CHAPTER LIV.
The corps of Janizaries had been quartered at some distance from themain body of the Turks. Their new Aga comprehended at once thesignificance of the turmoil in the camp, and hastened to the defence.Though he moved rapidly, and with a well conceived plan of confrontingthe enemy, yet, most of his troops being foot-soldiers, he was unableto confront the swift-riding squadrons of Scanderbeg. These assailantswithdrew from the field, but only to return again and again upon thepanic stricken Turks, whose fears had magnified the numbers of theirfoes into scores of thousands. So rapidly did assault follow assault,and from such diverse quarters, that the Moslem fright imagined oneattack was headed by the terrible Ivan Beg with his savageMontenegrins, and another by Hunyades, a report of whose alliance withScanderbeg had reached the camps before the battle. Indeed the rumbleof a coming thunder storm was interpreted into the clamor and tread ofunknown myriads ready to burst through the mountains. Never did a moreinsane panic steal away the courage of soldiers and the judgment ofgenerals. Late in the day the plain of Pharsalia was the scene of onevast wreck. Overturned tents displayed immense stores of burnishedarms and vestments, provisions of need and luxury, standards for thefield and banners for the pageant; and everywhere strewn amid thisdebris of pomp and pride the half-armored bodies of the slaughteredTurks. In narrow mountain valleys the freshet following the suddentempest, never changed the bloom of the summer gardens morecompletely, than this panic, following Scanderbeg's raid, changed thesplendid camp of the morning into the desolation upon which thesetting sun cast, as a fitting omen, its red rays. Indeed, we canconceive no similitude by which to express the contrast better thanthat of Amesa himself, in the morning adorned in the splendor of hisroyal expectation, and at night lying bound with ropes at the feet ofScanderbeg.
The grand old chieftain looked at the renegade for a moment with pityand scorn; then turned away, saying,--
"Let him lie there until Captain Constantine, to whom he belongs,shall come."
But Constantine came not. Though the main body of the Turks had takento precipitate flight, the Janizaries had managed, by their unbrokenand orderly retreat, to cover the rear, and prevent pursuit byScanderbeg. Ballaban had reached the group engaged in the capture ofAmesa, and almost rescued him. This would have been accomplished hadnot Constantine and a handful of his company made a living wallbetween the Janizaries and those who were leading away the miserableman. Ballaban, feeling the responsibility of saving him whom he hadled into this shameful misfortune, pressed to the very front.
"By the sword of the Prophet! the fellow fights bravely," heexclaimed, as he watched Constantine, baffling a half dozenJanizaries who were pressing upon him.
"Back, men! I would measure my arm against his," he cried, as he laidhis sword against that of his unknown antagonist.
Both were in complete armor, their faces concealed by the closedhelmets. The soldiers stood as eager spectators of the masterly swordplay. The two men seemed evenly matched,--the same in stature andbuild. There was, too, a surprising similarity in movement--the verytactics of the Janizary in thrust and parry being repeated by theAlbanian; their swords now flashing like interlacing flames; the sharpring as the Albanian smote upon the polished metal of his antagonist'sarmor, answered by the duller thud as the Janizary's blow fell uponthe thick leather which encased the panoply of his opponent. Then bothstood as if posing for the sculptor; their sword points crossing;their eyes glaring beneath the visors; the slightest movement of amuscle anticipated by either--then again the crash.
But Constantine was exhausted by his previous engagement with Amesa.In an unlucky moment the sword turned in his hand. The steadiness ofthe grip was lost. He managed to ward the blow which the Agadelivered; but, foreseeing that he could not recover his grasp soonenough to return it, and that his opponent was thrown slightly off hisperfect poise by his exertion, he dropped his sword, and closed withhim. They fell to the ground; but the Aga, more alert at the instant,was uppermost, and his dagger first in position for the fatal cut.
"I can not slay so valiant a man as you," said Ballaban. "Yousurrender?"
"I must," was the response. As they rose, Ballaban looked a momentupon the vanquished, and said,
"I would know the name of my worthy antagonist, for worthier I neverfound. Scanderbeg himself could not have done better. But I had theadvantage of being in better wind at the start, or, Allah knows, I hadfared hard."
"It is enough that I am your prisoner," said Constantine, "and that Ihave detained my conqueror long enough to prevent the recapture ofthat Albanian traitor, Amesa. You can have me willingly, now that youcannot have him."
The Albanian threw up his visor. Ballaban stared at the face. It wasas familiar as his own which he saw daily in the polished brassmirror. The Janizaries stared with almost equal amazement.
"No wonder he fought so well, Aga!" said one, "for he is thy otherself."
"Let him be brought to our headquarters when we halt," said Ballaban,remounting his horse, and dashing away to another part of the field.
The Captain of the Janizaries Page 54
