Volume Two – Chapter Twelve
As our hero was attacking the retiring troops of the Russians, he observed a young officer endeavouring to form his men into squares, and to keep them in close order to repel the desperate charges of the wild mountain cavalry.
Again and again were they broken; and at one time, by a furious charge, Ivan succeeded in riding close up to the officer, in hope of taking him prisoner; when, to his sorrow, he recognised in his opponent his former friend, Thaddeus Stanisloff. Before he had time to summon him to surrender, one of the Circassian horsemen was on the point of cutting him down, when, throwing himself forward, he interposed his own sword, and saved his friend from destruction. A shot directly after killed the Circassian; and Ivan, calling upon Thaddeus by name, entreated him to surrender. But at the moment the young Pole recognised him, the Russians rushed forward with desperation to rescue their officer, and Ivan was himself obliged to retreat with his followers. He had no further opportunity of getting near enough to Thaddeus to speak to him; for the retreat of the defeated infantry was soon after covered by the arrival of a strong body of troops from Ghelendjik; and the Circassian warriors were obliged to quit the pursuit of their prey.
Like the last heavy cloud of a thunder-storm, the mountaineers made a tremendous charge on the remnant of the retreating Russians, almost overwhelming them in their fury; and then, like a whirlwind, they swept by before the arrival of the fresh troops, and galloped off to overtake their companions.
As Ivan was passing the prisoners, he heard a voice calling to him by name. He started, and turned to see whence it came; for he fancied he recognised the tone; and in a miserable object, his dress torn and covered with blood, he saw his former attendant, the faithful Karl, in the hands of a mountaineer, who, on a promise of a slight recompense, consented to give up his prize to his young leader.
As soon as poor Karl was liberated, he rushed to Ivan’s side to express his gratitude. “My honest, my kind friend,” said our hero, “it makes my heart beat quickly to see your old familiar face. Banish all fears, for no one here will ill-treat you. You shall be at liberty to go where you like, or to return to your countrymen in the castle of Ghelendjik.”
“Oh, my dear master,” replied Karl; “don’t, for mercy’s sake, talk of sending me back; for that is the very last place that I know of in the world, that I should wish to return to. Let me be your servant and slave as before, for I would not give a glass of quass for the freedom we gain, by becoming soldiers. Let me follow you wherever you go.”
“Well, my good friend,” replied Ivan; “you shall do as you wish; but we have no time to lose, or we may all fall again into the hands of the Russians. Keep, therefore by my side, till we get beyond the reach of the enemy.”
Saying which, Ivan rode on with his companions, Karl holding by his stirrup.
During the whole of the combat and skirmishing we have described, young Conrin and Javis were by Ivan’s side, charging into the thickest of the enemy; and many a blow did the page ward off from his master, while the squire was as much occupied in protecting him, for he seemed scarcely to think of himself. The boy’s eye burned with an almost unnatural lustre, and his lips were closely pressed, as with sword in hand, he rushed amid the fierce mêlée; but he seemed to bear a charmed life, for neither steel or bullet touched him.
While our hero was proceeding at a fast pace along the sea shore, followed by his two attendants, and a body of mountaineers, who had no little difficulty in dragging on some of their captives, and were besides, heavily laden with arms taken from the enemy, a loud shout made them turn their heads, when they perceived a large body of Cossacks fresh from the fort, coming at full gallop towards them. The horses of all the party were already fatigued with the fight and pursuit; they had small chance of escape by flight, and they were too far outnumbered by the foe, to hope to gain the victory in a second engagement. Yet, what was to be done? It was better to die fighting bravely with their faces to the enemy, than to be cut down in an ignominious flight; and at all hazards, Ivan ordered his men to wheel round, and receive the charge of the coming cavalry, though the odds were dreadfully against them, when one of the Circassian horsemen, calling to his companions to follow, led the way through a steep narrow ravine, thickly overhung with trees.
Here, at all events, they could fight at an advantage, if the Cossacks attempted to follow; but most of the party had enough of fighting for the day. They eagerly followed their guide up the mountain, which appeared almost insurmountable for the animals. Karl, in greater haste than any of the party to escape from his late masters, scrambled up the rocks with the utmost agility, scarcely looking behind, to see if Ivan followed; who, finding; the uselessness of further fighting, rode after the rest; and they had already gained a considerable height, when the Cossacks arrived at the base of the mountain.
Their horses, though fleet, were unable to compete with the goat-like nimbleness of the Circassian steeds; and, as they rode about seeking for a practicable way to follow, many of their number fell beneath the unerring aim of the mountaineers. Vainly returning the shots which told so fearfully among their ranks, they rode up the mountain in desperation; and at last, finding the pathway by which the Circassians had escaped, and attempting to ride up it, they were still more at the mercy of their enemy; till at length, despairing of overtaking them, and having lost many of their number, their officers called them off, and they galloped back to the fort, leaving our hero and his band to pursue their route unmolested.
From the spot they had now reached, it was much more easy to mount than to descend. Continuing, therefore, their upward course among broken crags and stumps of trees, leaping and climbing from rock to rock, after infinite labour, they at last reached the flat ground, which crowned the summit of the mountain; when, striking across the country, they perceived the bands of Arslan Gherrei, and the Hadji, with the chieftain’s daughter and her women.
No sooner did Ivan and his small band appear at the summit of the hill, than the keen eye of the Hadji caught sight of him; and spurring on his steed, he came to meet him, almost lifting him from his horse, as he rode up to his side to embrace him; at the same time, exclaiming with accents of delight: “Welcome to my arms, my son! I feared one of the future heroes of the Attèghèi might have been slain by those rascal Cossacks, as you could nowhere be found after the fight. But my heart leaps with joy, to see you alive; for well have you fought this day, and full worthy are you to be called a son of the Attèghèi! My eye was on you, when you first charged the Cossack horse, and I was then confident you would prove no disgrace to your country; for bravely you fell upon them; and one of the noblest of our Uzdens says, that you gallantly came to his aid, when hard pressed by our foes. His fair daughter seeks to shew you her gratitude, for rescuing her from the hands of Besin Khan, that vile traitor. So, my son, you have lost no time in becoming known as a gallant warrior, and the praise of the chief, whom you rescued, is alone the proudest meed you could gain.”
“Happy, indeed am I, to have won his praise then,” replied Ivan; “and not the less your’s, my kind friend. But I hope, with your guidance, ere long to win more laurels in my country’s cause.”
They waited till Arslan Gherrei and his band came up; when the chieftain, leaping from his horse, Ivan doing the same, advanced to meet him.
“My gallant young hero!” he exclaimed, embracing him, “though a stranger, as I hear, in our land, you have this day shewn yourself as valiant as the bravest of our chiefs; and a deep debt do I owe you, not only for saving my life, but in rescuing my only child from the hands of our enemy. Think not, that if I am wanting in the power of expressing my feelings, my heart thanks you the less. My child too longs to throw herself at your feet, to express her gratitude.”
“Speak not thus noble chieftain, for you owe me nothing,” cried Ivan. “I acted but the duty of a warrior, nor deserve thanks for so doing; and tell your fair daughter, that to have been of service to her, is my greatest happiness. The gratitude of all is, however, due to my father, the Hadji Guz Beg; for he it was, who shewed us the way into action.”
“Do not thank me, my friends,” exclaimed the Hadji; “for I have not been so happy for years. Inshallah! we left not a few of our foes on the field. But we must not delay here, my friends; the day is far spent, and if we lose more time, we shall not reach our konag before dark.”
Mounting their horses, therefore, they overtook the rest of the party, passing the Armenian pedlar and his pack horses. He had remained on the summit of the hill when the Hadji’s band galloped down to join the fight – a distant hearer of the combat, though not venturing to approach near enough to the edge of the cliffs, to see what was going forward below.
“Ah, man of trade!” exclaimed the Hadji, laughingly, as he rode up; “you look fresh and well. As a spectator of our combat, you have managed to keep yourself cleaner than we have done. How think you, your friends the Russians like it? But you will make a rich harvest; for there are few of our followers who have not something to exchange for your goods.”
Ina gazed earnestly at our hero, as he rode past her; for an unaccountable feeling of bashfulness prevented his addressing her, though, bending low to his saddle bow, he respectfully saluted her, and went on to take his place by the Hadji’s side. Not so, however, his page the young Conrin, who gained a situation near her, earnestly stealing glances at her beautiful features, as her veil was occasionally blown aside; but they seemed not to give him that pleasure, which they so highly merited; for a slight frown and a look of dissatisfaction sat on the boy’s countenance, though he seemed so fascinated that he could not withdraw his eyes from her.
The warlike party now gained another height, close above the bay of Ghelendjik, when the report of musketry was heard. Looking down upon the fort, a wreath of smoke ascended to the sky, and they observed a company of the Russian soldiers drawn up, and a man in the dress of the country fall beneath their fire. A feeling of rage and indignation agitated their breasts, as they fancied some friend might have been thus cruelly murdered; and brandishing their weapons they uttered a loud shout of defiance, and a promise of revenge. They were, however, obliged to retreat behind shelter, for their appearance was a signal for the discharge of all the guns in the fort.
“Bismillah! I wish we had some of their powder and shot, if they can afford to expend it in this way upon the rocks and trees,” exclaimed the Hadji. “But whom have the cowards dared thus to murder before our eyes?”
A young mountaineer, who had been stationed as a scout close to the fort, now made his appearance.
“Yonder died the traitor squire of Besin Khan, who this morning deceived us all by false reports,” said the youth; “and now he has paid the penalty of his deceit, for the Russians have vented their rage at their own defeat on him.”
“It is well,” exclaimed the Hadji. “They have saved us a task, for which they are more fitted.”
As it was found impossible to reach the place at which they had originally intended to stop before night, a nearer konag was fixed upon, and a messenger sent forward to warn the host of their near approach.
The shades of evening were fast coming on, as they caught sight of a smiling village, sequestered in a dell amid the mountains, and shaded by lofty trees. The chimneys with their curling wreaths of smoke, and the shepherds driving home their flocks, afforded a scene of rural beauty and peace, in welcome contrast to that in which they had lately been engaged. As our wayfarers reached the dwelling of the chief of the hamlet, the moon rose above the mountains, throwing her pale golden hue on their summits, and shedding her rays in a silvery stream amid the forest glades, and deep into the recesses of the dale. Numerous domestic slaves ran out to take the horses of the chiefs, who were ushered into the guest-house, by the squire of the lord of the mansion; he himself being absent, mounting guard in the passes from Ghelendjik, above which they had lately passed. Ina and her attendants were delivered over to the care of the wife and daughters of the host.
As Ivan was dismounting, he observed the Armenian merchant regarding the Russian prisoners with an uneasy look, which was increased when he saw Karl in close attendance on himself. Javis also regarded the pedlar with a scrutinising glance.
“There is something in that man’s look that I like not,” said he, addressing Ivan. “I will watch him closely, for if I mistake not, he will be found no true friend to Circassia.”
As the man, unsuspicious of what was said of him, moved onward with his pack horses to take up his abode with one of the inhabitants of the village, of equal rank to himself, Karl came up to Ivan who was standing under the verandah of the guest-house admiring the scene of loveliness before him.
“Hist! sir, hist!” he said. “Did you observe yonder travelling merchant? Where did he come from? I am surprised to see him in such worshipful company; for if my eyes deceive me not, I saw him a few nights ago, as I was on guard near the Baron’s quarters, pass by me twice, and each time a light fell upon his features, so that I think I cannot be mistaken. He remained closeted with the governor for an hour, and then took his way towards the mountains.”
“Is it, indeed, so?” said Ivan. “The man must be closely watched; for it will not be advisable to let a spy go at large. Here, Javis, I give it to your charge to watch the pedlar’s movements. My friends seem to have no suspicion of him; but I will speak to the Hadji, and persuade him to send some shrewd person to assist you, and act as your guide if requisite.”
As he spoke the Hadji himself appeared, and Ivan lost no time in mentioning the suspicions which had been raised about the Armenian’s honesty.
“A spy do you think he is?” he replied; “I suspected the fellow was a knave when he tried to persuade the Prince of Pchad that there was no use in contending with Russia. No use, forsooth! We shewed them as much to-day. But this fellow shall be watched, and he shall pay dearly if he proves treacherous.”
“You are silent, my son; of what are you thinking?”
“I am thinking of a dear friend I once had who is in the ranks of the enemy,” replied Ivan. “He is a noble Pole, who, did he know the true state of this country, would, I feel confident, be ready to shed his best blood in our cause instead of against us. I saved his life to-day; and I long to find means to see him and to bring him over to our party. Say, my father, how I can accomplish it?”
“I scarcely know,” replied the Hadji. “We might send some one on some pretext into the fort; but these Russian rascals are grown suspicious of late, and our young men cannot now play them the tricks they were wont to do. It was a bad system; and our elders put a stop to it. It was at one time a common custom for the young men to go to the Urus, and pretend to be great friends, and then to carry off all the presents they could get, and laugh at their beards. You must now, however, bide your time, and perhaps something may happen, before long, to favour your wishes.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the announcement that the evening meal was served, and at the same time their host arrived from his guard. Throwing off his large dark-coloured watch cloak as he entered, he offered his welcome to all his guests, and congratulations on the success of their recent exploit.
Volume Two – Chapter Thirteen
The rage and fury of the Baron Galetzoff was ungovernable when, instead of his troops returning with a number of prisoners, the Tchernemorskoi Cossacks first arrived in disorder and dismay at the fort, giving news of the entire defeat of his well-laid plan to entrap the chief Arslan Gherrei and his followers, and of the dangerous situation in which the fugitives had left the infantry. He lost no time in ordering out fresh troops to cover their retreat, and he smiled with grim satisfaction when he heard that the instigator of the plan had fallen. He determined to wreak his vengeance on the hostage who remained, as having forfeited his life by the failure of the enterprise.
The traitor Kiru, suspecting that something had gone wrong from the bustle and excitement around, made a desperate and nearly successful attempt to escape, when he was dragged back by the soldiers, manacled, and chained to a stake, with a strong guard placed over him. No sooner did the governor return from succouring his defeated troops than the prisoner was summoned before him.
“Traitor! you have deceived me!” he exclaimed. “Instead of capturing one of your chiefs, my troops have been defeated; and before another hour has passed you shall die.”
The Tartar looked at him fearlessly.
“If I die,” he said, “my master and my tribe will amply revenge me; you dare not slay me.”
“Do you speak, barbarian, of your master?” said the governor. “Your traitorous master now is a rotting corpse among the bodies of my brave fellows whom he betrayed! Expect not help from him.”
The traitor started at these words, and his courage seemed to give way. “Russian, speak you the words of truth? Has my master indeed fallen?” demanded the prisoner.
“I tell you the truth,” replied the general. “Your master has received the reward of his treachery; and you shall soon follow his fate. I give you ten minutes to prepare; after that you die. Lead him away!” he cried to the guards who held the prisoner.
“Since my master has fallen, what have I more to do with life? I spit at you – I laugh at your threats. Do with me as you will, but I will yet be revenged.” And with herculean strength, throwing aside the soldiers who held him, he had nearly reached the throat of the governor when he was felled to the ground. He was again manacled and led off, using every epithet of abuse, to shew his scorn of his executioners.
At the lapse of the specified time, he was led outside the ramparts of the fort, where he was again chained to a stake to prevent any chance of his escape. His shallow grave was dug beneath his feet. His courage was indeed worthy of a better fate and better cause, for he quailed not during the preparations.
A company of soldiers advanced; and as they presented their muskets he shook his manacled and clenched hands at them in an attitude of defiance, and uttering, with a dreadful shriek, the war-cry of his tribe, his body was pierced with innumerable wounds. Ere the yet warm clay had ceased to vibrate with the pulse of life, the corpse was thrown into the shallow hole prepared for it, and instantly covered up; so that in a few minutes from the time a human being had stood there with all the energy and strength of life, he was for ever hidden from the sight of men, and a little new turned up earth alone marked the spot of the tragedy.
None can pity the fate of Kim, which he so richly deserved, though not at the hands of his executioners. But it would be fortunate for the Russian name if it were not stained with atrocities of a much darker hue. The garrison of the fort remained all the rest of the day in a state of watchfulness and alarm, in expectation of an attack from the mountaineers, whom they thought their weakened state might tempt to come down upon them, if a sufficient force could be assembled in the neighbourhood; their fears however were groundless, for the day passed away without any further appearance of the enemy.
Some hours after dark, a figure was perceived by the outer picket stealing cautiously from beneath the shadow of the cliffs towards his post. The person, on being challenged, gave the sign and countersign, and was allowed to pass to the gate of the fort, where, the like caution being employed, he was admitted, and conducted to the quarters of the governor. The Baron looked up on seeing him enter, with an expression of satisfaction.
“Ah! my faithful Armenian,” he exclaimed, “I rejoice to see you return here in safety. What news do you bring me from the enemy’s country? Do the barbarians think of attacking us?”
“I bring you some news which may please you, noble General, though not much of general importance,” replied the seeming Armenian, in very good Russian.
“Let me hear it quickly then; for I require some good news to put me in spirits after the disaster of the morning:” said the governor. “And how came you not to give me warning that so large a body of Circassians were on the move?”
“I knew not of it myself till the moment I saw the troops engaged,” answered the spy.
“Well, well, I believe you: but your news now,” said the General.
“In the first place the barbarians are meditating some exploit – though I yet know not what, but will discover to-morrow – under the guidance of that old rebel Guz Beg, who has just returned from a pilgrimage to Mecca, and has lost no time in inciting his countrymen to fresh outrages against you, their rightful masters. He nearly cut my throat when he heard me trying to persuade old Mahmood, the Prince of Pchad, to send in his allegiance to the Emperor. I was obliged to hold my tongue to save my neck. The Hadji, as he is now called, touched at some place in the north of Turkey, Varna I believe, and there picked up a young Russian, as he seems, though he speaks the Circassian language, and two followers, who act as his squire and page. They at all events are Russian, for I heard them conversing together, and I have my strong suspicions that their master is an officer of the Emperor who has deserted, for I heard him speaking to one of the prisoners, whom he took to-day, as an old acquaintance, calling the man Karl.”
“It is he!” almost shouted the General. “I guessed it from the moment you spoke of him. May curses rest on the traitor’s head! One whom I had adopted as my son! But I will punish him for his vile ingratitude. That knave, who was taken prisoner, or rather deserted, was once in attendance on him, and a slave of mine. Now mark me. I will give a handsome reward to any who delivers them into my power. Are you ready to gain it?”
“I would do any thing to please you, General, much more to gain a reward,” answered the spy. “But I know not how to manage it.”
“It must be done,” said the Baron. “Entice him near the fort, when he may be taken prisoner, or watch his movements, and perchance he may be found sleeping in the neighbourhood, when I will send a strong body to capture him. But mark me, I must have him brought before me a prisoner, and my orders are not to be disobeyed. Follow what plan you will; I would rather have his head than that of a thousand Circassians.”
“Your orders shall be obeyed, General,” answered the spy. “And I will set my wits to work for the purpose.”
“Remember your reward shall be great if you succeed. You may now return, or you may be missed by the barbarians, and fail not to come to-morrow night with the report of your proceedings.”
“I will obey your orders, Baron, without fail,” replied the spy, as, bowing, he retired out of the fort, and returned to the village he had left, without the slightest suspicion that his movements had been observed.
We must now follow the steps of our hero’s faithful squire, Javis, who was keeping a strict watch on the house in which the Armenian merchant had taken up his abode, in company with an active, clever youth, whom the Hadji had sent to act as his guide. They had not long to wait before they saw the Armenian issue from the house, telling his host that he must, before night was over, pay a visit to the chief of the village, to settle about some goods he had sold him, as he might be obliged to start early on his way. To deceive his host he first took the path to the chiefs house of whom he had spoken; then, turning abruptly, he hastened in the direction of the fort of Ghelendjik. Following him at the same speed, over hill and dale, through brake and stream, Javis and his guide traced him till he arrived in the neighbourhood of the fort.
Fortunately for their design, the moon was now obscured by some dark clouds; and, leaving the lad under shelter of some rocks, the Gipsy crept cautiously forward, till he arrived close to the picquet, where he heard the password given, and the Armenian, who addressed a few words to the guard in Russian, was instantly allowed to proceed. Remaining cautiously concealed, Javis waited till he again saw the spy pass from the fort, and heard the officer on guard give him the password for the following night – “The Eagle of Russia” – when the man set off rapidly towards the interior. Dodging his steps, Javis traced him to the house he had left.
Outside the house of the chief, Javis found the Hadji and Ivan anxiously waiting his return, to whom he related what he had seen.
“Let the knave rest to-night,” said the former, “to-morrow we will give him a surprise he little dreams of. He can do us but little harm now.”
“I have thought of a plan,” said Javis, “by which you can communicate with Lieutenant Stanisloff, without danger either to him or to yourself. I heard the password given for to-morrow night, and I propose to personate the treacherous Armenian, and gain admittance to the fort, where I will trust to my own wits to find out your friend, and give him your message, and to escape without seeing the governor, who would probably discover me. What say you, Sir, to my plan? Shall I attempt it?”
“Though I long to see my friend, I would not that you should run so great a risk; for were you discovered, your death would be certain,” said Ivan.
“O fear not for me, Sir,” replied Javis, “my life is of but little value to any one, and the danger is not so great as it appears; for those thick-headed Russians are not likely to distinguish me at night from the Armenian. I shall also, I have no doubt, be able to gain some further information from the man to-morrow.”
The next morning the Armenian appeared with his packs on his horses’ backs, as if prepared for a journey. He smilingly saluted the chiefs who were assembled in front of the guest-house; but alarm took the place of his smiles, when he observed the stern looks which met him on every side; and more so when he found himself surrounded by a number of their armed followers.
“Whither go you so fast, Armenian?” said the Hadji, sternly. “Are you hastening to visit your friends the Urus? What, do you turn pale? Drag the treacherous spy from his horse,” he added, turning to his attendants, “and bring him along. We will judge his case; and if he prove guilty, he knows the punishment of spies.”
The unfortunate pedlar trembled violently as he was dragged along to an open glade surrounded by trees, at a short distance from the village. Here the chiefs soon assembled, as well as several rich Tocavs or yeomen, and other influential men in the neighbourhood, who were summoned to give the criminal the fairest trial.
The judges seated themselves, with due formality and gravity, in a semi-circle, on a grassy bank, when the terror-stricken Armenian was brought before them. The witnesses against him, Javis and his guide, were also summoned into their presence. Javis first gave his evidence, which Ivan interpreted, as also did his guide.
“Said you not, Armenian, that you were a man of peace, and a friend to the Attèghèi?” demanded the chief of the village, who acted as president. “See that you have not spoken lies, and proved that you are a friend of our enemies. Answer this one question: where went you last night?”
“Where went I?” tremblingly echoed the Armenian. “I went forth from the house of my good konag, to cool my brow after the heat of the day. Surely I went no where beyond the hamlet.”
“Oh thou son of the evil one! Think you to elude our vigilance? Answer truly, or you die on the spot. Why went you to the camp of our enemies?”
“Oh! spare my life, noble chiefs!” cried the Armenian, falling on his knees. “I am but a poor trader, and I went but to sell my goods. Oh slay me not, valiant nobles!”
“Do you not know that it is prohibited to have any dealings with the enemy?” said the president. “And of what use are such goods as you carry to the Urus? But you are full of lies. You went without your goods, secretly, and by night. You know the enemy’s password. You were seen to enter their fort, and shortly after to return. Your own words condemn you. What say you, Uzdens?” turning to the other judges, “has the Armenian proved himself to be innocent, or is he guilty?”
The chiefs, all standing up, pronounced the solemn words of the wretch’s doom —
“He is guilty: let him die the death of a spy.”
The miserable being had not a word to plead in his own defence; but loudly crying for mercy, he lifted up his hands in an imploring attitude; for well he knew the dreadful fate prepared for him. The stern warriors relaxed not their features as they motioned to the attendants to lead him away. His crime was of the greatest magnitude, and no mercy could be granted him; not a voice spoke in his favour; not an eye turned with pity towards him.
At some distance from the hamlet was a lofty and perpendicular cliff, at whose base, over a rough rocky bed, roared a foaming and rapid torrent. The wretched Armenian, without any further delay, was dragged up a steep pathway to the summit of the cliff, where, by order of the Hadji, he was stripped of his high Astracan fur cap, his dark robe, and the appurtenances of his trade, and then led, shrieking, forward, to the edge of the precipice. As he thus saw his dreadful fate approaching, he screamed loudly for mercy and pardon; but his cries fell on the ears of those whom a fierce exterminating war had rendered deaf to pity for their cruel foes.