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Updated: May 26, 2025
Everything was to be put aside, and I was going to work hard at my writing and reading, as you wished, and try to think no more about the army and the wars." Cracis was silent for a few moments, during which he gazed searchingly at his son. "Is this the very truth?" he said. "Every word of it, master!" cried Serge, excitedly.
"Yes, father," cried the boy, making a desperate effort to speak out frankly. "I want to tell you everything, but it is so hard to do." "Hard to speak the truth, boy?" "No, father, I did not mean that. "Well, sir?" "I've done wrong, father, and I am ashamed of it." "Hah! Come, that is more like my boy," cried Cracis, very sternly, but with the frown upon his brow less deeply marked.
Marcus, son of Cracis, was a good deal hurt, but his injuries were of a temporary and superficial kind, and, as he stood listening, so little importance did he attach to his injuries that a broad grin began to gather upon his frank young face, and he uttered a low, chuckling laugh; for, as he stood wiping his brow and listening, he could hear the sounds of blows, yells and cries, the worrying growl of the dog, and the harsh encouraging voice of the man pretty close at hand, all of which taught him that the enemy had been checked in their retreat and were being horribly routed by the reinforcements a cohort of dog and man.
"Oh!" exclaimed Marcus, and he turned sharply upon their visitor, looking the question he longed to put, while Caius Julius met his eyes and bowed in silence. "You are too young," said Cracis, slowly; "and now I want you to help me for the short time I am here making my preparations." "Yes, father," cried the boy, in a choking voice; "but I should like for you to "
"You out so soon?" he cried, in astonishment. "Yes, boy; it has been no time for sleep. I have had too much to think about." "But, father " began the boy. Cracis held up his hand. "Wait," he said. "Our visitor, Marcus, seems to have been as sleepless as I; here he comes."
"Yes, that's right, captain," said Serge. "Well, man, whom am I to send?" "Me!" cried Marcus, excitedly. "I'll find my father and take your message." "You shall, boy," said the captain, catching Marcus by the arm. "It is what I planned, for I am going to send to Cracis, who will be directing the forces and the arrangements of the campaign, while Caius Julius leads the men.
Speak out, sire: how came you there?" "I could not bear it, father: something seemed to tell me that you would be in danger, and I followed you to Rome, and then on here." "Then you disobeyed my commands, boy," said Cracis, sternly; and Marcus sank upon his other knee, clasped his hands, and held them out before him.
"Dangerously close?" asked Cracis. "Horribly close, father, and there, I am glad you found it all out. I have no more to say, father, only that you must punish me, not Serge, and I will bear everything without saying a word." Cracis was silent for a few minutes, and his voice sounded different when he spoke again. "Where have these war-like implements been kept?" he said.
"This!" cried the boy, overcome with rage, and, raising his hand, he made a dash as if about to strike, just as a step was heard, and, calmly and thoughtfully, Cracis walked out into the piazza.
"Then we ought to go on and give our people warning that they are going to be attacked." "No need, boy," whispered Serge; "they won't catch our men lying about with their eyes shut. Careful watch has been set by now, and scouts will be well advanced. Cracis and Julius will not be caught asleep in the enemy's country.
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