The Captain of the Janizaries

by James M. Ludlow

  CHAPTER V.

  "By the beard of Moses! I'll break your head with my stick if you comestumbling over me in that way," growled Scanderbeg from beneath hisblanket, as a peasant-clad man tripped against his huge form extendedby the camp fire.

  "Then let the cold shrink your hulk to its proper size," replied thestranger. "But you should thank me, instead of cursing me, for wakingyou up; for your fire is dying out, and you would perish, sleeping inthe blanket that exposes your feet that it may cover your nose. ButI'll stir your fire and put some sticks on it, if I may sit by it andmelt the frost from my beard and the aches from my toes. But whom haveyou here?"

  The man stooped down and eagerly removed the blanket from thepartially covered faces of the children.

  "Constantine!" he exclaimed, "God be praised! and Kabilovitsch'sgirl,--or the starlight mocks me!"

  "Father!" cried the boy, waking and throwing his arms about the neckof the man who stooped to embrace him.

  "And Michael? is he here, too?" asked Milosch.

  "No, father," said the child. "We were parted at the cave, and I havenot seen him except in my dream."

  "In your dream, my child? In your dream? Jesu grant he be not killed,that his angel spirit came to you in your dream! Did he seem brightand beautiful--more beautiful than you ever saw him before--as if hehad come to you from Paradise? No? Then he is living yet on the earth;and by all the devils in hell and Adrianople! I shall find him, thoughI tear him from the dead arms of the traitor Castriot himself, as Iwas near to taking you, my boy, from the grip of the Turk whose heartI pierced with an arrow the day of the fight;--but I was set upon andnigh killed myself by a score of the Infidels."

  "And our mother dear?" asked Constantine. "She is safe?"

  "Ay! ay! safe in heaven, I fear, but we will not give up hope until wehave searched our camps to-morrow; nor then, until we have burnedevery seraglio of the Turks from the mountains to the sea. But whobrought you and the lass here?" asked Milosch, eyeing the form of thesurly man beside him.

  "Why, good Uncle Kabilovitsch did," said the boy, staring in amazementat the spot now usurped by the strange figure of Scanderbeg.

  "Kabilovitsch went to fetch some fire-peat from the gully I told himof," muttered Scanderbeg.

  "Yes, he is coming yonder," said Milosch, as Kabilovitsch's well-knownhood and cape were outlined against the white background of asnow-covered fir tree a short distance off. "But he has found no fuel.Wrap close, my hearties: you will have no more blaze to-night. Ha!Kabilovitsch!" said he, raising his voice, as the familiar form seemedabout to pass by. "Has the fire in your eye been put out by the cold,that you cannot find your own place, neighbor? I would have swornthat, if Kabilovitsch were blind, he could find a lost kid on themountains; and now he hardly knows his own nest."

  The assumed Kabilovitsch came near, and gave an awkward salute, which,while intended to be familiar, was not sufficiently unlimbered of thehabit of authority to avoid giving the impression that its familiaritywas only assumed.

  "By the beard of Moses! I had almost mistook my own camp, now thefires are smouldering," said he, approaching.

  "He is not Kabilovitsch," said Milosch, half to himself and halfaloud.

  "No," replied Scanderbeg. "But I'll go and find Kabilovitsch. Perhapshe has more peat than he can carry. And, stranger, I'll help you findwhat you are seeking--for you seem daft with the cold--if you willhelp me find him I am to look for. By the beard of Moses! that's afair agreement; is it not?"

  "A strange swear, that!" said Milosch, looking after the two formsvanishing among the fir trees. "It is some watchword, and I like itnot among these camp prowlers. I fear for Kabilovitsch. The newcomerwore his clothes, which I would know if I saw them on the back of thecardinal; for good Helena cut the hood for our neighbor as she cut theskirt for his motherless child, little Morsinia there. Some mischiefis brewing. I shall watch and not sleep a wink."

  Had one been lurking in the copse of evergreens to which the menwithdrew, he would have overheard conversation of which thesesentences are parts.

  "Yes, General Hunyades, the time has come. I can endure the service ofthe Sultan no longer. But for what I am about to do I alone amresponsible, and must decline to share that responsibility with anyother, either Moslem or Christian. I believe, Sire, that I am in thisdirected by some higher power than my own caprice. I am compelled toit by invisible forces, as really as the stars are dragged by themthrough the sky yonder."

  "No star," replied Hunyades, "has purer lustre than that of your noblepurpose, and none are led by the invisible forces to a brighterdestiny than is Scanderbeg."

  "Let not your Christian lips call me Scanderbeg, but Castriot," saidhis companion. "Yes, I believe that my new purpose comes from theinbreathing of some celestial spirit, from some mysterious hearing thesoul has of the inarticulate voice of God. Else why should the thoughtof it so strangely satisfy me? I cast myself down from the highestpinnacle of honor and power and riches with which the Moslem servicecan reward one;--for I am at the head of the army, and even theVizier has not more respect at Adrianople than have I wherever thesoldiers of the Sultan spread themselves throughout the world. Toleave the Padishah will be to leave every thing for an uncertainfuture. Yet I am more than content to do it."

  "Not for an uncertain future, noble Castriot," replied Hunyadeswarmly, grasping his hand. "The highest position in the armies ofChristian Europe is yours. My own chieftaincy I could demit withoutregret, knowing that it would fall into your hands. The army of Italyyou can take command of to-morrow if you will; for thatscarlet-knobbed coxcomb of an ecclesiastic, Julian, is not fitted forit. Or Brankovitch, the Servian Despot, will hail you as chiefvoivode.[15] You have but to choose from our armies, and put yourselfat the head of whatever nation you will: for the legions will followthe pointing of your invincible sword as bravely as if it were thesword of Michael, the Archangel."

  "No! No! These things tempt me not," said Scanderbeg. "I must liveonly for Albania. That strange spirit which counsels me comes into mysoul like a pure blast from off my Albanian hills. The voices thatcall me are like the dying voice of my father, the sainted Duke John,who prayed then for his land and for his son--for both in the onebreath that floated his soul to God. Let me look again upon the rockyfastnesses of the Vitzi, the waters of little Ochrida and Skidar, andcall them mine; I shall then not envy even the plume on your helmet,generous Hunyades; nor regret what I forsake among the Moslems,though my estate were that of the entire empire which the Padishahsees in his dreams, when, not the city of Adrian, but the city ofConstantine shall have become his capital."

  "Christendom will hardly forgive the slight you put upon it, nobleCastriot, by declining some general command, and will soon growjealous of your exclusive devotion to little Albania," said Hunyades,with evident candor.

  "Christendom will not lose, but gain, thereby," replied Scanderbeg."For is not Albania, after all, a key point in the mighty battle whichis still to be waged with the Turk over these Eastern countries ofEurope, from Adria to the Euxine?"

  "How so?" asked Hunyades. "Have we not this day broken the power ofthe Turk in Europe? and is he not now in headlong haste to the sea ofMarmora?"

  Scanderbeg replied with slow, but ominous, words:

  "General Hunyades, the Moslem power was not this day broken. Trust notthe semblance. My arm could have hurled your soldiers down thenorthern declivities of yonder mountains with as much ease as yoursshattered the Turkish ranks at Vasag and Hermannstadt. The armiesstill in front of you wait but the word to assail your camp with direvengeance for their mysterious defeat--ay, mysterious to them. And thePadishah is hasting with the hordes released by his victories over theCaramanians, to join them. No, Sire, the battle for empire on theseplains, and in Macedonia, and along the Danube, has not ended: it hasbut just begun. And Albania will be the key spot for a generation tocome. No Ottoman wave can strike central Europe but over the Albanianhills. A Christian power entrenched there will be a counter menace toevery invasi
on from the side of the Moslem, and a tremendous auxiliaryin any movement from the side of Christendom. My military judgmentconcurs with the voice of that spirit which speaks within me, and bidsme as a Christian to live for Albania."

  "I see in your plan," replied Hunyades, "a gleam of that far wisdomthat won for you the title of 'The eye of the Ottoman,' as your valormade you the 'right hand of the Sultan.' While my view of the relativepower of the two civilizations now fronting each other on ourbattle-lines might be different from yours, and I should place the keypoint in the great field rather on the lower Danube than so far to thewest, I yet submit my judgment to yours. Assign to me my part in theaffair you would execute, and, my word as a soldier and a Christian,you shall have my help."

  "Nay," replied Scanderbeg. "As I said, I can share the responsibilityof my action with no one. Grave charges will ring against my name. Myold comrades will scorn my deed as treacherous. Even history will failto understand me. Let me act alone; obeying that strange voice whichwill justify me, if not before men, at least at the last day of theworld's judgment. The Moslem has wronged me; outraged my humanity;slit the tongue of my conscience that it should not speak to me of myduty; and tried to put out the eyes of my faith. The Divinity bids meavenge myself. But the vengeance is only mine, and God's. No otherhand must be stained with the blood of it, least of all thine, nobleHunyades. My plan must be all my own. I only ask that, when I haveextricated myself from Moslem ties, I may have the friendship ofHunyades. Especially that the way may be left open for my passingthrough the places now held by your troops, without challenge anddelay. All else has been arranged by a handful of faithful Albanianpatriots."

  "It shall be as you desire, General Castriot. Choose your password,and it shall open the way for you though it were through the back doorof the Vatican."

  "Let then the 'beard of Moses' be respected. My trusty Albanians areaccustomed to it."

  "Good!" replied Hunyades. "And I will seal our compact by takingAdrianople in honor of the departure of its only defender."

  "Nay," said Scanderbeg. "It will not be wise to press upon thecapital. Every approach is guarded more securely than were those atVienna by the Christians. The Padishah's engineers are more skilfulthan any in the land of the Frank or German. The new compound ofsaltpetre and sulphur, of which you hardly know the use, is buriedbeneath every gate; and a spark will burst it as AEtna or Vesuvius.[16]Even the valor of the White Knight cannot conquer the soullesselement. The black grains never blanch with fear. No panic can diverta stone ball hurled from cannon so that it shall not find the heart ofthe bravest. I advise that your armies pause awhile with the prestigeof having scaled the Balkans. In a few months opportunities may haveripened. Once I am in Albania, Sultan Amurath shall know that thename of Scanderbeg--the Lord Alexander--was not his, but Fate'sentitling; for, unless my destiny is misread, the Macedonian legionsof the Great Alexander were not swifter than my new Macedonian bravesshall be. This will encourage the Venetians and Genoese; and withtheir navies on the Hellespont, the timid Palaelogus pressing out fromhis covert of Constantinople, and insurrection everywhere from theCrimea to Peloponnesus, there will not, a generation hence, be left aturban in Europe. Believe me, General, the Turk's grip of nearly acentury, since he pinched the continent at Gallipoli, cannot beloosened in a day."

  "To no other than Castriot would I yield my judgment; and not to him,but that his words are as convincing as his sword. Then so let it be,"was the reply of the Christian leader.

  The Albanian disappeared.

  FOOTNOTES:

  [15] Voivode; a Servian and Albanian term for general.

  [16] Gunpowder was at this time coming into general use.