Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated) (540 page)

‘Pertinax looked long and silently at him, till that fair man blushed like a girl. Then read Pertinax: —

‘“
I have joyfully done much evil in my life to those who have wished me evil, but if ever I did any evil to you two I repent, and I ask your forgiveness. The three mules which I strove to drive have torn me in pieces as your Father prophesied. The naked swords wait at the tent door to give me the death I gave to Gratian. Therefore I, your General and your emperor, send you free and honourable dismissal from my service, which you entered, not for money or office, but, as it makes me warm to believe, because you loved me!
”

‘“By the Light of the Sun,” Amal broke in. “This was in some sort a Man! We may have been mistaken in his servants!”

‘The Wall must be won at a price.’

‘And Pertinax read on: “
You gave me the time for which I asked. If I have failed to use it, do not lament. We have gambled very splendidly against the Gods, but they hold weighted dice, and I must pay the forfeit. Remember, I have been; but Rome is; and Rome will be. Tell Pertinax his Mother is in safety at Nicaea, and her monies are in charge of the Prefect at Antipolis. Make my remembrances to your Father and to your Mother, whose friendship was great gain to me. Give also to my little Picts and to the Winged Hats such messages as their thick heads can understand. I would have sent you three Legions this very day if all had gone aright. Do not forget me. We have worked together. Farewell! Farewell! Farewell!
”

‘Now, that was my Emperor’s last letter.’ (The children heard the parchment crackle as Parnesius returned it to its place.)

‘“I was mistaken,” said Amal. “The servants of such a man will sell nothing except over the sword. I am glad of it.” He held out his hand to me.

‘“But Maximus has given you your dismissal,” said an elder. “You are certainly free to serve — or to rule — whom you please. Join — do not follow — join us!”

‘“We thank you,” said Pertinax. “But Maximus tells us to give you such messages as — pardon me, but I use his words — your thick heads can understand.” He pointed through the door to the foot of a catapult wound up.

‘“We understand,” said an elder. “The Wall must be won at a price?”

‘“It grieves me,” said Pertinax, laughing, “but so it must be won,” and he gave them of our best Southern wine.

‘They drank, and wiped their yellow beards in silence till they rose to go.

‘Said Amal, stretching himself (for they were barbarians): “We be a goodly company; I wonder what the ravens and the dogfish will make of some of us before this snow melts.”

‘“Think rather what Theodosius may send,” I answered; and though they laughed, I saw that my chance shot troubled them.

‘Only old Allo lingered behind a little.

‘“You see,” he said, winking and blinking, “I am no more than their dog. When I have shown their men the secret short ways across our bogs, they will kick me like one.”

‘“Then I should not be in haste to show them those ways,” said Pertinax, “till I was sure that Rome could not save the Wall.”

‘“You think so? Woe is me!” said the old man. “I only wanted peace for my people,” and he went out stumbling through the snow behind the tall Winged Hats.

‘In this fashion then, slowly, a day at a time, which is very bad for doubting troops, the War came upon us. At first the Winged Hats swept in from the sea as they had done before, and there we met them as before — with the catapults; and they sickened of it. Yet for a long time they would not trust their duck-legs on land, and I think, when it came to revealing the secrets of the tribe, the little Picts were afraid or ashamed to

‘Where they had suffered most, there they charged in most hotly.’

show them all the roads across the heather. I had this from a Pict prisoner. They were as much our spies as our enemies, for the Winged Hats oppressed them, and took their winter stores. Ah, foolish Little People!

‘Then the Winged Hats began to roll us up from each end of the Wall. I sent runners Southward to see what the news might be in Britain, but the wolves were very bold that winter, among the deserted stations where the troops had once been, and none came back. We had trouble, too, with the forage for the ponies along the Wall. I kept ten, and so did Pertinax. We lived and slept in the saddle, riding east or west, and we ate our worn-out ponies. The people of the town also made us some trouble till I gathered them all in one quarter behind Hunno. We broke down the Wall on either side of it to make as it were a citadel. Our men fought better in close order.

‘By the end of the second month we were deep in the War as a man is deep in a snowdrift, or in a dream. I think we fought in our sleep. At least I know I have gone on the Wall and come off again, remembering nothing between, though my throat was harsh with giving orders, and my sword, I could see, had been used.

‘The Winged Hats fought like wolves — all in a pack. Where they had suffered most, there they charged in most hotly. This was hard for the defenders, but it held them from sweeping on into Britain.

‘In those days Pertinax and I wrote on the plaster of the bricked archway into Valentia the  names of the towers, and the days on which they fell one by one. We wished for some record.

‘And the fighting? The fight was always hottest to left and right of the great statue of Roma Dea, near to Rutilianus’s house. By the Light of the Sun, that old fat man, whom we had not considered at all, grew young again among the trumpets! I remember he said his sword was an oracle! “Let us consult the Oracle,” he would say, and put the handle against his ear, and shake his head wisely. “And
this
day is allowed Rutilianus to live,” he would say, and, tucking up his cloak, he would puff and pant and fight well. Oh, there were jests in plenty on the Wall to take the place of food!

‘We endured for two months and seventeen days — always being pressed from three sides into a smaller space. Several times Allo sent in word that help was at hand. We did not believe it, but it cheered our men. ‘The end came not with shoutings of joy, but, like the rest, as in a dream. The Winged Hats suddenly left us in peace for one night and the next day; which is too long for spent men. We slept at first lightly, expecting to be roused, and then like logs, each where he lay. May you never need such sleep! When I waked our towers were full of strange, armed men, who watched us snoring. I roused Pertinax, and we leaped up together.

‘“What?” said a young man in clean armour. “Do you fight against Theodosius? Look!”

‘North we looked over the red snow. No  Winged Hats were there. South we looked over the white snow, and behold there were the Eagles of two strong Legions encamped. East and west we saw flame and fighting, but by Hunno all was still.

‘“Trouble no more,” said the young man. “Rome’s arm is long. Where are the Captains of the Wall?”

‘We said we were those men.

‘“But you are old and grey-haired,” he cried. “Maximus said that they were boys.”

‘“Yes, that was true some years ago,” said Pertinax. “What is our fate to be, you fine and well-fed child?”

‘“I am called Ambrosius, a secretary of the Emperor,” he answered. “Show me a certain letter which Maximus wrote from a tent at Aquileia, and perhaps I will believe.”

‘I took it from my breast, and when he had read it he saluted us, saying: “Your fate is in your own hands. If you choose to serve Theodosius, he will give you a Legion. If it suits you to go to your homes, we will give you a Triumph.”

‘“I would like better a bath, wine, food, razors, soaps, oils, and scents,” said Pertinax, laughing.

‘“Oh, I see you are a boy,” said Ambrosius. “And you?” turning to me.

‘“We bear no ill-will against Theodosius, but in War —  — ” I began.

‘“In War it is as it is in Love,” said Pertinax. “Whether she be good or bad, one gives one’s best once, to one only. That given, there remains no second worth giving or taking.”

‘“That is true,” said Ambrosius. “I was with Maximus before he died. He warned Theodosius that you would never serve him, and frankly I say I am sorry for my Emperor.”

‘“He has Rome to console him,” said Pertinax. “I ask you of your kindness to let us go to our homes and get this smell out of our nostrils.”

‘None the less they gave us a Triumph!’

‘It was well earned,’ said Puck, throwing some leaves into the still water of the marlpit. The black, oily circles spread dizzily as the children watched them.

‘I want to know, oh, ever so many things,’ said Dan. ‘What happened to old Allo? Did the Winged Hats ever come back? And what did Amal do?’

‘And what happened to the fat old General with the five cooks?’ said Una. ‘And what did your Mother say when you came home? ...’

‘She’d say you’re settin’ too long over this old pit, so late as ‘tis already,’ said old Hobden’s voice behind them. ‘Hst!’ he whispered.

He stood still, for not twenty paces away a magnificent dog-fox sat on his haunches and looked at the children as though he were an old friend of theirs.

‘Oh, Mus’ Reynolds, Mus’ Reynolds!’ said Hobden, under his breath. ‘If I knowed all was inside your head, I’d know something wuth knowin’. Mus’ Dan an’ Miss Una, come along o’ me while I lock up my liddle hen-house.’

A PICT SONG

Rome never looks where she treads,Always her heavy hooves fall
On our stomachs, our hearts or our heads;
And Rome never heeds when we bawl.
Her sentries pass on — that is all,
And we gather behind them in hordes,
And plot to reconquer the Wall,
With only our tongues for our swords.

We are the Little Folk — we!Too little to love or to hate.
Leave us alone and you’ll see
How we can drag down the Great!
We are the worm in the wood!
We are the rot at the root!
We are the germ in the blood!
We are the thorn in the foot!

Mistletoe killing an oak — Rats gnawing cables in two — Moths making holes in a cloak — How they must love what they do!Yes — and we Little Folk too,
We are as busy as they — Working our works out of view — Watch, and you’ll see it some day!

No indeed! We are not strong,But we know Peoples that are.
Yes, and we’ll guide them along,
To smash and destroy you in War!
We shall be slaves just the same?
Yes, we have always been slaves,
But you — you will die of the shame,
And then we shall dance on your graves!

We are the Little Folk, we, etc.

Hal o’ the Draft

Prophets have honour all over the Earth,Except in the village where they were born,
Where such as knew them boys from birth
Nature-ally hold ‘em in scorn.

When Prophets are naughty and young and vain,They make a won’erful grievance of it;
(You can see by their writings how they complain),
But Oh, ‘tis won’erful good for the Prophet!