Puck of Pook's Hill Part 18

'I did,' said Dan. 'I got away in lots of time, but-but I didn't know it was so late. Where've you been?'

'In Volaterrae-waiting for you.'

'Sorry,' said Dan. 'It was all that beastly Latin.'

A BRITISH-ROMAN SONG

(A. D. 406)

_My father's father saw it not,_ _And I, belike, shall never come,_ _To look on that so-holy spot-_ _The very Rome-_

_Crowned by all Time, all Art, all Might,_ _The equal work of G.o.ds and Man-_ _City beneath whose oldest height_ _The Race began,-_

_Soon to send forth again a brood_ _Unshakeable, we pray, that clings,_ _To Rome's thrice-hammered hardihood-_ _In arduous things._

_Strong heart with triple armour bound,_ _Beat strongly, for thy life-blood runs,_ _Age after Age, the Empire round-_ _In us thy Sons,_

_Who, distant from the Seven Hills,_ _Loving and serving much, require_ _Thee, Thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills,_ _The Imperial Fire!_

ON THE GREAT WALL

ON THE GREAT WALL

When I left Rome for Lalage's sake By the Legions' Road to Rimini, She vowed her heart was mine to take With me and my shield to Rimini- (Till the Eagles flew from Rimini!) And I've tramped Britain and I've tramped Gaul And the Pontic sh.o.r.e where the snow-flakes fall As white as the neck of Lalage- As cold as the heart of Lalage!

And I've lost Britain and I've lost Gaul

(the voice seemed very cheerful about it),

And I've lost Rome, and worst of all, I've lost Lalage!

They were standing by the gate to Far Wood when they heard this song.

Without a word they hurried to their private gap and wriggled through the hedge almost atop of a jay that was feeding from Puck's hand.

'Gently!' said Puck. 'What are you looking for?'

'Parnesius, of course,' Dan answered. 'We've only just remembered yesterday. It isn't fair.'

Puck chuckled as he rose. 'I'm sorry, but children who spend the afternoon with me and a Roman Centurion need a little settling dose of Magic before they go to tea with their governess. Ohe, Parnesius!' he called.

'Here, Faun!' came the answer from 'Volaterrae.' They could see the shimmer of bronze armour in the beech crotch, and the friendly flash of the great shield uplifted.

'I have driven out the Britons.' Parnesius laughed like a boy. 'I occupy their high forts. But Rome is merciful! You may come up.' And up they three all scrambled.

'What was the song you were singing just now?' said Una, as soon as she had settled herself.

'That? Oh, _Rimini_. It's one of the tunes that are always being born somewhere in the Empire. They run like a pestilence for six months or a year, till another one pleases the Legions, and then they march to _that_.'

'Tell them about the marching, Parnesius. Few people nowadays walk from end to end of this country,' said Puck.

'The greater their loss. I know nothing better than the Long March when your feet are hardened. You begin after the mists have risen, and you end, perhaps, an hour after sundown.'

'And what do you have to eat?' Dan asked, promptly.

'Fat bacon, beans, and bread, and whatever wine happens to be in the rest-houses. But soldiers are born grumblers. Their very first day out, my men complained of our water-ground British corn. They said it wasn't so filling as the rough stuff that is ground in the Roman ox-mills. However, they had to fetch and eat it.'

'Fetch it? Where from?' said Una.

'From that newly-invented water-mill below the Forge.'

'That's Forge Mill-_our_ Mill!' Una looked at Puck.

'Yes; yours,' Puck put in. 'How old did you think it was?'

'I don't know. Didn't Sir Richard Dalyngridge talk about it?'

'He did, and it was old in his day,' Puck answered. 'Hundreds of years old.'

'It was new in mine,' said Parnesius. 'My men looked at the flour in their helmets as though it had been a nest of adders. They did it to try my patience. But I-addressed them, and we became friends. To tell the truth, they taught me the Roman Step. You see, I'd only served with quick-marching Auxiliaries. A Legion's pace is altogether different. It is a long, slow stride, that never varies from sunrise to sunset. "Rome's Race-Rome's Pace," as the proverb says. Twenty-four miles in eight hours, neither more nor less. Head and spear up, shield on your back, cuira.s.s-collar open one hand's breadth-and that's how you take the Eagles through Britain.'

'And did you meet any adventures?' said Dan.

'There are no adventures South the Wall,' said Parnesius. 'The worst thing that happened me was having to appear before a magistrate up North, where a wandering philosopher had jeered at the Eagles. I was able to show that the old man had deliberately blocked our road, and the magistrate told him, out of his own Book, I believe, that, whatever his G.o.d might be, he should pay proper respect to Caesar.'

'What did you do?' said Dan.

'Went on. Why should _I_ care for such things, my business being to reach my station? It took me twenty days.

'Of course, the farther North you go the emptier are the roads. At last you fetch clear of the forests and climb bare hills, where wolves howl in the ruins of our cities that have been. No more pretty girls; no more jolly magistrates who knew your Father when he was young, and invite you to stay with them; no news at the temples and way-stations except bad news of wild beasts. There's where you meet hunters, and trappers for the Circuses, prodding along chained bears and muzzled wolves. Your pony shies at them, and your men laugh.

'The houses change from gardened villas to shut forts with watch-towers of grey stone, and great stone-walled sheepfolds, guarded by armed Britons of the North Sh.o.r.e. In the naked hills beyond the naked houses, where the shadows of the clouds play like cavalry charging, you see puffs of black smoke from the mines. The hard road goes on and on-and the wind sings through your helmet-plume-past altars to Legions and Generals forgotten, and broken statues of G.o.ds and Heroes, and thousands of graves where the mountain foxes and hares peep at you. Red-hot in summer, freezing in winter, is that big, purple heather country of broken stone.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'There's where you meet hunters, and trappers for the Circuses, prodding along chained bears and muzzled wolves.']

'Just when you think you are at the world's end, you see a smoke from East to West as far as the eye can turn, and then, under it, also as far as the eye can stretch, houses and temples, shops and theatres, barracks, and granaries, trickling along like dice behind-always behind-one long, low, rising and falling, and hiding and showing line of towers. And that is the Wall!'

'Ah!' said the children, taking breath.