[_Gleva faces the spur of the hill on her left as if all her world was there. There is a movement among the trees on the spur, a flash of armour in the moonlight, and at the edge of the trees appears Quintus Calpurnius Aulus, a Captain about thirty-five years old, handsome, but in repose his face is stern and inscrutable. He is active, lithe, self-confident. He comes out into the open just below the trees, and stands quite still. His very att.i.tude should suggest strength._]

Quintus: I am here. (_He speaks with the voice of a man accustomed to command, and to have his orders obeyed without question. Gleva stands erect questioning his authority. Then she crosses her hands upon her bosom and bows her head._)

Gleva: My Lord Calpurnius.

[_Calpurnius laughs. He runs down the slope._]

Calpurnius: That's well. (_He takes her in his arms._) You have a trick of saying "Calpurnius." I shall remember it till I die.

[_Gleva draws away from him._]

Say it again.

Gleva: With all my soul in the word. It is a prayer. Calpurnius!

[_Calpurnius is moved by the pa.s.sion of her voice. He takes her hands in his._]

Calpurnius: Yes. I shall remember till I die. (_They move towards the bank._)

Gleva: My lord is late to-night.

Calpurnius: Late! A Roman soldier of fifteen years' service late. My dear, let us talk sense. Come!

[_The trumpet sounds again from the hill. Calpurnius stops._]

Gleva: Why does the trumpet sound?

Calpurnius: To call some straggler back to Rome.

Gleva: Rome! (_With a cry._)

Calpurnius: Yes. For every one of us, the camp on the empty hill-top there is Rome, and all Rome's in the trumpet call.

Gleva: Is the sound so strange and moving?

Calpurnius: Yes. Most strange, most moving. For I know that at this actual minute every Roman soldier on guard throughout the world has the sound of it in his ears, here in the forest of Anderida, far away on some fortress wall in Syria. (_Throws off his seriousness._) But I am talking of sacred things, and that one should be shy to do. Come, Gleva. We have little time. When the moon touches those trees I climb again.

Gleva: Yet, my lord, for one more moment think of me not as the foolish, conquered slave. Listen! Turn your head this way and listen.

Calpurnius: What shall I hear? Some nightingale pouring out love upon a moonlit night? He'll not say "Calpurnius" with so sweet a note as you.

Gleva: You'll hear no nightingale, nor any sound that has one memory of me in it. Listen, you'll hear--all Rome.

[_He looks at her quickly. In the pause is heard the sound of men marching._]

That speaks louder than the trumpets.

[_He is very still._]

Calpurnius! (_She sits by him, and puts an arm about his shoulder. She speaks his name as if she were afraid._) The Romans flee from Britain.

Calpurnius (_with a start of contempt_): Madness! It's one legion going home. Another, with its rest still to earn, will take its place.

Gleva: Which legion goes?

Calpurnius: How should I know? (_A pause._) The Valeria Victrix.

Gleva: Yours! (_She starts away from him._) Calpurnius, yours!

Calpurnius: Yes, mine. My legion goes to Rome. (_His voice thrills with eagerness. He has been troubled through the scene how he shall break the news. Now it is out, he cannot conceal his joy._)

Gleva: But you--you stay behind.

Calpurnius (_gently_): This is our last night together. Let us not waste it. Never was there a night so made for love. (_He draws her towards him._)

Gleva: You go with your legion?

Calpurnius: Before the dawn.

Gleva: It's impossible. No. You'll stay behind.

Calpurnius: No.

Gleva: Listen to me. You shall be King with me.

Calpurnius (_in a burst of contempt_): King here! In the forests of Britain! I!

Gleva: Yes. You'll lie quiet here. I by your side. Your hand in mine.

See! We'll forget the hours. The dawn will come.

Calpurnius: And find me a traitor!

Gleva: I am already one. There was a servant with me. He told me I was like a dog that leaves its own people to follow the marching men.

Calpurnius (_sits up_): And you let him live, with this knife ready in your girdle?

Gleva: He spoke the truth.

Calpurnius: The truth! (_Contemptuously._) There's a word for you!

Child! There's a greater thing in the world than truth. Truth wins no battles.

Gleva: What's this greater thing?

Calpurnius: Discipline! You should have struck.

Gleva: I wish I had. For he might have struck back.

Calpurnius: Discipline! So I go with my legion.