Michael Apafi, whom, on September 14, 1661, Ali Pasha had created
Prince of Siebenburgen, had died. The Siebenburg Chambers, mindful
of their former friendly relations with the House of Austria, took
advantage of this opportunity to conclude a fresh treaty with the
Emperor Leopold, which allowed him to send into their country an army
of some 7,000 men, under the command of General Heuzler. To this force
Michael Teleki, with about 5,000 Siebenburgers, hastened to join
himself.
These independent proceedings, however, mightily displeased the Sultan,
who intended to confer the title of Prince of Siebenburgen upon Toköli,
one of his favourites. In order to compel the inhabitants to submit,
the Sultan immediately sent an army of 20,000 men into the already
overburdened principality. One of the Turkish generals, Ibrahim Pasha,
was encamped on the other side of Tokan. The troops under his command
were a mixed lot of Turks, Tartars, Armenians, and Circassians. To the
ravages of such inhuman marauders entire districts were ruthlessly
exposed, and every night the lurid glow on the horizon bore witness to
the wild and lawless doings of these fierce robber bands.
It was a mild autumn evening. The Pasha, a middle-aged man, whose
black, bushy beard gave a still more sinister aspect to his already
forbidding countenance, was sitting in front of his tent. He was seated
in Turkish fashion with his legs crossed under him, and was now and
then puffing a cloud of bluish smoke from his chibouque, when suddenly
a band of Tartars burst into the general's presence. They were dragging
along a couple of Wallachian prisoners, whose hands were securely tied
behind their backs, and whose wailings and loud lamentations at once
attracted the Pasha's attention.
[Illustration: "THEY WERE DRAGGING ALONG A COUPLE OF PRISONERS."]
The band halted before the general's tent, and the Tartar leader stood
before the Pasha, bowing obsequiously and with his hands folded on his
breast in token of humility, but not uttering a single word.
"Well, Hussein," asked the Pasha, "what do you bring me these
Wallachian dogs for?"
The Tartar then told his commanding officer that the prisoners had been
caught in the act of trying to steal two of the finest horses grazing
outside the camp; and that he had brought the malefactors to the Pasha
in order that he might know how to act with the offenders.
"What is all this fuss about?" said the Pasha, with the utmost
coolness. "Chop off their heads."
The Tartar chief made a sign to some of his people to lead away the two
rogues to instant execution, when an incident occurred which, though
in itself absolutely insignificant, yet served to give an entirely
different turn to affairs. As the Tartars advanced upon him to seize
him, the younger of the two prisoners, stepping back instinctively,
happened to catch his foot in a tent-peg and stumbled. The tall
sheepskin hat which he wore tumbled to the ground, and one of the troop
stooped to pick it up, in order to replace it on the prisoner's head.
Suddenly, however, the man was seen to stop and to fumble about the rim
of the head-dress. The Pasha noticed the momentary pause and the man's
half-puzzled look, and asked what was the meaning of it. It turned out
that behind the lining of the sheepskin cap some hard substance was
concealed. The terrified look which this discovery called up on the
possessor's countenance aroused Ibrahim's curiosity and suspicion, and
he ordered the lining to be ripped away. To the astonishment of all
present, the Tartar chief Hussein produced out of the dirty head-dress
an exquisitely painted miniature, the portrait of a most lovely girl.
"By the beard of the Prophet, a houri! Never did I see a lovelier
face!" exclaimed the Pasha, as with sparkling eyes he gazed at the fair
girlish features. "Speak, dog of a Wallachian, whose portrait is this?"
[Illustration: "WHOSE PORTRAIT IS THIS?"]
The elder of the two prisoners looked at his son, and shrugged his
shoulders. The younger alternately glanced at Hussein and at the Pasha,
undecided what course to take.
"Speak, Wallachian dog!" again shouted the Pasha. "Who is this woman?"
"As you value your father's life and your own," said the elder
prisoner, "speak, Petru; it may, perhaps, be of some use to us."
At the suggestion the eyes of Petru sparkled with hope, and forthwith
he told the Pasha that he had stolen the precious object from the
Pastor's daughter of Seiburg. The portrait was hers, and so exact and
lifelike was it that a mirror could scarcely have more faithfully
reflected her features. He had had many transactions with the servants
in the minister's house, and had thus been able easily to obtain
possession of what appeared to him a paltry jewel.
"Is Seiburg far from here?" asked Ibrahim Pasha.
"Only about a day's journey," exclaimed both father and son, almost in
a breath.
The Pasha was silent for a few moments, and appeared to reflect.
"Now, listen to me, you scoundrels," said he at length. "I am willing
to give you your lives, and I will richly reward you, if you will bring
me that girl, and deliver her up to me."
"High and mighty lord," said the Wallachian peasant eagerly, "give
me twenty good and trusty men, and, as certainly as my name is Joan
Komanitza, I promise that the splendour of your eyes shall fall upon
the girl! If I fail, you may take my life!"
"Very well," said Ibrahim Pasha, and calling Hussein to his side,
he ordered him carefully to select twenty of the strongest and most
trustworthy men of his people and to start with them and the two
Wallachians at once for Seiburg.
It was on the evening of the day which followed this occurrence that
Katarina, the daughter of Lucas Sydonius, pastor of Seiburg, was
sitting in the summer house adjoining the manse.
By her side sat her aunt, an old lady whose pale features and feeble
voice showed plainly enough that she had but just recovered from severe
sickness. Indeed, the state of her aunt's health was the reason why
Katarina had not long since sought a refuge within the fortified walls
of Hermannstadt or of Kronstadt. Half Seiburg had fled at the approach
of the dreaded Turks; only very few had remained, and among these was
Katarina, who felt that her duty was to protect and comfort her ailing
friend, who with her stood in the place of a mother.
Now, however, her aunt was in a fair way of recovery, and the next
morning they were to set out for Hermannstadt to rejoin her father,
whom, eight days before, the authorities had called thither to consult
with him as to the best means of protecting their country against the
Turks.
A tall, handsome man was standing at the table close by the girl and
her aunt. It was Matthias, the son of a councillor of Hermannstadt,
called Johannes Brenkner: Katarina was his affianced bride, and Pastor
Sydonius had sent him to fetch his daughter and his sister-in-law to
escort them to Hermannstadt.
"Dear aunt," said the young girl, "do not distress yourself because we
are forced to leave our peaceful home; we surely shall soon return to
it again."
These words of Katarina spoken to comfort her aunt, had, however, but
little effect. Her own eyes were full of tears, and the trembling voice
in which she uttered them proved that she also was moved by anxiety and
fearful forebodings.
But Matthias said cheerfully, "My dear aunt and Katarina, do not look
upon matters from their darkest side. It is true that Teleki has
fallen, and that the Imperial General Henzler has been taken prisoner
by the Turks; but for all that we must still have hope. All is not
lost, we are daily expecting Louis of Baden, and he will bring us
reinforcements."
[Illustration: "FULL IN THE FACE."]
Katarina was just about to answer, when a piercing shriek from the
courtyard of the manse rent the air. This shriek was almost immediately
followed by a confused noise, which soon increased to a deafening roar.
The servants of the manse all huddled together, screaming with terror;
Wallachian cries and Tartar curses were mingled with threats and
screams for mercy.
Before the occupants of the summer-house had time to recover somewhat
from their surprise there appeared at the open door the figure of a
young man, who kept his glistening eyes fastened upon Katarina. It was
Petru.
"Holloa! Here, boys!" he cried to his comrades in the garden; "here is
the little beauty! Upon my soul, she looks so like the Holy Paraskiva
in our church, may leprosy strike but I have not the courage to touch
her."
"Booby!" shouted a voice behind him, "I will show you the way to set
about it." With these words a big bearded Tartar pushed Petru aside,
and, with one bound, sprang on the young girl, who sat motionless with
surprise and terror. He was met, however, by a tremendous blow full in
the face, which staggered him, and sent him reeling to the ground. It
was Matthias who struck the blow in defence of his affianced bride;
but, in revenge, Petru dealt Katarina's champion so heavy a stroke
from behind with his knotted cudgel that he brought him stunned and
senseless to the earth. While this was taking place, Ibrahim Pasha's
men rushed into the summer-house, and Hussein at once seized upon
Katarina, whom a merciful swoon had for the time deprived of feeling.
"To horse and away!" shouted the Tartar chief. He had ordered the men
of his band to set fire to some outhouses and barns in order to prevent
the peasants still remaining in Seiburg from coming to the aid of the
Pastor's family. It was, therefore, an easy matter in the midst of the
confusion that reigned all around to make off with the fainting girl.
For a time all went well; but soon profound darkness set in, and the
ravishers were forced to dismount and lead their horses by the bridle.
Hussein only, who held Katarina trembling and half dead with terror
before him on the saddle, did not leave his horse's back. Old Joan
Kumanitza served as his guide. Meanwhile, the march through the thick
darkness became more and more difficult with every step, and Hussein
was glad enough to reach the hut of a Wallachian charcoal-burner.
[Illustration: "HUSSEIN HELD KATARINA ON THE SADDLE."]
"Are you here alone?" cried Hussein to the charcoal-burner, as he rode
up to the door of his cottage at the head of his troop.
"No," replied Nikou Bratza, "my wife Ravecca has for many years lived
here with me in these solitudes."
"We have lost our way," continued Hussein, "and can get no further. We
want to stay here under your shed until this storm has passed. The room
in your hut, I see, is scanty enough, but it is large enough to shelter
one woman. The rain has wetted her to the skin. I wish her to dry her
clothes and warm herself by the fire of your hearth."
"As you please, sir," said Nikou, and he called his wife to take charge
of the girl, who was trembling in every limb.
Though Hussein seemed so careful for the comfort of Katarina, it was
not in the least because he felt pity for the poor girl, it was the
fear of Ibrahim Pasha which moved him. Katarina's violent fit of
trembling, consequent on her excessive agitation, and the cold downpour
of rain, had not been unnoticed by him. It made him feel exceedingly
uneasy, for he was afraid that the girl might be attacked by some
serious illness, and he dared not, for his life, present her to Ibrahim
in her present condition.
The two horse-stealers also, old Joan Kumanitza and his son Petru, were
full of anxiety. The brook which flowed behind Nikou's hut, and which
the day before they had passed with perfect ease on horseback, was now
swollen into an angry torrent which forbade all attempt at crossing.
"How long may it be," asked Hussein impatiently of the charcoal-burner,
"before we may expect that confounded water to fall?"
"Who can tell?" replied Nikou. "It may abate towards midday to-morrow,
or towards evening. It is impossible to say."
The Tartar chief muttered an oath. "We must at all events start as soon
as the weather begins to clear up--cost what it will. Now bring us
something to eat."
Nikou went into the hut; but scarcely had he shut the door behind him,
than his wife rushed up to him, and, seizing his hand, dragged him to
Katarina's couch.
[Illustration: IN THE HUT.]
"Nikou, husband, look! There lies the daughter of the Pastor of
Seiburg."
"As I hope to be saved!" exclaimed Nikou, "it is the daughter of the
Saxon pastor, who twice helped us in the direst need."
But Ravecca had not waited for this confirmation from her husband's
lips. She fell down on her knees beside the girl, who still lay
motionless before her, and seized her hand, which she covered with
tears and kisses as she cried, in a low tone: "My little flower--the
apple of my eye! Is it you? Have you fallen into the hands of those
murderous thieves? Speak, speak, my violet! Do you know me? I am
Ravecca--old Ravecca. Tell me that you recognise me!"
Katarina now, for the first time, became really conscious of her
fearful position, and the pathetic attachment of the grateful old woman
seemed to awaken the girl to a sense of her danger. Flinging her arms
around the neck of the kind-hearted Wallachian, she sobbed out in a
voice choked with tears, "Oh, Ravecca, save me! Save me, dear Ravecca,
from this hideous danger!"
Nikou Bratza was sitting on a footstool close by the hearth; he had
buried his face in his hands, but did not utter a word.
"Are there, then, no means of saving the child, Nikou?" cried the old
woman.
"No, wife; I can see none."
"For Heaven's sake, Nikou, think again! You are a shrewd man, and you
have never closed your eyes without praying for the protection of holy
Ilie."
Nikou seemed lost in thought.
"Wife!" he suddenly exclaimed, "St. Ilie has spoken. There is one way
of saving the child, but it is a fearful venture, and if the Almighty
does not specially watch over us and protect us we are lost."
"What is it, Nikou? Speak, speak;" cried Katarina, in the most anxious
suspense.
Nikou approached the two women.
"Ravecca, be patient," said he, "and you, young lady, listen to me; but
lie down and feign to be fast asleep."
"Many years ago our Wallachian brethren here on this side of the forest
were sorely oppressed by the Mongols. To escape from the tyranny of
their oppressors they determined to seek for themselves a new home in
the midst of a morass, which lies about an hour's distance from this
place. With infinite trouble, by means of long trunks of trees they
constructed a firm path across the treacherous bog, thus connecting
their new home with the mainland; but this path no human being who is
not perfectly acquainted with the locality can possibly find. About
the middle of this main road there branches off another pathway which
is some forty yards long and leads to an island of firm soil in the
midst of the quaking bog. These footpaths, however, are very narrow,
and woe betide the unhappy creature who chances to step but half a
foot on either side--he is lost--irrevocably lost. This island, in the
middle of the morass, our brethren chose for their home, and thus they
dwelled in peace. My father, and my grandfather before him, knew these
dangerous roads well, and from them I learned the secret. They are now
both dead and gone, and I think that, beside myself, but very few could
find their way across the bog. If I can but succeed in persuading the
Turkish dogs to venture on the bog, and if I can but get near you,
dearest child, just at the spot where the second path branches off to
the island, why then it may not be impossible to save you. Saint Ilie
will protect us; have you courage for the attempt?"
"Oh, yes," replied Katarina, with the utmost resolution, "a thousand
times sooner would I die than remain in the hands of those dreadful
men!"
Nikou rose and went to the door of his hut. "Men," cried he, with a
loud voice, "I have just thought of a road which will bring you in good
time to your journey's end."
"Where is it?" several of them eagerly exclaimed. "Show us the way at
once."
[Illustration: "IN FRONT WALKED NIKOU."]
Nikou continued: "You cannot possibly cross the rising torrent--it were
madness to attempt it, and in order to reach the bridge at Hoviz you
will have to go a great distance out of your way. There is, moreover,
the danger that you may be set upon by the infuriated Saxons. If you
like, I will show you a short cut well known to myself, and to but
very few besides me. I must warn you that it is a dangerous road; but
I suppose you men do not carry women's hearts in your breasts. It is a
narrow path which leads through the well-known morass."
"Get ready at once to be our guide," said Hussein.
"In a moment," replied Nikou. "Mount your horses, and by the time you
want to start I shall be ready too."
A quarter of an hour later the troop began to move away. In front of
the band walked Nikou, with a flaming torch in his hand. Then followed
some Tartars, next came old Kumanitza and his son, who also carried
a lighted torch. Hussein followed them with Katarina, and a few more
Tartars brought up the rear. Silently the men rode through the darkness
of the night; it was still raining, though the violence of the storm
had spent itself. Ravecca was kneeling down in her poor little cottage,
and raising her hands in supplication to Heaven, she prayed: "Oh, may
it succeed, holy Ilie. Oh, make it to succeed, then will I pour a rich
offering of the best oil into the lamp before thy picture."
Slowly for the best part of an hour did the cavalcade toil its way
through the wood, when Nikou turned and cried to those who followed
him: "Now, men, take care of yourselves. We are on the bog now! Follow
me in single file, and do not deviate one inch from my track."
Thus speaking he moved forward, raising his torch on high, and the
others followed him in slow and anxious procession. The hoofs of the
terrified horses sank deep into the mire, and it required all the
dexterity of the riders to induce the animals to move forwards. The red
flame of the torch cast a faint and flickering light on the dark and
dismal scene.
As Nikou pressed onwards, the soil seemed to become more slippery and
treacherous with every step. From time to time the old charcoal-burner
looked round anxiously for Hussein and the pastor's daughter. And now
at length they had without mischance reached the spot where, according
to Nikou's description, the second path branched off to the island.
Just at that moment, accidentally as it seemed, old Nikou slipped, and
the torch which he bore was immediately extinguished, and thus the
vanguard was plunged into utter darkness.
"Stand quite still, my men," said the old man, as he rose after his
fall. "Don't stir for your lives! And you behind there! You, lad, with
the torch; I am coming to light mine again at yours."
[Illustration: "HE DISAPPEARED INTO THE DARKNESS."]
Petru, who was the one addressed, and who was immediately in front of
Hussein, raised his torch to give old Nikou the light he wanted. The
old man came along to the rear cautiously, clinging to the manes of the
horses and the stirrup straps of the men. When he reached Petru, he
cast one significant glance at Katarina, who was seated before Hussein
on his horse, and then he snatched the torch out of Petru's hand.
"Ah," cried he suddenly, in tones which expressed the greatest terror,
"look there, there!" And he pointed to the left with the light he had
just obtained.
All eyes were immediately turned in the direction indicated, and at
that moment Nikou dashed Petru's torch to the ground. The light was
extinguished in a moment, and Nikou, plucking his knife from his
girdle, plunged the blade into the flank of Hussein's horse. The
animal reared with the pain, and Hussein, in the moment of terror and
confusion, forgetting all about his prisoner, was forced to maintain
his seat by clinging to the saddle.
Quick as lightning Nikou tore the girl from the Tartar's horse, and
bearing her away in his arms, he disappeared into the surrounding
darkness. The shrieks and curses of the Tartars, and the dismay and
confusion which now followed, baffle description; but in the midst of
the universal uproar the voice of Petru was heard crying out, "There,
there they go. I have seen them. After them, after them. Oh, father,
help! I am sinking! I feel as though my legs are being pulled down into
the deep. Help! help!"
But no help came; each one had enough to do to look out for himself.
The foremost horsemen tried to force their way back, and this caused
still more terrible confusion. The horses, now beyond all control,
plunged away from the narrow pathway, and rider and steed were sucked
down into the quaking bog. But Katarina heard nothing of the yells of
agony and despair of the death-doomed men; she was lying senseless in
the strong arms of Nikou, who, with steady tread, and knowing every
inch of the way, carried her safely along the treacherous road. At last
he reached the firm ground and laid down his precious burden on the
grass, covering and sheltering her as best he could under his sheepskin
coat.
It seemed a long time--an intolerably weary time before the first
streaks of dawn appeared in the east. Old Nikou was still sitting
by the side of the fainting girl, anxiously listening for every sob
which seemed to struggle from her breast. Suddenly in the far distance
he heard the sound of a shepherd's horn. Nearer and nearer came the
notes, to which the old man listened with something like feelings of
rapture. Then he arose and hastened forwards in the direction of the
sound. Presently he appeared again, followed by a band of armed Saxon
peasants, at whose head Matthias made his way across the sinking path.
The young man sprang lightly on to the firm ground, while Katarina, who
had meanwhile recovered consciousness, fell sobbing on his neck.
"Kätchen, dearest Kätchen," cried the councillor's son; "do I see you
alive again?"
"And you, Matthias, are you still alive?" cried the girl convulsively
clinging to her lover's breast.
"Yes, Kätchen, I am alive and well. The blow from that spiteful wretch
merely stunned me. It was some time before I regained my senses; and
then Ravecca came up just as I was setting out to search for you. She
sent us here to the morass. Only four of the wretched Tartars have
fallen into our hands, and they are now in safe custody. All the others
must have been swallowed up by the bog. But now let us leave this
pestilent place."
The return journey did not take long, and under Nikou's guidance the
party reached their village home in safety.
All danger from the Turkish hordes soon disappeared, and in a few days
Louis of Baden came up with aid from the emperor, and thus the Turks
were forced to evacuate Siebenburg altogether.
Six months after these events the pastor of Siebenburg stretched his
hands in blessing over the heads of his daughter and of Matthias as he
joined them for ever in the holy band of wedlock. It need hardly be
said that neither Nikou nor his good wife Ravecca were wanting at the
wedding feast. Nikou was no longer now a poor neglected charcoal-burner
in the lonely woods. The wealthy father of Matthias bought him a
comfortable hut in Fogasas, and added to this gift a pair of good oxen.
And from thenceforth Saint Ilie was the protector of his home, and
Ravecca could pour rich offerings of oil into the little lamp before
his picture.
_Stories of the Victoria Cross: Told by Those who have Won it_