In the midst of these arrangements Hermas took leave of him and of his father, for he heard the Roman war-trumpets and the drums of the young manhood of Pharan, as they marched through the short cut to meet the enemy.  He knew where the main strength of the Blemmyes lay and communicated this knowledge to the Centurion Phoebicius and the captain of the Pharanites.  The Gaul put a few short questions to Hermas, whom he recognized immediately, for since he had met him at the harbor of Raithu he could not forget his eyes, which reminded him of those of Glycera; and after receiving his hasty and decided answers he issued rapid and prudent orders.

A third of the Pharanites were to march forward against the enemy, drumming and trumpeting, and then retreat as far as the watch-tower as the enemy approached over the plain.  If the Blemmyes allowed themselves to be tempted thither, a second third of the warriors of the oasis, that could easily be in ambush in a cross-valley, were to fall on their left flank, while Phoebicius and his maniple—­hidden behind the rock on which the castle stood—­would suddenly rush out and so decide the battle.  The last third of the Pharanites had orders to destroy the ships of the invaders under the command of Hermas, who knew the spot where they had landed.

In the worst case the centurion and his men could retreat into the castle, and there defend themselves till the warriors of the nearest seaports—­whither messengers were already on their way—­should come to the rescue.

The Gaul’s orders were immediately obeyed, and Hermas walked at the head of the division entrusted to him, as proud and as self-possessed as any of Caesar’s veterans leading his legion into the field.  He carried a bow and arrows at his back, and in his hand a battleaxe that he had bought at Raithu.

Miriam attempted to follow the troops he was leading, but he observed her, and called out, “Go up to the fort, child, to my father.”  And the shepherdess obeyed without hesitation.

The anchorites had all crowded to the edge of the precipice, they looked at the division of the forces, and signed and shouted down.  They had hoped that some part of the fighting men would be joined to them for their defence, but, as they soon learned, they had hoped in vain.  Stephanus, whose feeble sight could not reach so far as the plain at the foot of the declivity, made Paulus report to him all that was going on there, and with the keen insight of a soldier he comprehended the centurion’s plan.  The troop led by Hermas passed by below the tower, and the youth waved and shouted a greeting up to his father.  Stephanus, whose hearing remained sharper than his sight, recognized his son’s voice and took leave of him with tender and loving words in as loud a voice as he could command.  Paulus collected all the overflow of the old man’s heart in one sentence, and called out his blessings through his two hands as a speaking-trumpet, after his friend’s son as he departed to battle.  Hermas understood; but deeply as he was touched by this farewell he answered only by dumb signs.  A father can find a hundred words of blessing sooner than a son can find one of thanks.