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.The three young men, therefore, proceeded with great caution, but they had no further adventures.They climbed to the Ridgeway track which they followed for some time.It was almost deserted.The natives they did pass occasionally were old or very young, and incurious.It was clear that the vigorous portion of the Atrebate population was not there, and all too easy to guess where they had gone.Calleva, the Atrebate capital near Silchester, also seemed deserted, a circumstance which Fabian found sinister.He told the others that once there had been a Roman camp adjoining the British town, where for some years following the Claudian conquest, the Atrebates had lived on friendly enough commercial terms with their conquerors.But now the Roman camp was as abandoned as the town seemed to be, though the three young men dared not investigate closely.But they found mute testimony of what must have happened as they picked up the road again the other side of town and nearly stumbled over the body of a man in a Roman jerkin.The jerkin was marked with the sign that showed him to be a veteran of the legions.The Roman sprawled face down as though felled in a frantic rush to escape.The back of his head was crushed in; the blood-stained slingshot stone which had crushed it lay beside him.“There were sights like these along the way when I marched down from Lincoln with the Ninth,” said Quintus grimly, turning from the dead Roman.“And we dare not even take the time to give him burial rites.”“No,” said Fabian.Nobody spoke again for a long time.They followed the good road that the Romans had built, and the next noon came upon a milestone that said “A Londinio XX.” The milestone had been overturned; filth and the half burned entrails of some animals were scattered on it.They gazed at this small senseless expression of hatred, then Fabian said, “Twenty miles to London, or what was once London, but ‘Caesar’s Camp’ is considerably nearer.We’ll soon know now if Suetonius is there.”They kicked the horses’ flanks and broke into a rough gallop.The sun came out from behind clouds.It shone upon the loops and windings of the Thames and it shone--after they had struck through forest and emerged onto a broad heath--upon the sight they had all prayed to see.Above strong circular ramparts made of earth and timber and stone, the eagle standard reared itself proudly and the imperial flag was flying!They dismounted by the great ditch which was the outer ring of fortification, and suddenly all three of them looked at each other, and joined hands in a firm quick clasp.They needed no words to seal their friendship; the recognition of all they had been through together, and of what was still to come, was enough for each of them.Leading the horses, they strode to the first sentry post The lookout on the ramparts had already seen them and recognized Dio and Fabian.Here there was no difficulty, no mystery as at Gloucester’s fortress.Here they were received with shouts of joy, and backslappings, and a chorus of eager excited questions.“Where’s the Second? Are they just behind? We’ve been watching for days!”The questions were soon repeated by the governor himself, for they were ushered at once to Suetonius’ red and white striped tent in the centre of the fort He got up to receive them, his heavy-jawed ruddy face alight with relief.“Welcome! Welcome, imperial messengers!” he cried.“You too?” he added, recognizing Quintus with a smile.“So you are all together.Ah, this is good news.Where’s General Valerianus and the Second? Are you much ahead of them?”“Your Excellency,” Fabian dropped to one knee, and, fixing his eyes on the governor’s gilded sandals, continued very low, “we bring bad news.The Second Legion has not left Gloucester.”“Not left Gloucester! But this is monstrous.I can’t delay battle much longer.It’ll take at least five days’ march to bring the whole legion.What’s the matter with them? When are they starting?”Fabian grew very pale.He cast one quick glance toward Dio and Quintus, then-raised his eyes resolutely to the governor’s empurpling face.“They are not starting, I’m afraid--Your Excellency.”The governor’s harsh breath rasped through the tent “Have they been slaughtered? Has the fortress fallen? By all the gods, what has happened?”“Nothing has happened to the legion, Excellency, they’re all right--I--we--” Fabian looked beyond the governor to the officers and guards clustered around the back of the tent and the entrance.“For the honour of Rome, Excellency, it is better that we tell you alone,” he said very low.It looked as though the governor’s ready and violent temper might get the better of him, but he restrained it and made a signal.The other men left the tent, all but the general of the Fourteenth, and Petillius Cerealis of the Ninth, who had greeted Quintus with a quick look of welcome.These two stood behind the governor as Fabian explained what had happened to the Second.“You mean,” roared Suetonius, banging his fist on the table, “that because Valerianus is a madman, and the prefect a coward, the Royal ‘Augusta’ Legion refuses to obey my orders? You mean that half of Rome’s military force in Britain is bottled up useless on the other side of the island, while the Britons are preparing to massacre us all?”“It is so, Excellency.”“Do you two say the same?” said the governor looking at Dio and Quintus.They bowed their heads.“It is so, Excellency.”Suetonius slumped heavily onto his chair.Beneath the brilliant gilt of his cuirass, his shoulders sagged.The thick fingers of his right hand drummed slowly on the table top, while he stared, frowning, at the wooden floor.“Leave me alone, all of you!” he muttered.“You’ll get your orders later.”Silently, the two generals and the three messengers filed out of the tent.General Petillius put his hand on Quintus’ shoulder as they started across the parade ground.“Come with me--I want to talk to you.”In Petillius’ quarters, Quintus enjoyed the first full meal he had had in days.His general sent for a flask of Gaulish wine and indulgently watched Quintus drink and eat, forbearing as yet to question him.“You don’t eat too, sir?” asked Quintus timidly, after a bit.“No, I’m not hungry,” said Petillius briefly, though his tired eyes smiled.Quintus saw that there were new grooves in Petillius’ thin cheeks; he no longer seemed like a very young general.Suddenly Quintus guessed.“This is your own supper I’m eating, isn’t it, sir?” he said unhappily.“Food must be getting very low in camp.”“We’ll hold out a few more days,” said Petillius.“Boadicea’s forces too are short of provisions.They’ve descended like a storm of locusts on all the country north of the Thames.And they sowed no crops this spring--so certain were they of victory.”“I wonder they haven’t crossed the Thames and attacked us,” said Quintus, putting down his wine cup.“We--Dio, Fabian, and I--were dreadfully afraid of that during these days we were struggling to get here.”“Boadicea is so confident that she’s been in no hurry for the final showdown.These three weeks since the sack of Colchester, and our”--Petillius paused and went on through tight lips--”the disaster to the Ninth, she’s been fully occupied, burning and plundering--London, Colchester, St.Albans [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]