The Captives

Chapter XIII. Illustrations

GUNTBA GOING TO MEET THE DRUID COUNCIL . Frontispiece THE ROMAN SOLDIER . ‘ ww. & = -s iyi GUNTRA BEFORE THE SACRED COUNCIL. - . + - 13

THE VICTIM RESCUED . : : , , - : . 329

A STRANGE SIGHT . ; : . ; . ; ; . 61

JUGURTHA’S VISIT TO HIS MOTHER ‘ ‘ ow . 115

THE CHILD RESTORED. . . . . . . «189

THE RETURN HOME. - ; ; : ? , . Ldl f (hi

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THE ROMAN SOLDIER.

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THE CAPTIVES.

GHAPTER_ I,

THE MEETING IN THE WOODS.

T was a sweet peaceful scene that the mid-day sun looked down upon, as it glanced between the branches of Y the fine old oak trees, and pencilled “~ lines of golden light on the soft green grass and waving ferns that grew nowhere so luxuriantly as in as . the forests. of Britain. Even the

=e = proud Roman could not but feel his heart touched with the sweetness of nature here, so different from the luxuries of art to which he was accustomed in his home on the banks of the Tiber; and it seemed that even a soldier could appreciate the sweetness and quietness of the forest glade; for presently B the ferns were crushed into the grass by the foot of a middle-aged man dressed in the imperial uniform.

Throwing himself on the grass, the soldier heaved a sigh as he looked up towards the deep blue of the summer sky above, and uttered slowly, “‘The dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of cruelty ;” the old Jew was right in this; and then he shuddered at the recollection of a hideous scene he had witnessed in this fair land of Britain he had come to conquer, but found so hard to subdue. No wonder that the people, though simple in their manner of life, were fierce and cruel, when their priests and lawgivers, the Druids, practised such wholesale murder in the performance of their religious rites; and once more the man shuddered, soldier though he was, at the mental picture that rose before him again—the hideous wicker image filled with men, women, and children, being set on fire by a white-robed priest, who at the same time carefully guarded the sacred spray of mistletoe he had just cut with a silver knife from a neighbouring oak, while, amid the shrieks

and groans of the victims, the flames and smoke went curling up towards heaven, until the awful silence of death settled down upon the scene, broken only by the chanting of the priests as they performed their mysterious rites.

While still thinking of this, a slight noise attracted _ the soldier’s attention, and looking round he saw an aged, venerable-looking man, in the garb of a Druid, standing at the entrance of a small cave hollowed out of a sand-bank close by; but the next minute the sounds of a hunt were. heard, and the soldier had only time to spring to his feet, when a huge boar, its bristles all erect with fury, came tearing down one of the forest alleys, and the next moment would have been upon him had he not hastily stepped aside and given him room to pass.

The dogs were not far behind, and the huge beast being well-nigh spent with his long run, was caught a few paces beyond; and before he could escape his tormenting little captors, a bold, handsome-looking youth came up and finished him with his broad hunting-knife.

The Roman soldier looked at the young Briton, for he knew he was a Briton, and not one of the trading Gauls who had settled on the coast, by the long fair hair that fell almost to his waist, as well as the stalwart limbs and proud defiant carriage, and he wondered whether he would ever be taken and offered as a peace offering to the cruel deity he worshipped, or whether those sturdy limbs would wield spear and battle-axe against the all-conquering eagles of Rome.

The young Briton needed no assistance in despatching the boar when once he had brought him to bay, and did not seem to know that any one was near, until turning to bind up the wounds of one of his dogs, he noticed the Druid standing at the entrance of the cave. He at once left the dog, and stepping respectfully forward, bowed before the priest.

“Thou art the son of Guntra, art thou not?” said the Druid as he drew near.

With a low obeisance the Briton answered, “I am, most reverend teacher.”

“ And thou art anxious, I hear, to rid thy country of these foreign marmots, the Romans. Is it so?”

“Yes,” answered the Briton, his blue eyes flashing angrily, and his hand instinctively grasping his powerful hunting-knife more firmly as he spoke.

The Druid saw the action. “And thou art ready to risk liberty and life for the sake of thy, country, this fair but enslaved Britain, and to preserve the religion of thy forefathers from the violation of strangers?” said the Druid. 7

“T will not only risk my life, but give it,” said the Briton, firmly; “I hate the Roman eagle, and will ever wage war against it and all it brings from Rome.” .

“That is well said, my son,” remarked the Druid, complacently; “it may be that the gods of these our free forests will demand your life, but you will but. pass to another stage of existence, perchance to be a bird warbling ainid our giant oaks, or a noble warhorse, that inspired by thy spirit shall perform deeds of prowess that shall make the Roman eagles quail in terror at his approach.”

The Roman soldier from the shelter of the fern covert heard every word, and decided to report it to the centurion when he reached the neighbouring camp of London, for he was journeying from the distant camp of York, where he had been stationed since his return from Syria. He did not care to be seen just now by either the Briton or the Druid, and yet he felt scarcely equal to resuming his journey at once, and another thing, he did not wish to miss his companions, ~who were likewise resting in the forest, and whom he had left, that he might read from a small roll of parchment he carried beneath his breastplate, .and which had been given to him before he left Czesarea.

So he lay still among the tall sheltering ferns, and drew out the parchment from its hiding-place, and slowly read the words that told of eternal life being gained for all by the voluntary death of the man Christ Jesus. Reading was an art he had only lately acquired, and so he could not do more than spell out a few words, but those few told of life and immortality beyond the grave. Very different teaching from what he had learned about his family Penates in his old Roman home, and very different from the reward held forth by the Druid to the young Briton just now.

Marcinius was thinking of this, and slowly rolling up his parchment again, when the ferns by which he was surrounded were hastily pushed aside, and the young Briton stood before him. /

“How darest thou to venture within the sacred precincts of this forest ?” he demanded.

The soldier sprang to his feet, and instinctively grasped the javelin at his side. But the next moment he had dropped it, for the young Briton was unarmed, he had left his hunting-knife in ne boar which he killed.

“Dost thou ask that of a Roman?” said Marcinius, folding his arms across defiantly.

“Yes, I, a free-born Briton, ask thee, Roman dog, how thou darest to provoke the wrath of our forest spirits by venturing under the shadow of these sacred oaks ?”

“By the right of conquest,’ Marcinius was about to reply; but he checked these words, and said more gently, “I came here to rest a while and read certain parch-. ments for my soul’s refreshment ;” and as he spoke he held forth the roll in proof of his assertion.

The Briton stepped back a pace or two in. dumb surprise, as if fearing the roll of parchment should touch him, as in truth he was, much more so than of the flashing sharp-pointed javelin; for the fact of any but a Druid being able to read, was in itself so startling that he was half afraid one of the dreaded forest spirits had taken the form of a Roman soldier, to wreak vengeance upon him for some unknown insult.

But after gazing a minute or two in silent wonder at Marcinius, the young Briton began to feel reassured that it was no phantom before him, and he ventured to say, “Do thy gods allow thee to pry into their mysteries by means of that?” and he pointed to the roll half fearfully as he spoke.

“This is a message from my God,” said Marcinius, reverently,

A look of contempt stole over the young Briton’s face. “ Your gods who dwell in temples such as that, standing in the centre of yonder camp at London, must indeed be poor and pitiful to send a message to such as you,” he said, in a tone of disdain.

A haughty smile curled the lips of the Roman for a minute, but he answered quietly, “I worship not your adopted goddess, Diana, whose temple is in our camp, ur Apollo, whose temple is just beyond, but my God is the Lord who dwells in heaven, and not in temples made with hands.”

“ You worship our forest spirits then, for they disdain anything but unhewn granite and the free air of heaven ; they cannot be confined in any temple,” said the young Briton, quickly.

But the Koman' shook his head: “I worship the God of the whole earth; but He is not cruel like your forest spirits, He is the God of love and kindness.”

“Love and kindness!” repeated the Briton, and he burst into a mocking laugh. ‘Commend me to your God when I need love and kindness,” he said, and turned on his heel and walked back to his dogs and his employment of cutting off the head of the boar. The same mocking smile crossed his lips again and again as he went on with his work; and he again repeated the words “love and kindness” as he looked towards the fern covert where he had left the Roman soldier. He was not there now, he could see, or he might have stepped across to ask something else about this despised God, for what could be more despicable than a God of love? thought the fierce young Briton as he strode homewards, swinging the boar’s head by one ear, and closely followed by his dogs. .

A God of love! why he, Jugurtha, the son of Guntra, was half ashamed of the love he bore his mother and little sister, and hoped to conquer it by and by, though he had come out to hunt the boar this morning purposely for his mother, that she might have her favourite dish of boar’s head for supper.

When he got beyond the forest he came out upon a wide plain, dotted with short-horned red cattle and flocks of sheep. In the centre of this plain stood several mysterious-looking piles of stones, and close by a charred blackened space, looking like a huge blot on the fair landscape.

Fierce though he was, the young Briton turned his eyes from that place of sacrifice. He almost despised himself for doing it, and looked forward to the time when he, like the Druids themselves, and all the older men of his tribe, should be able to look complacently on such sacrifices as were offered there; but now it brought a sickening horror, and he hurried past it on | to the little village of huts beyond.

It was the poorest attempt at bailaine one could well imagine, this village of the proud Britons. They despised their lordly conquerors, the Romans, for their love of luxury and refinement, and certainly there was no approach here to either the one or the other. A group of huts built of the branches of trees, interlaced and covered with sods of turf set down without any attempt at order, was all they could boast of in the way of architecture, and the internal arrangements were equally simple. A heap of wolfskins, that could be used as mats to sit upon by day, formed with a heap of dried leaves their beds at night. In their dress there was very little difference between that of the men and women; a rough sheepskin garment covered their bodies, while arms and legs were painted blue. There was, however, one notable exception in this particular. A tall, handsome, imperious-looking woman stood in the doorway of the largest of the huts, dressed in a long white flowing robe, and a little girl playing at her side likewise wore a, loose-fitting garment of white wool,

The woman was looking earnestly and anxiously towards the plain where the cattle grazed, but as she

caught sight of Jugurtha striding along with his dogs, the look of anxiety left her face, and she heaved a sich of relief. ‘“ Once more I shall see him,” she murmured; “once more will his noble head rest beneath this

THE MEETING tN THE Woods. g roof before-———” and she turned aside her head, for the child at her side was looking up in her face wonderingly.

“ Jugurtha is coming,” she said, stooping to kiss the little girl’s upturned face. “He has killed the boar, I can see,” she added, as she shaded her eyes, and once more looked towards the plain.

“Is he bringing home the head ?” asked the child, with an exclamation of delight.

“Yes, my little Norma, I can see it in his hand,” said

her mother, scarcely less delighted than the child. She valued it, not for the savoury dish the boar’s head would make, but because it was flavoured with a son’s love. , A few minutes afterwards, Jugurtha had reached the hut, and thrown the still bleeding head at his mother’s feet, yet so carefully that not a spot stained her long robe. Little but imperiousness was seen in the mother’s face, for she was the head of this tribe who dwelt in the village, and owned the sheep and cattle in the plain and some of the men were gathering round her now, bringing complaints of more cattle being stolen by the Romans.

Jugurtha heard the complaints, and then flourishing his hunting-knife above his head, he exclaimed, “I will go forth and rid the land of these oppressors; our forest spirits will help me, for they too have been insulted, their sacred groves have been invaded by the enemy, and now they shall be swept from our shores.”

A loud shout was raised at the close of the young man’s speech, for every Briton was united in this hatred of the Romans; but as it died away a look of anxiety, rather than of triumph, stole over the faces of the older men. They had fought against the Romans, and knew that undisciplined bravery, though ever so heroic, was no match for the trained veterans who fought beneath the all-conquering eagles of Rome; and they gazed at Jugurtha with a look of pity as they thought of the bitter disappointment that was in store for him.

But Jugurtha did not notice these looks. “ My mother,” he said, “will you not command me to take spear and target, and go forth against the oppressors of our people ?”

The mother’s bosom heaved for a moment with exultant pride as she gazed at her noble son, but she said slowly, “ We must not act hastily or unadvisedly in this matter, we must wait until the council of Druids has met, and abide by their decision ;” and as she spoke a spasm of agony crossed her face.

Jugurtha looked surprised. He had thought that the ceremeny of investiture had merely been delayed on account of his youth—that his mother had chosen him long since to be one of her warriors, for he had often heard her say he was to save his tribe from the Roman power; and now he was anxious to do this, it seemed the matter was uncertain.

He was inclined to feel impatient, until he heard that a council of all the principal Druids in the neighbourhood was to be held the followin’ day, and that his mother had been summoned to attend it. “I will go with you, my mother, and plead with the wise men to be allowed to join our band of warriors at once,” said Jugurtha, quickly.

But the lady shook her head decisively, while the same look of pain stole into her face again.

“Nay, nay, my son, that cannot be,” she said ; “I will bear your wishes to the council, and plead for you, too.”

How earnest that pleading would be, Jugurtha did not know, or its object either. The deep anxiety that seemed to have settled upon his mother for the rest of the day he thought was caused by the loss of the cattle. He little knew how every movement was watched by those eager hungry eyes, as though they might be the last she would ever see,

[PHAPTER ll,

THE SACRED COUNCIL.

HE council of Druids had been sitting some hours in deliberation before Guntra, the mother of Jugurtha, reached the spot.

The white-robed venerable-looking lawgivers were seated in a semicircle under the spreading branches of an old oak, and within sight of the grey moss-grown stones that witnessed their mysterious rites of worship.

A <A dead silerice prevailed as Guntra

drew near. A dozen of the oldest men of her tribe had

accompanied her to within a short distance of the spot, and now waited until the conference should be over.

The lady made a low obeisance when within a few steps

of the circle, for though the chief of a tribe, every out-

ward respect was demanded by the all-powerful Druids, and Guntra was especially anxious to conciliate them to-day.

“Guntra, daughter of Britain, what hast thou to say ?” asked one, as the lady raised her head.

GUNTRA BEFORE THE SACRED COUNCIL

THE SACRED COUNCII.. 15

“It is of my son Jugurtha I would speak,” said the lady, in a trembling voice.

“Thou hast not come with weak womanly tears to disgrace thy name as a daughter of Britain,” said one.

“Or to mar thy sacrifice as it is about to be offered,” said another.

Guntra clasped her hands and raised her eyes appealingly. “I am. a woman and a mother,” she said, struggling to subdue her rising sobs, “ I am a widow, too, and Jugurtha is my only son, the hope of my tribe and the light of my eyes. When he was vowed to the gods I had a husband, and the hope of other sons, but they have not been given me, and he is my only one.”

“Thou hast a daughter,” hastily interrupted a Druid.

“Norma is but a child, but Jugurtha is my stay ; and, moreover, is anxious to gird on spear and target, and fight against the Romans,’ said Guntra, quickly. “ It was that our Britain might be rid of the oppressor that I vowed him to our gods, but it may be he will rid it better by wielding the spear and battle-axe than yielding himself to the sacrifice.”

“ And thou wilt give thy young daughter instead,” demanded the oldest Druid, who occupied a raised seat in the centre, and was chief of the assembly.

The mother gave a shuddering start of horror at the mention of her sweet little girl in connection with that horrid wicker image, and that blackened spot that even now was within sight. Again she raised her hands appealingly. “Oh, spare me one child!” she gasped, in agony. “ My son may lose his life by a Roman javelin, and will you take my daughter likewise ?” ~ Hard as the hearts of these Druids were, they could not but feel somewhat touched by the mother’s earnest appeal.

“There is reason in what she says,” remarked one: “ Jugurtha is strong, brave, and fearless, he might inspire our warriors with fresh courage, and a successful attack might be made on the camp and colony of London. If this could be carried out, it would be better than sacrificing him to the gods, and another might be chosen in his place.”

But several shook their heads at this proposal. “The gods accept not the vile and refuse: if Jugurtha is to fight the Romans, another equally dear and precious ' must be given instead, and that other is his sister.”

“But if the gods take him while fighting, Guntra will lose both her children,” said another, who had some sense of justice if not of pity. They would have been ashamed to own the latter, and yet a feeling closely akin to it stole into more than one heart as they looked at the tall white-draped figure standing before them with clenched hands and pain-drawn face, waiting to hear the doom of her children; for against that tribunal there was no appeal. |

But it seemed that the council could not agree as to whether the little Norma should be taken instead of her brother, or whether his taking arms and waging war ceaselessly against the Romans should be counted as equivalent to sacrificing him to propitiate the favour of the gods. .

Weary, heart-sick, ready to faint with anguish of soul, Guntra stood patiently listening to the debate going on; but at length the council broke up without anything being decided, and the anxious mother was told that she must come again the following day to hear the decision, and receive the commands of the council. |

As a high-born British matron, Guntra disdained to show any signs of fatigue as she slowly turned towards her attendant warriors, who, in their sheepskins and war paint, stood like statues, awaiting the commands of their liege lady.

She silently motioned to them to follow her as she drew near, and without a word they fell into their places, wondering what could have taken place at the council to touch her so deeply; for in spite of all her efforts to suppress her emotion, the agony she was suffering, was visible in her face.

Not a word was spoken until they reached the village, and then one of them more bold or more anxious to know what distressed her than the rest, ventured to say, “ Will the brave youth Jugurtha join our warriors shortly ¢”

“T know not, I cannot tell,” said the lady, quickly, and turning aside her head as she spoke; for silently and alone must this great burden of suspense be borne; and she was fearful of betraying any sign of it to these her devoted clansmen, who she felt were watching her. | It was more difficult to parry the questions of her son when she reached her home; for Jugurtha, in his anxiety to hear the result of her application to the council, had loitered near the village all day, mending his fishing-tackle, and amusing his beloved sister. Not that he had much fear of the result. He felt sure the lawgivers of the land would be only too glad to employ

C his strong arms against the common foe to refuse his request. He knew nothing of the heavy load of suspense and sorrow his mother had borne alone for years ; that long since he had been destined for a very different fate, and the time for its fulfilment was now drawing near.

So it was with an eager, hopeful step he went out to meet his mother when he saw her approaching; and in his impatience he quite failed to see the pain so visible to others in her face.

“The matter is not decided, my son,” said the lady, in a tone of forced calmness.

“Not decided!” repeated Jugurtha. “Do they hesitate to employ another warrior against our oppressors? Then I will myself go forth and avenge the | wrongs of our people,” said the young man, passionately.

“Hush, hush, my son! speak not so hastily,” said the lady, in a tone of command; “you forget that I am your chief as well as your mother,” she added, | “and that J must command you to gird on spear and target before you have the right to go out against our foes.”

Jugurtha looked down abashed. “I have been overhasty,” he said, in an humble tone; “but you will forgive me, my mother, and bid me fight for you against the Romans.”

Guntra looked at her handsome, stalwart son bending before her, and longed to clasp him to her heart, but she feared to betray her secret by such unusual emotion, and so she contented herself with laying her hand fondly on his fair hair, and saying, “I know, my son, you will be willing to fulfil any command I may lay upon you, but you must likewise be obedient to the sacred council of the Druids.”

Jugurtha did not reply. If the commands of the Druids agreed with his own wishes, he was willing enough to follow them ; but so anxious was he to strike a blow against the Romans at their far-famed camp and colony of London, that he would not promise to forego this, even for the Druidical council; for he had already formed a plan of surprise in his own mind, which he felt sure must strike terror into the heart of every Roman in the country if he could only carry it out. He had hoped this was a council of war that had assembled to-day, for no tribe, however great their injuries might be, could go to war without the consent of the council; but what had taken place he could not discover from his mother, and so leaving her with little Norma, he went out to try and learn something of its purpose from those who had accompanied her.

But they could tell him nothing save that their chief had seemed deeply moved while speaking to the Druids, and they had heard nothing of war being declared against the invaders.

“Then why was the council summoned?” asked Jugurtha, quickly.

The old warriors shook their heads. If they guessed they would not tell nim; but one less cautious than the rest said, “You were the cause of the council being summoned, my young brave.”

‘Jugurtha stared, then smiled and shook his head. “No, no,” he said, “it was something of more importance, I doubt not. My mother is to attend the council

_ again to-morrow, I hear; will you find out what is the subject of debate, and tell me ?” he added.

The following day Guntra again set out with her attendant warriors to the place of meeting, but fearing ‘lest a word should be overheard by them, and reported in the village, she bid them halt some distance beyond where they had stood the previous day, and went on alone to hear the decision of the Druids concerning her son. She was not kept long in ‘suspense to-day. They had made up their minds before she came, and warned her not to waste words in question- . ing their wisdom, when she should hear what had been decided. Jugurtha might become a warrior, and should at once be invested with his arms; but if he escaped the Roman javelins, and returned home alive, Norma was to be given up as a sacrifice to the gods.

_ The lady turned pale and shivered as she heard the

decree, and was about to appeal to their pity to spare the sweet young life, but she was instantly silenced by the presiding Druid. Pity! what did he, a Briton and.a Druid, know of pity? Guntra herself, woman though she was, ought to be ashamed of such a feeling.

Perhaps she thought it was unbecoming in a British matron to feel so deeply, for she walked away bowed, and looking as though all life had been crushed out of her, nor did she turn to summon her attendants to follow her when she reached them. But they knew their duty too well to linger behind when she had passed on, and with eager, anxious, wondering looks at each other they silently followed her back to the village.

Jugurtha met her eyes, as before, to know the result of her visit, and she told him part,—that he was at once to bear arms in defence of his country, which quite satisfied the young man, and he did not ask any further questions.

Little Norma was eagerly awaiting the arrivai of her mother, to show her the curious face her brother had carved for her in a piece of wood, and she was not a little startled at being caught in her mother’s arms, and strained passionately to her breast. She looked in her mother’s face in surprise, and said, “‘ What is it? is there a wolf coming?” for she remembered once when a wolf made his way into the village; every mother caught her child in her arms as soon as the alarm was raised, and she was about ‘to raise her voice, and cry, “ A wolf! a.wolf!” when her mother stopped her, and carried her into the house.