The Lion's Brood
II.
THE GATE.
A harsh cry of command or warning rang out ahead, and the rheda stoppedshort with a jolt. Ligurius had thrown his horse upon his haunches andthen backed him so as to take post at that side of the vehicleunprotected by Caipor; but, a moment later, the rush of a dozen tallfigures thrust them both away, the curtains were torn aside, and Marcialooked out into savage faces and great, staring, blue eyes. Three orfour overlapping circlets of iron just above the hips seemed the limitof these men's defensive armour, and the skin of some animal was thrownabout the brawny shoulders of such as had not replaced their barbaricmantles with the Roman military cloak; the hair of each, black or red,but always long and indescribably filthy, was caught up in a knot atthe top of the head, whence it streamed away, loose or matted, like thetail of an unkempt horse; their feet were bare, and their legs werecovered by linen breeches bound close with leathern thongs. It needednot the great broad-swords slung about their shoulders to tell them forHannibal's Gauls--creatures scarcely half human, whose name broughtterror to the Roman maiden of the days of Cannae, as the sight of themhad carried death or slavery to her less-favoured sister of the blackerdays of the Allia.
But Marcia showed little of womanish weakness. To the jargon of adozen voices--a jargon that sounded like the yelping and barking of apack of dogs--she opposed a cold and dignified silence. A dozen handsreached out to touch her, as they would touch something strange andadmirable; but she drew back, and the rude hands and staring, blue eyesfell before the flash of her indignation.
At that instant, a man strode forward, hurling the soldiers from hispath to right and left, or striking them fiercely with his staff.Taller by almost half a head than the others, his richer vesture andarms, but, above all, the gold collar about his neck and the goldbracelets upon his arms, marked the chief. Standing by the rheda, hemet Marcia's look of proud defiance, for a moment; then his eyesshifted and seemed to wander; but, cloaking with martial sternness theembarrassment of the barbarian, he spoke in Gallic:--
"Who are you?"
Unable to understand the question, much less to answer it, she turnedaway and ignored both the man and his words. Again the look ofindecision and embarrassment returned to his face; but, glancing round,he saw Ligurius struggling in the hands of his captors, and caught somewords of Gallic in his half-throttled remonstrances.
"Bring him," he said shortly, with a motion of his staff, and thefreedman, who had been roughly pulled from his horse, was thrustforward, his clothes hanging in tatters, and his face bruised andbleeding from his efforts to break loose and guard his mistress fromintrusion or insult.
"Who is _she_, and who are you?" asked the chief, sternly; for hiseyes, now that they looked into those of a man and an inferior, hadregained all their wild fierceness.
Ligurius hesitated, partly from lack of wind and partly from a doubt asto how much or what it would be wise to tell.
"Speak!" cried the other, impatiently.
Marcia threw aside the curtains which had been allowed to fall back intheir place, and leaned out. The scene looked critical; the Gaul'sface was working with nervous irritation, while his followers, scarcelyrecovered from his sudden onslaught, stood around in a ring, somefingering their swords, and with expressions whose wonder and stupidityseemed fast giving place to the lust of blood and plunder. Caipor hadbeen knocked senseless at the beginning, and the driver was in thehands of several soldiers.
Ligurius looked inquiringly at his mistress.
"He asks who we are," he said. "What shall I say?"
"Ah! you plot to deceive me," cried the Gaul, losing control of histemper, and, before Marcia could answer, he struck the freedman downwith his staff. One of his followers shifted his sword belt, and, halfdrawing the great weapon, stepped forward; but Marcia had sprung fromthe rheda, and stood, with clenched hands and flashing eyes, above herprostrate attendant.
"Bandits! Murderers!" she cried. "Does your general permit you to roband kill travellers that seek to enter a friendly city?"
Understanding the act rather than the words, the soldier halted, andthe chief's eyes began again to shift nervously; but soon an expressionof mingled lust and cunning came into them.
"You are beautiful," he said. "You shall not die, you shall dwell inmy hut."
Marcia shuddered at the glance and change of tone. He reached out hisarms, tattooed in blue designs, and made as if to advance. She drew adagger from her girdle. Infuriated by the sight of what he took to bea hostile weapon, the barbarian's sword was out in an instant. Then heperceived that the dagger was directed not at his breast, but at thewoman's. The point of the great sword, already half raised, droppedslowly to the ground, and a new look of embarrassed amazement took theplace of the momentary glare of savage fury.
How it would have ended never transpired, for a commotion at the gateattracted the attention of all. A small detachment of soldiers wasadvancing, at a leisurely pace, headed by a young officer whose armsblazed with gold and silver. No Hannibalian veterans these. As theycame near, even Marcia could note the sleek, soft look of the men, andtheir listless, muscleless gait; while their leader's hair and personliterally reeked with perfumes. His eyes turned slowly from the hugeGaul to the woman; then a flash of animation lent them light.
"How is this?" he asked. "Why this tumult? Who are these people?"
The Gaul shook his head defiantly, as if ignorant of the speech of hisinterrogator, while his followers began to nudge each other, pointingout the round limbs and fresh complexions of the Capuans, and laughingscornfully.
The young officer flushed, and, turning to Marcia, repeated thequestion.
"I am a Roman. Do you not understand my tongue?" she said.
He glanced fearfully at the Gauls. Then, reassured by their evidentfailure to comprehend, he regained his assurance and answered:--
"Surely, lady, an educated Capuan cannot fail to understand alllanguages, civilized or barbarous. I speak the Greek, the Roman--all;only permit me to beg you to be less frank in naming your city: 'Roman'is a dangerous word to use here. What has led one so beautiful and soaccomplished to run the risk of such a journey? Do you not know thatHannibal and his men are in Capua? That is why these beasts have beenable to disturb you; but fear not," he continued, as she was about tospeak, "_I_ also am here to protect you," and he accompanied the words,with a glance that left the nature of the protection offered more thanequivocal.
Suppressing her mingled feelings of disgust and amusement, Marciaanswered haughtily:--
"May Jove favour you for your offer; but has it come that the expectedguest of Pacuvius Calavius needs protection at the gate of Capua?"
Amazement and deference were at once apparent in his changed manner.
"Ah!" he said slowly, as if trying to gather his wits; "that isdifferent--very different. It is a double regret that these verminhave troubled you; but you are safe now."
Marcia found herself wondering whether he would allude to the Gauls soscornfully had they been able to understand his words.
The Capuan turned to the Gallic chief, who, together with hisfollowers, had drawn nearer.
"Make way!" he cried. "Loose the slave that drives." Then to his ownmen, "Raise up the two that are hurt;" and to Marcia, "And you, lady;will it please you to return to your carriage?"
But the Gauls, although evidently understanding the nature of hisorders, showed no disposition to obey them. On the contrary, at a fewwords from their chief, they pushed closer yet, and some of them evenbegan to jostle the soldiers of the Capuan guard. A light blow or asharp word bade fair to precipitate a conflict that, despite thenumerical equality, could hardly be doubtful in its outcome, when asharp, commanding voice rang out behind.
All swung around, as if to meet a blow, and the press opened. A rider,glittering in arms of simple but rich design, and mounted upon a blackhorse, was advancing from the gate. Two Spaniards, who rode severalspear lengths behind him, were his sole escort; but,
alone or at thehead of a legion, it was all the same: no eye of Gaul or Capuan sawaught but the one horseman; and yet it was not easy to tell wherein theforce lay. He was a young man, probably twenty--possibly twenty-five,for life advanced quickly under the sun of Africa. His figure wasslender and boyish, his face thinly bearded, a lack which wasaccentuated by the beard being divided into two points. Yes, now they,saw; it was his eyes that had dispelled the boast and swagger of theGaul, the superciliousness of the Capuan, and whatever of brawlingboldness had been in either. These eyes were black and large andflashing with courage and energy and the pride of noble birth. Nodetail of the scene seemed to escape their first glance, and he askedno question, as he rode into the crowd.
"Ardix," he said, addressing the Gaul in his own tongue, "back to yourgate! and you," turning to the Capuan officer and changing his languagewith ready ease, "it would be wise for you to consider the unwisdom ofquarrelling with our veterans."
There was just enough of contempt in the inference of the last word tocheck the flow of explanation and complaint that was rising to the lipsof the young exquisite. The newcomer had turned his back. The Capuansaw his followers slinking away with Ardix and his Gauls. It was hardto lose a chance of talking with a great man, and surely a few of thewords he could choose and speak so well would compel the Carthaginianto value him at his worth. Still, there was something that impressedupon him the unwisdom of speech, and, after a moment of embarrassedindecision, he turned and strode away after the rest, seeking toconceal the humiliation of his retreat by the swagger of his gait andthe fierceness of his expression--which there was no one to see.
While this little comedy was passing, he, whose advent had been itsoccasion, was regarding Marcia fixedly; but he now looked into eyesthat neither quailed nor wandered before his own. At last he spoke,and in Latin:--
"I am Mago, the son of Hamilcar. What brings a Roman woman to Capua inthese days?"
This youth, then, was the famous brother of Hannibal; the commander ofthe ambush at the Trebia. His voice was cold, harsh, and metallic, andin his eyes there was none of the rude lust of the Gaul or the polishedlicentiousness of the Capuan. They burned only with the fires thatlight the souls of patriots and leaders of men.
"I come," said Marcia, slowly, "for several reasons, and believing thatCarthage does not make war upon women."
The eyes lost nothing of their cold scrutiny at the implied complimentor the covert reproach.
"And what reasons?" he asked sharply.
"For the one," replied Marcia, and she was conscious of an effort inholding her voice to its steady inflection; "that my house is bound inhospitality to that of Pacuvius Calavius--"
Mago's brow cleared for an instant.
"Our friend," he said. "He is married to one of your Claudians." Thenit darkened again as he continued: "Well, and you seek him for what?To tempt him back to Rome?"
"I seek him," said Marcia, boldly, "because I am wise. Have I not seenthe narrowing of Rome's resources? the quarrels of the factions? Ihave come from there, and I tell you that, if Hannibal have patienceuntil the spring, it is Rome that will beg him to take her. What parthas a woman with a man who cannot protect himself! Let her look for anew defender, if she be wise."
An odd look had come into the Carthaginian's face as she spoke, a lookmore scornful but less threatening.
"You speak true woman's philosophy," he said. "That is the philosophyof these times. I am convinced that there _were_ days, and women--butpah! now it is only glory that is worthy to be a man's bride. Come, Iwill lead you to the house of Calavius."
Ligurius had recovered sufficiently to remount his horse, while Mago'sattendants had laid the still senseless Caipor in the rheda to whichtheir master now assisted Marcia. Then he rode on, by the wheel of thecarriage.
As for the daughter of Torquatus, not even the consciousness of herpurpose, and of the high and bitter motives that had shaped it, coulddrive the touch of shame from her cheeks. It galled her when sheconsidered how she must appear to this man--a mere youth and aCarthaginian, and it galled her the more that she should care for hisopinion. That she had inspired only his contempt, was quite evident;and she, whose glances had always gone straight as the arrows of Loveto the hearts of men, now found herself more annoyed by theindifference of an enemy than she had been by the dangers from which hehad rescued her. She was not certain whether it was with a desire togain in his sight, or only in the pursuance of her plans, that shespoke again.
"Does my lord think worse of me for what I have said?"
"I thought you a woman; now I know you for one," he replied, carelessly.
"Ah! but my lord did not ask as to my other reasons for seeking thecamp of Carthage."
"That is a matter for Calavius to look to. If you come as an enemy--somuch the worse for him."
"And if I come as a woman who would escape a hated marriage--to seek alover who has won her heart afar off?--"
"Calavius?" laughed Mago, the boy in him suddenly flashing out. "Theysay even the old men here are hunters of women. Have a care of theClaudian, though. She may bite."
Marcia flushed crimson. Mago was not an easy subject for femaleinfluence. Besides, she began to realize that the respect she couldnot help feeling for the attitude of the young soldier might hamperwhatever efforts she could put forth to ensnare and control him. Hiscloseness to Hannibal, however, would make his conquest as advantageousas it seemed difficult, and it was some such thought as this thatprompted her next words.
"Happy the leader and brother that has so single and so firm acounsellor!"
She spoke as if half unconsciously, but Mago shot a sharp glancestraight into her eyes. Then he answered, carelessly:--
"My brother is the captain-general of Carthage, and I am only a youngsoldier. Doubtless he is wise to ignore my opinions; and yet, had heharkened to Maharbal and myself at the close of the day of Cannae--hadhe let us press on with the cavalry and followed, with such speed asthe gods could grant,--I am convinced that within five days he hadsupped in the Capitol."
His tone changed, as he spoke, to one of fierce enthusiasm, and hislistener shuddered. Then, sinking his voice, he went on, as ifspeaking to himself:--
"Even now--even now--before the winter closes in, there might be achance. Later, they will recover strength and courage, and we--weshall become--Capuans."
Marcia hid her agitation behind the curtains of the rheda. She wasterrified by his vehemence and by the justice of his reasoning. Herewas the man whose whole influence would be pitted against the purposeof her journey; and her woman's intuition told her that no argument orallurement could turn his mind. It was with a feeling of relief thatthe halting of the vehicle before the porch of a stately house checkedthe unwise retort that trembled on her lips. Later, she could opposehim better than if, yielding now to an impulse to controvert his views,she had aroused suspicion.