The Island of Enchantment

by Justus Miles Forman

land and sea, and he was a pessimist.

  There arose cries and shoutings without, and a petty officer burst intothe hut, puffed with importance and pride.

  "Prisoners, lord!" he reported. "Three spies caught skulking andpeeping in the wood."

  "Bring them in!" said young Zuan. "And keep those men quiet outside. Doyou wish the whole island to know we are here?"

  The prisoners were thrust into the room--great, squat, hairy fellows inthe barbaric dress of Huns, surly and villanous. They would not speak.It was evident that they understood neither Italian nor Greek, and theyaffected not to comprehend the sailing-master's halting efforts attheir own tongue. They only stared under their shaggy brows, silent andstolid, and tugged at the hands which were bound behind them.

  "Are these men?" cried out young Zuan, in fine Venetian scorn. "Takethe cattle away! Bind their feet and set a guard over them. Hark! Whatis that?"

  That was a woman's scream from without, low and very angry.

  "But a woman, lord," explained the officer who had brought in theprisoners--"a young wench who was prowling with these fellows and wastaken with them. Asking your lordship's pardon, I thought it idle tobring her to you--a common wench."

  "Take these men away," said young Gradenigo, "and bring in the woman.It may be that she speaks a Christian tongue."

  She crept into the hut, pressing against the side of the doorway, andstood against the farther wall--a girl, a mere slip of a girl, withher long brown hair down over her eyes. And there against the wall shestood, shaking, her hands twisting together over her breast, and hereyes, like the eyes of a hunted, cornered animal, went swiftly from oneface to another of the men across the room, and finally settled uponthe face of Zuan Gradenigo, and did not stir for a long time.

  She stood in her thin white shift, and on her bared arms were marks asif rough hands and none too clean had been there.

  When young Zuan spoke his voice was gentle and kindly, the maid was sosore beset, so full of fear, so alone.

  "Do you--understand Italian?" he asked. The maid did not answer him,but when she spoke she spoke in perfectly fluent Venetian dialect--asgood Venetian as Gradenigo's own. And the fear seemed to go from her,giving place to anger.

  "My garments, lord!" she said, and laid her bruised arms across herbosom in a little, pitiful gesture of outraged modesty. "Your menhave taken them from me. I am ashamed, lord. They--laid their foulhands on my arms." Her face twisted as at the memory of insult, and thelieutenant who stood across the room laughed aloud. Young Zuan turnedupon him fiercely.

  "Hold your laughter for a fitter excuse!" he said. "Are we Huns, toinsult women? Go out to those men and find the maid's garments. Bringthem here." The man went, staring, and, at a motion of Gradenigo'shead, the sailing-master followed him, leaving the two alone.

  "I am sorry, child," said Zuan Gradenigo. "We did not come here toill-treat women. I shall see that my men are punished for what theyhave done. Meanwhile--" He took up the mantle which he had put asideover a near-by bench, and, crossing the room, laid it over the girl'sshoulders. It covered her almost to the feet. And when he had donethis he stood, for what he imagined to be a moment, looking down intothe eyes that held his so steadily--brave eyes, unafraid, unclouded,unwavering. One could not be harsh or cruel in the gaze of such--eventhough they looked from the face of an enemy. An enemy? Nonsense! Agirl taken by chance as she wandered through the wood--as she peeped,full of childish curiosity, at the disembarkment of a ship's load ofsoldiers. Brave eyes, unafraid. That was why they held him so,because they fronted him without fear--even with trust.

  HE LAID THE MANTLE OVER THE GIRL'S SHOULDERS]

  Ay, doubtless that was why they held him so, and yet--He stirredrestlessly. Such great eyes! With such illimitable depths! How came awandering child by such eyes? They moved him oddly. The child wouldseem to be an uncommon child. Those steady, burning eyes of hers hadsome uncommon power, worked some strange spell, some sorcery, not evil,but unfamiliarly sweet, unknown to his experience.

  He gave a little, confused laugh and raised an uncertain hand towardshis head, but the girl had, at the same moment, put out one of her ownhands to fasten the clasp of Zuan's mantle at her throat, and hisfingers touched her arm.

  At that, as if it brought back her injuries to mind, she dropped hereyes, and the man was loosed incontinently from his chains.

  "Lord!" she cried again, flushing red in the light of the lanterns,"they put their foul hands upon me! They put their hands upon me!"The very present peril in which she might well have believed herselfto stand seemed not to occur to her. It seemed that only those rough,befouling hands were in her mind. Her face gave once more its little,shivering twist of anger and repulsion.

  "They shall be punished, child!" said Zuan Gradenigo, between tightlips. "Oh, they shall suffer for it, you may be sure. And now"--he tooka turn away from her, for her great eyes were upon him again, leveland unafraid--"now will you tell me who you are and how you came to befound with those barbarians to-night? Surely you can have no trafficwith such. Surely you are a lady. I have seen that." And indeed he hadseen, while the girl stood in her thin white shift, how beautifully shewas made--deep-bosomed, slim-waisted, with tapering wrists and ankles,and round white throat. No common wench was there. There was good bloodunder that white skin of hers.

  "Surely you are a lady," said young Zuan, but the girl bent her headfrom him.

  "Nay, lord," she said, very low, "I am only--a serving-maid to thePrincess Yaga."

  The red flamed into Zuan's cheeks.

  "That woman!" he cried. "You serve that vile fiend in human flesh, thatroyal strumpet, that wanton at whose name men spit? _You?_" The girlstared at him under her brows.

  "Oh!" cried Zuan Gradenigo. "Where is God that hell could devise such awrong? What was God doing that you should stray into such clutches andHe not know? That--that monster of vice and uncleanness!" He pointed ashaking hand towards the south.

  "There she sits," said he, "polluting the castle where Jacopo Cornerhas sat for so many years, where my grandfather sat before him, and hisfather before him. There she sits gloating; but, by God and St. Mark'slion! before this week is over I shall tear her head from her body andthrow it to the dogs. Nay! better than that! I shall send it, in thename of Venice, to the ban who sent her here to shame us."

  "Lord!" said the maid, very low--"lord! Oh, you do not know! You--speakwildly. You do not know what you say."

  "I know," said Zuan Gradenigo, "that all I say is true. That woman'sname is infamous throughout Europe. It is a name of scorn. It meansall that is vile--as you must know. Will Arbe ever be clean fromher--even when we have washed its stones with her blood? But _you_!"he cried, in a new voice. "Oh, child, that _you_ should have to serveher--be near to her! I cannot think of it with calmness."

  The maid turned a little away from him and moved over to the woodenbench where Zuan's mantle had lain. And she seated herself at one endof the bench, looking across the room at him very soberly.

  "And why not I, lord," she asked, "as well as another? What do you knowof me? I am--a serving-maid, and such must serve whomever they may." Hecame nearer and stared into her face, and his own was oddly troubled,frowning.

  "I cannot think of you--so," he said. "A serving-maid? There'ssomething strange here. Oh, child, you have something about you--Icannot say what it is, for I have no words. I fight, I am not a poet,but were I such, I think--your eyes--their trick of looking--their--Icannot say what I mean. A serving-maid? Oh, child, you are fitter forvelvets and jewels! I do not understand. Something breathes from you,"he said, with that trouble upon his frowning face, an odd trouble inhis eyes--bewildered, uncomprehending--like a child's eyes before somemystery. "Something breathes from you. I do not know what it is."

  The maid looked at him in the yellow, flickering lantern-light, andshe made as though she would speak, but in the end shook her headand turned it a little aside, and sat once more silent. And for atime the man also was silent, watching her averted face a
nd thinkinghow amazingly beautiful it was; not white with the pallor which theVenetian women so prized, but sumptuously rich of color, sun-kissed,free, unashamed of the wholesome blood which flowed under its goldenskin and stained it with red on either cheek. He found himselfpossessed of a mad desire to touch that cheek which was nearest himwith his finger, and the sheer folly, the childishness of the thoughtwould in any other mood have shaken a laugh of scorn from him. He wasnot a woman's man, as he had said, but a fighter.

  One of the maid's hands stirred in her lap and dropped beside heron the wooden bench. The lantern-light fell upon it--long, slender,tapering.

  "Your hand, child!" said young Zuan. "It is not the hand of aserving-maid. It has never done rough tasks."

  "My princess is kind to me, lord," she said. "My tasks are easy."

  He put out an uncertain hand and touched the hand that lay in thelantern-light. The maid drew a little, quick, gasping breath, and hereyes turned to him, great and dark. Then, like two silly, half-grownchildren caught holding hands, they both flushed red and their eyesturned aside once more.

  Zuan raised a hand to his temples, where the blood throbbed.

  "I--do not know what has come over me," he said, and turned a few stepsaway across the room. In a moment he was back again, on one knee beforeher.

  "You lay a spell upon me!" he cried, whispering into her bent face. "Iam unmanned. Strange things stir my heart, child--mount to my head likewine. You lay a spell upon me."

  "No, lord," she said, very low. "I am but a maid. I cannot work spellsor sorcery. It is only that I am alone and beset and miserable. It ispity that you feel, lord. Ah, you are kind and merciful. Lord, I--wishthat I might do you a service for the service you have done me."

  "Pity?" said young Zuan.

  "Pity, lord," she said again, and to his awkward, unskilful tongue andto his unaccustomed hands no occupation seemed to come, so that heknelt silent and troubled before her in the lantern-light.

  If it seem that enchantment came overswiftly upon him,overprecipitately, it must be borne in mind that he was a soldier,wholly unused to a woman's company, and that this girl, young,beautiful, and in sore straits, was brought before him in the mannermost certain to waken his chivalry--ay, to stir his ready heart. Themaid spoke shrewdly. It was pity he felt. But other emotions wait hardupon pity's threshold. Further, in young Zuan's day, love came swiftlyor not at all. It was not the day of courtship. Love was born of alook--a smile--a hand-touch. And such love has wrecked empires. It is asober truth that no great passion was ever of slow maturing.

  There came from without the door eager voices and quick steps,and the lieutenant whom Zuan had sent to fetch the maid's outergarments--krozet, saruk, and girdle--burst into the room. His eyeswere round, starting out of his head, and his face was flushed withexcitement.

  "She's still here, lord?" he cried out, almost before he had entered."The woman is here? You have not let her go?" His gaze searched the hutswiftly.

  "She is here," said Zuan Gradenigo, "but you will speak morerespectfully. Give me the garments!" The man's excitement was too greatto heed reproofs. He thrust the things he held into his master's arms.

  "See!" he cried. "See the girdle--the necklace--the charm she woreabout her neck! See whom we have taken!"

  Young Zuan looked at the jewels, and they slipped from his fingers andfell, flashing in the light, and lay about his feet. He turned veryslowly towards the girl, who stood against the farther side of thewall, and his eyes were once more like a child's eyes--bewildered,hurt, uncomprehending. He stretched out a hand towards her, and thehand shook and wavered.

  "It is the princess herself!" cried the lieutenant. "It is Yaga!" andfell into a chattering, hysterical laugh.

  "It is not--true," whispered Zuan Gradenigo, across the little room."Say it is not true!" His voice rose to a sharp, agonized appeal, butthere was no conviction in his tone. He knew.

  At the name the girl had cried out suddenly, and to smother the cry shecaught her two hands up to her mouth. Even then her eyes went from oneman to the other, swift and keen.

  "Say it is not true!" pleaded Zuan Gradenigo, but the lieutenantbabbled on, stammering in his excitement.

  "See, Messer Zuan! We have her! We have her fast! Why not set sailat once with her on board--at once, before they in the city know sheis taken? Why not? See! they are helpless without her. We can forcethem to give up Arbe for her. She is worth fifty Arbes to them--all ofDalmatia, perhaps. Why not do that? Messer Lupo's galley has not come,nor the other. We can do nothing alone. Take her on board, lord, beforeit is too late, and set sail. Leave Arbe to itself for a little. TheHuns will give it up to us. Come, come!"

  It is doubtful if young Zuan even heard. His eyes, stricken andhopeless, were upon the girl across the room, and he whispered over andover again:

  "Say it is not true! Say it is not true!" But the woman's eyes wereupon the floor, and her hands dropped to her breast, and then to herside with a little forlorn gesture, and she bent her head.

  "It is true, lord," she said. "I am the princess Yaga."

  The lieutenant gave a great shout and dashed out to his fellows. YoungZuan dropped down upon the near-by bench, covering his face.

  Then the woman came to him, crossing the room swiftly, and dropped uponher knees on the floor beside him.

  "Lord!" she said, touching his arm with her two hands--"lord, it wouldhave been of no avail to deny it. You would have found me out in time.I am that--dreadful woman, lord; perhaps not so dreadful as you havethought; perhaps men have lied about me--made things worse than theytruly are. Still--lord--" She crept closer to him on her knees, and herhands pressed eagerly at his arm. "Lord, it was wise, very wise, whatyour officer begged you to do. You have me fast--the ban's Yaga. Willyou not set sail with me and leave Arbe? Will you not hold me hostagefor your island? The ban will give it up to you in exchange for me.Lord, will you not do this?" She pleaded with him in an odd tone ofeager anxiety which might have aroused his suspicions had the man beenless overwhelmed in his misery. I do not think he heard more than thepleading voice. I do not think he followed her words at all.

  "Lord!" she cried again, shaking his arm with her two hands, "will younot do this? It will be best for you. Oh, far best! Listen, lord! Youhave been kind to me, gentle and pitiful. You saved me from--from greatshame at the hands of those men. You saved me when you knew that I mustbe an enemy--even though you did not know how great an enemy--and now Iam trying to save you. You are in great danger, lord, you and your men._Will_ you not listen to me?"

  Young Zuan raised a white face, and his eyes looked bitterly into thewoman's eyes that burned so near.

  "Danger?" he said, dully, under his breath. It seemed as if he did notcare. "What danger?"

  And then, as if his gaze held for her some of the strange sorcery whichhers had laid upon him, the woman faltered in her swift speech, and shegave a little sob.

  "Oh!" she cried. "Why did I not know? Why did I not know?"

  "What danger?" repeated Zuan Gradenigo, as if the words meant nothingto him.

  "They know that you are here, lord," she said. "We knew, in the city,that you were coming. The fishing-boat which passed you this morningat sea brought us news of three galleys from Venice. Now two of yourgalleys have been blown away by the sirocco. You are but a few men,a handful, and you will be overwhelmed. Oh, lord, we whom your mentook to-night were spying upon you, but there were three more whoescaped--three more men. They will have reached the city before thistime, and you may be attacked at any moment. Lord, _why_ do you sitthere silent? Why will you not take me on board your ship and sailaway?"

  It came dully to Gradenigo's mind, through the stress and whirl whichobscured it, that the maid showed a strange eagerness, out of reason.

  "Why do you tell me this?" he asked, suddenly. "Why not let yourbarbarians capture us--put us to death? Why do you wish to defeat yourown cause? There's trickery here." He rose to his feet, frowning, butthe woman was before him.

 
"If you--cannot see--lord," she said, and a bit of bright color cameinto her cheeks, "then I cannot tell you." Suddenly she put out her twohands upon his breast and fell to sobbing.

  "I will not have you killed!" she cried. "Oh, lord, I will not haveyou taken or slain! For your men I care nothing. They may die wherethey stand and it will be nothing to me, but _you_--lord, I cannot bearto have you taken!" There was no trickery in that. It came from thewoman's soul, shaking her sorely.

  Zuan looked at her, this slim, pale girl shaken with her sobbing--thismonster of vice and sin, at whose name men spat with derision--andagain he felt the strange, paralyzing weakness creep over him. He couldnot hate her. He turned his eyes away and shook himself into attention.

  "Come!" he said, "we will go. You cannot be lying to me. We will go."

  But before he could take a step there arose in the night without ababel of cries and screams and the clashing of steel. Above it all thesame strange, barbaric chant which those devils leaping about the firein the landing-place of the city had sung together.

  "Too late!" cried the girl. "Oh, too late! They are here already!"

  Zuan Gradenigo sprang silently for his sword, which he had laid asidein a far corner of the room, but as he did so the