The Captain of the Janizaries

by James M. Ludlow

  CHAPTER XXXIV.

  The day following the three ruffians lingered about the site of theold Hippodrome--through the open space of which the citizens passed ingoing from one part of the city to another. Toward evening a stone wasthrown against the bronze-sheathed column, or walled pyramid, whichstill held some of the great plates that in the palmy days ofByzantium made it one of the wonders of the city. It was the signalfor alertness. A short-bodied, long-armed, red-haired man, dressed inthe white kilt and gold-embroidered jacket of a citizen, saunteredleisurely through the Hippodrome. He measured with his eye the spacewhich once blazed with the splendor of fashion, when, beneath theimperial eye of a Justinian or Theodosius, the horses of Araby andThracia ran, and the factions of "the Blues" and "the Greens" shouted,and the whirling wheels of the golden chariots sprinkled the dust uponthe multitudes.

  The man paused to gaze at the bronze column of three intertwinedserpents, with silver-crested heads, which was believed to have beenbrought from the temple at Delphi to his new city by the greatConstantine. He stood reverently before the tall Egyptian obelisk ofrose-granite, whose light red glowed with deeper hue in the easternflush of the twilight sky; puzzled over its vertical lines ofhieroglyphs which thirty centuries had not obliterated, and studiedthe figures on its marble base, representing the machines used by theengineers of Theodosius in hoisting the great monolith to its place,a thousand years ago. Broken statues--the spoil of conquered cities ingenerations of Greek prowess which shamed the supineness of thepresent, stood or lay about the grand pillar of porphyry, which wasonce surmounted by the statue of Apollo wrought by Phidias.

  "Shame for such neglect!" muttered the man. "A people that cannot keepits art from cracking to pieces with age, cannot long keep the oldempire of the Caesars."

  The narrow street to the north of the Hippodrome square shut out theremnant of daylight as the man turned into it. His attention was drawnby the groaning of some poor outcast crouching in the dark shadow ofan angle in the wall. As he stooped to inspect this object a stunningblow fell upon his head. Two stalwart men instantly pinioned his arms.They rolled his helpless body a few yards, and carried or slid it downa flight of steps into a dark cavern, whose sides echoed theirfootfalls and whispers, as if it were the place of the last Judgmentwhere the secrets of life are all to be proclaimed. Reaching thebottom, one of the men produced a light. The glare seemed to excavatea hollow sphere out of the thick darkness, but revealed nothing,except the spectral flash of the bats flitting around the heads of theintruders, and the damp earthen floor upon which the men had throwntheir victim. At length great forms rose through the gloom, like thetrunks of a forest. The water of a subterranean lake gleamed from neartheir feet, but its smooth black sheen was soon lost in the darkness.A small boat, or raft, was near, into which the man was lifted; oneof the ruffians sitting on his feet, the other by his head, while thethird propelled the craft by pushing against great granite pillarsbetween which they passed. After going some distance the boat groundits bottom against a mass of fallen masonry and dirt, which made asort of island, perhaps twenty feet across. Here they landed, anddragged their victim.

  "What would you have with me?" said the prostrate man.

  "It is enough that we have you," said Pedro, in broken Greek. "We wantnothing more; not even to keep your miserable carcass, since we havealready got our pay for burying it. I'll be your father-confessor andshrive you. If you like the Latin--Absolvo te! and away go your sinsas easily as I can strip this gold-laced jacket off your back. Or ifyou prefer the Greek--By the horns of Nebuchadnezzar, I've forgottenthe priestly words! But I'll shrive you all the same without the holymumble. And if you want to pray a bit yourself, why fold your feet infront of your nose and kneel on your back."

  "Why do you kill me?" said the man. "I am nothing to you."

  "Nothing to us, but something to him who has hired us. As honest menwe must do what we were paid to do."

  "Unless I can pay you more," said the man, instantly taking a hopefulhint.

  "Do you wear the belt of Phranza, that you think you can pay so much?"replied one of the ruffians, feeling about the person of the helplessman.

  "What I have I give--a hundred ducats."

  "A hundred! Are you love-crossed that you value life so little? You'llskin well, my gentle lambkin; and as you are half tanned already, wewill sell your hide to the buskin maker for almost that sum; and yourfat (feeling his ribs) will grease a hundred galley masts. A thousandducats is your value, you Albanian imp!"

  "I do not possess so much," said the victim.

  "But your sister does," said the ruffian; and not noting the surprisedlook of the man, continued: "We have arranged for that. Your life isworth to us just one thousand ducats of gold. Sign this!" producing abit of paper on which was something written.

  "I cannot read it in this light. You read it. I may trust such honestfellows as you are."

  The man read--"To my sister, the Albanian, at the house of Phranza. Iam in danger from which I can escape only if you will give the bearerone thousand ducats. Speak not to any one of it, or my life isforfeit. That you may know this is genuine the bearer will show you myring and a clip of my hair."

  "Give me your ring; and, comrade, warm the wax to seal the letter,"said Giovan.

  "But I am not the man you seek," said the victim.

  "And who in the devil's name are you then?"

  "A mere stranger."

  "Prove it!"

  "Take the ring, and the lady will not recognize it."

  "We shall see," said the ruffian, "but we will take the hundredducats now to pay for any trouble you have put us to."

  His belt was stripped off, and its golden contents ripped out. Thevictim was untied, first having been completely disarmed. The threemen entering the boat, pushed off in the direction from which they hadentered.

  The island prisoner watched the receding light as it flashed its longrays on the water, illumined the arches of the roof, and lit thecrouching figures in the boat. The multiplying pillars became like asolid wall as the light receded, until at length the darkness wascomplete. The sound of the boat as it scratched against the stone atthe landing, gave place to the most oppressive silence.

  To attempt escape in the direction of the entrance would be folly. Ifhe could find his way his captors would doubtless be on guard andeasily overpower him, as he would have to wade or swim. But to remainwhere he was would be as hazardous, for the wretches would not riskexposure for the sake of the hundred ducats they had secured; butwould probably return and put him out of the way of witnessing againstthem.

  As he meditated, a low rumble like distant thunder, ran along thearches. "Some passing vehicle in the city above," he concluded.

  A light drip, as of a bat's wing touching the water! Another! andanother! "Strange that they should be so regular!" thought the man."There must be some inlet: I will explore."

  He walked cautiously into the water in the direction of the sound.Soon he was beyond his depth; but, being an expert swimmer, kept on;his outstretched arms answering as antennae of some huge water-spider,and guarding him from collision with the pillars.

  The dripping sound became louder. Now it was just above his head. Hefelt his way with his hands until it became evident that he was at theend or side of the subterranean lake. But the shore was steep; indeed,a wall. Fixing his fingers into the crevices between the stones, hewas able to raise himself half out of the water. Reaching up with onehand he felt the curved edge of a viaduct, by which the dark lake wasevidently fed, or had been in earlier days. But, bah! The water nowtrickling through it was foul. The spring had been stopped, and theviaduct become a sewer; fed doubtless through its rents with thesoakage of the city.

  But might there not be an opening into the upper air? If not, a greathuman mole--especially if, to blind scratching power, he adds theskill of one trained in the art of engineering--can possibly make anopening.

  The prisoner climbed into the viaduct. It was large enough to allowhim to cra
wl a short distance. A faint glimmer of light proved thecorrectness of his surmise that it was connected with the surface. Butfallen stones blocked his way. As he lay planning with fingers andbrain for his further progress, voices sounded from the reservoir.They were those of two of the cut-throats returning. He pushed himselfback to the opening. His captors had missed him at the island. Ifthey knew of this sluice, or chanced to come upon it in their search,he was lost in his present position; for a pair of bare heels was theonly weapon he could show against their sharp daggers. He let himselfdown into the water, and swam silently away. The light, however, fromhis captors' lamp came nearer.

  "Hist!" said one. "He is yonder; perhaps by the devil's window."

  The boat pushed directly toward the viaduct he had left.

  While they explored the opening, which might well be called the windowinto the blackness of darkness of the nether world, their victim swamrapidly, keeping always in the shadow of the great pillars. But theboat was upon his track again.

  The fugitive now made a fortunate discovery. Several feet below thesurface of the water the base of each pillar projected far enough forstanding room. This base had probably marked the height to which thewater was originally allowed to rise. By standing upon one of theseprojections, he was able to move round the pillar, so as to keep itshuge block between himself and his pursuers. Thus they passed him. Bythe light in the boat he could discern the ground or shore near whichwas the entrance.

  Returning to coast the other side of the cavern, they had passed closeby him, when, his foot slipping, he was projected into the water. Thewretches hailed with grim joy the splash, and turned the boat in thedirection of the noise. But, dropping beneath the surface, the manswam to a pillar near by, from which he watched their baffled circuitof his former retreat.

  This chase could not be kept up endlessly. Plunging again under thewater, he swam directly to the boat. Rising suddenly, he grasped itsside with main weight and overturned it. The cries of the men and thesplashing of the boat echoed a hundred times among the arches; whilethe hissing oil of the open lamp, which, poured on the surface of thewater, blazed for a moment, made as near a representation ofpandemonium as this world ever affords, except in the brain of thedemented.

  Though the captive had endeavored to keep his bearings, and had notlost for an instant his presence of mind, the swirling of the boat haddestroyed all impression of the direction he should take. Heremembered that on one of the pillars the projecting base was broken.It was that on which he had stood when he caught a glimpse of theground near the entrance. If he could find that pillar again he couldtake his bearings as readily as if a star guided him. Several pillarswere tried before the talismanic one was discovered. Feeling thebroken place, and recalling the way in which he stood upon the narrowledge when he saw the entrance, he took his course accordingly, andswam on.

  One of his pursuers had evidently found a lodgment somewhere, and wascalling lustily to his comrade for help. But there came back no answerto his call.

  On went the swimmer until the light of the outer world gleamed throughthe crevice of the door, twenty or thirty feet above him, and hecrawled upon the ground.

  Squeezing the water from his garments, he climbed the stairway, and,opening the heavy and worm-eaten doors, peered out. The street wascrowded with passers; for another day had come since his entrance tothe old reservoir. In his half naked and bedrabbled condition hehesitated to make his exit, and returned to the bottom of the stairs.A hand on the door above made him leap to one side.

  Giovan entered. Peering intensely into the shadows, he descended thesteps. Pausing a moment he whistled through his teeth. There was noresponse. He whistled louder on his fingers. A shout came back.

  "Help! Giovan--help!"

  Giovan's dagger protruded from his belt. Another's hand suddenly drewit, and, before he had recovered from his surprise, it entered hisneck to the haft. The Italian's short breeches, velveteen jacket andskull cap were made to take the place of the remnant of the prisoner'sonce most reputable wardrobe, and he sallied forth.