we Britons weep, knowing
as we do that those that have gone are to be envied. Arouse
yourself! there is much to be done. The cattle will probably be
here in the morning. We have to question the people here as to
the great swamps, and get them to send to the Fen people for
guides who will lead us across the marshes to some spot where we
can dwell above the level of the highest waters.”

Beric put aside his private grief for the time, and several of
the natives of the village who were accustomed to penetrate the
swamps in search of game were collected and questioned as to the
country. None, however, could give much useful information. There
was a large river that ran through it, with innumerable smaller
streams that wandered here and there. None had penetrated far
beyond the margin, partly because they were afraid of losing
their way, partly because of the enmity of the Fen people.

These were of a different race to themselves, and were a
remnant of those whom the Iceni had driven out of their country,
and who, instead of going west, had taken refuge in the swamps,
whither the invaders had neither the power nor inclination to
follow them.

“It is strange,” Aska said, “that just as they fled before us
centuries ago, so we have now to fly before the Romans. Still, as
they have maintained themselves there, so may we. But it will be
necessary that we should try and secure the goodwill of these
people and assure them that we do not come among them as
foes.”

“There is no quarrel between us now,” the headman of the
hamlet said. “There has not been for many generations. They know
that we do not seek to molest them, while they are not strong
enough to molest us. There is trade between all the hamlets near
the swamps and their people; they bring fish and wildfowl, and
baskets which they weave out of rushes, and sell to us in
exchange for woven cloth, for garments, and sometimes for swine
which they keep upon some of their islands.

“It is always they who come to us, we go not to them. They are
jealous of our entering their country, and men who go too far in
search of game have often been shot at by invisible foes. They
take care that their arrows don’t strike, but shoot only as a
warning that we must go no farther. Sometimes some foolhardy men
have declared that they will go where they like in spite of the
Fenmen, and they have gone, but they have never returned. When we
have asked the men who come in to trade what has become of them
they say ‘they do not know, most likely they had lost their way
and died miserably, or fallen into a swamp and perished there;’
and as the men have certainly lost their lives through their own
obstinacy nothing can be done.”

“Then some of these men speak our tongue, I suppose?” Aska
said.

“Yes, the men who come are generally the same, and these
mostly speak a little of our language. From time to time some of
our maidens have taken a fancy to these Fenmen, and in spite of
all their friends could do have gone off. None of these have ever
returned, though messages have been brought saying they were
well. We think that the men who do the trading are the children
of women who went to live among them years ago.”

“Then it is through one of these men that we must open
communications with them,” Aska said.

“Some of them are here almost daily. No one has been today,
and therefore we may expect one tomorrow morning. This is one of
the chief places of trade with them. The women of the hamlets
round bring here the cloth they have woven to exchange it for
their goods, others from beyond them do the same, so that from
all this part of the district goods are brought in here, while
the fish and baskets of the Fenmen go far and wide.”

CHAPTER VIII: THE GREAT
SWAMPS

Soon after daybreak next morning the headman came into the hut
he had placed at the disposal of Aska and Beric with news that
two of the Fenmen had arrived. They at once went out and found
that the two men had just laid down their loads, which were so
heavy that Beric wondered they could possibly have been carried
by them. One had brought fish, the other wildfowl, slung on poles
over their shoulders. These men were much shorter than the Iceni,
they were swarthier in complexion, and their hair was long and
matted. Their only clothing was short kilts made of the materials
for which they bartered their game.

“They both speak the language well,” the headman said, “I will
tell them what you want.”

The men listened to the statement that the chiefs before them
desired to find with their followers a refuge in the Fens, and
that they were willing to make presents to the Fenmen of cattle
and other things, so that there should be friendship between
them, and that they should be allowed to occupy some island in
the swamps where they might live secure from pursuit. The men
looked at each other as the headman began to speak, shaking their
heads as if they thought the proposal impossible.

“We will tell our people,” they said, “but we do not think
that they will agree; we have dwelt alone for long years without
trouble with others. The coming of strangers will bring trouble.
Why do they seek to leave their land?”

“Our people have been beaten in battle by the Romans,” Aska
said, taking up the conversation, “and we need a refuge till the
troubles are over.”

“The Romans have won!” one of the men exclaimed in a tone that
showed he was no stranger to what was going on beyond the circle
of the Fens.

“They have won,” Aska repeated, “and there will be many
fugitives who will seek for shelter in the Fens. We would fain be
friends with your people, but shelter we must have. Our cause
after all is the same, for when the Romans have destroyed the
Iceni, and conquered all the countries round, they will hunt you
down also, for they let none remain free in the lands where they
are masters. The Fen country is wide, there must be room for
great numbers to shelter, and surely there must be places where
we could live without disturbance to your people.”

“There is room,” the man said briefly. “We will take your
message to our people, our chiefs will decide.”

Aska and Beric wore few other ornaments than those denoting
their position and authority. Many of their followers, however,
had jewels and bracelets, the spoil of the Roman towns. Beric
left the group and spoke to Boduoc, who in two or three minutes
returned with several rings and bracelets.

“You could have a score for every one of these,” he said;
“they are of no value to the men now, and indeed their possession
would bring certain death upon any one wearing them did he fall
into the hands of the Romans.”

Beric returned to the Fenmen. “Here,” he said, “are some
presents for your chiefs, tell them that we have many more like
them.”

The men took them with an air of indifference.

“They are of no use,” they said, “though they may please
women. If you want to please men you should give them hatchets
and arms.”

“We will do that,” Aska said, “we have more than we require;”
for indeed after the battle with Cerealis and the sack of the
towns all the men had taken Roman swords and carried them in
addition to their own weapons, regarding them not only as
trophies but as infinitely superior to their own more clumsy
implements for cutting wood and other purposes. At a word from
Beric four of these were brought and handed to the men, who took
them with lively satisfaction.

“Could you take us with you to see your chiefs?” Beric
asked.

They shook their heads. “No strangers can enter the swamps;
but the chiefs will come to see you.”

“It is very urgent that no time shall be lost,” Beric said,
“the Romans may be here very shortly.”

“By the time the sun is at its highest the chiefs will be here
or we will bring you an answer,” they said. “Come with us now, we
will show you where to expect them, for they will not leave the
edge of our land.”

After half an hour’s walking through a swampy soil they
arrived at the edge of a sluggish stream of water. Here tied to a
bush was a boat constructed of basket work covered with hide. In
it lay two long poles. The men took their places in the coracle,
pushed out into the stream, and using their poles vigorously were
soon lost to sight among the thick grove of rush and bushes. Aska
and Beric returned to the hamlet.

“Have you any idea of the number of these people?” they asked
the headman.

“No,” he said, “no one has any idea; the swamps are of a vast
extent from here away to the north. We know that long ago when
the Iceni endeavoured to penetrate there they were fiercely
attacked by great numbers, and most of those who entered perished
miserably, but for ages now there has been no trouble. The land
was large enough for us, why should we fight to conquer swamps
which would be useless to us? We believe that there are large
numbers, although they have, from the nature of the country,
little dealings with each other; but live scattered in twos and
threes over their country, since, living by fishing and fowling,
they would not care to dwell in large communities. They never
talk much about themselves, but I have heard that they say that
parts of the swamps are inhabited by strange monsters, huge
serpents and other creatures, and that into these none dare
penetrate.”

“All the better,” Beric said; “we are not afraid of monsters
of any kind, and they might therefore let us settle in one of
these neighbourhoods where we could clear out these enemies of
theirs for them. It strikes me that our greatest difficulty will
be to get our cattle across the morasses to firm ground. We shall
have to contrive some plan for doing so. It will be no easy
matter to feed so large a number as we shall be on fish and
wildfowl.”

At noon the two chiefs returned to the spot where the men had
left them, taking with them Boduoc and another of their
followers. A few minutes after they arrived there they heard
sounds approaching, and in a short time four boats similar to
those they had seen, and each carrying two men in addition to
those poling, made their way one after another through the bushes
that nearly met across the stream. Most of the men were dressed
like the two who had visited the village, but three of them were
in attire somewhat similar to that of the Iceni. These were
evidently the chiefs. Several of the men were much shorter and
darker than those they had first seen, while the chiefs were
about the same stature. All carried short bows and quivers of
light arrows, and spears with the points hardened in the fire,
for the Iceni living near the swamps had been strictly forbidden
to trade in arms or metal implements with the Fenmen. The chiefs,
however, all carried swords of Iceni make. Before the chiefs
stepped ashore their followers landed, and at once, to the
surprise of Beric, scattered among the bushes. In two or three
minutes they returned and said something in their own language to
their chiefs, who then stepped ashore.

“They were afraid of an ambush,” Aska muttered, “and have
satisfied themselves that no one is hidden near.”

The chiefs were all able to speak the language of the Iceni,
and a long conversation ensued between them and Beric. They
protested at first that it was impossible for them to grant the
request made; that for long ages no stranger had penetrated the
swamps, and that although the intention of those who addressed
them might be friendly, such might not always be the case, and
that when the secrets of the paths and ways were once known they
would never be free from danger of attack by their
neighbours.

“There is more room to the north,” they said; “the Fen country
is far wider there, there is room for you all, while here the dry
lands are occupied by us, and there is no room for so many
strangers. We wish you well; we have no quarrel with you. Ages
have passed now since you drove our forefathers from the land;
that is all forgotten. But as we have lived so long, so will we
continue. We have no wants; we have fish and fowl in abundance,
and what more we require we obtain in barter from you.”

“Swords like those we sent you are useful,” Aska said. “They
are made by the Romans, and are vastly better than any we have.
With one of those you might chop down as many saplings in a day
as would build a hut, and could destroy any wild beasts that may
lurk in your swamps. The people who are coming now are not like
us. We were content with the land we had taken, and you dwelt
among us undisturbed for ages; but the Romans are not like us,
they want to possess the whole earth, and when they have overrun
our country they will never rest content till they have hunted
you out also. There are thousands of us who will seek refuge in
your swamps. You may oppose us, you may kill numbers of us, but
in the end, step by step, we shall find our way in till we reach
an island of firm land where we can establish ourselves. It is
not that we have any ill will towards you, or that we covet your
land, but with the Romans behind us, slaying all they encounter,
we shall have no choice but to go forward.

“It will be for your benefit as well as ours. Alone what could
you do against men who fight with metal over their heads and
bodies that your arrows could not penetrate, and with swords and
darts that would cut and pierce you through and through? But with
us–who have met and fought them in fair battle, and have once
even defeated them with great slaughter–to help you to guard
your swamps, it would be different, and even the Romans, brave as
they are, would hesitate before they tried to penetrate your land
of mud and water. Surely there must be some spots in your
morasses that are still uninhabited. I have heard that there are
places that are avoided because great serpents and other
creatures live there, but so long as the land is dry enough for
our cattle to live and for us to dwell we are ready to meet any
living thing that may inhabit it.”

The chiefs looked awestruck at this offer on the part of the
strangers, and then entered into an animated conversation
together.

“The matter is settled,” Aska said in a low voice to Beric.
“There are places they are afraid to penetrate, and I expect
that, much as they object to our entering their country, they
would rather have us as neighbours than these creatures that they
are so much afraid of.”

When the chiefs’ consultation was finished, the one who had
before spoken turned to them and said: “What will you give if we
take you to such a place?”

“How far distant is it?” Aska asked.

“It is two days’ journey from here,” the chief said. “The
distance is not great, but the channels are winding and
difficult. There is land many feet above the water, but how large
I cannot say. Three miles to the west from here is the great
river you call the Ouse, it is on the other side of that where we
dwell. None of us live on this side of that river. Three hours’
walk north from here is a smaller river that runs into the great
one. At the point where the two rivers join you will cross the
Ouse, and then journey west in boats for a day; that will take
you near the land we speak of.”

“But how are we to get the boats? We have no time to make
them.”

“We will take you in our boats. This man,” and he pointed to
one of those who had been with them in the morning, “will go with
you as a guide through the swamps to the river to the north.
There we will meet you with twenty boats, and will take a party
to the spot we speak of. Then we will sell you the boats–we
can build more–and you can take the rest of your party over as
you like. What will you give us?”

“We will give you twenty swords like those I sent you, and
twenty spearheads, and a hundred copper arrowheads, and twenty
cattle.”

The chiefs consulted together. “We want grain and we want
skins,” their spokesman said. “We have need of much grain, for if
the Romans take your land and kill your people, where shall we
buy grain? And we want skins, for it takes two skins to make a
boat, and we shall have to build twenty to take the place of
those we give you.”

“We can give the skins,” Aska said, after a consultation with
Beric; “and I doubt not we can give grain. How much do you
require?”

“Five boat loads filled to the brim.”

“To all your other terms we agree,” Aska said; “and you shall
have as much grain as we can obtain. If we fall short of that
quantity we will give for each boat load that is wanting three
swords, six spearheads, and ten arrowheads.”

The bargain was closed. The Fenmen had come resolved not to
allow the strangers to enter their land, but their offer to
occupy any spot, even if tenanted by savage beasts, entirely
changed the position. In the recesses of the swamps to the east
of the Ouse lay a tract of country which they avoided with a
superstitious fear. In the memory of man none had dared to
approach that region, for there was a tradition among them that,
when they had first fled from the Iceni, a large party had
penetrated there, and of these but a few returned, with tales of
the destruction of their companions by huge serpents, and
monsters of strange shapes, some of which were clothed in armour
impenetrable to their heaviest weapons. From that time the spot
had been avoided. Legends had multiplied concerning the creatures
that dwelt there, and it now seemed to the chiefs that they must
be gainers in any case by the bargain.

If the monsters conquered and devoured the Iceni, as no doubt
they would do, they would be well rid of them. If the Iceni
destroyed the monsters a large tract of country now closed would
be open for fishing and fowling. They therefore accepted, without
further difficulty, the terms the strangers offered. It was,
moreover, agreed that any further parties of Iceni should be free
to join the first comers without hindrance, and that guides
should be furnished to all who might come to the borders of the
swamps to join their countrymen. They were to act in concert in
case of any attack by the Romans, binding themselves to assist
each other to the utmost of their powers.

“But how are we to convey our cattle over?” Beric asked.

The native shook his head. “It is too far for them to swim,
and the ground in most places is a swamp, in which they would
sink.”

“That must be an after matter, Beric,” Aska said. “We will
talk that over after we have arrived. Evidently we can do nothing
now. The great thing is to get to this place they speak of, and
to prepare it to receive the women and other fugitives. When will
you have the boats at the place you name?”

“Three hours after daylight tomorrow.”

“We will be there. You shall receive half the payments we have
agreed upon before we start, the rest shall be paid you when you
return with the boats and hand them over for the second
detachment to go.”

The native nodded, and at once he and his companions took
their places in their coracles, leaving the native who was to act
as guide behind them.

“They are undersized little wretches,” Boduoc said, as they
started for the village; “no wonder that our forefathers swept
them out of the land without any difficulty. But they are active
and sturdy, and, knowing their swamps as they do, could harass an
invader terribly. I don’t think that at present they like our
going into their country, but they will be glad enough of our aid
if the Romans come.”

When they reached the village they found that the herds had
just arrived. The headman was surprised when they told him that
the Fenmen had agreed to allow them a shelter in the swamps, and
he and eight or ten men who had straggled in since Beric’s party
arrived, expressed their desire to accompany the party with their
families. Other women in the village would likewise have gone,
but Aska pointed out to them that they had better go north and
take shelter among the Brigantes, as all the women of his tribe
had done, except those whose men were with them.

“You will be better off there than among the swamps, and we
cannot feed unnecessary mouths; nor have we means of transporting
you there. We, too, would shelter in the woods, were it not that
we mean to harass the Romans, so we need a place where they
cannot find us. But as you go spread the news that Aska has
sought refuge in the swamps with two hundred fighting Sarci, and
that all capable of bearing arms who choose to join them can do
so. They must come to the junction of the two rivers, and there
they will hear of us.”

As the villagers were unable to take away with them their
stores of grain, they disposed of them readily to Beric in
exchange for gold ornaments, with which they could purchase
cattle or such things as they required from the Brigantes; they
also resigned all property in their swine and cattle, which were
to be left in the woods, to be fetched as required. Aska and
Beric having made these arrangements, sat down to discuss what
had best be done, as the twenty boats would only carry sixty, and
would be away for two days before they returned for the second
party. Boduoc was called into the council, and after some
discussion it was agreed that the best plan would be for the
whole party to go down together to the junction of the rivers,
each taking as large a burden of grain as he could carry, and
driving their cattle before them.

They heard from the headman that the whole country near the
river was densely covered with bushes, and that the ground was
swampy and very difficult to cross. They agreed, therefore, that
they would form a strong intrenchment at the spot where they were
to embark. It was unlikely in the extreme that the Romans would
seek to penetrate such a country, but if they did they were to be
opposed as soon as they entered the swamps, and a desperate stand
was to be made at the intrenchment, which would be approachable
at one or two points only. Six men were to be left at the village
to receive the women and children when they arrived. The guide
was to return as soon as he had led the main party to the point
where the boats were to meet them, and to lead the second party
to the same point.

That evening, indeed, the women began to arrive, and said that
they believed all would be in on the following day. Among them
was Boduoc’s mother, who told Beric that her eldest daughter had
started with Berenice and Cneius to meet the Romans as soon as
the news of the defeat reached them. When day broke, Beric’s
command, with the women who had arrived, set off laden with as
much grain in baskets or cloths as they could carry, and driving
the cattle and pigs before them. The country soon became swampy,
but their guide knew the ground well, and by a winding path led
them dry footed through the bushes, though they could see water
among the roots and grass on either side of them. They had,
however, great difficulty with the cattle and pigs, but after
several attempts to break away, and being nearly lost in the
swamps, from which many of them had to be dragged out by sheer
force, the whole reached the river. The men of the rear guard in
charge of the main body of the swine and cattle did not arrive
there until midday.

The spot to which the guide led them was on the river flowing
east and west, a mile from its junction with the main stream, as
he told them that the swamps were too deep near the junction of
the river for them to penetrate there.

Some of the boats were already at the spot. When they reached
it Aska and Beric at once began to mark out a semicircle, with a
radius of some fifty yards, on the river bank. Ten of the cattle
were killed and skinned, and as others of the party came up they
were set to work to cut down the trees and undergrowth within the
semicircle, and drag them to its edge, casting them down with
their heads outwards so as to form a formidable abbatis. Within
half an hour of the appointed time the twenty boats had arrived
together with as many more, in which the grain, hides, and other
articles agreed to be paid were to be carried off. Three of the
cattle were cut up, and their flesh divided among the twenty
boats, in which a quantity of grain was also placed. The seven
remaining carcasses were for the use of the camp, the ten hides,
half the grain, swords, spears, and arrowheads agreed upon, were
handed over to the natives, and Beric, as an extra gift,
presented each of the three chiefs who had come with the boats
with one of the Roman shields, picked up on the field of
battle.

The chiefs were greatly pleased with the present, and showed
more goodwill than they had exhibited at their first interview.
Aska had arranged with Beric to remain behind in charge of the
encampment. As soon, therefore, as the presents had been handed
over, Beric with Boduoc and three men to each boat took their
places and pushed from shore. The boats of the Fenmen put off at
the same time, and the natives, of whom there was one in each of
Beric’s boats, poled their way down the sluggish stream until
they reached a wide river. The chiefs here shouted an adieu and
directed their course up the river, while Beric’s party crossed,
proceeded down it for two miles, and then turned up a narrow
stream running into it. All day they made their way along its
windings; other streams came in on either side or quitted it;
and, indeed, for some hours they appeared to be traversing a
network of water from which rose trees and bushes. The native in
Beric’s boat, which led, could speak the language of the Iceni,
and he explained to Beric that the waters were now high, but that
when they subsided the land appeared above them, except in the
course of the streams.

“It is always wet and swampy,” he said; “and men cannot
traverse this part on foot except by means of flat boards
fastened to the feet by loops of leather; this prevents them from
sinking deeply in.”

Late in the afternoon the country became drier, and the land
showed itself above the level of the water. The native now showed
signs of much perturbation, stopping frequently and
listening.

“I have come much farther now,” he said, “than I have ever
been before, and I dare not have ventured so far were it not that
these floods would have driven everything back; but I know from
an old man who once ventured to push farther, that this is the
beginning of rising ground, and that in a short time you will
find it dry enough to land. I advise you to call the other boats
up so that in case of danger you can support each other.”

The stream they were following was now very narrow, the
branches of the trees meeting overhead.

“Can any of the other Fenmen in the boats speak our language?”
Beric asked.

The man replied in the negative.

“That is good,” he said; “I don’t want my men to be frightened
with stories about monsters. I don’t believe in them myself,
though I do not say that in the old time monsters may not have
dwelt here. If anything comes we shall know how to fight it; but
it is gloomy and dark enough here to make men uncomfortable
without anything else to shake their courage.”

At last they reached a spot where the bank was two feet above
the water, and they could see that it rose further inland.
Several of the other Fenmen had been shouting for some time to
Beric’s boatmen, and their craft had been lagging behind. Beric
therefore thought it well to land at once. The boats were
accordingly called up, the meat and grain landed, and the men
leapt ashore, the boatmen instantly poling their crafts down
stream at their utmost speed.

“We will go no farther tonight,” Beric said; “but choose a
comfortable spot and make a fire. It will be time enough in the
morning to explore this place and fix on a spot for a permanent
encampment.”

A place was soon chosen and cleared of bushes. The men in
several of the boats had at starting brought brands with them
from the fires. These were carried across each other so as to
keep the fire in, and eight or ten of these brands being laid
together in the heart of the brushwood and fanned vigorously a
bright flame soon shot up. The men’s spirits had sunk as they
passed through the wild expanse of swamp and water, but they rose
now as the fire burned up. Meat was speedily frying in the
flames, and this was eaten as soon as it was cooked, nothing
being done with the grain, which they had no means of pounding.
They had also brought with them several jars of beer from the
village, and these were passed round after they had eaten their
fill of meat.

“We will place four sentries,” Beric said, “there may well be
wolves or other wild beasts in these swamps.”

After supper was over Boduoc questioned Beric privately as to
the monsters of which their boatman had spoken.

“It is folly,” Beric said. “You know that we have legends
among ourselves, which we learned from the natives who were here
before we came, that at one time strange creatures wandered over
the country; but if there were such creatures they died long ago.
These Fenmen have a story among themselves that such beasts lived
in the heart of the swamp here when they first fled before us. It
is quite possible that this is true, for although they died ages
ago on the land they may have existed long afterwards among the
swamps where there were none to disturb them. I have read in some
of the Roman writers that there are creatures protected by a coat
of scales in a country named Egypt, and that they live hundreds
of years. Possibly these creatures, which the legends say were a
sort of Dragon, may have lingered here, but as they do not seem
to have shown themselves to the Fenmen since their first arrival
here, it is not at all likely that there are any of them left; if
there are we shall have to do battle with them.”

“Do you think they will be very formidable, Beric?”

“I do not suppose so. They might be formidable to one man, but
not to sixty well armed as we are; but I have not any belief that
we shall meet with them.”

The night passed quite quietly, and in the morning the band
set out to explore the country. It rose gradually until they
were, as Beric judged, from forty to fifty feet above the level
of the swamp. Large trees grew here, and the soil was perfectly
dry. The ground on the summit was level for about a quarter of a
mile, and then gradually sank again. A mile farther they were
again at the edge of a swamp.

“Nothing could have suited us better,” Beric said. “At the top
we can form an encampment which will hold ten thousand men, and
there is dry ground a mile all round for the cattle and
swine.”

Presently there was a shout from some men who had wandered
away, and Beric, bidding others follow, ran to the spot. They
found men standing looking in wonder at a great number of bones
lying in what seemed a confused mass.

“Here is your monster,” Beric said; “they are snake bones.”
This was evident to all, and exclamations of wonder broke from
them at their enormous size. One man got hold of a pair of ribs,
and placing them upright they came up to his chin. The men looked
apprehensively round.

“You need not be afraid,” Beric said. “The creature has
probably been dead hundreds of years. You see his skin is all
decayed away, and it must have been thick and tough indeed. By
the way the bones are piled together, he must have curled up here
to die. He was probably the last of his race. However, we will
search the island thoroughly, keeping together in readiness to
encounter anything that we may alight upon.”

Great numbers of snakes were found, but none of any
extraordinary size.

“No doubt they fled here in the rains,” Beric said, “when the
water rose and covered the swamps; we shall not be troubled with
them when the morasses dry. Anyhow they are quite harmless, and
save that they may kill a chicken or two when we get some, they
will give us no trouble. The swine will soon clear them off.”

It was late in the day before the search was completed, and
they then returned to the camping ground of the night before,
quite assured that there was no creature of any size upon the
island. Just as evening was falling on the following day they
heard shouts.

“Are you alive?” a voice, which Beric recognized as that of
his boatman, shouted.

“Yes,” he exclaimed, “alive and well. There is nothing to be
afraid of here.”

A few minutes later the twenty boats again came up. The Fenmen
this time ventured to land, but Beric’s boatman questioned him
anxiously about the monsters. Beric, who thought it as well to
maintain the evil reputation of the place, told him that they had
searched the island and had found no living monsters, but had
come across a dead serpent, who must have been seventy or eighty
feet long.

“There are no more of them here,” he said, “but of course
there may be others that have been alarmed at the noises we made
and have taken to the swamps. This creature has been dead for a
long time, and may have been the last of his race. However, if
one were to come we should not be afraid of it with a hundred and
twenty fighting men here.”

The Fenmen, after a consultation among themselves, agreed that
it would be safer to pass the night with the Iceni than to start
in the darkness among the swamps. When they left in the morning
Beric sent a message to Aska describing the place, and begging
him to send up some of the women with the next party with means
of grinding the grain. As soon as the boats were started Beric
led the party up to the top of the rise, and then work was begun
in earnest, and in a couple of days a large number of huts were
constructed of saplings and brushwood cleared off from the centre
of the encampment. Some women arrived with the next boat loads,
and at once took the preparation of food into their hands. Aska
sent a message saying that the numbers at his camp were
undiminished, as most of the fighting men belonging to the
villages round who had survived the battle had joined him at once
with their wives, and that fresh men were pouring in every hour.
He urged Beric to leave Boduoc in charge of the island, and to
return with the empty boats in order that they might have a
consultation. This Beric did, and upon his arrival he found that
there were over four hundred men in camp, with a proportionate
number of women and children. There were several subchiefs among
them, and Aska invited them to join in the council.

“It is evident,” he said, “that so large a number as this
cannot find food in one place in the swamps, at any rate until we
have learned to catch fish and snare wildfowl as the Fenmen do.
The swine we can take there, but these light boats would not
carry cattle in any numbers, though some might be thrown and
carried there, with their legs tied together. At present this
place is safe from attack. There is only one path, our guide
says, by which it can be approached. I propose that we cut wide
gaps through this, and throw beams and planks over them. These we
can remove in case of attack. When we hear of the Romans’
approach we can throw up a high defence of trees and bushes
behind each gap.”

“That will be excellent,” Beric agreed, “and you would
doubtless be able to make a long defence against them on the
causeway. But you must not depend upon their keeping upon that.
They will wade through the swamp waist deep, and, if it be deeper
still, will cut down bushes and make faggots and move forward on
these. So, though you may check them on the causeway, they will
certainly, by one means or other, make their way up to your
intrenchment, and you must therefore strengthen this in every
way. I should build up a great bank behind it, so that if they
break through or fire the defences you can defend the bank. There
is one thing that must be done without delay; we must build more
boats. There must be here many men from the eastern coast, where
they have much larger and stronger craft than these coracles. I
should put a strong party to work upon them. Then, in case of an
attack, you could, when you see that longer resistance would be
vain, take to the boats and join me; or, when the Romans
approach, send them off to fetch my party from the island.
Besides, we shall want to move bodies of men rapidly so as to
attack and harass the enemy when they are not expecting us.

“I should say that we ought to have at least twenty great
flatboats able to carry fifty men each. Speed would not be of
much consequence, as the Romans will have no boats to follow us;
besides, except on the Ouse and one or two of the larger streams,
there is no room for rowing, and they must be poled along. Let us
keep none but fighting men here. As all the villagers fled north
there must be numbers of cattle and swine wandering untended in
all the woods, and in many of the hamlets much grain must have
been left behind, therefore I should send out parties from time
to time to bring them in. When the large boats are built we can
transport some of the cattle alive to the island; till then they
must be slaughtered here; but with each party a few swine might
be sent to the island, where they can range about as they choose.
What is the last news you have of the Romans?”

“They are pressing steadily north, burning and slaying. I hear
that they spare none, and that the whole land of the Trinobantes,
from the Thames to the Stour, has been turned into a waste.”

“It was only what we had to expect, Aska. Have any more of my
people come in since I left?”

“Only a young girl. She arrived last night. It is she that
brought the news that I am giving you. She is a sister of your
friend Boduoc, and her mother, who had given her up for lost,
almost lost her senses with delight when she returned. The family
are fortunate, for another son also came in two or three days
ago.”

Beric at once went in search of Boduoc’s mother, whom he found
established with her girls in a little bower.

“I am glad indeed that your daughter has returned safe,” he
said, as the old woman came out on hearing his voice.

“Yes, I began to think that I should never see her face again,
Beric; but I am fortunate indeed, when so many are left
friendless, that all my four children should be spared.

“Tell the chief how you fulfilled your mission,” she said to
the girl.

“It was easy enough,” she replied. “Had I been by myself I
should have returned here three days since, but the little lady
could not make long journeys, and it was three days after we left
before we saw any of the Romans. At last we came upon a column of
horse. When we saw them the little lady gave me this bracelet,
and she put this gold chain into my hand and said, ‘Beric.’ So I
knew that it was for you. Then I ran back and hid myself in the
trees while they went forward. When they got near the soldiers on
horseback the man lifted up his arms and cried something in a
loud voice. Then they rode up to them, and for some time I could
see nothing. Then the horsemen rode on again, all but two of
them, who went on south. The man rode behind one of them, and the
little lady before another. Then I turned and made hither,
travelling without stopping, except once for a few hours’ sleep.
There are many fugitives in the woods, and from them I heard that
the land of the Trinobantes was lit up by burning villages, and
that the Romans were slaughtering all. Some of those I met in the
wood had hid themselves, and had made their way at night, and
they saw numbers of dead bodies, women and children as well as
men, in the burned hamlets.”

“You have done your mission well,” Beric said. “Boduoc will be
glad when I tell him how you have carried out my wish. We must
find a good husband for you some day, and I will take care that
you go to him with a good store of cattle and swine. Where is
your brother?”

“He is there,” she said, “leaning against that tree waiting
for you.”

“I am glad to see you safe among us,” Beric said to the young
man. “How did you escape the battle?”

“I was driving the chariot with Parta’s attendants, as I had
from the day we started. I kept close behind her chariot, and
escaped with her when the line of wagons was broken to let the
queen pass. When we got far away from the battle your mother
stopped her chariot and bade me go north. ‘I have no more need of
attendants,’ she said; ‘let them save themselves. Do you find my
son if he has escaped the battle, and tell him that I shall share
the fate of Boadicea. I have lived a free woman, and will die
one. Tell him to fight to the end against the Romans, and that I
shall expect him to join me before long in the Happy Island. Bid
him not lament for me, but rejoice, as he should, that I have
gone to the Land where there are no sorrows.’ Then I turned my
chariot and drove to your home to await your coming there if you
should have escaped. It was but a few hours after that the
messengers brought the news that you were safe, and that the
survivors of your band were to join you at Soto with such men as
might have escaped. As Parta’s orders were to take the women with
me to the north, I drove them two days farther, taking with me a
lad, the brother of one of them. Then I handed over the chariot
to him, to convey them to the land of the Brigantes, and started
hither on foot to join you.”

“You shall go on with me tomorrow, you and your mother and
sisters. Boduoc will be rejoiced to see you all. We have found a
place where even the Romans will hardly reach us.

CHAPTER IX: THE STRUGGLE IN
THE SWAMP

That evening Beric had a long talk with Aska and four or five
men from the coast accustomed to the building of large boats. The
matter would be easy enough, they said, as the boats would not be
required to withstand the strain of the sea, and needed only to
be put together with flat bottoms and sides. With so large a
number of men they could hew down trees of suitable size, and
thin them down until they obtained a plank from each. They would
then be fastened together by strong pegs and dried moss driven in
between the crevices. Pitch, however, would be required to stop
up the seams, and of this they had none.

“Then,” Beric said, “we must make some pitch. There is no
great difficulty about that. There are plenty of fir trees
growing near the edges of the swamps, and from the roots of these
we can get tar.”

The men were all acquainted with the process, which was a
simple one. A deep hole was dug in the ground. The bottom of this
was lined with clay, hollowed out into a sort of bowl. The hole
was then filled with the roots of fir closely packed together.
When it was full a fire was lit above it. As soon as this had
made its way down earth was piled over it and beaten down hard, a
small orifice being left in the centre. In this way the wood was
slowly converted into charcoal, and the resin and tar, as they
oosed out under the heat, trickled down into the bowl of clay at
the bottom. As little or no smoke escaped after the fire was
first lighted, the work could be carried on without fear of
attracting the attention of any bodies of the enemy who might be
searching the country.

Two months passed. By the end of that time the intrenchment on
the river bank had been made so strong that it could resist any
attack save by a very large body of men. That on the island had
also been completed, and strong banks thrown up at the only three
points where a landing could be effected from boats.

The swamps had been thoroughly explored in the neighbourhood,
and another island discovered, and on this three hundred men had
been established, while four hundred remained on the great
island, and as many in the camp on the river. There were over a
thousand women and children distributed among the three stations.
Three hundred men had laboured incessantly at the boats, and
these were now finished. While all this work had been going on
considerable numbers of fish and wildfowl had been obtained by
barter from the Fenmen, with whom they had before had dealings,
and from other communities living among the swamps to the north.
Many of the Iceni, who came from the marshy districts of the
eastern rivers, were also accustomed to fishing and fowling, and,
as soon as the work on the defences was finished and the tortuous
channels through the swamps became known to them, they began to
lay nets, woven by the women, across the streams, and to make
decoys and snares of all sorts for the wildfowl.

The framework for many coracles had been woven of withies by
the women, and the skins of all the cattle killed were utilized
as coverings, so that by the end of the two months they had quite
a fleet of little craft of this kind. As fast as the larger boats
were finished they were used for carrying cattle to the islands,
and a large quantity of swine were also taken over.

During this time the Romans had traversed the whole country of
the Iceni. The hamlets were fired, and all persons who fell into
their hands put to death; but the number of these was
comparatively small, as the greater part of the population had
either moved north or taken to the woods, which were so extensive
that comparatively few of the fugitives were killed by the search
parties of the Romans. From the few prisoners that the Romans
took they heard reports that many of the Iceni had taken refuge
in the swamps, and several strong bodies had moved along the edge
of the marsh country without attempting to penetrate it.

Aska and Beric had agreed that so long as they were
undisturbed they would remain quiet, confining themselves to
their borders, except when they sent parties to search for cattle
in the woods or to gather up grain that might have escaped
destruction in the hamlets, and that they would avoid any
collision with the Romans until their present vigilance abated or
they attempted to plant settlers in their neighbourhood.

Circumstances, however, defeated this intention. They learned
from the Fenmen that numerous fugitives had taken refuge in the
southern swamps, and that these sallying out had fallen upon
parties of Romans near Huntingdon, and had cut them to pieces.
The Romans had in consequence sent a considerable force to avenge
this attack. These had penetrated some distance into the swamps,
but had there been attacked and driven back with much slaughter.
But a fortnight later a legion had marched to Huntingdon, and
crossing the river there had established a camp opposite, which
they called Godmancastra, and, having collected a number of
natives from the west, were engaged in building boats in which
they intended to penetrate the swamp country and root out the
fugitives.

“It was sure to come sooner or later,” Aska said to Beric.
“Nor should we wish it otherwise. We came here not to pass our
lives as lurking fugitives, but to gather a force and avenge
ourselves on the Romans. If you like I will go up the river and
see our friends there, and ascertain their strength and means of
resistance. Would it be well, think you, to tell them of our
strong place here and offer to send our boats to bring them down,
so that we may make a great stand here?”

“No, I think not,” Beric said. “Nothing would suit the Romans
better than to catch us all together, so as to destroy us at one
blow. We know that in the west they stormed the intrenchments of
Cassivellaunus, and that no native fort has ever withstood their
assault. I should say that it ought to be a war of small fights.
We should attack them constantly, enticing them into the deepest
parts of the morass, and falling upon them at spots where our
activity will avail against their heavily weighted men. We should
pour volleys of arrows into their boats as they pass along
through the narrow creeks, show ourselves at points where the
ground is firm enough for them to land, and then falling back to
deep morasses tempt them to pursue us there, and then turn upon
them. We should give them no rest night or day, and wear them out
with constant fighting and watching. The fens are broad and long,
stretching from Huntingdon to the sea; and if they are contested
foot by foot, we may tire out even the power of Rome.”

“You are right, Beric; but at any rate it will be well to see
how our brethren are prepared. They may have no boats, and may
urgently need help.”

“I quite agree with you, and I think it would be as well for
you to go. You could offer to bring all their women and children
to our islands here, and then we would send down a strong force
to help them. We should begin to contest strongly the Roman
advance from the very first.”

Accordingly Aska started up the Ouse in one of the large boats
with twelve men to pole it along, and three days afterwards
returned with the news that there were some two thousand men with
twice that many women and children scattered among the upper
swamps.

“They have only a few small boats,” he said, “and are in sore
straits for provisions. They drove at first a good many cattle in
with them, but most of these were lost in the morasses, and as
there have been bodies of horse moving about near Huntingdon,
they have not been able to venture out as we have done to drive
in more.”

“Have they any chief with them?” Beric asked.

“None of any importance. All the men are fugitives from the
battle, who were joined on their way north by the women of the
villages. They are broken up into groups, and have no leader to
form any general plan. I spoke to the principal men among them,
and told them that we had strongly fortified several places here,
had built a fleet of boats, and were prepared for warfare; they
will all gladly accept you as their leader. They urgently prayed
that we would send our boats down for the women and children, and
I promised them that you would do so, and would also send down
some provisions for the fighting men.”

The next morning the twenty large boats, each carrying thirty
men and a supply of meat and grain, started up the river, Beric
himself going with them, and taking Boduoc as his lieutenant.
Aska remained in command at the river fort, where the force was
maintained at its full strength, the boat party being drawn
entirely from the two islands. Four miles below Huntingdon they
landed at a spot where the greater part of the Iceni there were
gathered. Fires were at once lighted, and a portion of the meat
cooked, for the fugitives were weak with hunger. As soon as this
was satisfied, orders were issued for half the women and children
to be brought in.

These were crowded into the boats, which, in charge of four
men in each, then dropped down the stream, Beric having given
orders that the boats were to return as soon as the women were
landed on the island. He spent the next two days in traversing
the swamps in a coracle, ascertaining where there was firm
ground, and where the morasses were impassable. He learned all
the particulars he could gather about the exact position of the
Roman camp, and the spot where the boats were being constructed–the
Iceni were already familiar with several paths leading out
of the morasses in that neighbourhood–and then drew out a plan
for an attack upon the Romans.

He had brought with him half the Sarci who had retired with
him from the battle. These he would himself command. A force of
four hundred men, led by Boduoc, were to travel by different
paths through the swamp; they were then to unite and to march
round the Roman camp, and attack it suddenly on three sides at
once.

The camp was in the form of a horseshoe, and its ends resting
on the river, and it was here that the boats were being built.
Beric himself with his own hundred men and fifty others were to
embark in four boats. As soon as they were fairly beyond the
swamp, they were to land on the Huntingdon side, and to tow their
boats along until within two or three hundred yards of the Roman
camp, when they were to await the sound of Boduoc’s horn.
Boduoc’s instructions were that he was to attack the camp
fiercely on all sides. The Roman sentries were known to be so
vigilant that there was but slight prospect of his entering the
camp by surprise, or of his being able to scale the palisades at
the top of the bank of earth. The attack, however, was to be made
as if in earnest, and was to be maintained until Beric’s horn
gave the signal for them to draw off, when they were to break up
into parties as before, and to retire into the heart of the swamp
by the paths by which they had left it.

The most absolute silence was to be observed until the
challenge of the Roman sentries showed that they were discovered,
when they were to raise their war shouts to the utmost so as to
alarm and confuse the enemy.

The night was a dark one and a strong wind was blowing, so
that Beric’s party reached their station unheard by the sentries
on the walls of the camp. It was an hour before they heard a
distant shout, followed instantly by the winding of a horn, and
the loud war cry of the Iceni. At the same moment the trumpets in
the Roman intrenchments sounded, and immediately a tumult of
confused shouting arose around and within the camp. Beric
remained quiet for five minutes till the roar of battle was at
its highest, and he knew that the attention of the Romans would
be entirely occupied with the attack. Then the boats were again
towed along until opposite the centre of the horseshoe; the men
took their places in them again and poled them across the
river.

The fifty men who accompanied the Sarci carried bundles of
rushes dipped in pitch, and in each boat were burning brands
which had been covered with raw hides to prevent the light being
seen. They were nearly across the river when some sentries there,
whose attention had hitherto been directed entirely to the walls,
suddenly shouted an alarm. As soon as the boats touched the
shore, Beric and his men leapt out, passed through the half built
boats and the piles of timber collected beside them, and formed
up to repel an attack. At the same moment the others lighted
their bundles of rushes at the brands, and jumping ashore set
fire to the boats and wood piles. Astonished at this outburst of
flame within their camp, while engaged in defending the walls
from the desperate attacks of the Iceni, the Romans hesitated,
and then some of them came running down to meet the unexpected
attack.

But the Sarci had already pressed quickly on, followed by some
of the torch bearers, and were in the midst of the Roman tents
before the legionaries gathered in sufficient force to meet them.
The torches were applied to the tents, and fanned by the breeze,
the flames spread rapidly from one to another. Beric blew the
signal for retreat, and his men in a solid body, with their
spears outward, fell back. The Romans, as they arrived at the
spot, rushed furiously upon them; but discipline was this time on
the side of the Sarci, who beat off all attacks till they reached
the river bank. Then in good order they took their places in the
boats, Beric with a small body covering the movement till the
last; then they made a rush to the boats; the men, standing with
their poles ready, instantly pushed the craft into the stream,
and in two minutes they were safe on the other side.

The boats and piles of timber were already blazing fiercely,
while the Roman camp, in the centre of the intrenchment, was in a
mass of flames, lighting up the helmets and armour of the
soldiers ranged along the wall, and engaged in repelling the
attacks of the Iceni. As soon as the Sarci were across, they
leapt ashore and towed the boat along by the bank. A few arrows
fell among them, but as soon as they had pushed off from the
shore most of the Romans had run back to aid in the defence of
the walls. Beric’s horn now gave the signal that the work was
done, and in a short time the shouts of the Iceni began to
subside, the din of the battle grew fainter, and in a few minutes
all was quiet round the Roman camp.

There was great rejoicing when the parties of the Iceni met
again in the swamp. They had struck a blow that would greatly
inconvenience the Romans for some time, would retard their
attack, and show them that the spirit of the Britons was still
high. The loss of the Iceni had been very small, only some five
or six of Beric’s party had fallen, and twenty or thirty of the
assailants of the wall; they believed that the Romans had
suffered much more, for they could be seen above their defences
by the light of the flames behind them, while the Iceni were in
darkness. Thus the darts and javelins of the defenders had been
cast almost at random, while they themselves had been conspicuous
marks for the missiles of the assailants.

In Beric’s eyes the most important point of the encounter was
that it had given confidence to the fugitives, had taught them
the advantage of fighting with a plan, and of acting methodically
and in order. There was a consultation next morning. Beric
pointed out to the leaders that although it was necessary
sometimes with an important object in view to take the offensive,
they must as a rule stand on the defensive, and depend upon the
depth of their morasses and their knowledge of the paths across
them to baffle the attempts of the Romans to penetrate.

“I should recommend,” he said, “that you break up into parties
of fifteens and twenties, and scatter widely over the Fen
country, and yet be near enough to each other to hear the sound
of the horn. Each party must learn every foot of the ground and
water in the neighbourhood round them. In that way you will be
able to assemble when you hear the signal announcing the coming
of the Romans, you will know the paths by which you can attack or
retreat, and the spots where you can make your way across, but
where the Romans cannot follow you. Each party must earn its
sustenance by fishing and fowling; and in making up your parties,
there should be two or three men in each accustomed to this work.
Each party must provide itself with coracles; I will send up a
boat load of hides. Beyond that you must search for cattle and
swine in the woods, when by sending spies on shore you find there
are no parties of Romans about.

“The parties nearest to Huntingdon should be always vigilant,
and day and night keep men at the edge of the swamp to watch the
doings of the Romans, and should send notice to me every day or
two as to what the enemy are doing, and when they are likely to
advance. Should they come suddenly, remember that it is of no use
to try to oppose their passage down the river. Their boats will
be far stronger than ours, and we should but throw away our lives
by fighting them there. They may go right down to the sea if they
please, but directly they land or attempt to thrust their boats
up the channels through the swamp, then every foot must be
contested. They must be shot down from the bushes, enticed into
swamps, and overwhelmed with missiles. Let each man make himself
a powerful bow and a great sheath of arrows pointed with flints
or flakes of stone, which must be fetched from the dry land,
although even without these they will fly straight enough if shot
from the bushes at a few yards’ distance.

“Let the men practice with these, and remember that they must
aim at the legs of the Romans. It is useless to shoot at either
shields or armour. Besides, let each man make himself a spear,
strong, heavy, and fully eighteen feet long, with the point
hardened in the fire, and rely upon these rather than upon your
swords to check their progress. Whenever you find broad paths of
firm ground across the swamps, cut down trees and bushes to form
stout barriers.

“Make friends with the Fenmen. Be liberal to them with gifts,
and do not attempt to plant parties near them, for this would
disturb their wildfowl and lead to jealousy and quarrels. However
well you may learn the swamps, they know them better, and were
they hostile might lead the Romans into our midst. In some parts
you may not find dry land on which to build huts; in that case
choose spots where the trees are stout, lash saplings between
these and build your huts upon them so as to be three or four
feet above the wet soil. Some of my people who know the swamps by
the eastern rivers tell me that this is the best way to avoid the
fen fevers.”

Having seen that everything was arranged, Beric and his party
returned to their camp. For some time the reports from the upper
river stated that the Romans were doing little beyond sending out
strong parties to cut timber. Then came the news that a whole
legion had arrived, and that small forts containing some two
hundred men each were being erected, three or four miles apart,
on both sides of the Fen.

“That shows that all resistance must have ceased elsewhere,”
Aska said, “or they would never be able to spare so great a force
as a legion and a half against us. I suppose that these forts are
being built to prevent our obtaining cattle, and that they hope
to starve us out. They will hardly succeed in that, for the
rivers and channels swarm with fish, and now that winter is
coming on they will abound with wildfowl.”

“I am afraid of the winter,” Beric said, “for then they will
be able to traverse the swamps, where now they would sink over
their heads.”

“Unless the frosts are very severe, Beric, the ground will not
harden much, for every foot is covered with trees and bushes. As
to grain we can do without it, but we shall be able to fetch some
at least down from the north. Indeed, it would need ten legions
to form a line along both sides of the Fen country right down to
the sea and to pen us in completely.”

By this time the Iceni had become familiar with the channels
through the swamps for long distances from their fastness, and
had even established a trade with the people lying to the
northwest of the Fen country. They learnt that the Romans boasted
they had well nigh annihilated the Trinobantes and Iceni; but
that towards the other tribes that had taken part in the great
rising they had shown more leniency, though some of their
principal towns had been destroyed and the inhabitants put to the
sword.

A month later a fleet of boats laden with Roman soldiers
started from Huntingdon and proceeded down the Ouse. Dead silence
reigned round them, and although they proceeded nearly to the sea
they saw no signs of a foe, and so turning they rowed back to
Huntingdon. But in their absence the Iceni had not been idle. The
spies from the swamps had discovered when the expedition was
preparing to start, and had found too that a strong body of
troops was to march along the edges of the swamps in order to cut
off the Iceni should they endeavour to make their escape.

The alarm had been sounded from post to post, and in
accordance with the orders of Beric the whole of the fighting men
at once began to move south, some in boats, some in their little
coracles, which were able to thread their way through the network
of channels. The night after the Romans started, the whole of the
fighting force of the Britons was gathered in the southern
swamps, and two hours before daybreak issued out. Some five
hundred, led by Aska, followed the western bank of the river
towards Huntingdon, which had for the time been converted into a
Roman city, inhabited by the artisans who had constructed the
boats and the settlers who supplied the army; it had been
garrisoned by five hundred legionaries, of whom three hundred had
gone away in the boats.

The main body advanced against the Roman camp on the opposite
bank, in which, as their spies had learnt, three hundred men had
been left as a garrison. By Beric’s orders a great number of
ladders had been constructed. As upon the previous occasion the
camp was surrounded before they advanced against it, and when the
first shout of a sentry showed that they were discovered Beric’s
horn gave the signal, and with a mighty shout the Britons rushed
on from all sides. Dashing down the ditch, and climbing the steep
bank behind it the Iceni planted their ladders against the
palisade, and swarming over it poured into the camp before the
Romans had time to gather to oppose them. Beric had led his own
band of two hundred trained men against the point where the wall
of the camp touched the river, and as soon as they were over
formed them up and led them in a compact body against the
Romans.

In spite of the suddenness of the attack, the discipline of
the legionaries was unshaken, and as soon as their officers found
that the walls were already lost they formed their men in a solid
body to resist the attack. Before Beric with his band reached the
spot the Romans were already engaged in a fierce struggle with
the Britons, who poured volleys of darts and arrows among them,
and desperately strove, sword in hand, to break their solid
formation. This they were unable to do, until Beric’s band six
deep with their hedge of spears before them came up, and with a
loud shout threw themselves upon the Romans. The weight and
impetus of the charge was irresistible. The Roman cohort was
broken, and a deadly hand to hand struggle commenced. But here
the numbers and the greatly superior height and strength of the
Britons were decisive, and before many minutes had passed the
last Roman had been cut down, the scene of the battle being
lighted up by the flames of Huntingdon.

A shout of triumph from the Britons announced that all
resistance had ceased. Beric at once blew his horn, and, as had
been previously arranged, four hundred of the island men
immediately started under Boduoc to oppose the garrison at the
nearest fort, should they meet these hastening to the assistance
of their comrades. Then a systematic search for plunder
commenced. One of the storehouses was emptied of its contents and
fired, and by its light the arms and armour of the Roman soldiers
were collected, the huts and tents rifled of everything of value,
the storehouses emptied of their stores of grain and provisions,
and of the tools that had been used for the building of boats.
Everything that could be of use to the defenders was taken, and
fire was then applied to the buildings and tents. Morning broke
before this was accomplished, and laden down with spoil the Iceni
returned to their swamps, Boduoc’s and Aska’s parties rejoining
them there.

The former had met the Romans hurrying from the nearest fort
to aid the garrison of the camp. Beric’s orders had been that
Boduoc was if possible to avoid a fight, as in the open the
discipline of the Romans would probably prevail over British
valour. The Iceni, therefore, set up a great shouting in front
and in the rear of the Romans, shooting their missiles among
them, and being unable in the dark to perceive the number of
their assailants, and fearful that they had fallen into an
ambush, the Romans fell back to their fort. Aska’s party had also
returned laden with plunder, and as soon as the whole were united
a division of this was made. The provisions, clothing, and arms
were divided equally among the men, while the stores of rope,
metal, canvas, and other articles that would be useful to the
community were set aside to be taken to the island. Thither also
the shields, armour, and helmets of the Roman soldiers were to be
conveyed, to be broken up and melted into spear and arrow
heads.

As the Roman boats returned two days later from their useless
passage down the river, they were astonished and enraged by
outbursts of mocking laughter from the tangle of bushes fringing
the river. Not a foe was to be seen, but for miles these sounds
of derisive laughter assailed them from both sides of the stream.
The veterans ground their teeth with rage, and would have rowed
towards the banks had not their officers, believing that it was
the intention of the Britons to induce them to land, and then to
lead them into an ambush, ordered them to keep on their way. On
passing beyond the region of the swamp a cry of dismay burst from
the crowded boats, as it was perceived that the town of
Huntingdon had entirely disappeared. As they neared the camp,
however, the sight of numerous sentries on the walls relieved
them of part of their anxiety; but upon landing they learnt the
whole truth, that the five hundred Roman soldiers in the camp and
at Huntingdon had fallen to a man, and that the whole of the
stores collected had been carried away or destroyed.

The news had been sent rapidly along the chain of forts on
either side of the swamp, and fifty men from each had been
despatched to repair and reoccupy the camp, which was now held by
a thousand men, who had already begun to repair the palisades
that had been fired by the Britons.

This disaster at once depressed and infuriated the Roman
soldiers, while it showed to the general commanding them that the
task he had been appointed to perform was vastly more serious
than he had expected. Already, as he had traversed mile after
mile of the silent river, he had been impressed with the enormous
difficulty there would be in penetrating the pathless morasses,
extending as he knew in some places thirty or forty miles in
width. The proof now afforded of the numbers, determination, and
courage of the men lurking there still further impressed him with
the gravity of the undertaking. Messengers were at once sent off
to Suetonius, who was at Camalodunum, which he was occupied in
rebuilding, to inform him of the reverse, and to ask for orders,
and the general with five hundred men immediately set out for the
camp of Godman.

Suetonius at once proceeded to examine for himself the extent
of the Fen country, riding with a body of horsemen along the
eastern boundary as far as the sea, and then, returning to the
camp, followed up the western margin until he again reached the
sea. He saw at once that the whole of the Roman army in Britain
would be insufficient to guard so extensive a line, and that it
would be hopeless to endeavour to starve out men who could at all
times make raids over the country around them. The first step to
be taken must be to endeavour to circumscribe their limits.
Orders were at once sent to the British tribes in south and
midlands to send all their available men, and as these arrived
they were set to work to clear away by axe and fire the trees and
bush on the eastern side of the river Ouse.

As soon as the intentions of the Romans were understood, the
British camp at the junction of the rivers was abandoned, as with
so large a force of workmen the Romans could have made wide roads
up to it, and although it might have resisted for some time, it
must eventually fall, while the Romans, by sending their flotilla
of boats down, could cut off the retreat of the garrison. For two
months thirty thousand workmen laboured under the eyes of strong
parties of Roman soldiers, and the work of denuding the swamps
east of the Ouse was accomplished.

Winter had now set in, but the season was a wet one, and
although the Romans made repeated attempts to fire the brushwood
from the south and west, they failed to do so. Severe frost
accompanied by heavy snow set in late, and as soon as the ground
was hard enough the Romans entered the swamps near Huntingdon,
and began their advance northwards. The Britons were expecting
them, and the whole of their fighting force had gathered to
oppose them. Beric and Aska set them to work as soon as the Roman
army crossed the river and marched north, and as the Romans
advanced slowly and carefully through the tangled bushes, they
heard a strange confused noise far ahead of them, and after
marching for two miles came upon a channel, where the ice had
been broken into fragments.

They at once set to work to cut down bushes and form them into
faggots to fill up the gaps, but as they approached the channel
with these they were assailed by volleys of arrows from the
bushes on the opposite side. The light armed troops were brought
up, and the work of damming the channel at a dozen points, was
covered by a shower of javelins and arrows. The Britons, however,
had during the past month made shields of strong wicker work of
Roman pattern, but long enough to cover them from the eyes down
to the ankles, and the wicker work was protected by a double
coating of ox hide. Boys collected the javelins as fast as they
were thrown, and handed them to the men. As soon as the road
across the channel was completed the Romans poured over,
believing that now they should scatter their invisible foes; but
they were mistaken, for the Britons with levelled spears, their
bodies covered with their bucklers, burst down upon them as they
crossed, while a storm of darts and javelins poured in from
behind the fighting line.

Again and again they were driven back, until after suffering
great loss they made good their footing at several points, when,
at the sound of a horn, resistance at once ceased, and the
Britons disappeared as if by magic. Advancing cautiously the
Romans found that the ice in all the channels had been broken up,
and they were soon involved in a perfect network of sluggish
streams. Across these the Britons had felled trees to form
bridges for their retreat, and these they dragged after them as
soon as they crossed. Every one of these streams was desperately
defended, and as the line of swamp grew wider the Roman front
became more and more scattered.

Late in the afternoon a sudden and furious attack was made
upon them from the rear, Beric having taken a strong force round
their flank. Numbers of the Romans were killed before they could
assemble to make head against the attack, and as soon as they did
so their assailants as usual drew off. After a long day’s
fighting the Romans had gained scarce a mile from the point where
resistance had commenced, and this at a cost of over three
hundred men. Suetonius himself had commanded the attack, and when
the troops halted for the night at the edge of an unusually wide
channel, he felt that the task he had undertaken was beyond his
powers. He summoned the commanders of the two legions to the hut
that had been hastily raised for him.

“What think you?” he asked. “This is a warfare even more
terrible than that we waged with the Goths in their forests. This
Beric, who is their leader, has indeed profited by the lessons he
learned at Camalodunum. No Roman general could have handled his
men better. He is full of resources, and we did not reckon upon
his breaking up the ice upon all these channels. If we have had
so much trouble in forcing our way where the swamps are but two
miles across, and that with a frost to help us, the task will be
a terrible one when we get into the heart of the morasses, where
they are twenty miles wide. Yet we cannot leave them untouched.
There would never be peace and quiet as long as these bands,
under so enterprising a leader, remained unsubdued. Can you think
of any other plan by which we may advance with less loss?”

The two officers were silent. “The resistance may weaken,” one
said after a long pause. “We have learnt from the natives that
they have not in all much above three thousand fighting men, and
they must have lost as heavily as we have.”

Suetonius shook his head. “I marked as we advanced,” he said,
“that there was not one British corpse to four Romans. We shoot
at random, while they from their bushes can see us, and even when
they charge us our archers can aid but little, seeing that the
fighting takes place among the bushes. However, we will press on
for a time. The natives behind us must clear the ground as fast
as we advance, and every foot gained is gained for good.”

Three times during the night the British attacked the Romans,
once by passing up the river in their coracles and landing behind
them, once by marching out into the country round their left
flank, and once by pouring out through cross channels in their
boats and landing in front. All night, too, their shouts kept the
Romans awake in expectation of attack.

For four days the fighting continued, and the Romans, at the
cost of over a thousand men, won their way eight miles farther.
By the end of that time they were utterly exhausted with toil and
want of sleep; the swamps each day became wider, and the channels
larger and deeper. Then the Roman leaders agreed that no more
could be done. Twelve miles had been won and cleared, but this
was the mere tongue of the Fenland, and to add to their
difficulties that day the weather had suddenly changed, and in
the evening rain set in. It was therefore determined to retreat
while the ground was yet hard, and having lighted their fires,
and left a party to keep these burning and to deceive the
British, the Romans drew off and marched away, bearing to the
left so as to get out on to the plain, and to leave the ground,
encumbered with the sharp stumps of the bushes and its network of
channels, behind them as soon as possible.

CHAPTER X:
BETRAYED

The Britons soon discovered that the Romans had retreated, but
made no movement in pursuit. They knew that the legionaries once
in open ground were more than their match, and they were well
content with the success they had gained. They had lost in all
but four hundred men, while they were certain that the Romans had
suffered much more heavily, and that there was but little chance
of the attack being renewed in the same manner, for if their
progress was so slow when they had frost to aid them, what chance
would they have when there was scarce a foot of land that could
bear their weight? The winter passed, indeed, without any further
movement. The Britons suffered to some extent from the damps; but
as the whole country was undrained, and for the most part covered
with forest, they were accustomed to a damp laden atmosphere, and
so supported the fogs of the Fens far better than they would
otherwise have done.

In the spring, grain, which had been carefully preserved for
the purpose, was sown in many places where the land was above the
level of the swamps. A number of large boats had been built
during the winter, as Beric and Aska were convinced that the next
attack would be made by water, having learned from the country
people to the west that a vast number of flat bottomed boats had
been built by the Romans.

Early in the spring fighting again began. A great flotilla of
boats descended from Huntingdon, and turning off the side
channels entered the swamp. But the Britons were prepared. They
were now well provided with tools, and numbers of trees had been
felled across the channels, completely blocking the passage. As
soon as the boats left the main river, they were assailed with a
storm of javelins from the bushes, and the Romans, when they
attempted to land, found their movements impeded by the deep
swamp in which they often sank up to the waist, while their foes
in their swamp pattens traversed them easily, and inflicted heavy
losses upon them, driving them back into their boats again. At
the points where the channels were obstructed desperate struggles
took place. The Romans, from their boats, in vain endeavoured,
under the storm of missiles from their invisible foes, to remove
the obstacles, and as soon as they landed to attempt to do so
they were attacked with such fury that they were forced to fall
back.

Several times they found their way of retreat blocked by boats
that had come down through side channels, and had to fight their
way back with great loss and difficulty. After maintaining the
struggle for four days, and suffering a loss even greater than
that they had incurred in their first attack, the Romans again
drew off and ascended the river. The Fenmen had joined the Iceni
in repelling the attack. The portion of the swamp they inhabited
was not far away, and they felt that they too were threatened by
the Roman advance. They had therefore rejoined the Iceni,
although for some time they had kept themselves aloof from them,
owing to quarrels that had arisen because, as they asserted, some
of the Iceni had entered their district and carried off the birds
from their traps. Beric had done all in his power to allay this
feeling, recompensing them for the losses they declared they had
suffered, and bestowing many presents upon them. He and Aska
often talked the matter over, and agreed that their greatest
danger was from the Fenmen.

“They view us as intruders in their country,” Aska said, “and
doubtless consider that in time we shall become their masters.
Should they turn against us they could lead the Romans direct to
our islands, and if these were lost all would be lost.”

“If you fear that, Aska,” Boduoc, who was present, said, “we
had better kill the little wretches at once.”

“No, no Boduoc,” Beric said. “We have nothing against them at
present, and we should be undeserving of the protection of the
gods were we to act towards them as the Romans act towards us.
Moreover, such an attempt would only bring about what we fear.
Some of them, knowing their way as they do through the marshes,
would be sure to make their escape, and these would bring the
Romans down upon us. Even did we slay all this tribe here, the
Fenmen in the north would seek to avenge their kinsmen, and would
invite the Romans to their aid. No, we must speak the Fenmen
fair, avoid all cause of quarrel, do all we can to win their
goodwill, and show them that they have nothing to fear from us.
Still, we must always be on guard against treachery. Night and
day a watch must be set at the mouths of all the channels by
which they might penetrate in this direction.”

Another month passed. The Romans still remained in their forts
round the Fens. The natives had now been brought round to the
western side, and under the protection of strong bodies of
soldiers were occupied in clearing the swamp on that side. They
made but little progress, however, for the Britons made frequent
eruptions among them, and the depth of the morasses in this
direction rendered it well nigh impossible for them to advance,
and progress could only be made by binding the bush into bundles
and forming roads as they went on. From their kinsmen in the
northwest, Beric learned that a new propraetor had arrived to
replace Suetonius, for it was reported that the wholesale
severity of the latter was greatly disapproved of in Rome, so
that his successor had come out with orders to pursue a milder
policy, and to desist from the work of extirpation that Suetonius
was carrying on. It was known that at any rate the newcomer had
issued a proclamation, saying that Rome wished neither to destroy
nor enslave the people of Britain, and that all fugitives were
invited to return to their homes, adding a promise that no
molestation should be offered to them, and that an amnesty was
granted to all for their share in the late troubles.

“What do you think, Aska?” Beric asked when they heard the
news.

“It may be true or it may not,” Aska said. “For myself, after
the treatment of Boadicea, and the seizure of all her husband’s
property, I have no faith in Roman promises. However, all this is
but a rumour. It will be time enough to consider it when they
send in a flag of truce and offer us terms of surrender. Besides,
supposing the proclamation has been rightly reported, the amnesty
is promised only for the past troubles. The new general must have
heard of the heavy losses we inflicted on the Romans as soon as
he landed, and had he meant his proclamation to apply to us he
would have said so. However, I sincerely trust that it is true,
even if we are not included, and are to be hunted down like wild
beasts. Rome cannot wish to conquer a desert, and you have told
me she generally treats the natives of conquered provinces well
after all resistance has ceased. It may well be that the Romans
disapprove of the harshness of Suetonius, although the rising was
not due to him so much as to the villain Decianus. Still he was
harsh in the extreme, and his massacre of the Druids enlisted
every Briton against him. Other measures may now be tried; the
ground must be cultivated, or it is useless to Rome. There are at
present many tribes still unsubdued, and were men like Suetonius
and Decianus to continue to scourge the land by their cruelties,
they might provoke another rising as formidable as ours, and
bring fresh disaster upon Rome. But whether the amnesty applies
to us or not, I shall be glad to hear that Suetonius has left. We
know that three days ago at any rate he was at their camp
opposite Huntingdon, and he may well wish to strike a blow before
he leaves, in order that he may return with the credit of having
crushed out the last resistance.”

Two nights later, an hour before daybreak, a man covered with
wounds, breathless and exhausted, made his way up to the
intrenchment on the principal island.

“To arms!” he shouted. “The Romans are upon us!” One of the
sentries ran with the news to Beric’s hut. Springing from his
couch Beric sounded his horn, and the band, who were at all times
kept to the strength of four hundred, rushed to the line of
defences.

“What is it? What is your news?” Beric asked the
messenger.

“It is treachery, Beric. With two comrades I was on watch at
the point where the principal channel hence runs into the river.
Suddenly we thought we heard the sound of oars on the river above
us. We could not be sure. It was a faint confused sound, and we
stood at the edge of the bank listening, when suddenly from
behind us sprang out a dozen men, and before we had time to draw
a sword we were cut down. They hewed at us till they thought us
dead, and for a time I knew nothing more. When I came to myself I
saw a procession of Roman boats turning in at the channel. For a
time I was too faint to move; but at last I crawled down a yard
or two to the water and had a drink. Then my strength gradually
returned and I struggled to my feet.

“To proceed by land through the marshes at night was
impossible, but I found my coracle, which we had hidden under the
bushes, and poled up the channel after the Romans, who were now
some distance ahead. The danger gave me strength, and I gained
upon them. When I could hear their oars ahead I turned off by a
cross channel so as to strike another leading direct hither. What
was my horror when I reached it to see another flotilla of Roman
boats passing along. Then I guessed that not only we but the
watchers at all the other channels must have been surprised and
killed by the treacherous Fenmen. I followed the boats till I
reached a spot where I knew there was a track through the marshes
to the island.

“For hours I struggled on, often losing the path in the
darkness and falling into swamps, where I was nearly overwhelmed;
but at last I approached the island. The Romans were already
near. I tried each avenue by which our boats approached, but all
were held by them. But at last I made my way through by one of
the deepest marshes, where at any other time I would not have set
foot, even in broad daylight, and so have arrived in time to warn
you.”

“You have done well. Your warning comes not, I fear, in time
to save us, but it will enable us at least to die like men, with
arms in our hands.”

Parties of men were at once sent down to hold the
intrenchments erected to cover the approaches. Some of those who
knew the swamps best were sent out singly, but they found the
Romans everywhere. They had formed a complete circle round the
island, all the channels being occupied by the boats, while
parties had been landed upon planks thrown across the soft ground
between the channels to prevent any from passing on foot.

“They will not attack until broad daylight,” Aska said, when
all the men who had been sent out had returned with a similar
tale. “They must fight under the disadvantage of not knowing the
ground, and would fear that in the darkness some of us would slip
away.”

Contrary to expectation the next day passed without any
movement by the Romans, and Beric and Aska agreed that most
likely the greater portion of the boats had gone back to bring up
more troops.

“They will not risk another defeat,” Aska said, “and they must
be sure that, hemmed in as we are, we shall fight to the
last.”

The practicability of throwing the whole force against the
Romans at one point, and of so forcing their way through was
discussed; but in that case the women and children, over a
thousand in number, must be left behind, and the idea was
therefore abandoned. Another day of suspense passed. During the
evening loud shouts were heard in the swamp, and the Britons had
no doubt that the boats had returned with reinforcements. There
were three points where boats could come up to the shore of the
island. Aska, Boduoc, and another chief, each with a hundred men,
took their posts in the intrenchments there, while Beric, with a
hundred of the Sarci, remained in the great intrenchment on the
summit, in readiness to bear down upon any point where aid was
required. Soon after daybreak next morning the battle began, the
Romans advancing in their flat bottomed boats and springing on
shore. In spite of a hail of missiles they advanced against the
intrenchments; but these were strongly built in imitation of the
Roman works, having a steep bank of earth surmounted by a solid
palisade breast high, and constructed of massive timber.

For some hours the conflict raged, fifty of the defenders at
each intrenchment thrusting down with their long spears the
assailants as they strove to scale the bank, while the other
fifty rained arrows and javelins upon them; and whenever they
succeeded in getting up to the palisade through the circle of the
spears, threw down their bows and opposed them sword in hand.
Again and again the Romans were repulsed with great slaughter,
the cries of exultation from the women who lined the upper
intrenchment rose loud and shrill.

Beric divided his force into three bodies. The first was to
move down instantly if they saw the defenders of the lower
intrenchment hard pressed; the others were to hold their position
until summoned by Beric to move down and join in the fray. He
himself paced round and round the intrenchment, occupied less
with the three desperate fights going on below than with the edge
of the bushes between those points. He knew that the morasses
were so deep that even an active and unarmed man could scarce
make his way through them and that only by springing from bush to
bush. But he feared that the Romans might form paths by throwing
down faggots, and so gain the island at some undefended
point.

Until noon he saw nothing to justify his anxiety; everything
seemed still in the swamp. But he knew that this silence was
deceptive, and the canopy of marsh loving trees completely hid
the bushes and undergrowth from his sight. It was just noon when
a Roman trumpet sounded, and at once at six different points a
line of Roman soldiers issued from the bushes. Beric raised his
horn to his lips and blew the signal for retreat. At its sound
the defenders of the three lower intrenchments instantly left
their posts and dashed at full speed up the hill, gaining it long
before the Romans, who, as they issued out, formed up in order to
repel any attack that might be made upon them.

“So they have made paths across the swamp,” Aska said
bitterly, as he joined Beric. “They would never have made their
way in by fair fighting.”

“Well,” Beric said, “there is one more struggle, and a stout
one, and then we go to join our friends who have gone before us
in the Happy Island in the far west. We need not be ashamed to
meet them. They will welcome us as men who have struggled to the
last for liberty against the oppressor, and who have nobly upheld
the honour of the Iceni. We shall meet with a great welcome.”

Not until the Romans had landed the whole of the force they
had brought up, which Beric estimated as exceeding two thousand
men, did they advance to the attack, pressing forward against all
points of the intrenchment. The Iceni were too few for the proper
defence of so long a circuit of intrenchments, but the women and
boys took their places beside them armed with hatchets, clubs,
and knives. The struggle was for a long time uncertain, so
desperately did the defenders fight; and it was not until
suffering the loss of a third of their number, from the missiles
and weapons of the British, that the Romans at last broke through
the intrenchment. Even then the British fought to the last. None
thought of asking for quarter, but each died contented if he
could kill but one Roman. The women flung themselves on the
spears of the assailants, preferring death infinitely to falling
into the hands of the Romans; and soon the only survivors of the
Britons were a group of some thirty men gathered on a little
knoll in the centre of the camp.

Beric had successfully defended the chief entrance to the camp
until the Romans burst in at other places, and then, blowing his
horn, he had tried to rally his men in the centre for a final
stand. Aska had already fallen, pierced by a Roman javelin; but
Boduoc and a small body of the Sarci had rallied round Beric, and
had for a time beaten off the assaults of the Romans. But soon
they were reduced to half their number, and were on the point of
being overwhelmed by the crowds surrounding them, when a Roman
trumpet sounded and their assailants fell back. An officer made
his way towards them and addressed Beric.

“Suetonius bids me say that he honours bravery, and that your
lives will be spared if you lay down your arms.”

“Tell Suetonius that we scorn his mercy,” Beric said, “and
will die as we have lived, free men.”

The Roman bade his men stand to their weapons, and not move
until his return. It was a few minutes before he came back again.
Behind him were a number of soldiers, who had laid aside their
arms and provided themselves with billets of wood and long poles.
Before Beric could understand what was intended, he and his
companions were struck to the ground by the discharge of the
wooden missiles or knocked down by the poles. Then the Romans
threw themselves upon them and bound them hand and foot, the camp
was plundered, fire applied to the huts, and the palisades beaten
down. Then the captives were carried down to the boats, and the
Romans rowed away through the marshes. They had little to
congratulate themselves upon. They had captured the leader of the
Iceni, had destroyed his stronghold and slain four hundred of his
followers, but it had cost them double that number of men, and a
large portion of the remainder bore wounds more or less
severe.

Boduoc and the other prisoners were furious at their capture.
The Britons had no fear whatever of death, but capture was
regarded as a disgrace; and that they alone should have been
preserved when their comrades had all been killed and the women
and children massacred, was to them a terrible misfortune. They
considered that they had been captured by an unworthy ruse, for
had they known what was intended they would have slain each
other, or stabbed themselves, rather than become captives.

Beric’s feelings were more mixed. Although he would have
preferred death to captivity, his ideas had been much modified by
his residence among the Romans, and he saw nothing disgraceful in
what he could not avoid. He would never have surrendered; would
never have voluntarily accepted life; but as he had been taken
captive against his will and in fair fight, he saw no disgrace in
it. He wondered why he and his companions had been spared. It
might be that they were to be put to death publicly, as a warning
to their countrymen; but he thought it more likely that Suetonius
had preserved them to carry them back to Rome as a proof that he
had, before giving up the command, crushed out the last
resistance of the Britons to Roman rule. As the captives had been
distributed among the boats, he had no opportunity of speaking to
his companions until, about midnight, the flotilla arrived at
Godmancastra. Then they were laid on the ground together, a guard
of six men taking post beside them. Boduoc at once broke out in a
torrent of execrations against the Romans.

“They had a right to kill us,” he said, “but they had no right
to dishonour us. We had a right to die with the others. We fought
them fairly, and refused to surrender. It is a shameful tyranny
thus to disgrace us by making us captives. I would not have
refused death to my most hated foe; but they shall not exult over
us long. If they will not give me a weapon with which to put an
end to my life, I will starve myself.”

There was an exclamation of fierce assent from the other
captives.

“They have not meant to dishonour us, Boduoc, but to do us
honour,” Beric said. “The Romans do not view these things in the
same light that we do. It is because, in their opinion, we are
brave men, whom it was an honour to them to subdue, that they
have thus taken us. You see they slew all others, even the women
and children. We were captured not from pity, not because they
wished to inflict disgrace upon us, but simply as trophies of
their own valour; just as they would take a standard. We may deem
ourselves aggrieved because we have not, like the rest, died
fighting to the last, and so departed for the Happy Island; but
it is the will of the gods that we should not make the journey
for a time. It is really an honour to us that they have deemed us
worthy of the trouble of capture, instead of slaying us. Like
you, I would rather a thousand times have died; but since the
gods have decreed it otherwise, it is for us to show that not
even captivity can break our spirit, but that we are able to bear
ourselves as brave men who, having done all that men could do
against vastly superior force, still preserve their own esteem,
and give way neither to unmanly repinings nor to a sullen
struggle against fate.

“Nothing would please the Romans better than for us to act
like wild beasts caught in a snare, gnashing our teeth vainly
when we can no longer strike, and either sulkily protesting
against our lot, or seeking to escape the pains of death or
servitude by flying from life. Let us preserve a front haughty
and unabashed. We have inflicted heavy defeats upon Rome, and are
proud of it. Let them see that the chains on our bodies have not
bound our spirit, and that, though captives, we still hold
ourselves as free men, fearless of what they can do to us. In
such a way we shall win at least their respect, and they will say
these are men whom we are proud of having overcome.”

“By the sacred oak, Beric, you speak rightly,” Boduoc
exclaimed. “Such was the bearing of Caractacus, as I have heard,
when he fell into their hands, and no one can say that Caractacus
was dishonoured. No man can control his fate; but, as you say, we
may show that we are above fate. What say you, my friends, has
Beric spoken well?”

A murmur of hearty assent came from the other captives, and
then the Roman sergeant of the guard, uneasy at this animated
colloquy among the captives, gruffly ordered silence.

Beric translated the order. “Best sleep, if we can,” he added.
“We shall be stronger tomorrow.”

Few, however, slept, for all were suffering from wounds more
or less severe. The following morning their bonds were unloosed,
and their wounds carefully attended to by a leech. Then water and
food were offered to them, and of these, following Beric’s
example, they partook heartily. An hour later they were placed in
the centre of a strong guard, and then fell in with the troops
who were formed up to escort Suetonius to Camalodunum.

“What are they going to do to us, think you?” Boduoc asked
Beric.

“They are either going to put us to death publicly at
Camalodunum, as a warning against resistance, or they are going
to take us to Rome. I think the latter. Had Suetonius been going
to remain here, he might be taking us to public execution; but as
he has, as we have heard, been ordered home, he would not, I
think, have troubled himself to have made us prisoners simply
that his successor might benefit by the example of our execution.
It is far more likely, I think, that he will carry us to Rome in
order to show us as proofs that he has, before leaving Britain,
succeeded in crushing out all resistance here.”

“And what will they do with us at Rome?”

“That I know not, Boduoc; possibly they will put us to death
there, but that is not their usual custom. Suetonius has gained
no triumph. A terrible disaster has fallen upon the Romans during
his command here; and though he may have avenged their defeat, he
certainly does not return home in triumph. After a triumph the
chief of the captives is always put to death, sacrificed to their
gods. But as this will be no triumph, we shall, I should say, be
treated as ordinary prisoners of war. Some of these are sold as
slaves; some are employed on public works. Of some they make
gladiators–men who fight and kill each other in the arena for
the amusement of the people of Rome, who gather to see these
struggles just as we do when two warriors who have quarrelled
decide their differences by combat.”

“The choice does not appear a pleasing one,” Boduoc said, “to
be a private or public slave, or to be killed for the amusement
of the Romans.”

“Well, the latter is the shortest way out of it, anyhow, and
the one I should choose; but it must be terrible to have to fight
with a man with whom one has had no quarrel,” Beric said.

“Well, I don’t know, Beric. If he is a captive like yourself,
he must be just as tired of life as you are. So, if he kills you
he is doing you a service; if you kill him, you have greatly
obliged him. So, looking at it in that way, it does not much
matter which way it goes; for if you do him this service one day,
someone else may do you a like good turn the next.”

“I had not looked at it in that way, Boduoc,” Beric said,
laughing. “Well, there is one thing, I do not suppose the choice
will be given us. At any rate I shall be glad to see Rome. I have
always wished to do so, though I never thought that it would be
as a captive. Still, it will be something even in this evil that
has befallen us to see so great a city with all its wonders.
Camalodunum was but as a little hamlet beside it.”

On the evening of the second day after leaving Godmancastra
they arrived at Camalodunum, which in the year that had passed
since its destruction, had already been partially rebuilt and
settled by Gaulish traders from the mainland, Roman officials
with their families and attendants, officers engaged in the civil
service and the army, friends and associates of the procurator,
who had been sent out to succeed Catus Decianus, priests and
servants of the temples. Suetonius had already sent to inform the
new propraetor, Petronius Turpillianus, of the success which he
had gained, and a crowd assembled as the procession was seen
approaching, while all eyes were directed upon the little party
of British captives who followed the chariot of Suetonius.

Many of the newcomers had as yet scarcely seen a native, so
complete had been the destruction of the Trinobantes, and they
looked with surprise and admiration at these men, towering a full
head above their guards, and carrying themselves, in spite of
their bonds, with an air of fearless dignity. Most of all they
were surprised when they learned that the youth–for Beric was
as yet but eighteen–who walked at their head was the noted
chief, who had during the past year inflicted such heavy losses
upon the troops of Rome, and who had now only been captured by
treachery. As yet he lacked some inches of the height of his
companions, but he bade fair in another two or three years to
rival the tallest among them in strength and vigour. The
procession halted before the building which had been erected from
the ruins of the old city as a residence for the propraetor.
Petronius, surrounded by a number of officials, came out to meet
Suetonius.

“I congratulate you on your success, Suetonius,” he said. “It
will make my task all the easier in carrying out my orders to
deal mildly with the people.”

“And it will make my return to Rome all the more pleasant,
Petronius, and I thank you again for having permitted me to
continue in command of my troops until I had revenged the losses
we have suffered at the hands of these barbarians. It is, of
course, for you to decide upon the fate of Beric and his
companions; assuredly they deserve death, but I should like to
take them with me as captives to Rome.”

“I should prefer your doing so, Suetonius. I could hardly
pardon men who have so withstood us, but, upon the other hand, I
should grieve to commence my rule by an act of severity; besides,
I hope through them to persuade the others–for, as you told me
in your letter, it is but a fraction of these outlaws that you
have subdued–to lay down their arms. It is well, indeed, that
you have taken their chief, and that he, as I hear, has partly
been brought up among us and speaks our language.”

“Yes, he lived here for some five years as a hostage for his
tribe. He was under the charge of Caius Muro, who returned to
Rome after our defeat of the Britons. I made inquiries about him,
when I learned that he was chief of the insurgents, and heard
that he was tractable and studious when among us, and that Caius
thought very highly of his intelligence.”

“They are noble looking men,” Petronius said, surveying the
group of captives; “it is an honour to conquer such men. I will
speak with their chief presently.”

“I shall make no longer delay,” Suetonius said. “Ships have
been lying at the port in readiness for my departure for the last
two weeks, and I would fain sail tomorrow or next day. Glad I
shall be to leave this island, where I have had nothing but
fighting and hardships since I landed.”

“And you have done well,” Petronius said courteously. “It was
but half conquered when you landed, it is wholly subdued now. It
is for me only to gather the fruit of your victories.”

“Never was there such an obstinate race,” Suetonius replied
angrily. “Look at those men, they bear themselves as if they were
conquerors instead of conquered.”

“They are good for something better than to be killed,
Suetonius; if we could mate all our Roman women with these fair
giants, what a race we should raise!”

“You would admire them less if you saw them pouring down on
you shouting like demons,” Suetonius said sullenly.

“Perhaps so, Suetonius; but I will endeavour to utilize their
strength in our service, and not to call it into the field
against us. Now, let us enter the house. Varo,” he said to one of
his officers, “take charge of the captives until Suetonius sails.
Guard them strongly, but treat them well. Place them in the
house, where they will not be stared at by the crowd. If their
chief will give you his word that they will not attempt to
escape, their bonds can be removed; if not, they must remain
bound.”

Varo at once called a centurion of the legion in garrison at
Camalodunum, and bade him bring up his company. These on their
arrival surrounded the captives and marched with them to a
guardhouse near. When they entered Varo said to Beric:

“The orders of the propraetor are, that you shall all be
released from your bonds if you will give your oath that you will
not try to escape.”

Beric turned to the others and asked if they were willing to
give the promise. “In no case could we escape,” he said, “you may
be sure we shall be guarded too strictly for that. It were better
that we should remain bound by our own promise than by fetters.”
As they all consented, Beric, in their name, took an oath that
they would not attempt to escape, so that the ropes that bound
their arms were at once taken off, and in a short time a meal was
sent to them from the house of Petronius.

Soon after they had finished an officer came in and requested
Beric to accompany him to the propraetor.

“I will bring two of my followers with me,” Beric said. “I
would not say aught to the Roman governor that my tribesmen
should not hear.”

The officer assented, and Beric with Boduoc and another
subchief followed him to the house of the propraetor. Petronius
was seated with Suetonius at his side, while a number of officers
and officials stood behind him.

“How is it, Beric,” he asked, “that, as I hear, you, who speak
our language and have lived for years amongst us, come to be a
leader of those who have warred against us?”

“It is, perhaps, because I studied Roman books, and learned
how you value freedom and independence,” Beric replied, “and how
you revolt against tyranny. Had Rome been conquered by a more
powerful nation, every Roman would have risen in arms had one
tenth of the tyranny been practised against them which Catus
Decianus exercised against us. We have been treated worse than
the beasts of the field; our lives, our properties, and the
honour of our women were sacrificed at his will. Death was a
thousand times better than such treatment. I read that Rome has
elsewhere been a worthy conqueror, respecting the religion of the
tribes it subdued, and treating them leniently and well. Had we
been so treated we should have been, if not contented, patient
under our lot, but being men we rose against the infamous
treatment to which we were subject; and although we have been
conquered and well nigh exterminated, there are Britons still
remaining, and if such be the treatment to which they are
subjected it is not till the last Briton is exterminated that you
will rule this island.”

A murmur of surprise at the boldness with which the young
captive spoke ran round the circle.

“Have you inquired since you arrived,” Beric went on, “of the
infamous deeds of Decianus? How he seized, without the shadow of
excuse, the property of Boadicea? and how, when she came here for
justice for herself and her insulted daughters, he ordered her to
be scourged? Should we, a free born people, submit to such an
indignity to our queen? I knew from the first that our enterprise
was hopeless, and that without order or discipline we must in the
end be conquered; but it was better a thousand times to die than
to live subject to treatment worse than that which you give to
your slaves.”

“I believe that there is justice in your complaints, Beric,”
Petronius said calmly, “and it is to lessen these grievances that
Rome has sent me hither. Vengeance has been fully taken for your
rebellion, it is time that the sword was laid aside. I have
already issued a proclamation granting an amnesty to all who then
rose against us. Your case was different, you have still
continued in arms and have resisted our power, but I trust that
with your capture this will end. You and your companions will go
to Rome with Suetonius; but there are many of your followers
still in arms, with these I would treat, not as a conqueror with
the conquered, but as a soldier with brave foes. If they will lay
down their arms they shall share the amnesty, and be free to
return every man to his own land, to dwell there and cultivate it
free from all penalty or interruption. Their surrender would
benefit not only themselves but all the Britons. So long as they
stand in arms and defy our power we must rule the land with the
sword, but when they surrender there will be peace throughout the
island, and I trust that the Britons in time will come to look
upon us as friends.”

“If Rome had so acted before,” Beric said, “no troubles would
have arisen, and she might now be ruling over a contented people
instead of over a desert.”

“There are still many of your tribesmen in the Fens?”

“There is an army,” Beric replied. “You have taken one
stronghold, and that by surprise, but the lesson will not be lost
upon them. There will be no traitors to guide your next
expedition; by this time the last Fenman in the southern swamps
will have been killed. There will be a heavy vengeance taken by
my countrymen.”

“I would fain put a stop to it all,” Petronius said. “Upon
what terms, think you, would your countrymen surrender?”

“They will not surrender at all,” Beric said; “there is not a
man there but will die rather than yield. But if you will
solemnly take oath that those who leave the Fens and return to
their villages shall live unmolested, save that they shall–when
their homes are rebuilt and their herds again grazing around
them–pay a tribute such as they are able to bear, they will, I
believe, gladly leave the Fens and return to their villages, and
the fugitives who have fled north will also come back again.”

“I am ready to take such an oath at the altar,” Petronius
said. “I have come to bring peace to the land. I am ready to do
all in my power to bring it about; but how are they to know what
I have done?”

“I would say, Petronius, let us, your captives, be present
when you take the oath. Release four of my band; choose those
most sorely wounded, and who are the least able to support the
journey to Rome. I will send them with my bracelet to the Fens. I
will tell them what you have said, and they will testify to
having seen you swear before your gods; and I will send my last
injunctions to them to return again to their land, to send for
the fugitives to return from the north, and to say from me that
they will return as free men, not as slaves, and that there is no
dishonour in accepting such terms as you offer.”

“I will do as you say,” the Roman agreed. “Suetonius, you can
spare four of your captives, especially as there are assuredly
some among them who could ill support the fatigues of the
journey. Return now to your friends, Beric; tomorrow morning you
shall meet me at the temple, and there I will take an oath of
peace with Britain.”

CHAPTER
XI: A PRISONER

On leaving the propraetor Beric further informed his comrades
of the offer that Petronius had made.

“And you think he will keep his oath?” Boduoc asked.

“I am sure of it,” Beric said; “he has been sent out by Rome
to undo the mischief Suetonius and Decianus have caused. His face
is an honest one, and a Roman would not lie to his gods any more
than we would.”

“But you ought to have made terms with them, Beric,” Boduoc
said. “You ought to have made a condition that you should be
allowed to stay. It matters not for us, but you are the chief of
all the Iceni who are left.”

“In the first place, Boduoc, I was not in a position to make
terms, seeing that I am a captive and at their mercy; and in the
next place, I would not if I could. Think you that the tribesmen
would then accept my counsels to leave the Fens and return to
their homes? They would say that I had purchased my life and
freedom from the Romans, and had agreed to betray them into their
hands.”

“No one would venture to say that of you, Beric.”

“You may think not, Boduoc; but if not now, in the future it
would be said that, as before I was brought up among the Romans,
so now I had gone back to them. No, even if they offered to all
of us our liberty, I would say, let those go who will, but I
remain a captive. Had the message come to us when I was free in
the Fens I would have accepted it, for I knew that, although we
might struggle long, we should be finally overpowered. Moreover,
the marsh fevers were as deadly as Roman swords, and though for a
year we have supported them, we should in time, perhaps this year
when the summer heats come, have lost our strength and have
melted away. Thus, had I believed that the Romans were sincere in
their wish for peace, and that they desired to see the land
tilled, I would have accepted their terms, because we were in
arms and free, and could still have resisted; but as a captive,
and conquered, I scorn to accept mercy from Rome.”

By this time they had arrived at the house where the other
captives were guarded, and Beric repeated the terms that
Petronius had offered.

“They will not benefit us,” he said. “We are the captives of
Suetonius, and being taken with arms in our hands warring against
Rome, we must pay the penalty; but, for the sake of our brethren,
I rejoice. Our land may yet be peopled again by the Iceni, and we
shall have the consolation that, whatever may befall us, it is
partly our valour that has won such terms from Rome. There are
still fifteen hundred fighting men in the swamps, and twice as
many women and children. There may be many more lurking in the
Fens to the north, for great numbers, especially from our
northern districts, must have taken refuge with the Brigantes.
Thus, then, there will, when all have returned, be a goodly
number, and it is our defence of the Fenlands that has won their
freedom for them. We may be captives and slaves, but we are not
dishonoured. For months we have held Suetonius at bay, and two
Romans have fallen for every Briton; and even at last it was by
treachery we were captured.

“None of us have begged our lives of Rome. We fought to the
last, and showed front when we were but twenty against two
thousand. It was not our fault that we did not die on the field,
and we can hold our heads as high now when we are captives as we
did when we were free men. We know not what may be our fate at
Rome, but whatever it be, it will be a consolation to us to know
that our people again wander in the old woods; that our women are
spinning by their hearthstones; that the Iceni are again a tribe;
and that it is we who have won this for them.”

An enthusiastic assent greeted Beric’s words.

“Now,” he said, “we must choose the four who shall carry the
message. I said those most sorely wounded, but since four are to
go they can care little who are chosen. Most of us have lost
those we love, but there are some whose wives may have been
elsewhere when the attack was made. Let these stay, and let those
who have no ties save that of country go to Rome.”

Only two men were found whose families had not been on the
island when it was attacked. These and the two most seriously
wounded were at once chosen as the messengers. The next morning
the whole of the captives were escorted to the temple, which was
but a small building in comparison with the great edifice that
had been destroyed at the capture of Camalodunum. Here Petronius
and all the principal officers and officials were assembled.
Sacrifice was offered, and then Petronius, laying his hand on the
altar, declared a solemn peace with the Britons, and swore that,
so long as they remained peaceable subjects of Rome, no man
should interfere with them, but all should be free to settle in
their villages, to till their land, and to tend their herds free
from any molestation whatever. Beric translated the words of the
oath to the Britons. Petronius then bade the four men who had
been chosen stand forward, and told them to carry his message to
their countrymen.

“Enough blood has been shed on both sides,” he said. “It is
time for peace. You have proved yourselves worthy and valiant
enemies; let us now lay aside the sword and live together in
friendship. I sent orders last night for the legions to leave
their forts by the Fenland and to return hither, so that the way
is now open to your own land. We can settle the terms of the
tribute hereafter, but it shall not be onerous.”

After leaving the temple Beric gave his messages to the men,
and they at once started under an escort for the camp, the
officer in charge of them being ordered to provide them with a
boat, in which they were to proceed alone to their
countrymen.

That evening Petronius sent for Beric, and received him alone.
“I am sorry,” he said, “that I cannot restore you and your
companions to your tribe, but in this I am powerless, as
Suetonius has captured you, and to him you belong. I have begged
him, as a personal favour, to hand you over to me, but he has
refused, and placed as we are I can do no more. I have, however,
written to friends in Rome concerning you, and have said that you
have done all in your power to bring about a pacification of the
land, and have begged them to represent to Nero and the senate
that if a report reach this island that you have been put to
death, it will undo the work of pacification, and perhaps light
up a fresh flame of war.”

There had, indeed, been an angry dispute between Suetonius and
his successor. The former, although well pleased to return to
Rome, was jealous of Petronius, and was angry at seeing that he
was determined to govern Britain upon principles the very reverse
of those he himself had adopted. Moreover, he regarded the
possession of the captives as important, and deemed that their
appearance in his train, as proofs that before leaving he had
completely stamped out the insurrection, would create a
favourable impression, and would go far to restore him to popular
opinion. This was, as he had heard from friends in Rome, strongly
adverse to him, in consequence of the serious disasters and heavy
losses which had befallen the Roman arms during his
propraetorship, and he had therefore refused with some heat to
grant the request of Petronius.

The next morning the captives were mustered, and were marched
down to the river and placed on board a ship. There were six
vessels lying in readiness, as Suetonius was accompanied not only
by his own household, but by several officers and officials
attached to him personally, and by two hundred soldiers whose
time of service had expired, and who were to form his escort to
Rome. To Beric, from his residence in Camalodunum, large ships
were no novelty, but the Britons with him were struck with
astonishment at craft so vastly exceeding anything that they had
before seen.

“Could we sail in these ships to Rome?” Boduoc asked.

“You could do so, but it would be a very long and stormy
voyage passing through the straits between two mountains which
the Romans call the Pillars of Hercules. Our voyage will be but a
short one. If the wind is favourable we shall reach the coast of
Gaul in two days, and thence we shall travel on foot.”

Fortunately the weather was fine, and on the third day after
setting sail they reached one of the northern ports of Gaul. When
it was known that Suetonius was on board, he was received with
much pomp, and was lodged in the house of the Roman magistrate.
As he had no desire to impress the inhabitants of the place, the
captives were left unbound and marched through the streets under
a guard of the Roman spearmen. Gaul had long been completely
subdued, but the inhabitants looked at the captives with pitying
eyes. When these reached the house in which they were to be
confined, the natives brought them presents of food, bribing the
Roman guards to allow them to deliver them.

As the language of the two peoples was almost identical, the
Gauls had no difficulty in making themselves understood by the
captives, and asked many questions relating to the state of
affairs in Britain. They had heard of the chief, Beric, who had
for a year successfully opposed the forces of Rome, and great was
their surprise when they found that the youngest of the party was
the noted leader. Two days later they started on their long
march.

Inured as the Britons were to fatigue, the daily journeys were
nothing to them. They found the country flourishing. Villages
occurred at frequent intervals, and they passed through several
large towns with temples, handsome villas, and other Roman
erections similar to those that they had sacked at the capture of
Camalodunum.

“The people here do not seem to suffer under the Roman rule at
any rate,” Boduoc remarked; “they appear to have adopted the
Roman dress and tongue, but for all that they are slaves.”

“Not slaves, Boduoc, though they cannot be said to be free;
however, they have become so accustomed to the Roman dominion
that doubtless they have ceased to fret under it; they are,
indeed, to all intents and purposes Roman. They furnish large
bodies of troops to the Roman armies, and rise to positions of
command and importance among them. In time, no doubt, unless
misfortunes fall upon Rome, they will become as one people, and
such no doubt in the far distance will be the case with Britain.
We shall adopt many of the Roman customs, and retain many of our
own. There is one advantage, you see, in Roman dominion–there
are no more tribal wars, no more massacres and slaughters, each
man possesses his land in peace and quiet.”

“But what do they do with themselves?” Boduoc asked, puzzled.
“In such a country as this there can be few wild beasts. If men
can neither fight nor hunt, how are they to employ their time?
They must become a nation of women.”

“It would seem so to us, Boduoc, for we have had nothing else
to employ our thoughts; but when we look at what the Romans have
done, how great an empire they have formed, how wonderful are
their arts, how good their laws, and what learning and wisdom
they have stored up, one sees that there are other things to live
for; and you see, though the Romans have learned all these
things, they can still fight. If they once turn so much to the
arts of peace as to forget the virtues of war, their empire will
fall to pieces more rapidly than it has been built up.”

Boduoc shook his head, “These things are well enough for you,
Beric, who have lived among the Romans and learned many of their
ways. Give me a life in which a man is a man; when we can live in
the open air, hunt the wolf and the bear, meet our enemies face
to face, die as men should, and go to the Happy Island without
bothering our brains about such things as the arts and luxuries
that the Romans put such value on. A bed on the fallen leaves
under an oak tree, with the stars shining through the leaves, is
better than the finest chamber in Rome covered with
paintings.”

“Well, Boduoc,” Beric said good temperedly, “we are much more
likely to sleep under the stars in Rome than in a grand apartment
covered with paintings; but though the one may be very nice, as
you say, in summer, I could very well put up with the other when
the snow lies deep and the north wind is howling.”

They did not, as Beric had hoped, cross the tremendous
mountains, over which, as he had read in Polybius, Hannibal had
led his troops against Rome. Hannibal had been his hero. His
dauntless bravery, his wonderful resources, his cheerfulness
under hardships, and the manner in which, cut off for years from
all assistance from home, he had yet supported the struggle and
held Rome at bay, had filled him with the greatest admiration,
and unconsciously he had made the great Carthaginian his model.
He was therefore much disappointed when he heard from the
conversation of his guards that they were to traverse Gaul to
Massilia, and thence take ship to Rome.

The Roman guards were fond of talking to their young captive.
Their thoughts were all of Rome, from which they had been so long
absent, and Beric was eager to learn every detail about the
imperial city; the days’ marches therefore passed pleasantly. At
night they were still guarded, but they were otherwise allowed
much liberty, and when they stopped for two or three days at a
place they were free to wander about as they chose, their great
stature, fair hair, and blue eyes exciting more and more surprise
as they went farther south, where the natives were much shorter
and swarthier than those of northern Gaul.

One of the young officers with Suetonius had taken a great
fancy to Beric, and frequently invited him to spend the evening
with him at their halting places. When they approached Massilia
he said, “I have some relations in the city, and I will obtain
leave for you to stay with me at their house while we remain in
the town, which may be for some little time, as we must wait for
shipping. My uncle is a magistrate, and a very learned man. He is
engaged in writing a book upon the religions of the world, and he
seldom remains long at any post. He has very powerful friends in
Rome, and so is able to get transferred from one post to another.
He has been in almost every province of the empire in order to
learn from the people themselves their religions and beliefs. I
stayed with him for a month here two years since on my way to
Britain, and he was talking of getting himself transferred there,
after he had been among the Gauls for a year or two; but his wife
was averse to the idea, protesting that she had been dragged
nearly all over the world by him, and was determined not to go to
its furthest boundaries. But I should think that after the events
of the last year he has given up that idea. I know it will give
him the greatest possible pleasure to converse with one who can
tell him all about the religions and customs of the Britons in
his own language.”

Massilia was by far the largest city that the Britons had
entered, and they were greatly surprised at its magnitude, and at
the varieties of people who crowded its streets. Even Boduoc, who
professed a profound indifference for everything Roman, was
stupefied when he saw a negro walking in the train of a Roman
lady of rank.

“Is it a human being, think you,” he murmured in Beric’s ear,
“or a wild creature they have tamed? He has not hair, but his
head is covered with wool like a black sheep.”

“He is a man,” Beric replied. “Across the sea to the south
there are brown men many shades darker than the people here, and
beyond these like lands inhabited by black men. Look at him
showing his teeth and the whites of his eyes. He is as much
surprised at our appearance, Boduoc, as we are at his. We shall
see many like him in Rome, for Pollio tells me that they are held
in high estimation as slaves, being good tempered and
obedient.”

“He is hideous, Beric; look at his thick lips. But the
creature looks good tempered. I wonder that any woman could have
such an one about the house. Can they talk?”

“Oh, yes, they talk. They are men just the same as we are,
except for their colour.”

“But what makes them so black, Beric?”

“That is unknown; but it is supposed that the heat of the sun,
for the country they inhabit is terribly hot, has in time
darkened them. You see, as we have gone south, the people have
got darker and darker.”

“But are they born that colour, Beric?”

“Certainly they are.”

“If a wife of mine bore me a child of that colour,” Boduoc
said, “I would strangle it. And think you that it is the heat of
the sun that has curled up their hair so tightly?”

“That I cannot say–they are all like that.”

“Well, they are horrible,” Boduoc said positively. “I did not
think that the earth contained such monsters.”

Soon after the captives were lodged in a prison, Pollio came
to see Beric, and told him that he had obtained permission for
him to lodge at his uncle’s house, he himself being guarantee for
his safe custody there; accordingly they at once started
together.

The house was a large one; for, as Pollio had told Beric by
the way, his uncle was a man of great wealth, and it was a matter
of constant complaint on the part of his wife that he did not
settle down in Rome. Passing straight through the atrium, where
he was respectfully greeted by the servants and slaves, Pollio
passed into the tablinum, where his uncle was sitting
writing.

“This is the guest I told you I should bring, uncle,” he said.
“He is a great chief, young as he looks, and has given us a world
of trouble. He speaks Latin perfectly, and you will be able to
learn from him all about the Britons without troubling yourself
and my aunt to make a journey to his country.”

Norbanus was an elderly man, short in figure, with a keen but
kindly face. He greeted Beric cordially.

“Welcome, young chief,” he said. “I will try to make your stay
here comfortable, and I shall be glad indeed to learn from you
about your people, of whom, unfortunately, I have had no
opportunity hitherto of learning anything, save that when I
journeyed up last year to the northwest of Gaul, I found a people
calling themselves by the same name as you. They told me that
they were a kindred race, and that your religion was similar to
theirs.”

“That may well be,” Beric said. “We are Gauls, though it is
long since we left that country and settled in Britain. It may
well be that in some of the wars in the south of the island a
tribe, finding themselves overpowered, may have crossed to Gaul,
with which country we were always in communication until it was
conquered by you. We certainly did not come thence, for all our
traditions say that the Iceni came by ship from a land lying due
east from us, and that we were an offshoot of the Belgae, whose
country lay to the northwest of Gaul.”

“The people I speak of,” the magistrate said, “have vast
temples constructed of huge stones placed in circles, which
appear to me to have, like the great pyramids of Egypt, an
astronomical signification, for I found that the stones round the
sacrificial altars were so placed that the sun at its rising
threw its rays upon the stone only upon the longest day of
summer.”

“It is so with our great temples,” Beric said; “and upon that
day sacrifices are offered. What the signification of the stones
and their arrangements is I cannot say. These mysteries are known
only to the Druids, and they are strictly preserved from the
knowledge of those outside the priestly rank.”

“Spare him for today, uncle,” Pollio said laughing. “We are
like, I hear, to be a fortnight here before we sail; so you will
have abundant time to learn everything that Beric can tell you. I
will take him up now, with your permission, and introduce him to
my aunt and cousins.”

“You will find them in the garden, Pollio. Supper will be
served in half an hour. Tomorrow, Beric, we will, after
breakfast, renew this conversation that my feather brained young
nephew has cut so short.”

“My Aunt Lesbia will be greatly surprised when she sees you,”
Pollio laughed as they issued out into the garden. “I did not see
her until after I had spoken to my uncle, and I horrified her by
telling her that the noted British chief Beric, who had defeated
our best troops several times with terrible slaughter, was coming
here to remain under my charge until we sail for Rome. She was
shocked, considering that you must be a monster of ferocity; and
even my pretty cousins were terrified at the prospect. I had half
a mind to get you to attire yourself in Roman fashion, but I
thought that you would not consent. However, we shall surprise
them sufficiently as it is.”

Lesbia was seated with her two daughters on couches placed
under the shade of some trees. Two or three slave girls stood
behind them with fans. A dalmatian bore hound lay on the ground
in front of them. Another slave girl was singing, accompanying
herself on an instrument resembling a small harp, while a negro
stood near in readiness to start upon errands, or to fetch
anything that his mistress might for the moment fancy. Lesbia
half rose from her reclining position when she saw Pollio
approaching, accompanied by a tall figure with hair of a golden
colour clustering closely round his head. The Britons generally
wore their hair flowing over their shoulders; but the Iceni had
found such inconvenience from this in making their way through
the close thickets of the swamps, that many of them–Beric
among the number–had cut their hair close to the head. With
him it was but a recurrence to a former usage, as while living
among the Romans his hair had been cut short in their fashion.
The two girls, who were fifteen and sixteen years old, uttered an
exclamation of surprise as Beric came near, and Lesbia exclaimed
angrily:

“You have been jesting with us, Pollio. You told me that you
were going to bring Beric the fierce British chief here, and this
young giant is but a beardless lad.”

Pollio burst into a fit of laughter, which was increased at
the expression of astonishment in Lesbia’s face when Beric said,
in excellent Latin,–“Pollio has not deceived you, lady. My
name is Beric, I was the chief of the Britons, and my followers
gave some trouble even to Suetonius.”

“But you are not the Beric whom we have heard of as leading
the insurgent Britons?”

“There is no other chief of my name,” Beric said. “Therefore,
if you heard aught of good or evil concerning Beric the Briton,
it must relate to me.”

“This is Beric, aunt,” Pollio said, “and you must not judge
him by his looks. I was with Suetonius in his battles against
him, and I can tell you that we held him in high respect, as we
had good cause for doing, considering that in all it cost the
lives of some twelve hundred legionaries before we could overcome
him, and we took him by treachery rather than force.”

“But how is it that he speaks our language?” Lesbia asked.

“I was a hostage for five years among the Romans,” Beric said,
“and any knowledge I may have of the art of war was learned from
the pages of Caesar, Polybius, and other Roman writers. The
Romans taught me how to fight them.”

“And now,” Pollio broke in, “I must introduce you in proper
form. This is my Aunt Lesbia, as you see; these are my cousins
Aemilia and Ennia. Do you know, girls, that these Britons, big
and strong as they are, are ruled by their women. These take part
in their councils, and are queens and chieftainesses, and when it
is necessary they will fight as bravely as the men. They are held
by them in far higher respect than with us, and I cannot say that
they do not deserve it, for they think of other things than
attiring themselves and spending their time in visits and
pleasure.”

“You are not complimentary, Pollio,” Aemilia said; “and as to
attire, the young Romans think as much of it as we do, and that
without the same excuse, for we are cut off from public life, and
have none save home pursuits. If you treat us as you say the
Britons treat their women, I doubt not that we should show
ourselves as worthy of it.”

“Now I ask you fairly, Aemilia, can you fancy yourself
encouraging the legionaries in the heat of battle, and seizing
spear and shield and rushing down into the thick of the fight as
I have seen the British women do?”

“No, I cannot imagine that,” Aemilia said laughing. “I could
not bear the weight of a shield and spear, much less use them in
battle. But if the British women are as much bigger and stronger
than I am, as Beric is bigger and stronger than you are, I can
imagine their fighting. I wondered how the Britons could
withstand our troops, but now that I see one of them there is no
difficulty in comprehending it, and yet you do not look fierce,
Beric.”

“I do not think that I am fierce,” Beric said smiling; “but
even the most peaceful animal will try and defend itself when it
is attacked.”

“Have you seen Norbanus?” Lesbia asked.

“He has seen him,” Pollio replied; “and if it had not been for
me he would be with him still, for my uncle wished to engage him
at once in a discourse upon the religion and customs of his
people; I carried Beric away almost forcibly.”

Lesbia sighed impatiently. The interest of her husband in
these matters was to her a perpetual source of annoyance. It was
owing to this that she so frequently travelled from one province
to another, instead of enjoying herself at the court in Rome. But
although in all other matters Norbanus gave way to her wishes, in
this he was immovable, and she was forced to pass her life in
what she considered exile. She ceased to take any further
interest in the conversation, but reclined languidly on her
couch, while Pollio gave his cousins a description of his life in
Britain, and Beric answered their numerous questions as to his
people. Their conversation was interrupted by a slave announcing
that supper was ready, and Lesbia was relieved at finding that
Beric thoroughly understood Roman fashions, and comported himself
at table as any other guest would have done. The girls sat down
at the meal, although this was contrary to usual custom; but
Norbanus insisted that his family should take their meals with
him, save upon occasions of a set banquet.

“It seems wonderful,” Ennia said to her sister later on, “that
we should have been dining with the fierce chief of whom we have
heard so much, and that he should be as courteous and pleasant
and well mannered as any young Roman.”

“A good deal more pleasant than most of them,” Aemilia said,
“for he puts on no airs, and is just like a merry, good tempered
lad, while if a young Roman had done but a tithe of the deeds he
has he would be insufferable. We must get Pollio to take us
tomorrow to see the other Britons. They must be giants indeed,
when Beric, who says he is but little more than eighteen years,
could take Pollio under his arm and walk away with him.”

In the morning, accordingly, Pollio started with his two
cousins to the prison, while Beric sat down for a long talk with
Norbanus in his study. Beric soon saw that the Roman viewed all
the matters on which he spoke from the standpoint of a
philosopher without prejudices.

After listening to all that Beric could tell him about the
religion of the Britons, he said, “It is remarkable that all
people appear to think that they have private deities of their
own, who interest themselves specially on their behalf, and aid
them to fight their battles. I have found no exception to this
rule, and the more primitive the people the more obstinate is
this belief. In Rome at present the learned no longer believe in
Jupiter and Mars and the rest of the deities, though they still
attend the state ceremonies at the temples, holding that a state
religion is necessary. The lower class still believe, but then
they cannot be said to reason. In Greece scepticism is universal
among the upper class, and the same may now be said of Egypt. Our
Roman belief is the more unaccountable since we have simply
borrowed the religion of the Greeks, the gods and their
attributes being the same, with only a change of name; and yet we
fancy that these Greek gods are the special patrons of Rome.

“Your religion seems to me the most reasonable of any I have
studied, and approaches more nearly than any other to the highest
speculations of the Greek philosophers. You believe in one God,
who is invisible and impersonal, who pervades all nature; but
having formed so lofty an idea of him, you belittle him by making
him a special god of your own country, while if he pervades all
nature he must surely be universal. The Jews, too, believe in a
single God, and in this respect they resemble you in their
religion, which is far more reasonable than that of nations who
worship a multiplicity of deities; but they too consider that
their God confines His attention simply to them, and rules over
only the little tract they call their own–a province about a
hundred miles long, by thirty or forty wide. From them another
religion has sprung. This has made many converts, even in Rome,
but has made no way whatever among the learned, seeing that it is
more strange and extravagant than any other. It has, however, the
advantage that the new God is, they believe, universal, and has
an equal interest in all people. I have naturally studied the
tenets of this new sect, and they are singularly lofty and pure.
They teach among other things that all men are equal in the sight
of God–a doctrine which naturally gains for them the approval
of slaves and the lower people, but, upon the other hand, brings
them into disfavour with those in power.

“They are a peaceful sect, and would harm no one; but as they
preach that fighting is wrong, I fear that they will before long
come into collision with the state, for, were their doctrines to
spread, there would soon be a lack of soldiers. To me it appears
that their views are impracticable on this subject. In other
respects they would make good citizens, since their religion
prescribes respect to the authorities and fair dealing in all
respects with other men. They are, too, distinguished by charity
and kindness towards each other. One peculiarity of this new
religion is, that although springing up in Judaea, it has made
less progress among the Jews than elsewhere, for these people,
who are of all others the most obstinate and intolerant, accused
the Founder of the religion, one Christus, before the Roman
courts, and He was put to death, in my opinion most unjustly,
seeing that there was no crime whatever alleged against Him, save
that He perverted the religion of the Jews, which was in no way a
concern of ours, as we are tolerant of the religions of all
people.”

“But Suetonius attacked our sacred island and slew the priests
on the altars,” Beric objected.

“That is quite true,” Norbanus said, “but this had nothing
whatever to do with the religion, but was simply because the
priests stirred up insurrection against us. We have temples in
Rome to the deities of almost every nation we have subdued, and
have suffered without objection the preachers of this new
doctrine to make converts. The persecutions that have already
begun against the sect are not because they believe in this
Christus, but because they refuse to perform the duties incumbent
upon all Roman citizens. Two of my slaves belong to the sect.
They know well that I care not to what religion they belong, and
indeed, for my part, I should be glad to see all my slaves join
them, for the moral teaching is high, and these slaves would not
steal from me, however good the opportunity. That is more than I
can say of the others. Doubtless, had I been fixed in Rome, the
fact that they belonged to these people would have been kept a
secret, but in the provinces no one troubles his head about such
matters. These are, to my mind, matters of private opinion, and
they have leave from me to go on their meeting days to the place
where they assemble, for even here there are enough of them to
form a gathering.

“So long as this is done quietly it is an offence to no one.
The matter was discussed the other day among us, for orders
against Christians came from Rome; but when the thing was spoken
of I said that, as I believed members of the sect were chiefly
slaves, who were not called upon to perform military duties, I
could not deem that the order applied to them, and that as these
were harmless people, and their religion taught them to discharge
their duty in all matters save that of carrying arms, I could not
see why they should be interfered with. Moreover, did we move in
the matter, and did these people remain obstinate in their Faith,
we might all of us lose some valuable slaves. After that no more
was said of the matter. Now tell me about your institution of the
bards, of which I have heard. These men seem not only to be the
depositors of your traditions and the reciters of the deeds of
your forefathers, but to hold something of a sacred position
intermediate between the Druids and the people.”

For some hours Beric and his host conversed on these subjects,
Beric learning more than he taught, and wondering much at the
wide knowledge possessed by Norbanus. It was not until dinner was
announced that the Roman rose.

“I thank you much, Beric, for what you have told me, and I
marvel at the interest that you, who have for the last two years
been leading men to battle, evince in these matters. After five
minutes of such talk my nephew Pollio would begin to weary.”

“I was fond of learning when I was in the household of Caius
Muro, but my time was chiefly occupied by the study of military
works and in military exercises; still I found time to read all
the manuscripts in Muro’s library. But I think I learned more
from the talk of Cneius Nepo, his secretary, who was my
instructor, than from the books, for he had travelled much with
Muro, and had studied Greek literature.”

Pollio had returned some time before with his cousins.

“I would have come in before to carry you away,” he whispered
to Beric as they proceeded to the dinner table, “but it would
have put out my uncle terribly, and as I knew you would have to
go through it all I thought it as well that you should finish
with it at once.”

“I am glad you did not,” Beric replied. “It has been a great
pleasure to me to listen to your uncle’s conversation, from which
I have learned a good deal.”

Pollio glanced up to see if Beric was joking. Seeing that he
spoke in perfect good faith, he said:

“Truly, Beric, you Britons are strange fellows. I would rather
go through another day’s fighting in your swamps than have to
listen to uncle for a whole morning.”

As they sat down he went on:

“The girls are delighted with your Britons, Beric. They
declare they are not only the biggest but the handsomest men they
ever saw, and I believe that if your lieutenant Boduoc had asked
either of them to return with him and share his hut in the swamps
they would have jumped at the offer.”

The girls both laughed.

“But they are wonderful, Beric,” Aemilia said. “When you told
us that you were not yet full grown I thought you were jesting,
but I see now that truly these men are bigger even than you are.
I wish I had such golden hair as most of them have, and such a
white skin. Golden hair is fashionable in Rome, you know, but it
is scarce, except in a few whose mothers were Gauls who have
married with Romans.”

“It is the nature of man to admire the opposite to himself,”
Norbanus said. “You admire the Britons because they are fair,
while to them, doubtless, Roman women would appear beautiful
because their hair and their eyes are dark.”

“But Beric has not said so, father,” Aemilia said
laughing.

“I am not accustomed to pay compliments,” Beric said with a
smile, “but assuredly your father is right. I have been
accustomed for the last two years to see British maidens only.
These are fair and tall, some of them well nigh as tall as I, and
as they live a life of active exercise, they are healthy and
strong.”

“That they are,” Pollio broke in. “I would as soon meet a
soldier of the Goths as one of these maidens Beric speaks of,
when her blood is up. I have seen our soldiers shrink from their
attack, when, with flashing eyes and hair streaming behind them,
they rush down upon us, armed with only stones and billets of
wood that they had snatched up. What they may be in their gentler
moments I know not, and I should hesitate to pay my court to one,
for, if she liked it not, she would make small difficulty in
throwing me outside the door of her hut.”

“You are too quick, Pollio,” Aemilia said. “Beric was about to
compare us with them.”

“The comparison is difficult,” Beric said; “but you must not
imagine our women as being always in the mood in which Pollio has
seen them. They were fighting, not for their lives, but in order
to be killed rather than fall into the hands of your soldiers.
Ordinarily they are gentle and kind. They seemed to Pollio to be
giantesses, but they bear the same proportion to our height as
you do to the height of the Roman men.”

“I meant not to say aught against them,” Pollio broke in
hastily. “I meant but to show my cousins how impossible it was
for you to make any comparison between our women and yours. All
who know them speak well of the British women, and admire their
devotion to their husbands and children, their virtue, and
bravery. You might as well compare a Libyan lioness with a
Persian cat as the British women with these little cousins of
mine.”

“But the Persian cat has, doubtless, its lovable qualities,”
Beric said smiling. “It is softer and gentler and better mannered
than the lioness, though, perhaps, the lion might not think so.
But truly your Roman ladies are beyond comparison with ours. Ours
live a life of usefulness, discharging their duties as mistress
of the household, intent upon domestic cares, and yet interested
as ourselves in all public affairs, and taking a share in their
decision. Your ladies live a life of luxury. They are shielded
from all trouble. They are like delicate plants by the side of
strong saplings. No rough air has blown upon them. They are
dainty with adornments gathered from the whole world, and nature
and art have combined alike to make them beautiful.”

“All of which means, Aemilia,” Pollio laughed, “that, in
Beric’s opinion, you are pretty to look at, but good for nothing
else.”

“I meant not that,” Beric said eagerly, “only that the things
you are good for are not the things which British women are good
for. You have no occasion to be good housewives, because you have
slaves who order everything for you. But you excel in many things
of which a British woman never so much as heard. There is the
same difference that there is between a cultured Roman and one of
my tribesmen.”

“Human nature is the same everywhere,” Norbanus said, “fair or
dark, great or small. It is modified by climate, by education, by
custom, and by civilization, but at bottom it is identical. And
now, Pollio, I think you had better take Beric down to the port,
the sight of the trade and shipping will be new to him.”

CHAPTER
XII: A SCHOOL FOR GLADIATORS

As the vessels carrying Suetonius, his suite, and captives
sailed up the Tiber it was met by a galley bearing the orders of
the senate that Suetonius was not to traverse the streets with an
armed suite and captives in his train, but was to land as a
private person; that the soldiers were to march to the barracks
on the Capitoline, where they would receive their arrears of pay
and be disbanded; and that the captives were to be handed over to
a centurion, who with his company would be at the landing place
to receive them. Pollio took the news to Beric, who was on board
the same ship, the rest of the captives being with the soldiers
in the vessel which followed.

“I am rejoiced, indeed,” he said, “for although I knew that
the general would not receive a triumph, I feared that if he made
a public entry it was possible there might be a public outcry for
your life, which would, by our custom, have been forfeited had
there been a triumph. I doubt not that the hand of Petronius is
in this; his messengers would have arrived here weeks ago, and it
may be that letters despatched as much as a month after we left
have preceded us. Doubtless he would have stated that his
clemency had had the desired effect, and that all trouble was at
an end; he may probably have added that this was partly due to
your influence, and warned them that were you put to death it
would have a deplorable effect among your people and might cause
a renewal of trouble. Suetonius is furious, for he has hoped much
from the effect his entry with captives in his train would have
produced. He has powerful enemies here; scarce a noble family but
has lost a connection during the troubles in Britain, and
Suetonius is of course blamed for it. You and I know that,
although he has borne himself harshly towards the Britons, the
rising was due to Catus rather than to him, but as Catus is a
creature of Nero the blame falls upon Suetonius.”

“It was the deeds of Catus that caused the explosion,” Beric
said; “but it would have come sooner or later. It was the long
grinding tyranny that had well nigh maddened us, that drove
Caractacus first to take up arms, that raised the western tribes,
and made all feel that the Roman yoke was intolerable. The news
of the massacre of the Druids and the overthrow of our altars
converted the sullen discontent into a burning desire for
revenge, and the insult to Boadicea was the signal rather than
the cause of the rising. It is to the rule of Suetonius that it
is due that hundreds of thousands of Britons, Romans, and their
allies have perished.”

“The fault of Suetonius,” Pollio said, “was that he was too
much of a soldier. He thought of military glory, and left all
other matters, save the leading of his troops, in the hands of
his civilians. Petronius is a general, but he has distinguished
himself more in civil matters. Two generals have been sent out
with him, to lead the troops if necessary, but he has been chosen
as an administrator.”

“They should have sent him out ten years ago,” Beric said,
“and there then would have been no occasion for generals.”

They were now approaching Rome, and Beric’s attention was
entirely occupied by the magnificent scene before him, and with
the sight of the temples and palaces rising thickly upon the
seven hills. Massilia had surprised him by its size and
splendour, but beside Rome it was only a village. “Rome would do
well,” he said to Pollio, “to bring the chiefs of every conquered
country hither; the sight would do more than twenty legions to
convince them of the madness of any efforts to shake off the
Roman yoke.”

“I will see you tomorrow,” Pollio said as they neared the
landing place. “I shall see many of my friends today, and get
them to interest themselves in your behalf. I will find out for
you where Caius Muro is at present; doubtless he too will do what
he can for you, seeing that you lived so long in his charge;” for
Beric had not mentioned to his friend aught of the manner in
which he had saved Muro’s daughter at the sack of
Camalodunum.

As soon as the centurion came on board Pollio recommended
Beric to his care, saying that he was the chief of the party of
British captives, and that during the journey he had formed a
close friendship with him.

“I shall not be in charge of him long,” the centurion said. “I
have but to hand him over to the governor of the prison, but I
will tell him what you have said to me. He must now go on board
the other ship and join his companions, for my orders are that
they are not to be landed until after dark.” Pollio nodded to
Beric; this was another proof that it was determined the populace
should not be excited in favour of Suetonius by the passage of
the captives through the streets.

Beric rejoined his companions. “Well, Boduoc, what think you
of Rome?”

“I have been thinking how mad our enterprise was, Beric. You
told me about the greatness of Rome and from the first predicted
failure, but I thought this was because you had been infected by
your Roman training; I see now that you were right. Well, and
what do you think is going to be done with us?”

“It is evident there is going to be no public display of us,
Boduoc. Suetonius is at present in disgrace, and we shall be
either sent into the school for gladiators, or set to work at
some of the palaces Nero is building.”

“They may do what they like,” Boduoc said, “but I will not
fight for their amusement. They may train me if they like and
send me into the arena, but if they do I will not lift sword, but
will bid my opponent slay me at once.”

There was a murmur of assent from some of the others; but
another who said, “Well, I would rather die fighting anyway than
work as a slave at Roman palaces,” found a response from
several.

The next day they were marched up to Nero’s palace.

Surprised as they might be by the splendour of the streets
they traversed, and by the grandeur and magnificence of the
palace, they betrayed no sign whatever of their feelings, but
marched through the vast halls with their wealth of marble and
adornments with calm and unmoved faces. At last they reached the
audience hall, where the emperor was seated with a throng of
courtiers behind him.

Nero was five-and-twenty, but looked older, for his dissolute
habits had already left their marks upon his features. He had an
air of good temper, and a rough frankness of manner that rendered
him popular among the mass of the people, whom he courted by
every means in his power, distributing with lavish hand the
wealth he gained by confiscation and spoliation of the rich. The
Britons bowed deeply before him and then stood upright and
fearless.

“By Hercules,” the emperor said to the councillor standing
next to him, “but these are grand men! No wonder Suetonius has
had such trouble in subduing them. And this young man is their
chief? Truly, as Petronius said in his letter, he is but a lad.
You speak our language too?” he went on, addressing Beric.

“I was brought up as a hostage among the Romans,” he replied,
“and was instructed in their language and literature.”

“Then you should have known better than to rise against us,
young chief.”

“Two years ago I was but a boy, Caesar,” Beric replied,
“scarce deemed old enough to fight, much less to give an opinion
in the presence of my elders. I was well aware that the struggle
must end in our defeat; but when the chiefs of my nation decided
for war, I had nought to do but to go with them.”

“But how is it, then, that you came to command so many, and
became in time the leader of so large a band?”

“It was because I had studied your military books, and knew
that only by an irregular warfare could we hope to prolong our
existence. It was no longer an insurrection; we were simply
fugitives trying to sell our lives dearly. If Suetonius had
offered us terms we would gladly have laid down our arms, but as
he simply strove to destroy us we had, like animals brought to
bay, to fight for our own lives. The moment Petronius offered to
allow my people to return to their homes and pay tribute to Rome
I advised them to submit.”

“So Petronius tells me, and he has said much to excuse your
conduct.

“I would I could enlist this band as my bodyguard,” Nero said
in a low voice, turning to his councillor, “but the praetorian
guards are jealous of their privileges, and none save a Roman can
be enrolled in their ranks.”

“It would be dangerous, Caesar; the praetorians are well
affected to your majesty, and in these days when there are so
many ambitious generals at the head of armies it would be unwise
to anger them.”

“Then we will send them to the schools to be trained. Send
this lad with the four best of the others to Scopus, and divide
the rest among three other schools. The Romans have never seen
such men as these in the arena. We must not spoil it by matching
them at present with men whose skill more than makes up for their
want of strength. Two years in the schools will make marvels of
them. The lad will want more than that before he gains his full
bulk and strength, but he will some day turn out such a gladiator
as Rome has never seen; and if after a time we can find no
champion to withstand him, we can match him against the lions. I
will myself give Scopus orders concerning him.”

So saying he waved his hand. The guards closed round the
captives and they were led away.

“What is it all about, Beric?” Boduoc asked.

“We are to go to the school for gladiators,” Beric said; “but
as the emperor considers that you will all need two years’
training at the exercises before you will be fit to appear in the
ring, we shall have time to think matters over. Much may happen
before that. Nero may be liked by the mass of the people, but he
is hated and feared, as I hear, by the upper classes. He may be
assassinated or overthrown before that.”

“I don’t see that it will make much difference to us,” Boduoc
grumbled.

“I don’t know that it would. At any rate we have time before
us. We shall be well taken care of, well fed, and have plenty of
exercise. Before now the gladiators have shaken Rome to its
centre. What has happened once may happen again.”

As they passed along the streets of Rome the news that a party
of fair haired giants were being escorted under a guard spread
rapidly, and a crowd soon filled the streets. Windows opened and
ladies looked curiously down at the procession. Beric marched at
the head of his party, who followed four abreast, and their air
of calmness and self possession, their proud bearing, and the
massive strength of their figures roused the admiration of the
multitude, who, on learning from the guards that the captives
were Britons, greeted them with shouts of approval. So thick
became the crowd before they reached their destination, that the
Roman soldiers had difficulty in forcing their way through. As
they turned into the street in which stood the great school of
Scopus the crowd at once guessed the destination of the
captives.

“By all the gods!” one of the lookers on said, “these fellows
will furnish us with grand sport in the arena.”

“It is a shame to turn such grand looking men into
gladiators,” a woman said.

“What, would you like to pick a husband out among them, dame?”
the first speaker laughed.

“I would not mind. At any rate, I would prefer any of them to
such an ill looking scarecrow as you,” she retorted. “It is bad
enough when they kill off some of those Gauls, who are far too
good for such work; but the best of them I have seen in the arena
lacks six inches, both in height and breadth of shoulder, of
these Britons.”

“Ah!” the man grumbled, “that is always the way with women;
they think of nothing but strength.”

“Why shouldn’t we? Men think of nothing but beauty.”

And so, amid a chorus of remarks, for the most part
complimentary, the Britons strode along, surrounded by their
escort, until they reached the entrance to the school of Scopus.
The master, attracted by the noise in the street, was standing at
the entrance. He was a broad built man, but without an ounce of
superfluous flesh, with muscles and sinews standing up in knots
and ridges, and evidently possessed of extreme activity as well
as strength.

“Nero has sent you five fresh scholars, Scopus.”

“By Hercules,” Scopus said, “they are splendid barbarians!
Whence come they?”

“They are Britons.”

“Ah! Yes, Claudius brought back a few with him, but that was
before I was here. I would they were all a few years younger.
They are in their prime now; and to make a man first class, one
should begin with him young. This youngster here is just the age.
I warrant me there will not be many who can hold their own
against him when I have trained him.”

“He is their chief,” the centurion said, “and speaks our
language as well as you do.”

“That is good. I can speak a little Gaulish; but there is
always trouble with newcomers from out of the way countries when
we have no one who speaks their language.”

“Well, I will leave them with you; they are in your charge. I
have the other fifteen to divide among three other schools.”

“I will take care of them,” Scopus said. “There is good
feeding and good drinking here, and no one runs away. There is
nowhere to run to, that is one thing. Still, what could a man
want more than to be well housed, well fed, and have the
companionship of plenty of good fellows? Don’t you think so?” and
he turned to Beric.

“It is of no use asking for more if one is not likely to get
it; certainly we might do worse.”

“Well, follow me,” Scopus said. “I will introduce you to your
comrades.”

Beric and his companions took a hearty farewell of the others,
Beric telling them that doubtless they would have frequent
occasions of meeting; he then followed Scopus into a large hall.
Here some forty or fifty men were assembled. Some were swinging
weights round their heads, others were engaged at gymnastic
exercises. Two men, under the direction of an instructor, were
fighting with blunted swords; one great fellow, armed with sword
and shield, was hotly pursuing an active man of little over half
his weight, carrying a trident in one hand and a net in the
other, amid the laughter of a group watching them.

At the entrance of Scopus and his companions the proceedings
were arrested.

“Here are some fresh hands,” Scopus said, “who have come to
fill up the vacancies made in the games ten days since. They are
Britons, and I should imagine will require a lot of training
before they are fit for the arena. One of them talks Latin. The
rest, I fancy, will have, for the present, to content themselves
with the companionship of you Gauls, who are, as I believe, of
kindred race, though it seems to me that either you must have
fallen off in size, or they have increased since you
separated.”

Some seven or eight Gauls stepped forward and addressed the
Britons, and the latter, glad to find men who could speak their
language, responded heartily. The gladiators were of many races.
Besides the Gauls there were four or five Goths; some Iberians,
lean swarthy men; Numidians, fleet of foot, lithe and active–these
were used more often for contests with wild beasts than in
the gladiatorial conflicts, for which they lacked strength and
weight–Parthians and Scythians, together with a score of
natives of Italy, Romans and others, who had taken to the
profession of gladiator as they might have done to any other
calling.

“Now,” Scopus said to Beric, “you are free of the place; there
are no prisoners here. There are regular hours and exercises; but
beyond that your time is your own, to walk in the city, to see
the shows, or to remain here. As you see, all here dress somewhat
after Roman fashion, so that as they go abroad they may not be
stared at. There is no obligation that way, but it is more
comfortable. There are upwards of a hundred schools in Rome. Some
are larger than mine, and some smaller, but there is not one that
stands higher. When one of my men enters the ring the audience
know that they are going to see good sport.”

“Do we have to fight against each other, or against
strangers?”

“Against strangers,” Scopus said. “When there is going to be a
show day, so many schools are warned to send three or four men,
as the case may be, and the master of ceremonies matches them
against each other. Sometimes there may be ten couples, sometimes
forty or fifty, it depends whether it is a great occasion or not;
and of course each school hopes to see its champions win. That
fellow you saw running with a net, he is a Scythian, and so quick
and nimble that he always gets away, and is ready for a throw
again before his opponent can overtake him. He is a great
favourite of the public, for he has been in the arena twelve
times and has always conquered.”

“What do you consider to be the best weapon–the trident or
the sword?”

“If a man is active without being strong, I should make a
retiarius of him,” Scopus said. “If he is strong without being
active, he would naturally fight with sword and buckler. Then
there is the caestus, but the Romans do not care for that,
though, to my mind, it is the finest of all the exercises; for
that both strength and activity are required, but it is not
bloody enough for the Romans. Perhaps the thing that demands the
greatest skill and nerve and strength at the same time is to
fight wild beasts. However, we settle none of these things at
first. After a few months’ training we see what a man’s
capabilities are, and what he himself has a fancy for. I always
let a man choose, if he has any very strong wish in the matter,
for he is sure to succeed best in that. There are many who, even
with all my care, never turn out first class. These are reserved
to fight in what may be called general contests, which have
become popular lately, ten against ten, or fifty against fifty.
On two or three grand occasions there have been as many as a
thousand engaged. For these no particular skill is required; it
is one side against the other. Lastly, there are a few who turn
out so useless that it would be a waste of pains to try to make
anything of them. These are sent to the galleys, or to the public
works.”

“You never find any unwilling to learn?” Beric said.

“Not one,” the man said carelessly. “A man has to defend
himself, and even with blunt swords he will get awkward cracks if
he cannot protect his head. Besides, in the arena a man’s life
depends upon his skill, and the conquered is sure to have no
mercy shown him unless he has borne himself well. Therefore, each
man is anxious to learn. I have had a few obstinate fellows, for
the most part Goths, who would do nothing. I simply send them
down to the galleys, and I warrant me that they are not long in
finding out what fools they have been, and would give a good deal
to exchange their beds of hard boards and their coarse food for a
life of pleasure and freedom here.”

“As long as it lasts,” Beric said.

“Yes, as long as it lasts. But with all its dangers it is
likely to last as long as that of a galley slave. What with bad
food and hardship and toil and the taskmaster’s whip and the
burning sun, a galley slave’s life is a short one; while a
skilful gladiator may live for many years, and in time save money
enough to set up a school as I have done.”

“Were you a gladiator once?” Beric asked.

“Certainly I was; and so were all the masters of the schools,
except, perhaps, a few Greeks, whose methods differ from
ours.

“I was ten years in the arena, and fought thirty-five battles.
In thirty I was victorious, in the other five I was defeated; but
as I was a favourite, and always made a good fight, the thumbs
were turned up, which, as you may know, is the signal for
mercy.”

“Are you a Roman?”

“No, I am a Thessalian. I took to it young, having got into
trouble at home. We have blood feuds there, and having killed the
chief of a house with which my people had a quarrel I had to fly,
and so made to Pola. Thence I crossed to Brundusium. I worked
there in the dockyard for a year or two; but I was never fond of
hard work of that sort, so I came on here and entered a school.
Now, as you see, I am master of one. A gladiator who
distinguishes himself gets many presents, and I did well. The
life is not a bad one after all.”

“It must be hateful having to fight with men with whom you
have no quarrel,” Beric said.

“You don’t feel that after the first minute or two,” Scopus
laughed. “There is a man standing opposite to you with a sword or
a trident, and you know very well that if you do not kill him, he
is going to kill you. It makes very little difference, after you
once face each other, whether there was any quarrel between him
and you beforehand or not; the moment the fighting begins, there
is an end of all nonsense of that sort.

“What is an enemy? A man who wants to do you harm. This man
facing you is going to kill you, unless you kill him. There
cannot be a worse enemy than that. After all, it is just the same
with soldiers in a battle. They have no particular quarrel with
the men facing them; but directly the arrows begin to fly, and a
storm of javelins come singing through the air, you think of
nothing but of trying to kill the men who are trying to kill you.
I thought as you do before I entered the arena the first time,
but I never felt so afterwards. All these things are matters of
usage, and the gladiator, after his first combat, enters the ring
with just the same feeling as a soldier marches to meet an
enemy.”

Beric was silent. He had no doubt that there was some truth in
what Scopus said; his own experience in battle had shown him
this. But he was still determined in his mind that, come what
would, he would not fight for the amusement of the Romans. But it
was of no use to say this now; it might be a long time before he
was required to enter the arena, and until then he might as well
apply himself to gaining strength and science in arms. It did not
seem to him that there was any possibility of escape, but he
might at least take to the woods, and stand at bay there, and be
killed in a fair open fight. The next morning the exercises
began. They were at first of a moderate character, and were only
intended to strengthen the muscles and add to the endurance. For
the first six months they were told that their work would consist
only of gymnastic exercises–lifting weights, wielding heavy
clubs, climbing ropes, wrestling, and running on foot. Their food
was simple but plentiful. All adopted the Roman costume, in order
to avoid observation when they went abroad. Being a strong body,
and individually formidable, they were free from the rough jokes
generally played upon newcomers, and when, after six hours of
exercise, they sat down to a hearty dinner, the general feeling
among them was that things were better than they expected, and
the life of a gladiator, with the exception of his appearances in
the arena, was by no means a bad one. Pollio called in the
afternoon, as he had promised, and had a long talk with
Beric.

“In the first place, I have some bad news for you, Beric.
Caius Muro remained here but a month after his return from
Britain, and was then sent to command the legion in the north of
Syria.”

“That is bad news indeed, Pollio. I had looked forward to
seeing him. I had made sure that I should find one friend at
least in Rome.”

“It is unfortunate indeed, Beric, for he would have spoken for
you, and might have obtained a better lot for you. I hate seeing
you here,” he said passionately, “but it is better than being
executed at once, which is the lot that generally befalls the
chief of captives taken in war. Scopus is not a bad fellow when
things go well, but they say that he is a fiend when his blood is
up. He is one of the finest fighters we ever had in the arena,
though he left it before I was old enough to go there. I know him
well, however, for I used to come here with my elder brother, who
was killed four years ago in Africa. It is quite the fashion
among the young Romans to go the round of the schools and see the
gladiators practising, and then when the sports come on they bet
on the men they consider the most skilful.”

“A fine sport,” Beric said sarcastically.

“Well, you see, Beric, we have been bred up to it, and we
wager upon it just as you Britons do on your fights between
cocks. I never felt any hesitation about it before, because I had
no particular personal interest in any of the combatants. After
all, you know, life is dull in Rome for those who take no part in
politics, who have no ambition to rise at the court, and who do
not care overmuch for luxury. We have none of the hunting with
which you harden your muscles and pass your time in Britain.
Therefore it is that the sports of the arena are so popular with
our class as well as with that below it. You must remember, too,
that the greater portion of the gladiators are captives taken in
war, and would have been put to death at once had they not been
kept for this.”

“I do not say they have anything to complain of, Pollio, but I
am sure that most of them would much rather perish in battle than
be killed in the arena.”

“Yes, but it is not a question of being killed in battle,
Beric; it is a question of being captured in battle and put to
death afterwards. It may be the fashion some day or other to
treat captives taken in war with generosity and honour, but it
certainly is not so at present, either with us or with any other
nation that I know of. I don’t think that your people differ from
the rest, for every soul who fell into their hands was
slain.”

“I quite admit that,” Beric said; “and should have had no
cause for complaint had I been slain as soon as I was captured.
But there is something nobler in being killed as a victim of hate
by a victorious enemy than to have to fight to the death as a
holiday amusement.”

“I admit that,” Pollio said, “and though, since Nero came to
the throne, there has been an increase in these gladiatorial
displays, methinks there are fewer now than in the days before
the Empire, when Spartacus led twenty thousand gladiators against
Rome. There is one thing, if the creed of those Jews of whom
Norbanus was speaking to you ever comes to be the dominant
religion, there will be an end to the arena, for so averse are
these people to fighting, that when placed in the arena they will
not make even an effort to defend themselves. They do not, as do
the Goths sometimes, lower their swords and fall on the points.
Suicide they consider wrong, and simply wait calmly like sheep to
be killed. I have been talking with some friends over the
persecutions of two years ago, just after I left for Britain, and
they say it was wonderful to see the calmness with which the
Christians meet death. They say the persecution was given up
simply because the people became sick of spectacles in which
there was no interest or excitement. Well, Beric, are you ready
to go out with me?”

“You will not be ashamed to walk through the streets with a
gladiator, Pollio?”

“Ashamed! on the contrary, you must know that gladiators are
in fashion at present, Beric. The emperor prides himself on his
skill, and consorts greatly with gladiators, and has even himself
fought in the arena, and therefore it is the thing with all who
are about the court to affect the society of gladiators. But as
yet you are not one of them although you may have commenced your
training for the arena. But fashion or not, it would have made no
difference to me, you are my friend whatever evil fortune may
have done for you. The only difference is that whereas, had you
not been in fashion, I should have taken you with me only to the
houses of intimate friends, as I did at Massilia, now you will be
welcome everywhere. Besides, Beric, even in Rome a chief who has
kept Suetonius at bay for a year, and who is, moreover, a Latin
scholar accustomed to Roman society, is recognized as being an
object of great interest, especially when he is young and good
looking. I am glad to see that you have adopted clothes of our
fashion; they set you off to much better advantage than does the
British garb, besides attracting less attention.”

“I hope that you are not going to take me today to meet any
people, Pollio; I want to see the temples and public
buildings.”

“It shall be just as you wish, Beric.”

For hours Beric wandered about Rome with Pollio, so interested
in all he saw that he was scarce conscious of the attention he
himself attracted. From time to time they met acquaintances of
Pollio, who introduced them to Beric as “my friend the chief of
the Iceni, who cost us a year’s hard work and some twelve hundred
men before we captured him. Petronius has written so strongly to
Nero in his favour that his life has been spared, and he has been
placed in the school of Scopus;” and the languid young Romans,
looking at Beric’s height and proportions, no longer wondered at
the trouble that the Roman legions had had in overcoming the
resistance of a mere handful of barbarians. Beric on his part was
by no means surprised at the appearance of these young courtiers.
He had seen many of the same type at Camalodunum, and had heard
Caius lament the effeminacy of the rising generation; but he knew
that these scented young nobles could, if necessary, buckle on
armour and fight as valiantly as the roughest soldier; though why
they should choose to waste their lives at present in idleness,
when there was so much work to be done in every corner of the
vast empire, was altogether beyond his comprehension.

“Why is there a crowd gathered round that large building?” he
asked Pollio.

“That is one of the public granaries. Corn is brought here in
vast quantities from Sardinia and Sicily, from Spain and Africa,
and since Nero came to the throne it is distributed gratis to all
who choose to apply for it. No wonder Nero is popular among the
people; he feeds them and gives them shows–they want nothing
more. It is nothing to them, the cruelties he exercises upon the
rich.”

“But it must encourage the people in lazy habits,” Beric
said.

Pollio shrugged his shoulders. “They think because they are
citizens of the capital of the world they have a right to live in
idleness, and that others should work for them. At any rate it
keeps them in a good temper. There have been great tumults in
Rome in past times, but by drawing the tribute in corn and
distributing it freely here Nero keeps them in a high state of
contentment.”

“You don’t like Nero, Pollio?”

“I hate him,” Pollio said. “He is a tyrant–greedy, cruel,
and licentious. He had his own mother murdered because she
opposed his plans, and some of our best and noblest citizens have
been put to death, either because Nero was jealous of their
popularity, or because he desired to grasp their possessions. It
is horrible that Rome, which has conquered the world, should lie
prostrate at the feet of a creature like this. It was because my
father feared that some spy among the slaves might report what I
said about Nero that caused him to send me out to Suetonius, who
is a connection of our family, and he will ere long obtain for me
some other employment away from the capital. I shall be glad to
be gone, the atmosphere here seems to stifle one. Nero’s spies
are everywhere, and a man is afraid of speaking his thoughts even
in his own house. I like to take life easily, but I would rather
be battling with your people in the swamps than living in
idleness in Rome.”

“I thought you were glad to return, Pollio?”

“I thought I should be, Beric, but I suppose the active life
in Britain has spoilt me. I used to scent my hair and lounge in
the baths, and frequent the shows, and lead just such a life as
the young men we have spoken to this afternoon, and I was
contented with it. I wonder at myself now, but I cannot take up
the old life where I left it. I have been back for twenty-four
hours, and I am restless already and am longing to be doing
something.”

“I should think,” Beric said with a smile, “that you might
well put up with Rome for a few weeks. It seems to me that it
will take years to know all its wonders. There are the great
libraries, too, filled with the manuscripts, and as you
understand Greek you could study the writings of the sages and
philosophers.”

“I would rather row in the galleys,” Pollio said. “I don’t
mind an hour or two now and then with the historians, but the
philosophers are too deep for my shallow brain. Would you like to
look into a library now?”

Beric assented eagerly, and they entered one of these
buildings. It consisted of a great hall with innumerable couches
and benches for readers. Round the walls were pigeonholes, in
which the manuscripts were deposited, and numerous attendants
moved to and fro among the readers, supplying them with such
manuscripts as they desired, and taking away those they had done
with. Leaving the hall they passed through a series of large
apartments, in which hundreds of men were at work copying
manuscripts.

“These are scribes,” Pollio said. “Very many of them are
slaves whom the owners allow to work here, sharing with them
their earnings; others are freedmen who have either purchased
their liberty from their savings, or have been manumitted by
their owners. You see many of the most popular writings, such as
those of Caesar, Tacitus, Livy, or the poets Horace, Virgil, and
Ovid, are constantly in demand, and scores of copies must be kept
on hand. Then again many of the Greek authors are greatly in
request. The manuscripts wear out and must be replaced, so that
at the various libraries there are some thousands of scribes
always kept employed. You see among the scribes men of many
nationalities. Those men, for instance, are Egyptians. You see
the rolls they are copying, they are made of papyrus, which is
got, as I have heard my uncle say, from the leaf of a sort of
water plant. Some of them are copying these writings on to vellum
for the use of those who understand the Egyptian language, others
are translating them into Latin. Those men are Persians, and
those at the tables near them are Jews. They are making
translations of their sacred books, which are much read at
present, partly owing to the fact that the people are
troublesome, and probably an army will have to be sent against
them, partly because of the Christian sect, whose doctrines are
founded upon the Jewish sacred books, and are supported, as they
claim, by various prognostications of their augurs, or, as they
call them, prophets. The books, therefore, are of interest to the
learned, and it may be that some who come here to read them are
secretly disciples of the sect.”

“Can I come here and read?” Beric asked eagerly.

“Certainly you can, these libraries are open to all. So are
the baths, at least the greater portion of them; everything is
free here. But it is nearly time for us now to be going
home.”

Beric availed himself at once of the advantages offered by the
public libraries. It was only thus that men of moderate means
could in those days obtain access to books, for the cost of
manuscripts was considerable, and libraries were only to be found
in the houses of the wealthy. His taste for reading was a matter
of astonishment among the gladiators, and was the subject of a
good deal of jesting. This, however, was for the most part of a
good natured kind, but upon the part of one named Lupus it was
sneering and offensive.

This man, who was a professional gladiator, that is one of
those who had taken to it as a trade, was a Roman of unusual
stature and strength. He had been a worker in iron, and from
making arms took to their use. He had won many victories in the
arena, and was considered the champion of the school of Scopus,
the only man who approached him in the number of victories being
Porus, the Scythian, whose strong point, however, lay in his
activity and his dexterity in throwing the net rather than in
strength. Lupus had, from the first day of the Britons’ arrival
at the ludus, viewed them with aversion, his hostility to Beric
being especially marked, and he particularly objected to the
slight deference shown to him by his companions, in spite of the
protests of Beric himself, who in vain pointed out to them that
he was now no longer their chief, and that they were in all
respects comrades and equals.

Lupus had carefully abstained from any remarks that would
bring him into collision with the other Britons. Mortified as he
was that his strength and stature, of which he was very proud,
had been thrown into the shade by that of the newcomers, he felt
that in a quarrel their rough strength might render them more
than his match. Beric, however, he considered as but a youth, and
though doubtless powerful, deemed that his muscles would be no
match for his own seasoned strength. As yet he had not seen Beric
tried with any arms, and thought that the young barbarian could
know nothing of the management of weapons. At first his annoyance
only took the form of addressing him with an affected deference
as “my lord Beric;” but the discovery that, while he himself was
unable to read or write, the young Briton was fond of study, and
spent his spare time in the public libraries, afforded him
opportunities for constant sneers.

These Beric took in good part, but Boduoc, who had now picked
up enough Latin to understand the gist of his remarks, one day
intervened, and seizing Lupus by the shoulder dashed him to the
ground. The Roman sprang to his feet, caught up a knife from the
table, and rushed at Boduoc. Scopus, however, who was present,
with an angry growl sprang upon him, seizing him by the throat
with so vigorous a grasp that his face became purple, his eyes
stared, and he in vain gasped for breath. Then he flung him down
into a corner of the room with such force that he lay half
stunned.

“You dog,” he exclaimed, “how dare you take a knife? I will
have no quarrels here, as you know; and if you again venture on a
disturbance I will bid your comrades tie you up, and will flay
the skin off your back with the lash. The Briton was perfectly
right. Why can’t you leave his friend alone? I have marked your
ill natured jests before, and am glad that he punished you.”

Lupus rose slowly to his feet with an angry glare in his eyes.
He knew, however, that Scopus had in his time been unrivalled in
the arena, and that, moreover, the rest, who had been offended by
his airs of superiority, would side with the lanista against
him.

“I said nothing to the Briton,” he said; “it was the boy I
addressed. If it was an offence, why did he not take it up? Is he
a coward that others have to fight his battles? If he is
offended, why does he not challenge me to fight, as is customary
in all the ludi?”

“Because he is as yet but a pupil, and will not be fit to
enter the arena for three or four years,” Scopus said. “A fight
can only be between trained gladiators. You don’t suppose that a
fresh joined youth is going to fight with one who has won a score
of times in the arena?”

“Excuse me, Scopus,” Beric said quietly, “I am perfectly ready
to fight with this braggadocio, and challenge him to a contest; a
few hard knocks will do neither of us any harm, therefore let us
go into the school and have it out. It is much better so than to
have perpetual quarrelling.”

Scopus would have objected, but the gladiators broke into
shouts of “A fight! a fight!” and, as it was according to the
rules of all the ludi that quarrels should be fought out with
wooden swords without interference by the lanistae, he simply
shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, as he has challenged you, Lupus, I have nothing to say
to it;” and the whole of those present at once adjourned to the
school.

The combatants were armed with bucklers and with swords of the
same weight to those ordinarily used, but with square edges with
the corners rounded off, so that though they would give a heavy
blow they would not cut.

Lupus, confident in his skill, and furious at the humiliation
he had just suffered, at once sprang upon Beric, but the latter
as nimbly leaped back, catching the blow on his buckler, and at
the same time bringing his own with such force and weight upon
the Roman’s left shoulder that it brought him for a moment on his
knee. A shout of astonishment and applause burst from the lookers
on. Lupus would have instantly renewed the fight, but Beric
stepped back and lowered his sword.

“Your left arm is disabled,” he said. “You had best wait till
you can use your buckler again; it would not be a fair match
now.”

Furious as he was, Lupus felt the truth of what his opponent
said, and though the burst of applause at Beric’s magnanimity
angered him even more than before, he drew back a step or two. At
the order of Scopus two of the others came forward with some oil,
with which for some minutes they kneaded his shoulder.

“I am ready again,” he said at last, and the gladiators drew
back, and the opponents faced each other. Lupus had learned that
Beric was not, as he had supposed, entirely untaught; but
although he attributed the blow he had received solely to his own
rashness, he renewed the conflict with the same care and prudence
he would have shown had he been fighting with edged weapons in
the arena. He soon found, however, that he had met with an
opponent differing widely from those he had hitherto fought.
Beric had had excellent teachers among the veteran legionaries at
Camalodunum, and to skill in the sword he added a prodigious
activity. Instead of fighting in the ordinary Roman method,
standing firm, with the body bent forward and the buckler
stretched out at the level of the shoulder in front of him, he
stood lightly poised on his feet, ready to spring forward or
back, and with his shield across his body.

In vain Lupus tried to get to close quarters. His cramped
attitude prevented rapid movement, and he could not get even
within striking distance of his opponent save when the latter
sprang in to deliver a blow. These, however, fell vainly, for
Lupus was fighting now calmly and warily, and with sword or
shield guarded every blow aimed at him. Beric soon felt that he
should but exhaust himself did he continue to attack in this
fashion, and presently desisted, and standing his ground awaited
the attack of Lupus. The blows fell fast and heavy now. Then
Beric purposely lowered his buckler a moment; Lupus instantly
struck, springing a pace forward. Beric sharply threw up his left
arm, striking up the hand of Lupus as it fell, and at the same
moment brought his weapon with tremendous force down upon the
head of his antagonist, who fell as if killed.

“Habet, habet!” shouted the gladiators, alike exultant and
astonished at the defeat of the bully of the school.

“By the gods, Beric,” Scopus said, “you have given him a
lesson. I talked abut four years’ training, but even now I would
send you into the arena without fear. Why, there are but one or
two gladiators who are considered the superior of Lupus with the
sword, and he had from the first no chance with you.”

“It was simply because he did not understand my way of
fighting,” Beric said quietly. “No, Scopus, I will have the four
years’ training before I fight. I have chanced to overcome Lupus
this time, but I am not going to match myself against men until I
have my full strength.”

Scopus laughed. “That looks as if there was strength enough in
your arm, Beric,” he said pointing to the prostrate figure.
“However, I know from what you have said that you wish to put off
your entry into the arena as long as possible, and doubtless
practice and teaching will render you a far better swordsman than
you are now. Take him away,” he said to the others, pointing to
Lupus. “Dash cold water over him till he comes round, and then
bandage his head. I doubt if his skull be not broken. One of you
had better go for a leech to examine him; and mind, let not a
word be breathed outside the school as to this contest. We will
keep it silent until it is time for Beric to enter the arena, and
then we shall be dull indeed if we do not lay bets enough on him
to keep us in wine for a year. There is no fear of Lupus himself
saying a word about it. You may be sure that, roughly shaken as
his conceit may be, he will hold his tongue as to the fact that
he has found his master in what he was pleased to call a boy.
Mind, if I ever hear a word spoken outside the school on the
subject, I will make it my business to find out who spread the
report, and it will be very bad for the man who did it when I
bring it home to him.”

It was upwards of a week before Lupus was able to enter the
gymnasium again. Beric had particularly requested the others to
make no allusion to his discomfiture, but from that time the
superiority of Lupus was gone, and Beric’s position in the school
was fully established.

CHAPTER
XIII: A CHRISTIAN

While Beric thus spent his time between his exercises and the
schools and one or other of the libraries, varied occasionally by
paying a visit with Pollio, Boduoc and his companions were not
ill contented with their life. Most of them had, during the long
journey through Gaul, picked up a few words of Latin from their
guards, and as it was the language of the gymnasium, and was the
only medium by which the men of the various nationalities could
communicate with each other, they now rapidly increased their
knowledge of it, Beric strongly urging them to become acquainted
with it as soon as possible, as it might be most useful and
important to them. None of the others besides Boduoc were, Scopus
thought, ever likely to be a credit to him in the more serious
contests in the ring, but all showed an aptitude for wrestling
and boxing, and the lanista was well content with this, as the
games in the arena frequently commenced with these comparatively
harmless sports, and in many of the provincial cities wrestlers
and boxers were in great request.

Beric was much pleased when he heard from the master that he
intended to confine his teaching to these two exercises only with
regard to his companions; for although men were sometimes
seriously hurt by blows given by the masses of leather and lead,
which, wound round the fist, were used to give weight to the
blows, a final termination to the contests was rare. In the
exercises the men practised with many wrappings of wadding and
cotton wound round the caestus, answering the purpose of the
modern boxing glove. Beric himself was very partial to the
exercise, and as it strengthened the muscles, and gave quickness
and activity to the limbs, Scopus encouraged him in it.

“I do not see the use of the caestus,” Beric said one day.
“One could hit and guard much more quickly without it. It is
good, no doubt, for exercise, as it strengthens the muscles, but
surely for fighting it would be better to lay it aside. What is
the advantage of it? With the bare fist one can knock an opponent
down, and with a very few blows strike him senseless. What more
can you want than that?”

“Yes, for men like you Britons that would do, for a straight
blow from any one of you would well nigh break in the bones of
the face of an ordinary man, and, as you say, you could strike
much more quickly without the weight on your hands, but with
smaller men a contest might last for hours without the caestus,
and the spectators would get tired of it; but I will try the
experiment some day, and put up one of the Britons against Asthor
the Gaul, hands against the caestus, and see what comes of it. At
present he is more skilful than any of your people, but they are
getting on fast, and when one of them is fairly his match in
point of skill I will try it. If the Briton wins, I will, when
they first go into the arena, match them against the champions of
the other schools with bare hands against armed ones, and they
will get great credit if they win under those conditions. Both at
that and at wrestling you Britons are likely to carry all before
you. I should like to train you all only for that.”

“I wish you would,” Beric said earnestly.

“There is less honour in winning at wrestling and boxing than
in the other contests,” Scopus said.

“For that I care nothing whatever, Scopus; besides, you would
get more credit from my winning in those games than from my being
killed in the others. Strength and height count for much in them,
while against an active retiarius strength goes for very
little.”

“But you are active as well as strong, Beric, and so is
Boduoc. Moreover, when Caesar sent you to me to be prepared for
the ring, he meant that you should take part in the principal
contests, and he would be furious if, on some great occasion,
when he expected to see you stand up against a famous champion,
it turned out that you were only a wrestler.”

“I am ready and willing to learn all the exercises, Scopus–I
should like to excel in them all–but you might put me up as
a wrestler and boxer; then if Nero insisted on my betaking myself
to other weapons, I could do so without discredit to you. But my
opinion is that every man should do what he can do best. Were we
to fight with clubs, I think that we need have no fear of any
antagonists; but our strength is for the most part thrown away at
sword play, at which any active man with but half our strength is
our match. You have told me that Nero often looks in at your
school, and doubtless he will do so when he comes back from
Greece. You could then tell him that you had found that all the
Britons were likely to excel rather in wrestling and boxing,
where their strength and height came into play, than in the other
exercises, and that you therefore were instructing them chiefly
in them.”

“I will see what I can do,” Scopus said. “I like you Britons,
you are good tempered, and give me no trouble. I will tell you
what I will do, I will send to Greece for the best instructor in
wrestling I can get hold of, they are better at that than we are,
and wrestling has always ranked very high in their sports. Most
of you already are nearly a match for Decius; but you are all
worth taking pains about, for there are rich prizes to be won in
the provincial arenas, as well as at Rome; and in Greece, where
they do not care for the serious contests, there is high honour
paid to the winners in the wrestling games.”

As time went on Beric had little leisure to spend in
libraries, for the exercises increased in severity, and as,
instead of confining himself, as most of the others did, to one
particular branch, he worked at them all, the day was almost
entirely given up to exercises of one kind or another. His
muscles, and those of his companions, had increased vastly under
the training they received. All had been accustomed to active
exercise, but under their steady training every ounce of
superfluous flesh disappeared, their limbs became more firmly
knit, and the muscles showed out through the clear skin in
massive ridges.

“We should astonish them at home, Beric,” Boduoc said one day.
“It is strange that people like the Romans, who compared to us
are weakly by nature, should have so studied the art of training
men in exercises requiring strength. I used to wonder that the
Roman soldiers could wield such heavy spears and swords. Now I
quite understand it. We were just as nature made us, they are men
built up by art. Why, when we began, my arms used to ache in a
short time with those heavy clubs, now I feel them no more than
if they were willow wands.”

Pollio had remained but two months in Rome, and had then gone
out with a newly appointed general to Syria. Beric had missed his
light hearted friend much, but he was not sorry to give up the
visits with him to the houses of his friends. He felt that in
these houses he was regarded as a sort of show, and that the
captured British chief, who was acquainted with the Latin tongue
and with Roman manners, was regarded with something of the same
curiosity and interest as a tamed tiger might be. Besides,
however much gladiators might be the fashion in Rome, he felt a
degradation in the calling, although he quite appreciated the
advantage that the training would be to him should he ever return
to Britain. He was pleased to learn from Pollio, on the day
before he started, that he had heard that his uncle would ere
long return to Rome.

“I believe,” he said, “that it is entirely my aunt’s doing.
You know how she hates what she calls her exile, and I hear that
she has been quietly using all her family influence to obtain his
recall and his appointment as a magistrate here. I learn she is
likely to succeed, and that my uncle will be one of these fine
days astounded at receiving the news that he is appointed a
magistrate here. I don’t suppose he will ever learn my aunt’s
share in the matter, and will regard what others would take as a
piece of supreme good luck as a cruel blow of fortune. However,
if he did discover it, my aunt would maintain stoutly that she
did it for the sake of the girls, whom she did not wish to see
married to some provincial officer, and condemned, as she had
been, to perpetual exile; and as she would have the support of
all her relations, and even of my father, who is also convinced
that it is the greatest of all earthly happiness for a Roman to
reside at Rome, my uncle for once will have to give in. Aemilia,
too, will be glad to return to Rome, though I know that Ennia is
of a different opinion. I believe, from what she let drop one
day, that she has a leaning towards the new sect, of which she
has heard from the old slave who was her nurse. It will be a
great misfortune if she has, for it would cause terrible trouble
at home, and if any fresh persecution breaks out, she might be
involved. I am sure my aunt has no suspicion of it, for if she
had the slave would be flogged to death or thrown to the fishes,
and Ennia’s life would be made a burden to her till she consented
to abandon the absurd ideas she had taken up.”

But if Norbanus had returned with his family to Rome, Beric
had heard nothing of it. Had Pollio been at Rome he would at once
have taken him to see them on their return, but now that he had
gone there was no one from whom he would hear of their movements,
and Norbanus himself would be so much occupied with his new
duties, and with the society with which Lesbia would fill the
house, that he would have no time to inquire about the British
captive he had received as his guest at Massilia.

One evening, when the rest of the gladiators were engaged in a
hot discussion as to the merits of some of those who were to
appear at the games given in celebration of the funeral obsequies
of a wealthy senator, Beric asked Boduoc to accompany him for a
walk.

“One gets sick of all that talk about fighting,” he said as
they went out. “How men can sit indoors in a hot room heavy with
the smoke of the lamps, when they can go out on such a lovely
night as this, I cannot understand. We do not have such nights as
this at home, Boduoc.”

“No,” Boduoc assented reluctantly, for it was seldom that he
would allow anything Roman to be superior to what he was
accustomed to in Britain; “the nights are certainly fine here,
and so they need be when it is so hot all day that one can
scarcely breathe outside the house. It seems to me that the heat
takes all the strength out of my limbs.”

Beric laughed. “It did not seem so, Boduoc, when today you
threw Borthon, who is as heavy and well nigh as strong as
yourself, full five yards through the air. Let us turn out from
these busy streets and get among the hills–not those on which
the palaces stand, but away from houses and people.”

“What a night it would be for wolf hunting!” Boduoc said
suddenly, when they had walked along for some distance in
silence.

“Yes, that was fine sport, Boduoc; and when we slew we knew we
were ridding the land of fierce beasts.”

“Well, many of the gladiators are not much better, Beric.
There is Porus, who may be likened to a panther; there is
Chresimus, who is like a savage bull; Gripus, who, when not at
work, is for ever trying to stir up strife. Truly, I used to
think, Beric, that I could not slay a man unless he was an enemy,
but I scarce feel that now. The captives in war are like
ourselves, and I would not, if I could help it, lift sword
against them. But many of the men are malefactors, who have been
sentenced to death as gladiators rather than to death by the
executioner, and who, by the terms of the sentence, must be
killed within the course of a year. Well, there is no objection
to killing these; if you do not do it, someone else will. Then
there are the Romans, these are the roughest and most brutal of
all; they are men who have been the bullies of their quarters,
who fight for money only, and boast that it is a disappointment
to them when, by the vote of the spectators, they have to spare
an antagonist they have conquered. It is at least as good a work
to kill one of these men as to slay a wolf at home. Then there
are the patricians, who fight to gain popular applause, and kill
as a matter of fashion; for them I have assuredly no pity.

“No, I hope I shall never have to stand up against a captive
like myself but against all others I can draw my sword without
any of the scruples I used to feel. I hear that if one of us can
but hold his own for three years, in most cases he is given his
liberty. I do not mean that he would be allowed to go home, but
he is free from the arena.”

They were now near the summit of one of the hills, where a
clear sweep had been made of all the houses standing there in
order that a stately temple should be erected on the site.
Suddenly they heard a scream in a female voice.

“There is some villainy going on, Boduoc, let us break in upon
the game.” They ran at the top of their speed in the direction
from which they had heard the cry, and came upon a group of seven
or eight men, belonging, as they could see by the light of the
moon, to the dregs of the city. A female was lying on the ground,
another was clinging to her, and two men with coarse jeers and
laughter were dragging her from her hold when the two Britons ran
up.

Beric struck one of the men to the ground with a terrible
blow, while Boduoc seizing the other hurled him through the air,
and he fell head foremost among a heap of the masonry of a
demolished building. The other men drew their knives, but as
Beric and his companion turned upon them there was a cry, “They
are gladiators,” and the whole of them without a moment’s
hesitation took to their heels.

Beric then turned towards the females, and as the light of the
moon fell full on his face the one with whom the men had been
struggling exclaimed, “Why, it is surely Beric!”

Beric looked at her in surprise. “It is the lady Ennia!” he
exclaimed. “Why, what are you doing at this time of night in so
lonely a place, and without other attendants than this
woman?”

“It is my nurse,” Ennia said; “I was on my way with her,
Beric, to a secret meeting of Christians held in an underground
room of one of the villas that stood here. I have been there
several times before and we have not been molested, but, as I
gathered from what the men said, they noticed the light fall upon
my necklace and bracelet as I passed by a lamp, and so followed
us. Happily they overtook us before we reached the place of
meeting. Had they followed us farther they might have come upon
us there, and then much more harm would have been done. They came
up and roughly demanded who we were, and bade me hand over my
jewels. Lycoris answered them, and they struck her down. I threw
myself down on her and clung to her, but they would soon have
plundered and perhaps killed me had not you arrived.”

“Do not you think, Ennia, that it is foolish and wrong of you
thus to go out unprotected at night to such a place as this, and,
as I suppose, without the knowledge of your father and
mother?”

“They do not know,” she said, “but it is my duty to go. It is
the only opportunity I have for hearing the Word preached.”

“I cannot think, Ennia, that it is your duty,” Beric said
gravely. “The first duty of a young woman is to obey her parents,
and I think that you, being as yet scarce a woman, are not able
to judge between one religion and another. I know nothing of the
doctrines of this sect save what your father told me; but he said
that they were good and pure, and, being so, I am sure that they
cannot countenance disobedience to parents.”

“The words are ‘Forsake all, and follow Me,'” Ennia said
firmly.

“That could not have been said to one of your age, Ennia. I
was reading the Jewish sacred book the other day, and one of the
chief commandments is to honour your father and mother. Well, I
think, at any rate, that it were best not to go there tonight.
These men may return, and at any rate I will not allow you thus
to wander about at night unprotected. Boduoc and I will escort
you to your house. When you get there I trust that you will think
this over, and that you will see that such midnight excursions
are altogether wrong, whatever the motive may be; but at any
rate, if you must go, I must obtain your promise that you will
write to me at the school of Scopus the gladiator, to tell me at
what hour you start. I shall not intrude my presence upon you,
nor accompany you, for this would be to make myself an accomplice
in what I consider your folly; but I shall always be near you,
and if you are again disturbed on your way Boduoc and I will be
at hand to punish those who meddle with you.”

The old nurse by this time had regained her feet.

“You are the nurse of this young lady,” Beric said to her
sternly, “and should know better than to bring her into danger.
If Norbanus knew what you have done he would have you cut in
pieces.”

“It is not the fault of Lycoris. She begged and entreated me
not to come, but I would not listen to her. You are angry with
me, Beric, but you would not be angry if you knew what it was to
me. Younger than I have died for the Faith, and I would die too
if it were necessary.”

Beric made no reply, he was indeed deeply vexed at what he
considered an act of mad folly. The daughters of Norbanus had
been very friendly and kind to him at Massilia, and he felt a
debt of gratitude to their father; and this escapade on the part
of Ennia, who was as yet scarce sixteen, vexed him exceedingly.
He was not sure, indeed, but that he ought to go straight to
Norbanus and tell him what had happened, yet he feared that in
such a case the anger of the magistrate would be so great that
Ennia would be forced by him into becoming one of the vestal
virgins, or be shut up in strict imprisonment. Scarce a word was
spoken as they passed down the hill and into the streets, now
almost deserted. At last Ennia stopped at the entrance used by
the slaves to her father’s house.

“Will you give me your promise,” he asked, “about going out at
night again? I implore you, I beseech you do not again leave the
house of your father at night unknown to him. You cannot tell the
dangers you run by so doing, or the misery you may bring, not
only on yourself, but on your parents.”

“I promise you,” Ennia said. “I owe you so great a debt of
gratitude that even your harsh words do not anger me. I will
think over what you have said, and try to do what may seem to me
my duty.”

“That is all I ask,” Beric said more gently; and then turning
walked away with Boduoc, who had but faintly understood what was
being said, but was surprised at the recognition between Beric
and this girl, whom he had not particularly noticed when at
Massilia.

“That is Pollio’s cousin, the younger daughter of the
magistrate I stayed with at Massilia. It was well for her that it
was not Pollio who came to her rescue instead of us.”

“I should say so,” Boduoc said dryly. “Pollio would scarcely
be a match for eight cutthroats.”

“I did not mean that, Boduoc. I meant that he would have rated
her soundly.”

“It seemed to me that you were rating her somewhat soundly,
Beric. I scarce ever heard you speak so harshly before, and I
wondered the more as you are neither kith nor kin to her, while
by the heartiness with which you scolded her you might have been
her own brother.”

“I did not think whether I had a right to scold her or not,
Boduoc. I liked both the maiden and her sister, and their father
was very kind to me. Moreover, after all Pollio has done for us,
the least I could do was to look after his cousin. But even if I
had known nothing whatever of her or her friends, I should have
spoken just as I did. The idea of a young girl like that
wandering about at night with no one but an old slave to protect
her in an unfrequented quarter of Rome! It is unheard of.”

“But what were they doing there, Beric?”

“They were going to a meeting place of a new religion there is
in Rome. The people who belong to it are persecuted and obliged
to meet in secret. The old woman belongs to it, and has, I
suppose, taught Ennia. I have heard that the sect is spreading,
and that although most of those who adhere to it are slaves, or
belong to the poorer class, there are many of good family who
have also joined it.”

“Well, I should have thought,” Boduoc said, “that the Romans
had no cause to be dissatisfied with their gods. They have given
them victory, and dominion, and power, and wealth. What more
could they want of them? I could understand that we, whose god
did nothing to assist us in our fight against the Romans, should
seek other gods who might do more for us. But that a Roman should
have been discontented with his gods is more than I can
understand. But what is that sudden flash of light?”

“It is a fire, and in these narrow streets, with a brisk wind
blowing, it may well spread. There, do you hear the watchmen’s
trumpets giving the alarm? Let us get back quickly, Boduoc. It
may be that we shall be all turned out to fight the fire if it
spreads.”

They were not far from the school now, and a few minutes’ run
took them there. The house was quiet, but a few oil lamps burning
here and there enabled them to make their way to the broad
planks, arranged like a modern guard bed, on which they slept
with their three comrades.

“Is that you, Beric?” Scopus, who slept in a cubicule leading
off the great room, asked.

“Yes it is; Boduoc and I.”

“You are very late,” he growled. “Late hours are bad for the
health. Are you sober?”

Beric laughed.

“No, I need not ask you,” Scopus went on. “If it had been some
of the others who had been out so late, I should have been sure
they would have come home as drunk as hogs; but that is not your
way.”

“There is a fire not very far off, Scopus, and the wind is
blowing strongly.”

Scopus was at once on his feet and came out into the room. “I
don’t like fires,” he said uneasily. “Let us go up on the roof
and see what it is like.”

Short as the time had been since Beric first saw the flash of
light the fire had already spread, and a broad sheet of flame was
shooting up into the air. “It is down there in the most crowded
quarter, and the wind is blowing strongly. It is likely to be a
big fire. Listen to the din.”

A chorus of shouts, the shrieks of women, and the tramp of
many feet running, mingled with the sounding of the watchmen’s
horns.

“The soldiers will soon be there to keep order,” Scopus said.
“As every household is obliged to keep a bucket in readiness, and
there is an abundance of water; they will cope with it. At any
rate the wind is not blowing in this direction. It is half a mile
away fully.”

“Can we go down and see if we can be of any assistance?” Beric
asked. “We might help in removing goods from the houses, and in
carrying off the aged and sick.”

“You can if you like, Beric. I would not say as much for those
who are training hard, for the loss of a night’s rest is serious;
but as it will be some months before you Britons are ready for
the arena, it will do you no harm.”

Beric went below, aroused his countrymen, and went with them
and Boduoc. The streets were alive. Men were running in the
direction of the fire carrying buckets; women were standing at
the doors inquiring of the passersby if they knew what street was
on fire, and whether it was likely to spread. The sound of
military trumpets calling the soldiers to arms rose in various
parts of the city, and mingled with the hoarse sound of the
watchmen’s horns. As they approached the fire the crowd became
thicker.

Beric admired the coolness shown and the order that already
reigned. The prefect of the 7th Cohort of the Night Guard, always
on duty to guard the streets from thieves or fire, was already on
the spot, and under his directions, and those of several inferior
officials, the men, as fast as they arrived, were set to pass
buckets along from the fountains and conduits.

“Who are you?” the magistrate asked, as the five tall figures
came up the street in the light of the fire.

“We belong to the school of Scopus,” Beric said. “We have come
down to see if we can be of assistance. We are strong, and can
move goods from houses threatened, or carry off the sick should
there be any; or we can throw water on the flames.”

“The soldiers will do that,” the magistrate said, “that is
their business; but, as you say, you may be of use in helping
clear the houses outside their lines. The flames are spreading.
Come with me, I will take you to the centurion commanding a
company of the Night Guard here, for if he saw you coming out of
the house with goods he might take you for plunderers.”

The centurion, who was hard at work with his men, nodded an
assent.

“It were well to get some more stout fellows like these,” he
said to the magistrate. “In spite of our efforts the fire is
making headway, and the sooner the houses in its path are
stripped the better.”

A strong body of volunteers for the work was soon organized,
and an official placed in charge of it. All night they worked
without intermission, Beric and his comrades keeping together and
astonishing those who were working with them by the strength and
activity they displayed. But fast as they worked the flames
advanced faster. They were half suffocated by smoke, and the
sparks fell thickly round them. The workers carried the goods out
of the houses into the street, where other parties conveyed them
to open spaces. Lines of men down all the streets leading to the
scene of the fire passed along buckets of water. These the
soldiers carried up on to the roofs, which they deluged, while
others wetted the hangings and furniture that had not been
removed.

Parties of troops strove to pull down the houses in the path
of the flames, while others again marched up and down preserving
order. The Night Guard entered the houses, compelled all to
leave, and saw that none were left behind; while sentries kept
guard over the goods piled high in the open spaces. When morning
broke, Beric gave up the work to a fresh party and returned with
his companions to the school. They found it deserted, save by the
slaves, the others having, as they learned, gone to the fire an
hour before with Scopus.

“We will have a bath to get rid of the dust and sweat,” Beric
said. “But first we will go up to the roof and have a look at the
fire. We had no time when we were working to think much of it;
but as we were always being driven back by it, it must have
spread a good deal.”

An exclamation of surprise broke from them when they gained
the roof. Smoke and flames were rising over a large area. A dense
canopy overhung the town, a confused din filled the air, while
momentarily deep heavy sounds told of falling roofs and
walls.

“This is terrible, Boduoc.”

“Why terrible, Beric? For my part I should like to see Rome
utterly destroyed, as she has destroyed so many other towns.”

“The Romans would build it up again more magnificent than
before, Boduoc. No, it would be a misfortune to the world if Rome
were destroyed; but there is little chance of that. They have had
many fires before now; this is a large one certainly, but by this
time all the troops in the city must be there, and if the wind
drops they will soon arrest the progress of the flames.”

The other Britons quite agreed with Boduoc, and though ready
to work their hardest to aid in saving the property of
individuals, they looked on with undisguised satisfaction at the
great conflagration. On such a point as this Beric knew that it
would be useless to argue with them.

“You had better come down from the roof, Boduoc. There are
others watching the fire besides ourselves; and if it were
reported that some of the gladiators from the school were seen
making exulting gestures, there would be a popular tumult, and it
is likely as not we should be charged with being the authors of
the fire. Let us go down, get some food, and then have a bath and
sleep for a while. There is little chance of the fire being
checked at present. At any rate, we have done our share of
work.”

After a few hours’ sleep Beric again went up to the roof. The
fire had made great progress, and, as he could see, was not only
travelling with the wind, but working up against it. It was
already much nearer to the school than it had been. As to the
width of the area of the conflagration the smoke prevented him
from forming any opinion; but he judged that the length was fully
a mile. It was evident that the progress of the fire was causing
great dismay. Groups were gathered on the housetops everywhere,
while the streets were crowded with fugitives laden with
household goods, making their way towards the thinly populated
portions of the hills. After eating some bread and fruit, Beric
again sallied out with his four companions. On their way down
they met Scopus with several of the gladiators returning.

“What is being done, Scopus?”

“As far as stopping the fire nothing is being done. It has
been given up. What can be done when the fire is sweeping along a
mile broad, and the heat is so great that there is no standing
within a hundred yards of it? All the soldiers are there, and the
magistrates and the guards, and all the rest of them, but all
that can be done is to prevent the scum of the city from sacking
and plundering. Scores of men have been scourged and some
beheaded, but it is no easy matter to keep down the mob. There
are parties of guards in every street. The whole of the
Praetorians are under arms, but the terror and confusion is so
great and spread over so wide a space that it is well nigh
impossible to preserve order. Proclamations have just been issued
by the senate calling upon all citizens to gather at their places
of assembly in arms, enjoining them to preserve order, and
authorizing the slaying of all robbers caught in the act of
plundering. All persons within a certain distance of the fire are
recommended to send their wives and families, with their jewels
and all portable wealth, to the public gardens, where strong
guards of the Praetorians will be posted.”

“It seems to me that the fire is advancing in this direction,
also, Scopus.”

“It is spreading everywhere,” Scopus said gloomily. “The heat
seems to draw the air in from all directions, and the flames
surge sometimes one way and sometimes another. You had better not
go far away, Beric; if the flames crawl up much nearer we shall
have to prepare for a move. We have no jewels to lose, nor is the
furniture of much value, but the arms and armour, our apparatus,
clothes, and other things must be carried off.”

The scene as Beric went forward was pitiful in the extreme.
Weeping women carrying heavy burdens and with their children
clinging to their dress came along. Some searched up and down
frantically for members of the family who had been lost in the
crowd. Old men and women were being helped along by their
relations. The sick were being borne past upon doors or the tops
of tables.

Among the fugitives were groups of men from the poorest
districts by the river, who were only restrained from snatching
at the ornaments and caskets of the women by the presence of the
soldiers, standing at short intervals along the street and at the
doors of the principal houses. In spite of the vigilance of the
guard, however, such thefts occasionally took place, and the
screams that from time to time rose in the side streets told of
the work of plunder going on there.

“I should like to turn down here and give a lesson to some of
these villains,” Boduoc said.

“I should like nothing better, Boduoc, but it would not do to
get into a fray at present. It would only bring up the guard, and
they would not be likely to ask many questions as to who was in
fault, but would probably assume at once that we, being
gladiators, were there for the purpose of robbery, and that the
row had arisen over the division of spoil. Look, there is a
centurion taking a party of men down the street where we heard
those screams. Let us move back a few paces and see what is going
to happen. Yes, there is another party of soldiers coming in at
the other end. The women are running out of the houses to tell
their grievances.”

Small parties of soldiers entered the houses. Shouts and yells
could be heard even above the surrounding din. Men jumped from
windows or ran out into the street only to be cut down by the
troops there, and so each body of soldiers continued to advance
until they met in the centre of the street, and then, after a few
words between the officers, each party returned by the way it had
come. They had done their work, and the street had been
completely cleared of the plunderers.

“You see, Boduoc, had we run down there when we heard the
cries it would have gone hard with us. The troops certainly spent
no time in questioning; the women might have told them, perhaps,
that we had come to their assistance; still it is just as well
that we keep clear of the matter.”

Beric’s party skirted along the fire for some distance. At
some points to windward of the flames efforts were still being
made to prevent their spread, large numbers of men being employed
in pulling down houses under the supervision of the fire guard.
Bodies of troops guarded the entrances to all the streets, and
kept back the crowd of sightseers, who had assembled from all
parts of the city. Fearing that they might be impressed for the
work of demolition, the Britons returned to the school. The
familia, as the members of any school of this kind were called,
were all assembled. Scopus was walking moodily up and down the
gymnasium, but it was evident by the countenances of most of the
men that they felt a deep satisfaction at the misfortune that had
befallen Rome. From time to time Scopus ascended to the roof, or
sent one of the men out to gather news, but it was always to the
same effect, the fire was still spreading, and assuming every
hour more serious proportions. Towards evening the flames had
approached so closely, that Scopus gave orders for the men to
take up the bundles that had already been made up, containing
everything of any value in the school.

“You had better not wait any longer,” he said; “at any moment
there may be orders for all schools to go down to help the
troops, and then we should lose everything.”

Accordingly the heavy packets were lifted by the men on to
their heads or shoulders, and they started for the Palatine,
which was the nearest hill. Here were many of the houses of the
wealthy, and the owners of most of these had already thrown open
their gardens for the use of the fugitives. In one of these the
gladiators deposited their goods. Two of the party having been
left to guard them the rest went out to view the fire.

There was little sleep in Rome that night. It was now evident
to all that this was no local conflagration, but that, if the
wind continued to blow, it threatened the entire destruction of a
considerable portion of the town. Every space and vantage ground
from which a view of the fire could be obtained was crowded with
spectators.

“There were great fires when we destroyed Camalodunum,
Verulamium, and London,” Boduoc said, “but this is already larger
than any of those, and it is ever spreading; even at this
distance we can hear the roar of the flames, the crash of the
falling houses, and the shouts of the workers.”

“It is a terrible sight, indeed, Boduoc. It looks like a sea
of fire. So far the part involved is one of the oldest and
poorest in the city, but if it goes on like this the better
quarters will soon be threatened. If we get no special orders
tomorrow, we will go down to the house of Norbanus and give what
help we can in the removal of his goods. His library is a very
valuable one, and its loss would be a terrible blow to him. I
remember that at Camalodunum there was nothing I regretted so
much as the destruction of the books.”

“It is all a matter of taste,” Boduoc said. “I would rather
have a good suit of armour and arms than all the books in Rome.
Why some people should worry their brains to make those little
black marks on paper, and others should trouble to make out what
they mean, is more than I can understand. However, we shall be
glad to help you to carry off the goods of Norbanus.”

CHAPTER XIV: ROME IN FLAMES

All night the gladiators watched the ever widening area of
fire. In the morning proclamations were found posted in every
street, ordering all citizens to be under arms, as if expecting
the attack of an enemy; each district was to be patrolled
regularly, and all evildoers found attempting to plunder were to
be instantly put to death, the laws being suspended in face of
the common danger. All persons not enrolled in the lists of the
city guards were exhorted to lend their aid in transporting goods
from the neighbourhood of the fire to a place of safety in the
public gardens, and the masters of the schools of gladiators were
enjoined to see that their scholars gave their aid in this
work.

“Well, we may as well set to work,” Scopus said. “There are
some of my patrons to whom we may do a good service.”

“Will you let me go with my comrades first to aid Norbanus, a
magistrate who has done me service?” Beric said. “After I have
helped to move his things I will join you wherever you may
appoint.”

Scopus nodded. “Very well, Beric. I shall go first to the
house of Gallus the praetor, he is one of my best friends. After
we are done there we will go to the aid of Lysimachus the
senator; so, if you don’t find us at the house of Gallus, you
will find us there.”

Beric at once started with the four Britons to the house where
he had left Ennia. It was distant but half a mile from the point
the fire had now reached, and from many of the houses round the
slaves were already bearing goods. Here, however, all was quiet.
The door keeper, knowing Beric, permitted him and his companions
to enter without question. Norbanus was already in his study. He
looked up as Beric approached him. “Why, it is Beric!” he said in
surprise. “I heard that you were in one of the ludi and was
coming to see you, but I have been full of business since I came
here. I am glad that you have come to visit me.”

“It is not a visit of ceremony,” Beric said; “it is the fire
that has brought me here.”

“Lesbia tells me that it is still blazing,” Norbanus said
indifferently. “She has been worrying about it all night. I tell
her I am not praetor of the fire guard, and that it does not come
within my scope of duty. I went down yesterday afternoon, but the
soldiers and citizens are all doing their work under their
officers, and doubtless it will soon be extinguished.”

“It is ever growing, Norbanus. It is within half a mile of
your house now, and travelling fast.”

“Why, it was treble that distance last night,” Norbanus said
in surprise. “Think you that there is really danger of its coming
this way?”

“Unless a change takes place,” Beric said, “it will assuredly
be here by noon; even now sparks and burning flakes are falling
in the street. The neighbours are already moving, and I would
urge you to lose not a moment’s time, but summon your slaves,
choose all your most valuable goods, and have them carried up to
a place of safety. If you come up to the roof you will see for
yourself how pressing is the danger.”

Norbanus, still incredulous, ascended the stairs, but directly
he looked round he saw that Beric had not exaggerated the state
of things.

“I have brought four of my tribesmen with me,” Beric said,
“and we are all capable of carrying good loads. There ought to be
time to make three journeys at least up to the gardens on the
hill, where they will be safe. I should say, let half your slaves
aid us in carrying up your library and the valuables that come at
once to hand, and then you can direct the others to pack up the
goods you prize most so that they shall be ready by our
return.”

“That shall be done,” Norbanus said, “and I am thankful to
you, Beric, for your aid.”

Descending, Norbanus at once gave the orders, and then going
up to the women’s apartments told Lesbia to bid the female slaves
pack at once all the dresses, ornaments, and valuables. The cases
containing the books were then brought out into the atrium, and
there stacked in five piles. They were then bound together with
sacking and cords.

“But what are you going to do with these great piles?”
Norbanus said as he came down from above, where Lesbia was raging
at the news that much of their belongings would have to be
abandoned. “Why, each of them is a wagon load.”

“They are large to look at, but not heavy. At any rate we can
carry them. Is there anyone to whom we shall specially take them,
or shall we place a guard over them?”

“My cousin Lucius, the senator, will, I am sure, take them for
me. His house is surrounded by gardens, and quite beyond reach of
fire. His wife is Lesbia’s sister, and Aemilia shall go up with
you.”

The Britons helped each other up with the huge packets, four
slaves with difficulty raising the last and placing it on Beric’s
head.

“The weight is nothing now it is up,” he said, “though I wish
it were a solid packet instead of being composed of so many of
these book boxes.”

The cases in which the Romans usually kept their books were
about the size and shape of hat boxes, but of far stronger make,
and each holding from six to ten rolls of vellum. A dozen slaves
under the superintendence of the steward, and carrying valuable
articles of furniture, followed the Britons, and behind them came
Aemilia, with four or five female slaves carrying on their heads
great packages of the ladies’ clothing. The house of Lucius was
but half a mile away from that of Norbanus. Even among the crowd
of frightened men and women hurrying up the hill the sight of the
five Britons, with their prodigious burdens created lively
astonishment and admiration.

“Twenty such men as those,” one said, “would carry off a
senator’s villa bodily, if there was room for it in the
road.”

“They are the Titans come to life again,” another remarked.
“It would take six Romans to carry the weight that one of them
bears.”

When they neared the villa of Lucius, Aemilia hurried on ahead
with the female slaves, and was standing at the door with the
senator when the Britons approached. The senator uttered an
exclamation of astonishment.

“Whence have you got these wonderful porters, Aemilia?”

“I know not,” the girl said. “We were dressing, when our
father called out that we were to hurry and to put our best
garments together, for that we were to depart instantly, as the
fire was approaching. For a few minutes there was terrible
confusion. The slaves were packing up our things, all talking
together, and in an extreme terror. Our mother was terribly
upset, and I think she made things worse by giving fresh orders
every minute. In the middle of it my father shouted to me to come
down at once, and the slaves were to bring down such things as
were ready. When I got down I was astonished at seeing these
great men quite hidden under the burdens they carried, but I had
no time to ask questions. My father said, ‘Go with them to my
cousin Lucius, and ask him to take in our goods,’ and I
came.”

By this time the party had reached the house.

“Follow me,” Lucius said, leading the way along the front of
the house, and round to the storehouses in its rear. Aemilia
accompanied him. The slaves deposited their burdens on the
ground, and then aided the Britons to lower theirs. Aemilia gave
an exclamation of astonishment as Beric turned round.

“Why, it is Beric the Briton!” she exclaimed.

“You did not recognize me, then?” Beric said smiling.

“I should have done so had I looked at you closely,” she said,
“in spite of your Roman garb; but what with the crowd, and the
smoke, and the fright, I did not think anything about it after my
first wonder at seeing you so loaded. Where did you come from so
suddenly to our aid? Are these your countrymen? Ennia and I have
asked our father almost every day since we came to Rome to go and
find you, and bring you to us. He always said he would, but what
with his business and his books he was never able to. How good of
you to come to our aid! I am sure the books would never have been
saved if it had not been for you, and father would never have got
over their loss.”

“I knew where your house was,” Beric said, “and was glad to be
able to do something in gratitude for your father’s kindness at
Massilia. But I must not lose a moment talking; I hope to make
two or three more trips before the fire reaches your house. Your
slaves have orders to return with us. Will you tell your steward
to guide us back by a less frequented road than that we came by,
and then we can keep together and shall not lose time forcing our
way through the crowd.”

By the time they reached the house of Norbanus the slaves left
behind had packed up everything of value.

“I will go up,” Norbanus said, “with all the slaves, male and
female, if you will remain here to guard the rest of the things
till we return. Several parties of ill favoured looking men have
entered by the door, evidently in the hopes of plunder, but left
when they saw we were still here. The ladies’ apartments have
been completely stripped, and their belongings will go up this
time, so that there will be no occasion for them to return. If
the flames approach too closely before we come back, do not stay,
Beric, nor trouble about the goods that remain. I have saved my
library and my own manuscripts, which is all I care for. My wife
and daughters have saved all their dresses and jewels. All the
most valuable of my goods will now be carried up by my slaves,
and if the rest is lost it will be no great matter.”

Beric and his companions seated themselves on the carved
benches of the atrium and waited quietly. Parties of marauders
once or twice entered, for the area of the fire was now so vast
that even the troops and armed citizens were unable properly to
guard the whole neighbourhood beyond its limits; but upon seeing
these five formidable figures they hastily retired, to look for
booty where it could be obtained at less risk.

The fire was but a few hundred yards away, and clouds of
sparks and blazing fragments were falling round the house when
Norbanus and his slaves returned. These were sufficient to carry
up the remaining parcels of goods without assistance from the
Britons, who, however, acted as an escort to them on their way
back. Their throats were dry and parched by the hot air, and they
were glad of a long draught of the good wine that Lucius had in
readiness for their arrival. Beric at first refused other
refreshment, being anxious to hasten away to join Scopus, but the
senator insisted upon their sitting down to a meal.

“You do not know when you may eat another,” he said; “there
will be little food cooked in this part of Rome today.”

As Beric saw it was indeed improbable that they would obtain
other food if they neglected this opportunity, he and the others
sat down and ate a good, though hasty, meal.

“You will come and see us directly the fire is over,” Norbanus
said as they rose to leave. “Remember, I shall not know where to
find you, and I have had no time to thank you worthily for the
service that you have rendered me. Many of the volumes you have
saved were unique, and although my own manuscripts may be of
little value to the world, they represent the labour of many
years.”

Hurrying down to the rendezvous Scopus had given him, Beric
found that both villas had already been swept away by the fire.
He then went up to the spot where their goods were deposited, but
the two gladiators in charge said that they had seen nothing
whatever of Scopus.

“Then we will go down and do what we can,” Beric said. “Should
Scopus return, tell him that we will be here at nightfall.”

For another two days the conflagration raged, spreading wider
and wider, and when at last the wind dropped and the fury of the
flames abated, more than the half of Rome lay in ashes. Of the
fourteen districts of the city three were absolutely destroyed,
and in seven others scarce a house had escaped. Nero, who had
been absent, reached Rome on the third day of the fire. The
accusation that he had caused it to be lighted, brought against
him by his enemies years afterwards, was absurd. There had been
occasional fires in Rome for centuries, just as there had been in
London before the one that destroyed it, and the strong wind that
was blowing was responsible for the magnitude of the fire.

There can, however, be little doubt that the misfortune which
appeared so terrible to the citizens was regarded by Nero in a
different light. Nero was prouder of being an artist than of
being an emperor. Up to this time Rome, although embellished with
innumerable temples and palaces, was yet the Rome of the
Tarquins. The streets were narrow, and the houses huddled
together. Mean cottages stood next to palaces. There was an
absence of anything like a general plan. Rome had spread as its
population had increased, but it was a collection of houses
rather than a capital city.

Nero saw at once how vast was the opportunity. In place of the
rambling tortuous streets and crowded rookeries, a city should
rise stately, regular, and well ordered, with broad streets and
noble thoroughfares, while in its midst should be a palace
unequalled in the world, surrounded by gardens, lakes, and parks.
There was ample room on the seven hills, and across the Tiber,
for all the population, with breathing space for everyone. What
glory would there not be to him who thus transformed Rome, and
made it a worthy capital of the world! First, however, the people
must be attended to and kept in good humour, and accordingly
orders were at once issued that the gardens of the emperor’s
palaces should be thrown open, and the fugitives allowed to
encamp there. Such magazines as had escaped the fire were thrown
open, and food distributed to all, while ships were sent at once
to Sicily and Sardinia for large supplies of grain for the
multitude.

While the ruins were still smoking the emperor was engaged
with the best architects in Rome in drawing out plans for laying
out the new city on a superb scale, and in making preparations
for the commencement of work. The claims of owners of ground were
at once wiped out by an edict saying, that for the public
advantage it was necessary that the whole of the ground should be
treated as public property, but that on claims being sent in
other sites would be given elsewhere. Summonses were sent to
every town and district of the countries under the Roman sway
calling for contributions towards the rebuilding of the capital.
So heavy was the drain, and so continuous the exactions to raise
the enormous sums required to pay for the rebuilding of the city
and the superb palaces for the emperor, that the wealth of the
known world scarce sufficed for it, and the Roman Empire was for
many years impoverished by the tremendous drain upon its
resources.

The great mass of the Roman population benefited by the fire.
There was work for everyone, from the roughest labourer to the
most skilled artisan and artist. Crowds of workmen were brought
from all parts. Greece sent her most skilful architects and
decorators, her sculptors and painters. Money was abundant, and
Rome rose again from her ruins with a rapidity which was
astonishing.

The people were housed far better than they had ever been
before; the rich had now space and convenience for the
construction of their houses, and although most of them had lost
the greater portion of their valuables in the fire, they were yet
gainers by it. All shared in the pride excited by the new city,
with its broad streets and magnificent buildings, and the groans
of the provincials, at whose cost it was raised, troubled them
not at all. It was true that Nero, in his need for money, seized
many of the wealthier citizens, and, upon one pretext or other,
put them to death and confiscated their property; but this
mattered little to the crowd, and disturbed none save those whose
wealth exposed them to the risk of the same fate.

Beric saw nothing of these things, for upon the very day after
the fire died out Scopus started with his scholars to a villa on
the Alban Hills that had been placed at his disposal by one of
his patrons. There were several other schools in the
neighbourhood, as the air of the hills was considered to be far
healthier and more strengthening than that of Rome. In spite of
the public calamity Nero continued to give games for the
amusement of the populace, other rich men followed his example,
and the sports of the amphitheatre were carried on on an even
more extensive scale than before.

Scopus took six of his best pupils to the first games that
were given after the fire. Four of them returned victorious, two
were sorely wounded and defeated. Their lives had, however, been
spared, partly on account of their skill and bravery, partly
because the emperor was in an excellent humour, and the mass of
the spectators, on whom the decision of life or death rested, saw
that the signal for mercy would be acceptable to him.

The Britons greatly preferred their life on the Alban Hills to
that in Rome; for, their exercises done, they could wander about
without being stared at and commented upon.

The pure air of the hills was invigorating after that of the
great city; and here, too, they met ten of their comrades whose
ludi had been all along established on the hills. Plans of escape
were sometimes talked over, but though they could not resist the
pleasure of discussing them, they all knew that it was hopeless.
Though altogether unwatched and free to do as they liked after
the work of the day was over, they were as much prisoners as if
immured in the strongest dungeons. The arm of Rome stretched
everywhere; they would be at once followed and hunted down
wherever they went. Their height and complexion rendered disguise
impossible, and even if they reached the mountains of Calabria,
or traversed the length of Italy successfully and reached the
Alps–an almost hopeless prospect–they would find none to
give them shelter, and would ere long be hunted down. At times
they talked of making their way to a seaport, seizing a small
craft, and setting sail in her; but none of them knew aught of
navigation, and the task of traversing the Mediterranean, passing
through the Pillars of Hercules, and navigating the stormy seas
beyond until they reached Britain, would have been impossible for
them.

News came daily from the city, and they heard that Nero had
accused the new sect of being the authors of the conflagration,
that the most rigid edicts had been issued against them, and that
all who refused to abjure their religion were to be sent to the
wild beasts in the arena.

Beric had not seen Norbanus since the day when he had saved
his library from the fire; but a few days after they had
established themselves in the hills he received a letter from him
saying that he had, after much inquiry, learned where Scopus had
established his ludus; he greatly regretted Beric had left Rome
without his seeing him, and hoped he would call as soon as he
returned. His family was already established in a house near that
of Lucius. After that Beric occasionally received letters from
Aemilia, who wrote sometimes in her father’s name and sometimes
in her own. She gave him the gossip of Rome, described the
wonderful work that was being done, and sent him letters from
Pollio to read.

One day a letter, instead of coming by the ordinary post, was
brought by one of the household slaves.

“We are all in terrible distress, Beric,” she said. “I have
told you about the severe persecution that has set in of the
Christians. A terrible thing has happened. You know that our old
nurse belonged to that sect. She often talked to me about it, but
it did not seem to me that what she said could be true; I knew
that Ennia, who is graver in her disposition than I am, thought
much of it, but I did not think for a moment that she had joined
the sect. Two nights ago some spies reported to one of the
praetors that some persons, believed to be Christians, were in
the habit of assembling one or two nights a week at a lonely
house belonging to a freedman. A guard was set and the house
surrounded, and fifty people were found there. Some of them were
slaves, some freedmen, some of them belonged to noble families,
and among them was Ennia.

“She had gone accompanied by that wretched old woman. All who
had been questioned boldly avowed themselves to be Christians,
and they were taken down and thrown into prison. Imagine our
alarm in the morning when we found that Ennia was missing from
the house, and our terrible grief when, an hour later, a
messenger came from the governor of the prison to say that Ennia
was in his charge. My father is quite broken down by the blow. He
does not seem to care about Ennia having joined the new sect–you
know it is his opinion that everyone should choose their own
religion–but he is chiefly grieved at the thought that she
should have gone out at night attended only by her nurse, and
that she should have done this secretly and without his
knowledge. My mother, on the other hand, is most of all shocked
that Ennia should have given up the gods of Rome for a religion
of slaves, and that, being the daughter of a noble house, she
should have consorted with people beneath her.

“I don’t think much of any of these things. Ennia may have
done wrong, but that is nothing to me. I only think of her as in
terrible danger of her life, for they say that Nero will spare
none of the Christians, whether of high or low degree. My father
has gone out this morning to see the heads of our family and of
those allied to us by kinship, to try to get them to use all
their influence to obtain Ennia’s pardon. My mother does nothing
but bemoan herself on the disgrace that has fallen upon us. I am
beside myself with grief, and so, as I can do nothing else, I
write to tell you of the trouble that has befallen us. I will
write often and tell you the news.”

Beric’s first emotion was that of anger that Ennia should,
after the promise she had given him, have again gone alone to the
Christian gathering. Then he reflected that as he was away from
Rome, she was, of course, unable to keep that promise. He had not
seen her since that night, for she had passed straight through
the atrium with her mother while he was assisting the slaves to
take up their burdens.

He could not help feeling an admiration for her steadfastness
in this new Faith that she had taken up. By the side of her
livelier sister he had regarded her as a quiet and retiring girl,
and was sure that to her these midnight outings by stealth must
have been very terrible, and that only from the very strongest
sense of duty would she have undertaken them. Now her open avowal
of Christianity, when she must have known what were the penalties
that the confession entailed, seemed to him heroic.

“It must be a strange religion that could thus influence a
timid girl,” he said to himself. “My mother killed herself
because she would not survive the disaster that had fallen upon
her people and her gods; but her death was deemed by all Britons
to be honourable. Besides, my mother was a Briton, strong and
firm, and capable of heroic actions. This child is courting a
death that all who belong to her will deem most dishonourable.
There is nothing of the heroine in her disposition; it can only
be her Faith in her religion that sustains her. As soon as I
return to Rome I will inquire more into it.”

It was now ten months since Beric had entered the school of
Scopus. He was nearly twenty years old, and his constant and
severe exercises had broadened him and brought him to well nigh
his full strength. Scopus regarded him with pride, for in all the
various exercises of the arena he was already ahead of the other
gladiators. His activity was as remarkable as his strength, and
he was equally formidable with the trident and net as with sword
and buckler; while in wrestling and with the caestus none of the
others could stand up against him. He had been carefully
instructed in the most terrible contest of all, that against wild
beasts, for Scopus deemed that, being a captive of rank and
importance, he might be selected for such a display.

A Libyan, who had often hunted the lion in its native wilds,
had described to him over and over again the nature of the
animal’s attack, and the spring with which it hurls itself upon
its opponent, and Scopus having obtained a skin of one of the
animals killed in the arena, the Libyan had stuffed it with
outstretched paws; and Scopus obtained a balista, by which it was
hurled through the air as if in the act of springing. Against
this Beric frequently practised.

“You must remember,” the Libyan said, “that the lion is like a
great cat, and as it springs it strikes, so that you must avoid
not only its direct spring, but its paws stretched to their full
extent as it passes you in the air. You must be as quick as the
animal itself, and must not swerve till it is in the air. Then
you must leap aside like lightning, and, turning as you leap, be
ready to drive your spear through it as it touches the ground.
The inert mass, although it may pass through the air as rapidly
as the wild beast, but poorly represents the force and fierceness
of the lion’s spring. We Libyans meet the charge standing closely
together, with our spears in advance for it to spring on, and
even then it is rarely we kill it without one or two being struck
down before it dies. Bulls are thought by some to be more
formidable than lions; but as you are quick, you can easily evade
their rush. The bears are ugly customers. They seem slow and
clumsy, but they are not so, and they are very hard to kill. One
blow from their forepaws will strip off the flesh as readily as
the blow of a tiger. They will snap a spear shaft as easily as if
it were a reed. They are all ugly beasts to fight, and more than
a fair match for a single man. Better by far fight the most
skilled gladiator in the ring than have anything to do with these
creatures. Yet it is well to know how to meet them, so that if
ill fortune places you in front of them, you may know how to do
your best.”

Accounts came almost daily to the hills of the scenes in the
arena, and the Romans, accustomed though they were to the
fortitude with which the gladiators met the death stroke, were
yet astonished at the undaunted bearing of the Christians–old
men and girls, slaves and men of noble family, calmly facing
death, and even seeming to rejoice in it.

One evening a slave brought a note from Aemilia to Beric. It
contained but a few words:

“Our efforts are vain; Ennia is condemned, and will be handed
to the lions tomorrow in the arena. We have received orders to be
present, as a punishment for not having kept a closer watch over
her. I think I shall die.”

Beric went to Scopus at once.

“You advised me several times to go to the arena, Scopus, in
order to learn something from the conflicts. I want to be present
tomorrow. Porus and Lupus are both to fight.”

“I am going myself, Beric, and will take you with me. I shall
start two hours before daybreak, so as to be there in good time.
As their lanista I shall enter the arena with them. I cannot take
you there, but I know all the attendants, and can arrange for you
to be down at the level of the arena. It may not be long before
you have to play your part there, and I should like you to get
accustomed to the scene, the wall of faces and the roar of
applause, for these things are apt to shake the nerves of one
unaccustomed to them.”

Beric smiled. “After meeting the Romans twenty times in
battle, Scopus, the noise of a crowd would no more affect me than
the roar of the wind over the treetops. Still I want to see it;
and more, I want to see how the people of this new sect face
death. British women do not fear to die, and often slay
themselves rather than fall into the hands of the Romans, knowing
well that they will go straight to the Happy Island and have no
more trouble. Are these Christians as brave?”

Scopus shrugged his shoulders. “Yes, they die bravely enough.
But who fears death? Among all the peoples Rome has conquered
where has she met with cowards? Everywhere the women are found
ready to fall by their husbands’ swords rather than become
captives; to leap from precipices, or cast themselves into
blazing pyres. Is man anywhere lower than the wild beast, who
will face his assailants till the last? I have seen men of every
tribe and people fight in the arena. If conquered, they raise
their hand in order to live to conquer another day; but not once,
when the thumbs have been turned down, have I seen one flinch
from the fatal stroke.”

“That is true enough,” Beric said; “but methinks it is one
thing to court death in the hour of defeat, when all your friends
have fallen round you, and all hope is lost, and quite another to
stand alone and friendless with the eyes of a multitude fixed on
you. Still I would see it.”

The next day Beric stood beside Scopus among a group of guards
and attendants of the arena at one of the doors leading from it.
Above, every seat of the vast circle was crowded with spectators.
In the centre of the lower tier sat the emperor; near him were
the members of his council and court. The lower tiers round the
arena were filled by the senators and equities, with their wives
and daughters. Above these were the seats of officials and others
having a right to special seats, and then came, tier above tier
to the uppermost seats, the vast concourse of people. When the
great door of the arena opened a procession entered, headed by
Cneius Spado, the senator at whose expense the games were given.
Then, two and two, marched the gladiators who were to take part
in it, accompanied by their lanistae or teachers. Scopus, after
seeing Beric well placed, had left him to accompany Porus and
Lupus.

The gladiators were variously armed. There were the
hoplomachi, who fought in complete suits of armour; the
laqueatores, who used a noose to catch their adversaries; the
retiarii, with their net and trident, and wearing neither armour
nor helmet; the mirmillones, armed like the Gauls; the Samni,
with oblong shields; and the Thracians, with round ones. With the
exception of the retiarii all wore helmets, and their right arms
were covered with armour, the left being protected by the shield.
The gladiators saluted the emperor and people, and the procession
then left the arena, the first two matched against each other
again entering, each accompanied by his lanista. Both the
gladiators were novices, the men who had frequently fought and
conquered being reserved for the later contests, as the
excitement of the audience became roused. One of the combatants
was armed as a Gaul, the other as a Thracian.

The combat was not a long one. The men fought for a short time
cautiously, and then closing exchanged fierce and rapid blows
until one fell mortally wounded. A murmur of discontent rose from
the spectators, there had not been a sufficient exhibition of
skill to satisfy them. Eight or ten pairs of gladiators fought
one after the other, the excitement of the audience rising with
each conflict, as men of noted skill now contended. The victors
were hailed with shouts of applause, and the vanquished were
spared, a proof that the spectators were in a good temper and
satisfied with the entertainment. Beric looked on with interest.
In the age in which he lived feelings of compassion scarcely
existed. War was the normal state of existence. Tribal wars were
of constant occurrence, and the vanquished were either slain or
enslaved. Men fought out their private quarrels to the death; and
Beric, being by birth Briton and by education Roman, felt no more
compunction at the sight of blood than did either Briton or
Roman.

To him the only unnatural feature in the contest was that
there existed neither personal nor tribal hostility between the
combatants, and that they fought solely for the amusement of the
spectators. Otherwise he was no more moved by the scenes that
passed before his eyes than is a Briton of the present day by a
friendly boxing match. He was more interested when Porus entered
the arena, accompanied by Scopus. He liked Porus, who, although
quick and fiery in temper, was good natured and not given to
brawling. He had often practised against him, and knew exactly
his strength and skill. He was clever in the management of his
net, but failed sometimes from his eagerness to use his trident.
He was received with loud applause when he entered, and justified
the good opinion of the spectators by defeating his antagonist,
who was armed as a Samnite, the spectators expressing their
dissatisfaction at the clumsiness of the latter by giving the
hostile signal, when the Gaul–for the vanquished belonged to
that nationality–instead of waiting for the approach of Porus,
at once stabbed himself with his own sword.

The last pair to fight were Lupus and one of the Britons. He
had not been trained in the school of Scopus, but in one of the
other ludi, and as he was the first of those brought over by
Suetonius to appear in the arena, he was greeted with acclamation
as loud as those with which Lupus was received. Tall as Lupus
was, the Briton far exceeded him in stature, and the interest of
the spectators was aroused by the question whether the strength
of the newcomer would render him a fair match for the well known
skill of Lupus. A buzz went round the amphitheatre as bets were
made on the result. Beric felt a thrill of excitement, for the
Briton was one of the youngest and most active of his followers,
and had often fought side by side with him against the
Romans.

How well he had been trained Beric knew not, but as he knew
that he himself was superior in swordmanship to Lupus, he felt
that his countryman’s chances of success were good. It was not
long, however, before he saw that the teaching the Briton had
received had been very inferior to that given at the school of
Scopus, and although he twice nearly beat Lupus to the ground by
the sheer weight of his blows, the latter thrice wounded him
without himself receiving a scratch. Warned, however, of the
superior strength of the Briton Lupus still fought cautiously,
avoiding his blows, and trying to tire him out. For a long time
the conflict continued, then, thinking that his opponent was now
weakened by his exertions and by loss of blood, Lupus took the
offensive and hotly pressed his antagonist, and presently
inflicted a fourth and more severe wound than those previously
given.

A shout rose from the spectators, “Lupus wins!” when the
Briton, with a sudden spring, threw himself upon his opponent.
Their shields clashed together as they stood breast to breast.
Lupus shortened his sword to thrust it in below the Briton’s
buckler, when the latter smote with the hilt of his sword with
all his strength full upon his assailant’s helmet, and so
tremendous was the blow that Lupus fell an inert mass upon the
ground, while a tremendous shout rose from the audience at this
unexpected termination of the contest. Scopus leaned over the
fallen man. He was insensible but breathed, being simply stunned
by the weight of the blow. Scopus held up his own hand, and the
unanimous upturning of the thumbs showed that the spectators were
well satisfied with the skill and courage with which Lupus had
fought.

CHAPTER XV: THE
CHRISTIANS TO THE LIONS

After the contest in which Lupus had been defeated there was a
pause. The gladiatorial part of the show was now over, but there
was greater excitement still awaiting the audience, for they knew
Nero had ordered that some of the Christians were to be given to
the lions. There was a hush of expectation as the door was
opened, and a procession, consisting of a priest of Jupiter and
several attendants of the temple, followed by four guards
conducting an elderly man with his two sons, lads of seventeen or
eighteen, entered. They made their way across the arena and
stopped before the emperor. The priest approached the prisoners,
holding out a small image of the god, and offered them their
lives if they would pay the customary honours to it. All refused.
They were then conducted back to the centre of the arena, and the
rest, leaving them there, filed out through the door. The old man
laid his hands on the shoulders of his sons and began singing a
hymn, in which they both joined. Their voices rose loud and clear
in the silence of the amphitheatre, and there was neither pause
nor waver in the tone as the entrance to one of the cages at the
other end of the arena was opened, and a lion and a lioness
appeared. The animals stood hesitating as they looked round at
the sea of faces, then, encouraged by the silence, they stepped
out, and side by side made the circuit of the arena, stopping and
uttering a loud roar as they came upon the track along which the
bleeding bodies of those who had fallen had been dragged. When
they had completed the circle they again paused, and now for the
first time turned their attention to the three figures standing
in its centre. For a minute they stood irresolute, and then
crouching low crawled towards them.

Beric turned his head. He could view without emotion a contest
of armed men, but he could not, like the population of Rome, see
unarmed and unresisting men pulled down by wild beasts. There was
a dead stillness in the crowded amphitheatre, then there was a
low sound as of gasping breath. One voice alone continued the
hymn, and soon that too ceased suddenly. The tragedy was over,
and the buzz of conversation and comment again broke out among
the spectators. Certainly these Christians knew how to die. They
were bad citizens, they had doubtless assisted to burn Rome, but
they knew how to die.

A strong body of guards provided with torches now entered. The
lions were driven back to their dens, the bodies being left lying
where they had fallen. Four batches of prisoners who were brought
out one after another met with a similar fate. Then there was
another pause. It was known that a girl of noble family was to be
the last victim, and all eyes were turned to Norbanus, who, with
his wife and Aemilia, sat in the front row near Nero, with two
Praetorian guards standing beside them. Norbanus was deadly pale,
but the pride of noble blood, the stoicism of the philosopher,
and the knowledge of his own utter helplessness combined to
prevent his showing any other sign of emotion. Lesbia sat upright
and immovable herself. She was not one to show her emotion before
the gaze of the common people.

Aemilia, half insensible, would have fallen had not the guard
beside her supported her. She had seen nothing of what had passed
in the arena, but had sat frozen with horror beside her mother.
Again the doors opened, a priest of Diana, followed by a
procession of white robed attendants, and six virgins from the
temple of Diana, entered, followed by Ennia between the
attendants of the temple, while a band of lictors brought up the
rear. Even the hardened hearts of the spectators were moved by
the youth and beauty of the young girl, who, dressed in white,
advanced calmly between her guards, with a gentle modest
expression on her features. When the procession formed up before
the emperor, she saluted him. The priest and the virgins
surrounded her, and urged her to pay reverence to the statue of
Diana.

Pointing to her parents, they implored her for their sake to
recant. Pale as death, and with tears streaming down her cheeks,
she shook her head quietly. “I cannot deny the Lord who died for
me,” she said.

Nero himself rose from his seat. “Maiden,” he said, “if not
for your own sake, for the sake of those who love you, I pray you
to cease from your obstinacy. How can a child like you know more
than the wisest heads of Rome? How can you deny the gods who have
protected and given victory to your country? I would fain spare
you.”

“I am but a child, as you say, Caesar,” Ennia replied. “I have
no strength of my own, but I am strong in the strength of Him I
worship. He gave His life for me–it is not much that I should
give mine for Him.”

Nero sank back on his seat with an angry wave of his hand. He
saw that the sympathy of the audience was with the prisoner, and
would willingly have gained their approval by extending his
clemency towards her. The procession now returned to the centre
of the arena, where the girls, weeping, took leave of Ennia, who
soon stood alone a slight helpless figure in the sight of the
great silent multitude. Nero had spoken in a low tone to one of
his attendants. The door of another cage was opened, and a lion,
larger in bulk than any that had previously appeared, entered the
arena, saluting the audience with a deep roar. As it did so a
tall figure, naked to the waist, sprang forward from the group of
attendants behind a strong barrier at the other end of the arena.
He was armed only with a sword which he had snatched from a
soldier standing next to him. Deep murmurs of surprise rose from
the spectators. The master of ceremonies exchanged a few words
with the emperor, and a body of men with torches and trumpets ran
forward and drove the lion back into its den. Then Beric, who had
been standing in front of Ennia, advanced towards the
emperor.

“Who are you?” Nero asked.

“I am Beric, once chief of the Iceni, now a British captive. I
received great kindness on my way hither from Norbanus, the
father of this maid. As we Britons are not ungrateful I am ready
to defend her to the death, and I crave as a boon, Caesar, that
you will permit me to battle against the lion with such arms as
you may decide.”

“Are you a Christian?” the emperor asked coldly.

“I am not. I am of the religion of my nation, and Rome has
always permitted the people that have been subdued to worship in
their own fashion. I know nought of the Christian doctrines, but
I know that this damsel at least can have had nought to do with
the burning of Rome, and that though she may have forsaken the
gods of Rome, in this only can she have offended. I pray you, and
I pray this assembly, to let me stand as her champion against the
beasts.”

A burst of applause rose from the spectators. This was a
novelty, and an excitement beyond what they had bargained for.
They had been moved by the youth of the victim, and now the
prospects of something even more exciting than the rending to
pieces of a defenceless girl enlisted them in favour of the
applicant. Moreover the Romans intensely admired feats of
bravery, and that this captive should offer to face single handed
an animal that was known to be one of the most powerful of those
in the amphitheatre filled them with admiration. Accustomed as
they were to gaze at athletes, they were struck with the physique
and strength of this young Briton, with the muscles standing up
massive and knotted through the white skin.

“Granted, granted!” they shouted; “let him fight.”

Nero waited till the acclamation ceased, and then said: “The
people have spoken, let their will be done. But we must not be
unfair to the lion; as the maiden was unarmed so shall you stand
unarmed before the lion.”

The decision was received in silence by the spectators. It was
a sentence of death to the young Briton, and the silence was
succeeded by a low murmur of disapproval. Beric turned a little
pale, but he showed no other sign of emotion.

“Thanks, Caesar, for so much of a boon,” he said in a loud,
steady voice; “I accept the conditions, it being understood that
should the gods of my country, and of this maiden, defend me
against the lion, the damsel shall be free from all pain and
penalty, and shall be restored to her parents.”

“That is understood,” Nero replied.

With an inclination of his head to the emperor and a wave of
his hand to the audience in general, Beric turned and walked
across the arena to the barrier. Scopus was standing there.

“You are mad, Beric. I grieve for you. You were my favourite
pupil, and I looked for great things from you, and now it has
come to this, and all is over.”

“All is not quite over yet, Scopus. I will try to do credit to
your training; give me my cloak.” He wrapped himself in its ample
folds, and then walked quietly back to the centre of the arena. A
murmur of surprise rose from the spectators. Why should the
Briton cumber his limbs with this garment?

On reaching his position Beric again threw off the cloak, and
stood in the short skirt reaching scarce to the knees. “I am
unarmed,” he cried in a loud voice. “You see I have not as much
as a dagger.” Then he tore off two broad strips from the edge of
the garment and twisted them into ropes, forming a running noose
in each, threw the cloak, which was composed of the stout cloth
used by the common people, over his arm, and signed to the
attendants at the cage to open the door.

“Oh, Beric, why have you thrown away your life in a useless
attempt to save mine?” Ennia said as he stood before her.

“It may not be useless, Ennia. My god has protected me through
many dangers, and your God will surely assist me now. Do you pray
to Him for aid.”

Then as the door of the den opened he stepped a few paces
towards it. A roar of applause rose from the vast audience. They
had appreciated his action in making the ropes, and guessed that
he meant to use his cloak as a retiarius used his net; there
would then be a contest and not a massacre. Enraged at its former
treatment the lion dashed out of its den with a sudden spring,
made three or four leaps forward, and then paused with its eyes
fixed on the man standing in front of it, still immovable, in an
easy pose, ready for instant action. Then it sank till its belly
nearly touched the ground, and began to crawl with a stealthy
gliding motion towards him. More and more slowly it went, till it
paused at a distance of some ten yards.

For a few seconds it crouched motionless, save for a slow
waving motion of its tail; then with a sharp roar it sprang
through the air. With a motion as quick Beric leaped aside, and
as it touched the ground he sprang across its loins, at the same
moment wrapping his cloak in many folds round its head, and
knotting the ends tightly. Then as the lion, recovering from its
first surprise, sprang to its feet with a roar of anger and
disgust, Beric was on his feet beside it.

For a moment it strove to tear away the strange substance
which enveloped its head, but Beric dropped the end of a noose
over one of its forepaws, drew it tight, and with a sudden pull
jerked the animal over on its back. As it sprang up again the
other forepaw was noosed, and it was again thrown over. This
time, as it sprang to its feet, Beric struck it a tremendous blow
on the nose. The unexpected assault for a moment brought it down,
but mad with rage it sprang up and struck out in all directions
at its invisible foe, leaping and bounding hither and thither.
Beric easily avoided the onslaught, and taking every opportunity
struck it three or four times with all his force on the ear, each
time rolling it over and over. The last of these blows seemed
almost to stun it, and it lay for a moment immovable.

Again Beric leaped upon it, coming down astride of its loins
with all his weight, and seizing at once the two ropes. The lion
uttered a roar of dismay and pain, and struck at him first with
one paw and then with the other. By his coolness and quickness,
however, he escaped all the blows, and then, when the lion seemed
exhausted, he jerked tightly the cords, twisting them behind the
lion’s back and with rapid turns fastening them together. The
lion was helpless now. Had Beric attempted to pull the cords in
any other position it would have snapped them like pack thread,
but in this position it had no strength, the pads of the feet
being fastened together and the limbs almost dislocated. As the
animal rolled over and over uttering roars of vain fury, Beric
snatched the cloth from its head, tore off another strip, twisted
it, and without difficulty bound its hind legs together. Then he
again wrapped it round the lion’s head, and standing up bowed to
the spectators.

A mighty shout shook the building. Never had such a feat been
seen in the arena before, and men and women alike standing up
waved their hands with frantic enthusiasm. Beric had not escaped
altogether unhurt, for as the lion struck out at him it had torn
away a piece of flesh from his side, and the blood was streaming
down over his white skirt. Then he went up to Ennia, who was
standing with closed eyes and hands clasped in prayer. She had
seen nothing of the conflict, and had believed that Beric’s death
and her own were inevitable.

“Ennia,” he said, “our gods have saved me; the lion is
helpless.” Then she sank down insensible. He raised her on his
shoulder, walked across the arena, passed the barrier, and,
ascending the steps, walked along before the first row of
spectators and handed her over to her mother. Then he descended
again, and bowed deeply, first to the emperor and then to the
still shouting people.

The giver of the games advanced and placed on his head a crown
of bay leaves, and handed to him a heavy purse of gold, which
Beric placed in his girdle, and, again saluting the audience,
rejoined Scopus, who was in a state of enthusiastic delight at
the prowess of his pupil.

“You have proved yourself the first gladiator in Rome,” he
said. “Henceforth the school of Scopus is ahead of all its
rivals. Now we must get your side dressed. Another inch or two,
Beric, and the conflict would not have ended as it did.”

“Yes, if the lion had not been in such a hurry to strike, and
had stretched its paw to the fullest, it would have fared badly
with me,” Beric said; “but it was out of breath and spiteful, and
had not recovered from the blow and from the shock of my jumping
on it, which must have pretty nearly broken its back. I knew it
was a risk, but it was my only chance of getting its paws in that
position, and in no other would my ropes have been strong enough
to hold them.”

“But how came you to think of fighting in that way?” Scopus
asked, after the leech, who was always in attendance to dress the
wounds of the gladiators, had bandaged up his side.

“I never expected to have to fight the beasts unarmed,” Beric
said, “but I had sometimes thought what should be done in such a
case, and I thought that if one could but wrap one’s cloak round
a lion’s head the beast would be at one’s mercy. Had I had but a
caestus I could have beaten its skull in, but without that I saw
that the only plan was to noose its limbs. Surely a man ought to
be able to overcome a blinded beast.”

“I would not try it for all the gold in Rome, Beric, even now
that I have seen you do it. Did you mark Caesar? There is no one
appreciates valiant deeds more than he does. At first his
countenance was cold–I marked him narrowly–but he half rose
to his feet and his countenance changed when you first threw
yourself on the lion, and none applauded more warmly than he did
when your victory was gained. Listen to them; they are shouting
for you again. You must go. Never before did I know them to
linger after a show was over. They will give you presents.”

“I care not for them,” Beric said.

“You must take them,” Scopus said, “or you will undo the
favourable impression you have made, which will be useful to you
should you ever enter the arena again and be conquered. Go,
go!”

Beric again entered the arena, and the attendants led him up
to the emperor, who presented him with a gold bracelet,
saying:

“I will speak to you again, Beric. I had wondered that you and
your people should have resisted Suetonius so long, but I wonder
no longer.”

Then Beric was led round the arena. Ladies threw down rings
and bracelets to him. These were gathered up by the attendants
and handed to him as he bowed to the givers. Norbanus, his wife,
and daughter had already left their seats, surrounded by friends
congratulating them, and bearing with them the still insensible
girl. Having made the tour of the arena Beric again saluted the
audience and retired. One of the imperial attendants met them as
they left the building.

“The emperor bids me say, Scopus, that when Beric is recovered
from his wound he is to attend at the palace.”

“I thought the emperor meant well towards you,” Scopus said.
“You will in any case fight no more in the arena.”

“How is that?” Beric asked in surprise.

“Did you not hear the shouts of the people the last time you
entered, Beric?”

“I heard a great confused roar, but in truth I was feeling
somewhat faint from loss of blood, and did not catch any
particular sounds.”

“They shouted that you were free from the arena henceforth. It
is their custom when a gladiator greatly distinguishes himself to
declare him free, though I have never known one before freed on
his first appearance. The rule is that a gladiator remains for
two years in the ring, but that period is shortened should the
people deem that he has earned his life by his courage and skill.
For a moment I was sorry when I heard it, but perhaps it is
better as it is. Did you remain for two years, and fight and
conquer at every show, you could gain no more honour than you
have done. Now I will get a lectica and have you carried out to
the hills. You are not fit to walk.”

They were joined outside by Porus and Lupus. The former was
warm in his congratulation.

“By the gods, Beric, though I knew well that you would gain a
great triumph in the arena when your time came, I never thought
to see you thus fighting with the beasts unarmed. Why, Milo
himself was not stronger, and he won thirteen times at the
Olympian and Pythian games. He would have won more, but no one
would venture to enter against him. Why, were you to go on
practising for another five years, you would be as strong as he
was, and as you are as skilful as you are strong it would go hard
with any that met you. I congratulated myself, I can tell you,
when I heard the people shout that you were free of the arena,
for if by any chance we had been drawn against each other, I
might as well have laid down my net and asked you to finish me at
once without trouble.”

“It was but a happy thought, Porus: if a man could be caught
in a net, why not a lion blinded in a cloak? That once done the
rest was easy.”

“Well, I don’t want any easy jobs of that sort,” Porus said.
“But let us go into a wine shop; a glass will bring the colour
again to your cheeks.”

“No, no, Porus,” Scopus said. “Do you and Lupus drink, and I
will drink with you, but no wine for Beric. I will get him a cup
of hot ass’s milk; that will give him strength without fevering
his blood. Here is a place where they sell it. I will go in with
him first, and then join you there; but take not too much. You
have a long walk back, and I guess, Lupus, that your head already
hums from the blow that Briton gave it. By Bacchus, these Britons
are fine men! I thought you had got an easy thing of it, when
boom! and there you were stretched out like a dead man.”

“It was a trick,” Lupus said angrily, “a base trick.”

“Not at all,” Scopus replied. “You fought as if in war; and in
war if you had an opponent at close quarters, and could not use
your sword’s point, you would strike him down with the hilt if
you could. As I have told you over and over again, you are a good
swordsman, but you don’t know everything yet by a long way, and
you are so conceited that you never will. I hoped that drubbing
Beric gave you a few days after he joined us would have done you
good, but I don’t see that it has. There are some men who never
seem to learn. If it had not been for you our ludus would have
triumphed all round today; but when one sees a man we put forward
as one of our best swordsmen defeated by a raw Briton, people may
well say, ‘Scopus has got one or two good men; there is Beric, he
is a marvel; and Porus is good with the net; but as for the rest,
I don’t value them a straw.”

The enraged gladiator sprang upon Scopus, but the latter
seized him by the waist and hurled him down with such force that
he was unable to rise until Porus assisted him to his feet. As to
Scopus, he paid him no farther attention, but putting his hand on
Beric’s shoulder led him into the shop. A long draught of hot
milk did wonders for Beric, and he proposed walking, but Scopus
would not hear of it.

“Sit down here for five minutes,” he said, “till I have a cup
of wine with the others. I should think Lupus must need it pretty
badly, what with the knock on the head and the tumble I have just
given him. I am not sorry that he was beaten by your countryman,
for since he has had the luck to win two or three times in the
arena, his head has been quite turned. He would never have dared
to lay his hand on me had he not been half mad, for he knows well
enough that I could strangle him with one hand. The worst of him
is, that the fellow bears malice. He has never forgiven you the
thrashing you administered to him. Now I suppose he will be sulky
for weeks; but if he does it will be worse for him, for I will
cut off his wine, and that will soon bring him to his
senses.”

Scopus had gone but a few minutes when he returned with a
lectica, which was a sort of palanquin, carried by four stout
countrymen.

“Really, Scopus, it is ridiculous that I should be carried
along the streets like a woman.”

“Men are carried as well as women, Beric, and as you are a
wounded man you have a double right to be carried. Here is a bag
with all those ornaments you got. It is quite heavy to lift.”

The bearers protested loudly at the weight of their burden
when they lifted the lectica, but the promise of a little extra
pay silenced their complaints. They were scarcely beyond the city
when Beric, who was weaker from loss of blood than he imagined,
dozed off to sleep, and did not wake till the lectica was set
down in the atrium of the house on the Alban Hills.

Next morning he was extremely stiff, and found himself obliged
to continue on his couch.

“It is of no use your trying to get up,” Scopus said; “the
muscles of your flank are badly torn, and you must remain
quiet.”

An hour later a rheda or four wheeled carriage drove up to the
door, and in another minute Norbanus entered Beric’s cubicle.
There were tears in his eyes as he held out both hands to him.
“Ah, my friend,” he said, “how happy you must be in the happiness
you caused to us! Who could have thought, when I entertained, as
a passing guest, the friend of Pollio, that he would be the
saviour of my family? You must have thought poorly of us
yesterday that I was not at the exit from the amphitheatre to
meet and thank you. But I hurried home with Ennia, and having
left her in charge of her mother and sister came back to find
you, but you had left, and I could learn no news of you. I
searched for some time, and then guessing that you had been
brought home by Scopus, I went back to the child, who is sorely
ill. I fear that the strain has been too much for her, and that
we shall lose her. But how different from what it would have
been! To die is the lot of us all, and though I shall mourn my
child, it will be a different thing indeed from seeing her torn
to pieces before my eyes by the lion. She has recovered from her
faint, but she lies still and quiet, and scarce seems to hear
what is said to her. Her eyes are open, she has a happy smile on
her lips, and I believe that she is well content now that she has
done what she deems her duty to her God. She smiled when I told
her this morning that I was coming over to see you, and said in a
whisper, ‘I shall see him again, father.'”

“Would she like to see me now?” Beric said, making an effort
to rise.

“No, not now, Beric. I don’t think somehow that she meant
that. The leech said that she must be kept perfectly quiet; but I
will send a slave with a letter to you daily. Oh, what a day was
yesterday! The woes of a lifetime seemed centred in an hour. I
know not how I lived as I sat there and waited for the fatal
moment. All the blood in my veins seemed to freeze up as she was
left alone in the arena. A mist came over my eyes. I tried to
close them, but could not. I saw nothing of the amphitheatre,
nothing of the spectators, nothing but her, till, at the sudden
shout from the crowd, I roused myself with a start. When I saw
you beside her I thought at first that I dreamed; but Aemilia
suddenly clasped my arm and said, ‘It is Beric!’ Then I hoped
something, I know not what, until Nero said that you must meet
the lion unarmed.

“Then I thought all was over–that two victims were to die
instead of one. I tried to rise to cry to you to go, for that I
would die by Ennia, but my limbs refused to support me; and
though I tried to shout I did but whisper. What followed was too
quick for me to mark. I saw the beast spring at you; I saw a
confused struggle; but not until I saw you rise and bow, while
the lion rolled over and over, bound and helpless, did I realize
that what seemed impossible had indeed come to pass, and that
you, unarmed and alone, had truly vanquished the terrible
beast.

“I hear that all Rome is talking of nothing else. My friends,
who poured in all the evening to congratulate us, told me so, and
that no such feat had ever been seen in the arena.”

“It does not seem much to me, Norbanus,” Beric said. “It
needed only some coolness and strength, though truly I myself
doubted, when Nero gave the order to fight without weapons, if it
could be done. I cannot but think that Ennia’s God and mine aided
me.”

“It is strange,” Norbanus said, “that one so young and weak as
Ennia should have shown no fear, and that the other Christians
should all have met their fate with so wonderful a calm. As you
know, I have thought that all religions were alike, each tribe
and nation having its own. But methinks there must be something
more in this when its votaries are ready so to die for it.”

“Do not linger with me,” Beric said. “You must be longing to
be with your child. Pray, go at once. She must be glad to have
you by her, even if she says little. I thank you for your promise
to send news to me daily. If she should express any desire to see
me, I will get Scopus to provide a vehicle to carry me to Rome;
but in a few days I hope to be about.”

“Your first visit must be to Caesar, when you are well enough
to walk,” Norbanus said. “They tell me he bade you come to see
him, and he would be jealous did he know that he was not the
first in your thoughts.”

Norbanus returned to Rome, and each day a letter came to
Beric. The news was always the same; there was no change in
Ennia’s condition.

Beric’s wound healed rapidly. Hard work and simple living had
so toughened his frame that a wound that might have been serious
affected him only locally, and mended with surprising rapidity.
In a week he was up and about, and three days later he felt well
enough to go to Rome.

“You would have been better for a few days more rest,” Scopus
said, “but Nero is not fond of being kept waiting; and if he
really wishes to see you it would be well that you present
yourself as soon as possible.”

“I care nothing for Nero,” Beric said; “but I should be glad,
for the sake of Norbanus, to see his daughter. It may be that my
presence might rouse her and do her good. I want none of Nero’s
favours; they are dangerous at best. His liking is fatal. He has
now murdered Britannicus, his wife Octavia, and his mother
Agrippina. He has banished Seneca, and every other adviser he had
he has either executed or driven into exile.”

“That is all true enough, Beric, though it is better not said.
Still, you must remember you have no choice. There is no
thwarting Nero; if he designs to bestow favours upon you, you
must accept them. I agree with you that they are dangerous; but
you know how to guard yourself. A man who has fought a lion with
naked hands may well manage to escape even the clutches of Nero.
He has struck down the greatest and richest; but it is easier for
one who is neither great nor rich to escape. At any rate, Beric,
I have a faith in your fortune. You have gone through so much,
that I think surely some god protects you. By the way, what are
you going to do with that basketful of women’s ornaments that I
have locked up in my coffer?”

“I thought no more about them, Scopus.”

“I should advise you to sell them. In themselves they are
useless to you. But once turned into money they may some day
stand you in good stead. They are worth a large sum, I can tell
you, and I don’t care about keeping them here. None of my school
are condemned malefactors. I would never take such men, even to
please the wealthiest patron. But there is no use in placing
temptation before any, and Porus and Lupus will have told how the
Roman ladies flung their bracelets to you. I will take them down
to a goldsmith who works for some of my patrons, and get him to
value them, if you will.”

“Thank you, Scopus, I shall be glad to get rid of them. How
would you dress for waiting on Caesar?”

“I have been thinking it over,” Scopus said. “I should say
well, and yet not too well. You are a free man, for although Nero
disposed of you as if you had been slaves, you were not enslaved
nor did you bear the mark of slavery, therefore you have always
dressed like a free man. Again, you are a chief among your own
people; therefore, as I say, I should dress well but quietly.
Nero has many freedmen about him, and though some of these
provoke derision by vying with the wealthiest, this I know would
never be done by you, even did you bask in the favour of Nero. A
white tunic and a paenula of fine white cloth or a lacerna, both
being long and ample so as to fall in becoming folds, would be
the best. As I shall ride into Rome with you, you can there get
one before going to see Nero.”

On arriving at Rome Beric was soon fitted with a cloak of fine
white stuff, the folds of which showed off his figure to
advantage. Scopus accompanied him to Nero’s palace.

“I know several of his attendants,” he said, “and can get you
passed in to the emperor, which will save you waiting hours,
perhaps, before you can obtain an audience.”

Taking him through numerous courts and along many passages
they reached a chamber where several officials of the palace were
walking and talking, waiting in readiness should they be required
by Nero. Scopus went up to one with whom he was well acquainted.
After the usual greetings he explained to him that he had, in
accordance with Nero’s order, brought the young Briton, Beric,
who had conquered the lion in the arena, and begged him to ask
the emperor whether he would choose to give him audience at
present.

“I will acquaint his chief chamberlain at once, Scopus, and
will ask him, for your sake, to choose his moment for telling
Nero. It may make a great difference in the fortunes of the young
man whether Caesar is in a good temper or not when he receives
him. It is not often at present that he is in bad humour. Since
the fire his mind has been filled with great ideas, and he thinks
of little but making the city in all respects magnificent, and as
he loves art in every way this is a high delight to him;
therefore, unless aught has gone wrong with him, he will be found
accessible. I will go to the chamberlain at once, my Scopus.”

It was half an hour before he returned. “The chamberlain said
that there could not be a better time for your gladiator to see
Caesar, and therefore he has spoken to him at once, and Nero has
ordered the Briton to be brought to him. These two officials will
conduct him at once to his presence.”

Beric was taken in charge by the two ushers, and was led along
several passages, in each of which a guard was on duty, until
they reached a massive door. Here two soldiers were stationed.
The ushers knocked. Another official presented himself at the
door, and, beckoning to Beric to follow him, pushed aside some
rich hangings heavy with gold embroidery. They were now in a
small apartment, the walls of which were of the purest white
marble, and the furniture completely covered with gold. Crossing
this he drew another set of hangings aside, entered with Beric,
bowed deeply, and saying, “This is the Briton, Caesar,” retired,
leaving Beric standing before the emperor.

The apartment was of moderate size, exquisitely decorated in
Greek fashion. One end was open to a garden, where plants and
shrubs of the most graceful foliage, brought from many parts of
the world, threw a delicious shade. Statues of white marble
gleamed among them, and fountains of perfumed waters filled the
air with sweet odours. Nero sat in a simple white tunic upon a
couch, while a black slave, of stature rivalling that of Beric,
kneeled in front of him holding out a great sheet of parchment
with designs of some of the decorations of his new palace. Nero
waved his hand, and the slave, rolling up the parchment, took his
stand behind the emperor’s couch. The latter looked long and
steadily at him before speaking, as if to read his
disposition.

“Beric,” he said, “I have seen you risk your life for one who
was but little to you, for I have spoken to Norbanus, and have
learned from him the nature of your acquaintance with him, and
found that you have seen but little of this young maiden for whom
you were ready to risk what seemed certain death. Moreover, she
was but a young girl, and her life can have had no special value
in your eyes; therefore, it seems to me that you are one who
would be a true and faithful friend indeed to a man who on his
part was a friend to you. You have the other qualities of bravery
and skill and strength. Moreover, you belong to no party in Rome.
I have inquired concerning you, and find that although Pollio,
the nephew of Norbanus, introduced you to many of his friends,
you have gone but little among them, but have spent your time
much, when not in the ludus, in the public libraries. Being
myself a lover of books, the report inclines me the more toward
you. I feel that I could rely upon you, and you would find in me
not a master but a friend. Of those around me I can trust but
few. They serve from interest, and if their interest lay the
other way they would desert me. I have many enemies, and though
the people love me, the great families, whose connections and
relations are everywhere, think only of their private aims and
ends, and many deem themselves to have reasons for hatred against
me. I need one like you, brave, single minded, resolute, and
faithful to me, who would be as simple and as true when raised to
wealth and honour as you have shown yourself when but a simple
gladiator. Wilt thou be such a one to me?”

“I am but ill fitted for such a post, Caesar,” Beric said
gravely. “I have been a chief and leader of my own people, and my
tongue would never bring itself to utter the flattering words
used by those who surround an imperial throne. Monarchs love not
the truth, and my blunt speech would speedily offend you. A
faithful guard to your majesty I might be, more than that I fear
I never could be, for even to please you, Nero, I could not say
aught except what I thought.”

“I should expect and wish for no more,” Nero said. “It is good
to hear the truth sometimes. I heard it from Seneca; but, alas! I
did not value it then as I should have done. I am older and wiser
now. Besides, Seneca was a Roman, and necessarily mixed up in the
intrigues that are ever on foot, and connected with half the
great families in Rome. You stand alone, and I should know that
whatever you said the words would be your own, and would not have
been put in your mouth by others, and even when your opinions ran
counter to mine I should respect them. Well, what do you
say?”

“It is not for me to bargain with the master of Rome,” Beric
said. “I am ready to be your man, Caesar, to lay down my life in
your defence, to be your guard as a faithful hound might be;
only, I pray you, take me not in any way into your confidence as
to state affairs, for of these I am wholly ignorant. My ideas are
those of a simple British chief. Rome and its ways are too
complicated for me to understand, and were you to speak to me on
such matters I should soon forfeit your favour. For we in Britain
are, as it were, people of another world–simple and
straightforward in our thoughts and ways, and with no ideas of
state expediency. Therefore, I pray you, let me stand aloof from
all such matters, and regard me simply as one ready to strike and
die in your defence, and as having no more interest or knowledge
of state affairs and state intrigues than those statues in the
garden there.”

“So be it,” Nero said. “You are modest, Beric, and modesty is
a virtue rare in Rome; but I appreciate your honesty, and feel
sure that I can rely upon you for faithful service. Let me see,
to what office shall I appoint you? I cannot call you my
bodyguard, for this would excite the jealousy of the
Praetorians.” He sat in thought for a minute. “Ah!” he exclaimed,
“you are fond of books, I will appoint you my private librarian.
My libraries are vast, but I will have a chamber close to mine
own fitted up with the choicest books, so that I can have ready
at hand any that I may require. This will be an excuse for having
you always about my person.”

“I do not speak Greek, Caesar.”

“You shall have under you a Greek freedman, one Chiton, who is
now in my library. He will take charge of the rolls, for I do not
intend that you should remain shut up there. It is but a pretext
for your presence here.”

He touched a bell and a servant entered. “Tell Phaon to come
to me.” A minute later Phaon, a freedman who stood very high in
the confidence of Nero, entered.

“Phaon,” the emperor said, “this is Beric the Briton, he has
entered my service, and will have all my trust and confidence
even as you have. Prepare for him apartments close to mine, and
appoint slaves for his service. See that he has everything in
accordance with his position as a high official of the palace.
Let one of the rooms be furnished with sets of books, of which I
will give you a list, from my library. Chiton is to be in charge
of it under him. Beric is to be called my private librarian. I
wish him to be at all times within call of me. You will be
friends with Beric, Phaon, for he is as honest as you are, and
will be, like you, a friend of mine, and, as you may perceive, is
one capable of taking part of a friend in case of need.”

Phaon bowed deeply and signed to Beric to follow him; the
latter bowed to Nero, who nodded to him pleasantly, and left the
room with Phaon. The freedman took him to his private
apartment.

“Nero has chosen well this time, methinks,” he said after a
close scrutiny of the newcomer. “It is no easy post on which you
have entered, Beric. Nero is changeable in his moods, but you
carry your heart in your face, and even he can have no suspicions
of you. Take my advice, make friends with no man, for one who
stands high in court favour today may be an exile or condemned
tomorrow, and then all connected with him in any way are apt to
share his fate; therefore, it is best to stand quite alone. By
tomorrow morning you will find everything in readiness for you
here.”

CHAPTER XVI: IN NERO’S
PALACE

Upon leaving Phaon, Beric was conducted to the room where he
had left Scopus. The latter at once joined him, and without
asking any questions left the palace with him.

“I would ask nothing until you were outside,” Scopus said.
“They were wondering there at the long audience you have had with
Nero. Judging by the gravity of your face, things have not gone
well with you.”

“They have gone well in one sense,” Beric said, “though I
would vastly rather that they had gone otherwise. I feel very
much more fear now than when I stood awaiting the attack of the
lion.”

And he then related to Scopus the conversation he had had with
Nero. The lanista inclined himself humbly to the ground.

“You are a great man now, Beric, though, as you say, the place
is not without its dangers. I guessed when Caesar sent for you
that he purposed to use your strength and courage in his service.
Your face is one that invites trust, and Nero was wise enough to
see that if he were to trust you he must trust you altogether. He
has acted wisely. He deemed that, having no friends and
connections in Rome, he could rely upon you as he could rely upon
no one who is a native here. You will be a great man, for a time
at any rate.”

“I would rather have remained at your ludus, Scopus. I shall
feel like a little dog I saw the other day in a cage of one of
the lions. The beast seemed fond of it, but the little creature
knew well that at any moment the lion might stretch out its paw
and crush it.”

Scopus nodded.

“That is true enough, Beric, though there are tens of
thousands in Rome who would gladly run the risk for the sake of
the honour and profit. Still, as I said to you before we started,
I have faith in your good fortune and quickness, and believe that
you may escape from the bars where another would lose his skin.
Tell to none but myself what Caesar has said to you. The world
will soon guess that your post as private librarian is but a
pretext for Caesar to have you near him. It is not by such a post
that the victor of the arena would be rewarded.” They now went
together to a goldsmith.

“Ah! Scopus, I have been expecting you. I saw you in the arena
with your two gladiators. Afterwards I saw this tall young Briton
fight the lion, and when I heard that he was at your ludus I said
to myself, ‘Scopus will be bringing him to me to dispose of some
of the jewelry to which the ladies were so prodigal.'”

“That is our errand, Rufus. Here is the bag.”

The goldsmith opened it.

“You don’t expect me to name a price for all these articles,
Scopus? It will take me a day to examine and appraise them; and,
indeed, I shall have to go to a friend or two for money, for
there is enough here to stock a shop. Never did I know our ladies
so liberal of their gifts.”

“Ah!” Scopus said, “and you don’t often see gifts so well
deserved; but, mind you, if it had been I who had fought the lion–I,
who have nothing to recommend me in the way of either
stature or looks–it would have been a very different thing.
Youth and stature and good looks go for a great deal even in the
arena, I can tell you. Well, Beric will call in a day or two.
Here is the inventory of the jewels; I have got a copy at home.
Do you put the price you will give against each, and then he can
sell or not as he pleases. He is not going to sacrifice them,
Rufus, for he has no need of money; Caesar has just appointed him
to his household.”

The manner of the jeweller changed at once.

“The list shall be ready for you in two days,” he said to
Beric respectfully. “If you have need of money on account now I
can let you have as much as you will.” Beric shook his head.

“I have all that I require,” he said. “I will return it may be
in two days, it may be more–I know not precisely how much my
duties may occupy me.”

“You will get full value for your goods,” Scopus said when
they left the shop–“that was why I mentioned that you had
entered Nero’s household, for it is a great thing to have a
friend at court.”

“And how about yourself, Scopus? You have kept me and trained
me for months. Now you are going to lose my services just when
you might begin to get a return. Moreover, I may tell you that I
shall as soon as possible get Boduoc with me. So you must name a
sum which will amply recompense you for the trouble and expense
that you have had with us.”

“I shall be no loser, Beric. When captives in war are sent to
be trained in a ludus the lanista is paid for a year’s keep and
tuition for them. After that he makes what he can from those who
give entertainments. Therefore I received from the imperial
treasury the regular amount for you and your comrades. Moreover,
the senator who gave the performances sent me a very handsome
sum–more than he had agreed to give me for Porus and Lupus
together–saying that, although he had not engaged you, your
deeds in the arena had delighted the people beyond measure, and
that as his show would be talked about for years, it was but fair
he should pay your lanista a sum worthy of the performance. And
now farewell! You know that I and your comrades at the ludus will
always be glad to see you. We shall be back in Rome as soon as my
place is rebuilt.”

“You may be sure that I will come, Scopus. You have shown me
much kindness, and if in any way I can repay you I will do so.
Tell Boduoc I hope very shortly to have him with me, and that
maybe I shall be able to find means of withdrawing the others
from the arena.”

As soon as they separated Beric walked rapidly to the house
where Norbanus had taken up his abode. As he reached the door he
paused, for he heard within the sounds of wailing, and felt that
he had come too late.

“Tell Norbanus,” he said to the slave at the door, “that Beric
is here, but that unless he wishes to see me I will leave him
undisturbed, as I fear by the cries that the Lady Ennia is
dead.”

“She died early this morning,” the slave said. “I will tell my
master that you are here.”

He returned almost directly.

“Norbanus prays you to enter,” he said, and led the way to the
magistrate’s study.

“Ah, my friend,” the Roman said, “it is over! Ennia died this
morning. She passed away as if in sleep. It is a terrible grief
to me. Thanks to the gods I can bear that as becomes a Roman; but
how would it have been had I seen her torn to pieces under my
eyes? Ah, Beric you know not from what you have saved us! We
could never have lifted up our heads again had she died so. Now
we shall grieve for her as all men grieve for those they love;
but it will be a grief without pain, for assuredly she died
happy. She spoke of you once or twice, and each time she said, ‘I
shall see him again.’ I think she was speaking her belief, that
she should meet you after death. The Christian belief in a future
state is like yours, you know, Beric, rather than like ours.”

“She was a gentle creature,” Beric said, “and as she dared
even death by the lions for her God, assuredly she will go to the
Happy Island, though it may not be the same that the Druids tell
us Britons of. And how are the Ladies Lesbia and Aemilia?”

“My wife is well,” the magistrate said. “She has not the
consolations of philosophy as I have, but I think that she feels
it is better for the child herself that she should have so died.
Ennia would always have remained a Christian, and fresh troubles
and persecutions would have come. Besides, her religion would
have put her apart from her mother and her family. To me, of
course, it would have made no difference, holding the views that
I do as to the religions of the world; but my wife sees things in
a different light. Aemilia is worn out with watching and grief,
but I know that she will see you presently, that is, if you are
not compelled to return at once to the hills.”

“I return there no more. I have seen Nero today, and he has
appointed me an official in his household. It will seem
ridiculous to you when I say that I am to be his private
librarian. That, of course, is but a pretext to keep me near his
person, deeming that I am strong enough to be a useful guard to
him, and being a stranger am not likely to be engaged in any
intrigue that may be going on. I would rather have remained at
the ludus for a time; but there is no refusing the offers of an
emperor, and he spoke to me fairly, and I answered him as one man
should do another, frankly and openly.”

“Nero has done wisely,” Norbanus said warmly, “though for you
the promotion is perilous. To be Nero’s friend is to be condemned
beforehand to death, though for a time he may shower favours upon
you. He is fickle and inconstant, and you have not learned to
cringe and flatter, and are as likely as not to anger him by your
outspoken utterances.”

“I shall assuredly say what I think if he questions me,” Beric
said quietly; “but if he values me as a guard, he will scarce
question me when he knows that I should express an opinion
contrary to his own.”

“When do you enter his service, Beric?”

“I am to present myself tomorrow morning.”

“Then you will stay with us tonight, Beric. This is a house of
mourning, but you are as one of ourselves. You must excuse
ceremony, for I have many arrangements to make, as Ennia will be
buried tomorrow.”

“I will go out into the garden,” Beric said.

“Do so. I will send up word to Aemilia that you are there.
Doubtless she would rather meet you there than before the
slaves.”

Beric had been sitting in the shade for half an hour when he
saw Aemilia coming towards him. Her face was swollen with crying,
and the tears were still streaming down her cheeks. Beric took
her hand, and would have bent over it, when she grasped his with
both of hers and pressed it to her lips.

“Oh, Beric,” she cried, “what have you not done for us, and
how much do we not owe you! Had it not been for you, I should be
mourning now, not for Ennia who lies with a smile on her face in
her chamber, but for Ennia torn to pieces and devoured by the
lion. It seemed to me that I too should die, when suddenly you
stood between her and the fierce beast, seeming to my eyes as if
a god had come down to save her; and when all the people gave you
up as lost, standing there unarmed and calmly waiting the lion’s
attack, I felt that you would conquer. Truly Ennia’s God and
yours must have stood beside you, though I saw them not. How else
could you have been so strong and fearless? Ennia thought so too.
She told me so one night when the house was asleep, and I only
watching beside her. ‘My God was with him,’ she said. ‘None other
could have given him the strength to battle with the lion. He
will bring him to Himself in good time, and I shall meet him
again.’ She said something about your knowing that she was a
Christian. But, of course, you could not have known that.”

“I did know it, Aemilia;” and Beric then told her of his
meeting with Ennia and the old slave when they were attacked by
the plunderers on the way home from their place of meeting. “She
promised me not to go again,” he said, “without letting me know,
in which case I should have escorted her and protected her from
harm. But just after that there was the fire, and I had to go
away with Scopus to the Alban Hills; and so, as she knew that I
could not escort her, I never heard from her. I would that I had
been with her that night she was arrested, then she might not
have fallen into the hands of the guard. Indeed, had I been here
I would have gone gladly, for it seemed to me there must be
something strange in the religion that would induce a quiet
gentle girl like her to go out at night unknown to her parents.
Now I desire even more to learn about it. Her God must surely
have given her the strength and courage that she showed when she
chose death by lions rather than deny Him.”

“I, too, should like to know something about it,” Aemilia
said. “By the way Ennia spoke, when she said you knew that she
was a Christian, it seemed to me that, if you did know, which I
thought was impossible, she thought you were angry with her for
becoming a Christian.”

“I was angry with her not for being a Christian, but for going
out without your father’s knowledge, and I told her so frankly.
If it had been you I should not have been so much surprised,
because you have high spirits and are fearless in disposition;
but for her to do so seemed so strange and unnatural, that I
deemed this religion of hers must be bad in that it taught a girl
to deceive her parents.”

“What did she say, Beric?”

“I could see that she considered it her duty beyond all other
duties, and so said no more, knowing nothing of her religion
beyond what your father told me.”

“I wish Pollio had been here,” the girl said; “he would have
thought as I do about the loss of Ennia. My father has his
philosophy, and considers it rather a good thing to be out of the
world. My mother was so horrified when she heard that Ennia was a
Christian, that I am sure she is relieved at her death. I am not
a philosopher, and it was nothing to me whether Ennia took up
with this new sect or not. So you see I have no one who can
sympathize with me. You can’t think how dreadful the thought is
that I shall be alone in future.”

“We grow accustomed to all things,” Beric said. “I have lost
all my relations, my country, and everything, and I am here a
stranger and little better than a slave, and yet life seems not
so unpleasant to me. In time this grief will be healed, and you
will be happy again.”

“I am sure I should never have been happy, Beric, if she had
died in the arena. I should always have had it before my eyes–I
should have dreamt of it. But why do you say that until today
you have been almost a slave? Why is it different today?”

Beric told her of his new position.

“If I could take your position, and have your strength but for
one night,” Aemilia said passionately, “I would slay the tyrant.
He is a monster. It is to him that Ennia’s death is due. He has
committed unheard of crimes; and he will kill you, too, Beric. He
kills all those whom he once favours.”

“I shall be on my guard, Aemilia; besides, my danger will not
be great, for he will have nothing to gain by my death. I shall
keep aloof from all intrigues, and he will have no reason to
suspect me. The danger, if danger there be, will come from my
refusing to carry out any of his cruel orders. I am ready to be a
guard, but not an executioner.”

“I know how it will end,” the girl sighed; “but I shall hope
always. You conquered the lion, maybe you will conquer Nero.”

“Who is a very much less imposing creature,” Beric smiled. A
slave girl at this moment summoned Aemilia into the house. She
waited a moment.

“Remember, Beric,” she said, “that if trouble and danger come
upon you, any such poor aid as I can give will be yours. I am a
Roman girl. I have not the strength to fight as you have, but
have the courage to die; and as, at the risk of your life, you
saved Ennia for us, so would I risk my life to save yours.
Remember that a woman can plot and scheme, and that in dealing
with Nero cunning goes for as much as strength. We have many
relatives and friends here, too, and Ennia’s death in the arena
would have been viewed as a disgrace upon the whole family; so
that I can rely upon help from them if need be. Remember that,
should the occasion arise, I shall feel your refusal of my help
much more bitterly than any misfortune your acceptance of it
could bring upon me.” Then turning, the girl went up to the
house.

On arriving at Nero’s palace the next morning, and asking for
Phaon, Beric was at once conducted to his chamber.

“That is well,” the freedman said as he entered. “Nero is in
council with his architects at present. I will show you to your
chamber at once, so that you will be in readiness.”

The apartment to which Phaon led Beric was a charming one. It
had no windows in the walls, which were covered with exquisitely
painted designs, but light was given by an opening in the
ceiling, under which, in the centre of the room, was the shallow
basin into which the rain that penetrated through the opening
fell. There were several elegantly carved couches round the room.
Some bronze statues stood on plinths, and some pots of tall
aquatic plants stood in the basin; heavy hangings covered the
entrance.

“Here,” Phaon said, drawing one of them aside, “is your
cubicule, and here, next to it, is another. It is meant for a
friend of the occupant of the room; but I should not advise you
to have anyone sleep here. Nero would not sleep well did he know
that any stranger was so close to his apartment. This, and the
entrance at the other end of the room, lead into passages, while
this,” and he drew back another curtain, “is the library.”

This room was about the same size as that allotted to Beric,
being some twenty-five feet square. Short as the notice had been,
a wooden framework of cedar wood, divided into partitions fifteen
inches each way, had been erected round, and in each of these
stood a wooden case containing rolls of manuscripts, the name of
the work being indicated by a label affixed to the box. Seated at
a table in one of the angles was the Greek Chiton, who saluted
Beric.

“We shall be good friends, I hope,” Beric said, “for I shall
have to rely upon you entirely for the Greek books, and it is you
who will be the real librarian.”

Chiton was a man of some thirty years of age, with a pale
Greek face; and looking at him earnestly Beric thought that it
looked an honest one. He had anticipated that the man Nero had
chosen would be placed as a spy over him; but he now concluded
this was not so, and that Nero at present trusted him
entirely.

“This passage,” Phaon said, “leads direct to Caesar’s private
apartment, a few steps only separate them. The passage on this
side of your room also leads there, so that either from here or
from it you can be summoned at once. Now let us return to your
room. It is from there you will generally go to Nero when he
summons you. That door at the end of the short passage will not
be kept locked, while this one from the library cannot be opened
from your side. Three strokes of Nero’s bell will be the signal
that he requires you. If after the three have sounded there is
another struck smartly, you will snatch up your sword and rush in
instantly by night or day.”

“What are my duties to be?” Beric asked when they had returned
to his room, “for Chiton can discharge those of librarian
infinitely better than I can do.”

“You will sit and read here, or pass the time as you like,
until nine o’clock, at which hour Nero goes to the baths. At
eleven he goes out to inspect the works or to take part in public
ceremonies. At three he sups, and the meal lasts sometimes till
seven or eight, sometimes until midnight. Your duties in the
library will end when he goes to the baths, and after that you
will be free, unless he summons you to attend him abroad, until
supper is concluded. At night you will draw back the curtains
between the passage and your room and that of your cubicule, so
that you may hear his summons, or even his voice if loudly
raised. You will lie down with your sword ready at hand. I should
say your duties will begin at six in the morning, and it is only
between that hour and nine that you will be a prisoner in the
library.”

“I shall not find it an imprisonment,” Beric said. “Three
hours is little enough to study, with all that wealth of books
ready at hand. How about Chiton?”

“He will be on duty whenever the emperor is in the palace;
beyond that he is free to go where he likes, so that he be ready
at all times to produce any book that Nero may call for. Your
meals will be brought up to you by your attendant from the
imperial kitchen. There are, you know, baths in the palace for
the use of the officials. You will find in this chest a supply of
garments of all kinds suitable for different occasions, and here,
in the cubicule, ready to hand, are a sword and dagger, with a
helmet, breastplate, and shield, to be worn only when Caesar
desires you to accompany him armed. If there is anything else
that you require, you have but to give the order to your
attendant, who will obtain it from the steward of the
palace.”

At this moment a slave drew aside the hanging: “Caesar expects
you, Beric.”

Nero was standing at the top of the steps into the garden when
Beric entered.

“Walk with me, Beric,” he said. “For three hours I have been
going into the affairs of the city, and hearing letters read from
the governors of the provinces. It will be a change to talk of
other things. Tell me about this Britain of yours. I know about
your wars, tell me of your life at home.”

Beric at once complied. He saw that it was not information
about religion and customs that the emperor desired to hear, but
talk about simple matters that would distract his thoughts from
the cares of state. He talked, then, of his native village, of
his mother with her maids at work around her, of hunting
expeditions as a boy with Boduoc, and how both had had a narrow
escape of being devoured by wolves. Nero listened in silence as
they strolled under the deep shade of the trees. At times he
hardly seemed to be listening, but occasionally he asked a
question that showed he was following what Beric said.

“Your talk is like a breath from the snow clad mountains,” he
said at last, “or a cup of cold water to a thirsty traveller. The
word Romans never occurred in it, and yet it was in our tongue.
You were brought up among us, as I heard. Tell me of that.”

Briefly Beric described his life at Camalodunum.

“It is a strange mixture,” Nero said; “the cultivated Roman
and the wild Briton. I understand now better than I did before,
your risking your life for the Christian girl in the arena. You
did not love her?”

“No, Caesar; we Britons do not think of marriage until we are
at least five-and-twenty. We hold that young marriages
deteriorate a race. Ennia was little more than a child, according
to our notions. She was scarce sixteen, and when I saw her
before, for a few days only, she was a year younger; but I think
that I should have done the same had I never seen her before. We
Britons, like the Gauls, hold women in high respect, and I think
that few of my people would hesitate to risk their lives to save
a helpless woman.”

“I think we are all for self here,” Nero said; “but we can
admire what we should not think of imitating. I like you, Beric,
because you are so different from myself and from all around me.
We are products of Rome, you of the forest; every man here sighs
for power or wealth, or lives for pleasure–I as much as any.
We suffer none to stand in our way, but trample down
remorselessly all who hinder us. As to risking our lives for the
sake of a woman, and that woman almost a stranger, such an idea
would never so much as occur to us. This is not the only girl you
have saved. I received a letter from Caius Muro some months ago,
saying that the news had come to him in Syria that Beric, the
young chief of the Iceni, who had so long withstood Suetonius,
had been brought a prisoner to Rome, and he besought me, should
Beric still be alive, to show favour to him, as he had saved his
little daughter, when all others had been slain, at the sack of
Camalodunum, and that he had hidden her away until after the
defeat of Boadicea, and had then sent her safe and unharmed back
to the Romans. The matter escaped my mind till now, though, in
truth, I bade my secretary write to him to say that I would
befriend you. But it is strange that, having so much life and
spirit in that great body of yours, you should yet hold life so
cheaply. It was the way with our forefathers, but it is not so
now, perhaps because our life is more pleasant than theirs was.
Tell me, has Phaon done all to make you comfortable? Is there
aught else that you would wish? if so, speak freely.”

“There is one thing I should like, Caesar; I should like to
have with me my follower Boduoc, he who was the companion of my
boyhood, who fought with me in that hut against the wolves, and
was ever by my side in the struggle among our fens. I ask this
partly for my own sake, and partly that I may the better do the
duty you have set me of acting as your guard. The air of palaces
is heavy, and men wake not from sleep as when they lie down in
the forest and carry their lives in their hands. I might not hear
your call; but with him with me we could keep alternate watch
through the night, and the slightest sounds would reach our ears.
We could even take post close to the hangings of your chamber,
just as the Praetorians guard all the avenues on the other side.
I might even go further. There were twenty of my countrymen
brought hither with me. All are picked men, not one but in
strength and courage is my equal. I would say, place them in
offices in the palace; make them door keepers, or place some of
them here as labourers under your gardeners, then at all times
you would have under your orders a body of twenty devoted men,
who would escort you in safety though half Rome were in tumult.
They would sleep together among the slaves, where I could
instantly summon them. I can answer for their fidelity, they
would follow me to the death against any foe I bade them
attack.”

“It is an excellent idea, Beric, and shall be carried out.
They were all sent to the ludi, if I mistake not, and will have
skill as well as strength and courage. I will bid my secretary
send an order for their discharge, and that they present
themselves to Phaon tomorrow. He will find occupations for them,
and I will myself bid him so dispose of them that they shall be
well satisfied with their appointments. Truly, as you say, a
guard of twenty gladiators of your strength and courage might
well defend me against a host. Now it is time that I went to my
bath.”

Upon the following day the British captives were all disposed
as door keepers in the palace. Beric was present when they
presented themselves before Phaon, and had afterwards a private
interview with them. They were delighted at finding that they
were again under his leadership. All hated as much as ever the
occupation of gladiator, although only the man who had defeated
Lupus had as yet appeared in the arena.

“Your duties will be simple and easy,” Beric said. “You will
only have to see that no strangers pass you without authority.
Each of you will have one or more attendants with you, who will
take the names of those who present themselves to those whom they
wish to see, and will, on bringing an authorization for them to
pass, escort them to the person with whom they have business. Of
course the orders will be different at different posts, but these
you will receive from the officials of the chamberlain. You will
be on duty, as I learn, for six hours each day, and will for the
rest of the time be free to go where you please. I suppose by
this time all of you have learned sufficient Latin to converse
freely. Remember that at nine o’clock in the evening you must all
be in the palace. Phaon has arranged for an apartment that you
will occupy together. There you will keep your arms, and be
always ready, when you receive a message from me, to attend
prepared for fighting. There is one thing more: do not mingle
with the Romans more than you can help; listen to no tales
relating to the emperor, and let no man discuss with you any
question of state. Everything that is done in the palace is
known, and were you seen talking with any man who afterwards fell
under the suspicion of Nero it might cost you your lives.
Remember that, whatever may be the duties assigned to you here,
we are really assembled as a sort of special bodyguard to him; he
is our general. It is no business of ours what his private acts
may be. It may be that he is cruel to the powerful and wealthy,
but on the other hand he spends his money lavishly on the people
of Rome, and is beloved by them. If they as Romans do not resent
his acts towards senators and patricians it is no business of
ours, strangers and foreigners here, to meddle in the matter. It
may be that in time, if we do our duty well, Nero may permit us
to return to Britain.”

There was a murmur of approval.

“Nero may cut off the head of every man in Rome for what I
care,” Boduoc said. “I owe nothing to the Romans. They are all
our enemies, from the highest to the lowest; and if Nero is
disposed to be our friend he can do what he likes with them. But
I do wish he had given us something more to do than to hang about
his palace.”

Six months passed. Beric stood high in favour with Nero. Two
or three times, in order to test the vigilance of his guard, he
had sounded his bell. On each occasion an armed figure had
instantly entered his room, only to retire when he waved his
hand; so that the slave who slept at the other door found Nero
alone when he entered, and brought him a cooling drink, or
performed some other little office that served as an excuse for
his summons, the emperor being well aware how great would be the
jealousy of the Praetorian guard, were report to reach them that
Caesar had guards save themselves.

Beric often followed in the train of the emperor when he went
abroad; and as it speedily became known that he was a favourite
of Nero, his friendship was eagerly sought by those who
frequented the court, and his good offices solicited by those who
had requests to make of the emperor. Large sums of money had been
sometimes offered him for his good offices, but he steadily
refused to accept any presents whatever, or to mingle in the
affairs of others, except in very occasional cases, where it
seemed to him that those who sought his aid had been cruelly and
unfairly dealt with by officials or venal magistrates.

The sale of his jewels had brought him in a large sum of
money, which he had placed in the hands of Norbanus; and the
handsome appointments Nero had assigned to his office were very
much more than sufficient for his wants. He was always a welcome
guest at the house of Norbanus, and now that he was an official
high in favour with Nero, even Lesbia received him with marked
courtesy. The conversation always turned, when the ladies were
present, upon general topics–the gossip of society in Rome,
news from the provinces, and other similar matters, for Beric
begged them not to speak of the serious events of the day.

“I am one of Nero’s guards, and I do not want to have to hate
my work, or to wish well to those from whom I am bound to protect
him. To me he is kind and friendly. At times when I am with him
in the garden or alone in his room he talks to me as an equal, of
books and art, the condition of the people, and other topics.

“It seems to me that there are two Neros: the one a man such
as he was when he ascended the throne–gentle; inclined to
clemency; desirous of the good of his people, and of popularity;
a lover of beautiful things; passionately devoted to art in all
its branches; taking far greater pleasure in the society of a few
intimate friends than in state pageants and ceremonies. There is
another Nero; of him I will not talk. I desire, above all things,
not to know of him. I believe that he has been driven to this war
upon many of the best and worthiest in Rome, by timidity. He is
suspicious. Possibly he has reason for his suspicions; possibly
they are unfounded. I do not wish to defend him. All this is a
matter for you Romans, and not for me. I wish to know nothing
about it; to leave all public matters to those they may concern;
to shut my eyes and my ears as much as I can to all that goes on
around me. It is for that reason that I go so little to other
houses save this. I meet those about the court at the baths, the
gymnasium, and in the streets. But at these places men speak not
of public affairs, they know not who may be listening; and
certainly they would not speak before me. Happily, as I am known
to stand high in Caesar’s favour, I am the last person to whom
they would say aught in his blame. Thus it is that, though
sometimes I come, from chance words let fall, to know that
proscriptions, accusations, confiscations, and executions take
place; that the Christians are still exposed to horrible
persecutions and tortures; that a gloom hangs over society, and
that no man of wealth and high station can regard himself as
safe, it is only a vague rumour of these things that I hear; and
by keeping my ears sealed and refusing to learn particulars, to
listen to private griefs and individual suffering, I am still
able to feel that I can do my duty to Caesar.”

Norbanus and Lesbia alike agreed with Beric’s reasoning; the
former, indeed, himself took but comparatively little interest in
what passed around him. The latter was, on the other hand,
absorbed in the politics of the hour. She was connected with many
noble families, and knew that a member of these might fall at any
moment under Nero’s displeasure. To have a friend, then, high in
the favour of Nero was a matter of great importance; and she
therefore impressed upon all her intimates that when they found
Beric at her house they should scrupulously avoid all discussion
of public affairs.

CHAPTER
XVII: BETROTHAL

Nero had, within a short time of Beric’s establishment in the
palace, spoken to him of his apprehension of the increasing power
of the party who, having reverted to the opinions of the Stoic
philosophers, were ever denouncing the luxury and extravagance of
modern ways, and endeavouring, both by example and precept, to
reintroduce the simplicity and severity of former times.

“All this,” Nero said angrily, “is of course but a cloak under
which to attack me. Piso and Plautus, Seneca and Lucan, do but
assume this severity of manners. They have plotted and intrigued
against me. I shall never be safe while they live.”

“Caesar,” Beric said gravely, “I am but a soldier, but born a
free Briton and a chief. I cannot sell my service, but must give
it loyally and heartily. You honour me with your favour and
confidence; I believe that I am worthy of it. I do not serve you
for money. Already I have begged you not to heap presents upon
me. Wealth would be useless to me did I desire it. Not only have
you offered to bestow estates upon me, but I have learned already
that there are many others who, seeing that I am favoured by you,
would purchase my friendship or my advocacy by large sums. I
should despise myself if I cared for money. You would, I know
honour me not only with your trust that I can be relied upon to
do my duty as your guard, but by treating me as one in your
confidence in other matters. At the risk, then, of exciting your
displeasure and forfeiting your favour, I must again pray you not
to burden me with state matters. Of these I know nothing, and
wish to know nothing. Save that of Seneca, I scarce know the
names of the others of whom you have spoken. I am wholly ignorant
of the intrigues of court life, and I seek to know nothing of
them, and am therefore in no position to give any opinion on
these matters; and did I speak from only partial knowledge I
should do these men great wrong.

“In the next place, Caesar, I am not one who has a double
face, and if you ask my opinion of a matter in which I thought
that others had ill advised you, I should frankly say that I
thought you were wrong; and the truth is never palatable to the
great. I try, therefore, to shut my ears to everything that is
going on around me, for did I take note of rumours my loyalty to
you might be shaken.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Nero said, after a long pause. “But
tell me, once and for all, what you do think on general matters.
It is good to have the opinion of one whom I know to be
honest.”

“On one subject only are my convictions strong, Caesar. I
think that the terrible persecution of the Christians is in
itself horrible, and contrary to all the traditions of Rome.
These are harmless people. They make no disturbances; they do
injury to no one; they are guilty of no act that would justify in
any way the tortures inflicted upon them. I am not a Christian, I
know nothing of their doctrines; but I am unable to understand
how one naturally clement and kind hearted as you are can give
way to the clamour of the populace against these people. As to
those of whom you speak, and others, I have no opinions; but were
I Caesar, strong in the support of the Praetorian guards, and in
the affection of the people at large, I would simply despise
plotters. The people may vaguely admire the doctrines of the
Stoics, but they themselves love pleasure and amusements and
spectacles, and live upon your bounty and generosity. There can
then be nothing to fear from open force. Should there be
conspirators who would attempt to compass their ends by
assassination, you have your guards to protect you. You have
myself and my little band of countrymen ready to watch over you
unceasingly.”

“No care and caution will avail against the knife of the
assassin,” Nero said gloomily. “It is only by striking down
conspirators and assassins that one can guard one’s self against
their weapons. Julius Caesar was killed when surrounded by men
whom he deemed his friends.”

Beric could not deny the truth of Nero’s words. “That is true,
Caesar, and therefore I do not presume to criticise or even to
have an opinion upon acts of state policy. These are matters
utterly beyond me. I know nothing of the history of the families
of Rome. I know not who may, with or without reason, deem that
they have cause of complaint against you, or who may be hostile
to you either from private grievances or personal ambitions, and
knowing nothing I wish to know nothing. I desire, as I said when
you first spoke to me, to be regarded as a watchdog, to be
attached to you by personal kindness, and to guard you night and
day against conspirators and assassins. I beseech you not to
expect more from me, or to deem it possible that a Briton can be
qualified to give any opinion whatever as to a matter so alien to
him as the intrigues and conspiracies of an imperial city. Did I
agree with you, you would soon doubt my honesty; did I differ
from you, I should incur your displeasure.”

Nero looked up at the frank countenance of the young
Briton.

“Enough,” he said smiling, “you shall be my watchdog and
nothing more.”

As time went on Nero’s confidence in his British guard
steadily increased. He had his spies, and knew how entirely Beric
kept himself aloof from intimate acquaintanceship with any save
the family of Norbanus, and learned, too, that he had refused
many large bribes from suitors. For a time, although he knew it
not, Beric was constantly watched. His footsteps were followed
when he went abroad, his conversations with others in the baths,
which formed the great centres of meeting, and stood to the
Romans in the place of modern clubs, were listened to and noted.
It was observed that he seldom went to convivial gatherings, and
that at any place when the conversation turned on public affairs
he speedily withdrew; that he avoided all display of wealth,
dressed as quietly as it was possible for one in the court circle
to do, and bore himself as simply as when he had been training in
the ludus of Scopus. There he still went very frequently,
practising constantly in arms with his former companions,
preferring this to the more formal exercises of the gymnasium.
Thus, after a time, Nero became confirmed in his opinion of
Beric’s straightforward honesty, and felt that there was no fear
of his being tampered with by his enemies.

One result of this increased confidence was that Beric’s hours
of leisure became much restricted, for Nero came to require his
attendance whenever he appeared in public. With Beric and Boduoc
among the group of courtiers that followed him, the emperor felt
assured there was no occasion to fear the knife of the assassin;
and it was only when he was at the baths, where only his most
chosen friends were admitted, or during the long carousals that
followed the suppers, that Beric was at liberty, and in the
latter case Boduoc was always near at hand in case of need.

Nero’s precautions were redoubled after the detection of the
conspiracy of Piso. That this plot was a real one, and not a mere
invention of Nero to justify his designs upon those he hated and
feared, is undoubted. The hour for the attempt at assassination
had been fixed, the chief actor was prepared and the knife
sharpened. But the executions that followed embraced many who had
no knowledge whatever of the plot. Seneca was among the victims
against whom there was no shadow of proof.

After the discovery of this plot Beric found his position more
and more irksome in spite of the favour Nero showed him. Do what
he would he could not close his ears to what was public talk in
Rome. The fabulous extravagances of Nero, the public and
unbounded profligacy of himself and his court, the open defiance
of decency, the stupendous waste of public money on the new and
most sumptuous palace into which he had now removed, were matters
that scandalized even the population of Rome. Senators,
patricians, grave councillors, noble matrons were alike willingly
or unwillingly obliged to join in the saturnalia that prevailed.
The provinces were ruined to minister to the luxury of Rome. The
wealth of the noblest families was sequestrated to the state. All
law, order, and decency were set at defiance.

To the Britons, simple in their tastes and habits, this
profusion of luxury, this universal profligacy seemed absolutely
monstrous. When they met together and talked of their former life
in their rude huts, it seemed that the vengeance of the gods must
surely fall upon a people who seemed to have lost all sense of
virtue, all respect for things human and divine. To Beric the
only bearable portions of his existence were the mornings he
spent in reading, and in the study of Greek with Chiton, and in
the house of Norbanus. Of Lesbia he saw little. She spent her
life in a whirl of dissipation and gaiety, accompanying members
of her family to all the fetes in defiance of the wishes of
Norbanus, whose authority in this matter she absolutely set at
naught.

“The emperor’s invitations override the authority of one who
makes himself absurd by his presumption of philosophy. I live as
do other Roman ladies of good family. Divorce me if you like; I
have the fortune I brought you, and should prefer vastly to go my
own way.”

This step Norbanus would have taken but for the sake of
Aemilia. By his orders the latter never went abroad with her
mother or attended any of the public entertainments, but lived in
the quiet society of the personal friends of Norbanus. Lesbia had
yielded the point, for she did not care to be accompanied by a
daughter of marriageable age, as by dint of cosmetics and paint
she posed as still a young woman. Aemilia had long since
recovered her spirits, and was again the merry girl Beric had
known at Massilia.

One day when Beric called he saw that Norbanus, who was seldom
put out by any passing circumstance, was disturbed in mind.

“I am troubled indeed,” he said, in answer to Beric’s inquiry.
“Lesbia has been proposing to me the marriage of Rufinus Sulla, a
connection of hers, and, as you know, one of Nero’s intimates,
with Aemilia.”

Beric uttered an exclamation of anger.

“He is one of the worst of profligates,” he exclaimed. “I
would slay him with my own hand rather than that Aemilia should
be sacrificed to him.”

“And I would slay her first,” Norbanus said calmly; “but, as
Lesbia threatened when I indignantly refused the proposal,
Rufinus has but to ask Nero’s approval, and before his orders my
authority as a father goes for nothing. I see but one way. It has
seemed to me for a long time, Beric, that you yourself felt more
warmly towards Aemilia than a mere friend. Putting aside our
obligations to you for having risked your life in defence of
Ennia, there is no one to whom I would more willingly give her.
Have I been mistaken in your thoughts of her?”

“By no means,” Beric said. “I love your daughter Aemilia, but
I have never spoken of it to you for two reasons. In the first
place I shall not be for some years of the age at which we
Britons marry, and in the second I am but a captive. At present I
stand high in the favour of Nero, but that favour may fail me at
any day, and my life at the palace is becoming unbearable; but
besides, it is impossible that this orgy of crime and debauchery
can continue. The vengeance of heaven cannot be much longer
delayed. The legions in the provinces are utterly discontented
and well nigh mutinous, and even if Rome continues to support
Nero the time cannot be far off when the legions proclaim either
Galba, or Vespasian, or some other general, as emperor, and then
the downfall of Nero must come. How then could I ask you for the
hand of Aemilia, a maiden of noble family, when the future is all
so dark and troubled and my own lot so uncertain?

“I cannot raise my sword against Caesar, for, however foul his
crimes, he has treated me well. Had it not been for that I would
have made for Praeneste, when the gladiators rose there the other
day, and for the same reason I can do nothing to prepare the way
for a rising here. I know the ludus of Scopus would join to a
man. There is great discontent among the other schools, for the
people have become so accustomed to bloodshed that they seem
steeled to all pity, and invariably give the signal for the
despatch of the conquered. As to your offer, Norbanus, I thank
you with all my heart; but were it not for this danger that
threatens from Rufinus, I would say that at the present time I
dare not link her lot to mine. The danger is too great, the
future too dark. It seems to me that the city and all in it are
seized with madness, and above all, at the present time, I would
not for worlds take her to the palace of Nero. But if Aemilia
will consent to a betrothal to me, putting off the period of
marriage until the times are changed, I will, with delight,
accept the offer of her hand, if she too is willing, for in
Briton, as in Gaul, our maidens have a voice in their own
disposal.”

Norbanus smiled. “Methinks, Beric, you need not fear on that
score. Since the day when you fought the lion in the arena you
have been her hero and the lord of her heart. Even I, although
but short sighted as to matters unconnected with my work, could
mark that, and I believe it is because her mother sees and fears
it that she has determined to marry her to Rufinus. I will call
her down to find out whether she is ready to obey my wishes.”

In a minute or two Aemilia came down from the women’s
apartments above.

“My child,” Norbanus said, “I have offered you in marriage to
Beric. He has accepted, saving only that you must come to him not
in obedience to my orders but of your own free will, since it is
the custom of his country that both parties should be equally
free of choice. What do you say, my child?”

Aemilia had flushed with a sudden glow of colour as her father
began, and stood with downcast eyes until he had finished.

“One moment before you decide, Aemilia,” Beric said. “You know
how I am situated, and that at any moment I may be involved in
peril or death; that life with me can scarcely be one of ease or
luxury, and that even at the best you may be an exile for ever
from Rome.”

She looked up now. “I love you, Beric,” she said. “I would
rather live in a cottage with you for my lord and master than in
a palace with any other. I would die with you were there need.
Your wishes shall always be my law.”

“That is not the way in Britain,” Beric said, as he drew her
to him and kissed her. “The husband is not the lord of his wife,
they are friends and equals, and such will we be. There is honour
and respect on both sides.”

“It will be but your betrothal at present,” Norbanus said.
“Neither Beric nor I would like to see you in the palace of
Caesar; but the sponsalia shall take place today, and then he can
claim you when he will. Come again this evening, Beric. I will
have the conditions drawn up, and some friends shall be here to
witness the form of betrothal. This haste, child, is in order to
give Beric power to protect you. Were you free, Rufinus might
obtain an order from Nero for me to give you to him, but once the
conditions are signed they cannot be broken save by your mutual
consent; and moreover, Beric can use his influence with the
emperor on behalf of his betrothed wife, while so long as you
remain under my authority he could scarcely interfere did Nero
give his promise to Rufinus.”

“Will my mother be here?”

“She will not, nor do I desire her presence,” Norbanus said
decidedly. “She has defied my authority and has gone her own
path, and it is only for your sake that I have not divorced her.
She comes and she goes as she chooses, but her home is with her
family, not here. She has no right by law to a voice in your
marriage. You are under my authority and mine alone. It is but
right that a good mother should have an influence and a voice as
to her daughter’s marriage; but a woman who frequents the
saturnalia of Nero has forfeited her mother’s rights. It will be
time enough for her to hear of it when it is too late for her to
cause trouble. Now do you two go into the garden together, for I
have arrangements to make.”

At six o’clock Beric returned to the house. In the atrium were
gathered a number of guests; some were members of the family of
Norbanus, others were his colleagues in office–all were men of
standing and family. Beric was already known to most of them,
having met them at suppers at the house. When all were assembled
Norbanus left the room, and presently returned leading Aemilia by
the hand.

“My friends,” he said, “you already know why you are assembled
here, namely to be witnesses to the betrothal of my daughter to
Beric the Briton. Vitrio, the notary, will read the conditions
under which they are betrothed.”

The document was a formal one, and stated that Norbanus gave
up his potestas or authority over his daughter Aemilia to Beric,
and that he bound himself to complete the further ceremony of
marriage either by the religious or civil form as Beric might
select whenever the latter should demand it, and that further he
agreed to give her on her marriage the sum of three thousand
denarii, and to leave the whole of his property to her at his
death; while Beric on his part bound himself to complete the
ceremonies of marriage whenever called upon by Norbanus to do so,
and to pay him at the present time one thousand denarii on the
consideration of his signing the present agreement, and on his
delivering up to him his authority over his daughter.

“You have heard this document read, Norbanus,” the notary
said, when he had concluded the reading. “Do you assent to it?
And are you ready to affix your signature to the contract?”

“I am ready,” Norbanus said.

“And you, Beric?”

“I am also ready,” Beric replied.

“Then do you both write your signatures here.”

Both signed, and four of the guests affixed their signatures
as witnesses. Norbanus then placed Aemilia’s hand in Beric’s.
“You are now betrothed man and wife,” he said. “I transfer to
you, Beric, my authority over my daughter; henceforth she is your
property to claim as you will.”

A minute later there was a sudden movement at the door, and
Lesbia entered in haste. “News has just been brought to me of
your intention, Norbanus, and I am here to say that I will not
permit this betrothal.”

“You have no voice or authority in the matter,” Norbanus said
calmly. “Legal right to interfere you never had. Your moral right
you have forfeited. The conditions have been signed. Aemilia is
betrothed to Beric.”

Lesbia broke out into passionate reproaches and threats, but
Norbanus advanced a step or two towards her, and said with quiet
dignity, “I have borne with you for her sake, Lesbia. Now that
she belongs to Beric and not to me, I need not restrain my just
indignation longer. I return your property to your hands.”

Lesbia stepped back as if struck. The words were the well
known formula by which a Roman divorced his wife. She had not
dreamed that Norbanus would summon up resolution to put this
disgrace upon her, and to bring upon himself the hostility of her
family. Her pride quickly came to her aid.

“Thanks for the release,” she said sarcastically; “far too
much of my life has already been wasted on a dotard, and my
family will see that the restitution of my property is full and
complete: but beware, Norbanus, I am not to be outraged with
impunity, and you will learn to your cost that a woman of my
family knows how to revenge herself.”

Then turning she passed out of the door, entered her lectica
and was carried away.

“I must apologize to you, my friends,” Norbanus said calmly,
“for having brought you to be present at an unpleasant family
scene, but I had not expected it, and know not through whom
Lesbia obtained the news of what was doing here. I suppose one of
the slaves carried it to her. But these things trouble not a
philosopher; for myself I marvel at my long patience, and feel
rejoiced that at last I shall be free to live my own life.”

“You have done well, Norbanus,” one of his colleagues said,
“though I know not what Nero will say when he hears of it, for
severity among husbands is not popular at present in Rome.”

“I can open my veins as Seneca did,” Norbanus said calmly;
“neither death nor exile have any terrors for me. Rome has gone
mad, and life for a reasoning being is worthless here.”

“I shall represent the matter to Nero,” Beric said, “and as it
is seldom that I ask aught of him, I doubt not he will listen to
me. When he is not personally concerned, Nero desires to act
justly, and moreover, I think that he can weigh the advantages of
the friendship of a faithful guard against that of his boon
companions. I will speak to him the first thing in the morning.
He frequently comes into the library and reads for an hour. At
any rate there is no chance of Lesbia being beforehand with me.
It is too late for her to see Rufinus and get him to approach
Nero tonight.”

“Let us talk of other matters,” Norbanus said, “all these
things are but transitory.” He then began to talk on his
favourite topic–the religions of the world, while Beric drew
Aemilia, who had been weeping since the scene between her
parents, into the tablinum.

“It is unlucky to weep on the day of your betrothal,
Aemilia.”

“Who could help it, Beric? Besides, as it is not for my own
troubles the omen will have no avail. But it is all so strange
and so rapid. This morning I was in trouble, alarmed at what my
mother told me of her intentions, fearful that my father, who has
so long yielded to her, would permit her to have her own way in
this also. Then came the great joy when he told me that he would
give me to you–that you, who of all men I thought most of, was
henceforth to be my lord. Then, just when my happiness was
complete, and I was formally bound to you, came my mother. Ennia
and I always loved our father most, he was ever thoughtful and
kind to us, while even as children our mother did not care for
us. As we grew up she cared still less, thinking only of her own
pleasures and friends, and leaving us almost wholly in charge of
the slaves; but it was not until Ennia was seized as a Christian
that I knew how little she loved us. Then she raved and stormed,
lamented and wept, not because of the fate of Ennia, not because
of the terrible death that awaited her, but because of the
disgrace it brought upon herself. Even after she was brought here
she scarce came in to see her, and loudly said that it would be
best for her to die. Lately, as you know, I have seen little of
her; she spends all her time abroad, has defied my father’s
authority; and brought grief and trouble upon him. Still, to a
daughter it is terrible that her mother should be divorced.”

“Let us not think of it now, Aemilia. Your father has acted,
as he always does, rightly and well. I know much more of what is
going on than you do, and I can tell you that Lesbia, who was so
jealous of the honour of her name when Ennia was concerned, is
bringing far greater dishonour upon her name by her own actions.
And now let us talk of ourselves. The act you have just done,
dear, may bring all sorts of sacrifices upon you. At any moment I
may be a fugitive, and, as you know, the families of those who
incur Nero’s wrath share in their disgrace; and if I am forced to
fly, you too may be obliged to become a fugitive.”

She looked up brightly. “I shall not mind any hardships I
suffer for your sake, Beric. Rome is hateful to me since Ennia
stood in the arena. I would rather share a hut with you among the
savage mountains of the north than a palace here.”

“I trust that trouble is still far distant, but I shall, as
soon as I can, find a retreat where, in case I fall under Nero’s
displeasure, you can lie hid until I can send for you.”

“I have such a retreat, Beric. Since Ennia’s death I have seen
a good deal of the Christians. Lycoris, you know, was captured at
the same time as Ennia, and was put to death by fire; but her
daughter, married to a freedman who had purchased her liberty
from my father, managed to escape with her husband when the place
was surrounded. I have met her several times since. She and her
husband are living hidden in the catacombs, where she tells me
many of their sect have taken refuge from the persecutions.

“The last time I saw her she said to me, ‘No one’s life is
safe in this terrible city, and none, however high in station,
can say that they may not require refuge. Should you need an
asylum, Aemilia, go to the house of a freedman, one Mincius,
living in the third house on the right of a street known as the
Narrow one, close behind the amphitheatre at the foot of the
Palatine Hill, and knock thrice at the door. When they open, say,
‘In the name of Christ,’ then they will take you in. Tell them
that you desire to see me, and that you are the sister of Ennia,
the daughter of Norbanus, and they will lead you to us. There is
an entrance to the catacombs under the house. As the sister of
Ennia you will be warmly received by all there, even although you
yourself may not belong to us. The galleries and passages are of
a vast extent and known only to us. There is no fear of pursuit
there.'”

“That is good news, Aemilia; it is sad that, but an hour
betrothed, we are forced to think of refuges, but it will be
happiness to me to know that if danger threatens, you have a
place of retreat. You see this ring; Nero himself gave it me;
mark it well, so that you may know it again. It is a figure of
Mercury carved on an amethyst. When you receive it, by night or
day, tarry not a moment, but wrap yourself in a sombre mantle
like that of a slave, and hie you to this refuge you speak of;
but first see your father, tell him where you are going and why,
so that he may fly too, if he choose.”

“He will not do that,” Aemilia said, “and how can I leave
him?”

“You must leave him because you belong to me, Aemilia, and
because you are acting on my orders. The danger to you is far
greater than to him. You are my wife, he only my father in law,
and they would strike at me first through you. Besides, there are
other reasons. Your father is a Roman of the old type, and like
Seneca and Plautus, and others of the same school, will deem it
no loss when the time comes to quit life. However, you will tell
him of the danger, and he must make his own choice. I shall beg
him to hand to you at once the money which I placed in his care
now a year ago. Do you hand it over to the woman you speak of,
and ask her to hide it away in the caves till you ask for it
again; these Christians are to be trusted. I have much money
besides, for Nero is lavishly generous, and it would anger him to
refuse his bounty. This money I have placed in several hands,
some in Rome, some elsewhere, so that if forced to fly I can at
any rate obtain some of my store without having to run into
danger.”

“One more question, Beric. Should I ever have to take refuge
among the Christians, and like Ennia come to love their
doctrines, would you be angered if I joined their sect? If you
would I will not listen to them, but will tell them that I cannot
talk or think of these things without my husband’s consent.”

“You are free to do as you like, Aemilia. Since Ennia died I
have resolved upon the first opportunity to study the doctrines
of these people, for truly it must be a wonderful religion that
enables those who profess it to meet a cruel death not only
without fear but with joy. You know Ennia said we should meet
again, and I think she meant that I, too, should become a
Christian. Ask the woman if I also, as a last resource, may take
refuge among them.”

“I will ask her, Beric; but I am sure they will gladly receive
you. Have you not already risked your life to save a
Christian?”

The other guests having now left, Norbanus joined them, and
Beric told him of the arrangements they had made in case of
danger. He warmly approved of them.

“It will be a relief to me as to you, Beric, to know that
Aemilia’s safety is provided for. As for myself, fate has no
terrors for me; but for you and her it is different. She is yours
now, for although but betrothed she is virtually your wife. You
have but to take her by the hand and to declare her your wife in
the presence of witnesses, and all is done. There is, it is true,
a religious ceremony in use only among the wealthier classes, but
this is rather an occasion for pomp and feasting, and is by no
means needful, especially as you have no faith in the Roman gods.
What are the rites among your own people, Beric?”

“We simply take a woman by the hand and declare her our wife.
Then there is feasting, and the bride is carried home, and there
is the semblance of a fight, the members of her family making a
show of preventing us; but this is no part of the actual rite,
which is merely public assent on both sides. And now I must be
going. Nero will be feasting for a long time yet; but Boduoc has
been on guard for many hours and I must relieve him. Farewell,
Norbanus; we have been preparing for the worst, but I trust we
shall escape misfortune. Farewell, my Aemilia!” and kissing her
tenderly Beric strode away to the palace of Nero.

He had not seen Boduoc since early morning, and the latter,
standing on guard outside the private entrance to Nero’s
apartments, greeted his arrival, “Why, Beric, I began to fear
that some harm had befallen you. I came in this morning after the
bath and found you had gone out. I returned again at six and
found your chamber again empty, but saw that you had returned
during my absence; I went on guard, and here have I been for four
hours listening to all that foolish singing and laughter inside.
How Caesar, who has the world at his command, can spend his time
with actors and buffoons, is more than I can understand. But what
has kept you?”

As there was no fear of his voice being heard through the
heavy hangings, Beric, to Boduoc’s intense surprise, related the
events of the day.

“So you have married a Roman girl, Beric! Well, I suspected
what would come of it when you spent half your time at the house
of Norbanus. I would rather that you had married one of our own
maidens; but as I see no chance of our return to Britain for
years, if ever, one could hardly expect you to wait for that. At
any rate she is the best of the Roman maidens I have seen. She
neither dyes her hair nor paints her face, and although she lacks
stature, she is comely, and is always bright and pleasant when I
have accompanied you there. I am inclined to feel half jealous
that you have another to love you besides myself, but I will try
and not grudge her a share of your affection.”

“Well, hand me your sword, Boduoc, and betake yourself to your
bed. I will remain on guard for the next four hours, or until the
feasting is over. Nero often opens the hangings the last thing to
see if we are watchful, and he likes to see me at my post. I wish
to find him in a good temper in the morning.”

The next morning, to Beric’s satisfaction, Nero came into the
library early. Chiton, as was his custom, retired at once.

“I was inspired last night, Beric,” the emperor said. “Listen
to these verses I composed at the table;” and he recited some
stanzas in praise of wine.

“I am no great judge of these matters, Caesar,” Beric said;
“but they seem to me to be admirable indeed. How could it be
otherwise, when even the Greeks awarded you the crown for your
recitations at their contests? Yesterday was a fortunate day for
me, also, Caesar, for Norbanus betrothed his daughter to me.”

The emperor’s face clouded, and Beric hastened to say:

“There is no talk of marriage at present, Caesar, for marriage
would interfere with my duties to you. Therefore it is only when
you have no longer an occasion for my services that the betrothal
will be converted into marriage. My first duty is to you, and I
shall allow nothing to interfere with that.”

Nero’s face cleared. “That is right,” he said graciously. “You
might have married better, seeing that you enjoy my favour; but
perhaps it is as well as it is. Norbanus is a worthy man and a
good official, although his ideas are old fashioned; but it is
reported of him that he thinks of nothing but his work, and mixes
himself up in no way in politics, living the life almost of a
recluse. It was one of his daughters you championed in the arena.
She died soon afterwards, I heard. Has he other children?”

“Only the maiden I am betrothed to, Caesar. He is now alone,
for his wife has long been altogether separated from him, being
devoted to gaiety and belonging to a family richer and more
powerful than his, and looking down upon her husband as a mere
bookworm. He has borne with her neglect and disobedience to his
wishes for a long time, and has shown, as it seemed to me, far
too great a weakness in exerting his authority; but his patience
has at last failed, and when yesterday, in defiance of him, she
would have interfered to prevent my betrothal to his daughter, he
divorced her.”

“Divorce is the fashion,” Nero said carelessly. “I know his
wife Lesbia, she has frequently been present with members of her
family at my entertainments. She is a fine woman, and I wonder
not that she and the recluse her husband did not get on well
together. She will soon be consoled.”

“I have mentioned it to you, Caesar, because she is a
revengeful woman, and might cause rumours unfavourable to her
husband to be reported to you. He is the most simple and single
minded of men, and his thoughts are entirely occupied, as you
say, with the duties of his office and with the learned book upon
which he has long been engaged; but although a philosopher in his
habits he holds aloof from all parties, and even in his own
family never discusses public affairs. Had it been otherwise, you
may be sure that I, your majesty’s attendant and guard, should
have abstained from visiting his house.”

“I know this to be the case, Beric. Naturally, when I first
placed you near my person, I was interested in knowing who were
your intimates, and caused strict inquiries to be made as to the
household of Norbanus and his associates; all that I heard was
favourable to him, and convinced me that he was in no way a
dangerous person.”

Nero left the room, and returned shortly bearing a casket.
“Give these jewels to your betrothed, Beric, as a present from
Caesar to the wife of his faithful guard.”

Beric thanked the emperor in becoming terms, and in the
afternoon carried the jewels, which were of great value, to
Aemilia.

“They are a fortune in themselves,” he said; “in case of
danger, take them from the casket and conceal them in your
garments. No one could have been more cordial than Nero was this
morning; but he is fickle as the wind, and when Rufinus and
others of his boon companions obtain his ear his mood may change
altogether.”

CHAPTER XVIII: THE OUTBREAK

It was not long, indeed, before Beric found that hostile
influences were at work. Nero was not less friendly in his
manner, but he more than once spoke to him about Aemilia.

“I hear,” he said one day, “that your betrothed is very
beautiful Beric.”

“She is very fair, Caesar,” Beric replied coldly.

“I know not how it is that I have not seen her at court,” Nero
continued.

“Her tastes are like those of her father,” Beric said. “She
goes but seldom abroad, and has long had the principal care of
her father’s household.”

“But you should bring her now,” Nero persisted. “The wife of
one of the officials of the palace should have a place at our
entertainments.”

“She is not at present my wife, Caesar, she is but my
betrothed; and as you have yourself excused me from attendance at
all entertainments, it would be unseemly for her, a Roman maiden,
though betrothed to me, to appear there.”

“There are plenty of other Roman maidens who appear there,”
Nero said pettishly. Beric made no reply, and the subject was not
again alluded to at that time; but the emperor returned to it on
other occasions, and Beric at last was driven to refuse point
blank.

“I am your majesty’s guard,” he said. “I watch you at night as
well as by day, and, as I have told your majesty, I cannot
perform my duties properly if I have to be present at your
entertainments. I should not permit my wife or my betrothed to be
present in public unless I were by her side. Your majesty took me
for what I was, a simple Briton, who could be relied upon as a
guard, because I had neither friends nor family in Rome, and was
content to live a simple and quiet life. I am willing to abstain
from marriage in order that I may still do my service as
heretofore; but if I have to attend entertainments, you cannot
rely upon my constant vigilance. It is for you to choose, Caesar,
whether you most require vigilant guards, who could be trusted as
standing aloof from all, or the addition of two persons to the
crowds you entertain. I am sure, Caesar,” he went on as the
emperor made no reply, “it is not yourself who is now speaking to
me; it is Rufinus, formerly a suitor for the hand of the daughter
of Norbanus, who has been whispering into your ear and abusing
the favour you show him. He dare not show his animosity to me
openly, for one who has conquered a lion would make but short
work of him. Your majesty, I pray you, let not the word of men
like this come between yourself and one you know to be faithful
to you.”

“You are right, Beric,” Nero said. “I will press you no
farther; it was but a passing thought. I had heard of the beauty
of your betrothed, and though I would see if she were as fair as
report makes her; but since you do not wish it to be so, it shall
not be spoken of again.”

But Beric knew enough of Nero to be aware that, like most weak
men, he was obstinate, and that Rufinus and his friends would not
allow the matter to drop. Every preparation was therefore made
for sudden flight. Aemilia was warned on no account to trust any
message she might receive purporting to be from him, and the
Britons in the palace, who were heartily sick of their monotonous
duty, were told to hold themselves in readiness for action. Beric
knew that he could depend on the slave who had been assigned to
him as an attendant. He was not the man who had at first served
him, and who, as Beric doubted not, had acted as a spy upon him.
When it was found that there was nothing to discover this man had
been removed for other work, and a slave boy of some seventeen
years old had taken his place. To him Beric had behaved with
great kindness, and the lad was deeply attached to him. He had
several times taken notes and messages to the house of Norbanus,
and Beric told Aemilia that when it became necessary to send her
the ring, he should probably intrust it to him.

A week later Boduoc was on guard at ten in the evening. In the
distant banqueting hall he could hear sounds of laughter and
revelry, and knowing the nature of these feasts he muttered
angrily to himself that he, a Briton, should be standing there
while such things were being done within. Suddenly he heard a
step approaching the hangings. They were drawn back, and one of
the court attendants said, “Caesar requires the attendance of
Beric the Briton in the banqueting hall.”

“I will tell him,” Boduoc said. “He will come directly.” Beric
was sitting reading when Boduoc entered and gave the message.

“This means mischief, Boduoc,” he said. “I have never been
sent for before to one of these foul carousals. Philo, come
hither!”

The lad, who was lying on a mat by the door, rose. “Philo,
take this ring. Follow me to the door of the banqueting room, and
stand behind the hangings. If I say ‘Run, Philo!’ carry out the
orders that I have before given you. Speed first to the room
where the Britons sleep, and tell them to arm and come up by the
private stairs to my room instantly. They know the way. They are
then to pass on through the passage and the next room and wait
behind the hangings, when Boduoc will give them orders. Directly
you have given my message speed to the house of Norbanus, and
demand in my name to see the lady Aemilia. If she has retired to
her room she must be roused. If the slaves make difficulty,
appeal to Norbanus himself. He will fetch her down to you. Give
her this ring, and say the time has come.”

“I will do it, my lord. Where am I to join you
afterwards?”

“I shall take the road to the Alban Hills first; I think that
if you are speedy, you may be on the Alban road before me. Now
follow me. Boduoc, do you come as far as the hangings of the
banqueting room, and stand there with Philo. You will be able to
hear what passes within. Do not enter unless I call you. Bring my
sword with you.”

Beric passed through two or three large apartments and then
entered the banqueting room. It was ablaze with lights. A dozen
men and as many women, in the scantiest costumes, lay on couches
along each side of the table. All were crowned with chaplets of
flowers, and were half covered with roses, of which showers had
fallen from above upon them. Nero lay on a couch at the end of
the table; his features were flushed with wine. Beric repressed
the exclamation of indignant disgust that rose to his lips, and
walking calmly up to Nero said coldly, “I am told that you want
me, Caesar.”

“I do, my fighter of lions,” Nero said unsteadily. “I would
see this paragon of whom Rufinus tells me, whom you guard so
jealously from my eyes. Send and fetch her hither. She will be a
worthy queen of our revels.”

“It is an honour to me to obey your majesty’s commands in all
matters that regard myself,” Beric said; “but in regard to my
promised wife, no! This is no place for a Roman lady; and even at
the risk of your displeasure, Caesar, I refuse to dishonour her
by bringing her into such an assembly.”

“I told you he would refuse, Caesar,” Rufinus, who was lying
on the couch next to Nero, laughed.

Nero was speechless with surprise and anger at Beric’s calm
refusal to obey his orders. “Do I understand,” he said at last,
“that you refuse to obey me?”

“I do, Caesar. It is not a lawful command, and I distinctly
refuse to obey it.”

“Then, by the gods, your life is forfeit!” Nero said, rising
to his feet.

“You may thank your gods, Caesar, that I have more sense of
honour than you. Were it otherwise, I would strike you dead at my
feet. But a British chief disdains to fight an unarmed foe, and I
who have eaten your bread and taken your wages am doubly bound
not to lift my hand against you.” Then he lifted his voice and
cried, “Run, Philo!”

The revellers by this time had all started to their feet.
Nero, shrinking backwards behind them, called loudly for help.
Rufinus, who had shown bravery in the wars, drew a dagger from
beneath his toga and sprang at Beric. The latter caught his
uplifted wrist, and with a sharp wrench forced him to drop the
weapon; then he seized him in his grasp. “You shall do no more
mischief, Rufinus,” he said, and raising him in his arms hurled
him with tremendous force against a marble pillar, where he fell
inert and lifeless, his skull being completely beaten in by the
blow.

The hall rang with the shrieks of women and the shouts of men.
There was a sound of heavy footsteps, and eight of the Praetorian
guards, with drawn swords, ran in on the other side of the
chamber. “Boduoc!” Beric shouted; and in a moment his follower
stood beside him and handed him his sword and buckler.

“Kill him!” Nero shouted frantically. “The traitor would have
slain me.”

Beric and Boduoc stepped back to the door by which they had
entered, and awaited the onset of the Praetorians. For a moment
these hesitated, for Beric’s figure was well known in the palace,
and not one of them but had heard of his encounter with the lion.
The emperor’s shouts, however, overcame their reluctance, and
shoulder to shoulder they rushed forward to the attack. Two fell
instantly, helmet and head cloven by the swords of the Britons,
who at once took the offensive and drove the others before them,
slaying three more and putting the others to flight. But the
success was temporary, for now a great body of the guard poured
into the room.

“Step back through the doorway, Boduoc,” Beric said; “their
numbers will not avail them then.”

The doors were ten feet in width. This gave room to but three
men to enter at once and use their arms to advantage, and for two
or three minutes the Britons kept the Praetorians at bay, eight
of them having fallen beneath their blows; then there was a
shout, and the Roman soldiers came running in at a door at the
end of the chamber. “Fall back to the next door,” Beric said; but
as he spoke there was a rush behind, and nineteen Britons ran
into the room, and uttering the war cry of the Iceni flung
themselves upon the Roman soldiers. These, taken by surprise at
the sudden appearance of these tall warriors, and ignorant of
what further reinforcements might be coming up, gave ground, and
were speedily beaten back, a score of them falling beneath the
Britons’ swords.

“Now retreat!” Beric cried as the room was cleared; “retreat
at full speed. Show them the way, Boduoc, by the staircase down
into the garden. Quick! there is not a moment to lose. I will
guard the rear.”

They ran down the passage, through Beric’s room, down a long
corridor, and then by stairs leading thence into the garden,
which was indeed a park of considerable size, with lakes,
shrubberies, and winding walks. The uproar in the palace was no
longer heard by the time they were halfway across the park; but
they ran at full speed until they reached a door in the wall. Of
this Beric had some time before obtained a key from the head
gardener, and always carried this about with him. As they stopped
they looked back towards the palace. Distant shouts could be
heard, and the lights of numbers of torches could be seen
spreading out in all directions.

Beric opened the door and locked it behind him when all had
passed out. “Now,” he said to his companions, “make your way down
to the road leading out to the Alban Hills. Break up and go
singly, so that you may not be noticed. It will be a good half
hour before the news of what has occurred is known beyond the
palace. Do not pass through the frequented streets, but move
along the dark lanes as much as possible. When half a mile beyond
the city we will reunite.”

An hour later the whole party were gathered beyond the city.
All were delighted to escape from what they considered slavery,
and the fact that they had again bucklers on their arms and
swords by their sides made them feel as if their freedom were
already obtained.

“This puts one in mind of old times,” Boduoc said joyously;
“one might think we were about to start on an expedition in the
fens. Well, they have taught us all somewhat more than we knew
before, and we will show them that the air of Rome has robbed us
of none of our strength. Where go we now, Beric?”

“First to the ludus of Scopus; I learned a week since that he
had taken his band out again to the Alban Hills for the hot
season. I believe that most of his men will join us, if not all.
As soon as the news is spread that we are in arms we could, if we
wished it, be joined by scores of gladiators from the other
schools. There are hundreds who would, if the standard of revolt
were raised, prefer dying fighting in the open to being slain to
gratify a Roman mob.”

“Ay, that there are,” put in another of the band. “I have
never ceased to lament that I did not fall that day on our island
in the fens.”

“Think you there will be pursuit, Beric?” another asked.

“No; the first thought of Nero will be to assemble all the
Praetorians for his protection; they will search the palace and
the park, expecting attack rather than thinking of pursuit. In
the morning, when they find that all is quiet, and that it is
indeed only us with whom there is trouble, they will doubtless
send parties of searchers over the country; but long before that
we shall be a day’s march ahead. My wish is to gain the
mountains. I do not want to head a great rebellion against
Rome–disaster would surely come of it at last, and I should have
only led men to their death. A hundred men is the outside number
I will take. With that number we may live as outlaws among the
mountains to the south; we could move so rapidly that large
forces could not follow us, and be strong enough to repulse small
ones. There is plenty of game among the hills, and we should live
as we did at home, chiefly by hunting.”

Just as they were approaching the hills a quick step was heard
behind them, and the lad Philo ran up.

“Ah, you have overtaken us, Philo! ’tis well, lad, for your
life would have been forfeited had you stayed in Rome.

“Well,” he asked, drawing him aside, “you saw the lady
Aemilia. What said she?”

“She said, ‘Tell my lord that I obey, but that I pray him to
let me join him and share his dangers if it be possible; but be
it tomorrow or five years hence, he will find me waiting for him
at the place he knows of.’ Norbanus was present when she spoke. I
told him what I had heard in the banqueting room, and he said
‘Beric has done rightly. Tell him that he has acted as a Roman
should do, but as Romans no longer act, caring less for their
honour than do the meanest slaves, and that I thank him for
having thus defended my daughter against indignity.’ He was glad,
he said, that his life would end now, for it was a burden to him
under such conditions. He gave me this bag of gold to bring to
you, saying that he should have no farther need for it, and that,
leaving in such haste, you would not have time to furnish
yourself with money. It is heavy,” the boy said. “I should have
caught you some time earlier, but twenty or more pounds’ weight
makes a deal of difference in a long run.”

On arriving at the house of Scopus Beric bade the others wait
without, and stepping over the slaves lying at the entrance, he
went quietly to the sleeping chamber of the lanista.

“Who is this?” Scopus asked as he entered.

“It is I, Beric; throw your mantle on and come outside with
me, Scopus. I would speak with you alone, and do not wish that
all should know that I have been here.”

“In trouble?” Scopus asked as they left the house. “Ay, lad, I
expected it, and knew that sooner or later it would come. What is
it?”

“Nero ordered me to fetch Aemilia to his foul carousal. I
refused. Rufinus, at whose instigation he acted, attacked me. I
hurled him against a pillar, and methinks he was killed, and then
Nero, in alarm for his life, called in the Praetorians. Boduoc
and my countrymen joined me, and we slew some thirty of them, and
then made our escape, and are taking to the mountains.”

“And you have come to ask my gladiators to join?” Scopus said
shortly.

“No,” Beric replied; “when I started I thought of so doing,
but as I walked hither I decided otherwise. It would not be fair
to you. Did I ask them some would join, I know, others might not.
The loss of their services I could make up to you; but if it were
known that we had been here, and that some of your band had
joined me, Nero’s vengeance would fall on you all.”

“I thank you, Beric; if some went I must go myself, for I dare
not remain, and though I wish you well, and hate the tyrant, I am
well off and comfortable, and have no desire to throw away my
life.”

“There is one I should like to take with me–Porus; we were
good friends when I was here, and I know that he hates this life
and longs to be free from it. He would have run away and joined
the gladiators when they rose at Praeneste had I not dissuaded
him. He could leave without the others knowing it, and in the
morning you might affect a belief that he has run away, and give
notice to the magistrate here and have him sought for. In that
way there would be no suspicion of his having joined us. I know
that he is valuable to you, being, I think, the best of your
troop, but I will pay you whatever price you place his services
at.”

“No, no,” Scopus said, “I will give him to you, Beric, for the
sake of our friendship, and for your consideration for me in not
taking the rest with you. I have done well by you and him. Stay
here and I will fetch him out to you; it may be that many will
desert both from me and the other lanistae when they hear that
you have taken to the mountains, but for that I cannot be blamed.
You have come far out of your way to come hither.”

“Yes, ’tis a long detour, but it will matter little. We shall
skirt round the foot of the hills, cross the Lyris below
Praeneste, and then make straight to the mountains. They will not
search for us in that direction, and we will take shelter in a
wood when day breaks, and gain the mountains tomorrow night. Once
there we shall be safe, and shall move farther south to the wild
hills between Apulia and Campania, or if it is too hot for us
there, down into Bruttium, whence we can, if it be needed, cross
into Sicily. I am not thinking of making war with Rome. We intend
to live and die as free men, and methinks that in the mountains
we may laugh at the whole strength of Rome.”

“You will find plenty of others in the same condition there,
Beric; escaped slaves and gladiators constantly make for the
hills, and there have been many expeditions against the bands
there, who are often strong enough to be a danger to the towns
near the foot of the mountains.”

“We are not going to turn brigands,” Beric said; “there is
game on the hills, and we are all hunters, and I have money
enough to pay for all else we require did we live there for
years. But fetch me Porus. We must be far from here by
daylight.”

Porus soon came out, much surprised at being suddenly roused
from sleep, and silently brought out of the house by Scopus. As
soon as Beric explained to him what had happened, he joyfully
agreed to join him, and stole in and fetched his arms. Then with
a hearty adieu to Scopus Beric placed himself at the head of his
band and struck off by the road to Praeneste. Walking fast they
arrived at the bank of the Lyris before daybreak, crossed the
river in a fisherman’s boat they found on the bank, and just as
daylight showed in the sky entered an extensive grove, having
walked over forty miles since leaving Rome. They slept during the
day, taking it by turns to watch at the edge of the wood, and
when it was again dark started afresh, and were, when morning
broke, high up on the slopes of the Apennines.

“I feel a free man again now,” Boduoc said. “It does not seem
to me that I have drawn a breath of fresh air since I entered
Rome; but fresh air, good as it is, Beric, is not altogether
satisfying, and I begin to feel that I have eaten nothing since I
supped the day before yesterday.”

“We will push on for another hour,” Beric said, “and then we
shall be fairly beyond the range of cultivation. At the last
house we come to we will go in and purchase food. Flour is the
principal thing we need; we shall have no difficulty in getting
goats from the herdsmen who pasture their animals among the
hills.”

An hour later Beric, with Boduoc and two of his followers,
went up to a farm house. The farmer and his servants ran into the
house, raising cries of alarm at the sight of the four tall armed
figures.

“Do not fear,” Beric said when he reached the door, “we are
not brigands, but honest men, who desire to pay for what we
need.”

Somewhat reassured, the farmer came out. “What does my lord
require?” he asked, impressed by a nearer view of Beric’s dress
and arms.

“How much flour have you in the house?” Beric asked, “and what
is the price of it?”

The farmer had three sacks of flour. “I will take them all,”
Beric said, “and three skins of wine if you have them. I would
also buy two sheep if you name me a fair price for the
whole.”

The farmer named a price not much above that which he would
have obtained in the market, and Beric also bought of him a
number of small bags capable of containing some fifteen or twenty
pounds of flour each. Then one of the men fetched up the rest of
the band; the flour was divided and packed in the small bags; the
sheep were killed and cut up; three of the men lifted the wine
skins on to their shoulders; the rest took the flour and meat,
and they marched away, leaving the farmer and his family
astounded at the appearance of these strange men with fair hair
and blue eyes, and of stature that appeared to them gigantic.

Still ascending the mountain the band halted in a forest. Wood
was soon collected and a fire lighted. The contents of one of the
bags was made into dough at a stream hard by, divided into cakes
and placed on red hot ashes, while the meat was cut up and hung
over the fire.

“We have forgotten drinking horns,” Beric said, “but your
steel cap, Porus, will serve us for a drinking cup for
today.”

After a hearty meal they lay down for some hours to sleep, and
then resumed their march. They were getting well into the heart
of the mountains when a figure suddenly appeared on a crag above
them.

“Who are you?” he shouted, “and what do you here in the
mountains?”

“We are fugitives from the tyranny of Rome,” Beric replied.
“We mean harm to no man, but those who would meddle with us are
likely to regret it.”

“You swear that you are fugitives,” the man called back.

“I swear,” Beric said, holding up his hand.

The man turned round and spoke to someone behind him, and a
moment later a party of fifteen men appeared on the crag and
began to descend into the ravine up which Beric’s band were
making their way.

“It is the Britons,” the leader exclaimed as he neared them.
“Why, Beric, is it you, tired already of the dignities of Rome?
How fares it with you, Boduoc?”

Beric recognized at once a Gaul, one of the gladiators of
Scopus, who had some months before fled from the ludus. In a
minute the two bands met. Most of the newcomers were Gauls, and,
like their leader, escaped gladiators, and as Beric’s name was
well known to all they saluted him with acclamations. Both
parties were pleased at the meeting, for, akin by race and
speaking dialects of the same language, they regarded each other
as natural allies.

“The life of an outlaw will be a change to you after Nero’s
palace, Beric,” Gatho, their leader, said.

“A pleasant change,” Beric replied. “I have no taste for
gilded chains. How do you fare here, Gatho?”

“There are plenty of wild boars among the mountains, and we
can always get a goat when they are lacking. There are plenty of
them wild all over the hills, escaped captives like ourselves. As
for wine and flour, we have occasionally to make a raid on the
villages.”

“I do not propose to do that,” Beric said; “I have money to
buy what we require; and if we set the villagers against us,
sooner or later they will lead the troops after us up the
mountains.”

“I would gladly do that too, but the means are lacking. We owe
the peasants no ill will, but one must live, you know.”

“Have you any place you make your headquarters?”

“An hour’s march from hence; I will lead you to it.”

The united bands continued to climb the hills, and on emerging
from the ravine Gatho led them for some distance along the upper
edge of a forest, and then turned up a narrow gorge in the
hillside with a little rivulet running down it. The ravine
widened out as they went up it, till they reached a spot where it
formed a circular area of some hundred and fifty feet in
diameter, surrounded on all sides by perpendicular rocks, with a
tiny cascade a hundred feet in height falling into it at the
farther end. Some rough huts of boughs of trees were erected near
the centre.

“A good hiding place,” Beric said, “but I see no mode of
retreat, and if a peasant were to lead a party of Romans to the
entrance you would be caught in a trap.”

“We have only been here ten days,” Gatho said, “and never stop
long in one place; but it has the disadvantage you speak of.
However, we have always one or two men posted lower down, at
points where they can see any bodies of men ascending the hills.
They brought us notice of your coming when you were far below, so
you see we are not likely to be taken by surprise, and the Roman
soldiers are not fond of night marches among the mountains.”

As it was some hours since the Britons had partaken of their
meal they were quite ready to join the Gauls in another, and the
carcass of a wild boar hanging up near the huts was soon cut up
and roasting over a fire, the Britons contributing wine and flour
to the meal. After it was over there was a long talk, and after
consulting together Gatho and his band unanimously agreed in
asking Beric to take command of the whole party.

“We all know you, Beric,” Gatho said. “None could like you
have fought a lion barehanded, and I know that there was no one
in the ludus who was your match with the sword, while Boduoc and
the other five were infinitely superior to any of us in strength.
Besides, you are well versed in Roman ways, and have led an army
against them, therefore we all are ready to accept you as our
leader and to obey your orders if you will take us.”

“I will do so willingly, Gatho. I do not wish to have more
than fifty men with me, for it would be difficult to find
subsistence for a larger number. A hundred is the outside number,
and doubtless we shall be able to gather other recruits should we
choose to raise the band to that number; but all who follow me
must obey me as implicitly as did my own tribesmen in our
struggle with the Romans, and must swear to do no harm to
innocent people, and to abstain from all violence and robbery. I
am ready to be a leader of outlaws but not of brigands. I desire
only to live a free life among the mountains. If the Romans come
against us we will fight against them, and the spoil we may take
from them is lawful booty, to be used in exchange for such things
as we may require. But with the peasants we will make friends,
and if we treat them well they will bring us news of any
expeditions that may be on foot for our capture. As I said I have
money enough to buy everything we want at present, and can obtain
more if necessary, so that there is no reason for us to rob these
poor people of their goods. Here we are too near Rome for them to
be disaffected, but further south we shall find them not
unwilling to aid us, for the provinces are ground into the dust
by the exactions necessary to pay for the cost of the rebuilding
of Rome and to support the extravagance of Nero.”

The Gauls cheerfully took the required oath.

“You, Gatho, will continue to act as my lieutenant with your
Gauls, Boduoc commands the Britons under me. It may be necessary
at times for the band to divide, as when game is scarce we may
find a difficulty in keeping together, especially if we recruit
our band up to a hundred. I am determined to have no malefactors
who have fled from justice nor riotous men among us. I should
prefer that they should be chiefly your countrymen, but we will
not refuse gladiators of other nations who have been captured as
prisoners of war. We want no escaped slaves among us. A man who
has once been a slave might try to buy his pardon and freedom by
betraying us. We will be free men all, asking only to live in
freedom among the mountains, injuring none, but determined to
fight and die in defence of that freedom.”

These sentiments were warmly welcomed by the Gauls. The next
day the number of men on the lookout was increased, and the band,
breaking up into small parties, scattered among the mountains in
pursuit of wild boars and goats. Some were to return, successful
or not, at night to the encampment, and on the following day to
take the place of those on watch, and relays were provided so
that during the week each would take a turn at that duty.

Never did men enjoy a week’s hunting with greater zest than
the Britons. To them life seemed to begin anew, and although the
skies were bluer and the mountains higher and rougher than those
of Britain, it seemed to them that they were once again enjoying
their native air, and of an evening rude chants of Gaul and
Britain echoed among the rocks.

Porus, the Syrian, stood somewhat apart from the rest, not
understanding the tongue of the others, and he therefore became
naturally the special companion of Beric; for having been six
years in Rome he spoke Latin fluently.

“It is I who must go down to get you news, Beric,” he said one
day. “You Britons could not disguise yourselves, for even if you
stained your cheeks and dyed your hair your blue eyes and your
height would betray you at once. The Gauls, too, though shorter
than you, are still much taller and broader men than the Romans,
and there are none of them who speak the language well enough to
ask a question without their foreign tongue being detected. I am
about the height of the Romans, and am swarthier than the Gauls,
and could, if I borrowed the dress of one of the goatherds, pass
among them without notice. It would certainly be well, as you
were saying, to know what is being done below, and whether there
is any idea of sending troops up into the mountains to search for
us.

“You may be sure that after the scare you gave Nero, and the
defeat of his guards, the matter will not be allowed to drop, and
that they will search all Italy for you. I should think that, at
first, they will seek for you in the north, thinking that you
would be likely, after taking to the hills–which you would be
sure to do, for such a party could never hope to traverse the
plains unnoticed–to keep along the chain to the north, cross
the Cisalpine plains, and try the passage of the great
mountains.”

“At any rate it will be well, Porus, to know what they are
doing. If they are at present confining their search to the
northern range we can stay where we are with confidence. I should
be sorry to move, for we are well placed here; there is good
water and game is abundant. We certainly shall soon lack wine,
but for everything else we can manage. We have meat in abundance,
and have flour to last for some time, for both we and the Gauls
eat but little bread; besides, if pushed, we can do as the
peasants do, pound up acorns and beechnuts and make a sort of
bread of them.”

“Very well, Beric, I will go down tomorrow.”

Early in the morning, however, two of the men on sentry came
in and said that they observed the glitter of the sun on
spearhead and armour far down the hillside.

“If they are after us,” Beric said, “as I expect they are,
they have doubtless learned that we are somewhere in this part of
the mountains from the man of whom we bought the wine and flour.
I don’t suppose he intended to do us harm, but when he went down
to purchase fresh supplies he may well have mentioned that a
party of strong men of unusual height, and with fair hair, had
bought up his stock, paying for it honestly, which would perhaps
surprise him more than anything. If the news had come to the ears
of any of the officials, they, knowing the hue and cry which was
being made for us, would have sent word at once to Praeneste or
Rome. We must at once recall those who are away. Philo, take a
couple of brands and go and light the signal fire.”

A pile of dry wood had been placed in readiness upon a
projecting rock a mile away and standing in position where it was
visible from a considerable extent of the hillside. It had been
settled that the parties of hunters who did not return at
nightfall should occasionally send one of their number to a point
whence he could get a view of the beacon.

“Directly the pile is well alight, Philo, pluck up green
bushes and tufts of grass and throw upon it, so as to make as
much smoke as possible.”

There were eighteen men in the encampment, and four out on
guard. Boduoc and Gatho were both away, and as soon as Philo had
started with the brands Beric and Porus set out with the two
scouts.

“That was where we saw them,” one of them said, pointing far
down the hillside, “but by this time they will no doubt have
entered the wooded belt.”

“We must find out something about their numbers,” Beric said.
“Not that I wish to fight; for were we to inflict losses upon
them they would more than ever make efforts to overtake us.
Still, it will be as well to know what force they may think
sufficient to capture us.”

“I will go down through the forest,” Porus said, “doubtless
they will have some light armed troops with the spearmen; but
they must be fleet indeed if they overtake me after all my
training.”

“Do not let them see you if you can help it, Porus, or they
will follow close behind you, although they might not overtake
you, and that might bring on a fight.”

“I will be careful;” and leaving his buckler behind him, Porus
started on his way down the mountain.

In an hour and a half he returned. “I have had a good view of
them,” he said; “they have halted at the place where we got the
flour. There are a hundred heavy armed troops and a hundred
archers and slingers.”

“They have come in strength,” Beric said; “it shows that they
do not hold the Britons cheaply. We will return at once to the
camp. By this time the hunters should be back.”

Sending one of the men to call in the other sentries, they
returned to the huts. Boduoc, with a party of ten men, had
already come in, and said that they had seen Gatho’s party making
their way down from a point high up in the mountains.

“We will pause no longer,” Beric said, “we shall meet them as
they descend; take the flour and what little wine remains, and
let us be going. Scatter the fire and extinguish the brands;
unless they have found some goatherd who has marked us coming and
going, they may not find this place. I hope they will not do so,
as it would encourage them by the thought that they had nearly
captured us.”

The party had ascended the mountain half a mile when they met
Gatho returning.

“I like not to retreat without fighting,” he said, when he had
heard from Beric of the coming of the Romans and their force;
“but I agree with you that it is better not to anger them
farther.”

“I want three of the fleetest footed of your men, Gatho, to
stay behind with Porus and watch them, themselves unseen. We will
cross over the crest of the hills to the eastern side, Porus. Do
you mark that tall craig near the summit; you will find one of us
there, and he will lead you to our camping place. I want to know
whether the Romans, after spending the day searching the hills,
go back through the forest, or whether they encamp here. In the
one case we can return, in the other it will be better to move
south at once. We could laugh at their heavy armed spearmen, but
their archers and slingers carry no more weight than we do, and
would harass us sorely with their missiles, which we have no
means of returning.”

As soon as the men to remain with Porus were chosen, the rest
of the band proceeded on their way.

CHAPTER XIX:
OUTLAWS

It was late at night before Porus with the three Gauls joined
the rest of the band in their new encampment on the eastern slope
of the hills.

“As soon as the moon rises, Beric, we must be up and moving.
The Romans are in earnest. When they came through the forest they
ascended for some little distance, and then the spearmen halted
and the light armed troops scattered in parties of four searching
the country like dogs after game. They were not very long before
they discovered signs of us, whether footmarks or broken twigs I
know not, but following them they soon came upon the entrance of
the ravine. No doubt our marks were plain enough there, for the
spearmen were brought down. What happened then I know not; no
doubt they entered and found that we had gone. At any rate, in a
short time they set out briskly up the mountain, the spearmen as
before keeping together, and the light armed men scattering.

“All day they searched, and it was well that you crossed the
crest. They halted for the night halfway between the forest and
the summit, and I determined to learn something of their
intentions. So after it was dark I laid aside my arms and crawled
into the camp. The ground was broken and rough, and there was no
great difficulty in getting close to their fires. I learned that
the whole of the legion at Praeneste had been sent into the
mountains, and that there were twenty parties of equal force;
they were but a mile and a half apart, and considered that they
could search every foot of the ground for thirty miles along, and
would assuredly discover us if we were still in this part. More
than that, troops from Corfinium and Marrubium had started to
search the eastern slopes, and between them they made sure that
they should catch you, now that they had found, by the heat of
the earth where our fire had been, that we must have been there
but an hour or so before their arrival.”

“If that is the case we must make our way to the south at
once,” Beric said. “It is well indeed that we decided to retreat
without fighting, for had we retired, closely pursued by their
archers, their shouts would certainly have been heard by some of
the other parties. It is fortunate we did not light a fire; had
we done so it might have brought some of the troops from
Marrubium, which cannot be far distant from here, upon us. The
moon will not be up for three hours yet, and it is useless to try
to make our way among these mountains until we have her light,
therefore let all lie down to sleep; I will keep guard and will
rouse you when it is time to move.”

Beric sat listening intently for any sound that would tell of
the approach of foemen. He had, however, but small fear that the
Romans were moving at present. It would be even more difficult
for them than for his men to make their way about in the
darkness; besides, the day must have been an extremely fatiguing
one for them. They had, doubtless, started long before dawn, had
had to climb the mountains, and had been all day on their feet.
They would scarcely recommence the search before morning. Easy on
this score, his thoughts turned to Rome. That Aemilia had gained
the shelter of the Catacombs he had no doubt, and he wondered how
she fared there among the Christian fugitives. As to Norbanus he
had but slight hopes of ever seeing him alive. Nero’s vengeance
always extended to the families of those who offended him, and
Norbanus would certainly be held responsible for the flight of
Aemilia. He thought it indeed probable that as soon as Aemilia
left, Norbanus would have called his friends together, and,
having opened his veins, would die as Piso had done discussing
philosophy with them.

As soon as the moon was fairly up he aroused his companions
and they started along the hillside. It was difficult work making
their way on, now descending into a deep ravine, now climbing a
rugged slope, now passing along a bare shoulder. There was no
pause until day broke, when they descended into a gorge and lay
down among some clumps of bushes, one man being sent half a mile
down while two others were posted on each side of the ravine.
They had good reason for hope, however, that they had got beyond
the point to which the searching parties would extend on the
eastern side of the hill. The day passed without alarms, although
the sentries above more than once heard the sounds of distant
trumpets. As soon as the sun set they continued their way,
halting again until the moon rose, and then keeping south until
daybreak.

They were sure now that they were far beyond the parties of
Romans, but after a few hours’ sleep they again pressed on, and
at night lighted their fires and prepared for a longer stay. But
the orders of Nero were so imperative that the troops, having
thoroughly searched the mountains at the point where they had
ascended them, united, and also moved south in a long line
extending from the summit of the hills to the lower edge of the
forest; and after two days’ halt the fugitives again moved south,
and continued their journey until they found themselves among the
wild and lofty hills of Bruttium.

But their numbers had swollen as they went, for the other
fugitive bands among the hills were also driven south by the
advance of the Romans, and it was a miscellaneous body of
gladiators, escaped slaves, and malefactors, in all over five
hundred strong, that crossed the mountains into Bruttium. There
was a general wish among them that Beric should take the command
of the whole. This, however, he absolutely declined to do, upon
the ground that it was impossible for so large a body of men to
keep together, as there would be no means of feeding them.
Scattered about they would find an ample supply of meat from the
wild goats, boars and semi-wild swine, but together, they would
soon scare away the game. From among the gladiators, however, he
picked out sufficient men to raise his own force to a hundred
strong, and separating from the rest he led them, guided by a
charcoal burner, to one of the wildest and most inaccessible
points in the promontory.

Here they were safe from pursuit. Bruttium, now called
Calabria, is a chain of rugged hills, at that time thickly
covered with wood, and although it was possible fairly to search
the Apennines in the centre of Italy with six or seven thousand
men, a large army would fail to find a band of fugitives in the
recesses of the mountains of the south. On the evening of their
arrival at the spot they determined to make their headquarters,
Beric held a sort of council of war, the whole of the band, as
was the custom both in Gaul and Britain, joining in the
deliberations.

“So far,” Beric began, “we have retreated without fighting;
Rome cannot complain that we have been in insurrection against
her, we have simply acted as fugitives; but as there is nowhere
else whither we can retire, we must turn upon them if they again
pursue us. We must then regard this as our abode for a long time,
and make ourselves as comfortable as we can. Huts we can erect of
the branches of trees, the skins of the goats we kill will
provide us with bedding, and if needs be with clothing. Meat will
not fail us, for should game become scarce we can buy goats and
sheep from the shepherds who come up with their flocks and herds
from the villages by the sea. But besides this we need many
things for comfort. We must have utensils for cooking, and
drinking cups, and shall need flour and wine; we must therefore
open communications with one of the towns by the sea. This is the
great difficulty, because of all things I fear treachery; for
nigh a year we fought the Romans at home, and could have fought
them for twenty more had we not been betrayed and surrounded.

“Of that there will always be a danger. I have gold, and shall
always pay for what we require; but the other bands among these
hills will not be so scrupulous, and as, indeed, they will be
forced to take food, they will set the inhabitants against us,
and the Romans will have no difficulty in finding guides among
them. So long as we keep ourselves far apart from the rest we are
comparatively safe; but none of the natives must know of our
hiding place. Can anyone propose a good plan for obtaining
supplies?”

There was silence for some time. These men were all good for
fighting, but few of them had heads to plan. At last Porus
said:

“We are, as our guide tells me, but two hours’ journey from
the hills whence we may look down upon the gulf dividing Bruttium
from Sicily. The lower slopes of these hills are, he says,
closely cultivated. There are many small villages some distance
up on their sides, and solitary farms well nigh up to the crest.
It seems to me that we should use one of these farmers as our
agent. He must be a man with a wife and family, and these would
be hostages. If we told him that if he did our bidding he would
be well rewarded, while if unfaithful we would destroy his
farmhouse and slay his wife and children, I think we might trust
him. Two or three of us could go down with him to the town on the
seashore, dressed as men working under him, and help bring up the
goods he purchases. The quantity might excite suspicion did he
always go to the same place for them, but he need not always do
this. If we found it impossible to get enough by means of one
man, we might carry out this plan with three or four of them.
None of these men need know the direction of our camp; it would
suffice that the wine and flour were brought to their houses. We
could always send a strong party to fetch them thence as we
require them.”

“I do not think we can hit on any better plan, Porus;” and as
there was a murmur of assent he continued: “I propose, my
friends, that we appoint Porus the head of our victualling
department, and leave the arrangements to him entirely.”

This point was settled. The next morning Porus, taking three
of the gladiators who most resembled the natives in appearance,
started on his mission. He was completely successful. The farmers
on the upper slopes of the hills lived in terror of the banditti
among the mountains, and one was readily induced, by the offer of
a reward for his service, and of freedom from all molestation, to
undertake the business of getting up corn and wine. Henceforth
supplies of these articles were obtained regularly. Huts were
soon erected; the men were divided into hunting parties, and the
life of the fugitives passed quietly, and for a time without
incident.

The persons with whom Beric had deposited his money had all
been chosen for him by Norbanus. He himself had been too long
away from Italy to be acquainted with any outside the walls of
Rome; but among his friends there were several who were able to
recommend men of property and character to whom the money could
be committed with the certainty that it would be forthcoming
whenever demanded. At present Beric was amply supplied with
funds, for the money that Norbanus had sent to him would last for
at least a year; but, four months after reaching Bruttium, he
thought it would be as well to warn those in whose charge his own
stores had been placed, to hold it in readiness by them in case
it should be suddenly asked for. Philo seemed to him the only
person he could send on such a mission, and upon the more
important one of going to Rome and communicating with Aemilia. He
was certain of the fidelity of the lad, and, properly disguised,
he was less likely to be recognized in Rome than Porus would be.
Clothes such as would be worn by the son of a well to do
cultivator were obtained for him, and he was directed to take the
road along the coast to Rome, putting up at inns in the towns,
and giving out that he was on his way to the capital to arrange
for the purchase of a farm adjoining that of his father.

Letters were given him to the persons holding Beric’s money;
and one for the goldsmith in Rome, with whom a portion of the
money he had given for the jewellery that Beric had received at
the games was still deposited. This letter was not to be
delivered until he had been to the catacombs and seen Aemilia;
as, although Scopus had spoken very highly of the man, it was
possible that he might, to gain favour with Nero, hand over
Beric’s messenger to him. Beric fully impressed upon Philo the
risks he would run, and told him to make all his calls after
nightfall, and to be prepared for instant flight if he mistrusted
the manner of any of the men he visited.

“Do not be afraid, Beric,” Philo said; “I will not be taken
alive. I know that they would torture me to force me to lead them
to your hiding place, and I would rather die a thousand times
first. I was but a slave when I was allotted to you in the palace
of Nero. You have been kind to me, and trusted me. You have
allowed me to go with you, and have behaved to me as if I had
been free and one of your own people. I have my dagger, and if I
see that evil is intended me I will not wait until they lay hands
on me, for then my blow might fail, but will make sure. But
before I start give me full instructions what I am to say to the
Lady Aemilia; for however fully you may write, she will be sure
to want to know more, and, above all, instruct me what to do if
she demands to join you, and commands me to bring her here. This,
methinks, she is sure to do, and I must have your instructions in
the matter.”

“I shall tell her in my letter, Philo, that this is no place
for her, and that I cannot possibly have her here, among rough
men, where, at any moment, we may be called upon to make distant
and toilsome journeys, and even to fight for our lives.”

“That is all very well, my lord; but suppose she says to me it
is only because Beric thinks that I cannot support fatigue and
hardship that he does not send for me; but I am willing and ready
to do so, and I charge you, therefore, to take me to him.”

This was a point that Beric had many times thought over
deeply. He, too, felt sure that Aemilia would choose to be with
him; and accustomed as the Britons were for their wives to share
their perils, and to journey with them when they went on warlike
expeditions, it seemed to him that she had almost a right to be
with him. Then, too, her life must be dreary in the extreme, shut
up in caverns where the light of day never penetrated, in
ignorance of his fate, and cut off from all kinsfolk and friends.
The question so puzzled him that he finally took Porus into his
confidence, having a high idea of his good sense.

“She cannot come here,” Porus agreed; “but I do not see why
you should not bring her from that dismal place where you say she
is, and establish her near at hand, either at one of the upper
farmhouses, or in a town by the sea. Let me think it over. In an
hour I will tell you what seems to me the best plan. My counsel
is this,” he said, after he had been absent for an hour from the
hut, “I myself will go with the lad to fetch her. A Roman lady,
even though a fugitive, should not be travelling about the
country under the protection of a lad. I dare not go into Rome. I
am known to too many of the gladiators, and, disguise myself as I
might, I should be recognized before I had been there an hour. I
will obtain a dress such as would suit a respectable merchant; I
will go down to one of the ports below and take passage in a
trading craft bound for Ostia. There I will take lodgings, and
giving out that my daughter, who has been staying with friends
for her education in Rome, is about to return to Messina with me,
will purchase two or three female slaves. When she arrives with
Philo, who can pass as her brother and my son, we will take ship
and come down hither. I can then bring her up and place her in
the house of one of the farmers; or can, if you like, take a
house in the town, or lodge her there with people to whom one of
the farmers might recommend her. But, at any rate, she could come
up to one of the farm houses first, to see you, and then you
could arrange matters between you. She would really run no
danger. You say she went out but little in Rome, and it would be
ill luck indeed were there anyone on this coast who met her
there. If it were not for your preposterous height, your yellow
hair and blue eyes, there would be no difficulty about the matter
at all, for you would have but to cross the straits into Sicily,
to buy a small property there, and to settle down quietly; but it
is impossible with your appearance to pass as one of the Latin
race.”

“Besides,” Beric said, “I could not desert my comrades.
Whatever their lot may be, mine must be also. If we are ever to
escape, we must escape together; but for the rest, I think your
plan is a good one, Porus, and thank you heartily. When you get
to Ostia you will learn all that is going on in Rome, what has
befallen Norbanus, and other matters. If Norbanus is alive,
Aemilia will certainly be in communication with him by means of
the Christians, and will, of course, be guided by his
advice.”

The next day Porus and Philo set out together. Three weeks
passed, and then one morning Philo entered the camp.

“All has gone well, my lord, the Lady Aemilia is at the house
of the farmer Cornelius, with whom Porus arranged to receive her
on the morning we left you. She has sent no letter, for there
were no writing materials in the house, but she awaits your
coming.”

Beric hastened away at once, accompanied by the lad, who by
the way gave an account of his journey.

“It was as I thought,” he said. “When I came to the house you
told me of, I knocked as you instructed me, gave the ring to the
man within and begged him to take it to the Lady Aemilia. He at
first pretended that he knew nothing of such a person; but at
last, on my showing him the letter addressed to her, he said that
some friends of his might know where she was, and that if I
called again, two hours before midnight, he might have news of
her. When I came back the Lady Aemilia was there. She asked many
questions about your health before she opened your letter, the
one that you first wrote to her. When she had read it she said,
‘My lord bids me stay here, Philo, and I am, above all things,
bound to obey him; but he says that he bids me remain, because
the hardships would be too great for me. But I know that I could
support any hardships; and kind as they are to me here, I would
rather go through anything with my husband than remain here; the
darkness and the silence are more trying than any hardships. So
you see that my lord’s orders were given under a misapprehension,
and as I am sure he would not have given them had he known that I
was not afraid of hardships, and desired above all things to be
with him, I shall disobey them, and he, when I join him, must
decide whether I have done wrong, and, if he thinks so, send me
away from him.”

“Then, my lord, seeing that it was so, I gave her your second
letter, in which you said that if she wished to join you you had
made arrangements for her doing so. Then she kissed the letter
and cried over it, and said that she was ready to depart when I
came to fetch her. Then she told me that Norbanus had opened his
veins that night after she had left, and that the soldiers of
Nero arrived just too late to trouble him; that all his property
had been confiscated, and that she had no friends in the world
but you.

“It took a week for Porus to obtain two suitable slaves–the
one an elderly woman and the other a young servant.

“The goldsmith handed over your money to me at once, saying,
‘I am glad to hear that Beric is alive. Tell him that he did
badly in not slaying the tyrant when he had him at his mercy.
Tell him, too, there are rumours of deep discontent among the
legions in the provinces, and a general hope among the better
class of Romans that they will ere long proclaim a new emperor
and overthrow Nero. Tell him also to be on his guard. There is a
talk of an expedition on a large scale, to root out those who are
gathered in the mountains of Bruttium. It is said that it is to
be commanded by Caius Muro, who but a week ago returned from
Syria.'”

“Is it so?” Beric exclaimed. “I know him well, having lived in
his house for years. I should be sorry indeed that we should meet
as enemies. Heard you aught of his daughter?”

“Not from the goldsmith, but afterwards. She is married, I
hear, to Pollio, who is of the family of Norbanus.”

“I am indeed glad to hear it, Philo. He also was a great
friend of mine, and as he knew Muro in Britain, would doubtless
have sought him out in Syria, where he, too, held an office. ‘Tis
strange indeed that he should have married Berenice, whom I last
saw as a girl, now fully four years back. And all went well on
the voyage?”

“Well indeed, my lord. I took the Lady Aemilia down to Ostia
in a carriage with closed curtains. She stayed two days in the
place Porus had hired, and none suspected on the voyage that she
was other than his daughter.”

“And how is she looking, Philo?”

“At first, my lord, she was looking strangely white, and I
feared that her health had suffered; but she said that it was
dwelling in the darkness that had so whitened her, and indeed the
sun during the voyage has brought the colour back to her cheeks,
and she is now looking as she used to do when I carried letters
to the house from Nero’s palace.”

Once arrived at the brow of the hill, looking down upon the
Straits of Messina, Beric’s impatience could be no longer
restrained, and he descended the slope with leaps and bounds that
left Philo far behind. Porus was at the door of the farm; Beric
grasped his hand.

“She is in there,” he said, pointing to a door, and a moment
later Aemilia fell into his arms.

In half an hour the door opened.

“Come in, Porus and Philo,” Beric called. “I must first thank
you, both in my own name and that of my betrothed, for the great
service you have rendered us, and the care and kindness with
which you have watched over her. We have settled nothing yet
about the future, except that tomorrow I shall complete the
betrothal, and she will become my wife. It should be done today,
but my faithful Boduoc must be here as a witness. It would be a
disappointment indeed to him were he not to be present at my
marriage. For the present, at any rate, my wife will remain
here.

“She would fain go up into the mountains, but that cannot be.
Not only is our life too rough for her, but her presence there
would greatly add to my anxieties. Here she will be safe, and
you, Philo, will remain with her. I am convinced that I can trust
Cornelius. You have told me, Porus, that you are assured of his
honesty, and as I can pay him well, and he can have no idea that
the Romans would be glad to pay a far higher sum for my capture,
he has no temptation to be unfaithful to us; besides, his face is
a frank and open one. I shall charge him that, while Aemilia
remains here, none of his men are to accompany him when he goes
down to the port, for, without meaning harm, they might talk to
people there of what is going on, and the matter might come to
the ears of the authorities.”

“I think,” Porus said, “it would be well, Beric, that I and
the three men who go down with me to bring up goods should take
up our residence here. There is an out house which is unused, and
which we can occupy. In this way we can keep an eye upon the two
men on the farm, and one can be always on the watch to see that
no party of armed men is coming up from the port. I believe in
the good faith of the farmer, but it is always better to take
precautions.”

“Far better, Porus. The plan you suggest is an excellent one.
We must try and make this chamber a little more fitting for
Aemilia’s abode.”

“That will soon be done,” Porus said. “Knowing what your
wishes would be in such a matter, I purchased at Ostia sufficient
stuff to cover these bare walls, with rugs and such furniture as
was requisite. These I brought up in a cart as far as the road
extends, and I will now go down with Philo and the two men and
bring them up here and help the slaves get the room in
order.”

Before sunset Beric returned alone to the camp, and the next
morning came back to the farm with Boduoc.

“There is one thing I must tell you, Beric,” Aemilia said when
he went in alone to see her, “I have become a Christian.”

“I thought it was likely you would do so, Aemilia,” he said;
“living among these people, and knowing how Ennia had embraced
their religion, it could hardly be otherwise. You shall tell me
about it afterwards. I know but little of its tenets, but I know
how those who held them faced death, and there must be much
indeed in a religion which teaches men so to die.”

“You told me that you would not object, Beric, or I would have
abstained from attending their assemblies. Still, it was right I
should tell you before I became your wife.”

Porus and his companion had spent the morning in gathering
flowers. These the slaves had made into wreaths and had decorated
the room, which was completely changed in appearance since Beric
left it on the afternoon before. The roughly built walls were
hidden by rich hangings. The floor was covered with matting, on
which were placed thick rugs woven in the East. Two or three
carved couches were placed against the walls, and as many small
tables on tripod legs stood beside them. The farmer and his wife
were called in, and in their presence and that of his three
followers Beric performed the simple ceremony of a Roman
marriage, consisting only of taking Aemilia’s hand in his and
declaring that, in conformity with the conditions of the pact
before made and signed, and with the full consent and
authorization of her father, he took her to be his wife.

Beric remained three days down at the cottage, and then
rejoined his band. A few days later a messenger came in from one
of the bands at the other side of the promontory of Bruttium,
saying they had obtained news that preparations were being made
at Sybaris for the landing of a very large body of troops, and
that it was said to be the intention of the Romans to make a
great expedition through the mountains and entirely exterminate
the outlaws.

“They would have left us alone,” Beric said bitterly, “if it
had not been that you made yourselves scourges to the country,
pillaging and ravaging the villages among the hills and slaying
innocent people.”

“We were obliged to live,” the man said. “Rome has driven us
into the mountains, and we must feed at the expense of Rome.”

Beric was silent. He felt that had he himself not had means
his own bands would have also taken to pillage. The men who took
to the hills regarded themselves as at war with Rome. Rome sent
her soldiers against them, and slew every man captured. She
hunted them like wild beasts, and as wild beasts they had to live
at her expense. Beric was not in advance of the spirit of his
time. It was the custom in war to burn, destroy, and slay.

That as Rome warred with them they should war with Rome seemed
natural to every fugitive in the hills, and they regarded their
leader’s action in purchasing what he could have taken by force
simply as an act of policy. Their own people had been slain by
the Romans, they themselves doomed to risk their lives for the
amusement of the Roman mob. If recaptured they would, like the
followers of Spartacus, be doubtless put to death by crucifixion.
That, under these circumstances, they should be in the slightest
degree influenced by any feeling of pity or humanity towards
Romans would, if suggested to them, have appeared supremely
ridiculous.

Beric felt, then, that for him to say any further word of
blame would only have the effect of causing him to be regarded
with suspicion and dislike, and would lessen his own influence
among the mountain bands.

He therefore said, “That you should take what is necessary is
not blamable, against it I have nothing to say; but it was to the
interest of all of us that nothing more should be taken. Rome
would not have been stirred to send an army against us merely by
the complaints of peasants that some of their goats and sheep had
been driven off or their granaries emptied; but when it comes to
burning villages and slaughtering their inhabitants, and carrying
fire and sword down to the seashore, Rome was roused. She felt
her majesty insulted, and now we are going to have a veritable
army invade the mountains. It is no longer viewed as an affair of
brigands, but as an insurrection. However, there is no more to be
said, the mischief is done, and we have now only to do our best
to repel the invasion. Tell your leaders that tomorrow morning I
will set out and join them, and will with them examine the
country, mark the lines by which the enemy are likely to advance,
decide where obstacles had best be erected, and where the first
stand should be made. It may be weeks yet before they come. Roman
armies are not moved as quickly as a tribe of mountaineers.”

The following day Beric, taking with him the greater portion
of his band, marched across the hills under the guidance of the
charcoal burner, who had now enrolled himself regularly in its
ranks, and had taken the oath of obedience. Their course lay to
the northeast, as it was in the Bay of Tarentum that rumour
reported that the Romans would land. As, after two days’
marching, they neared the spot fixed upon for the rendezvous,
they came upon other bands journeying in the same direction; and
when these united on a shoulder of the hill commanding a view of
the great bay, some eight hundred men were assembled. Fires had
been already lighted, and a number of sheep killed and roasted.
The leaders withdrew from the rest as soon as they had finished
their meal, and seating themselves at a point whence they could
see the plains stretching away from the foot of the hills to the
gulf, began their consultation.

“I wonder why they are coming round here?” one of the chiefs
said; “they might have landed at Rhegium in the straits, and
thence marched straight up into the hills. From where your camp
is, Beric, you should know what is going on there, for the town
stands almost below you. Is nought said there about military
preparations?”

“Nothing whatever,” Beric replied; “nor do I think it likely
that they will attack from that point, for if they advanced
thence, we should simply retire through the mountains to the
north just as we retired south when they before attacked us. It
is clear what their object is: they will sail up that river and
will disembark at Cosenza; the hills narrow there, and it is but
a short distance across them to the Western Sea. Ascending them
they will at once cut us off from any retreat north. They will
have their magazines close at hand. A thousand men stationed in a
chain across the mountains will suffice to bar our way, while the
rest will move south, penning us up as they go, until they drive
us down to the very edge of the promontory, where, joined perhaps
by a force coming up from Rhegium, they will have us altogether
in their grip.”

An expression of dismay spread round the circle. They had
thought that the Romans would but march straight through the
mountains, in which case it would be easy to evade them, but they
saw at once that by the erection of a chain of permanent posts
across the hill from Cosenza they would be completely hemmed in,
and must sooner or later be hunted down.

“Then you think that our only chance is to move to the
mountains north of Cosenza before they land, Beric?”

“I do not say that,” Beric replied. “To begin with, we are not
going to remain passive and allow ourselves to be driven like a
flock of sheep into the hurdles. Did they bring against us only
heavy armed troops we could laugh at them, for we can march two
miles to their one, and move easily among the rocks where they
could find no footing. It is only their light armed soldiers we
have to fear, but even these must move at the same rate as the
hoplites, for if they ventured far away from the protection of
the spearmen we should make short work of them. We have over a
thousand fighting men in these mountains, and each one of us in
close conflict is a match for at least three of their light armed
men. In the plains, of course, we should suffer greatly from
their missiles before we came to a close conflict; but among
these woods and precipices we could fall on them suddenly, and be
in their midst before they have time to lay arrow to bow.
Therefore, you see, the Romans can move but slowly among the
hills, and we will soon teach them that they dare not scatter,
and even twelve thousand men do not go for much among these
mountains, extending some seventy miles from Cosenza to Rhegium,
and from ten to twenty miles across.

“How about food?” one of the others asked.

“In that respect we shall be far better off than they would.
We shall really have no difficulty about food. It would need
twenty legions to form a cordon along the slopes of these hills
on both sides, and we can, while opposing the Romans, always
detach parties to make forays down into the plain and drive off
sheep, goats, and cattle. Besides, among the lower forests there
are herds of swine pasturing, which will be available for our
use. The question of food will be of no trouble to us, but on the
other hand, it will be a vast trouble to the Romans. Every foot
that they advance from their magazines at Cosenza their
difficulties will increase. They must make roads as they go, and
their convoys will always be exposed to our attacks. Very large
bodies of men must otherwise be employed in escorting them. They
may form depots at the foot of the hills as they advance, but
even then their difficulties will be prodigious.

“I should propose to fight them as we fought them in the
swamps of my native land–to harass them night and day, to wear
them out with false alarms, to oppose them in the defiles, to
hurl down the rocks on them from precipices, to cut off their
convoys, and fall upon their camps at night, until they lose all
confidence in themselves, and dare only move hither and thither
in a solid body. Not until they have destroyed the whole of the
forests between Cosenza and Rhegium, and made roads everywhere
across the mountains, ought they be able to overcome us. It will
be time enough to think of retiring then. By descending the
western slopes a long night march would take us north of Cosenza,
and we could then take to the hills again; or we could descend
upon the coast near Rhegium at night, seize a fishing village,
embark in its boats and cross the strait, and before morning be
among the mountains of Sicily, which are so vast and far
stretching that operations which, though possible, are difficult
here, could not probably be carried on against us.”

Beric’s words were received with enthusiastic approval. Before
all had felt dispirited, and though ready to fight to the last,
had deemed that the resistance could be but short and their fate
certain. Now they saw before them a veritable war, in which they
could hope to defend themselves successfully, and if beaten here
escape to renew it elsewhere, and which promised them an abundant
opportunity for encountering the Romans. This was what they most
longed for. Not one there but hated Rome with a bitter hatred, as
the author of unnumbered woes to their tribes, their families and
themselves. Death had no terrors whatever to these men, so that
they could die fighting with Romans. Rising to their feet they
returned with exulting shouts to their comrades.

CHAPTER XX: MOUNTAIN
WARFARE

The gladiators sprang to their feet as their leaders returned
to them, and eagerly questioned them as to the news that had so
reanimated them. But they only replied, “Beric will tell you,”
and Beric was obliged to mount a rock near the spot where they
had been feasting, and to repeat to the whole of the assembly his
plan for the campaign against the Romans. Loud shouts greeted his
speech, the Gauls and Britons clashing their swords against their
shields as was their custom, and the others signified their
approval each after the manner of his country.

“Beric is our leader! Beric is our leader!” they shouted. “We
will follow him to the death.” When the tumult had subsided,
Beric raised his hand for silence.

“I am willing to accept the leadership,” he said; “but if I
must lead I must be obeyed. In a warfare like this everything
depends upon the orders of him who commands being carried out
promptly and without question. I only accept the command because,
although younger than most of you, I have already fought the
Romans often and successfully. Each of you will remain under your
respective chiefs, who will act as my lieutenants, and all must
be ready to sacrifice their own wishes and their own opinions to
the general welfare. Those whom I order to fight will fight, I
know; those whom I tell off to fell trees, to raise obstacles, or
to pile stones on the edge of precipices, must labour with equal
zeal; while those who are despatched to drive up cattle, or to
guard them until needed in the forest, will know that their turn
for active fighting will come in good time. The man who disobeys
me dies.

“It is only by acting as one man and under one leader that we
can hope to resist successfully. You are free men, and may
consider it humiliating thus to obey the orders of another; but
the Romans are free men too, and yet they submit to the severest
discipline, and without the slightest question obey the orders of
their general. So it must be here. If all are disposed thus to
follow me I accept the command. Let those who cannot so submit
themselves withdraw and fight in their own fashion. They shall be
free to depart, none harming them.”

A great shout followed the conclusion of Beric’s speech, and
the whole of those present lifted up their hands and swore
implicit obedience to him. The next few days were spent in making
a careful examination of the mountains above Cosenza, and fixing
upon the points where an active resistance could be best
made.

“We must have missiles,” Beric said one day when his
lieutenants were gathered round him. “We will not begin the war
until the Romans do so, but we must have weapons. Boduoc, you
will tomorrow take the whole of my band and descend to the plain,
fall upon the town of Castanium at daybreak; the bands of Victor
and Marsus will accompany you and will be also under your orders.
My orders are strict, that no one is to be injured unless he
resists. Tell the inhabitants that we wish them no harm. Ransack
the armourers’ shops for arrow and javelin heads, and search all
the private houses for weapons; also bring off all the brass,
copper, and iron you can find, with every axe head and chopper in
the town. We can erect charcoal furnaces here similar to those we
used at home, and so provide ourselves with an ample store of
missiles. Bring off from the carpenters’ shops any seasoned wood
you can find suitable for the making of bows. Touch no gold or
silver ornaments of the women–the metals are useless to us
here–neither take garments nor spoil of any other kind. I
would show them that, until driven to it, we are not the foes of
the people at large. Above all frighten no woman; let them see
that we, though gladiators and outlaws, are as well disciplined
and as humane as their own soldiery.”

Accordingly at sunset Boduoc marched away at the head of two
hundred men, and returned to the mountains late on the following
afternoon with a large store of arms and metal, Beric’s orders
having been scrupulously carried out.

“You should have seen the wonder of the people,” Boduoc said
to him, “when they saw that we meant them no harm, and that we
touched neither person nor goods save in the matter of arms. They
gave us their best to eat, and many even accompanied us some
distance on our return, overjoyed with the clemency we had shown
the town.”

There was no lack of charcoal, and in many places the stacks
had been left by the charcoal burners untouched when the bands
first appeared among the mountains. Those who had been accustomed
to the smelting of metals at home were appointed to cast heads
for arrows and javelins, others cut down and split up tough wood
and fashioned the shafts, others made bows; strong parties were
set to work to fell trees and form obstacles in defiles where the
rocks rose steeply, while others piled great heaps of stones and
heavy rocks along the edges of the precipices. As yet there were
no signs of the expected fleet, and when the preparations were
complete the bands again scattered, as it was easier so to
maintain themselves in provisions; and, a party being left to
watch for the arrival of the Roman legions, Beric returned with
his band to his former station.

“There will be plenty of time to gather again before they move
forward,” he said to their lieutenants. “They will have to
collect the carts from all the country round, to land their
stores and to make their arrangements for victualling. They will
know that it is no easy task that they are undertaking, and that
they have desperate men to meet. It will be a week after they
land at the very earliest before they leave Cosenza.”

For a fortnight Beric remained quietly passing the greater
portion of his time at the farmhouse with Aemilia.

“It is terrible to me that you are going to fight the Romans,
Beric,” she said.

“I have no desire to fight the Romans, it is they who want to
fight with me,” he replied; “and as I have no desire for
crucifixion, or any of the other forms of death which they bestow
upon their captives, I have no choice but to resist. As you do
not think any the worse of me, Aemilia, for having fought your
countrymen before, I don’t see that you can take it to heart that
I am going to do it again, especially as you have very small
reason to be grateful to them for the treatment that you and
yours have received at their hands. You must remember, dear, that
as my wife, you are a Briton now, and must no longer speak of the
Romans as your people. Still, were it not for my countrymen, I
would gladly bury myself with you in some cottage far up among
the hills of Sicily, and there pass my life in quiet and
seclusion. But without a leader the others would speedily fall
victims to the Romans, and as long as the Romans press us, I must
remain with them.”

At the end of the fortnight a messenger arrived saying that a
great fleet had arrived at the mouth of the Crathis River.

“I will from time to time send a messenger to you, Aemilia,”
Beric said as he took a tender farewell of his wife, “to tell you
how matters go with us; but do not alarm yourself about me, for
some time there is little chance of close fighting.”

The bands gathered in their full force above Cosenza, and
during the week that elapsed before the Romans advanced renewed
their labour at various passes through which it was probable that
the enemy would move. Some of the men were already skilled
archers, and the rest had spent their time for the last fortnight
in incessant practice, and could manage their weapons
sufficiently well to be able to send an arrow into a crowded mass
of men.

It was with a feeling of satisfaction that the Roman column
was seen one morning issuing from Cosenza and moving up the road
that there crossed the mountains. Once on the crest they
proceeded to cut down trees and form a camp. While they were so
occupied the gladiators remained on the defensive. Light armed
troops had been pushed by the Romans into the woods, but after
being permitted to advance some distance the sound of a horn was
heard, followed instantly by a flight of arrows, and then by a
rush of the gladiators, who drove these light armed troops before
them, killing many, till they reached the protection of the
spearmen.

Again and again during the ensuing week the Romans endeavoured
to penetrate the woods, heavy armed troops accompanying the
archers. Before they had penetrated far into the forest they
found their way arrested by obstacles–lines of felled trees
with the branches pointing towards them, and these were only
taken after severe loss, the defenders shooting through the green
hedge, which was only broken through when working parties with
heavy axes came up covered by the spearmen. One party, pushing on
incautiously, was suddenly attacked on all sides, and after
pouring in their missiles the gladiators charged them, broke the
ranks of the spearmen, and destroyed the whole party, three
hundred in number.

After this the advance was delayed until the fortified camp
was complete and stored with provisions. Then the Roman army
moved forward, and was soon engaged in a succession of combats.
Every valley and ravine was defended, invisible foes rolled down
masses of rock among them and a hail of arrows, and it was only
when very strong bodies of archers, supported by spearmen,
climbed the heights on both sides that the resistance ceased. The
Romans halted for the night where they stood, but there was
little sleep for them, for the woods rang with war cries in many
languages. The sentries were shot or stabbed by men who crawled
up close to them. At times the shouts became so threatening and
near that the whole force was called to its feet to repel attack,
but in the morning all was quiet. As before, they were attacked
as soon as they moved forward. No serious opposition was offered
to the columns of spearmen, but the light armed troops who
covered the advance and formed a connection between the columns
were exposed to incessant attack.

The third day the Romans, after another disturbed night, again
advanced. This time they met with no opposition, and as they
moved cautiously forward, wondered uneasily what was the meaning
of this silence. Late in the afternoon they learned. They had
advanced, each man carrying three days’ provisions with him.
Beric, being aware that this was their custom, had during the
night led his men some distance down the hillside, and making a
detour occupied before morning the ground the Romans had passed
over. At midday a great convoy of baggage animals, laden with
provisions, came along. It extended over a great length, and came
in straggling order, the men leading their animals, and making
their way with difficulty through the thick trees. Five hundred
Roman soldiers were scattered along the line. Suddenly the sound
of a horn rose in the woods, and in an instant, at points all
along the line of the convoy, strong bodies of men burst down
upon them.

In vain the Roman soldiers tried to gather in groups. The
animals, frightened by the shouting and din, broke loose from
their leaders and rushed wildly hither and thither, adding to the
confusion. Greatly outnumbered, and attacked by foes individually
their superiors both in strength and skill of arms, and animated
by a burning hatred, the Romans could do little, and the combat
terminated in a few minutes in their annihilation. The men with
the convoy were all killed, a line of gladiators having been
posted through the woods, both ahead and behind it, before the
attack began, so that no fugitives might escape either way to
carry the news.

The animals were then collected, and their burdens taken off
and examined. The flour was divided up into parcels that a man
could easily carry on his shoulder, and a large number of skins
of wine set aside. All that could not be taken was scattered and
destroyed, and the animals then slaughtered. As soon as it became
dark the band descended the mountain side, marched for many miles
along its foot, and then again ascended the hills, ready to
oppose the Roman advance; but there was no movement in the
morning. Surprised and alarmed at the non-arrival of the train by
nightfall, the general sent a strong body of troops back to meet
them with torches. These in time came upon the bodies of the men
and animals, and at once returned with the news of the disaster
to the camp.

“This is a terrible blow, Pollio,” the general said to his
son-in-law. “We had reckoned on an obstinate resistance, but did
not dream that the gladiators would thus oppose us.”

“It puts me in mind, Muro, of the work in the fens of Britain;
and indeed more than once I have thought I recognized the war
cries with which the Iceni attacked us. The strategy is similar
to that we then encountered. Can it be possible that Beric is
again opposing us? I heard during the short time we were in Rome
that the Britons in the palace of Nero had risen and escaped. I
was too heartbroken at the fate of my uncle and his family to ask
many questions, and was fully occupied in our preparations. My
first thought would have been to find Beric out had I not been
met on landing with the news of the disgrace and death of
Norbanus, and I shunned the palace of Nero as if the pestilence
had been there. No doubt Beric would have left with the other
Britons, and in that case he may well be at the head of those
opposing us.”

“The tactics they are adopting certainly look like it, Pollio;
and if they continue to fight as they have done so far, we are
likely to have no better fortune than Suetonius had in his
campaign against them. It is ten days since we left Cosenza, we
have made but some ten miles advance among the hills, and we have
lost already eight hundred hoplites, and I know not how many
light armed troops. At this rate our force will melt away to
nothing before we have half cleared this wilderness of rock and
forest. Hitherto in their revolts the gladiators have met our
troops in pitched battle, but their strength and skill have not
availed against Roman discipline. But in such fighting as this
discipline goes for little. They are fighting on ground they
know, can choose their moment for attack, and hurl all their
strength on one point while we are groping blindly.”

“But how can they have got through our lines in the night,
Muro?” Pollio asked. “Our men were posted down to the edge of the
forest on either side of the hills. There were two thousand under
arms all night.”

“But there was nothing to prevent them, Pollio, from
descending far below the forest line and coming up again in our
rear. This is what they must have done. Nor have we any means of
preventing their doing so, for nothing short of a force strong
enough to reach down to the sea on either hand would prevent
their passing us. At any rate we must halt here for a time. The
whole of our baggage animals are destroyed, and nothing can be
done until another train is collected.”

The war proceeded but slowly. The Romans indeed made some
slight advance, but they were worn out and harassed by incessant
alarms. To prevent the recurrence of the disaster to the baggage
train the supplies were now carried along the plain at the foot
of the hill, and then taken up under very strong escorts directly
to the point at which the army had arrived. The soldiers, worn
out and dispirited by constant alarms, became reluctant to
advance unless in solid order; and in this way five thousand men,
taking nine days’ provisions with them, made their way through
the heart of the hills until they reached the southern slopes,
and the sea lay before them. But they occupied only the ground on
which they stood, and their passage brought them no nearer to the
end they desired. The fact that the army had made a passage right
through the mountains was regarded as a triumph in Rome, and
believing that the end was near fresh reinforcements were sent to
Muro to enable him to finish the campaign rapidly. His reports,
however, to the senate left no doubt in the minds of those who
read them as to the situation.

“We are fighting,” he said, “an enemy who will not allow us to
strike him. Three months have passed since I entered the
mountains, and yet I cannot say that I am nearer the end than I
was when I began. I have lost three thousand men, of whom half
are spearmen. The gladiators have suffered but slightly, for they
always burst down in overwhelming numbers, slay, and retire. At
least twenty times my camps have been attacked; and although I
have lost but one convoy, the difficulty and labour of
victualling the troops is enormous. If the gladiators would but
take to the plain we should annihilate them in the first battle.
As it is, it is they who select the ground for action, and not
we. The troops are utterly worn out and well nigh mutinous at
what they consider a hopeless task. You ask me what had best be
done. My own opinion is, that we should retire from the mountains
and establish the troops in camps near their foot, so as to
restrain the gladiators from making excursions, and to fall upon
them when hunger drives them to leave the mountains. Treachery
may then do what force has failed in.

“Among such a body there must be traitors, and when the war is
apparently ended we may, through shepherds or goatherds, open
communication with them. My great fear is, and always has been,
that as we gradually press them south they may pour down on to
one of the villages on the straits, seize the boats, cross to
Sicily, and take refuge in the mountains there, where they could
laugh at our efforts to pursue them. I should advise that it
should be announced publicly that our army, having traversed the
whole mountains of Bruttium without meeting with a foe, the
objects of the expedition have been attained, and the enemy may
now be considered as a mere mass of fugitives, whom it would be
impossible to root out as long as they take refuge among their
fastnesses; but that for the present the army will be placed in a
cordon of camps round the foot of the mountains, by which means
the fugitives will be starved into surrender. If this course is
not approved I have but one other to suggest, namely, that the
whole of the population of southern Italy should be ordered to
take part in the total destruction of the forests of Bruttium.
Every tree must be cut down to the level of the soil; every trunk
and branch be burnt by fire. The task would be a tremendous one.
The loss to the country around by the destruction of the forests,
wherein their flocks of sheep and goats and their herds of swine
find sustenance and shelter in winter, would be enormous, but
thus, and thus alone, I am assured, can these bands of gladiators
be rooted out.”

Muro’s advice was taken, and the exulting gladiators beheld
the troops descending from the mountains to the plains below.
Their own loss had not exceeded three hundred men, and their
shouts of triumph rose high in the woods, and reached the ears of
the Romans retiring sullenly down the slopes. In a few days the
plan of the Romans became apparent. The camp in the pass above
Cosenza was still strongly held, four well fortified camps were
established in the plains on either side of the hills, and Muro
himself took up his post at Rhegium, where two thousand
legionaries were posted. The gladiators again broke up into
bands, Beric returning to his former encampment, to the delight
of Aemilia.

“You must not suppose that our troubles are over, Aemilia,” he
said. “We have indeed beaten them on our own ground, but we shall
now have to fight against famine. The wild animals have already
become scarce. You may be sure that the villagers will be allowed
to send no more flocks or herds up the hills to pasture, and
before long it will be necessary to make raids for food. You will
see that, emboldened by their successes, the men will become
rash, and may be cut off and defeated. As for us there is no
fear; as long as we can pay for provisions we shall be able to
obtain them, for although there may be difficulty in obtaining
regular supplies, now that the troops are at Rhegium, all these
upland farmers and villagers will continue to deal with us,
knowing that if they do not we shall take what we need without
payment and perhaps burn their houses over their heads.”

It was not long, indeed, before Beric’s predictions were
verified. As soon as the provisions became scarce the bands on
the other side of the mountains recommenced their forays on the
villagers, but from the Roman camps parties of soldiers were sent
off after nightfall to the upper villages, and the marauders were
several times surprised and almost exterminated.

“We must be more and more careful,” Beric said to Aemilia when
he heard of one of these disasters. “The prisoners the Romans
take will under torture tell all they know, and it will not be
long before the Romans ascertain the general position of our
encampment. The force will dwindle rapidly. In the last two
months they have lost well nigh as many men as in the campaign in
the mountains. More than that, I have seen several of the
leaders, who told me they had determined, seeing that starvation
was approaching them here, to endeavour to pass between the Roman
camps with their bands, and regain the mountains beyond Cosenza,
so as to establish themselves far north; and indeed I cannot
blame them. But their retreat adds to our danger. So long as they
roamed the eastern hills there was no danger of a Roman force
surprising us, but when they have gone some of the captives may
be forced to lead the Romans across the hills to our
neighbourhood. Boduoc is vigilant and his scouts are scattered
far round the camp, and at the worst we may have to carry out my
plan of crossing to Sicily. At any rate he has my orders what to
do in case of a sudden surprise. If I am absent, knowing every
foot of the wood now, he will at once make his way north, leaving
it to me to rejoin him as I best can.”

But upon one thing Beric had not reckoned. So long as the
gladiators were in force among the mountains the country people
on the slopes above the straits were glad enough to purchase
their safety by silence. But as they heard of one band after
another being crushed by the Romans, and learned that parties
from the various camps had penetrated far into the hills without
meeting with a single opponent, their fear of the gladiators
decreased. There were two thousand legionaries at Rhegium. These
could crush the band that remained somewhere about the crest of
the hills with ease, and they need no longer fear their
vengeance. The Roman general would surely pay a great reward for
information that would lead to his being able to deal a final
blow to the gladiators. The farmer with whom Aemilia lodged had
no such thought. He had earned in the last eight months as much
as his farm had brought him in the three best years since he
inherited it. He found these terrible outlaws gentle and
pleasant, ready to lend a hand on the farm if needful, and
delighted to play with his children. As to their chief, he was a
source of never ending wonder to him. Gladiators were, according
to his idea, fierce and savage men, barbarians who were good for
nothing but to kill each other, while this tall man bore himself
like a Roman of high rank, conversed in pure Latin, and could
even read and write. Aemilia, too, had become a great favourite
in the house. The farmer’s wife wondered at seeing one, with two
slaves to wait upon her, active and busy, interested in all that
went on, and eager to learn every detail of the housework.

“I could manage a Roman household, Beric,” she said. “I did so
indeed all the time we were in Rome; but we may have to live in a
hut, and I must know how to manage and cook for you there.”

In Rhegium life was more cheerful than usual. Many of the
upper class of Rome, who shrank from the festivities of the court
of Nero and yet dared not withdraw altogether from Rome, had
their country estates and villas along the coasts, where they
could for a time enjoy freedom and live according to their
tastes. Berenice had joined Pollio three weeks before, when she
found that he was likely to remain stationed at Rhegium for some
time. They lived with Muro in a villa a short distance from the
town, and looking over the straits.

“I should feel perfectly happy here, Pollio,” Berenice said
one evening as she walked to and fro on the terrace with him,
looking at the water in which the moonlight was reflected,
bringing up into view the boats rowing here and there with
pleasure parties with music and lanterns, “if it were not for the
thought of Beric. It is curious that he should be mixed up with
both our lives. He was my playmate as a boy; he saved me at the
massacre of Camalodunum, and restored me to my father. When we
left Britain he was fighting against Suetonius, and we expected
when we left that the news of his defeat and death would reach
Rome before us. At Rome we heard but vague rumours that Suetonius
had not yet overcome the final resistance of the Britons, and
glad we were when Petronius was sent out to take his place, and
we heard that gentler measures were to be used towards the
Britons.

“Then, after a time, when we were in Syria, came the news that
Suetonius had returned, bringing with him Beric, the British
chief, with twenty of his followers, and my father at once wrote
to the emperor praying him that clemency might be extended to him
for his kind action in saving my life. Then when you came out to
Syria Beric’s name again came up. You had journeyed with him from
Britain to Rome, and he had become your friend. Then a few months
afterwards a newcomer from Rome brought us the story of how your
cousin Ennia, having turned Christian, had been condemned to the
lions; how a British gladiator named Beric had sprung into the
arena and craved to fight the lion; how Nero had cruelly ordered
him to do so unarmed; and how he had, as it seemed by a miracle,
overcome the lion and bound him by strips torn from his mantle.
Then again we learned from one who came from Nero’s court that
Beric stood high in favour with Caesar, that he was always about
his person, and that rumours said he kept guard over him at
night.

“Then again, when we returned to Rome, my father was at once
ordered to take command of an expedition against some revolted
gladiators, among whom were, it was said, the British captives
who had created a disturbance in Nero’s palace, well nigh killed
the emperor, and after slaying many of the Praetorians, escaped.
After you and my father had left me at the house of my uncle
Lucius I made many inquiries, and found that Beric had doubtless
escaped with the other Britons, as he had never been seen in the
palace that night. I heard too that it had been whispered by some
of those who were present at the supper, that the fault had not
been his. He had been betrothed to your cousin Aemilia, and Nero,
urged thereto by Rufinus, a disappointed suitor, ordered Beric to
bring her to the orgy. Upon his refusal Rufinus attacked him, and
Beric slew him by dashing his head against a marble pillar. Then
Nero called upon the Praetorians, and the Britons ran in to the
aid of their chief, and, defeating the Praetorians, escaped. It
was the same night that your uncle died and Aemilia was missing.
It may be that she fled with Beric, knowing that she would be
sacrificed to the fury of Nero. Is it not strange, Pollio, that
this Briton should be so mixed up in both our lives?”

“It is indeed, Berenice. There is no one to whom I owe so
much. First I owe your life to him, then I owe that of Ennia, my
cousin; for although she died afterwards, it was in her father’s
house, and not a terrible and disgraceful death in the arena. And
now we have been fighting against him for months, and though of
course we made the best of matters, there is no doubt that we had
all the worst of it. We had twelve thousand men against a
thousand, and yet Beric kept us at bay and inflicted some
terrible blows upon us, for we lost a third of our number. After
the first battle there was no longer any doubt that Beric was the
leader of our opponents. Even had we not heard them shout his
name as they attacked us, we who had fought against him in
Britain would have recognized that he was again our opponent; for
he used the same tactics among the mountains that he had done in
the swamps. We know from prisoners we have taken since that he
was unharmed in the struggle with us, and certainly neither he
nor any of his Britons have been among the raiding bands whom we
have surprised and destroyed. Indeed the Britons never joined in
any of the attacks upon the country people before we came hither.
I have questioned many of the sufferers by their depredations,
and none of them had seen among the plunderers any tall men with
light hair. The only time that they have been seen on the plains
was a fortnight before we landed, when they entered Castanium and
carried off all the arms. The Britons were among that party, and
a Briton commanded it; but from the description it was not Beric,
but was, I think, his principal follower, a man with a British
name which I forget.”

“Was it Boduoc?” Berenice asked. “I have often heard him speak
of a friend of his with such a name, and indeed he came once or
twice to see him when he was with us.”

“That was the name–Boduoc,” Pollio said. “They behaved with
the greatest gentleness, injuring no one and taking nothing,
neither jewels, nor ornaments, nor garments, but departing
quietly after taking possession of all the weapons in the
town.

“Your father reported the fact to Rome, bringing into
prominence the fact that this was the first time the Britons had
ever descended from the mountains, and that the inhabitants of
Castanium were filled with gratitude and admiration for the
treatment they received. Last week he wrote to Rome saying that
so far as he could learn all the bands that had not been
destroyed had gone north, save one composed of Britons and Gauls,
about fourscore in number, commanded by the Briton Beric, and
suggested that as months might pass before they could be
captured, he should be authorized to treat with them, and to
offer them full pardon if they would lay down their arms,
especially as they had taken no part whatever in the misdeeds of
the other gladiators, and had injured no one either in person or
property. I know that it was a great disappointment to him, as
well as to us, when the letter came yesterday saying that they
were to be hunted down and destroyed, and that all not killed in
fighting were to be crucified. But we had better go in, Berenice,
the dew is beginning to fall.”

They entered the villa. The general was alone in the
atrium.

“Is anything the matter, father?” Berenice asked, as she saw
that he looked disturbed.

“Yes, Berenice, I have received news that as a Roman general
ought to delight me, but which, as Caius Muro, your father and
the father in law of Pollio, vexes me greatly.”

“What is it, father?”

“A man arrived half an hour since saying that he had news of
importance to communicate. He was brought in here. He told me he
was a cultivator whose farm lay far up on the hillside. For
upwards of a year he had, in fear of his life, as he said, been
compelled to sell food to the bandits in the mountains. He
acknowledged that he had been well paid, and that he had no cause
of complaint against them; but he now professed a desire to do
service to Rome, for which he evidently expected a handsome
reward. I told him I could not bargain with him. He had aided the
enemies of Rome, and by his own account his life was forfeited,
seeing that for a year he had been trafficking with them, instead
of doing his duty and reporting their first visit to the
authorities here.

“He said that he was not alone, and that most of the farmers
high up on the hills had been compelled to do the same, and had
kept silence, knowing that the brigands would have burned their
houses and slain their wives and families had they reported aught
against them to the authorities, and that, indeed, they were
altogether ignorant of the position of the camp of the outlaws
beyond the fact that it was somewhere among the mountains. ‘What,
then, have you to report?’ I said angrily, for I hate to have to
do with traitors. ‘It is this,’ he said: ‘for some months there
has been living a lady, supposed to be the wife of the chief of
the outlaws, at a farm next to mine, belonging to one Cornelius.
The chief often visits her and stays there; five of his followers
live in an out house adjoining the farm, and one of these is
always on guard night and day.

“‘The chief himself is a very tall young man, and is called
Beric by his followers. Four of them are also of his race, tall
and very fair like him. There is also a youth who lives in the
house. He belongs to the band, but appears to be a native of
Rome. He sometimes comes down and makes purchases in Rhegium. The
house cannot be approached from below without an alarm being
given, owing to the strictness of the watch; but I could lead a
body of troops high up above it, so as to come down upon the rear
of the house and cut off all escape when another band comes up
from below.’ I told him that his information was valuable, and
that he was to come here to-morrow evening at eight o’clock to
lead a party of light armed troops up into the hills.”

“And you will send them, father?” Berenice broke in; “surely
you will not take advantage of this treachery.”

“I have no choice but to do so,” the general said gravely. “As
a father I would give my right hand to save the man who preserved
your life; as a Roman soldier my duty is to capture the outlaw,
Beric, by any means possible. Pollio will tell you the same.”

Berenice looked at her husband, who stood in consternation and
grief at the news. “Do you say this too, Pollio?”

Pollio did not answer, but the general spoke for him. “He can
say nothing else, Berenice. To a Roman soldier duty is
everything, and were he ordered to arrest his own father and lead
him to execution he could not hesitate.”

“But I am not a soldier–” Berenice began passionately.

The general held up his hand suddenly. “Hush, Berenice, not a
word farther! I am a Roman general. If you say one word that
would clash with my duty I should order you to your chamber and
place a soldier there on guard over you. Now I will leave you
with your husband;” and the general left the room.

“What do you say, Pollio? Will you suffer this man, who saved
your wife, who risked his life for your cousin, and is, as it
seems, your cousin by marriage, to be foully captured and
crucified?”

“I am a soldier, Berenice; do not tempt me to break my duty.
You heard what your father said.”

Berenice stamped her foot. “Does your duty go so far, Pollio,
that like my father you would place a guard at my door if I said
aught that would seem to run counter to your duty?”

“Not at all, Berenice,” he said with a smile; “say aught you
like. I hear as a husband but not as a soldier.”

“Well, that is something,” Berenice said, mollified. “Well,
Pollio, if you will not warn Beric of his danger I will do so.
Have I your permission to act as I choose?”

“My full permission, dear. Do as you like; act as you choose;
you have beforehand my approval. If you fail and harm comes of it
I will stand by you and share your punishment; but tell me
nothing of what you would do beforehand. I trust you wholly, but
for my sake, if not for your own, be not rash. Remember, if by
any means it becomes known that you aided Beric to escape, both
our lives are surely forfeited.”

“Thank you, Pollio,” Berenice said, throwing her arms round
his neck, “that is spoken like my husband. You shall know
nothing, and I will save Beric.”

CHAPTER
XXI: OLD FRIENDS

Beric and Aemilia were sitting on the following day in the
shade in front of the house, where Porus had erected a verandah
of boughs to keep off the sun, when they observed a female
peasant and an elderly man ascending the hill. They were still
some distance down, and the man spoke to one of the farm men who
was on his way down the hill.

“They are coming this way,” Aemilia said; “they have passed
the point where the paths fork. She seems to find that basket she
is carrying heavy, and no wonder, for it is a steep climb under
the midday sun.”

Stopping once or twice to get breath the two peasants
approached.

“She is a good looking girl, Beric,” Aemilia said.

“Our host has two or three nieces down in the town,” Beric
replied; “I expect it is one of them. Yes, she is certainly
pretty, and not so browned and sunburnt as most of these peasant
girls are.”

As they came close the girl stopped and looked at the house,
and then, instead of going to the entrance, left her companion
and walked across to the verandah. A smile came across her
face.

“Shall I tell you your fortune?” she said abruptly to
Aemilia.

“It is told,” Aemilia said; “to be a farmer’s wife. But what
do you know of fortunes?”

“I can tell you the past if not the future,” the young woman
said, setting down her basket. “May I do so?”

“You are a strange girl,” Aemilia said, “but tell me what you
can.”

“I can see an amphitheatre,” the girl went on, “a great one,
greater than that across at Messina, and it is crowded with
people. In the front row there sits a man past middle age and a
lady and a girl. In the centre of the arena is a young girl in
white.”

“Hush, hush!” Aemilia cried, leaping to her feet, “say no
more. You know me, though how I cannot guess.”

“I see another scene,” the girl went on without heeding her;
“it is a hut. It must belong to some savage people. It is quite
unlike our cottages. There is an old woman there and a man and a
young girl. The old woman does not speak to them; she does not
seem of the same race; the other two are Romans. The mat at the
door is pushed aside and there enters a tall youth. Not so tall
as this man, not so strong; and yet like him, just as a boy might
be to a man.

“The girl jumps up and exclaims ‘Beric.'”

Beric had risen to his feet also now. “Is it possible,” he
cried, “that as the boy has grown into the man, so has the girl
grown into–” and he stopped.

“Into a young woman, Beric. Yes, don’t you remember me
now?”

“It is Berenice!” he exclaimed.

“It is indeed, Beric, the child you saved from death. And this
is your wife Aemilia, the daughter of Norbanus, who is the uncle
of my husband Pollio. And do you not know who that is standing
there?”

“Why, surely it is my tutor and friend Nepo;” and running
towards him he embraced him with heartiness and then led him to
the verandah, where Berenice was talking with Aemilia.

“But why are you thus disguised, and how did you know that
Aemilia and I were here?”

“We have come to warn you, Beric. You have been betrayed, and
tonight there will be troops ranged along above the house to cut
off your retreat, and a company of soldiers will advance from
below straight upon the house. My father told me, I think, in
order that I might save you, though as a Roman general he could
do nought save his duty. Pollio, too, though he said he would
willingly give his sanction, knows not that I have come hither.
He pretended that his duty as a soldier prevented him from
warning you, though I believe that had not I been with him his
friendship and gratitude would have been too much for his duty.
However, I was with him, and he gave me permission to come;
though, mind you, I should have come whether he gave me
permission or not. You did not ask permission of anyone when you
saved me, and even if Pollio had threatened to divorce me if I
disobeyed him I would have come; but as I needed a disguise, and
did not like to trust any of the slaves, I took Nepo into my
confidence, and he managed everything.”

“We are, indeed, grateful to you,” Aemilia cried, embracing
Berenice warmly. “It was brave of you indeed to come.”

“It requires less bravery to come up here with a message,
Aemilia, than to run away from Rome with an outlaw who had just
bearded Caesar in his palace.”

“I did not do that, Berenice. It was not because I was
unwilling, but because Beric would not take me with him. I stayed
for months in Rome, hidden in the Catacombs with the Christians,
until Beric sent for me to join him here; but come inside and
take some refreshment, for you must be weary indeed with your
long walk up the hill.”

“No one else must see me,” Berenice said. “There may be
inquiries when they come tonight and find that you are gone, and
I would not that any should see me.”

“No one will see you. The room is situated at the back of the
house, and though I shall take the slaves with us in our flight,
they shall not catch even a glimpse of your face. I will set them
some needlework to do.”

They were soon seated in Aemilia’s room, and Beric brought in
fruit and wine, goat’s milk, cheese, and bread.

“There is no hurry for me to return,” Berenice said. “The
slaves believe that I have gone out to pay some visits, and I do
not wish to get back until after sunset. There is so much for
Beric to tell us.

“You do not know, Beric, how often Nepo and I have talked
about it, and how we have longed to see you, and I believe that
what drew me first to Pollio was his praises of you. But before
you begin there is one thing I must tell you. My father has
received private news from Rome; there is a report there that the
legions have proclaimed Galba emperor, and that ere long he will
be in Rome. At present it is but a rumour, and of course at court
all profess to disbelieve it, and Nero openly scoffs at the
pretensions of Galba; but the friend who wrote to my father says
that he believes it true. Now my father is a great friend of
Galba’s. They were much together as young men, and served
together both in Gaul and Syria; and he feels sure that if Galba
comes to the throne he will be able to obtain a pardon for you
and those with you, since you have done no one harm save when
attacked. He attempted to procure it from Nero, but altogether
without success; with Galba it will be different, especially as a
new emperor generally begins his reign by acts of clemency. Now,
as I have given you my news, Beric, do you tell us, while we are
eating the fruit, everything that has happened to you since I
last saw you at that hut.”

“So much has happened that it will be impossible to tell you
all, Berenice; but I will give you the outline of it. The
principal thing of all is, that I have taken a wife.”

Berenice pouted. “It is lucky for you, Aemilia, that I was not
at Rome when Beric arrived, for I had as a girl always determined
that I should some day marry him and become a British
chieftainess. He had not seen you then except at Massilia, and I
should have had him all to myself at Rome, for you did not get
there, Pollio tells me, until months later.”

Aemilia laughed. “I should not have entered the lists against
you, Berenice. It was not until after he saved Ennia from the
lion in the arena that I came to love him.”

“Well, I must put up with Pollio,” Berenice said. “He is your
cousin, and I have nothing to say against him as a husband; he is
kind and indulgent, and a brave soldier, and all one could want;
but he is not a hero like Beric.”

Beric laughed. “You should have said a giant, Berenice, which
would have been much nearer the truth. And now I will tell you my
story;” and during the next two hours he gave her a sketch of all
that had passed since they had last parted in Britain.

“There, Cneius Nepo,” Berenice said when he had finished. “You
never thought for a moment that your pupil, who used to pore with
you over those parchments, till I often wished I could throw them
in the fire when I wanted him to play with me, was to go through
such adventures–to match himself first against Suetonius, and
then against my father, both times with honour; to be Nero’s
bodyguard; to say nothing of fighting in the arena, and getting
up a revolt in the palace of Caesar.”

“I expected great things of him,” Nepo said; “but not like
these. I fancied he would become a great chief among the British,
and that he might perhaps induce them to adopt something of our
civilization. I had fancied him as a wise ruler; and, seeing how
fond he was of the exercise of arms, I had thought long before
the insurrection broke out that some day he might lead his
countrymen to battle against us, and that, benefiting by his
study of Caesar and other military writers, he would give far
more trouble to the Romans than even Caractacus had done. But
assuredly I never dreamt of him as fighting a lion barehanded in
a Roman arena in defence of a Roman girl. As to marriages, I own
that the thought crossed my mind that the union of a great
British chief with the daughter of a Roman of rank like your
father would be an augury of peace, and might lead to better
relations between the two countries.”

“That dream must be given up,” Berenice said seriously, “there
are two obstacles. But I have no doubt Aemilia would make quite
as good a chieftainess as I should have done. Some day, Aemilia,
if you return to Britain with Beric, as I hope you will do, and
Pollio becomes a commander of a legion, I will get him to apply
for service there. It is cold and foggy; but wood is a good deal
more plentiful and cheaper than it is at Rome, and with good
fires one can exist anywhere. And now it is time for us to be
going. We will take another path in returning down the hills, so
that any one who noticed us coming up will not see us as we
descend. Nepo’s toga and my stola are hidden in a grove just
outside the town, and it will be dusk by the time we arrive
there. Kiss me, Aemilia; I am glad that I know you, for I have
heard much of you from Pollio. I am glad that Beric has chosen so
well. Goodbye, Beric; I hope we may meet again before long, and
that without danger to any of us. You may salute me if Aemilia
does not object–I told Pollio I should permit it;” and she
laughingly lifted up her face to him. “He never used to kiss me
when I was a child,” she said to Aemilia. “I always thought it
very unkind, and was greatly discontented at it. Now, Nepo, let
us be going.”

Beric and his wife stood watching them until they were far
down the hill. “She makes light of it,” Beric said; “but it is no
common risk she has run. Nero can punish women as well as men,
and were it to come to his ears that she has enabled me to escape
his vengeance, even the influence of her father might not avail
to save her.”

“I shall remember her always in my prayers,” Aemilia said
earnestly, “and pray that she too may some day come to know the
truth.”

Beric did not answer. Aemilia had explained to him all that
she knew of her religion, but while admitting the beauty of its
teaching, and the loftiness of its morals, he had not yet been
able to bring himself to believe the great facts upon which it
was based.

“We must be moving,” he said, and summoned Philo, who had been
much surprised at Beric’s being so long in conversation with
strangers.

“Send Porus to me,” he said, “and bid Cornelius also come
here.”

The two men came round to the verandah together. “We are
betrayed, Porus,” he said, “and the Romans will be here this
evening.”

Porus grasped the handle of his dagger and looked menacingly
at the farmer. “Our good friend has nought to do with it, Porus;
it is some one from one of the other farms who has taken down the
news to Rhegium. Do you order the others to be in readiness to
start for the camp. But first strip down the hangings of our
room, roll them and the mats and all else in seven bundles, with
all my wife’s clothing and belongings.”

“We need leave little behind. We can take everything,” Porus
said. “The six of us can carry well nigh as much as the same
number of horses, and Philo can take something. I will see about
it immediately.”

“Now, Cornelius,” Beric went on when Porus had left, “you must
prepare your story, and see that your men and the rest of the
household stick to it. You will be sharply questioned. You have
only the truth to say, namely, that some of my band came down
here and threatened to burn your house and slay all in it unless
you agreed to sell us what things we required; that, seeing no
other way of preserving your lives, you agreed to do so. After a
time a young woman–do not say lady–came with two
attendants, and you were forced to provide her with a room; and
as five men were placed here constantly, you still dared give no
information to the authorities, because a watch was also set on
you, and your family would have been slain long before any troops
could arrive here. What you will be most closely questioned about
is as to why we all left you today. They will ask you if any one
has been here. You saw no one, did you?”

“No, my lord. I heard voices in your room, but it was no
business of mine who was with you.”

“That is good,” Beric said. “That is what you must say. You
know someone did come because you heard voices; but you saw
nobody either coming or going, and know not how many of them
there were, nor what was their age. You only know that I summoned
you suddenly, and told you I had been betrayed, and that the
Romans would soon be coming in search of me, and therefore I was
obliged to take to the mountains. But go first and inquire among
the household, and see if any of them noticed persons coming
here.”

“One of the men says that he saw an old peasant with a girl
who asked which was my farm.”

“Then that man must go with us to the mountains. He shall
return safe and unharmed in a few days. The Romans must not know
of this. This is the one point on which you must be silent; on
all others speak freely. It is important to me that it should not
be known whether it was man or woman, old or young, who warned
me.

“I do not threaten you. I know that you are true and honest;
but, to ensure silence among your household, tell them that I
shall certainly find out if the Roman soldiers learn here that it
was an old man and a girl who visited me, and that I will take
dire vengeance on whomsoever tells this to the Romans. Discharge
your man before we leave with him, so that you may say truly that
those the Romans find here are your whole household, and maintain
that not one of them saw who it was who came to me today.”

“I can promise that, my lord. You and the Lady Aemilia have
been kind and good to us, and my wife, the female slave, and the
hired men would do anything for you. As for the children, they
were not present when Balbus said that he had been questioned by
the old man, and can tell nought, however closely they may be
questioned, save that Balbus was here and has gone.”

“I had not thought of that,” Beric said. “Better, then, tell
the soldiers the truth: you had two serving men, but we have
carried one away with us.”

In half an hour all was ready for a start. The two female
slaves, although attached to their mistress, were terrified at
the thoughts of going away among the mountains, although Aemilia
assured them that no harm could happen to them there. Then, with
a hearty adieu to the farmer and his wife, Beric and his
companions shouldered the loads, and with Balbus, Philo, Aemilia,
and the two female slaves made their way up the mountain. As soon
as they started, Beric gave orders to Philo to go on with all
speed to the camp, and to tell Boduoc of the coming of Aemilia,
and bid him order the men at once to prepare a bower at some
short distance from their camp. Accordingly when the party
arrived great fires were blazing, and the outlaws received
Aemilia with shouts of welcome.

“I thank you all,” Beric said, “for my wife and myself. She
knows that in no place could she be so safe as here, guarded by
the brave men who have so faithfully followed her husband.”

So heartily had the men laboured that in the hour and a half
that had elapsed since Philo had arrived a large hut had been
erected a hundred yards from the camp, with a small bower beside
it for the use of the female slaves. A great bonfire burnt in
front, and the interior was lighted by torches of resinous
wood.

“Thanks, my friends,” Beric said. “You have indeed built us a
leafy palace. I need not exhort the guards to be watchful
tonight, for it may be that the traitor who will guide the Romans
to the house where we have been stopping may know something of
the mountains, and guessing the direction of our camp may attempt
to lead them to it. Therefore, Boduoc, let the outposts be thrown
out farther than usual, and let some be placed fully three miles
from here, in all the ravines by which it is likely the enemy
might make their way hither.”

Three days later Philo went down to learn what had passed. He
was ordered not to approach the house, as some soldiers might
have been left there to seize upon any one who came down, but to
remain at a distance until he saw the farmer or one of his
household at work in the fields. He brought back news that the
Romans had arrived on the night they had left, had searched the
house and country round, had closely questioned all there, even
to the children, and had carried off the farmer and his man.
These had returned the next evening. They had been questioned by
the general, who had admonished the farmer severely on his
failure to report the presence of the outlaws at whatever risk to
his family and property; but on their taking an oath that they
were unable to give any information whatever, either as to the
outlaws’ retreat or the persons who had brought up the news of
the intended attack by the Romans, they were released.

Balbus was then sent back to the farm with presents for all
there, and it was agreed that the camp should be broken up. The
general would, in compliance with the orders of Nero, make fresh
efforts to hunt down the band; and as he knew now the
neighbourhood in which they were, and treachery might again
betray the spot, it was better to choose some other locality;
there was, too, no longer any occasion for them to keep together.
They had the mountains to themselves now, and although the wild
animals had been considerably diminished, there were still goats
in the upper ranges, and swine and wild boar in the thickest
parts of the forests. It was also advisable to know what was
passing elsewhere, and to have warning of the approach of any
body of troops from the camps round it. Accordingly, while the
Britons remained with Beric, who took up his quarters in the
forest at the foot of one of the loftiest crags, whence a view
could be obtained of the hills from Rhegium to Cosenza, the rest
were broken up into parties of five. Signals were arranged by
which by smoke during day or fire at night warning could be given
of the approach of an enemy, and also whether it was a mere
scouting party or a strong column.

For another three months they lived among the hills. Their
life was rougher than it had been, for they had now to subsist
entirely upon the spoils of the chase, and bread made of ground
acorns and beechnuts, mixed with a very small portion of flour.
The latter was obtained from lonely cottages, for Beric insisted
that no villages should be entered.

“There may be soldiers in every hamlet on the hills, and I
would have no risk run of death or capture. Did a few of us fall
into their hands it would encourage them to continue their
blockade, but as time goes on, and it is found that their
presence is entirely fruitless, they may be recalled.”

For the first few weeks, indeed, after the failure of the
attempt to entrap Beric, parties were sent up into the hills from
all the camps, for as the remaining band of gladiators was known
to number under a hundred men, it would be no longer necessary
for the assailants to move as an army; but after marching hither
and thither through the forests without finding any signs of the
fugitives the troops returned to their camps, and a fortnight
later the greater portion of them were either transported to
Sicily or sent north, a few hundred men only remaining to watch
for the reappearance of the band. From time to time Philo went
down to Rhegium to gather news of what was passing. As the farmer
had not been troubled since the visit of the troopers, they
renewed their relations with him, except that they abstained from
purchasing food of him lest he should be again questioned.
Nevertheless he occasionally sent up by Philo a skin of wine as a
present to Beric.

“So that I can swear that I have sold them nothing, and that
they have taken nothing, there is little chance of my ever being
asked if I made them a present,” he said.

He was surprised one day by a visit from a Roman, who informed
him that he was secretary to the general, and whom, indeed, he
had seen when brought before him.

“Do you still hear aught of the brigands, Cornelius?” he
asked. The farmer was taken aback by this question.

“No harm is intended you,” Nepo said. “The general may have
reason for desiring to communicate with the band, whose leader at
one time stayed in your house, and which is now the last remnant
of the gladiators among the hills. The search for them has been
given up as vain, and probably he will receive orders from Rome
to withdraw the troops altogether and to offer terms to the
gladiators. At present he cannot communicate with them, and he
would be glad for you to renew your connection with them, not to
assist them by selling them food or receiving them here, but that
you should arrange some means of communication with them.”

“I might manage that,” the farmer said. “It is true that once
or twice some of them have come down here. They have taken
nothing, and have come, I think, more to learn what is passing
without than for any other purpose; but it may be some time
before they come again.”

“At any rate,” Nepo said, “when they do come, do you arrange
for a signal, such, for instance, as lighting two fires on the
crest above there, with plenty of green wood, that would make a
smoke which would be seen for many miles away. This smoke will
tell them that there is a message for them from the general. I
give you my word as a Roman that no treachery is intended, and I
myself, accompanied perhaps by one officer, but no more, will
bring it up here and be in waiting to see their chief; so you see
I should place myself much more in his hands than he in
mine.”

It was but a few days before Beric received this message. It
filled him with hope, for remembering what Berenice had said
about the proclamation of Galba as emperor, it seemed to him that
this life as a fugitive might be approaching its end. For himself
he was perfectly happy. He and his Britons lived much as they had
done at home. It required hard work to keep the larder supplied,
but this only gave a greater zest to the chase. They sighed
sometimes for the cool skies of Britain, but in other respects
they were perfectly contented.

Since the soldiers had been withdrawn they had had no
difficulty in obtaining the two things they most required, flour
and wine, and, indeed, sometimes brought up sacks of grain and
jars of honey, from which they manufactured a sweet beer such as
they had drunk at home, and was to them far better than wine.
Beric, perhaps, was more anxious for a change than any of his
followers. Aemilia seemed perfectly happy, her spirits were as
high now as when he had first known her as a girl at Massilia.
She was the life and soul of the little band, and the Britons
adored her; but Beric remembered that she had been brought up in
comfort and luxury, and longed to give her similar surroundings.
Although for luxuries he himself cared nothing, he did sometimes
feel an ardent desire again to associate with men such as he had
met at the house of Norbanus, to enjoy long talks on literary and
other subjects, and to discuss history and philosophy.

“It is good,” he said one day to Aemilia, “for a man who lives
among his fellows to have learned to enjoy study and to find in
enlightened conversation his chief pleasure, but if his lot is
thrown far from towns it were far better that he had known
nothing of these pleasures.”

One morning Boduoc, who had gone up early to the summit of the
crag, brought down the news that he could make out two columns of
smoke rising from the hill over Rhegium.

“I hope to bring you back good news tomorrow, Aemilia,” Beric
said as he at once prepared to start. “I may find Nepo at the
farm when I get there and may possibly be back tonight, but it is
full six hours’ journey, and as there is no moon I can hardly
travel after sundown.”

“I shall not expect you till tomorrow, Beric. It were best to
arrange that, and then I shall not be looking for you. Even if
Nepo is there when you arrive, you will want a long talk with
him, and it is likely that Pollio will be with him, so do not
think of starting back till the morning.”

It was just noon when Beric reached the farm.

“You are just to the time,” Cornelius said. “I received an
order at daybreak this morning to light the fires and to tell you
if you came that the general’s secretary would be here at noon.
See, there are two figures coming up the hill now.”

The moment he saw that they had passed the fork of the paths
and were really coming to the house Beric rushed down to meet
them, and as he approached saw that they were indeed Pollio and
Nepo. He and Pollio embraced each other affectionately.

“I am well pleased indeed,” Pollio said, “that we meet here
for the first time, and that I did not encounter you in the
forests. By the gods, but you have grown into a veritable giant.
Why, you must overtop the tallest of your band.”

“By an inch or two, Pollio. And you have altered somewhat
too.”

“The cares of matrimony age a man rapidly,” Pollio said
laughing, “though doubtless they sit lightly on your huge
shoulders. Why, you could let my little cousin sit on your hand
and hold her out at arm’s length. I always told her that she
would need a masterful husband to keep her in order, and truly
she is well suited. And now for my news, Beric. Nero is dead. The
news arrived last night.”

Beric uttered an exclamation of surprise. “How died he?” he
asked.

“By his own hand. When the news came that other legions had
followed the example of those of Galba, all fell away from Nero,
and the Praetorians themselves, whom he had petted and spoilt,
having no inclination for a fight with Galba’s legionaries,
proclaimed the latter emperor. Then Nero showed himself a craven,
flying in disguise to the house of Phaon. There he remained in
hiding, weeping and terrified, knowing that he must die, but
afraid to kill himself. He may well have thought then of how many
he had compelled to die, and how calmly and fearlessly they had
opened their veins. It was not until he heard the trampling of
the horsemen sent to seize him that he nerved himself, and even
then could not strike, but placing the point of a dagger against
his breast, bade a slave drive it home.

“The senate proclaimed Galba emperor two days before the death
of Nero; but as yet all is uncertain. There are other generals
whose legions may dispute this point. Syria and Egypt may choose
Vespasian; the Transalpine legions, who favoured Vindex, may
pronounce for some other. The Praetorians themselves, with the
sailors of the fleet, knowing that Galba has the reputation of
being close fisted, may choose someone who may flatter and feast
them as Nero did. As yet there is no saying what will be done,
but at any rate your chief enemy is dead. Muro bids me say that
some months may yet elapse before Galba comes to Rome; but that,
as he has at present no imperial master, and the senate will be
far too busy wrangling and persecuting the adherents of the man
whom but a short time since they declared to be a god, to trouble
themselves about a handful of gladiators in Bruttium, he will at
once collect his troops at Rhegium, and you will be entirely
unmolested if you promise that your band will in no way ill treat
the people. I know that they have not hitherto done so, and that
they will not do so, but the fact that he has a formal engagement
with you to that effect will justify him in withdrawing his
troops. Indeed, he said that it would be better, perhaps, that a
document should be drawn up and signed, in which you pledge
yourself to peaceful courses, urging that it was but the tyranny
of Nero that forced you to become fugitives, and craving that, as
your band has never done any harm to the people, an amnesty may
be granted you. This document will aid him when he meets Galba.
He will not wait until the latter comes to Rome, but will shortly
ask permission from the senate to quit his post for a time, all
being quiet here, and will at once take ship to Massilia and see
Galba. The new emperor is not, he says, a man bent on having his
own way, but always leans on friends for advice, and he feels
sure that his representations will suffice to obtain a free
pardon for your band, and permission for them to leave the
mountains and go wheresoever they will, so that in that case
there will be nought to prevent you and your followers returning
to Britain.”

“This is joyous news indeed, Pollio, and I cannot too warmly
thank the general for his kindness to me. As to Berenice–“

“There, there,” Pollio said laughing, “let us hear nothing
about Berenice. She is a self willed woman, and I am not
responsible for her doings, and want to hear nothing more of them
than she chooses to tell me.”

By this time they had reached the farmhouse, where a meal was
speedily prepared, and they sat talking together until evening,
when Pollio and his companion returned to Rhegium.

Another three months passed. There was now no lack of food
among the outlaws. They still hunted, but it was for amusement,
buying sheep and other animals from the villagers, together with
all else they required, the natives rejoicing in finding good
customers instead of dangerous neighbours among the hills.

At last the signal smokes again ascended, and Beric, taking
Aemilia with him, made his way to the farmhouse, where he learned
that Nepo had been there with a message that he desired to see
Beric in Rhegium. This was sufficient to show that Muro’s mission
had been to some extent successful, and after resting for an hour
or two at the farmhouse they descended the hill. Beric had
purchased suitable garments to replace the goatskins which had
for a long time previously been worn by the outlaws, their rough
work in the woods having speedily reduced their garments to rags,
and save that men looked up and marvelled his size, he passed
almost unnoticed through the streets of Rhegium to the house of
the general. Orders had been given that he was to be admitted,
for the sentries passed him without question. As the slave at the
door conducted them into the atrium Muro advanced with
outstretched hands.

“Welcome! thrice welcome, Beric! Had I not heard from Pollio
how you had changed, I should not have recognized in you the
British lad I parted with six years ago in Britain. And this is
your wife? Pollio, spare your cousin to me for a moment. I am
glad to know you, Aemilia. I never met your father, though I have
often heard of him as a noble Roman, and I know that his daughter
is worthy of being the wife of Beric, not only from what I have
heard of you from my son in law, but from your readiness to share
the exile and perils of your husband. I see that Berenice has
greeted you as if she knew you. A month since I should have said
that that was impossible,” and a smile passed over his face, “but
now I may admit that it may have been. And now for my news. I
have seen Galba, and have strongly represented to him the whole
facts of the case, and I have, under his hand, a free pardon for
yourself and all your followers, who are permitted to go
wheresoever they please, without molestation from any. But more
than that, I have represented to him how useful it would be that
the Britons of the east, where the great rising against Rome took
place, should be governed by one of their own chiefs, who, having
a knowledge of the might and power of Rome, would, more than any
other, be able to influence them in remaining peaceful and
adopting somewhat of our civilization. He has, therefore, filled
up an appointment creating you provincial governor of that part
of Britain lying north of the Thames as far as the northern
estuary, and bounded on the east by the region of swamps–the
land of the Trinobantes, the Iceni, and a portion of the
Brigantes–with full power over that country, and answerable
only to the propraetor himself. Moreover, he has written to him
on the subject, begging him to give you a free hand, and to
support you warmly against the minor Roman officials of the
district. I need not say that I answered for you fully, and
pledged myself that you would in all things be faithful to Rome,
and would use your influence to the utmost to reconcile the
people to our rule.”

Beric was for a time too overcome to be able to thank Muro for
his kindness.

“I have repaid in a small way the debt that I and Pollio owe
you,” he said. “The senate has not at present ratified the
appointment, but that is a mere form, and it will not be
presented to them until Galba arrives. They are eagerly looking
for his coming to free them from the excesses and tyranny of the
Praetorian guard, led by Nymphidius the prefect, who has himself
been scheming to succeed Nero, and they will ratify without
question all that Galba may request. In the meantime there need
be no delay. We can charter a ship to convey you and your British
and Gaulish followers to Massilia. Galba is already supreme
there, and thence you can travel as a Roman official of high
rank. I will, of course, furnish you with means to do so.”

“In that respect I am still well provided,” Beric said. “Nero,
with all his faults, was generous, and was, in addition to my
appointments, continually loading me with presents, which I could
not refuse. Even after paying for all that was necessary for my
band during the past year, I am a wealthy man, and have ample to
support Aemilia in luxury to the end of our lives.”

“You will, of course, draw no pay until your arrival in
Britain; but after that your appointment will be ample. However,
I shall insist upon chartering the ship to convey you to
Massilia.”

The beacon fires were lighted again next morning, and an hour
later Beric met Boduoc, whom he had, on leaving, directed to
follow with the Britons, and to post himself near the crest of
the hills. He returned with him to the band, who were transported
with delight at hearing the news. Messengers were at once sent
off to the party under Gatho, and on the following day the whole
band reassembled, the joy of the Gauls being no less than that of
the Britons.

“You will have to take me with you, Beric,” Porus said. “I am
fit for nothing here save the arena. I have been away from
Scythia since I was a boy, and should find myself a stranger
there.”

“I will gladly take you, Porus, and will find you a wife among
my countrywomen. You have shared in my perils, and should share
in my good fortunes. You must all remain here among the hills
till I send you up word that the ship is in readiness. Boduoc
will come down with me, and will send up to the farm garments to
replace your sheepskins, for truly Rhegium would be in an uproar
did you descend in your present garb. Boduoc will bring you
instructions as to your coming down. It were best that you came
after nightfall, and in small parties, and went direct on board
the ship which he will point out to you. We do not wish to
attract attention or to cause a talk in the town, as the news
would be carried to Rome, and the senate might question the right
of Muro to act upon a document which they have not yet ratified.
Therefore we wish it kept quiet until the arrival of Galba at
Rome.”

A week later the whole party stood on the deck of a ship in
the port of Rhegium. Beric had bidden farewell to Muro at his
house; Pollio and Berenice accompanied him and Aemilia on
board.

“I do not mean this as a farewell for ever, Beric,” Pollio
said. “I foresee that we are going to have troubled times in
Rome. Nero was the last of his race, and no one now has greater
right than his fellows to be emperor. Now that they have once
begun these military insurrections, for the proclamation of Galba
was nothing else, I fear we shall have many more. The throne is
open now to any ambitious man who is strong enough to grasp it.
Generals will no longer think of defeating the enemies of their
country and of ruling provinces. As propraetors they will seek to
gain the love and vote of their soldiers; discipline will become
relaxed, and the basest instead of the noblest passions of the
troops be appealed to. We may have civil wars again, like those
of Marius and Scylla, and Anthony and Brutus. I hate the
intrigues of Rome, and loathe the arts of the demagogue, and to
this our generals will descend. Therefore I shall soon apply for
service in Britain again. Muro approves, and when I obtain an
office there he will come out and build another villa, and settle
and end his days there.

“There is little chance of the troops in Britain dealing in
intrigues. They are too far away to make their voice heard, too
few to impose their will upon Rome. Therefore he agrees with me
that there is more chance of peace and contentment there than
anywhere. The Britons have given no trouble since the Iceni
surrendered, and I look to the time when we shall raise our towns
there and live surrounded by a contented people. You may visit
Muro at his house in Camalodunum once again, Beric.”

“It will be a happy day for us when you come, Pollio, you and
Berenice; and glad indeed shall I be to have her noble father
dwelling among us. Whatever troubles there may be in other parts
of Britain I cannot say, but I think I can answer that in Eastern
Britain there will never again be a rising.”

“They are throwing off the ropes,” Pollio said; “we must go
ashore. May the gods keep and bless you both!”

“And may my God, who has almost become Beric’s God, also bless
you and Berenice and Muro!” Aemilia said.

Ten minutes later the ship had left port, and was making her
way up the Straits of Messina. The weather was fair with a
southerly wind, running before which the ship coasted along
inside the mountainous isle of Sardinia, passed through the
straits between that and Corsica, then shaped its course for
Massilia, where it arrived without adventure. There was some
surprise in the town at the appearance of Beric and his
followers, and they were escorted by the guard at the port to the
house of the chief magistrate. On Beric’s presenting to him his
appointment, signed by Galba, and the safe conduct for himself
and his comrades, the magistrate invited him and Aemilia to stay
at his house. There were many officials to whom Aemilia was known
when she dwelt there with her father, and for ten days they
stayed in the city. The Gauls of Beric’s party proceeded to their
various destinations on the day after they landed, Beric making a
present to each to enable them to defray the expenses of their
travel to their respective homes, and obtaining a separate safe
conduct for each from the chief magistrate. Bidding adieu to
their friends at Massilia the Britons started north.

While in the town Beric obtained for his twenty followers a
dress which was a mixture of that of the Britons and Romans,
having the trousers or leggings of the British and the short
Roman tunic. All were armed with sword, shield, and spear.
Aemilia travelled in a carriage; the two female slaves had been
given their freedom and left behind at Rhegium. Beric was
handsomely attired in a dress suitable to his rank, but, like his
followers, wore the British leggings. A horse was taken with them
for him to ride when they passed through towns, but generally it
was led by Philo, and Beric marched with his men. They took long
journeys, for the men were all eager to be home, and, inured as
they were to fatigue, thought nothing of doing each day double
the distance that was regarded as an ordinary day’s journey.

At the towns through which they passed the people gazed with
surprise at Beric and his bodyguard, and warm sympathy was shown
by the Gauls for the Britons returning after their captivity in
Rome. On arriving at the northwesterly port of Gaul, Beric
learned that London, Verulamium, and Camalodunum had been
rebuilt, and that the propraetor had established himself in
London as his chief place of residence. Beric therefore hired a
ship, which sailed across the straits to the mouth of the Thames,
ascended the river, and four days after putting out anchored at
London. Beric and his followers were surprised at the change
which had been effected in the six years which had passed since
they saw it a heap of ruins. A temple of Diana had been erected
on the highest point of ground. Near this was the palace of the
propraetor, and numerous villas of the Roman officials were
scattered on the slopes. A strong wall surrounded the Roman
quarter, beyond which clustered the houses of the traders,
already forming a place of considerable size.

Upon landing Beric proceeded, accompanied by Boduoc, to the
palace of the propraetor, to whom he presented Galba’s letter
especially recommending him, and his own official appointment.
Celsius, who had succeeded Petronius as propraetor, had received
Beric sitting; but upon reading the document rose and greeted him
cordially.

“I have heard much of you, Beric, since I came here,” he said,
“and many have been the entreaties of your people to me that I
would write to Rome to pray Caesar to restore you to them. I did
so write to Nero, but received no reply; but my friends keep me
acquainted with what is passing there, and the story of your
combat with the lion in the arena, and of your heading a revolt
in Nero’s palace reached me. As it was about the time of the
latter event that I wrote to Caesar, I wondered not that I
received no answer to my letter. After that I heard that you had
been giving terrible trouble in Bruttium to Caius Muro, and
little dreamed that my next news of you would be that Galba had
appointed you Governor of the Eastern Province.”

“It was upon the recommendation and by the good offices of
Muro,” Beric said. “I had been brought up at his house at
Camalodunum, and had the good fortune to save his daughter’s life
at the sack of that city. He knew that I had been driven by the
conduct of Nero into revolt, and that, even though in arms
against Rome, I and my band had injured and robbed no Roman man
or woman. He represented to Galba that, holding in high respect
the power of Rome, and being well regarded by my people here, I
should, more than any stranger, be able to persuade them of the
madness of any further rising against the imperial power, and to
induce them to apply themselves to the arts of agriculture, and
to become, like the Gauls, a settled people contented and
prosperous.

“These arguments had weight with the emperor, who, as you see,
has been pleased to appoint me governor of the province that my
people occupied, together with that adjoining on the south,
formerly belonging to the Trinobantes, and on the north occupied
by a portion of the Brigantes.”

“I think the emperor has done well, and I look for great
results from your appointment, Beric. I am convinced that it is
the best policy to content a conquered people by placing over
them men of their own race and tongue, instead of filling every
post by strangers who are ignorant of their ways and customs, and
whose presence and dress constantly remind them that they are
governed by their conquerors. Where do you think of establishing
yourself–at Camalodunum?”

“No. Camalodunum is a Roman town; the people would not so
freely come to me there to arbitrate in their disputes. I shall
fix it at Norwich, which lies midway between Camalodunum and the
northern boundary of the province, and through which, as I hear,
one of your roads has now been made.”

After staying three days in London as the guest of Celsius,
Beric started for the seat of his government, attended by his own
bodyguard and a centurion with a company of Roman soldiers. The
news that a British governor had been appointed to the province
spread rapidly, and at Verulamium, where he stopped for two days,
crowds of the country people assembled and greeted him with
shouts of welcome. Beric assured them that he had been sent by
the emperor Galba, who desired to see peace and contentment reign
in Britain, and had therefore appointed a countryman of their own
as governor of their province, and that, though he should make
Norwich the place of his government, he should journey about
throughout the country, listen to all complaints and grievances,
and administer justice against offenders, whatever their rank and
station.

Above all he exhorted them to tranquillity and obedience.
“Rome wishes you well,” he said, “and would fain see you as
contented beneath her sway as is Gaul, and as are the other
countries she has conquered and occupied. We form part of the
Roman Empire now, that is as fixed and irrevocable as the rising
and setting of the sun. To struggle against Rome is as great a
folly as for an infant to wrestle with a giant. But once forming
a part of the empire we shall share in its greatness. Towns will
rise over the land and wealth increase, and all will benefit by
the civilization that Rome will bring to us.”

He addressed similar speeches to the people at each halting
place, and was everywhere applauded, for the Trinobantes had felt
most heavily the power of Rome, and all thought of resistance had
faded out since the terrible slaughter that followed the defeat
of Boadicea.

Beric did not turn aside to enter Camalodunum, but kept his
course north. The news of his coming had preceded him, and the
Iceni flocked to meet him, and gave him an enthusiastic welcome.
They were proud of him as a national hero; he alone of their
chiefs had maintained resistance against the Romans, and his
successes had obliterated the humiliation of their great defeat.
Great numbers of those who came to meet him owed their lives to
the refuge he had provided for them in the swamps, and they
considered that it was to his influence they owed it, that after
his capture they were allowed to return to their native villages,
and to take up their life there unmolested by the Romans.

The members of his band, too, found relations and friends
among the crowd, and it added to their enthusiasm that Beric had
brought back with him every one of his companions in captivity.
Aemilia was much affected at the evidence of her husband’s
popularity, and at the shouting crowd of great fair haired men
and women who surged round the escort, and who, when Beric took
her by the hand and bidding her stand up in the chariot presented
her to the Iceni as his wife, shouted for her almost as
enthusiastically as they had done for him.

“What a little insignificant thing these tall British matrons
and maids must think me, Beric!” she said.

“We all admire our opposites, Aemilia, that is how it was that
you came to fall in love with me; these people can have seen but
few Roman ladies, and doubtless there is not one among them who
does not think as I do, that with your dark hair and eyes, and
the rich colour of your cheek, you are the loveliest woman that
they ever saw.”

“If they knew what you were saying they would lose all respect
for you, Beric,” she said laughing and colouring. “We have been
married nearly a year, sir–a great deal too long for you to
pay me compliments.”

“You must remember that you are in Britain now, Aemilia, and
though in Rome men regard themselves as the lords and masters of
their wives it is not so here, where women are looked upon as in
every way equal to men. I expect that you will quite change under
the influence of British air, and that though I am nominally
governor it is you who will rule. You will see that in a short
time the people will come to you with their petitions as readily
as to me.”

As soon as Beric established himself at Norwich he set about
the erection of a suitable abode; the funds were provided as was
usual from the treasury of the province–a certain sum from the
taxes raised being set aside to pay the share of the national
tribute to Rome, while the rest was devoted to the payment of
officials, the construction of roads, public works, and
buildings. Long before the house was finished a child was born to
Beric, the event being celebrated with great festivity by the
Iceni, contrary to their own customs, for among themselves a
birth was regarded rather as an occasion of mourning than of
rejoicing.

Beric set vigorously to work to put the affairs of the
province in order; he appointed Boduoc to an important office
under him, and to act for him during his absences, which were at
first frequent, as he constantly travelled about the country
holding courts, redressing grievances, punishing and degrading
officials who had abused their position or ill treated the
people, and appointing in many cases natives in their places.
Bitter complaints were made by the dispossessed Roman officials
to Celsius, who, however, declined in any way to interfere,
saying that Beric had received the fullest powers from Galba, and
that, moreover, did he interfere with him it was clear that there
would be another revolt of the Iceni.

Galba fell, and was succeeded by Otho, who was very shortly
afterwards followed by Vespasian, a just, though severe emperor.
Complaints were laid before him by powerful families, whose
relations had been dismissed by Beric, and the latter was ordered
to furnish a full explanation of his conduct. Beric replied by a
long and full report of his government. Vespasian was greatly
struck alike by the firmness with which Beric defended himself,
and by the intelligence and activity with which, as the report
showed, he had conducted the affairs of his province; he
therefore issued an order for the disaffected officials to return
at once to Rome, confirmed Beric in the powers granted him by
Galba, and gave him full authority to dismiss even the highest
Roman officials in the district should he see occasion to do
so.

Roman towns and stations had sprung up all over the island,
roads and bridges opened the way for trade. Now that the tribal
wars had ceased, and the whole people had become welded into one,
they turned their attention more and more to agriculture. The
forest diminished rapidly in extent; the Roman plough took the
place of the rough hoe of the Briton, houses of brick and stone
that of rough huts; intermarriages became frequent. The Roman
legionaries became established as military colonists and took
British wives. The foreign traders and artisans, who formed the
bulk of the populations of the towns, did the same; and although
this in the end had the effect of diminishing the physical
proportions of the British, and lowering the lofty stature and
size that had struck the Romans on their landing with
astonishment, it introduced many characteristics hitherto wanting
in the race, and aided in their conversion from tribes of fierce
warriors into a settled and semi-civilized people.

Among the many who came to Britain, were some Christians who
sought homes in the distant island to escape the persecutions at
Rome. There was soon a colony of these settled at Norwich under
the protection of Aemilia. They brought with them an eloquent
priest, and in a short time Beric, already strongly inclined to
the Christian religion, openly accepted that faith, which spread
rapidly throughout his government. Porus was not long in finding
a British wife, and never regretted the day when he left the
ludus of Scopus and joined his fortunes to those of Beric. Philo
embraced Christianity, and became a priest of that church.

A year after Beric came to Britain he and Aemilia were
delighted by the arrival of Pollio and Berenice with Caius Muro.
The former had at the accession of Otho, with whom his family
were connected, obtained a civil appointment in Britain, and at
Beric’s request Celsius appointed him to the control of the
collection of taxes in his district, there being constant
complaints among the people of the rapacity and unfairness of the
Roman official occupying this position. Pollio therefore
established himself also at Norwich; Muro, with whom came Cneius
Nepo, taking up his residence there with him, and as many other
Roman families were there, neither Aemilia nor Berenice ever
regretted the loss of the society of Rome. Pollio proved an
excellent official, and ably seconded Beric in his efforts to
render the people contented.

Had Beric foreseen the time when the Romans would abandon
Britain, and leave it to the mercy of the savages of the north
and of the pirates of North Germany and Scandinavia, he would
have seen that the extinction of the martial qualities of the
British would lead to their ruin; but that Rome would decay and
fall to pieces and become the prey of barbarians, was a
contingency beyond human ken, and he and those who worked with
him thought that the greatest blessing they could bestow upon
their country was to render it a contented and prosperous
province of the Roman Empire. This he succeeded in doing in his
own government, and when, full of years and rich in the affection
of his countrymen, he died, his son succeeded him in the
government, and for many generations the eastern division of the
island was governed by descendants of Beric the Briton.

THE END

Beric the Briton

A Story of the Roman Invasion

by G. A. Henty

CHAPTER I: A HOSTAGE

CHAPTER II: CITY AND FOREST

CHAPTER III: A WOLF HUNT

CHAPTER IV: AN INFURIATED PEOPLE

CHAPTER V: THE SACK OF CAMALODUNUM

CHAPTER VI: FIRST SUCCESSES

CHAPTER VII: DEFEAT OF THE BRITONS

CHAPTER VIII: THE GREAT SWAMPS

CHAPTER IX: THE STRUGGLE IN THE SWAMP

CHAPTER X: BETRAYED

CHAPTER XI: A PRISONER

CHAPTER XII: A SCHOOL FOR GLADIATORS

CHAPTER XIII: A CHRISTIAN

CHAPTER XIV: ROME IN FLAMES

CHAPTER XV: THE CHRISTIANS TO THE LIONS

CHAPTER XVI: IN NERO’S PALACE

CHAPTER XVII: BETROTHAL

CHAPTER XVIII: THE OUTBREAK

CHAPTER XIX: OUTLAWS

CHAPTER XX: MOUNTAIN WARFARE

CHAPTER XXI: OLD FRIENDS

CHAPTER I: A
HOSTAGE

CHAPTER
III: A WOLF HUNT

CHAPTER IV: AN INFURIATED
PEOPLE

CHAPTER V:
THE SACK OF CAMALODUNUM

CHAPTER VII: DEFEAT OF
THE BRITONS

CHAPTER VIII: THE GREAT
SWAMPS

CHAPTER IX: THE STRUGGLE IN
THE SWAMP

CHAPTER X:
BETRAYED

CHAPTER
XI: A PRISONER

CHAPTER
XII: A SCHOOL FOR GLADIATORS

CHAPTER
XIII: A CHRISTIAN

CHAPTER XV: THE
CHRISTIANS TO THE LIONS

CHAPTER XVI: IN NERO’S
PALACE

CHAPTER
XVII: BETROTHAL

CHAPTER XIX:
OUTLAWS

CHAPTER XX: MOUNTAIN
WARFARE

CHAPTER
XXI: OLD FRIENDS