CHAPTER LIII.
The martial pride of the Ottoman never made a more imposingdemonstration than when his armies deployed upon the plain ofPharsalia[107] in Thessaly, and threatened the southern frontier ofAlbania. Nor had Jove, who, according to the mythologic conception,held his court upon the summit of the not distant Olympus--looked downupon such a display of earthly power since, fifteen centuries before,the armies of Pompey and Caesar there contended for the domination ofthe Roman world. For Mahomet II. had sworn his mightiest oath, that,by one blow, he would now sweep all the Arnaout rebels into the sea;and that the waves of the Adriatic over against Italy, and those ofthe Mediterranean which washed the Greek peninsula, and the Euxinethat stayed the steps of the Muscovite, should sing with theirconfluent waves the glories of the European Empire of the Ottomanwhich lay between them.
The menace to Scanderbeg's domain was not chiefly in the numbers ofmen whom the redoubtable Isaac Pasha now commanded in the name of theSultan; but in the fact that the mighty host was accompanied by Amesa,the new "King of Albania."
The defection of the Voivode had sent consternation through the heartsof the patriots. Their leaders looked with suspicion into oneanother's faces as they gathered in council; for no one knew but thathis comrade was in secret league with the enemy. Wearied with trials,the soldiers whispered in the camps that Amesa was a Castriot as wellas Scanderbeg. Italians of rank, who had loaned their swords to thegreat chieftain, were returning to their homes, saying that it was notworth while to risk their lives and fortunes in defending a people whowere no longer agreed in defending themselves. Scanderbeg, apparentlyunwilling or unable to cope with this double danger,--the power of theOttoman without, and a civil war within his land--retired toLyssa,[108] far away to the north.
The Turks determined to inaugurate their final conquest, by the formalcoronation of their ally, so that, heralded by King Amesa'sproclamations, they might advance more readily to the occupation ofthe land. The day was set for the ceremony of the royal investiture.As their scouts, ranging far and wide, reported no enemy to be near,the attention of the army was given to preparation for the splendidpageants, the very story of which should awe the simple peasantpopulation into submission, or seduce their hearts with the hope ofhaving so magnificent a patron.
The day before that appointed for this glorious dawn of the newroyalty, was one of intense heat, in the middle of July. The snows hadmelted even from the summit of the Thessalian Olympus, though its barepinnacle yonder pierced the sky nearly ten thousand feet above thesea. Armor was heaped in the tents. Horses unsaddled were gathered instockades, or tethered far out on the glassy plain. Soldiersstretched themselves under the shadow of the trees, or wandered ingroups through the deserted gardens and orchards of the neighboringcountry, feasting upon the early ripened fruits. Only the eagles thatcircled the air high above the vast encampment, or perched upon thecrags of distant hills, seemed to have any alarm; for now and thenthey darted off with a shrill cry.
But an eye, like that of a mysterious retributive Providence, waspeering through the thicket that crested a high hill. Scanderbeg,presumed to be far away, had studied the plain long and intently;when, turning to Constantine, who was at his side, he said:
"Now plan me a raid through that flock of silly sheep. Where would youstrike, my boy?"
Constantine replied, "There is but one point at which we could enterthe plain,--through yonder depression. The hills on either side wouldconceal the advance until well upon them. Besides, the narrowness ofthe valley, and the growth of trees would prevent their meeting uswith more than man for man."
Scanderbeg shook his head.
"The Turks know that place invites attack as well as we do, and haveranged so as to prevent surprise there. But yonder line of trees andcopse leads almost to the centre of their camp."
"But it is exposed to view on either side," replied Constantine.
"So much the better," said Castriot, "and therefore it is not guardedeven in Isaac Pasha's thought. It would take longer after the alarm torange against us there than in the ravine. Their cavalry is all onthis side the trees. They could not cut through the bushes before wewere by the horse-tails yonder, there by the Pasha's tent."
"But is it not too open?" said Constantine, almost incredulous.
"Yes, at any other time than this, when the Turks are not dreaming ofour being within a dozen leagues of them. The very boldness of such anattack as this at high noon-tide will be better for us than anyscheming. And, if I mistake not, and our beasts are not too jaded bythe long march, we shall have the souls out of a thousand or so of theTurks before they can get their bodies into armor. And I give to you,my boy, the care of our nephew, Amesa. Be diverted by no side play,but cut your way straight to him. If possible, spare his life, but hemust never get a crown upon his head."
As silently as the summer's fleecy clouds gather into the storm, theband of patriots, summoned from their various quarters, gatheredbehind the spur of the hill. The Turks were startled as with a suddenrising tempest. Beys and Pashas and Agas had scarcely emerged fromtheir tents, when five thousand Albanian cavalrymen were alreadyturning the line of the woods. On they came with the celerity of aflock of birds just skimming the ground. The sentry flew as the leavesbefore the wind. The very multitude of the Turks, driven toward thecentre, but fed the dripping swords of the assailants. Among the tentswound the compact array of Albanian riders, like a huge serpent. Onand on it rolled, scarcely pausing to repel attack. Dividing, onepart crushed the headquarters of Isaac, while the other wrapped in itscrunching folds the splendid camp of Amesa.
Bravely did this young Absalom defend his unfledged royalty.Surrounded by a group of Albanian renegades like himself, he foughtdesperately, well knowing the dire vengeance which should follow hiscapture. But one by one they fell. Amesa remained almost alone, as yetunharmed. The captain of the Albanian troops commanded a halt, and,dismounting, he demanded Amesa's surrender.
"To none but a Castriot will a Castriot surrender!" cried theinfuriate man, making a lunge at the challenger. The thrust wasavoided.
"You shall surrender to another," cried the Albanian officer. "Standback, men, he shall yield to me alone."
"Who are you?" growled the challenged man.
"One who has the right to avenge the wrong done to Mara de Streeses,"was the reply.
Quick as a panther Amesa leaped upon him. But the tremendous blow heaimed, might as well have been delivered against a rock, as againstthe sword of Constantine. The effort threw him off his balance; andbefore he could recover himself, the tremendous slash of his opponent,though warded, brought him to the ground. In an instant Constantine'sknee was upon his breast, and his sword at his throat.
"Do you surrender?"
"Yes!" groaned the helpless man.
He was instantly disarmed, and bound by the girth to a horse.
FOOTNOTES:
[107] Vide Knowles, History of the Turks, and Albanian Chronicles.
[108] Modern Alessio.
The Captain of the Janizaries Page 53
