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The Captain of the Janizaries

Page 52

by James M. Ludlow


  CHAPTER LII.

  After the defeat of Moses as a Turkish leader, and his return to hispatriotic allegiance, there was a lull in active hostilities betweenthe two powers. Amesa, like other of the prominent voivodes inScanderbeg's army, took the occasion offered to look after his ownestates. He had added somewhat to his local importance by marrying thedaughter of a neighboring land-owner. But neither conjugal delights,nor the additional acres his marriage brought him, covered hisambition. His envy of Castriot had deepened into inveterate hatred.

  The Voivode sat alone in the great dining hall of his castle. It waslate in the night. As the blazing logs at one end of the room castalternately their glare and shadows around, the rude furniture seemedto be thrown into a witching dance. Helmets and corselets gleamedbravely from their pegs, suggesting that they were animated by heroicsouls. The great bear-skin, with its enormous head, lying at theVoivode's feet, crouched in readiness to receive the lunge of theboar's tusks which threatened it from the corner. Pikes, spears, bowsand broad-mouthed arquebuses were ranged about, as if to defend theirowner, should any demon inspire these lifeless forms for suddenassault upon him.

  Amesa had been sitting upon a low seat between the fire and ahalf-drained tankard of home-brewed liquor, his brows knit with theconcentration of his thoughts.

  A slight sound without arrested his attention.

  "Drakul is late, but is coming at last. If only he has brought me thered forelock of that fellow who used to be always crossing my track,and has now come back to Albania!" he said, in a tone of musing, butintended to be heard by the delinquent as the great oaken door creakedbehind him. Raising his eyes, but not turning his head to look, Amesachanged his soliloquy into a volley of oaths at the comer.

  "I thought your name-sake, Drakul, had run off with you, you lazyimp.[106] What kept you?"

  "A long journey," was the reply.

  Amesa started to his feet, for the voice was not that of Drakul. Hefaced one whose appearance was not the less startling because it wasfamiliar.

  "I have brought the red forelock myself," said the visitor.

  Amesa stared stupidly an instant, then reached toward his weapon lyingupon the table near.

  "Stop!" said the man, laying the flat side of his sword across theVoivode's arm before he could grasp his yataghan.

  "How dare you intrude yourself unbidden here!" cried the enragedAmesa.

  "It required no daring," was the cool reply, "for I am the stronger."

  "Help! Help!" shouted the voivode, as he realized that he would not bepermitted to reach his weapon.

  The door swung, and a band of strange men stood in the opening.

  "I feared, noble Amesa," said the intruder, "that I should not be awelcome guest, and so brought with me a party of friends to help me togood cheer while under your roof. You need not disturb your servantsto help you, for, if they should hear, they could not obey, as theyare all safely guarded in their quarters. If they should come out theymight be harmed. Let them rest. Retire, men! You recognize me, LordAmesa?"

  "Ay. You are Arnaud's whelp," sneered the entrapped man.

  "More gentle words would befit the courtesy of my host," was the quietreply. "But you are as much mistaken as when you took the simplewitted Elissa on my commendation. Do not respond, Sire! In your heatyou might say that which pride would prevent your recalling. I am aMoslem soldier, and you are my prisoner; as secure as if you were inConstantinople." The visitor threw off the Albanian cape, andrevealed the elegantly wrought jacket of the Janizary Aga.

  "And what would you have of me? Is there nothing that can satisfy youless than my life?" asked Amesa.

  "My noble Amesa," said Ballaban Aga, taking a seat and motioning theVoivode to another. "Years ago I gave you my word in honor that Iwould serve you against Scanderbeg. I have come to redeem that pledge,and you must help me."

  "How can that be, if you are an officer of the Moslems?" asked Amesa,taking the seat, and adopting the low tone of the other; for thesewords had excited in him all his cupidity, and stirred his naturalsecretiveness and habit of sinister dealing. His eyes ceased to glarelike a tiger's when at bay; they shone now like a snake's.

  "Amesa must enter the service of the Padishah."

  "Impossible!" cried he; but in a tone that indicated, not indignantrejection of the proposition; rather doubt of its practicability.

  "But first you must raise here in Albania the standard of revoltagainst Scanderbeg, claiming the title of king of Epirus and theDibrias for yourself. Scanderbeg's sword will, of course, compel thenext step--your safety in the Turkish camp. The Padishah will thenbecome your patron, offering to withdraw his armies and restore theancient liberties of the country, with the solitary limitation thatyou shall acknowledge the suzerainty of the Sultan. The revenues youmay collect shall remain in your possession for the strengthening ofyour local power. The defection of Moses Goleme well nigh destroyedthe leadership of Scanderbeg--yours will complete the work. Yet itwill not be defection; rather, as Moses Goleme regarded it, the truestservice of your country, because the only service that ispracticable."

  "But I cannot thus break with the patriot leaders," said Amesa,apparently having felt a real touch of honor.

  "It must be," replied the Aga. "You cannot longer remain as you are,even if you would. You, Sire, have been guilty of some great crime.Nay, do not deny it! Nor need you take time to give expression to anywrath you may feel on being plainly accused of it," continuedBallaban, silencing Amesa more effectively by the straight look intohis eyes than by his words. "My moments here are too few to talk aboutthe matter, and you should have exhausted any feeling you may have hadin private penitence heretofore, rather than reserve it until anotherperson lays it to your charge. But the point is this:--Scanderbeg isaware of your crime, and awaits only the opportune moment to punishyou as it deserves."

  "How do you know that?" said Amesa, the bright gleam of his eyechanging to a stony stare, as the color failed from his face, and heleaned back in ghastly consternation.

  "It is enough that I know it. The Janizaries have not roamed theseAlbanian hills for twelve years without finding out the secrets of thecountry. The holes in the ground are our ears, and the very owls spyfor us through the dark. But enough of words. Sign this, and set to ityour seal!"

  Ballaban presented a parchment, offering formally, in the name of theSultan, the government of Albania to Amesa, on the condition set forthabove.

  "I would consider the"--began Amesa; but he was cut short byBallaban--

  "No! sign instantly! I have done for you all the considering that isnecessary, and must be gone."

  "But," began Amesa again, "so important a matter--"

  "Sign instantly!" repeated Ballaban; and, pointing to the door wherethe soldiers stood waiting their orders--"or neither Amesa nor hiscastle will exist until the day breaks."

  The baffled man took from a niche in the wall a horn of thickened ink,and, with the wooden pen, made his signature, and pressed the ancientseal of the De Streeses against the ball of softened wax attached toit.

  "This will serve to keep you true: for if by the next fulness of themoon Amesa's standard be not raised against Scanderbeg's, this, asevidence of your treason, shall be read in all your Albanian camps,"said Ballaban, placing the document in his bosom. "And should you needto confer with your new friends, your faithful Drakul may inquire atour lines for Ballaban Badera, Aga of the Janizaries."

  With a low salam he withdrew. A few muffled orders, a shuffling offeet, and the castle was as quiet as the stars that looked down uponit.

  FOOTNOTES:

  [105] The firman of Sultan Mahomet was never revoked, and from histime until the extinction of the order of Janizaries by SultanMahmoud, in 1834, the Padishah always appointed the Chief Aga.

  [106] The word Drakul signifies in Servian "the Devil."

 

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