The Second Macabre Megapack

by Various Writers

  In the autumn the conquering army was much diminished; now that the war was removed from their borders, the allies became lazy and sluggish; and to fight a decisive battle large reinforcements were necessary.

  Then many brave noblemen, recalling the fame of their ancestors, raised troops among their mountain vassals, collected ammunition, armed them at their own expense, and brought them to strike a blow for Prince and Fatherland.

  On every side joyful notes pealed out from the war-horns of the approaching squadrons, and no one doubted with such aid, that the coming battle would decide the war and bring peace in its train.

  Wildech, who was now a general, honoured with the confidence of the prince, had taken his place in a council of war, to determine the best and quickest way to end this great enterprise successfully; full of youthful ardor he was for the speediest mode, and thanked the new soldiers for their important aid. Loud cheers followed his advice, and all caught zeal from Wildech.

  The other generals did not rely so much on their new recruits; some thought they should be allowed time for training; some were silent, smiling scornfully; others whispered loudly that they were not imaginative enough to believe such things; some wished the prince to review them that they might see to what sort of soldiers they trusted their honor and their reputation. Many of the old veteran heroes wished for their youthful strength again to plunge into battle.

  The prince turned to Julius—

  “General Wildech, they appear to wish to serve under you. Prepare the young hero-band for battle, and at daybreak tomorrow I will be with you.”

  In the morning twilight, the prince’s signal for battle was seen before Julius had had time to review all the new troops.

  “You will all learn best in battle,” he said kindly to them; and with eyes sparkling with ardor, he looked quick as lightning at the enemy’s arrangements, and sent his aids and orderlies with commands to the troops to commence the assault. All had wished to fight under Count Wildech, and at this call, their zeal for battle burnt brightly in their young hearts.

  The battle began. Following their gallant young leader, the brave band rushed up the mountain: but the enemy knowing well the importance of this post, had placed here not only their best troops and most skillful captain, but so powerful a battery, as to render it almost impregnable. Many of his best soldiers fell, bathed in their own blood: if they faltered, a kind look and encouraging word from their young commander, urged them on again. Wildech was everywhere. Wherever the battle raged hottest, he was there—and wherever he appeared, he was welcomed with loud vivats and huzzas! Cheerfully his troops followed him, when the first height was won. Julius thought he saw Colonel Halderbach leading his own troops, and his doubt was changed to certainty when the scarred old huntsman on the wonderful horse, which he well remembered, sprung towards him.

  “General,” said the old huntsman, “Count Halderbach, who commands Division No. 3 of the right wing, sent me to tell you that the enemy are coming against him in full run and to demand permission to turn their flank; in doing so he must break the rank.”

  Julius thought an instant, looked sharply over to the distant spot, and then spoke:

  “The colonel may do what appears to him best to maintain his post; perhaps the battle may be won at one stroke: I have already provided another way to cover the right wing, but the colonel must remember while the enemy are very strong, we are weak in cavalry, and that his post is weak and open to attack. God be with you. Greet your brave colonel for me.”

  Thankfully the old huntsman hastened back, and so soon as Julius had given orders for the change in the plan of battle, and placed his orderlies from height to height, that they might give him notice of’ the enemy’s motions, he hastened to the spot destined for the attack.

  Like a messenger of death, the frightful old Halderbach pointed out the enemy to him; already their left wing was in full flight, and Julius’ aids flew so quickly from one band of sharp shooters to another, that the enemy, through the rich mountain growth, could scarcely distinguish which were Julius’ troops, and which their own.

  “Now is the time!” cried out Julius, suddenly. “The whole line forward: the column is rushing down upon us!”

  At this signal, the horns and joyful huzzas of the soldiers echoed through the valley and were mockingly returned by the enemy’s soldiers.

  Now the shooters shot no longer. They fought with swords and fixed-bayonets, rejoicing that the battle had closed. Julius surprised and took from them their strong position, and on this side the battle was decided: he had taken all the enemy’s cannon, and his cavalry saw from a distance that they could now safely ride over the plain and form behind the enemy.

  Julius paused with a joyful, but anxious heart, on the last-won heights. Halderbach was still pursuing the host who fled before him, and soon would be in the open ground where the enemy’s hussars had formed.

  Disregarding Julius’ orders to keep together, the troops were running hither and thither, pursuing the flying infantry. The enemy’s cavalry were distant, and so busily employed that they did not fear them.

  “Ride,” cried Julius to one of his aids, “ride as quickly as you can to Colonel Halderbach, and warn him he ventures too far the enemy’s cavalry will be upon him.”

  Scarcely had the aid sprung forth, when Colonel Halderbach, urged by an eager desire for battle, rushed into the woody plain held by the enemy, and quick as lightning they were upon him.

  Julius glowed with anger at the thought that a rose would be torn from the conquering crown of today. He looked at his aids and officers, and cried,

  “We will go with two squadrons—not more: that troop alone will not do. Soldiers, forward, gallop, march!”

  And so rushed he forth with naked sword and loud huzzas, followed by his little band. With loud shouts they rushed on the enemy who, surprised by this sudden onset, were in part ridden over while a part fled. The soldiers of Halderbach were saved, but the colonel himself was torn bleeding and unarmed from his half-killed horse by two hussars and carried off. Then once more Julius spurred his good Abdul and quickly reached them; one of the hussars fell under his sword—the other in despair turned his pistol against his prisoner, but Julius struck it from his hand; in falling it went off and wounded the valiant knight. With bleeding breast Julius sunk on his horse’s neck and soon fell fainting to the earth.

  When his consciousness returned he found himself on a soft couch, in a magnificent chamber of a princely country house, that lay in the midst of the conquered mountain wood. The hero’s inquiring looks were answered by his adjutant, who informed him that on every side the battle had been decisively won, that the colonel had been saved, and still suffering from a slight wound on his head, had been brought here.

  With a grateful smile, Julius took the hand of this brave man. Hot tears stood in his eyes. He called the surgeon. Julius understood him. He wished to ask a few questions, but his wounded breast would not suffer him to speak out. He beckoned the surgeon to come to him and then slowly and with difficulty said,

  “How long yet, on your word of honor?”

  “Eight days, perhaps; at the most fourteen,” answered the surgeon with grave sadness; he knew it would be both foolish and useless to deceive his general.

  Julius thankfully raised his hands to heaven;—now he should die for his Prince, his Fatherland, and Rosaura, and go from the battle-field home to his family in heaven; something like this, as a child, he had often pictured to himself, and as a young man, dreamed of, both sleeping and waking.

  The half-yearly time for the suffering of the Halderbachs was near; he anxiously desired to die before it came, and so save Rosaura such dreadful suffering. Then he thought how dreadful it would be for the old count, with his wounded head, to be taken. He drew pen and paper towards him, and wrote with a weak and trembling hand—“Day and night two surgeons and three officers must be with Colonel Halderbach—every two hours report to me.”

  The surgeon bowed
respectfully, and went to see the order obeyed. Julius, almost free from pain, sunk into a sweet slumber.

  Days went and nights came, and the news from the colonel was always good. The surgeon could not understand why the general was so anxious, and often assured him the colonel’s wounds were trifling and almost healed.

  Contrary to all expectation Julius also grew better; he discovered it from the cheerful face of his adjutant and the bright smile of the surgeon. Julius sighed at the thought of Rosaura’s sad sufferings being prolonged.

  Time passed on. It was more than three weeks since the glorious victory. The surgeons were always more hopeful.

  One day Colonel Halderbach, who was entirely cured, desired to speak alone to Julius. A slight shudder ran through Julius’ frame. The possibility of a sudden fit of madness, in his present weak state, came into his sick fancies; but he was naturally brave, and consented to the visit.

  Grave and solemn, and with a thoughtfulness Julius had never before seen in him, the old man came in.

  “Fear nothing more from me, young hero,” he said, low and softly, “for the madness of my race is over: the time has passed more than twelve hours, and I have not felt the slightest symptom. You have saved us, my noble Wildech. But ah! notwithstanding the physicians’ hopes, I fear my niece, Rosaura, will be a widow.”

  He wept quietly, but bitterly.

  “From that victorious day, all recollection of the cursed frightful time seemed to vanish. But alas! my brave, scarred old huntsman fell in my defence, and was buried on the battle-field. You also will soon be buried.”

  His voice was stifled by sobs, and he bowed his grey head on his hands. But Julius, to whom the news of Rosaura’s safety came like a healing balsam to his breast and whole frame, raised himself up with unwonted strength and said—

  “Be quiet, you gray hero of Halderbach, be quiet; I shall yet enjoy many happy years with Rosaura—for believe me, what my grandfather prophecied has happened.”

  Astonished, in doubt and joy, the old man looked at the inspired Julius; but before more could be said, the adjutant announced the prince, and the kind father of his country came in.

  “I have brought something pleasant with me, Count Wildech,” he said kindly, after the first greeting was over: “First, what your true heart most desires—our country has peace, firm, lasting peace, gained by our victories in which you have borne so noble a part; then a less matter,” and he drew from his pocket the stars and bands of the most honourable order in the kingdom, and laid them on the sick man’s bed, and added,

  “The conqueror of this wooded height is from this instant my Lieutenant-General, and what will please you much, my courier brings you good news. My daughter Alwine writes me the Countess Rosaura is wholly free from her misfortune, and here is a letter from the countess herself, which will tell you why I no longer tremble for the life of my brave Wildech.”

  With eyes sparkling with joy, Julius gazed on the dear letter, opened it and read the following words:

  “The time for my frightful journey came. I had prepared for it in silence and prayer. It has passed harmlessly over. Ah! Julius, livest thou yet, or has thy death sealed my peace. That would be a dreadful peace. But no, Julius, thou livest and the curse has passed; a dream told me so yesterday—hear it.

  “The clouds opened over my mountain castle and I saw the golden sun of paradise therein: there stood thy prophet forefather in a purple mantle covered with glorious stars; he raised up my poor erring ancestor, Wolfgran, and both sung—’ Now has the curse passed away, for a Wildech has shed his blood to save a Halderbach.’ Then the two embraced and became two angels with heavenly blue wings. Julius! my beloved, my saviour, Julius, it was no vain dream. Thou livest, noble Wildech, and will live for thy true wife,

  ROSAURA, Countess of Wildech,

  born Von Halderbach.”

  And the hope was fulfilled. Julius returned well; and from this happy union sprung sons and daughters to add fame to their races as Heaven had promised.

  THE ENCHANTED GIFTS, by Mrs. Jane L. Swift

  In the days when magic was practised in Persia, there lived in Ispahan a wise and skilful magician, whose name was Kabulneza. He had spent a long life in acquiring the secrets of his art, and was consulted in omens and auguries by even the monarchs of the East. He was a counsellor of princes; and no chief, who could gain access to him, would commence any undertaking of importance, without first having recourse to his cabalistic lore, and his enchanted spells. But he had never made a bad use of the power which he possessed; and knew little about evil genii, excepting as he invented charms to repel their baleful approach.

  With all his art, however, he was unable to resist the influence of time, or to ward off the stroke of death; and when he had reached his eightieth year he prepared for the event, which he expected at a certain moment. His auguries proved true; and on the last day that he had to live, he sent for his brother’s four sons, who were all young men just entering upon the duties and cares of life. He had loved them well, and they had been educated by him in the ancient lore of their land; but he had not initiated them into the mysterious spells by which he exercised so mighty an influence over mind and matter. He knew, too, the bias of their minds, and by his dying instructions he wished rather to leave them a salutary token of his regard, than to bestow upon them the dangerous art he exercised.

  As with unfeigned sorrow they approached the dying magician, their eyes fell upon the articles that were placed on a small table before him; a golden purse, a silver wand, a ruby heart, and a magic glass.

  “I have sent for you, my sons,” said the sage, “to bestow upon you a portion of what I have to leave. You have seen me rich, powerful, beloved and happy; at least, as much so as mortal can be. Here are the means, but I cannot give them; you must choose, and in the order of your birth. Neither may I advise you in your choice; your own inclinations must prompt your decisions.”

  “The glass will be for me,” thought the youngest, as he looked with a sigh upon the other glittering treasures, and regretted, for the first time, that nature had not bestowed the privilege of seniority upon him.

  Elmana, the eldest, came forward; and bending on one knee said, “I choose the purse, father.”

  “As I thought, Elmana, you have chosen what you imagine will procure all that your heart sighs for; it is yours, but yours to use and not to abuse. While that purse is in your possession, you have but to wish for the gold that you desire, and it will fill your coffers at your bidding. But the purse may be lost, or stolen from you; there is no spell to guard it from accidents like these.”

  The second, Haladdin, eagerly pointed to the ruby heart, “give me that, father,” he exclaimed, with a glowing cheek. A smile passed over the countenance of the sage as he said, “You would try its power over the beautiful Kezia; is it not so, Haladdin?” The youth blushed and spoke not. “Take it, my son, and while it remains with you, it will enable you to possess the heart of her you love; but remember, that it may be lost, and nothing can replace it.”

  The third, in his turn, came forward and chose the wand. “Your spirit, Hazif, is a high and noble one, but this will prove a dangerous gift unless used with discretion. It will give you power when you wish to exercise it; power to sway the minds of others—but the wand may be broken, it is for you to guard it well.”

  With downcast eye the favorite nephew of the seer bent at his feet and said, “This glass is mine, father, without right of choice; but I shall value and keep it in remembrance of you. When I am old, I may need it.”

  “Not so, Riezzin, it is for the young, as well as for the aged; and if I had my life to live over again, I would choose, my son, what by chance has fallen to you. This glass will enable you to view every thing in life through a true medium; but you must guard it and keep it bright. You will find it a greater treasure than you deem it now.”

  “And now, farewell my sons. The shades of death are gathering round me, and I go to the home of my fathers.
Remember the advice of Kabulneza, and cherish his memory when there is nothing left to you but his tomb.”

  * * * *

  Quarter of a century had elapsed; and the name of the magician no longer resounded through the length and breadth of the land. He had gone down with his generation into the vale of forgetfulness; and slept, undisturbed, in the tomb of his fathers. Others, skilled in the magic of their clime, arose to replace him; yet none acquired the influence over the wise and great that Kabulneza had succeeded in obtaining.

  It was a gala day in the city of Ispahan. The sun had shed its last ray upon the gilded domes and minarets of the gorgeous capital; and as darkness drew her veil around, the glimmer of lamps gradually brightened the scene, until thousands of them glittered in the streets and squares. The city was illuminated to celebrate the accession of the recently appointed Vizier Azem to his office. He had that day made his triumphal entry into the city, and had taken possession of the palace prepared for him.

  [The Vizier Azem is the, prime minister of Persia, or “the, great supporter of the empire; as he alone almost sustains the whole weight of the administration.”]

  From the balcony of his princely residence, the Vizier looked out upon the eager crowd anxious to do honor to the new favorite; while, undazzled by the splendid career that seemed to open before him, he calmly listened to the seductive tones of flattery, and turned away with a smile from the obsequious attention of his followers. He was a man about five-and-forty years of age, tall and commanding in his form, with a mild, benignant expression of countenance, that seemed as if it had never been ruffled by the contending passions that so soon grave their deforming furrows in the brow.

  As the night waned, festivity and revelry gave place to a profound stillness; and, at length, dismissing his attendants, the Vizier retired to an apartment that overlooked the gardens of his seraglio. The moon shone brightly in, and lent a softened beauty to the oriental magnificence of all that surrounded him. He had sought the quiet of the midnight hour to compose his excited mind, and to commune with his spirit on the eventful proceedings of the day. He had not long been there, when a veiled female glided quickly to his side, and before he was aware of her entrance, she had cast herself upon her knees at his feet, and was gazing with an expression of the deepest attachment into his face.