It was built long ago, across North Britain, to keep out the
Painted People--Picts, you call them. Father had fought in the great
Pict War that lasted more than twenty years, and he knew what fighting
meant. Theodosius, one of our great Generals, had chased the little
beasts back far into the North before I was born. Down at Vectis, of
course, we never troubled our heads about them. But when my Father
spoke as he did, I kissed his hand, and waited for orders. We
British-born Romans know what is due to our parents.'

'If I kissed my Father's hand, he'd laugh,' said Dan.

'Customs change; but if you do not obey your Father, the Gods remember
it. You may be quite sure of that.

'After our talk, seeing I was in earnest, the Pater sent me over to
Clausentum to learn my foot-drill in a barrack full of foreign
Auxiliaries--as unwashed and unshaved a mob of mixed barbarians as ever
scrubbed a breastplate. It was your stick in their stomachs and your
shield in their faces to push them into any sort of formation. When I
had learned my work the Instructor gave me a handful--and they were a
handful!---of Gauls and Iberians to polish up till they were sent to
their stations up-country. I did my best, and one night a villa in the
suburbs caught fire, and I had my handful out and at work before any of
the other troops. I noticed a quiet-looking man on the lawn, leaning
on a stick. He watched us passing buckets from the pond, and at last
he said to me: "Who are you?"

"'A probationer, waiting for a command," I answered. I didn't know who
he was from Deucalion!

"'Born in Britain?" he said.

"'Yes, if you were born in Spain," I said, for he neighed his words
like an Iberian mule.

"'And what might you call yourself when you are at home?" he said,
laughing.

"'That depends," I answered; "sometimes one thing and sometimes
another. But now I'm busy."

'He said no more till we had saved the family Gods (they were
respectable householders), and then he grunted across the laurels:
"Listen, young sometimes-one-thing-and-sometimes-another. In future
call yourself Centurion of the Seventh Cohort of the Thirtieth, the
Ulpia Victrix. That will help me to remember you. Your Father and a
few other people call me Maximus."

'He tossed me the polished stick he was leaning on, and went away. You
might have knocked me down with it!' 'Who was he?' said Dan.

'Maximus himself, our great General! The General of Britain who ha