CHAPTER LVII.
The news reached Morsinia at Croia long before the return of the army.She took little joy in the hearty and generous acclaim that welcomedher to her inheritance. She had no vanity to be stimulated by thepopular stories which associated her beauty with her wealth. Herthoughts seemed to be palled with heaviness, rather than canopied bythe bright prospects which fortune had spread for her.
When Castriot officially announced to her the restoration of theDeStreeses' property, she refused to enter upon her estates, whichwere to come to her through the ceremony of blood in the execution ofher enemy.
"No! Let them be confiscate to the State. I cheerfully surrender theirrevenues for Albania. I ask nothing more than to be the instrument ofso aiding our noble cause and its noble leader," said she.
"Albania will insist that you shall obtain your right. From voivode tolowest peasant, the people will be content only as the daughter ofDeStreeses graces his ancient castle."
"But," responded she, "I shall never enter its doors over the body ofmy enemy. May not some other fate be his?"
"Law should be sacred," said Castriot.
"But is it not a law of Albania that even a murderer need not beexecuted if all the family of his victim unite in his behalf, and hepay the Krwnina?[110] Am I not all the family of DeStreeses? Let thenthe estates be the Krwnina."
"That cannot be," replied Castriot. "The law requires the price ofblood to be paid by the murderer, and the estates belong not to Amesa.Besides, Albania will be better served by your occupation of thecastle, reviving its ancient prestige, and proclaiming thus that thereign of justice has been restored in our land."
"But let justice be mingled with mercy," said Morsinia.
"Nay, the mercy would dilute the quality of the justice."
"Can there be no mitigation of our cousin Amesa's fate, which shallnot prejudice the right?" asked the fair intercessor. "If Jesu prayedto his Father that His murderers might be forgiven, may not I pleadthat my father, the father of his country, shall be gracious to himwho has wronged me?"
Castriot was absorbed in deep thought. At length he replied:
"Ah, how little we men, schooled to revenge and bloodshed, know whatjustice is, and what mercy is, as these sentiments move in the heartof the Eternal! Your pure soul, my child, has closer kinship withheaven than ours. I fear to deny your request, lest I should offendthat mysterious Spirit which has seemed to counsel me since, in theland of the Moslems, I swore to return to my Christian faith; andwhich, in my prayers and dreams, has been strangely associated withyou. In all that is right and good your conscience shall still inspiremine: for you are my good angel. Amesa's life shall be spared. But nobreath of his must so much as taint the air of Albania. I am summonedby my old ally, Ferdinand of Naples, to assist in driving the Frenchfrom his domains. Amesa shall go with me, and be kept in custody amongstrangers. But it must be proclaimed from the citadel of Croia thathis life is restored him by the daughter of Musache de Streeses.
"And yet, my dear child," continued he, "in these rude times youcannot dwell alone in the castle. You need a protector who is not onlywise and brave, and loyal to Albania, but loyal to you. My dutieselsewhere will prevent my rendering that service. ColonelKabilovitsch's age is stealing the alertness from his energies. OurConstantine--Ah! Does the blush tell that I am right?" He took herhand, as he asked: "May I exercise the father's privilege, accordingto our Albanian custom, and put this hand into Constantine's, to keepand to defend?"
Morsinia replied frankly. "Since, Sire, I may not give my estates tomy country, bestow them upon whom you will; and my hand must go tohim, who, since we were children, has held my heart."
The following day, as the sun gilded the walls of Croia with hissetting rays, an immense concourse of soldiers and peasants gatheredwithin the citadel court. The executioner led the traitor, followed bya priest, out upon the bastion. A trumpet sounded, and the silencewhich followed its dying note was broken by the voice of the crier,who announced that, in the name of God and the sovereign people, andby the ordaining of George, Duke of Albania, the decree of justiceshould be executed upon the Voivode Amesa. Then followed the record ofhis crimes, together with the declaration that his appearance in armsamong the enemy, having been, according to his declaration, nottreason against his country, but rebellion against the militarychieftaincy of Duke George, was by the grace of that high officialforgiven; and further that the sentence of death for his foul murderof Musache De Streeses and his wife Mara Cernoviche, was, through theintercession of Mara, sole survivor of that ancient house, and by theauthority of Duke George, commuted to perpetual banishment from therealm, in such place and condition as seemed best to the Duke for thesecurity of the land.
The people stood in amazement as they listened. The relief from thehorror of the anticipated spectacle, when the head of the formerfavorite should be held up by the executioner, led them to acceptcomplacently this turn in affairs, even though their judgment did notcommend it. In a few moments the cry rose, "Live Duke George! ACastriot forever!" Soon it changed to wilder enthusiasm, "Long liveMara De Streeses!" This storm of applause could not be stilled untilMorsinia permitted herself to be led by Castriot to the edge of thebattlement.
As the sun was setting, the huge mass of the citadel rose like amighty altar from the bosom of the gloom which had already settledabout its base. Slowly the shadow had climbed its side, crowding thelast bright ray until it vanished from the top of the parapet. It wasat this instant that Morsinia appeared. The citadel beneath her wassombre as the coming night which enwrapped it, but her form wasradiant in the lingering splendor of the departing day. As she raisedher hand in response to the grateful clamor of the people, she seemedthe impersonation of a heavenly benediction. The multitude gazed inreverent silence for a moment. Then, as the sun dropped behind thewestern hill, veiling the glory of this apparition, they made the verysky resound with their shouts; and in the quick gathering darknesswent their ways.
A few weeks later, the castle of De Streeses was decked with banners,whose bright colors rivalled the late autumnal hues of the forest fromthe midst of which it rose. Multitudes of people all day long throngedthe paths leading up to it from the valleys around. Gorgeously arrayedvoivodes, accompanied by their suites, made the ravines resound withtheir rattling armor; and bands of peasants, in cheap but gaudyfinery, threaded through the by paths. Those who possessed tentsbrought them. Others, upon their arrival in the proximity of thecastle, erected booths and festooned them with vines, which theadvancing season had painted fiery red or burst into gray featheryplumes. From cleared places near the castle walls rose huge spirals ofsmoke, as oxen and sheep, quartered or entire, were being roasted, tofeed the multitude of guests; while great casks of foaming beer andruddy sparkling wine excited and slaked their thirst. The recentdefeat of the Turks had led to the withdrawal of their armies, atleast until winter should have passed; and the people of the northerncountry gave themselves up to the double celebration of the well-wonpeace and the nuptials of Mara De Streeses.
Within the castle the great and the dignified of the land abandonedthemselves to equal freedom with the peasants, in the enjoyment ofgames, and the observance of simple and fantastic national customs.Morsinia and Constantine kissed again through the ivy wreath, as inthe days of childhood. The new matron's distaff touched the oakenwalls of the great dining hall; and her hand spread the table withbread and wine and water, in formal assumption of her office ashousewife. When she undressed and dressed again the babe, borrowedfrom a neighboring cottage, she received sundry scoldings and manysaws of nursery advice from a group of peasant mothers. The happycouple were almost buried beneath the buckets of grain, which some ofthe guests poured over them, as they wished them all the blessings ofthe soil. When they approached the fire place they were showered withsparks, as some one struck the huge glowing log and invoked for themthe possession of herds and flocks and friends as many as thefireflecks that flew.
Gifts were offered: those of
the poor and rich being received withequal grace;--a rare breed of domestic fowls following a case ofcutlery from Toledo in Spain; and a necklace of pearls preceding ahound trained by some skillful hunter. On opening the casket whichCastriot presented, as he kissed the golden cluster upon the foreheadof the bride, there was found within a cap of sparkling gems, such asis worn by oriental brides, a parchment commissioning Constantine as avoivode in the Albanian service, with governor's command of the Skadarcountry.
The blessing of the priest was supplemented by those of the old men,which were put in form of prophecies. Kabilovitsch inclosed the happycouple in outstretched arms, and gazing long into their faces, said:
"As on that night at the foot of the Balkans I wrapped you, mychildren, in my blanket, and, in my absence, another greater than weknew, our generous Castriot, took my place to watch over you; so now,as soon I must leave you forever, One greater than man knows, even ourCovenant God, shall be your guardian!"
A man, apparently decrepit with the weight of years, assumed theprivilege of a venerable stranger upon such occasions, and came toutter his prophecy. His head was covered with a close fitting furcap, which concealed his brow to the eyes. Straggling gray locks hungpartly over his face and down his neck. As he spoke, Constantinestarted with evident amazement, which was, however, instantly checked.The bride seemed strangely fascinated. Kabilovitsch, who had been toomuch absorbed with his own thoughts to notice the stranger's approach,lifted his head quickly, and put his hand to his ear, as if catchingsome faint and distant sound. This was the old prophet's blessing--
"Allah ordains that these walls, consecrated to Justice, and inhabitedby Love, shall from this day be guarded by Peace. Even the Moslem'ssword shall be stayed from hence!"
He bowed to the floor, touching with his lips the spot where Morsiniahad stood. Before the guests could fully comprehend this scene, he wasgone. But lying on the floor where he had bowed was a silken case,elegantly wrought. Morsinia uttered a subdued, yet startled, cry asshe seized it. The gift seemed to have thrown a spell about her; for,with paled cheeks, she asked that she might retire to rest awhile inher chamber.
"A wjeshtize!" cried several, looking out from the door through whichthe man had passed.
"Heaven grant he has left no curse!" exclaimed others.
The silken case contained several crystals of atar of roses. In one ofthese, which was larger than the others, gleamed, instead of theperfumed drop, a splendid diamond. Upon a piece of parchment, as fineas the silk of which the case was made, Morsinia read--
"My pledge to give my life for thine shall be kept when need requires--Meanwhile know that the Padishah, the rightful Lord of Albania, has bestowed this castle upon Ballaban Badera, Aga of the Janizaries, who in turn bestows it upon Mara De Streeses--
"Signed, "MICHAEL."
* * * * *
Our story has covered a period of thirteen years. For eleven yearsmore the genius of Scanderbeg, which his perhaps too partialcountrymen used to compare to that of Alexander and Pyrrhus, withstoodthe whole power of the Ottoman Empire, directed against him by themost skilful generals of the age. Sinam and Assem, Jusem and Caraza,Seremet and the puissant Sultan Mahomet himself successively appearedin the field; but retreated, leaving their thousands of slain toattest the invincibility of the Albanian chief. Only one Ottomancommander ventured to return for a second campaign. The old Latinchronicles of the monk Marinus Barletius--who records the deeds ofCastriot in thirteen volumes--assign this honorable distinction to theJanizary, Ballaban Badera. In six campaigns this redoubtable warriordesolated Albania. From Thessaly, northward over the land, poured theMoslem tide, but it stayed itself at the waters of Skadar; and, as iffate had approved the prophecy of the aged stranger at the nuptials ofConstantine and Morsinia, the castle of De Streeses during all theseterrible years, looked down upon bloodless fields. Though his landswere ravaged, the courage of Castriot was not wearied, nor was hisgenius baffled, until, in the year 1467, there came upon him amightier than Ballaban, a mightier than Mahomet. In the presence ofthe last enemy he commended his country to the valor of his voivodes,his family to the protection of friends,[111] and his soul to thegrace of Jesu, his Saviour. They buried him in the old church atLyssa. Years after, no Scanderbeg succeeding Scanderbeg, the Turkspossessed the land. They dug up his bones, and, inclosing theirfragments in silver and gold, wore them as amulets. Pashas and Viziersesteemed themselves happy, even in subsequent centuries, if they mightso much as touch a bone of Scanderbeg; "For perchance," they said,"there may thus be imparted to us some of that valor and skill whichin him were invincible by the might of men."
FOOTNOTES:
[110] The price of blood, generally 1000 piastres among the poorerclasses, which was paid by the culprit to the village where the crimewas committed, and by it paid to the general government.
[111] Castriot married late in life.
THE END.
The Captain of the Janizaries Page 57
