# The Gypsy Lad of Roumania/Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE.
There came a time when the faces of men and women were troubled. Even the boys and girls gathered in anxious groups. Prince Stephen had sent messengers, commanding all the men to gather into an army to repel a great invasion of the Turks. Peter had heard much of Prince Stephen before this, and the brave young ruler had become the boy’s hero. When he went to the top of the high hill beyond the pasture, he could see the turrets of Prince Stephen’s great fortified castle.
Fontanus, as a man of importance, was made captain of his village. On these days the men came from the fields early, and after supper, all the village gathered while the men and boys drilled. They practiced shooting with bows and arrows, charged imaginary enemies and marched in ordered ranks. Stephen, a good soldier himself, understood the value of drilling, and had instructed his captains what to do.
Peter would stand with the women and children watching this inspiring sight. How he wished he might drill with them! There were boys in the ranks only a year older than he. But they were tall, muscular fellows, looking several years older than they were. And Peter was small of stature. So he said nothing of his longings. He didn’t want Justus to laugh at him. Justus teased ​him sometimes about his fondness for Beauty, and said doves were pets for maidens, and that Peter would never be a man.
Peter did beg an old bow and arrows of Fontanus, however, and when he was alone watching the flock, he practiced industriously. If he ever did get tall, he meant to be a soldier, and help to save his land from this threatened terror.
There was haste in the drilling. The men’s faces were grim. Word had come that the Turks were preparing to send such a great body that they would crush Roumania so that it would never rise again.
One day Stephen and his staff rode over to the village to see how they were progressing. Peter from his place where he was watching, heard the cheers. He arose, and was thrilled with admiration when he saw the tall, splendid men, riding up toward the field where they were drilling. There were several women riding with them. Peter heard the word go around: “The princess! She comes, too. She would go and fight if she could. The Turks slew all her family. She alone was hidden by an old nurse, and escaped.”
Peter looked closely at the princess, but across the field he could see only that she had golden hair, instead of black like most of the people he knew.
After the village dignitaries had welcomed the prince’s party, the drilling began at once. Peter turned his eyes to the men. They had never done so well before. Those near enough to see the prince, knew that his eyes were sparkling with approval.
​Of a sudden, a cry of terror arose. The horse of the princess had been struck by an arrow nearly spent, and the smart of the wound set it to plunging and kicking. When Peter saw it, it was running straight toward the place where the women and children were gathered. They scattered in fear, the mothers dragging the children to safety. But Peter, not stopping to think, ran to meet the horse. He was not at all afraid of horses, and knew all about them. The gypsy chief, Michael, was a trader, and while Peter had been with the gypsies, he had helped to handle unbroken horses.
Now he sprang straight in the path of the runaway. The horse swerved, as Peter had expected, and he caught the bridle. He was not strong enough to stop the frightened creature, but he was agile enough to hold on. The princess had clung to her seat, and was tugging at the reins. With the weight at his head, the horse soon slowed down and stood trembling, while Peter passed a soothing hand over his head. Then he saw the arrow which still stuck in the horse’s shoulder, and drew it out. The prince and his attendants came galloping up by this time, and Peter, much abashed, slipped away.
When the drill was over, Justus came, in much excitement, to find Peter.
“The hospadar (Prince) would speak to you!” he cried. “I tell you, Peter, you have done a fine thing to-day. They are saying all sorts of things about you. I would not have thought you had it in you. But come on, they are waiting.”
Poor Peter would have run away gladly, but Justus ​had him by the arm, and was hurrying him along at a great rate. He raised his eyes just once when he stood before the prince.
The prince told Peter how much he thanked him for the service he had done, and asked him if he had any wish that it was in his power to grant.
“I would like to be a soldier, highness,” said Peter. The daring words rose to his lips almost unbidden.
“In faith,” said Prince Stephen, “if you had an inch or two on your stature you would be fit. Be patient, lad, I will remember you, and send for you some day. Until then, do your duty faithfully where you are.”
“I will, your highness,” murmured Peter.
As they were riding away, the princess turned her horse toward Peter, and stooping over, she said, “You are a brave lad. I thank you with my heart. And I will not let the prince forget that he is to send for you.”
Peter walked home as if on air. The family treated him with a new respect. He had become an important person.
The next week the men rode away. The harvests were in, but there was still much to be done, and Peter was the only man of the house. Indeed the only men in the village were the very aged ones, and boys like Peter. How hard he tried to be faithful! He remembered every word of Fontanus’ parting charge. He cared for the flocks, and the cows and horses. The maidens in the house had to help with the men’s work now, but Peter considered himself responsible.
One day, hearing that the men were encamped near ​the prince’s castle, Helena bade Peter ride to the camp to see how they did, and carry them some food from home. Peter was overjoyed to go on this errand. He was ready to start at dawn; and rode off over the hills pretending that he was going to be a soldier himself. He had slung his bow and quiver of arrows at his shoulder. Once he fitted an arrow and shot at a certain mark on a tree that he was approaching. He was pleased to see how close he came to the mark. When the prince sent for him, he should see that he was able to shoot straight.
He came upon a wild piece of woodland as he approached the castle. Emerging into an open glade he judged he was almost through the wood when he came upon a sight that halted him almost paralyzed with horror. A small child toddled along on the grass, and walking parallel with him, Peter could see through the bushes, a big gaunt wolf. Even as Peter stared, the wolf sought an opening in the bushes to get through. Peter fitted an arrow in haste. As the long gray head emerged within a few feet of the child, the arrow sang to its mark. It sank deep in the shoulder and the wolf sprang back with a snarl, while Peter, urging on his horse, dashed down the glade. The beast still snarled just behind the screen of bushes, and Peter could hardly halt his horse, which scented the wolf. But he slid off, holding the horse with one hand, and picked up the child.
Later, when he talked of it, Peter had to acknowledge there were a few minutes that were terrifying. Whenever he tried to put the child on the horse it would start ​away. The wounded wolf was overcoming its fear, and drawing nearer. But Peter succeeded at last in getting the child up where it clung to the horse’s mane tightly enough so that he could use one free hand to help himself. The wolf slunk after them half-heartedly, but they soon emerged upon the broad slope before the castle.
Here a frantic nurse came running to meet them. She seized the child with caresses and reproaches, declaring she had left him but a moment, but he was such a run-away that it was impossible to keep him in sight.
Peter judged himself quite authority enough to utter a dignified reproach.
“Then you would do well to give all your time to keep him in sight,” he said. “Had I been a moment later entering the glade, a wolf would have seized him.”
The nurse, and two or three other women who had joined her, cried out in horror. Looking at their pale faces, Peter thought the child would be more closely watched in the future.
Peter rode on past the castle, and down to the camp. He sought out Fontanus, and some of the other men of his village, delivering messages and gifts. However, he said nothing of his adventure with the wolf. Justus, coming upon him, cried in good-natured teasing. “Here is young David come to the camp with food for his brethren. Now if he could but slay a Goliath of the enemy! See, he has his bow and arrows along all ready for it.”
Peter laughed with him, but held his peace about the use to which he had already put an arrow.
The beast still snarled just behind the screen of bushes.
​When the soldiers were at supper that evening, the prince came riding through the camp. He drew rein at the door of Fontanus’ tent.
“Fontanus,” he said, “I think you will have to give me that boy of yours. He brings me good fortune. To-day he has done me another service. He saved the life of my son.”
Then the prince told the story as he had heard it from the women. Men from the castle had gone into the glade, and found the dead wolf. Fontanus bade the lad go into the prince’s service with his blessing. Peter was glad but for one thing. He managed to murmur a question as to who would take care of the cattle for Helena. But Fontanus said they would send for an uncle, too old for warfare, but quite strong enough for that work.
So the next day, Peter rode back with a glad heart to carry the news to the family. And the third evening saw him back at the castle, with Beauty and his other small possessions.
A week later they were off to meet the foe. Peter rode proudly just behind his prince, and not one of the staff felt a more serious responsibility than this boy.