“So she has, mother,” said the centurion. “You forget our Lord Constantine.”
“Our Lord Constantine!” she repeated. “Who is Constantine? Why, I remember his mother—a slave girl—whom the Irish pirates carried off from somewhere in the North. Constantine’s father bought her, and married her. Why should he be Emperor? I could make as good a one any day out of a faggot stick.”
“Peace, dear mother,” said the centurion, soothingly, afraid that her words might have other listeners.
“Why not you,” went on the old woman, unheeding; “you are better born.”
“I, Emperor!” cried the centurion. “Speak good words, dearest mother.”
“Well,” said the old woman, dropping her voice again, “they are poor creatures now-a-days.” And she relapsed into silence, looking again as wholly indifferent to the present as if the strange outburst of rage and impatience which her family had just witnessed had never taken place.
The family discussed the position of affairs anxiously till far into the night.
“And what will happen,” said the wife, “when the legions are gone?”
“There will be a British kingdom, I suppose; and, if it were united, it might stand. But it will not be united. It will be every man for himself.”
“And how about the Saxons and the Picts? If the legions hardly protected us from them, how will it be when they are gone?”
The centurion’s look grew gloomier than ever. “I know,” he said, “the prospect is a sad one. But I hope that for a year you will be fairly safe; and after that I shall hope to send for you. Or you might go over to Gaul. But I hope to see the Count of the Shore about these matters. He will give me the best advice. Here, of course, you can hardly stay, even if you cared to do it; and some place must be found. Meanwhile, make all the preparations you can for a move.”
The resolution to leave Britain was announced at a general meeting of the soldiers on the following day, and was received by it with tremendous enthusiasm. To most who were present, Gaul seemed a land of promise. It was from Gaul that almost every article of luxury that they either had or wished to have was imported, and some of the necessities of life, as notably wine, were known to be both better and cheaper there than in Britain. Comfortable quarters in wealthy cities, which were ready to be friendly, or could easily be brought to reason if they were not; easy campaigns, not against naked Picts, but against civilized enemies who had something to lose; and when the time of service was over, a snug little farm, with corn land, pasture, and vineyard, and a hard-working native to till it—such were the dreams which floated through the soldiers’ minds; and they were ready to go anywhere with the man who promised to make them into realities. Older and more prudent men who knew that there were two sides to the question, and the unadventurous, who were well content to stay where they were, could not resist the tide of popular feeling, and concealed, if they did not abandon, their doubts and scruples. As money was scarce, the men volunteered to forego their pay till it could be returned to them with large interest in the shape of prize-money. They even gave up to the melting pot the silver ornaments from their arms and from the trappings of their horses. The messengers who were sent with the tidings of the proposed movement to the other camps—which were now mainly to be found in the southern part of the island—found the troops everywhere well disposed, and within a few days every military station was alive with the stir and bustle of preparations for a move.