know their reason.  Her big son had lived in a village which belonged to the Maranovitch and he had been called out to fight for his lords.  He had not wanted to fight and had not known what the quarrel was about, but he was forced to obey.  He had kissed his handsome wife and four sturdy children, blubbering aloud when he left them.  His village and his good crops and his house must be left behind.  Then the Iarovitch swept through the pretty little cluster of homesteads which belonged to their enemy.  They were mad with rage because they had met with great losses in a battle not far away, and, as they swooped through, they burned and killed, and trampled down fields and vineyards.  The old woman’s son never saw either the burned walls of his house or the bodies of his wife and children, because he had been killed himself in the battle for which the Iarovitch were revenging themselves.  Only the old grandmother who lived in the hut near the frontier line and stared vacantly at the passers-by remained alive.  She wearily gazed at people and wondered why she did not hear news from her son and her grandchildren.  But that was all.

When the boys were over the frontier and well on their way along the roads, it was not difficult to keep out of sight if it seemed necessary.  The country was mountainous and there were deep and thick forests by the way—­forests so far-reaching and with such thick undergrowth that full-grown men could easily have hidden themselves.  It was because of this, perhaps, that this part of the country had seen little fighting.  There was too great opportunity for secure ambush for a foe.  As the two travelers went on, they heard of burned villages and towns destroyed, but they were towns and villages nearer Melzarr and other fortress-defended cities, or they were in the country surrounding the castles and estates of powerful nobles and leaders.  It was true, as Marco had said to the white-haired personage, that the Maranovitch and Iarovitch had fought with the savageness of hyenas until at last the forces of each side lay torn and bleeding, their strength, their resources, their supplies exhausted.

Each day left them weaker and more desperate.  Europe looked on with small interest in either party but with growing desire that the disorder should end and cease to interfere with commerce.  All this and much more Marco and The Rat knew, but, as they made their cautious way through byways of the maimed and tortured little country, they learned other things.  They learned that the stories of its beauty and fertility were not romances.  Its heaven-reaching mountains, its immense plains of rich verdure on which flocks and herds might have fed by thousands, its splendor of deep forest and broad clear rushing rivers had a primeval majesty such as the first human creatures might have found on earth in the days of the Garden of Eden.  The two boys traveled through forest and woodland when it was possible to leave the road.