CHAPTER XVI.
Constantine, who was now a manly fellow of nearly eighteen years, hadleft the house when it grew dark. The night was thick, for heavyclouds had spread their pall over the sky. A little space from thehouse was the kennel. A deep growl greeted his approach to it.
"Still, Balk!" muttered he, as he loosed an enormous mastiff, and ledthe brute toward the side of the house on which the clijet, orchamber, occupied by Morsinia was located.
"Down, Balk!" he said, as again and again the huge beast rose andplaced his paws upon his master's shoulders. Balk was tied within aclump of elder-bushes a little way from the house, and at the openingof a foot-path ascending the mountain. The young man lay down with hishead upon the mastiff. Nearly an hour passed; the silence unbrokenexcept by a querulous whine of the dog as his comrade refused toindulge his playful spirit. Suddenly Balk threw up his head andsniffed the air nervously. Yet no sound was heard, but the soughing ofthe winds through the budding trees, and the murmur of the brook. Theanimal became restless and would not lie down except at the sternlywhispered command.
Leaving him, Constantine opened the shutter of the clijet occupied byhis father and himself, and quietly entered. Though in the dark, hestrung a strong bow, balanced several arrows in his hand to determinethe best, saying to himself as he did so, "I can send these straightin the direction of a sound, thanks to my night hunting!" A dagger wasthrust into the top of his leather hose. He wound his head in thestrooka--the cloth which answers for both cap and pillow to those whoare journeying among those mountains and liable to exposure withoutbed or roof at night.
The noise though slight awakened Milosch, who had fallen into a lightsleep.
"Where now, my boy? No coon will come to you such a night as this."
"Father, I did not tell you, because you laugh at my fears," saidConstantine in a low tone. "But the anxiety of Uncle Kabilovitsch andthe great captain, too, when I went to camp last week, makes me morecautious about Morsinia. The Vili are about, as the girls said."
"Nonsense, you child! It's a shame that a boy of your years shouldbelieve such stuff. Besides what have the Vili to do with ourdaughter?"
"Look here, father; when I was searching for a rabbit's burrow thisafternoon I saw the footprint of one of them, and it wore a soldier'sshoe too. That is the sort of Vili I believe in."
"Why, boy!" said Milosch, "your head is so full of soldiering thatrabbits' burrows look like soldiers' feet. Or your head is so turnedwith love for our girl, that you must imitate the Latin knights, andgo watch beneath the shutter of your lady's castle. Go, along, then,and let the night dews take the folly out of you. Foolish boy!" addedhe, as he turned toward the wall.
Constantine went back to the dog. The huge beast had thrust himselfas far as the cord would allow him in the direction away from thehouse, and stood trembling with excitement as he peered into the blackshadows which lay against the mountain. Constantine could detect nounusual sound save the creaking of the gigantic limbs of the trees asthey rubbed against each other in the rising wind, the sharpeningwhistle of the breeze, and the crackle of the dead brushwood. Yet themastiff's excitement increased. He strained the rope with his utmoststrength, but the hand of his master upon his neck checked the whininggrowl.
A branch snapped on the hillside in the direction of the path.
"No wind did that," muttered he. A stone rolled down the declivity.
"No foot familiar with that path did that. You are right, Balk!" andby main strength he pressed the mastiff's head to the ground, and,with his arm about his neck, kept him crouching and silent.
Stealthy steps were heard.
"One! Two!" counted the boy. "You and I are enough for them, eh,Balk?"
The dog licked the face of his master in token that he understood, andwould take his man if Constantine would do equally well.
"Three! Four! Five! A large band! Too many for us, Balk! We must rousethe village----"
But at the moment he would have started, his attention was arrested bylow voices almost at his side.
"The clijet nearest. When she is taken I will sound the buglecall--the Turkish call, so that your dash through the village will bethought to be one of their dashes. Do as little real damage as youcan, keeping the appearance of a genuine raid; but no matter if youhave to cut the throats of a half-dozen or more; especially thered-headed fellow you have seen in camp, and the old devil with theparalyzed arm. I and Waldy will carry the girl, and wait for you bythe horses on the open road. Let's inspect!"
Two dusky outlines moved toward the house. Constantine cut the rope,and, at a push of his hand the dog crawled a few feet until he wasclear of the copse; then sprang into the air. There was a hardlyaudible exclamation of surprise and terror; a low growl of satisfiedrage, as when a tiger seizes the food thrown to him in his cage. Oneman is down in death grapple with his strange assailant whose teethare at his throat. A sharp whiz and a cry of pain tell that the arrowof Constantine has not missed its mark.
A second whiz, and the form topples!
The boy stood stupefied with the reaction of the moment. But themultiplying footfalls along the ledge aroused him. He darted into thehouse, swinging the great bar that turned on a peg in the door postacross the entrance, and thus securing it behind him. To arouse thehousehold was the work of a moment. A word explained all. Arms wereseized, not only by the men, but also by the women: for even to thisday a marauder will meet no more skilful and brave defenders of thevillages of Albania than the wives and daughters who encourage the menby their example as well as by their words. Their hands are trained touse the sword, the axe, the dagger; and the cry of danger transformsthe most domestic scene into an exhibition of Amazons.
The expected attack was delayed. Fears were excited lest the raiderswere about to set fire to the house. If such were the case, the policyof the inmates was to sally forth and cut their way through theassailants, at whatever cost. Some one must go out. It might be tomeet death at the door. Standing in a circle they hastily repeated thePater Noster, each one giving a word in turn; the one to whom the"Amen" came accepting the appointment as directly from God. With drawnweapons they gathered at the door, which was opened suddenly. No enemyappearing, it was closed, leaving the new sentinel without.
After going a few paces the guard stumbled over the dead body of thedog, by the side of which a man was vainly struggling to rise. Drawinghis dagger he would have completed the work of the mastiff'sfangs,--when he checked the impulse by better judgment--
"No, it's better to have him along with us. He'll come handy before weget through this job!"
So, grasping the two arms of the wounded man in such a way as toprevent his using a weapon, if strength enough should remain, he swungthe helpless hulk upon his back, as he had often carried the carcassof a wolf down the mountain; and, giving the preconcerted signal atthe door, was instantly re-admitted.
The wounded man wore the Turkish uniform, and was evidently theofficer in charge of the raiding party. This fact sufficientlyexplained the delay in following up the attack, for doubtless his menwere still waiting for the order which he would never give.
"We must rouse our neighbors," said the old man, who was recognized asthe commandant of the dwelling, and obeyed as such with that reverencefor seniority which is to this day a beautiful characteristic of theAlbanian people.
Constantine held a hurried, but confidential talk with Milosch, whoproposed that Constantine and his sister should undertake thehazardous venture of alarming the next house. All remonstrated againstMorsinia's venturing, the patriarch refusing to allow it. Miloschpersuaded him with these words, which were not overheard by theothers--
"She is the chief object of attack; this I have discovered. If sheremains in the house she will be captured. Her only safety is to leaveit, and disappear in the darkness. Once out there she can hide nearby, or can thread her way up among the crags, where no stranger's footwill ever come. She knows every stone and tree in the dark as well asa mole knows the twists and
turns of his burrow."
Morsinia caught at once the spirit of the adventure, and in hereagerness preceded Constantine to the doorway. The thrill of fear onher account gave way to a thrill of applause for her as she stood inreadiness. She had donned a helmet of thick half-tanned hides, and acorsage of light iron links, looped together and tied with leathernthongs, about her person. Her arms were left free for the use of thebow and stock which swung from her shoulder, and the klaptigan, orshort dagger, which hung in the plaits of her kilt.
"The Holy Virgin protect her!" was the prayer which came from allsides as she flung her arms about the neck of Milosch, and as sheafterward bowed her head to receive the kiss of the patriarch upon herforehead. The light in the room was extinguished that their exit mightnot be noted by any without when the door should open.
For a moment Constantine and Morsinia stood close to the door whichhad closed behind them. Their keen hearing detected the fact that thehouse was surrounded, though by persons stationed at a distance,chiefly upon the higher slopes of the hills. The road to the nexthouse was evidently guarded.
Constantine insisted upon Morsinia's concealing herself rather thanattempting to go with him to the neighbors; but only afterremonstrance with him did she consent to his plan. Silently crossingthe road, and without so much as breaking a stick or rustling a deadleaf beneath her feet--a dexterity acquired in approaching the timidgame with which the mountains abounded, and which she had oftenhunted--she disappeared in the dense copse.
Constantine moved cautiously by the wayside, easily eluding the noticeof the men whose dark outlines were discerned by him as they stood onguard at intervals along the road. He had nearly approached theneighboring house when the still night air was rent with the shrillnote of a Turkish bugle call from the direction of the dwelling theyhad left.
"Could it be that the captured officer had recovered sufficientreason and strength to break from his captors and give the signal?"thought Constantine. The call sounded again--it was evidently from adistance, beyond the village. A score or more dim forms at the soundgathered in the road; some emerging from the bushes near, othersdescending from points high up the slopes on either side--theirhurried but muffled conversation showed that they were about to makethe appointed dash upon the doomed dwelling. But a second blare oftrumpets sounded far down toward the entrance of the valley, followedby a clanging of armor and clatter of horses' feet. Torches glared faraway. A party was evidently just winding out of the defile into theopen space where the hamlet stood. Rescuers doubtless! for the firstparty of raiders scattered to right and left, and were heard climbingagain up the wooded slopes. Morsinia hastened to Constantine, andtogether they hurried to meet the new comers. But they were notrescuers. They attacked the house with shouts of "Allah! Allah!" Theyfired it with their torches. Some poured along the road toward thenext house.
They were genuine Turks. Unable to conquer Scanderbeg in battle, thegreat army had spread everywhere to lay waste the country. In fertilemeadows, along every stream, wherever a castle or chalet was known tobe, raged the numberless soldiers, who, beaten in nobler fight, soughtvengeance by becoming murderers of the more helpless, and kidnappersof women and children to fill their harems.
With flying feet Constantine and Morsinia outstripped the riders,alarmed the second house, and ran to the third. Behind them thecrackling flames told that it was too late to return. All who couldescape gathered at the great konak. Since a similar raid, some yearsbefore, this building had been converted into a rude fortification.The wall which surrounded it, as an enclosure for sheep and cattle,had been built up high and strong enough to prevent any approach tothe main structure by an anticipated foe, except as the scalers of thewall should be exposed to the missiles of those within. The konakproper was pierced with loop-holes, through which a shower of arrowscould be poured by unseen archers.
The court was already filled with the fugitives, while some hadentered the building, when it was surrounded by the Turks. Constantinehad gained from Morsinia a promise to avoid exposure; and had agreedupon a place of meeting on the mountain, in the event of their bothsurviving the conflict. But the eagerness of Constantine overcame hisdiscretion, and, heading a group of peasants who had not been able toenter the konak, he mingled in a hand-to-hand fight with theassailants. Morsinia's interest led her to closely watch the fray fromthe bordering thicket, changing her position from time to time thatshe might not lose sight of the well-known form of her foster-brother.Seeing him endangered, she could not resist the vain impulse to fly tohis assistance; as if her arms could stay those of the stout trooperswho surrounded him; or as if a Turk could have respect for a woman'spresence. Scarcely had she moved from her covert when strong handsseized her, and, by a quick movement, pinioned her arms behind herback.
"Ho! man, guard this girl! If my houri escapes, your head shall beforfeit," cried her captor, an officer, to a common soldier who washolding his horse. In a moment he was lost to sight in the strugglingthrong.
The wall was carried, and, though many a turban had rolled from thelifeless head of its wearer, the building was finally fired--lifebeing promised to the women who should surrender. Some of these, whowere young, were thrust from the door by their kindred, who preferredfor them the chances of miserable existence as Turkish prey, to seeingthem perish with themselves. Most, however, fought to the last by theside of their husbands and fathers, and were slain in the desperateattempt to make their way from the flames which drove them out.
Constantine, by strange strength and skill, extricated himself fromthe melee. A sharp flesh wound cooled his blind rage; and, realizingthat another's life, as dear to him as his own, was involved in hissafety, he withdrew from the danger, and sought Morsinia.
Not finding her during the night, he returned in the earliest dawn tothe konak. The building was in ruins; the ground strewn with dead andwounded. With broken hearts the few who had escaped were bewailingtheir loved ones killed or missing. But there was no tidings ofMorsinia. In vain the woods were searched; every old trysting placesacred to some happy memory of the years they had spent together--theeagle's crag, the cave in the ravine, the dense copse. But onlymemories were there. Imagination supplied the rest--a horridimagination! The poor boy was maddened and crushed; at one moment afiend; at the next almost lifeless with grief.
An examination at the lower house discovered the body of his father,Milosch. He had been killed outside the house; for his body, thoughterribly gashed, was not burned, as were those found within the wallsof the building.
Constantine had, up to this time, regarded himself as a boy; now hefelt that he was a man, with more of life in its desirableness behindthan ahead of him: a desperate man, with but a single object to livefor, vengeance upon the Turk, and upon those who, worse than Turks, ofAlbanian blood, had first attempted Morsinia's capture.
Yet there was another thing to live for. Perhaps she might berecaptured. Improbable, but not impossible! That, then, should be hiswaking dream. Such a hope--hope against hope--was all that could makelife endurable, except it were to drain the blood of her captors.
He was driven by the poignancy of his grief and the hot fury of hisrage, to make this double object an immediate pursuit. He felt that hecould not sleep again until he had tasted some of the vengeance forwhich he thirsted.
But how could he accomplish it? He must lay his plan, for it wereworse than useless to start single-handed without one. He must plothis tragedy before he began to execute it.
He sat down amid the ruins of the hamlet--amid the ruins of hishappiness and hopes--to plot. But he could devise nothing. Hisattempts were like writing on the air. He sat in half stupor; hispower to think crushed by the dead weight of mingled grief and thesense of impotency.
But suddenly he started----
"Fool! fool, that I am, to waste the moments! This very night it maybe done."
He hastily stripped the body of a dead Turkish soldier, and, rollingthe uniform into a compact bundle, plunged with it through the thicketan
d up the steep mountain side.
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