Marcus: the Young Centurion

by George Manville Fenn

The boy stole back and stood for a few moments in his loose, woollen, open-fronted garment, not very much unlike a tweed Norfolk jacket without pockets or buttons, very short in the sleeves. His eyes were wandering about the room as if in search of something which was not there, and, not finding it, he stretched out his hands before him, looked at them with a satisfied smile, and doubled his fists. Then, stealing further back into the shadow, he passed through a door, made his way along a passage, across another room, and out into the open atrium, a simply-made, shady court with a central basin where a little jet of water played up, sparkling, and fell back in glistening drops.

The next minute the boy was out in a fairly extensive garden, stooping low as he glided among the trees towards the little trellised vineyard on the sunny slope, where, from the continued sounds, it was evident that a party of marauders were making a foray amongst the unripened grapes, which, trained to fir-poles secured to posts, formed an attractive pergola overhead.

Marcus approached as near as he could unseen, and then paused to reconnoitre, to find that the sounds proceeded from a party of six boys of somewhere about his own age, two of whom had destructively climbed up a couple of the poles to be seated astride amongst the spreading vines, where, after throwing down bunches to their four companions below, they were setting their glistening white teeth on edge with the sour grapes they had torn from the clinging strands.

They were talking in whispers, but that was the only sign of fear they displayed, for the villa stood alone, the nearest domicile, another villa farm, being a couple of hundred yards away lower down the slope, and, apparently perfectly convinced that the occupants of the place were right away, they feasted in perfect security and content.

A grim smile came upon the handsome young face of Marcus as he watched the destruction going on. His eyes sparkled, his sun-browned cheek grew deeper in its tint, and he looked round again for the something that was not to hand, that something being a good stout stick. Then, clenching his fists more tightly—nature’s own weapons—and without a sound, he suddenly made a dash for two of the boys who were standing with their backs towards him, and with a couple of springs came down upon them like fate, gripping them by the backs of their necks and sending them face downwards amongst the vine leaves and damaged bunches that had been torn from the vine, kneeling upon one and pressing the head of the other down into the soil, regardless of the shrieks and yells which made the two seated above drop down and follow the other two, who had taken to flight, while the noise that was made startled the sleeping swine outside to add their shrill squeals and heavy grunts to the turmoil of the cultivated ground within.

It was hard work to keep down the two young marauders, who joined to their struggling piteous appeals for mercy; but Right strengthened the hands of Marcus, and he was gaining a complete triumph, and calculating where he should secure his two prisoners until either his father or Serge came back, the latter probably from his tramp through the forest to see after the young acorn-eating pigs.

But the prisoners’ shouts reached and added wings to their flying friends’ heels for the moment, then checked them, and a feeling of comradeship prevailed. The young rascals stopped short after going some distance; then one looked back, and his example was followed by another and another, till all four were hesitating as to what they should do.

They were on the balance when a more pitiful yell than ever from their trapped companions sent the scale down in the latter’s favour. They looked at one another questioningly and then began to steal back to see what was happening, all the while fully on the alert to dash again through the trees which shaded their approach to the garden.

In this way, with their fellows’ bellowing ringing in their ears, they at last stole up to the palisading through which they had at first broken, and then, dropping on hands and knees, they crept cautiously up to the edge of the little vineyard and, sheltering themselves well, peered in.

The first and boldest got a good glimpse at once, and beckoned and made way for the others to see what was happening.