CHAPTER XXVII.
MARTIANUS.
The little community that remained in the neighbourhood of the villa afterthe departure of the Count and his household had plenty to occupy theirthoughts and hands. The Count had behaved with a liberality and adiscretion that were both equally characteristic of him. All the stock ofwhat may be called the home farm, all the agricultural implements, thecattle, sheep, and pigs, and as much of the stores of corn that he couldspare, he had made over to the priest and two other principal persons inthe settlement for the benefit of the community at large. This was anexcellent start, and removed all immediate anxiety for the future. Thestores of provisions had been increased by opportune purchases before theresolution to go had been taken, and enough was left to last, if managedwith due economy, over the coming winter.
Carna found plenty of employment of the kind in which she found hergreatest pleasure. There was indeed a terrible gap in her life; not onlyhad she lost those whom she had loved all her life as father and sister,but her intellectual interests had dropped away from her. Many of thebooks at the villa had indeed been left with her, but then there was noone to whom to talk about them. The old priest never opened a volumeexcept it was a service book; his wife could not even read. But the timenever hung heavily upon her hands, for there was plenty of work to doamong the sick and sorry. As the autumn went on an epidemic, which amodern doctor would probably have described as measles, broke out amongthe children, and Carna spent her days and nights in ministering to thelittle sufferers. The one relief that she allowed herself--and there was nolittle sadness mixed with the pleasure which it gave her--was to spend anhour, when she could snatch one from her many cares, in the deserted roomsof the villa. The indulgence was rare, not only because her leisure wasinfrequent, but because she was conscious of feeling somewhat relaxedafter it for the effort of her daily life; but when it came it wasprecious. Not a room, not a picture on the walls, not a pattern in thetesselated pavements, that did not call up a hundred associations, andmake the past in which she had enjoyed so much happiness live again in herfancy. The dwelling was under the charge of an old couple, who gladly keptit clean in exchange for the shelter of two or three of the rooms, andCarna was free to wander about it as she would, while she felt a certainsecurity in the knowledge that the place was not wholly deserted.
The autumn and winter passed without any incident of importance. News fromthe Continent had never been very regular during that season of the year,and now it came only at the rarest intervals. All that the settlementheard went to show that there was but little chance of the return of thelegions. Constantine, after some changes of fortune, had made himselfmaster of Gaul and Spain, and had established a kingdom which looked somuch as if it might last, that he had been regularly acknowledged byHonorius as a partner in the Empire. But it would be long before he couldspare money or men for adding Britain to his dominions. From Britainitself the news was mostly of the most dismal kind. The Picts, indeed,were not as troublesome as usual. Happily for their neighbours on thesouth, their attention had been occupied by the tribes on the north, whohad been driven by a season of unusual scarcity to forage for themselves.The robbers, in fact, had been obliged to defend themselves against beingrobbed, and Britain had had in consequence a quiet time. But the peopleused it to quarrel among themselves. There were scores of chiefs who hadeach his pedigree, by which he traced his lineage to some king of thepre-Roman days, and which gave him, he fancied, a title to rule over hisneighbours. And besides these personal jealousies, there was a greatdivision which split the nation into two hostile factions. There wereBritons, who held to Roman ways, and among them, to the religion whichRome had given, and there were Britons who looked back to the oldindependent days, and to the faith which their fore-fathers had held longbefore the name of Christ had been heard out of or in the land of Hisbirth. The former party was by far the more numerous, but its adherentswere those who had suffered most by Britain's four centuries of servitude;in the latter the virtues of freedom had been kept alive by a carefullycherished tradition. They were few in number; but they were vigorous andenthusiastic, even fanatical. It was clear that this strife within wouldcause at least as much trouble as would come from enemies without.
It was about seven months after the Count's departure when Carna paid oneof her customary visits to the villa. She had been unusually busy forthree or four weeks previously, and had not found time to come. As shepassed through the garden, on her way to the house, she noticed that theplace looked somewhat neater and less neglected than usual. This, however,did not surprise her, as she had gently remonstrated with the old keeperfor doing so little, and, in her usual kindly way, had followed up herreproof with a little present. Accordingly she passed on without thinkingmore of the matter to the little sitting-room which she had once sharedwith AElia, and prepared to spend an hour of quiet enjoyment with a book.Her books, indeed, she kept for these visits to the villa. Not only washer time elsewhere closely occupied, but her hostess, kindly andaffectionate as she generally was, could not conceal her dislike of thevolumes which Carna loved so dearly.
In the midst of her reading she was startled by the unaccustomed sound offootsteps. She lifted her eyes from the page and saw a sight so unexpectedthat for a few moments she could not collect her thoughts or believe hereyes.
The British chief Martianus stood before her.
She had seen him last at the Great Temple, and the recollections of thosedays and nights of horror, her capture, her hurried journey, and theinterrupted sacrifice, crowded upon her, and almost overpowered her. Norcould she help giving one thought to the question--if this man's presencerecalls such horrors in the past, what does it not mean for the future?Still, the courage which had supported her so bravely before did not failher now. She rose from her seat and calmly faced the intruder, while shewaited for him to speak.
Martianus began in a tone of the deepest respect. "Lady, I am truly gladthat you condescend to honour this poor house of mine with your presence."
"This house of yours!" repeated the girl, with astonishment.
"Lady, doubtless you do not know that this villa was built by its formerowner on land which belonged to my family, and which was taken from themby force. I do not speak of the Count--he was too honourable a man to doanything of the kind--I speak of the former owner, or so-called owner, fromwhom he purchased it. In the Count's time I said nothing of my claim. Iwould not have troubled him for the world. But now that he has gone, andpractically given up the place, I am justified, I think, in asserting myownership."
"I know nothing of these matters," said Carna, coldly, "but I will takecare not to intrude again."
"Intrusion!" said the chief. "Did I not say that there is no one who wouldbe more welcome here? We were friends once, in the good Count's time; whyshould we not be so again? and more," he added in a whisper.
"Friends with you! Surely that is impossible. You cannot wish it yourself,after what has happened. You seem to forget."
"Lady, Carna--I used to call you Carna when you were a child--I do try toforget that dreadful night. I was overborne by those double-dyed villains,Carausius and Ambiorix. Believe me, it was against my will that I took anypart in that dreadful business. And you will remember I never lifted ahand against you, no, nor against that base champion of yours. You will dome that justice. Carausius, thank Heaven! has got his deserts, and I havebroken with Ambiorix."
Carna and Martianus.]
Carna remained silent.
Martianus resolved to try another appeal, and, presuming that the girl'srecollections of the scene might be confused by fear, did not scruple todepart considerably from the truth.
"I implore you to believe that I could not have allowed that horrible deedto be accomplished. If that base fellow who had the privilege of savingyou had not appeared, I was ready myself to interfere. I know that I oughtto have done so before; it has been a ceaseless regret to me that I didnot. B
ut I wanted to keep on terms with those two, and I held back tillthe last moment. Forgive me my irresolution, Carna, but do not believethat I could have been one of the murderers."
The girl's recollections of the scene, which were quite free from theconfusion which Martianus had imagined, did not agree with this account ofhis behaviour, but she did not think it worth while to argue the point.
"Let it be as you will," she said, with a cold dignity, "but you canimagine that these recollections are not pleasing to me. And now I willbid you farewell."
She stepped forward as she spoke with the intention of at once leaving theroom, but Martianus barred the way. Dropping on one knee, he caught herhand. For a moment Carna, who had still something of the child in her,felt a strong impulse to use the hand that was still free in dealing him avigorous blow. But her womanly dignity prevailed: she only wrenched herhand away with something like violence. There was something in the foppishappearance and insincere manner of Martianus that set her more decidedlyagainst him than even the recollection of the plot in which he had beenconcerned.
"I will listen to what you have to say, but do not touch me."
"You give me little encouragement," Martianus began, "but still I willspeak. I say nothing about myself, only about my country--your country andmine. I know how you love it. We have all heard what sacrifices you havemade for it, how you gave up home and friends sooner than leave it. Make,if I must put it so, one sacrifice more. You are the heiress of the greatCaradoc, the noblest king that Britain ever had, whom even the Romans werecompelled to admire. I can reckon among my ancestors Cunobelin. Apart ourclaims might be disputed; together they will make a title which no one candispute to the crown of Britain. Yes, Carna, it is nothing less thanthat--the crown of Britain that is in question."
"A crown does not tempt me," said Carna, looking the speaker straight inthe face.
"Ah! it is not that," replied the suitor; "you mistake me. I never dreamedof tempting you. I know only too well that it would be impossible. Butthink what a British crown really means. It means a united Britain, strongagainst the Picts, strong against the Saxons; and without it--think whatthat would mean. Every tribe--for we should split up into tribes again--foritself; every chief working for his own hand; the Picts plundering theinland, the Saxons harrying the coast. Oh, Carna! as you love yourcountry--I don't speak of myself, though that, too, might come in time, ifa man's devotion is of any avail--but if you love your country, do not sayno."
It was a powerful appeal, and touched Carna's heart at the point where itwas most accessible. And she was so candid and transparent a soul thatwhat she felt in her heart she soon showed in her face.
Martianus saw his advantage, but, happily for Carna, did not press it ashe might have done. The fact was that he was so conscious of his owninsincerity and falsehood that his courage failed him, and he dared notpress his suit any further. Had he gone on, he might have entangled thegirl in a promise which her feeling for truth would not have permitted herto break, which would have made her even shut her eyes to the truth. As itwas, he thought it his best policy to rest content with the progress thathe had made. He raised Carna's hand respectfully to his lips, and, with alow salutation, opened the door.