The man 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 warriors, who seized hold of them none too gently and forced them to squat in the bottom of the frail craft. This was now turned about and paddled along a winding canal, bordered on either side of tufted papyrus 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 warriors.
'We are barbarians of the Mare 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 sufficiently 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 decided must be the village of the mysterious 'masters' to whom his captors were continually alluding. The Negroes 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 him why they had not been molested 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 Negroes?' 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 snails and a dish concocted 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, bracelets, armbands, and feathers that each could command; even the prows 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 chiefs 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 monotonous 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 warrior ignored his every advance and finally von Harben lapsed into the silence of resignation.
They had been paddling for hours, and the heat and monotony had become almost unbearable, 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 surmounted by an earthen rampart, along the top of which was a strong stockade. The course of the canoe was directed toward two lofty towers that apparently marked the gateway through the rampart.
Figures of men could be seen loitering about this gateway, and as they caught sight of the canoes a trumpet 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 offshore 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 chiefs 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 centurion.'
Von Harben looked with amazement upon the soldiers drawn up at the landing. They wore the tunics 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 antiquity; only their skin belied 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 Negroes of the outlying villages in the papyrus swamp and the evidently civilized 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 canyon.
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 barbarian 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 ashore.'
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.
