Volume Two – Chapter Six
As the sun of the first day, which Ivan had passed in his native land, sunk down beneath the waters of the ocean, shining bright and blue between an opening in the hills, the guests re-assembled in the hospitable mansion of the Prince Mahmood, where another repast was served, much in the style of the former; and as the party were seated at it, a new comer entered the guest-house. He was dressed in the high fur cap of Armenia, with a long-flowing, dark robe, bound by a belt round his waist, at which he carried an ink-horn, pen, and book.
A slave followed him, staggering under the weight of large packages, which he had unloaded from two horses at the door.
He took his seat respectfully, at some distance from the chiefs, and humbly ate the viands which the Prince ordered to be placed before him.
“Whence come you?” demanded the host of the stranger, who seemed to be a pedlar or travelling merchant. “What goods do you bring for sale? Allah knows we have little need of any, except powder and lead in these times.”
“I come from the City of the Sultan,” replied the Armenian, “from the rich Stamboul; and I bring jewels and silks for your lovely wives and daughters, and gemmed daggers and swords for you, noble chiefs. But I am a man of peace, and thought not of the powder and lead.”
“You will find but a bad market for such wares here,” answered the Prince; “but in my house you are welcome. What news bring you from Stamboul? Do you hear what measures the great Padishah is taking in our cause? Or, forgetting the children of his holy creed, does he tamely submit to the audacious tyranny of the proud Moscov?”
“Alas! my father,” replied the merchant, “though all men desire to aid your cause, and many would eagerly hasten to your assistance, yet the power of Russia is great, and no movement can be made without coming to the ears of her minister in the capital of the Sultan, where a whole host of spies are ever on the watch to carry information to him. The Sultan – may Allah prosper him! – would of his own free will do much for you; but where is now his power, since the standard of the Osmanlis has sunk before the eagles of the Moscov? Alas! fallen is the greatness of the Turks, my father. Their old allies, the Inglis, have forsaken them, and joined the armies of their foes. What help have you, but to yield to the mighty power opposed to you?”
“What help have we!” vehemently exclaimed the Hadji. “You are a man of peace, and the guest of our host, or you should eat those words of dirt you speak. What help! We have the help of Allah in our rightful cause, and our own good swords to defend our homes; and with the will of heaven, we will show those cursed Urus that we know how to use our arms. Let them venture from their strongholds, and we will teach them a lesson they will not easily forget. Go to their camps, merchant. Tell them to come on; we fear them not. But, man, you speak false. Bosh! it is nonsense. I, too, have come from Stamboul; and the Inglis are again the friends of the Sultan; and I know well they would aid our cause if the Urus did not cram their ears with lies. There are many noble spirits among them, ready to fly to our assistance. Go to, man, you speak of things long passed. You know not what you say.”
The Armenian pedlar looked confused for a moment, but his assurance soon returned.
“If the noble Hadji has just arrived from Stamboul, I have no more to say. I have journeyed far by land since I left that city, so he, perchance, brings fresher news than I do.”
“The Hadji is right,” said the Prince. “For I too know that the Inglis are our friends, and if they would but send us powder and lead, we would be grateful, and be their friends for ever.”
“The Inglis, say you, Prince?” answered the Armenian; “you are deceived in the Inglis. They are a nation of merchants like me, and aid not a cause where they cannot make gain; some few are gallant warriors, and would shed their blood perhaps in your cause; but of what assistance would a few more swords be among a nation of warriors? No, Prince, I say, expect no help from them. Seek not to war against so powerful a nation as the Moscovite. I say not, be friends, but it is madness contending with them.”
“Mashallah!” exclaimed the Hadji, furiously regarding the stranger, “I warned you, trader, not to speak of peace with our foes, and you have again done so. Beware how you utter those words again. The Inglis are a brave nation, and I know that they are good warriors, for I have met many of them; and all who come to this country shall be welcome. But what want we more than our own arms to defend our own mountains? Speak not again of peace. Bosh! such words I spit upon; – they are vile.”
“I see, noble Hadji, your slave is wrong,” cringingly returned the pedlar. “I thought of some other Franks; mine too is not a nation of warriors like your’s, to hold out so long against an invader, and to endure, for so many years, all the miseries of war. I spoke but my own feelings, therefore let not your anger be kindled against a poor merchant, who would do nothing to offend you.”
The Hadji’s anger was as quickly appeased as it was easily excited, and he regarded the Armenian more with feelings of the deepest contempt than with any hostile thoughts. The pedlar himself appeared to have discovered that the most discreet conduct he could follow, was to keep silence among the present company.
Appealing to the Prince, he craved leave to exhibit his goods to the ladies of the family.
“I have but little to give for aught you may possess, merchant; yet as the women love to look on fine silks and jewels, you may send in your packages to the anderoon, and see if they will select any. Go now, it is late, they will soon retire to rest.”
As the Armenian left the apartment, the Hadji glanced at him with a look of disgust. “For what should that slave talk to us of treating with the Urus?” he cried; “one might think from his words that he was a friend of theirs; but he is a craven-hearted slave, and not worth further thought.”
The principal part of the company now adjourned to the verandah in front of the house, where they passed an hour in smoking the much prized tchibouks.
Before they retired to rest, the pedlar returned, having disposed of some of his silks to the ladies of the family.
“Your slave,” he said, humbly addressing the Hadji, “hears that you and some other noble chiefs are travelling towards the north to-morrow, and it would be a high honour as well as a great kindness, if you would allow him to accompany you.”
“Do you fear, merchant, that your friends the Moscov would ease you of your goods, if you happen to go near their forts?” The pedlar started. “But what care I? you may go with us if your pack horses can keep pace with our steeds; but remember that we delay not for a few bales of silk.”
“Thanks, noble chiefs,” replied the pedlar, bowing before them; “much shall I prize your protection. But do not say that the Russians are my friends; I know them not, I hate them, I detest them, I spit upon them.”
“You do well, man,” replied the Hadji. “But remember another time, that if you talk of peace between the sons of the Attèghèi and the Moscov, while they remain on our coasts, you may chance to take a leap from a higher rock than you would like.”
“Your servant hears, and will follow your advice,” replied the Armenian; then turning to the Prince, he presented to him a richly jewelled dagger. “Perchance, as the noble Prince Mahmood will not purchase, he will accept as a gift this dagger from his servant, to prove his love for the Attèghèi, and his hatred for the Moscov. He will honour his slave much by receiving it from his hands.”
The Prince looked musingly at the dagger, which seemed of great value.
“Take back your gift, merchant,” he said; “what Mahmood requires he can purchase, and beware how you make such gifts. They are too much like the bribes the Urus offer to tempt traitorous hearts to join them. Mahmood thanks you, but cannot accept your gift.”
“Your slave would be more gratified if the Prince would take the trifling gift. He can repay it when he pleases.”
“I thank you, merchant, but I have said I will not accept your gift,” replied the Prince. “Therefore take it back, and go in peace.”
The Armenian, as desired, took the dagger, concealing it beneath the folds of his dress, while the Prince whispered a few words into Achmet Beg’s ear.
The night being already far advanced, the party prepared for rest. Slaves entered the guest-house, bringing cushions and coverlids of rich silk, and spreading them on the floor, to form beds for the guests, on which the voyagers gladly threw themselves to rest.
Seeing that every thing was arranged, their Princely host retired to a part of the dwelling appropriated to himself.
The walls of the room were adorned by tablets with passages of the Koran written on them, while the arms of the guests, with several suits of rich armour, hung suspended around. The internal ornaments afforded a strong contrast to the primitive simplicity of the mansion, and to the simple habits and customs of its inhabitants. The manners of the chiefs, however, were courteous and knightly, resembling all we hear of the chivalry of the middle ages, or perhaps still more like the heroes of ancient Greece.
The lower orders and serfs, also, are certainly less barbarous, and perhaps more intelligent than the Scottish highlanders of the same class a century ago, if it is necessary indeed to go back so far.
The next morning, the Uzden Achmet Beg assembled his followers, who had been dispersed about the neighbouring hamlet for the night; and when it was rumoured that the celebrated Hadji Guz Beg had returned from his distant pilgrimage, and was about to take the field, with his hatred of the Urus unabated, numbers of young men volunteered to join his standard, leaving the old men and women to attend to their fields. Achmet Beg indeed, though the head of his tribe, and a much respected noble, had not gained that renown which his younger brother had acquired by a long series of hazardous and daring exploits. The latter, therefore, was always preferred as a leader by the young and bold spirits of their tribe, nor did the elder, who was of an unambitious, quiet character, feel the slightest jealousy at his brother’s superior military abilities.
Ivan was overjoyed when he found with whom he had formed a friendship, little thinking while aboard ship, where he had scarcely spoken on the subject of war, that the sedate Hadji was the renowned warrior he on all sides was acknowledged to be; and though he seemed somewhat to boast among his friends of past deeds, and of others to be accomplished, it was easy to see that it was not the vaunting of a pretender, by the attention paid to his words.
A gallant array of cavaliers now assembled before the house of Prince Mahmood; the chiefs in glittering suits of armour, some of highly polished plates of steel, and others of finely worked chain, their cloaks of varied colours, and swords girded to their sides, with richly embossed handles. The daggers in their belts were decorated in the same manner. Many carried pistols, and the greater number had also a long rifle slung at their backs, thus mingling the weapons of ancient and modern days.
Their retainers were armed, some with long guns, and others with long bows, and quivers full of arrows, wearing in their belts short double-edged swords, or rather daggers, and straight sabres by their sides.
As Ivan issued from the house, he found a high-mettled steed waiting at the door, held by Achmet Beg’s squire. The Hadji advanced as he appeared, and leading the horse forward, presented it to him, saying:
“Let me be the first, my son, to provide you with a charger of the true Attèghèi breed, who well knows his way among the ranks of the Moscov; and in case you do not like the gift, you can repay me when we have made a foray into their country, and have carried off a rich booty. Till then, accept him from a father who loves you. There are two others, which count as nothing, for the use of your squire and page, though perhaps not to be matched among the Cossacks of the plain.”
Ivan, gratefully thanking him for his well-timed present, vaulted with alacrity into the light saddle, Javis holding his stirrup, and then following his example. Young Conrin also shewed himself no mean horseman, leaping lightly on his small, but well proportioned and active steed.
The whole party were prepared to set forth, when the aged prince himself appeared, tendering to each guest of noble rank a parting stirrup cup of mead; for such is the knightly custom, still adhered to in that primitive country.
“May the blessings of Allah attend you, my sons!” said the aged chieftain; “may your arms be victorious over our enemies, and may death fly from your ranks. Would that I too had strength to lead my followers to the field; but while my gallant sons yet exist to take my place, I must remain to guard our lands from the foe. Should it be the will of Allah that they fall, then I too must gird on my sword, and yield my last breath amid the din of battle. Now Heaven protect you, my sons!”
The venerable Prince, grasping the hand of each chief as in turn they rode by, the cavalcade set forward. As they issued from the court-yard of their konag, the cry of “Ogmaff! ogmaff! farewell! farewell!” resounded on all sides from the assembled retainers and slaves of the chief; and loud shouts of “Vo-ri-va-ka,” rent the air, as a parting salute to the warriors who were sallying forth to defend their country.
They set forward at a brisk pace, Ivan keeping by the side of the Hadji, who pointed out to him each scene of note as they advanced, explaining to him the Circassian style of fighting, and other subjects of interest and importance.
In the rear of their ranks, came the Armenian merchant and his pack horses, light active animals, formed of bone and sinew alone, who continued to keep up with the high-mettled steeds of the warriors, though the ground was rough and hilly. Their route lay across a country, wild as if no other foot had trodden it save the beasts of the forest; now over the edge of dizzy precipices, then descending into savage glens and through dark and frightful defiles, amid gigantic rocks, bared, broken, and distorted into a thousand strange forms.
Then again they had to scale some lofty elevation, amid splendid forest trees, where a platform of rich ground would be found, highly-cultivated, and far removed from the reach of their enemies. Occasionally they saw, amid the almost inaccessible recesses of the mountains, some Alpine cot, whose skin-clad inhabitant was tending his flocks of goats.
As they rode along, game of various sorts, such as wild turkeys, pheasants, hares, and deer, would start up in their path, to which some of the party gave chase, and either ran down or shot with their true-aimed arrows. As they were passing through a rocky defile, an immense wild boar started up in their path.
“A fortunate omen for our next expedition,” shouted the Hadji. “Now, my Deli Khans, let us give chase to the huge monster as we would to the savage Urus.”
Uttering these words, and with the spirit and agility of youth, spurring on his horse, followed by Ivan and the younger men of the party, he rode at the beast, who, gnashing his long tusks in defiance as he turned his head towards them, first endeavoured to escape among the rocks, when he saw the number of his foes. The Hadji was, however, too quick for him; and the boar, seeing escape from his active pursuers was hopeless, stood at bay. Grinning at them with his sharp teeth, and foaming with fury, he prepared to rush at the headmost of his opponents; but, nothing daunted, the aged, but active huntsman rode directly at him, and leaning from his saddle, plunged a short sword deep into the thick neck of the animal, who made a last desperate attempt to rip up the horse of his opponent; but the Hadji, making his steed spring on one side, the fierce beast rolled over, and expired without a struggle.
Shouts of applause, from those of his friends who had come up to the scene of action, followed this dexterous feat of the old warrior.
“Bosh! it is nothing,” he exclaimed. “I did it but to ascertain if my eye had lost its quickness, or my arm its nerve; but, praises be to Allah, neither of them is the worse for my long rest.”
The carcase of the boar was left to feed the beasts of the mountain, less scrupulous than the followers of Mahomet; though in truth, few of the Circassian mountaineers are very strict observers of the tenets of his religion, nor would object, if hard pressed, to a slice of the unclean animal.
“We will soon find more noble game than this,” said the Hadji, turning to Ivan, who had arrived as the boar received his death stroke; “and you will become both a good huntsman and a good warrior. But Inshallah! the first is only fit sport for boys or young men, when there are no enemies to be met with; and I did it but to stretch my sinews a little after my voyage.”
The whole party now proceeded through a deep and romantic glen, where scarcely a breath stirred the light festoons of creeping plants which hung from the rocks above. All seemed solemn and sad; when Achmet Beg’s followers struck into a low chaunting song, describing the actions of some chief who had fallen lately, fighting against the Russians. The whole party joined in a rich and full chorus; the sounds of Ay-a-ri-ra swelling and dying away among the ravines and far distant glades of the mountain forest.
Ascending a lofty eminence, crowned by trees, they emerged from their shelter, when a view was obtained of the sea below them, and of the fort of Ghelendjik, far to the north, built on one side of a deep bay. Stretching far beyond it was a long line of white cliffs. As the party of warriors gazed on it, expressions of execration burst from their lips, and the Hadji looked anxiously down a steep pathway leading to the shore, by which he might have gained the outside of the fort; but feeling the uselessness of the wish, he merely contented himself with muttering —
“The piggish cowards! Let us but meet them beyond their walls and without their cannon, and we will soon teach them better manners than to pay us a visit without an invitation.”
It struck the chiefs as singular, that they had met none of the sentinels, who watch every height along the coast in the neighbourhood of an enemy.
“The men of Hyderbey were not wont to be sluggards at their posts!” exclaimed the Hadji to his brother. “How is it that they do not watch these heights?”
“Perhaps they have gone nearer to our foes,” replied the chief, “to shoot any who may show their faces above the walls of their fort.”
The scene below them seemed calm and quiet. A few white sails of Russian vessels, alone dotted the smooth bosom of the Euxine. In the fort all was so quiet, that it looked like a deserted mound of earth. The roofs of the buildings scarcely peered above the walls; and the proud standard of Russia was hardly distinguishable, as it hung listlessly round its staff.
Not a breath stirred the air, and deep silence reigned on the calm scene, when, in a moment, it was broken by the loud crash of artillery, followed by the continued reports of musketry, far above which rose the loud war shriek of the Attèghèi.
“Allah be praised, here is work for us, my friends, without delay!” exclaimed the gallant Hadji, in a joyous tone, “Bismillah! we will be upon them when they little expect us, and aid our friends, whoever they are. Follow me, brave warriors.”
So saying, he spurred on his charger, with his brother and Ivan by his side, followed by the rest of the band, and galloped, by an almost precipitous path, down the wooded sides of the hill. They passed many a rocky ravine, and dry bed of winter torrents, tearing their way with eager haste through the boughs and thick underwood. Nothing could stop their course.