Erich von Harben looked into the faces of the tall, almost naked, black warriors2 whose weapons menaced him across the gunwale of their low dugout, and the first thing to attract his attention was the nature of those weapons.
Their spears were unlike any that he had ever seen in the hands of modern savages3. Corresponding with the ordinary spear of the African savage4, they carried a heavy and formidable javelin5 that suggested to the mind of the young archaeologist nothing other than the ancient Roman pike, and this similarity was further confirmed by the appearance of the short, broad, two-edged swords that dangled6 in scabbards supported by straps7 passing over the left shoulders of the warriors. If this weapon was not the gladius Hispanus of the Imperial Legionary, von Harben felt that his studies and researches had been for naught8.
"Ask them what they want, Gabula," he directed. "Perhaps they will understand you."
"Who are you and what do you want of us?" demanded Gabula in the Bantu dialect of his tribe.
"We wish to be friends," added von Harben in the same dialect. "We have come to visit your country. Take us to your chief."
A tall black in the stern of the dugout shook his head. "I do not understand you," he said. "You are our prisoners. We are going to take you with us to our masters. Come, get into the boat. If you resist or make trouble we shall kill you."
"They speak a strange language," said Gabula. "I do not understand them."
Surprise and incredulity were reflected in the expression on von Harben's face, and he experienced such a sensation as one might who looked upon a man suddenly resurrected after having been dead for nearly two thousand years.
Von Harben had been a close student of ancient Rome and its long-dead language, but how different was the living tongue, which he heard and which he recognized for what it was, from the dead and musty pages of ancient manuscripts.
He understood enough of what the black had said to get his meaning, but he recognized the tongue as a hybrid9 of Latin and Bantu root words, though the inflections appeared to be uniformly those of the Latin language.
In his student days von Harben had often imagined himself a citizen of Rome. He had delivered orations10 in the Forum11 and had addressed his troops in the field in Africa and in Gaul, but how different it all seemed now when he was faced with the actuality rather than the figment of imagination. His voice sounded strange in his own ears and his words came haltingly as he spoke12 to the tall black in the language of the Caesars.
"We are not enemies," he said. "We have come as friends to visit your country," and then he waited, scarce believing that the man could understand him.
"Are you a citizen of Rome?" demanded the black.
"No, but my country is at peace with Rome," replied von Harben.
The black looked puzzled as though he did not understand the reply. "You are from Castra Sanguinarius." His words carried the suggestion of a challenge.
"I am from Germania," replied von Harben.
"I never heard of such a country. You are a citizen of Rome from Castra Sanguinarius."
"Take me to your chief," said von Harben.
"That is what I intend to do. Get in here. Our masters will know what to do with you."
Von Harben and Gabula climbed into the dugout, so awkwardly that they almost overturned it, much to the disgust of the black warriors, who seized hold of them none too gently and forced them to squat13 in the bottom of the frail14 craft. This was now turned about and paddled along a winding15 canal, bordered on either side by tufted papyrus16 rising ten to fifteen feet above the surface of the water.
"To what tribe do you belong?" asked von Harben, addressing the leader of the blacks.
"We are barbarians17 of the Mare19 Orientis, subjects of Validus Augustus, Emperor of the East; but why do you ask such questions? You know these things as well as I."
A half hour of steady paddling along winding water-lanes brought them to a collection of beehive huts built upon the floating roots of the papyrus, from which the tall plants had been cleared just sufficiently20 to make room for the half dozen huts that constituted the village. Here von Harben and Gabula became the center of a curious and excited company of men, women, and children, and von Harben heard himself and Gabula described by their captors as spies from Castra Sanguinarius and learned that on the morrow they were to be taken to Castrum Mare, which he decided21 must be the village of the mysterious "masters" to whom his captors were continually alluding22. The blacks did not treat them unkindly, though they evidently considered them as enemies.
When they were interviewed by the headman of the village, von Harben, his curiosity aroused, asked the blacks why they had not been molested23 if all of his people believed, as they seemed to, that they were enemies.
"You are a citizen of Rome," replied the headman, "and this other is your slave. Our masters do not permit us barbarians to injure a citizen of Rome even though he may be from Castra Sanguinarius, except in self-defense or upon the battlefield in time of war."
"Who are your masters?" demanded von Harben.
"Why, the citizens of Rome who live in Castrum Mare, of course, as one from Castra Sanguinarius well knows."
"But I am not from Castra Sanguinarius," insisted von Harben.
"You may tell that to the officers of Validus Augustus," replied the headman. "Perhaps they will believe you, but it is certain that I do not."
"Are these people who dwell in Castrum Mare black men?" asked von Harben.
"Take them away," ordered the headman, "and confine them safely in a hut. There they may ask one another foolish questions. I do not care to listen to them further."
Von Harben and Gabula were led away by a group of warriors and conducted into one of the small huts of the village. Here they were brought a supper of fish and snails24 and a dish concocted25 of the cooked pith of papyrus.
When morning dawned the prisoners were again served with food similar to that which had been given them the previous evening and shortly thereafter they were ordered from the hut.
Upon the water-lane before the village floated half a dozen dugouts filled with warriors. Their faces and bodies were painted as for war and they appeared to have donned all the finery of barbaric necklaces, anklets, bracelets26, arm-bands, and feathers that each could command; even the prows27 of the canoes bore odd designs in fresh colors.
There were many more warriors than could have been accommodated in the few huts within the small clearing, but, as von Harben learned later, these came from other clearings, several of which comprised the village. Von Harben and Gabula were ordered into the chief's canoe and a moment later the little fleet pushed off into the water-lane. Strong paddlers propelled the dugouts along the winding waterway in a northeasterly direction.
During the first half hour they passed several small clearings in each of which stood a few huts from which the women and children came to the water's edge to watch them as they passed, but for the most part the water-lane ran between monotonous28 walls of lofty papyrus, broken only occasionally by short stretches of more open water.
Von Harben tried to draw the chief into conversation, especially relative to their destination and the nature of the "masters" into whose hands they were to be delivered, but the taciturn warrior1 ignored his every advance and finally von Harben lapsed29 into the silence of resignation.
They had been paddling for hours, and the heat and the monotony had become almost unbearable30, when a turn in the water-lane revealed a small body of open water, across the opposite side of which stretched what appeared to be low land surmounted31 by an earthen rampart, along the top of which was a strong stockade32. The course of the canoe was directed toward two lofty towers that apparently33 marked the gateway34 through the rampart.
Figures of men could be seen loitering about this gateway, and as they caught sight of the canoes a trumpet35 sounded and a score of men sallied from the gateway and came down to the water's edge.
As the boat drew nearer, von Harben saw that these men were soldiers, and at the command of one of them the canoes drew up a hundred yards offshore36 and waited there while the chief shouted to the soldiers on shore telling them who he was and the nature of his business. Permission was then given for the chief's canoe to approach, but the others were ordered to remain where they were.
"Stay where you are," commanded one of the soldiers, evidently an under-officer, as the dugout touched the shore. "I have sent for the centurion37."
Von Harben looked with amazement38 upon the soldiers drawn39 up at the landing. They wore the tunics40 and cloaks of Caesar's legionaries. Upon their feet were the sandal-like caligae. A helmet, a leather cuirass, an ancient shield with pike and Spanish sword completed the picture of antiquity41; only their skin belied42 the suggestion of their origin. They were not white men; neither were they negroes, but for the most part of a light-brown color with regular features.
They seemed only mildly curious concerning von Harben, and on the whole appeared rather bored than otherwise. The under-officer questioned the chief concerning conditions in the village. They were casual questions on subjects of no particular moment, but they indicated to von Harben a seemingly interested and friendly relationship between the blacks of the outlying villages in the papyrus swamp and the evidently civilized43 brown people of the mainland; yet the fact that only one canoe had been permitted to approach the land suggested that other and less pleasant relations had also existed between them at times. Beyond the rampart von Harben could see the roofs of buildings and far away, beyond these, the towering cliffs that formed the opposite side of the canyon44.
Presently two more soldiers emerged from the gateway opposite the landing. One of them was evidently the officer for whom they were waiting, his cloak and cuirass being of finer materials and more elaborately decorated; while the other, who walked a few paces behind him, was a common soldier, probably the messenger who had been dispatched to fetch him.
And now another surprise was added to those which von Harben had already experienced since he had dropped over the edge of the barrier cliffs into this little valley of anachronisms—the officer was unquestionably white.
"Who are these, Rufinus?" he demanded of the under-officer.
"A barbarian18 chief and warriors from the villages of the western shore," replied Rufinus. "They bring two prisoners that they captured in the Rupes Flumen. As a reward they wish permission to enter the city and see the Emperor."
"How many are they?" asked the officer.
"Sixty," replied Rufinus.
"They may enter the city," said the officer. "I will give them a pass, but they must leave their weapons in their canoes and be out of the city before dark. Send two men with them. As to their seeing Validus Augustus, that I cannot arrange. They might go to the palace and ask the praefect there. Have the prisoners come ashore45."
As von Harben and Gabula stepped from the dugout, the expression upon the officer's face was one of perplexity.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"My name is Erich von Harben," replied the prisoner.
The officer jerked his head impatiently. "There is no such family in Castra Sanguinarius," he retorted.
"I am not from Castra Sanguinarius."
"Not from Castra Sanguinarius!" The officer laughed.
"That is the story he told me," said the black chief, who had been listening to the conversation.
"I suppose that he will be saying next that he is not a citizen of Rome," said the officer.
"That is just what he does say," said the chief.
"But wait," exclaimed the officer, excitedly. "Perhaps you are indeed from Rome herself!"
"No, I am not from Rome," von Harben assured him.
"Can it be that there are white barbarians in Africa!" exclaimed the officer. "Surely your garments are not Roman. Yes, you must be a barbarian unless, as I suspect, you are not telling me the truth and you are indeed from Castra Sanguinarius."
"A spy, perhaps," suggested Rufinus.
"No," said von Harben. "I am no spy nor am I an enemy," and with a smile, "I am a barbarian, but a friendly barbarian."
"And who is this man?" asked the officer, indicating Gabula. "Your slave?"
"He is my servant, but not a slave."
"Come with me," directed the officer. "I should like to talk with you, I find you interesting, though I do not believe you."
Von Harben smiled. "I do not blame you," he said, "for even though I see you before me I can scarcely believe that you exist."
"I do not understand what you mean," said the officer, "but come with me to my quarters."
He gave orders that Gabula was to be confined in the guardhouse temporarily, and then he led von Harben back to one of the towers that guarded the entrance to the rampart.
The gate lay in a vertical46 plane at right angles to the rampart with a high tower at either side, the rampart curving inward at this point to connect with the tower at the inner end of the gate. This made a curved entrance that forced an enemy attempting to enter to disclose its right or unprotected side to the defenders47 upon the rampart, a form of camp fortification that von Harben knew had been peculiar48 to the ancient Romans.
The officer's quarters consisted of a single, small, bare room directly off a larger room occupied by the members of the guard. It contained a desk, a bench, and a couple of roughly made chairs.
"Sit down," said the officer, after they had entered, "and tell me something about yourself. If you are not from Castra Sanguinarius, from whence do you come? How did you get into our country and what are you doing here?"
"I am from Germania," replied von Harben.
"Bah!" exclaimed the officer. "They are wild and savage barbarians. They do not speak the language of Rome at all; not even as poorly as you."
"How recently have you come in contact with German barbarians?" von Harben asked.
"Oh, I? Never, of course, but our historians knew them well."
"And how lately have they written of them?"
"Why, Sanguinarius himself mentions them in the story of his life."
"Sanguinarius?" questioned von Harben. "I do not recall ever having heard of him."
"Sanguinarius fought against the barbarians of Germania in the 839th year of Rome."
"That was about eighteen hundred and thirty-seven years ago," von Harben reminded the officer, "and I think you will have to admit that there may have been much progress in that time."
"And why?" demanded the other. "There have been no changes in this country since the days of Sanguinarius and he has been dead over eighteen hundred years. It is not likely then that barbarians would change greatly if Roman citizens have not. You say you are from Germania. Perhaps you were taken to Rome as a captive and got your civilization there, but your apparel is strange. It is not of Rome. It is not of any place of which I have ever heard. Go on with your story."
"My father is a medical missionary49 in Africa," explained von Harben. "Often when I have visited him I heard the story of a lost tribe that was supposed to live in these mountains. The natives told strange stories of a white race living in the depths of the Wiramwazi. They said that the mountains were inhabited by the ghosts of their dead. Briefly50, I came to investigate the story. All but one of my men, terrified after we reached the outer slopes of the mountains, deserted51 me. That one and I managed to descend52 to the floor of the canyon. Immediately we were captured and brought here."
For a while the other sat in silence, thinking.
"Perhaps you are telling me the truth," he said, at last. "Your apparel is not that of Castra Sanguinarius and you speak our language with such a peculiar accent and with so great effort that it is evidently not your mother tongue. I shall have to report your capture to the Emperor, but in the meantime I shall take you to the home of my uncle, Septimus Favonius. If he believes your story he can help you, as he has great influence with the Emperor, Validus Augustus."
"You are kind," said von Harben, "and I shall need a friend here if the customs of Imperial Rome still prevail in your country, as you suggest. Now that you know so much about me, perhaps you will tell me something about yourself."
"There is little to tell," said the officer. "My name is Mallius Lepus. I am a centurion in the army of Validus Augustus. Perhaps, if you are familiar with Roman customs, you will wonder that a patrician53 should be a centurion, but in this matter as in some others we have not followed the customs of Rome. Sanguinarius admitted all his centurions54 to the patrician class, and since then for over eighteen hundred years only patricians55 have been appointed centurions.
"But here is Aspar," exclaimed Mallius Lepus, as another officer entered the room. "He has come to relieve me and when he has taken over the gate you and I shall go at once to the home of my uncle, Septimus Favonius."
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1
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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javelin
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| n.标枪，投枪 | |
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dangled
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| 悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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7
straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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8
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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hybrid
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| n.(动，植）杂种，混合物 | |
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orations
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| n.（正式仪式中的）演说，演讲( oration的名词复数 ) | |
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forum
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| n.论坛，讨论会 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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13
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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papyrus
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| n.古以纸草制成之纸 | |
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barbarians
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| n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 )；外国人；粗野的人；无教养的人 | |
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barbarian
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| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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alluding
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| 提及，暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
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molested
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| v.骚扰( molest的过去式和过去分词 )；干扰；调戏；猥亵 | |
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snails
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| n.蜗牛；迟钝的人；蜗牛( snail的名词复数 ) | |
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concocted
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| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的过去式和过去分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
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bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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prows
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| n.船首( prow的名词复数 ) | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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32
stockade
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| n.栅栏，围栏；v.用栅栏防护 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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35
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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offshore
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| adj.海面的，吹向海面的；adv.向海面 | |
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centurion
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| n.古罗马的百人队长 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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40
tunics
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| n.（动植物的）膜皮( tunic的名词复数 )；束腰宽松外衣；一套制服的短上衣；（天主教主教等穿的）短祭袍 | |
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41
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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42
belied
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| v.掩饰( belie的过去式和过去分词 )；证明（或显示）…为虚假；辜负；就…扯谎 | |
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43
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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44
canyon
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| n.峡谷，溪谷 | |
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45
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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46
vertical
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| adj.垂直的，顶点的，纵向的；n.垂直物，垂直的位置 | |
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47
defenders
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| n.防御者( defender的名词复数 )；守卫者；保护者；辩护者 | |
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48
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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49
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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50
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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51
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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52
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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53
patrician
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| adj.贵族的，显贵的；n.贵族；有教养的人；罗马帝国的地方官 | |
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54
centurions
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| n.百人队长，百夫长（古罗马的军官，指挥百人）( centurion的名词复数 ) | |
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patricians
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| n.（古罗马的）统治阶层成员( patrician的名词复数 )；贵族，显贵 | |
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