CHAPTER III.
In the winter of 1443--a few months subsequent to the events withwhich our story begins--the Pass of Slatiza echoed other sounds thanthe cry of the eagle, the bleating of the flocks, and the songs andhalloos of the mountaineers. Distant bugle calls floated between thecliffs. At night a fire would flash from a peak, and be suddenlyextinguished, as another gleamed from a peak beyond. Strange men hadgone up and down the road. With one of these Uncle Kabilovitsch hadwandered off, and been absent several days. Great was the excitementof the little folks when Milosch told them that a real army was notfar off, coming from the Christian country to the north of them, andthat its general was no other than the great Hunyades, the WhiteKnight of Wallachia--called so because he wore white armor--the son ofthat same King Sigismund and the fair Elizabeth Morsiney. How littleMorsinia's cheeks paled, while those of the boys burned, and theireyes flashed, as their father told them, by the fire-light in thecentre of their cabin, that the White Knight had already conquered theTurks at Hermanstadt and at Vasag and on the banks of the Morava, andwas--if the story which Milosch had heard from some scouts weretrue--preparing to burst through the Balkan mountains, and descendupon the homes of the Turk on the southern plains. Little did theysleep at night, in the excitement of the belief that, at any day, theymight see the soldiers--real soldiers, just like those of Alexander,and those of Bajazet--tramping through the Pass. The tremor of theearth, occasioned by some distant landslide, in their excitedimagination was thought to be due to the tramp of a myriad feet. Thehoot of the owl became the trumpet call for the onset: and the sharpwhistle of the wind, between leafless trees and along the ice-coveredrocks, seemed like the whizzing flight of the souls of the slain.
Once, just as the gray dawn appeared, Kabilovitsch, who had beenabsent for several days, came hurriedly with the alarming news thatthe Turks, steadily retiring before the Christians, would soon occupythe Pass. They were already coming up the defiles, as the mists risealong the sides of the mountains, in dense masses, hoping to gain suchvantage ground that they could hurl the troops of Hunyades down thealmost perpendicular slopes before they could effect a secure lodgmenton the summit. The children and women must leave herds and homes, andfly instantly. The only safe retreat was the great cave, which themountaineers knew of, lying off towards the other Pass, that ofSoulourderbend.
The fugitives were scarcely gone when the mountain swarmed withMoslems. The mighty mass of humanity crowded the cliffs like beespreparing to swarm. They fringed the breastworks of native rock withabattis made of huge trunks of trees. During the day the Turks haddiverted a mountain stream, so that, leaving its bed, it poured a thinsheet of water over the steepest part of the road the Christians wereto ascend. This, freezing during the night, made a wall of ice. TheChristians were thus forced to leave the highway and attempt to scalethe crags far and near; a movement which the Turks met by spreadingthemselves everywhere above them. Upon ledges and into crevices whichhad never before felt the pressure of human feet clambered thecontestants. Every rock was empurpled with gore. Turkish turban andHungarian helmet were caught upon the same thorny bush; while theheads which had worn them rolled together in the same gully, andstared their deathless hatred from their dead eyes.
The Turks in falling back discovered the mouth of the cave in whichthe peasants had taken refuge. As the Moslem bugles sounded theretreat, lest they should be cut off by the Christians who had scaledthe heights on their flanks, they seized the women and children, whosoon were lost to each other's sight in the skurry of the retiringhost. The hands of Constantine were tied about the neck, and his legsabout the loins, of a huge Moslem, to whose keeping he had beencommitted. An arrow pierced the soldier to the heart.
It seemed as if more than keenness of eye--some inspiration of hisfatherly instinct--led Kabilovitsch on through the vast confusion, fardown the slope, outrunning the fugitives and their pursuers, avoidingcontact with any one by leaping from rock to rock and darting like aserpent through secret by-paths, until he reached the horsemen of theTurks, who had not been able to follow the foot-soldiers up the steepascent. He knew that his little girl would be given in charge to someone of these. He, therefore, concealed himself in the growing darknessbehind a clump of evergreen trees, close to which one must pass inorder to reach the horses. A moment later, with the stealth and thestrength of a panther, he leaped upon a Turk. The man let go the tinyform of the girl he was carrying; but, before he could assume anattitude of defence, the iron grip of Kabilovitsch was upon histhroat, and the steel of the infuriated old man in his heart. Underthe sheltering darkness, carrying his rescued child, Kabilovitschthreaded his way along ledges and balconies of rock projecting soslightly from the precipitous mountain that they would have beendiscerned, even in daylight, by no eye less expert than his own. Atone place his way was blocked by a dead body which had fallen from theledge above, and been caught by the tangled limbs of the mountainlaurel. Without relinquishing his load, he pushed with his foot thelifeless mass down through the entanglement, and listened to thesnapping of the bushes and the crashing of loosened stones, until theheavy thud announced that it had found a resting place.
"So God rest his soul, be he Christian or Paynim!" muttered the oldman. "And now, my child, are you frighted?"
"No, father, not when you are with me," said Morsinia.
"Could you stand close to the rock, and hold very tight to the bush,if I leave you a moment?"
"Yes, father, I will hold to the bush as tight as it holds to therock."
Kabilovitsch grasped a root of laurel, and, testing it with mainstrength, swung clear of the ledge, until his foot rested upon anotherledge nearly the length of his body below. Bracing himself so that hespanned the interval with the strength of a granite pillar, he badethe child crawl cautiously in the direction of his voice. As shetouched his hands, he lifted her with perfect poise, and placed herfeet beside his own on a broad table rock.
"Now, blessed be Jesu, we are safe! Did I not tell you I would someday take you to a cavern which no one but Milosch and I had ever seen?Here it is. Unless Sultan Amurath hires the eagles to be his spies--asthey say he does--no eye but God's will see us here even when the sunrises. You did not know, my little princess, what a coward your oldfather had become, to run away from a battle. Did you, my darling?"said he kissing her. "Never did I dream that Ar----, that Kabilovitschwould fly like a frightened partridge through the bushes. But mygirl's heart has taken the place of my own to-night."
As he spoke he slipped from his shoulders the rough cape, or armlessjacket, of bear-skin, and wrapped the girl closely in it. He thencarried her beneath the roof of a little cave, where he enfolded herin his arms, making his own back a barrier against the cutting nightwind and the whirling snow. The cold was intense. Thinking only of thedanger to the already half-benumbed and wearied body of the child, hetook off his conical cap, and unwound the many folds of coarse woollencloth of which it was made, and with it wrapped her limbs and feet.
Thus the night was passed. With the first streak of the dawnKabilovitsch crept cautiously from the ledge, and soon returned withthe news that the Turks had vanished, swept away by the tide ofChristian soldiers which was still pouring over and down the mountainin pursuit.
Horrible was the scene which everywhere greeted them as they clamberedback toward the road. The dead were piled upon the dying in everyravine. Red streaks seamed the white snow--channels in which thecurrent of many a life had drained away. The road was choked with thehurrying victors. But the old man's familiarity with the ground foundpaths which the nimble feet of the maid could climb; so that the daywas not far advanced when they stood on the site of their home.Scarcely a trace of the little hamlet remained. Whatever could beburned had fed the camp-fires of the preceding night. The houses hadbeen thrown down by the soldiers in rifling the grain bins which werebuilt between their outer and inner walls.
The old man sat down upon the door-stone of what had been his home.His head dropped upon his bosom. Morsinia stood
by his side, her armabout his neck, and her cheek pressed close to his, so that her brightgolden hair mingled with his gray beard--as in certain mediaevalpictures the artist expresses a pleasing fancy in hammered work ofsilver and gold. They scarcely noticed that a group of horsemen, moregaily uniformed than the ordinary soldiers, had halted and werelooking at them.
"By the eleven thousand virgins of Coln! I never saw a more uniquepicture than that," said one who wore a skull cap of scarlet, while anattendant carried his heavy helmet. "If Masaccio were with us I wouldhave him paint that scene for our new cathedral at Milano, as anallegory of the captivity in Babylon."
"Rather of the captivity in Avignon. It would be a capitalrepresentation of the Holy Father and his daughter the Church,"replied a companion laughing. "Only I would have the painter insertthe portrait of your eminence, Cardinal Julian, as delivering themboth."
"That would not be altogether unhistoric; for the deliverance was notwholly wrought until our time," replied the cardinal, evidentlygratified with the flattering addition which his comrade, KingVladislaus, had made to his pleasing conceit. "But if to-day's victorybe as thorough as it now looks, and we drive the Turks out of Europe,it would serve as a picture of the captivity in which the haughty,half-infidel emperor of the Greeks and his daughter, Byzantium, willsoon be to Rome."
"But, by my crown," said Vladislaus, "and with due reverence for thegreat cardinal under whose cap is all the brain that Rome can nowboast of--I think the Greeks will find as much spiritual desolation inMother Church as these worthy people have about them here."
"I can pardon that speech to the newly baptized king of half-barbarianHungary, when I would not shrive another for it," replied Julianpetulantly. "The son of a pagan may be allowed much ignoranceregarding the mystery of the Holy See. But a truce to our badgering!Let us speak to this old fellow. Good man, is this your house? BySaint Catherine! the girl is beautiful, your highness."
"It was my home, Sire, yesterday, but now it is his that wants it,"replied Kabilovitsch.
"And where do you go now?" asked the cardinal.
"Towards God's gate, Sire; and I wish I might see it soon, but forthis little one," said the old man, rising.
"Holy Peter let you in when you get there," rejoined His Eminence,turning his horse away.
"Hold! Cardinal," replied the king. "I am surprised at that speechfrom you. You have tried to teach me by lectures for a fortnight pastthat Rome has temporal as well as spiritual authority, all power onearth as well as in heaven. Now, by Our Lady! you ought to help thisgood man over his earthly way towards God's gate, as well as wish himluck when he gets there. But the priest preaches, and leaves the laityto do the duties of religion. Credit me with a good Christian deed tobalance the many bad ones you remember against me, Cardinal, and Iwill help the man. The golden hair of the child against the old man'shead were as good an aureole as ever a saint wore. And that Holy Peterknows, if the Cardinal does not. Ho, Olgard! Take the lass on thesaddle with you. And, old man, if you will keep close with yourdaughter, you will find as good provision behind the gate ofPhilippopolis as that in heaven, if report be true. And, by SaintMichael! if we go dashing down the mountain at this rate we will vaultthe walls of that rich Moslem town as easily as the devil jumped thegate of Paradise."
Kabilovitsch trudged by the side of Olgard, who held Morsinia beforehim. It was hard for the old man to keep from under the hoofs of thehorses as the attendant knights crowded together down the narrow andtortuous descent. Suddenly the girl uttered a cry, and, clapping herhands, called,
"Constantine, Constantine!"
The missing lad, emerging from a copse, stood for an instant inamazement at the apparition of his little playmate; then dashed amongthe crowd toward her.
"Drat the witch!" said a knight--between the legs of whose horse theboy had gone--aiming at him a blow with his iron mace. Constantinewould have been trampled by the crowding cavalcade, had not the stronghand of a trooper seized him by his ragged jacket and lifted him tothe horse's crupper.
"So may somebody save my own lad in the mountains of Carpathia!" saidthe rough, but kindly soldier.
"Ay, the angels will bear him up in their hands, lest he even dash hisfoot against a stone, for thy good deed," exclaimed a monk, who, withhood thrown back, and almost breathless with the effort to rescue thelad himself, had reached him at the same moment.
"Good Father, pray for me!" said the trooper, crossing himself.
"Ay, with grace," replied the monk, extricating himself from thecrowd, and hasting back to the side of a wounded man, whom hiscomrades were carrying on a stretcher which had been extemporized withan old cloak tied securely between two stout saplings.
As night darkened down, the plain at the base of the mountain burstinto weird magnificence with a thousand campfires. The Turks were infull retreat toward Adrianople, and joy reigned among the Christians.It was the eve of Christmas. The stars shone with rare brilliancythrough the cold clear atmosphere.
"The very heavens return the salutation of our beacons," said KingVladislaus.
A trumpet sounded its shrill and jubilant note, which was caught up byothers, until the woods and fields and the mountain sides were floodedwith the inarticulate song, as quickly as the first note of a birdawakens the whole matin chorus of the summer time.
Cardinal Julian, reining his horse at the entrance to the camp,listened as he gazed--
"'And with the angel there was a multitude of the heavenly hostpraising God!' Let us accept the joy of this eve of the birth of ourLord as an omen of the birth of Christian power to these lands, whichhave so long lain in the shadow of Moslem infidelity and Greek heresy.Our camps yonder flash as the sparks which flew from the apron of theInfant Jesu and terrified the devil.[12] Sultan Amurath has beenscorched this day, though the infernal fiend lodge in his skin, as Iverily believe he does."
"Amurath was not in personal command to-day. At least so I am told,"replied Vladislaus. "He is occupied with a rebellion of theCaramanians in Asia. Carambey, the Sultan's sister's husband, led theforces at the beginning of the fight. He was captured in the bog, andis now in safe custody with the Servian Despot, George Brankovich.Hunyades and the Despot have been bargaining for his possession. Butthe real commandant, as I have learned from prisoners--at least he waspresent at the beginning of the fight--was Scanderbeg."
"Scanderbeg?" exclaimed Julian with great alarm. "What! the Albaniantraitor, Castriot?--Iscariot, rather, should be his name--This then,Your Majesty, is no night for revelry; but for watching. The flight ofthe enemy, if Scanderbeg leads them, is only to draw us into a net.What if before morning, with the Balkans behind us, we should beassaulted with fresh corps of Turks on the front? There is nofathoming the devices of Scanderbeg's wily brain. And never yet hashe been defeated, except to wrest the better victory out of seemingdisaster. Does General Hunyades know the antagonist he is dealingwith? that it is not some bey or pasha, nor even the Sultan himself,but Scanderbeg? I have heard Hunyades say that since the days ofSaladin, the Moslems have not had a leader so skilful as that Albanianrenegade: that a glance of his eye has more sagacity in it than thedeliberations of a Divan:[13] and that not a score of knights couldstand against his bare arm. We must see Hunyades."
"I confess," replied King Vladislaus, "that I liked not the easyvictory we have had. I would have sworn to prevent a myriad foesclimbing the ice road we travelled yesterday, if I had but a companyof pikemen; yet ten thousand Turkish veterans kept us not back; andthey were led by Scanderbeg! There is mystery here. Jesu prevent itshould be the mystery of death to us all! Let's to Hunyades! If onlyyour wisdom or prayers, Cardinal, could reclaim Scanderbeg to hisChristian allegiance, I would not fear Sultan Amurath, though he werethe devil's pope, with the keys of death and hell in his girdle."
Hunyades was found with the advance corps of the Christians. But forhis white armor he could scarcely be distinguished from some subalternofficer, as he moved among the men, inspecting the details of theirencampment. The contra
st of the commander-in-chief with the kingly andthe ecclesiastical soldier was striking. He listened quietly to theirsurmises and fears, and replied with as little of their excitement asif he spoke of a new armor-cleaner:
"Yes! we shall probably have a raid from Scanderbeg before morning.But we are ready for him. Do you look well to the rear, KingVladislaus! And do you, Cardinal, marshal a host of fresh Latinprayers for the dying; for, if Scanderbeg gets among your Italians,their saffron skins will bleach into ghosts for fright of him."
The cardinal's face grew as red as his cap, as he replied:
"But for loyalty to our common Christian cause, and the example ofsubordination to our chief, I would answer that taunt as it deserves."
FOOTNOTES:
[12] Vide Apochryphal Gospels.
[13] Divan; the Turkish Council of State.
The Captain of the Janizaries Page 3
