"Then the Winged Hats began to roll us up from each end of the Wall. I sent runners Southward to see what the news might be in Britain; but the wolves were very bold that winter among the deserted stations where the troops had once been, and none came back. We had trouble too with the forage for the ponies along the Wall. I kept ten, and so did Pertinax. We lived and slept in the saddle riding east or west, and we ate our worn-out ponies. The people of the town also made us some trouble till I gathered them all in one quarter behind Hunno. We broke down the Wall on either side of it to make as it were a citadel. Our men fought better in close order.
"By the end of the second month we were deep in the War as a man is deep in a snow-drift or in a dream. I think we fought in our sleep. At least I know I have gone on the Wall and come off again, remembering nothing between, though my throat was harsh with giving orders, and my sword, I could see, had been used.
"The Winged Hats fought like wolves-all in a pack. Where they had suffered most, there they charged in most hotly. This was hard for the defender, but it held them from sweeping on into Britain.
"In those days Pertinax and I wrote on the plaster of the bricked archway into Valentia the names of the towers, and the days on which they fell one by one. We wished for some record.
"And the fighting? The fight was always hottest to left and right of the great Statue of Roma Dea, near to Rutilia.n.u.s" house. By the light of the Sun, that old fat man, whom we had not considered at all, grew young again among the trumpets! I remember he said his sword was an oracle! "Let us consult the Oracle," he would say, and put the handle against his ear, and shake his head wisely. "And _this_ day is allowed Rutilia.n.u.s to live," he would say, and, tucking up his cloak, he would puff and pant and fight well. Oh, there were jests in plenty on the Wall to take the place of food!
"We endured for two months and seventeen days-always being pressed from three sides into a smaller s.p.a.ce. Several times Allo sent in word that help was at hand. We did not believe it, but it cheered our men.
"The end came not with shoutings of joy, but, like the rest, as in a dream. The Winged Hats suddenly left us in peace for one night, and the next day; which is too long for spent men. We slept at first lightly, expecting to be roused, and then like logs, each where he lay. May you never need such sleep! When I waked our towers were full of strange, armed men, who watched us snoring. I roused Pertinax, and we leaped up together.
""What?" said a young man in clean armour. "Do you fight against Theodosius? Look!"
"North we looked over the red snow. No Winged Hats were there. South we looked over the white snow, and behold there were the Eagles of two strong Legions encamped. East and west we saw flame and fighting, but by Hunno all was still.
""Trouble no more," said the young man. "Rome"s arm is long. Where are the Captains of the Wall?"
"We said we were those men.
""But you are old and grey-haired," he cried. "Maximus said that they were boys."
""Yes that was true some years ago," said Pertinax. "What is our fate to be, you fine and well-fed child?"
""I am called Ambrosius, a secretary of the Emperor," he answered. "Show me a certain letter which Maximus wrote from a tent at Aquileia, and perhaps I will believe."
"I took it from my breast, and when he had read it he saluted us, saying: "Your fate is in your own hands. If you choose to serve Theodosius, he will give you a Legion. If it suits you to go to your homes, we will give you a Triumph."
""I would like better a bath, wine, food, razors, soaps, oils, and scents," said Pertinax, laughing.
""Oh, I see you are a boy," said Ambrosius. "And you?" turning to me.
""We bear no ill-will against Theodosius, but in War--" I began.
""In War it is as it is in Love," said Pertinax. "Whether she be good or bad, one gives one"s best once, to one only. That given, there remains no second worth giving or taking."
""That is true," said Ambrosius. "I was with Maximus before he died. He warned Theodosius that you would never serve him, and frankly I say I am sorry for my Emperor."
""He has Rome to console him," said Pertinax. "I ask you of your kindness to let us go to our homes and get this smell out of our nostrils."
"None the less they gave us a Triumph!"
"It was well earned," said Puck, throwing some leaves into the still water of the marlpit. The black, oily circles spread dizzily as the children watched them.
"I want to know, oh, ever so many things," said Dan, "What happened to old Allo? Did the Winged Hats ever come back? And what did Amal do?"
"And what happened to the fat old General with the five cooks?" said Una.
"And what did your Mother say when you came home?"...
"She"d say you"re settin" too long over this old pit, so late as "tis already," said old Hobden"s voice behind them. "Hst!" he whispered.
He stood still, for not twenty paces away a magnificent dog-fox sat on his haunches and looked at the children as though he were an old friend of theirs.
"Oh, Mus" Reynolds, Mus" Reynolds!" said Hobden, under his breath. "If I knowed all was inside your head, I"d know something wuth knowin". Mus" Dan an" Miss Una, come along o" me while I lock up my liddle hen-house."
A PICT SONG
_Rome never looks where she treads,_ _Always her heavy hooves fall,_ _On our stomachs, our hearts or our heads;_ _And Rome never heeds when we bawl._ _Her sentries pa.s.s on-that is all,_ _And we gather behind them in hordes,_ _And plot to reconquer the Wall,_ _With only our tongues for our swords._
_We are the Little Folk-we!_ _Too little to love or to hate._ _Leave us alone and you"ll see_ _How we can drag down the Great!_ _We are the worm in the wood!_ _We are the rot at the root!_ _We are the germ in the blood!_ _We are the thorn in the foot!_
_Mistletoe killing an oak-_ _Rats gnawing cables in two-_ _Moths making holes in a cloak-_ _How they must love what they do!_ _Yes,-and we Little Folk too,_ _We are as busy as they-_ _Working our works out of view-_ _Watch, and you"ll see it some day!_
_No indeed! We are not strong,_ _But we know Peoples that are._ _Yes, and we"ll guide them along,_ _To smash and destroy you in War!_ _We shall be slaves just the same?_ _Yes, we have always been slaves;_ _But you-you will die of the shame,_ _And then we shall dance on your graves!_
_We are the Little Folk, we! etc._
HAL O" THE DRAFT
_Prophets have honour all over the Earth,_ _Except in the village where they were born;_ _Where such as knew them boys from birth,_ _Nature-ally hold "em in scorn._
_When Prophets are naughty and young and vain,_ _They make a won"erful grievance of it;_ _(You can see by their writings how they __complain),_ _But O, "tis won"erful good for the Prophet!_
_There"s nothing Nineveh Town can give,_ _(Nor being swallowed by whales between),_ _Makes up for the place where a man"s folk live,_ _That don"t care nothing what he has been._ _He might ha" been that, or he might ha" been this,_ _But they love and they hate him for what he is!_
HAL O" THE DRAFT
A rainy afternoon drove Dan and Una over to play pirates in the Little Mill. If you don"t mind rats on the rafters and oats in your shoes, the mill-attic, with its trap-doors and inscriptions on beams about floods and sweethearts, is a splendid place. It is lighted by a foot-square window, called Duck Window, that looks across to Little Lindens Farm, and the spot where Jack Cade was killed.
When they had climbed the attic ladder (they called it the "mainmast tree"
out of the ballad of Sir Andrew Barton, and Dan "swarved it with might and main," as the ballad says) they saw a man sitting on Duck window-sill. He was dressed in a plum-coloured doublet and tight plum-coloured hose, and he drew busily in a red-edged book.