THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS

CONTENTS


PAGE

I THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS 9

II THE LAST GALLEY 22

III THROUGH THE VEIL 37

IV THE COMING OF THE HUNS 47

V THE CONTEST 68

VI THE FIRST CARGO 83

VII AN ICONOCLAST 98

VIII GIANT MAXIMIN 112

IX THE RED STAR 141

X THE SILVER MIRROR 158

XI THE HOME-COMING 177

XII A POINT OF CONTACT 202

XIII THE CENTURION 215




THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS




THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS
_and Other Tales of Long Ago_




I

THE LAST OF THE LEGIONS


Pontus, the Roman viceroy, sat in the atrium of his palatial villa by
the Thames, and he looked with perplexity at the scroll of papyrus which
he had just unrolled. Before him stood the messenger who had brought it,
a swarthy little Italian, whose black eyes were glazed with want of
sleep, and his olive features darker still from dust and sweat. The
viceroy was looking fixedly at him, yet he saw him not, so full was his
mind of this sudden and most unexpected order. To him it seemed as if
the solid earth had given way beneath his feet. His life and the work of
his life had come to irremediable ruin.

"Very good," he said at last in a hard dry voice, "you can go."

The man saluted and staggered out of the hall. A yellow-haired British
major-domo came forward for orders.

"Is the General there?"

"He is waiting, your excellency."

"Then show him in, and leave us together."

A few minutes later Licinius Crassus, the head of the British military
establishment, had joined his chief. He was a large, bearded man in a
white civilian toga, hemmed with the Patrician purple. His rough, bold
features, burned and seamed and lined with the long African wars, were
shadowed with anxiety as he looked with questioning eyes at the drawn,
haggard face of the viceroy.