’"I wish you joy of us,” said Pertinax.  “We’re the last sweepings of the Empire—­the men without hope.  Myself, I’d sooner trust condemned criminals.”

’"You think so?” he said, quite seriously.  “But it will only be till I win Gaul.  One must always risk one’s life, or one’s soul, or one’s peace—­or some little thing.”

’Allo passed round the fire with the sizzling deer’s meat.  He served us two first.

’"Ah!” said Maximus, waiting his turn.  “I perceive you are in your own country.  Well, you deserve it.  They tell me you have quite a following among the Picts, Parnesius.”

’"I have hunted with them,” I said.  “Maybe I have a few friends among the Heather.”

’"He is the only armoured man of you all who understands us,” said Allo, and he began a long speech about our virtues, and how we had saved one of his grandchildren from a wolf the year before.’

‘Had you?’ said Una.

’Yes; but that was neither here nor there.  The little green man orated like a—­like Cicero.  He made us out to be magnificent fellows.  Maximus never took his eyes off our faces.

’"Enough,” he said.  “I have heard Allo on you.  I wish to hear you on the Picts.”

’I told him as much as I knew, and Pertinax helped me out.  There is never harm in a Pict if you but take the trouble to find out what he wants.  Their real grievance against us came from our burning their heather.  The whole garrison of the Wall moved out twice a year, and solemnly burned the heather for ten miles North.  Rutilianus, our General, called it clearing the country.  The Picts, of course, scampered away, and all we did was to destroy their bee-bloom in the summer, and ruin their sheep-food in the spring.

’"True, quite true,” said Allo.  “How can we make our holy heather-wine, if you burn our bee-pasture?”

’We talked long, Maximus asking keen questions that showed he knew much and had thought more about the Picts.  He said presently to me:  “If I gave you the old Province of Valentia to govern, could you keep the Picts contented till I won Gaul?  Stand away, so that you do not see Allo’s face; and speak your own thoughts.”

’"No,” I said.  “You cannot remake that Province.  The Picts have been free too long.”

’"Leave them their village councils, and let them furnish their own soldiers,” he said.  “You, I am sure, would hold the reins very lightly.”

“Even then, no,” I said.  “At least not now.  They have been too oppressed by us to trust anything with a Roman name for years and years.”

’I heard old Allo behind me mutter:  “Good child!”

’"Then what do you recommend,” said Maximus, “to keep the North quiet till I win Gaul?”

’"Leave the Picts alone,” I said.  “Stop the heather-burning at once, and—­they are improvident little animals—­send them a shipload or two of corn now and then.”

’"Their own men must distribute it—­not some cheating Greek accountant,” said Pertinax.