"Ah! then you have doubtless grown more respectful of commanders since you disobeyed your dictator in Campania;" but now the anger in Sergius' face told the speaker that the limit of endurance had been reached, and his tone became less offensive. "That is in the old days, though, and you did run twelve miles with a broken shoulder: you see I know all—only I am sure that you are not realizing how deeply your general has studied the Punic wars, or perhaps you do not know how necessary is depth to the battle that would stand against the great war-beasts. It is possible, barely possible, that our most scientific commander has forgotten that the enemy has no elephants here; but what is that to a great genius? He has learned that Carthage wars with elephants, that these are best met by deepening the files, and that we are about to fight Carthage; therefore he deepens the files, though the last elephant in Italy died two years ago in the northern marshes. If you are beaten, you will at least have the satisfaction of being beaten while fighting most learnedly."
As Sergius noted the bitterness and agony in the voice that spoke, he found his resentment giving place to pity for the hard, grim man who, powerless to avert, yet saw clearly every cord of the snare into which he was being driven.
"Do we guard the camp, my father?" he asked, gently, when Paullus had finished.
The latter started from the gloomy stare with which he was regarding the fast-forming lines.
"I have been offered the command of the camp," he said, almost fiercely. "I have refused it. Escape to the north would be too easy—and I do not wish to escape. What do you think the centuries would do if I came home beaten? I who escaped so narrowly before?" He leered cunningly at his listeners; then his face grew set, and his voice cold and even. "I have solicited command of the Roman cavalry. We shall fight on the right wing, beside the river, and I do not think many of us will ride from the battle. Varro commands the cavalry of the allies on the left, and the pro-consuls"—he hesitated a moment—"the pro-consuls market their beeves in the centre. You will cross with me now. My volunteers ride about my body. It is time. It is time."
The breeze from the southward freshened every minute, and the red flag lashed out angrily toward the sea.
XIV.
CANNAE.
The cavalry trumpets rang out their clear notes, and Sergius and his companions threw themselves upon their kneeling chargers. Then they rode out and down the bank, behind the consul who, with head hanging upon his breast, had turned his rein the moment he had given the word. What if the dust did swirl up in blinding sheets from the south? Before them lay the Roman battle, horse and foot—such an army as the city had never sent forth. What if its masses were somewhat cramped? its front narrow? its general an amateur? They were to fight at last, and how should a mongrel horde of barbarians, but half their number, stand firm against the impetus of such a shock. A moment's hush; then measured voices rose in calm cadence—the voices of the tribunes administering the military oath to each cohort, "Faithful to the senate, obedient to your imperator." What Roman could doubt that the voice of victory spoke in the thunderous response!