Now once more the soldiers march through Anderida.

Gleva (_holds up her hand_): Listen!

[_A pause. The sound of marching is heard quite clearly, but at a distance_.]

Bran: It does not stop, Princess.

Gleva: All yesterday, all through last night, all through this long day! Listen to it, steady as a heart beating, steady and terrible.

(_She speaks with great discouragement, moving apart, L., and sitting on tree bole_.)

Caransius (_lighting fire_): I crept to the edge of the forest to-day.

I lay very quiet behind the bushes and looked out across the clearing to the road.

Gleva: You!

[_A general exclamation of astonishment._]

Caransius: Oh, it's not easy to frighten me, I can tell you. I fought at Verulanium with the Iceni. I know. I carried a sling. (_He nods majestically at his companions._) And there you have it.

Gleva: Yes, yes, good friend. But which way did the soldiers march?

What of the road?

[_She goes over to him._]

Caransius: Mistress, there wasn't any road. There were only soldiers.

As far as my eyes could see, bright helmets and brown faces and flashing shoulder plates bobbing up and down between the trees and a smother of dust until my head whirled.

Bran and Both Attendants: Oh!

Gleva: But which way did they go?

Caransius: I lost my dog, too--the brute. He ran from me and joined the marching men. I dared not call to him.

Bran: Yes, that is the way of dogs.

Gleva: Did they go north towards the Wall? (_She shakes him._)

Caransius (_who has been blowing on the fire, now sits up comfortably and smiles upon Gleva, who is tortured with impatience_): G.o.d bless you, mistress, there isn't any Wall. I know about the Romans; I know!

I fought at Verulanium. Now!

[_Gleva turns away in despair of getting any sense out of him. A trumpet sounds on the top of Bignor Hill, faintly. All turn swiftly towards it_.]

Gleva: Ready!

[_A sound of armed men moving, a clash of shields is heard from the top of Bignor Hill._]

Now fire the torch. Give it me! (_She springs on to the bank and waves it three times from side to side, steps down, and gives it back to an attendant, who puts it out._)

Caransius (_continuing placidly_): No, there's no Wall. There are a great many mistakes made about the Romans. They are no longer the men they were. I carried a sling at Verulanium, and there you have it.

I'll tell you something. The soldiers were marching to Regnum.

Gleva: To Regnum? Are you sure?

Caransius: Yes. Up over the great Down they went. I saw their armour amongst the trees on the side of the hill, and the smoke of their marching on the round bare top.

Gleva: They were going to Regnum and the sea. (_She speaks in despair._)

Third Attendant: I am afraid.

Gleva (_turns on him scornfully_): You! Why should you fear if they are marching to the sea?

Third Attendant: I have been afraid ever since yesterday. The noise of the marching scattered my wits.

[_Gleva and the others laugh contemptuously._]

And because I was afraid--I killed. (_A low cry of consternation bursts from Bran and Caransius._)

Bran: Madman! Madman!

Gleva: You killed one of the Romans!

Third Attendant (_stands before her_): I was afraid. It was by the old forge in the forest. There's a brook by the forge.

Bran: Yes.

Third Attendant: He had fallen out of the ranks. He was stooping over the brook. I saw the sun sparkle upon his helmet as he dipped it into the water, and his strong, brown neck as he raised it. I crept close to him and struck at his neck as he drank.

Caransius: That was a good stroke.

Bran: A mad stroke.

Third Attendant: He fell over without a cry, and all his armour rattled once.

Bran: It will be the fire for our barns, and death for every tenth man of the tribe.

Third Attendant: No one saw.

Gleva: Stand here!

[_The third attendant stands before her._]

I gave an order.

Caransius: Yet, mistress, it is better to strike against orders than to leave one's friends and, like my dog, follow the marching men.

[_A cry bursts from Bran. He seizes Caransius. Gleva stands with her hand upon her knife. Then she turns away, and buries her face in her hands. A whistle is heard from the hillside above her on the left. She looks up, and her face changes. She turns to third attendant._]

Gleva: Go up the hill--close to the camp, as close as you can creep, and watch. So may you earn your pardon. (_He goes off_.) You two stand aside--but not so far but that a cry may bring you instantly.

Bran: We will be ready. (_Exeunt R._)