CHAPTER VI.
Hunyades, closely muffled in his bear-skin disguise, returned to thecamp.
"A desperate adventure that of Castriot," thought he. "It is well thathe permits no voice but his own to speak his plans, and no ear butmine to hear them.
"Hist!
"No; it is but the ice crackling from the balsams. Yet who knows whatinterlopers there may have been? and if the brave Scanderbeg may notbe hamstrung before he reaches his own camp? The ride will be long andrattling after he enters the Turkish lines. Will it excite nosuspicion? Nor his absence? Heaven guard the brave heart, for the verymole holes in the ground are the Sultan's ears, into which he drinksthe secrets of his soldiers. By the way, I must lift the dirty capfrom the fellow who called me Kabilovitsch at the herdsman's fire; forthe messenger who brought me word surely said that only Castriot andthe two children were there. Who may this other one be? I mustdiscover; and if he knows aught he should not, he shall know no morethis side of hell-gate, or my dagger's point has grown so honest thatit has forgotten the way to a knave's heart."
Approaching the little group, Hunyades went behind them, that, ifpossible, he might overhear some words before any persons there knewof his presence.
Milosch had been ill at ease through the continued absence of hisfriend Kabilovitsch, the peculiar action of the strange man who hadtaken his place beneath the blanket, and the apparition of the one whowore the cap and cape which he thought he could not mistake. There hadalways been a mystery about Kabilovitsch's early life, which theirlong and close neighborly relations upon the mountain had not enabledhim to solve. The girl, he often thought, was of too light a build andtoo fair featured to be the child of the mountaineer. The storyKabilovitsch often told about the early death of the child's mother,Milosch's wife never heard without impatience and a shrug of theshoulders. Who was the child? Could there be any plot to carry heraway among persons who knew the secret of her birth? Milosch couldreach one definite conclusion about the matter, and that was that heought to guard the child just now. So, with senses made alert bysuspicion, he heard the soft footfall of Hunyades through thecrust-broken snow; and though with head averted, noted his stealthyapproach. The caution observed by the stranger made Milosch feelcertain of the intended treachery. Loosening the short sheath-knife,which hung by the ring in its bone handle from his girdle, he graspedit tightly, and with a sudden bound faced the intruder.
"Your business, man?" said he, eyeing him as a hunter eyes a wolf toanticipate the spring of the brute, that the knife may enter histhroat before the fangs strike.
"A rude greeting to a neighbor, that," was the quiet reply.
"A fair enough greeting to one who wears a neighbor's fleece, andprowls by night about his flock. Stop! not a step nearer! or, by thesoul of Kabilovitsch, whom, for aught I know, you have murdered, Iwill send you to meet him!"
A motion of the stranger toward his weapon was anticipated by themountaineer, who gripped the intruder with the strength of a bear,pinioning his arms by his sides, and falling with him to the ground.In an instant more, however, the dagger point of his antagonist beganto penetrate Milosch's thigh. Clenching tighter to prevent a moredeadly thrust, he felt beneath his opponent's rough outer robe thehard corselet woven with links of iron--not the coarse fabric such aswas worn by common soldiers, but the lighter steel-tempered underwearof knights and nobles.
"You have murdered another better than yourself, damned villain, andhave stolen his shirt. But it shall not save you this time."
As he let out these words one by one and breath by breath, Miloschworked the knife into such a hold that he could press it into the backof his antagonist. Slowly but surely the stout point made its waybetween the hard links until the man's flesh quivered with the pain.Then Milosch hissed through his clenched teeth:--
"Who are you? If you speak not, you die. If you lie, let the devilshrive your black soul! for I'll send you to him on the knife point.Speak!"
"I am General Hunyades," replied the almost breathless man.
The words relieved him from the pressure of the knife, but not fromthe crunching hug of his captor.
"Prove it!" hissed Milosch. "I have heard that Hunyades has a scar onthe left side of the neck. Uncover your neck!"
Milosch released Hunyades' left hand sufficiently to allow him toreach upward. In an instant the leathern string which bound thebear-skin cape about his neck was broken, the lacings of a velvetjacket loosened, and the fingers of Milosch led over the roughenedsurface of the scarred skin.
The herdsman rose to his knees, and kissed the hand of the general.
"Strike thy dagger into me! for I have raised my hand against theLord's anointed," cried he in shame and fear.
"Nay, friend," said the chief; "the fault was mine, and yours shall bethe reward of the only man who ever conquered Hunyades. Your name, mygood fellow?"
"Milosch!"
"Milosch, the goatherd of the Pass? I have heard tell of yourstrength; how you could out-crunch a bear; I believe it. You have beenfaithful to your absent friend, as you have been severe with me."
"But what of my friend Kabilovitsch? You surely wear his gear," saidMilosch.
"Yes, I borrowed these of a passing stranger--I know not that he beKabilovitsch--with which I might pass disguised among the guards. Theowner of this cape and hood is keeping warm in a tent hard by until Ireturn. But whom have you here?"
"The lad is mine. The lass is my neighbor's. He calls her Morsinia, inhonor of your fair mother," replied Milosch.
"Then I must see her face. She should be fair with such a name."
As he raised the coarse-knit hood which closely wrapped her, a flickerof the dying fire-light illumined for an instant the features of thechild. The uncombed mass of golden hair made a natural pillow in whichlay a face unsurpassed in balance of proportion and delicacy of detailby any sculptor's art. Her forehead was high and full, but apparentlydiminished by the wealth of curling locks that nestled upon brow andtemples; her nose straight and thin, typically Greek; her lips firm,but arched, as with some abiding and happy dream; her skin, purestwhite, tinged with the glow of youthful health, as the snow on theBalkans under the first roseate gleam of the morning sun.
"A peasant's child?" asked the general. But without waiting for reply,continued, "No, by the cheek of Venus! It took more than onegeneration of noble culture, high thoughts and purest blood, to mouldsuch a face as that. She was not born in your neighbor's cot on themountains? Will you swear that she was? No? Then I will swear that shewas not. And the boy? Ah!" said he, scanning Constantine's face. "Iknow his stock. He is a sprig of the same rough thorn-tree that camenear to tearing me to pieces just now. But his face is gentler thanyours. Yet, it is a strong one; very bold; broad-thoughted;deep-souled; a sprig that may bear even better fruit than the oldone."
"Heaven grant it may!" said Milosch, fervently.
"Yes, if you will let me transplant it from these barren mountains tothe gardens of Buda and the banks of the Drave, it will get bettershelter than you can give it. The boy shall be my protege forto-night's adventure, if his father will enter my personal service.You see, you gave me so warm a welcome that I am loath to part companywith you, my good fellow."
"Heaven bless you, Sire!" replied Milosch; "but my heart will cling tothese cliffs until I know that my faithful wife and other boy are nolonger among them."
"I shall give orders that the camp be searched," promised Hunyades."If they live, and have not been carried away by the Turks, they musthave sought refuge somewhere in the host. Farewell! When you will,Hunyades shall stand the friend of Milosch."
The apparent old herdsman returned through the heart of the camp toheadquarters.
"Methinks, comrade, that you bandied words with a greater than youknew, when you teased the old goatherd awhile ago," said a sentinel,thrusting his thumb into the side of the spearman at the entrance tothe general's hut. "Do you note his mien as he comes yonder? Thatcrumpled old bear skin cannot hide his straight back; nor
those shoes,as big as Spanish galleons, break the firmness of his tread. If thegust of wind should lift his cape you would see at least a goldencross on his shoulders. You cannot hide a true soldier."
The bear-skin passed between the fluttering canvas without challenge.Hunyades made a playful salute to Kabilovitsch, who rose to meet him.
"I found your camp. I have looked into the face of your littledaughter."
"Mary save her!" said the old man with gratified look.
"I say I saw your daughter, your _daughter_, you know," said thegeneral again, quizzing Kabilovitsch with his eyes.
"Ay, my daughter! and the Virgin Mother never sent a fairer child,save Jesu himself, to prince or peasant."
"Come, now," said the general, "tell me, did the Holy Virgin send thischild to prince _or_ peasant?"
"Why?" said Kabilovitsch, "these horny hands should tell thee, Sire,that I was not royal born."
"But the girl may be, if you were not. Is she your child?"
"Yes, my child, if heaven ever sent one to man."
"But, tell me," probed the general, "how did heaven send you themaiden? Did the mother bring her, or did the angels drop her at yourdoor? For, if that girl be your child, heaven did not know you even bysight; since it put not a freckle of your dark skin upon her fairface, nor one of your bristles into her hair. The stars are notbegotten of storm-clouds; nor do I think she is your daughter."
To this the old man replied, more to himself than to his interrogator,"If she is not mine by gift of nature, she is mine by gift of Him whois above nature."
"I will not steal your secret," said Hunyades. "Her name has excitedmy interest in her and her heaven-given or heaven-lent father. Sheneeds better protection than you can give her in the camp. I will sendher to headquarters."
"I would gratefully put her under your protection for a few days,"said Kabilovitsch. "My duty takes me away from her for a while;dangerous duty, Sire, and if I should fall--"
"If Kabilovitsch falls, Hunyades will be as true father to the lass.Have you any special desire regarding her or yourself, my brave man?You have but to name it."
"But one, Sire," replied Kabilovitsch. "That I may see her safelyconditioned at once. For it may be that before the day dawns I shallbe summoned. I serve a cause as mysterious as the Providence whichwatches over it."
"An Albanian mystery? They are generally as inscrutable as a thundercloud; but are revealed when its lightning strikes!" replied Hunyades,dismissing the old man, accompanied by two guards, who werecommissioned to obey implicitly any orders the herdsman might giveregarding the party of refugees by his camp-fire.
The Captain of the Janizaries Page 6
