The Last of the Legions and Other Tales of Long Ago

d the messenger who had brought it, a swarthy little Italian, whose black eyes were glazed with want of sleep, and his olive features darker still from dust and sweat. The viceroy

of his life had come

at last in a hard dry

f the hall. A yellow-haired British

Genera

ing, your e

in, and leave

rded man in a white civilian toga, hemmed with the Patrician purple. His rough, bold features, burned and seamed and lined with

ncy, that you have ha

er with Britain. It is a question

ve us! Are the

with the Emper

a rumour, but it had s

it is as clear as words can make it: 'Bring every man of the Legions by forced marc

the c

to swarm once more. There are fresh crowds of Barbarians from Dacia and Scythia. Every swo

shrugged h

. For all that we have done, it is none the less the truth that it i

legion falls back from the Wall of Hadrian it can take the northern colonists with it. The Jovians can bring in the people from the west, and the Batavians can escort the eastern

Britons! From ocean to ocean there is not a tribe which will not be at the throat of its neighbour when the last Roman

them, and Britain would be one land. No, it is the bear from the north and the wolves from oversea, the painted savage from beyond the walls and the Saxon pirate from over the water, who

ing there has come news that the Barbarians are through the ol

shrugged hi

itter smile broke upon his aquiline clean-shaven face.

I know

y of the richer Britons, have been educated at Rome, and who wo

t is the

hemselves sh

said he, as he saluted and turned upon his heel. "Farewell, yo

knew that under the mild and beneficent rule of Rome it was only when they passed from words to deeds that their backs or their necks would be in danger. They stood now, earnest and a little abashed, before the throne of the viceroy. Celticus was a swarthy, black-b

sked the

country after our own ancient fashion." He paused, as if awaiting some outburst as an answer to his own temerity; but the Governor merely nodded his head as a sign that he should proceed. "We had laws of our own before ever C?sar set foot in Britain, which

aws just?" ask

f C?sar. Our own laws were made for our own uses and ou

rum; you wear a Roman toga; your hair is filleted

arts that Rome or Greece could give, but we

e dared to stand before my face and say as much is a proof for ever of the gentleness of our rule. But I would reason with you for a moment upon this your request. You know

the Druid and the oak-grove, your excellency. Bu

said he. "It may be that this blessed doctrine of peace will be little help to you when you are face to

the bravest legionaries are of Bri

of war, the strength to act-it is in these things that y

en we have gone through them,

hey would land to-morrow. I see the day when Britain may, indeed, be one; but that will be because you and your fellows are either dead or are driven into the mountains of the we

and our own right arms we should hope for a better end," sa

wns, its bridges and its roads, all the work of Rome. Surely it will pass even as a dream, and these three hundred years of settled order will l

Their first impulse was towards a wild exultation, bu

of days to the motherland. When do the legions go, your exce

o hear that within a month there will be no Roman soldier in the island,

wed, and Caradoc, a grave and thoug

From my villa near the fort of Anderida I saw eighty of their galleys only last week, and I know well that they w

rs. "It is your affair now," sai

the Britons. Suddenly the future had started up cl

icus, "that the northern Barbarians are through th

fellows," sa

nd there was terror in the eyes

ork, and the Northmen in the Thames within the month. We can build ourselves up under your

. Now you have got what you asked. What more would you have? Within the month yo

n well considered. We will send to Rome. We will ride post-haste ourselves. We will fall

m his chair and motioned tha

lease," said he. "I and

ssed Celticus was dead, for he was flayed alive by the pirates and his skin nailed upon the door of a church near Caistor. Regnus, too, was dead, for he was tied to a tree and shot with arrows when the painted men came to the sacking of Isca. Caradoc only was alive, but he was a slave to Elda the red Caledonian and his wife was mistress to Mo