Marcus: the Young Centurion | Page 5

cried Marcus.
"Yes. Aren't afraid, are you?"
"Not a bit," cried the boy, flushing angrily. "Come and see."
The man chuckled as he went off with his young companion to the
lower side of the villa, where stood a low-roofed stone building with
heavy chestnut plank doors, before which crouched a big, shaggy
wolf-hound which pricked up its ears and uttered a deep growl as it
lifted up its bushy tail, and rapped the earth in recognition of the
new-comers, but did not take its eyes from the door beyond which were
the prisoners it had been set to guard.
"Now, boy," said the man, "it was your doing that I taught you a bit of
soldiering, and a nice row there'll be about it some day when he finds
us out; so now I'm just going to show you, if you're not too tired, how
one good Roman can fight six enemies and beat 'em, same as we've
often done in the good old days when I wore my armour and brass
helmet with its plume, not a straw hat and things like these. Ah, boy,"
said the man, drawing himself up and shouldering his crook as if it
were a spear, "those were grand old times! I was a better man then than
now."
"No, you weren't, Serge, not a bit," cried the boy. "You must have
always been what you are now--a dear good old chap who'd do
anything for me."
The fierce-looking old fellow smiled pleasantly, literally beaming upon
the boy, whom he patted on the shoulder.
"Ah," he said, "but there was no you then. But never mind all that.
Hark!" he continued, softly, as a whispering was heard beyond the door,
"They know we are coming, and they're thinking about making a rush
when I open the door. But they'd better not try; you'd pin some of them,
wouldn't you, Lupe?"
The dog uttered a low, deep, thundering growl.

"That's right, boy. Now, Marcus, my lad, if you feel too tired, say so,
and we'll keep them till the master comes."
"Oh, don't do that," cried the boy. "He'd only talk to them and scold
them, and then let them go, after forgiving them for stealing the
grapes."
"That's right, boy; so he would."
"And they'd all laugh," cried Marcus, "and come again."
"But they won't after the welting you are going to give them, boy--if
you are not too tired."
"Of course I'm tired," cried the boy, impatiently, "after a fight like that;
but then they are tired too, so it's all fair--only six to one?"
"Don't I tell you that I am going to show you how to fight them as a
Roman should, and how we used to conquer in the good old times
before we took to reading and writing and came into the country to
keep pigs."
"And grow corn and grapes, and feed our goats in this beautiful farm
villa; and if father liked to take to study instead of being a great Roman
general and senator, it's not for you, Serge, to find fault with what it
pleases him to do."
"Right, boy! Spoken like your father's son. It was only one of my
growls. I don't mind. He's one of the finest men that ever stepped, and
what he says is right. But you and me, we don't want him to let these
young ragamuffins off without loosening their skins a bit to do them
good, do we?"
"No!" cried the boy, joyously, as he showed his white teeth. "I say,
Serge, I feel rested now, and I want to give it to them for knocking me
about as they did. The rascally young plebs! The cowards! Six to one! I
believe they'd have half killed me if they had got me down."

"That they would, Marcus, my boy," cried the old soldier, gazing at
him proudly. "But come on, I'll show you the way, and Lupe and I will
look on and see that they fight fair, while we guard you flank and rear.
Old Lupe shall be ready to scatter their mothers, if they hear that we
have the young rascals fast. No women will interfere if old Lupe begins
to show his teeth."
The man and boy exchanged glances, and, as the former struck his staff
down heavily upon the earth in advancing towards the great, rough
door of the building, the latter's fists clenched involuntarily, and the
dog pricked up his ears and uttered a low sigh.
The next minute a big, rough, hairy hand was raised to the cross-bar
which secured the door, and, at the first touch, there was a low, rustling
sound within the building.
Serge and Marcus exchanged glances again, while the dog crouched as
if about to spring.
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