the roman eagles

Preface

Bye. @ ‘BAILEY.

This little book is a story about a boy and girl, written for girls and boys. I hope it may be something else too, _but that is what matters most. It is a tale of adventures in England two thousand years ago, when the adventures available to boys and girls were more tremendous than at the moment. Though there is so wide a gulf of time between us and the people in the book, perhaps they may be found not vague and dreary “ Ancient Britons” but rather like our own friends. The greatest of all historians said that the value of history was as a guide to the probabilities of the present and the future. We might add now that it should be an aid to the understanding of life and the importance of men and movements. My little book is a romance, but it will be found also true history. What England was like before it came under the Roman rule is written here. Perhaps something useful may be learnt by the young citizens of Ig29 from an action picture of life when the British people were “cut off from the whole world” and making a wayward struggle against the civilising power of an Empire. Perhaps they may be tempted to recall in the town and country they know best the desperate endeavours and endurance, the passionate hopes and loyalties, which were spent to make England safe, comfortable and happy for them. Perhaps there may be some corrective to the conventional notions of progress, patriotism, civilisation, liberty. Perhaps the old ideals of loyalty and honour, of duty and mercy, may be enforced. Perhaps some who read it may be tempted to think.

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Foreword

The history-teacher, nowadays, does his best to rescue his subject from formalism. He succeeds when he finds something in the past which he can relate to the child’s own experience : when he presents to the child’s imagination the great figures of history, not as puppets stuffed with sawdust but as creatures of flesh and blood. Story is History’s ally. The story-teller who knows his business places his characters in scenes which the child himself knows. History, like Charity, begins at home. There is no county in England which has not its fund of material for stories. Kent, the land lying nearest to the continent, is richest of them all in living memorials of the past. We, in the twentieth century, can echo Drayton’s song :

“ When as the pliant Muse, straight turning her about, And comming to the Land as Medway goeth out, Saluting the deare soyle, ¢ famous Kent, quoth shee, What country hath this Ile that can compare with thee !”’

The tale of the first Roman invasions must rouse the interest of any child; but, to the child of Kent who has walked the street of Durovernum or has scrambled below the cliffs of Dubris, these things appeal with a special intimacy—“ viva adhuc et desiderio pulcriora.”

E. SALTER DAVIES.

The Roman Eagles.

Chapter I. A Queen In Kent

Firty years before Christ was born a girl walked up to the downs above Maidstone. You can find the way she went by the great stones, which have been called “ Kit’s Coty House’ longer than anyone can tell. But when Brigit stood before them and bent her head and asked a blessing, the stones were buried deep under a mound of earth. That mound was old already when the first men of her clan came to the pleasant land of Kent. The little dark people of whom they made slaves taught them that it was the tomb of a god who had been a man for a while and their king till he was angry with them and went back to his heaven in the western sea.

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Malorix the Druid, who knew all things, said that he who lay buried there and had not died was the great dread god Toutates, who gave victory in war if his favour were won. So the ring of tall stones which stood then about the mound was his temple. Before the clan took arms, some one of them, girl or boy, must be killed there that Malorix might tell, by the way the blood flowed from the body, how the fight would go. When the war was over they must weave a great basket of wicker in the shape of a giant man and put in it men and women, whom Malorix might choose, and burn them alive there to pacify Toutates. Of such a god a girl must pray a blessing.

Brigit had need of the favour of the god of war. Though her mother was a queen, there were four kings in Kent besides and each ready enough to take the rich lands by the Medway which Queen Cartismandua ruled. Beyond the Thames was a greater king, Cassivellaunus, who had already killed the king of the corn lands we call Essex, who was threatening to eat up all the kings of Kent, who, as folks whispered, dreamed a dream of making himself the only King of England. The fighting men of the clan jeered at this wild fancy, but Brigit saw her mother’s eyes troubled and Malorix the Druid talked strangely of seeing mists of blood.

Over the crest of the downs a chariot came. Two horses, no bigger than our ponies, drew it, it was like a low cart without seats, but the axles were bright with bronze and on the ponies a hundred bronze ornaments jingled and flashed. In the chariot three men rode and as Brigit turned to look, one of them flung up his hand and called her name and ran to her.

She stood waiting, a tall, slight girl with two long plaits of hair golden in the sunlight which glowed upon the blue and green tartan of her cloak. That was wound close about her, held by a clasp of gold and pearls on her right shoulder, leaving arms and legs bare.

The lad who came smiling and grasped her hands was the son of King Segonax of

Durovernum, which we call Canterbury. “Look, Brigit, I come in my war chariot,” he cried.

She did look. “A pretty thing, boy,” she said. He was as slight as she and not much older. “Do they let you play with he

He did not like being called boy. He plucked the first sprouts of a moustache. “I train my horses till I come to carry you off, girl You would make a noble slave, Brigit.”’

“ T would die first, Cunoval,”’ she looked in his eyes.

The chariot had stopped. ‘ Well said, princess,” one of the men cried, a short, sturdy fellow whose black hair curled close about his head.

She looked at him like a queen’s daughter. “ Who speaks to me?” she said proudly.

The other man, Cunoval’s uncle, brother of King Segonax, made answer for him. “ It is a Gaul who has fled from the Romans, Lady Brigit, Brannus his name.”

“ Tf he comes helpless, he shall have help.’’ Brigit said. ‘Carry him to my mother, my lord Lugotorix.”’

“So may your gods help you,” the man cried and Lugotorix drove the ponies on.

Cunoval put his arm round Brigit, but she held herself away from him. ‘“ What, I am not wanted ?”’ he said angrily. ‘‘ Why are you sour to-day, Brigit ? ”’

“Why do you come talking of war? ”’

“Are you afraid?” he laughed and kissed her.

“Ah! let me be. Afraid? Not of you. You do not frighten me when you threaten. But you make me hate you. Why do you brag of your war chariot? You will never have me by war, Prince Cunoval.”’

‘“‘ By war or by peace you are to be mine. Be sure of that.”

She started away from him. “ Did you come to claim me by a threat of war? Is that why you brought Lugotorix ? ”’

“No, no, no. You take this all wrong, you are so fierce. There is no thought of war between my people and your people, nor ever shall be, please the gods. But a great war is upon us, Brigit. The Romans are coming.”

‘ They have been coming every year this long while, boy.”

“They are coming now. My father is sure of it. This Gaul, Brannus, he says that Cesar has gathered an army across the Straits at Portus Itius. Two days ago our folk at Dubris saw a Roman war ship sail close along the coast spying out the land. The eagles will swoop on Britain soon.”

She looked at him. She fingered the brooch of a golden boar’s head that bound his dark tartan cloak.

~ Then thé boars Shall trample them down,”’ she said.

Cunoval laughed and tossed back his red hair and shouted a war cry.

They ran together to the village—it is Aylesford now—which was the capital of the realm of Queen Cartismandua.

THE ROMAN EAGLES ai

Some of the men of her clan watched over little dark slaves at work among the cornfields. The sickles were cutting the last of the wheat. A cloud of chaff rose over the threshing floor from the thudding flails and already slaves were carrying away bags of grain to store in the pits dug out of the dry chalk of the hillside.

A stockade of strong posts with boughs woven between made a wall of giant basketwork round the village. The houses stood close within, lke a cluster of beehives, all alike built of stones for some feet, then of sticks bent over and interlaced to shape a curving roof covered with clay and rushes. The swarthy slave women went to and fro with faggots and pitchers of water. Here and there the men of the clan, white bodies naked but for their short breeches, wrought at iron weapons or bronze and their tall fair women sat by the doors of the houses spinning. In the middle of the village was a great space of beaten earth. There stood the war chariots and some ponies tethered and slaves worked among them. But a part of the Space was fenced off and behind the fence slave women were milking cattle, and cocks strutted and a gander walked with his geese. In this farm yard stood the palace of Queen Cartismandua.

It was built of logs, the spaces between them daubed with clay, it rose to more than a man’s height, its roof was thatch. For Cartismandua ruled a rich kingdom. Many a farm has not so good a shed now.

A slave girl came out and scattered grain for the geese and the cocks. ‘ Epona! ” Brigit called, ‘‘ Where is my mother ? ”

“In the river pasture, lady Brigit.”

The man Brannus lounged against the doorpost.

“ Her Majesty is gone to see a calf,’’ he said demurely. “ And my lord Lugotorix to find her.”

“ The city of the ford bids you welcome, stranger.”

Brannus bowed low. “A noble city, a great palace,” he murmured, “ And what geese it breeds, princess! Your flock will be rare eating.”

She stared at him in wonder and disgust. Cunoval burst out laughing. “ Barbarian ! _We do not keep our geese to eat ; nor cocks neither.”’

“For what then, I pray you ? ”

“ Why man, for pleasure, for their beauty, for the sport they make.’

“Give pardon! Iam a barbarian indeed. You grow geese in Britain for their beauty! I did not know. I had not thought of that. But it is noble.”

“You do not know Britain ? ” said Brigit.

“Not I. I ama poor chief of the Veneti, driven from Gaul by the Roman sword.”

“The Romans have conquered your people ?”’

“Our ships are burnt and our land laid waste. That was Czesar’s last harvest, princess. This summer he comes to reap in Britain.” .

‘“‘ He has conquered all the Gauls now ? ’”

“There is none stands against him any

IO THE ROMAN EAGLES more. The eagles make their nests in Gaul.”

“And your chiefs live slaves of Rome! ” Cunoval cried.

Brannus smiled. ‘‘ Why, there are poor fools who would not, young man. And some of them, their bones lie under the earth and some go wandering into strange lands begging their bread even as I. But the rest, the wise ones, they live on and rule their tribes and their lands as of old. Only the Roman peace is over all.”

‘The Roman peace! The Roman master,’’ Cunoval said angrily.

“What is he like, this Cesar?” Brigit asked.

“ A lean bald man, of a face that always smiles yet never laughs, as though all life were metry, yet a little, little thing. Very quick he is; by the southern sea one day, and the next upon the Rhine so that he is always where there is need of him and men counted he would not come upon them. But quickest Olean battle. He ease then all that is in the thought of his enemy, and he strikes

THE ROMAN EAGLES II against the plan before it is finished. For he is such a man that he knows the minds of all other men as though they were part of his own brain.”

Cunoval laughed contempt. ‘‘ Why, you fear him like a god!”

“Not I, boy,” Brannus smiled. “ He is no god, but most a man of any man and all manner of men in one.”

‘What does he seek, this Cesar, that he marches to conquer land upon land? ”’ said Brigit.

Brannus looked at her curiously. “‘ You ask more than I know, princess.”’

“ Would he be king of all the world ?”

“T cannot tell,’ said Brannus slowly. “He would smile.”

“There are no kings in Rome,’ Cunoval. ‘“‘ They change their chiefs when they will.”

‘Tt is true, boy.. Men pass, and Rome is for ever, and the Roman power. But there has been none like Cesar.”’

“Oh he is a god—because he has cond sald quered you Gauls,” Cunoval cried. ‘‘ Let | him come to Britain, you will find he is a man. We shall not run from him to a land overseas.”

Brannus took the taunt meekly. “ The gods give you better fortune,” he said and turned. Queen Cartismandua was coming.

She was tall as her daughter with the strength of age. She too wore the tartan cloak of her tribe, but a heavy gold chain was about her neck, golden bracelets on her arms and the long plaits of her unsilvered yellow hair hung woven with gold and pearls.

“ You are welcome, Cunoval,’’ she said.

Brannus knelt before her and clasped her knees. “I am your suppliant, queen,’”’ he said.

She held out her hand and raised him and led him into the palace.

There was one long room, its floor covered with straw and no more furnishing than low tables and one chair, Upon the rough-hewn wooden walls hung swords and breastplates and spears. The single chair was of oak, stained blue and its back and arms were plated with bright bronze and bone. There. Queen Cartismandua sat. She pointed to the ground on her left hand and Brannus squatted in the straw, Lugotorix at her right and Brigit and Cunoval next. An old slave woman came bearing a wooden tray on which were little flat loaves and a horn dish of salt. Cartismandua touched it and bread and salt were set down on the low table before Brannus. “ Eat, friend,” she said.

“ The gods save this house,” said Brannus.

“It is my prayer too,’ Lugotorix pulled his moustaches and looked at Cartismandua with thoughtful, anxious eyes.

Into the hall, something hurried, came a man in white robes. His grey hair was bound by a golden band, but it flowed upon his shoulders, his grey beard grew so full that most of his swarthy face was hidden, but his eyes stood out big and bright. It was Malorix, the Druid of the clan.

“Is this an embassy ? ”’ he cried angrily.

“In a manner, yes.” Lugotorix rose to meet him. ‘ Good greeting, my lord.”

Cartismandua sat still. “ They bring us news, Malorix.”’

“ T was not told,”’ he frowned.

‘You were sought for.”’

‘“ I was in the wood with the gods.”

‘And what do the gods say, Malorix ? ”

“The gods are angry.’’ Malorix rolled his eyes. “The wind of their breath sings red.”

“ You hear no other song ever,” said Cartismandua.

“My lord is a prophet,’ said Brannus meekly.

Malorix stared at him. ‘‘ Who is the stranger that knows me? ”’ iu

“ A homeless man, Brannus, a Gaul.”

“A Gaul? You have eaten your doom already. Look upon him, queen, and be warned and feed the gods with sacrifice that their chariots drive with you into war, for the gods are thirsty after blood. The hour comes and now is.”

“ By the boar! He speaks true, my cousin.”” Lugotorix cried.

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“This is true,” said Brannus quickly. “ We fought in Gaul and we that were kings and lords are dead and slaves and homeless a7

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“ Because you gave your gods no sacrifices,’ said Malorix.

“ Why, we slew them victims enough and _ the groves smell yet of the burnings. But the legions beat us down, and now the common folk till our lands in the Roman peace. May the gods send you better fortune, queen.” : “ The gods love war,”’ Malorix cried. “It may be. For the gods do not die,” said Cartismandua. “ But we are not gods, Malorix.” :

Malorix lifted his hand high. “ Fail them not!” he said solemnly. “ They will avenge it.”

“ He is right,” Lugotorix said. “ Let us be true to the gods, and they shall give us the victory. War comes upon us, this is sure, we cannot escape it, queen. Cesar has eaten

up Gaul and he is hungry for us. I have it for certain he has gathered his legions by the straits and a great fleet of ships. Here is Brannus, who can tell you all his plans.”

“ His plans? ”’ Brannus laughed. “ Not I, my lord. Only the gods know what is in Ceesar’s mind. If even to the gods he tells it. But this is not hidden ; from all the coast of Gaul he has been drawing ships to Portus Itius ; long fighting ships and trading ships, and he is building more. He has gathered his legions there and archers and strangers from afar, a great host.”

“How many?” said Cartismandua quickly.

Brannus shrugged. ‘‘ I have not counted them. Men spoke to me of two hundred ships. He has six legions to bring upon you.

‘Two hundred ships sailing together ! And in the Straits!’’ Cartismandua cried. “They would sink each other. It is not possible, friend.”

“ What Cesar wills, is always possible, queen.”

Cunoval laughed loud. ‘‘ Two hundred ships jostling to land between the cliffs of Dubris! Merry work on the beach! I pray the gods I see our chariots drive in upon the Romans as they wallow ashore.”

“T shall see Cunoval lead the chariots on that day.”” Lugotorix put an arm about the lad. ‘‘ Your first shirt of blood shall be rich.”’

' And Cunoval shouted a war cry and Malorix droned in a deep voice. “ Blood for the King’s son, blood! The dark blood of Rome smokes to the gods.”’

“ By the boar! We shall ride them down, I fear them not.” Lugotorix said, ‘“‘ But we must be ready, queen. The storm is near. The Roman galley which they saw at Dubris rowed close in, searching the haven, and then came round the Foreland and all along the coast, drawing in here and there, spying at the land, then fled away. The fool Cesar! He might as well send us a message that he has all things now prepared and he will fall upon us soon.”

“ He must come soon if he come at all, or

Cc the gales of the autumn moon will stay him,” said Cartismandua.

“That is true, that is most true! Let us make ready then. I have no fear if we stand together each for all.’ Lugotorix spoke eagerly. “‘ You are wise, my cousin. You know what has always been our weakness in Britain. Every man is for himself. Each tribe fights for its own gain. One king fears another, is jealous of another, will not march with another though both have the same enemy.”

Cartismandua drew a_ deep breath. “Who speaks now, cousin? Lugotorix—or his brother King Segonax—or is it the great King Cassivellaunus ? ”’

“We shall need Cassivellaunus yet,” Lugotorix frowned.

‘““ When he has made an end of harrying the Trinovantes, then he will come and help the men of Kent. He has killed their king already. Surely he will be our faithful ally.”

“ Cassivellaunus honours the gods,’ said Malorix,

“It may be, priest. We are not gods,” Cartismandua smiled.

“ You are bitter against him, my cousin,” said Lugotorix quickly. ‘I do not say you _ are wrong or right. Let it be. Cassivellaunus has a great power and I think we shall need all the might of Britain. But I would not have him come to be master of us men of Kent. Mot. so! This I say.. Let us stand all together so that Kent marches on the Roman as one army. Then we shall have all our strength to meet the first shock. And after, if we need more, we may call Cassivellaunus to aid us still.”

“ Ay, trust each other,” Brannus laughed. “We trusted each other in Gaul. And each left the other at need.”

“One army,” said Cartismandua. “‘ That has one leader.’’ She smiled. ‘ Would his name be Lugotorix, cousin ? ”’

“You mock at me,” Lugotorix frowned. “My brother is king in Durovernum, not I.”

“ Long life to him, he is my friend. But Iam queen in the city of the ford. Tell me, is this from King Segonax, that I should march my people at his order and make him my master?”

“This was not said, Cartismandua,” Lugotorix muttered.

“Tt was thought. But who thought it I cannot tell.”

“ By the boar! There is no evil in my father’s heart,” Cunoval cried. ‘‘ He bade us come and bring you news of the Romans and ask of you that you should call your clan to arms and march with him to Dubris for the danger is upon us all.”

“ Well said, boy,” she smiled. “‘ Say this for me to King Segonax: He is my friend and I will march with him, but I lead my own people and judge my own danger.”

“It is your right. He asks no more,” said Cunoval.

“The gods bring you safe home,” said Brannus and watched Lugotorix who was scowling at the lad.

“The gods thirst and are hungry,” Malorix droned. “The winds ache and moan for the flesh of men.”

“ Look to the omens, Malorix,” Lugotorix rose. “ The sky is dark before us. Come, Cunoval, let us go.”’

But Cartismandua clapped her hands and

, Slaves hurried in with steaming dishes and jars of mead.

“ By the boar! If the gods are hungry, so am I,” Cunoval laughed.

- “Sit down, cousin,” said Cartismandua. “ The Romans will not come to-night. You

- shall not say that I sent you empty away.”

And Cunoval took hold of him and forced him, laughing, and Lugotorix sat down again biting his nails.

Men and women came chattering into the hall and squatted in the straw along the low tables, big fair creatures, long limbed, of sturdy frame, jovial with good living.

“You have a strong clan, queen,” said Brannus.

“The clan is not here, friend. This company is my own household.”

Brannus looked round them. They were many, their tartan cloaks were heavy and well woven, they wore trinkets of silver and. bronze and a silver hilt shone on many a dagger. “ The city of the ford is rich,” he said,

The littl dark slaves were bustling all along the table, dishes steamed between baskets of wheat cakes and jars of mead. There were huge joints of beef, quarters of mutton and pork, roast and boiled. Hands stretched out te them and the daggers cut large pieces and then each man took his and tearing it with fingers and teeth fed himself and his woman. For the queen herself and her guests at the head of the table there was no other way of eating, neither plate nor fork, nor any knife, but what each carried. But they had silver cups for their mead, and down the table there were mugs of earthenware and wood, enough for each to drink in turn abundantly, And drink they did and the hall grew loud with talk of war and the great deeds every man had done and the greater deeds he would do upon the Romans. 5

“ Here are high hearts,” said Brannus.

Cunoval clapped him on the shoulder. “ There is no fear in Britain, my little Gaul,’ he laughed.

“Our peoples’ hearts are high,” said Lugotorix gloomily, ‘‘ The gods give us a bold leader.”

“ Hearts are high before the battle,” said _Cartismandua. A man rose up from the table by Malorix and waved a little harp, strings drawn across the horns of an ox, and began to sing of war. First his song was of the old victories of the clan.of the ford, the exploits of the past. Then he sang of the glory which they would win in the war to come, making a catalogue of the names of the heroes about the table and each man’s own excellence. They drank to one another and shouted a refrain which promised ruin to the Romans

and mocked at Cesar.

Lugotorix started up. “ Hail to the men of the ford. I drink to you. March to us at Durovernum and you shall drink deep of the blood, the purple blood of Rome.”

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“HEARTS ARE HIGH BEFORE THE BATTLE ”’—saiq Cartismandua.

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Then they shouted for the Lord Lugotorix and for King Segonax and Prince Cunoval.

“ Fare you well,” Lugotorix cried. “ We go to meet the eagles. Follow after, I will _ lead you to glory.”

“Hear him,’ Malorix droned, “ hear

him, men of the ford. The gods are thirsty.” . Cartismandua rose. “ You are in haste, my lord,” she said coldly. “I will not keep you. Cunoval, fare you well.” She laid her hand on his arm. “ Say this also to your father: I keep faith.”

“We also, queen,” Cunoval looked in her eyes.

“ Watch then,” she said in his ear.

It was growing dark, but a bright moon was already in the sky. The ponies were _ yoked to the chariot by many eager hands and Lugotorix had a jolly word for each man that helped. But Cunoval stood apart in the shadow and Brigit’s hand held his. “ Come, Cunoval,”’ Lugotorix cried. “‘ Where is the boy? I see! By Mapon, they make a pretty pair, cousin. But come now, lad, you have to win glory for her.”’

The chariot jingled away on the track to the downs. For some while Cartismandua stood with Brigit watching it, then she turned quickly and went in. Her household was still at drink and song. She held up her hand and the noise sank. ‘‘ You waste your courage,’ she said. ‘‘ Enough of this.’ She looked round the hall. ‘‘ Where is my guest ? Where is the Gaul?”

He was not there. Some told her he went out with Lugotorix, some said he had driven away in the chariot.

‘’ He was not in the chariot,” Brigit cried. “leanissure.

“So am I sure,’ Cartismandua bit her lip. ‘Go some of you, search for him all about, he cannot be far, he must be found.”

And they searched all about the city of the ford till the moon set. But they did not find him.

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Chapter II. The Envoy Of Rome

In the morning at Durovernum, King Segonax talked with his son. His town stood guarded by the windings and the marshes of the Stour where Canterbury stands to-day. His palace was built like Cartismandua’s, but it was larger and more arms hung upon the walls; for Segonax ruled a greater kingdom. He sat in his red, royal chair, the pearls shone in the bronze of his breastplate. He felt himself a king by nature. He had a_ shrewd, comfortable look, he was grown bulky and grey but his eyes gleamed. “ She will march with us, but she will be her own captain! ”’ he sneered. ‘‘She need not have said it. She never owned any man her master.’ He laughed. ‘‘See the daughter learns better, Cunoval.”’

The lad flushed, ‘‘ Cartismandua will be loyal, sir—She would not have held off, but Lugotorix was too hard with her.”

“ Ay, Lugotorix drives hard,’ Segonax nodded and plucked at his breastplate. “Well! It is a good fault in this hour!” he cried. “ I wish they were all as bold.”

“What do yoUudtearssign ts

“Fear? By the gods, I fear nothing, boy. But I count my friends. And as it goes, we may stand alone. There are some who have sent to Cesar to make their peace already ; the clans beyond the Thames.”