y of command or warning rang out ahead, and the rheda stopped
short with a jolt. Ligurius had thrown his horse upon his haunches and
then backed him so as to take post at that side of the vehicle
unprotected by Caipor; but, a moment later, the rush of a dozen tall
figures thrust them both away, the curtains were torn aside, and Marcia
looked out into savage faces and great, staring, blue eyes. Three or
four overlapping circlets of iron just above the hips seemed the limit
of these men's defensive armour, and the skin of some animal was thrown
about the brawny shoulders of such as had not replaced their barbaric
mantles with the Roman military cloak; the hair of each, black or red,
but always long and indescribably filthy, was caught up in a knot at
the top of the head, whence it streamed away, loose or matted, like the
tail of an unkempt horse; their feet were bare, and their legs were
covered by linen breeches bound close with leathern thongs. It needed
not the great broad-swords slung about their shoulders to tell them for
Hannibal's Gauls--creatures scarcely half human, whose name brought
terror to the Roman maiden of the days of Cannae, as the sight of them
had carried death or slavery to her less-favoured sister of the blacker
days of the Allia.

But Marcia showed little of womanish weakness. To the jargon of a
dozen voices--a jargon that sounded like the yelping and barking of a
pack of dogs--she opposed a cold and dignified silence. A dozen hands
reached out to touch her, as they would touch something strange and
admirable; but she drew back, and the rude hands and staring, blue eyes
fell before the flash of her indignation.

At that instant, a man strode forward, hurling the soldiers from his
path to right and left, or striking them fiercely with his staff.
Taller by almost half a head than the others, his richer vesture and
arms, but, above all, the gold collar about his neck and the gold
bracelets upon his arms, marked the chief. Standing by the rheda, he
met Marcia's look of proud defiance, for a moment; then his eyes
shifted and seemed to wander; but, cloaking with martial sternness the
embarrassment of the barbarian, he spoke in Gallic:--

"Who are you?"

Unable to understand the question, much less to answer it, she turned
away and ignored both the man and his words. Again the look of
indecision and embarrassment returned to his face; but, glancing round,
he saw Ligurius struggling in the hands