Volume 3, Chapter I.
A romantic and chivalrous scene was presented to the eye, as a cavalcade
of warriors wound their way along the richly clad mountains of
Ghelendjik.
The fresh dews of the night still moistened the green herbage; the
crystal drops sprinkling the grass, shone in the early sun-beams like
the precious diamonds of Golconda; while the air which played round
their heads, came laden with the fragrance of the mountain herbs and
sweet scented flowers. The pure and elastic atmosphere seemed to
sparkle with life and light: all nature, rejoicing in the bright
new-born day, breathed an air of contentment and happiness; how sadly
belied by the scenes of devastation and misery the country was doomed to
suffer!
The chiefs were clad in rich and polished armour; their spear-points and
swords glittering in the sun-beams, and their gay banners fluttering in
the breeze. At their head, on his noble black charger, rode Arslan
Gherrei and the gallant Hadji Guz Beg, followed by many chiefs of note
and consequence. In the centre came Ina, more fresh and lovely than the
bright morn itself, followed by her damsels, and tended with the utmost
care; on one side, by her brother Selem, who guided her palfrey over the
uneven ground, while Thaddeus guarded her on the other, as she listened
earnestly to the description of his own loved land, comparing it to the
one in which he now was destined to live. Every now and then she would
turn her eyes from her brother, stealing a glance at him, which was as
quickly withdrawn.
Young Alp Beg, and other gallant youths, dressed in their gayest attire,
on high mettled steeds, curvetted in every direction, in hopes of
catching a glance from her bright eyes, or of hearing the sweet tones of
her voice. Close to them followed the young page Conrin, and, though
rejoicing in his master's happiness, every now and then a deep shade of
melancholy would steal across his features; nor would he, on these
occasions, listen to the words of consolation which Javis vainly
endeavoured to offer. The squires of the knights, their pages, and
other attendants followed, bringing up the cortege.
As they rode on, they were shrouded by the thick autumnal-tinted foliage
of the lofty trees; and the mountain's side, covered with flowering
heaths, when trampled on by their horses' hoofs, gave out a sweet odour.
In the vale below, flowed a blue sparkling stream, between rich
pastures, bounded by sloping banks; while on the opposite side, rose
jagged and fantastic cliffs, and in the extreme distance, a sea of
azure-tinted and swelling hills.
Messengers had arrived on the previous evening from the warriors already
encamped on the banks of the Ubin, a rapid stream falling into the
Kouban; summoning the chiefs from all parts of Circassia to meet them
there without delay. Some grand object was in contemplation, either to
attack the Russians before they should retire into their winter
quarters, or to prevent them in their turn from making any inroad among
their own mountain-homes. The Hadji was all fire and eagerness to set
forward, in the hopes of some engagement taking place; in which, under
his guidance, his darling son might gain victorious laurels, he looked
on the storming of the fort as an action of no note to try his mettle.
Arslan Gherrei had also determined to proceed onward to the same
destination, leaving Ina--who was now fully able to undertake the
journey--with the family of a noble kinsman, the Chief of the Demorghoi,
the venerable Prince Aitek Tcherei.
Their host, Shamiz Bey, with most of the warlike inhabitants of the
neighbourhood, was compelled to remain to guard that part of the country
threatened by the garrison of Ghelendjik, it being considered a point of
honour for every district to protect itself against the foe, except from
an overwhelming force.
A large body of horsemen were, however, collected, many chiefs having
come to greet the renowned Hadji on his return from his pilgrimage, to
congratulate Arslan Gherrei on the recovery of his long lost son, and to
welcome Selem to his native land.
Their journey was like a triumphant procession. From every hamlet
through which they passed, the inhabitants rushed out to congratulate
the warriors on their victory; the fame of their exploit having already
preceded them. The villagers made their admiring comments, not less on
the dignified and noble Arslan Gherrei and his son, than on his lovely
daughter; and the stranger Pole was hailed as another champion added to
their country's cause. The minstrels struck their harps to strains of
triumph, joined by the voices of the maidens. The wild youths,
galloping on before, fired off salvos from their rifles, which were
answered by others from the hamlets discharging theirs in return, as
they threw themselves on their ready-saddled steeds, and flew to join
the festive cortege. The green banks, sloping down from the villages,
were covered with old men, women, and children, joining their voices to
the general shout which welcomed the party, wherever they appeared. The
Hadji's name sounding above all.
Sometimes the cavalcade would halt to salute some aged chieftain, unable
longer to join in the hardships of war, who had caused himself to be
carried out to meet them, and to hear from their own mouths, an account
of their late exploit. The eye of the now decrepit warrior would
kindle, and his cheek burn with enthusiasm, as he listened to the tale;
or his voice would tremble, and a tear of regret roll down his furrowed
cheek, that he was no longer capable of participating in the glories and
dangers of war. So often had they to stop, and so many questions had
they to answer, that it was late in the day before they could reach
their resting-place for the night; and happy was the chief, whom they
had chosen as their Tocav, to receive such distinguished guests.
Their route on the next day's journey, lay along the base of the
far-extended line of the black mountains; when towering high above his
brethren, appeared the lofty Elborous, dark, rugged, and precipitous.
The cavalcade traversed a savage glen, overhung by beetling cliffs,
seeming ready to fall on their heads. The light was subdued and gloomy;
and the air was moist and heavy from the water which trickled down over
the moss-covered rocks. An oppressive feeling overcame all the party--a
foreboding of coming evil. Dangers in unknown shapes seemed to threaten
them. Even the Hadji's joyful tone was quelled; a chill fell on his
spirits. He cast a fond and anxious glance at his son Alp, as, for a
moment, the dangers to which he was about to expose him, crossed his
mind.
"Why are you so silent, my sister?" said Selem, as he rode by Ina's
side; "why does that shade of sadness steal over a face, but now so
bright with smiles?"
"I scarce know, Selem, why I am sad," returned the fair girl; "but I
thought of the dangers our noble father is constantly exposed to; that
you, my newly found brother, may again be torn from me; that you must
live a life of constant hardship and warfare. I thought of the miseries
of our country--our homes and fields burned, our fathers and brothers
slain, and that Allah should have created men wicked enough to do these
things. Tell me, my brother, why do the Urus attack our country? why do
they try to possess themselves of our humble cots and rocky mountains,
when they have abundance of land covered with mighty cities?"
"The lust of power, of conquest, such as you can have no conception of,"
replied Selem. "They care little to possess our mountain-homes, and
nothing for the noble hearts, whose blood they spill. What, to their
deaf ears, are the cries of the orphan, the moans of the bereaved widow?
There are rich and fair lands beyond our's, in which they would set
their grasp, could they reach them, to add to their already vast
territories, peopled by slaves. But they fear to advance, leaving
behind them one spot of unconquered ground, such as our own land, lest
we might impede them on their return home, laden with booty. We are
like a castle in a plain, overrun with marauders, which, as long as
provisions last, may withstand a host of such foes; so shall we, as long
as true and brave hearts beat in Circassia. But now, Ina, banish such
sad thoughts; see, we have gained a bright and joyous scene."
As Selem spoke, they emerged from the dark ravine, into a broad and
extensive valley; so broad, indeed, as almost to be called a plain. It
was surrounded by mountains, rising gradually in slopes or bosomy
swells, to form the sides of the vast amphitheatre. Green pastures and
corn fields, interspersed with clumps of fine trees, enriched its
surface, which was further adorned by cottages, surrounded by orchards,
farm-yards, paddocks, and granaries.
"See, Ina," exclaimed her brother, enthusiastically; "let not your
spirits sink with forebodings, for we have passed in safety through that
savage glen: and now what a lovely scene has opened to our view! So may
it be with our country. We yet may see bright and glorious days shine
on Circassia, when freed from the dark wing of the Russian eagle."
The country through which they were passing, had the appearance of a
magnificent park, or the estate of some rich noble of Frangistan; the
fields were separated by high well clipped hedge-rows, and irrigated by
canals filled from a stream, meandering through the centre. The hill
sides were covered with flocks of sheep; and fine cattle fed in the
fertile pastures.
Leaving the valley, the cavalcade mounted the sides of one of the hills,
by which it is entirely encompassed, traversing the summit of a narrow
ridge, looking down on each side into a deep ravine. Wherever the eye
could reach, appeared a country impracticable to any foes, when guarded
by even a handful of brave inhabitants.
The cavalcade did not keep in the same order as described in the
commencement of the journey; sometimes, the chieftain Arslan Gherrei
would ride to his daughter's side, and address words of affection and
encouragement to her; then he would enter into converse with his son, on
subjects of deep interest and importance. But there was one who never
left Ina's side. Each moment that Thaddeus passed in her company, he
became more and more enchained, without being conscious of it.
As the mighty Elborous appeared in view, with numerous other wild and
rugged mountains at its base, "Know you," said the Hadji to Selem, "that
the brother of that traitor Besin Kaloret Khan has his dwelling among
yonder rugged mountains, though they prove not so wild and barren, as at
this distance they appear? He is rich in flocks, herds and noble
horses, and many fierce followers are at his beck. I think he will
prove a dire foe to you and your's, if he discovers that his traitor
brother fell by your hand; or worse still, by that of your youthful
page. But, Mashallah! fear him not. He knows himself in the wrong, and
will dread to take vengeance."
Ina turned pale, as she heard this account. "Does, indeed, that
dreadful Khan dwell so near us?" said she. "I always feared to look on
him: he seems so fierce, so cruel, so unlike our father or you. Oh,
avoid him, for his presence can bring nothing but harm."
"Fear him not, fear him not, maiden," exclaimed the Hadji. "What harm
can he do? His followers cannot compete with us. Till he washes out
the stain of his brother's dishonour in the blood of our foes, he cannot
again appear in the company of the chiefs of Abasia."
"I fear not for myself," answered Ina; "but I fear him for the evil he
may work to my father and brother: I know that to meet him in open fight
they would have nought to dread; but he is subtle as well as fierce, and
may seek secret means to injure them."
"Do not let such thoughts alarm you for our father or for me, dear Ina,"
said her brother. "The Khan could not harm us, if he wished."
"Mashallah! if he were as cunning as the fox," exclaimed the Hadji, "we
would rout him out of his den, should he attempt any revenge for that
young traitor's just punishment."
The travellers were now approaching the residence of the venerable
Prince Aitek Tcherei, the kinsman of Arslan Gherrei, with whom Ina was
to remain during his and her brother's absence. The whole party, also,
were invited to sojourn there that day, ere they proceeded to the camp
of the allied princes and chiefs on the Ubin.
The party were descending a hill bounding another beautiful and romantic
vale, on the side of which stood the residence of the aged chief, and
had just arrived in sight of a grove of lofty trees surrounding the
house, when being perceived from the watch-tower in the neighbourhood, a
band of gaily caparisoned youths on horseback, galloped out to meet the
chiefs, uttering loud shouts of welcome, and firing off their rifles and
pistols as they came on at full speed. Halting at the moment they
arrived abreast of the leaders of the party, they respectfully saluted
them, exchanging greetings with their younger friends as they passed,
and then joined the rear of the cortege.
Along avenue of fine trees led up to the gate of the house, where the
aged Prince, clothed in a long robe and turban, (the garb of peace), was
standing to receive them, attended by his squire, armed more for state
than protection, and by his dependants and household serfs, who hastened
to take the horses of the chieftains, as they dismounted.
Folding Arslan Gherrei in his arms, "My noble kinsman," he said,
"welcome are you to my home, for gladly do my old eyes once more look on
you; and how did my heart beat with joy when I heard that you had
recovered your long lost son. Allah is great, who has shielded him from
so many perils in the land of the Giaour, to restore him once more to
your bosom. Is yonder noble youth he? Worthy he seems to be a
Circassian chief. Let me embrace him," he added, as Selem, dismounting
from his horse, advanced towards the old man.
"Come hither, my son, and let your father's oldest friend embrace you.
Ah! I see in his eye and bearing that he is worthy of you, Uzden. And
your other child? your daughter? Come hither, Ina; let my old eyes gaze
on thee, too. My own Zara will rejoice to see you. Go to her, Ina; she
longs to embrace you, but she fears to quit her anderoon before so many
strangers. Ah! my gallant friend, Hadji Guz Beg! rejoiced am I to see
the Lion of the Atteghei returned from his pilgrimage, to spread terror
among the hearts of the Urus. And you, Achmet Beg, and you, Alp, who
will one day be a hero like your father; and you, chieftains, welcome
all."
Thus he addressed them, as each chief advanced to pay his respects to
the old man. "My heart," exclaimed he, "has not beat so joyfully since
the cursed Urus slew the last prop of my age, my only son. Chieftains,
I have ordered a banquet to be prepared to do honour to your coming, and
it will soon be the hour for feasting."
Saying which, the venerable noble led the way to a grove of lofty trees
in the neighbourhood of the house, under which a fresh green arbour had
been erected by his retainers, forming a grateful shade from the yet
burning rays of the sun. Divans and carpets had been spread under the
leafy bower, the front of which opened on a gentle slope, falling to, a
green plot of turf, surrounded by groups of trees. Thither the chiefs
were ushered, and when all were seated, according to their rank, their
venerable host took his place among them.
Many of the neighbouring nobles had assembled to do honour to the guests
of their chief, their numerous attendants forming groups with the
villagers and retainers of the host collected before the arbour. The
Dehli Khans, or young men, amusing themselves in the mean time, in
various athletic sports.
Troops of servants soon appeared hastening to the arbour, bearing tables
laden with various dishes of richly dressed meats and fruits, which
might well vie in taste with the sumptuous fare of less primitive
countries. Bowls of mead and boza were handed round to the guests; for
even those professing the Mahomedan faith did not hesitate to drink of
the former delicious beverage, nor were spirits and wine wanting, to add
to the conviviality of those whose scruples did not prevent their
indulging in them.
Minstrels, also, came from far and near to add to the festivity of the
occasion; for what feast would be complete without the masters of song?
The aged Hassein Shahin, the famed bard of the Atteghei, he who sang of
a hundred fights, which he had himself witnessed, and in some of which
he had been engaged, now turned his lyre to a high and martial strain.
All voices were silent, every ear intent to catch his words which were
as follows:
From Liberty's harp are the strains you now hear;
Men of Atteghei rise at the call;
Hark! hark! to its sounds, for the foemen are near,
It summons us warriors all
To fight for the land of our ancestors' graves,
Who died that their children might never be slaves.
The Russ marches onward with chains in his hand,
To bind our free arms will he try.
His banner's dark eagle o'ershadows our land,
But we've sworn or to conquer or die,
For we fight o'er the sod of our ancestors' graves,
Whose valiant hearts ne'er would have yielded to slaves.
'Tis Poland's enslaver with foul bloody hand,
Remember her story of woe!
Her brave sons are captives, or fled their lov'd land,
Beware, or her fate we may know!
Let us swear on the earth of our forefathers' graves,
That we ne'er will be conquered or yield to those slaves.
Remember we fight for our mountains so green,
For our vales, for our streams' sparkling tide,
For those fields which our father's for ages have been,
And where, ever unconquer'd, they died.
Then let not their bones be disturbed in their graves,
By the tread of a Muscovite army of slaves.
See the glorious banner of freedom unfurl'd.
It waves o'er our lov'd native land.
Muster round it, and valiantly prove to the world,
That _alone_ we are able to stand.
As our fathers who lie in their warrior graves,
Fighting died, that their children might never be slaves.
Then curs'd be the traitors who yield to the foe,
And curs'd be the cowards who fly!
May they ne'er while they live, peace or happiness know,
And hated, and scorn'd, may they die!
In lands far away may they rot in their graves,
And their children bear ever the foul mark of slaves!
Now sharpen our spears, well prove each tough bow,
And the swords of our forefathers wield.
Don the armour so often they wore 'gainst the foe,
Seize each rifle and glittering shield,
And their shadows yet hovering over their graves,
Will guard us from foes who would make us their slaves.
Then to arms, then to arms, and this harp shall proclaim
The proud deeds that your valour has done;
And the world shall resound with the praise of your name,
To be handed from sire to son;
And tell of the heroes who lie in their graves,
Who died that the Atteghei ne'er should be slaves.
The warriors grasped their swords, their eyes kindled, their breasts
heaved at the minstrel's tones, the effect was such as would be
difficult to understand from the above meagre translation, without the
accompaniment of the bard's rich and animated voice, and the high loud
tones of his instrument.
Several other baras succeeded, taking various themes for their song.
When describing the heroic deeds of their warriors, their tones were
lofty and inspiring. When singing of their untimely deaths, cut off by
the foe, their voices would sink to a low and plaintive wail. When
picturing the beauty of some maiden more lovely still than her
companions, the air would be soft, sweet, and melting.
When the banquet was concluded, the gallant Hadji and his brother,
Achmet Beg, rose to depart, for their home was at no great distance, and
the Hadji's wife was anxiously expecting the return of her lord, though
the old warrior dreamed not of giving himself a day's rest, but had
engaged to be ready on the following morning, to accompany the other
chiefs to the banks of the Ubin.
When search was made for young Alp, he was nowhere to be found, for he
had early stolen from the feast.
"Your gallant son has been a constant visitor here, of late," said the
venerable host to the Hadji. "The youth loves to listen to my tales of
our wars with the Urus. He will follow closely in your steps, noble
Hadji, and I love him much. I know not if it is so; but I sometimes
think he casts an eye of affection towards my Zara; and if it please
you, my friend, he may have her."
"It is no time for the youth to take to himself a wife, when his
thoughts ought to be alone of war," answered the Hadji; "but Mashallah!
he would be happy to possess so sweet a partner."
The aged chieftain's suspicion was correct, for Alp was at last
discovered, coming from the direction of the anderoon; and he set off
with his father to their home.
The next morning a large band of warriors, amounting almost to a small
army, assembled in the valley, prepared to set off for the camp on the
Ubin. Headed by the aged chief, they repaired to a sacred grove in the
neighbourhood, in which stood an ancient stone cross, a relic of the
former religion of the country, round which the chieftains and their
followers knelt, while supplications were addressed to the One
all-powerful being, to aid their arms in driving the Urus from their
country. Each warrior bore a chaplet in his hand, which he hung up as a
votive offering to the Divinity--a heathen custom handed down from the
remotest times.
This ceremony being performed, the chiefs mounted their war-steeds, and
commenced their journey; the aged chief raising his hands towards
Heaven, bestowing blessings on them as they passed.
Selem had much difficulty in compelling young Conrin to remain behind;
but at last he succeeded in drawing a reluctant promise from the boy
that he would not quit the valley without permission, but would remain
as the page of Ina, and obey her behests. He did not attempt to
persuade Thaddeus to accompany him, and the young Pole had found
attractions, stronger even than those of friendship, to detain him in
the valley. It would also have been against the usual custom to allow
one, who had so lately quitted the enemy, to appear in arms on the side
of the patriots; a degree of suspicion existing among the chiefs against
all strangers, until their fidelity to the cause had been proved. He
therefore remained, with Karl as his attendant--a life the honest serf
seemed wonderfully to enjoy.
Volume 3, Chapter II.
Deep was the grief of Ina when she saw her beloved father and brother
depart for the scene of conflict, nor could her heart refrain from sad
forebodings when she thought of the dangers to which they must be
exposed. Too often had she been witness to the misery and heart-rending
wailing of her countrywomen, when anxiously expecting a father, a
husband, or a brother, as they met in lieu the mangled remains of the
loved one brought home on a bloody bier by his comrades. Such grief she
herself had never known; but she felt too clearly that horrors like
those might be in store, too, for her; nor could the fierce blast of
war, which raged round the land, steel her heart.
Zara did all in her power to tranquillise and cheer her friend under her
affliction; but too well could she also enter into and share her fears,
for she had seen her gallant father brought home stiff and cold on his
shield, slaughtered by the foe in repelling an inroad into his country.
That father was the last prop of her grandsire's declining years; and
hopelessly for him had the old man mourned, for he had now no warrior
descendant to succeed to his name and possessions, and none to guard his
child from danger. At his death the disposal of Zara in marriage would
devolve on the eldest of his tribe, and they would not inquire if her
heart could be given with her person. Her destiny, therefore, might be
a cruel one. A new chief would be chosen to lead the clan to battle,
and, in peace, to preside at their councils, and poor Zara might be
neglected.
Such was the fair girl's account of herself; and thus the two friends,
by pouring their griefs into each other's bosom, found mutual
consolation. She confessed, indeed, that there was one whom she hoped
might win her, and whom she thought loved her; but he had no wealth, and
as yet had little renown in arms. Yet she whispered to her friend's
ear, that she fondly loved the gallant young Alp, though she had enjoyed
but few opportunities of meeting him.
The aged Prince, Aitek Tcherei, having warmly embraced the tenets of
Mahomet, the two maidens were more strictly secluded than Ina had been
accustomed to; the old Ana, or nurse, who presided over the domestic
arrangements of the anderoon, keeping a constant and vigilant watch upon
them. Though the custom of the country would not allow of their being
limited to the same strict seclusion as in a Turkish harem, the nurse
was, nevertheless, horrified at the idea of Ina's appealing in public
without her face being entirely shrouded by a thick veil, nor did she at
all approve of her propensity to ramble through the groves, or amid the
shadowy cliffs.
The old Kahija's ideas of female happiness did not extend beyond the
acquisition of a new veil or robe, or, more than all, the enjoyment of a
gossip. What pleasure could the girls find in scrambling over the dirty
mountains and damp grass? or why should they dance or sing, except to
please their lords and masters, when other persons are paid to dance and
sing to them?
Her parents had sold her, when young and promising great beauty, to a
Turkish slave-merchant; and it was with unalloyed pleasure, in
anticipation of the novelty and magnificence of the great Stamboul, that
she leaped on board the vessel which was to convey her from her friends
and country. At first she herself felt the irksomeness of constraint;
but soon became reconciled to her self-chosen lot, and learned to
approve of all the regulations of the harem to which she was consigned.
Her notions, therefore, on her return, at the death of her master, to
her own country, were much scandalised at the freedom and what she
considered the levity of her young countrywomen; and she loved to
expatiate on the superior manners and customs of the fair captives in
the seclusions of Stamboul. Like other dames, who find that their
charms can no longer captivate, her temper at times became rather cross
and crabbed, though she always tried to treat her young motherless
charge with kindness.
Such was the old Ana, Kahija, who, wrapped in her feridji, now entered
the anderoon to interrupt with her gossip the conversation of the two
maidens. She delighted in gossiping--what old nurse does not?
particularly a Turkish one. She now came out of breath, with her
exertion of walking from a neighbouring cottage, to say with great
eagerness, that the chief shepherd had just come in from the distant
mountains, where he had seen the dark mountain khan, Khoros Kaloret,
whose brother had turned traitor, and been killed by the young chief
Selem, galloping by with a long train of savage followers, who were
riding furiously in the direction of the Ubin.
"Oh, Allah, grant that he meet not my father or Selem there!" exclaimed
Ina, in accents of terror.
"I know not what may happen, child," said the old nurse. "They say he
is a fierce chief. I hear, too, that he sought your hand. Mashallah!
but you might have been proud to wed so rich a Khan; and yet, Bosh! what
is he even to a merchant of Stamboul?"
"Why could you not love him?" asked Zara; "they say he is of gallant
appearance."
"Ah, Zara! love him? you know not what love is, to ask such a question.
Love him! No! I could only fear him, he looks so stern and fierce; so
unlike the calm and grave features of my father," said Ina.
"What is all this stuff the girls are talking about love?" chimed in the
old nurse. "Bosh! what nonsense is this? Love! What is love? it is
nothing; it is worse than nothing; it is folly--it is Bosh! What should
maidens know about love? Let them be married, and then it is time to
love their lords and masters."
Ina and Zara were in despair; for it was hopeless to carry on any
interesting conversation on their own feelings, with the constant
observations and interruptions of old Kahija; who could be very
entertaining at times, when she had the whole of the conversation to
herself, with her wonderful stories about Turkey and Stamboul. They
were relieved, however, from the dulness their constrained silence threw
over them, by the entrance of Conrin, with a small packet from his
master to Ina.
We have said that Arslan Gherrei had been educated in Turkey, and held a
high post in the army of the Sultan, where he acquired many
accomplishments very unusual to the generality of his countrymen. In
the calm retreat of his daughter's anderoon, when no strangers were by
to witness his occupation, he had endeavoured to cultivate her youthful
mind by the aid of the few books he had brought with him; and he had
taught her not only to speak, but to read and write Turkish,
accomplishments possessed probably by no other maiden in Circassia; for
few were blessed with fathers equally heroic in war, and capable of
enjoying the blessings of peace.
Zara, ignorant of her friend's accomplishments, looked with mute
surprise when Ina, taking the note from the page's hand, hastily broke
the thread which tied it, and read an account of the safety of her
father and brother, as far as they had as yet proceeded in their warlike
operations. The page was equally eager.
"Tell me, lady, tell me is my dear master in safety?" he said.
"Yes he is. Allah be praised! he and my father are well; and he tells
me not to forget my care of you, Conrin."
"Heaven be praised that he is safe. That he remembers me, brings joy to
my heart!" exclaimed the youth, clasping his hands.
The venerable Prince was kind and courteous in the extreme to his Polish
guest; yet Thaddeus found, to his great disappointment, that the
anderoon was, to him, forbidden ground; and instead of the constant
communication he had delighted in the prospect of enjoying with Ina, he
could never approach her, except to offer a few words of courtesy when
she was taking the air. Those short sentences were understood by
Kahija, who was scandalised that the young lady should be addressed,
even in the ordinary terms of greeting; and more so on perceiving that
Ina tolerated them. All his attempts at any further conversation were
fruitless, owing to the constant vigilance of the old woman; and Ina's
native modesty forbade her making any advances herself, however she
might have received them on his part.
At last he bethought him of gaining the confidence of young Conrin; but
the boy constantly avoided him, though he would now and then stop to
listen if he began to speak of his master, and to make any observations
in his praise. He thus felt the time hang heavily daring the absence of
his friend; for he had few to converse with, except the old Prince, who
spoke Turkish, and some of the Polish prisoners, or rather deserters,
from the Russian army; his only satisfaction being the occasional
glimpses he caught of Ina, and the delight of hearing the musical tones
of her voice as she returned his salutations.
His great resource was the chase. With a light rifle in his hand, and
attended by Karl and his former Polish servant, who enjoyed their life
of freedom and independence, so different from the abject servitude to
which they had hitherto been accustomed, he roamed the woods and
mountains. In these excursions he was also accompanied by several of
the youths of the valley, too young to go to war, who guided his steps
along the precipices, and shewed him where same abounded. At other
times he would mount a steed, appropriated to his use, galloping along
the green valleys, and up the mountain's sides, and vieing with the
young mountaineers in their equestrian exercises, till he became as
expert a horseman as they. He would often, with his rifle, bring down a
bird on the wing which they could not hit; thus winning their hearts by
his proficiency in what they most admired.
He, however, began to regret not having accompanied his friend to the
camp; and accused himself of want of friendship towards him.
We have said that Ina longed to breathe the free air of the mountains,
unrestrained in her liberty by the slow-moving steps of old Kahija.
Though she could not persuade the timid Zara to accompany her, she
frequently asserted her independence by sallying forth attended only by
her page. On her return, she listened, with composure, to the severe
lectures she received for these transgressions of decorum; and still
determined to renew them at every opportunity. How delighted she felt
as, bounding like a young fawn, whose fleetness she rivalled, she flew
through the shady groves. Then she would climb the mountain's brow,
inhaling the fresh pure air, and almost forgetting, as she gazed over
the fair land of mountain, vale, and stream, the miseries which
threatened it.
Towards the end of one lovely day, she left the confines of the
anderoon, attended by her page, who had now learned to love her, not
more from his affection for her brother than for her own endearing
qualities; looking around from the open wicket and seeing none to impede
her progress, she took her way through the grove towards a valley she
had long wished to explore, at some distance from the house. It was a
lovely place, originally formed from a fissure in the mountains,
increased by the constant wear of winter floods. Under the summer heat,
the torrent had dwindled into a tiny and clear rivulet, in one part
leaping in a bright cascade, then flowing in a gentle current, and next
rushing over a ledge of rocks, and falling into the larger valley, where
it expanded into a tiny lake.
The lady and her attendant walked on by its side over the soft velvet
herbage which the receding waters had left, and began to climb the rocky
sides of the glen, the summits of which were now blooming with various
sweet scented shrubs and herbs. A soft and mellow sky cast a soothing
influence over the scene, and the air was laden with fragrant odours.
Thoughtless of the difficulties they had passed, and fearless of the
steep and rocky paths, they clambered on, leaping lightly from ledge to
ledge, and holding by the shrubs and plants to aid their steps, till at
length they reached a platform, where they rested to view the broad and
beautiful valley into which the little ravine opened.
Below them was the smiling village amid its groves of stately trees, its
farm-yards, granaries, orchards, and cattle-pens. At a little distance,
at the side of the stream, was the rustic and unpretending Mosque, from
the platform of whose primitive minaret the Muezzin was calling all true
believers to the evening prayer. Here were shepherds driving their
flocks from the mountain's side to their pens, to shelter them from the
wild beasts. The kine were lowing on their way to their sheds, while
the village maidens carolled gaily as they milked their cows. The birds
were singing from every rock and spray; and all living nature seemed
calm and contented--
The page roused Ina from her contemplation of the scene.
"Lady," said he, "we ought ere this to have sought our homeward way: the
path is steep and difficult, and the shades of evening will overtake us,
ere we can reach the valley."
"Fear not, Conrin. There are no dangers we need dread," returned Ina.
"Old Kahija's scolding is the worst that can happen to us. We mountain
maids are sure of foot, and fearless as you seem, on the edge of the
steepest precipice. But, as you say, it is full time we should return
home; for, as it is, we shall be missed from the anderoon, and old
Kahija will think that we have fled for ever from her grave rule."
But as they looked round, doubtful on what part of the steep cliff to
begin their descent, they found that to return was not so easy an
achievement as Ina had pronounced it to be; for so many turnings had
they taken, that they could not discover the path by which they had
attained the spot where they stood.
It was difficult to say how they could have reached their present
position, as in vain they searched for the path. At length, Conrin
hazarded a spring to a lower ledge, from which it appeared that
practicable footing was to be found, when he was startled by a scream
from above; and, gazing upward, he beheld the Lady Ina in the grasp of a
ferocious, wild-looking man, who was endeavouring to drag her up the
steep cliff, while she resisted with all her power, calling her page to
her assistance. Conrin fruitlessly attempted to reach the upper ledge,
for the slender shrubs and herbage gave way in his hands as he clutched
them. Trembling with agitation, he fell back to the spot from which he
was strenuously trying to climb.
The man's appearance was, in truth, ferocious. Of gigantic height, his
face was almost covered with tangled dark locks hanging down from his
head, on which he wore a cap of undyed brown and white goat-skin, the
long hair of which, falling in front over his neck, added to the
wildness of his features. His body was clothed in a tunic of the same
material, and a long black cloak of goat's hair fell from his shoulders.
Rough sandals of bark were on his feet, fastened to his ankles by
thongs of leather. At his back hung a bow and quiver, and in one hand
he grasped a thick spear or club and a round black shield of bull's
hide; while in the other he held the slender form of Ina.
"Set me at freedom! How dare you thus insult me?" she cried. "I would
seek my way homeward."
"Not so, fair maiden," answered the man with rough harsh tones, in a
strange dialect, though Ina could comprehend it sufficiently to
understand the tenor of his words. "Not so; you are a prize of too much
value to be allowed to escape so easily."
"Begone, barbarian, and loose your hold," cried Ina, though fearful and
trembling in his rude grasp, yet retaining her native dignity. "Think
you to escape the vengeance of my tribe, if you should wrong me?"
"Vengeance! say you?" exclaimed the man scornfully. "Think you I fear
the vengeance of any?"
"You will have cause to fear it, if you do not release me," she
answered. "Know you not what chieftain's child I am?"
"I know full well," said the savage. "You are the daughter of the chief
who wronged my master; who slew my master's brother; and you are the
timid maid who would not be his bride. But now you'll not again refuse
to obey his will."
"I know not of whom you speak," cried Ina. "My father never slew a
chief of Atteghei."
"I know your father well," answered the ruffian. "He is the Chieftain
Arslan Gherrei, and you refused to be the bride of the brave Khan, my
master, Khoros Kaloret."
"Your master Kaloret Khan?" cried Ina, still more terrified than before,
at the sound of that name. "Yet he would never dare to rob a noble
Uzden of his daughter. Release me, ruffian!"
"My master fears not any chief of Atteghei," answered the man, fiercely.
"I'll waste no more speech; so cease your cries, and come willingly.
My noble master waits your coming."
Ina shrieked with fear. "Oh, Allah, protect me!" she cried, as the
savage endeavoured to drag her away. "Barbarian, release me, I pray
you, let me go."
"No, no, girl, your prayers are useless," answered the man. "Let my
master hear them. On me, they are thrown away."
"Haste, haste, Conrin," she cried, in Turkish; "fly to our home. Send
messengers to Selem, to my father, and rouse the villagers."
As the barbarian saw the page hastening to obey, he said to Ina: "Stay
that boy, till we are out of sight. If he moves hence, I'll send an
arrow through his breast."
Conrin, who understood not his words--Ina being too terrified to
interpret them--was hurrying from rock to rock, fearless of the peril
which a single false step might cause, or of the cruel death which
threatened him; when the barbarian prepared to put his threat into
execution. For an instant, he loosened his hold of Ina, unslinging his
bow from his back, and drawing a shaft to its head, with a hand which
never missed its aim. In vain, Ina shrieked to Conrin to stop, and
implored the monster to hold his hand. Neither of them heard her voice.
The last moment of the poor boy's life seemed to have arrived, as the
arrow flew from the string; but ere the hand which drew it reached the
ear, it was struck by a violent blow, and the shaft wavering in its aim,
flew high above the page's head. The fierce mountaineer, taking a
second arrow, turned to his aggressor, when he found his arm held by a
powerful and firm grasp.
Ina shrieked with fear for her preserver's life--for in him she beheld
the stranger Thaddeus--as the follower of the Khan attempted to seize
his heavy spear, and to fell him to the ground. But the young Pole,
grappling with him, prevented his raising it high enough to strike.
Though Thaddeus was strong and active, his fierce opponent was heavier
and more powerful. Releasing his arm with a sudden exertion, he sought
his dagger in his girdle; but the Pole throwing himself upon him with
his whole force, the two combatants fell to the ground.
"Fear not for me, dearest Ina," cried he; "save yourself. Hasten down
the cliffs, and fly homewards. I will hold this robber, until you are
safe."
Ina scarcely heard his words, or, if she did, thought not of following
his advice; but trembling for his life, she watched the combat, so as,
if possible, to lend her aid. For an instant, Thaddeus was uppermost;
but endeavouring to grasp his opponent's throat, he was obliged to
release one arm; when, drawing his dagger from his belt, the
mountaineer, by a violent effort, threw himself round, grasping the
fatal weapon in his hand, and bringing the unfortunate youth below him.
He was about to stab the young Pole, when another, though a feeble hand,
directed its aim, and it struck deeply into the earth, in a cleft of the
rock.
Thaddeus seized the dagger; when his opponent, with tremendous exertion,
arose and attempted to hurl him over the cliff; but as the mountaineer
approached the edge, his foot slipped. Seizing the fortunate moment,
and mustering all his strength, Thaddeus struck the dagger deep into his
breast. The huge barbarian fell heavily, still clasping Thaddeus in his
arms, who, nevertheless, forced him to the edge of the platform, when
the body rolled over to a jutting craig, some feet below where they
stood.
Recovering himself, Thaddeus turned to Ina, "Lady," he said, "I owe my
life to your courage: your timely aid saved me."
"Oh, no," she cried; "it was you who saved my life, and more than life,
for which you bravely risked your own. Allah be praised, who guarded
yours, and brought you to my rescue! You also saved poor Conrin's life.
But let us not stay here. The comrades of the man may come and revenge
his death on you. Oh, let us hasten home."
"I will bear you safely down these steep cliffs, lady," said Thaddeus;
"you are weak, and scarce able to walk from terror."
Lifting her gently (and Ina thought not of resisting his offer), with
firm and fearless steps, he sought a path amid the craigs; and as he
bore her slight form in his arms, he felt her hand unconsciously press
his. Her bright beaming eyes betrayed the ardent gratitude, which her
lips feared to utter. She looked anxiously into his face, to learn if
he felt oppressed by fatigue; but there she read alone his love and
pride, at having saved her; nor could she bring herself to entreat him
to set her down, till they reached in safety the bottom of the glen.
"I am stronger now, and will fatigue your arms no longer, noble Sir,"
she said. Thaddeus at last, unwillingly obeyed her repeated requests,
though she still consented to lean on his arm, as he accompanied her
homeward.
"Whence came that robber, who so terrified you?" asked Thaddeus.
"Oh he was no robber," answered Ina. "But a follower of the fierce
Khan, whose brother the young Conrin slew and who seeks to wed me."
"Wed you, lady? Can such as he be worthy of you?" exclaimed the young
Pole with enthusiasm.
"I know not; but I never loved him," answered Ina; "and now I doubly
fear his vengeance for your sake. When he hears that you have slain his
follower, he will not rest till he has had satisfaction for his blood.
I would that you were safe beyond his reach!"
"I do not dread any injury he can do me," cried Thaddeus. "To have
saved you from danger is so great a joy that I would die to gain it."
Ina felt her heart beat quickly as he spoke; for the tone of his voice
said more even than the words themselves.
It was a moment of delight--of pure bliss to both those young beings;
notwithstanding the wildness of the scene, the danger they had passed
through and which might be still pursuing them. They knew that they
mutually loved. They attempted not to speak; for they felt that words
would not adequately convey their love. They looked into each other's
eyes, and there they read all each could wish to know. Ina thought of
her preserver, and the danger he was yet in; and, as she hastened
through the glen, she cast many an anxious glance to see if any
followed. She thought that she heard a footstep; it was but the rushing
of the stream across a rock; she tried to increase her speed; again she
turned with fear--it was but the echo of their tread among the cliffs.
Thaddeus endeavoured to tranquillise her alarms; and partially
succeeded, by assuring her that he had himself descended the ravine, and
had encountered no one. As they emerged from the narrow gorge, loud
shouts saluted their ears, and they met a band of villagers led on by
Conrin, who, overcome by his exertions, sunk down at his mistress's feet
on seeing she was safe. Ina stooped over the poor boy with deep
solicitude, endeavouring to unloose his vest; but he strenuously
resisted her offers, declaring that he was fast recovering.
The party, composed of old and young, armed with weapons, shouted loudly
for joy when they saw Ina in safety; she thanked them for their
promptitude in coming to her rescue, and presented Thaddeus as her
preserver. The villagers complimented him on his bravery and success,
as with shouts and songs, they followed her homeward. The aged chief
had left his house to encourage the people in their pursuit of the
ravisher; but, when he saw his young kinswoman in safety, he felt a
strong inclination to scold her for wandering. As, however, she
appeared overcome with fatigue, he forbore, and left her to the lectures
he knew she would be certain to receive from the old Kahija.
Thaddeus would not quit her side until he had conducted her to the gate
of the anderoon, to commit her to the gentle care of Zara who was
anxiously awaiting her.
Volume 3, Chapter III.
The Circassian chieftains had chosen for the encampment of their
irregular but numerous army, a picturesque spot, of which the beauty was
much encreased by the wild and warlike bands now filling it. It was in
a rich and verdant valley watered by the streams of the Aphibs and the
Ubin.
By the banks of the latter river the greater part of the tents were
pitched beneath the lofty trees; some growing in clumps and others
scattered over the meadows as in a highly cultivated park. The ground
rose in gentle grassy undulations from the banks of the river, swelling
into round hills covered with the richest verdure, on which fed numerous
flocks and herds; while, further off, men, women, and children were
employed in the agricultural labour of the fields, unimpeded by the
presence of the warriors. In the far distance were seen the lofty
pinnacles of the Black Mountains.
Each chief had selected some spot on which to pitch his tent, as his
taste dictated, while their respective clansmen and followers were
stationed around them.
Here some stalwart chief reposed on the turf in front of his tent,
smoking the long chibouque, while looking at his followers engaged in
every description of warlike exercise. Some selected a mark on a tree,
and, retreating to a distance, fixed their hatchets in it with unerring
aim; others hurled the heavy javelin; some the light dart; while
numbers, with their bows in hand, were taking sure aim at a greater
distance. Some, too, were practising wrestling and running.
In one place, the sound of the smith's anvil and hammer was heard
repairing fire-arms for the coming fight. In the river the young men
were engaged in teaching their horses to swim across rivers so as to be
ready for any sudden excursion into the enemy's country. Here a troop
of gallant young nobles, on their long-tailed swift steeds, were seen
scouring along the valleys, and up the sides of the hills. The many
coloured and richly-silvered trappings of their horses, and their own
jewelled weapons and armour, shone brightly as they appeared amid the
trees. It was, in truth, a brilliant, warlike, and exciting scene.
The chiefs and nobles were dressed in their complete war array; some in
superbly embossed and ornamented armour, of polished steel; others in
beautifully wrought chain armour fitting closely to the body, and being
pliable to every movement, shewed off their graceful figures to
advantage. The lofty plumes of their helms towered far above the heads
of their followers, as they moved through the crowd; their jewelled
poniards (the insignia of their rank) were placed in girdles richly
worked in gold; and all their other arms were also highly ornamented.
Some of the venerable elders appeared in turbans and long robes, the
garb of peace; and a few nobles wore the simple and elegant
tight-fitting coat, richly trimmed with silver lace, and embroidered
belts to hold their arms.
The army was composed of people of many different tribes and races from
all parts of the Caucasus, speaking various languages, having many
different customs, with great variations in costume. First, in numbers
and bravery, were the tribes of the Atteghei, consisting of the Abzeki,
Khapsoukhi, Nothakhaitze, the Demirghoi, and many others. Bands of the
disciplined Lesghians had come from the far off plains bordering on the
Caspian, to war with the oppressors of their own country, with whom they
there could not venture to compete. There were bands, also, of the
nomadic tribes, the short broad-faced Calmuck and the Nogai Tartars.
Many warriors, also, had come from Georgia, Mingrelia, and Immeritia,
which countries have succumbed to the Russian power, but still bear her
the most deadly hatred. Some bands had descended from the wild Alpine
retreats of the snowy mountains, wild as the regions they inhabited or
the beasts they rode, a small, uncouth, though hardy and active race.
These were dark-visaged men, with projecting jaws, and black shaggy
beards, mostly clothed in skins, with fur caps, and garments of the
roughest materials. Though addicted to roving and predatory habits,
they were now animated with the common feeling of hatred to the Urus.
There were the tribes of the Tubi and the Ubick; who fought on foot,
owing to the inaccessible nature of their mountain-homes, where no horse
can find a safe footing, and none can venture but the nimble-footed
inhabitants, and the active goats and chamois. They are mostly of
gigantic height, with handsome countenances, but fierce in appearance
even to wildness, which was not a little increased by their sheep skin
turbans, the long white wool of which curled over their face and
shoulders. They wore the tight-fitting tunic of the Circassians, over
which was thrown a black mantle of goat and sheep skin hair, platted
together; while their sandals were formed of the bark of the linden
tree. Each man was armed with a hatchet and poniard in his belt, a
light gun on his shoulder, while in his hand he carried a weighty and
knotted club, furnished at the end with a long steel barb to assist him
in crossing streams, or springing from cliff to cliff. It served also
as a rest to his gun to take more deadly aim, and as a weapon in the
chase, or in his hours of amusement as a toy, to hurl with fearful
exactness at a mark.
Besides these, came another tribe of foot warriors, of ferocious
appearance, from the upper regions of the Black Mountains, bearing
large, black, round shields made of wood, strengthened with bands of
iron or yew, covered with the hide of the buffalo. These people were
armed chiefly with the primitive bow and arrow, with which they can take
the most certain aim.
There were also some of the fierce Tartar tribes, the most deadly foes
to Russia, owing to her usurpation of their country. When driven as
exiles and wanderers from their native land, they settled in the before
uninhabited and almost inaccessible regions of the Caucasian range.
They also wore jackets of skins and fur turbans, adding to the natural
ferocity of their countenances. Their arms were broad curving
scymitars, and long heavy Greek guns, with pistols and hatchets stuck in
their belts, and embroidered with silver.
Even Europe furnished many warriors from ill-fated and ruined Poland,
who had found refuge and sympathy among the generous mountaineers, to
try their swords against the hated Moscov.
Among the infantry, the only bands which had any pretension to regular
discipline were the Lesghians, who manoeuvre in compact bodies on their
own plains, though their style of fighting is not well adapted to the
mountain warfare of the Circassians.
The followers of the princes and nobles of the Atteghei were habited
much alike, in the tight-fitting elegant tunic, without collar to
confine the neck, which was left bare; large trowsers, ornamented
girdles, embroidered slippers, or low boots of coloured leather, and the
broad-crowned low cap, either of hair, or cloth, or leather, trimmed
with fur. All had sabres by their sides and the cama in their belts;
but many carried the bow and arrow without fire-arms. The greater
number were provided with horses, which they had decked with all the
ornaments they could collect.
The elders and judges, who had repaired to the camp to give their advice
and counsel, wore large white turbans and long vests, and might be seen
sedately seated beneath the shade of wide spreading trees, in circles,
holding grave debates, their white beards flowing over their breasts,
and giving them a grave and venerable appearance. Many of them, who had
served in Turkey, retained the costume of that country; adding to the
picturesque variety of dress to be found among this congregation of
brave warriors.
No regular arrangement had been preserved in the formation of the camp;
the different bands pitching their tents, or building their leafy
shelters where they pleased. Many of the warriors had been followed to
the camp by their wives, to attend to their tents and to dress their
food: their tall and graceful forms were dressed in flowing robes of
varied tints, embroidered with gold and silver, and long white veils
falling from their heads as they were seen gliding among the trees.
The camp was unfortified; but though a short distance only from the
Russian posts, there was no chance of a surprise, as scouts and advanced
parties were constantly watching their foes, who could not make the
slightest movement without due notice being given. This was the
principal camp of the Abasians; but there were others under experienced
leaders, along their frontiers towards Anapa, watching the enemy's
castles in that direction.
Such was the magnificent spectacle which greeted Selem's eyes as, in
company with his father and Hadji Guz Beg, they descended from a
mountain-ridge into the valley of the Ubin, the refulgence of the
evening sun throwing a lustre over the animated and exciting scene. As
their squires discharged their rifles, numerous chiefs hastened forth
from their tents, or from among the thickets and trees, mounting their
chargers and galloping to meet their brothers in arms. While they rode
on, others came from all directions, greeting with warm congratulations
the arrival of the Hadji and Arslan Gherrei; nor were the younger nobles
less pleased to see young Alp, who was a favourite with all.
The chiefs cast inquiring looks at Selem, and when Arslan Gherrei
proudly introduced him as his son, relating his romantic history and
recent exploits, loud shouts hailed him as a chief of Circassia. His
heart beat with pride at having acquired that glorious appellation, as
his brother warriors came forward to grasp his hand in welcome.
Their followers assembled under a grove of lofty trees near the river; a
few minutes only elapsed since their arrival at the spot, before their
tents were erected and every arrangement made for their accommodation.
Selem then accompanied his father through the encampment, to learn the
proceedings and intentions of the leaders. Various plans of operations
had been discussed; but, unfortunately, unanimity did not reign in their
councils as to the best mode of proceeding.--The most sagacious were,
however, for preventing the large Russian army, which threatened them,
from advancing into the interior, without expending their strength in
minor exploits: but others were for making excursions into the country
of the Cossacks at unguarded posts, while the enemy were elsewhere
engaged, and some were for at once storming the Russian forts. Selem
saw with grief and pain the sad want of organisation in an army capable,
if well directed, of driving back their foes to their own bleak steppes.
But they were destitute of artillery and ammunition; and he saw too
clearly that no great object could be attained beyond the strict defence
of their native mountains. Yet, without some object in view, that vast
multitude, unaccustomed to any combined movement, would soon be weary of
restraint, and might, in a few hours, melt away like snow before the
rays of the sun, and return to their own homes. They required some
chief of superior talents, whom all would acknowledge as their
commander, to lead them to war; and they would then become invincible.
This want their invaders well knew, and reckoned on accordingly.
The next morning the sun rose with unclouded splendour over the
beautiful valley of the Ubin, cheering the hearts of the assembled
warriors with an omen of success. It was the day appointed for a solemn
ceremony to take place, namely, the administering an oath, which all the
princes, nobles, and leaders of Circassia had agreed to take, never to
sheathe their swords, or make terms with the enemy, till he had retired
from the neighbourhood of their country; and to sink in oblivion all
ancient feuds and animosities among themselves. Many chiefs had already
bound themselves by this agreement; but the majority had hitherto kept
aloof from taking the oath, as it not only forbade them ever making
terms with their foes, but involved the necessity of restoring all
property unjustly retained from their countrymen.
Contiguous to the camp was a quiet and sequestered dell, with green
hills rising close around it, and filled by a grove of lofty and
venerable trees: a spot looked upon as sacred from time immemorial. In
an open glade, in the centre of the grove, stood the mouldering remains
of a stone cross, near which, where the lofty trees threw their cool
shadows, now assembled hundreds of noble warrior chiefs. One sentiment,
one soul, animated the breasts of all--the most deadly hatred to their
foes, and a determination to resist to the very last gasp. Every one of
the various tribes and bands, which composed the patriot army, here sent
a representative to swear in their name, and to confer on measures for
the general advantage.
As the princes, nobles, and leaders arrived, they took their seats on
the green turf, when, all being assembled, a chief arose from the
circle, and advanced towards the centre. His white turban, his long
robes, his hoary locks and flowing beard, bespoke his sacred character.
In his hands he held a book, which he raised aloft, as he knelt before
the cross, and offered up to the all-potent and all-omniscient Being,
whom every one present worshipped--whatever their other differences of
creed might be--a prayer for the success of the sacred cause of liberty,
and for the confusion of their tyrannical foes. Every warrior, bowing
his head, reverently responded "Amen!" as the venerable sage ceased his
prayer. Still holding the book before him, he rose, and, with a voice,
yet deep and sonorous, though at times trembling with age, he
exclaimed:--
"Noble warriors, chiefs of Circassia--we have this day assembled for a
great, for a righteous purpose. It is to bind ourselves, by a solemn
compact, to exert all the energies of our souls and bodies to drive
hence the fell invaders of our country. Never to sheathe our swords
while a foe to Circassia exists near her borders; to sink all private
feelings of animosity, and to offer the hand of love and fellowship to
all who will join us in this sacred cause. I call on all present to
come forward, and to swear on the sacred book I hold, to conquer or die
for our country, and to shew the world, what a brave band of brothers,
though few in numbers compared to the vast hordes of our opponents, can
do for the cause of liberty."
As he finished his address, one of the most influential of the Princes
of the Atteghei advanced, and, reverently kneeling, kissed the book, and
took the required oath. His example was followed by others, till the
enthusiasm became general, and all rushed eagerly forward to sign the
compact. As they took the oath, they formed in circles, grasping each
other's hands, in token of their brotherhood. Those who had never
before met, except with their hands on the hilts of their swords, now
joined them in the pressure of love and fellowship; and the ardent wish
of all, was to be led at once against the common foe.
Many, who had arrived too late for the opening of the ceremony, hastened
forward from all directions to swear eternal enmity to the Russians.
The aged judge again knelt, when all had subscribed the oath, to return
thanks to heaven for the concord which reigned throughout the band of
patriots; and, as the sacred ceremony concluded, loud shouts rent the
air, from the vast concourse of warriors who covered the sides of the
hills, and every woodland glade. Had any Russian spy been present, he
might have warned his countrymen of the hopelessness of success, in
their nefarious attempt to subjugate so resolute a people.
Volume 3, Chapter IV.
Our hero and his friends had spent two days at the camp of the patriot
army on the Ubin, without devising any plan of operation, or without any
movement taking place among the Russians, when three horsemen were seen
riding at headlong speed down the sides of the mountains, towards the
camp. The energies of the horses seemed taxed beyond their power. One
noble animal fell, throwing his rider stunned before him. The horse of
the second came down with tremendous force, after giving three or four
bounds, and making fruitless efforts to continue his course; but the
third, not stopping to see what had become of his companions, rode
furiously on to the camp, whence many chieftains and warriors rushed out
to hear the news he brought.
The messenger leaped from his steed as he came among them, the gallant
beast trembling in every limb, and scarcely able to continue on his legs
as he panted with exertion.
"Noble chieftains!" cried the messenger, "I bring you dire news from
Ghelendjik. Three days ago, a numerous fleet of Russian ships was seen
to approach our coasts, from which a mighty army disembarked. It is
hoped they will remain some days within their fort to rest from their
voyage; but, after that, there can be no doubt they will advance to
ravage the country, if a stronger force than is there collected, is not
opposed to them. The men of Ghelendjik will do their utmost to stop the
invaders; but what can they hope to do against an overpowering force?
Our Seraskier, therefore, sent us here with haste to summon some of his
friends to join his army."
Among the foremost of the chiefs, who had hastened to meet the
messenger, was the gallant Hadji. "Bismillah! not a moment is to be
lost then," he cried, seizing his standard from before his tent, waving
it aloft, and again plunging the staff into the ground. "I will hasten
with joy to your chieftain's aid, and we will stop these Urus on their
march. Gallant nobles and warriors, whoever among you will bear me
company to the aid of our hard-pressed countrymen, let them assemble
round this banner within three minutes, and we will away; for, perhaps,
before this the Russians may have begun their march. Let those who
will, follow."
Saying which, the brave old chief hastened to don his helmet, his squire
leading forth his steed; and in less time than he had indicated, he was
on horseback by the side of his banner. Alp soon galloped up, followed
by Selem, who directly volunteered to accompany his venerable friend,
after taking leave of his father, who was obliged to remain. Before the
time for starting had arrived, numerous warriors came up from all
directions; the news, that an expedition was on foot, having flown like
lightning through the camp; so that, within five minutes of the arrival
of the messenger, several hundred horsemen had assembled, fully
equipped, to follow the Hadji. Again seizing his standard, the Hadji
waved it aloft as a signal to march; when giving a loud shout, the band
of warriors set off at a quick speed, many others promising to follow.
The Hadji led on his followers as fast as they could proceed without
exhausting their horses, stopping only at night to rest for a few hours;
and before sun-rise they were again in their saddles. Their anxiety to
hear some news of the enemy was extreme, for they were now approaching
the neighbourhood of the Russian fort; though it was impossible to say
in what part of the country they might sally out to commit their
depredations.
They drew rein on the summit of a mountain, from which they obtained a
far-off view of the sea, in the direction of Ghelendjik, and of the
intervening hills and valleys, from which, with their glasses, they
could perceive wreaths of smoke curling upwards to the clear sky in
every direction. Alas! they told a sad tale of destruction going
forward! As the Hadji gazed with an anxious eye to discover the cause--
"Curses on the fell Giaour!" he exclaimed. "Yonder flames and smoke are
their hellish work! See how the burning cottages, and farms, and ripe
corn fields of our countrymen, mark the course of our foes. See, they
take the passes towards Anapa. Ha! we may yet be in time to stop them
before they reach that castle. They will no doubt attempt the passage
of the valley of the Zemes; and there the brave Seraskier Manjour Bey
will be found in waiting for them. Onward, my friends, we will see what
these Moscov are about."
Saying which, the whole party urged their horses down the dizzy
mountain's side, crossing valleys, streams, rocks and hills, in their
eagerness to arrive at the scene of action. It was nearly sun-set when
they came within hearing of distant and straggling shots; and,
surmounting a hill, they perceived in the broad valley below them, the
vast Russian force winding its way by the side of a clear stream, which
protected one flank.
The long and close columns advanced in regular and steady order; their
colours waving above their heads, their bands playing animating and
lively airs, and their artillery guarding their van and rear. Trains of
baggage and ammunition waggons were in the centre, furnished with all
the "materiel" for war; while troops of Cossacks scoured the fields on
each side, to protect their flanks, and to guard them from a surprise.
Here and there might be seen hovering around them, parties of the
patriot horsemen, every now and then charging the Cossacks, grappling
with their opponents, bearing them off, or cutting them down, ere the
Russians could point their howitzers at the assailants.
A messenger now arrived who had been sent in search of the Hadji's party
from the Seraskier, then commanding the main body of the Circassians
assembled to impede the Russian's progress. He informed them that this
chief had determined to hazard no engagement till the enemy had entered
the valley of the Zemes, which they would probably do on the following
morning; calling in all stragglers to form an ambuscade, except a few
scouts to watch the movements of the foe. The Hadji and his party
directly determined to obey the wishes of the General, as did most of
the parties who had been engaged in harassing the enemy's advance;
though a few still continued hovering on his flanks.
The Hadji and his followers, therefore, turned their horses' heads in
the direction of the spot where their friends were assembled; riding
over the summit of the hills, which bounded the valley, till they
arrived at the edge of the lofty cliffs forming the sides of the pass or
glen of the Zemes. The Seraskier Manjour Bey came forward to welcome
the friends who had so opportunely arrived; and led them round to the
places where he had posted his men, who were to sleep that night on
their arms ready for any sudden movement of the enemy, should they
attempt to pass through the gorge under cover of the night; the Hadji
placing his followers in other advantageous positions. Behind every
rock and bush, on every projecting craig where footing was to be found,
were to be seen the athletic forms of the highland warriors, their
rifles and bows ready for action, and their ears intent to catch the
first notes of the Russian horns in their advance. Many also, in places
to which they could lead their horses, were crouching down by the side
of the well-trained animals, hidden by the thick brushwood and broken
rocks.
It was but a small body of mountaineers whom the Hadji and Selem found
assembled; they were entirely destitute of artillery, and there was a
scarcity of ammunition. They could, therefore, depend alone on their
sharp broad swords to contend with the well-trained bands of Europe
supplied with all the "materiel" of war. The Hadji was deeply
disappointed when he discovered the hopelessness of entirely
annihilating the Russian army, as he at first expected; but he
determined to gall them, as much as possible, in their march.
Here the brave patriot band continued the live-long night in eager
expectation; not a word above a whisper being uttered to disturb the
dead silence which reigned around. Young Alp remained by his father's
side, as did Selem, for they well knew that where the fight was
thickest, there would the gallant old warrior be found. Seated on the
soft heather, on a bank rising but a little way above the bottom of the
glen, they passed the night, listening to his long tales of war, and his
adventures. Our hero, unaccustomed as yet to the night watch, and the
bivouac, was worked up to the highest pitch of excitement and
expectation; the night seemed interminably protracted; but to the other
hardy warriors it was an affair of constant occurrence, though they
were, perhaps, no less eager for the issue of the approaching combat,
which might be of such vital importance to the liberty of the province
of Khapsoukhi.
At length, as reclined on the turf, he gazed up into the pure calm sky,
dotted with myriads of stars, they seemed to grow fainter and fainter,
until he could scarcely distinguish them, amid the blue void. He sprung
to his feet; not a sound was heard; the first faint streaks of dawn
appeared in the east, yet no one moved from the leafy shelter. The sun
rose, a vast globe of living fire, glowing as if in anger at the scene
of blood on which his beams were so soon to shine; now throwing a
glowing red flame on the dew-besprinkled trees above their heads, soon
to be followed by one of still deeper hue.
So calm and quiet was the scene, that a traveller might have passed
through the glen, unconscious that he was surrounded by hundreds of
warriors and their steeds. All were on the tiptoe of expectation; for
every moment might bring up the Russian army; when the interest was
increased tenfold as the scouts, breaking through the brushwood, spurred
their horses up the sides of the glen.
"The Urus are advancing! The Urus are advancing!" they cried, as they
passed to make their report to the Seraskier, and to take their station
within the shelter of the thickets. All things wore again the silence
of the grave; then the cheering sounds of drums and fifes came faintly
on the breeze, through the windings of the valley; next, the firm tread
of the approaching host might be heard; and then appeared the advance
guard of the Russian army. Onward they came, regardless of danger.
Each of the highland warriors held his breath with eagerness, and more
firmly grasped his sword to spring forward on the foe; or kept his
finger on the lock of his rifle, or drew his arrow to his ear, prepared
for the word of command to commence the work of death.
Not a leaf moved, not a whisper was heard, when the advancing column of
the Russian force appeared in sight. The leading file came directly
below the ambuscade. At this moment, a terrific cry arose from the
sides of the glen, reverberating from rock to rock, from craig to craig,
down the whole extent of the savage pass.
"Come, my sons, now is the moment; we'll up and be at them. Follow,
those who will. Wa Allah! Allah! Allah!" cried the gallant Hadji,
springing to his horse. His example was followed by Alp, Selem, and
about twenty other warriors, who drew their scymitars as they rushed
from the leafy cover; shrieking, rather than shouting their war cry, and
dashing among the foremost ranks of the Russians, giving them not a
moment to defend themselves.
It is necessary to go back a little in our narrative, and explain the
cause of this sudden incursion on the part of the Russians. When the
brig of war returned to Ghelendjik, bringing the remnant of the
garrison, and an account of the loss of the fort, the rage of Baron
Galetzoff knew no bounds; especially when he heard that our hero had
been one of the most daring leaders, and that Lieutenant Stanisloff had
escaped. Again, and again, he renewed his vows of wreaking vengeance on
the Circassians, and expressed his determination to capture the two
friends at all hazards. Count Erintoff confessed that he had, at first,
the intention of putting the Baron's warrant into execution himself, and
dispatching Thaddeus in prison, with his own hands; but the surprise of
the mountaineers had been so sudden, that he had barely time to escape
with his life. Some time after these events, a fleet arrived with fresh
troops to garrison Ghelendjik; and the Baron received orders from the
general-in-chief to proceed with a large body of troops by land, to
Anapa, through the defiles of the Zemes, from thence to take up his
position, and erect a new fort near the Kouban, at no great distance
from the spot where the Ubin falls into that river.
The Baron marched out of the fort with four or five thousand men under
his command, well supplied with all the munitions of war, and was
allowed to proceed unmolested through the broader valleys, where his
cannon had range enough to play, leaving, as he advanced through the
smiling vales, dotted with hamlets, and spread with verdant fields, a
long track of ruin and desolation behind him. So suddenly, indeed, had
the Russian army sallied out, that the inhabitants had scarce time to
drive off their flocks and herds, and remove their valuables, as from a
distance they mournfully beheld, but with a keen hope of vengeance,
their habitations wantonly committed to the flames. The Russians
continued to advance through the open valleys, and through the first
part of the defiles of the Zemes, without meeting a foe; the country
throughout appealing to be some land of enchantment, so calm and
beautiful did it look. They began to congratulate themselves on having
awed the natives into peace, and on the hope of being allowed to perform
their march without molestation. Towards the evening, indeed, a few
Circassians appeared, attacking their flanks, at intervals, like hornets
on some huge animal, and flying off, before there was time to send any
of their own cavalry to pursue them. The General had ordered the
Cossacks to scour the sides of the hills, to prevent the main body from
being taken by surprise--a most hazardous service; for, one by one,
those who took the outer range disappeared, and their comrades, who went
in search of them, shared the same fate; but there was no time to make
inquiries.
That night the army slept on their arms; before the sun arose on the
following morning, they were again on their march. They advanced
cautiously through many serpentine windings of a deep gorge; at their
feet rushed the surge of a mountain torrent, in whose bright waters the
soldiers eagerly slaked their thirst. Not a foe had been seen as onward
they marched, the cool morning air refreshing their cheeks, and a deep
and solemn silence reigning through the glen.
In a moment that scene of quiet and repose was changed into one of
carnage and confusion. The foremost ranks fell back, trembling at the
sound of the war shout of the mountaineers, as from behind every craig,
shrub, and tree, a destructive shower of bullets and arrows fell thick
among them. At that instant, a troop of fierce horsemen leaped from
amid the rocks, hewing down all who crossed their path; and, ere the
cannon could be brought to bear, vanishing on the opposite side.
It was the daring band of Guz Beg.
"Ya Allah! well done, my sons!" cried the veteran. "My brave Alp, you
will not disgrace your father. You cut down those vile Urus as a mower
cuts corn with his sickle. Ask what you will of me, my son, and it
shall be granted for that one charge. What say you, my friends, shall
we be at them again?"
Saying which, before there was time to think of the great danger they
ran, the Hadji's band were once more upon the amazed and confused ranks
of the foe, scarce recovered from their first panic. They were not this
time so fortunate; one of their number fell by the fire which the
Russians now opened upon them; and Selem was nearly suffering the same
fate, for, as he swept by, he perceived the Count Erintoff in the
advance, who spurred on his horse to meet him; but too many men
intervened for them to exchange blows; and Selem was obliged to follow
his friends, being the last Circassian horseman who reached the covert
of the wood.
"That will do for the present," said the Hadji. "But, mashallah! I
should like to be among them again. A few charges like that would
annihilate their army."
Selem, however, urged him not to attempt the manoeuvre, which involved
too great a risk, without advantage, to his valuable life. However, the
Hadji and Selem were every where to be seen dashing at the foe, then
galloping up the steep sides of the glen.
The Russians, stunned with the terrific cries knew not which way to
turn. Where they least expected an attack, they found themselves
grappled by the active mountaineers, who seemed to leap from the cliffs
above their heads, dealing death around them with their sharp broad
daggers, then rapidly disappearing among the rocks, leaping from craig
to craig, where none could follow. Hundreds were shot down by the
silent arrows of their invisible foe; nor, as they gazed with fear
around, could they tell whence the shafts proceeded. The soldiers saw
their comrades next to them sink down, struck by those winged messengers
of death. Their ranks were thinning fast, nor could they defend
themselves, nor attack their aggressors; but in these trying moments,
the stern discipline, even of slaves, triumphed over their fears, and
rescued them from the hands of the most daring and courageous warriors.
The officers shewed courage worthy of a nobler and better cause:
exerting themselves to the utmost, with calm voices, keeping up the
men's spirits, closing their ranks, and leading them on in order.
But could it have been real courage which enabled the men to endure this
terrific storm? It was rather a dull and heartless apathy. They saw
their fellows fall; and knew that they were released from a life of
privation and tyrannical suffering; and cared not if it should be their
fate to be the next victims. It mattered but little whether death
should come by famine, the sword, or by pestilence; too certainly would
they fall by one or the other.
The army, with thinned ranks, continued to advance, protected, as they
defiled into more open ground, by their light howitzers carried on the
backs of horses; every now and then keeping the slender force of their
daring assailants at a distance, as they could bring their guns to bear
on them. They marched as fast as they were capable of doing; but they
were not yet secure; for the Seraskier of the Circassians, a brave, but
a sagacious and cautious leader; though he would not allow his followers
to attempt competing with the Russians on the plain; attacked their rear
and flank incessantly, until, when near Anapa, he was joined by another
larger body of the patriots.
The whole army of the enemy might now have been destroyed, had the
mountaineers possessed artillery. As it was, they escaped destruction
solely through the garrison of Anapa making a sortie to their rescue,
with artillery and a strong body of Cossacks. The harassed remnant at
length reached that fortress.
"Mashallah!" cried the old warrior, as he looked angrily towards their
retiring columns when they entered the fort; "We've repaid them for the
surprise they attempted to give your noble father. They will not forget
this day's work, for a long time to come. Allah! if we had some of
their light guns, they would not have escaped as they have done. But
fear not, my sons, we will meet them again before long."
There seemed every probability that the campaign in this part of the
Caucasus would be soon finished for that year. The Hadji, therefore,
with his followers, returned to the camp on the Ubin to wait further
events.
The preceding is a faithful account of the style of warfare the Russians
have to engage in with the mountaineers of the Caucasus, in which
thousands of their soldiers annually fall victims. But what matters
such a loss to the government of St. Petersburg? They have millions of
slaves to replace those who fall; and they have resolved to subdue the
barbarians in spite of the rivers of innocent blood which may flow. May
Heaven grant that the bravery and patriotism of the high-minded and
gallant Circassians may be completely triumphant over all the efforts of
their slavish and despotic oppressors!
Volume 3, Chapter V.
Thaddeus Stanisloff was now perfectly happy. No longer did he hesitate
to approach the anderoon, and no longer did Ina fear to meet him; her
ear was ever intent to catch his approaching footstep, when, in spite of
old Kahija's frowns, she would start up, and hasten to the gate of the
enclosure, for within those sacred precincts, no man dares venture to
approach.
She did not, however, stop to analyse very clearly her own feelings; but
they were so novel, so delightful, so pure, she could not help indulging
in them. Thaddeus loved Ina, with the most ardent, tender attachment;
and often did he anticipate a life of happiness, passed in her society,
amidst the vales and mountains of Circassian when he would teach her the
love, religion, and the customs of civilised Europe, and eagerly did she
listen to these discourses of her gallant preserver.
Still they had not yet talked of love; yet, much did he long to speak in
the language of confidence, unrestrained by the presence of the gentle
Zara, or the young Conrin.
Early one morning, he met his mistress at the gate of the anderoon,
fortunately before old Kahija had made her appearance; seizing the
opportunity--
"Ina," said he, "I have much of deep and earnest import to communicate;
and I would not, that other ears than yours, should listen. Will you
deign to meet me then, and hear my words, for here I cannot speak them?
Ere the sun has set this evening, will you meet me, Ina, in the sacred
grove, near the ruins, over whose shattered fragments the Cross still
rears its head triumphant?"
"Stranger," answered Ina, "you are my brother's trusted friend. I know
too from your brave and generous nature, that you would not seek aught
from me, that is unbecoming a maiden's modesty."
"Believe me, you will do no wrong in trusting me. I'll wait until you
can steal from old Kahija's vigilance. Your page can see you safe, and
watch the while we speak, that none intrude. Do you consent, lady?"
"I will meet you, noble stranger," answered Ina, with timidity, and
blushing as she spoke. "I know that you will guard me from danger."
"Thanks, Ina, thanks, for your confidence; my life shall answer for your
safety!"
Thaddeus might, perhaps, at that time have found an opportunity of
letting Ina fully understand his devoted love for her; when they were
interrupted by the coming of the discreet old Kahija, who considered
that the conversation had already endured beyond the bounds of decorum.
He was most unwillingly, therefore, obliged to retire, and to pass away
the hours in thinking of his mistress; until the old nurse should have
gone to the Mosque for evening prayer, when Ina would meet him.
The spot Thaddeus had selected, was a beautiful grove situated a little
way up the mountain side, which, from time immemorial, had been looked
on with veneration, by the inhabitants; because there, according to
tradition, their ancestors had formerly worshipped the Great Spirit, and
his Son who once visited earth. In his wanderings, Thaddeus had
discovered the ruins he mentioned, which were those of a church of
considerable size, as appeared by the fragments, still remaining
scattered here and there, among the herbage; but many years must have
passed since it was reduced to its present state, from the large trees
growing amidst the stones.
The foot of the cross itself, formed from two large blocks, had been
deeply imbedded in a rock, projecting from the mountain's side. Over
the sacred emblem, the trees had formed a sheltering arbour, its
existence there being a fit symbol of the Christian religion, standing
on the rock amid the ruin and decay even of its own temples and rites.
To this spot resorted those, who would ask some special favour of the
mighty spirit they worshipped; but, ignorant of him who had chosen it as
his emblem, they would fall down in adoration before it; many believing
that the spirit himself dwelt within it, and that the stone retained
hidden virtues. It was also considered as a sanctuary, which none would
dare to violate. Any one followed by his most deadly enemy, who could
reach it, might cling to its support and there be safe from vengeance.
Even those professing Islamism still held it in veneration. Chaplets of
flowers, the votive offerings of the worshippers, were hung on the
surrounding trees until they withered away.
Thaddeus eagerly hastened to the spot, long ere the time he might expect
the coming of his mistress; but he wished to be alone in that sacred
place to commune with himself, to dwell upon the anticipation of his
bliss should his hopes of her answer be fulfilled. He wandered round
the ruins of the once sacred pile; sometimes he feared she could not
really love him, and a moment afterwards he felt confident of winning
her. Then he threw himself beneath the shade of some tree, and
anxiously watched the lengthening shadows; and next he would rise and
hasten through the grove, towards the direction whence his mistress
should come; but he saw her not. The sun had not yet sunk low enough in
the heavens, and he regretted that he had not persuaded her to come at
an earlier hour. He again returned, lest, perhaps, she might have
passed some other way.
Inspired by the solemnity of the spot, he threw himself down before the
cross, and offered up his thanksgiving to heaven for his own
preservation, and his prayers for future blessings. Deeply absorbed in
his devotions, he thought not of the lapse of time; and, as he rose and
gazed eagerly around to see if Ina was near, the sun had reached the
edge of the mountain, tinging its sides with a saffron hue, and throwing
a deep shade at its base. The minutes now passed like hours; he feared
something might have prevented her coming; some accident might have
befallen her; he thought of the revenge of the Khan and trembled for her
safety.
As despair was about taking possession of him, at length, his heart
bounded as he caught sight of her, moving amid the trees like some
benign spirit of the groves. At a little distance from her, followed
Conrin, slowly and mournfully; who, on seeing Thaddeus, turned aside.
The young lover hastened forward to meet his mistress; he gently took
her hand, which she did not withdraw, as he led her to a seat, formed of
a broken architrave, beneath the cross. For some minutes neither spoke,
as they sat gazing on the rich and smiling valley below them, which was
clothed with a soft mellow light; a serene and solemn silence reigned
over the whole scene. The lovers felt perfect happiness; they feared to
speak, lest a word might break the soft enchantment.
Thaddeus turned to Ina, and, gazing on her eyes, so liquid and tender,
yet so lustrous, he saw an expression there which gave him courage to
speak. "Ina," he said, "I came to this land a stranger among your
people. All my hopes in life were blighted. I had been an imprisoned
felon, condemned to death, every instant expecting to die by the hands
of my comrades, but was rescued by your brother's bravery. To him I owe
all I now possess: I owe him my life, and--more far more than life--the
happiness of seeing you. From the moment I saw you, I loved you; from
that moment your image has never been absent from my thoughts. In the
ardour of the chase, in the solitude of the night, I have thought alone
of you; and oh! the rapture, when I found you were saved from the
ruffian who would have torn you from me! Sweetest Ina, I love you!"
Ina gazed at him. A sweet smile irradiated her features; her eyes
sparkled with animation.
"Is it possible?" she said, with an inquiring look. "That you,
Thaddeus, accustomed to the magnificence of the cities, and the
accomplished beauties of Frangistan, can think of a mountain maid like
me, who has never passed her native shores? Perhaps, you spoke but in
sport; but no, you would not tamper thus with my heart."
"Ina, could words alone convince you how ardently I love you, I would
speak them," answered Thaddeus; "but no language has fitting words to
express my feelings. I would die to save you from harm. Dearest Ina,
can you love me?"
"Love you? Blessed joy! oh yes! Perhaps, I do not love you as I ought;
still I would not that any arm but yours should have saved me from him
that would have torn me from you. Do you think I love you now?"
"Yes, dearest," said her lover, folding her in his arms as her head sank
upon his neck. "Yes, Ina, by yonder cross I swear to guard you with my
life; to love no other but you."
"Indeed 'tis bliss to hear you speak such words," answered the maid. "A
short time ago I thought I loved but one--my honoured father; and then,
my brother coming, shared my love; but now I feel my heart too small to
hold the love I bear for you. The feelings which I bear for those dear
ones I would tell to all the world; but what I feel for you is a
treasured secret I would tell to none but you."
"Ina, you are my own," exclaimed Thaddeus. "Oh never deem that I could
share my love for you with any other: the very thought were sacrilege.
How ardently have I longed before to say this to you--to learn from your
own sweet lips, if you could feel the same for me! But still I feared
that I could not be worthy of such love as yours."
We must no longer attempt to describe the words with which the young
Pole told the deep feelings of his heart to the pure and gentle Ina.
Side by side they sat, nor thought how fast the hours sped. The sun had
long gone down, the stars came out glittering in the dark clear blue
sky, and the moon arose in pure and tranquil majesty to witness their
guiltless love, throwing her silvery beams through the dark trees of the
grove. Yet still they lingered, pouring into each other's ears the
words of soft endearment.
At length they rose from the spot hallowed for ever in their memory,
when a gentle step approached, and young Conrin stood before them. Ina
thought she heard a sob. He spoke at last in low and hurried tones--
"I came to warn you that night approaches," he said. "You'll be sought
for anxiously in the hamlet, and great alarm will be felt when you are
missed."
"Ah, is it indeed so late?" said Ina. "I thought we had passed but a
few minutes here. We will hasten home."
"I will guard you to your home, dear Ina!" said Thaddeus, as he
supported her steps.
Though both knew that they ought to hasten, yet neither felt any
inclination to quicken their pace, as they passed through the sacred
grove, and chose, they knew it not, the longest road to the village.
They had yet much to say, when they found themselves at the gate of the
anderoon. Young Conrin followed slowly, and again they heard that
half-stifled sob; but he sought to avoid their observation.
They stopped at the gate to whisper many more endearing words; and
perhaps they might have spent another hour, fancying it but a minute,
had they not been startled by the harsh sounds of Kahija's voice, who
had bustled out in no sweet temper at the long absence of her young
charge.
"Truly, these are pretty doings for a maiden, to be staying from home at
this late hour. What would have been said, had any of the inmates of
old Mustapha's harem, at Stamboul, taken it into their silly heads to
wander about in this way? They would soon have found themselves at the
bottom of the Bosphorus, I warrant. That is the way young ladies are
treated, who misbehave themselves in the only civilised country in the
world--and a very proper way too. A pretty example you set my young
lady, Zara. I suppose that she, who has always been so correct--thanks
to my instructions--will take it into her head next, to go gadding about
in the same way. But, I'll take care she does no such thing I'll
promise her. I hope to see the free manners of the girls, of this
country, reformed before I die. It's quite dreadful, scandalous, to see
them wandering about in this independent manner, with their veils thrown
off their faces to let everybody stare at them who likes. Come, Sir,"
she said, turning to Thaddeus; "I wonder you stay here. I thought you
knew that the anderoon was forbidden ground to any man but my lord. I
should think you had enough of my lady's company already."
But Thaddeus felt no inclination to move without speaking a word more of
farewell; and old Kahija, having vented some of her wrath; and not
being, in reality, ill-natured; saw it was useless opposing an affair,
which was, indeed, no business of hers. She therefore turned away for a
few minutes, during which time Thaddeus snatched a parting embrace from
his mistress, drawing a promise from her to meet him again on the next
day.
When the old nurse returned, the intruder, much to her satisfaction, was
gone. Ina then entered the anderoon, when Zara, throwing aside the
embroidery she was engaged on, sprang forward to meet her.
"Dear Ina," she exclaimed, "I feared some other danger had befallen you,
that you returned not before."
"No danger could happen to me where I went," answered Ina; "I was safe
from every harm. So lovely an evening to wander out!" she added, with a
little pardonable deceit. "I wonder you can bear to be so shut up."
"I, too, should like to wander out to breathe the air of evening,"
answered Zara; "but old Kahija will not hear of it."
"What is that you say?" said the old nurse entering. "What! are you
trying to teach Zara to follow your own wild customs? But you will not
succeed; she is too good a girl to wish to do any thing of the sort.
When she marries young Alp Beg, she may do what she can; but she will be
shut up close enough then; and so will you, Ina, if you marry a true
believer, instead of one of these heathen countrymen of ours."
Happy were the slumbers of Ina that night as she laid her face upon her
pillow. She dreamed that again she trod the sacred grove with him she
loved--that again she heard his voice speaking those magic words which
changed her very being--she felt the pressure of his hand in hers--and
she saw the moon rise amidst the trees, the witness of their love.
Volume 3, Chapter VI.
Perfect tranquillity reigned in the valley of Abran Bashi, far removed
from the loud tocsin of war which hung round the borders, though news
occasionally arrived of skirmishes with the Moscov, and sometimes a
wounded warrior would come to be recovered by the care of his family.
At times, too, wailing and weeping was heard, when a family received
intelligence of some dear relation having fallen in the fight; or a sad
train would pass through the valley, accompanying the corpse of some
noble, borne on his war-steed, who had lost his life in one of the many
useless attacks which were at that time made on the Russian lines; more
for bravado, and for the sake of exhibiting bravery and fearlessness of
consequences--the characteristic of the Circassian warrior--than for any
advantage to be gained.
Notwithstanding the predictions of the old chief, Thaddeus began to hope
that the Khan, Khoros Kaloret, had foregone all farther attempts to
carry off Ina; and, being ignorant by what hand his clansman had fallen,
he would be unable to fix his revenge on any one. Thus all dread of
evil consequences left his mind; and even Ina no longer feared to renew
her rambles under his protection beyond even her former limits, though
sure of receiving a severe lecture from old Kahija after each
transgression.
We have as yet given but a slight sketch of her beautiful friend, the
young Zara: she was like a sweet rose-bud, fresh and blooming, ere the
first rays of the morning sun have dissipated the crystal dew; a
complete child of nature. Brought up in that secluded valley, she knew
nought of the world beyond the lofty mountains that surrounded it.
Within that spot all her thoughts and hopes had been concentrated; she
loved her pure streams, her verdant fields, and her shady groves, and
grateful to the kind nature who placed her there; she was happy and
contented, and would have felt miserable at the idea of leaving them,
undazzled even by old Kahija's descriptions of the gorgeous Stamboul.
Her character was pure as her own sweet face; she seemed formed for love
and tenderness alone, unfit to buffet with the cares and troubles of the
world. Like a delicate plant, requiring some strong tree round which to
entwine its slender tendrils, to gain strength and support from it. Her
temper was sweet and amiable to all; and even old Kahija's lectures
failed to ruffle her. Dutiful and obedient to her only remaining
parent, she tended him in sickness with the most gentle and unremitting
care; and dearly in return did the old chief love his little Zara.
Her features were soft and feminine as her character; she was
beautifully fair; her delicate auburn locks hung over her swan-like neck
in rich profusion, her large eyes of purest blue were shaded by dark
lashes, adding to their tender and languishing glance, while a smile
playing round her ruby lips, betokened a happy and contented heart. Her
figure, though equally graceful, was shorter and fuller than her
friend's; but none could deem it otherwise than perfect.
Such seemed the fair young being who had bestowed all her pure and warm
affections on the gallant and youthful warrior, Alp Beg, and truly did
he prize the treasured girl he had won.
He had been loved from his childhood by her grandfather for his courage
and activity in all manly sports, and now gladly did the old chief
accord his sanction to their union, which he had arranged with the Hadji
before his departure for the camp. As yet the fair girl knew not that
her hopes were to be fulfilled, for though Alp had found time to whisper
his love, neither knew that their parents would give their sanction to
their marriage; and often would sad forebodings for the future cross her
otherwise tranquil mind, fears that their union might be forbid, or that
he might be snatched from her by the cruel Urus.
The two fair girls were seated on an ottoman in the anderoon, while Ina
worked a belt with golden thread, her first gift to Thaddeus. Zara
struck the cords of her lute.
How sweet and thrilling was her voice, as she sang the following simple
ballad:--
The sun shone like glittering gold on the lake,
While softly the breeze through the green forest play'd;
The birds sang their gay notes from rock and from brake,
And sweet odours sprung from each flowery glade;
There was heard too a fountain's light murmuring voice,
And nature in smiles seemed with glee to rejoice.
Though nature was smiling, yet sorrow was nigh,
For near a pure stream, 'neath a green willow's shade,
With her quick panting bosom, a bright weeping eye,
There stood, trembling with fear, a fair Atteghei maid,
As a gallant youth, pressing her form in his arms,
Sought, with love's parting kisses, to calm her alarms.